Everything Changes

Everything Changes by Greg Bowden j_and_g@telis.org

I thought I was probably the happiest man on the planet. I had good reason to be: I was twenty- seven, I had a great job, I had money in the bank and I was engaged to a long legged beauty named Angela whose daddy was rich.

The night our engagement was officially announced my future in-laws pulled out all the stops. They threw a big black tie party in the grand ball room at Nelson's club-Nelson Beech being my future father-in-law and not one to loose any opportunity to be a star in the social heavens-and they invited everybody they knew.

It was a hell of a party. There was an orchestra which played genteel elevator music while a small army of uniformed waiters circulated with trays of canapes and cocktails. The glittering society matrons spent the evening showing off their jewelry to one another while their stock broker husbands swilled down Chivas Regal and worked the room. Outside on the terrace the younger crowd talked cars and technology and smoked joints.

And this, I thought to myself, is only the engagement party. What can they possibly do to top it at the actual wedding? My musings were interrupted by a swirl of lime green taffeta and long blond hair: Angela.

"Well, he's here. Or at least he's on the way. The plane was late."

"Wonderful. Who?"

"Oh, you know, my brother. I told you..."

Oh, great. The black sheep brother, the son my nearly father-in-law could hardly tolerate. From what I'd gathered, mostly from Nelson himself, the guy was some sort of schlock writer who lived like a hermit on an island somewhere. I had a mental image of wild eyes, long, matted beard, dirty jeans and sandals but what the hell. At a time like this, family is family.

We danced to the elevator music for a while and then went to the bar. French champagne is fine for a while but I'd really rather have a good German beer. Nelson's club had three to choose from. While I was making up my mind, Angela excused herself to go and check on her brother.

The bartender and I were still discussing the relative merits of Konigsbacher versus Schofferhofer when I felt a familiar hand on my arm. "Darling, I want you to meet my brother, Brian."

The man she introduced was not the man I'd pictured, not by a long shot. The real brother had soft gray eyes, was clean shaven except for a neatly trimmed mustache and was wearing a beautifully cut and perfectly fitted tuxedo along with proper patent leather shoes. He grinned at me and put out his hand. "So you're Tim Barker, the man of the hour. Welcome to the family."

When I took his hand it was like I'd grabbed onto an electric wire that was still plugged in. He felt it too; I saw it in his eyes, tiny sparks that lit them up for just an instant.

"Are you all right, darling?" Angela put her hand on my cheek.

I shook my head and tried to smile at her. "Yes, of course. I'm fine." I turned to look at Brian. He was smiling but his eyes were troubled. "If you folks will excuse me," he said, "I think I'd better go say hello to mother. And dad, too, if we're still speaking."

"I suppose Mother will drag him around to all her friends with unmarried daughters now," Angela said, watching her brother cross the room. "I don't know why she insists on doing that. She knows he hates it."

Brian found me at the bar an hour or so later, passing time with the bartender while Angela chattered with her girl friends. He looked-I don't know, frightened was the word that came to mind but I didn't see how that could be. He started to put his hand on my shoulder and then thought better of it. "I think I'd better leave, Tim," he said quietly. "Please tell Angela I said good- bye." He turned abruptly and walked away. Watching him make his way to the door I felt a sense of loss come over me and I didn't know why.

In the weeks following the engagement party I developed an odd, empty feeling in the pit of my stomach, especially at night. I didn't sleep well either. More often than not I would wake in the middle of the night and lie there thinking about my life, about what I'd accomplished and where life was taking me. Sometimes I'd think about Brian, Angela's brother, and wonder where he was and what he was doing.

I couldn't concentrate at work, either, and Mr. Midor, my boss, decided I had the pre-marriage jitters. "It's a big change in your life, my boy. It's only normal to be nervous." But was it normal to be sick to your stomach all the time?

Six weeks or so before the wedding Mr. Midor had a call from one of our better clients down in Florida. The client insisted that something had gone wrong with a program I'd written for him and since none of what he said made any sense, Mr. Midor decided that I should go down to Florida and see what was going on. He also insisted that I take three or four days off after I'd fixed the problem. "Get away, renew yourself," he said. "You need it."

So I went to Miami. The client's main problem turned out to be that he wanted some hand holding and attention. I tinkered with the program a little, just to make him feel good, answered a bunch of questions from his staff and that was that. The whole thing took two days. My problems weren't solved quite so easily.

I was no better off in Florida than at home. If anything, I slept less and the sick feeling in my gut was worse. After a day of pretending to enjoy myself at the hotel pool I gave up and decided the whole thing was pointless. The next morning I packed my bags and waived good-bye to the Miami sun.

My flight home was delayed for two hours so I browsed around in the airport gift shop and found a murder mystery that looked promising. Back in the waiting area I settled down with The Yellow Jade Tiger by B. N. McNair. It turned out to be a great story and I was hooked in about three pages. The story was set in San Francisco and the detail was amazing. I flipped to the back to take a look at the author's bio and see if he actually lived in San Francisco.

When I glanced at the author's photo my stomach did a serious flip-flop. B. N. McNair was my future brother-in-law Brian Beech and no, he didn't live in San Francisco, he lived on Barbados, an island in the Caribbean. An island, I knew from the posters in the waiting area, that was served, four times daily, by BWIA. BWIA was located in the next concourse over.

They got me on the one o'clock flight.

I spent the entire flight wondering what the hell I was doing but whatever it was, I knew I had to do it. After we landed on Barbados I stood outside the airport for a while without the slightest idea what to do next. When a cab driver asked if I was going to the Hilton I took the path of least resistance and said yes.

It was a lovely drive around the island to the hotel and when I got there they even had a room available. I changed into beach shorts and a tee shirt while I pondered my next move. Finally I took the obvious course: I looked him up in the phone book. There was no listing for B.N. McNair but there was for Brian Beech. While it was ringing I kept asking myself, what the hell are you doing? Then he answered.

"Brian? It's Tim Barker. Angela's..." He knew who I was. He offered to come and get me but it turned out he lived only a mile from the Hilton and I thought perhaps I needed the walk. He gave me directions and said he'd be on the beach.

The walk along the road was beautiful but none of it really registered. I kept looking into myself, wondering what I was doing and why but I couldn't come up with an answer; I just did it: through the blue gate, along the grassy path and down the stone steps. Brian was sitting on the sand with his back against the sea wall.

I sat next to him and he took my hand in his, his eyes focused on the horizon. "You've changed everything," he said quietly, into the air.

"I know." I did know, although I hadn't before. "I couldn't help it."

"I know." He laughed and turned to look at me. "I have tickets for Wednesday. Would you like something to drink?" He reached into a cooler beside him and brought out two icy bottles of Konigsbacher, opened them and handed me one.

The cold beer felt good on my tongue. "Now what?"

He shrugged and then leaned over and kissed me. He tasted of the beer and something else, something I couldn't identify. Himself, maybe. The feel of his mustache was prickly against my lips and it occurred to me that the knot of pain in my belly was gone. Then I had to break away because I was getting dizzy.

I leaned back against the sea wall and looked at Brian. He was very aroused and he made no attempt to hide it. I wondered how it was that I could do that to a man. My own crotch gave evidence of a more difficult question: how could a man do that to me?

"How long do we have?"

"Two days. Three if I stretch it."

He sighed and looked out at the horizon again. After a long time he shook his head as though waking from a trance and said, "Three days and three nights-the time of Jonah in the belly of the whale. And like Jonah, we shall be different at the end of it." He drank his beer and grinned at me. "Now tell me, Tim Barker, how do you come to be sitting on my particular strand of beach? I'd imagined you in Minneapolis, battling snow and dancing the nights away with my sister."

I avoided the question of Angela and told him instead about the client in Miami and Mr. Midor's offer of a short vacation. He laughed when I told him about buying his book in the airport. He said McNair was his mother's maiden name and he used it because he and his father didn't agree on what he wrote-even if one or another of his books had been on the best seller list just about continuously for the past four years.

"When I read that you lived on Barbados I took it as some kind of omen or something I guess. I don't know-I just got on the plane and. came here."

He leaned close to me and looked into my eyes. "It was an omen and I'm glad you came. I hope you will be, too." He kissed me again, pulling me down so that my head rested in his lap. I took hold of his arms and was surprised at how strong and hard they were; I'd never been kissed by a man that way and many things surprised me. Something moved against the back of my head it took some time for me to realize it was his penis, flexing in his excitement. The feel of it was both sensual and frightening, something I had no idea how to deal with. There was something else, too, a sensation I couldn't define but one full of warmth and pleasure.

I pulled myself up on Brian's arms and then settled back against the sea wall to catch my breath. My cock was so hard that it ached and it thrust up obscenely in my beach shorts. When I reached into my shorts to adjust it Brian did the same with his. That seemed like the most intimate thing I had ever done with another guy, being hard together and adjusting ourselves so openly. Brian opened another bottle of Konigsbacher and we shared that, too, passing the bottle back and forth like mountain men with a jug.

It grew dark quite suddenly, the way it does in the tropics, and Brian said it was time for a swim. When I protested that I didn't have any trunks he laughed. "So? Who's to see? Besides, it's my beach."

I was glad for the darkness. I would have been embarrassed for Brian to see me as I was, my cock swollen and on the verge of standing out. When I got out of my shirt and beach shorts Brian took my hand and led me towards the water. At the line of the firm, damp sand he stopped and pulled me close to him. "I think we'd better relieve some pressure," he said quietly and put his arms around me, pulling me up tight against him. His body was firm and angular against mine, not at all what I was.

I lost track of my thoughts when he reached down and took hold of my cock, pulling it up against my abdomen and then pressing himself against me, trapping it there. I could feel his cock, too, riding next to mine, touching it along its length.

He kissed me for a long time and then pulled us down onto the sand where he lay over me, kissing me again. Most of his weight rested on the cool sand but still he pressed into me, as if he was protecting me from something. Then he began to move, rubbing himself against me until I knew I was going to burst. I tried to tell him but he wouldn't take his mouth away from mine so I quit trying to hold back and gave in to him, letting the bubble inside me burst.

My orgasm was sharp and brief, more like relief than pleasure. Afterward we lay on the sand for a time, catching our breath. Then he rolled off of me and began to chuckle.

"Pretty disappointing for your first time with a guy, wasn't it? Well, don't you worry, next time will be a lot better and the third time's the charm." I could see the flash of his teeth and knew he was grinning at me. He pulled me up and then reached out to pat my belly. "Come on, let's test the real waters and wash some of this goo off."

We walked into the low surf, hand in hand, until the water was up around our waists. Brian ducked down into the water and brought up a handful of sand which he rubbed gently over my chest and down along my belly. The grit felt good against my skin and I returned the favor. The firmness of his muscled chest felt oddly foreign under my hand. When he took my dick in his hand I jumped back as though I was still in junior high and some guy was trying to play find-the-nuts on me.

Brian laughed and kissed me again. "You might as well get used to it, Tim. You're going to find my hands down there a lot."

We went back to our things and carried them up to the house. Brian wouldn't let me put my shirt back on, saying I had about the handsomest chest he'd ever seen. I'd always been a little self conscious about all the hair on my chest and belly but Brian said he loved it. "A man," he said, "is often attracted to that which he does not posses himself." He was right, of course. I've always thought a man looked better without much hair on his body. Brian had none.

Being essentially useless in the kitchen I watched while Brian made a salad and grilled some fish. After dinner we sat on the sea wall and shared another beer.

"How'd you know it was my first time, out there on the beach?"

"Oh, Tim, I know so many things about you. I know you're confused, I know you're a afraid, I know you wish none of this had ever happened. I also know that you know it had to happen. Sooner or later."

"How."

"Because it's all true for me, too. Well, except for the first time part." His voice told me he was smiling into the dark. "But it seemed like the first time, getting our rocks off out there on the beach. That's all it was, you know: getting our rocks off. The love making comes later." He tousled my hair and pulled me against him. "As for the rest of it-well, wishing isn't going to make it go away. It's happened. It happened a while ago, in Minneapolis, the first time we touched." He put his hand on my face and ran his finger over my mustache and then, very gently, across my lips. "We can't run away from it, Tim. I thought maybe we could but-we can't."

I knew he was right but I was still scared. For the first time in my life I wasn't in control and I had no idea what to do.

Brian read my mind. "Just let it go, Tim," he said, pressing my palm to his lips. "You don't always have to be in charge. Come on, I'll show you."

We went into the house and into his bedroom. The sheets on the bed shimmered in the pale light coming through the tall windows which looked out on the beach. I thought I knew what was expected of me and I reached for the waist band of Brian's shorts.

"No. Let me do it. Let me bring you pleasure." He gently put my hands to my side and then slowly pushed my beach shorts down, over my hips, until they slid to the floor. He knelt and gently lifted my feet, one by one, out of the shorts and then sat back on his haunches, his hands on my thighs, studying me. I began to grow erect under his gaze which embarrassed me but pleased him. He stood up and held me close, looking in my eyes and pressing his own hardness against my thigh, showing me it was happening to him, too.

He slipped out of his shorts and gestured towards the bed. I stretched out on my back and he lay next to me, on his side, touching me. He let his hand play across my chest and then moved it down, across my belly and into my pubic hair. He rested there a moment, teasing me by tracing his finger around the base of my dick but never touching it directly. When he tired of that he touched my balls, fleeting touches that made them draw up in their sack and caused goose bumps to rise on my legs and arms.

We kissed for a long time while his hands roamed across my skin, playing it like a precious violin. My dick got so hard it hurt but still he avoided touching it, seeming to prefer my nipples which brought me sudden and unexpected pleasure. After a while he rolled me over, saying, "I want to touch your ass."

When I was lying on my belly he pulled himself over me, on his knees, and kissed his way down my spine. I thought he meant to enter me and the thought both repelled and excited me. I was afraid of so many things-inability, pain, mess-and yet I wanted him inside of me in the worst way, more than I've ever wanted to be inside any woman. Brian read my mind again.

"That will come, but not yet. For now there are. other things." He kissed the base of my spine and then moved down, his tongue tracing the space between my buns until it touched my sphincter. No one had ever touched me there before and now-suddenly there was electricity shooting back and forth between us and I cried out with the pleasure of it.

Brian moved lower and took my balls in his mouth, one at a time. He held them between his lips while he helped me roll over onto my back and then, nestled between my legs, he nipped at the wrinkled sack and gave me goose bumps all over again.

He took hold of the base of my dick and looked up at me for a long time. "You are a beautiful man, Tim," he said and then my dick was in his mouth, lying along the velvet roughness of his tongue. When he began moving his tongue he brought me to the edge of orgasm almost immediately. But only the edge, and he kept me there for what seemed to be a very long time. It was as though he knew exactly how far he could take me and still bring me back. And then carry me up to a higher level of sensation, again and again.

I ended up begging him to take me over the edge and when he did I thought it very likely that I was going to die of the pleasure. It went on and on and I found myself calling his name through the waves that took hold of me.

When Brian pulled himself up and put his arms around me I could feel wetness in the crotch hair pressed against my leg. I touched him there and he chuckled. "It happens sometimes, when the magic's there." He kissed me, very lightly, and threw his leg protectively over me. We both fell asleep almost immediately.

I woke lying against him, my head resting on his shoulder. There was enough moonlight coming in through the tall windows to let me see him clearly and I allowed my eyes roam over him. His chest was a flat expanse of tanned, flawless skin punctuated by large, dark nipples. I wondered if the nipples were erect because of the night air or because of something he was dreaming.

Further down, just below his navel, there was a fine line of almost invisible hair that led my eye lower, to the dark thicket of wiry curls at his crotch. I could just see the curve of his penis, relaxed and lying over his balls. His legs were covered with a fine down that was shiny in the moonlight.

My eyes were drawn back to his crotch and I realized that I had never really looked at another man's penis before, at least no more than the quick, comparative glances we all give each other in locker rooms and gang showers. I carefully moved down on the bed so I could see it more clearly.

A man's penis is a beautiful thing and I wonder now why we all go to such lengths to hide it from each other. Brian's is perfectly round and had a sheen in the moonlight, as though it was covered in fine silk. It curved over his balls, smooth and unwrinkled, as though it had recently been hard and hadn't yet pulled back on itself. He has a short foreskin which doesn't quite cover the head, making the head appear larger than it really is. I'm circumcised myself and that collar of skin fascinated me. I mean, I'd seen guys with foreskins before but I'd never thought much about them or how they worked. Why would I?

I thought about what Brian had done to me earlier and wondered what it was like, having a man's cock in your mouth. Oral sex was by no means new to me but I'd never experienced anything like what Brian did to me. On the other side, I'd certainly never been so excited that I came while I did it, either.

I leaned closer, knowing what I was going to do but not yet ready to admit it to myself. Brian stirred in his sleep and rolled onto his side and suddenly his cock was so close that I could see the little slit at the tip. It was dark against the sheen of his cockhead and held a tiny pearl of fluid which glistened in the moonlight. My tongue reached out on its own and took the pearl; it tasted of musk and honey.

I looked at Brian's cock for what seemed like a long time and then, without any conscious decision to do so, I took it into my mouth. It was very strange; his cock had no taste of it's own, it was simply Brian, the taste and scent of the man I loved.

That realization came as a great shock to me: the scent and taste of the man I loved. Brian. His cock began to grow and thicken, swelling to fill my mouth and suddenly it was all too much for me. My thought processes shut down, leaving me to act on the basis of feeling and pleasure alone. I made love to Brian's cock, sliding my lips along the shaft until it was as deep in my throat as I could take it and then pulling back until only the head remained in my mouth. I did it again and again until I was able to take in the whole length of it and my mustache became tangled in his wiry curls.

I pulled back and let my tongue explore the head, looking for that bundle of nerves that is so sensitive on me. When I found it I felt his hands on the back of my neck, a light touch full of gentleness, letting me know he liked what I was doing.

I wanted to help him make it last but I couldn't. I just went on and on with what I was doing, knowing he was close to explosion and not caring. I was feeling his pleasure build and I had to release it, as much for myself as for him. He let me know when he passed the last stop, giving me the chance to back away from it if I needed to. I shook my head, telling him no and pushing him over the edge at the same time. And then he let go and filled my mouth with the salty-sweetness of his manhood.

When he was finally calm and his cock was beginning to loose its rigidity he pulled me up on the bed and into his arms. We lay in silence for a while before Brian turned his head and whispered into my ear, "You are the sweetest lover I have ever had." We drifted back into sleep with those words forming an almost physical bond between us.

When I woke the sun was streaming in through the windows and Brian was lying on his side, his head in his palm, watching me. "Do you know how innocent you look when you sleep?" he asked when my eyes opened. "You remind me of one of those Renaissance angels, untouched by the baser human instincts yet anatomically correct." His eyes slid down my body. "Very anatomically correct."

I realized, without looking, that I had an erection. After everything that had happened during the night it seemed stupid to be uncomfortable about it now so I flexed it, making it jump and making Brian laugh.

We showered together and Brian showed me how his foreskin worked and how he slipped it back to wash under it. It would stay pulled back, too, for a while, and he left it that way, looking circumcised like me. When he began to harden his foreskin slowly slipped back over the head. I knelt in front of him and it wasn't long before my mouth was filled with him and then with his cum. It was more sweet than salty this time.

Afterward, dried and dressed, we went down the road to the Hilton and had an early lunch on the terrace: fresh fruit, grilled shrimp, salad and vanilla ice cream floating in a sea of bittersweet chocolate. After lunch Brian went upstairs with me, to help carry my bags down.

"Great room," he said, looking around. "And look at that view, the whole ocean." He opened the sliding doors letting the sea breeze in. "Seems a great shame to waste it." He took me in his arms and kissed me until I could hardly catch my breath and then he quickly undressed me. Suddenly I was on the bed with Brian between my legs, my cock in his mouth.

He did it fast, bringing me off almost before I knew it. His hands and mouth were everywhere on me and suddenly I found myself doubled over in the midst of the most violent orgasm I'd ever had. The sun worshipers on the beach probably heard me but I didn't care. I didn't care about anything Brian and what he was doing to me.

"And that pays you back for this morning in the shower," he said, grinning at me from behind my dripping cock. "Now come on, let's get you checked out of here and go back home where we can swim naked."

We did just that and then napped together in the shade of an enormous umbrella. Later we ate dinner at a place down the road and walked back hand in hand, oblivious to the few cars that came along. We sat on the sea wall for a while, looking at the stars but it quickly became evident that it wasn't going to be a very comfortable place for what we both had in mind so we left the stars and went in to bed.

We were all over each other, touching, licking, kissing, learning all we could about each other's bodies. When Brian had me doubled over, his face between my buns, kissing my sphincter, I cried out that I wanted him inside me.

"Are you sure, Tim?" he asked, pulling himself up along side me. "I. You're very new at this. Sometimes it hurts at first, until you get used to it. Maybe it would be better." He turned over, presenting his back to me.

"No, Brian. I mean, yes, I want that, too, but. Please?"

He turned back to face me, his eyes serious. "I swear to you Tim, I will do everything in my power not hurt you." His voice was low and very solemn but I could hear excitement in it, too; he wanted this as much as I did. He reached into the night stand and brought out a condom and a tube of gel. He handed the condom to me.

I've put plenty of condoms on-but only on me. When I took hold of Brian's cock I found that I didn't know what to do about the foreskin. He laughed and took hold of my hand, pulling the foreskin back with it. "Now, just pretend like it's yours and put the thing on. Come to think of it," he said, arching his back and thrusting out his cock, "I guess it is yours."

He was very gentle, holding himself against me and waiting for me to pull on him and bring him inside me. It did hurt at first, a hot, searing pain that made me bite down on my tongue so I wouldn't cry out. He waited, the head of his cock barely inside me, until I pulled on him again, bringing more of him inside me. When I had all of him deep inside me he waited again, lying over me and looking into my eyes.

"Are you all right?"

I pulled his head down and kissed him, letting him know I was okay. He sucked the air out of my lungs and then breathed it back in. He did that again and again until things got fuzzy around the edges and we had to stop. Then he moved in me, pulling back a tiny bit, then pushing in. The pain was gone now, replaced by some sensation I had never felt before. When he moved again that sensation was replaced by pleasure, something I had never known that part of my body was capable of producing. And the fullness. I was so full of him I was afraid I might burst.

He knew. I could see in his eyes and his grin that he knew. He began to move again, longer strokes this time. His eyes looked into mine, and what he saw was joy and pleasure-and more than a bit of lust.

His strokes got longer and faster and the pleasure grew. After a while he shifted his position a little bit and a different pleasure washed over me as his cock bounced off something up inside me. I lost track of who and what I was and then there was nothing but Brian's cock deep inside me and even that couldn't contain itself. Everything exploded into a whole new world where there was nothing but the waves of pleasure washing over us.

It took a long time to come back to reality. When Brian slipped out of me he rolled onto his side and held me in his arms. After a while we got up and went for a walk on the beach. We ended up in the water, splashing and laughing and then just standing there in each other's arms, the water flowing around us.

We spent two more days together, much of the time in bed but doing other things too. We toured the island on a couple of bicycles and spent hours over lunch, eating fish so fresh that the chef caught it after we'd ordered. We walked on the beach and dozed in the sun and told each other secrets.

In bed we made love. We fucked too, once or twice; sex just for the sake of lust. Brian taught me to laugh in bed, too, and revel in the sheer fun of making love.

Then it was time to leave.

Brian insisted on riding to the airport with me. After we'd passed the Hilton and were on the high part of the road where you can see miles of white sand and blue water, he broke the long silence. "Everything has changed, hasn't it? Just as I said."

I nodded. "For both of us."

"Yes." He stared out the window for a while. "What are you going to tell her?"

I shrugged. "I don't know, Brian. I really don't know."

At the airport Brian bribed the gate attendant so he could walk out to the plane with me. At the foot of the stairs he hugged me and kissed me, in front of everyone. After I was onboard he stood and stared at the plane until the steward closed the door and they rolled the stairs away.

My time in Minneapolis was short and painful for just about everybody. I'm not really sure they understood the things I told them but Brian says that's okay. They'll figure it all out when they read his next book. He won't let me see any of what he's written so far but he often comes out of his study with the most contented look on his face. He looks the way I feel when I think about us and the life we're making together.

Everything Changes Page 11 by Greg Bowden