HARBORSIDE
11.30.19
A Tale of Two Men by Mike Austin
nasstop@yahoo.com
VI.
Mr. Jaggo complimented Jack on the new hire, and said he was very polite. He took a basket and weaved through the small store, getting items and produce before heading to the meat counter. He really had no idea what Sam liked, but had Mr. Jaggo trim a good roast, cut two steaks thick, cut two pork chops thick and then break down a large roasting chicken. He'd already gotten other items, when he forgot- COOKIES, Mrs. Jaggo's cookies. She beamed as he approached and she had already packaged 18 for him. He bowed and she grinned back, somewhat flustered by the gentlemanly gesture that Jack made toward her. She too offered compliments about that new chap, Sam. Jack was impressed that Sam had made such an impression on these folks as well. He felt secure with his decision to help Sam, hire him, get him a key and.....................................
As he passed the bar, he noticed Sam inside, entertaining the small group of men and women with stories, jokes, a little dance; when Ms. Gale came out the bar door, shaking her head at Jack, "that Sam man, he has a gift of gab and is a born entertainer, and very easy on the eyes too", she staggered a bit and winked at Jack, then headed up Water street toward the bluff where her small cottage clung to the side of the road on the hill. How many men had fallen for her praise and how many more had hurt her intentionally, Jack wondered at her resolve? Jack stood facing the bar window when Sam realized his housemate was on the street staring in. A quick wave to Jack, a spin to his crowd and a deep low bow, and salute then retreat out the front door to join Jack and head home. This time it was Sam who was in need of bracing as he staggered just a tad and fell against Jack, "sorry me Jacko", came the thick short phrase from Sam. "Just need to regain my sealegs, or landlegs, well you know", Sam continued mumbling something indiscernible. They turned onto Harborside and Sam grabbed Jack and pushed him backwards to the side wall of the corner building, "You know, this fucking incredible good fortune of mine is all fucking due to you my friend, YOU" Sam shouted. Tears filled his eyes as he reached for the key and held it before the two men, "my very own fucking key, do you see this, my own, my fucking ex-wife never even let me have a key of my own to my own fucking house", he fell to the sidewalk, broke into tears and wailed openly in the afternoon at the corner of Water and Harborside. Jack struggled with the grocery bags, to get Sam back on his feet and make their way up to #7. "OK key man, use it and open our fucking front door with YOUR KEY", Jack demanded. Sam complied proudly, mumbling "my key". Once inside, Sam made his way to the back yard to pee. Jack again took in the Sam Sausage- chuckled to himself and began setting away the groceries and lastly, set the bag of cookies on the counter for later. By the time he'd finished in the kitchen, Sam was inside, naked on the sofa and passed out. Jack stood stunned and staring at the younger man, out cold and completely naked and unconcerned. Jack's cock throb hard and full, he reached for his bulge and squeezed, his dick throbbed back, the message of lust and need. It had been more than seven years since he allowed his feelings and his lust to take charge. With every heartbeat, he felt his dick throb, the ache in his scrotum was deep and intense. He pulled his own shirt off, sat in his chair before the fireplace, pulled his steeled dick from his jeans and began to stroke. The precum coated his head, then shaft, fingers, hand and crept slowly into his pubes. He fought his passion and jabbed his dick back in his jeans, stood, zipped up, reached for the quilt and tossed it over the sleeping young man on his sofa, in #7 this Saturday afternoon in Bayside. He climbed the stairs, unsure how much longer he could control that passion. Once upstairs, he stripped and climbed into his own bed in the cool room overlooking Harborside Ln. What little sun had been, was now immersed in grey-blue snow clouds. The wind drove small branches in circles. Jack knew that before long the snow would resume, the squirrel would scamper back to the hole in the tree, his hand would encircle his dick and pump faster and faster to orgasm and relief. How much longer again, he thought?
At 7pm, Sam pulled himself up on the sofa, looked around, felt his head spinning and his legs cold, as the quilt had slid off him and onto the floor. He lay naked, the cold room no longer nurtured by the fire, was dark and the wind drove small twigs against the small windows of the
back door. The darkness was ominous and singular. He stood, braced himself against a chair, bent to stoke the fire with another pair of logs, grabbed shirt and jeans and crawled in them and stumbled upstairs to locate his friend. Was Jack even here, he thought? At the top of the stairs he heard Jack's snoring, and relaxed. He was not alone. The cold dark room wrapped around Jack's bed, single chair, 4 drawer chest and small night table- all that was this man's in his room. Sam glared at the window, realized the snow was steady now, felt the window yield to stirring drafts from outside. He shuddered, walked to the window, stared again, turned, lifted Jack's quilt and slipped in beside him The older man, his housemate, his friend, did not move; but slept soundly, snoring softly as he had found him. He settled onto a pillow to sleep.
Clay/Mike Austin email: nasstop@yahoo.com