Jason's First Workout -- Chapter XIII -- The Three Big Talks
Dear Readers:
Thanks for all of the emails and the encouragement to keep this story going. Dozens of you have asked for my inspiration pics of the characters, and I'm happy to keep sharing. Just email and ask. Sorry about the number of typos in chapter 12 and the mis-numbering. Trying to work too quickly without an editor. Hopefully all resolved this time.
Please keep reading, and if you enjoy this story and the site, remember to give what you can back to Nifty so that we can all continue to get off here! http://donate.nifty.org/
Best, Coach Luke. Olcoach44@gmail.com
(New chapters (5 and up) updated to present day: Luke age 56, Brock 48, Jason 34, Butch 32, Joe 40, Chase 28, Sam 26).
Brock:
The sweat dripped from my forehead as I lined up my lubed head with Luke's hairy hole, pulled back the foreskin even further on my purple head, and then pushed into his tight outer ring. He moaned explosively, shifting his hairy legs that were thrown over my shoulders and I continued pushing into that tight, hot, velvety hole -- my cock's very own home. I'd forgotten how much I loved to fuck my man.
"Fuck baby," I told him. "I can't believe you're this tight after I've already shot one load in you."
"Ah, just fuck me, B," He moaned again.
An explosive line of storms had blown through mid-morning, cutting out our power (and A/C) and meaning Luke's working from home for the day was over. After a quick lunch, we'd gotten naked and started with hot foreplay in the den. After some heavy 69 on the couch, Luke had bent me over the sectional arm and fucked me hard and fast, cumming quickly and making us both cry out. We'd run naked back to the bedroom where I'd rimmed him for a good 20 minutes and then fucked him hard and fast face-down in the middle of our bed. After a half hour or more of kissing, rubbing, and more sucking, I was now taking my time in a leisurely fuck of my hard, hairy man beneath me.
"God, Bud, your ass feels so good on my cock," I growled into his neck, licking the sweat below his ear.
"Just shut up and fuck me with that big damn cock," he growled back. "I need you to breed another load in me."
"It may be a bit, Baby," I said, licking his ear to elicit a groan from him.
"Damn, you know that makes me crazy," he whispered.
"This does too," I smiled, starting to circle my ass, fucking the upstroke in slow circles as I long-dicked him, popping his prostate on the upstroke every time. I could fucking play his ass like a fiddle again. It had been too damn long! "My big strong top-daddy likes being his boy's bottom-pussy?" I snarled, knowing that dirty-sex talk was another of his triggers.
"Fuck me and quit talking, you big-dicked pussy," He yelled and I felt his ass squeeze me like a velvet glove. Fuck! My man was turning into a power-bottom! What a damn surprise after all this time.
"Shit baby, you're getting me worked up again," I growled.
"Give me that big fucking cock, man," He commanded, and I felt his hole grip me again on the down-stroke. I reached for his lubed, cut cock between us and began to stroke him with my right hand while bracing our fuck with my left arm. He dropped his legs around my waist pulling me in tighter and pulled my shoulders into him with his big, strong hands. I started to fuck him harder as I jacked his cock.
"Oh yeah, Brock," He moaned. "Fuck the hot cum out of me, Baby. Put another load in my ass like that first one." I felt one of his hands pull around to my muscled ass, pulling me in tighter and harder. Two fingers felt around my hole.
"Fuck yeah," he panted. "Feel my first load seeping out of this tight pussy. Going to feed my second one all over my hairy fucking man!" I felt his cock expanding in my hand and I knew he was close. I stroked my cock into his hole faster and pummeled his piece with my tightening grip.
"Oh yeah, baby. You like being your big-boy's cunt? Ride this big cock, fucker," I teased. And with that last dirty talk I felt his asshole grip me hard and then his cock exploded between the two of us, unleashing his second load of the afternoon all over my hand and his hairy abs and up into my chest and face. I licked an errant drop off the side of my chin.
"Just a bit longer, Stud," I panted and lifted his legs back up, pinning his ears about his head and I started pinioning my cock into his ass. "Take this fucking man-cock, Stud!" I pounded him for another five minutes before the pressure in my cock felt his continued Kegel's gripping my cock head and I shot another load. "Cumming you fucker!" I cried out and collapsed onto him, dropping his legs and burying my mouth on his, tasting the last bits of his cooling cum on our lips. I panted into his face for a moment or two until I could speak again.
"Fuck!" I finally exclaimed, moving my face into his left pit and smelling his ripe, sweaty manliness. "Mother fucker! I love you so much," I said to him and to no one. I licked up his pit and over to his left tit, suckling it for a moment as he pressed the back of my head into him, grinding his limp wet cock into mine.
He pulled my head back and looked into my face. "I love you too, Fucker. Especially when you talk dirty to me and corkscrew that cock in my ass."
He was smiling into my face, and I felt so god-damned in love with him at that moment I could have eaten him up! "I mean it," I said. "I can't imagine ever loving someone as much as I love you right now and every day, dammit."
"I know," he laughed. "I know. But I also know, you're just well-fucked at the moment."
"You're well-fucked," I argued, and then realized he was right. "But I told you before. Without a dick or ever cumming again, I'd still love you anyway. Even if we couldn't..." He put a finger over my mouth.
"Shush," he said. "I know, Bub. But that's not going to happen for a very long time. I hit the jackpot when I got on that website," and he pulled me into another long and sensuous kiss. My tongue lost itself in the soft, lush warmth of his mouth. How could a man so hard and so hairy on the outside, so chiseled and still taut have such a tender and succulent mouth, I wondered. I relished it, our tongues lashing and fighting in bliss, and damn if my cock didn't give a twitch. Ah, the spirit is willing.
I rolled off of him as we both came up for breath. I nestled back into the curve of his arm, my few extra inches of height meaning I had to snuggle down and bend my legs to curve into his side. I stroked the hairy planes of his well-defined pecs and still hard core, as much from memory as feel. I knew every inch of this man of mine and I still treasured it, still marveled at his ability to turn me on so much. He spoke from far away almost, lifting me from my reverie and startling me with the sound.
"I thought you would get bored being home and not working. And then I thought you'd go on a Doctors without Borders trip and find some great excitement away from me and I'd lose you. I'm sorry I didn't trust us enough, B." he said all in one breath.
"Wait. What?" I sat up looking into his handsome brown eyes. "When did you think that?"
"Last winter, when you retired? I was scared all of it wasn't at the office. That part of it was because you were also getting tired of me, my bullshit, my OCD-ness, the always-having-to-be-right, all of it," he confessed.
I pulled him into me now and nuzzled the side of his shaved head. "Ah Baby, how could you ever think that? Is that why our buddy down there was having problems occasionally? You thought I wasn't into it?" I asked.
"I don't know. Maybe?" He said hesitantly. "You're just so damned much sometimes. So intense. So fucking handsome. And virile. I've been afraid of losing you, afraid of getting old, just so damned afraid! But these few weeks since Jason got back. I don't know what it is. We've fought a lot!" He laughed and I did too. "But it's like, I've felt we've had more purpose. Like, having to work on him has given us more to do? Maybe it was this damned fucking quarantine had me in my head so much, I don't know." He paused.
I held on to him tighter, letting him speak it all out. "I didn't doubt our love," He started. "Maybe I just doubted myself some." I pulled away from him, looking at him squarely.
"I have never doubted you or our love," I said solemnly. "And you haven't either! But it's okay to be scared sometimes," I said softly. "Getting older sucks. I feel it, too. But we have each other. Always. And we have the kids. And soon, a real-live baby to love!" I gasped, astonishing myself at how much just that thought gave me joy. Me, the once-determined-gay bachelor about to be a Grand Dad. "Whatever comes," I told him again. "I'm here for you, you handsome fuck!"
He grinned. "I love you, Brock Goodman. Damn I do!"
I fell back on the pillows next to him and laughed. We were a real god-damned gay Hallmark movie. I couldn't believe this cheesy shit. And I loved every minute of it. I hoped it would never end.
Joe:
By Thursday morning, Jason and I had fallen into a bit of a routine as far as our work and play schedule. After our adventurous sex on Wednesday morning, I'd managed to get some serious work done on my manuscript. After lunch, he'd been in full CEO mode via zoom and satellite links. By 4 PM EDT or so, I was tired of laptop typing and at his direction explored the finished crawl space below the deck. While there wasn't really height enough for me to workout down there, I could move his squat rack, lifting racks and the mixed bag of about 220 pounds of iron up onto the deck. With a makeshift rack I created, I could store the iron against the house to protect it from elements but the `gym' itself would be at the mercy of nature. Still, I was good and sweaty by the time I set it up and while the amount of weight was limited, I had a quality lifting session for an hour as the heat of the day began to lessen and the sun to wane.
Jason found me after his last zoom call in nothing but a jock and some loose knit shorts. I'm not gonna lie that the sight of the bronzed stud with his new shadow of dirty-blond beard made me chub. But a true gym rat, I walked him through some of my routine and was proud when I could see that he knew his way around the equipment and was pretty damned strong in his own right. He said Coach Luke had taught him everything he knew. By this time, I was pretty damn hot for him and we were both sweating buckets and ripe.
"Is this where he taught you `everything'?" I asked him, squatting down on top of him as he lay prone on his back on the press bench. I could feel the strength of his thighs beneath my taut ass and I grabbed both of his bare, lightly furred pecs beneath my meaty hands. Then I pressed forward and rubbed the length of my hardening shaft over his hard abs.
"You want a fuck right out here in the gym? Didn't you get enough of my cock this morning?" He challenged me.
"I think it's time you get a dose of your Mountain Man Cock," I challenged back. "Especially since I spent my afternoon hauling your equipment up from the basement and getting it all cleaned and set up just for your pleasure." I growled and leaned forward, still working his pecs with my hands as I ground my hardening cock into his crotch and lowered my mouth to his. We swapped spit and tongue wrestled until we were both hard as the iron we'd been lifting. I licked down from his mouth to his throat and then moved my hands to where his were on the barbell. I licked down his hard, flexed bicep to his sweaty left pit, inhaling the heady aroma of man musk and sweat and then burying my beard and mouth in the sweat-filled cavity. I licked and sucked the hair, tasting his man-juice before I searched out the right arm, licked the entire bicep from elbow to shoulder and then sucked the right pit juices from his hairy spot too. I worked my way back to both tits, suckling on one while I pinched and pawed the other, back and forth until I felt him pressing up into me and moaning in ecstasy. My boy loved nip and pit play. Note taken. I felt an early evening breeze caress my naked back and across my sweaty lats as I licked and sucked down the ridges of his six-pack abs through the hairy pleasure trail to my destination. I jerked the loose drawnstring shorts down and nosed into the side of his sweaty jock pouch, admiring the way his erect cock was straining from the top. I nuzzled each side of the pouch, licking and sucking the sweat from his hairy crotch and pressing my face into his cock and balls. He kept moaning.
"Damn, you smell fine and ripe, Jay," I mumbled. "I could lick you all over."
"Go ahead," he chuckled. "You'll get no complaint from this gay-boy!" We laughed together and then I shift off of him quickly, pulling both of his hairy legs up into the air and bending him back up toward the barbell on the bench. I slapped both of his hairy cheeks -- those perfectly hard buns dusted in blonde fur- and then buried my face -- mouth, tongue, beard, nose and forehead- into his dusty crack. The smell of my boy, sweaty, ripe, and unprepared was so heady I almost passed out. I tasted the day on his taint, licking his puckered hole and devouring him. I wanted to press every part of my face into it but after rubbing his essence all over my face, I set to work with my tongue, mouth and two fingers, opening him for the assault I planned to mount, literally, with my cock. He was eager, hungry for it.
"Oh God, fuck yeah, Joe. Eat my fucking ass, stud," he moaned as some of the more intelligible sounds he made while I reveled in his hole. "Goddamn you're a fucking good rimmer."
"Rimmer?" I scoffed. "This ass is a cello and I'm Yo-yo Ma." We both laughed at that one but mine was directed into my work. By the time I'd satiated my mouth-lust, his pink hole was dripping and hungry. I spit on my turgid cock, pulling back my foreskin and exposing the head and pointing it at his waiting fuck-hole. "Do I need to go get a rubber?" I asked, remembering his command of the morning.
"No, fuck me raw. That was for me. I've got to wait, but I'll take your word on the Prep. Just give me that monster cock," He moaned. I lined him up and started to drive him home. My boy was willing, but still, it'd been almost a week. His hole was tight and he finally relaxed and willed enough that my head popped past his first ring and he took the first 3 or 4 inches with a moan. As I started to drive forward, he winced and I pulled back a bit, remembering he was wet but I was un-lubed.
"You okay, Muscle Stud?" I slapped his right cheek with my right hand.
"Fuck yeah," He said, wiping his chest and abs with his left hand and taking some of that sweat and reaching down to coat the exposed part of my cock. Grabbing it deftly, he assisted and guided the remaining six inches or so slowly into his hole until my pubes were pressed against his golden orbs. "Oh fuck, Joe. Keep it right there a second."
I leaned over, sweat dripping off my forehead into his face and buried my tongue into his mouth. He took it, swabbing it with his own and I grabbed his lower back with both hands and began to piston into him. He wrapped his strong, sweaty legs around my back above him and met me thrust for thrust. I'd had a hard, busy afternoon, and a hard work out and bent over a press bench fucking was hard on my glutes, quads, and abs, but I didn't feel much pain -- just the intense pleasure of my cockhead, burrowing into my fucker's hot, wet hole. Holy Fuck, he was tight and pulling me in tighter!
"Damn Stud," I moaned into the side of his sweaty face. "I'm getting close already." I kept pistoning my rod in and out, in and out.
"Yes, right there, yes, and my cock on your abs," he moaned, "yes, fuck it out of me. Fuck, fuck, fuuuuck!" I felt his ass constrict like a velvet fist and then his cock was shooting up in between us, mixing a load of fresh cream into the sweat of our hairy chests and cores. The tightening along with the heady fragrance of our ripe sweat mixed with his load sent me over the top. I reared back and rabbit-fucked my load home, shouting his name over and over along with multiple expletives until six or seven bursts later, I collapsed back down upon him, burying my face in his neck.
He moaned but not necessarily from joy. "Fuck. Fuck, Joe," He pounded my back. "I can't breathe, you heavy fucker!" he choked. I sat up part way, my softening member falling from his wet, used hole with a flop against the end of the leather bench top. I braced my hands on his shoulders and looked down into his sweaty, beautiful face.
"That's what I call a workout, Stud," I laughed. I extracted myself, stood, and reached down and squeezed some last drops of cum and sweat from my soft cock into his face. Then I reached to pull him up. The ripped knit Stanford baseball shorts were in two pieces on the boards of the deck. I pulled Jason too me, pulling the top of his jock back up over his now softening cock. With my left hand I pulled him to me and with the other, I reached around him and felt his ass, rubbing the wet hole now dripping with my cum and our sweat. I kissed him softly.
"Shower before supper?" I asked. "I'm cooking."
"Oh, hell yes," he laughed, breaking away but pulling me by the hand into the cabin.
After we showered, I'd heated up two of my salmon protein meals and he hadn't complained. He had some white wine with his. I stuck to water. We sat and just talked for a while but I could tell he was starting to tire after supper.
"Are you ready to hit the hay?" He asked. "I think it's been quite a day."
"In a bit," I said. "If you don't mind, I think I may stay up and write for a bit. Then, I'll just sleep in the guest room like we talked about. Do you need to get into your `office' in there for anything else?" I asked. He had a pouty look but didn't argue.
"No, I'm done for tonight. But you know, maybe it makes more sense if I set up my office out here or in my room. Then you can have all of your stuff in one space in the guest room if that's where you're going to sleep," he offered.
"Hey bud," I said, moving over to him on the couch and putting an arm around those amazing shoulders. "We talked about this. I take up a lot of damned room when I sleep. We'll both sleep better in our own beds, at least, when we're talking about two queen beds like you have here. We've fucked twice today. You know it's not like I don't like you or anything..." I laughed, nuzzling his cheek.
"You're probably right. It's just. I don't know." He faltered.
"Tell me what you're thinking," I demanded.
"it seems like we should sleep together if we're fucking. But what you say is logical. It's just, my dick isn't logical." He laughed, realizing how funny it sounded as it came out.
"And I wouldn't want him to be!" I agreed. "Let's talk about the room working space tomorrow. I'm only here for a few more days so no sense making your life any crazier than what I've made it today, okay?" I looked at him squarely. He nodded and smiled. My stomach clenched. Damn. This guy made me crazy! I kissed him. Then, not wanting the moment to be too serious, I stood up quickly and jerked him up, squatted and hauled him into a fireman's carry. I took him through the door of his room, plopped him down on his bed, and then tickled him for a bit. I fell on him and kissed him.
"Good night, little Buddy," I teased in my best Gomer accent.
"Little, my ass!" He argued. "And I still have to brush my teeth!"
"Okay," I relented, getting off of him. "I'm going to work some more."
I moved to the kitchen, rebooted my laptop and opened my doc in progress. A few minutes later, I felt his two strong hands on my shoulders and then he nuzzled my neck.
"Good night," he said into my ear. "Thanks for the workout and hot fuck. Sleep well."
"You too," I said and he went to bed. An hour or so later. as I flipped and flopped trying to get myself adjusted on the diagonal in his guest room bed with just a sheet over me, I realized I needed to get up again and adjust the ceiling fan. I did put off some body heat. Probably another reason not to make him sleep with me all night. Again. What was I thinking? I tossed and turned for a good hour, relieving the events of the day, trying to reconcile my growing feelings for the man in the next room with the reality of our situations. I thought about my research article and outlined my next day's work. I focused on the smell of Jason's pits in my mouth and his ass on my tongue. No, I could not go down this road I thought as I placed a hand on my balls. Not again. At some point, sleep finally overtook me as I began to dream about what life might be like if I let another man back into my life, perhaps a handsome, sexy man like Jason Perry. Was it just a great sex partner that I'd finally found? He was so damned good in bed. But I hardly knew him. And the bottom line was, could I trust him? Could I ever trust any man again?
Thursday: Jason-
I awoke to a humid mountain morning and checking that Joe was still snoring on his back, sprawled across the diagonal width and breadth of the guest bed, i chugged some water and then headed out on my morning run. The high temperature at that early in the morning warned of storms to come and I realized I wouldn't make it far this morning, especially after the lifting session (and fucking session) Joe and I had shared late yesterday. I returned and had showered before Joe awoke. Even though my work day started later, Joe had clearly been worn out or else stayed up later than I had. By mid-morning, we'd both gotten into a quiet routine. Joe had risen, showered, made his shake, and with a few pleasantries gotten right back down to work at the table. I had made a breakfast mid-morning, quietly, so as not to disturb Joe too much and then had started work in the guest bedroom where I found the bed neatly made and all signs of Joe put away.
By the time the storms rolled in mid-afternoon, we'd both been quietly hard at work for more than four hours.
"Holy Shit!" I cried out from the guest bedroom desk as the thunder clapped ominously overhead. I quickly saved my work and powered down my laptop, afraid to keep working if we'd surely lose power if things got much worse.
"Sounds like the ceilings caving in," Joe hollered back from the kitchen. "I've been watching the wind pick up for the last 15 minutes or so and rain can't be far behind." And then I heard it, the deluge hit the roof and the windows simultaneously, drowning out most sound. The sky was dark and the trees were moving in all directions.
"Better save and shut down," I said, walking into the kitchen behind Joe. "The generator kicks in automatically five minutes after loss of power but it's for the fridge, a/c, and specific receptacles. I had your guy wire the internet into one of those."
"Smart thinking," he said. "So, you have heat in the winter too?"
"Well, I have the buried propane tank that Dad insisted on. We have a battery pack on the tankless hot water heater so it manages to ignite the flame so we always have hot water. Also," I added, pointed to the range, "gas stove. I can do pretty well in an ice storm unless the pipes freeze. Now with your satellite, unless the dish fills with snow, we'll also have phone and internet service."
"We?" he questioned?
"You know what I mean! The royal we. Uhm, whomever." I stammered.
"Hey, I could eat," he said, changing the subject. "Want to have some lunch and watch the storm from the porch?"
"Well if it's blowing this hard, we'll get soaked, but I could eat from here." I said.
"Deal," he responded. "I'm can eat my protein cold and put it on some greens," he got into the fridge and started pulling out things.
"And I'll make a sandwich on this protein bread I bought." I added.
We both moved around the tiny kitchen, avoiding each other's touch, and made our lunches. Then Joe moved his laptop and we both sat next to each other at the same side of the table, facing out the kitchen window and watched the storm, eating our lunches to the sounds of thunder, the flashes of intense lightning and intermittent hail on the roof.
"Damn, I hope that doesn't break the park service truck windshield," He said over a mouthful at one point.
"I'm thinking I shouldn't have parked my jeep under the oak," I said, looking to the left toward where I always parked it. We continued to watch as the storm rolled over us. I heard the a/c kick on and realized we still had power, so that was good. How long, I wondered?
We'd both finished our lunches, cleaned up, and had moved on to the couches in the great room, each of us taking up one across from each other. I finished my water and he continued to nurse his diet tea. Neither of us seemed to be in any hurry to complete our work assignment and the dying squall was a good distraction. I was still astounded at the sheer mass of him sometime. Reclining, his mass took up nearly the entire couch across from me. My couch, same size, held me on just the end and center cushions. He really was a mountain of a man. I studied him as he sipped, looked out the windows behind me, then looked at me. He was definitely watching the storm but occasionally eyeing me. I pretended not to notice until I couldn't any more.
"What?" I finally demanded.
"Just watching the storm," he said shyly.
"Bullshit," I countered.
"Okay. You're distractingly handsome. Is that what you wanted to hear?" he said softly, his rich baritone a burr of sound that got me hard instantly.
"Not so distracting that you didn't get your work done, right?" I teased.
"We said last night we'd focus on work. I'm not sure I have your stamina to fuck five or six times per day." He teased back.
"Five or six times? You been talking to my exes? I don't think you and I have done more than 3 times in a 24-hour period so far." I joked. "And besides. You picked me up and body-slammed me on the bed last night, after we'd had our outdoor party. I don't think stamina is an issue for you. Just look at you, you take up the entire fucking couch!" He laughed.
"Just because I'm big and muscly," he groaned with that fake awe-shucks drawl, "Don't mean I din't plum tucker out sumptimes..." He smiled at me and I felt my stomach turn and my cock lurch. Would there be some afternoon delight perhaps? Probably not if we were teasing about how tired he was. Then as if reading my thoughts, he reclined back on the end of the couch, and stretched his long legs up on the couch, though he had to bend at the knees to bring his feet onto it. "I may just need to shut my eyes for a minute. Gran used to make us lie down during storms. I guess I'm still trained to nap when they're this bad."
I smiled and watched him in `relaxed man' mode. He was a mammoth god of muscle and bone but so quiet and shy sometimes, almost, what was the word? Retiring? He opened one eye and caught me observing.
"Now who's eyeing who?" he asked.
"Whom." I said, hearing Luke's voice echo in my brain. "And yes, I was just admiring the mammoth view of you. You, too, are distractingly beautiful sir." I answered truthfully. "I'm astounded that you are still single after all this time." And then hesitantly, I added, "Whatever he did, he really must have hurt you."
He clearly heard me but didn't stir to respond and I almost feared he'd fallen asleep. Then he raised one large muscled bicep over his face and stretched his long, left leg over the end of the couch, extending that foot over the arm. He resembled the large panther of his research and I realized even though he was so large, he was stealthy and catlike and so graceful. He mumbled and I had to say, "What? Did you say something?"
He started over.
"We met our freshman year at Furman," He started. "He was two doors down from me in Blackwell Base. Probably the worst frosh dorm there. Concrete blocks, one window."
"I know the one," I said. "Pretty gross even in my time."
"Oh, don't act like it was so long after me. Anyway, he was also in my Chemistry class spring semester. We started walking to class together some during the late winter and I learned he was going to be an English major, maybe. He wasn't very good at science and I offered to help him prepare for labs and tests, since we were hall mates," Joe began.
"And it didn't hurt that he was cute, right?" I teased. "He had to be cute right?"
"Well, remember, I hadn't ever been with a guy at that point. I was a virgin in more ways than one at 18," his deep voice mused.
"How many ways can there be?" I asked.
"Well, you know. I told you. I was from the mountains of Pickens County. I was there on an academic scholarship. I was not what you would call worldly -- not like the brainy experienced behemoth you see before you now. I was 6'5", 215 soaking wet, thin and gawky and walked hunched over. I'd jerked off with one buddy from high school, but we'd only done it once and were bot so scared and embarrassed after we spent our entire senior year avoiding each other. I was not a gay boy poster child by any means. But Mark, was, well, Mark. He wasn't overtly out, but he was so polished, so well-dressed. I mean this guy's clothes probably were worth more than my entire house and property. A different set every day. Even his shorts and t-shirts were designer. And I, I guess I was kind of star struck by all of that. AND the fact that he was blonde, blue-eyed and gorgeous. Today, we'd call him a twink but back then, I didn't have that terminology."
"So, blonde twink, smaller than you, I'm guessing, and rich," I encouraged him.
"Oh yes. Clearly from money," He added. "Mark Tradd St. Croix. Old Charleston money. Daddy was a banker, Mama a socialite and Furman alumna, uncle was a minister and Furman alumnus. Lots of `connections.' By that night sometime after Valentine's Day when his roommate went home for the weekend and we had a big test on Monday, he'd set me up pretty good. Opened some bourbon that we drank straight (I'd never had nothing but beer) and within an hour my head was spinning and he was on his knees in front of me, my cock in his mouth. You should have heard him when he unzipped me. I mean, Damn, he'd probably spied me in that gang shower but he wasn't ready for it semi-hard. But he obviously had sucked cock before. He couldn't deep throat me, but he worked it. And in that state, and my virginal age, I must've shot within two or three minutes. And then he surprised the fuck out of me and drained me dry. Drank it all, then sat up and kissed me. Another surprise. Then he dropped his drawers and stuck his nice rod in my face. Probably about 6 inches or so. Prettiest cut cock I'd ever seen hard up until that point and fuck! I didn't know what to do, but he coached me through it and before long, I must've done okay and he shot in my mouth. We spent that night and most of Sunday popping my cherries. His was the first ass I fucked. He clearly was not a virgin -- I think he said he lost it to the gardener or chauffeur or some staff man with a big, uncut cock. He loved uncut."
"Wait, and he fucked you too?" I questioned.
"Oh yeah. I'll never forget it. Damned near thought I'd die, but there was enough bourbon and enough lube and finally after a long while, he was pretty patient, he found my prostate and well then, I came without touching my cock. No wonder I fell so hard for him. He was my damned first. And he was so cocky and sure of himself. Like he knew I'd end up falling for him. We snuck around the rest of that semester and then we roomed together for the next three years. He dated some girls when his fraternity functions required it, but he had enough money to bluff his way out of living on their hall his sophomore year. He said they only wanted his name and money. Anyway, I worried he'd find one of those hot KA frat bro's to fuck and eventually leave me but he never did. I mean, out of all those damned rich frat guys who were so studly, why'd he stay with me? I just thought I was the luckiest shit in the world. When I needed to study, he understood. Outside, we were roommates but in our dorm room and then our on-campus apartment, we played house. I thought I'd died and gone to Heaven. My Furman years with Mark were probably the sweetest of my life. It wasn't until he decided to follow me to graduate school at Clemson that things started going a bit sideways," he intoned.
"Wait," I said sitting up. "What happened to go sideways? His parents?"
"Oh no, I think his Mama knew from the start he was gay, but they all pretended not to notice. IF he was fucking the gardener at 15 I don't know how they didn't, but his Daddy relented and let him go to Furman because I think he knew. His Daddy was a Clemson man. Mark was the only boy. Two younger sisters. They wanted an "heir" but by 18, I think they knew him better. Anyway, we'd talked about for our whole senior year. I was limited for graduate school based on where I could get a T/A position to pay me. I couldn't apply to the most competitive graduate schools for wildlife biology or management even if I could get in. Not all of those provided stipends and a fellowship. My Furman advisor had a Cornell classmate who was doing wildlife management at Clemson and he got me an interview. With my grades, it was pretty easy, but I didn't know about funding until almost March of my senior year. Mark, meanwhile, had applied to MFA programs in Creative Writing at Columbia, NYU, Yale, Missouri, and Vermont. Probably some others I didn't know about. We had decided we'd go to grad school for two years and if we could handle the distance, we'd get back together somewhere and live together again. At the end though, he didn't get into any of them and it knocked him for a loop. I mean, he'd never studied like I had, but I read his stuff. Some of his short fiction was pretty good. His erotic stuff inspired by the two of us was really hot, but I guess I was biased. You couldn't find that stuff in print much then and the internet was just starting, right?"
"So how did he follow you to Clemson?" I asked.
"His Daddy pulled strings. At some point before FU Commencement, he told his father that he had not been able to get into the programs of his choice and he hadn't applied to Clemson but now he'd changed his mind. His Dad made one phone call that weekend and on Monday, Mark was in their MA program in Creative Writing. He moaned to me that it was a cow college and they knew nothing about writing, but he said he was excited. We'd be together even though we thought we'd be a part. Of course, I was ecstatic. I loved him. I was relieved. Before, I had thought he was finally going to leave me. Go out there to some fancy school and meet another fancy guy like himself, so yeah. I was just so relieved. But by October at Clemson, stuff started to go down and it just started getting really harder," He said, turning on the couch to face me.
"What kind of stuff?" I asked quietly. "Did he abuse you? I mean, verbally or something?" He laughed at me.
"Mark?" he barked. "Hell, even scrawny as I was back then, I could've taken him. But yeah, Mark could get mean. The bourbon should've been a clue that first weekend. But we were in college! I mean, we drank and we partied. I didn't as much as him because I was a pretty serous student and NOT in a frat. I didn't go to most of his `functions' but occasionally I did, with a female date and without. He was very clear that we had to keep our relationship a secret. Until our senior year. At some point in late spring, he was drunk and decided he needed to come out to his frat. Luckily for both of us, he passed out in our apartment before he went through with it."
"You didn't want to be out? Were you afraid or just embarrassed?" I demanded.
"Oh shit. I don't know. I mean, I'd spent three and a half years with this guy and I'd learned a lot, we'd done a lot, but honestly Jason. I hadn't learned what it meant to be a gay man. I was just a college student, studying all the time to keep my grades and my scholarship. Going home once a month to have dinner with my Gran. I mean, I had a roommate that I fucked around with and who made me feel really good. He was handsome and mostly good to me. I mean, other than Gran, I'd never had anybody. And this guy, who smelled so damned good all the time wanted me to be his roommate. And said he loved me. I mean, it didn't bother me that he thought we should only keep it in our room. That was how the world was, right?" He looked at me.
"I guess so. I mean, Doc and I have talked about this. About how for him, in the early 80's, his only possible gay role models were those on the news dying of AIDS. He was married before he even realized he might be gay," I answered.
"Well, I mean, I knew I liked boys. I'd never been with a girl, and wasn't attracted, so it didn't take a degree in Biology to figure that out. I told you about my crush on Coach Luke! It was just the politics of it, and I guess, growing up. I was the first person I know of in my family to get a college degree. I was going to get a graduate degree (I hoped) and I was trying to stay focused. But we got in that little dumpy apartment in Central (I insisted on paying half of everything with my stipend) and Mark went gay-crazy. He was going to be out and proud in the English Department. Join the "whatever gay club" was called back then. Started wearing a lot of black. Then, he said we needed to join a gym. I mean, I'd always been a runner since high school and I wasn't fat, but I was a tall, lanky dude. He wanted to be cut, he said. Bigger. So instead of working on his classes and his writing, he began writing for this subversive gay paper at Clemson. We both joined Gold's Gym even though I couldn't really afford it. He got a personal trainer and wanted to train me. I mean, I'd been a high school athlete. I knew what to do, but I let him sort of take charge. Like I did with a lot of stuff, I guess. But it was hard. By the end of that first semester, I had to teach to classes in spring term and start my field work in the experimental forest two days per week. Mark didn't want to get up early to work out or work out too late in the day. We started fighting about stuff. And the weekends!" he said exasperatedly.
"What happened on the weekends? I questioned.
"Well, the first time," Joe began, "he went to Atlanta with some of his friends from the gay club. I learned later that he, of course, paid for the whole thing. Hotel room, club entrances, drinks. But the first couple of times, I didn't know that. He just came back telling me there was an entire `Gay World' out there that we were missing and next time he was making me go with him. So, I did. And I got my eyes opened big time?"
"Drugs?" I asked quietly.
"Oh, if only." Joe smiled at me. "Drugs. Sex. Devices. Multiple partners. I mean, Damn Jason. I wasn't a prude. And I'd read Mark's porn mags and jerked off when he wasn't around, but he was the only guy I'd fucked at that point. I LOVED him! And then, we went and he's showing me the fancy hotel room. And we're drinking at the bar. Then at 11 PM, I'm ready to go to sleep thinking we're going to have hotel room sex, which I'd never had at that point. Not sure I'd ever been a hotel as fancy as that high=rise in Atlanta. And he says, no we're going clubbing.' And he puts on, I mean to call it clothes would be a generous statement, these see through shorts and some kind of mesh tank. It was winter! And I say, I don't have anything to wear like that, you know me. And then he surprised me. He said, I'm so damned sick of you and those jeans and flannel shirts. You dress like a straight guy.' He'd never really insulted the way I'd dressed before and my feelings were hurt. But then come to find out, he'd bought me clothes to wear. I never wanted him to give me stuff, though I usually relented on my birthday or Christmas. But this shit. Don't laugh okay?" he looks me dead in the eyes.
"I ain't laughin'" I looked on seriously.
"Gold lame." He chuckled. "I shit you not." I burst out laughing.
"Seriously?"
"Seriously. It was like my old high school basketball uniform if the shorts had been made for a guy who was 5'5" instead of 6'6". They all but cut off the blood to my balls. Even in a jock (which he loved for me to wear), it was pretty obvious I was carrying this snake (he motioned to his crotch). And the tank top definitely highlighted the gym work we'd done since moving to Clemson. I felt grossly uncomfortable, but after another drink I let him drag me out."
"And? How was it?" I prodded.
"Honestly?" He looked me dead in the eye across the room. "I loved it."
"Yeah?" I questioned.
"Yeah. The music, the guys all jammed in together. Part of me could understand how he'd felt. It was like we'd found our tribe. I just fell in and started dancing. I didn't really know I could dance or remember ever feeling like that, but I'd had a couple of drinks and a few puffs of Mark's regular evening joint and I felt great. Those first moments that night were unforgettable for me. It was wild. I hated the damned clothes and kept pulling the shorts down out of my crack but after a while, I just lost myself in the beat and I loved it. And it was great, until Mark got jealous." He said suddenly.
"Jealous of what?" I asked.
"I guess a lot of guys liked having a taller guy to dance with. I mean, I was just in a crowd -- not really paying attention to anyone. Guys kept bumping into me but I just thought it was crowded. And it was hot! And other guys were taking off their shirts cause we were all so sweaty, so I did too. And, I'd let my hair grow out a bit from my short, styled cut in college and you know how curly and crazy it gets. I was sweating and pulling it out of my face, and just smiling and dancing. I didn't notice Mark getting madder and madder."
"About you dancing?" I asked.
"About guys dancing all around me. Trying to get my attention. Rubbing up against my ass, my crotch, rubbing my pecs. I was just feeling the love. Mark was not. Apparently, though I thought he definitely looked hot as fuck and I did rub his ass in those mesh shorts a lot, he thought I was stealing all the attention since, as he said, `the regular gays think you're fresh meat!' And I guess I was, but I didn't know why he was so pissed. Then, he grabbed my arm and said this place was getting sick and nobody who was anybody was there so we were leaving. So, he drug me out of there and out, where it was freezing, but there were cabs waiting. I remember thinking vaguely, this is like New York City. I'd never been in a cab either. It was a weekend of quite a few firsts."
"Wow. I said. It does sound kind of exciting. I mean, I tended bar at the Hanger over by the airport, that old gay bar in Greenville right after graduation," I added. "But it wasn't that exciting. Just some old queens and occasional college students drinking. It was never really a big dance club. I didn't have that experience until Cali."
"Yeah. I was kind of stoned and definitely star-struck. But that's how it always was with Mark and me," He said. "It was when I would wake up the next morning, usually after something he talked me into, that I would say, `what the fuck did he get me into.' That night, next up was a leather bar, two partnered bears, andEcstasy. I can honestly say I don't remember much, but I do remember I insisted on a condom even when one of them had me in a sling and was insisting he only fucked raw. Finally, Mark stepped in and said he wanted the guys cum and they banged him, taking turns while I watched, I think. My ass was clean but sore the next morning. We cabbed back to the hotel, showered, slept a bit, then drove home. The next time Mark begged me to go with him to Atlanta for the weekend, I begged off. I needed to study, or prep for my classes, or do field work. I never went back with him. Then, he started going every weekend. That was the beginning of the end."
"But you loved the clubs, right?" I asked.
"I did. I would've loved to have gone again with the Mark I thought I knew from freshman year. Who cuddled me in his dorm bed and said he wanted to be my first. Who said I was the most handsome and sweetest guy he'd ever met. I didn't want to go back with the drugged out slut I saw in that sling that night. It made me sick to think about it. We really hadn't talked about being with other people. His coming out had sort of made us a couple by proxy with that Clemson group, but I still hadn't told anybody. Not that I really cared. I just wanted to be in his orbit. But, the way he'd talked about my clothes, and how he'd looked at me that night. Then, getting mad when he was the one who'd dressed me up like a boy-toy! He should've known we'd get hit on. We were two, 22-year-olds! Fuck."
"Wow." I said. "Just wow. I'm sorry you had to go through that."
"Thanks." He said, "But it just got worse and worse, Jason. He was snorting coke in the apartment, not just on weekends, but all the time. Popping pills and then bringing other guys home. He said they were doing creative writing exercises in his room, but I knew they fucked when I wasn't there. By the end of that summer when our lease was due for renewal, I told him I was moving out. He got mad and told me he was moving to Atlanta anyway. He was moving in with some older guy he'd met at his leather bar. I was just shocked. And sad. I slammed the door to my room and just left him there. Then later that night, he was drunk, and just stood outside my locked bedroom door, crying and banging on the door. I didn't see him again for almost four months after that."
"I'm so sorry, Joe. I know how hard it is when the guy you love disappoints you and breaks your heart," I heard myself saying with a hitch in my voice.
"Yeah, I guess you do." He smiled at me. "One good thing was, I moved some stuff home that next week in between apartments, and I cried to my Gran and told her everything. She said she'd always suspected I was gay, and she knew I loved Mark more than just a roommate, even though that was all we'd ever said. Said she wasn't stupid, just poor! Which is the kind of shit she always says. But it was good. She held me for 3 or 4 days and let me cry it out. Said I was star struck by all that money, but all that money would just bring him unhappiness in the end. By the time I got back to Clemson, and my new apartment, I felt better. And I started work on my thesis research and just fell in love with what I was doing. And it was good. I almost didn't think about Mark for weeks until one weekend he called me. He said he was in jail in Atlanta and he needed me to come get him. Gave me an address and hung up. Well, it was 4 AM on a Sunday morning, but I got up, showered, and drove to the address in Atlanta. Found the building. It was some kind of holding cell for drunks and druggies. They wouldn't release him to me unless he signed a release that he was going into a rehabilitation center. He would have 12 hours to report and they gave him some flyers and pamphlets. So, I spent the next 10 hours driving him to the apartment where the `daddy' he'd been with had thrown about half of his stuff to the curb, packing that up, finding a place to store it (on a Sunday) then checking him into some kind of expensive rehab facility in mid-Town. He cried. He thanked me. Said he still loved me. Said he regretted ever leaving me. And I believed him."
"Oh, Joe," I sighed. "You didn't?"
"Yeah," he laughed. "Fool me twice, but..." and his voice trailed off into a hiccup. I got up and moved to kneel on the floor next to him. I put one hand on that huge, broad chest.
"What happened next?" I whispered.
"I didn't hear from him for about six or seven months. I'd already defended my thesis. Was set to graduate with my MS in May. Dr. Lawrence had helped me get my acceptance and T/A position at Florida and I was going to move to Gainesville on May 20th. Gran was so proud! I mean, she didn't understand why I didn't get a job as a park ranger in Pickens and just move home, but no one had ever gotten a Ph.D. in the family. She was through the roof about me earning a doctorate. But that last Friday in April I got a call from Mark's Mama. Mark had OD'd in Atlanta. They'd gotten to him in time, but he was now in a facility in Charleston. He was suicidal. She asked me to come. Said she had no right to ask after how Mark, how all of them really had treated me, but she thought he might respond to me." He barely whispered.
I cupped his strong bearded face, watched the tears build in his eyes. "Damn her! She had not right," I said protectively. "What happened?" I asked. "When you got to him?"
"At first, he didn't recognize me, and I barely knew him." He said flatly. "He was so gaunt, so wasted away in just half a year. And I, I'd been working out. Not like now, but I'd kept up with my gym routine and had finally filled out into my height. He glared at me and finally said, `what the fuck are you doing here?' He was this little scrap of a thing, in these baggy hospital-issued pants and shirt. He looked so damned strung out and helpless. I couldn't help myself. I just walked up to him and picked him up and hugged him and started crying. And then he was crying, saying how sorry he was. Saying, I was the only one who'd ever really loved him. His Daddy didn't love him. His Mama just treated him like a pet. I was the only one. It broke my damn heart all over again."
"Oh God, Joe," I said, holding his hand now and wiping his face with my other hand. "You don't have to finish it all now. This is enough," I said.
"No," he whispered. "I'm almost done. I left him there. I mean, I had to. He was supposed to be there for another month at least but then if he was good, they'd release him to a half-way house where he'd be monitored but could start to live his life again. I told him about Florida and about coming out to Gran. He said he was proud of me. Said he always knew I was a much better man than him. I told him I was leaving in two weeks but I'd try to get down to Charleston on my way, but he said for me not to come back. That he didn't want me to see him like that. He promised that when he was better, and he promised me he was going to get better, he said he'd come visit me in Florida. And I believed him. Again."
"Oh man," I said, putting my head on his shoulder, not able to look at his crumpling face. He went on softly through his tears.
"The morning I was going to graduate from Clemson, his Mama called me again. Mark had managed to secure something to hold his weight, his sheets or shirt or something he rolled up, even though he was supposedly on watch, and, well, he hanged himself in his room. He'd broken his very last promise to me. I missed my graduation. Packed up my apartment. Called Gran to tell her, and moved to Gainesville," He said flatly, drying his eyes. "And that was that."
I pushed him as much as I could, and crawled up beside and partly on top of him. I held him and whispered, "I'm really sorry, Man. That is the saddest story I've ever heard."
"No," he whispered back. "Shit happens. A lot worse than that to some others. People let you down. They leave you. They lie. It's just human nature. I got over it." But I knew, deep down beneath all of that muscle and heart and after all these years, this man was not over it. Just then, I felt his cell phone vibrate in his pocket. He stirred.
"You need to get that," I asked.
"Yeah, it could be Gran," he answered. "I hope she and O'Della are okay in this storm. Should've checked in on her already." He pulled out his phone and looked at it.
"Damn," He said.
"What now?" I asked.
"It's Frank. He's Miss O'Della's oldest son. The realtor guy?" He looked at me and I must've looked blankly. "He helped me find the house right down from his Mama. He's been kind of an advisor to me and Gran since I moved back. He's texting that I need to come talk to Gran. She and his Mama have gotten into something."
"Gotten into something?" I asked. "What kind of something can two little old ladies get into?"
"You haven't met my Gran yet," He drawled. "And Miss O'Della. God, she's worse than Gran!"
He extracted himself from me and the couch and stood to leave. "I don't know how long this might take but I'll be back to get my stuff tomorrow if it gets too late."
"Wait," I shook my head. "You're going back to the house?"
"Well, I don't know. Let's just see what this is about. You think we need to walk the drive to check for downed trees before I start to drive it?" he asked.
"Yeah, we better," I said. Then before he turned, I put my hand on his arm. "Hey," I said, "I know it was hard to tell me all that, but for what it's worth. I'm sorry. It does sound like he really loved you though. As much as he could."
"Well," he grunted, shaking that large, dark head. "Let's go check that drive." And we walked out into the aftermath of the storm.
(TO be continued... Sorry, I couldn't get to the third big talk! We'll get to it in Chapter 14!)