JOHN DARLING'S COMA
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Because Gary insisted, John left his girlie underpants on for their nap. Getting undressed, fat Gary said, "Set your phone's alarm for five of seven, Darling. That'll give us a little over an hour of nap time."
Doing that takes two seconds as John sits on the side of the bed, mumbling, "Okay, the alarm is set, Gary."
Gary sits next to him and puts his arms around him, "Um, okay, ah, well, I want to say you've been great; it's a pleasure to be with since, um, well, since your spanking, which I HATED doing, by the way. And thanks for leaving your underpants on without an argument. Yeah, it's a small thing, but I've always worn underpants in bed unless, you know, unless we're fucking or whatever. So, yeah, life is so much better when we're getting along. Thanks for being such a great guy, but let's get to sleep now."
"Yeah, sure, Gary. Good talk! I don't like arguing, either..."
They get under the covers, and Gary wraps his arm around John, "Okay, me too, but could you please stop moving around so much?"
John sighs, then murmurs, "Sorry," even though he desperately needs to rustle around a little bit more because Gary's arm is too tightly around his stomach, stretching his skin. Not wanting to upset Gary, though, John puts up with the too-tight arm situation, hoping Gary falls asleep quickly.
This has been an extraordinary day, John arrogantly bantering back and forth with Gary, being a wise ass for no reason except, maybe, unconsciously, he wanted to see how much Gary would put up with, but even as he was doing that, he questioned himself: Why are you antagonizing your dominant boyfriend?
Yeah, that's a stupid thing to do, and it ended with Gary spanking him. He's overweight, but Gary is strong, too. Anyway, by now, John admitted to himself that he deserved what he got. The alternative could have been Gary dumping John as his boyfriend. John had no real reason for smart-mouthing Gary, who even let a lot of it go before he'd had all he could stand. Yeah, John kept at it until Gary snapped out. The craziest thing is... John was enjoying being fat Gary's boyfriend and had no complaints at all, so there was no reason to be giving Gary shit.
Then, lying here with Gary's arms around him, remembering what Gary said about being boyfriends forever, John got shivers all over. The concept of 'forever' about anything is not something that had ever entered John's mind. Still, simultaneously, for unknown reasons, the thought of being Gary's boyfriend forever is kind of a thrilling thing to contemplate. That thought mysteriously made John's cock tighten up really tight!
Listening closely to Gary's breathing now, John finally decided to take a chance. Slowly sliding tighter against Gary's fat, flexible body loosened the pressure of Gary's arm around John's stomach, allowing him to slide two inches up Gary's hairy chest to a comfortable position. Ahh, nice. John thinks, 'I used to think hairy guys were not cool, but Gary's hairy chest is macho sexy, for some reason.'
John had quickly gotten used to how hairy Gary was and now almost grovels in Gary's body hair, thinking, macho, macho, macho man. After a little more snuggling against Gary's pillow-like, hairy body, John grins and murmurs to himself, 'I do not want to screw this relationship up! He's so mature and adult-like, I feel almost like an adult myself when I'm with him.'
John feels safe with Gary, too, really appreciating him as a dominant authority figure with the toughness to back it up. He sighs and grins happily.
He's not tired, though. Instead of falling asleep, John tried to understand what it was about Gary that made being held against his fat, hairy body so desirable. Desirable even with Gary's thick beard covering the side of John's face... 'Why do I enjoy him so much? There is no 'love' from either of us, so what is it?'
Well, Gary smelled good from Michael Jordan's 23 cologne, but he had a nice scent without the cologne, too. John's coma/Boston best friend, Andy, has a natural, sexy scent to his skin, too. It's just that John cannot figure out why he likes being held by Gary more than being held by Andy. What the hell is it? It's frustrating not being able to explain, even to himself, why he's so attracted to fat Gary Thomas.
He tries convincing himself that his boyhood friend, Dickie might even be a better dominant top than Gary, but can't make himself believe that. And that's weird, too, because he's loved redheaded, over-freckled Dickie Marshall as a friend for fifteen years. So, he's right back to the question... What the hell is there about Gary Thomas? Grinning, John slowly pulled his arm out from between their bodies. Then, his eyeball looking up, he rubbed his fingers through Gary's goofy-looking black-as-shoe-polish flattop hair, John's dick tightening up again.
His fingers skim across the top of the hair, thinking, ' Ah, Mr. Barber, can I have a flattop exactly like my boyfriend's?' Oh, fuck, he giggles, thinking: I almost shot off some precum thinking that dip-shit fantasy.
John concludes that his infatuation with fat Gary has to be something extremely unique to elicit a positive subconscious psychological reaction that, in John's mind, makes Gary's dominant act better for John than any other. Hmm, is it something Gary does that reminds John of Brian? No, no way, they're very different. His last question to himself before drifting off to sleep was: What could it be?
John's phone alarm does its job, going off at five minutes to seven. It startles John, who jerks his body, and Gary mutters, "Easy, pretty boy, your knee is against my nuts."
Sliding back slightly from Gary's body, John murmurs, "I'm sorry," and Gary takes a deep breath, "Whoa, this blows, bro. I've got a little hangover from our afternoon of drinking free beers. Would you get me a couple of Tylenol from my toiletry kit and one of those warm cans of Pepsi? Oh, and tell Dickie we'll be fifteen minutes late."
"No problem."
John gets out of the nice warm bed and quickly puts baggy shorts on over the girlie panties he wore to bed, then steps into his sneakers. Without a shirt, he goes to the vending machines in the back of the Motel 6 building. The Pepsi machine gives change, so he uses two one-dollar bills to get Gary's Pepsi, then walks back around to the front, taps on the door for room 24, and hears, "See who that is, nurse!"
A minute later, the door opens, and Andy, just finishing pulling on a pair of shorts, smiles, "Hi, Johnny!" and sticks his head out the door so they can kiss. Andy says, "We'll be fifteen minutes late. Tell Gary, okay?"
Smiling, John says, "Sure, but that's what Gary wanted me to tell Dickie. The same thing. Um, if this isn't too personal... ah, are you happy with Dickie being your boyfriend, Andy?"
"Yeah, I'm crazy about my Huck Finn lookalike boyfriend. You're thrilled with fat Gary, aren't you?"
"That's the crazy thing. I am thrilled with him, but I don't know why I can't get enough of him. He gave me a spanking earlier today if you can even believe that, and I still think he's awesome. I deserved getting spanked."
Andy murmurs, "Omigod, tell me about that when we have the time with just us girls!"
Sputtering, John says, "Goddammit, Andy, we're NOT girls!"
"I know that, Darling. Um, what'd you do to piss off Gary? Maybe I can get Dickie to spank me tonight."
"What? I didn't mean it was a good..."
Dickie calls out, "Get in here, Andy!"
Grinning, Andy murmurs, "Quick, give me another kiss, best buddy." They kiss again, and then Andy quickly says, "Don't agonize over why you're happy with Gary. And you know I'm always here for you if you need me."
Dickie yells, "ANDY!"
He makes a goofy face and tells John, "We're lucky to have these two guys... really lucky, so try not to fuck everything up. I love you, you know..."
John doesn't want Andy to get in trouble, so he cuts Andy off, saying, "Uh-huh. Me too, Andy. I'll see you in fifteen minutes!"
Inside room 23 again, John gets two Tylenol from Gary's satchel, then... oh, there's Gary's phone with a picture of his boyfriend, John Darling, as his phone's home screen. The picture was from this morning outside the Darling house. Gary snapped the picture without John knowing, and then, did he purposely make it his home screen?
Gee, it made John's eyes sting that Gary thinks that much of him. He's as infatuated with John as John is with him. John gets emotional, and a big, fat, warm tear runs down his cheek as he's thinking, 'Gary really does like me...'
Could it be that Gary was actually serious about maybe John and him being together forever? He bites his bottom lip, not sure what to think about that. There's no way he could be with fat Gary forever, is there? No, but now he feels pressure not to let Gary down.
Gary appears to be sleeping as John stares at him, noticing again that he'd be handsome without the beard. And if he'd lose the flattop and thirty pounds... or, jeez, twenty-five might be enough, there would be guys giving John competition to be Gary's boyfriend. Gary has a swarthy complexion to go with his manly beard, plus he has a very healthy look about him with fine facial features, especially a fine-looking nose. That's the perfect size nose, with perfect nostrils.
John grins, thinking how silly it is that he mentions Gary's nostrils, and then a picture of Mickey Wright from high school pops into John's head. Omigod, Mickey's outrageous pig nostrils were big and round and looked right at you, and you look right into both nostrils when looking head-on at Mickey. Haha, and there were usually a few nose hairs fluttering out as he exhaled.
Shaking his head, getting that picture out of his head, John gently shakes Gary's shoulder, and Gary's eyes pop open. He mutters, "Did you get them?"
Handing him the Tylenol and can of Pepsi, John says, "Yes, Gary. Um, and Dickie had the same message for you that you had me tell him... he'll be fifteen minutes late.
Swallowing the Tylenol with three gulps of warm Pepsi, Gary hands John the can, mumbling, "Thanks, you're a good boyfriend, Johnny," and he gets out of bed.
John's eyelids flutter, his eyes stinging again as he grins because it's rare that Gary calls him by his name. Then he thinks, 'Call Me By My Name' was a good movie starring that delicious young actor, Timothee Chalamet.'
Still, John was taken aback by Gary telling him he was a good boyfriend when calling him Johnny. John muttered, "Thank you, Gary. And, um, I just want to tell you that I think you're the best boyfriend I've ever had, and I've had a few. Um, that's isn't brown-nosing; it's how I sincerely feel in my heart."
Getting out of bed, Gary goes, "Oh goodie, we're having a meeting of our mutual admiration society."
John puts his arms around Gary's neck and kisses him on the mouth. "No, I'm serious. I really like you, and I'm going to stop being a pain in the ass."
Gary looks surprised, then says in a serious manner, "Well, thank you, Darling. I really like you too. That's one of the reasons we're boyfriends, right?"
Actually, the reason they're boyfriends is because fat Gary decided they were boyfriends on his own. He'd decided that before Dickie suggested the boyfriend couplings they're in right now. And who cares if a few facts get twisted around about how it happened? Everyone is very pleased with the two budding relationships, so good for them.
By the time Gary drives everyone to the restaurant Dickie chose for dinner, the two Tylenol had eliminated Gary's headache. Inside the restaurant, waiting for a table, Gary was standing very close behind John, his arms around him, his lips against John's ear, murmuring, "Tonight is the start of a major diet for me. You deserve a boyfriend with a better body than my fat one. So, I'm thinking that for every five pounds I lose, you should gain one pound. Are you up for that challenge, pretty boy?"
Hearing that, a scary thrill zips from John's balls to his brain, thinking... Omigod! Jeez, he really was serious about us being together forever.
John gulps, "Yeah, sure, Gary, but I like your slightly overweight body just like it is," and he realizes he does like Gary's blubber. That wasn't a lie.
Fat Gary says, "Don't lie to me. Lying that will get you another spanking."
"I'm not lying.."
Dickie, from in front of the reservation desk, interrupted, calling over to them, "C'mon, Gary. Bring your boy; our table's ready."
Taking his arms from around John, Gary mutters, "C'mon," and grips the back of John's neck, guiding him to follow Dickie and Andy, saying, "This Monday night, Darling, you'll spend the night at my apartment, and I'll lay out ground rules for us, and you can ask any questions you might have. Just the two of us will be nice for a change, huh?"
"Yes, Gary. What kind of ground rules, um, for example?"
"For one, you'll start working with Dickie and me, although it'll be only a two-day-a-week part-time job for you to start. Plus, you'll move in with me as soon as I get the okay from my landlord. He has this program... um, well, we'll talk about it. And there are a few other things..."
John's shaking a little because he thinks what Gary's saying is insane, but he wants to do these insane things anyway. Gary has some kind of magnetism that John doesn't understand, but he can't get enough of it.
He says, "Oh, uh-huh. About the diet, though; um, tonight I'll start my part of it by ordering something for dinner with a lot of calories."
"Not only tonight, every meal, pretty boy. You put on five pounds, and, let's say, I lose twenty-five; we'll see how we look then."
Nodding in agreement, John subtly puts his hand in his pocket to move his hard boner to the side. At the table, John sits in the chair Gary guides him to. Gary sits down next to him, then smiles at him, murmuring, "We're going to be a hot couple in six weeks or so."
John, for some reason, giggles, then nods his head, smiling at Gary. Andy asks, "What was funny, Johnny?"
Shrugging, he mutters, "What?"
Fat Gary didn't order a beer like everyone else; he had water, and for dinner, the restaurant's motto of something-for-everybody included a vegan veggie platter without the dressing, and that's what Gary ordered. Dickie was like, "What the fuck is that, Gary?"
"I'm on a diet! I want to be skinny like you three."
Andy's like, "You're not, um, I mean, not excessively fat." Dickie adds, "I've seen much fatter people than you, Gary. Remember that kid my old man fired at work? Um, Freddie-something. I think he might have been even fatter than you."
Gary gives Dickie a dead-eye stare until Dickie runs out of stupid things to say, then Gary mutters, "Let's not talk about it. I mentioned the diet so you'd know what's up. Now that you know what's up, don't mention it again."
Both Andy and Dickie look at John accusingly, like it's his fault, until Gary says, "Darling didn't have anything to do with my diet. It was totally my idea." John nods in agreement, deciding not to mention he needs to put on five pounds.
He orders a creamy paste dish for dinner, figuring that will have a lot of calories, then apple pie a la mode for dessert, with Gary grinning, subtly nodding his approval. Feeling very stuffed outside the restaurant, John lights a cigarette, which Gary takes from John's fingers, murmuring, "Thanks. Cigarettes, you told me, kill the appetite, right?"
He gives John the best friendly smile John's gotten so far, and he smiles back, leaning against Gary, who puts an arm around him. Lighting another cigarette, John says, "We're off to a good start, Gary," as if this diet arrangement was a mutually agreed upon plan they came up with together.
Gary says, "I'm committed to seeing it through for both of us. I've got free weights you need to begin working out with. Adding muscle will help you gain weight. Muscles weigh more than fat by volume. I mean, a pound of fat weighs as much as a pound of muscle, except the muscle is half the amount of, um, matter or volume, or... whatever." He chuckles, adding, "I don't know..."
John is looking at Gary differently now. He's feeling affection for him, feeling compassion that Gary all of a sudden does not like his fat body. John thinks... Gary's doing this for me, and he wants us to be boyfriends forever. What should I do?
Dickie and Andy are goofing around, Dickie trying on Andy's cowboy hat, saying, "I picked this restaurant because it's within walking distance of the gay club we're going to."
Andy says, "C'mon, Dickie, give me my hat."
"Nope, you wear my hat; I like yours better."
Andy's grinning as Dickie's muttering, "Get over here, nurse," and he puts his arm around Andy's neck, and they do a quick kiss. Gary quietly says to John, "Your friend, the nurse, is in good hands with Dickie. You've known Dickie for, what was it you told me, fifteen years?"
Nodding, John says, "Yes, fifteen. Gee, I want Dickie and Andy to be as happy as I am with you," and that gets a grin from fat Gary, who mutters, "You are one sweet-talking, cute motherfucker," and he hugs John against his flabby side.
Tonight, all four guys are dressed in Western clothing, cowboy boots, and cowboy hats. Earlier, for their sightseeing/beer-drinking afternoon, they wore shorts and sneakers, but they're out on the town tonight, so they dress like almost everyone else in Wyoming/Colorado.
In Boston, of course, they would draw a crowd of curious gawkers dressed as cowboys, but not in Colorado.
The sign at the big gay club's parking lot advertised live music and, in much smaller print that there was a cover charge of twenty dollars to get into "The Purple Time Private Club."
It's only nine o'clock, which is pretty early for a nightclub, but already the big parking lot is half full. As they're walking from the parking lot to the front entrance Dickie and Gary talk about a time two years ago when they ran into one another at this club while Dickie was still in the closet, and blah, blah, blah, laugh, laugh, laugh...
The two submissive bottom boys, Andy and John, grinning at one another, nodding at their dominant guys like... aren't they the best? Then, walking around to the front of the club, there's a line to get to bouncers who are checking ID. The guys get in line, Gary's holding hands with John now, asking him, "Can you dance, pretty boy?"
"Yeah, sort of," and Gary says, "Good, because I like to dance."
John wonders, 'Can fat people dance?' Then, looking at the people standing in line, there are more straight guys and girls in line than he expected to see. He can tell they're straight guys because gay guys don't come to a gay club with female dates. Plus, the straight guys act a bit intimidated although they are on a gawking, semi-mocking trip to see what gays do.
There are obvious gay guys waiting in line, some wearing pink Western outfits and acting out, making sure everyone knows they're gay. Also, some less obvious gay guys, but their outfits and interaction hint at gayness pretty strongly, and why shouldn't they act out any way they want? This is advertised as a private LGBTQ+ club, so it's the straights who are the outsiders.
Then there are the less obvious gays like Dickie and Gary, who don't act gay at all, except for the fact they have boyfriends who they fuck. You can make a good guess there are more gays like Dickie and Gary in line than any other type.
Then there is Andy, who has been out as gay for many years and inadvertently advertising that he's gay by his natural sissiness and lisping way of talking. Lastly, there's John Darling, who is gay and normally would fall into the Dickie and Gary category of straight-acting gays, except when he feels like doing it, he purposely mimics sissy-swishy-acting Andy with fake lisping and a limp wrist act.
This is a private LGBTQ+ club, but you can join the club if you're twenty-one or older by paying the twenty-dollar cover charge. So, it isn't one of those snooty-difficult-to-qualify for admission private clubs. They have about three hundred new one-night members most nights.
The line moves quickly; they show ID, pay twenty bucks each, and walk into a large, loud, barn-like bar. Right away, it's obvious that the 'live' music is a DJ playing a kind of music John hasn't heard before. The room is like a big barn but with tables, a dance floor, and then a stage way up front where the DJ works. There are bars down both sides of the room and corny disco lights above that alternate with flashing-colored lights that are disconcerting until one gets used to everything.
As the line outside indicated, there is a mix of gays and straights, with gays probably outnumbering the straights five to one. The dress is overwhelmingly Western, with cowboy boots and hats on most of the guys and some of the girls. John gets the feeling Fort Collins attracts a lot of visitors and vacationers. The ones dressed as Andy dresses back in Boston stand out like the tourists they are.
John, Dickie, and Gary don't give a second thought to the Western clothes, but for Andy, it's like watching a Western movie. Cowboy shirts with vests, fringe on both the shirt and vest. Then, some guys are wearing only a tassel vest with tight jeans, boots, and Cowboy Hats. There are gay paisley bandanas, overly decorated embroidered Western shirts, white cowboy hats with pink hat bands, lots of fringes on shirts and vests, and elaborately decorated cowboy boots. So, for Andy, it's a dizzying display of clothing choices.
John doesn't notice that, but for him, it's really cool being in a gay club for the first time. On the dance floor, there are many more guy-guy couples and more girl/girl couples dancing than girl-guy couples, as you'd expect in a gay club. The music is so loud you need to shout to be heard. Dickie shouts, "Let's get drinks, then grab a table."
Gary yells, "I'll get a table, pretty boy; get me a bottled water."
Then it hits John how seriously Gary is taking their opposite diets. John nods, "Okay, Gary," and he follows Andy and Dickie to the closest bar. All the bars are busy and congested because guys and girls get their drinks and stand with friends blocking the bars... idiots. Andy spends some of the five hundred dollars he and John took from the ATM back in Boston, buying them all bottles of beer and bottled water for Gary.
Making their way through the ever-thickening crowd, Dickie yells his question at John, "What made Gary decide to go on a diet?" John shrugs, shaking his head and yelling, "I don't know. He just told me about it when we were waiting for our table at the restaurant. That's the first I heard about it."
He doesn't tell them he did mention a diet to Gary at some point... he can't remember when, though.
The table Gary was sitting at was small. There were larger tables near the front door that kept opening, letting in chilly air, and it's getting cool in Colorado this time of year... almost October. Gary holds up an aluminum foil ashtray and yells, "Let me bum a cigarette, pretty boy."
John looks around, noticing just now that there are a lot of smokers in here. He goes, "There's smoking allowed inside a public building?" Dickie says, "It's a private club, so I guess it's not considered a public building."
Whatever, John sits close to Gary, and they both light up, watching a steady line of mostly gay guys in small groups joining the party. A smoke haze drifts around in the twenty-foot-high ceiling, fans lazily blowing it in swirls. Dickie is the talker, mostly directing his conversation to Gary as John and Andy lean their heads together, acting silly, giggling as they critique the sexiness of the guys walking by them.
Finishing the bottled beer quickly, Dickie sends Andy for glasses and draft beer in a pitcher, which is a lot cheaper than bottled beer. Gary yells to John, "You go with him to help with the glasses."
They need to go to a bar on the other side for draft beer, where John pays for two pitchers and four plastic cups. They get justled in the crowd on the way back to the table, beer spilling on both their tight jeans. Andy yells, "It looks like I pissed my pants," and they grin at one another, happy to be together as best gay buddies.
When the disk jockey takes a break, the much quieter club music is shocking, but only initially then the loud voices everyone uses become a constant roar in their ears, and yelling continues to be the norm for conversation. John's amazed by Gary's willpower to ignore the beer, especially when the drinkers around him begin acting a little drunk, which isn't obvious to the beer drinkers but is to a non-drinker.
The DJ pumps up the sound again, then Dickie goes for another pitcher of beer, and Gary yells, "C'mon, pretty boy, let's dance." John gets right up, holding out his hand for Gary to hold, and they make their way through the tables to the dance floor; John gets his ass patted and pinched a dozen times but doesn't say anything because he isn't sure if Gary would chuckle or start fighting with an innocent ass-pincher.
It's a fast tune, and John asks, 'What the hell kind of music is the DJ playing? I never heard any of it before."
Gary starts moving to the music, muttering, "It's club music. Electronic or something. It's all about the beat, ya know?"
No, John doesn't know, but he's immediately amazed at how smoothly and coolly fat Gary's dance moves are. He makes John feel awkward and stupid with what he secretly used to feel were pretty cool dance moves. Not now, though. So, yeah, some fat people can dance their asses off. John concentrated and tried his best to keep up while, seemingly, without even trying, Gary danced circles around John. On the other hand, Gary didn't seem to notice or care how John danced. He was enjoying himself moving with the music.
They danced for twenty minutes to any music that came on, much of it sounding pretty much like the one before it. Finally, a number came on, and Gary said, "I don't like this one," although to John, it sounded like all the rest. He said, "I need to pee."
Gary pointed to the corner of the dance floor where a sign said "LAVATORIES," then yelled, "Don't do any urine play in there."
"What?"
Shaking his head, Gary yells, "Just kidding... never mind. Buy a pitcher on your way back after your pee."
Nodding, John makes his way to the lavatory, and Gary heads in the other direction. It's a very busy men's room, but not an especially big one. There are ten urinals uncomfortably close together with no guard walls between them, and every urinal is in use with a long line waiting for an open one.
The man standing behind John in line, muttered, 'You've gotta be kidding me. Is this the only men's room in this giant barn?'
The opposite wall has five sinks, soap containers, and towel dispensers. John gets out of line to walk to the other side of the wall of sinks. On this side are two rows of toilet stalls, five in each row and a shorter waiting line. The stalls have doors with a large gap at the bottom, offering little privacy. John stood last in the line.
A boy in front of him turned, looked at John, and stared. After a few seconds, John said his favorite word, "What?" His first thought was, 'If this kid is twenty-one, I'm forty-one.' The kid asked, "Are you a model or on TV or something?"
Shaking his head, John mutters, "No. How old are you?"
The kid was one of only a handful of guys without a hat or boots. He has brown hair cut short and combed forward with short bangs combed up in front. He has red sneakers on his feet, a Western-style shirt, and tight jeans. He's a couple of inches shorter than John, as slim as John, and cute as a puppy dog, and doesn't look much older than a puppy. He says, "I'm eighteen; why?"
The line moved forward as two older men came out of a toilet stall. John frowned, watching them leave, and the kid mumbled, "Why do you look surprised? They were screwing in there."
Still making a face, John says, "No shit. What is an eighteen-year-old boy doing in this club?"
He says, "I'm William, by the way, and I've got good ID."
With his hands, John sort of jesters at all the people in this lavatory, and the kid says, "Yeah, this stupid club only has this one men's room... can you believe that?"
The line moved up, and now John only had William and two middle-aged men, plus a young guy who was by himself waiting ahead of him for a toilet stall, and he really needed to pee, and guys with the same problem were now lining up behind him. Watching a very young-looking guy come out of a stall with a man looking old enough to be the young guy's father, John mumbles, "I'm calling bullshit on your ID lie. No one in the world would believe you're twenty-one, no matter what kind of fake ID you had."
"Oh yeah? My brother is one of the bouncers checking ID at the door. He believed it. Heh-heh, you didn't expect that, did you? You're a good-looking fucker, but you don't look much older than me."
"Uh-huh, that's so not true. And you're a good-looking fucker too."
John is just now realizing he's more than a little drunk. He watches one guy come out of a stall with toilet paper stuck to the back of his jeans. William points at that, and he and John snicker, John's arm on William's shoulders. John and Andy, and now John and Gary have so much physical contact that, to John, it just seems normal to touch who you're with.
The music is almost as loud here as on the dance floor. John asks, "Hey, William, do you know what kind of fucked up music they're playing?"
"You don't get out much, do ya? Don't you know about musical genres? Disco, Synth-pop, Diva House, Hardbag, Homo hop, Hyperpop, Glam Rock..."
John goes, "Alright, alright! That didn't tell me anything."
Willian says, "Let's share a stall. I mean, if all you need to do is pee. If you need to take a dump... never mind."
John looks back at the line forming behind them and mutters, "I should have waited for a urinal. I've got to take a piss so bad I can taste it, and most of these guys want to get their rocks off in a stall with whoever they're with, taking forever."
William mutters, "We're with each other; stick with me."
All of a sudden, three people walk out of two stalls, and those in front of William take the empty stalls. John has got to piss bad by now; he says, "Yeah, thanks for sharing the toilet."
Another single guy leaves a stall, and William mutters, "Let's go. What's your name, by the way?"
"John Darling," and they walk to the empty stall at the end of the row, William saying, "No, seriously. What's your name? I like to know who I'm pissing with."
They go into the stall, and when William closes the door, John makes a face, "Oh, balls! That fucker actually did take a shit in here."
William whipped out a nice-looking long penis and muttered, "Yeah, it smells like ass in here."
Now John's fixated, staring at Williams's piss stream that started right up. There was no hesitating like some guys have when someone is watching. John slowly takes his penis out, noticing it's about two inches shorter than Williams, but William doesn't appear to notice John's dick at all.
A spurt of pee comes out of John's dick, then stops before another spurt. Of course, John is starring at Williams's strong piss stream, which is making it difficult for John's own piss stream to get moving.
William glances at John and sees John staring at his piss. Shrugging, William puts a finger in his piss steam, then reaches up and puts that finger on John's lips. John's hypnotized or feeling as if he's hypnotized, opens his mouth and sucks the piss off William's finger. Pulling his finger out, William says, "Finish your piss, then get your pants down."
In a trance, John nods, "Okay," and now his pee stream comes out steadily now.
William gets a condom out of his back pocket and strokes his dick, watching until John's finished pissing before saying, "Go ahead. Quickly get your pants down," and then he rolls the condom on his firmed-up seven-inch cock.
John's pants are down just below his buttocks. "Nice underpants, and shaved pubes, wow!" mumbles William, then, "Turn around, um, what's your real name?"
"John Darling, I already told you."
"Sure, never mind," and he pushes his cock inside John's anus, then thrusts hard, getting five of the last six remaining inches inside him. John is up on his toes, his hands on the mutual wall of the next stall.
William says, "Bend down a little. Come on!"
John does that, and Willian fucks him fast and hard for fifty seconds, then humps against his buttocks and unloads a sharp stream of cum into the condom, grunting, 'Umm, umm, ooh my god," then a long sigh, and he pulls out, unrolling toilet paper.
John goes, "Hey, how about me?"
"Tell me your real name."
"I did! It's John Darling."
"Okay, I thought you made that up. Here ya go," and he slides his long boner back up there and thrusts for only thirty more seconds until John makes a gasping squeal. William quickly covers John's mouth with his hand, the one smelling of urine. John's hard cum stream splatters off the wall, joining numerous other cum loads. He gasps, humping his hips to get the last spurt of cum out.
"There you go, John Darling," and William pulls his cock out for the second time in less than a minute. He wipes John's ass with the toilet paper he rolled off a minute ago, mumbling, "What a cool name you have."
The condom goes in the toilet, and Williams's dick goes back into his pants as he's saying, "Walking out of here, don't look as if you just got fucked. Look like this isn't your first rodeo, which, in your case, I'm pretty sure it was. Be cool, John Darling, and buy me a drink."
John's shaking his head, wanting to feel guilty about this, but it felt too fucking good, so he couldn't get a guilty feeling worked up. He nods at William and mutters, "Okay, William. It was pretty quick, but that fuck deserves a drink."
They walk out through the urinal section, John trying to look as if it's nothing unusual happened, but he gets looked at by almost every guy in line anyway because he's so good-looking. Outside the lavatory, William takes John's arm, saying, "Down here, John," and after a minute of dodging through the crowd they stop at a liquor bar, William bumping fists with two guys his age, neither of his friends having William's cute looks.
He mumbled to John, "Get me a gin and tonic." John buys him the drink but gets nothing for himself. He hands it to William, and one of his friends asks, "Did William just fuck you in a bathroom stall?"
John frowned, looking at William, who said, "Go ahead, tell them, John."
John shrugged and said, "I can't believe that happened, but yeah, William fucked me up good. It was great, and I won't forget you any time soon, William."
John and William bump fists as William's friends make faces, shaking their heads, and then each guy hands William a twenty-dollar bill, one of them muttering, "How the fuck do you do that, Billy? And with Mr. Beautiful Face, too."
William says a bit dismissively, "That was cool, John. I'll look for you again sometime."
Knowing when he's not wanted, John nods, "Yeah, you do that," and still trying to feel guilty, but couldn't, he makes his way to the guys' tables, trying to figure out how long he's been gone. It was the lavatory lines, not the one-minute fuck, that held him up.
At the last second, he remembers to buy the pitcher of beer Gary told him to get. Carrying the full pitcher to the table, he sees Andy, Dickie, and Gary all smoking and laughing at something. Andy sees him coming, "Oh, look at this. And we had nothing but suds left in these pitchers. You're a lifesaver, Darling!"
When John puts the pitcher on the table, Gary says, "Good on you, pretty boy."
John grins and asks, 'What was so funny?"
The talker in the group, Dickie, goes into a story of what Andy did when a guy goosed his ass while Andy was carrying a pitcher of beer... hahaha, blah, blah, blah.
They're getting drunk, and John thinks, 'There was nothing wrong with what I did. A quick good fuck from a cute eighteen-year-old boy without a cowboy hat. That was an extemporaneous, really good two minutes. I'll do it again if I feel like it. I like being with Gary, but we're not married...' and you're only young once, and I almost died, and... live life while you can.'
To be continued... donnymumford@outlook.com
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