LIFE RAFT OR SHARK
DISCLAIMERS, CONTEXT, AND GOAL:
This story involves sex between two consenting male adults. If you are not at least 18 years of age or if this material is illegal where you live; do not proceed. This is a work of fiction and any resemblance to real people is coincidental and unintentional. The author reserves all rights to this content. This story involves unprotected sex between HIV positive men who are mutually aware of their status. The author in no way advocates any practice that might endanger your health. The story is meant to get you off, but it is also meant to explore the dynamic between identity and desire and how both are complicated when HIV is thrown in the mix. The story neither glamorizes nor condemns HIV infection, but rather treats it as a fact of life. Society often sweeps HIV under the rug, and to a certain degree erotica has as well. This is demonstrated by how few stories weave it into the plot in any sort of meaningful way. One of the goals of this story is to demonstrate that people with HIV are not outside the realm of erotica. Enjoy, and feel free to send your comments.
PART 1: ONE THING IN COMMON
A week ago, I went out to dinner with my neighbor Kirk. Against all odds we were seated at a table right next to Kirk's brother James and their parents. James was no stranger to me. I had met him several times before at parties over at Kirk's house. But I hadn't seen him in a while, and I did a double take when I saw him that night. He had packed on some major muscle, but the biggest change was his new, full, neatly trimmed blonde beard. He had started buzzing his hair so it was actually shorter than the beard. Somehow the combination with his tan skin and blue eyes just turned my crank. He looked good and the picture of health. We pushed our tables together. James was at the other end, so we didn't get to talk too much. When he and the parents got up to leave, he bypassed my outstretched hand and reached around to give me a hug. He whispered, "Hey, let's get together for lunch sometime." I immediately agreed.
Last year I found out I was positive. Shortly after absorbing the news, I told Kirk one night when we were out having a drink. Kirk shared with me that his little brother James was poz as well. I was a bit shocked because I had always assumed James was straight. Had I known otherwise, I would have pressed for a setup. Kirk saw the wheels turning in my head and added, "And he's straight. So it makes dating very difficult." I didn't say anything, but I was like, "No shit!" Being poz is no walk in the park, but at least in the gay world there is a lot of company. Kirk saw the doubt on my face about the poz "straight" brother and gave me the whole story. I was sharing my situation, so he opened up about how HIV had affected his family. As the story goes, James caught it while he was in the Marine Corps from some hooker while he was overseas. I guess that's believable. Foreign hookers are not the most regulated industry in the world. I didn't even know James had been in the military. Kirk told me he was busted for pot and was dishonorably discharged. When he got out, he didn't know he had it. Sometime later, he ended up in the hospital, and by the time they thought to run an HIV test on a white, straight, former Marine, his T cells were down to single digits, and he was on the verge of death. He was brought back from the brink, and the last I knew he had a girlfriend, she knew his status, and it was working out fine.
On the way home from dinner, I asked Kirk how James was doing health-wise. He said it was up and down. You don't get that far gone and just bounce back without complications. I asked how the girlfriend was dealing with it and was told she had left the scene a while back. So James was single, looking hot, momentarily healthy, and wanting to go to lunch...with me.
A few days later, my phone rang, and it was James. I guess he got my number from his brother. As he suggested, we set up lunch for Wednesday. I was 42. He was 30. I was gay. He was straight. I had two degrees and a prestigious job. He was an unemployed Marine Corps dropout. Besides knowing his brother, the one thing we had in common was HIV. Even our HIV experiences couldn't have been any more different. My mind ran wild, and I had to keep my thoughts in check.
When I arrived at the restaurant, he was already seated and drinking a beer. I was in a suit and had just come from work. Booze was off the menu for me. I could tell he was nervous. As the conversation progressed, it became apparent that behind the carefree smile and fun-loving demeanor, James was profoundly unhappy. We shared our stories about our commonality. As I suspected, the real story never involved a hooker. The truth involved hunky Marines that had a taste for blonde furry ass; James' in particular. The part about being discharged for pot was true. When he was sick in the hospital, he never really thought about the possibility of his military flings having any connection to his illness. After his discharge, he had gone back to sex with women and just wrote off the sex with guys as boys being boys when pussy was not around. He said he enjoyed the sex with Marines and that it was actually a bonding sort of thing. But he never thought of it as something that defined him. He just saw it as convenient to the circumstances at hand.
He still saw himself as straight, but said he had not had unprotected sex or a decent blow job since his diagnosis. He said chicks were totally freaked out by this. He had had just one relationship, and she eventually grew weary of the stress of catching it and dumped him. Mostly, I just listened. My heart broke for him, but my dick was having a totally different reaction.
PART 2: MORE THAN JUST NAKED
We agreed to meet at his place after I finished work. I went to the copier to pick up the MapQuest directions, said goodbye to my staff, and slipped out of the office as close to 5:00 as I could get away with. His place wasn't hard to find, and it was all I could do to not run up the stairs to knock on the door. He opened the door in long white nylon basketball shorts and from what I could tell nothing else. The blonde coat of chest hair nearly sent me over the edge before I even crossed the threshold. He offered me a beer, but I declined assuring him I would take him up on the offer later. He seemed relieved to have avoided a potential delay and was clearly in no mood for small talk. "So what should we do first?" I replied that I needed a shower and suggested we start there. He turned towards what I assumed was the way to the bathroom, and I followed like a lemming in heat. He reached into the shower and cranked the water. He locked eyes with me and with the flip of two thumbs dropped his shorts to the floor in one swift move. Needing no further provocation, I removed my tie and unbuttoned my shirt in record time. He stood still and silent; never taking his eyes off me. It was obvious he was on display, and he didn't seem the least bit disturbed by his exposed condition. My efforts to equalize the situation must have pleased him because his dick was swelling at a rapid rate. By the time my socks were off, we were both rock hard.
We were more than just naked. Our clothes were gone. Secrets were gone. Guilt about the disease we shared was gone. Obligations for love, commitment, or really anything else were totally stripped away. It was a sensation of freedom one rarely experiences. All we had was this moment, our bodies, our pleasure, our mutual ability to just suck and fuck. No fear, no condom, no requirement for explanation or justification.
He was a sight to behold. I had seen glimpses of his body hair before. Arm hair, facial hair, chest hair coming out of his shirt, his exposed chest at the door, but seeing the whole package all at once was beautiful. It was that dark blonde that is brown enough to stand out, but just light enough that it glistens in the light. I reached out fingers spread wide and ran them up through the thick coat. By the time I reached his beard, he had lost his serious composure and melted into an "aw shucks" smile. He opened the glass shower door and motioned me in very gentlemanly.
He opened a bottle of shower gel and squeezed a big glop onto a scrub. He started rubbing my chest in large circular motions. It wasn't a huge shower, and our faces were only inches apart. He just stared at me without flinching. With any gay man, we would have locked lips a long time ago. But that clearly wasn't on the agenda. However, it didn't mean the sexual tension wasn't going through the fuckin' roof. My reflex was to drop to my knees and start sucking him right then and there. But I was kinda enjoying the buildup, and it was clear neither one of us was going to chicken out or lose interest. So why not stretch the experience? I turned around, and he scrubbed my back and eventually got bold enough to run a finger along my ass crack. I pushed back and moaned to lend encouragement without directly giving orders. After soaping every inch of my body, we traded places so I could rinse off.
After drying off, he led me to the bedroom, dropped his towel on the floor, and laid face up in the middle of the bed. I crawled on top of him; straddling him. His blue eyes were locked in silent dialogue with me, and the closed caption of his mind seemed to read, "Go for it. Blow my fucking mind!" Bypassing the kiss on the lips, I traveled down to his left nipple and started flicking it with the tip of my tongue. His dick had an immediate reflex, and I could feel the head thump against my stomach. His moan seemed to green-light further investigation into this erogenous zone. I advanced to a nibble, and he exhaled and let out an audible "Oh Gawd!" I worked his tits until I couldn't stand not having his dick in eyesight anymore. Moving downward, I bypassed the big prize and started licking his balls. It's rare that a straight guy shaves his sack, and James was no exception. They were like sucking on a Brillo pad, but I didn't care. I took one completely in my mouth rolling it around, gently at first and eventually with enough suction to elicit a slight "ooh" of pain. Having found the threshold of his pleasure, I moved to the twin orb and gave it the same tour of my mouth. I detoured to the ticklish zone in the crevice of his upper thigh, and he squirmed with delight.
I rolled him over and straddled him again licking and nuzzling the hairs on the nape of his neck. I tugged on his left earlobe with my teeth and he rolled his head just enough to signal a desire for more of that. I started moving down his spine and would lick all the way back up to his head in long continuous strokes, each time starting from a lower point as if daring myself to go deeper. My palms pressed against his ass cheeks and spread them apart exposing his asshole surrounded by hair that was still wet from the shower. I dove in and munched that blonde furry ass like there was no tomorrow. Up to this point, James had barely said a word, but a tongue in the hole got him cheering me on. I pressed deeper; grinding my beard into the area around his hole. The scratchy sensation left no doubt that this pleasure was being brought to him by a man. I spit on his hole and rubbed it around with my index finger. He opened up just enough for me to slip it in. His hips bucked with the shock of the sensation, but he didn't signal any reservations about what I was doing.
I flipped him over, spit on my finger, reinserted it, and turned it upward to massage his prostate. He let out a big "ooh," and I pressed harder. A clear drop of precum oozed out, and I could not resist any longer. I licked it up, and after a moment of savoring the salty taste, I engulfed his dick with my mouth. I scooted up to get a better angle and dove 8 inches down to the base of his cock in one fluid motion. Remembering to breath, I managed to avoid gagging and just hung out with my nose in his pubes allowing him to flip through the Rolodex of women who had tried this before and failed. As seconds went by, I gloated in my victory of swallowing the whole thing. Finally coming up for air, I flicked my tongue on the head and slowly rubbed it in a circular motion with my beard hoping he would remember to return the favor with his own.
I dove down again and started a piston-like motion that threatened to send him over the edge. I slowed down and gripped the base of his cock to stem the tide of his impending orgasm. With a finger pressed on his prostate, the other hand magnifying the sensation of my mouth, and the double whammy of my tongue passing over the sensitive underside of his dickhead quickly followed by the rough texture of my palm, I sucked, stroked, and finger fucked him into a convulsing state. He was screaming with the pain of sensory overload. I sped up, pressed harder, increased the suction, and added a twist of the palm as it passed his head. He stopped screaming, but started breathing in and out rapidly as if he needed more oxygen to survive the pleasure. Years of sucking cock came down to this moment, and I gave him everything I had. He obviously needed relief, and I wanted to throw him over the edge. I clamped down just enough to give him the slightest teeth scrape and sure enough his ass clenched down on my finger like he meant to bite it off with his sphincter. Thick shots hit the back of my throat. I pulled up just enough to not gag and swallowed every rope of cum he had to offer. He instinctively grabbed the back of my head to stop the motion and froze his own thrust as if to isolate the throbbing of his cock hidden deep in my mouth. I gulped the last bit, and he slowly slid out of my mouth.
He sighed and laid his head back with his arms outstretched to his sides. I placed my head in between his chest and armpit and just silently bobbed up and down with his exhalations. My own cock was still hard as a rock, but my own needs were temporarily displaced by my pride in giving him what seemed like the blow job of his life. Time froze and the heaving of his chest slowed. My hypnotic state was broken by his voice, "Will you fuck me?"
PART 3: PILE DRIVING
I quickly moved beyond the shock of the request and hid my crazy eagerness with a nonchalant, "Sure." He said, "There's lube on the table, and I'm going to need a lot of it. I haven't been fucked in a long time, and if this works, it will be the first time I've been fucked when I wasn't high. So go easy on me." I assured him, "I'll be gentle." To which he immediately interrupted, "Well that may be necessary at first, but if my memory serves me correctly, there's nothing like being mercilessly pile driven." He broke into a devious smirk and promptly rolled over on his stomach. I fumbled for the lube and wasted no time liberally applying it to his hole and digging in with a finger to make sure it was penetrating deep inside of him. I straddled him and just took in the site. His muscled back, his fury bubble butt, and the recent memory of how good that hole felt to my finger.
I pushed down on my cock to get it lined up and slowly pushed in. He wasn't fighting it, but he was really tight and even with all the lube, this was not going to be an effortless penetration. With slow, deliberate strokes I was finally all the way in. My 6 ½ inch cock was not an enormous challenge. The head is proportional, not a big mushroom top, and the shaft is an average thickness. But it does get hard as marble statuary, and it stays that way without any fluffing or blue pills. Fully entrenched, I laid down flat against his back and looped my arms under his pits. I licked the back of his neck, which was salty with sweat. Locked together with maximum skin-to-skin contact, the embrace alone was a sexual experience to behold. I started to rock back and forth in tiny oscillations. My dick had reached a level of homeostasis that relieved the threat of unintentional firing.
The tone of his moans signaled that I could shift into pile-driving mode. I slowly ramped up; confident I could fuck him longer than his out-of-practice ass could take. Being competitive, I wanted to take him to the same edge I did with my mouth and fuck him right up to the point where he was begging for relief. The oscillations got to the point that to go any further, I would need a longer dick. I rose up on my knees and used the bed to spring load the penetrations. The intensity was signaled by the smacking sound of the impact of my body on his ass cheeks. He augmented the soundtrack with guttural chants of "Fuck me. Fuck that ass." I slowed down and leaned close to his head and asked "Do you think you could cum again?" He responded, "Fuck yeah!" I pulled out and barked, "Roll over." He quickly complied as if he didn't want to skip a beat. I grabbed his ankles and pushed back. His hole had dilated, and my dick easily slipped back in. The angle gave me a perfect set up to deeply penetrate him, and the extra depth reignited the intensity of the fuck.
What surprised me was that he stared directly in my eyes and never let go of his gaze. I was fucking his ass with my dick, but he was fucking my mind with his eyes. Normally when "straight" men have "gay" sex, there is a shame factor that precludes this level of unabated acknowledgment of what's happening. He wanted to soak up every bit of what was going on. He wasn't playing straight porn on the inside of his eyelids. He was locked onto me unflinchingly acknowledging me and my maleness. This turned me on and made me want to fuck him even longer. I stared back closing the loop that had developed between us from my eyes to my mind to my dick to his ass to his mind to his eyes and traversing the space between them with a surety of connection that was as tangible as the velvet inside of his ass gripping the head of my dick.
He reached down and grabbed his cock and started jacking at the same pace I was fucking him. I smiled, knowing he was in range of orgasm number two. His breathing signaled his altitude above the runway and let me know he had put the wheels down for landing. I picked up the pace and slammed his hole as hard as I could. His breathing turned into screaming and he held his hand still and shot three ropes of cum almost in perfect sync with my dick slamming into his ass. It didn't look like cum but more like someone had stomped on a bottle of Elmer's Glue. It was the first time I had lost contact with his eyes, and my amazement at the volume and thickness of his gleaming white blasts of cum almost distracted me from the task at hand. My dick was on autopilot, but my mind had certainly shifted its focus to one of the most amazing ejaculations I had ever witnessed. I looked in his eyes and froze. My dick was throbbing inside of him, filling him with an orgasm that had been building since lunch. His eyes showed no regret or fear of being filled with my seed. As bad as HIV is, the ability to connect skin to skin, to ingest the essence of another without containment, and to fear nothing from the positive side of infection was an ironic bonus for which we had both just cashed in.
The desire to kiss him was overwhelming, but I knew that was off the table. To my surprise, he lifted off the bed and kissed me softly, gently, and without a trace of hesitation. As he laid back down, our lips parted and the thick ropes of cum were still floating on top of the mat of chest hair in the perfectly straight rows in which they were shot. The spell was broken by the proclamation, "It's time for a beer."
PART 4: HUNKY MARINES
We moved to the living room and before long two Shiner Bock bottles were being clinked together. He toasted, "To round two." We sat back on the couch both exhausted and satiated by the experience. I asked, "So when was the last time you got fucked up the ass?" He didn't even have to think about it and answered, "Oh, not since I was in the Marines." To which I responded, "Yeah, you talked about that at lunch, but it was the edited version. I want details. Spill it." He took a huge swig of beer and began a trip down a bitter and enticing trail. He said, "Well there were four of us that used to hang out a lot. Three of us were on base; me, Tom, and Kyle. And one guy, Jeff, lived in an apartment off base. Most of the time, we hung out at Jeff's place. The normal routine was to drink a bunch of beer and smoke a little pot. Hardly smart. I got busted on a random test and shown the door. Typically we watched a ball game or whatever was on TV. Jeff didn't have cable, so the choices were limited. I was the scrawny one in the bunch. The other three were all built like brick shithouses. When you think of a Marine, these are the guys you think of; tall, thick, ripped, "guns" for arms...the whole package. I was in pretty good shape; muscular and lean. But I was short and thin; 165 at my best. They were all easily over 200."
"One day we were at Jeff's getting drunk and high as always. Tom was messing around with the remote and somehow flipped it to the DVD mode and some kinky ass shit was suddenly filling the room. Jeff pretended to be embarrassed, but in reality, none of us saw any shame in watching porn. Tom made no attempt to change what was on the screen, and it didn't take much for our stoned, horny minds to be transfixed by what we saw. I guess it was straight porn. There were two women and a guy. But the guy was in the middle fuckin' one chick and getting plowed with a strap-on by the other. The three of us sat there transfixed, and Jeff just shrugged and said something about how hot the chicks were on the cover. We couldn't stop watching, and before long, we all had our dicks out and were jacking off. Jeff reached into a drawer and passed a bottle of lube around. Seeing each other naked wasn't weird, but seeing each other erect and jacking off was a first. On the dick front, I wasn't the scrawny one as you well know. Jeff's was about the same length as mine, maybe a little longer, but it was literally as thick as a beer can. I couldn't wrap my fingers around it. It was a monster. It was at least 8" long but looked disproportionately short due to its girth. Tom and Kyle had decent, average sized dicks that looked small just because of the enormity of their frames.
I was sitting on the couch with Jeff and I'm not sure what came over me, but I leaned over and started sucking his gigantic cock. He was surprised but hardly upset. He leaned back, spread his knees apart, and let me have full access to his dick. Eventually, I swung around and knelled on the ottoman in front of him to get a better angle. Tom and Kyle were giggling the way stoned people do. I guess I should have known I was asking for it. I was crouched down on the ottoman, bent over sucking Jeff's dick, and my ass was straight up in the air rocking back and forth waving for attention. Before long, I could feel lube being worked into my ass with a finger, shortly followed by Tom's dick head pressing against my asshole. I had never been fucked, and I certainly didn't wake up that day thinking I was going to get my ass cheery popped. But there was something about that day; the pot, the beer, seeing the porn, seeing Jeff's baby-arm dick. I just didn't fight back and actually pushed into it a bit to let him know he had permission. Tom fucked me and came up my ass. Kyle followed suit, and Jeff came down my throat."
"I've since learned that there is a term for that...cumwhore. To my surprise, it didn't really cause an awkward situation and in fact, we all enjoyed it so much that we did it repeatedly. None of the three of them ever bottomed, so I was the designated cum bucket. Eventually, I got to the point that I could take getting fucked by Jeff. There was even one time when I was riding Jeff and Kyle pushed me forward inserting his dick on top of Jeff's. I was getting fucked by two huge Marines at once, and I can't deny that I enjoyed it. I replay that day over and over when I jack off. I can only assume one of them gave it to me, and at least one of them wasn't as straight as we all thought. For all I know, we had so much sex, they could all be positive. It never occurred to me that a straight Marine could give me HIV and eventually land me in the hospital with full-blown AIDS. After getting kicked out, I came back home and a similar situation never materialized and being straight myself, I never sought it out. I had unprotected sex with women and never even thought that I might be infecting them. It was all just so not a part of my world back then."
I was both shell shocked and horned up by the story. I said, "So you're straight, and you've been double penetrated by two Marines; one of whom had an 8" beer-can dick?" "Yep." "I fucking hate you. That's just not fair. Well hate would be the wrong word. It's more like insanely jealous. So would you ever try that again?" "Well, I'm here having sex with you, and that's certainly new. I'm not sure what it means besides I'm horny. But unless you have an extra penis, the dueling dick thing is off the list at least for today. I'm not interested in "dating" men. I don't want to deal with the status issue, and you are quite literally the only poz guy I know here." After he said that, I realized this was no ordinary roll in the hay, but what would likely be some kind of turning point for him. I also realized he was hot as shit, but emotionally a wreck, literally adrift between distant islands of identity, desire, and disease. Maybe I was a life raft...or a shark.
His chest hair was glued to his skin and my dick smelled of ass. We hit the shower and prepared for round two.
PART 5: FUCK THERAPY
In the shower, James said, "I've never told that story to anyone. I think about it all the time, but I've never trusted anyone with it until tonight." As profound as the statement was, he seemed lighthearted in saying it. I felt special as a confidant that gave him release from a secret that nearly killed him. He got a big smile and said, "Ya know what else? I've never fucked anyone up the butt. I've had tons of anal sex, but I've never been the top. This is going to be a first for me, and I don't know how long I can wait." I responded, "Why wait?" He shook his head and said "If I fucked you here, this glass shower enclosure would be broken to bits and that would ruin the mood." We laughed, and after a half-hearted attempt to get clean, we stepped out to dry off not giving a damn if there were still traces of dried cum all over us.
We got to the bed and he wasted no time devouring my dick. He obviously knew what he was doing in the dick-sucking department, and it felt great. But I was nowhere near orgasm, and I could tell he wanted to get on with his first butt fucking. I rolled back a bit showing my ass as a hint of permission that he didn't have to suck me dry before he fucked me. The wordless signal didn't go unnoticed, and he spit a huge glob right on my hole and started rubbing it with his dickhead. I moaned in an effort to egg him on. With just spit and precum to ease the way, that huge dick was no easy task, but eventually he got it all the way in. My ass was in heaven. His thick cock filled me to the point that he could take my pulse with his dick. He looked me straight in the eye, and I said, "You're in it. So fuck it." It was like the gate opening at a rodeo, but instead of holding on for 8 seconds, this bull dick bucked my ass for what seemed like forever. I shouted "Fuck me like the big-dick Marine you are. Fuck me like those big Marines fucked your sweet ass. Fuck me like you are making up for every fuck you gave but never got in return."
His head tilted back and his eyes shut. The A/C was working fine, but he was sweating like a pig. Big drops of sweat were falling off his head and landing like raindrops on my chest. He didn't dare stop the rhythm to wipe them away. My dick was throbbing with every stroke, but the focus was on what was happening to my ass. I've had some good fucks in my life, but this one had a dimension of intensity that was in a class of its own. He didn't waste a single inch of that dick and plowed it in me until his groin was physically stopped by my flesh producing a loud, metronomic slapping sound.
I wondered if he fucked women like this. He might not have been gay, but he fucked like a man fucks another man. It wasn't sweet or gentle. It did not hold a trace of feminine deference. It was a pounding full of animalistic dominance. My ass was somewhere between sore and numb. It was still pleasurable, but more as an endurance challenge than anything else.
He was in another world. His body was fucking me in this reality, but his mind was pounding through something completely different. Maybe it was the shame of being the bottom, the shame of being infected, the shame of being found out and having to cover with the hooker story, the shame of having to tell his partners he was positive, the shame that everyone doubted he was straight, the shame that he was the one that got discharged, or the shame that he had yet to piece his life back together. It was like if he fucked hard enough, he could stroke the shame away and freedom and self-respect was at the end of this fuck. Maybe it was the joy that, male or female, nobody had ever given themselves over to him like this.
His eyes opened like he had come out of the tunnel of memories he was fucking through. He instantly reconnected with me emotionally and leaned in to kiss me while he continued fucking. His torso was pressed against mine, and his thick chest hair was like sandpaper against my tits. His kiss was sealed on my lips, and I breathed though my nose unable to gain oxygen through my mouth. The back and forth of his furry stomach on my dick and the hundreds of chest hairs electrifying my tits caused a volcanic orgasm to build inside of me. I erupted with a huge load between our bodies convulsing in an all-encompassing orgasm. His lips left mine and he rose up suddenly. A couple of strokes later he froze in a catatonic state and let out a series of deep "uggs" that were perfectly timed with the showers of hot cum I felt deep inside of me. Without removing his dick, he collapsed on top of me drenched in sweat and breathing like he had just run a marathon. I wrapped my arms around him and pulled him in as hard as I could. Silently, we laid there waiting for our bodies to recover. His dick was still hard and very much in my ass. It could have gone for another round, but the rest of him was done for the night.
We showered in silence. I didn't know where he went in his head during that fuck, but it was a long way away and there was a lot of pain there. The sex was aggressively physical, but at some level it was more like a kind of therapy. There was a lot of anguish that got transferred onto that fuck. It would have been nice to think it had been about me, but it wasn't.
After drying off, we both got dressed as if to signal the events of the evening were over. He offered me a beer, but I declined and made up some excuse about needing to get home. I felt he had gotten what he needed, and my company might distract him from working through what had just happened. I kissed him tenderly, and he kissed me back with all sincerity.
I drove away and had no idea if this would ever be repeated or even if it should be. If he needed a boyfriend, I was most likely not it. If he needed a girlfriend, my presence certainly wouldn't help that. If he needed a fuck buddy, he didn't signal that with what happened tonight. The only thing I knew for sure was that he was in a better place when I left than when I showed up. Plus, I had some awesome sex. Somehow that was enough, and I went home satisfied to have been a friend.