Second Chance

Second Chance Chapter 4 - Adventures with Tom

I took off early from work on Thursday afternoon to go meet Tom at the airport. There were many things that I loved about Chicago, but the remoteness of the main airport, O'Hare, was not one of them. I took an Uber from the office, and it was over an hour to get there along what was erroneously called the Kennedy "Expressway." In my experience, there was never anything express about it.

As I rode in the car, I answered a few emails on my phone and read over a report that Stephanie had prepared, but my mind kept drifting back to the night before. I kept thinking about what a lovely time I'd enjoyed at dinner with Julio, but I also kept reprimanding myself for reading too much into his attention. As "a man of a certain age," as the French delicately called elders like me, I was flattered that someone so young and attractive would pay any attention to me at all. Gay culture is obsessed with youth, and I had accepted long ago that I was completely irrelevant to most young gay men. I recognized that I had mistakenly taken Julio's interest in friendship as something more, and I encouraged myself to just be pleased to make a new connection with someone so charming. But then I kept coming back to that kiss at the end of the night and couldn't figure out what to make of it.

As I was thinking all of this, my phone lit up with a message. It was from Julio.

• Thanks for dinner last night

• It was so nice talking with you

• Thank YOU for dinner, I replied.

• I appreciated the company.

Well, I thought, that sounded very formal, but he sent back a smile emoji.

• Me too

• Hope I can see you again soon

• That would be great

• Good luck starting the new job on Monday.

• Thanks

I felt a flutter in my gut and had to tamp down my excitement once again. Young folk text each other a lot. It doesn't mean anything, I told myself. It was pathetic how excited I was just to be noticed by a handsome young man.

By the time I arrived at the airport, Tom was already walking off his plane. I came inside and met him coming out of the security gate at Terminal 1. I hadn't seen him since our trip to Australia and New Zealand in May, so it was great to have him visit. I had planned to go to New York for a weekend in July, but Tom had to cancel because of a big case at work that had come up and that was going to take over his weekend. Tom and I tried to see each other at least a few times each year.

Tom gave me a hearty hug and a kiss on the cheek. He looked good as always. Tom had been a highly-paid corporate attorney for decades, and he used some of his money to maintain a youthful appearance -- hair implants, a little botox, a personal trainer. Luckily, he didn't go so far out as to make his appearance seem plastic and unnatural, as people sometimes did, but if you looked closely, you could tell he'd had some work done.

"You didn't have to come meet me," he said.

"I know," I said. "But I always do."

I took his roller bag from him, and we walked over to Terminal 2 to catch an Uber to my apartment.

"So who all is coming to your party?" he asked.

"Oh, everyone, I think," I replied. "Though you're the only one from out of town."

"Anyone young and single?" he asked.

"Single, yes," I responded. "But I don't know any young people. I'm old. It's a 65th birthday party."

"Oh sweetheart, you're only as old as you think you are. I tell you that all the time."

"Well," I joked, "I'm thinking that I'm 65, and that is pretty old."

Our car pulled up, and I tossed his bag into the trunk and then we climbed in the back seat.

"So tell me about your latest adventures," I told him. "You know that I live vicariously through you."

"Oh!" Tom cried. "There was this boy last weekend! My GOD was he HOT!! He messaged me on Grindr and was just a couple of blocks away, so I had him come over. He looked tough and had this amazing muscular body with tattoos all over his arms, but he wanted daddy to fuck him hard, so of course I did. And that tight muscle ass! I bred him three times and he was still begging for more, but I sent him home, because I needed my beauty rest."

I glanced up at our Uber driver. He was South Asian, probably from Pakistan, like a lot of the drivers in Chicago. He was studiously trying to ignore our conversation, avoiding looking in the rearview mirror, but I was sure that he was wincing a little at Tom's crudeness. I felt vaguely bad about it, but on the other hand, I guess it's a normal part of driving an Uber. You probably had to listen to all sorts of inappropriate things -- gossip, sex talk, fights. At least we weren't getting it on in the back seat as I knew people sometimes did.

"Let's see. That was Saturday. Friday I had a little fun in the sauna at the gym and then dropped by one of my regulars on the way home to finish off."

"Aren't you afraid you'll get caught at the gym?" I asked.

"Oh honey, It's Tribeca. I don't think there's a straight man at my gym. And if there is, he knows better than to use to the sauna unless he's looking to get his cock sucked." He paused for effect. "And I have definitely sucked some straight men's cocks in that sauna!"

We laughed and chatted as the car made its way along the Kennedy and then up Irving Park toward my apartment in Uptown. Tom always had me in stitches with the stories of his adventures. While I had become the old settled-down married guy, Tom had remained spontaneous and wild (and oversexed). He had been almost too much for Pablo sometimes, with his stories of hook ups and cruising, but I was always entertained. Tom spent half of the trip from O'Hare telling me in detail about the night he'd gone cruising in the Ramble, a wooded area in Central Park that was a notorious hook up site for gay men. He had been to a concert at the Museum of Natural History and came out onto Central Park West at around 10 p.m..

"And even though I wasn't really that horny, I figured, here I am right by the Ramble, and it's a Friday night, and I haven't been there for ages, so I went for a hike."

"But you were dressed for a concert," I pointed out.

"Yes, but it's dark enough there no one would notice anyway. And as soon as I got onto one of the paths, there was a hot young Latin guy with his pants around his ankles taking it up the ass. The guy who was fucking him offered me a turn, and who was I to say no to such a fine young ass? Then I passed him off to someone else and wandered on, and not ten feet further, there was another ass that needed fucking. I mean, it was a veritable cornucopia of hot young asses just waiting to feel my cock in them."

I was laughing hard at his story. He'd actually already told it to me a few weeks ago over the phone, but it was even more entertaining to hear it in person, with all of Tom's facial expressions and gestures.

By the time we got to my condo, I'm pretty sure that the driver was very happy to be rid of us. After I grabbed Tom's bag out of the trunk, I went on the app and gave him 5 stars and a substantial tip so that he wouldn't be too bitter about having to take such crude old queens for a long ride.

I carried Tom's bag up into our condo and set it down by the couch. Tom followed me in and set the smaller bag he'd brought on the coffee table. He walked over to the mantlepiece and picked up a photo of Pablo and me from the hill overlooking Machu Picchu from a trip we'd taken to Peru some years before.

"You know, Judah, there are times that I really envy the life you've led." He turned around with the framed photograph in his hand to look me in the eye. "To find a love like the one you had with Pablo, well..."

He looked a bit melancholy for a moment. Then he brightened up with a wicked twinkle in his eye.

"Of course, I don't at all envy the monastic lifestyle you've been leading for the past few years," he said. He set the picture back on the mantlepiece. "You really do need to get laid, my dear. It will do wonders for your spirit."

"My spirit is fine," I told him, in the parental tone that I often used when he was trying to goad me into hooking up. "I just haven't been interested."

Suddenly, an image of Julio crossed my mind. "Well," I said, "actually..."

Tom brightened up. "Oh, my! Do tell!"

I immediately regretted having said anything. "It's nothing, really."

"Judah," Tom said sternly and gave me a look like a schoolmarm reprimanding an errant student.

"Okay, so I met somebody this week who sparked something in me."

When I stopped there, Tom looked at me again.

"Yes?" he asked pointedly.

So, I recounted to him my experience of meeting Julio, how intriguing it was to spend time with a handsome young man who obviously appreciated my company. For some reason, I did not tell Tom about the kiss that ended our evening the night before.

"I know he's not interested in me in that way. But imagining for a moment that he was, sparked something in me. It made me feel ... I don't know ... like maybe, someday..."

"Hmmm," was all that Tom said and looked me up and down. "So you have a crush on a boy half your age?" he said skeptically, then he smiled broadly. "Welcome to my world, Judah!!" He laughed and pulled me in for a hug.

"I need a drink!" he declared.

"Martini?" I asked.

"Of course!"

I moved over to the cabinet in the dining room where I kept the liquor and pulled out a metal cocktail shaker and the gin and vermouth and took them to the kitchen. I pulled a martini glass out of one of the cabinets. It was a beautifully crafted glass, large, with a blue swirl running through the glass. I thought of it as my special glass for important visitors. I grabbed another plainer martini glass for myself. I filled both with ice and ice water.

"Tom," I called out, "While I make our drinks, why don't you think about dinner. I'm too lazy to cook, so I was going to order. There are menus on the dining room table."

I filled the cocktail shaker with ice, poured in gin almost to the top, and then poured just a tiny splash of vermouth into the bottle cap and added it to the shaker. I put the top on and shook the shaker vigorously. Then I let it sit while I grabbed a lime out of the fridge and cut it into small slices. I gave the shaker another shake, dumped the ice water from the glasses, then carefully poured in the drinks. The martinis reached almost to the top of the glasses, slightly clouded clear liquid with slight sheen on top.

"Chinese?" Tom called from the dining room. "Or sushi?"

I added a lime wedge to each glass then carried the full martini glasses carefully into the dining room.

"Chinese," I told him. "I'm always suspicious of delivery sushi."

I handed him his drink, and he handed me the menu from a Chinese place a few blocks away. I was going to order online but decided it was easier to just call, so I called on my cellphone and ordered Sichuan beef, chicken and eggplant, and Kung Pao pork.

"Thirty minutes," I told Tom, as I hung up.

We took our drinks to the living room and sat down on the couch. He sat on one end, and I sat next to him in the middle. I leaned into him, and he reached his arm around me.

"So ... a cute boy woke up something in you? You're not dead after all?" His tone was kindly this time, rather than his usual playful goading tone.

I just shrugged.

"So can we get you on the apps now?" he asked hopefully.

I rolled my eyes. "I'm not looking for hook ups, I'm just..."

He reached over and rubbed his hand across my short hair affectionately.

"I get it. We''ll go slow. But glad to know that you're finally willing to recognize that you might still have a libido."

The food arrived, much sooner than predicted. We spread the little white paper boxes and a black plastic container out on the kitchen counter and filled our plates, then we went to the dining room table to eat. A few bites in, Tom suggested that we watch a movie, so we took our plates and headed back to the couch. We pulled up a gay rom com that was honestly pretty mediocre, but the guys were hot, and it didn't require much brain power, so we enjoyed it. I didn't actually see how it ended, because I fell asleep, ending up with my head resting on Tom's lap.

At some point, Tom came and woke me. He had apparently slipped my head from off his lap and gotten up, taken his bags to his room, and changed into a pair of boxers to sleep in.

"Judah, buddy, off to bed for you," he said, as he pulled me gently off of the couch. I stumbled into my room and into the master bath to brush my teeth, then I stripped off my clothes and climbed into bed in just my boxer briefs, and in a moment, I was back asleep.

I had taken Friday off so that I could spend the day with Tom. We had a leisurely morning. I woke up around 8:30 and found that Tom had already made coffee and was reading the newspaper.

"Why are you up so early?" I asked.

"I'm on New York time," he said simply.

I made waffle batter from scratch and cooked a pan of bacon in the oven, and then we sat down to a hearty breakfast of waffles and bacon.

"I appreciate your coming, Tom," I told him.

"Like I would miss your birthday party!?"

Since Tom was in town, I skipped my usual Friday run.

After we showered and got dressed, we took a car downtown to see the Georgia O'Keefe exhibit that was about to close at the Art Institute. (While I was fine with public transportation, Tom regarded it as beneath him, so we always took a taxi or an Uber when we were together). The Art Institute was one of Chicago's greatest assets, and I had a museum membership that I used pretty often. I visited at least once a month. I would usually go to take in just one exhibit or one section of the permanent collection at a time, giving myself time to savor and reflect on the art.

After touring the Georgia O'Keefe exhibit, Tom and I stopped into one the museum cafes for a snack. We sat next to one another at a table so that we could gossip about the cute boys who walked by, and there were plenty of them. I'm sure that there are straight men who enjoy art too, but the number of young gay guys in a museum like the Art Institute is impressive (and by itself makes the price of a membership worthwhile). We watched cute guys pass by and assessed them, and checked out a few others who were sitting like us at the cafe. There were two young Black guys in particular who sat not far from us who really caught our attention. We couldn't tell if they were brothers or friends or lovers. But we definitely thought that they were both unreasonably hot.

"We are such dirty old men," I said, as we ogled the guys.

"We looked at guys the same way when we were young," Tom replied.

"True. So we used to be dirty YOUNG men and now we're dirty OLD men."

After the museum, Tom wanted to run by a pharmacy to pick up a couple of things, then we headed back to my apartment. Since we were going out that night, I lay down for a half an hour disco nap, while Tom jumped onto his laptop to take care of a couple of things for work.

I have long been a big believer in naps, and I take them whenever the opportunity presents itself -- which is mostly weekends and holidays, since I go to the office every day and can't take naps there. I woke from this nap feeling refreshed and found Tom stressed as he was pouring over some emails.

"Tom, I thought you'd taken a couple of days off."

"Meh," was all he responded.

I let him work for a while, while I dressed for the evening.

My phone buzzed with a message from Julio.

• Just saying hi

• Hi! I responded

• What are you doing?

• My friend Tom is visiting from New York. We're heading out to dinner soon.

• Nice! Wish I was joining

• Maybe next time

• I'd love to meet your friends. - but i bet theyre not as interesting as you

I felt a flutter in my stomach again. Calm yourself, Judah, I said. He's just a kid. But he sure is flirtatious.

Coming out of my bedroom, dressed to go, I told Tom, "We need to leave in half an hour. Our reservation is at 7:30."

We were going down to Old Town, to Boka, one of Chicago's tonier restaurants and one of my favorites. I'd helped a couple of their staff get green cards, so I could always get a table, and they treated me well. Tom had only been there with me once before, but he had told me that he was anxious to go back, so I had called earlier in the week and got us a table.

Tom jumped in the shower in the second bathroom and came back out to the living room wrapped in a towel. Even though I had no sexual attraction to him -- he was too much like a brother after so many years -- I could appreciate what a fine specimen he was. He was a gym rat, with a well developed chest and arms. He didn't have those overdeveloped bulging muscles covered in veins that some guys got that made them look like they were gorging on steroids. Instead, he'd worked with his trainer to maintain muscle tone but not develop too much mass. He didn't quite have a six pack, but his stomach was flat with at least some muscle definition -- maybe a four pack? He had a nice patch of hair on his pecs, but otherwise he was groomed smooth.

I gave him a wolf whistle as he went by. "Lookin' fine!"

"At least celibacy hasn't completely deadened your senses," he called out as he headed into the bedroom. He left the door open as he got dressed, so that we could talk.

"What are we doing after dinner? Should we go to a club?" he asked.

"I wouldn't mind going to Roscoe's," I said. "I haven't been there in ages."

"Isn't that where you and Pablo used to go a lot? Won't that make you maudlin?" he asked.

"We used to go to Berlin when we were younger," I answered, "but that's long gone. And we'd go to Christopher Street, but that's now Hydrate. It's still a gay dance club, but I have no idea how it is. And I guess Pablo and I went to Roscoe's as we got older. You know I'm not like that, though. I don't get maudlin. I'm not fixated on the past."

"And yet," he said as he walked out, "You're still not having sex."

I sighed. "Okay, Tom, give it a rest. It's not like I've become a hermit."

Tom had on a dark blue, form-fitting, light weight cashmere sweater and grey slacks that hugged his ass and gave him a great package, with black leather loafers. I'd put on a light blue, long-sleeve polo shirt and black jeans with the dressy black tennis shoes with white soles that were popular at the moment. We both looked good, I thought.

"Let's go paint the town," I said.

When we arrived at Boka, the maitre'd greeted me by name.

"Good evening, Mr. Ellis."

"How are you, André?" I asked.

"Very well thank you. Glad to have you back."

We were seated at a table along a side wall in the middle, a perfect spot for people watching. Karl, one of my favorite waiters, came over to take our drink orders.

"Good to see you again, Mr. Ellis," Karl said.

There weren't many places I frequented so often that they knew me by name, but Boka was one. Karl was a young blond German with striking grey eyes, and I could see Tom look him over with considerable appreciation. I ordered a negroni, while Tom ordered a Manhattan.

"Why are you ordering a Manhattan in Chicago?" I quipped.

Tom rolled his eyes. "Oh, now you've stooped to dad jokes, Judah? You don't have to ACT like you're 65!"

"I'm not 65 until Sunday, thank you. I have two more days of being young and wild."

We decided on the seven-course tasting menu, with wine pairings. It was pricey but we knew it would be worth it. A series of sous chefs or line cooks, each one young and handsome, helped Karl bring out the dishes.

As one particularly hot assistant walked away, with Tom's eyes fixed on his firm ass, I said, "You know, Tom, there IS more to life than just sex."

Tom expressed false indignation. "That's very unfair. I have lots of interests. I like art and music, I appreciate good food. I've traveled all over the world. I like my job, and I'm good at it. I have close friends like you."

He leaned back in his chair for effect, raising his wine glass in a toast. "I just like sex best."

The meal was exquisite. We started with caviar on poached eggs, followed by a seared scallop and escarole dish, a passion-fruit sorbet, osso buco on a bed of ancient grains, a fall vegetable salad, finishing with hazelnut profiteroles. Spread out over more than two hours, we had a lovely, long conversation. The serving sizes were just right, leaving us feeling full but not bloated.

We took an Uber up to Boystown. We had decided to go to Roscoe's to grab a drink, since it was still too early for any of the dance clubs. And since Roscoe's had a dance floor, we could just stay there if we wanted. Tom had a Scotch, while I actually switched to seltzer, feeling like I'd had enough alcohol for the moment. We leaned against a wall and looked over the crowd, which was already pretty large.

A couple of boys squeezed by, brushing unnecessarily against us as they looked us up and down. "Hey daddy," one said as they passed. They were probably in their early 20s, and it was flattering to gain their attention. They moved on to the bar to order drinks.

"These Midwestern boys seem so much more earnest and eager. I mean, it's easy to get laid in New York, but the boys are so jaded. They act like they're doing you a favor by dropping their pants for you."

I laughed as I imagined the disdainful look on the New York boys that Tom was fucking.

"And honey, let me assure you that with my well practiced skills, I am doing THEM a favor!"

From the bar, the boys who had passed us turned while they waited to order their drinks and gave us another look over.

"Thank God liking daddies is a thing among these young guys," Tom said.

"We're old enough to be their granddaddies, Tom," I laughed.

"And your point?"

I just shook my head.

"If you ever actually turn old," I started, "and your looks decline and you're no longer so physically fit, what will you do, Tom?"

"I'll pay for sex," he retorted without hesitation. "I'll pay pretty boys to come and pretend that I'm still sexy." He turned to me and smiled. "But for now, I don't have to worry about that."

Tom made his way across the room to where the boys were still waiting to order. I stayed against the wall, sipping my seltzer and admiring Tom's self-confidence. From my perch, I watched as Tom introduced himself and began to chat the boys up. They fawned over him, with all of his sexy charisma. At one point, they all turned and looked at me. I raised my glass in greeting, and they made their way over to me.

"So Judah," Tom said, "This is Antonio and this is Christian." He indicated them each in turn. "And this, boys, is Judah, a high-powered lawyer here in Chicago."

"Hardly," I said. "But nice to meet you."

Antonio extended his hand in a limp handshake. They were both very fey, in that way that young gay men first enjoying the freedom to express their sexuality sometimes were. But they were also very cute. Thin waisted and just slightly toned. They looked to be Latin, with dark hair and caramel-colored skin.

"So do you boys live here in Chicago?" I asked, trying to start a conversation.

"Mmhmm," Christian confirmed.

"We're students at Kennedy-King College," Antonio added.

"Oh," I said, as though I had an idea what that college was, when in fact, I'd never heard of it.

"Let's go to the dance floor," Tom suggested, trying to rescue us from an awkward moment of silence.

It was late enough now that people had begun dancing, though the floor was still not too crowded. We tossed back our drinks, set the empty glasses on a table, then danced with the boys, both of them moving against us suggestively, grinding their asses against our crotches. Since I didn't respond with sufficient interest, they both ended up grinding against Tom, who used his hands to squeeze their asses and pull them to him. I had to admire Tom's ability to lure men to him. He truly was charismatic.

I was never a particularly good dancer, but it was fun to be on a dance floor full of hot men, rubbing up against one another. I had only been dancing a few times since Pablo's passing, mostly on vacation with Tom and Karen, a couple of times with my group of gay friends. For a while that night, I lost myself in the music and just moved my body. Tom and his boys drifted away from me, which was fine. Some of the hot young guys had started removing their shirts, and I couldn't help but appreciate the virility of youth. I actually took a deep breath to appreciate the mix of sweat and pheromones that was filling the dance floor.

I took a break and ordered a gin and tonic then leaned against the wall and just enjoyed the sight of boys dancing. A little while later, Tom came up and leaned against the wall with me. He'd taken his T-shirt and sweater off, like the young guys, and I had to admit that he had every right to do so: He looked good.

"Where are your boys?" I asked.

"They don't have a place," he said. "They both live with their parents somewhere way west. And I didn't feel like bringing them back to your place."

"You could have brought them back," I told him. "I would have enjoyed listening in."

"Nah," he said. "I wasn't feeling it. Sometimes guys are too young even for me."

I laughed.

"They were hot but annoying as fuck," he said.

We watched the dancing for a while. He slipped his white T-shirt back on but left his sweater tucked into his waist.

"Let's go to Steamworks!" he suddenly declared. "I need to have some raunchy sex!"

Steamworks was Chicago's one and only gay bathhouse. If you're not familiar with them, the institutions that are euphemistically called "saunas" or "bathhouses" are gay sex clubs. They usually do have a sauna and sometimes a hot tub and lots of showers (but no baths), but they are mostly about anonymous sex. There are TVs playing gay porn all over, and they are full of dark hallways lined with tiny rooms with beds where guys can fuck. Guys put their clothes in a locker or in one of the little rooms and then walk around in just a small white towel, checking one another out. Sometimes guys sit in the sauna for a while or on a couch watching one of the porn videos, but mostly they walk up and down the hall until someone catches their eye, and then they go into one of the rooms or into some dark corner and suck each other off or fuck.

Pablo and I had been to bathhouses a few times on trips, and we had even been to Steamworks several times in our thirty years together-- a few times with Tom when he was visiting, since New York hasn't had any sex clubs since the AIDS crisis, and a couple of times just because we were feeling wild. But there was no way in hell that I was going to go to Steamworks tonight. Going from my effectively celibate status to a sex club would probably overwhelm my system, even if I was starting to feel ... well, I'm not sure what I was starting to feel, but I was feeling at least a little bit more interest in sex than I had for a long time.

"No thanks, Tom," I said.

"Come on, Judah. It would be good for you," he pleaded.

"It would NOT be good for me," I insisted. "But you are more than welcome to go."

Tom gave up on trying to convince me. He could see that I was not going to be convinced.

"Well, I think I WILL go," he told me. "If you don't mind."

"Tom, my friend, when have I ever minded your finding sex? You have abandoned me for a piece of ass dozens of times. And as always, I'm happy for you to go have some fun."

"Okay, if you're sure," he said, pretending to be reluctant.

"I'm sure," I said.

We left the bar. The night air felt cool after the heat of the dance floor. Steamworks was just a couple of blocks up North Halstead from Roscoe's, so I walked Tom there.

"You sure you don't want to come in?" he asked.

"I'm sure," I said. I gave him a kiss on the cheek, and he went inside.

I ordered a car and waited for a few minutes for it to arrive. A few men went into Steamworks while I waited outside. The men mostly slipped in, inconspicuously, hoping to be unnoticed, though one group of younger guys walked in talking and laughing raucously, not caring who saw them. I felt slightly embarrassed to have the car picking me up directly in front of Steamworks, and I wished for a moment that I'd walked a block down before pulling up the app, but then I reprimanded myself: What was there to be embarrassed about? Even if I hadn't been at Steamworks tonight, I'd certainly been before. I might not be as "sex positive" as Tom, but I wasn't hiding either. There was no shame in having sex.

After I got picked up, as I sat in the car riding home, my mind drifted back to one of the last times that Pablo and I had gone to Steamworks. It was probably a decade ago, and we had both just started on PrEP and wanted to celebrate the freedom that if offered to have sex without fear of HIV infection, after spending our whole adult lives worried about getting AIDS and always wearing condoms (at least on those occasions where we played with others. We'd stopped using condoms when just the two of us had sex after just a couple of years together. Fortunately, Tom's previous partner had not infected him).

We had rented one of the little rooms with a bed, stripped off our clothes and wrapped little white towels around our waists. Then we walked the halls of the bathhouse, together at first, but then each on our own. Some guys were sitting or standing around the halls, others were standing at the open doors of their rooms. The dry sauna had only a few people in it when I went in, but one guy was sucking off another, so I sat down for a moment to watch. They were both older men and rather out of shape, but it was hot to watch them go at it right out where everyone could see. After a few minutes, I left the hot room, hung my towel on a metal peg, and showered. The showers were open to the hallway, so people could walk by and check you out.

As I was drying off, Pablo walked by and looked me over, like he didn't know me but was impressed. This was a game that we played when we went to clubs like this, pretending that we were strangers and cruising one another. Pablo nodded for me to follow him, so I wrapped the towel back around my waist and followed him back to our room. I went inside and left the door cracked open just enough that others could look in and see what we were doing. Pablo pulled me into a passionate kiss and unfastened my towel, so that it fell down to my feet. His hands grabbed my ass and squeezed. His towel had already fallen to the floor as well. I got down on my knees and took his cock into my mouth. Pablo's cock was not very thick, but it was long. I went up and down on his cock and then pushed so that it popped down my throat. I was usually pretty bad at deep throating, because even after decades of sucking cock, I still had a strong gag reflex, but for some reason, I could always manage to take Pablo's cock. It seemed to slide right in past my gag reflex. Pablo pumped it in and out of my throat a few times, then I went back to sucking him up and down, while he reached down and felt my ass. His finger slipped into my hole, letting me know that he wanted to fuck me now.

I climbed up onto the bed, which had a thin fitted sheet stretched over a mattress covered in naugahyde or some other liquid-resistant fabric. I got on all fours, with my ass sticking out. Pablo took the lube that he'd brought and lubed up his finger, then inserted it into my ass to get me loosened up. He lubed his cock, then he stepped up and pressed the tip of his cock against my hole and pushed in. I moaned in pleasure, and he started to pump slowly in and out.

I heard a voice say, "hot!" and turned to see that the door was now wide open, and a group of about five guys was standing there watching us. A couple were stroking their cocks under their towels. Pablo turned and smiled at them, clearly pleased to be watched. He indicated with a head nod that they were welcome to come in. Two of the guys did, and Pablo pulled out and stepped back.

"Want a turn?" he asked.

One of the guys immediately dropped his towel, revealing a large cock sticking straight out. He took the lube, squirted some in his hand, then rubbed it on his cock, before stepping up and pushing against my hole. He was thicker than Pablo, but I relaxed, and he slipped inside without much difficulty. He started to pump into me, while Pablo stood to the side watching approvingly. I couldn't really see the guy, since I was on all fours, facing the wall, but I could tell that he was tall, as he had to squat down a little to get inside me. After maybe five minutes, I heard him grunt and felt his cock pulsing inside me as he planted a load. It was the first time I'd taken a raw load from a stranger for as long as I could remember, and it was extremely hot.

The guy pulled out of my ass and grabbed his towel to wipe off his dick.

"Next," Pablo said, and the other guy who'd come into the room stepped up. He was a youngish guy, who looked very excited and eager. He stepped up and pushed inside me, without even lubing up. My hole was open now and wet, so it was easy to take him. He fucked me hard and fast and lasted even less time than the first guy before he, too, shot inside me.

After the young guy pulled out, another guy came in hoping to have a go at my ass, but Pablo stepped up and said, "My turn."

The other guys stepped out of the room, but several still watched from the door.

Pablo had me flip over onto my back, with my legs lifted up in the air. He stuck his cock back in and started to move into me, then he leaned forward to kiss me, with his cock deep inside.

"Your hole is so sloppy," he whispered in my ear. "It feels amazing!" He pulled back, held my legs wide, and started to jack hammer into me. Before long, he came deep inside me with an animalistic howl. When he pulled out, someone else stepped in, but I waved him off.

"I need a break," I said. "Maybe later."

Pablo and I went off to the showers to clean up. He gave me a huge smile.

"That. Was. Hot!" he said.

"It was," I replied.

We walked around for a while longer, sometimes together, sometimes on our own. I sucked a guy off in a dark room, and Pablo told me that he got fucked in somebody's room. We left, feeling so excited by the new freedom that PrEP had given us, even though we knew we wouldn't use it very often, since we only played with others a few times a year.

Back in the present, by the time the car dropped me at my condo, I was painfully hard from thinking about that night. I thanked the driver and got out. I went up to the apartment and, rather than getting ready for bed, I went to the bedroom, stripped down, lay naked on top of the comforter, and started playing with myself, thinking back again over some of the fun times that Pablo and I had enjoyed together. We had found being on PrEP liberating, but it did not really lead to more hook ups, just raunchier ones. After that night at Steamworks, we started playing raw with other guys whenever we played around. As I stroked myself, I thought about a hot night we'd had in Key West a couple of years later, and about a hot boy we'd had come to our room in New York who came five times in one night, four times in me, once in Pablo, even as he took multiple loads from us. My mind wandered back to our night at Steamworks, as I again relived that moment when Pablo came in my sloppy cum-filled hole for the first time, and suddenly, my cock exploded, shooting cum across my chest and onto my stomach.

I lay back amazed at myself. This was the first time that I'd jerked off to completion literally since Pablo died. It wasn't that I had erectile dysfunction, as Tom suspected, because I still got hard from time to time, if not as often as when I was younger. But whenever I had tried to jerk off in the past, I had just lost interest. I wasn't sure what had changed now, but it felt good. I lay there for a moment, covered in cum, then got up and grabbed a towel out of the bathroom to wipe myself down.

I went to bed naked that night, feeling good about myself, and slept soundly, not even waking up when Tom got in some hours later.

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