That Was Unexpected"
Copyright 2021 Azstoryguy@gmail.com
Welcome to my latest story. It's been a while.
Note: this prologue may contain spoilers!
This is a period piece love story featuring two main characters in their early twenties. Unlike my other stories, this writing is much shorter and features limited "sex scenes." It remains true to the basic signature promise found in all of my writings. Where contextual clarification may be needed, a set of [ ] provides relevant information. The characters are all based on real people but "the names have been changed to protect the innocent." There are real places intermingled with fictitious constructs necessary for the story. Grammarians may notice that I frequently shift the tense. It reads better that way; and this isn't an English Lit assignment. Although that would be an interesting idea... I do claim responsibility for all typos!
Thank you for reading....
Oklahoma is sure as hell no place to live if you're young and gay. Okay... Maybe today it's bearable. Possibly. In the state's two largest cities: Tulsa and Oklahoma City.
Now. Let's step back a few years. Okay. A LOT of years. To the 1970s. It sure wasn't bearable then. Being a gay boy in Oklahoma was something you kept to yourself. Unless you wanted to get beaten up all the time or face massive societal derision.
"A long time ago...."
Ah yes.... Oklahoma....!!! I think the state was created out of land that Texass (sic) didn't want. Being no fan of the Lone Star State, that's another story for a different day.
If Texass is the "Big Empty," then Oklahoma is, and always will be, "the land that time forgot." Fishing, football and hunting. That pretty much sums up the recreational opportunities.
I guess the obligatory background information is required.
My name is Randy Martin. Nothing very impressive about me; at least from my perspective. At age twenty I stood an unimpressive 5'9" tall and weighed a whopping 130 pounds soaking wet. Which, with the oppressively high humidity in Oklahoma, is quite often. My hair is dirty brown, cut in a bowl shape with bangs that sweep down to my eyebrows, and my eyes are emerald green.
Just an average baby boomer, the product of the stereotypical nuclear family of the era. Dad was the "lord and master" of our little group of three. We (Mom and I) were just serfs in his "kingdom."
Dad had a singular talent. Despite serving as a pilot in the Air Force during World War II and Korea, he managed to squander that government-supplied training and ended up working in retailing all of his life. He apparently earned a decent salary. We had a comfortable life. I never wanted for anything, really, except for someone to care about me. Despite the many assurances from Mom that I was a "planned" child, I grew up in a very solitary existence. Dad was always working, while Mom just seemed to be a fixture in the background.
Oh...My Father's talent? .....It was losing jobs. One after the other. That resulted in moving. A lot. I was born in the North East, but at age two, Dad got fired again so we headed West. Which was pretty much 95% of the country... I never did know "the plan;" or if he even had one.
We stopped in the Mid West; Missouri, to be exact, to visit with his family. A decade later, after spending a long and futile effort of trying to sell army surplus junk and fishing lures out of an old converted gas station on a highway between NoWhere and NoPlace, we moved. And moved again. And again.
It was during this time that, as I approached age twelve, my nuts dropped and things started to grow. During that process, it dawned on me that girls didn't interest me at all. But boys sure did! The wet dreams I started having every night resulted in my sexual awakening. That moment didn't go unnoticed by others.... Little books about "Changes in Your Body" began showing up in my room every few months. That "betrayal" by my body (all those stained bed sheets and underwear!), ushered in my only "formal" sex education.
After all, it WAS the sixties. Sex didn't exist. Or at least it was kept hidden, always bubbling under the surface. Everyone was assumed to be "straight." No room for "queers!" Those little books didn't even mention that!
We moved again one more time in 1970, right before my Senior year in high school. Which sucked. I mean... I had spent three years in a small, jerkwater town in Missouri and I finally made some friends. This last move was different. Dad somehow managed to land a job in a place that didn't roll up the sidewalks and close down at sunset. Tulsa was my newest home.
It wasn't all a bed of roses. Starting a new school in your senior year was beyond cruel. Everyone there was already in their little cliques. They were all saying their goodbyes to each other in anticipation of going away to college or whatever....
I kind of remained in the shadows...
The big day came and I was free! Graduating 23rd in my class! All I wanted was out. I skipped my graduation ceremony - no cap and gown bullshit for me - picked up my diploma in the office and never looked back.
"You have to go to college!" That's what my parents kept telling me. Well, it was a good way to avoid the draft, so I enrolled in a private university at the "outrageous" cost of $500 per semester.
After two years I dropped out. I hated it. Just like high school. Same fucking subjects over again. Besides, I had no clue what I wanted to do with my life.
I was still pretty much of a loner. Gay, VERY lonely and EXTREMELY horny. Oh yeah...all of the time!! As far as I knew, I might be the only gay boy in Oklahoma.
It was kind of like a cruel joke. I mean... Tulsa was HUGE compared to the other places we had lived. I figured my chances of finding someone like me would be much easier. Still very naive, I had no idea how to make that happen.
Dad was still selling fishing tackle and other sporting goods. I ended up working for him in a big retail store. Kind of like Kmart or Target...
That was almost like eating at a smorgasbord buffet every day! Remember what I said about Oklahoma? Fishing and hunting? Yeah! Lots of Fathers brought their sons with them into the store for an indoctrination into that Oklahoma "Way of Life," and there I was. My eager eyes saw a lot!
I didn't care about the Dads; It was the boys. Levis, Wranglers, The Gap jeans or some other similar knock offs were standard fare. Guys weren't body shamed at all. Most wore jeans that conformed to the shapes of their growing bodies. Yes. THOSE shapes included! And then there were the cutoffs.... Short and frayed. Amazing how everything didn't come tumbling out... I kept my eyes glued just in case!
Working behind the main sales counter, I had a ringside view. I also became a master in the art of bullshittery.... by selling GUNS. Now...guns don't interest me. I didn't own one then. I never hunted. I'm not a "gun nut," like there are today. Like I said, this is Oklahoma. Hunting country. I became a "pro" at selling every firearm in our considerable inventory. You might wonder where I gained my firearms knowledge. Easy. I read the sales brochures and perused any of the number of hunting magazines we sold to the public.
I could discuss the pros and cons of each type of firearm, different calibers, weights of bullets and types of shot. Endlessly. Making sale after sale. All the while keeping my eyes tuned to the quite frequent appearance of a cute boy or boys in attendance with their Dad. Nothing happened. Except we exceed sales goals for every month in that department. Largely because of me.
Away from work, there was no change. I was very lonely. Ever since I finally figured out that I was "different," my mind rationalized things very neatly.
"I'll just find a boyfriend and live happily ever after," I thought.
Sure.....
Right before the roof fell in, I bought a 1972 Chevrolet Camaro. It was my first new car and I loved it. A 350 cubic inch V8 with an automatic transmission. AIR CONDITIONING so those hideous Oklahoma summer days were a thing of the past. It was my salvation. I could escape and take road trips. Lots of them. All over Northeastern Oklahoma.
I quickly discovered there wasn't much worth seeing.
I mentioned the roof falling in.
Yes. It did.
Dad lost his job. Again. At the time, I had no clue why. Later as I grew older and figured things out, it came to my realization that our little family was very dysfunctional. Instead of being the all-American Dad, he was really cold and aloof. Despite claiming to want a son, he quickly gave up on me after trying - and failing - to get me interested in things like football, basketball, baseball and fishing. You know, Oklahoma things. They didn't interest me at all. He even tried GOLF. When I was ten years old. Really?
He must have wondered what kind of a son he had...
So you might be asking, why did I end up working for him? That was largely at Mom's insistence after I quit school. I think I kind of "redeemed" myself in his eyes when he saw how I could easily sell a top of the line Browning shotgun to a reluctant customer.
Anyway, this time when the roof fell in, it was a total collapse. Starting with Dad losing his job. Not because he fucked up. No, his department exceeded all sales goals. It was something much more basic. The management hated him. Because he ignored their directives. Even though he was successful, that didn't matter. Welcome to corporate America!
When he was fired, I quit. Why? Because I knew my days there were very limited.
That wasn't the biggest problem, though. Oh no! Remember I mentioned that "dysfunction" thing? It finally caused our little nuclear family to completely melt down.
Mom and Dad argued a lot. All the time for as long as I can remember. Now the volcano was finally exploding. It turns out Dad had been cheating on Mom. More than once. Apparently his continued absence from home wasn't all work related. He was engaging in some "extracurricular activities." Rather than being apologetic about it, Dad was almost arrogant. She kicked him out of the house.
I started looking for new work. The first logical possibility was going to work for one of our competitors. I probably could have landed a job at any one of them. Very easily.
Nope. I didn't want to work in retailing anymore.
It turns out I was born at just the right time. Dad always crowed about Tulsa being known as "The Oil Capital of the World." Don't ask me the fuck why! There weren't any (producing) oil wells for a hundred miles in any direction.
To make up for that glaring omission, Tulsa had something else. A favorite among the locals. Situated on the 21st Street entrance to the Tulsa State Fairgrounds.
Right off, my mind started playing games. Just when did Tulsa become a state? Or was it planning on seceding from the rest of the state? That might not have been a bad idea. Any time I asked the local "natives" about this, all I got was stern looks...
But wait! I can't stop there! Guarding the entrance to the Fairgrounds was a hideous statue that must have been... I don't know.... seventy feet tall. The "natives" called it "The Golden Driller." It was a steel, concrete and plaster reproduction of an oil field worker. With one arm resting on an oil derrick. At last! I found ONE oil well in the "Oil Capital of the World." Except, like the "Driller," it was fake too.
Every time I passed "The Golden Driller," it brought back scary memories from one of my favorite science fiction movies, "The Day The Earth Stood Still." The Driller reminded me of Gort. Waiting to unleash his death ray on passing cars and people.
I wasn't scared. If Michael Rennie didn't show up, I knew the magic words, "Klaatu barada nikto." Tulsa was safe in my hands!
A more perverted side of me always got a cheap thrill standing under Gort...er.... "The Golden Driller." Looking straight up presented a perfect crotch shot. Either the Driller had a very small "package," or he was wearing the biggest jock strap ever! He did have nice abs, though...
Such is Tulsa. A place so barren, in a state so void of natural scenery, that they had to create something for people to see.
There may not have been any real oil wells, but lots of big companies had offices there. I scored a direct hit and went to work in the Blueprint Department for ATCO - The American Tank Company.
No. Not "tanks" like the ones you see in war movies. Pressure vessels. Huge storage tanks. In fact, they built complete oil refineries. After all, in 1973 the infamous "Arab Oil Embargo" had started. Hint: I eventually found out there was really no such thing. But that's another story.
Anyway, ATCO was HUGE. Three thousand employees in their Tulsa office, which was the headquarters. Plants in three or four other cities as well.
This was a time when a person could easily leave high school, get a good union job and make a shitload of money.
My job wasn't union; those were at the assembly plant on the edge of town. Instead I worked in a high rise office. Air conditioned and very nice. Windows that looked out over the dreary, flat landscape that is Tulsa.
None of that mattered. The real scenery was inside. My life had just changed forever!
Charles Spinner, a man in his early 40s, conducted my final interview after I passed through the Personnel Department. His office, and the Blueprint Department, were part of Publications and located on the Twelfth floor of the building.
"We have two floors of draftsmen below us, and one above," he told me; "They are cranking out new plans on a daily basis. Our job is to fulfill shop orders calling for these plans. It's a very simple job but there's a lot of work.
He paused, eyeing me carefully, "Do you mind working overtime?"
"No!" I chirped.
That answer made Mr. Spinner smile. I was hired immediately!
"We start every morning at 7:30," Charles told me, "And stop at 5:30."
He smiled.
"Rarely do we actually STOP at that time....."
"I'm ready to go, sir!" I said.
He smiled again.
"Great! There are some guys about your age working in the Department. You'll get along just fine!"
I couldn't wait! As soon as I got home, I told Mom. She was overjoyed.
"Look at all the benefits I get! Two weeks vacation after a year; ten sick days a year; TWELVE holidays! Some kind of health care and stuff.... I probably won't need that!"
"You never know, dear! I'm glad you managed to get on with such a big company.... You might be able to work there for twenty years and get a nice pension when you retire....!" she laughed, "I know that seems like long ways off now but....!"
The next morning I was ready to go! Mom had packed me some sandwiches and an apple.
I jumped in my car and headed off to work.
Mr. Spinner greeted me and gave the grand tour, starting with the library. A HUGE room with stacks and stacks of horizontal files.
"This is where we keep our blueprint masters. You will be making copies from them!" he said.
I shivered as we walked through the room. Charles noticed and laughed.
"It's always between 65 and 68 degrees in here with a relative humidity no higher than 30%," he explained, "To preserve all the documents."
"Oh!" I replied, "Even in the winter?"
"Yes. 365 days a year," he said as we walked up to a desk where a matronly lady was shuffling through files.
"Eloise, This is Randy Martin, our new blueprint operator," he said.
She greeted me with a warm smile.
"And this is her assistant, Rhonda!"
Rhonda was about my age... who knows... I mean... I don't look my age at all. At twenty, I still looked like a teenager! By any standard, Rhonda was cute. If girls had turned me on, she would have done the trick.
Out into the production area, next was Bob, an older man who also ran blueprints.
"Bob will show you the ropes," Spinner said.
We greeted each other and shook hands.
Next was Gregory Hart. He looked to be about my age; a little shorter and a LOT tubbier!
Spinner never really explained Gregory's job. I didn't ask. I really didn't care...
The jaw dropping section came next as we rounded a corner. There was another large room filled with what I guessed to be duplicating equipment.
Spinner introduced me to Timothy Cole. My cock lurched in my jeans. Standing at about 5'6", 135 pounds, brown hair parted down the middle, brown eyes, a tight, well defined body with a cute nose and Levis that hugged him just right!
He casually eyed me and shook my hand.
"Tim's job is to produce shop order documentation," Spinner said.
I had no idea what that meant. My throat was dry from looking, but trying not to be obvious, at the cute boy I had just met.
Spinner moved on to the next work area.
"This is Mark Ellis!" he said.
I looked up.... Yes, UP.... at the young man standing in front of me. My heart was pounding. I wondered if anyone heard it...
Mark towered over me at 6' 4" ..... I felt like a midget standing in front of him! His body was perfectly proportioned; maybe 165 pounds.... Blondish/ginger hair also parted down the middle and bright green eyes.
He smiled; it was radiant. Then came the handshake. I noticed right away that he had HUGE hands and a very firm grip.
"Howdy!" he exclaimed.
The "Okie Twang" hit me like an aphrodisiac!
It's not like the inflection you hear in the South. It's more of a soft drawl that I heard many times while working for my Dad. I hated it then. All I could think of was "hillbilly!" Maybe it was because I heard it from so many old men.
When Mark spoke, all of a sudden it sounded like the voice of an angel. Not that I have any idea what an angel sounds like. Or if they are even real. Except they MUST be real because I was looking at one! The more he talked, the more it turned me on. That soft drawl and unique enunciation of certain words was....the biggest turn on I ever experienced in my life.
Fortunately I spent the morning with Bob. He was very nice, very instructive and very patient with me as I learned my new job. And he was certainly no threat to my overstimulated libido!
Lunch time came and I watched as Mark opened a huge grocery bag and pulled out multiple plastic containers. He headed off to places unknown while I pulled out my PB&Js and one apple.
He returned within a few minutes and the smell of heated food wafted into my nostrils.
"You're kidding!" he laughed while surveying my meager meal, "No wonder you're so skinny! HERE!"
Opening his many plastic containers, the young man pulled out a huge piece of chicken breast, some potatoes and a mixed vegetable salad.
"I can't eat this! It's YOUR lunch!" I protested.
Mark just laughed.
"LOOK!" he said as he continued to unload more food.
I wondered if maybe he hadn't eaten in a year...
"It sure does look good!" I said while staring at the meal in front of me.
"Well! Start eating....!" he laughed.
"Uhhh... I don't have a fork or....!"
Mark made exasperated noises and then pulled out some utensils from a drawer.
"There!" he laughed, then he thought for a moment, "Didn't anyone tell you we have a free microwave here...?" [Microwave ovens were not common appliances in 1973]
"Uhhhhh.... No!"
"Well we do! So there's no need for you to eat cold, dry sandwiches!"
"Do you eat this much every day...?" I started to ask.
"Every meal," he replied, "I can't gain a pound...!"
I thought about saying something like he didn't need to gain any weight, or that he looked fine the way he was....but I thought better of it.
"This is GREAT!" I chirped while munching the chicken, "Your Mom sure can cook!"
"My MOM!" he exclaimed.
I wondered if I had screwed up already....
"I cook all of my own food!" he said proudly.
"Really?"
"Yeah! Mom said I'm old enough to fend for myself....!"
I was relieved to hear that his Mom was.... well..... there!
"Can't you cook?" he asked.
I gave a sheepish nod, "No!"
"Well that explains it!" he laughed.
"What?"
"Why you are so skinny!" he said, repeating himself.
I didn't realize it but the ice had been broken! We spent the hour learning little bits about each other.
Mark has an intact, close family. Two older brothers. They own a farm near Broken Arrow (a small town outside of Tulsa). This was his first real job other than pumping gas and working in retailing. He had lived in Broken Arrow all his life. Which explained the mesmerizing accent.
Just sitting across the table from him was intoxicating. My cock was screaming, aching, hurtfully hard. Luckily it was under the table out of sight because I KNEW it would be visible in my jeans.
"What about you?" he asked.
I was dreading the question. What could I say? That my family was like modern day gypsies because my Dad couldn't hold a job? That my Mom and Dad had just split up? Because he cheated on her? That I never had any real friends and spent all my free time jacking off and taking road trips?
I tried to skirt around the worst of it. Mark listened intently but didn't ask any questions. As I thought about it later, it occurred to me that he might have been reading between the lines. Maybe he figured out I was holding back because there was no paradise in my young life.
The conversation soon shifted back to him. Which was fine with me. The more I knew about this handsome young man, the better. He was proficient in construction.
"What kind?" I asked.
"Roofing. Plumbing. Framing. Drywall. Electrical!" he said.
"Can't you make lot of money in that? Where did you learn all of it?"
"Look outside," he said, nodding towards the window.
I did as he requested.
"So?" I said.
"Do you know what that is?" he asked.
"Uhhhhh!!!" I stammered.
"Hot and humid as hell in the summer. Colder than a witch's teat in the winter!"
I had heard that saying many times in my life. It made no sense. How cold could a witch's teat be? Yet hearing Mark say it made me start laughing. Uncontrollably...
He smiled at me.
Perfectly aligned white teeth shone like pearls....
My cock lurched as my heart skipped a beat.
Apparently Mark had learned his skills from his family. His brothers had no objections to working in the adverse and usually miserable Oklahoma weather.
"What kind of farm....?" I started to ask.
"This year it's soybeans," he said.
That was another Oklahoma "staple." Along with corn...
Lunch came to an end and as we went back to work, I realized I had learned more about Mark than he had about me.
At the end of the day we took the elevator down and walked out to the parking lot.
"NICE CAR!" he said as I stopped at my Camaro, "Only DON'T park it so close to the building!"
"Why not?"
"Because there are a lot of people here who don't care about opening their door into yours and....!"
"Oh! I see! Gee, thanks!"
"Park out there," he pointed to the far end of the lot.
At that moment a motorcycle went flying by.
Mark frowned at the rider.
"Wasn't that....?" I started to ask.
"Tim," he said with a sour face.
My intrigue was aroused. The biggest impression Mark had made on me besides his "perfect" body was his affable, friendly nature. There was something going on between him and Timothy....
"May I give you a ride to your car?" I laughed, "At least to pay you back in some small way for the GREAT lunch!"
He smiled and nodded.
We made the short hop to his car....
"HEY!" I exclaimed while pulling up to a white Dodge Challenger.
"Yeah.... The Vanishing Point' [movie] car!" he chuckled, "Except it's a 72 and not nearly as fast!"
"It's GREAT!" I yelped.
He got out.
"We'll have to go for a ride sometime. Or maybe race each other!" he said.
My head swooned.
"See you tomorrow!"
"Okay!" I stammered.
My brain was about to short circuit....
The next day I was prepared. Or so I thought. I mean for lunch. Mom made spaghetti and meatballs so I proudly opened up my plastic container at noon. Mark looked at it and laughed.
"Still not enough meat. You'll never gain any weight eating like a bird!" he snorted.
Then he tossed some chicken fried steak my way.
"There!" he said.
I gladly accepted the food AND his attention.
At the end of the day as we walked to our cars, he turned to me and said, "I was only foolin' with ya! I mean.... I don't want to piss you off or anything!"
There went my mind again. Swooning away on Cloud Nine.
"It's okay," I reassured him.
"You sure? I mean....!"
"I promise!" I replied.
He shot me the biggest smile ever.
"Hey! You parked next to me!"
"Yeah!" I chirped.
The rest of the week was pretty much the same. Every day I came in with a bigger, better lunch, only to have Mark augment it with more staples out of his big brown paper bag. Which I was starting to think was bottomless. An eternal food pit! Kind of like him! He ate enough for an army.
As for me, I never thought about gaining weight. Although I had a feeling it was next to impossible. My metabolism saw to that.
Thursday after work he told me, "Don't bring your lunch tomorrow!"
"Huh?"
"We're going out to eat. It's payday!"
"Not for me," I said.
Paydays came every two weeks but since I had just started working for ATCO, that meant I wouldn't get paid until the NEXT payday.
"Don't worry about it. I'll treat...!"
"I have money!" I said defensively.
"But you're new here! You can pay for it next time!"
I smiled and we went our ways.
A routine began that lasted for months. Every payday we went out for lunch. Mark always picked an "all you can eat" restaurant. I was ecstatic about sharing an hour with him away from work.
Other work routines also developed. Everyone greeted me in the morning. Everyone was friendly and I felt at home. I had easily figured out my job. It WAS simple. And there was a ton of work.
"I don't get something," I said to Mark one day.
"What?" he asked.
"Well.... We work from 7:30 to 5:30...!"
"Yes!"
Well.... That's nine hours...!"
"Plus all the overtime you've been putting in!" he added.
"Yeah but... the nine hours a day...!"
"Oh... You get an hour of overtime every day PLUS all the other overtime hours," he explained.
"Oh yeah?"
"YEAH!" Mark laughed, "I think you're gonna be surprised when you see your first check!"
I mentioned that everyone greeted me in the morning. There was one exception. Tim. He rarely said anything other than a brief nod indicating that I even existed. I was curious to find out what that was all about. Plus the obvious tension that I detected between Mark and him. I was too timid to ask.
Opportunity presented itself within a week or so....
We were in the parking lot after work. Just talking before going our own ways. I was not going to turn down any time being with Mark. His infectious smile, cute boyish looks, perfect body, and very high energy level were all major turn-ons for me. I wondered if I was falling in love.
"No!" I told myself, "It's just because he's so nice... !"
For once in my life I knew someone who actually listened to me and I didn't have to worry about my Dad screwing up my world!
As we talked, Timothy roared by on his motorcycle, shooting dust and debris in its wake.
"Fucking asshole," I heard Mark mumble under his breath.
Mark never cursed. Which was a complete opposite from me... Well, I didn't curse at work... but get me away from a formal setting like that and I could turn the air blue.
"What is his problem?" I asked, "He never even talks to me. Everyone else does! But not him!"
Mark remained silent. I could tell he WANTED to talk but it wasn't in his nature to criticize other people.
I looked at him; he stared at me before turning away.
"Look.... I'm not going to judge you for anything you say. I feel like I know you better than anyone else at work....!" (Or anywhere for that matter, but I wasn't going to say that).
"He... He....!" Mark stammered.
I thought that was cute; but at the same time I could see he was really conflicted.
"He thinks he's so cool!" Mark said softly.
"Big deal! I think he's a dick!"
Mark chuckled.
"He wears those leather jackets and rides a motorcycle and.... he has some super fast car that he built himself.... He knows all about cars.. I mean, everything!"
"So the fuck what?" I barked.
Mark laughed again. I think hearing language like that was almost foreign to him. Not cursing wasn't a religious prohibition for him. Based on things he told me, his family wasn't particularly religious at all. Which made me very happy because I wasn't either. I think he was simply a really genuine, nice and very kind person.
"What ...." Mark started to ask, "What kind of music do you like?"
"Oh.... Top 40.... I mean rock and roll.... And soul and... well.... anything but country and western," I said.
He smiled at that last part of my answer.
"Do you... DID you ever hear the song, Smiling Faces?'"
"The Undisputed Truth? Fuck yeah! I love it!"
He grinned at me again.
"Well... That song is HIM. He'll be your friend to your face, but behind your back he'll...!"
"No shit? You mean he's two-faced?"
"Fuck yes!" Mark barked, then he turned beet red.
"It's okay! No one heard you but me!" I laughed.
Then he laughed too.
"He thinks he's so cool. He went to a trade school and he's only working in our department so he can end up moving into Drafting. He runs with a pretty fast crowd that cruises Brookside [a part of the city where teenagers and young adults gathered to show off their cars while trying to impress the girls] and.... he's always bragging about his latest....!"
Mark stopped and looked at me. I felt uncertainty in his eyes.
"His latest FUCK?" I said, hoping I had guessed him correctly.
He nodded. I had been right.
"So what does that have to do with you?"
"I don't know why but I ...don't measure up to his .... what ever he looks for in people. Maybe it's because I don't want to move into drafting. Or I don't have a hot rod or ride a motorcycle. But when I first met him here he was okay. We got along fine. We even went to lunch like you and I do....!"
I was instantly jealous.....
"But when I saw him down on Brookside one Saturday he acted like.... Like he didn't even know me," Mark explained.
"That's bullshit!" I growled.
"And I found out... kind of through other people, that he cut me down to his friends.... He calls me Zipper' and Scarecrow....!'"
My blood started to boil.
"WHY? Because you're taller than he is.... Or what?"
Mark looked at the ground.
"I don't know. Rhonda also told me about him. I guess they went out together a couple of times. She said he's so stuck on himself... I guess he judges everyone by his own standard of perfection."
I was about to explode. Part of me wanted to find Timothy and beat the shit out of him even though I had never been in a fight in my life.
"I... I..... !" I stuttered, "You're not missing anything by not having him as a friend. The loss is all HIS!"
I wondered if I had gone too far. Mark digested what I had said. He straightened up, stared into my eyes and smiled.
"Thanks," he said softly.
I told him I'd like to kick Timothy's ass.
"Don't. He's pretty tough. Besides, you're better than that!"
Now it was my turn. I looked into Mark's green eyes and felt something charge through my body. Like electricity. Only much more erotic!
"Thanks!" I said back to him, "At least now I understand. He's one person I don't need to know at all!!"
"I better be going," he said, "Don't forget...Tomorrow is payday. Your first! And don't bring a lunch!" he said.
"I'm buying this time!" I said.
He shot me the cutest, toothiest grin ever.
The next day...
"WOW!" I said to myself as Mr. Spinner handed out the payroll checks.
It was a lot! Much more money than I had ever earned in my life. Having ten hours guaranteed overtime every two weeks AND the extra hours on top of that pushed the net pay through the roof. Well, that's how it looked compared to my last job!
Mark must have seen the shock on my face.
"I told you!" he laughed.
He hadn't been exaggerating! As the weeks went by, I saw my checking account swelling in size. Of course, I still lived at home and working 60-70 hours a week didn't give me a lot of time to spend much of it. I did manage to double up on my car payments. And after about a month I started looking for an apartment.
The scene at home between Mom and Dad was intense. He kept trying to come back, and for some reason she kept saying yes. Then they would fight again or he would stay out all night...
I thought about that. When (being overly optimistic there!) I finally get my boy friend, it would have to be just him and me. I'm not into the idea of sharing my body with lots of guys. Not if I supposedly had someone at home .... but what am I saying? So far at the age of twenty, my only "lover" is my left hand!
With my long hours, it was difficult but I finally found a really nice apartment. A one bedroom furnished in a four-plex. It had LOTS of room and even a small fenced patio (ground floor) with utilities paid. For only $90 a month! [2021 equivalency $551]
Since it was furnished, all I had to do was move in my clothes, my new stereo gear (something else I upgraded with my earnings) and other stuff and I was ready. On my own at last! Over the weeks I decorated my place to try and reflect the real "me." Whatever that is...
Now there was some kind of equilibrium to my life. Except that living alone kind of heightened my overall solitary existence. Work was fine. Mark was so close yet so far away. I finally figured out that he probably isn't gay. Just a friendly country-style boy. Naturally part of my brain would keep making me flip that decision!
We kept our payday lunch dates where I watched him pack away enough food for ten people. I took road trips when I could. Although there was a new complication there.... Long rides combined with the vibration from the engine and the pavement gave me very painful boners. So much that, more than once, I jizzed right in my jeans!
I did finally get a chance to see what Mark had meant about Timothy.
It happened over Thanksgiving 1973. The plant was closed for Thursday and Friday, so we all got a four day weekend. Mark took three days off that week and suddenly I felt alone at work.
That's when out of the blue, after working there for months, Tim started talking to me. He seemed nice enough but there was an underlying cockiness to his attitude. He did know a lot about cars. And motorcycles. All kinds of typical "guy" things. He talked about his string of girl friends.
Slowly he started working Mark into the conversation.
"Don't take everything he says for granted."
"Why not?"
"Are you kidding? He doesn't know as much as he thinks he does."
"I never noticed that," I replied, "Everything he has told me seems to be correct... I mean he's never lied to me ....!"
"Oh.....! He doesn't lie. He just makes shit up. To sound like he has an answer for everything."
"Really? I hadn't noticed."
"And he's goofy looking. Like a string bean. Or a fucking scarecrow!"
I bristled at those words...
"....Wearing those stupid [baseball] hats all the time. And that cornpone accent...!"
Mark did like to wear a baseball cap. I thought they made him look even cuter....
"He's not a scarecrow!'" I replied.
"Fuck.... what do you see when you look at him? A tall, goofy string bean...! With that bright red HAIR!!"
"You're being very judgmental," I snapped.
Timothy stared at me.
"You actually think Mark is COOL? Like a NORMAL guy?"
"I'm not even sure what that means! But I know he's very nice! And he never cuts down other people.....!" I hesitated, "BEHIND THEIR BACKS!"
He stared at me.
"I don't believe it! You actually think he's okay?"
"Yes. I do... And stop criticizing him when he's not here. If you have something to say to him, say it to his face!"
Timothy turned beet red.
"Of course you won't do that. Because it's easier to do what you do. And besides, Mark could break you in two like a pretzel!"
Timothy laughed.
"Oh yeah?"
He flexed an arm and I admit he did have some nice biceps.
"He'd never mess with this!"
"Fine. Now. Unless you have something nice to say about anyone... Leave me alone!"
The conversation ended. But there was more.
That Saturday evening I was gassing up the Camaro at a station down on Brookside. It was a packed night with lots of teenagers and young adults showing off their cars. Typical male fluffing. While at the pump, a souped-up red 1970 Chevelle pulled in. Out stepped Timothy. Inside was a girl in the front seat and a couple in the rear.
Timothy was all decked out in nice snug jeans that looked like they were painted on his young, agile body. A form fitting pullover shirt and warm jacket framed his tight torso.
While we gassed up our cars, he stared directly at me. And said nothing.
Finishing up, he paid and walked back to his car.
"Le's go," he said as he turned briefly to look at me, "Nothing but losers around here!"
Firing up his car, he peeled out of the gas station parking lot.
I didn't tell Mark about any of what had happened. After Thanksgiving he was back at work and I felt warm and fuzzy inside.
That feeling quickly gave way to another nagging, familiar, perpetual one between my legs.
"I'm going to end up an old maid!" I sighed.
While partaking of my brief college experience, I learned about a bar downtown that supposedly catered to gays. One dark chilly December night I went searching for it. A small dumpy looking establishment with a pink triangle in the window marked the spot. [the pink triangle dates back to WWII and Nazi Germany. It also was the defacto gay symbol until replaced by the rainbow flag]
I must have walked by the front door a hundred times before I left. Being only twenty years old, it never dawned on me until later that I probably would have been denied entrance.
My exploration wasn't over... I also learned at college about a nearby park. I easily found it... There were some heavily wooded areas and concrete sidewalks meandering into the dark; all punctuated by a few dim lights.
Screwing up my courage, I walked into the darkness. It felt like hundreds of eyes were watching me, although the chilly evening probably made that unlikely. I found a brick building that had a restroom and some benches outside.
Sitting down, I asked myself, "What am I doing here?"
Deep in thought, I only vaguely noticed a shape pass by and enter the facility.
Gradually I realized I had to take a piss.
"At least here's a bathroom," I thought.
Not thinking about anything other than emptying my bladder, I entered the dimly lit facility. Unbuttoning my Levis, I fished out my cock and cut loose with a heavy stream.
I took no notice of the stall next to me. Or the two feet under the divider that signified that it was occupied. Why would I? I had just seen someone enter before me... Everything seemed perfectly normal to a person as completely clueless as myself.
After what seemed like "the great flood," I shook off my cock and started to tuck it back into my jeans.
"No! A voice whispered.
I froze.
"Put it through the hole!"
At first that meant nothing to me until I glanced down and saw it. Two fingers were beckoning at the opening.
I looked around. There was no one else present. My body trembled in fear and anticipation.
Slowly I fished my limp cock out and poked it through the opening.
I might have been naive and sexually inexperienced but my cock knew what was happening. It was my first blow job. My first sexual contact with another male! In less time than it takes to draw a breath, my dick was rock hard. I felt it throbbing as a warm mouth easily swallowed the entire length.
Small moans escaped my lips. Suddenly I didn't notice the coldness of the fetid, foul restroom. Thrusting my body flat against the stall wall, I pushed as hard as I could. My little ass cheeks tightened as my pelvis kept pressing into the steel partition, which screamed in protest against my savage assault.
Whomever was on the other side of the wall knew exactly what he was doing. His tongue washed the length of my cock and swirled around its mushroom shaped head.
"OHHHH!" I moaned.
The mouth responded by doubling its attack on my aching hard prick. My head dropped backwards as I stared up into the dimly lit room. That's when I saw HIM! It was Mark! Sadly, it was only an illusion created by my mind..... I imagined him driving me towards a thunderous ejaculation. His cute boyish face; those eyes; the perfect teeth. He smiled as he serviced my steely hard rod.
That was all it took.
"YEAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!" I panted as the first volley of cum came firing out of my cock.
The person on the other side choked and gagged as more and more of my jizz flooded his throat. The stall divider creaked in continued protest under the repeated assault by my slim body.
"OHHHHH FUCKKKKKKKKKKK!!!!!!!!!!!" I groaned as my cum kept drowning the unknown person who had taken my virginity.
Finally after what seemed like an eternity, the flood of cum tapered off and I pulled back slightly. There were more coughs and hacking as I felt cool air strike my still aching boner.
"You have a very nice cock!"
"Thanks," I said in a quavering voice.
"Do you always cum like that?"
I thought for a moment. How to respond? I had no way to compare. Like every high school boy, I had covertly spied on my fellow students in the Phys Ed locker room while taking a shower after class activities.
There were cocks of all sizes; some as tiny as a noodle, and others that looked like long thick pieces of sausage. Naturally they were all limp. That made me always wonder: What did those hefty soft ones look like when they woke up? And of course there was NO way to determine how any of them performed "under fire!"
"Yeah.....!" I muttered.
"We better get out of here before someone shows up...!" the person said.
The more I heard his voice, the younger he sounded....
"You're still hard!" he added.
"I know," I said softly, "One more time..... please!"
There was no answer. No audible reply. Instead I felt that warm mouth devouring my cock again.
It actually took me less time to shoot my second wad than it did the first!
I saw him again. In my mind. Mark. That was all it took before I was again feeding the eager throat milking my cock on a cold December night in 1973.
After finishing with my "partner," I withdrew my STILL hard cock and tried to shove it back into my tight jeans. Looking down, I saw the outline of my prick straining against the denim fabric. The sight turned me on! Not knowing the proper "etiquette" for the situation, I uttered a quick "Thanks" and left the building.
"Bye!" I heard a small voice call out behind me.
In the cold night, I headed off the concrete sidewalk and into the bushes. Hidden from view, I waited. And watched. I wanted to know who had stolen my innocence.
The answer came quickly enough! I pressed into the shadows as a very thin, delicate young boy left the concrete building.
"WOW!" I thought to myself, "How old IS he?"
My mind played with numbers as the boy quickly disappeared into the darkness.
The drive home on the Broken Arrow Expressway almost caused me to jizz in my jeans. My mind was exploding over what had happened My first blow job! I had no idea it could feel so great! A trail of discarded clothes led from the front door of my apartment to the bedroom.
Once home and naked, I leaped onto my bed and rolled over on my back. My cock jutted up into the air; it swayed back and forth like an angry cobra. Streams of clear white juice cascaded down its shaft.
Grabbing hold, I softly squeezed it and more dick honey bubbled out of a wide, gaping piss slit.
I started jacking off. Not slowly or gently. No. I began whipping my cock until my hand was a blur. The sound of my nuts slapping against my thighs was clearly audible. Faster and harder I went. My balls started churning. Roiling. Broiling. There came that familiar feeling. Something was starting to rise towards the end of my aching bone.
My thin body arched upwards; I felt my butthole tighten up.
"YEAH!! YEAH!!!! YEAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!" I cried.
A massive wad of cum shot out of my cock. My body bucked and thrashed, making the bed springs scream in protest. Once free of my cock, the cum sprayed out like a sprinkler. Some rained back down on me while more flew off in all directions.
"Splat.... splat.....splat.....!"
Jizz was striking the wall above the headboard!!
My cum has always been.... at least since high school, thick, creamy and white. Like tapioca pudding. Now there was "pudding" everywhere in my bedroom. The pungent smell of sex hung heavyily as my orgasm tapered off.
I could hear and feel my heart beating like a drum. It took only seconds for me to fall asleep.
That next morning, the events from last night caught up with me. After finishing myself off again - a mandatory part of my daily ritual (even more so since I first laid eyes on Mark), I started cleaning up the bedroom. And thinking.
I had lost my virginity. Yeah! But where? And with whom? In a dirty park bathroom? That wasn't how I envisioned my first time. The elation from last night started to turn into depression. My mood was compounded by the realization that while dumping my load in some kid's mouth, I had been dreaming that it was Mark.
I went back to work and tried to act normal. It was more difficult than before. Every time I let my mind wander and I looked in Mark's direction, my cock began to bone up.
December flew by. It was a short work month because the plants - all ATCO facilities - closed down for Christmas. That news really didn't excite me. It meant I would be home alone for eleven days! Oh, we got paid for the hours. No overtime, of course, but it was the loneliness I was dreading.
During lunch Mark told me his family was having relatives visit for the holidays. Great! No chance of me hanging around with him then! Not that it even had been a remote possibility anyway...
In fact, Mark and I never saw each other away from work. That only convinced me even more that while I was falling in love with him, from his perspective, I was just a friend.
Why does shit like this happen? On the last day of work before the holidays, at quitting time, Mark met me at my car in the parking lot.
"Hey! I tried to catch you but....you got away!" he laughed, "You move really fast!"
I evaded him because I didn't want to say goodbye for the long upcoming break.
"Sorry," I said.
Opening his car, he reached in and pulled out a paper bag.
"What....?" I started to ask.
"For you. For Christmas!" he said.
Damn! That toothy grin and his "Okie" twang made my cock stir.
I peeked in the bag. There was a present, all wrapped with a bow in cheerful holiday paper.
There was no disguising what it was. Large, squarish and flat.
"I bet it's an album," I hooted.
Mark blushed. He looked SO cute. I tried to will my cock to behave. Just then Timothy roared by in his Chevelle.
"Asshole!" I barked.
Mark laughed.
I felt like an asshole as well..... I hadn't bought Mark anything. I hadn't expected anything from him... I tried to apologize.
"You don't have to," he said, cutting me off, "I did this because I wanted to!"
What the fuck did he mean by THAT? No one else at work gave me anything. Well, Mr. Spinner gave us all Christmas cards, thanking us for our hard work, but that was it.
I was determined to not let this gift go unreturned.
"A month of buffet lunches," I blurted out, "As many as you want!"
Mark smiled again. I felt my body start to weaken.
"Okay! Deal!" He chirped.
Then came the sad part. We had to go our own ways. My eyes started to tear up as I watched his white Challenger leave the parking lot.
The Christmas holiday sucked. I decorated my apartment with ornaments, lights and a tree. Mom came to see it. We exchanged gifts and I took her out for lunch a couple of times and dinner as well. Other than her gifts, the space under my tree was barren. Except for Mark's present.
Mom asked me about work. She said she worried about me living all alone. I reminded her that I was a "big boy" now.
"But you need to find nice girl friend," she said.
I almost choked on my food. Sure. I want to find someone, spend years with him and then find out he's been fucking who knows how many people!
We avoided talking about Dad. Or what was going on between them. Better to not know than to ruin an already shitty holiday.
She loved my apartment.
"It just says "YOU!" she laughed.
Really? I wondered if my apartment was as lonely as its occupant.
I took some road trips over the holiday. Things like driving to Oklahoma City, then turning around and coming back. Or up to Joplin, Missouri. Big waste of time there! Or venturing into Kansas. EWWW!!!! People actually LIVE there?
NO more trips to the park! I didn't even think about it! I wanted someone I could see. Hold. Kiss. Cuddle. Sleep together. Feel his body next to mine. Not just shooting my wad through a hole into an anonymous mouth!
I did not want to end up as a gay version of my Dad!
I opened Mark's present last. Mom gave me the standard fare of clothes that I would probably never wear. I knew she meant well....
My fingers trembled as I peeled back the wrapping paper. On the outside was a card, "Merry Christmas for my best friend." He signed his name. I started crying. WHAT did he mean? He HAD to have other friends! There wasn't an album inside; there were two! Pink Floyd's "Dark Side of the Moon" and Led Zeppelin's "Houses of the Holy."
That's when I finally figured him out. Well, partially. Mark was a listener. A watcher. An observer. He obviously paid attention to his surroundings and what people said. The albums were proof of that. It had been more than a month, while we were talking over lunch, when I mentioned both of them. Only in passing!
He had paid attention. He had remembered. I looked at both albums and then REALLY started crying....
The holidays couldn't end soon enough. On the first day back at work, I gazed at Mark as he bent over to open a case of paper. His ass was so.......perfect! When he straightened up and turned around, I quickly looked away. Had he seen me staring at him?
"T...T...Thanks for the albums!" I stammered.
He smiled. AGAIN..... those perfect teeth and a goofy grin...... I never tired of seeing both.
"You like them...?"
"Are you KIDDING! I was amazed that you knew....!"
"I try to listen to people when they talk," he said softly, "Especially to my friends."
There was that work again. "Friend."
"Well I meant what I said. Plan on eating a lot!" I laughed to cover my excitement.
I wondered what it would be like to sleep with Mark. To wake up next to him every day?
All through January and into February I made good on my promise. In fact I extended it. He tried to protest but I wouldn't listen.
"As long as we go to "all you can eat" places, I'm fine with it!" I laughed.
In February and March, things got more confusing. Mark asked me to go out to a movie with him. More than once. We saw some really great films. "Blazing Saddles." "The Exorcist." "Magnum Force." "Westworld." Every time he paid for both of us. I protested. He just laughed. His smile and grin made me fold like that proverbial cheap suit.
I reciprocated and bought him dinner after each movie. We talked. About nothing serious. Work. Music. Movies. Light, airy topics. I was being drawn into him like moth to a flame.
If I hadn't been so fucking stupid, it might have occurred to me that this was his way of trying to connect with me. He might have been trying to tell me, "Take it to the next step."
I was SO clueless!!
The "movie dates" slowly trickled away. In retrospect I suppose he thought that he had tried and nothing happened. We were still "friends" but back to the level before the holidays.
My wanderlust was overpowering me. Oklahoma played itself out on the first day I moved here. It actually went back further than that, to when I was sitting in the school library in my sophomore year. That was in Missouri. It was in the middle of winter. A gale was blowing outside. The temperature never rose above twenty degrees all day long, and it snowed. And snowed.
Fate had it that I picked up a book on the desert Southwest and started reading. About the Sonoran, Mojave and Chihuahuan Deserts. Where the sun ruled and it seldom rained. It was warm. No snow. No ice storms like Oklahoma had all the time. No humidity that made you drown while breathing.
That was for me!
I put in for my vacation. I had ten days available, and took them all. My last work day would be May 24th, and I wouldn't be due back until June 11th.
"I'm taking the ultimate road trip," I told Mr. Spinner.
He laughed and said, "Enjoy. And be careful!"
As the 24th approached, Mark became more withdrawn.
"So you're going on a big trip!" he said quietly.
I could sense a .... sadness..... in his voice.
"YEAH! I'm heading to El Paso, then into Arizona through Tucson and Phoenix, over to Los Angeles, then back here through Albuquerque!"
"That's a long trip!" he said.
I noticed the change in his attitude....again.
"Yeah! I've always wanted to see the Southwest!"
"You're going all by yourself?"
I thought that was a strange question.
"Yes!"
"Be sure and have your car checked over before you leave. Make sure you have a good spare tire!"
He actually cared about me!
"I can send some postcards...!" I laughed.
"Okay...!"
"Give me your address then!"
He looked surprised. Then I realized he was thinking about me sending postcards to work...
Hastily he wrote down his address.
"It won't be the same without you here," he said softly.
My heart ached. Why did he have to say THAT?
The 24th arrived. At the end of the day, we met in the parking lot. Mark seemed almost lifeless. His usual effervescent energy level was completely missing.
"Be careful," he said.
"I will!"
"Don't take any chances!"
"Me?" I laughed.
"Drive safely!"
"I will!"
Just like that, we were gone.
What can I say about my trip? It was spectacular! I saw all the cities on my list. Unfortunately I didn't get to visit Juarez while in El Paso, but otherwise it was a blast! Los Angeles was very intimidating. So many people and cars! I saw all types of different races and ethnic groups. That was new for me. Tulsa remained a very segregated and racially divided city. Even in 1974. Admiral Boulevard was like the dividing line. South of Admiral, the neighborhoods were almost all white. Tulsa also had a dirty little "secret" that was seldom discussed. It had been the sight of a terrible race riot in 1921.
Los Angeles changed all of that! It felt cosmopolitan! What am I saying? It IS cosmopolitan! I managed to go to Knotts Berry Farm, Griffith Observatory, Disneyland, Marineland, Universal Studios and even to the beach.
The trip was completely uneventful. My car performed just fine. It never occurred to me how a twenty year old "twink" managed to travel three thousand miles and not have one sexual encounter.....!!!!!
I sent postcards. Lots of them. To work AND to Mark. I didn't say anything dumb to him like "Wish you were here." I felt like that would be rubbing it in. I just wrote short notes telling him what I had done or seen. And I took pictures, LOTS of them. I couldn't wait to get them developed. They would tell the story about my trip!!
My trip ended one day early so I would have time to do laundry and take my pictures in for developing. On June 11th there I was, back at work. Everyone was glad to see me. All my postcards were tacked to the bulletin board in the front office. During the day some of my coworkers would ask me about what I had seen and done.
Timothy didn't seem to give a shit! That was fine with me. Even the "teacher's pet," Gregory, seemed engaged and animated about my experience. He told me he always wanted to do something like that only instead going to New York City.
"No thanks! Too cold for me!" I laughed.
When I first saw Mark, my heart skipped a beat. Several beats, in fact.... He looked even better than before...
"I'm glad you made it back okay!" he said softly.
"Thanks!"
"Sounds like you had a lot of fun!"
"I did!"
He lowered his voice, "Thanks for all the postcards!"
I smiled and nodded.
"I would love to do something like that some day!" he said.
That would have been my vision of perfection; having him with me for all those days..... I wondered what, if any, hidden meaning was in his statement.
Over the month of June, I talked incessantly about my trip. It had been a big event for a sheltered, small town boy in 1974...
July came and it was another blistering Tulsa summer. The weather was hot, humid and thunderstorms rolled in every few days. Needless to say, there was no change between Mark and me....
I thought about the Saguaro cactus. The clear, blue skies. The beautiful sunsets. I made my decision.
Oklahoma sucked. There was a whole world out there waiting to be discovered. Then there was Mark. We were going nowhere. Apparently I HAD misread him. He was just a gregarious, overly-friendly straight boy. If he knew I wanted to suck his cock, he'd probably beat me into a coma.
Just when I had it all figured out, he invited me out to dinner on my birthday. My mind was starting to short circuit. What was he trying to tell me? DAMN! I wanted to...try...and make him realize....... FUCK! I am such a coward!
I dropped a bombshell after dinner....
"I'm leaving ATCO," I told him.
He looked surprised.
"You got a better job? That's GREAT!"
"No.... I'm leaving Tulsa. Forever!"
He didn't ask why. I had made my feelings known about Tulsa a long time ago. He had agreed with me on many points.... Of course the OTHER reason I was leaving was.... HIM. If we were going nowhere, why should I continue to torment myself? Better off to end it with a clean break and a fresh start.
"Oh!" he said.
His normally bright green eyes suddenly looked very sad.
"When?"
"I'm giving my notice the first Friday in August. Since Mr. Spinner has been so nice to me, I'll probably work with him and give three weeks or even more if he needs it."
"Oh! That's very considerate!"
After that, our friendship seemed to cool down. A lot. Mark wasn't rude or unkind. Just aloof. Quiet. A lot of people noticed. Even Timothy could see a difference.
August 2nd came and at the end of the day I spoke with Mr. Spinner in his office. He was shocked in a way but not completely surprised.
"It was that trip, wasn't it?" he laughed.
"Yes, sir... I have a star to follow...!"
He laughed again. The meeting was cordial. He was very appreciative that I was flexible on my end date.
My bank account was very healthy. My car was paid off. I had plenty of money to go for a month or two with no job.
Mark watched me like a hawk when I went into Mr. Spinner's office.
He knew. It was over. Or soon would be....
As I got into my car after work, he stopped and looked through the open window.
"You did it, didn't you?"
"Yes," I nodded, "Three weeks unless I'm needed longer.
"DAMN!" Mark cried.
Before I could say anything, he spun around, got in his car and went tearing out of the parking lot. That behavior was nothing like him at all!
I cried all the way home!
"I HAVE to do it," I said to myself, "I can't go on like this forever!"
That evening I just sat around my apartment and moped. Looking around at my habitat, I realized it would all soon be gone. I would no longer have Mark, any job or co-workers or a home. I would be completely 100% alone!
The tears went on all evening. Even after I showered, I still was crying.
Then I saw Mark's albums and the water works really started.
I didn't even have a picture of him! That was probably for the best...
There was a knock at the door around nine-thirty.
No one except the paperboy or some occasional salesman ever knocked on my door. Since I lived in a small four-plex, there weren't too many "peddlers."
I have to admit the paperboy really is cute. Short frayed cutoffs and a cropped T-shirt that showed off his tight abs. He is young. Very young! I contemplated trying to seduce him.
What? Me? That was hilarious. I took a pass on the idea. The thought of his Father kicking my ass cooled down those hormones!
I peeked through the curtains and my body shivered. Mark's white Challenger was parked outside. He had NEVER been over to my apartment before. I had given him the address a long time ago; and he certainly had asked enough questions about it at work.
He had been listening.... Paying attention to everything I said...
A glance in the mirror confirmed that I looked like shit. Crying for hours will do that to you! I threw some water on my face and opened the door.
There he stood. So lean and tall. Wearing one of his many baseball caps. There was something radically different this time. I was looking at a Mark I had never seen before! At work he always wore casual denim jeans. Usually from the Gap. He never wore Levis like Timothy.
My eyes bugged out as they quickly roamed up and down his 6'4" frame. A cropped, faded T- shirt highlighted his tan, flat abdomen and broad, square shoulders. The view was even better when I glanced down at his faded, tight Levis 501s. They had that look when the dark blueness is long gone and the fabric has turned to a bleached-out white look. The thin, worn denim was clinging to every contour of his body!
Nothing was left to the imagination. There was a large tubular shape pointing down his right thigh. My throat suddenly became as dry as the Sahara Desert.
Mark didn't notice the fact that my eyes were wide as saucers and focused on his package. He was looking down at the ground while his feet nervously fidgeted from side to side.
"Hi!" he said in a very sheepish voice.
"HI!" I replied, "Come in!"
He followed me inside and surveyed the layout. I couldn't help staring at his ass. It's shape was perfectly defined in the faded jeans. Once again, I tried to swallow but nothing happened!
"This IS nice!" he said, then he looked at me and noticed my bloodshot eyes, "Have you been crying?"
"No!" I lied.
The look on his face said he didn't believe me.
We toured the rest of my place. He sat down on my king sized bed and bounced on it a couple of times.
"Very nice," he smiled, "So you really are leaving?"
"Y-es!" My voice betrayed me by cracking.
"Oh!" he said very sadly.
I sat down next to him. Very close. Less than an inch separated our thighs. I was nervous as a cat. His scent was overpowering. It was always Dial soap and Breck Shampoo (I recognized both and started using them too!) and either strawberries or lilacs. I don't know how he managed that! Plus this time there was something else. It was the essence of Mark! Arousing, sensual and mesmerizing; an aphrodisiac I could not resist. My heart pounded like a jackhammer.
Weakening.... I felt myself losing control....
Our eyes met. His were such a bright green shade! I shivered inside! That blondish/ginger hair was poking out from under a slightly crooked baseball cap sitting high on his forehead....
It didn't matter now! No more endless wondering. I quickly leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. My body was electrified and my cock sprang to maximum hardness in about one second.
Horrified, I pulled back What had I done?
"Mark... Look... I'm sorry.... You can... You can beat the shit out of me if you want... I'm so sorry...! I had no right to....!!!"
The tears started. I couldn't take this any longer. It was like being tortured! Mark; his scent; the way he had dressed today. It was all too much. I closed my wet eyes; silently waiting for the blows that I knew would be coming. He's strong. Very much so. I had seem him carrying two cases of paper with ease. Like they weighed no more than a handful of feathers. Maybe he would be quick and merciful. I had betrayed our friendship.
For what seemed like an eternity, nothing happened. Slowly I opened my eyes and saw the two most beautiful emerald green orbs staring back at me. His face was almost touching mine.
"I.....!" I stammered as tears ran down both cheeks.
He raised his finger up to my lips and laughed.
"Shhhh!" he said softly, "I could never hurt you!"
He smiled.
"I'd rather do this," he said, "Something I've wanted to do since the day I first met you...!"
Slowly and very passionately, he kissed me on my lips!!