This is gay erotic fiction. If you are offended by graphic descriptions of homosexual acts, go somewhere else.
Neither this story nor any parts of it may be distributed electronically or in any other manner without the express, written consent of the author. All rights are reserved by the author who may be reached at cepes@mail.com.
This is a work of fiction, any resemblance of the characters to anyone living or dead is pure coincidence and not intended. They are all products of the author's overactive imagination.
The Interviewee Part 4
I sat on my couch, in my darkened living room, drinking vodka with a splash of orange juice. My fourth in less than half an hour. I was waiting for Chris, my long-time boyfriend, to return home from a dinner with his sister. I needed to talk with him; I needed to confess.
An hour ago, Alex was sitting on this very couch, his pants and boxers around his ankles, one of my hands on his cock, the other pushing its way into and through Alex's tensed anal muscles. Then, along with a gasp, he said something that made me stop.
"Keep going. I want this."
Something about what he said, about the way he said it, as though he were still convincing himself that this was what he wanted, made me stop.
"Alex. Have you done this before?"
"I've had boyfriends."
"You didn't answer me. Have you ever done this?" I wiggled my fingers in his ass.
"No."
"You were just going to let me? And not tell me?"
"I told you I wanted you to do this. I still do." He squeezed the muscles in his ring around my fingers, perhaps to show me he was still in control.
I slid my two fingers out. I resumed my hand motion on his stiff prick.
"What are you doing?"
"Alex, I thought you had more experience than that. I'm jerking you off. Then, I'm going to clean you up and take you home." Judging by the expression of Alex's face, my attempt at lightening the situation wasn't helping things.
"I don't understand. I thought you would, uh, you know."
"Yeah, I know. I thought I would, too. But, I'm superstitious and a bit of a romantic. You should save this for a special guy. I wouldn't feel right doing the honors here." His face blanched.
"Alex, I'm being serious. I think you're a really beautiful guy. Body, of course," I said, as my free hand, still squishy with lubricant, slid up and touched his abs. "But, also in mind. You're the most interesting, mature, and completely sexy person I've met in a long while. I've been in lust with you, I think, since I met you at your interview. That's why I was interested, until you told me I would be your first, uh, back there. Trust me, I didn't have a choice about how I lost my virginity. I don't want to go into it. But, I want you to have a choice. It can't be me, though, not tonight, not with this omitted detail sprung on me." If he had been looking at my face, he would have seen me tearing up.
I paused, steeling myself to explain further, sniffling back the tears that had begun their progression through my body, but Alex's orgasm overtook him and I could tell he wouldn't be listening. I kept stroking and looking at his beautiful face and chest until all of his creamy goo had pooled in splotches on his chest and stomach.
"Let me get a towel."
I cleaned him and started to pull his clothes back on when he pushed me away, still saying nothing. He dressed himself, stood up, opened my door, and I followed him out of the apartment. During the ride to his home he said only enough so that I could find his house; no extra words, no clues beyond the anger and confusion apparent on his face about how he felt. I tried many times to apologize; I tried to make it clear that he was not at fault for my abrupt change in interest. I couldn't tell if he was listening or understanding.
"Stop here. I'll walk." We were in front of a park. I did as he asked. As he got out, I apologized again. He slammed the door and didn't look back. When I returned home, I fixed myself the first of my drinks and took up a home on the scene of our aborted festivities. The warmth of his body was gone from the cloth; no trace of his scent remained.
The minutes ticked away and the level of the vodka in my glass steadily declined and then abruptly increased whenever I poured myself another drink. I was almost ready to pour myself a fresh vodka when I heard the key in the lock. Chris came in, silhouetted in the light from the hall. He walked in, as the door shut behind him. A few moments passed while he groped for the light switch. On came the lights and he saw me, slumped on the couch. He gasped.
"Geez, Jay, you scared me." Calling me by the pet name he had awarded me.
"Why were you sitting in the dark?" He looked at me more closely.
"And why are you drinking? Are you alright?"
"No. I'm not. Go get settled in and come back and talk to me. I need to talk," I slurred. Chris disappeared into our bedroom. I could hear him shedding his shoes and dropping his keys and other items onto the dressing table.
"Chris, you're my best friend," I yelled at him.
"What, Jay?"
"You're my best friend," I said it louder.
"I know." He was still moving around in the bedroom, perhaps slipping into more comfortable lounging clothes.
I finished my drink and set it on the side table while I was waiting for Chris to return.
How could I want something besides Chris? He was smart, beautiful, and funnier than anyone else I knew (at least, once he had a drink or three in him). He loved a lot of the same things I did, but he was also very much his own person. He loved hiking and surfing--and I really loved the body he had earned by participating in those activities. I loved everything about him: his ability to cook, his smile, his laugh, how he shaved himself in the morning. He was well read and could match me and take me down in any conversation; but you never got the sense he was arrogant or showy. He was Chris, ever so comfortable to be around, ever so beautiful. Why would I want something else? He should be enough, more than enough.
His walking out of the bedroom pulled me from my reverie. I turned to look at him. He had changed from his `casual Friday' office clothes into his Umbros and a t-shirt.
"Have a drink?" I said.
"No, I think you've had enough for both of us."
"I deserved that. Sit down." He plopped down next to me on the couch. His hand went for the remote and I intercepted it. "Can we talk?" He looked at my face. He almost seemed to be stalling for time, maybe hoping I'd forget. He couldn't already have guessed, could he?
"Yes, I wasn't sure if you still wanted to. What's up, beautiful?" He sprawled out across the couch, laying his head in my lap. He wanted to show me he was playful, maybe to get me to lighten up. I admit, I did have a funereal aura around my body.
"I did something bad today. I want to talk about it. I want you to forgive me."
I could feel him tense up at this statement.
"You're my best friend. You're also my lover. I need you to listen to me as a friend."
His body moved and he sat up again. "This sounds very serious." I nodded.
"I'm listening. You've got my complete attention."
"I've been infatuated with someone else for a few weeks. Pretty harmless. Except tonight I kind of did something." He looked at me, his face a model of neutrality. He nodded that I should continue.
"The guy was one of the candidates for admission to our old college. You know I've been interviewing for them. Well, I met him a couple weeks ago. He was hot. Look but don't touch, just fantasy material. I thought that was the end of it. You know, a little mental stimulation. But, he called me last week and asked to meet. He basically propositioned me, then." I could see his mouth opening.
"No, no. I want to finish this, don't stop me." I paused to recollect myself.
"I love you." I paused, almost choking on the words as I realized how true they were; how I had thrown something beautiful away. "I was sitting here earlier trying to figure out why this happened. I know that you have everything I want in a friend and a lover. Everything. I don't understand what happened." I sighed.
"Basically, I turned him down, but this guy started showing up at my office. Every day since last week. Today, I finally succumbed. I offered to drive him home. He said he wanted to interview me, turn the tables. I ended up telling him a lot about me. I took him to dinner. I couldn't keep my hands off him. I had him here, on the couch, naked." I gestured to the other end of the couch. I couldn't get myself to start talking again; only Chris looking at me, his face still neutral, convinced me I needed to finish and see if there would be anything left to salvage.
"I wanted him, badly. But, when I figured out he was a virgin, I couldn't do it. I tossed him off and drove him home. He was so hurt and confused, he wouldn't talk to me. And now I've fucked everything up." I started shaking, I could feel the blush on my neck emanating up to my cheeks. I could my face aflame with sadness and embarrassment.
"I hurt you, I've fucked up what we have. Chris, I love you. I don't know what I was thinking. Please..." My voice finally gave out and the tear factory went into overdrive. To my surprise, I felt arms around me, hugging me.
"I love you, too, Jay. You know, I was dreading something like this, wondering if it might happen. When I walked in the door earlier, this scenario kind of flashed through my mind. But, I needed to hear it from you." He pulled me closer.
"Understand this: I'm not mad. I still love you. I'm still your friend."
"You don't hate me?"
"No, I don't." He paused. "You've had a long day. We'll talk some more in the morning."
"Okay. I'll crash out here." I snuffled.
"No, haul yourself to the bed. You might even convince me to hold you tonight." He had a warm smile on his face.
I started crying again. I was such a heel and he was being incredible. I began to feel even worse.
"Why are you being so nice to me?"
"What is `because I love you,' for 200 points?" The humor was back in his voice.
He guided me to the bed, locking the door and turning off the lights as he went. He helped me onto the bed and then crawled in next to me.
"Go to sleep, my love," he whispered, kissing my ear lobe.
The alcohol I had consumed was enough to overwhelm the emotions coursing through my body. I was soon dead to the world.
The next morning I awoke to an empty bed. My head was pounding: too much alcohol, not enough water, my body was struggling to clear itself out. I would have to suffer. I got out of bed, did my business in the bathroom, and wandered into the living and dining area. I could see Chris in the kitchen, I wandered in behind him, about to wrap my arms around him for a hug. I stopped when I remembered that this gesture might not be appreciated..
"Where's my morning hug, Jay?" I completed the gesture I had started now that I knew it would be welcomed.
"Grab some silverware and set the table. I've got eggs and toast coming up. There's some OJ in the fridge, too, huh?" I grunted and set the table.
Eventually the plates of food, carried by Chris, made their way to the table. I started eating, hesitantly, fearing the food might trigger some ill reaction from my body. Chris was eating, but very slowly. I looked at him. He was looking at me.
He started talking first. "I would like to continue our talk from last night. I'm sure your head is pounding. Feel up to answering a couple questions?"
I nodded vigorously as I bit into some buttered toast. Chris, the man of natural sandy blond hair and powerful, though not toned, muscles, stopped eating and sat, thinking, for a few moments.
"Well, I need to determine what it is you want. Do you still want to be my friend?"
"We've been friends for so long. I wouldn't want that to change." I began to nod.
"I believe you. Okay. Do you still want to be my roommate?"
"Yes." Unsure if he wanted an answer or a whole explanation. He didn't pause.
"Do you still want to my lover?" His face raised up a bit and his eyes latched onto mine.
"Yes, but only if you still want me? I haven't been faithful..."
"Stop. And, to answer your question, yes, I still want you."
He stopped, pronged more eggs onto his fork, and drank some orange juice. He finished and looked hard at my face. I watched him bite his lip, obviously planning out his next words.
"I have conditions, though. I want two things: I want you to talk to me. Honestly, about what you're feeling. And I want to meet this guy." I gasped.
"Let me tell you something about me. We've never had an honest-to-God discussion of our sexual histories, which I find a little weird, considering how close we are." A ball began to form in the pit of my stomach. This was something I did not want to do; I didn't want to make Chris feel pity. I didn't want him to know.
"I got the wildness worked out in college, as an almost exclusive bottom. I bedded a lot of people." I gasped at his bluntness.
"You know that. You were around enough to see the revolving door of sweet young things, club kids and whatever else I found in the bars. I don't think I had a relationship that lasted longer than two months the entire time. Great sex, though, pushed the most important button in my body." Chris stopped and looked at me.
"But by graduation, I had enough of it. When we got together, finally, out here, I knew I could be happy with you, just you. I'd had my eye on you since, like, sophomore year." I looked at him questioningly. He nodded.
"But, I also knew you weren't the most receptive to the come-hither glance. I saw you go to the same clubs I did, and even though I was usually into the heavy petting stage with the flavor of the day, I noticed you brushed off all the inquiries. You never took anyone home. You might dance with a few people, but there was never the extracurricular activities happening." I could feel the blush returning. Chris must have noticed it, but he continued onward.
"I mean, the only way I actually knew you were gay is that you kept showing up at the alliance meetings and I would keep running into you at the gay bars and clubs." He paused, looking like he was thinking about how to talk about something troubling to him.
"So, when we got together, I figured you weren't as experienced. As I was, you see. But, I was more than willing to initiate you to the mysteries. But, I also wondered if you would someday get the itch. I mean, I was pretty sure I was your first serious lover and just sort of knew sometime you would want some variety in your diet. My itch was already thoroughly scratched, but over the last couple years of waiting I resigned myself to let you explore yours when it came up." Chris reached across the table and stroked my hand. He stopped talking while he played with the hairs on the back of my hand. I stopped breathing, nearly, while trying to figure out why he had become so open, so willing to let me go. I knew that he had a streak of jealousy in him; it must have been eating him alive to keep waiting and expecting to see his worst fears come to life.
"I expected eventually to find some trace evidence, a random phone number, a suddenly erratic work schedule, something. But for all the years, nothing. I couldn't decide if you were completely without the wildness or just had tremendous discretion. I guess I have my answer." He laughed. The noise broke me from my semi-shocked state. Chris had broken me down into my constituent sexual motivations with the skill of a gifted sex therapist.
"What's so funny?"
"Well, the irony is you had unfaithful thoughts and even a little action. But, you broke down and stopped it before it began. Not that I'm complaining, mind you. But, I didn't need to be so fearful, so vigilant."
"Thank you, Chris," I said, still shocked by what I was hearing. "I want this to work. You're so understanding, I don't know where this is coming from. I'll tell you everything, though. It's not pretty, but maybe talking it over will help me."
"Good. And don't forget I want to talk to your young stalker. What was his name?"
"Alex. But, I'm not sure he'll want to talk to me. He was really mad at me last night. I had let him down, I could see it written on his face."
"Try, Jay. That's what I am asking. Just try."
"But, Chris, why do you want to meet him?"
"I want to know what beautiful little creature finally got to you. I mean, besides me, I have seen you turn down some stunning looking men. I have high expectations for this Alex. Now that you've told me about how and when you met, I guess I have an answer to some of my questions. Like why you've become so aggressive in bed. You initiated more sex in the last month than in our whole time together. And you've plugged me more, too. I like this new side of you, even if this Alex was the fantasy that caused it. I got to be the grateful benefactor."
"Umm." I was lost in thought when Chris leaned closer to me across the dining table.
In his most conspiratorial voice, he whispered, "I also want to see if I could stand to share you with him. You know, let you sample what you used to turn down. Maybe, if the stars align, we could both partake, umm? Don't look so shocked. Like I said, I had the wildness in college and am over it, but I would do anything--well, almost anything--to humor you. Maybe I should tell you what I actually got up to, you know, a menu of choices to sample?"
His warm smile told me that he was trying to put me at ease even as he was revealing some of his past to me. Maybe he was even serious. All I knew, was that I couldn't imagine a more perfect person. I was so fortunate.
But as I began to think more, I realized this generosity on his part would cost me something. He wanted to hear me tell my story. A story I had told no one. Too painful, too embarrassing. Chris had done me a great favor and he wanted to hear it. This I could not deny him. But, bringing Alex back into my life, that task was not so easy. `Try. Just try.' Hopefully that would be enough for Chris. I didn't know if Alex would even talk to me again--or if I could stand it if he did.
To be continued.
Author's Note: I appreciate hearing your comments on this story or anything else. You can send me a message at cepes@mail.com. I will respond to all messages I receive. And, a special thanks to jfinn for some really excellent editing!