The Shuttle Bus Ride

The Shuttle Bus Ride

After a long hiatus, I am back with a new story. I had the inspiration for the subject of my story quite a while ago. Someone I met at work. But I did not have a story to go with it, so it ruminated in my mind until all the pieces came together. Also a heads up that this particular story is so much more about sexual tension than graphic sex (which is definitely there as well). It's about eroticism and the chase. It's about desires and how they come to fruition.

Any resemblance to real people or events is a pure desire for what I wished actually did happen in real life, but never did. So yes, none of this ever happened.

This story is about sexual fiction between consenting adults. It does not specifically mention the use of safe sex, nor does it make a statement about not using it. It was not part of the story line. But you and I and everyone should always use safe sex. Always.

If you enjoy this story, drop me an email with your feedback at DrThroat@aol.com

The Shuttle Bus Ride

At the time this story took place, I was 42. I am a law professor at Fordham Law School in New York. The law school and business school and a few other smaller departments are located in our Manhattan campus near Columbus Circle, but the main campus is in the Bronx. I had been teaching the same classes year after year in the law school, and used the summer break to camp out on Fire Island and write all my book chapters and various academic works besides teaching.

I lived just a few blocks north in the Upper West Side. It was a 5-minute walking commute to the campus for me, rain or shine. Essentially all my work was in the law campus, except for this one class they wanted me to teach the undergrads in the main campus in the Bronx. Twice a week I had to go all the way there to teach the class. It was a mixed blessing. It was a hassle to go to a different campus, but sometimes it was more refreshing to interact with innocent puppy-eyed undergrads rather than the usual pompous law students. It was my obligation to the university, so fine, I kept doing this as a junior faculty.

Now, as many of you know, no self-respecting Manhattan resident keeps a car in the city. We take a yellow cab or the subway everywhere. But the university had made arrangements for a shuttle to bus people back and forth between the two campuses. It was basically a full-sized bus, with two-seat benches on either side of the center aisle. Once an hour it went in either direction dropping off students and faculty to the other campus. On Tuesdays and Thursdays I usually took the shuttle there, taught my class, and then took it back. I had made the trip so many times already I knew the road by heart.

It's always interesting to see the nature of human interactions on the shuttle. Most of the riders were students, with occasional faculty or administrators who needed to go to the other campus. Students usually traveled in packs. Faculty and administrators usually were there solo. Once you found a seat, people usually passed your row and allowed you to have the other seat next to you empty. Unless it was a full bus, then people asked politely if it is OK to take the seat next to you. Maybe it was just the times of the day I took the shuttle, but the majority of times the seat next to mine stayed empty. Allowed me time to quiet down and meditate as we passed the scenery of the drive.

Occasionally, someone sat next to me. Either another faculty from some department, or an administrator. Like I said, students usually traveled in packs of 2-10. From time to time I had chatted with someone sitting next to me. I've casually met a few faculty from other departments. Enough to be cordial and nod hi when I saw them as I walk the halls, or sit next to them the next time we took the same shuttle. Nobody I would become friends with. Manhattan is not a place you make friends on the bus.

Not that I was missing friends. My social calendar had been full forever. Lots of dinner parties, late night parties, and oh so many dates. There is a never-ending supply of eligible men in New York. Except that I and they all remained eligible. You meet guys, you feel like there might be a bond. You go out a few times, and for sure check the goods before making a decision. Invariably the decision had been not to buy the goods and move on. Either my decision or theirs. And then there is the next guy around the corner. Another weekend, another first date, another first fuck. Another last date.

Enough background info. Let's get into some sexual tension. After all, that's why you're here reading this diatribe. It was the summer of 2018. As usual, my regular group of friends rented a house on Fire Island for the summer. By now we have all got up in the ranks at our jobs and for the first time we could afford to rent out a full share. The WHOLE summer, not every other week. All of my friends had regular jobs and still needed to go back to the city Monday to Friday, and I was the only housemate in the academic world who had the summer off. I planned to stay out there as long as I could. And that's what happened. I went there first week of June, and came back the last week of August to get ready for the new academic year.

I had the BEST time. Sun, sky, water, sand, and the boys. Oh, the boys. As my tan deepened, my bedroom needed a revolving door for all the boys coming and going. No Grindr needed. You just meet boys on the beach, at Tea, or even at the grocery store. One thing leads to another and the next thing you know someone is getting pounded hard. It was abundantly clear to all that nobody was looking for Mr. Right, just Mr. Right-Now. All those weekdays alone in the house became a hedonistic heaven. At times I looked forward to the occasional rainy days so I could accomplish some of the academic work I had brought with me. I will forever cherish the summer of 2018.

Before I knew it, it was the first week of September. Back to reality. Actually, a bit like Groundhog Day. Same classes I've taught for the past 10 years. Same shuttle ride to the Bronx campus every Tuesday and Thursday. Same routine of dinners with friends who would set you up with the next blind date. It's been only 2 weeks and I already miss the summer so much.

And then the fateful day came. The day I saw him for the first time. Michael. Except I didn't know who he was or what his name was at this point. I was sitting somewhere toward the middle in the shuttle, waiting for it to leave the campus in less than 5 minutes. Just looking out from my window seat and seeing who's boarding next. In walked Michael. Again, I didn't know his name at that point and wouldn't know it for a while more.

He had nicely cut brown hair, perfectly coiffed. Flawless skin still sunkissed from whatever summer adventures he had. Perfectly ironed and tailored dress shirt and a stylish narrow necktie. Broad shoulder that tapered to a fit waist. Nicely tailored slacks and fashion tan leather shoes that said he was still in summer mode. Accessorized with what seemed like a Louis Vuitton briefcase, the solid leather type without all the oversized gaudy logos all over it.

My eyes caught his presence as if a deity stepped on the bus. I guessed he might be around 35, just a handful of years younger than me. He was a real man. The kind you see from across the street and think he is marriage material. I had tons of boy candy in and out of speedos all summer, but here was an Adonis. A professional man, probably a fellow faculty, with brawns and brains. I felt like he's the kind of man I could happily wake up next to every morning for the rest of my life. Yet I didn't know anything about him. It was all mirage of what I've been looking for.

He didn't even perchance look at me as I was paralyzed with my gaze on him. He passed by my row and sat in the empty row behind me on the opposite side across the aisle. My heart sank. I knew I wanted to stare at him some more, find out the who and the what, but it would be too weird if I kept twisting my head back with no excuse. Instead, I just froze my head forward the rest of the ride and tried to act as normal as I could.

When we arrived, as usual the front rows got off and slowly each row got up and left in a very socially courteous manner. That has been the norm for the shuttle. An unspoken social rule. I got up as my turn came up. I could tell he also got up a split second after me and stood in the aisle right behind me waiting to get off the bus. I knew he was right there. I wouldn't dare turn back and look at him. Instead, I just dropped my gaze to the floor and confirmed his tan shoes were less than a foot behind my own feet. Act normal, I told myself. I got off the bus and continued toward my class. I didn't look back to see if he was going in the same or opposite direction. I made it all the way to my class without looking back even once. Luckily, the subject matter for the class was something I could teach the undergrads with my eyes closed and brain turned off. After the class, I grabbed a Diet Coke and headed back to the shuttle to go back home. I would need a cold shower and/or a good jack off to get over this day.

I stepped on the shuttle. Bastard! Not only he was already on the shuttle, but he was sitting in the same exact seat I was in on the way up. His head was looking down sorting through some papers he was carrying. As I passed his row, he never looked up. I passed him and sat in the row behind him, diagonally across the aisle is the same seat he was on during the first ride. This gave me the perfect chance to look at him from the side and behind without him being aware of it. A perfect nose in profile. Luscious lips, slight hint of dimples. Again, that sunkissed face against a bleach white dress shirt which by now was a bit more rumpled than the earlier encounter. The whole ride he kept himself busy with his papers, which gave me more than an adequate chance to check him out at my leisure.

We arrived back at the Manhattan campus. Again, everyone was doing the disembarking routine. This time it was me who got to stand behind him, unbeknownst to him, checking him out from behind. Those broad shoulders had even more definition from the back. A perfect V torso. That waist could not be more than size 30. The cutest tight ass leading down to solid thighs and legs in form fitting flattering pants. I have a thing for guys with perfect posture, and he was the very embodiment of just that. By now he had placed all his papers in his LV briefcase and was ready to end the day. He got off the bus and headed toward Columbus Circle. My guess is he was heading toward the subway station to go home. He was not going back to the campus. I headed home. I needed both the cold shower as well as a heavy jerk off to celebrate my new crush.

Wednesday was just a regular day in the Law campus for me. I woke up Thursday morning with palpitations. Was he going to be on the shuttle again? What are the chances? Was he going the main campus on a regular basis, or just a one-time trip that Tuesday? Who was he anyway? Certainly not a student. But I've never seen him before on the campus or the faculty lounge.

After my morning class I got on the same 1 o'clock shuttle. I quickly scanned the bus, and he was not there. The shuttle was slightly more crowded than last time, but he was certainly not there. I found an empty row and sat as usual by the window. Sure enough, a couple of minutes later he got on the bus. He scanned the seats, and he also saw that the bus was slightly fuller than last time. My row was completely empty. He came and he took the seat all the way across next to the window on the opposite side of me. Somehow, he managed to do all this without really looking in my direction or acknowledging my presence. Which is fine with me at this point. He sat there and once again sank into his paperwork. Once again I was in the precarious situation that I knew he was right there, but I did not have any good excuse to turn in his direction and check him out. Instead, I pretended like I was looking straight ahead or out the window for the rest of the ride.

Which is all fine till we arrived. Again the usual social norm of letting the front rows getting up and leaving, and each subsequent row gets up and leaves in an orderly manner. Now what happens when there is a person in the left seat and another in the right seat of the same row trying to get up and leave simultaneously? There is always a bit of a social awkwardness trying to extend courtesy to the next person letting them get off first. And that is the very first time that Michael and I had any kind of interaction. We both got up at the same exact time and our eyes met. I gave him a polite smile, and nodded with both my head and my hand letting him know that he can go in front of me. He quickly mumbled thank you and got in the front. Once again I was able to admire his perfect body from behind. Those broad shoulders and that cute tight waist leading to a luscious ass.

When we got off, I was actually able to see which direction he was going. He continued down the path straight ahead, as I turned left and went to my class. Later that day on the way home, I was on the shuttle first, and he came a couple minutes later. Even though the bus was not as full, he once again sat on the empty seat all the way across the aisle on the opposite of me. I had some papers to review, which gave me a perfect alibi not to check him out from the angle of my eyes.

When we arrived back in Manhattan, it was the same social dance of who should go first getting off the bus. Politely he told me that this time was my turn, and he yielded the way to me. Hesitantly, I got in the front and got off the bus. I started my five-minute walk home, but this time I stole a glance and saw that he was once again going towards Columbus Circle and perhaps the subway station.

Another weekend. Another dinner party with friends. Another first date. Another last date.

By Tuesday I was wondering if my shuttle encounters with Michael were going to be a regular thing or not. I didn't know the first thing about him, I had no idea if those trips were going to happen again for him. Sure enough, he was on the 1 o'clock shuttle on Tuesday. I had got there first, and was sitting in my usual seat towards the middle of the bus. He came in a few minutes later. This time he was wearing his ID tag. As he quickly walked by, I could see his first name was Michael, and his last name started with a K and had a whole bunch of R's and C's and Z's and W's. Sounded very Polish, but it was too much for me to be able to read and remember. So, his name was Michael. The few rows behind me were taken, so he sat a few rows further than usual. Look at me using `usual' as though I have a routine with this guy I knew nothing about. Anyway, this gave me the needed distance to google him while still on the bus. Yes, I went there. I looked up the faculty directory first. I entered "K,Michael" and a few popped up. Luckily there are pictures next to each name and I found him. Michael Kranzewky, no C apparently. New hire in the department of Graduate Business Education at the School of Business. His credentials were very Mid-Western, except he was now here in New York City being googled by me.

Next I checked Facebook. Nothing. Or perhaps his profile is not searchable. Twitter, just his academic account. LinkedIn, a nice academic profile for someone in mid 30's. Instagram, nothing, or at least not under his full name. After that I went to general google search. A whole bunch of academic publications. One post about his high school football team in Indiana. A couple of posts from his college frat in Northwestern U. But really, nothing personal. Either he doesn't like to share his life in public like most of do instinctively, or he has it all under privacy layers. I couldn't even find out anything to see if he was gay or straight. For all I know I'm just barking up the wrong tree if he doesn't swing that way and I'm just being a silly queen.

I put my phone back in my pocket. Then another idea came to me. I took it out and opened Grindr. Just in case. You just nevvvvver know. Nope, not there. Or at least not right now. Oh, well. I put the phone back in the pocket a second time.

Tuesday evening ride, again he passed my seat and continued back a few more rows. Thursday he wasn't there for the ride there or the ride back. Then, another weekend. Another dinner party with friends. Another first date. Another last date.

Next Tuesday, and I was getting over my crush a bit. I had no business gawking at a fellow faculty members like some horny teen. Still curious to find out more about him, but I was not getting too many gay vibes from him so far. He was definitely dressed fashionably the few times I had seen him. But I thought those muscles and that tight waist were more metrosexual rather than homosexual. I got on the 1 o'clock shuttle and wow it was crowded. Seemed like a whole bunch of students had taken up the entire back section of the bus already, squeezing all the "regulars" to the first few rows. No Michael in sight. I sat in the only remaining empty two-seater a couple of rows in front of my usual spot. I had not finished reading my law journal last night (another story) and had brought it with me to complete on the ride. I picked up in the middle of the article waiting for the shuttle to start the journey up to the Bronx

An angel's voice which I had only heard once before interrupted my concentration.

"Do you mind if I take this seat next to you? The shuttle is rather full today." It was Michael's voice.

Act normal. Act normal. Act normal!!!!

"Yes, sure, please." I pretended to skootch away allowing him more room in his seat even though both of us were in perfect physical shape and did not spill over into the next seat. He sat there next to me. Do I make small talk? Is he going to be buried in his papers as he has been in the past? Am I going to say something that would make it obvious I've been googling him?

I thought the most natural thing to do would be to pretend to continue reading my journal, not that the subject was going to even remotely command my attention. But then again I also didn't want to come across as cold and antisocial. Maybe this would be the chance to strike up some small talk and see where it goes.

Too late. I guess he got his cues from me and took out his GQ to read for the ride up. Again, a very metrosexual clue. Both of started reading our magazines, except that my head faced forward as my eyes looked sideways in his direction and the direction of the magazine in his hands. As we started the ride, I could feel his body heat next to me. His shoulder was less than two inches away from mine without touching it quite. He had a rather wide stance and his knee was even closer to mine. Many a time such close proximity in the steam room in the gym had led to wild hand jobs.

And then it hit me. His scent. He was wearing a cologne with a deep woodsy smell and a hint of musk. Through it all, I could smell something sweet, like a peach. I had never smelled anything like that before. It was mesmerizing and it was having an orgy with my organ of smell. I kept inhaling his scent as much as I could without hyperventilating. Musk, spice, birch, and peach. And 100% Adonis. I never knew you could get drunk from someone's smell.

Bang! The shuttle bus rattled as we hit a pothole on the road going 60 miles an hour. The whole bus shook and tilted to the right. Everyone fell over toward the right. As cool as I had tried to act this whole time, I too fell to the right. My right shoulder hit his left shoulder. My right knee hit his left knee. My law journal went flying over to his lap. I quickly shifted back to my seat and adjusted myself. I was in a disbelief how a small pothole made me lose my composure so quickly. Maybe because I was not paying attention and was half drunk soaking up his scent into my nose up until that very second. My magazine was still in his lap. I looked over at him with a fallen face as though I had lost all my cool. But then he burst into laughter. Oh, and such a sincere and sweet Mid-Western laughter at that.

"I guess you were totally absorbed into your journal. Here." He handed me my journal back. "I sometimes also get absent minded when I'm deep into reading something. I guess that what the phrase `absent minded professor' comes from."

Sweetie, yes I was absent minded and absorbed into something when we hit the pothole. But it wasn't the article in the journal. It was your scent. Naturally, that's not how I responded.

"Thanks." I took my journal back. I had to mount some kind of a graceful comeback. But what does one say in a situation like this? Back in the summer on Fire Island I was able to make small talk to a twink on the boardwalk with neither one of us wearing anything except a speedo and reeking from the sand and sweat, and that twink was back in my room with legs up in the air in less than 10 minutes. That was my confidence level. Now I'm sitting next to professor Adonis (Kranchewsky, or whatever that last name was, was too much to remember). Say something. Say anything!

"Yeah, you never know when you totally get lost into something." He thought I meant the journal, I knew I meant his scent. "Sorry, I hope I didn't bump into you too hard. I'm really sorry."

"That's cool. No sweat." Hmmmm, `no sweat' is definitely not a gay term. It's a Bro term.

"Again, I'm sorry, bro." What, did I just use the word `bro'? What??? What the fuck?

"Don't worry about it. By the way, I'm Michael. I'm new to the business school. Just moved to New York for this job."

Yes, Google already told me all that. "Nice to meet you. I'm Sean. I'm faculty in the law school. Have been at Fordham now for almost 10 years. But otherwise a native New Yorker." Ok, a bit of a normal conversation. "So, just moved to New York? Where from?" As if I didn't already know.

"Oh, well, originally from Indiana. But I did all my undergrad and graduate work in Chicago."

Act dumb and go with it, I told myself. So far so good. The ice was broken. We had already exchanged names. Act interested without coming across as too nosey.

"Never been to Indiana, but Chicago is a great place."

From that point we continued some chit chat about really nothing. Mostly about cities and weather. Enough to keep the conversation going, but nothing to reveal anything personal about either one of us. Just as I was mentally ready to pick china pattern for the two of us and our future home full of bliss, the shuttle arrived at the campus and it was time to part ways. A quick bro-like good bye and each one of us went in their respective ways. I assumed that he was also teaching a class in the same time frame and he was following the same schedule as me. I was officially in love.

Later that day, on the way home, the shuttle was rather full again. Michael was already on the bus as I boarded. He was sitting by the window seat and there was a wench already sitting next to him. As I passed his row, we exchanged a polite nod and I found an empty spot a few rows further back. Opportunity lost. But it was best not to be too forward and too quick. You rush a hook up, not a husband material.

I still couldn't read him correctly. Not sure if he was gay or not. Not even sure if he was taken or not. Even though we had a brief conversation, I didn't get to learn much about him that google had not informed me already.

Next Tuesday, I was on the bus bright and early for the 1 o'clock shuttle. Still trying to look professional, I wore a more handsome outfit to reveal my muscle definition. For a moment I thought about wearing my Tom Ford cologne, but then I didn't want to compete with his. Like clockwork, Michael boarded the bus 5 minutes before departure. I tidied up and fully expected him to come sit next to me, his new BFF and future husband. Instead, he walked by, gave me a polite nod, and continued to the back. I was just crushed! Absolutely crushed!!! How can he not come sit to me? Then I realized I was borderline a stalker and I still didn't know him and he knew nothing about me. We were most certainly not BFF's. Get your act together Sean!

On the ride back, he was on the bus first. Sitting toward the middle with the seat next to him empty. No Sean, you're going to show restraint. I acted exactly how he acted earlier in the day. It took all my will power to walk by, give a polite nod hello, and continue past him towards the back. I had to act normal. Can't act like a juvenile school girl in public.

The following Thursday he was nowhere to be found, on the ride there or back. For all I know, I may or may not ever see him again. I never got to the bottom of it to see what he was doing in the Bronx campus. I just assumed he had the same teaching duties as me following the same class schedule. But I had never asked.

Next Tuesday. I got up on the bus. He was there, the usual spot in one of the middle rows, sitting by the window. The seat I had taken oh so many times over the years. Do I just sit down in one of the front rows and avoid that unpleasant nod? Do I walk by, throw a polite nod, and continue to the back? Instead, I took matters into my own hand and proceeded toward him.

"Care for company?" I said.

"Sure, that would be awesome." He said back, but his most sincerest smile.

I sat in the empty seat next to him. "I'll try not to throw my magazine at you again."

He laughed out loud. "That was funny. And the look of horror on your face was even funnier. I wish I had videoed your face."

OK, professor Adonis is getting chummy with me. Sean, be friendly yet stay professional for now. Don't fuck it up. Keep the sass level to medium. "Didn't know you're a walking Candid Camera."

He laughed again. Good comeback. As I sat down, I got engulfed in his scent again. Musk, spice, birch, and peach. Such a mesmerizing smell. So unique. I had the chance to actually look him directly in the face as we had conversation. I didn't have to steal a glance any more. His angelic blue eyes were so intense they felt like a deep ocean. He had this cute little beauty mark on his upper right lip, the only sign of any possible imperfection, if you can call it that. But it gave me a focal point to check his luscious lips as he maintained conversation with me.

This time I was a bit more inquisitive in my conversation. For the rest of the ride, I found out that he is was new hiree, right out of grad school. Yes, he was teaching a Tuesday-Thursday class in the main campus as part of being junior faculty. Even though he was from small town Indiana, he always wanted to move to a big metropolitan city. He thought Chicago would be great, but his few trips to New York really made him see the charm here. So he knew he would want to move here and explore as soon as he could. I also understood in between the lines that he only has the one friend here in New York, his buddy from college. He had been here a few weeks but apparently the campus is not the best spot for making new friends, at our age and as faculty, anyways. Awwwww, I'll be your new best friend, haven't you figured that out by now?

We arrived, said a quick good bye, and each one of us continued to our respective classes. On the ride back, I was the first one on the bus. I rushed to my usual seat. He boarded two minutes later and came and sat next to me directly without even asking. True love.

"How was your class." He asked

"I've done this same class for like 10 years now. I find the students very interesting, but the subject matter is so basic and at least for me very repetitious. But I love teaching, so keep doing it."

"I'm sure I'll feel the same way in a couple of years." He replied. "I've been teaching for a while now too even though I'm new here. That's how I paid my grad school tuition." A self-made man.

For the rest of the ride, I tried to plant some seeds to see how he would respond. I had to find out if he's gay or straight. I mentioned that a group of friends we had a summer share in a house on the beach on Long Island. I didn't mention Fire island for the gays vs the Hamptons for the straights just to see if he picks up on it and asks where. He didn't. I guess he is not familiar with that landscape. I even mentioned some of the bars my buddies and I usually go to. Those names didn't seem to have any resonance for him neither. I don't think he understood those were gay bars.

We arrived to our campus. We got off. He padded me gently on the back shoulder as we said good bye and we went our separate ways. For him, that was a simple bro pad. For me, that was pure electricity. It was the first time he touched me in an intentional way. The one time I fell over him in the bus was pure embarrassment, but this was deliberate. It showed affection, though perhaps in a plutonic heterosexual way. Yet it was a warm and gentle touch. It was the entire palm of his hand on the back side of my shoulder. I will never wash that shirt or that shoulder again. I will cherish the scent of musk, spice, birch, and peach on me and my shirt.

For the next few weeks it had become a regular thing that whomever got on the bus first would go to our usual seat, and the second one would join without asking for permission. It was as though it was expected. Every single time I would get drunk with his smell and his charm as we maintained chit chat about the school, New York, or anything and nothing in particular.

By now it was end of October. The subject come up that I hate the cold weather in New York and I try to get away in the winter as much as we could. I told him that a group of guys we rented a house in Puerta Vallarta and plan to be there over the Christmas break.

"Growing in Indiana and the Midwest, you just take the cold for granted. It's just part of life." He said. "I think for the holidays my wife and I plan to go back to Indiana to spend time with family."

Wait, WHAT??? My eyes went black. I felt extremely nauseous and was afraid I might vomit right then and there. What? A Wife? How could this not have come up all this time? As he continued to talk about their travel plans, it took me a couple of minutes to catch my breath. I don't know how he didn't pick up on the extreme amount of sweat all over my forehead. Once I was able to see more clearly, I looked down on his hands and yes, there was a wedding ring right on the ring finger. How could I have missed this all this time? How is it possible that I had not looked at his hand all this time? Granted, it was not a big and shiny ring, it was barely noticeable. Probably bought it when they had a small budget. But still, it was there and I had not seen it all these 4-5 weeks I've been stalking him.

Get your act together Sean. Finally I was able to get my composure back. "Yes, it is always great to spend time with family. Me and the guys, I'll have a one of those fruity drinks with an umbrella in it in your name as you're sitting there in the tundra of the Midwest over the holidays." He laughed. He had not picked up at all about turmoil I had just experienced.

Of course he was taken, like Duh! And so he's straight. Most people are. How could I have been blind all this time when all I had to do was to look on his hand to see if there was a ring. It is possible he was not wearing a ring previous times? How could I have not seen it?

Our next ride, I tried to pry a bit more. So Cindy was Michael's high school sweetheart. They ended in same college. They continued to date and then got married when they were 23. Not terribly young by Midwest standards, especially if you're marrying your high school sweetheart. She went to nursing school and has been working ever since. He continued in business school and then his PhD. I danced around it a few times, and finally found out no kids. Not sure if deliberate or not. But they've been together since age 16, married since age 23, and now they're both 35'ish and still no kids. Kinda odd for people from Midwest. It was really his push to come to New York. She would be happier if they stayed in Chicago or even went back to Indiana. But he was ready for the Big Apple, and she obliged.

Hmmm, interesting story. But that put an end to my story with him. No hopes of anything happening. He was taken and he's straight. Great to have a buddy for the long shuttle rides back and forth, but that's where that ends.

We did in fact continue to sit with each other for our four shuttle rides 4 times a week. A comfortable shuttle-only friendship developed, even though I worshipped the ground he walked on and got drunk on his scent of musk, spice, birch, and peach every single time. Sometimes at night I would jerk off thinking about him and me. Him in me, and me in him. I dreamt about rolling in the bed with him, rubbing myself all over him to make his scent mine. I dreamt of nibbling on his cute little beauty mark on his right upper lip. I dreamt of those lips wrapping around my dick and worshipping it until I came inside his throat. I dreamt of being his `wife', waking up next to him every day for the rest of our lives. I dreamt of walking down the beach hand in hand and stealing kisses every few steps. And then I would ride the shuttle with him and had to try to keep it cool and professional.

Looking back at it, we had talked a few times about him and Cindy, but somehow my dating life had never come up. He never asked if I was seeing someone or not. I don't know what he assumed, or didn't. Maybe that was his polite Midwest manners that kept from prying. And on my end, I was happy to have his exclusive company four times a week and a few times more in my masturbation sessions. I never asked what cologne he wears, because otherwise I would buy a case of it and bath in it. Instead I found a peach spice candle and would occasionally light it to get as close a scent of him at home as I could when I was stroking my dick with image of him in my mind.

Besides our rides together, I would occasionally also bump into Michael in the hallways, on the campus walks, or even in the faculty cafeteria. A few times he also sat with me for lunch when our schedules coincided. It was very much a work-only friendship though. Neither one of us initiated going for drinks or dinner after work. Not sure if he was too shy to ask, and as for me I knew that seeing him with his wife would ruin my imaginary bromance with him.

And something in me had changed too. I had a wild summer in Fire Island with boys galore. It was a very hedonistic time for me. Not looking for Mr. Right at all, all just for pure fun. And then when I came back to the dating scene in New York, I suddenly did not have the patience for all the mind games. I was tired of those first dates and last dates. I didn't have the patience of meeting someone new just to focus on all his flaws, and him focusing on my flaws. Instead, I wanted my own Michael. A solid man, self-made, smart, and with a career. Maybe even a professor, just like me. I wanted the exact version of Michael, except gay, available, and madly in love with me the way I had fallen in love with Michael. I couldn't have the real Michael, but I wanted the closest possible replica.

This continued into early December. Finals were the following week and then we're off. I was getting more excited for my Puerta Vallarta trip. Haven't been away since the fabulous summer in Fire Island and I needed some sun and sand. Michael had mentioned that Cindy and him also had tickets for Indiana few days before Christmas. She was looking forward to it more than he was. He kinda wanted to spend Christmas and New Year in New York, this being his first year here. But she insisted they needed to go visit family.

The last Thursday of the month. Michael and I did out last shuttle bus ride. Usual conversation. We said good bye, knowing I wouldn't see him for a month. Even if both of our trips would end a few days after New Year's, we so far had never made any plans to meet besides whenever we were on campus. We never even exchanged phone numbers or emails.

The last Friday of the semester, the week before Christmas. I got to my law class early to administer the final. It's a 3-hour exam. We also have the honor system and I didn't need to sit there the whole time. As the students were doing their essays (which I would have to spend the next week reading), I went back to my office to sort last minute things before I was gone for a month. Did a good job with my email inbox. Then checked my spam mail, just to make sure I have not missed anything. Among the over 100 emails there was one from Club Dick. Oh, good ole' Club Dick. It's a sex club downtown. They're open on the weekends and they occasionally do a theme party. I have gone there a few times in the past. Somehow they got my email. And even though I had unsubscribed a few times, they still send the occasional email. I clicked to open the email:

Club Dick presents

Pre-Christmas party!

NAKED NIGHT special

Doors open 10:00 PM

(followed by some very suggestive cartoon graphic that left nothing to imagination)

The date happened to be tonight. Huh! Who knew?!? What are the chances I just opened the email by luck? I wasn't quite determined to go, but just in case, I printed the email out as a reminder and put it on top of my stack of papers to take home. At noon I took all my papers, locked up my office, and headed to the class to finish the finals exam. From there I went to the faculty cafeteria to grab lunch before heading out. I grabbed my food and sat in my usual spot in the cafeteria. With one hand I started on my sandwich, and with the other hand I sorted through the first few papers to grade. I was completely absorbed in the stupidity of the second paper when I smelled it: musk, spice, birch, and peach. Without lifting my head I know it was him. Michael. Without bothering to ask or even say hi he was putting down his food and his stack of papers on my table. As though it was a given we should dine and ride together now and forever. I did get to see him one more time. A bonus encounter.

No hi from me either. As though he has been sitting next to me for hours. "All done? Ready to go back home?" I asked.

"Yeah, All packed. I'm meeting Cindy at home and our flight is later today. Although I really would have preferred to stay in the city. Are you all packed and ready?"

"Yup. Sun and sand, here I come."

I put my papers aside and we finished another polite and friendly albeit superficial conversation during lunch. When it was time to go, he leaned over and gave me a bro hug with only the shoulders touching and plenty of space between our chests and pelvises. A mutual pad on the back and we said good bye for the next month. For the next few weeks Michael and his scent would have to live in my memories, in my late-night jerk offs with the peach spice candle burning.

I looked to the table to pick up my papers. The print-out from Club Dick had been sitting there face up on top of the stack the whole time. With big bold letters and that very suggestive graphic. I turned red. I never officially told him I'm gay, although I'm sure he must have figured it out. And now this is the official first confirmation he sees? An invite to a sex club? Did he see it all, or was he oblivious to it as he had been to so many other open clues? What must he think of me now? He did give me the bro hug after, so probably he didn't see it or didn't mind it.

That afternoon I got my mani/pedi (and wax) getting ready for the beach. I went to the gym and toned up a bit. Had no date or dinner plans. Had dinner by myself. I thought of calling it an early night. I lit up my peach spice candle, grabbed a hand towel and headed to bed to jerk off thinking about Michael and then go to sleep. The same images of us kissing passionately and making endless love in all kinds of positions came to my mind. I've done this exact scene dozens of times. Then, somehow, as the scent of peach was getting stronger, in my mind images of me kissing Michael got replaced with Cindy. Not that I knew what she looked like. But I saw this brunette with mid length hair riding it cowgirl style on top of him. Her perky boobs floating up and down with every movement. I saw his dick disappearing into her pussy, and pussy juice dripping on the sides. She was screaming as he kept telling her how much he loves her.

I snapped up. This is not how I imagined my jerk off session to go. How did that bitch Cindy get in there? Something is wrong. I was still horny, with a raging hard on. But I couldn't recover from the nightmare I just created in my mind. Then I had a bright idea. The only way out would be to go to Club Dick and let a total stranger finish me off. I didn't feel like even trying on Grindr making chit chat until some guys showed up here. I needed a stranger's mouth on my dick with no questions asked and texts exchanged.

I put my sweatpants on and headed to Club Dick. It's a poorly ventilated basement in the Village. Tons of narrow alleys, glory holes, and a few benches and private rooms. Old gay porn shown on even older old TV sets. The place always smelled like stale piss and even more stale cum. For naked night you check all your belongings in a bag and then head in. I was in pretty good shape and have nothing to hide.

Now, you think you show up to a sex club and let's go do it. Not so fast. There are some unspoken guidelines and norms. We have men of all ages and ethnicities there. But there are certain distinct personality types there. The most prevalent type is the older gay men. Much, much, much older. People in their 60's, 70's and even 80's. These people have been coming to clubs like this since before Stonewall. For them, this was the norm rather than exception for gay hangouts. They've been here in this club and others like it ever since. They are nothing to look at any more, though I'm sure they were all attractive and randy back in their youth. But the best thing about them is how they worship your cock. They know they can't get a twink or even someone like me all on their own. They usually hide behind glory holes and offer never ending blow jobs to everyone, no questions asked. Again, these guys have been sucking cock like this on their knees in dark rooms for decades. They know what they're doing. My best blow jobs have been from guys like this. And yes, I'm vain. I can't pretend to be attracted to grampa as he blows me. So I use the walls of the glory hole to provide a barrier between us. I usually close my eyes and imagine I'm getting blown by the hottest men I know. I usually let the grampa finish me off. Those are the best blow jobs.

There are some other types too. There are normal guys like me on a dry streak. There is an occasional couple. They want to misbehave, so they come here together. They work in a team, have fun with the hottest guy they can find who enjoys the double attention, and go back home once they had enough fun. Then there are the `straight' married guys. Usually in their 40's. They take the wedding ring off before they come in, but you can see 20 years of the indent imprinted on the ring finger. They are usually pretty lousy as they are nervous about being there to begin with. You also get the occasional twink. Someone must have told them about this place and on a night when Grindr was not going anywhere, they decide to check it out. All hands are usually on them. Conversely, the twink always looks for a potential sugar daddy instead of Mr. Right or Mr. Right Now.

I walked the dark hallways a few times. A few people making out. One medium grade guy getting head from a grampa in the open area as 10 other guys stood around and jerked themselves off. A couple of people in the private rooms with the doors open, but nobody I was interested in.

I walked to the section with a whole bunch of glory holes. A couple of guys were getting serviced. A couple of other open holes with nobody on either side. There was this last hole with a guy sticking in tongue out in suggestive manner. I approached him and it was a black guy with a goatee. He had luscious lip and he must have sensed someone was coming. He stuck one finger in the hole and motioned for me to come over. All I could see was the one finger, his lips and his goatee. No clue what he looked like. I just hoped he'd be able to suck me off like some of those grampas.

I leaned over the separation panel, leaned my belly over and thrusted my hip in. My dick went into his mouth with one motion. Nice and moist, much better than my own winter-dry hands from an hour ago. I just stood there and let him do his thing. And he knew what he was doing. He grasped the base of dick with his hand as he swallowed the rest of my dick into his mouth. His head and hand went up and down my shaft in rhythmic motion. I knew I'd get a good blowjob here tonight. And this guy was not disappointing.

I leaned over the panel, closed my eyes, and let my imagination take me back to Michael. In my head I imagined us back on my bed together. Rolling over and over, kissing, and swallowing every inch of each other's body. I invoked his scent in my head: musk, spice, birch, and peach. I imagined all those shuttle bus rides where I was getting drunk from his smell right next to me. All the while as this guy with a goatee was servicing me.

Things got busy on the other side of the glory hole. I felt more than one tongue, more than one set of lips. My goatee guy now had company. Yup, I could now feel two mouths on my dick at the same time. They were fighting over who will swallow more of my dick. My dick got pulled from one mouth to the next, hands touching my pubes and ball all at the same time. I got pulled left and right, and I was loving the attention. Then there was only one mouth again. But this was the second mouth, not the first one. It felt different. No razor burn from the goatee. He was also not using his hands to grasp me at the base of the shaft. Instead, he had enough negative suction power in his soft mouth to pull all of me into his mouth. Powerful lips wrapped around the base, as rhythmic motions tried to swallow my all my cock. If my cock wasn't attached to me firmly, I would have it lost it all into this guy's stomach.

This grampa was even better than the first one. What a jackpot of a night. I let him do his thing to me. Worship my cock, you old man. Let me fill you with my fountain of youth. I closed my eyes again and I was back to images of Michael. I tried to conjure up his image in my mind any way I could. I imagined we were in my bedroom and he was sucking me off. I conjured up his scent in my head: musk, spice, birch, and peach. Musk, spice, birch, and peach. Musk, spice, birch, and peach. This is the wildest my imagination has ever taken me. The blow job was so fantastic, the images in my mind so the intense, the scent so overpowering in my mind. Musk, spice, birch, and peach. Musk, spice, birch, and peach. Musk, spice, birch, and peach. Awwwwwwwwww! This was too much. I shot my load into grampa's mouth. I didn't even bother yelling it out to warm him. I just shot a huge load. Let him choke on it. He'll love it. He'll cherish this moment even more than me. And grampa did not disappoint. As soon as he felt my contractions, he pulled my balls into his hand and squeezed every last bit of cum out of them. I was completely drained of every single last sperm in my body. It was all in grampa's throat. Hope he liked his present. The whole cupful of it. Merry Christmas grampa.

I didn't move way. I couldn't. I was drained. I had no energy left. I barely could still stand up, let alone move away. I was satisfied. Very satisfied. Even though my brain games invoking images of Michael were over, the scent did not leave me. Musk, spice, birch, and peach. Musk, spice, birch, and peach. Musk, spice, birch, and peach. I'm no longer fantasizing, but can't get the smell out of my head.

I slowly pulled back. The black guy with the goatee was long gone. I couldn't see which grampa it was, but I could make out the outline of a generic young white guy licking his lips from my fresh cum. And on the upper right lip, that same beauty mark which I have come to adore and love for the past few months....

My heart sank! Could it be??? How many other guys could have the same exact beauty mark in the same spot? And his scent was still in my head. Or was it not just in my head?

I went around the barrier to see. Michael was still kneeling on the floor next to the glory hole. Our hole. He saw me peeking over the edge and looked up so innocently. He was still licking his lips in satisfaction. Somehow he did not seem as shocked as I was. I was horrified, but he looked satisfied. He then got up and stood face to face to me. Our eyes locked like they had before. A silence took over us. We stood there, naked.

Even though forever I had wanted to see all his body in its naked glory, I was locked into his gaze. I had imagined his naked body in my fantasies for a couple of months, but had no idea what the real thing looked like. Did he have little boy nipples, or manly juicy nipples? Did he have a hairy chest? I knew his belly was tight, but did he have a toned six pack? Was he cut? Does he manscape down there? I had images of all this in my mind, but never knew the real answer, until now. Here he was, all naked, for me to confirm all my guesses. But I couldn't defocus from his face. I was locked into his gaze, and he was locked into mine. Face to face, eyes to eyes.

I wanted to touch it all, but we just stood there and gazed at each other. Maybe for at least for 5 minutes. Nobody said a word. Nobody blinked. This is the most awkward situation I have even been in my life. How do you end this stare-off? Do I go over and kiss those luscious lips like I've been dreaming about for months? Do I drop on the floor and finally put his dick in my mouth like I have been fantasizing about? Do I just hold him in my embrace and soak up his scent as long as it lasts? Or are we going to be frozen like this forever?

Finally he pulled his tongue out one more time to lick the one corner from whatever leftover cum was still there. My cum. My essence deep down his throat. All the while that I thought I was feeding grampa number 2. I needed to make a move, as he was just as frozen as I was. I went over and kissed him gently. His lips met mine and we locked our tongues together. With my hands I pulled him over into my arms. This was not a bro hug any more. It was a full-on naked embrace. My chest touched his, my belly touched his. My still erect dick touched his dick that was oozing precum. I kissed him and inhaled his scent as much as I could. I was in heaven. I don't know how, but my wildest fantasies have come true. In Club Dick. The sex club. At 11:30 PM on a cold December night. With vintage porn in the background in the back of a glory hole stall.

He then pulled away. Not sure what was he planning on doing. But he pulled away. He gave me another frozen stare straight into my eyes. He then ran in the opposite direction. What? What just happened? Was I supposed to follow him? Is this a game of run and catch? Did he want me to follow him to one of the rooms? What was his master plan? Where was he going? After 30 seconds, once I realized he did actually run to the other direction, I ran behind him. I ran all over, but couldn't find him. I ran to the exit area and was able to catch a glimpse of leaving the club fully clothed. I was still naked and could not chase him into the cold streets of Manhattan in December.

By the time I got my clothes and dressed and left the place, the streets were empty. He wasn't there. I was hoping he was just waiting for me on the other side. But nope. He was nowhere to be seen. My guess is that he got into a taxi and ran away as far as he could. Or was he hiding some place? Or did I just imagine whole thing up?

I also caught a taxi and went home. I tried to recreate the events of the whole day. I guess he did really see the printed email about tonight's party at Club Dick. But he was such an innocent man, how did he know what it was? Did he come there thinking I might be coming? Or he came here to experiment and ran into me by pure horrible mistake? Wait, wasn't he supposed to be on a flight already?

Did he know it was my dick he was sucking off or was he just as flabbergasted as I was? Was this whole thing deliberate on his end? I would never know. I realized we never even exchanged phone numbers. We were just content being each other's shuttle ride mates and occasional lunch mates, but never extended our friendship outside of the campus. And now our very first interaction is that he blew me, knowingly or unknowingly, at a glory hole in Club Dick. Was this real, or was I just fantasizing all the rest of it. Was I really even sure it was him? Or was my mind playing tricks on me?

I went back to my apartment. Got into bed. But sleep was the farthest thing from my mind. My heart was still racing. I wished I could call or text him, but I didn't have him number. We won't be back on campus for another month. How will I behave when I see him after this long break? Are we going to pretend nothing happened? Is he going to avoid me? Was this all a big mistake?

2 o'clock in the morning. I was still laying wide awake on my back, looking at the ceiling. I had lit my peach spice candle back. Million thoughts were going through my mind. Some very satisfying, some horribly frightening. My stomach was in knots. But my dick was still very satisfied from what happened.

There was a knock on the door. What? 2 o'clock in the morning? I wasn't making any noise to disturb the neighbors. The other time this happened there was a leak in my bathroom that had got into the neighbor's bathroom below. We had to call the super and the plumber in the middle of night to fix it. What could it be this time? And on a night like the one I just had.

I went to the door and peaked through the eyehole. It was Michael! Waiting patiently outside the door? How did he get into the building? How did he even know where I lived? How does he just show up here out of the blue when he left me in such a rush at the sex club? Do I let him in? Of course, I have to let him in.

I opened the door. He was wearing full winter clothes, I was in pajama bottoms with no underwear. He stood there looking me over, and I looked back. I didn't say anything. He didn't say anything either. He didn't motion to come in. I didn't motion for him to come in. We just stood there, with the door open and the heat escaping. His eyes were glued to mine just the same way we were at the club after he finished me off.

Finally I motioned for him to come in. He walked in very shyly, glancing at my living room. He saw where the bedroom was and continued in that direction without necessarily being invited. He just walked in.

I followed him to the bedroom. I didn't know what he was up to. He took off his jacket and threw in on the floor. He took off his shoes, his socks. He took off his jeans and his sweatshirt. He was now in his boxer shorts. He saw the matching top to my pajamas still on the dresser. Instinctively, he picked it up, brought it to his nose to get a good whiff, and then put it on. He then helped himself into my bed without being invited. Once again, I just followed him.

Once we were both there, him in my pajama tops and boxers and me with the matching pajama bottoms, he turned around and faced the other way. He backed into me like a little spoon and was now fully within my embrace. With his top hand he pulled back and grabbed my arm. He positioned my arm around his midriff and put his own arm on top of mine, forcing me to hug him like so. By now my face was buried in the back of his neck and shoulder. Musk, spice, birch, and peach. I had unlimited access to his mesmerizing scent now. I could smell it at close range all I wanted. And it was real. And it was in my bed, not some sex club. And it was the real Michael, not some figment of my imagination.

He whispered "Good night" and closed his eyes. Still in my embrace as the little spoon. Within seconds I felt his body making those cute little jolts that babies make when they fall asleep. He was sleeping. In my arms. He had given himself to me. Not in a vulgar sexual way. But in the sweetest adoring and romantic way. I closed my eyes. My smile went from one ear to the other. I was content. I didn't need anything more than this tonight. I didn't need answers. I didn't need an explanation. I didn't need a confession. Anything I ever needed was right there in my bed, in my arms. I too fell asleep.

What a day. What a night. What an adventure. I just couldn't believe everything that happened did really happen. Did it? Did I really get up and go to a sex club tonight? Did I just randomly get blown by the object of my affection there? Did he just randomly show up at my door at 2 in the morning? Is any of it real? Or is it just a fantasy? Just the best and the most real masturbation fantasy a guy could dream up in his head? For now, I was not going to argue with myself. I was going to enjoy the moment as long as it lasts. Don't make the fantasy go away.

I felt the light of the morning sun in my eyes. It's December, so the sun doesn't rise too early and it's not too bright. My eyes were still closed. I felt a scent of peach and spice in my nose. Did I leave the candle on all night as I fell asleep? Was I that reckless? Still with my eyes closed, I was reminded of my wild fantasy last night. I had dreamed that Michael gave me a blow job in a sex club. Wow, what a mind trip! Slowly my arms and legs came back to feeling. My right arm was laying over a chest, not my chest. I felt a heartbeat with and a breathing rate that were different than my own. Still with my eyes closed, I realized there is someone in my bed. I gently opened my eyes, and he was there. Yes, it was him. The scent I felt in my nose was not the candle; it was the real person. Not moving, I took a few deep breaths as my chin was still resting on the back side of his right shoulder. How magnificent it was to have unlimited access to him and his scent at my leisure. I could easily spend all morning just breathing him and his scent in. Not sure if I was getting lightheaded from the scent or from hyperventilating with those deep breaths. But I was definitively in a moment.

Just then I felt a few twitches. Did I wake him up breathing so heavy behind his back? He leaned his upper shoulder back toward me and turned his head to me. He looked me in the eyes. He had morning hair, morning breath, and his eyes were still puffy. The least attractive moment, but it was pure bliss. When you adore someone so much you love them even more when they are not tidied up and polished.

He didn't say anything. I didn't say anything either. I just looked straight into his eyes, just the same we had a stare match already a couple of times. My morning wood was in full glory, and my crotch was already pressed to his ass from spooning all night. I brought my right hand down, the one that had hugged him with all night, down to his crotch. His morning wood was trying to peak out through his boxers. I started massaging his manhood through the fabric. At first he kept looking straight into my eyes as he was getting attention. Slowly he started enjoying it more and his eyes would intermittently close in ecstasy. Eventually he forced himself all the way back with his back on the mattress and his front all the way up. I was still massaging his dick through the fabric. Just then his dick popped out through the peehole of the boxers. I had his flesh in my hands. Skin on skin. I was able to stroke his shaft up and down. Up and down. Up and down. I had him in my bed and he was my toy to play with. He was at my will. And for now I was going to massage him.

After a few minutes of this, I needed more. I got up from where I was and I straddled his legs. I pulled the boxers by the waist and off they came. I took the pajama tops off too. Here he was. Naked again. Except this time in the privacy of my own home and not in a sex club. I was able to enjoy the full glory of his naked body privately. I was allowed, actually invited, to look an adore all I wanted. And I made sure I did just that. I absorbed every inch of his body into my eyes. I registered every single curve and muscle. Even that cute little beauty mark on the right upper lip, the one that gave him away last night at the glory hole.

I put both hands on this calves and pulled them up to his thighs. I then pulled my hands further up, over his pelvis and over his belly. I rubbed my hands further up to his chest. Then to his neck, until each hand was holding his head and cupping one ear. Instead of pulling him to me, I used the leverage to pull myself to him. I descended directly on top of him. Pelvis to pelvis, chest to chest, lip to lip. Oh, those luscious lips. Our lips stuck together like a lock and key. It was wild passionate kissing for as long as my lips could take it.

But I needed more. I needed to kiss every inch. I started kissing the left side of his face, to the left neck, to the left earlobe. I nibbled on it as a baby nibbles on a nipple. Satisfied, I went down the neck to his shoulder again. This is where his scent is the strongest. Musk, spice, birch, and peach. I kissed his scent, if that is even possible. I went down to his chest, kissing all along the way. His left nipple. I stopped here for a while. Until it was all erect and maybe even sore a bit. I flew to the right nipple. The same adoring treatment. Then I continued kissing down the chest to his belly. I knew where I was heading, but I was taking my time. No rush. Cherish the moment. I didn't know if this is my one and only shot at him, or if this was going to last forever. Take your time, enjoy the moment. Just as serendipitously as he had shown up at my doorstep, he could disappear into the thin air and never be seen again. So, yes Sean, take your time.

I circled kisses around his bellybutton and his tight abs. More scent of peach. I pulled my kissing lips further south, toward his pubes. By now his erect dick and his precum were bumping on my chin. I didn't want to waste any of that precious juice. So I picked up his dick with my one hand, looked up to his face as he looked back at me, and took his dick in my mouth. Oh, his sweet dick and my mouth finally met. And right away a gush of precum to give me more flavor. I swallowed all I could. His flesh in my mouth and his juice down my throat. I knew very well what to do with a dick. I rhythmically went up and down on him, as I held the base of his dick in my hand. I used my hand to squeeze as much of him into my mouth.

I have, and have not done this before. I've had dick in mouth before. Many, many, many times. More than I'd like to admit. And I've had Michael's dick in my mouth as well. In my fantasies. In my dreams. While I was jerking off late at night. And even imagining him being there while I was giving head to a different first and last date. But this right here, this very moment, was finally the real thing. It was HIS dick, in MY mouth, in real time. And it was ever so much more satisfying than all my dreams combined. It was so much better than I had even imagined. A hunk of Midwestern man meat, my marriage material guy of my dreams, in my mouth. Enjoy this Sean, this might be the last time. You still don't know how you both ended up here. It might not happen again.

After a long time of worshipping his shaft, I decided I needed some balls in my mouth too. I flipped up his oh-so erect and precum oozing dick and went for the balls. Those sweet balls. Just then I noticed that he had shaven all the hair off his scrotum. All of it. And in retrospect, his pubes were very tidy too. His balls were as soft as a baby's ass. With such ease they flipped into my mouth one by one. My tongue licked every last bit of his ballsack musk. I could use his balls as a pillow forever. Just put my head in them and drown. I loved having his balls in my mouth. Knowing they were full of his cum that might erupt at any minute. But I was not ready for either one of us to cum. Not yet. I was enjoying myself too much for it to end.

I went even more south. To his taint. Also, completely hairless. Nothing. As clean as you can get it to be. Just waiting for my tongue to lick every surface. I couldn't hold myself back any more. I smelled his crack just below and I had to have him. I needed his ass on my face. I put my arms under his thighs and flipped his legs straight up in the air. His asshole was right there in my face. A perfectly shaven and formed rosebud. Clean as a whistle. And more scent of musk. More manly pheromones. And all there for me.

I didn't hesitate. I dove right in. So sweet. My tongue went right for the center of the hole. No foreplay here. Just the money shot. He felt tight. I circled around the sphincter as my tongue tried to negotiate its way in. He was really tight. Not sure if he was nervous or he was a virgin. But that was one tight asshole. But yet so sweet. I could eat this three meals a day. And I had every intention of doing that. I never planned to get off of his ass.

Moans came from the top of the bed. I could see his body relaxing, letting go of all muscle tones. The only exertion was his moans, which were getting steadily louder. He was loving how I was worshipping his hole down below. He started wiggling ever so softly with my tongue exploring him. I wasn't sure if he was being ticklish, or just in ecstasy. But as long as he was enjoying it, I was going to continue.

Then the moans got louder. I didn't know if I should finish him off this way as he was so obviously enjoying this more than anything else, or if I should take the lead to change positions a bit. I got my cue from him when a couple of minutes later he moaned: "Fuck me." And that I shall. I will gladly, ecstatically, enthusiastically, put my dick in him in the most sexually frustrated way I knew how. Yes, I would be fucking him next. At his request. With him showing up in my apartment in the middle of night.

The bottle of lube was just within reach. I already had sensed his asshole was way too tight and I would have to open him up first before he could take my dick. I put a healthy portion of the lube on my one finger and went for his hole. Slowly I tickled all around the hole with wet lube. Those circles became smaller until the very tip of finger was lodged right outside his still-tight sphincter. I tried to push in gently. He was tight. I knew there was a fine balance of taking it slowly here vs trying to assert that finger in. I took my time. I wiggled my finger. I got a little bit deeper. I wiggled more, and then some more. My finger was ever so slowly going in, and it needed all the lube it could take. Eventually my finger was in. First up to the first knuckle, and I paused. Slowly I pushed in more. Second knuckle. Took some more time. I allowed him to dilate. Eventually the whole finger was in. I was in.

I didn't make any sudden moves. Last night my dick was in his mouth. And now my finger was in his ass. It was a matter of time before my dick would be in his ass. Making the cycle complete. But he was tight. Physically tight, for sure. But maybe also emotionally tight. Judging by how tight he was, I still didn't know if he is an ass virgin or just didn't have as much experience as some of the guys I hang out with. I didn't want to risk anything. I started swirling my finger left to right and back again. Then I slid the finger ever so slightly in and out. Left, right, in, out. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.

I looked alternatively into his eyes and back at my finger in his ass as I did this for a few minutes. One of those times I looked up, he nodded yes to me. Without having been asked any question in particular. That was my sign he was ready for me. Or at least he thought he was. Sean, this was your moment.

I finally took off my pajama bottoms. There was a puddle of precum in the front from all the fluid I've been oozing for the past half hour. It was soaking wet. I lubed my cock very generously. Much more than I usually do. I knew he'd be tight.

I pulled up my pelvis next his ass, as he held his legs up for me. The tip of my cock touched his hole. It took a great deal of restraint for me not to cum right then and there. I felt an electric jolt just from that. Luckily, I had done a decent job of dilating him with my finger, and my cock did not meet as much resistance getting in. Still, it was a tight fit how his sphincter hugged my cock. I felt the pressure around my shaft. And I loved it. I took my time getting in all the way. First the tip, then the shaft. Slowly, very slowly, I put in the rest till by balls banged on the backside of his ass. And we're in.

THIS is the moment I've been waiting for. This morning on a cold Saturday in December. Me, him, with my dick in his ass. He walked into my life 3 months ago and I've been obsessing with him ever since. In my mind I came up with a million different scenarios of how I will own his body. But the real thing is so much better than my fantasies.

It was so much better now not only because it was real. But because there was sexual tension and desire. In all my fantasies I ever dreamed of it doing it with him. It was always physical. The tension happened, at least from my end, every time he sat next to in the shuttle. But the tension and the sex never mixed. But now, at this moment of realness with my dick finally in his ass, the tension and the physicality finally merged. I wasn't just fucking him. But I was making erotic love with him. I loved this right here.

Slowly I picked up the pace of my pounding. I knew I had to go slow and gentle with his possibly virgin ass. But my dick was telling me otherwise. My dick was telling me to pound it as hard as I could. My dick needed to feel every deep crevice of the inside of his ass. My dick was telling me to go faster, go deeper, go rougher. And the dick usually wins in situations like this. With both hands I grabbed both his ankles for leverage. My rhythm had really picked up and the Indiana boy was taking it like a champ. His face looking at me was full of desire, not pain. He had been waiting for this as long as I had been. He wanted me as much as I wanted him. His desire for me could even eclipse my desire for him.

I looked down and his dick was rock hard. It was bouncing up and down and sideways with every motion of my dick pounding his ass. And a string of precum kept flowing out. Normally guys I fuck like to grab their dicks and jerk off as I pound them like this. But Michael was more than content being stimulated without touching himself.

Just then I could feel his ankles and calves in my hand go into a spasm. The wave traveled all the way up and his tight belly tensed. And just like that, without even touching himself once, gobs of his cum started squirting all over his chest, his neck, and the pillow next to him. As I didn't stop pounding him, the cum went in every direction possible with his pelvis up in the air. That's all the visual and sexual stimulation that I needed. I, too, came hard. My cum filled his bowels. Last night he took it all in his throat and licked any spills with his tongue. This morning he took it all up his virgin ass. I had marked him as mine from both ends.

Once I finally finished with the last squirt, I had no more energy left in me. I was lightheaded. I let go or his ankles, pulled out my still-hard dick, and just collapsed on top of him. My face fell on his left shoulder, next to his left ear. Musk, spice, birch, and peach. And it's all mine. I didn't care that there was a puddle of hot cum between us that never got wiped. I was loving the warmth. I was in heaven.

I was exhausted, both physically and mentally. I knew it was daylight, but I never bothered looking what time of day it was. That was not a priority. I closed my eyes and soaked in this moment. Almost immediately he brought both of his arms around my back and gave me the tightest hug possible without choking me. I reciprocated and kneaded my arms behind his neck to make the embrace mutual. We were in a deep bear hug. I just stayed like this. I had nowhere to go but here. I was happy here.

A few minutes into this, and I felt those cute little jolts that told me Michael was falling asleep in my arms again. What a bliss! I kept my eyes closed and allowed myself to relax. I don't know if it took me a minute or an hour, but I also fell asleep in his arms. I could have slept 5 minutes or all morning; I didn't have any concept of time. All I know is that when I woke up and finally looked at the clock next to my night stand, it said 12:10 PM.

Michael must have sensed my movement, as he woke up too. His morning breath stank, but I couldn't care less. I gave him quite a few kisses on the lips and in his mouth. Even his stinky morning breath was pure bliss.

Somehow we made it from the bed to the shower. I showered with him. Together. In my little New York City apartment shower. We lathered and cleaned ourselves. I was still too shy to devour him again right there, so it was mostly business even though we had boners that wouldn't go away. We both let it be for now.

We toweled off. As we did that, I told him that I was starving, and if he cared to join me for weekend brunch. This was actually the very first time that either one us suggested an after-work activity together. He replied that he is starving as well. I told him about my favorite brunch place a couple of blocks away, and he told me had heard of it and had always to go there. I guess that could count as our first date.

Naturally, I went to my closet and picked out fresh weekend clothes to wear. I noticed that he was sifting through whatever clothes he had come here with, and he was hesitating. Only then I noticed he had worn a very old pair of jean and sweatshirt, and his boxer underwear had seen better days. That's what you wear to Club Dick if you have to check your clothes at the door. I chuckled looking at him. He was embarrassed coming out with me in that awful outfit. I went over and grabbed his hand as he was still naked. I told him that we are almost the same size and that he can borrow whatever he wants to go out. First, the underwear situation. I don't do boxers. I opened my underwear drawer. It was all very revealing briefs. I picked out the pinkest gayest pair of speedo underwear I had and I handed it to him. He laughed. But he was a good sport. He put it on. Damn, he looked fine in those. He looked better in them than I ever did. Then I picked him some other weekend attire in my closet. We were both wearing my clothes getting ready to go out. It was all my clothes, so we did look a bit matchy-matchy, but I loved it. We left the apartment and headed out.

Halfway down the first block, he instinctively reached out and grabbed my hand. I have walked hand in hand with another man plenty of times in my neighborhood, it was not a big deal for me at all. But I didn't know what possessed him to show me this kind of soft affection. Not that I minded it. In fact I loved it. But we were not dating. He was a married man.

The whole rest of brunch, as we were sitting at the table, he only let go of my hand when we had to eat something. Even my coffee I had to drink with my non-dominant hand. During the meal, we chitchatted again about nonsense. Little things. The university. Our gripes about the pay and tenure. Nothing at all about what had happened in the past 24 hours since we shared a lunch table in the faculty cafeteria. All I knew is that he would not let go of my hand. Just like a clingy puppy. And I was not about to complain.

After brunch, we went back to my apartment. I had no doubt in my mind that before the day was over we would be making love 5 more times. I had already planned on it. I was thirsty for him, and for now he was giving his 100% self to me. But I needed clarification. I needed to know how did all of this transpire. I would tell him about my fantasies, and he would tell me how he showed up at my doorstep last night.

Once we sat down in the living room, I asked him in the softest tones if he could tell me what was going on. I guess he also knew he was due for some clarification. He sighed very deeply, caught his breath, turned his whole body to me, and grabbed both my hands with both his hands. The he started his story, as he opened his heart up to me.

The story goes back to when he was a young teen in conservative Indiana. Back then, there were no role models for gay people in his life. He knew he felt attraction to the rest of the football players in his team, but he didn't have the right tools to put it into context. He thought something was wrong with. Or that all other boys felt the same way, but were conditioned not to act on these feeling. Everybody around him was dating someone of the opposite sex. In came Cindy into his life. A kind and gentle soul. Someone who fell in love with Michael (how could anybody not fall in love with him). In time Michael developed feeling for her too, though there were so much more emotional rather than physical. And since premarital sex was not common in his town, he was more than glad to have a plutonic relationship with Cindy. A relationship that kept everyone happy, except for Michael.

They became high school sweethearts. Michael knew he wanted to go to college in a bigger town. That's when he decided it was going to be Chicago, no matter which college. He applied to every college there. Before he could say anything, Cindy had jumped on the bandwagon and she was coming with. They went to college together. He really loved her as a person, just not as much in a physical sense. Yes, they did eventually have premarital sex in college. Needless to say, she enjoyed it much more than he did. She demanded more, and he was thinking he was lucky his girlfriend wanted to ravage his body any chance she got.

It wasn't until grad school that he decided he needed to address his same sex attractions. He couldn't just walk into a local gay bar. He just couldn't. He found various cruisy spots on campus. Several times he had to go away on conference or school mission, he misbehaved. All on the down low. Like most Midwesterners, if you have been dating your high school sweetheart already for a few years, you get married in your mid 20's. Which is what he did.

After marriage, come kids. But he kept finding excuses to delay it. He loved kids. But the idea of having kids with Cindy and being forever tied to her just did not sit well with him. First it was her education and her nursing school that did not allow enough time. Then it was his grad school. Then came some other excuses.

Meantime, Chicago had become too familiar with Michael. He wanted a fresh start. He looked for jobs in New York. He wanted to move away from Chicago, maybe even from Cindy. He was hoping that his declaration that he got the job so far away from home without consulting her would make Cindy be the one to break things off. Instead she tagged along to New York. And as long as she was around, he couldn't break free. He wanted to break free. But he just couldn't bring himself to break her heart in the process. He was stuck. Damned if you do, damned if you don't.

But then, a week into the new semester, he took the shuttle to the Bronx campus to teach his undergraduate class. All kinds of people on the shuttle. He did in fact notice me that first day and he sat one row behind and across me. He picked me out as gay immediately; I guess I'm more `obvious' that I'd like to admit. He sat in that particular spot so he could steal glances at me when I did not pay attention. When we boarded off the bus that first time, he was right behind me. He had admired my behind as we got off. He knew nothing about me, but he knew he wanted to get to know me better. Later that afternoon, it was me who sat one row behind and diagonally across from him. I thought I was so clever to grab a seat that allowed me to steal glances at him, but Michael had invented that trick already a few hours earlier. He actually was happy that I sat there. He was hoping his position relative to me would make me glance in his way and notice him. And boy did that trick work.

He knew right away that I was the kind of person he came to New York to meet. Academic, well connected, successful, with a vast gay friends network. Yes, he thought I was very attractive too, but he wanted me for the whole package, not just my body. Turns out he was in on that awkward dance we had done the first few time on the shuttle. He wanted me to notice him without being too obvious. He figured I must be on faculty in the Law School. Not knowing my name, he went online to the school directory and scanned the photos one by one until he found me. He then googled me and searched every social media. My open Facebook account taught him a lot about me and the wild summer I had in Fire Island. He just wished he was at the same point in his life to enjoy all that freedom to be himself.

Next came the deliberate act of biting the bullet and sitting next to me on that fateful day. His heart was racing. He was so nervous that he would sweat right through his shirt. Instead, he was relieved that I was reading my law journal. Gave him a chance to interact with me without having to make small conversation. And then, that pothole. That awesome pothole that must have been planted there by the heavens. That is when my body flew onto him. He had felt a sudden jolt. At first he thought it was a jolt from the pothole, but it was a jolt for finally touching me, even if inadvertently. The ice was broken, and we had made conversation. He was on cloud 9 that day. He had never dated anyone except Cindy, so he has never known how to start up a conversation with someone he was interested in. All these other times it had been nameless sex in cruisy spots. But this time it was high school romance all over again.

After that first ride together, he thought he should keep it a bit professional. He didn't want to come off too pushy. He had no idea if I had any interest or not. He was so glad when after a couple of more rides I took the initiative to sit next to him. He had told himself that we are now familiar enough that he will find a way of sitting next to me on the shuttle any chance he got.

He had tried to sit close enough to me so our shoulders would occasionally rub. He did not have a particularly wide stance, but he tried to sit with his legs wide open on the shuttle so perhaps our knees would rub. He kept praying that we would run over that pothole one more time and he would fake throwing himself on me this time. None of that happened. Finally he padded me good bye one time. He promised himself he would never wash that hand again. He just didn't get any vibes from me that that single moment was anywhere as special to me as it was to him.

He remembers that day when he mentioned his wife Cindy to me. He assumed I already knew he was married, with him wearing a wedding ring oh so obviously. To this date he was not sure why he made a point of mentioning it, but he felt that he needed to reveal more of himself to me. I didn't tell him I almost vomited from nausea when I realized he was married to a woman. I never told him how much stamina it took for me to recompose myself.

He was glad we had also found a corner of the faculty cafeteria to share from time to time. He was hoping that with all his affinity for me, I would initiate us going out for drinks after work, or dinner. He could never bring himself to be the one to start it. He had not dated someone new since age 16. The whole dating rituals was lost on him. Especially when it involved a guy. Especially since I knew he was married. He figured I was not interested enough to ever do anything together after work. He had me figured so wrong. Alas for all this lost time and crossed signals.

I had told him my trip to Puerta Vallarta. He had told me about the trip back home to Indiana. He so wished that the world was a different place and that I would take him with me. But he had plans to go back to see family. In fact, his flight home was supposed to be yesterday evening. Obviously, he never went. He was sitting there across the sofa, holding my hands and spilling his heart out.

He thought that the Thursday shuttle ride would be the last time we see each other for the next month. We had said some non-official good byes, as our encounters were never planned. He had started missing me as soon as we parted ways after the ride back home. He had taught his Friday morning class and was supposed to wrap things up and meet Cindy at home no later than 4 to go to the airport. He took a chance to come to the faculty cafeteria to see if perchance I was there. He gave it a 50-50 shot. Just one more casual and superficial conversation with me before the campus was closed for a month and we never had any plans to meet even after his flight back. He was absolutely delighted to find me in our usual table. He came over and sat down as he always had every time we were there at the same time. We both had stacks of papers. He looked at my stack and couldn't believe what he saw. He saw my printed email from Club Dick.

He knew that place pretty well. He had been there enough times to know what happens in a place like that. I guess he was the straight married types that hide their wedding rings before they come in. He was just shocked that I might find interest in a place like that. What with such great gay network, he thought I could have any guy I wanted whenever I wanted. He never could see me in a seedy place like that. Little did he know.

He had gone home after lunch all in turmoil. He was still in disbelief that there was even a remote chance I might go to the club that night. But he couldn't miss it. Even the remote chance of running into me there intrigued him. He was rock hard just thinking about it. Then reality hit. He told Cindy he was not going back to Indiana. Not tonight, and not tomorrow night. In fact he wasn't sure if ever. He was staying here in New York, the place he had fallen in love with. Cindy just couldn't understand what had gotten into him. So he came clean. He told her everything. About his same sex attractions and about how he finally has to be true to himself. He apologized to her for lying to her all these years, but he has been telling an even bigger lie to himself all these years. Cindy was less shocked that he thought she would be. Perhaps she had figured it out already and was waiting for his moment of confession. He told her that it is best if she takes the flight back home so they have some distance to sort things out for now. Sorry for ruining her Christmas.

Michael showed up at Club Dick at 10 o'clock sharp. He didn't know if I in fact I was going to go, but he didn't want to take any chances to miss seeing me there. He did the clothes check and went to hide in a dark place that still had a good view of the entrance. One by one as the next guy entered the club, he had a palpitation thinking it could be me. Nope, not that guy. Not the other guy. After about like 80 guys, I did in fact come to the club. Michael was overjoyed. But that was pretty much it. He had figured out I might come, he just didn't know how things would go down. He didn't know if he should just come tap me on the shoulder, pretend to run into me `by mistake', or just follow me around. He took the last option. The option of coming to declare himself was just too much, even though that was the whole purpose of him being there.

Michael followed me around a couple of dark hallways. Finally I had settled on the wall of glory holes. Without any hesitation, I had approached the only available glory hole with a mouth waiting on the other side. That was his shot. He found the spot on the other side of barrier, and had to practically wrestle my dick away from the grampa who was blowing me. He was hoping that I either didn't notice the `change of guard' or that I didn't mind. In fact, I didn't mind and was actually flattered by all the attention.

Michael admittedly was not the most experienced at blow jobs, but he did the best he could. He was just so happy when I blew my load in his mouth. He had been waiting for this for months. We went from casual shuttle bus mates to him secretly blowing me in the glory hole at a sex club. What a turn of events.

He wasn't sure what would happen next. He had not planned any of this. He was and wasn't surprised when I peeked around the barrier only to find out it was him. He was satisfied with what he had done, but he saw I was shocked. For a second he thought maybe he had crossed a line. Maybe he had ruined a beautiful friendship with momentary lust for my cock. That cock and the load that came out of it was so great. But the relationship he had hoped to build with me was even more great, if given the right chance.

He told me that when he got up to face me, he didn't know what to do. After few minutes of staring, he felt sticky cum still on the corner of one lip. He just wanted to wipe it clean, so he had taken his tongue out to lick it. Apparently that was a sign for me to finally go over and hug him. He was relieved I wasn't mad. But then he got angry at himself. How could he had allowed himself to take such liberty with our friendship. What happened was the stuff of porn stories, not how people behave in real life. What if I had gotten mad and snapped at him? What I if I had felt betrayed? He went from cherishing the moment to hating himself within a few seconds. Shame took over. He had to run. He needed fresh air. He needed to remove himself from this situation. He ran, got his clothes on, and ran out. He took a taxi home.

He got to his empty apartment and just sat in the dark looking at the walls. He could have ruined everything. He was so mad at himself for doing something like this. But the more he thought about it, the more he realized that I did not act mad at all. I seemed shocked, perhaps intrigued, most definitely not mad. Fuck, why did he run out like a mad man?

What if in fact I, too, was interested? He never gave me the proper time to respond. He had just run out. And, double fuck! He didn't have my number, address, or even email. He then thought about going back to the online faculty directory, the in-house version, to find my info. Well, that was easy. Name, address, mobile number, academic email address, it was all there. Now what, should he call? Call now or tomorrow? Text perhaps? Saying he was sorry? Over text???

Somehow the devil got into him one more time and he decided to show up at my apartment. What happened a few hours earlier is not something that is dealt with over modern communication. It needed to be addressed in person. So he got into another cab, and came over unannounced. Somehow the front door was open and he helped himself up to my door. He knocked, not having planned anything particular to say or do. He thought he would just show up and see how it develops organically. No pre-meditated speeches.

It seemed I was not sleeping yet either. He guessed that much. He was relieved to see I opened the door promptly. He was also relieved I didn't seem mad at him. When I finally gestured for him to come, he knew he is entering a friendly zone. He still does not know what got into him, but as he entered the apartment he saw where the bedroom was and continued in. He had seen me in my pajama bottom and then saw the matching pajama top, unused, on the dresser. He just then got the idea that rather than talk about things right then and there, let's just call it a night. Except, let's make it our night. Let's spend the night in each other's arms. He got into the pajama tops and boxers and crawled into the bed. I followed him there. He wanted me to hold him rather than talk to him. He wasn't ready to give answers. He just wanted his bruised soul to get a hug, both physically and mentally. He spooned into me, knowing that this way he would have my entire body covering him without facing me. That was his comfort zone at that point. He made sure I caress him and hold him with my free arm.

Finally, he could rest his body and his mind. He was exhausted. He just fell asleep, feeling my breath on his shoulders. All these years of hooking up with men in cruisy spots, he never experienced a proper post-sex hug. He never knew the warmth and affection of another man. He was in heaven. He was hoping I would extend him the courtesy and let him enjoy the moment.

What happened in the morning as we had woken up was already well known to both of us. Or at least I thought it was to me. I thought we had passionate sex. But it was so much more to him. All his life he had only dated one person, his wife Cindy. When he started exploring men, it had always been on the down low. Cruisy spots on the campus, in sex clubs, etc. And even if occasionally he ended up in some guy's apartment, it was still with someone he had just met under less than desirable circumstances. It was always sex, never love or passion. This past morning it was the first time he had sex with a man, or even a woman for that matter, whom he truly loved with all his heart. He had never felt such bliss before. He never had sex, passion, and love all at the same time.

It was a lot for me to take in. Thinking he was desiring me so intensely all this time that I had desired him back. Thinking our souls were meant to be with each other only to be ever so slightly separated by time and circumstance. It was so fascinating to hear how the story unfolded from the other person's point of view. How we each missed the other person's hints just because each one of us was sunken in our own cloud of doubts and trepidations.

I couldn't hold back. I opened up to him too. I told him how I had fallen in love that very first day as boarded the shuttle bus. I told him about all the missed signals. I told him how of all the men I had met in my life, I never ever felt such a connection to anyone. And it was all held back. I told him how I had fallen in love with his scent, and it was in fact his scent in that dingy and dirty sex club that gave him away. I told him I am so glad to he finally took the initiative to make a move, even though it was a dirty move at Club Dick. I told him we can never tell anyone our real first time was at a sex club. I told him every single little secret of adoration and infatuation I had been holding back for three months. He was the giddy young teen still stuck in high school dating scene, and I had become the same giddy teen enamored by him all this time.

As predicted, we spent the rest of the day, the weekend, the week, the holidays, and the rest of the winter break making passionate love, going out to eat, see a movie, see a show, go to a museum, only to come back home and make mad passionate love all over again. I spent every single moment of every single day with him beside me. Anytime I wanted, I walked over to took a whiff of his scent that drove me crazy. Musk, spice, birch, and peach. Sometimes that was followed by a simple kiss as we watched a movie on TV. Sometimes it would end up in mad passionate lovemaking as the rest of the movie would continue to play with nobody watching it. He was never more than two inches away from me. And so many times I was six inches inside him.

By the third week of January, it was time to go back to normal life. School was about to restart. More importantly Michael had to sort things out with Cindy. As he had predicted, she decided to stay in Indiana and not come back. She didn't want much. Just her personal belongings and her fair share of community property. Michael and I made numerous trips to his apartment to help pack her stuff and ship them to her. We then packed the rest of the stuff, his stuff, and brought them to my apartment. Yes, we moved in together. Not because we talked about him moving in. It was just understood that he would. Like all those times we would find a seat next to each other on the shuttle bus.

Monday. First day of classes, and we woke up in the same bed. I made him coffee, he made me my favorite bagel. We each picked up our briefcases, and walked hand in hand to school. When we arrived, a quick kiss on the lips and we each went to our individual departments. Tuesday morning, same routine. Tuesday afternoon, our first shuttle ride as a couple. We leaned into each other, our shoulders touching. Our knees touching. And Michael holding my right hand firmly in his left hand, my fingers intertwined with his fingers for the whole ride. Michael's head rested on my shoulder the whole ride. On the ride back, he cozied onto my shoulder again, rested his head, and fell asleep on my shoulder judging by those cute little jerky movements he makes every time he falls asleep. The drool on my shoulder was ample evidence that he was in fact in a peaceful place and was able to fall asleep with me right next to him.

He's a keeper. I told you he was husband material. I plan to propose to him as soon as his divorce is finalized and the dust has settled, unless he proposes to me first. Michael is going to be my husband. And I will have unlimited access not only to his scent, but to his body and his heart. I waited all these years to find my soul mate, and it was very much worth it.

T H E E N D

The inspiration for this story started probably around 8 years ago. At that time, I used to take the shuttle between my company's two campuses on a regular basis. All the etiquette of who sits where and leaving empty seats next to people is exactly as described. And then one cold day, Michael walked in. His name might or might not actually be Michael. He looked like a solid corn-fed Midwestern guy. Dressed nicely enough to be fashionable, without being too fashion forward. Definitely the metrosexual type. Broad shoulders that tapered to a size 30 waist. Over the course of the next few months, we did eventually exchange a few sentences, and a few times we ended up sitting next to each other on the ride. But, we never became fast friends like the story here. And obviously nothing more ever happened. And then one day, a few years later on, he was no longer there. I imagine that he moved to a different company, or his job description no longer needed him to be on the shuttle on a regular basis. I haven't seen him since.

It took me a while to put the pieces of the story together so I could write it down. The shuttle rides were definitely the main part of the story. But somehow I had to come up with a fantasy that would have a happy ending. By the time I actually started writing, I had 50% of the story figured out from Sean`s perspective. The other 50% wrote itself as I went along. What surprised me the most, is the second half of the story with Michael's confession. I most definitely had not thought that part through at all when I wrote the first part of the story. I thought Michael was going to have a one paragraph confession just to tidy things up. Instead, somehow I was able to retrace the entire three months of their courtship from Michael's point of view. At the end, there were missed signals from both sides, which makes the story ever so much special. It had initially escaped my mind that Michael too would have had feelings all along.

If you feel inspired, feel free to drop me a line at DrThroat@aol.com Feedback of any kind is always appreciated.

I hope you had a good amount of erotic satisfaction as you read the story. For some of my other stories, follow the links below:

http://m.nifty.org/nifty/gay/adult-friends/will-you-help-me-fulfill-my-fantasy/1

https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/encounters/sperm-sample

http://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/adult-friends/on-assignment

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