Chapter Three Over My Head
Christmas had passed. I had finished my thesis and it had been accepted. I now had my degree, but now what? With two degrees in political science, I could either go into law or get some kind of cushy job with the government. Both options did not appeal to me. As a matter of fact, they turned my stomach. I could go on and get my Ph.D. and go into teaching . . . the lesser of the evils.
Got a call from my thesis advisor.
"Jim, I've heard of a job. Something you might like."
"Great! What is it?"
As it turned out I'd be a political analyst for an international firm based in Chicago.
"It's not CIA, is it?"
Laughing, he said, "No it's quite legitimate."
He knew my likes and dislikes. I was interviewed and was offered the position, accepted it and moved to Chicago.
My life need a change. As big as Columbus was, it still held too many memories that widened the void of Khalid's leaving. The attachment that had developed did not have the depth and breadth that years of being together might have had, but I was aware of the emptiness that his departure left in me. With Khalid, I realized that I was the type of sexual being that thrived, maybe even needed someone. At Weston, my sexual needs were met by the anonymous glory hole. Besides, The friendship that had developed between Bob and I had filled amply that other part of being.
I wasn't too familiar with Chicago and one evening, a month after I moved there, I was driving home and I stopped for a drink at a corner bar on Halstead, The Forge. The weather turned unseasonably mild as it does from time to time in the winter. I left my jacket in the car and walked in. It was dusk and the bar wasn't too full. I ordered a beer and glanced around. It was a typical neighborhood bar, at least it appeared to be. At the back was the usual door leading to the bathrooms and one with a sign over it announcing "Patio." I picked up my beer and walked out onto the patio. It was not too big, surrounded by a high board fence It had a large tree in the center, shading the whole space, no tables and no chairs.
There were three other guys out on the patio. Two were in the deep shadows, in a corner. I could only make out their general form in the half-light. After my eyes adjusted to the light I was astounded to see that one suddenly sank to his knees as the other guy opened his fly and took out his semi-hard cock. The kneeling gobbled it into his mouth and started the normal bobbing on and off.
I was mesmerized! Staring, wide eyed into that dark corner, I didn't see the other guy move to my side. Suddenly I was being groped. My head whipped to the right into the glazed eyes of this guy. He smiled and massaged by cock which had risen to its hard peak while I was watching the corner sport.
"Damn! You got a nice one!" he murmured.
I wanted to move away, but his hand felt too good to evacuate the patio. It had been such a long time since I had achieved any release except through jacking off. So, I just stood there, passively and revelled in the magic his hand was working on my imprisoned cock. Moving to my belt, his dexterity amazed me as he quickly had my fly open, his hand dove into my briefs and hauled out my rigid cock.
"Oh! Man! Is that nice!" He commented, bent over and swallowed my whole hard cock!
"Ahhhh!" I gasped.
This guy was a master cocksucker. He knew what he was doing and he did it with élan! I felt his throat muscles massage my cock head. Some guys say that `deep throating' is not what it's cracked up to be. DON'T BELIEVE THEM! It's awesome, spectacularly sensual, undeniably luxurious! In a short time, I was trembling all over.
Just then, two guys came from the bar into the patio. I panicked and quickly withdrew my cock from the guy's mouth, stuffed it back into my pants, zipped up, went back into the bar and quickly left. I have never been in a situation of what might be categorized as public sex, and certainly was not an exhibitionist.
A couple of days later I was in the john at work when this guy walked in and took the urinal two down from me. I recognized him. He was in the accounting department and not too far from the office where I worked.
"Hey! How ya doin?" he asked.
"Fine," I answered, and added, "And you?"
Smiling, he answered, "OK!"
And, I went to the sink to wash my hands. He did the same thing.
"You're the new political analyst . Right?"
"Yeah,"
"I'm Pete, Pete La Tour, accounting" he said offering me his hand.
"Jim Adams," I answered, shaking his hand and added, "So you're one of those number guys?"
"Yep."
After that inauspicious introduction we ran into each other often, that week, usually had our coffee together, generally ate lunch together in the company's cafeteria and just chatted. Pete, it turned out, was from Louisiana. Who wouldn't be with a name like La Tour? His family was much like mine, solid middle class, two siblings and he went to school at Loyola before taking the position in Chicago. Within a week, we had developed a tentative friendship.
As we sat eating our lunch the next Wednesday, Pete asked, "Are you busy Friday night."
"Nope! My social calendar is woefully empty,"
"Good. How about we have dinner together?"
"Sounds good to me. What time?"
"Sevenish?"
"OK," and I added, "But, let's make it Dutch?"
"Fine," and he added, "What kind of food do you like?"
"I'm open to anything . . . you pick the place."
Pete had been in Chicago nearly a year, so he was more familiar with the places to go than I was. We met and ate at a wonderful, small, neighborhood Italian restaurant called the "da Vinci." I choose linguini Carbonara, which was delicious, a wonderful salad, a bottle of wine and creme caramel for dessert. Our conversation was animated and relaxed in that ambiance.
"How would you like to stop by my place for a night cap? It's not far from here,"
"Sure," I said, and I followed him to his apartment house.
Pete's apartment was a comfortable one bedroom apartment with an ample living room and a pullman kitchen.
"How about a B&B?"
"Yeah! That sounds great."
As he went to get the drinks, I perused his book shelf . . . just the normal collection of classics and a couple of dozen DVD's. Most of the DVD's were popular movies and then I pulled out one that caught my attention: a DVD of Jeff Stryker pictured on the cover with an absolutely enormous cock lolling out of his fly! That caught my eye. Pete walked up with the snifters and saw what I was looking at.
"See you picked out the best of the lot!"
"Well, he certainly has a lot to recommend him!" I said with a chuckle.
I took a sip of the amber liquid and replaced the DVD and turned nearly running into Pete who was standing behind me. Smiling, he reached out and cupped my basket. I was a bit taken back at this hasty approach, not that I mind being fondled. But I was a bit taken back.
"You've got a lot to recommend you too!" he said with a smirk.
"How would you know?" I said with a wry smile and stepped back freeing my swelling cock from his warm cupping.
"Well, it appeared substantial . . . at least what I could see of it at The Forge," he admitted with a grin.
I was taken back a bit. "You were at The Forge . . . that . . . night?"
Smiling, "Yeah."
"Where?"
"In the patio."
"In that dark corner?" I asked.
"Yep."
"Were you standing or kneeling?"
"Standing," he admitted, then stepped up to me again and fondled my nearly hard cock, "But I'll gladly kneel for this!"
I just stood there while he unzipped my fly and lowered my pants and briefs. My hard cock sprang out and he grabbed it and fondled it some more.
"Ahhhh!"
What transpired then can only be described as awesome. I was left weak kneed and trembling all over.
I was surprised, pleasantly so by what transpired. Maybe it was the unexpected, unsolicited attention he paid to me there on his knees.
The next few months after what happened subsequent to the first dinner with Pete at da Vinci's can only be described as a most sybaritic, hedonistic, carnal period in my life. My brief relationship with Khalid developed into an attachment that may be characterized as love. Even though the "L" word was never spoken, never admitted by the time he left, it was there, nonetheless. Of course, Khalid's and my relationship was passionate, erotic and sensual but it had a dimension of emotional connection spring from my romantic side.
With Pete, the connection was purely physical, at least on his part. I know that now.
Pete and I got together every weekend. His ability, his technique in bed was phenomenal! He would edge me until I was reduced to a gasping, begging mass of eroticized muscles and nerve endings. Then his actions would propel me over the edge into the abyss of screaming, lascivious agony and release. I was always left breathless and totally sated. I must say that he seemed eminently satisfied with my performance as well.
A couple of weeks after the da Vinci episode, we found ourselves in my apartment, naked, eroticized and on my bed. I was on my back and Pete was between my legs with my cock in his mouth doing what he did best. He grasped my knees and pushed them up to my chest. My throbbing cock was still deep in his throat. Then he pulled out with a wet pop. I felt his tongue trailing down between my balls, over that most sensitive spot just behind my orbs and back and forth over my sensitive bud. That sent me into unknown, unexplored realms of erotic delight. As I flew into sensual orbit I spread my thighs, subconsciously as if to give him unimpeded access to my sphinctered gate.
"Ahhhh! Gawd," I groaned and torques my body!
I could feel his thumbs bracketing my tight bud and pulling it open. His tongue plunged in and I gasped and my body convulsed. He kept up this most lascivious tonguing for several minutes. My head whipped back and forth from that sensual assault.
"Oh! Yeah! Oh, yeah!"
Deep in my primordial psyche, I wanted more. But, more of what? I did not consciously know what I yearned for at the time!
I was aware that Pete had reached for the K-Y which was always close at hand and squeezed a dollop onto my spasming bud. A finger carefully invaded my love channel. I was a bit surprised `cause I felt no pain, no discomfort, only a delicious fulfillment of my primal wish. His mouth returned to besieging my quaking cock as his finger entered deep into my gut.
"Ahhhh! GAWD!" exploded from deep in me.
There I lay, my cock deep in Pete's throat and his finger entering and retreating from my sensitized hole. Being sucked and finger-fucked at the same time was an experience I had never before experienced and/or enjoyed. And, enjoy it, I truly did! I squirmed under the onslaught. Then I perceived a second finger taking its place beside the first one. Again, there was little discomfort, only an exponential increase in the pleasure the first finger provided.
"Oh, my Gawd!" I groaned and rose up to meet the challenge.
I know that I am a romantic, incurably so, and a sensualist, also incurably so. I know realize that there is nothing inherently wrong or negative regarding these conditions either separately or combined. However, I also feel that when they are combined without conscious thought or consideration, without a thorough and complete inventory from time to time, certain unfortunate circumstances may occur. In some cases a sensual or erotic addiction could arise that may leave the individual bereft of the ability to make any meaningful connection or relationship. Or they may block any logical consideration and lead to some devastating situations or conditions.
I know that I bordered on an addiction to the glory hole and the release I experienced when I was at Weston. But, then I was a neophyte to having my cock sucked and deeply closeted at the time. I remember questioning myself, "Why am I coming here so much?" But the wondrous release I always received precluded any further personal/emotional inquiry and my possible addiction ceased upon my graduation.
Certainly, my association with Khalid bordered on a thoroughly natural, mutually beneficial, even commonplace need of a normal relationship. Our desires were complimentary. They dovetailed perfectly.
I guess I realized where this physical/sensual preparation was leading. But, I had been manipulated to such a level that I cared not. As a matter of fact my desire level almost demanded satisfaction. In and out his fingers plunged and scissored within me, stretching me as he ably sucked my throbbing cock. I thrashed under his most able ministration.
Then, incredibly Pete added a third finger.
"Ahhhh!" I groaned, part from pleasure and part of the further and slightly uncomfortable violation. For long minutes he slid his lubed fingers in and out of my relaxing, sphinctered gate, turning them as he did so. I was becoming so eroticized that I was in the realm of superheated, lascivious pleasure.
Pete pulled off my wet cock, sat back, but continued his three fingered dance in my ass.
"I'm going to fuck you!" he announced quietly. He knew that I had never been fucked in the ass before. The first few times we bedded, he had wanted to fuck me, but I deferred. Partly out of fear of pain and partly because of the dimensions of his substantial tool. But this time, I simply didn't care. As a matter of fact, subconsciously, I invited the experience.
"Mmmm," was all I was consciously able to say.
I watched as he slathered K-Y over his cock and crabbed up to my exposed, quaking and relaxed hole. He lifted my ankles to his shoulders, positioned his cock head at my quivering, spasming sphincter and slowly pushed in. His cock head POPPED in.
"Ahhhh!" I gasped as my, to then, virgin hole was stretched to accommodate his substantial helmeted, cock head.
Happily he held his position `til I became accustomed to his opulent muscle's invasion, violation of my virgin hole. Pete was not an inconsiderate lover. He knew that this was my first time, and he proceeded with caution and consideration. After a minute, he inserted a bit more of his length, and again held his position. Finally, after a time, he was able, to sink the whole length of his turgid cock in me.
"You all right?" he inquired.
"Yeah," I answered breathlessly.
"You feel OK?"
"I feel stuffed," I admitted.
"Not unusual for the first time or two," he answered with a smile.
Then ever so slowly, Pete drew out partially and then slowly reinserted his cock deep into me being.
"Ahhhh!"
For long minutes he continued that gentle fucking motion . . . slowly out . . . slowly in . . . slowly out . . . slowly in . . . he established a rhythm. I had become thoroughly accustomed to the intrusion of his substantial cock in my ass. There was no pain and any initial discomfort which was dissipated only to be replaced by the warm pleasure of his presence in me.
"You like this?"
"Oh! Yes! It feels so good," I admitted.
Then and only then Pete began to speed up the tempo of his thrusting as he sunk his rampant dick deep into me. Soon he was plunging, probing deep into me and his speed brought uncompromising gasps of pleasure.
"Yes! Oh! Yes!" I urged him on.
I could tell that he was nearing his orgasm as he threw back his head, his eyes rolled back and he began to heedlessly piston my ass like a jack hammer or the driver of a great, runaway, steam locomotive. Finally, he bellowed like a raging bull. Deep, and guttural his primordial cry of release filled the room.
"ARGGHHH! AHHHH! Ahhhh!"
I felt his great cock expand as he drove it deep into my velvet channel, quiver, spasm and convulse, shooting his hot cum deep in my gut in great, lust driven gouts of his lustral, creamy man juice.
"Oh, Geese," I exclaimed, breathless.
Slowly Pete withdrew and I thought for all the world that I was defecating. It was only after I lowered my legs and returned to the real world that I felt a certain tenderness, a soreness in my nether region.
But, Pete was responsible for deflowering me, and, I must admit, in a most gentle, almost tender manner. I would never forget that. All the stories I had read about getting ass fuck the first time seemed to emphasize the searing pain upon the initial penetration. I had none of this. But, I must admit, I was sore, tender for days after that monumental session. I guess that's to be expected.
I had progressed in my personal sexual development from those first days at Weston where I had been introduced to the joys of the glory hole and oral sex, anonymous as it was. My association, my relationship with Khalid had expanded my horizons to appreciate, even yearn for the sucking of another man's cock, something in my youth I would never have anticipated. Yet, I grew to enjoy even crave the feel of Khalid's hard, velvety warmth sliding past by lips. And, the first time I slipped by cock into the tight, velvety warmth of his love tunnel, I thought I had achieved Nirvana, or, at least something close to it. Then, there was Pete's impressive cock sliding in and out of my sphinctered gate. The first two or three times, I experienced various levels of delight. But the fourth time, some weeks after my initial introduction, I achieved a level of lascivious, sensual enjoyment I never thought possible. I had reached a spontaneous orgasm as his
momentous cock head again and again caressed, stimulated my G-spot! I began to associate that kind of warm, luxurious orgasms with Pete's cock pounding my ass.
It soon grew to the point that I craved our couplings more than just on the weekends. The sight of his naked body, his muscular ass and his substantial cock and balls never failed to cause my own cock to swell to its needful height and my mouth to hunger for his hard, warm obelisk. My tight bud also developed a quivering, a hankering to feel his penetration. I had developed into the kind of sexual, erotic, sexual animal I never could have imagined.
One particularly athletic joining, on a Wednesday night, left us both breathless, sweat drenched and fulfilled.
"Gawd! What you do to me," Pete said as we lay in bed, limply.
"What I do to you! Look who's talking!"
"I'm too beat to go home!"
"Well, then stay here tonight."
"OK."
We embraced and fell into a deep sleep, not bothering to shower. Pete woke first the next morning and quietly slipped out of bed.
"Morning," I murmured as he was dressing.
"Morning," he said and leaned over to give me a gentle kiss. "I gotta run! Need to go to my place and shower and dress for work."
"OK."
From the time that Pete and I had connected I had grown to anticipate our times together. For sure, he had struck a harmonic chord in me. I began to yearn for his touch, his presence, our couplings. He had open doors to the lascivious delights in my being of which I was unaware. The feel of his obdurate cock sliding in and out of my sensitized love tunnel became more and more pleasurable for me, as well as the plunging of my dick past his sphinctered bud into those dark erotic depths of his. I had even experienced a spontaneous orgasm as his cock head caressed my G-spot. That was a sensation I can only describe as, "Other worldly!" I knew that I was a sensuous being, but Pete had caused me to blossom in ways I never thought possible. Mostly our love making was slow and easy in the initial stages reaching a crescendo of passion in which we both exploded in untrammeled delight and physical release.
A few times, our need was such that any preparatory, sensual action, any fore play was bypassed and we merely fucked or sucked like wanton animals releasing the need of the moment! Once, even, while in the elevator at work, Pete suddenly shut of the elevator, stopping us between floors, took out his then hard cock and stated, "Suck me. Now!" I did. It was barely a minute before he came in my mouth and then we proceeded to our floor as if nothing had transpired.
Another time, at his apartment, Pete was preparing us a snack in the kitchen. We were both nude and the sight of his firm ass at that moment was too much for me. I walked up behind him and rasped in his ear, "I wanna fuck your hot ass!" He snickered as he scooped up some soft butter, reached behind him and slathered some of it over my iron, stiff cock before anointing his hole. Without preamble, I shoved my dick up his ass and fucked the hell out of him!
But, all of our meetings were not just physical. During our times at work, we talked during the lunch breaks, spending the time plumbing each other's likes, dislikes in that short time. I grew to know him in ways that Khalid and I had grown together. I knew that my feelings for Pete had grown from just rampant, physical release to something more. I felt that we were verging on a relationship that had some degree of permanence. It was a feeling that I kept to myself, only alluding to my true emotions on occasion.
Weeks later, Pete stated, "A couple of my friends are having a party Saturday night. Wanna go with me?"
"Sure," I answered.
The party was at this guy's apartment on the near north side. When we arrived, the party had already been going on for a while. As we entered, the host, John, walked up to us and kissed Pete on the lips, then kissed me. I was a bit uneasy with that sudden familiarity, but thought, "Well, when in Rome . . . . "
There were four other guys and rather than submitting to their kisses, I extended my hand in greeting as I was introduced to them. Pete, on the other hand, was apparently familiar with them and kissed each one of them.
John's TV was on, playing a DVD, a gay DVD. It was the usual fare for that genre and the screen flashed from one lurid scene to another. Sucking and fucking in all positions imaginable. Frankly it was sorta stimulating. Pete walked up behind me, wrapped his arms around me and asked, "Like the video?"
"Yeah! Quite athletic," I answered.
Then he slipped his hand down to my crotch and cupped my already growing hard on!
I was a bit uneasy with his action and said, "Not here!" And, tried to remove his hand.
He didn't move his hand and began to fondle me. "Not to worry, my horny friend. Look to your right."
I did and in the entrance to a short hallway a guy was on his knees sucking John`s cock. I glanced around and several of the others were kissing passionately and fondling each others cocks! I remembered that time in the boat house at Weston and how the sight of those two sucking and fucking had turned me on. I was getting eroticized, especially by Pete's fondling, but I really wasn't prepared for or had any need to exhibit my passion for Pete in front of these guys.
Deftly, Pete unzipped my pants and fished out my burgeoning cock. I tried to restrain him, but his insistence and my growing eroticization made such an effort futile. He turned me around, dropped to his knees and gobbled my hard cock into his mouth. The battle was lost at that point. I merely glanced around at the others and saw that all had already divested themselves of their clothing. John had moved behind his partner-of-the-moment as was soundly fucking him. Two others were locked in a passionate soixante-neuf and were fingering each other's ass as they feverishly sucked their partner's cock. Pete worked his oral magic on my cock and managed to pull my pants and briefs down to my ankles. I felt a guys arms encircle my torso from behind and his fingers quickly sought out my nipples and began to play with them.
By that time, I was too far gone to resist. "I guess this is an orgy!" I commented to myself. I had heard about orgies and even had seen few on DVD's but never desired to partake in one. I decided to go with the flow . . . up to a point!
The guy reached down and pulled my polo shirt off over my head. I lifted my arms in passive aid. There I stood naked in this stranger's apartment with Pete sucking my cock and five other guys in various stages of sexual play. The guy behind me began to caress my ass cheeks and a finger insinuated itself down my crack towards my puckered bud. I reached behind and removed the invading digit with some force.
Then he stood up and whispered in my ear, "You have an amazing ass I want to tongue your tight hole! Eat it out!" He dropped down again, spread my cheeks and I could feel his tongue searching out the sensitive bud.
I bent over a bit to allow him easier access as Pete continued deep throating me. Pete pulled off my cock, stood up, smiled at me and stripped quickly. He was the last to get naked. He stood there fondling his hard, virile member and looked at me.
"Suck me!" he stated.
I grabbed his waist, bent over and started to suck his cock. I never could have imagined that I would suck his, or any other guy's cock in front of anybody else, much less a group of strangers. But there I was sucking Pete's cock while my ass was getting a pretty good rimming. My rimmer spread my cheeks apart and with his thumbs spread my sphinctered hole open and slid his tongue into me, tongue fucking me while I ministered to Pete's cock. My physical onslaught, plus the moans and groans of the other guys in the room fueled my passion.
Pete pulled out of my mouth, leaned down and whispered, "I'm gonna slide my cock into your wet hole."
I neither nodded my assent nor shook my head in dissent. I merely waited `til he maneuvered behind me, displaced the fucking tongue for his larger and harder love muscle. Slowly he slid it in!
"Ahhhh!" I gasped as he clutched my waist and began that primal dance.
Some guy came around and stood in front of me, offering his hard, quaking cock for me to suck.
This whole situation was almost more than I could endure. I have come to realize fully, that I am a one-person-guy! I have not been in a situation, dare I say relationship, where I have had any feelings or need to seek other sources for my sexual release.
The guy in front of me stepped closer and I felt obliged to suck his cock. Besides, my state of eroticism with Pete fucking me didn't brook anything else. It was an obligation, nothing I really yearned to do. So, I sucked him without any real passion.
After a few minutes Pete pulled out of me then reinserted his cock and continued fucking me, but not with the same passion as before. I pulled of the cock in front of me and turned to see Pete standing beside me being ministered to orally by some other guy.
"What the hell!" I stated and moved to disengage from whoever was fucking me.
Pete put his hand on my back, urging me to stay bent over in compliance, passive compliance to the fucker behind me. "Relax! Just enjoy it," he said.
"I'm not into this!" I said.
"Just do it!" Pete commanded.
The state in which I now found myself was totally alien to me. It was slightly repugnant. And when my anonymous fucker pulled out and another stepped up to take his place, I had it! I never had expected in my life to be the passive vessel of a gang bang!
I stood up and forcefully said, "No!"
"Come on, Jim . . . go with the flow," Pete pleaded.
"No way!" I uttered and began to dress. "I'm leaving!" and added, "You can get a ride home." And, I left.
It was a night I would never forget. First, if I had known that Pete and I would have been having sex in front of a group of other guys, I would have objected. Vehemently! I'm not a prude, but I'm not an exhibitionist either. If that's something others want to do, then OK. But, not me! Secondly, I am of the mind that I choose or at least accept those with whom I am going to have sex. And, lastly, getting fucked is something to me that is really a personal, intimate thing I choose to do with a guy with whom I have more than a modicum of feelings for.
I drove to my apartment in a state of high anxiety. How could Pete expect me to submit? I felt violated physically and emotionally. I thought that he had some feelings for me! I never would have expected him to do what he erroneously assumed I would do. I felt betrayed. True, I had only knew Pete for a few months, but nothing during that time gave me any indication of what he had allowed to transpire that night.
My anxiety, my sense of violation, my betrayal slowly turned to anger as I lay in bed that night. I neither needed nor wanted that kind of crap! Finally, I fell asleep.
I awoke late Sunday morning feeling drained. I had a non-alcoholic hangover!
Around noon the phone rang. Thinking it was Pete, I almost didn't answer it, but thought better of it and picked up the receiver.
"Hello," I said leadenly, emotionless.
"Geese! What a way to answer the phone. You sound like shit!" It was Bob!
"Oh! Hi!" I answered, a bit more upbeat.
"Bad night?"
"You wouldn't believe it!" I answered.
"Wanna talk about it?" he asked.
"Not over the phone," I admitted.
"That bad?"
"Yeah. It was."
"Well, any way, the reason I called was to see if you are busy a week from this coming Wednesday?"
"No, not busy. Why?"
"Well, I have an interview that Thursday and thought it would be great to spend some time together. Even though you are just in Chicago, we haven't seen each other in ages and thought it would be fun to spend some time together. You game?"
"That would be great! Where are you interviewing?"
"University of Chicago."
"Geese! Pretty high class! Didn't think you were that smart," I said with a chuckle. Actually, Bob was academically talented and I wasn't surprised.
"Hah!" he said, then added, "The old man knows a few profs there and got me the interview."
"Great!" I said with enthusiasm. We chatted a few more minutes before he rang off. His phone call and impending visit neutralized the mood I was in. I made it through the rest of the day and prepared for Monday. There was no way I could avoid seeing Pete at work.
Got to work early and immersed myself in a project I was working on. Coffee break time came and Pete walked up to my desk and asked, "Wanna have coffee with me?"
"Really can't. Got loads to do on this new analysis."
"OK," he said and walked off.
Noontime I went down to the cafeteria rather than picking up Pete on the way and got my lunch and found an empty table. I began to eat my food when Pete walked up with his tray.
"Hi!" he said sheepishly, "Can I share your table?"
"Sure," I answered neutrally as he sat down.
"Are you mad at me?" Pete asked.
"No, but really disappointed in you."
We talked quietly while we ate and I explained my position.
Pete thought that I over-reacted. "It was just a bunch of guys getting together to have a little fun," he stated.
"Maybe, But sex with a bunch of strangers is not my idea of fun. Besides, I will never be interested in being the bottom for a gang bang!"
"I thought you liked getting fucked," he stated quietly.
Pete knew that he was the first one I had ever allowed to fuck me, and I answered, " I do, but only with you. I thought it was special for us! But, I guess I was mistaken."
"You make too much out of sex, Jim. It's not as though we had a monogamous commitment together!"
I didn't answered him, just stared into his eyes. Maybe he got the message. We had lunch together a couple more times that week, but our meetings were bland, neutral, nothing out of the ordinary.
Friday afternoon, after I got home, Pete called me
"Hi! Do you want to come over to my place for a while tonight?" he asked, somewhat hesitantly.
"No," I answered, then added, "My college room mate is coming this week and I have a lot of cleaning to do."
"Oh! OK. Maybe some other time," he stated. I could hear the disappointment in his voice.
"Yeah. Maybe," I answered.
"See you at work then."
"Sure," and he hung up.
That was hard to do, but after the incident the previous weekend, I felt justified. And, besides this past week seeing and talking to Pete on a strictly social-professional basis had cleared my mind of most of the hurt and pain. I really wasn't a vengeful type, but that Saturday night forced me to mature in ways I didn't think possible at this point. But, then, I guess, certain experiences make you grow up quicker than others. It was interesting, previously the sound of Pete's voice or his presence sent sensual chills through my body. Fortunately, or unfortunately his voice and/or presence no longer engendered that reaction.
Wednesday I hurried home and made some last minute preparations for Bob's arrival. He had phoned the night before and said that he should be at my place between 6:30 and 7:00 o'clock. I had made some light appetizers as we had decided to go out later for dinner. That was a real ordeal for me as I am nowhere near being considered a cook! I had spoken to one of my colleagues with which I was on friendly terms and asked her if she could recommend some simple appetizers.
"You cooking?" Amie snorted.
Amie was a few years older than me, happily married and besides we came from similar types of backgrounds. I came from west central Wisconsin and she from southeast Minnesota. We would chat during the infrequent slow times and laugh at the things we used to experience as kids. Both of our parents were rather conservative and somewhat churchly.
"Well, nothing elaborate," I commented, "Just something I can make without using the stove!"
"Geese! Have you ever used your stove?"
"Just to boil water," I said with a grin. Actually I could fry a mean rasher of bacon and even pan broiled a steak or two. But, the oven was off limits as far as I was concerned. I didn't even know how to operate the damned thing!
So, she brought me three carefully detailed recipes and talked me through the procedures once or twice.
"Well, I may not be a rocket scientist, but these seem pretty simple to me," I commented.
"We shall see!" she commented with a giggle.
The first was anchovy butter on Melba toast. That was easy. Made that the night before after stopping at the local grocery store. Didn't know what the hell Melba toast was. But I found out! The second was a mixture of shrimp, avocado and Roquefort on thinly sliced baguette. Baguette, I knew! I was gaining confidence. The third was a challenge--cream cheese, capers and chopped chives rolled in prosciutto. The prosciutto was hell to manipulate! After I got done the `rolls' looked kinda funny, and a bit lumpy but tasted OK. I managed to massage them into an acceptable looking roll. Anyway, by 6:30 everything was done and I sat in the living room and awaited Bob's arrival.
There was a knock on my door at 6:45. I opened it and there stood Robert Veneable Jefferson grinning from ear to ear!
"Damn! You're a sight for sore eyes," he happily greeted me as he stepped in, dropped his suitcase and gave me a big hug.
"Damn! It's good to see you," I said. Then I grabbed his suitcase and took it to the guest room as Bob followed.
"Nice apartment you've got here."
"Yeah. A bit larger than our suite at Weston," I admitted with a grin, then added, "The bathroom is across the hall if you care to freshen up a bit."
"Great! I could use the can."
"Help yourself. When you're done we can have a drink before we go off to dinner. You still drink Scotch and water?"
"Yep. And, I could use one."
I went to the kitchen and fixed our drinks, took them to the living room and returned for my canapés. In a couple of minutes Bob walked into the living room and inspected my appetizers.
"Where did you get these? Is there a deli close by?"
"Made them myself. Nothing too good for my ole roomie!"
"Geese! Didn't know you had any skills in the kitchen!"
"You'd be surprised what skills I've picked up the past couple of years," I admitted proudly.
"Bet I would," he answered with a smirk.
Bob and I had dinner at a local restaurant that specialized in Lebanese food. We had hummus, tabbouleh, kibbeh, fried eggplant and flan along with a bottle of wine. We chatted casually as if there had been no time since our last meeting, merely a little catching up.
When we got back to the apartment I fixed a cup of expresso. The expresso maker was one of the things I splurged on for my kitchen. We relaxed in the living room and sipped the pungent, aromatic, dark coffee.
"Well, you seem in better spirits than when I called last Sunday," Bob commented.
I was expecting this allusion, but really didn't know how to explain to him my situation, my changing life style these past short years. Bob was in no way homophobic, but I really didn't know how he would accept my situation. I decided to tell him all, and hope for the best.
"Bob," I started, hesitantly, "There is an aspect of my personality . . . that I don't think . . . you are aware of." He sat there calmly waiting for me to continue. "Remember that time at Weston when I had seen those two in the boat house?"
"Yeah. I remember."
"Well, soon after that I experienced . . . I had . . . an anonymous . . . sexual encounter when I went to Milwaukee to use their library. It was totally unplanned . . . but . . . quite exciting . . . ."
"I take it, you mean an experience with another guy?" he said neutrally, with no hint of emotion or judgement.
"Yeah. But not face to face . . . It was in a john . . . a glory hole." Still no reaction from Bob. "Well, anyway, when I got back to Weston I had a few more similar encounters!"
"You mean in the one in Old Main?"
I was taken back a bit as his statement. "How did he know about that glory hole? I asked myself. But, then I guessed that if anyone had ever used that john they may have observed the hole in the wall.
"Yeah," I answered. Then I told him about Khalid and the strong emotional attachment that had developed between us.
"Have you heard from him since he left?"
"Only the one call. He never gave me his phone number and never called me again."
"That's understandable . . . especially in that country and certainly if he got married," he declared.
"Yeah. Guess you're right." Finally, I told him about Pete and that `party,' leaving out most of the lurid details, but enough so that he got the picture.
"Damn! I would have smacked him in the chops!"
I smiled at that uncharacteristic remark. Bob was no wimp, but neither was he an ultra macho type. I'm sure he could have taken care of himself if the occasion ever arose, but I never knew him to be physically aggressive or even assertive. He always managed with his well honed wits to avoid any physical confrontation as impressive as his physique was.
After my `confession, my revelation, my unloading' I felt relieved. We just sat there in silence for a minute or two. Bob seemed totally understanding and absolutely non-judgemental about the whole thing.
"Bob, I can't tell you what a burden this has been and just talking, unloading to you has really lifted it for me. You've been so understanding, I can imagine it's . . . been . . . quite a , , , surprise for you."
"First of all, unloading are what friends are for. Secondly, your . . . relationship with other . . . guys . . . . Well, after that call last Sunday, I couldn't imagine what serious thing had happened to you, or what you did. It's not as though you killed someone! Making it with another guy is not even on my list of . . . terrible things!" The last was made with a knowing smile.
"Thanks."
"No thanks needed, Jim."
Bob left for his interview the next morning when I was leaving for work.
"See you for dinner tonight?" I asked.
"Probably, but I'll call you either way."
"OK. Good luck!"
"Thanks."
Bob called me on his cell phone around 5:30 that afternoon.
"Are we still on for dinner?" he asked.
"You bet," I answered and added, "Just got home. I'll have a drink ready for you when you get here."
"Any more of those yummy snacks you said you whipped up?"
"Yeah. There are a few left in the fridge. I'll take them out for you."
"Good. See you in about a half an hour unless the traffic gets the better of me," he stated with a wry chuckle
"OK."
We had a nice, relaxed dinner Thursday night, Bob insisted that it was his treat. He felt that the interview went well, but had to leave early Friday morning for the drive back to Madison and an afternoon meeting with his dissertation advisor prior to his orals.
The next Wednesday, I got a call from Bob. He had been accepted at the U of C and his orals were completed successfully, he passed.
We made plans for him to come to Chicago and hunt for an apartment in a couple of weeks, on a Fridsy.