Home for the Holidays

Warning: this story contains some strong language and depicts suicidal ideations. If these trigger you, please read no further. But don’t worry, no characters were killed in the making of this story, so please enjoy. Author’s Note: I’m hoping that in writing this, I can help myself through a deeply depressing time in my life.


Home for the Holidays – By James Lancy

Breaking up over the holidays wasn’t the best reason to drink, but for Devon, it was the only reason. He didn’t want to go to any gay bars or his favorite bowling alley with any of his friends. Instead, he kept himself inside curled up in his college throw blanket and a bottle of Merlot.

‘I’m attractive, right?’ he’d think to himself as he took another sip from his glass. It was time to refill and did so almost instantaneously. All of the thoughts about failure and regret seeped to the forefront of his mind. Between his onyx locks was a tumultuous storm and all he had to navigate was the blacked out stars and a slow leaking frigate.

He was indeed attractive. Devon was irresistible to both sexes; which made his Bisexuality a mixed blessing. He never discriminated when it came to lovers. Perhaps such a mode of thought became his undoing.

“Jeez, are you going to sit here all night?” Cody asked Devon as he was just about to put on the winter coat he procured from the closet. Cody was Devon’s roommate and was heading out to meet with a very attractive younger woman, then take her to have dinner with his family.

“I have nowhere to go,” Devon groaned out just before taking another sip of Merlot. “Jared broke up with me and you know how things are with my parents.” Then he felt like joking. “Feel like taking home a stray?”

“And embarrass myself in front of my parents?” Cody asked incredulously. “I think I’ll pass.”

“Why?” Devon asked, his tone growing sour and even more slurred with the more he drank. “Because I like men? You’re embarrassed that they’d figure out I’m half gay?”

“Dude, get a life,” Cody said with an equally sour tone. “Get out of the apartment and find some guy or girl to sleep with. Maybe then you’ll feel a little better about yourself.”

“I had a life,” Devon persisted and turned himself over on the couch he was sitting on. Then he knelt towards the back of the couch and hung his wine glass over the edge. “I had a pretty fucking good one too. But somehow…” He waved his glass around in a circle while he thought of the next words to say. “Jared got bored of me. I want to know what the fuck I did wrong.”

“Then ask him,” Cody replied to Devon’s brooding. “Don’t ask me. I’m not Jared. I gotta go.”

“Wait…” Devon said urgently. He put down his drink on the coffee table and got up to meet his roommate. “Can’t you just stay for a little while longer?”

“Oh no, I see that look on your face,” Cody said, objecting to whatever he was going to ask. Devon certainly looked like he wanted something. “I am perfectly straight, thank you very much.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Devon said, defeated and looking at the carpet on the floor. “Have a good time, then.” He tried to look up and smile, but it looked entirely too forced, Cody didn’t believe it for a second.

Cody walked right out of the door and left Devon alone in the living room of the apartment, left to his thoughts which grew darker as the minutes and seconds ticked by. For five minutes after Cody left, he sat on the couch in silence, then laid down sprawled across the cushions.

It was after Cody left that Devon was then switched into autopilot, he was hit so hard by the breakup and the degradation of his life thereafter. On his way home from his last date with Jared, he stocked up on his favorite fermented liquid and told the clerk he was planning a big holiday party with a rehearsed smirk. It was hard to believe he could act in such a manner after an event that shattered his balance into a million pieces.

So he went back and forth between the couch and the kitchen for more alcohol. Once for a new glass because the one he had accidentally fell off of the coffee table. Then another trip to the bathroom for tweezers and an adhesive bandage because he cut the bottom of his foot on the broken glass.

Cody had a pretty nice night. He picked up the stunning blond he had chatted up on Tinder and on the ride to where his parents loved to dine during the holidays, the two of them came up with something to tell his parents when they got there.

“So we met at my frat house…” Cody started to say but then thought better of it. “Wait, that sounds too ridiculous. Where could we meet that doesn’t have my mom freaking?” He thought long and hard about it. He went over a few options in his head then settled on the best thing he could think of. “Let’s just stick with Tinder. It wouldn’t be a total lie.”

“Sure, why not?” Katy said with a smile, a chuckle, and a shrug of her shoulders. “What’s next?”

“Well, we’ve dated for a few weeks,” Cody went on as he stopped, looked both ways, and turned a corner. “You’ve even come out to meet me at work, I work at Simpson and Simpson Law Firm. I’m a paralegal working on my law degree. And you’d bring me lunch to be cute.”

“I suppose that would sound like me,” Katy said sarcastically. “Bringing lunch to be cute.” She was one of those more down to earth girls despite being a total bombshell blonde.

Cody was blonde as well, but his looks were really the only good things going for him. His attitude would be described as tolerable at best and at worst, a number of his friends would have to call him out for being a total ass.

A few more turns and they made it to the local wine and dine Italian restaurant where his family liked to meet on Christmas every year much to the chagrin of the wait and cook staff. They understood that people didn’t like to cook, but that didn’t mean it would be up to the people who did it for a living.

About that time of the evening, Devon resorted to texting Cody about his distressing state of mind. And as he was waiting for the waiter to take his order, he felt his cell phone go off in his pocket.

When he took out his phone, Cody instantly saw who was texting and proceeded to put the device back in its place. He rolled his eyes and quickly regained his composure to get back to dinner. Devon saw that his message went unanswered, thinking his roommate might be busy and tried someone else. Jared would never listen in his mind, he probably moved on at point anyway. Every other contact in his phone probably wouldn’t listen either.

Devon’s eyes started to roll to the back of his head, images of Jared plagued his senses surrounded by a vivid haze. The curly blonde was surrounded by a blackness, lit by a single spotlight. His full lips opened just slightly and his hands groped every curve of his own body. Not a strip of fabric in sight, nothing but a majestic rawness shaded in a light pink hue. He wanted friction and heat, he wanted to pour out his desires of the flesh. But this was merely a tease followed by a roar of laughter. “I would never do it with you,” Jared’s sweet and sultry voice said, dripping with poison.

Devon’s instinctual reaction to being denied what he longed for was to scream at the top of his lungs. Unfortunately for him, he was also drunk as hell, and the pressure he placed on his stomach was enough to make him sick. For whatever reason, his hazed mind made the sound decision to be sick in the one place nearby that could make it easy to clean; the kitchen. Probably the worst idea he could come up with to date.

The next few hours were filled with an existential back and forth between himself and his demons. The demons had the upper hand because they knew of deep-seated pain points that even he wasn’t aware. He found himself sitting on the lazy boy that Cody liked so much, the stench of sick still in the air. Thankfully, he didn’t get anything on his clothes.

Devon had to try one last ditch effort to save himself. Maybe Cody will answer him if he sent a desperate enough or a sad enough text. It was doubtful, but he couldn’t let his demons win so easily. But at the rate they were going, they had the upper hand. With every drink he ingested, they became more persuasive.

I want to die

That was his only text to Cody, the only one he wanted to send. Devon left out the punctuation because of the generation’s new fangled texting etiquette. He hit the send button and expected no replies, expected his words to shoot up into the air and come back down to him. The read notification reached Devon’s phone and the next half hour was spent with his phone buzzing so much that it would have fallen on the floor if it hadn’t been wedged between a cushion and an arm rest.

Cody: Your serious?

Missed Call from Cody.

Dude pick up your phone

Missed Call from Cody.

I need to talk to you

Missed Call from Cody.

Pick up your fucking phone!!!!!!

5 Missed Calls from Cody.

Damnit I’m coming over

7 Missed Calls from Cody.

Devon you better not be faking

During the time that Devon ignored his phone, he looked for some sort of implement with which he could take his life. His first instinct was to go for a knife, maybe he could slit his wrists or his neck. Slitting the wrists would take too long. He tried as hard as he could to think of all the ways he heard of to commit suicide, but it came back down to the knife.

While Cody was on his way back to the apartment, Devon worked up the courage to do it. He wanted it more than anything because he was so thoroughly convinced that his life was going to hell. The end was inevitable, he just needed a reason to bring the hammer down, and this was it.

He might have waited for a little too long, because just before he could do it, Cody burst through the door.

“Stop!” Cody shouted, so very alarmed that the deed might have already been done. He rushed over and ripped the knife from Devon’s hand and threw it down beside him. “The hell are you doing?”

“Cody, what are you doing?” Devon asked, his temper flaring. “I had it! I was just about to do it.” A few tears started to drip down his cheeks, a mixture of fury and hopelessness.

“Come on, man,” Cody tried to talk Devon down. “Look at you, you have something else, I dunno. I had a date with a hot girl and I gave that up just to make sure you’re okay.”

“Then go back to her!” Devon nearly roared. “If that’s all you care about, then go! I’m sure you’ll have a much better time than my pathetic ass! Because you have something to live for, I don’t.”

“Devon, I get it,” Cody said in return. “You’re depressed and stressed because you feel alone. If you want me to, I’ll stay here with you. I’ll clear my schedule, tell everyone that I can’t spend Christmas with them, they don’t need to know why.”

“Now you’re pitying me,” Devon fumed with balled fists at his sides. “You feel sorry for me because I lost a good thing. Just stop, your good deed is done. Go back to your parties and have your fun. Let me rot in peace.”

“Shit man…” Cody uttered taking in a deep breath and turning away before turning back to take Devon’s cheeks in his hands and bringing the other male close. He had to do something so unexpected as to give Devon a kiss to try and pull the brunette out of the water he was drowning in. Then Cody furiously tore himself away. “I’m willing to take one for the team so you can feel better. What does that say to you?”

“Uh…” Devon muttered for a moment, it took him a moment to process what just happened. He had to sit down. “You just kissed me.”

Cody nodded his head, in utter disbelief over what he just did himself.

“Yeah, I did,” Cody finally answered. “And you know what, it felt kinda good. Just like kissing a…never mind.” He rested his hands on his hips and continued his thought. “So, what will it take to make you feel better? I’m willing to sharp breath do anything.”

“Bullshit,” Devon replied sourly. “You told me before you left that you would never sleep with me because you’re straight.”

“I didn’t say I would never sleep with you,” Cody retorted with a raised index finger. “I just reminded you I’m straight. That doesn’t mean I’m not…willing to experiment.”

“Can I just call bullshit twice?” Devon shot back. “Because it’s very clear that you’re lying through your teeth. You don’t want to sleep with me because I’m a dude and this would complicate our friendship. You’re not even being serious about this, you’re hesitating!”

“Because a few hours ago, the thought of doing it with you sickened me,” Cody said trying to defend himself, and sounding oddly smart while doing so. “Then Katy showed me some pictures of her gay friend and his boyfriend. They looked so into each other. It made me realize that something like this is okay.”

“And seeing me and Jared together didn’t?!” Devon asked desperately. He was clearly trying to put two and two together. “You can let a strange girl show you the light but I can’t?”

“Look, do you want me to do things with you or not?” Cody asked frustratedly. “Because if you don’t, I can go back to my date and we can forget this happened.” He also turned to leave to make a point.

“Wait, I’m sorry,” Devon apologized with a solemn tone. “Please don’t go. If you want to stay and keep me company, I’m not going to argue.”

“Good,” Cody said in return, and he approached Devon still somewhat hesitantly. He tried to work out in his mind how he was going to go about something like this since the thought had previously never been conceivable to him. Cody was always firm and absolute in his sexuality and never thought he’d be capable of reasoning any differently. “Don’t make any sudden moves, okay?”

“Got it,” Devon said softly and opened his arms to receive Cody’s affection. Cody approached Devon and knelt down to straddle the other male and went in slowly for a kiss.

~

One thing led to another and Cody ended up having the best sex of his life, even if he did bottom. The two of them laid in Devon’s bed, still panting fifteen minutes after finishing.

“You know, I never thought that would feel as good as it did,” Cody admitted, the covers reached to his waist and not an inch more while he laid on his stomach.

“You’d be surprised, when I was with Jared, I was the bottom,” Devon commented, but he was quickly shut up by Cody’s sudden frustration.

“Let’s not talk about that asshole, okay?” Cody said, annoyed. “He left you in a mess that I had to clean up. So if I hear his name one more time, I’m moving out.”

“Okay, okay,” Devon said quickly, lifting up a hand in surrender. “No more talking about him.”

“Good,” Cody said, feeling proud of himself for some reason. “I’ll hold you to that.”

Somewhere on Mt. Olympus, the Greek Gods looked down upon those two mortals and simultaneously shook their heads in disapproval. The collected thought was, ‘Humans can be such irrational beings.”

~Fin~


(Story was edited for inconsistencies.)

Suicide is an unfortunate part of the holidays, and it can occur for a number of reasons. Lost loved ones, disownment from one’s family, and the inability to make meaningful friends can send a normally happy person to a dark place. So when going about your days until next Christmas, please keep in mind that not everyone has a place to be or loved ones to visit during the holidays. So take in a stray, I’m sure you’ll make their day all the better for it.

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Sweet Kisses Under the Winter Moon

This is one of my newest short stories. Enjoy!

——

The winter holidays had always been rough for Sean. He was without religion, but he loved to partake in Christmas traditions all the same. That was, until his family found out that he had a preference in sexual partners that his family didn’t particularly agree with. Then, he was alone and nearly homeless, forced to wander the earth while he came to grips with what he was.

The night was brilliant in the city, it almost made Sean forget that the windchill almost ate through the skin of his cheeks. Lights were strung up on nearly every tree surrounding an outdoor ice skating rink that he could neither afford entry to nor could he navigate the complexities of balancing on thin blades of steel. But the thought was certainly nice.

Sean kept fairly neat brunette locks underneath a black knit cap that cradled his cranium quite nicely. He hadn’t shaved in a few days, but it was of little consequence, he was always complimented on the way his facial hair naturally grew. A few gloved fingers brushed over his soul patch, halfway because it was a habit he could never break, halfway because his stubble itched a little. His black wool coat was enough to keep the heat in, but some of the embellishments and buttons were starting to come undone.

From a distance, he looked like a kid standing outside of a candy store. You could almost imagine him placing his hands on the outside surface of the window and salivating while he took in the selections he could partake from, if only he could afford them. One such person did picture that scene and couldn’t help but think of how utterly adorable it looked.

Dustin was one of those business-y types. Always wearing a suit wherever he went because he was most likely on business or coming off of it. He worked as upper management of the sales department in a very large technologies company, seeking out outlets his company’s tech could be sold from. Their latest venture was bringing back older-style flip phones with touch screens and better processing speeds. It was a bit of a novel idea that might work for the older generations.

“If you want to go in, I’d be willing to cover the charge,” Dustin said as he approached the man with arms draped over the railing.

Sean looked up and then around to see if the man speaking was addressing him or anyone else. Then he looked back to see the man looking right at him and replied with a sheepish smile.

“Nah, I’m not much for ice skating,” Sean said as he absentmindedly wiped his nose, sniffing up whatever was in there. “I’d probably fall on my ass.”

“Everyone falls on their ass the first time,” Dustin said as he looked out over the ice rink before turning back to tall, dark, and scruffy. “Unless this wouldn’t be your first time, then I’d be worried.”

“I was probably dragged along when I was a kid, but that was a long time ago,” Sean admitted, thinking back to the days when he got along with his parents. Then he looked back over at the suit to see that he had moved a little closer.

“Ah, the ever-loving parental units,” Dustin said as he stuck his hands in the pockets of his grey trenchcoat. “They always mean well, but they oftentimes miss the mark by that much.” Dustin held up his thumb and index finger close together to give a visual representation.

“Yeah…” Sean admitted before he got to some of the more important aspects of conversation with a new face. “So, are you from around here?”

“Originally, no,” Dustin replied, stealing another peek at the other’s face. “I moved here from Freeport, Maine. Currently, I’m holled up in the Bronx. Name’s Dustin, by the way.” He said as he held out a hand for the other to shake.

“Sean,” he gave his name while he took the hand to shake. “From Manhattan, but currently holled up nowhere.” Sean gave a weak smile before placing his own hands in his pockets.

“Well, that’s unfortunate,” Dustin said as he scratched the side of his cheek before he made an offer. “I’ve got a car parked somewhere around here and my place has heating…and wine. You’re welcomed to it if you want.”

“Tempting, but no,” Sean said with a smile and a bit of a chuckle before his expression calmed. “Usually things go wrong when I go home with strangers. I’m either bound and gagged against my will or someone wants me as a sperm donor. No thanks.”

“Come on, look at me,” Dustin said, stretching his arms out by his sides. “Do I look like someone who engages in BDSM? And more importantly, do I look like a woman to you?”

Dustin had a really good point there, and despite the younger lad’s preppy business attire and cropped hairstyle, he did look rather delicious.

“I’ll give you that,” Sean admitted, stroking his chin a little more while he gave the lad a look-over. “But we just met and you don’t know which way I swing.”

“I know enough to understand that if you didn’t swing that way, you would probably be giving me the most disgusted of looks,” Dustin pointed out. “Instead, you’re considering my offer, completely unphased by the fact that I’m a man.”

Dustin gave Sean one of those telling smirks, knowing full well that he was correct in his thought process.

“So, are you going to take me up on my offer,” Dustin started to ask. “Or are you going to make me wait here all night in the bitter cold?”

Sean turned the thought of a warm bed and hot meal resting in his belly in his mind. Both were things that he lacked for months at that point, and the chill in the air was rather threatening. The elements left him no choice, it was either a strange man or possible death by hypothermia.

“Alright, you got me,” Sean said as he searched the skies for some sort of answer, but came back empty-handed. “I’ll go with you, but no kinky shit. You got me?”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Dustin said as he chuckled a little before he turned around to head in the general direction of his car.

Sean found it a little odd that they didn’t stick around a little longer.

“So, did you come here to actually do something or just to pick up a date?” Sean asked rather suspiciously.

“Yes,” Dustin said sarcastically. “I come here all the time to pick up attractive older men just so I can take them back to my place to have sex and then slit their throat before disposing of the body.”

Maybe what Dustin said took it a little too far, because Sean didn’t take it so lightly. Sean started to turn around and head back in the other direction with a look of sheer horror on his face.

“Hey, it was a joke!” Dustin pleaded as he turned to follow Sean. “I wasn’t actually serious.” Dustin sighed as he ran a hand down his face. “Look, all I want to do is show you a good time, get you out of the cold. Is that wrong of me?”

Sean turned around to see the slight desperation in Dustin’s eyes, and felt a little guilty for jumping at every word the other man said.

“I guess not,” Sean said, his gaze lowered to see that the blades of grass in front of his feet had frozen over and crystallized. “I was only skeptical because stuff like this doesn’t happen to me every day.”

Dustin slowly approached Sean once more and took a hold of the scruffy chin to lift it up so Sean could get a good look at him.

“Tonight can be whatever you want it to be,” Dustin said in a low, soft tone, quite like how a prince would address his princess when they were alone. “If you don’t want to have sex, we won’t have sex. If you do, then I’m all for it. You can even top if you want.” He finished, flashing another one of those telling smirks. “Come on.”

Dustin reached out a hand in gesture to Sean to follow him to his car. They had to climb a small hill to get there, and the grass was slippery, so one of them was bound to slip. Sean, having the worn down pair of combat boots on, was the one to fall flat on his ass. They both took a moment to laugh at the hilarity of the situation before continuing.

Dustin’s car was a nice, new Audi A4 with an iridescent navy blue paint finish, but no one could really tell in the lighting situation. There were very few street lights around, and what of them were there were dimmed because the city never bothered to change the bulbs. As long as they still worked, why spend the extra money to update them?

The car ride was incredibly silent. The hum of the engine was barely audible over the muffled sounds of the city and the music that Dustin decided to play over the speaker system. The bass that the speakers emitted could send prickles down the spines of even the most musically unenthused. And the selection of chill trap music didn’t offend. In fact, it set the mood for the start of the evening rather well. Not many words were said between the two until the interior of the cabin was thoroughly warmed except in complaint; mostly coming from Sean, and rightfully so. When his muscles relaxed themselves, he let his body lean back in his seat which was equipped with a warmer itself.

“God, I could stand to live like this every day,” Sean said after a long sigh. He let a smile creep up the corners of his lips as he adjusted his seat back a ways. “It must be nice to have this much access to heat.”

“If I like you as much as I think I will, I’m pretty sure that’s not going to be a problem,” Dustin said as he looked over with a smirk.

It took them about twenty-five minutes to reach Dustin’s apartment complex, and it was huge. There had to be twenty buildings there, all looking relatively the same and like they were built within the last five years. The design was modern and slightly more upscale than Sean had ever been used to. Dustin parked in an underground garage that sat nicely under the building and headed towards the center of the construct to an elevator. While he waited for a car, he smirked in Sean’s direction. Sean didn’t notice it at the time, but he looked nervous for whatever reason.

“There’s no reason to worry about anything,” Dustin said calmly, giving Sean a small pat on the back as the elevator bell dinged.

They went in, and before he knew it, Sean was led to Dustin’s apartment. The door unlocked to a paradise of warmth and inviting earth tones. The moment he pierced the veil of heat, Sean started to feel drowsy. He staggered for a moment when he passed over the threshold and Dustin noticed.

“Whoa there,” Dustin said as he caught Sean by the arm and stood him back upright. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Sean said as he shook his head back and forth to bring some blood back to it. “I just feel a little sleepy.”

“The bedroom is just through the back,” Dustin offered, pointing in the general direction of where he was referring. “Would you like to rest for a while?”

Sean would have said yes, but his manhood had other plans. It seemed that the heat he experienced had another side effect to it.

“In a while,” Sean said as he looked to Dustin with a small sheepish smile. “It seems that I want to sleep and stay awake at the same time.”

“The bedroom has it’s many uses,” Dustin said in a low, seductive tone, an even bigger grin pulled at one of the corners of his lips. “I’m sure I’ll be able to accommodate you regardless.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Sean said as they both headed for the bedroom.

It was said that the Vikings of the Nordic countries loved to pleasure one another with such a ferocity, but at the same time, with such passion and care. That was how Dustin decided to pleasure Sean, after some preparation, of course.

There were a few things that Dustin was aware of when it came to pleasuring another man, most of which he learned through experimentation on himself and the occasional gay whore. Nipples were incredibly sensitive, a slight squeeze would send the dirtiest messages. The nerves around the ear sent shivers down a man’s spine when played with correctly. Scratching wasn’t necessary, but the action in and of itself was very much a turn on as long as skin wasn’t broken. Kiss the neck and blood will start to flow over the floodgates. And that only the tip was necessary, but the shaft liked attention as well.

Very soon, Sean was on cloud nine. Dustin was so intrigued by the man that he pulled out all the stops to figure out what made Sean’s head swim. Soon, Sean was begging to be violated.

“Come on,” Sean whined as Dustin licked Sean’s torso from navel to collarbone, all with a smirk on his face. “This is torture…”

“You’re torture,” Dustin replied. The response was childish, but the way he said it was so very sensual.

“Ahh…” Sean softly moaned. “Can’t you just fuck me and get it over with? My body can only stand so much.”

“Patience, dear one,” Dustin replied. He looked at Sean’s blushing face with such cool composure. “The time for that will come soon. For now, I need proper stimulation.”

“Please…?” Sean begged the younger man in an almost effeminate voice. “I want to come so badly.”

“And you will get your chance,” Dustin replied as he started to strip what clothes Sean had on off of him.

Sean was so eager to have his body intruded upon that he started helping Dustin disrobe him. Then Dustin had an idea…

“Let’s get in the bathtub,” Dustin said in an almost giddy way as he rolled over to the edge of the bed. Dustin slipped his regularly pedicured feet off of the end and stood up, then turned to offer Sean a hand to get up.

“Do I smell that bad?” Sean asked, slightly offended, as he reached for the hand extended to him.

“No!” Dustin replied, pulling up on Sean’s hand to sit the man up. “But you should get a bath every now and then. Anyway, I figured warm water would be warmer and you could soak to your heart’s content.”

“That actually does sound like a pretty good idea,” Sean said as he thought about it. They headed to the bathroom and Dustin drew the bath, adding some essential oils and scented salts to the warm water.

Sean stepped in and let the water clothe him in warmth in its transparency. Of course, some strategically placed bubbles would have certainly left the mind to wonder just how big Sean’s manhood was.

Dustin stripped himself down to his bare skin and entered the tub from the other side, then he had another idea.

“Care for some wine?” Dustin asked Sean as he stepped out of the tub just as soon as he got in to grab a towel.

“Trying to make me an easy lay?” Sean joked in response. Dustin chuckled and looked away slightly before turning his gaze back on Sean for an answer. “Sure, I’m a red kind of man, myself.”

A few minutes later, Dustin reappeared with two glasses of wine, one red and one white, and handed the red to Sean before removing his towel to step back in. Sean took a few sips from his glass and set it down on the floor beside the tub, then laid back as much as the tub would allow for. His mind wandered to the golden halls of Asgard where the Gods of Old wined and dined to their heart’s content.

Dustin did quite the same thing just before making his way over to Sean’s side of the tub, his eyes were lit up like the sun that shone over a field of sunflowers that swayed in the breeze on a summer day. One of Dustin’s hands found its way to Sean’s cheek to stir him from his dream. Sean felt the hand and looked up to see Dustin’s serene features. He couldn’t help but feel entranced by the beauty he beheld.

The next moment, Dustin was taking a hold of Sean’s legs and bringing them closer to his nether region. But before he could continue, he needed to test the waters. Dustin took two fingers to see how pliable Sean’s hole was, at the same time, his other hand was occupied with teasing Sean’s manhood. Small beads of precum started to eek and mix with the bathwater.

When he was satisfied with the conditions, Dustin pulled his fingers out and pressed his erect length into Sean’s tight space. The sensations were almost too immense for words, but Dustin had no qualms with making it known just how good they felt. His face looked like he was glazed over from highest high after doing a shot of some high quality heroin. Sean noticed, but only barely.

Sean was trying to get himself used to being violated like he was for the first time. Every other time he had sex with men, he was the dominant, the one on top. The notion of him being on bottom was new, it was odd, but he wasn’t complaining. He started making his voice heard when it started to feel good. But it wasn’t the mere motion of in and out that did it for him, it was the look on Dustin’s face. Somehow, it willed the serotonin levels in his body to rise and adapt to this new situation.

Deeper and deeper, Dustin drove himself in. The waters around them sloshed about, some of it managing to invade their wine glasses. Sean was a little unsure of what to do with his hands, and defaulted to having them grip the sides of the marble tub. Everything started to build to its peak as Sean’s back began to arch. Dustin backed off a little, but gained speed in his movements.

From the sheer pleasure of it all, Sean released moments before Dustin had a chance to. When Dustin came, everything quieted down and the water became still.

“Why me?” Sean asked when he had the chance to calm himself down. “You had your choice of the world and you chose me. Why?”

“It really wasn’t a choice,” Dustin replied, still panting a little as he made it back to his side of the tub. A telling smirk played at his lips. “Something about you spoke to me. I thought you were interesting.”

“It’s still weird that you chose a homeless man over every suit in the business world,” Sean admitted as he brushed some hair out of his face.

“Because it was never an issue about money,” Dustin said as he took up his wine glass. He took a sip from it and realized that it didn’t taste right, then put it back down. “I went into this fully ready to give any man that captivated me like that the whole world.”

Sean was quite beside himself at that point.

 

After their evening escapades, Sean found himself with more energy than he had when he entered the apartment. Dustin was lucky to get an apartment with a master bedroom with more than just a view. The ethereal light of the moon shone through a skylight that covered half of the ceiling. Sean and Dustin found themselves on the bed covered in nothing but scented water and towels. Neither of them cared if the blankets and sheets got wet from any sort of liquid that dripped from their skin, bodily or otherwise.

It was one of those instances where a single drop of sticky white fluid was hanging by a thread from where Sean released which didn’t quite wash off. It might have been that he leaked a little after getting out of the tub, but the towel would have whisked it away. It could have also been a result of what they were doing at the moment.

Sean and Dustin had their lips locked in a sort of battle to see who could kiss deeper. Their chests held a certain magnetism to one another, because they couldn’t stop touching. Their tongues danced a waltz of a thousand years as the stars watched on in delight.

~Fin~

FANFIC – Free! Bathtub Dreams

Summertime had made its rounds in Iwatobi once more. The year that the sweltering heat had fallen upon the shoreline city was, at that point irrelevant. It was after Makoto and Haruka had graduated from Iwatobi High School and was well into Makoto’s first year of college. The heat and humidity must have been engaging in one hell of an orgy the day Makoto decided to visit Haruka’s residence, because the air had a noticeable rippling effect no matter how much someone tried to hide from the intruding rays of the sun.

Makoto checked Haru’s front door and noticed that it was unlocked…again. In his mind, Makoto wondered if Haru ever had any concern for his safety or privacy.

“I’m coming in!” Makoto shouted as he slid open the solid wooden door and stepped out of one of his shoes to enter. The other shoe wasn’t so willing to detach itself from his foot. It took two fingers and a bit more force than it took to crack open a walnut before he realized that he could have just untied his laces. At that point, it was a little late. His shoes were off and his feet touched the wooden floor.

There was no response from Haruka. He must have been in the bathroom soaking again. Makoto padded his way to where Haruka always was and knocked briefly before barging in.

“I’m coming–” Makoto said before taking in the fact that Haru wasn’t wearing his speedo like usual. In fact, Haru was sitting in the tub, not wearing anything at all.

Haru looked in his direction, slightly surprised, but still keeping to his signature slightly unamused expression. He had nothing to say to this. He wasn’t very happy about being barged in on by his friend, but he didn’t complain about it either.

In that moment, Makoto had a choice; he could very casually excuse himself from the room and wait until Haru was done bathing, or he could do something about the raging hard-on that was building in his pants.

First, he had to put his stuff down.

Looking down at his side, Makoto realized that his gym bag was still slung around his shoulder, and the bathroom wasn’t the best place to drop his stuff because of the wet floor.

“Could you…excuse me for a moment?” Makoto asked as he backed away from the Haru and through the bathroom door before closing it.

As he headed to the couch, every single dirty thought imaginable surfaced to the forefront of his thought processes. Setting his bag down, Makoto warred in his mind whether he would try to sex up the one person he considered his best friend, or to just sit down. His mind said sit down, but his body told him, “You need to do something about this…”

Makoto fancied a look at his groin area and sighed. His member had indeed pitched a tent in his pants and was going to camp out there until he either ran a hand over it or shoved it up something warm, sticky, and form-fitting. In his mind, Haruka was looking pretty delicious at that point. Could anyone really blame him?

Haruka on the other hand didn’t think so much about Makoto seeing him that way. They were both boys. But he remembered the blush that surfaced on Makoto’s cheeks, and for once in his nineteen years of trying to look cool in front of everyone, even the water he liked so much, a small smile pulled at the corner of his lips.

Makoto had found his way back to the bathroom door and announced once again that he was coming in. Before the door was shut after walking in, he pulled up on the bottom of the t-shirt he was wearing and over his head, it flew, landing on the floor behind him.

Before he knew it, Makoto was at the edge of Haru’s bathtub completely naked. He had left a trail of clothes behind him.

Haruka was rightfully confused, but didn’t budge an inch from where he was sitting.

Makoto didn’t ask to come in, he just stepped into the bathtub one foot at a time. The water was cool, perfect for a day like that day. He folded up his legs so he wouldn’t take up so much room.

Haruka folded up his own legs, trying to let everything process. Why hadn’t he gotten out at that point? The answer to that question was quite absent from his mind. He would have, at the very least, protested somewhat. Did he just not care? Or did he want this?

Makoto let his legs slip underneath him, advancing ever so slowly towards where Haruka sat, and placed a hand on one of Haru’s legs, pushing it to the side. His other hand had reached into the surface of the water for Haruka’s length to stroke it. As he did so, he felt Haru’s member harden.

Haruka wasn’t really willing to admit that he liked it, but it was true. His breath started to quicken, his back arched a little, forcing his chest towards the man that was doing this to him. His nipples begging to be tortured.

Makoto saw that Haru was responding to what he was doing well. He wasn’t sure if the reaction he got was consent to do more or what, at that point, he didn’t quite care.

The hand that was on Haru’s leg pushed it even farther to the side, so much so that his knee hit the wall of the tub. Makoto then removed that hand and into the water it dove, a few of its fingers reaching underneath Haru’s buttocks and into the hole that divided them. It wasn’t long until that hole was loosened up.

Haruka wasn’t necessarily thrilled that Makoto’s fingers were up his ass, but he didn’t pay it any mind because he was busy enjoying what Makoto was doing to his cock.

The next moment, Makoto was taking a firm hold under Haru’s legs, pulling them closer to him. Haru had to hold onto the edges of the tub to keep himself sitting up. Just before Makoto could enter Haru, everything changed.

It was dark outside and snow had begun to fall beyond the glass pane of his window. The area around his crotch felt a little wet.

“Again?” Makoto asked himself as he lifted up the covers of his bed and sighed to himself. It didn’t matter anyway, he was going to join the others for a Christmas party a little later on.

The Iwatobi Swim Club gathered at a restaurant that served as a halfway point between Iwatobi and Tokyo for Makoto’s sake. Nagisa was his usual peppy self around Rei since they started dating. Nagisa even went as far as to show everyone their promise rings.

Makoto was genuinely jealous of Nagisa and Rei, but admitted that they looked good together. He looked to Haru who instinctively looked back with his usual blank stare. But Haru kept back the feelings he had to retain his normality.

Haru looked down then handed Makoto a wrapped box which Mako looked curiously at, but took anyway and unwrapped. It was a small box that opened to a ring.

“What’s this?” Makoto asked.

“There’s something else in there,” Haruka answered, his eyes darting to the opened box and back again.

Makoto looked again and saw a small folded note in the lid of the box. He took it and opened it to read. “Please go out with me,” it read. Makoto looked up at Haruka in surprise and smiled wide.

Haruka looked embarrassed as he looked away, but he couldn’t hide the obvious blush that turned his cheeks the cutest scarlet hue.

“Of course I’ll go out with you,” Makoto replied with the hugest grin on his face.

“Thanks,” Haruka said in his very “timid in a Haru way” voice. 

“You just made my dream come true,” Makoto whispered into Haruka’s ear as he was pulled into a hug.

~Fin~

Love is Irrational

Here is the story that didn’t make it into the Yaoicon anthology. Maybe someone else will like it.

—————-

Matthew had to be the most infuriating roommate I’ve ever had the displeasure of living with. It didn’t matter that he hardly ever showered, but he left battle zones of food debris, cutlery, and dishes I could only describe as coated with I don’t know what. And this louse couldn’t be kicked out if we wanted him to because he was Byron’s brother, and Byron was the one that signed for the house. Out of the four guys that lived there, it would take the three of us who gave a shit about what the place looked like when company would come over to clean up after that slob, and the idiocy didn’t stop there.

Not only was he the laziest tenant of the house, he was the rudest too. To say he was in contention for the “Douchebag of the Year Award” wouldn’t be too far from the truth when he was the only one trying. When girls were over, he would be so nice to everyone, but when the day came to a close and guests returned to their living arrangements, he would take control of the only TV in the house that had cable watching nothing but sports. Now, normally sports would be acceptable commonplace in a house full of guys, except that the rest of us were creative types who would rather have something else on entirely. Everyone knew me as the gay artist with paint as my medium, nude males being my muses. Dean was a photographer, his Nikon D3300 being an extension of his right arm, women and nature were his muses. Byron was a writer, spinning science fiction stories for television series being his passion, and he was quite good at it too. Matthew however, was a jobless bum, eating everyone’s food and acting a drama queen when someone threatened his position in the house. Everyone paid for rent, utilities, Internet, cable, everyone but Matt. He would leave lights on, his computer (the one Byron paid for) would be running games constantly and he wondered why we constantly got in shouting matches with him. It got to a point where I decided to ignore him altogether because he just wasn’t worth the fucks I could give.

I’ll have to admit that he was good looking, the way his honey-brown hair cropped just right and sky-blue eyes would have commanded my interest if it weren’t for his piss poor personality. How Byron was able to put up with this kid, I will never know. But his body was so nicely toned, muscles curved in all the right places even though I’ve never seen him workout. His clothes were never my cup of tea, but the way they looked on his body made me curious to see how they would look on the floor. The thoughts of how he pisses everyone off still stave off how delicious he looked, end of story.

It was midday on a Saturday, I could clearly remember it because I was watching one of the newest episodes of a show Byron wrote for, “Advent Rising” just before I released all the tension that had been collecting in the deepest pits of my soul. Matt had been commenting on everything that was wrong with the story arch that had been continuing in the episode, and I was just trying to watch it in goddamn peace. There were few moments where I broke my vow of silence, and this was one of them.

“Dude, can you shut the fuck up so I can watch this? I happen to like this show,” I shot at him, hoping he would just leave the room so he could be a dick somewhere else, but being true to form, he sat up and defended himself.

“Oh, so you don’t care about my opinion? You just out to throw me out of the house, so you’ll find any little excuse you can to be pissed off at me. What do you want me to do? Pose for you butt ass naked for one of your paintings then fuck you afterward? Is that what I have to do to get you to like me?” By the time he finished, I had already risen to my feet ready to take up a fistful of his shirt so I could bring him to my level. Slowly I approached him as he continued to shoot off his mouth, fingers closing in on themselves. I didn’t care what Byron was going to think when he got home and saw the bruises, this was waiting to happen. Matt wasn’t going to listen to words, so I thought I would let my fists do the talking. His eyes widened as I swiped up some of his shirt, his face coming within two centimeters of mine. A rage lit up my eyes, you could almost see the irises turn a glowing scarlet red. My mind turned animal, it showed through the snarling emanating from my flaring nostrils. Without a moment’s hesitation, I wrenched him away from me to put some distance between us and threw the swing which connected with his cheek. He would always egg on the others to fight with him, but he never thought they would oblige him because his brother would “throw them out”. The look on his face when I proved him wrong was priceless; tears flowing down his cheeks, snot dripping onto his lips, and the most pathetic look of despair I’ve ever seen.

“Now that that’s out of my system, here is what you can do to secure a place around here. Do shit. Clean up after yourself. Respect the people who pay for you to live here. Stop being such a douchebag. And stop being so fucking beautiful…” I couldn’t hold my passions in either. I had to explore those lips of his, and I did so without a moment’s notice. My mind transitioned back to its animalistic state, but he was dealing with a different beast this time. I had to take him then and there, there was no stopping me. The fist that still had the collar of his shirt wrapped within its folds was sliding down his chest to dig its fingers under the hem to lift the bottom over his head. I had to see his curves, feel the touch of his ivory skin, torture his nipples with my tongue. I needed to ram my dick into his tight ass and wrap my fingers around his raging hard-on for me. I needed to read my name on his lips in low seductive tones and in high pitched screams. The moment I broke the kiss with him, I was expecting a complaint, but instead received assistance with the removal of his shirt and mine. We started ripping off pants and shorts, shoes and sandals, briefs…

He gave me his full trust because he probably figured I knew what I was doing, and I did. I gave him the best possible experience with a gay man one could expect, taking all the necessary precautions so that his trust wasn’t wrongfully placed. When Byron got home, he found our clothes on the couch, but we were no where in sight. We had moved our little act of copulation to the comfort of my bed and in between the soft jersey sheets. He gave my door a little knock.

“You guys okay in there?” He asked cautiously.

“Yep,” I replied back through the door.

“Okay, just uh…make sure you get your clothes, some of my buddies will be here later.”

“Sure thing, man,” I told him as I heard his footsteps fade into the distance before going back to my little reformed asshole. We were opening up about the reasoning for his bad behavior. “All I want is for you to be nice from now on and do things for other people, that’s all.” Matt nodded to me with the most serious look on his face, then smiled before fitting himself back into my arms. That night after the guests were gone, Matt apologized to everyone for being the little shit he was. All they could do was sit there shocked before looking to me wearing that knowing smile. I was proud of him for manning up for his actions, and even more proud of him for keeping his word. He helped out around the house more, and in return, I would reward him with kisses and nights spent in my bed. I even captured his image on my canvas, the whole time wearing the goofiest of smiles. He was such a good sport, keeping his pose as still as possible. I hung the finished work in my studio for my private collection, never to be sold. Many people offered to buy it from me for insane amounts of money, but I would always refuse. His image would be mine and mine alone, a masterpiece fitting for the name Sam Avery.

 

~Fin~

Should I give up so soon?

Writing, for me, has become somewhat of a lifestyle choice I made recently. But the unfortunate thing about becoming someone that writes for a living is that I can be, and oftentimes am, incredibly impatient. I do my best to make sure something gets noticed, but it often falls on deaf ears and I become discouraged. I also get a plethora of reasons why my writing isn’t good. I published a manuscript too soon without letting it culminate for a little while, the stories I write are a little background heavy, there’s not enough balance. I try to adjust, but when I make something better, it seems like my past failures sneak up on me and I loose credibility. All this brings me back to a simple question:

Will I ever be good at anything?

I love to sing, and I can be quite good at it, but most bands that look for members would rather I play an instrument instead. I love to act, but I just don’t have the right look or the personality they need for a part. I try making art, but it’s time consuming and frustrating to learn. I want to be able to play an instrument, but I can never devote enough time to practice because I’m one of those kings of procrastination.

Singing comes easy to me, but long ago, my family made it clear that my voice would never pay my bills, no matter how good I was at it. I was told by a vocal coach that he would take me on after I did a Karaoke recording at Hershey Park. Would that be enough to make me pack up everything to pursue a professional career? Probably not. It would be nice though.

I’m told over and over that my stories are good, but when I try to get a leg up from the people who professionally published one of my stories, I get the cold shoulder. I’m scared to ask what I’m doing wrong, afraid that I’ll sound like I’m whining like a little child if I ask why they don’t. This has been slowly eating away at me for the past few months or so, and I know that if I don’t do something about it soon, it will devour me from the inside. I usually do bold things, but then I’m seen as a little shit, making trouble everywhere. I’m trying to be cautious, but is it worth feeling worthless for the rest of my life? Gods, I hate my base code programming…

Your fading corporal being,

~James

[Insert Rant Title Here]

It seems that nowadays people don’t care about how good a person’s writing is as long as the story is good. In the eyes of a publisher, the writing has to be pristine or at least close to it. This is the upside to publishing with a team of professionals, your work looks aesthetic to the eyes. The only downside to the process is that you have to wait forever and a day before you can see and touch your work. What I’ve learned with self-publishing is that you can let others read your work for an honest price, the upside to publishing yourself, but there will most likely be rookie mistakes that could have been caught by a professional editorial staff, the downside.

So, why can’t dealing with a small publishing company go smoother? Because in the grand scheme of things, they don’t care about how determined you are at being a better writer, all they care about is getting their own work out there. Or, at least that’s how it looks.

Sometimes I wonder why I try to put my own opinions out there, hardly anyone reads them anyway. If I put them on my Facebook, someone is going to criticize me for them. It doesn’t matter how many times I repurpose myself, no one is going to care. I suppose if I attach a suicide threat to this rant, someone would respond, but I promised myself I would never go back to that dark place. All I’ve wanted was for someone to notice me for something good I did, but that would entail my doing something good in the first place. I am simply unsure of what I’m doing wrong. In this society where original thoughts and creations are so few and far between, what is left for the struggling to hold bring into the fold?

I’m starting to think I actually do have the power of invisibility. No one notices me, no one wants to deal with my shit, and fewer people seem to want to care. I might as well start my days in the fetal position in bracing myself for the next wave of kicks to my stomach, because it’s not getting any better. I’ve never dealt with much brutal adversity, just my own struggle to be noticed and liked by someone who doesn’t already know me.

Moral of the story, I’m clearly not relevant and no one will tell me why. If there was some magical formula for getting someone’s attention, I haven’t found it yet and I don’t have the money to obtain it. All I can do is sit in my little corner and play with my toy typewriter day in and day out trying to find a better way to get two boys to kiss and fuck. I’m always told to be patient, but my patience wears thinner by the day. I can only do so much to bide my time. I would ask others what I should do, but I’m not sure I’ll get a definitive answer. Is going on worth it if the mistakes pile up?

Your Ghost Ship Captain to Nowhere,
~James

IMG_0060

Not That Kind of Happy Ending

Source: http://www.zerochan.net/1452830

The morning started like any other, I woke up in my empty bed covered in red sheets and black covers which totally described how my love life was going… At heart, I have always been a romantic, but I had no one else to share it with, so I was in a bit of a dark place. The thought of finishing the day with another man in between those sheets crossed my mind, but seemed too good to be true. My past dates have always ended the same, each man I had been a total gentleman with telling me that I was too perfect and that they didn’t deserve me. How does that happen? Walking across the beige carpet to the smooth tile that had been my kitchen floor, I came in contact with the coffee maker to mix the serum of life that had kept me going thus far. Standing there half naked in my navy blue boxer briefs, I contemplated how meaningful my life as a massage therapist would be, all these skill to get a man but having nothing to show for it.

Waiting for the coffee to brew, I pulled out one of my clean black polyester polo shirts, looking at it with utter distaste because not only did it feel odd against my skin, it looked ugly when it was on me. It was too big because all the other one’s were too short and my boss had a thing about shirts being tucked into ghastly khaki pants. I was one of two men that worked at TNK, an upscale business that offered just about any kind of beauty and bodywork service you can think of. You would think for such a place in the epicenter of New York City that they would have more stylish, form fitting uniforms for their therapists. The one thing I could control during my 30 minute walk to the establishment was what I could wear over my uniform, a traditional naval peacoat my father passed down to me before he died. Of all the things he possessed, that was the one thing of his I always wanted and treasured after his heart attack during a vacation while he was fishing. He was so enamored with the seas, it seemed fitting he would go in the middle of a lake waiting for his prized catch.

Opening the employee entrance door to the business, a glorified way of saying the disgusting back door, some of the beauty technicians greeted me with warm smiles and then the usual telling look of “He’s not gonna get any tonight just ‘cuz he’s gay”, I put on my best smile waiting for word of who my next client will be. The place catered to mostly rich housewives and brides-to-be, and it was a very rare occurrence that a male client would find himself on my table for some relaxing Swedish Massage, so I didn’t get my hopes up. I was a commission based therapist, so my room was paid for by the cut my boss got, which was nice because I got to design it the way I wanted. The walls were covered in recreated Rococo era decorum accented in rich golds and scarlet hues to create the royal treatment experience. Jeanette, our receptionist, handed me a folded up sheet of copy paper between delicately manicured fingers. Between the folds was my schedule for the day consisting of a few returning clients, a few new ones, and one that struck my interest. The last one for the day was a gentleman by the name of Derek Richards. Most of that day, I imagined how this man would look, even through the droning conversation of gifts of diamond necklaces and how amazing others’ fiance’s are and how good they’re going to look in their tuxedos. I fashioned an image of what this man would probably look like, dark hair to contrast my blonde, green eyes to meet my blue, a slightly less toned body but with curves like you wouldn’t believe. I kept the image in my head and looked it over during my lunch break and it would have been so much more enjoyable had I been alone…

“Chase, were you thinking about Ryan Gosling again?” Becca giggled before she asked, pointing to the obvious bulge in my pants. Everyone who worked there knew I was gay, because when juicy news gets out, all the girls have to gossip.

“What gave you that idea?” I joked with her, the blood rushing to my cheeks while my head lowered and the corners of my lips curling upwards in a sheepish smile.

“A little birdie told me.” She chuckled while brushing back her dyed red hair, tucking it behind an ear. She was one of the only people who saw me as a person and not just another hot gay man, so I got along well with her because of that. She even volunteered to be my personal hairdresser, cropping my hair just so and dying the hair on the entire lower half of my head a honey brown color.

“To be honest, I was thinking of my last client for the day. His name peaked my interest and I can’t stop thinking about him. I know it seems silly to fantasize about a name, but I just can’t help myself. My love life sucks, so a guy can only hope for something good to happen.” Becca could only offer a soft smile and a pat of her hand on mine.

“I hope things go well for you, regardless.” She told me before heading out to meet with her next hair appointment.

When I finally saw him, he didn’t quite fit the image in my head, but he certainly met my expectations. His brunette hair was nicely cropped short and well groomed behind the ears, his body was well toned with the curves I love so much on a man, but the question of his possible interest in me was still left to be answered. I performed the usual song and dance that was required before all appointments on my table.

“Good afternoon, my name is Chase and I’ll be your therapist during this session. I’ll be performing relaxing full body Swedish Massage on you, so if at any time you feel uncomfortable with anything I’m doing, please let me know. Also, if there is anything you’d like me to pay attention to, let me know as well.” I shook his hand before continuing, waiting for a response from him, but he only nodded his head and gave me a smile. “If you’ll please remove all your clothing except for your undergarments, I’ll be back in a few moments while you do that. I’d like to start with you laying on your back.” He nodded before I walked out of the room to wash my hands and force back the urge to rip off his pants for him.

I reentered the room to find him on my table, eyes closed and looking so serene. I almost asked him what he was doing at a place like this, but I didn’t want to look a gift horse in the mouth. Taking some oil from the dispenser hanging from my hip in a little pouch, I rubbed my hands together in preparation before touching his skin. God, his skin was so soft and pliable underneath my fingers. I started with some basic effleurage, a way we therapists rub oil or lotion on the client before we start any bodywork. I could almost hear some soft moans leave his lips as my fingers glided over his skin, transitioning into the first of many ministrations that spanned the session. Working his neck first, his muscles were slightly tense, but they were strong. I would envision my lips brushing the skin over those muscles ever so slightly. Hand over hand on his shoulders would make for the next ministration, my teeth sinking into those shoulders would make its way to my eyes. Arms with biceps and triceps connected to pectorals by ligaments and bone, all of it was mine to work, mine to touch.

I had suffered through the entire process in silence with the thought that all these images flooding through my head may never come to fruition, but it was nice to dream. The session was filled with massage under my fingertips and sex in my head, all while trying to hide the fact I was getting harder every time my fingers touched his skin. It got to a point where my cock literally hurt when it touched anything, even the lining of my cotton boxer briefs. When we finished, I knew I would probably never see him again after walking out of the room to let him dress. I went back to the break room to wash my hands in the sink trying not to let the ladies in there see the tears that trickled over my features. It was such an unimpressionable experience for him, I was willing to bet anything on it. Taking a paper towel from the roll, I wiped off my hands and my face hoping no traces were left behind as I walked back to my room with what dignity I had left. I knocked on the door to see if he was still in, but with no response, I let myself to find him gone. On the table where his head was moments ago was a folded up piece of paper, my name scribed on the outside of it.

I opened the note to find a phone number and a message.

“Text, don’t call. -Derek”

Next to his name was a delicately drawn heart. He probably did that with all the guys he was interested in, but I didn’t care. I placed the note to my chest, wrapping my arms around it before depositing it into my pocket, freeing up my hands to strip the table of the blanket and sheets for laundering. That evening, I checked in with the receptionist to clock out and headed out with the dorkiest of grins on my face. Walking home, I pulled out my phone and texted the number, introducing myself to him once more. He texted back voicing his pleasure in the fact that I found his note and apologized for remaining silent during the appointment.

“I just didn’t know what to say to you.” He texted me with a sad face emoji.

“Don’t worry about it, I wasn’t sure what to say either.” My thumbs tapped away at the screen of my phone at lightning speed in reply to his messages.

“Do you think you would want to go out for some coffee with me?” His responses came just as quickly as mine.

“Sure!” My eyes lit up from the light of the screen, joy filling me to the brim.

“Okay! Meet me at the Starlight Cafe on Fifth and Main.” This time he texted me with a happy face emoji along with a few hearts.

My head was swimming with images of what life would be like with him, constant smiles and ice cream surrounded my world. That night, I found him in my bed, sharing idle conversation with me, totally stark naked after some of the best sex I had had in my life. I knew from then on, we wouldn’t have a fairy-tale ending, but that one was certainly perfect.

~Fin~

Any feedback you leave is well appreciated. I am always looking to improve my craft, so leave a comment if you find something wrong with this story or even if you loved it. Thanks and have a great day.

~James