Only You

by Jerry Cole

  He handed Bradley the joint and Bradley took it gingerly. It was silly, but this was his first time ever smoking weed and although he wasn’t embarrassed by that fact, for some reason he thought he should be. Sherman looked so cool and collected smoking, like an old pro. The last thing Bradley wanted to do was make a fool of himself.

  But that just raised another question. Why did Bradley even care? If this were the real world, he wouldn’t have looked twice at Sherman, yet for some reason he found himself caring what the man thought of him.

  “What?” Sherman asked when Bradley didn’t take a hit of the joint. “Have you never... is this your first time?”

  “No,” Bradley had said quickly. “It’s just been a while.” He then quickly shoved the end of the joint between his lips, took in a huge drag and nearly spewed up his lungs.

  “I thought you actors smoked weed all the time?” As Bradley coughed and choked, Sherman slapped him on the back a few times.

  “They do – we do, I mean.” A few more deep coughs to clear out the phlegm. “Just not me... never really got into drugs.”

  Sherman took the joint and had another long, satisfied drag. “Good,” he said. “This stuff will kill you.” Then he winked.

  Maybe it was the weed talking, but it was around this point that Bradley started to feel panicked. When he had met Sherman, he decided to lie about what he did for a living... or at least exaggerate it, a lot. He had told Sherman that he was a working actor, making it seem like he had worked on countless projects. He also told him he lived in Melbourne, but failed to mention it was with his mother.

  Basically, Bradley had lied about who he was, and where that shouldn’t have been a problem seeing as he would never see Sherman again after this, for some reason he was feeling as if it were. He felt guilty, like he owed Sherman the truth. And most of all, he worried what Sherman would say if he found out.

  He tried to ignore it. He tried to tell himself that it didn’t matter because this was just a vacation and Sherman should have just been grateful to be hanging out with him, and who cared what he thought of him. But none of that helped whatsoever. Bradley had lied to someone he was starting to develop feelings for and it was eating away at him.

  They remained in the park alone for another hour or so. Sherman smoked most of the joint, while Bradley had one or two more puffs. Some of that hour was spent in silence, with the two men staring at the night sky and basking in the ambience. Some of it was spent in conversation, juts bits and pieces as they detailed what the rest of their month was going to look like here in Europe. And the rest? Well, it was spent by two men, previously strangers, now friends, enjoying one another’s company like neither could believe.

  Bradley had never been stoned before, so he wasn’t sure if the moment that transpired later at his B&B’s front door was awkward, or it was just the weed.

  “Here I am,” Bradley had said when they reached the closed front door. It was closing in on midnight, so not late, but not early either.

  “Here we are,” Sherman had corrected. His eyes were bloodshot red, his cheeks were flushed and he wore a silly grin that he seemed incapable of getting rid of.

  “Right. We.” Bradley matched Sherman’s grin with his own cheesy one. “We are here.” And then, for no real reason, because what the two men said certainly wasn’t funny, they burst into hysterics.

  For several moments, they stood in front of that closed door, facing one another, inches apart really, giggling like schoolboys. A few people walked past in the time too, eyeing them like they were crazy people.

  When they did calm down, it was Sherman that spoke first. “Breakfast is tomorrow? – I mean, are we still having it. Like... at the same time? Fuck, I am high.” He had then flushed furiously.

  It was lucky that Bradley hadn’t really been paying attention. His mind had just sought of wandered, so all he had heard was breakfast. “Hhhmmm? Yeah, tomorrow.” A pause and a chuckle. “You’re lucky. Usually, I’d insist on breakfast in bed.” He wasn’t even sure what that meant.

  “Huh...” Sherman had looked about as confused as a person ever had.

  Bradley’s eye bulged when he realized how that must have sounded. “Oh, I didn’t mean – like, I wasn’t saying that you should... I was just trying to be – so. See you tomorrow?”

  The conversation had ended quickly after that. They’d already made plans to have a farewell breakfast the next morning at eight, so there was no real need to reconfirm. If they had tried again, surely something else embarrassing would have come out. So, Bradley was quick to say his goodbyes and get inside.

  That night, Bradley had masturbated to Sherman. It hadn’t been on purpose. He’d had an image of Jackson in his mind, on his knees, sucking his cock while apologizing for leaving him... but then Sherman suddenly replaced him. Bradley tried to get him out, but he refused to leave. He ordered him to go, begged even. But Sherman wasn’t having it. So eventually, Bradley just gave in and had a glorious orgasm over the image of Sherman bent over in front of him, taking his load.

  He couldn’t understand it. He wasn’t attracted to Sherman like that. Not at all. If one were to make a list of all the men he had been with, and rank them physically, Sherman would be so low on it that he might not even make the list. A separate one would have to be created! And yet there was an attraction there that had Bradley confused beyond measure.

  In the end, he decided that it didn’t really matter. He liked Sherman as a person, as a friend, and that was where the attraction lay. It wasn’t physical, it was friendly and that incident with his popping up mid-wank was just a spillover from that. Besides, even if he was into Sherman, tomorrow after breakfast the two were leaving Amsterdam for good and going their separate ways. They’d never see one another again.

  The next morning, everything changed.

  Bradley had slept in, most likely on account of his fitful night thinking about Sherman. It was because of this that he was still in the shower when Sherman arrived. He had to jump out, wrap himself in a towel and hurry down the stairs to let him in. He was soaking wet too, not having had time to dry himself.

  “Sorry!” The second Bradley had opened the door he turned and sprinted back up the stairs. “I’ll be quick!”

  “Don’t rush on my acc —” Sherman had started to shout before Bradley had disappeared back into his room.

  He was quick to dry himself in the bathroom. As he did so, he heard Sherman enter the room. He heard the bed creak as Sherman took a seat on the edge. And he felt his cock stiffen slightly as he took note of the scenario he had unwittingly put himself in.

  “Just a sec!” he called out. He slapped at his penis, willing the darn thing to do down! It only made it harder.

  “All good! I’ll be here!”

  “Come on...” he hissed at his cock. “Go down...” It was no good. The more he willed it, the harder it became. Soon he had a full-on erection, and it was going nowhere.

  With no other option, and thinking quickly, Bradley attempted a quick rush to his wardrobe so as to put on some tight jocks and try and cover the thing. The towel was wrapped around him, his hand was covering his penis, and he flew from the bathroom to the wardrobe. He didn’t look at Sherman – who sat less than three feet away — instead going for a pair of red jocks that lay on top his suitcase. If he could just —

  “Nice boner.”

  “Huh?!

  Bradley spun around, accidentally let go of his towel and before he knew it, he was standing buck naked in front of Sherman, cock as hard as it had ever been.

  “Fuck!” Bradley half made to cover his throbbing member... but only half. As he moved to push it down, he caught sight of Sherman, eyes bulging at it like a dog after a bone. “Sorry.”

  “It’s fine.” Sherman half chuckled. He looked from the penis to Bradley, smirking as he did so. “What happened? Didn’t jerk off last night or something?

  “Ah... actually...” Bradley was only too aware of what was going on and where t
his was leading. But he also wasn’t sure if it was just because of how hard he was, that maybe he was reading too much into it?

  He took a step closer to Sherman, his hands now by his side.

  “Actually, what?” Sherman had pressed. He seemed to be reading the mood of the room now. His eyes stayed trained on Bradley’s dick, watching it like it was a snake about to pounce.

  “Actually, I did ah... jerk off last night.” A deep breath, a surge of adrenaline and, “Over you.”

  Sherman’s face dropped, but then he quickly recovered. “And I was doing...?”

  Bradley took another step closer. With Sherman sitting on the edge of the bed, the head of his penis was less than a foot from Sherman’s mouth. “I think you know...”

  Sherman licked his lips. “I think I do too.”

  From there... well, what happened next was pretty obvious. Sherman took Bradley full in his mouth, all the way to the back of his throat. Bradley had then taken Sherman’s head in his hands, gripping him by the ears and really taken pleasure in the sensation. Loose plans were made to only suck one another off, that no sex would be had. But neither man really believed that.

  Such was the case that fifteen minutes later and Bradley was inside Sherman. He had him bent over the bed now, grinding his hips into Sherman’s tight little bubble butt. It was a nice butt too, rounder than it ought to be and with just the cutest smattering of peach fuzz covering it. It tensed as Bradley buried himself in him.

  “God this feels good,” Bradley growled.

  “Harder, babe,” Sherman demanded, so Bradley obliged. He howled into the sky before burying his face into a pillow and biting it so as to stop himself from screaming further.

  They fucked all morning.

  Bradley was a top, always, and Sherman was versatile and only too happy to let Bradley take control. Sherman liked it hard, and he fucked him as such until he made Sherman cum all over the bed sheets. He then took a seat and had Sherman bouncing on his member until he came too, ripping off the condom and exploding into Sherman’s hungry mouth. Sherman then licked him clean, seeming to relish in the taste.

  This was not how Bradley had thought he would be spending his final morning in Amsterdam. He had assumed it would be spent trying to get the perfect photo of his breakfast – with Sherman’s arm or something in frame – so as to upload and make Jackson even more jealous. But he hadn’t thought of Jackson once since the previous night.

  He had thought that he and Sherman would have a pleasant last morning together before parting ways to never see or speak to one another again. Oh sure, they’d made loose plans to ‘keep in touch’ but neither of them really believed it.

  He thought any number of things really, none of which involved having the best sex of his life. Yes, the best sex of his life. Again, he couldn’t explain it... so he didn’t try. Rather, he relished in what was the perfect way to end his time in Amsterdam, and to say goodbye to an unexpected friend for good.

  As to what was going to happen next? Fuck, if this morning was anything to go by, then Bradley had no idea. But as far as he was concerned, that was a good thing.

  Chapter Six

  If Sherman were being completely honest with himself – if he had that capability in his current state — he’d happily admit that of all the places he had visited in Europe throughout the past month, Lisbon, Portugal was his favorite... at least it should have been.

  The weather was pristine; blue skies, a big bright sun that was warm but not overly hot, and a cool breeze coming from off the ocean to balance it all out. The people were all ridiculously friendly, sometimes to a point where it became a little annoying. And the city itself was unlike any that Sherman had been to yet.

  Seriously, Lisbon was beautiful. A port-city that seemed to have been built entirely in the 12th Century, there wasn’t a building or landmark that didn’t look as if it belonged in another era. From the ancient castles that sat high on the hills and overlooked the city proper, to the town square that was more Colosseum than anything else, to the narrow roads built for horse rather than car, to the sandstone architecture, to the multitude of statues built to worship heroes from an age long since passed to... to... to everything! It really was something else.

  So, why wasn’t Sherman enjoying himself as he should?

  First and foremost, the Single’s Through Europe trip that he was a part of had just about killed him. Today was the final day of said tour and where he was supposed to be with them right now – they were all at the Castle de S. Jorge where they would spend an agonizing amount of time going over the history of said castle, as had been the theme for this trip – he had ducked out early so as to avoid it. Indeed, the moment that their tour group had landed in Lisbon, he had told the party leader that he was done, thanked him for all the hard work... and then left.

  The Singles Through Europe package had been an unmitigated disaster for so many reasons. First and foremost, it was boring. They went to some of the most beautiful cities in the world, visited some of the most iconic landmarks in the history of man, and ate at some of the most culturally relevant restaurants across the great continent and still, somehow, Sherman had been bored the entire time. Honestly, he probably hadn’t smiled once since Amsterdam, and if he had, it was surely a mistake.

  It was the people he was forced to travel with that had done it. They were all in their mid to late fifties, they were all single and proud of it, they were all scholars and learned men and first-time travelers too scared to go it alone. A few were interesting, some were bearable, and nearly all of them were boring. It would be no exaggeration to say that Sherman didn’t make a single friend the entire month.

  So where did that leave the Single’s Through Europe travel package that Sherman had come here to save? Honestly, after speaking with everyone on the trip, after calling back to Sydney and analyzing it all with his marketing team and bosses and anyone else that had some sort of say, Sherman had come to the decision that the only thing he could do was axe the trip entirely and hope the losses weren’t too great.

  DreamLine Travel was going to take a brutal hit as a result, but there was really no other option. Tickets weren’t selling simply because the market for people that would want to subject themselves to such a slog didn’t exist. All Sherman could hope for was that 2020 was going to be the year for international travel. It had to be!

  But as it stood, the failure of the Single’s Through Europe travel package was only a part of the reason that Sherman was having such an average day. The other reason was something much more sinister.

  When Sherman bailed from his travel group, the first thing he did was book himself a suite at the luxurious Valverde Hotel, right in the heart of the city. He’d spent the last month staying in budget motels, sharing rooms and eating budget meals. He needed the break and could think of no better way to get it than dropping an obscene amount of money on a very, very expensive room.

  Once that was done with, he needed to sort out the next little package that was sure to make his last few days in Lisbon truly great... or at the very least, enjoyable. This package was, unfortunately, cocaine.

  He wanted to blame Nick. Nick was the one that had suggested he buy some coke while in Amsterdam. Nick was the one that had told him how good it was, how cheap, how easy. Nick was the one always telling him to try new things! So surely, Nick was to blame?

  But even Sherman couldn’t lay his current state at Nick’s feet. This was on him and him alone. Once he had left Amsterdam, Sherman became dependent on drugs like he couldn’t have believed. That gram of coke he had bought his first night, lasted three days. He found himself ducking into bathrooms every chance he got, no matter the time, to rack up a line and level himself out. It was the only way he could get through the boredom!

  The next bag he bought lasted two days, and the one after that – and all the subsequent bags too – lasted him a day alone. He’d gotten into a habit by now where every hour just about he’d begin to feel the itch and
quickly look for a bathroom. Once that fresh line went up his nose though, a smile would spread across his face and he’d know he had a good hour where he didn’t have to listen to Stanley, or Mike, or Larry or any of the other singles on his trip wax lyrical about how much they loved the breakfast at the hotel that morning. It was an escape that he desperately needed.

  But there was now a clear problem. Sherman had left the group. He wouldn’t be seeing Stanley, or Mike, or Larry, or Sally, or Peggy or any of that group ever again. Yet he still craved that white powder. Once he was unpacked in his new suite, once he was settled and said his “thank yous” to whoever was listening, his leg began to shake, his arms began to twitch and he knew he needed a fix.

  The hardest part about being a drug user in a strange country was getting said drugs. With each arrival in a new city, he was forced to somehow source what he needed, and quickly. At first this was hard to do, but by now, Sherman had become an old pro. His method wasn’t foolproof, but it almost always worked.

  And so, with the day still young, and his craving getting worse by the minute, Sherman left his luxury hotel suite and he got about sourcing enough cocaine to last him the next three days.

  The way that Sherman went about getting drugs was rather simple. What he would do was walk into one of the poorer parts in town – but still within the perimeters of the tourist district – find the most rundown hotel that he could see, approach the clerk at the front desk and ask. It really was as simple as that. The clerk was almost always a young man in his early twenties, looking like he wanted to be anywhere but at work, and more often than not they either had something to sell, or knew someone who did. And where this method often cost a little extra, Sherman had more than enough money to not give a damn. He just wanted a hook-up!

  He found his mark less than three blocks from his own hotel. A little asking around revealed that there wasn’t really a ‘poor’ section of the city, at least not one that had hotels. The best he could do was just find a dive of a place and hope for the best. Well, the hotel he found looked abandoned at first glance, and at second he still wasn’t sure if it was or not.