by J. P. Scott
“So, what is this scandal at the gym?” Jeremy sounded so excited to know.
Ollie blushed, “I can’t believe it. I got a hard-on during my work out with Patrick, the trainer.”
“It must have been the squats.”
“Definitely a major factor,” Ollie admitted. Squats and a touch that felt so wonderful.
“I don’t know how it hasn’t happened to you before. And I’m sorry I missed it. Maybe I’ll be able to elicit a similar response this weekend.”
Ollie laughed, “Well, you did a good job last night.”
“If just thoughts of a rim jobs get you excited, I can’t wait for what happens when you are actually getting rimmed.”
Ollie walked to his bedroom and laid down on the bed. “What else should I expect besides rimming?”
Jeremy hummed with pleasure. “Once that hole is good and wet, I’d work my way up, kissing and licking until I got to your balls. Then I would work them over with my tongue, then slipping them one by one in my mouth and sucking on them.”
Ollie’s hand slipped under the waistband of his shorts and underwear as he listened to Jeremy. He was growing hard imagining Jeremy’s lips around his balls and his beard stubble scratching him.
“While sucking your balls, my finger will massage your hole, keeping it ready for me.”
Ollie’s eyes had rolled back in his head and his back had arched. His cock was hard in his hand, and he continued to stroke it. He worked his other hand down to rub his balls, imagining it to be Jeremy’s tongue. “God, Jeremy.”
“And then when you’re ready to come, I’ll start sucking, working my tongue around your head.” His voice was less firm and more breathless. He must be jerking himself and near climax. “Come for me, Ollie. Come in my mouth. I want to taste you.”
Ollie gasped as he felt himself let go and cum shot out, splashing up to his chest and neck. “God, god.” He could not form any other word as his body shook.
On the other end of the line, Jeremy continued to stroke and breath into the phone. He grunted and Ollie imagined the load shooting over Jeremy’s body like he had seen in the pictures last night.
Jeremy murmured with pleasure and Ollie could hear his breath normalize. “And that’s just round one.”
Ollie coughed, “How many rounds will there be?”
“As many as physically possible.”
A shiver ran down Ollie’s spine. The intensity of Jeremy’s interest was unexpected. What did he see in Ollie? They had not even met in real life before. Would things change after their date on Saturday? Had Jeremy created an ideal that Ollie would not be able to live up to?
Just enjoy this, Ollie said to himself. Do not create a problem where there is not one. If a guy wants to ravage your body multiple times, dropping load after load, let him. Maybe it was not love, but it could be a hell of a time.
“Thank you, handsome. It’s been another messy performance. I need to go clean up.”
Ollie looked down at himself and the cum that was starting to create rivers from his chest down his sides. “Me, too. I don’t mind, though.”
“Woof.”
They said goodbye and Ollie dashed to the bathroom to start a shower. Soon, hot water poured over him and he scrubbed with sudsy body wash, wishing Jeremy was there with him, helping him scrub clean to get ready for the next round of getting dirty. How many rounds could Jeremy do in a day? How many did Ollie want? He felt himself growing hard again and knew the answer—as many rounds as he could get.
Ten
For the next two days Ollie tried to keep a low profile at work. He sent Jessica an updated version of his resume based on her notes. It did seem to be an improvement. He avoided scheduling time to practice questions. He hoped with a few more days to let his emotions settle that he would be ready to dive into polishing up that piece.
No formal announcement had been made, but people were starting to whisper about the possibility that Marvin was retiring. Three people emailed him to say they wanted Ollie to apply. Each email was flattering, but sent his stomach turning.
Jessica seemed pretty busy with projects and meetings, so breakroom chats and drive-bys to Ollie’s cubicle were nonexistent. Ollie kept his head down and focused on his work and making it through the week.
Jeremy texted when he could but was also facing a hectic schedule. Most of the back and forth were kissing emojis, eggplants, and peaches.
Happy hour was still on with Cameron, and they decided on a Scottsdale restaurant with a good patio and drink specials. Once the clock showed he was clear to log off, he was out the door. He arrived first and snagged a shady, corner spot on the patio. The server was dropping off two tall vodka sodas with lime when Cam arrived.
“God, do I need this right now.” Cam took a big gulp as he slid into his seat.
“Damn, girl. Hard day?”
Cam rolled his eyes, “You have no idea.” He took another long drink. “But you first. Did you bang this Jeremy guy yet?”
“He’s not even in town!” Ollie’s face turned red as he admitted, “Jut some good phone sex.”
“I guess that’s a start.”
“I feel like when I do meet him, I’ll end up tied in his bedroom as a sex slave. You may never see me walk again.”
Cam lifted his glass to cheers, “That’s all I’ve ever wanted for you. I just wish he were cuter. Abs, pecs, zero percent body fat.”
“He’s cute! Not what I usually go for, but pretty damn sexy when it comes to what he likes in the bedroom.”
“Phone sex is one thing. Is he going to keep your interest in the bedroom when it is actually you and him, flesh to flesh? Men are visual beings.”
Leave it to Cam to focus solely on looks. But was that so strange for a gay man to focus on? Cam was right, we were all wired to the visual. It’s what made going to the gym or a gay bar or the grocery store so enjoyable. Around every corner was the chance to see a hot daddy that could be a future ex-husband in some fantasy. It was also true that Jeremy did not fit the stats that Olly typically found himself attracted to. He had even mentally checked out from a date when the guy did not fit the stats in his profile.
Was it the same with Jeremy? He had described himself as stocky. When he finally sent clear pictures, they had shown a handsome, but average guy. Dad bods were in, were they not? And was it the physical that had caught Ollie’s attention? They had not met in person, yet. Jeremy was confident and refreshingly honest—that was what made him stand out in Ollie’s mind.
Ollie realized he had left Cam’s question hanging, “Well, if he doesn’t keep my interest, I guess there’s always the sauna at the gym.”
Cam laughed, but it was not his normal robust cackle.
“Who else besides the Silver Fox should I be expecting to be looking to play.”
Cam looked away. “Ollie, the sauna is so last year. The cool kids are on to bigger and better things.”
Ollie took a sip of his drink. Talk of the sauna was usually Cam’s favorite topic of conversation. Was he jealous that Ollie had dipped his toe in that pond and gotten more attention than Cam had? If he wanted the sauna as his domain, Ollie was happy to let him have it.
Cam stood up, “I’ll be right back. Get another round.”
Ollie nodded in response even though Cam was looking away and already walking towards the bathroom. Cam was known for moods, but was usually bitchy, catty, or funny. This one was different.
While he waited for Cam to return, he texted Jeremy a kissing emoji and then scrolled through pictures posted in everyone’s timeline. Lots of merriment happening at happy hours across the country. Everyone else seemed to be having the experience he had expected to be having. What was with Cam today? Ollie looked at the time on his phone. And, where was he?
When Cam slid back into his seat, Ollie was already midway through his second drink. He was keeping his head down, but Ollie could see his eyes were red, puffy, and damp. “What’s wrong?”
Cam shook his head,
“It’s nothing.”
“You’ve been gone a while and it looks like you’ve been crying. Don’t bullshit me, Cam.”
Cam finally looked at Ollie. Fresh tears were forming in his eyes.
“Hey, what is it? You know I’m here for you…whatever it is.”
Cam wiped the moisture from his cheeks and took a long drink from his vodka. “I messed up. Big.”
Ollie did not know what to do. Should he put his arms around his friend? Get a heap of napkins to help dry the tears? He sat frozen. The person who was usually in crisis was him, not Cam.
“What happened?”
“I haven’t been feeling well lately. Fatigued. Loose bowels. I thought I had the flu or something but just couldn’t shake it.” Tears continued down Cam’s cheeks. “The other day, I stopped at the pharmacy and picked up a home test kit—the one for HIV.”
Ollie’s heart stopped. He knew that kit very well. For years he had picked one up to test his own status if he had been busy and unable to go to the doctor. The process was simple—swab the mouth and drop the strip into a solution. The hard part was the waiting. For fifteen minutes it was pacing, trying not to think about the test but not having enough time to get focused on something else. If the test strip changed to a stripe, it was positive. If it stayed blank, negative. Wait too long to check and the results were inconclusive; the strip could discolor and it would be unclear if it was positive or negative.
“You know that little flap. It covers the results and shows you examples of positive and negative. When it was time, I flipped it over to see the result. When I saw the stripe, I put the flap back to make sure I was reading it correctly. Just back and forth, not believing what I was seeing.” Cam stared across the room, not focused on anything but simply replaying the moment in his mind, “Just back and forth, over and over again. Each time I thought the stripe would disappear, that I had imagined everything.”
How alone he must have felt as his mind tried to register what he was seeing and the consequences. Ollie reached across the table and wrapped a hand around Cam’s and squeezed.
“Shit, Cam. I’m sorry.”
Cam took another long drink. “Mark doesn’t know yet. I have a doctor’s appointment on Monday to do an official test and start figuring out treatment.”
“What are you going to tell him?”
Cam shook his head. “I don’t know what will be harder—telling him I’m positive or that I’ve been fooling around.”
“Do you know who it is?”
“No clue.” Cam’s sauna adventures were more than he had ever let on to Ollie. It was more than watching and showing off. More than a hand job. He had taken everything he learned about being safe and tossed it out the window.
Ollie looked down at their near-empty glasses and around the crowded bar. “Hey, let’s get out of here. Let’s pick up a bottle, lots of junk food, and watch movies at my place.
Cam nodded, still trying to dry his face.
Eleven
Ollie tip-toed to the kitchen to get a glass of water. Cam snored from the couch where he had passed out. They had polished off a bottle of vodka, a pizza, and half of the mound of nachos they constructed. Despite the news and its ongoing implications, the night had ended up being one of his most enjoyable times hanging out with Cam. There was not the constant chatter of judgment directed at some unsuspecting soul. Cam opened up about everything, and maybe for the first time in their friendship, he had revealed his true self.
Now he was paying the price for all the vodka. His tongue felt like Velcro against the roof of his mouth. A headache pounded behind his eyes. If he woke Cam, he knew he would be feeling the same.
Ollie drank the first glass of water in the kitchen and refilled the glass. He filled a second glass and put it on the coffee table in hopes that Cam would find it when he woke up. He gently closed the bedroom door, crawled in bed and groaned. His phone buzzed on the nightstand indicating a text.
“Thanks for the photos, stud. Looking forward to tonight.”
Ollie opened up to see the full text message thread. Above Jeremy’s response were a series of photos that Ollie did not remember taking of himself. All were in his bathroom and selfies of himself in a series of undress. Lifting his shirt and rubbing his nipples. Pants unzipped and hand down in his underwear. Turned with his back to the camera, ass exposed and resting on the bathroom counter. Totally stripped down, hard cock in hand, making what he could only assume was a “sexy face”.
“What did I do?”
Fuzzy memories from the end of the night rose to the surface of his memory. Towards the end of the night, he had the idea to text Jeremy.
“Send him sexy pics!” Cam dared.
“Yeah. I’ve been working out. I’m a sexy bitch.”
“You’re a sexy bitch!”
Ollie no longer saw himself as a sexy bitch. The love handles. The belly. When had he last trimmed his pubes?
The better question: how had this not turned Jeremy off? In reverse, Ollie would not have enjoyed a drunken pic overshare. The fact that Ollie had not sent a picture of his hole was amazing. Then he remembered stumbling and hitting his head against the wall as he tried to pose. He had not even met Jeremy in real life and he was already making a fool of himself. Still, Jeremy did not seem to mind.
He wrote a text back to Jeremy, “I guess I was a little drunk last night.” He followed with an embarrassed emoji.
“Let’s get you drunk more often. Woof.”
Jeremy was not easily swayed. He found Ollie attractive and was going to get to know him no matter what.
“What time am I meeting you at Old Town Café?”
Jeremy responded, “Actually, I was hoping I could pick you up. That old school style that I like.”
Ollie did not mind the old school request from Jeremy. With most dates he preferred meeting the guy at the restaurant, bar, or coffee house. If he had his own car, he could make a getaway when and if he needed to. Even though it was his first time meeting Jeremy, Ollie felt like he knew him pretty well. There were no red flags that made him believe Jeremy was anything but the horny gentleman he had been in their texts. If Jeremy knew where Ollie lived, it did not seem to pose any problems. If anything, it would make it easier for Jeremy to stay over. Ollie very much wanted Jeremy to stay over.
“I’ll text you the address and the complex gate code.”
“I’m looking forward to finally seeing you face to face.”
Ollie laughed, “I think you’re looking forward to more than that.”
“Most definitely, handsome.”
Twelve
Morning stretched to afternoon. Ollie checked on Cam to make sure he was breathing. He had moved, consumed some water, and was indeed inhaling and exhaling. Ollie stayed in his room and napped and played on his phone, grateful for quiet after a busy week.
Eventually, his stomach was growling for food. Cam would need to get up and get going at some point so that Ollie could clean and freshen the place for Jeremy’s visit. Wanting to avoid leftovers from last night’s junk food binge fest he knew he needed to do some actual cooking. The noise would go a long way to getting Cam up and moving.
“What are you doing in there?” Cam called from the couch as Ollie opened and closed cupboards and refrigerator door with extra force.
“Making some lunch. It’s already after one. Are you hungry?” He made sure he called out louder than he thought would be necessary.
“Is there still pizza?”
Ollie eyed the box on the counter. “I think so. I can make you some chicken and veggies, if you want something healthy.”
“Watching my calories is the least of my problems.”
Cam may be facing a life-altering illness, but it no longer meant a death sentence. Medications had improved and extended the lives of so many positive men. If tested, a person taking medications as directed could test as undetectable for HIV and be little to no risk of transmitting the virus to another person. No doubt a cu
re was just around the corner.
“You’ll feel better with good, real food.” Anything to support a healthy immune system seemed to be a good idea.
“I can’t imagine ever feeling good again.” Cam shuffled into the galley kitchen, lifted the pizza box lid, grabbed a slice, and began to munch. “Just how I like it.”
“It’s not the end of the world.”
“But it’s the end of the world that I know.”
Ollie set everything on the counter and put his friend in a bear hug. “I’ll still be here for you.”
“This friendship works better when I’m the one with my shit together.”
“Well, then get your shit together. We both know that I can barely manage. I’ve hit a good place—but I keep waiting for it all to fall apart.” Exercise and weight loss were on track. There was a man on deck eager to hit a home run. There might even be a promotion ahead. Things had never been this on track in his entire life.
Cam nodded, “Jeremy’s going to be bad in bed…or have severe bad breath.”
“Don’t curse it so soon.”
“You never pick the good ones.”
“Even a broken clock is right twice a day.”
Cam patted Ollie’s hand, “Oh, honey. No one uses clocks.”
Ollie knew that Cam would find a way through all the things ahead of him. It would just take time. How Mark was going to react was a huge unknown, but Ollie knew that Cam could pick himself up and make an amazing future regardless if his relationship fell apart.
Thirteen
Ollie checked himself in the mirror. Hair was in place, held together with some product that kept the shape but did not look plastered to his scalp. His button-down shirt was pressed but still had a casual and carefree look to it. The jeans were the ones that made his butt look the best. He turned in front of the mirror to make sure all sides looked the best they could. Sometimes he thought about the days when he thought he looked cute but later saw pictures with friends at a party or out at a bar and he looked frumpy and bloated. He checked again to make sure his stomach did not protrude.
