“That is a kind offer,” I said neutrally.
“Plenty of room for you to fuck. I know the pretty boys don’t like us old men, but watching doesn’t hurt. Fab and I love to watch.”
“Are you two a couple?” I wasn’t curious... I simply had nothing else to talk about.
He let out a bellicose laugh that startled me so badly that Mark turned away from the American and put the full force of his attention on me.
“Fabrizio,” the man called up to the men sitting above the tub. He said something in Italian which drew laughs from Fab and the men in the half circle.
Fab called back: “Yes, Seb. We are true boyfriends... like the Americans.” Fab snorted, then he continued: “I’m okay with his flab, and I’m okay with his hairy back... just like I’m ‘okay’ with his tiny dick.”
Seb roared and leapt out of the tub so that the (disgusting) water rolled off his thick body and onto my head. I sputtered and turned away. Meanwhile, Seb entered a battle royale with his ‘boyfriend’ to much laughter from their friends.
“They’re showing off for you,” the American explained as he leaned across my partner and slid his hand across Mark’s tight abs. “Never get old. The young bucks drive us wild.” The American smiled at me lasciviously. How had I ever thought he was the nicer looking of the men?
“Get off him,” I threatened with a low voice and my lip curled in a snarl. I stared at the American and kept my eyes dead.
“Mm... I love the tension. I have a flat a quick train ride away.”
I had murder in my eyes—this idiot’s hands were on my man.
“Calm down, babe,” Mark said, then put the American in his place. Abruptly, Mark decided our time in Hell was up. “Time for us to get going,” he said cheerfully. Mark shifted in his seat and spoke into my ear, “Fuck, when you do that it turns me on so bad.”
“What?”
“I love when you get possessive.” Mark nibbled on my ear. Then he spoke to the room. “I think my boy is ready to leave. What do you say, boy? Get up?”
I nodded. Let’s go.
“Get up, boy,” the American commanded.
“You need to show off before you can leave,” Mark agreed.
Mark... I hope you’re kidding. I’m not going to stand up and have these freaks stare at me. I took a tentative look up at the guys leering at us from above.
Seb and Fab were touching each other’s junk and the old men weren’t as ugly as I originally thought. I guess I must have projected my fears and nervousness onto them. They were average looking... and that wasn’t a bad thing. Not everyone could be Mark. Mark had skewed my idea of what attractiveness was. The more I saw my handsome, vain lover, the more my idea of an average, normal human body skewed to have the physique and the face of my partner. When I first met Mark, I could see that he was symmetrical and muscular and cocky and charismatic... but I wouldn’t have said he was a better person than Seb or Fab because he was more symmetrical. I only thought negatively about these guys because they were in a gay hook-up joint.
Fab was a nice guy. Horny, but nice. Seb was loud and charismatic... not unlike Mark.
“Your boy needs to be disciplined,” Fab said, breaking me out of my observations. “He shouldn’t question you like that.”
Fab! How had I ever thought you were a nice person!
“Let’s go, boy,” Mark said brazenly, like a chauvinistic pig. “Stand up for the guys. Let ‘em see what I got.”
“Okay...” I said.
“Sir,” the American supplied. “Show respect.”
Mark slapped my head with his wet hand.
“Yes, sir,” I whispered. I raised my hips out of the water and tried to run for the changing room. Mark called out for me to slow down. He made a show of adjusting my package and untying the white strings on my speedo so that they swung below my barely contained cock. Mark smacked my butt.
Let’s go! Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go.
I waited for Mark to get up, but he didn’t. I took a half step towards freedom, but Mark held up his hand and motioned for me to stand straight. I forced my back to be perfectly erect which pushed my chest forward.
My shoulders twitched four times in rapid succession like when I emptied my bladder too quickly while standing up. Shit. Did I pee my pants.... No. Nothing warm. I’m just freaked out.
The guys in the tub had their hands under water and playing with either their own cocks or their neighbor’s. Mark was by himself staring up at me (and naked!). The guys on the bench above me were staring at me and stroking. What the fuck! Get me out of this cesspool.
I locked eyes with Mark, scared shitless. I suddenly found it hard to breathe.
Mark came out of the water to steady me without breaking eye contact. His fingers found the loose strings barely holding up that stupid, flowery speedo. He tugged gently. I whimpered.
His hand found the small of my back and I melted into him, not even caring that he was completely naked.
We made out... in front of all those creepy guys. They were watching us... observing us... wanting to be us. When Mark broke the kiss for a breath of air, I started whimpering again and clawed at his back for another crushing hug and penetrating kiss.
I felt his hand brush over my butt crack (at least, I hoped it was Mark’s hand). I felt his cock press against my thigh. Fuck... he’s naked. His cock is out.
I faintly heard the Italians chattering in a mix of English and their native tongue, all of which flew over my head. I heard whispered pleas for us to fuck right there in the tub. Please no! Don’t make me do that! Please, this has to be against the rules... this isn’t sanitary at all!
Mark picked me up and set my feet outside the tub. He picked up his white speedo and jumped out of the water after me. “See ya guys, it’s been real.” The guys made angry sounds, like we had been a disappointment. I looked back as we left and there were more men in the room than I remembered.
Mark strutted out of the hot tub room with me on his arm, guiding me to the changing room. The key to our locker was still wrapped around his bicep.
I was shaking uncontrollably.
“You did good, babe. I’m so proud of you.”
“Get me out of this. Please Mark. Get me out of here.” I wanted to rip off the swimsuit, but I also didn’t want to get naked in that shitty place—there was yet another man changing with us.
“Looks like I missed the show,” the stranger remarked, looking over Mark’s naked body. I hid behind the towel as I dried off, then changed behind the towel. Mark casually struck up a conversation with the new guy. Fab and Seb followed us into the changing room. The American was hot on their tails.
Fab again offered us a room to stay.
“Do you want to?” Mark asked. I stared at him blankly while screaming at him in my head. What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck! Why is my cock still hard! Ah!
I slipped into my white tee shirt and I was ready to go. I tied my shoes and shut off my mind. Just get out of here. Get out of here. Why are you taking so long to change?
The three guys from the hot tub left after who knows how long because my mind was completely zoned out.
“You didn’t have to hide,” Mark said. “They weren’t bad guys.”
“Let’s get out of here,” I begged.
“You liked showing off.”
“I did, okay. I did. But I still don’t want to be here. I feel really weird.”
The new stranger kept to his corner of the changing room and took his sweet time changing.
“You don’t want one last hurrah?” Mark prodded.
“What? I’m not going back there,” I said, finally coming to my senses and exerting myself.
“I want to show you off one more time. This dude missed out on the show. I’m sure he’d like a feel.”
“What!” I shrieked. My cock responded strongly and favorably. Damn skinny jeans... they show everything. I never had this problem with erections before... not in school, not in co
llege... what the fuck is going on with me!
Mark grabbed me and pulled on my abs so that my back pressed into his chest. “Shhh... he’s not going to touch your junk.” Mark kissed my neck. “That’s mine.” Mark looked at the stranger. “He’s going to touch that chest and feel your tight shirt. I bet he likes my boy’s shirt... don’t you, dude?”
“Yes,” the man said simply. He extended his hand and it hovered over my pecs. I pushed against Mark.
“He wants to touch you. He thinks you’re a hot stud.”
“You’re both so fucking hot,” the man confirmed.
“Touch him. Tell him how much you like him. Worship his body.”
“So tight,” the man said, grabbing my pecs and rubbing the fur under my shirt. “Bello. Bellisimo.” The stranger leaned like he was going to kiss me, but Mark’s hand shot out and pushed him away. The stranger pulled back and his hands trailed down my chest. He lifted my shirt. “Too old for a rent boy, but with this body, who cares? Those abs would earn you enough...” The stranger patted my abs while rubbing the fabric over his erection.
My cock throbbed. I squirmed in Mark’s tight embrace. I was exhilarated and terrified. I felt safe in Mark’s arms, but freaked out by what we were doing.
“So nice...” the stranger said. “Smooth.” His fingers dug into my skin.
“That’s enough,” I said, suddenly finding my voice.
It was over in a flash. Mark pulled me back slightly and then suddenly he was between me and the guy. Mark said something with a no-nonsense tone and the stranger left. I hopped into Mark’s arms and started breathing erratically.
He stroked my back.
“That was too much. I know. I know.” We swayed back and forth. “You did good, babe. You had fun, right?”
I couldn’t decide whether I’d had fun or not. I blinked and tried to breathe in his scent... but he smelled like chlorine and dirt and grime and stale air.
“Let’s get out of here,” Mark said. He adjusted my shirt and settled his hands on my body. “What needs to be evened out?”
I grabbed his other hand. I had spent about an hour clutching his right hand so I needed to hold his left hand for the rest of the evening.
“We’ll cuddle tonight with you on the other side, eh? That’ll balance things... right?”
I nodded.
We walked out of that cesspool with me clutching Mark’s hand like he might be ripped from my grasp at any moment. We took the train to our hotel’s neighborhood. I exhaled deeply when we reached that familiar terrain.
“Why did you leave me?” I complained, finding the ability to talk.
“I never left you. I had my eye on you the whole time.”
“You walked away to the bar.”
“I was watching you.”
You weren’t!
“And all those germs. My feet need to be Cloroxed.”
“You were wearing your beach shoes.”
“What?” Yeah, right!
“Are you kidding right now? You were wearing your beach shoes the whole time.”
I glared at him.
“You were! What the fuck, I pushed you way too hard.” He gripped my hand harder and wore his ‘sad puppy dog’ expression.
There’s no way I was wearing beach shoes... but would I have ever left that locker room barefoot? No. But why don’t I remember anything on my feet?
“Did you have a good time?” he asked, changing the subject. I didn’t answer because I didn’t know the answer. “Well? You were hard all night.”
“I think I just need to jack off.”
“Nope. Not tonight. Wednesday is our sex night.”
“You remembered?”
“Of course I remembered... goof.” He jittered his fingers through mine. “I’ve been planning tomorrow for a long time.”
“Why?”
“Well... we pushed you today. We’re going to cuddle tonight. And then tomorrow... it’s on, baby.”
“Okay, that’s too far. I let you call me ‘babe’ upon occasion, but you will never call me ‘baby’.”
“Listen, boy,” Mark said with a fake gruff voice. “You need to learn your place.”
“Don’t give me that,” I said, shoving him. “That was scary.” I clutched his hand and stared at him. I had stars in my eyes and my head was in the clouds like I was coming down from a tremendous high. “I was so scared. And it was exciting.”
“So you liked it?”
“I don’t know!” I shouted the words again, this time up in the air, “I don’t know!” I laughed. I felt the nerves leave my body. “Shit, I feel so... electric right now.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” I said, breathlessly. “I never would have done that without you. This whole day... I can’t believe we skinny dipped... in the middle of the day!”
“In Italy!”
“I know!” I laugh-giggled. What am I doing with you?
I looked at his face, returned his smile... and it clicked. I had the sudden, uncontrollable urge to get on him, to make him feel how I was feeling. I had to show him what he meant to me... and to make sense of my own confusion.
Mark was the only thing that mattered.
I charged and caught him off guard so that he stumbled backwards towards an office building that was closed for the night. I slammed him against the glass wall, we were about three feet off the main sidewalk in a sheltered alcove that led to a door.
I kissed him fiercely, grabbed at his chest, pushed his hands out of the way as he tried to take control. As if... who’s in control now? Yeah, stay down. I grabbed the hem of his shirt.
“Babe,” he whispered.
Shit, can’t get naked. Outside, the fuck am I doing?
I launched myself at his mouth again, using my hands so that he was forced to kiss me. Never letting go. Never going to be apart. I love you so much, so much more than you will ever know, ever understand.
We broke apart and I had to take a long breath of air, so quick and desperate that it sounded like a woman’s sigh.
“Shit,” he said.
I kissed him again, in another frenzy. Cars passed on the street: I didn’t care. Time passed: I sure as shit didn’t care, or even notice. I had no idea if anyone walked the streets behind us, my back was to the sidewalk and Mark was completely at my mercy.
He didn’t fight.
I heard someone stumble behind me and laugh... a female voice. I came back to myself, blinking, breathing hard, needing him and knowing that he needed me.
I heard the cars on the road, remembered the craziness of the past hour, felt him stroking my arm and whispering sweet nothings to me.
I swallowed slowly.
“Let’s go,” I said, disentangling myself from his body.
He kissed me on the side of the head and didn’t even ask where that performance had come from. We held hands the rest of the way to the hotel... and I was perfectly fine with it. My mind felt raw; my soul, too. I didn’t want any distance between us and in light of the emotions I had just felt, holding hands in public was nothing to be worried about.
I had to show him how much he meant to me... even though the love I felt for him was so far out of my vocabulary.
I came down from my high as we stumbled and hummed and flirted and laughed. The hotel came into view and we slowed our pace, strolling hand in hand.
“I enjoyed tonight,” I said while nodding my head, as if to convince myself that I was telling the truth. “I don’t want to do that again... it was so strange. I liked it, and I was terrified.”
“You keep saying that...”
“I can’t decide!”
“You liked being the center of attention.”
“No! I hate it! That wasn’t me! That was someone else!”
“That was Cheese.”
“No. Cheese likes his cuddles.”
“That was my unicorn.”
“No. Your unicorn is straight.”
“How about ‘mente’?” Mark suggested
.
“What?” Where did that come from?
“It’s Italian for ‘mind’.”
“That’s not right. If anything I lost my mind while we were in that cesspool.”
“It was not a cesspool.”
“That’s how I’m going to think of it forever.”
Mark shook his head. “You’re acting silly right now.” He smiled at me. “You lost your mente, Mente.”
“If I’m ‘Mente’, then you’re ‘Menti’.” I giggled like a bimbo.
“Enlighten me.”
“Short for mentiroso!” I said the Spanish word like I was a swashbuckling pirate, adorned with a cape and a flashy scimitar.
“Doesn’t help. What’s it mean?”
“Spanish for ‘liar’.”
“I’m not a liar!” he protested, dropping my hand and dramatically stopping in the middle of the sidewalk. His hands were perched on his hips and he gave me one of his goofy looks like we were having one of our goofy arguments (and most of the things we argued about were goofy).
“You tricked me into coming here.” I put up one finger. “You didn’t tell me you were gay.” I put up two fingers. “You tried to seduce me instead of coming out of the closet.”
“I was never in the closet,” Mark protested. “Put down that finger. That one doesn’t count. And anyways, we were talking in Italian, not Spanish.”
“The Spanish word for mind is also ‘mente’.”
“No it isn’t.”
“I studied Spanish for eight years. Yes it is.”
“Mente strikes again!” He laughed at me. “Pick an Italian word. That’ll be my nickname for the week.”
“Try ‘liar’ in Italian.”
“I don't know what it is.”
“Look it up on your phone.” Mark Googled it for me.
“Bugiardo,” he said, reading from his screen.
“Bugiardo,” I repeated, letting the word roll off my tongue and trying to make it sound Italian. “Bugi?”
“No. Bad name. That sounds like something a kid would say, like a boogie monster.”
“Bugi... Or like what annoying people say to babies,” I suggested. “Bugi, bugi, goo.”
“Or like what a ghost would say if he scared himself: boo! geee!”
IJUH complete Page 34
