Sausner Street is busy tonight with dog walkers, couples in love, and lonely old drunks. A light wind teases our twosome and dried leaves blow around our feet. The moment is enchanting in all aspects, but it feels wasted since he’s confused about his sexuality. Ben walks on my right side, next to the street. His shoulder is only inches away from my shoulder, which I don’t mind. “How serious?”
“Marriage stuff. She’s been talking about it a lot lately.”
“And you’re not for it?”
“Not really. I like Zoe, but marriage is a big deal.”
It is a big deal, especially since Ben likes me, and my skin. “Do you love her?” I ask, wanting to know, needing to hear his answer.
“I do. She’s a wonderful woman. Someone I can see myself spending a lot of years with. We get along great. And she obviously loves me.”
I cut to the chase, stop him on the sidewalk by clasping my right hand on his elbow, and ask, “What about your feelings for me, Ben? You know that’s what this is all about. Spill it. Make whatever we have comprehensible for me. I deserve this.”
He gives me an empty stare, denying his connection with me, shakes his head, and says, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I drop it. Enough has been said regarding the topic. If he doesn’t want to discuss the giant pink elephant of a problem between us, then I’ll respect his decision. I decide to walk away, ending tonight, keeping him as a best friend and nothing more. There is nothing I can do to help him through his problem with Zoe if he doesn’t recognize his affection for me. It’s a closed case. Done. Finished. All because of him, and I get it.
We walk back to the apartment in silence. Zoe is not brought up again. Nor does Ben admit that I turn him on. The three blocks turn out to be the longest walk of my life, and things are chilly between us.
* * * *
Hours later, tucked under my blanket, sleeping the night away inside my own bedroom, I wake up at approximately three o’ clock in the morning with Ben between my legs. He laps my hard tool, slurping and moaning, totally into his gig. Somehow he has sneaked inside my room naked, pulled the covers down to my ankles, and removed my boxers. And somehow he has erected excitement with my dong while I sleep.
“Ben, what about Zoe?” I groggily question, feeling elation build inside my body as his lapping and licking continues in a heavy manner.
He pulls off and away from my skin for air and explains, “Don’t worry about it. Just enjoy the moment. This is about us, you and me. Relax and take on the ride.”
I can’t…I won’t…and try to push him away, pressing my palms into his shoulders. But Ben is strong and fully awake, staying put between my legs. He slips his mouth down and over my stick, pulls off and away, and slides the pole of meat back into his mouth, which continues for the next ten…fourteen…seventeen minutes until I feel an explosion build between my legs.
“Ben, I have to shoot.”
“In my mouth,” he whispers. “I want to taste you.”
Euphoria is discovered as a stream of sticky ooze spirals out of my joint and into Ben's mouth. I rock steadily against his face, bury my weight into his mouth, and release every drop of man-blend into his system, becoming spent.
The load gags him and he begins to choke in a loud manner. He takes it like a man, though, swallowing the cream down, enjoying it to the fullest, and eventually licks my shaft clean in a hungry manner, confusing me to the hilt, completely.
* * * *
Cuddling afterward, my chest pressed against his naked chest, he says, “I love you, Sebastian.”
City night sounds cry outside the bedroom’s windows; a taxi’s horn, someone yelling, the train rocking on its rails. “You don’t,” I whisper. “You love Zoe. She’s the woman you’re going to marry.”
“What about you? Where do you fit into all of this?”
“I don’t. I have Jory. It makes sense to me.”
“You could have stopped me, though. I would have went to my own room and left you alone. You wanted to mess around as much as I did. Don’t lie to yourself and tell me you didn’t.”
“I tried to push you away, but couldn’t really stop you. The moment got out of hand.”
“Not hard enough, which means you do have a part in this.”
“Shut up,” I reply, and roll over, telling him to fuck me hard so I don’t have to think about it anymore.
Ben listens like a good puppy and treats me to his cock once again for the next forty-five minutes in the bedroom’s semi-darkness.
Chapter 23: Jock
Sunday afternoon. November 18. It’s just a few days before Thanksgiving. I hide from Ben in a straight bar on Tully Street. Here, sitting at the bar with a bottle of Budweiser, I watch Jory Sole on a seventy-two inch LG flat-screen, battling the Boston Bears on their turf. The score is 14 to 3, Vipers in the lead. Every time I see Jory on the screen my cock bounces between my legs. Every time he throws the football to one of his handsome teammates, my heartbeat races, anticipating a score.
Here, I force myself not to think about my affair with Ben. I refuse not to jam my mind with the way he finds me in my bed at night, seducing me. I do not want to recall how he holds me in his arms until dawn and lightly snores against the back of my neck. I deter any feelings that I may have for Ben while watching Jory on the screen.
Jory throws another touchdown pass. The leather ball whizzes through the sky and lands gently into Paul Machino’s arms like a baby. Paul runs with the ball and gains another six points for the Vipers. The crowd in the bar goes wild, hooting with cheering. A stranger smacks me on the back because of the score. Fresh beers are ordered while Lance Panders kicks the football, gaining another point.
My cell phone rings. It’s Ben, and I decide not to take it. My voicemail kicks on he leaves the message. Let’s spend the night in. I want to do something crazy with your skin.
A smile forms on the edges of my mouth because I’ve always had a crush on him, long before Jory came into the picture. Now, I can’t prevent this crush from controlling my life. I like Ben, but I’m not in love with him. Our relationship is based on sex and sex only. Everything about it boils down to his naked body blending with my naked body. If he wants to jerk me off or blow me in the middle of the night, I let him. If he wants to be fucked, I’m man enough to step up to the plate and carry out the job. Not once in the past month have I told myself that I am crazy in love with him, wanting to spend the rest of my life with Ben. My relationship with the model isn’t like this, and I don’t intend it to be. He has Zoe. Someone important in his life. His soul mate. The woman he is probably going to marry if he finds the courage to ask her. And I have Jory, my quarterback, the man who is moving my heart to a higher plane. Honestly, this is clear to me, but not so much for Ben. Obviously I have to set him straight regarding my feelings, the fuck sessions we share together, and how I have no intention of falling in love with him, ever.
The Bears fumble the ball and Mason Dexter of the Vipers picks it up, charges for a touchdown, and scores another six points. The patrons in the bar go nuts, cheering and yelling at the top of their lungs. I’m ripped off my stool and hugged by a handsome military guy with a chiseled face and too much testosterone. The guy’s blue-blue eyes light up with energy and his smile becomes intoxicating. I don’t know why I hug him back, squeezing him against me. And nor do I know why I scream with the lot of straight strangers, proving my excitement for the Vipers’ score. Again, I’m being manipulated by the men around me, unable to control my own actions.
* * * *
With another win under the Vipers’ belt, and Ben lost from my mind for the time being, I find myself breaking into Jory’s house, using his shower to freshen up, his kitchen for food, and his bed for a nap.
Three hours turn into five hours. “Sebastian…Buddy…Wake up.”
I feel a strong palm and fingers on my right shoulder, which rock me to and fro, waking me from a locker room dream with six men and a scandalous sex
scene.
I open my eyes. Jory sits on the edge of the bed next to me. He looks down at me, smiles, and asks, “How long have you been here?”
“A few hours. Did you just get in from Boston?”
“I did. What a day. Did you watch the game?”
“You’re amazing on the field,” I say. “I loved watching you.” I sit up, tell him how I watched the game in a straight bar on Tully Street, and ended up breaking into his house. “I hope you’re not pissed at me.”
He shakes his head, delighted to see me. “I’m glad you’re here. It’s nice coming back from a game and seeing your face. I’ll get you a key. I promise.”
We kiss. Long. Hard. Passionately. He peels his clothes off, slipping into the bed with me. I run my hands along his firm chest, caress his nipples, and find the hardness between his legs. Whimsically, he asks, “You want to play some torso tackle?”
I apply my lips to his shoulder, neck, right cheek, and say, “Game on.”
“For the championship?”
“You bet your ass, Jory.”
“Or yours,” he replies, and gives the top of my rump a gentle spanking.
Chapter 24: Affairs
Jory: He melts against me in his shower with his ten inches of uncut beef pressed against my bottom. His lips and tongue meet my neck under the shower’s warm spray. His free hand wraps around my torso, slowly and gently stroking my mast up and down, sending me on a plane of erotic pleasure.
“I want you,” he whispers into my ear, nibbling its lobe. “Do you want me?”
“I do,“ I reply, sounding like I’m accepting his marriage proposal, combining our lives until the end of time.
“I knew you did,” he laughs, adding light humps to the nape of my back as the length of his rod massages its skin. Again, my neck is lathered with kisses and my joint is smoothly tugged up and down.
* * * *
A November night’s cold lingers across my bare chest. I’m inside Ben's room, motionless on his bed with my legs spread apart. He is positioned over me, between my legs. His condom-covered rock is nestled comfortably inside my core. Tenderly, he begins to move in and out of my middle, building up a heated passion between us.
“Kiss me,” I demand, pulling his head to my face, moving my lips against his lips.
He listens, lost in my skin, devouring me with all of his sexual energy.
Our bodies glide together, building up a sufficient tempo. He rocks inside me, pulls out, and rocks inside me again. My cock slides between our stomachs, shooting pre-bubbles of cream.
* * * *
Secretly, Jory and I enter the locker room under the Vipers’ stadium. He locks the door behind us, and explains, “I’ve always wanted to make love with you in here.”
Quickly, we undress by the blue-and-gold lockers, already hard. Spikes glow in the dim light. We lock faces in a fiery kiss. Nipples are pinched. Cocks are strummed. Effortlessly he pulls away from me, and whispers with a twinkle in his left eye, “Bend over the bench. I want to give you a surprise.”
The surprise is nothing less than his fingertips spreading my behind apart and the tip of his tongue dabbing at its middle. Occasionally he smacks one of my ass cheeks, causing a ripple of delight to ski through my torso.
In front of him, arched over the wooden plane, I whisper, “Deeper, Jory…go deeper.”
* * * *
Ben finds me in my office just before noon. Unexpectedly, he locks the door behind him and grins from ear to ear like a high school boy. His tie is pulled off and dropped to the carpet as he hovers over me. He removes his shirt from his hulking torso, showing off every rippled muscle on his hairless body.
“What are you doing?” I inquire, whispering.
“Seducing you, Sebastian.”
“Here?”
“You wouldn’t want it any other way.”
He undoes his belt, dropping it to the floor. The buttons on his khakis are released and he pushes the material down to his ankles along with his cotton briefs. Stepping forward, holding his nine inches of tool in his right hand, Ben informs me, “I brought you lunch, pal. Get ready to eat it.”
* * * *
Jory sets up a video camera in his living room and confesses, “I’m leaving town for a few days. We’re playing El Paso and…”
I already have my pants and shirt off, lounging on his leather sofa.
He laughs. “You don’t waste any time, do you?”
I cut to the chase. “You want this to be a solo performance, or are you going to have a guest appearance?”
“Make it a solo.”
“If you decide to change your mind, feel free and jump in at any time.”
He moves up to me, leans over my lounging body, applies a kiss to my lips before pulling away, and cheerily says, “I can’t wait to watch this. Let the fun begin.”
* * * *
In the back of The Movie Place while watching a Brad Pitt flick, Ben moves his hand to my middle, finding the zipper on my jeans. Steadily the zipper is pulled down and he discovers no boxers or briefs against my skin. He leans into me and whispers, “Commando today?”
“I came prepared.”
“For what?”
“The handjob you’re about to give me.”
“Who says I’m going to do that?”
“Both of us know you can’t resist.”
I’m right. He starts firming up the device between my legs, massaging its skin in a north and south motion, causing me to breathe heavily from his handy pleasure.
Chapter 25: In the Upstairs Hallway
Zoe has a dinner party at her house on Liverpool Street and insists I show. Of course Ben is present, which causes me to feel uncomfortable since he is still sharing a relationship with his girlfriend and me.
What I witness between the two is rather upsetting, causing me confusion about my relationship with him. When they are spotted in the kitchen spooning cheesy mashed potatoes into a bowl, Ben applies a kiss to Zoe’s cheek. I hear him say to her that he loves her.
Jory is in Texas, prepping for a Sunday evening game against the El Paso Stallions. In truth, I wish he were here with me, witnessing Ben’s unconditional love for Zoe. Not that Jory knows I’m having a relationship with Ben behind his back. Nor is he privy to the knowledge that Zoe wants Ben to propose. I simply need Jory at my side because I miss him, and I’m sort of jealous that Ben is with Zoe tonight and not me.
Other guests are present; David Fucelli of Fucelli Books on Modern Street, Linda Targe--one of Zoe’s best friends from West End College, Sun Waldon--a local poet with four poetry books under her belt, Gina Sort--a model from Ben’s world. We sit at Zoe’s dining room table, shoulder to shoulder, crammed in our seats. The conversations range from snorkeling in Aruba to skydiving.
Over lamb with mint sauce, candied carrots, cheesy mashed potatoes, and an endive salad, Ben makes eye contact with me across the table. His stare says I love both of you. Don’t make me choose.
I try to ignore him by talking about an early winter storm approaching Vanmer, which is supposed to dump seven inches of snow on the ground by dawn.
Zoe disagrees. “The local meteorologists are just trying to scare us. We’ll wake up tomorrow morning and there’ll be two inches on the ground, which is nothing to tackle in this town.”
Snow tales begin at the table among the guests, which grants me enough time to escape the dinner gathering and head upstairs to use the bathroom.
* * * *
In the upstairs hallway, after carrying out my business, Ben finds me and presses me against the plaster wall. He almost touches my lips with his lips, meets my eyes with his own, and mumbles, “I’m in love with you. Don’t forget that.”
I push him away, disgruntled about his likeness for both Zoe and me. “You love Zoe. I’m just a fix for your cock when you need one.”
He grabs my sweater and balls it at the base of my throat. He looks at me with a stern glare. “I love you both.”
I don’t b
elieve him. I won’t force myself to. I’m just a sex toy for him. Someone to get him off. Someone who has a cock that he can ride. Another asshole in the world that he can fuck with his dick. Someone he can rub his skin against in the middle of the night when he’s horny. “We have to end this.”
“Never,” he whispers. “I won’t do it.” He plants a kiss on my mouth, sending warm and effervescent vibrations through my body. He brings my rod to life, causing it to bounce in my slacks.
The kiss leaves me feel inebriated. I’m at a complete loss for words, dizzy against the wall, and begin to slide down its plaster surface.
He holds me up with his strength, and dives his tongue down the back of my throat. When he pulls off of my mouth, seeking oxygen, he shares, “I’ve caught you.”
“You haven’t. And you can’t. Jory has caught me.”
“You can love more than one person in life. Zoe and you satisfy me.”
I think of Jory…and Ben. What the model expresses is true, every word of it. Maybe he does love both Zoe and me, but I cannot love Ben, only Jory. Honestly, I get a kick out of Ben’s sexual antics because he’s always ready and willing to sleep with me. This doesn’t mean I love him. Our relationship is solely based on sex. Sex in the shower. Sex in our beds. Sex against the kitchen wall. Sex over the living room couch. Everything we have is only about sex, nothing more, and he has to start understanding this. Ben has to get a grip of reality and begin to comprehend that I’m not in love with him, and plan never to be.
“Don’t make me choose,” he challenges.
“I’m not making you choose,” I respond in a rather snippy manner.
“I love you, and Zoe. Just start to relax and enjoy it.”
We kiss again, sealing our bodies together as one. Frankly, I don’t have any feelings beneath my skin for him. The kiss is lost on me. I’m dead beneath his touch and closeness.
Zoe calls up the stairs, questioning our whereabouts.
Ben turns his attention to the stairwell and calls down the hallway, “Be there in a second, babe!”
Zoe yells back, “Dessert is being served!”
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