by Brandon Witt
“Oh, yes. Jake! Oh, yes.”
I licked and swallowed and sucked and licked and swallowed more. Finally, he jerked away from me. I knew that feeling—that abrupt ultra-sensitivity where a second more would mean pain instead of pleasure. I blinked, suddenly becoming aware of my surroundings and finding myself jammed against the wall and my knees killing me from kneeling on the hard, wood floor. My zipper was undone and my nuts were crushed against the metal teeth. Ouch!
I swiped at my mouth as Patrick stepped back, his arms stretched wide to find a surface to orient himself. I grinned, knowing I had just sucked him dry and taken his internal coordination away.
I quickly rose to my feet and grabbed his hand, bringing it to the nearby doorframe, knowing he would be able to align himself from there. He blinked and I chuckled.
“What?” he asked me rather defensively.
I chuckled again. “Nothing, mate. It’s just that you look exactly like I feel. Both of us have our limp cocks hanging out of our pants and are trying desperately to get our bearings.”
He smiled sheepishly at me and tried to cover his shrinking cock with his hand. “No fair. You have an advantage over me. I can’t see!”
I leaned over to buss his cheek with my lips. “Poor baby. Here, does this make you feel better?” I pulled his spare hand around me and let him feel my naked butt cheek. He laughed and gave me a squeeze, letting his fingers drift over my arse crease without penetrating. It was just a little teasing touch, but my cock lifted its head, wondering if it was time to party again.
“Mmm,” he moaned. “I’m definitely feeling better now.”
“Yeah? How much better? Better enough for Round Two?” I was horny, and if Patrick was suddenly willing, then you’d better believe my recovery time was record breaking.
“Round Two? What? Already?”
He slid his hand around to find my arousal beginning to fill once again. I laughed at him. “You’re too bloody sexy. All I have to do is think about you getting naked for me to touch and I’m hard again. You’re such a freakin’ tease. You’ve had me turned on for weeks.”
“Me? What about you?” he cried.
“Me?” I echoed. “I’m not the one who waltzed around mostly naked while he was sick. I’ve done nothing to tempt you. How could I? I didn’t even know you were gay!”
“Nothing to tempt me? Excuse me?” Patrick’s tone was indignant but still with a hint of teasing. “How many times did I tell you to change your perfume?”
“Huh?”
“I wrote to you several times about it.”
“My perfume? I’m a guy. I don’t wear perfume. And besides, you wrote to Mrs. Huntley, not to me.”
“Perfume is an acceptable word for male or female. And whatever the scent you wear, it has been driving me completely crazy! Do you realize how… aroused I’ve been since you started working for me?”
“Really?” I was grinning like some demented mental patient.
“I’d come home and your scent would be in the air. It was like scented Viagra. I’d be hard within three steps of walking in my front door and I’d stay that way for hours. I’d end up having to open all the doors and windows to try to erase the smell. And then my sheets….”
“What?” I prompted him as he trailed off.
“When you fold the sheets and make the bed, your scent ever so slightly penetrates the fabric. Then I’d go to bed and as I was falling asleep I could make out, just very, very faintly, but definitely there, the scent of your body. It would drive me wild!”
“Oh.” It was my turn for confession. “You may’ve been able to smell me in your bed because I did… ahh… take a couple of breaks there.”
“You….”
Patrick looked at me astonished, and I suddenly realized where his mind was leapfrogging ahead to. My face flamed and I hastened to reassure him. “I didn’t mean that I did anything in the bed! No, man. Definitely not! I just meant that I like to lay down on your sheets and pillow and smell you.”
“Oh. So you didn’t masturbate in my bed?”
“No!”
“Pity.”
I was left flabbergasted with my dick still hanging out of my pants as Patrick pushed away from the door and made for his bedroom. Pity? As in he actually wants me to masturbate in his bed while he is at work?
I thought about it and had to concede that it was entirely possible to do. Easy, even!
“Are you coming?” Patrick’s voice floated toward me from the bedroom.
Was I coming? God, I hoped so.
I hotfooted in his direction, determined not to miss out on a single moment of this unexpected twist in my life.
“SO WHAT’S put such a smile on your face?”
Maria’s innocent question put an end to my daydreaming. Damn! And that daydream was beginning to get really good. I was remembering when Patrick pushed me face-first into the bed and climbed up behind me….
“Jake?”
Fuck! Focus!
“What?”
Maria waved her hands in front of my face. “Hello? Is anyone in there today? What has you so distracted that you haven’t stopped smiling for the last fifteen minutes? Do you have a secret boyfriend or something?”
“No. Do you?” I’d learned through experience that the best form of defense was to attack. As anticipated, Maria went red and began to stutter out excuses and denials, leaving me alone. I was glad because I really didn’t know if I could classify Patrick as a boyfriend.
We had fucked ourselves silly on Wednesday afternoon before I hauled myself out of bed to fix dinner. After stir-fry and cleanup, we’d watched some TV and crashed into bed for Round Three—or was it Round Four…? Hell, I didn’t keep count! Was I supposed to count orgasms? Mine or his?
All I can say is that I was sore as anything—in a good way—and slept curled up next to Patrick all night. The next morning he groaned in my ear and declared that his arse was way too sore for anything more, so we just did a mutual jerk-off in the shower.
Oh, yeah…. And I gave Patrick a blowjob an hour later as he was waiting for the taxi to arrive to take him to work.
And he was expecting me home in an hour.
His home, I mean—although I could get very attached to calling it my home, since it was the place I spent the most of my waking hours during the week.
And I was wearing his clothes because I hadn’t been back to my place in over twenty-four hours. I discreetly sniffed at the collar of the shirt I wore to make sure it still smelled like him. It did.
Maria huffed a bit—over my sly dig at her having a boyfriend and my inattention—before I gently grilled her about money and bills, and my least favorite subject, our mother. To my surprise, Maria admitted that Mum had managed to keep off the booze and cigarettes for another five days since I had last seen her.
“She actually made me dinner last night, Jake! I couldn’t believe it. It didn’t turn out half bad, either. The potatoes were undercooked and the peas mushy, but she managed to prepare a healthy meal without my help.”
“That’s great, Maria.”
She shook her head and stared at me in fright. “No way, bro. It’s like The Twilight Zone or something. She’s still sick with that stomach flu crap and all. I can hear her heaving in the toilet sometimes.”
I grimaced. “That’s withdrawal, doll. She’s fighting the booze urge and she’ll get really sick for a bit. She’ll be vomiting and have the shakes for a while. She’ll go through periods where she won’t sleep for a couple of days, then crash out and sleep for twenty hours straight. Watch out for the mood swings and just give her plenty of coffee. That seemed to help last time she tried to quit.”
I didn’t want to tell Maria that Mum had lasted all of two weeks before diving back into it that time. I smiled my encouragement. “Are you going to be okay if Mum gets bad? I can come over for an hour most days, but I have to work seven days a week.”
Maria shrugged. “I’ll be okay. I’ll call if it’s something I
can’t handle.”
“Okay. Shall we go and wake her up now?”
Together we woke her and listened to her toss her cookies for a bit. Time was marching on, so I chucked together a casserole for them and popped it in the oven before leaving. I didn’t like to catch the bus after dark, so they didn’t say anything about my quick exit, and I didn’t tell them that the real reason I was eager to get out of there was to get back to Patrick.
Pathetic, Jake. Totally whipped, you are!
I took the bus into Fremantle, then transferred to the one that ran nearest to Patrick’s place. My bike was still leaning against his house when I arrived just before seven o’clock. Darkness was falling rapidly, and I took a moment to wonder how Patrick fared being in the dark 24/7.
I dug my keys out of my pocket and unlocked his front door. “Patrick?”
My voice echoed through the house as I punched in the numbers on the alarm system. No voice came back and no dog came running to meet me. I frowned in consternation.
As if he were thinking about me too, my phone began to jingle in my pocket and I quickly answered. “Hello?”
“Jake? Where are you? I’m stuck in traffic.”
“Oh, hey, Patrick. I just arrived at your place. Where are you, mate?”
There was a brief murmured conversation that I couldn’t quite hear as Patrick asked the taxi driver their current location. “The driver says just before Riseley Street. Does that make sense to you? I don’t know this area.”
“Yeah. Okay, then. It’s going to take you a bit to get home. What do you fancy for dinner? I’ll put something on.”
I could hear the smile in his voice as he answered. “Whatever you feel like. I’m not fussy. Just make sure it’s something that can be consumed quickly so that we can get on to dessert as fast as possible.”
“Dessert?” I questioned.
He was definitely smiling now. I could almost see him in the back of the taxi with Gregor and a big grin on his face. “Yes, dessert. I owe you for the kitchen episode this morning.”
“The kitchen…? Oh!” My face flamed as I finally caught on to his meaning. I couldn’t stop a grin of my own stealing across my face as my voice lowered to an intimate level. “You mean when I got down on my knees, wrapped my lips around your hard cock, and sucked until you came in my mouth? Do you mean that, Patrick? Do you mean that you now owe me a blowjob because you went off to work happily and left me with a huge boner that I just had to go and take care of? Do you want to know that I jerked off in your bed? The bed where you fucked me silly last night? The bed where I had the greatest pleasure in sucking you off before I took my rock-hard cock and put it in your delectable arse and took that sweet hole for the best fucking ride of my life? Do you want to know that I’m now standing in your kitchen with my hand on my dick, touching myself, thinking about your gorgeous mouth and how much I would love to fuck it?”
There was a pause on the other end of the line, although I could hear Patrick’s ragged breathing. Eventually, he whispered, “Fuck! You bugger!”
I chuckled loudly, imagining him getting aroused in the car and unable to do anything about it. “You were the one who started it. Shall I wait for you to come home, or should I go and jerk off in your bed again?”
“Oh, God!” he practically wailed. “If you do, you’re dead meat! You have to wait until I get home. And when I do, you are in so much trouble. I’m going to….”
He hesitated and I heard him suck in a deep breath. I laughed at him, “Yeah? I can’t wait. See you when you get home, baby.”
Before he could reply, I stabbed at my mobile screen and disconnected the call, chuckling the whole time.
He arrived home thirty minutes later. I had dinner cooking and was making a batter for pancakes as dessert. I heard the key in the lock and the jingle of Gregor’s harness and collar as they came through the door.
“Honey, I’m home!” Patrick called cheekily as he entered.
“I’m barefoot in the kitchen,” I called back, stifling a grin at his humor. Gregor trotted past me, relieved from duty and on his way to check out his bowl, and I could hear Patrick hanging up his gear. “I hope you feel like steak and veg for dinner, because that’s what you’re getting. And I’m also whipping up some panca—”
I was interrupted by a tackle from behind. Patrick grabbed me around my waist and flung me around until I was pushed into the kitchen table. I managed to drop the bowl with the pancake batter on the bench, where it clattered for a moment before settling, but I accidently hung on to the wooden spoon I was using to stir. Yellow batter went flying across the kitchen, spattering sticky mess on the bench and floor.
“Hey!” I protested, only to find myself bent over the table with my arse in the air and a horny, aroused male behind me, pushing his hard cock at my butt. I laughed, “Well, hello to you too. Does this mean you missed me?”
Patrick stopped attacking my neck with his lips in order to growl at me. “Every stupid minute of the day. Now, I’ve been home nearly a whole minute. Why aren’t you naked?”
I was reveling in his spontaneity and horniness. The grin on my face was as wide as the ocean, and my cock was definitely sitting up and taking notice. It was the batter oozing down my hand that brought me back to earth. “Did I happen to mention steak and veg? Can we eat first or else those steaks in the grill are going to set the fire alarms off in about five minutes.”
Patrick groaned. “Really? Can we eat later?”
I thought about it. “But that means we have to get cleaned up and dressed again in order to eat. If we eat now, then we can stay in bed naked for the rest of the night.”
Patrick’s head dropped to my shoulder as he weighed the variables. He bucked into me a couple of times before moaning a huge sigh of resignation. “Damn. Okay, we’ll eat now.” He rocked against me a couple more times, then whispered, “But I’m sure I can make you come in less than five minutes.”
I laughed again and pushed him away. “I betcha you could too. But as I mentioned previously, the steaks are already cooking and I’m about to whip up some pancakes. Patience is a virtue, I’ve heard. So be virtuous and go and wash your hands.” He backed away from me. “Careful, now. You made me spill batter on the floor to your right, so go left as not to step in it before I can clean it up.”
Dinner that night was nice. Yes, we were both half-aroused and wanting to move on to the bedroom, but we kept a lid on it and ate like civilized people. It made me feel special. It made me think I was someone worthwhile in his life, instead of just a willing body or someone he wanted for the moment.
Patrick picked up his pancake in his fingers and rolled it in a long tube before biting down on the end. “This is wonderful. Shall I cook tomorrow night? It will have to be something simple, but I can do it.”
I mopped up some spilt honey with the last bit of my pancake stack and popped it in my mouth. “Can’t. I’m working, remember? I’ll be finishing up here at two o’clock before going to deliver papers. Then I’m due at The Tav at six. I won’t get off until nearly two in the morning so I’ll be going straight home to bed. I could come over for a couple of hours around lunchtime on Saturday if you want?”
My own disappointment was reflected in his eyes. “I forgot about that.”
“Yeah. Sorry, but I need the money. How about if I come around and we go out somewhere? You can choose where. We could take Gregor to the park or down the river or something? Point Walter is not too far away to walk to, and we could have some coffees and something at the café. If you promise to only order a coffee and cake, I could pay for it and it could be a real date.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, why not?” I couldn’t understand his hesitation. Did he not want to be seen with me?
He frowned at me. “You actually want to be seen with me?”
Now it was my turn to frown at him. “Yes, of course. I know that beside you I look like the ugly stepsister from Cinderella, but you don’t mind people staring at
you and wondering what the hell you’re doing with riffraff like me, do you? It’s not like you can see them do a double take or anything. I’ll have the worse part—people coming over to hit on you, thinking that you’d be willing to dump me in an instant.”
He gave me a half grin, amused at my teasing but not completely comfortable with whatever was bothering him. “But, seriously, Jake. I don’t think you realize what you’re letting yourself into by going out in public with me.”
“What do you mean?”
“Jake, I’m blind.”
I rolled my eyes at him. This sounded like last week and trying to convince him to come to The Tav. “Yes, Patrick. I’m well aware of the fact that you’re blind. But that doesn’t mean you can’t leave the house. You go to work most mornings, so I know you can. If this… thing… between us is just a quick fuck and you don’t want to go out, then let me know. I’m a big boy now and can handle rejection.” I was starting to get angry with him. “I know I’m not the best catch out there, but your reputation will not be tarnished if you’re seen having a coffee with me.”
He was shaking his head at me. “You don’t understand.”
My temper was rising at his obstinacy. Then a dreadful thought occurred to me. “What, then? Is there someone else?”
“No! Of course not! How can you think that? Is there someone else for you?”
“Ha. How the hell can you think that?”
His look was pure astonishment. “Jesus, Jake. You forced me to go down to that pub last Friday and I had to sit there and listen to everyone tell me over and over again how bloody wonderful and good-looking you are. Your mates tell me you’re a top bloke, then half of them go on to tell me they have been after you for ages, but you never screw around with friends, much to their great disappointment. Then the women come over and ask about you. Most of them have figured you’re gay and wanted to double check with me that you didn’t have a thing for women every now and then, because they would take you in an instant. The rest of them just wanted me to sit and commiserate with them that you didn’t look twice in their direction. I was bloody jealous all night, thinking that you could pick and choose at will and that you’d never pick me in a hundred years.”
