"Um...we met at the A&W," Alan fumbled. His father raised an eyebrow.
"Ah...just happened to park next to each other." Alan's mind, not used to lying, seemed to be stuck in mud as he tried to come up with a plausible, but protective story.
"Goes to school...has an apartment." Alan winced inside. He shouldn't have said that, and he also realized he was omitting any reference to gender by not using personal pronouns.
"A young woman with her own apartment?" his mom commented.
Alan could tell by her tone she disapproved.
"You haven't told us her name, dear," his mother said, turning back to her breakfast.
Alan choked on a mouthful of eggs.
"Dear, you should really eat more slowly and chew carefully."
Shit. "Tommy, name's Tommy," Alan said, still coughing slightly. Again he wished he had thought this through. Why hadn't he just said he'd hung out with some of the guys from work or something?
"What an odd name for a girl," his mom said, looking at him again. "It must be short for something...like...well Thomasina? Oh, dear...she isn't a Mexican is she?"
"Martha, so what if she is a Mexican. You're the one who's saying racial prejudice is wrong. You wanted to join the March on Washington with that Martin Luther King fella," Alan's dad chided.
Alan sighed. "No, not Mexican." Although, he thought, with his dark hair, eyes and bronzed skin, Tom could be Mexican. His mood was definitely deflated now. "I better get going. Thanks for breakfast, Ma."
Alan got up, kissed his mother on the cheek and took his plate to the sink. Dusty followed him just in case.
"Did I say something wrong?" Alan heard his mother ask his father as Alan grabbed his keys and headed for the back door.
* * * *
Tom rolled over and looked at the clock. It was almost ten o'clock. "Crap!" he said and buried his face in his pillow. Gonna be late for class.
Tom sat on the side of the bed. He hadn't slept well. In fact, it was nearly two o'clock when he last remembered looking at the time. His restless night was due to the dilemma squirming around in his head. Why had he agreed to go out with this Alan guy? He never did things like that any more. His relationships with men were all about sex, not friendship or...Tom didn't even want to put a name to the 'or'. The 'or' brought back memories he'd just as soon forget.
Tom got up and went into the shower, irritated that his oversleeping precluded his workout. He hated missing a workout. Somehow, when he did he felt less of a man, less attractive and desirable. He wouldn't have time later either. He had to go into work and then he needed to take his laundry home for his mother to do. His mood darkened further knowing his father would be there.
Yet even these disturbing thoughts were tinged with something more pleasant: memories of his night with Alan. He really is a nice lookin' guy, Tom mused as he lathered up his body. He's so green. That makes him so cool to be with...so much fun to teach. Tom had begun to stroke his cock. It hardened to the stimulation and mental images of Alan. His cock was good, too. Fit in my mouth just right. Tom's strokes became more rapid. He thought of Alan's warm smile, his kind eyes, his smooth muscular body, his innocence. Tom arched his back and moaned as he creamed the side of the shower. Leaning his head against the wall he let the warm water cascade over his back. He knew the answer to the question he had asked himself earlier. For some reason he wanted to see this guy again and it wasn't just for sex. For the first time in a long while, Tom Clarkson wanted something more.
* * * *
By the time Alan got to work the discomfort that had come from his breakfast conversation with his parents had dissipated. Once again his recollections of Tom and their meeting the night before pushed aside the temporary hesitancy he had felt that morning when he had realized a relationship with a man wasn't going to be easy to explain. When Alan sat at his desk and started to organize his work schedule, he was smiling and humming as the resurgence of positive feelings about his new approach to life took control once more.
Halfway through the morning Elise, stopped by his desk. "Someone's in a very good mood this morning," she observed.
"Yeah, I guess you could say that," Alan responded, still smiling.
"And the reason for that is?"
Alan hesitated, remembering the conversation with his parents that morning. He didn't want a repeat of having to fabricate reasons for his good spirits based on half-truths. So he just said, "Things seem to be looking up for me is all."
"Hmm," Elise said, rubbing her chin and taking on a pensive expression. "Let's see. What could be going on that would make you say something like that? I know you didn't get a raise...or a promotion. I'd have heard about that. I doubt that a rich relative died and left you a fortune as you'd be out of here in a flash." She raised a finger as if the answer had just struck her. "You met someone?"
Alan must have reacted in some way that showed Elise she was on the right track because she said enthusiastically, "Ah, that's it isn't it? Okay, out with it. I want details."
Alan was flustered. Now what? Was this to be the way things had to be now he was embarking on a course that was better to be kept secret? How would Elise feel about him if she knew the person that was engendering the happy feelings was a man? Alan sidestepped the issue.
Not wanting to lie, he said, "Sometimes it's just one of those days when everything seems to be going right."
Elise smiled. "Well, I'll take your word for it, but...I think you're keeping something from your old friend. I'll find out eventually." She winked at him and walked away.
She was right on two counts. Alan was keeping something from her and she had been a good friend over the past couple of years. He had always felt he could confide in her. Not this time, however.
* * * *
Poli sci class, while usually boring from the standpoint of its content, was nevertheless made tolerable by the presence of handsome Dr. Barry. However, this morning even the sexy professor standing right in front of Tom---the man's ample basket only a few feet from his nose---couldn't rouse Tom from his preoccupation with Alan and his decision to go out with him at the end of the week.
"Mr. Clarkson?" Tom heard his name being called. Tom looked up at the professor. "Uh...yeah, Sorry, Dr. Barry. I was thinking about something."
"Hopefully it was something to do with the discussion we've been having about successful election campaigns," the professor said. "Would you grace us with the sharing of your thoughts?"
Tom had actually been thinking of what might transpire after the dinner part of the date was over, what new sexual experiences he might invite Alan to indulge in, not thoughts he could readily share with the class. Tom's mind scrambled to come up with something more appropriate. Why hadn't he at least read the chapter that had been assigned?
"Mr. Clarkson?"
"Yeah, right. Um...Eisenhower won." The class tittered.
"Very good. At least your grasp of history is intact." There were more giggles from the students. "But the question we are investigating is why he won. What was his strategy?" the prof continued. "Any thoughts on that?"
Tom wracked his brain for some fragment of an idea that would make him look less like an idiot. For, despite the fact he could give a flying fig about this class, looking bad in any context was not something Tom Clarkson relished.
Think, Tom, think, he told himself. Eisenhower was a general. Then he had been biggie in World War II. Oh, shit...
Tom took a stab in the dark. "Eisenhower was a general. World War II had recently ended. He had done a good job...and...and...uh...he made that a big part of his campaign, reminding people of his contribution to winning the war, telling them that he would bring the same leadership skills to the presidency." Tom mentally crossed his fingers that this fabricated response was somewhat close to the mark.
"Very good, Mr. Clarkson. That is exactly right," Dr. Barry said, smiling at him. The professor went on to expound on the ways Stevenson should have countered Eisenhower's approach but Tom
, feeling he had contributed enough for one day, went back to thinking about Alan, their upcoming date and what sexual delights might await him.
* * * *
Alan got up and went into the staff room for a coffee break. Trent, the handsome office manager was there with another of the accountants, Bob Baxter. Alan nodded to them as he went to the cupboard, took out a coffee mug and filled it from the coffee urn on the counter. He hadn't been listening to the men's conversation until he heard Trent say, "Then the faggot started coming on to me."
Alan turned to the table where the men were talking. "You're shittin' me!" Bob exclaimed. "Right there in the bar? What was a fairy doin' in one of our bars? Why didn't he go to one a them queer bars on the east side where he belongs?
Didn't they throw him out when they saw he was a fag?"
"That's just it," Trent continued. "You wouldn't a known the guy was queer."
"Whadda ya mean?"
"I mean, he looked like a linebacker: big, all muscle and tall. Didn't sound girly at all. There was no fuckin' way you could tell the guy was a pervert. I guess guys like that can be anywhere and you wouldn't know it. They don't all look or act like Liberace."
The men laughed.
Bob said, "Huh. You're saying they can look like us on the outside but inside they're queer as a pig with two heads?"
"That's what I'm sayin'," Trent said with a forceful nod. "Kind a creeps you out, don't it? That means they could be anywhere, even here at the office."
Trent looked up at Alan, "How about it, Daniels. You one a them queer birds?"
Alan was caught off guard. He felt himself blush. Recovering, he said with a lisp and a limp-wristed gesture, "Oh, yes, Trent. You caught me. How about a date this weekend?" Then he forced a laugh which the other two men joined in on.
Trent and Bob, still laughing, left the room. Alan's mouth was dry. He was feeling slightly schizophrenic. He was one of those men Trent and Bob had been referring to: one that presented one persona to the world on the outside, while keeping the real person hidden on the inside. Alan didn't like the feeling that that realization gave him. He'd just made a decision not to repress what, for a long time, he'd suspected about himself. But if that hidden side of him became more widely known, there would be consequences. Maybe he should reconsider. Maybe he shouldn't go out with Tom on the weekend. But the thought of not seeing the man again didn't feel right either. Hoping to put the noise of the two opposing points of view out of his head he went back to work.
* * * *
Tom sat on his table at Delph Park. He was horny as hell and needed some action as a distraction from the angst he was feeling. He had gone to work where his boss refused to accept his excuse that he had missed coming in yesterday due to allergies. The germaphobe said Tom needed to take the week off to be sure he was disease free. Was that one fuckin' night with Alan worth it? Tom asked himself. He was going to be out four days pay. Friday'd better be somethin' special. Fuck! An unsettling thought struck him. I won't be able to pay for my dinner. If Alan pays, that makes it seem like a real date. Tom didn't like that idea at all.
So, since he wasn't working and he had free time, he'd decided to go home and have his mom do his laundry. Unfortunately, the old man had been there and had started in on Tom's lack of patriotism by hiding out from the draft in school.
"You're no better than those homos who get out of doing their civic duty cuz they're queers."
Tom doubted many of those 'homos' would willingly announce to the draft board they were fags.
He'd endured the verbal abuse as long as he could and told his mother he would pick up his clothes later in the week and had left.
Because of these two events Tom had needed to get his head on straight, so he'd headed for the park.
He got there just in time for the after work cruisers to start showing up: guys on their way home from the office or construction site who wanted a quickie before heading home to the little woman. Tom was ready for them. But this just didn't seem to be his lucky night. A number of cars did arrive, carrying several guys that just did nothing for Tom's libido. He rejected one after another for reasons that seemed trivial even to him: too fat, too skinny, too tall, too short, too old. Tom wondered what was going on. He was picky, yes, but this was beyond the usual scope of his selectivity.
Finally, chiding himself for being too persnickety, he decided that no matter what, the next guy that came in to the park was going to be the one. Tom didn't have long to wait. An older sedan, covered in rust with a loud muffler roared into the lot and stopped near Tom's table. When the man driving got out Tom almost went back on his word to himself. The guy looked like a teenager, jailbait for sure. But he was pretty attractive and Tom was getting anxious to have his needs met and get rid of his restlessness.
The guy walked right up to Tom and said, "How's it goin'?" "Fine."
"Wanta take a little walk?" the kid asked.
"Yeah, I do. But you look pretty young to be hangin' out here. How old are you?"
"Old enough," came the defensive retort. "Prove it," Tom said.
The kid sighed. "I get this all the fuckin' time." He took his wallet out of his pants pocket and showed Tom his driver's license.
Satisfied he wasn't going to be hauled off to jail for child molestation, Tom said, "Okay, follow me."
He took the kid to the same grotto-like place where he and the muscle man had made it the other night. When they arrived, the men stood facing each other. Tom reached out and began to fondle the kid's package. The guy was already fully hard and growled softly as Tom squeezed his balls. The kid started to reciprocate, pressing his hand against Tom's hardening dick. With his free hand, Tom massaged the guy's chest, then reached around and explored his ass. Tom was getting excited.
"What do you want to do?" Tom asked, knowing his goal was to fuck the kid.
"Can I suck you?"
Tom chuckled, "Be my guest."
The kid dropped to his knees and unzipped Tom's shorts. He pulled Tom's hard dick out through the fly and began to suck. Tom closed his eyes; thoughts of Alan immediately came into his head. Maybe this was one of the things Tom would teach Alan on Friday. He'd like to have Alan suck him off.
As Tom was coming close to climax, he pulled off.
The kid looked up, questioning. "Did I do something wrong?"
"No, I don't want to cum that way. I want to fuck you. That okay with you?"
The kid smiled and nodded. He got up, dropped his pants, turned around and bent over.
Tom knelt behind him and massaged his ass cheeks. Cute little butt, Tom thought. He began licking and biting that cute little butt, finally spreading the smooth cheeks and running his tongue up and down the crack. Ultimately Tom zeroed in on the puckered, pink hole. Tom tongued the ass entry and spit on it until it began to relax and he could insert two, then three, fingers. The kid seemed to enjoy the penetration and leaned back into the pressure, moaning as he did so. Tom stood and slicked his dick with spit and pre-cum, pressed the head against the hole and entered with a groan.
"Oh, yeah, man. That's it. Fuck me, baby, fuck me hard." Tom did just that. Sliding his rigid cock in and out of the kid, pulling him against him with his hands on the guy's hips, Tom could hear his legs slap against the kid's cute buns. He could feel his balls swing back and forth with every plunge in that tight chute. After several minutes Tom came, thrusting himself tightly against the kid's hole. Tom could feel his dick pulsate as he pumped his load into the kid's body.
Breathing heavily, Tom pulled out. The kid turned around and put one arm around Tom's waist, leaned against him and put his head on Tom's shoulder. The guy stroked himself to climax as Tom ran his hand over the kid's back and nuzzled his hair. Just as he felt the warm jizz hit his stomach, Tom realized their actions bordered on being affectionate. The thought confused him momentarily and when the kid looked up into Tom's eyes, Tom knew the boy wanted to kiss him. The look on the kid's face mirrored that on Alan's from the night before,
a look that said what they had done meant something more than mere sex. Tom panicked and pushed the kid away. After putting his dick into his shorts, Tom turned and walked out of the grotto. He didn't slow down until he was out of the park, almost to his apartment.
Once inside, Tom lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling. What's gain' on with me? he asked himself. This ain't gonna happen. I ain't gonna go out with Alan. No way.
Chapter 7: The Date
Friday had finally arrived---the day Tom had alternately dreaded and eagerly anticipated all week. He had swung from wondering what was tempting him to veer from the rules he had set for himself regarding relationships with guys, to looking forward to exploring what might lie ahead for him with Alan.
On Tuesday, after his encounter with the twink in the park, Tom had decided there was no way he would follow through on the date with Alan.
By Wednesday morning Tom was daydreaming about the sexual adventures he and Alan would have as he jerked himself off lying on his back on the workout bench.
Thursday morning Tom had plotted ways to get out of going out with Alan all together by not being home when he came to pick him up. However, Thursday afternoon he'd headed for Delph Park, his sole purpose to do something he rarely did: hustle someone to get the money to pay for his part of the dinner so it would seem less like a date. He'd scored when he found the troll from last week sitting on a table looking like a sure target for easy cash.
Twenty minutes later and twenty-five dollars richer, Tom had headed home feeling he'd made his contribution to queer charity by enduring one of the worst blowjobs he'd ever received. Only fantasies of what was to come with Alan had made it possible for him to get off.
By bedtime Tom had found himself hugging his pillow and wondering what it would be like to spend the entire night wrapped in Alan's arms.
Graffiti Page 6
