A Helping Hand

I share an bachelor apartment with a really nice guy who is about my age - 35 or so - and we have a harmonious household. Stephen takes care of the bills, and does handy work when things break. I, on the other hand, take naturally to housekeeping. I like seeing things clean and in order. I'm a good cook, too. Stephen is often content with a burrito for dinner, eating it out of its foil wrapper. But I surprise him now and then and spend time in the kitchen making something special.

Now, there's been a new and important development in the household dynamics. Stephen has a girlfriend! They met at a party in the neighborhood, and gradually began to see more of each other. Finally, of course, Jill stayed over. Our two bedrooms are right next to each other. That night, I lay quietly and listened to the distant sound of traffic, and to the hushed voices from the next room. There was laughter, too, and I was feeling glad for my roommate.

I awoke that night to a soft, rhythmic thudding sound coming from Stephen's room. 'Of course', I thought. 'They are humping'. What a wonderful sound! In the midst of it, I heard muffled, breathless voices - protestations of lust, i imagined. I held my face into the pillow, and thought of how their bodies might be arranged. Doggie-style? It seemed a position Stephen might favor. He's very much a top man, and I know he likes checking out women from behind. Sometimes, when we're out doing something together, he may comment on women.

"Wouldn't mind getting to know her better.", he would say as a good-looking woman walked by. I always felt a twinge of jealousy in those instances.

Stephen knows I'm bi, and he seems cool with it. Still, maybe deep down, he thinks of me as just another fag; someone he need't concern himself with in the realm of competition for women.

Once, sitting in the living room, Stephen noticed me looking at his crotch. My eyes flew from his as he observed this. Could you blame me, though? One could easily see that Stephen had a nice package between his legs. I noticed it early on. I'm sure my eyes opened wide at the first sight of his bulge. Since then, I keep a discreet lookout for a chance to admire his groin or his ass. Skinny as he is (he laments his lack of upper-body development), he is built quite well where it counts. When he caught me looking where I shouldn't have been, he, compassionately, I thought, reminded me of his unvarying heterosexuality. I remember that I apologized, and went straight to my room. The next day, he was very kind. He told me that he loved me, that I was a great friend. He reached out and hugged me, and I felt the happiness, however brief, of being in his arms.

Let me tell you more about Stephen. (Did you happen to notice that I am obsessed with him?!) Well, he's tall, about 6'3", and lean. He's more intellectual than athletic. He reads widely. He never hesitates to make his opinion known, and he judges people harshly who are cowardly or vain. Stephen has curly black hair and a full beard. The rest of his body is fairly hair-free. He's of Irish descent, so his skin is very white.

Once, along with a woman friend, we three took a hot tub together. The tub was outside on a patio, and the moon was nearly full. As I sat with the fabulous hot water up to my neck, Stephen emerged from the house buck-naked, and headed to the tub where we two were.

"Check out the stud", said Ellen, and I couldn't have agreed more! Of course, she may have been ribbing him about his skimpy musculature. I, however, saw a god approaching. The tall figure, the skin shining eerily in the moonlight, the genitals swinging gently from side-to-side as he came closer. Later, when he climbed out, his gorgeous, manly butt made its indelible imprint on my psyche.

So, I allowed, over time, that I was in love with my roommate. As you may have surmised from what I've already said, I fell comfortably into the role of housewife, and I secretly savored it, sometimes imagining, alone in my room, being his woman. Otherwise, I took it as far as seemed practical: buying him gifts for birthday and Christmas, picking up after him, etc. I was content. I knew he was straight all the way.

Once Jill came on the scene, I at first kept a low profile. It pained me to see them having intimate talks or exchanging kisses. Jill sensed what was up with me and tried to steer me towards dating services.

"You could have a hunky guy in no time flat, Jim". She would say. "I'd be looking your way if you were straight."

A lot of good that did me! The only way I wanted to see her body was with Stephen's fine cock pounding it. And don't think I hadn't imagined it.

Stephen hung some old tapestry on the wall of his room adjacent to mine in the hope of gaining more privacy. It helped, but I could still hear. In fact, I would often press my ear to the wall when they were fucking. I could hear quite well! When they were really in high gear, Jill tended to talk to him, calling him all kinds of things: 'cock-daddy', 'Mr Stud', etc.

She had a way of exciting him with words, saying, perhaps: 'You're driving my pussy crazy, baby. Did you know that?' or, "Don't stop fucking me,Stephen.'

Stephen, in such moments, was simply focused on slamming her good, from the sounds of it. He was like a pit-bull who doesn't growl when it's fighting, saving his energy for what mattered. It shames me to confess that on nights when Jill stayed over, we all three came together - they, with unbridled moans that they could in no way stifle, and me silently spilling onto my belly and whispering Stephen's name over and over.

They had been in an intimate relationship for many months when Jill went to New Hampshire to help with family matters. She was unsure of how long she'd be gone. Her parents were selling their large house at the ocean, and neither of them had time to prepare it for sale, or for dealing with the realtor. Both were professors with very full schedules.

Stephen got the news a week before, and questioned why it had to be her taking care of it.

"Look, hon, they need me. Carla is in Prague, for pete's sake. She can't do it."

"Some excuse." Stephen sulked. "How long will it be?"

"I told you. I don't know. Maybe a few weeks, maybe more. Please don't make me feel guilty." she said, looking crestfallen. "How about a little support, eh?"

'I'm sorry. It's just... well, it's not easy!"

"It's not forever, you horny little devil." Jill said, giving him a quick kiss. "It's nice to know I'll be missed, though!"

"It's not just the sex, although that's significant. I've never been so happy with a woman."

"Hey, we'll talk every day, won't we?"

"Yeah. Yeah, sure." Stephen said, hanging his head. "I guess I was kind of thinking of myself."

"Like you're the only one. Come on, let's go to Dana's for lunch. It's not that crowded on Tuesdays."

Jill left four days ago. I feel as though I am in limbo. Let me explain.

I decided to take a great chance,an especially big one for a normally timid guy like me. Seeing Stephen's sorrowful countenance in the hours following Jill's departure, and watching him sit slumped on the sofa staring, I decided that I would come forward - and come clean, in a way. I wrote the following letter to Stephen. The day after they parted, I slipped it under his door in the early morning, and quietly went out.

Dear Stephen,

I know that Jill left yesterday morning. Given your ardor for Gillian, a separation from her, even a brief one, must be anguishing for you! A physical union as passionate as yours can only make the days unbearably long when you're apart.

I've seen the look of loneliness and thwarted desire on your face, and it pains me.

So, I was thinking: why not let me help? I know you have no sexual feelings toward me, but, still, I could serve a practical need for you. I think you know that I have feelings for you. That's true. And it is so generous of you to have accepted that reality all this time we've known each other. A lot of straight guys wouldn't have.

I'm blushing as I prepare to write what follows:

You are invited to knock on my door (or on the wall between our rooms) any time you like, and I would be happy and proud to help you feel a bit more relaxed and less tortured by Jill's absence. It could be as simple as this: You knock. You decide whether to direct me into your room or come into mine. You tell me how you would like to be pleased. You would give directions, and I would obey. It would be absolutely secret, and I would never consider that you were in my debt in any way. (If you only knew to what extent the opposite would be true!) For my part, you will hear no more on the matter should you decide against it. It will be as if this letter were never written, and I hope I can count on your discretion, as well.

Against whatever the odds, I will prepare my room for your visit. I'll have some really good weed for you, and a couple of bottles of champagne. We needn't talk. We will just focus on your happiness and pleasure. At least, if that's what you wish. I hope you will think of me not as an opportunist, but as a friend who is pained in witnessing your unhappiness. Whatever you decide, I remain your steadfast friend and supporter.

Affectionately,

Jim

Several days passed, and I began to feel regret, wondering if I'd been rash. Somehow, mostly by staying away for long periods, I didn't see Stephen in that time. Then, a week after Jill had gone, I was walking down the hall to my room when Stephen's door opened. We exchanged nervous hellos, and I began to rush into my room.

"Is that ice in that bowl, Jim?" I heard him say as I began to close the door.

"It is." I said, feeling like a prize horse's ass. I felt myself begin to perspire.

"Oh." Stephen said with a quizzical look on his face.

"It's to keep the champagne cold." I whispered, as I gently closed the door between us.

With the door secured behind me, I allowed myself to breathe. My heart raced, and I felt the full weight of my stupid blundering in the hallway. 'And what does Stephen think of me, now?' I asked myself bitterly. What a chump - keeping the champagne cold. Sure. He obviously had no intention of sharing it with me. I might as well have drunk it all myself, and tried to forget the disaster I'd engineered for myself.

And that's the doleful path I set upon that evening. I sparked up a fat joint and, tears forming in my eyes, I set to the task of getting thoroughly trashed.

I lay on my futon, and looked out at the city lights cutting through the fog. I was beginning to feel pretty good A nice nurturing buzz was taking hold. I began to relax. 'It wasn't that stupid', I told myself. 'Nothing ventured, nothing gained.' I assured myself. And although I felt a hurt deeper than anything I'd felt before, I figured that, well, I tried.

There was a light tapping on the door that brought me out of my stupor and made my hair stand on end. I heard Stephen's voice.

"Jim."

Then a few more knocks, this time louder.

"Hey, Jim!"

My heart pounded as I stood and said: "Come in."

Stephen entered. He saw the one empty champagne bottle and the unsavory look of intoxication and shame on my face.

"You're not going to drink that all by yourself, are you?" he asked, indicating the other bottle nestled in the bowl of ice.

"If you can help me with it, I think that would be for the best." I said, wondering what kind of unbearable commiseration I was in store for. There's nothing worse than the understanding words of someone you can't have.

I like to keep my room softly lit in the evening. I have several small, shaded lamps placed about the room. A welcoming atmosphere, I felt.

Stephen sat on the carpet with his back against the wall.

"We're lucky we have these views of downtown." he said as I poured him a glass and brought it over to him.

"Yeah." I said sitting a few feet away from him with my gaze directed out of the window. I was having a hard time looking at him. I got another joint going, and we shared it.

"Whew! Good stuff." Stephen exclaimed, blowing a huge cloud of smoke into the room. "Should help me sleep." he said.

"Trouble sleeping?" I asked, keenly feeling the stupidity of the question. I was getting pretty darn high, to be honest.

"Well, I just miss her so goddam much." stephen said, letting his head roll from side to side on the wall. "It's tough."

"Sure. Sure it is." I said. "About that letter..." I began, not knowing what I would say.

"Yes! The letter. Jim, I was so touched by it! Really. At first, I was not at all sure how to respond but, hey, in the end I thought, 'Well how sweet is that?'

"Really?" I said, disbelief unmistakable in my voice.

"Absolutely! Look, I know you're gay, right? That's been clear all along. And we are friends. What you offered makes sense in that regard. And I'm pretty sure you have some feeling for me."

"Stephen", I said with deep sincerity, 'Jill is about the luckiest girl anywhere. No kidding!"

"Flattery is, well... so nice to hear! Thank you, Jim."

"Anyway, I hope there are no unresolved feelings around this". I said. "I meant well."

I poured more champagne into our glasses.

As I poured, Stephen spoke to me.

"Maybe you could help me get to sleep tonight, my friend."

Bubbles slid down the side of Stephen's glass as I overfilled it.

"Sure, Stephen. I've got a couple more j's at the ready here..."

"I mean, you know..., what you suggested. In your letter, Jim." Stephen said, giving me a searching look.

"Um...Um... do you mean..." I stammered.

"Yes I do! I" Stephen replied. "I mean, at first I thought, 'this is crazy. My roommate 'taking care' of me? But, God knows, Jim, I need it! I tell you, I wake up in the middle of the night and my dick is just aching, it's so hard! I'm not going to mess around with another woman. No way. Jill is IT for me. But it would be... Jesus... it would be so nice just to get a bit of release. And that's why I'm here, Jim, to be honest."

Stephen got up from his seat and stretched. Then he went around the room, sizing up the contents.

"Nice lighting. Hey, it's okay for me to come in here to hang out, isn't it?"

This sounded like an assertion of rights rather than a polite request.

"Of course!" I approved of the idea heartily, and I LOVED the way Stephen took the reins.

"If I'm not here, then I'm not using it". I said good-naturedly.

Stephen lifted the bottle from the slushy ice and emptied the contents into our glasses.

"And when you are here and I need your room?" Stephen leveled at me.

'Shit', I thought, 'He sure knows how to take charge'.

"Well, sure! It's a big flat. Yeah, any time, Stephen."

I could feel my longing for this man manifesting beyond my control. My penis was in an uncomfortable bend in its semi-erect state, and bound up in my shorts. I didn't know if it was the possibility of servicing Stephen's cock and balls that was arousing me, or if it was the manner in which he strode about the room, claiming it as his. I loved the whole package, really. And he was no dummy. He knew I was in love with him.

Of course, I understood Stephen's bold behavior as a way of exhibiting his influence and superiority over me. Hey. No complaints! I would find ways to show him that I knew my place.

"Now, Jim, I want it to be clear from the outset that you will pleasure me and expect nothing for it."

"For me," he said, looking down at the floor, "it's just really difficult to not have someone appreciating me sexually. I suppose that's kind of vain. I miss her voice. She had special names for me."

"I get it, Stephen. You're such a passionate couple, you and Jill. Yes, it must be difficult."

I walked the two paces to where he was standing. Looking into his eyes, I slowly descended until I was kneeling before him. I was face-to-face with Stephen's crotch. There was an awkward silence. I dared not look up.

'Finally', I thought. 'I'll have his nice, warm penis in my mouth. I can't wait to taste it!'

Stephen began to loosen his belt. As he did, I took a chance and, leaning forward, I gave his hand a kiss. He said nothing, just methodically worked at removing his pants.

"I'm so excited." I said in a whisper. Perhaps I hadn't intended to speak aloud.

"What was that?" Stephen said.

Oh! You heard me."

"I thought you were saying something, that's all. Well?"

"I said I was excited." I said. I'm sure he could see me happily grinning below him.

"That's great. We should both have a good time, right?" he said, and clumsily rumpled my hair.

Stephen stepped out of his pants and, naturally, my eyes went to where his genitals pressed against the blue cotton of his briefs. I could see where the head of the penis was pressed forward, hoping for more room.

"Jim, when did you first know...you know...that you're... ."

"Oh, you mean a cocksucker?" I said, and blushed violently.

"Yeah, I guess. I was going to say"gay" but I suppose it's the same thing."

"For lots of guys, sucking cock is it. They can't get enough of it. I know I can't."

I had by then taken Stephen's pants, folded them, and place them on the floor. He now stood in T shirt, underwear, and socks. He lifted the shirt over his head. Then he hooked his thumbs into the binding of his briefs.

"Well, let's see how you like this cock." Stephen said with a touch of confidence in his words and, with that, he let his briefs fall to gather at his feet. I moved closer on my knees, picked up the still-warm underwear and the T shirt, folded them and placed them neatly with the other clothes.

Looking up from my task, I glanced at Stephen's cock which was presenting itself in profile to me. It was magnificent.

"Leave the clothes alone, and come over here." Stephen said.

I sidestepped over to him on my knees until I was directly in front of him.

"Your erection is beautiful." I said.

Stephen turned a bit from side to side to give me different views of it. He sure loved showing it off!

I was so happy that I was going to get to know Stephen's penis in an intimate way. And he seemed to be 100% behind it, as well! It was a stunning piece of man-meat. No wonder Jill was calling him all those crazy names.

Stephen had been touching himself a bit (to show me what a REAL hard-on looks like, I suppose). And, wow, did he ever have one!

I felt a thin stream of saliva run from the corner of my mouth as Stephen turned around, and before me were his two full, round ass cheeks, lightly covered in fine, dark hairs. I watched their soft,fluid movement as Stephen adjusted himself.

He turned to me. "Come closer." he said.

I was already close, but I inched up a bit more. I could feel the warmth coming off of his erection, and my nostrils savored the different aromas that tend to bloom between a man's legs.

"Tell me about my cock, Jim. Describe it for me." Stephen directed.

From my perspective, a man with a cock as fine as this one was entitled to be an egoistic show-off. Stephen was showing me who was boss.

"The length...should I get a measuring tape or...?"

"It's nine and five eighths, Jim. Six flaccid."

"So, a formidable organ, we'd have to say." and in saying this, I looked up into Stephen's eyes.

"Go on." he said.

"The shaft is of a good girth and is well-supplied with blueish veins, some very fine and dark purple, others more prominent and a lighter shade. They take strange circuitous paths. A few travel across the top of the shaft, while others go for several inches down its length.

"What about my helmet?" Stephen interrupted, and I was delighted that he did.

"Yes! Sometimes called the 'head' or 'glans'" I began, genuinely enthused to be on the topic.

"Here we have a proud example of the 'mushroom' head." I declared, and I moved around it from an inch or two away. I was enjoying the opportunity to praise Stephen in this way. It made me so horny!