Fire

byDWSimon©

My name is Sam. I’m a firefighter. As the city was in the grips of an arsonist, I found my destiny. I wasn’t looking for it, but I don’t think anyone ever is. I knew I was gay, really understood what it meant, when I was thirteen. I remember looking through the big holiday catalogs when I was younger than that, looking for toys and finding the men’s underwear section and staring, enjoying what I saw. I didn’t understand what I felt though. But when I was thirteen, it all changed. I was with a friend; we spent the summer discovering the wonders of love. But the following year, during Labor Day weekend, Jake was killed in a boating accident. He was gone and I spent the rest of my time alone. No one wanted to play like Jake did. Okay, I was afraid of rejection and ridicule.

I graduated from high school and entered college. While there I fucked for the first time. He was a slut, but I was horny. I used a condom and fucked him rough. He was loose and he had greased himself up before I got there. From that point forward, I chose to have discreet encounters. I didn’t kiss and I never bottomed or forgot a condom. While in college, I became a volunteer in the fire department. When I graduated, I joined the force full time. I moved up the ranks, being known as fearless. I did my job and enjoyed it.

Unfortunately, I wasn’t out to my coworkers. These men, and a few women, are your family. You must trust them with your life and accept that they trust you with theirs. But I couldn’t tell them I was gay. I wasn’t ashamed, but I kept it a secret. If I had been out before I started work, maybe I would have been open to them. But I don’t know. I stood in the showers with them and I noticed them, but they were my coworkers, not items of desire. I had a few personal rules about whom I sleep with: no one at work, and no wedding rings. I never understood how anyone could be both gay and married. Wedding vows are sacred, even if I will never get to say them.

Only one of my coworkers did I look at twice. His name was Bill. He was thirty-three and married. He and his wife had seven kids. He was handsome, very quiet, and one of the hardest workers I have ever met. He was a friend and my mentor. I loved him like a brother and would gladly lay down my life for him. But what made me look at him was his manner with his wife. Whenever the two of them were together, it was as if everything else faded. They knew where the other was in a room. There was always a gentle touch or kiss. They looked in each other’s eyes and you wanted to look away because it felt like you were intruding on something very personal and intimate. When I would see him, I knew he never, ever cheated on her. A few of the other guys were like that, content and happy with their wives.

I wasn’t open about it, but I do get out from time to time. My hand did okay for a few weeks, a couple of months. But sometimes I needed to be with someone every once in a while. So I would head out to the lone gay bar in town. I would hang out for a bit and then make a move. I never forget a face and I never went home with the same guy twice. Once at their place, I would go at it all night if I wanted, but I would leave before dawn. One of the arsonist’s first targets was the bar I hung out at. So after a few weeks, I ended up at the bar that most of the firefighters hang out at. It was called ‘O’ Tooles’ and was started by a firefighter forced to retire due to burns and injuries. He left it to his nephew when he died. Unfortunately, the nephew died a few years ago, leaving it to someone who no one ever saw. I do go there for parties and celebrations with the crew, but that night, all I wanted was a few drinks.

While sitting there, drinking quietly at the bar, I saw him. He was tending bar away from me, but there was something about him. I didn’t think it was his looks, maybe the way he carried himself, but I could tell he was attracted to me. We did the silent flirting that two people tend to do. I watched him pour drinks, but his eyes were seldom away from mine. I sat there and cataloged him. He was about five-eleven and had black hair. His dark eyes and luscious, full lips were always smiling. His hair was short, wavy and a little spiky. He was beautiful. His olive skin hinted at ancestors kissed by the Mediterranean sun. I kept thinking more and more erotic thoughts about him.

I decided to step up the seduction and polished off my drink and signaled for another. While fixing it, he talked to me. Turns out his name’s Max. He owns the bar, had for the past few years, but didn’t work there until recently. He was a chef and usually worked in the kitchen but was covering for the regular bartender. We chatted and talked, shared a few coy laughs. We decided to head out to his place.

I drove, following Max. We ended up at an apartment complex. It was five stories, and had twenty units to it, four per floor. Max was on four, at the end. Once inside, Max became nervous. Not enough to ask me to leave, but enough that I slowed things down. He fixed us something to eat. It was a mixture of bacon and cheese on top of crackers. It was hot and spicy and tasted delicious. He was an amazing cook obviously. I didn’t want to hear the small talk; I just wanted a fuck. But, I could pull back and make nice.

I found out Max and his former partner took over the bar from his uncle. Max worked in a restaurant downtown that I had heard of, but never went to. When Max’ partner, John, died in a car accident, Max inherited the bar. He didn’t go near it for the first couple of years after he died, but he decided to go for it. I admired the courage to give up a well-liked, good paying job and devote yourself to someone else’s dream. I told him so and he smiled, relaxed like he hadn’t been able to before. Now was the time, he was ready.

I moved toward him, like I was scenting him, ready to mate. I skimmed the backs of my fingers along his cheek. I skimmed them down to the buttons of his shirt. I started undoing them. As each button was opened, bronze skin and a light sprinkling of silky, black hair was revealed. I felt warm skin and rippling muscle as I moved lower and lower. I felt the ridges of his stomach and how they trembled below my hand. Max was breathing heavily, panting. His eyes were glassy.

I slipped his shirt off him, enjoying the sight of his well-shaped torso. He was nicely defined and his chest hair thinned to a silky, thin trail down to his waistband. I moved down to his feet and slipped off his shoes and pulled off his socks. His feet were strong, slightly sprinkled with more dark hair, and warm. I ran my hand up his legs; they were thick and sturdy. I enjoyed their shape and strength. I undid his belt and the top button of his jeans. I undid the snaps of his fly and pulled them away from him. I skimmed the heavy denim off his legs so he was sitting before me in tight, white briefs. They were tented and such a contrast to his dark skin and darker hair. I slid them down and off and admired his erection, which was long, thick and straight. He was dripping and it was an angry, aroused red more so than just a little petting would indicate. I wondered how long it had been for him.

I knelt in front of the couch and leant towards him. I tasted the salty, dripping tip, enjoying the flavor. He arched and moaned. I took him slowly into my mouth, swirling my tongue, trying to wring pleasure from him. I let the flare of his head snag on my lips, tugging gently, forcing further moans out of Max. I pursed hard and added as much suction as I could before diving for the base, lodging him in my throat. I felt him buck his hips, grinding the head into my soft palette. I liked the slight tickle of his generous, silky pubic hair against my nose. I may never kiss or bottom, but I never leave my partner unsatisfied.

I kept a brisk pace on him, moving him in and out of my throat expertly. My tongue complimented my mouth and I had him in warm, wet ecstasy. He reached out and ran his fingers through my hair. The gesture was tender and warm. It made me feel uncomfortable. This was just sex, it wasn’t supposed to be romantic. So to keep him off-kilter, I sped up on him. I felt him thicken, his testicles raised and his breath came in harsh pants. The end was near. With one final, deep plunge, I felt him release. His first spurt was lost down my throat, but I caught and savored the rest. I kept it in my mouth, feeling his thick essence and tasting his sweetness.

I pulled off Max and looked at him. He had a silly grin and a vacant, sated look in his eyes. I flipped him over the arm of the couch and quickly stripped. I grabbed a condom and sheathed myself. I knelt between his legs on the couch and lowered so I could let his cum lubricate the next step. I spit it into his crack and worked it into him with a couple of fingers. He was tight and clasped me with a great rhythm. I couldn’t wait to be inside him. I grasped his shoulders and pushed against him slightly. He parted for me and I slid into a velvet fist. His sheath clung to me, begging me to go deeper. I started to move slowly, amazed at how easily Max was taking my length. He was totally relaxed and moved with me expertly. His motions were driving me over the edge. Each time I would pull out, his inner muscles pulled me back. I was building quickly.

I had him pinned to the couch, arching into him with each thrust. Both of Max’ hands were bracing him on the floor. I kept pushing, feeling my load build. I had never been with anyone so completely able to let go and just get into the fuck. He didn’t cry and whine about my overly endowed size, he just let me move and met me courageously. I felt myself thicken, tightening up. My stomach muscles clenched, becoming a tough washboard. My thighs became weak and my back arched involuntarily. I cried out as I emptied myself into the condom. With one final, deep thrust, I felt Max let go, clamping me as he found his own release. I was amazed. I had been with others and none of them got off without a reach around or they themselves jerking off. But he was cumming and cumming hard. His cries were animalistic groans and I was charmed and humbled that I brought him to this moment.

I slid out of him and sat back on the couch, trying to catch my breath. Max rolled over and sat beside me, also trying to regain his breath. After a couple of minutes, he looked at me. I don’t know why but we both burst out laughing. It felt good to laugh with someone. It also felt good sitting next to someone who was naked and just as sexually drained as you are. I noticed the differences between us. I am about six-three. Where he has dark hair, mine is golden. His chest is lightly, sparsely covered; mine is thick, almost too thick to run your fingers through. It is springy and soft and covers me from collarbone to waist. It is only thin after my abdominal muscles end. I have a patch over my ass but that is also very hairy, as are my legs and arms to about mid-biceps. The contrast was different and I liked it, a lot. Which is probably why I started to feel uncomfortable and started getting dressed. Max looked a little confused then some sort of wall came up as he walked me to the door. I had never been at a loss for something to say; usually some banality or false promise. But I couldn’t do that to Max. There was something different about him. I just didn’t want to analyze it. I wanted out, where I wouldn’t feel this flighty need to run. I turned from him and left, knowing I had probably hurt him.

Try as I might, sleep eluded me that night. I kept thinking about how different Max was from the previous, nameless guys I had been with. He reminded me of Jake. Not in his appearance, but in my reaction to him. Normally a good fuck and I was fine. I hardly thought of it once I was home, other than to acknowledge that I was sated. But I couldn’t stop thinking of the physical perfection that we had shared. I finally drifted off about an hour before dawn and awoke to sweaty sheets and an erection so hard that it hurt. I took a long cold shower and finally jerked off to get it to go away, all the while thinking of the previous night.

I found myself thinking a lot about Max over the next couple of days. It got to the point that two nights after our initial encounter had me back in that bar. I told myself it was for a drink, but the moment I saw him behind the bar I knew I was full of shit. I wanted another round. From the frosty look I got, I knew it was going to be an uphill battle. But it was too good for me to give in so easily. I sat down and ordered a drink, forcing Max to come over and deliver it to me. He did so, but rather than anger, he was smiling at me. He told me he was glad to see me. Now I am totally confused. I was all set to appease his hurt, and he didn’t need it. I asked him if he wanted to leave with me. He nodded and I polished off my drink then drove to his place. He showed up about ten minutes later.

He wasn’t nervous this time. We went straight to his bedroom and stripped. He demonstrated his oral talent on me. I was writhing in ecstasy. He was magnificent. I didn’t want to cum so soon. I pulled him away, his mouth kept moving as he moved off me. I almost came knowing he was that into me. I grabbed the condom from my wallet and covered myself. I had Max straddle me and I let him ride. He moved expertly. Each motion had both of us moaning. This time, I could watch passion flow over his face. Each movement had him in pleasure’s grip as well. I pulled him forward, so he had to brace his body with his arms. I liked the bunching and cording of his muscles as he supported his fast undulations. I reached forward and took his nipple in my mouth as I gripped his hips. I didn’t try to slow him, he had set too good a pace, but I wanted a connection to him, other than cock to ass. I suckled his nipple, biting then laving the tight nub. He cried out harshly to my ministrations. I liked feeling his smooth, warm skin below my mouth and hands. I felt him thicken where he lay against my hairy belly. I was shocked, but it felt like he was going to shoot. I felt him clamp me and cry out as the first spurt hit my neck. Each shot got shorter and shorter on my body, but it was hot and thick. I felt him clamp me with each rhythmic blast. His orgasmic waves milked me, took me by surprise as I tripped over the edge with him. I gripped his hips and ground hard into him. I must have hit it just right, but Max clamped on me and came again. His cries were almost painful as he shot another healthy load across my belly. It was almost as hot as fire. He collapsed on top of me, cum squelching between us, running down my sides. I wrapped my arms around him, loving–no liking–the connection.

Max lay with his head on my chest, breathing slowly. His arms lay loosely on either side of me. I was still lodged inside him. I had never stayed in place before. I liked it. The tenderness and possessiveness I was feeling were new to me. But I genuinely liked Max. We were perfect in bed together. He was so open about what he was feeling. Normally I would be out the door, but instead I was humbled that he would choose to be so open with me. I needed this and like the worthless bastard I am, I took as much as I could get. I rolled us over and looked in his eyes. I asked if he was up for another go. He laughed at the innuendo and nodded. I changed a used condom for a fresh one and joined up with him again. Normally I don’t face whom I’m sleeping with. But I had enjoyed watching him too much not to. I rubbed my hairy body over his as I glided in and out of him. Our height difference put us at the right level to kiss, but I held back. This was new territory, but I couldn’t cross that line.

I know Max wanted me to kiss him, he angled up a few times, but each time, I turned my head so his kiss hit my neck. After a couple of tries, he got the hint and just nuzzled my neck and the hollow of my throat. I felt bad, but not bad enough. I felt him hard and wet between our bellies. As my time came closer, I lowered my head to his shoulder and bit hard as I came. With my final deep plunge, he tripped over the edge and spurted between us.

I felt bad because I couldn’t give him what he wanted. This guilt was new to me. I didn’t like it. But I pushed it aside and grabbed Max and headed for the shower. I washed us both up; he was limp like a wet noodle. I felt pride that I had brought him to this pleasure. I pushed him against the wall and knelt in front of him. I took him in my mouth. I moved over him. I loved his flavor. I loved the steely strength as it pushed past my lips. I loved knowing I was bringing him pleasure. I kept up my motions, bringing Max to the brink and then gently tripping him over the edge, sucking and nibbling to prolong the experience. When he was drained, he slid down the shower wall to face me. He tried to smile, but he was too sleepy, too sated. I chuckled and turned off the water and dried us both. I weigh about two-forty and it is all muscle. I easily picked Max up and carried him to bed. I covered him up and smiled at him as he nestled into the sheets, drifting slowly to sleep. Before I could catch myself, I leaned down and kissed his forehead. The tender gesture caused him to grin. That alone made the discomfort worth it. I slipped on my clothes and left. On the drive home, I kept reliving that simple kiss and the following grin. I felt myself smile as I crawled into my own bed and fell asleep.

The next four days were hell. The arsonist was stepping up his attacks. We were called out to three or four a night. We all work ten-hour days, supposedly four on and three off. But with the latest crisis, we have been working six days a week. We were all a little punch drunk and looking forward to getting off when we got the call. We had a duplex that had exploded due to some paint cans and gasoline kept in the garage. We headed over to help with clean up. Then we got word that someone was in the farthest bedroom. Bill and I ran in and got to the room. There was a three-year-old sitting in her bed, screaming. I grabbed her and headed out. Bill was right behind me. I made it outside and got her to the paramedics. I turned but there was no Bill. He hadn’t come out. I turned back to find him. We did eventually.

The floor in the stairs had given way. He had fallen into a closet under them. His arm was broken and he had some nasty burns on the same arm. I shut out my feelings until we had him at the hospital. I called his wife myself. I kept it together, not letting guilt or remorse affect me until she got there. They had set his arm and done what they could for the burns, but they couldn’t cast the bone until the skin healed. He asked for me first. I walked into the room, expecting my best friend, my mentor to hate me. He took one look at me.

“Wipe that guilty look off your face. Damn you, it wasn’t your fault. Stop doing this to yourself.”

I couldn’t look at him. I felt so damn guilty. “You should have carried her out. I am so much heavier than you and our combined weight weakened the floor.”

He grabbed my chin and forced me to look in his eyes. “Stop that bullshit now. I will get up and beat you until you understand.” His eyes softened, as did his voice. “It was not your fault. Stop blaming yourself. God knows I don’t.”

I couldn’t face him anymore. I didn’t deserve his forgiveness. “You don’t have to blame me, I blame myself.”

I left the hospital, knowing I shouldn’t. But guilt had me in its grips. I don’t know how long I drove around. I should have been surprised, but I wasn’t when I pulled up in front of Max’s. I knocked on his door. After a few minutes, a very sleepy Max opened it. I didn’t say a word, he just pulled me inside and we sat down on the couch. I told him everything, all about Bill, the fire, everything. He didn’t try to tell me it wasn’t my fault. He just listened, holding my hand. I know I cried at some point. All he did was grip my hand tighter.

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