My Phantom Lover

“Feeling better?” Steve asked, after we’d been soaking for about twenty minutes.

“Yeah, I really am. Just a little sore across my back.”

“Maybe I can help that. I’m told I give a good massage.”

His hands all over me. Oh, sure, I’m going to turn THAT down.

“That would be great.” I was so excited I had to remind myself to breathe.

We got out of the tub and Steve went into the bathroom, emerging in a few seconds with a pile of towels. We dried ourselves off and he flipped the down comforter off the bed and spread a dry towel on the bottom sheet. I laid on it, face down.

“I’ve got some massage lotion in here somewhere,” Steve said as he rummaged through his luggage. “It’s a sports product, nothing girly smelling,” he assured me with that lop-sided grin that always made something in my groin contract. “Here it is,” he told me as he came to the side of the bed next to me.

He started with my neck and shoulders and every nerve and muscle seemed to melt beneath his hands. His touch was firm, but never so hard that it hurt. I tried to be quiet, but little moans of pleasure would escape from my throat against my will as he manipulated my flesh. He worked his way down my back at a steady pace, pausing occasionally to put more lotion on his hands. When he reached the area just below my waistline, I could feel my heart start to beat double time in my chest. He kept slowly moving lower until he was kneading my ass cheeks. His fingertips brushed against my asshole a few times, causing my already erect cock to get harder. He didn’t linger on my butt any longer than he did anywhere else, but kept moving down to my thighs, calves, and feet.

The effect the massage was having on me couldn’t have been more erotic, but he really hadn’t done anything overtly sexual at all. I was still in the dark about whether Steve was my phantom lover, and had set the whole trip up to get me alone in an intimate situation, or whether he was simply giving a buddy a massage to relax him.

“You can roll over now,” he told me. I did, knowing full well he would see my hard-on dripping with precum.

He didn’t say anything, but just started again rubbing me from my neck down. He kept the pressure constant as he worked on my arms and then my pecs. When he started down my stomach every muscle in my lower body tensed. His hands kept moving and, without breaking his pace at all, he suddenly had my prick in his hands. He massaged it with the same kneading motions he had used all over my body, rather than the up and down pulling I used to masturbate, but the outcome was the same. I had a massive orgasm and shot cum all over Steve and on my own chest. He said nothing and just kept massaging until he reached my feet. He then picked up one of the towels, wiped me dry and then cleaned himself.

Following his lead, I did nothing to outwardly acknowledge what had just happened, but now I knew that, whether or not Steve had been the man in the room that special night, his intentions this week were clearly sexual. I got up off the bed and removed the towel I had been lying on and replaced it with a clean one. I picked up the massage lotion bottle and waited. Steve responded to my unspoken message and got on the bed on his stomach.

I followed the same routine he had, and was delighted that he couldn’t keep quiet any more than I had been able to. His moans of pleasure had my cock getting hard again in an amazingly short time. When I reached his ass I very deliberately stroked my fingers across his asshole and was rewarded with a sharp intake of his breath. He rolled over when I finished with his feet without my saying anything. As I worked my way down his chest I could feel his heart slamming under my hands. When I was within an inch of his massively erect cock I said, “It was you that night, wasn’t it? The hazing?”

For the first time since we had gotten out of the hot tub I looked him straight in the eyes.

“Yes.” He paused and searched my face. “Do you hate me for what I did?”

“I’ll show you just how much I hate you,” I told him, and I swooped down on his erection with my mouth and took every inch of it in. I had to fight a gag reflex for a second, but I learned how to breathe to get past it very quickly. I got lost in the memory of that wonderful night when he’d done this for me and tried to give him the same incredible sensations. He was groaning and pumping his hips, saying, “Oh, God, Brian!” over and over. Time lost all meaning, but it seemed too soon when he gasped, “I’m cumming! Do you want me to pull out?” My answer was to clamp my lips around his organ like a vise and wait for his cum to pump into my mouth. It came so fast and in such a huge quantity that I couldn’t swallow much of it. I savored the taste of what remained in my mouth and then licked his softening prick as he had done mine. He made a noise which sounded almost like a sob and I reluctantly took my mouth off of him to look into his eyes.

What I saw there hit me in the gut like a sucker punch. I’d never seen a look of such utter adoration in anyone’s eyes in my life. His face said it all. I really didn’t need to hear the words, but he spoke them anyway. “I love you, Brian.”

My first instinct was to say it back, but he pulled me to him and kissed me before I could speak. It was a wild, passionate kiss that felt like it reached down to my soul. I sprawled on top of him on the bed and kissed him over and over again.

Eventually he rolled on his side, holding me to him, our legs tangled together and our genitals lightly touching.

“Please don’t let what I said scare you off. I won’t ask anything you don’t want to give. It’s just that I’ve been carrying this feeling for you around for a while now and I had to tell you. I think I would have said it even if you hadn’t just given me the best blow job of my life.” He grinned then, “Had a lot of practice, have you?”

“You’re the only man I’ve ever been with,” I told him, simply. “I’ve been attracted to men for years, but I’ve never had sex with one until you.”

I could see a million emotions in his eyes, including confusion, joy, and worry, but no doubt or rejection of what I’d told him.

“I would hate myself if I drew you into something that you think is wrong. Being gay is who I am, Brian. I’ve known that since I was twelve and I’ve been active since I was sixteen. But if you weren’t acting on your feelings because you thought it was bad….”

“No,” I hurried to assure him, “nothing like that. I’ve just been a coward. It was easier to try to pretend I was what society says I should be, than to face scorn and rejection. This would have happened sooner or later. I’m just glad it happened with you.”

He kissed me again, softly and tenderly. Some hard little corner of my heart melted and, for the first time, I felt that I could be capable of truly loving someone with my heart, soul, and body. The depth of my emotions were overwhelming me so, to break the tension, I said, “Sixteen, huh? You must have been a randy little devil.”

Steve grinned at me. “You don’t know the half of it. In those hormone driven years I think my only criteria for choosing a partner was if they were a male human. Thank God I knew enough to protect myself from disease. It got old fast to sleep around, though, and I tried to settle down, but even though I met some nice guys I could just never make it last. I began to believe I wasn’t capable of falling in love - until last spring.”

“Spring?” My heart dropped. I hadn’t started at the university until this fall.

“You remember when you came to campus with your Dad to check it out? Last April?”

“Yes, of course, but I didn’t meet you then. I would have remembered, believe me.”

“Remember the incident with the dog and the little boy?”

“Sure, that was so upsetting.” I’d been in a hurry to get to a meeting with one of the admissions officers and, as I was leaving the motel and hurrying across the main street at the edge the campus, a dog was hit by a car right in front of me. The car just kept on going and I was kneeling down to see how injured the dog was, when a kid of nine or ten came running up. He was sobbing and babbling about how Max had slipped out of his collar and run ahead. He threw himself on the animal in hysteria. I got them both over to the curb, with help from some people who had gathered around. I kept telling the kid I’d get help and a cell phone appeared out of nowhere. I got the boy to give me his phone number and called his Mom. She told me she’d call her vet and be right there. The dog was still alive, but he was awfully still. I held the little boy and tried to reassure him, until his parents showed up, with the vet getting there right behind. He immediately loaded the animal in his van and told the parents to follow him to his clinic. They thanked me and hugged me and I wished them good luck with Max. Then I went to the admissions office to explain why I missed the appointment. Luckily they were great about it.

“Were you there?” I asked Steve. The people in the crowd were just a blur to me because I was focused on the boy and his pet.

“I gave you my cell phone.”

“I had no idea. I didn’t really see anyone, except the kid.”

“I know. You just honed in on what he needed and took such care of him. I’d already seen you on campus with your Dad and had a significant case of lust going for you, but the way you treated that boy touched me so deeply. By the way, I checked with the vet later and the dog made it. Only a small limp to remember it by. I, however, was left with a giant obsession about a man I might never see again.

When you started school here this year I made sure I introduced myself to you and invited you to rush our fraternity. As I got to know you, I was just swamped by what I was feeling. When I set up what happened on Hell Night I was in complete denial about why I was isolating you. I kept telling myself I just wanted a few moments alone with you. But when I walked in there, well, I lost control in a way that has never happened to me before.”

“I’d say you showed me heaven on Hell Night if I wasn’t afraid you’d sock me.”

“I should. That’s a real groaner, but I’m glad it meant something to you. It meant everything to me.”

I put my hand against his cheek and looked into his eyes for a full minute before I could say, “Speaking of groaning, I’d like to hear some more of those sounds you make when you cum and I can’t help but notice that you've got another nice woody going there."

“That would make two of us, stud.”

“So, interested? Or are you bored with me already?”

“Brian, I think I could make love to you for a thousand years and never be bored.”

I had to tell him then. “I love you, Steve.”

It took no time at all until we were in a sexual frenzy again. This time we got into the sixty-nine position and pleasured each other for a deliciously long time. I knew then that a thousand years wouldn’t be enough to love this man.

The rest of the week was amazing. We still refer to it as our honeymoon. If our buddies didn’t figure out what was going on, they must have been blind. We kept excusing ourselves right after dinner, pleading exhaustion, but we’d always be sleepy-eyed in the morning. One night we didn’t make it to dinner at all because Steve whispered to me as we were coming in from skiing, “You know those four orgasms we gave each other last night? Tonight we’re going to break the record.” Suddenly food was the last appetite I was interested in sating. That week Steve taught me every way two men can make love and declared me to be the fastest learner he ever met.

As a frat officer Steve was entitled to a private room, so when classes began again I left my things in my room, but I slept with Steve every night. Eventually the need for sex began to fall into a more natural balance with the rest of our busy lives, but a fierce desire for each other was always there, ready to ignite at a moment’s notice.

The first people we told about our relationship were Bree and Jenny. They were delighted for us. We still see them, and the men they eventually married, regularly. It was a little rougher to tell our parents and siblings. Some were shocked and upset, but everyone eventually came around.

We got an off-campus apartment the next fall and Steve started graduate school in business administration. For Christmas that year Bree and Jenny gave us versions of those “I’m with Stupid” T-shirts, only ours said, “I’m with Mr. Wonderful” and “I’m with the OTHER Mr. Wonderful.” We were laughing about them when we got home and then Steve said, “Let’s wear them on campus tomorrow.” So we did, and, just like that, we were “out.”

It’s been ten wonderful years now, and the sight of Steve still takes my breath away. Having him by my side when I graduated from medical school and being able to count on him while I did my grueling internship and started my residency in pediatrics has made me so happy. Meanwhile he has become one of the youngest senior executives in a major company here in town. When I set up my practice next year we’ll pick a city where his career can take him even higher.

There have been troubles, of course. We fight about the usual stupid shit that all couples do and for a long time Steve worried that I would eventually come to regret I’d never been with another man. Finally I told him that if he said it again I’d kill him and go find one. He laughed and then he fucked my brains out and that was the last I heard of that bullshit. When I can spend my life in bed with Mr. Wonderful, why on earth would I want anything else?