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Click hereI woke to a blaring headache and the feeling that something had died in my mouth. I cracked my grainy eyes open and shut them immediately. Itâs too damn sunny in this fucking apartment, then I remembered and groaned. My apartment wasnât sunny in the morning; it faced another building. I must have gone out last night.
I sat up, and groaned as a wave of nausea ran through me. I lunged off the bed and blindly followed the sound of running water. Thank God, I praised with my usual desperate religion when I found that the bathroomâs door was open, and within moments, my head was stuck in the toilet and I was puking my guts out. After ten minutes, I finally sat back on my heels, and grimaced, wiping my mouth.
I glanced around, and noticed that the shower was no longer running. On the sink there lay toothpaste and an unopened packet of toothbrushes. Ninety-nine cent toothbrushes that made me yearn for my own automatic, battery-run, state-of-the-art toothbrush that kept my teeth clean and gums healthy. However, beggars could not be choosers, and at least I wasnât going home with vomit still swimming in my mouth after being kicked out of the apartment I woke up in.
I went back to the bedroom and climbed into my clothes. I could practically feel the collective grime on my body festering and creating maggots.
I walked down the hallway, wondering where the owner of the apartment was, when I heard the words, âDave, sit.â
I looked to my right to see the kitchen, fully equipped with a table, shiny kitchenware, and a man with black, wavy hair that reached the nape of his neck, wearing black glasses, a white button down shirt on, blue slacks, grey socks, and a blue tie standing before an oven, cooking.
Damn, not again. Not another man.
There were two seats at the table, and I sat in one of them. Within seconds, he placed a plate with eggs, two strips of bacon, a glass of water and two pills in front of me.
After grimacing, wondering how I could eat with a queasy stomach, I tried the eggs and practically swallowed the pills and the whole meal dry. I sat back and noticed that my headache had receded and that the man hadnât eaten. He had watched me do so, leaning back against the counter with his arms folded. When he saw that he had my attention, he walked forward, brushing against me as he moved the silverware out of the way, and pushed himself up to sit on the edge of the table, his legs dangling on either side of me, his âhouse guest.â
I swallowed. This man was very, very sexy, and as soon as the thought came into my head, I looked away, guilty.
I looked up again, and lost myself in grey eyes hidden behind lenses when I heard a soft, deep voice say, âI know itâs not my problem, and you probably donât want to hear this, but Iâm going to say it. Youâre a closet case. It takes kegs of beers for you to even admit that you might be gay. Youâre not even bi. I know because Iâve been watching you, and, believe it or not, Iâve liked what Iâve seen. But Iâve also seen the engagement ring you have on. Iâm giving you an ultimatum, because I know who your fiancĂ© is, and I really like her. So here it is; either you get your shit together and take your first baby steps out of that comforting closet of yours, or I tell her that you are attracted with people that have flat chests, short, spiky hair and dicks.â
I could only stare. This was . . . scary. He didnât know this guy. Didnât know his name. Had never seen him before, and here he was, dictating my life. I opened my mouth and said, âThereâs no way in hell Iâm gay.â
The man lifted an eyebrow. âOh? People so drunk that they canât muster the strength to cross their eyes donât lie. You did things to me last night that you never would have done when you were sober, and guess what; you enjoyed every single minute of it just as much as I did,â with every word, he leaned closer, until our noses were almost touching.
âNo,â I breathed, beginning to panic and flushing when I realized that my cock was pressing up against my jeans.
âOh, yes. Youâre hot in bed. With other men. I rather doubt that you were anywhere near is wild with another woman as you had been with me last night. Well,â he leaned back and I swallowed, âAs Iâve said, I know and like your fiancĂ©, and I know several men that would be just perfect for her. I also know some that would be perfect for you.â He looked away, and said, âOne of themâs me,â he looked back, his gray eyes dark and piercing, âhowever, I donât think youâll like me much after this.â
The man leaned forward again and my breath hitched, but he pulled back almost immediately, holding up a business card. âJust in case you do.â
He dropped the card on the table, hopped off, and walked out of the kitchen. I listened hard, spellbound, and heard the man put on a jacket, or blazer, shoes, and open the door, calling, âBut donât take too long,â and the door closing.
I swallowed, eyes watered, and nearly lunged for the card.
Christopher Lejeune.
~*~*~
It was in Starbucks, a few blocks down from the building where I worked, where I told Josephine the news in front of her best friend, Arnie, a coworker. I didnât really want to tell her in front of someone, but considering that this would really hurt her, I figured she would need someone to console her. Arnie, a man, was the girlfriend she never head. Her words, not mine. I sighed. Baby steps, get on with it.
âI love you, Josephine, I really do, however, thereâs something that I want to tell you. But first, ah, never mind, I just have something to tell you and I beg you not to blow up in this very public place. Please, please, please.â
I couldnât ask her about Christopher Lejeune. I still hadnât been able to deal with it.
She blinked at me and gave a tentative, almost hopeful smile. âLet me guess, you cheated on me.â
âNo!â I frowned. âYes. Just, not with a woman.â
âNot with a woman? Whatâs that supposed to mean?â
I dreaded this part. I didnât want to reveal himself as gay, but I said, âI think I might be gay,â nonetheless.
Out of the corner of my eye, Arnieâs jaw dropped.
âOh my god! Then why are you dating me?â
I swallowed. âI couldnât admit it.â
To my surprise, she nodded and smiled. âI understand. You know my brother, Cole? The one I told you about?â she waited for my nod before she continued, âWell, heâs gay. I needed to practically move heaven and hell to get him to admit it, but he did. Luckily, I did it right before he left for college. Unfortunately, his heart was broken several times there.â
Her smile faded, and she looked off into space for few minutes before refocusing on me, the man that was supposed to be marrying her in three months. âI understand, Dave, I really do, and while I donât like that you led me on for so long, at least you didnât realize it after we married.â
Okay, so maybe her heart wouldnât be that broken.
âI love you, Josephine, I wasnât lying about that. But, I love you as a sister.â
She smiled. âAnd I love you as one, too, Dave, and I am officially letting you free of our engagement. Wait, Iâll do that only on one condition.â
I smiled, knowing that it wouldnât be anything bad, and nodded for her to go on.
âWell, the first is that you have to still be my friend, âcause youâre loads of fun to be around, and that, youâll be just as understanding when I tell you my news.â
âWhat news?â
âWell, I donât know how to say this. Cole actually talked to me about it, told me that I simply must tell you, and that everything will turn out all right in the end. Iâm not really sure, I mean, you are . . . gay. And I respect that, I really do. I accept your sexual preference with open-â
âJosephine.â
âYes?â
âWhat is it that you want to tell me?â
âWait.â
âWhat?â
âWhat did you mean that you cheated on me, just not with women? Have you been sleeping around with men? Oh, well, duh, youâre gay, right? Okay, um, howâd you cheat on me?â
âUm, when I got really, really drunk, never the same man twice, and Iâve never seen any of them again.â
âOh, okay then. Well, we have something in common.â
âWhat do we have in common?â
âIâve also been fooling around with men. Only, it was really one man, and one cup of Sprite which isnât alcoholic, generally, but Iâm pretty sure it was spiked, if a just opened bottle can be spiked, and, I really like him, and I want to date him, but I thought that it was just wedding day jitters, and that Iâd get over him, but Iâd get hot whenever he looked at me, and he is really good in bed.â She ran out of steam and cast an apologetic glance at me.
Now Arnie stared at her.
I pursed his lips and nodded. âWell, it would be really inane for me to get angry at you.â
âI agree.â
âYou might.â
âOf course.â
âI gotta go.â
âIâm sorry.â
âGoodbye.â
âDrive home safely,â she said.
âI will.â
âI love you.â
âDitto.â
âDonât be angry.â
âIâm not.â
âYouâre sure?â
âNo,â he responded.
âWell, then, please donât beat up Frederick.â
âFrederick?â I shouted.
I think Arnie might have echoed me, but my voice was definitely the one that carried. Several people in the place turned to look at us.
âYes, Frederick,â I could swear she looked smug.
âFrederickâs a fucking womanizer!â
âNo heâs not!â
âYes he is!â
âWhy do you say that?â
âBecause I know!â
âAnd what kind of evidence is that?â
I glared and walked out, muttering âFrederickâ again and again beneath my breath.
~*~*~
I, as a rule, do not project an image of myself as uptight. Even though I am. It had taken me two weeks to make myself stop fooling myself and finally begin to notice guys. Immediately, I realized that, with my oppressed sexuality rising up, I lusted after anything that even had the remote possibility of having a dick hanging between his legs and wasnât a hundred pounds overweight.
The exception; Frederick.
Frederick was a jerk, a bastard, a son of a bitch, and an idiot. He had gotten more sedate over the past weeks, but he was still all four of those things. Though, his features were handsome.
My hatred of Frederick started in my first day of work. I had come in, hoping to finally do something productive in my life, and was placed in a cubicle just opposite of Frederickâs.
I had been searching for a bug in a malfunctioning computer system when I heard, âListen, babe, youâre cute and all, but I do not want to date you. . . . No, Iâm not dating anyone. . . . Iâm just not the type of man that wants to be tied down. . . . Babe . . . babe . . . babe! Listen! You want the truth? Fine! All you are is a piece of ass to me! Iâve fucked you, and now Iâm moving on to greener pastures! I donât even want to see ever you again! I didnât want to tell you this, so donât start crying. . . . Ugh, whatever. Welcome to the scene, babe.â
I had turned to see Frederick turn off his cell phone, smiling.
And now, I wanted blood. There was no way that my innocent little Josephine was going to be hurt by that womanizing, pompous ass.
I stalked over to his cubicle, and grinned predatorily when I noticed that the devil was already in his work place. I walked over, nodded when Frederick noticed me, grabbed him by the collar, and lifted him out of his seat. âHear me now, you fucking piece of shit; if you hurt Josephine, at all. I donât care if you do it by refusing to buy her favorite bag of chips for her or break her heart, know this; if or when it happens, I will hunt you down, and skin you. Your pretty little face is going to look nice mounted above my bed.â
Frederick sneered, âSo you can jerk off to it, you fag?â
âCheap shot, Freddy,â I said as his blood ran cold. He couldnât know.
âOh, yeah? Then whyâd she come to kind, understanding, loving Frederick when her little Davey Wavey wasnât giving her what she needs? Or are you just impotent?â
I snarled, wondering what I could send at him for throwing at me that I hadnât been able to force myself to sleep with Josephine when I remembered something.
/âYou did things to me last night that you never would have done when you were sober, and guess what; you enjoyed every single minute of it just as much as I did.â/
And then I smiled and did what he had wanted to do to Frederick for the years that we had been working in the same company. I decked him.
~*~*~
I knocked, telling myself that I could do this. Then again, this was like returning to the scene of the crime. Damn, fucking damn. Baby steps. I should take baby steps. I shouldnât, couldnât back out. This was important.
Christopher opened the door, smiled, and moved so I could come in.
âUm, thanks. Has a really long time passed, Christopher?â I asked, as I walked into the corridor
âNo, have you found yourself? Call me Chris.â
âYeah. Okay.â
âDo you like yourself?â
âPretty much.â
âAnything specific?â
âNo.â
âHowâs your fiancĂ© doing?â
I held up his hand, âSheâs been relegated to friend. Iâm worried about her choice in men.â
âIâll help her out.â
âThanks. Though, I hope youâll do it soon. I now have to take Anger Management because of my dislike for him.â
âWhat did you do?â
âPunched him. In the nose. Broke it. And Iâm not being funny when I say, I seriously do not know why my boss is so angry at me punching that jerk. I swear some people cheered when I did it.â
Chris smiled, and closed the door. When he turned back, his face was serious. âSo, why have you come here today, Dave? What do you want? Burning hot sex? A relationship? Or do you just want to know how I know your fiancĂ©?â
âA relationshipâ and âHow do you know my fiancĂ©â warred in my mind, but what came out was, âSex.â
I blinked, and blushed. âI mean, I want-â
I was shut off by Chrisâ warm, awfully inviting mouth. I backed him up into the wall, pressing against him, rubbing my growing erection against his. I felt, rather than heard, Chris moan. Felt it reverberate through his chest and back.
I tore my mouth from his and gritted my teeth when I felt a hand snake below my belt and cup me. Moaning, I began to kiss his neck, biting, suckling, anything that might cause pleasure, and hit on a hot spot when I bit the earlobe. I could feel his hand massaging me, and wanted to be closer to Chris.
I desperately tried to unbutton his shirt, but only succeeded in ripping off a few buttons. I abandoned that idea, and went for his pants. I had more success there, and in moments, I was pumping a cock and sober for the first time. I shivered when I heard Chris moan, and felt his hands move around my waist to squeeze my ass.
Time swam, I was lost in his and my sighs, moans, groans, the way his body moved against mine, the way his neck curved, how he thrashed his head, how smooth he was, how wonderful it felt to hold him, to feel him. How glorious it was to be with a man.
All too soon, Chris cried out and warm, sticky fluid flooded my hand. His knees buckled and he leaned on me for support, trembling. We stayed like that for a few moments, Chris regaining his bearings and me holding him, stroking his back and hair, until he picked up his head and said, âSorry about that. You were the last person Iâve slept with, and, as Iâve said, you were awfully good.â
âI was drunk.â
Chris shrugged and smiled. âGuess youâre a natural. Iâd really love to see more of what you can do when youâre not drunk as hell.â
I grinned and leaned down to kiss him, a fleeting touch. âIâd love to see more, too.â
He frowned and shook his head suddenly. âActually, never mind.â
âHuh?â
âItâs your first time doing this when sober. Itâs gotta be all about you, babe.â
âWhat? No. I donât need that.â
Chris grinned, kissed me passionately before pulling back and saying, âOh, but I do.â
He pushed me, and dropped to his knees. He was experienced, and I cried out as my member was suddenly freed and engulfed in heat. Heat that enveloped me to the core.
I braced myself against the wall, fighting desperately to keep from grabbing Chrisâ head and fucking his face. It had scared the few girls Iâd been with, and I didnât want that happening now.
I felt the suction, felt Chris retreat until only my head was between his lips and breathed out through his nose sharply, sending a rush of air to caress me.
I keened and leaned forward until my forehead touched the wall as Chris bobbed on my dick, stopping every once in a while to breathe, to hold me within him, to torture me, until my hands grabbed his hair and forced his head up and down a few times before impaling his face on me, and letting go of myself.
I stood rigid, head thrown back, eyes closed tight. I could feel Chris swallowing everything, milking him. When it was over, I drew Chris up to my level. Cuddling into him, I said, âWell, damn. Why the fuck couldnât you open my eyes sooner?â
~*~*~
Sometime during the night, Chris turned to me and said, âFuck me.â
We teased and stroked each other, then Chris turned around, handing me KY jelly. I lubed my fingers, and inserted them into his asshole, almost moaning at the velvety furnace that I had delved into. I fingered him for what seemed like hours, until he was begging to be filled.
I stayed where I was. I was anticipating and fearing the next step. When Chris called me a bloody bastard and then went off to in another language, I rolled on a condom and pushed into Chris, moaning. He was so tight, so good. I hit his prostate and knew it by his sudden shriek and began driving into it. I felt him moving against me, moaning, groaning, wanting more of me, and came.
We back on the bed, with Chris whimpering, moving against the bed, begging to come himself. I knew, and rested for a few minutes before turning over on my back, taking him with me, and wrapped my hand around Chrisâ erection. Chris sighed, murmuring, already half asleep when he came. I chuckled before curling around him and falling asleep.
~*~*~
âYou know, last night, you started speaking in another language,â I said as I sat down at the kitchen table.
âYeah, French.â
âWhy?â
âIâm French.â
âWow.â
âYeah, I came to America when I was five, when my French mother met my American stepfather, and four years ago I went to France to teach English.â
âWhy?â
âFelt like getting away from my family,â Chris said, and began transferring food from pans to plates.
âBig one?â
âNo, just an overbearing one.â
âHey, you said that youâd been watching me the first time we met.â
âI was.â
âLike a stalker?â
âNo, as a friend of your fiancĂ©âs. Josephine told me all about you.â
âAnd you just decided to follow me around?â
âI didnât follow you around.â
âThen howâd I end up in your bed?â I asked, watching Chrisâ butt when he leaned down to set the table.
âI came to the club once, and you were there. You were drunk and went home with a guy. I saw you several more times and each time you were drunk and left with a guy.â
âSo you decided that it was your turn?â
âYou donât think highly of me, do you? I didnât decide that it was my turn. The plan was that Iâd get you to my apartment, sober you up, and talk some sense into you.â
âAnd we ended up fucking, how?â
âThe plan was going well. You were in my apartment, and I was heading toward the kitchen to get coffee for you. I looked back, and there you were, naked in the middle of my living room, and most definitely horn. You couldâve tempted an angel, and Iâm nowhere near saintly,â Chris chuckled.
âHuh, how long have you known that youâre gay?â
âPractical forever. I was a very randy teenager?â
âDid your parents know?â
âNo, um, I had this habit as a teenager that I do not have now.â
âWhat habit?â
âIâd tell every different lover of mine a different name so that when they called my house, my mom would tell them that itâs the wrong number.â
âSo you wouldnât get caught?â I asked, impressed.
âYeah.â