By the Sea

I had baked three types of cookies, a cake, muffins for Wednesday’s lunch, cinnamon rolls for tomorrow’s breakfast, and was working on kneading the week’s bread, which I usually do on Sunday afternoons. I needed to stay out of my bedroom in case they were going for seconds. What made me truly sad: what if they went for thirds? Or fourths? I’ve learned to hide how I feel, I always have. But I have never felt more alone then I did that night, stupidly doing unimportant work.

Since Toby had come into my home, my freezer was filled with extra dishes, made while being close to him working in the kitchen, and I delivered more things then ever to the shelter. Is this all that life has in store for me? Can no one see how alone I am? Can no one find it in his heart to see me for who I am and realize how much I need someone to love me? I placed the bread in a large bowl to rise by the oven, cleaned off my counters, and washed my hands furiously, beating myself up for being pathetic and frustrated because I don’t know how to change how I feel or make my own life better. I escaped outside to my greenhouse, tending the flowers that would fill my planters, baskets, and beds in the spring and summer. I always loved it in here. But tonight it was one more reminder of how pathetically alone I am.

I went back inside, washing up again, needing to check on my bread dough. I was putting the dough into loaf pans and putting them in the oven when Toby walked in. He was dressed in boxers, his hair was mussed and he was slightly sweaty. I could smell her cloying perfume and the raw, basic essence of sex on him. He had come downstairs looking for a snack. Ever the dutiful host, I packed a tray for him with sandwiches, fresh cookies, and milk. He thanked me with one of his warm smiles and headed back to his room. When the bread had finished baking and I had resorted all the items in my refrigerator, I went back to bed, stripping off my clothes and putting headphones and music on to drown out whatever round the squeaking bed springs above me happened to announce. For the first time since my grandfather’s funeral, I cried myself to sleep.

The next day I didn’t exactly feel better, but I felt more in control. I served Toby and Becca in the dining room coffee and cinnamon rolls, but it was the first time I actually gave a meal to Toby in the formal room except for Wednesday lunches when he would share in the weekly meeting of my grandfather’s cronies. I took advantage of the opportunity to go up and clean their room. It was the only time I actually wished I had someone else to clean for me. Not that they trashed it, but the evidence of the night they had shared was plentiful. I opened a window to air it out and changed the bedding. I even dumped the trash again to get rid of the tissue wrapped bundles of used condoms. Then I tackled the bathroom. Toby always kept it simple: one towel and no crap all over the place. I don’t think Becca could use one towel if she tried and she had lotions, make-up, and other such junk from one end of the counter to another. I cleaned up around it then went downstairs to see if they needed anything else.

The next night, Toby was down working in the kitchen again as I prepared for the next day. It was as if Becca wasn’t even there. And boy did she pout. She was absolutely incensed that he didn’t stop working and come to her when she snapped her fingers. Hell, even I understood what concentration he put in to every word and sentence. I never chatted with him or made him do anything. I quietly took care of him so he could work. It was all I could do for him when I would have gladly done so much more. I was cleaning up the last of the dinner dishes and had made a pot of coffee for him. I had filled his carafe and put it in front of him when he smiled at me. I leaned back against the counter and watched him work for a few minutes, letting the usual flush of arousal wash over me, feeling myself plump a little. But after a couple of minutes, I felt a presence behind me. I turned to see Becca looking at me. I could tell by the predatory gleam she got in her eye that she had my number. She knew that I was at least attracted to Toby if not head over heels in love. She gave me a smug look and sauntered over to him, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing under his ear. I turned away from it and collected the kitchen towels, deciding on one more load of laundry. When I turned around, Toby was pushing Becca away, telling her ‘not now.’ I couldn’t help the slight grin. You don’t bother the man while he’s working. But she caught it and I could feel the claws come out. She was pissed. So I decided to retreat to the living room and a good book. She followed. She sat across from me, thumbing through a magazine, glaring at me from time to time. When the clothes washer was done, I got up to transfer the clothes to the dryer. When I headed back into the living room, I noticed my cat was curling itself around Becca’s legs. Now my cat is used to kids playing with it and pulling on its tail. She doesn’t mind. She keeps her claws in and is a very sweet natured creature.

I saw Becca try to brush the cat away. When it didn’t work, she pulled her foot back and kicked my cat, hard enough that she lifted off the ground and flew a few feet. She landed and scurried off. I don’t like to lose my temper. It happens so rarely that when I do lose it, it scares me in its ferocity. I walked right up to Becca; I know fire was shooting from my eyes. I don’t like to use my height or muscular frame to intimidate, but I did then. I stood over her and pushed forward and watched her retreat in fear.

“You are no longer welcome. Get out of my house.” I was shaking with rage. How dare she attack a simple animal, a sweet, gentle cat? But inside her was a backbone of steel. She got right in my face and started yelling back.

“Who do you think you are? I don’t give a fuck about what you want. This is a pretty lame excuse to get me out of here.”

I saw red. “Get out of my house. I will call the police. You have ten minutes to get your things and leave. NOW!” My usually soft voice rose to a roar on the last word and she actually jumped. She was momentarily cowed, but didn’t stay that way.

“Just because you want him, doesn’t mean he will stay if you kick me out. He will go with me.”

I swallowed, my fear breaking down and fear taking its place. “I don’t care. Get out.”

Scenting a weakness, she pounced. “You are so transparent and pathetic. Don’t even bother. He loves me. You won’t win.” Every word hurt. I’ll give her this; the woman knew how to attack. The barbs stick and she could even twist the knife.

“Becca?” Toby’s voice was very distinct because of its deep baritone. He came up to us and I sat down, the emotions ebbing and now that the adrenaline was wearing down, I started to shake. I hate when I lose control like that. I never know how far I will go. Toby knelt down in front of me.

“Jack, what happened?”

Because she stomped me into dirt his turning to me was a bitter victory. “Toby, he’s trying to kick us out.”

Toby snapped his head around. “Shut up Becca.” He turned back and his eyes were filled with concern. If I didn’t focus on something else, I’d have told him how I felt. “Jack?”

I chickened out, giving him a truthful explanation. “No one kicks my cat. I hate losing my temper.”

Toby turned from me and towered over Becca. He told her to go pack her things. When she left after a few sputtered arguments, Toby turned to me and asked if he had to go too.

“I like working here Jack. I’ve gotten a lot done. But I will leave if you need me too.”

I felt myself weaken. I looked into his eyes and saw the pleading in them. He really wanted to stay. And like the lovesick fool I am, I couldn’t deny him anything. “You don’t have to go.” Then I looked away from him. “If it would help you work, Becca can stay too.”

With that he went upstairs and I went to the kitchen to fold the laundry. I heard them come downstairs and out the front door. After a couple of minutes, Toby came back inside and sat down at the kitchen table in front of his laptop. I waited for him to say something, anything.

“Toby?”

He didn’t even look up. “Yeah Jack?”

“Where is Becca?”

He pushed a few keys then looked at me, a grin on his face. “On her way back to New York.”

I felt bad, petty and jealous, because of my feelings. “I told you she could stay if you wanted.”

He smiled at me. “I didn’t want her to stay. She knows I hate it when she interrupts me. I can’t stand it when she shows up in the middle of writing.”

Now I was confused. “But she is your fiancée. She probably will expect you—“

Toby’s confusion had him snapping. “Who said she was my fiancée?”

“She did.”

He tilted his head back and roared. “No wonder she was so pissed when I sent her away. She has been trying to get me to ask her for a couple of months now.” It was with an amused grin and a wink that he said, “I told her it was just casual.”

I actually smiled at that. I left Toby alone at the table to continue working, refilling his carafe with fresh coffee and leaving a plate of cookies within reach. I turned in and slept better than I had in a good long time.

His work progressed over the next few weeks as spring arrived. I started getting more and more guests and Toby would talk with them and joke around, signing copies of his books and generally enjoying meeting a wide variety of people. He told me it was what helped him create characters, the social interaction. One night I was babysitting for some of my guests when Toby joined me in playing and entertaining the three-year-old. I had a lot of fun. The next day, I was planting flowers in the beds lining my driveway and walkways. Toby helped me. We worked for a couple of hours in companionable silence. I really was going to miss him when he finished his book.

One of my regulars, Mrs. Stein, came for her yearly visit during the first week of April. After dinner one night, I served her a cup of tea in the study across the hall from Toby’s room and she asked that I join her for a minute. We were sitting, talking about the weather and other generalities when she asked me a question that just floored me.

“How long have you been in love with Toby?”

I stammered for a minute then answered truthfully. “From the first day.”

She smiled warmly at me, nodding in a way that told me she thought I was being silly. “Does he know?”

I swallowed. “No.”

She patted my leg. “Are you going to tell him?”

Wasn’t that a pointed question? My heart wanted to scream it from the rooftops. But my heart… “Probably not.”

Just then, I saw Toby standing in his doorway, looking shocked. Mrs. Stein stood up and kissed my cheek before walking past Toby to her room. I sat there, knowing my face was on fire. I couldn’t meet his eyes. But I saw his feet as he moved closer. He knelt in front of me.

“Why didn’t you say anything Jack?”

I still couldn’t look at him. “After the few days with Becca, I knew you weren’t interested. Sometimes it’s better to never know. You know?”

“No, Jack, I don’t know.”

I looked up at him then, his answer was curious. There was actually something interesting in his eyes. My limited experience not withstanding, I could have sworn it was desire. Just that simple, fiery look had me trembling and hard. Hope flared up inside me. And it burst through me when he lowered his lips to mine and brushed against them for a minute. Then he deepened his kiss, begging me to join his motions. I did. I moved my tongue against his, playing and dodging, enjoying this simple contact more than all my other previous experiences combined. Then he was pulling me up, taking me by the hand into his room, shutting and locking his door. He pulled me to his bed and pushed me down, removing my shirt as he went. He paused and grinned at me.

“You look like a teddy bear Jack.” It was probably true; my chest was covered in a thick pelt of downy, curly golden hair. He reached out and touched it, running his fingers through it, sifting and tugging gently at it. I was so hard I cried out from the pleasure/pain of it. He ripped off his shirt and shucked his pants, standing before me in tented knit boxers. He was hard and he was hard for me. He reached down and undid the snaps of my jeans, pulling them off me with a quick tug. He grabbed the hem of my briefs and I lost those as well. His mouth engulfed me. His tongue laved me. His lips made love to my swollen shaft. I was in heaven. But it had been so long that three or four bobs of his head had me exploding in release, filling his mouth with my semen. He pulled back and smacked his lips and grinned.

“You taste good Jack. It’s been a while since I did it. Didn’t know if I would remember how.”

I was surprised. “You’ve been with a guy before?”

Toby shrugged. “Sure. A couple of them.”

“Oh.” I felt really inadequate and awkward. “I’ve been with one.”

He cocked his head, studying me. “How long ago?”

I was ashamed, but I wasn’t about to lie. “Four years.”

He grinned deeply. “It has been a long time for you. But I expect a fully equal partnership.”

“What do you mean?”

“I hate the roles. Top, bottom, it doesn’t matter to me. I want it all and I won’t accept less. If you like one more than the other, that’s fine, but I want to play both from time to time.”

I actually grinned. “So which do you want to play now?”

With that he dropped his boxers and I saw all of him. His shaft was so thick. He didn’t have a drop of fat on him, except for that beautiful cock. It was a truly fat piece of meat. Long, but not as long as mine, straight and so hard it pointed to the ceiling. He started kissing me again. He lay completely on top of me, pressing his chest to mine and rubbing his aroused cock into my belly gently. Every move he made from that point forward was gentle and kind. He seemed to sense that I needed him to be slow, that I wanted to savor each moment. He didn’t disappoint. He rolled with me, gently rocking his body into mine. Then he started kissing and biting at my nipples, nipping the sensitive skin at the hollow of my throat. He reached over to the table by the bed and fumbled for a tube of lubricant. He smeared some on his fingers and touched me. I arched my back and moaned. It had been so long. Then he swirled around my flesh, teasing and testing the give of the sensitive ring. After a couple of minutes, he pushed into me with one finger which was followed quickly by a second, then third. After a few minutes of his ministrations, he pulled back and added some lube to his cock before spreading my knees wide and testing me with his shaft, pushing in slightly, testing the waters. I parted for him, willing my body to accept all of him. He rocked into me, a few shallow thrusts taking him deeper and deeper until he was completely inside me. He waited like a patient groom with his virgin bride, willing me to gentle and calm before ravishing me. It didn’t take long for me to adjust, feeling myself accept him, open to him, grip him in eager passion. Then he began to move. Long, slow strokes had me feeling each divine millimeter of that fat cock against my ring, feeling the divine pressure against my prostate, and feeling more full than I had ever felt before. The pleasure had me pulling, meeting, and writhing in joy. I met each of his lunges and moved towards my own pleasure, trying to wring his from him. I felt Toby thicken, the pressure increased and I felt my own orgasm approach. A few more thrusts and I would be there, releasing in ecstatic spasms. Three, four, five thrusts and I spurt against him, calling out his name. In the heated moments that followed, as he found his own pleasure, I murmured the words of my heart and told him I loved him. His answer was a long, slow kiss.

We traded back and forth that night, forgetting roles and switching with ease. We must have made love ten times that first night and each time got better and better as we learned the triggers that brought on the extra pleasures. Toby loved to have his back scratched lightly, he actually moaned when I rubbed between his shoulder blades. He loved to have his nipples played with. All the little things that you find in that first heated rush of aroused desire we learned those first few days. It was heaven. I still helped him when he needed it for his book. We would go on day trips to a museum or a shop, perhaps the boardwalk in Seaside. Then we would go home and retire to bed for a few hours. In the morning, in the evening, and sometimes in the middle of the day, when the passion arose in either of us, we dropped everything and appeased it. I would have been embarrassed, but I was having too much fun.

After a couple of weeks, Toby hunkered down when he figured out a scene that he got really into. During that time, I was sort of ignored and I reverted back to the caregiver role that I had played from the start. I didn’t mind. He worked almost non-stop for three days, only pausing to eat when I put food before him and sleep for a couple of hours when he was too tired to continue. But when he saved the file and closed the laptop at the end of the third day, he lifted his eyes to me and gave me a truly wicked grin.

I decided since I had been ignored, I would get to play with him that evening and set the rules. I led him to my room where I had made a couple of preparations. I had Toby remove his clothes and lie back on the bed. I took a red silk scarf and used it as a blindfold for him. I had him raise his arms above his head and lock his hands together around a bedpost. Then I went out to the kitchen to heat some massage oil. When I came back, I had to catch my breath. He was lying with his arms raised and the sight of him in nothing but that red blindfold nearly had me undone. He was beautiful and the deep red of the sash matched his dark hair and complexion perfectly. He was fully aroused and pointing to the ceiling as I sat on the bed beside him. I trailed my hand over his legs then belly, watching as goose bumps erupted wherever my hand had trailed. I poured a dollop of the massage oil in my palm and rubbed my hands together, spreading the oil evenly. I moved to his foot and started a slow, sensual massage of his body. My goal was to relax and arouse Toby to the point of madness. I rubbed his arch and between his toes, cupped and pressed into his heel before moving up to his calf, knee, and thigh. Then I did the other foot and leg. I moved on to one arm, then the other. I ground oil into his chest, pinching and tweaking each nipple. Toby lay before me, panting and writhing in pleasure, letting out gasps and slight moans, indicating his approval. When I got to his belly, he had a slight pool of clear essence that had dribbled from him. I rubbed and stroked his belly, finding yet another secret erogenous place on his body. He was begging by this time, his cock a deep, angry purple. I took him in my hand and stroked three times before he spurted. I watched his cum shoot up his chest, across his chin, and then drool onto his belly. When he had calmed, he moved to remove the blindfold, but I stayed his hands. I lifted his legs to drape over my thighs as I poured more of the massage oil on my swollen cock before sliding deep within him. I kept moving with great speed, lost in the sensations of Toby surrounding me. Overwhelmed by the love I felt for him and the joy of the trust he had placed in my hands by remaining blindfolded, it didn’t take me long to find my own release, pushing deep within him for my final plunge. I hit something inside Toby and he grunted with a second release, scant minutes after his first.

It had been an ideal couple of months. We spent a great many hours lying in bed, loving each other, holding each other. We have made love in my room and in his. We made love one time against my kitchen counter and even in the dune grass by the gazebo at the edge of my property. I told him I loved him and often. But he never returned the feelings. He was affectionate and very caring, but he never said those three simple words. Then one day he told me his book was done and he asked me to read it.