Geoff and Chet Ch. 05

"I tried another half dozen times. I always got hit on quickly and had choices. Once, I let an older stud fuck me, but he wasn't very good. He was hairy, selfish and got himself off, leaving me to handle myself. And except for a few well-chosen toys, that's it for me. And that's it for me. I've never told anyone about this side of me. Except for my confession without details to my folks--which I totally regret--, I am totally in the closet, a deep, cedar-lined, dark closet. I know I'm clean—the USCF prescribes tests for every know disease and substance on a weekly basis. Although they don't require this in the summer, I've had a dry spell and a deep and enduring love affair with my right hand—until you came along."

"Geoff, you scare me. Less than 24 hours with you and I'm rethinking decisions I thought I had made about myself. We've already done stuff and ah'm thinking about other stuff that I hadn't thought possible until you. Right now cycling is my life—and perhaps my ticket to fame and fortune. I can't risk that. But, with you, I'm willing to see how this might work."

"Provided that this is not just a hookup."

"Maybe I should begin thinking that my future is in psychotherapy instead of surgery or emergency medicine. I can't believe you confessed all of that to me even before our first date."

"Well, you did save my life."

"I don't think so, but I'm ready to take credit anytime. Particularly, if it comes with a reward."

"So in the interest of full and equal disclosure, here goes. You already know where I am going and that my family is wealthy and supportive. I've never questioned my future or what I will do. By the same token, I am absolutely gay and totally out. I have never done anything more than kiss a girl, but I've been sexually active for about five years—since senior year in high school. Not publicly gay until second year at UT—it was just too much effort. I've hooked some, and I'm told that I'm a good lover. I'm considerate and I know what I'm doing. I always deliver a very good time. But I tend to be more of a relationship kind of guy. And I am spoiled—I can only get it on with a good looking well-built guy whose name and number I know. And I get to call the shots."

"Two guys have been special. Jason lasted about a year. He was a blonde wrestler with a fat stubby dick that attracted guys like honeybees to nectar. He was a submissive bottom for me, but decided that he wanted to swing for awhile and maybe try some topping. He was athletic in bed, liked it pretty rough, and he was looking to expand our circle of partners. I couldn't handle that, so we parted. I thought we had something mutual going on, but I realized the attraction wasn't exclusive or reciprocal. I went into a funk.

On rebound, I met Connor, and we hit it off. He had a great swimmers body—Celtic features, and a longish, thin dick, and he was in to me. We met at the pool, but he wasn't on the team or I probably wouldn't have hit on him. We talked and laughed all the time. And he loved having me inside him. We fucked like bunnies. He was very affectionate. He enjoyed being wrapped in my arms while he slept, while he studied, while he watched TV. He was a grad student at UT in history with his own apartment. We actually lived more or less together for almost a year. I thought this might be permanent, but he got a teaching fellowship at UC Davis—and I wasn't going to transfer for my last year. Mom and Dad would probably not have permitted it anyway. We corresponded for a few weeks, but then he found someone, and it was over. Apparently he was addicted to my dick and maybe my cuddly arms, but not to me.

That's when I discovered that I am susceptible to depression when my relationships break up. I then proceeded to a series of hookups. I was usually the top, but I did experiment a bit. I did learn that I enjoyed anal, but I like to be in control. I am not a dom; I'm not into pain or punishment—life is too good. I'd consider a little bondage with the right partner. Obviously, I don't think I have any self-esteem issues."

"I had pretty much come to that conclusion."

"Oh stuff it, Messieur le Champion de Tour and talented French cocksman. You're not so modest either. So stuff it."

"Sure. Just tell me where."

"So how much like Connor am I?"

I ignored the question. "For the last year since Connor, it has been only casual, fully-protected hookups. Swimming attracts its own groupies—including many older men, and it is pretty easy to let off steam. Just head to a pool in the evening wearing a tight Speedo, show your muscular body and smile. Spend a little time out of the water and in the lockers. It's easier cruising than a bar. My med training, my long arms and big hands, and my big dick have proven pretty popular—probably not in that order. But, nothing clicked and this summer has been pretty barren. I've done some bar hopping with old friends, but they do not swim on my team—so no sex. I was out with a bunch of them—good guys—the night before I met you. Besides, the summer at the ER has been grueling and I often just get home, swim and fall into bed. I've worked a lot of OT to give the married guys a chance to vacation with their families in the summer. Fatigue can be a horny guy's best friend." (I decided not to mention Sven just in case this didn't work out.)

"And then you happened. You just dropped into my life. Or maybe you fell into my life. Physically, you are what I dream about—handsome, tall, blond, built, masculine--but you know that. Your syrupy Savannah drawl melts my jockstrap—I actually think you could fuck me without my even knowing I'd been fucked. Just hypnotize me with your melodic, drawly words as you drop my shorts, bend me over, and slip that long snake in. You could be in, off and out, leaving me dripping your spunk and I wouldn't understand how I had been fucked or why I was dripping. They ought to market drawl as anesthetizing lube. You are just so smooth and such a sensual animal that I'm hard just thinking about you.

"I hope this can work out, but, as Dad says, let's take this one day at a time and enjoy each other. I'm not looking for a hookup—although in your case, I'd make an exception if you really insist."

Chet reached over and grabbed my upper thigh, his fingers creeping under the fabric of the shorts brushing through my pubes as he drawled. "Yessir. I unnerstand. I'm feeling the same. I reckon we're goin have some good times together. I am sure lookin at ridin y'all. And just so you're not fretting over it, I'm going to bottom for y'all before this day is over. That's ma thank you for what yall's done. And we'll see what surprises the good lord has in store for us after that."

"Good by me. In fact, great by me. But, please drop the southern. What comes naturally is fine, but the rest...."

The cab grew quiet as he continued to tease the tip of my long hard cock which he had pulled out of my jock. It was creeping down the leg of my shorts. We approached our exit and were soon driving into the bike shop parking area. I waited a few moments and breathed deeply thinking about open heart surgery to get my dick to subside so I wasn't obscene in my shorts—fortunately, I had worn a tight jock and I could reposition, but there are limits. Then I got out and grabbed the frame; he picked up the front wheel; and, we went in. The greeter looked at what we had and pointed to the entry to the shop in the back. "I'll see you back there as soon as I finish helping this young lady."

An hour or so later, the frame had been analyzed—it needed only minor adjustments (about $100), and some paint ($250); but the wheel was shot (on order, $850); and the controls and re-assembly would take only about an hour (another $200). I handed my VISA to the mechanic. Chet started to protest, but I stopped him before the first word came out. "This will be covered by Amazon, I am pretty sure. And, if not, you can owe me." Turning to the mechanic, I said, "Do you think you can finish by next Friday morning? Chet is on a national cycling team training in Houston and I need to drive him down on Saturday morning." "Yes, sir. We can do it, provided the wheel comes in."

"Thanks," he whispered and touched the small of my back and drifted down to my ass. I think he was about to ask about my plans for Saturday, until I turned and headed back to the truck.

"Matt is probably home by now and that pool is waiting. Let's go—unless there is something else you need?"

"There is. But not here. Ah'm gonna do my damndest make you very comfortable—or maybe uncomfortable--on the way home."