He's Too Beautiful

Author's Note:

First, let me apologize to any native or fluent speakers of German that might happen to read this. I do not speak or read German. However, I had to find some way to translate my English into German. Google Translate may or may not have given me the correct translation. If you have a more accurate translation, please message me with it. I welcome it.

Now, for the disclaimer. This is a rather short one-shot fiction story, of a romance. Any resemblance to any persons living or dead is purely coincidental, and is unintended. This came to me while thinking of the second Chapter of Becoming Warm. This story contains situations of consensual male/male sex between men who are greater than 18 years of age. If such things are illegal to read in your country, you are urged to obey your regional laws. The author is not responsible for your actions. Thank you.

Now to the story.

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The moans of a lover. The feeling of a firm, yet soft body beneath my own. The taste of that lover's lips and tongue on my own. I missed all of these and more, by signing up for the International Collegiate Exchange.

I spent six years in Europe, learning and working as an English-German translator in the University at Arnstadt in Germany. Those were indeed lonely years, and I lacked the one thing that would have made life infinitely easier: a companion.

Perhaps, though, dear reader, I should tell you a bit about me first. My name is Mikel Erich Riley. I am the only son of German mother and Irish father, born in Dallas, Texas. I had come out to my parents when I was fifteen. But, I was not the stereotypical feminine gay man, but rather felt comfortable in my already masculine skin. I had not a single problem with feminine men, I just was not one.

I kept in shape by running and doing workouts that utilized my own body as a resistance device, trying to save money by not running to the gymnasium at every turn. From the point of view of a possible admirer, I suppose I looked good. I had very little fat, and had a firm, slightly rippled abdomen, with muscular legs and arms, and a thick, strong chest. Yet, despite these obvious advantages, I saw myself as wholly undesirable, expressly because I was only animated when in my job as a translator, or in the process of learning a new language, or when playing my keyboard, something I'd done for years, and frankly had become quite good at.

I was twenty when I went to Germany for this scholastic opportunity. I had taken German language courses since age six, as well as having been raised in a household that spoke Gaelic, German, and English equally, making me fully trilingual. So, at twenty-six, I was very fluent in German, and had gained a lot of knowledge about German culture, something that, to be frank, did not interest me that much at this point.

It got to a point that I became completely disinterested in my job. So, with decisions made, and my term in Germany over, I sold what I'd accumulated, and bought passage back to the US. I bought a condominium in Dallas, near the Oak Lawn district, Dallas' LGBT district.

I obtained a day job as a document translator for a Multinational tech company, translating English language documentation into both German and Gaelic. I was being paid well, and still had plenty of time for a decent life.

My parents had, by now, accepted my lifestyle, especially after doing scientific research on sexuality. So, I reestablished my relationship with them, and we were at good terms.

"Miki, mein son," My mother would say, "You need to find you a good Ehemann (husband) and settle down."

I would smile, and kiss her forehead, and whisper in her ear, "Ich liebe dich, liebe Mutter. (I love you, mother dear)" I had no intention of involving myself in matters of love, and did not want to get hurt.

That changed the moment I met Sean Patrick Eldridge, a twenty-four year old technician at the company I worked for

He was a fantastically vibrant young man, standing about five feet, ten inches, just about four inches shorter than me. His strawberry blond hair was lightly spiked, and his brilliant smile always seemed to shine from a face that tanned very lightly. He was not a gym bunny, so to speak, but was most definitely in shape.

He and I struck up a friendship, and I developed a desire for a certain Gaelic speaking Irish boy that had no way of knowing my desire, or so I thought. So, I hid my desire, and simply did my best not to destroy what was indeed a fantastic friendship with a beautiful man. I believed that I was not worthy of his affection, if indeed there were any. I believed that someone as beautiful as he was, inside and out, would not want the quiet kind of man that I was.

One morning, at the office, I was checking my email, when I was visited by a delivery man from the local florist, who was carrying a small bouquet of carnations and hyacinths, my two favorite flowers, both of which I grew at home. On the bouquet hung a note that read as follows: "Dear Mikel, I hope that this bouquet does not frighten you. I see you daily, and have become a secret admirer of you, loving you in secret. I shall remain a secret, until the time is right. Just know this. You are intensely loved, despite how you perceive yourself. All my love, SA."

I was very confused, to be honest, and wondered intensely who would have sent me such a beautiful gift. Who was this person? I ran through the list of people I saw daily, and most all of them knew of my preferences, so hopefully, it was a male. That said, I knew that the likelihood of that being the case was not so great. I did my work, and of course got repeatedly asked about the flowers. I always answered the same. "I don't know who sent them."

That afternoon, I accepted Sean's invitation to join him and a group of friends for a large gathering and picnic at a nearby park. I purposely stayed near Sean, and joined in the various games he played in. The evening was amazing, to be honest, and I was reluctant to go home, and home I went.

Now alone and in the privacy of my own shower, under the spray of warm water, I slowly stroked my shaft, imagining his body against mine, and his lips on my neck, a particularly sensitive spot. In my mind, he stripped slowly, staring into my eyes, then slowly turned and bent to show his tight anus to my loving, wanting eyes. I increased the speed of the stroking, throwing back my head, and moaning. It was not long till I was firing a volley of cum onto the shower walls, his name on my lips.

I cleaned up, finished my shower in rapidly cooling water, and after drying myself, sank naked into the bed, and fell into a fitful, dream-filled sleep. I dreamed, for the first time, of him. And, when I woke, fifteen minutes prior to the alarm clock's sounding, I did so, cumming from the dream, without actually having touched my cock at all. This was to be the first of several wet dreams I would have.

I again showered, and prepared for another day of work, knowing that, being a Saturday, I was scheduled to do a half-day's work. I could not get neither the dream, nor Sean's beautiful face from my mind.

When I arrived at my desk, I noticed a sealed envelope slid beneath the keyboard of my computer. I pulled the envelope out, and sat in my chair, then opened the missive to read it. The words on the page were typed in simple Arial font, and they were composed in a way that would not immediately give away the identity of the writer.

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.

I love thee to the depth and breadth and height

My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight

For the ends of being and ideal grace.

I love thee to the level of every day's

Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.

I love thee freely, as men strive for right.

I love thee purely, as they turn from praise.

I love thee with the passion put to use

In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.

I love thee with a love I seemed to lose

With my lost saints. I love thee with the breath,

Smiles, tears, of all my life; and, if God choose,

I shall but love thee better after death.

Elizabeth Barrett Browning (Sonnet 43)

My dear Mikal, please forgive me for quoting this famous poem, but it speaks so soundly about my feelings. The time approaches, but you will not hear from me for some time. I will reveal myself in time, but not until I feel time is right.

All my love in all ways,

SA

I won't deceive the gentle reader. I wept for a moment, because for the first time, I actually felt loved. No one had ever taken the time to even find a poem to give me up to that point. It was apparent my secret admirer was a romantic.

I still did not know who my admirer was, but I had someone who I wanted it to be. I dearly hoped it was Sean. I wanted it badly.

And, I was glad I was sitting behind a desk, because I was tenting my trousers. I put the card away, wiped the tears away, and got to work. I poured all my attention into the work. And, I did so for the next month.

True to my secret admirer's word, I did not hear from him/her for about two months. During this time, the friendship with Sean had developed well, and we were fast friends, sharing laughs, and hugs, and many other things. I must say, I was happy to have the friendship, but my nights were spent wanking like a gibbon to fantasies of Sean in various sexy situations in my bed. (Fantastic mental image, eh? I know...)

I had actually spent some time with him, watching the local hockey team go crazy against their opponents in the next state. After, we'd ate pizza at my house, and laughing at the antics of the Monty Python cast. We'd developed an inside joke that we never used except when alone. It involved the African swallow joke, and what would have happened if the coconuts had been replaced with melons. It was funny only to us, and we knew it. Our childish humor would not be accepted elsewhere.

So, weeks went by, never hearing from my admirer, and wondering when the missives would restart. Also, the fact that I saw Sean often did nothing if not inflame my desire for him. It had become painful to not have him near me.

It was a weird morning. I woke up in a sweat, having once again cum in the night, my chest covered with the effluent of a rather intense wet dream. I growled at myself, as had become normal for me. I showered, dressed, and headed into a rainy, dreary morning.

Traffic was thick, and drivers were being rather stupid, rubber-necking at the strangest things. I had to call my boss and report to him, for the first time, that I would be late due to traffic on the interstate highway. He was very kind and flexible, saying that I needed to be careful, and get there when I could. So, that's what I did, getting off the highway, and using the side streets. I got in ten minutes late, to find that my boss had signed me in right on time. I could only thank him.

I pulled my mail from the box, and headed to my office. I immediately found that my admirer had resumed contact. My dear Mikal, The time for revelation is close. I ended communication earlier, in order that I could analyze my feelings and make a decision. I can only say that my feelings have not changed, except to grow stronger. And now, I intend to reveal myself to you soon. But until that happens, just know you are loved, and hopefully, we can be together as I believe we are meant to. All my eternal love, SA

Now I was in a state. I was confused, and happy, and angry all at once. Confused as to who this was, but happy that this person had resumed contact, yet angry that this person wouldn't reveal their identity on my schedule. And yet, I knew that this was such a stupid reaction. No need to be angry.

My day was spent in trying to concentrate on my work. I somewhat succeeded. When time to clock out, I did so, and headed straight home. That night, I slept very badly. I dreamed of weird things, and ended up waking up an hour early, to take a shower and pop a few aspirin.

I sat for a while in the cafe across from my work, nursing a coffee and an unhealthy breakfast of biscuits, sawmill gravy, ham steak, and hash-brown casserole, when the waitress put her hand on my shoulder. "Are you Mikal?"

I looked up startled, and nodded, "Yes, I am. Is something wrong?"

She chuckled, and said, "No, I don't think so. I was told by a walk-customer, who's already left, to give you this." She handed me an envelope with my name on it, and smiled at me. "You are a lucky man, if that is what I think it is." She left me then, and went back to work.

I looked at her with a bit of consternation, then down at the envelope. I opened it, confused, then looking at the included picture, I broke out laughing. I knew exactly who my admirer was. And, frankly I was elated. The picture was a photoshopped image of an African swallow, with a pair of melons hanging from a line grasped in its talons. Only Sean would know about that conversation, and be able to create something of this sort. On the back, he'd written in his perfect hand, My Dear Mikal, I hope this tells you all you need to know. I love you deeply, and want to get the charade of secrecy ended. Hope you get the picture's joke. If you do, let me know when you see me. I leave it to you to find a way.

SA.

I got the message loud and clear. I called the waitress over and said, "So, what do you think of my man?"

She looked at me and chuckled. "Hun, all I am going to say is this: Love him as much as he loves you, and nothing will break you apart. As to his looks, he's rather hot. I can see the attraction. Were I straight, I'd try for him." She laughed here, and I joined her. I attempted to pay for my meal, but she said, "It's on me, sweety. Go get your man." I hugged her and left in a rush.

Getting into work, I went directly to his cubicle, seeing him hard at work, drawing on graph paper, and I came up behind him. "Melons, eh?" I chuckled, and continued. "Yes, I get the joke, and thank you." I leaned down and kissed his neck. "If I am wrong, forget me." I walked back to my desk and sat down, only to be suddenly tackled from behind.

Sean was now practically wrapped around me. He was weeping, and whispering his love in my ear. I kissed him softly, and whispered to him, "So, I guess I got it right."

He laughed a bit breathlessly, and stood, a hand on my cheek. "Yeah, you got it right. I thought for a long time on something only we would know, and that seemed to be the only thing that would come to mind. Was it ok?"

I kissed his hand, and smiled up at him, "Yes, my secret admirer, it was perfect. And trust me when I say, every word you wrote to me is also meant for you. I loved you when we met, but could not say anything. Now you love me, and it makes me happy beyond belief."

He kissed me, whispered a promise of time spent together, and returned to work.

I was incredibly relieved, and was able to put away a lot of projects. Several people mentioned the wide smile on my face, and some even congratulated me on finally finding out who my admirer was.

Then the boss stepped into my office, and sat in a chair. He grinned, and said, "We all knew you two would get together. And, we knew who your admirer was within a week. We just wondered when you'd find out. Anyway, I am happy you've found each other. And to that end, I am giving both of you the rest of the day off, as well as the rest of the week. That's five days payed leave. You two come back on Monday, and be ready to work."

I hugged him tightly, then ran to Sean's cubicle, and encountered him packing his laptop and getting ready to go. I kissed him, and said, "Ready to go, baby?"

"Yes, I am. Your house."

We left the place hand in hand, and headed for our cars.

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My house was situated on the outskirts of the city, about a fifteen-minute drive from our job. I'm sure that the three neighbors I had were likely confused as to why two cars pulled in to the same drive. But, those confusions were put to rest when Sean came up to me, put his arms around me and proceeded to kiss me deeply, sending me into orbit, so to speak.

There's something so deep about being kissed by the person you've loved for a long time. It runs all the way from your lips to your crotch and legs, and back up, filling you with passion that simply will not end. I felt this feeling in spades. It was as if a large wave of arousal washed over me and wouldn't relent.

I kissed Sean back with as much love and passion as I had. My hands caressed his body, as my tongue sank deeply into his warm mouth. He moaned deeply, answering my own moan of pleasure. I felt his hardness press against my thigh, and I pushed hard against it, eliciting another deep moan from him.

We continued to kiss and caress out in the open, when I felt his body stiffen and shake. He let out a cry, and suddenly I felt moisture through my pants. He took a deep breath, and slowly stood up straight, clearly embarrassed. He looked up at me, and said, "I came... just by kissing and touching you."

I smiled down into his face, and leaned in to kiss his nose. "It's alright, baby. It makes me happy to know I turn you on that much. But, we do need to get inside. We've likely given my neighbors a heart attack, and I want to remain friends with them if I can." I smiled, and led him directly into the house.

He stopped me, once inside, and fell to his knees before me, while simultaneously removing his shirt and pants, and opening my own pants. He reached into the pants, and pulled my hard member out, and admired it, touching gently every inch of it with soft fingers. His thing, long digits played havoc on my senses, and moans that seemed animalistic in nature poured from my throat.

He slowly lowered his warm mouth over my cock and took all eight inches inside his mouth and throat. He began to slowly lave my palpitating member with loving sucks, nips, and licks, pulling a firm suction on the head, then sinking deeply, the head driving down into his throat, where he would hold for a moment, breathing through his nose.

"Oh fuck..." I moaned as his mouth seemed to touch each sensitive spot on my cock simultaneously. I reached down, and pulled him up, kissed him, tasting my precum on his lips. I whispered, "My room, my bed. Now."

He nodded, and walked directly toward the room. He already knew where it was, because he'd been here before. When I got into the room, he was on his knees, his tight, round buttocks arched into the air, and his face on the bed, in clear invitation to me, showing me what he wanted. To be sure, I wanted this as well.

I knee-walked to behind him, while reaching over to the side table and grabbing my large tub of jacking lube, something I'd kept around for some time. This I opened, and began to lovingly massage this into his beautiful hole, careful to push the lube into his hole without penetration first. After doing this, I began to gently press the tip of my index finger into him, slowly, but incessantly pressing deeper. I began to slowly finger-fuck him with my slick digit, listening to, and watching him for any signs of pain.

His moans told me that he was enjoying this, as were his breathy exclamations of "Yes, Daddy Mike!" I was stunned. I had no idea he was so submissive. And frankly, I loved it. If he wanted me to be his daddy at home, I would try to be the best daddy I could.

I leaned down toward his right ear, and whispered to him, "You want me to be your daddy, baby? You wanna be my baby boy?"

He nodded, and moaned, "Oh, yes, Daddy! I need to be yours!"

I almost came right there, but held back. I pressed a second digit into him, and continued to ream him out, occasionally brushing his prostate, causing him to moan and flex with pleasure. After some time, I added a second digit, and continued, slightly faster this time.