James

I thought the gas would be enough to get home. In hindsight, it was obvious that it wouldn't be enough. I parked the car by the sidewalk. It was the middle of the night.

Turning my head sideways, I saw the man. He was smoking a cigarette. He had been sitting, but now stood up.

"Yes?" he said. "Who is it?"

Even though I had chanced upon him and his house because my gas ran out, I realized it looked sketchy as hell.

"Hello, sir. I just ran out of gas."

"Did ya?"

He was walking closer. He was tall and had a very dark beard, trimmed to perfection. He wore sweatpants and a soft looking white shirt, showing his large shoulders and bulging chest.

"Yes, sir. I'm sorry. I'm just gonna call my dad so he can pick me up."

The man shook his head.

"I think I have a spare can. Wait up."

I insisted that it wasn't necessary, but he paid no mind and walked off to his garage and out of my field of vision. I didn't know why I was a little skeptical, a little afraid.

He didn't look like a kind man. His countenance was angry, his posture aggressive. And he was too quick to offer help.

But he came back carrying a gas can and asked me to allow him to pour it in my car. I felt like a damn fool.

After he was done, he walked away.

"Thank you!"

But he didn't seem to be bothered to acknowledge me anymore. He lit another cigarette and sat back down in his chair.

I started the car, glanced at the man again and he was looking back. I nodded. He didn't nod back.

Dad was waiting for me when I got home.

"Jesus, Damian! Make more noise. You know how your mother loves waking up at night." He was at the entrance to the kitchen, drinking coffee. "Did something happen?"

"Nothing happened," I said. I didn't know why I lied. It didn't surprise me that he was awake, since he had problems sleeping.

"I thought you were sleeping at Joy's."

"Nope."

He sipped his coffee and stared with his baggy black eyes.

"Did you fight again?"

"It's my business, dad."

I headed to my room. I felt a great deal of gratitude rush over me when I finally laid on my bed. That stranger had just saved me a lot boredom waiting in that car in the middle of the night.

The next morning, I made up with Joy over the phone. We still had some things to talk about, so I decided to go over there again. I recognized the house as I passed it, but the guy was nowhere to be seen.

Joy and I locked ourselves in her room, away from her noisy family, and I told her what had happened after our fight.

"What a nice guy," she said.

Indeed. I was bothered by my behavior. I felt like a pussy. I obviously didn't tell my girlfriend that I had been afraid of the guy.

"I want to apologize to you..." I said to my girlfriend. "I shouldn't have left things that way Yesterday."

"I waited to tell you in bed because I thought you wouldn't leave," she said.

"You underestimated how dramatic I am."

She laughed.

"Things are gonna work. It's just college, and we're gonna visit each other."

"I know. I'll try not to be jealous."

And I let go of the issue for now, although I still felt betrayed that she chose a very far away college instead of the one literally in our city.

"I gotta go," I said an hour later. "Dad is waiting for me. Gotta help him with some paperwork. He's overloaded."

"But you just got here."

She looked at me sadly. I place a soft kiss on her lips.

"I really gotta go."

On the way back, I finally saw the tall man again. There were some boxes in front of his house, half a dozen maybe. He was carrying one to the garage. It seemed like he could use a bit of help. I parked my car by the sidewalk, and he instantly turned his head to look.

I approached him.

"If you tell me you need gas again I'll punch you in the face," he said. I laughed, even though he seemed pretty serious.

"It just looked like you needed some help," I said.

He looked me over with a judgmental stare.

"I didn't want the moving crew to help me. What makes you think I need yours?"

He looked at me like he wanted an actual answer; he was a pretty scary guy, towering over me.

"Sorry to bother," I said, turning around.

"You want to repay me for helping you, huh?"

"Yeah, that's right."

"Let's carry this one," he said. We barely managed to lift it, and carrying it all the way to the garage was hell. "I probably shouldn't have dispensed the help of the moving crew."

"Why did you?" I said, smiling. He didn't smile.

"Well, I didn't have much to do all day, so I thought this would keep me going."

And so we began to carry all the boxes. They were all heavy.

"So you're just moving in, huh?" I said after the fifth one.

"I've been here for a few days, but I wanted to get the feel of it before bringing my things."

The boxes were all brought in. He began to mingle with one, completely ignoring me.

"I wanted to thank you properly, uh..."

"You don't need to. You've repaid me, right? That's why you helped me with the boxes." he said. There was not a hint of humor in his voice.

Damn, what an asshole.

I decided to just let him be, feeling quite satisfied with myself.

When I got home, my mom asked me why I was back so early. She was cleaning the house, but she wore her jogging clothes and was sweaty, probably had just got back from running.

"If Joy calls, just tell her I'm helping dad with something."

"Your dad is at his job," she said.

"Yes, mom. It's called a lie. And go take a shower, for Christ's sake. Your dripping sweat everywhere."

I ignored some of Joy's calls, but eventually answered her. I could tell she was a little sad, but didn't press me. Regretting my behavior, I gave her all my attention for the rest of the day. I just couldn't forget that she was leaving soon. Every time I tried to be cool, I was reminded of that.

Much like the very first time, I met the asshole dude again in the middle of the night, coming back from my girlfriend's.

He was smoking, sitting by himself in his porch. But this time he was sitting in the steps. He didn't budge as I stopped the car. I didn't know what made me stop. I walked to him.

"It's you again," he said in the most monotone voice ever. He puffed out some smoke.

"I want to say I'm sorry."

I was expecting him to ask why.

The dude sighed. "Why don't you just say things? It's always, I want to say this, I want to say that." He sounded annoyed.

I gave up and turned to go away.

"Fine..." he said. "Why?"

"Cause I acted like a pussy when you helped me back then. I didn't even got out of the car."

"Do you smoke?" he asked.

Did he just completely ignore my apology?

"Sometimes."

He gave me one, then lit it. I sat down next to him.

"You do this often, then?" I asked.

"Pretty much. This neighborhood is too damn quite for my taste."

"Why did you move in?"

"It's temporary. No more than two months, I think."

I thought it was strange, but didn't press it.

"I don't know your name."

"James."

"Mine's Damian."

He nodded.

"How old are you?" he asked.

"Two and twenty."

"You know, I've been thinking about the reason you come by this road so late...and I came to three alternatives. Sketchy job, drugs or girlfriend."

I chuckled, even though he was as serious as ever.

"The latter."

James only nodded, but I felt compelled to open up to him. He offered no comment as I told him that she was leaving soon.

"I've been growing kind of distant lately. I feel weird sleeping there. Like, I can't help but think she doesn't want me to be close."

"A bit dramatic, don't you think?"

"Yeah, I definitely think that." I blushed. "You're not used to suburbs, are you? You're from the city."

"The heart of the city. I miss the noise. And I hate crickets. And dogs."

I ventured further.

"What happened?"

He looked at me then, as if deciding if I was a worthy listener.

"Got caught in a bad situation at my office."

Curiosity boiled up in me.

"So..."

"I fucked an intern. Pictures got around. My partners decided I should step back for a while."

"Shit..."

"You look like him."

"Who?"

"The intern."

The smoke got caught in my throat and I coughed. Did I hear right? He didn't sound like he was joking, but then again, maybe he had a twisted sense of humor.

"So you are..."

"Gay."

"Huh. You don't look...gay."

"That's homophobic," he said nonchalantly. I felt flustered under his intense stare. "Fortunately for you, I don't give a crap about that stuff."

I sighed.

"I'm sorry." I realized that he might interpret my visits as something else. "Well, I'm not, you know. Gay, I mean."

"Please...I know a straight guy when I see one. But if you're bothered, you can leave. I wouldn't think less of you. I told you, I don't care."

"I don't care either!" I said defensively.

A dog began to bark somewhere, and James sighed.

"You know, even though I hate that dog and these damn crickets, it's still better than the silence."

I stopped by his house the next day on the way to Joy's house to ask him if maybe he wanted to hit the gym together. He was new to those parts and I could help him out.

His voice and countenance seemed to tell me I was unwanted, but my guts were telling me he enjoyed my company, so I insisted.

He ended up agreeing. We began to frequent the gym the next week. He was way more advanced than me, his body was honed to the point it made me feel a little envious.

He eventually invited me to hang out inside the house, and finally he told me he liked boxing. He had a room with two punching bags hanging from the ceiling, a multi-functional boxing gym-equipment with two limbs that moved around and you were suppose to hit and dodge.

"Sometimes I spend hours in here," he said. "Wanna try?"

"Hell yeah."

He gave me the gloves.

And after a few minutes, I realized how much more fun it was than the gym.

"You can come up here any time, as long as I'm not using it," he said.

"Dude...seriously?"

"Seriously."

I was smiling wildly with gratitude, but he only nodded. I wondered if I had ever seen him smile.

The room had air-conditioning, but every day I was always drenched in sweat. Eventually, James walked in on me shirtless. I felt like I was caught doing something wrong.

"Don't be stupid," he said after I apologized. That was that. He watched me through a good half-an-hour and I noticed the way he looked at me. I would be stupid not to notice.

I was flattered in a way, specially because when I suddenly looked at him, he was...flustered, even avoided eye contact and as he walked out of the room, he tripped on nothing.

"Fuck," he said.

"You okay?"

"Yeah," he said sharply. He left. I smiled.

He was always watching me. At first he pretended to be boxing as well, but eventually he just stood with his arms crossed and watched approvingly. It was like he wasn't there, even when I stared back at him. He was in a totally different world where he there was only him and my body.

I thought it was funny...until I saw his erection for the first time. My eyes never dart towards that direction. So it was a surprise for me.

"I'm sorry," James said. I stood there like an idiot as he left the room. I felt bad for him. I tried coming back to working out, but just couldn't, so I removed the gloves and went after him.

I found him in the kitchen, drinking some water. He saw me.

"I gotta be honest with you," he said before I could say anything. "I'm pretty honest, you know. Every time. I know you're straight, and I know you also enjoy being looked at. No need to deny it. But I've been enjoying looking at you a little too much."

I blushed.

"It's my fault."

"No, it's not. You are...a very healthy young man. And I'm gay. I am okay with just looking, specially if you're okay with being looked at. I won't assume anything. I don't think you're wrong, or gay, for enjoying attention. Who doesn't? But if you are bothered by it, I suggest you don't come around here anymore. Because I don't think I can stop myself."

I let out a chuckle.

"Fuck...you are honest."

He didn't smile.

"So?"

"I'm okay with just looking...back there...I got a little weirded out because you were...hard. But it was just out of surprise. Of course I should've known. But hey, I trust you. You've been respectful so far. I don't care if you look."

"Are you really sure?" he said.

I nodded, and smiled.

"Thank you, Damian." He was dead serious.

I refrained from telling my parents or my girlfriend about my boxing sessions with my friend. I told myself that it was because I didn't need to, but eventually I accepted I was trying to hide him. If anything, he was just a gym buddy and nothing else.

During those days, I became a shittier boyfriend, and in each I would end up missing dozens of Joy's calls. The worst of it was that she didn't even get mad at me because she guessed correctly that I was hurt about her leaving still. We both pretended things were okay in person, but they weren't, and it weighted on the relationship.

The punching bags over at James's would receive some of that accumulated frustration transmuted into harsh strikes.

"And I want..." Punch. "I want to be okay with it," punch, punch. "But it doesn't change the fact," punch, punch, punch. "That she chose to go away when there is a college very close. Dude, are you listening?"

James was staring at me, but at that moment I obviously wasn't a talking person but an object to be appreciated.

He shook his head and looked at me as if waiting for me to speak for the first time. I couldn't even be mad at him. He was touching himself slightly, rubbing the volume on his crotch, in a way that wasn't very obvious.

Sometimes he excused himself to the bathroom and spent twenty or more minutes there. I could guess exactly what he was doing, but it didn't bother me.

"What?" he said.

I chuckled.

"It's the price of being a healthy young man, I guess."

"I gotta go to the bathroom," he said. He was standing up but then he stopped. "Hey...I'm sorry. We'll talk later. I'll listen, I promise."

"No worries. Enjoy yourself."

He was at the door about to leave.

"James..."

"What?"

I took off my shorts.

"I was thinking that maybe I don't need these. You wouldn't mind, would you?"

He slowly got away from the door. His eyes were in the shape of my cock, on my tight black boxers, and I even turned around.

James got all red in the face, and speech left him as he looked.

"Were you leaving?"

"I guess I can stay a little more."

He sat back down. For a few minutes, he watched silently as I punched. I stopped to rest and was a bit surprised by the intensity that he was looking at my lower body. He was rubbing two fingers on his lips, the other hand slightly touching the sides of his volume. His face had gotten redder.

It was then that I finally put into words in my mind that James was...crazy about me. He wanted to fuck me. He desired me so clearly it was stamped on his face.

And I was here torturing him. Torturing my friend.

I got hard. I got hard and I wasn't ashamed of it. Got so hard that the tip of my cock began to slip out of the boxers.

"I think you should leave," he said in a guttural voice. His hands were shaking.

"Alright. I'm sorry, James."

I quickly dressed up and James never left the chair.

I came back on the very next day to apologize, but when he answered the door, he seemed relieved to see me. He didn't smile or anything, but I could tell he was relieved.

"I'm sorry for my behavior," he said. "And telling you to leave. I think it was the right choice, but I'm still sorry."

"No, James, it was my fault. I shouldn't be torturing you."

"Shut up. Your torture is the best part of my day."

He delivered that with such a straight face that I couldn't help but be aroused.

We went to the boxing room together. He sat in his usual chair while I undressed to my underwear. I was excited to be doing it. My excitement was showing. Clearly. I nudged and fixed my erection many times during the training. James eventually excused himself to the bathroom.

I felt a bit curious and followed him stealthily to hear by the door. I put my ear against it, and wasn't surprised to hear moaning.

He was thinking of me...doing things to me.

I went back quickly, blood rushing to my face and cock.

I wanted to "excuse myself to the bathroom" too, apparently. I was too ashamed to do it in his house, so I waited until I was back home, being as quiet as possible so my parents wouldn't hear it. My very first load because of James.

"Every day I expect you to stop coming," James said, once again opening the door for me.

"Why wouldn't I?"

Back in the boxing room, when I took off my shirt, I threw it in his face. I was still hunting for a smile, but he sighed and took my shirt in his hands.

"Thank you," he said, and smelled it.

I did the same with the shorts, watching him. He smelled that too, both the front and the rear.

Aroused like a horny dog, he expectantly looked at my tight boxers.

"If you had to choose," I said. "Which would it be, front or back?"

His eyes went wild for a second. He shook his head at me.

"I can't choose."

"Do it."

"In what way...will it be a long stare, or just a flash?"

I thought about it.

"A flash."

He agonized for a bit.

"The front," he said.

I smiled, and lowered my underwear down to my knees. I was curved, considerably bushy around crotch and balls, uncut. I moved it around, turning sideways, making it bounce.

James's face contorted as if in pain. "You must be the devil."

I turned around and showed him my tight hairy ass too, surprising him even more.

He excused himself to go to the bathroom.

"Don't go," I asked.

"Please?" he begged in a hushed tone.

"No...I mean...you don't have to go. Just do it here."

"In front of you?" He seemed worried. "Won't you be...disgusted?"

"I don't think so."

James became quiet, and I decided to let him think about it, returning my attention to the boxing. I raised my underwear just a bit so it wouldn't impair me, but it was still revealing all my ass and cock. The movement made me bounce a lot. I sneaked a peek after a while. James was touching himself. His cock was out, pale and veined, a big purple head. It seemed wet.

I let him be, only looking when I heard grunts. It didn't take long for him to shoot. I watched everything.

First, what called my attention was the visage of the thick strings of white cum which streamed from his cock. But then, I was fascinated by the face, his open mouth shocked with the intensity of his own orgasm, the furrows of his eyes and forehead, the veins jutting out...until everything relaxed at once, and then he was relieved.

I turned away, my knees weakening.

James walked silently out without saying another word. I worried he was mad or something, but he came back eventually. My underwear was back on.

"Had to take a shower," he said. "I'll prepare some food for you."

He was gloomy and serious, but that was always him.

That was only the first time. After that, I was always naked. The moment I stepped through the door, I would leave my clothes and walk around while he watched me. James masturbated without shame.

I grew courage to rub one out in front of him. I was scared, even though I knew he wasn't going to complain.

"Look at you, you're so goddamn beautiful," he said when I finally shot my load on the ground, making a mess.

"I'm sorry, I'll clean it up."

"You'll do no such a thing," he said. "Get out. I'll clean it for you."

He made me leave the room, locked himself in and came out a few minutes later. The ground was clean.

I wanted to ask how he did it.

"Did you use your clothes?" But there was no wet marks, nothing to say he did use them.