The Human Condition Ch. 03

"Come on babe," I leaned over Joe and shook my head over his chest. "It's time to get moving." My hair was still dripping from the shower and cold drops fell on him waking him instantly.

"Arghh!" He grunted and grabbed my arm pulling me on top of him. His hands moved to my head and our lips met.

I kissed him briefly then raised my head and shook it as he tried to pull me back to his mouth. "No way buddy, we're late as it is." I protested with all the strength of will I had as he started to lick that spot right behind my ear.

"Mmmmm, why not? It's Saturday, the day for fun and relaxation," he reached down and pulled my towel out from under me.

"That's right, and today we're going to relax at the ball field, remember?" I tried to sit up, I really did, but his hand had slipped between my legs trying to reach the 'on' switch I seemed to have right behind my balls.

"Oh God," I sighed as he found it; the man knew all my buttons.

I made one last ditch argument for being ready on time. An argument, I might add; that I was rapidly hoping to lose.

"They're going to be here in an hour and you still have to shower and if we keep doing this I'll have to take another one." But my arms had snaked around his waist and were, even as I spoke, stroking his back lightly, urging him closer.

"Good, we can shower together," he bit lightly at my ear and I shivered involuntarily.

"God, what got into you to make you so horny?"

Joe stopped his nibbling and looked at me with fake disappointment. "How soon they forget." He sighed ostentatiously. "That's okay just use me and forget me."
He went back to attacking my neck.

I hadn't forgotten. Last night had been a rarity for us. In our normal choice of lovemaking, I bottom. I like it that way and so does Joe. But, on occasion we get the urge to switch. The result is usually spectacular which we both agree must be, in part, because it doesn't happen very often.

I know this doesn't make sense. If it feels so great why don't we do it more often? I can't explain; it just works that way for us.

One of the most interesting side effects of our role reversal is the effect it has on Joe's libido. For two or three days afterwards the man is insatiable. Of course I complain, but he doesn't pay any attention to me. Especially, since I can't keep the shit-eating grin off my face while I'm bitching.

"Oh damn!" I sighed wearily. After all, I have to keep up pretenses don't I? "You promised this wouldn't happen this time."

He moved like lightening and flipped me over until he was sitting straddled on my pelvis, my now hard cock resting in the crack of his ass. He leaned down and licked my lips.

"I lied," he said softly and my cock throbbed in glee.

He lifted himself to his knees and slid down moving between my legs until he could stretch out. Our cocks touched and did a dance of recognition. We both always had a lot of precum and we slipped and slid together now, our breath getting harsher and our hips more urgent.

"Now," Joe whispered. "I want your mouth now."

"Turn around," I grunted hoarsely, my mouth already salivating in anticipation of the treat it knew it was getting.

He obeyed. Just like he did every time I ordered him to do exactly what he wanted. As I took his hard tool in one long practiced gulp, I felt him lick my knob and grab my balls with the determination of a man on a mission. I moaned, vibrating his cock deep in my mouth.

"Oh God!" He growled in response then went back to licking his favorite lollipop.

It didn't take long for him. The feel of his cum splashing down my throat set me off and I found myself gripping his thighs spasmodically as I fought to catch every drop of his sweet seed. I held him in my mouth until he softened while he lapped me clean like a cat. We both moved to meet in the middle of the bed, our arms entwined; our tongues trading cum soaked kisses. Eventually, we collapsed back on the bed in a reversal of our positions of earlier in the morning.

"How can it be," Joe's head rested on my chest as he lazily circled a nipple with his finger. "That this keeps getting better?"

"Beats the Hell out of me, but ain't it loverly."

I know there are a lot of people out there, straight and gay who insist that the sex is at the beginning of a relationship. I don't agree. I've had my share of beginnings and so has Joe, but for both of us, the intimacy of a mature relationship is the ultimate satisfaction. Who could ever know me better than him? What I like, what I want, what I need.

"I knew you couldn't hold out," he said smugly as he snuggled in closer.

"Think you're so irresistible do you?"

"Only to you babe, only to you."

I kissed the top of his head in silent agreement. He looked up at me and grinned.

"And to think, there was a time you didn't want me for a roommate..."

April 20, 1988

"It ain't fucking going to happen," I said to Joe as we stood outside the manager's office of the apartment complex.

"Why not?" He stopped and waited for an answer, but I just kept on walking. He sighed and caught up with me and stopped me with a hand on my sleeve.

"I don't see what's the problem here," he argued. "You like the apartment, I like the apartment, let's rent the damn thing and be done with it."

Now it was my turn to sigh. I'd been looking for an apartment for senior year for about 3 weeks now. Carl, my roommate since my freshman days, was getting married and would be moving into married student housing when he returned in the fall.

I was sick to death of dorm life anyhow, so I'd decided to try to find a place of my own. My job as a billing processor at a local law firm didn't pay very much, but that, and the allowance my folks insisted on still sending me, would allow me to afford a small efficiency somewhere.

The problem was that most of the housing around Ann Arbor was set up for multiple roommates and I just didn't see me going that route. Frankly, I never liked living with a bunch of guys. I longed to have some space of my own, but the apartments I could afford were either snapped up before I could see them or were sties a pig wouldn't live in.

That morning I finally seemed to have gotten a break. A friend called and said a girl who lived in his complex in Ypsilanti was breaking her lease because she'd decided to move in with her boyfriend and would I be interested. Hell yes, I was interested.

I was supposed to meet Joe at the library so I swung around and picked him up and told him there'd been a change in plans. He'd been hearing me bitch for weeks about finding a place so he knew I'd have to jump on it if I wanted to seal this deal. He went with me to the complex only to experience first hand what I'd been putting up with since I'd started apartment shopping.

She was really sorry, the pretty young thing behind the desk said as she batted her eyes at Joe, but the apartment was already spoken for. Joe batted back and asked if she didn't have anything we could look at.

I knew what she wanted to show him. But instead, she pulled up a screen on a computer and grabbed a key out of drawer and said to follow her.
She took us to a corner apartment on the top floor of one of the newer buildings. When we walked through the door, I immediately knew this was way out of my price range. The living room was big and modern, all angles with a cathedral ceiling and a skylight. There was a fireplace in the corner and a wet bar on the wall and it looked like a Hollywood movie set. I stopped and started to say something but Joe was behind me and he pushed me forward into the room.

"Wow," he whistled softly. "This is great."

The girl, smiled at Joe and told him her name was Kelly. She chattered on about space and light and said the bedrooms were on the right. She walked down a hall and Joe followed.

"What are we doing?" I hissed in his ear as I caught up to him. "I wouldn't be able to pay for this if I had six roommates."

"It doesn't cost to look does it?" He smiled and shrugged and went into a bedroom that was as big as my parents whole upstairs.

I'm not sure when I caught on to what he was thinking. Maybe it was when his eyes lit up at the sight of the Jacuzzi, or when he asked Kelly about the possibility of garage space, but before we'd even gotten to the kitchen with its JennAir stove and built in trash compactor I'd figured out what was on his mind.

We walked back to the office. At the door I asked Kelly if she minded if Joe and I talked alone for a minute. She giggled and shrugged her shoulders and said she'd be waiting and left us. I turned to Joe and saw he was grinning. My heart sank.

"No," I looked at him sternly.
"Yes," he said, still smiling.

"You already have a place to live next year," I continued.

"I'm tired of the frat house," he protested.

"You love the frat house," which I knew to be true. The boy was as gregarious as they come. "And anyway, I couldn't pay my share."

In my innocence I really believed that would end the discussion.

"So pay what you can." He shrugged. "I'll make up the difference."

It didn't surprise me that he could make the gesture. Joe was a TFB, or trust fund baby if you need it spelled out. Yeah, not only was he handsome, smart and athletic; he was also rich. But he wasn't very comfortable about it.

I'd only learned about it myself because I'd inadvertently heard him on a call to his stockbroker and realized he wasn't just talking about 5 shares of AT&T like my granddad left me. When I'd point blank asked him if he was wealthy, he'd nodded reluctantly, but asked me to keep it to myself. He'd apparently had enough of people who only liked him for his money so he kept quiet about it and let everybody think his family was just 'comfortable'.

It wasn't really difficult to pull off. The rest of his family was just as unostentatious about their money as he was. I'd seen a picture of his family home and, although it was fairly large, it looked more like a big farmhouse than an estate. Too, whenever his parents made it to Ann Arbor they arrived in an older model Volvo station wagon so, nobody had tumbled to his little deception except yours truly.

But the money was definitely there, and now it looked like Joe had decided to spend some of it. His only problem was that I wasn't going along with the plan.

"Can't let you do that Dude," I shook my head.
"No way you can stop me Bro," he grinned and went into the office. I stayed on the sidewalk and seethed.

It wasn't that I was entirely opposed to Joe as a roommate. In fact if I was honest about it, he was the only person I knew that I'd even consider moving in with. But even as the thought entered my head, I knew it would never work.

After that first Thanksgiving at school, we had remained friends. He'd continued to visit at the hospital and, when I was released, he'd drop down the hall to see me and get away as he said, from the assholes, his pet name for the huge circle of friends who always seemed to congregate in his room. I was not part of that circle. It was an unspoken understanding between us that I did not intrude on that part of his life.

I know, that sounds like Joe was the biggest asshole of them all. But you have to understand this was just as much my choice as his. And my reasons were far more selfish. Simply put, I liked having Joe's undivided attention when we were together.

So even though at first, he'd politely tried to include me in get-togethers with his friends, we'd settled into a routine that pretty much kept our relationship exclusive, if limited. We would meet for a beer maybe once a week, in my room if Carl was out, or down at one of the local watering holes otherwise. And every Sunday afternoon we'd head to the library to study and shoot the shit with the emphasis on the shit part.

As for the fallout I'd expected from our being friends well, it just never happened. Amazing isn't it. Just when you think you've come to grips with the inequities of life, something nice happens. I'd been prepared for sneers, fights, at the very least an innuendo or two, but it never came. Instead of insults, the only response I ever got from one of his friends was an occasional clap on the back and a 'Hi Mike, how's it going dude?' Really took the wind out of my sails, I can tell you.

My Mom did actually meet him on her next visit to campus the spring of my freshman year. Like every other woman who knew him, she was utterly charmed by his boyish smile and kind eyes. He hit it off with my Dad too, and arranged for him to play a round of golf with Beau, something he still talks about to this day.

My brothers, of course, idolized him. Especially, after he took a Saturday afternoon to show them around the stadium including a trip to the team's lockers and training rooms. When he gave each of them a team football complete with autographs they were speechless for almost 15 minutes and forgot to keep up their constant bickering.

Even Sarah forgot her Ms Cool act around Joe and she giggled and chattered with an unconscious delight nobody had seen in her since she hit puberty. To this day, she has a framed picture I took of the two of them, by her bed. They're in front of our dorm, their arms wrapped around each other as they stick out their tongues at the camera. At the bottom is Joe's autograph and the picture is addressed, 'To Sarah, the little sister I always dreamed of having, Joe'.

I met his folks too, on several occasions. They would take us to dinner and his father, Bill, an older, darker version of his son, would argue about politics, telling us our liberal views would fade with time and success. Joe's mother, Alice, would roll her eyes and take our side and tease her husband until we would all be laughing so hard the other diners would stare.

Things would only get serious again when the talk came around to Josh, Joe's brother. Then Bill's face would turn somber and he'd sit there silently while Alice showed Joe his brother's letters and the pictures he would sometimes send home.

Bill didn't like it that his son was to be a priest. Joe told me when Josh had announced his decision his father had gone into a rage. When Josh had tried to make him understand that he felt God needed him, Bill's response was that he needed him too.

Bill and Alice had always planned on a big family but an ectopic pregnancy had ended those hopes and almost ended Alice's life. Bill had accepted that, but he'd only postponed the need for family.

Now it was grandchildren he craved and Josh's choice of vocation had cut his chances in half. He had struggled to come to terms with his loss and his love for his son had allowed him to do so. But he would never be able to actually take pleasure in his son's choice.

As for Josh, I never met him when we were in college. The seminary he'd picked was strict and his vacations were short and limited to brief visits to Chicago. Occasionally Joe would read me a passage out of his letters or tell me stories of them when they were kids. I only knew Josh as a rumor. A boy with the face of my friend, but a soul and an identity I couldn't begin to imagine.

But not so Joe; as the years passed, we forged a bond that would be necessary later when events would take us to the extraordinary places we'd never imagined would be our fate. I think of those first three years of our friendship as the foundation of our lives. It is thick and tough and built of words and ideas that solidified into the basis of the men we are today.

We talked about everything, covered every topic imaginable, politics, religion, the validity of big time wrestling, nothing was off limits. Well, almost nothing.

We never talked about sex. Which is amazing when you remember that we were in our late teens, early twenties, a time in life when the normal male conversation always ends up being about sex. How you liked it, where you found it, when you'd had it last, when you were going to get some more...

With Joe and I, the subject was strictly off limits. When he was still dating Betsy he'd occasionally mention her name, but Betsy, like Jenny, was now ancient history. She'd graduated our sophomore year and had moved to San Francisco to experience the whole, big city lifestyle.

But even when she was there, I didn't get involved. I saw her once in a while, on campus or around town, sometimes with Joe, sometimes not. We'd wave or make nice for a few minutes but we never recaptured the intimacy we'd known in the hospital. When she left, I thought Joe would want to talk about it, but he never offered and I never asked.

He didn't seem very broken up over it though. We only had a couple more weeks to go before the end of the semester and he seemed to enjoy his new found, freedom, celebrating with a never ending round of parties and plenty of flirting, though no one replaced Betsy as far as I could tell.

He started dating seriously again when we returned for our junior year. Joe wasn't the kind of guy who was comfortable without a girlfriend. I couldn't help but be aware of it. Shit, there was always some girl hanging all over him, and always a few more waiting in the wings playing understudy.

I'd see him with somebody at a game or at some bar afterwards and we'd acknowledge each other with a nod or maybe meet while fetching drinks. But he never introduced me, never slipped their names into a conversation, never bitched about girl problems in our weekly bull sessions.

As for me, I have to admit I was conducting my own sexual adventures. Joe had told me that Ann Arbor was a wide-open town; he had no idea how right he was. From leather to lace, gay is an established, and for the most part, accepted lifestyle in that educational Mecca. Now I fully admit, I'm a strictly vanilla kind of guy, even then. But I was young, far away from home and the disapproving eyes of my parents and very, very available.

What you expect me to say for Christ's sake! That I sat in my room every night and pined for the straight guy? Not a chance. Okay, so I loved the guy. So what. He was straight; I was gay, end of discussion.

Even in high school, I'd always thought it was stupid when a group of my gay friends would get together and start yaking about how hot some hetero was and how wonderful it would be if they could get him into bed. My contention had always been that if we were so vocal about people needing to accept us for what we were, then how could we turn around and talk about forcing our choices on somebody else.

Ironic as shit isn't it? Hoisted on my own petard, whatever the Hell that means.

So, I put my feelings for Joe into a box and shoved it to the back of my mind. I tried to never take it out except sometimes, in the dark, late at night, when my hand would reach for my cock and my fingers would curl around the wood. I'd remember and I'd imagine that it was another hand that stroked me and I'd groan silently and whisper his name and I would cum.

In the morning, I would shove the box and it's temptations away again and I would go on with the life that was reality, not wishful thinking. And when I would see Joe, I would clap him on the back and call him dude and never, not for a moment, did I ever let on that my knees had turned to water and my heart was doing somersaults while my lungs filled with the aroma that was his alone.

At first I thought I would go crazy from the deception. But as the days turned into weeks, I would take the box out less and less and my knees began to stiffen and my heartbeat slowed and one day I realized it had been months since I'd thought of Joe as anything but a friend. I was relieved but curiously empty too.

Such is the perversity of the human condition. The drive to love, to connect, is so strong that any attraction, no matter how hopeless, fills us. I had crushed my sexual love for Joe, but I hadn't found anyone to replace him.