tagGay MaleTwo Chances

Two Chances

byshabbu©

My car came to a stop below the front of the house and I just sat there. It had been a long day and I was tired and not ready for the chaos I would find inside. Instead I sat there in the car and lay my head back on the headrest and closed my eyes for five minutes of peace.

A year ago I would have been hurrying inside, however hard my day had been. But a year ago Nick would have been there, already home or on his way. Now my house, our dream house, sometimes seemed more like a burden than a place to escape the worries of the world. Four dogs and both halves of the mortgage had a lot to do with it, but mostly it was the loss of Nick. The man I had shared my life with.

I sighed and forced myself to get out of the car. Unloaded the shopping from the boot and opening the gate I climbed the steep path to the back door. The dogs exploded to greet me and I wondered briefly why I hadn't come straight up.

Basically because I was tired and the next day was more of the same.

I dumped the shopping in the kitchen next to the fridge and filled a glass with water and drank it as I looked about. The last time I had been well fucked had been on the kitchen bench, over twelve months before. Me wrapping my legs around Nick's waist as he pumped his thick cock up my ass in long deep strokes and I moaned and urged him on, harder and deeper. Even thinking about it now after everything that had happened since made my dick twitch. And if I hadn't been so tired I might have done something about it, but then again if I remembered Nick and his fucking too well I usually started to remember the rest.

Things happen. Nick had been working on some big advertising programme that took him to Sri Lanka a couple of times close together. Then he began talking about open relationships, we started using condoms and he went back to deal with some "unfinished business." And in between I was left with keeping the business we had gone into together going on my own.

A week later he called me from Colombo, and after an emotional conversation, I said no, he wasn't moving his new friend into our house. And eight years of being as good as married, which I had thought was perfect, was over.

I went and cried on Andrew's shoulder, and he reminded me of the clauses he had added to our business agreement, though I hadn't thought they were necessary, and the other agreement he had drawn up for us when we had built the dream house together. I had said all that mattered was that I was shattered and Nick didn't love me any more.

Two months later when Nick had managed to get him into the country, I had been introduced to Sardi and was told I wasn't needed any more and that Sardi was taking over training Cute as Nails staff from me. I had been shocked totally but also able to say to Nick. Hold on. You can't sack me, this is my business as well as yours. He had been fuming, but his lawyer must have been happy with what Andrew had added. Nick had to buy me out or I was a business partner with a guaranteed job for ever. And Cute as Nails had taken off. We had franchises in all major east coast cities now. Cute as Nails was too good for Nick to walk away from, but it was still new and too hard to borrow the money to buy each other out as I found out. Now I had an idea Nick hoped I would eventually walk away from it.

So there we were, stuck. Sardi pouted, and I had as little to do with the two of them as was possible in the circumstances.

Sardi, I had discovered when we met, was twenty, had big round black eyes the size of saucers and eyelashes so thick and long a drag queen would kill for them. Add that to perfect deep-golden skin, a lithe but muscular body, and a way of moving his ass that invited exploration, and I could see what Nick liked about him.

I wasn't bad but I was thirty-two, looked like I worked twelve hour days, and Nick had explored my ass so often I figured it didn't hold any surprises for him any more. But I doubted Sardi would be any good at training Cute as Nails staff; for one thing he didn't like dogs.

Nick handled the advertising and signing up of franchisees, as well as still keeping in with the advertising agency he had been working for when we had first met. Nowadays he seemed to spend most of his time having coffee and driving around in his BMW with Sardi beside him. Meanwhile, I had both halves of the house, and the four dogs he used to call his kids but had happily left behind for an apartment in town and Sardi.

Nick was a natural salesman. Our business would not have existed without him I knew. He was worth his share.

As I was putting the shopping away and fending off excited pets, the phone rang.

"Dinner," Andrew said, "This Friday, at my place. OK? 7.30."

"OK," I replied, too tired to chat.

The call was unexpected and I wondered what the occasion was.

Andrew was my friend from long ago. He was a solicitor and a good one. Nick had never really taken to him and certainly didn't like him now. That business of the small additions Andrew had added to the complicated business agreement we had both signed when we started franchising Cute as Nails, the dog clipping, dying, and styling centre that also painted their nails, had seen to that.

I arrived late for dinner, hardly surprising after the day I had had, and a quick trip home to feed the four "kids" there and change.

I made my apologies and felt a bit out of place. I was the twelfth guest, and the others, including Andrew and his partner, George, were smartly dressed and all looked fresh. I still had some dog hair in my crotch that was itching, and I had thrown on something casual. I had assumed it would be the small private dinner we sometimes had together, just the three of us. Occasionally another couple or Andrew's sister.

But it wasn't. On one side I was sitting next to a guy who looked like a male model, and I discovered had been one, but had given it up. I had no idea why. Maybe the hours didn't suit him. On the other was another guy, an American, who looked like he could have been a male model, but apparently hadn't been. The hours hadn't suited him he said. He had a sense of humour. He said "gotten" a lot.

Hum. I tried not to scratch my crotch. I wished I had stayed at home. I went to the bathroom and dropped my pants and briefs and got a flannel and rubbed and washed my crotch. As I was in the middle of scrubbing the bathroom door banged me and someone stuck his head in.

"I'll be out soon," I told him, embarrassed.

"Sorry," the American said, as I pushed the door closed.

It was not my night. I took a deep breath and hoped I had at least got rid of the itching hair. Then I dried myself and did my best to improve my appearance in the bathroom mirror. There was some improvement and the itch seemed to have gone, and fortunately I wasn't there to impress anyone.

I returned to the table and tried to make intelligent small talk with a bunch of merchant bankers and lawyers. They talked a lot of business talk, and I didn't mind as I was tired and the food and wine were very good and it was nice to be able to eat someone else's cooking and relax over it for a change. But when I tried to stand up at the end of the evening, I found I was woozy. Not drunk, but definitely not sober either. I knew I shouldn't be driving, and as there was no way I could afford to lose my license, I asked Andrew to call me a taxi.

But he spoke to Brad, the American, "Can you drop Tim off? He's on your way." Andrew said.

"Sure," replied Brad.

And in a few minutes we were off. I went to sleep in Brad's hotel car it was so comfortable, and before I knew it Brad was squeezing my thigh to wake me up. We were nearly there and he needed directions.

I apologised, he said, "Don't worry about it. You look cute sleeping. I wouldn't have wakened you, but I'm afraid the hotel car driver has gotten lost."

I thought "Oh no." But his hand sat on my thigh, and I was warm and relaxed and it was having an effect.

"Coffee?' I mumbled when we arrived.

"Sure," he said and hopped out and stood up close behind me his hands around me and resting on my belly as I tried to find the key to open the front door. Then one hand slipped down and as I finally found the key, he had my cock cupped in his hand through my pants. And his was hard and pressing at my ass.

I had closed the front door before he was undoing my pants. I had never liked casual sex, but after twelve months, a good dinner, too much wine, and the feel of his erection pressed against me, I was unzipping him too and pulling out what he had on offer, which was quite something to behold. I dropped to my knees and began running my tongue and lips over his cap and his stiffening length, stroking the veins, licking his balls then swallowing him and gulping on his size as he fucked into my mouth.

Then he pulled me up and we were kissing and I was ready and wanting. I kicked off my pants and briefs, and he pushed me into the living room, and my butt landed on the high table behind the sofa. Linking a hand behind his neck, I leant back and he helped me lift my legs and spread my thighs wide, digging my heels into the table. His hand emerged with a sachet of lube and a condom, and I stroked his cock with my other hand as he took the lube and fingered it to my ass.

I watched his fingers slip into me. First one, my ass tight and resisting for a moment; then two, two thick fingers turning inside me stroking. I was immediately grunting and dripping. It had been a long time, and he had a great body and a great cock and a model's face as well as those fingers sending me wild. Then we were kissing and I was yelping as he added another finger, and twisted and spread them inside me. I was already moaning, my ass hungry for his long piece. He released my mouth and removed his fingers, and I guided his big cap to my rim and stroked it over myself, I came up my belly just watching. He had pushed up my T-shirt and was pinching my nipples, making me shiver as I guided his cock, and he fed himself inside me.

It had been a long time since I had watched something disappear inside my hole, and my channel knew it. I whimpered with pain as he dug deeper, not giving me enough time to adjust. But I didn't want him to stop, and I was pushing my ass to him, hungry for him to fill me. He bottomed and I felt I'd split but wanted it all, I gasped and lifted my head for a kiss, holding him inside. He pulled out slowly and I moaned and tried to pull him back in. But when he started to pump me I cried out and lay back and pulled my legs back and widened myself. The pumping had me moaning and arching, but finished too quickly. But if it had lasted half the night it would have finished too quickly. Brad filled the condom inside me and then fell on me and we kissed again. And then he took me again, this time more slowly and tenderly.

The wine was suddenly wearing off, and I was wondering what this guy I didn't know and had nothing in common with, who could have been a male model, was doing fucking me. I couldn't deny I had enjoyed it, but now I was dead tired and groaned at the thought that I had to drive 400 kilometres the next day to train some new franchisee.

I sat up and kissed him again, grateful for the great fuck. I doubted it was any more for him than some recompense for giving me a lift home. Within ten minutes of coming inside me the second time he was gone. I'd forgotten all about the coffee I had offered him.

Twenty minutes later I was out like a light and dead to the world.

On Sunday I answered the phone to an American voice and it took a minute for me to realise who it was. I was embarrassed. I apologised. He asked me what I was up to, said he was horny, asked if I wanted to get together, his hotel or my place. If I hadn't been dead on my feet I might have said yes. If he had stayed for coffee after, maybe I'd have said yes. If he'd stayed and fucked me all night, I'd definitely have said yes.

"Um. Brad, sorry, no. I'm dead . busy week. And, the other night, that's not me. It was great, it's been a long time. But I have loads to do and . . sorry."

"Maybe some other time then," he replied, not sounding particularly disappointed.

"Yes, maybe. Thanks for the invite." I said, and hung up.

Right away part of me regretted saying no. But I had never been one for casual sex. I needed some sort of relationship. I needed talk and other stuff. Nick and I had had that for a long time and I didn't want to settle for less. I wasn't ready to yet, anyway. Maybe in a couple more years I would be glad for any offer. But not yet.

* * *

I wasn't sure whether I had gotten it wrong or if Andrew had said it wrong, but I had gone to his dinner party that Friday because he'd said that Nick's "significant other" would be there without Nick. Andrew was the Sydney lawyer for the American firm my dad owned, and he had fallen all over himself to see that I was entertained while I was "down under" on business. I'd fucked him in my hotel room after welcome drinks the first night I'd arrived, and that was nice enough, but I was always on the lookout for fresh meat—and these Aussie studs gave me a rush. I'd let Andrew know I'd be happy to meet any of his friends with a nice bod and tight ass and that funny accent Aussie men had.

Andrew told me there would be a male model who did some work for his clients at the party who I might fancy. Then he said he'd also invited Nick Holiday's erstwhile squeeze to the party because he was having difficulty adjusting to their breakup. Nick had been my conquest on the second night after I'd gotten to Sydney. I'd met him at a club, the Arq in Taylor Square, that Andrew had recommended. When I'd gotten my driver to give Nick a lift the morning after I'd plowed him all night, I'd met Nick's boyfriend, the luscious Sri Lankan Sardi, at one of their dog grooming shops and had gotten the idea I'd definitely want to fuck him if he hadn't already been taken. And now he apparently was no longer taken, and I was in heat and intended to fuck someone that night. So, I accepted Andrew's invitation and assumed I'd be able to hook up with this Sardi guy at his house.

But then, everyone had gotten to the dinner party who was coming—all of the places at the table were filled—and there was no Sardi. And there I was with a raging hard on already that I needed to relieve. The Australian model—although it turned out he no longer was a model—was OK looking. In fact Andrew said that he and I made a great looking pair—but he didn't have much between his ears, which was borne out by the vacant stare he carried through dinner—I'd always thought it didn't take many brains to be a model, and here I was being offered a guy who didn't even have enough brains to be a model. And when I had gotten a feel in passing before we got to the table, it seemed he didn't have much between the legs either. The prospects for the night weren't looking good at all.

The last guy to arrive seemed a little flustered and sad and withdrawn, although he looked well turned out to me. He was the only one at the party who hadn't gotten himself dressed up like a monkey, and the casual clothes looked good on him. I was surprised when Andrew signaled to me when he was introducing us that this was the former boyfriend of Nick he was telling me about, because he certainly didn't look Sri Lankan to me. I was left thinking that Nick went through a lot of boyfriends.

The guy left the table before the rest of us were finished. He'd been real quiet during the meal, and I assumed he was just another of those dumb ones, like the former male model. I began planning my getaway so I could return to the Arq and pick up a lay for the night. I excused myself from the table to take a piss before I'd make a graceful escape. The door to the john was almost closed, but not quite. I just pushed it open, and the door was banging against this shy guy, Nick's former boyfriend, who Andrew had introduced to me as Tim.

He had gotten a wash cloth from somewhere and was dabbing at his crotch and he had a really nice dong hanging out. This guy suddenly was looking a lot better to me. It would take me a while to get set up with someone from the Arc, and my balls were aching for a quick fuck. I decided to hang around for a bit in case I could maneuver myself between this dude's legs and save myself a trip to the club.

Andrew must have gotten a read on my mind, because when the party was breaking up, he said Tim had gotten a little tipsy and would I mind giving him a lift back to his house, which was on the way to my hotel. My mind was screaming "Bingo," as I bundled him into the hotel car and had him give the driver directions.

This Tim was a real innocent, and I lusted after him the whole trip back to his place. Once we were under way, he just leaned his head back in the seat and went to sleep. I had visions of taking him hard right there, but I decided not to give the hotel driver a show. When we had gotten close to the area where he lived, I had to squeeze him on his thigh to wake him up to provide specific directions. His thigh was nice and firm. I wanted to fuck him now. But he seemed so sweet and distracted that I doubted I'd get the good ride I'd get out of some cruising dude I picked up at the club. I'd have the driver wait. I'd just do a quick plowing and then maybe hit the club for a better prospect for a wild night.

Tim apologized to me for going to sleep, and I decided to take the direct route, to let him know what I wanted. "Don't worry about it," I said. "You look cute sleeping. I wouldn't have wakened you, but I'm afraid the hotel car driver has gotten lost." And I kept my hand there on his thigh.

The look he gave me started off as a panicked expression, but then he sighed and his eyes went calm.

"Coffee?' he mumbled when we arrived.

"Sure," I answered. I told the hotel driver just to wait. That was fine with him. He was being paid by the hour, I'd given him a big tip already, and waiting was less hassle than taking short drives from the hotel all night.

But I wasn't going to be all night at this. This was going to be a quickie. I let Tim know exactly what I wanted and expected as he fumbled around finding his key and with getting the door open. I stood up close behind him with an arm around him and one of my palms resting on his belly. And as he finally found the key, I had gotten his cock cupped in my hand through his pants. I pressed up close behind him and let him feel the urgency between my legs. I was horse hung and wanted him to know that.

We fumbled letting our cocks free just inside the door against the wall, and I forced him to his knees and my cock into his mouth. He gave good head and had gotten me hard in no time as I fucked his mouth. Just a quick fuck and then to the club and forget this dude.

I pulled him up and we were kissing. I could tell he wanted me now. He was giving me little moans and was whimpering like he had been in heat just like I was. I figured he was still mooning over that Nick guy. But I had fucked that Nick, and I had a better cock for this guy than Nick had. Just a quick fuck and I'd leave him whimpering my name instead of Nick's.

He kicked off his pants and briefs, and I pushed him into the living room and down onto a high table behind the sofa. He linked a hand behind my neck, and he lifted his legs with my help, spreading his thighs wide. I retrieved the lube and a condom—I always come prepared—and he stroked my cock as I lubed him. And then I gave him the fingers-in-the-ass treatment. Then we were kissing and he was yelping at my fingering, giving me more pleasure than I had thought I'd get from this fuck. I extracted my fingers and brought the head of my cock to his hole. He was fully into the fuck now. He took my cock himself and stroked it over and around his rim. And then he held it and guided it as I fed my cock into him.

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