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Fiction-
Sometimes it was hard to resist him. At first it was purely sexual. His body, his cologne, his voice, his mannerisms; all drove me crazy. He was ten years younger than me which put him at 18. He was slim and toned. His waist tiny, his butt round. His image burnt into my mind and would flash before my eyes when I was with my own boyfriend. He was all the things I am not interested in... I generally like my men to be my age or a little older, clean cut, big and brawny... he sported a rocker haircut and scruff.
What was worse was that he was dating my cousin; a female cousin. Sometimes I wondered if they knew how much I was attracted to him. The way he'd bend over, all the way over, to pick something up in front of me. Or the way he would stretch and lift his shirt in front of me, giving me a peek at his hairy 6 pack. He was also very gay friendly and would talk to me about guys from an 'objective point of view'.
I am ashamed to say that I was relieved in a sense when they broke up. My constant nagging guilt over my attraction to him could finally pass. Although we were very friendly while he was seeing my cousin, we were not so close that he'd be around not that they were broken up. I could forget him, eventually.
With time, I thought of him less and less. His dark complexion and deep brown eyes started to fade from memory and I forgot how trim he really was. I no longer saw him face down in my bed when I was making love to my boyfriend (who may have looked similar from behind).
Over the next two years many changes occurred in my life. My boyfriend and I broke up, my cousin came out as lesbian, and I moved to Winnipeg. I started fresh and bought a stone building duplex off a busy intersection. I rented out the downstairs to a charming older gay couple and occasionally found myself jealous at the sounds I heard coming from downstairs at night. I lived alone, but happy. I was content with the direction my life was headed.
One afternoon, while I was putting the finishes touches on some paperwork, my phone rang. I checked the caller ID and answered when I saw it was my cousin, "Hello," I greeted, "I haven't heard from you in a long time. What's up?"
She took a long drag off a cigarette before sighing into the phone, "Max, I have a favor I need to ask," she sounded annoyed to have to ask for help. She seldom ever asked for assistance her whole life.
"Anything I can do, I will," I answered , curious to see what she needed.
She took another long puff and breathed heavily into the phone, "I hate to ask this... but you remember Richard?"
My heart skipped a beat as I suddenly remembered how he wore his hair over one eye, and as he spoke to me it was as though he was behind a curtain- tempting me to take a closer peek. "Yeah. Your last boyfriend?"
She chuckled, "Don't even remind me. Anyway, he got a job in Winnipeg and needs a place to stay until he gets settled. I could send you some money if it's a hassle."
I paused, panicked, reflected... "He wants to stay with me?"
Another gap in conversation as she smoked on her end, "I told him that you live out there now and he sort of hinted that I ask."
"I didn't know you guys still spoke?" I half stated.
"Mutual friends and all that. We actually see each other quite a bit."
I quickly glanced around my one bedroom apartment, there wasn't enough space for just me. If Richard were to stay, it'd be close quarters. "There isn't a lot of room. He'd have to stay on the couch. And I don't have any space for more than a few gym bags of luggage."
"That'll be great, Max. Thanks for helping me out. Do you want me to send money or something?"
I shrugged, "No, there shouldn't be any need that." I still looked around, trying to imagine how I could make this work for even a week. Close quarters indeed.
We got off the phone and I almost immediately found myself daydreaming about him again, like I did two years ago. Seeing his waistband on his boxers as he put his arms over his head and arched his back for a pre-jog stretch. How round his ass looked when he laid on his belly, propping up on his elbows to watch tv. I went to my bedroom and lay on my bed, and relieved my sudden sexual frustration.
A few days later, rather unexpectedly, while I was preparing some tacos in my open concept kitchen, a knock sounded at my apartment door. I recognized the knock, surprisingly. It was Richard, he always knocked to the rhythm of "Paint it Black" by the Rolling Stones. I smiled as I opened the door.
"Hey Max! Thank you for letting me crash!" he dropped his two bags at his sides and opened his arms for a hug, "I missed you buddy! How are you?"
Though excited to give him a hug, I made it a quick one as to keep hidden my attraction. "I'm good! How are you?"
He still looked as sexy as ever, albeit a little different. He was still quite a bit shorter than myself, but still slim-waisted and lean. He chest was bigger and his arms a little more hairy. He had cut his hair and tamed his scruff into a handsome chinstrap. I could feel the blood leaving my face and going elsewhere.
We sat down, exchanged customary greetings and small talk over tacos and Spanish rice. He was full of excitement and joy, it was contagious. He told me about his new job, some sort of tech position with a popular website. He updated me on the hometown. Then he asked if I was seeing a new guy yet or not.
As we talked, my eyes kept drifting to his snug tee shirt, the broad chest that lay beneath. I remembered his chesthair, not too thick, but not patchy. I always wanted to graze his chest with a hand- just once and I think I could be satisfied. I wanted to get up, off my stool, walk up behind him and casually just take his shirt off, toss it on the floor and hold onto him. I didn't. I just sat and listened.
It was Tuesday night, so we didn't go out. I put some sheets out on the sofa and made a makeshift bed for my guest. As I did it, I imagined him laying on those sheets, wearing nothing but those same little purple boxer briefs I saw him wear two years ago. His skin wrapped in only the white sheet I supplied. Maybe he slept face down, his cute little ass sticking up in the air... waiting for me. I sighed and motioned to the sofa. "It's not much, I'm sorry,"
He smile graciously and accepted. "It's great. Don't worry about it." He quickly flung his shirt off over his head and sprang down onto the sofa. He put his hands behind his head and looked up at me, "Snug as a bug, thanks."
I turned on one heel, said good night, and went to bed- scared that my erection might start to show. He made me feel awkward. It was difficult to be around him. He made me feel like I was in middle school again, totally ashamed to be having these thoughts and behaviors. He didn't mean to do this to me, or at least I was sure he didn't. But just like in middle school, I went to my room with a fresh mental image of a hot (almost attainable guy) and took care of myself.
The next morning was no better, in fact it was worse. I woke up to the smell of coffee, pleasant enough. I got out of bed and opened my bedroom door. Richard was sitting on one my kitchen stools, dripping wet, wearing only a towel. Water trickled down his inviting chest, over his tight belly, and almost swayed back and forth as it rolled down his half exposed legs. My shower was cold.
Living with Richard was tough. He was an amazing guy; sweet, funny, accepting, attractive, and not ashamed of his body. But to be so close to a guy and still so far was torture. I would find myself scheming ways to see him totally naked, or to steal a kiss while he was sleeping. I instantly felt guilty every time such thoughts passed through me. I couldn't live him much longer.
I'll continue later...
Sometimes it was hard to resist him. At first it was purely sexual. His body, his cologne, his voice, his mannerisms; all drove me crazy. He was ten years younger than me which put him at 18. He was slim and toned. His waist tiny, his butt round. His image burnt into my mind and would flash before my eyes when I was with my own boyfriend. He was all the things I am not interested in... I generally like my men to be my age or a little older, clean cut, big and brawny... he sported a rocker haircut and scruff.
What was worse was that he was dating my cousin; a female cousin. Sometimes I wondered if they knew how much I was attracted to him. The way he'd bend over, all the way over, to pick something up in front of me. Or the way he would stretch and lift his shirt in front of me, giving me a peek at his hairy 6 pack. He was also very gay friendly and would talk to me about guys from an 'objective point of view'.
I am ashamed to say that I was relieved in a sense when they broke up. My constant nagging guilt over my attraction to him could finally pass. Although we were very friendly while he was seeing my cousin, we were not so close that he'd be around not that they were broken up. I could forget him, eventually.
With time, I thought of him less and less. His dark complexion and deep brown eyes started to fade from memory and I forgot how trim he really was. I no longer saw him face down in my bed when I was making love to my boyfriend (who may have looked similar from behind).
Over the next two years many changes occurred in my life. My boyfriend and I broke up, my cousin came out as lesbian, and I moved to Winnipeg. I started fresh and bought a stone building duplex off a busy intersection. I rented out the downstairs to a charming older gay couple and occasionally found myself jealous at the sounds I heard coming from downstairs at night. I lived alone, but happy. I was content with the direction my life was headed.
One afternoon, while I was putting the finishes touches on some paperwork, my phone rang. I checked the caller ID and answered when I saw it was my cousin, "Hello," I greeted, "I haven't heard from you in a long time. What's up?"
She took a long drag off a cigarette before sighing into the phone, "Max, I have a favor I need to ask," she sounded annoyed to have to ask for help. She seldom ever asked for assistance her whole life.
"Anything I can do, I will," I answered , curious to see what she needed.
She took another long puff and breathed heavily into the phone, "I hate to ask this... but you remember Richard?"
My heart skipped a beat as I suddenly remembered how he wore his hair over one eye, and as he spoke to me it was as though he was behind a curtain- tempting me to take a closer peek. "Yeah. Your last boyfriend?"
She chuckled, "Don't even remind me. Anyway, he got a job in Winnipeg and needs a place to stay until he gets settled. I could send you some money if it's a hassle."
I paused, panicked, reflected... "He wants to stay with me?"
Another gap in conversation as she smoked on her end, "I told him that you live out there now and he sort of hinted that I ask."
"I didn't know you guys still spoke?" I half stated.
"Mutual friends and all that. We actually see each other quite a bit."
I quickly glanced around my one bedroom apartment, there wasn't enough space for just me. If Richard were to stay, it'd be close quarters. "There isn't a lot of room. He'd have to stay on the couch. And I don't have any space for more than a few gym bags of luggage."
"That'll be great, Max. Thanks for helping me out. Do you want me to send money or something?"
I shrugged, "No, there shouldn't be any need that." I still looked around, trying to imagine how I could make this work for even a week. Close quarters indeed.
We got off the phone and I almost immediately found myself daydreaming about him again, like I did two years ago. Seeing his waistband on his boxers as he put his arms over his head and arched his back for a pre-jog stretch. How round his ass looked when he laid on his belly, propping up on his elbows to watch tv. I went to my bedroom and lay on my bed, and relieved my sudden sexual frustration.
A few days later, rather unexpectedly, while I was preparing some tacos in my open concept kitchen, a knock sounded at my apartment door. I recognized the knock, surprisingly. It was Richard, he always knocked to the rhythm of "Paint it Black" by the Rolling Stones. I smiled as I opened the door.
"Hey Max! Thank you for letting me crash!" he dropped his two bags at his sides and opened his arms for a hug, "I missed you buddy! How are you?"
Though excited to give him a hug, I made it a quick one as to keep hidden my attraction. "I'm good! How are you?"
He still looked as sexy as ever, albeit a little different. He was still quite a bit shorter than myself, but still slim-waisted and lean. He chest was bigger and his arms a little more hairy. He had cut his hair and tamed his scruff into a handsome chinstrap. I could feel the blood leaving my face and going elsewhere.
We sat down, exchanged customary greetings and small talk over tacos and Spanish rice. He was full of excitement and joy, it was contagious. He told me about his new job, some sort of tech position with a popular website. He updated me on the hometown. Then he asked if I was seeing a new guy yet or not.
As we talked, my eyes kept drifting to his snug tee shirt, the broad chest that lay beneath. I remembered his chesthair, not too thick, but not patchy. I always wanted to graze his chest with a hand- just once and I think I could be satisfied. I wanted to get up, off my stool, walk up behind him and casually just take his shirt off, toss it on the floor and hold onto him. I didn't. I just sat and listened.
It was Tuesday night, so we didn't go out. I put some sheets out on the sofa and made a makeshift bed for my guest. As I did it, I imagined him laying on those sheets, wearing nothing but those same little purple boxer briefs I saw him wear two years ago. His skin wrapped in only the white sheet I supplied. Maybe he slept face down, his cute little ass sticking up in the air... waiting for me. I sighed and motioned to the sofa. "It's not much, I'm sorry,"
He smile graciously and accepted. "It's great. Don't worry about it." He quickly flung his shirt off over his head and sprang down onto the sofa. He put his hands behind his head and looked up at me, "Snug as a bug, thanks."
I turned on one heel, said good night, and went to bed- scared that my erection might start to show. He made me feel awkward. It was difficult to be around him. He made me feel like I was in middle school again, totally ashamed to be having these thoughts and behaviors. He didn't mean to do this to me, or at least I was sure he didn't. But just like in middle school, I went to my room with a fresh mental image of a hot (almost attainable guy) and took care of myself.
The next morning was no better, in fact it was worse. I woke up to the smell of coffee, pleasant enough. I got out of bed and opened my bedroom door. Richard was sitting on one my kitchen stools, dripping wet, wearing only a towel. Water trickled down his inviting chest, over his tight belly, and almost swayed back and forth as it rolled down his half exposed legs. My shower was cold.
Living with Richard was tough. He was an amazing guy; sweet, funny, accepting, attractive, and not ashamed of his body. But to be so close to a guy and still so far was torture. I would find myself scheming ways to see him totally naked, or to steal a kiss while he was sleeping. I instantly felt guilty every time such thoughts passed through me. I couldn't live him much longer.
I'll continue later...
