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The Impotence of being Earnest.
- Thread starter jobbio
- Start date
Jobbio,
You're running strong. Last story you said you were worried about being able to concentrate long enough to build a full-sized chapter. This time, you wonder where all the words came from!
I guess that muse I told you would help you concentrate has kicked in, Big Time!
Ernie is an interesting choice of names for your protagonist -- it is purely coincidental, I'm sure, since your character and the one I'm thinking of are diametrically different.
The Ernie I'm thinking about is "Tommy's favourite Uncle Ernie, who liked to Fiddle About" in a certain Rock Opera about a Pin Ball Wizard from a generation ago -- by The Who. I still remember my GF needing to leave the theatre when we got to that scene - it was so disturbingly graphic.
Too bad, because the music really rocked, and the final ascension of Tommy was great.
Anyway, I digress. You're doing great. I'm looking forward to seeing Ernie find out that (appropriately haunting music) HE is who his best friend's lover has a crush on! (Or at least that's my guess, based on the evidence currently on offer.)
Can he be both the Best Man for his friend at the wedding, AND persona non-grata for being the object of his friend's lover's crush? Or, will they overcome this little dilemma via a menage a trois? Wouldn't THAT be a tasty little vignette?!
But, this is YOUR story, not mine. I only get to make guesses in public to see how well I did at interpretting - only you know what's coming, for sure.
If you hadn't guessed, I'm definitely looking forward to see how your next chapter evolves and where it takes us.
You're running strong. Last story you said you were worried about being able to concentrate long enough to build a full-sized chapter. This time, you wonder where all the words came from!
I guess that muse I told you would help you concentrate has kicked in, Big Time!
Ernie is an interesting choice of names for your protagonist -- it is purely coincidental, I'm sure, since your character and the one I'm thinking of are diametrically different.
The Ernie I'm thinking about is "Tommy's favourite Uncle Ernie, who liked to Fiddle About" in a certain Rock Opera about a Pin Ball Wizard from a generation ago -- by The Who. I still remember my GF needing to leave the theatre when we got to that scene - it was so disturbingly graphic.
Too bad, because the music really rocked, and the final ascension of Tommy was great.
Anyway, I digress. You're doing great. I'm looking forward to seeing Ernie find out that (appropriately haunting music) HE is who his best friend's lover has a crush on! (Or at least that's my guess, based on the evidence currently on offer.)
Can he be both the Best Man for his friend at the wedding, AND persona non-grata for being the object of his friend's lover's crush? Or, will they overcome this little dilemma via a menage a trois? Wouldn't THAT be a tasty little vignette?!
But, this is YOUR story, not mine. I only get to make guesses in public to see how well I did at interpretting - only you know what's coming, for sure.
If you hadn't guessed, I'm definitely looking forward to see how your next chapter evolves and where it takes us.
Apologies that it's taken me a while. Comments, suggestions, opinions and criticisms welcome, as always.
Chapter 5- Flops and tops.
“Fuck!” I thought as I was driving home, I’d meant to call the estate agents about the house I’d seen. It was now after 11am and thought I would have missed the idea time to call. I had the details with me, so I dialled the number anyway (after pulling over, of course- drive sensibly, kids!)
“Thank you for calling Arcadia Homes. I am sorry, there is no one in the office to take your call right now. Please leave a message or call back during our office hours; Monday to Friday, 9am ‘til 6pm.” The sexy sounding voicemail woman played.
I though I’d leave a voicemail to save having to call back, “My name is Ernie Carmichael and I’d like to arrange a viewing of the property on Blinco Avenue for this coming week.” I left my number to call back and hung up the phone. Another job out of the way- I decided not to bother calling for the other apartments until I’d seen the house, or been told it wasn’t available.
I had nothing else to do all day until the my date with Sandra in the evening so I headed back to Grant’s to see what he and Stephen were up to.
Grant was still in bed when I got in, and Stephen was dozing on the sofa looking an interesting shade of green.
“GOOD MORNING!!” I yelled. Stephen jumped.
“Don’t fucking do that!” he groaned. “My head is pounding and I’ve not stopped being sick all morning.”
I laughed.
“Fuck off, you prick!” he was obviously suffering. “Where have you been anyway?”
“To the gym.” I replied.
“How on earth did you manage that?”
“Hangover cure! Wait there, I’ll get you the stuff.”
I went to the kitchen and got the necessary bits, when I came back down half an hour later, after sorting some clothes for laundry, Stephen looked much better.
He smiled, “That’s a miracle concoction, I feel almost human again!”
“Good, I’m glad you’re ok. What are you up to today?”
“I was just thinking about going shopping, I could do with new clothes for tonight.”
“Are you going out again?”
“Hell no! Just a few friends of our friends are coming over. Shit! We didn’t tell you about it. You know you’re more than welcome.”
“It’s not an orgy is it?”
“No! You cheeky fucker, it’s not a damn orgy; just some guys coming over for movies and drinks. I’m guessing you’ll be joining us?”
“Actually, I won’t. I’ve got a date.” I said with a wry smile.
“Oooh! Get you, stud!” He teased.
“It’s not a big deal, just some chick from work.”
“Is she hot?”
“Hotter than you make me, that’s for sure!”
He smiled, “she must be hot then, cuz I know you want me.”
“You wish, Priss.”
“Whatever hetero. Spaghetti is straight until you get it wet.”
I rolled my eyes at him and laughed.
“I’m going to check on Grant,” he said, getting off the sofa, my eyes caught sight of an obvious boner in his boxerbriefs.
“Cool, cool! Do I need to make noise to cover any fucking?”
“I doubt it, he’s even worse than me!”
“Oh dear!”
And with that, he headed upstairs- adjusting the boner in his underwear. I thought nothing more of it; he probably just woke up with it. I heard it was common for most guys to wake up hard; not me, obviously, I’d not managed an erection for years- to say I was sexually frustrated was an understatement. It was probably why I found so many women attractive, I had all this pent-up lust but I hadn’t been hard or ejaculated in years- even alone, I couldn’t do it. It was beginning to piss me off, but this was the first time I’d really started to worry about it. Oh well, Sandra would sort it. I couldn’t wait to fuck her.
I spent the rest of the day doing not much. Grant didn’t surface until about 4pm- he looked worse than Stephen and I put together. I made a light meal for the three of us and Stephen gave me a hand- still chatting shit at each other and bickering like kids. It was odd that, although Grant was my the one I’d known longer, I often felt that I was closer to, and had more in common with, Stephen. We just clicked and it was fine.
I arrived to pick Sandra up at 8. In typical female fashion she answered the door and was ‘not quite ready.’ I skulked about in her hallway while she dried her hair and put the finishing touches to her outfit.
When she came down, ten minutes later, she looked absolutely fucking stunning. I was tempted to rip her clothes off there and then, but thought it could wait. We headed to the restaurant and had a great meal; there was something about her that put me at complete ease. There were no awkward silences or forced laughter; we chatted for hours and eventually left when the waiter told us that they really needed to close.
She invited me back to hers “for coffee” and of course I jumped at the chance. As I was driving home, her hand kept brushing my thigh- this was going to be a good night.
As soon as we got through her front door, I grabbed her hips; turned her round and started kissing her. She reciprocated and held me in close; I could feel her wonderful tits pressing against my chest.
I undid the zip on the back of her dress and she playfully bit my neck. She stepped out of her dress and stood there in her black underwear, looking fucking amazing. Then, she grabbed my hand and led me upstairs.
She threw me onto the bed and undid my shirt; sitting on top of me and kissing my neck some more. I skilfully undid her bra with one hand and pulled her neck to meet my lips, the sound of her moaning was like a fine symphony. I sat up in order to remove my shirt and the change in position bought my mouth level with her breasts. I took her nipple in my mouth as she screamed a tirade of expletives. She was fucking hot this evening.
I could feel her hands loosing my belt as I nibbled her wonderful breasts. She leaned back and I heard the familiar ‘clink’ of the belt buckle. With her still on my lap, I slid to the edge of the bed and stood up and out of my jeans. Her legs were now wrapped around my waist and the lace of her underwear felt rough against my skin.
Her legs unwrapped and she stood in front of me and smiled that gorgeous smile before dropping to her knees- taking my boxers down with her. This is where it fucked up.
Despite her best attempts, I couldn’t get hard. And, the more she tried the more flustered and frustrated I got.
She stopped.
“Everything ok?” She said.
“Umm…does it look ok?” I replied.
“It’s not a big deal, Ernie.” She was clearly being sincere, but I took it the wrong way.
“Yes it is.” I said stubbornly. “Look, this was a mistake- I’m going to go. It’s nothing to do with you Sandra, I think you’re amazing but…I have….I mean, I am…” I looked down at my flaccid cock “well, you know.”
“It’s fine, Ernie. I’d like you to stay.”
I didn’t say another word, I just picked up my clothes and left.
I don’t remember the drive back to the faggot’s house. I was lost in a world where I’d never get hard again, never ejaculate or feel the all over tingle of a good orgasm. I was a total fuck-up in every single way and would just have to get used to a life of singledom where my best friend was a fag and the only person I every truly loved was dead.
As I walked through the door, I heard a babble of voices coming from the living room. I decided I wasn’t really in the frame of mind to socialise so headed upstairs and closed the door.
A few minutes later I heard footsteps coming up the stairs and stop outside my room, they seemed like they were just about to turn away but turned back and then someone knocked on the door.
“Come in.” I said, not realising that I’d been crying.
It was Stephen.
He looked like he was just about to ask how my evening had been.
“That bad, eh?”
“Worse than you can imagine.” I replied.
“Want to talk about it?”
“No, not really.” But, secretly, I did want to talk.
“Well you know where I am.” He said, as he turned and began to shut the door.
“Steve! Wait!”
The door opened again.
“I think you’d better come and sit down.”
I knew Stephen knew pretty much everything anyway- even down to my ‘problem.’ It felt good to chat to him and he just sat and listened without interjecting or trying to put his opinions forward. I told him about the night from start to finish; the brilliant date, the laughing, the endless conversation, her tits, her hot body and finishing with my malfunctioning cock and swift exit.
By the time I’d finished my story I was worn out, but it felt good to get it all off my chest.
“I don’t really know what to say.” Stephen admitted.
“You don’t have to say anything.” I said.
“Have you seen a doctor?”
“Yeah, seen a doc, got the pills. They’re not the answer.”
“You talked to a psychologist?”
I thought he was joking “A shrink? You think that’ll help?”
“I dunno. It might do. I know when you started having this problem- they could be linked.”
He was right but what good could a shrink do? The problem was with my dick- not my brain.
“Thanks for listening,” I said after an extended silence.
“No problems. Now you’re coming downstairs. You need a drink.”
He said it in a way that was impossible to decline. “But the room is full of fag.” I joked.
“You’ll fit right in then,”
As I stood up, Stephen pulled me in for a hug which took me by surprise.
“You’re an amazing guy, Ernie. Don’t forget that.”
“I bet you say that to all the boys.” I replied.
He just winked and pushed me downstairs.
As I entered the lounge a sea of mostly familiar faces greeted me. Stephen appeared behind me in the door way, announcing my arrival.
“Ernie, you remember Chase, Michael, Rob and Tyrone. Don’t you?”
“Yeah, of course I do.” I said, shaking their hands.
Stephen continued, “That ugly fuck in the armchair is Grant,” he said pointing at his boyfriend.
“And that’s…”
“…Matt.” I finished his sentence for him.
“You two know each other?”
“Yeah, well- sort of. Matt’s my trainer at the gym.”
“And Ernie’s straight, if I remembered correctly.” Matt butted in.
We both laughed at our shared private joke which we were then forced to explain the others, much to their amusement. I’d never met Matt through Grant and Stephen before. It turned out that he’d been dating Stephen’s best friend, Dan, for a while before Dan had gone abroad for work. In the time they’d been dating- Matt and Stephen had become good friends. It was then I started to click that Matt was Stephen’s crush.
It made so much sense. Physically he was similar to Grant; the same size but more toned. He had what women would probably say was a more “handsome” face than Grant and he was the sort of guy that put people at ease and had a good sense of humour.
I continued to watch them both as we sat around and shot the shit while drinking beers. They seemed to have a few shared moments but nothing else- maybe it wasn’t Matt, maybe Stephen just felt responsible for him because Matt didn’t seem to know anyone.
As always, when you get a group of guys together; conversation turns to sex. I sat and listened to most of it with a look of shock across my face. I know straight guys get up to some freaky things, but I didn’t even know half of what these guys were talking about.
My mind snapped back to the room when I heard Matt call across- “What about you, hetero?”
“Huh?” I gawped.
“Top or bottom?”
“What or what?” I was so confused- they all laughed.
“If you were gay, would you be a top or bottom?”
I still had no idea what the fuck he was talking about.
Grant butted in “A top does the fucking; a bottom gets fucked.”
“Why didn’t you say that in the first place?”
“We did!” They all screamed at me as if ‘top’ and ‘bottom’ was obvious.
“There’s no way I’d let someone shove something up my ass- I’d have to say top.”
They laughed again.
“I used to say that- back in my army days, but now I love it,” said Matt. The other bottoms in the room (all except Grant and Tyrone) agreed.
At around 2am they all left, except Matt who was sleeping on the sofa in the lounge.
Stephen had headed up to bed and Grant and I were chatting in the kitchen. I’d already told him about the date with Sandra which, thanks to a room full of fags, I’d mostly forgotten about. The conversation had turned back to last night’s revelation about Stephen;
“I think I’ve worked it out.” I declared.
“Worked what out?” Grant looked confused.
“Who it is that Stephen has a crush on, idiot.”
“I was wondering how long that would take you.” He said in a resigned way.
“What do you mean by that? I’ve only seen him with Matt for the first time tonight.”
Grant just laughed. “You’re a fuck up, Ernie.”
“What?”
“It’s not Matt,” he’d stopped laughing “It’s you.”
Suddenly, the past two days began to make a lot more sense.
Chapter 5- Flops and tops.
“Fuck!” I thought as I was driving home, I’d meant to call the estate agents about the house I’d seen. It was now after 11am and thought I would have missed the idea time to call. I had the details with me, so I dialled the number anyway (after pulling over, of course- drive sensibly, kids!)
“Thank you for calling Arcadia Homes. I am sorry, there is no one in the office to take your call right now. Please leave a message or call back during our office hours; Monday to Friday, 9am ‘til 6pm.” The sexy sounding voicemail woman played.
I though I’d leave a voicemail to save having to call back, “My name is Ernie Carmichael and I’d like to arrange a viewing of the property on Blinco Avenue for this coming week.” I left my number to call back and hung up the phone. Another job out of the way- I decided not to bother calling for the other apartments until I’d seen the house, or been told it wasn’t available.
I had nothing else to do all day until the my date with Sandra in the evening so I headed back to Grant’s to see what he and Stephen were up to.
Grant was still in bed when I got in, and Stephen was dozing on the sofa looking an interesting shade of green.
“GOOD MORNING!!” I yelled. Stephen jumped.
“Don’t fucking do that!” he groaned. “My head is pounding and I’ve not stopped being sick all morning.”
I laughed.
“Fuck off, you prick!” he was obviously suffering. “Where have you been anyway?”
“To the gym.” I replied.
“How on earth did you manage that?”
“Hangover cure! Wait there, I’ll get you the stuff.”
I went to the kitchen and got the necessary bits, when I came back down half an hour later, after sorting some clothes for laundry, Stephen looked much better.
He smiled, “That’s a miracle concoction, I feel almost human again!”
“Good, I’m glad you’re ok. What are you up to today?”
“I was just thinking about going shopping, I could do with new clothes for tonight.”
“Are you going out again?”
“Hell no! Just a few friends of our friends are coming over. Shit! We didn’t tell you about it. You know you’re more than welcome.”
“It’s not an orgy is it?”
“No! You cheeky fucker, it’s not a damn orgy; just some guys coming over for movies and drinks. I’m guessing you’ll be joining us?”
“Actually, I won’t. I’ve got a date.” I said with a wry smile.
“Oooh! Get you, stud!” He teased.
“It’s not a big deal, just some chick from work.”
“Is she hot?”
“Hotter than you make me, that’s for sure!”
He smiled, “she must be hot then, cuz I know you want me.”
“You wish, Priss.”
“Whatever hetero. Spaghetti is straight until you get it wet.”
I rolled my eyes at him and laughed.
“I’m going to check on Grant,” he said, getting off the sofa, my eyes caught sight of an obvious boner in his boxerbriefs.
“Cool, cool! Do I need to make noise to cover any fucking?”
“I doubt it, he’s even worse than me!”
“Oh dear!”
And with that, he headed upstairs- adjusting the boner in his underwear. I thought nothing more of it; he probably just woke up with it. I heard it was common for most guys to wake up hard; not me, obviously, I’d not managed an erection for years- to say I was sexually frustrated was an understatement. It was probably why I found so many women attractive, I had all this pent-up lust but I hadn’t been hard or ejaculated in years- even alone, I couldn’t do it. It was beginning to piss me off, but this was the first time I’d really started to worry about it. Oh well, Sandra would sort it. I couldn’t wait to fuck her.
I spent the rest of the day doing not much. Grant didn’t surface until about 4pm- he looked worse than Stephen and I put together. I made a light meal for the three of us and Stephen gave me a hand- still chatting shit at each other and bickering like kids. It was odd that, although Grant was my the one I’d known longer, I often felt that I was closer to, and had more in common with, Stephen. We just clicked and it was fine.
I arrived to pick Sandra up at 8. In typical female fashion she answered the door and was ‘not quite ready.’ I skulked about in her hallway while she dried her hair and put the finishing touches to her outfit.
When she came down, ten minutes later, she looked absolutely fucking stunning. I was tempted to rip her clothes off there and then, but thought it could wait. We headed to the restaurant and had a great meal; there was something about her that put me at complete ease. There were no awkward silences or forced laughter; we chatted for hours and eventually left when the waiter told us that they really needed to close.
She invited me back to hers “for coffee” and of course I jumped at the chance. As I was driving home, her hand kept brushing my thigh- this was going to be a good night.
As soon as we got through her front door, I grabbed her hips; turned her round and started kissing her. She reciprocated and held me in close; I could feel her wonderful tits pressing against my chest.
I undid the zip on the back of her dress and she playfully bit my neck. She stepped out of her dress and stood there in her black underwear, looking fucking amazing. Then, she grabbed my hand and led me upstairs.
She threw me onto the bed and undid my shirt; sitting on top of me and kissing my neck some more. I skilfully undid her bra with one hand and pulled her neck to meet my lips, the sound of her moaning was like a fine symphony. I sat up in order to remove my shirt and the change in position bought my mouth level with her breasts. I took her nipple in my mouth as she screamed a tirade of expletives. She was fucking hot this evening.
I could feel her hands loosing my belt as I nibbled her wonderful breasts. She leaned back and I heard the familiar ‘clink’ of the belt buckle. With her still on my lap, I slid to the edge of the bed and stood up and out of my jeans. Her legs were now wrapped around my waist and the lace of her underwear felt rough against my skin.
Her legs unwrapped and she stood in front of me and smiled that gorgeous smile before dropping to her knees- taking my boxers down with her. This is where it fucked up.
Despite her best attempts, I couldn’t get hard. And, the more she tried the more flustered and frustrated I got.
She stopped.
“Everything ok?” She said.
“Umm…does it look ok?” I replied.
“It’s not a big deal, Ernie.” She was clearly being sincere, but I took it the wrong way.
“Yes it is.” I said stubbornly. “Look, this was a mistake- I’m going to go. It’s nothing to do with you Sandra, I think you’re amazing but…I have….I mean, I am…” I looked down at my flaccid cock “well, you know.”
“It’s fine, Ernie. I’d like you to stay.”
I didn’t say another word, I just picked up my clothes and left.
I don’t remember the drive back to the faggot’s house. I was lost in a world where I’d never get hard again, never ejaculate or feel the all over tingle of a good orgasm. I was a total fuck-up in every single way and would just have to get used to a life of singledom where my best friend was a fag and the only person I every truly loved was dead.
As I walked through the door, I heard a babble of voices coming from the living room. I decided I wasn’t really in the frame of mind to socialise so headed upstairs and closed the door.
A few minutes later I heard footsteps coming up the stairs and stop outside my room, they seemed like they were just about to turn away but turned back and then someone knocked on the door.
“Come in.” I said, not realising that I’d been crying.
It was Stephen.
He looked like he was just about to ask how my evening had been.
“That bad, eh?”
“Worse than you can imagine.” I replied.
“Want to talk about it?”
“No, not really.” But, secretly, I did want to talk.
“Well you know where I am.” He said, as he turned and began to shut the door.
“Steve! Wait!”
The door opened again.
“I think you’d better come and sit down.”
I knew Stephen knew pretty much everything anyway- even down to my ‘problem.’ It felt good to chat to him and he just sat and listened without interjecting or trying to put his opinions forward. I told him about the night from start to finish; the brilliant date, the laughing, the endless conversation, her tits, her hot body and finishing with my malfunctioning cock and swift exit.
By the time I’d finished my story I was worn out, but it felt good to get it all off my chest.
“I don’t really know what to say.” Stephen admitted.
“You don’t have to say anything.” I said.
“Have you seen a doctor?”
“Yeah, seen a doc, got the pills. They’re not the answer.”
“You talked to a psychologist?”
I thought he was joking “A shrink? You think that’ll help?”
“I dunno. It might do. I know when you started having this problem- they could be linked.”
He was right but what good could a shrink do? The problem was with my dick- not my brain.
“Thanks for listening,” I said after an extended silence.
“No problems. Now you’re coming downstairs. You need a drink.”
He said it in a way that was impossible to decline. “But the room is full of fag.” I joked.
“You’ll fit right in then,”
As I stood up, Stephen pulled me in for a hug which took me by surprise.
“You’re an amazing guy, Ernie. Don’t forget that.”
“I bet you say that to all the boys.” I replied.
He just winked and pushed me downstairs.
As I entered the lounge a sea of mostly familiar faces greeted me. Stephen appeared behind me in the door way, announcing my arrival.
“Ernie, you remember Chase, Michael, Rob and Tyrone. Don’t you?”
“Yeah, of course I do.” I said, shaking their hands.
Stephen continued, “That ugly fuck in the armchair is Grant,” he said pointing at his boyfriend.
“And that’s…”
“…Matt.” I finished his sentence for him.
“You two know each other?”
“Yeah, well- sort of. Matt’s my trainer at the gym.”
“And Ernie’s straight, if I remembered correctly.” Matt butted in.
We both laughed at our shared private joke which we were then forced to explain the others, much to their amusement. I’d never met Matt through Grant and Stephen before. It turned out that he’d been dating Stephen’s best friend, Dan, for a while before Dan had gone abroad for work. In the time they’d been dating- Matt and Stephen had become good friends. It was then I started to click that Matt was Stephen’s crush.
It made so much sense. Physically he was similar to Grant; the same size but more toned. He had what women would probably say was a more “handsome” face than Grant and he was the sort of guy that put people at ease and had a good sense of humour.
I continued to watch them both as we sat around and shot the shit while drinking beers. They seemed to have a few shared moments but nothing else- maybe it wasn’t Matt, maybe Stephen just felt responsible for him because Matt didn’t seem to know anyone.
As always, when you get a group of guys together; conversation turns to sex. I sat and listened to most of it with a look of shock across my face. I know straight guys get up to some freaky things, but I didn’t even know half of what these guys were talking about.
My mind snapped back to the room when I heard Matt call across- “What about you, hetero?”
“Huh?” I gawped.
“Top or bottom?”
“What or what?” I was so confused- they all laughed.
“If you were gay, would you be a top or bottom?”
I still had no idea what the fuck he was talking about.
Grant butted in “A top does the fucking; a bottom gets fucked.”
“Why didn’t you say that in the first place?”
“We did!” They all screamed at me as if ‘top’ and ‘bottom’ was obvious.
“There’s no way I’d let someone shove something up my ass- I’d have to say top.”
They laughed again.
“I used to say that- back in my army days, but now I love it,” said Matt. The other bottoms in the room (all except Grant and Tyrone) agreed.
At around 2am they all left, except Matt who was sleeping on the sofa in the lounge.
Stephen had headed up to bed and Grant and I were chatting in the kitchen. I’d already told him about the date with Sandra which, thanks to a room full of fags, I’d mostly forgotten about. The conversation had turned back to last night’s revelation about Stephen;
“I think I’ve worked it out.” I declared.
“Worked what out?” Grant looked confused.
“Who it is that Stephen has a crush on, idiot.”
“I was wondering how long that would take you.” He said in a resigned way.
“What do you mean by that? I’ve only seen him with Matt for the first time tonight.”
Grant just laughed. “You’re a fuck up, Ernie.”
“What?”
“It’s not Matt,” he’d stopped laughing “It’s you.”
Suddenly, the past two days began to make a lot more sense.
Chapter 6- Taken for a Ride.
“Oh,” was pretty much all I could bring myself to say.
“So…umm…yeah. I though you’d realised.”
“I’d not really thought about it to be honest. I assumed it was another gay guy. I mean, why would he have a crush on me when he knows I’m straight?”
“Sometimes, we can’t help who we fall for. Gay, straight, bi or Thai.” He smiled.
“Yeah, I suppose. Well- it’s good news in a way.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because you can now ask him to marry you without being worried that he’s going to get it on with me. I like the guy and all, but not enough to let him put his cock in my mouth.”
“You’re a twat, you know that?” He said as he hugged me.
“Yeah, I know that- you tell me enough.”
Just then, Matt appeared in the doorway in just his boxers. Grant was clearly checking him out but stopped when he realised I’d seen him. Even I could tell you that this guy was ripped; his body had been honed to perfection.
“My head hurts already.” He said in a struggled voice.
“I’ll make some coffee.” I said as Matt came and sat on one of the stools.
“I’ll leave you guys to it- I’d better get to bed, Princess will be mad if I don’t tuck him in.” And with that, Grant disappeared up the stairs.
Matt and I remained in the kitchen and talked for a while over coffee. We mainly spoke about the gym and fitness. It turned out Matt had been forced out of the army after one of the other soldiers ‘honey trapping’ him and making him reveal his sexuality. He had been upset about it at first, but soon realised that he didn’t actually miss the military lifestyle and much preferred his job as a personal trainer. At 24 he was a bit embarrassed about still living with his parents, but he couldn’t afford to move out. His mum knew about his sexuality and accepted it begrudgingly, whereas his dad knew but pretended it didn’t exist and kept pestering him about girlfriends etc. Matt was an only child and saw this as the reason for his parent’s less-than-favourable attitudes.
We continued talking into the small hours- he was a real nice kid and obviously has a few troubles of his own. I liked that about people; everyone had shit but I saw more in the people that could talk about it than people who make out everything is fine.
“Shit man!” he gasped, catching sight of the clock on the oven. “It’s gone 5am”
“Fuck, it has.” I responded.
“I’d better get some sleep- I start work at 10.”
“Yeah, I’m beat too. Say, do you need a lift in the morning? I was planning on going anyway; think I could do with the workout.”
“Yeah, you could!” He quipped, pinching the side of my belly.
“Fuck off, Lieutenant Priss!” I slapped his hand away.
We both laughed.
“A lift would be great. If the offer’s still there?”
“Not any more!” I giggled before changing my tone “of course.”
“Great.”
“Night then,” I said standing from the stool
“Night Hetero.”
“Night faggot.”
He winked at me. What did that mean?
I winked back. What did that mean?
I slept better than I thought I would, given the events of the previous day.
***
I awoke feeling pretty refreshed. I didn’t bother showering as I was only going to get sweaty at the gym anyway.
As I came down the stairs, Matt and Stephen were involved in some quiet, secretive conversation which ceased as soon as I was in earshot.
“Morning Ernelia,” Stephen sang in a breezy tone while looking like he was on trial.
“Morning gays,” I smiled at him and Matt. “Am I interrupting something?”
They shared a furtive smile. “Not at all!” responded Matt.
“Ready to go in fifteen minutes?” I asked Matt
“Whenever you are Ernelia,” they both giggled.
“Oh don’t you start too- or you can walk…no, mince your own way to work.”
Stephen had made scrambled egg which I ate quickly before chucking my gym gear in the bag and then chucking that into the back of my car. Matt came out in the clothes he’d been wearing the night before. He said he was going to change at work as he kept some bits and pieces in his locked there.
We pulled up to the gym just before ten; he jumped out as soon as we’d stopped, smiling a “thank you,” as he ran up the steps. I took a little longer getting inside and Matt was just coming out of the changing rooms as I was going in.
“I meant to say thank you for the ride,”
“It’s no problem,” I said.
“It was very kind of you. Anyway, I’ve got to go- I’m lucky the boss isn’t in yet but I do need to go an meet my first client.”
“Yeah, you go do some work. I’ll probably see you around.”
“I would think so,” he smiled again and walked away.
As I was changing, my phone rang. It was a number I didn’t recognise but I picked up anyway.
“Hello?”
“Hello, Is that Mr Carmichael?
“Yes, who am I talking to please.”
“This is Janet calling from Arcadia Homes. I am sorry to call you on a Sunday, but I just heard your voicemail about the property on Blinco Avenue and wondered if we could arrange a viewing at some point to suit you.”
“Oh- yeah, that would be great. Is tomorrow morning too soon?”
“It’ll have to be early. 9am is my only free spot tomorrow.”
“That sounds great.” I didn’t need to start work until 10:30 anyway.
“Wonderful, I’ll meet you at the property at 10:30.”
“Thank you for your call.”
“Thank you, Mr Carmichael.”
This was a good sign, the property hadn’t gone and I was going to be one of the first to see it the following day.
I spent a good two hours working out and headed home. Matt made a point of saying goodbye when I left. He was a nice guy, even if he was a fag. I spent the rest of the day sorting out the files that I needed for work; ironing my shirts and generally wasting time. Sandra had sent me a couple of texts, all of which I had ignored. I wasn’t looking forward to facing her the following morning at work.
****
Monday-fucking-morning. Why is this always the worst point of the week?
I struggled to wake up at 7am and got myself ready. I loaded up the ride with all my things for work, making sure to hang my suit jacket up in the back-behind the driver’s seat.
Following the map, the property was pretty easy to find and I arrived to find a hot black chick in a yellow skirt waiting for me at the house.
“Mr Carmichael?” she smiled as my mind was already beginning to think about fucking her inside the empty house. “My name’s Janet- we spoke on the phone.”
“Yes. Thank you for calling yesterday. I didn’t think you guys worked on the weekends.”
“We don’t usually, but I had to stop by the office as we’re short staffed at the moment. You were the only voicemail waiting so I thought I would give you a call.”
“I appreciate it.”
She showed me around the house, which was surprisingly nicer than it had appeared in the pictures. Both bedrooms were a good size and all the rooms were in pretty good shape apart from the kitchen. The kitchen was a tip.
“I’m sure I wouldn’t surprise you by saying the kitchen is the main sticking point with this house. Most people looking to move into this area are young professionals who want something to ready to move into straight away and renovate in stages. This place, as you can see, needs a bit of work before you could move in. Structurally, it’s completely sound but aesthetically it’ll take a lot of effort.”
Despite this, I liked the house. Janet had mentioned, in between my fantasies of doing her doggy-style in the smaller bedroom, that the vendor was looking for a quick sale and would probably lower the price a little. Without really thinking, but trusting my instincts I told her that I’d take it but I had to wait to sale my previous place. She didn’t seem to think that that would be a problem and phoned the vendor with an offer that was significantly lower than the asking price.
I was relieved when she called back, just as I pulled into the car park at work, to let me know my offer had been accepted but she also said that I needed to sale my old place within a week to get the deal through on time, otherwise she’d put the place back on the market. I was ecstatic as I walked through the door of my office- unfortunately that feeling wouldn’t last much longer.
Thankfully, Sandra wasn’t at her desk when I arrived. So I walked straight to the stairs and up to my office on the second floor. I knew something was up as every “welcome back” greeting was mixed with a wry grin or muffled laughter. When I got to my desk I could have cried; some fucker (or fuckers) had covered my desk with printed off “Make her happy, buy Viagra,” and “Go all night with your new member” emails. I ripped them off and threw them in the bin.
The day just went from bad to worse. People walked past my desk dropping the word flop or floppy into their conversation. People I didn’t even know would smile nervously at me in the corridors before making pointed conversation, most of which involving the phrase “couldn’t get it up.” I was fucking livid.
By lunchtime I’d had enough, I had gradually got angrier and angrier. I could feel the room starting to spin- I was paranoid that everyone was now talking about me- even the people on the phones. Every time I got an email I would find insults in the most innocent of phrases. But, worse than this, people were actually still talking about me. I tried to help someone pick up a pile of papers they’d dropped and Paul made a comment about it being the first time I’d got something up all weekend.
That was the breaking point.
Blood
pumping in my ears and seeing black spots in the corners of my eyes I stormed down the reception area.
“YOU FUCKING BITCH!” I screamed at Sandra.
“Ernie? I…”
“DON’T FUCKING TRY AND EXPLAIN YOURSELF, YOU SLUT.”
“Ernie, please!”
“SHUT THE FUCK UP! HOW DARE YOU BROADCAST MY BUSINESS TO THE OFFICE.”
“I didn’t, I only told…”
“OH, you only told one person, who told her friends and they told their’s and now every fucker knows and has had a fucking good laugh about it. Shows what you know, you fucking cheap slut. With your little shirts, and ‘come-fuck-me’ shoes- I bet you’ve had more pricks in you than my grandmothers pin-cushion YOU FILTHY WHORE.”
As I said this tears were building in my eyes, I was going fucking mad.
She stood up. “Ernie, please stop screaming.”
“I’M NOT SCREAMING! I’M…I’m….” I sank to the floor and buried my head in my hands. I didn’t want to see anyone and I didn’t want anyone to see me so I curled myself into a tight ball and dropped sideways onto the floor.
In my mind I was back in the hospital, 12 years ago. I could see it as clearly as you can see the JUB forum on your computer right now. I was in a corridor, the corridor. I could see Debbie in labour through the window but this time, she didn’t notice me as she had done before. I knocked on the window but no one in the room paid me any attention. I tried the door handle; the door didn’t open. I tried it again, and again, and again but it didn’t open. I tried to break the window with my fist. I punched the window repeatedly, my knuckles were bleeding but I didn’t stop. The window that now completely filled my vision was turning red. Debbie and the Doctors were turning a crimsony-brown in random spodges. Debbie was screaming inside the room, I was screaming outside of the room. She stopped screaming and I heard a baby cry- I heard Rose cry.
But only once.
Then it stopped.
I had no idea how long I’d been lying there. But when I opened my eyes, I was covered in a blanket and Grant was sitting next to me.
“Where’s Rose?” I asked him.
“What?” He said, startled.
“It’s ok, I know she’s dead,” and I closed my eyes again.
The next few days are pretty blurry. I was taken into hospital and observed overnight but they could find nothing physically wrong with me and kept referring only to my “episode.”
I’d been released the following day and had been allowed to go back to the poof’s palace under the proviso that someone stayed with me at all times when I was awake until they could get someone out to come and ‘talk’ to me. Stephen and Grant sorted out their schedules so that they were there with me. But, to be honest, I didn’t need them there and I didn’t really have anything to say.
Dr Hillard, an ageing psychologist, came to speak to me on the third day. He asked me a lot of bullshit questions that seemed completely beside the point but, as he left, he told me he would be back the following day and that our session had been “most enlightening.”
“Am I crazy?” I asked him the following day.
“No, Mr Carmichael. You’re not crazy,” he reassured me.
“Then what was all that about?”
“It’s called a post-traumatic episode, Mr Carmichael, and, quite frankly, I’m surprised it’s taken this long.”
“You are?”
“You told me about the circumstances surrounding your episode when we spoke yesterday. You've had a very tough few years and you've not helped yourself by suppressing your feelings throughout this time. I am going to speak candidly to you now with what I believe to be the problem. Please let me add that I am not in the business of sugar-coating the pill.”
“I think that’s a good idea.”
“It is my belief, Mr Carmichael, that the reason for your episode comes from bottling up the feelings from the death of your daughter. When you and your wife lost your child, you blamed yourself for her death; your wife also blamed you- for not allowing her to see the child.
“Whether you made the right decision is irrelevant now. You stayed in the marriage because you wanted to protect your wife and show her that you could be a good husband but the failings in your marriage also resulted in failings…ahem…elsewhere (he meant my dick.) Your dealings with Sandra Strachan were, unless I’m much mistaken, the first time you’d tried to have sexual interaction since the end of your marriage. The incident with Miss Strachan made you realise that the failings of your penis were not to do with your marriage but the guilt you’ve been carrying around for 12 years- the episode was your mind’s way of reminding you where it all started going wrong. It wanted to show you where all your pain comes from in order to help you lose the guilt you feel.”
“Wow…that actually makes sense! And, you’re right, I did bottle up the feelings.”
“Yes, I’d deduced as much.”
“Is that why I can’t get it up?”
“Your impotence (he said 'impotence' as if he were correcting me) is linked to this but in another way. You blame yourself for your daughter’s death and you blame yourself for not allowing your wife to see your daughter. In short, Mr Carmichael, you feel guilt around woman and punish yourself for it.”
“But I can’t get an erection alone either.”
“Because you’re watching, or thinking about women. No doubt.”
I hate to admit it, but the guy knew what he was talking about
“So, what have I got to do then? You know, to get it working again?”
“That, Mr Carmichael, is the million-dollar question.”
“Oh,” was pretty much all I could bring myself to say.
“So…umm…yeah. I though you’d realised.”
“I’d not really thought about it to be honest. I assumed it was another gay guy. I mean, why would he have a crush on me when he knows I’m straight?”
“Sometimes, we can’t help who we fall for. Gay, straight, bi or Thai.” He smiled.
“Yeah, I suppose. Well- it’s good news in a way.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because you can now ask him to marry you without being worried that he’s going to get it on with me. I like the guy and all, but not enough to let him put his cock in my mouth.”
“You’re a twat, you know that?” He said as he hugged me.
“Yeah, I know that- you tell me enough.”
Just then, Matt appeared in the doorway in just his boxers. Grant was clearly checking him out but stopped when he realised I’d seen him. Even I could tell you that this guy was ripped; his body had been honed to perfection.
“My head hurts already.” He said in a struggled voice.
“I’ll make some coffee.” I said as Matt came and sat on one of the stools.
“I’ll leave you guys to it- I’d better get to bed, Princess will be mad if I don’t tuck him in.” And with that, Grant disappeared up the stairs.
Matt and I remained in the kitchen and talked for a while over coffee. We mainly spoke about the gym and fitness. It turned out Matt had been forced out of the army after one of the other soldiers ‘honey trapping’ him and making him reveal his sexuality. He had been upset about it at first, but soon realised that he didn’t actually miss the military lifestyle and much preferred his job as a personal trainer. At 24 he was a bit embarrassed about still living with his parents, but he couldn’t afford to move out. His mum knew about his sexuality and accepted it begrudgingly, whereas his dad knew but pretended it didn’t exist and kept pestering him about girlfriends etc. Matt was an only child and saw this as the reason for his parent’s less-than-favourable attitudes.
We continued talking into the small hours- he was a real nice kid and obviously has a few troubles of his own. I liked that about people; everyone had shit but I saw more in the people that could talk about it than people who make out everything is fine.
“Shit man!” he gasped, catching sight of the clock on the oven. “It’s gone 5am”
“Fuck, it has.” I responded.
“I’d better get some sleep- I start work at 10.”
“Yeah, I’m beat too. Say, do you need a lift in the morning? I was planning on going anyway; think I could do with the workout.”
“Yeah, you could!” He quipped, pinching the side of my belly.
“Fuck off, Lieutenant Priss!” I slapped his hand away.
We both laughed.
“A lift would be great. If the offer’s still there?”
“Not any more!” I giggled before changing my tone “of course.”
“Great.”
“Night then,” I said standing from the stool
“Night Hetero.”
“Night faggot.”
He winked at me. What did that mean?
I winked back. What did that mean?
I slept better than I thought I would, given the events of the previous day.
***
I awoke feeling pretty refreshed. I didn’t bother showering as I was only going to get sweaty at the gym anyway.
As I came down the stairs, Matt and Stephen were involved in some quiet, secretive conversation which ceased as soon as I was in earshot.
“Morning Ernelia,” Stephen sang in a breezy tone while looking like he was on trial.
“Morning gays,” I smiled at him and Matt. “Am I interrupting something?”
They shared a furtive smile. “Not at all!” responded Matt.
“Ready to go in fifteen minutes?” I asked Matt
“Whenever you are Ernelia,” they both giggled.
“Oh don’t you start too- or you can walk…no, mince your own way to work.”
Stephen had made scrambled egg which I ate quickly before chucking my gym gear in the bag and then chucking that into the back of my car. Matt came out in the clothes he’d been wearing the night before. He said he was going to change at work as he kept some bits and pieces in his locked there.
We pulled up to the gym just before ten; he jumped out as soon as we’d stopped, smiling a “thank you,” as he ran up the steps. I took a little longer getting inside and Matt was just coming out of the changing rooms as I was going in.
“I meant to say thank you for the ride,”
“It’s no problem,” I said.
“It was very kind of you. Anyway, I’ve got to go- I’m lucky the boss isn’t in yet but I do need to go an meet my first client.”
“Yeah, you go do some work. I’ll probably see you around.”
“I would think so,” he smiled again and walked away.
As I was changing, my phone rang. It was a number I didn’t recognise but I picked up anyway.
“Hello?”
“Hello, Is that Mr Carmichael?
“Yes, who am I talking to please.”
“This is Janet calling from Arcadia Homes. I am sorry to call you on a Sunday, but I just heard your voicemail about the property on Blinco Avenue and wondered if we could arrange a viewing at some point to suit you.”
“Oh- yeah, that would be great. Is tomorrow morning too soon?”
“It’ll have to be early. 9am is my only free spot tomorrow.”
“That sounds great.” I didn’t need to start work until 10:30 anyway.
“Wonderful, I’ll meet you at the property at 10:30.”
“Thank you for your call.”
“Thank you, Mr Carmichael.”
This was a good sign, the property hadn’t gone and I was going to be one of the first to see it the following day.
I spent a good two hours working out and headed home. Matt made a point of saying goodbye when I left. He was a nice guy, even if he was a fag. I spent the rest of the day sorting out the files that I needed for work; ironing my shirts and generally wasting time. Sandra had sent me a couple of texts, all of which I had ignored. I wasn’t looking forward to facing her the following morning at work.
****
Monday-fucking-morning. Why is this always the worst point of the week?
I struggled to wake up at 7am and got myself ready. I loaded up the ride with all my things for work, making sure to hang my suit jacket up in the back-behind the driver’s seat.
Following the map, the property was pretty easy to find and I arrived to find a hot black chick in a yellow skirt waiting for me at the house.
“Mr Carmichael?” she smiled as my mind was already beginning to think about fucking her inside the empty house. “My name’s Janet- we spoke on the phone.”
“Yes. Thank you for calling yesterday. I didn’t think you guys worked on the weekends.”
“We don’t usually, but I had to stop by the office as we’re short staffed at the moment. You were the only voicemail waiting so I thought I would give you a call.”
“I appreciate it.”
She showed me around the house, which was surprisingly nicer than it had appeared in the pictures. Both bedrooms were a good size and all the rooms were in pretty good shape apart from the kitchen. The kitchen was a tip.
“I’m sure I wouldn’t surprise you by saying the kitchen is the main sticking point with this house. Most people looking to move into this area are young professionals who want something to ready to move into straight away and renovate in stages. This place, as you can see, needs a bit of work before you could move in. Structurally, it’s completely sound but aesthetically it’ll take a lot of effort.”
Despite this, I liked the house. Janet had mentioned, in between my fantasies of doing her doggy-style in the smaller bedroom, that the vendor was looking for a quick sale and would probably lower the price a little. Without really thinking, but trusting my instincts I told her that I’d take it but I had to wait to sale my previous place. She didn’t seem to think that that would be a problem and phoned the vendor with an offer that was significantly lower than the asking price.
I was relieved when she called back, just as I pulled into the car park at work, to let me know my offer had been accepted but she also said that I needed to sale my old place within a week to get the deal through on time, otherwise she’d put the place back on the market. I was ecstatic as I walked through the door of my office- unfortunately that feeling wouldn’t last much longer.
Thankfully, Sandra wasn’t at her desk when I arrived. So I walked straight to the stairs and up to my office on the second floor. I knew something was up as every “welcome back” greeting was mixed with a wry grin or muffled laughter. When I got to my desk I could have cried; some fucker (or fuckers) had covered my desk with printed off “Make her happy, buy Viagra,” and “Go all night with your new member” emails. I ripped them off and threw them in the bin.
The day just went from bad to worse. People walked past my desk dropping the word flop or floppy into their conversation. People I didn’t even know would smile nervously at me in the corridors before making pointed conversation, most of which involving the phrase “couldn’t get it up.” I was fucking livid.
By lunchtime I’d had enough, I had gradually got angrier and angrier. I could feel the room starting to spin- I was paranoid that everyone was now talking about me- even the people on the phones. Every time I got an email I would find insults in the most innocent of phrases. But, worse than this, people were actually still talking about me. I tried to help someone pick up a pile of papers they’d dropped and Paul made a comment about it being the first time I’d got something up all weekend.
That was the breaking point.
Blood
pumping in my ears and seeing black spots in the corners of my eyes I stormed down the reception area.
“YOU FUCKING BITCH!” I screamed at Sandra.
“Ernie? I…”
“DON’T FUCKING TRY AND EXPLAIN YOURSELF, YOU SLUT.”
“Ernie, please!”
“SHUT THE FUCK UP! HOW DARE YOU BROADCAST MY BUSINESS TO THE OFFICE.”
“I didn’t, I only told…”
“OH, you only told one person, who told her friends and they told their’s and now every fucker knows and has had a fucking good laugh about it. Shows what you know, you fucking cheap slut. With your little shirts, and ‘come-fuck-me’ shoes- I bet you’ve had more pricks in you than my grandmothers pin-cushion YOU FILTHY WHORE.”
As I said this tears were building in my eyes, I was going fucking mad.
She stood up. “Ernie, please stop screaming.”
“I’M NOT SCREAMING! I’M…I’m….” I sank to the floor and buried my head in my hands. I didn’t want to see anyone and I didn’t want anyone to see me so I curled myself into a tight ball and dropped sideways onto the floor.
In my mind I was back in the hospital, 12 years ago. I could see it as clearly as you can see the JUB forum on your computer right now. I was in a corridor, the corridor. I could see Debbie in labour through the window but this time, she didn’t notice me as she had done before. I knocked on the window but no one in the room paid me any attention. I tried the door handle; the door didn’t open. I tried it again, and again, and again but it didn’t open. I tried to break the window with my fist. I punched the window repeatedly, my knuckles were bleeding but I didn’t stop. The window that now completely filled my vision was turning red. Debbie and the Doctors were turning a crimsony-brown in random spodges. Debbie was screaming inside the room, I was screaming outside of the room. She stopped screaming and I heard a baby cry- I heard Rose cry.
But only once.
Then it stopped.
I had no idea how long I’d been lying there. But when I opened my eyes, I was covered in a blanket and Grant was sitting next to me.
“Where’s Rose?” I asked him.
“What?” He said, startled.
“It’s ok, I know she’s dead,” and I closed my eyes again.
The next few days are pretty blurry. I was taken into hospital and observed overnight but they could find nothing physically wrong with me and kept referring only to my “episode.”
I’d been released the following day and had been allowed to go back to the poof’s palace under the proviso that someone stayed with me at all times when I was awake until they could get someone out to come and ‘talk’ to me. Stephen and Grant sorted out their schedules so that they were there with me. But, to be honest, I didn’t need them there and I didn’t really have anything to say.
Dr Hillard, an ageing psychologist, came to speak to me on the third day. He asked me a lot of bullshit questions that seemed completely beside the point but, as he left, he told me he would be back the following day and that our session had been “most enlightening.”
“Am I crazy?” I asked him the following day.
“No, Mr Carmichael. You’re not crazy,” he reassured me.
“Then what was all that about?”
“It’s called a post-traumatic episode, Mr Carmichael, and, quite frankly, I’m surprised it’s taken this long.”
“You are?”
“You told me about the circumstances surrounding your episode when we spoke yesterday. You've had a very tough few years and you've not helped yourself by suppressing your feelings throughout this time. I am going to speak candidly to you now with what I believe to be the problem. Please let me add that I am not in the business of sugar-coating the pill.”
“I think that’s a good idea.”
“It is my belief, Mr Carmichael, that the reason for your episode comes from bottling up the feelings from the death of your daughter. When you and your wife lost your child, you blamed yourself for her death; your wife also blamed you- for not allowing her to see the child.
“Whether you made the right decision is irrelevant now. You stayed in the marriage because you wanted to protect your wife and show her that you could be a good husband but the failings in your marriage also resulted in failings…ahem…elsewhere (he meant my dick.) Your dealings with Sandra Strachan were, unless I’m much mistaken, the first time you’d tried to have sexual interaction since the end of your marriage. The incident with Miss Strachan made you realise that the failings of your penis were not to do with your marriage but the guilt you’ve been carrying around for 12 years- the episode was your mind’s way of reminding you where it all started going wrong. It wanted to show you where all your pain comes from in order to help you lose the guilt you feel.”
“Wow…that actually makes sense! And, you’re right, I did bottle up the feelings.”
“Yes, I’d deduced as much.”
“Is that why I can’t get it up?”
“Your impotence (he said 'impotence' as if he were correcting me) is linked to this but in another way. You blame yourself for your daughter’s death and you blame yourself for not allowing your wife to see your daughter. In short, Mr Carmichael, you feel guilt around woman and punish yourself for it.”
“But I can’t get an erection alone either.”
“Because you’re watching, or thinking about women. No doubt.”
I hate to admit it, but the guy knew what he was talking about
“So, what have I got to do then? You know, to get it working again?”
“That, Mr Carmichael, is the million-dollar question.”
Jobbio,
A pair of compelling chapters. There is a HUGE sea of feeling coming out of Ernie.
The interaction with his friends and their friends, his attempted evening with his office mate turning so badly . . .
For someone who was worried about being able to stay focused long enough to put "a decent sized" chapter together, you've done a wonderful job with everything, so far.
I can feel Ernie's angst, his pain, his suffering.
I can also feel sorry for Sandra - did she just talk to one person she thought she could confide in, to have everything blow up like a 50 megaton H-bomb.
And NOW, as the psychologist leaves the door open on what, EXACTLY, Ernie needs to do in order to regain a normal, functioning, organ and sex life.
Women as a focus only serve to remind him of his, and self-stimulation centers on the same stimuli, also leaving him wanting.
What's a man to do. A man living with a homosexual couple with a homosexual trainer who finds him very appealing, if we are to read background noise correctly.
AND, how long will it take our poor, poor, protagonist to become aware of the potential positive and push forward, prodding his pathway while pondering his pole as it prepares for vaulting and other potentialities?!
To my fellow readers - take the time to rate this thread, so others can see how you feel about it.
Thanks, Jobbio, for all the time and effort you are putting into making this a powerful, provocative, story.
On a minor note - be careful of grabbing the wrong dates/times.
A pair of compelling chapters. There is a HUGE sea of feeling coming out of Ernie.
The interaction with his friends and their friends, his attempted evening with his office mate turning so badly . . .
For someone who was worried about being able to stay focused long enough to put "a decent sized" chapter together, you've done a wonderful job with everything, so far.
I can feel Ernie's angst, his pain, his suffering.
I can also feel sorry for Sandra - did she just talk to one person she thought she could confide in, to have everything blow up like a 50 megaton H-bomb.
And NOW, as the psychologist leaves the door open on what, EXACTLY, Ernie needs to do in order to regain a normal, functioning, organ and sex life.
Women as a focus only serve to remind him of his, and self-stimulation centers on the same stimuli, also leaving him wanting.
What's a man to do. A man living with a homosexual couple with a homosexual trainer who finds him very appealing, if we are to read background noise correctly.
AND, how long will it take our poor, poor, protagonist to become aware of the potential positive and push forward, prodding his pathway while pondering his pole as it prepares for vaulting and other potentialities?!
To my fellow readers - take the time to rate this thread, so others can see how you feel about it.
Thanks, Jobbio, for all the time and effort you are putting into making this a powerful, provocative, story.
On a minor note - be careful of grabbing the wrong dates/times.
Oh yeah, I just realised my mistake. Perhaps a mod can change it to 9 years in the Doctor's speech. Having put the story on the back burner for so long, I've forgotten some of the intricacies of it.
Thanks Don, once again, for your kind and encouraging words!
Thanks Don, once again, for your kind and encouraging words!
harry113
JUB Addict
Thanks Jobbio. Great chapter!!
So if thinking about women is causing his 'problem', will
thinking about men relieve it ??????
More please
Harry
So if thinking about women is causing his 'problem', will
thinking about men relieve it ??????
More please
Harry
Craiger
JUB Addict
Jabbio,
What a delight to find a continuation of your fine story. I missed hearing about Ernie (that hated name) or should I say "Ernelia".....lol I really like how you have approached his impotence and how this tends to lead us into a new faze of his life. Looking forward to the next installment.
Craiger
What a delight to find a continuation of your fine story. I missed hearing about Ernie (that hated name) or should I say "Ernelia".....lol I really like how you have approached his impotence and how this tends to lead us into a new faze of his life. Looking forward to the next installment.
Craiger
Chapter 7- New Friends
After talking to Dr Hillard, there was no doubt about it- I was never going to have an erection again. Great, just fucking great.
My boss phoned; apologised profusely and told me to take as much time off as I needed. The subsequent phone call from Paul, made me realise that the boss had really laid into them after what had happened. The main players, including Sandra, had been given written warnings for their behaviour. I felt bad when it turned out that Sandra had turned up really upset in the morning as she didn’t want to face me; she’d cried on the shoulder of a colleague who she thought she could trust and the colleague (who remained anonymous) was the one who’d spread my business throughout the office.
Some good news had come out of the last few days, however. Debbie and I had sold the house which meant the new place was going through. Janet, the agent, had told me that I should be able to pick up the keys within the next couple of weeks. This lifted my spirits a little.
Over those few days I don’t know what I would have done without Grant, Stephen and, believe it or not, Matt. They were around whenever I needed them but not fussing over me too much. Stephen and I continued to banter like 18 year olds, Grant spoke with his usual bluntness and Matt remained somewhere in the middle. He came and picked me up and took me to the gym insisting that working out would take my mind off things, and boy did it work.
I knew Matt probably knew what had happened but he never asked me if I wanted to talk about it. In a way, I preferred this. As you probably have gathered by now, I find it easier to ignore the bad shit that happens. Matt and I carried on just as we had before, and I found myself growing to consider him a good friend. He didn’t posses the effeminate nature of most of the fags about and he was into sport in a big way- both watching and playing.
When I came back from the gym on the Saturday after the ‘episode,’ Stephen greeted me in tears, Grant was beaming a smile behind him.
“What’s happened?” I asked confused by the mixture of smiles and crying.
“Grant and I are getting married!” Stephen squealed.
“Oh, you’re not crying cuz you’re upset then? I would be if I was marrying that!”
We all laughed.
“I’m crying because I’m so happy!” Stephen squealed again in a pitch that could have made dogs’ ears bleed.
“Oh good. Congratulations!”
Grant came over and gave me a hug, Stephen joined in too.
“I have a question for you too,” Grant looked at me seriously.
“Bigamy is illegal here,” I joked.
“Shut up and listen, you twat.”
I looked at Grant trying not to laugh too much.
“Will you be my best man?”
I smiled the biggest smile I’d managed for years. “Of course! I’d be honoured.”
He pulled me in again for another hug- I felt so happy for them both.
“Who are you asking, Stephen?”
“You remember Tyrone? He’s already said yes.”
“Cool, cool.” I didn’t really know Tyrone that well but he was an old boyfriend of Stephen’s who had made the successful, but rare, transition from lover to friend.
“We’ve got to do something to celebrate!” I exclaimed like I was the one who was getting married.
“Already planned,” Grant confirmed with an authoritative, almost military-like, voice “a band of merry fags are coming over this evening for dinner and then we’re going out.”
“To Pretty?” I asked.
“Yes, Pretty. Where else? You’re coming right?”
“If I must. I’ll dig out the anti-fag spray and my chastity belt- I’ve just got it back from the welders; they’ve reinforced the ass plate.”
Grant rolled his eyes. “You’re a tiresome fucker, Ernie.” Then he laughed.
“But that’s why you love me.”
“Like an old dog,” he clapped his hand on my shoulder.
“What time are they coming over?”
“In about an hour and a half. Plenty of time for you to pull your steel pants on and get the padlocks done up.”
“Cool, cool. I think I’ll have a lie down first- I’m pooped from the gym.”
“Did Matt wear you out?” Stephen injected.
I just laughed. “Is he coming tonight?”
“Of course!” said Stephen with a grin that looked like it was hiding one motherfucker of a secret.
“Oh good.” I said.
***
I’d literally just dropped of to sleep when Stephen knocked at my door.
“Oi, sleeping beauty!” he called, barging in before I’d asked him to. “They’re going to be here in about half an hour and you stink of sweat.”
“It’s my masculine scent,” I replied as I sat up. “Not that you’d know anything about that.”
“Shut up and go and shower. As much as your musty smell might turn you on- the gays aren’t into that.”
“Sounds as good a reason as any not to go and shower.”
He chucked a towel at me. “Get in before I throw you in.”
“Ok faggy. I’m going.”
And with that, he left.
In the shower, I took time to reflect on all the things that had happened in the last two weeks. I’d moved out of, and sold, my home. Found a new place that I had fallen in love with and was now waiting to move in. Joined a gym, gained a new friend, nearly lost my mind, had a bust up with my best friend and found out that my best friend’s partner had a crush on me. I’d seen a psychologist, had attempted sex with a hot woman, not been able to get an erection and subsequently been the laughing stock of the workplace. I’d relived one of the worst moments of my life and had, for two or three days, become a nervous wreck. My life had NEVER been this eventful before.
I also kept reliving that awful ‘episode’ in my head but the images were gradually fading and being replaced with the real memory which, although not pleasant, was a hell of a lot more peaceful. I’d been taking some tablets that Hillard prescribed and he had also left a leaflet which didn’t really help much- all it said was that each day should get easier; don’t rush trying to get back to ‘normality,’ and that the rehabilitation process is different for everyone. Even I could have told you that!
By the time I’d got dressed the house was, once again, crawling with fagmites.
The same crowd as the previous Saturday night had joined us (Shit! Was that only a week ago?) and Grant had cooked a delicious meal. I sat next to Tyrone and took some time to get to know him as I figured I’d be seeing a lot of him in the coming months. He seemed like a nice guy- very much like Stephen but taller, a little thinner and he was black. He was a lawyer and had graduated at the top of his class from a very prestigious college. He was dating Rob, who was sat on the other side of Tyrone.
Next to me, Matt seemed very quiet and had hardly touched his meal.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, when my conversation with Tyrone had reached a natural conclusion.
“Oh nothing. Well, something, but nothing I want to talk about.”
“I’m asking because I want to help.”
“Ernie, don’t,” he looked my straight in the eye. “I’ve not bothered you about your troubles this past week. So when I say I don’t want to talk about it, please don’t force me to.”
“Shit, you’re right. Sorry.”
“It’s ok,” he tried to smile but I could see tears welling up in his eyes.
I put my hand on his shoulder- he pushed it away.
***
Grant, Rob, Chase and Tyrone were in the kitchen tidying up and Stephen had gone to talk to Matt who’d disappeared to the bathroom. I’d been left at the dinner table, making some extremely monotonous small talk with Michael about the library he worked in.
I was relieved, but concerned when Stephen came in with a serious look on his face and asked me if he could “have a word.” Matt had asked him to tell me why he was so upset at dinner; I wasn’t prepared for the story.
Matt had got home from work just hours earlier to find his Dad hitting his Mum, he’d gone in and stopped his Dad and taken his mum to his grandmother’s house. He’d wanted to stay there but his mum had asked him to leave, as she ‘didn’t want him involved.’ He had nowhere else to go, so he’d come here, as it was the only thing he could think about doing.
Without saying anything to Stephen, I headed upstairs and found Matt in the bathroom. He looked surprisingly calm, I don’t know if I could have maintained his composure for that long- sadness I can conceal, anger is a different matter.
“Y’alright kiddo?”
He nodded.
“Look,” I continued “Stephen’s just told me everything, you did the right thing. Your mum is going to be ok tonight, she’s in a safe place with someone that loves her and will look out for her too.”
He nodded again.
“She’s a grown woman. She’ll make the right decision.”
He shrugged his shoulders.
“Look, you’re not going to stay here on your own. I’ll drive into town; I can’t drink on these tablets anyway. It’ll take your mind off things but, whenever you want to leave, just say and I’ll get you back here. Deal?” I held out my hand and he shook it.
“Come on then kid, let’s find you a man of questionable morality to make you feel better.”
I laughed. He didn’t.
Pretty was no different to usual; a sea of orange skin and over-styled blonde hair. Call me old, but is there any need to wear sunglasses in the dark? The gays had got a taxi and Matt and I met them in the club. When we arrived they were already dancing to some indentikit pop song with a lot of bass and whirring noises in the background.
I ordered water for me and a beer for Matt. I liked the fact that he drank beer; it made him seem more my type of guy. Especially amongst the throng of near-anorexic looking boys drinking bottled liquids of a colour you’d never find in nature.
We didn’t see much of the others all night. Matt stayed near my side all night- he didn’t talk much but I didn’t expect him to. He only left me when his mum rang to thank him and tell him she was fine (this made him smile a bit more,) and when Stephen dragged him away to dance to another song that sounded just like the last one, but he came back pretty quickly as soon as the song had ended.
At about 1:30am, I started yawning.
“Do you want to go?” Matt asked.
“I’m pretty beat, but you should stay.”
“I think if I drink any more I’ll turn into one of those teary prom queens.”
“Only if you’re sure.”
“Yeah. I’m not really a great fan of gay clubs anyway.”
We said our goodbyes to the others and left. None of them gave us a hard time about leaving as they understood we’d both had a pretty rough time lately.
We arrived back and I told Matt he could have my bed.
“I’ll take the sofa, you need a good night’s sleep.”
“Are you sure Ernie? The sofa is really fucking uncomfortable- I know from last weekend.”
“Yeah, it’s fine.”
“Why don’t we share your bed? It’s a good enough size for two to sleep in without being too close.”
“I dunno, Matt.”
“I’m not going to rape you or anything,” he smiled “contrary to popular rumour, not all queers are sex obsessed fiends.”
I smiled, “Ok, as long as you promise not to rape me. Not that I could do much to stop someone of your size.”
“I promise,” he smiled, holding up his hand like a boy scout.
“Good.”
Matt took the side of the bed nearest the wall and I had the other side. He was right, there was more than enough room and space still left in the middle.
“Ernie,”
“Yeah.”
“Thanks for tonight, I owe you one.”
“No you don’t kiddo. That’s what friends are for.”
He was silent.
“You ok?” I asked.
“Yeah,” he said “just smilin’”
I smiled too.
“Night kiddo.”
“Night Ernelia.”
I threw my pillow at him. He didn’t throw it back.
After talking to Dr Hillard, there was no doubt about it- I was never going to have an erection again. Great, just fucking great.
My boss phoned; apologised profusely and told me to take as much time off as I needed. The subsequent phone call from Paul, made me realise that the boss had really laid into them after what had happened. The main players, including Sandra, had been given written warnings for their behaviour. I felt bad when it turned out that Sandra had turned up really upset in the morning as she didn’t want to face me; she’d cried on the shoulder of a colleague who she thought she could trust and the colleague (who remained anonymous) was the one who’d spread my business throughout the office.
Some good news had come out of the last few days, however. Debbie and I had sold the house which meant the new place was going through. Janet, the agent, had told me that I should be able to pick up the keys within the next couple of weeks. This lifted my spirits a little.
Over those few days I don’t know what I would have done without Grant, Stephen and, believe it or not, Matt. They were around whenever I needed them but not fussing over me too much. Stephen and I continued to banter like 18 year olds, Grant spoke with his usual bluntness and Matt remained somewhere in the middle. He came and picked me up and took me to the gym insisting that working out would take my mind off things, and boy did it work.
I knew Matt probably knew what had happened but he never asked me if I wanted to talk about it. In a way, I preferred this. As you probably have gathered by now, I find it easier to ignore the bad shit that happens. Matt and I carried on just as we had before, and I found myself growing to consider him a good friend. He didn’t posses the effeminate nature of most of the fags about and he was into sport in a big way- both watching and playing.
When I came back from the gym on the Saturday after the ‘episode,’ Stephen greeted me in tears, Grant was beaming a smile behind him.
“What’s happened?” I asked confused by the mixture of smiles and crying.
“Grant and I are getting married!” Stephen squealed.
“Oh, you’re not crying cuz you’re upset then? I would be if I was marrying that!”
We all laughed.
“I’m crying because I’m so happy!” Stephen squealed again in a pitch that could have made dogs’ ears bleed.
“Oh good. Congratulations!”
Grant came over and gave me a hug, Stephen joined in too.
“I have a question for you too,” Grant looked at me seriously.
“Bigamy is illegal here,” I joked.
“Shut up and listen, you twat.”
I looked at Grant trying not to laugh too much.
“Will you be my best man?”
I smiled the biggest smile I’d managed for years. “Of course! I’d be honoured.”
He pulled me in again for another hug- I felt so happy for them both.
“Who are you asking, Stephen?”
“You remember Tyrone? He’s already said yes.”
“Cool, cool.” I didn’t really know Tyrone that well but he was an old boyfriend of Stephen’s who had made the successful, but rare, transition from lover to friend.
“We’ve got to do something to celebrate!” I exclaimed like I was the one who was getting married.
“Already planned,” Grant confirmed with an authoritative, almost military-like, voice “a band of merry fags are coming over this evening for dinner and then we’re going out.”
“To Pretty?” I asked.
“Yes, Pretty. Where else? You’re coming right?”
“If I must. I’ll dig out the anti-fag spray and my chastity belt- I’ve just got it back from the welders; they’ve reinforced the ass plate.”
Grant rolled his eyes. “You’re a tiresome fucker, Ernie.” Then he laughed.
“But that’s why you love me.”
“Like an old dog,” he clapped his hand on my shoulder.
“What time are they coming over?”
“In about an hour and a half. Plenty of time for you to pull your steel pants on and get the padlocks done up.”
“Cool, cool. I think I’ll have a lie down first- I’m pooped from the gym.”
“Did Matt wear you out?” Stephen injected.
I just laughed. “Is he coming tonight?”
“Of course!” said Stephen with a grin that looked like it was hiding one motherfucker of a secret.
“Oh good.” I said.
***
I’d literally just dropped of to sleep when Stephen knocked at my door.
“Oi, sleeping beauty!” he called, barging in before I’d asked him to. “They’re going to be here in about half an hour and you stink of sweat.”
“It’s my masculine scent,” I replied as I sat up. “Not that you’d know anything about that.”
“Shut up and go and shower. As much as your musty smell might turn you on- the gays aren’t into that.”
“Sounds as good a reason as any not to go and shower.”
He chucked a towel at me. “Get in before I throw you in.”
“Ok faggy. I’m going.”
And with that, he left.
In the shower, I took time to reflect on all the things that had happened in the last two weeks. I’d moved out of, and sold, my home. Found a new place that I had fallen in love with and was now waiting to move in. Joined a gym, gained a new friend, nearly lost my mind, had a bust up with my best friend and found out that my best friend’s partner had a crush on me. I’d seen a psychologist, had attempted sex with a hot woman, not been able to get an erection and subsequently been the laughing stock of the workplace. I’d relived one of the worst moments of my life and had, for two or three days, become a nervous wreck. My life had NEVER been this eventful before.
I also kept reliving that awful ‘episode’ in my head but the images were gradually fading and being replaced with the real memory which, although not pleasant, was a hell of a lot more peaceful. I’d been taking some tablets that Hillard prescribed and he had also left a leaflet which didn’t really help much- all it said was that each day should get easier; don’t rush trying to get back to ‘normality,’ and that the rehabilitation process is different for everyone. Even I could have told you that!
By the time I’d got dressed the house was, once again, crawling with fagmites.
The same crowd as the previous Saturday night had joined us (Shit! Was that only a week ago?) and Grant had cooked a delicious meal. I sat next to Tyrone and took some time to get to know him as I figured I’d be seeing a lot of him in the coming months. He seemed like a nice guy- very much like Stephen but taller, a little thinner and he was black. He was a lawyer and had graduated at the top of his class from a very prestigious college. He was dating Rob, who was sat on the other side of Tyrone.
Next to me, Matt seemed very quiet and had hardly touched his meal.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, when my conversation with Tyrone had reached a natural conclusion.
“Oh nothing. Well, something, but nothing I want to talk about.”
“I’m asking because I want to help.”
“Ernie, don’t,” he looked my straight in the eye. “I’ve not bothered you about your troubles this past week. So when I say I don’t want to talk about it, please don’t force me to.”
“Shit, you’re right. Sorry.”
“It’s ok,” he tried to smile but I could see tears welling up in his eyes.
I put my hand on his shoulder- he pushed it away.
***
Grant, Rob, Chase and Tyrone were in the kitchen tidying up and Stephen had gone to talk to Matt who’d disappeared to the bathroom. I’d been left at the dinner table, making some extremely monotonous small talk with Michael about the library he worked in.
I was relieved, but concerned when Stephen came in with a serious look on his face and asked me if he could “have a word.” Matt had asked him to tell me why he was so upset at dinner; I wasn’t prepared for the story.
Matt had got home from work just hours earlier to find his Dad hitting his Mum, he’d gone in and stopped his Dad and taken his mum to his grandmother’s house. He’d wanted to stay there but his mum had asked him to leave, as she ‘didn’t want him involved.’ He had nowhere else to go, so he’d come here, as it was the only thing he could think about doing.
Without saying anything to Stephen, I headed upstairs and found Matt in the bathroom. He looked surprisingly calm, I don’t know if I could have maintained his composure for that long- sadness I can conceal, anger is a different matter.
“Y’alright kiddo?”
He nodded.
“Look,” I continued “Stephen’s just told me everything, you did the right thing. Your mum is going to be ok tonight, she’s in a safe place with someone that loves her and will look out for her too.”
He nodded again.
“She’s a grown woman. She’ll make the right decision.”
He shrugged his shoulders.
“Look, you’re not going to stay here on your own. I’ll drive into town; I can’t drink on these tablets anyway. It’ll take your mind off things but, whenever you want to leave, just say and I’ll get you back here. Deal?” I held out my hand and he shook it.
“Come on then kid, let’s find you a man of questionable morality to make you feel better.”
I laughed. He didn’t.
Pretty was no different to usual; a sea of orange skin and over-styled blonde hair. Call me old, but is there any need to wear sunglasses in the dark? The gays had got a taxi and Matt and I met them in the club. When we arrived they were already dancing to some indentikit pop song with a lot of bass and whirring noises in the background.
I ordered water for me and a beer for Matt. I liked the fact that he drank beer; it made him seem more my type of guy. Especially amongst the throng of near-anorexic looking boys drinking bottled liquids of a colour you’d never find in nature.
We didn’t see much of the others all night. Matt stayed near my side all night- he didn’t talk much but I didn’t expect him to. He only left me when his mum rang to thank him and tell him she was fine (this made him smile a bit more,) and when Stephen dragged him away to dance to another song that sounded just like the last one, but he came back pretty quickly as soon as the song had ended.
At about 1:30am, I started yawning.
“Do you want to go?” Matt asked.
“I’m pretty beat, but you should stay.”
“I think if I drink any more I’ll turn into one of those teary prom queens.”
“Only if you’re sure.”
“Yeah. I’m not really a great fan of gay clubs anyway.”
We said our goodbyes to the others and left. None of them gave us a hard time about leaving as they understood we’d both had a pretty rough time lately.
We arrived back and I told Matt he could have my bed.
“I’ll take the sofa, you need a good night’s sleep.”
“Are you sure Ernie? The sofa is really fucking uncomfortable- I know from last weekend.”
“Yeah, it’s fine.”
“Why don’t we share your bed? It’s a good enough size for two to sleep in without being too close.”
“I dunno, Matt.”
“I’m not going to rape you or anything,” he smiled “contrary to popular rumour, not all queers are sex obsessed fiends.”
I smiled, “Ok, as long as you promise not to rape me. Not that I could do much to stop someone of your size.”
“I promise,” he smiled, holding up his hand like a boy scout.
“Good.”
Matt took the side of the bed nearest the wall and I had the other side. He was right, there was more than enough room and space still left in the middle.
“Ernie,”
“Yeah.”
“Thanks for tonight, I owe you one.”
“No you don’t kiddo. That’s what friends are for.”
He was silent.
“You ok?” I asked.
“Yeah,” he said “just smilin’”
I smiled too.
“Night kiddo.”
“Night Ernelia.”
I threw my pillow at him. He didn’t throw it back.
harry113
JUB Addict
Great Jobbio, Thanks.
Matt & Ernie??
We shall see !!
More please
Harry
Matt & Ernie??
We shall see !!
More please
Harry
Jobbio:
You've become quite the prolific author. Are you between terms, or just figure out how to juggle a bit at the moment?
Great chapter. I see a nice, solid friendship and more budding between these two.
You've continued to develop the story very thoughtfully, realistically. The characters are nice guys/gals?! with all their individual quirks, and our principal protagonist seems to be coming around a bit from his frump.
Having someone else to help is frequently good therapy for me when I'm not quite 100%.
Thanks, again, for your continued efforts, Jobbio.
Guys, if you haven't already, please take the time to rate this great story, so we attract more readers to Jobbio's Flat.
You've become quite the prolific author. Are you between terms, or just figure out how to juggle a bit at the moment?
Great chapter. I see a nice, solid friendship and more budding between these two.
You've continued to develop the story very thoughtfully, realistically. The characters are nice guys/gals?! with all their individual quirks, and our principal protagonist seems to be coming around a bit from his frump.
Having someone else to help is frequently good therapy for me when I'm not quite 100%.
Thanks, again, for your continued efforts, Jobbio.
Guys, if you haven't already, please take the time to rate this great story, so we attract more readers to Jobbio's Flat.
Yeah, between terms now so I have time to get a few things done. I'll try and get another couple of chapters up before I go back to work next week.
You say they're nice people but I, personally, think Ernie is a bit of a prick, albeit one you cannot help but like.
It's funny that you say they are all nice characters; in a few chapters time, you are going to see a very nasty side of someone you've come to know and love. It's not going to be pleasant.
You say they're nice people but I, personally, think Ernie is a bit of a prick, albeit one you cannot help but like.
It's funny that you say they are all nice characters; in a few chapters time, you are going to see a very nasty side of someone you've come to know and love. It's not going to be pleasant.
Craiger
JUB Addict
It's interesting that you say that about Ernie. I don't see him so much as a prick, but as a typical straight man trying to keep up with his gay friends. It seems he can bitch it up with the best and the only thing that puts a negative touch to him is his overly "I'm straight" attitude. But what can you expect from someone that has gone through the last few years of turmoil not really knowing who or what he is.
You speak of some nasty side of someone coming up in future chapters. This is why I really enjoy the story. It is following real life, not some sterile gay soap opera with tons of sex. Kudos to you, Jobbio.
Craiger
Chapter 8- Bad News, Good News and Somewhere in The Middle.
When I awoke the next morning, Matt had gone but he’d left a note behind. It read:
Morning Hetero,
Thanks for everything last night, I know you were just being a friend but it really meant a lot to me.
Mum called this morning and is going to go round to the house later to collect some things and perhaps talk to Dad- she says she still hasn’t made up her mind about what to do but she’s going to spend some time away from him. She’s asked me to go with her later just to make sure Dad doesn’t do anything stupid.
Stephen and Grant have already said I can stay for as long as I need to seeing there’s not much room at my Grandmother’s, so I guess I’ll see you this evening and I can fill you in from there.
Thanks so much, once again.
Kiddo. ☺
Shit, I felt absolutely terrible for the kid, there were blotches all over the paper where he’d clearly been crying. I tried to call him but his phone went straight to voicemail; I decided not to leave a message.
Tyrone and Rob had crashed out on the floor of the lounge and Grant was in the kitchen, as usual.
“Want some eggs?” he enquired.
“Yeah, please. Did you guys have a good night?”
“It was…errr...interesting.”
“Oh, spill the beans.”
“Well, just after you left, Rob’s ex showed up. He’s still a bit bitter cuz, although they’d been together for 2 years, Rob was dating Tyrone within a week of them breaking up.”
“Ouch,”
“Yeah, he was absolutely wasted and saw Rob dancing with Tyrone so he went over and tried to pull Tyrone off Rob. As I’m sure you can imagine, Tyrone didn’t take this very well. He didn’t say a word- just punched him in the face; knocked him out cold. To look at him, you wouldn’t think he had it in him, but boy can he punch- I don’t think even I’d try fighting him now.”
“Oh shit, what happened then?”
“Well, an ambulance was called- but not really needed. Tyrone was given a stern talking to by the bouncers but was allowed to stay. Needless to say, that put a dampener on the rest of the evening so we left pretty soon after. How was your evening?”
“Yeah, it was fine.”
“I think Matt’s taken quite a shine to you,” he grinned.
“He has?”
“You were the envy of most of the guys in that place last night. Matt is grade ‘A’ gay hottie material.”
“Fuck off. You know there’s no way I’d ever go with another guy.”
“Just saying. But please go careful with him, Ernie, he’s in a fucking delicate place at the moment. I know you’re going to have to let him down, but do it with some tact.”
“He’s not the only one in a delicate place,” I laughed. “I’ll try and have a word with him this evening; let him know where the land lies.”
“Just wait and see how he is when he gets back. He’s taking his Mum back to the house to get some things today.”
“Yeah, I know- he left me a note.”
Grant grinned, “Aah, the start of the perfect relationship.”
“Fuck off,” I laughed.
Stephen came downstairs for some food and as we were eating our eggs, Tyrone emerged from the lounge.
“Guards up, boys. Here comes Rocky,” Grant quipped.
“You know,” replied Tyrone quick as a flash “that’s almost as funny as your giant head, Grant.”
We all laughed, including Grant.
Tyrone recounted his version of events from the night before, pretty much identical to what Grant had told me. It came as a shock though when he told us that Rob’s ex had been harassing him since they'd got together and, being a lawyer, had kept all the texts and voicemails just in case. He knew that if the ex tried to press charges, the evidence he’d kept against him would go someway towards justifying his actions.
“He won’t press charges anyway,” Tyrone said confidently, “the dumb bastard doesn’t even know the number for 911.”
We all laughed again.
Rob surfaced a few minutes later and we spent the rest of the day sunning ourselves in the garden. It was nice to take a couple of hours off, I think it was the first time in the last few weeks that I allowed my mind a bit of time to relax and become clear of worry.
Rob and Tyrone left about 4 o’clock as they had somewhere to be. Stephen spent most of the afternoon inside, looking at venues for their wedding. They’d drunkenly decided during last nights celebrations that there wasn’t really any point waiting and were going to do it as soon as they could arrange it.
Matt returned home just after 7 o’clock. Surprisingly, he didn’t look too bad as he came out to join us in the last of the evening sun.
“How did it go, kiddo?” I sounded like I was faking the concern.
“Fine. Dad wasn’t in so it made it a lot easier, although I think Mum wanted to talk to him. She’d wanted to wait around but I convinced her that it might not be the best idea in case he felt like we were ambushing him.”
“How was she?” Stephen had joined us and was sitting with his arm around Matt’s shoulders.
“Difficult to tell, I think she’s going to go back to him. It’s the first time it’s happened and I think she’s convinced herself it won’t happen again.” He started crying now, it was almost too much to take in.
“Did she say what happened?” Stephen asked.
“They were…arguing,” he fought back more tears and tried to catch his breath, “they were…arguing…arguing about…about….me.” He completely broke down. Stephen pulled him into his shoulder and let him cry.
“I’ll go get some alcohol,” Grant got up and went inside; he was even worse with emotions than I was.
Eventually Matt composed himself and told us the rest of the story.
“One of dad’s friends found out I was gay and they started giving him hell for it saying shit like ‘I can’t believe you’ve raised a fag.’ He flipped and when he got home he started packing my stuff into bags. Mum turned up and caught him- I know she’s not that happy with me being gay but she still loves me. Anyway, she went mad and tried to make him see sense. But my Dad hates being shouted at and lost his temper. He went to leave but she followed him downstairs. He turned round and grabbed her round the neck and slapped her across the face…that’s when I walked in and he let her go.” Despite his emotions he told the story in a very matter-of-fact way.
“Sorry,” I whispered patting his knee.
“S’ok,” he replied with a small smile.
“Who wants a beer?” shouted Grant emerging from the house as if he’d timed it to avoid the emotional story.
We all cracked a beer open and sat silently in the sun. The silence was broken by Matt’s phone ringing. We could only hear one side of the phone call.
“Hi Mum…Yeah, I’m fine…How are you?...Oh, ok…You’re there now?...Right, what’s he said?...Well he should damn well be apologising…No, I’ll wait ‘til I see him before I speak to him…Ok….Ok…I’ll see you tomorrow then…Love you too.”
He looked at us all “She went back round, I knew she would. Dad’s apologised and asked her to move back in. She said she’s going to take tonight to think about it, but I know she’ll go back. She wants me to come back too, I think I need to be there- just in case.”
“I’m not sure that’s the best idea, Matt,” Stephen declared.
“It’s not perfect, but I’m not going to leave her there on her own.”
“I think you’re being sensible,” I was appalled by how patronising I sounded.
“Thanks, Ernie. Well, looks like I’ll be out of your hair tomorrow then,” he sounded resigned.
We spent the rest of the evening watching a DVD. Stephen and Grant headed to bed and left Matt and I in the lounge.
“All good, kiddo?”
“Yeah, I s’pose. Just worried about mum really.”
“Look, the best thing you can do is be there for her. You’re doing the right thing but next time, I mean- if there is a next time, you have to call the cops straight away, you understand?”
“Yeah, I hope it won’t come to that though.”
“I’m sure it won’t,” I tried to sound reassuring, he probably saw right through it. “Right, come on then Kiddo, it’s time for bed,” I said as I got to my feet.
“That’s the best offer I’d had in ages,” he smiled.
“Same stipulation as last night though,” I grinned, “No rape.”
“No rape,” he agreed. “Umm…Ernie… I’ve got to tell you something I think you should know.”
I wasn’t expecting him to talk about this right now. “It’s cool Matt, I know. I’d have a crush on me too if I were a fag.”
He looked like he was about to get hit by a truck. “Although you’re right, it’s not actually about that?”
“It’s not?” fuck, I sounded a fool.
“I think you’d better sit down, I’m not sure how to say it.”
“Just come right out with it then, no sugar coating.” I had no idea what he was about to say.
“Uh…well…last night I woke up and I was a bit closer to you than I’d planned to be. Well, that’s a lie, you were a bit closer to me than you’d planned to be.”
“Oh shit, hugging?”
“Yeah, hugging.” He smiled, “something else too, I wasn’t going to tell you but I thought it’s was important. I was laying on my back and you were hugging against my side…”
“Yeah, I’m sorry…I’m a huggy sleeper, what can I say? If it wasn’t you, it would’ve been the pillow that you stole.”
He smiled. “Ernie, shut the fuck up and listen for a second, you’re making this more awkward than it needs to be.”
“Sorry,” I made a zipping motion at my mouth.
“As I was lying there, I felt something pushing against my thigh. I thought it was your hand, but they were both above the covers. So… umm…”
It dawned on me, what he was about to say. “But that’s impossible, Matt.”
“I thought so too, after what happened with that chick from your office. But, I’m 99% sure that you had a boner, Ernie.”
I sat in silence.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I thought you’d want to know.”
I said nothing and left the room.
When I awoke the next morning, Matt had gone but he’d left a note behind. It read:
Morning Hetero,
Thanks for everything last night, I know you were just being a friend but it really meant a lot to me.
Mum called this morning and is going to go round to the house later to collect some things and perhaps talk to Dad- she says she still hasn’t made up her mind about what to do but she’s going to spend some time away from him. She’s asked me to go with her later just to make sure Dad doesn’t do anything stupid.
Stephen and Grant have already said I can stay for as long as I need to seeing there’s not much room at my Grandmother’s, so I guess I’ll see you this evening and I can fill you in from there.
Thanks so much, once again.
Kiddo. ☺
Shit, I felt absolutely terrible for the kid, there were blotches all over the paper where he’d clearly been crying. I tried to call him but his phone went straight to voicemail; I decided not to leave a message.
Tyrone and Rob had crashed out on the floor of the lounge and Grant was in the kitchen, as usual.
“Want some eggs?” he enquired.
“Yeah, please. Did you guys have a good night?”
“It was…errr...interesting.”
“Oh, spill the beans.”
“Well, just after you left, Rob’s ex showed up. He’s still a bit bitter cuz, although they’d been together for 2 years, Rob was dating Tyrone within a week of them breaking up.”
“Ouch,”
“Yeah, he was absolutely wasted and saw Rob dancing with Tyrone so he went over and tried to pull Tyrone off Rob. As I’m sure you can imagine, Tyrone didn’t take this very well. He didn’t say a word- just punched him in the face; knocked him out cold. To look at him, you wouldn’t think he had it in him, but boy can he punch- I don’t think even I’d try fighting him now.”
“Oh shit, what happened then?”
“Well, an ambulance was called- but not really needed. Tyrone was given a stern talking to by the bouncers but was allowed to stay. Needless to say, that put a dampener on the rest of the evening so we left pretty soon after. How was your evening?”
“Yeah, it was fine.”
“I think Matt’s taken quite a shine to you,” he grinned.
“He has?”
“You were the envy of most of the guys in that place last night. Matt is grade ‘A’ gay hottie material.”
“Fuck off. You know there’s no way I’d ever go with another guy.”
“Just saying. But please go careful with him, Ernie, he’s in a fucking delicate place at the moment. I know you’re going to have to let him down, but do it with some tact.”
“He’s not the only one in a delicate place,” I laughed. “I’ll try and have a word with him this evening; let him know where the land lies.”
“Just wait and see how he is when he gets back. He’s taking his Mum back to the house to get some things today.”
“Yeah, I know- he left me a note.”
Grant grinned, “Aah, the start of the perfect relationship.”
“Fuck off,” I laughed.
Stephen came downstairs for some food and as we were eating our eggs, Tyrone emerged from the lounge.
“Guards up, boys. Here comes Rocky,” Grant quipped.
“You know,” replied Tyrone quick as a flash “that’s almost as funny as your giant head, Grant.”
We all laughed, including Grant.
Tyrone recounted his version of events from the night before, pretty much identical to what Grant had told me. It came as a shock though when he told us that Rob’s ex had been harassing him since they'd got together and, being a lawyer, had kept all the texts and voicemails just in case. He knew that if the ex tried to press charges, the evidence he’d kept against him would go someway towards justifying his actions.
“He won’t press charges anyway,” Tyrone said confidently, “the dumb bastard doesn’t even know the number for 911.”
We all laughed again.
Rob surfaced a few minutes later and we spent the rest of the day sunning ourselves in the garden. It was nice to take a couple of hours off, I think it was the first time in the last few weeks that I allowed my mind a bit of time to relax and become clear of worry.
Rob and Tyrone left about 4 o’clock as they had somewhere to be. Stephen spent most of the afternoon inside, looking at venues for their wedding. They’d drunkenly decided during last nights celebrations that there wasn’t really any point waiting and were going to do it as soon as they could arrange it.
Matt returned home just after 7 o’clock. Surprisingly, he didn’t look too bad as he came out to join us in the last of the evening sun.
“How did it go, kiddo?” I sounded like I was faking the concern.
“Fine. Dad wasn’t in so it made it a lot easier, although I think Mum wanted to talk to him. She’d wanted to wait around but I convinced her that it might not be the best idea in case he felt like we were ambushing him.”
“How was she?” Stephen had joined us and was sitting with his arm around Matt’s shoulders.
“Difficult to tell, I think she’s going to go back to him. It’s the first time it’s happened and I think she’s convinced herself it won’t happen again.” He started crying now, it was almost too much to take in.
“Did she say what happened?” Stephen asked.
“They were…arguing,” he fought back more tears and tried to catch his breath, “they were…arguing…arguing about…about….me.” He completely broke down. Stephen pulled him into his shoulder and let him cry.
“I’ll go get some alcohol,” Grant got up and went inside; he was even worse with emotions than I was.
Eventually Matt composed himself and told us the rest of the story.
“One of dad’s friends found out I was gay and they started giving him hell for it saying shit like ‘I can’t believe you’ve raised a fag.’ He flipped and when he got home he started packing my stuff into bags. Mum turned up and caught him- I know she’s not that happy with me being gay but she still loves me. Anyway, she went mad and tried to make him see sense. But my Dad hates being shouted at and lost his temper. He went to leave but she followed him downstairs. He turned round and grabbed her round the neck and slapped her across the face…that’s when I walked in and he let her go.” Despite his emotions he told the story in a very matter-of-fact way.
“Sorry,” I whispered patting his knee.
“S’ok,” he replied with a small smile.
“Who wants a beer?” shouted Grant emerging from the house as if he’d timed it to avoid the emotional story.
We all cracked a beer open and sat silently in the sun. The silence was broken by Matt’s phone ringing. We could only hear one side of the phone call.
“Hi Mum…Yeah, I’m fine…How are you?...Oh, ok…You’re there now?...Right, what’s he said?...Well he should damn well be apologising…No, I’ll wait ‘til I see him before I speak to him…Ok….Ok…I’ll see you tomorrow then…Love you too.”
He looked at us all “She went back round, I knew she would. Dad’s apologised and asked her to move back in. She said she’s going to take tonight to think about it, but I know she’ll go back. She wants me to come back too, I think I need to be there- just in case.”
“I’m not sure that’s the best idea, Matt,” Stephen declared.
“It’s not perfect, but I’m not going to leave her there on her own.”
“I think you’re being sensible,” I was appalled by how patronising I sounded.
“Thanks, Ernie. Well, looks like I’ll be out of your hair tomorrow then,” he sounded resigned.
We spent the rest of the evening watching a DVD. Stephen and Grant headed to bed and left Matt and I in the lounge.
“All good, kiddo?”
“Yeah, I s’pose. Just worried about mum really.”
“Look, the best thing you can do is be there for her. You’re doing the right thing but next time, I mean- if there is a next time, you have to call the cops straight away, you understand?”
“Yeah, I hope it won’t come to that though.”
“I’m sure it won’t,” I tried to sound reassuring, he probably saw right through it. “Right, come on then Kiddo, it’s time for bed,” I said as I got to my feet.
“That’s the best offer I’d had in ages,” he smiled.
“Same stipulation as last night though,” I grinned, “No rape.”
“No rape,” he agreed. “Umm…Ernie… I’ve got to tell you something I think you should know.”
I wasn’t expecting him to talk about this right now. “It’s cool Matt, I know. I’d have a crush on me too if I were a fag.”
He looked like he was about to get hit by a truck. “Although you’re right, it’s not actually about that?”
“It’s not?” fuck, I sounded a fool.
“I think you’d better sit down, I’m not sure how to say it.”
“Just come right out with it then, no sugar coating.” I had no idea what he was about to say.
“Uh…well…last night I woke up and I was a bit closer to you than I’d planned to be. Well, that’s a lie, you were a bit closer to me than you’d planned to be.”
“Oh shit, hugging?”
“Yeah, hugging.” He smiled, “something else too, I wasn’t going to tell you but I thought it’s was important. I was laying on my back and you were hugging against my side…”
“Yeah, I’m sorry…I’m a huggy sleeper, what can I say? If it wasn’t you, it would’ve been the pillow that you stole.”
He smiled. “Ernie, shut the fuck up and listen for a second, you’re making this more awkward than it needs to be.”
“Sorry,” I made a zipping motion at my mouth.
“As I was lying there, I felt something pushing against my thigh. I thought it was your hand, but they were both above the covers. So… umm…”
It dawned on me, what he was about to say. “But that’s impossible, Matt.”
“I thought so too, after what happened with that chick from your office. But, I’m 99% sure that you had a boner, Ernie.”
I sat in silence.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I thought you’d want to know.”
I said nothing and left the room.
harry113
JUB Addict
Oooo Jobbio !! What I said before (hehe)!
More please, excellent writing
Harry
More please, excellent writing
Harry
Jobbio,
And the intrigue continues! Great continuation, circumstances.
I'm enjoying your artistry very much.
Thanks for taking the time to write so much and so well for us.
And the intrigue continues! Great continuation, circumstances.
I'm enjoying your artistry very much.
Thanks for taking the time to write so much and so well for us.
This story is great! You are an exceptional writer. I look forward to more :]
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Thanks to you all for your kind words, again. I'm glad you're enjoying this story.
Apologies that the chapters are becoming a bit dialogue heavy of late, there's just a lot to say and talk about at the moment.
The action is coming. I'll try and get the next chapter up over the weekend, it might be the last one for a while, but now I know people are actually enjoying this, it's giving me a bit more impetus to keep going with it.
Chapter 9- Awakenings
I didn’t know what the fuck to think. If it had been a hardon, I was relieved to know that it was still a possibility. But getting one while pressed up against a guy? A fucking guy? What the fuck was all that about? There’s absolutely no way I’m a fag, that’s completely out of the question. But, something’s obviously going on… In my head, I was trying to be angry at Matt; to blame him for what had happened, but I couldn’t.
He knocked on the door about ten minutes after I’d walked off.
“Come in…”
He didn’t make eye contact as he entered the room; his eyes were focussed on his bag. “I’ve just come to get my things so I don’t disturb you in the morning when I leave,” now his eyes met mine, “I’m sorry, Ernie.”
“Put your bag down, you’ve got nothing to be sorry for.”
“I shouldn’t have told you, should I?”
“I don’t know, Matt. In a way, I’m glad you did.”
“You are?”
“Yeah, at least I know it’s not completely broken.”
He laughed, “I’m gonna sleep on the sofa, Ernie.”
“No you’re not. Get into bed.”
He smiled; he had a good smile. “Thanks,” and he hopped into bed.
***
I could have been asleep for five minutes; it could have been five hours when Matt shook me awake.
“Ernie,” he whispered.
I slowly came to my senses, something felt different.
I was, once again, snuggled in close to Matt but that wasn’t the reason he’d woke me up. An unfamiliar ache in my groin made me realise why he’d roused me.
Slowly, I reached my right hand under the blanket, down towards my crotch. I slid my hand under the elastic of my PJ bottoms, brushed past my rough bush of pubes and felt, for the first time in what seemed like a life time, my stiff cock. Boy, did it feel good, it wasn’t just warm to the touch, it was hot- I could almost feel the blood pumping inside it.
“Now I’m 100% sure,” Matt interrupted my exploration which had lasted no longer than 5 seconds. “Do you want me to leave you for a bit?”
I just laughed, he took that as his cue and disappeared out of the door.
My hand automatically slid back to my cock and gripped the fat base. I slid it up to the head and twisted- it felt better than anything I’d experienced in the last nine years. My mind wandered back to the first time I’d masturbated, many years ago although this felt better- there was much less guilt and a feeling of freedom.
I already wanted to cum so badly, but I’d only just started. My mind searched for images and stopped on Sandra.
Those pert tits and her hot body, I remembered the way she bit my neck and the sound of her moans as I did the same for her. I saw her standing over me and then lying on the bed underneath me with her legs apart in almost the same way Debbie was lying when she was in labour…Then I saw Debbie underneath me, but not in Sandra’s room. We were back and the hospital. I heard Debbie’s screams again, she was in pain- I was now in the corridor and could see her through the window of the unyielding door. My hand was, once again, bleeding from my futile attempts to get to my wife and daughter.
Debbie screamed.
I screamed.
I heard a baby cry.
But only once.
My dick had gone soft under my PJ’s and I was crying again. Matt came through the door and turned the lights on.
“Ernie, are you ok? I heard you crying.”
I said nothing. I just sat there, crying. I couldn’t look at him.
“Ernie?” He came over to the bed and sat down beside me. For reasons that I still can’t quite work out, I hugged him. He hugged me back and everything felt better.
It took me a while to compose myself, but I managed to tell Matt what had happened. It reminded me of what Dr. Hillard had said about how my mind was programmed to feel guilt towards women and, although this hadn’t been a pleasant experience, it was a hell of a lot less traumatic than what had happened in the office.
“Do you think you should go back and see him?” Matt asked.
“Nah, I’ll leave a message that it’s happened again but he told me to expect it.”
“Just take your time, Ernie.”
“Yeah, I know kiddo. But, when you’ve not got it up for nine years you expect there to be fireworks and celebrations when you actually do.”
“Do you want me to bake you a cake? I could write “Congratulations on your erection,” I’ll ice it blue and shape it like a Viagra tablet, if you like?”
“You cheeky prick,” I punched his arm.
“Sorry,” he looked genuinely apologetic.
“I’m joking, kiddo. I like that fact that you make light of things, it helps me see that my problems aren’t that serious…” I stopped before I put my foot in it.
“Yeah, sometimes you have to laugh these things off.”
“You’re a great kid, Matt. You know that? The more I spend time with you, the more I can see what a brilliant person you are.”
He smiled his good smile. “Thanks, Ernie. You know, it’s weird in a way- after I left the army, I didn’t think I’d feel comfortable around straight guys again. In hindsight, all they were trying to do was set me up from the beginning. But you’re different, yeah, you’re a dick sometimes” he smiled “but you seem to understand me.”
“You’re not gonna get all Miss Priss America on me, are you?”
“Only if you let me wear the tiara.”
“It would really suit you! Right, kiddo. You’d better get some sleep you’ve gotta be up for work soon.”
“Oh shit, yeah. I forgot about that!”
“How did you manage that?” I laughed
“Because, I was having a good time talking to you…Shit, that sounded gay.”
“If the shoe fits…”
“Night night, Ernelia.” He hugged me again and turned the lights off.
“Night kiddo.”
We lay in silence for a few seconds.
“Matt?”
“Yeah?”
“Just so you remember- No rape.”
He giggled “No rape. But if you continue to trespass on my territory, it’s fair game. Your ass is mine.”
We were crying with laughter as we fell asleep.
***
The next day passed without event. I was bored and itching to do something so I phoned work and told them I would be back in on Wednesday. This gave me a couple more days off to prepare myself for it. I wasn’t sure I could face Sandra, but I knew I would have to eventually so I thought I may as well dive in and get it over with.
I went to the gym later on in the day. I don’t know why, but I went at a time I knew Matt wouldn’t be there. I like the kid, don’t get me wrong, but he’s seen me at my most vulnerable and shared in something that should have been private to me. I felt like he was getting too involved with me and that I was also getting too involved with him. I knew he needed helping out but I needed to let him get on with it without me.
My life seemed to be like a metronome, ticking backwards and forwards between the positive and the negative. On the negative side, I’d had another mini-‘episode,’ but again- it was nowhere near the epic scale of the first. On the positive side, I had people there to look out for me and the working out was beginning to show some improvement. I was slowly noticing the return in some definition around my abs and pecs; my ass was starting to feel a bit firmer too.
I arrived home to find Grant out and Stephen watching some dreary evening magazine show on the TV. I dumped me gym bag in the hallway; the only place in the house where fly-tipping was allowed.
“Evening, hetero.”
“Evening fag! Where’s the boyfriend?”
“You mean my fiancé?” he squealed.
“It’s whatever…”
“Hmph- He’s out at a meeting.”
“Oh yeah, he did say.”
“How are you anyway?”
“I’m fine, I’m sure Matt told you about last night…”
“Last night? He’s mentioned nothing.”
Fuck, this meant I’d have to tell him.
I told him everything that had happened, from the conversation I’d had with Matt before bed to being woken in the night with an erection. I told him about my futile attempts at jerking off and then what had happened inside my head. He sat and listened attentively.
“Wow, sounds like quite an event,” he said when I’d finished talking. “Did you call Dr Hillard?”
“I sent him an email earlier, he replied by saying that relapses weren’t uncommon but I should be looking on the positive side of things in regard to my…well…y’know.”
“Yeah, definitely. It’s a good sign.”
“Yeah, I s’pose.”
Stephen’s phone rang; it was Matt. Stephen left the room.
“He’s fine,” he said as he came back in. “He’s at home with Mum and Dad; the atmosphere’s slightly tense but he said they’re being pleasant enough with one another.”
“Oh good,” I was still worried for him.
“He’ll be ok Ernie, you’ve seen the size of him. I don’t think his Dad would try anything with him.”
“Yeah, I know. I just hope he’s around if it happens again, his mum got lucky the first time around.”
“He wouldn’t let anything happen. Besides, it might just be a one-off thing, Matt said that’s it’s never happened before.”
“Yeah, I s’pose,” I wasn’t convinced. “Let’s get some food, otherwise your boyf…fiancé will be miserable when he gets in.”
“Good idea.”
Sure enough, thirty minutes later Grant came storming through the door with a face like a slapped ass and threw his bag down.
“Fuckin’ pointless meetings. A waste of fucking time just to sit round and listen about new plans for this and reinventing old plans for that. Spend most of the time having a meeting about another bloody meeting.”
“Good day?” I said in an overly breezy tone.
Grant just grunted at me.
Eating has always made Grant relax, so by the time we were halfway through the meal, he seemed almost normal again.
“Oh, Stephen,” Grant mumbled through a mouthful of food. “I had a phone call earlier, that venue we wanted have had a cancellation and have offered us the room. The catch is, the only available date is in just over a month.”
“A month? Well…yeah…why not?”
“I thought you’d say that, I’ll call them in the morning.”
They both smiled contently.
“A month isn’t much time guys,” I said.
“Yeah, but Chase is going to help- he’s a wedding planner. Did a wedding in two days once…” Stephen replied.
“Two days?”
“Yeah, said it was one of his best too.”
“He must be good.” I responded.
“He’d better be for the amount we’re paying,” snorted Grant. Stephen and I rolled our eyes.
Apologies that the chapters are becoming a bit dialogue heavy of late, there's just a lot to say and talk about at the moment.
The action is coming. I'll try and get the next chapter up over the weekend, it might be the last one for a while, but now I know people are actually enjoying this, it's giving me a bit more impetus to keep going with it.
Chapter 9- Awakenings
I didn’t know what the fuck to think. If it had been a hardon, I was relieved to know that it was still a possibility. But getting one while pressed up against a guy? A fucking guy? What the fuck was all that about? There’s absolutely no way I’m a fag, that’s completely out of the question. But, something’s obviously going on… In my head, I was trying to be angry at Matt; to blame him for what had happened, but I couldn’t.
He knocked on the door about ten minutes after I’d walked off.
“Come in…”
He didn’t make eye contact as he entered the room; his eyes were focussed on his bag. “I’ve just come to get my things so I don’t disturb you in the morning when I leave,” now his eyes met mine, “I’m sorry, Ernie.”
“Put your bag down, you’ve got nothing to be sorry for.”
“I shouldn’t have told you, should I?”
“I don’t know, Matt. In a way, I’m glad you did.”
“You are?”
“Yeah, at least I know it’s not completely broken.”
He laughed, “I’m gonna sleep on the sofa, Ernie.”
“No you’re not. Get into bed.”
He smiled; he had a good smile. “Thanks,” and he hopped into bed.
***
I could have been asleep for five minutes; it could have been five hours when Matt shook me awake.
“Ernie,” he whispered.
I slowly came to my senses, something felt different.
I was, once again, snuggled in close to Matt but that wasn’t the reason he’d woke me up. An unfamiliar ache in my groin made me realise why he’d roused me.
Slowly, I reached my right hand under the blanket, down towards my crotch. I slid my hand under the elastic of my PJ bottoms, brushed past my rough bush of pubes and felt, for the first time in what seemed like a life time, my stiff cock. Boy, did it feel good, it wasn’t just warm to the touch, it was hot- I could almost feel the blood pumping inside it.
“Now I’m 100% sure,” Matt interrupted my exploration which had lasted no longer than 5 seconds. “Do you want me to leave you for a bit?”
I just laughed, he took that as his cue and disappeared out of the door.
My hand automatically slid back to my cock and gripped the fat base. I slid it up to the head and twisted- it felt better than anything I’d experienced in the last nine years. My mind wandered back to the first time I’d masturbated, many years ago although this felt better- there was much less guilt and a feeling of freedom.
I already wanted to cum so badly, but I’d only just started. My mind searched for images and stopped on Sandra.
Those pert tits and her hot body, I remembered the way she bit my neck and the sound of her moans as I did the same for her. I saw her standing over me and then lying on the bed underneath me with her legs apart in almost the same way Debbie was lying when she was in labour…Then I saw Debbie underneath me, but not in Sandra’s room. We were back and the hospital. I heard Debbie’s screams again, she was in pain- I was now in the corridor and could see her through the window of the unyielding door. My hand was, once again, bleeding from my futile attempts to get to my wife and daughter.
Debbie screamed.
I screamed.
I heard a baby cry.
But only once.
My dick had gone soft under my PJ’s and I was crying again. Matt came through the door and turned the lights on.
“Ernie, are you ok? I heard you crying.”
I said nothing. I just sat there, crying. I couldn’t look at him.
“Ernie?” He came over to the bed and sat down beside me. For reasons that I still can’t quite work out, I hugged him. He hugged me back and everything felt better.
It took me a while to compose myself, but I managed to tell Matt what had happened. It reminded me of what Dr. Hillard had said about how my mind was programmed to feel guilt towards women and, although this hadn’t been a pleasant experience, it was a hell of a lot less traumatic than what had happened in the office.
“Do you think you should go back and see him?” Matt asked.
“Nah, I’ll leave a message that it’s happened again but he told me to expect it.”
“Just take your time, Ernie.”
“Yeah, I know kiddo. But, when you’ve not got it up for nine years you expect there to be fireworks and celebrations when you actually do.”
“Do you want me to bake you a cake? I could write “Congratulations on your erection,” I’ll ice it blue and shape it like a Viagra tablet, if you like?”
“You cheeky prick,” I punched his arm.
“Sorry,” he looked genuinely apologetic.
“I’m joking, kiddo. I like that fact that you make light of things, it helps me see that my problems aren’t that serious…” I stopped before I put my foot in it.
“Yeah, sometimes you have to laugh these things off.”
“You’re a great kid, Matt. You know that? The more I spend time with you, the more I can see what a brilliant person you are.”
He smiled his good smile. “Thanks, Ernie. You know, it’s weird in a way- after I left the army, I didn’t think I’d feel comfortable around straight guys again. In hindsight, all they were trying to do was set me up from the beginning. But you’re different, yeah, you’re a dick sometimes” he smiled “but you seem to understand me.”
“You’re not gonna get all Miss Priss America on me, are you?”
“Only if you let me wear the tiara.”
“It would really suit you! Right, kiddo. You’d better get some sleep you’ve gotta be up for work soon.”
“Oh shit, yeah. I forgot about that!”
“How did you manage that?” I laughed
“Because, I was having a good time talking to you…Shit, that sounded gay.”
“If the shoe fits…”
“Night night, Ernelia.” He hugged me again and turned the lights off.
“Night kiddo.”
We lay in silence for a few seconds.
“Matt?”
“Yeah?”
“Just so you remember- No rape.”
He giggled “No rape. But if you continue to trespass on my territory, it’s fair game. Your ass is mine.”
We were crying with laughter as we fell asleep.
***
The next day passed without event. I was bored and itching to do something so I phoned work and told them I would be back in on Wednesday. This gave me a couple more days off to prepare myself for it. I wasn’t sure I could face Sandra, but I knew I would have to eventually so I thought I may as well dive in and get it over with.
I went to the gym later on in the day. I don’t know why, but I went at a time I knew Matt wouldn’t be there. I like the kid, don’t get me wrong, but he’s seen me at my most vulnerable and shared in something that should have been private to me. I felt like he was getting too involved with me and that I was also getting too involved with him. I knew he needed helping out but I needed to let him get on with it without me.
My life seemed to be like a metronome, ticking backwards and forwards between the positive and the negative. On the negative side, I’d had another mini-‘episode,’ but again- it was nowhere near the epic scale of the first. On the positive side, I had people there to look out for me and the working out was beginning to show some improvement. I was slowly noticing the return in some definition around my abs and pecs; my ass was starting to feel a bit firmer too.
I arrived home to find Grant out and Stephen watching some dreary evening magazine show on the TV. I dumped me gym bag in the hallway; the only place in the house where fly-tipping was allowed.
“Evening, hetero.”
“Evening fag! Where’s the boyfriend?”
“You mean my fiancé?” he squealed.
“It’s whatever…”
“Hmph- He’s out at a meeting.”
“Oh yeah, he did say.”
“How are you anyway?”
“I’m fine, I’m sure Matt told you about last night…”
“Last night? He’s mentioned nothing.”
Fuck, this meant I’d have to tell him.
I told him everything that had happened, from the conversation I’d had with Matt before bed to being woken in the night with an erection. I told him about my futile attempts at jerking off and then what had happened inside my head. He sat and listened attentively.
“Wow, sounds like quite an event,” he said when I’d finished talking. “Did you call Dr Hillard?”
“I sent him an email earlier, he replied by saying that relapses weren’t uncommon but I should be looking on the positive side of things in regard to my…well…y’know.”
“Yeah, definitely. It’s a good sign.”
“Yeah, I s’pose.”
Stephen’s phone rang; it was Matt. Stephen left the room.
“He’s fine,” he said as he came back in. “He’s at home with Mum and Dad; the atmosphere’s slightly tense but he said they’re being pleasant enough with one another.”
“Oh good,” I was still worried for him.
“He’ll be ok Ernie, you’ve seen the size of him. I don’t think his Dad would try anything with him.”
“Yeah, I know. I just hope he’s around if it happens again, his mum got lucky the first time around.”
“He wouldn’t let anything happen. Besides, it might just be a one-off thing, Matt said that’s it’s never happened before.”
“Yeah, I s’pose,” I wasn’t convinced. “Let’s get some food, otherwise your boyf…fiancé will be miserable when he gets in.”
“Good idea.”
Sure enough, thirty minutes later Grant came storming through the door with a face like a slapped ass and threw his bag down.
“Fuckin’ pointless meetings. A waste of fucking time just to sit round and listen about new plans for this and reinventing old plans for that. Spend most of the time having a meeting about another bloody meeting.”
“Good day?” I said in an overly breezy tone.
Grant just grunted at me.
Eating has always made Grant relax, so by the time we were halfway through the meal, he seemed almost normal again.
“Oh, Stephen,” Grant mumbled through a mouthful of food. “I had a phone call earlier, that venue we wanted have had a cancellation and have offered us the room. The catch is, the only available date is in just over a month.”
“A month? Well…yeah…why not?”
“I thought you’d say that, I’ll call them in the morning.”
They both smiled contently.
“A month isn’t much time guys,” I said.
“Yeah, but Chase is going to help- he’s a wedding planner. Did a wedding in two days once…” Stephen replied.
“Two days?”
“Yeah, said it was one of his best too.”
“He must be good.” I responded.
“He’d better be for the amount we’re paying,” snorted Grant. Stephen and I rolled our eyes.
erasfred
Virgin
Just got onto this story and I have to leave my comment as well. A damn god story thus far. Can't wait for he rest. Well done.
