Exploring
The restaurant I worked in was this place off Burrard St, Le Vieux Canard. Why would you name a chic French restaurant 'the old duck'? Anyway, it was a pretty sweet place. The food was old-school French and I learned a lot about food and cooking working there. The owner, Mathilde, was the sweetest tyrant you'll ever meet. I guess you have to be hard as fuck to make a restaurant successful and this place had been successful for like twenty years since her father opened it. They had come over from France to get away from shitty relatives or something and started a new life.
It was a small place and I was one of three servers. I kind of shit-talked my way in, to tell the truth. I was so young and I didn't know a damn thing about French food, but one thing Mark will tell you about me is I can charm my way out of anything – or into anything, in this case. And I'm a fast learner. I spent a ton of time in the first week asking google all about French food and French service and wine...fuck the wine. There were so many kinds and Le Vieux Canard had shelves of bottles in the basement. Mathilde gave me a crash course in wine since it was the one thing I couldn't fake: being able to talk about wine. But she liked me and was patient and I learned a lot.
On a good night, I could make a lot of money. That was cool. I guess I'm charming, so I got good tips. And what surprised me was a few people wanted more from me than just bouillabaisse. Not that I took them up on it. No way. I had a good thing going so I didn't want to mess it up by getting my cock involved.
So back to when I first moved in to my place...I got up that first Saturday morning and I could smell coffee. That's a nice thing to wake up to. I put on my track pants and a t-shirt and put my futon in order and went out into the kitchen. There was Ilya. Holy fuck. I had almost forgotten what he looked like.
He turned when I came in and it was like the sun had just come out. I immediately felt unsure of myself, and wondered if I had something on my face. He smiled and said, “Good morning, Steve. You want some coffee?”
I wanted a lot of things from him, but one of them was indeed coffee. “Thanks, Ilya. And thanks again for agreeing to let me live here. It's an awesome little place.”
He shrugged and said, “You're welcome. It's small, but it will do.” He handed me a mug and I got some milk from the fridge. When I sat down at the little table, I watched his back at the stove. He was making eggs but all I could see was his ass. Stunning. He was in these form fitting running pants that accentuated everything. Nice, plump, toned, all the things. When he turned, his package was just there. I could practically see the outline of his cock. I felt both turned on and embarrassed because I just wasn't use to checking guys out and certainly not checking out how well their cocks looked in tight pants.
To distract myself, I got up and made toast. Then we sat at the table and talked about our lives. He was curious about how I ended up in Vancouver from Ontario. Good question, right? I told him I broke up with someone and had to get out. I decided not to specify which gender to see what he would do with that. I mean, come on? Of course I was already trying figure out how to see what was under those running pants. But also, I realized, he was such a charming guy. Like a really nice, charming guy. I was amazed at the insta-crush I had on him which is a feeling I hadn't had since I met Susan, frankly and certainly never for a man. And not just because he was gorgeous. It was his gentle voice, his crazy smart brain. And yes, his ass.
He looked at me sympathetically when I told him about having to leave because of a breakup. He said, “It took me a while to get over my last relationship.” He stopped for a second, sipping his coffee. “Actually, I think I'm still getting over it.”
Interesting. I had to be careful. I couldn't mess with someone still hurting from that, now could I? And I could tell somehow that his story was complicated. I also had the thought that who in the fuck in their right mind would break up with this guy? An impossibly beautiful, smart, doctor-in-training? They must be nuts or blind.
We spent the morning talking and getting to know one another, and he put on some nice music. He was into very chill acid-jazz kind of stuff that I quickly learned to love. And he appreciated my more eclectic taste since I seemed to go between old-school rock, brainy electronica and jazz standards, depending on my mood. When I put some Chet Baker on, he gave me this look. It was hard to read. Like approval but also he almost looked like he was in pain. I stored that away for future reference.
We went out after lunch and bought groceries and talked more. For such a quiet dude, he had a wicked sense of humour. All sly and dry and sometimes it was hard to know if he was being serious. I think it's a Russian thing. He was born there, he told me, but came here when he was five. But his parents – both nuclear physicists or some damn thing like that - never really learned English very well.
That night, we made dinner together. Did I mention the crush I had on him? Yeah. It was hard to just be chill in the kitchen with him and not fantasize about romantic dinners in our little cottage in the mountains, with long nights of sex and declarations of love. It was, frankly, annoying and distracting and I kept having to mentally kick myself in the nuts. But we had a nice meal and I think he felt better knowing I wasn't going to be a psycho roommate. He said he had had a few of those in the past.
After we had cleaned up, he said he had to get ready to go to the hospital, since he had a night shift. I knew what kind of lives med students had. Really gruelling. When he was ready to head off, already wearing his scrubs which only made his ass look better, he turned to me and touched my arm really casually and softly and gave me a little smile. I melted. I fucking dissolved all over the floor. Then he turned and left.
I didn't see him for most of the week. He left me notes sometimes about us not having milk or asking if I could buy bread. That was the only evidence of him I had for days, other than knowing that he was asleep behind his closed bedroom door.
So I threw myself into being a waiter. It wasn't going to be my career like the two middle-aged dudes I worked with. They were kind of snotty and distant, and I don't think they liked me. I assume they thought I slept with Mathilde in order to get the job, but they were polite. And I made better tips than they did, so fuck-em.
After my shift a week later, I decided to treat myself to a Friday martini. I went to a hip neighbourhood place that had a pretty poly-sexual reputation according to Dr Google. But it was also a cool, elegant little place. Oh sure, I could have gone to some bar in boystown and that would have been fun, but I like a little more sophistication.
I sat there for a while with my drink, just chilling at the bar. But I was hoping for some attention, truth be told. Don't get me wrong, I was also scared to get attention. From guys, I mean. I wanted it, but actually getting it? And more to the point, I had no idea what to do when I got it. I know, I know, it can't be that different than straight people picking each other up, but it felt different. So I sat there feeling like I was sixteen, waiting to see if someone would notice me. I looked around, trying to catch various guys' looks. Nothing.
And after almost an hour, I realized I was getting a look. From the bartender, which I wasn't expecting. I had certainly scoped him out. Tall dude with shaved dark hair and perfectly trimmed scruff. He was elegant and reserved and I gradually began to really look at him. When I ordered my second martini, he gave me this smile that made my day. He said, “You have a hard day?”
I chuckled and said, “Why would you say that?”
“Well, it's after midnight and you just ordered your second martini. I would guess you work in a restaurant.”
Smarty dude. I grinned and said, “Good guess. But not so hard. I just wanted to give myself a treat.”
He handed me the glass and our fingers touched and he said, “Well, maybe you picked the right place for a treat.”
Oh boy, was this guy smooth. I was impressed. How did he do that? He just slipped a very clear invitation into a really normal conversation. I could learn a thing or two from this guy. I summoned up my sweetest smile and said, “I like treats. Who doesn't?”
When his smile got bigger I knew something was going to happen. I felt more confident now, since the vibes were mutual and I knew what to do. I stuck out my hand and said, “Steve.”
“Omar.” He put his hand out and I shook it, then he totally floored me. He took my hand and kissed it, all formal. Then he turned my hand over and licked my palm. Just like that. The bar was quiet so no one really saw, but it felt daring and crazy sensual. He gave me my hand back, then said, “I get off in an hour. You want to wait?”
I took a sip of my drink and smiled back with a little nod. I was getting hard just sitting there imagining him without pants. But I was also freaking out a little. I know I can play it all cool and suave, but I'm also really good at hiding when I'm kind of losing it. But I was losing it in a good way.
So yeah, I waited an hour and then we went to his place which was, it turned out, just down the street. I had briefly thought about taking him home, but I realized I wasn't ready to let Ilya know that about me, for some reason. Duh.
So Omar was a demon. I mean in the best way. He tore my clothes off and made me walk around his living room in nothing but my really hard cock. He sat on the sofa, fully clothed, and just watched me. Then he got on his knees and I went over and fed him my dick which he proceeded to worship. It had been a while since I had had sex, so I had to be careful and pace myself. He had this technique I guess you'd call it, where he sucked the end in, swirling his tongue around, then sucked me in a little more, still slathering the shaft with his tongue, then more, a little bit at a time. The feel of his wet mouth, and his tongue all slick and warm bathing my hard flesh was making me crazy.
But he was an expert and, it turned out, knew how to keep me on the edge, because a couple of times I almost blew in his mouth, but he stopped at just the right moment, letting my cock pulse in his mouth. I could feel pre-cum oozing out and I wanted to fuck his face, but I held myself off, knowing there was more.
Once he had brought me close a few times, he got up and he took me to his bed where I got his pants open, and pulled his briefs off. All that tan skin and dark pubes surrounded his big uncut dick made my mouth water. I kissed the end and explored his foreskin with my tongue. He tasted a little salty and had this rich, spicy smell that made me fuck his bed as I lay, pulling his cock into my mouth, trying to emulate his tongue technique.
He finally said to me, “Why don't you fuck me, Steve?”
I didn't need an invitation, so I took the lube had handed me and got everything ready and slippery, including his ass, which I fingered while I rubbed the head of my dick over his hole. He was tight and said he didn't let guys fuck him very often, but he wanted my cock in there, so I took it easy, kissing him deeply while I stretched him, sliding in slowly, enjoying the tightness and at the same time his tongue which practically wrestled with mine. Finally I was able to give him some slow, deep thrusts. I looked down into his dark brown eyes and started to really move, going deep and by this point he was relaxed and was totally into it. I could feel his body letting go and my cock went deeper and his legs moved so they were wrapped around my waist and we were all snug as I fucked him with more force, swivelling my hips, jamming my cock as deep as it would go.
While my ass was pumping, he snaked a couple of fingers into my hole and wriggled it around, which made me a little crazy, as he found all the best spots with his fingers. I realized I was almost there when he pushed me up and growled, “Now it's my turn, Steve. Can I fuck you?”
Of course he could. I got on all fours and he got behind me and first drove his tongue into me really deep. He was a master at this stuff. His tongue got deeper into me than I thought possible.
But then he was all business and while taking hold of my cock with one fist, he slid his prick deep in me and used my cock for stability, somehow managing to fuck me and jerk me off at the same time. I didn't have to do anything. I got up on my knees and this made it easier for him and we even managed, when I turned my head, a few intense, awkward kisses. I let him go, and I let myself go. He fucked me with long, slow strokes, and it was amazing. It was like a world champion fuck. Out of nowhere I came once all over his bed, my body taking me over, but he still fucked, his dick seeming to go deeper and deeper and I was still hard. About ten minutes later, I came again. I didn't know I had so much cum in me. The second time, I was able to warn him and he put his hand over the head of my cock and let me spurt in his cupped palm. Once I was done, he smeared it all over my face and made me clean his hand off. Fuck that was hot and I wanted to cum a third time, but there was no way.
After another couple of strokes that felt like he was splitting me in half, he gasped and yelled at the same time and shoved into me more deeply and slowly and his body was trembling. He growled into my ear, “Take my fucking cum!”
How hot is that? So hot that I wanted to return the favour even though I had no more cum in my body. I pulled away from him and pushed him on his back and straddled his face and pushed my still dripping cock into his mouth and pummelled him, getting my dick right into his throat. He was no amateur, however, and he knew how to take a cock deep and let me, his eyes never leaving mine.
When I was exhausted, I sat back on my heels, my cock all wet, my body sweaty. He sat up and got on his knees and kissed me very tenderly after all that aggression. We kissed until I felt like I had no more liquid in my body, so I fell backward and just lay there. He went to get us water and we stayed in bed talking. After a few hours, I fucked him hard with him on his side and me behind him. When I filled his ass he turned and sat on my face so I could clean up my cum, then he jerked a big load into my mouth. That Omar was a dirty boy and I liked it.
We finally slept, exhausted, and in the morning he fucked me again. He was also insatiable, if you hadn't noticed. I had to finally push him off me when he wanted me to fuck him. I said, “Holy shit, Omar. I'm spent. I don't think I can cum for a week.”
He laughed but managed to suck a load out of me anyway. We kissed and he gave me most of my cum back which I swallowed and that for me, sealed the deal. I really was done. I got up and we had a shower and he made me some coffee and, with a kiss and a promise that we would do it again some time, I went home.
I wondered how Ilya would react when I walked in not having been home since the day before. But he just gave me a cheerful hello and we had breakfast together as if I hadn't walked in with beard burns on my face, and clearly not having really slept. If he thought about it at all, he was pretty cool and he didn't ask my anything; there was no sly innuendo or sarcastic remarks about how tired I looked.
We both had to work on Sunday afternoon – he at the hospital for an epic twenty-four hour marathon - so he drove me to the restaurant, which was nice of him. He had this sleek electric car – not a fucking Tesla piece of shit, don't worry – and when I thanked him he just gave me a vague nod and drove off. He was a hard guy to read.
I worked the Sunday brunch shift which I was beginning to really like. It was pretty relaxed with groups of older people hanging out, or couples out with their kid wanting a chill meal away from the house. But there was this couple who came in around one and I could tell right away they were into me. You know the feeling, right? You just know. The odd look, the little flirtatious conversation about the menu.
The clincher, of course, was when they paid their bill because the one guy – Zoltan was his name – took a long time about paying the bill and when he handed me his credit card he it came with his business card. And on it, it said, “You feel like joining us for a drink?”
I looked up, surprised by his balls and gave him my best smile. “That would lovely, gentlemen.” I looked at the guy with him – Roger - who was slim and blonde and hot. Zoltan was more built and had short dark hair and interesting glasses. They must have been in their late thirties and for some reason that turned me on. But again, a part of me wondered what I was doing. Was I being a slut? Was that even a thing? Was it safe to just go to some anonymous couple's apartment? But mostly I was excited.
Zoltan gave me an incandescent smile and said, “Come to our house when you're done. The address is on the card.”
I had the sense these two had done this before. They even had a cards to make it easier, because these days, no one has cards, right? Impressive. After they left, I was all hot and bothered and could barely do my job. I was nervous, scared, excited all mixed together. At five, I left and got my phone to tell me where I was going, which was the top of a very tall condo near the water, all glass and steel. When I got to the whatever floor – thirty? - I don't remember, there were only two doors. I thought to myself that these two had money.
Their suite was enormous and had tall ceilings and windows all the way around. They were into a minimalist vibe with chrome and leather fifties chic and huge paintings on the walls. Roger came out of the kitchen with a tray of drinks, and they sat on the leather sofa and me on a chair and toasted. They grinned at me and took big sips of their martinis, waiting, I guess, to see what I would do. I was freaking a little. Part of me wanted to run away. I wasn't used to so much naked...I don't know? Lust?
Finally, Zoltan put his glass on a table and said, “Why don't you get out of those clothes, Steve. We want to see you more closely.”
I was a little startled and wondered if they were getting off on me being young. But I guess that was part of the appeal for me as well, since I was into the fact that they were older. I got up and proceeded to give them the most tasteful striptease I could come up with on short notice, both feeling excited and feeling stupid. Nothing trashy, but I pulled my shirt off slowly and casually, then slid my pants off over my tight white briefs. My cock was at attention and I gave it a little massage through the fabric before I carefully tugged my briefs down my thighs. I suddenly had a sense of what these two wanted, so I moved over to them – they were side by side on the sofa – and started to stroke my cock while looking at them, back and forth. I finally said, “Why don't you get on your knees, boys, and give me some attention?” I was kind of shocked at myself, not knowing where that voice had come from, but I went with it.
They both grinned at me and got on their knees. Roger took hold of my cock and licked it and the shock of his wet tongue running over the surface of my dick was electric. Zoltan opened his mouth and ran his lips over the head with a little sucking sound, then jabbed the tip of his tongue into the cleft. Their tongues were soon all over the place, sinuous and slippery. They slurped on the head together, and kissed each other and slurped some more. They sucked on my balls and then Zoltan pulled my whole cock deep, pushing his face down and impaling himself, then Roger did the same. They were all about cock, these two.
I watched them shed their clothes at the same time, and I admired their toned, hard bodies, and they clearly spent time grooming, because under their healthy, meaty pricks they were shaved and smooth like porn stars or something. I started to feel aggressive so I pushed Zoltan onto the sofa and got his legs over my shoulders and said to Roger, “Can you lube him up for me?”
Roger laughed and stuck his face in Zoltan's ass getting it all spitty and wet and while he tongued Zoltan's hole, I started push my cock in beside his face. Roger moaned and sucked the side of my cock while it slid into Zoltan. Roger was all crouched down, but he stayed there, his tongue part of the action while I fucked Zoltan hard. I felt more aggressive than I'd ever felt and I braced myself with Zoltan's thighs, thrusting. The feel of Roger's tongue snaking around down their made my body tingle even more, and it didn't take me long to finally explode into him, my whole body shuddering.
I kept fucking, feeling my cum lubricating the way, and Roger licked up whatever leaked out. It was wild and unexpected and I could hardly recognize myself. I pulled out of Zoltan and kissed him, then felt Roger behind me, investigating my ass with his mouth. I turned and said, “You can fuck me, if you're into it.”
Roger laughed and growled at the same time. He pulled me up and gave me a nice kiss and the three of us headed to the bedroom which, not surprisingly, looked pretty much like the rest of the space except that it had a bed. A big bed. Like an emperor-sized bed. We climbed on it, and I got on all fours, wanting to be animal-fucked, and Roger produced some lube which I was glad to see, because I also realized his cock was really thick. Broad. Hefty. Fuck. I tried to find some zen and when he was all slippery, he knew enough to go slow. He pressed in and waited while I adjusted all those little muscles, then pushed some more. But when he was half-way in, he decided no more free and easy. He said, “Hold on.”
He gave a big push and in he went, stretching me in ways I had never been stretched. Holy shit was it intense. But you know what? I liked it. I wanted it, and more, and he seemed to realize I was into it, because he started to work hard, hammering that thing deep. It wasn't particularly long, but man was it broad. Zoltan got in front of me and fed me his dick, holding my head while he fucked my face in time with Roger. I had a moment of awareness, amazed I was there in Vancouver being taken by these two guys, but I loved it. It was, I realized, as Zoltan pushed deeper into my throat, the whole point of me being there. I wanted this. I wanted to experience sex with guys. In all its forms.
As these two worked me over, I started to feel like I could totally cum again, so I started to stroke myself and the three of us worked and we all blew at around the same time, me first, sending a streak of cum all over the bed, then Zoltan held my head really tightly and covered my tongue, and then, with a really intense fuck, Roger swore a bunch of times and then pulled his dick out and spewed all over my back. Zoltan moved over and licked it up and the two of them had a nice long, salty kiss. They were clearly bonded, because they more or less ignored me while they necked, but it was fun to watch.
When everyone had settled down, they made me dinner and we had a nice conversation where they asked me about my plans. They gave me some tips about UBC which they both said was the best school and if I was going to re-enrol, that would be the place to do it. Nice dudes. When we finished dinner, I kissed them both and told them I would be up for more any time they wanted, and left.
It felt really nice to be making friends. Not just guys to fuck, but friends. And those two I felt could be good for me to know. Sweet and hot but also caring and curious. Guys my age needed slightly older guys to help them navigate things, right?
I took a cab home and, since Ilya was still at the hospital – and would be until the next day – I chilled with a glass of wine and caught up on email and texts. I sent Mark one updating him on what had been happening. I checked in with the parents as well. I missed all of them, I realized, but at the same time I was glad to be out of there. The fact that Susan was still in K seemed to have tainted the whole place. Like she was radioactive or something. I still missed her and wanted to talk to her and wished we could fuck, but at the same time, I was all about this little journey I was on.
Mark called me after I texted him, which felt good. I missed him and not for the first time realized he was the closest thing to a brother I would ever have. And a brother who fucked me now and then.
“Hey, Steve! Nice to hear your voice.”
“Mark, I miss you.”
“Me, too. We both do.”
That was awesome to hear. Who doesn't like being missed? “How are things in Ontario?”
He laughed and said, “The same. How is Vancouver? How is the restaurant? How is your mysterious housemate?”
“Whoa, slow down. Vancouver is beautiful and fucking expensive. The restaurant is awesome and I make good money because I guess I'm better at it than I thought. And Ilya is, well, Ilya. He works all the time, so I don't see him all that much. But he's like, I don't know, an enigma. I can't get a read on him. And I don't just mean who he likes to fuck. He keeps his cards in some other dimension, not just close to his chest.”
Mark was silent for a second and I knew he had sussed me out. “You're totally crushing on him, aren't you.”
“Maybe a little. He is the most gorgeous guy I have ever seen. I mean, I'm not exaggerating.”
“Yeah, Steve, you told me that before. Like I said, you have it bad for him.”
It was my turn to be silent. I finally mumbled, “Yeah, well. Who knows.” I realized I just didn't know what to say or what to do.
We talked for a while, but he had to go to bed, so we signed off and I sat on the sofa, wondering what my life would look like in the future. Did I want to go back to school? Would it be UBC? I had no idea. Too many unknowns.
I went to bed and slept fitfully. I was restless and annoyed but I didn't know why. In the morning I got up and went and found a gym where I could swim lengths. I always find swimming settles my head. I did what felt like a thousand and got really tired, which is what I needed.
In the shower, getting rid of the chlorine, I was standing in my little stall, soaping myself, when I realized there was this dude across from me checking me out. He was really cute, and I know he was checking me out because he was stroking this his big dick while he did it. So I returned the favour and we jacked together for a while. I was kind of amazed it was happening, kind of scared someone would come in, but mostly I was excited.
The shower room was empty so I took a risk and walked over to his side and stood really close to him. He grabbed my cock and I grabbed his and we kept stroking. At one point he leaned in and kissed me. He had big green eyes and pale body with hardly any hair on it.
I got on my knees and sucked him for a while, tasting a lot of pre-cum which made me crazier. Then he returned the favour. But both of us knew we probably didn't have much time, so he knelt down again and jacked a huge load out of me and I squeezed my eyes shut and tried not to make too much noise. He slurped some of it up, but the rest hit the floor. I did the same, and he jizzed in my mouth and held my head down on his dick while I swallowed. It was quick and dirty. I stood up and smiled at him, kissing him once then I went back and resumed washing and we pretended nothing happened except for grinning at each other when some other guys finally came in. Sexy dude. I kind of wished I had got his details because I totally would have loved a repeat.
I got home, feeling less agitated and Ilya was there, chilling on the sofa with a cup of tea. I guess it was a Russian thing. I sat down beside him and said, “Nice to see you. How is the hospital?”
He laughed and said, “Oh, you know. Busy. Underfunded. Stressful. The usual.”
I realized he sounded a little bitter. I said, “I get the sense you don't like it much.”
With a look of almost surprise, he nodded. “Yeah. Sometime I don't.”
I thought about Mark and asked, “What will your specialty be?”
He looked at his hands and then said, “I don't know yet. Maybe psychiatry. Maybe paediatrics. I can't decide.”
I pulled my legs up so I could be cross-legged and said, “Those are awesome specialties, if you ask me. We need more people to care about those kinds of things. Who needs another fucking brain surgeon? We need to care for people who can't care for themselves, and care for kids so they can clean up the mess that we've made...”
I was feeling passionate and I was surprised at the heat behind my words, but I totally believed what I was saying. Ilya just looked at me for a second with a little half-smile. He finally said, “I wasn't expecting that from you.”
That got my attention. “What were you expecting?”
Now he looked uncomfortable. “I don't know...not that. You're a surprising person. But I agree with you. These things are important.”
It was all he said about it. He got up and we made dinner. We were getting good at that already and I enjoyed collaborating. I love cooking – unlike Mark who can barely boil water – and I could tell Ilya appreciated that. I also realized I was looking for ways to impress him. Very high school, I know, but what else are you going to do?
We ate and chatted, but didn't talk about anything that serious. We cleaned up and Ilya said he had an early start, so he went to bed. I went soon after, totally worn out from swimming and from all the sex I had had. Who wouldn't be?
In the morning, I got up early and Ilya was still home. At first he barely noticed me, sipping his coffee and looking at some detailed notes he had taken from a lecture, I assumed. I stood in the kitchen with my phone, trying to read the paper, but Ilya came in and he was wearing these jeans. Fuck. Tight and form fitting. His ass – you know, the one I'm obsessed with – looked magnificent. He face was smooth and his eyes were this other-worldly blue-green that I found increasingly distracting. I put my phone down and turned to the sink, running water in a pan. He walked over to me and said, “Have good day, Steve.”
And more importantly, more maddeningly, he put his hand on my back for a second, all soft and gentle. It was just a touch, really. But it felt electric. It felt fucking incendiary. Then he was gone. I stood there at the sink, frozen. I felt almost dizzy because I suddenly asked myself a dozen questions all at once. What did it mean that he put his hand on my back? Was he trying to say something? Was it affection or something more? But some other part of me said that it meant nothing because it was only there for half a second. It was just a meaningless touch. But it felt so amazing, so significant. It must mean something. Surely it meant something. Didn't it?
