Love and happiness had eluded me, and at forty-two, I had grown rather accustomed, maybe too accustomed, to solitude. Routine had become my refuge, my excuse, my quiet surrender. My rut, honestly. I worked out twice a week to maintain my health, and at six even and one hundred seventy-five pounds and blood work within the normal ranges, my physician told me that I was holding my own in the battle against aging.
“You’re doing great,” he’d said cheerfully. “Aging well.”
The bastard. Aging? The word still stung.
When I looked in the mirror, I saw a man I almost recognized. The abs were still there, faint outlines beneath the skin. My chest, modestly defined and faintly furred, rose and fell with a steady rhythm. My hair, still thick, still brown, was one of the few things life hadn’t taken from me. My face wasn’t remarkable, but it was kind enough, the chin firm, the eyes still bright green and searching. Searching for what, though?
If I’m honest, I’d date me. Not out of arrogance, but because I knew I would be safe with someone like me. Predictable. Careful. Solitary.
That, of course, was my problem. I was an introvert. My heart wanted companionship, but my nature recoiled from the effort it required. I could charm in messages, even flirt in the low-risk world of late-night chats, but face-to-face, I faltered. Words thinned on my tongue. Silences grew heavy.
So, I lived my life alone in my three-bedroom, two and a half bath ranch home in the suburbs, making love to my hand twice a week. Workouts always increased my urges, so my relief always took place after a workout but before the shower.
Plus, I also suffered from a neatness complex. I tidied rooms that were already spotless, straightened drawers that needed no reorganization, wiped counters that weren’t dusty. I maintained a house that was too large for one man. No laughter echoed off the walls.
My work as an accountant kept me busy enough. Three days from home, two at the office. When I wasn’t crunching numbers, I tended my flower beds or pruned tomato vines, convincing myself that discipline was a kind of happiness. In the winter, I built model planes while old black-and-white films murmured in the background, their lonely heroes making grand declarations to women who always seemed to understand them.
I envied that kind of recognition, the way someone could be seen and loved in spite of their walls.
My house had a sprawling yard that I hated to mow. I had discovered that almost immediately upon moving in. For the past eleven years, the kids from four houses over took care of it for me. I’d watched them grow up from behind a curtain of polite detachment. Alex first, then Nathan, and finally Kenny, the youngest. They came and went like seasons. I made sure they were well paid, and I had even given them Christmas bonuses for their diligence. I worried a bit about what I would do when Kenny went off to school.
I never paid much attention to them; I wasn’t interested in boys. Even as a boy, I wasn’t interested in boys. In high school, the guys from the local college seemed more attractive to me. They, of course, were too smart to mess with an underage homosexual who was trying to figure things out. In college, I was drawn to the corporate guys who wore nice-fitting suits and ties that matched. I had little success there. At this point in my life, I was willing to scope things out if the guy was breathing. In my fantasy life, porn stars like Jacob Peterson got my heart beating.
In fact, I was trying to decide which video star would fill my screen for my Saturday morning session when the doorbell rang.
I was startled. I couldn’t remember the last time it had rung. I was in my running shorts and a tank top, having just finished running on the treadmill, when I opened the door to find Kenny standing there in a crisp shirt, looking apologetic. Behind him stood someone who made the air in my chest catch.
Nathan.
He had changed in all the ways a man can change. Taller now, broader, his boyish features sculpted into something confident and easy on the eyes. His hair caught the morning light, and his expression, open, curious, made me feel suddenly, painfully aware of my bare arms and my unsteady breath.
“I’m sorry, Mr. J. I meant to tell you that I wasn’t going to be able to do the lawn today.” Kenny’s voice cracked a little and stopped my staring at his older brother. “But Nate said he would do it for me.”
“Remember me?” asked Nathan.
“Of course,” I managed, and shook his hand. His grip was firm, his palm dry and warm. Something uncoiled deep inside me, unexpected and sharp. I felt a swelling in my running shorts.
“Anyway, I’ve got to go,” said Kenny as he turned and hurried away.
My eyes followed Kenny’s departure for a moment, and then I looked back at Nathan. He had grown to almost six feet tall and filled out. He had an attractive face and beautiful greenish-blue eyes. He was looking directly at me as well, and when our eyes locked together, I noticed him blush slightly. The quiet between us felt charged in a way that made me both restless and rooted.
“I should get started,” he said. Then he smiled. I’m sure my penis lurched forward when he did, and I’m positive that he noticed it. His smile broadened, and he turned to go. “I’ll let you know when I’m finished.”
“Right. Sure. Thank you,” I replied, though I barely heard myself. His smile lingered, and when he turned away, the absence of his gaze left something hollow in its wake.
The next two hours were agony for me. I walked over to my pile of work, but I was drawn to the window closest to the lawnmower noise. I spied at him through the back windows. I moved from room to room to enhance my view. I was acting like a kid spying on a neighbor, watching him push the mower in clean, deliberate lines. His shirt clung to him, damp with sweat, the sunlight drawing gold from his skin. I told myself to stop watching. I didn’t. I chided myself for my behavior, yet I was compelled to continue.
As he was about to finish, I went onto my back patio to sweep away any grass that might have blown on it. There wasn’t much, but I made the best of it, sweeping the clean concrete.
Finally, the mower cut off, and Nathan pushed it up to the porch. His skin glistened from the sweat, and he smiled at me as he drew closer. He let go of the handle and stepped into the shade of the covered patio.
“The shade feels good,” he said.
“You earned it. That’s hard work,” I replied. Shit, I thought, I should have brought him a bottle of water.
“It’ll keep me in shape. I haven’t been to the gym since I moved back home.”
“You’re living back with your parents?” I asked.
“Yeah, I got transferred back here to Round Rock. To be honest, I haven’t even looked for a place yet.”
I nodded, though I wasn’t sure I’d heard the rest. He was close—close enough that I could smell the faint salt of his skin mixed with the cut grass and the clean scent of sweat. My pulse fluttered, unreasonably fast.
“You’re looking good, Mr. J.,” Nathan said suddenly, the edge of a smile playing at his lips. “Better than I remember.”
I laughed softly, but the sound betrayed me. “You’re the one who’s looking good.”
He stepped closer, eyes catching mine. For a long, unspoken moment, neither of us moved. I could feel the heat radiating off him, the small, invisible current that bridges two people when something unacknowledged begins to wake between them. I fought for something to say. “You probably need some water.” I felt a nervous wave rush through me.
“I probably need a shower,” he said finally, his voice low, almost teasing. “I’m sure I don’t smell very good. Nathan’s eyes locked with mine.
“Yeah, you do.” My arm involuntarily pointed toward the door to the house. “Do you want to use mine?”
His mouth changed to a sexy smirk. “Scrub my back?” His boldness seemed to come so easily, so confidently, as if he already knew that I would say yes.
“I’d love to,” I replied. I couldn’t believe how the words just came from my mouth. I was nervous as hell and more excited than I could remember ever being. I led him silently to the just inside the back door, then I took his hand and led him into my bathroom. I turned the shower on for him. He stripped, and I took his clothes from him. He was even more beautiful.
“I’ll put these in the washing machine.” Since my washer and dryer were in my bathroom, it took two steps for me to drop them inside.
“Put yours in there, too,” Nathan commanded with a gentle tone.
I turned and removed my clothing. I placed them in the drum with a cleaning pod and set the machine to wash on cold water. I stepped back to the shower. Nathan stepped in and under the warm stream of water. I followed, and as our bodies neared, our semi-erections bumped together. I heard him moan softly. He immediately opened his mouth slightly and pressed his against mine.
I can honestly say that I have never been kissed like that. The way our lips moved and our tongues danced, every unhappy thought that had ever taken root in my brain was eradicated. A feeling of elation pulsed through my veins. Almost simultaneously, we pulled slightly back from one another to breathe. I grabbed the new bar of soap that I had placed on the shelf just that morning and brought it to a lather, which I spread over Nathan’s chest. He scooped up some of the foam and ran his fingers over my left nipple. When I had spread the lather from his chin to his crotch, I faced him away from me, kissed the nape of his neck, and pressed the bar against his back.
Once I reached his lower back, I formed another lather before running my hand within the crack of his ass. He leaned his shoulders away from me and pivoted his hips to open the space between his cheeks. I ran my soapy hand through the valley at least four times. I pulled the shower head free from its attachment point and rinsed his back and ass with the powerful jets of water before returning the pulsing unit to its cradle. I dropped to my knees and pushed my face between those muscular mounds of flesh, and with my tongue, I encircled his tight pucker.
Nathan turned and pulled me to my feet. As the water fell over us as if we were standing under a sudden thunderstorm, we devoured one another. I couldn’t get enough of him, and the torrent of water from my showerhead did not deter me.
I could barely hear him, but he pulled my ears closer to his mouth. “I’ve wanted this for so long.” His fingers gripped my hardness, and as he did, he locked eyes with me. Water droplets caught and fell from his eyelashes. “You’re so big,” he mumbled.
I wasn’t, or at least I didn’t believe that I was. His words confused me, and he must have sensed it.
“Are you OK? Am I going too fast?” he asked.
“I guess it is kind of fast,” I said as I realized I’d only seen him, I mean, really saw him, for the first time a few hours before. Before that, he was a kid who mowed my yard at least five years ago. And today, it was love at first sight.
“Wait,” I said out loud.
Nathan turned off the water. “What is it?” His face took on an air of sadness. “What’s wrong?”
“No, nothing.” I squeezed the excess water from my hair before putting my hands on his broad shoulders. “Nothing’s wrong. It’s just that suddenly, everything’s right.”
He smiled.
“Let me clear my thoughts so I can tell you what just went through my head.”
“OK,” he replied and pushed open the shower curtain.
Steam still drifted from the bathroom doorway, soft tendrils of it curling into the bedroom like the last traces of a dream I wasn’t ready to wake from. The scent of soap and something unmistakably human, clean skin, heat, the faint metallic edge of water, hung in the air.
I stood there, towel wrapped low around my waist, my hair dripping slow, heavy drops down my chest. The cool tile grounded me, a reminder that this wasn’t imagination or loneliness twisting itself into fantasy. It had happened; we had happened.
Nathan leaned against the counter, the white towel at his hips clinging just enough to make me feel unsteady. He looked effortless, too young, too sure of himself. His shoulders still gleamed from the shower, his hair damp and wild, a strand sticking to his cheek.
I couldn’t stop the rush of uncertainty that spread through me. Was this just a moment for him, a curiosity, a passing thrill? For me, it felt like something had cracked open that I didn’t know how to close again.
He caught me watching him and smiled, that quiet, devastating kind of smile that felt like it saw right through me. “Still with me, Mr. J?”
I cleared my throat. “It’s just Kurt,” I managed, my voice rougher than I intended.
His smile widened slightly. “Kurt,” he repeated, soft and deliberate, like he was tasting the word.
The washing machine beeped from behind the folding door, mercifully breaking the tension. I seized the moment to move, to do something, anything to give my hands purpose. “You hungry?” I asked as I moved our clothes to the dryer. “It’s early, but I could fix lunch.”
“Yeah,” he said easily. “I’d like that.”
I tightened my towel, enough to be decent, though our skin still glistened from the shower. When we walked into the kitchen, the sunlight poured through the blinds in clean, bright lines, striping the table and the floor. The air smelled faintly of detergent and pine cleaner. I busied myself with the small things: slicing bread, pulling out fruit, pouring tea. My hands moved automatically, like they had something to prove, that I could still be composed, ordinary, even when my thoughts were anything but. When my thoughts tried to imagine the two of us together, next to one another, half-buried by a worn but comfortable blanket.
The feet of the chair screeched along the tile as Nathan sat at the table, elbows resting on the wood, watching me with that calm, curious focus that made it impossible to ignore him.
“You cook?” he asked.
“Only when there’s a reason to,” I said, realizing too late how it sounded.
He tilted his head, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Guess I’m the reason today?”
I didn’t answer right away. My laugh came out low, unsure. “Maybe.” I watched him, sitting at my table. “Yeah, I’d cook more often if you were sitting there and waiting to eat.”
Nathan’s smile was so pleasant and genuine. “What can I do to help? Maybe I’d like to learn to cook for you.”
If I were only true, I thought. “Unwrap the cheese for me.” I put the buttered bread slices in the skillet. He handed me the cheese. “Now slice the tomatoes. Wash them first.”
“Yes, sir.” Nathan laughed. He came back from the sink, pulled a cutting board, and sliced the tomatoes perfectly. He presented them to me with a kiss on my cheek.
I flipped the sandwiches.
“Something to drink?”
“There’s iced tea in the fridge. It’s not sweetened. There’s also some wine, but you’ll need to open it.”
“Tea is fine. And I’m afraid I don’t put sugar in my tea. I know that's sacrilege for us Texans, but I prefer my sugar in deserts. And your lips.”
“I need to be careful,” I said. “You’re trying to steal my heart.” I smiled.
“It’s only fair. You’re holding mine in your hand, even if you don’t realize it.”
I put the sandwiches on a paper plate and grabbed the potato chips. “I didn’t realize it. But I’ll do my best to keep it safe.”
We ate quietly for a few minutes—grilled sandwiches, potato chips, glasses of iced tea that left rings on the table. It was ordinary, simple, but the air between us felt anything but. I found myself watching his hands as he talked, how they moved when he explained things, how his fingers flexed slightly when he laughed.
He told me about his new job as a database manager, about long hours, poorly written and inefficient code, and coworkers who spoke in acronyms. I listened, genuinely interested, though half of my brain was just cataloging him, the curve of his mouth when he smiled, the light catching the edges of his now slightly damp hair.
Then, in a quiet pause between stories, he looked at me. “What about you, Kurt? What do you do?”
“I’m an accountant,” I said, shrugging a little. “Spreadsheets, reports, reconciling numbers. Nothing glamorous.”
He leaned forward slightly, resting his chin on his hand. “Sounds steady. Reliable.”
I gave a short laugh. “Reliable, sure. Maybe a little boring.”
He didn’t agree or disagree. He just looked at me for a long moment, and I could feel him studying me in a way that made my skin warm. Then he asked, “So what are you looking for, really? Not at work. In life.”
That one caught me off guard. I stared at the table for a beat, then back at him. “I’m not sure,” I said. “I guess… peace. Someone to talk to. Someone who understands the quiet. I’ve spent a long time convincing myself that being alone was enough. Lately, I’m not so sure.”
He nodded, his expression thoughtful but tender. “It’s not enough, is it?”
I shook my head. “No. Not anymore.”
For a few seconds, neither of us said anything. The hum of the refrigerator filled the silence. Then Nathan took a slow breath. “You know, I’ve thought about that a lot, too. What I want. It’s not that different from what you just said.”
I frowned slightly, caught off guard by how serious he sounded. “You’re young, Nathan. You’ve got time to—”
“To mess around?” he said, smiling faintly. “Yeah, I’ve done some of that, in high school, in college. It never stuck. I always ended up thinking about you instead.”
My chest tightened. “Me?”
He nodded. “When I used to mow your yard, I’d hope you’d come outside. You rarely did, but I’d imagine what it’d be like to talk to you, even for a minute. You always seemed… steady, but kind, very handsome, sexy. Like someone I could be myself around.”
I didn’t know what to say. My mind kept trying to rewrite what I was hearing, to make it more plausible, less impossible. But he wasn’t smiling in that teasing, playful way now; he looked earnest, a little nervous, even.
“I could see us together,” he went on quietly. “Talking about our days, cooking together, not just existing, but living. And yeah, being close. I like the idea of having that with you. Not just anyone, you. I want that chance for us.”
For a long moment, all I could do was look at him. The sunlight had shifted, warming the right side of his face. His eyes—greenish-blue, vivid, alive—were steady on mine. And as I watched him, the doubts that had been circling in my chest began to fall away, one by one.
He wasn’t toying with me. He wasn’t confused. He wanted the same thing I did: something real, something quiet and good.
I stood up slowly, unsure if my legs would even hold me. He didn’t move. His expression softened, open and waiting. I stopped just in front of him, close enough to feel his breath. For a heartbeat, we only looked at each other. I could feel my heart pounding, a wild, unsteady rhythm.
Then I reached for him.
My hands rested on his shoulders, and his eyes flickered with surprise before his arms came up around me. The hug was tight, real, full of everything words couldn’t hold.
I pressed my face against his neck, breathing him in, letting the warmth of him erase the last of my fear. For the first time in years, I didn’t feel like a man waiting for life to start. I felt alive. Life had already started; it began with the doorbell early that day.
And as he held me closer, I knew, deep down, that we wanted the same thing. “Earlier,” I began, “when we were in the shower and I…” I tried to think of a way to describe it. “When I hesitated, I want you to know that it wasn’t you. I had processed what you said.”
“About wanting you?”
“Yeah, you said that you had wanted to be with me for a long time.”
Nathan nodded.
“I realized that you were interested in me since you were a kid,” I said.
“Well, a teenager at least, but I know now that I was too young for you. But I’m hoping now…”
I smiled at him and touched my forehead to his. “You don’t have to hope. Maybe I don’t have to hope either. The truth is that I think I believe in love at first sight. I think that’s what happened when I saw you at the front door. My insides changed. From that moment until this very moment, I cannot think of anything else aside from you. When I was twelve, a friend of mine and I met a new girl at school, and he told me that he was going to marry her. I thought that he was crazy. But they started dating and did get married.”
“Kurt.” I saw his lips begin to tremble. “I want to make love to you.”
“Now?” I laughed, but it wasn’t the laugh of hearing something funny or strange. It was the laugh of happiness, of joy, of hope.
“Yes, now,” he laughed, too. Today, tomorrow, and always.”
“You’ll still marry me?” I asked.
“I swear.”
I grabbed his towel. “I trust you.” I pulled his towel from his waist, revealing a nice, uncut, semi-rigid tool. “Follow me.” I wrapped my fingers around his leash and pulled him back to the bedroom. He had claimed that I was big, but he was practically the same size. He seemed a little long; I knew that I was only slightly thicker. Maybe it was the thickness that surprised him.
I told Nathan to get on his back with his head on the pillow. I pulled my towel from my waist and tossed it to the side. I crawled between his legs and kissed his chin as I engaged his eyes. I was looking at the man I had been waiting for most of my life, certainly all of my adult life. How could it be that I was in love with him? How could I know so quickly? It made no sense, but I knew that it was true.
“I’m in love with you, Nathan.”
Nathan stopped moving. Tears formed in his eyes. Silence. The house creaked in the wind. “I hadn’t expected that. I love you. I do.”
I kissed him. Slowly. Deeply. He kissed me back. My erection became harder. His penis stood up and pressed into me just below my navel. Something within me stirred, and I kissed his chin, his neck, his pec, his abs, and finally the head of hardness. My fingers wrapped around his scrotum and directed it toward my mouth. I’d never sucked anyone before. I’d watched videos, so I’d seen it done. I wanted to taste him, to taste his precum, and to taste his seed. I wrapped my lips around the shaft. I moved down until he reached the back of my throat. I’d never been someone who gagged, so I just pushed forward. His penis popped into my throat. The sensation was interesting, as if I had a large pill that I was trying to swallow, but it didn’t want to go down. Nathan groaned in pleasure.
I did a swallowing movement, and he groaned again. Another swallow, and his groan became a squeal. I knew I could do one more before I needed to pull back to breathe, so I swallowed really hard.
“Oh, fuck yeah. That’s… I don’t know. Oh wow.”
The more he reacted that way, the more intensely I tried to swallow him. His groan became more of a grunt. “I’m gonna cum.”
He started before he finished the warning. My nose was buried in his bush as his cock began to pulse. Some shot immediately down my esophagus. I pulled back, and the rest of his load emptied into my mouth. A mildly salty flavor filled my mouth. Mine was saltier. I had now tasted the only two semen samples I would ever have in my mouth.
“Don’t swallow it,” said Nathan. “Use it to lube my ass. I want you inside me.”
He had my heart, and now he controlled my mind. I did as he commanded, and without another word, I pushed my hardness into him. He squealed a cute little noise as I pumped and pumped and pumped. I never knew that something could feel that good. And when I came, it was like nothing I’d ever experienced. I lowered myself onto Nathan. His arms were around me; my hands held each of his shoulders. We each nuzzled the other’s neck.
I heard the dryer engage. It was on the wrinkle prevention cycle. About thirty seconds later, it stopped. A slight click emanated from the ceiling fan. Down the street, a lawn mower could be heard. The mundane sounds of the world continued on.
On my bed, the courage of one man had yielded to the path of a lifetime of happiness for two.
I felt a kiss on my cheek. “Are we going to do this every time we have grilled cheese sandwiches?”
I laughed. “Why?”
“'Cause I’m feeling like another sandwich.”
“Really?” I asked.
“Or, we could just skip the sandwiches.”
We skipped the sandwiches.
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