In the Beginning.....
All things considered, I was really in a pretty good space.
Eric and I had over a decade of good times together, and we were still on good terms. But our interests, our lives had drifted apart. He was all about the work, traveling for his career, landing his next deal. I wanted to keep nurturing my roots right where I was planted.
We’d already slept in separate beds for a few years, lived apart for over a year. So our legal separation was a good thing, and divorce was next. I wasn’t upset, or sad. Well, not deeply sad. But I felt like I’d already mourned the dissolution of our marriage, and let it go with grace.
But one part really sucked.
Trying to date, to find a guy for some play time, ugh. That was a fucking nightmare.
The last time I was single, I was still in my thirties, still had the kind of energy where I could be out until 3 and roll into work at 8 the next morning.
But now I was halfway to 50, with graying temples and twenty or so additional pounds on my bearish build. Staying out till all hours wasn’t an option.
I wasn’t expecting to find Prince Charming: The Sequel or anything. Cripes, the idea of a new husband was the LAST thing on my mind.
I didn’t want or need a new husband, not right now, anyway. I just wanted a decent dude to play with, a stiff hard cock in my mouth once in a while.
Someone that wasn’t my right hand.
But apparently, a simple request like that was beyond the capabilities of the known universe.
The Buddy System....
I tried to blow off some steam and let go of my frustrations at the gym. I went to the gym on the first floor of the building where I worked.
I kept noticing a handsome guy there. He was younger than me for sure, maybe in his early thirties. He had that sort of nice guy, handsome, all-American thing happening for him. He was friendly, and had a lot of buddies on the floor.
We struck up a conversation one day as we stood in line for an after-workout smoothie. His name was Jay, and he was new in town. He worked for the accounting firm on one of the higher floors.
Our chats were random, usually about something in the news or some idiot at the gym. One day he wore a t-shirt referencing our favorite sci-fi show and then we talked about that forever, until I wore one of my old concert tees and then that was our conversation.
Safe conversations, the kind of conversation that a straight guy and a gay guy can comfortably have.
Shoot, those chats went on for a good nine months, maybe closer to a year.
It was an early fall day, late in the afternoon after our workouts, as we sat together and slowly slurped on our smoothies.
“I’m having such a dry spell, man.”
“Me too, Jay. And the apps….they make it worse.”
“No shit, Zack! I mean…..listen, I don’t expect to find a vestal virgin every time I go looking….”
“What the fuck IS a vestal virgin, anyway?” I looked at Jay and we cracked up.
‘Seriously, though. The women that meet me, it’s either they’re checking to see if we’re having a baby together within 5 minutes of meeting, or they’re reaching for my zipper within five minutes of meeting. And neither one of those scenarios is a turn on!”
“I get it, Jay, I really do,” I say. “It’s pretty similar for me, but fewer guys trying to make the instant relationship happen, and more guys wanting to do some really intense stuff right up front.”
“I don’t get it, Zack,” he replied.
“I mean, maybe I’m just a nerd or a prude.” I was rambling on now. “But I wish I just had that buddy who wasn’t spending 24/7 chasing sex, who I could trust to have some hot fun every once in a while.”
“I miss eating pussy,” Jay sighed. “I really do. And I feel like I don’t want to do that with the first woman who swipes right on a photo of me. No slut shaming or anything but…I want a woman who’s been around maybe as much as I have. Which isn’t all that much!”
“I do, too,” I replied absentmindedly.
“Wait, you miss eating pussy, bro?” Jay laughed, and I did too.
“No, no, sorry. I just meant that……I miss the physical and sensual aspects of it. I just….every once in a while, I think of a hot guy and just wish I could experience, even if only for a few minutes, how his dick felt in my mouth, felt it getting hard, the way it tasted, the way his cum tasted….”
Jay had a curious look on his face. He wasn’t quite smiling, though he wasn’t mad, and he wasn’t shocked or disgusted. Maybe more bemused than anything.
“I get it, dude. I think we’re chasing the same thing.” He stood up, smoothie in hand, extending a fist bump.
I fist bumped him, waved, headed home, jumped in the shower.
Replayed his voice in my head and looked down, my cock hard as a fucking drill bit, thinking of my buddy. It took only a few seconds, a few strokes. Me thinking about him saying “we’re chasing the same thing.” I blasted all over the shower door.
Ugh, fuck. I didn’t mean to react that way, to use him for spank bank fodder. Jay was my buddy. But he was nice, and hot, and I was pent up, and worked up.
Frustration builds....
A few more months went by. We talked a few times about the kind of woman Jay wanted to meet. He wasn’t in a big rush to have kids, but he was kinda hoping he’d meet someone eventually where that could be a consideration. I told him he deserved the best.
He asked me one day what I’d want if I met a guy again, one worth dating or even worth a casual fling.
“I was invisible in my ex’s life. He was married to his career. It would be awesome to make some tiny impact with the next guy. Photos of us together. Maybe he paints a portrait or writes a story about me. Something that says, Zack was here.”
The busy holiday season arrived. Several of the companies in our office tower had a huge joint party, and I saw Jay with his camera, snapping a bunch of photos of the attendees.
The dull stretch of post-celebration season boredom hit hard after the holidays. I didn’t go to the gym as much in January, with all the newbies monopolizing the equipment, though I saw Jay at the smoothie shop a few times, shooting the shit at our 2:30 p.m. energy boost smoothie.
As we got closer to Valentine’s Day, Jay asked me if I’d come hang out at his new place with him on Friday.
“Sure, man. Is it a housewarming party?”
“Nah, just come hang out for a while, maybe we can grab a bite in my new hood.”
THE DAM BURSTS....
I got to his place after work. A nice shiny new condo, one of those ten story metal boxes going up all over town. He had a corner with a lot of plants and a Buddha statue, along with a small framed set of tiles that spelled out “namaste.”
“You….know what that means?” he asked.
“Yeah. I like that term." I do. It's cool. "It’s kinda of a nice, spiritual way to say, I like the cut of your jib.”
Jay laughed. “Yeah, I guess that’s right. The sacred in me bows to the sacred in you.”
We toasted Jay’s new place with a glass of wine. I kept watching Jay as he spoke.
I was crushing on him, bad. I really needed to pull it together.
“So, Zack…..remember what you told me months ago? About the kind of guy you wish you could meet….even for thirty minutes?”
I felt my eyes open really wide. “Yeah……”
Jay lowered his voice.
“Y’think that could be me? Because….I’d like it to be me.”
“Jay?”
He’s got a smile on his face, and despite a half glass of wine, Jay seems to be in full control of his senses.
“Jay. I need you to ask me. I really do. Use all your words.”
“Zack. Please. Please….go down on me. Please get me off. I want it. I want you.”
I can’t believe what I’m hearing.
But it doesn’t stop me from reaching for Jay’s belt buckle, unzipping Jay’s pants,
He steps out of them, and I can see how hard he is in his cloth boxers. I look up at Jay again.
“Zack. Please.”
“Say it, Jay. Tell me what you want.”
“Get down on your knees, Zack, and suck my fucking cock.”
There he is. The feral Jay. The one who wants this, needs it as much as I need it from him.
Jay sits on his sofa and I kneel in front of him. I'm not focused on myself right now. I'm so laser focused on Jay. I need to see and touch and experience him, now.
He never looks away, not for a second, as his hand reaches inside his boxers. His cock’s beautiful, exactly as I imagined it. He’s got the perfect dick, a perfect mouthful with a beautiful knob that’s already weeping for me, for my hands, for my tongue.
I taste Jay and it’s perfect. He’s perfect. He’s all sex and salt and musky scent and he’s moaning, writhing under my spell my mouth casts on him.
He pulls his shirt off. He’s so beautiful it’s almost more than I can bear. He's not a ripped gym rat, but everything about him, from his receding hairline to his fur covered body, is perfect. Jay's definitely an otter. Right now, he looks so fucking beautiful it makes me want to lick him all over.
And I do.
He’s surprised, but my tongue roams all over him, and I taste him. I learn, for example, that his dick jumps as if an electric pulse powered it every time my tongue darts over his nipples. I also learn the taste of his hairy armpits and his sweaty, musky nuts.
Then Jay really blows my mind, because I learn what it’s like to look into Jay’s eyes when he kisses me, his tongue on mine. It lasts for a few minutes, and I can’t stop watching him, my eyes open the whole time we’re kissing.
And when he breaks free, I hear the hunger in Jay’s broken voice. “Please, Zack. Now. I need to cum.”
I put my mouth back on Jay’s cock, and it’s my wish come true. My buddy. A beautiful dude in my mouth, the simplest of math that adds up every time for me.
He’s so hard and swollen and it takes only a few more slurps, a few more moments of my mouth up and down on him before I hear Jay moaning nonsense.
And then, the blast. Jay’s blast.
There’s so much of it. So much cum. So much Jay.
And I know what’s coming next even before it happens. I gulp and I gulp and I gulp and as I do, I moan with Jay’s dick filling my own mouth, because I’m cumming hard, without touching myself, soaking the pouch of my briefs, cumming so hard because Jay, the scent of Jay, the taste of Jay filled every bit of my senses.
I lay my head in Jay’s lap. We’re both boneless after firing off our loads for a few moments. And then Jay starts to chuckle, and I do too.
“Did you….?” he asks.
“Yeah, I did. It’s definitely been a while!”
Jay smiles at me, though I can tell he’s a bit freaked out.
We both clean up, and we go to the sports bar around the corner. I have a few wings and head home, with a fist bump from Jay.
“Hey, Zack?” he calls out before my rideshare arrives. “Thanks, buddy.”
THE AFTERMATH....
It would be dumb to call it a crush. Although it was one, absolutely, a little one. It takes me a few weeks to shake off the memory of Jay in my mouth.
I mean, it had been years. I was allowed to savor what happened between us for a hot minute, and appreciate how fucking hot it was to have a virile dude blow in my mouth. Especially one as hot as Jay.
I knew it wasn’t likely to happen again between us. I wasn’t optimistic it was going to happen too often in the future with anyone, but, whatever. Just luck of the draw and market demands, I guess.
It took a minute, but things went back to normal. We started bumping into each other at the gym again, and the smoothie place.
Over the summer, I saw a young woman I recognized from our office building chatting with him. He introduced her to me. She seemed nice, though I couldn’t for the life of me remember her name. They were cute as hell together.
THE FLYER...
It was Indian Summer again when Jay found me at the smoothie place with a flyer in his hand. He invited me to a wine and cheese event at a friend’s gallery. It was pretty close to his place. I said sure.
The gallery was in an old renovated car garage, with a circular gallery space along the perimeter, a pathway starting on one side and ending on the other with a social space in between.
I had some wine and a few bites of cheese and waved at Jay and the very sweet Whatserface as I walked through. They were too busy to chat, and I was beginning to wonder why I was here.
A lot of sculptures, a lot of really great work on huge canvases.
A text popped up on my phone. It was Jay.
We should hang out again sometime soon, he typed, with a wink emoji.
I stopped in my tracks, as three dots hovered on my phone screen for seemingly forever.
Can’t talk now, but I’d like to hang out again….maybe return the favor?
What the actual fuck?
I dropped my fucking phone. I leaned against the wall to steady myself to pick it up, and when I stood up, a framed print was on the wall.
It was a photo of a man in a setting I recognized as the outside of our office building, the last bits of sunlight falling on his face. The face - and a lot of the photo itself - was a bit blurry around the edges.
I looked closer at what the man was wearing, the shape of the husky, thick frame of the person in that photograph, and realized the photo was of me.
The card on the wall read:
Title of Work: Namaste Artist: Jay Miller
My hands were shaking. I thought I’d been a blip, gone in the blink of Jay's eye, a quick splash of his balls, but he’d seen me, after all. And saved a tiny memento of what he’d seen.
In small text under the title and artist’s name, a description was written.
“The sacred in me bows to the sacred in you.”
I walked a few steps to the exit and exhaled, a wave of emotions hitting me. It was going to take a minute to process what just went down.
After a deep breath, and a moment of what-the-fuck-just-happened, I hailed a taxi, and settled in for my ride home.
I smiled as I pulled out my phone. It was time to text Jay a reply.....
