Frank hated the music in this place.
He’d never been one for loud, pounding bass music, even when he was young enough that it didn’t make his ears throb. His wife had been the adventurous one—she’d gone to Coachella, Woodstock, even been a Dead Head for a few years before they met—but she’d never pushed him to get outside of his comfort zone.
That was one of about a thousand things he missed about her every day.
This new music seemed like it was designed to be irritating, with a loud, repetitive chorus and endless thumping that made Frank’s teeth rattle. What was he doing in a place like this at his age, anyway? At 60, he should be halfway into bed by now, cuddling up on the couch and watching Jeopardy with his wife like they did every weeknight.
Only she was dead, and he was alone, and the thought of being in the home they’d shared for almost 40 years by himself, surrounded by memories of her, made him want to jump in the Hudson River.
So here he was.
“Can I get a Yuengling?” he said to the bartender, a young black man in a mesh tank top, young enough to be his grandson.
The man winked at him. “Sure thing, pops.”
Frank tugged on the hem of his flannel, uncertain whether the nickname was meant as a dig. He had plenty of gray in his hair and beard, so he wasn’t hiding his age, unlike some men. That had to count for something, right? Or maybe coming to a gay bar at all was a sign of desperation, a pathetic attempt by an old man to explore something he should have let rest a long time ago.
“First one’s on the house,” the young bartender said as he handed him an ice-cold beer. “Welcome to Rocks.”
Frank took the beer and smiled, which was rare for him. “Thanks. I’m happy to pay–”
“It’s your first time here, right?” The man started polishing one of the glasses lining the bar. “I haven’t seen you around.”
Frank nodded. “Yes.”
The bartender grinned, clearly amused at Frank’s meager attempts at conversation. “You new to town or something? Traveling?”
Frank shook his head. “I’ve lived here for almost forty years. Moved here right after college.”
The man blinked in surprise. “Wow. What brought you to Albany?”
Georgia’s beaming face entered his mind, the excitement that poured out of her when he carried her over the threshold into their home in Westmere. Those early days, when she could still teach at the local grade school, shepherding kids like cattle and growing more and more beautiful every year.
“Is it always this dead in here?” he asked, changing the subject.
The bartender laughed. “It’s 8 o’clock on a Tuesday. We’re only busy Thursday through Sunday, and even then, not till at least 10.”
Frank nodded dumbly. “Right.”
The bartender smiled at him again, only this time there was a touch of pity in it. “First time at a gay bar?”
Frank had had about enough of pitying looks to last a lifetime. He tilted his drink in a show of appreciation. “Thanks for the beer.”
He walked away, leaving the bartender shaking his head. He knew he seemed rude, but he was used to people thinking he was an asshole. In his line of work, you needed a hard exterior. Georgia was the only one who saw the sensitive underbelly, the one he’d kept locked away until she taught him it was okay to be seen.
Jesus. If he kept thinking about her at this rate, he might as well just go home.
“There you are!”
Another middle-aged man, bald and with a bit of a paunch, walked over and clapped him on the back. “How ya doin’, Frank? Find any young studs yet?”
Frank’s cheeks turned ruddy under his beard. He looked around, but there was no one around. Hell, there was hardly anyone in the bar at all.
“No, John. I was waiting for you to arrive.”
John chuckled. “Don’t you worry, Frank. I’m an excellent wingman. So—what kind of guys are we looking for?”
Frank shrugged. “I dunno, man.”
“Come on, indulge me a little. It was shocking enough to hear you liked guys. I’m still not convinced you’re not pulling my leg.”
Frank sighed. “I’m not picky. I just want someone… nice. And clean. Someone who’s not gonna make fun of me or expect me to be something I’m not.”
John nodded. “All right, all right. So no drunks, no tweakers. Any age preference?”
“I’m… not sure. Probably not over 50, I guess.”
John elbowed him, grinning. “I’d expand your horizons a little. You know, young guys go crazy over guys like you. You’d be a daddy, according to the gay lingo.”
Frank frowned. “What does that make you?”
“I’m a bear. But that’s neither here nor there. I’m not looking, you know that. Pretty sure Adam would kill me. And he’s a doctor, so you know he could do it in a way where you’d never know it was murder.” He laughed at his own joke, then scratched his head. “But I should tell you, I promised him I’d be home by 10. Hope that’s all right.”
“I don’t even think I’ll make it an hour,” said Frank. “This place is dead as a doornail.”
John squeezed his shoulder. “That’s why we’re here on a Tuesday. I wanted you to get your toes wet in a safe environment, you know. If I threw you to the sharks right off the bat, hell, you’d never come back!”
Frank smiled. John really was a good guy, even if he didn’t know him that well. Truthfully, John and Adam had been more Georgia’s friends than his. But he was the only gay person Frank knew, or at least the only one he felt comfortable admitting his attraction to men to.
He must have had a faraway look on his face, because John’s voice got quiet and he said, “She’d be happy for you, ya know. Being here.”
Frank frowned. “I’m not so sure about that.”
“Why? She was a very accepting woman.”
“I think it’s different when it’s your husband.”
“Well, you were faithful to her, weren’t you?”
Frank narrowed his eyes. “Of course.”
“Then there’s nothing to worry about! You loved her; anyone could see that. Just because you’re also attracted to men doesn’t take away from that.”
Frank noticed a young man enter the bar, the first new arrival since John. He was tall and Asian, with curly, jet-black hair and wide eyes that roamed the bar. He was wearing a large black overcoat and nervously fiddling with the buttons. Suddenly, his gaze landed on Frank and held there.
He smiled. Frank looked away.
“I think I’m too old for this,” Frank grumbled. “I should just accept that my love life is over. Georgia was my soulmate, and now she’s gone. Why ruin a good thing by going after something I don’t even know I want?”
“If you didn’t want it, you wouldn’t be here,” John pointed out.
Frank took a sip of his beer and was surprised to find he’d finished it. He hadn’t even remembered drinking much of it. Maybe he was more nervous than he thought.
“Man, I’m telling you,” John said with a sigh. “If we were here on a Friday at midnight, the guys would be all over you.”
Frank huffed. “Yeah, right.”
“I’m serious! You’re fresh meat, you’re handsome, you’ve got the whole daddy thing going on–”
“I’m 60 years old, John,” said Frank. “I’m a senior citizen.”
“And I’m 56, and I don’t know about you, but I’m in my sexual prime!” He let out a loud guffaw. “But seriously, man. You’re in great shape, you look like a lumberjack… You just need a little confidence, that’s all.”
Frank ran a hand through his thick gray beard. He had made an effort to keep in shape over the years, more to be healthy than to look good. Georgia was always into him, no matter how he looked, even when he’d put on a bit more weight around his midsection in later years. He supposed he had what might be called a “Dad bod,” albeit with a bit more muscle than most.
“Excuse me.”
The sound of the man’s high, light voice nearly made him jump out of his skin. He turned to see the young Asian man standing before him, smiling. He’d taken off the coat and was wearing a colorful button-down shirt with a shiny texture, the top two buttons open to reveal his pale chest.
Frank leaned back, regarding him carefully. “Can I help you?”
The boy’s smile stretched into a small laugh, showing rows of round, white teeth. “Oh, no. I was just wondering if I could get you another drink?”
He gestured back at the bar, the sleeve of his shirt long enough that it bunched into his palms.
Frank frowned. “Are you a waiter or something?”
Embarrassment flickered across the boy’s face. “No, I…” His smile started to falter, but he pushed through with a last-ditch effort. “I just wanted to buy you a drink.”
“I’m good, thanks.” Frank turned his back to the kid, facing a bewildered John.
His friend glanced behind him, waiting for the boy to leave, then turned to Frank with wide eyes. “What the hell was that?”
“What?”
John looked at him like he was an idiot. “Are you kidding me? Some hot young guy comes up and offers to buy you a drink, and you treat him like he’s a fucking tax collector?”
“He wasn’t interested in me.”
John laughed in disbelief. “You can’t seriously be that bad at flirting. That guy was 100% into you! Helen Keller could see that!”
Frank looked behind him and saw the boy sitting at the bar now, facing away. He was thin, his long legs crossed under the bar. He sat alone.
“He probably just wanted a sugar daddy or something. Isn’t that what they call ‘em?”
John shook his head. “Okay, A: if that was the case, you should definitely take that deal, and B: guys who want a sugar daddy don’t usually offer to pay for drinks.”
Frank rolled his eyes. “Why would a guy like that even be into me? I’m old enough to be his grandfather.”
John took a deep, meditative breath as if to keep from exploding. “Holy hell, do I have my work cut out for me.”
He grabbed Frank’s shoulder and turned him toward the bar. “I want you to go over there, sit down next to him, and offer to buy him a drink.”
Frank’s eyes went wide. “What? No way!”
“Yes! It’s time for some exposure therapy. Think of it as fun, harmless flirting. A chance to exercise a muscle that you haven’t used since the ‘80s.”
“I don’t want to lead him on. What if he thinks I want to go home with him?”
“How about you just start with ‘Hello’ and go from there?”
After a minute or so of fruitless arguing, Frank found himself walking toward the young man at the bar, dreading every step. He felt like an idiot, going over to flirt with a guy who looked to be barely out of high school, but when he turned around, John was grinning at him like an idiot and giving him two thumbs up.
Finally, he was at the bar, and there was nothing to do but dive in.
“I’ll get another Yuengling,” he said to the bartender. He tilted his head at the boy in the seat next to him without looking at him and said, “And another one of… whatever he’s having.”
Frank sat down, forcing himself to turn and face the young man.
The boy was smiling at him, his cheeks pinched into dimples at the corners of his lips. “It’s a vodka cranberry,” he said, “although I’ve barely had a sip of this one.”
Frank turned red under his beard. “Um… well, you don’t have to drink it–”
“What’s your name?” He put a hand on his chest, which was smooth beneath the open buttons of his shirt. “I’m Crisanto. People call me Cris.”
“Frank.” Frank stuck his hand out, which Cris stared at in amusement.
The boy slid his smooth hand into Frank’s and shook it over-formally. “Nice to meet you, Frank,” he said in a fake deep voice.
Frank’s cheeks turned a deeper shade of red. God, everything he did made him seem like an out-of-touch old man. He wanted to run home and jump into bed. Cuddle up with his wife’s Grateful Dead t-shirt, which he couldn’t bear to give away, the one that still smelled a bit like her if he held it long enough. But he knew John would just make him come back and do this all over again.
“Crisanto,” he said awkwardly. “That’s uh… is that…”
Cris smiled again. “I’m Filipino,” he said.
Frank nodded. “Cool. I’m… like a bunch of Western European stuff mixed together. I don’t really know.”
Cris nodded in amusement. “Fun. So… what brings you to Rocks on a Tuesday night?”
My wife died.
I’ve never been with a man before.
I stupidly thought that 60 wasn’t too old to explore being bisexual.
“I’m just here with my friend,” he said, aiming a thumb back at John.
Cris’s smile faltered slightly. “Oh… is that your boyfriend? Or, husband?”
Frank shook his head quickly. “No, no. He’s just a friend. He’s got a husband of his own, great guy. His name’s Adam. Real sweetheart, doctor, great with kids.”
“I feel like I know him already,” Cris joked.
Frank scratched the back of his head. “I’m sorry. I’m rusty at this.”
Cris smiled sympathetically. “Me too.”
“Really?”
“It’s been a few years since I’ve been to a gay bar,” he admitted.
Frank frowned. “Was it even legal for you to be in a gay bar a few years ago?
Cris laughed. “I’m 28 years old.”
“Sorry,” said Frank. “Anyone under 30 is like a kid to me.”
“Well, my frontal lobe is supposed to be fully developed by now,” Cris said teasingly. “Not that I let that stop me. I’ve made a few mistakes in my youth, let’s say.”
“You say that like you’re an old man.”
“Takes one to know one.”
Cris winked at him. Frank felt a flush along his neck and up his face.
“I’m 60,” he said out of nowhere. “Just so you know.”
“Good to know.”
“So, I’m not like… available. To date.”
Cris raised an eyebrow. “60-year-olds don’t date?”
“Not 25-year-olds, they don’t.”
“28,” Cris corrected. “And who said we were dating? I thought we were just sharing a drink at a bar.”
Thankfully, the bartender chose that moment to bring them both another drink. Frank took it and drank a big swig, eager to calm his nerves. He hadn’t anticipated actually talking to any men tonight, so to be here flirting with a stranger, a man, was a big step for him.
“Can I ask you something?”
Frank looked up to see Cris gazing at him with those big, round eyes. He nodded.
“You’re not married, are you? Because a lot of guys say they don’t want to date when secretly they’re hiding a wife and eight kids at home.”
Frank felt his throat get tight. He cleared it and said, “No, I’m not married.”
Cris smiled again, and it almost made Frank want to smile too.
Almost.
“Good. Because you know what they say: fool me once, shame on you. Fool me seventeen times…”
Frank did laugh at that one, which made the boy light up even more. He was starting to relax, whether because he was more comfortable or because he was halfway through his second beer, he didn’t know.
“What about you?” he asked. “You don’t have a boyfriend or something waiting for you at home?”
Cris’s smile lessened. “No, I don’t have a boyfriend.”
“Then why haven’t you been to a gay bar in a few years?”
Cris wrapped his hands around his drink, swiveling a little in his chair. “Why don’t we talk about something else? What do you do for work?”
“I’m retired.”
Cris nodded. “Right. I guess that’s one of the perks of being 60, huh?”
“Most people don’t retire that young,” said Frank. “I was lucky.”
“I was just kidding,” Cris said with a smirk.
Frank felt stupid again, but his embarrassment was cut short when Cris asked, “What did you do before you retired?”
“I was a police officer.”
Cris sat up straight. “Oh, wow. I didn’t realize I was sleeping with the enemy.”
Now it was Frank’s turn to practice teasing. “Who said we were sleeping together? I thought we were just sharing a drink in a bar.”
Cris’s face stretched into another wide grin. “Oh, you’re good, Frank. Did you learn humor at the police academy?”
“I arrested a lot of standup comedians over the years,” he said smoothly.
Cris laughed.
“I was a police lieutenant,” Frank continued. “Worked in the homicide department.”
“Ah, so you only locked up killer comedians.”
“If their jokes were bad enough.”
Cris turned toward him in his chair, crossing one leg over his knee. “I heard a really good one the other day, wanna hear it?”
Frank shrugged. “Sure.”
“If you don’t laugh, you have to promise not to arrest me.”
“I told you, I’m retired.”
“So’s William Shatner. Did you know he opened a lingerie store?”
Frank furrowed his brow. “Really?”
Cris nodded. “It’s called Shatner Panties.”
It took Frank a moment, but when he got it, the laughter billowed out of him like smoke.
“Oh, fuck. Shat in her panties, that’s a good one!”
Cris wiped his brow in mock exaggeration. “Phew. I thought I was gonna get handcuffed there for a moment.”
Frank came down from his laughter and took a swig of his beer. “Is that something you’re into?”
The energy shifted immediately. Cris’s face went still, and for a moment, Frank thought he’d gone way too far.
“Shit, I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “I didn’t mean to–”
“No,” Cris said. “It’s fine. To tell you the truth, I was just picturing it, and…” He fanned himself dramatically. “Wow. Yep, I just came. Thank you, Frank. I think I have what I came for.”
Frank laughed again, half out of humor and half out of relief that he wasn’t blowing this.
“I’m sorry about all that back there,” he said after a moment. “With the drink and stuff. I guess I was just surprised, is all.”
Cris nodded. “Most people are—I’m extremely hot.”
Frank laughed. “Seriously, though. I don’t know why a 26-year-old would be interested in a guy more than twice his age. I feel like you should be in school, or something.”
“First of all, I’m 28,” Cris said again. “Second of all, I haven’t been in school for six years. And third of all, I approached you because I thought you seemed nice.”
Frank snorted. “Guess I popped that bubble real fast, huh?”
Cris frowned. “I think you are nice, Frank. And handsome, even if you are twice my age. Because you’re twice my age, actually.”
Frank raised an eyebrow. “It’s true, then? About younger guys liking older men?”
Cris shrugged. “I can’t speak for everyone, but… yeah. I like older guys. A lot.”
Frank gave him a small smile. “I like you. I mean, uh, I think you’re cool. You seem like a good guy.”
“And devastatingly beautiful?”
Frank knew he was kidding, but as he looked at the young man now, his words felt like the unvarnished truth. He was the polar opposite of Georgia, who had been short and light-haired, not to mention a woman. But Cris was beautiful in his own way, masculine in some ways and feminine in others. His jaw was sharp and well-defined, his eyes doe-like and innocent. There was something about looking in them that made Frank feel unsettled, but in a good way. Like Cris was seeing something in him he thought he’d gotten good at hiding.
“You’re a good-looking dude,” he said finally. “But you’re way too young for me.”
Cris nodded. “Of course. I’ll hit you up when I get my AARP card, and maybe we can try this again?”
Frank chuckled. He wasn’t going to make this easy on the old man, was he?
“I don’t think I have what you’re looking for,” he said.
“How do you know what I’m looking for?”
“Don’t young guys like older men because they want someone… you know, experienced?”
“Sometimes.” Cris raised an eyebrow. “You don’t have a lot of experience?”
Frank took a sip of his beer. “Try zero.”
Excitement flashed over Cris’s eyes. “Are you a 60-year-old virgin?”
“No, of course not,” Frank said irritably. “I’ve just… never been with a man before.”
“I got that,” Cris said teasingly. “Kinda from the moment you walked over here.”
That gave Frank pause. “What gave it away?”
“If I say the flannel, will you take that the wrong way?”
Frank looked down at his red-and-black checkered shirt. “What’s wrong with the flannel?”
Cris shook his head, smiling sweetly. “Absolutely nothing.”
Frank couldn’t help but feel like he was the butt of the joke again. He was used to guys at the precinct ragging on each other, but that was different. He didn’t care what they thought of him, so he didn’t take anything personally. With Cris…
“I should probably get back to my friend,” he said, starting to get up from his chair.
Cris put his hand on his wrist. “Hey… I’m sorry.” He looked up at Frank with those wide eyes. “I don’t mean to offend you. I know I can be… a lot. I only tease guys that I like.”
Frank looked down at Cris’s hand, the thin, soft fingers wrapped delicately around his wrist. It had been over a year since he’d been touched by anyone in an intimate sort of way, since he’d held Georgia’s hand in that awful hospice bed, surrounded by the sickly sweet stench they use to try to distract from the death all around.
He sat back down.
Cris smiled at him, then nodded at his empty beer. “Can I get the next round?”
“I shouldn’t,” he said carefully. “I gotta drive home after this.”
He saw Cris’s bummed expression, then said, “But maybe a soda? Diet Coke?”
Cris’s smile returned, and Frank felt like the sun shone on him.
The bartender brought them both another drink, even though Cris had barely started on his second. Frank was starting to loosen up even more, aided by the caffeine and Cris’s warm, gentle energy. Talking to a man wasn’t as difficult as he thought it would be, although maybe it was this particular man who was easy to talk to.
“You went to an all-boys school, and you’re telling me you’ve never fooled around with a guy?” Cris said incredulously.
Frank closed one eye. “Well… maybe there was one guy.”
Cris’s jaw dropped open playfully. “You have to tell me everything. This is a no judgment zone. Was he your bunkmate?”
Frank shook his head. “It wasn’t in school. It was, ah… in the army.”
Cris’s eyes went so wide they nearly popped out of his head. “You had a gay love affair in the army?”
Frank laughed. “It wasn’t a gay love affair. It wasn’t anything, really. There was just this guy I was real close with. His name was Dan. We were buds, used to joke around a lot and take the piss out of each other.”
“And that led to… jerking each other off?”
Frank was silent for a moment.
“Oh my God. I was kidding, but… really?”
“We’d had a lot to drink,” Frank admitted. “And it was only the one time. I don’t even know if he was into me that way. I sort of told myself it was just the alcohol, but deep down I knew it was more.”
“That must have been really tough,” said Cris. “Like… couldn’t you have been kicked out if anyone found out?”
“It wasn’t something I was eager to repeat,” said Frank. “Anyway, after I was discharged, I met Georgia, and that was that.”
“Georgia?”
Frank stiffened slightly. He hadn’t meant to bring up his wife tonight. He hadn’t meant to bring up any of this, really. Damn the alcohol.
“She was my wife,” he said quickly.
“Oh.”
The awkwardness hung in the air between them. It was clear Cris wanted to ask more, but Frank’s energy must have warned him off, because instead he said, “So, you decided after all this time to finally explore being with a guy?”
Frank nodded. “This was supposed to be a practice run. Coming out to a gay bar. Being around other men. Flirting.”
Cris smiled playfully. “Well, A+ on all marks, so far.”
He finished his second vodka cranberry, then took the straw and plopped it into his third. He swirled it around slowly, then said, “You know, if you need any help… practicing anything else…”
He looked up at Frank, his eyes nervous but playful. “I’m an awfully good teacher.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
John stood by the bar, his arms folded incredulously.
“I take you out for one night, on a Tuesday, no less, and you’ve already bagged a guy?”
“We’re just going back to my place for a nightcap,” Frank mumbled.
John eyed him disbelievingly. “Right. Because there’s nowhere else you could have a drink together.”
“You’re the one who wanted me to get back out there!”
John raised his hands. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m thrilled for you! I just wish I had known it was so easy to get guys. Would have saved me months of courting Adam.”
“It’s beginner’s luck.” Frank spotted Cris coming out of the restroom. The boy smiled at him, tying his coat around his waist.
He clapped John on the shoulder. “Thanks for everything, man. You’ve been a real pal.”
“Good luck—and don’t forget to use a condom! You don’t want to get him pregnant,” John called after him.
Frank snorted. “Right,” he said dismissively. John had a weird sense of humor.
John watched him walk away, shaking his head. “Yeah, yeah. Beginner’s luck, my ass.”
Frank walked over to Cris and offered him his arm. “Ready?”
Cris looked down at his arm in amusement, the same way he had when Frank had offered a handshake back at the bar. “I feel like a Southern Belle. Only without the racism.”
He took Frank’s arm nonetheless, sidling close to him as they left the bar. The chilly wind hit them the second they left, like an ice-cold whip.
“Remind me why I live in Albany and not, like, Palm Springs?” said Cris as they hurried to Frank’s car.
“Here, hop in.” Frank held the passenger door open for Cris, using his body to shield him from the cold.
The boy hopped into the passenger seat, rubbing his hands together and blowing on them.
Frank curved around to the driver’s seat, then shut the door behind him, blocking the freezing wind. Even after less than a minute outside, he could feel a chill in his bones.
“This car has heat, right?” Cris asked.
“Heated seats, too,” said Frank.
Cris sighed as the seat under him began to warm up. “Talk about luxury.”
“I’m just a 15-minute drive away,” Frank said as he pulled out of the parking lot.
Cris nodded. “It’s all good. Full disclosure, I do have my location sharing on. Just in case you, you know. Murder me and all.”
Frank raised an eyebrow. “You get a lot of close calls?”
Cris shrugged. “Well, when you get into cars with strange old men, you gotta learn to protect yourself. That’s what Mom always said, at least.”
“Your parents, uh… do they know about you… you know?”
“That I’m gay, or that I like older men?”
Frank scratched the back of his head. “The first one. Or both, I guess.”
Cris smiled. “Yeah, they know I’m gay. I haven’t given them the full rundown on my dating preferences.”
Frank nodded. “And they’re cool with that? You being gay?”
“Sure. It’s 2026, and they’re modern enough. Well, my mom is. Pretty sure my dad couldn’t work a computer to save his life. But they’re cool with it.”
“You’re lucky.”
Cris looked over at him, and for a moment, he had that pitying look in his eyes that Frank hated. “I guess it must have been tough. Going through that in the 80s and all.”
Frank shrugged. “It didn’t really affect me. I was married, and I never… you know.”
“But still,” said Cris. “Knowing that about yourself. Seeing what was happening to people like you. You must have felt lonely.”
Frank felt a tightening in his throat. He pressed the knob for the radio. To his surprise, he recognized the opening notes of “Touch of Grey.” He started laughing.
“What?” Cris asked.
“You ever listen to the Grateful Dead?”
Cris shook his head.
Frank listened to the familiar chorus, feeling a bittersweet melancholy flood through him. He hadn’t been able to bring himself to listen to them since Georgia passed, but hearing them now didn’t paralyze him like he thought it would.
I will get by
I will get by
I will get by
I will survive
“You have a nice voice,” Cris said.
Frank looked over at him. The boy was smiling at him from the passenger’s seat, his curly black hair falling into his eye. He hadn’t even realized he’d been singing along.
“Georgia was the real singer,” he said. “She had a beautiful voice.”
His stomach turned as he realized he’d brought her up again without thinking. Fuck, what was wrong with him? He was here with a cute young guy, about to experiment sexually with a man for the first time, and he couldn’t shut up about his dead wife.
Thankfully, Cris didn’t say anything. They drove on in silence, listening to the song as they exited the city and drove toward Frank’s home in Westmere.
As they got close, Frank felt his palms suddenly start to get sweaty. The idea of being with a man was becoming tantalizingly close to becoming real, and now he was afraid of chickening out before it actually happened. He took a deep breath to calm himself. He didn’t have to do anything he didn’t want to do, he reminded himself. If all they did was kiss, that would still be more than he’d ever done before.
He pulled into his driveway, parking in front of the garage that was too full of junk and old belongings to fit the car anymore. He turned off the ignition, then sat in his seat for a moment, trying to summon the courage to get out of the car.
“Nice place,” said Cris. “I’ve never met a homeowner before. Plenty of homos, but…”
When Frank looked up at him, he was smiling. He’d only known the boy for a couple of hours, but it was clear that Cris smiled a lot.
Frank liked that about him.
“I can take your coat,” he said as Cris stepped over the threshold into his home.
Cris slipped his coat off his shoulders, handing it over to Frank. “This place is even nicer on the inside.”
Frank hung Cris’s coat in the front hall closet, then flipped the lights on for the hallway to the living room. “Thanks. We had it renovated a few years back.”
Cris followed him through the hallway, studying the paintings that lined the walls. “I love the art. And the wallpaper, it’s very chic.” He looked pointedly at Frank and added, “For a 60-year-old.”
Frank almost said that it was Georgia who decorated the place, but he held his tongue. “Do you think maybe we could sit for a bit?” He gestured at the living room couch, a plush sectional that still bore the decorative pillows Georgia had picked out. “I could get you a drink, and we could just talk for a bit?”
Cris nodded. “Sure. Um—do you mind leaving it closed?”
Frank looked at him, confused.
Cris rubbed his arm awkwardly. “I have a rule if I’m hooking up with a guy. I don’t take drinks I don’t open myself. It’s not personal.”
Frank nodded. “Of course.”
He headed to the kitchen as Cris took a seat on the couch. His heart was racing as he pulled two beers out of the fridge.
He had a man in his home. On his couch. The same couch where he used to watch Jeopardy with his wife. What was he doing? He was in way over his head. He was 60, for crying out loud. He’d had a perfect marriage for over 30 years. He shouldn’t need anything else after Georgia.
But there was Cris, sitting on his couch surrounded by Georgia’s pillows, looking so beautiful with his dark, curly hair and smooth skin and soft hands…
“Here you go.” He held out the beer.
Cris took it with amusement. “Beer. I suppose it’s a fool’s errand to ask if you have any cider or White Claw?”
Frank winced. “Sorry. I’m more of a beer guy.”
“I’m just teasing.” Cris popped open his beer and took a sip. He leaned against the side of the couch to face Frank, tucking his legs underneath him.
Frank took a sip of his own beer, trying to focus on the feeling of the liquid going down his throat instead of his racing heartbeat.
He nearly jumped when he felt Cris’s hand on his own.
“Sorry,” Cris said. “Is this okay?”
Frank wanted to pull back, but he resisted. He nodded.
Cris slid his hand over Frank’s, intertwining his soft fingers with Frank’s rough ones. Frank closed his eyes, letting himself relax into this simple touch.
“You’re so handsome,” Cris whispered.
He opened his eyes to see the boy staring at him, eyes wide with longing.
“Really?”
Cris reached out a tentative hand and gently touched his beard. “Really.”
Frank closed his eyes and leaned into Cris’s touch, letting the boy stroke along his beard and the side of his face. He felt a warm sensation flood throughout his body, a release of tension he hadn’t even known he’d been holding. He turned his face toward Cris’s hand until his lips were touching the boy’s palm. Then he took the boy’s hand in his own and kissed it softly.
“Oh, Frank,” Cris said breathlessly.
Frank opened his eyes to see Cris staring at him with the same longing he could feel in his own heart. He cupped the side of the boy’s face, gently stroking his cheek with his thumb as Cris had done to him. Cris just stared at him with those wide eyes, as if begging him to lean in and kiss him.
Frank had waited long enough.
When their lips met, it was like all the tension in Frank’s body melted away in an instant. He felt his limbs go weak as his lips parted and his tongue slid into Cris’s mouth. He was kissing a man, a man young enough to be his son, and it was the most wonderful feeling he could ever remember having. Cris’s lips were warm and soft, his face smooth against Frank’s skin. Lust and longing coursed through his body, urging him forward.
But Cris was pulling away now, and Frank felt a gentle hand pressed against his chest.
“Was that… is something wrong?” he asked.
Cris shook his head. “No, I… I just thought maybe we might be more comfortable somewhere else? Like, your bedroom?”
Frank saw the shy smile on the boy’s face and knew he wasn’t being aggressive, just thoughtful. Whatever they were doing, doing it on the couch felt dirty. But with how much he’d already pushed himself tonight, he couldn’t bear the thought of bringing a man into the bed he’d shared with his wife.
“Is it all right if we stay here?” he asked. “Just for now?”
Cris nodded. “Okay.”
Frank reached out and touched the boy’s bottom lip with his thumb. “You’re so beautiful.”
Cris’s face stretched into a wide smile. “Thank you.”
“You must get that all the time,” said Frank. “Men throwing themselves at you.”
“Not as often as you would think,” Cris said teasingly. He took a sip of his beer, then said, “Um, I don’t actually hook up very often, to tell you the truth.”
Frank raised an eyebrow. “Really?”
Cris nodded. “It’s been a while. Tonight was kind of a practice run for me, too.”
Frank couldn’t imagine why such a beautiful young man would avoid dating, nor why he would break his dry run with someone like him. He wondered if Cris was damaged somehow, like he was.
“I’m enjoying practicing with you,” said Frank. “Maybe we could do some more?”
Cris smiled, then grabbed Frank’s flannel and pulled him in for another kiss. The kiss was more urgent this time, more full of energy and lust than the last one had been. Frank could feel himself getting hard, his body craving Cris’s. He let Cris pull him on top of him, until his body was covering the younger man’s. He cradled the back of the boy’s head, fingers curled through the boy’s hair as they kissed.
Cris’s whimpering drove him forward, urging him to touch more parts of his body. He slid his hand underneath the hem of Cris’s shirt, feeling his flat stomach and smooth chest. It was so strange, touching a man’s body instead of a woman’s, feeling the different muscles on his torso. And there was something else, too—the feeling of something hard digging into Frank’s leg.
Cris was erect. Because of him.
Frank broke the kiss, running his hand down Cris’s torso until he got to the boy’s belt. “Can I touch you?” he asked.
Cris nodded, his mouth open slightly to reveal the tip of his wet, pink tongue.
Frank undid Cris’s belt, then fiddled with the button as the boy writhed on the couch underneath him. His heart was racing like crazy as he anticipated seeing another man’s cock for the second time in his life. He lowered the zipper, revealing a pair of black briefs. Then he put his hand on Cris’s crotch, feeling the warm hardness that lay underneath.
“Oh,” Cris moaned. “Frank, that feels nice.”
Frank squeezed the boy’s package, exploring it through his underwear. He’d only felt a man’s genitals once before, and that was during a drunken hookup he barely remembered. Cris felt real, and warm, and all Frank wanted to do was take him in his hand and feel him.
He slipped his hand inside Cris’s underwear, feeling soft black hair and the hard, thick base of Cris’s dick. He wrapped his fingers around the boy’s cock, squeezing it gently and making Cris moan.
“Oh, Frank. Take it out, please.”
Frank pulled down Cris’s underwear to release his cock, letting out a small gasp as the boy’s manhood fell onto his leg. Cris was uncircumcised, unlike Frank, his cock sheathed in folds of skin that completely covered the head of his cock. He had a neat patch of black pubic hair above the base of his cock, with little curly black hairs covering underneath and the sides of his balls.
Frank drank in the sight of his cock, mesmerized. It wasn’t enormous, but it wasn’t small, either. It was beautiful and compact, a perfect fit for Frank’s hand. He stroked it slowly, watching the foreskin retract until the head of Cris’s cock met the light, shiny and wet with precum.
“Wow,” he said softly.
“Can I see y—oh, fuck!” Cris cried out as Frank took his cock into his mouth.
Frank felt he should have asked for permission, but he felt an overwhelming urge to taste this boy’s cock, to finally feel another man’s dick in his mouth. The taste was faint but clean, yet it was the texture that Frank loved. Feeling the softness of the boy’s foreskin sliding along his tongue, the warm pulsing of his shaft filling his mouth so sweetly, was like nothing Frank had ever experienced.
“Oh, Frank,” Cris moaned. “You feel so nice.”
Frank bobbed on Cris’s cock, easily swallowing the boy’s size despite his newness to cocksucking. He slid his hand along Cris’s torso, running his fingertips along the little ridges in his abdomen. Hearing Cris moan like that, so open and unashamed, made him feel incredible. The sexual yearning that he’d felt kindling the last few months roared to a full flame, filling him with urges he hadn’t felt in years.
“Frank, please,” Cris whimpered.
He took his mouth off the boy’s cock and gazed into his eyes.
“I want to see you,” said Cris. “All of you.”
Frank stood, fiddling with the buttons to his shirt as if he couldn’t get it off fast enough. Cris pulled himself back, lying against the arm of the couch as he watched the old man undress.
Frank felt a moment of self-consciousness as he slid the flannel from his shoulders, exposing his aged torso to this young, perfect thing. But Cris was staring at him with the same intensity he felt, his eyes roaming Frank’s torso like he wanted to devour him.
“Take it out,” he whispered. “Please.”
Frank undid his belt, then pulled his pants down to his ankles. He wasn’t wearing anything sleek and stylish like Cris, just a pair of tighty whities he’d had for years. The look on Cris’s face told him it didn’t matter—the boy licked his lips, leaning forward as Frank hooked his thumbs beneath his waistband and slowly lowered his underwear.
“Oh my God,” Cris said breathlessly. “Frank…”
Frank’s penis was circumcised, and bigger than Cris’s, though he thought the boy’s was more beautiful. Cris took him in his hand and began to stroke him, staring at his dick like it was the eighth wonder of the world.
Frank’s knees buckled when Cris took him in his mouth. His tongue was soft and delicate, rolling around the underside of Frank’s cock like he wanted to taste every inch of it. He put his hands in the boy’s hair, feeling the silky-smoothness of his jet-black curls as he fellated him.
This was incredible. So different from Georgia, from any woman he’d ever been with. His desire for Cris felt like a different flavor than that, not stronger, but equal and opposite. He wanted to devour the boy, to spill himself in his mouth and taste his essence in return.
Frank lay on the couch alongside Cris, taking his cock into his mouth in a 69 position. They sucked each other for a few minutes, their moans blending together as they brought each other to climax. Frank could feel himself getting close and wondered if he should warn Cris in case he didn’t want to catch his release in his mouth. But then he felt Cris moaning on his cock, and felt the surprising taste of warm semen flooding his tongue.
Frank swallowed the thick fluid, savoring his first-ever taste of cum. It wasn’t euphoric—it tasted slightly bitter and had a gooey texture that caught in the back of his throat—but it was exciting nonetheless to capture the boy’s essence and take it into his body. He felt himself cumming a moment later, and took his cock off the boy’s cock to grunt, “Oh, fuck…”
Cris sucked him even harder, holding his pulsing cock against his tongue as he unloaded down his throat. His body began to jerk and spasm as he rode the wave of his orgasm, his first inside of another person in he didn’t know how long. Finally, the wave crested, and he slowly began to return to himself.
When he opened his eyes, Cris was propped up on an elbow, smiling at him. “You cum a lot,” he said.
“It’s been a while,” said Frank.
Cris rolled onto his stomach, his briefs tucked under his round, pale ass. “You liked it?”
Frank stared at the boy’s bum, a familiar stirring sensation rising in him already.
“I did,” he said. “A lot.”
Cris smiled, resting his head on his arms. “Me too. It was quite a practice run, if I do say so myself.”
“Do you… wanna stay a little longer?” Frank asked hesitantly.
Cris raised his eyebrows, his mouth dropping open in surprise.
“You don’t have to,” said Frank. “If you need to get home, or something. But you’re welcome to.”
Cris stared at him for a moment, as if gauging whether he was serious or just being polite. “Sure, I’ll stay.”
Frank smiled wider than he felt was appropriate. “Okay. Okay, great!”
He pulled his underwear and pants back up, then slid his flannel back on. Cris did the same, pulling his pants up and tucking his deflated cock back inside his underwear. He glanced over at Frank’s crotch, then raised his eyebrow.
Frank looked down to see that he was still rock hard.
“Sorry,” he said awkwardly. He adjusted his cock in his pants, but you could still see a thick outline where his dick was.
“I’m just surprised you’re still raring to go,” said Cris. “Even I take a few minutes to recharge, and I’ve got three decades on you.”
Frank’s face turned beet red. “I, uh… took a Viagra.”
Cris’s eyes widened. “Oh! Nothing wrong with that. But um… when, exactly? I didn’t see you take anything since the bar.”
“I took it before I got to the bar.”
Cris laughed. “Really? Aren’t you supposed to take it like, 30 minutes before sex or something?”
Frank frowned. “I wanted to be ready, just in case.”
“Oh my God… you’ve been totally boned up for the last few hours, haven’t you?”
Cris was giggling now, but Frank didn’t feel like he was in on the joke.
He got to his feet. “I’m gonna use the bathroom,” he said gruffly.
Frank headed for the bathroom in the hallway, locking himself inside before Cris could see him lose his temper. He turned on the faucet, cupping water in his hands and splashing his face. He hated feeling vulnerable like this with another person, especially someone he barely knew. Maybe it had been a mistake to bring someone home so quickly. He should have followed John’s advice and taken things slowly. But it had been so nice, being intimate on the couch…
There was a knock at the door. “Frank?”
“Just a second,” he called out. He wiped his face with the hand towel, then opened the door.
Cris was standing there, his head drooping in apology.
“I’m an idiot,” he said softly. He shook his head and sighed. “I always do this. I get too comfortable, and I say dumb stuff to try to be funny. I wasn’t thinking.”
He looked up at Frank, and their eyes met. “Can we start over?”
Frank felt his frustration melt away. “Sure. Yeah, of course.”
Unsure exactly why, he put his hand on Cris’s shoulder and pulled the boy in for a hug. Maybe it was seeing him stand there so distressed, the fact that he was still hard, or the boy’s incredible beauty, but he wanted to touch him more than anything in the world.
Cris wrapped his hands around Frank’s lower back, resting his head on the older man’s chest and sighing deeply. They stood there for a moment, swaying slightly.
Frank could smell Cris’s shampoo, a faint pineapple scent that made him want to breathe in more deeply. He could stand there all day, just holding this boy, feeling his body pressed against his.
But then Cris’s hand was on his neck, and the boy was looking at him with those wide eyes, and their mouths were pressed against each other again. He felt that now-familiar urge, that burning need to shed his clothes and explore every inch of this man’s body over and over again.
Cris’s fingers were on the buttons of his flannel, clumsily undressing him as he did the same to the boy. Soon their shirts were on the ground, they were stepping out of their pants, shoes and socks were being kicked off and discarded in a trail to the bedroom. Frank hadn’t even realized they were moving in that direction, but his body knew what it wanted. He wanted Cris in his bed, wanted to open the boy up and take him all the way, even if it didn’t make sense, even if it would be better to take things slow, to get to know each other better before crossing that ultimate barrier.
By the time they reached the bedroom, they were both in their underwear. Frank slid his hands into Cris’s briefs to grasp the boy’s cheeks, kneading his soft flesh as they rubbed their cocks together. Cris fell back against the bed, his curls bouncing on his forehead as he looked up at Frank with dull, lust-filled eyes. Frank knelt over him, consumed with the desire to slide off the boy’s briefs and bury his cock inside him as soon as humanly possible.
He pulled Cris’s underwear off his ankles, leaving the boy naked. But as he reached for his own, Cris said, “Wait.”
Frank paused with his thumbs hooked in the waistband of his underwear. He was so hard he could barely stand it. “What?”
“Do you have a condom? Or lube?”
Frank went pale. “Uh… no…”
Cris bit his lip. “Shit. I would’ve brought one, but I didn’t think… You don’t have any at all?”
Having been married for 40 years, he hadn’t needed them. He should have thought to buy some tonight, especially if he’d been stupid enough to take Viagra that far in advance.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “Um… I’ve only been with one person in 40 years. And… not for a while.”
Cris nodded, weighing his words. “I mean, I am on Prep… and I do have Doxy Pep that I can take after.”
Frank frowned. “I, uh, don’t know what that means.”
Cris let out a small laugh. “Right. Well, I guess it’s okay just this once. After all…”
He sat up and smiled.
“What’s the worst that could happen?”
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