JOHN DARLING'S COMA
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Gary is flying out of Denver Airport because Cheyenne Airport didn't offer a direct flight to Billings, Montana. So, after an eighty-minute drive to the Denver Airport in Colorado, Gary driving, he drives directly to the Delta terminal, not to one of the airport's parking lots, telling John, "Thank you for coming with me, John. but please don't come into the terminal. I'm terrible at doing 'goodbyes,' especially with you. I don't want to leave with either of us crying. Let's have a kiss, and then I'll get out here."
He's flying coach on Delta Airlines. It's an hour and forty-four minutes flight to the training center in Billings, the most populous city in Montana. He'll take a hotel courtesy ride to the hotel where a room is reserved for his three-week stay, all expenses covered by Dickie's father, Mr. Marshall, his boss, and the owner of the two locations... Marshall's Auto Repair.
In the passenger seat, choking up, John leans over and kisses Gary, who is not a big make-out guy. Gary opens the door, then holds up his index finger, saying, "Be good while I'm gone, pretty boy! Do not invite anyone over to our apartment, okay? Do your weightlifting and exercise every day, and eat lots of high-calorie foods. I've been over all this with you twice already, so, um, well, don't let me down."
John, still holding Gary around the neck with both arms, tries kissing him again, but Gary pulls away, getting out, saying, "Pump as many calories into yourself as possible. While I'm dieting to lose thirty pounds, you're trying to put on a couple of pounds of muscle."
"Gee, I know, I know... you've told me ten times. Um, what's a good time for me to call you every day?"
Gary's getting his suitcase off the backseat, losing his patience, "I've told you twice already, do NOT call me! Text if you must. This separation is happening at a good time, as it will make you appreciate me more and bring us closer together."
John maneuvers over the gear shift and opens the driver's door, grinning and asking, "What should I do when I get wicked horny?"
Gary's slightly nervous about this trip and the responsibility of learning all the new computer info, so he's not amused by John's silliness, muttering, "Whatever you need to do. But, um, for me, try not to do it more than once every other day. Your ass belongs to me now, remember? Um, if you really, really must do it, I guess it'll be okay, but don't tell me about it! I've got a lot on my mind, Johnny. Sorry if I seem irritated with you. I'm not, seriously. I'll miss you! If you want, I'd like another kiss goodbye."
Surprise!
John hops out of the pickup, hugging Gary's fat waist and kissing his lips as Gary backs up, muttering through John's tongue in his mouth, "Okay! You've made me feel special. Be good; remember everything I've told you, and make me proud of you. Bye!"
He turns and jogs into the terminal as a cop starts frantically waving at John, yelling, "Hey, you! Move it! Get that truck outta here! This is a drop-off-only area!"
Driving away, John flashes the cop his middle finger, screaming... fuck you!"
Calming down, a few tears run down his face, surprising him. Whaaat? He didn't know he was crying until he drove away. Yeah, he's still getting too emotional over things that shouldn't really qualify for tears. Gary Thomas and John Darling might be in love. They're in a possibly developing relationship with good potential for love. That's for sure, even though it makes no sense. John has built it up in his mind that Gary's and his relationship is much more advanced than is logical, but there it is.
This is the recurring theme for them both: there's no realistic basis for them being in love, and yet, they are...
John cried a little while driving back to the apartment. Not boohooing, though, some tears. Just tears leaking out. He likes being with Gary and he does not like to be on his own. Shaking his head, he tries rationalizing that everyone would be as fucked up as he occasionally gets if their parents were killed in a car accident, and, like John, they almost died too but survived as a coma patient for over a month. Then, when coming out of the coma, there followed a couple of months with amnesia. Then, when you recall your memory, you realize not only are you an orphan alone in the world, but you're a gay orphan alone in the world. To make matters worse, except for one gay nurse who has taken pity on you, there isn't another significant person in your life. John asks out loud, rhetorically, "Do you think all that might be a reason to get emotional occasionally, huh, do you?"
He knows he's feeling sorry for himself, but further justifying his condition, he dwells on the fact that for several weeks, Andy was his only friend on Earth. Andy was the only person he knew in the world during his amnesia period. Eight billion people on Earth, and he only knew one of them. Oh, he eventually could remember a few others, but other than Dickie, the others meant nothing real to him, and his odd situation of not having living relatives made his situation worse.
Nodding as he drove, he thought how all of those facts fucked him up quite a bit, more than he probably realized. Recently connecting with Dickie and meeting Gary Thomas has been great, but now he was up to a total of only three people out of eight billion. Yeah, he now knows Denny and Clarence, too, but can't count them as friends, not yet anyway. Clarence has good potential, though. Well, gee yeah, Clarence fucked John good with his seven-inch black dick.
He was thinking these thoughts, still silently tearing up, overly emotional, driving back to the apartment. He promises himself he'll seek professional help dealing with these teary instances, and then he thinks of Brian O'Neil, his college roommate and sex buddy for two college years.
That gets his mind off being alone and missing Gary for the next three weeks, but oddly, he can't decide how he feels about Brian now. As much sex as Brian and John had together, now that John's experienced a couple of other sexual 'tops,' he's confused about Brian's interest in him. Was he only Brian's sex toy bottom boy, and now Brian's moved on to another bottom boy sex toy? That's what it feels like, although John hasn't contacted Brian.
Curious that Brian gave up so early and easily trying to discover what happened to John Darling.
That thought was curious, indeed. Well, at least his eyes have dried. John didn't know what to think driving into the town of Buford and, three minutes later, onto Gary's apartment building's parking lot. He's trying to talk himself into thinking that the apartment was 'theirs,' his and Gary's, like Gary said. He's hoping the apartment will eventually feel like 'home.' That's a long shot, but...
Inside the apartment, he looks around as a few more tears form. For the next three weeks, John will be alone again. He wiped his eyes, crawled on top of the unmade bed, and buried his face in Gary's pillow, telling himself there was no logical reason for him being this broken up about Gary being away. Be that as it may, he remains this broken up.
He's not faking it, either; he is already missing Gary. He gets emotional again, thinking about Andy. What a great friend! Andy had tried his best to be John's leader and top, dominant guy for sex, but that stressed Andy out too much, so he jumped at the chance to be Dickie's submissive bottom boy. Andy is a submissive bottom like John, but for John's sake, and it helped John a lot, Andy faked being a dominant top... doing it as best he could.
Then there's Dickie, who wasn't happy being Gary's submissive bottom boy because Dickie's always been a dominant top himself. Still, Dickie played the submissive role because there weren't any good alternatives, and, like John, Dickie felt that there was a mysterious something about Gary that was sexually attractive. Whatever it was, he never figured it out.
Fat or not, there is something attractive or captivating about fat Gary Thomas. Yeah, but when Dickie met Andy, whatever had attracted Dickie to Gary vanished. Dickie could be the dominant top again, and that outweighed some mysterious attraction to Gary.
Dickie liked his submissive bottom boyfriends to be girlie and extra-submissive. Andy fits the bill perfectly! Andy and Dickie had both been in the wrong sexual roles but now corrected that when Andy became Dickie's submissive bottom boy.
That's awesome for them, John thought, but what about me? John wonders: 'Did Gary and I end up together as foursome leftovers? Are we faking having a serious attraction for one another? Why am I attracted so strongly to him? Him being a fat, bearded, hairy guy who is always yelling at me, criticizing everything I do. What's up with that?'
Then, he says out loud, "But I'm not faking it! I am very much attracted to Gary."
Hugging Gary's pillow, John rolls over onto his back, saying aloud, "Okay, I still can't articulate why I'm seriously attracted to him, but I am. Well, I certainly feel safe with Gary, so that's one concrete reason right there. Yes, for a while, I could feel safe with Andy, too, then I'd think about it too deeply and realize it was a sham because he's as submissive and in need of a strong boyfriend as much as I am."
Really thinking about it, he frowns, 'But why didn't my childhood best friend, Dickie, choose me as his submissive boyfriend instead of Andy?'
John didn't take into consideration all the years they were best friends, both gay-leaning, but neither ever took the last step of having sex together. They'd done a circle jerk a few times in middle school but then stopped cold turkey and never revisited anything even slightly gay again. Why was that, especially when both guys went on to have lots of sex with other guys?
Who knows why? Dickie and John simply didn't sexually match up, weren't sexually compatible, didn't click... whatever the fuck. And they still don't, although they're like brothers regarding their feelings for one another. Yeah, it's weird how the mind works...
Flopping over on his stomach, still hugging Gary's pillow, John thought, 'I could have asked myself, why did I choose Gary over Dickie, instead of why Dickie chose Andy over me? That's another way of looking at it. Maybe it was Dickie and Andy who were the leftovers, but what does it matter in either case? Dickie and Andy have really hit it off, and so have Gary and me.'
He rethinks everything, ending with affectionate thoughts about Dickie and Andy and sexy submissive thoughts about his man, Gary Thomas. John finally dozes off with a boner in his pants.
After a nap, John's eyes open at ten after six, and he's hungry. It's dinner time, so what to eat? Then, loneliness overtakes his hunger, and he texts Andy: 'Hi, buddy. What are you doing? Can I have dinner with you?'
Staring at his phone, waiting for a reply text, he gives up after five minutes. Putting the phone in his pocket, he gets off the bed. Then, standing next to the bed, he takes his phone out again and texts Gary, 'I hope everything went super perfect. I miss you already!'
He thought about signing it, 'Love, pretty boy,' but decided that would piss off Gary, so he didn't sign it at all. Five minutes later, staring at the phone, John pouts and puts the phone in his pocket again. He has a little cry on his way to the bathroom to piss. After pissing, he sits on the toilet seat and jerks off.
Taking a few deep breaths and staring at his cum drooling down the free-standing toilet paper pole, Gary sighs and says out loud, "I should have used the dildo," then cleans up his mess.
He knows that Gary had stocked up on Stoffer's and Boston Market frozen dinners in the freezer for him. Looking through the choices, he picks a high-calorie meatloaf and mashed potato dinner. While it's cooking in the microwave, he uses the blender to make a high-calorie milkshake with Ben and Jerry's vanilla ice cream, vanilla extract, and whole milk, the way Gary showed him.
Surprisingly, the dinner was good. Obviously, the milkshake was fabulous. He had a large slice of blueberry pie and another milkshake for dessert.
Smoking a cigarette on the balcony, he felt a little nauseous, being overly full, then went into the bedroom to hold Gary's pillow to his face as he jerked off again. After that, walking around the apartment, he texted Andy again, 'Hey, what are you and Dickie doing tonight?'
After five minutes, he texted Gary, 'Please send me a text. I'm lonely without you with me.'
No return text, so, for reasons he couldn't figure out, he spent two hours cleaning the apartment from kitchen to bathroom, then took a shower in the newly sparkling clean bathroom. After that, he put on clean girlie panties. Gary wanted John to wear underpants to bed, so he wore the panties even though he preferred sleeping naked. Climbing into bed, he's thinking, 'After cleaning it, the apartment feels a little like home.' He goes to sleep, hugging Gary's pillow.
He woke up at six-thirty to get ready for work, then remembered he didn't have work today. He won't have work until next Monday, so he thought about Gary fucking him, sprung a boner, jerked off shooting his load on the sheets, and then went back to sleep.
John's staring at Gary's old-fashioned alarm clock. Its little hand is on the nine, and the big hand is on the three... quarter after nine. He hugs Gary's pillow, but when trying to smell Gary's scent on the pillow, he can't. It drifted away, so John jumps up and strips the bed, then makes a big bundle of laundry, puts on shorts and a T-shirt, steps into Gary's sandals, and carries the laundry to the basement, but can't find the washer/dryer area. It should be in the basement... right?
A very tall, slim lady closes her basement storage unit and says, "Are you looking for the laundromat?"
"What? I mean, yes. I thought the basement, um..."
"It's on the first floor. You must be new in the building, huh?"
"What? Um, oh yes, I'm new. Thank you for telling me about the, um..."
He carries the laundry basket back to the elevator, and the tall lady walking with him says, "My daughter, Ellie, would be happy to show you around the building and Burford, too, if you're new to the area."
"Your daughter? Oh, um, that's nice, but I must get to work pretty soon; I'm, ah..."
She grins, "Don't be shy. Ellie would be happy to help you with just about any, um..." she leans past John to hit the elevator button for the lobby, asking, 'What unit are you in?"
John lies, "Ah, apartment 418..."
The elevator opens, and they get in with the tall lady, Ellie's mother, saying, "Funny we haven't seen you before this. We're in apartment 414."
John's face is scarlet with embarrassment, caught in a bullshit lie as he asks, "What?" and then gets off at the first stop, the lobby... his face almost on fire. The tall lady chuckles as the doors close, and John, sweat dripping off his face, looks for a sign directing him to the laundromat area.
A pale, fourteen or fifteen-year-old boy with eyeglasses and a tight buzzcut hairdo walks in the front door and asks John, "Are you lost? The laundry room is way around the other side of the building."
John stares at the kid, then says, "Thanks, um, where did you get that haircut?"
Frowning, squinting his eyes as he's suspiciously muttering, "Randy's Barbershop, why?"
"It looks good, ah, I'm getting a flattop when, um, my..."
The kid walks past John, mumbling, "Don't waste your breath. If I tell my old man you tried to pick me up, he'll kick your ass up and down the block."
"What? I didn't do anything. I..." but the kid gets on the elevator car that John just got off of, giving John the finger.
John's eyes water as he hurries around to the other side of the building, thinking, 'See! I need Gary to straighten these fucking asshole people out. He'll be the one kicking ass up and down the block, and it won't be my ass!'
With a snarly expression on his face, pissed off because, somehow, he's doing everything wrong, he finds the laundry area and stuffs the sheets and dirty clothes in two washing machines, then buys two pods of detergent and fabric softener, tosses a pod in each machine, inserts more money than makes any sense, and turns on the machines.
Looking around, John doesn't see a notice telling how long the washing cycles take. There isn't anything helpful, just warnings that this area is monitored and that no perverts trying to pick up pale, goofy-looking kids with tight buzzcut hair are allowed. He shakes his head, then cautiously looks both ways in the corridor before hurrying to an elevator on this side of the building and up to the third floor.
Safely inside the apartment, John mutters, "Now I've got two people to avoid when coming or going from here."
It's a quarter to ten, and he hasn't had breakfast. Looking in the refrigerator, he sees the two high-calorie smoothies Gary made for him, plus directions for how to make these two and others. They all have over six hundred calories. John drinks a pineapple banana smoothie, which has 615 calories, while reading the lists of high-calorie fast food restaurant dishes, the highest being a Sonic peanut butter caramel pie, which has 2170 calories. Sounds good...
After drinking the four-cup smoothie, John burps and almost throws up. He watches a talk show on TV where young Hispanic women are accusing an older Hispanic man of cheating them out of money by romancing them, pretending to be about to propose marriage. "Whaaat?"
He turns off the TV and reads Gary's instructions for lifting weights, which he does for a half hour. Did he say to lift every day or every other day? Exhausted, he lies on the small sofa, gasping and feeling sick. He should have waited longer after drinking that smoothie before lifting weights.
Taking his phone out, he looks at a selfie of Gary and him standing in front of the pickup. Staring at it, he sees he's almost two inches taller than Gary. "What?" he murmurs, "I thought Gary was taller than me. He seems taller." In the selfie, Gary looks fatter than John thought he was, and he mutters, "He doesn't look that fat in person. It must be the camera angle or something."
Looking at Gary's picture gives John a shot of stimulation in his dick, so he gets lube and the dildo. Then pulls his pants down and lubes his ass, then screws in the dildo, making a face as it begins hurting the fatter it got, the further it went up his ass. Gasping, his cock a steel pipe sticking straight out, John slowly jerks off, and a minute later, he watches his cum fly in an arch, just missing the coffee table, landing on the throw rug under in front of the TV. Sighing and squeezing his dick, tears run down John's face because he's lonely and again feels like he doesn't have any friends, and he misses Gary making all the decisions for him.
He remembers his laundry and, making sure he has the apartment key, he cautiously looks for the pale-complexed teenager and the tall, thin lady on his way to the lobby and then to the laundry area, where he puts the washed clothes in a large dryer. After putting more money than seems fair into the dryer, he turns it on and cautiously returns to the apartment, telling himself, "It's almost one o'clock, so I should be thinking about lunch."
That thought makes him feel nauseous again, so he exercises for almost an hour. At two o'clock, sweating like mad, he cautiously goes to the laundry room and piles the dry clothes in a basket. Gary told him to fold the clothes, not pile them in a basket, but John didn't want to stay outside the apartment that long. In the bedroom, he leaves the clean, unfolded clothes on the bed and looks at the selfie of him and Gary again, and he gets weepy.
Wiping his eyes, he asked out loud, "What would Gary tell me to do?" He gets up, remembering to wipe up the cum splash on the throw rug with wet paper towels, then he lifts weights for almost a half hour. His arms ache, so he takes a long hot shower, jerks off after drying, then gets dressed and sees a text on his phone.
It's from Andy, 'Johnny, I'm sorry I missed your text yesterday. Dickie spent the night with me at my place, but we were out for dinner when you texted, and I didn't have my phone. Dickie doesn't want me carrying my phone everywhere. Maybe we can have lunch together tomorrow. Text me, love, Andy.'
His place?
Frowning because he couldn't imagine why Dickie didn't want Andy carrying his phone. Hmm, unless it was because Dickie didn't want John and Andy hooking up now that Gary was away, which is exactly what John wanted to do. If Dickie would fuck him, John would be texting him, but Dickie has made it clear he wasn't interested in doing that.
All the same, John is excited that someone texted him and texts Andy back, 'I've been missing you, Andy, and I want to give you your pay for being my nurse the last couple of weeks. Can I come over to see you?'
It is a little weird to ask if it's alright to go to his house, but John doesn't want to be too pushy. Andy referred to it as his place.
Andy texts back, 'Right now, I'm getting my hair done at Bertha's Salon in downtown Cheyenne. Dickie told me he likes curly hair on his bottom girls, so I'm going to surprise him with my curly hair permanent. I want to please him so much. I'm swooning over my man, Dickie Marshall.'
John texted back, 'What, a curly permanent? Hey, Gary told you guys you're both getting Wyoming Cowboy Flattop at Randy's barbershop with Gary and me when he gets back from his training program.'
Andy texts, 'I just got called for my permanent, Johnny. Quickly, I'll tell you that Dickie put the kibosh on Randy's barbershop Cowboy flattop haircuts. He's letting his flattop grow out. The flattop stuff is for you and Gary, not for Dickie and me. He said he and I are onto other things. I've got to run. Maybe we can do lunch tomorrow.'
John wanted to ask why he couldn't see him later today and then have dinner with them, but Andy made it clear he was avoiding that question because he or, more likely, Dickie didn't want John hanging out with them. Dickie doesn't want John hanging out with his boyfriend/girlfriend when he's at work.
He started folding the just-washed and dried clothes, starting with the sheets, but he couldn't for the life of him figure out how to fold the fitted sheet, so he didn't fold it. He made up the bed with the fitted sheet, putting the other set of sheets he was going to make the bed up with back in the closet.
After finishing making up the bed, he went back to folding clothes, realizing he was crying again. He became aware of his crying from seeing wet spots on the clothes he was folding. He sat down on the bed and thought about looking for a doctor online who could help him with his crying jags and his overly emotional mood swings.
Then he thought, 'Clarence! I'll text him! He put his phone number in my phone!'
Looking at the only places where the number would be, he found nothing. Clarence took John's number but didn't give John his. Out loud, John asks, "What's wrong with me? How come no one wants me to be with them?" Angrily, he looks for Brian O'Neal's number and, without thinking it through, calls Brian, muttering, ''Fuck this! I'll fly to North Carolina and visit Brian at Duke.''
No, you won't.
A rude message comes after a high-pitched squeak sound, 'The number you've dialed is no longer in use...' John yells, "Go fuck yourself!" without knowing who he's yelling at. He's frustrated! Then he thinks, 'The Purple Club! What was the eighteen-year-old boy's name who fucked me? Really cute hottie with a long dick.' It couldn't be Walter, could it? No, it was William. William, what, though? He never gave a last name. Fuck!'
Well, what difference does that make? What could he do if he had a last name? Drive to Colorado and go in the club alone on the long shot that William is there and wants to fuck him again? Get serious! John texts the last person whose phone number he knows... Dickie Marshall. 'Hi, Dickie. Wassup?'
Ten seconds later Dickie calls John, "Hi, my best buddy for most of my life."
John goes, "Hi!" and Dickie continues before John can get another word in, "Andy told me you've been texting him, and it probably seems to you that Andy and I are avoiding you, and in a way we are. We love you, Johnny Darling, but we're forming a really tight relationship that will last a long time. In this early period, you're too much of a temptation for Andy, so I've forbidden him to get involved with you TOO DEEPLY. He asked me if he could have lunch with you tomorrow, and I've given him permission as a test that he can be with you without giving in to your oversexed nature."
"What? Oversexed..."
"Yes, as I said, we love you, but we're in the beginnings of something really good. Please, my best buddy ever, please promise me you won't nag Andy for sex because he is kind-hearted and would give in. Please..."
John says, "Huh? I love you guys, too, and I promise not to do anything to ruin what you guys are building. Anyway, Gary is only allowing me to have a side fuck once every other day while he's gone. How about you, though, my lifelong best friend? I mean, would you be kind-hearted enough to fuck me every other day until Gary gets back?"
"I'm going to assume you're making a joke. Are you?"
Obviously, he wasn't, but lies, "Of course, I'm joking. Um, but can I have dinner with you guys occasionally?"
"Nah. Not right now, but we'll talk about it next week. I'm at work now, and I've gotta get back to it. Be a good boy at lunch tomorrow with Andy! Love you, buddy."
Without thinking too deeply about any of that, he finishes folding the clothes and then goes down to the lobby, looks around, and quickly jogs outside and gets in the pickup. Then he cries but for only ten seconds. John drives to Arby's for a roast turkey and bacon sandwich with extra mayo and a large Coke--total calories: 1012.
He walks around after the late lunch, smoking and trying to make eye contact with the Laramie County Community College boys walking around in twos and threes. He knows it's a long shot, but nothing tried, nothing, you know, gained or something...
He goes into a CVS, buys a New York Times for its crossword puzzle, and looks at it, feeling someone is staring at him. After lighting another cigarette, he reads a few cues for the crossword puzzle and immediately knows the correct word. Nodding, he puts the paper under his arm, looking forward to doing the puzzle.
With his extraordinary good looks, John's always getting gawked at, but covertly, so he doesn't know who might be showing an interest in him. He isn't far from the college campus, but it's a very chilly day, and classes are in session, so there aren't many students walking around, and girls outnumber guys two to one. He sees some girls looking at him and whispering behind their hands to their friends.
Stepping on his cigarette butt, John turns around, muttering, "If I were straight, I'd have it made. But I'm not, so I don't." A big ugly dude with a shaved head arrogantly asks, "Are you talking to me, maggot?"
"What? Maggot? No, I'm not talking to you. I'm talking to myself."
"Whatever, fag. Keep moving, or I'll kick your ass!"
Shaking his head in disbelief, thinking he shouldn't be allowed out on his own, and, while walking back to the pickup, he gets very pissed off at Gary for leaving him alone, saying out loud, "I'm still damaged mentally."
After parking at the apartment, he sees the pale-complexed kid talking with a man in the lobby who might be a security guard. So John walks back to his truck and drives the eight miles to his parents' house, um, his house, but no one is home. Of course, they're not home. Andy is at the beauty parlor, and Dickie is at work. John has a key and lets himself in. It's neat as a pin inside, with nothing out of place. His bedroom is neat, with the bed made and the smell of lemon furniture polish in the air. Andy's taking good care of the house.
John spends an hour going through everything in his bedroom, packing a large suitcase full of clothes and mementos he wants to take back with him to his new home--Gary's apartment. On a paper pad, he leaves a note on his desk saying he picked up a few of his things. He thanks Andy for taking such good care of the house and hopes they can have lunch together tomorrow. Signing the note, 'Love, Johnny.'
Feeling good that the house is being taken care of, John drives back to the apartment, telling himself, 'Think of this as driving back to MY apartment. No, driving back to Gary and my apartment." He says it out loud but still doesn't feel it's his apartment.
He sees a bank branch where Sara McCarty had set up his checking and savings accounts. He parks and goes inside, securing a certified bank check for $2,000 made out to Andy Salsbury. That seems a fair amount for a couple of weeks of nursing.
Back in the apartment, John looks at the weights but can't make himself do more lifting; then he remembers Gary's exercise list. In the first week, twenty pushups and twenty-five sit-ups will be done. Second week, twenty-five and thirty-five, and third week, thirty and forty-five. The note says, 'That's your DAILY number of repetitions, seven days a week.'
He drops to the floor and starts doing push-ups the way Gary showed him. John wrote it down: 'Each push-up: hands wider than shoulders. Legs and back form a straight line. Lower until your elbows are bent at 90 degrees. Push back up until your arms are straight and your legs and back form a straight line. Repeat.'
He gets on the floor and does a push-up correctly, then says, "One," and does another. After grunting, "Eight," he collapses on the floor and lies there breathing deeply, then says, "Only twelve more to do." He does two groups of six repetitions, and by then, his arms are shaking, and he's too tired to even bitch about needing to do these fucking exercises.
He lies on the floor until his heartbeat has returned to normal, then he sits up and reads the directions for proper sit-up technique and says out loud, "How the hell does Gary know the proper technique and be as fat as he is and has probably never done a sit up in his life?"
No answer occurs to him, and with a deep breath, he does a proper sit-up. He is sitting on the floor, his feet flat, under the sofa, so he can't lift them. Crossing his hands over his chest, he lowers his torso until his back is almost on the floor, then curls his torso upward to a sitting position while exhaling and keeping his chin tucked. The instructions... Do this smoothly without jerking.
He does it perfectly and says, "One," and keeps doing it until he grunts, "Five," and stops; his stomach muscles are sore. He mutters, "What the fuck? Twenty more of these ball busters?" It takes him fifteen minutes, but he completes twenty-five, done perfectly, except only three or four at a time. He is supposed to do the required number in a row. John figures that's not happening any time soon.
He's wrong about that, though. He surprises himself.
Sweating like mad, John lies fully spread out on the floor after completing the twenty-fifth sit-up. Turning his head, he does a double take, then realizes he's looking at the spot on the throw rug where his cum shot landed a few hours ago, and he eventually wipes it up with a wet paper towel. He now sees that he needs to use a cleaner on that spot. Balls!
After ten minutes resting on the floor, with a groan, he sits up, then stands and looks in all the kitchen cabinets for some cleaner. There's Windex, but he wants the Oxiclean Carpet Cleaner bottle. A spray of that and a wipe with a paper towel, and the cum stain disappears. Smiling at that, John puts the cleaner away.
In the bathroom, looking at the tub, he undresses and sits in the tub, peeing, trying to pee on more than just his legs. Disappointed that it wasn't very sexy doing it alone, he washes off, dries, and runs water in the just recently peed-in super-clean bathtub. He plans on taking a bath, soaking his sore muscles from lifting weights, and doing the exercises.
After looking everywhere in the bathroom, John admitted there was no bubble bath. Too bad! He gets into a steaming hot tub, sitting down slowly until he's finally fully sitting in the bathtub, his dick floating in the too-hot water, sweat beading on his forehead. He says out loud, just to hear a voice, "I'm almost twenty-two, and even after an accident, coma, and amnesia, I can take care of myself! I'm not afraid of being in this apartment alone, even though there are enemies in the building. The pale-complected kid and the tall, slim woman whom I lied to to avoid her daughter."
Grinning, he said all that out loud again, this time in his lisp, which sounded exactly like Nurse Andy. The tub was full to almost overflowing, but it wasn't big enough for John to stretch out. Still, only his knees and head were out of the water. Water splashed over the edge of the tub when John moved too abruptly.
He slides forward, and more of his legs come out of the water as his head submerges. When his head came out of the water again, his body made a wave, and a big wave went over the side and onto the bathroom floor. 'Fuck!" he mutters and tries being still in the tub, wondering what the chances are that an apartment under Gary's will soon be seeing wet spots on the ceiling of whatever room is below this bathroom. That happened in his parents' house when John was nine years old and playing in an overflowing bathtub of water.
He starts crying silently, remembering how nice his mother was about that fuck up, only one of many he made in his life. Yeah, but then she could be cold, too, by not caring that John had no friends in this neighborhood. He had to go to Dickie's neighborhood to play with friends, and his mother frequently refused to drive him there. It was too far for a bike ride. Then, when he was finally old enough, he got a driver's license, but he was often forbidden to use his mother's car. What a bitch!
"I'm going to get drunk tonight," he said out loud, then muttered, "How could I forget to bring a radio in here?" Then, "I am so horny it's getting scary. Let's face it, Darling, Gary is not taking care of your sexual needs. And I mean even when he was here. Obviously, he's not taking care of my dire sexual needs now, and why didn't I bring my cell phone in here with me? I didn't bring anything in here, and I'm left with nothing to do except talk out loud to myself."
Getting up and splashing more water onto the floor, he grabs a bottle of Gary's shampoo off a corner shelf. It's a generic supermarket brand. Squeezing some on his head, he shampoos his hair, thinking about Gary's haircut, which will also be his haircut in three weeks. "What do I really think about that now that I know Andy and Dickie aren't doing it? I thought it'd be like an exclusive Wyoming Cowboy Flattop club. I'd belong to something, and why am I saying everything out loud instead of simply thinking these idiotic thoughts?"
He shampoos and slowly washes his body without saying another word out loud and without thinking about anything except washing. He pulls the plug in the bathtub and turns on the shower to rinse off, then gets out, dries himself, and then settles down on the toilet lid for a long slow jerk off, picturing Gary fucking him as if he can see it happening back there. With mirrors or something... somehow.
It'd be quite a sexy thing to watch yourself being fucked up the ass with Gary's very fat penis doing the fucking. Then, "Ooh, oooh, ummm!" he shoots off, sensations soaring with the unique kind of pleasure you get from a sexual climax, the stream of cum only going about two feet before dropping to the floor, but it felt really good just the same.
Jerking off feels pretty good, but can't compare with being fucked. He's lazily pulling on his quickly softening penis, getting cum on his fingers, thinking about fucking Gary sometimes, but he can't make that picture work. Hell, he doesn't want it to work!
He tries picturing Andy fucking him as he did many times, but that doesn't get him hot. Now it's all about Gary! Andy fucking him has lost its glitter, although he has love in his heart for Andy as a friend. Same for Dickie, although it was cool being fucked by Dickie that one time, except Dickie told Andy to finish the fuck. Yeah, well, Dickie and John just don't match sexually somehow.
John's horny as hell, though, so he knows he would be grateful for a fuck from either Andy and/or Dickie, although his first desire by far would be to fly to Montana and get fucked by Gary. Nodding his head, John says, "How about that! My deep feelings for Gary, sexual and otherwise, are real, and yet I'm still not sure why I'm so deeply attracted to him." It's their ongoing mystery.
He doesn't believe it's love, as he thought was the case with Andy. He understands now that it was a case of desperation about his frightening situation. Andy was trying to help him, so John clung to that, but he was never romantically in love with Andy. This situation with Gary Thomas is already more romantic than it was with Andy, although neither Gary nor John feels as if they're in love. They are simply boyfriends now, seeing how far that takes them.
Getting dressed, John drives to McDonald's for a 1560-calorie dinner; then, feeling a little sick to his stomach, he drives home and looks in the kitchen cabinets for stomach relief. Gary has a pink bottle of Pepto-Bismol that claims it is good for stomach relief from various maladies. John drinks from the bottle, swallowing and making a face at the chalky, minty, medicinal taste of it. He mutters, "Jesus!" and screws the lid back on.
After watching TV, he goes to bed thinking about jerking off again but falls asleep before he works up the energy to do that. He wakes up at five-thirty, every muscle aching beyond belief. He wakes this early, probably because he's been napping during the day. Continuing his habit of talking out loud to himself, he says, "I'm so fucking sore I cannot fucking believe it!' Then, when he moves, "Ouch! And I'm not taking a nap today. I'll get on a regular schedule like a normal person."
Wearing only his girlie panties, he gropes his junk and, at five-forty in the morning, goes into the bathroom to do his bathroom routine, which includes a daily bowel movement. He shits every morning, regular as clockwork, not realizing this kind of daily regularity is nothing to take for granted, although he does.
Wiping his ass, he yelps, "Whaaaat?" seeing his shit is black as coal. "Omigod! What the fuck is wrong with me now?"
He goes right to his laptop, recently moved from his bedroom in Cheyenne to here, and Googles 'black shit.' He says, "Oh, it's the Pepto-Bismol that contains bismuth which, when coming in contact with sulfide in saliva, causes black poop. Closing his laptop, relieved but still a little shaken up, he says, "I should not be left unsupervised!"
Back in the bathroom, wearing only his girlie panties, he finishes his routine. He gets excited about having lunch with Andy today. A long shower with extra hot water helps his sore muscles lighten up a little. After drying, he combs his hair, frowning at how long it's gotten in three weeks and how he'll really need a haircut when Gary returns and takes him for a haircut like his.
Then, thinking about Gary, John makes a face, then lubes his ass, and, very slowly, screws the dildo way up inside his rectum. Hitting the vibrating button, he gasps and strokes a hard boner on his dick. Gently sitting on the closed toilet lid, the vibrating dildo making him scrunch his face, he does a slow jerk off, his eyes closed, seeing fat Gary holding his four-inch fatter than fat cock out to John and him taking it in his wide open mouth, "Ah, ahh, ahhh!" he blows a nice load of cum straight up in the air that curves slightly before gravity drags it down to splat in front of John, cum spray splattering his legs and feet.
His head back, he groans, "Oooh, fuck, that felt good."
Taking another deep breath, he stands, enjoys the vibrating dildo for another two minutes, then unscrews the dildo wipes his legs and feet, then drops the towel on the floor, and moves it around with his foot cleaning up his cum splat. Kicking the towel into the corner where he threw his bath towel yesterday, John says, "I'll clean the bathroom again tomorrow."
After getting dressed, he laughs at himself, thinking back to his loud yelp seeing his black shit. Haha, "I learn something every day. Pepto-Bismol makes your doo-doo black." Saying all that out loud in the empty apartment makes it sort of echo in his ears creepy-like.
He drinks the other smoothie from the refrigerator, then watches a little bit of Good Morning America on TV, frowning at the inane conversation and forced laughter until he can't take anymore and turns off the TV. He says, "I don't know what to do now," then says it louder, "I don't know what to do now!" The echo ringing in his ears.
It's frustrating, and his eyes get wet because he wants someone to tell him what to do.
He texts Gary, 'Good morning! I wanted to call you, but you said not to, so I won't. I miss you more than I thought I would. That didn't come out right,' and his phone rings. Caller ID... GARY THOMAS.
John is very excited, "Hi, Gary, as I was saying..." Gary interrupts, "Hi, pretty boy. As it turns out, I'm missing you more than I expected, too. Other than that, how are things going for you?"
"There is no... other than that, Gary. Missing you is everything. I'm lost without you, Daddy. I'm lonely, so can't I please be with you? I won't get in the way. I'm screwing things up being on my own."
Gary, sounding sincere, says, "You're making me feel good and sad at the same time, Johnny. Feeling really good because my pretty boy misses me so much and feeling bad because you're so lost and unhappy. Still, it might be good to force yourself to be a little self-reliant. I'm very sorry, but it's not sensible for you to be here. I need to stick with that, although I'd love having you with me and seeing your beautiful face every day in person instead of on my phone. Johnny, I'm at the education facility from seven in the morning until eight or nine at night, and then there's studying I need to do."
Shrugging, although Gary can't see that, John says, "I understand. I wouldn't want to make it harder for you, Gary. I miss you, that's what I wanted to tell you. Can I call again tomorrow? I loved hearing your voice."
"Yeah, what the fuck. I liked hearing your voice, too. Do some lisping for me."
John grins and lisps, "You're my man, Gary Thomas, and when I see you, you better be ready to fuck me, Daddy."
He chuckles, "I'm ready to do that right now. Okay, I need to take a quick shower. Call this same time tomorrow, okay?"
"Yes, and thank you, Gary. Talking to you makes me feel good!"
"Okay, same for me. Be good..." and he clicks off.
Gary smiles broadly, "That was so cool!" he says out loud. Then, "Damn, Gary has a youthful-sounding voice! I never noticed that before. Oh, man, maybe Gary will do a Zoom call with me."
Rubbing his junk, he feels like jerking off again, but instead, while thinking about Gary, John does his exercises. It takes him the better part of an hour to complete what should take fifteen minutes, but he's still very sore, so he puts off the weightlifting until later.
After resting, he cleans up and drives to Burger King for a 1600-calorie second breakfast. He drives around the University of Wyoming campus, still with the half-baked idea of hooking up with a willing college student. John's seriously horny and wants to get fucked before having lunch with Andy so he doesn't end up begging Andy for sex and breaking his word to Dickie.
After forty-five minutes, John's crying again, saying to himself, "This is the stupidest idea you've ever had, you fucking loser! How are you supposed to know if some cute, innocent sophomore is gay? That's one thing, and another thing is you're not going to initiate anything, so the cute sophomore is going to need to proposition you, and you're almost a twenty-two-year-old MAN! Expecting that is fucking NUTS!"
Jesus, his head is pounding, and his face is red from screaming at himself in the pickup. Forcing himself to calm down, he tries remembering how to get to Denny Morning's and Clarence Smith's apartment. Now, of course, neither of them will be home because they both work, so he screams out loud, "So, why are you trying to remember how to get there? Huh? Why?"
He pulls over to the curb and takes some deep breaths, calming down. He mutters, "I'm so sore from doing the lifting and exercises. It's nuts," and then sees a man sitting on a bench at a bus stop looking directly at him. John squints because the man is handsome, but he looks to be about fifty. A fifty-year-old, rugged-looking, handsome man smiles at the staring young, cute, good-looking guy in the pickup.
Feeling hypnotized, John stares back, his mouth slightly opened. They stare at each other until the man gets up and walks toward the truck. John watches for three seconds, then goes, "What?" and drives away, his heart pounding in his chest, scared by that almost encounter with a strange older man.
Looking in the rearview mirror, he sees the man sitting on the bus stop's bench. John says, "An old man? Why not," but he doesn't have the balls to drive back. It's eleven o'clock, and Andy hasn't texted or called about lunch, so John drives to his house in Cheyenne. After parking in the driveway, John gets out, but he is not sure if he should ring the bell or unlock the door and go in. It is his house... hmm.
He rings the front doorbell and waits. The door opens, and there's Andy with a big smile, who looks very surprised but happy. He opens the door wide and says, "Oh, Johnny," and they hug, stumbling into the foyer, squeezing each other, the door slowing closing. Andy kisses John on the mouth, and they get into one of their hot make-outs, boners prominent in their pants.
Saliva spreading on their faces, John murmuring, "Fuck me, Andy,' and Andy pulls John's pants down, then bends him over, and says, "Stay like that!"
John pants with arousal as Andy unzips his fly, and then a scream from John, "AHH! OW, UM Mmm..." as Andy's precum-dripping boner head pushes its way into familiar territory and then up the full six inches, humping against John's buttock, then pulling his hard-as-wood boner back and shoving it up John's ass again. John groans, "Andy..." and another thrust is all it takes for John to climax with a dark red curtain swarming all over him, a curtain of intense pleasure that makes him tingle, gasping and squeezing out another little shot of cum, shaking and trembling with intense pleasure.
John's a limp ragdoll now, pleasure swarming around his groin as Andy thrusts three more times and then blows a lot of cum into John's bowels, but he keeps thrusting for another minute, John justling around limply but with a look of ultimate contentment on his face. Andy pulls out and goes, "Oooh, that was sweet. How are you, Johnny."
Grinning, both guys feel shy, as if they can't believe they just did that. John says, "I'm good. How about you?"
Watching John feel back at his wide-open anus, Andy nods, saying, "Yeah, I'm good too, Darling. What brings you here this morning?"
As cum drools out of his ass, John says, "Um, I was checking up that we still have a lunch date."
"Oh, um, Dickie changed his mind about letting me go to lunch with you. I'm sorry. I was working up the courage to text you that latest news. Ya know, Dickie's afraid I'll take pity on you and fuck you, but, um..."
Nodding, John says, "Oh, I see. Um, I really like your curls. That permanent you got at Beauty Polar turned out cool. You look kind of cute with curly blond hair, and your eyebrows are, ah, different, too."
"Yes, thanks, Johnny. Dickie went crazy when he saw me last night... in a wonderful way! Oh, God almighty, he fucked me in a frenzy. It was our best sex yet. I think I'm in love with him, Johnny.'
"You mean romantic love, huh?"
"Uh-huh, and, um, my eyebrows, yeah. They plucked my eyebrows and made up my face. As I said, Dickie went wild for how it turned out. I looked so good... haha. I shouldn't say that about myself, but I did look good. Hey, where are my manners? Come into the power room, and I'll wipe your ass and clean you up."
Holding his panties and jeans at thigh level, John follows Andy, "Oh, thanks, Andy. You still look good this morning. Your tattoo bracelet, um,
reminds me you were going to take me to get a tattoo, remember?
"Yeah, we never got around to that, but now it's Gary you need to take you and approve your choice of tattoo."
John goes, "Of course, ah, what kind of makeup did they put on you? That sounds cool, but I don't think Gary would like..."
John and Andy, after a satisfying fuck, are just a couple of submissive girlie/boys talking about ways to impress their guys...
To be continued... donnymumford@outlook.com
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