JOHN DARLING'S COMA
CHAPTER THIRTY
As he is finishing up in the bathroom Sunday morning, John hears his phone ringing in the bedroom and smiles, thinking, 'Finally, somebody thinks I'm worth a phone call.'
Walking quickly to the bedroom, he grabs his cell phone off the bureau and reads the caller ID, '888-453-7029, Delaware.' BALLS! A robot solicitation call! Why would anyone answer a call with that caller ID? Duh!
He thinks, 'Okay, so nobody thinks I'm worth a phone call. Hmm, I've done my weightlifting and the exercises Gary wants me to do, and I cleaned the apartment again, and I've just showered, so now I've got the rest of Sunday free to do whatever I want, which would be awesome except I don't know what I want to do.'
He checks the time, sees it is one o'clock, and says, "Oh, lunchtime! I need to force another high-calorie lunch down. Well, that's something to do, anyway."
For a change of pace, he skipped Burger King and McDonald's. He went to Wendy's, where he had the Italian Mozzarella cheeseburger for 1400 calories and a large Barq's root beer for 300 calories. Walking out, he thought, 'That was delicious, and I didn't need to force it down this time! Next time, I'll order the fries with it. Yum!'
He smoked a cigarette as he took his usual walk after eating to help the food digest. Even though the temperature was only forty-something degrees with a noticeable breeze, he was wearing Gary's too-big jacket, so he was comfortable. He liked wearing Gary's clothes, although he couldn't wear his jeans because the legs were two inches short and the waist six inches too large. He was finally used to wearing cowboy boots again, and his cowboy hat felt perfect on his head.
He hadn't worn boots in Boston and no cowboy hat either. After the accident, his coma and recovery time with amnesia went on for a few months, so it took him a few days to feel comfortable wearing these familiar Western items that he'd worn all the time while growing up in Cheyenne. The truth is, he felt cool wearing boots and a cowboy hat.
While walking, he sneaked a look at some college guys goofing with each other and again wondered, 'Where are all the cute guys? And some of the college students wearing Community College baseball caps or hoodies look like they could be in their late twenties or even thirties.'
John didn't catch any of the guys looking at him, so they must be straight. He walks past a dozen students, muttering to himself, "It ain't fair that almost ninety percent of the guys I randomly see are straight or pretending to be."
He glances around to see if anyone overheard him talking to himself. Grinning, he mutters, "I really need to stop talking to myself." He hears a ping from his phone, so he takes it from his pocket and sees a longish text from Andy.
'Johnny, I hope everything is going good for you, buddy. Dickie and I had the coolest time in Jackson Hole. We'll be heading back as soon as Dickie gets done in the bathroom. He's awesome, by the way, and I can see why you'd be best friends with him all those years. I just wanted to say hi and tell you that Dickie said, sure, I can have dinner with you tomorrow night... if you want to. He has to do something with his Mom and Dad. Love you, brother!'
Tears sting John's eyes as he mutters out loud to himself, "That's so sweet of him. Andy loves me as his closest friend, which is so special!" He sends a text, 'You know I want to, Andy. I can't wait to see you...' He stops typing because tears are blurring his vision.
A man dressed as a priest or minister stops to put his hand on John's shoulder, asking, "Are you alright, son? Can I be of help in some way?"
Wiping his eyes, shaking his head, and not looking up, John mutters, "Fucking allergies, um, my eyes are tearing, that's all."
The priest or minister nods, "Winter allergies, huh? Yeah, okay, if you say so, son," and he walks by. John looks up and sees the priest or minister lighting a small cigar with one of those torch cigar lighters... the flame is like a blowtorch. He continues his text, 'I just had a short crying jag because you're so nice it got me emotional, Andy. I can hardly wait to see you. Love, John.'
He didn't say more because he figured he'd get too maudlin. Andy texts right back, 'I can't wait to see you, too, but I need to tell you I promised Dickie we wouldn't have sex. It'll be hard doing without, but it'll get easier as time passes, Johnny. We're awesome friends, you and me. We had a wonderful run as sex buddies, but now I need to be faithful to my man. You understand, I know you understand. Love you!'
Blowing out his cheeks, John mutters, "Yeah, yeah, I know." Then he texts, 'I'm looking forward to having dinner with my super friend. Don't worry, I won't nag you for, you know... Love you too.'
He hits 'send' and rolls his eyes, mumbling, "Sure, sure, sure, I understand! Fuck, I understand that it's not fair that I need to transition to exclusivity with Gary in Montana. If he were here, it'd be ten times easier."
A scraggily-looking middle-aged woman with gray bangs across her forehead and long gray, smelly hair past her shoulders on both sides is pushing a grocery cart overflowing with all kinds of old junk stolen from wherever. She's wearing two winter coats and a dirty baseball cap as she bends over to pick up a cigarette butt. Lighting it, she sops next to John and, exhaling smoke, mutters, "You're too young and pretty to be senile, so stop talking to yourself. The next thing you'll be doing is drooling."
Frowning, John's eyes blinking, he looks her right in the eyes and says, "Wait a second!" He takes a fifty-dollar bill from his wallet, adding, "Here, get something to eat or drink... whatever you need."
Her eyes get big, "Seriously?" John nods, and when she moves her arms to take the money, a wave of BO hits him and makes him smile, thinking about Denny's and Clarence's BO.
She smiles back, showing no teeth on the bottom, saying, "God bless you," and hurries on her way, the grocery cart bumping over the curb. John cries a little, then takes a deep breath and says aloud, " I really need someone, mainly Gary, to tell me what to do next."
Walking back to where he parked his pickup truck, he thinks he sees Mac Jones, the boy from yesterday. Staring at the Mac Jones lookalike, he mumbles, "Nah, Mac has shorter hair and wears glasses." Continuing his walk, he adds, "And so what if it was him? I'm too big a pussy to instigate anything sexual, and anyway, I'm apparently being forced to be celibate until Gary's three weeks training program is over."
In the apartment, John watches TV for a while. Being from Wyoming, he's never rooted for one special NFL team, but he watches NFL football games on Sundays. The game he's watching this Sunday is the New York Jets playing The New England Patriots. After the accident, he was in Boston for those months and would have been living in a suburb of Boston if the accident hadn't happened, so he probably would have adopted the Patriots as his team.
He doesn't live in Boston, though, so dozes off on the sofa, missing the end of the game. Waking up later, he doesn't care he missed the end of the game, but he is pissed off that he doesn't know what to do next. Stomping around the apartment until he finally said, "Fuck it! I'm so horny I'm going to break my word to myself."
He promised himself he was done groveling for someone to fuck him, but he gives in and texts Clarence. 'Clarence, I'm still waiting and hoping you can spare an hour for me. Please! I think you're so hot!' He stares at his phone, seeing the text was received and his text from yesterday was read, but neither text motivates Clarence to text back
After a few minutes, he sits on the small sofa, muttering, "Motherfucker," and calls the telephone number for Mark-somebody that Andy gave him a couple of days ago. Mark or someone who answers Mark's phone says, "I don't recognize this ID, so I don't know why I'm answering this call. If you're selling something, I don't want it. If you're giving something away, give it to somebody else. If you're..."
John hits 'END' because Mark sounded too aggressive and, well, he sounded like an asshole. John didn't want to need to explain who he was and who gave him Mark's number. He couldn't make himself get into all that horseshit. Plus, Andy said Mark is thirty years old or older, and who knows what he looks like, so...
Pouting and feeling like an asshole himself, never mind the asshole Mark-somebody, John thought, 'I'll get drunk!' Then said, "No, don't be stupid."
He gets up, walks around the apartment feeling sorry for himself, and then frowns, looking at himself in the mirror over the small sofa. "Huh, my hair looks like shit. Andy tried but failed to fix it, but that kid, um, Mac Jones, who I thought I saw today, said he's a barber and he owes me a favor."
He calls Mac's number, and Mac answers after one ring, saying, "Ha! I told myself you'd never call."
"Really? Your offer to fix my hair is too good to pass up. How about this afternoon?"
Mac hesitates, then says, "This afternoon is over, never to return. It's six-ten."
John's gaining a touch of confidence because Mac seems nice, "No shit! I lost track of time. If you'll fix my hair, I'll buy you dinner afterward."
"Wow! Now, that's a deal I can't pass up. I'm on campus. If you drive to the..." and he gives John directions to his dorm, telling John he'll be sitting on the front stoop of his dormitory.
John washes up and tries fluffing his hair, but there's nothing he can do with it, and it occurs to him that there's nothing Mac can do with it, either. Well, except cut it shorter. Plus, Mac has yet to give any indication at all that this is about anything other than cutting John's hair.
Why does John hope there might be something sexual in the first place? Well, as he thought before, since when does a guy offer to cut a stranger's hair? Yeah, but there's only about a ten percent chance Mac's gay or will admit he is, so John will, hopefully, get his hair looking better for when Gary gets back.
In his pickup, John says to himself, "Well, the physical contact should be pleasant, if nothing else. And it might give me something different to think about as I jerk off. Mac is one of the rare, cute guys, so that's special, too.
He gets lost on campus and calls Mac, "Sorry, dude, but I'm lost." He describes where he's at, and Mac gives him simple directions for getting to the parking lot near his dorm. Mac will see John parking and wave him over, and that's exactly what happens.
John goes over to the stoop in front of a dormitory that looks like a bank, which it probably was at some distant time. Mac's smoking what, from the smell of it, is a joint. Another guy, who looks pretty young, is exhaling marijuana smoke, then with a silly grin, he mutters, "Hi, I'm George."
As Mac takes the joint, John smiles and bumps fists with George, saying, "John Darling," the kid says, "Yeah, Mac told me who you were... and, yeah, you're very nice-looking. Jesus, you're cuter than a basket of puppies."
John makes a face, then Mac holds out the joint, mumbling, "Yo, Darling, have a toke of this shitty weed."
When John takes the joint, Mac adjusts his eyeglasses, pointing his thumb at George, saying, "George is gay and wanted to meet you 'cause I told him about how good-looking you were and that you were probably gay, too."
John frowns, "Whaaat? How did you figure that out?" Then inhales some marijuana smoke and passes the joint to George.
Mac smiles a really cute smile, mumbling, "I don't know. Something in the way you looked at me made me think... hey, this good-looking motherfucker is probably gay. I didn't and don't care one way or the other."
John mutters, "Oh," then shudders because Mac has the mystery magical something that Gary has. The something that gets John's dick tingling, and he doesn't know why. Mac has short, light brown hair and a cute, youthful-looking face. He's slim, about two inches shorter than John, and wears glasses. He's also one of those people with the peaches and cream complexion that always looks super clean. Mac looks clean enough that you could eat off his body or lick it from his toes to the hair on top of his head.
On the other hand, George is not cute at all, although he is youthful-looking. He has long, unruly, dark brown hair that looks like it needs a good washing, and he's about an inch shorter than Mac. His skin tone is between beige and brown, and John couldn't guess his ethnicity. He has no accent at all. The major problem with George, though, is his nostrils.
George says, "I see why you want my roommate to do something with your hair. Who fucked it up?"
John takes the joint from Mac, takes a drag, holds the smoke in his lungs, exhales, and says in that funny-sounding voice you have when you've just exhaled pot smoke. "A friend who wanted to help but couldn't. How come Mac hasn't given you a haircut?"
George inhales, then steps on the roach as Mac says, "I told him I wouldn't touch his dirty hair, that's why." Georges exhales, nodding, mumbling, "Yeah, what Jones just said."
"I guess it's a stupid question, but why don't you wash your hair?"
George says, "Yeah, it was a stupid question."
Mac stands, "Let's go, Johnny; my dorm room is right inside the front door." George stays seated, mumbling, "Have fun, boys," and to Mac, "You'll hook me up, right?"
Mac says, "You tell him," and George stands, asking John, "Would you like me to fuck you after your haircut? I can do you up really good."
John says, "Yeah, that sounds great, George." George sits down, saying, "You da man, Johnny."
Inside, John says to Mac, "He was kidding around, right?"
Mac nods to the first door on the left, "This is George's and my room right there," John follows him inside as Mac says, "No, I think George was quite serious. He's always complaining he's horny and nagging me to let him blow me. I won't because then he'll be nagging me to let him fuck me, and I can't, in my wildest dreams or nightmares, imagine letting him do that." He points at a desk chair, "Sit there."
What a coincidence that John's roommate did the same nagging, and one thing led to another because John did give in. John doesn't tell Mac that, though, because all he's concentrating on is the way Mac said, "Sit there!" That mysterious something was in the way it sounded when Mac said it. John can't describe it, but Mac has whatever it is that Gary has, plus Mac is sort of cute and, as he thought earlier, clean enough to eat. A shiver runs through John as he mutters, "Um, what, ah... what's your plan for my hair?"
Mac, taking barber scissors and a comb off one of the two desks, says, "I don't have a barber cap, so take your shirt off."
Nodding, John feels his dick getting hard at how bossy Mac is. Mac tells him, "I had a barber's cape, but Chuck Parker threw up on it a week ago when we were playing a beer-drinking game. The cape was in the wrong place at the wrong time."
John mutters, "That's okay," and unbuttons, then takes off his shirt. Mac casually runs a comb through John's hair, "Um, because of the stupidly short bangs you've got, there aren't many choices on how I can cut your hair. How did your bangs get cut this short, anyway? Ha-ha, was booze involved?"
John avoided telling sexually-straight-Mac about wearing girl's makeup and how he thought a sort of girl's hairdo would go with the makeup, which was why Andy tried cutting bangs like some Dutch girl with pigtails, minus the pigtails. Instead, John muttered, "Accidentally caught my hair on fire while lighting a cigarette with a cigar torch lighter I borrowed. Then a friend tried to even out my burned bangs, and, um, I don't want to talk about it anymore, okay?"
Mac mutters, "Yeh, sure. Sounds like a bullshit story anyway," and "Scrunch, scrunch, scrunch," he cuts hair going up the back of John's head. John moves his head, saying, "Hey! How about discussing what you plan on doing."
"Just sit there, alright? Christ, there is no miracle fix. The only thing you can do with one-inch bangs, assuming you do not want to look like a geek leaving them as they presently are, is comb them up in front. I'm cutting the rest of the hair on your head to go with that." Pointing at his head, Mac adds, "Like my hair."
John has a hard boner in his pants, thinking, 'How is it possible for some guys, like this guy, to be so confident, so unconcerned, that they can cut a stranger's hair the way they decide it should be? What in their upbringing or their genes makes this possible?'
And he thinks, 'And why do gay guys like me think this trait is incredibly sexy?'
Good point as most straight guys would take serious offense at Mac's overconfident attitude. Mac pointed at his hair, which was shortish but not that short, and was kind of arrogant. John was not paying attention to that, though, because he was feeling a sizzling vibration in his groin, mumbling, "Oh, yeah, I see, uh-huh."
He didn't need to give Mac the okay to go ahead because Mac never stopped cutting John's hair as he said what he said while continuing to cut John's hair, 'Scrunch, scrunch, scrunch." Mac never used clippers, so when, in five minutes, he was rubbing hair gel in John's hair, he said, "I'm combing the hair on top forward, and the one-inch bangs will be combed up. You are going to still look as if you need a haircut, but it's all even at least."
Done, he said, "Here, take a look," and handed John a mirror. The haircut looked like a version of Mac's shortish haircut that looked like a month-old haircut in need of a haircut. Yeah, Mac needs a haircut, and that's pretty much how he cut John's hair. The bangs were still an inch but combed up in front, and the rest of the hair on the top of his head was closer to two inches combed forward. John's hair on the sides was evened out but still needed cutting as it touched his ears. So, yeah, he needs a haircut for this hairstyle. He needed a haircut for his different, longer hairstyle, too.
John's happy with his hair! "Wow, this is cool, except I look awfully young."
"You looked awfully young before I touched your hair."
Mac's hands brushed cut hairs off John's bare shoulders, which felt sexy to John, who has had an iron-hard boner, which is why he hesitates to stand. Then, he shocked himself for having the balls to say, "Ah, Mac, ah, you said you'd never let George do anything sexual with you, but would you ever consider, um, you know, doing something with me?"
Behind John, Mac rested a hand on each of John's shoulders, saying, "It's so weird that you'd ask, John. Ah, I've had a girlfriend since I was fourteen. Not the same one, though, haha! Anyway, I haven't been a virgin since I was sixteen, and I do love fucking, but, ah... heh-heh, I've always been curious what it might feel like fucking a guy, so, yeah, I'll fuck you if you want. First, you'd need to convince me you'd never tell a soul, though, and I don't know how you'd do that."
John can't believe this. "Ah, I don't know either, but I swear I'd never tell anyone, and anyway, who do I know that you know? Other than George. Plus, my boyfriend is away studying new car computers, something or other, and I miss our intimacy more than I can say, so I'd love to have you fuck me. Can you do it here?"
"Hell, no! Um, do you live alone?"
Then, before John can answer, Mac squeezes John's shoulders and says, "Put your shirt on, and you can tell George the sad news that we're going to dinner and, oh, by the way...he can't fuck you. Obviously, do not tell him that I'm going to do that."
Nodding, still sitting on the desk chair feeling gooey from the authoritative way Mac said all that, John buttons up his western shirt, then casually pushes his boner to the side, asking, "Won't George want to come to dinner with us?"
Now that the hair gel has dried, Mac says, "Don't move," and again combs the hair on John's head forward and the bangs up as he mutters, "George ate on campus." Then, combing up the bangs, Mac says, "Okay, Johnny, it looks even better with your hair dry."
They walk outside, where George is talking to a guy who appears to be in his early twenties, looking like Joe-everybody. An average-looking guy with a big head of hair. Mac mumbles, "Mickey, wassup?"
Mickey shrugs, "Goddamn, when I finished my five miles jog, I was sweating like a whore in church. But, don't fear, I showered to have nice clean hair hoping to get you to give me a haircut, Jones, but I see you're busy with your male model there."
"Yeah, I am busy, but come around tomorrow morning before ten o'clock, and I'll set you up. This male model, by the way," nodding at John, "Is buying me dinner, which is what all you cheap bastards should do for the awesome haircuts I give you."
George says, "Hey, Mickey, I'll give you a haircut."
As John and Mac cross the street to the parking lot, Mickey mutters, "Ah, no thanks, George. Maybe when hell freezes over..."
Getting in his pickup, John asks, "What's a good restaurant around here?"
"That depends on what you mean by a good restaurant. You want a cocktail, right?" Without getting a response from John, Mac goes on, "So we want to hit up Paddy's Irish Pub on Ashley Street. Take a right out of this parking lot."
It's a five-minute drive to Paddy's, and at seven-fifteen, the restaurant is hopping, but they have no problem getting seated. Their waiter is a young, average-looking fellow with red hair, green eyes, and pale skin. He has an angular-shaped face, and looks serious as he puts menus on the table and, with a distinct Irish accent, says, "ello, I'm Liam, and I'll be yooehr waiter tonight. Is dis yooehr first time at Paddy's?"
John mumbles, "Whaat?" and Mac mutters, "No, not really," and the waiter asks, "Can I get you bahs something to drenk?" Mac says, "I'll have the twenty-ounce Guinness stout," and John mutters, "Make that two. I've never tried a Guinness."
The redhead smiles brightly, "Two Guinness combing right ohp," and off he goes.
As Mac looks at the menu, John says, "Our waiter is speaking English, right?"
"Yeah, he's either straight from County Cort, or maybe he's from Mississippi and practiced the hell out of speaking with an Irish accent. I've eaten here a half dozen times, so I know that Liam is new."
Liam drops off two dark drinks and mutters, "Enjay," and he hurries off.
As they drink, John gagging down the thickish brew, he and Mac exchange details of their lives, some of which are actually true. John gives an abbreviated version of the accident in Boston, omitting that his parents were killed because he didn't want pity. Then, when Liam is back taking their dinner orders, Mac isn't shy about ordering fried pickles for an appetizer at $8.99, then the 16 oz Ribeye steak at $36.99 with hand-cut fries at $4.99 and coleslaw, also $4.99.
John had forgotten how inexpensive everything is compared to Boston restaurant's prices. He ordered fried hot wings for his appetizer at $8.99, then jumbo shrimp stuffed with crab meat at $30.99, and the same fries and coleslaw as Mac ordered. For dessert, they both had New York-style cheesecake. John used his phone's adding machine feature to tally up the calories: 1870 calories, which is low considering all the food he consumed. He noticed again that large meals are becoming easier and easier to finish as his body adjusts to the large volume and calorie intake day after day.
Mac was curious about John's interest in calories, and John told him the truth... "I'm doing exercises and weightlifting while piling on the calories, hoping to put on a few pounds of muscle to impress my boyfriend."
After John pays, leaving Liam a good tip, the guys walk out of Paddy's with Mac saying, "Goddamn, that was mighty generous of you, John! It's turned out to be a ballbuster of an expensive five-minute haircut for you. Thanks, man! I'll do your haircuts anytime..."
John explained about Randy's Wyoming Cowboys' nineteen-fifties flattop haircuts that he and Gary are getting as soon as Gary gets back from Montanna."
Mac mumbles, "That is fucked up beyond comprehension. You need to tell this boyfriend of yours to go fuck himself with that flattop haircut nonsense."
Not wanting Mac to think he's a pussy, John mutters, "Yeah, well, that's more or less what I intend to tell him. Maybe I'll bring Gary to your dorm, and we'll both get our next haircuts from you."
"That sounds like another one of your bullshit lies, but that's okay. You can lie all you want after buying a poor college student like me that excellent dinner. Um, are we going to your place now?"
As they get in the pickup, John says, "That's my plan unless you've changed your mind," and he starts the engine.
Mac has his wallet out, mumbling, "I'm checking... um, yeah, I've got a condom. Let's go to your place. This is exciting for me because I've wondered what it feels like fucking a guy up the ass but never ran into the right guy under the right circumstances to check it out."
John pulls out into traffic, asking, "How come you never tried it with one of the girls you were fucking, and why am I the right guy under the right circumstances?"
Putting his wallet away, Mac shrugs, "I don't know. Doing a girl up the ass doesn't seem right to me, and you're the right guy because you're prettier than any of the girlfriends I've had. Hahaha, no, it's true. The right circumstances are you're horny and eager, and I couldn't help noticing that you do what you're told. I like that in my girls and now you, my boy."
Glancing at Mac, that back on the road, John says, "I'm flattered. You do realize, though, that you're pretty attractive yourself, right? I mean, from my perspective... you're a cute guy." It's odd because John didn't think he was cute the first time he met him. Whatever...
Mac mutters, "No shit. Of course, I know that. Girls constantly are telling me how cute I am. That's cool, but it feels weirdly wrong to me referencing another dude's cuteness."
"Well, we won't do that then, and you know what? I'm not feeling it now, Mac. We can stop at a bar if you want to talk more about it, although I'm pretty sure I'm not going to change my mind."
Mac goes, "My big mouth turned you off, huh? I know I can be obnoxious, and I'm sorry about that, but now that you've said that, the circumstances aren't right now for me, either. Would you drop me off at my dorm?"
"Sure, and we've got each other's phone numbers in case the right circumstances align some other time."
Mac says, "Or you could call simply for a haircut. You won't even need to buy me dinner next time."
It's three minutes to the dorm and, getting out, Mac says, "Thanks again for the dinner, dude, and I'll keep wondering if I'm missing something or if the female clitoris is a far superior sexual experience than anal intercourse in which case, I'm not missing anything."
"Um, yeah, whatever you just said. See ya, Mac."
Driving away, John says out loud, "Why did I do that?"
He doesn't spend any time trying to answer that question because he feels curiously good for being the one who turned down the opportunity for sex with a stranger. In a way, he did that with Mark 'somebody' earlier by hanging up on him. Of course, if John hadn't hung up, maybe Mark would have hung up the way Clarence effectively has hung up on John.
At the apartment, John showers and is in bed by nine-fifteen. Monday morning, his alarm gets him up at five, and, sitting up in bed, he calls Gary. He feels good because he has a clear conscience. Gary answers, "Johnny Darling, good morning to you! I'm glad you called. I've never had a boyfriend who can make me feel special the way you can. Damn, I really miss you."
"I miss you too, Gary. It helps that I'm wearing your coats and hoodies, though. Um, how do you handle not having, ah, the two of us not having sex? I really, really miss that, don't you?"
Gary chuckles, "Well, ha, I don't know what to say right off the top of my head. Um, I try not to think about it, but obviously, I miss having sex with you. I assume you know, um, that, other than having sex with themselves, there aren't too many people having sex every day with someone. After the honeymoon, most married people aren't fucking every day, and certainly not two or three times a day. Some might, but the vast majority don't."
"I never thought about what other people do, but you and I can be the exception to what most people do or don't do, right?"
Laughing, then, "Yeah, sure, haha, why not? Do you see what I mean about you making me feel special? Hey, you're being, um, a good boyfriend, right?"
John's honest, "Not perfect, but pretty good, yep. Andy and I did it for old-time sake, but that's all. We're having dinner together tonight, but no intimate behavior. How about you?"
He's taking credit by not explaining why they're not having sex, which is because Andy wants to be loyal to Dickie.
Gary exclaims, "Oh, Christ! It's not as if people are badgering me to fuck them. I'm not beautiful like you, Darling, so no one is offering sex to me. I pleasure myself thinking about you. Hey, and I appreciate your honesty, but I've got to get dressed now; call me tomorrow. I love hearing your voice."
"Okay, I will. Um, can I come out there, Gary? I promise not to bother you, Daddy... please. Just for a night or two."
Gary sighs, "I'm weakening, Darling. Your nagging is weakening me. Plus, I didn't realize how much you've come to mean to me. I didn't know I was going to miss you this much. I mean, we haven't been together very long, but... Oh, fuck, let's talk about it tomorrow. I gotta go. Bye, pretty boy."
Taking a deep breath, John hits 'end' and smiles, "Oh, man, he misses me! Jeez..." He reaches under the covers and begins a slow jerk-off, but stops. Going into the bathroom, he lubes up his anus, then twists in the dildo until it's opened him up as much as Gary's boner. It hurts a little, but that's why John needs to keep doing this. His anus needs to be used to take John's boyfriend's wide boner up inside him.
He pushes the vibrating button and stands still as his cock bones up hard as granite, then takes a few tentative steps, which go alright, so he walks back to the bedroom and gets in bed. Stroking his boner slowly for only fifteen seconds before he strokes faster and faster until, "Aaaah! Ooh, fuck... yeaaah..." cum shot out, making a "Ploff" sound hitting against the sheet. His eyes close as his head lulls back on the pillow with a warm pleasure soaring over his body... so nice!
The vibrating dildo feels good too, so he starts stroking again, a picture of Gary's throbbing four-inch boner in his brain. It goes on until he's making whining sounds, then a squeal as a small plop of substance files from the piss slip of his hard cock. "Oooh, aah, Christ..."
When his breathing is normal again, he gets out of bed, grinning as he turns off the vibrator and starts untwisting the dildo, saying out loud, "That was pretty good. The dildo reminds me so much of Gary. I'm going to use the cock ring too. How'd I forget that?"
He shivers, then says, "And as stupid as it is for someone with three million dollars in the bank to work for minimum wage at a menial job, I'm going to do it anyway to please Gary. Well, yeah, of course, he doesn't know I've got three million dollars, and I want to keep it like that for a while longer."
He showered last night so he could take his time getting ready for work. For work, he wears sneakers and a Duke baseball cap. After stopping at Dunkin' for two medium coffees, John arrives at ten minutes to seven, going directly to the office to punch in. After that, he reports to Dickie, gives him one of the coffees, and they do a guy's hug, as Dickie says, "Thanks for the coffee, buddy." Taking the lid off the cup, Dickie mumbles, "I think Andy wants to have dinner with you tonight."
"Yes, I know. He texted me. How was Jackson Hole?"
"It was fun. Haha., dude, I've got to thank you for bringing my boyfriend with you all the way from Boston."
It's been a few weeks now since John returned from the dead, and he and Dickie are getting back to the effortless familiarity lifetime friends experience. Without ever officially commenting about it, they both recognize that from early childhood Dickie's been their leader. They did everything together until graduating high school when John went to college, and Dickie went to work for Marshall Auto Repairs, which his father owns.
After drinking their coffees, again talking about how weird it was that they both ended up gay, but never for each other. John said, "It's because the best friendship is worth more than a sex buddy."
Dickie mumbles, "Yeah, I guess. Um, you better report to Walt. He's got you assigned to detailing duties. I'll see you at lunch."
Walking outside to the small garage office, John tries figuring out what 'detailing' is. Walter sees him coming and waves his arm that John should hurry up, so John jogs over and comes inside, saying, "Good morning, Walter."
"You're two minutes late again. If that happens again, three strikes, and you're out."
John says, "Sorry," but he knows he's not going to be 'out' even if Walter doesn't know that. Walter's friendship with Dickie's father is the only reason Walter is put up with, and he's more likely to be 'out' than John.
"What's detailing, Walter? Dickie said you wanted me detailing something..."
Walter stares at John, mumbles something about nepotism, and says, "Basically, interior detailing..."
"Whaaat?"
To be continued... donnymumford@outlook.com
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