JOHN DARLING'S COMA
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Wearing Andy's baseball cap backward, John is sitting on the top porch step of his parent's house, smoking a cigarette, waiting for Andy to finish putting his makeup on. Well, yeah, wearing makeup is silly, but John is still thinking of the house as his parents' house. He still has his weepy moments thinking about his parents' passing, but it's more about his guilt for not feeling worse than about the actual passing. They were not a close-knit, loving family.
Hell, at times, John didn't think his parents even liked one another, never mind liked him. It was a weird situation that hadn't done John any favors; he was a bit physiologically confused.
Other than that, John's feeling pretty good about things in general. That's like the old joke: 'Other than that, Mrs. Lincoln, how did you like the performance?'
Exhaling smoke and chuckling out loud, John thinks about how Andy went through the trouble of shampooing his hair so that he could comb the uneven bangs down on his forehead. Andy claimed John's bangs looked girlie with the eye makeup and pale lipstick he made up John's face.
Abruptly, he stops chuckling and stands up to flip his cigarette butt into the driveway. Yeah, John likes Andy fussing with makeup on his face and all that, but he doesn't like wearing the makeup. To check it out a little closer, he looks at his reflection in the driver's side mirror on his pickup, squinting and muttering, "Fuck..." because he is NOT into eye makeup and lipstick at all. Stepping away from the pickup, rolling his eyes, he again mutters, "Fuck..."
Nah, he's not into wearing women's makeup at all, but he is a massive fan of their silk panties... haha. He snickers at that, then goes over to sit on the top porch step again, having decided that, although he doesn't like wearing make-up, he doesn't hate it enough to hurt Andy's feelings by wiping it off. "I'll grin and bear it," John mumbles out loud.
Andy comes out on the porch, asking, "How do I look, Darling?"
John does a double take, looking at Andy's overly made-up face. The makeup is so overdone it seems like a parody of a drag queen's makeup. John says, "Oh, Andy, ah... Jesus! No, you look beautiful, dude."
Doing a feminine head movement, Andy murmurs in a thick, juicy lisp, "You're too kind, Johnny. No way I could never be beautiful, but I love that you and Dickie have used that word, complimenting me for scratching the surface of beautiful with my expert use of makeup."
John rolls his eyes as Andy drops the feminine demeanor as if it's exhausting maintaining it, asking in a close-to-regular guy's voice, "Do you got a cigarette, Darling? And yeah, I know; I need to buy a pack of my own."
John smiles broadly, mumbling, "Of course, I have a cigarette for you." Holding out his box of Marlboro reds, John thinks Andy looks ridiculous, but he has deep feelings for him too and says seriously, meaning it sincerely, "I'm so glad, so lucky to know you, Andy," and they hug.
Andy murmurs, "Me too, bro!" as he takes a cigarette, and then John lights it with his Bic lighter. Inhaling some nicotine smoke, Andy absently mutters, "I think I overdid the makeup this time."
John grins, "Whaaat? Overdid it? Well, maybe a tiny bit," and they both laugh; then John says, "We both look amazing. So, are we going to Fort Collins for lunch, or what?"
Andy asks, "Does a Pope shit in the woods? Is a bear Catholic?" As they walk to the pickup, snickering, John goes, "Hey, do you know a restaurant with music? I'd love to dance with you, Andy."
"Well, I know a place, and I suppose I'll need to lead! Dickie and I were at a joint with music, dancing a couple of nights ago with my man leading, so..."
The city of Cheyenne is almost on the border of Colorado, so with Andy driving John's pickup, getting there was only a half-hour drive at eighty-five miles an hour. During what for most people would be a hair-raising ride, both guys talk about their favorite subject... their boyfriends. John says, "Before my coma, I had only one sort of boyfriend, my roommate, Brian O'Neal. Since then, I've been your boyfriend; now I'm Gary's. So, yeah, much more fun after my coma, thanks to you, Andy."
"Well, hell, you were my first boyfriend, too, Johnny. Um, why did you say 'sort of a boyfriend' when referring to your roommate?"
"I said because we never gave being boyfriends a thought back then. That would make us queer. We always referred to ourselves as roommates, haha! Well, we were roommates, but we were something more than that, too. Maybe we felt we qualified as roommate-fuck-buddies, but not as boyfriends because, you know, we never went on a date, and boyfriends have date nights, right? We went to lots of places together but as roommates, not boyfriends. Or, oh, hell, I don't know..."
Andy nods, "Well, I find that interesting because I never had a roommate or, as I said, a boyfriend until I met you. I went to nurse assistant classes for a month, commuting from home, so I never had a dormitory/roommate experience. Having one sounds like it would be oh-so-fabulous."
"Yeah, it was pretty good. I mean, when Brian got me broken in as his submissive bottom. I was very pleased to be that, too. Here's what I'm confused about, though. It's that I'm not chomping at the bit, so to speak, to reunite with Brian, who I've given a lot of thought to, and I think the reason for that is you, Andy.
Andy's like, "Me?"
"Yes, since coming out of my coma, you've been so important in my life, so perfect for me. You quickly gained my trust, and after our fling, you prepared me for what comes next, meaning Gary. I'm still fucked-up emotionally at times, but you've done the best you could with that. The rest I need to do myself by getting hooked up with a therapist."
Andy shrugged, "You did most of it yourself. Dickie came on so strong that the first time meeting him, I was swooning over him, and yet you and I were able to still love one another as friends after we broke up and moved on to new romances."
"How Gary transitioned as my next boyfriend has been nothing less than perfection. And, how great is it that you and Dickie make a perfect couple? I couldn't be more excited and thrilled at how things have turned out, and, in my case, it's because of you and Gary. He makes me feel dreamy and creamy. He's totally macho but so nice at the same time. Plus, he has that mysterious thing that I'm enthralled with. It sounds terrible of me to say, but I don't need Brian anymore. He's done a lot for me, as have you, but all I can think about now is Gary Thomas. I really like that name, too."
Andy smiles and says, "Cutting Brian out of your mind so easily sounds a little bit terrible to you, Johnny, except you've told me how he sometimes negatively treated you. Considering that, it's understandable why you'd prefer me taking care of you and looking out for you, and now you've taken to Gary like a duck to water. It's been me, and now Gary is doing what's best for John Darling Junior instead of how your roommate, Brian, seemed to be all about what's best for himself."
"What? No, it's more the fact that with Brian, I was a must guy, while with you, I'm a guy who lost his parents, was in a coma, and then had amnesia, and so forth. Don't you agree?"
"Yeah, I see your point, but Brian did mistreat you at times, too."
Shrugging, John mutters, "Yeah, but I think I've misrepresented Brian."
Andy waves his hands, muttering, "Okay, but you're the one who said you have almost no interest in hooking up with him. Um, no offense, but I don't need to hear more about your ex-roommate."
Grinning, John mumbles, "Did you see that cute guy driving the Mustang, Andy?"
"No, but you must keep your eyes on the highway!"
"Uh-huh, no shit, no offense intended problem. I have nothing more to say about Brian; I'd much rather talk about Gary, anyway. Ya know, between you and me, Andy, I can see myself falling in love with Gary, and I swear to God he doesn't need to lose weight as far as I'm concerned. I was immediately infatuated with his fat self. Haha! It's crazy, I know, but I sincerely think his fat body is sexy. Oh fuck, I don't know exactly, but I'll do anything to please my Gary. As you said, Gary and I fit together fabulously.
Andy goes, "You two hit it off, but I didn't realize you'd fallen head over heels for Gary to this extent. Christ, I don't know what to say. I think I might be jealous, but, um... you actually like Gary's fat body? Seriously?"
"Yes, I seriously liked the feel of his fat body right from the beginning. Your body is more attractive, obviously, and Dickie's body is hotter than hell. Still, fat Gary makes me weak in the knees when, um, his fat squishes against my skinny body... oh man! And, speaking of my skinny body, I'm not so skinny anymore. I've gained five or six pounds over the past ten days and been exercising and weightlifting. I'm an animal! Haha."
Andy grins, "Jesus, all Gary had to do was tell you to bulk up, and you go nuts with it."
"Well, yeah, I have gone a little nuts with it, I guess, but once I get in a program, I'm all in! It's like studying for an exam; I'm an animal with that. Hee-hee. Seriously, though, it's not all that unusual that I'd like Gary's fat body. Haven't you noticed how many people walking around are fat, even obese? They all find loving partners and have a family together. You and your boyfriend are a lucky, rare, slim couple. Dickie's a dream lover come true for you, body-wise."
Andy nods as John passes some asshole traveling only seventy miles an hour, then says, "Dickie does have an extremely hot and sexy body. You're right about that, my friend!"
John, his eyes straight forward, mutters, "Uh-huh, for someone superficial, mainly caring about surface appearances, interested only in the hottest-looking guy or girl, Dickie is perfect for that person. Vanity doesn't interest me, though."
Andy makes a face, glances at John, and says, "You realize you're talking passive/aggressive, dumping on me because fat people turn me off."
Pulling out to pass a tractor-trailer, John goes, "What? Passive/aggressive? Do you mean I masked amiability to conceal raw antagonistic feelings about your comments regarding my boyfriend's weight? Um, why do you hate fat people?"
Andy says, "I don't hate anybody. How fond are you of the heaviest man in America, Jon Brower Minnock, at 1,430 pounds, and the heaviest woman, who, as everyone knows, was Carol Yager, who topped the scale at 1,130 pounds? I admit I'm not a fan of humongous, overweight people."
Approaching Fort Collins now, John keeps his eyes on the road, asking, "And how about Kathy Bates, that fat actress in the old Stephen King movie Misery? It was on HBO last week. Do you like her, or Charles Barkley, the fat basketball commentator on TNT, who was an NBA player forty or fifty years ago? Do you like him?"
Andy says, "Slow down, Johnny; our turn is coming up. The restaurant is a few blocks up Colorado Street, and I don't watch NBA basketball or any other kind of basketball so that I couldn't comment on Charles Whatshisname, but Kathy Bates in that movie from the 90s was okay. Um, I didn't like the actor playing the author who was in the accident. So, while I liked her in the movie, okay, I don't like her when thinking of her as a fat-ass everyday woman."
John puts his turn signal on, muttering, "Huh?" Then, "That's the restaurant at the traffic light, right?"
"Yep. Let's not speak about fat people anymore, okay?"
John drives onto the parking lot for the 'Don't Ask/Don't Tell Restaurant and Cocktail Lounge' and parks near the back, saying, "Whoa, this place is crowded."
Getting out of the pickup, John mumbles, "No more fat people conversation is fine by me, and anyway, I have nothing else to say about fat people. I admit, Dickie Marshall's non-fat body would be cool to sleep with naked. He and I have slept together in the same bed maybe twenty times but never naked and never since we reached our teen years."
Walking up to the restaurant, Andy mutters, "That's a shame, Johnny." Then, grabbing John's arm, "No, we can't go in that door. Dickie and I tried it, but we needed to go around to the front. That door leads to the restaurant's kitchen."
Walking next to Andy, John mutters, "For the record, you're the one who latched onto the fat person theme. You started that conversation, and I could have, but didn't, mention how redheaded guys with freckles are at a disadvantage, good looks-wise. A handsome redheaded guy with freckles is something you don't see often."
"Well, you better not be referring to my Huck Finn boyfriend! Anyway, cute redheads with freckles make me think of... well, have you ever watched that TV show from the fifties, 'The Andy Griffith Show' with Ron Howard? It's on YouTube and another channel, too."
"Whaat? Do you mean that old man, Ron Howard? He's bald as an eagle! He directed that awful movie, "Hillbilly Elegy."
They walk into the restaurant's front door; Andy shakes his head and mutters, "I didn't see that movie, but you're right; Ron Howard must be eighty years old by now. Let's not talk of redheaded people anymore."
They get seated right away, and, despite Andy's request, they continue their inane conversations about fat people and redheaded people, having a good time, realizing they're being absurd, but continue doing it with a straight face for shits and giggles. There's a DJ and some same-sex couples dancing, and John sees immediately that Andy's outlandish makeup fits right in with this crowd of aggressively gay men of various ages.
A very gay older waiter wearing as much makeup as Andy puts menus on the table, lisping almost unintelligible, "Welcome to Don't Ask/Don't Tell. I'm Alexander, and I'll be your server this afternoon. Can I start you off with a cocktail?"
John frowns, "Whaat?"
Andy orders a Blue Angels Kiss, and Alexander lisps, "Excellent choice," he looks at John, asking, "And for you, honey?"
"Oh, I'll have a Bud Light."
With a look of disapproval, Alexender scratches something on a tiny tablet he's holding, muttering, "And please forgive me, but I must ask for ID." Looking at Andy, the waiter winks and says, "You're fine, but your sweet boyfriend here looks about twelve. So cute, though..."
He looks at John's driver's license and mumbles, "Almost twenty-two, huh? I'm so sure, but okay, your drinks will be coming right out," and swishes off toward the bar.
John asks, "What's a Blue Angels Kiss?"
"It's a drink Dickie and I tried the other night. You know, to expand our drink options, and now it's our drink, Dickie's and mine. It's two ounces of vodka, one ounce of blue curacao, five ounces of grapefruit juice, and a squeeze of lemon."
Nodding, John mutters, "Oh," and they look at the menu. After careful consideration, both finally decide on cheeseburgers with fries--if Alexander ever shows up again.
Andy says, "Dickie and I had the cheeseburgers when we were here, and they came out room temperature, so I want to see if that happens again."
Ten minutes later, Alexander delivered their drinks and took their lunch orders. They talk about the two older men dancing together near them. Andy says, "I think the one with the white ponytail is trying to do that old dance from the sixties 'The Twist' while the other one, the old man with impossibly dark-red-died-hair, is trying to do what's commonly called electro dance or Tectonic and; obviously, they're both very drunk. Plus, this is a slow dance number the DJ is playing, so neither of them..."
They laugh their nuts off and then watch as two orders of cheeseburgers and fries sit on a shelf, ready to be served. Ten minutes later, the platters are still there as they watch Alexander grab-ass with another much younger waiter. The orders are backed up on the shelf, waiting for servers to serve them. Alexander finally gets around to serving the guys' lunches, asking, "Can I get you boys another cocktail?" They both order a second drink.
John bites into his cheeseburger, then swallows and mutters, "Room temperature," and Andy nods, "I can't wait to tell Dickie."
"Oh, so Dickie is okay with us having lunch together now?"
Andy chews on a cold French fry, muttering, "Cold," and then, "Yes, you and I can do lunch on Thursdays and Fridays if you want. He's now convinced we'll behave, um, sexually. And we will, right?"
"Yep, we're not sex maniacs. We're kissing best buds with an occasional friendly oral sex episode thrown in, but done in good taste, no pun intended."
Chuckling, Andy says, "You're so much fun, Darling," and John says, "Gee, thanks. Gary says that, too."
They stayed three hours, drinking and dancing and laughing. During a slow dance with Andy leading and John following, the drunk old gay man with impossibly red hair cut in and danced with John, neither of them leading, stepping on each other's feet, as Andy almost pissed his pants laughing.
Andy got very drunk, but John was only drinking light beer, so he was able to drive back to Wyoming. After only five minutes into the ride, Andy fell asleep in the middle of a sentence. Then, at the house, John helped Andy inside and asked, "Do you want me to stay with you or help you get in the shower or something? I mean, won't Dickie be coming here after work? Um, in a half hour or so?"
"Oh, Johnny, don't ask so many questions. You're always very verbose. Um, anyway, Dickie is eating at home tonight. His mom gets upset if he doesn't come home for dinner at least a few nights each week."
John looks around and frowns at Andy's apparent drunkenness. John, feeling a little drunk himself, finally says, "He always was a momma's boy, not that there's anything wrong with that."
Andy mutters, "No, he's, um..."
John pats Andy's back, "Okay, well, I'll be going if there is nothing you'd like me to do."
"Thanks, Johnny. I'm going to take a nap, but this was fun. We can go out to lunch tomorrow, Friday, if you want."
"Uh-huh, but let's have lunch in Wyoming tomorrow." He looks at Andy, who appears to have fallen asleep on the living room sofa. Nodding, John mutters, "Bye, I'll text you tomorrow," and leaves, anxious to get back to his and Gary's apartment, not realizing he thought of the apartment as 'his and Gary's' for the first time.
Getting into his truck, he says out loud, "Me and Gary. Gary and me! Yes, that feels and sounds right."
Safely back in the apartment, John walks around touching things, but everything he touches is Gary's, so he plans on going shopping tomorrow to buy some stuff for 'their' apartment. For now, he texted Gary, 'I know you can't respond, but I'm thinking about you, missing you, and just wanted to tell you that. I, um, didn't know I was going to fall for you this hard. I just wanted to tell you, ah, that I'm glad I have (fallen for you this hard). Love you, pretty boy.'
If he wasn't drunk, he wouldn't have sent this text, but he is drunk. Not falling down drunk, but using-poor-judgment drunk. He mutters, "Oh, fuck," and does a five-minute dildo jerk off, gasping when climaxing, then shedding a tear, saying, "Goddammit, Gary, why'd you have to go to that fucked-up training course? I need you..."
A little later, he cleaned up his jerk-off mess, cleaned the dildo and put it away, then went out and easily ate a three thousand calory dinner, taking an hour to do it. Then, at nine o'clock, feeling like a stuffed pig, he went to bed and jerked off without bothering with the dildo. All he did was fantasize about Gary's fat body on him as Gary fucked him like a fat wild man. John's climax was so intense he tried screaming, but only a whizzy, airy sound came out as John shook and shuddered, squeezing his dick, mumbling, "Oh God, I can't wait for next Saturday."
He fell asleep and dreamt about Gary and him on a raft, paddling madly with dildos. Dildos were the only thing they had to paddle with, keeping them safe as the raft got closer and closer to a waterfall. He woke up with a boner, sweating and feeling hungover. It was just getting light outside as John lay there in bed looking out the window, feeling lonely and weepy as he stroked his hard dick and got mad at Gary for not being here for him.
Falling back to sleep, John slept until ten o'clock, then got out of bed with only a small headache. The first thing he thought about was how he missed his early morning telephone call with Gary!
"GODDAMMIT!" John screams and then gets his phone to see the text from Gary that he knew would be there, and it was: Don't be mad at yourself that you missed our quick morning call. I liked your text yesterday; thanks, Darling! Listen, there is no reason you should need to get up at five o'clock on days you don't have work. Miss you!"
"Gee, I'm glad I sent that text yesterday!" John mumbles out loud, then he takes two Tylenol, which eliminates the headache by the time he is finished texting Gary: 'Yes, Gary, I miss you too, but I love talking with you in the morning, even if it's for only a minute or two. I overslept. Talk to you tomorrow morning! Love you, Johnny.'
Feeling okay now, he says, "I've gotta do this for my boyfriend and myself!" He does all the exercises, being meticulous about doing them correctly. Then he drinks a high-calorie smoothie and does the weight lifting, doing that correctly as well. Sweaty and breathing hard, John lies on the floor for ten minutes, thinking about how proud Gary would be if he saw John doing the exercises and weightlifting so perfectly.
Getting up, he sighed, happy with himself for doing his entire workout program. In the bathroom, he takes a crap, showers, and then does everything else in his regular morning bathroom routine. Getting dressed, he went out to buy a huge, very late breakfast. Yeah, he was starving, and lately, nothing except a huge breakfast would do. It's what his system is used to by now. He's like a dog, eating until there's no food left or until he throws up or begins feeling nauseous.
After breakfast, he went shopping at the Cheyenne Mall, unsure what he'd buy, but he wanted to buy something for the apartment. He wanted to surprise Gary with something unusual, and that thought made his eyes sting. He felt weepy again, missing Gary and feeling alone, which made him think once again about contacting a therapist. These overly emotional episodes couldn't be mentally healthy, could they?
Walking the Cheyenne Mall, walking off some calories, he's heading for Target at the opposite end when he sees a Photoshop and gets an idea. Inside the shop, he talks with a nice-looking young guy about blowing up the picture of Gary and him from his cell phone and somehow making it look more distinctive, as a piece of art... a framed picture to hang on the wall. Because of John's good looks, the young man takes a keen interest in John's photo project, asking, "Is he your brother?"
"No, he's my boyfriend, and he's away for a few weeks, so I'd like to surprise him with a picture of us framed and hung in our bedroom."
Surprised that John came right out as gay, Gerry, who is also gay, grins, nodding. Then, looking at John, the young guy murmurs sincerely, "That's so sweet. What's his name? What's your name, for that matter? I'm Gerry Spelling."
John tells him his and Gary's names. Gerry says, "Nice to meet you, John Darling," then, shoulder to shoulder with John, Gerry spends the next twenty minutes working with him on the photo, trying different settings. As they're doing that, a woman is also working behind the counter, dealing with a few customers. In between dealing with a few customers, the woman works on a crossword puzzle, asking, "Gerry, my brilliant college son, help me out. The clue is 'set in a serious way,' nine letters that end with a 'Y.'
Gerry scrunches his face, mumbling, "Nine letters ending in 'Y.' John whispers, "It's 'earnestly,' Gerry.
"That would be 'earnestly,' Mom."
She goes, "Yep, it fits! How about, Planned to be artificial... ending with a 'D,' nine letters?" John whispers, "Contrived." Gerry's grinning, saying, "Mom, for Christ's sake. That's so easy, it's 'contrived.'
She mutters, "Yeah, it is, my genius son. One more... To strike hard, starts with 'B' and four letters."
John whispered, "Biff." And Gerry goes, "Biff? What the fuck?" but John nods at Gerry's mom, and Gerry says, "Try 'biff,' Mom." She goes, "Perfect! Thanks, Honey."
Gerry grins at John, "Oh, you're a brainiac, huh?"
John shakes his head, "No way! I can do crossword puzzles and pass tests, but other than that, I'm an idiot most of the time."
Gerry mumbles, "I doubt that," and he takes John into the back of the shop and shows him how he can do various enlargements of the cell phone photo, and, with an arm across John's shoulders, they agree the thirty-by-thirty-inch version is the best. John is now leaning contentedly against Gerry as Gerry shows him a sexy black-and-white version of the picture, then changes the background to a vintage nineteen-fifties cowboy background. John's excited, "How'd you do that, Gerry?"
Gerry, twenty-one years old, is on a day off from Cheyenne Community College. He's John's height but slimmer than John, who is beginning to have a roll of fat around his waist. Gerry says, "Let me put a black cowboy hat on both of you." When he photoshops the picture some more, John squeals and hugs Gerry, saying, "I love that! That's the one, Gerry!"
He prints it out in a portrait format and then sells John a fifty-dollar frame for the photo, the whole package coming to ninety dollars. John puts the charge on his Visa card. Gerry says, "I'd normally need to charge twice this amount, but you're so cute, and your boyfriend is so lucky; I cut the cost in half, and I know you're going to have lunch with me. Right?"
John says, "Oh, yeah, I'd like that, Gerry, but I need to text somebody."
"Sure, cancel any previous plans for lunch because you've met someone more interesting and cuter."
John grins, "You are a helluva lot cuter," and he texts Andy: 'Sorry, but I can't do lunch today, you wonderful friend.' John stares at his phone, expecting a text reply, but none arrives. Now John's worried Andy's mad at him, but Gerry pats his back, asking, "Everything okay?"
Jeez, Gerry's cute. John nods, "Uh-huh, yeah, everything is great!"
The woman, Gerry's mom, owns the shop. Mrs. Spelling wraps up John's finished product and hands the package to John. Smiling, she tells John, "My son is going to give our store away before he's done."
John has no response to that, so he leans against Gerry, who automatically puts his arm protectively around John, the way all gay guys seem to do. John is someone that gay guys want to take care of, even if it's an unconscious emotion. Gerry says, "I'm taking my lunch hour, Mom."
She gives him a 'look,' mumbling, "Not a minute more, son."
With the package under John's arm and Gerry's arm around John's waist, they leave the shop with Mrs. Spelling calling, "Have fun, boys..."
Gerry naturally takes charge, saying, "I'm embarrassed about my junker 1990 Volkswagen Microbus, but it's parked right out the door, so we'll take it."
John asks, "Can't we eat here? There are like four restaurants right here in the Mall, and..."
Cutting him off, Gerry says, "Nah, I always eat here. Let's have a real restaurant experience at Delmarco's."
John asks, "The Italian restaurant on Laramie Street? Okay, sure, Gerry, I've eaten there a few times, but can I drop off my picture at my car first?"
Gerry drives to the other end of the Mall, where John's pickup is parked, and John puts the picture in his truck. Getting back into the shit box Volkswagen, he says, "I love that picture, Gerry! My boyfriend is going to love it too. Thank you for making it for me. You're really talented!"
"Thank you... you're so welcome! I was glad to do it for you because you're so attractive and very sweet! You know what? I know a place to park where we can have privacy."
"Whaat?"
Gerry assumes John is hot to trot because of how comfortable he has been with all the intimacy of Gerry, having his arm around him and so forth. Gerry, to be sure, asks, "Um, you're up for a 'nooner,' right, Johnny? I'd love to accommodate you with that. I always have a condom ready to go when an opportunity presents itself, and you're the best opportunity I've had in, um, well, the best one I've ever had."
"Whaat? Do you mean you want to have sex? I'm loyal to my boyfriend. Well, I guess if you want, you and I could do oral sex. I've rationalized the shit out of that and do it once in a while with my friend, Andy, so..."
Gerry grins, "You are so fucking perfect with that innocent bullshit of yours." He glances at John, "It's very believable, although I'll bet you have twenty notches on your belt for guys like me falling for you."
"No, that's not true at all, but I am horny because, as I said, my boyfriend is away, and we used to do it a couple of times each day, and now..."
Driving into an abandoned old garage missing a front door, Gerry mutters, "And now I'll bet you're still getting it at least twice a day, but not from him, right?"
"No, that's not right at all! And I resent the implication, Gerry. We can do oral if you want because you're attractive and because you did a fabulous job with that picture, but nothing more than a blowjob. That picture, though, is a work of art that Gary will love."
Parking and turning to John, Gerry mumbles, "Thanks, I'm so happy you like it, but we don't have to do anything sexy, you know. I thought you wanted to, which is why..."
Licking his lips, looking into Gerry's dark blue eyes, "John shrugs, "Um, well, since we're here," and he leans his head toward Gerry, who leans over to kiss John's lips, murmuring, "Get in the back."
Nodding, John opens the side door, and Gerry says, "No, just climb over the seat."
John closes the door and climbs over, then Gerry puts his arms around John, both guys sitting on the bench seat. Gerry murmurs, "I'm going to kiss you now, then you're going to suck my dick, and then I'm going to hand you a condom, and if you roll it on my boner, I'm going to fuck you very slowly, for ten or fifteen minutes, teasing you to the edge of climax and backing off until you have a climax you'll remember forever."
As John snuggles against Gerry, he says, "But I said..." and Gerry interrupts, "I know what you said, John, and any time during my ideal sexual experience with you that you say 'No!', then we're through, and I'll be grateful for as far as you're willing to go. You're the best-looking, cutest, most likable guy I've ever had my arms Around. It's that simple, and you must hear something like I just told you every day."
"No, I don't, and we can't..." but Gerry's mouth is on John's, and Gerry knows how to kiss, and it turns into a hot make out that John quickly becomes fully involved in, moaning quietly with a hard-as-rock penis in his pants. Gerry's hand moving over John's head knock off John's cowboy hat. John moans, leaning over until half his body is on Gerry, a leg between Gerry's legs.
They kiss and moan until Gerry slides his lips off John's lips and licks around John's mouth as he fishes out his boner and, with a hand behind John's head, pulls John's head down to his lap. John gobbles Gerry's six-inch boner, sucks on it, and then goes down on it, then again with the swollen head going into John's throat this time, and again the head plugs into John's throat.
Gerry rips open a condom packet and groans, humping his boner into John's throat yet again, this time pressing his hips up, keeping the head of his cock in John's throat, as he puts a slippery-with-lubricant condom in John's hand, and closing John's fingers on it. Lifting his head, John looks at Gerry's long, fat boner and then carefully rolls the condom on the head. Gerry's six-plus-inch boner bobs out of John's hand as Gerry murmurs, "Get your pants down; I'll do the rest of the condom roll."
John unbuttons, then pulls his jeans down, then his girlie underpants as Gerry goes, "Could you be any sexier? A shaved groin and girl's underpants, holy shit! Turn around," and when John moans and turns away from Gerry, then knells on the seat with his ass pushed up, Gerry gasps, holds his breath and mounts John, the hard head, dripping precum into the condom opening John's anus. John grunts and pushes his ass up at Gerry's hard cock, then the hard cock slides very tightly inside John's rectum. A long moan, sounding like sexual relief, comes from John and then repeated moans of ecstasy as Gerry slowly fucks John's ass.
Steady long thrusts go inside John's ass inch by inch, each inch making John groan and moan and stroke his hard boner. He's stroking it slowly, in time with Gerry's fat cock going inside his ass and immediately slowly coming back out, over and over, steady as it goes. John pushes his ass toward Gerry with each slow, steady thrust.
It felt terrific to John but didn't last ten minutes the way Gerry was hoping because John hadn't been fucked much since Gary left, and it was such pure pleasure he blew his load, squealing embarrassingly loud and long after only four minutes. It felt like a degree of sexual pleasure John couldn't even describe--the perfect scratch to John's insistent itch.
Gerry was like, "Jesus!" surprised that John blew off so soon when, ironically, John could hardly believe he could hold off that long. Gerry says, "Hold your ass right there," and then Gerry rabbit fucked John's ass, "Smack, smack, smack," for a minute before climaxing into the condom and letting out a breathy moan of pleasure, then, "Oh, God, that was really nice, John. Too quick, but nice just the same."
John's dizzy, still on his knees with his ass in the air, murmuring, "I wasn't going to do this, but I'm glad I did, Gerry. I'd forgotten what a good fuck on my ass felt like."
He's thinking about the rare times he's been fucked in the past ten days and how Gerry's was the only memorial one. Gary fucks too good!
Handing John a handful of tissues, Gerry says, "Wow, that hit the spot. Thanks, bro. Um, how was it for you?"
"You were great, Gerry, but I didn't know I was going to, you know..."
Yes, you already said that. You did it, though, so was it alright for you?"
Sitting on a wad of tissues, John put his arm around Gerry's neck, pulling Gerry's head over and kissing the side of his face; then he says, "I already told you it was great. The best sex since my boyfriend went away, but I'm pissed off I didn't have any willpower. I want to be loyal to Gary."
Gerry says, "How 'bout the way his and my names are so similar?"
"Oh, yeah, maybe that's why I got confused. How's that for rationalizing?"
After tossing the condom out the window, Gerry's putting his dick back in his pants and zipping up, asking, "Do you think that rationalization could work tomorrow at lunch? Or I could come over to your place tonight after work."
Pulling his pants up, John mutters, "We can't use my place because it's Gary's and my, um, apartment, but I can rent a motel room."
They climb back into the front seats; Gerry puts the piece of shit Volkswagen in gear and says, "No need for that, John. My brother has an apartment on Fifth Street, and he works nights. I can use the apartment anytime I want, but I cannot use his bed. That's his only rule."
"Fifth Avenue? That's a street over from Gary's and my apartment. Um, I don't know, though, Gerry. Maybe I'll work up some willpower."
Gerry pulls into the parking lot for Delmarco's Italian restaurant and parks, saying, "I'll go out on a limb and bet you can't come up with enough willpower to say no to me tonight. As a matter of fact, let's do it after lunch, too. Whaddaya say, John?"
They look one another in the eyes, and then John nods, "Okay, yeah, um, I'm having a hard time resisting you, Gerry. You were so nice fixing Gary's and my picture, and you're so cute and sexy. Why don't you have a boyfriend?"
"I have one, but he's in the Coast Guards. He joined a month ago, and you're my first cheating experience. We swore to be true to one another, and then you walked into my mom's shop, and my promise went out the window."
Shrugging, John murmurs, "I'm sorry."
They get out and, walking into the restaurant, Gerry is saying, "Maybe we can be each other's cheating fuck-buddy, ya know?"
They get seated, and a grossly overweight waitress comes over, dropping menus on the table, saying, "Welcome, fellows, I'm Lulu. What can I get you to drink?"
John remembers Andy's and his fat person discussion yesterday and is having a hard time holding back his laughter. Gerry orders a beer and asks John, "Is beer okay?" John nods, shows his ID, and then gasps when Lulu goes off to get their beers. Gerry, grinning but not knowing what's funny, asks, "What the fuck were you laughing about...?"
John tells him about the fat people discussion and then later, eating ravioli for lunch, goes on to tell Gerry every detail of his ordeal, starting with last Spring, the accident, his parent's death, the coma, his amnesia, his nurse Andy Salsbury, his best friend since childhood, who he never did anything sexy with, Dickie Marshall, and up to the current situation with Gary, "And now you, Gerry."
"I'll be Goddammed, but I know Dickie Marshall; he lives in my neighborhood. He was a year ahead of me in high school."
John says, "What? Oh, well, I went to school with Dickie, but didn't live in his neighborhood."
Gerry asks, "Where did you live?"
John tells him, and Gerry says, "Oh, rich people, huh?"
"I guess, and now I own the house."
As John's finishing the salad that came with the double order of cheese ravioli, Gerry asks him, "How can you eat so much?"
"What? I was hungry."
Nodding, looking amazed that someone as slim as John can eat as much as he did, Gerry mutters, "Well, why don't we meet at your house?"
John tells Gerry about Andy living in the house, and then he insists on paying for the lunch since Gerry gave him such a reasonable price for the picture. As they wait for Lulu to come back with the bill and credit card, Gerry says, "You're something alright. That's, um, that's nuts. Why the hell would you live in that run-down apartment building when you own a house in that neighborhood that's worth seven to eight hundred thousand dollars?"
"Well, Andy came to Wyoming to help me, so I couldn't leave him destitute, could I?"
Inside Gerry's Volkswagen, Gerry mumbles, "No, I guess not. Goddamn, though, it's mind-blowing that you're best friends with freckled-faced Dickie Marshall. I always liked him but never had an inkling he was gay. With the motor running, Gerry looks around, then asks, "Hey, John, we could do it again right here at the back of this parking lot. What do you say?"
John makes a face, then says, "Dammit, I can't say no to you. Um, that was the best sex I've had since my Gary left. You're, um, hot, Gerry. I feel a good connection with you."
As they climb over the seat, Gerry says, "Thanks, I'm feeling the same for you. We're simpatico with our boyfriends away, ya know. Ah, I don't have another condom, but you're plenty lubed, so it'll be a smooth entry."
They both have boners without even a kiss. John can't get his pants down fast enough, and then Gerry thrusts his hard cock, all six-plus inches all the way up John's ass, both guys moaning, 'AHHH! OOh!" and there was no slow thrusting this time. It was out of control rabbit-fast fucking; John justled around, the top of his head bouncing off the door on the right side of that older-than-shit Volkswagen bus. They climaxed at the same time, thrashing around, shooting cum here and there, Gerry's cock pulling out of John's ass, then he fumbles it back inside and, "Slap, slap, slap," for another two minutes with John cooing, "Oh, oh, oh...".
Gerry pulled out, and they hugged, humping against each other's sloppy junk, hearts pounding, gasping, and breathing deeply. Gerry starts to say, "That was even better..." but stops because a man's voice says, "What's going on in there? The way this piece of shit was rocking, I have a pretty good idea.."
John and Gerry take about five seconds to get their pants up, and they bump into each other, climbing over the front seats. Gerry fires up the Volkswagen's pathetic engine, and they take off slowly because this piece of shit bus couldn't take off fast when it was new, never mind now.
They're both looking in the outside rearview mirrors, seeing two guys in their twenties, probably college students, pointing at the escaping bus and laughing. Gerry snickers, "We got punked, John. One of those dip-shits lowered his voice to sound authoritative... haha it's pretty funny, actually.
"The joke is on them, sort of. They think we were a guy and girl fucking. And, by the way, the suspension is a little bit loose on this buggy. We were going up and down along with the bus."
Gerry mutters, "Yeah, the shocks are about twenty years old."
John directs Gerry to where his car is parked; then, the Volkswagen bus idling, Gerry and John exchange phone numbers, Gerry saying, "I'm not used to making all the decisions, John, but you seem to expect me to do that. So, I'm not being an obnoxious dork when I tell you to be at my brother's apartment building's front entrance at eight o'clock tonight. I'll meet you there, and we'll have two good hours before we need to clear out. Is that okay with you?"
"Hmm, that sounds so exciting and enticing, Gerry, but I really shouldn't. I'm going to have a guilty conscience as it is. I'm sorry... really sorry."
"Okay, John. I'll be there at eight o'clock; please don't leave me holding my dick in heat and panting for you."
"What? Panting? I don't feel right doing that tonight, although maybe I will be unable to resist in a few days. You're very attractive and nice, and you're right that I do like my sex partner to be, um, bossy..."
Gerry laughs, "Omigod, I've never met anyone like you. You're one in a million, and with the coolest last name, too. I'll be there tonight... just in case," and he hugs John, adding, "I'll see you at eight o'clock."
John mumbles, "Yeah, um, probably... heh-heh. Bye, Gerry. I love the picture!"
To be continued... donnymumford@outlook.com
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