This story, modified to protect the anonymity of those involved, blends fact and fantasy.
Reader feedback is welcomed, and the author will do his best to answer questions and respond to comments. Contact him at hairy.jacques@yahoo.com.
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Ever since he kissed me goodbye, Rich's words echoed in my head: "We need to talk."
What did he mean? Was there a problem I needed to know about? Was he having second thoughts? But if he was, then why did he kiss me and invite me to have dinner with him?
These were the questions running through my head as I was finishing my afternoon desk shift. Of course, I was also savoring the memories of all that had transpired. These had my cock throbbing in my khakis. Our time together had almost overwhelmed my senses. The sight of his masculine, muscular body. The sound of his voice, panting in desire and moaning in pleasure. The taste of his sweat and cum. The musky smell of his pubes. The feel of his soft, wet lips surrounding my dick and the feel of his thick, hard, supple cock stretching my lips and filling my throat. It was all so hot and yet also so right. Everything about my time with him clicked together just perfectly to confirm in my mind what for years I'd known, even if I wasn't always able to admit it to myself. I was gay.
As it turned out, so, apparently, was Rich. And he seemed to feel as attracted to me as I was to him. I couldn't believe my luck. It seemed too good to be true.
As I finished sorting and depositing the mail Michelle showed up to relieve me at the front desk. Just as I was leaving Rich walked into the lobby.
"Hey," he greeted me, smiling.
"Hey," I replied, smiling back. My eyes quickly surveyed him. He looked really handsome in his Army BDU camouflage fatigues.
"I've been thinking about you all day," he whispered.
"Me too," I responded.
We walked to the elevator. After the doors opened, he pressed the button for his floor. "Come to my room and let me change," he said. "Then we'll head out for dinner."
As he followed me into his room and pulled the door shut, I turned to face him. We just stood there for an awkward second before I leaned forward to kiss him. His big arms wrapped around me and we started to make out. There was nothing tentative about our kissing. It was passionate; we were hungry for each other. I reached behind him to grab his ass and pull his crotch forward to press against my own. I could feel my cock hardening as our tongues did battle. Things were escalating quickly. That's when he broke the kiss and pulled back.
"If we don't stop," he said, "we'll never get to the restaurant."
Relenting, I stepped aside so that he could change. I watched as he unbuttoned his BDU jacket. (He'd later joke with me about how officially this garment was a BDU "blouse." It was the least feminine thing imaginable, but the Army loved to screw with the English language.) The olive t-shirt underneath clung nicely to his muscular torso. The thin cotton fabric revealed the points of his nipples as well as the fact that he'd been sweating. I could see the dark circles of perspiration around his armpits as his raised his arms to pull off the shirt and toss it on the floor of his opened closet. Now naked from the waist up, I could admire his muscular, hairy body. My instinct was to look away--to give him privacy and act as if I had no interest. But we both knew better, so I fought the impulse to avert my eyes.
I stared as he began to unbutton the fly of his camouflage pants. He was going commando. His pants hit the floor to reveal a half-hard cock surrounded by an untamed thicket of brown hair. I could feel my mouth water.
"Can't I just drop to my knees now?" I asked him, only half joking.
He chuckled. "Let's have dinner first."
He reached into his closet to grab a pair of Wranglers. Soon his chest was covered by a wifebeater and a red- and black-checked flannel shirt. It would be a major understatement to say that he looked handsome. He looked molten hot.
"You ready?" Rich asked, flashing his pearly whites.
"I'm feeling a little bit overdressed," I admitted. I was still wearing a tie from my desk shift. "Maybe I should go to my room and change." He smiled at me broadly, staring into my eyes as he grabbed my tie and used it to pull me in for quick kiss. Our eyes still locked, my cock stiffened as I felt his big hands undoing my tie knot and then releasing the top button of my shirt. The whole process was somehow very intimate.
He stepped back, still smiling. "Now you look perfect," he said, folding my tie and tossing it on his desk. "Let's go."
As I climbed into the passenger seat of his truck I asked the obvious question: "Where are we going?"
"A really good barbecue restaurant," he said, turning the key in the ignition. Throwing the engine into reverse, he extended his right arm behind my headrest to turn and look backwards. This brought his face closer to mine. He looked into my eyes. "It's actually a good 45-minute drive. But I figured it would be good to get out of town. Plus, it gives us time to talk."
"You've had me worried all day," I admitted as we rolled toward the edge of campus.
"What about?" he asked.
"About what it is you want to discuss. Everything's okay, right?"
Rich reached down to rest his hand on my thigh. "Everything's great," he said. "Better than great. I finally found someone with whom I can be myself. A guy who understands me. A guy who's not afraid to be true to himself."
I was beaming. I couldn't control how broadly I was smiling. And then, just when I thought that I couldn't be happier, Rich cleared his throat.
"And then there are two other things," he continued. "The first is that I think we share the same values. The second," he said, leering at me and tightening his grip on my thigh, "is that you have the tightest, hottest body, and your cock tastes amazing."
I laughed out loud. Rich had great comic timing. But he also knew how to say exactly what I wanted to hear.
"You know I'm not joking," he said, laughing with me.
"I know," I replied. "And it makes me really happy. I can't believe it, almost. You're just about the hottest guy I've ever known."
"Just about?" he asked, teasing me.
"Correction," I said, "you're definitely the hottest guy I've ever known."
"I'm glad you think that," he said. "Really glad. And I'm not going to tell you otherwise. But don't think I'm not counting my blessings you've got a thing for hairy, sweaty Neanderthals."
Our conversation flowed freely as Rich steered his truck along the two-lane county roads that led to the restaurant. We talked about everything. I was telling him things that days earlier I wouldn't even admit to myself: when I first knew I was gay, what I thought about when I beat off, how I faked being straight to my family and friends.
"You've never hooked up with a guy before?" Rich asked.
"Never," I admitted. "You?"
"Nope. No guys until you. You're my one and only." I liked the way that sounded.
"What about girls?" I asked.
"A few," Rich admitted. "It never felt right. I dated a cheerleader in high school. She was a good friend, mostly."
"Did you fuck?" I blurted out. As soon as I asked, I kind of regretted it. The question seemed crass. "Sorry," I apologized. "None of my business."
"What are you saying? Where my dick has been is 100% your business." He paused for a long second. "We were both virgins until the night of the senior prom. I wanted to prove to myself that I was straight. I was able to do it, but not without thinking about half of my teammates naked in the locker room. I made an excuse to break up soon after."
"But there were others?"
"Just two, but not even." he responded. "This is when I was pledging my fraternity. We'd get pretty drunk. The first one I fucked still trying to prove to myself that I could be straight. It was a one-night thing, and not very good. The second," he paused, chuckling a bit, "was the night of the Tri Delt formal. I was trashed and basically got date-raped. She wouldn't take 'no' for an answer. When I couldn't keep it up for her, we blamed the alcohol."
"Keep it up?" I asked. In hindsight I feel so dense about needing a clarification.
"My dick," Rich replied. "She sucked me and got me hard enough to penetrate her, but pretty soon I went limp."
"Sorry," I said.
"Don't be," Rich responded. "It made things more clear to me. From that point forward I found excuses not to hook up. My frat brothers started calling me the choir boy.'"
"That's kind of mean," I said, feeling defensive for Rich. I didn't like the idea of anyone calling him names.
"Mean, maybe, but also true. I'm in the choir at our church. I see you there every Sunday morning."
"I had no idea you were in the choir," I admitted. "You guys are really good."
"Thanks," he said, smiling. "The best part, though, is being way up high in the back of the church and being able to watch that tight butt of yours as you kneel and stand." He started to laugh. "I especially like it when you're kneeling."
I felt myself blush. Ever since I was a kid I had the lazy habit of not lowering my knees all the way to the padded kneeler that flips down from the base of the pew in front of me. Instead, I kind of slide forward, turning my ass upwards on the edge of the pew.
"I think I'm embarrassed," I confessed.
"You shouldn't be," Rich countered. "You should be proud."
Dinner was great. We split a full rack of ribs and enjoyed sides of mac-n-cheese and cole slaw. Being far from the college, the place didn't card, so I even got served. Since he was 21 but I was still 20, at most restaurants I'd be out of luck. It was nice to be able to drink a beer with Rich. Mostly, it was just nice to be with him. It was great, in fact.
He looked really handsome sitting across from me. He'd rolled up the sleeves of his flannel shirt, exposing his hairy, muscular forearms. He had the top two buttons of his shirt undone as well, treating me to glimpses of his hairy chest. The stubble on his jaw was beginning to reemerge. It was looking especially bristly at the cleft of his chin, where it must have been difficult for him to get a close shave. And then there were his hazel eyes. I know it sounds like bullshit from some romance novel, but I found myself getting lost in them. They had darker flecks of color and a depth and complexity that isn't easy to explain.
All of this had my cock throbbing, but what made it start to leak was when he took his big feet and clasped them on either side of my right foot. I loved the physical contact. It made me feel so wanted and desired.
As we finished our meal, Rich laid out an agenda. "There are two stops I want to make on the way back to the dorm," he said.
My eyes opened wider.
"The first is the drug store on the edge of town," he explained. "I hope I'm not being presumptuous, but I'm thinking it might be a good idea to buy some lube."
I smiled, flattered that Rich, so soon, was willing to move things forward. "I've already waited too long," I said. "I'm ready when you are."
He leaned forward and whispered: "Is it okay if we don't get condoms?"
The truth was I hadn't even thought of using them. But for a second I was having second thoughts. AIDS was a big deal in the early 90s. Even straight guys like Magic Johnson could get it.
"I think so," I said, lowering my eyes and verbalizing my thoughts. "I know I'm okay, and I know you're okay. You didn't get anything from a virgin cheerleader and a couple of sorority girls..."
"I know I didn't," he interrupted. "I know we're both okay. It's just that it's kind of a big commitment." He went to grasp my hand but, realizing we were in a public place, pulled his hand away. Instead, his feet squeezed more tightly around my shoe.
"The way I see it," he explained, "there's only one time you don't have to worry. It's when it's your first time without condoms and also his first time without them. And if you stay monogamous, you're good. That's us right now. I'm not going to think into the future for me--you're the only guy I can ever imagine wanting--but if we're going to preserve the options for you, then maybe we should buy them."
I let what he said sink in. After too long of a pause, I responded: "Rich, you're the only one for me. I don't want anything between us."
He exhaled, smiled, and waived to the waitress for the bill. We didn't say much on the way home. It's not that there was silence between us. It's that there was small talk. I asked Rich about his truck. He told me what it was like being in the ROTC and his plans to fly helicopters for the Army. We compared experiences swimming (me) and playing football (him) in high school.
He pulled into a CVS drugstore on the edge of town. "Wait here," he said, before heading in by himself and then returning with a small bag. He handed it to me. I peeked inside and saw the box containing the tube of KY Jelly. Suddenly what we were about to do got extra real.
"What's the second stop?" I asked.
"St. Barnabas," he said. Our church.
"It's open?" I asked. It was nearly 8:30.
"The priests don't lock the doors until 9:00," he said.
"Why are we going to St. Barnabas?"
Rich paused for a couple of long seconds.
"Because I want us to pray together," he finally said. "I hope you're okay with it. I want to pray in church. I know it's not where we actually met, but it's where I first noticed you, before we met. And please don't think I want us to ask for forgiveness. God made us, so God loves us. As we are. I just want to ask for His blessing."
To be continued...
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