This story is fiction any similarities between persons either living or dead is purely coincidental (although any good writer will write what he knows). This is a story that deals with male-to-male relationships as well as homosexual sex. If this offends you or is illegal in your location please do not read any further. This statement releases me the author and the site wherein this story is posted from any legal action. Copyright 1999-2000 by Patrick Sean Purdy.
Chapter 12: Settling In
In the time since our first date, Brandon and I had taken every opportunity to be together. It was a little easier after December 15th, when school was let out, because then I had more extra time to steal away to Brandon. This was also nice, because we were both heading home for the holidays. Brandon and I grew closer and he seemed to be more at ease with the situation confronting us. He was seriously questioning and defining his sexuality in terms of himself as well as the way it related to us.
Every night we spent together Brandon and I would curl up behind one another, just holding the other tenderly. Cuddling was, for us, the climax. I never pressured for him to do this or that, what we did was because we were both willing to try. Always though, we came back to cuddling. The security that it provided was most important in defining our feelings for each other.
Finally, the twenty-third came and I packed my clothes and headed up to Brandon's apartment. I was leaving may car there for a week and we both would take a cab to JaxPort (Jacksonville International Airport), where we would fly together to Atlanta and then take our separate planes to our homes in Pennsylvania and New York.
I arrived at Brandon's place in the mid-morning so we could spend as much time together as possible. We were just going to hang out, pack his bags, enjoy each others company, and, around three o'clock, take our cab to the airport. When I arrived, Brandon answered his door in boxers and a t-shirt, having just woken up, and grumbled his way to the bathroom for his shower after giving me a kiss.
While Brandon cleaned and woke himself up, I went into the kitchen to get some coffee ready. I also rummaged through his refrigerator and started making him some french toast. Brandon loves my french toast. Coming out of the bathroom Brandon, wearing only a towel, lifted his nose in the air and smelled my surprise breakfast.
"Awwww," he said, "You're so good to me Evan. French toast and coffee? You spoil me."
"Like you don't deserve it? You know as well as I do that we spoil each other."
"True, but the little gestures really add up."
"Well, get cracking because this little gesture is getting cold. Now get eating."
Together we sat down at his kitchen table and ate the meal saying very little, and stealing glances at one another. It's funny we sometimes behaved as if we were still unsure the other even noticed us. I giggled. Brandon looked up at me and smiled, he could probably figure out what had me laughing to myself.
Brandon finished his meal and rose from the table. Being in just the towel his perfect chest and abs rose like Prometheus from the sand. He leaned down to kiss me in thanks for the breakfast but I held him closer and tighter because he turned me on so much. I kissed him with such passion and I slipped my hand around his waist cupping his ass while I rose from my chair to stand face-to-face with him. He understood that this was going to be more than a quick kiss and submitted to the pleasure.
There in the kitchen, while never breaking the kiss, Brandon started to unbutton and remove my shirt. Simultaneously, he pulled me with him towards the bedroom. After slipping my shirt off my shoulders he broke the kiss long enough to pull the t-shirt right over my head. All the while my own hands were moving also. My right hand was hiking up the towel, so I could feel Brandon's firm ass, and my left hand was trailing the fingers up and down his spine lightly; something I knew that drove him wild.
As my hand roamed around under the towel, it became loose and slipped from around his waist; draped only on my arm now. Brandon continued kissing me across my chin and down the nape of my neck, his tongue bathing me as his lips sweetly planted themselves all around me. He continued along my chest stopping in the middle and then circling wide to the right, finally stopping at my nipple. He simply breathed hotly at first, which was a major turn on for me, and then he flicked his tongue out rapidly back and forth across the bud. Brandon had learned that my nipples were very sensitive and he had used this to his and my advantage. Finally he took the whole thing in his mouth and gently nibbled and sucked causing me to writhe and squirm in pleasure.
While he played with my chest one hand caressed my side, and the other reached down and started to unbutton my pants. I didn't mind, as my erection was straining in my pants wanting room to move about. At the same time I reached down with my right hand and grabbed his cock. I rubbed it up and down massaging it slowly keeping him turned on just enough. My left hand roamed approvingly through his hair as he continued the oral assault on my chest . . .
Chapter 13: Airport
"You know we didn't have time for that," Brandon observed.
"I know," I said as I rolled on my side to kiss him, "But I just couldn't help myself around you. Now, let's shower together really quickly, the taxi should be here in twenty minutes."
"All right, but let's actually shower."
I rose from the bed, turned and started to tug on Brandon's arm pulling him to his feet. "I promise, we'll shower. I'm not getting onto the plane all dirty like I am . . . not that I mind being close to you this way. It's just not the best for traveling."
We showered and got ready, shutting down the apartment and heading out the door just as the cab was pulling up. We threw our luggage in the trunk, plopped down in the back seat, and ignored that cab smell. You know, the smell of the thousands of people who have sat in the exact spot as you are right now.
We arrived at JaxPort and waited to check our baggage. It never ceases to amaze me such an airport can serve so few people, going to so many places, so slowly. I noticed that none of the people on line seem to be going to the same place. Everyone had a different destination; which is odd considering Delta flies everyone through Atlanta.
Finally, they checked our baggage and gave Brandon and I our boarding passes. We walked to our gate and picked out a seat to wait in. While we were walking toward the gate I noticed a well dressed guy seated facing away from us.
The guy looked to be in his early twenties (all observations made from behind, mind you), he looked like he was probably over six feet tall, with dark hair and medium-tanned skin. His hair was styled in a simple fade, gelled at the top. His clothing was neat and fashionable. He was wearing a two-tone deep maroon shirt with black pants, as well as some Onkyo titanium framed sun-glasses.
All of this I saw as Brandon and I took our seat back to back with this guy. I had the fleeting thought that this guy was handsome so far, but then I looked at Brandon and realized I didn't care. Of all the things I saw, I never noticed the dog sitting half-under the seat to the right of the guy, until I shoved my carry on briefcase under my seat and hit it. I heard a groan from under the seat and then the guy.
"What's the matter Benny?" The dog gave a sigh, and I heard it's chain fall on the ground. I turned and noticed it there, my mind being puzzled by it's presence.
"Good girl," the guy said in a very quiet and calm voice.
"I'm sorry," I said, "I didn't even notice her she's so quiet." He sort of turned his head in my direction and said, "She's supposed to be." He spoke quietly and firmly, and he never actually looked at me. That's when I realized that he was blind.
"Evan," said Brandon, "Are beating up on this guys dog?" Brandon paused for a second and a puzzled look crossed over his face. Before I could stop him or give him a 'No' sign, Brandon spoke again.
"Wait a minute, what's a dog doing in the airport?" I just hung my head and hid my face with my hand.
"It's my seeing-eye dog," I heard the guy explain simply.
"Oh, that's cool," Brandon said. Then Brandon buried his head in his bag looking for his CD Player. I figured if Brandon could be so nonchalant about it, so could I.
We had forty five minutes to kill until boarding time. Brandon and I just chatted about our plans for home and gave each other looks. We were chatting for about twenty minutes when I hear the guy behind us clearing his throat.
"I don't mean to pry, and if the two of you are simply best friends, I apologize; but the two of you sound like you make a nice couple."
Brandon and I looked at each other a little stunned. We'd been found out, and by someone who was only listening to us. Did the casual observer notice? Do we look like a gay couple?
"I don't mean to eavesdrop," he continued, "But listening is all I can do while waiting for a flight. I'm sorry if I was totally off base and if I offended you. I didn't mean to imply . . . well . . . I mean . . . Oh, Jesus, I'm sorry."
"It's all right," I found myself saying. I looked around; nobody else was near enough to hear what I was about to say. I looked at Brandon and he gave me a nod. I continued, "You're right, we're a couple, but we didn't think we were being blatant about it. Neither one of us is a stereo-typical effeminate fag, and we like to keep our private lives to ourselves. I hope we weren't throwing it in your face."
"Oh, not at all," the guy replied, "I didn't mean to imply that at all. Actually it wasn't your speech or subject matter that made me think anything of it. Instead, it was the way the two of you are so considerate with one another. When all you can do is listen, you learn to hear things that most people will miss. By the way, I'm Ashton." He turned in his seat more towards me and raised his hand to shake.
I grasped his hand saying, "I'm Evan. Seated next to me is Brandon." Brandon said hello and reached across to shake Ashton's hand.
"Good firm hand shakes;" Ashton said, "Now I know the two of you are not queens. I'm pleased to meet you both.
"I have a small confession;" he continued, "The other reason thought you may be a couple is because I'm gay. I tend to project." At this little bit of information Brandon and I both started laughing, Ashton soon joining in. This had relaxed quite a bit in a very short time, and that was good thing.
"Well," I said, "Isn't it just like a bunch of fags to gravitate to each other blindly?" I blanched immediately. "I'm sorry," I stammered, "I didn't mean . . ." Ashton put his hand up to quiet me.
"It's just an expression, it doesn't mean anything. No harm, no foul, right?"
"Right," I agreed readily. I was relieved that Ashton was so calm about my faux-pas. Brandon gave me a smirk and was pointing at me.
"Brandon," Ashton announced, "You're awfully quiet over there. You wouldn't be making faces over there, would you?" Now it was Brandon's turn to whiten.
"As a matter of fact, Ashton, he was." I smiled and started laughing again, soon joined by Brandon and Ashton. We all started to chat and get to know one another. Brandon and I learning so much about Ashton, and he was learning equally as much about us.
Ashton was twenty-three years old and he lived alone in Ponte Vedra. He was originally from Aventura, a suburb of Miami. We also found out that he wasn't born blind, but had been the victim of a terrible prank gone too far.
Five years before, Ashton had come to terms for himself, admitting that he was gay. Once that was done, he made the monumental decision to come out. He told, friends, family, teachers; Ashton hid the truth from no one. Most people were fine with it, not completely open, but he wasn't shunned for the larger part. Of course, his parents had a period of adjustment, but a little less than a year later they were starting to become a normal family again.
A few months later, Ashton went to a party. It was winter break at Florida Atlantic University, as well as most other school, and he had been hanging out with friends from his high school. There were people from his high school, local universities, and plenty of people he didn't know at the party. It had been well over a year since Ashton's initial coming out and it was common knowledge; the sky is blue and Ashton is gay. Apparently, someone at the party was not happy knowing this. Figuring they would make him very sick, somebody slipped de-natured alcohol (basically paint thinner) into Ashton's drink. Yes, it made him sick, and I'm sure whoever did it got a big laugh, but over the next three days Ashton went blind.
Just when things were settling down and becoming normal, there was a new major life adjustment. At first, Ashton was disoriented, then angry, and finally, when those two emotions failed, Ashton became severely depressed. He felt hopeless and despondent; and with that he felt crushed, being able to do nothing. His depression lasted for nearly two years, in which he stayed at home, where he couldn't eat, couldn't sleep, and couldn't hold a civil conversation with his parents. Ever time they suggested a course of therapy training for the blind, a seeing eye dog, or even just doing something, Ashton would always shrug and say, "Maybe," but with no real conviction.
It was just as he was approaching his own twenty-first birthday that Ashton allowed his parents to take him to a therapist. It was a combination of learning to be blind and dealing with all the conflicting, and negative, emotions running through him. He never had a great Epiphany or a conversation that changed his life, but Ashton slowly realized that he could be normal once again. Or, at least as close as he could manage.
Now, two years later, Ashton was living on his own, living off of his Social Security Disability and his musical compositions. He wasn't completely alone either, his older sister had moved to Jacksonville a few years before. He also had friends that stopped by often and a nurse/maid that was provided by Medicare through a social agency. Ashton had learned how to live as a blind man, and he had people to help him when he needed it. Now, all he needed was a man.
As it turned out, Ashton was on the same flight as we were heading to Atlanta to visit a friend from high school who had gone to Georgia Tech and decided to stay in the area. For the most part over the last four years they had kept in touch through e-mail and phone. This year they had decided to spend some time together before Christmas, and hang out like old times.
We weren't seated near each other, but Ashton explained to the stewardess that we were accompanying him as a last minute decision and that we be seated near him. She was a little put off, but was able to accommodate us. The three of us continued to chat all the way to Atlanta and made sure that we had phone numbers and e-mail addresses exchanged. I noticed Ashton looked like he was just going through the motions and I felt a little bad. I wondered how many times he had done this only to have the person not call or write.
"Seriously," I said, as our plane was pulling into the Atlanta terminal, "When we get back from our Christmas' up north, and you get back from yours down in Miami, Brandon and I are taking you out for a night of good food and great music." Ashton's face brightened up immediately, and I could see that he was looking forward to our next meeting already.
As we exited the plane Ashton's friend, John, was waiting for him. We gave a few quick introductions as people bustled by us. Just as quickly though, Brandon and I had to say goodbye to Ashton so we could catch our own flights.
Brandon and I headed over to the monitor with departure information and both of our flights were on time, but at completely different terminals. My flight left in fifteen minutes and Brandon's flight was to leave in twenty-five.
"I guess this is it," Brandon said.
"I'm gonna miss you," I replied.
"Me too. Just remember call me."
"I will, I just hope your parents don't suspect."
"They won't my parents are cool, I've been thinking about telling them. Not now, during the holidays, but in a couple of months."
"That'd be good . . . get it out in the open and all. Listen, we're gonna miss our flights, give me a hug."
"Here?"
"Yeah here."
"But, what if someone sees us?"
"Brandon, who knows who we are?"
"True . . ." With that word, Brandon stepped forward and gave me a great hug, which I returned. I was going miss him a lot. We parted and I started towards my gate looking back every so often. Brandon was walking towards his gate, doing the same thing.
<E-Mail: Breakers76@aol.com> <Website: http://www.geocities.com/SouthBeach/Breakers/7043/index.html>