The Embarrassment of Riches

The Embarrassment of Riches Chapter Twelve: The Nice-mare Before Christmas

The people, places and events of this story exist only in my (and now your) imagination; therefore, any resembelences to real people, real places or real events would be really cool.

Sean had been a pupil at the Earl of Lennox Boys School; it was an expensive educational institution. Like most of the boys who attended, his parents were well-to-do so he did not need a job. He didn't need to earn spending money or save for university. But Sean was endeavouring not to become complacent or too-posh to work and past employment always looked good on a CV or Uni application.

Sean would never have had the idea if he hadn't developed an unhealthy crush on Martin. Martin was hot, but also involved; with an older man, Sean was sure. Still, Sean would never have had the idea if he hadn't become infatuated with Martin who worked at the Pothos Emporium and it was they who had been looking for Christmas staff. Sean would be the first to admit he had left his endeavour a bit late as it was now only two weeks before Christmas but there was always the chance, if he got the job at all, he might be kept on after the festive period. Especially if he proved as attractive an employee as Martin.

Sean had called and spoken to Graham Cauldwell, the manager of the Pothos Emporium. Graham was surprised to be solicited for a job having advertised for the additional staff he would need for Christmas months ago. However, Sean was very persuasive so Graham agreed to meet him – Sean turned up in Graham's office after school one day. That day turned out to be the day Martin had given his sex-ed demonstration and Sean would much rather have gone home and wanked until his cock fell off, but needs must.

"Sean, it's nice to meet you," Graham said.

Graham had been impressed by the look of the young man who had walked in; five foot eight or one metre seventy-three tall, but still growing was Graham's guess; the lad had short brown hair and a handsome lantern jaw.

"Thanks for seeing me," Sean replied politely.

"So why do you want to work here?" Graham asked.

I want to spend my time checking out Martin and crossing my fingers he's naked a lot.

Sean didn't say that, out loud, rather he replied; "I'm looking for a part time job, something I can put on my CV when I finish school and I suppose I should encourage my own work ethic."

"I see. Are you planning to go to university?" Graham asked.

Then it hit him, Graham had met this boy before – briefly. Sean and his friends went to school with Martin; he had invited them to come see Martin humiliated in the shop window. Something in his expression gave this recognition and realisation away because Sean smiled.

"I might do. Right now I'm still at the Earl of Lennox Boys School," Sean answered; "I'm seventeen, also a Gemini," he added flippantly.

Graham chuckled and asked again; "And why do you want to work here?"

"I think I'd find it interesting," Sean answered.

Graham nodded and then smiled; "Why don't you come back next Saturday and I'll interview some more," he suggested. He was thinking about Martin working next weekend and he was starting to have ideas. "By the way... do you work well with others?"

Friday night and Martin had hoped to spend the night with E.J.; he would have to rise and shine early for work but he enjoyed stirring blearily from sleep with E.J.'s warm body beside him. Unfortunately, E.J. had business at the Symposium Athletics Club in Glasgow for the second week in a row; they'd missed coitus last weekend for the same reason. Glasgow was only forty or fifty minutes away but they were putting E.J. up in a nice hotel for the night – Martin was crossing his fingers business was concluded early enough for E.J. to see him tomorrow night.

E.J. had proposed that Martin might join him in the swanky hotel but one, Martin had work in the morning; and two, his parents would never let him go away all weekend with his older lover in case he got axe-murdered or sold into slavery.

It wasn't all doom and gloom, it gave Martin the chance to read more letters from his birth mum. As he learned more about her, he discovered how hard it had been for her to give him up. She had said all that in her first letter, sure; but the more she wrote, the more of the person behind the words came through. What was a glaring hole in every letter however, was his father. There were a few references but not many: he had been too young, as she had been, and they appeared to have lost touch. Martin wondered if the man, he would be a man by now, knew he had a son. Did he have family of his own now, did Martin have more half-brothers or sisters out there? He imagined sharing DNA with boys at his school... was that possible?

Martin could not ask the written word these questions and his mum and dad would or could answer only so much at one time. It was hard for the parents who raised him to see his interest in a family beyond them. However, Martin had finally worked up the courage to ask something his mum would answer.

"Was she cremated or buried?"

There had been more of a prelude before the question had been asked but still his mother paused before answering. She turned from the cup of tea she was stewing and thought carefully.

"She was cremated a little over five years ago," she replied quietly; "When you turned eleven she came, talked to us, wrote letters for you; she got really sick very quickly. It happens like that sometimes."

Martin nodded, "I just wondered if there was anything left. Anywhere I could go to..."

"To see her," his mum finished.

She was a doctor; she understood the vacuum that could be left when someone died.

"Yea," Martin answered.

"I'm sorry," she said.

"Reading her letters, looking at her photos," Martin paused; "I can nearly picture her as a person. But I'll never be able to ask her... anything. There is someone though. Someone I've not asked about. I still don't know anything about my dad," Martin said. He said it like he was clinging to hope; "Do you know anything?"

His mum shrugged noncommittally.

"Laura never really talked about him and I did ask... every time I met her, I asked. She married a nice man, but he's not your dad. To be honest... she seemed embarrassed. I don't think she knew what happened to your father. He went away and that was all she wanted to say," his mum said.

A disquiet followed.

There was something else, which his mum chose to add before Martin had a chance to prompt her; "She said it wouldn't be fair."

"What wouldn't?" Martin asked.

"To say more about your dad, the man she had sex with. The boy, she told me they were barely teens and stupid and she couldn't say more about him because it wouldn't be fair."

"She never told him about me, did she?" Martin asked.

"I don't know," his mum answered in a voice that sounded more like; "I don't think so."

"But, Martin," she added gently; "Sometimes we have to live with holes in our lives, you learn to accept them."

Martin wanted to say it wasn't fair that he'd never know either of the people that brought him into this world, but he couldn't. It would be an insult to the mum and dad who had raised and loved him. All he had of his biological mum was some photos and letters and a blank space that would never be filled.

He might never know his biological parents but, Martin thought, maybe that was the point; he didn't need the people who hadn't a part of his life to be happy. Maybe what he had missed from being raised by them could be found some-where, some-when and with some-one else. The mum sitting with him now and the dad who was downstairs, his boyfriend, his friends at school. The holes in his life would never be filled but he could endure what was missing and build his life over the holes that had always been there... and always would be.

When Martin roused from sleep on Saturday morning it was without his handsome boyfriend beside him. Just a lonely bed in a cool house and a cold morning waiting for him outside; the breath of ice kissed him as he stepped out into a misty winter morning.

Martin had been given Christmas-motif clothing to wear since December started: underwear, socks, and vest. He was given a cardigan along with a shirt was still deep red and the trousers still generic black; but he wore a flashing Santa badge beside his name badge and a tinsel-adorned belt.

By `flashing Santa' one means it lights up with bright lights, not that there's a naked Santa on his torso – just to clarify.

Marin knew something was up when he arrived for work – it was in the air. It was warm inside, Martin was glad of that, so the inhospitable cold was banished to distant memory by the time the Pothos Emporium opened its doors. It had been a quiet morning but it came as no surprise when Graham approached to have a chat.

"You know, Martin, I've been thinking."

"Yes, boss?" Martin replied.

"I was hoping to raise some money for charity today," he said. "I was thinking we would auction something..."

"That sounds like a great idea," Martin was saying as Graham interrupted.

"Like your clothes."

Well, it had been four weeks since he had been naked and erect in the shop window, Martin had been given a longer reprieve from total nudity than he had anticipated. He was getting rather used to being naked; anesthetised against the fear of it. Martin had never thought much about the consequences of his antics – if he had he would have seen his turn as the tailors dummy as a prelude to wanking in the shop front.

Martin was ushered to the middle of the store where the patrons soon gathered to see what was going to happen. The way they looked at Martin; they all knew something good was coming.

Without ceremony Graham explained his intentions, "All proceeds will be given to Stonewall, acceptance without exception."

Everyone seemed happy with getting the chance to take an item of Martin's clothes away, oh and the charity thing. Bidding started at the original cost of the item so the £28 cardigan sold for £62. The man who bought it was in his forties and Martin sensed he was more concerned with the good cause; still, he earned a front row view of the ongoing proceedings.

The trousers and the shirt fetched £190 from separate bids; but it was a happy couple who together owned the items. They seemed to enjoy feeling the heat of Martin's skin still on the clothes as they took them away. The more dominant of the two men took a deep whiff of the shirt, intoxicated my Martin's 1 Million scent.

The vest was surprisingly popular; it was a rather cute elf themed item. It was green and red with the print of a black belt and gold buckle around the midriff. Bids started at £7 and finished at £38; "bargain," said the winner who stage whispered his intention to use it as a cum rag.

The only things Martin wore that were in fact his own was his trainers, which meant the remaining items – his underwear and socks – were the last items under the hammer.

There was some negotiation to be had when bids for the stripy elf socks started at £6. One bidder pointed out the item on sale in the store was two pairs for that price; Graham agreed to offset the loss by allowing the winner to take the item off of the lovely Martin for himself. When a pair of socks sell for £45, in Martin's opinion, there is something wrong with the world.

The winning bidder a nice looking lad in his twenties (and probably couldn't afford to buy granny anything now). He stepped forward and couched down to peel the socks from Martin's feet; the young man took the opportunity to stroke Martin's legs while he was there and took considerably longer to take off two socks than was reasonable.

So now Martin was reduced to slipping his trainers back on and standing in the middle of the shop in just his novelty underpants. They were Santa boxers: red with fuzzy white piping – entirely unexceptional. Certainly not worth £104 but then the winner was also allowed to remove them and Martin's testicles had made direct sweaty boy-cock contact with them so...

Martin had not recognised the face in the cowed but the young man who came forward was familiar. The name came back to him as the lad looked into Martin's eyes; Danny was the young man who had been in the Pothos Emporium the day of his display. The fit guy in painting overalls who had sweet brown eyes and big arms and...

Danny pulled the boxers down until Martin's penis popped out; then he knelt down so his face was at eye level with the dangling meat. The boxers fell to Martin's ankles and he obligingly stepped out.

Martin was naked in the store. Again.

There were hoots of approval from the audience who all dug deep into their pockets to make additional donations. Martin's clothes had somehow fetched £439; the money brought forward by the spectators would add hundreds more. In his own way Martin was making a contribution to the supporting the LGBTQ and all it cost him was every piece of clothing he had been wearing.

"Martin, let's get you into my office. I'd like you to help me interview someone," Graham said.

Martin dutifully obliged, quite forgetting he was still naked as he left the shop floor; many enjoyed the sight of Martin's naked back as it retreated, his nice arse and his strong legs. Most people would conceal their genitalia if they were publically exposed but Martin quite forgot himself, his brain not wired to recognise his vulnerability.

Through the staff door and into the back corridor (so to speak), Graham led the way to his office. When Martin found Sean waiting for them, he was taken by surprise.

"Sean, you were right on time," said Graham. He turned back to Martin; "I believe you two have met?"

Sean could not take his eyes off of Martin penis, but he tried.

"Martin, would you close the door please?" Graham asked.

Martin dutifully obliged, turning to show off his beautiful bottom to Graham and Sean, who caught each other's eye as Martin turned back.

"Sean is keen to join the team here and I'm delighted with the idea of having another member of staff who is sufficiently open minded," and by that Graham meant daft enough, "to demonstrate how physique can sell."

Sex sells.

"Oh, right," Martin responded lamely.

Sean didn't say anything – he had committed himself to insinuating himself into Martin's life and was, it seems, going to be tested as to how far he would go.

"Sean, would you take off your clothes? Let's see how you boys compare and contrast," Graham said.

Graham, Martin thought, seemed excited to see more of Sean. There was a time when his innate trust in people would have skimmed over such fine detail but he had grown very slightly more savvy over the past weeks and months.

Sean had already pulled off his hoodie and was slipping off his t-shirt, lifting his arms to expose his tight chest and underarms, his limber biceps quite muscled from years of swimming but not bulging-muscle muscular, but then Sean was only seventeen.

Sean kicked off his trainers, his feet bearing no socks, and then he reached for his jeans. Martin tried to recall a time when he might have been so unceremonious about getting naked in front of people. Sean unbuttoned the denim and pulled the zip open; his boxers were already tenting inside but he pushed them down and there was no concealing the excitement in his remaining piece of clothing.

"You can take off everything," Graham said. "Go ahead."

Sean didn't need much prompting – he pushed down the boxer and stepped out of them, dropping it onto the top of his pile of clothes. His penis was not quite hard but Martin was compelled to look at it and think about it in a way he never had before. Sure, Martin had perved on him in the shower and he'd had a peek at all the boy's talent when they'd been wanking over Mitchell McMann. But had Martin ever noticed how Sean's dick was circumcised, how it curved up and, just slightly, to the left? Had Martin ever guessed its length – over six inches, less than six and a half?

With trimmed pubes it was hard – difficult, that is – to tell.

It was strange to be checking Sean out like this; they were friends now, was it cool to look at a friend's erection? And Martin had a boyfriend, a stab of guilt hit him as it always did when he did things like this, or like stripping naked in front of other people – he felt unfaithful.

"Would you stand beside Martin, please?" asked Graham.

It took two steps to reach Martin's side – six and a quarter inches away as the cock measures. Sean turned so they stood hip to hip facing Graham.

"You two look beautiful together," Graham complemented.

Sean smiled while Martin blushed.

"Can you put your arm around him?" Graham asked, though how this was directed to was unclear.

Sean and Martin looked at each other and, standing so close, Martin felt something stir. Sean was a good looking lad – attractive, hot even – Martin put his across Sean's back and slid his hand onto Sean's shoulder. Sean was still hard, but his cock waning just a little, the initial excitement abating.

"I've got a great idea," Graham said.

He stepped from behind his desk and crossed the room, moving behind the boys, brushing past them in the close quarters of the small office.

Martin could feel Sean's hot skin, smooth and tingling with excitement. Was that not also how he felt when he got naked and the adrenaline started to pump. Graham dug around in a box and came out with two pairs of...

"Novelty gloves," Graham declared. "Sales have been good but we're going to have so many unit's left at the end of Christmas I don't know what to do with them."

Clearly he knew exactly what he was going to do with them.

"Put a pair on each. Here you go," Graham said.

He handed Martin a pair of Santa-style wool gloves; red with white trimmings. Sean was given fingerless snowman gloves. While they pulled them on, Graham grabbed a camera.

"I'd have loved to get you boys in the Foto Shop studio," Graham said.

Sean lifted his eyebrows at that comment, thinking; I just be you would.

"Unfortunately Alec is photographing a wedding today but we'll just have to make do," Graham finished.

Graham grinned at them and snapped an uncensored photo of them both naked and uncovered wearing only winter gloves; too late, they covered their penises.

"Actually, I thought it would be fun if you covered each other's penis," Graham said.

Martin was stunned.

Sean was delighted.

Martin's hands cupped a sizable organ; Sean's cock expanding to push into Martin's palm. Sean meanwhile experienced similar containment problems and Martin wasn't even hard. Sean's fingertips poked out of the fingerless gloves and made contact with bare skin. Martin struggled not to get hard.

Then Graham started taking pictures.

The shots were close; taking in the gloves, this groins, thighs, up to the belly buttons – a full on crotch-shot. Graham spent as long as could be justified taking the pictures before stopping and loading them up for the boys to see. They were actually pretty good; if these gloves didn't sell now the pictures would. Actually, Graham had the idea to sell the picture as a postcard sized freebie with every pair of gloves.

Brilliant.

Sean hadn't intended to sign up for naked pictures of him turning up but he was surprisingly cool with it now that it was happening. After all his face was not in the photo. He was starting to get why Martin like this stuff so much.

"These are so great," Graham enthused and he wasn't lying, he really was delighted. "Why don't I get you something to wear, Martin? I'll go get the printer going while I'm at it. Back soon."

Graham shot off but not without one last look at the naked teens – there could be more opportunities to look at them, he was sure to see to that.

"So..." Sean said as an ice breaker.

"Yea..." Martin replied.

They both laughed after that.

Martin was starting to feel more comfortable being around Sean, even if they were naked. It was still exciting and he still felt like he shouldn't be ok with it, not given his relationship with E.J. but this felt harmless enough.

"Martin, have you ever jerked off with another guy?" Sean asked, playing feebly with his cock, trying not to make a big deal out of what he was about to propose.

"Not really," Martin replied; "I have a boyfriend."

He could kick himself for that short defensive statement.

"I know," Sean replied.

Sean knew Martin wouldn't jerk him off or suck him or fuck him, not today but that wasn't what he had in mind.

"I know. I just meant, with someone else. In the room. At the same time." Sean said, deliberately lamely.

"Oh, I guess only when we were at school," Martin admitted.

Cumming on Mitchell's face in the locker room.

"Cool," Sean said as he started to stroke himself to erection. "Well, it's fun. Everyone jerks off, right? Let's crack one off together."

Martin felt something stir as he watched Sean slowly begin to masturbate and it seemed ok to wank himself, even if someone else was watching. That wasn't disloyal to E.J. was it? So he stroked himself and the two lads sat at the edge of Graham's desk.

They were nearly touching, Sean's arm brushing gently against Martin's as he stroked. It was deliberate of course and every time he made even the faintest contact, Sean felt a flutter in his heart. Infatuation was a bad thing – but it felt awesome right now.

Martin was a lot bigger than Sean but then, Martin was a lot bigger than most boys or men. Facing the door, through the frosted glass, they could not see anyone approach so felt quite safe to continue stroking. Sean suspected there was a camera hidden in the room but only because that is what he would do if he were Graham; if he was the one who had expected naked boys in his office.

They were both getting close and quickened their pace as they raced to climax. A nice quick wank that ended with them both panting and looking at the other's load; each caught by the gloves they'd been given by Graham.

"I guess these pairs won't be selling," said Sean, wishing Martin's cock had shot in his mouth.

"Are you kidding?" Martin replied; "Give them to Graham and someone in store will buy them for a hundred quid."

They both laughed at that. It was probably true.

Nudity by lunchtime was inevitably followed by an anticlimactic encore – Martin was given his clothes back for the rest of the day. Well, shorts and a t-shirt but there was no more cock on show. He was made responsible for showing Sean the ropes for the rest of the day and the customers responded well to Sean's affable nature and good looks. Several noticed a certain chemistry between Martin and Sean, even though Martin was oblivious to it.

Martin was getting dressed to go home when his phone buzzed silently beside him to signal an incoming call. Sean had just departed, happily on his way to meet Kazuo and his brother, so Martin was alone when he answered it.

"Hi," he said.

"Hey," Martin could hear E.J. smiling at the sound of his voice; "Are you just finishing work?"

Martin's curiosity was piqued by the question; "Yea, how come?"

"I got back from Glasgow earlier than planned. Wondered if you'd like to see me tonight?" E.J. said.

Martin defiantly wanted to see him and was confident he could persuade his protective parents to let him out for a few hours – he'd give them a call.

"I'm sure I could," Martin replied; "Where do you want to meet?"

Martin had, after the revelation about their ages had been dealt with, told E.J. about his work.

A bit.

That is, where he worked but nothing else.

He hadn't quite worked out how to tell E.J. about his extracurricular performances. But he wanted to tell him and sensed the walk might be a good time to do it.

"I'll catch you outside the shopping centre," E.J. said. "You can tell me about your day. I'm nearly there anyway."

"Ok," Martin replied.

After the call ended, Martin wondered why E.J. was nearly here. He lived a forty-five minute walk away at least, or a ten minute drive but E.J. wouldn't call while driving. The mystery was resolved very quickly – his boss paid for his travel so when a taxi picked him up from the train station, he diverted it here rather than home.

"Do you mind walking me home?" E.J. asked, prompting chivalry from Martin who was all too happy to oblige.

"Sure thing," Martin said.

It was a cold December night but both were wrapped up in jackets and scarves. Their breaths misted in the air as they spoke.

"How was business?" Martin asked.

A smile crossed E.J.'s face; "Pretty good," he said noncommittally.

"Pretty good?" Martin asked.

They walked on for a bit before E.J. elaborated – he was thinking about how to say what he was about to say.

"They're opening new Symposium Athletic Clubs in Ayr and Aberdeen," E.J. said. "So all the managers and deputy managers are attending meetings. It might be that some of us will get redeployed... opportunities for promotion."

Martin looked at E.J. – there had been hesitation as he made his last remark.

"You... I mean, that- that's great. You could get promoted?" Martin asked in a wavering voice.

"Maybe,"

"But moved to Ayr. Or Aberdeen?"

"Maybe," E.J. replied.

E.J. knew fine well why Martin was reticent, a move like that could mean making things work long-distance or the end of their relationship.

"I hope not," E.J. added. "I'd like the promotion, obviously. But Aberdeen? That's dead in a ditch."

Martin half-laughed at the attempted levity but it was difficult not to think about the possibility of losing E.J. After all, they had known each other less than three months but since becoming lovers he had grown to love E.J.

Martin had never said the "L" word before. Is that what this was?

He hoped so, feeling this way about another man was quite wonderful: distracting and fulfilling and frightening but wonderful. But Martin didn't know what to say to E.J.'s "maybe" so he called home instead; his mum seemed happy enough for him to have people to spend time with.

But even while he talked to his mum, Martin was thinking about E.J. and the possibility of saying goodbye to him. Never say goodbye because goodbye means going away and going away means forgetting; E.J. and Martin shared a love of the book Peter Pan, perhaps that way why those words had just come to him.

It was during the short conversation with his mum that Martin again found himself dwelling on the changes in his life that had occurred in the last few months. Most important of these was E.J. but Martin felt guilty for sharing so little about his life and work when E.J. was so open. He wanted to tell E.J. about all the things he'd gotten up to since starting at the Pothos Emporium.

"Jesus loves you."

"What?" spluttered Martin.

E.J. laughed, "Just checking you're listening."

"Sorry, I was thinking about you," Martin admitted.

"Oh, nice save," E.J. kidded.

"I was," Martin protested, "Really, I was."

"That's sweet," E.J. replied.

"What were you saying?" Martin asked.

"I wanted to warn you," E.J. said again as they headed along the main road leading into town. "I have a house guest."

"Yea, who?"

"You know Victor, my tenant who's renting a room from me? Well, his friends from university are Johnnie, Cal, Daniel and Tom. Actually, Tom's going out with your friend Connor," said E.J. as he got distracted from his central point.

"Oh, so Connor's going to be there?" Martin asked.

"Hm? Oh, no. I just thought it was interesting. Like, six degrees of separation? I take Connor and his friends swimming classes, Connor's dating Tom who is good friends with my lodger... your friends know my friends." E.J. smiled as he thought about the ways in which his life was joining up with Martin's.

"Weird," Martin said by way of contribution.

"Sorry, anyway," E.J. said, getting back on track. "Johnnie's had a bit of a falling out with his best friend Calvin. Johnnie wants more from him than Calvin wants to give... it's all very soap opera."

"That's kinda sad for Johnnie," Martin said.

"I know. He plans to go to his parents for Christmas but he's staying with me until then. Staying with Victor," E.J, amended to make it sound less solicited and then added wryly; "Victor kindly offered for Johnnie to stay in my house."

"That was very generous of your lodger," Martin laughed.

"It's fine really, Johnnie's a nice guy. A bit mopey just now though," E.J. admitted. "That was a long conversation for a short point: I have a house guest."

"That's ok," Martin replied but disappointment had crept into his voice and E.J. caught it.

"I still plan to woo you tonight," E.J. said lightly.

"That's sweet," Martin replied. "So, we can we still have sex?" he asked in singularly the most horney-teen statement he had ever made.

"Fuck yea, it's my house."

Martin was glad to hear it; he wanted to be wooed very hard.

"So what were you thinking about? What had so distracted a minute ago?" asked E.J.

The walk would take at least half an hour, forty minutes if they took their time; as good a time as any Martin to tell some stories about his working life...

Half an hour later and they were passing the park five minutes from E.J.'s home – Connor's house was on the other side. The street was lined with houses lit up with Christmas deportations; trees blinking in the windows and outdoor lights tangled around trees. Electricity bills piling up in a long winter month that was already too expensive. The park was quiet, but E.J.'s was always a quiet neighbourhood. Lamp posts lined the path that snaked its way into the park, making little pools of light with darkness in between; these halos were the only company the trees had tonight as the cold discouraged anyone from venturing outside.

Martin was nearly finished telling E.J. everything.

His dressing room disaster when his clothes had vanished and he had walked through the show in his pants; the unconventional interview that saw him loose his clothes in the corridor, eventually to be naked; the tailoring episode that started with him stripping and having measurements taken and ending with him having measurements taken; the teeny-tiny wilderness pants he'd worn in store as a Halloween costume that had been taken from him and left him with too-big wilderness man pants; the window display in which he had stripped, unknowingly while Connor and his cohorts watched but knowing that many others were watching him, and then masturbated and then licked up his own cum... Martin was about to mention the locker room cum shot all over another naked boy and the sex education debacle that saw him naked in school, masturbating before his peers and running around the school wearing nothing – but E.J.'s head looked like it might explode so he stopped.

Martin was glad that E.J. took it so well, more tuned on than off at the idea other men were looking at his boyfriend. E.J. rationalised that Martin was hot – so of course men were always looking at him; with those antics, no wonder they looked so much!

"Your school friends saw you naked and stroking off in the shop window... no wonder they wanted to be your friend," E.J. joked.

"I'm a fun guy to be around," Martin replied.

E.J. laughed and glanced at his younger lover and saw the boy in him for a moment – he had the eyes of a young soul.

"Maybe we should have some fun when we get inside?"

"Only maybe?" asked Martin.

E.J. had spent years living alone in the house that had belonged to his mother. Since Victor moved in he had gotten used to more people being in and about it but it still felt strange sometimes. As he walked down the driveway with Martin, the lights on the Christmas tree spilled out of the living room window and flooding the small front garden with white light. Opening the front door, he knew the living room was occupied even before he entered it. Sure enough Johnnie and Victor were sat on the arm chairs while Connor, Tom and Daniel were seated in the sofa.

"Hi," said Connor, tipping his head to peer around E.J. as spotted Martin enter behind him.

So to speak.

"Hello, Connor."

And so it came to be that E.J. and Martin settled into an hour of chit-chat with the houseguests. Martin felt initially uncomfortable seeing Connor outside of school – socialising with him in a way he never had before but he felt more at ease with every passing remark. Connor was really rather keen to double date and Tom was a charming, funny and clever – winning Martin over with ease.

Time was getting on and Martin was eager to go to E.J.'s bedroom, but it would feel weird if Connor was still in the house, luckily he and Tom had similar aspirations and so took their leave another half an hour later.

It was as they were leaving that Calvin arrived.

Everyone made their excuses to leave when Victor showed Cal into the sitting room. Everyone except Johnnie who, even if he tried, would not have been allowed to go.

"When you're finished," said E.J. as he left the room; "put out the light."

And then put out the light.

The words came to Johnnie from an English class from some time ago. Othello, act five scene two – right before the death (the murder) of Desdomona.

Put out the light, and then put out the light.

He hoped the extinguishing of illumination would not follow the death of a friendship.

"I think it's time you guys talked," said Victor.

"Why?" Johnnie asked like a sulky teenager.

"Well, `cause you're driving me crazy, Johnnie. That's why," replied Victor. "You guys are friends. Whatever's going on you should sort it out. You have things to say to each other, don't you? Well, don't you?"

"Yea," said Johnnie, sinking back into his seat.

"Yes," agreed Calvin.

Victor left the room.

Calvin was left standing and it made him feel like he was looking down on his friend so he found a seat and plopped himself into it. It was hard for him – his best friend had sprung affections on him that he had never even thought about and it made him feel lousy that not returning those feelings had so badly hurt Johnnie. It made him feel worse that while his friend had moved across town to sulk about it, Calvin's feelings had not changed.

Calvin loved Johnnie. As a friend. That was not what Johnnie would want to hear.

Johnnie had hoped the time away from Calvin would have helped him. He thought it would put things in perspective, the pining and the desire would end and they would be ok again. Then Cal walked into the room and Johnnie remembered what he wanted and how much it hurt that Cal didn't want it too.

Is this how a friendship ends?

Maybe it would be easy.

"So, how've you been?" Calvin asked.

"Ok."

I was not going to be easy.

"You ran away," said Calvin in a neutral voice.

"I was scared," Johnnie replied.

Never run when you're scared.

Calvin nodded; "I know."

Johnnie shook his head, slowly – just a little.

"What? What's so funny?" Calvin asked.

"Funny? Do you hear me laughing?" Johnnie replied.

Something charged entered the room.

"Not on the outside. But I know you, beneath that serious look on your face you're laughing at what I said. What is about `I know' that amused you so much?"

"What the fuck do you know?" Johnnie snapped back with bellicose venom.

The hostility took Calvin by surprise. He had expected this to be hard though so he took the hit and remained calm. It hurt him, but he stayed calm.

Calvin's calm infuriated Johnnie. He didn't want a fight but he knew he was being a total dick and he wanted Cal to fight back... to make him feel less like a total dick.

"You wanted me to... feel the same way. And I'm sorry I didn't, that I don't," Calvin clarified. "I'm sorry. But I do know... I do know."

"You know? What, that I ran away because I was... hurt and offended and rejected and... Humiliated?" Johnnie said.

It was rhetorical – which is why Calvin probably shouldn't have replied but did.

"Yes,"

"Fuck off."

"Johnnie, don't take this out on me," Cal bit back. "It's not my fault. We've only ever been friends; we fucked around and we fooled around but we were never a couple. We were never a you-and-me."

"I know," Johnnie said facetiously.

Calvin clenched his jaw and then stayed calm.

Johnnie took a deep breath.

"I'm sorry," said Johnnie.

This, as much as Johnnie's hostility, took Cal by surprise.

"I'm sorry for the way I feel," Calvin noticed the present tense; "And I'm sorry I told you. And I'm sorry I ran away."

"Please don't be sorry," Calvin replied in a quiet voice.

"I hate this you know," Johnnie said.

His eyes were swimming with tears now. Calvin wanted to go to Johnnie but he knew it was the wrong move. He knew not going to Johnnie was the wrong move too.

"I hate that this got so hard," Johnnie continued; "And that you can hurt me so much."

The catch in Johnnie voice nearly killed Calvin. Guilt. He watched a track of tears spill over Johnnie's cheeks.

"I never meant to hurt you," Calvin replied, his voice still quiet, meek. Guilt.

Johnnie sniffed and wiped his face with his sleeve; "That's what makes it worse. I'm so pathetic, you can hurt me without even trying."

It really stung Calvin to hear his best friend say that – to feel so hurt and be so angry and it was his fault. Calvin thought about hurt and how most people want hurt their enemies or the people they don't like. But it's your friends you should worry about; they people who care about you and know you – who know your secrets. How easy it is for someone who knows you to destroy you. You can really hurt a friend if you want to.

Calvin hadn't wanted to, hadn't meant to, but he had hurt Johnnie badly. Now Cal too had tears because his friendship with Johnnie meant everything to him and being unable to deliver what Johnnie wanted from him threatened to ruin everything.

"You're not pathetic. I never said you were," Cal replied.

"You don't want me. Never even crossed your mind," Johnnie had said this before. "Someone else. Anyone else. But not me."

"You're my friend," Calvin replied.

"I thought I was more than that."

Calvin had been there through everything. When they met at primary school and realised they liked boys more than most boys like boys; when Johnnie's brother was sick, when his brother came home and died a week later; when Johnnie had an aneurysm; when they had sex for the first time, losing their virginity to each other; when they decided to go to university. Everything.

Johnnie was thinking about the same everything but he was also thinking about how long he had kept the secret about his feelings; about his having second thoughts about university... about the headaches coming back.

"Isn't being the friend I love more than anyone else enough?" asked Calvin.

He hoped the answer would repair the broken bridge.

"No."

Johnnie napalmed the bridge.

"Sorry."

One quiet whimpered little word; one of them said it, both of them perhaps but defiantly one of them. But that was the end of the conversation.

Is this how a friendship ends?

With a whimper?

Johnnie had sat down now, faintly breathless from the exchange perhaps.

"You're rubbing your head again," Cal commented with cautious concern.

Cautious because he was afraid his overture would be rejected. Again.

"Forget it," Johnnie said miserably; "It's nothing."

Calvin acknowledged he had crappy timing when it came to asking about this; he had asked during their last fight too. But he wanted to know. He could see pain stretched across Johnnie's face, a pain he hadn't seen for more than seven years.

"Johnnie..." Cal began to say but was unsure whether to push the question when their friendship as already precarious. "Please tell me what's wrong. What aren't you telling me?"

Johnnie wanted to answer – his expression was that of an animal caught in headlights. In the end he couldn't answer and didn't think he could have even if he'd been on good terms with Cal.

"It's nothing," Johnnie repeated.

Calvin stood in defeated silence.

Johnnie still felt irrationally angry at Cal for not wanting him. He wanted to just get over it but it hurt badly, offended him; the rejection turning their long friendship stale.

"Ok," Cal replied as he stood up to leave. "Well, if you need me just call. My phone's always on."

"I won't need you," Johnnie said bitterly.

Cal's eyes teared until his vision blurred. He turned the light off on his way out.

E.J. tried not to think about the heart to heart that Johnnie and Calvin were about to have in his living room; he just hoped the conversation wouldn't come to tears or blows.

Blows as in punches.

"You know," said E.J. as he closed the bedroom door; "There was a common theme in all your stories."

Martin took a moment to work out what E.J. meant. The stories – Martin's Tales of Exposure, the working title of his memoirs.

"What's that?" he asked.

"People tell you what to do," E.J. answered.

"I suppose."

"Stand there," E.J. instructed. "I'm going to take off your clothes and you're going to let me."

Martin giggled slightly at the most polite dom ever. Martin stood at the foot of the double bed and E.J. came forward, stooping to lift the bottom of Martin's jeans and pull his socks to his heel.

"Lift," E.J. said.

Martin lifted his foot and E.J. removed the socks. He stood up and came eye to eye with his younger lover – green eyes reflected in green eyes. E.J. grabbed the bottom of Martin's shirt and lifted it up and over his head. While Martin's face was covered by the garment, E.J. leaned in and licked a nipple. Martin giggled and squirmed.

"Shhh!" admonished E.J. with a faux po-faced expression.

E.J. pulled open Martin's jeans and yanked them down to his knees, Martin looked shocked but his expression was soon hidden as E.J. pulled Martin's t-shirt up, hiding his face. The bemused expression re-emerged as the t-shirt was tossed aside. Martin's jeans were very soon at his ankles and in short order became discarded.

Martin's briefs were starting to expand. E.J. enjoyed the sight of the big cock trying to grow in the confines of the neat black briefs. He stood back to get a good look. Martin flushed a little under E.J.'s gaze – even in the privacy of E.J.'s bedroom he was aware of being on display; the fact E.J. was still fully clothed didn't help.

"Take it out then," suggested E.J. helpfully.

"Don't you want to take something off first?" asked Martin.

"Nah, I'm enjoying the view."

Martin pulled down the front of his briefs and his big dick flopped out. A few tugs later and the eight-inch-plus penis was fully hard. E.J. was quiet as he watched Martin begin to masturbate and he exaggerated his gaze to emphasise Martin's nudity.

E.J. could see a mixture of thoughts and emotions on Martin's face: his lover seemed delighted by the attention and humbled by his nudity before a fully clothed man. Martin was sexually excited and yet seemed vulnerable, exposed, on display.

"Maybe you'd like me to turn on my webcam?" offered E.J.

Martin looked shocked and took a minute to realise E.J. was joking. It was tempting though – for both of them. For E.J. to capture his lover and immortalise his naked beauty and sexuality and for Martin to be caught forever in the eye of the camera.

E.J. was enjoying watching Martin stroke himself but eventually he relented that he was perhaps being mean and decided to make up for it. Besides, he didn't just want to watch. The advantage to having a gorgeous boyfriend on display was audience participation.

E.J. moved around back while Martin carefully continued to stroke himself. Everything looked clean as E.J. parted Martin's cheeks and then pressed his lips and tongue against Martin's exposed hole. Martin gasped with the sensation of E.J.'s tongue licked and probing the sensitive area and slaking it saliva. E.J.'s tongue threatened to cramp as it pressed and prodded the sphincter of Martin's arse; only when this happened did E.J. stop and replace his tongue with an index finger.

Martin was starting to quiver with excitement, he loved having sex with E.J. who always found ways to make Martin feel sensations he had never had before – as much a testament to E.J.'s skill as to Martin's inexperience.

"Let's go to the bed," E.J. said.

Martin turned to face E.J. who gripped the proffered penis and tugged him towards the bed, with a swift movement, E.J. turned Martin and pushed him onto the bed before dropping to his knees and taking the cock in his mouth.

Martin gasped as the foreskin was eased back with the tightness of E.J.'s lips – licking and slurping making the head shiny and precum making E.J.'s mouth a cornucopia of salty-sweet flavours. E.J. took Martin's penis as deep as he could manage, bobbing his head up and down. When he came up for air, E.J. would lick the head of Martin's cock like an ice cream melting in the sun and almost as messy. Martin wasn't ready to cum yet so his hands found E.J.'s face and brought it off his penis so they were eye to eye and then Martin leaned over and they kissed with enthusiasm.

Martin's finally began to strip E.J., pulling at his clothes; tugging, unzipping, unbuttoning and removing everything. When they were both finally naked, the two men embraced. Their cock's and balls pressed hard against each other, heaving chest meeting, tongues playfully battling for space in the other's mouth.

Soon they found the bed and soon E.J. was rubbered up and ready to penetrate.

Martin liked this bit.

It occurred to him he had never been on top – the one pushing in and feeling the tightness around his cock as the fucking began, but he hadn't felt read yet. He was sure he wanted to but being the bottom had already brought so many sensations and magnificent orgasms, it seemed fool-hardy to not practice many times as possible before trying another new skill.

Maybe next year.

E.J. pushed his cock into Martin's anus as he held onto his ankles and caressed his beautiful legs. Martin enjoyed feeling his legs being stroked while his prostate was assaulted and his anus invaded. It was almost too much to take. Martin's cock was still rock hard although it hadn't been touched for several minutes; he was afraid to even just touch it in case he set it off.

Martin and E.J. had tried many positions and had sex, made love and fucked! This was somewhere in between, perhaps pushing too deep too hard to call it `making love' but too soft for a proper fuck. E.J.'s featherlite condom was silky and wonderful for both his penis and Martin's sphincter. Martin was breathing heavily now and E.J. was hot and clammy from excretion.

Martin lay on his back with his legs in the air and E.J. was knelt on his bed as he plunged his dick as deep as he could. He was going faster now and Martin finally took hold of his cock and started to stroke it with careful rubs.

E.J. felt his cock erupt with hot cum that filled the condom and surrounded his dick with sticky ejaculate. He kept on pushing and pulling to see Martin over the edge.

As Martin got close he felt E.J. cum and it was all the more erotic for him to know it had been good for him too. Martin was so close. He wondered what it would be like to have sex without a condom: bareback. That thought tipped him over the edge – the thought of E.J.'s naked cock inside him and of cum oozing out of his arse after the deed.

As Martin started to cum, E.J. helpfully tilted his legs back so his cock fired all over his chest and face. E.J. licked some of it up and then kissed Martin who was too tired to resist and even if he had not been tired, he would not have resisted.

E.J. retrieved a conveniently placed towel that he could reach without even getting out of bed and wiped some of the worst blobs of cum off of Martin; they could shower properly in the morning.

E.J. had great memoires of post-coital tenderness: kissing and cuddling. He stoked Martin's soft teenage skin and chided himself for the thought.

"You're beautiful," E.J. found himself saying.

"You're hot," Martin replied with sincerity; "The most attractive man I've ever seen."

"Aside from the one you see in the mirror," E.J. suggested and they both smiled.

E.J. looked over Martin's naked body and thought about his self at that age – it seemed like a long time ago. Perhaps he still looked the same but he didn't feel it. He was about to comment that Martin could find a younger man when Martin kissed him and returned the tender caresses: his arms, pecs, hips.

"I wish I could take you to school with me," Martin said.

"Are you trying to get me arrested?"

Martin laughed, "I bet I could pass you off as an exchange student," Martin suggested earnestly.

"Only if your exchange students come from the year two-thousand and two," E.J. quipped.

Martin laughed.

Ok, the idea of taking E.J. to school wouldn't work but it gave E.J.an idea for something they could try another time. As the saying goes: if the mountain won't come to Mohammad...

Several hours later, they were still awake and in a tender embrace. Both had come down from their orgasmic highs but both felt just as euphoric with satisfaction, adoration and affection.

E.J. held Martin close, skin to skin and he felt the words fall naturally and unbidden from his mouth; "You know I love you, don't you?"

Martin didn't respond right away – he didn't know what to say. But hadn't he thought the same thing just a few hours ago?

"I love you as well," Martin replied softly.

They lay together in the quiet.

"Wouldn't it be nice if we could be together in our dreams?" asked Martin.

"When I was a young boy living in this house, I used to have a recurring nightmare," said E.J. "I was naked in the park down the road and had to run home all the way without being seen."

Martin smiled in the dark, E.J. could feel him smiling; given Martin's activities, it didn't sound much like a nightmare.

"That doesn't sound too bad," Martin replied; "It sounds like a very nice... mare."

Now E.J. smiled; "A nicemare before Christmas."

The words rolled around the room, circling the dark until sleep took them.

It was not the night before Christmas but all through the house not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.

Thump.

The noise was dull through the walls and doors separating E.J. and Martin from the room downstairs. Dull, but the kind of disturbance that immediately makes one alert. They pulled on clothes and eased the bedroom door open. Martin was stood close to E.J.'s back and could smell the stale sweat on his shoulder.

As E.J. looked towards the landing at the top of the stairs he saw a dark shadow tower over the banister. Victor turned, his face invisible in the night; E.J. knew Victor had been woken by the same noise. They both realised in the same instant that there had been no other noises; if it was a careless burglar they were now as silent as a night before Christmas.

It felt wrong.

The men in the house had assumed a danger lurking downstairs when the noise had first woken them. But now they weren't so sure. Cautiously, they ventured downstairs.

Johnnie felt like shit.

After Calvin had left, he sat in the dark, unable to even try to sleep; he felt the most important friendship of his life was strewn around him like wreckage. He hoped the ruin could be put back together but it seemed impossible.

Johnnie felt like shit.

His head hurt. His face turned numb. His concentration... Pain throbbed above his eye. His vision bloomed with light that had not come from the room. He had been here before; when he was a boy and nearly died when his brain exploded from a cerebral aneurysm.

Johnnie felt like shit.

Fear gripped him now and he stood, somehow he stood up. His hand held his phone and his fingers demanded action from it without any conscious thought. Somehow they responded...

"Johnnie?" asked Calvin through the speaker; he sounded sleepy although not woken from sleep.

"C-Cal. Hel- help me." Johnnie's voice escaped in a pained and breathless mumble from his numb face and addled mind.

"Johnnie?" Calvin asked, his voice now filled with urgency.

"I don't feel so good."

Johnnie fell to the floor.

Thump.

Put out the light,

and then put out the light.

Dun dun dun! It goes without saying this story is To Be Continued...

The Embarrassment of Riches will resume in January 2017.

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Merry Christmas, Happy holidays, best wishes for 2017.