The Mugging

The Mugging

The Mugging

[Note: This is a re-release and update of a story I published on Nifty a few years ago. My writing skills have improved over time, and I like more heart (than sex) in stories. I hope you like this. Feedback welcome at StoryTellerPA at yahoo dot com__.]

“Jesus, what’s going on?”

I hit the brakes hard and the rear end of my car fishtailed a bit. The horn sounded on the car behind me, loudly and with great irritation. I was driving along the outer edge of town, about to cross a bridge, when I saw a young guy trying to fight off an older guy. The attacker threw the kid to the ground. He was yanking at the kid’s pocket and pounding his face. The driver behind me apparently did not see this. He gave me the finger as he pulled around me and sped off. I jumped out of my car, leaving the driver side door open, parked at a right angle against the curb. I ran over to the fight going on, not really knowing what I was getting myself into, nor caring. The kid was obviously being attacked by the older man. I had not been jaded enough to ignore this and drive on.

I kicked at the attacker several times, got him off the kid, and managed to knock him down. He jumped up and slammed his fist at me, hitting my neck instead of my face. Air rushed from my throat. I kicked him in his thigh, missing his crotch by only a little. I kicked again, making solid contact. He dropped to his knees, grabbing his balls. When I turned my back, he came rushing at me, knocking me down. I rolled over and dodged him. He fell beside me, mad as hell. He tried once more to hit me. I kicked him in the head. The asshole was going to have a hell of a headache shortly. I kicked him again to make it worse. He moaned and then lay still.

I grabbed the kid quickly and pushed him toward my car. I yanked open the passenger door and pushed him into the inside. The whole scene had taken only a couple of minutes. The kid was stunned. The guy on the ground managed several obscene gestures as I ran around to the driver’s side. I squealed my tires as I pulled away.

A few minutes later, I pulled off the road again. I put the car in park. The young guy, about 19 or 20, was bleeding from his nose and mouth. He trembled steadily. He did not look at me.

“There are some napkins in the glove box.”

I reached for one, wet it quickly with my tongue, and started to wipe at the young man’s wounds.

“Ouch! Damn it!” He flinched and pushed my hand away.

“I know, I know. Sorry. I’m going to take you home with me to get you cleaned up. Then we’ll see if you need any medical attention.”

“I really don’t want to ...”

I wiped tentatively at his face again. He closed his eyes and moved his head away. I held his head and wiped up more blood.

“I didn’t ask you if you wanted to. I know you don’t. However, there nothing else I feel right about doing. Lemme help you anyway.”

Despite several minor protests, I drove toward home. Where else was I going to take him? What would he possibly do alone?

I suddenly realized why he looked familiar. I had seen this kid most every morning when I drove to work, walking across the bridge to downtown. He had caught my attention long ago. I hate to generalize but typically guys his age were not so faithful to get to work. I cannot remember a morning since the beginning of the new year that I had not seen him around 8:20, give or take. I am a creature of habit, so I tend to notice other’s habits.

“Bastard got my wallet. That’s what he was after in the first place.”

He coughed, kind of deep, bronchial sounding.

I reached into my jacket pocket and handed his wallet back to him.

“Sorry. In the rush I forgot I managed to get it back.”

He looked at me in disbelief.

“Thanks.”

He looked me over closely, deciding whether or not I was really going to help him. He finally decided that I was, whether he wanted me to or not.

“My name’s Nicholas. Nick.”

“I’m Eric. You’re still shaking.” I put my hand on his shoulder. “What happened back there?”

“He came out of nowhere and jumped me. He wanted money but I told him to leave me alone. I have $10, if that, in my wallet.”

“I’m glad I was driving by when I did.”

“He …”

He coughed for a moment. He sounded raspy. I looked at him. He trembled. I felt sorry for him. I didn’t say anything, so that he would.

“He would have left me for dead if you hadn’t come along. Jesus, he scared me.”

“I know he did. I was mugged in New York City a few years back. Two guys beat up my best friend and me and left us for dead. We were in the hospital for four days afterward. I’ve got a knife scar across my shoulder as a reminder.”

He shook his head in sadness. “What the hell is the world all about? I can’t even walk home from work and feel safe.”

“The world’s a little nuts. But we’re not all bad, Nick. Some of us care, which is why you’re sitting here and not on the street.”

I put my car in gear again, waited for two cars to go by, and pulled onto the road. My place was ten minutes from here. Shortly thereafter, we pulled into my driveway.

“Come on, Nick. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

He was still reluctant. Who could blame him? I brought him into my upstairs apartment.

“Come on. The bathroom is this way.”

He hesitated, standing in the living room. But you have to trust someone. The whole world is not a terrible place. I held out my hand, coaching him into the bathroom. He continued to cough, out of breath.

I took a fresh washcloth and hand towel out of the linen closet. Once I wet the washcloth and soaped it up, I wiped tentatively at his face. He flinched a few times, holding his hands up, so I tried to be easier. I held his head gently in my left hand, carefully washing the blood and dirt from his wounds. His eyes were deep blue, and his face was incredibly handsome.

“You’re going to have one doozy of a black eye in a while. It’s pretty swollen already. Your lip might swell more too. Looks like your nosebleed stopped, though.”

I re-wet and re-soaped the washcloth and finished cleaning him up. His face took on innocence again, as I was used to seeing each morning.

“Any pain in your chest or back?”

“Yeah, some. It hurts to breathe a little. I’ll be okay in a while.”

“Is your chest tight?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re asthmatic.” It was not a question.

“How’d you know?”

“I know that cough. Here, I have a fresh inhaler. It’s prescription Serevent.”

“Same one I have in my backpack, in your car.”

He exhaled as best he could, sucked in air while putting the inhaler to his lips, pressed the capsule, and then breathed in deeply. He coughed a bit more.

“Wait a couple minutes. Two puffs will help you out.”

We waited. He took another puff, a little easier this time.

“Come on out to the living room. You can sit awhile.”

We walked out and he sat on the sofa. I went into the kitchen to get us something to drink. “I got soft drink, beer, juice, water?”

“Soft drink is fine.”

I handed him a Pepsi in a glass of ice. I sat in the rocking chair across the living room, not wanting to crowd him. He had been invaded enough today.

“How old were you when you got mugged?”

“Twenty-four. I was living in Connecticut at the time and working in the city. My buddy was doing a course of chemotherapy at a hospital in NY. We got mugged outside it.”

“After a treatment? Shit!”

“Yeah. I don’t think I’ll ever look at a big city in the same way. Always have to watch out for something. Not like when I was a kid growing up. A couple years later, and I’m still leery about walking anywhere alone.”

“I’m 22. I’m not used to watching my back. But it sure got me.”

He shook his head. Then he broke down. He sobbed hard. I stood, hesitated, walked over to him, knelt down, and offered what comfort I could.

“Come here Nick,” I said as I brought him off the sofa and into my arms.

He let me hold him.

“I’m sorry,” he said, trying to catch his breath.

“I know. No shame in tears. I cried too, after a few days when it hit me. My buddy and I helped each other then. I’m here for you to talk to, whenever you want to talk.”

He put his head on my shoulder and left his arms around me. I held him too, for a few minutes. He eventually stopped shaking. We sat on the floor together, in silence for a few minutes. He looked at me, feeling embarrassed.

“You’ll be okay. The feeling passes soon enough. It just makes you more careful.”

He nodded. I fixed us some soup and sandwiches for dinner. It was about 8:00. He seemed to enjoy the company.

“You live alone?” I asked.

“Yeah. I need affordable rent for now and I’m in part of a house. Can’t seem to save much money, and can’t afford to move either.”

There’s a one-bedroom apartment across the hall from mine. Rent’s about $500 I think, heat included. I can find out if you’d like to get out of the city proper. It’s nice out here.”

“Heat included? That would save me a small fortune. But I don’t know about getting to work. I haven’t bought a car yet.”

He told me he worked in the new office building at the end of the bridge, the one under construction. It was convenient to where he lived. It took him about 20 minutes to walk each way.

“Car pool with me. I go through downtown every day, both ways. I’ve seen you walking to work. I had have no problem giving you a ride.”

“Why? Why are you helping me out?”

“Because my folks said that I should watch out for people around me. I grew up with one set of values. When someone needs a hand, you help if you can.”

“I’m a city boy. I don’t have that mentality, even though everyone probably should.”

“So become a country boy out here with a friend. I had like showing you around here. You might like it.”

We talked and did some planning. It was 10:30 pm by the time we were done.

“You wanna go home? Or …”

“Yeah, I would, but only long enough to get a duffel packed. I’m going to spend the night at my parents in West Haven, where I feel safer. I don’t want to spend the night alone.”

“Stay with me, then. I have a spare bedroom, and that’s a second bathroom that you can have to yourself. It’ll be easier to get to work from here if you go in tomorrow. If not, I’ll drive you to your folks in the morning. We can be at your place and back here in a half-hour, vs. an hour to your folks. Then you won’t have to make them come get you.”

He thought about it for a moment, then agreed.

“But you’ve already done a lot for me. I don’t ...”

“Well, maybe someday I’ll need a hand. You can help then.”

He smiled. Even with the swollen, purple/black eye and the fat lip, he was quite handsome. He felt okay around me. He did not have a reason to worry. I felt better being able to ease his mind.

We were back to my place by 11:00 after a trip across town. I showed him his room and left fresh towels out for him in the bathroom.

“I’m here, Nick, if you need anything. I’m a light sleeper, so if you need to, come wake me. I won’t mind.”

He nodded and said “Thanks, Eric. ‘Nite.”

I changed into gym shorts, brushed my teeth, and settled into bed to read. An hour later, Nick knocked on the door jam and came in. He did not have to ask. I slid over and let him slide in beside me. My bed is queen-sized, so there is room.

“Can’t sleep alone. When I close my eyes, I see that man. You must think I’m a wuss.”

He was shaking again, a tear in the corner of his eye. I wiped it gently away and held him close.

“No, man, I think you’re thinking you could be dead now. But thankfully, you’re with me instead. Close your eyes, Nick. I’m a friend from now on. Sleep, and don’t worry again.”

He slowly slipped into a troubled sleep. He was so restless. So I held him all night.

I drove him to work Friday morning and picked him up again Friday evening. I gave him my office phone number in case he changed his mind. He called me in the afternoon to tell me he was looking forward to quitting time and to me picking him up. We had agreed he needed a change of scenery from his place for a few nights. The friends he usually went out with on Friday night were out to town for the weekend. Spending a Friday night alone was not an option.

He packed some more clothes at his place and spent the weekend with me. We ordered pizza, watched a basketball game on TV, and listened to music on my CD for long hours. I found it a little amazing that a 22 year old liked most of what was in my collection, including Chicago, James Taylor, and Carly Simon, along with Kansas and Styx.

When we were getting ready for bed, I asked him if he would sleep with me again. He smiled. I had saved him from asking. We lay on our backs, two pillows each behind our heads, looking at the ceiling. We talked before we slept.

“So how come someone like you is alone?”

“I’m widowed. She died after a bout with ovarian cancer, almost a year ago. We’d known each other 14 years. I’m not ready for ... giving her up. Right now, alone is getting comfortable, and I don’t mind it.”

He was silent, sorry he had asked. He looked at me with sadness, searched my eyes, and searched my thoughts.

“Don’t sweat it. I’m okay. Time isn’t the enemy it had been. Slide over here.”

He slid over to me, putting his back against my chest. I put my arms around him. He leaned against me and I smelled his hair. In minutes, he was asleep, no longer troubled and sad.

I lay there for an hour, thinking about Sherry. A tear rolled down my face and I let it. I fell asleep with my face against Nick’s neck a while later. Holding someone again felt good. It had been too long.

Late Saturday morning we went out to use the pool for a couple of hours. I made us an omelet for lunch and then we walked around the neighborhood. He was warming up to the idea of living here, so we went to the rental office for an application and information.

The afternoon was sunny, so we spent it outside on my balcony. He had put some Fleetwood Mac and Dan Fogelburg in the CD 6-pack and turned it up a bit.

“Can I tell you something?” He was hesitant, but he also did not want to keep it to himself.

“Yeah, anything.”

“I’m gay.”

“So?”

“That’s it? So?”

“Yeah. I’ve had gay friends since college, but it’s not a big deal to me. This is the late 21st century you know.”

“Yeah, well, some don’t think so.”

“So, it’s not your problem. Does that make you a bad guy?”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe nothin’. The answer is no, it doesn’t make you a bad guy. You chose to sleep with me because you’re gay?”

“No, I chose to sleep with you because I found your comfort just what I needed. But ...”

“No buts, man. It’s not necessary. I helped you and I won’t ever regret that I did.”

“But,” he continued anyway, “I have to admit, I also loved being held. You’re really handsome, smart, and you didn’t keep driving when I was in trouble.”

“And I enjoyed holding you, because I know what’s it like to be mugged and scared. My folks taught me to care about people, so I do. No conditions, either. Nick, don’t worry so much. I don’t care if you’re gay. It’s not important.”

He looked at me. He watched my eyes. I did not flinch and I did not look away.

“Trust someone, Nick. Trust me, if no one else.”

“But ...”

“No buts. Stop doing that.”

“But, would you hold me again?”

“Yes.”

And so I did. We enjoyed each other’s company each day, and we held each other at night. When we went to bed late Saturday night, he did not sleep with his back against me. He faced me. His chest had a light fuzz and his stomach was flat. His naked crotch was warm against my naked crotch. He slept comfortably against me, in my arms, his legs intertwined in mine, not waking until mid-morning.

He moved into the apartment across the hall from mine at the first of the month. I met a few of his friends, who had helped him pack and move. I helped him unpack throughout the week. I brought some of my CDs and we played them on his bookshelf system. I went out mid-afternoon for Chinese on the second Saturday that we had known each other. We sat on my balcony and enjoyed the quiet afternoon.

We rode bicycles throughout the neighborhood after work or on weekends, or both. He spent time at the pool, walking, talking, not talking, and listening to music. We carpooled during the week and the finally stopped feeling as if he was imposing on me. I was sick with a stomach virus one day and could not go to work. I handed him my car keys, asking only that he be careful out there. He was okay with the idea, liking that someone really trusted him. I did. He was an adult; not a kid, and I treated him as such.

His friends came and went during the weekends especially. Sometimes we went out as a small group. We ate together a couple times a week. I helped him study for a class he was taking. He said I was harder on him than his instructor was. He got a B in the class, claiming to have been only an average student in high school, not really liking it. I showed him about distance education over the Internet and let him use my sign-on account for nothing. He took more classes and accumulated CEUs toward this BS degree in Civil Engineering.

We shared my bed when he wanted the comfort of a warm body next to his. I enjoyed our time together. I was falling for him, unexpectedly. But I did not fight it. He moved me.

He kissed me, the fourth Sunday morning after meeting, full on the lips. He kissed me until I woke up, waiting about a half minute between each, teasing me lightly. I held him gently in my arms, looked into his brown eyes, and kissed him back. I had not felt aroused since I had been single again, and it was different. I liked it ... a lot.

I pulled him all the way on top of me, and he rubbed his crotch into mine, both of us hard in only a few moments. He reached down between us and touched us together, rubbing and massaging. I massaged his ass, feeling the flesh, pulling him against me.

“You feel so good, Eric. You smell wonderful. I could kiss you and make love to you all day if you’d let me.”

He moved to my neck.

“I had let you.”

It was my turn to cry. I was not ashamed to. He kissed my cheeks and my eyes, wiping my tears gently aside, as I had done with him almost five weeks ago. We kissed, and he eased my tears. He held me close, stroking my body, pulling me in and letting me feel the strength he did not even know he had.

To be with this handsome boy-man, to let him touch me and kiss me was so overwhelming. We were separated in age by a mere four years. It would not have mattered if we were further apart in age. We liked the other’s company a lot. I trembled in his arms, not unlike what he had done when he was afraid. Except I was not afraid; I was ecstatic.

We lay on our sides, facing each other, kissing deeply. I held his hand, bringing it to my lips. He put his arms around me and pulled me tightly to him. I rolled him onto his back and put my trim body half way on top of him. I pulled back, looking deeply into his eyes. He smiled at me, liking to look at me as much as I did him. And he loved watching me watch him.

I kissed his throat. My tongue licked at his skin and then my lips closed around it. I slid my tongue around his ear, over his cheek, to each eye, and to the other ear. He closed his eyes and let me taste him. His hair smelled fresh. I loved the scent of his body.

He was 5’8” tall, trim, dark hair and brown-eyed. His face was manly and handsome. I touched his chest, squeezed his nipples, slid my hand over his tight stomach, and down to his soft bush of pubic hair. I moved to the underside of his balls, touching that spot that was so sensitive between his balls and his ass. I cupped his balls in my hand, massaging them gently, rolling them between my fingers. I touched his stiffness, wrapping my fist around it. I kissed him tenderly as I played with his muscle. I stroked it from the tip of his head to the base of the shaft. I rubbed it against his own skin, my palm pressing it into his flesh.

I searched from his dick, to his sweet spot, to the tight hole between his legs. I probed a moist finger into his crack, running my fingers along the length of it and then oh so gently just inside the tight ring. I took my finger out of him, licked it and added some extra spit, and put two inside him.

“Wow, no one’s ever done that before. Do you know how good that feels?”

“I can only guess. But it seems like something you’d like.”

“What I had like even better is you inside me. Will you?”

“I’ve never done it. I’m afraid to hurt you if I’m so clumsy.”

“I’ll help you. You won’t hurt me. You couldn’t, I don’t think. At least not intentionally.”

“I don’t have condoms.”

“I do, in my backpack.”

He got up for a moment and came back to the bedroom with a condom and some lube.

“You always travel prepared?”

“Yeah. I kept hoping you’d want to, you know, make out with me, so I wanted to be ready.”

I lay him on his back, straddled his hips, lubed up and rolled the condom on. I am seven inches long, not very thick. I put lube on my fingers and moistened his muscle ring. I put his legs over my shoulders one at a time, spread them a little, and entered him slowly. He tightened around me, sucking me into him. Once fully inside, I stopped to let him get used to me. He smiled up at me and I bent forward to kiss him. I licked and sucked at his leg, wrapped around my shoulder. I ran my tongue along his shin and calf, up to his ankle and back toward his knee. My mouth was full with the taste of his skin.

I settled into a slow rhythm, pulling and pushing, pushing and pulling, as he clenched around me. It felt so good. It was completely different from anything I had ever felt before. I could not help but smile as I moved inside him. It felt too good to keep this to myself.

“You’re so hot, Nick. Man, this is so amazing. You’ve done this before?”

“Yes, but never with someone who was so gentle and so good. Eric, I’m so hard. I could come right now, but I don’t want to.”

I stopped, slid all the way in, and then stayed there. He wrapped his arms around me as I lay on top of him. I did not want to cum yet if he did not. Together was better.

We kissed non-stop for long minutes. I pumped him enough to stay hard, which was not going to be tough to do anyway. He flexed his muscles around me, keeping me tightly where I was.

“Do it Eric. Make me feel good.”

I moved within him again, slowly and carefully. When either of us got too close, I backed off, letting it pass so we could enjoy it longer. It all felt so great. Nothing told me that I was doing anything wrong, in our lovemaking or the fact that two guys were making each other feel good. I do not know yet if I felt love for him, but I sure felt something.

In time, I started to come. I could not back off this time. It gripped me and made me tremble from head to toe. I kissed him as I came, and he knew I was feeling something incredible. At the same time, I felt warm liquid on my stomach. He had come with me as my stomach rubbed against him. I was curious. I leaned down to lick up his cum. It tasted a bit salty, but good, maybe a little sweet too. It was creamy. I gave him a taste. He smiled at me as he licked my finger.

I stayed on top of him, letting him hold me close while I touched his skin.

We dozed for a couple of hours as the sunshine streamed through the window.

Nothing to do today but make love if that is all we wanted to do. He did.

So did I.

Nick and I are apart 10 hours a day because of work. We are together 14 hours a day because of love. We make love almost every day. We have sex a couple of times a week. We never seem to tire of each other, and have now been friends and lovers for two years. I tell him that I love him and he says, “I love you more.” He can believe that if he wants to. As long as he thinks that, who am I to complain?

StoryTellerPA at yahoo dot com