“So the front with Tracey was just that, huh? A beard to hide what you really are. Are you ashamed of what you are?” Justin’s voice had taken on a bitter, accusatory tone. Will tucked his spent cock back into his pants and zipped them up.
He turned toward Justin and said honestly, “It wasn’t a front. I never pretended to be her boyfriend. I just went with her to a dance, is all. People just filled in the blanks. They made assumptions.”
“And you let them.”
“That’s right.” Will felt himself bristle. Who was this guy to tell him how to conduct himself? He of all people knew how hard it was to come out, even in so-called progressive New York City.
Justin flopped back on the bed and blew out his breath. He put his hands behind his head and stared at the ceiling. Will lay beside him, looking up as well. The ceiling had been painted to look like a night sky, complete with myriad constellations dotted in glow-in-the-dark silver on a midnight blue background.
“I shouldn’t be so hard on you,” Justin said, his eyes still trained on the ceiling. “I should just be grateful you came home with me. I’ve been wanting to ask you forever, but I was scared. I was pretty sure you were gay, but what if you weren’t? Or what if you just didn’t want to come over?”
He touched Will’s bare chest with his fingertips. “I’ll tell you a secret. I’ve never been with anyone else either. I’ve fantasized about it forever, but this is the first time for me too.”
Surprised, Will blurted, “But the way you touched me—I mean, it sure felt like you knew what you were doing.”
“I just did what I would have wanted someone to do to me. I’ve got the same equipment, you know.”
Will laughed and Justin grinned, the tension of a moment before gone. Will was very curious to see Justin’s cock. He’d seen pictures and video on the Internet. He’d even seen guys naked in the locker room at school. Except for his own, he’d never seen an erect cock up close and personal. He’d never touched one, felt its girth, tasted its soft, silky skin…
“Can I try?” he whispered.
“What? I couldn’t hear you.”
Clearing his throat, Will repeated, “Can I try? To—to touch you? To do what you did to me?”
Justin didn’t have to be asked again. Quick as a flash he was out of his clothes. He lay back against the bed, sporting one of the largest cocks Will had ever seen, before or since.
With a gulp of trepidation, Will lowered his mouth over the fat, spongy head as he gripped the base of the thick shaft. It tasted salty, the skin surprisingly soft—soft as satin stretched over steel. He could feel a vein pulsing beneath his fingers as he stroked upward, his hand meeting his mouth.
Justin moaned and grabbed his head, pushing him down against his cock. Startled, Will pulled back, letting Justin’s cock pop free.
“Please, please, please,” Justin begged, his huge cock bobbing between them. Will lowered his head, licking down the shaft with his tongue before again taking the cock into his mouth.
He sucked it like a lollipop, his own cock rising in his underwear as Justin groaned and writhed beneath him. After a few minutes, Justin cried, “Jesus, I’m coming! I’m coming!” He spurted against Will’s tongue, the jism gooey and slightly bitter. Unprepared, Will reared back, the rest of the ejaculate hitting his cheek and neck.
Justin lay still for a moment, except for the rise and fall of his thin, bare chest. Will wiped the ejaculate from his face and neck and, not knowing what else to do, wiped it on Justin’s bedspread.
Still not moving, his eyes closed, Justin intoned dramatically, “William H. Spencer. I do believe I am in love.”
Will smiled now at the recollection. Justin and he began a secret, torrid love affair. Well, a sex affair at any rate, one which was to set the standard for his later interactions. They talked very little, but met regularly at Justin’s house for rapid and repeated oral sex. At school they were distant, merely polite. Ironically it was Justin, despite his earlier accusations that Will was ashamed of his orientation, who kept that distance.
One day, months into their relationship, he confessed he did it to keep Will. “I don’t want you to have to choose, you see. If I let you keep your little het game going at school, I get to keep you all for myself.”
They never progressed past oral sex and kissing, and just before sophomore year ended, Justin’s father was transferred to California. Justin was permitted to finish out the year, but then he disappeared and though they promised to stay in contact, they soon lost touch.
Will had missed the sex sessions, but hadn’t really missed Justin. No one had ever made enough of an impression on him for him to miss them when they’d gone. He wondered if this was a shortcoming on his part or on theirs.
Probably both. For whatever reason, he’d chosen men who wouldn’t matter, who couldn’t hurt him, whose leaving wouldn’t faze him.
He slid from Jack’s back and lay down beside him, putting an arm tenderly over his shoulders. What must it have been like—to be married for so many years and then to lose one’s spouse? Did he miss her? Did he wake up aching for her, turning to find her on her side of the bed before he recalled she would never lie there again?
During all those years of marriage, had he ever had gay fantasies? Was it possible to “become” gay so late in life?
Will knew it wasn’t so much a matter of becoming, but of becoming aware. He thought of Paul’s argument about the continuum of sexual desire. Where did Jack fall on that spectrum? Was he merely bi-curious? Once that curiosity had been satisfied, would he reject Will and what he had to offer? Would he come to long for the caress of a woman’s hand? For the secret folds of a female body?
What the hell am I getting myself into?
Jack moaned and opened his eyes. “Hey,” he said sleepily. “I guess I dozed off.”
Will smiled. “I guess you did.”
Jack smiled back. Slowly he lifted his hand. With his thick, blunt-tipped fingers he touched Will’s cheek. He kept his eyes fixed on Will’s, his expression nakedly vulnerable—part fear, part question, part tenderness.
Will felt a peculiar pull in his heart, like someone was reaching in and grabbing hold. He knew as Jack touched his face it was no longer a matter of getting into something. He was already in—deep.
Jack’s eyes slowly closed again, his hand falling from Will’s face as he slipped back into sleep, a half-smile on his lips. Will resisted the urge to wake him, to pull him close and never let him go.
The “crush”, as Jack had quaintly called it, had been building for weeks now. He was beyond the point of being able to step back. For the first time in his thirty years on the planet, his heart was laid bare. He was vulnerable. He was at Jack’s mercy. He was—oh God, say it wasn’t so—in love.
Jack opened his eyes, squinting in the twilit room. For a moment he didn’t know where he was. He knew he felt very comfortable, his body deeply relaxed against a firm mattress covered in soft bedding. He was on his stomach, his face toward the window, through which the sun was setting in extraordinary gold, pink and deep crimson red splashed over a darkening blue sky.
He could hear water running. As he came fully awake he recalled where he was, on whose bed he lay. The sound was the spray of a shower, Will’s shower. He looked toward the bathroom. The door was ajar.
He sat up and ran his hands through his hair and indulged in a long, lingering, satisfying stretch. He hadn’t felt this relaxed, this physically at ease, in as long as he could remember. He felt energized—ready to run a marathon or swim a mile in the ocean. He felt happy.
Swinging his legs over the bed, he looked around for his shirt and spied it where he’d left it on the chair in a corner of the room. He stood and moved toward it, his path taking him past the open bathroom door.
Unable to resist, he peeked inside. The room was warm and damp, billows of steam fogging the mirrors and swirling in the air. He stepped across the threshold before he realized what he was doing.
He froze in his tracks, riveted by the scene before him.
The shower was enclosed in glass, set into the corner of the room. Unlike most showers Jack was familiar with, this one’s glass was clear. Through the droplets of water and steam he could see Will’s bare body. He knew he should turn around and leave the bathroom at once. He was being impolite. He was spying.
Yet he didn’t move, his eyes held by the sight, which was marred only by a thin veil of steam. Will stood with one hand pressed against the wall, the other wrapped around a long, thick cock. His head was back, the spray hitting his throat and chest.
Jack moved closer, compelled by some force stronger than he could fight. He watched the long, elegant fingers curled around the soapy shaft, gliding up and pulling down in a manner Jack knew well.
The movement was slow and sensual. Jack felt his own cock harden at the erotic sight of the naked man pleasuring himself. Hardly aware of what he was doing, Jack dropped his hand to his crotch, massaging his stiffening member through the denim as he stared at Will’s erotic, graceful movements. Though he knew he should leave, he couldn’t tear his eyes from Will’s body, from his hand on his sex, from his lean, muscled torso, from his head, tilted back, the lips parted as if waiting for a kiss.
Jack cupped his erection, his balls tightening. He licked his lips and tried to swallow.
Get out, before he sees you.
He ignored the silent voice, barely audible over the beating of his heart.
Will’s movements became more rapid, his chest beginning to heave, his mouth open as his hand flew over his cock in a frenzy. All at once Will stiffened and jerked forward with a small, stifled cry. He dropped his hands to his sides and moved so he was standing directly beneath the spray. Jack could see his cock through the steamy glass, still rigid, bobbing lewdly from his groin.
Face burning, heart pounding, Jack backed out of the bathroom, not sure if Will knew he had spied on him, praying he had not. He was stunned not only by what he’d witnessed, but by his own reaction to it.
Again he dropped his hand to his crotch. His cock was hard as bone. Unable to help himself, he massaged it through his pants, though he actively resisted the urge to slip his hand into his underwear.
Oh my God. I’m gay.
He shook his head.
No, no. You just appreciate physical beauty.
That must be what it was. Just as he appreciated the elegant curve of a fine piece of wood, Jack had always appreciated the human form, both male and female. It didn’t make one gay just because one admired the curve of muscle, the lines and angles of something beautifully formed.
The image of Luke rose in his mind. Were his eyes really the same vibrant green as Will’s, or was he confusing the two men along with his feelings? He sat heavily on the chair, his hand still on his cock. Luke had accused him of denying his feelings. At the time Jack had been too scared and confused to admit there was any truth to Luke’s assertion.
As now, back then his body had responded honestly before he had a chance to shut it down. Over twenty years later he could still recall the power of that one kiss, the fierce, melted heat of his desire when Luke had grabbed his cock and stolen an orgasm.
Had he stolen it? Or had Jack, by barely resisting, by pretending to a confusion so great it rendered him helpless, been complicit in the act?
The kiss he’d shared with Will had been just as powerful, but sweeter, far sweeter. He had wanted that kiss, had actively sought it out. The fear he’d experienced at eighteen was still there at forty-four, but now there was also desire, a desire he wouldn’t deny, not this time.
When Will had straddled his ass, his strong, capable hands massaging Jack’s muscles into submission, he was glad Will couldn’t see the erection sprouting beneath him. Will’s touch left trails of electric desire over his skin, though once he began to massage Jack in earnest, his powerful, skilled touch had left Jack undone. His body had completely relaxed, unwinding from its constant vigil, though he no longer knew what he was guarding himself against.
What if, instead of falling asleep, he had twisted beneath Will and pulled him into his arms? Jack shook his head. As powerful as the image was, he knew he wasn’t yet ready for such a bold act. Nor was he entirely sure how Will would react to such forwardness on his part.
Quickly he dropped his hand from his crotch as Will came into the bedroom, the lower half of his body wrapped in a towel. Jack shifted on the chair, crossing his legs to hide his lingering erection.
Will’s hair was wet, his skin glowing. “Hey, you woke up. You were sleeping so soundly I hated to disturb you.” Jack watched Will’s face, looking for hints he’d known Jack was in the bathroom, but his expression was open and completely without guile. With enormous relief, Jack realized he’d escaped undetected.
Will walked toward him and for one crazy second Jack thought he was going to bend down and kiss him. He tensed, not sure how to react. But Will simply leaned over, reaching out toward the lamp that stood by the chair Jack sat in. He flipped it on, oblivious to Jack’s sudden, hot blush.
“It’s getting dark in here. Sun will be down soon. I don’t know about you, but I’m starving. Can you stick around a while? Would you like to go out and get something to eat?”
Jack’s stomach rumbled at the mention of food. He knew whether or not he was ready for something more with Will, he definitely wanted to “stick around”. Sharing a meal would be a good way to ease himself back into a comfort zone.
“That’d be great. Did you have somewhere specific in mind?”
“I did, actually. There’s this English pub I like to go to from time to time. They have good ales and dark beer on tap and hearty food. They have darts too. I’m quite a bit better at darts than at pool.” He laughed. “Maybe I could challenge you to a game.”
Jack grinned. “Sounds like the perfect evening. But am I dressed okay?” He glanced down, realizing he’d been so caught up in his thoughts he’d forgotten to put his shirt on.
“The jeans are fine. Would you like to borrow a shirt? I mean, you can wear the work shirt, of course, but if you wanted something different, I’ve got a whole closetful. Take your pick.”
He moved toward the closet and slid back the doors to reveal several dozen button-down shirts. “This would look nice on you, I think. It’s got a looser cut than most of my shirts, so it should fit your broader build okay.” He held up a white shirt. Jack took it, surprised by how soft the material felt between his fingers.
He stood to put it on. Will watched as he buttoned it, making Jack self-conscious. “Does it look okay?”
“It looks great. Shows off your massive chest and shoulders. From this moment that shirt belongs to you. It looks like it was tailor-made for you.”
“Oh, I couldn’t take your shirt—” Jack began, both embarrassed and pleased by Will’s praise.
“Take it. You can see I have more than I need, and that one never fit me right anyway. It would make me happy if you kept it. Then every time you wear it you can think of me.”
They stood smiling at one another for several seconds. Suddenly Jack realized Will, wrapped in only a towel, must be waiting to get dressed. “I need to stretch my legs. I’ll be downstairs.” With a few long strides he reached the door.
Will pulled on black silk bikini underwear and black jeans. He decided on a black button-down silk shirt as a complement to Jack’s white one. He hadn’t been kidding when he’d said it looked tailor-made for him. A body like that shouldn’t be hidden.
He picked up Jack’s worn denim work shirt and looked at the tag. It was easily several sizes too large, even for Jack. Though he hated to admit it, the stereotype of straight men not knowing how to dress was all too often true. Jack’s jeans were baggy too. He’d look hot with those thickly muscled thighs wrapped in form-fitting black denim or even better, leather. Will laughed to himself, doubting he’d ever get Jack in leather.
One step at a time, he told himself with a grin. One step at a time. He lifted Jack’s shirt to his face and inhaled deeply, Jack’s manly scent permeating the garment. It was part sweat, part something woodsy and fresh, part aftershave. He folded the shirt and gently placed it on the bed before returning to the bathroom to get ready.
Things were already progressing at a rate he’d never have dreamed of only a few days before. What a serious turn-on it had been to realize Jack was standing inside the bathroom door, rooted to the spot as he watched Will touch himself. He’d tried to draw out the show once he’d realized he had an audience, but knowing Jack was watching had excited him so much he couldn’t hold off for long.
He’d decided as he dried off he wouldn’t let on to Jack he’d seen him peeping. Knowing Jack the little he did, he figured it would be too embarrassing for him to admit at this point. Though he was dying to find out if Jack had been excited by his little show, or simply curious, he knew now wasn’t the time to probe.
They’d go out to the pub and have a nice, uncomplicated, non-threatening time. Maybe he would invite Jack to come back home with him afterwards or maybe he wouldn’t. Jack would let him know, one way or the other, the right thing to do. One step at a time…
Over hot, crispy fish ’n’ chips and pints of Guinness Stout, Will and Jack talked about their work, about movies they’d seen, about politics, about the stock market and the price of gasoline, about everything except what was simmering just below the surface, at least for Jack.
He kept seeing the image of Will naked in the steam, his head thrown back, his shaft in his hand… Again his cock nudged for attention. Jack grinned to himself, thinking he hadn’t had this many erections since his teenage days, when the slightest provocation sent the blood hurtling to his groin.
It was hard to follow the thread of whatever Will was talking about. Jack took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He forced himself to calm down and pay attention. He was going to have to stand up in a minute to play darts and the last thing he needed was a telltale erection bulging in his pants.
Will prattled on, his conversation completely devoid of even a hint of the sexual tension that had sprung up between them at Will’s place. A part of him was relieved at this reprieve but at the same time he felt put out. Was that amazing kiss no big deal to Will? Did he kiss and then massage every guy he had to his house? Had Jack wildly misinterpreted the whole thing?
This was so new, this feeling of being out of his ken. Jack’s life had always been so predictable, so easy, so—dull. He had spent a lifetime playing it safe. He didn’t make waves. He did what was expected. He’d married Emma when told that was the proper thing to do. He’d put college on hold because a father supported his children.
He’d never experienced fireworks with Emma, though she had been a lovely woman. Part of it was because of her hesitation, even resistance to the act of sex. At first he tried to get Emma to see her naked body was beautiful, but he’d given up early on. Emma had been ashamed of her body, not because it was ugly, far from it, but because she’d grown up believing the human body was sinful and shameful and should be hidden. Sex was something to be engaged in furtively, always in the dark, for his pleasure perhaps, but not for hers.
The tone was set that very first night when they were still seniors in high school and she’d let him have his way. She had, he was to realize later, used the carrot of sex as a way to control him, to
win
and
keep
him. There had been no pleasure, only eyes squeezed shut and fists clenched as she’d urged him to hurry and finish.
Young, horny, stupid and still fleeing the feelings Luke had stirred in him, he’d mistakenly thought she was only frightened because it was the first time. He was frightened too, but too horny to care.
She’d been a
dutiful
wife, permitting him to have sex with her once or twice a week for the duration of their marriage, except during and just after pregnancy. To his knowledge she’d never had an orgasm. “It’s okay,” she would assure him. “I don’t need that. This is for you. Just hold me. That’s all I want.”
At first he hadn’t believed her. During the first year of their marriage he was convinced he could change her. He would be the one to help her tear down the stupid, misguided notions that had warped her thinking and inhibited her ability to receive physical pleasure. If he could get her to relax enough, he’d show her what she’d been missing. She would be grateful and become his secret sex goddess.