JOHN DARLING'S COMA
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
After his double fuck with Gerry Spelling, John's sweating on his way home, but not primarily because of the sex. It was mostly because of a malfunctioning thermostat maintaining a temperature in the nineties. When John walked into his and Gary's apartment, it felt cold, but it was actually 71 degrees.
He undressed and, with goosebumps in the chill, hopped into a hot shower, thinking about his sexy time with Gerry. Yeah, he was pretty much sexually satisfied by the double fuck, but he still felt sexually aroused thinking about seeing Andy for lunch tomorrow. The buddy sex was supposed to eliminate sexual urges when John was with his ex-boyfriend and nurse.
Drying himself, John thought, 'Where did this second round of sexual heat for Andy come from? Hell, Andy dropped me as his boyfriend and then went for Dickie in a big way, so maybe that's it right there. You always want what you can't have. No, not necessarily That's generalized bullshit. I want Gary, not Andy. I think I'm mixing up my emotions because of the timetable of having lunch with Andy tomorrow and flying to Montana to be with Gary less than twenty-four hours later.'
After putting on another clean pair of Gary's larger-waistband underpants, John sets the alarm on his phone and then gets in bed, consciously not thinking about anything. He falls asleep quickly and dreams a foggy dream about him being three hundred pounds, with a nurse trying to fuck him in a hospital bed, but the two get tangled up and can't do it. Deep asleep, his eyeballs move under his eyelids. John squawks a non-word sound out loud, "Aridaorade..." Then, the dream fades away, and his eyeballs are motionless.
He doesn't remember any of that when his alarm goes off at five o'clock Thursday morning. Groping for his phone on the bedside table, John hits Gary's speed dial number, and Gary says, sounding more alert and awake than anyone should at five o'clock in the morning, "Hello, pretty boy. Good morning!" They talk about tomorrow, with Gary sounding disappointed that John hasn't even made plane reservations yet.
Gary says, "When you find out when the flight gets here, text me so I'll know when to expect you."
John's apologetic about procrastinating getting the airplane reservation. Then, Gary's apologetic for sounding as if he was being critical, adding, "I guess I'm anxious to see you, Darling. This three-week course is wearing me down and kicking my ass. Two guys, well, one girl and a guy, dropped out yesterday. That makes almost half the class that started have now dropped out. We're all pissed off that it seems the instructors are purposely trying to get us to quit and, blah, blah, blah..."
Gary continued to vent his frustration about the auto/computers study course, John nodding and saying things like, "Ah, jeez, oh fuck, and uh-huh." Finally, Gary stops in mid-sentence and says, "Christ, I sound like a pussy whining about my period. I'll stop complaining and tell you that I'm seriously looking forward to a diversion, and no diversion could be a better one than you, but I've got to run now. I'll look for your text about the air transportation."
"Bye, Gary. And I'll do that..." but he hears a 'Click," Gary ends the call, but John finishes his sentence anyway, talking out loud to himself, "Later this morning."
Lying in bed, his phone on his chest, John nods his head, muttering, "I felt a strong urge to hug Gary's fat body against my skinny... Well, haha, I'm not skinny now."
Putting the phone on the nightstand, he goes back to sleep and doesn't wake up until five minutes to nine. Opening his eyes, he checks the time on his phone and mutters, "Hot damn, I needed that sleep."
After his ten-minute bathroom routine, minus showering because he did that last night, John makes and drinks a high-calorie smoothie while cooking two fried egg sandwiches. He finishes breakfast and goes online to Google, 'Flights from Cheyenne Wyoming to Billings Montana.'
After Googling to get an idea of what's available, it only takes ten minutes talking with a United Airlines operator to purchase a business class flight from Denver's airport to Billings, Montana (business class because that's what Andy got for them coming from Boston).
He wanted a direct flight, so he'd quickly realized from Googling that he couldn't fly out of Cheyenne Airport, so he confirmed a ticketless mobile boarding pass for the nonstop flight out of the Dever International Airport: DEN-BIL nonstop flight 608 leaving at 3:40 in the afternoon, arriving at 5:19. It costs $429, about twice what Economy would cost, but fuck the economy hassle! Coming back on Sunday, the flight leaves at 6:01 PM and arrives at 7:50.
Texting this information to Gary, John adds, 'I'll take a Yellow Cab to the hotel. It's a fairly short ride.'
John was pleased with himself for accomplishing the ticket purchase, especially with a mobile ticket on his cell phone the way Andy did for their trip from Boston, seemingly a lifetime ago. Finished congratulating himself for doing what almost any twenty-one-year-old guy could do, he began his exercise program, and halfway through, John's phone pings, indicating a text.
He finishes his sit-ups, and then, with perspiration dripping into his eyes again, he reads the text from Gary. 'Great choice of flights, Darling, but do not use Yellow Cab. They're not reliable. I'll have a car service pick you up. Look for a driver holding a sign with your name at the luggage pickup. We'll talk tomorrow morning. I'm like a silly cunt... excited to see you tomorrow afternoon. Goddammit, what'd you do to me, Darling?"
Smiling that Gary is happy with the flight he chose, he's thrilled Gary is so anxious to see him. John celebrates by drinking half a bottle of water and then finishing his exercises.
Twenty minutes after ten, he steps out of the apartment building wearing sneakers, jeans, a T-shirt, and Gary's hoodie sweatshirt. John has the hood up to start his three-mile run around Cheyenne. It's thirty-nine degrees with a stiff breeze. Yeah, it's cold when he starts his run, but five minutes later, he starts sweating, and near the end of the run, his head is bare, and the sweatshirt is unzippered.
He finished the three miles and walked the last two blocks back to the apartment building, feeling really good! His three weeks of exercising and weightlifting, plus the three-mile runs, have him in the best shape of his life, and the hell with that little roll of fat around his waist. Okay, it's not exactly 'little'; it is noticeable, but not grotesque yet... haha!
John laughs while thinking that thought, totally unconcerned about the fat. He's proud to weigh one hundred sixty pounds because that's a great weight for a six-foot, almost twenty-two-year-old male.
He showers, thinking about his lunch date with Andy. They made arrangements on the phone yesterday that John would pick Andy up at noon, and they'd eat at a ritzy French restaurant in downtown Cheyenne. The restaurant is two miles from John's apartment, but he needs to drive ten minutes in the opposite direction to get Andy, so he'll need to leave the apartment around eleven thirty-five.
That gives him plenty of time after his shower to get dressed and fuck around with his hair. After trying to comb his hair, he used Gary's flattop hair tonic, which he had used the day before. The tonic flattened the hair that had grown over his ears and kept the bangs combed to the side. His hair is easily long enough to comb in a part on the left side now. Stepping back from the bathroom sink, looking at his reflection in the mirror, John shrugged and mumbled, "That's the best I can do with that."
He put on another pair of Gary's underpants, then a pair of tan, ironed khakis and one of the new Polo brand white button-up-the-front shirts he'd recently bought. Stepping into his $109.95 recently bought dark tan Sperry 2-Eye Boat Shoes, he gave up the fight of trying to button the khakis. He's too fat for that, but he can't wear Gary's wider waistband khakis because the legs are too short.
Because he can't close the waist of the khaki pants, he wears a belt, and between the belt and the zipper lock, his pants stay up. To cover the unbuttoned gap in the waistband, he pulls on a dark blue sleeveless sweater and checks himself out in the full-length mirror on the back of the bathroom door. Nodding, he mutters, "Well, Jesus, it'd be impossible to be more 'preppy-looking' than this outfit I'm wearing."
Wearing another one of Gary's hoodie sweatshirts again, John walks out of the apartment building's front door and mutters, "I'm starving, and I had that big breakfast a couple of hours ago. What the fuck is up with that?"
For John, overeating has become a habit, one he's become very fond of because he eats only what tastes good, and that usually means high-calorie foods like sweets and fatty food. Much of the best-tasting parts of meat are in the animal's fat, and other fats like butter make everything else taste better, too.
He lights a cigarette and smokes it, wandering up the block, killing time because he's early. Andy will not be ready at the agreed-upon time, never mind earlier than that time. Grinning to himself, he has a warm feeling for Andy, who has helped John tremendously. The kind of help Andy provided, invaluable at the time, isn't the kind of help John currently needs. That's if he needs help of any kind now, which is doubtful. He wants leadership because he likes his boyfriend leading... likes it more than he needs it.
John has come a long way since his coma and amnesia. That's when John needed all kinds of help, and Andy was there for him, but now John needs to be on his own, learning things the way everyone learns things... through experience and self-help the way twenty-one and twenty-two-year-old young men and women have always done.
But still, John has, all through his life, liked having a friend who was kind of a leader for him. If that friend is a boyfriend, that's even better, but that's a very different thing than the help Andy gave him while helping John not be afraid of acting his age.
Thinking those thoughts while driving to the house he grew up in and then parking in the driveway, John smiled because he liked being with Andy. He was a wonderful boyfriend in the past and a really great friend now. Getting out of his pickup, he felt a special warm spot in his heart for Andy Salsbury and was happy to be going to lunch with him, to be doing anything with him.
John still doesn't feel comfortable just walking into the house even though he owns it. He's letting Andy live here, so it is Andy's home temporarily, which means John rings the doorbell and waits for Andy to invite him inside. Andy does that enthusiastically, saying, "Darling! You look beautiful, but then you always do." Today, Andy's lisping and acting very gay with his gestures and head movements.
"Hello, Andy! I'm looking good because I'm so happy we're having lunch together."
Inside, they hug and kiss on the lips, then do a longer kiss, but still without using their tongues. "Oh, Andy, your kisses taste so good and are so familiar. Hugging you, my body fits against yours perfectly," and John's eyes start stinging as he gets emotional.
Not noticing John's teary eyes, Andy breaks away and says, "Darling, I need to finish putting on my makeup. You're always early, sweetheart. Omigod and Dickie's the opposite; he's always late for everything, so what's a girl to do?"
John follows Andy upstairs, saying, "Stop it! You're not a girl, Andy!"
"I know that, sweetheart. It's just a figure of speech, but with Dickie, Omigod, he's so macho/male that he makes me feel like a girl at times. With you, my love, I need to be more of an in-charge macho person."
"No, you don't. That's bullshit. You used to need to be that, but not anymore, Andy. Thanks to you, and now Gary, I'm okay. Sure, I do like your leadership, but not how I used to NEED it."
In the bedroom, Andy says, "Oh, that's good to hear, Darling. I prefer it when we're just two girlfriends talking about our men."
John rolls his eyes as Andy holds up three lipstick tubes; he asks, "Um, which lipstick do you like the best? This pink one or the dark red, or black?"
"I don't like any of them, but if I must choose, I guess the black."
Andy says, "You and Dickie say the same thing. You don't like my makeup, so poo to both of you." He holds out his hands, "Look, I got another manicure."
"Oh, yeah. Huh..."
Andy lisp, "My boyfriend said if I liked it, the hell with the cost; go for it! The same for my hairdresser."
John doesn't say anything about the 'hell with the cost' remark, even though he knows it's him who paid for it. Andy still has John's debit card, while John uses his VISA credit card.
Unlike John, Andy does not look preppy when he's finally ready to go. He's wearing loose-fitting clothes, but at least they are men's clothes, although in colors you don't see a lot of guys wearing, like Andy's purple sweater over a pale pink flowery shirt.
As John drives them to the ritzy restaurant, Andy says, "Johnny, you are especially pretty and preppy today, but our clothes clash."
John mumbles, "You clash all by yourself, Andy."
Haha, they both laugh, then John adds, "'Actually, I agree I'm looking preppy, but when you said it, it didn't sound right. I mean, is the word preppy still a worthwhile slang word? Except for you and me just now, I can't remember the last time I heard anyone, other than my, um, dad... he used to say I was preppy before, um, you know."
John's tearing up as Andy speaks with an exaggerated lisp, "Yes, it's so sad about your parents, Johnny. I didn't know them, obviously, but, um, anyway, I think the word preppy started out as slang for students at elite Ivy League colleges and prep schools, mostly in the Northeast. It was my grandmother who told me that when she'd give me a shirt for my birthday or something. She meant it was way back in the sixties and seventies. Now, in the two-thousands, some girls on Tic Tok tried changing the meaning of preppy to stylish, comfy, exciting, fun, and colorful. Remember? Did you see that?"
"What? Um, no, I don't do Tic Tok much."
Andy says, "Well, their description was so general it tells you absolutely nothing! Girls really should try to just be quiet and stay out of the way, ya know?"
John asks, "Don't you like girls at all? Some of the girls I've known have been extremely nice to me."
"Darling, that's because you're gorgeous, and they want you to fuck them. Hahaha, if you were straight, by now, you'd probably be the daddy to two or three babies."
"Oh, balls to that. Anyway, I think preppy is a guy word meaning clean-cut synonymous with clothing brands like Ralph Lawen (Polo), LL Beam, J.Crew etc., etc. Relaxed formality without being overly casual."
"I don't know what you're talking about, sweetheart. I've never strived to be preppy; I can assure you of that, but preppy is perfect for someone like you."
"Thanks, um, if you meant that as a compliment, or... ah, never mind." Then, imitating Andy's lisping, John says, "Omigod, Andy dear, my man, Gary, is definitely not into preppy clothes, not from what I've seen in his closet and bureau drawers."
Shrugging, having lost interest in any more 'preppy' talk, Andy pulls the rearview mirror toward him, checking something about his makeup, muttering, "Well, sweetheart, I don't see how fat and preppy could go together anyway."
"Yeah, it could! First off, though, Gary wasn't that fat to start with, and secondly, he's been on a starvation diet that started a week before he left for Montana, so he's even more, um, not fat than he was before."
Licking his little finger and then wiping it across his plucked eyebrow, Andy mutters, "Love is blind." Then, straightening the rearview mirror, Andy asks, "Or are you not in love?"
"No, of course, we're not in love! How could we be? For Christ's sake, we hardly know one another."
Andy rubs John's shoulder, "Well, you and I thought we were in love there for a while. Remember, sweetie?"
"Yes, but we recognized it as a loving feeling for one another, but not 'in love.' We had a wonderful friendship-love, and we still have it! I loved you for helping me so much; it made all the difference to me, Andy. What you did for me was life-saving stuff..."
Andy shrugs, "I did my best for you even though it cost me my job."
Giving Andy a 'look,' John pulls into the small parking lot behind the small restaurant, mumbling, "Jeez, should I pay you more, Andy? I'll gladly do it if you want."
Shaking his head, Andy says, "Nah, you've given me more money than I deserve."
Getting out of the pickup, John asks, "Do you think we'll have trouble getting a table? This small parking lot is full."
Andy takes John's hand and brightly says, "I wouldn't think so, Darling. Like an adult, I made a reservation." He grins and kisses John's cheek."
Grinning back at Andy, John mumbles, "You think of everything, Andy."
Andy squeezes John's hand, pulling him to a stop, and then puts both arms around John's neck and kisses him on the mouth, this time with lots of tongue action. Fifteen seconds later, John is squirming out of Andy's arms, mumbling, "I'm going to cum, Andy."
Smirking, Andy says, "I knew it! I knew you've still got a major crush on me, and after lunch, we'll go back to my place, and I'll give you a special close-friendship fuck. Neither of us will tell Dickie or Gary. You and I have something special, a special relationship that exceeds boundaries."
John thinks, 'What? Your place?'
Then he says, "Yes, it is a special relationship we have, Andy. We've had a unique relationship of patient/nurse, a wonderful, very special time as boyfriends, and now a loving and close friendship, but the thing is, I've committed myself to be true to both Dickie and Gary and to you, too, in a way, so I need to pass with thanks to your sweet, generous offer. You'd do that for me, and I appreciate the offer, but I need to use my willpower and say no, but thank you very much."
Putting his arm around John's waist, Andy gets them to walk around to the front of the restaurant, saying, "That's very noble of you, honey, but after lunch, we'll fuck just the same... um, if that's okay with you. And I'm telling you right now that it is okay that we do that. Okay?"
John makes a face, muttering, "That's two too many okays, Andy."
Inside, they get seated, but the menu is in French, so Andy waves over a waiter and tries speaking French to him, telling the waiter they can't read French. The French waiter, appearing annoyed, said, "Arreter de parle ridiculiser!"
Andy said, "Well, thank you very much, but," and he tried speaking French some more. He had a year of French in eleventh grade six years ago... so, ya know.
The Maitre d' sees the waiter's face getting red and comes over to smile and ask the waiter, "Que see passe-t-il?" The waiter says something fast, then adds, "Connard..."
Cutting off the waiter, the Maitre d' says to the guys in broken English, "There's an English version of the menu in the back. Would you care for a cocktail while you look at the menu?"
Without asking for ID, the waiter huffily takes their order for rum and Cokes. The guys happily have two cocktails before their French onion soup course, followed by steak Diane, lyonnaise potatoes, and asparagus with hollandaise sauce. Most of the food they ordered they didn't even know what it was, but all of it was delicious, including creme brulee for dessert.
There was no mention of fucking during their lunch conversation. Mostly, they recollected fond memories from the past; some were terrible situations at the time but funny now looking back on them. It brought them even closer together, and, not surprisingly, John had a minor crying jag that, gratefully, their surly French waiter didn't notice, or he'd undoubtedly scoff at that, too.
Andy paid for the lunch with John's debit card, saying, "This lunch is on me, Johnny."
"Oh, that's so nice of you, Andy. Thank you so much!"
Walking out of the restaurant, Andy asks, "Should we stop at a bar for a few beers?"
Frowning, John goes, "Since when did you decide you like drinking booze?"
Getting in the pickup, Andy mumbles, "I like drinking okay. I thought you might need a little more liquor to get in the mood for some serious, old-time sucking and fucking like we used to do all the time."
Driving out of the parking lot, John nods, "Yeah, we sure had some great sucking and fucking times together, Andy. Awesome times, but that was then, and this is now. As I tried to say earlier, I don't want to do it anymore, but I'll always have those memories."
Andy begrudgingly mutters, "Well, look at you. I guess my work here is done. Fine, you want to leave the nest and try flying on your own; well, go ahead and see how that works out for you."
Turning his head to look at Andy, John goes, "What? Fly? Whaddaya mean?"
"Oh, nothing. Have a nice life, that's all I'm saying."
John says, "Andy, come on, don't be like that. Are you mad because I don't want to have sex, um, with you?"
"Don't be ridiculous! I'm fine! Dickie and I are fucking around the clock. It wasn't for me. I suggested I fuck you because I was trying to do you a favor, but tell me... who have you found to fuck with since Gary's been away. And from Dickie's experience, Gary's not providing you much sexual relief even when he is here. Dickie says that Gary is not a sex-crazed boyfriend, to say the least."
"What? Whaddaya mean by that, and why are you angry? This is so unlike you!"
Andy does a dismissive hand flip, not saying anything. After two minutes of silence, John says, "I don't understand why you're angry or disappointed with me or whatever has upset you, Andy. I love you like a brother. A big brother I never had but surely could have used. What can I do to make you happy?"
Shaking his head, Andy says, "Nothing. I mean, it's not you, Johnny. You're doing the right thing by not, um, doing it with me. We had our time, and it was wonderful, but you're moving on. I guess I liked it when you needed me and did whatever I said. I'm acting like, well, as if I'm jealous that you don't need me anymore."
"What? I still need you. I'll need you to be my friend for the rest of my life. You're my best Boston friend ever! You and Dickie are the two best and only best friends I've ever had or ever wanted to have. You told me we're kissing gay friends. I'll always love getting a hug and a kiss from you."
Andy chuckles, then mutters, "Jesus, we've switched roles. You're the mature one now, and I'm the sulking, jealous dickhead."
"Oh, fuck. Are you saying I was a sulking jealous dickhead before?"
They both laugh, Andy mumbling, "Nah, you were never that. That's how I've been acting this afternoon, though. You've straightened me out, so thank you for that."
John pulls onto his Cheyenne house's driveway, saying, "See what a fantastic job you did counseling me, teaching and helping me, Andy?"
They sit in the idling pickup, looking at each other, Andy finally saying, "Seriously, Darling, who has been fucking you? You've made great progress after all you've been through, but I know how much you liked having a hard dick in your rectum. Um, you too easily turned me down; all my bullshit about doing it as a favor to you notwithstanding. You saw right through that. So, who are you fucking with? I'm curious, that's all."
"Let me ask you a question. Before me, were you having sex a couple of times every day,"
"No, I told you what my sex life was before you. It was that old guy in my apartment who would call me when his wife was visiting her sister, and I had to act dominant for him. Then you met my other sex buddy. The five-foot-tall 'top' guy who, when he felt like it, would fuck me. He's the guy who drives a hearse, remember? That was the extent of my sex life before getting used to you and me doing it around the world and back."
"Yeah, I remember, and that five-foot guy is not what I'm looking for... hahaha. No, seriously, what I mean is, um, I'm trying to get used to a more normal sex life by matching Gary's sex, um, cycle. Something like that."
Andy says, "You've got some wicked strong willpower then... congratulations!"
"It's all because of your brilliant psychological nursing, Andy. You showed me how to act my age, and twenty-one isn't all that old to start with, so I've been able to follow your leadership and act like a twenty-one-year-old nerd."
They both laugh and then Andy says, "Just so you know I'm not an idiot, I don't totally believe your story about abstaining from sex for most of the two weeks Gary's been away. No offense, just saying..."
With a big grin on his face, John goes, "Whaaat?"
Andy chuckles, then leans over and kisses John's cheek. John holds Andy's head, and they do a sexy kiss on the lips, tongues sliding and spit swapping. Breaking the kiss, Andy murmurs, "I'll bet both my nuts that you have a hard boner in your pants after our sexy kiss, but I'm not going to check to see if I'm right. Love you, bro."
As he gets out, John grins, saying, "Me too, bro." He watches Andy unlock the front door, turn around and wave at John, then he goes inside.
Driving away, John thinks, 'Is it a real lie if the person you're lying to knows it's a lie? Andy knows I've been fucking with someone, but I was right not trying to explain my three sex buddies. Why would I do that? I don't want to be like a girlfriend, giggling and describing my sex life with my girlfriend, Andy! That's not how I feel. It was fun goofing like that, but since being with Gary. I don't think it's fun doing that anymore.'
Still, he feels a little guilty for not confiding in Andy, who has meant so much to him. Pushing that guilt trip to the side, he said out loud, "Who am I kidding? I wanted to do what Andy wanted! Yeah, but I didn't. I know what I'm going to do the minute I'm inside the apartment," and he stepped on the gas going through a yellow light, anxious to get home.
He grinned to himself, thinking, 'I called it home. The apartment I called home. That's so cool!'
So, when he walked into his 'home,' he wasn't sure who he wanted to fantasize about while jerking off: Andy or Gary. He'd just left Andy but was drawn inexorably to Gary as his fantasy jerk-off partner.
Taking off and dropping Gary's hoodie sweatshirt on a chair as he walked right to the bedroom. Murmuring, "Fuck me, Gary," as he got undressed, then he got out the dildo and cock ring. Shaking with need and anticipation, he took twenty minutes to get the dildo lubricated and partially in his ass which got his dick slightly hard but not a boner yet.
Using a lot of lube, John carefully gets his semi-hard cock and balls through the cock ring, then continues screwing in the dildo, opening his anus more with each twist while he makes quiet grunting sounds picturing Gary doing everything as his cock gets harder, and harder until the dildo has his anus opened very wide, his cock a throbbing, swollen, fully engorged boner.
John stares at it, feeling incredibly turned on. He closes his eyes, whining out loud, "My asshole is opened so wide, Gary. Oh, you twisted it again, Oooh, I'm going to cum."
In his head, he hears Gary mumbling, 'Oh, for Christ's sake, stop your whining, pretty boy. You know you're enjoying every second of this.'
The dildo is very tightly way up his ass, but John still can move it a half inch back and forth, and he continues pulling it and pushing it until it's moving in and out almost two full inches. He moans and moans at the feeling of deep sexual pleasure from his rectum.
He murmurs out loud, "This feels so spectacular, Gary... fuck me..."
His climax knows something is up, this isn't normal, but it's not sure what's going on, so it does its job and moves closer and closer to climax until John squeals, 'Garrrry!' and blows a load of cum that squeezes out the narrow opening in his cock, the actual climax lasting longer than normal by almost five seconds of ecstasy.
John thrashes around, squeezing his still-hard cock, thanking the dildo in his head. Breathing hard, he continues fucking himself with the dildo, eventually getting it moving three inches in and back, with mind-blowing sensations building and building. And after six steady minutes of fucking himself, pleasure mounting and mounting, John making whiny sounds, squeaky sounds the entire time; his eyes tightly closed, he murmurs, "Gary, Gary, uh, uh, uh, ooh..." as another squirt of cum squeezes out, leaving John shaking. He's shaking and shuddering with pleasure that can't be described.
Taking a deep breath, it's easy to pull out the dildo, his anus opened as wide as it's ever been opened. When it's out, his anus is opened wider than needed even for Gary's fatter-than-makes-any-sense boner. Staggering around the bedroom for a minute, John stops and, still holding the dildo, his penis getting closer to flaccid by the second, says out loud, "That was alright, but I should have let Andy fuck me. This can't compare with that."
He goes into the bathroom, pulling off the cock ring as he goes. Inside the bathroom, John puts the sex toys in the sink and pulls the plug thingy to stop the drain. He turns on the hot water and, from under the sink, he gets disinfectant bathroom cleaner and pours into the sink, pouring in more than necessary.
Then, watching the sink fill up, the cock ring floats to the top as the water raises. John turns the water off and rolls off a lot of toilet paper, grinning and saying, "Would you wipe my ass, boyfriend?" In his head, hearing Gary say, 'Wipe your own ass, pretty boy,' and then John smacks his own butt cheek, adding, 'Oh, for Christ's sakes, Darling! Okay, give me the toilet paper... I'll do it for you. Can't you do anything right? Gawd,' Then John makes a kissing sound, saying, "Aw, thanks for the kiss, Gary."
Heh, heh, he snickers, then wets a washcloth and cleans himself, thinking, 'This little bit of playing with myself will, by comparison, increase the pleasure tenfold getting fucked by Gary tomorrow, so, on second thought, I'm glad I didn't give in to Andy.'
Drying his privates and ass, John wets another washcloth and pumps on it some Dial foaming disinfectant hand soap, then cleans the disinfected sex toys with it. Rinsing the sex toys, he pats them dry and takes them back to the bedroom, storing them on the shelf in the closet this time.
He mutters, "That was okay. I'm good," and he gets dressed to go to the mall. He needs to buy jeans and khakis with a thirty-two-inch waist. He'd been wearing pants with a thirty-inch waist since middle school. He needs underpants, too, but he's outgrown the girlie panties fetish or whatever it was. He snickers, saying, 'Gary will be impressed I've moved past girlie underpants." Then, "Fuck, though, they felt good on my cock and balls, but..."
Outside, he smokes a cigarette, feeling smug that he can take care of himself. He made the right decision to pleasure himself rather than let Andy do it, "And I feel pretty good, too," he said out loud.
There are two young black dudes walking by; the one wearing a do-rag says, "I wish I did. What's your secret, motherfucker?" But he was smiling and being friendly, so John said, "I just had a damn good jerk off," and the black kid grinned, looking cute, saying, "I'll have to try that." His black friend chuckled and said something to his friend that John couldn't hear, but both the black dudes laughed and slapped hands, walking on.
That little encounter made John think of Clarence Smith and his BO, thinking, 'I might never get another chance with Clarence. Gary's going to have all my attention. I don't know how I know that, but I'll bet it's true. What is it that Gary and I see in one another that is so special?'
Stepping on his cigarette butt and unlocking his pickup, John mutters, "Damn, I wish I'd followed up with Clarence when I had the chance."
He drives to the mall and spends three hundred dollars on three pairs of skinning jeans with a thirty-two-inch waist, two pairs of what he considers dress-up khakis with the same waist, and two packs of three jockey underpants. For the first time ever, he buys medium size, not small.
In the mall's parking lot, a nice-looking man wearing a sports coat and turtleneck sweater but no outer coat, probably in his middle thirties, sees John with two large shopping bags, one in each hand. John had backed out the door, so the man said, "Hey Skip, need some help with those? Doing some early Christmas shopping, are you?"
John says, "No, I'm... Ah, never mind. Thanks anyway..."
The man has a friendly smile on his face, but he's blocking John's way, asking, "You're a college student, right?"
John mutters, 'What?"
"Laramie Community College or maybe Wyoming University?"
John stops because his other option is to run the nice-looking man over. He says, "No, I'm taking a year off from Duke University, ah, staying with a friend here in Cheyenne," and he tries stepping around the man who subtly steps in his way to again block him.
The man chuckles and says, "No, wait. I'm not trying to pick you up, although if that's an option, haha. Um, is it?"
"What? I need to be someplace I'm in a, um, a couple of minutes, or right now, actually, so if..."
He says, "I'm Charlie Neelie, and I own the Neelie Modeling Agency. It's in town on front street," He pulls a business card from his sports coat's pocket and, since John's hands are busy holding the shopping bags, Charlie slips the business card into the side pocket of Gary's hoodie sweatshirt that John's wearing.
John frowns at the man as Charlie Neelie says, "There's my business card. If you come in for an interview, I'll pay you two hundred dollars. You can listen to my pitch for fifteen minutes about how lucrative male modeling is; then you can take the two hundred dollars and leave, telling me to drop dead if you want. Okay, do we have a deal?"
"No, sorry. I'm rich and don't need two hundred dollars," and this time, he slips by the man, who turns around and asks, "Well, how about going out to dinner with me, then?"
Without answering, John passes the shopping bag from his right hand to his left and then fumbles the fob from the same pocket Charlie's card is in. He unlocks the pickup, turns, and says, "Maybe. Let me think about it."
The guy smiles hugely, yelling, "You hot shit, you! Yeah, screw the career, let's do dinner. Call me!"
John puts the shopping bags in the backseat, waves at the guy and, crazily, feels good about that short encounter as he drives back to the apartment, then thinking about what Gary left him in the freezer to have for dinner tonight. Or, maybe...
To be continued... donnymumford@outlook.com
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