Say Goodbye to Sparkleland

Say Goodbye to Sparkleland Chapter 14

Hello friends. Thanks for continuing to give Mitchell your time. With each chapter, he keeps inching closer to You Know Who.

Currently he is in the middle of his fifth session with Dr. Logan Hoorwood.

14

I reached for the black book. It was time for the next entry.

"Number 14, Martin Riggs."

"Wasn't that your roommate?"

"Yes."

"Your ... straight roommate?"

"Yes."

Logan's expression went from confused to intrigued.

I opened the book. "Martin Riggs. Three inches soft, five hard. Cut. No pre-cum. Thick. Magnificent balls. Cum unsure."

"Cum unsure????"

"I don't know what it was like. I swallowed."

"Ah. Alrighty then."

"The other words I wrote were mistake, drunk, sweet, and twice."

"I can see where this is going."

"It was probably three or four weeks after Kenneth ended it with me. I think Martin felt a little sorry for me. I told him I was fine, but maybe I was coming off as lonely. I don't know."

"So, what happened?"

"We went out for drinks."

"Straight bar or gay bar?"

"Straight. It was a couple blocks away. We walked."

"I see."

"Good thing too. Neither of us were in any condition to drive by the end of the night."

"Sorry, fellas. I'm cutting you off. I'd like to call you a cab if you'll let me."

"No worries," I slurred. "We aren't driving."

"You should probably get some food in you."

"We have stuff at the apartment," Martin told the bartender.

Martin signed the tab. Even when I was drunk, I could tell his signature wasn't close to being legible. I left the tip. It was big. We had been at Copper Pig for almost three hours.

I felt okay to walk. Sort of. Martin put his arm around me to hold my shoulder. It stabilized me a little.

"How are you in better shape? You had one more beer than me?" I asked.

Martin belched. "I can hold my beer better than you. I was raised on it by my father."

"How touchin'," I said.

"He started handing me beers at 17. In college, I'd have a six pack on some nights."

Martin stumbled.

"Ha! So there. Don't act like you're better than me."

We both had our arms around each other. I liked feeling Martin's body. As a police officer, it was very fit from his training. He had beautiful arms.

"We had shared the apartment for a few months. It was funny. Martin was good looking. Not stunningly handsome, but ... still good looking. When he had facial scruff, it was sort of a turn on."

"And did he that night?"

"Oh yeah. He hadn't shaved in a few days. As I was drinking, I thought he looked good. He got hotter with each beer I downed."

Logan chuckled.

We sat on the couch and kicked off our shoes.

"Do you talk to Kenneth much?" I asked.

"We don't see each other much since training ended, but ... occasionally, I guess."

"Is he doing okay?"

"I ... have no way of knowing. I did see him with a girl one time."

I sighed. "Oh well."

"He liked you, Mitchell. He did. I ... I guess he's bi."

"He's pretennin' to be." I sneered. "He's trying to convince himself he can go straight."

"He's just one guy."

"I know. I just have shitty luck in finding someone. Guess it makes sense to figger I'm the pro'lem ... the problem."

"I'm sorry it hasn't worked out so far for you," Martin said. "You're really a nice guy." He patted my shoulder.

"Nice doezn't get you nanywhere."

"Oh hell, man. You're good looking too." Martin rubbed the backs of his fingers along my beard. "Any guy would be lucky to have you."

"Do you mean that?"

"Sure."

My hand reached up to gently touch his face stubble.

For a moment, we didn't say anything. His eyes looked into my eyes. My eyes looked into his. He reached up to grip my neck. We inched closer. My hand caressed his cheek. We moved closer. Our eyes were locked. Our lips moved closer, but they didn't touch.

"Martin," I whispered.

My mouth opened, and our lips were mere centimeters apart. The tips of our noses touched. We looked deeply into each other's eyes. I wanted him. He wanted me. I closed my eyes and went in for the kiss.

It was sloppy.

It was messy.

It was wet.

I needed it. I loved it.

"Fuck, Martin." I leaned back and pulled him on top of me. We made out. Our hands roamed as our lips stayed pressed together. We maneuvered on the couch to where he was lying on top of me. I pushed his butt into my body. Our crotches were grinding.

Hard.

Grinding.

Hard.

I pulled his polo shirt over his head.

"Fuck, you're so hot," I breathed.

My fingers explored his chest hair. I squeezed it between my fingers, causing Martin to groan.

To my surprise. He stood. He grabbed my wrist and pulled me up off the couch. He pulled me toward his room. He let go of me to unfasten his pants. He stumbled but managed to get them off.

I tried to get out of mine, but I fell over trying to take them off. I laughed hysterically.

"Get up here, man," Martin instructed, patting the bed.

He was naked on top of the sheets. His cock was hard and jutting toward the ceiling.

"We were talking about Kenneth, and Martin was telling me how I'd find someone because I was nice and good looking. We were drunk, and the moment got away from us."

"But you remember it."

"I do. I can't honestly say it's completely accurate, but ... I remember us going after it."

"Nice cock, dude," I said.

"Thanks. I'm horny."

"I can tell." I belched. Then I attempted to let my boxers fall to the floor. They were tented outward. I stretched them hard to get them over my erection.

"Well, look how big you are."

"You're thicker."

"But you've got an inch on me — at least."

"Take it," I said, jumping on my knees next to him.

He reached for my cock and groped it. "Yeah," we both said.

I leaned to feel his hard-on. It felt meaty and thick. I liked everything about it. My hand massaged the firm flesh.

"Jerk it," he said.

I began stroking his cock. He groaned. The feeling of the veins and ridges in his rigid skin was heaven. He still had a grip on my own rod. He squeezed it tighter but didn't move.

I leaned over to put my mouth on his again. He removed his hand from my cock to grip both sides of my face, keeping it in place. My hand continued to stroke his stiff organ.

He moaned as we kissed.

"You're hot, Mitchell."

I knew he was drunk, and the smell of alcohol on his breath and skin confirmed it, but we didn't care. We were just fired up.

He broke our kiss. "Will you suck me?"

"Can't wait," I said.

I moved down to his crotch. I rubbed my nose in his bush and then smelled his cock and his balls. I inhaled and exhaled, taking in the masculine musk of his groin.

"Please, Mitchell."

I spit on his cock and then slid down the shaft. My mouth consumed it. My face consumed it. My lust consumed it.

"OH! Fuck YEAH!"

I moaned. The hum reverberated through his skin into his throbbing beam.

Martin snarled and howled as I continued to suck him. Our apartment had never had this type of sexual volume from either of us — at least when we were both home at the same time. I had heard him have sex once with a woman, barely, but I knew they were involved in it. Kenenth and I had been respectively quiet. Martin was a beast in this moment with me. I was checking all the boxes.

Except for a vagina.

I flopped down next to him, lying on my belly.

"I want you to rub your cock on my back. Rub it through my crack."

"I don't want to fuck," he said.

"I'm not ashking you to. Just rub it on me."

Hesitantly, Martin straddled my body. He rubbed his hard dick up my back and then back down.

"Like this?"

"I like it."

"Yeah." He rubbed his hard sausage firmly into my back.

Getting on stiff arms, he lifted his body and moved his cock down to my ass. It slid up and down my crack, but he made no effort to penetrate it. It just moved up and down through the crevice. He groaned. I wanted him to come on my back. I wanted to feel it cover me.

He changed that.

Forcefully, he rolled me over.

"I gotta have you suck it. Suck it some more. I need it."

He moved his body up to my face. He grabbed the headboard of his bed and thrust his cock into my mouth. I struggled not to gag.

"Fuck yeah, Mitchell."

He kept thrusting, but after a minute, he leaned back, holding on with one arm. The other reached for my dick and he groped it.

"Feels good, man."

"Mm-hm," I grunted into his flesh.

I loved sucking him. I loved being felt by him — this scruffy, straight cop.

After groping me for a minute, he let his body lean upward again. Both hands gripped the headboard, and he began fucking my throat in earnest. I had never heard a man so loud in sexual pleasure. Martin growled and moaned and screamed and barked and ... he was amazing. Or did I just think that because I was drunk?

"Holy fuck, Mitchell."

I groaned into his cock. I then reached for mine. I jerked my meat as I sucked on his.

"Fuck almighty, Mitchell."

I attacked my cock. My strokes were relentless.

"Jesus! This feels so fucking good, man."

My tongue tangoed with his cock, stimulating it in every way I knew how.

"Keep doing that! Keep doing that! Ohhhhh, man. OHHHHHHHHHHH! FUCK YES!"

Martin screamed so loud, I wondered if our neighboring apartments were questioning if he was being murdered. I felt the first blast of cum hit my throat, and I tried not to gag. I tried my hardest to accept the liquid, even though it was hard to swallow with my mouth filled with dick. More came. And more. Martin's thick cock kept unloading. He was apparently due for a good release.

When the liquid stopped, the volume began to subside but not quickly. It was still a loud moan, followed by loud gasping. Loud breathing. Loud sighing.

My hand held his butt to keep him from removing his penis from my mouth. I continued to tantalize it.

A minute later, his dick had retreated, and he moved it back. My hand was pounding my cock.

"Martin, move back. Stick your butt on top of my dick."

"You're not going to fuck me, are you?"

"No! Just do it."

He put his butt near my waist, and I positioned the head of my erection right at his crack. The mushroom shape nuzzled inside just the tiniest bit.

Then I screamed. And screamed. And screamed.

"Ooooooo," he said, as he felt my cum hit his pucker.

I continued crying out for several more seconds. Then I panted for oxygen.

Curiously, he didn't move away. He let the cum and the pressure of my cock just keep his ass company.

"I actually found that hot."

"I foun' you hot," I said.

He leaned down to kiss me. I grabbed his neck and shoved us together ... hard. We kissed for a solid minute.

Then he crawled off the bed. He reached for a sock to wipe his ass.

"Let's do bet'r than that," I said.

I came back with a wet cloth.

We turned off the lights and crawled into his bed together.

"We did a few things, but no heavy lifting, so to speak. We were just so horny. Lots of kissing. For a straight guy, he got into it."

"Then what?"

"He woke up in my arms. We slept together. Naked."

"Did that change things for the two of you?"

"Yes. A little. For a while. I'm not sure exactly."

"You don't know?"

"That morning after, he rustled around as he woke. I heard him groan as his hangover took hold. But I still had my arm around him."

"Who said something first?"

"I did. I said, `good morning.' He groaned in pain again. He put his hands on his forehead."

"What did he eventually say?"

"Well, I asked him a question. I asked him what he remembered. He said, `everything.' I told him I did too. `We got carried away,' I said. He agreed. Neither of us knew if we needed to apologize or talk about it or ... what."

"Did you ever?"

"Yeah. I gathered my clothes and took them to my room. We both showered. He didn't go in until the evening, but I think he felt ... grimy with alcohol and sex and sweat. I had to go to work though. I had a serious hangover, and, frankly, I wasn't my best at work."

"Keep going."

"Before I left, we both sat at the kitchen table. We didn't know what to say."

"About last night," Martin started. "Let's just keep that between us."

"Not a problem." I looked at him with a slight smile. "It was a bit impulsive."

"It's not my first time to do stupid things when I'm drunk."

"You've been in bed with a man before?"

"No. Not men. But ... lots of mistakes. I sometimes worry that I'll find out I'm a father someday when I'm fifty."

I chuckled.

"If it means anything to you, I thought you were great. It was crazy — the two of us — but I really enjoyed it," I said.

"I'd be lying if I said I didn't. You were pretty hot, Mitchell. It's not my thing ... but, handsome face, great body, great dick. I don't really regret it. Yes, it was a mistake. But I don't hate that it happened."

"I promise not to show up on your doorstep in fifteen years and tell you we have a son."

He laughed hard and then held his head. "Ow."

"We talked it out for a few minutes. He was okay with it. We both knew it was a crazy mistake, but he admitted that he enjoyed it. I don't think he was saying that just to make me feel good."

"This was your first time with a straight man. What did you feel? How did you feel about it?"

"I'm not sure. I can't say it was that different. A man is a man. I guess I was surprised that it actually happened, that Martin actually went through with it."

"Alcohol and enflamed hormones are a volatile cocktail. My other patients make that clear to me."

"I didn't have any grand desire after that to go after straight guys. I could have explored the apps to see if there were any curious ones out there, but that wasn't me. I was still hoping to find `The One' someday. That ruled straight guys out."

"I'm glad true love was a goal."

"It wasn't always. After Cruz and you, I sort of stopped trying for a while. Arlo awakened something in me — sparks — but nothing was really happening in the `just sex' experiences. Calvin and Kenneth had potential, but they broke it off."

"Earlier, you said, `twice.'"

"Yeah. The week following our sex romp, Martin was really sweet. He didn't say much, but his body language and an occasional touch was very caring. I mean, he was a cop, so I always thought of him as a tough guy. Nothing was sexual ... or even affectionate, actually. There was just a sensitive, caring side to him I hadn't seen before. A hand on my shoulder here, a smile there. It was like we shared something new. He didn't talk about that night. It was just like we shared something ... something secret and special. I found it sweet."

"Nice. But ... twice?"

"Oh yeah. We went drinking a week later, maybe two. Again. Drunk. Same place. We were totally shitfaced. More than the last time, which was pretty dang drunk."

"Did you initiate it or him?"

"Jeez, it was so long ago, and I was so smashed. I'm not sure. I don't remember it that well. Fragments really. I just remember us getting home just after 2. We closed the place down. I remember taking a leak and then I remember us just ... making out, standing in the middle of the living room. Kissing involved tongues and a lot of slobbering on our cheeks and necks. I can't be sure, but he grabbed my dick from the outside of my jeans to see if I was hard. I was kissing a scruffy cop, so ... yeah."

I noticed Logan rearranged his crotch.

"He kept rubbing my cock. It made me reach for his. We groaned a little in our kisses and then ..."

"Then?"

I tried hard to remember that night, but it was not one I committed to detailed memory. I'm sure the massive amount of liquor that night caused that.

"I don't remember everything. He wanted me to suck him. I remember that. Then he ... he wanted to suck me. That was new. Yeah. Now, I remember, we 69'd a while. He was naked and all muscle."

"Hot," Logan said beneath his breath. His slacks were noticeably tented. He scribbled something on a pad. It had to be erotic details and not counseling advice.

"It didn't really end well."

"Uh-oh."

"I had sort of ..." I paused. "Do you want to hear this?"

"Yes!" He lowered his voice. "Yes. If you wish to share."

"The first night, when I climaxed, I shot my cum in the crack of his ass. No penetration. We didn't do that the first night."

"The first night."

"Right. But he felt it ... there ... in his ass cheeks. He said he wanted to do that to me. I was drunk, and it sounded amazingly hot. Super hot. I was incredibly horny. He rubbed his dick up and down my ass crack. When he got close, he lined his cock up with my hole. I was ready to feel his cum coat the crevice of my ass. Then he pushed the head in. I jolted. He went all the way inside. All of him. I was wrenching in pain when he came inside me. It hurt."

"Yikes."

"He didn't mean to hurt me. He didn't know anything. After he came, he smothered me. His whole body weight was on me. He kept his cock inside me. I got used to it. I rolled him over, and it was hard enough to go back inside me. I rode it for a minute, but then his penis didn't cooperate. I just straddled his chest. As I was getting close to my own orgasm, I could tell the moment had passed for him. His body language was distant. I started to groan in my climax. He turned his head and closed his eyes. He didn't want to see me come."

"I'm sure that disappointed you."

"It did. We said nothing at all. I went to get a cloth and wiped him off. I told him I would head to my own room. There was no request to stay."

My face twisted into an uncomfortable expression of sorrow.

"The next day was a Sunday. We slept in. Late. Very late. When he got up, he went out to eat. We didn't do anything that day together. He came home in the evening, and we didn't really say much of anything. That went on for a couple of days. Eventually, that sweetness left him. For several weeks, at least. We would make simple conversation, but we never, ever mentioned either night ever again. He started bringing women home. I sometimes wondered if he did it just to prove to me — and himself — that he was completely straight."

"And how long did you share an apartment?"

"Overall, it was about two years. At that point, it was about a year and a few months more."

"Was it awkward?"

"In the beginning. Then we were normal roommates. But he never touched me again. He became serious with a girl, a woman, and they wanted to move in together."

"Did you stay in touch?"

"Not really. No."

It was a shame too. Kenneth was out of my life. Martin was. I hated that people that I had shared something with, moments of intimacy were just ... gone. But I guessed that was normal. I wondered how many people still saw lovers they slept with in the past. Probably not many. Did either of them ever think of me?

Or Calvin? Or Marq?

"If you could sit down with Martin right now, what would you like to say to him?"

"What do you mean?"

"If he was in that chair over there, is there anything unresolved you'd like to ask him?"

I thought about it. It was something I never would have asked myself. I rarely even thought of Martin.

"Maybe."

"What would you ask?"

"I don't know how I would phrase it. I kind of would like to know if our ... nights ... meant something to him. Was it totally meaningless? Was there a bond we shared, even for just a moment? Did he like it?" I looked at Logan. "Do you think he did?"

"I've never met him, so I have no idea. I don't think it would do any good for me to speculate."

"Speculate."

"Again, this is just a guess. He seemed to like it the first time. It was enjoyable. The second time, it might have made him afraid."

"Afraid? Of me?"

"Of himself. Straight men don't like thinking about men intimately. You guys shared something. You thought it was special. Deep down, he may have too — and it scared him."

"Really?"

"Again. That's just a guess. I've never met him."

"Do you have other gay patients who have slept with straight men?"

"I don't discuss other patients."

I grunted. "Whatever."

I did enjoy my nights of intimacy with Martin. I didn't remember them well, but I did like feeling connected to him on a higher level.

"Once we went our separate ways, we didn't ever see each other again. However, I happened to see him in a patrol car a couple of times. Part of me wanted to pull up next to him and say hi. Then I figured he would freak out and think, `Oh, that's the guy I stuck my dick in.' I never did."

"Do you feel a lack of closure?"

"No. It's closed. It just would be nice to know if he looks back on it as a good memory. But it was a mistake — we both know that. But I hope it was an enjoyable mistake for him. I guess I'll never know."

* * * *

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