My Big Fat Gay Life (39 page)

I moved around to the other side of the table and oiled up the left side of Rory’s body. Again, my cock brushed against the back of his hand repeatedly. His hand flexed and released. I quickly stood on my toes and dropped my cock into his relaxed fist, and he grasped it almost by reflex.

“Oh I’m sorry,” I said, withdrawing my cock from his grasp.

“It’s OK,” his muffled voice emerged from under the table.

“I can put on some underwear if you want,” I told him.

“It’s fine,” he said.

I moved to the head of the table and started some long slow effleurage strokes, down his shoulders and back to his butt and back again. As I reached down to his butt, I allowed my cock and balls to drag across the back of his head. He flinched slightly, but only the first time.

As I massaged out the knots and tension in Rory’s back, I continued to torment him with my cock. It rubbed against his shoulders, rested next to his ears, and slapped his hip. He squirmed, but didn’t once complain. I grew hard from the teasing, and it started poking him.

“Can you turn over?” I eventually asked him.

“Why?” he asked. “It’s just my back that’s the problem.”

“I’d like to do some stretches and manipulations with your legs to help ease the strain in your back.”

He was silent.

“If you’re worried or embarrassed because you have a hard-on, don’t stress. It’s normal,” I told him.

“OK,” he said, his voice sounding reluctant even through the face hole.

He lifted his head and slowly rotated onto his back. His cock was enormous: and it looked even bigger because of his small frame. It stuck out over his belly button at a forty-five degree angle, and pre-cum was leaking from its tip.

“I’m just going to do the front of your shoulders,” I told him, sounding like a total professional.

I stepped in close to his left shoulder, and my hard cock bounced on his forehead. His eyes were closed, and they tightened even further. I worked his shoulder for a few moments, my cock ‘accidentally’ hitting him regularly, and then moved around to his right shoulder. As I moved in, he turned his head to the right and opened his eyes. They widened in surprise as my cock moved in. He opened his mouth and the tip of my cock slipped in.

“Fuck!” I exclaimed, feigning shock and pulling back slightly. “I’m so sorry! It gets in the way sometimes. I didn’t see you were yawning.”

“I wasn’t yawning,” he responded. Having said that, he reached up with his right hand and wrapped it around my cock, then guided his mouth to my cock. With his left hand he grabbed his own cock and started pumping it.

I stood there quietly, not wanting to move and startle him. I silently congratulated myself on the success of my little experiment, and then debated what to do next. He wasn’t my type, and I wasn’t turned on sexually at all. The only reason I had a hard-on was because of the rubbing and touching.

Before I could make a decision, Rory moaned quite loudly and arched his back. He blew a load of cum. The first spurt arced in the air, shot over his head and off to the left. The rest of the cum landed on his stomach.

He sat bolt upright, and I handed him a towel. His eyes were wide with panic.

“I’m sorry!” he exclaimed, jumping off the table and throwing on his clothes. “Please don’t tell anyone!”

I chuckled to myself as he fled from the apartment.

* * *

At 4pm I was approaching the address that Justin had given when I saw him arriving from the opposite direction.

“Nice to see you,” he said, giving me a hug.

“Are you sure it’s OK for me to be here?” I asked him, looking at the building. It was a private house, not a school like I’d assumed it would be.

“Yeah no problem,” he replied.

He rang the doorbell, and a middle-aged lady answered the door. Justin greeted her as Mary and introduced me as his friend, explaining we needed to chat while he modelled. She nodded consent with a smile and led us through the house to what was obviously her studio. Justin stripped as we walked down the hallway, leaving a trail of clothes back to the front door.

“What are we doing today?” he asked Mary when we’d arrived in her studio.

“Plaster cast,” she responded, turning to her table to prepare the mixture.

“Usual place?” he asked her. She nodded.

“No problem,” Justin said. “Just give me a few minutes.”

Justin reclined on a table and started stroking his cock, chatting to me the whole time as though he were doing something mundane, such as folding laundry.

“Mary is an erotic artist,” he explained. “Sometimes she paints me. Sometimes she sculpts me. Sometimes she does body casts. Sometimes she covers me in body paint. You’d think she’d be bored with my hard cock after all this time!”

Looking at the cock in his hand, I couldn’t imagine anyone being bored with it. It may not grow any bigger when hard, but it’s still an impressive sight. My own cock grew hard in response.

“OK ready,” he told Mary, proffering his erect cock for her attention. She approached the table where he was lying with a bowl of white plaster.

“Now what’s on your mind?” Justin asked me as Mary started applying plaster to his penis with her hands.

“For some strange reason, I can’t seem to remember right now,” I responded. Both Justin and Mary chuckled.

“Just ignore what’s going on down there and talk to me. Look me in the eyes,” Justin said.

Very, very reluctantly I drew my gaze up from his cock to his face.

“Is this the first time you’ve seen me hard?” he asked me. I just nodded. “Well get over it! It’s just a cock. You’ve seen more than your fair share before.”

Taking a deep breath and trying to ignore the fact he was sexually excited, I told Justin my idea of becoming a nude model and cleaner. “But I don’t want to tread on your toes,” I finished.

“That’s a great idea!” he responded enthusiastically. He turned to Mary. “What do you think? Would you like to slather goo all over his cock?”

Mary nodded: she was obviously a woman of few words.

“With my counselling studies and work at the rape crisis centre, I have more work than I can deal with right now,” Justin continued. “I’d be happy to pass on a few clients or share a few with you.”

“That’s very generous of you,” I told him, letting out a sigh of relief. “I was worried you’d think I was trying to steal your business.”

“You’re a very different type to me,” Justin said, grinning. “Chances are if they like you, then I wouldn’t be their type. And vice versa. Although some people just aren’t fussy, like Mary here.”

Mary just nodded her head. She’d finished applying the plaster and was wiping her hands.

“What’s this cast for?” Justin asked her.

“A client wants it for a door knocker,” she replied.

* * *

When Ian arrived home that evening, I was dressed in full domination regalia.

“Horny huh?” he asked me, eyeing the leather outfit, the riding crop, and the thoroughly engorged cock erupting from the front of my leather chaps.

“You wouldn’t believe the day I had,” I said. Then I broke into my master persona. “Get in that bedroom bitch!”

“Yes Sir,” he responded.

“How’s Kyra?” I asked Justin as I strained for the ball. As per usual, Justin looked as fresh as a flower and I was dripping sweat all over the squash court.

“She’s delightful!” he replied, returning the ball yet again. “She sleeps through the night. She never cries. And she smiles!”

I missed the ball and stopped to take a few deep breaths. I put my hands on my knees and leaned forward, trying to draw more air into my lungs. As I looked up at Justin, his face beamed with pride.

“I’m going to have coffee with Ruth and Kyra today,” I told Justin between gasps for air. “Do they need anything?”

“Not as far as I know,” he replied. “Come on you wimp, let’s play!”

Justin ran me around the court for the next half hour. His crowd of admirers in the gallery above seemed larger than normal today: possibly due to the tight white boxer briefs he was wearing. The assembled crowd seemed mesmerised every time he moved, his bulge swaying and bouncing with every movement.

“I must admit I’m a little concerned about Ruth,” he said as we left the court: the torture was over for today. “She’s seems flat lately.”

“I’ll check her out,” I told him, “but I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about. It’s a huge adjustment you’re both going through.”

I kissed him farewell as he headed off to tease his onlookers in the shower. I staggered home, and was surprised to find Rory there.

“Don’t you have work today?” I asked him as I headed into my room for a shower.

“I’m taking a day off sick. My back’s a bit sore,” he replied. He’d followed me into my bedroom and was talking to me as I stripped off my clothes. Over the weeks he’d been staying with me, I’d grown used to his presence. If the sight of a naked man didn’t faze him, then I wouldn’t let it worry me.

“Why don’t you come to lunch with me and Kento today?” I asked him as I stepped under the stream of hot water.

“Sounds good,” he replied. “I have an appointment this morning, but I’ll be back before you leave. See you!”

Rory left, leaving me to enjoy the scalding hot water rushing over my body. I felt my shoulders relax and the knots in my forearm release. I wondered how long the hot water would last.

I’m at such a loose end. I don’t know what I’m doing, and I have no clear path before me. I’d resigned from Rainbow’s End: the memories there were far too painful. Now I felt as though I were cast adrift, just bobbing along aimlessly.

I only have one client these days: Matt. He’s resistant, but I’m determined to help him make the most of his lot in life.

Patricia had tried to tempt me back to Rainbow’s End, but my heart wasn’t in it. If I’m to be perfectly honest with myself, I’m going through a crisis in my own personal development. How can I help others when I don’t even know what’s wrong with me?

* * *

After my shower, I wandered the streets aimlessly. I had no set destination: I just let my feet lead the way. Eventually they stopped, and when I looked up I noticed I was standing outside the gay sauna.

I’d found myself here a lot lately. Meaningless sex helped while away the hours. I was bored: so bored. I opened the door and went inside.

After paying the entrance fee and finding my locker, I stripped off my clothes and wrapped the tiny towel around my waist. Instead of heading to the steam room or the hot tub, I proceeded directly upstairs to the seedier sections of the club.

I investigated a few rooms and stopped to watch a couple having sex. I shook my head at an invitation to join the rutting couple and kept meandering through the warren of corridors and rooms. Eventually I found a room with a single guy in it. He held out a condom toward me and licked his lips. Then he rubbed his nipples.

I shuddered. Such a blatant display of desperation is a total turnoff for me. I shook my head and turned away to leave the room.

“Fill me with your hot love juice,” he said. I turned back and shrugged.

He had nice enough biceps and pecs, so I removed my towel to expose my erection. I rolled the condom over my cock and slapped on some lube, then fucked the stranger with no passion or feeling.

After a couple of hours of passionless, meaningless sex with multiple partners, I left the sauna. I felt hollow inside: totally unfulfilled. Although I’d had three orgasms, I didn’t feel as though I’d made love. I walked back to my apartment, slowly and without paying any attention to my surroundings.

* * *

After lunch with Kento and Rory, I walked to Ruth’s apartment. The first things I noticed after she’d opened the door were the black bags under her eyes. She obviously wasn’t sleeping well: probably due to having a newborn baby to feed during the night.

I cradled Kyra in my arms as Ruth made coffee, feeling alive for the first time today. The baby seemed so full of promise and potential, with a life ahead of her that was full of hope and dreams. Why did my own life suddenly feel so devoid of those qualities?

When the coffee was ready, I gently placed Kyra in her cradle for a nap. As soon as the bundle left my arms, I felt the life force drain out of me. I sat on the sofa sipping my coffee, attempting to make conversation with Ruth.

“Is Kyra sleeping through the night?” I asked her.

“Yes,” Ruth replied. “She’s a good baby.”

Ruth appeared as lacklustre and lifeless as I felt, but I put the observation down to projection. I was seeing in her what I felt in myself, and it wasn’t true or valid.

The conversation felt strained, and I left as soon as I’d finished my coffee. Ruth was fine, and she appeared to be coping well. I didn’t need to sit there and see myself reflected back at me from her eyes. I didn’t want her to see the lost look in my eyes.

If I want to look in a mirror, I have a perfectly good one at home.