My Big Fat Gay Life (4 page)

“Seriously,” I said to the hand on my cock, “does that ever work? Do you think I’m going to have sex with you right here and now? By not respecting me, all you’ll manage to achieve is make me not want to shower in public anymore.”

The hand recoiled as if stung. I finished my shower, dressed, and went to work.

* * *

My first job for the day was a regular weekly modelling gig at an arts college. I’m a life model slash nude waiter slash nude cleaner. As a naturist, I appreciate any chance to make money while not wearing clothes. As always, I’m happy for people to look but not touch. Today I was in a relaxed pose on a couch, so I was half asleep when my mobile phone rang.

“Sorry!” I said to the class. “I should get this.”

“Hi Honey,” said Ruth. “Can you meet for lunch today?”

“Sure!” I said excitedly. I rarely had the chance to see my girl during the working day. “Where and when?”

“Misfits at one o’clock.”

“I’ll be there. Love you!”

I hung up the phone and wandered around the classroom to look at the drawings the students were sketching of me. Some of them were excellent! There were some talented students who had captured my musculature well. Some of the girls giggled and blushed when I was close to them, and they also happened to be the ones with drawings that seemed to focus on my crotch, lacking any detail of the rest of me. I returned to the couch and assumed my pose for another hour.

After the class finished, I rushed to Misfits to meet Ruth. She was smiling, and there was a light flashing in her eyes. She kissed me as I sat down. She looked like she was going to burst.

“I’m pregnant!” she exploded.

We’ve never actually discussed having children, however one night, just over a year ago, as I reached for a condom during the throes of foreplay, she grabbed my hand and shook her head slightly. At five years my senior, Ruth’s body clock was ticking – loudly! At that time we’d been together a year, and we both knew it worked and was going to last. One small gesture, such as the slight shaking of a head, conveys entire conversations. I realised she wanted to try and have a baby. Did I want one too? I didn’t put on a condom.

Now, a year later, she was pregnant and I was elated! Another conversation we hadn’t had in that year was the fear that maybe we couldn’t have children for some reason. I stood up, picked her up, and whirled her around in delight.

After the excitement settled, we decided to have a real conversation.

“That explains your ramped up horniness,” I said, smiling. She nodded enthusiastically.

“I don’t think we should tell anyone until after the first trimester,” she said. “I’m not a spring chicken and want to be past the danger zone of miscarriage before we tell anyone.”

“We have to tell Sebastian,” I said.

“Of course,” she said. “He isn’t just anyone.”

“Can I please have some coffee?” I asked my secretary, Sue. I knew I was talking to her breasts, but I didn’t care: she must be used to it by now. My wife and I have a strict rule of never having sex with the staff: neither the domestic staff at the house, nor the professional staff at the offices. It’s such a nuisance having to replace them and train new staff when things go sour.

Sue had brought in the file for my next client, who was already waiting in the antechamber. She smiled and nodded graciously, then disappeared as quietly as she had entered. There was still some time to spare before the next appointment, so I decided to call my wife.

“Hello my little hell demon,” I purred after she’d answered the phone. Her maiden name was Heldon, from which I’d extrapolated her pet name many years ago. We’ve been married for nearly thirty-five years, and no matter how many times I’ve felt over the years that I couldn’t love her any more than I do, I always seem to find some new level.

“Donny,” She said. She was the only person who ever called me that. I didn’t actively dissuade other people from shortening my name, so I must project an atmosphere that intimidates people and gives them the impression that I only like to be called Donovan. Even my sexual partners over the years have screamed out ‘Donovan!’ in bed.

“How’s your day going?“ I asked Patricia.

“Good so far,” she replied. “I cleaned Sebastian’s apartment this morning, and now I’m having a pedicure.”

“I don’t know why you clean his place when you never lift a finger to clean ours,” I pointed out.

“That’s what staff are for,” she countered, making me laugh. We’ve had this discussion many times: I point out that if Sebastian needs help he can hire someone, then Patricia counters that she likes to feel useful. Sebastian and I have agreed to leave her be, at least for the immediate future.

“I found his cockring lying on the floor next to his bed this morning,” Patricia continued, “so I put it around Cujo’s neck as a collar. That should make him think that I’m sweet and naïve!”

“Oh, the mind games!” I exclaimed, laughing. “It’s good to keep him guessing.”

We bantered and exchanged pleasantries for a few minutes, and I smiled at Sue’s breasts as she brought in my coffee. I motioned for her to stay while I said my farewells to Patricia.

After I hung up the phone, I asked Sue’s breasts to send in Quentin. I’d heard a lot about Quentin from my son over the last six months, however I’d never met him. I never imagined our first meeting would be with him as my client.

I slipped into therapist mode as soon as Quentin walked through the door. I shut the door behind him and shook his hand warmly. “Please take a seat,” I said in my smooth counsellor voice, motioning to the comfortable armchair. I sat in the chair opposite.

“Before we start,” I said, “you should be aware that my son works for you at Rainbow’s End. I tell you this in the interests of full disclosure.”

“I know,” Quentin said. “He’s an excellent counsellor, and I’m hoping that the apple didn’t fall far from the tree.”

“Then maybe you should have made an appointment with my wife,” I said, laughing.

“Women scare me,” Quentin countered, joining in my laughter. “Especially strong assertive women.”

I questioned Quentin for a few minutes on his background and childhood, and then asked why he was here to see me.

“I think I’m losing a battle within myself,” he said. “Every time I discover a lost soul in the street, I struggle with myself over whether I should take them to Rainbow’s End for help, or whether I should take them home and fuck them, pay them, and send them back to the streets.”

“I see. Why do you think you are starting to lose this battle now?”

“There’s someone I work with who’s unlike anybody I’ve ever met. I have strong feelings for him, but I’m unable to tell him. This morning I discovered a runaway on the streets who reminded me of him. The resemblance in looks and mannerisms is remarkable! I was halfway to my place with the runaway when good sense kicked in, so I took him to Rainbow’s End and left him in Sebastian’s capable hands.”

“Have you ever taken the youths home instead of to Rainbow’s End?” I asked of Quentin.

“Rarely, but sometimes, yes,” he replied.

We set about the task of helping Quentin develop coping mechanisms to quash his almost paedophilic attraction to youths, and to help him attain the self confidence necessary for him to confess his feelings to the object of his affections at work.

Oh Sebastian! Those eyes. That body. That cock! I know you like me, and if your jealous boyfriend hadn’t barged in and kicked me out then I would’ve slept in your bed, wrapped up in your gorgeous arms, instead of beside this dumpster in the laneway next to your building.

It’s been a long time since anyone listened to me the way you did. Most of the time I feel invisible, which is probably a good thing considering I’ve overstayed my UK visa.

I realise that I stink, and I know my clothes could do with a wash. I also need some food. As part of my cunning plan, I ‘accidentally’ left my pre-paid cell phone (or mobile phone as they all it here… I have to start using the local lingo) in Sebastian’s bedroom. Now would be a good time to get it, and if the boyfriend isn’t there maybe another fuck and a shower could be on the cards.

The boyfriend doesn’t live with Sebastian, I’m sure of that. There’s only one toothbrush in his bathroom, and there was only one set of dirty dishes in the sink. The boyfriend might be majorly hot, but he’s also a total ass! How dare he kick me out like that? It’s not even his apartment! Sebastian deserves someone better. He deserves someone hot like him: somebody with a great personality like him.

Not wanting to be announced by the concierge, I skulked around near the door waiting for an opportunity to sneak into the building. The trick to getting places where you shouldn’t be is to appear confident, and to have a sense of urgency. You need to appear as though you know exactly where you are going, and that you have to be there in a hurry.

Through the plate glass wall of the lobby, I saw a resident depart the lift and head for the door. I timed my approach perfectly so that I was just a few feet away from the door when she opened it.

“Thanks!” I said brightly, grabbing the door handle and holding the door open for her.

“Awrite,” she said, smiling. Everybody here says that: I’m not sure if it means “thanks”, “good morning”, or “how are you?” I nodded my head at her, slipped inside the door, and made my way to the elevator.

Once on Sebastian’s floor I was struck with bad nerves and my stomach started to churn. What if the total ass is there? What if Sebastian isn’t there? If nobody’s there, maybe he left the door unlocked for me. Maybe the lock is easy to jimmy open.

There’s only one way to find out who’s there: I knocked.

A glamorous looking older lady opened the door. I decided she must be the cleaner, as she had a duster in her hand. When she was in Sebastian’s bedroom, looking for my mobile phone, I saw a tray full of keys on the hall table just inside the front door. One of them didn’t have a ring attached, so I tried it in the door and it worked. Sebastian must have left it out for me. I slipped it into my pocket just as the cleaner returned.

She’d found my phone for me, but there was no way I could ask her if I could shower and use the washing machine so I left.

As I was leaving the building I mentally kicked myself for not taking the cockring she’d offered: it would have had Sebastian’s smell on it!

* * *

I need to get Sebastian alone so I can find out the story with him and the total ass. Are they a serious couple, or is the ass just a jealous fuckbuddy? I settled down on a bench from where I can see the entrance to his building and, more importantly, see when he comes home.

A kind passing pedestrian threw a few coins onto my coat as she passed, and I smiled. Maybe if I collect enough change, I can put £5 credit on my phone so I can send Sebastian some text messages. I’m sure he won’t mind giving me his mobile phone number.

My stomach growled so - since I now had enough change to buy some food - I quickly wandered off to Tesco to get some day-old bread. I didn’t want to leave the bench for too long in case I missed Sebastian’s return.

As I was coming back with a bag of dry bread, I noticed Sebastian returning. He was hot and sweaty and had obviously been out for a jog. I was too far away to get his attention, so I assumed my position on the bench and waited for him to re-appear.

Shortly after, he emerged from the building again with his dog (or is it a rat?). I was suddenly overcome with shyness and couldn’t approach him, so I followed at a distance. I needed to summon up the courage to speak to him again.

With the dog walked, Sebastian went back inside. He came out again shortly after and took off with a purposeful stride. I followed him for thirty minutes to a place called Rainbow’s End. This must be where he works. I found another spot to settle down, wait and observe.

* * *

At some time during the morning, an older man with a deep orange fake tan exited the building and noticed me watching the building. He approached me.

“Are you building up the courage to go inside?” he asked. “I’m the supervisor of Rainbow’s End if you’d like to chat.”