Date: Sat, 22 May 2004 21:30:16 -0300
From: Ruthless <ruthless@nbnet.nb.ca>
Subject: Cupid 2

	Round about eight o'clock I was standing up in the twilight looking
out of my apartment window wondering if I was going to get to sleep
tonight. I should have been able to after the last two nights of getting up
and down and prowling around restlessly from room to room. I could feel the
edge of fatigue in my shoulders, which should have meant deep and sudden
sleep, but I could also feel the same tightness at the base of my skull
that had kept me pretty much awake around the clock for the last two
days. That tension didn't seem to go away. I couldn't stop replaying the
moments in my head: Me, on my knees scrabbling towards HT and the gun; the
ambulances pulled up between the black and whites on the street below; the
wet dark stains from the sprinkler in the sodden carpet; the pink and
puckering mouth of the bawling receptionist.

	It wasn't the scariest moments that kept coming back. It wasn't the
moments of panic when half the office had been screaming, struggling and
kicking to get through the door. It wasn't the sound of shots. It wasn't
that kind of stuff. It was almost the trivial details. I'd get an image of
that crumbly dried smear of brown blood on Ron Thompson's hand. I kept
thinking of that stupid artificial fichus tree that had stood in the hall
with us during the five hours when I'd been a hostage. Or Ron stripped
naked, standing on one foot, pulling me off balance, wearing only one
sock. We'd both made it out alive, but the one set of images, which kept
coming back to me over and over were full of Ron Thompson.

	This is why I should have recognized his voice when he called me.

	The phone rang, I picked it up and a man's voice asked, "Gordon?"

	"Yeah?"

	He didn't say anything, long moments, long enough for me to squint,
switch the phone to my other ear and think, well it's not another cop
calling about getting another revision on my statement. The cops would have
used my last name and they would have known what to say. Who the hell is
it?

	"Are you okay?"

	"Christ! Ron!" I almost dropped the phone. "Man! Yeah, I'm
okay... Are you?"

	"Well, yeah. I'm fine." He said.

	I switched ears again, as if that would make me able to hear him
better. I could hear him as plain as plain. "You back home?" I
said. "Looked after? You didn't take any hurt, right? I mean, it was HT's
blood, right? You're fine?"  I stopped short. Of course he was home and of
course he wasn't hurt. They'd taken him off in another police car, not an
ambulance. I sounded inane.

	But Ron's voice didn't tighten up at my babbling. He sounded
amused. "Yeah, I'm doing okay, Gordon. I just wanted to make sure you were
doing alright..." He paused. "What do you mean, HT's blood?"

	"Uh..." I had been remembering the tiny scarlet pin dots spattered
over the side of Ron Thompson's face after the police bullets had hit HT in
the side of the head. "When they shot him there was a little bit of blood,
got in the air. I think it hit you."

	"Oh."

	He didn't know. How could he? When we'd landed in the road he'd
rubbed his face on my jacket and the blood had come off. "Yeah, well it
wasn't much blood, like just a couple of dots. I knew it was from him, not
you." I was still flailing.

	I heard the man take a breath. "Hey Gordon... I was wondering. You
want to meet somewhere, someday? I just want to talk to you about it, you
know, about HT."

	"Right." I said. I knew what he really wanted as soon as he said
that. While we were waiting for the stand off to end HT had gotten bored
and mean, and demanded we screw around. And that was when Ron had made me
promise I wouldn't tell anyone. I knew what he wanted and I could have
reassured him, told him right over the phone that he was okay. I wasn't
going to tell anyone about the sex. That was all I had to say. But I didn't
say it.

You see I wanted to see Ron Thompson, just for a few minutes. Talking to
him, that was nearly enough, but I wanted really badly to see him, just for
a few minutes, so I could see him with my own eyes. There wasn't any other
way I could do it. After all, it wasn't like he'd be finishing his co-op
placement, with the company indefinitely closed pending re-organization. I
wasn't going to see him again unless I took this chance. This way I could
get the guy out of my head.

	"Sure." I said. "Where do you want to meet?"

	"Neutral ground?" Suggested Ron.

	"Dunkin Donuts?" I said.

	"That would do." He agreed. "Only I was hoping some place a little
more private, so we could say a couple of things, not be overheard."

	That confirmed it. He wanted me to make my promise again.

	"The one on Orange Garden Avenue is pretty quiet," I said. "At
least in the evening..."

	"Is it too late to meet tonight?" He said.

	That was how I ended up sitting in the Dunkin' Donuts, bobbing a
jelly donut I really didn't want up and down in a cup of coffee I
definitely didn't need. I got there before Ron did. He lived somewhere over
the other side of the university.  I had time to wonder how the heck he got
my phone number. Normally he could have just got it through the
receptionist at switchboard, but pending new carpets, new computers and a
couple of new people in middle management positions I was out of a job and
the company phone was being picked up by an answering machine.

	I sat there thinking of ways to tell Ron that his secret was safe:
"It never happened." I'll never forget it, either.  Or maybe I should just
apologize that it had happened at all. "I'm sorry HT forced me to fuck
around with you." You have a beautiful cock. "Just because you were forced
to mess around with me doesn't mean you're a fag."  You got a hard on
before I did. No, nothing I thought of was the right thing to say. I knew
what I should say, but I kept thinking of what I wanted to say instead.

	By the time Ron came in I had prepared a dozen different ways to
apologize and screwed up on all my mental rehearsals. He was wearing a
brown jacket. He glanced about until he found me, turned sideways to get
around the tray holder at the end of the booths and came and sat down. His
lips were held in straight little line. He didn't say anything. He just
looked at me and sat there looking. Ron was just as tongue-tied as I was.

	Spit out that apology, I ordered myself.

	"Thank you." Said Ron.

	Breath half way out of my mouth I stopped short. "For what?'

	He pulled in just a little tighter. "Oh, for meeting me here
tonight so I could get another look at you. And for trying to keep in the
front, between me and HT all those times."

	I was so floored I must have looked goofy. I said, "I thought you'd
want an apology for what HT made us do together!"

	"No," he said. "No. We both did what we had to. We had to follow
his orders.  Jubal and Mike Stewart and Crayman Turnicott were dead. If
either of us had said no to him he might have put bullets in us too."

	I remembered then how different his experience was from mine. HT
had killed, not just taken hostages. Ron had been the first one he had
forced to walk through the building with him rounding up the
survivors. He'd been the one who had knelt on the carpet beside the three
dead men, with HT's gun against the side of his head. For me the
humiliation of being forced to suck cock at gunpoint had been the
worst. But he'd been seeing the experience in a different way
altogether. He was finding it harder to forget how close he'd come to being
murdered, than that he'd been ordered to play with my prick.

	"You look okay, Ron." I said. "You look like you're not fucked
up. Right?"

	"Yeah, I bounce back fast." He said. "I fell apart a couple of
times while it was all going on, but I got over the panic as soon as it was
over."

	"You didn't panic." I said.

	"You know what I mean." He grew shamefaced. "Like I got you to hold
my hand when we came out of the elevator. And I couldn't look at him after
I shot him. I just couldn't. His... his fucking head was off. I wanted a
happy ending, you know what I mean? And it was just sick. The whole side of
his head was gone."

	I gave a nod. I knew what he meant.

	"I wasn't able to be as tough as you. I didn't have the balls. But
you –I mean that's really why I wanted to see you. Just to let you
know. The whole time he had us sitting in the hall you were being patient,
trying to keep him distracted, talking to you.  And you let me hold your
hand like that. I know I'm a pussy. But fuck, I couldn't tell which way
we'd get hit from. The cops shooting us, or HT shooting us. You didn't have
to keep trying to make him look at you instead of at me. But I really
fucking appreciate your courage doing that." His voice grew thick.

	"You weren't a pussy." I said. "Holding my hand. Fuck, I wanted to
hold your hand too."

	"Anyway." He said with a deep breath. "I got a good look at you
again. And now I know my feet are on the ground. You're really alive; I'm
really alive. I can walk away from this."

	The clatter of trays was behind us, and the smell of coffee around
us, and it was all orange Formica. "I wanted to see you too," I said
quietly. "And to apologize for sucking your dick."

	He leaned in, not leaning away. "Thanks." Said Ron with a crooked
smile. He had such a mobile mouth. Every time he changed expression, half
smiles, wry smiles, tight, controlled fear, all that was visible in the
flicker of his expressive lips. "I guess that sucking means a lot more to
me than it does to you." He said. "You've done that stuff before. I had no
experience at all compared to you. But I'm learning." He added humorously.

	"You didn't hold it against me?" I said.

	"Oh I held it against you." He cracked a joke, still speaking
quietly. "The handcuffs made sure I held it against your leg or your butt
every time either one of us moved. You sure you're not sore at me for
accidentally humping your leg every time you tried to stand up? Man! What a
place to have to work up a hard on!" His voice kept dropping and he kept
leaning closer. "I don't know what I'd have done if you weren't such an
expert cocksucker. That wasn't the best way to lose my gay virginity."

	"You're not gay." I said.

	"I'm not –much." He agreed. "I never had a chance to fool about
with another guy since my boy cousin..." He broke off and twisted around
sideways uncomfortably. There was no one near us, just three guys at
another table engrossed in a newspaper, but Ron couldn't talk. His mouth
quirked again. "This is just not private enough."

	"We could go outside. I mean if there's anything you want to say."

	So we went outside. He never even ordered coffee and I left an
overflowing cup full of soggy donut on the tray. We stood outside in the
cool night air; stars above hammered glittering on the sky, and car
headlights sweeping around ghostly and blue. He told me about his boy
cousin. There wasn't so much to tell. They'd been barely into their teens,
and the other kid had desperately wanted something, but neither of them
quite knew what he could want, or how they could do it. From the sound of
it they had spent most of a summer hanging out together, not having sex and
not thinking about anything else. Ron told me this as we walked along
really slowly. He told me about his boy cousin being sure if they got a
hold of a porn magazine they could use it for an instruction manual, but
they never got a hold of one. By and by we stopped talking and stood by a
bare brown hedge amid the dead yellow winter grass, and Ron told me that
his boy cousin had turned out straight, the guy already had two and a half
kids, and he took an amazing number of business related weekend road trips
to San Francisco.

	"We weren't boyfriends, or nothing like that," he said. "We were
way too young."

	And then he said, "You got a man, Gordon?"

	"No." I said.

	"You do casual sex a lot?" He asked.

	"Not a lot." I said.

	Ron looked up at the building above us with the mostly dark
windows. His collar was up and his chin line was smooth and he said. "I'm
not gay. I couldn't be gay. My dad would die."

	He looked down again. "I mean that." He said. "Literally. He'd take
another heart attack or something."

	Then he looked at me and said, "Why are we standing here?"

	"I live here." I said.

	"Can I come up?" Ron asked.

	We walked up, me looking back at him. I didn't know what he wanted
or how far he wanted to take it, but I had figured the deal out. He didn't
want me coming onto him, but he wanted to be seduced. When we got inside my
lights were off and we tripped over the carpet. We blundered over across to
the couch and sat down on it and Ron said, "If you want to get some sex,
how do you do it? I mean, is there a place where you pick guys up?"

	"I don't do that much." I said. "There's bars."

	"Yeah." He said. "Like, how do you make sure you're not going to
get rolled or gay bashed or nothing?"

	"You just size the guy up before you go anywhere with him." I said.

	"And size matters, right.' He smiled again, faint in the dark,
cracking another joke. "What do you call it, being a size queen?"

	"Yeah." I agreed. "But that terms a bit old."

	"My size, was that big enough for you?"

	"You've got a beautiful cock." I said. I said what I'd been
thinking while I sat in the donut shop.

	"Can I see yours?" he asked.

	I took it out. It was hard by then. He slid off the couch onto his
knees in front of me and touched it tentatively. He leaned in, traced his
fingers down the side of my shaft and made me shudder with their warmth. He
breathed on me a moment before he nuzzled me with his lips.

	"You want a rubber on it?" I figured as soon as I said it he'd
flinch and back off.  He'd remember how gross it was, how he wasn't gay,
and he was only looking. But I said it anyway, because I wasn't going to
let him forget the rules about putting a cock in your mouth.

	"Not yet." He said.

	Then he started licking me, up and down the side of my prick,
staying down from the pee-slit. His tongue slid smoothly up and down. I'd
been keeping my hands back, to myself, because I didn't want to make him
flinch back. Now I laid them both on his shoulders and he sighed. I rubbed
his shoulders through his brown jacket while he tongued my prick.

	He started on my clothes, getting my pants open. I lifted my ass up
when he tugged and he got my pants down on my thighs. He took my balls in
his fingers and rubbed them while he tongued on my shaft.

	"You're so clean." He said.

	"Hmm?" I said surprised.

	"I mean, normally if you can smell a guy, he smells pretty raunchy,
if you're on a bus or something and you get close enough. But you've got a
clean smell. I thought it would smell stronger."

	"Well, I showered." I said.

	"I'm going to want that rubber soon." He said.

	But then he stood up and dropped his pants. I figured he wanted me
cocksucking him again. I leaned in. I took it in my mouth. I didn't mind
taking his prick bare into my mouth again. I already had. I just wasn't
going to let him take mine bare into his. His cock was soft tipped, hard
shafted, salt and male. I slid him down my throat and heard him exhale. He
arched his back and jutted his hips forward for me. And then he climbed on
top of me so I could lean back and he reached down and rubbed me while I
sucked him.

	But he wanted to explore, so he took it out of my mouth and began
pulling all my clothes off. I pulled on his and he glanced at me and let me
pull and he tugged hard at mine until all I had on was my shirt bunched up
under my shoulders. He took his own clothes off while he knelt on the
couch, straddling my leg with the hard length of his cock sliding against
the top of my thigh.

	Then he wanted to explore my ass and he did that, taking my ass
cheeks in his hand and rubbing them, and all the while softly humping,
bumping the hard head of his dick into me, bump, bump, until I grabbed the
shaft in my hand and I worked him, jerking him. Then he thrust into my hand
and nuzzled my cock again.

	I was so hard my tip was getting sticky and every time he moved
over me my cock swayed. Ron kept taking my cock in his hand and rubbing it
against him. But he didn't take my cock into his mouth. Instead he sort of
turned around sideway and started rubbing my prick against his hip and
against one cheek of his ass. He had a tight, smooth ass, almost boy
like. But he wasn't boy like, with the taut muscles in his legs, and the
swell of his adult jaw and shoulders. And his crotch wasn't boy-like at all
with the thick size of his prick and the full fuzz-covered orbs below
them. He squeezed my cock as he rubbed it against his ass. I was breathing
hard.

	I got up, pushing him off. He slid off the couch and sat there on
the floor, smiling at me crookedly and hopefully while I went into my
bedroom to get some rubbers. I got them from the dresser, and when I had
them in my hand, about to turn around he landed on my back, cock up into
the crack of my ass, arms around my chest and shoulders, breath moist and
tickly on the back of my neck. He humped my ass. I couldn't walk with him
like that, so I just turned around and we toppled onto the bed.

	He humped harder, driving it against my ass and the back of my
leg. I pulled apart, trying to get the condoms out. He joined me at that,
taking the package. I tore it open; he took it from my fingers and bent
over my tall swaying stalk. He licked, laid the condom in place and licked
again. He rolled it down. I dumped him on his back and got the second
condom on his prick, sucking and slurping as I put it in place.

	"Oh man!" Ron groaned. "Teach me how to cocksuck? Okay, Gordon?"

	I gulped and guided him down. He sucked me. I guided his head. I
worked him up and down. He used his tongue. I'd tighten my hands to show
him it was getting more intense. His eyes were seamed shut as he bobbed on
my prick. Ron slid up and down hard. He sucked blind, concentrating on the
sensations in his mouth, nostrils flaring with the strokes. I stroked the
side of his head, controlling his speed. I needed it hard. I was getting
near cumming but he gasped.

	"Do me again...?"

	So we broke apart again and I got between his legs. I took his
tall, latex covered cock into my mouth. I cupped his balls while I gave him
head. I went up and down, a smooth building rhythm.

	"Oooh. Rub my ass!' Ron gasped. "'Kay? Please Gordon?" So I got him
half on his side so I could grip and squeeze his ass cheeks. He ground into
my mouth, humped back into my hands with his ass, back and forwards,
groaning and gasping. "Uh, fuh...  Uh, Fuck me with your finger." He
gasped.

	I got one up, poked and got it where he was clamping and tight and
his groans grew frantic. I only used one. He was squirming hard, cock
sliding right down my throat so I swallowed with every stroke. His legs
were clutching me around the body like he was riding a horse while he
thrust with his hips. I kept the rhythm building, tightening and sucking
harder. I slid on his cock until he lost control of his breathing.

	"Uh...uhhh!" His whole body shuddered as Ron came. His cock had
trembling spasms in my mouth. I kept the suction as he stopped thrusting
and froze with his hips ground forward so my nose was in his belly. The
shocks vibrated through him. He quivered into stillness.

	I got my mouth off him, feeling the big soft bulge of fluid in the
condom tip. He lay out, chest heaving, eyes rolled back.  His hand pawed
the air reaching for me, too knocked out by cumming to reach effectively. I
lay myself on top of him, prick against his hip again. Ron's skin was
blazing warm.  His heart was thudding. I kissed his neck, watching him
recover. He was so sexy laid out like that. He was still just lolling on
his side when I started humping his ass.

	He gave a moan. I kept humping, watching him closely for reaction.

	"I want to fuck your ass, Ron." I said.

	He gave another moan. He wasn't pulling away from me.

	"I'm going to fuck your ass." I said.

	"Do it." He said. "Do it... easy. Make it good for me. Use lots of
lube. I've never been fucked. Show me I'd have been alright if you'd done
it then."

	I kept humping him while I squeezed on the cheeks of his butt. He
got up on all fours when he felt the cold touch of the lube. "Eee..." He
gasped. "Wow." I worked it in his crack. I probed at his opening. I smeared
it on the condom on my prick.

	"Drill me." Ron said in a voice that trembled.

	"Okay." I said. But I worked my fingers in his ass while I humped
him instead. I did that, massaging, loosening his virgin hole. I kept it up
while he stayed on all fours waiting for it, head bobbing with the thrust
of my fingers.

	"Oh god..." He groaned.

	I got my cock in place and humped.

	"Uh..."

	I pushed my cock in: tightness, the warmth of his butt cheeks, the
firm peeling back sensation as pushing into his hole pulled back my skin. I
worked it inch by inch, watching him minutely. He could take it. He pushed
back while I pushed in. A great shaking inhalation rode with my
penetration. I drove it steadily up until I had my cock encased in his ass
all the way. Body heat enveloped my prick.

	Thrusting made Ron breath deep and spread his legs. I began the
rhythm, slow for the first four or five strokes. Then I started
hammering. The man grunted and pushed back
hard. Stroke... stroke... stroke... He stayed clamping tight, just eased
enough that I could move it smoothly by leaning on him hard. He was
clutching the wrinkled bedcovers under him. I fucked him smooth and
steadily, getting faster. Faster.

	"Yeah..." Ron said.

	Deeper and deeper, steady and hard, I ran my cock into his
asshole. He fell onto one shoulder, back tilting as he reached under
himself to grab his own cock. He clutched himself, while I fucked him. I
kept it going ass-fucking Ron until great breaths were making me rock back
and forth. His ass muscle was clamping, squeezing. My load was getting
ready. I opened my mouth wide, working so hard that I felt the sweat shine
on my belly and chest. The shock came down so that I felt my balls
tightened, felt them clench in that perfect tightness. Wave after wave of
my surging cum pulsed up and out, into the man's ass. The pulsing shocks
made me shudder. Ron kept pushing back at me until the last shockwave had
passed.

	My prick popped out of him with a wet sound as we both
collapsed. He looked over his shoulder at me, a sly smile now, a little
twist of satisfaction on his face. I closed my eyes, drunk with the warmth
of his body.

	I felt him moving after a few moments. I almost tightened my arm
instinctively to keep him there, but I didn't want to hold him down if he
wanted to get up. He was seeing to the rubbers. He looked after his own
first, and then he looked after mine. I let him take it off me, opening my
eyes to see him. I was smiling amazed by his long, lean young body. He
tossed the condoms, looking at my face, smiling back and climbed onto the
bed again. He climbed not just onto the bed, but on top of me. He sat
straddling me, looking down.

	"Now that's going to be better to remember than the gun being
pointed at us." He said.

	I nodded.

	"That's your reward for being so decent with me when we were
hostages." He said. "It's not much. I think you deserve more, but it's what
I had I could give you."

	"You didn't have to do it." I said.

	"Okay, it was my reward then for getting through it alive." Said
Ron. "Thanks, Gordon." He leaned close. For a moment I thought he was going
to kiss me, but he chickened out. He drew back again, looking embarrassed.

	"You think you could teach me how to cocksuck a bit better. I still
don't know how you take it so deep." He remarked.

	"I could try." I said.

	"I'd like you to try." Ron told me. "Can we be jerk-off buddies?"
He said.

	"We sure can." I agreed.

	"Can we be monogamous jerk-off buddies?" He said. "For awhile,
anyway?"

	"Absolutely." I said.

	Which is how I ended up with Ron Thompson, sharing an apartment. We
shared the apartment purely to save on expenses, of course. And we shared a
bed, purely because cumming is more intense when you do it with another
person, and not because he had any gay tendencies to distress and alarm his
family whatsoever. On the other hand, as I told him, I'm not sure how he
could ever justify the extravagant little love letters he wrote to me,
particularly the one I got three weeks later, just before the middle of
February. But the main thing is the love letters never left the apartment
and never fell into his family's hands.

	"I do like eating your crotch hair." Ron said.

	"Don't be gross." I said.

	"Can I eat some now?"

	"Alright." I said.

	"You know," said Ron. "I'm sorry for HT. I forgive him, right? He
was a nasty asshole. What he did to other people... Mike Stewart's wife,
she was a wreck at the funeral. Like, there's no excusing him for that. But
I forgive him what he did to me."

	"I forgive him what he did to me." I said. "I'm not sure I forgive
him what he did to you."

	"There's no point holding a grudge.' Said Ron. "Kick your shoes
off. I want to get your pants down all the way."