If By Chance
Chapter Two
By Nick
Warning:
This story contains sex between consenting adult males. If reading such material offends you, close this window. If reading this story and others like it is illegal where you live, write your congressman.
"Gerald,
you need to calm down," I said, trying to be rational in the face of his
hysteria, but there was no getting through to him, especially at two in the
morning.
"How?"
he demanded tearfully, and all I could do was wrap my arms around him
sympathetically. "I feel like my life just went up in smoke. What now?"
The look
of devastation on Gerald's face was gripping, and I felt horrible. Seeing him
that way made me wonder how I would feel in a similar situation. I mean, yeah,
I've had some major disappointments in my life, but I don't think I took it as
hard as Gerald. He wasn't accepting the situation as easily as I would have,
but then again, I dealt with major blows differently.
This was
definitely not going to be his day
"The
first thing you need to do is call your insurance company," I told him matter
of factly. "Nothing's going to happen until you do that. What were you able to
save?"
"Just my
photographs," he said in a weepy tone. "Everything else is gone."
"Well
you got the most important things then," I said. "A lot of people aren't that
lucky."
"I
know," he agreed bitterly, and I couldn't help but silently mourn his loss for
him. I tightened my embrace and softly stroked the top of his head with the
tips of my fingers and said, "Why don't we try to lay down?"
"I'm not
going to be able to sleep," he said, the stress he was feeling evident in his
tone.
"We
don't have to sleep," I reminded him. "We can just lay still and try to calm
down. There's nothing else we can do until tomorrow morning."
Gerald
was a luckier man than he would have admitted to being at that moment. A fire
ripped through his house and he not only made it out unscathed, but he was able
to grab his photo albums and an outfit before he fled the fire that raged so
violently that there was nothing left of his home. His neighbor's homes on each
side were badly damaged by the fire, too, but thankfully, no one was hurt.
That was
of little consolation to him, though. When he called me, he was in tears. I
quickly rushed to his residence, or what used to be his residence, to be with
him. He was a pitiful sight when I got there, sitting on the curb across the
street from his smoldering property, clutching his photo albums as if he were
protecting the only thing left of the life he knew only hours ago.
Once he
placed his pictures in the trunk of my car, he called his mom and dad, who
lived three states away, and told them what happened. He got off the phone and
gave me the saddest, loneliest look I might have ever seen in my life, and my
heart melted. He needed my help, and I knew it. There was no question that I
was going to give him what he needed, too. It wasn't about sex, or about the
fact that we were an "item." It was more about the fact that he was someone in
need, and even if he were a stranger, I wouldn't have had the heart to walk
away.
I've
never been able to.
"You
need to take care of yourself first, son," my dad said when I mentioned that I
was sponsoring a little girl in Guatemala.
"Isn't
this what you and mom would do?" I asked him, and he gave me a measured look
before he took a deep breath and conceded the point.
"Just
don't give more than you can," he said with a proud smile.
For all
of their faults, Dan and Judith Mead were at the very least charitable. My mom
sold real estate, and she once promised a group of high school freshmen that if
they stayed on the honor roll throughout high school, she'd pay for them to go
to college. She kept that promise, too. I don't know how she did it, but I know
that kept her promise.
My dad
was the same way. He worked at NASA as an engineer my whole life, but was
always giving something to people who didn't have things we had. We had plenty,
no doubt, so that list was long. But mom and dad never batted an eye when it
came to helping those in need.
"God has
given us all of this," he told me one day. "We have a responsibility to give as
much back as we can."
I kept
that philosophy with me as I grew up, and I found out in a hurry that the more
I gave, the more I got back. They say that when you want something, you should
give it away. I'm not obsessed with money, but I'm relieved not to be in a
position not to have to worry about it. I have nice things in my house, but I
save as much as I can. I also give as much as I can, because there's no such
thing as a guarantee in this life. There might be a time when I'll have to rely
on charity, and if that day ever comes, I want to at least be able to tell
myself that I helped others when they needed it.
It's the
least I can do.
In the
darkness, I could make out Gerald's features. His weary face looked so angelic
and innocent as he slept. When we got into my bed, I wrapped him in my arms and
held him close. He rolled over on his side to face me and buried his face in my
chest while I ran my fingers through his fine hair, and it wasn't long before
he was fast asleep. I planted a soft kiss on his forehead and found myself glad
that he was lying beside me instead of alone in a hotel room somewhere, scared
and alone. At some point, the sandman revisited me and I settled into a
troubled sleep.
The next
morning I left Gerald in bed and went to work. Behind closed doors, I let Robin
know what happened and suggested that the company might be able to do something
to alleviate his financial burden. Of course, as controller, the final decision
on that matter was mine. I didn't think it would be ethical for me to make a
call like that for Gerald, though, given the fact that we were still
unofficially dating.
Of
course, I was honest with Robin about everything. I obviously didn't get into
the details, but I let her know in no uncertain terms that it would be
unethical for me to direct company funds Gerald's way. I told her that she
needed to be the one to initiate a financial gift for him, should she decide
that it was warranted.
I knew
she didn't approve, but there was nothing she could do. There was no company
policy in place about dating others, and I had done it so many times before.
Still, she gave me a very pointed look when it became clear what was going on
between us, and I had to wonder to myself why I had let things carry on as long
as I had.
"Do you
really think he needs the help?" she asked, and I took a deep breath before I
answered.
"I think
he needs more guidance than anything," I told her. "He's twenty-two, Robin.
Let's offer him all the advice and time off he needs. If he needs financial
assistance, I'll leave it up to you to decide what's appropriate."
At the
mention of his age, she gave me another pointed look and readjusted herself in
her seat before she spoke.
"Let him
know that if he needs anything, he can come talk to me," she said in a neutral
tone. "In the meanwhile, record his time off and give me a total when he comes
back."
"Thanks
Robin," I said with a sigh of relief before I stood up and opened the door,
glad that our meeting was over. Normally I'm completely at ease with everyone
at work, but with Robin, it was never a question. She was one of the nicest,
most accepting people I had ever met in my life, both professional and
personal. But this time, I saw a different side of her. It wasn't a mean side,
or even an un-accepting side. No, this was something else.
It was
almost as if she were implying that I was taking advantage of Gerald, or that I
had no business being with him. I knew it had nothing to do with the fact that
I was gay. That horse was dead, and I was quietly but completely out at work.
In fact, I'd venture to say that there wasn't a single employee in the office
that didn't know I was gay.
This was
more about my age. Or moreover, Gerald's age. The fact that I was seeing
someone so young, someone who happened to report directly to me. Someone who
was a little naïve, a little insecure.
But what
the hell did she know, anyway?
"It goes
on forever, doesn't it?" he asked, leaning back into me with a look of wonder
in his eyes as I wrapped my arms around his chest and locked my fingers
together.
"Yeah,"
I said quietly, a little mystified myself at the awesome sight of the steely
afternoon sky that we were gazing at, facing the East from the balcony deck on
the back of my house.
"I
wanted to thank you for everything, Dennis," he said a little sheepishly. "I
don't know what I would have done last night without you."
"Don't
even mention it," I said softly, resting my chin on top of his head and drawing
in the sweet aroma of his conditioner. "I care about you a lot, Gerald. I'll be
here for you for as long as you need me."
I'd be
lying if I said that the sole origin of my words was the deep sense of concern
I had for Gerald and my charitable spirit. The truth was, I had a growing need
somewhere deep down to be there not just for
Gerald, but with him. It was something that shouldn't have been there, and yet,
there it was.
Part of
me was happy that he'd wound up at my place, even though I wouldn't wish a
house fire on anyone. When I called him from the office that morning, he was at
the very least enthusiastic that things were moving along with his insurance
company. They'd already been out to survey the damage of the fire and arranged
for a hotel room if he needed it. When he mentioned that he had a place to go,
my heart sank a little and I felt desperate to get off early to go see him.
It was
backwards, I know. I mean, just a couple days before, I was trying to figure
out a way to let him down easily and get him to never call me again. Now I was
going out of my way to make sure that he knew that I wanted him to stick
around. It wasn't what I would have called love at the time, but it was
definitely like.
I liked Gerald Ballard.
"Are you
hungry?" I asked him. My stomach was growling, but I hadn't taken the time to
notice because I was so focused on what Gerald was going through all day long.
His welfare was my only concern, even as I sat through a conference call with
two senior members of the Board Of Directors about the financial forecast of
the next quarter. It all seemed too minute, compared to the thought that Gerald
was going through such a traumatic experience all by himself and probably
needed someone to support him.
"I'm
ravished," he said with a mischievous grin.
"What
are you in the mood for?" I asked, open to anything. As long as it was food, I
didn't care what we ate. I was that
hungry.
"What am
I supposed to do with this?" I asked incredulously and a little teasingly,
looking at the product of Gerald's hard work, which was laid out in front of me
in three parts.
"You're
supposed to take a bite and tell me you like it," he said with a sweet smile,
using the fork in his hand to scoop out a bite of cheese covered grits. He
lifted it to my mouth, and I promptly opened up for him and smiled when he fed
me the bite.
"I can't
believe you don't eat grits more often," he said, shaking his head. "They're
the greatest food in the world."
Breakfast
for dinner isn't exactly an original idea. Breakfast in bed for dinner is
something I'd never done, though, and it was oddly intriguing to me. Grits,
bacon and eggs wouldn't have been my first choice, but I knew how hard he had
worked cooking for me, so I smiled politely and let him feed me.
When he
first suggested making dinner for me, I balked at the idea.
"I want
to buy you dinner," I said, but he wasn't having it.
"It'll
be more romantic if I cook it for you," he said. If the look on his face were a
book, it would have told a story about a man who had a romantic plan. It would
have stressed the importance to him that he be allowed to carry out his plan,
and that his happiness at that moment rested on his ability to make me happy.
I know
that sounds a little dramatic, but I swear I read all of that when I looked
into his brown, expressive eyes. His puppy dog expression was both hopeful and
irresistible, and who was I to tell him no? He led me to my room and told me to
stay put while he worked everything out. Before he left me, he fluffed my
pillows and smoothed out my bedspread for me.
When we
were finished eating, he gathered up the dishes and was about to take them back
down to the kitchen, but I stopped him.
"Just
leave it where it is," I said. "Let's cuddle instead."
With
that, he was at my side in an instant. I took him in my arms and heard him sigh
before our lips met. It wasn't long before we were lost in a long, sensual kiss
as our hands explored each other's bodies. That was when it dawned on me that
there was no uncharted territory for me to discover. My lips, my tongue, my
hands. They'd all made intimate contact with every inch of his being, and
somehow, it was always perfect.
Normally,
this was the coda as far as I was concerned. Nothing new meant boredom, and I
would quickly lose interest in whomever I was with. For some reason, though, it
was different with Gerald. Going to all of those places, the spots I already
knew, was like going home again. It was a comfortable place for me to be, and I
was anxious to be there as much as I could.
Very
slowly, we each shed our clothes. As each article of clothing fell from our
bodies to the bed, then to the floor, our energy seemed to merge and I knew it
wouldn't be long before we were one with each other. I wanted it. So did he,
but neither of us had to say a word.
I slowly
but surely placed light kisses on his face and lips, then I carefully moved
down to his neck, where I took my time and lightly suckled until I was sure he
was satisfied. When I left his neck, it was so I could pay special attention to
each one of his hard nipples. I slowly swirled around the perimeter of each
one, then I methodically consumed each one by sucking and using my tongue in
the most pleasurable way for him that I could.
As I
attentively serviced his nipples, he ran his fingers through my thick head of
hair and quietly moaned his delight. When I finally abandoned his chest, I
moved down further to his protruding naval, using my tongue to rake across the
erogenous zone and elicit another strong moan from my willing lover before I
moved down again.
When I
made it to his manhood, I took my time again.
I ran the tip of my tongue along the top of his groin, just above his
pubic bush, over and over while I looked seductively up at him. The look of
desire in his eyes was too hard to resist, so I let myself go and accepted him
in my mouth. As I consumed his manhood, he thrashed around and bit his fist
until he could hold out no longer and spent himself.
From
where I was, I could have easily taken him and he wouldn't have protested.
Indeed, he had a need to be loved that night, and I knew it. I also knew that
he would have been able to adjust to my love if I wanted to rush things. On
this night, though, I wanted to make sure he enjoyed the love I had saved up
for him, so I took my time.
I slowly
used my fingers to prepare him for what was coming. As each digit entered, he
would tense up and gave me a look of anticipation before settling back down so
I could stimulate him. By the time I was finished, one finger turned into two.
Two fingers became three, and three fingers carried with them the promise for
him of a satisfying night in my bed.
I left
nothing to chance with my lover that night, either. I carefully lubricated his
love with KY, then I slid the protection on that both of us mutually agreed to
always use when we were with each other. When he was ready for me to enter him,
he looked up at me with a smile, his silent invitation to take his most
precious treasure for myself.
As
usual, his love was tight around my manhood. I entered him and rested while he
accommodated my size. While he was adapting to our union, I leaned down and
shared a long kiss with him that seemed to set the tempo for our passionate
embrace. The heat of his love was intense, and as I rested within him, I could
feel his pulse throbbing against the walls of his tightness.
When I
finally started to move, his eyes rolled back in his head as I held on for dear
life. My thoughts centered on pleasing him, but I knew that selfishly, I was
indulging in the sweet center of his passion. As time passed, it became
increasingly difficult to maintain my composure and I found myself frantically
trying to hang on.
Finally,
I could wait no longer. His body was sending me a signal that he had reached
his climax, and the sight of his overflowing manhood was my affirmation that
the contractions deep inside of him weren't misleading me. My own manhood was
anxious for release, and I was weak. I gave in to the pleasures of the moment
and spent myself, still buried deep inside of my lover. When I pulled out, I
carefully removed the sleeve that acted as the single barrier between us and
tossed it in the trash can beside my bed, then I took him in my arms and
drifted off into a deep slumber.
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