Date: Sat, 3 Oct 2015 07:15:28 -0500
From: 1967author@gmail.com
Subject: Juan Gets Mace(d)

The following is a sequel to Lightning in a Bottle. If you have not yet
read that, you may want to do so for context. It's in Bisexual/Beginnings.
Please note, however, that the following is not a story of Bisexuality. It
is a Gay Male story.

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stories to you. You can do so by clicking the donate button on the first
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Juan Gets Mace(d)

This is a follow up to "Lightning In A Bottle." If you have not read
"LIAB," then you may want to seek it out for context before reading reading
"Juan Gets Maced."

Chapter 1

As the new guy bent over the water fountain, the first things I noticed
were his legs and his ass. His legs were muscled and covered with fine,
blonde hair, and his ass cheeks were dimpled.

I walked up behind him, wondering what the rest of him looked like. As I
waited, I could tell that his back was rippled, and that the hair on his
head was long and blonde.

When he turned to go back to the weights, I smiled, held out my hand, and
introduced myself. "Hey, I'm Juan."

"Hi," he said back, taking my hand in his. "I'm Mace, short for Mason."

"Are you new here, Mace?" I asked. I had not met him before, and I went out
of my way to meet every new male member of our gym, especially the hot
ones.
And, boy, was this one hot. As I introduced myself, I tried to take him in.
He was wearing a tank top, and I noticed that blonde hair matted his
muscled chest. But, nothing matched his eyes. They were pale green with a
circle of bright orange around the pupil. I assumed they were real, but I
wouldn't have been surprised to find they were not.

"I am new," he admitted. "I just moved from Chicago."

"Well, welcome to San Diego, Mace," I said, flashing him what my friends
called my "toothy Juan smile." Mace flashed only the hint of a smile back.
"Better weather here. Let me know if you need a tour guide. I've been here
since I was fourteen, so I know it pretty well."

My family had fled Bogota in 1982. Drug violence was overwhelming the city,
and America offered a better and safer place to live and to be a family.
Everyone who could afford to leave left. We could and did.

"I like to find my own way," he said, subtly rebuffing me. "But, I'm sure
I'll run into you here."

He would. I was at the gym every night after work, both to work out and to
scout. I had a running game with my friends that I could bag every hot new
male member within their first thirty days, and I was on track to win. I
didn't think Mace would be much of a challenge. I could tell he was a
midwesterner, and farm boys were no match for a sweet, dark Colombian. I
doubt it'd take me thirty hours, much less thirty days.

My friends started in as soon as I returned to the flat bench.

"That didn't take long, Puta," Avery offered, as he spotted for Bruce.

"I have to stay on my game."

"Think you're at risk?"

"Nah. Blondie just moved from Chicago. He doesn't know anyone. He needs a
friend to show him around. By the end of the tour, he'll be begging for my
chorizo," I said, gripping my dick through my shorts as I did.

"Is Blondie as hot up close as he is from here?"

"Hotter. Dude's got orange circles in his eyes. I'm not kidding you. Orange
. .  . fucking . . . circles."

When I finished my workout, I lingered in the locker room, wrapped in a
towel. I hoped Blondie would come in and give me a preview, but my hope was
dashed. I dressed, tugging jeans on over my yellow briefs and a black tank
over my torso. I looked in the mirror, and liked what was looking back. I
had black, curly hair. I wore it long and reckless.

I had dark, oily eyes. They were almost black, and they reflected the light.

I had thick, full lips, and large white teeth. When I smiled, I got my way.

I hated to shave. So, I usually had at least a scruffy face and neck. I
often had a full beard.

I had worked my body into shape. My chest was muscled and covered with dark
hair, as was my stomach. My arms were also muscled, and I had barbed wire
tattooed around both of them. I loved my ink.

I looked rougher than I was. I liked to joke that I was from the mean
streets of Bogota. But, my street in Bogota was not that mean. Both of my
parents were doctors, and we lived well in Colombia, at least until we
fled. We lived better in San Diego. I was a private school kid who went to
Pepperdine for college and majored in Biology. I was now at UCSD's School
of Medicine, following my parents' lead. I looked street, but it was
inauthentic.

I have always known I was gay. I have never been interested in girls. I
have never dated or kissed a girl. I certainly have never fucked a girl.
The mere thought made me throw up a little in my mouth. If the Kinsey Scale
is 1-10, I am an 11. There was nothing about the female body that attracts
or interests me.

The male body was another thing. I love the angles and firmness of it. I
love the hair that covers it. There's a reason Michelangelo sculpted David,
not Diane.

Still, I had not come out until I was in college. But, when I came out, I
came flying out. I fucked or was fucked by every curious or gay guy at
Seaver, Pepperdine's liberal arts college. I preferred blondes (opposites
attract), but I was indiscriminate. When I was twenty, my only requisite
was a dick. I took all comers, be they asian, black, caucasian, clean,
dirty, dumb, fat, femme, masculine, muscled, smart, thin, or white. I was
reckless, and I should have had to pay for my recklessness. But, my tests
always came back clean.

I had settled a little since, but not a lot. I had sorta fallen in love
once, but I wasn't ready to be bridled. So, I fucked around, got caught,
and got tossed. It had hurt only until I started getting laid again.

I didn't understand straight monogamy, especially in the era of abortion
and birth control. I definitely didn't understand gay monogamy. To me,
monogamy was atavistic, designed to prevent unwanted pregnancies and so no
longer applicable to straights and never applicable to gays.

My mother assured me I was wrong, and that I would meet someone who would
make me want to commit to him forever and forsake all others. I assured my
mother she was nuts.

I jacked off when I got home from the gym. I have always had a thing for
chin dimples, so I thought of Blondie's as I stroked my uncut cock. I have
a fecund imagination, and I was using his chin dimple as a cock ramp into
his mouth as I came all over my chest and stomach. I smeared my cum into my
body hair and let it dry. I liked to keep it. I liked the way it smelled.

Smell was my strongest sense, and I catered to it. I didn't wear deodorant,
because I liked the way my pits smelled at the end of a long day. When I
scratched my balls or cock, I always moved my hands to my nose after; I
liked the musky, sweaty smell of my crotch. When I removed my underwear, I
always raised them to my face. I liked the smell of cock more than I liked
sucking one. I liked the smell of ass more than I liked eating one.

I jacked off again before I went to bed. Again, I was thinking of Blondie's
chin dimple when I came. This time, I was sucking it while I fucked him.

*****
I did not see Blondie at the gym the entire weekend. When I ran into him
Monday night, I asked if he had taken the weekend off.

"No, I was in Dallas."

"Business or pleasure?"

"Personal," he responded, coldly.

I seemed not to be having the effect on Mace I expected or wanted. I had
already missed my thirty hour mark, and I was starting to wonder if Latinos
were not his thing. I'd be screwed if he was an Only, which is what me and
my friends called gays who sought "Only Whites" or "Only Blacks" or "Only
Asians."

"Blondie's here," Avery said, grabbing the Stairmaster next to mine.

"I know. I talked to him."

"Getting closer?"

"I don't think so. I think there's something going on there. I'm not sure
what, but there's something."

Mace almost always worked out alone, lost in his Walkman. As a ruse, I
started spotting for him. When I talked about the Padres, he offered that
he was a Cardinals fan. When he talked about conservative politics, I told
him I was a revolutionary.

I didn't tell him I was gay. I just assumed he knew. I didn't wear it, but
I also didn't hide it.

I assumed he was gay. He was too well maintained to be straight.

After spotting for him for about week, I asked "Hey, Mace, want to grab a
beer once we're done here?"

He scrunched up his face, started to say something, then stopped.

When he restarted, he said, "If you're asking me out on a date, I'm with
someone. I'm not available."

"Not even for a beer?"

"Is that all it is?"

"It is. Pretty full of yourself, aren't you?"

"No. Actually, you'll find the opposite to be true."

"I hope so," I answered. "I'll start looking tonight over that beer."

We sat outside, drinking and talking. Without the possibility of sex
hovering, I relaxed and soaked in Mace's words. He was from a small
Missouri town, had grown up poor, was the first in his family to college,
moved to Chicago for law school, and was now clerking for Judge Thompson on
the Ninth Circuit Court of Appeals. He was in a relationship with John. He
told me about how it started, and I found the story incredibly sweet and
hot. They were both straight when they met, they became friends, and then
they slowly edged into being lovers, each day bringing a little more
adventure than the one before. They cautiously and slowly went from holding
hands to fucking. Three years later, Mace was further toward gay than John
was, but John had surprised him by showing up at his law school graduation
after trying unsuccessfully to quit him.

Mace's face lit up when he talked about John. He smiled, and I realized I
had never seen him smile fully before. His smile transformed his face,
dimpling his cheeks to match his chin dimple. It was a great smile. It was
too rare, but it was worth the wait.

I told Mace about fleeing Colombia and re-starting life as a high school
freshman in America, about being an only child, and about coming out to my
parents. He asked me a lot about my decision to be a doctor, and I finally
had to admit it was not a decision at all. I had reached a detente with my
parents. They would put up with me being gay, and I would go to medical
school. I didn't really mind. I couldn't think of anything else I wanted to
do more.

When it was time to go, Mace hugged me goodnight. I was surprised. I
thought midwesterners were more reserved.

"Your mother's right," he said. "When you fall in love, you'll want to
forsake all others."

As I walked to my car, I knew I was up against it. I had Mace's smile in my
mind's eye when I jacked off that night.

Chapter Two

Mace and I started hanging out every Monday night after the gym. We talked
our way through dinners and drinks and long walks. Once Mace got going, he
was an open book. He told me about his little sister, how lost he was after
she died, and how disappointed he had been when none of his college friends
had shown up for her funeral. I wanted to take his hand as he talked, but I
resisted.

He told me about Freddie, the friend he had fooled around with on John. I
chided him when he did, reminding him he had told me I'd "want to forsake
all others" when I fell in love.

"I wanted to," he said. "I just couldn't. I'm human, too."

He paused, looked at me like he was going to confess how horrible he had
felt after cheating on John, and smiled a devilish smile. "Plus, Freddie
had a really nice dick." We both laughed at his mischief.

I had less than a week left in my game. I thought of telling him about it.
But, I didn't. It just seemed too crass at that point. What Mace thought of
me mattered to me, which surprised me. I was usually indifferent.

Mace smelled of vanilla. It had to be in his soap or his lotion. It was
faint, but it was certainly there.

I had vanilla in my kitchen cabinet. I started dabbing it in my chest hair
before I jacked off. I liked smelling Mace when I came.

*****
I took Avery and Bruce to dinner to "celebrate" my loss. I thought of
inviting Mace, but I didn't want him to know that I had bet that I could
bag him in less than thirty days. I took a ton of shit at dinner before
Avery and Bruce accused me of giving up.

"I didn't give up."

"You did," Bruce intoned. "You decided you wanted him as a friend, not as
prey."

"I didn't decide anything. He's in love."

"That's never stopped you before."

They were right. I had ignored wedding rings and other evidence of coupling
as I fucked or was fucked by someone's husband, lover, or beau. I
rationalized that it was not my job to enforce whatever outdated contract
or construct in which they were invested. If they were willing to ignore
it, I was just as willing.

I didn't think that way with Mace. I didn't prey upon him when he was drunk
or lonely. I didn't try to erode his resistance or his will. I let him be.
I tried to be his friend.

I did think what Mace was trying for with John was ridiculous. As I
mentioned, I didn't understand gays who sought the hetero construct of
monogamy that was outdated and unmoored from its original purpose. I
especially didn't understand trying to do it cross-country with someone who
refused to accept or admit he was gay.

I thought Mace was setting himself up for another bitter fall. I thought
John had revealed who he truly was when he had tried let Mace go. Sure, he
had returned, too weak to permanently sever the tie that bound. But, I was
certain he'd let Mace go again. John would never give Mace what he wanted,
even if I was convinced he was a fool for wanting it.

I kept those thoughts from Mace. I liked being his friend, and I feared
unedited honesty would repel him.
*****
The more time I spent with Mace, the more I looked forward to spending time
with him. Looking back, I think it was his midwestern-ness. Mace seemed
utterly without guile. He wasn't pretending to be someone or something he
wasn't, and he wasn't interested in those who were. He was comfortable in
his own skin, unlike so many of the guys I had bedded. He was not on the
make. He was who he was.

He rubbed off on me. Especially when it was just the two of us, I let my
guard down. I felt more me with him than I had ever felt with anyone else,
even Avery and Bruce, who I had been friends with for years.

Obviously, I was smitten with him. It took a long time for me to admit it
to myself; it didn't take nearly as long for Avery and Bruce to diagnose
it. They thought it was hilarious. The one who always got what he wanted
couldn't get the only one he wanted.

I tried to keep my feelings from Mace. It was hard, as Mace was a naturally
affectionate person. We embraced regularly. I inhaled him whenever we did.

While we were sitting at dinner one night, he offered that I had beautiful
hands. I held up my right hand to look at it. I was vainglorious, but I had
never really focused on my hands.

"What makes a hand beautiful?" I asked.

He told me to put my hand down, and I did. He complimented my nails,
tracing them with his fingertip as he did. He talked about the hair between
each knuckle, and then the hair on the back. Apparently, he thought it was
just the right amount. Then, he turned my hand over and traced the
callouses. He concluded they were strong, man hands, but nevertheless
beautiful.

I got turned on as he described my hand and touched it. I folded my hand
around his, my brown skin contrasting sharply with his, and looked directly
into his eyes, smiling. Mace smiled back at me and asked "what?"

I couldn't help myself. "John's lucky," I said.

"So am I."

I should have left it there. But, I either couldn't or wouldn't.

"I'm not sure. I think you deserve more. And, I'm saying that as your
friend, not John's rival." I have no idea why I had added "not John's
rival." I don't think Mace had thought for one moment up to that point that
I wanted to be John's rival. For some reason, I had just laid it out there.
It was unlike me.

Mace had too much grace to say anything. But, he pulled his hand from mine
and looked pensive.

Chapter Three

Despite my faux pas, Mace and I got closer and closer Monday to Monday.
And, Mondays soon were not enough for us. We started hanging out most
nights that I didn't have to study, sometimes with Avery and Bruce and
sometimes just the two of us.

When Avery and Bruce were around, they were too honest with Mace. They were
explicit about the five years I had been out. They had nicknamed me Puta
and referred to me as a "man whore." I wanted to reign them in, but I
couldn't.

Mace seemed unfazed by their stories. He did not view me as an option, so
there was no reason for him to fret over my sexploits.

For Halloween, Bruce had a "Dead Rock Star" party. Mace had let his hair
grow, so he tucked it behind his ears, grew a little scruff, and showed up
as a stunning Kurt Cobain. I went easy, shaved my face, and showed up as
Richie Valens, the only Latino I could think of. Bruce dragged out as Janis
Joplin. And, Avery scuzzed up a little as Jimi Hendrix.

We were all very drunk by the time the last guests wobbled out. Bruce
suggested an old fashioned slumber party, so we used his comforter and
blankets to build a bed on the floor. I was the last one out of the
bathroom, so they were already settled with Mace closest to the wall and
Avery in the middle. I had no idea what they were wearing, but I was in
yellow boxer briefs. I owned only yellow underwear, as I thought they
looked best against my brown skin and body hair.

I laid down next to Bruce, torqued by the sequence of bodies. Momentarily
inspired, I rolled onto Bruce, kissed him good night, and said "Boo." I had
drunkenly made out with Bruce once, but we had never hooked up.

I then rolled onto Avery, kissed him good night, and said "Boo." Avery and
I had hooked up on and off over the years, usually only as booty calls to
get off when we struck out on the prowl. I liked his smooth, soft skin, and
his big black cock. We were both hounds, so anything other than a greedy
fuck was out of the question.

I then rolled onto Mace, kissed him good night, and said "Boo." I lingered
on top of him, and I could feel him getting hard against me. I smiled at
him, and he smiled back. I pressed my crotch into his, but he didn't press
back.

"Scooch over," I whispered. "I want to sleep next to the wall."

Mace shifted over, and Avery and Bruce followed suit. I didn't think I'd
get away with it, and I didn't.

"Hey, Puta," Avery offered. "If you had wanted to sleep next to Blondie,
all you had to do was say so. I shouldn't have had to endure a kiss for it."

"Endure?" I asked, mockingly, and raising up on my right arm. "You know you
loved having these luscious brown slips pressed to your thick black ones."

"Been there, done that," he answered, rolling his eyes at me. "Like always,
you were thinking of someone else while you were kissing me."

"Yep," added Bruce. "Like always. So very Juan of you."

"I am starting to sense some anti-immigrant bigotry," I teased.

"No," Bruce laughed. "You are starting to sense some ongoing anti-whore
bigotry."

"Glass houses, Bitch," I responded. "I'm not the one who got fucked against
a fence in an alley last Friday night."

"In my defense," Bruce offered, "it was a nice fence. Wrought iron, not
chain link."

"Still, it was a fucking fence," I said, sarcastically slut-shaming him.

Avery jumped in. "It may not have been against a fence, but I'm pretty sure
you got fucked Friday night."

"I didn't," I defended myself.

"Then you fucked someone."

The room went silent. I couldn't deny that which was true.

Bruce slowly drawled out. "Uhmmmm hmmmm."

I pounced on Avery. "What about you, Mandingo? I saw who you left with."

"I'm sure you mean 'with whom you left,'" Avery, always the grammarian,
corrected me. "And, to answer your question, I had a decent Friday night,
but a better Saturday morning."

"You let that chicken stay over?"

"No. I sent him away. But, I booty called him back the next morning. His
tight white ass deserved another pounding."

Avery was proud of his promiscuity. Every Sunday brunch, he drawled out "I
am Mandingo" if he had gotten laid that weekend. The self-moniker had stuck.

Mace finally spoke up. "I feel like I'm in an episode of Golden Girls, but
you're all Blanche."

He was right, and we erupted in laughter. But, I had achieved my goal. I
was next to Mace on the floor, with no one else beside me.

"Do you all call me Blondie?" he asked.

"Only when you're not around," Bruce answered.

"Even you?" he asked, looking at me.

"Even me."

Once we stopped laughing and trolling each other, I rolled onto my right
side and stared at Mace. He was on his back, under the sheet. I put my hand
on his chest and played with the hair that protruded from the veed neck of
his shirt. When he looked at me, I kissed his nose.

"Juan," he warned.

"Shhh. It's nothing."

I slid my hand under the sheet, up his shirt, and played with his chest
hair. Mace tensed, then relaxed.

"Take your shirt off," I pleaded. He didn't, but he pulled it up, and I
tickled his stomach and sides. As I tickled lower, Mace tensed. I wanted to
move to his cock, but I knew he'd recoil if I did. So, I moved my hand to
his face and traced it with my forefinger. I started at his widow's peak,
and traced down to the tip of his nose. I then traced back up to his eyes,
encircling them both. I traced back to the tip of his nose, down his
philtrum, and across and around his lips. He pursed his lips as I did. His
lips were so full and smooth and soft, I moved my face to them and kissed
him. To my surprise, he kissed me back, rolling into me. I opened my mouth,
and he responded by opening his. Our tongues danced and fought. When the
kissed ended, he said "I'm sorry, Juan. I can't do this."

He rolled his back to me. I moved behind him and tried to put my arm around
him. He wouldn't have it. He pulled his hands to his chest and tensed
against my touch. I hugged him. It was like hugging an ironing board. I had
overstepped. I backed off, rolling onto my back and sleeping next to Mace,
but not touching him.

*****
The next morning, Mace was the last to awake. Avery, Bruce, and I were
having coffee on Bruce's patio and gossiping while Mace slept.

"His dick is huge," I said.

"Did you touch it?" Avery asked.

"Not directly. But, while I laid on him, he started to get hard. It was
like the stay puff marshmallow man. It kept getting bigger and bigger and
bigger."

"Bigger than Malabar?" Avery asked. Avery was very proud of his long, thick
cock and called it Malabar.

"Sorry, Avery," I said. "But, I think Malabar's got a rival."

Mace stepped onto the patio. We all fell silent, giggling. Mace was no fool.

"So, were you talking about me?" he asked.

"No," we all responded, in unison.

"And, that's why you shut down when I stepped out. You really are the
Golden Girls, aren't you?"
Mace did not wait for our answer. He turned, retreated into Bruce's
apartment, and started gathering himself into his backpack. But, from that
moment, Avery, Bruce, and I started calling ourselves "the Girls" or "the
GGs."

I joined Mace in Bruce's living room. "Hey, Mace," I started. "I'm really
sorry about last night."

"Don't be," he said. "I knew what was going on. I like being touched. Up to
a point."

"So, we're cool?"

"Very."

"Awesome."

"Yes, we are awesome," he agreed, hugging me and kissing my nose.

When he was gone, Avery accused me of being in love with him.

"I'm not," I protested.

"Well, you're at least in lust with him."

"I am," I admitted. "He's hot, a great kisser, and he has a huge cock. I'd
love to bed him."

"You kissed him?" Bruce asked, surprised.

"Yes. Last night. For a second or two."

"Oh, Puta, it is more than lust," Avery accused. "I see the way you look at
him. Like he's your first puppy."

"It's not more than that," I lied. It was, and I knew it. I just didn't
know what to do about it.

Chapter Four

Mace was off to Chicago the following weekend to meet John. I had grown to
hate his weekends away. I fretted for him, and I missed him.

The GGs went prowling Friday night. I was the last to choose, settling just
after midnight on a blonde kid named Timmy. Timmy and a friend were in from
Ocotillo, and the vultures were circling. I decided on a rescue mission.
They had no place to stay, so I had to take the friend to take Timmy. The
friend was okay, but Timmy was adorable. He looked like River Phoenix in My
Own Private Idaho.

By the time we got back to my apartment, it was clear the boys were X-ing.
I swallowed one of my own, poured myself a tequila, and told them to make
out with each other while they got undressed. I settled back into my
favorite chair, sipped my tequila, and watched the show.

They went after each other pretty hard, kissing and licking and sucking
each other. By the time Timmy filled his friend's mouth with cum, I was
ready to go. I led them both to my bedroom, laid them on their backs on my
bed, and then laid them, taking Timmy first. When he came, I lowered myself
to him, smearing his cum in the hair on my chest and stomach. Then, I
pulled out, switched condoms, and finished in his friend, fucking him
furiously.

I didn't want to sleep three to the bed. So, I brushed my teeth, and moved
to the couch.

I awoke the next morning to the sound of fucking. I didn't know who was
fucking whom, but it was clear one of the kids was getting pounded pretty
hard by the other. I put my Walkman on and popped in a cassette so I
wouldn't have to listen to it.

I made coffee and a chorizo scramble. Once my bed stopped rocking, I
knocked on the door, stuck my head in, and told the kids to get dressed.

In the light of my kitchen, the kids looked really young. I wanted to ask
how old they were, but I was afraid the answer would disgust and embarrass
me. Instead, I hastened their exit.

"When you're done eating, you need to go. If I need to drive you back to
your car, I will."

"We don't have any place to stay tonight," Timmy pleaded.

"I'm sorry, kid. But, you can't stay here."

"We'll make it worth your while," Timmy's friend chimed in.

I was a libertine, and I was tempted. Wisdom prevailed, and I said "No."
When Timmy tried to explain they couldn't afford a hotel room, I suggested
they return to Ocotillo.

It took a little shepherding, but I was able to get them out of my
apartment before I re-considered my conviction and Pipi's head prevailed
over mine (I called my cock "Pipi"). Once they were gone, I stripped my bed
and vacuumed my mattress. I wanted their smell out of my place.

I met Avery and Bruce at Hamburger Mary's that afternoon. Timmy was at the
bar, his friend nowhere to be seen. Timmy stared at me as I ate, and I
decided to lure him to the bathroom. I bet Avery and Bruce a tequila each
that the blonde kid at the bar would follow me to the bathroom and blow me,
not cluing them in to the fact that I had fucked him and his friend the
night before. It was a chippy bet, but they didn't know it. Timmy was
through the bathroom door before it swung shut. I pulled him into a stall,
forced him down on the toilet, and quickly fucked his face. As my orgasm
started to shake my legs, I pulled out and came all over the front of his
shirt, which was the same black shirt he'd been wearing the night before.

"Hey, I have to wear this tonight," he whined.

"Sorry," I said, finishing the paint job and then tousling his hair.
"Thanks for the blowjob, kid."

I returned to the table to collect my tequilas. Timmy stayed in the
bathroom.

"Did you tie him up?" Avery asked.

"No, but I sprayed all over his shirt. He's probably trying to wash me off.
He's in from Ocotillo, and he didn't bring another shirt."

"You're the worst," Bruce opined.

"Actually, I'm simply the best," I corrected him, echoing Tina Turner.
"Better than all the rest, better than anyone . . . aren't I, Avery?"

"I hate to admit it, but Puta's pretty good," Avery offered. "You know what
they say, practice makes perfect. And, Puta gets plenty of practice."

*****
Since I had gotten day drunk and blown, I planned to stay in alone Saturday
night. A 7 p.m. knock on my door ruined my plans. I saw Timmy through the
peep hole. I didn't want him in my apartment, so I urged, "Go away, Timmy."
For effect and finality, I added, "I'm done with you."

"I've got nowhere to go. And, I'm out of money."

"Those are Timmy problems, not Juan problems. Get money from your friend."

"He got picked up this afternoon. Right before I ran into you. I have no
idea where he is."

"Timmy," I was softening. "I'm sorry. But, I need to study tonight. I can't
let you in."

"Please," he pleaded. "I've got nowhere else to go. If you let me in, I'll
let you fuck me raw."

I unlocked to door, opened it, and demanded "Get in here."

"Thank you."

"Sit down," I ordered. "How old are you?"

"Eighteen."

"You're young, Timmy. And stupid. You're not to let anyone fuck you raw.
Ever. You got it?

"I haven't."

"Don't. You're too young to die."

"Alright," he relented.

"Promise me," I insisted.

"Fine. I promise."

We sat quietly. I wanted him to soak in my admonition. He broke the silence
by asking again if he could sleep on my sofa.

"Yes. But, you don't owe me anything in return. You got it?"

"Yes."

I studied while Timmy watched TV. I ordered pizza, and we ate it on the
living room floor and talked. Timmy was young, but cute and sweet. As it
got later, Pipi started to work on me. I finally gave in to him.

"You ever fucked anyone, Timmy?"

"Just my friend, Scott. Just once. This morning."

"Come with me. I'm going to teach you how."

Timmy sprang up like a shot and passed me on the way to the bedroom. We
stripped and climbed into bed. I fucked Timmy as slowly as I could, milking
his ass with my sheathed cock. Once I came, I lowered myself to his teen
cock and sucked him dry, teaching him how to give a proper blow job.

We talked as I waited for him to bounce back. His parents knew he was gay
and didn't care, as long as he "didn't bring that shit in their house."

"Can I ask you a question?" he asked.

"Sure."

"You just swallowed my cum. Isn't that dangerous, too?"
"Not really. It's just hysterical propaganda from the homophobes who don't
want guys sucking each other's cocks. You should probably avoid it if you
have an open sore in your mouth or have just been to the dentist, but
otherwise it's as safe as letting a guy come on your chest."
"Or your shirt?"

"Or your shirt."

When Timmy was ready, I sheathed him and let him take me missionary style.
I coached him on dick control, but he was only 18 and came way sooner than
I wanted. When we were finished, he slipped his briefs on, and headed
toward the couch.

"You can stay in here."

"Really?"

"Yes, really."

Timmy curled up on his side, and I curled up behind him, wrapping my arm
around him. He put his hand in mine, and we fell asleep.

The next morning, I let him blow me, offering guidance as he did. I told
him to start by licking around the head, then take the tip in his mouth and
circle it with his tongue over and over to get all the nerves riled up. I
then had him suck me, using his hand on my balls while he slowly slid up
and down my cock. I told him about edging the guy to the brink of orgasm
and then backing off. I told him he should not let the guy come until he
wanted him to come. I then told him how he could use his hand and mouth in
unison to force the guy to come even if he didn't want to yet.

I held Timmy's head on my cock while I filled his mouth with cum. I then
told him he could spit it in the sink or swallow it, whichever he wanted.
He walked to the bathroom, so I think he spat.

As he walked back toward the bed, I decided I wanted him to fuck me again.
"Go as slow as you can," I insisted, as I took him missionary style again.
He lasted a little longer than the night before, but not much.

I cleaned myself up, fed him, and tried to send him on his way. As he stood
in my doorway, I could tell he was moonstruck. I gave him twenty bucks for
gas or whatever, in case he needed it. He thanked me and asked if he could
come back the next weekend.

"Sorry, kid, but this is the end of the line for you and me. I can't keep
you out of San Diego, but it's nothing but 'hi' for you and me from here on
out. Find someone your own age and fuck him silly."

"What if I'm in love with you?" he asked. I knew it. Goddamned moonstruck
kids.

"You're not. Just like you're not going to be in love with the next guy who
fucks you. Or the next guy after that. Even though you'll think you are.
Now, get out of here. Go find your friend. Tell him what I told you. And,
for God's sake, Timmy, play safe."

He started to walk away. I stopped him.

"Timmy?"

"Yeah."

"I don't mean to be a dick. But, don't ever show up here again. You got it?"

"Yeah, I got it."

Chapter Five

Monday night, I made dinner for Mace after the gym. I hated asking him
about his visit with John, but it would have been rude not to. I barely
listened as he shared their weekend with me.

After dinner, I studied while Mace read. We were on opposite ends of my
sofa, and our legs were intermingled. I held Mace's right foot in my left
hand. I was so engrossed in my work, I failed to notice when Mace faded
into sleep. I unwound us without waking him, and covered him with a
blanket.

I don't know what time he moved into my bed. I woke up with him behind me,
his hard cock pressing against my ass. I couldn't help but press back
against it.

"What time is it?" he asked.

"It's only 5:45," I answered, rolling over and facing him. "When did you
come in here?"

"I don't know. I don't think it was very long ago."

We laid there face to face and talked. I have no idea about what. For some
reason, we whispered. The whispering added an element of intimacy.

I desperately wanted to kiss Mace. I felt like I could. But, I didn't.
Maybe I didn't want to repel him. Maybe I wanted to respect what he was
trying to do. I hoped it was the former, because the latter was out of
character for me. And, I didn't want him to change my character.

It was 7 when we finally got up. I had been hard for at least 75 minutes.
My balls were aching, and my cock was leaking. I could feel the wet spot on
my briefs. I couldn't decide if I should hide it from Mace or let him see
it. I went for convenience over discretion, walking to the kitchen to start
coffee hard and in only my briefs.

When I turned to go to the bathroom, Mace was standing in the doorway,
still in the shorts and shirt had worn over the night before. He was
smiling.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"Watching you."

"Why?"

"Because you're beautiful. You really are. The way you look. The way you
move. It's quite something."

"It's just me."

"There's no 'just' about it."

I didn't respond with words. Instead, I spread my arms wide and slowly
turned 360 degrees.
"Here I am. In all my glory."

"You're being facetious. But, it really is glorious. You are a beautiful
man, Puta."

Mace had never called me that. He had always called me Juan.

"You're not so bad yourself, Blondie," I said, walking toward him. Although
that's all Avery and Bruce called him, I had never done it to his face. I
had always called him Mace.

I wrapped my arms around Mace and pressed my body to his. We were cheek to
cheek, chest to chest, and cock to cock. We were hard against each other. I
had a nice cock, but he dwarfed me.

The air in my apartment seemed thick. We were on the knife's edge as I
realized I had been wrong about Mace and that he may consider me an option.

I lightly brushed my lips along his neck. He shuddered when I did. I gently
kissed his cheek and his chin before pressing my lips to his. He opened his
mouth, and I licked the morning off his tongue. As we kissed, I pressed my
cock to his, and he pressed back. We were headed for the fall when Mace
pulled out of the kiss.

"Fuck, Juan, why do you have to be so fucking awesome?"

"You bring out the best in me," I answered, more honestly than I had
intended.

"I should go," Mace retreated, breaking the spell and pulling out of my
arms.

"You're right. You should be a good boy. You wouldn't be happy being a bad
boy. At least not for very long." I couldn't believe I was being strong for
him. It was unlike me.

After Mace left, I buried a dildo in my ass and jacked myself senseless. I
came imagining that it was Mace buried inside me.

*****
Mace returned home to his family and to John for Thanksgiving. I stayed in
San Diego, partying with Avery and Bruce Wednesday night, sleepwalking
through dinner with my parents on Thursday, and returning to the prowl
Friday night. Bruce was with his brother and sister, so Avery and I were
stalking together. I quickly grew bored and decided I wanted Avery to fuck
me. He was easy to convince.

We went to my place. We stripped as we made our way to my bed. I pulled
Avery down on top of me and buried my tongue in his mouth. We made out
hungrily as we ran our hands over each other's body. He loved the hair on
mine. I love the hairlessness of his. And the smooth, soft skin.

"Fuck me," I insisted. Avery reached into my bedstand, pulled out a Magnum
that I stocked mostly for these booty calls, opened it, and handed it to
me. I rolled it onto Malabar and rolled onto my stomach. It was easier to
accommodate Avery when he took me from behind.

Avery lubed me up and slowly pressed Malabar into me. I was needy, and I
took him as easily as I ever had. Avery lowered himself onto me and took my
hands in his. Avery liked to talk while he fucked, which I could have done
without. His mouth was at my ear and he started the "yeah, take that big
black cock"s and "oh, your ass feels so good around my big black cock"s as
he drove over and over into me. He was rapacious.

As he almost always did, Avery hit my prostate, and I started to float
away. While I floated, Mace took Avery's place. Mace was fucking me,
sweating on me, babbling in my ear, and sucking on my neck. I was lost in
it. I vaguely felt Mace drive deep and grunt, pull out, roll me over, and
finish me with his mouth. I cried out when I came, arching my back and
filling Mace's mouth and throat with my cum. I was soaked with sweat and
delirious with happiness.

I was shocked back into reality by Avery's deep voice.

"Fuck, Juan, that was the biggest load you've ever given me. I thought you
were never going to stop coming. I got all the protein I need for the day."

I couldn't speak. I couldn't believe it was Avery next to me, not Mace. I'd
have sworn otherwise, the feeling of it being Mace having been so real.

"Did you come yourself mute?"

"No. I just got lost for a little bit."

"Thanks for the fuck. I'm gonna go. I'll see you at brunch Sunday."

"Yeah, I'll see you at brunch Sunday."

Avery left. I got up, cleaned myself up, and stared at myself in the
mirror. I barely recognized the man staring back at me.

*****
I ran into Timmy the next night at the bar. As soon as he saw me, he
started following me. I tried but couldn't shake him. I finally got tired
of it and told him to meet me out back.

Once we were out back, I pinned him to the brick wall, tugged his jeans
down, and fucked him hard. It was fast and furtive and exactly what I
needed. I dropped the condom at his feet and stuck twenty bucks in his back
pocket as he buttoned his jeans.

"What's that for?" he asked.

"That's what it was worth to me," I said, dismissively.

"You're an asshole."

"I know."

I left him out back. I immediately felt like shit. When he came back in,
his face was bright red. I feared he had been crying. He was headed out the
front door when I cut him off.

"Look, kid, I'm sorry. I'm working through some shit, and I just took it
out on you. I'm really sorry. Let me buy you a drink and make it up to you."

"That won't do it."

"What will?"

"Take me home?"

"To Ocotillo."

"No, asshole, to your home. Take me there. Now."

I didn't feel like I had much of a choice, so I told him to meet me at my
apartment. Once we were there, Pipi reasserted himself. I fucked and licked
and kissed and sucked Timmy long into the night. He wanted to fuck me, but
I was sore from the pounding Avery had delivered the night before, so I
wouldn't let him.

We'd have kept at it, but my cock went limp. With Pipi out, so was I.

I felt worse in the morning than I had after fucking Timmy at the bar. He
was asleep, and he looked like a little boy. I realized I had used this
vulnerable kid to try to reclaim myself, and it had been a very selfish and
self-centered act.

It was also counterproductive. I wanted Timmy to go away, and fucking him
senseless was not going to achieve that want.

I made it worse by taking him to brunch with Avery and Bruce. I knew it was
a bad idea, but I felt like shit about everything I had done to the poor
kid the night before.

He was out of his league and clearly uncomfortable at brunch. He insisted
he was 18, but I was seriously doubting it. He seemed too naive.

I dropped him back at his car after brunch. He grabbed paper out of his
glove compartment and wrote his number down.

"Call me," he said, holding it out to me.

I refused to take it. "Look, kid, I'm not taking that. I'm not going to
call you. I'm not going to pretend I will."

"Fine," he said. "But, if you don't call me, I'm not going to let you fuck
me."

"I hope not."

Chapter Six

Christmas was bearing down on us, and I was vexed by what to get Mace. I
needed a home run, and I was a poor gift giver at best. I enlisted Avery
and Bruce in the search for ideas, and they had a blast with it. Each
suggestion was more crude and ridiculous than the one before. I resisted
the suggestions of butt plugs and cock rings, the equally stupid
suggestions of sensual massages and facials ("I thought you'd want to give
him a facial," Avery insinuated), and the totally counterproductive
suggestion of flying John out for a surprise visit.

"Can you please be serious?" I pleaded. "You know I'm bad at gifting."

"That's because you look for what you'd want, not what the person to whom
you're giving the gift would want," Avery alleged.

He had a point. I don't think I'd ever bought a gift I didn't like, no
matter what the person receiving it might like. My mother had horrible
taste in jewelry. I wouldn't contribute to her bad collection. She wore
what I bought her only when I was around.

I started thinking of Mace and what he might want. Mace loved the Cardinals
more than anything else, so I settled on something Cardinal. I knew nothing
about the team, so I had to research its history and try to track something
down.

I learned that Stan Musial was the most famous Cardinal, at least living. I
called the Cardinals' ballpark, and got routed to the Fan Store. I talked
to a nice lady who luckily had little else to do that afternoon, and, by
the end of the call, an autographed Stan Musial jersey was being shipped my
direction. It had cost a small fortune, but Mace was worth it.

Once I got the jersey, I had it framed, the back of the jersey highlighted
by the "Stan 'the Man' Musial" signature between "MUSIAL" and "6." I
wrapped the frame, and I couldn't wait to give the gift to Mace.

Mace and John met in New Orleans the weekend before Christmas. Mace
returned grumpy. He was clearly put out at the gym, and he tried to avoid
dinner at my apartment after. I couldn't let him, because I planned to give
him his present for dessert. I was relentless, and Mace finally relented.

Over dinner, I dug for the source of his grumpiness. After three glasses of
wine, he finally gave it up. He and John had celebrated Christmas in New
Orleans, and John's gift was a paperback of Edmund Burke's "Reflections on
the Revolution in France." A paperback?! John had either given up or didn't
care.

If I was a better person, I may have buried my gift so as not to upstage
John. As is by now quite obvious, I was not a better person, at least not
yet.

I went to my room and returned with my gift. Mace's eyes went wide. I was
eager with anticipation as he unwrapped it, carefully and patiently, of
course (I should have known Mace would not tear the paper like I would
have).

"Oh my God," he reacted as he took it in, mouth agape. "This is the best
gift I've ever gotten." He turned to me, took my face in his hands, kissed
me on the mouth, and said "Thank you, Juan. I really mean it. It's the best
gift I've ever gotten."

As he walked toward his gym bag, he said, "I have something for you, too."
He returned with a small box.

I tore the paper and flipped the box open. Inside, there was a single,
small gold hoop.

"You said you wanted to get your ear pierced. So, now you have an earring
to wear when you do it."

  I thought Mace had set a precedent, so I kissed him in thanksgiving for
my gift. "I love it," I said. "I really do. I'm going to get my ear pierced
tomorrow."  [I did. They told me to keep the gold stud in for thirty days,
but I didn't. I substituted in Mace's hoop as soon as I got home. It hurt
like hell to make the change, but I liked having something from him on me
at all times.].

I opened another bottle of wine. We drank it on the patio. As we could in
December in San Diego.

Our chairs were angled, and I slid my right foot under his left thigh. He
responded by moving his left foot to my lap, and I took it in my hands,
rubbing and tickling it as we drank our wine in silence.

Stupidly, I raised his foot to my mouth, kissed it, and said "I love you,
Mace. I really do."

To my surprise, he responded by pulling my foot from under his leg, raising
it to his mouth, and offering "I love you, too, Puta. I really do."

*****
Mace stayed over that night. We undressed in silence. I thought about
pulling my briefs off, but I decided I didn't want to be too forward. And,
I wanted Mace to choose me, not default to me because I was present.

When Mace was in just his underwear, he stood and looked at me. It was the
most I'd ever seen of him. He was well-built. I loved the blond hair that
covered his chest and the way it trailed down his stomach and into his
briefs.

His briefs were full, and he wasn't hard. His cock was to the right, and it
was impressive. It looked like he had a can of beer in his pants. I almost
said something about it, but I decided against it. Instead, I walked over
to him, and kneeled in front of him. I ran my hands over his feet, his
calves and his thighs. I put my face to his crotch and inhaled deeply. I
raised up and ran my hands over his sides, his stomach, his chest and his
shoulders. I lowered my face to his right armpit and inhaled deeply again.
I ran my tongue along his chest and neck and chin and kissed his lips. I
could feel his cock straining against mine. I decided to jump.

"Mace, I want to make love with you."

"I know, Juan, but I can't. I'm sorry. I just can't."

"No one needs to know but us."

"That's one too many."

I didn't press him. I pulled back, smiled, and suggested we get some sleep.

"I think I should go," he offered, half-heartedly.

"Don't be stupid. It's too late and you've had too much to drink. I can
sleep with you and keep my hands off you."

"I'm not worried about you. I'm worried about me."

We settled into bed. We were both on our backs, and I realized I had not
thanked Mace for my gift. "Thank you for the ear ring," I said. "Every time
I wear it I'll think of you."

Mace rolled toward me and said nothing. As I had done to him on Halloween,
he traced my face, starting at my hairline, circling my eyes, and tracing
each eyebrow before moving to my nose and my mouth. He continued to my
neck, lightly tickling down my carotid to my clavicle. He moved to each
nipple, circling them over and over before gently swirling my chest hair
and my stomach hair. I was so turned on, I thought I might explode. I
expected him to stop at my navel, but he didn't. He moved his hand to my
dick and tickled it and my balls through my briefs. I was getting lost in
his touch when he said "you can take those off, if you want."

I totally wanted. But, I wasn't sure I should act on the want. Any more
touching, though, would resolve my uncertainty.

"Mace, do you really want to do this?"

"So much."

"Okay, bad choice of words. Don't you think you're going to regret doing
this?"

"I hope not."

I raised my hips and slipped my briefs off. Mace's hand stayed on my
stomach, so it was clear he was having doubts. I was trapped between carnal
desire and reason.

When Mace moved his hand toward my cock, I grabbed it.

"Don't," I said.

"I want to."

"You don't," I said, pulling Mace's hand to my mouth and kissing it. I
jacked myself while I sucked his fingers. I was so geeked up, it took no
time for me to come. I filled my navel with cum.
Mace pulled his fingers from my mouth and placed them in his own, sucking
my saliva off of each of them. I got up to clean the cum off me. When I
returned to bed, Mace apologized for being a cocktease.

"You're not a cocktease. You're just stuck between where you are and where
you want to be."

Mace didn't agree or disagree. But, his silence said a lot to me.

Chapter Seven

When I woke up, Mace was gone. I found a note in soap on my bathroom
mirror. "Merry Christmas and thank you for my wonderful gift."

My family and I headed to Bogota for Christmas. Gay was definitely not okay
in Colombia, so I was going to have to be very careful if I got the urge to
get laid.

Of course I did. I found a clandestine bar, picked a boy, and fucked his
face and ass in the backseat of his car. I'd have been arrested and
imprisoned if I had gotten caught.

I didn't have a condom, so I filled that boy's ass with my cum. I should
have cared, but I didn't.

He pleaded with me in Spanish to make him come. I didn't want to, so I
pretended not to speak Spanish and signaled for him to jack himself off.
When I got back to my aunt's house, I stared at myself in the mirror,
wondering who I was.

*****
Avery and I stayed at Bruce's for New Year's Eve. Over dinner, I came clean
and told them about my feelings for Mace and the "Sam and Diane" game we
had been playing.

They were not surprised. But, they immediately porcupined for me, raising
their hackles to try to protect me from getting hurt.

"Puta, Mace is in town only for a year," Bruce reasoned. "When his
clerkship's over, he's headed to wherever John is. Protect yourself."

"It may be too late."

"Then back up."

"I'm not sure I can. I think maybe Mace is the one."

"Whoa," Avery intoned. "The one? I thought you were certain there was no
such thing. I'm pretty sure you described it as a 'hetero construct that
was unrealistic and used to delude young girls into worshiping men.'"

"I think I was wrong. I feel different about Mace than I have about anyone
else. When I'm with him, I'm a better person."

Avery and Bruce just smiled. Years of my own rebuke confronted me in those
smiles. I was eating raw crow.

"If that is so," Avery finally said, "then you need to give it all you've
got, Puta. You have to throw everything you have at him. You'll never
forgive yourself if you don't."

Bruce agreed. "Puta, if anyone or anything makes you change how you think
about things, you have to give it your all. You'll wither away if you
don't."

When we were finished, we were all in agreement. I may not ultimately get
Mace, but I needed to fight for him as hard as I could. I had never fought
for anyone, so I didn't know what to do.

*****
The first Monday of 1993, I made a grand Colombian dinner for Mace. We ate
it at my coffee table, which I had dressed with a cloth and candles. It was
the first time we had seen each other since we had exchanged Christmas
gifts. Mace had immediately complimented the earring. I had responded it
was my new favorite thing.

Mace seemed reflective, and I inquired as to why. He told me he thought
1993 was going to be a significant year for him, he had a couple of big
decisions he needed to make, and he wasn't sure he was mentally prepared to
make them. One dealt with his job. His clerkship ended at the end of
August, and he had to figure out what he wanted to do after that. He had a
lot of options, but he wanted to make sure he chose the right one.

The other had to do with John. If they were going to be together, then Mace
needed to allow that to inform his professional decision, as John was in
D.C. for at least two more years. But, Mace seemed to be having doubts
about John, which he either couldn't or wouldn't share with me.

"I can't talk to you about him, Puta."

"Why not?"

"I think your opinions might be tainted by self-interest."

"I can be objective."

Mace disputed my claim by cocking his right eyebrow at me. I smiled back,
knowing he was right.

"Alright," I admitted. "But, even an objective person would tell you that
you can't build a relationship with someone who refuses to admit who they
are and what they are. You just can't. He's going to marry some unfortunate
woman and try to keep you on the side. It's fucked up."

"I'm sorry, Puta. But, like I said, I can't talk to you about this. And, I
don't want to. I like you, a lot. I like being friends with you, a lot. I
don't want John to become an obstacle to that friendship."

I felt like I had just been scolded. My back was up, and my natural
instinct was to lash out. I didn't. I decided to take a softer approach. I
put my hand on his and confessed.

"Look, Mace, I know you love John. I just don't think he can or will love
you like you love him. And, I don't want you to settle for less than you
deserve. I want to see you with someone who loves you more than you love
him."

"Like you, Puta? Is that what you think you're offering me."

"Yes, that's what I think I'm offering you."

"But that's against everything you've said."

"You've changed my mind."

It was finally all out there, and Mace's eyes welled with tears. Before any
fell, he announced he had to go, stood up, and beelined for my door.

"Mace, don't leave."

"I have to," he said, pulling the door shut behind him before I could get
to it.

I circled the wagons and called Avery and Bruce over. We were on the patio,
and I told them I wasn't sure that I had done it properly, but I had laid
it all out for Mace. We walked over and over through every word and every
movement. We interpreted and re-interpreted actions and reactions. We
speculated about where it all would go.

I was almost asleep when my phone rang.

"Hello."

"Juan, it's Mace. I hope I didn't wake you."

"You didn't. I just climbed into bed. What's up?"

"Sorry I bolted on you like that."

"You don't have to apologize to me. You never have to apologize to me."

"This is hard, Juan. I'm struggling, and I don't know what to do. I'm
normally so excited flying east to John. Last weekend, I felt more excited
flying west back to you."

"That makes me happy."

"I know. But, it doesn't make me happy. It's tormenting me. When I'm with
John, I feel like I'm cheating on you. When I'm with you, I feel like I'm
cheating on John. No matter where I am, I feel shitty about what I'm doing.
. . . So, I think we should stop hanging out for awhile. I've told myself
for the last month or so that I can control my emotions and just be friends
with you. But, I can't. When I'm with you, I want more than that."

"Does John know?"

"God, no. He thinks this is just a thing between the two of us. I can't
tell him I'm attracted to another man. He'll freak about me not being gay."

I'm not sure Mace understood how fucked up his explanation sounded. Or,
that his explanation suggested he was making the wrong choice in pushing me
away.

"Look, Mace. I know I can't talk you out of this. I'm not even going to
try. I'm not going to be satisfied going back to a purely platonic thing
with you, and you won't either. Neither of us have admitted it, but we've
been lovers for awhile no. Not sexually. But in every other way. I love
you. I want to be with you. You've made me re-think everything I was
certain of. I think you're making a mistake. But, it's your mistake to
make."

Neither of us spoke for awhile. I couldn't tell if Mace was thinking or
re-thinking. He finally broke the silence.

"I have to figure this out. I don't think I can if you're right in front of
me and John's in D.C. I don't want to take the easy way out. I need space
so I can think things through logically and rationally."

"I don't think logic and reason apply here. I used to. But I don't anymore."

"I just need some space."

"Then take it. But, don't stay gone too long."

"I'll miss you."

"I'll miss you, too."

We hung up. I felt heartbroken. I called Avery and then Bruce. I woke each
of them up. I cried as they tried to comfort me.

Chapter Eight

I didn't see Mace the rest of January. Through the grapevine, I heard that
Mace was working out in the morning, presumably to avoid running into my
accidentally at the gym.

My Mondays were maudlin. I used to look forward to them, as I had Mace all
to myself. Now, I hated them.

I sublimated my feelings for Mace in other boys. I time traveled back to
Seaver College, fucking everyone I could. One in particular caught my
fancy. He was older and a lean 6'6". He had shoulder length blond hair but
almost no hair anywhere else on his body. I met him at the grocery store. I
first ran into him at the deli counter. He had the number before me. He
introduced himself as Christian while we waited.

"I'm Juan," I responded, holding out my hand.

"It's nice to meet you, Juan," he responded, holding onto my hand longer
than he should have.

I next ran into him in the dairy section. He bumped his cart into mine.
"Sorry, Juan," he said, laughing. "I'm not a very good driver."

"That's okay," I responded. "It's a rental."

I last ran into him in the checkout line. There were only two lines open,
and the wait was long. He ran his cart into mine again. "Sorry, Juan," he
smiled. "I've been drinking."

"I haven't."

"Can I buy you a drink, then?"

"Sure."

We didn't wait to pay for our food. We left our full cars in line and
headed out. As we walked out, I suggested it made more sense to drink the
free booze that was at my apartment, only a block away. Christian responded
by taking my hand and telling me to lead the way.

Christian's body was perfectly proportional. Since he was 78 inches tall,
that meant he had large hands, large feet, and a large cock. Within moments
of entering my apartment, I was sliding up and down on it as he got
acquainted with Pipi. I shuddered as I came.

When I was done shooting, Christian flipped me onto my back and continued
to deliver himself to me. As I felt him swell, he pulled out, pulled the
condom off, and came all over my stomach and chest. As he licked his cum
out of my hair, I got hard. He took me in his mouth and pushed his long
middle finger into my ass, finding my prostate and gently playing with it
until I unloaded deep into his throat. For the first time since I had
started whoring around again, I didn't think of Mace

"I still owe you that drink," I said, heading toward the kitchen. "What's
your pleasure?"

"Well, if that was any indication, you," he answered, following me.

I was making vodka tonics when Christian came up behind me, pressed his
dick between my shoulder blades, and put his hands into my chest hair. I
put my head back against his chest and raised my hands to his face. We
stayed like that until Christian was hard. I turned around, kissed my way
down to his dick, and blew him. I was pinned against the refrigerator
getting my face fucked when Christian pulled out and shot all over my
chest. I was disappointed. I had wanted him to come in my mouth

As he had before, he licked his cum out of my hair and kept going to my
cock. After he worked me for awhile, he told me he wanted me to fuck him. I
grabbed a condom out of the stash I kept in the kitchen, rolled it on, and
fucked him on the kitchen floor. When he raised his legs to my shoulders, I
almost burst out laughing. I felt like chihuahua riding a mastiff.

Christian stayed the night. We introduced ourselves to each other as we
recovered from serial orgasms.

He had just moved from L.A. He had literally run into me at the grocery
story his first full day in town. He moved after the demise of a long-term
relationship for a fresh start. He was 32 and an architect. He designed
amusement park rides. He had a thing for Latinos. His body was lean from
surfing.

In addition to long blonde hair and hairless body, he had bright blue eyes,
a thin nose, and slightly crooked teeth. Like Tom Cruise, his second
incisor overlapped his first on the top.
  Christian was at my door that night when I got back from the gym. We
repeated the evening and night before. After we had sexed each other up, we
sat on my patio and smoked pot. The moonlight illuminated Christian's
beautiful body. I slid my right foot under his leg.

"This is fun," Christian said.

"It is."

"It can't be more than that. I just got out of a seven year relationship. I
can't dive right into another one."

"I'm not asking you to. I'm not really a relationship guy. I'm young. I
like to play."

"You can play with me whenever you want. You're beautiful. And, you're a
great lay. As good as it gets."

"You're not bad yourself. I love fucking you."

"Prove it," Christian said, pulling me to my feet and leading me to the
bedroom. I felt tiny as Christian sat on my cock and rode me. He was all
arms and legs.

Christian joined us for brunch the following Sunday. I wanted him to meet
Avery and Bruce. I thought he'd be a good addition to the GGs.

After Christian left to go surfing, I brought the boys up to speed.

"Jesus, Juan," Bruce said. "That guy is smoking hot."

"And big," Avery added. "How's his cock?"

"Proportional," I answered.

"Good. I bedded a big guy once, and his dick was tiny. It was like jacking
a thumb. I was so disappointed."

"You gonna keep fucking him?" Bruce asked.

"I hope so. The sex is great. He knows how to lay pipe."

*****
Christian was over almost every night. He stayed most nights. He was
sexually adventurous, and there was little we didn't do to each other. I
wasn't into piss or shit, but I was up for everything else.

I convinced him to stop wearing deodorant. And, to stop washing his hair
every day.
I loved the way he smelled. From all his time in the ocean, he had a
natural saltiness to him.

He finished inside me only when I rode him. Otherwise, he pulled out and
sprayed onto my face, chest, and stomach. The sight of his dick erupting
turned him on, and he loved the taste of himself.

After three weeks like that, we seemed to be dating by default. Christian
didn't like bars, so we didn't go out. We made dinners together on Friday
and Saturday nights. He stayed over all the time. On Sundays, we went to
brunch together after sexing Sunday morning away.

The first Sunday in February, Avery raised Mace at brunch. I had not
mentioned Mace to Christian, so the brunch lasted longer than most. As we
walked back to my apartment, Christian asked me if I was in love with Mace.
I admitted I was.

"Well, Puta, have you told him that?"

"Kind of. I told him I love him."

"It's not the same. You love Avery and Bruce. You aren't in love with them."

"I know."

"You should tell him."

"He's in love with someone else."

"I gathered that from brunch. But, that doesn't mean he isn't in love with
you, too. You can be in love with more than one person at a time. I found
that out. That's why Matt and I are no more. He fell in love with someone
else, too. I didn't want to share. So, I left. Matt moved right in with
Lan. So, I left L.A. I just couldn't bear it."

When we got to my building, I asked Christian if he wanted to come up. With
our history, he understood I was asking him to bed.

"Nah. I think you should think a little bit." He pulled my head into his
chest and kissed the top of it. "Call me later. I'd like to know what
you're thinking."

I couldn't sleep, so I called Bruce.

"Christian's definitely into you. Didn't you see how agitated he became by
the talk of Mace? He can claim he's not ready for a relationship, but I
think all you'd have to do is say the word, and he'd jump right in."

"There's no room."

"Not until you shit or get off the pot with Mace, there isn't."

"You should write poetry."

"I know."

Chapter Nine

I bought a red shirt for Bruce's annual "Lonely Hearts" Valentine's Day
Party. No couples were allowed. Only singles.

Christian towered over everyone. He wore red pants, a white shirt, and a
red bow tie. He looked like the Good Humor man.

I was surprised when Timmy showed up. I was standing next to Avery when he
walked in, and I said "uh oh."

Avery responded, "Fret not, little flower. He's here for Bruce, not you."

"Really?"

"Yep. After that brunch you dragged him to, Bruce ran into him at the bar
and took him in. They're kind of dating. They're sweet together, if Bruce
is ever sweet with anyone."

"I thought no couples were allowed."

"It's Bruce's party. He gets to do what he wants. Besides, Christian's
here."

"We're not a couple."

"If you're sleeping with someone exclusively and spending all your time
with that someone . . . ."

"We're no longer sleeping together . . . ." I caught myself mid-sentence as
Mace walked in. I had not seen him for over a month. He noticed me almost
as soon as I noticed him. He cocked his right eyebrow, smiled, and gave me
a little wave. I raised my hand back.

"Things . . . just . . . got . . . interesting," Avery intoned.

Just as I was about to make my way toward Mace, Christian settled next to
me on the sill, put his arm around my shoulder, and stroked my scruff with
the back of his finger.

"You look kind of like the devil, Juan. All dark smoldering sex in that red
shirt."

"You look like you should be peddling ice cream," Avery said, beating me to
it.

"Virtue on the outside. Vice on the inside," Christian responded. "I'm
wearing a red thong, Juan. If nothing better comes along, I'll show it to
you later."

Something better came along. Mace was in front of me. Neither of us said a
word. I stood up, wrapped my arms around him, and buried my face in his
hair. He held me as tight as I held him.

I whispered "I've missed you" in his ear.

He whispered "I've missed you, too" back.

"Hey Avery," Mace said, grabbing his hand once he let me go.

"Welcome back, Mace," Avery said, pulling him into a hug. "We've missed
you."

"I've missed you guys."

"So," Christian interjected, standing up. "You're Mace. I've heard tons
about you. It's good finally to meet you. I'm Christian."

"Me, too," Mace joked. "Actually, lapsed Catholic."

We all groaned. Mace had gone for the cheap laugh and missed.

"Christian," Avery suggested. "I think we should let these two boys catch
up. Buy me a drink."

"They're free."

"Then, I'm the cheapest date you're ever going to have."

When they were gone, Mace and I just stared at each other. I didn't know
what to say. I didn't want to ask any questions, because I didn't know if I
could handle the answers.

I sat back down on the sill. Mace sat next to me. He put his head on my
shoulder, and I put my head on his. He took my left hand in his right,
wrapping his fingers in mine. I covered the back of his hand with my other
one, and he put his free hand over mine. I closed my eyes and tried to
breathe. The revelry continued around us, but the room went silent for me.

I don't know how long we sat like that. Timmy popped our bubble with the
flash from his camera.

"Do you want to get out of here?" I asked.

"Desperately."

We didn't say good-bye to anyone. I led Mace to the street. We held hands
and walked. We didn't talk.

Inadvertently, we wound up in front of my building. We held hands and
stared at each other.

"I hate when you're gone," I said.

"I know."

"Don't go away again."

"I won't."

I kissed him softly on the lips. "Do you want to come upstairs?" I asked.

"Yes. But, I can't. Not yet."

He kissed me softly on the lips and headed down the street. I fell asleep
thinking about "not yet."

*****
My telephone started ringing at zero dark thirty. No one wanted to wait for
brunch to talk.

Avery got me first. We spent twenty minutes speculating about the meaning
of "not yet." We spent the the last five discussing Avery's disclosure that
he had laid Christian. Apparently, Christian convinced him that he and I
were not sleeping together any more, and Avery pounced.

"Dude's a great lay," Avery said.

"He is."

"I hope you don't mind."

"It wouldn't matter if I did."

"You're right."

"I don't."

Bruce got me second. We also spent twenty minutes speculating about the
meaning of "not yet." We spent the next five discussing Timmy. We finished
with me telling him to "be good to that kid." He promised he would.

Christian got me third. He didn't want to spend a lot of time on "not yet."

"It's not ambiguous," he said. "It means what it means."

"I'm not so sure."

"You should be. And, he's lucky. You're a catch, Juan."

"Thank you."

"I want to tell you something.'

"You don't have to. I already talked to Avery."

"Not about that. About you."

"What?"

"Hold on tight. Don't let go. Enjoy the peaks. Be strong in the valleys."

"Thanks, Christian."

*****
Mace was at the gym Monday night when I got there. I assumed we would hang
out after, like we had before the interregnum. But, Mace told me he
couldn't.

"You want to do something this weekend?"

"I can't. I'm going to St. Louis for Freddie's wedding."

I knew John would be going, too. And, I started seriously doubting our
speculation about "not yet." All evidence suggested we were wrong. John was
still there, Mace was going to see him, and Mace was not available to me. I
pouted and went home.

I didn't want to be alone. I thought about calling Christian, but I wanted
sex without any suggestion of more. So, I called Avery.

"Come on over," he said. When I got to Avery's apartment, Christian was
there. Any sense of wonder as to what was up was resolved when Christian
and Avery started kissing and stripping and headed toward Avery's king
sized bed. We were going to have a three-way.

As hands and lips and tongues covered my body, I lost control of my senses.
My tongue was in Avery's mouth and my cock was in Christian's. Then,
Avery's tongue was in Christian's mouth and his cock was in mine. Then,
Christian's tongue was in my mouth and his cock was in Avery's.

Avery penetrated me first. I was on my back, and Avery was over me.
Christian was behind Avery, penetrating him while he penetrated me.

We changed positions. We were all in the bed, facing the same direction. I
penetrated Christian while Avery penetrated me.

Christian was afraid to take Avery. Malabar intimidated him. We coached him
through it, and I penetrated Avery while he penetrated Christian.

It was a round robin, and it just kept going and getting better. We came in
and all over each other. It was by far the best sexual experience I had
ever had. When we were finished, Avery pulled the comforter over us, and we
slept, covered in each other's cum and wrapped in each other's arms.

While Avery made breakfast the next morning, Christian fucked me in the
shower. He was so tall, I had to hang from his neck and take him with my
back pressed to the tile. It was awkward and uncomfortable.

While I cleaned up after breakfast, Avery fucked Christian in the bed. I
got hard listening to Christian gasp as Avery pounded Malabar in and out of
him, so I moved to the door and jacked Pipi while I watched Malabar appear
and disappear. I came when he did, filling my hand.

Chapter Ten

The sex had distracted me from Mace. When I returned home, my plight
overwhelmed me again. I tried to study, but I thought only of Mace. I
decided to call him.

"Can I talk you before you go to St. Louis?"

"Sure. Want to grab a drink after the gym?"

"Very much."

"Okay. It's a date."

After we worked out, we settled into a booth. Neither of us had showered,
and the smell of man was strong and intoxicating.

I got right to the point. "Did your time away provide any clarity?"

"Not really."

"Either way?"

"Nope."

"But, you're back?"

"Yep. I see no reason to torture myself. I missed you guys . . . especially
you." He put his hand over mine.

"I want a life with you, Mace."

"I know."

"A long one. With a house and a cat and a dog and maybe a kid or two." I
raised his hand to my face and kissed the back of it. "I know you want all
of those things, too. And, I know you're never going to have them with
John. You can have them all with me. I would marry you right now."

Mace and I stared at each other as I let my words settle over him. I had
made my case. Neither of us spoke.

Mace finally pulled his hand from mine. "I should get going."

"Have a great trip."

"I'll see you when I get back."

"Not if I see you first," I joked, trying to break the tension. It didn't
work.

*****
I was sullen and surly the whole weekend. Avery suggested another three-way
to improve my mood. I turned him down.

Bruce brought Timmy to brunch. They were officially dating.

Avery brought Christian. They, too, were officially dating.

I was the fifth wheel. The camper or trailer, being pulled around.

I didn't hear any of the conversation. I left halfway through, bored and
distracted. I went to Black's Beach and waded in the water. I took a nap in
the sand.

I went home, opened a bottle of wine, and took a long bath. I dozed off.

I was startled awake by the doorbell. I had no idea how long I had been
asleep, but the water had gone cold.

I wrapped myself in a towel and went to the door. I was stunned to find
Mace through the peep-hole. I knew he was on the direct afternoon flight
from St. Louis. He must have come straight from the airport.

"Can I come in?"

"Of course."

Mace stalked past me. As soon as the door closed behind me, he pinned me to
it, pressing his mouth hard to mine. I opened my mouth, and Mace kissed me
as deeply as I have ever been kissed.

He stepped back, tugged his shirt over his head, and pinned me back to the
door with another long, deep kiss. As he kissed me, he pulled the towel
away, and grabbed my cock.

"I want you to make love to me," he whispered hungrily in my ear. "I want
to know what it feels like to have you inside me."

He didn't have to ask twice. I grabbed his belt, undid it, and pulled it
off. I unbuttoned his jeans, unzipped them, and pulled them down. While I
was before him, I put my mouth on his cock through his briefs. It was a
monster, and I couldn't wait to taste it. I pulled his briefs down and took
as much of him as I could in my mouth. He purred as I did.

I couldn't help myself. I sucked him hard. When he tried to get me to stop,
I refused. I kept at him until I felt his knees buckle and his balls
clench.

"Oh, God, Juan, I'm going to come," he panted. I let him, taking his load
in my mouth and throat. I swallowed all of him. I was in heaven.

I made love to him slowly on the bed. I devoured him first. I licked every
inch of his body. I rimmed him until he begged me to penetrate him.

I was raised on my arms as I moved in and out of him. We never broke eye
contact. My smile was as wide as it had ever been. I couldn't believe what
we were doing. I was inside of Mace. His legs were wrapped around me. It
wasn't a dream. It was real.

I came as hard as I ever had. I was soaked with sweat. I was dripping on
Mace, who also was sweating.

I collapsed onto him. His arms joined his legs around me. I was lost in joy.

"I love you, Mace."

"I love you, too, Juan."

I rolled off of him and onto my back. He rolled onto his side, raised up on
his right arm, and started playing with my chest and stomach hair.

"I love this mat."

"I do, too. I'd hate to be hairless."

He kissed me long and hard on the mouth. I put my hand in his hair and
pulled his mouth to mine as hard as I could. I didn't want the kiss to end,
but it did.

"So," I broached. "What happened in St. Louis?"

"Well . . . . After we had drinks, I knew what I needed to do. I wanted to
cancel the trip. I would have, but it was Freddie's wedding. I couldn't
miss Freddie's wedding. I ached as I flew east. I wanted to be here with
you, getting this started. Once I saw John, I started having doubts. It's
hard to let go of your first love. I thought a lot about what you had said
to me. I asked him if he would marry me if he could. He didn't say yes,
which meant no. I knew then and there where I belonged. And, my doubts were
resolved. I knew I had made the right decision."

"What if he had said yes?"

"My doubts would've lingered. But, I'd have resolved them. I thought about
and missed you all weekend. I told Freddie about you. I couldn't wait to
get back to you. I'm where I belong."

"Did you tell John about me?"

"No."

"Can we make love again?"

"Yes."

We did. Slowly and gently. It was traumatic for me. I had never combined
raw emotion and pure pleasure like that. I was crying when I came inside
Mace for the second time, laying flat against his chest with his legs
wrapped around me. We were both crying when he came inside me, laying flat
against my back, his hands in my hands, his face in my hair, and his feet
flat against my feet.

Mace fell asleep, and I tiptoed out of the room, pulling the door shut
behind me. I called Bruce first and whispered the news to him. He asked me
if I wanted him to call Avery and Christian, and I said no. I didn't want
them to think they were second fiddle.

I heard Avery relay the news to Christian. "Juan won. So Mace lost."

"You're an asshole."

"That's why you love me, Puta."

*****
Mace moved his stuff in the next morning. We tried to sublet his apartment,
but we couldn't. So, we used it for storage.

I asked Mace if he was nervous about going from one serious relationship to
another. He matter of factly said "no." We never discussed it again.

We didn't really discuss John, either. I knew they continued to talk, which
was fine with me. If he could bear the presence in my life of guys I had
fucked -- Avery and Christian, among many -- then I could bear telephone
visits to the man I had bested in the race for Mace's heart.

Avery asked if I worried that I had won by default. I assured him I had
not, that Mace had chosen me before any choice was made for him.

I didn't care if I had won by default. I cared only that I had won, that
Mace was beside me, and that Mace is beside me as I write this. I am
looking at the picture Timmy took at Bruce's party as I write. It's our
favorite picture.

Epilogue

My mother was right. Once I landed Mace, I forsook all others. He became
everything to me.

Our life together has been great. We got our house, our cat, our dog, and
our kids,  Andres and Camilo, brothers from Colombia. We still hunger for
each other sexually. We still talk without talking.

We still have Bruce. Timmy's gone. He didn't last long. Fortunately, he
didn't take Bruce with him.

We still have Avery and Christian. They like to crow that they've been
together longer than we have. They also laugh at our old-fashioned
relationship. Theirs is open and very busy. Their front door should have a
turnstile.

I met John at his wedding to Susan. He had asked Mace to stand up for him,
but Mace refused. He said he couldn't witness a lie. He could attend, but
he couldn't stand up.

I saw what Mace had seen in John. He was charismatic and handsome. I was
smitten with him before I knew it.

I also saw that John was still in love with Mace. You could see it in his
eyes, in the way he looked at him, in the way he brightened when he talked
to or touched him.

I didn't see the same thing when Mace looked at him. I saw it when he
looked at me.

Mace and I got married last year, 20 years to the day from the first time
we made love. Our sons stood up for us. Avery, Bruce, and Christian all
made it. So did John, now thrice divorced and still struggling against
everything he's afraid to be.

Our parents did not. Mace's father died very young. His mother got to meet
her grandsons, but we dallied too long to get married. Cancer claimed her
first.

My parents moved back to Bogota when it stabilized. They thought of moving
back when we got the boys, but didn't. They should have. They died
violently.

We are still in San Diego. Mace lawyers, I doctor, and we spend our spare
time chasing or shuffling our boys from here to there.

It's not the life I expected when I was 24 or 25 and thought I knew way
more than I did. But, it's the life I wanted, at least once I met Mace. We
are living happily ever after.