Road Rage
Chapter 1:
I've been making the same commute for the last three years, and during that time I've gotten to know a few of my fellow commuters; not personally, just by their car and their morning habits. There's the forty something lady in the silver Expedition who prefers to do her morning makeup routine while on the move. There's the early twenties something guy in the blue Honda slamming an energy drink while jamming crappy music that makes my car vibrate at stop lights. There's the inevitable mom in the mini-van, talking on her cell phone, yelling at her kids and living life in the left lane; completely unaware of the line of traffic behind her. Eh, she's aware of us, she just doesn't give a damn. There are others of course, but I won't bore you with a car by car description of everyone. Suffice it say I've shared the road with the same group of people for the last three years and I've also gotten to know their moods. That helps to explain why this morning kind of surprised me.
Then there's the guy in the plain, white Ford pickup; you know the kind; the company vehicle of choice for thousands of blue-collar businesses across the country. This one, like all the others, has a name on the door and a sign on the tailgate telling us to call his boss if he pisses us off on the road. I've seen this guy every morning, five days a week for the last three years. He lives in the same sub-division I live in; just three blocks away. We've never talked to each other and I don't know a thing about his life, but I do know how he drives. He's probably the most relaxed, calm, take-it-easy driver I've ever come across. He never blocks intersections, he will stop and hold up traffic to let someone turn left into a business or whatever and he always, always uses his turn signals. We've shared the same route to work day after day; he works about a mile from where I work, and I've always been amazed at how calm he stays. Until this morning, that is.
My biggest pet peeve on the road is someone riding my ass. If you're gonna ride my ass at least have the courtesy to give me a reach-around. Now if we're in bed together you can ride my ass all you want; providing the courtesy reach-around is happening, but do not ride my ass in your car. I looked up in the mirror and all I saw was a silver grill with a blue oval on it. He was so close I wasn't even sure of the color of the truck. I looked in my door mirror and was able to make out who it was; calm guy. What the fuck? We were travelling on a four-lane divided road, doing about forty-five and he was about three inches off my bumper. I let off the gas; my first course of action in these scenarios. I've always wanted to just slam on the brakes but I don't want my car getting butt fucked. I slow down to thirty-five and he honks. I flip him off in the mirror. He jumps out in the left lane, no signal and zooms by me and then jumps right back in front of me. Asshole. We travel another three blocks and he slams on the brakes and yanks his truck into the C-Store on the corner. By this time I'm not only curious about what was going on with him but pissed as well. I follow him into the C-store. He's already out of his truck and heading inside. I pull up behind his truck and block him in, waiting for him to come back out. I'm sitting on the fender of my car when he comes back out two minutes later. I stand up and look at him.
"What the fuck, dude; you were trying to run me over!"
"Get your fuckin' car outtta of my way or I will; I don't have time for this bullshit."
"No! What the fuck is going on? You're like the easiest going person out here and now you're fuckin' Luke Duke. Did you really have to piss that badly?"
"Yeah, actually; now move your damn car!"
"I'm not moving shit until you calm down. That's just what the world needs; another pissed off asshole out on the road."
"Get your fuckin' car outta my way before I push it out!"
"Knock yourself out, dipshit. Can you say company insurance and new car for me?"
"I gotta get outta here! Move your goddamned car!"
"What the hell is the big rush? You've still got twenty minutes to go five miles; get over it!"
"Fuck you, asshole. I need to get to work; now move your goddamned car! And how the fuck do you know how much further I have to go?"
"Because we've shared this same fucking commute for the last three years, dipshit. You live three blocks from me and work a mile from where I work. Don't you ever look around while you're driving?"
"No, I pay attention to the traffic. Now move your fucking car!"
"Fine. Try not to kill anyone, you fucking moron."
"Lick my nuts!"
I roll my eyes and get back in my car while he's getting in his truck. I back out quickly in case he decides to ram into my car. He screeches backwards about fifty feet and then goes tearing out of the parking lot. Luckily there wasn't anyone coming or he would've taken them out for sure. I pull out of the parking lot and continue on my way to work, shaking my head and wondering what had made such a drastic change in an otherwise easy-going person. I decide to do a drive-by where he works, seeing if he actually made it there alive. I have no idea; there's a sea of white pickup trucks and I can't tell one from the other. I shake my head again and head to work. About an hour later, as I'm sitting at my desk and waiting for the server I'm working on to boot, I start thinking about the whole thing again. Then I start thinking about him and his last comment. Under different circumstances I probably would've given serious thought to his last comment of lick my nuts.
I guess that, along with my comment about riding my ass in bed gives you a good indication of my bent in life. Yeah, I'm gay. Big deal. So are millions of others, right? My name is Brian Andrew Decker. Now there are some parents with a sense of style; they gave me the initials B.A.D. I'm thirty-one years old and I've been out of college for six years. I got my degree in computer information systems and then spent three years working retail sales before getting the job I have now. I'm a junior level systems analyst and make a respectable forty-five grand a year. I live in the house my last partner and I bought together seven years ago. He found him some eighteen year old twink and sold me his share of the house. I got the better end of that deal. He and his twink moved to another city and I haven't heard from either of them since. Good riddance, I say. Am I bitter? Maybe just a little. When you're only twenty-nine and get dumped for someone younger if gives you pause. Chris and I met in my sophomore year of college and I thought I'd found the one. He was everything I thought a life-partner was supposed to be. Charming, sexy, funny, smart, and great in bed and had a good job. Who knew thirty was his cut-off point for men? I mean, really, he's only five months younger than me.
I can't compete with an eighteen year old in cute but I think I look pretty damn good. I'm six feet tall, weigh one-seventy and have light brown hair that I keep short with a number 2 clipper cut from my local barber, and brown eyes. I try to spend at least three days a week at the gym or in my spare room lifting weights and working out. I walk two miles on the tread mill every morning and do from fifty to hundred crunches before hitting the shower and getting dressed for work. My ass is nice and round and firm and I have a nice cock, weighing in at seven inches. I'm not a hairy beast, but I do have trimmed chest hair and a nice treasure trail. What the hell did that twink have that I don't? Youth. I only saw him once; the day I'd walked in on them fucking in my bed. Typical twink. Blond hair, blue eyes, five-eight at best and probably a buck thirty soaking wet. He did have a nice ass; I saw it getting rammed by my man's cock, but no nicer than mine. Maybe virgin; at least before he met and hooked up with Chris. Fuck `em both.
After Chris and junior left I decided I'd fly solo for awhile. I've hooked up with one guy since then but that was a disaster. It started as a blind date, set up by one of my female co-workers and evolved into me giving him a five-minute blowjob before he nutted in my mouth without warning. I spit his load back onto his crotch and he pulled his jeans up and told me thanks and he had to get going. The date really hadn't gone too badly; we had a nice dinner at a decent restaurant and then spent about an hour at a club. We'd started making out and that led back to my place to ramp it up a little. I think he was there all of eight or nine minutes, and I hadn't even managed to get my zipper down. I told my co-worker the next day to scratch my name off her list of people that need a date. I have a couple of toys and a fully functioning right hand; I don't need the headaches of pencil dick men with hair triggers.
That was a year ago. I've gotten really horny since then. I've noticed myself lusting after everything with a cock at my gym. I also have some eye candy at work but they're both very straight and very married. Maybe that explains my re-thinking what dipshit said this morning about licking his nuts. I have to be honest; I've checked him out numerous times while we've been next to each other at a light and he looks pretty tasty. I'm guessing him to be in his mid to late thirties. He's probably five ten and around one seventy to one seventy five. He has almost the same color hair as mine, just as short and blue eyes. He also has a really sexy, short beard and nice, full, kissable lips. Today's actually the first time I've ever seen him standing up and I liked what I saw. He was wearing snug Levi's, a uniform shirt and work boots. I know he's an electrician; at least the truck he drives says he's one, and I do like masculine, blue-collar men. His shirt didn't have his name on it, just the name of the company. And like I said, I don't know anything about him. He could be married with kids and 2.5 dogs for all I know. Maybe I'll do a drive-by of his house when I get home. I know he lives three blocks from me because I've seen his truck parked out front all the time but I've never driven by his house. I guess if I see a swing-set and jungle gym in his back yard I'll know if he's married with children.
The day passes fairly quickly and I'm soon on my way home. I go around the block after I come into our sub-division so I can swing by his house without having to turn around and drive by again to get back to mine. I ease by his place at about fifteen miles per hour and look it over. No kid stuff in the back yard but there is a car in the driveway. Could be his wife's or it could be his personal vehicle. Or hell, it could be his boyfriend's. I shrug my shoulders and continue on to my house. I pull into my garage and head inside, leaving the big door open so I can have a cross-draft through the kitchen.
I've been home about twenty minutes, changed out of my work clothes and put on a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, along with my worn-out, really need to buy a new pair tennis shoes. I'm standing in the kitchen looking in the fridge, waiting for divine intervention on what to have for dinner when I hear someone in my garage.
"Hello..."
I walk over to the little door and look in the garage. He's standing next to my car and looking at me, a small grin on his face. I open the screen door and look at him, my face neutral.
"Oh, it's Luke Duke. Nice to see you made it back alive. Come to finish off my car?"
"I guess I deserve that. No, I came to apologize for this morning. I'm sorry."
"Okay... Thanks for stopping by but I gotta get back to staring in my fridge."
He smirks. "Does it do tricks?"
"If only. If it did it would tell me what I'm having for dinner, and then make it."
"We must have the same kind of fridge; that stubborn bitch never gives me any help. Tell ya what. To make up for this morning let me buy ya dinner. I'll even throw in a few beers to wash it down."
"Gave up on the road rage and decided on poisoning me, huh?"
He smirks again. "You're a real smart-ass. But no, I wasn't gonna cook it. There's a really good steak house down on Miller Street. Let me buy ya a good steak and cold beer. Please."
"I know the place. You have a deal, on two conditions."
"What?"
"You have to tell me what the fuck was going on this morning and I'm not riding with you."
He laughs. "Agreed. But like you said, you've seen me drive every day for the last three years and I've never done that before. I wouldn't get us killed."
"You'll understand if I'm not willing to take that chance just now. Let me go throw some jeans on; I'm not quite dressed for dinner out."
"You look fine. I don't think they have a dress code. Just grab your keys and a license."
I look at him for a moment. He grins. I roll my eyes and go back inside to get my keys and wallet. When I come back to the garage he's standing in the exact same spot. I roll my eyes again and step out into the garage, walking over to the driver's side of my car. He smirks again.
"You can stop rolling your eyes at me anytime. Like I said, I'm sorry about this morning. Haven't you ever had a really fucked up day before?"
I exhale. "Yeah... I've had some doozies. Sorry. I guess everyone's entitled to a really fucked up day once in a while."
"Thanks. My name's Mark, by the way."
"Brian. Nice to meet the normal you."
He grins. "Is this the normal you? A smart-ass?"
I finally grin. "Yeah, pretty much. I guess I'll give you benefit of the doubt and put on my nice guy routine." I reach over the car to shake his hand. "Brian Decker; nice to meet ya, Mark."
He shakes my hand. "Mark Reynolds, aka Luke Duke. Nice to meet ya."
I laugh and open my door. We both get in the car and drive over to the steak house in silence. I'm not sure what to make of him or his offer of dinner, but my curiosity about this morning got the better of me and I accepted his invitation. Besides, who turns down a free steak and beer? Once we're seated and the waiter has gone to get our beers I look at him and grin.
"OK, we have beer on the way. Now tell me what the hell happened this morning."
He looks away a minute and then turns back to me. "I was about to lose my job. I got my ass chewed for thirty minutes on the phone this morning about a wiring job I did on a new building yesterday. The building burned to the ground last night. Faulty wiring. Well, faulty install. My install. I didn't have the grounds hooked up correctly and when the owner threw the power on the spark flew. Scared the shit out of him but he got out and called 911. After my ass chewing from my boss my only thought was getting to work and trying to save my job. I'd had six cups of coffee and they hit with a vengeance about the time I was closing on you. I was about to piss my pants and you slowed down. We know the rest."
"Did you save your job?"
"Just barely."
"I'm sorry about jumping your shit this morning, but I really really hate people riding my ass. I looked in my mirror and saw nothing but grill and Ford emblem. Slowing down is how I try to deal with that without stopping and beating the crap out of the driver behind me. And once I figured out it was you I was just shocked. You're always so patient with other drivers. Part of me wanted to kick your ass and the other part wanted to know what the hell was going on."
Our beer arrived and we both took a big swallow. The waiter stayed there, waiting for our order so we both told him what we'd like and he went away. Mark took another swig of his beer and grinned at me.
"So just how many people have you beaten the crap out of?"
I smirk. "None. Hell, this morning was the first time I've ever confronted anyone about it. It usually plays out with them getting twiterpated, passing me and flipping me off while I do the same. This was just so out of character for you, I had to find out what was going on."
"You seem to think you know a lot about me just from watching me drive. Do you always asses people based on their driving habits?"
I grin. "There isn't much else to do while driving along. Have you ever noticed the woman in the silver Expedition? She does her morning makeup every day while driving. Then there's the dipshit in the Honda who thinks we all need to listen to his music. I get a feel for people while watching them in their own little worlds."
He grins. "You like that word `dipshit'. You called me one a couple of times this morning."
I laugh. "So, you called me an asshole. We're even."
He laughs and takes another swig of his beer. "Yeah, I guess we are. I really am sorry about this morning. I was fucking freaking out and didn't want to lose my job."
I smile at him. "Apology accepted. I'm glad you didn't lose your job. And thank you for dinner; you really didn't have to."
"Yeah, I did. I couldn't have you looking at me every morning thinking I was the biggest asshole, or dipshit in this case, on the planet."
I laugh. "Eh, I would've stopped thinking of you as a dipshit in a couple of weeks."
He grins. "Gee thanks. So tell me about Brian Decker. What does he do other than watch his fellow drivers?"
I smile. "I'm a junior system's analyst for a wireless internet service provider. I basically help setup new servers and switches and crap like that. I have no life outside of work and watching you people drive to and from work every day." He laughs. "I'm thirty-one, single and getting to know the T.V. lineup a lot better than I ever wanted to."
"Sounds fascinating. Did you grow up around here?"
"No. I moved here to go to college and stuck around. I decided I liked living in a smaller city. So what's Mark Reynolds' story?"
"I thought I was a master electrician until this morning." He grins. "No, they didn't bust me down... I too am very familiar with the T.V. line-up. I'm thirty-six, divorced and have a fourteen year old son who lives with his mother and step-father on the other side of the country. I drive back and forth to work every day being sized up by the guy in the black Maxima."
We both laugh. I look at him, grinning. "Well, try not to feel too special; I do it to everyone. How often do you get to see your son?"
"Not nearly enough. I miss him like I would miss my eyesight. He flies out here twice a year to spend two weeks with me. And when I have the time I fly out there and check into a hotel and spend a few days with him. I've missed the last three years of his life and I'm gonna miss the next God knows how many more."
"I'm sorry, Mark. That really sucks. What's his name?"
"Jared."
I smile at him. "OK, proud dad, I know you have a picture; let's see it."
He smiles from ear to ear, pulling out his wallet and opening it up to pull the picture out. He hands me a picture of him and his son. They're standing next to a lake, with fishing hats on, holding poles and smiling for the camera.
"That was taken three months ago when he was here last time. We decided to just get away for the entire two weeks and go fishing. The picture was taken by a guy that just happened to be there fishing that day."
"It's a great picture. You both look really happy to be fishin'. Did you catch any?"
He grins. "He did. He was so proud of it too. I was too."
"He's a good lookin' kid. He's in what, the eighth grade?"
"Yep. And thanks; he takes after his old man." He grins. "He's smart too. He's like you; he wants to be a computer guy. Well, hell, he already is; he's my go-to man when I need help with mine."
"It's always good to have a computer guy in the family. So, what, it'll be around Christmas time before he gets to come back out?"
"Yeah. He spends the week between Christmas and the week after New Year's with me."
I hand him the picture back and smile at him. "At least your ex gives you that with him; that's good."
"Yeah, we had a pretty amicable divorce; if there is such a thing. She was actually pretty fair about everything. She let me keep the house and didn't ask for alimony; just child support. I would've paid that anyway; I'm not gonna allow my son to go without support from his dad."
"Yeah, nothin' worse than a dead-beat dad; I know; I have one of `em. So, I guess here we sit, two work-alcoholics with no personal life." I hold my glass of beer up to him. "Here's to no life!"
He laughs, clinks my glass with his and takes a big gulp, me doing the same.
He sets his glass down and grins at me. "So, what about you? Ever been married?"
I look down for a second. "We're kinda establishing a friendship here; let's not fuck it up with my life story."
"So how long were you in prison?" He grins.
I laugh. "Nice try, dipshit; I wasn't in prison."
He laughs. "There ya go callin' me dipshit again. I'm gonna start takin' it personally at some point. So if not prison then mental hospital?"
I smirk and grin. "Yeah, that's the one."
He laughs. "Escaped, didn't ya?"
"Fuck yeah."
He laughs again. "Come on, tell me your story. Like you said, we're establishing a friendship here, you can't be all secretive or it doesn't work."
I take a drink of my beer and look at him. "OK... Not ever officially married, just played house with a guy for seven years."
He grins. "You're gay?"
I smirk. "Homo, but yeah..."
He laughs. "I thought gay was the politically correct term?"
"Gay's a lifestyle; I'm not a lifestyle."
He laughs again. "OK... So why'd you quit playin' house with this guy?"
"You know the story. Boy meets boy. Boy comes home from work one day and finds boy fucking different boy. Boy sends boy packin'."
He laughs his ass off. "Fuck... Well, my friend, welcome to the club. Boy meets girl. Boy comes home from work one day to find girl being fucked by different boy. Boy sends girl packin'."
We both laugh and take another drink. I look at Mark and smirk. "Fuck... So did your girl dump you for eighteen year old boy?"
He smirks. "No, but it might've made more sense to me. He's actually forty-three and kinda nerdy lookin'. He's an account executive at some brokerage firm in New York. I guess it was the money that did it. Jared tells me he makes like a half-million a year."
"That makes a lot more sense than some eighteen year old twink who makes eight bucks an hour flippin' burgers."
He laughs. "What the fuck is a twink?"
I laugh. "Young, scrawny dude. Picture blond hair, blue eyes, short and skinny. Kind of a Justin Beiber look-alike only short."
He laughs his ass off again. "I guess your guy wanted to re-live his youth. How long ago did he leave with twinky?"
"Three years. Fuck, about the same time yours did."
"Yeah, no shit, huh? Maybe they followed each other on the way out of the sub-division."
"Ya never know..." I take the last drink of my beer and look at him. "So I guess you don't have a problem with this?"
"What? Your man leavin' ya for Justin Beiber? Nah... The fact that you had a man? Nah... I got no problems with it, Brian. People are people and live and let live. I'm not some religious zealot who thinks it's a choice; I know it's not."
"Good. Let's order another beer; mine's gone. I'll get this round."
"Keep your money; I got this. Where's the waiter?"
"I haven't seen him since he dropped off the beer. Maybe they're all out back trying to catch the cow for our dinner?"
He grins. "Most likely out back smokin' a bowl. Hang loose; I'll head up to the bar and get it myself. Same poison?"
"Yeah, that'll work. Thanks Mark."
"No problem."
Mark returns with the beer at the same time our waiter shows up with the food; perfect timing. The waiter is apologetic about Mark having to get the beer himself and tells us this round is on him. We agree to it and he goes off to finish his bowl, or whatever he was doing before. Mark looks at me at grins.
"So what about the waiter? Does he do it for ya?"
I laugh. "So is this what it's gonna be like when we go out in public; you wondering if I'm drooling over every guy I see?"
He laughs. "No, I was just wondering. He seems like he's pretty good lookin'; I was curious if you thought so. I don't know what guys look for in a guy."
I laugh. "The same thing you look for in a girl; big tits and nice ass."
He laughs. "Yeah, right..."
"Well, OK, maybe not the big tits, but I do like a nice ass."
"So you're a top?"
"What do you know about tops and bottoms?"
"It's not like you're the first gay guy I've ever talked to."
"Fair enough. I'm actually versatile; I like both. But even a bottom boy knows when he sees a nice ass."
He grins. "OK. So does our waiter have a nice ass?"
"Not bad... It's hard to tell for sure in the black slacks that are two sizes too big for him."
He laughs and takes a bite of his steak. "If he ever comes back you can ask him to hike his pants up so you can check out his ass."
"Nah, that's OK. Yeah, he really doesn't do a lot for me. He's cute enough, but that's just it. I'm not interested in cute. I prefer sexy, strong and rugged."
"Paul Bunyan complex, huh?"
I laugh. "I guess..."
"OK, now I gotta ask. Describe the guy that does it for ya."
"You really wanna know, or are you just fucking with me?"
"I really wanna know. It's kind of interesting to see things from a different perspective. I hear all the time about the women guys want to fuck, why not learn what men look for?"
I look at him, mid-chew on the piece of steak I just popped in my mouth and consider. I wonder if he'll be able to deal with the answer I want to give. I finish chewing and swallow. I take a drink of my beer and look at him again.
"I don't know what you'll think of my answer, but here it is. You. You're the kind of guy that does it for me. And no, I'm not making a pass at ya."
He looks surprised. "Really?"
I smirk and grin. "Yeah, really; I'm not making a pass at ya."
He laughs. "Smart-ass. No, I meant I'm really the kind of guy that turns you on?"
"Yeah, you really are. You're sexy. And I love the beard; it looks perfect on ya."
He blushes. "Thanks, I guess. My wife would never let me grow one, so as soon as she was out the door I started growing it. I like it too. Thanks."
"You're welcome. Now eat your steak; you've embarrassed the hell out of me."
He laughs. "Me embarrass you? You just told me I was sexy; who should be embarrassed?"
"Me. You should be flattered."
He smirks. "Well, I guess I am, but still embarrassed."
"Yeah, but you won't be the one driving to work tomorrow with my car next to yours, kicking yourself in the ass for saying that out loud."
He laughs again. "I asked the question and you gave me an honest answer; don't kick yourself in the ass for it. If we're going to become friends then I expect you to be honest with me at all times. I don't like liars or fakes."
"Fair enough; I don't either."
He smirks and grins at me. "So are you gonna be fantasizing about me tonight?"
I laugh. "Now you're flattering yourself. Don't be arrogant; it's a turn-off."
"I wasn't trying to turn you on; I can be as arrogant as I want. Eat your steak, dipshit; before it gets cold."
I laugh my ass off, looking at him. Oh fuck... If only he were gay... I could so easily see myself with this man. I grin at him. "Get your own material; that one's mine."
"Show me the patent."
"Shut up and eat."
"You're pretty cocky for a gay boy who's never thrown a punch."
I grin at him again. "I am what I eat."
He turns beat red and I laugh. He cuts a piece of steak off and shoves it in his mouth. I laugh again and start eating.
We spend another two hours in the restaurant, eating our dinner and drinking beer; a lot of beer. Tomorrow is not going to be welcome; I always get a killer hangover from beer. I've also discovered in the two and half hours we've been here that I not only find him sexy, but pretty great in every other way as well. I can't remember the last time I had this much fun talking to someone. Chris and I never laughed like this and talked this freely. I may not have a boyfriend but I think I've made myself a great friend. When we finally get up to leave and I've managed to balance myself again he looks at me and smiles.
"I'm not ridin' with you, cowboy; you're drunk off your ass."
"I'm not drunk off my ass." I pat my own ass and grin at him. "It's right here; wanna feel?"
He laughs. "Maybe some other time. You really can't drive like this, Brian; let's call a cab. I'll drive you to work tomorrow or bring you over here to get your car. Seriously, dude."
"OK, I guess you're right. Are you gonna tuck me in when we get home?"
"No, I'm gonna pour you out of the cab and point to your front door; you can tuck yourself in."
I smile at him while holding myself up on his left arm. "I see how it is. You take me out on a date, make me fall for you and then just dump me on the curb. Fuckin' men."
He laughs. "This wasn't a date, dude. And I didn't make you do anything; you did that on your own. I'm not gonna just dump you on the curb; I'll make sure you get in your house. Now let's go."
I smile at him again, my inhibitions completely gone. "With you? Anywhere."
He smiles at me. "Don't go there, Brian; I can't give you what you want from me. We're friends only."
I nod and smile at him. We finally get a cab to show up and get back to our neighborhood. He has the driver stop at my house and then just sends him on his way. He walks with me to the front door and stands there, looking amused and a little uncomfortable while I'm trying to get my keys out of my shorts; they're stuck on a string. He finally can't take anymore of watching me fight with the string and slaps my hand away, tugging on my key ring to get it out of my pocket.
I smirk and grin at him. "Why are you trying to get in my shorts; I thought you were straight?"
"Shut up, dipshit. I'm tryin' to get your fuckin' key."
"Just stick the damn thing in the lock from my shorts; it'll reach; I have seven inches."
He laughs. "Fucker... shut up!"
"Stick something in my mouth."
"Shut up, dude; the fuckin' neighbor's are gonna hear."
"Fuck the neighbor's."
"I'll let you take care of that."
He finally gets my door unlocked and open and guides me inside. He parks me in a chair and looks at me, grinning.
"Go to bed, dude. You've got just over five hours before you have to get up to get ready for work."
"Fuck work."
"No, don't fuck work; you have to have a job."
"OK."
He laughs. "Goodnight, Brian; see ya in the morning. What's your phone number anyway, so I can call to wake your ass up?"
"You could just stay here and wake my ass up anyway you want to."
He shakes his head. "Phone number."
I give him my phone number while he programs it into his phone. For some reason he's not as drunk as I am and he matched me beer for beer. He puts his phone back in his back pocket while I'm watching him. I moan.
"Oh man, that's a nice ass."
"Thanks. Go to bed."
"Do I get a goodnight kiss?"
"No. Go crash on your bed and get some sleep. I'll see ya in the morning. `Night, Brian."
He turns to walk out and I call after him.
"Goodnight, sexy man. Sweaty dreams."
He laughs and waves to me over his shoulder while walking out the front door and closing it behind him. I stare at the door for a few minutes after he's gone and start crying. I've fallen in love with him and he's walked out; just like fuckin' Chris.
Thanks for reading. For questions, comments, concerns –
Jeff