This
is a fictional story which contains scenes depicting sexual acts. All the
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Part
2
Long
before my accident, long before I had even met a guy named Chris and
fallen in love and moved into a beautiful house that overlooked a wide
river, I had another life. It
wasn't a great life; it was a life that was just starting out, filled with
making mistakes, suffering disappointments, and quite often, loneliness. I
did all the things that most silly young buggers who have just left home
for the first time tend to do. I was testing the waters, seeing how far I
could go without facing total disaster. It
was fun, but even I have to admit that I wasn't entirely happy. What I
actually wanted, or what I needed, however, seemed so far out of reach as
to almost be impossible, so I spent my days, and especially my nights,
mostly disappointed. I've
told you my life story before haven't I? Getting a job in a department
store at seventeen, then leaving home at eighteen and taking a transfer to
the big city, setting out on life's sometimes wonderful, and sometimes
rocky, journey. Oh
yeah, and did I tell you the bit about me being gay? If you didn't know
already, maybe you figured that out when I mentioned Chris. Okay, so I guess that's the start of it, but by no means is it all there is to tell. Oh, no sir! *
* * So,
as I said, there I was, eighteen years old, and living away from home for
the very first time. It
was around the middle of November when I said goodbye to my parents and
hopped on a bus bound for When
I got off that bus I knew no one, I didn't know where the hell I was, and
it wasn't even six in the morning yet. We had crossed the Sydney Harbour
Bridge and I was immediately struck by the colours of the city in the dawn
light, pale hues of purple and blue, interspersed with bright neon in red
and green and yellow and purple. The sight was truly captivating. I had
finally arrived in the promised land, I thought. When
the bus pulled into the depot in the heart of the city and the twenty two
passengers and one driver climbed down on to the pavement, we soon found
that it was a cold morning. At the drivers suggestion we hurried inside
the depot then we all waited while our luggage was unloaded onto trolleys
to eventually be wheeled in for us to collect. While
I was waiting I grabbed a coffee from the vending machine and cupped the
hot container in my hands, trying in vain to warm them up slightly, while
also sipping at the murky liquid and trying to warm me up inside as well.
Soon the trolley came in through the sliding glass doors, bringing with it
another shot of cold air, and twenty one of the twenty two people
descended on it like vultures, while I stood back for a few minutes. When
most of them were gone, scurrying back out through the doors into the cold
summer morning in search of another bus or a taxi, I soon found my brown
suitcase and dragged it to the floor beside me, then after swallowing the
last of my coffee I picked up the suitcase and headed for the door also. There
was a taxi rank just down from the depot, but at the moment it stood
empty, with any vehicles that had been waiting having been quickly snapped
up by the first flush of passengers who had hit the ground running. 'There'll
be some more along shortly,' this guy said to me as I approached. He had
also been one of the bus passengers. There were three other fellow
travellers in front of him. I
guessed him to be around thirty, dressed in jeans and a blue and green
rugby top, with short black hair and a tanned, almost dark, complexion. I
found myself having thoughts about him that I just knew my parents
wouldn't approve of. 'Thanks,'
I replied. 'Where
are you headed?' he enquired. 'Errr
. . . Chatswood,' I replied. 'Starting a new job.' 'Ahhh
. . . first time in the city then?' 'Yeah,
something like that.' 'You'll
get the hang of living here pretty quickly,' he offered. 'At least you're
not going to be right in the middle of the city, but it's still close
enough for you to have a life and enjoy yourself. Public transport isn't
too bad, there's always a bus or train you can catch.' 'I
hope so,' I said. Just
then a taxi pulled up and two of the women in the line climbed in, before
it again sped off. Moments later another taxi arrived and the next man in
the queue was soon driven away as well. 'Which
way are you headed?' I asked my companion. 'Maroubra.
To the south,' he replied, before then putting his hand into his pocket
and pulling out a business card and passing it to me. 'The name's Dan,' he
said as he looked me up and down. 'Maybe we'll bump into each other some
place?' Suddenly
my head started spinning. Was he coming on to me? Fuck, I've only been in
the city five minutes! 'Nate,'
I said. I reached out my hand and he shook it. 'Give
me a call some time if you feel like it,' he said. 'I know what it can be
like when you first get here and don't know anyone. I'll buy you a drink
some time. I often hang out on I
had no idea, at the time, just where, or what, 'Errr
. . . thanks,' I replied, as another taxi arrived. 'That'd be great.' 'Well,
this is my ride. I hope things go well for you here,' he said, before
opening the door of the cab and climbing in. I
watched it as it drove away and saw Dan turn in his seat and give me one
last look. I was sure I saw him smile. I
didn't have to wait too long for another cab. 'Where
to?' the driver asked in a thick Middle Eastern accent as I climbed in. 'Chatswood,' I answered and pretty soon I was on my way. *
* * The
drive through the city and back out over the Harbour Bridge as the morning
was coming alive proved an interesting one, travelling through new
developments as well as many old and established areas. I sat forward in
the seat, looking out the window and trying to take in as much of the city
as I could, finding myself surprised at the amount of work being carried
out on buildings and roads. I
had a map of the city with me and was checking off in my mind where we
were going, finding each suburb and landmark as we motored along. I saw
the driver glance at the map several times, which was good, as at least he
knew that I had some idea of where I was going and he wouldn't be able to
swindle me out of extra money by taking the long way around. 'Whereabouts
in Chatswood?' the driver asked as we got closer to our destination. 'Twin
Pines shopping centre, please,' I replied, to which he gave me a nod. Today
was Wednesday and I wasn't really due to start work until the following
Monday, so I had a few days in which to get myself settled and to have a
look around. Maybe my new friend Dan might want to show me around, I
wondered. I
had spoken with the Personnel Manager on the phone several times in the
weeks leading up to my leaving home and she suggested that when I arrived
I should go and see her first thing when I got there. She had apparently
arranged some temporary accommodation for me while I found somewhere to
live and would give me the details, as well as introduce me to some of the
people I would be working with. After
being dropped off outside the shopping centre and paying the driver I
headed inside, carrying my suitcase with me, as there was nothing else I
could do with it for now. I soon found the store I was looking for,
however, as it was still twenty minutes away from eight o'clock it hadn't
opened as yet, so I waited on a seat in the plaza. Apart
from a few people starting to open their shop fronts and set up for the
day, as well as some other people entering through a side door, there
really was very little activity in the place. I
noticed a small coffee shop open up not too far from where I sat, so I
decided another coffee, and perhaps something to eat wouldn't hurt me. I
picked up my bag and set off for the shop, going straight to the counter
and placing an order, before then taking a seat at one of the tables
outside, so I could keep an eye out for when the main store opened. Presently
a waitress brought my coffee and toasted sandwich to my table, and as I
watched the morning come alive I ate my first Sydney meal . . . if that's
what it could be called. At
precisely eight-thirty the main doors of my new workplace opened, so I got
to my feet and picked up my suitcase and headed in that direction,
eventually finding myself standing at a Service Desk located just inside
the main doors. 'Can
I help you?' the woman behind the counter asked me. 'I'm
here to see Mrs. McNaught,' I said, while trying to muster as much self
confidence as I could. The
woman looked me up and down and I thought I could see the faintest of
smirks appear on her face. I guess I probably looked to be something of a
sight, having just spent fourteen hours on a bus, but at this hour of the
morning I was beyond caring, even if this was my first appearance here. I
already had the job, so what could they do? The
woman picked up a telephone and dialled through to what I guessed was the
personnel office, only to place the handset back down a few moments later. 'She
doesn't seem to be in her office,' the woman said. 'I'll page her over the
P.A. system for you,' which she promptly did. 'Thank
you,' I said to her. A
short time later the phone rang. 'Service
Desk,' the woman said as she answered it. 'Yes Julie, there's a young man
here to see you . . . . . . Okay, I'll let him know and send him down.' 'She
asked me to send you down to her office,' she said. 'If you walk straight
down this main aisle until you hit the back wall, then turn left, you'll
see the Lay-By Department just in front of you. Mrs. McNaught will meet
you there.' 'Thank
you,' I replied, then picked up my suitcase and started to walk away. 'Are
you one of the newbies?' the woman asked me. 'I
guess so, yeah.' 'You
can leave your bag here if you like. They get a bit funny about people
carrying cases around like that. Wouldn't want you to get stopped by
security before you had even started.' 'Thanks.
I appreciate that.' 'Just
pop it around the side there,' she said, pointing toward a short alley
between her desk and the first in a line of cash registers. 'I'll keep an
eye on it for you.' With a nod I headed toward where she directed me and dropped my bag, the headed down the aisle to meet my new boss. * * * It
didn't take long for me to settle in to my new life, even if working in a
city store was nothing at all like it was back home, with deliveries in
particular coming at the oddest of hours - which I had to often be on hand
for, much to my chagrin. As
for my workmates, well, they all seemed to be accepting of me and I got on
well with them, even if I wasn't what you could call particularly close to
any of them. Of those who I particularly liked, there were a couple of
guys that were in a similar situation to me, Simon McIntosh, who had
started just after I had, and Garry Raffael, who had arrived just this
week. Simon was a typical Aussie bloke, into fast cars and fun times, and
I figured he would be a lot of fun to be around. Too bad he was straight.
Garry, on the other hand, was quieter and rather reserved, although I
could possibly put that down to his being the new boy in a strange
environment. It wasn't that long ago that I was just like him, so I always
tried to help him out wherever I could. It
was certainly different to life back in the sticks, but I was enjoying it.
Sure, I missed my friends, and my parents of course (despite the reasons
for my wanting to leave there in the first place), and I often phoned home
to talk to them all; especially in those first few weeks. I
had met some interesting people, including Dan (from my first day in the
city), who had, of course, pegged me right when he mentioned Oxford Street
on that first day. We had met there that first Friday and I'd had a great
night out, yet even after my introduction to that part of town I was yet
to do anything more than dance with a few guys and have just one make out
session with a cute guy, which was interrupted by others hanging around us
and freaking us both out. There
had been several reasons for my wanting to move away from home, which
included facing up to the harsh realities of life in the country, where
decent jobs were few and far between in small towns. It is a fact of life
that we all need to earn a living to pay our own way, and this was brought
home to me all too well when my parents started asking me to pay board,
even from my meagre part-time wage from my first job, you know, now that I
had left school and was earning some money. 'A
man has got to stand on his own two feet,' my father had lectured me when
I protested to him. 'Your
father is right dear,' my mother had added. 'We can't support you
forever, you know.' I
couldn't win, so I figured that if I was going to earn my own money, then
I wanted to spend it on me, and not have to hand over a huge chunk of it
to someone else every pay day . . . although it wasn't until much later
that I realised I was now actually handing over even more than that each
week. Then
there was the fact that my father and I had, for as long as I can
remember, fought like cats and dogs. Nothing I ever did was good enough
for him. None of my friends were ever anything more than no-hopers,
bludgers or poofters. That's just the way it was. Just the way he was. I
realised that I needed to get out of there and live my own life and be
myself, rather than have to conform to the unrealistic image of the
perfect son they thought I was, so that was when my plans for my life
started to change. Big time. So,
there I was, in the middle of a strange city, living in a single room in a
boarding house (at least until such times as I could find -- or afford --
some place better), sharing a bathroom, working my butt off until the
oddest of hours, and with Christmas bearing down on me fast. Do
you get the picture? Jingle
Bells. Urrggh! Silent
Night. Hmmm . . . that one's not much better! When
A Child Is Born. C'mon, give me a break! Yeah.
I know what you're saying now. What a miserable son-of-a-bitch this guy
is. Well,
you may be right, but let me tell you, when you're working in a
department store for twelve hours a day in the lead up to Christmas, which
is of course the busiest time of year, and you've been listing to
Christmas Carols being piped over the P.A. system since before the start
of December, I can guarantee you that by the time you're starting that
final count down to Christmas day the sound of carols are the last thing
you that you are interested in. By
the time I made it back to my little room each night I was exhausted, and
there very few thoughts of going out on the town even entering my head. As
Christmas drew closer my work hours were getting longer and before I knew
it we were just days away from the main event. On the weekend before
Christmas I made my weekly call home to my parents. I hadn't really given
much thought about what I would be doing myself at Christmas . . . I guess
I figured I would be going home to see my parents, but when my mother
asked me what I was doing, then said they would be visiting her sister's
place themselves, who lived even further away from where I now was, I
suddenly found myself out in the cold . . . even if it was the middle of
summer! It
probably didn't matter, as I had to work right up until closing time on
Christmas Eve anyhow, and I didn't have any means of getting home anyhow,
so it looked like I would be spending Christmas alone. When
that realisation finally sank in I suddenly found myself deeply depressed.
I was truly on my own now, with no one to share these moments with. So
yeah, I think that maybe I deserve to be forgiven my Ebenezer Scrooge
moment . . . just this once. Don't you? Yeah.
I thought so. Thanks for understanding. It certainly feels good to be able
to get that off my chest. For
the rest of the week I did my job and went home to my little room every
night, ate, slept, and then did it all again. Work was frantic, with more
people in the store than I had ever seen in my life, yet the fact that I
would be spending Christmas alone was never far from my mind. Let's face
it though, what could I do, so I just ploughed on through it and tried my
best not to think about it. When
Christmas Eve finally arrived the morning was crazy at work, with everyone
trying to grab those last minute gifts, but as the day wore on things
finally started to quieten down, and by mid-afternoon it may have still
been busy, but at least we had time to catch our breath, start to tidy the
place up, and re-stock the shelves, in preparation for the sales that
would start straight after Boxing Day. When
we finally closed the doors at six o'clock we were all exhausted, but
looking forward to the two day break that the Christmas holidays offered.
Most of my fellow employees were going away to visit family, or spending a
couple of quiet days at home, and I was kind of jealous of that. When I
was asked what I would be doing I simply said that I would be spending it
quietly, adding that it would be good to have a couple of days to get over
the last week. I
neglected to tell anyone that I would be alone, that I would probably be
depressed and that I was really hoping that someone . . . anyone, might
invite me to share at least part of the day with them. Being
one of the Management Trainees I was expected to help out the Senior
Managers with shutting the store down, so once all the staff had wished
each other a Merry Christmas and the general staff had left there were
only four of us left in the place - the Assistant Manager, Mr. Chung, one
of the Area Managers, Brian Sammon, and two trainees, being me and Simon
McIntosh. We
did the rounds and locked the place down, put all the cash away in the
vault, switched off everything that needed to be switched off and then
finally, about half an hour after we had farewelled everyone else, let
ourselves out into the summer evening. Being
the middle of summer it was still light outside and after we finally
locked the door and said our farewells we went our separate ways. 'You
want a lift?' Simon asked me as we walked down through the car park. 'No,
I'm okay, thanks. The walk home will do me the world of good . . . help
clear my head a bit.' 'Yeah,
I know what you mean. I have a Guns 'N Roses cassette that will do that
for me, I hope,' he laughed. 'Yeah,
I guess that could work too,' I replied. We
came to his car and stopped. It was an old Ford Escort, a piece of crap,
but he obviously loved it, judging by the condition it was in. At least he
had a car, I thought. 'Well
mate, I hope you have a good Christmas,' he said to me as he held out his
hand. 'Thanks,'
I replied. 'You too.' We
shook and then he pulled his keys from his pocket and unlocked the door. 'See
you in a couple of days then,' he said. 'Yeah,
mate. Have a good one.' As
he climbed in I set off down the road, heading towards where I lived,
which was about six blocks away. A few moments later Simon zoomed past,
blowing his horn and giving me a wave as he went. I waved back, and then
he was gone. That
was when it hit me. For the next two days I really was alone. When
I finally made it back to my room I locked myself inside and lay down on
my bed. The empty feeling I had inside me, as I mulled over in my mind the
predicament I now found myself in, was really gnawing away at me and it
wasn't long before I could feeling it starting to overwhelm me. As I lay there in the falling darkness I just couldn't help it . . . I started to cry. * * * The
lady who owned the boarding house, Mrs. O'Halloran, had told her few
residents that she would supply breakfast for everyone on Christmas
morning, but then would be heading off to visit family for the rest of the
day, so for lunch and dinner that night we would have to fend for
ourselves. When
morning came I awoke early, to sunlight streaming in through my window. I
had fallen asleep still in my work clothes and as I sat up and noticed the
couple of presents I had bought sitting on my dresser, being for each of
my parents (oops, I didn't post them) and one for Mrs. O'Halloran, I
quickly realised it was Christmas Day. My
first Christmas away from my family. Fuck. What a day this was about to
be! I
got to my feet and stripped off all my clothes, before then catching my
reflection in the large mirror attached to the back of my bedroom door. I
paused and looked at myself. It wasn't what I thought was a pretty sight.
I had lost weight since I had arrived here and while I had never been a
solid looking guy, right now I was decidedly skinny. I also needed a
haircut, which it seems was one of the many things that I didn't manage to
find time for in the lead up to Christmas. Pulling
a pair of shorts and a t-shirt from my dresser drawer I pulled them on,
picked up my towel and toiletries bag, and then headed for the communal
bathroom, hoping like hell that no one else had beaten me to it. The
house was quiet and there didn't appear to be anyone else up as yet, and
when I reached the bathroom I found it vacant, so I went in and locked the
door, before starting the water and then quickly stripping off. When
I stepped in the feeling of hot water rushing over me was wondrous and for
a long time I just stood there, letting the water wash away the worries
and the tensions of the past few weeks. Eventually I decided that I needed
to wash myself and so I soaped up, building up a healthy lather all over
my body, including around my rapidly expanding cock. I loved the feeling
of soap on my body, and especially on my privates, and it wasn't long
before I had built up a steady rhythm, stroking myself with one hand,
while with my other hand I reached around behind me and started probing at
my hole. That
seemed to do the trick, and before I knew it I could feel the tension
starting to build deep down inside me. With a few more strokes that
tension soon built up to the max, as my body arched and bucked, then with
a bang I exploded, splattering the shower wall with rope after rope of my
seed. When
I was done, having milked the last drops from the end of my cock, I
collapsed back against the wall, gasping for breath, yet fully satisfied,
before eventually recovering and using my hand to scrub and wash all
evidence of my sins away. After
rinsing myself clean I turned off the water and stepped from the shower,
then collected my towel and started drying myself. I
was starting to feel better, but I had no doubt that as the day wore on
and the loneliness once again took over, I would probably be feeling down
again by the time the sun was setting. When
finally dried and dressed I picked up my things and opened the door, the
headed back down the hall toward my room. As I passed the kitchen I
noticed my land-lady in there starting to prepare breakfast, so I stuck my
head in the door and said, 'Good morning, Mrs. O. and a Merry Christmas to
you.' She
turned around and smiled at me. 'Good morning to you too Nate. And a Merry
Christmas as well. You're up bright and early this morning.' 'Well,
I crashed early last night . . . so you know what they say, early to bed,
early to rise, or something like that.' 'At
least you have a couple of days off before you have to go back though.
That might give you a chance to recharge your batteries.' 'I'm
hoping so,' I replied. 'I'll be back in a minute and will give you a hand
if you like.' 'That
would be nice, dear. Thank you.' I
retreated the rest of the way down the hall and dropped my belongings on
my bed, then picked up the small gift I had bought for her and returned to
the kitchen. Mrs.
O. was slicing off some ham when I walked into the room but quickly
stopped when she saw me there holding out the present for her. 'Oh
dear, you didn't have to do that,' she said to me, as she accepted the
package. 'Of
course I did,' I replied, then stepped forward and gave her a kiss on the
cheek. Not
being very experienced at buying presents I wasn't sure what I should get
her, so I settled on one of those small gift packs with scented hand
creams and stuff, which one of the girls at the shop wrapped for me. 'Well,
it just so happens that I've gotten all my boarders a little something as
well, but I think we'll open them all once we sit down for breakfast. Now,
would you like to cut some more of this ham for me please, while I start
some eggs and toast, and then hopefully we'll have everything ready by the
time everyone is up.' 'Sure,'
I replied with confidence, although I wasn't quite sure just exactly how
much confidence I should place in my kitchen skills. At
least this morning after a good nights sleep and a tension relieving
shower, I was feeling much better than I had the previous evening, so
maybe the day wouldn't turn out quite so bad after all. I
helped Mrs. O. set the table, to which she added all the Christmas
trimmings, right down to the bon-bons, so by the time we heard the sound
of the other few residents stirring elsewhere in the house I was actually
looking forward to breakfast. One
by one the others came in after washing or showering, to be greeted with a
Merry Christmas from both Mrs.
O. and me. First there was David, who was from Melbourne but worked in Sydney in some office in the city. He was in his fourties I think and would be flying back to Melbourne this morning to spend Christmas with his family The
next one in was Jackie. I wasn't quite sure what exactly she did, as we
didn't often cross paths, but she too would be heading out to see family
today. Then
there has Jason, who said that one of his workmates would be picking him
up this morning so he would be spending Christmas day with him and his
family. 'Oh
dear,' Mrs. O'Halloran said to me, once they had told us their plans. 'I
feel so guilty now . . . you're going to be here all alone.' 'It's
okay,' I answered. 'It'll mean I can catch up on some sleep.' 'But
. . . but it's Christmas!' Jackie exclaimed. 'It's
just another day,' I replied, even if deep down inside I could already
feel the knots starting to tighten. 'Well,
let's not mope around. It is Christmas after all, so before we have
breakfast there's a small matter to attend to,' Mrs. O. said. Crossing the
room she opened one of the cupboards and produced a box, which she carried
across to the kitchen table and sat it there, before opening it. I
suspected these were her presents that she had mentioned earlier. 'Now,
I have a little custom,' she began. 'Every year at Christmas time I like
to make sure that those of my boarders who are still here for Christmas
don't miss out, so I would just like to wish you all a very Merry
Christmas, before we go our separate ways today.' She
then dipped into the box and started bringing out presents, handing each
of us a brightly coloured package, with me also receiving a little pat on
my arm and a conspiratorial wink as she did so. We all thanked her for the
gifts then each of the other three placed their gifts on the table and
excused themselves for a moment, returning to their rooms, only to come
back moments later bearing gifts of their own for Mrs. O. While
they were gone Mrs. O. retrieved my gift to her from where she had sat it,
and she and I were both sitting at the table when the others returned. 'Thank
you. That's very sweet of you,' she said in turn to the others as she
accepted their gifts. We then sat down and opened them all. David
and I both received very fancy looking ties, seeing as we were both in the
business world as she put it,
while Jackie received a scarf, and Jason received a silver key ring, which
was for the car he still had at home and was doing up. Mrs.
O. received chocolates and several gift packs, and seemed quite happy with
her haul. 'Thank
you everyone for helping make an old lady very happy on this important
day, and now that that's over, I think it's time for breakfast. Nate, if
you would do the honours, seeing as you helped put it all together this
morning . . .' I got up from the table and walked to the wall oven, where everything was being kept warm, which I opened. Grabbing a tea-towel I picked up the plate of eggs and carried it across to the table, followed by the toast and then the ham from the refrigerator While
I was doing that I noticed Jason get up from the table and grab the coffee
pot, which had been gurgling happily away, then poured coffee for
everyone. There
was no doubt about her, old Mrs. O. had us all well trained. After
waiting for her to help herself to the offerings the rest of us then
helped ourselves, and for the next half hour we ate and chatted in
pleasant company, before eventually people started saying they needed to
get moving. As
they said their farewells and one by one left us, I volunteered to do the
clean-up, starting on that right after breakfast, while Mrs. O. went and
got herself ready for her visit to her sisters; after all, I figured, I
had nothing else planned for the day. Mrs.
O. came out a few minutes later all dressed up for Christmas dinner,
carrying a rather large bag with presents in it. 'Would
you be a dear and take these out to the car for me?' she asked. 'I'll just
grab the deserts from the fridge that I have to take with me.' 'Sure
thing,' I answered, while taking the bag from her, which I soon found out
weighed a ton. I
headed out toward where her car was parked behind the house. It was a 1974
Holden HQ Kingswood sedan, just like the one my grand-parents once owned,
and was the classic only ever driven
on Sundays kind of car. Opening
the back door I placed the bag on the seat and turned around to find Mrs.
O. coming down the path carrying a dish of her famous trifle, made from
sponge cake, custard and jelly, with just a dash of Sherry, while a
pavlova balanced on top (a home made one, definitely not a bought one in a
box). 'Here,
let me,' I said to her as I reached out and took them from her, then
placed them carefully on the seat. 'Thank
you dear,' she said. 'Now are you sure you're going to be all right on
your own? It's not right a young person spending Christmas alone.' 'I'll
be fine. Thank you. I'll give mum and dad a call around lunch time when
they're at my aunt's place, then after that I'll simply relax.' 'Well,
you enjoy yourself. There's plenty of food in the fridge, including
another trifle, so you just help yourself.' 'Thank
you very much. I will do that!' With
a nod she climbed into her car and started it up, then a few moments later
she drove down the driveway and was gone. When
I went back inside I switched on the radio while I started the dishes. It
was a talk-back show, with people ringing in from all over the country to
send Christmas greetings to their friends and relatives, and I found their
stories, recollections and tall-tales all quite interesting and enjoyable. When
the announcer came back on after playing a song he said that he had a
special guest on the line, who proved to be someone from the Salvation
Army. As I listened I found out that there were many people who would be
spending Christmas alone, which immediately caught my attention and caused
me to stop what I was doing for a moment and concentrate on what was being
said. 'It
doesn't matter whether you are rich or poor, or old or young, but there
are many reasons why people spend Christmas alone,' the man was saying.
'For some it is because of family breakdowns. For others it may be because
they have no families left, or they might simply be new to an area where
they don't know anyone yet, such as people who transfer because of their
job.' Oh
wow! That's me! 'So,
how about these people then?' the announcer said. 'Is there somewhere
where they can go for Christmas so that they aren't spending it alone?' 'Absolutely,'
the Salvation Army guy said. 'Every Christmas the Salvo's open up a number
of centres across the city on Christmas Day and invite those who are less
fortunate, or have no one to celebrate Christmas with, into our hearts to
supply them with a proper Christmas dinner and some companionship, and all
free of charge.' 'That's
wonderful,' the announcer said. 'And where exactly are these centres?' 'Well,
there is the citadel in the centre of the city, in George Street, but
there are also centres that will be opening today in Blacktown and
Campbelltown and Chatswood . . .' At
the mention of Chatswood my ears really pricked up. I knew where that
centre was, as I had passed it quite a few times on my walks around the
area after work. Maybe my Christmas wouldn't quite be so lonely after all? * * * After
finishing the cleaning up I checked the time and found it was still only a
little after ten, so I thought I would try my aunt's place to see if my
parents had arrived yet. Using
the phone we all shared in the hallway, I sat down on the stool that was
there for that purpose and dialled the number. It was answered on the
third ring by one of my cousins, Thomas. 'Hello,
Thomas, Merry Christmas!' I cheerily said to him. He
was a few years younger than me, I guessed he would be about fifteen or
sixteen. 'Errr,
Merry Christmas,' he replied somewhat tentatively. 'Ummm . . . who is
this?' 'It's
Nate, doofus. You know, your cousin!' 'Oh,
hey! How are you?' 'Not
bad thanks. How about you? Was Santa good to you this year?' 'Yeah,
all right I guess.' 'Have
mum and dad arrived there yet?' 'Yep,
about ten minutes ago. Hang on and I'll get them for ya.' 'Thanks.' I
waited for a few moments and then heard him call out to my folks, then
shortly afterwards I heard the phone get picked up and my mother say,
'Hello dear. Merry Christmas!' 'And
a Merry Christmas to you too mum. Did you have a good trip to Aunt Rose's
place?' 'Oh
yes dear . . . you know your father, slow and steady wins the race. My,
there were some ratbags on the road though.' 'I
can just imagine.' 'So,
how are you? We have your presents at home . . . I just didn't get them
posted, I'm sorry.' 'That's
okay,' I replied. 'I haven't had a chance to post yours yet either, I'm
sorry.' 'Has
your work been busy?' 'Very.
I'm so glad I have a couple of days off now.' 'And
what are you doing today? Are you going any where?' 'I'm
not sure yet. I'll probably just stay here. Everyone else has gone for the
day.' 'That's
nice dear,' she said, most probably without even realising what it was she
was saying. She could be something of an airhead at times, my mother. 'Yeah,
well, you better put dad on please so I can wish him a Merry Christmas,
then I had better get off the phone, otherwise the land-lady might get
upset about the big phone bill.' 'I'll
just get him for you. Hang on a minute.' I
didn't bother to tell her that I sure as hell didn't have any place else
to go. I
waited for a few moments more and then I heard the receiver get picked up
again. 'Hello,'
said the gruff voice of my father. 'Hello
Dad. Merry Christmas,' I said to him. 'Errr
. . . yeah, and a Merry Christmas to you too Nate. How's things in the Big
Smoke?' 'Busy,'
I replied, then adding, 'Your presents are on the way. Did you have a good
trip down to Aunt Rose's?' 'Oh,
you know, your mother never stops complaining about by driving, so it was
fun. 'I
can imagine.' 'Anyhow,
this call must be costing someone a fortune, so we better not talk for too
long.' 'No,
I don't want to get in trouble with the land-lady.' 'Okay
then. Well, you have a good day, and we'll talk to you soon,' he said,
then before I could say anything else I heard the sound of the receiver
going CLUNK back down onto the phone. 'Okay
then, I'll try,' I said into thin air, then dropped the receiver back down
onto the phone at me end as well. For a long time I just sat there, not really knowing what to do. I couldn't believe that my own folks would just fob me off like that, without hardly even enquiring about what I was going to be doing, or if I was well, or sick, or . . . or . . . any fucking thing. Years
later, when I would be thinking back on just what happened between me and
my parents, I put this day down as being a turning point in our whole
relationship. I mean, before that Christmas day we had never really had
that great a relationship to start with, but after that Christmas it all
seemed to go downhill from there . . . not in a physical sense, like we
had a fight or anything, it was more like we just drifted apart, and the
more time that passed, well, the further apart we seemed to get. It would
end up taking something of a big-bang to get us back together, but that
didn't come until later. When
I eventually snapped out of my little daze and dragged myself to my feet I
made a decision. I was going to go to lunch with the Salvo's, I mean, even
if I didn't know anyone it had to be better than sitting around here doing
nothing at all. I
went down the hall to my room and fished out some decent clothes, thinking
that the shorts and t-shirt I had on just wasn't going to cut it, then
after stripping off I sprayed on some deodorant and then dressed, in dark
blue trousers and a white polo shirt with a dark blue collar. Looking
myself up and down in the mirror I didn't think I looked half bad, all
things considered, though I realised that the chances of me meeting some
cute guy there were about a million to one. Rummaging
through my drawers I found a clean pair of socks and pulled those on, then
wiped the dust off my work shoes and laced those on as well. One
more glance in the mirror told me I still looked okay; not flash enough
for a formal dinner, but still presentable enough for a social event like
this, I thought. After
leaving a note on the table for Mrs. O., just to let her know what I was
doing, in case she came home before I did, I made sure that the house was
secure, then set off for the Salvation Army hall at a little before eleven
o'clock. I figured that should give me plenty of time to get there, as it
was only about four or five blocks away. It
was a beautiful summer day, with not a cloud in the sky. Birds were
singing. Traffic was light. And as I strolled along in the morning
sunshine I was feeling in a much better mood than I had been a short time
ago. I came to the city to live my own life, I decided, so I wasn't going
to fret over the way my parents acted toward me, I was going to go out and
enjoy life, one way or another. As I
drew nearer to my destination I started to grow a little nervous, as I
didn't quite know what to expect. When I reached the end of the block
where the hall was I could see people gathering up ahead, with some
milling around on the footpath and others heading inside already. I
stopped and took a good look at what was going on, then I started forward
again. When
I reached the front of the hall a few minutes later I was greeted at the
gate by a woman dressed in Salvation Army uniform. 'Hello
there, and Merry Christmas,' she said to me. 'Merry
Christmas to you too,' I replied. 'Are
you on your own?' 'Yes.
I've only just moved here from the country for work, and I couldn't get
home to visit the family. I only heard about this on the radio a little
while ago, so seeing as it was close to where I was staying, I thought,
what the hell . . .' then quickly covering my mouth when I realised what I
had said. The
lady just smiled and patted me on the shoulder. 'That's
perfectly okay dear. I guess you must be really feeling it today then?' 'Yeah,
something like that,' I answered, with a wan smile. 'Why
don't you go inside and get yourself a drink and mingle with some of the
others who are here already. You might find you have quite a lot in common
with some of them.' 'Thank
you,' I replied. Leaving
her there to welcome the next person I walked up the path to the hall and
went inside. It was quite a large hall and I saw that at the far end, in
front of what looked to be a kitchen where there was quite a bit of
activity going on, there were five rows tables, all set up ready for the
diners. Off
to one side, along a wall, there other tables set up with drinks (only
tea, coffee and juices by the look of it) and nibblies, around which there
were already a few people standing and talking amongst themselves, with
drinks in hand. I
wandered over to the drinks table and poured myself an orange juice, then
just as I picked up the cup I felt a nudge to my elbow. Spinning around I
saw a familiar looking guy of about my own age smiling at me. 'Hi,
Nate. The people you bump into in these places, eh?' he said as he
stretched out his hand toward me. 'Merry Christmas to you.' 'Hey
Garry. Yeah, and a Merry Christmas to you also. But what are you doing
here? Don't tell me you're all alone too?' 'Yeah,
that's it. No real place to call home here, seeing as I'm from Brisbane
and all my family are back there, so when I heard about this on the radio
this morning I figured, what the hell!' 'Ha.
That's exactly what I said to the lady on the front gate as I came in.' He
was the most recent of the new Trainees at the store, although I did
remember him saying that he was just filling in for the few weeks over
Christmas, and would most likely be moved on shortly. He
was about the same age, height and build as me, with brown eyes and hair,
which was cut short. Over the past few weeks I had often found myself
staring at him and wondering what he really looked like under those
clothes, not that I figured I would ever get the chance to see that. He
poured himself a drink also, then we picked them up and wandered over to
an empty table, where we sat on opposite sides in the two end seats and
started chatting. It
was almost like we were two old friends who had grown up together, so
similar were our experiences. The only difference between us was that he
had grown up in Brisbane, albeit in one of the smaller outlying suburbs,
while I was truly from the bush. I
liked the guy and found myself hoping that I would get to know him better
while he was still stationed here. By
the time twelve-thirty had almost come around, which was the designated
time for the Christmas Dinner to start, the hall was almost filled, and
had the background noise to match. The seats next to us had been filled by
an elderly couple whose family had all moved away. Normally at least one
of their kids would come home for Christmas, or they would go visit one of
them, but this year things just didn't work out for them. We
heard other stories from some of the people who were also at our table, or
the other tables close by, some of which were quite heartbreaking, such as
the family where both the parents had lost their jobs just before
Christmas when the company they had spent close to twenty years working
for went bankrupt. If
Garry and I had been feeling down about being alone today, or only for
part of the day, hearing tales like that soon changed our state of mind.
We were the lucky ones, especially when compared to what some folks were
having to go through at this time of year. At
exactly twelve-thirty we heard the sound of a dinner bell of some sort
being rung and the room suddenly fell silent. All eyes turned toward the
back of the hall, near to the kitchen, where we could see a small group of
the Salvation Army officers gathered. 'Merry
Christmas everyone, and it's so wonderful to see so many smiling faces
here today. My name is Ted Banks and I would like to welcome you to our
annual Christmas Friendship Dinner . . .' This
was the guy I had heard on the radio this morning, I was sure. 'We
understand that everyone here has a different story today, and some of you
are no doubt sharing your stories. We would just like to say that today it
doesn't matter what your story is, we are all gathered here as one to
share in each others company and this wonderful bounty that has been
supplied to us by so many generous donors and prepared with loving hands
by so many wonderful people who have given up their own Christmas dinners,
so that you all can enjoy the friendship and the joy of Christmas. 'When
the dinner bell is rung again, we would like the first table to make their
way to the serving tables near the kitchen, then once everyone has been
served then the second table may get up, and so on. There's more than
enough food to go around, so don't rush, and we all hope that you have a
wonderful day and get to know some of the other people with whom you are
sharing this meal. 'Now,
before we do start, we would just like to say a few words. Father Francis
from the Uniting Church just down the road has graciously agreed to lead
us in saying Grace. Also, as we have always said, there is no cost or
charge for this meal, however to those of you who feel you would like to
contribute towards the work we do, a donation box will be made available.
Now, Father Francis, if you will be so kind.' At
this point another man stepped forward, although to me he didn't exactly
look like a priest, as he was dressed as casually as the rest of us seemed
to be. And where the bloody hell was his white collar? 'Thank
you Ted,' the priest said. 'And may I just say how wonderful it is to see
so many smiling faces here today to celebrate this holiest of holidays.
Jesus was born . . .' I
didn't really hear the rest of what he said, as I'm afraid that's about
where I started to zone out. Religion and me . . . well, lets just say I'm
not exactly the good little Catholic boy that I was supposed to be. I
knew that Father Francis was finished by the resounding 'Amen' that seemed
to echo around the hall, which snapped me back to attention. The
dinner bell rang again and then Ted Banks went to the first table, which
was the one next to ours, and motioned for them to make their way to the
serving tables. That meant we would be second up. I
guess it was the logical way to keep some semblance of order in the room,
but looking around the room I felt certain that there were a few people
here for who the wait would be difficult, such was the hunger that I
believed I could see in their eyes. The
sound of chairs being pushed out from the table seemed to echo around the
hall as the people from the first table rose and headed for the servers.
When they were almost through one of the Salvo's came over to our table
and suggested that we could start to go up to the serving tables as well,
so we rose up and followed the crowd. The
meal proved to consist of cold meats and salads, with ham, chicken and
turkey being in plentiful supply, along with just about every type of
salad imaginable. The ladies piled our plates up well as we passed them
and both Garry and I soon found ourselves struggling to get through it
all. We
chatted to each other and to the others at our table who were within
earshot, and had a quite enjoyable time. There was plenty of noise and
laughter in the room, and it appeared that everyone else was enjoying
themselves as well. After
we had finished the main meal the tables were cleared and then the deserts
were rolled out. You should have seen Garry's eyes . . . they almost
popped out of his head when he saw them all. I just laughed at him. We
both managed to fit in some pavlova and trifle, then afterwards we all
continued to sit and talk. I was really moved by the young family who had
both lost their jobs. They had three young kids and no other family living
in this city. Man, that must have been tough for them. Gradually
as the afternoon wore on people started to drift off and the crowd
thinned. I excused myself for a moment and walked over to see the
Salvation Army lady that I had spoken to at the front gate. 'Excuse
me,' I said to her. 'Yes
dear,' she replied. 'I
just wanted to say thank you very much for the meal. This morning I was
really down in the dumps about today, but as it turned out, I think this
has been one of the Christmas days I've had. It has really been an eye
opener for me.' 'I'm
so glad dear. And we were glad to have you here.' 'Errr
. . . they made mention earlier of a donation box,' I said. 'Yes,
it's right by the door. There are envelopes on the table beside it if you
would like to leave details for a receipt to be sent to you.' 'Oh,
I don't think I need that, but I would like to make a donation. You do a
great job here.' 'Thank
you. It's so nice to see someone so young who appreciates what we do.
We're here all the time, so if you ever want someone to talk to or need
anything, you know where to find us. I know how hard it can be for some of
you young people when you first come to the city.' I
nodded my thanks and then headed back toward the table where Garry was
still sitting, chatting with one of the others. When
he saw me coming he excused himself and got to his feet, meeting me half
way. 'Are
you about ready to head out then?' he asked. 'Yeah,
I think so.' 'Feel
like a beer?' 'A
beer? This afternoon? There's no place open.' 'I
have some back in my room if you feel like one.' For
a moment I thought about saying no, and heading home, but something told
me not to. 'Yeah, sure, that'd be great,' I said, so together we left the hall, each dropping some cash in the donation box on the way out and headed down the road toward his diggings, which proved to be the local Hotel. * * * We
climbed the stairs at the back of the hotel and walked along the verandah
on the second floor, until we reached a white wooden door, with brass
numbers screwed to it. It was room number seventeen. 'Welcome
to my humble home,' Garry said to me as he unlocked the door and pushed it
open. 'Well, at least until the company sends me to some other hell-hole.' 'It's
not quite that bad, is it?' I asked. 'Oh
no, I actually quite like it here. But they tell me that some of the
stores are real dives, and if you get sent out to the country there's fuck
all to do.' 'Yeah,
I know what you mean. Are you forgetting that I'm from the bush myself.' 'Oh
shit, now I've insulted you twice in two sentences,' he joked. 'Want
to go for third time lucky?' I laughed. 'I
think I'll just zip it for a while,' he answered. I
followed him into the room, which was pretty much as I expected it to be.
The hotel was old, so there was nothing fancy about the room. The walls
were painted off-white, while the ceiling was the old style pressed metal
type. In the middle of he room there was a large double bed -- one of
those old style wrought iron jobs -- with a lounge seat against one wall,
and between those two pieces of furniture that took up most of the space
in the room. On
the opposite wall to where the lounge seat was there stood a bench, on top
of which there was a television set, and below which was a cupboard and a
small bar fridge. I
noticed that there didn't appear to be anywhere to hang clothes, and I saw
that Garry had some hanging on the back of his door as he closed it. I
also noticed Garry had his suitcase sitting on his bed and when he saw me
look at it he moved quickly to pick it up and put it out of the way. My
first thought was that he might be worried I might see something in it,
but I quickly dismissed that. 'You
don't have to. . .' I started to say, but he was already moving. I saw
that the lid wasn't fastened or zipped up and as he grabbed it and spun
around, as if he were looking for somewhere to move it to, something slid
out of it, landing at my feet. It
was a magazine, and I could tell at a glance what kind it was, even
without picking it up. 'Oh
. . . fuck,' he said. 'Fuck, no.' I
bent over and picked it up and drank in the picture on the glossy front
cover. The name of the magazine was HONCHO,
and the cover showed a picture of one of the most perfect naked men I have
ever seen (not that I had in fact seen that many!). 'Oh,
wow,' I said, as I flicked through a few of the pages. I
glanced at Garry a couple of times and his face had just gone as white as
a sheet. He sat the suitcase back down on the bed, then collapsed himself
down on the two-seater lounge, burying his head in his hands. 'Oh
god, ummm . . .' he started stammering. 'I . . . I . . .' 'Garry.
It's okay. Please stop panicking,' I said to him, trying to reassure him
that it really wasn't the end of the world. 'W-what?'
he asked, almost incredulously as he looked up at me. 'I
said, relax. Chill out, or whatever. It's okay. I've actually got a few of
these myself,' I said, while giving him a wink and waving it in front of
him. 'I haven't got this issue though. Man, this stud is hot!' 'Are
you being serious? You're not just yanking my chain, are you?' I
quickly sat down beside him and placed a hand on his knee. 'I'll yank it
if you want me to,' I said, which only served to crack him up. 'Oh,
man, I thought my life was over there for a minute. I had visions of you
running out of here and then telling everyone in the shop what sort of a
freak I was.' 'Mate,
you're not a freak, trust me. I haven't had much experience with this
stuff myself, but I sure as hell won't be running my mouth off about you
to anyone . . . just like I know you won't go blabbing about me. Is it a
deal?' 'Absolutely,'
he answered. 'You
know, while we were having lunch today I had this thought. I wondered what
if you were actually like me, and then when you asked if I wanted to come
back here for a drink my head started racing again. I just thought it was
my imagination running away with me, as it always seems to do . . . I had
no idea that you might actually be . . .' 'Gay?'
he asked. 'Yeah.
Shit, I still have trouble even saying the fucking word.' 'I
know. For a long while I just couldn't get my head around it myself. I
knew I wasn't the only one out there, but I had no idea where to start
looking for someone else like me.' 'Yeah.
Me too.' 'So
. . .' 'Here
we are . . .' 'Do
you want a drink?' he asked. 'Maybe
later?' I replied, more of a question than an answer. My hand was still
resting on his leg, so slowly I slid it up toward his lap. I could feel
his leg shaking beneath my touch, or that could have been my hand shaking,
I wasn't too sure. 'O-okay,'
he whispered. 'I
haven't had much practice at this,' I whispered back to him. 'That
makes two of us.' When
my hand reached his groin I could feel his hardness beneath the taught
fabric, so I started rubbing it. He moved his hand to my groin and did the
same, and it felt wonderful. Twisting
my body slightly, so I faced him a little better, I used my other hand to
cup his face, then leaning in to each other we let our lips brush
together, at first just tenderly and for the briefest of times, then
adding more feeling with each additional touch. 'Can
we stand up?' Garry whispered between kisses. I
did as he asked and he stood directly in front of me, placing his hands on
my hips and bringing out bodies together, allowing our hard-on's to rub
against each other, while we resumed our kissing, now letting our mouths
open and our tongues invade and battle with each others. As
our actions became more heated I felt him start to tug at my shirt,
pulling it from my pants, so I did the same. Pretty soon we both had our
shirts off and were now fumbling with each others pants. It wasn't doing
us any good though, so I stepped back and kicked off my shoes, then undid
my pants and dropped them to the floor, quickly stepping out of them,
while he also did the same. We
looked each other up and down, each of us drinking in the sight of the
other. By the look on his face I could tell that he liked what he saw, he
looked hungry, like he wanted to devour me whole. I knew instantly that I
liked what I saw of him, his body was faultless, with a nice tan and a
beautiful cock standing upright, almost back against his stomach and
reaching to his belly-button. 'Oh,
wow, you're beautiful,' I whispered. 'You
ain't so bad yourself, country boy,' he replied, as he reached down and
wrapped his hand around my shaft, which sent a shiver through my entire
body. I
reached out and touched him also, feeling his firm, uncut cock, which felt
so different to mine. It was like a hard rod, yet it was also as if it
were encased with velvet . . . so soft to the touch, yet as solid as
steel. 'Oh
god, I so want to taste you,' Garry whispered to me between kisses. 'Sixty-nine?'
I suggested. 'On the bed?' As
one we shuffled toward the bed, neither one of us breaking contact with
the other, until I found myself with my legs backed against it. Garry
pushed gently against me and I sat back onto the bed, then bringing him
with me I lay back on it, with his body on top of mine, grinding and
humping against me. Pushing
against him I rolled him over, so I was now on top of him, then I quickly
scurried around on the bed, so that my head was level with his hard cock,
and his was level with mine. Neither
of us wasted any time in setting to work, and soon I felt the most
wondrous feeling of my young life, when his warm, moist mouth completely
enveloped my manhood. I
tried to return the favour to him, but he was larger than me and I found
myself gagging slightly when I got about three-quarters of the way down.
That didn't stop me from trying though, and pretty soon I found the top of
my throat starting to open up a little, allowing me to take in more of his
wonderful cock. 'Oh,
god, that feels amazing! You taste amazing!' he said. 'So
do you,' I replied, between slurps. Pretty
soon we both started to get into a rhythm, sucking on each other, swirling
our tounges around the head of each others cocks, then taking all that we
could into our mouths. I was in seventh-heaven. I had never experienced
anything so wonderful, so intense, so mind-blowing. 'I
can't hold out much longer,' he soon said. 'Me
neither.' 'In
our mouths? Or out?' 'In
is fine with me. I want to swallow every drop of you,' I said. 'Then
in it is, and here it comes . . .' I
suddenly felt his body tense and the head of his cock expand in my mouth,
then immediately following that his cock jerked once, then twice, then it
erupted, flooding my mouth with shot after shot of his tart, yet still
quite pleasant cum. I swallowed down all that I could and as fast as I
could, not wanting to let any escape me, but I could feel some dribbling
out around my lips and down my cheek. It
seems that his eruption was all that I needed as well, as I soon felt my
balls get sucked back into the base of my cock, before I too let go,
flooding his mouth with my sweet juice. I
felt bad that I couldn't warn him, as my own mouth was full at the time,
but he sucked and sucked like a professional, draining every last drop
from me and leaving my balls empty and aching. 'Fucking
hell!' I exclaimed as I collapsed back on the bed. 'That is the most
intense thing I have ever experienced.' Garry
scrurried around and lay next to me, propped up on one elbow and gazing
into my face. 'Are
you sure you haven't had much practice?' he gently teased me. 'You were
fucking amazing.' 'First
time for me,' I said to him, grinning. 'The only thing I'd ever done
before that was get a hand job in a toilet.' 'Me
too,' he replied. 'Do
you think it'll get better the more we practice?' 'Only
one way to find that out, isn't there?' 'Yeah, I guess there is. 'Merry
Christmas, Nate.' 'Merry
Christmas, Garry.' 'You
want to stay the night?' 'Abso-fucking-lutely!'
I replied, before I then dragged his face back onto mine. |
As always, your
comments are most welcome.
Please email me at
mp_ponyboy@hotmail.com
© Mark Peters 2002-2012. All rights
reserved