Date: Sat, 31 May 2003 02:36:02 +0000
From: Tony Ryan <hotstorylvr@hotmail.com>
Subject: With Friends Like These...

The story belongs to me, as do the characters. Please don't distribute
without my permission, don't put on any pay sites, etc. Don't read if you
are not over 18. Don't take this as an example of real life, remember how
important protection is in real life.

This is an introductory chapter and doesn't have any sex. That will begin in
the next chapter. If you want to see another chapter, then *please* e-mail
me with ideas, thoughts, how you feel about the story or characters, etc.
Your opinion matters.

--

Brian thought he had endured all the worst he would ever face in his 35
years. Being the product of a one-parent family had led to him working from
the age of 11 years old. Graduating a year early, by 17 he had moved out to
California with his last dime and paid for college and law school by selling
his blonde swimmer's body and baby blue eyes on the streets. When that got
too dangerous he put his creamy bubble butt and 10 hard inches to work in
gay, bi, and straight porn before he'd finally raised enough cash (and
cocks) to start his practice. At 35, he was aging gracefully, his thick,
wavy blonde hair showing no signs of thinning, his muscles hardened, his
skin lightly tanned, his eyes belying mischief behind the innocent facade.
He had nothing to worry about. Except...

"You're so alone, Bri. Why do you want to be alone? Don't you know what
SHARING your life can provide?"

Brian rolled his eyes. His "good" friends had come to once again brag about
their grand affair and guilt him into finding his own soulmate. Phone
messages, e-mails, offers to fix him up...they'd been harpies from hell the
past month. Mike and Steve were their names. Mike and Steve, Steve and Mike.
They were forever in a pack, lovers for 4 years but acting as if they'd been
sewn together in the playpen. Steve, the aspiring gay playwright, may have
been forgiven, since he hadn't even turned 30 and had only come out a few
years prior. But Mike was 43 years old and had been in one dismal failure of
a romance after another. Where the hell did he get off lecturing on birds
and flowers and all that shit?

"I can see what being alone has done to your life, Brian." Mike continued,
munching on a slize of pizza as his sorrowful hazel eyes mourned for Brian's
loneliness.

"Yeah, look at how destitute I am." Brian rolled his eyes and adjusted his
Indian-style footing on the couch. He had bought his expansive ranch home at
a fantastic deal a few years ago, and finally had the place furnished.

Steve reached across the empty middle cushion to clasp Brian's hand.

"Material possessions are great, but you don't have anyone to buy things
for, to rub your shoulders, to hold you at night."

Brian stared into Steve's hynpotic, dark eyes. He wistfully recalled the
wiry, twinkish Latino youth who'd show up as a friend of a friend at Mike's
pool parties and cookouts wearing only a well-packed Speedo, a nipple ring
and a grimace. Over the past few years the wiriness had become well-defined
muscles, the nipple ring was tossed in the trash as a sign of supposed
"maturity", and the grimace had become a sparkling, expensively repaired
smile. At least he still trotted out the Speedo...and still had those
haunting eyes.

Brian squeezed his friend's palm. "I also don't have anyone to nag me, to
play mind games, to take my money, to che..." the word caught in his throat
as he recalled a little over a year ago, finding the "Dear Brian" note from
Carl and their bank account drained. If not for the total humiliation and
self-hatred that kept him in bed for nearly a week, Brian would have tracked
his hot little lying ass down and fucked him and his twinky skank into the
ground, then taken back all their - all HIS - money and left them to rot.
Instead, Brian came away from the experience feeling he had deserved the
betrayal, that this was his punishment for ever opening his heart in the
first place. He'd moved on with his life, but inside, he would never be the
same person again.

Leaning over from the nearby easy chair, Mike grabbed Brian's free hand,
pressing the rough surface to his lips and kissing gently.

"Bri, what that pig did to you was unforgiveable. But you have to move on.
Look at us, at Steve and me, at how happy we are. You should want the same.
And to be honest, you're really screwing up our place settings."

Mike was a college professor, a stocky, 6'4 figure, a true embodiment of the
hairy-chested machismo stud. Proudly leaving his slightly greying hair
undyed, he stuck to sweaters and loose slacks these days, but had once
filled out leather pants and g-strings just as beautifully. Brian had met
him on-campus during a refresher course and had the urge to sit on his cock
from the moment they met. But Mike had been in a relationship, and every
time since, even though Brian had held him in his arms and cried his tears
after every breakup and every uncovered lie, Mike had never shown a sliver
of romantic interest in him. And now his main interest seemed to be in
fixing Brian up with any unattached troll who'd come down the path.

"I know you're trying to make me laugh, Mike, and I appreciate the efforts,
but I'm happy being single. I'm thrilled with my life...as thrilled as
anyone can be these days. Really, I am."

Steve cleared his throat and turned Brian's head toward his. The soft
fingers and puppy-dog gaze created a stirring which made Brian happy he'd
worn baggy jeans that day.

"That's the problem. We're not trying to make you laugh. You just don't fit
in at our parties now. Everyone else is coupling up. Everyone else is in a
relationship. And you just..."

"...drag everyone down." Mike sighed, finishing the sentence.

Brian felt a sharp crunch in his chest. He even looked down, swearing that
he had been hit. These were his best friends, the only close friends he had
allowed in his life.

"Are you fucking KIDDING ME?"

Steve and Mike shook their heads in unison, as if they had rehearsed this
for hours.

"We want you to feel more comfortable, and our other friends to feel more
comfortable. And you alone doesn't fit either of those goals. People talk."

Brian stood up, expecting to be unsteady on his feet, instead finding new
confidence in rage and anger. He expected rage, screaming, obscenity, but
instead he heard cold detachment.

"I've been there for both of you, I've given you support...I've even given
you money. I never asked you to repay me, but I guess you have your own idea
of gratitude. A knife in the back."

"Bri, that's not what..." Mike blinked excessively, tears welling in his
narrow slits of eyes.

"I KNOW what you meant. Just go."

Mike, knowing his friend's limits, headed for the door. Steve lingered a
moment longer, squeezing Brian's broad shoulder.

"Are you deaf or something??"

The gentle grip left his shoulder. Brian did not watch them walk away, did
not hear their car starting up. He was too busy fighting his own demons.
He'd heard about these types of queers, had even seen a few of them in his
lifetime, but he never imagined his best friends would fall into that
mate-or-die crap. They may have had good intentions, but they were selfish.
Selfish and stupid. He'd never been strong enough to tell them how much he
loved them both, how much he wanted to be with them. Now they had shit in
his face without a second thought. Brian had learned long ago how to make
the people who hurt him pay.

He ripped off his clothes, the anger and dark thoughts going straight to his
huge cock, as he had expected them to. And as he headed for the shower, his
third leg hanging heavy between his muscular thighs as he pulled at himself
with one hand and pushed away the moisture in his eyes with the other, he
wondered about how to make them pay. He would break their bodies, their
spirits, whatever he had to...as long as he made them pay.

--

E-mail me with any suggestions or comments at HotStoryLvr@hotmail.com