This is a longer chapter. I hope you enjoy it. If so, consider supporting the Nifty site. It needs support.

As a reminder, Chapter 9 took place in November 2019. This is a jump of two and a half years.

 

10

March 2022

Laramie Jenkins (33)
Grayson Jenkins (29)

Grayson

"Happy birthday! How are you, Lar'?"

"Good. Good. Exhausted."

"Partying already?" I joked with my brother.

"Ha. No. Not much partying lately. Definitely not since I bought the store."

"And just how is Jenkins Mantle doing?" I asked.

"Business is solid. It hasn't dropped off since I acquired the store and changed the name on January 1."

"But you don't have your old boss, so you are kind of short a guy, right?"

"Yeah. I have to find someone. I'm working way too many long hours."

"But you are making a lot more."

"Weeeellll. I suppose. Yes. I've been putting most of the profits right back into the business. Getting it all set up under my own name and some new equipment has been a chunk to start with, but ... sure, I'm doing okay."

"Let me guess. You use this as an excuse not to date. Are you seeing anybody?"

"Excuse nothin'. Gray, I'm working 12-hour days most of the time. I have no time for seeing what's out there."

"It's been more than two years since you broke it off with Micah. You need to put yourself out there."

"I've got money now, just no time and certainly no energy."

"Just be open to it," I said.

"I can't say I'm really good at relationships, Gray. I seem to botch it up somehow."

"Don't be ridiculous. Someone will come along. But at the same time, you have to put some effort into it."

"Is it some requirement that I must date?" Larry questioned.

"No. There's nothing wrong with being single. But as someone who has been in love for about 15 months, I can tell you it is pretty great."

"And how is Miranda?"

"Awesome." I suddenly started thinking about a trip to introduce her to my brother. "I'd love for you to meet her. Maybe we can come up soon."

"That's a LONG drive to ask of someone."

"We can make it fun. I'll consider it. Unless you want to come down here to Kansas."

"Not particularly," he said.

 

Laramie

I felt bad that my brother made more of an effort for us to get together. I sucked as a brother. I sucked as a boyfriend. I sucked as a son.

"I would hate to make you do that, but if you do, I will try to be super entertaining."

"Don't strain yourself, Laramie Jenkins. I'm not expecting miracles."

"Bite me. I can be fucking entertaining."

"Careful. I just may make you prove it."

"Then I would love for you to come. I do miss you. It's just a lot to ask of a girlfriend."

"She's kind of more than a girlfriend though. We're starting to get a little serious. Actually, it's more than a little."

"Wow! This is news."

"Yeah. We're moving in together."

"And you're just now telling me this?"

"I was getting around to it."

"What does Mom think? Her son shacking up with a woman he isn't married to ... and everything."

"I think if there is a potential grandchild, she might be able to accept it more."

"In contrast to the disappointment that is me."

"I didn't say that!" Gray insisted. "I didn't even think that."

"But it's true."

"Stop beating yourself up for being who you are. You're a great guy. Some other dude is going to realize that someday. Anyway, back to Mom. She knows ... well, surely she knows that Miranda and I are fucking, so ... is moving in any worse?"

"And how is the sex life?"

"Hey! Do you want to talk about your man-quests with me?!"

"I'll pass."

"Exactly. I have no desire to talk about my sex life with my brother," Gray said sternly. "But ... let's just say I'm good."

"I'm sure Miranda appreciates your gentlemanly discretion."

"Wow. I don't think I've been called a gentleman in ages."

"There's probably a reason for that."

"Fuck you, Larry."

I laughed.

"I'm glad you called, Gray. And, hey, I loved your card too. Hilarious."

"Glad it arrived." He hesitated a moment. "Did ... did our parents send you one?"

"Yes. It was as basic as could be and they signed it `Mom and Dad.' Drips with emotional syrup, huh?"

"Like mine are gooey and mushy. Our parents have never been that emotional."

"True." I had so few positive emotional memories with my parents. I was certainly much younger when they occurred. It was typically with all three boys together when we were in school. I tried hard to think of a one-on-one great memory with my parents. I guess whittling with my father was something I remembered fondly. With Mom, it almost always involved food. I'm not sure we had just a connection between her and me. Surely, we did. I just couldn't think of one.

"Lar'?"

"Oh. Sorry. Lost in thought. I'll let you go, Gray. Again, I appreciate the call."

"Happy birthday, big brother."

I remember when he used to call Phillip that. A couple years after Phillips death, I noticed I had inherited the role from time to time in Grayson's conversations. I kind of liked it.

I wondered if my parents would call.

I had picked up a birthday chicken alfredo on the way home from work. It was a caloric indulgence I could justify for the occasion. Actually, with all the work I was putting in, I had kept rather trim. I was always okay with my looks, for the most part anyway. That wasn't an issue with my self-esteem. I just handled romance and relationships so poorly. The dating gods and I were not on good terms. And I decided that was fine. I was too busy to dedicate time to anyone else right now.

I sat on the couch and turned on the television. I had popped open a Heineken and began scrolling through what was airing right now.

The phone rang. To my surprise, it was from home.

"Hello," I answered.

"Happy birthday, son," my father said.

"Thank you, Dad. How are you doing?"

"Fine. Fine. We're on the landline, so your mother is on too."

"Hi, Mom."

"Hello, Laramie. Did you do anything special for your birthday?"

"Not really. Work is just really demanding right now. I picked up a high-calorie dinner on the way home."

"Hm," she said.

"So, how's the store?" Dad asked.

"Kind of busy. There hasn't been a drop in customers since I took over. It's not like the name change has thrown anyone. Several of our customers knew me already."

"That's nice," Mom said, plainly.

"I need to bring on someone else. I could use another employee to help share the load."

"Can you afford to do that?" my father questioned.

"I don't think I can afford NOT to do that," I replied. "Otherwise, I'm going to work myself to death."

"Oh dear," Mom said.

"Well. It's good that you have the business," my father said.

"Right. So ... how's the farm?"

"Planting season will be here soon enough."

We were quiet for a startling ten seconds.

"Well, we just wanted to say Happy Birthday," my father inserted.

"Thanks."

"Well, take care, son."

I guessed we were done. Were we on the phone even 60 seconds? Was it partly my fault that the conversations didn't last longer?

"Bye," my mother said.

"Bye," I said and hung up.

My body gave a big sigh. I felt so sad that there wasn't any part of me that wanted to go to Kansas for a visit. It had been so long. Years. And it saddened me further that I was totally okay with that.

 

A week later

Laramie Jenkins (33)
Roman Berringer (38)

 

Roman

This Larry guy was supremely attractive. I thought it incredibly good customer service that he would come in and install the last cabinets after closing his store for the day. I know it was a lot of money for getting exactly what I wanted, but he had done a marvelous job making sure it met my expectations. Exceeded them actually.

Larry was at the end of his workday. Even though it wasn't hot out, I could still tell he had worked up a sweat. For him, it made him seem hotter to me. His shirt clung to his body in the most alluring way. It gripped him. His arms filled out the sleeve holes wonderfully. Too bad he wasn't gay. I would possibly pursue him. At the same time, he had no ring on. But what carpenter would work with a ring on?

After 20 minutes he had me inspect his work. It looked fantastic and I told him so. It was paid in advance, so there was no financial transaction to take place.

"I appreciate everything. Can I offer you something to drink at least?"

"Oh. Just a bottled water if you might happen to have one."

I went to get him one from the fridge.

When I came back, Laramie was looking down at a copy of OUT Field, the state's gay magazine. He looked up at one of the library's shelves. Yep, a few books right there would confirm that I was gay. I'm sure he probably knew that. Surely, he wasn't some secretive gay basher that would attack me — in my own home! I didn't get that impression.

"I love the articles on gay people in our state government," Larry said. "Some of them have such beautiful homes. When they spotlight their taste and style, I guess I sort of geek out on some of the nice houses. It's silly, but that's what I pick up on."

Holy shit. Larry was gay.

"Um. I haven't ever really thought about that ... I guess. But, yes, you are correct. Some of them have beautiful homes."

Holy shit. Larry was gay.

"They are. When I've noticed one within an hour's drive, I will sometimes get in the car and go see it."

"You ask to go in and see their house?!" I asked.

"No, no, no," he chuckled. "I just appreciate it from the outside. I have written a letter or two, but, no ... Jesus, I'd never go up to the door."

Holy shit. Larry was gay. I knew I should ask him out. He was so good looking. Would he possibly want to go out with me? He probably was beating off hot guys with a stick. Or ... just beating off hot guys. And sucking them and fucking them.

I blurted out an invitation before losing my nerve. "Larry, you've been exceptionally considerate here. Far beyond the expected customer service. I..."

"Oh, well, I'm just starting out on my own. I want to develop a good reputation with customers. We had a little dip after the beginning of the new year, right when I was starting the business. But now things are back to what it was before I took over."

He gave me an escape to chicken out.

"Can I buy you dinner?" I was proud of myself for not backing out.

 

Laramie

Oh. Wow. This Roman guy was asking me out.

"Well, wow. I'm grateful. Part of me wants to say I am way too exhausted to be good company, but ..." I paused. "Part of me knows I have nothing prepared or planned for dinner. Soooo... I assume I could clean up first?"

"Yes. Of course. Your work has been extraordinary. Would you be willing to go to Lawrence Creek as a thank you?"

Yikes. That was the fanciest place in town that I knew. I knew it was pricy enough that I had steered clear of it.

"Goodness, that's much too extravagant for a thank you dinner. I couldn't ask..."

"How about a date then instead of a thank you dinner?"

I caught my breath. "Oh."

"I'm sorry. That's very forward of me. I'm just a customer. You probably have rules about such things."

I was blank. Should I have established rules of such things? Do stores do that? What could possibly be wrong with dating a customer? Wow. Dating. I hadn't seriously dated since Micah. I was certainly overdue for such activity. I was so exhausted though; there was no way I would be up for sex tonight. I'm beat as it is. But hungry.

"I'm sorry. I've ... I've made a horrible first impression. Forgive me," Roman said, looking flustered.

"No. No. It's quite kind. Bad first impressions are usually my thing." I chuckled nervously. "I – I – I've never been there. What does one wear?"

"Well, there's no serious dress code or anything. It's March, so you wouldn't attempt shorts, but as long as you don't wear jeans and have a shirt with a collar on it, you'd be fine wearing whatever you want."

"This is really kind. Are you sure?"

"Only if you want to. It – it – it doesn't have to be a date. You're probably seeing someone."

"I'm too buried at work to see someone," I said nervously laughing again. "Perhaps I deserve a night out."

"There we are."

Thirty minutes later, every inch of my body, every crack and orifice were scrubbed with the nicest shower gels I had. I stared at the suds and pondered if I needed nicer shower gels. God, I hated dating. It was never worth it. I hated everything about it. Except sex. But that was too presumptuous for a first date. Even with the shower rinsing sweat and grime from me, I knew I still had no energy to put forth a night of lovemaking. That would be a horrible first impression if I made an attempt. He probably wasn't expecting that from a first dinner. Or was he? God, I hated dating.

I drove up to Lawrence Creek. I saw there was valet, but I hated paying for that. The walk was all of what, a hundred feet? If that. I saw Roman seated on a bench right outside the restaurant. He had changed into something nicer. Crap! He had a sport coat on. I didn't. I actually did own one. Just one suit. Did I look underdressed? I hated making a bad first impression. I saw him look at me. I liked my deep navy-blue shirt with the suede vest. I wore a cowboy hat, but now I wondered if that was silly for a place like this. I hated making a bad first impression.

"You look quite handsome," Roman said, standing upon my approach. That was a relief.

"Why thank you," I returned. "As do you."

He motioned his arm outward, directing me to the front door.

We didn't have to wait for a table, so we were seated right away. I took in the décor. I loved the woodwork immediately. The ceiling and light fixtures had an elegance from being decades old. I would have put it at the 1940s. The server handed us menus. I noticed Roman looking at me with a smirky smile.

"What?" I asked.

"Oh, I just enjoyed you appreciating all the details. It's sad that I don't appreciate the craftsmanship here — at least like you do. It takes someone like you to remind me to appreciate such things."

"Just taking it in," I said.

We opened our menus. Wow. It's not that I couldn't afford this place, but with everything a la carte and steaks in the $40s, I was content enough with my burgers. I knew I wasn't going to order the fanciest thing on the menu.

"Do you come here often?" I asked, wondering how often he would splurge on an a high-dollar dinner.

"I wouldn't say often. Maybe once a month."

"Ah." That was often as far as my budget would be concerned.

The server poured us glasses of ice water and asked if we would like something from the bar.

"Would you like some wine?" Roman asked.

I wasn't big on wine. I would have some on occasion at events, but I didn't crave it.

"I think I'll just have a beer, if that is okay? What do you have on draft?" I asked the server.

I made my selection and heard Roman select a glass of cabernet from the wine list. I resisted the urge to see how much a glass was. I tried my hardest to not make a bad first impression.

"So," I started. "You already know my day was exhausting. How was yours?"

"Fine. I work from home."

"I guess I don't know what you do."

"I'm on an arts council. I work at booking cultural events into Jackson Bend."

"Wow. That's sounds much more interesting than what I do."

"You'd think. It's really a lot of scheduling. Venues, availability, conflicts with other events. You'd think in the day and age of immediate communication we wouldn't rely on phone calls like we once did, but I'm on the phone all day."

"Do you still have a landline?"

"Actually, I do. For work purposes mainly."

We paused conversation to glance at the menu. I tried not to order anything too expensive since he was buying. I noticed a chicken dish that had several peppers. I opted for that.

"That's really spicy," Roman said, after I announced my selection.

"I should love it then," I replied, which caused him to chuckle.

"Braver than me," he said, as his gaze returned to the menu to make his own selection.

We told the server our selections, mine the Chicken Serrano, his the Sea Bass with orzo pasta.

I wasn't sure where to take conversation. He had asked me out. I should have been a little nervous, but I think I was too exhausted to be.

Our beverages arrived. He held his up to make a toast. "To a first date," he smiled.

"Indeed. A first date. Thank you." We clinked our glasses.

After taking a sip, he began conversation.

"So, Larry. I seem to recall you buying your business at the beginning of the year."

"I did. It was something my former boss and I had discussed for more than a year. I was kind of an exit plan for his retirement. I think he was glad to not have to go through the process of selling all the equipment and moving everything out. We set it up to where I can pay off the transition over the next two years."

"Nice."

"I suppose. I'm buried. I need to take on at least one more person. My old boss still comes in now and then just to talk. I think he slightly misses it."

"You should take him on just as an employee so that he can still dabble."

"Interesting idea."

I wasn't sure how long a carpentry conversation could hold interest, so I led the conversation back to him. Roman told me of some upcoming events he organized. They sounded ... nice, but I didn't picture myself doing any of them. I'm sure the city's wealthier citizens enjoyed them.

Our salads arrived, along with a basket of bread. I reached for the basket, as did he. In our clumsy gestures, I managed to bump his glass of water which splashed liquid on his sleeve.

"Oh, man. Roman, I'm so sorry. Really, I'm ..."

"Don't give it a second thought. It's just water." He moved his chair back. "Let me step away for a moment."

Fuck. I hated making a bad first impression.

I didn't want to eat without him, so I felt alone and awkward for a moment. I decided to take out my phone.

"You'd be impressed. I'm on a date." I sent the text to Grayson.

He quickly replied. "Great! So why are you texting me in the middle of it?"

"He's in the restroom for a minute."

"So how's it going?"

"Not sure. I'm probably going to ruin it."

"Oh, please. Don't give me any fucking excuses. Call me later in the week."

I put my phone away as I saw him heading back to the table.

"I am sooo sorry, Roman."

"Nonsense. I was probably going to wash my hands anyway. A minute under the air dryer and it's fine. Truly."

"Well. I told you I was bad at first impressions."

"Well. To me I see a kind man. A handsome man. A man who waited for me to return before starting. That's the first impression I have of you, Mr. Jenkins."

My mouth flickered into a smile, and I could feel my face flush a bit.

Conversation didn't flow easily, but two strangers showed effort to find common things to talk about.

Our dinners arrived. His sea bass was on a lemongrass foam — whatever that was — and three asparagus spears were arranged artistically. My chicken dish was artfully presented, with a spray of diced tomatoes beautifully topping three different types of peppers atop the grilled chicken. A sprinkle of cheese began to melt over the dish. It was complemented by hand sliced red potatoes with herbs.

Roman looked at the peppers atop my selection.

"You must have a cast iron stomach."

"I do test it from time to time."

I was enjoying dinner. The food lived up to the price. The flavors were extraordinary. He asked if he could brave a bite, which was fine. It was followed by half a glass of water and an entire roll.

"Too much for me," he said both choking and laughing. "I'm too much of a lightweight, I suppose."

Before I knew it, he had slid a piece of fish onto my plate. I thought that simple gesture of sharing was slightly peculiar and slightly wonderful.

"Spectacular," I said, after swallowing the bite.

"I sort of forced that on you. I didn't ask if you even liked seafood."

"I grew up on a farm. Ponds in our area had an abundance of catfish. But I never got to experience a lot of variety. Occasionally bluegill."

"Grew up on a farm, eh?"

"Yeah."

"Do you miss it?"

"Nope." I didn't want to have this conversation. "I'm enjoying Jackson Bend. I've been here several years now. I think it's a great city."

"As do I."

 

Roman

I was enjoying my evening. I hadn't dated anyone in several months. I could tell we came from different backgrounds, but Larry was nice. I liked him.

He was trying his hardest to be a good date, but I could tell from his face that he was just trying to stay awake from time to time. But I was enjoying his company.

"I know you are needing rest. I'm sure your workload is a grind. Can you stay long enough for dessert?"

"I hate to have you ... spend anything further. I'm good."

"Pssh."I waved for a menu. Once I had one, I glanced quickly. "Share a couple of bites at least?"

"Sure," Larry said. His body language conveyed he was less than enthralled, but his smile told me he didn't want to leave.

"We'll have the chocolate raspberry torte. Two forks please."

The manager happened to walk by.

"Mr. Berringer. How lovely to see you. How was dinner?"

"Excellent," I said. Larry nodded. "Mr. Baynum, this is my ... friend, Larry."

"Nice to meet you," Larry said, extending his hand.

After the two let go of each other's hands, Mr. Baynum offered both of us a cappuccino on the house. We thanked him for his kindness. I hoped Larry was impressed that the manager knew who I was. Hopefully I came off as a potential boyfriend. Larry was the best-looking person I had ever been out with. I wanted this to be a good first date. I thought I made a good first impression, but I wasn't for sure.

Larry's eyes looked heavy just for a split second when our beverages arrived.

"You're very tired."

"Exhausted."

"Can I thank you again for making time for me tonight, for us ... to do this?"

"It's been wonderful. I'm sorry that I'm just so damn tired."

He took a sip of his cappuccino. "Mmm. You know, I don't have these as much as I do just regular coffee. Perhaps I should make it a go-to drink."

I smiled at that for some reason.

The dessert wasn't enormous, but enough to share, to be sure.

We both reached for a fork. In sync, we each sliced off a corner and brought it to our mouths. It was like watching a reflection in a mirror. Our mouths smiled at the realization of the synchronized moment that our gaze lingered. It was a long moment, and our eyes couldn't look away. It was a good sign. I hoped it meant a second date. I'd invite him to my bed right now, but that seemed wildly inappropriate seeing that I simply asked him out three hours ago. What would he think of my upbringing?

"Mmm. This has all been really wonderful." Larry looked sad a moment. "I hope ... Roman, I don't want you to think bad of me — being exhausted and all — but ... can we go out again this weekend? Maybe I'll have a chance to rest enough to show you some more energy?" He smiled with a boyish innocence that melted me in my seat.

"I'd enjoy that."

"I have your number," he said. "I'll call."

Despite the cappuccino, his eyes were still very heavy. I needed to allow him to get home — safely. I motioned for the check.

After I signed it, I reached for his wrist. "Thank you again for exceeding my expectations with the work. But thank you more for sharing your company with me." Larry smiled in return.

As we exited Lawrence Creek, we realized that our cars weren't far from each other. Before veering off to his, Larry took my hand and pulled me closer to him.

"You're very nice, Roman. I know I wasn't the liveliest person tonight, but I've had a wonderful time. You have no idea how much this has meant to me. It was a spectacular dinner. Thank you so much."

Before I could even respond, he leaned in to press his lips to mine. It was a short kiss, but I loved it.

"Hope that was okay," he whispered.

I watched as he stepped away from me and waved as he entered his car.

I felt great.

 

Saturday

Laramie

I felt terrible. I wanted to devote the day to Roman, and I got sucked into work. But I was free by lunch. We only stayed open until 3 on Saturday, so I felt my staff could handle the rest.

I texted Roman. "I'm free."

My cell rang.

"I didn't feel like texting," he said when I answered. "I'm glad you are now available. I've freed my day for you."

He had spent so much on me the other night. I offered to treat us to dinner and a movie.

"Are you familiar with McGee's?" I asked.

"Mmm. I don't think I've been there. I have an idea. How about you meet me at my house. We can just take your car."

That answer said a thousand things. His house. I was packing something for overnight, just in case.

"Sure. How about a fairly early dinner then a movie following?" I asked.

"Sounds like a plan," Roman answered.

We set a time for 6 o'clock.

Once again, I lamented the drudgery of dating. What should I wear for this one? Surely, we could be casual. Should I wait for him to invite me to stay over? Was it implied? If I did, what was I wanting out of sex? I hated those awkward conversations. It was easy with Micah. And Freddy. After months and months, we could easily steer lovemaking toward what we were feeling in the moment. Why was I nervous?

At 6:02, Roman answered the door in khakis, a long-sleeved shirt and a tie. I was surprised. I had opted for a collarless shirt and my best black jeans.

"Hi," he smiled. He examined my dress. "Let me ditch the tie."

Two minutes later, he came back with the same shirt sans tie, and he changed into jeans.

"You looked perfectly fine," I shared.

"Eh. It's nice to be casual on a date. I attend so many functions that require me to dress up. What I had on was casual to me. This is great."

"Good. McGee's is very casual. Peanut shells on the floor."

"Really?"

"You'll see."

He did. His expression was one of bemusement that peanut shells were strewn — everywhere. We chose a booth after placing our order at the counter. I told Roman they had wine, but he opted to have a beer with me. I thought about ordering a pitcher, but I didn't want to be buzzed before the movie.

I ordered The Kitchen Sink, which was a burger that had three cheeses, bacon, ham, sauteed mushrooms and crispy onion straws. He had a cheeseburger.

He was excited that sales of the visiting symphony next weekend were very strong. He talked a bit more of his work and then asked me about my day. I told him that I had hired someone this morning. Miles. I knew it was going to be good to have an extra hand at the store.

I figured burgers weren't Roman's norm, but he seemed to like his. Mine was superb.

We scrolled through our movie options. I would have chosen The Batman, but he said he wasn't into superhero films. I agreed to see Cyrano, even though I knew nothing about it other than the general story I had heard about in junior high. I wasn't expecting it to be a musical. Roman really enjoyed it; I stared at it. Even though the film didn't overwhelm me, I was more taken by simply spending an evening with another man. I couldn't believe how long it had been. Micah and I were a story wrapped up so long ago. I had two hookups over the past two years, but it would have been a reach to call either of them a boyfriend. Roman was different. He had a sophistication that should have intimidated me, but he was kind. I enjoyed my time with him.

As we pulled into his driveway, he reached for my hand. It startled me. He pulled me to him after I released my seatbelt. His lips were on mine. I put my hand behind his head and pressed us together tighter.

"I've enjoyed our night," he whispered.

"Me too," I concurred.

"Would you like to extend it?"

It was my invitation. "Well," I sheepishly said. "I did bring an overnight bag."

"I noticed," he winked.

 

Roman

Damn. I was nervous and excited and intimidated and nervous and eager and horny and ... nervous.

It was 10:06.

"I'm sorry that I don't have any beer, Larry. Do you like wine at all?"

"I'll join you in a glass if you are having one," Larry said.

As I poured our wine, I noticed Larry running his fingers over the shelves in my library. His smile indicated to me that he admired their quality. Or that was the way I interpreted it. He was looking at how the mantle accented the crown molding in the living room. I handed him his glass.

As we reclined on the couch, I kicked off my shoes first and gestured to indicate that he could get comfortable. He smiled and nodded and followed suit.

"It's been a while since I've had a handsome man over."

"I'll say `thank you,' for both the compliment and the wine."

I let my hand rest on his leg. I couldn't tell if his crotch moved or if I just imagined it. I knew mine had. With each minute, with each sip, my anatomy became harder and harder. I knew we would be naked together eventually, but I already wanted to see his bare body in the worst way.

After a few minutes, Larry placed his hand on top of mine. He set his glass down on the end table. I placed mine on the coffee table and we leaned forward to kiss each other. For a few minutes, we were preoccupied with each other's lips. My hand roamed the outside of his shirt. His hand returned to my leg. His fingers moved precariously close to my raging erection, which only made it harder (somehow).

Larry leaned his body forward to let his other hand unbutton the top two buttons of my shirt. His hand slipped inside to grope my chest. I wished I had chest hair to make me appear more masculine. He didn't seem to mind. Another two buttons opened. His hand explored further. I slightly breathed a moan into his mouth. I felt honored to have such a handsome man feeling my body.

I braved a slight touch to his crotch. His jeans made it difficult to determine the length of his erection, but it felt rigid. It was going to be mine. I tried to skirt the nervousness and just focus on the upcoming pleasure.

He panted a little as my fingers graced his loins. I was pleased that I had aroused him by doing so. Larry was such a beautiful man. I considered myself fortunate that we were being romantic. His body would soon be revealed to me.

His hand continued to caress my chest. I loved feeling him feeling me. My dick was about to slice through my pants. I groaned and kissed him harder. Our heavy breathing was intoxicating. It was more powerful than the alcoholic drinks we had enjoyed thus far.

I pulled away. "Let's- "

"Yes," he interjected.

As we stood, there was a noticeable bulge in his jeans. Mine pushed out harder. Laramie took a quick gulp of cabernet, and we moved down the hall to my bedroom.

We weren't preparing for bed. We were preparing to have sex. He loosened the last button on my shirt and ripped it out of my waistline. With precision teamwork, we freed it from my body and cast it to the floor.

I pulled his long-sleeve shirt over his arms. He lifted them to make the disrobing a breeze.

My lord. His chest was magnificent. The amount of hair enthralled me. I was the luckiest man on Earth. It was about to be mine.

I stripped to my boxers. They were noticeably a tent — pitched for bed. My hard-on jutted the cotton like never before.

It took seconds for Larry to be completely naked.

Naked.

Beautifully naked.

Triumphantly naked.

He was a magnificent man. His masculinity pushed every arousal button I possessed.

I dropped to my knees.

 

Laramie

Roman got right to the point. He swallowed my cock immediately. Jesus, it had been so fucking long since I had true sex. I tilted my head back and gently grabbed his head as he swallowed me. His mouth on my dick felt wonderful. I always loved a good blowjob. I knew I was going to enjoy it. My fingers glided through his perfectly brushed hair as his mouth continued to pulsate on my shaft.

"I like it. Thank you," I said in approval. A hum reverberating into my cock was a "You're welcome."

One hand formed a ring with his thumb and forefinger and stimulated the base of my hard-on. The other had a feathery touch on my balls.

"Roman. Roman. Damn, I love this."

He continued servicing me for a few more minutes. I couldn't let him get me too close. I pulled him up, lifting him completely off the floor and tossed him onto his bed. He laughed in surprise at my dramatic enthusiasm. Had he been in white socks, I would have left them. The darker socks didn't do it for me. I yanked on them until I freed his feet. With two hands I grasped his boxers and pulled them over his tight cock. It sprang free and jutted upward like a fighter jet.

It looked nice.

It looked hard as steel.

It looked sleek.

It looked like it needed me to suck it.

"Ohhhhhhhhh, Larry," he moaned as my mouth lubricated his iron organ with my saliva. I sucked on his flesh, and he didn't stop moaning. I teased the underside with my tongue, and he didn't stop crying out my name. I swallowed his whole piece and breathed hot breath from my nostrils into his bush, and he didn't stop screaming. It only took a few minutes. "Larry. Oh, Larry. Yes. OH, LARRY!!!"

I coughed as the first stream struck the back of my throat. I focused on taking the rest as I felt cum explode in my mouth. I insisted my throat take it. My mouth gyrated around his cock stimulating it to produce every surge of cum his balls would release.

He went limp.

"Dear God, man." He laughed and smiled. "I wanted to last longer, but ... my word! That was intense."

I straddled his body. My rod was still a crowbar aching for attention.

"Grab it," I directed.

He looked up at me and followed the command. He pulled on me. He jerked me.

"Yeeeeeaaaaahhhh," I said in a voice almost sinister.

I leaned back on my stiff arms and just let him stroke my member. It felt nice for someone else to do all the work. I had jerked my own dick for months. This was heavenly. I was in no rush. The stimulation in my cock was outstanding, but I knew I wasn't close. But ... God. Cock. Outstanding. Stimulation. Roman kept working my erection with an excellent rhythm. I had no clue to his level of experience, but he knew how to pull and jerk my cock in just the right way.

Magnificence.

My flesh felt on fire. I pictured it glowing like melted glass pulled from the flames of a glass blower's pole. It felt so hard in Roman's grip. He occasionally teased the head of my rod with the flick of his tongue. Then the whole rim. And he jerked and pulled and stimulated...

Then it stopped.

I jolted my head back up to look. He leaned back up from stretching his body to reach for a bottle of lube. I saw him drip a line down the length of my cock. He snapped the lid and tossed the bottle onto the bed between the pillows.

Roman's grip circulated around my dick completely making my erection slick. I could now specifically hear his stimulation of my manhood. The lubricated noise sounded hot. I leaned back again and let him work my flesh with gusto.

"Fuuuuuuuccckkk. Yeeeeeaaaaahhhhhhhhh."

He jerked my cock.

He yanked my cock.

He stroked my cock.

"ROOOOMAN!!! Fuck, man. Work it over. Work my fucking cock. Make that meat completely yours."

He moaned again, wanting to please me in his service.

He worked it.

He pounded it.

He wrestled it.

"GOOOOHHDDD!!! Fuck, yes! Do it man. You're bringing me close."

"Yeah," he breathed.

"Make me come!"

"Yeah," he breathed.

"Oh! Oh, man. OH, FUCK! I'm fucking COMING!!"

"Yeah. Shoot on me."

I did. I just growled with my face craned toward the ceiling with my eyes closed. I had no idea where my cum was landing. It just felt magnificent shooting from my cock. Sensory overload. Pulse after pulse fired from my groin. My howl stretched until it elongated into a begging whine. I didn't want it to stop.

And I was spent. I caught my breath for a moment. I leaned up and looked at streaks of my orgasm spread up his chest. One drip hit his chin.

Roman was all smiles.

"I liked that," he said.

"I think you can tell I did too."

We chuckled.

I flopped down next to him. He returned the lube to the nightstand but reached for a hand towel also stashed there. After he had wiped my male liquid from his torso and neck, he tossed the rag to the side and turned toward me. I met him with a kiss that lunged upon him powerfully.

When I pulled back, he smiled at me again. I had enjoyed our romantic engagement, but I slightly wondered if I was too loud. For our first time.

I got up from the bed, which confused him. I could tell. I returned to the bedroom with our half-finished glasses of wine in each hand. He laughed. I took a sip of mine and put it on my nightstand. He continued to lie on his back. I propped the pillow and sat up as to not drip wine onto his sheets.

"So," I began. "What is your tomorrow like?"

"Well, the first half of the day is free."

"Want to go out for coffee in the morning?"

"I'd like that," Roman replied.

 

Roman

Obviously, I had an expensive coffee maker here at the house. Still, going out with Larry would be enjoyable. We were just starting out, but I got the sense that we connected well. I've never had a man as handsome as Larry interested in me. His world is far different than mine, but I liked him as a person. I was drawn to him. He was quite rambunctious and vocal during sex. It was a nice change. It's not that my former boyfriends were necessarily effeminate, but they sure weren't the cowboy Larry was.

We drank the last bit of our wine and then went to the bathroom to brush our teeth. I watched Larry take in the décor of my bathroom. I'm glad I had it perfectly spotless for him. I noticed his eyes roaming the room as he churned froth at his mouth. I got the distinct impression that he felt my bathroom was nicer than his. I hoped that earned me some brownie points. I couldn't compete with his body, but my house was a nice one.

We returned to the bed naked. I momentarily felt awkward.

"Um. I don't typically sleep completely naked. What's your preference?"

"Can't say I have a preference, per se," Larry answered. "Usually underwear."

"I like having something on," I said. "But ... if you want ... I could stay this way." Did that sound dumb?

"Well, jeez. My last boyfriend and I weren't always the same. Sometimes we slept in underwear and T-shirts. Sometimes it was just ... stay naked because we had just done it." He nervously laughed. "I – I – I don't feel strongly about it."

I felt I had ruined the mood. I just felt weird about sleeping naked. I suppose it wasn't a real mystery while I was still single. I had my quirks.

"I don't have to put on sleepwear," I said. "If you don't mind, I'll just grab a T-shirt and put on my boxers."

"I can still feel you through those."

I laughed at his racy comment.

"I'll put on my briefs for you."

I smiled and felt like a four-year-old child. This wonderful specimen of a man was naked before me, and I made him uncomfortable enough to where he put on some clothing for my sake. Why was I so idiotic at times?

I turned out the light. In the darkness I rolled over to kiss him. "I'm glad you are here tonight, Larry."

"Me too," he said, giving me a second kiss.

I rolled into his arms. His hand reached around me and held my chest. I caught my breath. I was melted wax. I wished I hadn't come so fast earlier. But he still seemed to have a great time while we shared a period of intimacy. If we did this again, I was going to ask if he would be willing to be inside me. Just thinking of us in intercourse made my penis stiffen again.

Almost as if a miracle of telepathy, his hand reached down and slipped under the waistband of my boxers. His fingers wrapped around my growing organ.

"I hope it's okay if I hold it a while. I promise I won't all night."

"I won't complain," I softly said. I wanted him to hold it for the rest of my life.

He squeezed me until I was almost fully erect again. If he had asked, I would have let him penetrate me at that very instant.

"I like your cock," he whispered in my ear and then nibbled on the lobe. If I was melted wax before, my flesh was evaporating at his magnetism. How did I get so lucky?

Larry kissed the back of my neck. Slowly he gripped and stroked my phallus. Slowly. Slowly. His grip loosened. A minute later, I could tell by his breathing that he had fallen asleep. I regretted not crawling into bed naked. If his penis was hard again, I would love to feel it pressed into me.

It took me half an hour, but I eventually drifted off into slumber.

 

—

 

I loved sliding soapy suds over Larry's chest. He didn't let go of my rigid staff since we started our shower.

We both knew we were completely clean, but we didn't want to leave the steamy confines of our glass enclosure. Larry pulled me tight with a forceful kiss. He yanked my erection as our tongues acquainted themselves. I pulled his manhood. And we didn't stop. He stroked me. We kissed. I jerked him. We moaned. And kissed. And groaned. And pulled. And kissed. And groped. And kissed. And consumed.

We were going to see it to the end.

"Roman," he whispered into his kiss. "My cock feels so good in your grip."

"As does mine in yours."

"Fuck my fist," he said.

I assumed he wanted me to thrust my hard flesh in and out of his firm grip. Why wouldn't I? It felt glorious. I thrusted my hips forward and back to move my throbbing six inches through his fingers. At the same time, I worked his anatomy with a fierce urgency. We pulled our faces apart to groan loudly.

"Yes," I said.

"Fuck yes," he said.

"Oh, yes," I said.

"Holy fuck. Holy FUCK. Roman!"

"Me too. Don't stop, Larry. Don't stop. You're going to bring me off."

`Oh, Roman. Oh, Roman! Ohhhhh, FUCK!" he screamed.

I watched his semen burst from his male masterpiece. I loved seeing it land at our feet. I kept thrusting my erection into his grip. He assisted by yanking it harder. I felt my orgasm rise. It was so close.

"Yes!" I screamed. I sealed our lips together and moaned from my throat into his as my crotch released what seemed like gallons.

 

—

 

Laramie

Twenty minutes after our shower, we pulled up to Joe, a coffee shop in the gay part of town. I hadn't been here in weeks. I used to come fairly regularly, but the workload of taking over the store curtailed me coming to Joe as often as I used to. It was the closest I had been getting to being among gay people for quite some time.

I looked around as we entered. An older gentleman was reading a paper. There was an interracial couple. One was tapping a text on his phone; the other one was slightly swaying to the music being fed into his ears via his phone's ear pods.

The smell of cinnamon rolls permeated the coffee shop. We immediately knew we wanted one. Each.

We selected a table. Roman walked to the flavoring counter to add something to his coffee. I watched him scan his options. I couldn't tell which flavor he had chosen, but he only put about half a squirt in it. Then he added 2% and stirred.

The server brought my cappuccino along with our two cinnamon rolls. They were heaven. The two of us didn't say much for a few minutes. We just hummed approval with each delicious bite.

"How busy is your week?" Roman finally asked me.

"Right now, I'm always busy. At least I hired Miles yesterday. Amos and I will have to train him this week."

"So... can we do this again next weekend?"

"Absolutely," I said. "I've enjoyed our weekend. Maybe you can stay at my place next time?"

"Oh. Okay. Sure."

"Full disclosure. It isn't nearly as nice as yours."

"Oh, please. Like that matters."

He went quiet a moment, and I saw his eyes darting around the table as his thoughts scattered. What was he thinking? Was he not used to people not having houses as nice as his? Was he thinking about us in bed? Was he planning on us fucking? Was he thinking of ways to try to make me stay at his place instead? What was he thinking?

I hated dating. With Micah, we found our groove. Starting everything again was always a drag. But I liked Roman. I knew that.

We talked a little bit more about his cabinets I had made and how the kitchen had now reached his expectations. He was kind to compliment my craftsmanship. That was common ground for us. It was what was unsaid that affected me more. I found myself getting lost in someone's eyes again. It had been so long. From time to time, I could tell he was feeling the same. His gaze into my eyes conveyed so much. It was heartwarming to feel this way again. I was wondering if I had forgotten how.

"I'm sorry this week is going to be so busy, but ... I can look forward to next weekend, right?" I spoke. "What should we do?"

"Well, we..." he started.

Then Roman paused. His eyes roamed as he tried to find something we would both enjoy. I did the same. As much as I enjoyed my random evenings playing pinball at the Barcade, I knew that wouldn't be him. Clearly, he wouldn't be a fisherman.

"Um. What do you like to do? There's an author's lecture at the Arts Center, but ... that probably doesn't sound fun."

"I guess you don't fish," I interjected.

"Not once in my life," Roman replied.

"I haven't been in almost a year. I should just get rid of all that stuff in the garage."

We continued to flounder for ideas.

"Do you like to dance? We could go to The Black Stallion."

Roman looked panicked. "As in ... as in two-step and line dancing and such?"

"Well ... yeah."

"Oh, you dear man. I'd embarrass you so. I'm afraid my parents had me schooled in the more formal types of dances. I wasn't allowed anything `fun.' I don't even think I would have anything to wear to such a place."

"Surely you own a pair of jeans," I insisted.

"Two actually. One blue and one black."

"Well, that's a start. Wear those."

Roman looked unsure.

"We'll figure it all out next weekend."

"Right. Here's my address," I said, tapping a text to him. "Is 3 o'clock okay? I'll work the morning and then come home and shower."

"Ooo. Can I help you with that?" Roman deviously said.

I laughed. "I can look pretty sweaty. Not my best look."

"I've seen you sweaty. I sort of like it."

"You flatter me, Roman."

"I plan on doing more than that."

My dick got hard. Again.

 

That night

Laramie Jenkins (33)
Grayson Jenkins (29)

 

Laramie

I touched Grayson's contact info on my cell.

"Hey, little brother," I said as he picked up.

"You know I always hated being called that. A) I'm 29, about to turn 30. B) We're the same height."

"Fine. You'll always be that to me. There are times I still picture us running barefoot around the farm."

"You hated it when I spent time with you."

"Not always. When I wanted to be with another boy..."

"Did you fool around with all your friends back then?"

"Lord no. They were just friends. Mostly. It wasn't until late in high school that Charlie and I ... well, anyway. I had a date this weekend. It was ... really good."

"Great. Spare me the sexual details but tell me about it."

"What makes you think we had sex? It was our second date."

"You're gay."

"That's kind of a stereotype, isn't it?" I paused. "But yes, we did."

He laughed. "Tell me about him."

"He's nice. He was actually a customer and..."

"Really!!? Is that ... is that a good thing?"

"Is it a bad thing?"

"Well, I don't know. Hitting on your customers seems kind of..."

"He asked me out."

"Oh. That's fine then. Nothing creepy there."

"Creepy. Swell," I said flatly.

"Are you seeing him again?"

"Next weekend. But that's the thing, Gray. This guy is kind of ..."

"What?"

"He's kind of more sophisticated than me. You should see his house. Big, beautiful, impeccable. He clearly has money. I just wonder what he'll really find in me."

"Did you have fun?"

"Yeah. We saw a movie. I let him pick. It wasn't something I would have chosen, but I liked just spending time with someone. Dinner was good. Sex was hot. He was good company. I'm just wondering if us being in different worlds will eventually make it weird. You know?"

"If you don't judge him, maybe he won't judge you."

"He doesn't seem that way. I think he wants us to spend time together, but ... it's like we are a bit clumsy figuring out how to be with each other. Maybe I'm just overthinking it."

"Yeah."

 

Grayson

But he probably wasn't. I didn't see this going anywhere. I couldn't picture Larry with a high society man. He wouldn't fit. Maybe I was visualizing all of it wrong and the two would work out. I was just glad to see him putting himself out there. My brother was a nice person. I had shown a picture of him to a couple gay friends in college. They thought he was handsome. To me, he was just my brother. They thought me handsome too, but Larry always had the better build.

"Just have fun."

"Right. I've never thought of myself as boyfriend material..."

"Stop that. You are."

"Maybe ... but I'm willing to give this a go. I'm well into my 30s, Gray. I can't say I don't feel lonely from to time. Love had never really worked out for me. Freddy and I just didn't have timing, and Micah was just not ready. He was in a different place. I've buried myself in work — and it's exhausting — but I do hope for it ... you know, someday."

"I imagine most people do. I'm a proponent of love, so I'm with you."

"We'll see."

"Do you still carve?" I asked, changing the subject.

"Not as much. I should. It always relaxed me."

"You're great at it."

"Thank you. I wish something would inspire me."

We talked a few more minutes. I briefly mentioned our parents. I knew he wasn't necessarily concerned, but I felt he should be kept up to date. I mentioned some things changing in Kansas, not that there was a lot, but a few things were being built. Nothing in Eureka, that's for sure. Although I was overdue for a visit back home.

As adults, my brother and I could tell each other we loved them. Maybe it was Phillip being taken from us. I got the impression I was Larry's only true sense of family.

After I hung up, Miranda joined me on the couch.

"Was that your brother?"

I nodded.

"How's he doing?"

"Okay, I guess. He went out with someone again."

"It's been a while, hasn't it."

"Yeah. That's why he called. I've always encouraged him to date. I'm not sure if this guy is the right fit, but at least he is putting himself out there."

"What's it like having a gay brother?"

I reflected on the question. "Hm. I don't know. I never really thought about it. I felt the same about both him and Phillip. I was closer in age to Larry, so I felt a stronger bond in that regard, but they were both my brothers, so they were ... the same. I knew Mom and Dad would be weird about Lar' being gay, so I questioned why. When I couldn't figure out why it should make a difference, I realized it didn't to me. I mean, Mom, it's possibly a bible thing. Dad isn't a real church goer. I just think it was his upbringing."

"You're so hip," she said, kissing my cheek.

I smiled at her remark.

 

The next Saturday

Roman Berringer
Laramie Jenkins

 

Roman

I told Larry that his house not being as nice as mine made no difference. I wished it was true, but as I set foot inside, I knew I felt something off. Not in a judgmental way. Shit. It was totally judgmental. It wasn't that I was looking down upon him. I liked him. A lot. It just started making me question things more deeply. I liked him. A lot. It would be nice if this could work out, but I was beginning to wonder.

"As I said, it's not as nice as your house," Larry said, welcoming me in.

"Don't give that a second thought. It's fine."

It was slightly curious. Some of the furniture looked ancient. A few things were stunning. Most of the art looked very Hobby Lobby, but then there was a magnificent wall hanging made of wood.

"This is beautiful!" I remarked, wanting to say something nice about his house.

"Thank you. I made that."

"Seriously? It's magnificent."

"Oh, I wouldn't say that."

"I would. Do you offer this type of art in your store? I don't recall seeing any."

"No. That was just for me. Actually, an old boyfriend commented on something like it when we were staying in a hotel on a trip. I guess he encouraged me to try something."

"You should really sell something like this."

"The time involved to do it ... I'm not sure if it is the best investment of my time. Maybe if things ever get slow again. They were slightly in the winter. That worried me because I had just taken over the store. But then it has picked up. Quite a bit in the last month. I'm glad I have Miles now."

"Is it hard being a storeowner?"

"Not hard. Well, fuck yeah, the hours are a bit hard right now. The worst part is being responsible for these employees. I mean, our staff isn't huge. At all. But I do worry that if we have slow spells, what about payroll and all that? The work hasn't changed much; but the responsibility has."

I noticed Larry would randomly cuss without thinking. I was brought up to never allow curse words to be spoken. At least in our house. Forbidden.

"Can I show you the back of the store?"

"Your shop?" I asked.

"Yeah."

"Um. Okay. Yes. Sure."

I had been there, obviously. I had been a customer. I was intrigued what he might wish to show me.

Twenty minutes later, I was in the back of Jenkins Mantle. Larry had put on a cowboy hat. He looked so masculine in it.

"This is larger than I had pictured. I can't imagine your overhead."

"I was fortunate to be able to acquire the long-term lease the former owner had in place. It isn't as bad as you might think."

Larry showed me the steps he went through to create my cabinets. It made him seem even more manly to me. When he demonstrated the tools to make the sculpted edges on a scrap piece of wood, sawdust flew in the air. I instinctively stepped back. At the end of my private tour, I told him I was impressed.

We drove back to his house. Before getting back into his car, I made sure to brush off my jeans for any lingering dust, but then realized his car mats seemed sprinkled with it, particularly his. I didn't feel uncomfortable in his car, but I was glad I wasn't in my black suit.

As we walked back into his home, Larry looked at me a moment.

"I like you in jeans," he smiled.

"Thanks. I rarely wear them in public. Usually around the house on the weekend."

"Roman Berringer, you need to let your hair down. They look quite good on you." Larry's lips then met mine.

We kissed for a moment in his living room. Standing. Being in his arms — those wonderful arms — just made the rest of the world go away. I kissed him harder. Larry's arms pulled me into him tighter. My penis was quite hard. I wondered if he could feel it pressed into him. Would he think that was sexy or did it come off as needy?

As much as I was enjoying being with Larry, I knew I wasn't exceptional dating material. I hoped to make a good impression on this wonderful man.

Larry gently pushed me away.

"I – I don't want to rush the date. I'm looking forward to ... tonight," he said blushing, which I found adorable. "Let's bring your bag in."

We took a moment to retrieve my small overnight bag from the back seat and place it in his bedroom.

We resumed kissing and reclined our bodies on his bed. For a few minutes, just letting our lips touching carried all the conversation that was necessary. I combed my fingers through Larry's short hair. I loved how it felt. I loved how he felt.

We took a break from romance and just stared at each other again.

"Do you like photography?" I asked.

"Huh?"

"Photography. There is an exhibit at The Thurman."

"I love The Thurman Museum. It's beautiful inside."

"Yes. It is. The photography is from all the counties that touch Jackson County, all six."

"Sure. I'm up for it."

Wonderful. I found something we both could appreciate. I didn't want dinner and a movie to be our only go-to.

For thirty minutes we examined the photographs on display. We didn't always appreciate the same things in each one. We both agreed that the technique of each was extraordinary, but Larry picked up on things that I wouldn't have on several outdoor pictures in the country. He explained a few things in select photographs that also existed in his farm home in Kansas. Having grown up in the city, country life was quite foreign to me.

When we had finished, Larry gently grabbed my hand and pulled me into another room. I rarely showed male affection in public, but it was not because I was afraid of it. I just ... didn't. I accepted it, and it didn't last long, but my heart was smiling more profusely than my face that he took my hand for a moment. Larry made an effort to point out the detailing in the historic crown molding, the light fixtures and shelving many artifacts in the room rested on. It made me appreciate them more. And him.

We went to a Mexican restaurant called Jalisco. I ordered a sauteed tilapia; Larry ordered something that sounded impossible for human consumption.

"I love it," he said. "It's my favorite dish here."

"I don't think my stomach could take the jalapenos combined with all ... that."

Larry crunched a chip after dipping it into his container of salsa.

 

Laramie

I wasn't sure Roman liked my choice of restaurants. I figured everyone loved Tex-Mex. Perhaps in his circle of friends, dipping chips in salsa and queso wasn't the norm. The salsa here was awesome, so I knew he would learn to love it. He reached for a second chip and dipped it into his salsa carefully, if not delicately.

His eyes met mine. My expression must have been one of a question. He suddenly looked puzzled.

"Good salsa, right?"

"Oh, yes. It is. Not too hot, just spicy enough," he said politely.

I wished I had chosen something fancier.

When our food arrived, I could tell he liked his dish. I was happy about that. He leaned over the table and looked intensely at mine.

"Nope. All those peppers would kill me."

"You only live once," I said courageously.

Halfway through dinner I figured I would attempt another shot at going to the Black Stallion.

"So, Rome, do you think I could talk you into going dancing for just a bit?" I said sheepishly. I suddenly felt like a ten-year-old girl asking her father for a pony.

"Ohhhh, Larry. I'd be a disaster. I don't think this shirt would fit."

He was right in that regard. It was too pressed, too proper, too expensive. It screamed to have a tie worn with it.

"I have something at home that might work."

Roman looked hesitant.

We didn't rush dinner. It was pleasant enough with light conversation, but I felt he was trying to figure out ways to get out of the Black Stallion.

It was just after 8 when we got back to my place. My second margarita had me in a slight buzz. Roman had tried to be in the moment of the dinner with a Sangria. He was fine.

"Take your shirt off," I said as we walked into my bedroom.

"It's sad that I should love that sentence, but I'm still concerned about going to a country and western bar."

"Gay bar," I said.

He folded his shirt neatly on the bed. I had the feeling he expected to have shirt options handed to him. I stood there smiling and lowered to kiss his right nipple. My tongue ran across his chest. Roman exhaled in gratification. I knew he wasn't expecting this surprise. It calmed his anxiety. My lips made miniature kisses down his chest. He had just a hint of hair in a stripe above his navel. I kissed down to it and grabbed a few strands of hair in my teeth. It was silly but he giggled. His erection, although suppressed within denim, was further than half mast in its confinement. I could see it bulge. My hands unfastened his belt buckle and ripped it from the loops of his jeans like an escape artist. He looked like he was about to utter some sort of response, but before he could, my hands had unfastened and unzipped his jeans. I pulled down his boxers and freed his dick.

`Ungh," Roman called, as my mouth devoured his cock.

Conversation stopped. For a couple of minutes, the room was silent. My slobbery blowjob was slow enough to not make a sound. His breathing was barely audible. His fingers in my hair brushed without so much as a whisper. It was silent unexpectedness. I felt his erection stiffen to its full length in my mouth, and I tasted every skin cell as it had done so.

I pulled off and stood again. I kissed him on the lips.

"That was mean of me. I shouldn't tease like that. I just saw your chest and..."

"I enjoyed it," he whispered to me.

I kissed him again and turned my attention back to the closet. I pulled out two shirts. Roman was slimmer than me, but we were close enough to the same size that he should easily wear a large.

I held up two shirts. One was just a solid pink, but a thick material and western cut. The other looked like it was in a cowboy catalog with a pattern of diamonds and horseshoes.

"Definitely not that one," he said pointing to the latter. I'd look like a fish out of water.

His dick was still jutting skyward. He hadn't put it away. I hung the western shirt on his erection.

"How about this one?" I asked.

He laughed at the placement of the first shirt and took it off and laid it on the bed. He stuffed his hard-on in his jeans as best he could.

"I actually like the pink one."

"Good." I kissed him again and rubbed his bulge. "I'm sorry I was a naughty boy before."

"I'm not," he said with a wink.

For a gay bar, 9 o'clock was early, but it was the weekend, so The Black Stallion had enough people in it to feel lively but not crowded.

Roman's expression tried to disguise his true thoughts, but I knew this wasn't his scene. He was surprised to see a couple of women on the dance floor dancing with men, but he liked watching two males two-step.

`You got dinner. I'll get drinks," I said. "What'll you have?"

"Does such an establishment have wine?"

"I'm sure they do. Red or white?"

"Chardonnay please."

Two men joined others and vacated a high bartop. Roman and I grabbed the table. We pulled up two stools and enjoyed our drinks.

"How often do you come here?" he asked.

"Not a lot. Since taking over the store, my social life has sort of gone down the toilet. I thank you for rescuing me."

 

Roman

I was the one needing rescuing. There was nothing wrong with this place. People seemed to be having a good time. A few people were louder than I would prefer, but it was interesting to see a part of gay culture that I didn't frequent. I knew it wasn't the types of social places I typically patronized; hopefully that wasn't blatantly evident to others. But I had to admit it was fine. I just liked being with Laramie. All the men in cowboy hats looked studly.

"I like our time together," I said, before the pause became too long as for my reply to no longer make sense.

"Me too."

He leaned to give me a deep kiss. I knew I was in a room full of people. Would they be staring?

They were not. They weren't remotely interested in us. I needed to come to these places more often. How comforting. The bar scene never appealed to me, but the informality of it all — and the open freedom — seemed nice.

It wasn't as easy to talk, but we made a few comments to each other. The saloon doors. The redhead wearing a bolo tie. Dolly Parton. Beer vs. wine. The club décor. Jalapeno peppers.

Larry and I started to develop a comfort level with each other. I rubbed my pinky finger against his as our hands rested on the table. He moved his. We "held pinkies."

"When did you come out to your family?" Larry inquired. "Is it okay if I ask that?"

"Sure. No problem. I was 25."

"24 for me."

"They handled it well. I just knew. I hadn't had a lot of experience. One man actually. But I knew. I told them, and they were fine with it. Being in the social circles that they were, homosexuality wasn't necessarily rare."

"Any big relationships since?"

"Big?? No. Maybe in my 20s. That was the biggest. I hadn't technically moved in with him, but I spent most nights over there at his place."

"Did you ever bring him to your place?"

"No. Well, once. I had introduced him to my parents, and he just spent the night. We didn't have sex or anything with them in the house."

"Are your parents still in Jackson Bend?"

"No." I paused. "I lost them both in a car wreck about five years ago."

Larry looked horrified. "How terrible. I'm so sorry. To lose them both at the same time. I can't ... wow. Roman, I'm really sorry."

"I've dealt with it. The first year was hard. It's the only house I've ever lived in. I inherited it, obviously. And a sizable amount of money I suppose. Their status has always sort of defined my life. Galas, receptions, committees. I took on some significant roles when they passed. I'm not sure how. I guess they felt I was ingrained into so many organizations. I wasn't made the head of anything really. Then. I've stepped up on the Arts Committee since."

Larry reached for my hand. His fingers interlocked with mine. I hated bringing down the mood.

"In the years since, I've built this life that I now know. It's a bit lonely at times. The first year after I lost them, I just devoted time and money to the house. I made it into what I wanted while still keeping the history and character of it."

"It's beautiful. You've done a great job."

"Thanks. It has been the host home for a few city events. Your work in the kitchen was actually my final project."

"Well, congratulations on that accomplishment."

"Thanks."

"So, whatever happened to your ... guy?"

"Raymond. Ray. We met through the arts. Eventually he moved away to Chicago. He received a great job offer with a museum there. He couldn't turn it down."

"And you didn't want to go with him?"

"We weren't there yet. Several months. We would say, `I love you,' but I'm not sure it was a deep enough love to uproot my life and move away."

"Regrets?"

"Not really. We easily moved on, so I assume it wasn't meant to be forever."

"You've dealt with a lot."

"If I'm being honest, I've only been with four men before you, Larry. Sexually, that is."

"You say that as if there is supposed to be a quota or something."

"I'm sure you have much more experience than me."

"I wouldn't say a lot. I've never felt like I was good boyfriend material. Two special relationships, but both ended for different reasons. Casual people here and there."

"And me."

"And you."

We stopped talking for a while. Larry was on his second beer — at the club. I recalled him having two margaritas over dinner. His tolerance for alcohol was stronger than mine. It just made him seem more of a man to me.

We watched the dance floor become more crowded. Line dancing started for a while, and it became very full.

"Care to try?" he asked.

"Heavens, no. I'd only embarrass you."

An incredibly handsome man stopped by the table. "A'right guys, let's all get out there now."

Larry looked at me once again, but I waved him off. "You go ahead."

He gave me a peck on the lips and got up to walk with the gentleman.

"That's it now," the countrified man in a beautiful cowboy hat said. With his boots and shirt, he looked every bit a cowboy. All he needed was a gun in a holster and lasso of rope at his hip.

I took the last sip of my Chardonnay. I loved watching him. The two of them. All of them. They were having such fun. For a moment I wished I was somebody else. But only a moment. I loved every aspect of my life. I wouldn't change anything. But ... for a second, I wanted to be able to two-step and dance with the man I wanted to soon call my boyfriend.

Line dancing went on for a few songs. Then it returned to a number where people danced in couples again. A few men almost looked like professional dancers on the floor.

Larry took the last swig of his beer, somewhat warm by now. I could tell he was contemplating another. I hoped he didn't.

He heard the initial strands of a song and turned to me.

"A slow song! Come dance. This one you can do."

Apparently, I didn't have a choice as my arm was now being hauled to the dance floor. My body had no choice but to follow.

 

Laramie

I hoped Roman would enjoy being on the dance floor at least once.

The two of us swayed to the music, wrapped in each other's arms. I was glad he was willing to dance at least one song with me. I loved holding him. I never really focused on how alone I had been since Micah and I had split. Just having his body next to mine was a gift.

We kissed in the middle of the dance floor. And swayed. And held.

As the song started winding down, we loosened our tight grip on each other. I knew both of our drinks were empty. I noticed a barhop had taken our glasses.

"Want another drink?" I asked him.

"Is it okay if we leave?"

"Are you not having a good time?" I asked forlornly.

He placed his mouth at my ear. "I need you inside me," he whispered.

"I'll pay the check," I said.

Thirty minutes later I swished a quick burst of mouthwash in the bathroom. When I returned to the bedroom, Roman handed me the shirt I had loaned him.

"Thanks for taking care of me," he said.

His hands started unbuttoning my shirt. I kissed him as he continued to disrobe me. My lips melded with his as I felt my belt being removed. Our tongues explored as my hand held his head closer to mine. I felt the fly of my jeans being opened. He pushed them to the floor. Our mouths had not separated, and we were doing a miraculous job of breathing through our nostrils. His hand entered my briefs. My stiff flesh was waiting to be groped. I loved him feeling it.

We pulled apart and finished removing every piece of fabric and material from our bodies. I dropped on my knees as if worshiping an Egyptian pharaoh and sucked on his cock, which was reaching out to me.

"Ahhhh, Larry. My lord. That feels quite wonderful."

It did indeed, for both of us. I worked his rigid organ voraciously. He stood before me for three minutes as I sucked his cock, saliva escaping and dripping from my chin. It was incredible to have a dick in my mouth again. The feel of blood-filled male flesh was something I had intensely missed, even though I hadn't realized it until Roman stepped into my life.

He pulled from me. "Don't get me too far." He fell back onto the bed. "Do me."

"Oh. Fuck. Yes."

I had washed the sheets, so I grabbed a towel to keep our lovemaking liquids from making a mess. He lifted up to allow me to spread it below him.

"I'm all yours."

Roman watched as I reached for lube and popped the lid. I coated my dick with cool slickness.

"Nice fragrance," he said, inhaling the scent of vanilla.

I squirted more on two fingers and began sliding them at his hole. They tenderly entered his ass. His body slightly stiffened as I expanded his passage, but his hips accepted my intrusion. He slightly wiggled on my fingers. I fucked him for just a moment with my hand. He moaned. I knew he was ready to welcome me.

Roman reached for his legs and lifted as he spread them wide for me. I leaned forward positioning my pole at his entrance. I missed once, and then positioned it again. It went in. Just a little. Slowly. His expression told me to take it slow. I did. Slowly. Slowly. Slowly. I was all inside him. I remained still to allow him to adjust.

He let go with one hand and clutched my ass. He tried to push me in further.

"Larry. I needed this. Do me. I'm yours."

I began thrusting my cock into him. That made me grunt.

"Fuck, Roman. It feels good to be inside you."

"For me too."

I hadn't fucked anyone in fifteen months. Other than a foolish hookup after several drinks at The Black Stallion, there had been no one since Micah. That hookup only made me feel worse; we didn't even spend the night. This felt different. Roman's ass was heaven. Fucking heaven. Fucking glorious heaven.

My rod thrust harder. Deeper. Forcefully.

Roman moaned at my thrusts. I echoed back with my own groaning. Within minutes, we were a loud mass of male flesh. Flesh fucking flesh. Male fucking male. I felt a bit of perspiration trickle through my chest hair. I dropped to my elbows and planted my mouth over his. I kept grinding my crotch into his ass. He moaned into my mouth. I groaned into his.

We didn't say a lot. Through my grunts and cries of lust, I would occasionally softly call out his name. "Roman." Whenever my cock hit a good spot, he called out, "Larry."

After months and months of not being inside another man, the sensation on my erection was like inhaling drugs. My hardness inside him. Thrusting. My length inside him. Thrusting. My head inside him. Thrusting.

My impending orgasm began to rise.

"Roman, I'm getting closer. Do you want me to come in you?"

"Are you safe?"

We totally should have discussed this beforehand.

"I am. I know I am."

"Explode in me, Larry."

My hips thrust harder. I raised back up on stiff arms. My cock sliding in and out of his passage caused my body temperature to surge. I saw a drop of sweat drip onto his chest. His body was glistening with its own perspiration.

"Fuck, Roman. I love being inside you. My dick feels so good."

"Yes! Yes. Don't stop, Larry. Don't stop!!"

"Fuuuuuuck. Unghh!" My groans got louder — somehow — as my erection found more energy to grind into my lover.

Roman grabbed his flopping dick. It didn't look completely firm, but he started jerking it.

"Ungh. Ungh. Ohhhhh, Larry. Don't stop."

I was getting close. My dick was 200 degrees. The nerves throughout my shaft were bolts of lightning. My growl was a lion's roar.

"AAAAHHHHH! God, I'm coming!!" I screamed with a giant shove of my hips.

I pushed into Roman unloading one spurt of passion after another. Each pulse made me groan.

"I'm coming," I quietly whimpered as I felt my orgasm subside.

"Don't stop, Larry! Keep going! Don't stop."

Shit. I was spent, but Roman was still jerking his hard-on.

"Keep pushing your body into mine. Stay inside me. Don't stop," he panted.

His breathing was so labored, if we weren't having sex, I would have rushed him to the hospital.

His breathing became moans again.

"Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes." His head tilted back. "AAAAAUUUUNGH!"

A spray of cum fired into my abdomen and ricocheted to his chest.

"Yeah, man."

He continued to wail. And come. And pant. And squirm. And jerk.

He was done.

I pulled my red dick from his hole and flopped to his side. We both smiled a laughing chuckle.

"Jesus, that was hot," I said.

He laughed harder in affirmation.

After our breathing regulated, we got up and headed to the bathroom to clean up and brush out teeth. When we returned to the bedroom, I yanked the towel from the bed. Some spots on it indicated its use was a wise choice. I reached down for my briefs.

"Let's leave those off tonight," Roman said.

I smiled. "Okay."

"We'll just let these guys have some air tonight," he said, gesturing toward his dick.

It was the first time I had seen his dick flaccid. It hung about three inches. His grew more than mine, but I was slightly bigger and had a bit more girth. I liked his penis though.

I turned out the light and rolled over to kiss him.

"Can I hold you?"

"If there's a God," Roman said.

 

—

 

Roman

I was surfing through my living room. I wasn't sure why the river turned into my house, but I had grabbed the surfboard from the laundry room and rode the wave to my front door. It opened by itself, and I waved to my parents, gleefully telling them I had learned how to surf.

The river stopped. My house disappeared. My parents were dead. So...

As I awoke, I felt a hand on my groin. My penis was quite hard, as it usually was in the morning. I realized where I was, and I realized it was Larry's hand on the baseball bat protruding from my crotch.

I rolled completely on my back. I felt the sheet and covers being pulled away from the lower half of my body. I opened my eyes to see his hand reach toward my erection again. When it was slippery, I realized that pop I had just heard was the lid of his bottle of lube. He was slathering slickness on my shaft. The cobwebs from my mind had been pulled away. I wasn't expecting morning attention like this, but I just rested my head further into my pillow as the lubricant-coated grip on my stiff flesh pleasured me.

I wasn't loud. I just hummed a slight moan of approval.

Then I felt something nudge my hand. I looked up to see the bottle of lube being tapped on my hand. Ah. I sat up and propped the pillow behind me. He sat up too. I opened my hand, and Larry squirted lube into my palm.

For ten minutes, we glided our fists up and down each other's erections. Occasionally we would lean in to kiss, but we tried to keep our rhythm steady. The sound of slickness and motion seemed erotic in the moment. Doing the same motion for ten minutes would have become tedious if he wasn't so hot. And the kissing was arousing. And his writhing grip on my rod was the work of a sculptor.

I had my last orgasm eight hours ago, but this one was about to burst again.

"Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah," I whispered.

"Yeah," he called back, jerking me harder.

I lifted my hips and semen went everywhere. He made an audible smile seeing my erection achieve climax.

As good as that felt, I knew I needed to bring my lover off as well. I wiped my hand through my own liquid and my grip returned to this man's morning wood, now more slippery than before.

"Shit, yeah. Oh. Fuck yes."

My semi-hard penis bobbed as my arm stroked his organ like a piston. It took Larry two more minutes, but now my attention wasn't divided. It was all about bringing him off.

He did. A barking growl announced it. Just enough dripped into my fist to make it slick once again. It was the hottest thing my hand had ever done. A thick rod, lube, his semen, mine ... maybe I was still dreaming.

He kissed me. I felt bold. After a second kiss, I ran my tongue over his pole and returned for one last kiss. A sticky kiss.

"I've enjoyed this weekend," he said.

"Me too," I whispered into his lips.

 

—

 

As we showered, there was less stimulation of each other's bodies this time. Larry still got hard, but I didn't. My penis was resting.

"Hey, next weekend is the Indianapolis Symphony at the Arts Center."

"Why are they here?"

"Jackson Bend isn't large enough to have its own symphony. They are doing a ten-city tour. I was actually involved in the arrangements. It's kind of a big deal."

"Hmm."

"Maybe you..."

I stopped. In mere nanoseconds, my brain processed a million thoughts. I wanted to ask him to accompany me to the symphony. Then I felt quite sure he wouldn't have something appropriate to wear. Then I thought I could provide him a tux. Then I pictured him sitting there, probably not enjoying a moment of it. Then I thought about everything else on my calendar. Then I realized that I had a problem.

"Maybe you and I can do something beforehand," I followed.

"Oh. Possibly."

We didn't say anything else. We toweled each other off.

He went to start coffee in the kitchen. "I hope homemade brew is fine this weekend," he called out as he glided through the living room.

"Sure," I said flatly.

He piddled for close to ten minutes. When I hadn't joined him in the kitchen, he came back to the bedroom with a mug of coffee for me in his hand. He noticed me curled in the chair in the corner, fully dressed.

"Hey, you okay?"

"No."

"What's wrong, Rome?" he said, sitting on the arm rest.

I was fully dressed, and he only had briefs on. Somehow this made it harder.

"I am," I said.

"I don't understand."

"I am. I'm wrong. I'm wrong for you."

"What? Wait. We've had a great time together." He looked at me confused. "Haven't we?"

"Yes, we have. But ..."

"But what?"

"Take out the intimacy. Take out the sex and where are we?"

"I don't..."

"I will only make you miserable, Larry."

"How? What?"

"I like you. I really, really like you. I truly do. But ... I don't think you would fit in my world."

Larry was quiet.

"You think I'm not sophisticated enough? I would embarrass you then."

"No. Of course not. I'd be thrilled to have you standing next to me at any function I attend. I really would. I'd feel like the luckiest man on Earth. You're nice. You are so handsome. And I like you a lot."

"So, what's this all about?"

"I'd make you miserable. You'd hate pretending to enjoy the things I'm involved in."

"How do you know that? I could try."

"And I know you would. You'd be so nice about it — and the whole time, you'd be miserable, and I'd worry about that. And you would include me in things you like to do. And I'd try. And the whole time you wouldn't enjoy it because you'd be worried about me. And you'd be miserable. I'm not the right person for you."

"And I don't get a say in this?"

"I'm afraid to let you. Because I ..." I knew I was crying by that time because phlegm had formed in my throat, and I had to cough it loose. "You would try so hard because that's who you are. And I already like you too much. If I let this go on further, I know I am going to fall head over heels for you — and then we'd be miserable, and it would be so much harder."

"But..."

I hated that I had just stabbed him in his heart. I hated that our lives were in different circles. I hated that it was the truth. I couldn't possibly make Larry happy.

I reached to put the last of my things in my bag.

When I stood, I noticed a carving on his dresser. It was a figure reaching out a hand. I couldn't make out the exact details of the other form.

"Did you do this?" I blubbered.

"Yeah," he softly said. "It's unfinished. It's called `Goodbye.' I used to carve with Dad. I started that one when Micah and I broke up. I worked on it awhile. I guess when I felt better, I just set it to the side."

"It's nice. You're talented," I sniffed.

"I guess – I guess I'll finish it now."

I blubbered. I had hurt someone. Someone innocent. Someone who could mean the world to me. Someone who didn't deserve to be miserable with me.

Larry held me a moment, and I continued to sob in his arms. "I'm sorry," I muttered into his shoulder.

"Can we at least talk about it?" he whispered in almost a whimper.

"Goodbye," I said.

I picked up my bag. I set it back down. My hands grabbed his face, and I pulled him into a deep kiss.

"I'm sorry," I sniffed. "You deserve to be happy."

I headed to the front door of his house feeling the lowest I had in many years.

 

That night

Laramie Jenkins (33)
Freddy Spaulding (34)

 

Laramie

"So that's it, Freddy! We had two great weekends, and then he just dumps me. I'm just not boyfriend material."

"Well, Larry bear, he didn't just dump you. He explained it fairly well. But ... I'm sorry. I know it hurt. It had to."

"Yeah. At least we were only a couple of weeks into it. But, FUCK! I really liked him. I could have seen us going somewhere."

"But that was the point he made, right? Before your feelings dug too deep, he felt it best to end it now."

"I just don't get it. He said he liked me. He said he enjoyed his time with me."

"Have you been drinking?"

"Just two beers."

"Sounds like more than that."

"Okay, they were 24-ounce beers."

"So ... four."

"Whatever. I'm fine."

"I think they are affecting your mood."

"You aren't suggesting I should feel up and cheery, are you?"

"Of course not. Your feelings were hurt. I imagine he is hurting too."

I reflected on that. "Yeah. I'm sure he is. He cried the whole time."

"Breaking up is hard. Particularly when neither party is angry; it's just for the best."

"Was it though? Am I too unsophisticated to fit into his uppity world?"

"Would you have enjoyed going to the symphony Saturday?"

"I don't know."

"Larry."

"Okay. Probably not."

"You'd have to dress up. I'm sure you don't have a tux."

"I own a suit."

"When did you buy it?"

"College graduation."

"Right. The last time you wore it was ...?"

"I don't know. I think some relative's funeral several years back."

"You haven't been home in almost six years."

"Why bother?"

"That's a whole `nother phone call."

"What wrong with me, Freddy? Why couldn't he see us together?"

"So, the symphony is out. Would you enjoy lectures on poetry? Artists from Indonesia? Modern dance?"

I hated my best friend for being logical.

"I guess not."

"You'd be miserable. And so would he trying to make you enjoy it. And you said he wasn't wild about going to The Black Stallion. What else did you do?"

"A movie."

"That's safe, I guess."

"Actually, we had different tastes."

"See? As much as this hurts, imagine if you'd been seeing each other for several months. You'd be miserable and THEN your feelings would be deeper, and it would hurt much worse."

"He's so – so upper crust and I'm ... I'm ... garbage. I'm a garbageman to him."

 

Freddy

My best friend was low, and logic and common sense were not going to help. I supposed he just needed to talk it out.

"You're not garbage. You're talented and handsome and nice. You're a catch."

"You know what? What do garbage men do? Do they tell their dates that they are garbage men? Do they have to hide it? Whoa. I've never thought of that. If you were a garbage man, would you tell people?"

"Okay, you sound drunk. Do you have a drink in front of you?"

"Half of one."

I sighed. This was going to go nowhere.

"Larry." I hesitated, but then dove in. "I haven't met this guy, but overall, I think he did you a favor. The two of you seemed really attracted to each other, but he..."

"The sex was great. Man, I fucked him like mad last night. My dick felt like it exploded."

"Fine. Okay. I think he did you a favor in the long run. But in doing so, you're both hurting. I'm sure he is home right now..."

"In his rich home, while I'm in my poorhouse."

"Stop. He never said that. From what you've said, he really cared for you, and he is at home torn up too. You're not alone. The two of you are going through something together ... apart. If that makes sense."

"The world doesn't make sense. I'll just ... just be single forever. And that's fine. That's JUST fine."

"Someone will see you for who you are. I did. I loved you deeply."

"Yeah! That was twelve years ago, Freddy."

"I still do. I always will. I know you will find love again."

"Apparently not."

"Just sleep this off. Tomorrow, it will be a bit better. And the next day better. This is just one day."

"Fine. I'll try. Whatever." He paused. In a moment of clarity, he said, "I'm sorry. I haven't been good company. I'm sorry I've been a downer tonight."

"Understandable. Just sleep it off. You're a good man, Larry."

"Good night," he said.

I felt bad for my best friend. His situation made me feel fortunate to have found Joshua. I curled up to my husband and squeezed him tightly.

 

* * * *

 

Look for a blog post titled "Roman" at timothylane414stories.blogspot.com

Email: timothylane414@gmail.com