Hello friends.
Thanks for continuing to give Mitchell your time. With each chapter, he keeps
inching closer to You Know Who.
Currently he
is in the middle of his fifth session with Dr. Logan Hoorwood.
14
I reached for
the black book. It was time for the next entry.
"Number 14,
Martin Riggs."
"Wasn't that
your roommate?"
"Yes."
"Your ...
straight roommate?"
"Yes."
Logan's
expression went from confused to intrigued.
I opened the
book. "Martin Riggs. Three inches soft, five hard. Cut. No pre-cum. Thick.
Magnificent balls. Cum unsure."
"Cum unsure????"
"I don't know
what it was like. I swallowed."
"Ah. Alrighty
then."
"The other
words I wrote were mistake, drunk, sweet, and twice."
"I can see
where this is going."
"It was
probably three or four weeks after Kenneth ended it with me. I think Martin
felt a little sorry for me. I told him I was fine, but maybe I was coming off as lonely. I don't know."
"So, what
happened?"
"We went out
for drinks."
"Straight bar
or gay bar?"
"Straight. It
was a couple blocks away. We walked."
"I see."
"Good thing
too. Neither of us were in any condition to drive by the end of the night."
"Sorry,
fellas. I'm cutting you off. I'd like to call you a cab if you'll let me."
"No
worries," I slurred. "We aren't driving."
"You
should probably get some food in you."
"We
have stuff at the apartment," Martin told the bartender.
Martin
signed the tab. Even when I was drunk, I could tell his signature wasn't close
to being legible. I left the tip. It was big. We had been at Copper Pig for
almost three hours.
I
felt okay to walk. Sort of. Martin put his arm around
me to hold my shoulder. It stabilized me a little.
"How
are you in better shape? You had one more beer than me?" I asked.
Martin
belched. "I can hold my beer better than you. I was raised on it by my father."
"How
touchin'," I said.
"He
started handing me beers at 17. In college, I'd have a six pack on some
nights."
Martin
stumbled.
"Ha!
So there. Don't act like you're better than me."
We
both had our arms around each other. I liked feeling Martin's body. As a police
officer, it was very fit from his training. He had beautiful arms.
"We had
shared the apartment for a few months. It was funny. Martin was good looking.
Not stunningly handsome, but ... still good looking. When he had facial scruff,
it was sort of a turn on."
"And did he
that night?"
"Oh yeah. He
hadn't shaved in a few days. As I was drinking, I thought he looked good. He
got hotter with each beer I downed."
Logan
chuckled.
We
sat on the couch and kicked off our shoes.
"Do
you talk to Kenneth much?" I asked.
"We
don't see each other much since training ended, but ... occasionally, I guess."
"Is
he doing okay?"
"I
... have no way of knowing. I did see him with a girl one time."
I
sighed. "Oh well."
"He
liked you, Mitchell. He did. I ... I guess he's bi."
"He's
pretennin' to be." I sneered. "He's trying to
convince himself he can go straight."
"He's
just one guy."
"I
know. I just have shitty luck in finding someone. Guess it makes sense to figger I'm the pro'lem ... the
problem."
"I'm
sorry it hasn't worked out so far for you," Martin said. "You're really a nice
guy." He patted my shoulder.
"Nice
doezn't get you nanywhere."
"Oh
hell, man. You're good looking too." Martin rubbed the backs of his fingers
along my beard. "Any guy would be lucky to have you."
"Do
you mean that?"
"Sure."
My
hand reached up to gently touch his face stubble.
For
a moment, we didn't say anything. His eyes looked into my eyes. My eyes looked into his. He reached up to grip my neck. We inched
closer. My hand caressed his cheek. We moved closer. Our eyes were locked. Our
lips moved closer, but they didn't touch.
"Martin,"
I whispered.
My
mouth opened, and our lips were mere centimeters apart. The tips of our noses
touched. We looked deeply into each other's eyes. I wanted him. He wanted me. I
closed my eyes and went in for the kiss.
It
was sloppy.
It
was messy.
It
was wet.
I
needed it. I loved it.
"Fuck, Martin." I leaned back and pulled him on top of me. We made out. Our
hands roamed as our lips stayed pressed together. We maneuvered on the couch to
where he was lying on top of me. I pushed his butt into my body. Our crotches
were grinding.
Hard.
Grinding.
Hard.
I
pulled his polo shirt over his head.
"Fuck,
you're so hot," I breathed.
My
fingers explored his chest hair. I squeezed it between my fingers, causing
Martin to groan.
To
my surprise. He stood. He grabbed my wrist and pulled me up off the couch. He
pulled me toward his room. He let go of me to unfasten
his pants. He stumbled but managed to get them off.
I
tried to get out of mine, but I fell over trying to take them off. I laughed
hysterically.
"Get
up here, man," Martin instructed, patting the bed.
He
was naked on top of the sheets. His cock was hard and jutting toward the
ceiling.
"We were
talking about Kenneth, and Martin was telling me how I'd find someone because I
was nice and good looking. We were drunk, and the moment got away from us."
"But you
remember it."
"I do. I
can't honestly say it's completely accurate, but ... I remember us going after
it."
"Nice
cock, dude," I said.
"Thanks.
I'm horny."
"I
can tell." I belched. Then I attempted to let my boxers fall to the floor. They
were tented outward. I stretched them hard to get them over my erection.
"Well,
look how big you are."
"You're
thicker."
"But
you've got an inch on me — at least."
"Take
it," I said, jumping on my knees next to him.
He
reached for my cock and groped it. "Yeah," we both said.
I
leaned to feel his hard-on. It felt meaty and thick. I liked everything about
it. My hand massaged the firm flesh.
"Jerk
it," he said.
I
began stroking his cock. He groaned. The feeling of the veins and ridges in his
rigid skin was heaven. He still had a grip on my own rod. He squeezed it
tighter but didn't move.
I
leaned over to put my mouth on his again. He removed his hand from my cock to
grip both sides of my face, keeping it in place. My hand continued to stroke
his stiff organ.
He
moaned as we kissed.
"You're
hot, Mitchell."
I
knew he was drunk, and the smell of alcohol on his breath and skin confirmed
it, but we didn't care. We were just fired up.
He
broke our kiss. "Will you suck me?"
"Can't
wait," I said.
I
moved down to his crotch. I rubbed my nose in his bush and then smelled his
cock and his balls. I inhaled and exhaled, taking in the masculine musk of his
groin.
"Please,
Mitchell."
I
spit on his cock and then slid down the shaft. My mouth consumed it. My face
consumed it. My lust consumed it.
"OH!
Fuck YEAH!"
I
moaned. The hum reverberated through his skin into his throbbing beam.
Martin
snarled and howled as I continued to suck him. Our apartment had never had this
type of sexual volume from either of us — at least when we were both home at
the same time. I had heard him have sex once with a woman, barely, but I knew
they were involved in it. Kenenth and I had been respectively quiet. Martin was
a beast in this moment with me. I was checking all the
boxes.
Except
for a vagina.
I
flopped down next to him, lying on my belly.
"I
want you to rub your cock on my back. Rub it through my crack."
"I
don't want to fuck," he said.
"I'm
not ashking you to. Just rub
it on me."
Hesitantly,
Martin straddled my body. He rubbed his hard dick up my back and then back
down.
"Like
this?"
"I
like it."
"Yeah."
He rubbed his hard sausage firmly into my back.
Getting
on stiff arms, he lifted his body and moved his cock down to my ass. It slid up
and down my crack, but he made no effort to penetrate it. It just moved up and
down through the crevice. He groaned. I wanted him to come on my back. I wanted
to feel it cover me.
He
changed that.
Forcefully,
he rolled me over.
"I
gotta have you suck it. Suck it some more. I need it."
He
moved his body up to my face. He grabbed the headboard of his bed and thrust
his cock into my mouth. I struggled not to gag.
"Fuck
yeah, Mitchell."
He
kept thrusting, but after a minute, he leaned back, holding on with one arm.
The other reached for my dick and he groped it.
"Feels
good, man."
"Mm-hm,"
I grunted into his flesh.
I
loved sucking him. I loved being felt by him — this scruffy, straight cop.
After
groping me for a minute, he let his body lean upward again. Both hands gripped
the headboard, and he began fucking my throat in earnest. I had never heard a
man so loud in sexual pleasure. Martin growled and moaned and screamed and
barked and ... he was amazing. Or did I just think that because I was drunk?
"Holy
fuck, Mitchell."
I
groaned into his cock. I then reached for mine. I jerked my meat as I sucked on
his.
"Fuck
almighty, Mitchell."
I
attacked my cock. My strokes were relentless.
"Jesus!
This feels so fucking good, man."
My
tongue tangoed with his cock, stimulating it in every way I knew how.
"Keep
doing that! Keep doing that! Ohhhhh, man. OHHHHHHHHHHH! FUCK YES!"
Martin
screamed so loud, I wondered if our neighboring
apartments were questioning if he was being murdered. I felt the first blast of
cum hit my throat, and I tried not to gag. I tried my hardest to accept the
liquid, even though it was hard to swallow with my mouth filled with dick. More
came. And more. Martin's thick cock kept unloading. He was apparently due for a
good release.
When
the liquid stopped, the volume began to subside but not quickly. It was still a
loud moan, followed by loud gasping. Loud breathing. Loud sighing.
My
hand held his butt to keep him from removing his penis from my mouth. I
continued to tantalize it.
A
minute later, his dick had retreated, and he moved it back. My hand was
pounding my cock.
"Martin,
move back. Stick your butt on top of my dick."
"You're
not going to fuck me, are you?"
"No!
Just do it."
He
put his butt near my waist, and I positioned the head of my erection right at
his crack. The mushroom shape nuzzled inside just the tiniest bit.
Then
I screamed. And screamed. And screamed.
"Ooooooo,"
he said, as he felt my cum hit his pucker.
I
continued crying out for several more seconds. Then I panted
for oxygen.
Curiously,
he didn't move away. He let the cum and the pressure of my cock just keep his
ass company.
"I
actually found that hot."
"I
foun' you hot," I said.
He
leaned down to kiss me. I grabbed his neck and shoved us together ... hard. We
kissed for a solid minute.
Then
he crawled off the bed. He reached for a sock to wipe his ass.
"Let's
do bet'r than that," I said.
I
came back with a wet cloth.
We
turned off the lights and crawled into his bed together.
"We did a few
things, but no heavy lifting, so to speak. We were just so horny. Lots of
kissing. For a straight guy, he got into it."
"Then what?"
"He woke up
in my arms. We slept together. Naked."
"Did that
change things for the two of you?"
"Yes. A
little. For a while. I'm not sure exactly."
"You don't
know?"
"That morning
after, he rustled around as he woke. I heard him groan as his hangover took
hold. But I still had my arm around him."
"Who said
something first?"
"I did. I
said, `good morning.' He groaned in pain again. He put his hands on his
forehead."
"What did he
eventually say?"
"Well, I
asked him a question. I asked him what he remembered. He said, `everything.' I
told him I did too. `We got carried away,' I said. He agreed. Neither of us
knew if we needed to apologize or talk about it or ... what."
"Did you
ever?"
"Yeah. I
gathered my clothes and took them to my room. We both showered. He didn't go in
until the evening, but I think he felt ... grimy with alcohol and sex and sweat.
I had to go to work though. I had a serious hangover, and, frankly, I wasn't my
best at work."
"Keep going."
"Before I
left, we both sat at the kitchen table. We didn't know what to say."
"About
last night," Martin started. "Let's just keep that between us."
"Not
a problem." I looked at him with a slight smile. "It was a bit impulsive."
"It's
not my first time to do stupid things when I'm drunk."
"You've
been in bed with a man before?"
"No.
Not men. But ... lots of mistakes. I sometimes worry that I'll find out I'm a
father someday when I'm fifty."
I
chuckled.
"If
it means anything to you, I thought you were great. It was crazy — the two of
us — but I really enjoyed it," I said.
"I'd
be lying if I said I didn't. You were pretty hot,
Mitchell. It's not my thing ... but, handsome face, great body, great dick. I
don't really regret it. Yes, it was a mistake. But I don't hate that it
happened."
"I
promise not to show up on your doorstep in fifteen years and tell you we have a
son."
He
laughed hard and then held his head. "Ow."
"We talked it
out for a few minutes. He was okay with it. We both knew it was a crazy
mistake, but he admitted that he enjoyed it. I don't think he was saying that
just to make me feel good."
"This was
your first time with a straight man. What did you feel? How did you feel about
it?"
"I'm not
sure. I can't say it was that different. A man is a man. I guess I was
surprised that it actually happened, that Martin
actually went through with it."
"Alcohol and
enflamed hormones are a volatile cocktail. My other patients make that clear to
me."
"I didn't
have any grand desire after that to go after straight guys. I could have
explored the apps to see if there were any curious ones out there, but
that wasn't me. I was still hoping to find `The One' someday. That ruled
straight guys out."
"I'm glad
true love was a goal."
"It wasn't
always. After Cruz and you, I sort of stopped trying for a while. Arlo awakened
something in me — sparks — but nothing was really happening in the `just sex'
experiences. Calvin and Kenneth had potential, but they broke it off."
"Earlier, you
said, `twice.'"
"Yeah. The
week following our sex romp, Martin was really sweet.
He didn't say much, but his body language and an occasional
touch was very caring. I mean, he was a cop, so I always thought of him as a
tough guy. Nothing was sexual ... or even affectionate,
actually. There was just a sensitive, caring side to him I hadn't seen
before. A hand on my shoulder here, a smile there. It was like we shared
something new. He didn't talk about that night. It was just like we
shared something ... something secret and special. I found it sweet."
"Nice. But ...
twice?"
"Oh yeah. We
went drinking a week later, maybe two. Again. Drunk. Same place. We were
totally shitfaced. More than the last time, which was pretty
dang drunk."
"Did you
initiate it or him?"
"Jeez, it was
so long ago, and I was so smashed. I'm not sure. I don't remember it that well.
Fragments really. I just remember us getting home just after 2. We closed the
place down. I remember taking a leak and then I remember us just ... making out,
standing in the middle of the living room. Kissing involved tongues and a lot
of slobbering on our cheeks and necks. I can't be sure, but he grabbed my dick
from the outside of my jeans to see if I was hard. I was kissing a scruffy cop,
so ... yeah."
I noticed
Logan rearranged his crotch.
"He kept
rubbing my cock. It made me reach for his. We groaned
a little in our kisses and then ..."
"Then?"
I tried hard
to remember that night, but it was not one I committed to detailed memory. I'm
sure the massive amount of liquor that night caused that.
"I don't
remember everything. He wanted me to suck him. I remember that. Then he ... he
wanted to suck me. That was new. Yeah. Now, I remember, we 69'd a while. He was
naked and all muscle."
"Hot," Logan said beneath his breath. His
slacks were noticeably tented. He scribbled something on a pad. It had to be
erotic details and not counseling advice.
"It didn't
really end well."
"Uh-oh."
"I had sort
of ..." I paused. "Do you want to hear this?"
"Yes!" He
lowered his voice. "Yes. If you wish to share."
"The first
night, when I climaxed, I shot my cum in the crack of
his ass. No penetration. We didn't do that the first night."
"The first
night."
"Right. But
he felt it ... there ... in his ass cheeks. He said he wanted to do that to me. I
was drunk, and it sounded amazingly hot. Super hot. I
was incredibly horny. He rubbed his dick up and down my ass crack. When he got
close, he lined his cock up with my hole. I was ready to feel his cum coat the
crevice of my ass. Then he pushed the head in. I jolted. He went all the way
inside. All of him. I was wrenching in pain when he
came inside me. It hurt."
"Yikes."
"He didn't
mean to hurt me. He didn't know anything. After he came, he smothered me. His whole body weight was on me. He kept his cock inside me. I
got used to it. I rolled him over, and it was hard enough to go back inside me.
I rode it for a minute, but then his penis didn't cooperate. I just straddled
his chest. As I was getting close to my own orgasm, I could tell the moment had
passed for him. His body language was distant. I started to groan in my climax.
He turned his head and closed his eyes. He didn't want to see me come."
"I'm sure
that disappointed you."
"It did. We
said nothing at all. I went to get a cloth and wiped him off. I told him I
would head to my own room. There was no request to stay."
My face
twisted into an uncomfortable expression of sorrow.
"The next day
was a Sunday. We slept in. Late. Very late. When he got up, he went out to eat.
We didn't do anything that day together. He came home in the evening, and we
didn't really say much of anything. That went on for a couple of days.
Eventually, that sweetness left him. For several weeks, at least. We would make
simple conversation, but we never, ever mentioned either night ever again. He
started bringing women home. I sometimes wondered if he did it just to prove to
me — and himself — that he was completely straight."
"And how long
did you share an apartment?"
"Overall, it
was about two years. At that point, it was about a year and a few months more."
"Was it
awkward?"
"In the
beginning. Then we were normal roommates. But he never touched me again. He
became serious with a girl, a woman, and they wanted to move in together."
"Did you stay
in touch?"
"Not really.
No."
It was a
shame too. Kenneth was out of my life. Martin was. I hated that people that I
had shared something with, moments of intimacy were just ... gone. But I guessed
that was normal. I wondered how many people still saw lovers they slept with in
the past. Probably not many. Did either of them ever think of me?
Or Calvin? Or
Marq?
"If you could
sit down with Martin right now, what would you like to say to him?"
"What do you
mean?"
"If he was in
that chair over there, is there anything unresolved you'd like to ask him?"
I thought
about it. It was something I never would have asked myself. I rarely even
thought of Martin.
"Maybe."
"What would
you ask?"
"I don't know
how I would phrase it. I kind of would like to know if our ... nights ... meant
something to him. Was it totally meaningless? Was there a bond we shared, even
for just a moment? Did he like it?" I looked at Logan. "Do you think he did?"
"I've never
met him, so I have no idea. I don't think it would do any good for me to
speculate."
"Speculate."
"Again, this
is just a guess. He seemed to like it the first time. It was enjoyable. The
second time, it might have made him afraid."
"Afraid? Of
me?"
"Of himself.
Straight men don't like thinking about men intimately. You guys shared
something. You thought it was special. Deep down, he may have too — and it
scared him."
"Really?"
"Again.
That's just a guess. I've never met him."
"Do you have
other gay patients who have slept with straight men?"
"I don't
discuss other patients."
I grunted.
"Whatever."
I did enjoy
my nights of intimacy with Martin. I didn't remember them well, but I did like
feeling connected to him on a higher level.
"Once we went
our separate ways, we didn't ever see each other again. However, I happened to
see him in a patrol car a couple of times. Part of me wanted to pull up next to
him and say hi. Then I figured he would freak out and think, `Oh, that's the
guy I stuck my dick in.' I never did."
"Do you feel
a lack of closure?"
"No. It's
closed. It just would be nice to know if he looks back on it as a good memory.
But it was a mistake — we both know that. But I hope it was an enjoyable
mistake for him. I guess I'll never know."
* * * *
Look for a
post, "Straight," on the blog: timothylane414storieis.blogspot.com
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