Date: Sun, 19 Mar 2017 19:37:57 +0000 (UTC)
From: jbalancier9@yahoo.com
Subject: Love me forever

Love Me Forever

By – Justin Balancier

Email jbalancier9@yahoo.com

                              Disclaimer

The short story "Please Love Me forever" is a gay erotic love story
centered around two middle aged men feeling right about each another. The
story is fiction.  Any resemblances to names, people, places and events are
purely coincidental.

				 Chapter 1

I spent time in Kentucky for several years before moving to Michigan.  I
always liked the home town feeling of Michigan.  I wasn't thrilled with
snow disrupting traffic every winter, but when you live near the great
lakes, one learns to deal with it.  It does become cold but still quite
beautiful.

The Lakeshore Apartments off Queen's Highway had been open for about a
year. I worked at a golf course, Country Club, off Queen's highway and
watched progress nearing completion on the apartments. The buildings took
on a country view and had enough land surrounding them to be somewhat
private. I really liked the location.

There were scores of single people and married couples living at
Lakeshore. It also had its share of seniors and gay people. I knew this
from listening to residents who came to play golf. Sometimes it pays to be
a good listener.

I was seriously taken with Lakeshore and wanted to live there. Everything
was new and one couldn't do much better finding an apartment.  There was
cable plus internet connection, fast downloads and W-Fi throughout. The
rents were (of course) on the steep side, but would not send me to the poor
house.  I decided to check it out.

It was slightly before noon on Thursday when I met with the rental agent to
look at the apartments.

The rental agent's name was Theodore Rupert, an overly friendly gentleman,
a bit on the stocky side, nicely dressed, somewhere in his sixties and
gay. There was no missing that. His speech was friendly, dramatic and
lady-like.  I imagine he was a royal pain off camera, high queens usually
are; but for now, at least, he was respectable and polite.

There was a name plate on a dark mahogany desk, void of papers and
sparkling clean. The plate was polished bronze with raised letters trimmed
in gold and read "Theodore Rupert" There was also a clear crystal bud vase
with a single pink sweetheart rose sitting next to a white desk phone.
"Nice touch." I thought to myself.

"Mr. Rupert?" – I asked, as I stood in the doorway.

"Come in – come in. Yes, do come in."  He replied sounding like Norma
Desmond, in Sunset Boulevard.

"I'm Nicholas Santory," I said to him, extending my hand. I spoke to you
earlier about looking at the apartments. I was dressed like I normally
do. I like jeans, western shirts and a black cowboy hat. It's a comfortable
look for me, so I do it.

"Yes indeed... You certainly are." Mr. Rupert said looking me over. "Just
let me just grab some forms and we'll go take a look-see. Is there a
Mrs. Santory or will you be renting alone?"

"Just me, There is no Mrs. - Is that a problem?" I asked

"Please call me Teddy. All my tenants do.  Oh dear me, of course there is
no problem; I just want to find something that suits you best."

"And what might that be?" I asked

"Someplace, I was thinking, close to the Community Centre and the pool. A
one bedroom apartment with a deck for sunbathing should be a good fit - but
no grilling on the deck. That's not permitted – fire codes, you know."

"Of course" I said.

"Yes, of course" He repeated.

The first apartment, I was shown, had a squeaky floor in the dining area,
so that was out. The next one wasn't much better. It had hardwood floors,
which seemed not tightly nailed, so they squeaked. The living room was
carpet, but that also squeaked as we walked across it.

Teddy then took me to another building close by.  I liked the apartments in
this building much better. "Now we were getting someplace," I told him and
he grinned seeming to agree.

I settled on an apartment with a large master bedroom with walk-in closet
and half bath. There were closets in every room, which was great for
storage. Off the hallway, there was a den that could be used for overnight
guest.  A compact kitchen with new appliances and glass cupboard doors that
sparkled in the sunlight. My favorite room was the full bath with a Jacuzzi
capable of holding two people with piping hot jets of water to calm sore
aching muscles. Sliding patio doors lead to a private balcony (which Teddy
called the deck) decorated with hanging plants facing the morning sun.  It
was perfect. It was not cheap – but it was perfect.

Teddy kept leaning into me as we walked from room to room. Once put his
hand on my shoulder.  It was obvious he wanted to touch me and did several
times, but I didn't mind, it was good for business.

"Oh, how I do love cowboys" Teddy said, brushing his hand across my hat.

"So do I."

"I'm sure." He replied

Teddy was no kid, but it wasn't his age that bothered me.  It was his
mannerism and dramatic stage voice that bothered me. He was up there in age
and delightful in a fruity way.  I would have liked him better if he cut
out the drama, but of course he didn't. I didn't much care one way or the
other.

I rented the apartment that I called perfect and signed a one year lease.
Teddy`s eyes were checking me out fixated on my jeans. I pretended not to
notice. Spending an hour or so with Teddy was a piece of work. He was fun
to be around but not the type I'd bring home to mother.

I am an average guy in my middle forties. I'll be 47 on my next
birthday. I'm a plain cowboy, with a hard body, but not a hunk. My cowboy
persona isn't from Warner Bros studio, it comes from the way I conduct
myself and dress.

I'm not a Hollywood character, but I do have below the belt charm nestled
between my legs and a walk that's infectious. I sort of do a Missouri strut
when I walk, but it's manly.

I work at a Country Club, golf course as an instructor, so western casual
is a bonus and folks on the green call me "Cowboy Nick." I like cowboy
jeans, boots and hat. I know it's corny but cute. It's the Stetson that
gives a man the look of a cowboy.

The ladies at the club's golf course would often tell me that. And I would
pretend being sexy was news to me. I couldn't appreciate it much coming
from women.  I liked it better when a man threw around those words, because
I'm gay.

I have close cropped hair with a hint of silver and a stubble beard that
makes me sensual, or maybe it's my butt that people are looking at. It
doesn't really matter.

I've had my share of boyfriends in the past, but nothing lasting.  I
usually get dumped in favor of a young slut.  Eventually even the young
dudes get tossed aside and the game starts over again. I hate all that
crap.  I hate the turmoil relationships bring and it happens so often,
especially among men lacking experience.  They're all nuts.

What I care about is sex.  I know that puts me in the slut category, but
I've spent a lot of years getting here. I`ll be reaching half a century, in
the not too distant future. The demand for a relationship is sparse at this
age.  There must be a "Mr. Right" some place out there. I won't lie. I
actually like being looked at. I don't plan on becoming a dirty old man,
but it may work out that way without having someone who really cares.

I moved into the apartment that afternoon. Besides bedroom furniture, I
brought mostly personal things and clothes along with me.  The other
belongings were coming on Monday. I expected new living room furniture and
anxious to get the sofa, so people would have a place to sit. Right now the
only place for company was on the bed. That's not such a terrible idea,
come to think of it. – It depends on the company.

I had just finished showering in my new bathroom, when a knock came to the
door.  It was Teddy.

I tossed on a pair of white shorts, but no underwear.  My dick lay nestled
in the fabric. It has a habit of moving around when I walk.  My bare chest
still had droplets of water, and tanned from being outside. I opened the
door.  And, "yes" – Teddy noticed my dick in the shorts.

"What brings you back so soon? "I asked

"How sweet" he replied, looking around speaking in his stage voice.

"What's sweet?"

"Everything drops of water my good man, just everything".  He replied.

 "Do you prefer Nicholas or Nick?" he asked me like he had something
important to say.

"Either –Nicholas is okay... My friends call me Nick."

"Then I shall call you Nick. Teddy said

"Fine – what's up Teddy?" I asked "You didn't come here just to see if I
preferred Nicholas or Nick."

Teddy hesitated for a moment staring at my crotch. I hoped it wasn't me he
wanted to talk about.  I noticed him looking and my dick started to move
just a little.  It wasn't on purpose and I was not attracted to him. It
just happens sometimes.

 "Oh my" He started to say...

"Get on with it Teddy." I have to get dressed."  I said

"Nick; the reason I'm here is to invite you to a luncheon on Saturday at
1:00 pm at the Community Centre next to the pool. It's for tenants to get
to know one another. We do this often and it's loads of fun. You don't have
to bring anything, lunch is provided. Just bring your hot bod, and some
kind words...A speedo would be awesome for the ladies, you know..." he said
winking and kidding around.

I imagined the ladies were Jim, Joe and Jerry, but I kept my mouth shut and
went along with his Norma Desmond performance.

"Gosh, I have to decline. I have to be here for a delivery. There is so
much to do and I need the weekend to get settled.

"Thanks, for the invite, but we'll see."  I said

"That's a shame, but I did my part – you're invited... then, okay Nicky,
you decide."  He blurted out heading towards the door.

"Try Nicholas or Nick"...I yelled after him as touched the door.

"Oh my yes – I mean Nick" Teddy replied rather uppity, closing the door
behind him.

"What a freakin drama queen."  I thought to myself,

The laundry room was in the basement of the building for the tenants to
use.  That evening, after a rather sparse bite to eat, I needed to do some
laundry.  The room was well equipped.  It has several washers and dryers
and everything was spotless.  No one was there and I had the place to
myself.

After the clothes went into the washer, I went back upstairs to
wait. Thirty minutes later, the washer turned off and I was back again to
use the dryer.

A man came into the laundry room and walked around but wasn't carrying any
laundry. I recognized him. He lived together across the hall from me. I
hadn't met him yet, but I recognized him.  He was about my age, maybe a
little younger.

"You're Nicholas" He said to me breaking the silence

"Yes - do I know you?" I asked... It was not all that unusual he knew my
name. People would often recognize me from working at the golf course.

I knew all along who he was but didn't let on. I knew his name was Peter. I
noticed him earlier in the rental office talking to Teddy.

I didn't say much, I let him do all the talking. I find out more from
strangers by just letting them talk. Often they brag or lie and sometimes
they hit on you, which is cool.

He was calm, leaning over a washer and talking to me. "I'm Pete Casey, your
neighbor from across the hall. I read your name off the mailbox."

What an awesome speaking voice he had. He spoke like a newscaster
intelligent and direct. Not flamboyant like Teddy but strong deep and
clear. He was sexy with a sexy voice. I thought he was coming on to
me. Then again, maybe he was just being friendly.  I was hoping he was gay.

"Are you married?" Peter asked

"Nope"

"Me neither" He replied

"You live with your girlfriend then? Your mailbox says Peter and Laura –
Yeah, I looked too" I admitted

"She's not a girlfriend. She's my sister. Where's your cowboy hat?" He
asked, changing the subject.

"Oh you mean the Stetson?  Yeah, that's my `get out of Dodge' hat."  I said
laughing a little.

"Well it's sexy. You wear it well." He said. "By the way, I'm Peter,
extending his hand. "Oh, I already said that, didn't I?"

"I'm Nick – Oh, you already know that." I said still holding his
hand. Peter had a strong handshake and was genuinely nice; my type for
sure.  It was awkward, we were both repeating ourselves. I felt like a
jerk.

The dryer shut off and Peter made no effort to leave the laundry room. He
leaned against a washer and watched me.  I started cramming the warm
clothes into a laundry bag when he spoke to me again.

"Hey, bro, ain't you gonna fold stuff?"

"They'll be okay." I said "I'm so disorganized right now – what's a few
wrinkles?"

"You will end up ironing things...Come on – I'll help you. I guess
cowboys aren't good handling domestic chores."  He said chuckling again.

"And you are?" I said "good at handling chores?"

"Oh yeah, domestic is my game." He replied

We folded towels, sheets, tee shirts and jockey shorts. There were a couple
of boxers in the mix also.

Peter held up the boxers and said - "What do you like best, the jockey or
the boxers"

"Probably the boxers, they are more comfortable." I replied

"Yeah, I would think so. You gotta give those balls breathing room."

I didn't react to the balls comment. I kept folding sheets, with a coy grin
on my face. Maybe he was interested in me after all, I had to find
out. Now, it started to matter.

"Can I buy you a beer?" Peter asked, "After all, we are neighbors."

"Naw Thanks - I'm not going out tonight, just going to crash.  Some other
time. I'll take you up on that" - I said

"I didn't mean go out. I was thinking about my apartment."

Without the slightest hesitation, I said – "You're gay, aren't you Pete?

"Am I that obvious? Have I made a mistake with you Nick?" He asked

"No, you haven't made a mistake" "Let me treat instead.  I have a six pack
of Heinekens on ice. Let's go to my apartment for a beer. I should warn you
tho; the living room sofa hasn't been delivered yet. We have to sit on the
bed, but it's suggesting nothing.

"A-huh, I never heard that one before – okay, show me your new
apartment. I'll bring the laundry." Peter remarked walking beside me.

The apartment was, of course, in dis-array and not settled. The bed was a
comfortable place to sit propped up with pillows. Actually, it was rather
nice.

We sat next to one another drinking beer and trying to find something
interesting to talk about.

"I like looking at you Nick. You have a nice build." Peter said

"Thanks, I get that a lot, especially from women. I like it better coming
from you."

Hell Nick, Compliments are the easy part. "Damn, you're cool as hell - can
I touch you?"

"Absolutely, awe, don't misunderstand me. I'm not in need of compliments" I
told Pete.

"I know."

"Thanks"

"But you are sexy" Peter said.  "Take for instant that zipper. I bet there
are plums in there just waiting to be picked.

It was arousing hearing Peter say that in his deep rich voice.  It
certainly got a rise out of me.  My cock is noticeable in my jeans when
soft. Now, there was no missing it. Pete kissed me and touched my leg.

It was one of those buddy kisses on the cheek. Not a big deal. My eyes were
partially closed, and I didn't know what would happen next.

Peter put his arm around my shoulder.  It was a gentle caress, a touch that
promised more. With each brush of his hand, the anxiety was building. I
knew what he wanted.  I had been down this road before, but it never felt
quite like this. Spasms racked my, thighs and my face flushed pink.  Every
muscle in my legs reacted to his hand's physical touch. My jeans were
swelling in the crotch and I knew pre cum would be seeping out.

Pete lay back on the bed, adjusting his pillow allowing his body to
relax. With his head moving ever so slowly, a look of relief took over his
intense face. He knew that I wanted him to touch me and that's exactly what
he did.

Lying next to Peter felt strange. But it wasn't strange for long.  Peter
pinned me to the pillow and began kissing me and our tongues locked
together. He unzipped his pants and pulled them off. He cock was long, hard
and I held it. He straddled my chest and brushed his meat across my lips. I
licked his cock before taking it into my mouth. His dick pulsated inside my
mouth and he gently face-fucked me for a few seconds. Shy he wasn't.

"I better slow down," he said "I don't want to scare you away. Listen Nick,
the last thing I want to happen is to push you into something you'll feel
guilty about later. Sometimes I am a wreck, by not acting on my thoughts,
but man, you are like a magnet pulling me. I have to have you, even if it's
only this one time. "Maybe I should have given that sermon before we
started, huh?"

I could barely answer. It was like hearing a speech.

"Peter continued. I want you to know me better Nick, that's all.  I want
you to take me." He said, in his stunning deep voice sounding a little
shaky. "Wanna try to fuck me" He asked

"Damn straight" I answered.

"I can take the pain of your big hog splitting me like a common
whore. Would you fuck me tomorrow?"  Peter asked.

Tomorrow!!! I thought to myself – "You dumb bastard, I want your butt
right now." but instead I said. "Okay, whatever."

"Tomorrow then, I'm going to get fucked." He said

"Oh, you think so, huh?"

"Yeah, I do." He answered "You want it."

I thought this was strange, but I was willing to play his mindless
game. Who knows, maybe he was a keeper.  Peter was a smooth operator, and
that part disturbed me. Not a lot, but it did disturb me a little.

The time wasn't wasted however. Peter got my clothes off and worked me into
frenzy with his mouth tasting my entire body. He gave me a blow job that
rocked. Jesus, it was great. He left me so wet and weak that I could barely
pull my jeans back on.

After tapping my number and email into his phone, Pete went back across the
hall and I was left alone.

"What the hell was all that about?" I thought to myself. Something wasn't
kosher.

Being alone in the apartment, I am hard once again.  With my hand embracing
my cock; I am transported to a magical place. I'm thinking of Peter and his
tight warm mouth.

In my solitude, with my eyes closed, my breathing builds and I find myself
pulsating in pleasure. A sensation that comes from my toes sends a shock of
release throughout my body.  The most wonderful feeling of being out of
control suddenly happens.  A gob of warm cum oozes over the head of my
cock, producing a mind-blowing hallmark of nutt juice.  My squirming crotch
is dotted with cum dripping onto my hand and marking my fingers which find
their way to my mouth.

Jesus Nick, I think to myself – "you're not fuckin right." taking a swig
of Budweiser I snap on the TV.

			      ***********************

Part 2 – The relationship become heated as Nick & Peter find one another.
Email appreciated with comments - – jbalancier9@yahoo.com