Date: Sat, 28 Oct 2023 14:53:30 +0000 (UTC)
From: Samuel Stefanik <churchphilips@yahoo.com>
Subject: Wasted Life.  Chapter 16

Dear reader, this chapter contains the first sex scene of the story.  Let's
see who its between and how it goes.  Any guesses?

I hope you like the chapter.  Drop me a line if you want.  I'd be pleased
to hear from you!

NOTE: Check out my other stories in the Sci-fi / Fantasy Section
Crown Vic to a Parallel World
From Whence I Came
Stolen Love

Disclaimer:

If you're younger than 18 or find these kinds of stories offensive, please
close up now and have a great day!  If you are of legal age and are
interested, by all means keep going.  I'll be glad to have you along for
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stories and a useful outlet to authors like me and readers like you.


Wasted Life
a Law Edwards Mystery by Sam Stefanik

16
Walt

I woke up too early and laid in the quiet darkness to contemplate my life.
I thought about the way I'd lived for a while, and about the yawning
nothingness that stretched ahead of me.  I thought of Walt.  I felt
terrible about the way I'd treated him the night before, the way I'd
treated him for a long time.

Walt was a wonderful man.  He always had been.  He was too good for me, and
I was no good for him.  Everyone seemed to know that but him.  I sure knew
it.  If anything, the exchange last night had proved it.

Still, losing the office, the apartment, and my livelihood didn't bother me
half as much as losing Walt.  The mental image I had of him as he slipped
through the door, when he was angry and hurt and afraid, tortured me when I
was already tortured.  Having to watch the only person who gave a damn if I
lived or died walk out of my office, and likely out of my life entirely,
and knowing that I was the cause of his leaving, was difficult to deal
with.  I brooded over it.

* * * *

I met Walt near the end of 1936.  I'd been off the police force for about a
year and in business for myself.  Walt was the overnight man at a counter
service eatery up north, near the middle-class area of Passyunk Square.
I'd been up that way on a case for a few weeks and stumbled into the place.
The food was cheap, portions were large, and the flavor was incredible.
The attractive guy behind the counter, whose name turned out to be Walt
Whitman Stack, was a nice bonus.  Soon, I was eating all my meals there.

Walt's shift was ten at night to eight in the morning, but he worked the
place alone from eleven to six.  The very first night, I raved about the
food.  In order to explain the culinary masterpiece I'd experienced, Walt
told me where he'd learned to cook.  He told me he'd gone to college for
culinary arts.  He also told me that he'd worked at the legendary
Bellevue-Stratford Hotel from 1927 until 1930 when the Depression forced a
dramatic cutback in staff.  Since then, he'd bounced around, taking
whatever job he could as long as he could cook and experiment.  He said
that's how he kept his skills sharp for when, in his words, `everything
gets back to normal.'

Since I was usually in the diner between eleven and twelve and again
between five and six, and since the place was usually empty at those hours,
Walt and I struck up a conversational acquaintance.  I'd tell him about the
progress, or lack of progress I was making on my case.  He would tell me
stories of growing up in the rural Pennsylvania community of Scranton, or
about his father, the literature professor, or about a new dish he was
perfecting.

I was attracted to Walt.  I enjoyed his food and his company, and I thought
there was a chance that we were the same.  The deliciousness of Walt's food
made me hesitate to announce myself.  I didn't want to risk alienating him
over my sexuality and losing access to his cooking.

I deferred my decision indefinitely and it was eventually rendered moot.
The case I'd been working on ended, so I had no more reason to hang around
the little diner.  The place was too far from my office for me to be a
regular, so I figured that was the end of that.  I went home and stayed
away for two weeks.  I tried to forget Walt and the little diner, but I
couldn't get the man or his food out of my mind.  One sleepless night, I
took the trolley up Broad Street and walked the six blocks to the diner.

Walt was glad to see me.  He fussed over me and cooked what he called his
`special meatloaf' to celebrate my presence.  The meal instantly became my
new favorite.  Walt was so solicitous about where I'd been, what I'd been
doing; I thought he had to be like me.

My curiosity got the better of my judgement and I tried to ask without
asking.  "Do you have anything in common with your namesake?"  I asked Walt
as I finished my meal.  By then, I'd looked up Walt Whitman the poet, and
discovered that he was famously, or perhaps infamously, a homosexual.

Walt hesitated, then hedged his answer.  "I'm not a poet, if that's what
you mean."

I pressed my question and added some detail that I hoped would get Walt to
answer me more directly.  "Neither am I, but I have something in common
with Whitman, and I wonder if you might."

Walt considered his answer while he rubbed a damp rag around the counter
like it was the most important thing he would do that night.  He tried to
clarify what I'd asked him without giving it a name.  "I think you're
asking if I have similar tastes.  Is that the question?"

I agreed with Walt's presumption.  "More or less."

He stopped wiping the counter and searched my face with his pale blue eyes.
Whatever he saw must have satisfied him.  "Yes."  He announced confidently.
"The poet and I have similar tastes."

Walt's answer didn't make me turn a cartwheel, but I was encouraged.
"That's good.  Now the three of us have something in common."

Walt threw his rag into a sink behind the counter and leaned on his elbows
with a fist pressed to each side of his face.  He asked his own searching
question.  "What are you looking for Law Edwards?  Do you want to have fun
or are you ready for commitment?  I like sex, but I'm not looking for a
lover.  I want a partner.  What do you want?"

Walt's question set me back on my heels.  In my deepest self, I always
hoped that I'd find someone to live with, someone to come home to, someone
with who I could be as much a partner as queer men were allowed to be.  I
didn't think I had the capacity to live that way, though.  Between my job
and my violent nature, I didn't think I'd ever have much more than a fairly
steady bedmate.  Because of that, I lied to Walt, and I lied a little bit
to myself.  "I don't want a partner."  I said to him.

"It sounds like we want different things."  Walt sighed like he was
disappointed.  He straightened up and turned his palms toward the ceiling
in a gesture that I took to be a kind of a shrug.  "But don't let that stop
you from coming around.  I like you and having something in common means we
understand each other better."

I liked that Walt said that he liked me.  It made me feel good inside.
Because he said he liked me, and because I was attracted to him, after that
night, I made it a point to make the trek to the diner at least once a
week.  I never bothered with a menu when I went.  I ate whatever Walt put
in front of me and was never disappointed.  He enjoyed cooking something
special, and I enjoyed spending time with him.

That pattern went on until the summer of 1937, when Walt landed a job in a
big cafeteria at the Navy Yard.  It was day shift and more money, but he
needed to move further south to be closer to work.  "You know the area.
Where can I get a place?"  He asked one night while I was savoring his
special pork chops.  "I'd prefer an apartment but may need to take a room
for a while until I find something that's right."

I heard opportunity knock.  Actually, it might have kicked the door in.  I
told Walt of a coincidence that was in my favor and his.  "My landlord just
evicted the second-floor tenant of my building.  The guy had hard feelings
and smashed the place up.  Bad for the landlord, but good for the next
tenant.  Now it's got all new paint, gas range, cabinets, everything.  I
looked at it a couple days ago out of curiosity.  He's not asking much rent
because the neighborhood is crappy.  I think forty a month."

Walt was enthusiastic about the possibility.  "That's less than I'm paying
now.  Can you get me in to see it in the morning?  I'll come when I finish
here."

I gave him the address.  He looked at the place in the morning and moved in
the following week.

* * * *

Soon, Walt and I got used to seeing each other regularly.  Sometimes he
would stop to chat on his way home from work or to ask me if I needed
anything when he went shopping.  In the beginning of 1938, he invited me
upstairs to Sunday dinner.  I gladly accepted.  I'd never learned to cook
and ate all my meals at counters, at the automat, or from street vendors.
The only home cooking I'd had since my mother's was Walt's.

A few weeks later, he invited me again, and then again.  Soon, Sunday
dinner with Walt was a standing appointment instead of an occasional
invitation.  Over the next months, `every Sunday' evolved to `every day.'
I ate at Walt's so often, I started to feel like a freeloader.  To soothe
my troubled conscience and to return some of Walt's kindness, I made it my
habit to do the dishes each night after we ate.  I also gave Walt money for
groceries when I was flush, and he fed me for free when I was broke.

The more time he and I spent together, the more time we wanted to spend
together.  I started to linger after meals to talk, or to play cards, or to
listen to radio programs.  One night, near the end of that year, Walt
invited me into his bed.  That night I found out that Walt was an
enthusiastic lover who knew when to be aggressive and when to be tender.

Our relationship accelerated after we slept together and by early January
of 1939, I lived at his place in every way but on paper.  That time with
Walt was my first domestic experience.  It was the first time in my life I
had someone to come home to, someone to share my day with, someone to kiss
`goodbye' in the morning and `hello' in the evening.  It was the first time
I had someone to sleep next to that wasn't a conquest.  It was a good life,
a peaceful life.

In April, I fucked up the first time.  The event that led to my fuck up was
supposed to be a celebration.  On the second Tuesday of the month, I came
home, which is how I'd started to refer to Walt's apartment, to find him
making my favorite meal.  Walt's special meatloaf was in the oven, roasting
along with russet potatoes and a crockery dish of glazed carrots.  A bottle
of very nice bourbon stood on the counter next to a fresh seltzer syphon.
The table was set with a flower arrangement centerpiece and red candles in
tall holders.  Walt kissed me `hello' and I noticed he smelled shower
fresh.

"What's the occasion?"  I asked.

"Welcome home."  He said and ignored my question.  "Dinner will be ready in
forty minutes.  Why don't you get a shower?  Wash off the grime of the day
and unwind."

I realized that Walt was seducing me.  I didn't understand that because all
it usually took to get me in the mood was a chin jerk toward the bedroom.
I didn't dwell on my confusion because there was no downside to what I
assumed Walt was building toward.  I congratulated myself on what I figured
would be a nice evening.  `Nice dinner, few drinks, maybe a marathon
tumble...happy Tuesday to me.' I thought and went to get cleaned up.

When I was showered, dressed, and back in the kitchen, the seduction
continued.  Walt greeted my return with another kiss, then he gave me a
highball to enjoy while he set the food out.  His every motion was for my
pleasure.  He was ahead of my every desire.  As we ate, he passed sides
before I asked and refreshed my drink before it was empty.  He'd outdone
himself on the meal and in every other way.  Every bite was perfection.  I
wanted to stuff myself silly, but I anticipated `fun and games' later, so I
used some rare self-control.  I finished and pushed my plate away.

"Was it alright?"  Walt asked like he didn't already know it was the best
meal I'd ever had.

"Amazing."  I admitted.  "You going to tell me what's going on?"

Instead of an answer, Walt did something incredibly sexy.  He took a cigar
from his shirt pocket and gazed into my eyes while he teased it with his
thick tongue.  He trimmed the end with his teeth and smoothed the bite with
his lips.  He shaped the cigar tip and moistened it with his mouth to
mellow the smoke.  When he finished teasing me around the cigar, he met my
eyes again while he lit it with a table lighter.  He carefully roasted the
end and drew on it to establish the ember.  He passed the burning cigar to
me across the table.

I tasted the smoke and realized the cigar wasn't one of my regular brand.
It was a luxury brand I only smoked when I was very flush with cash.  I
drew on it and enjoyed the rich flavor of fine tobacco.  I smoked and felt
like a king.  I'd had a fine meal, excellent whiskey, a good cigar, and had
a handsome man to fuss over me.

Walt stood from the table and made a suggestion.  "Why not put something on
the radio and enjoy your cigar?  I'll clean up and join you."

I moved to the living room and turned on the console radio.  I found an
orchestra variety show and sank into the Chesterfield sofa to listen.
Sounds of clinking dishes and tinkling silverware floated from the kitchen
and harmonized with the music of Glenn Miller, Benny Goodman, Duke
Ellington, and others.  When Walt finished with the dishes, he came to join
me.

I had my eyes closed, so I felt more than I heard him approach.  Walt's
steps were silenced by the non-slip soft-soled shoes he wore for work.  He
sat on my left, draped his heavy right arm over my shoulders and pulled me
into his big, warm body.

"Are you happy?"  He asked me.

I squirmed to fit against him better and sighed in contentment.  "Very."

I smoked my cigar and rested against Walt's solid body until I'd smoked the
whole thing through.  Walt shared a bit of the cigar.  He tasted the smoke
about every third time I drew on it.  He wasn't a habitual smoker, but he
liked the smell of good tobacco when I enjoyed it.  He would occasionally
sample whatever I was smoking.

When I'd smoked my cigar down to the band, Walt took the butt from me and
rubbed it out in an ashtray.  Just as he did, the voice of Virginia Bruce
started on the radio.  She was crooning Cole Porter's hit love song `I've
Got You Under My Skin.'  The mellow notes wafted from the loudspeaker.

"Would you dance with me?"  Walt whispered.

I tried to refuse.  "I don't dance."

"Please."  He asked sweetly.

I couldn't refuse to dance with Walt after the evening he'd treated me to.
I stood from the Chesterfield and offered my arms to him.  He held me close
and guided us in slow turns around the small living room.  His athletic
grace smoothed my uncoordinated movement and made me feel like Ginger
Rogers to his Fred Astaire.  That dance made me regret never dancing
before.  The tune finished and he kissed me in the short silence at the end
of the song.

"Are you ready for bed?"  He breathed over my face.

I nodded, then I shook my head.  I remembered it was my turn to bottom.
Since Walt and I were evenly matched in body type, and since neither of us
was an exclusive top or bottom, we'd decided to take turns to keep things
fair.  I reminded Walt and told him I'd need a few minutes to get ready.

"No need."  Walt whispered.  "I'm taking your turn.  I want to.  I'm ready
for you."

I wasn't about to argue with Walt if he wanted to bottom for me.  "In that
case, I'm more than ready for bed."  I said with growing enthusiasm.

Walt chuckled a deep, rumbling laugh from inside his chest.  Walt liked
when I was eager.  He always said that the energy I had when I was excited
made for better sex.  He and I walked hand-in-hand to the bedroom.

Once inside, Walt pulled the cover from the bed to reveal he'd already
added an extra sheet to protect the regular bedclothes from our fun.  With
that, I finally realized the level of foresight and planning Walt had put
into the evening.  That realization was made double when Walt opened the
nightstand to produce a brand-new can of Mrs. Tucker's Vegetable
Shortening, our favorite lubricant.

Walt had seen to every detail from the greeting he gave me when I came
home, all the way to the preparation for my favorite nighttime activity.  I
felt fresh wonder over why he was treating me so well.  "Are you ever going
to tell me what the occasion is?"  I asked.

"After."  Walt said as he moved against me and started to unbutton my
shirt.

I watched Walt's thick, but nimble fingers unfasten one button after the
other.  "I can do that for myself."  I suggested.

Walt paused to tug at the button in the middle of my chest.  He raised his
eyes to mine and spoke soft words over my face.  "Let me have my fun."

I gave into what Walt wanted, and he undressed us both.  He removed my
shirt, then his shirt, my undershirt, then his undershirt.  Walt sensuously
peeled the layers away until there was nothing left.  When we were naked,
we stood face to face to admire each other.

I loved how manly Walt was.  Tall and broad, a deep-chested strapping man,
I lusted after his solid strength.  His skin was darker than mine, a
natural dusky tone like Valentino had.  Walt was hairier than me.  His
chest and stomach, his forearms and legs, his crotch, even his lower back
and ass were coated with a thick mat of straight, dark brown hair.

He stepped into me and wrapped me in his powerful arms.  He crushed me
against his body and kissed me with his searching tongue.  I enjoyed the
possessive hug and the taste of Walt's mouth.  I wondered at the force of
his embrace.  Walt's actions made me feel like he wanted to control our
encounter.  I decided to exert some of my own dominance.  I reached behind
Walt and filled my hands with his meaty ass.  I squeezed the cheeks and
pulled him open to remind him of what he promised me.

Walt leaned his face away from mine and separated from our kiss.  "You in a
hurry?"  He asked.

"No, I'm just reminding you that this belongs to me tonight."

Walt kissed me with just his lips and responded to my reminder.  "All of me
belongs to you tonight."

I took Walt's statement as permission to lead the session.  I craned my
head forward and tilted it to kiss and lick the side of Walt's thick neck.
He gasped and trembled from my ministrations.  While I kissed and sucked at
his skin, I slid my fingers into his ass.  I used the pad of my middle
finger to rub circles around the tender flesh of his hole.

Walt signaled his approval of my actions.  "Oh, fu-uck."  He breathed as
his body shook against mine.

I licked up the side of Walt's throat and under his jaw.  I followed his
jawline toward the back of his head until my face brushed against his ear.
I nibbled his earlobe and licked the shell of his ear.  "How do you want
it?"  I whispered into the ear I was teasing.

"Ooooooooooooonnnnn my baaaaaack."  Walt groaned.  "I want to watch you
fuck me."

I had mixed feelings about topping Walt in the missionary position.  Part
of me enjoyed it because that position let me watch Walt as he took
pleasure from receiving my sex.  He was an incredibly sensitive bottom and
he loved getting fucked.  He was the only man I'd ever been with who could
climax just from being penetrated.  I loved fucking an orgasm out of him.
When I managed to time my own climax to occur with his, I felt like a
master of sex.

The downside of fucking Walt like that was it put my body on full display.
I was in decent shape, almost as good as Walt in spite of my sedentary
habits, but I hated to show him my scars.  Walt had seen them countless
times.  He'd always said they didn't bother him, but I didn't understand
how that could be so.  I decided not to brood over it in that moment.  I
had a sexy man in my arms who'd asked me to fuck him.  Giving Walt what he
wanted became my first priority.

"Lay on the bed."  I instructed Walt as I stepped out of our embrace.

Walt didn't do as I ordered.  He dropped to his knees and seized my hard
manhood with his right hand.  Without a word, he peeled my foreskin back
and took the head of my cock in his mouth.  He licked and nursed at the
sensitive tip, sending waves of pleasure through my body.  Walt worked on
my cock, taking more and more of it into his mouth.  While he sucked me, he
used his left hand to gathered my balls and tug them away from my body.
Walt pulled them down until he could cradle both in his palm.  He squeezed,
the way he knew I liked, until I cried out from the exquisite pleasure-pain
that flared in my guts.

Walt released my balls and my cock at the same time and rocked back to sit
on his heels.  He looked up at me with a smirk of cautious pride on his
face.  He knew that I liked what he did for me.  His caution was because I
hadn't asked for it.  I decided to reinforce the initiative he'd taken.  I
leaned down, gripped his arms and heaved him to his feet.  Once Walt was
standing, I kissed him with all the passion I had while my hands explored
his furry torso.

His body hair tickled my palms as my hands moved up his belly to his chest.
My fingers sought and found Walt's hard, dark nipples.  I gripped them the
way I knew he liked and gave them a sharp tug.  Walt broke our kiss and
cried out with a mix of surprise and pain laced pleasure.  "Oh,
you...you..." his flushed face gasped into mine, his voice unable to
complete its thought.

I held onto the nubs and rolled them between my fingers.  I tugged more
gently.  "Oh, fuck."  Walt breathed as I teased his nipples.

"Get on the bed."  I reissued my former instructions, but with a modifier.
"I want you on your knees.  I want to taste you before I fuck you."

Walt's eyes flashed at me in the low light of the bedroom.  I felt his
excitement grow with the promise of the act I was about to perform on him.
"Are you going to eat my ass?"  He asked eagerly, his expressive voice full
of naughty enthusiasm.

I gripped his nipples hard enough to make him gasp and wince.  I issued my
instructions and made them and order.  "Kneel on the bed, now."

Walt hurried to do as I demanded.  He hopped on the bed and positioned
himself on his knees with his legs apart and his shoulders on the mattress.
He knew I wouldn't want him on all fours, so he didn't bother to prop his
upper body on his arms.  I moved behind Walt and gripped his hips to steady
myself.

Walt's was the only ass I ate regularly.  I'd never developed the habit
with anyone but him.  Too many of my partners were drunken conquest.  I
couldn't trust them to be clean.  I could trust Walt to be clean for me.
As I stared into his waiting hole, I realized that I could trust Walt
completely.  I realized that he was the only person who I was that
comfortable with.

That was another thought that I didn't dwell on.  A strand of drool
threatened to escape my watering mouth.  Instead of wasting the lubricating
fluid by letting it run onto the sheets, I put it where it would do the
most good.  I spit onto Walt's hole and lapped the flat of my tongue over
his dark pucker.  He tasted salty and a little oily.  He was clean, but the
time he'd spent in the kitchen had made him sweat.  That was fine with me.
I liked the taste of man.  I pointed my tongue and drove it inside of him
to get more of his flavor.

I feasted on Walt's hole while I listened to his muffled moans of pleasure.
I ate his ass and massaged his firm cheeks.  As I ate him, my lust built
inside me.  My cock throbbed between my legs, begging for attention.  My
balls craved release.  My whole body burned with passion.

When I couldn't hold my desire back anymore, I planted my hands on Walt's
ass and pushed myself away from him.  I reached for the nightstand to grab
the can of Mrs. Tucker's vegetable shortening.  The green label had an
old-fashioned grandmotherly woman on it.  She seemed to look at me sharply
while I greased my fingers with the silky vegetable tallow.  She looked at
me the way I expected a woman in a starched collar would if she knew what I
used the shortening for.

I rubbed two greasy fingers around the outside of Walt's hole, then let
them sink inside of him.  Walt groaned in satisfaction as I fingered him.
"Ooooooooohhhhhhhhhh yeeeeeeeaaaaaahhhhhhh."  He moaned into the mattress.

His hole opened easily, like it begged me to fill it.  I added more
shortening to my fingers to make sure Walt's insides were slick, then I
greased my cock.  I tossed the shortening can aside and wiped my hand on
the sheet.  I slapped Walt's ass and told him that I was ready to give him
what he wanted.  "Turn over."  I said.

Walt flipped himself like he was an overdone pancake about to scorch.  The
bed rattled and shook as he scooted his big frame to the edge of the
mattress and pulled his legs up to offer himself to me.  I lined up with
his hole and pressed myself inside of him.  Walt responded to the violation
with a sharp intake of breath followed by a contented sigh.  I rested for a
moment to let him get used to having me inside.

While I waited, I played with Walt's feet.  I pressed my face to the sole
of the right one and kissed it, then I lapped it with the flat of my
tongue.  Walt chuckled when I kissed his foot.  His chuckle built to a
belly laugh when I licked his sole from his heel to his toes.  As he
laughed, his hole vibrated and clenched around my cock.  The more I lapped
at his foot, the harder he laughed and the harder he squeezed my cock.
Walt's laughter, and his clenching hole, sent flutters of erotic ripples
through my body.  I thought it was just possible that if I kept teasing his
foot, I could make him laugh me to a climax.

That's not the way I wanted to finish, so I stopped teasing Walt and let
him catch his breath.  As he settled, he seemed to grow impatient with me.
"If you're done being silly, would you fuck me please?"  He asked with a
hint of exasperation in his expressive voice.

To answer him, I pulled my cock almost all the way out of his ass, then
lunged back in.  Walt grunted as my hips bottomed out against his ass.
"Like that?"  I asked.

"Just like that."  He agreed.

I moved my hands and wrapped them around Walt's thick thighs to brace
myself, then I started to pound him for all I was worth.  I fucked Walt
hard and fast.  The room filled with the sticky slap of my hips against the
firm flesh of Walt's ass.  Walt's cock bounced against his belly from the
impact while it matted his fur with its leaking drool.

Walt encouraged me, his words timed for each impact of my hips against his
ass.  "OH-FUCK-YEAH-HARD-ER-OH-GOD-YES!"  His hands moved to his chest
where his fingers pinched and pulled at his nipples, heightening the
pleasure I was pounding into him.

I watched Walt enjoy himself while I enjoyed him.  His ass felt incredible,
tight and hot and slick.  I loved the solid resistance of his big body.  I
loved that I could pound him as hard as I wanted, and he would beg me for
more.  I looked at Walt's cock to see if I was doing it right.  I knew that
if I was, he would be hard enough that the head of his cock would be half
out of his foreskin, and it would be drooling a steady stream onto his
belly.

What I saw told me I wasn't quite hitting the right spot.  I lowered my
hips to point my cock higher in Walt's ass and kept thrusting.  Walt cried
out as I slammed into him.  The fact that he'd lost his words told me I was
finally lined up correctly.  I kept fucking as my climax built in my guts,
the fire inside me stoking higher and higher as the sweat of exertion
bloomed on my body and ran from my forehead to get lost in Walt's fur.

I was getting close, but I wanted to hold myself back so I could finish
with Walt.  I clenched my body to pull the orgasm back inside.  It worked a
little, but I knew I was right on the razor's edge of finishing whether I
wanted to or not.

Walt came to my rescue with the announcement that he was "CLOSE!"  I
gripped his legs tighter and let loose with a burst of energy.  I
rabbit-fucked Walt until he trumpeted my name and the first volley of his
climax launched from his cock to streak the dark fur of his stomach and
chest.  Walt's cry and the contractions of his orgasm pulled me over the
edge.  I exploded inside him, shot after shot of my cream filled his ass
while fireworks of pleasure went off in my body.

I held onto Walt's solid thighs to keep my knees from buckling under me
while I rode my orgasm to the end, then I stayed inside of him while the
pleasure passed off and my control returned.  The only sound in the room
was coarse masculine breathing as Walt and I recovered from our rutting
fit.  As we came back to ourselves, our thinking minds began to notice the
results of our sex.

Walt grimaced in pain.  He released his nipples and rubbed the tender nubs
to soothe away the harsh treatment they'd suffered while Walt was consumed
by pleasure.  I admired the streaks of white that radiated from Walt's
deflating cock and matted his fur to his stomach and chest.  One of the
streaks made it as far as Walt's chin.  He used his finger to scoop the
drip of cum into his mouth.

Walt ran his tongue around his lips as he tasted himself.  He looked into
my eyes with his pale blue gaze and called me down to him.  "Share it with
me."  He suggested.

I wanted to taste what Walt tasted, but I wanted even more.  I bent double
to bring my mouth as far down Walt's body as I could.  I licked and sucked
his load from his fur and brought what I captured to Walt's mouth to share.
We kissed and let our tongues play with the salty, bitter cream.

I let the full weight of my body rest against him, our sweat and his cum
smeared between us.  "Thanks."  I said to his face when our kiss was
finished.

"Thank you."  He replied.

We rested like that until we'd both recovered, and my cock returned to
normal size and slipped out of his hole.  We had a short discussion of
whether we should shower or go to bed with the mingled sweat of our sex
drying on our bodies.  We decided not to clean up until the morning.  I
pushed myself off Walt's body and crawled into bed next to him.  He moved
up next to me and pulled the covers over us.

We settled together and Walt gathered my body to his.  He became the bigger
of our big spoons and added his heat and masculine scent to the afterglow
of our sex.  I relaxed into him and reveled in the feeling of being
sexually satisfied and wrapped in Walt's body.  Walt kissed the side of my
face and reminded me of the question I'd asked several times since the
start of the evening.

"Do you still want to know what the occasion is?"  He asked, and then went
right on with the answer.  "It's our anniversary.  We've been together for
three months."  He kissed me again, squeezed my body lovingly, and closed
his eyes to sleep.

Walt drifted into contented dreamland while sirens screamed in my head.
`ANNIVERSARY!' My mind shouted in fear. `SINCE WHEN ARE WE A COUPLE?'

I didn't sleep a wink that night.  My mind swirled with worry and doubt as
I wondered when and how I'd changed my status from that of occasionally
paying freeloader to PARTNER.

Two awkward days later, I was offered a case in Kensington, which was way
the hell away on the other side of the city.  I packed a bag and left
without a word.  A week later, I'd brought the case to a successful close,
and was headed home with a pocketful of cash.  On the way, I stopped at a
bar and got roaring drunk.  The noise I made when I crashed through the
front door of my office at two in the morning brought Walt running down the
stairs.

Walt was relieved that I was alive, and he was apocalyptically angry about
everything else.  He yelled at me for a long time, then he didn't speak to
me for a month.  I apologized eventually because I was hungry and horny.
He let me back into his life, on probation.  After three months of good
behavior, we were almost back to where we were before.  Then I fucked it up
again.

The pattern repeated several times.  One time, I can't remember which, Walt
swore we were done for good.  "Never again!"  He bellowed.  Five months of
frigid silence later, he woke me up one very early morning.  He did it by
pounding on my room door like he was trying to break it down.

I thought the building was on fire.  I jerked the door open but found no
smoke and no fire.  Instead of a life-threatening emergency, there was Walt
in a bathrobe.  He pushed me back into the room, shut and locked the door,
and removed his robe.  He wasn't wearing anything underneath.

I rubbed my face and wondered which one of us was nuts.  "What's up?"  I
asked.

"I'm tired of not having any."  Walt said and pointed at my underwear.
"Lose the shorts and get in bed."

I looked at him through my fingers to see if he was fooling around.  He
wasn't.  Other than the early hour, I had no objection to what he wanted.
I did as Walt said and gave him what he demanded.  The sex wasn't great as
Walt was very much in it for himself.  I didn't mind because I still got to
have sex with an attractive man.  He left as soon as he finished.

The next day, Walt gave me the cold shoulder.  The day after, he invited me
for dinner and things went back to normal until I fucked up again.

Each time I fucked up, I told myself that if Walt would just let me back in
his life, I'd never hurt him again.  Each time he let me back in, I hurt
him.  The excuse I gave myself was that Walt asked too much of me.  The
plain reality was that I was afraid of the responsibility of a real,
long-term relationship.  I was afraid of the anger and violence that I
nursed inside me.  I was afraid of ruining Walt's life.

Instead of committing to him, or shutting him out completely, I made no
decision and the cycle repeated like a carousel with no attendant, until
Walt had enough.  That morning, as I brooded in my bed, I knew I'd driven
him away for good, and I was very lonely.