It all started on a cloudy day, when the air smelled of rain and the wind played with the fallen autumn leaves. I was sitting at a table in front of a cafe three blocks from my house, drinking hot tea. The newspapers were spread out at my side, the edges of the pages struggling to flip over with every strong gust of wind.
I needed a breather from my flat, my work. The walls had seemed as if they were closing in on me, so I escaped to this little peaceful place to take a break. Every man needed some time off, a few minutes to think things through or an hour of silence with no one to bother him with thousands of silly questions.
I wasn't there more than fifteen minutes when the doors on the building across the street flew open, banging loudly. A young man tumbled out. His whole posture was slumped, his black hair partnering with the playful wind and dancing around his head. It wasn’t exactly cold outside, but the temperature certainly asked for more than a thin, skintight, sleeveless shirt. His pants were baggy, but still outlined his perfect ass.
There was something in the way he walked that sent a shock of lust to my cock. Maybe it was the tempting line of his neck, or the whisper of his nipples beneath the shirt. I stripped him with my gaze as vividly as I would have a man who I was about to fuck, and there was not an ounce of him that clashed with my desire.
Obviously, I’m gay. There’s been no secret about that fact since I turned fourteen. Never had any desire for girls, and when I first found a boy I liked, it was perfectly natural to kiss him. Only when I got a fist in my face did I start to wonder what I’d done wrong.
My mother was a single parent, always working more than spending time with me. I was raised more by my neighbors and later by my grandparents than by her. I loved her very much, but it wasn’t until later I understood why she was never home. It took even more time before I was able to forgive her for her constant absence from my life.
My grandparents were already old by the time we’d moved into their apartment. We’d moved in with them partly to look after them and partly to distance me from the bad neighborhood we’d lived in before. So the first talks about sex I ever had were with Joe, my grandfather. We moved in with them between my very first kiss and my interest in another boy.
So instead of making the same mistake twice and getting another fist in the face, I talked to my grandpa first. Now, when I look back at that time, I realize that I was a very naive child. I was exposed to everything my peers were exposed to, but somehow, I only heard selected things. And while most children differentiated between straight and gay sex, I had no idea my desires were out of the ordinary. The first time I asked my grandfather how to kiss another boy without getting beat up in the process, I almost gave him a heart attack.
He started grabbing his chest and slipping out of his chair. Only the fact that my grandmother was in the house to calm him down spared us a trip to the hospital.
My innocent little question led to countless family conversations, where they tried to explain to me how I should kiss a girl and not a boy, and how I would marry someday and have children of my own. It was the first time that I noticed that there was a difference between what I wanted and what everybody else considered normal.
However, it didn’t stop me from asking if I could just practice on girls until I found a boy I liked. Joe lifted his palms in the air before slamming them on his thighs and walking out of the room. My mother just stared at me with her jaw slack, and my grandmother shook her head in disbelief.
It took them a few months of useless persuasion before they gave up and explained to me that I was gay. I think it was a final blow for my mother, who considered herself responsible for the way I turned out. We were never especially close, but after that period, the wall between us only thickened. She is still a good mother, always there for me if I should need something, but the wall never shrunk, and to this day, we’re little more than strangers with obligations to each other.
To my surprise, it was Joe who became my best friend. He even joked about my sexuality and gave me some good advice. He was the first person who was there every time someone broke my heart, and the first person I introduced my boyfriends to when I got serious with them.
Remembering Joe always disconnected me from the real world, so it was only when a box of what looked like books flew from a window and crashed on the pavement that I shrugged off the memories and paid attention to the here and now.
The tight-assed hunk from across the street was standing there, his palms outstretched and his eyes focused on the shirtless man in the second-story window.
“Are you fucking crazy, Chris? That could have killed me!”
“I don’t give a flying fuck, you slut!” screamed the man in the window as he threw some clothes from the window as well.
“You can’t do that!” yelled the hunk back as he collected his stuff from the building’s steps.
“Just watch me, you piece of shit!” The man, who was apparently called Chris, shot back with venom in his voice.
“You knew how I was before we hooked up! Come on!” The pleading in the young man’s voice was such a shameless lie that it was hard not to notice it.
“My bed, Mikey! You fucked him in my bed
!” Chris screamed so loud, his voice cracked, and then he threw out some shoes and what looked like a Guitar Hero
Mikey actually threw himself after that, barely catching the guitar, but at the cost of his pants getting ripped as they got stuck on the edge of the fence.
“He was just a good fuck, Chris. It didn’t mean anything.” Mikey tried once more.
“Am I also just a fuck, Mikey? Only I have to support you for the sex I get; the rest of them get it for free! I shouldn’t have expected more from a nineteen-year-old. Fuck off, Mikey! I never want to see you again.” Chris said, suddenly sounding resigned, and he closed the window with a bang.
So Mikey was nineteen. He certainly looked young, but who was I to complain about his age. Don’t they always say the younger the better? God, I sound like such a sleaze!
I wasn’t a particularly cruel man, and I did feel sorry for Chris, but the whole situation amused me to no end. My newspaper lay folded on the edge of the table, forgotten, and I watched the scene play out with interest.
Mikey was collecting his things one by one and folding them on top of the book-filled box. I ogled his ass every time he bent over. The morning was shitty for him, but it was the most fun I’ve had in almost two weeks. Not to mention the spikes of pure desire my dick kept sending through my body at the sight of that gorgeous gay man.
As Mikey sat on the building steps, pushing his hair behind his ear, I couldn’t miss the defeated look in his eyes. He looked young, very young. The puppy eyes were almost on the verge of tears before he lowered his forehead onto his crossed arms that were resting on his knees.
Up until that moment, I understood Chris. If someone cheated on me, I wouldn’t hesitate to throw him out on his cheating ass too. But as I watched Mikey so lost and alone, with the wind beating against his now shaking form, I couldn’t help but feel sorry for him.
Where the hell did Chris get the nerve to throw a kid out on the street? What a dick.
Without even thinking about it, I threw some bills on my table and with a purposeful stride walked over to the other side of the street. I hesitated for a second as I approached Mikey, his milky white skin doing strange things to my already lust-filled body. I shook it off and sat beside him on the chilly steps.
“Tough day, huh?” I asked him, looking somewhere off in the distance even as I struggled not to lean against him, feel his warmth, and take in his intoxicating scent.
“Yeah,” Mikey whispered between sniffs.
“Do you have someone to call?” I was hoping that he wasn’t alone in the world, like so many kids were. I don’t know why I kept associating him with some schoolboy when he was obviously old enough. Maybe it was his youthful appearance and my conflicting attraction.
“I’m Kyle.” I offered him my hand and waited patiently, anticipating the touch as if I was a man starved of such.
For the first time, he lifted his head and looked at me. Glistening tears were still resting at the corners of his eyes, and the storm was in its full wake behind the dark green of his irises.
If it were possible, he looked even younger up close. The tips of his long sideways bangs reached the middle of his cheeks, and I was betting that they stopped just as they reached his dimples. I hadn’t seen him smile yet, but really, all that was missing were the dimples. Christ, I was turned on by a kid.
He must have found what he was looking for in my eyes, because he took hold of my hand and smiled. It was a flirty smile that went only to one side of his face for a better impression and was perfectly matched with the come get me
look his eyes portrayed. But the feel of his delicate palm in mine had my heart racing on its imaginary track, and in fear of simply molesting him right then and there, I severed our contact even as I smiled back.
If my self-control were any less developed, he would have had me in his bed, or as it were, my
bed, by the end of the afternoon if not sooner. Hell, I would have tackled him
, not unlike a man possessed, and ravished him silly. Instead, all I gave him was that one friendly smile and said, “You must be Mikey.”
He blushed oh, so sweetly, extending that smile to his other cheek too and introduced me to those heartbreaking dimples. If my cock could have been any harder, it would have ripped open my pants in its desperate search for Mikey’s attention. This was that one time when I hated to be right.
“I guess you saw that, huh?” His shyness only made him more desirable in my book, and silently I cursed the weakness he caused in me.
“It was kind of hard to miss.”
“I’m not usually like that.” I wasn’t sure what he was trying to do, with all his smiles and seductive gazes, but the last thing I planned was to be his next sexual conquest.
“What are you like then?” I pushed the seductive vibe as much as he pushed his.
“I’m a good person, you know?” He pushed back those playful strands of hair from his eyes and focused on the concrete beneath out feet.
“I never said anything different.”
“Yes, but Chris... Chris said a lot of ugly stuff.”
“Chris is an ex. Why should I listen to someone who wasn’t good enough?” The words just popped out of my mouth, and I knew I was flirting big-time when I only wanted to be helpful. It was like he dragged the reaction from me, no matter how much I struggled against it.
It wasn’t my intention to flirt, or even to react to his advances, no matter how innocent they might have been. There was enough difficulty in the simple nearness we shared and the lust induced by it. My imagination forced visions of his tempting, naked body straight down toward my weakest point, and everything that helped stir it more was bad. Very bad.
“You really mean that?” His whole demeanor perked up, and he stared at me with such expectation that I knew right then and there that I would end up giving him whatever he wanted and never take anything for myself.
It was like he won me with those simple words, the innocent set of his lips, the expectant look in his eyes, and I buried all the sexual fantasies I had starring him right away and toned down all the lust that filled me when he was near. I would be a friend, but nothing more. Mikey was pure fire that would completely consume me on its path, then spit me out as nothing more than a burned black piece of gay flesh. I really hoped that I was man enough to stand behind my words.
“Sure I mean it. I like to form my own opinions about people.”
“So what do you think about me?”
“That, kid, is a long process that takes time. I’ll let you know eventually.” God knows that he didn’t need to hear about all the kinky images playing in my head since the moment I first saw him.
He pouted sweetly, but soon jumped to his feet. “Well, I guess I should move on. No point in staying in the middle of the street.”
I stood too, trying my best not to lower my eyes below his neck.
“You don’t happen to have a spare room I could stay in until I get back on my feet?”
I wanted to offer him some type of security, even though I’d had something a bit different in mind when I first approached him. But his words still caught me like a deer in the headlights. Who would even invite himself to a stranger’s apartment?
Clearly Mikey didn’t have that problem, and imagining him in my space, always close, his every step an invitation, his tempting smell an aphrodisiac... I all but moaned before biting my tongue at the last possible moment.
“Actually, I do,” I said as I found the last traces of my composure.
“I don’t have much money right now, but I work as a waiter here and there, so I’ll get you some cash. That okay?” He babbled like he was paid for it.
“It’s not a problem. You need help with that?” I motioned toward the boxes filled with his stuff. Every distraction at that moment was very welcome.
“Oh, no. I’m pretty strong, even if I don’t look it. I can carry it. Do you live far?”
“Not really, about three blocks away.”
With that I got myself a roommate and more trouble that one man needed in his life.