12 comments/ 25886 views/ 15 favorites Totaling the Balance By: Ken Nitsua NOTE: This is the first of "The Steelman Tales." I'll say this for Matt, he never beat about the bush. He gave me the bad news almost as soon as we were seated at the booth in our favorite restaurant, the little Indian buffet place tucked away in the busy strip mall. "Jon, I have to tell you something," he said. "I've accepted a position with the company in Greensboro. I'm leaving with my family at the end of the month." I sat there, not reacting yet. I wasn't altogether shocked by his news. During the two years we had known each other he had talked before about the possibility of moving. Now the unthinkable had come to pass. "I wish you'd say something." "Well, what is there to say, Matt? I can't change your mind, can I?" "No. Jon, this is an incredible career op for me. I really couldn't turn it down. And Christine is overjoyed--we'll be moving back close to our families. Her folks especially have missed seeing the kids. They--" "Matt," I interrupted, "Give me credit for never thinking I came before your wife and kids, okay? It's just a little hard to know that I'm not even going to be in the running." Matt said, "Jon--" but then fell silent. His expression was earnest, willing me to understand. I looked at his face, the square jaw and bright blue eyes I had come to love, though I had never said that forbidden word to him. "You did this on purpose, right?" I said. "You waited to tell me the bad news until it was your turn to pick up the check. Well, it worked, I'm not hungry now." He relaxed a bit as he realized I was kidding him. "Do you still want to work out on Thursday?" he asked. I rolled my eyes. "Christ, you're leaving in a month. You think I'm going to pass up an opportunity to see you naked?" He grinned, embarrassed as always when I complimented his body. "I'll call you to confirm, OK?" "Sure," I replied. "Let's eat." "I thought you said you weren't hungry." "I never pass up a free meal from a hunky guy." Matt laughed. "Jon, you're such a joker." I looked him in the eye and said, "What can I do but laugh, Matt?" It was true. The whole thing between Matthew Mulroy and me had been a cosmic joke all along. Once in a while I would shake my head, amazed that it had happened. We used to argue amiably about who had started chatting to whom online, but I'm still sure it was him who made the first move. Matt approached me exactly as he would have a potential business client--polite, friendly but doggedly tenacious. It worked, because he had a charm that kept me talking to him even as I found out he was married and had two school-age children--everything I usually refused to have anything to do with, online or anywhere. It was about a month after his first message to me that we finally arranged to meet in a cafe near one of the roaring commuter freeways we both used to go to and from work. I was nervous--because I was late, for one thing, and also, I had no idea what Matt looked like. I had e-mailed him my picture, which sent him into what I thought was quite undeserved rapture, but Matt had told me he didn't have one of himself. "I have to be careful, you know," he said. So here I was, Jonathan Evans, Jon for short, part-time English instructor at Steelman College, gay, reasonably out, unattached since the death of my partner two years ago (David, rest in peace), going to meet a man with a wife and kids who wanted to fool around on the side with another man. As I said, he was a sweet talker. He was a looker, too, and just as chatty and gregarious in person as he was online. He wore khakis, neatly pressed, and a colorful shirt. "We dress down at my company," he explained. That was fine by me, especially when he left the table to visit the men's room and I got a good look at his small, tight butt. Maybe that was what decided me. Maybe it was the rest of his compact, fit body--he explained that he had been a high school track runner. He still entered an occasional race around town. Maybe it was his smiling face, with its square jaw and dimples--I'm a sucker for a guy with dimples. But I think it was what I saw after I took my turn in the restroom and was walking back to our booth. He was staring out the window, not seeing me yet, and there was a look of sadness and loneliness on his unguarded face such as I hadn't seen in a long time. He turned and saw me then, and immediately flashed his smile, but not before I'd realized I'd had a glimpse of his private hell. Yes, he was as hot as any man I'd tricked with, Matt was--but at that moment I wanted to help the guy as much as get my rocks off. We didn't rush off to bed that first time, though. He had to get back home to his family. "I'd really like to see you again, Jon," he said outside in the parking lot. "You're even better looking than your picture," he added and, hopelessly captivated by then, I swallowed even that tired line. "I think you're a attractive guy too, Matt," I said. He shook my hand, lingering just an instant longer than called for by a casual meeting, and smiled into my eyes. "I'll see you online probably," he said, after we had exchanged office phone numbers. With that we drove off to our respective homes. I half hoped that was the last I would hear of him. I half feared the same. About two weeks later, we met in another crowded, noisy restaurant, Mexican this time. Lunch was as pleasant as our previous meal together. When it was over and I had picked up the tab, over Matt's protests, we stood at the edge of the parking lot. Conversation came to a halt as we shifted our respective weights uneasily from foot to foot. "So," Matt finally said, "what do you have lined up for this afternoon?" "Don't know," I replied. I stopped there for a moment, then took the plunge. "Actually, I've been a little stressed lately. Took the afternoon off, but I didn't make any special plans-- I was going to go home, chill out a bit, you know how it is." More silence hung in the air. Then Matt spoke. "Well, Jon--you know what I did back in the restaurant?" I looked at him. "When I went to the restroom, I called my office and told them I wasn't coming back in today." Our eyes met, then we simultaneously burst out laughing with mingled embarrassment and relief. "Great minds think alike, I guess," I said. Matt said, diffidently, "I guess I'm hoping you might want some company." Jerk that I am, I let him hang in suspense for long seconds before I answered, "Sure, Matt, that would be great." His face lit up and I felt ashamed at having toyed with him. "I'll follow you," he said. Twenty minutes later we sat side by side on the couch in the living room of my apartment. He had refused my offer of a drink. I felt his knee touching mine. I reached out and began to massage it through the denim, then looked up into his face. He was gazing at me, not smiling. I raised one hand and began to stroke his cheek with my thumb. His eyes closed and his lips parted slightly. I leaned forward and placed my mouth on his, gently. I started to withdraw but he put his hand on the back of my head. I felt his questioning tongue on my lips and opened my own mouth in response. For long moments we kissed, gently, sweetly. "That was nice," Matt said, when we finally broke apart. He reached up and began to unbutton my shirt. Gentle and sweet was the way I remember that whole afternoon. It was a new experience for me, taking things so slow--Matt was, not surprisingly, a mixture of passion and inhibition. We sat naked on my living room floor on a quilt I spread out, kissing and holding one another. That way I could get a good view of his hairy chest and broad shoulders, surprising on such a slender frame. I masturbated his hard cock, slick with his copious secretions, while we kissed, then looked into his eyes, dark and liquid with desire. He stroked my cock, a bit hesitantly, and that was about as far as he went. I was surprised that I was enjoying being with him this much, considering we were hardly doing anything sexual, but at last I decided I wanted a little more. Pushing him down gently, I got him on his back on the quilt. Positioning myself between his legs, I bent down and touched my lips to the cool skin on his flat stomach, faintly fragrant with soap. As I gradually worked my way downward, kissing and licking, I felt him stiffen. I looked up and saw that he had raised his head. "What's the matter?" "I usually don't let guys do that," he said. For the first time I felt impatient. "Matt, just relax, okay? Lie back and enjoy." I grasped his cock with my right hand, licked it once and took it in my mouth, knowing that would probably put a halt to his objections. Sure enough, I felt his already hard shaft turn to steel as I went down all the way. He sighed and his body relaxed. One hand reached down and began to caress my head. I gave Matt my very best blow job that afternoon, slickening his organ with my saliva, sliding up and down on his shaft with tightly squeezed lips, pulling gently on his balls, flicking my tongue around the ridge of his swollen glans, and cleaning the precum out of his piss slit as fast as it flowed out. Soon I had him groaning and writhing on the floor under me. "Jon, I'm going to cum," he said finally, trying to wriggle away. Making muffled negative noises, I held him firmly in place, picking up my pace. "I don't want to cum in your mouth... please... oh god," he finally moaned, arching his body upward. I let his cum fill my mouth before swallowing it. Finally I let him go and rose, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. Matt lay sprawled on the quilt, arms flung out, still breathing hard, his eyes closed. Finally he opened them and looked at me. I was relieved when he smiled. "That was great," he said. "I could tell you liked it." I saw a stray drop of cum on the shaft of his cock, bent down and licked it up. "I enjoyed every drop." "I'm going to be absolutely useless for the next hour," he said. "No problem," I said. "But you didn't cum." I looked at Matt lying there, his legs apart, his cock softening, his chest still rising and falling a bit faster than normal. The expression on his face was sleepy and relaxed. For the first time since we met I could see no trace of anxiety or longing in his eyes. "Like I said, no problem." "Thanks, Jon," he said, rising to a sitting position and putting his arms around me. I returned the hug, surprised at my growing affection for the man. I carried him down with me as I lay back on the floor. Matt stretched out full length, his head resting on my left shoulder, his face toward mine, his eyes closed. I put my left arm around him and stroked his hair with my other hand. He put his arm across my chest and snuggled closer, making a little noise of contentment. "Comfortable?" I asked. He opened his eyes and smiled. "And how," he said. I don't know for how long we lay there, not speaking. Finally he stirred and kissed me. "Coming to life again?" I said. He smiled in response and continued kissing me softly, on my forehead, my eyes, my cheeks, working his way down to my throat and chest. He reached my right nipple and began to kiss it. I drew in my breath sharply. His mouth was drawing exquisite sensations. "Oh Jesus, that's sweet," I said. Matt switched to the other one, pausing only to say, "You have a great chest, Jon." He spit into one of his hands, reached down, found my cock, hard again, and began to stroke it, his mouth still on my tit. My hands wandered over his body as I sighed with pleasure. He sat up and began to masturbate me in earnest. In a few moments I groaned and blew my load across my chest and stomach. The first spurt was forceful enough that it hit my chin. I lay back, my arm flung across my face, chest heaving with release. Slowly I came back down to earth. I uncovered my face, opened my eyes, and looked up to find Matt gazing down at me, smiling. "Gosh, you cum a lot," he said. "Your fault," I replied. "Thanks, that was wonderful." It had been a long time since a hand job had turned me on that much. "My pleasure," he said. "Can I help you get cleaned up?" "Bathroom's behind you to your left," I said. He got a towel and wiped me off. I sat up and looked at him. "What is it?" Matt asked. I shook my head. "Matt, you are something else." He smiled again. "Thanks, I think." "You are one hot looking man." He actually blushed. "Aw no, I'm not." "Matt, when a guy you've just messed around with compliments your body, the correct reply is: 'thank you.'" He grinned like a little boy. "Well, thank you." I leaned forward, cupped his face in my hands and kissed him. "You're welcome. Want to take a shower?" "Only if it's with you," he said. I wanted to tell him many things at that moment--how bizarre the whole idea of my making it with a married man really was. How exquisite being with him had been, and how bizarre that was too, because what we had done had been hardly sex at all by my standards. How my feelings for him were growing out of all proportion to the length of time I had known him, or how much I really knew about him. But I couldn't put any of this into words. So I stayed silent and enjoyed my view of his muscled back and dimpled butt as I followed him into the bathroom. I must have had a premonition about just how little I was going to be able to see Matt without his clothes on. Months later in a hotel room in another city, when we finally had some private time together again, I said to him in frustration, "If I'd known how hard this was going to be, I never would have invited you back to my place." "I know, Jon," he said. "I'm sorry." Just keeping in touch with Matt was not difficult--he was online almost every night, and always hailed me with a cheerful hello. I knew about all his family activities, his ups and downs at work and with his finances. We exercised together occasionally at lunchtime, after we discovered we both belonged to the same gym. This didn't work very well. Matt, being a competitive runner, left me in the dust. When he ran my pace on the indoor track, I felt as if he were hanging back against his will. Working out was more fun. I couldn't keep from watching Matt's muscles bulge out as he worked the weight machines, of course. Showering with him was an exercise in frustration, trying not to get an erection at the sight of him naked. Matt was a bit of a tease. With a broad grin on his face, he would flash his dick at me from a distance in the shower when no one was around, or when other occupants' backs were turned. I had my revenge now and then. I would cop a feel standing next to him at the lockers, or grab his cock when we were alone together in the shower and stroke it to erection. "Jon, quit it! Someone might come in," he would hiss, simultaneously aghast and delighted. Still, locker-room horseplay was no substitute for what I really wanted. Not that there was much prospect of doing more if we ever did manage to get together again. In our chats online Matt made it clear that what we had done that afternoon was the limit of his sexual activity with men. I was secretly determined to change that. We had lunch together frequently, most often at a small, nondescript Indian restaurant with surprisingly good and cheap food, halfway between our respective places of employment. I enjoyed eating with him--he was easy on the eye, of course, and at least for a while, hearing about life with a wife and children was interesting, since I had never been close friends with any straight men. "Do you think your wife suspects?" I asked him once, during one of these meals, a few months after our afternoon tryst. He considered the question. "I think she knows that there's stuff I don't talk to her about. She says I spend too much time online. I tell her it's work related." Matt's job included communicating with people in the business all over the world, so this was not unconvincing. "Well, not that I know that much about women, but I have gay friends who used to be married. They all say that when they finally told their wives, the first thing they said was, 'I knew it.' Besides, there's one thing about you that's a dead giveaway, Matt." "What's that?" He looked worried. "No straight man could possibly look that good from behind in jeans. You're out whether you like it or not." "Aw Jon," he said, blushing, "You're such a tease." A silence, then Matt said, "So you really think she knows about me and isn't saying anything, Jon?" "Maybe she doesn't want to know," I said. "She might have taken a look at what she has. A nice house in a good part of town. An SUV to drive. Two great kids who keep her busy and don't get into trouble at school. You, or part of you, at least. Maybe she's added it all up and decided it's not worth rocking the boat." "That sounds so--cold and calculating. Christine's not like that." "Don't kid yourself, bud," I said, "We're all totaling the balance, all the time, whether we know it or not. You've done yours and decided to stay married. I did mine at the end of last month and decided you were still worth keeping around." Matt blinked--the last sentence had come out more sharply than I had intended. "I know we don't see each other enough, Jon. I'm sorry about that." "We haven't seen each other at all, Matt, except for lunch, the gym and that Saturday in the parking garage." He had the grace to lower his head in embarrassment at the memory of that hasty meeting in the deserted company garage. He had told his wife he had forgotten some paperwork at the office and slipped out for an hour. His eyes were wide with need, his cock hard. I had deep-throated him in the front seat of the Ford Explorer, the denim of his jeans rough against my face, his hand pressing against the back of my head. After I had swallowed his load, he had gone to pick up his son and take him to soccer practice. "I know, I know," he sighed. "I'll see what I can do, Jon. I promise." Matt's refusal to make plans for us more than a day in advance drove me crazy. I knew it was because he felt guilty about the whole thing, but understanding that didn't make it any easier. We finally arranged another afternoon together a couple of weeks later. It was a disaster that almost finished us. That morning I called him at the office and left a message telling him when I'd be home. When I got to my place, there was a message from him asking where I was, and that he was waiting for my call. I called and left another message telling him that I was now home. After waiting the rest of the afternoon, I gave up in disgust, sure that he had stood me up. Much later that evening, after I had gone out, gotten drunk and ultimately staggered home alone, I checked my e-mail. There was a note from Matt. "Jon, I'm so sorry. I just got home and re-checked my voice mail and found twenty messages, including two from you. Obviously my pager is screwed up. It never told me I had any calls. I don't know what to say-you have every right to be mad. Let me know if and when you want to talk to me." At that moment, I didn't care whether I ever saw or talked with him again. I went to bed, slept heavily and woke up with a pounding head. There were no calls or messages from him that day at work. I had to give him credit for that. I stayed offline that evening too--slowly I had conceded that the whole snafu, when it came down to it, had not been his fault. I just didn't feel ready to chat again as if nothing had happened. I was sitting reading the paper with the TV on, feeling odd at the unaccustomed activity, when the phone rang. "Jon?" Matt's voice said. "Don't hang up, please?" Momentarily taken aback, I said nothing. Matt never called me at home or in the evening, when he was with his family. He said, "Are you still there?" Totaling the Balance Finally I said, "How come you're calling so late?" "Chris took the kids out to McDonald's. We--had a kind of a bad time today, actually. I told her it would be better if I just stayed home and worked. You aren't online." "No, I'm not." "I understand if you're avoiding me, Jon. I'd like to try and explain." I sighed. "Matt, I know your pager not working wasn't your fault. I'm just mad and frustrated right now." "You have every right to be." I paused, then decided to say it. "Do you think this is worth it, Matt?" "What is?" "Whatever it is that we have. Right now it doesn't feel like much." I heard his intake of breath as he realized what I was suggesting. Then he said, quietly, "Jon, please don't say you don't want to see me anymore." "We hardly see each other now," I pointed out. "Most of the time you're just words on a computer screen. My friends are amazed at my new celibate lifestyle." "But--I thought you saw other people. You told me that." "It hasn't turned out that way, Matt. Somehow you're now the only one. Stupid of me, isn't it?" I said, bitterness suddenly rising. There was a heavy sigh on the other end of the line. "Jon, I don't know what to say. I feel so bad." "You have to understand, Matt," I said, "When things like this get too difficult, my first impulse is to cut and run. I never thought this was a good idea to begin with." "Well, before you decide anything, will you go to Houston for the weekend with me?" Taken by surprise, I stammered foolishly, "Wh-what?" "That's really why I called. I'm being sent to a company meeting there the weekend after next. I'll leave Friday, have business all day Saturday, leave Sunday morning. I'll be really busy and we won't have much time to do anything fun. But, we could spend Friday and Saturday night together if you can get away. Do you want to check your schedule and get back to me?" My heart was pounding with what I realized was joy. "Matt, I'll be there." "Great!" There was relief in his voice. "I'll e-mail you exact information about where we'll be staying and checking in if you get to the hotel before me. And, Jon?" "What?" "I know I've been a pain in the ass. Thanks for putting up with me. Listen, I have to go, I hear the car in the driveway. Talk to you later, okay?" I clicked off the phone, put it down, and sat with the muted TV going unheeded in front of me. The joy receded and was replaced by rueful self-mockery. It seemed I was determined to see this thing through to whatever end. So nine days later I sat in a second-floor motel room off a busy interstate in Houston. The room had been reserved exactly as he had said, and he had given the front desk my name. Still, as it grew later I began to get nervous. What if he had had to call off the trip at the last minute? Or his wife had somehow found out what he was planning besides business? My mind spun all sorts of paranoid scenarios. At last I heard a car pull up below. Looking out the window, I saw that it was his SUV. A minute later he was knocking at the door. I opened it and we were together. For long moments, I was content simply to hold his hard body in my arms. As usual, his only scent was a faint one of soap, clean and masculine. "It's good to see you," I said simply, releasing him finally and looking into his eyes. "It's been too long," Matt said. I kissed him, hard, on the mouth. Matt's lips parted and we were in another hug, lustful this time. His hand went to my crotch. "I want you, Jon," he said. "Same here, bud," I said. "Be right back." Unknown to him, in my weeks of frustrated waiting and fantasizing I had hatched some plans. I shut the door and took my clothes off. Naked, I took the lube out of my toilet kit and squeezed some out onto my hand. I was smiling, breathing fast with excitement, hoping that my little scheme would work. I got the condom box out of the kit, picked up my clothes and walked back into the room. Matt was lying naked on his back on the bed, his cock stiff at attention, playing with it. I saw a string of precum cling to his hand as he lifted it away. He saw me and smiled, raising his eyebrows quizzically. "What's that?" he asked. "Matt, I've been thinking lately," I said. "I know you haven't played around much, and I trust you, but..." "But what?" "Well," I said, reaching up and scratching my head in feigned embarrassment, "I think we should think a little more about playing safe. Like I should put a rubber on you when I suck you." "But....," Matt said, his face falling, "Are you sure we have to do that?" I kept my voice serious as I answered, "I think so. Remember that first time, you didn't even want me to do it to you." "That's true," Matt said, slowly, "but--I trust you, Jon. Are you sure?" "Let's just try it," I urged. "It's not going to feel any different, you'll see." I took a condom package out of the box. Throwing the box and my clothes on a nearby chair, I got on the bed with him. His cock had shrunk a bit, from disappointment, maybe, but began to grow again as I grasped it and smiled into his eyes. "I'm glad you're here, Matt," I said, leaning down to kiss him. He got hard again as our mouths met and played. I got the condom wrapper open and took it out. I quickly unrolled it onto his dick, then bent down and took the latex-covered shaft into my mouth, gripping it hard with my hand as well. I had to admit I wasn't too fond of the taste myself. I heard Matt's quick intake of breath and looked up. "Not so bad, is it?" Matt said, "Jon--it feels wonderful. It's been such a long time. Suck me." I was getting a charge at sucking Matt again, condom or no condom. I slid up and down on his cock, pulling his balls, until my partner was moaning and grabbing at my head. I knew then that the moment had come. I sat up, still holding his dick, pretending I wanted to kiss him. "You are so handsome," I said. At that moment, I rocked back, quickly placed the head of Matt's cock against my asshole, which I had greased up back in the bathroom, and pushed down. He slid in, no problem. I gasped as my insides cramped at the invasion, but didn't let up until he was all the way inside me, his balls against my cheeks. "Jesus!" Matt cried. "What the fuck are you doing?" I grinned at him through the brief pain. "Trying something new." "Jon, you tricked me! You asshole." I laughed. "You got that right, bud." As the pain receded, I began to ride him, squeezing my ass muscles. "So, you want me to quit?" I saw his eyes go out of focus, his jaw slacken, and thought I could predict the answer. "You know I don't do that... Jon... Oh God," Matt sighed, as he felt the new sensations from being ridden by a tight asshole flood through him. "Thought so. Just relax, buddy. We're having safe sex, just like I promised." Matt said again, "You jerk, you tricked me," but he was smiling. "And you fell for it, you horny chump," I laughed. "Having a good time now?" "God yes," Matt said, "Your ass feels so good, so hot, so tight," he added, thrusting his hips upward for emphasis. I grunted as his dick hit my prostate. "Oh yeah, baby, you know how to fuck, don't you, you married stud. Do it to me." I began to jack my own very hard dick off in rhythm to his thrusts up my asshole. "Let me be on top," Matt said softly. I put my hands under his shoulders and pulled him into a sitting position, then leaned back. We turned over awkwardly but his cock stayed inside of me. Once we were settled with me on my back, my calves against his shoulders, Matt began to fuck in earnest. His breathing came in shallow bursts, his face was flushed. His face was locked in an intense grimace. "Jon, you are so hot," he said. "Enjoy it, buddy. Fuck me," I encouraged him. "Fuck me," I repeated, jacking my stiff dick. The sight of his body between my spread legs, his hairy chest, his stomach muscles working with the force of his thrusts, drove me insane. I felt the climax rising in my body and abandoned myself to it. "Shit, I'm cumming..." My asshole clamped down on his pole sliding through me as my cock began to release thick spurts of cream across my stomach. Matt leaned forward over me and began to drive into my body like a jackhammer. A sheen of sweat covered him, his face dark red, his eyes tightly shut. He blew air noisily, letting out small incoherent whimpers. He was shooting his first load up another man's ass. I tightened my insides to give him more pleasure. At last his thrusts slowed and his head fell on my shoulder as he collapsed against me. "Are you okay?" I said, putting my hands lightly on his butt that a few moments ago had been in such frantic motion. He barked a short, breathless laugh. "I don't know. That was amazing." He straightened up, his chest lightly smeared with my cum. "You shouldn't have done that." "I know, Matt. I forced you," I said, unable to keep the sarcasm completely out of my voice. He shook his head ruefully, "I didn't need a lot of forcing, I admit it. It was just--so different." "How, Matt?" "I guess--this is going to sound stupid, but a woman is supposed to submit to a man, in a way, you know? But you're a man, and you wanted it. It made it so wonderful, that you would let me do that to you. That doesn't make sense, I know." I looked at him. "Matt, it makes perfect sense. You just described being gay." He looked back, his blue eyes troubled. "Jon, would you understand if I didn't want to do it again? At least not for a while?" "It's okay. I won't make you do anything ever again." "Well," Matt said, "the truth is, I wanted to, or I wouldn't have let you." He pulled out of me and went to the bathroom to clean himself up. He came back with a towel and wiped me off, then lay on the bed beside me. I enfolded him in my arms. My having compelled him to explore new areas of himself didn't seem to have changed his affection, at least for the moment. In fact, it had broken some barrier inside him. As we lay together in that impersonal motel room, the traffic rushing by outside, he told me more about himself and his feelings that night than in the entire time we had talked up until then. He had realized he was "different" when he was in middle school. A group of high school athletes, friends of his older brother, were in a bullying mood one day. They had abducted him, taken him to an isolated spot in the woods in back of the school and forced him to suck all their dicks. "Halfway through all of that, I looked down and I realized that I had a hard-on," Matt said. "One of the jocks saw it too. He said, hey, this kid likes doing this. He's a faggot. "Those assholes went and told everyone at school what had happened and that I had liked sucking dick. All the older kids started calling me 'queer boy' and 'fairy' after that and asking if I would give them head too. Fortunately, we moved away in the summer and no one at the new school knew anything of course. "After that, I decided no way was anyone going to find out I was queer. I dated girls, ran track, got straight As, went off to college. Dated girls, ran track, raised hell, got Cs," he grinned. "Graduated, got married, got a job, got kids. Got everything I wanted, but something was missing." "When did you start seeing other men?" I asked him. "I'd thought about it for a long time," Matt said. "I was sent down here on a business trip from North Carolina before I moved here with my family. I went to a gay bar downtown and was scared stiff the whole time. Heard about some woods where guys went. Drove out there and, well, I met someone. But that was all it was -- a quickie in the bushes. "I moved down here--that was five years ago--and was working so hard I really didn't have time to think about getting with anyone. I started checking out these chat rooms on the Internet after a while though. Then one night, I'm talking to someone and all of a sudden I realize it's a guy who works in my division. "I played cat and mouse with him, got him to tell me more and more about himself. I was bad," he chuckled. "When I finally told Jim--that was his name--who I was, he freaked. Got mad actually, wouldn't talk to me at work the next day. He came around though, eventually. We had some fun times... "He was married too, but separated. Nice guy. Working in the same place made things easier. We got assigned to go to meetings together and no one suspected anything when we shared a hotel room. Sometimes when he went by himself, I'd go too, pay my own way and tell my wife it was a company assignment. "But Jim got a good offer and moved to Atlanta. We still keep in touch, we're really good friends. But it's hard to be anything more now, of course." He shifted on the bed, looking at the ceiling, his expression far away, remembering. "Matt, are you a happy man?" He thought, and said, "Actually I am, most of the time. I wish I was a better husband and father. I love my wife. I love my kids. But it's just not enough. I don't like the deception, of course. "I'd been thinking a lot lately about heading back up north. Christine's never been totally at home here, she misses the East Coast. Now though, it's a lot harder," he said, taking my hand. "No point in kidding ourselves," I said, emotion making my voice harsh. "If it comes down to crunch time, you'll go." "Jon, you don't think much of me, do you?" I let go a bit of my frustration at him then, I must admit. Matt apologized. It was a running pattern in our lives. But at least he gave me fair warning that what we had wasn't going to last. Matt had told me in the restaurant that he was leaving for sure, and the days began to rush by toward the end of our time together. But on the surface, we went on as before, having lunch together, working out at the gym. He came to my apartment twice in that last month. We had never been together enough for the initial charge of attraction to diminish, and our lovemaking became even more intense, particularly our kisses. That was one act Matt had no inhibitions about. I remember one kiss most of all: on my bed, him on top, holding my head, me holding his, our tongues now gently teasing, now roughly tangling, our lips meeting over and over again, touching softly, then pressing passionately. He would leave my mouth at times and kiss my eyes, my nose, my mustache. I caressed his hair, then held his head away from me so that I could look into his blue, blue eyes. Then always we would return to each other's mouths as if to try and drink from each other's souls. Later, thrusting into my crouching form from behind, he shouted with some wordless emotion, grief and joy in equal parts, as he climaxed inside me. He slept afterwards, but I stayed awake. Holding him and looking at his peaceful face in the still afternoon, it seemed hardly possible he would leave me forever. As the departure day approached, I saw and talked to Matt less and less; he was just too busy with the demands of closing his house and moving his family far away. He had told me he would be leaving on a Thursday. On the Tuesday two days before, he called me at home in the evening, for only the second time. I had been drinking in solitary gloom and was a bit combative. "So, Matt, to what do I owe this honor?" I asked. "Family gone out to McDonalds again?" "Actually they've already gone. Chris and the kids flew out this morning--they're staying with her folks until our new place is ready. I'm hanging around to do some last- minute errands, and to make sure the house is ready for the new owners. They aren't going to be coming in until next week--they're moving here from California. I'm having a driver take the car up north tomorrow, and I'm flying up myself early Thursday morning." "So why are you telling me all of this?" I wasn't in the mood for hearing details about his leaving. "Jon--I'll be by myself in an empty house for the next day and a half. It's getting awfully lonely here already. Would you come stay with me tomorrow night?" "You know," I said, "I have been sitting here getting drunk--because I thought you were going to leave without saying goodbye." To my dismay, my voice cracked a little as I said the last word. "Jon," Matt said warmly, "You know I would never do that. You could come over right now if you want." "Well, the truth is, I'm in no condition to drive," I said, morosely amused at the situation. "You should have called about an hour ago, before I broke out this ancient bottle of Scotch." "I should have called you days ago, I know. Say you'll come tomorrow, Jon, please." "I will, Matt. Besides, you need a ride to the airport, don't you?" After work the next day, I drove to his house, following the directions he had given me. It struck me, as I threaded my way through the unfamiliar neighborhood, that I had never been to where he lived until now. The house turned out to be a modest but pleasant two- story structure, with a carefully tended front yard. I knocked and Matt opened the door, dressed in a light blue polo shirt and jeans. He was as handsome as ever, and my prepared good cheer faltered. "Welcome," he smiled, as if I dropped by all the time. I passed into the front hallway, stripped of all furnishings. We hugged tightly, and kissed. A lump rose in my throat but I pushed it back. "Nice house," I said, idiotically. "Well, I could give you a tour, I guess, but there's not much to see." His laugh was forced as well. We nevertheless walked through the downstairs, out into the back yard, and then upstairs. Nearly all of the rooms were bare. In one, a double air mattress piled with bedclothes was on the carpeted floor, an open carry-on suitcase lying next to it, a small portable alarm clock nearby. "I'm staying on the floor of my son's room tonight. Sorry, but it's not really very comfortable. I didn't get much sleep last night." "Doesn't matter." I knew that he had moved in there so that we wouldn't be staying in the bedroom he had shared with Christine. "There's nothing to eat in the house. Are you hungry?" "Sure," I lied. "Well," he said, laughing a little, "The driver took the car an hour ago. You'll have to do the honors." We didn't eat or talk much at dinner, and came quickly back to the house afterward. Despite the luxury of having time alone with Matt, I didn't even feel horny. We stood once more in the empty front hallway. "It's a nice evening," he said. "There's a screened porch out back. Do you want to sit a while?" It was late spring and not yet oppressively hot. So we sat in outdoor furniture he was leaving behind, and watched the evening gradually fade into darkness. I reached over and took his hand. He turned and smiled. "I'm glad you came by, Jon." After a while, Matt said, "I need a glass of water. How about you?" I shook my head and he got up and walked into the house. I watched him go. I had always enjoyed looking at him from behind, whether naked or clothed-the broad shoulders tapering down to narrow waist and hips, and the small perfect butt, at the moment outlined in denim. I felt the lust that had been absent all evening rise up in me, and followed him into the kitchen. He was standing at the sink, running water. I came up behind him and put my arms around him and squeezed him against me, running my hands over his chest, nuzzling his neck. "Turn off that tap," I said. "Turn around." He faced me, his eyes as wide with longing as they had been that first time I saw him. "Oh Jon," he said, "I wish to hell I wasn't going." "Don't think about that now." I kissed him once, then knelt on the linoleum, pulling up his shirt, running my hands up his stomach and chest, unbuttoning the fly on his jeans. The pale skin of his pubic area came into view--he wasn't wearing underwear. I pushed the fabric down his thighs and his cock sprang free. I took it quickly all the way down, burying my face in his warm crotch, his pale brown pubic hair tickling my nose. Totaling the Balance Upstairs, we lay on the air mattress, which proved uncooperative. During one passionate tussle the thing turned over and dumped us on the bedroom floor. We laughed until tears ran down our cheeks. "Fuck this shit," Matt said, pulling the blanket out of the tangle and spreading it on the floor. "It's more comfortable down here on the rug." I thought about how we had become lovers, as they used to say, on the floor too. Before I could get sad Matt was over me again, looking into my eyes. "Jon, I have a request." "What, Matt?" "Would you fuck me?" I was speechless. Matt had gradually loosened up sexually but he had never let me top him. I had kept my promise and not pestered him about it. Finally, I said, "Matt, are you sure?" "As sure as I'll ever be. It's now or never, guy." I shook my head in amazement. "You're full of surprises." He grinned in his old way. "You going to do it or not?" "I didn't bring any rubbers." "I have some, and lube, too. Look in my suitcase." "You planned this, you sneak." "Guilty as charged," he laughed, and turned over onto his stomach on the blanket, arms above his head. "It's all yours, buddy. Go easy on me, now." I was about to suggest that he might be more comfortable starting on top, but seeing him lying there, offering himself to me, gave me another idea. I spread his legs apart and lay down between them, then threaded my arms under him until my hands were resting on his back just above his cheeks. "Bend your legs, Matt," I said. He obeyed, and his buttocks parted just enough so I could see the darker skin of his asshole nestled in the cleft. I kissed his cheeks gently, then started using my tongue, beginning at the top of the crack and working my way downward. Matt moved slightly and sighed beneath me. I licked a few hairs, then found the silky smoothness of his hole, so different from the surrounding skin. I began to flick my tongue gently against it. Matt pushed his butt up against my face as I thrust my tongue inside. This brought a loud groan. "Oh God Jon, that feels so good." "Tastes good too, buddy," I replied, then returned to the attack. His response delighted me and I needed no further encouragement, twisting my head as I fucked him with my mouth. I found his hard cock underneath with one hand and took hold of it. "Jon, if you do that I'll cum right now." "Not yet." I straightened up, and, pulling gently on Matt's body, got him into a kneeling posture, his head still on the floor. I fumbled in his suitcase and found the rubbers and lube. Squeezing some onto one finger, I pushed gently into his asshole and probed until I felt the knob of his prostate gland. This brought another grunt of pleasure from Matt. "What the fuck are you doing?" he asked. I chuckled, "Giving you a rectal exam." "Hell, it never felt this good when my doctor did it." "Just wait, it gets better." My own cock was hard and dripping precum. I hooded it. "Now, just try and relax. This could hurt a bit at first." " Just take it slow, okay?" "I will, Matt." I positioned myself so that my cock was in the cleft between his cheeks. Letting my weight go forward gradually, I began to push into him. I heard Matt's breathing increase its pace. "Easy, fella," I breathed, "I'm not going to hurt you." I felt the firm ring of his sphincter begin to give way and expand slowly to admit the head, then, all of a sudden, his muscles closed behind it and I was inside him. Matt gasped, "God!" "You okay? Does it hurt?" "Oh, not bad--only like a log up my butt," Matt laughed shakily. "You're not rupturing me or something, are you?" "No, I'm not, just take it easy. You're doing great." I looked down and saw his tousled head, bent before me in submission; his shoulders and back, tapering down to his narrow waist; his round butt cheeks flaring out just a bit; and the pole of flesh disappearing between them, sign of my possession and his surrender. I stroked his back as I pushed in further. Matt rose onto his hands and knees. His head came up, his eyes closed as he concentrated on the new sensation of being penetrated. At last my pubic bone was pressing against his butt. "You got it all, buddy," I said. "How's it feel? Still hurt?" "Jesus, oh Jesus," Matt gasped, "It's incredible." I began to slide back and forth slowly in his ass as I reached down and grabbed his cock, hard as steel. I felt his insides clamp down on my rod. "You can't do that, Jon," Matt said. "I'll blow in a second if you keep touching me there. Goddamn, it's so sensual." "Okay." I fucked him slowly for a few moments longer, grasping his hips. Then Matt moved forward and eased himself off my cock, grunting again as it slid out. He flipped over onto his back on the blanket. "Take me this way." I moved between his raised legs and slid into him once more. I wet my right hand with his precum and began to stroke his dick in rhythm with my renewed thrusts. I looked at his face--Matt's head was up off the rug, his eyes were turned toward me, dark, unseeing as his orgasm approached. "Jon, I'm going to cum... Oh God... Oh! Oh!" he shouted, as he began to spew white lava over my hand and onto his belly. I was ramming into him with the speed and force of a machine. As Matt shot his load, I felt my own sperm rush up from my balls, through my organ and into the rubber jammed inside him. I matched him shout for shout as we climaxed together. Finally I opened my eyes, drew back, and pulled slowly out of him. Matt's head was back down on the floor, his eyes closed. I realized with alarm that he was shaking with silent sobs. "Matt, what's wrong, what is it?" He shook his head, the tears running out of his eyes sideways onto the blanket underneath. I bent and embraced him, not knowing what else to do. He clung tightly to my neck. At last he quieted down a bit and lay back down. "I'm sorry." His voice was still watery. "Sorry for what, Matt?" "Sorry for everything--the way I got you tangled up with me, the way I've treated you. The way I've led my whole miserable life." He gazed at me, still teary. "Being with you tonight made me realize what a lie my life is. What I want is to stay with you forever. And I can't." "No, you can't," I said slowly. "You're too hard on yourself, Matt. The reality is that you have a wife and children who love you, and you love them. That's not a lie. "And," I continued, my throat tightening, "I love you too, Matthew Mulroy." "I don't deserve you, Jon. I don't deserve anyone." I smiled. "It doesn't matter. We all love you in spite of you." "What the fuck am I going to do?" Matt asked. "That's a tough one," I said slowly. "I hope whatever you decide, you'll be able to keep the love of everyone you care about most. But no matter what happens, Matt, you'll have mine." We fell asleep in each other's arms, back on the unruly air mattress. There was no need for his alarm--we awoke early as sunlight flooded through the rooms of the empty house. It was a beautiful day, contrasting sharply with our downcast mood. We got dressed in silence. Matt quickly packed up the few things in the back bedroom and closed his carry-on suitcase. After deflating the air mattress, he said to me, "There really isn't any way I can take this thing along--want to just keep it?" I shrugged. "Sure, why not," I said, taking the awkward object. As we were about to walk out the door, I stopped him. When he turned, I said, "We won't be able to do this at the airport," and hugged him for a long time, dropping the ridiculous air mattress. After a while, Matt said against my chest, "We'd better get going." Turning quickly away, he opened the door and walked outside. We drove in silence--after last night, there wasn't much more to say. It was as if Matt and I were already many miles apart. There was just me and the aching loneliness inside. Once I stole a sidelong glance at him. His face was impassive, his jaw set grimly. Perhaps he felt the same. At the entrance to the secured area of the airport he turned to face me. I could go no further with him. "Looks like this is it, Jon. Thanks for everything." I couldn't look him in the eye. I stood there, staring at the floor, trying to stay in control. At last, I said, "You know it's been my pleasure, Matt. Have a safe journey." I looked up then. Matt's lips were tight and his eyes shone with tears. He said, "Goodbye, Jon." Did his voice break when he said my name? He stepped forward and put his arms around me. Surprised and grateful, I returned the hug. I heard him whisper, "I love you too." He then broke away before our embrace became more than an expression of affection between good buddies, and joined the line of ticket holders. I started to walk away, then turned. He was in line, looking at me. He managed a smile and a wave, and I raised my hand in response. I walked some more, then turned again, but he was lost to view. I joined the surging crowd of travelers, all on their way to somewhere. END