Torso Tackle

by R. W. Clinger

  She collects me into her arms and hugs me. Once the hug is finished, she confesses, “You stink. You need a shower. I’m going to start the water for you.”

  “I’ll only try to drown myself,” I say, pleading my case of ultimate heartbreak.

  She spins on her heels while walking to the bathroom, and snaps, “Don’t say that, Sebastian! No man should break you, no matter how much you love him.”

  This coming from a woman who has found Ben again, her true match, working things out with him. I ignore her, slump on the sofa, and abandon all thoughts of improvement occurring in my life, forever.

  * * * *

  The following day at the apartment some solace is found when Ben decides to make an unexpected visit. We shake hands, which leads into an innocent hug, and he eventually pulls away from me, saying, “Don’t put the moves on me. I still love how you feel against my skin. You’ll make me shoot…and Zoe’s monitoring my orgasms.”

  It’s the first positive thing that has happened to me over this weekend. I smile and share, “She said you were going to call me.”

  “I thought stopping by was better. I hope you don’t mind.”

  I don’t. Hell no. Never. And I tell him this, being honest. “You’re still my friend, Ben, no matter what we did together. You’ll always be my friend.”

  “Just keep your cock away from me and neither of us will get into any trouble. I can’t be eating your junk anymore, which you’re very much aware of.”

  Again, I laugh, glad he stops by, cheering me up and not even realizing it.

  I suggest a strong drink, and a toast to a new relationship between us, to baby steps, and coming to terms with our past doings.

  Ben agrees, but adds, “I can’t get drunk. I’ll end up taking your clothes off and doing some naughty things to your dick and ass. Zoe would not approve.”

  “I understand,” I reply. “One drink is enough. No hardcore shit. Just a beer this time. Something safe we can share. What do you think?”

  He’s game, which prompts me fetch the Rolling Rocks from the kitchen.

  * * * *

  Catching up, sitting on either ends of my new sofa, I watch Ben put his beer on the coffee table. He sits up and slips a hand into the front pocket of his jeans. I watch carefully as he pulls out a ruby-colored velvet box. Once the jewelry box is removed from his jeans, he opens it and turns it around for me to see. A two-carat emerald-shaped diamond ring glitters and sparkles with white and gold iridescence.

  “Holy shit,” I whisper. “That thing is as big as Kansas.”

  “And just as expensive. How do you like it?”

  I shake my head and joke, “Ben, I love it…but I can’t marry you. Zoe would burn me on a cross.”

  He calls me an asshole, laughs, and eventually shares, “I’m asking her to marry me.”

  “Exactly what she wanted in the first place.” I take the ring from him and admire it; stunning, swanky, glimmering. I approve whole-heartedly and pass the ring back to him. He tucks it away where it belongs. “What about your desire for guys and their sexual company?” I ask, curious about his past misbehavior with men and sexual addictions.

  He’s honest with me, and to the point. “I want to see what happens with Zoe. I want to give her a chance.”

  “You won’t be miserable with her? Sexually frustrated?”

  He shakes his head. “She’s my best friend. My soul mate. We’ll work through it if something comes up. Besides, when you get old, sex is lost from a relationship, or so I hear.”

  I respect his decision. Zoe’s a good woman. And Ben is a good man. The two of them will take care of each other as husband and wife, happily ever after.

  “I do hope you’re going to invite me to the wedding.”

  He smiles from ear to ear, laughs, and confirms, “You’re going to be my best man, Sebastian. I just hope you’re up for it.”

  I’m always up for Ben. Now. Tomorrow. Forever. He’ll always be my best friend, no matter how sexy I think he is, and no matter how hard he makes me. I’ll always be there for him, honestly.

  Chapter 39: In Talon Park

  Zoe and I are walking again, fully back into our friendship. We stop to get a coffee at The Muffin Shack and spend the first Saturday in February on Terran Trail, side by side like best girlfriends.

  The winter’s day is forty degrees with some sun. There is still snow on the ground, but it’s melting quickly. She and I are both dressed in sweaters, gloves, and knitted hats to stay warm. By tomorrow there will be twelve inches of snow taking over Vanmer; a blizzard of sorts working its way down from Canada. For now, we enjoy the comfortable day together, its fresh air, rare seasonal sun, and each other’s company to the fullest.

  Unsurprising to me, she accepts Ben’s marriage proposal, happy to have him back in her life. Zoe, I realize, deserves someone like Ben, and the two will make a great couple, for as long as they wish to be together. More unsurprising news to me is how she still adores my ex-roommate, even if he’s mortal and makes mistakes. She truly loves the man with her body, heart, and soul. And nothing, I believe, can separate the pair.

  An upbeat revelation occurs to me during our walk. What has transpired between Zoe and me is forgotten. She has forgiven me for my naughty doings with Ben and I have become a better friend to her. Ben and I are no longer jumping in the sack together, which we have both agreed to, and Zoe is building her trust again for the model, growing day by day in their relationship. All has worked out well for the three of us, overcoming our battles, uniting together in the end.

  By the end of our walk, she leaves me cheerful, elated, and exhausted. Again, our conversation is lengthy, never dull, and quite detailed, but most appealing. Topics of interest today entail Ben’s proposal, Zoe’s students, how she is gaining weight, a sale at Macy’s, a beef stew she is attempting to master, and her lack of energy to wear make up lately.

  Following our walk, she finds her Mazda in the nearby parking lot. She kisses me on my cheek before she leaves and whispers into my right ear, “I love you as a friend. I will always love you, no matter what kind of difficulties we share in this relationship. I just want you to know that, Sebastian.”

  I provide her with a little squeeze, kiss her neck, and let her exit from my world again, but know deep in my heart that she will return again as my dearest lifelong friend, always.

  From her car, Zoe waves goodbye and returns to her happy life with Ben, finding love again and the man of her dreams—everything she has always wanted, coupled again in various ways.

  * * * *

  My Colorado is parked next to the play swings and a set of oak trees in Talon Park. While opening the driver’s door, I hear my name being called out from the set of trees and look up.

  Jory steps out. He sports a wool coat, Timberland boots, and a wool scarf, which is snug around his throat, prepared for the upcoming snow storm that will inevitably halt the city’s activity for a day or two. His hands are stuffed into his pockets to stay warm. A nervous smile is delicately spread over his handsome and chiseled face as he nods his head.

  My heart races within my chest. I can’t remember the last time I’ve seen him. He looks thinner now with a very short haircut. My hands begin to shake and my knees wobble. I think to myself, He’s found me. I don’t know why, but he has. Maybe he’s been looking for me for a while now.

  I close the Colorado’s door, step around the vehicle to its front bumper, and stand still, waiting for whatever he has to say. What’s going to happen between us? What do I exactly want to happen? Jory despises me. I’ve lied to him, betrayed his love for me, and just about turned into the raunchiest human being on the planet while dating him. I don’t deserve this moment in time, his presence.

  “Sebastian,” he says my name across the twenty feet that separates us. “Can I talk to you?”

  I nod my head, embarrassed to be seen by him, knowing deep in my heart that I never should have betrayed him. What kind of fool was I? What the hell was I think
ing when I decided to sleep with Ben behind his back? How selfish could I be?

  Jory closes the space between us, facing me.

  I swear, he has tears in his eyes, which are all red and glassy. His cheeks are just as red, probably cold. The man shivers where he stands, perhaps nervous because of this meeting, unsure of how I will respond to his approach.

  “Jory,” I whisper his name. “How are you?”

  “I’m not doing so great,” he replies in a somber tone. A tear falls out of his left eye and rolls down and over a cheek.

  My heart falls to my knees. Why is he so upset? And why is he crying? What has happened in his life that is so horrible? How can I help him? The problem is, I don’t know what to do or say if he does need help, particularly after how badly I have treated him. Shame causes me to feel this way. So, I keep my distance, hold myself together, and simply ask, “What is it, Jory? What’s going on?”

  “You,” he whispers, sniffling, shedding tears.

  I hold my ground, although I begin to break down inside, becoming an emotional wreck, melting because of his sadness and tears. “What about me?”

  In one fell swoop he lunges toward me, bawling. His arms wrap about my body, compresses me against his wool-covered chest, and he whimpers into my ear, “I love you, Sebastian Rook. I thought I could get over you, but can’t. I tried to see other guys and…that was a mess. Then there was the night at The Appaloosa, which was a total flop, because I saw you…and I realized that I loved you, and couldn’t get over you, and didn’t want to let you go.”

  I cry now, unable to hold my composure together. Tears roll down and over my cheeks, falling to my chin. I shutter against his massive body and whisper, “I hurt you, Jory, and you can’t have me. No one deserves to be treated the way I treated you. My lies were despicable. My relationship with Ben behind your back was purely selfish. My behavior was unacceptable and ruthless. Run away from while you can. Try to find someone better than me. Mr. Perfect is out there.”

  He kisses me long, hard, and passionately. Jory sweeps me to another world, place, planet…somewhere. When he finally pulls out of the kiss, still having tears fall down and over his rosy-red cheeks, he explains, “I don’t care about any of that. I forgive you. We can grow together again. I can get over it. You are my Mr. Perfect. I just want you back in my life. I want all of you. Every mistake you make. Every smile you put on my face. Every heartbeat you give me. I need you in my life because I love you. I’ll always love you, no matter what kind of problems we face together. I need you in my life and at my side. I need…I need to love you more, everyday, whatever I can get out of you. What do you think of that, Sebastian? Tell me exactly what you think of that. I need to know if you will have me back. Here and now. Just me.”

  My response is simple. I gently move my lips to his lips, seal us together, close my eyes, allow him to squeeze me in his hulking arms, and think, This is real. My second chance with him. I love him, too. No more sadness. Bliss is here.

  Chapter 40: I Was Hoping You Would Say That

  Not even a half hour later we are naked inside my apartment, standing chest to chest by the foyer’s steel door. Our clothes are in a pile at our feet. The temperature inside the room is a bit brisk and our nipples are hard. I feel goose bumps on my chest and Jory’s fur-lined abs are warm as I snuggle against him, keeping cozy and safe.

  “You’re freezing,” he whispers, dotting a kiss to my neck.

  “Not with you here.”

  “I should have been here sooner. I just needed to find the balls to confront you about my feelings for you.”

  “Well, here you are Now, what are you going to do about it?”

  I’m pushed down to my knees on the foyer’s mat next to the door. Jory spins around, spreads his muscular legs, bends over, and instructs, “Lube me up with your tongue. I’ve been dying for you to ride me.”

  And so this is carried out with Jory. His request becomes my service as I plant palms on his rump, pull open his hole, and dart my tongue inside his most sensual part. Continuous darting turns into chaotic lapping, which causes the quarterback to moan and groan in front of me while hanging onto his ankles. I listen to his prosaic sounds as he enjoys my tongue-tour. At one point, he whimpers, totally lost under my mouth’s care. I lap and lick and dive my tongue into his opening, pull away for just a few seconds, and proceed with the adventure again.

  What transpires between us is nothing less than hungry elation. Boners rise like steel structures between our legs. I take my right hand and find his balls between his stern legs. A gentle squeeze is applied, one smooth yank, and he moans in front of me, “Use your cock in me. I can’t wait for it any longer.”

  The mere thought of compressing my weight against his bottom and jolting to and fro drives me wild. With speed, a condom and lube are retrieved from the night stand inside my bedroom and I return to his side in the foyer. Again, we kiss and hug by the front door, overjoyed to be together after our falling out. And again, he spins around, bends over, and says, “Do your thing, Sebastian. I want to feel you inside me.”

  After smearing some lube against his core, I direct the tip of my latex-covered shaft into his center. Jory lets out a soft whimper of delight. “More. Put more of it inside me.”

  Following his needy instruction, I slide four inches into his rump, rest them inside, hold his hips with both palms, and whisper, “I’m pushing the rest in, Jory. Ready or not, here they come.”

  The remaining four inches of my solid wanker slip into his middle, causing the jock to growl with satisfaction. To my surprise, blowing me away, he pulls his weight forward, backs into my beef, pulls forward again with a quick and steady motion, and rides my extension of protein.

  We move together, back and forth, enjoying the friction between our connected bodies. Tight ass and firm tool work in a perpetual manner. Sweat is built between our bodies as we heave for breath. Embraced by our rushed movement, we blend with deep satisfaction, groaning and murmuring, building our orgasms. And together we glide to and fro, sealed passionately by our intimate embrace.

  Jory is the first to come. He reaches between his legs with his left hand, palms his pole with fingers, and begins to rotate its excess skin in a north and south movement. Following a three-minute tug-fest and rump-romp with my cock, he can no longer hold his load in. The all-star player for our city cries, “Here it comes, Sebastian,” and spirals cream all over the foyer’s tile floor, squirting his rod like a hose, draining it completely.

  Knowing that he explodes with gratification only pivots me into my own combustible state. While clamping his hips with my palms, rapid thrusting is continued on his hub. I pump speedily inside him, pull out, and pump inside him again. A sweaty tempo is found with heavy breathing. What follows is nothing less than the most ardent orgasm I have ever felt. Shivers of elation rock my torso. I vibrate behind him in constant movement, feeling rapturous energy charge throughout my center. While gritting my teeth, ready to burst, reaching my point of eruption, I pull out of Jory’s behind, rip the condom off, drop it to the tile floor, and tell him to spin around.

  He decides to finish me off, being a gentleman. Facing me, locking his lips to my lips, his hands find the shaft between my sweaty thighs and he begins to jostle it with firm tugs. Cordially he enters my mouth with his tongue while manipulating the meat to blow.

  Following a minute of his handy pleasure, he pulls away from my face, beams a seductive smile, and instructs, “Shoot it on my chest. I want to wear your juice.”

  My hands lock with the slab of upright meat between my throbbing legs as I begin continuous strokes with some heavy breathing. I bolt my hips upward, glide the beef into my palms, fall away, and glide into it again. Sweat bubbles form across my brow and line my torso. I pant crazily, enjoying the heated ride, and feel a sweep of erotic ripples move throughout my torso. One hip-thrust turns into a dozen, and I build a fine cadence with my own body.

  Jory becomes a cheerleader in front of me. He rea
ches out with his fingers and gently pinches my solid nipples. Twists are applied with tender application, sending more ripples of bliss throughout my torso. He provides his adorable smile, and adds, “Fire it off. I’m ready for it.”

  I murmur, “Almost,” through grinding teeth, feel a final lapse of blissful energy flood along my flesh, and know I’m about to blow my wad. On cue, feeling as if heaven opens and welcomes me inside its glorious surroundings, a geyser of semen sprays out of my rod and splats against his hairy torso. Lines of the white gunk stick to his sweaty abs and puckered navel. A soft sounding whimper escapes my mouth as I release the pent flood, relishing the moment of a timely and needed discharge.

  * * * *

  Post-connection, our chests stick together in the foyer. We dramatically kiss on the foyer’s mat, holding each other in our arms. The kiss lasts for more than a minute, richly accompanied with tongues and saliva.

  Sealed here with Jory, I feel safe in the quarterback’s arms again. Everything seems right for me…us. All the planets in our lives are lined up correctly, and the sun begins to feed us with energy once again, allowing us to grow. Clinging to him, unable to release him, I say, “Jory, I didn’t expect you to find me. I thought you hated me after what I did to you.”

  “Zoe…she talked to me a few days ago. She said I had to find you again, that I needed you in my life. She noticed I was going mad and …I need to know if we can work out our differences. I know it sounds so cliché, but I believe everyone deserves a second chance.”

  I share a chuckle, thinking of the past half hour and connection with him. “I think we just accomplished that together.”

  He brushes the tip of his nose against mine. “Did you miss my skin, Sebastian?”