“Who could this be?” he whispered, asking himself and the door. “I’m not expecting anyone. And Ad went home. No reason for him to come by at this hour of the night.”
Before he opened the door, he looked at the clock in the living room. Almost midnight. Almost tomorrow.
Late, he thought. No one should be coming over at this hour.
Then he turned the brass knob on the door, pulled it open, and changed his life from that night forward, permanently.
* * * *
“Come in, Colby Blue,” Burke told the man, unable from stop smiling, glowing inside with unexplained heat.
Colby stepped into the house. He dripped with rainwater from head to toes. The throw rug beneath him had darkened with the liquid. Still beautiful and chiseled, his face was wet, and the T-shirt covering his chest clung to his muscles, outlining every curve and bump. Exhaustingly handsome. Sexy for all the right reasons.
He looks like a superhero, Burke thought again, closing the door behind the man. Someone with extraordinary and superhuman powers. Captain American. Superman. Unstoppable. Unbearably handsome. And he smells like summer grass and rain.
Colby brushed his right palm over his head, pushing water off and away from his military cut. He blinked a few times, studying Burke in his underwear. “I know it’s late and I shouldn’t be here, but…”
He needs a favor, Burke thought. He’s here for money, advice, or to ask if I can housesit for him as he travels somewhere like Paris, Rome, or Florence. He’s dropped in to use me and…
“…I’ve got to get something off my chest. Something that’s been on my mind and driving me mad for hours…days now, which concerns you, Burke.”
“Me?”
Direct and to the point. “Yes, you.”
Wet. Military cut. Colby showing up at such a late hour. Those sparkling green eyes. The man’s wet and chiseled chest.
Confused, unsure of what was happening around him, Burke held up a finger. “Colby, hold on. Give me a few seconds.” Then he bolted out of the foyer/living room area, up to the second floor.
It took Burke just a few seconds to retrieve a cotton towel from the bathroom and return to the foyer/living room area. Colby had already removed his shirt. The T-shirt had turned into a wet ball in the man’s right hand, which he dropped to the foyer’s floor.
“Thanks for the towel,” Colby said, reaching for the cotton.
Burke watched Colby slowly drag the towel over one solid pec, then the other. He moved the cotton fabric along his nicely constructed abs and over both shoulders. Then the guy wiped down his back, flexing every muscle in his torso, showing off one underarm area, then the other.
Had Burke known his mouth hung open, he would have immediately closed it or spun around, concealing his state of visual pleasure. Instead, he kept gawking at his guest, growing excited, semi-hard in his boxer-briefs.
When Colby finished drying his chest off, Burke said, “I can dry your shirt and jeans if you’d like. You don’t have to go home wet tonight.”
Colby nodded. He kicked off his Italian loafers and unbuttoned his jeans. He pushed the denim down and slipped out one leg, then the other.
To Burke’s surprise, the man wasn’t wearing any underwear. A limp and uncut dick, with two inches of girth, hung between Colby’s legs. Plus, the man’s balls hung down approximately six inches behind his cock, in a droopy sack.
Awestruck by the sight, Burke whispered, “Jesus. You’re beautiful.”
“God’s gifts. What can I say?” Colby used the cotton towel, wrapping it around his middle, hiding his personal belongings. He met Burke’s gaze. “I can’t stop thinking about this afternoon. The hug. The kiss. It’s driving me crazy. I can’t get your visit out of my head. I can’t get you out of my head. I don’t even know if I want to. None of it made any sense to me this evening when you visited me, Burke. And now I don’t know what to make of it all. Really, I don’t.”
Bewildered, Burke shrugged. “I don’t know either. It happened so suddenly. You completely caught me off guard. And I haven’t stopped thinking about it.” Burke wanted to tug the towel off his new friend and drop it to the floor, hungry for the man. Instead, on his best behavior, containing his hunger for Colby Blue, he asked, “What do you want from me, Colby? Tell me, or be on your way. It’s your choice.”
“You, Burke Spire. I want you. And I’m hoping you want me, too.”
Burke watched Colby loosen the towel at his waist. The material fell to the floor. Before he realized it, Burke was caught in Colby’s arms, snug against his naked chest.
“I want to kiss you.” Colby placed his lips against Burke’s, sealing the two men together.
Both men were hard, chest to chest, cock to cock, and kissed.
It was the same kiss shared between them as earlier…
Enlightening. Useful. Appealing. Sugary. Spine-clenching. The kiss blew Burke away, this way and that, creating an opening or fissure of sorts inside his heart that he couldn’t label or decipher, an abyss of lust, and a shapely funnel of tenderness. The kiss turned out to be the best he had ever shared with a man. The only kiss that had remotely felt important in his life, meant to be and purposeful.
* * * *
They made love over the living room sofa: Colby bent over, and Burke positioned behind him; Burke’s palms on the businessman’s waist; huffing and puffing and grunting and murmuring; Burke thrusting his weight forward and backward; Burke gently spanking Colby’s bottom, driving into the man while doing so; Colby riding his dick, pushing himself onto the erect mass, performing as a bottom, pulling away.
Burke realized Colby couldn’t get enough of his cock. Burke pounded Colby, riding his bottom, grinding, bucking, pulsing, shifting. He dug his fingertips into Colby’s skin, muscles, and bones. Colby yelled out obscenities, obviously pleasured by Burke’s action and…and…and…
They came. Burke inside the latex separating his dick from Colby’s interior. Colby against the back of the sofa, squirting his sticky and gluey man-load all over the fabric while literally howling like an animal. Quivering together. Groaning. Grinding their teeth. Coming. Emptying their bodies of their pent loads.
Spent.
Drained.
Exhausted.
They kissed again after their gooey romp within the living room, chest to chest, nipples and stomachs combined, dicks still touching.
“Boyfriends,” Colby whispered, one word.
The only word that Burke wanted to hear.
Burke didn’t disagree, accepting the title. All smiles. Glowing.
* * * *
Beaming after sex.
“The scar near your lip, Burke. Tell me about that?” Colby’s sticky and sweat-covered chest heaved up and down as they leaned into the sofa’s cushions, their legs tangled together.
Burke chuckled. “I’ve always thought it ugly.”
“Not quite. It’s sexy as hell, if you want to know the truth. Tell me the story behind it.”
“It’s not the best tale, just so you know.”
Colby turned on his side, half laying and half seated on the sofa, and wrapped an around Burke’s side, his forearm sticky with ejaculation, the simple and romantic messes men sometimes create together during passionate intimacies.
“I’m sure I’ll be the judge of it. Spill your guts.”
“I was in college. Sophomore year. Drunk off my ass. I was so excited Keith Menserstein wanted to go on a date with me. I was rushing back to my dorm room and fell flat on my face. A piece of stone broke open my lip, and the scar appeared thereafter. Story over.”
“I love your scar, Mr. Spire. You wouldn’t be you without it.”
“You’re only saying that to have sex with me again, boyfriend.”
“You’re so smart,” Colby whispered.
He climbed on top of Burke, straddled the man, pressed his hard dick against Burke’s flat stomach, and started another round of sex between them, proving he was more than Burke’s friend, a boyfr
iend now, connected to the man’s heart and soul, perhaps unconditionally.
* * * *
June 21
Summer
Channing Park had just been waking up with a ball of golden-orange light on the horizon. Squirrels and chipmunks played along Fireside Trail, squeaking and tumbling in the green and woody blanket of the park’s thin forest. The morning’s temperature held at a solid eighty degrees, but by three that afternoon, it was supposed to sky-rocket to ninety-three degrees, seeping with hot humidity and unpleasantness.
With not a cloud in sight above the trees’ open canopy, Burke ran alongside his best friend through shards of light, huffing with Ad on their Saturday run. Both were shirtless because of the breathtaking weather and sported Nike running shorts and shoes.
Burke said to Ad, “Hand me your water. Mine’s empty.”
Ad slowed his run to a jog and then a walk. He passed his water bottle to Burke. “How much did you and Colby have to drink last night?”
“Sorry he’s not here with us this morning. I know you like him and get off on your chats with the guy. He had far too much drink, though,” Burke said, gulping water down, wishing he hadn’t had the seven whiskeys mixed with colas the night before. “The party his sister threw got out of hand. He’s sleeping his hangover off right now back at my A-frame.”
“When’s he moving in?”
“Soon. At least this is what he tells me. Maybe by August, we’ll be living together.”
“Do you believe him?”
“Of course. Colby’s the last honest guy on the planet.”
“So you two are hitting off rather well then, right?”
“Better than I ever imagined.”
“Are you in love with him, Burke?”
“I want to say no, but I’d be lying. I’ve fallen head over heels for the man. Everything about him. Irrepressibly. No one’s ever treated me like a prince, which is exactly what he does. It feels like I’m the number one priority in the guy’s life.” Burke passed the water bottle back to Ad.
Ad clipped the bottle to his waist. “I can tell. Your face is red, and it’s not from this run. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were blushing over Colby Blue.”
“For all the right reasons. Both in and out of bed. He’s making me happy, with his dick and heart. I couldn’t ask for anything more.”
They passed a sign reading Chipmunk Trail. Neither took the narrow pathway leading away from where Ad’s BMW sat in the park’s asphalt lot.
Ad told Burke, “Sounds like you found your Mr. Right.”
“I don’t want to kiss and tell, but I think you’re right.”
“What’s wrong with kissing and telling? I wouldn’t expect anything less from you, of course, since I’m your best, straight guy friend. You tell me everything in your life. Don’t stop now.”
Burke laughed, lightly punching Ad in his right shoulder. “So you want to hear all the gritty details about my boyfriend’s huge dick slipping inside my mouth and other places?”
Ad shook his head, laughing. “Okay. I get it. I only want to hear some of the kissing and telling. The abridged versions.”
“Just as I suspected. I’ll save all the naughty details for my memoir.”
“Which you’ll title Kiss and Tell, right?”
“Hell, yes. And I’ll dedicate it to you, Ad. Every page. Because it’s not anything you read.”
They both chuckled while continuing their travels along Fireside Trail. Happy. Best friends for life.
Burke wouldn’t have had it any other way.
* * * *
Burke followed Ad to Ad’s BMW, a sleek bullet the color of burgundy wine. Ad unlocked the vehicle.
“Hop in. I’ll give you a ride home.”
“It’s less than a mile from here. Thanks, but I’ll walk. I have some thinking to do.”
“It’ll save you time, though,” Ad said, standing behind the open driver’s door, ready to slip inside.
“I’m good, Ad. Thanks, though.”
“Talk later. Get home to your guy and have that raunchy sex you like so much.”
Burke watched his best friend get into the expensive car and listened to its engine purr when Ad started the vehicle. He waved when Ad drove off, heading back to his own life along the lake with Dina. Good things would come to surface for Ad, Burke knew; kind things only life had to offer during the most opportune situations, all with Dina’s help and love.
Burke thought about jogging back to his A-frame, but decided to take his time, realizing he wasn’t in a hurry. Instead, he walked along Scrowe Drive, made a right onto Pineland Avenue, and followed Pineland home. Medium-size houses decorated the avenue, most of which were probably filled with moderately happy families, and some of which housed two fathers and a baby, or two women and a handful of adopted toddlers. Truth told, Burke didn’t see any children in his life with Colby Blue at his side, at least not at its current stage, but maybe in the future.
He envisioned long and relaxing evenings with his lover, watching movies on a Friday evening, playing video games, and planning weekend trips to Niagara Falls, Philadelphia, Pittsburgh, and Put-in-Bay, Ohio. He also saw marriage in their near future, maybe not this year, but the next, something small and classy with a hint of masculine playfulness. And then they would decide where to live, though both would probably agree to shack up in Burke’s A-frame since it had a stunning view of Lake Erie. Burke glimpsed a happy-ever-after-life between them, man with man, in love and enjoying each other’s company for years to come. Decades, Burke hoped. Eternity, since his heart and soul felt sure Colby was the man of his dreams, his soul mate.
Burke’s cellphone buzzed inside his Nike running shorts. He saw the familiar name and phone number on its screen and couldn’t help but smile. He pressed a button on the screen and held the phone up to his left ear.
“Morning, soldier. How you feeling?”
“I have a problem.” Colby groaned, sounding alive and happy, somewhat playful.
“What kind of problem?” Burke knew the guy was fine, feeling it in the undertone of his lover’s voice.
“I have this hard dick between my legs, and it won’t go away. Anything you can do about it?”
Burke smirked and rolled his eyes, enjoying Colby’s humor. He teased back, “I think I know what to do with it. Can you hang in there for another fifteen minutes? I’m walking home from the park.”
“Don’t know. It may explode. What do you think I have? I’m not going to die, am I?”
A hearty laugh escaped Burke. “I’ll examine it when I get there.”
“Thank God.” Colby snickered. “Plus, I miss you, guy.”
Burke glowed inside, happy to be in love, finding Colby Blue when he did. “I miss you, too.”
“Hurry home for this cock, man. I can’t keep my load in forever.”
Their call ended, and Burke’s mind and heart raced with a million and one fireworks illuminating his world. While thinking of Colby, having fallen madly in love with the man, knowing they would spend decades together, his pace quickened.
Home, he thought. I’m going home and back to my man.
A good thought.
The best.
Happiness.
THE END
ABOUT R.W. CLINGER
R.W. Clinger is a resident of Pittsburgh. He has a degree in English from Point Park University of Pittsburgh. His writing entails gay human studies. His work includes Just a Boy, Skin Tour, Skin Artist, Soft on the Eyes, Pool Boy, The Last Pile of Leaves, The Weekender, Cutie Pie Must Die, Frat Brats, Panama Dan, Spoil Me So, The Shower Police, Splash Boys, and several stories with Starbooks Press. For three years he has held the position of managing editor for the literary magazine The Writer’s Post Journal. Visit him online at rwclinger.com.
ABOUT JMS BOOKS LLC
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