by Jeff Erno
It wasn’t until later that morning that his body began to ache. He felt sore all over, and by the time five o’clock rolled around, he didn’t think he could move. Thank God for sweet Benjy. He truly had become Oliver’s motivator. In the tub, with his eyes closed, he allowed himself to relive the night before. It had been amazing, a dream come true. Sharing such intimacy with a guy as awesome as Benjy had always been something he’d imagined but in a very impersonal way. It was sort of like dreaming about winning the lottery or becoming famous. It was nice to pretend, but he never imagined he’d experience it, at least not without having to pay a prostitute.
And Benjy was anything but a hooker. He was sexy, though. And smart, compassionate, funny. He represented everything Oliver had always valued in a partner. After a few minutes of relaxation, he pushed himself up and dried off with the blanket towel Benjy had laid out for him. Crap, he hadn’t brought his clothes in from the bedroom. He couldn’t put back on the work clothes he’d just discarded. Maybe he should call for Benjy and ask him to bring him his robe.
He stood for a moment in front of the vanity, examining his reflection. After combing his hair, he lifted one arm and flexed. It was so silly of him. Why was he doing this? He nearly laughed at himself, but as he stared, his smile began to fade. Viewing himself like this, seeing only the upper part of his body, he didn’t look so bad. He actually had kind of a sculpted chest already. His pectorals were certainly more defined than Benjy’s. And he did have biceps already. He’d already begun losing some of the fat on his arms, and his skin felt a little looser. He reached up with one hand as he pumped his muscle into a knot. Oh yeah, it was solid.
The problem, though, was his odd pear-shaped torso. His entire midsection reminded him of Fred Flintstone. Strangely, the soreness he felt in his abs assured him that the roll of flab that hadn’t yet disappeared merely covered something much more appealing beneath. What if the trainer and the doctor were right? What if, a few months from now, that fat was gone? What would he look like? He’d be a whole new person.
He smiled as he recalled Benjy’s words. He’d said Oliver wasn’t fat. He wanted to scoff, but he knew how sincerely Benjy had spoken. He truly didn’t see Oliver as a big fat blob. Well, soon he wouldn’t be. Soon he’d be that new man the doctor had promised. In a few months, he’d be a better, even more appealing lover for Benjy.
He took a deep breath and turned toward the door. He’d just do it. He’d just march right out there, wearing nothing but a towel. Chances were Benjy wouldn’t see him anyway. He’d be busy in the kitchen, “tidying up.” As he swung the door open, he stopped dead in his tracks.
Benjy stood on the other side of the doorframe, arm raised as if ready to knock. “Oh! Sorry.” Benjy laughed, then slowly lowered his arm. He gulped and stared directly at the nearly naked body in front of him. “Oliver… um, how was your, um, bath?”
On impulse, he wanted to slam the door shut, but he froze. He looked down at the wide eyes in front of him, and unlike the foursome of gym bunnies that morning, he didn’t see disgust. He saw… desire?
“I forgot my robe.”
“Oh.” Benjy’s gaze did not stray from Oliver’s chest. “Want me to go get it….” His voice trailed off, then he added in a whisper, “For you?”
“No, no. It’s okay. I’ll get dressed in my bedroom.”
Benjy’s head snapped upward as he looked quickly into Oliver’s face. “Okay, cool. I’m keeping the food warm in the oven. I’ll go get it ready.”
Oliver nodded as Benjy slowly backed away, catching one last glance before he scurried to the kitchen. In the bedroom, he got dressed, slipping on a comfortable tee and shorts. Socked-footed, he padded back down the hallway and found Benjy in the kitchen, setting the table. “Wow, this looks like a new home.”
Benjy tilted his head to the side, smiling sheepishly. “Hope you don’t mind me cleaning up a bit.”
“How’d you have time to get both the kitchen and living room so tidy?”
“I guess I just worked my magic.”
Oliver stepped closer, reaching out to take hold of Benjy and pull him in close. “I don’t deserve you,” he whispered, then kissed him squarely on the lips.
Benjy, who was holding silverware at the time, wrapped his arms around Oliver and hugged with care. “You smell so yummy.”
“It’s called Irish Spring. It’s just soap.”
“Mmm. Well, I want to taste every inch of you.” As he gazed into Oliver’s eyes, he seemed sincere.
Oliver cleared his throat, not sure how to respond. “Um, I’ve already tasted you, and trust me, you’re delicious.”
Benjy sighed, dropping his arms at his side. “You’re making this very difficult. I want to just skip dinner and go straight to dessert.”
Oliver laughed as he took hold of the kitchen chair next to him and pulled it out. “Then I guess we better eat. I’m starving.”
“I didn’t even think about it. Maybe you’d rather eat in the living room. We could watch a movie or play Overwatch.”
Oliver slid into the chair, glancing in Benjy’s direction. “No, this is fine. This is better. You and me.” He held out his hand to Benjy, who took hold of it as he slid into his own chair. “Thanks for drawing my bath, for cleaning my house, for….”
“I hardly even cleaned. I just tidied up a bit.” He handed Oliver his silverware. “You hardly ate any lunch. I think you can afford to indulge a little tonight. Take as much rice as you want.”
Oliver chuckled. “I’ve gotten used to smaller portions. You know what they say? Nothing tastes even half as good as being slim feels.”
With raised eyebrows, Benjy nodded. “I get it, but I’ve been slim all my life, and it’s overrated. Ollie, you know I support you 100 percent, but if you never lost another ounce, I’d be fine with that. I like you exactly as you are.”
Oliver scooped a small portion of white rice onto his plate, then added a generous serving of vegetable stir-fry. “You want me to be happy, right?”
“Of course, which is why I said I support you 100 percent. And I also understand your desire to be healthy. I just wonder, though, if a daily workout schedule where you’re pushing yourself to this degree is actually healthy in the long run. I read online that all those people who exercised their asses off for that show Biggest Loser just turned around and gained back all their weight after the show.”
“Because they didn’t maintain it. They went back to their unhealthy eating habits. Benjy, I’ve changed my whole lifestyle. I haven’t eaten any crap in the last six months.”
He nodded as he loaded up his own plate, taking a considerably larger portion of rice than Oliver. “But they had those poor people exercising for eight hours a day, sometimes more. And they fed them hardly anything. As a result, their metabolisms crashed. That article said in order to maintain their new weight, they’d have to stick strictly to an eight-hundred-calorie daily diet. It just wasn’t possible, which was why they all gained back their weight. I just think you should check around. Find out if this means you’re going to have to work out every single day into infinity to stay skinny.”
Oliver scowled, somewhat annoyed. Was Benjy raining on his parade, pissing in his Cheerios? Why couldn’t he just be supportive? “Well, this trainer’s the same dude who worked with my doctor. I think he knows what he’s doing.”
“Please don’t think I’m questioning you. Like I said, I support you all the way.”
“Do you?” He set his fork on the side of his plate and picked up his water glass.
“Ollie, you know I do.”
They ate in silence for a few moments until Oliver had at last allowed the surge of adrenaline and defensiveness to wash through him. “You’re right. You really have been totally supportive.”
“I promise, I won’t say another word about it.” Benjy looked up at him. “I’m sorry. Will you forgive me?”
“Don’t be a butthead. There’s nothing to forgive.” Oliver smiled and reached ov
er to playfully ruffle Benjy’s mop of hair.
Benjy grinned affectionately. “Cool. I still get to give you a massage, ya know. You promised.”
Under the table, Oliver’s shorts began to tent. The thought of Benjy’s hands all over him sent a ripple of excitement through his body that traveled straight to his groin. He shoveled a forkful of rice into his mouth without comment. Gulping, he picked up his water glass again and nodded.
How was it that Benjy made him feel like he was in ninth grade again? The thought of touching him and being touched by him excited Oliver, and that anticipation made him both aroused and nervous. His heartbeat quickened and his palms began to sweat. He could hardly concentrate on anything but what he hoped was going to happen, and his ravaging appetite suddenly disappeared. He pushed his plate away before picking up his glass once more and at last drained it completely of its content.
“You okay? Want more water?”
He shook his head. “I’m… uh, full.”
Benjy stared in disbelief at his plate, then looked into Oliver’s eyes. “Ollie, no way. You hardly ate anything, and you were starving.”
“I might eat more later.”
“Do you need to lie down?” His look of genuine concern was almost enough to make Oliver feel guilty, but then again, Benjy was the one who was doing this to him. He reached over the table and took hold of Benjy’s hand.
“Let’s go lie down.”
“But I’m not—” He stopped midsentence, and Oliver noticed the glint in his eyes. “I can finish up later.” He smiled and slid to his feet.
Oliver rose from his chair, still clinging to Benjy’s hand, and together they walked down the hallway to his bedroom. Once inside, Oliver pulled Benjy into a hug and fiercely kissed him. Benjy’s leg brushed against him, pressing into the silky basketball shorts. The smooth fabric rubbed against Oliver’s inner thigh as Benjy’s leg pressed into his throbbing erection.
Oliver slowly backed out of the kiss but continued to look at Benjy, who now stood on tiptoe, arms draped around Oliver’s neck.
“Please take your shirt off for me so I can give you your massage.”
“You said I didn’t have to.”
“I’ve already seen you, though. And I liked it.” Benjy grinned.
“Really?”
Benjy nodded. He let go of Oliver’s neck and reached down to grasp the tail of his T-shirt. Oliver stood there, his heart racing like a locomotive, and allowed Benjy to peel the shirt upward—slowly, oh so slowly, pushing it up to Oliver’s chin. Oliver raised his arms and took a step back, then bent forward, allowing Benjy the chance to pull it the rest of the way over his head. As Oliver straightened his posture to stand before his lover, Benjy’s palms were already pressed flat across his chest, his fingers trailing back and forth.
“Oh, Oliver.” His breathy voice nearly caused Oliver’s knees to buckle. He took a step back, toward the bed. Benjy moved closer. Another step. Closer again. Finally, Oliver lowered himself onto the mattress as Benjy moved between his outstretched legs, and for once Benjy towered over him. “This time,” he whispered, “it’s my turn. I get to pleasure you.”
Benjy took hold of Oliver’s head and held it with both hands as he kissed him deep and passionate. He pulled away only long enough to slide his lips down to Oliver’s neck. Oliver tossed his head back as he slid his hands around Benjy’s slender frame and caressed his back through the fabric of Benjy’s work shirt. Benjy kissed and sucked Oliver’s neck, which felt more amazing than Oliver had ever imagined it possibly could. He moaned, resisting the urge to squeeze Benjy tight. The sensation both tickled and aroused him, and his hard-on now throbbed mercilessly.
Benjy pushed him backward, not forcefully, but with grace and patience, a gentle urging. As Oliver pressed his back against the comforter, he realized the bed had been made, and he never took the time in the morning to make it. Benjy had even gone so far as to plan that. He’d made up the bed while Oliver was in the bathroom.
Benjy stepped back, allowing Oliver the chance to lift his legs and situate himself against the pillow. Oliver twisted his body on the bed, changing the angle in which he was lying, and Benjy lowered himself to sit beside him. With his hands now on Oliver’s chest, he gently massaged, working his fingers into the tender flesh, and oh did it ever feel wonderful.
Oliver moaned and closed his eyes. “Benjy, will you please…?”
“Anything.”
Oliver opened his eyes and looked at him. “Take off your clothes?”
“I thought we agreed. I get to—”
“I want to feel your body next to my skin.”
Benjy’s radiant smile warmed Oliver’s heart. He nodded and began unbuttoning his dress shirt. He pulled it off and tossed it carelessly onto the floor. His smooth, tight abdominals didn’t even press into the waistband of his dress pants, not even in his seated position. God, that tight body was so fucking sexy. He slid to a kneeling position and unbuttoned his pants, then peeled them back before stepping off the bed and sliding the pants down his thighs. He backed up just a bit, allowing Oliver to take in the sight of his entire body. The smooth, formfitting briefs fit him like a Speedo, accentuating the impressive bulge he was packing. Oliver reached for him, trying to graze his package with his fingertips but couldn’t quite reach. Benjy giggled and grabbed the waistband. Slowly and in strip-tease fashion, he eased them downward, at first revealing only a portion of his swollen cock. When Oliver moaned in frustration, Benjy tugged them the rest of the way off, exposing his raging hard-on. It sprang up, ready for action.
“Benjy, I have to…. Please let me—”
Benjy shook his head, laughing. “Nope. No touchy for you. We have a deal.”
“I don’t remember agreeing to this.”
Benjy slid back onto the bed and tucked one leg beneath his butt. He used one hand to gently caress Oliver’s midsection. “Mmm, mmm.” He leaned forward and kissed Oliver’s pectoral, the one closest to him. After kissing, he pressed his lips against the nipple and sucked, then darted his tongue against it.
“Jesus!” Oliver bucked on the mattress, squirming frantically as he reached for Benjy out of pure reflex.
Benjy resisted, pushing back Oliver’s arms as he continued to tantalize the sensitive nipple.
“You call that a fucking massage?”
Finally, Benjy pulled away and sat upright. He turned to direct his attention to the area below Oliver’s waist. “I think I see something that needs massaging.”
“Benjy, oh my God. You know I won’t last long.”
He shrugged. “Who says we can only do it once? If you come too soon, I’ll just have to go a second round.” He pressed his fingers against the silk shorts, instantly locating Oliver’s bulge. “Oh wow.” He smiled as he turned to look into Oliver’s eyes. His own sparkled with excitement as he raised his eyebrows and licked his lips. “It ain’t little.”
People always assumed fat dudes had tiny penises, and probably in most cases it was true. At least it appeared that way because they had so many rolls of flab, and the length of their manhood seemed to be eclipsed by their huge bellies. He’d seen some photos of guys like that while looking at porn in the chubby chaser section. He hated it. He despised the stereotype, and those guys grossed him out. But wasn’t that who he was himself? Wasn’t he just another one of those big flat blobs?
“Ollie, look at me!” Benjy snapped his fingers in front of Oliver’s face. “You weren’t with me for a few seconds. You were spacing, and I don’t think I want to know what you were fantasizing about.”
He’d lost his arousal, and as he looked once more at Benjy, all the insecurity he’d managed to suppress suddenly returned in full force. “This was a mistake,” he whispered. “I can’t—”
Before he could move to push himself up from the mattress, Benjy leaned forward and placed both palms against his chest. “No, Oliver! You’re not moving. Not till you tell me what just happened.”
“I know what I look
like. I know I’m… hideous.”
“Ollie, I know what you look like too. I’m fucking looking at you! And you are not hideous. Far from it. Let me decide what I like and what I don’t. Okay?” His fingers trailed softly down the center of Oliver’s torso, all the way to his navel. “So far, everything I’ve seen and touched has been amazing, far better than I’d even imagined it would be.”
Oliver pushed himself up on the mattress, propping his upper body with his elbows so he could see the entirety of his body, including his rounded tummy. No, it wasn’t ripped. It wasn’t completely flat with an identifiable six-pack. But as Benjy had earlier stated, it wasn’t nearly as noticeable in this reclined position. And it sure as fuck was smaller than it had been in a very long time.
To his amazement, from this vantage point, he could actually see below his waist. He hadn’t even tried lately to look. He’d gotten so used to avoidance. Even when he used the restroom, he didn’t look down at himself. There’d been no point in trying because his fat stomach had always been in the way.
But not now. For the first time since middle school, he could actually see the area of his body that Benjy now touched ever so delicately. A surge of excitement jolted through him and his cock again sprang to life, beginning to swell right before his eyes. Benjy rubbed the growing bulge through the fabric, his eyes wide with anticipation.
Without further warning, Benjy slid his hand smoothly beneath the waistband of Oliver’s shorts. Oliver moaned as Benjy grabbed hold of his erection. The soft caress of Benjy’s palm and fingers felt so very different than Oliver’s own hand—the only one to previously have touched him so intimately. Oliver gasped, closing his eyes for a couple seconds while tossing back his head.
“Benjy.” He didn’t even recognize the sultry whisper of his own voice. “Oh God, Benjy, that feels… amazing.”
Benjy slid down on the mattress, agilely repositioning himself on his knees, between Oliver’s thighs. Oliver spread his legs a bit, and couldn’t help but feel awkward in the exposed position. He still didn’t have his pants off yet, and as Benjy started to tug down against the waistband, he nearly panicked again. Keeping his eyes locked on Benjy’s face, he thrust his pelvis upward enough to allow Benjy space to peel down his shorts.