Reunited At A Reunion: A MM Second Chance Romance

by J. S. Morbius

  I’ve left my number on the bottom of this letter, just in case and I really hope to hear from you.

  Ian

  Smiling, Victor read the letter a couple of times before slipping it back inside the envelope, putting it back on the table and walking into the kitchen.

  After making a coffee, he went back to the front room, switched his PC on and loaded up his emails. He was waiting to hear back from a couple of new jobs, but there was nothing important in the files; just spam and junk. Deleting everything, he sat back in his chair and drank his coffee before finally getting up, walking back to the table and grabbing Ian’s letter.

  Reading through it once more, he took his mobile phone, stored the number at the bottom of the page into his contact list and then texted a short note. He sat back at his computer feeling fidgety with anticipation and hope that he’d soon hear back from Ian. Opening his company website he checked the diary, saw that his whole day was free and decided to take a wander down to the town to see, if anything there took his fancy.

  Sunday was the one day he didn’t really have to worry about anything and Victor usually liked to use the day to go shopping and have a look around as it was a lot quieter. Making sure he had his wallet, mobile phone and keys he walked out of the house and locked up behind him. As he strolled down the path, he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket and took it out. Fuck that was quick. Opening the text he wondered if Ian would be asking to meet up again. Only the text wasn’t from Ian. It was from the number he had texted, but unless Ian had suddenly forgotten about the night before, it definitely wasn’t him that had replied.

  Who is this? Who is Ian?

  Staring at the message Victor was confused. He had definitely entered the number that was written at the bottom of the letter correctly—or at least he thought he had. Turning on his heel, Victor rushed back into the house and grabbed the letter. Checking the number and comparing it to what he had typed into his phone, he noted the two looked identical. Typing a quick message Victor pressed send and sat down to wait for a reply, the letter clutched in his hand. Five minutes passed, then ten and Victor began to wonder, if he was going to receive a reply at all, when his phone went off again.

  I think you could have the wrong number pal.

  Victor stared at the nine words on the screen. If he hadn’t meant what he said, why write the letter? There is no need to pretend, he doesn’t know who I am. Pissed off, Victor threw the letter back on to the table, put his phone in his pocket and trotted back out into the street. If Ian didn’t want to know, then he wasn’t going to waste any time hoping he would change his mind, Victor decided.

  Twenty minutes later Victor found himself sitting in the same bar that he had been in the night before—the bar where he met Ian. He ordered a double Jack Daniels, then another. After downing a couple of drinks Victor decided he might as well not let the situation with Ian get him down, he was not wasting his time getting upset over an old lover again. He stood up, threw some bills on the counter and stormed out of the bar, pissed off; with himself and Ian

  For the next hour or so he walked around the shops aimlessly, not really interested in buying anything, and unable to get Ian or the night they shared out of his head. Giving up on town he began to make his way back towards his home, when his phone went off again in his pocket. Expecting it to be someone from work, with a problem, he took it from his pocket and looked at the screen. Seeing an unrecognized number, he shrugged, opened the message and began to read.

  Victor, I am assuming that you either didn’t find my note with my number on or you aren’t interested. I just think it would have been nice for you to let me know one way or the other.

  Ian

  A huge smile crossing his face at the realization of what had happened, Victor hurriedly typed a message, explaining that he had tried to message but somehow got the wrong number. He hit send and waited with baited breath for the reply. Almost instantly his phone went off again and he read the message.

  If that’s the case, I know where you live and I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.

  Ian.

  Victor looked at the time. Ian is going to be at my house in fifteen minutes he thought excitedly. He started to run, realizing that normally it would take him at least twenty minutes from where he was. Victor arrived home just in time to see a dark car pull up outside. Sprinting up the street, he saw Ian climb out and head up the path to the apartment.

  Just as Ian turned around to leave Victor reached the gate, his heart feeling like it was going to burst from his chest. Breathless, unable to speak, he looked at Ian and grinned.

  “You better make sure I have your number saved correctly,” Victor managed to say once he regained his breath, and then started up the path towards his lover.

  “I really thought that last night was just going to be a one-off.” Ian said, his voice full of hushed emotion.

  “So did I when you weren’t there as I woke up. And then when I managed to get the number wrong, I really thought it was you pretending not to know me.”

  “I would never do that Vic,” Ian said stepping towards him. “Now that I have found you, I never want to let you go again.”

  “Don’t worry, I won’t let you.”

  The two of them stared at each other for only a second before throwing their arms around each other and beginning to kiss passionately on the doorstep.

  Eventually Ian pulled away and took Victor’s hand, a smile crossing on his lips. “I think we better get inside before the neighbors complain,” he said. “Don’t you?”

  Turn the page for more from JS Morbius...

  A Taste of Freed from the Chains of Deceit

  Jason Morley is a man, who, for as long as he's been alive, has been living a lie. Even though he knew deep down that he was a gay male, he tried to convince himself he was straight, or at the very least bisexual. Although he'd had many relationships with women, it was only when thinking of the men of his fantasies he was able to perform. His deception ate at him.

  A mysterious message appears in his inbox on a dating site, a message he had longed to receive but never thought he would, and his journey toward his true sexuality begins.

  Wade Childs was the man who had sent the message. Like Jason, Wade was afraid to admit he was gay. Throwing caution to the wind in the hope of finally finding 'the one', the two men arranged to go on a date.

  What followed for Jason was a week of uncertainty, nervousness, trepidation, and, as he prepared himself for his ultimate challenge, a whole new world of self-love discovery.

  Could Jason really free himself from the chains of deceit that had bound him his entire life? Will he be able to embrace this his true self, true sexuality, in the pursuit of a real and happy future? Or, will he be trapped forever in a life he doesn't want to live, too scared to admit the truth to his family and friends...himself?

  Chapter One

  For years I'd tried to hide the fact I was gay, even going so far as to sleep with numerous women, but deep down I'd always known. The only way I could get hard, and enjoy the act of sexual intercourse with a woman, was by thinking of all the hot men I'd spent hours staring at over the Internet. And, it was down to one day on the Internet I finally found the courage to admit my sexuality.

  I'd been lurking on gay, and even transsexual, chat sites for as long as I could remember. Lurking, not talking; just looking at pictures of hot bodies, hard cocks and tight asses, stroking my hard cock as I did, when, totally out of the blue, I received a message.

  Hi handsome

  They were the only two words, there wasn’t even a picture, and at first I thought it was one of my mates winding me up, having somehow found out the secret I wouldn’t even admit to myself.

  At first, I just stared at the two words, fear holding me immobile in its grasp, and too scared to respond. Closing my inbox, I stood up and walked away from the computer, yet those two words wouldn’t leave my mind. The questions began to surface and flow through my thoughts like wild
fire. What if it isn’t a wind-up? What if whoever sent it is genuine, and this is just the chance I’ve been waiting for?

  Glancing back to the screen glowing brightly at me from across the room, I hesitated, wondering what would happen if I responded to the anonymous message. Lost in the thoughts of possibly meeting someone over the Internet, I stared back at the computer screen the image of the hot, naked, blonde Adonis on the screen, his cock shaved and hard, staring back at me, smiling, teasing and goading me back to the computer. I was unable to resist the look in his eye and the perceived innuendo in his body language.

  Slowly, I walked back across the room, the hardness of my cock pushing against the material of my trousers. Once I sat down, I re-opened the message, the hesitation and fear I’d felt before making me very nervous. I read the two words of the message over and over. Before I knew it, I found myself typing, responding to the message left for me.

  Hi

  Hitting send, and holding my breath, I waited a single brief moment before I panicked. What the fuck am I doing? I reached out to flip the power switch, blowing out the breath in my lungs in a rush. Before I could shut down the computer, though, another message appeared.

  Hi, thought you were ignoring me. Sorry if I shocked you with my message.

  No, it’s okay. I mean, yes, I was shocked but... I typed rapidly, my fingers dancing over the keyboard, the words coming out before I had a chance to really think about what I was writing.

  Hope you don’t mind me messaging you. The mysterious person typed. It’s just, after seeing your profile pic, I felt I had to get to know you. Odd, I know, but something wouldn’t let me walk away and close down my computer before I’d taken a chance. I mean, I've nothing to lose, right? I figured the worst that could happen would be you telling me to bugger off, right?

  I couldn’t believe what I was reading. The picture I'd used was a self-shot taken one night when I was drunk, and showed me standing in front of a mirror, fully naked, my hand wrapped around the shaft of my hard cock. I'd meant to change it numerous times, but had never got around to taking a sensible one, and good pictures of me were as rare as rocking horse shit; they just didn’t exist.

  My name’s Wade, by the way. The next message pinged through before I had a chance to thank him for liking my picture.

  Curiosity nagged at my insides and I began to type. I needed to know more.

  Hi Wade, it’s great to meet you. How come you haven’t got a real profile pic? I mean, I assume that isn’t really you, is it?

  No, it’s not me. And, because I am not as brave as you for one thing, he responded. For another, I don’t rate myself that much, to be honest.

  I’d love to see a picture of you. I’d much prefer to have an idea who I'm talking to. For all I know, you could be anyone.

  Okay, I guess so. Give me five minutes, your email address, and I’ll send you one, but you have to promise you’ll never show anyone else.

  You can trust me. Promise. I typed in the information and then sat back in my chair, my imagination running wild. Excitement made my hands shake and blood rush through my body. I wondered what he really looked like. Was he like the hot, muscle-bound model I’d been viewing earlier, or, like me – fit but not much to look at?

  Okay, I’ll be back soon.

  For what felt like hours I sat there, staring at my computer, with nothing happening, and I began to assume Wade, or whoever he was, had either gotten cold feet or realized his little game was up and had gone offline. Then, surprisingly, I received notification of a new email. Staring at the message, I noticed it came with a number of attachments. I let my finger hover over the mouse, apprehension and doubt still nagging at me, before clicking and opening the message.

  This is me. I hope the pictures don’t scare you off.

  I began to open the images, very curious now what this man looked like.

  The first picture was a fully clothed body shot, showing a well-built male, maybe ten years younger than myself, smartly dressed in jeans and a t-shirt. If that really was Wade, I didn't know why he was so embarrassed about his looks. Okay, so he wasn’t a Hollywood film star, but then, neither was I. He appeared to be an average guy who looked after himself pretty well. Looking to be about the same height as me, give or take an inch, he was muscular but not overly so, had short, blonde hair, and an inkling of a tattoo peeking out from the right sleeve of his t-shirt. In my opinion, this guy certainly didn’t look bad at all. I was impressed, so far.

  Opening the second picture I was confronted by a topless image of Wade, his pecs and abs finely toned, and the tattoo on his arm clearly visible now. The tattoo was a tribal image with red in between the black line work, and it looked fantastic. What the fuck’s wrong with this guy?? He is damn gorgeous.

  Swiftly I began to open the remaining pictures, stopping just before the last one, and taking in the images before me. Wade would have had no problems finding someone if he had just posted one of the pictures he had shared with me here. Taking a deep breath, I hovered the mouse pointer over the final image, hoping this one would reveal everything. I closed my eyes and clicked.

  Slowly, I let out the breath I'd sucked in, opened my eyes and found myself staring at a fully naked photo of this man, and felt my cock twitch inside my trousers. Every inch of Wade was there for me to see, yet my eyes could only focus on one part; the hard cock that was standing thick and proudly upward, the swollen purple head glistening with pre-cum in the light.

  I was still staring, imagining my lips wrapped around his cock, when my computer beeped to let me know I had received yet another message.

  I hope the pics haven’t put you off getting to know me.

  My mind whirled. Put me off getting to know him? No way, not a chance. If anything, the photos intrigued me so much more, and I was anxious to get to know this random messenger, and soon. 'Are you fucking mad?' I wanted to type, 'Those pictures almost made me cum without touching myself.'

  Instead, I quickly wrote a message, complimenting him on his looks, his body and his impressive cock. I told him I would love to get to know him a hell of a lot better. I was still very nervous, wondering if there really were something wrong with this guy that had him single and so obviously unaware of his good looks. But, I realized if I didn’t throw caution to the wind, I would never know. I wanted to know, badly.

  I’d like that as well, Wade replied. For the next couple of hours we chatted together, learning as much about each other as we could. After a few hours, Wade told me he had to go and get ready for work but messaged at the end of it, What I would really like, though, is to meet you in person, maybe on the weekend, and go for a drink.

  I’d love to, I sent back, drawing up the courage to take this chance that had seemed to just drop into my lap. Shall we say, Saturday night?

  Saturday is perfect. See you then. Talk before then I hope, though.

  Definitely, I wrote back, and then signed off.

  I sat back in my chair, breathing heavily, wondering what the hell had just happened. How on earth had Wade and I ever managed to hook up like that? It was weird; we had so much in common and seemed perfect for one another. After some additional contemplation, I decided to just accept it and be happy I now had a date with a very sexy man for Saturday night. It was certainly a dream come true, and I was determined to make the best of it.

  As it was only Monday, I had all week to get myself looking the best I could for my date, and I was determined it would be the best night I’d ever had. I also firmly decided it would be the night I finally lost my anal cherry to a man. I just hoped the week didn’t drag, like every other week had seemed to lately. As I stared at his naked images, I also hoped they wouldn’t be all I ever saw of him unclothed.

  I really want him to be the one, I thought as I released my hard cock from my trousers and began to masturbate slowly. With the images of Wade and his hard cock before me, I began to imagine how it would feel to have him behind me, forcing his hardness into my tight, virgin hole a
nd unexpectedly I began to panic. The only thing I'd ever had in my ass was my middle finger, and that had hurt enough to begin with. Wade’s cock looked to be even bigger than my seven and a half inches. I was afraid there was no way he would be able to enter me, even if he used a whole bottle of lubrication, yet I was still determined he would be the one. Conflicted thoughts and emotions fluttered through my mind. I had to come to terms with this, it would happen. There had to be a way to get that man’s dick inside my tight hole, right?

  Pushing aside the thoughts of the potential pain, I began imagining the scene, trying to picture the two of us together. I could see myself on my knees with my ass in the air, Wade gripping my hips, struggling to force his hardness into my virgin rectum. I stroked my hardness even faster, the idea of feeling his hardness inside me outweighing everything else for the moment. . Then, as I pictured his cock finally entering me, tears trailing down my face, but a look of pure heaven upon my intense features, I felt my cock twitch in my hand and the first stream of thick, milky-colored liquid erupted and all over my shirt. The image still fresh in my mind, I milked every drop of seed from my body.

  Still panting, and completely drained now, I removed the soiled shirt, turned off my computer and headed upstairs to get changed. I'd figured out what I needed to do while sitting and staring at Wade’s pictures as I masturbated. As much as I wanted to continue looking at that gorgeous body, it wasn’t going to help. I needed to go shopping, and I knew exactly the shop I needed to visit.

  About The Author

  Julez S. Morbius is the pseudonym of an engaged father to nine children, four of his own and five stepchildren. He is also partially disabled, having been born with a neurological condition that has caused his nervous system to deteriorate over the years and finds writing to be the way to express his feelings, and fantasies.