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The following morning (Saturday), I return to the play space to do a little cleanup. I find a note has been pushed beneath the door.
Jake and guys, it begins. Thank you for being so welcoming to me last night. You guys are terrific! Jake, can you give me a call some time? I’d like some advice about what I’m going to do next. Thanks, C.J. followed by your phone number.
I immediately send you a text, figuring that I don’t want to call in the middle of a fight with Jenny. You respond by text about ten minutes later, just as I’m finishing cleaning the bathroom. You ask if you can see me, and I invite you to drop by.
I meet you at the door with a hug. You look like someone who didn’t get much sleep. We sit on one of the couches.
“How are you holding up?” I ask, tentatively.
“I’m fine, considering,” you reply. “Jenny had already packed all of my clothing into garbage bags by the time I got home. I don’t have a lot of other stuff in the apartment, since she was already living there when I moved in.”
“Well, that’s something,” I say. “At least you won’t have to hire movers.”
“No,” you say. “I’ve never had a lot of stuff, just the basics. It was how I was brought up.”
You continue, “My home life was totally fucked up. Presents were forbidden, so I didn’t have much in the way of toys. No dressy clothes; everything was hand-me-downs from my older brother or my cousins. I was the second of five children, three boys and two girls. I was barely able to make friends in school, and definitely couldn’t have them over or go to their homes. Only other people in our church were permitted to be ‘friends’.”
“My father was very strict. If I did anything he didn’t like, I’d get a whipping with his belt. I’m pretty sure he hit my mother regularly. My older brother beat me up often, and never got in trouble for it. But if I tried to tell on him, my father would whip me for being a tattle-tale.”
“One time, my brother caught me masturbating and told my father. My father ordered me to show him what I had been doing. He sat in a chair while I stood in front of him, completely naked. My brother stood behind him to ‘verify’ that this is what I was caught doing. Afterward, I got one of the worst beatings ever. My brother did nothing but laugh. I just shut down at that point.”
“The best thing I ever did was take up long-distance running in high school. I didn’t even tell my parents I was on the cross-country team. But with my teammates, I got to make actual friends who weren’t religious zealots. I started to see that there was more to the world than the awful isolation that was my family life.”
“When I was 18, I was free. I walked out of the family home for the last time without saying anything to any of them. I enrolled in community college, got a job in the bookstore, and made lots of friends. I tasted alcohol for the first time. I smoked pot for the first time. I masturbated all the time. I had sex with women, quite a few of them, actually. I finally became a real, normal, grown-up person, or as close to ‘normal’ as I could be.”
“I have never spoken to any members of my family since I left,” you conclude. “They’re dead to me, and I presume I’m dead to them. I will never have anything to do with them again.”
I put my arms around you without saying a word. I’m practically in tears, touched by the fact that you confided in me.
“So there’s no issue with me dumping Jenny,” you continue. “It’s easy for me to leave toxic people in my past.”
I finally say something. “How can we help you get out of there?”
“Do you know of anyone who has some room where I can crash for a few days?”
“I think I can put you up for a few days at least. My roommate isn’t around a lot, and I doubt he’ll have a problem with you spending a few nights on the living room couch. He’s been talking about moving in with his girlfriend, so I may have a more long-term spot for you.”
You hug me tightly. “That would be awesome!”
“Give me a couple of hours, and I’ll get stuff ready at my apartment, then I’ll come get you. Do you need more time to pack anything else?”
“Nah. I may have a few CDs or other things, but that should fit into one box as long as she doesn’t put up a fight. Other than that, my clothes fit into about five garbage bags.”
“Okay, text me when you’re ready,” I say as we walk out of the play space.
——-
My roommate Daryl is home when I get back to the apartment. I tell him that a friend of mine will be crashing with us for a few days thanks to a breakup with his awful girlfriend. “Fine with me,” he says, in his typical three-word sentence.
Daryl is a nice guy, but we don’t have a lot in common and rarely have conversations of any substance. But he’s neat, is a good cook, and pays his part of the rent and bills on time. He’s good looking, kinda my type, but definitely straight. Daryl knows I’m gay (a few loud tricks early in our co-residence erased any doubt he may have had), but he doesn’t mind walking istanbul travesti around the apartment naked in front of me, nor does he mind me walking around naked in front of him. He’s not a gym bunny, but he’s in decent shape, nice distribution of body hair, and a nice cock and balls. He’ll frequently go without shaving his face for several days, and I know he’d look great with a full, chestnut-brown beard.
Daryl has had a fairly steady girlfriend since shortly after he moved in, and she’s nice enough. Her name is Donna. She spends the night once in a while, and I hear them having sex, which she seems to enjoy, loudly. A couple of times I’ve run into him leaving his room while she was there, so I’ve seen his post-coital cock, glistening and distended and smelling of sweaty sex. It’s a good thing that I’ve always had regular fuck buddies or I might have tried to seduce him.
I go into the small living room of our apartment, and clear enough space so that you can use the couch as a bed. I clean up my room, making sure all my clothes were where they should be. I empty a couple of dresser drawers for you, and compact the clothes in my closet so that you’ll have space.
The kitchen and bathroom are sufficiently clean, so I didn’t have much to do there.
You text me a bit later letting me know you’re ready, and giving me the address of where to meet you.
I drive to your building, and find you waiting in front surrounded by a couple of boxes and garbage bags. We get all of it in the trunk and back seat without much effort. As we’re just finishing, a dark-haired woman emerges from the building. She was thin enough to make me think she could be anorexic, and her face is drawn in a tight grimace. “Is this the faggot you’re leaving me for, Clarence?” she snarls, pointing at me with a claw-like finger.
You ignore her question. “Goodbye, Jenny,” is all you say, as you get in the car. We drive away.
You breathe a sigh of relief as your life with Jenny fades in the rear view mirror.
It doesn’t take us long to get your stuff unloaded and hauled up to the apartment. Between the dresser drawers and closet space, most of your stuff is quickly put away. We sit on the couch in the living room, a.k.a. your bed.
“Clarence?” I ask, startling you.
“Yeah,” you reply, glumly. “Clarence Jeremiah, hence ‘C.J.'”
“Well, ‘C.J.’ suits you well,” I reply. “Let’s say it stands for ‘circle jerk,’ okay?”
“What’s a circle jerk?” you ask, innocently.
“Remember last night after your shower, when the four of us were sitting on the couches watching you jerk off?” You nod. “That’s a circle jerk. Basically a group of guys sitting around watching each other masturbating. Sometimes, there’s a competition to see who cums first, or who holds out the longest, or who shoots the furthest. It’s a common activity at boy scout camps, college dorms, and frat houses.”
“That was fun,” you reply. “I’ll definitely keep my nickname. I like it.”
At that moment, Daryl comes into the living room, stark naked. His cock and balls are hanging loose. I can smell his musky body across the room. “I’m gonna shower and then go to Donna’s” he says, vaguely, seemingly failing to notice you at all.
“Hey, Daryl, this is my friend C.J., who will be staying with us for a while. C.J., this is my roommate Daryl.”
Your mouth is hanging open. Daryl is scratching his balls absently, so it’s a little awkward when you stand to shake his hand. “Nice to meet you, Daryl,” you say, grasping his hand in yours.
“Yeah, nice to meet you too,” he responds distractedly. He turns to leave, letting out an audible fart as he leaves. “Ooops, sorry!” he says as he enters the bathroom and shuts the door.
You’re flummoxed. You sniff your fingers and catch the odor of his nutsack. I grab your hand so I can smell it too. It’s a wonderful masculine aroma.
“Damn, man!” you say, “he’s hot! You two ever fuck?”
“Nah,” I reply. “First off, he’s straight. Second, I’m generally reluctant to have sex with my roommates. Things can get really messy really fast.”
“I learned that with my junior year college roommate, who decided he “loved” me after we messed around a few times. Up until then, he was technically straight, though he never seemed to hang around any of the women. He got really jealous whenever I went out with any other guy. If I brought someone home, he would storm out of the room in a huff. It became so toxic that I couldn’t wait for the end of the year so I didn’t have to put up with him any more. After that, my rule was ‘no sex with roommates.'”
“Even temporary ones?” you ask, slyly.
I reach over and grab the bulge in front of your pants. Daryl has clearly made an impression on you. “Does this answer your question?”
I stand up, take your hand, and lead you into my bedroom. I shut the door and turn to face you. I take you into my arms, and you hug me tight. After a long kiss, I pull your shirt over your head. You istanbul travestileri haven’t showered yet, so you have a nice musky smell. I inhale your armpits. I tease your nipple with my tongue, making you quiver.
You pull my shirt off and run your fingers through my modest chest hair. I loosen your belt and unbutton your pants. You’re licking my armpit, tickling me with your beard, when your pants slip to the floor. Your cock strains against your briefs, a damp spot spreading quickly.
Without a word, I fall to my knees and nuzzle the front of your underwear. I can feel your dick throbbing through the thin material. I pull your shorts down, and your cock bursts forth. I take the time to look at it closely, every vein, every bump, your coronal ridge, your frenulum, your piss slit. I cup your balls in my hand, feeling their heft. I take your dick into my mouth, immediately pulling you into my throat. My nose is buried in your fragrant bush. You groan. I grab your buns as I start sucking your cock vigorously. In and out, in and out, speed and depth varying. You put your hands on my head to try to control my movements, but you aren’t completely successful. You don’t need to fuck my face for me to take you deep in my throat; I’m already doing that. You’re moaning loudly, occasionally gasping, “Yeah, Jake! Suck my cock!”
I feel your balls retracting into your body, and I know that you’re close to unloading into my mouth. Your vocalizations are becoming louder and more frenzied. I reach between your legs and push my index finger into your ass. That proves to be the magic button, and you start shooting stream after stream of hot semen down my throat.
You’ve just fallen back onto my bed when there’s a knock at my bedroom door. It’s Daryl. “I’m leaving now,” he says through the closed door. “You guys have fun in there!”
“We are,” I shout.
“Yeah, I could hear,” he says with a laugh. I hear the front door to our apartment shut firmly.
Your cock is taking its sweet time to soften. I stand up, take my pants off, revealing my stiff and dripping cock. I lean over you to kiss you, and our cocks kiss at the same time. There are still occasional post-orgasmic tremors emanating from your body.
We cuddle on my bed for a long time. I’m in no hurry to get my rocks off, and you’re still a bit worn out from last night, the move, and me trying to swallow your cock whole. My dick remains in a semi-erect state, bouncing a bit with my heartbeat, ready to be called into action at a moment’s notice. Well, it’s more likely to be a minute’s notice, but it’s going to happen.
After about a twenty minute rest, you come back to life. You reach over and grab my cock in your hand, gently stroking it. It responds favorably. You then move to put it in your mouth, and, just like that, the minute is up. My dick leaps when you take the head between your lips, running your tongue along my frenulum. You’ve clearly paid attention when I or my buddies have been sucking your dick, because you have picked up some great techniques. Your hand is stroking my hairy balls, which are drawn very close to my body, as is almost always the case other than when I’m asleep. One of my favorite things is to watch a bearded man sucking a cock; it’s even better when it’s my cock getting sucked.
Your hand moves to explore my taint, which is not as hairy as yours, but it’s not bad. Without taking my cock out of your mouth, you reach up with your index and middle fingers extended, and I know just what you want and why. I eagerly slather them with spit, spit that I know will go to good use lubricating my asshole.
You approach my hole very gently, taking the time to rub your fingers in circles around the pucker. Your middle finger slips easily into my hungry ass, and you finger fuck me while still sucking my cock. It’s soon joined by your index finger, and you make a beeline for my prostate. You hit it on the second try, and your reward is a mouthful of precum and a loud moan from my lips.
I know that you know what I want you to do next. You release my cock from your mouth, which you move into position. Your tongue alternately replaces and supplements your finger in probing my hole. Your moustache heightens the sensation, and soon I’m groaning so loudly that I suspect that the neighbors can hear. You grab my thick thighs and pull me onto your tongue, which I swear has made it all the way into my rectum.
“Just fuck me already, C.J.,” I plead while jacking my cock. “I want your cock inside me, now!”
You oblige, standing up and pushing my legs onto my shoulders. My asshole is exposed and spread and I can feel it glistening with our saliva. You gently rub the head of your cock against my pucker, and I can feel that you’re leaking precum. Finally, you ease the head of your cock through my sphincter, and I have you where I want you.
Your first few strokes are slow and deep. Gradually, you build up a head of steam until you’re fucking me like travesti istanbul a dog in heat. The head of your dick batters my prostate when you push in and when you pull back. My cock is leaking precum like crazy, and while it’s no longer hard (I often lose my erection when I’m getting fucked), I’m still stroking it like a madman.
I feel my orgasm rising from the depths of my gut, and my abdomen begins to contract rhythmically. Seemingly without warning, my semi-soft cock starts spraying cum. Since it’s not rigid, it acts more like a lawn sprinkler, and drops of cum fly in all directions.
The accompanying contractions have given you the sign of what’s about to happen. My ass is clamping down hard when you’ve reached the deepest point. To the extent I can see anything, I notice your bearded face twisting into an almost impossible expression of ecstasy.
I can feel your spasming cock in my spasming ass. You lean in to kiss me, and it thrills me to no end that I can taste and smell my cock and ass on your lips and moustache. When I was younger, that would have been enough to get me hard again, but those days are long gone. The frequent, adequate orgasms have been replaced by less-frequent but longer, deeper, more satisfying ones. I can live with that tradeoff. I may not be able to shoot a load across the room any more, but I don’t mind having to clean my chest and belly regularly instead.
Your softening cock slips out of my ass, and I can feel your copious load trickling out, gathering in a pool on my bedspread. Soon, moved into cuddling position again, me behind you with my arm gripping your chest tightly and my soft cock resting on the crack of your ass.
——-
Our nap lasts about an hour. When you jerk awake, I awake as well, glad to have you in my arms. I rub my face against your warm skin, and you settle into my arms with a sigh.
We take turns in the shower, you going first while I rustle up a spare towel for you. When you emerge, dripping wet, I’m transfixed by your sexy, modestly hairy body. I can’t help but watch you dry yourself, your dick and balls bouncing as you dry your hair. I want to grab you and ravish you again, but I know that we have a few errands to do.
I take my own long shower. Under some circumstances, I might have jerked myself off while in there, but that seems superfluous since I have a pretty strong sense that we’ll probably give it another go later this evening.
When I get out of the shower and leave the bathroom, I find that you’ve unloaded three of the garbage bags of your clothing and have been placing them neatly in the drawers I emptied for you in my dresser. “Two more to go,” you say, looking up at me with a grin. I can feel my cock stir just from the sight of your lovely bearded face with a broad smile.
Reluctantly, I get myself dressed and we head out to do a little shopping. We drive to the nearest big box store so you can get some toiletries and other necessities (like your own towels). I stop you from buying a razor, shaving gel, cologne, and deodorant. Toothbrush: check. Toothpaste: check. Comb: check. Sunscreen: check. Moisturizing skin cream: check. Pack of disposable enemas: check. Condoms and lube: check.
Given the last two items, I know that you’ll feel uncomfortable if I’m with you as you check out, so I wait for you on the other side of the checkout stand. We drop your bags in the trunk of my car and head to the supermarket conveniently located just a few storefronts down.
“The cupboard is pretty well stocked,” I say as we enter with a shopping cart. “But since I’m vegetarian, we should probably find some food that you like, along with a few staples.”
“I tried going vegan for a couple of months,” you reply, “but I really couldn’t give up bacon or cheese.”
“Yeah, I couldn’t give up cheese either, and bacon was a definite sacrifice, but the smell of raw meat and poultry (not to mention fish!) makes me queasy,” I reply. “Eggs, nuts, legumes and dairy are how I get my protein now. It’s worked for over ten years.”
Our cart loaded up with a week’s worth of food, we check out and head back to the apartment. I give you a rundown of the kitchen, show you where the dishes, glasses, silverware, and pots and pans are stored. I show you how the small dishwasher works. “Thanks, Jake,” you say, giving me a hug. “I can’t tell you how much it means that you’ve helped me out.”
You unpack the rest of your clothes and place your meager other possessions in the living room. A few books, a few CDs, a picture of your young self in track gear. You appear to be about sixteen, thin as a rail, longish hair, and a straggly moustache. “My father hated that moustache,” you tell me. “He kept telling me I looked like a hippie, whatever that is. When I reminded him that Jesus had long hair and a beard, I got a serious whipping for talking back. I couldn’t sit down for at least two days.”
“My brother constantly laughed at it and said it made me look like a fag. My mother, to the extent she noticed it, kept trying to wipe it off with a damp cloth. I guess I was starting to rebel at that point, because out of defiance, I kept it until I left the house.”
I trace your now-full beard and moustache with a finger. “It’s definitely filled in since then,” I say. You blush.
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