I'm still not quite sure how it happened. A year ago I was a happy man. I had a good job at high-tech firm whose name you'd recognize, with possibilities for advancement. I had a house in a nice neighborhood. I had an SUV that I'd splurged a bit to buy, but that I was making steady progress paying on. Most of all, I had a beautiful girl whom I loved. I was even toying with the idea of popping the question.
I still have everything except the girl. But my life will never be the same.
I guess I could blame the fact that I wanted to lose weight. I'd been working very hard and been under a lot of pressure to produce. Not only did I not have enough time to exercise, but my way of dealing with the stress had been to eat.
Patti, my girlfriend, was too nice to say anything. I noticed, though, when we went out to dinner, how she'd order a salad and a diet soda while I had an appetizer, entree, and dessert, washed down with beer and coffee. She'd always finish first and watch me eat.
I looked at her, with her honey-blond hair, brown eyes, flawless complexion, and curves all in the right places. Then I took a good look at me. It hit me that unless I got things under control fast I was going to become a fat slob. Already all my clothes, especially my pants, felt too tight. I also realized I was avoiding looking at myself in the full-length mirror in my bedroom when I got dressed after a shower.
It's ironic , but Patti was my main motivation to get into shape. I wanted to look good for her. So I bit the bullet and changed my eating habits. I gave up the Egg McMuffins and hash browns in favor of instant oatmeal and fresh fruit. I drank Slim-Fast for lunch and started eating sensible dinners, as the commercials love to say.
Well, darned if it didn't work. I started to drop some pounds. Then it really sank in. Thin and flabby was no better than fat and flabby. I was going to have to work out as well as diet. Okay. I had a bench and a set of free weights that I hadn't used since I was in college, dusty but intact.
I went to the local bookstore and bought a copy of Men's Health magazine, after studying the bare-chested cover model. That guy looked great and I wanted to look just like him. So I set to work, lifting, crunching, grunting and groaning, three times a week. At first I almost quit, I was so sore the next day. Little by little, I began to see results. My belly stopped hanging out over my belt and became flat and firm. I doubled the frequency of my ab workouts and to my delight, after a couple of months I began to notice ridges on my stomach, and that got me really fired up. I'd never had a six-pack even when I was younger. I took out several subscriptions to exercise magazines, started popping creatine pills, bought more equipment.
I got a real glow on one day when Patti snuggled up to me while we were walking down the street and said, "I love walking with you. I see other women look at you and me. I know they're wishing they could be me." I kissed her and put my arm tighter around her.
There was just one thing. It was great that other women were checking me out and that Patti was too secure to be jealous. I was kind of thrown, though, when I noticed that other men occasionally seemed to be doing the same thing. It hadn't occurred to me that I might attract the attention of gays and I didn't appreciate it. When I mentioned this to Patti she told me not to be so uptight. "Face it, you're a handsome guy, Sean darling," she said. I decided I could live with a few unwanted stares.
I spent hours reading the magazines I got, studying the pictures of the bodybuilders, trying to figure out how I could look more like them. They were so cut, so defined, and they filled every inch of the skimpy workout gear they wore. Little by little I realized I could wear that stuff too and not look ridiculous. One day I bought an International Male catalog. At home I turned the pages, looking at the models in the underwear and swimwear sections. They looked so hot wearing just the bare minimum. I thought about how it would feel to have only a thong or a posing strap on. Suddenly I realized that I was breathing fast, my heart was thudding, and my cock was halfway hard. A normal guy isn't supposed to think things like that. I shut the magazine and was about to pitch it in the trash, but something stopped me. I didn't look at it any more that evening, though. I put it at the bottom of one of my desk drawers and went to work out.
Despite my new muscles, I still was having trouble keeping the pounds off, and decided that I had to add regular aerobic workouts to my routine. There was a high school in my neighborhood that had a new running track and I started using it early in the morning before I went to work. Keeping this up turned out to be really hard. I hated getting up in the morning, especially with stiff legs from the last run. I struggled through a week or so and was about to quit. Saturday of that week dawned cool and foggy. I'd already decided to take Sunday off to give myself a break.
Usually this early I was alone on the track, but today there was another man already running when I arrived. He was wearing a white T-shirt and those shorts with the Texas flag pattern on the butt that look so stupid on most guys. Not on this guy, though. Truth to tell, he could have worn a burlap sack and still turned heads. Even from a distance I could tell he had the kind of body that could have been featured in the exercise mags. From the back his torso rose in a textbook V-shape from his small waist, his butt just slightly wider beneath, supported by strong legs. His calves bulged out as he ran. He had his fists lightly clenched at the ends of two massive arms.
I stared as he came back around toward me. His features were chiseled, his hair dark and wavy. His chest strained at the confines of his T-shirt. I tried not to look too obviously, but I couldn't miss the healthy size of the bulge in the front of his snugly fitting Texas-flag workout shorts.
To my surprise, the stranger raised one arm in a friendly wave and smiled, showing a set of white teeth that positively glowed in the gray light. "Morning," he called as he passed in front of me. I realized he was running much faster than I had thought at first. He made it look easy.
I raised a hand in response and ducked my head, my cheeks burning. Why did I suddenly feel like I was at my first dance or something? I quickly got on the track and began my run, forgetting that I hadn't stretched or warmed up. My muscles reminded me soon enough, though. I slowed my pace and resigned myself to being lapped by the other guy on the track. This wasn't a race, I reminded myself, but my male ego was still bruised.
Sure enough, the handsome man blew by me repeatedly as I doggedly did my laps. Maybe the fifth or sixth time he came up behind me, though, I heard his footfalls slow down, and then he was in step beside me.
"Mind if I join you for a bit?" he asked, smiling. After all that running he didn't even sound particularly winded.
I shrugged, much as I could shrug while jogging. "Sure, if you like. I'm not exactly going at your pace, am I?"
"I'm almost done. This is my cool down."
"Aw heck, you sure know how to make a guy feel small." He was using me as his post-workout pacer.
He laughed, and clapped me on the shoulder. "Don't mean to do that, buddy. Cheer up. You just got started, right? Trust me, you'll get better."
I looked at him. Maybe it was just oxygen debt but his presence was making me feel lightheaded. "Well, thanks for the vote of confidence." I stuck out my hand at him. "The name's Sean. Sean Mathews."
His grip was firm. "Barry McDaniel. You live around here, Sean?"
We did several more laps, keeping a pace at which we could exchange a word now and then. Barry lived only about a mile from my house. He worked for a communications firm in town. Soon I had done my couple of miles. We gradually slowed down until we were standing, panting, at the side of the track.
"That was one long cooldown. Thanks for keeping me company. You didn't have to do that."
"My pleasure absolutely," he said. "Much more fun to run with someone."
"Well," I said, "I'm not exactly on your level."
"You will be. Want to do it again?"
This took me by surprise. "Why would you want to? I'm a beginner compared to you."
Barry shook his head, smiling. "Doesn't matter. We can run separately and join up at the end, just like today. In a few weeks you'll be as fast as me anyway."
"Well, okay, if you're sure I won't cramp your style."
"You won't."
At the parking lot near the track Barry stopped in front of his car and shook my hand. "I usually don't come here this early on the weekend, but I'm sure glad I did today." He smiled. His eyes were bright blue, very different from Patti's warm brown ones. Suddenly I felt shy again.
"See you Monday morning," was all I could say.
So we met at the track on Monday, and on Tuesday. Tuesday night Patti and I went out to dinner and then to her apartment afterward. Things got hot and heavy and I ended up spending the night, which I hadn't planned on. The next morning I had to rush to get back to my house and change before I went to work. I thought of trying to contact Barry but I was running too late.
Thursday morning when I joined Barry at the track he said, "I missed you yesterday."
"Sorry," I said. "I had a hot date."
"A date."
"Yeah." I told him about Patti, how long we had been going together and how serious we were. When I was finished, I thought Barry might tell me about his social life, but he was quiet. As a matter of fact, he didn't have much to say about anything that morning. Probably I'd pissed him off by standing him up the day before.
We walked to our cars, silence still hanging over us. I turned to him. "Barry, sorry again about yesterday. There wasn't any way for me to get a hold of you."
He looked thoughtful. "That's true. Let me get you my card. It has my cell phone number on it."
He unlocked his front door and began rummaging in the glove compartment. I couldn't help noticing how his sweaty shorts stuck to his rear, outlining the cleft between his dimpled butt cheeks and the straps of the jock he wore underneath. Searching for something else to look at, my eye fell on a sticker he had on his rear bumper. It was a brightly colored rainbow flag.
Barry turned to me at that moment. "Here it is. Maybe you could give me yours too--"
He stopped as he saw what I was looking at. A small smile appeared on his face. "Do you still want this?" was all he said.
v I looked at him. It all added up--the sticker. How he wouldn't talk about his private life. And how great his body was. I had to think about this. It seemed rude to refuse, so I said, "Sure," and took the card from him, not meeting his eyes. "Listen, I'm late. Got to run, Barry." I hurried to get into my own car.
"Sean?" I looked up. "See you tomorrow?"
"Sure," I said, then got in and started the engine. I was all the way to the street before I expelled my breath in a long sigh.
After I got home from work that day, I thought some more about what had happened that morning. Finally I picked up my own cell phone, fished the card Barry had given me out of my wallet, and dialed his number. He answered after a couple of rings.
"Barry, this is Sean," I said.
"How are you doing?" His voice was friendly, neutral.
"Fine. Listen," I said, then stopped. I had no idea what I was going to say. I kept talking anyway.
"I just wanted to say--things are cool between us, right?"
"As far as I know. Why?"
"Well, I don't know." This wasn't going the way I expected, and I was floundering.
"Oh, I get it. You were calling to see whether I'd fallen on my sword because you'd discovered my dark secret. Is that it?" His voice was amused. I got defensive.
"All I wanted to say was it's not a problem with me."
"And your telling me every detail of your hot night with your woman is not a problem with me."
"Fine." We were silent for a moment.
"Sean?"
"What?"
"I'm just giving you a hard time. You're a nice guy. Thanks for calling."
"You're welcome." Somehow I felt good out of all proportion to the small compliment he had given me.
"And cute besides. See you tomorrow," he laughed, and cut the connection before I could say anything.
My face was burning. Why did he have this effect on me? I knew as I sat there, though, that I wanted more than anything to be out there on the track tomorrow, running beside him.
Things were fine after that. Barry encouraged me as I got into shape and was able to keep up with him better. I was keeping up my weight training program all this time as well, and felt really good about the way I looked.
The only problem in my life, oddly enough, was Patti. We usually got along so well that she caught me by surprise when she complained.
"I never see you any more. You're either at work or working out," she said.
"That's not true," I started to say, then thought about it. I was doing the weights pretty regularly every other day, and going running with Barry every weekday morning before work and on Saturday as well. It was a lot. But it was getting results. And I was doing it for her.
"And when we do get together, half the time you're falling asleep."
It was true that I'd caught myself yawning at dinner, because I'd gotten up early that morning to run. I guess our sex life had fallen off a bit too. I was thinking of bed these days as a place mainly to sleep. I had begged off spending the night at Patti's once or twice because I was just so tired.
"Sean, you've got to change your routine," she said one evening. I'd had a hard day and things had gotten kind of tense at dinner.
"You're so distant and preoccupied, and you won't tell me what's wrong." Her lip was trembling. "I can't go on like this."
I sighed. "There's nothing wrong." I found myself wishing it were morning and I was out on the track with Barry. My friendship with him seemed so simple compared to the difficulties I was running into with Patti.
I tried to tell Barry about what was going on a few mornings later. We had developed a routine where we would meet at the track, run on it for while, then take off down some of the neighborhood streets. The surrounding area was hilly and the changing terrain gave us a good challenge. By now I was running with him the whole time, though I accused him of deliberately slowing his pace so I could keep up. He denied it, smiling.
He ribbed me at first about "laying my heterosexual angst on him," as he put it, then was philosophical.
"She'll come around. Maybe you should take a few days off working out, just to smooth things over."
"But I don't want to. If I give in on this, she'll think she can run my life. What is it with women anyway?"
"I wouldn't know." He grinned, then added, "Count your blessings. At least you have a relationship to work on."
"So you don't have one? A relationship, I mean?" I asked, cautiously.
Barry turned his head and looked at me, and for a moment I thought I'd overstepped my bounds. "No," he said, and it seemed that was going to be the end of it.
We jogged in silence for a few minutes, then out of the blue he said, "He died a few years ago."
"Oh." I figured I knew what that probably meant. Then I said something really stupid. "Are you, like, all right?"
All of a sudden I was running alone. I looked back over my shoulder. Barry had stopped abruptly at the side of the road, his hands on his hips. I turned and jogged back to him, puzzled.
His eyes were steely with anger. "Yes, I'm all right. And even if I weren't, you can't catch it just by running next to someone." I stood, open-mouthed, then got mad myself. "I know that. I'm not stupid, Barry, just because I'm straight."
He glared at me a minute longer, then dropped his eyes. "You're right. I'm sorry, Sean."
By now my anger had dissipated, replaced by shame. "It's okay. I had no right to ask you that. Call it a draw?" I stuck out my hand.
I was relieved when he smiled and shook it. "Sure." He didn't let go when I expected him to. All of a sudden I was very conscious of his nearness, the heat and the clean smell of his sweat coming from his powerful body. I pulled my hand away.
"Maybe we should get back." I turned to go. For an instant I wasn't sure he was coming back with me, then I heard his steps behind me catching up.
We jogged back to the track in silence.
That night I tossed and turned in my bed for hours, unable to fall asleep. Finally I decided to help things along and jack off to relax. Lack of sex with Patti was making me tense. I wasn't sure why I hadn't felt that old charge with her lately. In one of our more heated recent quarrels she had even accused me of being unfaithful, then immediately and tearfully apologized. I took her in my arms and assured her of the truth--there was no other woman.
I reached under my bed and took out the small bottle of lubricant I kept there for just these occasions. I applied it to my cock and began the familiar, comforting rhythm of stroking it, slowing down when I got too aroused, wanting to make it last as long as I could. I tried to visualize Patti naked above me, riding my cock as she did sometimes when she was in an especially sensual mood.
I couldn't hold out long tonight--I was too horny. Soon my hand moved faster and faster until with ragged gasps I shot hot spurts onto my heaving belly. I lay there until my breathing returned to normal and the
had started to congeal, then I got up, wiped myself off and put on a pair of shorts. I slipped back underneath the covers and closed my eyes.
Shooting my wad had relaxed my body, but a nagging little worry tugged at my brain. As I'd rushed toward climax I'd thought about myself with Patti, slamming into her soft body, hearing her cry out with ecstasy. As the orgasm overtook me, though, the fantasy had suddenly vanished and other images had come flooding into my mind. I'd seen Barry, raising the hem of his soaked shirt as he wiped the sweat off his face after a run, giving me a glimpse of his hairy, muscled midsection. Another time, doing one of his stretches, he had bent over with his back to me, and the hem of his shorts had ridden up enough for me to see the strip of white elastic crossing his butt underneath. It was images of Barry in my mind's eye that had pushed me over the edge, drawing the hot out of me. It was a while yet before I finally fell asleep.
It was early March when Patti informed me that she would be gone the following week. Her younger sister would be on spring break from college and they had planned a trip to Arizona together. I acted surprised and hurt, but secretly I was relieved. Things hadn't improved between us and I thought that we could use some time apart.
Barry called me at the office the Friday she left. I was glad to hear his voice--despite our recent troubles, Patti and I were still very close and I was missing her already.
"I'm a free man for a week," I told him. "Let's make tomorrow's run a bit later--around eleven?"
"Sounds good to me," Barry replied. "It's supposed to be overcast, chance of rain, so it shouldn't be too hot."
The next day dawned not only overcast, but downright threatening. When we met at the track it looked like a storm was imminent.
About ten minutes before the end of our run our luck ran out. As we slowed to our cooldown pace spots of water appeared on the pavement around us, and I felt the drops on my head. In less than a minute the rain had turned into a steady downpour.
I turned to Barry. "What should we do?"
He shook his head. "We're wet already. It's not lightning. Why don't we just finish?"
"Might as well," I agreed.
So we kept going, and soon were both drenched to the skin. The air was warm and as long as were moving we weren't going to get chilled. A strange exhilaration took hold of me. It was fun, running in the rain with my friend. Some feeling or memory tugged at my mind but I couldn't quite get it to come into focus. I gave up after a while and concentrated on running. Finally we came back around to my block and I had an idea.
"We're near my house. Why don't you come in and we'll wait the rest of this out," I said to Barry.
"Thanks, that would be great."
"Let's go to the back door so we don't drip on the rug."
We headed up my driveway and around to the back of the house. I fumbled in my wet shorts for my keys. Now that we had stopped moving I was getting chilled, and my hands shook as I tried to unlock the door.
Finally we got in and stood in the middle of the kitchen floor, teeth chattering, jumping up and down, trying without success to get warm as puddles of water formed at our feet on the linoleum. An air-conditioned draft blew in an arctic blast around us.
"Shit, I'm fucking freezing."
"The bathroom's down the hall to the left. Get in a hot shower," I told Barry.
He looked at me. "You're shaking too. Want to join me?"
A fresh chill struck me at that moment and I shivered violently. "There isn't room for two in there. I'll go in the upstairs bathroom. I'll bring you something to put on. There should be a towel there. "
"Thanks." He disappeared down the hall, still dripping water. Now I had to do something to get warm. There were extra towels in a linen closet upstairs and I made a beeline for the stairs.
In the second-floor hallway I stripped off my soaking running clothes, heedless of the mess I was making. I pulled out piles of towels, took the largest one I could find and rubbed myself vigorously to get the circulation going again. No matter how much I tried I couldn't seem to get warm. My feet felt numb and my teeth chattered uncontrollably.
I knew the water heater in the house didn't have enough capacity to supply both showers with enough hot water at the same time. If I tried to use the shower in my own bathroom Barry's would get cold.
In a moment my feet were moving of their own accord down the stairs and toward the bathroom on the first floor. I paused at the door, hearing the sound of running water. I knocked loudly and walked in without waiting for an answer.
The first-floor shower was a stand-up compartment, encased in frosted glass. Barry's clothes and shoes were in a sodden heap on the floor. I saw him huddled underneath the steamy spray. He looked up, startled, when I banged on the door, and opened it.
"I... there isn't enough hot water for both showers," I began. Barry took in the situation at once. "You're going to catch pneumonia. Get in."
I swear I had no thoughts at that moment other than to get some warmth back into my body. I threw off the towel around my waist, stepped in and let the hot spray wash over me, throwing my head back and sighing as warmth began to creep in and vanquish the chill.
After a while I had to look at him. The compartment was small, built for a single person, and Barry stood only a foot or so away from me. I had never seen him naked before. His shoulders were wide, his pectoral muscles defined and symmetrical, topped with large, dark nipples and lightly furred with hair, matted against his skin at the moment by the water. The hair outlined the ridges on his stomach, and thickened as it descended toward his crotch. My eyes followed the stream of rushing water down his body, to the cut cock and dangling balls nestling in a thicket of dark hair, impressive even in repose. I thought of what his cock might look like hard.
I saw a hand, Barry's hand, take hold of the genitals at which I was staring. I raised my head and looked into my friend's smiling face. There was no way I could pretend I'd been looking elsewhere. I started to chatter, sounding ridiculous even to myself.
"Sorry to kick you out," I said. "I was just so cold."
He shook his head, still with that smile. "It's okay." I hoped he would get out, but he didn't leave.
"Do you need to get under the water again? Are you still cold?"
He shook his head again. His steady gaze sent a wave of heat flooding through my body that had nothing to do with the temperature of the water. To my appalled surprise I felt myself getting hard.
"Poor Sean," Barry said softly, barely audible above the sound of the rushing water. "Your teeth are still chattering," and with that he stepped forward and put his arms around me.
"What are you doing?" I stiffened and tried to push him away, but not for nothing was Barry built the way he was. He tightened his grip and I was trapped. My arms were pinned against my sides and the shower was too small for me to get any sort of leverage against his body. Besides, something strange was happening. The more I struggled the harder my cock became. I felt something else hard pressing against my stomach as well.
"Sean, Sean," Barry said, close to my ear. "Don't be scared. Let yourself go. You know you want to."
The futile struggle, the heat of the rushing water, the hardness of his body against mine--it all started to overwhelm me. Almost without willing it I sagged against him. In response, Barry relaxed his grip just enough for me to raise my arms. I felt my hands slide over his strong back and suddenly we were locked in a fierce embrace.
"Sean," Barry said again. His hands roved over my wet skin, caressing, then slipped between our bodies. I felt one hand grip my cock as he pressed his mouth to mine. No, my brain said, and I resisted for a moment, shaking my head back and forth, before I yielded. His tongue slipped in, not hesitant like Patti's when we made out, but demanding and urgent. I kissed him back, gripping his head as if to weld our mouths together.
We broke apart and Barry drew back, looking into my eyes. "You are so gorgeous." His face disappeared from view as he quickly knelt. I looked down just in time to see him grasp my cock and take it into his mouth.
Pleasure surged through me. I raised my head and let out a soft moan, which turned into a startled cry as the stream pelting down on us abruptly turned cold. The hot water had run out.
I turned and quickly twisted the knob to "off." Laughing and cursing, we climbed out of the shower and took our towels, drying each other off, deliberately being rough, grabbing each other's cocks and horsing around. Suddenly I stopped. We fell silent, panting.
"What is it, Sean?"
I stood, trying to grasp the enormity of the step I was on the edge of taking. I looked at my friend, naked, his hair damp, his expression quizzical. He was the only one to whom I could appeal for guidance.
"What am I doing?" I asked him.
Through all that's happened, I've held on to what Barry said next, because I think he meant it.
"You're doing what's right," he answered. When I stayed silent he raised a hand slowly and touched my face. I kissed his palm. We didn't let go of each other for the next couple of hours.
Try as I might, I can't forget that first time Barry and I made love. And I don't feel funny using that phrase, because that's what it was.
I still have everything except the girl. But my life will never be the same.
I guess I could blame the fact that I wanted to lose weight. I'd been working very hard and been under a lot of pressure to produce. Not only did I not have enough time to exercise, but my way of dealing with the stress had been to eat.
Patti, my girlfriend, was too nice to say anything. I noticed, though, when we went out to dinner, how she'd order a salad and a diet soda while I had an appetizer, entree, and dessert, washed down with beer and coffee. She'd always finish first and watch me eat.
I looked at her, with her honey-blond hair, brown eyes, flawless complexion, and curves all in the right places. Then I took a good look at me. It hit me that unless I got things under control fast I was going to become a fat slob. Already all my clothes, especially my pants, felt too tight. I also realized I was avoiding looking at myself in the full-length mirror in my bedroom when I got dressed after a shower.
It's ironic , but Patti was my main motivation to get into shape. I wanted to look good for her. So I bit the bullet and changed my eating habits. I gave up the Egg McMuffins and hash browns in favor of instant oatmeal and fresh fruit. I drank Slim-Fast for lunch and started eating sensible dinners, as the commercials love to say.
Well, darned if it didn't work. I started to drop some pounds. Then it really sank in. Thin and flabby was no better than fat and flabby. I was going to have to work out as well as diet. Okay. I had a bench and a set of free weights that I hadn't used since I was in college, dusty but intact.
I went to the local bookstore and bought a copy of Men's Health magazine, after studying the bare-chested cover model. That guy looked great and I wanted to look just like him. So I set to work, lifting, crunching, grunting and groaning, three times a week. At first I almost quit, I was so sore the next day. Little by little, I began to see results. My belly stopped hanging out over my belt and became flat and firm. I doubled the frequency of my ab workouts and to my delight, after a couple of months I began to notice ridges on my stomach, and that got me really fired up. I'd never had a six-pack even when I was younger. I took out several subscriptions to exercise magazines, started popping creatine pills, bought more equipment.
I got a real glow on one day when Patti snuggled up to me while we were walking down the street and said, "I love walking with you. I see other women look at you and me. I know they're wishing they could be me." I kissed her and put my arm tighter around her.
There was just one thing. It was great that other women were checking me out and that Patti was too secure to be jealous. I was kind of thrown, though, when I noticed that other men occasionally seemed to be doing the same thing. It hadn't occurred to me that I might attract the attention of gays and I didn't appreciate it. When I mentioned this to Patti she told me not to be so uptight. "Face it, you're a handsome guy, Sean darling," she said. I decided I could live with a few unwanted stares.
I spent hours reading the magazines I got, studying the pictures of the bodybuilders, trying to figure out how I could look more like them. They were so cut, so defined, and they filled every inch of the skimpy workout gear they wore. Little by little I realized I could wear that stuff too and not look ridiculous. One day I bought an International Male catalog. At home I turned the pages, looking at the models in the underwear and swimwear sections. They looked so hot wearing just the bare minimum. I thought about how it would feel to have only a thong or a posing strap on. Suddenly I realized that I was breathing fast, my heart was thudding, and my cock was halfway hard. A normal guy isn't supposed to think things like that. I shut the magazine and was about to pitch it in the trash, but something stopped me. I didn't look at it any more that evening, though. I put it at the bottom of one of my desk drawers and went to work out.
Despite my new muscles, I still was having trouble keeping the pounds off, and decided that I had to add regular aerobic workouts to my routine. There was a high school in my neighborhood that had a new running track and I started using it early in the morning before I went to work. Keeping this up turned out to be really hard. I hated getting up in the morning, especially with stiff legs from the last run. I struggled through a week or so and was about to quit. Saturday of that week dawned cool and foggy. I'd already decided to take Sunday off to give myself a break.
Usually this early I was alone on the track, but today there was another man already running when I arrived. He was wearing a white T-shirt and those shorts with the Texas flag pattern on the butt that look so stupid on most guys. Not on this guy, though. Truth to tell, he could have worn a burlap sack and still turned heads. Even from a distance I could tell he had the kind of body that could have been featured in the exercise mags. From the back his torso rose in a textbook V-shape from his small waist, his butt just slightly wider beneath, supported by strong legs. His calves bulged out as he ran. He had his fists lightly clenched at the ends of two massive arms.
I stared as he came back around toward me. His features were chiseled, his hair dark and wavy. His chest strained at the confines of his T-shirt. I tried not to look too obviously, but I couldn't miss the healthy size of the bulge in the front of his snugly fitting Texas-flag workout shorts.
To my surprise, the stranger raised one arm in a friendly wave and smiled, showing a set of white teeth that positively glowed in the gray light. "Morning," he called as he passed in front of me. I realized he was running much faster than I had thought at first. He made it look easy.
I raised a hand in response and ducked my head, my cheeks burning. Why did I suddenly feel like I was at my first dance or something? I quickly got on the track and began my run, forgetting that I hadn't stretched or warmed up. My muscles reminded me soon enough, though. I slowed my pace and resigned myself to being lapped by the other guy on the track. This wasn't a race, I reminded myself, but my male ego was still bruised.
Sure enough, the handsome man blew by me repeatedly as I doggedly did my laps. Maybe the fifth or sixth time he came up behind me, though, I heard his footfalls slow down, and then he was in step beside me.
"Mind if I join you for a bit?" he asked, smiling. After all that running he didn't even sound particularly winded.
I shrugged, much as I could shrug while jogging. "Sure, if you like. I'm not exactly going at your pace, am I?"
"I'm almost done. This is my cool down."
"Aw heck, you sure know how to make a guy feel small." He was using me as his post-workout pacer.
He laughed, and clapped me on the shoulder. "Don't mean to do that, buddy. Cheer up. You just got started, right? Trust me, you'll get better."
I looked at him. Maybe it was just oxygen debt but his presence was making me feel lightheaded. "Well, thanks for the vote of confidence." I stuck out my hand at him. "The name's Sean. Sean Mathews."
His grip was firm. "Barry McDaniel. You live around here, Sean?"
We did several more laps, keeping a pace at which we could exchange a word now and then. Barry lived only about a mile from my house. He worked for a communications firm in town. Soon I had done my couple of miles. We gradually slowed down until we were standing, panting, at the side of the track.
"That was one long cooldown. Thanks for keeping me company. You didn't have to do that."
"My pleasure absolutely," he said. "Much more fun to run with someone."
"Well," I said, "I'm not exactly on your level."
"You will be. Want to do it again?"
This took me by surprise. "Why would you want to? I'm a beginner compared to you."
Barry shook his head, smiling. "Doesn't matter. We can run separately and join up at the end, just like today. In a few weeks you'll be as fast as me anyway."
"Well, okay, if you're sure I won't cramp your style."
"You won't."
At the parking lot near the track Barry stopped in front of his car and shook my hand. "I usually don't come here this early on the weekend, but I'm sure glad I did today." He smiled. His eyes were bright blue, very different from Patti's warm brown ones. Suddenly I felt shy again.
"See you Monday morning," was all I could say.
So we met at the track on Monday, and on Tuesday. Tuesday night Patti and I went out to dinner and then to her apartment afterward. Things got hot and heavy and I ended up spending the night, which I hadn't planned on. The next morning I had to rush to get back to my house and change before I went to work. I thought of trying to contact Barry but I was running too late.
Thursday morning when I joined Barry at the track he said, "I missed you yesterday."
"Sorry," I said. "I had a hot date."
"A date."
"Yeah." I told him about Patti, how long we had been going together and how serious we were. When I was finished, I thought Barry might tell me about his social life, but he was quiet. As a matter of fact, he didn't have much to say about anything that morning. Probably I'd pissed him off by standing him up the day before.
We walked to our cars, silence still hanging over us. I turned to him. "Barry, sorry again about yesterday. There wasn't any way for me to get a hold of you."
He looked thoughtful. "That's true. Let me get you my card. It has my cell phone number on it."
He unlocked his front door and began rummaging in the glove compartment. I couldn't help noticing how his sweaty shorts stuck to his rear, outlining the cleft between his dimpled butt cheeks and the straps of the jock he wore underneath. Searching for something else to look at, my eye fell on a sticker he had on his rear bumper. It was a brightly colored rainbow flag.
Barry turned to me at that moment. "Here it is. Maybe you could give me yours too--"
He stopped as he saw what I was looking at. A small smile appeared on his face. "Do you still want this?" was all he said.
v I looked at him. It all added up--the sticker. How he wouldn't talk about his private life. And how great his body was. I had to think about this. It seemed rude to refuse, so I said, "Sure," and took the card from him, not meeting his eyes. "Listen, I'm late. Got to run, Barry." I hurried to get into my own car.
"Sean?" I looked up. "See you tomorrow?"
"Sure," I said, then got in and started the engine. I was all the way to the street before I expelled my breath in a long sigh.
After I got home from work that day, I thought some more about what had happened that morning. Finally I picked up my own cell phone, fished the card Barry had given me out of my wallet, and dialed his number. He answered after a couple of rings.
"Barry, this is Sean," I said.
"How are you doing?" His voice was friendly, neutral.
"Fine. Listen," I said, then stopped. I had no idea what I was going to say. I kept talking anyway.
"I just wanted to say--things are cool between us, right?"
"As far as I know. Why?"
"Well, I don't know." This wasn't going the way I expected, and I was floundering.
"Oh, I get it. You were calling to see whether I'd fallen on my sword because you'd discovered my dark secret. Is that it?" His voice was amused. I got defensive.
"All I wanted to say was it's not a problem with me."
"And your telling me every detail of your hot night with your woman is not a problem with me."
"Fine." We were silent for a moment.
"Sean?"
"What?"
"I'm just giving you a hard time. You're a nice guy. Thanks for calling."
"You're welcome." Somehow I felt good out of all proportion to the small compliment he had given me.
"And cute besides. See you tomorrow," he laughed, and cut the connection before I could say anything.
My face was burning. Why did he have this effect on me? I knew as I sat there, though, that I wanted more than anything to be out there on the track tomorrow, running beside him.
Things were fine after that. Barry encouraged me as I got into shape and was able to keep up with him better. I was keeping up my weight training program all this time as well, and felt really good about the way I looked.
The only problem in my life, oddly enough, was Patti. We usually got along so well that she caught me by surprise when she complained.
"I never see you any more. You're either at work or working out," she said.
"That's not true," I started to say, then thought about it. I was doing the weights pretty regularly every other day, and going running with Barry every weekday morning before work and on Saturday as well. It was a lot. But it was getting results. And I was doing it for her.
"And when we do get together, half the time you're falling asleep."
It was true that I'd caught myself yawning at dinner, because I'd gotten up early that morning to run. I guess our sex life had fallen off a bit too. I was thinking of bed these days as a place mainly to sleep. I had begged off spending the night at Patti's once or twice because I was just so tired.
"Sean, you've got to change your routine," she said one evening. I'd had a hard day and things had gotten kind of tense at dinner.
"You're so distant and preoccupied, and you won't tell me what's wrong." Her lip was trembling. "I can't go on like this."
I sighed. "There's nothing wrong." I found myself wishing it were morning and I was out on the track with Barry. My friendship with him seemed so simple compared to the difficulties I was running into with Patti.
I tried to tell Barry about what was going on a few mornings later. We had developed a routine where we would meet at the track, run on it for while, then take off down some of the neighborhood streets. The surrounding area was hilly and the changing terrain gave us a good challenge. By now I was running with him the whole time, though I accused him of deliberately slowing his pace so I could keep up. He denied it, smiling.
He ribbed me at first about "laying my heterosexual angst on him," as he put it, then was philosophical.
"She'll come around. Maybe you should take a few days off working out, just to smooth things over."
"But I don't want to. If I give in on this, she'll think she can run my life. What is it with women anyway?"
"I wouldn't know." He grinned, then added, "Count your blessings. At least you have a relationship to work on."
"So you don't have one? A relationship, I mean?" I asked, cautiously.
Barry turned his head and looked at me, and for a moment I thought I'd overstepped my bounds. "No," he said, and it seemed that was going to be the end of it.
We jogged in silence for a few minutes, then out of the blue he said, "He died a few years ago."
"Oh." I figured I knew what that probably meant. Then I said something really stupid. "Are you, like, all right?"
All of a sudden I was running alone. I looked back over my shoulder. Barry had stopped abruptly at the side of the road, his hands on his hips. I turned and jogged back to him, puzzled.
His eyes were steely with anger. "Yes, I'm all right. And even if I weren't, you can't catch it just by running next to someone." I stood, open-mouthed, then got mad myself. "I know that. I'm not stupid, Barry, just because I'm straight."
He glared at me a minute longer, then dropped his eyes. "You're right. I'm sorry, Sean."
By now my anger had dissipated, replaced by shame. "It's okay. I had no right to ask you that. Call it a draw?" I stuck out my hand.
I was relieved when he smiled and shook it. "Sure." He didn't let go when I expected him to. All of a sudden I was very conscious of his nearness, the heat and the clean smell of his sweat coming from his powerful body. I pulled my hand away.
"Maybe we should get back." I turned to go. For an instant I wasn't sure he was coming back with me, then I heard his steps behind me catching up.
We jogged back to the track in silence.
That night I tossed and turned in my bed for hours, unable to fall asleep. Finally I decided to help things along and jack off to relax. Lack of sex with Patti was making me tense. I wasn't sure why I hadn't felt that old charge with her lately. In one of our more heated recent quarrels she had even accused me of being unfaithful, then immediately and tearfully apologized. I took her in my arms and assured her of the truth--there was no other woman.
I reached under my bed and took out the small bottle of lubricant I kept there for just these occasions. I applied it to my cock and began the familiar, comforting rhythm of stroking it, slowing down when I got too aroused, wanting to make it last as long as I could. I tried to visualize Patti naked above me, riding my cock as she did sometimes when she was in an especially sensual mood.
I couldn't hold out long tonight--I was too horny. Soon my hand moved faster and faster until with ragged gasps I shot hot spurts onto my heaving belly. I lay there until my breathing returned to normal and the
had started to congeal, then I got up, wiped myself off and put on a pair of shorts. I slipped back underneath the covers and closed my eyes. Shooting my wad had relaxed my body, but a nagging little worry tugged at my brain. As I'd rushed toward climax I'd thought about myself with Patti, slamming into her soft body, hearing her cry out with ecstasy. As the orgasm overtook me, though, the fantasy had suddenly vanished and other images had come flooding into my mind. I'd seen Barry, raising the hem of his soaked shirt as he wiped the sweat off his face after a run, giving me a glimpse of his hairy, muscled midsection. Another time, doing one of his stretches, he had bent over with his back to me, and the hem of his shorts had ridden up enough for me to see the strip of white elastic crossing his butt underneath. It was images of Barry in my mind's eye that had pushed me over the edge, drawing the hot
out of me. It was a while yet before I finally fell asleep. It was early March when Patti informed me that she would be gone the following week. Her younger sister would be on spring break from college and they had planned a trip to Arizona together. I acted surprised and hurt, but secretly I was relieved. Things hadn't improved between us and I thought that we could use some time apart.
Barry called me at the office the Friday she left. I was glad to hear his voice--despite our recent troubles, Patti and I were still very close and I was missing her already.
"I'm a free man for a week," I told him. "Let's make tomorrow's run a bit later--around eleven?"
"Sounds good to me," Barry replied. "It's supposed to be overcast, chance of rain, so it shouldn't be too hot."
The next day dawned not only overcast, but downright threatening. When we met at the track it looked like a storm was imminent.
About ten minutes before the end of our run our luck ran out. As we slowed to our cooldown pace spots of water appeared on the pavement around us, and I felt the drops on my head. In less than a minute the rain had turned into a steady downpour.
I turned to Barry. "What should we do?"
He shook his head. "We're wet already. It's not lightning. Why don't we just finish?"
"Might as well," I agreed.
So we kept going, and soon were both drenched to the skin. The air was warm and as long as were moving we weren't going to get chilled. A strange exhilaration took hold of me. It was fun, running in the rain with my friend. Some feeling or memory tugged at my mind but I couldn't quite get it to come into focus. I gave up after a while and concentrated on running. Finally we came back around to my block and I had an idea.
"We're near my house. Why don't you come in and we'll wait the rest of this out," I said to Barry.
"Thanks, that would be great."
"Let's go to the back door so we don't drip on the rug."
We headed up my driveway and around to the back of the house. I fumbled in my wet shorts for my keys. Now that we had stopped moving I was getting chilled, and my hands shook as I tried to unlock the door.
Finally we got in and stood in the middle of the kitchen floor, teeth chattering, jumping up and down, trying without success to get warm as puddles of water formed at our feet on the linoleum. An air-conditioned draft blew in an arctic blast around us.
"Shit, I'm fucking freezing."
"The bathroom's down the hall to the left. Get in a hot shower," I told Barry.
He looked at me. "You're shaking too. Want to join me?"
A fresh chill struck me at that moment and I shivered violently. "There isn't room for two in there. I'll go in the upstairs bathroom. I'll bring you something to put on. There should be a towel there. "
"Thanks." He disappeared down the hall, still dripping water. Now I had to do something to get warm. There were extra towels in a linen closet upstairs and I made a beeline for the stairs.
In the second-floor hallway I stripped off my soaking running clothes, heedless of the mess I was making. I pulled out piles of towels, took the largest one I could find and rubbed myself vigorously to get the circulation going again. No matter how much I tried I couldn't seem to get warm. My feet felt numb and my teeth chattered uncontrollably.
I knew the water heater in the house didn't have enough capacity to supply both showers with enough hot water at the same time. If I tried to use the shower in my own bathroom Barry's would get cold.
In a moment my feet were moving of their own accord down the stairs and toward the bathroom on the first floor. I paused at the door, hearing the sound of running water. I knocked loudly and walked in without waiting for an answer.
The first-floor shower was a stand-up compartment, encased in frosted glass. Barry's clothes and shoes were in a sodden heap on the floor. I saw him huddled underneath the steamy spray. He looked up, startled, when I banged on the door, and opened it.
"I... there isn't enough hot water for both showers," I began. Barry took in the situation at once. "You're going to catch pneumonia. Get in."
I swear I had no thoughts at that moment other than to get some warmth back into my body. I threw off the towel around my waist, stepped in and let the hot spray wash over me, throwing my head back and sighing as warmth began to creep in and vanquish the chill.
After a while I had to look at him. The compartment was small, built for a single person, and Barry stood only a foot or so away from me. I had never seen him naked before. His shoulders were wide, his pectoral muscles defined and symmetrical, topped with large, dark nipples and lightly furred with hair, matted against his skin at the moment by the water. The hair outlined the ridges on his stomach, and thickened as it descended toward his crotch. My eyes followed the stream of rushing water down his body, to the cut cock and dangling balls nestling in a thicket of dark hair, impressive even in repose. I thought of what his cock might look like hard.
I saw a hand, Barry's hand, take hold of the genitals at which I was staring. I raised my head and looked into my friend's smiling face. There was no way I could pretend I'd been looking elsewhere. I started to chatter, sounding ridiculous even to myself.
"Sorry to kick you out," I said. "I was just so cold."
He shook his head, still with that smile. "It's okay." I hoped he would get out, but he didn't leave.
"Do you need to get under the water again? Are you still cold?"
He shook his head again. His steady gaze sent a wave of heat flooding through my body that had nothing to do with the temperature of the water. To my appalled surprise I felt myself getting hard.
"Poor Sean," Barry said softly, barely audible above the sound of the rushing water. "Your teeth are still chattering," and with that he stepped forward and put his arms around me.
"What are you doing?" I stiffened and tried to push him away, but not for nothing was Barry built the way he was. He tightened his grip and I was trapped. My arms were pinned against my sides and the shower was too small for me to get any sort of leverage against his body. Besides, something strange was happening. The more I struggled the harder my cock became. I felt something else hard pressing against my stomach as well.
"Sean, Sean," Barry said, close to my ear. "Don't be scared. Let yourself go. You know you want to."
The futile struggle, the heat of the rushing water, the hardness of his body against mine--it all started to overwhelm me. Almost without willing it I sagged against him. In response, Barry relaxed his grip just enough for me to raise my arms. I felt my hands slide over his strong back and suddenly we were locked in a fierce embrace.
"Sean," Barry said again. His hands roved over my wet skin, caressing, then slipped between our bodies. I felt one hand grip my cock as he pressed his mouth to mine. No, my brain said, and I resisted for a moment, shaking my head back and forth, before I yielded. His tongue slipped in, not hesitant like Patti's when we made out, but demanding and urgent. I kissed him back, gripping his head as if to weld our mouths together.
We broke apart and Barry drew back, looking into my eyes. "You are so gorgeous." His face disappeared from view as he quickly knelt. I looked down just in time to see him grasp my cock and take it into his mouth.
Pleasure surged through me. I raised my head and let out a soft moan, which turned into a startled cry as the stream pelting down on us abruptly turned cold. The hot water had run out.
I turned and quickly twisted the knob to "off." Laughing and cursing, we climbed out of the shower and took our towels, drying each other off, deliberately being rough, grabbing each other's cocks and horsing around. Suddenly I stopped. We fell silent, panting.
"What is it, Sean?"
I stood, trying to grasp the enormity of the step I was on the edge of taking. I looked at my friend, naked, his hair damp, his expression quizzical. He was the only one to whom I could appeal for guidance.
"What am I doing?" I asked him.
Through all that's happened, I've held on to what Barry said next, because I think he meant it.
"You're doing what's right," he answered. When I stayed silent he raised a hand slowly and touched my face. I kissed his palm. We didn't let go of each other for the next couple of hours.
Try as I might, I can't forget that first time Barry and I made love. And I don't feel funny using that phrase, because that's what it was.
