This one's for my twin sister, Chelle. My muse.
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From the first second I saw him I knew I wanted him. He had a phone pressed between his shoulder and his ear, eating from a bowl of cereal as he walked around the pool in his backyard. The baggie board-shorts he wore would dip a little with each step revealing the paler skin of his ass and top of his crack. I kept half an eye on him from the concealment of my sunglasses while I worked.
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The name's Michael. I'm an Irish boy from nowhere in particular, and the bright-red ponytail I wear is more than enough proof of that. I dress well enough when I need to; my work wardrobe usually consists of black wingtips, tight-fitting black slacks that are a little loose around the knees to allow for bending, and a dark solid button-down. I'm a relatively fit guy; I bike to work every morning and jog in the evenings.
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Nicole and I used to wait tables together when we were in college and we did a good job of remaining friends thereafter. We'd go out once a month or so with her crazy girlfriends to a karaoke night downtown. She was a party girl in college and she showed no signs of slowing down in her thirties.
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Perhaps some of you say that this story is false, but things happened just the way I'm gonna tell you about. I don't know why I share this story of my life with all of you, maybe because I'm tired of keeping it so far. I first had a boyfriend when I was 18 and I was probably the most naïve boy on this earth. Can't say that I was sure of what exactly was supposed to happen on the first night we slept together.
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"Hey Jim, you enjoying the party?"
I looked up, and saw that it was my host, Bruce, walking up to the couch I was sitting on. I was a co-worker of his sister, and she was constantly bragging about his parties, and that I should come to one with her. I gave in, more out of curiosity than anything, and here I was, sitting on his couch, drinking his mojito, and people watching.
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When I started driving some years ago, I recall my dad's repeated warnings about keeping plenty of gas in my car. Well, as this 19-year-old sat on the gravel shoulder of a rather desolate foothill highway after running out of gas, the last thing I wanted to think about was my dad being right, as usual. It didn't seem that I would have to worry about anybody coming along this road at 1 a.m., so I figured I might as well bunk in my car until daylight.
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There is something particularly humiliating about being arrested covered in cum, piss, and surrounded by big black men, especially when you were once a very well-off businessman with a simple insertion fetish. My whole private life had been exposed in a day, and it affected my professional life a great deal. My face was plastered all over the news for weeks. Obviously they weren't flashing my cum covered naked ass on the nightly news, but plenty of pictures surfaced on the Internet and were making their rounds. It was a huge scandal.
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I hate labels. I don't consider myself gay. Hell, I don't even think of myself as bi, either. Slightly bent? Straight with a slight curve? Fuck if I know because I love sex with women. Really, I do, except I've had a dick or two inside my mouth, too. So, what does that make me? Before Todd, I never thought much about it. Best to think of myself as a horny bastard and leave it at that.
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The most wonderful thing a lover has ever done for me was to give me my life. I didn't understand it at the time, but if he had loved me as I wanted him to—as I begged him to—I would be long dead today.
The days of my sexual coming of age in Bangkok, Thailand, during the mid seventies through the mid eighties were paradise followed by a rude awakening, a realization of how life can come back at you hard that I didn't fully realize until I had left the City of the Angels the first time I lived there.
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It had been the week from hell. The boss had been on his tail all week, everything that could go wrong had gone wrong and, to top it all, head office had sent through a memo late on Friday afternoon stating that there were to be cut backs across the board and that staff would be losing their jobs.
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