What Happens in France (Stays in Boston)
Spring finally came but you would never know it. Rain. More rain. At least it stopped snowing. Over the course of the winter, we signed Chris up for a few tournaments leading up to the French Open. He said he needed all the practice he could get playing on clay. I was excited to spend so much time in Europe and we would get to see Goran which was a bonus. He would potentially play Goran at some or all of those tournaments, but the two of them seemed able to keep their friendship separate.
Chris and Brad worked endlessly on Chris's serve, on his stamina, on his backhand. Everything, really. I was so impressed by Chris' drive and determination. I wished I had had half of that when I was still playing.
I thought about when I could quit teaching. I didn't hate it, but it didn't thrill me either. And placing in a major and winning a lesser tournament meant that we had some significant income. He could pay Brad properly. We could think about moving. But we couldn't figure out where. So for now, teaching was something to do, so I continued.
I was stoked to get to Europe. We were going to start with the Monte Carlo Open, the first clay court tournament. But then, the week before we were to leave, my father had a heart attack. A bad one. He survived, but it didn't look like he would survive long, so I felt I had to stay. My mom had died a few years ago and it was just him and I and the big fucking house I grew up in.
But I felt awful. I felt awful for my dad, even though he was an ass and treated me like crap, and I felt bad for Chris since it was clear I couldn't go with him. At least not right away.
We lay in bed the night before he was to leave and he held me. My stomach hurt. I finally said, “Chris...you leaving and all. It brings out the worst in me. I get a little crazy with these kinds of things. I'm warning you.”
He kissed my forehead and said, “I know. Distance scares the fuck out of you. I get it. I don't like it either. You should totally find some nice guys to hook up with. Or even a girl, for that matter. It will take your mind off me being away and maybe make you less anxious.”
I said, “It's that obvious, huh? Crap. I thought I was so cool.”
He wrapped his arms around me and said, “No, Mike. You're a pussycat. That's one of the reasons I love you.”
That felt really nice. I said, “Thanks for being awesome. Hopefully I can come over and be there for you, but...”
“I know.”
Part of me was annoyed that Chris seemed so serene about it. He told me he would miss me, it's not like he didn't. But he didn't seem torn up about it. Not like me. I was going to be wreck.
So the next morning, I put him and Brad and Seamus on a plane. They were all going and it would be just me and Stuart at the school. We had some temporary teachers to fill in, but both of us would have to pick up the slack.
Stuart and Jack were totally an item. In fact, they were clearly head over heels. It was really nice to see. For both of them. Jack spent many weekends in Boston and Stuart spent time in New York. I felt very proud of how we engineered that one. But it also meant that both of them were preoccupied with each other.
After I got home from the airport, I sat in my apartment for a while feeling sad. But I had to go to the hospital and see my dad. I drove to Massachusetts General and found my way to his room. He was hooked up to all sorts of machines and he mostly unconscious, occasionally making sounds that made no sense.
I sat in the chair wondering what the hell I was supposed to do. My guy was away, my friends – except for Stuart and Jack – were away. My bed was cold. I felt sorry for myself. My dad lay there like a lump. At least he wasn't saying caustic things to me. At least he wasn't quietly judging my lack of a tennis career. At least he wasn't passive-aggressively tolerating Chris. I only introduced him to my dad once, just so he would understand. Afterward, Chris said that we had the same father. Apparently his was very similar, but worse. For some reason, I found that reassuring.
I pulled out my phone and idly checked real estate listings in The Bahamas. Just for fun.
“Are you Edward's son?”
I looked up and this doctor was standing there. He was tall and slim and had short black hair and his skin tone was somewhere between mine and Seamus'. He had these masculine glasses on that made him look like the Vogue version of a doctor. Stylish. Sexy. “Yeah. Michael.”
“I'm John. Or sometimes known as Dr. Dalliwal. Whichever you prefer.”
I raised my eyebrows, not sure what his point was. Doctors are sometimes dense in the socializing department, I've found.
“Anyway...your dad has a right temporal stroke. Really bad. It means that if he survives, he won't have use of his left side. But the prognosis it not good, I'm afraid. You can see that for now we have him on a respirator.” He looked at me to see if I was taking this in. I was, mostly.
I said, “When will you know?”
“Not sure, Michael. Let's give it a few days. Let me know if you have any questions.” He looked at me for a moment, then left the room.
I stared at my dad and thought: fuck you, old man. I was angry at him and sad for him and resentful and probably a dozen other things. I decided I had to get the hell out of there. I left his room and saw Dr Dalliwal standing at the nursing station. He was writing something. I said, “Dr. Dalliwal...will he be able to know anyone? I mean, is he actually in there?”
He said, “Just call me John. And I don't know. Not yet. Strokes this bad generally only lead one direction. Maybe it's more helpful to call it uncontrolled bleeding in his brain. So we're not looking for a miraculous recovery here. Quite the opposite.”
I sighed. “Right. Fuck. Well, I guess I'll be back tomorrow.”
I was about to turn and he asked, “Do you have siblings? Mother? Does he have siblings?”
I almost laughed, but it was a reasonable question. “No...kind of tragic. Just me and him. I'll see you tomorrow.”
I left, feeling shitty. I drove home feeling shitty. I ate a lame frozen dinner and felt more shitty. I whatsapped Chris and we talked for a while. I told him what was going on. He was lovely, as always, and said helpful things. How the hell did I find such an amazing guy?”
We signed off but I quickly felt bad again. I knew this was my history talking. I don't do well when people leave. Even if they're coming back. It feels like they're gone forever. Crap.
So the days went by, each seeming to be the same as the next. Teaching, hanging with Stuart, going to the hospital. Sitting at home. I occasionally thought about firing up that app that we all used. Know it? I'm sure you do. Chris was right. A random hookup might take my mind off this. But somehow it didn't feel right.
By about the sixth day of spending time at the hospital, I was more able to talk with John when he came by. Nice dude. Smart as fuck and cute. On that sixth day, I was getting up to go, when John came into the room and said, “You leaving?”
“Yeah. There's nothing more I can do here. I'll see you tomorrow?”
He nodded, but then said, “Uh...Michael. I'm probably not supposed to do this, but do you want to grab dinner?”
I stopped in my tracks and turned and looked at him. It wasn't quite computing, but then, when I realized he had this funny grin on his face, I got it. “Oh...you mean...right. Well, why the hell not?”
John gave me a bright smile and said, “Give me two minutes while I get my stuff.”
He left the room and I decided this could be interesting. And I knew Chris would be all about it. And I also realized I would have to tell this guy about Chris. Just so we were on the same page.
He came back and said, “There's a little place down the street that makes nice pasta...sound good?”
“Sure. Who doesn't like pasta?”
He grinned at me and we left.
In the restaurant, sitting at a little table near the back, I took the opportunity to make things clear. “So, John...am I to assume you asked me out?”
He laughed and adjusted his glasses, then said, “Yes. That's what I did.”
“Right. So, you should know that I have a partner. He's out of town and while we are very open, nonetheless...”
John reached over and put his hand on my arm. “It's all good, Michael. I get it. I'm just happy to get to know you and...well...maybe we can spend some time together. Sound good?”
It was my turn to smile. I said, “Yeah. Sounds good. Oh, and everyone calls me Mike. Except my dad. So I prefer Mike because my dad is an asshole. I mean, not when he's in a coma, but you know what I mean.”
John burst out laughing and waved the waiter over. “You're a funny guy...Mike.”
We had a really nice dinner and some good conversations. It felt so great to be getting to know someone. I missed that. I remembered getting to know Chris and how exciting it was. This was less exciting, but still interesting.
I heard about being a doctor, about his parents and how the family came from India when John was a boy. I told him about tennis and my shitty career. I told him about Chris and his really exciting career that seemed to be getting more exciting. I said, “I would be with him now if it weren't for my dad and the stroke and all.”
He nodded and said, “You must miss Chris a lot.”
“Holy fuck, do I ever! Is it that obvious?”
“Well I don't know about obvious, but I would miss him if I was you.”
“Yeah, that makes sense.”
We finished our dinner and we left the restaurant. John turned to me and said, “Chris...I live a few blocks from here if you feel like coming by...”
Did I? I decided I did. I heard Chris' voice in my head saying: just say yes, idiot, he wants to get in your pants. I said with a grin, “Sure. Sound lovely.”
He lived in this big house on a quiet street. It seemed way too big for one person. But I realized I was excited. We got in the house and we parked in the living room and he made a show of offering me a drink and instead I stood up and wrapped my arms around him and pulled him close. Our mouths met and we were off. He was slim but strong and we wrestled together, trading kisses and feeling each other's asses. I slid my hand down the front of his pants and found a nice hard cock. Not overly big, but hot and stiff. I licked his ear and said, “You have a bed we could be on?”
Laughing, he led me upstairs and I stopped him by the bed and started to undress him. I undid his shirt and pulled it over his slim but strong shoulders. He had a nice trimmed chest with all this short black hair accentuating his lean muscles, so different than a tennis player. I undid his belt and slid his pants off. He stepped out of them and I saw he had red, old-school boxers on. I chuckled and said, “Where the fuck did you get these?”
“What? I like boxers.”
“Fine.” But I pulled them down over his thighs and off, and he was standing there naked, looking really sexy and kind of mysterious. He was hairy, but he trimmed it and that made him look sleek and sculpted. The light brown of his skin seemed to glow. I licked his nipples and sucked on them, then licked and kissed all over his chest and stomach. I stuck my tongue in his navel and he laughed and shivered at the same time. My hand found his cock and I gave it a few strokes. I said, “Now you. Take my clothes off.”
He grinned and slid my t-shirt off. I was in jeans, so he quickly undid them and slid them down. They were tight so he had to work. I was in black boxer briefs that, if I do say so myself, look really good on me. Then we were naked. He ran his hand over my chest and circled down to my cock, which he grasped and stroked a few times.
I pushed him on the bed and ran my lips over his cock, then over his cock head, using my tongue to suction out his precum. The he sucked me, stroking my dick as his mouth worked, but he finally said, “You want to fuck, or be fucked?”
I thought a moment, then said, “I want to fuck you, John. Is that cool?”
“Totally cool.” He got me some lube and I crawled between his legs and did all the things and pushed my way into him. He was all smooth and snug and my cock seemed comfortable in there.. I think I had been missing fucking Chris more than I knew. I started slow, but got faster and we kissed while I fucked. He slapped my ass a few times, which was fun. He stuck some fingers in my ass which equally fun. It was all fun. He slid all his fingers into me and with that, I suddenly came, my body trembling, my cock gushing into his ass. I stuck my nose in the crook of his neck and breathed.
He slid his hands up and down my back and over my butt, massaging me, and running his fingers up the crack of my ass which felt really good. I said, “Can I suck you off?”
“How could I say no?”
So I did and his cock fit really nicely in my mouth so I was able to take it all. He gently pushed me down on him and started whispering, “Suck me, Mike. Fucking suck, me. I'm going to give you a load.
A big load...”
He went on and clearly this was his thing. Mine was taking cum, his was talking about giving it. Perfect. Finally, he stopped talking and with a few little cries, cum started to spurt out and he wasn't kidding. His load was big. Spurt after spurt hit the back of my throat and it just kept coming. It was Jack quantities, but even more even more, which is saying something. I could barely take it. It tasted amazing, so that helped.
He finally calmed down and I swallowed then we kissed for a while. He tasted really good. His cum and his mouth. I said, “Nice fucking work, John!”
He laughed like a kid and said, “Thanks...I don't know where all the cum comes from.”
“Don't question it.”
We lay for a while and dozed. I was about to get up and he said, “Why don't you stay? It's late. It's always nicer to sleep with someone, right?”
I had to agree, so I settled myself behind him and I was asleep really fast.
--
So hanging with John became part of the rhythm. But I missed Chris all the time. About two weeks after he left, the Monte Carlo Open started. I got daily reports from Chris or Brad or Goran or all three. He eventually won. He beat an annoying Aussie which made him really happy.
But as he prepared for the next tournament, he started to feel distant. Like he was only talking to me with one little part of his brain. I kept telling myself it was because of the pressure, the upcoming Open, training. But somehow it felt like he was withdrawing from me. I hate that. I don't do well. And I couldn't tell if I was making it up or not. If I was totally misinterpreting things or what.
Stuart tried to convince me that I was overreacting. John did the same thing. But after a couple of weeks after meeting John and taking his cum, I spent most nights with him. It was great. He was great. Chill but really sexy and a bit wild. He wanted to be tied up regularly and fucked with his arms tied to the bed. He wanted me to flog him sometimes. Not hard, but just enough to get him going. He flogged me, but I wasn't that into it.
By the time Chris got to the Madrid Open, he was definitely distant. I knew that Goran was there which you would think would make me feel better. But it didn't. Because I got the distinct feeling they were spending a lot of time together. Like a lot. What else was I going to think? It brought out all kinds of insecurities. That Chris was falling for Goran because he was beautiful and an awesome player. I was just a slovenly tennis instructor. That sucked.
He didn't win in Madrid, but Goran did. Chris lost in the semi's to that young French teenager who beat me. That was a surprise to me. Chris said over zoom, “I don't know what was wrong with me. The kid isn't that good. I'm just glad Goran beat the crap out of him.”
Then there was Rome. Chris was the runner up. Then the Open. My dad, at this point, had made no improvements. Still mostly unconscious. And when he wasn't, he seemed to be trying to talk, but there were no words. I fucked John (or he fucked me) most nights and we had nice thing going. Chris was really distant. I kept telling myself it was nerves, pressure, whatever. But when I asked about Goran, or I asked Goran about him, they both seemed evasive. Like they were hiding something. I really don't think I was making it up.
I watched most of the French Open on my laptop at work. It was tense. By the end of it, both he and Goran lost in the quarters. Later, Chris said, “I don't think clay likes me.” It was pretty much all he said. But I was mad. I was jealous and I think I had reason to be.
But Stuart, one afternoon, gave me hell. He said, “What the fuck, Mike. You really think Chris would do something like that?”
“So why is he being so evasive?”
That stopped him. “I wonder if you're seeing things.” But even he didn't seem convinced.
But when Chris came home he was still evasive. He was still cool. He wasn't the Chris who left a month earlier. He came into my apartment and hugged me, but it felt half-hearted. While we were getting in bed, I said, “What happened in Europe, Chris? Something happened. Fucking talk to me.”
He looked at me and his eyes filled with tears. “'Fuck, Mike. I feel like an idiot. Goran and I...we spent a lot of time together. I mean a lot. And not being with you...it made me a little crazy and needy. After we both lost, Goran gave me crap. He said we would always be friends and that he loved hanging with me and fucking me, but that I better go home and make sure to take care of you.
Goran is a fucking prince and I owe him an apology, too. And next to me, he's your biggest fan.” He stopped and took a breath. “But I feel so fucking guilty, Mike. I kind of lost touch with you for a while, and I pretended Goran and I were in a relationship. You must hate me. I'm so sorry.”
I felt a wave of guilt wash over me as I got into bed. I looked at him, fighting tears. I said, “Well, fuck. Don't feel bad. Because I did the same fucking thing. I told you about John...well, I spent almost every night with him. And it was nice! And I thought you were drifting away...and I guess for a while you were?”
He took my hand and said, “I was. I'm a fucking idiot.”
I started to feel better. “No. You were lonely. I was lonely. We each turned to someone who felt comfortable. Goran is definitely comfortable. John is comfortable. But Chris, we learned something. We don't do well apart for longer periods of time. Right?”
He sniffled. I had rarely seen him cry, but tears were running down his pale cheeks, glinting like gold off his almost white eyelashes. “We don't, do we? Let's not do that again. I mean...I get it, you had no choice because of your father....oh! How is your dad, anyway? I'm sorry I hadn't asked sooner.”
“No, it's all good. No change. In fact a little decline, according to John.”
He looked at me a moment, then I said, “Is Goran still pissed at you?”
“Oh, he's fine. He's on your side. I mean, he's on our side. He wants you and I to work. He really is an amazing dude and we have a really good friend in him.”
I liked the sound of that. I said, “So you want to meet John and fuck him?”
“What? Why would I want that?”
“Well, you wanted to get in Jack's pants I seem to recall.”
“Yes, but Jack has an amazing fuck-off cock.”
“Good point.” I kissed him and said, “I'm so glad we understand what this was all about. So...when you go the the UK for Wimbledon....”
“You will be in my fucking suitcase, Mike. And on that note, it makes sense to me that we move to Europe. I was wondering about some place like Barcelona. Anyway, it's too busy during the season to be on this side of the Atlantic. I think we can afford it.”
“I bet you're right. And here's something I hadn't even thought of until now. If my dad kicks it - and it looks like he will because you don't come back from strokes like he had – then I get everything. The house, the contents, the money...it hadn't occurred to me before.”
“You're an heiress!”
“Fuck, yeah!”
“How long will he last?”
“John thinks he won't last the summer. Maybe sooner.”
Chris looked thoughtful, but didn't say anything for a moment. But then he sat up and threw the sheet back. We hadn't fucked yet, which was definitely saying something. Chris was wearing these really tight little briefs that barely contained his cock and balls. Especially now that his dick was hard as fuck and it was pushing the fabric all over the place. He said, with an evil grin, “Take my underwear off.”
I smiled and did just that. He dick was beautiful. I hadn't forgotten, but it had been a while. I went to touch it and he said, “Take off your underwear.”
I did and my cock was in the same state as his. I wondered what was on his mind. He reached to the floor and brought his laptop up. I thought for a minute that we were going to watch porn, but then he fired up zoom and I suddenly got it. “Goran?”
“Yeah, Goran. I want to show him how right he is. That you and I are in it together. He can join in. I want him to and I assume you do, too. But at the end of the day, it's just us. He'll find a guy. I know he will.”
I liked the sound of this and it was turning me on like crazy. I wondered what time it was in the Czech Republic. Six in the morning? I wasn't sure. But when Chris pinged him, he answered. I said, “Hi Goran. I can't wait to see you in London.”
He grinned at us and said, “It will be epic, Mike. We'll have epic sex and go to crazy bars and have a lot of fun.”
Chris said, “But now, Goran, you get to watch us fuck. Does that sound good?”
He laughed and said, “How could I refuse? Who is fucking who?”
Chris turned to me and said, “I'm going to fuck Mike.”
It was't a question but I totally agreed. I got myself on my back and Chris lubed us up and I could see that Goran had taken his clothes off and had moved his screed so we could watch him jerk off. I was really turned on. I stated fisting my dick even before Chris got himself into me, which he did. He moved the screed so that Goran had a good view of Chris' cock going into my ass.
Then he started to fuck me. A bit slow at first, and he kissed me and licked my neck and then pretty fast began to pound his cock deep. It felt amazing and I realized how much I had missed this. I kept looking at the screed to watch Goran's hand on his cock which looked at stiff and sticky. I wished he was there for me to suck it and I said so. Goran laughed and said, “Soon, Mike. Soon.”
Chris turned to the screen and said, “Yeah, and soon I'll fuck you, Goran. I'll take that amazing Czech ass and fuck it into next week. I'll fill you with so much cum it will run out your nose.”'
It was getting crazy and the three of us were laughing, but then Chris turned to me and his mouth opened and he said, “Oh fuck, I'm going to fill you up....Mike, I love you like crazy....”
And he shut his eyes and kept fucking, but I knew his was spewing cum into me. I decided to channel him and pulled myself up and fed him my cock which began to pump cum as soon as I slid it into his mouth. I moaned and fucked myself forward and I could tell I was giving him a mouthful. When I was done, we kissed and traded my cum between us. I looked at the screen just as Goran's dick exploded all over his chest and stomach. The white of the cum contrasted with the black hair on his chest and around his cock. He had shut his brown eyes and was breathing heavily.
Chris and I calmed down and knelt in front of the screen. There was a little stream of cum drooling out of Chris' cock which I collected and made a big show of licking off my finger. I said, “I can't wait to see you, Goran. And not just for your cock. You're a good friend. We love you.”
Goran looked serious and said, “Thanks, you Mike, I'm touched. Good friends are so hard to find. I won't let go of you two.”
We signed off and snuggled under the sheets. I had missed sleeping with Chris so much and now that he was back, the world felt like it was not upside down any more. I thought of the future. Of moving, of Wimbledon, of living with Chris in Europe. They were all possibilities that made sense. Even my father's death which would be coming soon. Even that felt real and made sense. We had a little storm but it passed and the skies had cleared.
