This time it was no accident.
This time there was no alcohol involved. Nobody accidentally bumping into the other beneath the mistletoe tacked in the door around Christmastime, being double dared to buck convention wisdom for a measly fifty bucks.
Reggie was sitting there next to me on the edge of the bed. We weren’t planning on doing anything, of course. It just wasn’t even in the cards for us to ever be together like that. Not now or ever. So I felt pretty safe in my emotions. We were on the bed because it was the only place in my sparsely furnished efficiency for us to sit comfortably in front of the television. He said he wanted to be there with me when they aired the episode. I understood it had very little to do with me per se. He didn’t want to be alone when it played nor be bothered by a ton of folks asking him how he let himself get played by such a lowdown despicable woman.
I told myself it was a good thing that he was there with me, as awkward as it could be seen from the outside. He would just sit there and let the phone ring when they started to call asking how he was doing as they secretly wanted to know the details spoken and unspoken in the ten-minute clip. He knew me. I would take his phone away from him before all that even began and turn the ringer off. I might even slip it in the drawer so he doesn’t convince himself to answer it anyway when another familiar name came up on the screen.
I thought about opening the bottle of rum when the show came on that he brought me from Bermuda that time. Get piss drunk, you know. But he didn’t need me to ease his pain or help him forget his troubles or give him something else he might regret later. He had other people for that. From me, he wanted a safe place to fall when his world crumbled before a national audience.
One second, he was sitting next to me crying over reliving the news again and in the next those big sexy lips were all over mine, smothering them. I just remember thinking that his lips were incredibly soft for a man so hard, seasoned with a sip of delicious bourbon chicken juice from his lunch earlier at the sports bar. It wasn’t like we were sitting so close to each other that it was somehow destined to be. And it wasn’t like when it happened that it was all that caressingly gentle, like those sweet soft kisses that Hollywood gets off calling romantic. His neat beard and moustache were like little match tips working overtime across my clean-shaven face and loved every minute of it.
I should push him away, I reasoned.
It could be anything that is making him act this way.
Anger. Fear. Embarrassment. Regret.
But every touch I felt of his, his hands on my back trying to lay me down, and every hand I lay on him, on the nape and the tattoo riding his side, turned me on in every way. And beyond my control, he was between my legs dry humping the hell out of my new favorite pair of black jeans.
Then I found the will to stop. Pulling his teeth from my neck and stopping him dead in his tracks, remembering everything that happened and vowing not to play second fiddle.
* * *
Ever since I told my cousin that there was really such a thing as an ultra-masculine gay man, she has gone out of her way to bring me a few to vet. It wasn’t for my benefit to meet a possible partner as it was for hers, on the hunt for a new man to father her kids. I thought I was close to done after meeting twelve different men in the course of two years, with a handful of them eventually making their way between my sheets.
There was this one guy in particular that she had been talking about all that time that she really wanted me to meet. Unlike the others, she was never interested in him like that, because they grew up together and she saw him more like a little brother than some potential getting between her thighs. But if he was my cup of tea, she thought it might be nice if the two of us could ride off into the sunset together.
Of course, that was a just a dream of hers–not mine.
I didn’t see myself settling down anytime soon. I had just graduated with my master’s degree and was still in the infantile stages of building my career. I started having a few tingles of reconsideration when my cousin and I drove out to the beach one day to find this photography crew standing along the shore with this big phyne cocoa butter brotha towering out of the water with his hard body covered in tattoos. Pretty boi, he wasn’t. Just the same he was one of the handsomest devils I had come across in a long time. The most beautiful thing about him was that he was quite natural. He wasn’t perfect in any way nor was he trying to be. He had this sexy/comical look going for him. His extended jaw always left those whopping pillowy lips slightly ajar making him look as he was always wondering what was going on.
While I was working to adjust my erection, he came out of the water to greet me and my cousin. I fell in love with his smile. Even more so when I swore he was shamelessly flirting with me over dinner.
As the weeks rolled on, some days I was positive that I was picking up some kind of vibe from him and that we were really connecting. Other days, it felt like Reggie and I were meant to stay in the friend’s zone. Then Christmas came along and that bet. I was against kissing him. I didn’t want there to be any more confused signals on my part. It was a party, and fifty dollars was in play. He had a splash of eggnog with his rum. Why not? It shouldn’t count, I know, but there was something there, too. Nobody could see that his tongue brushed over my lips when he dipped me down. I should have never had my mouth open—or maybe I should’ve parted my teeth a little more.
I wrestled with my conscious about getting him more inebriated that night. Take him home to get him “sobered up” at my place. If nothing more, I could innocently strip him down to his boxers and have him wake up next to me. I guess I spent too much time thinking because I lost him in the house. When I found him he was on the makeshift dance floor in the living room bumping and grinding against my mother.
It might’ve been considered sweet if my mother wasn’t just barely a few years older than me and didn’t believe that we could date men in the same age group. Mine a few years older than me, hers a few years younger than her. Gay, straight, it really didn’t matter to her. Everybody was fair game. And it wasn’t like she didn’t know that I liked him. All along she was making little cracks along the way that he was “too much of a real man” to be gay and that I should aim my sights a little lower.
I wasn’t fazed in the least by her comments. I may not be the most masculine guy in the world, but I’m closer to that than I could ever be a sissy. I knew what that was all about. She could give a flying flip about him. All she heard attached to his name was that he had a short-lived career in the NFL a few years back. Instead of leaving when his body was badly beaten, he took the money he made from his contract and invested in a few business deals that turned out really well for him.
* * *
There are no words when the man of your dreams starts dating your mother. No words. She never did care for playing fair. Even when I first came out with my then-boyfriend, she was upset because she couldn’t “turn him around” so she slept with his married father and ruined that marriage as a way to get back at me. I guess she will forever be that fifteen-year-old spoil brat competing with her newborn son. She got to Reggie by appealing to his softer side, appealing to the only thing that I couldn’t give him. Kids.
He didn’t have any kids, and he always wanted at least one, a son that he could toss the football with, he told me over the stadium crowd.
He got his wish six months later when my mother announced that she had just completed her first trimester and was pregnant with triplets. I painfully watch him stay right by her side throughout the whole pregnancy which was already complicated enough with her being around forty. I had even heard rumors that after everything settled down, he was thinking about proposing to her. My cousin was livid about this, not only because he confided in her that he didn’t really love her, but because she didn’t think any man under thirty was ready to make such a commitment to such an aging woman that was going to have seven kids in all. (My cousin was really rooting for me.)
Even though I kept my thoughts to myself, my cousin tried cheering me up by keeping me abreast of every gay porn that played with some daddy theme, seeing that a man four years my senior could possibly be my new stepfather.
I had just finally come to accept that all of this was happening, when I showed up at the hospital after the triplets were born to be blocked by security that wasn’t letting anybody passed the elevators. First there was this short thuggish-looking guy that carried on like he was ready to fight the world arguing with this other guy cussing him out. I was starting to feel sorry for the family who was involved in that hot mess when I saw Reggie being dragged out of the room calling my mother all sorts of names.
In less than a month, the three men and the new mother were sitting on the stage of Maury. The episode wasn’t aired immediately, and I found it strange that Reggie seemed to fall off the face of the earth. When I found the nerve to ask my mother about him, she told me that she could care less. My cousin told me he hadn’t talked to her since the show.
My cousin thought it was simple. That I should call him up and tell him how sorry I was, but I couldn’t find the nerve. Maybe I was angrier than anything else. Even if we didn’t have a future, I did sort of think of him as a friend. I heard the term MILF, but I would like to think if the situation was reverse that I would’ve crossed that line.
I was going about my life wonderfully when my friends and I decided to take an evening stroll around the park after going out to dinner. We were coming around the corner when I saw him sitting on a bench on the rim of the lake looking pitiful, like he had lost his best friend. I could have gotten my friend to go another way and never look back. But when I looked at him constantly rubbing his face, I quickly made out that he was wiping tears from his eyes and thought it was best to stay and comfort him for awhile.
It was kind of like we picked up where were left off, like this whole mess never happened. I was back at his place. He was back at mine. We were both moving with and fighting against this thing that was still growing between us.
Reggie got word a week later that they were airing the episode. He claimed that the last thing in the world he wanted to be was alone when it came on. But the last thing I expected was for him to be kissing me again.
I was so caught up in having the man of my dreams with me that I suddenly found myself lost in this strange paradox. Loving him the way I did. Reggie pulling off his shirt, my shirt, hands roving my body as if it was his to begin with. His face buried along my neckline taking to planting his row of hickeys on me. And there I was underneath him feeling slightly ashamed that my thighs parted ways so easily to secure those hard tattooed muscles between them. Mortified that the heat of his body, his cologne flavored with his natural musk grinding hard against me through our pants was making me feel some kind of way far beyond my control.
But there was an ounce of power still left in me to resist. I stopped when I was so willing to give that away anymore. And he stopped when he felt the hurt and the humiliation roar back into my heart. Though my mouth trembled with everything I wanted to say, I couldn’t make the words come out of my mouth. There was the small fear of losing him again. The biggest fear was that I wanted to forgive him and move forward, seeing things in him, with me, that I was jumping ahead of in my mind even though it was no less than the truth.
He could still use his voice. His shallow breathing made that clear. There was an understanding in his big brown eyes. This wasn’t just a fluke. This wasn’t lust and he needed to get what he wanted and be on his way. There was a consideration involved, some attentiveness deeper than even I could register. The remorse in his eyes spoke more of his regret than any words he could trip over to get everything out.
He breathed. “Tell me to stop and I will. I will. I promise. I don’t want to—
I put my face over his, slipping him a tongue, and finally getting in the romantic kiss we should’ve shared from the beginning.
I fall back to the bed just shy of my head hitting the pillow. He reached over me and pulled it behind my neck.
Reggie looked at me for awhile. Tears of old and new still hanging in his eyes, wounded that this was where he was supposed to have been in the first place, home.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He heaved, his face going for the pillow that I was on.
I held him tight. Then I kissed him along the crook of his hairy jaw before nuzzling his tattoo-free collar. He reared his short thick kinky head kissing me back.
Belt buckles got undone. Our jeans got unbuttoned and unzipped. My head off the pillow, my back off the bed, arching my neck back to present my neck again as I held the back of his with one hand and balanced my torso with the other. He went back and forth on my neck and my lips undecided which was truly better for him. He wanted to taste it all. I was too deep into him kissing me across the lips that I started to feel vulnerable when he laid me back down, kissing me back along the neckline and newly down my solid chest. He was torturing me so, going all the way around each nipple two or three times before moving back up where my arms met my breastplate.
I was jolted by the foreign sensitivity there, especially along the hard curve of my chest as he took his sweet time getting to my nipples. When he was there, he was there kissing them and licking them and slightly pulling away. I felt his dick press harder against me with every soft moan of approval. I got even louder when he stayed where he belonged, and I bucked, manic rolling my hips against his when he began to suck them and bite them sending me into a frenzy like no other.
* * *
I woke up the next morning not knowing that it was humanly possible to feel so spent with my clothes still on, feeling as if I had come out of every nerve ending and my whole body was still basking in the aftermath. I woke up and fell asleep at least five or six times, trying to pull myself away from his warm body. When I looked at the clock, I knew I had to pull away from his grip, holding me tight like he was some child clutching onto his favorite teddy bear, me. Even though I felt it grind against me most of the night through the fabric, it was only after I got out of bed and watch him lazily roll onto his back in his sleep that I got my first peak of his dick. It was shooting straight out of the hole of his boxers like a sandy-brown-colored Washington Monument with not a line in sight. It told me that he was uncut without a single fold of foreskin left from his member. It would just be cliché to say that it was big. It was not what I would’ve expected on him, though pleasantly surprised just the same. It was average in length, but in width and girth it raised the bar to the likes I had never seen, giving me a better sense of what being beer can-thick meant. Like a can of Heineken pulsing with life.
I didn’t want to wake him, not sure after last night if he was hungry to use that thing on me. I wasn’t a virgin, but my experiences were just a handful, mostly sucking with the occasional serpent spitting its white spew into a condom inside of my guts. I couldn’t help but wonder if there was one out there made to fit a man like Reggie, though. That could stretch ever so wide. I shook my head, looking at him in my bed sound asleep. I didn’t want to make the mistake of putting more into last night than what it was, that after a night of heavy petting that the man of my dreams was finally mine. Even as the silly thought that he may have been using me and my obvious feelings for him to get back at my mother override what we shared.
I snuck out, and went to work, hoping that when I returned he would be gone.
* * *
He called and came by for the next two years. We never got back to doing what we did, but it wasn’t because of a lack of trying. It wasn’t about that with him, of course. He was like my cousin, hoping that we could find a way ride off into the sunset together, to get pass this. The harder he tried to make us an us, the more I resisted. His feelings for me were clear, and for me it went beyond him being a boyfriend or my man as I kept on seeing my husband in those eyes, sitting in a rocking chair one day talking about the good old days.
I wasn’t ready for that. I had dreams and goals of my own that needed my attention that had nothing to do with him. He kept trying and trying and I wanted him more and more. In turn, not wanting to give in, to give up my hopes without him, I began to get comfortable in my delayed anger and hatred towards him. Replaying clips in my mind with him on the dance floor with her, narrowly escaping being the father of my three little brothers. Still, he tried.
He wasn’t there every day of every minute trying to win me over, but there wasn’t a week that went by that I didn’t hear something from him. Even if it was nothing more than him leaving behind a rose or my favorite candy on my doorstep to let me know that he was thinking about me. Then one week passed by and I didn’t hear anything from him, and then the next. I hated coming home the following week, taking the stairs instead of the elevator hoping that he would be standing there. I took Thursday and Friday off, leaving my door cracked, hoping that if he stopped by again that he might get concerned to want to come in. Saturday came and went. After midnight, I put on some clothes and went downstairs, went over a few blocks to a bar, got drunk, and caught a taxi over to his place. I wasn’t going over there to profess my love for him. I was on my way over there to tell him how livid I was for leading me on so many years ago and having the nerve to go off and do what he did with my mother and making me feel like I was just some consolation prize, cursing him for not leaving me out of it when that episode played.
When he opened the door in those blue silk pajamas, I saw those same eyes and that same remorse as I saw before. I was speechless again, and though my lips trembled again they were trembling against his. It was like we were in our own little world with our kiss. I was brought back to the moment when I felt his strong hand graze my booty and his dick sprang forth against my bellybutton trying to insert, following some movement out of the corner of my eye.
There was a woman dressed in a tank top and some jeans, getting off her makeshift bed on the sofa, grabbing her keys from the coffee table in front of it and a shirt off the floor. “I guess I’ll leave you boys to your devices and find me a hotel room for the night.”
“Good idea, sis. That is, unless you like to listen.” Reggie chuckled as she walked passed us on out the door. “Good night.”
“Good night.”
He closed the door behind him and hoisted me up to his waist and carried me off into the bedroom kissing me every step of the way.
He tossed me on the bed, stripped off his shirt and climbed on top of me, kissing me and caressing me with heavy breath with my legs once again parted just for him.
“If we’re going for this, I want to go all the way–and I don’t mean just tonight. I love you and I want to be with you. I want to be the first thing you see in the morning and the last thing you see at night; you understand?”
I nodded, pushing onto his back and fitting between his thighs grabbing at his waistband pulling off his bottoms and underwear. My face fell into his crotch. I didn’t put my mouth on his shaft. I just kept it in the blackish forest of pubes right in the fold of his thighs snacking at his nutt sac every once in awhile. But I was drawn further down by a strong masculine scent, a clean scent infused with one of those expensive body gels.
“Grab your ankles.” I told him.
I slowly rolled the length of his long frame onto his upper back, tenderly kissing the underside of each of his buttcheeks. When I got him where I wanted him, I felt him jerk as I swirled my tongue into his hole. I pulled his cheeks further apart letting my spit quickly dry right there before licking and kissing the outside again. He squirmed and moaned, making me laugh a little to hear such a girlie sound come out of the mouth of such a masculine man.
I had him for awhile like that, listening to him beg for me to stop while his body shuttered against my face. I eased him down doing what I had been doing before sticking my thumb into his ready hole as my tongue rolled back up to pluck at the loose skin holding his family jewels.
“Soft and wet,” I smiled. Taking my thumb as far as it would go into his hole.
“Only for you babe…only for you,” he groaned after he was able to come back to from the ecstatic abyss.
Reggie reached over at his side. His palm out underneath this pump attached to this oversized bottle of lube on the nightstand that he pushed down on with his thumb several times. He looked at me squarely in the eyes, bringing his legs back up over his chest, and slowly smeared the clear gunk over his exposed hole, catching the runoff and bring it back where it was needed.
“Let you know how serious I am about us.” He choked, letting me push as much of it as I could into him. “But be easy, though, man. I’ve only been fucked once and that was a long time ago.”
“When?” I asked, spreading his legs out by his ankle.
“High school,” he heaved, preparing for what was to come.
“Who?” I asked, teasing the tip of my dick against his hole.
“Coach Riley,” Reggie murmured.
“Was it fun?” I said nuzzling the head in.
“Yes…after a while,” Reggie quavered, wincing and panting for breath brought on by the tinges of pain he was surely feeling in his tight rear. “It hurt like hell at first, but he promised that I was going to love it long before he got done.”
“Did you?” I reared out.
“Yes,” he grumbled, looking up at me, pushing against my flat stomach. “He was a man of his word.”
“And I’m a man of mine.” I said making the same promise.
I listened to him whimper, pulling back without coming out and pushing back in just enough for him to get use to my size, gradually going deeper and deeper into him. He was crying that I was sawing into him, that I needed to stop. I slowed down, but not enough to stop. If we were going to be together like we thought we were, he needed to get use to me as I was certain that I would have to return the favor some day.
“Trust me. Your man got you.” I said, with him grunting and groaning with some mild yelps on my way to forcing him to take me down to the hilt. “That’s all of me. I ain’t going to move. I want your friend and my friend to get acquainted because they’re going to be best friends.”
He smiled with tears streaming down his face. It was so much going on in his face that I didn’t know if it was from the pain of me being in him or the joy that we were finally together. I let him tell me when he was ready to go further, when he rocked his hips against me, pulling away enough just to get back on.
“Just like old times, huh?” I said, feeling his tight ass muscles finally coming around to clenching my dick as I got off into slow fucking him.
When he chuckled, I pulled back out just enough to keep the head back in and rammed my way back forcing another one of those girlish shrills to come back out of his mouth.
Because this was our first time together, I held back from the power fucking I was good at performing, hearing thighs relentlessly slap against some big, beautiful ass. But this wasn’t just some random piece that I scored, this was my baby from here on out. I gave him what he needed to enjoy himself and he returned the favor in kind, slow to succumb the fact that he didn’t need to hold back from me the feelings he was feeling deep inside.
He grabbed my ears when I started to loosen him up real good, bringing him to a new edge. He was grabbing my ass, pushing every inch of me that I could get into him in him. If he was a girl, he would’ve been teased for being a bitch in heat. Every time I thrashed into him, leveling him into a deeper submission, he yelped a sweet yelp that brought another hundred pounds of raw passion out of me. The bed was rocking like a rickety roller coaster that seemed to be ready to break at any second. I didn’t care. I was deep-dicking my boy, my lover, my friend by this point with a great amount of confusion of where he ended and I began. I was wiping my brow with sweat for the millionth time when I looked down and saw that the sheets were soaking wet.
“You’re going to have me break this dick off in you!” I shouted.
“Break it off in me, baby. Break it off in me!” Reggie screamed, clinging on to the underside of the headboard behind him with the biggest pearl of precum that I ever laid eyes on.
I went in harder and faster, rotating my hips deep inside of him, my hairy sac tickling his stretched hole when I felt my dick get bigger and a few seconds later everything around it is getting wetter and wetter with a deluge rushing out of him.
“Don’t pull out.” He pleaded with me trying to catch my breath.
Reggie looked like he was trying to do the same thing, but quickly shot over everything he had over me and him without even touching himself.
“I won’t.” I said, holding down one of my nostrils trying to blow out the dollop of wad that went straight into it!
* * *
Fifty years later, many years after we had adopted two boys and my three brothers upon the illness of my mother, their grown children come barging into our house on the beach to find their favorite grandpas covered in gooey white stuff and still making out naked under the mistletoe.
