“Since we first looked at each other yesterday, I’ve thought of nothing else but you, how I want to be with you, see you, feel you near me, know everything there is to know about you. Yes, I want to have sex with you, too, but I can’t think of anything I’d prefer right now to having you sitting here with me. What’s gnawing at me inside, the hurdle I can’t seem to get past in this idyllic picture, is the fact that I’m more than twice as old as you, and I don’t know what to do about that.”

  Having said more than I probably should have, I let my hand drop from his mouth. He seemed to study me with some curiosity before he said, “But I like older men.”

  “There’s more to it than that. It can’t be that easy.”

  He set his drink down. Without hesitation he reached over and began unbuttoning my shirt, which both startled and pleased me. With my shirtfront open and the tails pulled out of my trousers, he ran his hand across my chest, spreading his fingers through the embarrassingly gray hair that grew there.

  “Man, just let it go,” he said. “Don’t get hung up about our ages.”

  Blade slowly slid his hand around my ribs, embracing my belly, then laid his head against my chest. I put my arm around him, stroking his short, bristly hair before settling with my hand resting on the side of his neck. He closed his eyes. Soon his breathing slowed and he slept.

  What a day it had been. Barely twenty-four hours before, I had been the old Jack, shopping with my friend Paul. And now, having been a bundle of nerves all day, I was suddenly feeling like a new, transformed Jack. How in the world had I gotten from that old Jack to this new one, lounging on my couch with this adorable young man lying asleep on my chest? I fell asleep myself, holding Blade in my arms, listening to him breathe.

  I opened my eyes to find Blade opening my trousers. Already he had unbuttoned the waist, and now he was sliding the zipper gently down, intent on silence. After laying back the fly of my trousers, he slid his hand through the fly in my boxer shorts. His hand lingered a moment, then he lifted my dick and balls through the opening in my shorts and lowered his head to meet them. Holding my balls loosely in his hand, he took my dick completely into his mouth and held it there. We both felt my dick getting stiffer.

  Blade no doubt realized that I was awake. I lay there for several minutes, simply looking at the shape of his head resting on my hip, feeling my dick swell in his mouth. I moved my hand to feel him, the bristles of his hair, the shape of his ear. I felt his pulse when I rested my hand on his neck.

  “You don’t have to do this, Blade.”

  He slid his lips slowly up the shaft of my dick, kissing the tip as he let it fall from his mouth. He turned his head so that he could look at me, mesmerize me again with his eyes. “I know. I want to.” He watched me until I blinked. His mouth took on the same hint of a smile, I smiled, and the matter was settled.

  Blade pushed himself up onto his knees at the end of the couch and started tugging at the cuffs of my trousers. Rather quickly, if somewhat inelegantly, my clothes were lying on the floor and Blade snuggled between my legs, wiggling his ass in the air, and wriggling his arms under my thighs, preparing to enjoy himself.

  I might never understand the life that Blade had led so far, but right then I was quite willing to be grateful for at least some of his experiences. He licked my balls, moving in ever-widening circles to lick the insides of my thighs. That, combined with the sensation of his beard scratching against my skin, caused my skin to ripple.

  It was unbearable ecstasy, relieved only when Blade finally pulled my dick into his mouth. By comparison, the way he moved his mouth up and down my dick was almost soothing. Almost. To be honest, I had no idea what sleight of hand, mouth, and tongue was producing the magic that I was enjoying, but it was compelling.

  My dick was not pleased when I reached down and moved Blade’s head away from it. “You’ll have to stop or I’ll come.” “What’s wrong with that?”

  “Not yet. That’s all. I want more than this.”

  He squatted again at the end of the couch so that I could stand up. I felt remarkably at ease standing naked in front of Blade, my dick still hard, harder than it had ever been. I was unconcerned by his frank appraisal of my middle-aged body, able finally to accept his obvious desire.

  I reached out for his hand. “Let’s go upstairs.”

  Blade followed me to the stairs. We had nearly reached the top when I felt him stroke my ass, heard him say, almost in a whisper, “Stop. Please.”

  I halted, three steps from the landing. Blade began massaging my ass cheeks. His attention seemed focused on the patterns he could make in the fur covering my ass.

  His stroking grew firmer. He pushed gently, suggesting with his hands that I rest my knees on the step, my arms on the landing. As he stroked, my ass cheeks pulled and relaxed. My asshole trembled at its exposure. I gasped when I felt the warm, wet touch of Blade’s tongue. Accompanied by the scratch of his beard, his tongue moved from my balls, across my asshole, and up my ass crack: persistent, slow strokes, over and over.

  He paused in his licking and I relaxed a bit, again too near orgasm, only to feel his tongue press firmly against my asshole, trying to force it open. His tongue pulled back slightly, then pressed in again. I was too close, much too close.

  Reluctantly, I reached behind and moved Blade’s head back so that I could turn and sit on the step. I held his head in my hands, saw the longing in his face. “Almost.”

  We stumbled up the remaining steps and into the bedroom. I stood looking at him, finally up close, holding him by his shoulders, wanting him as much as he wanted me. I couldn’t believe my good fortune, but felt immeasurably happy.

  I dropped my hands slowly down his chest, my fingers tracing the ridges in his T-shirt. When I reached his waist I began peeling the shirt up and away from his skin, watching tiny hairs spring back as I exposed his flesh inch by inch. Blade raised his arms, revealing thick patches of hair. Next, I unbuttoned his jeans and they dropped to the floor.

  I dropped next, getting down on my knees to untangle his legs. As I helped him step out of his jeans the head of his dick poked through the fly in his own boxer shorts. I yanked his shorts to the floor, admiring his dick as it sprang back up to his belly.

  Grabbing Blade’s ass with both hands, I pulled him toward me and buried my face in his crotch, compulsively licking his balls and his dick as though he were my first ever. This time Blade had to call a halt.

  “Man, you really don’t have to do that!”

  I stopped, and smiled at him. “I know, but I want to.”

  He grinned back at me. I stood, taking his hands in mine. I pulled him toward me and we fell, laughing, onto the bed. Our mouths met and we kissed, tongues dancing with passion. We kissed, and kissed more, one long kiss, endless kissing until we had to stop, panting for breath.

  Blade, lying on top of me, pulled his head away from mine. I saw the tattoo below his collarbone. This time I could make out that it was a small bear fetish. I stretched my neck up and licked it tenderly. Blade’s head fell back down next to mine.

  I turned my lips to his ear. “I want you to fuck me.”

  He hadn’t expected that. His body tensed and he jerked his head up to look at me, scrutinizing my face with those cool-blue, sapphire eyes. To be honest, it wasn’t what I had expected either, but right then I wanted nothing more than to feel Blade’s dick shoved up my asshole. He must have seen that, too. His suspicions evaporated and he nodded his assent. He sat back on my belly, legs straddling my body. I tore open a condom package and unrolled the thing down his dick. I squeezed on some lube and stroked his dick a couple of times.

  Blade moved back between my legs, lifting them to his shoulders. I reached around and guided his dick to my asshole. He pushed, I grunted, and we both closed our eyes. Here, at last, Blade demonstrated a lack of experience, but that didn’t stop either of us from screaming with pleasure as his dick forced its way into me. What his fucking lacked in technique he more than made up for with vigor. Natural talent soon prevailed, and his fucking settled into its own rhythm.

  I had been so close to shooting twice already that it didn’t take long to bring me back to the edge. Blade’s thrusts soon slowed and became jerky, and he started panting. I was about to grab my own dick to finish off when Blade arched his back, pressing his dick even deeper into me. I was transfixed by the look of ecstasy on his face and the animal sounds that escaped his body, and I shot my enormous load onto my belly without even touching myself. Blade’s body jerked, I shot. He jerked, I shot some more.

  Finally we were both spent and he collapsed onto me, our sweat squeaking as our bodies heaved. I reached my arms around him, holding on tight, as tight as I could.

  Blade’s mouth was next to my ear. When his breathing had slowed some, he whispered to me: “Man, can I crash here tonight?”

  I hugged him tighter still. “You don’t have a place?”

  “I’d rather stay here.”

  I’d deal with my mother later. Right then all that mattered was having Blade in my arms. “Yes, of course, please. Tonight. Tomorrow. The next night, the one after that….”

  He covered my mouth with his hand, then lifted his head and looked at me. Eyes still sapphire blue. “Man, you don’t have to do that.”

  I returned his look. He pulled away his hand.

  “I know, but I want to!”

  We laughed, and laughed, and then laughed some more.

  Snow

  Jameson Currier

  Outside the window, the snow obliterated the view of the highway, but since Tyler was less than a mile from the airport there wasn’t much to see except ramps and lanes and traffic. The snow had started that morning when he had landed in the city for his meeting: small, enchanting, romantic flurries. By the time he had hailed a cab in the afternoon, four inches were already on the ground and flights were being delayed. He’d gotten one of the last rooms at the hotel, just as everyone—the receptionist, the cab driver, the airline reservations clerk—had started to mouth the word “blizzard” to him, or, rather, started to mouth two words, “big blizzard,” as if the description blizzard was not an adequate enough weather forecast to instill a sense of urgency to get some place and stay there for a while. Now, in Tyler’s fourth floor hotel room, the snow was so fierce it drained the color from everything, the dark green bedspread, the hunting print above the bed, the cherry wood of the desk and chair. Even the air in the room seemed as if it had been washed away, or, rather, had been sucked into a clear bottle and frozen, waiting to be thawed. Tyler, stripped of all his clothes, pressed himself close to the window pane, the stale coolness seeping through the glass like an undetected leak of gas. His shoulder felt sore so he rotated his arm, then rubbed his dry hand across his drier skin. Winter, he thought. Aches. Arthritis.

  Tyler stood at the window with his back to a young man named Brad or Chad or Tad or something like that. Tyler didn’t care anymore what the guy called himself. He had cared the night before, when Tad had arrived, but for the last twelve hours he hadn’t cared at all. Any sense of intimacy Tyler had felt for Brad or Chad had evaporated long ago. Tyler was bothered by his growing callousness—wasn’t this what he had always wanted? Time alone with a young man? They had stayed up late drinking a bottle of wine, snuggling against one another, and watching television till Tad, or Brad, fell asleep. Tyler had absorbed the alcohol quickly, the wine fading into a headache and insomnia. Tyler had held whatever-his-name in his arms until he felt himself sweating, then pushed the young man away so that he slept on his side.

  But by morning a weighty restlessness had seized Tyler, like a mouse trapped in a maze searching for the right way to a piece of cheese he could smell. At the window, Tyler rubbed his hand along the fine hair of his own chest and realized he might be attracted to Brad if he had become someone else. Another Brad. Maybe a Chad, he said to himself with a laugh. I’ve had Brad, he thought. Now give me Chad. Tyler then watched with bored interest as he looked down at his testicles and watched them shrink the closer he moved to the window. If anyone were in the parking lot looking up at his window, Tyler knew they would be unable to see him up there, striped by the blinds, with freezing nuts and a painful shoulder.

  Todd—it was Todd, Tyler decided—lay on the floor wearing only his red flannel boxer shorts, an item of clothing he had sexily revealed with a flourish the evening before. Todd was young and lean. A brunet. Handsome with a nose too big for his face. Now he was busy touching his knee to his nose doing stomach exercises and shooting annoying breaths out of his mouth as if he were about to hurl a spitball. He’d been doing this senseless thing for almost an hour.

  “Let’s go down to the fitness room,” Todd said. “Mr. Tyler?”

  His voice, in this air, stayed even after the meaning was gone from his words. The room remained full of his voice— dropped into corners like packed snow on the roadside in spring. “I’m sure the fitness room is more like a fitness closet,” Tyler said. The edge in his voice was easily detectable. “And it’s not ‘Mr. Tyler.’ It’s just ‘Tyler.’ ” He didn’t bother to look back at Todd. He had studied and studied the body till it no longer excited him. Todd had finely carved abs like the cuts of a diamond, and it was a magnificent display watching them flex and twist and breathe. But what was the purpose, Tyler wondered? He had seen them and now they were ancient history. He wanted something else. But even more, he wanted to be somewhere else.

  “At least the electricity works,” Todd said. “Last year we lost power.”

  “How long did it last?” Tyler asked.

  “Three days,” Todd said. He held his knee to his nose. “Can you see anything?” he asked.

  Tyler didn’t respond. He couldn’t see anything beyond the white wall of snow. When he arrived at the airport yesterday he had been delighted to hear that the flight had been canceled, not from the snow—snow was always expected in this region—but because of the wind gusts. The airport closing gave him a legitimate reason to stay overnight, a bona fide expense report item to submit, a chance to have some fun before returning back to the closeted grind of corporate meetings and lunches and lectures and conference calls. Tyler had seized the opportunity to order room service and a hustler. Todd had arrived quicker than the food. By the time they had finished, though, there were already four more inches to the snow, frozen granules mixed in with the lighter stuff—and the television said bus service had been suspended until the roads could be cleared and sanded. And Tyler hadn’t been so eager to see Todd disappear.

  “Everybody’s always in a hurry to get somewhere,” Todd said.

  Tyler didn’t answer.

  “Do you like my stomach?” Todd asked.

  It was only the thousandth time he had asked Tyler that question. He heard the insecurity creeping into Todd’s voice and if he could placate Todd without using too much energy, he decided he would. So he nodded. He could have easily turned Todd out into the snow last night. Wham, bang, here’s your money, so long, don’t hurry back even though you are gorgeous and it was incredible sex. But it was late and dangerous outside and early on Todd had tapped into that warm fuzzy paternal spot Tyler always felt for the young and pretty boys who looked put upon. Now, Todd’s company had worn thin. Tyler turned and took a long look at Todd’s stomach and managed to work up a grin, trying not to be one of those sour old businessmen, who, well, float into town and hire hustlers. “What’s not to like? You should do movies.”

  Todd stretched both legs out in front of him and pointed his toes, then sat up straight at the waist, a perfect right angle, sure of himself. “I guess,” he said, then smiled at himself. “Best abs in Hollywood.”

  Tyler started to turn back to the window, wondering why he was the one now doing the pampering. Wasn’t Todd supposed to be indulging him?

  “I was in a commercial once,” Todd said. “I did an internship at a television station my sophomore year. One of the camera guys was filming a diet commercial. I got to be the ‘after’ guy. Did you know that it’s not the same person? I always believed that they could lose the weight.”

  Tyler did not react. Too much chatter, he thought, and he tried to tune Todd out.

  “Wanna play around?” Todd said, dropping his voice into that low whispery octave that had so excited Tyler last night. “No charge since you’re letting me stay.”

  “Too beat,” Tyler said, and looked back at the window, weary and bored.

  “I’m going to go downstairs,” Todd said, making it sound like a threat, though Tyler couldn’t imagine what kind of threat it could be.

  “Better put something on first,” Tyler replied.

  Todd didn’t move from the rigid shape he’d got himself into. With the lamp on inside the room, Tyler could see Todd’s reflection in the window and he studied that—the reflection—squinting to see if he could detect the definition of Todd’s abs in the snow.

  Then he looked beyond the reflection. Back into the snow. It swirled and curled and danced in front of his eyes like an overprogrammed computer screen saver. The warmth of the room was pulled up through the window and sucked off into the snow. He looked down at the parking lot and thought he could detect someone racing out into the snow, their hands pumping together like clapping, probably to keep the circulation going.

  At the window he looked deeper into the snow, believing for a minute he saw thousands of men clapping their mittened hands together. They were sure they were going to freeze if they remained motionless, never to arrive someplace warm. Then they disappeared.

  “Tyler?” Todd asked.

  Tyler ran his hand down to his groin, running his hand across his cock. He was aware of Todd looking at him.

  “Is it still hard?”

  “Sure,” Tyler answered, playing the suggestive innuendo game but unable to mask the cynical tone in his voice.

  “How much longer?” Todd asked.

  That raspy voice again. How much longer snowing?, Tyler thought, or in this room? or in this room with him?

 

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