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    grahamsealby
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

To Sammy With Love - 1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

 

Peter showered and turned off the tap. Wrapping the towel around his midsection, he made his way to the in-house cafe. All around him, the sounds of the bathhouse continued quietly. Friday nights were always busy. Peter was sure that many of the guys were just like him; married and desperate to relieve their sexual tensions before going home to wife, girlfriend, or family. He collected his long black coffee from the half-naked attendant and found an empty table. The café was not very busy -- after all, you didn’t come here for coffee.

Peter was pleasantly sated. His last encounter was with a young man in his early twenties, who demonstrated impressive sexual agility. Even in the dim light, Peter could see that the lad was superbly muscled. It felt good to possess his taut muscular body.

Peter’s Friday night sojourns were becoming more a need than a habit. Each new encounter was exciting and promised new satisfaction. Around him, males of all ages and shapes were indulging in base acts of pure pleasure.

It was dangerous, it was furtive, and it was exciting He wondered if . . .

“Mind if I join you?” a voice behind him asked.

As peter looked up, the young guy of his last encounter came into view. Without waiting for a response, a can of ‘Fanta’ was set down on the table.

“No, take a pew,” invited Peter. “I was just having a refresher before heading home.”

“Thanks –Yeah, I reckon it’s time for me too; got to get up early tomorrow --um, today. We all need our beauty sleep, by the way - name’s Sam.”

“I’m Peter.”

They shook hands. His handshake was strong, very masculine and just the right pressure.

“You’re pretty energetic. You don’t need more sleep,” Peter observed. “What’s your work?”

“Aww thanks,” Sam replied coyly. “I’m a laborer. I work part time on building jobs. Not got much education, so I just pick up what work I can - wherever.”

“Well, you certainly have a bloody good body,” observed Peter. “And your arse man, I couldn’t get enough of it.

“Bullshit. But thanks anyway.”

They settled into a comfortable silence. It gave Peter a chance to re-appraise the boy called Sam. He had a compact body, powerful shoulders, and arms that reflected his work. What's more, his face was pleasantly tanned and attractive. Handsome . . . no, bloody gorgeous! just the type of face that attracted Peter.

He had dark brown almost black eyes and a well-defined chin. His nose gave him an impish look, and his mouth invited passion. When he smiled, he displayed strong white teeth.

Peter let the silence continue until Sam inquired,

“You live close?” “No, down Mornington way”, Peter responded. “I’ve got an hour’s drive to get home.”

“Oh,” Sam replied offhand. “I only live in Elsternwick, just a short bike ride. Don’t have a car - yet. I’m saving up for an old bomb, just something to get me around. “Expect you’ve got a flashy ride…eh? What’s your work?”

“I’m a sports physiotherapist.” Peter responded. “And yes, I drive a commodore.”

“Geeze - you’re a physio. That explains why you have such a sexy body. When I saw you, I really admired your build. You have a great chest. Love all those black hairs. Bet you work out, hey. You don’t get a body like yours sitting on yer arse”

Now, Peter always got self-conscious when people admired his body. Brenda loved curling her fingers through the hairs on his chest. But he did work out and swim. Younger, he played footy, which is why he had such good legs and arse. Slightly embarrassed, Peter said, “That’s the nicest thing anybody has said to me all day. Thanks, it gets harder to stay in shape as you get older.”

“Arrh - you’re not old. Let me guess, Twenty eight?”

(Laughing) “Close - I’m 31.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Pete saw the attendant approaching - or swaying more like. Even walking, he moved his hips suggestively.

“Hi guys, just thought I’d let you know we’re going to close the shop soon. Anything I can get you before I close?” This he said leering at Sam, who responded,

“I’d like a vegemite sandwich” Both Peter and the attendant looked at Sam, thinking he was joking; A vegemite sandwich. Yuk!

“Well, sweet thing, we have pies, sausage rolls, cakes, lollies and Tim-Tams but, no, I’m sorry, we don‘t sell vegemite sandwiches . . . anything else?”

“No vegemite sandwiches. Are you telling me you don’t have vegemite sandwiches?”

“Yes, (politely) we don’t have a vegemite sandwich on our menu”

“That’s the first time I’ve ever been knocked back for a vegemite sandwich”, grumbled Sam. “They’re not difficult to make.”

“Even so,” flared the attendant. We just don’t do vegemite sandwiches. Anyway, what a ghastly thought. I couldn’t think of anything worse. It not only sounds terrible, even the thought makes me ill. Is that all you ever eat?”

“No, ‘course not. Sam retaliated “I eat lots of other stuff, but right now I want a vegemite sandwich . . . and I don’t like your tone. Youse‘r treating me like an idiot or sumfing. Lots of people like vegemite; they even wrote a song about it.” At that point, Sam began to sing -

“We’re happy little vegemite's, as happy as can be . . .”

“Shut up!” huffed the attendant. “This is a male steam-bath not a bloody church choir. Lower your voice, people will get frightened. You’ll just have to live with it. You can’t have a vegemite sandwich, not now, or ever - OK.”

The attendant almost shouted and, as he turned to go, he offered cuttingly - “Go get a life”.

Through all this, Peter had sat and happily watched the two antagonists go at each other. This was better than TV. Sam was looking slightly flushed and obviously angry.

“Cool down,” Peter said. “Don’t let a little thing like a vegemite sandwich ruin your night. Were you joking? You really had the guy all riled up.”

“No, I’m not kidding,” groused Sam. “It’s only that I don’t eat fancy. I just like vegemite sandwiches. It’s all I eat at home. Sometimes, all I can afford”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get personal - I apologize”

“No, it’s my fault. I hate it when arseholes like him try to put me down. Guess I’ve got a bit of a chip on my shoulder, Eh?”

Not knowing what else to say, Peter drank what was left of his coffee. Sam took a gigantic swallow of his Fanta.

A bit crestfallen, Sam said, “Well, I should be making tracks. I’m sorry if I . . . ,”

“Don’t think about it. I’ve had a pleasant and satisfying night, especially with you back there” And indicated the cubicles with his head. “I hope I didn’t hurt you?”

“Hurt me? Geeze Peter, the moment I saw you I knew what I wanted. I chose you, not the other way round. I hope I don’t sound too arrogant.”

“No, I’m flattered. I don’t get too many compliments. So, thanks -I mean it”

“No worries. Look, I hope to see you again, but just in case, here’s my mobile number. And name.”

With that, he took a drink caster and wrote on the back. Peter accepted and placed it in his wallet, reminding himself to put it away in a safe place before he got home. Peter was very reluctant to give out his phone details, so was relieved Sam didn’t ask. However, he was obviously expecting Peter to reciprocate.

A little subdued, Sam got up off the chair and held out his hand.

“Well, see you round, Peter. I really hope you give me a call sometime. I’d like to see you again.”

As he shook his hand Peter said “Yeah Sam, it’s been great to meet you - sorry about the vegemite sandwich”.

“Arrh, that’s cool. See ya Peter, drive carefully.”

With that, he turned and made for the exit. Peter watched his back as he traversed the room. His T- shirt showed a pair of wide masculine shoulders and the jeans he wore clearly showed his beautiful bum. Peter started to feel horny again.

Looking at his watch it read 1:30 am. With an hour to Mornington, he had better get on the way. His excuses to Brenda about where he was each Friday night were beginning to sound lame. He headed for the change room, passing the attendant who gave him an evil grin. I bet, thought Peter, he’s met all type of characters. , but who could top the ‘vegemite kid’. Getting into his car, Peter breathed a sigh of relief. He remembered the time he forgot where he’d parked the car and had to spend a half hour looking for it, late at night. The thought of telling Brenda that he’d lost the car in a place where it should not have been, worried him.

The drive down to Mornington was easy this late at night and, as he drove, he let his thoughts wander to the young guy, Sam. He was both cute and ‘butch’ - just Peter’s type. On purpose, he didn’t give Sam his phone number. It would be difficult, if not impossible and dangerous, to have a conversation with Brenda hovering around. He could have given his mobile number, but Peter preferred to keep his dalliances private - and secret.

Old fears began to surface with regard to the double life he was leading. Down deep, he knew it was going to blow up in his face someday. When he was younger, he thought that by leading a double life, he had the best of both worlds. To be happily married with kids and at the same time enjoy great sex in the male bathhouses. He married Brenda, six years ago, because he was, and still is, genuinely fond of her. He adored his two girls and tried to be a good father. He was in great shape and felt good - physically.

So what was wrong? He had a great wife, terrific kids, a top job and a nice house and car. Life was great. He should be on top of the world. Yet deep down in his soul, he felt empty. He felt a longing for male companionship. All the love and giving that was a part of his basic nature, needed to be directed towards a steady male relationship.

That’s when his thoughts turned to - Karl. He met Karl about 6 months ago when Brenda invited her friend Maria and her husband around for dinner. Maria and Brenda worked together at the local school. Peter can still remember opening the door and coming face to face with the deepest brown eyes, he had ever seen. Karl came from a German family who settled in Australia about 20 years ago. Though Karl was born in Germany, he was as ‘Aussie’ as you can get.

He was just damn desirable, with beautiful honey satin skin and blond hair. He had his own tiling business and the heavy outside work showed in his great muscle structure. At the end of last summer, the four of them had gone to Mt. Martha’s beach swimming. When Karl took off his shorts and shirt, stripping down to a pair of ‘Speedos’, Peter almost melted. From his wide muscled shoulders down to his tanned brawny legs, he looked like a god. .He had a cut on his mouth that gave him a ‘rakish’ look. However, when Karl bent over to put his sunglasses away, exposing his arse in the process, Peter’s mouth went dry. He just longed to reach out and touch, perhaps slide his finger in between those adorable cheeks.

Yeah, Karl was attractive - and very married to Maria. Slowly they had become close friends, sharing similar interests. Both of them were St. Kilda footy fans, and they loved water sports. They were even talking about getting a kayak for the coming summer.

Now, whilst Peter enjoyed the friendship, he needed more. The urge to kiss Karl had almost led to embarrassing situations, a couple of times. Peter began to realize it was getting harder to suppress his basic emotional needs. His feelings for Karl were getting stronger. The pressure was building painfully.

What could he do? At first, the ‘best of both worlds’ lifestyle had satisfied him, but not any longer. His feelings for Karl emphasized this. His physical and emotional need for Karl had become overwhelming. It was now so painful that he almost dreaded each time they were together. Karl treated him as a close and personal friend, and certainly gave absolutely no indication that he wanted the friendship to progress to a higher level. Karl was a very straight boy.

Peter actually would’ve felt sorry for Karl if he was gay. Karl’s parents were very strict and very German. His father was a minister and extremely religious. Father’s word was law. Karl, being an only child, was firmly under his dad’s control. The one time Peter met the father, the commanding and remote vibes he gave out, overawed him. A gay son would definitely not be welcome in that household.

Nearing home now, Peter looked out across the bay sparkling in the moonlight, seduced by the calmness of the waters. He loved living in Mornington. He loved his job, his family, and his lifestyle. If only his feelings for Karl could fit snug in the overall picture - All would be perfect.

So why was he feeling insecure. Why was he denying the emptiness inside him? Why would he risk anything just to elevate his friendship with Karl to a physical level? He was losing control of his life and this made him frightened - and apprehensive.

As he turned into his driveway, he pushed all these dire thoughts away and entered his house.

Next morning, Sam woke early, even though he didn’t get to bed until 3am. He thought -

Geeze, I can’t wait to pick up my “bomb” next week. No more cold morning bike rides like last night. Melbourne’s autumn weather was no place for bike riding - especially after dark. But, it was worth it. I met Peter. Bloody hell, he’s one hell of a hunk. I can still feel . . . anyway, I really hope he calls me. But I’m not gonna hold my breath.

He could hear his flat-mate Billee getting her breakfast ready. He was very lucky, for as well as sharing the rent, Billee had become a good friend.

When he arrived from Perth, he didn’t know anyone, save for an aunt who lived down Mornington way. She knew all about the drama with his parents, especially his dad. When he told his folks he was Gay, they both reacted badly. His father was disgusted, and told him he was no longer welcome in his house.

It wasn’t unexpected. His dad was a builder and very much a‘man’s man’ and being religiously conservative he just couldn’t, or wouldn’t, face the issue. His mother was also concerned that she would never have grandchildren.

Staying at home was not an option and staying in Perth completely unpalatable. He decided to make a clean break and flew to Melbourne. His aunt helped by finding him a place to stay, so here he was.

Sauntering into the kitchen, he muttered a “morning” to Billee, who was pouring coffee. Lifting the cup, she silently offered Sam a cup with “Good morning sunshine”.

“Ta, I need this”, said Sam as he grasped the steaming coffee mug. “You’re an angel.”

“A good night?” queried Billee, pulling her wicked floral house- gown around her. She was attractive and tended to wear bright colors to advertise her personality. Her makeup was flamboyant, yet she seemed to be popular. Sam had ceased trying to follow who her latest ‘guy’ was. From the little she had told him, Billee had her own life trauma, with a previous marriage. As far as he knew, there were no offspring to complicate the messy separation.

“Yeah, it was, very - I think.” Sam eventually responded, whilst staring at the steam arising from his coffee. He was still thinking about the guy last night - Peter. In fact, he felt a strange emotion taking hold. Something inside him jibbed with the guy. He had not felt an attraction like this before. He had even allowed the guy to fuck him. - Protected of course. He felt vulnerable, a little uncomfortable, but glad of the encounter - nonetheless.

“Geeze Sammy, what’s with the ‘I think’. Did you get a root or not?”

“Mind yer own business bitch," he said, smiling. “I’m not going to give you any personal details”.

“Well, that means you did. But you seem a bit down - is anything bothering you? You can always tell Aunty Billee.”

“Yeah, I know. Thanks for that. You’re my best pal. But, I don’t know, there is something about the man I met last night that keeps troubling me.”

“Tell me about him - what happened?”

“Well, I got to ‘Spartacus’ about 9 pm or so. After undressing and showering, I strolled around a bit just to see what or who was there. You know I don’t like young guys or even guys my age, so I tend to be a bit choosy. I had a bit of a fling with a blond hunk that turned out to be rough trade. And I mean rough. UGH - God, do I hate that.”

“After that finished, I took another shower - I felt dirty all over. Just as I was strolling around, in walked a man who instantly attracted me. Seriously, he was a spunk. Yeah, I reckon he looked a lot like Mickey Angelo’s David - with a hairy chest. He was very me. I thought he was some kind of God, come down to visit. A beautiful face, as well as and a body to die for.”

“And you tell me this dreamboat is Gay?” Billee interrupted. “He’s too good to be true.”

“Yeah - anyway, I stalked him, and by the way he shopped around, I could tell he liked younger guys, so I fired a broadside and wiggled my arse. That’s all - no more details, it’s personal.”

“Oh Sammy, you’re such a wanker. You always get coy when it comes to talking about sex. So, what’s next, are you going to ring him, or meet again?”

“Oh yeah”, sighed Sammy. “I gave him my mobile number, but he didn’t give me his. Guess I’ll just have to wait and hope he calls me. If he doesn’t, well it’ll be a pity, I really liked him.” As an afterthought he added, “His name’s Peter.”

”Sammy, don’t be so negative. I’m sure he’ll call. There aren’t many ‘Sammy’s in this world. Anyway, the guy who’s selling you the car called and said all the paperwork is ready. Come pick up the car when you’re ready.” Billee took a sip of coffee and grimaced. “Shit, this is too strong.” Then she continued, “Hey, I bet you’re pleased about the car?”

“Yep, just in time. My aunt called to say that it’s her husband’s birthday next month. She’s throwing a bbq and invited me along. They live in Mornington, so I’ll put the car to good use.”

“Sure kid, but remember DON'T drink and drive. Better to take the train”

“Yeah, I know. I’ll be careful. You got a date tonight?”

“Nope, Vera’s coming past around eight, and we’re just going down the local pub. Join us if you want - Vera thinks you’re cute.” Then Billee lowered her voice and asked -.

“Have you heard anything from your folks back home? You haven’t said anything for a while. I can tell if something’s bothering you.”

“No, not a lot; only me mum called to see how I’m getting on. My dad - forget it.”

“Sorry kid, I know you hurt deep down - life’s a bitch isn’t it? But just remember, you had no choice. Oh, I don’t mean about coming to Melbourne. I’m talking about telling them you’re gay. You did the right thing. Let’s just hope your Dad softens in time. But it’s very important that you keep in contact with your mum.” And then she shuddered and became angry.

“Jeessus, I hate religion. All a religion does is to teach people to discriminate against other people. From what you tell me, your Dad, being brought up as a catholic, was brainwashed from the get go. But it’s not just the Catholics, all religions are the same.”

“Tell me something I don’t know,” said Sam. “Oh and thanks for the offer tonight, but I’ll pass. This arvo I’m going to the footy with Alex, and after that, well, who knows? Maybe I’ll get lucky - Again”

Billee stretched wide showing a dazzling color display with her gown. “Well, best get my finger out and start cleaning up. But hey, we have to do some stocking up, so why don’t we head down the supermarket after we tidy up?”

“Will do”, agreed Sam.

span style="font-size:1em;line-height:1.3em;">After meeting Sammy, Peter drives back home whilst reflecting on his life. Being in the closet has lost it's appeal;he longs to just be himself and live as a gay man.
We learn of his lust for Karl, the golden German boy who had a dark secret of his own.
A chance meting in a pub starts the story rolling.
Copyright @2011 Graham Sealby<br />All rights reserved
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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I really like the way you started the story, even if I did need Google to understand "vegemite". I've learned just enough about the two main characters to want more.

 

Thanks for sharing it with us.

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On 01/12/2016 11:23 AM, said:

I really like the way you started the story, even if I did need Google to understand "vegemite". I've learned just enough about the two main characters to want more.

 

Thanks for sharing it with us.

Ha Ha! 'Vegemite' is an Aussie creation and it's bloody awful. It was marketed during the depression as a source of vitamins that were in short supply during these lean years. There is another product called 'Marmite' which is just as bad and tastes the same.

The only way to eat it on toast with loads of butter. For Sammy to want a special sandwich of Vegemite denotes his youth and lack of sophistication.

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Graham,

i am reading all your stories and am beginning "Sammy". Looking forward to another of your endeavors.

 

Mike

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I've written four stories so far; Sammy was my first and, as such, will always have a special part in my heart. When I hear from folks such as you, I'm motivated to keep writing. Are you an author yourself?

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This is very nicely done..."all religion does is to teach people to discriminate against other people"...LOVE IT!! That is sooooo true!! If this is your first story...then I greatly look forward to reading all others...thanks for sharing the talent!!

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