Man In Motion - 16. Mistaken Identity

September 20, 1985

Paris, France

The Concorde took off from de Gaulle Airport just like any other plane, which was a bit disappointing considering that everything before we’d boarded the plane had truly been first class. Concorde passengers had their own check-in area, their own security line, and their own special lounge to wait in prior to boarding. The plane was narrow, with two seats to a side, and there was probably the same amount of legroom you’d have in coach on a normal plane. I’d ended up sitting in an aisle seat with Marcel next to me and JP across from me in the other aisle seat. Robbie was on the other side of JP, next to the window. I sighed with relief as the plane soared into the sky, as that seemed the most visceral indication that I’d achieved my goal. This past week I'd had one major objective: obtaining a passport for Marcel. That I'd managed to accomplish that was a near miracle.

Marcel looked at me and smiled. “Thank you for taking me on this trip. Up until this point, my life has been so mundane. All of a sudden, it is as if a whole world has opened up in front of me. I do not know how to thank you guys.” I grabbed his hand affectionately.

“You're a good guy,” I said. “It’s really fun to give someone like you exciting new experiences. Besides, you are part of our family now.”

“Why am I part of your family?” he asked.

“Because when I bought you, that was the same as adopting you,” I joked, making him chuckle. “And because Jeff Hayes was your father, that makes you part of the Hayes family, and my in-law.”

Is my family rich?” he asked, referring to the Hayeses.

“No.” I said that one word so definitively he raised an eyebrow at me. “Your family is actually what is known in America as white trash.” He looked at me, waiting for the joke, but it didn't come.

“I do not have very illustrious bloodlines,” he said, cracking me up.

“That’s not entirely true,” I said. “Your father was an amazing athlete. He played football for Northwestern University in Chicago. His father, on the other hand, was a brute, a man who beat his wife and sons constantly. The only two of his sons with any potential at all were Frank, Robbie's father, and Jeff, your father.”

“I do not understand, if my family is white trash, as you say, how we can afford to spend $4000 to fly on the Concorde or buy an apartment on the Île de la Cité,” Marcel said.

“Your father was poor, but he was JP's partner, and since JP is rich, that is why you are jetting over to America,” I said.

“Partner?”

“Gay men can't get married,” I said, stating the obvious. “Instead, they have partners.”

“My father was gay?” he asked, somewhat stunned. “But he fucked my mother? How is that possible?”

I smiled. “You should have this conversation with JP. Some men are bisexual. I don't know whether your father was gay or bisexual. He got hooked on heroin and couldn't stay off of it, so when he was tripping he fucked your mom. Wasted people do stupid things.”

“Not all the time,” he said. “It looked like you were having fun.” I blushed.

“You got hard watching us,” I said, throwing it back at him and shutting him up. I didn't push the issue. A 16-year-old guy like him was probably still figuring out what he was. I smiled to myself, thinking that a 16-year-old guy wasn’t too picky about who he fucked; he just wanted to get off.

“So that is how I am part of your family,” he mused.

“Exactly,” I said. “Like I said, we’ve adopted you, but in addition to that, you’re part of our family because you are Jeff's son, and because you’re Robbie's cousin, and Robbie is my partner, more or less. Not only that, but your Uncle Frank is with my mother.”

“It sounds like a big orgy,” he said.

“That's why I bought you,” I teased. He nudged me with his shoulder. Once he’d warmed up to us, he was really fun and playful.

As soon as we passed Le Havre and were over the ocean, the engines kicked in and it felt like we were taking off all over again. I pointed to the “Machmeter” on the bulkhead, watching it go over Mach 1 as we broke the sound barrier. I leaned over Marcel to look out the window. We were flying at around 70,000 feet, and that meant we were so high we could see the curvature of the earth.

They served us lunch and the food was great. In fact, the only thing lacking on the Concorde was space. That lack of space wasn’t nearly that important when we landed in New York in three hours. We breezed through customs and immigration and found a limousine waiting for us. It took us straight to the General Aviation terminal and right up to Stef's plane.

We got out of the limo and walked up to Stef’s plane to find him standing there impatiently, looking worried and annoyed. JP wanted to tell everyone he was negative in person, so that's what this trip was all about. Because of that, he hadn’t told Stef why he was coming home, so Stef was totally freaking out about it, even though JP had been reassuring him constantly, telling him not to worry.

Stef rushed over to JP. “What are you doing here? You are OK? I have not been able to eat all week.”

“You're an idiot. I told you I was fine.” JP said, teasing him. “We have a surprise for you.”

Marcel had been hanging back, standing behind me, so I reached back and grabbed his hand, gently pulling him so he was slightly in front of me. “Marcel, this is Stefan Schluter,” I said, introducing them. I thought Stefan was going to pass out: his mouth fell open as if his jaw had no muscles to control it, and his eyes got so big they looked like they belonged on a bug.

Marcel extended his hand nervously, prompting Stef to shake it, but Stef’s reaction had clearly freaked both of them out. “I am upsetting you? I am sorry,” Marcel said in English. The concern and sadness in his voice brought Stef out of his trance as effectively as if Marcel had slapped him.

“No, it is I who am sorry,” Stefan said, speaking French and getting a smile from Marcel. He gave Marcel a kiss on each cheek. “Your beauty is overwhelming.”

“He's trying to be charming, but he's freaking out because you look like Jeff,” I said, getting a dirty look from Stefan.

“It is almost good to see you, Bradley” he said, pretending to pout. I gave him a huge hug. Stef greeted Robbie and then we climbed up the steps to Stef’s plane.

“Stefan also had a relationship with Jeff,” I said as Marcel sat across from me.

“You are going to delineate my whole list of partners?” Stef asked.

“No, we only have four or five hours,” I teased back.

“You are correct,” Stef said. “That is simply not enough time to catalog my various sexual conquests.” We laughed at that, then Stef looked at me seriously, demanding that I explain the deal with Marcel.

“Marcel is Jeff's son,” I told him. “He was conceived in June of 1968.”

Stefan just sat there, letting that news rumble around in his brain. “That would have been after Jeff left JP stranded and stole all that money from me,” he said after he’d finished pondering the situation.

“What?” Marcel asked. I glared at Stefan because I didn't think the kid needed to hear the really gory details. I relaxed my expression when it dawned on me that I’d started this whole line of conversation.

“Your father and I were together,” Stef said to Marcel. “We had a joint checking account. When he decided to go back on drugs, he cleaned it out.”

“He must have used your money to pay my mother for the fuck that brought me here,” Marcel said, philosophically.

“I am so glad,” Stef said. “For the first time, I feel as if the money he took was well spent.” Marcel digested that, and then smiled really big. After that, while they chattered away happily, I escaped to the back of the plane to hang out with Robbie.

“Hey there. Thanks for letting me sit next to Marcel,” I said to Robbie as I gave him a nice kiss.

“No problem,” he said, smiling back at me. “The Concorde was cool. Small bathrooms though.”

“There are big ones on this plane,” I said, grinning at him. “I hear the bathroom is big too,” He raised an eyebrow in a suggestive way, so I grabbed his hand and lead lead him into the lavatory where I fucked him. We tried to keep the noise to a minimum, but it was tough. When we walked back into the main cabin, the snickers from the others told me we weren’t very successful.

The flight was smooth, and we landed in Palo Alto to find Rafael waiting for us. Marcel’s eyes bugged out as he tried to absorb the sights, but they really got huge when we drove up to Escorial. “This is a palace,” he exclaimed.

“It is a house,” I corrected. “I want you to be comfortable here.”

Everyone was waiting for us, all of them nervous and tense. JP’s plan to make this announcement to them in person instead of over the phone had stressed everyone out, but it wasn’t my deal, so I kept my mouth shut.

Frank was looking at Marcel and I could see how confused he was, so I introduced them. “This is Marcel Placquet. He is Jeff’s son,” I said. “This is your Uncle Frank.” Frank eyed him for a second, then pulled Marcel into one of his trademark bear hugs.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Frank said. Frank was thrilled and ended up fawning over Marcel like he was the second coming. It was funny to see Robbie get a little jealous until Frank remembered to pay attention to his favorite son.

We had timed our arrival perfectly since it was dinner time. We headed straight to the dining room and sat in our prescribed seats, with Marcel taking Mouse's place. Mouse had claimed that he didn't feel like coming back with us, but I knew that what he was really worried about was getting crap from everyone for being with JP.

JP stood at his place at the head of the table. “First of all, I'd like to welcome Marcel to our family. Marcel is Jeff's son. Brad and Mouse found him in Paris, and brought him to us. He's turning into my protégé at the dig site at the Louvre.”

“Welcome, Marcel,” Tonto said abruptly. “Now, JP, enough with this beating around the bush. What's going on? Why are you here?”

“Have you no patience, Tonto?” he chided her.

“You get as old as I am, you learn to get to the point. You should try it sometime,” she said in her caustic way.

“I'm not HIV-positive,” he said. “Is that direct enough for you?” She just stared at him, and so did everyone. I looked over at Ace, watching his expression change from surprise to sheer joy. Everyone got up and rushed poor JP. I thought they were going to bury him alive. There were tears, runaway emotions, and effusive glee, but it got to be just a bit much for me. I just sat there and waited for everyone to calm down.

“So you're still picking up guys on the street?” Jack teased me, gesturing at Marcel.

“I'm making do until you wise up,” I told him.

“I may need your help. I'm going to be dry for a while,” he said softly, making me lower my volume to match his.

“Oh come on, Claire hasn't cut you off yet, has she?” I joked.

“She'll have to in about seven months.” I stared at him, but he put his finger over his lips, telling me to keep my mouth shut. I tried to be stoic and not react, but that was impossible and my face involuntarily split into a huge grin.

Claire turned away from the commotion and looked at us, then frowned. “You have a big mouth,” she said as she playfully smacked Jack, then turned her attention to me. “Let’s see if you can do better.”

“We’ll see,” I taunted her. Then in what was a strange and sad occurrence, we all seemed to remember the baby she didn’t have when she was 16. Claire had made the decision to have an abortion, and now that she was carrying this new baby, the whole deal must be a bit bittersweet for both her and Jack.

“You made the right decision back then.” I said, reading their minds, and sharing their sadness.

“We did,” Jack agreed firmly, which made me wonder if Claire was agonizing about this so much that it was bugging him.

I decided to focus on the present. “I'm so excited to be an uncle!”

“Where is Mouse?” Ace asked, bringing us back into the general conversation. I smiled ruefully at having my happy moment with Jack and Claire end.

“He wasn’t feeling well enough to travel,” JP said. Everyone wanted to ask him about their relationship, but no one knew how. JP sighed. “That was only part of the reason. We are still a couple, and he was worried about the reaction he might get if he were here with me.”

“JP, you're not still having sex with him? We just found out you're well. You can't risk it. You can't be with him. You can’t,” Tonto ranted.

“Tonto, there have been very few times in the past when I've been able to call you on your intolerance. I guess this must be a special occasion, because it is one of them. He is a person, a man I love. He has a terrible disease, and I am supposed to desert him and force him to suffer alone? You would ask me to stop loving him? To hurt him, and myself badly? You would have me throw away his last years of life, making them a living hell for both of us?” JP’s comments were a mixture of logic and anger, and were quite poignant as a result.

“That is not fair, JP,” Mother interjected. “If you are involved with a man who is positive, this nightmare may return. We all rely on you so much. You are much loved.”

Tonto sat there, with her mind reeling, having a huge crisis. She knew he was right, and his words had hit her like a rock, but at the same time she was terrified that she’d lose him. I could tell that Ace and Mother were grappling with the same emotions. “I would like to say something,” I said. “I’ve watched Mouse and Dad in Paris, and they bring such joy to each other. It is truly beautiful.” They were hit hard by my words, because such flowery language was not my style. “But I worry that Dad will get this disease.”

“That is what I’m afraid of, Bradley,” Tonto said.

They were all so somber that I decided it was time to change that. “Dad has always told me to use facts to evaluate a situation, so Robbie and I sat down and calculated the relative risk of Dad’s getting HIV by staying with Mouse versus by meeting a new man. In that study, we have found the risk associated with staying with Mouse and having safe, protected sex was less than the risk associated with breaking up with him. Now of course there were variables we couldn't account for. We weren't sure what kind of sex Dad has on an ongoing basis with Mouse, and we had to guess at how many men he'd have to sleep with before he found another boyfriend. We also had to estimate how many times he might give in to lust and forget to use a condom.” JP glared at me, but Tonto started cracking up, and so did everyone else. JP’s continuing glare made everyone laugh that much harder. He finally saw the humor and laughed along with us, which seemed to be our cue to start drinking wine like fish. Jack and I got really hammered and sat there giggling like two adolescent girls.

Throughout this dinner of drunken ribaldry, Claire had only consumed water. “Claire, would you like some wine?” my mother asked, picking up on Claire's abstinence.

“I can't drink,” she said.

“Why not?” Ace asked, or slurred to be more accurate.

“Because I'm pregnant,” she said to him in the same factual tone she’d used with Ace and me when we were being her obnoxious brothers. At first everyone was shocked, but that quickly turned to glee, as this table of happy, rowdy drunk people cheered that good news.

“To our first grandchild,” JP said, raising his glass and smiling at Mother.

“To our first grandchild,” she said. That seemed to be our cue to celebrate even more jubilantly.

September 22, 1985

Paris, France

The Concorde touched down on schedule, of course. I loved Stef's plane, but there was something about flying on this thing that was just the ultimate air travel experience. It was hard to beat breaking the sound barrier, the elitism of the whole thing, and seeing famous people on the plane. Marcel seemed to be into it the most, which made sense since he hadn’t been outside of France until this trip.

We'd stopped in Claremont on the way to New York for a couple of hours so JP could tell Grandmaman his news. She wasn't as nice about Mouse as the rest of us had been, which was unfortunate, but she was gracious enough not to create a scene about it. For me, the highlight of that stop was seeing Darius and Jeanine. I tried to talk them into visiting us in Paris but Jeanine seemed noncommittal. Darius didn't really understand the concept, but it thrilled me to know that he wanted to visit just to see me. Grandmaman was, thankfully, insisting that he knew French as well as English. Even Jeanine was picking up a few words here and there.

We made it through customs and immigration and found the limo there, waiting to pick us up and whisk us back to our apartment, at least to the degree that French traffic would allow. “It's good to be home,” Robbie said as we walked in.

I thought about what he said. “You consider this to be home now?” I teased.

“Yep.”

“Not Escorial?”

He studied me and smiled. “Home is wherever we're together.”

I cracked up. “That's the corniest fucking line.”

“Maybe, but it's true.” God, I loved him.

We headed to the bedroom and I kicked the door shut and started taking off my clothes.

“What are you doing?” he asked with a smile.

“I want you to make love to me,” I told him. He was about to argue but caught my look, the look that said I wanted him badly, that I desperately wanted to bond with him.

I lay down on the bed on my stomach and felt his mouth move up my leg, kissing and nibbling as it went. I spread my legs to give him total access. Then his hot breath was on my balls, right before I felt him kiss them. There was a gentle nudge against my taint, sliding up toward my hole. I felt a wet sensation as his tongue hit the beginning of my taint. The first nudge must have been his nose. I moaned at the eroticism of having this amazing stud lick and probe me in my most private places. His tongue worked my hole, rimming gently around the edge, then probing more, getting me so hot I couldn't stand it. I arched into him, rising up off the bed so I had my ass completely in the air.

He moved away and I heard the noise of a condom being opened, and felt his hand probing me with lube, prepping me for his invasion. I sensed his closeness as he moved in, his dick head pushing me open. I moaned and pushed back into him, and then we were linked.

He pulled me up so we were both kneeling on the bed while he moved in and out of me. He held my body tightly against his, exploring me with both hands. His fluid hand motions matched his thrusts, and I melded totally into him. We made love for a long time that way, neither one of us feeling the need to change positions, just enjoying each other, getting satisfaction from each other.

I felt myself building up to a huge orgasm, and I knew that he was too, when I glanced in the mirror on the wall, seeing us in the reflection. I moaned at the sight of him fucking me, of his hand gently stroking my cock. Then I saw something behind us. The door was open just a little bit. Standing at the door, watching us from behind, was Marcel. I looked at him and he looked at me, our eyes connecting through the reflection. He had his dick out, a nice dick, almost like Robbie's only smaller, and he was stroking it.

Somehow having him there watching just made me hotter. Robbie intuitively followed my eyes and saw Marcel too. “You like that don't you?” he murmured into my ear. “You like having someone watch when we fuck.”

He was right, and his words sent me over the edge. “Yes,” I said, in what was a moan and a scream combined. I felt my balls rise up and watched my dick as shot after shot of cum flew out. I managed to pull myself out of my ecstasy enough to realize that Robbie was blowing with me, and that Marcel was shooting his load into his own hand. We finished cumming and Marcel fled from the doorway. He was probably off to wash his hands, I thought, smiling. Robbie sighed and collapsed on top of me, making us both laugh. Then I rolled over and let him lay his head on my chest for a change.

“So you think Marcel is gay?” he asked.

“He's sixteen. He's horny. If you had seen two girls fucking when you were sixteen, wouldn't you have watched?”

He smiled. “Yeah. You would have tried to join in.”

I smacked him playfully. “Tried? Shit, they'd have been all over me,” I said with false bravado.

“Guess we should lock the door.”

I thought about that. “We probably should.”

“You don't want to though,” he said, looking into my eyes. “You're kind of an exhibitionist.”

“I don't see why the world should be deprived of seeing my beautiful body,” I teased. He shook his head.

September 27, 1985

The Louvre

Paris, France

“I am sorry, monsieur, you cannot enter the dig,” the guard said politely but adamantly.

“I understand the rules, but my father is working here and I need to get in touch with him,” I pleaded. I figured that pleading might work.

“I wish I could help you. Perhaps if you wait I can ask one of the people entering to get him for you?” I felt sorry for this poor guy who was doing his job by keeping me out but also trying to be as helpful as he could without getting into trouble.

I nodded sadly, preparing to try a different tack to see if that would work, when I spotted Marcel. “Marcel!” I screamed. Marcel saw me and smiled, then headed toward us. Unfortunately I had been standing much too close to the guard, who was obviously in pain since he was holding his hand to his ear. “I'm sorry, monsieur,” I said earnestly. He just shook his head as if to stop the ringing noise.

Marcel came up to escort me in. “He will need a pass,” the guard said, being considerably less friendly now that I’d probably damaged his eardrum.

“I will need to take him to the office to get one,” Marcel said. The guard nodded and pointed for us to proceed.

I handed him some francs. “Thanks. Buy yourself a beer after work. It will stop the ringing in your ears.” He smiled at me, looked around surreptitiously, and stuffed the money into his pocket.

After I got my pass, Marcel led me down to the site where they were unearthing the moat. JP was there, helping them sort through the dirt, looking for artifacts. I watched intrigued as the workers, so focused, gently removed shovelful after shovelful from next to the ancient walls. The look on their faces was really rare. It was a combination of determination and love, plus the fact that they were doing hard work. I wished I had a sketch pad to capture their expressions. JP finally saw me and excused himself.

“Bradley, what an unexpected surprise,” he said. “What can I do for you?”

“I wanted to talk to you,” I said nervously.

“Then let us talk.” He brushed off his jeans and led me away from the noise and the activity. “What is it?” he asked, in a way that reminded me I had interrupted his work.

“I withdrew from the Sorbonne today,” I told him. I saw the play of emotions across his face, with the professor in him condemning the move as an admission of failure, while the father in him knew that it was best for me.

“And you are telling me this now because?” he asked, using my timing as an excuse to be a little bitchy.

“I was worried that you'd be disappointed in me,” I said, sounding like a teenager.

He grinned. “You were miserable there. It wasn't right for you. You made the right decision.”

“Thank you,” I said, then all but vomited out the feelings I’d been holding in. “I feel so relieved. I've been dreading telling you. I thought about waiting until tonight when you got home, but I couldn't stand it.”

He gave me a quick but meaningful hug, then focused on the dig. “Let me show you our latest work,” he said. He led me back to the site and got me the requisite hard hat I would have to wear when I was there. I walked down into what was the moat and ran my hands lovingly across the old stones, the original foundation of the Louvre. It was magical. He saw my expression and smiled. “It is fascinating isn't it?”

“Incredible,” I said. He showed me the relics they'd recovered, including the old bones of people that had been buried there. That was interesting, but I wasn't as into that archaeological stuff as he was. Instead, I was really into the people around me. The way they looked at these things and the reverence they had for the site and their work was so compelling that I was dying to sketch them.

“So what are you going to do now?” he asked. “You're not going back to the States are you?” The last sentence exposed his emotions, the hope that I wouldn't. That was really touching. He wanted me around enough that the thought of my leaving actually pierced through his shields.

“No way. I love it here. Besides, I have to keep my man happy.” He laughed. “I'd like to come here with you tomorrow and do some sketches.”

He nodded, looking at me carefully. “One minute.” He headed over to the office and came back with a bunch of papers. He motioned for me to follow him as he headed over to a scientist who was surrounded by people. He pulled me up next to him as he muscled his way up to this man who was all but mobbed. “Doctor Cambronne, this is my son, Bradley.” We exchanged pleasantries. “Bradley wants to come down here and do some sketches. He is an artist at the Sorbonne.” JP left off the fact that I'd just withdrawn, which I thought was funny because he usually wasn’t that disingenuous. “Would you be willing to offer him a pass?”

“But of course,” said Cambronne. He was a busy man, and I felt guilty for interrupting him. JP handed him the paper to sign, and he dashed off his approval. The other people glared at me for interrupting him, but they didn’t glare at JP. He clearly had a lot of informal power here. An hour later, after a trek through some tedious French bureaucracy, I had my pass, which meant that I could come and go from the dig as I pleased.

October 4, 1985

The Louvre

Paris, France

I was immersed in my drawing, so much so that I didn't hear the person next to me. “Brad,” someone said loudly. I felt a hand on my shoulder, demanding that I pull myself out of my sketching coma.

“Marcel,” I said, as I recognized him. “I'm sorry, I didn't hear you.”

He smiled and looked at my latest sketch. “That is Emil,” he said. “I thought you were drawing the dig?”

“I am, but I am more interested in the people working on it. Notice how Emil has a certain earnestness, a drive, in his expression? You would expect to see that on someone who was doing something physically taxing, yet he is not. He is gently brushing the dirt away from the walls.”

Marcel looked at the sketch, then at Emil. “You have captured it perfectly. But it is time to go.”

“Fine,” I agreed, and began putting my things away.

“Happy birthday,” he said, to remind me I was a year older.

I smiled at him. “Thank you!” We headed home to clean up, and then JP took all of us out to dinner. I had a blast, especially since Mouse seemed to actually be energetic for a change.

“I want to go out,” I told them.

“Can you excuse us,” Robbie said, then pulled me aside. “Babe, I have a massive project due on Monday. I need to work on it this weekend. If you want me to go out, I will, but I'd rather finish up at the library tonight so I can do the rest at home over the weekend.”

“Alright. Fine,” I said, pretending to pout. He was really into his courses, motivated in a way I'd never seen before, and his resulting design work was really incredible.

“Maybe you can even help me. Sketch an elevation or two?” I smiled. I loved doing that with him. It made us a team and kept me involved in his studies.

“Go. Go to the library. I will drink alone,” I said dramatically.

“Alone?” Mouse said. “What am I? A fucking ghost?” So we headed out on the town, Mouse and JP, Marcel and I, and had a blast. We even went to a dance club and found out that while JP was one hell of a dancer, Marcel was not.

I staggered back to the apartment with the others, drunk and exhausted, barely able to walk. Somehow I found my way back to our room. I was sad to find that we'd beaten Robbie home. I was horny, really horny, and in the mood for him to fuck me. I smiled and took off all of my clothes and lay on the bed face down, my legs spread wide in an inviting gesture. I chuckled to myself and then passed out.

I woke up later and the room was pitch black, just as it should be. I liked it like that, and I slept best without light shining in my eyes. I was trying to figure out what had woken me up, since it wasn’t the light. I glanced at the digital clock and saw that it was two in the morning, which meant I’d only been home for half an hour. I was about to doze back to sleep when I felt a mouth kissing my inner thigh, working its way up to my ass. I smiled, so excited that Robbie was there. “I want you so bad,” I told him.

“Shhhh. Just enjoy it,” he said, his voice deep and husky. I moaned as he repeated the same moves he'd made that day after we got back from the US. I felt his nose against my taint, felt my hairs stand on end as he inhaled my odor, and felt his tongue tease the back of my balls and then move up to my hole. He worked me gently, gingerly, like he used to when we first became lovers. It was so erotic; I couldn't stop myself from thrusting back into him.

I heard the condom package tear, felt the lubed finger probe me hurriedly. I chuckled to myself thinking that he must really be horny, because he usually took more time with this. Then his dick was against my hole and he was pushing in, pushing with an insistence that was rare for him. I felt him enter me and begin thrusting. God, he felt so good. He was hard as a rock, and so keyed up, I could tell he wasn't going to last very long. I adjusted my ass to give him better access and to make sure he hit my spot, and lifted my hips off the bed enough so I could stroke my cock to match his thrusts.

I heard him moaning now and knew he was really getting close. I felt my balls rise with my orgasm, and then I felt him cry, moan, and really thrust into me. I felt his dick pulse as he started shooting, and I stroked myself to an orgasm that matched his. After we came, he didn't cuddle with me as he usually did. Instead, he gently stroked my back and my ass. That bothered me, but I was too happy from our fuck to get pissed about it.

I lay there contentedly and was almost asleep when I was blinded by the lights going on. I heard Robbie yell, “What the fuck?”, and heard a stampede of feet, of people running around.

“What are you doing?” I said, letting him hear how irritated I was. “Just turn off the light and come back to bed.”

“You don't need me. You found someone else to fuck you!” He said loudly.

I sat up and looked at him. “What are you talking about? Why are you doing this to me? One minute we're making love; the next minute you're blinding me with lights and yelling at me.”

I saw a whole bunch of expressions play across his face, and then I noticed that he was fully dressed. His anger had woken me up but unfortunately it had also woken up my stomach, and I picked that moment to puke all over myself and all over the bed. I saw his look change to one of disgust as he turned to leave. “Fuck!” he shouted.

“No. Robbie. Please. I don't know what the fuck is going on,” I said in a pleading tone. He was almost to the door, and fuelled my desperation. “Help me!” I begged.

“You want me to help you? Seriously?” he demanded.

He turned to walk out of the room, so I shouted for emphasis. “Help me!” The force of the yell made me lose my precarious balance on the bed and I felt myself falling toward the floor with a crash. “Ow,” I heard myself say.

“Christ,” he said, still pissed off. He walked over and looked down at me with disgust and rage. “You are fucking drunk.” He pulled me up roughly and dragged me to the bathroom. I almost fell down twice, but he grabbed me and pulled me along. He was not being gentle at all.

He pushed me into the shower and turned on the water. It was fucking freezing. “It’s cold!” I screamed.

“Fuck!” he said, and reached in and adjusted the water. “I am so pissed at you I can't even look at you,” he said, glaring at me.

I started crying because I was so confused and had no idea what I’d done wrong. “Why are you mad at me?”

He ignored my question and focused on my emotions. “You're crying? You're crying? Oh that's great. Fucker.” I had never seen him so pissed off.

“I don't get it,” I said, slurring my words really badly. “One minute we're making love, and the next minute you hate me. Was I that bad?”

An incredible look spread across his face. “We weren't making love,” he said.

“Yes we were,” I insisted. “It was just like we did when we got back from the States,” I said smiling as I remembered that, but his glare turned my smile into a frown.

“Finish your shower. I have to change the bedding. There's puke and cum all over it,” he said angrily, then he stalked off.