Hindsight Sucks Big Time - 1. The Breakup and New Situation

Four years ago

"You God damned, lout of a Leftist, freckled fucking son of an unfaithful pig! The apple didn't just fall from the tree; it dropped as a twisted fruit!”

"Calm down, Laura."

Scott O'Connor had just been caught using a gay chat app by his wife of fourteen years. He'd placed his phone down to answer the door, thinking Laura was still asleep. She wasn't.

"Calm down?” Her words not only dropped an octave, but the cadence flowed down like streams of lava dripping down an active volcano. “You are using a fucking faggot app,” she accused while shaking the phone with the still unlocked screen displaying his private messages. “Sexting and seducing some quacky queer with that hairy ass, and you want me to calm down? Really?"

Scott’s mouth felt dry. For years, he’d thought of broaching the subject. He’d held onto the smallest glimmer of hope that Laura might accept him as he was; that they’d somehow find a compromise that wouldn’t involve throwing everything they had together down the drain. But that tiny speck was being snuffed out right in front of him.

"It's not what you think,” he said.

"Not what I think,” Laura scoffed as she turned the phone’s screen back towards her. “Let me see, 'It was great getting together with you last week,’” she mocked. “‘Love your body,’” she continued, her voice dropping to a growl as she emphasized the final three words of the text. “‘You taste lovely.’”

The expression on Scott’s face showed equal parts guilt and pain. Somewhere deep down, he expected her rejection. But he didn’t think her words would slice so sharply.

“Well! Must have been some fucking business trip,” she added, raising her fingers in mock quotations. “Were you the pitcher or the spread-eagled catcher?” She questioned as she threw his phone back so suddenly that it smacked painfully against his chest as Scott scrambled to keep it from falling.

Just when Scott opened his mouth to respond, she held up a hand.

“No, wait, I seriously don't want to know. Just get the fuck out."

"Wait, I..."

"You can explain? Is that what you were going to say?” Laura huffed. “Go and kiss someone else’s hairy ass, you fucking flamer.” She heatedly pointed towards their bedroom and once again emphasized each word that followed as if she were talking to a child instead of a grown adult. “Pack yourself a bag and get the fuck out."

"Laura..."

"GET THE FUCK OUT!!!!!!!"

Scott felt he had no choice. He'd fucked up. With a sinking feeling, he realized there was no changing his wife's mind.

As he packed his belongings, Scott thought of his immediate next steps. A motel. Then, he browsed for a new place close to his job on his phone.

Six months later, the divorce was final. Three months after that, his alimony payments stopped when she remarried. That was when he’d found out she'd been seeing someone else while they were still married, the hooting hypocrite.

He was still a little pissed off about that. But when he found out that the other guy was a little older and a millionaire, he knew he'd be free of the bitch financially. His annoyance quickly abated after that.

Despite everything, Laura ended up getting what she wanted. With the rich guy, she even had the kids she hadn’t been able to have after all. Mr. Moneybucks came with four daughters; all between eleven and seventeen.

Present day

Scott was now three years past his fortieth birthday. He'd had a few quasi-boyfriends since the divorce, but none were very serious. Lately, he gravitated to guys who wanted to fool around with a new partner for a few months and then move on. Well, if he was going to be forced to play the field, he may as well enjoy it. Picking up Jeremiah Adams on his way home from work was a sure sign of that.

Twenty-one, with unruly, sandy-blond hair and light olive skin, the young man could have been an actor. His brown eyes were somehow brighter than one would think they should be. It must have been the hints of gold in them that made them so special. Jeremiah was on the shorter side, maybe five feet six, but his body was perfectly proportioned, without a discernible ounce of fat anywhere. Scott was about to see exactly how little fat there was.

"I can get you a robe,” Scott suggested aloud. “My pants will all be too long, but you should get out of those wet clothes. I can throw them in the dryer for you."

"I don't need a robe,” Jeremiah dismissed with a flick of his hand, having taken less than three seconds to begin peeling off his drenched clothes. “Unless my nakedness bothers you."

Scott swallowed hard at the sight. When was the last time his own body was that tight? The words almost left his mouth, 'Fuck no, I’m not bothered!' Instead, he said, "Um, no. I-I don't have a problem if you want to be nude."

"You're not as soaked as I am, but maybe our clothes could take a tumble together?” Jeremiah pointed out. “Also, can we shower? I'm kind of chilled.” He added as he rubbed his upper arms. His gaze then flicked towards the bedroom. “Maybe then we could take a tumble together in your bed."

"You're quite forward, aren't you?"

Jeremiah shot him a grin. "When I see what I like, I take it."

"I like what I see as well," Jeremiah had removed his shirt and was in the process of removing his pants, "Oh, boy, do I like it."

"But first, no point in the tacos and burritos going to waste,” Jeremiah changed his mind when the loud growling of his stomach reminded them both he hadn’t eaten yet. “Mexican food, in the nude, with a hot dude, who isn't a prude.” He rhymed in amusement, placing his hands on his hips. “Something that wasn't on my bucket list before, but it sure is now."

Scott let out a surprised laugh for the first time in months. "Alright. You've convinced me."

Scott finished stripping and threw their clothes in the dryer. Then, they made their way to the kitchen. They began eating their tacos and burritos in companionable silence until Jeremiah struck up a deeply philosophical discussion.

“...so, the pretzel bun from Mr. Big Burger, with the thick, juicy patty from Five Guys, and Checker's seasoned fries?” Jeremiah concluded.

“No, McDonald’s fries are the best-” Scott began before he was cut off by the blond.

“Yeah, until they get cold, then it's like eating cardboard.”

“The hamburger patties are like eating cardboard,” Scott countered. “But their fries are perfect. You don't mess with perfection.”

Jeremiah let out a snort and playfully flicked one of his cheesy fiesta potatoes at Scott. It lodged itself on his arm hair and stayed there until Scott brushed it off.

“Definitely time for that shower,” he prompted. The two of them cleaned the table off and tossed everything in the trash before making their way to the restroom.

The shower was a walk-in, but just big enough for both of them to fit. Scott washed up quickly, expecting them to swap out. But as he rinsed and turned around, he saw Jeremiah slipping in.

Scott's blue eyes darkened when Jeremiah locked gazes with him as he lowered himself onto his knees without breaking eye contact. If Scott tried such a thing, his knees would've been screaming bloody murder. But the blond man below wasted no time in wrapping his lips around the head of his half-hard shaft.

Jeremiah moved steadily forward until he held all of Scott's flesh inside his mouth. He hummed until he felt Scott harden until the head hit the back of his throat. Then, he began to move in earnest, sucking hard as his hands latched onto Scott's hips.

Scott gasped at first. His breathing quickened, and soon he was virtually panting. He would hyperventilate soon if he didn’t calm down. Fortunately, calming down was forced upon him when he felt his orgasm growing. When it hit, he exclaimed loudly, “Oh, Gawwwwwd!” Jeremiah kept at him for a few moments more, but Scott had to pull away.

“I don't know what I was expecting, but it wasn't that,” Scott admitted after taking a few deep breaths. The young man was more skilled than he'd previously thought. He couldn't help but feel another jolt of arousal seeing Jeremiah's pleased expression as he stroked his own leaking, hard member. “I'd say I even owe you some change. Come with me."

After drying off, a little anyway, Scott led Jeremiah to his bed. He paused at his nightstand to grab his lube and a couple of condoms. “Is one each okay?”

“It’s at least a good start.”

Scott smiled, but he needed some recovery time. Glancing down at Jeremiah, his nearly eight-inch prick had already recovered nicely. Scott got on his bed, on his hands and knees.

“Is this good?”

Jeremiah licked his lips, “More than good. But I’d better taste it. Just to be sure, you know.”

“Of course.”

Jeremiah spent a couple of minutes rimming Scott’s rosebud. Scott couldn’t wait any longer. He passed the lube and a condom back to Jeremiah, who immediately took the hint. When Scott’s ass and Jeremiah’s condom-coated dick were sufficiently lubricated, he started entering Scott. He wasn’t quite halfway in before Scott thrust backwards, his ass enveloping the rest of Jeremiah’s cock in an instant. Jeremiah understood Scott wanted it hard and fast. He happily obliged, riding Scott hard for three or four minutes before he exploded. Scott collapsed beneath Jeremiah. Jeremiah remained attached. After a minute, Jeremiah rolled off.

They laid together for a bit, Jeremiah gently fondling Scott. Sooner than Scott expected, he was rock hard again. Jeremiah rolled off his side, onto his back, and pulled his ankles up over his shoulders. Scott had never received a better nor more obvious invitation before. Like Jeremiah, he rimmed for a couple of minutes before he felt a playful tapping on his head. Scott looked up, his tube of Astroglide nearly hitting his nose.

Scott smiled at Jeremiah, “I think that’s the first time a tube of lube hit me in the head.”

“I assume you know what to do with it?”

Scott teased, “I think I can figure it out.”

Scott spent about five minutes figuring it out before he released his sperm into the second condom.

After the tumble in the bed, they laid down together, facing each other.

Scott began, "I know you said you didn't have anywhere to go. Would you like to stay here a while?"

"A while, meaning a few hours, days, what?"

"As long as it takes before we want to kill each other?"

Jeremiah laughed, "That could turn into a long while. I'd love to take you up on that, but there are a couple of things I need to do first."

Disappointed, Scott replied, "I see."

"No. I meant, yeah, I'll stay a while. I can't go ba... Um, I'd have to go get my car from my parents' house. Ideally, during the day while they're at work."

"You want to avoid them, I take it?"

"Like the plague."

"That doesn't sound good. But I can drop you off on my way to work in the morning. You may have to wait for them to leave. I work from seven to seven. Why weren't you driving last night?"

"The fucking foreign piece of shit doesn't like starting when it's wet, and, well, I just had to get away. Seven to seven? What the hell do you do?"

"Private security. I can't really say any more right now."

"Waiting will be okay. I'm a student at Briar Cliff University; classes don't start until ten tomorrow. I guess I can find somewhere to hang out until seven."

“That’s like way up by North Sioux City, isn’t it?”

“Not as far west, but kind of, yeah.”

"I can give you a key."

"You're awfully trusting."

"You could rob me blind while I'm sleeping tonight; why should I worry about what you might do tomorrow? Besides, I have ways to track you down. Private security, remember?"

"Good point. Unless I lied about my name."

"You've left fingerprints all over the place. Something tells me I'd be able to use them."

Jeremiah found something interesting about his hands. "Why do you say that?"

"You said, 'When I see what I like, I take it.' I have a feeling you've been caught taking things before."

He swallowed, loudly, "Busted."

"Yep. You don't have to worry about being overly trusting when you have the resources that I do."

“I guess not. But, um, if you do happen to find out some not-so-nice things about me, should I be worried about the police?”

“Are we talking assault or worse?”

“No. No, not at all. Petty theft, a little drug use. Maybe an outstanding warrant or two for the same. Just maybe. I don’t know, there are for sure.”

“I can look the other way for piddly shit. I’m no angel in my work either. Gotta bend some rules sometimes.”

“Cool. You want to go again, or is the old man’s little man used up for the night?”

“I’ll show you old.”

Old kept up with young. So far.