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    Tim Hobson
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  • 6,108 Words
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. 

BE ADVISED: This story contains gay sexual situations, graphic depictions of oral and anal sex, profanity, references to alcohol and drug consumption, mild violence, and threats of violence.

Coming Out - 3. The Apartment

We left Bruce out cold on the bed where he landed when Carl cold-cocked him. In his confused state, and desirous of fending off accusations of being gay, he told the RA where to find Carl's drug stash. Now, the roommate from hell really has reason to come after him.

I woke up in an ambulance, with a needle sticking in the back of my hand and two attendants surveying me with grim expressions.

The blaring wail of the siren seemed to pierce my skull. My body tensed with every pothole and corner the driver hit as he raced toward the hospital.

“Am I all right?” I managed to croak.

The man in a white uniform on my left leaned in and spoke reassuringly, “Take it easy, dude. We’ll be in the E.R. in three minutes, and you’ll be in good hands there.” He reached up toward a clear plastic bag suspended over my head and fiddled with some kind of valve.

Darkness overtook me again, and the next time I opened my eyes, I was in a bed in a curtained area with bright lights in the ceiling. I tried to make some sense of the sounds and sights around me. Cold metal pressed against my bare chest as a woman listened through a stethoscope. My arm was squeezed tight as a man took my blood pressure.

Where the hell am I? What the fuck happened?

Seeing my eyes were open, she spoke slowly and evenly, “I’m Doctor Whitney. You’ve had a concussion, Bruce, so try not to move your neck. There are also some facial injuries, but they’re not as serious.”

Of course, I did the exact opposite of her order and discovered I was clasped tight by some kind of big-assed collar. The jolt of pain convinced me not to attempt that maneuver again.

The ER doctor shone a penlight in my eye, flicked it back and forth, and repeated the test on the other. “Pupillary response normal,” she dictated to the nurse, who noted something on a clipboard. “What’s the BP?”

“150 over 100, Doctor.” The man smiled at me and gave me an encouraging nod.

She addressed me again, “Mister Hobson, I realize you’re in a bit of pain right now, but we can’t give you anything until we’ve completed our examination of your head, neck, and brain. The less you try to move, the more comfortable you’ll be.”

“Oh, fuck.” was all I was able to manage. I closed my eyes again, hoping my head would stop spinning.

For what felt like an eternity, but in reality was only a couple of hours, I was wheeled from one lab to another. I had x-rays, blood tests, breathing tests, and a shitload of other tests I can’t remember.

At last, I was brought to a private room and the fucking stiff collar around my neck was replaced with a much smaller one covered in soft foam rubber.

I’d only been settled for a few minutes when a new doctor came in and stood by my bed. “Well, Mr. Hobson, under the circumstances, you’re lucky. We found no signs of brain swelling, and your bones and nerves are all as they should be. You do have a bruised nose and some abrasions on your jaw, but they’re taken care of.”

I tried hard to think, but my mind was still far off in a thick fog. “What about, uh—” I struggled to recall the piece of shit’s name. “—Carl?”

“Is he your roommate?”

I started to nod my head, but the collar wouldn’t let me. “Yes,” I groaned.

“I understand he’s been arrested.”

“For what?”

“I couldn’t say, but since you are conscious and aware of your surroundings, I need to tell you a policeman is outside. He’s been waiting to talk to you. Do you feel up to it?”

I nodded, acutely aware of the pain. The physician saw me wince. “That might not be a smart idea. You’ll want your head to be clear when you answer questions.” He cautioned me, “I believe some serious charges are involved.”

“Against me?” My voice conveyed a mix of shock and fear.

“No, no—against your roommate, I understand. But just in case, how about I tell the detective he’ll have to come back tomorrow?” He hesitated a moment, then added, “And you might want to speak to your parents first—and perhaps hire a lawyer.”

In my barely coherent state, the last thing I wanted was my father and mother brought into this shit.

“My parents?”

“It’s university policy to notify them whenever a student is hospitalized. I believe they’re on their way here from, uh—” He picked up my chart, searching.


“Yes, Denver. I believe your father chartered a plane.”

I groaned. “He owns three of them, so he can take his pick. He flies them himself.”

“Well, when your parents arrive, do you feel up to seeing them, or would you prefer me to ask them to wait until morning, too?”

I sighed. There was no alternative. “I guess you’d better let them in. They’ll raise holy hell if you don’t.”

“So I thought. I’ll keep their visit as brief as possible. Now, back to the policeman—”

We agreed he would tell the cop I couldn’t answer any questions because my brain was still fuzzy, and I needed to rest before I could speak with him. They argued in the hallway for a minute or two, but the cop couldn’t do anything except give up and go away.

The doctor came back into my room. “The detective is coming back first thing in the morning. In the meantime, he has posted a uniformed officer outside your door.”

That got my attention. “Why? Do they think I’m in any shape to make a break for it?”

“No, not at all. It’s for your protection. Your roommate posted bail and the police think he might try to come after you for some reason.”

He offered reassurance, “We’ve put his mug shot at every hospital entrance and Security is ready to prevent him from entering. I think the uniformed man is the last line of defense to protect you from him.”

How the hell did Carl pay for bail? And why would he be coming after me since he was the one who attacked me? Oh, shit! I told the RA where the asshole kept his drugs. Why the fuck did I do that?

I thanked the doctor, who turned down the lights and encouraged me to try to sleep. My night in the hospital passed without any sign of my roommate from hell. I was awakened every two hours, either for a change to my IV or to run me through the now-familiar brain test questions.


As I was finishing breakfast, a tall Black man in a suit entered and introduced himself as Detective Winston Buchanan. He stated that he had a few things he needed to get straight about Carl.

“He didn’t show up here last night,” the relief in my voice bespoke my fear.

“I’m aware of that. I’d be willing to bet he’s in Mexico by now.”

“You mean he ran away?”

“And jumped bail. His friends who put up the cash will be pissed...unless they’re the ones who sold him the shit in the first place. If that’s the case, they may have helped him run.”

The detective had me go over the details of our brief argument and Carl’s physical attack on me. My head had cleared, and I answered as thoroughly as possible.

I hope he doesn’t ask me anything about Pete or where we were yesterday.

“We got some blood out of him. Turns out he was high on cocaine,” Detective Buchanan concluded. With an odd expression on his face, he added, “You’re in the clear...about the fight.”

“About the fight? What the hell else is there?”

He frowned. “Well, you pointed the RA to where he kept the drugs and money, so I have to ask—were you in on it with him?”

Shocked, I tried to sit up. I was rewarded with a hammer trying to pound its way out of my head. A whole bunch of alarms went off, and a nurse rushed into the room. She gave the policeman a reproving glare and proceeded to settle me back down.

“Do you want me to ask him to leave?” The expression on her face made it clear she thought I should say yes.

“No,” I viewed the handsome cop with growing interest. “I’m all right. He’s just doing his job.”

When she had gone, leaving the door open to keep an eye on Detective Buchanan, he turned his attention back to me.

“There’s no solid evidence against you, and I kinda think if you were in it with Carl, he would’ve given you up last night when we questioned him.” He paused and winked at me, “Of course, he’s not the brightest bulb on the porch!”

I laughed nervously, “He’s a real son of a bitch. Living with him has been a total pain in the ass.”

“May I ask why you never requested a different room or roommate?”

With a sigh, I admitted, “What I want is an apartment off-campus by myself. I thought if I let Carl be Carl for long enough, my parents would see the wisdom in that and pay for it.”

The detective nodded his head with understanding. I inspected him closely, making no attempt to conceal my interest.

He was in his mid-thirties with close-cropped black hair, dark brown eyes, and a well-groomed mustache. His dark blue suit was snug, showing off his well-developed muscles packed inside it.

I must have been staring because he turned his head to the right and winked. “Like what you see?”

I blushed a deep red but smiled at him. “If all detectives looked like you, I think there’d be a lot less crime.”

He chuckled, “If only that were true.” He paused for a moment. “Uh, one more thing.”

Oh, shit. What’s this gonna be? Some kind of Lieutenant Columbo surprise question?

“What made Carl punch you out? According to my interviews, he told the RA and campus security some bullshit that didn’t make sense to them.”

I did my best to appear sincere. “I have a gay friend—in fact, a few of them, and he saw me in town with one of them, so he accused me of being queer.”

I took a breath, trying hard to sound indignant. “I told him he was full of shit, but I guess I also teased him a little, and he hauled off with no warning and fucking decked me.”

The officer raised an eyebrow. “It was most likely the cocaine. He had a lot of it in his system.” He made some notes on a little pad he was carrying. “So you teased him a little.” He looked up for confirmation, and I nodded. “What did you say to him?”

I blushed again. “Oh, the usual bullshit. He said ‘fuck you,’ and I said ‘maybe that’s what I want you to do.’ “

He stopped writing and fixed his eyes on me. “And did you want him to?”

“Fuck no!” I almost shouted. “He-he’s disgusting! He never bathes. He smells like goddamn cigarette smoke all the time. He brings hookers to our room and fucks them in my bed—”

After catching my breath, I continued, “Even if I were gay, which I’m not, he’d be the last guy I’d ever be attracted to!”

Why the fuck did I lie to him? Why don’t I want him to know I’m gay? Am I afraid it would change his attitude toward me?

As my outburst echoed through the room, Detective Buchanan relaxed, closed his notepad, and returned it to his suit pocket.

He smiled warmly as he drew the privacy curtain across the open door. Stepping close to my bed, he rested his hand on my upper arm and squeezed. It reminded me of what Coach Brooks used to do.

I never did find out if Coach was gay. Guess I’ll never know. Now, this dude—

The detective’s voice was quiet and friendly, “So if you were gay, which you say you are not, what kind of guy would you be attracted to?” His eyes twinkled as he spoke.

“Well—” I began, “It sure as shit wouldn’t be a creep like Carl.”

I paused and brazenly examined him from head to toe. “It would have to be someone who is clean, takes care of his body, and acts like a real man.” I licked my lips. “Someone like—you.” I raised my head to gauge his reaction.

“Thanks,” he beamed at me. “Glad to hear that.”

He removed his hand, straightened up, and reached into his suit coat, withdrawing a small paper rectangle. “Here’s my card. If you think of anything else you want to say—” he grinned again, “or if you ever move into an apartment off campus...give me a call.”

He winked again, withdrew the curtain, and turned to leave. My gaze was glued to his back as he went out the door.

“Cute ass, too,” I thought with a sly smile.


My parents arrived from Denver in the afternoon, along with Dad’s lifelong friend and attorney, Keith Gardier (he pronounced it “gar-deer”).

The nurse taking care of me washed my face and did her best to make me look a hell of a lot better than I felt. She combed my hair and gave me a clean neck collar.

As soon as Mom walked into the room, she burst into tears and ran to hug me.

Dad approached me with solemnity and addressed me using his stern you’re in deep shit voice. “You should have told us about your roommate.”

“I didn’t know what to do. Carl is a scary guy, and I thought it would be best to lay low and keep out of his way.”

“I understand he may have fled the country,” Keith added. I figured he had been in conversation with the authorities.

The lawyer was somber. “If he ever returns, he’ll face ten to twenty years in prison, so I think you might be rid of him.”

“Why didn’t you ask for a different room or another roommate?” Mom sounded almost desperate.

“I was waiting for freshman year to be over so you’d let me move into an apartment off-campus.”

My father frowned. “I don’t think that was worth waiting for.” It was the closest thing to an apology that I expected from him.

He spoke with determination, “I’ll make the arrangements today. The university will not object—they’re worried we’ll sue them for what happened to you on their property.” He turned to Keith, who nodded solemnly, then back to me. “I think they’ll be glad to have you living off-campus, regardless of whether you are still a freshman.”

We carried on a vague conversation for another half hour before my nurse came in and strongly suggested I needed to rest.

Mom and Dad said they would stay in Palo Alto until I was released from the hospital, which was due to happen the next afternoon. Keith observed that we appeared not to need his services and decided to spend a day or two at the beach.

Well, I wanted out of the goddamn dorm—in the worst way. And I guess the way it worked out was the worst. Fuck it. If all it cost me were a little pain and some minor injuries, it was fucking worth it.


Driving a rented Range Rover, Dad took me first to my dorm. Mom and I packed up my belongings under the watchful eye of the Campus Security officer who guarded the crime scene.

I waited until the two of them were distracted by a conversation to grab my lube and condoms and stuff them deep into my duffel bag.

Carl’s side of the room was completely bare. I couldn’t tell whether the police had taken everything or the university wanted to make it all disappear so people would forget all about Carl—and me.

Afterward, we drove through a beautiful suburban neighborhood to a brand-new apartment complex situated in a park full of trees and fountains.

“Gee, Dad. This is kinda up-scale for a lowly college student!”

“Well, since we’re footing the bill, we want to be sure that you’re safe and living in decent surroundings. We had no idea a dorm room at an expensive university like this would be such a...hell-hole.”

“Tim—” Mom warned in a disapproving tone. For as long as I could remember, she had been on a one-woman crusade against profanity. Of course, Dad and I slipped up in front of her once in a while, but privately, we both kept right on using all the dirty words we wanted.

“Sorry, but that’s what it looked like to me, Julia, and I am certain you thought the same thing.”

They settled me in a furnished one-bedroom unit on the third floor. It wasn’t luxury, but it was definitely above the level of the average college student’s income. To my delight, it had a balcony overlooking the swimming pool.

“We thought this might remind you of your room at home,” my mother explained.

It sure as shit does—except here I can have all the rowdy sex I want and not worry about parents sleeping down the hall!

The three of us ate dinner at an upscale café near the apartment. After dinner, Mom and Dad left for the airport, where they were staying in a hotel before flying back to Denver the next morning.


Alone in my new digs, I took off the goddamn neck collar. The doctor said I didn’t need to wear the fucking thing all the time.

I unpacked, put on a pair of board shorts, a T-shirt, and sandals, and headed down to the pool—the one place that seemed familiar and safe. It was evening, but the temperature was still in the upper 70s, and quite a few people were lounging and swimming.

I was excited to see a lot of men and women my age or a little older. Most of the guys were not shy about walking around in Speedos, and I spotted a couple of them in nothing but thongs, which started making me hard.

As I stretched out on a lounge chair and gazed in delight at the sea of tanned and naked flesh, a deep masculine voice behind me boomed, “Hi, sailor. New in town?”

I turned my head and craned my neck to find the source of the sexy greeting. A tall, handsome Asian-American smiled down at me. He was wearing a neon blue Speedo and shiny aviator sunglasses.

Perhaps five or six years older than me, he was a couple of inches taller, around 170 pounds, with a body to die for—or at least to jack off to, as I was sure I would do when I got back to my room, or rather, my apartment.

His swimsuit left no doubt about what was packed into it. He was already half-hard, which I took to mean he was interested in me. His bright black eyes had a naughty twinkle in them as he checked me out from head to toe, with emphasis on my crotch area.

His pearly-white teeth gleamed as he took a sip from the glass of wine in his hand. As I moved to stand up, he stopped me, “You look like you’ve been through a goddamn war. Don’t bother to get up. I’ll sit.”

He sat on the side of the chair next to me, his legs spread apart, and placed his wineglass between his feet.

Damn! He is deliberately giving me a straight-on view of his package. Shit, I don’t want to sport a fucking hard-on in front of a total stranger on my first night in my new digs.

I tried to take my eyes off his crotch. “Hi. I just moved in. I’m a freshman at Stanford, but the dorm life sucked, so I’m living here now.” I extended my hand, “I’m Bruce Hobson. I’m from Denver.”

Smiling, he shook my hand and squeezed it a little too long and too hard. “So, what the hell happened—were you hit by a bus?”

“Fuck, no. My ex-roommate was a drug dealer and a stinkin’ son of a bitch. He took his meanness out on me and fuckin high-tailed it to Mexico to hide from the cops.”

“Man! This is fucking awesome, dude! Wait till word gets out that we have a real live crime victim! You’ll be swamped with questions and sympathy. Not to mention a whole lot of tender loving care.” He winked at me.

I grinned back. “Well, I can do without the sympathy, but TLC is something I would never refuse.” I raised my eyebrows to indicate I realized what he was offering and would be glad to receive it.

He nodded. “By the way, I’m David Liu, and I sell insurance to rich motherfuckers!”

We laughed and talked for a while until he gripped his elbows with his hands. “I’m getting a little chilled out here with the sun going down, not to mention I’m practically naked. My flat is in Building Four—where’s yours?”

I pointed up at the balcony, “Right up there. Building Five.”

He checked his watch. “Well, Bruce. It’s been fun meeting you. I’m gonna have to leave you here now. I have a dinner date, and he tends to get pissy if he’s kept waiting.”

He? Now this is going somewhere.

David picked up his wine and stood. He shook my hand, giving it an extra-friendly squeeze, and headed in the direction of his apartment. I couldn’t take my eyes off his tight ass as he disappeared.

This certainly got very interesting, very fast. I’ve gotta make a point of seeing more of Mr. “Insurance for Rich Motherfuckers.”


Back in my new apartment—MY NEW APARTMENT!!!—I called Pete. I dialed the house phone on his floor and waited for somebody to go find him.

This is living. I’ve got my own phone, right here in my own fucking kitchen!

“Hello? Bruce?”

“Who the fuck else? Or have you already moved on to a new boyfriend?”

Pete stammered for a few seconds before regaining his train of thought. “Are you all right? Everybody’s talking about what Carl did to you, and you’re in the hospital, and he got arrested, and now he’s jumped bail, and he might be looking for you—.” He was breathless by this point.

“Whoa, baby. Slow down. I’m OK. In fact, I might say I’m doing fine, all things considered.”

“Oh. That’s a relief.” He took a calming breath. “I went by your room, and it’s got police tape across the door, and the RA says you moved out.”

“True. If I had known all it would take for Dad and the Dean to let me live off-campus was a black eye and a broken nose, I would have pissed Carl off long before this.”

“Is that what he did to you? The motherfucker!”

I chuckled at his growing ease using profanity, “Well, I’m exaggerating a bit. It’s not that bad. I’m out of the hospital, and I’ve now got a private apartment—hint, hint!”

There was a brief silence on the line while he pondered my meaning. Then he whooped, “Yeah man! That means we can...you know.”

“Get naked and fuck the shit out of each other? The thought had occurred to me.”

He laughed so hard I thought he would drop the phone. When he got back under control, he was happy as a kid with a candy bar. “Wow! When? Where? How about now?”

“Whoa, Pete. Slow down a bit. I’ve had a hell of a day, and all the shit happened a little over 24 hours ago. I need to cool it for a while and fuckin sleep. How about I check in with you tomorrow morning?”

“Don’t you have class?”

Shit, he’s right, I’m supposed to attend a mind-numbing two-hour seminar on anchors, embedments, and foundations—components of bridges. What a fucking waste of a Saturday morning at 10 AM. Not gonna make it!

“Pete, I’m going to milk this motherfucker for all it’s worth. The dean already told me to take as much time off as I need, and my professors will help me catch up when I’m ready.”

I snickered, “I think my father’s lawyer scared the living shit out of him by hinting about suing their asses off for putting me in a room with a goddamn violent drug dealer.”

He pouted, “That’s fine for you, but I have a bunch of labs and assignments that’re due. Shit! When are we gonna be able to hook up? I can’t fuckin wait!”

I don’t want to put him off for too long, but I’d first like to take some time to orient myself to my new digs. To tell the truth, I’d also like to catch up with David again and learn a little more about his male dinner partner—and whatever else the guy is.

“Yeah, sorry about tonight. I never expected our date to be canceled by all that happened. How about Sunday afternoon? You free? Wanna come over and see my new place?”

Pete and I met last Sunday, which makes exactly one week between our first kiss and full-on sex with him. Way to go!

He was enthusiastic. “Hell, yes. I can’t wait. I’ll be climbing the walls till then.”

I laughed with him and told him the address of my apartment. “How will you get here?”

“Oh, I’ve got a bike locked up in the garage. It should only take fifteen minutes.”

“Fuckin fantastic. So, let’s say one o’clock. And bring your bathing suit—there’s a big fucking pool that’s a lot of fun.”

I gave him my new phone number and we hung up. As I put the phone down, I chuckled at Pete’s innocent excitement.

Well, Pete, my cute little lamb. We’ll see what happens on Sunday, but my intention is to relieve you of your virginity—more than once. Oh, and I’ll teach you how to do the things to me that I like.

I took two of the pain pills the doctor had prescribed for me and crawled between the brand-new sheets Mom had put on my bed. In no time, I was out like a light.


The next thing I knew, bright sunlight was streaming through the Venetian blinds in my bedroom. I picked up my wristwatch and nearly shit a brick.

Goddamn! It’s one o’clock in the fucking afternoon! I must have really needed sleep.

I tumbled out of bed, turned on the coffee maker, and hopped in the shower. Alternating the spray between hot and ice cold, I shocked myself to full consciousness. The nurse had shown me how to wash most of my face while avoiding getting the stitches wet.

Half an hour later, I pulled on a clean pair of shorts and a loose tee and strolled into the kitchen—my kitchen! Before they delivered me here, Mom and Dad had checked out the apartment and stocked the refrigerator and cabinets with the basic necessities—at least as they saw them.

There’s no fuckin beer or wine, and I’ll have to learn where the supermarket is so I can replenish all the stuff they provided, plus things like cookies, chips, salsa, and dips. And I’ll probably need to stock up on rubbers and lube, too!

I grabbed a box of cereal, a bottle of milk, and a bowl. Taking my late breakfast out onto the balcony of my apartment, I settled down to scope out my new surroundings.

The complex’s eight buildings were arranged around an open square with a spacious lawn and plenty of trees. Picnic tables and various outdoor exercise equipment were scattered across it. And of course, the centerpiece was a swimming pool about three times the size of the one I had at home.

That’s where I want to be now, even though I can’t get in the water. I hope I run into David again.

I returned my dish to the sink and brushed my teeth in the bathroom.

I made my way down to the pool around three o’clock and was lucky to find a vacant lounge chair. I spread my towel on it and raised up the back. Pushing my mirrored sunglasses up to the bridge of my nose, I settled in to enjoy some people-watching.

Because of the stitches in my cheek, I couldn’t go into the pool water, so I resigned myself to admiring the endless parade of nearly-naked men.

If I get a little hard, it’ll be free advertising I can cash in on at a later date.

I was so into checking out the bulges and tight asses that I almost jumped out of my seat at the sound of a deep sexy voice I recognized at once.

“Things can be rather busy here on weekends.”

I tilted my head down and shielded my eyes to peer into the handsome face of my new neighbor, David Liu.

“I’d say this place is hoppin’ this afternoon. How was your dinner date?”

He raised his eyebrows mysteriously, “Shall we just say he didn’t go home until the wee hours?”

My cock stirred at the thought of what they must have done, so I stretched my legs and shook out my shoulders.

I don’t want to be too goddamn obvious.

“Sounds like a good time was had by all.”

He snickered as he sat on the end of my lounge chair since all the others were occupied. Leaning in, he placed a hand on my knee and spoke in a conspiratorial voice, “We had a great time, and I’m sure you know what I mean.”

I tittered like a silly kid in junior high who had been told a dirty joke. He ignored my juvenile behavior and changed the subject. “I can tell you’re feeling a bit better today—rather frisky, some might say.”

“A night’s rest did the trick.” I winked, “Too bad I was alone in bed, though.”

With a roar of laughter, he replied, “Something tells me you won’t have to endure deprivation for too long.”

He cocked his head at me. “Say, I’ve got a decent Chardonnay chilling in my fridge. Care to share a glass with me? That’s provided you’re not on medication that forbids alcohol.”

I didn’t hesitate. “No, I’m off the pain pills. Sounds like a perfect way to end my first full day living here. When and where?”

“If you don’t have any plans right now, why not come along with me? I’ll need to wash off the chlorine from the pool, but you can start on the wine...or join me in the shower?”

That is the most blatant invitation to sex I’ve heard in a long time. I guess he can tell my body is already aching with desire.

I tried to restrain my eagerness, “Lead the way,” and stood so fast I lost my equilibrium and teetered in his direction.

He caught me in his strong arms. “You’re still a bit more wounded than you seem, aren’t you, Bruce?”

I wrapped my arm around his waist. “I only got out of the hospital yesterday.”

“Well, we’d better take care of you. Wouldn’t want to try anything too rough.”

Fuck that! I want you to be as rough with me as you like, Mr. David hot-body Liu.

I recovered my balance, and he led me down the path to his building with his hand loosely supporting my shoulder.

The moment he closed the door to his apartment, he turned toward me, pulled me close, and planted his lips on mine. Taken by surprise, I recoiled a little, which made him pull away.

“I’m sorry, Bruce. Did I misread the signals you were sending?”

“Fuck no! I just wasn’t expecting this so soon.” To make up for my faux pas, I pressed my tongue between his lips, and he responded in kind. After exploring David’s mouth, I began to nibble on his lower lip. Our tongues did battle enthusiastically.

While he was busy pulling my shirt over my head, I slid my fingers across his chest and tweaked his nipples, which rose to hardness under my touch.

I ran my hands down the sides of his abdomen and hooked my thumbs into the waistband of his swimsuit to pull it down, but David stopped me.

“We have the whole evening ahead of us. What say we slow down a bit and try some wine? A little nectar of the gods goes a long way toward making the entire experience more enjoyable.”

Dammit, don’t act like a goddamn fool or a fucking inexperienced teenager groping his girlfriend in the back row of the movies.

I blushed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

He lightly placed a finger on my lips. “I know what you meant, and I assure you I’m interested, Bruce, but the best things in life are worth waiting for—at least for a little while.”

He removed his finger, gave me a warm kiss on the mouth, took hold of my arm, and guided me over to the kitchen. He indicated I should take a stool at the bar while he went around to the refrigerator on the other side.

Extracting a tall green bottle, he picked up a corkscrew and opened it. Turning his back to me, he opened a cabinet and reached up to the top shelf for two wine glasses.

His skimpy swimsuit is stretched so tight it shows off his hot sweet ass. Did he wiggle his butt at me, tantalizing me with what’s to come?

Facing me, he placed the glasses on the bar and poured the golden liquid into them.

The bulge in his Speedo is getting bigger, and it’s driving me fucking crazy!

David handed me a glass. “I’ve gotta take a shower. The invitation to join me still stands.”

I frowned. “You can’t imagine how much I’d like to, but I’ve got these goddamn stitches in my face. I have to keep them dry for a couple more days, so it takes a hell of an effort to wash. I wouldn’t want to put you to the trouble of dealing with all that.”

I winked, “But in a day or two—”

He laughed, “That sounds like an excellent plan. I’ll be right back. Why don’t you take your drink out on the balcony and relax?”

My host disappeared down the hallway and I took his advice and chilled outside. In fifteen minutes, he came through the French door with his wine in his hand.

His hair was damp, but his skin glowed with an exotic light tan color that accentuated his sexy dark eyes. He wore a plush white bathrobe, tied closed with a thick cloth belt. As he walked, I could see the outline of his cock with each step.

I can’t wait to see that thing, up close and personal!

David smiled like a cordial host, “Let’s relax and enjoy the evening.”

I grinned and sat facing him. He raised his glass to me, spreading his knees apart as he did. The robe came open, and the tip of his penis popped into view.

I shuddered involuntarily.

Shit! He’s uncircumcised like fucking Craig was. Why does that bastard keep reappearing in my thoughts? Goddammit! I’m done with Craig, and David is nothing like him—nothing!

David quickly pulled his knees together. “Did I do something to upset you?”

“No, not at all. I—” The only possible explanation was the truth. “For a second, you made me think of somebody else.”

“I think I should be offended.”

“No, please don’t be. He was an asshole and the only reason I remember him is because he hurt me pretty badly.” I put a hand on his knee. “I’m over him, believe me. And being here with you reminds me how lucky I am to be right where I am, right now.”

David spread his legs again, which caused the robe to fall open. I guess the belt had come untied. He crossed one leg over the other, fully exposing his crotch.

His soft uncut penis was at least five inches long, and his balls hung down lower. I couldn’t help staring and imagining what it looked like hard.

“Like what you see?”

“Hell yes, I like it.”

“Well, why don’t we go back inside, where you can examine it more closely in private?”

Bruce has been in and out of hospital. He finally has what he wanted, an apartment to himself off campus. Let's hope it was worth the beating and threats involved. But what about sweet, innocent Pete? Is Bruce going to ghost him? Or worse, use him and then dump him? Has he learned anything from all that has happened to him?

And where is this about to go? David Liu is clearly gay and, more importantly, very experienced. Is Bruce about to get the ride of his life? #weargreenonthursday

Copyright © 2023 Tim Hobson; All Rights Reserved.
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As a writer, I live for reader responses—the reaction emojis and especially the comments. I also welcome direct messages (DMs) on the GA website. If you like (or hate) what you’re reading, let me know. If you have hopes for the direction that the story—and Bruce’s life—might take, please share them. And if you want to reminisce about your own experiences at that age, I bet we’d all enjoy hearing them!

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’m sitting on this high wire swinging my feet back and forth between historical fiction and autobiography. Love both genres. Tell me more …

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18 hours ago, Dan South said:

I’m sitting on this high wire swinging my feet back and forth between historical fiction and autobiography. Love both genres. Tell me more …

What? You want me to kiss and tell?

Thanks for the comment - your analysis is right on. This is fiction, based on real life - apparently life that many of us remember quite well. I view Bruce as a composite of who we all were, and who we wished we had been brave enough to be.

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Loving this Tim. Bruce certainly is going to be doing a lot of experimenting. Good. He needs to.  I was not as brave as a youngster. Got there later though. 😃 

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9 hours ago, Doha said:

Loving this Tim. Bruce certainly is going to be doing a lot of experimenting. Good. He needs to.  I was not as brave as a youngster. Got there later though. 😃 

Quite so. Neither was I that brave, and possibly for good reason. Sometimes, I look back over the decades and lament "the fun I could have had." But realistically, I had all the fun that I had the balls to go after. Sure, I can relive in my memory times when I think a guy was willing to have sex with me and was just waiting for me to make a move (and I also realize that I could be kidding myself), but I didn't read the signs or was afraid or unwilling for some reason. Honestly, even if it had happened, it would not have been what I imagine, so it's actually more fun to keep it in my imagination. What I actually did, and am still doing when the opportunity arises, is my real life, and I damn well ought to appreciate it! Thanks for reading and for the comment. It's good to hear from you again, @Doha

Matt Passmore Hello GIF by TV Land

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