Heart and Soul

Heart and Soul Chapter 3

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3

The Navy

(Seven Weeks After I Met Don)

Don and I saw each other twice a week. Each night ended up with us in bed. Both of us had toiletries at each other's place, plus a change of casual clothes, pajamas (if needed), socks and underwear. He had stayed at my place three times. Never was he judgmental about my house compared to his. I tried to keep it clean and make it presentable. If nothing else, that was a plus to our relationship.

The two of us had embraced our sex life, but we kept it "simple and enjoyable." It was far from carnal or animalistic or raw. There was no "heavy lifting," so to speak. It was primarily oral and hand work. Thankfully, we both felt it was still quite intimate and satisfying.

But part of me was hoping ... one day. I wanted us to really knock it out of the park. At our age, that was an unrealistic goal — or was it? We weren't dead.

Pedro had shown up for class every time but once. I got Don off, and even though he was willing to keep trying, I was appeased with some passionate kissing. He, however, had killer erections every time.

We had spent the night together on Thursday. As we lay there naked, following one of our rowdier nights of mutual blowjobs, I invited Don to join me on Sunday mornings at Joe with Cooper and Larry. I was pleased he had agreed.

While he had met Cooper and Larry weeks before when we all danced at The Black Stallion, I was hopeful he could fit into the coffee group. As Joe was in the middle of the "gayborhood," Don had told me he had "patronized" the place from time to time. I liked Donald so much; I wanted the guys to like him as well.

I entered first. Since Don was going to be with me, I left the newspaper at home.

Brad brought me a cup of black coffee.

"I'm going to introduce you to someone today, Bradley."

"No one calls me that," he said flatly.

"I'm just teasing. I'm excited for you to meet Don."

"Ooo. This is the one who has brightened your world?"

"I ... suppose you could say that."

"I'm very happy for you. I'll be pleased to meet him."

Out the window, I saw him park and walk toward the door. "There he is now."

Brad stayed with me. I waved to Don, and he headed over. As he approached the table, he paused. His hand gestured back and forth between my table and the front counter.

"Do we ... do we order at the table or at the counter?"

"Either is fine," Brad said. "So many people get their beverages to go that the majority of customers just order at the counter." He popped Don in the belly with a hand towel he had tucked in his belt. "I'm Brad. What can I get you?"

"Oh." Don was caught off-guard. "Um. A cappuccino sounds nice."

"Coming up."

"Oh. I'm Don. Call me Don."

It was uncharacteristic of Don to feel awkward. He had such confidence and sophistication typically. I motioned for him to sit next to me. He kissed me before pulling out the chair.

"Good morning," I said.

"And to you."

Don took a moment to scan the place. Joe had been a fixture on the street for as long as I could remember. The coffeehouse was less than half-full. The younger crowd tended to be out late on Saturday nights. The Sunday morning clientele leaned more toward the more mature people who had let their partying days drift away or the younger ones who got up to jog at the crack of dawn. The décor was simple — some old movie posters and a picture of Paris that showed two men walking holding hands.

Minutes later, Brad set the beverage in front of Don. The barista leaned down to thank him for being a positive influence in my life. I couldn't hear the exact words, but I knew that was Brad's intent. Don smiled.

I had noticed them arriving out the window, but right behind Don's drink were Cooper, Laramie and Corey. They had placed their order at the counter as Brad was bringing Don's drink out.

"Hi, guys! Don, you remember Cooper and Larry. This is Cooper's son, Corey. He's the smartest kid you'll ever meet."

"Whatever," Corey said, as they all pulled out chairs. Cooper shot his son a look to be more polite when meeting someone new.

"Don't let him fool you," Larry said. "He's really nice." He pulled Corey into a headlock.

"Enough already," Corey protested. Then he smiled at Don and extended his hand. "It's nice to meet you, Don."

"I think you know ..." I started. "Don is my ... he's ... um, my ..." I stopped. I looked at Don. "What are we?"

Everyone chuckled.

"Boyfriends doesn't really fit old codgers like us," I observed.

"I would tend to say lovers, but that probably conjures up negative images to such a young boy."

"I'm not that young. I'm a freshman in high school," Corey said, beginning to sulk. He didn't like being belittled for his age. I could detect an insinuation that freshman sounded older to him.

"Is significant others a good workaround?" Larry asked.

"Sure," Don and I both agreed.

Don feared he made a poor first impression. I really wanted Corey to like him.

The table let Corey talk for a while and share what he was liking — and disliking — about his freshman year in high school. He spoke of being only a month away from getting his learner's permit to drive, which made Cooper wither into lifelessness (and me smile).

Cooper began bragging on Corey's latest presentation in his World History class.

"It was on Japan," Corey said.

"You should have seen his presentation board. It looked awesome," Larry bragged.

"I love Japan. I was stationed there in the Navy."

"You were in the Navy??" Cooper and Corey said simultaneously.

"You were in the Navy?" Brad said, setting down black coffee for Cooper and Corey and a cappuccino for Larry. Don smiled at Larry's drink, feeling a kindred spirit via coffee.

"Yes. I was. I loved being there. I loved Tokyo. I was stationed in Yokosuka, just south of Tokyo."

"For how long?" Larry asked.

Then I felt slightly awkward. I knew the questions were going to lead to something I didn't want to talk about.

"Um. A couple of years."

"A couple of years in Japan? Or in the Navy?" Cooper asked.

"Um. In the Navy. I was in Japan for fifteen months."

"Is that how long most people serve?" Corey asked.

"No."

Corey looked really confused. "Did ... did you just want to come home?"

I sighed. "That's ... that's not how a stint works." I looked directly into Corey's eyes. "I was discharged from the Navy."

Corey felt like he understood what that meant. "How come?"

I knew Corey was 15, but I didn't want him to feel like I put him down for being young. I reached for his arm.

"Kiddo, you're young, but I'm going to speak to you like you are much older. Okay? I was kicked out because I was gay."

Corey's head snapped up. He looked at his father and then back at me. "Can ... can they do that?"

"In the `80s, yes, yes they could."

"That doesn't seem fair. Is it, Dad?"

"No, son. It is not fair. Thankfully, times have changed. Things have improved. I'm sorry that happened to you, Emory."

"At least it was an honorable discharge."

I was in the barracks by myself. Blakemore came up to me as I was about to lace my boots.

"Hey, Pike." He was speaking quietly. "I – I've noticed you stealing some glances."

"I'm not sure I follow," I said.

But I did. I liked looking at Blakemore in the showers, when I could get a nice view of his naked body. I figured that was what he was inferring. I hoped he hadn't seen me look, but I had to admit, the last time I could have sworn he started to get hard after I had looked his way.

He stepped closer. "I think you do." He stepped to where his toes were almost touching mine. His crotch was right in front of my face as I sat on my bunk. He moved his hand to his crotch and gripped it. "I actually like it when you do."

I was hesitant to respond. I just swallowed, gulping saliva in my mouth. I was confident that this wasn't some sort of trap, but I didn't know 100 percent for sure.

Blakemore's fingers slid into his waistband, and he pulled his clothing tight. His pants began to bulge out. He was erect.

"You may not have noticed, but I like looking at you too."

"Oh."

"Naked that is." He rubbed his bulge.

"Are you ... are you sure we should be having this conversation?"

I was scared. I knew this could go south very quickly. I had joined the Navy to make my gay desires go away. Of course, that was a failure, but I knew I wasn't getting AIDS like everyone back home. All through training outside Chicago, I hardly even had an opportunity to get myself off. I was so cautious.

He took my hand and placed it on his fully hard mound.

Fuck.

I hadn't touched a man in nine months. Before being deployed, I had some schooling in Meridian, Mississippi. I got used to jerking off in the middle of the night. I had a stash of tissues tucked in my pillowcase. I loved feeling my hard cock again. But ... another man ... not since home. My hand squeezed his hard-on through his clothing.

I jerked it away. "We shouldn't do this. It could ... it could be dangerous."

"What? Do you think you're the only one? It's the Navy, for Christ's sake."

"We could get caught."

In seconds, he snapped off his belt, unzipped his pants and had his dick — hard, desirable dick — whipped out.

"Take it," he whispered.

My eyes darted around the barracks. Seeing no one, I pulled his cock to my mouth and swallowed it. It was everything I remembered. The smell, the taste, my nose pressing into his bush. It was ice cream and cotton candy and cake.

I feverishly sucked it. I devoured it. I consumed it. I swallowed and sucked and feasted.

Then panic set in and I pulled off. "What if someone walks in?!"

"It depends on who. They could potentially join us."

"You don't know that!"

He leaned down to my face. "Oh, don't I?"

His lips gently pressed on mine. Then he stood and tucked his magnificent rod into his pants.

"Maybe soon we can do more."

"That sucks," said Corey. "It's not fair."

"My, you are a mature young man," Don said.

"That he is," his father agreed, although I noticed a slight look in Cooper's face wishing Corey had worded that a little more politely.

"Ironically, one of the guys in the barracks was a complete Nellie queen. It was so obvious he was gay that no one really suspected he actually was."

It was quiet. I was sure they all had questions. Had I been caught during my time? What happened? Was it a scandal? But it was all too personal and private — and potentially painful — for them to inquire.

"I'm sorry," Brad said, putting his hand on my shoulder as he warmed my coffee.

"Did you learn to speak Japanese?" Corey asked.

"No. It wasn't' necessary. I was more of a gopher on base."

"What does that mean?"

"Go for this, go for that. Transport officials around. I wasn't very important ... and I probably didn't make the smartest decisions."

There was an awkwardness around the table. Don interjected a question to change the subject.

"Why is Emory's coffee in a mug, and Cooper and Corey have theirs in paper cups?"

"I almost never take my coffee to go," I said. "Not after spilling it down Cooper's leg."

"We always take refills," Corey added.

"I'm impressed that someone of your age enjoys coffee. Good for you," Don said.

"Much to his mother's dismay," Cooper flatly said.

"Oh, she's fine. I even got a coffee maker for Christmas."

"Much to his mother's dismay," Cooper played again.

"Dad! Stop."

The subjects discussed varied. The first 60-degree day forecasted for Wednesday. Pagodas. The Empire State Building. Onion Rings. Libraries.

After Brad topped off our coffee once again, Corey got up to add some flavored cream in his to-go beverage.

"Cooper, I'm sorry if I crossed a line with that Navy talk. I didn't want to make Corey feel like a little kid," I said.

"Like I most likely did," Don softly said.

"Don't worry about that. He's having teenager `moments' as of late."

"He's a great kid," I said.

"He is, but he's giving Natalie and me a hard time every now and then."

"However, he loves ME," Larry smiled.

We all snickered. "Yes, he does," his partner said and gave him a peck on the lips.

Corey let Brad know one of the pumps was out.

"Don't worry about crossing any lines," Cooper continued. "You have to remember I turned his world upside down by coming out a few years ago. It's good for him to gain a little more understanding about his father's world every now and then. At an appropriate level, of course. Are you comfortable talking about it?"

"Fuck his hole, Pike! Give Combs every inch of your dick!" Blakemore barked at me.

The three of us were in a hotel off-base. It was the first time we had such complete freedom to do whatever we wanted with no threat of being caught.

I was balls deep inside Combs. My cock vibrated with an energy it hadn't felt in almost a year. I was fucking. And it felt great. More importantly ... it felt me. I was me. I no longer had the desire to ignore being gay. I was gay. Fucking gay. And I was fucking a man. Raw. Combs was face down in the pillow, and I pounded his ass with no mercy. Interestingly, Blakemore enjoyed it more than either of us two. He just cheered us on.

Then he crawled on top of me. All three of us were stacked horizontally. He rubbed his stiff erection through my crack as I continued to fuck Combs.

All three of us moaned and growled. There was no question that anyone walking by in the hall could hear us and determine the situation, and we didn't care whatsoever.

I was inside a man.

Fucking a man.

It was who I was. Fuck, yes.

Even through my condom, the nerve endings in my rigid skin screamed with ecstasy. I panted and moaned into Combs' ear. I shoved one arm below his chest and grunted as I pushed harder into his hole. As hard I was shoving my stiff flesh into him, he was enjoying it. His muffled growls into the pillow were ones of pleasure. Harsh pleasure.

"Fuck him, man!" Blakemore called out above me. He was sawing his cock through my crack like a lumberjack. I loved feeling it moving back and forth, rubbing its way down into the crevice.

We stopped talking. We stopped shouting. We just panted and breathed and moaned.

Blakemore's groan escalated and then he all but hyperventilated. A warmth dripped onto my back. I felt another shot land further by my blades. After he finished grinding his cock at the edge of my crack, his whole body shuddered.

He crawled off of me.

"Lick it off," I said.

"My own cum?"

"LICK IT!!" I demanded.

I felt his wet tongue on my back. "Ohhhhhh, yeah."

Hearing me love it, Blakemore licked my body even more.

"Fuuuuuuuckkkk, yes."

More, until he delved into my crevice. His tongue hit my hole.

"Yeahhh!!! Oh. OH! I'm coming. I'm coming. UNGHHH! I'm coming so hard. I'm coming so hard!! UNGHH!! Ungh. Ungh. Oh. Oh. Ohhhhhhhhhh."

I had no idea what Combs' ass felt like. I had pounded it into a pulp, but it was the best orgasm I had experienced in my entire time in Japan. I could only picture how full the condom was.

Combs pushed me off and hopped onto his knees. He put one between my legs and one between Blakemore's. He began stroking his cock getting it fully hard. We watched from below, looking up at the taut body of our gay serviceman. His face twisted in male stimulation. I peeled the filled condom off my cock and continued to grope myself as I watched.

It took him two minutes. Part of his cum splattered on my hip, part of it hit Blakemore's cock and balls. He moved his dick like a lawn sprinkler. Then it oozed out onto our legs. He flicked the final drops off that hit my navel.

"Holy shit, that was hot," Blakemore said.

"I'll say," I breathed.

The three of us didn't always kiss. Combs was more of a kisser than Blakemore. He leaned over and kissed both of us. I pushed the back of his head to make his kiss firmer on my lips.

"Fucking hot," he whispered as his lips released.

After we cleaned up, we planned to head out to lunch. As we opened the door, Hughes was steps away, heading our direction. He looked at all three of us and then looked away, not saying anything.

"It's okay to talk about it. I only had myself to blame. I felt myself getting comfortable after being there a few months. Too comfortable. I didn't always watch what I said when others were around."

"Did you get caught?" Larry asked.

"Not ... in the act ... exactly." I hated remembering it. "I had grown complacent thinking that nothing would happen. One night — way in the middle of the night — I remember Blakemore, a fellow in my troop, crawled into my bunk. He was horny. We just jerked each other off. We were very quiet. The next morning, Hughes walked by me and sneered, `You're disgusting.' A week later I was called into my superior."

"What an asshole," Larry said.

"My captain said he wasn't going to bother with any pleasantries. He point-blank asked me if I was a homosexual, and I refused to deny who I was. That was it."

"That's so shitty," Larry said.

Cooper turned to see if Corey was out of earshot of Larry's cuss word. His son was talking to Brad.

"I'm so sorry, baby," Don said.

"Maybe I was just ... wishful thinking, but I felt the captain was sympathetic. It was just a matter of what had to be done. The funny thing was ... guess where we were sent? San Francisco! My friend was discharged with me. We stayed there for a few months. I actually ... probably fell in love with him. But ... it wasn't mutual. He wanted to bring others into our relationship. And, well, he just wanted to fuck everybody. I ... I was still too scared to do that. I had run from the AIDS crisis after all. I liked being monogamous with him. I figured he wouldn't always be safe, so ... I headed home to Oklahoma. Five years later, my job brought me to Jackson Bend, and I've been here ever since."

The eyes around the table were locked to mine. I felt empathy in their silence.

Once Corey returned, we pushed in our chairs and prepared to head out the door. Don noticed the lunch chalkboard and asked if I just wanted to stay for another hour. Brad smiled at the idea, so how could I refuse. We hugged the others goodbye.

"I didn't feel like heading home. I hope this is okay," Don said.

"More time with you? I suppose I can force myself if I have to," I replied sarcastically.

He winked at me.

The morning crowd grew a bit before it slacked off. The boys had left around 10:40. By the time the Joe staff put the sandwich of the day on the board, most of the coffee crowd had dissipated. A few tables ordered lunch items. Don and I were one such table.

Brad sat down when all but one table had received their orders.

"How much longer is your shift?" I asked.

"Until 2, but these last two hours are slow, usually. Manageable at least. I get to grab a bite myself."

"Join us if you'd like," Don said.

"That I can't do. I have to eat in the back. If I sit longer than a couple of minutes at a table, it's frowned upon."

"A shame," Don said.

"Thanks, but overall, I love it here. The management treats me quite well. Just rules. Fairly standard." Brad looked at me. "I know I didn't hear everything today, but ... I feel I know you better, Emory. After all these years too. And Don, it was wonderful to meet you. Just keep him in line, okay?"

Don smiled.

The sandwich of the day was a triple-decker club on toast. We both ordered it.

"That was delicious. I'm glad we did this," he said.

"Agreed. You said you didn't feel like going home. Want to stop by?"

He offered to pay since it was his suggestion we enjoy lunch at Joe. I noticed his tip for Brad was large.

"Certainly."

Twenty-one minutes later we had made it to my house, I had talked him out of his clothes, and we were naked under the sheet. I was nestled in Don's arm.

The sheet was tented enough for me to know Don was hard.

"This is a nice surprise," he said. "I'm not sure what prompted you to ... want me this afternoon, but I'm glad you did."

"Perhaps thinking about all those sexual encounters in Japan made me eager to have my hands on you."

"Mmm. What a nice thing to hear," he said, as I rolled over and held him.

Not long after that, we were kissing each other softly, but repeatedly.

Don sat up and pulled the sheet from my body. He leaned over my waist and nuzzled my penis with his nose. He kissed it, then licked it.

He moved down to my balls. He sucked on them for a couple of minutes. It felt quite nice.

But I didn't get hard. As much as I willed it, Pedro had not clocked in.

After Don gave my crotch attention for a few minutes, I finally encouraged him to stop.

"I'm sorry, Don. I don't think it is going to cooperate today."

"That's fine, baby. We don't have to do anything. I like just holding you."

"Oh, fuck that." I reached down to find a raging boner on my partner. "You fucker. I both love you and hate you for having these killer erections."

We turned, and his cock was in my mouth seconds later. I sucked him slowly. My saliva coated his sword, making it glisten. My tongue wrapped around it in my deep plunges. The tip of it tickled the underside of his hard-on like a snake.

"Ohhhh, Emory. Baby," he moaned.

I continued my oral service on his anatomy.

"Ohhh, yeah. I love you, Emory."

I stopped mid-suck. I was halfway down his dick. I took my mouth off and leaned over him.

He looked at me almost startled.

"What?" I asked.

"What?" he returned.

"What did you say?"

"I said I love you." His expression turned serious. "Uh oh. Did I screw the pooch? Oh, I messed up, didn't I. You didn't want me to say that. I'm so-"

I put a finger on his lips. "It's all good."

"That was okay?"

"Well, I wasn't expecting to hear it with your dick in my mouth. It's not the thing to say when you're in the middle of sex. But ... I love you too. I was wondering if ... when ... we might say it."

"I love you, Emory. I really do. I've kind of admitted it to myself for a few weeks now."

"We aren't saying this too soon?" I asked.

"Two months isn't too soon. Not if we know it."

I twisted my body to reach to the bottom drawer of my nightstand. I pulled out a half-empty bottle of lube and a hand towel that had been folded there for probably three years.

"I – I – I'd like you ... inside me. Will you fuck me, Donald?"

"Oh. Wow. Uh ... okay. If you're sure."

"Yes. Fuck me."

We looked into each other's eyes before closing them to kiss forcefully. As we kissed, Don moved on top of me. We started breathing more heavily. My arms wrapped around him, and he pressed his cock into mine.

His was steel. Mine just sat there.

In between the fierce kissing, his mouth managed to say, "I didn't bring any protection."

"You know you're safe, right?"

"I do. Do you trust me?"

"You're naked in my bed. I'm asking you to fuck me. Yes, I trust you."

He smiled and took the lube from my side.

For a few minutes, he prepared my hole. I loved being felt inside. Probed. Stimulated.

I nodded to him, using my expression to indicate I wanted him. Now.

I loved watching him slide clear liquid along his six-inch shaft. His hard shaft. His incredibly, sexy, cut, six-inch, hard shaft.

I locked my arms under my knees and exposed my waiting entrance to him. He maneuvered his body and placed the head of his cock in the right spot. The tip poked my pucker. It started moving in. The whole head was inside my ass. I inhaled. He slowly and gently moved all the way in.

"Ohhh, my. Yes. Emory. Ohhhhhh!" He was all the way in.

I concentrated on my breathing for a moment.

My hands found his butt cheeks and massaged them, coaxing him to thrust in me more forcefully.

"I have wanted this for a while," I said.

"Actually, me too," he breathed into my neck. "I'm glad we got here."

"Fuck me, Don. Fuck me."

We weren't loud. It was a loving, tender moment of lovemaking. We just breathed. And touched. And breathed. And held.

And fucked.

And fucked.

And fucked.

"I love being with you like this, Emory. Oh baby. It feels good."

"Me too."

And fucked.

And fucked.

And fucked.

We didn't change positions. We relished just how we were. We felt glorious in this new connection for us.

And fucked.

And fucked.

And fucked.

My hands roamed his back. He moaned. My finger ran down his crack. He groaned. I fingered his hole. He thrust harder into me and called out my name.

And fucked.

And fucked.

And fucked.

"I love how you fuck me, Don. You feel so good in me."

"It's wonderful, baby. It feels so wonderful."

"Keep fucking me. I want you to come inside me."

"I'm close."

And fucked.

And fucked.

And fucked.

And he came. It was a deep, guttural groan. No screaming. No cursing. Just the pleasure of a man feeling the release of his cum escape his cock.

Inside me.

His mouth sealed to mine. He kept thrusting his spent cock inside me as we kissed. It still felt good.

Don rolled on his side, and my ass felt empty.

"That was quite wonderful," he said.

He reached down to feel my cock. Pedro continued to take the day off. He was three limp inches hanging over my balls. Damn him.

"It's not happening today. I'm very sorry."

Don pulled me into his arms. "Don't be sorry for something out of your control."

"I just wish I was better for you. Here you tell me you love me, and I still can't get it up."

"If you were 17, I'd be offended," he said. I chuckled. "I understand, my dear."

"It bothered me with Gene too ... the last year we were together. It's infuriating and humiliating and exasperating. I ... hate it. I want to be more for you. I'm very sorry."

"Okay, stop that." He kissed the top of my head. "I love YOU, Emory Pike. Not just the part of your body above your balls."

"But I-"

"No buts. We just had an incredible sexual experience. I'm sad that you didn't get to have an orgasm, but we had a very loving moment there. It was great."

"I guess. Maybe."

"You and Gene got through things, didn't you?"

"Yeah. I suppose I should order more Viagra. It was about out when he passed. I used my last one two weeks ago when you spent the night here. I don't know why, but I was worried it might not happen."

"Were you wanting to fuck me that night?"

"No. Not that. I just wanted to be ... in the moment." I sighed. "Fuck. I hate this."

"Hey. I love you. If we're allowing ourselves to say that, then ... believe it, okay? Did you ... still have a good time? Did you enjoy it?"

"Hell, yeah."

"Then we're fine. We'll find our way."

I squeezed him tight. "I do love you." I kissed a nipple. "I never thought I'd get to say that to a man ever again."

We held each other silently for a couple of minutes on a Sunday afternoon.

I had only taken Viagra a few times before Gene passed. I didn't like the idea of having to "pay" to have sex. I questioned if sex was worth the price of the pills. Now the question was before me once again. My doctor had given me a handful of those as samples, but ... Gene was gone shortly after I acquired them.

"You know, I've shared a lot about Gene and my past. I feel you know so much about me. But I don't know anything about your past loves."

Don stared at the ceiling for twenty seconds. Thirty seconds. After forty seconds of silence, he moved out of bed and went into the bathroom. I could see him get a washcloth and wipe off his penis. He neatly folded it and placed it on the sink. With his ass toward me, he stared at himself in the mirror.

Eventually, he returned to the bedroom. He stood at the side of the bed. I could see his wonderful cock in my peripheral vision, but I concentrated on his face. His unhappy face.

"I said something wrong, didn't I?" I quietly said.

He made his hands into a V-shaped gutter and placed them over his face. "Nooo," he groaned.

"Hey. Come." I stretched out my arm to welcome him back to the bed.

Don lifted the sheet and moved next to me, pulling the sheet up to our chests. He let out a big sigh.

"Now it is my turn to obsess over disappointing you."

"What? How?"

I bent my arm to move Don closer into me.

"Lord, you will think so poorly of me. I don't like discussing my past."

"Don, we all have a past. We've all done things we aren't proud of."

"That's only part of it." He buried his face in my shoulder. "If I tell you about my past, I don't know how you'll feel about me."

"Did you push a baby carriage off a cliff into the ocean?"

Don chuckled. "No."

"Then, let's not worry about it."

Don took a deep breath. "I can't really tell you about my past loves because ... I don't really have past loves to talk about."

"I don't understand."

"I don't have past loves."

"You've never been in love?"

"Weeeeeeeelll ... that's different."

"I'm listening."

"I guess love didn't ever work out for me."

"Ever? But you're so nice ... and so caring. How is that possible?"

"Perhaps it is my fault. I guess I'm just not good at the whole ... love ... thing."

"No way. I love being with you."

"Well, as an example of how bad I am at expressing love, just look at twenty minutes ago. I tell you I love you for the first time when you have your mouth around my cock."

I laughed.

"It's not funny. I'm not ... not good at ... finding love."

I kissed his cheek. "Don, don't be so hard on yourself. You're a wonderful man."

"I guess I'm not lucky then. The first person I suppose I loved was a high school senior named Tate. To fully understand, I hated his guts."

"That makes no sense."

"Tate was hated by almost everybody. He had one friend. He was such an asshole to most people. I couldn't stand him. It was early on in our senior year. He was making fun of others in the lunchroom. They were all cussing at him. His friend wasn't with him. People flipped him off. He had a hateful expression on his face, but when he turned from them, I saw something in his eyes."

"What was it?"

"Someone who was lost."

"Lost?"

"Don't get me wrong. I hated him. After school, I heard someone yell, `Fuck you, Tate!' and I turned to see him walk off. Once he was out of view of everyone, he just stood next to a tree. He rested his head on it. I didn't even need to see his face. He was hurt. Obviously, he deserved all the flack people sent toward him, but I began to question if his asshole demeanor was a self-fulfilling prophecy situation. People thought he was a jerk, so he acted like one. He ran a finger below his eye to wipe away a tear and then he walked home."

"What happened next?"

"I knew I couldn't be nice to him or people would come after me ... and again, I hated him. But for some reason, I felt there was more to him. I started watching him. Shortly after that, I went into the bathroom. He was the only one in there. I figured he would say something mean to me. A few people had teased me that I was gay — and I barely knew what that was in the `60s. I never acted on it, and I really didn't have a lot of questions. I guess I felt lost too. I thought maybe if I was nice to him, he might leave me alone."

"What did you do?"

"Get this. I said ... `Hi, Tate.'"

"That's it?"

"He was peeing. The school was old. It was one of those big, long urinals from ages ago. He turned to look at me. He looked back down at his pee stream. I just peed. Then he said, `Hi Don.' Nothing mean. Nothing hateful. I looked at him as he zipped up. I barely saw his penis, but when I did, I looked at him ... differently."

"How? Why?"

"I think I looked at him as a person instead of an asshole."

"Hmm."

"For several weeks, we just said `hello' and I'd give a small wave. No one liked sitting next to him. I had two classes with him, and I took the chair next to him. He noticed. He'd give me a small smile. Maybe I am just imagining it, but he seemed to be ... LESS of a jerk. He didn't pal around with his asshole friend as much. I think maybe that guy was expelled for a while. I can't remember. After Christmas break, people started yelling at Tate less. I mean, no one really liked him, but he ... I guess fit in a little better."

"Did you two talk?"

"Not a lot. Simple things about the assignments. Hellos. He became quiet. People stopped throwing jeers at him. But I felt sorry for him."

"Why?"

"Because no matter what he did, no one would ever like him. He wasn't necessarily handsome. I don't mean to imply that he was grotesque or anything, but he was just ... average. He wasn't the type to make a girl swoon. With each week, I disliked him less. Eventually, we sat together at lunch ... since his horrible friend wasn't with him. They had different schedules that second semester, so he wasn't around as much. I think that helped. Even when they were occasionally together, people noticed that Tate was quiet."

"So, how did you come to ... love him?"

"I guess a little at a time. When I saw him sort of light up when he saw me, that ... moved me. At night, when I was lying in bed, I began thinking about him. Then I pictured him when I masturbated. By spring, I ... believed I loved him. It's silly. There was no reason to be in love with him."

"I think that's nice."

"I figured out that I liked boys. I wasn't girl crazy like my classmates."

"Did you ever have a girlfriend?"

"No. I was overweight. They liked the athletes. And I was fine with that. Basically because ... hello ... I was gay, whether I admitted it or not."

Don's fingers gently ran through my chest hair as he talked. I simply listened.

"You have to remember that this was the year before Stonewall. Being a fag or gay or homosexual was nothing you would share. All those words were insults, particularly back then. I hid it inside me. But I kept feeling drawn to Tate. On the Friday of spring break, he saw me while I was on my bike. He was too. Back then, you didn't own your own car in high school. Maybe the rich kids did. I'm not sure. But he rode up to me. We rode bikes side by side and we talked. And talked. And talked. We rode for an hour. Tate had never said that many words in his life."

"What did you talk about?"

"Stuff. Classes at first. School. The high school team."

"Girls?"

"No. I wouldn't bring that up. Neither did he. I brought up my sister. I asked about his family. His mood got so dark. In the softest voice, he finally said, `Can we talk about something else?' I suggested going for ice cream. We sat at a table outside, because the weather was nice."

"Okay."

"As we ate, he didn't look at me. He looked at his ice cream. Then he said his dad hit him. Often. My heart wanted to drop my ice cream and hold him. But I didn't. I just told him I was sorry. I told him I was afraid of my dad too."

"Why were you afraid of your dad?"

"I felt Tate was bringing out feelings in me. I didn't have it all figured out, but I knew I wasn't like everyone else. I knew if my father found out I was a homosexual, there would be hell to pay."

I sighed. I hated hearing that, but it wasn't like my childhood was notably better.

"Did you tell your friend that?"

"Not exactly. Strangely, our knees just touched under the table. We didn't move them away. It wasn't like it was ... romantic or anything. But there was something special about that touch. A connection."

"Did you think he was gay?"

"I had no idea. I barely had myself figured out. Before I headed home, I was brave enough to say, `I like you, Tate.' It made him smile. He just said, `Thanks.' And we went our own way back home.'

"That was brave."

"I thought so. My heart pounded when I said it. And when I got home. And when I thought about him in bed. There were only two months of school left. We started riding our bikes home together. My mother offered to pick me up, pick us up, but ... I just wanted to spend time with him. After all those weeks, I thought about Tate all the time. In my classes, over dinner, in the shower. In my bed. I wanted him to be with me all the time — which is SO weird because I truly hated him a few months before. But I guess I just got to know him. It was early April. I had jerked off thinking about him. Cum was all over me. I just whispered in the dark, `I love you, Tate.' And ... I thought I knew what love felt like. Odd, isn't it? We hadn't kissed or even touched really. But he was all I thought about."

"Sounds like young love to me."

"By the end of the month, he started hugging me."

"Oh?"

"He told me when his father would hit him. I would reach out and we would hug. He needed it. But we started hugging every time we said goodbye. As long as no one could see us."

"I see."

"We only had a few weeks of school left. We weren't sure if we would see each other after that. My mother knew we were friends. My father never cared. He had probably heard enough bad things that he was bewildered why I would be friends with someone like him. But my father could be just as much an asshole as Tate used to be."

"Did you two ever ... do ... anything?"

"Just a little. I told him I was going to miss him when school was over. He said the same. I told him I thought about him a lot. He just looked at me. He didn't scowl or run or say anything, really. I gave him a big hug. I ... wanted him to feel how hard I was, so I pressed ... my erection into his hip. I wasn't sure if he felt it or not. We didn't say anything."

"And then?"

"The next day, after school, he asked if we could ride to some old warehouses. I didn't get it, but I agreed to. We got there. We got off our bikes and went behind one of the warehouses. They were abandoned. No one was around. I was wondering if we were going to smoke pot or do drugs or something. I asked him what was special about the warehouses. Why there? He said he just wanted us to be alone. I stared at him. He unbuttoned his jeans and unzipped them. Then he stopped. He just put his arms behind his back. I was confused. I didn't know what he was thinking would happen. We just looked at each other. Was he wanting me to do the same or ... touch him. I had no idea."

"Were you scared?"

"Oddly, no." Don's hand roamed down to hold my balls. "I suppose I could have done the same with my jeans, but I wanted his dick. He watched my hand move in slow motion to his waist. I lifted his shirt some. Then my fingers moved inside his underwear. I felt him. He was so hard. It was the first erection I ever felt, other than my own, of course."

"What did he do?"

"He just shut his eyes. I just felt him for a minute. Then I pulled his clothing down a few inches so that his hard-on would be exposed. I just stroked him and stroked him. I loved feeling him. I loved listening to him breathe heavily. Neither of us said a word. I just felt his anatomy."

"For how long?"

"Long enough. I kept feeling him until he came. Watching it all drip to the ground ... you'd thought I was witnessing the Aroura Borealis. It was magic. Someone else came like I did."

"Did he do you?"

"No. He just said, `Thank you,' and we started riding home."

I felt sorry for Don that he didn't receive reciprocal attention — but it was 55 years ago.

"The week before school was out, my mother suggested he spend the night over the weekend. We had a very pleasant night. My father was on fairly good behavior, and the meal was incredible. Tate was so impressed with my family, average that we were."

"Compared to his..."

"Exactly."

"That night, we got in my bed. After we turned out the lights, I just said, `Can I?' He told me I could, and we both pulled off our underwear. I just felt him. I loved feeling him. His hardness was like a drug. I just needed to feel it more and more."

"Did he feel you?"

"He was reluctant to, but I lifted his hand and put it on my crotch. Like this."

Don demonstrated with my hand and gently moved it onto his genitals.

"You're hard again."

"I am. I like this story," he said with a smile.

"I was afraid if he came first, he would let go, so I took my time on his dick. I started breathing much more heavily. I think that excited him. He was actually making something happen. He was making me feel good. He was making me happy. When I reached my orgasm, I just asked him to pull on me harder. It was wonderful. He liked it. I liked it. It felt incredible. I wiped my body off with a tissue, then I worked his rigid penis again until he came. I turned on the light to wipe his chest off. Before I wiped it all off, I just looked at his body naked. At that time, I found Tate much better looking than at the beginning of the school year."

"You loved him."

"I did. I told him I wanted to memorize what I saw. Then I wiped him off, turned out the lights and we said, `Good night.' In the darkness, he told me he thought all that we had done was nice. I told him I was glad."

"Did it ever happen again?"

"No. That was it. We never kissed. Or anything else."

"Wow."

"On the last day of school, he told me he was going away to his cousin's farm for the next month. We stood by that tree I once saw him lean against. If I wasn't going to see him again — potentially — then I wanted my last words to be, `I love you.' I said them. And we hugged. Then we rode our bikes from the school."

"Did he say it back?"

"No. I don't think he felt the same. He was probably straight. We never ever talked about what we had done in bed. We just kind of needed each other that year. Probably for different reasons."

"Did you ever see him again?"

"The next day, he stopped by my house. He was on his bike. I answered the door, and he said he wanted to give me something. He handed me an envelope. And then he said `Bye' and rode off."

"What was in the envelope?"

"A gold bracelet. The one he had worn all school year."

I glanced at the nightstand. "Was it ... that one?"

"It was. It was very inexpensive, but it was worth a million dollars to me. And is."

"I don't know what to say, Don."

"Tate set the bar for me. I measure everyone against that love."

I groped my lover's dick again. "And how do I measure up?"

"I love you, Emory Pike. In ways I haven't anyone else. But ... how about we end my talk of the past there for today. I think I've shared enough."

"Thank you for opening up to me."

We kissed again.

"Have you ever been in touch ever since?"

"No. That was so long ago."

"I'm sure you were very important to him."

"Perhaps." He paused. "I should probably get home. But ... this was nice. I'm glad we were able to say those words."

"You don't regret saying them?"

"Well, I wish I had done it at a better time, but ... no. I don't regret it all. I mean it. I love you. I'm elated that you love me back."

"I do. Which is a bit scary. But also exciting."

We both stood on each side of the bed and began getting dressed again.

Don kissed me goodbye, and I spent the rest of the day contemplating everything that had happened.

After dinner, I texted Cooper: "Don and I said the L word."

"Lasagna?" he texted back.

"Damn it, Cooper! I'm trying to be serious! You're my best friend."

"I'm sorry," he responded. "I'm happy for you two. Really. You're so good together."

"Thanks. I just wanted to tell you. I wanted you to know."

That night, back in bed, Pedro decided to rise and shine. "Well, NOW you show up."

Since I was hard, I tried to remember the details of Don's story. Then it reminded me of Blakemore and us feeling each other in my bunk in the Navy. I didn't regret it. It was interesting how mutual masturbation played such a pivotal role in both Don's and my life.

Both memories were intense in their own way. My orgasm was fierce enough that it made me call out.

—

Three Days Later

Don and I were going out to a nice dinner. He stopped at my place to pick me up.

When I answered the door, he stood there smiling. We gave a kiss, and he continued to smile.

"Wh – What is it? Why are you smiling like that?"

"Because I'm looking at the man I love, and I can tell him that."

I smiled and kissed him again. "Yes, you can."

We kissed some more in the doorway. No one was on the street, not that I gave a damn if anyone saw us.

"Oh. You're wearing a tie. I'll go put one on."

"Emory, you don't have to do that."

"I don't mind. Come on in."

That was slightly a lie. It wasn't that I minded wearing a tie. I just didn't like them. They were so confining. Being in an old pair of jeans, a concert shirt and my denim jacket was my go-to apparel. But I loved Don, so dressing up for him wasn't a huge effort.

When I returned to the living room, I saw Don standing before the fireplace looking at a picture of Gene and me on the mantel.

I came up behind him and placed my hands on his shoulder.

"Does it bother you that I have pictures of Gene around?"

Don whirled out of my touch. "No. Absolutely not. He was so important to you. He was the love of your life. I hope you never take those pictures down. It's lovely that the two of you had such a deep, committed love."

I gave him a gentle hug. "Okay."

"Does it bother you that I still wear Tate's bracelet?"

"Not in the slightest."

"Okay. Good."

Don motioned me to sit on the couch. We sat side-by-side.

"Emory, I would never hope to replace Gene. I'm thrilled that there is still room in your heart to find love for me. That's marvelous, but ... never, ever try to replace him. I hope those pictures make you remember happy times."

"They do. If they just made me feel loss, I would have taken them down."

Don looked down for a moment. "The other night ..." he started.

"Yeah?"

"You know, when we were professing our endless love to each other ..." he said with an air of sarcasm. "I called you baby. When I got home, I wondered if Gene ever called you that. I just ... just didn't want to intrude on ... you know, his territory."

"Oh. Don't worry about it. He didn't call me that, nor did I use the word on him. I typically called him G. He would call me dear more than anything else."

"I see. Well, okay." Don blushed a little. "Sorry. I'm not very good at ... these things. Love ... and all that."

Don's past still baffled me. He was such a kind and caring man. He should have had several deep loves — or at least one true love. In a way, that saddened me to where it hurt. I wondered if I would ever find out the whole story.

I had never eaten at Lawrence Creek. I wasn't one for fancy dining. I sure as hell didn't want to shell out for it either. It was all just food — at least in my mind. Don had wanted to come here for some reason. It was his treat.

The host escorted us to a table for two. It had a nice view of the creek outside the window. Don didn't sit.

"Is something wrong, sir?" the host asked.

Don looked about the room. The restaurant wasn't busy. There were only a few other tables of patrons.

"Would it be an inconvenience if we sat at either of these two tables?" he asked, pointing to two tables that seated four.

"It's perfectly fine," the host said, but clearly slightly confused that we wouldn't prefer the table with the better view.

We took our seats. "I wanted to sit next to you instead of across from you," he softly said. It made me smile.

The host handed us our menus. "Your server this evening is Gary. He'll be with you shortly."

I looked at the prices. "Oh my."

"Anything wrong?"

"Noooooooo." I just felt guilty when someone spent a lot on a dinner for me.

"Good evening, gentlemen," Gary said, pouring us ice water. "May I get you anything from the bar?"

"A glass of Chardonnay, please," Don immediately responded.

I wanted a draft beer, and nothing could sound more middle-class. "I'll have the same," I said.

"Bring us a bottle then," Don said.

"Certainly. Are we celebrating anything tonight gentlemen?"

"We are, but it's a bit private."

"Very well. I'll have your wine soon. My recommendation tonight is the Orange Roughy served with fennel, saffron-parsnip mousse with orange miso beurre blanc."

Don nodded.

What the hell was that?! It was like a foreign language. I was out of my league here.

"The Orange Roughy sounded good."

"That's ... fish, right?"

"Correct."

"Hm. I was leaning toward the Nebraska Beef Tenderloin."

"Oh. We should have ordered you red wine then."

Ugh. I didn't belong here. I would suffer through this spectacular dinner for Don's sake.

"It's fine." I hesitated. "It – it doesn't embarrass you that I have the wrong wine, does it?"

"Emory! Nothing you do could possibly embarrass me."

"The night is young."

"Don't be silly."

"It's all just ... fancier than I typically go for."

"Tonight's special."

"You haven't really explained that."

Don reached for my hand. "I said `I love you' to a man who said it back. As simplistic as that sounds, it means something to me, Emory. Quite a bit actually."

We leaned in to kiss.

When we separated, Gary was there holding our bottle of wine. We smiled. Gary wasn't slightly fazed at seeing two old farts kiss in front of him. Don looked at the label and nodded. Gary proceeded to open the bottle and pour Don a taste. My lover gave an obligatory swish in the glass and sniff. He didn't even taste it. He just nodded again.

Gene would often order wine. We never got a bottle because I always wanted a beer. I tried to remember specific times when I was at a restaurant and the server opened a bottle. I was confident I could count such occasions on one hand.

Gary took our order and made no facial indication that I had the wrong wine paired with my entrée. I had absolutely no idea what the side or sauce or whatever came with my dish was. It was in such fufu language that I figured I would just like it. Or not. Don ordered us Ceasar salads but asked Gary to hold off for a few minutes before serving them.

"Thank you for letting me celebrate ... us. As you know, I'm not the expert in this field," Don said, looking into my eyes.

"It pains me that you say that."

"Why?"

"You're an incredibly loving and caring and thoughtful person. How has someone not snagged you as a partner all these years?"

"Bad luck, I guess. Maybe it's my own fault. My timing on expressing how I felt was rather odd the other night."

I giggled, which made him giggle.

"Emory, when you were in the Navy, how did you find other men?" Don asked. "I mean ... there was risk in seeking it out. As you are well aware."

I contemplated his question. It was so long ago. "I guess in the beginning I picked up subtle clues. Blackmore, a fellow in my troop, approached me. Came right out to me, actually. That opened my eyes, I guess. I mean ... the scene was hidden, kind of underground, but it was there."

"Where were these encounters?"

"Sometimes they actually happened in the barracks. Hotels were easiest — both on and off base. When a carrier came in — whoo, that was a whole lot of men who had been out to sea for a long time. I guess you found what you wanted to ... in time. I guess timing was the key thing."

"Timing may have been my biggest obstacle all along. Well, that and stupidity," Don said.

I raised an eyebrow.

"I haven't been in love many times, but unfortunately, I fell for a married man."

"We do dumb things when we are young."

"I was 48 and he was 53."

I got a big grin but didn't respond.

"He was another professor at the college. He had been married for almost twenty years. They had two kids, one about to head to college. Back when he got married, being gay was just not accepted. He questioned, but he felt he had to bury those feelings. I think it was his openness with me that made him so attractive to me. Even though he was attractive. At the time, finding a wife was just what you were expected to do. He said he loved her in his own way. Very much so. But he wanted to be with a man. I was out at that time, he approached me and ... it just developed."

"Did you do it in the library?" I grinned.

"Emory!! I was always very professional. Shame on you." He took a sip of wine. "We did it in the supply closet."

I roared with laughter. Don begged me to stop.

"That was before my assignment in the library anyway. Although we would sometimes meet there. We were afraid to do too much in our offices. They weren't big and people were always passing by. We groped a lot, but we found other places to make love. My place was the easiest."

"Ever do it at his house?"

"Never. Too risky. But he ... he was insatiable. It was like twenty years of gay libido was bottled up. I fell for him ... hard. We did it for months. When we got close to the Christmas break, I was looking forward to spending time with him. Somehow, I wanted us to enjoy the holidays together." Don's face fell. "I was a fool. He broke it off before we left for the break."

"I'm sorry."

"How childish of me to think he would leave his wife and family for me. He said it was just too complicated to walk away. I told him I loved him. He said he loved me too, but he made a vow to his wife, and he wasn't going to turn his children's life upside down."

I thought about Cooper and what he did to Corey.

"They probably could have handled it better than her," I said.

"I spent the entire break sobbing my eyes out. It was the worst Christmas ever."

"You said you were out on campus. When did you tell your family?"

"It was harder back in those days."

"It was," I agreed.

"I knew my father would never stand for it. One day when I was 29, my family had gathered for Easter weekend. Lots of relatives. One of my grandmothers said to me, `Donald, when are you going to settle down and find yourself a girl to marry?' I'm sure the expression on my face told my sister how horrified and depressed I was at her question. I just answered, `I don't know, Grandma.' Later that night, my sister, Vicki, approached me. We talked. I came out to her. She sympathized with me. She agreed that our father wouldn't be keen on it, but she said our mother might be understanding. The AIDS crisis made me too scared to come out to them. When I did in my late 30s, I assured them I was safe — and I wasn't seeing anyone — but they were still worried."

"Did your dad accept it?"

"Not for many years. When he saw me happy, I think he got it."

"What made you happy?

"Lars. But I'm getting ahead of myself. After Tate in high school, I was ... lonely. I didn't fit in at college ... in a dating sense anyway. Again, probably my fault. Early 70s. Stonewall was such a ruckus. When I turned 21, I thought about going to a gay bar. I was, you know, of age. I was terrified. Absolutely petrified."

"Why?"

"Fear of the unknown."

"And?"

"I chickened out and went to a regular bar. I looked at other people talking and dancing ... and I felt alone. I didn't want to be with any woman there, and all the guys seemed paired up. I knew the bar scene wasn't for me. At least straight bars. It took me seven more years to go into a gay bar. I went in. I sat at the bar. I didn't want to look like I was looking around, but I looked around. There were people dressed like me, but there were several in black leather. I found it interesting that the overtly effeminate and the butch biker type could patronize the same establishment. They seemed to get along. A few of them made out. Openly. That sort of turned me on. When I went to the bathroom, a man looked over and told me I had a nice penis."

"You do."

Don smiled and winked at me.

"That scared me senseless. I left shortly thereafter."

"And ...?"

"I got the courage to go back. I met someone who I thought seemed nice. We went to his place; it was my first blowjob. Another night, I got fucked for the first time. I hated it. It was so painful and ... emotionless. I just felt I needed to do it to be a true gay man. And then stories of AIDS just dominated the news ... for gay people anyway. And I became very, very afraid. When I started at Drake, I met a man named Caleb at the university. He was a secretary on our floor. I was two years older than him. We were safer than any two people on the planet. We all but crawled inside bubble wrap to make love."

I chuckled.

"I was very happy. But his cousin, also gay, lived out in California. He got AIDS. The family disowned him, so Caleb moved out to take care of him. I was devastated."

"But you loved him."

"I suppose I did. But not as deeply as I did Tate all those years earlier. Maybe I just `liked' Caleb."

I didn't say anything. I just continued to listen.

"My next relationship was with Kendall. AIDS obviously didn't go away, but it seemed to be getting more under control. Everyone was much safer then. Thank heavens for responsibility. We saw each other for almost a year. He never said the words I love you to me. I think ... no, I don't think I did either. Maybe we felt it. Maybe we didn't. He didn't pass the Tate barometer test."

"I see."

"Finally, he said he wanted to see someone else. When I saw who it was, it all made sense."

"What does that mean?"

"To say I was pudgy would be to state it kindly. I was overweight. Between Caleb and Kendall, I had added some pounds, probably because I was depressed. When I saw Kendall with his new boyfriend, I started ... not liking myself."

"I'm so sorry, Don."

"Maybe it was a good thing. I could have spiraled into bags of chips and cartons of ice cream, but in the next year, I lost almost 40 pounds. I was overweight then. Not that I'm svelte now, but ..."

"You're very handsome. I love you just how you are."

"Bless you, Emory."

"I looked better, that's for sure. Miraculously, everyone I met showed more interest in me. Gay men anyway. Suddenly, sex was back on the table, but ... my experience in the 90s was everyone wanted to be friends with benefits. Maybe it was from being denied sex during the 80s. I didn't fall in love with anyone. But I was getting laid."

"I met Lars in 1993. Of all places, in a Subway."

"As in a train or a sandwich shop?"

"Sandwich shop. I was behind him as we ordered. We looked at each other. There was something in the glance I gave him. He waited for me outside and asked if we could share a table. We hit it off. We didn't jump right into bed. Neither of us wanted that kind of thing. We were friends for a few weeks. Kissed though. Then we got serious. Dates. Sex. Trips. Sex. I met his family. More sex. I was just happy. And my parents noticed. It was the first time my parents had met any of my ... men. Mom had been worried, because of AIDS and everything. Dad ... was just Dad. But they saw me happy."

"What happened to Lars?"

"A job opportunity. A great one. I said I wouldn't stand in his way."

"Tough break."

"That's my life. So, you see, I ... don't have much luck with love. Pathetic, isn't it?"

"So ... no one in this century?"

He chuckled. "After the fiasco with the married fellow, I figured I would just be a continual bachelor my whole life. I was nearing 50. I got on an LGBTQ committee here in Jackson Bend when I moved here. I figured that was a way to meet people. I did. Once again, it became more of a friends-with-benefits situation. Whenever I pushed for more, it seemed to be rather one-way. They got to decide when the benefits were realized."

"I'm very sorry, Don. You are so deserving of so much more than you've been given."

"Well, it's led me to you."

"Thank heavens for Zane and Enrique, right? And I almost didn't go to that party."

"I'm so glad you did. I love you, Emory."

"I love you too, Don."

My lover had shared so much about his past loves. I wondered if Blakemore and Combs and the other guys I fucked in the Navy ever found true love. Those were weird times. Maybe not everyone wants love. Maybe friends with benefits is exactly what some men need. Not me. Don had opened up my world again.

Our salads arrived.

* * * *

If you are interested in the main characters, read more behind-the-scenes at timothylane414stories.blogspot.com Look for a post called "Don."

I enjoy hearing from readers. Share your thoughts. timothylane414@gmail.com