|notreallyme10 (notreallyme10) wrote,|
@ 2007-08-20 10:31:00
Post 513 Series
Beta: wowkelseysgreat with special thanks to xie_xie_xie
Originally posted: 1/26/07 LJ
The next few months fly by. I know some people had doubts, but I do go through with the whole plan. Justin and I found an unbelievable apartment right near Gramercy Park with room for Justin to paint. He insisted that the place should have room for visitors, in case our friends and family want to come for a visit.
I say send them to a hotel, but Justin can be persuasive, and the new place has four bedrooms. It’s huge by New York standards, and I feel a little smug about it being my first place in the city. Everything hums along nicely until my move is finally complete. I probably don’t surprise anyone when I start acting like a dick the minute I don’t have anything to do.
Justin doesn’t let it go for long, I’d say about an hour, before he calls me out on it.
"This no-plan thing is only going to work if you calm the fuck down." And they call me insensitive.
I know he’s right so I go out, get shit faced, and fuck a few guys. I can’t tell you how much better it makes me feel. Fucking strangers calms me in a way little else does. However, even I realize that tricking cannot replace a career.
The next morning, I decide to try something novel and talk to Justin about what the fuck I’m going to do. "This no-plan stuff is fucking hard."
He snorts, fucking snorts, and continues making coffee.
"What the hell am I supposed to do with myself?"
"What do you want to do with yourself? Isn’t there anything you’d like to do in the city? You can start with anything, and just because you do something one day, doesn’t mean you have to do it again the next."
He’s right as usual, which irritates me.
"Maybe I’ll make friends with Rufus and hang out with him."
"He has a job. I think you mean Paris Hilton." He thinks he’s so funny, but then he redeems himself when he says, "You know, the great thing about being a painter is that I get to set my own hours. I think I could be persuaded to spend a little time with boring old you."
I love the idea, but it freaks me out, too. "I’m not taking you away from your job to spend time with me. I never would have moved here if I thought it would fuck with your life."
"Did I not mention that you have to calm down? You aren’t fucking with my life. Did you ever consider that I’ve been missing you for a long time, and I might like to spend some time with you, even though you’re acting like a pain in the ass? Also, and I promise you that I am only going to say this once, stop trying to control me. I’m a big boy. I want your opinion and your support, but I don’t need a fucking babysitter."
His voice is firm but not angry. Apparently he can take care of himself. Not sure I like it, but I also can’t say I’m not proud. Well, I can not say it, and I don’t, but I do kiss him in a way that I hope lets him know. We end up spending most of that day in, but, over the next few weeks, we enjoy the city together. He takes me to his favorite places, and we discover a few more together. I relax considerably and accidentally take photography up again.
I took a couple of photography classes in college because I thought it would be a good talent to have in advertising, and it was. Even when I wasn’t taking the picture myself, my knowledge helped me visualize and develop many campaigns. Aside from that, I found years ago that I wasn’t shitty at it. It never occurred to me that I’d enjoy doing it again, but I suddenly found myself with a camera in hand at all times. Maybe I’m just using it to fill the void, but I decide to just go with the flow.
Justin seemed thrilled and even convinced me to get a dark room added to our apartment. It seems a little premature to me considering I’ve only really started taking pictures again in the last few weeks, but I decide, what the fuck is the point of having a shit load of money, if you don’t use it?
Then the little shit stuck his nose where it didn’t belong, and sent some of my stuff to Cynthia. When I tried to pick a fight with him about it, he brushed me off, saying he was just proud of me or some shit.
Anyway, most of my stuff is architectural, well, and of Justin’s cock, and apparently Cynthia is working on some account for a big time architectural firm with offices in San Francisco, Chicago, and New York. They do the type of contemporary design I’m typically drawn to, and one of my better shots was even of one of their buildings. Long story short, I’m now the photographer on the campaign. I can’t seem to shake Kinnetik no matter what I do. I guess it works out well, because it’s a challenging new facet to a business I love. Justin also thinks I should put together a portfolio to show around to galleries, but I told him to back the fuck off - for now.
I sure as fuck didn’t plan it, but one day I woke up after living in New York for a year or so and realized I wasn’t fucking anyone but Justin. I mean, it didn’t happen exactly like that. It was a little more gradual. I started noticing myself passing up opportunities, good opportunities, until I figured out that it had been weeks since I’d been with anyone other than Justin. I found it unnerving. I briefly worried it meant my sex drive was diminishing until I remember fucking Justin three times just the day before. Then I toyed with the idea of being pissed with him…maybe he was tricking me into this, maybe we were fucking all the time so that I wouldn’t be interested in fucking anyone else. This was part my daily affirmation that I’m still an asshole, and when I thought about it, I decided that if he wanted to let me fuck the shit out of him all the time, I really didn’t care what the reason was.
I wasn’t exactly sure when my last trick had been, but it had been at least three weeks. I remember, because it was while I was working on a project that Cynthia had managed to talk me into, for Kinnetik. Besides photography, I also do a certain amount of contract work for them. I like it, but for the most part I’ll only take stuff I find interesting or challenging. The whole reason for getting out was so I could stop dealing with the shit that I just didn’t want to do anymore, but every once and awhile, I get roped into something that I have no interest in. Cynthia knows me a little too well, and as soon as she gives me some bullshit about how they can’t do it without me, I find myself caving.
Anyway, usually I work in my office in the apartment, but sometimes I take my laptop over to a café around the corner, just to get out. On this particular day there was a guy I just couldn’t pass up working behind the counter, so when he went on break I fucked him in the bathroom. He was hot, and it was a great fuck. Some tricks are so disappointing I wonder why I bother, until I fuck a guy like this. His ass was tight, and he was an active part of the fuck, not just a lump waiting for me to do all the work. I came hard, and when it was over he peeled off the condom and licked me clean. So why the fuck haven’t I had a trick since?
I don’t know if Justin tricks. When we were apart, he did on a pretty regular basis, and we had a deal that when one of us had had a particularly good fuck we would call the other late at night and share all the details. Justin never received such a call from me, not because I didn’t have good fucks, but because I knew that he didn’t get off on it the way I did. I truly believe he’s OK with it, but I don’t think he needs to hear, or enjoys hearing, all the details as much as I do.
I love watching Justin fuck and get fucked. He’s the most sexual person I know, probably even more than me in a way, and watching him get off makes me fucking hard. So while I never called him to talk about a fuck, he did call me. It wasn’t often, maybe every few months, when something he knew I’d want to hear about happened.
He’d wait until it was late enough that he was sure I was in bed, and maybe even asleep, and then call and tell me all the details, in this quiet sexy voice he seemed to save for just this purpose. My favorite call, the one I still thought about months later when I needed to get off fast, was about an orgy he’d attended. He’d made friends with another artist who he’d met at a gallery where they were in a group show together. They had only known each other for about six months when he invited him to this party, but apparently they were pretty good friends so he felt OK about it.
When Justin called, he would always ask if I was naked, which I always was. On this particular night he also said that I could touch myself, but he didn’t want me to come until he said so.
He started laying out the scene for me. It’s not like I’ve never been to a party like this. Hell, its not like I haven’t thrown a party like this. But there’s something about hearing Justin tell it, something about experiencing it through him, that is amazing.
"I couldn’t believe how beautiful the men were. They’d clearly set some pretty impressive standards for the invite list, and the apartment was amazing and huge, what I’d expect you to have if you lived here. When we got there, were told to remove all of our clothing. Not even towels were allowed.
"I was almost embarrassed at how hard I was just from what was going on in the living room. I think being exposed like that made me harder. Right in the middle of the living room there was this fucking built guy, on all fours, getting fisted. He came twice while I was watching, and there were guys all around him watching and jerking off. I’ve only seen stuff like that in porn movies. Every room we walked in, there were guys fucking all over the place. I seriously couldn’t believe how many people were there.
"Somehow we ended up in this room with a sling. The kid in the sling was just begging to be fucked. I don’t know why, cause I’ve never been into slings before, but all I could think about was being fucked in that thing. I would never do it at a party like that where I really didn’t know anyone; I’m not stupid, but I was getting off on watching. This guy bent me over the back of a couch and spread my legs wide. I don’t know how many guys were behind me but there were fingers and mouths all over me. They were finger fucking me and tongue fucking me, and the whole time I was just watching the kid in the sling, imagining that I was up there. Finally I let one of the guys fuck me over the back of the couch, it was fucking hot, but it wasn’t what I really wanted.
"I want you to tell me what it would be like if you had me in a sling. I want you to describe it to me."
So I did. I told him how hot he would look and how hard it would make me, how hard it made me just thinking about it. I can’t speak for him, but I had a pretty fucking good orgasm that night, considering I was in a room all by myself.
When we were in Pittsburgh, we tricked together on a regular basis, but this time, living in New York together, it seems to be different. We never talked about it, but tricking together is just something we don’t do. So I can honestly say that I don’t know if Justin does it anymore. If I had to guess I ‘d say that he doesn’t. He gets different things from tricking than I do, and while he enjoys it, I think he’s just as happy without it. Somehow I never thought I would be, and now these three weeks are shaking my foundation.
I spend several days tossing the situation over in my head. I was in my darkroom one afternoon working when something completely new hit me.
Most people would say that I’m pretty adventurous sexually, Christ, I’ve even had sex with women. Though, I must admit, that was pretty much just to prove that I really could have anyone I wanted. With all the shit I’ve done, I’ve never once fucked bareback. It might be hard to believe, but I’d never even given it much thought before. I’m not a dreamer. I prefer to live in reality, and to me fucking raw has always been something that would never fit into my life. I came of age sexually in a time where AIDS was a serious threat, and as far as I’m concerned, that hasn’t changed. Deb had a lot to do with my healthy fear, and she shoved a condom in my hand every time I left the house. While I can be reckless in other ways, I’ve seen enough people get sick to know that it’s not a good way to go. But if I wasn’t tricking…
Now, all of a sudden, I’m considering something I never considered before, and I can’t get it out of my mind. In fact, the imagery in there is pretty vivid. I’m confident Justin would be on board with the idea, though you never know for sure with him. It scares the shit out of me, honestly.
Promising monogamy is a hard thing to reverse. Things work the way they are now, but I’m not sure how Justin would take it if we were monogamous for six months, one year, ten years, and then I had to tell him I couldn’t do it anymore. I can say now that I see myself with him for the rest of my life, but I’m still not sure I can say I don’t want to fuck anyone else that entire time. When we were engaged none of this shit came up. I guess I was just too fucked up about everything that had happened to think any of this through.
I decide it’s best to keep my mouth shut as opposed to fucking everything up by doing something stupid like suggesting we give this thing a try and then fucking some guy at the gym. This works for a few weeks, until I realize I’m subconsciously counting down to the three month point. I realize I’m going to be fucking pissed, no doubt irrationally, if I don’t fuck anyone but Justin for three months, get tested, suggest we fuck raw, and find out that he’s been fucking guys all along.
However, I once again convince myself it is better not to say anything. I rationalize that three months is a good test for the rest of my life, and if I have to wait another three months for him to be ready, then I’ll just deal. All of this because I imagine that fucking him raw will feel like an amazing combinations of his warm wet mouth and his tight hole, and because the image I’ve conjured up in my mind of him on all fours with my cum dripping from his hole has me hard all day long. Justin doesn’t seem to notice that we’re having even more sex than usual, but I can’t keep my hands off him.
Once I’ve finally made my mind up about this whole thing, I feel surprisingly happy with it. What has me freaked out is how to tell him. Our last foray into monogamy was less than successful. I know now I was, for lack of a better description, out of my fucking mind. So how do I convince him that this time it is different?
This time it seems to be coming naturally; it happened without me realizing at first. While it freaked me out a bit, it doesn’t feel like a strain, it feels OK. Last time I wanted to do it to make him happy; now I feel like it’s something that will make us both happy. In my head it all makes sense, but I can never really seem to communicate what’s in my head to Justin in a way that doesn’t get me in trouble. I could sell a fucking membership to a tanning salon to an albino, but with Justin I rarely use my words properly. Luckily he’s caught on over the years, and he usually cuts me some slack.
When I have finally managed to live through the longest three months of my life, and have received a clean bill of health, I decide it’s time to let Justin in on my thoughts. Being me, I don’t really fight fair. I wait until we’re in bed, until Justin is begging me to fuck him after one of the best, not to mention longest, rim jobs I have ever given, and then I whisper in his ear, "I want to fuck you raw."
I’m rubbing my fingers around in the saliva dripping from his asshole, and I know I have him from the sound he makes. "Can you imagine what it would feel like? I can’t think of anything that turns me on more than the thought of doing that to you."
I’ve got my fingers inside him now, and I’m not being gentle. I can feel that he’s close to coming. I decide to let him. As much as I want to get inside of him right now, the rational part of me knows we need to have a discussion about this before going through with it, and the poor kid hasn’t gotten a coherent word out yet.
"And I want you to do it to me too. Imagine how wet and slippery and warm my hole would feel on your bare cock."
He’s panting and smeared in come. Seems like he enjoyed my suggestion. Only when I put his hand on my dick, which is feeling a little neglected, he sits up suddenly and says,
"Fuck off," as he heads to the bathroom. What the fuck was that for? I lie in bed for a few minutes, trying to figure out what just happened before following him.
"Mind telling me what the hell that was about?"
"I don’t know what the fuck you’re up to, but I didn’t appreciate that."
"Fuck you, looked to me like you appreciated it plenty."
"You know what I mean."
"No, actually, I don’t. Please enlighten me."
"If you’re serious then that is a fucking shitty way to bring it up, and if you’re just teasing me, then you’re a bigger prick than I thought."
He’s probably right, and even if he’s not, I just want to get laid, so I climb in the shower behind him and wrap my arms around him. "I wasn’t teasing you, I was serious. I guess that wasn’t the best way to bring it up, but we both know I suck at this shit, it’s just part of the deal."
"I don’t think we should talk about this here."
"Why not here?"
"Because we both know this isn’t just a conversation about barebacking, and I’m not sure I can have the discussion we need to have with your dick rubbing all over my ass."
This isn’t how I had hoped this would go. I figure I’ll still get to fuck him, but in no time, he’s out of the shower, dried off, dressed, and out the door. How is it that after all these years I still can’t figure this kid out?
For the next few days he ignores and avoids me. Other than my after-cancer issues, this is the longest I’ve gone without sex since I became sexually active in the first place. It’s only a few days, but I’m feeling pretty pissed about it. Pissed enough to consider going out to fuck someone else, but not stupid enough to actually do it.
When he finally decides to talk to me again, he acts like nothing happened. I keep expecting him to bring it up, but he just doesn’t. Finally, one morning while he’s fucking around in the kitchen making breakfast, I can’t stand it anymore.
"Are we ever gonna talk about it?"
"I’m sorry, what are you referring to?"
"And you wonder why I call you a twat. I want to fuck you raw. Do you want to talk about that?"
"Oh, that. Are you really serious about that? I kinda figured you would forget about it." He’s still messing around, buttering his bagel and pouring juice.
"I’m not going to forget about it."
"As I pointed out, there’s more to this conversation than fucking raw. Do you realize what you’re suggesting?"
"And that’s something you want?"
I know that I have to answer this right. I know this is important. My instinct is to say something shitty like, "I want to fuck your tight ass with my bare cock, so I’ll deal with not fucking other guys," but I also know that would be the worst possible thing to say. I decide short and sweet is the safest bet. "Yes."
"Remember when you proposed to me?" Oh great, here it comes. You suggested this once, and you didn’t really mean it then, why should I believe you now? "Remember how you made me say it… you made me say that I wanted to marry you. I think this is one of those situations."
This kid never stops surprising me. "I haven’t fucked anyone else in over three months. I’m serious about this. I only want to be with you. And only partially so I can fuck you raw."
"I don’t know really, just kinda happened naturally, but then I gave it some thought and decided it was good."
"OK I have one condition."
"I get to fuck you first."
It’s like somewhere along the way we brokered a silent deal. I’ll talk about shit once in awhile to make him happy, and in return he keeps the conversation short and sweet so as to keep my stress level as low as possible. It seems to work for us.
Turns out it was just as I suspected, Justin hasn’t been tricking recently, and he too has received a clean bill of health about a month ago when he was in for his regular tests. So now breakfast is over, and we have a whole new plan for the day. I think the gym and an afternoon in the darkroom are now officially out for me, and it seems like Justin has lost interest in painting for the time being.
Justin didn’t fuck me first, because as much as he’ll enjoy it when the time comes, and as much as he likes giving me shit about it, that isn’t what really turned him on about this whole thing. This idea’s turned him on for a long time. He thought it was a good idea back when we hardly knew each other and he was some naïve little teenager, but the fantasy wasn’t his dick in my ass. He wants to feel me come inside him. It’s that simple. It’s dirty and taboo and basically everything that makes sex good.
I can’t tell you how many different scenarios I’ve worked out for this in these past few months. How I would fuck him, what it would feel like, what it would look like?
Somehow we end up in our bedroom, and I’m on top of him on the bed basically eating him alive, his mouth, nipples, dick. He pulls me to him and whispers with that sexy little voice of his, "No lube this time, I just want you and me." I stick a couple of fingers in his mouth and he gets them all wet, and then I use them to rub all around outside his hole.
"I want you to come on me first and then use your come to make me all slick and fuck me."
The little boy knows how to paint a picture with his words almost as well as he does with a fucking brush. "I’d come on your face, but you wouldn’t be able to keep your mouth off of me. I’d come on your belly, but I don’t think that’s what you really want. I think you want me to turn you over and come on your ass and then use my fingers to smear it around and push it inside you."
"Fuck, yes please."
He’s a little breathless, and I feel the same way. I guess I’m moving too slowly for him, because he turns himself over and lifts his ass in the air, legs spread wide, while his face and chest rest on the bed. My dick is wet in my hand, and I rub it right over his hole squeezing gently to leave as much pre-come behind as possible. I wet one finger in my mouth, while using the other hand to stroke my own dick. I use my wet finger, just one, to play with Justin’s hole, I tap a few times and then push in a little.
I know I’m driving him crazy. One finger is just a tease for him. I can feel myself, close to coming, and I pull my finger out of his ass and out of the way. He moans louder than I do when he feels it hit him, and I don’t even pause to pull myself together before my come covered fingers, three to be exact, are pushing deep inside him. I purposefully bump his prostate on the first stroke, and he comes just from that. His back arches sharply and his ass clenches almost painfully hard around my fingers. I reach my free hand under him before he’s done, to catch as much of his come as I can. I pull my fingers free and add his come to the mess on his ass. Then I lean in and take a long lick from his balls up and over his hole, which is still spasming a bit.
"That was pretty fucking hot, and I haven’t even put my cock in you yet. You sure you can handle this?"
I’m teasing, of course; there’s no way either one of us is stopping now. He rolls over to face me.
"I’m not sure I can handle this, but I’m looking forward to trying." He grins and wraps his legs around me pulling me close. My dick is up against his wet ass, and if there was any question, I am definitely hard again. With very little fanfare I slip inside him. It’s everything I love about fucking Justin, only better. Not sure any other description will do it justice.
This time around it seems to work for us. I guess I just have to come to things at my own pace. Some people would say nine years is a long fucking time to wait for monogamy, but I guess Justin’s just more patient than other people - and more persistent for that matter.
I’ve always loved his body. He has hands down the best skin I have ever seen. Even in his youth it was always blemish free. He is toned but not overly muscular, and he has the best ass I’ve ever fucked, which is saying something. Great lips, great dick, the kid is damn near perfect. So from the moment I picked a camera back up, and started getting serious about photography, I had to take his picture. I do see a certain amount of irony in the fact that his first gallery show included a naked sketch of me, and my first gallery show revolves around naked photographs of him. My other photography is good, but a little dry. It’s aesthetically pleasing and works great for ad campaigns, but it wasn’t until I got serious about taking his picture that I was able to capture any emotion. At first I just liked taking dirty shots of him, but somewhere along the line I recognized that they were better than anything else I had done.
When I finally took Justin up on showing a portfolio to a few of the galleries he worked with he was excited, but then he freaked out a little when he saw which shots I intended to include; such a prude. He got past that quickly, and now he’s prancing around the gallery beaming as everyone ‘oohs’ and ‘ahhs’ over how pretty he is. Our whole family came out for the event, and I notice that his mother is being very careful not to look too closely at the pictures, while Ted and Emmett and Cynthia can’t seem to pry their eyes away. All in all, it goes pretty well. That night when we’re finally alone, though only in our bedroom because the whole gang seems to be staying with us, I finally get to hear how Justin thinks it went.
"You trying to steal my job, old man?"
"Looks that way, watch your back."
"I always have to watch my backside around you." We crawl into bed together, and he wraps all around me the way he always does when he wants to talk before we fuck.
"You did really good tonight."
"Why are you so good at everything you do?"
I don’t know how to answer that without acting like a dick, which I don’t feel like doing right now. This is nice, and I don’t want to fuck it up like I usually do.
"I don’t know."
He smiles and holds me tighter. "I’m glad you’re here."
"I’ve been here a while now, did you just decide now that you’re glad?"
"Well you know us, this had potential to blow up in our faces, but it didn’t. I would even go so far as to say we’re both happy."
"I’ll be even happier when all these people get out of my house, and I can fuck you so hard you scream."
"Just pretend they aren’t here."