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Rated: 18+ · Other · Adult · #1725155
Do you believe in fate?
          I don't usually do well when left to my own devices. Staying out of trouble is a real challenge for me, at

least where sex is concerned anyway. Stefan was gone overnight for a lecture, just one night, I know it doesn't

seem like a long time, but to me? Well, it might as well have been a year, that's how much I hate being left alone

with just the crazy thoughts racing around my head to keep me company. The truth is, being alone scares me.

It's that simple. There's a bar close to my place and I know that if I go there I can get fucked, probably by more

than just one big hairy bear of a man, and if I play my cards right, hell, maybe I can even lure one back home

and convince him to do a lonely sissy a solid and stay with me 'til the sun comes up. And yes, it's as depressing

as it sounds. Once the sucking and fucking is completed, once that wad's been shot, reality sets in, and it ain't a

pretty sight, that's for sure. So I smoke a joint and try to relax and tell myself that if I can get through the next few

minutes this too will pass and maybe I'll be able to sleep soon and I won't feel like oh, I don't know, perhaps just

blowing my fucking brains out. And then, just then, my cell rings. "Unknown" flashes on the screen. Hmmm...


          It's the Turk. I am so grateful I could cry. I know it sounds fucking crazy but it's true. I could cry. I gave

him my number after our fuck session many weeks ago, almost positive he'd toss it in the street like so much

rubbish as soon as he was out of sight. I wouldn't have blamed him if he had, not one bit, considering the sordid

adventures Stefan and I engaged in. I had been left with a rather unsavory taste in my mouth after our session

with the Cubans and it seemed to intensify the more I dwelled on it. It wasn't just the fact that they were young,

although that fact contributed to my feeling of distaste, to be sure. We were like dirty old men. No, not "like"

dirty old men, we WERE dirty old men. And if we kept it up we'd just get older and dirtier and sadder, or maybe

not, perhaps we would finally lose at our game of Russian Roulette and get murdered by some trick or maybe

one or both of us would get that call telling us our results were back, and we really needed to come in...

What really struck me though, was the fact that no one, and I mean no one, has ever looked at me the way

Carlos looked at Eddie. He cherished him. And it was returned right back to him when Eddie smiled that sweet

little smile back at him. There was no denying it. Call yourselves fuckbuddies all you want boys, I know what I

saw, and it was something I've never had the pleasure of experiencing firsthand. And it was killing me and all

the cock in the world couldn't stop the pain.

 
          Mehmet tells me he's at a bar and he's sorry it's a little last minute but do I want a drink? This bar is not 

more than five blocks from me and I wouldn't care if it was five hundred blocks anyway, I'd run there in a foot

of snow if I had to. Stay put, I tell him as I throw on jeans and a hoodie and race out the door, not bothering

to tie the laces on my sneakers as I bound down the street. I don't even mind the drizzly rain too much as I

race into the bar and see him perched on a stool, gazing into his beer. The bar is a dark little hole in the wall,

predominantly but not exclusively gay, and most decidedly not one of my usual hardcore pick up joints. I'll bet

your shoes don't even stick to the floor in the lav is the crazy thought that pops in my head. He looks up and

we smile at each other for a moment and after I order a drink we wander to the jukebox and I am relieved to

discover we both love good music, mostly classic rock, and we agree wholeheartedly on one song in particular,

and after a minute Robert Plant's smooth, sexy voice is playing and Mehmet pulls me close to him in front of the

whole bar, which isn't too packed but still, it feels nice to be so openly the object of his affection and he smells

so fucking good, like a bar of soap, and the few mostly older queens in attendance smile at us as we dance

awkwardly for just a moment before dissolving into laughter at the thought of how silly we must look. And as I

gaze at him, all dark and stubbly and sweet, the song we picked out together first plays on.

"Light of the love that I found..."

             

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