CHAPTER 6
Bradford
I’m floating on air. It’s like my feet don’t touch the ground the whole journey home from the beach. I know I shouldn’t feel like this. It’s ridiculous. Right now, though, I couldn’t care less. I am going to enjoy my little bubble of happiness. God knows it’s been in short supply lately.
Getting home just cannot happen quickly enough for me. Once I’m inside my flat and I’ve dealt with Brendan’s harness, I head directly to my study. I need a hit of that magic again. When I barge through the door, I immediately notice the neatly-made bed. Nobody ever makes my bed for me. But Bruno did. I’m all choked up. I wish I’d come in here and spotted it before we went out. I wish I’d been able to make a great big fuss over it. Now, Bruno will never know how utterly moved I am by his gesture.
It’s warm in here, so I switch on the air conditioner, draw the curtains and shut the door. After kicking off my shoes and peeling back the covers, I slide onto the mattress. I can smell Bruno’s scent. It’s definitely there—powerfully masculine and comforting. Pulling the pillow he slept on against my nose, I breathe in deep and fall softly into Eden. I’m a teenager once more and this is my fantasy.
“It’s nice to see you with a smile on your face again, Bradford.”
I startle at the sound of her voice. “ Mum .”
My God, it must have been four years since she’s visited. The first time it happened, I’d not long lost most of my remaining eyesight. My life had reached a level of desperation so intense that I was strangely calm. The magnitude of everything I’d been hit by was too much to take in, so I didn’t. Then suddenly one day, I did. Spectacularly. I was in a heap on the floor bawling my eyes out when her voice swooped into my consciousness like some kind of supernatural salve.
It wasn’t like those silly movies where the character does a pantomime freakout when they first see something that shouldn't be there. Her appearance was natural and organic. I wanted to believe in her presence so much that she made herself even more present. My sheer will strengthened everything I saw and heard.
Mum was there through the worst of that first year. Not all the time—she dropped in briefly and at random. “I can only show up when I’m needed,” she’d tell me. “I have no say in these things, otherwise I’d never go away.”
And one day, when I truly believed I’d found happiness again with Jarrod, she did.
I turn over on the mattress, trying to adjust my eyes in the dark room. There sits my mother, perched on the top lid of my piano, her feet dangling down to the keyboard.
“He’s gorgeous. Very sexy,” she says, with a coyly-raised eyebrow. Her voice doesn’t resonate externally. It echoes only in my head, but it’s clearer, like it’s not tainted by anything going on in the real world.
A sudden thought hits me. “Jesus! You weren’t here last night, were you?!”
Mum chuckles, a deep throaty laugh. “Darling, I may have changed your nappies when you were a baby, but there’s no way I’m barging in on that sort of thing.”
Well, her sense of humour is still intact. I look at her there, poised on the edge of my upright, wearing her favourite painting smock. She’s not the same woman who wasted away in front of my eyes. Sure, she’s still a sixtysomething. But she’s every bit the vibrant, esoteric art teacher I knew all my life—and not a day older than she was when she used to come and see me several years ago. “You left,” I whisper. “I never got to say goodbye. Again. ”
Her face furrows and her eyes radiate sadness. “Oh, darling. I really have no—”
“No say in these things. I know.” I can’t hide the weary resignation in my tone.
“We’re not really talking about anything as nebulous as the last time I appeared before you, are we, Bradford?” I don’t answer, so mum presses on. “You can’t keep beating yourself up. It’s senseless. I don’t want this gnawing away at your soul forever. Please. ”
That night still haunts me. I was exhausted. The palliative care nurse convinced me to go home and get some sleep. I sat beside mum as she lay in her hospital bed, holding her hand, and I sang Che Gelida Manina . It was always her favourite. I knew she couldn't respond, but I hoped she could hear every note—every crack and wobble in my heartbroken voice as I tried to get through that aria like it was a lullaby. At the end, I held ‘Vi piaccia dir’ as long as I could, till the last strains of the imaginary orchestra died down. Then I kissed her forehead and I left. Less than thirty minutes later, on my way home, I got the phone call to tell me that she’d passed.
“If only I hadn’t gone, mum. If only I’d stayed half an hour longer, I could have said goodbye.”
I’m fighting back some kind of deluge. It’s odd. I should be immune by now. Mum and I have discussed this before, years ago when the wounds were fresh. And I still think about that night all the time. But right now, I'm not just thinking. I’m actually saying it out loud and it’s so much more painful.
Mum’s now on the edge of the bed. She doesn’t float over like some cartoon apparition. She doesn’t climb down and walk over like some anthropomorphic ghost. It’s like a jump cut—she’s just here instantly, exactly where I need her to be. “Bradford,” she says softly, “ listen to me. You blessed me with the most wonderful send-off I could ever have asked for. Your voice… it gave me permission to leave. Never, ever doubt how perfect that was.” Something in her expression soothes the pain in my chest. Just as in life, this has always been the way with her. “But if you’re really intent on making it up to me, there’s something you can do, you know.”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t waste a day, Bradford. I can see how things are for you here with Jarrod. You don’t have to stay in a relationship that doesn’t make you happy.”
I give mum a look. She knows what I’m going to say. “Sadly, you could apply that same principle to my bloody dad, couldn’t you.”
“Different situation entirely. I thought we were happy. It came out of the blue.” She fusses with her top, primly smoothing it down. “Anyway, he didn’t just walk out on me. He walked out on you too, and for that I will never forgive him.” Her eyes meet mine in defiance. “Yeah, yeah. I know I’m supposed to be all angelic and fluffy, but I still have my quirks and I’m not apologising for them.”
The look on her face has me in stitches. I start to cackle, releasing the rush of emotional energy that’s been building inside me. After I’ve wiped the tears from my eyes, I glance up again and she’s gone. Nowhere to be seen. “Oh. Goodbye, Endora.”
Ever so faintly, her reply rings in my ears. “That’s not my name.”
***
Bruno comes through with the goods. After spending Saturday evening catching up with Summer and Nathan, then ploughing through online teaching work on Sunday, my phone buzzes with a text at seven p.m. that night.
brUNO: OK, mate. I reckon this is the right amount of time, don’t you?
God. Could this man be any more in tune with me?
brADFORD: I’d say you were pretty spot on, there, Bru.
brUNO: And you’re still interested in meeting up again?
Ha. Am I ever.
brADFORD: I’m keen as mustard.
brUNO: How do you feel about soccer?
brADFORD: I know next to nothing about it. I can bone up if necessary.
brUNO: Jesus, mate… all I’ve thought about the last two days is you boning up.
Yeah, that was deliberate. And I have more.
brADFORD: Sorry. Ask me about cricket and I’ll definitely be able to chew the fat with you.
brUNO: Bloody hell, I’m gonna need to have a wank now.
brADFORD: Been there, done that already.
This is the truth. But I’m so turned on right now I’m sure I could manage it a second time.
brUNO: Mate, you are a torturer. Next time I want evidence!
brADFORD: That can be arranged. But before I whip it out again, maybe you’ll tell me what you were gonna say about soccer?
brUNO: Sorry, got sidetracked with all that talk about your beautiful dick. I play for a gay social team on Saturday afternoons. It’s our final game next weekend, so I thought maybe you might wanna come and watch me make a fool of myself?
brADFORD: Mate, I’m sure you’re brilliant. It’s all in the Italian genes. Count me in.
I know I’ll just spend the whole time squinting at small blurry figures running around a field, but I don’t care. Any excuse to see this man again is fine by me.
***
The week drags by like any other. Jarrod’s return on Sunday night is uneventful. We don’t talk beyond the necessary household exchanges. He comes and he goes and I don’t question it. I’m used to this pattern and I don’t care to cause any waves. I just get on with my daily routines: walking Brendan, running errands, working online, listening to audiobooks. When Jarrod’s not home, I watch TV. I know he can’t stand the audio descriptions I have to have switched on, so I generally make myself scarce when he’s around.
Running in the back of my mind is my next meetup with Bruno. Every detail of our weekend together is emblazoned on my memory. I’m trying not to show any excitement in my day-to-day mood; I don’t want Jarrod to get suspicious. Of course, our whole open arrangement is old news now, and if Jarrod can fool around, so can I. I’m just mindful about giving him any ammunition, any reason to send snide comments my way. So, as far as the topic of Bruno is concerned, I’m keeping mum.
Bruno stays in contact throughout the week. I notice his text messages are sent under the pretext of making arrangements for the weekend. I know what he’s up to and it’s a charming little game. He’s letting me know he’s keen without trying to look too obvious, and it makes me feel like a giddy adolescent all over again. The fact that his texts always lead to a stream of flirtatious SMS banter gives me the best kind of butterflies. I’m trying to be guarded and not get my hopes up, but dammit, I need this. I can’t help the way I feel, and I don’t want any of it to stop.
***
Saturday afternoon rolls around and not a moment too soon. Thankfully, Jarrod’s at work, or at least I think he is. I’m dressed in my Nike trainers, a tight Puma polo and another of my many pairs of slutty little running shorts. I almost look as if I’m gonna be playing in today’s match, which would definitely be a sight. I take my hat off to those low-vision people who do blind sports, but it’s a skill I’ve never even looked into, let alone learnt.
Brendan is all ready, having brought me his harness as soon as I appeared in the living room with my shoes. He’s sitting there patiently, most likely wondering why we haven’t left yet. I’m hoping Bruno isn’t running late, because I can sense the anticipation emanating from my four-legged friend. I don’t feel too guilty, though; we’ve already been for a long morning walk together.
Bruno is bang on time. There’s no intercom in my little apartment building, so he knocks directly on my front door. I wonder how I should greet him. It’s silly, given the fact we’ve already enjoyed each other's bodies so comprehensively. But a week is a long time, especially in gay time.
Once again, my anxiety is quelled as soon as I open the door. Bruno and I move with magnetic speed towards each other, wrapping our bodies together in a big bear hug. He’s so warm, so strong, so solid yet so soft and cuddly. I let out an audible breath as relief overtakes me. Wave after wave of it bombards my body, running from my scalp and straight down my spine. I’m shocked to realise the amount of tension I’ve been carrying around.
Bruno growls as he nuzzles against my cheek, coming around to kiss me gently on the lips. What starts off as innocent quickly escalates when his tongue barges into my mouth. He tastes of mint. He grunts softly as we begin to spar. Oh, God, I’ve been dying for this all week.
Pulling away from my lips, Bruno lowers himself to my height, pressing his belly close and grinding his crotch against mine. I can feel the hardness of our erections bumping over each other. “As much as I’d love to take you into that study and fuck you till you scream, we’d better press pause and get going,” he says with a smirk.
I study his face, watching the glint in his eyes. What I wouldn’t give to be able to turn the clock back a couple of hours right now.
Brendan and I follow Bruno out of the building to his car. I’m expecting some bog-standard kind of recent-model SUV, like everybody seems to drive nowadays. What he leads me to is a beautifully-restored Holden Kingswood HQ sedan. It must be as old as I am. “Wow, these are worth a fortune!” I say, as I walk around it, admiring the gleaming metallic duco.
“Upwards of forty grand. But I bought it a long time ago for a fraction of that. It was a real labour of love getting it into this condition.”
“So, you’re one of these butch blokes who knows all about cars?”
“Ha! Not at all. Gab’s husband Claudio handled most of it. I just did what he told me to.”
I notice his HQ is one of those ones with a front bench seat. I also notice the immaculate cream upholstery. “I might just duck inside and get the car hammock for Brendan.” I’m not sure how far we’d be able to push the bench seat back so Brendan could sit in the front footwell. In any case, he'll be perfectly happy sitting behind us. With Bruno’s help, the thick dog hammock is secured and Brendan is strapped in place. I swear I can see him smile as he pants away, staring regally out the window.
We head west along Oxford Street, through Moore Park and Alexandria, then down past Sydenham to Fraser Park football club. On the way, Bruno tells me about his morning, how he’s been to his parents to give them some help around the house. “Dad had a stroke a while back, but he’s recovering well,” he says. “He has a carer come in a few times a week. Mum definitely isn’t pleased about that.” He gives a little snort. “Typical proud Italian mamma. But it’s really too much for her to handle on her own. Me and my sister do whatever we can, but we both work and Gabriela has her boys to look after as well.”
Bruno’s devotion to his family speaks volumes. It seems the picture of him I’m forming in my mind is turning out to be pretty accurate. I like this man. I want to know everything about him, and I hope he sticks around, in whatever capacity.
The main sports field at Fraser Park has stands on one side, next to a low building which I assume houses the changing rooms and showers. Brendan and I follow Bruno as he leads us right around to sit in the front row of seats. He looks so damn sexy in his soccer getup. His jersey hugs his broad shoulders and shows off his padded physique and belly. His floppy soccer shorts mould around his big buttocks, wedging right in between them. God, the way that arse talks to me as he walks along is driving me mental. I’m already erect and leaking into my shorts. I can safely say I'd have no qualms about grabbing him and ravaging him right here, right now.
Once Brendan and I are settled on our bench, Bruno jogs out onto the field nearby to join his team mates. Everyone is dressed in their own gear, they’re not wearing any kind of team uniform. I remember Bruno saying something about this being social soccer, so I suppose that’s why, but I wonder how they tell the teams apart. Then I spot the guys putting on those coloured bib things. Of course, silly me.
While they all do their pre-game warm-up, I take in my surroundings. There are only a few other people in the stands, plus the odd group dotted around the outside of the field. Looks like it’s just a friends-and-family situation, but it’s kind of nice how relaxed and low-key the atmosphere is.
The game gets underway and I try my best to see what I can. As I’d anticipated, the boys are just blurry figures—I can’t make out any detail. I do, however, spot a bald head with a big black beard every now and then. Bruno seems right into the whole thing, and I can’t help feeling some misguided sense of pride. There’s no way I can tell who’s kicking what, but I like to think he and his team are thrashing the others. Right now, I could really do with a sighted person to give me a running commentary.
Half time arrives and the team go off to their respective areas. I crane my neck and squint till I spot the big bald bear. My heart jumps a little when I notice him turn my way and wave to me. It’s such a simple gesture, but it fills me with a kind of hope that I know I’m not entitled to. I wish I could see him better. I wish I could see the expression on his face. Instead, I’m left to imagine these nuances as I wave back at Bruno’s blurry form.
I only know the match is actually over when I hear cheering and see guys running around and jumping up and down hugging each other. I’m so clueless, I’m not even sure who won until I see some of the men jogging towards the stands and spot Bruno in amongst the joyous melee. Breaking free, he makes his way to me and I stand up just in time to get a big sweaty bear hug.
“I don’t know how much you could see,” he pants, “but that was fuckin’ awesome!”
A couple of guys jostle up behind Bruno. “Hey, big boy! Drinks in the green room,” one of them says excitedly.
Bruno shakes his head. “Nah, we might just take off now.”
“No bloody way! You’re coming.” He grabs Bruno by the shoulder, then looks squarely at me. “You too. Hop to it.”
Bruno seems momentarily uncomfortable, but gives a small smile of defeat. “Just a quick one?” he says to me.
I don’t really have time to assess his reaction, because me, my bag and my dog are seemingly whisked towards the building behind the stands. The “green room” that the guy mentioned turns out to be just the changing room, where teammates are laughing and rough-housing. Some of them are on benches pulling off their shoes, so Brendan and I slink off to the side and have a seat near them, taking in the general flurry of excitement. I startle as I hear a loud pop, then another. Champagne sprays through the air as two men circle the room, doing their best to drench us all. They certainly get me a good one. I’m summarily saturated with sparkling wine, though I can’t help but laugh along with everyone else.
“Jesus, you’re soaked!” Bruno appears through the tangle of men and stands in front of me, offering me a plastic cup half-full of whatever they haven’t managed to paint everyone with.
“All part of the experience,” I grin, as I’m showered by more droplets from a shaking Brendan.
A number of rousing, shambolic speeches are up next. I can’t really make out much of what they’re saying, given the amount of ribald interjections and cheering. I notice some guys are now stripped down to their underwear or wrapped in towels as they join in with the merriment.
Soon, the speeches dissolve into general chatter. A few men start to file into the adjoining room and I hear the cascading sound of showers being turned on. Bruno makes his way back over to me. “We should get going,” he urges.
“Not a chance,” booms a voice behind him. A towel flicks Bruno, and as he swivels around in protest, a hairy otter stands there naked, dick swinging happily between his legs. “You fuckin’ stink, Bruno. Get in there!”
Bruno grimaces and shoots me an apologetic look. I can’t help but feel amused at his shyness as he starts to undress. You’ve got nothing to be ashamed about, mate. I stare in admiration as he shucks his shorts and undies and that big package of his comes into view.
“Hurry up!” barks a voice to my left and a hand tugs at my arm. I look sideways to see a furry young cub in a towel grinning at me.
“Oh, no, I wasn’t even—” A towel lands across my face and I’m jostled to my feet by multiple sets of hands. Everyone’s laughing. It’s all in good fun. I guess I can go along with it, it’s not like I haven’t showered naked in front of other men before.
It takes me seconds to kick off my shoes and strip out of my sticky champagne-soaked clothes. Maybe a shower will do me good after all. I leave my rogue towel with Brendan, and I’m swept with the few remaining guys into the next room. My errant eyes are suddenly feasting on a sea of naked bodies. This is clearly an old amenities block—there are no cubicles, just a multitude of open shower nozzles along three walls. Sexy, hairy arses, swinging penises, dad bods, chunky cubs, burly bears, slim otters, a muscly dude or two… my own dick is betraying me. I’ve deliberately abstained from masturbating for days, anticipating a big horny reunion with Bruno. But now I’m rapidly becoming hard. Jesus Christ, Bradford. Look away. How embarrassing!
Scanning the room, I spot Bruno’s rear side and gravitate towards him. He’s down near the corner and the shower head next to him is free. As I turn on the hot water, he looks my way and does a double take.
“Yeah, I know, Bru—I was coerced. I didn’t have much say in it.” I grin at him, reaching across to the shelf and helping myself to what I assume is his body wash. I quickly lather myself up, making sure to stroke my cock while I look at him. If I’m going to be hard and horny, I want it to be because I’m taking in the sight of the sexiest man in here.
Bruno growls, following suit. His right hand slides his foreskin back and forth, his semi quickly working its way to full mast. My own penis is throbbing now as I quickly rinse the body wash off myself. I hope no one has noticed our surreptitious little mating dance. I’m sure they’re all busy doing their own thing, anyway.
A wanton moan sails through the air and I look over my shoulder. As I squint around the room, I’m shocked and intrigued to find some kind of orgy happening. I spot a guy on his knees giving an enthusiastic blow job. A few other guys are clustered together, groping each other. Another guy is pressed up against a wall with a man behind… fucking him?
Oh, my God, it’s like half-price Tuesday at Sydney Sauna.
“This is why I didn’t want us to come back here after the game.” Bruno takes a step forward and pulls me into his arms. I can feel the thickness of his penis as it flexes hard against me. “I’ve only played at this ground once before, and with all these open showers, things inevitably ended up like, you know...” He keeps one arm across my shoulder as he steps back and turns to take in the full spectacle. “We should be able to slip out of here and take off now, though.”
“Too late,” I choke out. A mouth has just clamped around my penis and I look down to see the young cub who’d practically dragged me in here. He’s sucking me with incredible proficiency, pressing his tongue up against the underside of my knob, busily wiggling my PA ring. It’s bloody exquisite. Without missing a beat, his hand reaches up and grabs Bruno’s erection, pumping it rhythmically as he continues slurping away at my dick.
“Oh, God,” Bruno sputters, after Young Cub’s mouth suddenly pops off my cock and presumably suctions straight onto his. Yep, there he goes. “I guess we could…” Bruno leans closer to my ear. “I realise I have no right to ask this, but I’d be more comfortable if we didn’t… um… actually fuck anybody else here.”
I move my head back out to gaze at his earnest expression. “You read my mind, Bruno. I want to save that for just us.”
A bashful smile ghosts across Bruno’s face and he presses his lips to mine. Our tongues start to dance while the cub toils away below, his hand expertly working my cock. Yeah, this is nice. Bruno’s deep growl against my mouth raises in a sudden crescendo and he breaks our kiss. “Oh, fuck!” He shudders and pants, and I peer around to see a man squatting behind him with his face buried in Bruno’s arse.
I grin up at Bruno. “Mouths working you from both sides, I see?”
Suddenly, it’s my turn to groan as the cub’s mouth slips back onto my cock again. Bruno grabs hold of my head and we lean into each other, kissing more hungrily this time. “Oh, mate,” he groans, “What I wouldn’t give to take you away and pound that tight hole of yours right now.”
As Bruno finishes his sentence, the phantom rimmer slides up from behind him, his grinning mug appearing above Bruno’s shoulder. “Eating that big hot arse of yours is fuckin’ amazing,” the man growls. “I’ll bet it’s even more amazing with my cock inside there.”
Bruno’s face goes all sheepish. “Uh… thanks, but maybe not, Jim. I only really do the fucking thing with one guy in here.”
“You mean this fella?” The man steps out from behind Bruno to get a good look at me. I cast my eyes up and down his figure. He’s a furry man in his forties with a sexy dad bod and a long, hard dick that he’s rubbing slowly and firmly. “He’s one hot little bear,” Jim says to Bruno. “I wouldn’t mind watching him pound your hairy manhole.”
The cub down below disengages from my dick with a lip-smacking sound. “Me too,” he chirps. “Then maybe you’ll switch?”
“Turn around and face the wall,” orders Jim, spanking Bruno fair on the arse. “Let’s see what your boyfriend here can do.” While I stifle a giggle at the ‘B’ word he’s just used, Jim holds up a bottle to me. “Conditioner,” he says. “I’ve loosened him up with my tongue, but he’s gonna need a little more lubrication before he takes that cock of yours.” A wolfish grin tugs at the corners of Jim’s mouth as he squirts a large amount of the creamy liquid into his hand. Reaching down, he rubs it into my dick with studied expertise. It feels incredible; I’m a sucker for a skilled hand. But I’m considerably more desperate to sink into Bruno’s delectable arse.
He’s already in position, facing the wall with his legs apart and his bum thrust right out. Now, he’s the perfect height for me. Gathering some of the conditioner from my dick, I rub two fingers against his hole until he allows them entry. In and out of his tight ring I pump them, stretching them apart as I go. Bruno moans quietly, turning up the volume as I work in a third finger. I know he’s ready now. After placing my knob against his well-probed pucker, all it takes is a slow and steady push till I’m buried to the hilt.
God, I remember how good this was. Grabbing onto Bruno’s hips, I start driving into him with gradual acceleration. “Fuck, that’s hot,” Jim growls. I glance across to see his hand sliding up and down his lengthy penis. In one quick motion, he’s on the floor and shuffling beneath Bruno. From what I can make out, I’m pretty sure his mouth is now servicing Bruno’s fat dick.
But Bruno isn’t the only one getting a little extra help. A finger—no two fingers—are suddenly slid into my arsehole, and they make their way straight to my prostate. Another hand is resting on my buttock, gauging the movement of my hips. The fingers inside brush systematically and gently over my g-spot, not missing a beat as I groan and begin to ram hard into Bruno’s arse.
Bruno’s moans turn into bellows, and I find myself joining in chorus with him. I’m suddenly glad for every mile I’ve walked up and down all those hills with Brendan. My arse is working overtime, my glutes are burning, my quads are flexed within an inch of their life. My anus tightens each time the guy behind me thrusts his fingers into it, which in turn causes my cock to flex hard inside the heat of Bruno’s rectum. It’s pleasure overload. I'm almost dizzy with how good it feels.
Over and above all this, I’m beyond excited to think I’m going to make Bruno come. I want him to bloody explode. I’m using every bit of strength in my brawny butt to pile-drive him into oblivion. Bruno’s legs begin to tremble and he stifles a wail. “Fuck, I’m gonna shoot,” he blurts. I feel his arse constricting wildly around my dick as he lets out a guttural roar, and I know I’ve done my job. “Oh, Jesus,” he whines, his body continuing to convulse. As his spasms slowly subside, I feel him starting to relax, and I slowly edge my hard cock out of his warmth.
The fingers vacate my hole and a body slides up behind me. “Your arse is fucking hot as hell,” I hear the cute cub whisper. “And so are you.”
I’m still trying to catch my breath as I turn my head sideways. “You can talk. And you’re bloody talented to boot.”
Cute Cub slaps me on the rump. “I’m off,” he whispers. “Thanks for the fun, sexy.”
Glancing down, I spot Jim shimmying out from under Bruno, looking like the cat who got the cream. Well, I guess he did get it, didn’t he. “You fucked one delicious load outta this bastard,” he says to me.
I’m chuckling and panting as I stand there stroking my cock. I desperately need to blow. Bruno’s turned back around now and he moves in close to me. Sliding his hands over my pectorals, he begins to caress my nipples. “You were fuckin’….” He shakes his head, lost for words. “You were a bloody animal. I came even harder than last week.”
His thumbs are gliding over the hardened nubs on my chest, my fist is speeding up on my cock, and— God —there are hands pulling my arse cheeks apart. A long tongue wastes no time spearing right into my arsehole and I nearly hit the roof. Jim. I can see now why Bruno was so impressed. I’m close, so very, very close…
There’s a bit of a commotion happening across the shower room, a flurry of voices. I’m right on the edge of orgasm and I’m far too thrilled to care. My hand is rubbing hard over my slick knob. The ring in my dick is twisting and turning, working me from the inside. My nipples are on fire. The tongue inside my anus is burying deeper and deeper.
A man rushes right over to us just as I tense up. I’m a live volcano and I’m about to—
“Fun’s over, guys,” the man mutters with urgency. I holler as my cock begins to pulsate. Thick missiles of spunk shoot out of me. One after the other they come in an exquisite barrage while my arsehole fights with the tongue that’s jammed inside it. My head is in a whirl as I gaze down and notice my load has landed in long, splattered lines on Messenger Man’s wrist. I look back up at him, wide-eyed. Slowly, he raises his arm and licks it all off. “Thanks for that,” he says with a wink.
***
After Bruno, Brendan and I have beaten a hasty retreat, we drive back through Sydenham. “You reckon Brendan might fancy a romp around the dog park?” says Bruno, as he takes a right turn and heads down to Tempe. “He was such a good boy, waiting there for us while… you know.”
I crane my neck around to look at Brendan in the back. His tongue is lolling out in the air conditioned comfort, a big smile on his doggy face. He knows what’s going on. “He’s definitely keen on that idea. And so am I.” Bruno and I might have got our rocks off back there, but I’m nowhere near ready to bail on a date that I waited a whole week for.
Bruno drives down a small street flanked by Tempe Recreation Reserve to the right, and some urban bushland to the left. Turning up a steep side road, we make our way through the trees to a car park. Just over from us towards the east is a huge fenced area. Bruno pulls up the sedan, letting the engine idle. “Bradford,” he says after a short pause, “is it too forward of me to say the only man there today I really wanted to be with was you?”
“Not at all.” I grab his hand and give it a squeeze. “It was definitely fun. Like a hot porn scenario. But I’ll take our one-on-one intimacy over that any day.” It’s the truth, but I’m being careful here. I don’t want to make a wrong move. I clear my throat and fix my gaze out the windscreen. “I don’t know the rules. I just know I want more of this bloke sitting beside me right now.” I steal a glance at Bruno, who reaches over and undoes my seat belt. Pulling me across the bench towards him, he wraps his arms around my shoulders and hugs me tight. Our upper bodies are twisted towards each other and our legs are awkwardly entangled, but this hug means so much more than we could possibly articulate at the moment.
Brendan is in his element in the dog park. He doesn’t visit them very often, he’s normally walking by my side. Plus, you hear all kinds of stories about aggressive dogs at these places. And dogs getting fleas. Fortunately, my little mate is in tip-top shape and has all his regular treatments.
At the moment, there are only a few others here. Squinting hard, I spot a couple of people over in a far corner with their dogs close by. Somebody playing fetch with a large black dog on the southern side of the park. Two people with what looks like fluffy little pooches frolicking happily near the northern edge.
Bruno produces a tennis ball from his pocket. I’m instantly touched as I realise he’s planned this whole outing. He launches into a spirited game of catch with Brendan. My lab is in seventh heaven, jumping and diving to grab the ball, then dutifully returning it to Bruno every time, eager for more. God, I wish I was able to do this properly. My attempts are always clumsy and slow. Ball sports and me parted ways after high school; my sight was already getting far too bad. Right now, though, I’m more than content to just watch these two. It warms my heart to see the way they interact.
***
By the time Bruno pulls up outside my apartment, it’s early evening. It won’t be dark for hours yet, so it doesn’t even feel late. It’s an odd time to end a date, but today seems to have reached its conclusion. I catch Bruno’s eye and he smiles at me. “I really want to invite myself in and spend the night,” he says. “Unfortunately, I’m working at seven a.m. tomorrow.” I watch his barrel chest rise and fall as he inhales and lets out a long sigh. “I hate day shifts, but they pretty much begged me to come in and I can’t say no to the Sunday penalties.” Grabbing my hand, he intertwines his fingers with mine. “Please don’t think I’m giving you the brush off. That’s the last thing I’d want.”
“Of course not,” I say. “We can catch up again anytime.” I’m trying to sound like so many things at once: patient, understanding, relaxed, yet keen. Yes, I’m really keen, but I don’t know how much I can let that show right now.
“You reckon we can do it one night this week?” Bruno ventures.
“Yeah, for sure. Anytime you want is fine by me.” Blatant, stupid happiness is seeping from every pore in my body. For once, I make the first move and shuffle over the bench seat to kiss Bruno goodbye. He slides his arm around my back and grips my shoulder as our lips meet and a blaze ignites.
Oh, God. I see it now. Bruno kisses without reserve. There’s no barrier to his heart. His innate and instinctual display of trust knocks me sideways. I’ve never been able to do what he does; I need that buffer, that layer of self-protection. But as we’re joined here tonight, as the electricity storms through our bodies and collides where our lips and tongues and clutching hands meet, something important becomes apparent. I have no layer this time. I am exposed. Bruno has opened a door and I’ve walked right through it.
The sound of our rushing breath fills the car as our lips finally part. Bruno’s head sinks forward and he nuzzles into my neck. His beard is a soft pillow against my skin. “Today was really nice, Bradford,” he mumbles against me. It’s not a grand statement, but it’s genuine in its simplicity. And it resonates with me more than I want to let myself believe.
Brendan and I stand at the kerb and watch Bruno drive away. I don’t know what’s going on, but amidst the bleak outlook of my day-to-day existence, I finally feel like there’s something to look forward to.
Back inside the apartment, I notice Jarrod has been home again. The lounge room that I'd carefully tidied has now been messed up. Jarrod’s dumped things on the couch and thrown cushions on the floor. On the coffee table, there’s a glass with dregs in it and a used ashtray. This pisses me off—we have a smoking area outside. It’s not raining, it’s not cold. Jarrod’s just lazy and selfish.
In my clean kitchen, there are now dirty dishes in the sink. The butter has been left out of the fridge, a smeared knife plonked on the bench next to it. The bread is sitting there open, slices tumbling out of the unsealed bag. In the bedroom, clothes have been strewn all over the mattress, and my nicely-straightened linen is crumpled.
I’m so bloody sick of this. A deep sigh rattles from my chest and I collapse onto my side of the bed. As I reach across to tap my talking clock, my hand bumps against a notepad. I didn’t leave this here. Picking it up, I see a message crudely scrawled with black Sharpie in Jarrod’s handwriting:
Gone away for a couple of weeks.
That’s it. Nothing else. I mean, I’m used to Jarrod taking off to visit family and friends down the coast. With his agency work, he’s able to get nursing shifts anywhere. Usually there’s some mention of these trips in advance, though.
You know what, Bradford? Who bloody cares. Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth. He’s gone. You can breathe easy for a little while.