Epiphany

It's Friday evening. The kids have retired to their upstairs domain and I am in my study listening to some very mellow Stan Getz and Joao Gilberto. Perfect chill-out music.

This week has been very much one of feast or famine. Monday was a day of rest; I had a few appointments on Tuesday; but on Wednesday and Thursday I saw client after client and felt quite drained as a result. Having foreseen this, I purposely left today free. And, indeed, I have essentially been very "free" all day.

I cannot adequately explain my mood this Friday. I feel care-free and at ease with the world. Some friends have recently advised me to lighten up a little and just go with the flow - drift for a while and not succumb to periodic fits of paralysis by analysis. Somehow, almost overnight, I am transformed into someone prepared to allow conscious pleasure and joy in the moment to triumph over my twin demons of scruples and conscience. It is a heady feeling - and it may prove ephemeral - but I am at peace with myself tonight.

After gym this morning, I arranged to visit Steve once I'd dropped the kids off at school. Wearing my favourite, near-antique T-shirt and board shorts, I was at his shack by 9.30am. This morning's initial hug was no hasty or token greeting. We held each other closely, kissed deeply, and then drew back to look down and laugh at our mutual signs of arousal. But there was neither need nor desire to rush this morning. We did not tear our clothes off and ravage each other's bodies. We knew there would be ample time for this - or maybe even a gentler, less urgent melding - in the hours ahead.

Over coffee, I thanked Steve again for the sketch of my house. I also thanked him for the nude he'd drawn of me and we laughed about whether I will ever be brave enough to display it at home. I think it will make its way onto a wall eventually, by which time I hope to be in a state of calm acceptance about myself, my life and my sexuality. Right now, though, I'm still very much at the start of the journey towards understanding.

Today, with so much time to spend together, Steve was keen to tell me more about his life - his time as an alcoholic and a drug addict, his experiences as a male prostitite, and his path to recovery. My job has made me a good listener but even the most inattentive of people would be held spell-bound by Steve's words today. He told me much that I already knew in terms of the depths to which people can sink, but today I also learned much more about how someone actually feels when plumbing those depths.

Having realised at an early age that he was sexually oriented towards his fellow man, Steve bravely attempted to discuss the matter with his family before actually coming out publicly. Already somewhat of a cuckoo in a family nest where art, long hair and emotions were despised, Steve might as well have confessed to being some reincarnated Marquis de Sade! If you depise a man long enough, he will grow to believe himself despicable. If you revile him enough, he will grow to see himself as vile and revolting. Steve's foray into the gay world brought him a degree of happiness on occasions, but it also led him to drink more and more with each passing affair. It also introduced him to recreational and then harder drugs. He may have followed a similar route even had he not been gay, but self-loathing only increased his need to escape into alcoholic black-outs and drug-induced psychosis.

There came a time when Steve could no longer paint and could scarely function at all. His sole ambitions in life were the next drink or the next injection. With no job to fund these habits, Steve became a rent boy. It was easy enough to do - already mired in self-hatred, he saw no indignity in allowing complete strangers to fuck him or offer their hard cocks for him to blow. And he was so desperate for money that he came to offer cut-rate services - quantity generated more income than quality. Eventually, Steve offered his body to the wrong person - an undercover cop - and he found himself in court, charged with solicitation and lewd and indecent behaviour in a public place. And that's when he got his first real break in a very long time. A pre-sentencing report was compiled by someone in the system who actually believed in redemption and Steve was offered a choice between a prison term or intensive, supervised rehabilitation. He chose the latter.

Steve spent over twenty years in a living hell and yet he has emerged far more angel than demon. His appearance is unscathed. His mind is undoubtedly another matter - there must be hideous scars there. You sense it when he talks about his family, or the guys who used his body, or the cop who blew the whistle after having his cock fondled for a while. He is gentle and accepting, not bitter and resentful, and I do not credit this to the genius of any rehabilitation guru. I think Steve has always been a gentle soul and I believe his natural inclination has always been to live a quiet life and bother no one.

When you're having a long chat, a good heart-to-heart session with a friend, there usually comes a time when you both lapse into companionable silence. You're all talked out and you smile at each other, knowing that something rare and indefinable - true communication, a real sense of being at one with each other - has taken place. Maybe you even sigh a little. This happened today, and on the second or third smiling sigh, we rose and embraced each other with a tender eagerness. I felt no reluctance when Steve took my hand and led me to his bedroom. I felt no simple animal lust either. It was just a natural extension of the closeness we had shared for the previous hour or two.

I began to remove my clothes but Steve stopped me, indicating that he wanted to undress me himself. I raised my arms as he removed my T-shirt and then kissed my nipples. Kneeling, he undid my board shorts and slid them to the ground so I could step out of them. Through the cloth of my briefs, he fondled my cock and balls and then applied his mouth to them. The tip of my dick had already seeped a wet spot into and through the fabric. When Steve finally removed this last article of clothing, my cock sprang free and rose to meet my stomach. I looked down as, in turn, each of my balls was captured within his mouth and given languid caresses by a warm tongue. Steve then drew back and applied his tongue to the droplets that had gathered at the head of my dick. Eventually his mouth and throat engulfed my entire cock and, whilst his tongue swirled at the shaft, he applied a gentle sucking motion that was infinitely pleasurable and which took me to the brink of exploding.

Sensing how close I was, Steve released my cock, stood up and quickly removed his own clothes. We held each other close, hardness straining against hardness, until I moved to kneel before him. But Steve held me upright and would not permit me to kneel. It seemed he had no wish for me to do to him the same things he had just done to me. Instead, we lowered ourselves onto the bed, embracing and kissing once more until Steve disengaged, moved me onto my back and again took my cock into his mouth. The nagging intensity of of his mouth and lips brought me once more to the brink, but this time Steve moved to straddle my chest and positioned my cock - already slick with saliva and pre-cum - at the entrance to his arse. Then, slowly, agonisingly slowly, he lowered himself onto me until I was buried to the hilt in heat and warmth. He contracted his sphincter somehow and it was as though my cock was encased by a glove of velvet.

There was no fucking really. No thrusting by me. No athletic squatting movements by Steve. He occasionally rocked forward a little, allowing me to feel the head of my cock rasp against his insides, but essentially he just sat there, squeezing, contracting his insides and then relaxing momentarily before squeezing again. I fondled Steve's balls and gently tugged his cock while he sat impaled upon me. He maintained eye-contact with me throughout and a smile seemed permanently etched on his face. I felt his balls contract as he continued to clamp and release my cock. I knew that the eye of my dick was weeping within him and close to exploding. He knew this too. One small rocking motion, one more intense gripping sensation, and Steve said: "Now". At this word, arc after arc of cum shot out of his dick and landed on my chest and face. Simultaneously, feeling each contraction as he blew, my own cock erupted inside him and lined the velvet glove with a warm rush of creamy, frothing cum.

This was no longer a mere visit. It was an epiphany.

Comments

I really like Steve. I love that even though his life was awful and its sad to say that started with his very own family he has survived to find a balance in his life. He used his arrest to help dig himself out of that dark dungeon that was smothering his whole self worth. He is trying to make his life happy. Which is what everyone wants in life, but not everyone gets. I love that he draws and that it brings not only him but others in his life Joy!

I am glad you both had true meaningful quality time. Thank you for sharing the intense, loving, non-rushed melding that left both of you feeling fulfilled and warm inside. Made my afternoon brighter to read this entry.
 
It's beautiful when our bodies are in sync with one another - our bodies and our spirits...it makes for amazing sex and intense orgasms!
 
We are all so much more than we appear on the surface. I have really come to like Steve... he is like a diamond made strong by being battered by life; he didn't allow himself to be crushed. Happy for you, comically...
 
Steve has gone through 20 years of hell, and is emerging into a world of possibilities and has met in you, Comicaly, a wonderful friend. And you are taking the view that seeking may involve drifting and allowing time to see things without trying to manage them. And you share with us an especially intimate sexual encounter that you are not managing, but simply allowing.

You and Steve share similar histories, and similar phoenix-like possibilities. A horribly difficult and prolonged life experience, very much involving sexual activity and sexual orientation, morphing, almost unbelievably, into a sane and mature interaction with the real world. You comment on the scars that Steve's mind must bear. You likely have similar ones.
But each of you has done the work of this transformation largely alone and you each continue to do it. And sincere friendships, when you each could tolerate and nurture them, have been a critical part of the transformation.

Steve has recognized and is nurturing and profiting from this relationship with you, Comically. And, I sense, the reverse is equally true.
 
I think Steve has always been a gentle soul and I believe his natural inclination has always been to live a quiet life and bother no one.

Once again a beautifully written passage. I can so strongly identify with Steve, and with your assessment of him. It is a miracle that the two of you have found each other, and especially that you have found this special bond that obviously gives both of you so much joy.
 

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