You are fucking him in the bushes mindlessly at 3am blind drunk off your mind. He is spewing in the garden while your dick is still sliding in and out of him. His shit starts to stink. You pull out and wipe his shit off your cock with his undies. His phlegm is sprayed across the grass glistening in the moon light. You have sticky shit skin fingers, you can feel them sticking together, when you stick your cock back in him. His hands are out in front of him on the grass and his wedding ring is gold, occasionally glinting in the dim light. But you just need to plunge into him a few more times and you are cuming in his arse.
You pull him up to his feet and reach around and pull him off, while you kiss him. He has vomit flavoured, sour breath, you can taste it. He has a sticky foreskin with drying spit, but you tell him he was the best fuck you ever had and that your cum is inside his sticky arse, and he blows quickly in your hand, his mouth sucking onto your face as gasps in breath as he blows. His cum lubes up his cock again, and you can pull him harder. His mouth releases. Then sucking back onto your face as he cums again. And each time he cums. You are holding him around the neck. He cums over and over.
What can you say, this was unexpected for both of you. If you'd known, you'd have expected him to come prepared, still, it didn't slow him down any, now did it, he got it right in there. Fuck it felt good, opening him up like the little bitch that he is. His naked skin feels good in your arms in the moon light. He shakes in your arms. The smell of his shit is in the air.
He looks up at you with those eyes. Sexy and menacing? The eyes of a lover, or a psychopath, you are really not sure. You think they are the reason you liked him. The way he looked at you. With intent, demanding? It was the eyes, it had to be, as he wasn't much of a talker.
The wind blows cold in the dark. Bitter is the wind at 3.30am.
You shiver cold in the night. You start to say something, you don't know what. Words. Just say something.
“You married?” you ask.
“She doesn’t know,” he says. “She’s interstate.”
“Wow,” you say. You don’t know how people get away with that.
“You're a dirty daddy,” he says. You feel his teeth bite your neck. Snap! His teeth bite into your skin, that's what you feel. A sudden sting. You pull away. Surprised. You bring your hand to the side of your face, automatically. Your face is wet, also kind of sticky. It is numb, you can't feel it, is it blood? It is sweat. You look passed your hand to see the back of your guy’s head. You playfully slap him one for the bite.
“Don’t bite me again,” you whisper.
“I was just playin’.”
It’s the two of you in the park in the shadows at the edge of the bush’s in the early hours of the morning. Your jeans and jocks around still around your ankles. You wipe the sleeve of your hoodie across your sweaty face. Cum oozes from your cock now shrivelled the size of a footy frank.
You stop the other guy as he picks up his jocks.
“Leave them there?”
“Why?”
“Trust me.”
He pulls his jeans back on. You pick up his t-shirt and hoodie and throw them at him.
The frost on the grass is making your jeans and your jocks damp and your shoes wet. There is a breeze blowing. You shiver. You grab the waistband of your jeans and jocks and you pull them up together. None of it is fitting you exactly right, the material is sticking to you in odd places and is seemingly caught in other places. You don't care, suddenly all you want to do is to get out of there. You button your fly and pull your hoodie over your head.
The other guy waits, watching you.
“What’s your name?” you ask.
“Evan,” he says. “What’s yours?”
“Jack,” you say.
A group of boy’s yell something from the other side of the oval. You both freeze. Still, like gazelles in the cold hard gaze of the hunter. It's just the usual 4am drunk straight boy stuff. They are yelling at the night, not you guys, you see that. They can't see the semen dribbling out of your knob, and sticking to the cotton of your undies. They can’t see the semen dribbling out of Evans arse. What they'd do if they could, hey?
You grab Evan’s hand and walk quickly to the perimeter of the cleared grass, leading him to the safety of the trees. Across the clearing in the opposite direction to the latest intruders. Just in case, you never know.
You relax when you are out of the hard gaze of the open night. Your steps quicken though, as the cover of trees brings its own fear. Nobody can see you guys in the darkness of the shadows. You hurry to get out of the night. Evan’s hand feels good in yours.
“Do you have a car?”
“No,” Evan says.
“Bike?”
“No, I used public transport.”
The elms line the pathway in lines like sentinels. The pathways cross the grass crisscross. The park lights fall in pools intermittently. The more brightly lit street glows in the distance, up ahead, like a mirage, seemingly momentarily out of reach. You quicken your pace to make the unreachable reachable. The two of you just fall in sync without discussion.
The street is deserted except for streetlights standing along the road, the light, golden fluid, sweeping out from each pole like a full skirt. You look right, a delivery truck turns off the main road, you look left, a cat runs across the road and disappears. You head down the street.
You might pray to god if you were religious, but you are not, so you don’t. No point making promises to someone else’s mythology, or one someone taught you as a kid in which you no longer believed.
You both climb into your car. The two doors close simultaneously. The light blinks out.
“That was fun,” says Evan.
“How drunk are you?”
“Yeah, pretty drunk,” says Evan.
You drive to your place. There is a park right out the front.
“Come on,” you say.
Evan follows you inside the house.
“Nice house,” says Evan.
“Thanks.”
“You live here alone.”
“Yes.”
“It’s pretty big for one person.”
“I guess,” you say.
You lead Evan into the bathroom. You start the shower. You get the water right. You pull off your clothes.
You get under the water and soap up quickly.
Evan just stands there watching you, you grab him and pull his hoodie and t-shirt off forcefully.
“Okay. Okay,” says Evan. But he still does nothing.
You lift his feet and pull his shoe off. You lift his other feet and pull his shoe off. You grab the waistband of his jeans and the buttons unpop one by one.
You lift him up and throw him over your left shoulder. “Oh, wow,” says Evan.
You pull his jeans off with your right hand. “Hey, yes please, I like this,” his voice says somewhere behind you. You grab a handful of his arse and pull his jocks down over the backs of his thighs. His hardening cock pushes into you.
You drop him back down on his feet under the shower water. It floods down over his head. He smiles through the gush of water.
You think he is handsome.
It felt good to be manhandling him. He is just the right size for you to throw him around. His toned body feels good sliding across your bare skin.
You like the intimate action. He’s slippery, it is sexy.
Evan is hard again.
You spin him around and grab the back of his neck and hold his head under the water. “Oh, yes please,” he gurgles.
You get the shampoo bottle, you squeeze it into your right hand. Evan stands still, compliantly, with the water falling over him.
You massage your soapy hand into his thick hair. Your pushed both hands through his hair. He has great, thick hair. It feels nice, his trust in your hands.
“Oh yes,” Evan says.
You spin him around and kiss him passionately. He kisses back. He smiles at you like he really means it.
You soap his chest, his stomach, his softening cock, balls. “I am loving this,” slurs Evan in your ear. His skin is smooth.
You spin him around and wash his back and his arse. He just naturally stands on his tiptoes and spreads his cheeks.
“You pass the interview, you have the job,” says Evan.
You laugh. You slap his arse.
“And again,” he says.
You switch off the water and push him out of the shower. You throw a towel at him. You think he is adorable.
“Come on, time to dry off,” you say.
You both towel dry yourselves together. “There’s are great towels,” says Evan.
“You have got to have a course towel,” you say. “It is the only way to dry yourself.”
It is getting late. You are feeling tired.
“What now?” asks Evan.
You pick him up and throw him over your shoulder. “Oh god, where have you been all my life,” he says.
You carry him to the bedroom. You toss him on the bed. You roll him onto his side and crawl in behind him, pull the doona over you and wrap him in your arms.
“Okay, sleep," you say.
“Okay,” says Evan.
There is silence, and stillness for the first time for hours.
“I really like you,” says Evan. “I hope this is real.”
“It is real today,” you say. You like him too. You wonder how you can keep him. This wife of his could be a problem, you think. You chuckle to yourself, as you rub your nose gently into his hair smelling him. Chicks don’t usually like it when you screw their husbands, you think.
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