Tag: UK Naked Men


One of Those Days (2)

Part (2)

It really is one of those days. I mean all the thinking about the wasted weekend, about Tyler, naturally made me late. Even the damn coffee was cold, but I drank it anyway. Habit, and you know, I really need to change my habits. From expecting too much from my friends, to having to worry about work, and whether or not I am five minutes late to my early start.

Trent Stokes from Bel AmiLike shit, not as if I have to be in at that time, it is just me sucking up, trying to show how invaluable I am to the powers that be, as if they notice. Told you, it is a Monday, and I do tend to get rather bitchy, when in one of my patented moods. Maybe that is one reason why my friends chose not to celebrate or remember my birthdays, even if it is the big Four Oh.

Like fuck, I even had to change my tie twice, not once, but twice, simply because my mind kept wandering, kept thinking of guys like Tyler. I am obsessive I suppose, but not in a bad way. I mean, it isn’t like I phone him up in the middle of the night, or in the middle of a jack off session, to get off on his voice.

I don’t go around following him like a love sick puppy either, or some queer stalker. Don’t think about dragging him home, without his permission, so what the fuck, what is so wrong about thinking of a guy? Well, it does tend to make a guy cranky, because Tyler is definitely a sexy guy, but unobtainable. And yeah I know, if you don’t ask, you don’t get, but you try to asking a guy, out of the blue, if he wants you to suck his dick off.

Course, I have done some weird stuff before, but come on, getting past one’s own fears, inhibitions, isn’t as easy as all those porn mags make it out to be. Like reading In Touch or watching a video, you don’t just look at the guy across the bar, then suddenly in a room stripping and sucking his dick. You aren’t magically transported to a place, where you are on your knees, surrounded by huge pulsating dicks, all oozing pre cum.

And you wonder why this is one of those days? Fuck, talk about being obsessed, and not like it got any easier at work. I mean the one benefit or perk I do enjoy, is having my mail delivered to my office. No little cubbyhole slot for me, and whoever hires the mail gophers, has an eye for guys.

The other great perk, is my office has glass walls, with a real blind system, so I can have my privacy when I want, and look out, when I want, like when its mail delivery time. Man, to see some of those young men, hustling around with big packages, small envelopes, as they rush around to the various offices, to the main mail boxes.

Like it is a big office, takes up the entire damn floor, with individual offices all along the outside walls, the inside with nothing but cubicles. Rather boring, though impressive, at how they can get so many people jammed into even a space that huge.

Dead center of it all, is a big array of slots. It is the message hub, and where all mail gets laid. It is where all the messengers drop off messages, reports, and other paper crap, that really never means much. After all, everything is on computers, yet the company insists on a paper trail.

So each person, sitting at their desk, their old fashioned computer, has to print out their reports, have one of the mail slash messenger guys grab it and through into someone else’s slot, for filing.

Not like I care, other than it is fun to sit back at my desk, twirl around and look out, to see where I used to be, to realize that even at my ripe old age, I have done not too badly. Then too, those scurrying young men, all different, all in a hurry, but all in nice white short sleeved shirts, tight black dress pants that hug the butt, does make one forget about work, and yes, even about Tyler.

So where am I going with all this? Hell, like I told you, it is one of those days. I get to work, eventually, and first thing I notice, is a pile of stupid reports on my desk, from overnight. I mean, you would think no one works weekends, or nights, and yet, no matter how early you get in, there are always stacks of shit, waiting for you to plod through. You would think there is some paper gremlin at work, because it makes no difference, what time I get to work, the pile is always there.

Pisses me off, because I wonder who delivered it, how cute were they, or better yet, were they family? Would they be worth a few moments more examination, for thinking about later? No, that doesn’t make me a pervert, because no one works in the building, who is under twenty one.

Why? Simple, it has something to do with some stupid security requirement, which makes no sense to me, but I gave up trying to make sense out of some of the rules. Messengers seem to always be around, and some of us, on the outer ring, are even assigned our own little team of gophers.

Now, you would think that would lead to some fun, but boy, goes to show you. Maybe some of the more senior guys get to diddle the messengers, but after the first meeting, you just know, you aren’t that senior. I mean, how obvious can a guy make it, when his first words to you are: “I am your messenger, I’ll get you coffee, deliver the stuff you want, but I don’t put out for guys at your pay scale.”

Like, what, they get hit on, that often? I mean if you look around the office, the one’s in the offices, 9 out of 10 are guys, so what, I am surrounded by family, and can’t even tell? I don’t think so, and no, I am not what you call the standard stereotyped gay guy either. I don’t swish, don’t talk in a high pitch voice, or any of that bullshit, so after that introduction to the messengers, I have let well enough alone.

Not that I wouldn’t mind sampling some of the beef, but damn, playing that close at work, stupid just isn’t my middle name. Yet I sure as hell wouldn’t mind, least with Sam. Though I have to admit, he’s not really my type. He’s more like Hank’s type, in that he’s young, hot, skinny, and definitely seems to have a nice package. That would be fun to explore, but not as long as he is working here, or I am.

Funny isn’t it, how on those days when everything seems a nightmare, or rushed, you keep on daydreaming? Like I can’t get Dillon out of my head, soon as I walked into the elevator to whisk me up to the 45th floor, and my office.

I should have invited him to join me for a few drinks this last weekend. He would have shown up, bet he’d have brought me a card too. He’s that type, until you get him into the bedroom, then look out. I mean this guy is a tiger, and damn, he is so forceful.

Just love how he takes charge, the instant you walk past the door threshold. I mean, honestly you can be out in the living room talking, laughing, and he is so polite, until your feet are past that line. Then he becomes a dominant figure, who just commands your attention.

Last time I barely managed to survive, the way he took me, did all those lovely things, that memories are made up of. Now I wonder, why don’t I think more of him, than say Tyler? Is it simply because I have had sex with him, or is it because, well, he scares me a bit. Not that I am a totally wusse or anything, just that when he wants sex, he wants it all. None of that romantic shit for him.

Maybe he figures the sweet routine before entering the bed chamber is enough, because I swear, if he could, he’d rip the damn clothes off a guy, just because he can. Now Dillon isn’t exactly what you call a Muscle Man. I mean yes, he’s got some good definition to him, though in honesty, he does have more than an inch you can pinch, unlike Tyler.

Still, he does dress impressively. He wears those tight fitting shirts, but not the fancy kind with little alligators on the pocket. They aren’t designer label stuff, but they make his body look tighter, than maybe it really is. Course, when you find that out, he’s naked, and you are usually huffing for air, as his cock is stuffed down your throat.

He is that quick, and that forceful. Besides who gives a shit, when you got his dick in your mouth? I mean that man scent just permeates your nostrils, works its way deep down into your thoughts, and your head even swoons a bit. It is that powerful, just like the man himself.

I suppose the porn sites would call him a bear, but I don’t know. He has fine tufts of hair all down his massive legs, and along his arms, but his chest, is rather sparse. He doesn’t wear a beard or anything, and you can tell he shaves more than once a day. He isn’t bald either, has a rather nice wavy look to his brown hair.

The eyebrows aren’t thick and no, they aren’t uni-brows either. His face has a few blemishes, the nose is crooked from his days as a kid. If you ask him, he’ll tell you that he was always getting into fights with other kids, but he won’t say why. Though my guess is that even then, he didn’t mince words about being gay, or what he wanted.

Might work in a gay bar, but sure as hell not in a schoolyard. Not then, not now, but still, you have to admire the guy. He isn’t afraid to speak his mind, say what he wants, and if he thinks you are willing, he’ll take it too. I mean, maybe that is why only on these days, do I really dwell on Dillon.

Like the last time, the way he just managed to have me on my knees. I mean, I like sucking dick, enjoy the feel and taste of a hot throbbing cock in my mouth, and even the taste of the pre cum, but damn, he had me down there before I even realized it. None of that easy going sucking either.

Dillon likes to ram that dick in, and while it isn’t what I’d call monster size, it is thicker than most. How he can make my jaw ache, is rather scary, but damn, I do enjoy it at the time. I love how he rams it down the throat, how his hands take hold of my hair, and twirl the strands around his fingers. Then how he holds my head, tilting it back so his cock can have an easier access to my throat, and so I don’t choke to death either.

He does force it, and he doesn’t let a guy catch his breath, as he just keeps ramming it in and out. Seems like he ignores the gagging sounds and even the occasional retching noises one makes, when their mouth is stuffed with a hot throbbing cock.

Then just when you are getting used to it, to the hard pounding, the brush of his wiry pubic hairs against your nostrils, he’s out, and slapping a condom on. He’s got one hand twisting you around, and somehow you are leaning over the bed, your legs being spread apart by his. Amazing really, how he can do all that, and you not even notice it.

Hell, you are too busy looking over your shoulder, wondering just how much it is going to hurt, as he rams his tool in. And he does ram it in, too. Nothing slow and gentle about Dillon, about how just sort of walks up, slaps your ass real hard, then you feel his fingers poking at your insides. He never uses just one either, but three of them.

He wedges them between your cheeks, and runs them up and down your valley, as if to make sure just where that tiny pink hole is. Doesn’t matter if its his umpteenth time fucking you, he slides those fingers between and then, when they find your hole, he just seems to pause for a mere instant, before you are grunting as they are somehow deep inside of you.

Dillon likes to twist them as they go in, and he spreads them out too, which only makes you wince a bit more than usual, as he keeps on flexing them, shoving them in as far as that tiny little hole will let. If he could get his whole fist in, I am sure he would, and I know he’d like to try, but being fisted, well, isn’t my thing. Least I don’t think so, but hell, maybe one day, I just might. After all, I am forty now, and why shouldn’t I try some new things?

Hank would be shocked, bet he’d go pasty white, before bending over to have Dillon fist him. I just might enjoy seeing that, but not until I’ve had my own taste of Dillon’s fist inside. Mind you, if he fists like he fucks, I’d have to make sure we did it on a Friday, because somehow, I think I’d not have much control over that pink hole for a few days.

Never do, after he fucks me, so his fist would have the same results, I think. I don’t care for pain, yet when he takes those fingers out, and wedges that hot cock between my cheeks, I can’t wait for the pain of his hard penetration. I mean it is hard, and damn I do scream. Had a neighbour bitch about it once, but fuck him, it was one of the best fucks I have ever had.

Just before I feel his balls slapping my ass, his dick has found that spot, has burst through and the pain is gone, replaced by the most pleasure a guy could ever stand. I kid you not, he slices into my tight hole, and before I have finished screaming my pain, I am moaning in absolute rapture. How the fuck he does it, is beyond me, because for the next ten or so minutes, I am off in heaven.

No shit, the guy takes a good ten minutes, before he’s ready to shoot, and while that might scare some, it sure as hell makes me totally satisfied, afterwards. That first time, well, it was hard, to keep my mind on all that was happening, even now it still feels as good. The way he can work that pole, when it’s so deep inside, how he can make it twist, is amazing.

Frankly, I swear he can make it grow thicker, or thinner, at will. I know, it’s my imagination, or at least that is what I tell myself, but fuck, it sure feels real. How one minute it is like my whole insides are going to burst, from being so stretched by his blood gorged cock, then suddenly it feels like you could put a couple of more dicks inside, with his.

Dillon isn’t quiet either. He is always talking , while ramming his cock in and out. It feels like being a slab of concrete, being jack hammered. Damn it is hard, yet each thrust seems to not just ram me into the bed, but it always seems to hit that spot, that just, well makes me go nuts. I never moan much, unless it’s Dillon fucking my ass. God, he is amazing, yet I don’t know, it is Tyler I fantasize about.

Thing with Dillon, is he is so damn powerful, when he’s fucking. At first I figured he was taking something, even had the nerve to ask him, but he says no. I believe him, because he’s not the type to bullshit, it is just that he likes his sex, likes to enjoy it fully, and that usually means, for me, that I have one fucking sore hole for a few days.

Don’t mind either, because every time I have to run to the can, I remember that feeling, when he hits my special zone. I can sit on the John all day, remembering those moments, which is weird. Don’t think I am some sex pig, I just know that afterwards, I can’t get him out of my mind, or on days like this, when everything just feels like it’s all gone to shit.

I guess too, I just don’t think I could handle Dillon 24/7 or even just on the weekends. I mean the sex is super, even when he’s about to shoot, how he makes that sort of animal cry, then how suddenly my ass is empty, as he pulls his dick out, rips the condom off, and suddenly I can feel the spray whizzing past my back, until it strikes me hard up by the neck.

Have to say, Dillon can cum. I mean he literally coats my entire back with his hot jizz. I rather like it, enjoy the feel of it as it splatters against my taut muscles. How hot it feels, almost like being burned, yet when it cools, it still feels thrilling. I never shower right away, but always wait to the very last minute, long after he’s gone.

And too, the way he just collapses on top of me, after he’s shot his cum all over my back. The press of his entire body weight, crushing and grinding his cum into my skin, feels so, well, perfect. Like it’s a great ending to a wild sex ride. Mind you, that rarely is the end of it, because Dillon is quick to be ready for more. Not like it takes him more than a half hour of puffing, and relaxing on top of my prone body, before once more he’s whipping a fresh condom out of the package, and sliding his cock up and down, between my quivering butt cheeks.

I never can make up my mind, which I like better. The first fuck, or the second one. Both are hard, but different. I mean the first one is quick, in how he enters me, but the second one, he takes his time in penetrating me. It hurts a lot more too, but by this time, I am not leaning over the bed, but stretched out full length on it, with Dillon on top. I like that, and then too, he does seem to make the pain of penetration, special.

It is like a gift, the way he can just take his time at working his thickened cock head between my protesting pink hole. Not to mention my begging for him to take me, but he manages to ignore it all, to go at his own speed. He doesn’t rush this one, as he moves the cock around, so it seems to be an eternity before he pops through.

The pain is instantly gone, as his head just sits inside, my hole totally stretched. God how good it feels, as I can feel my insides wrapping around his head, trying to hold it, though there isn’t a hope in hell of me doing that. Even my cries begging him to fuck me hard, go unanswered for what seems forever.

Then, once he starts, I am begging for him to end it, even though he’s hitting my special zone, with each thrust. Sometimes, he’ll hit it, and just sort of, stick around. He’ll prod me with his cock, pushing and twisting, around that spot, until I am biting my lower lip, from the pure pleasure his actions are bringing me. Those are some very special moments, and I let him know it, not like it seems to matter to him. Least not at the time.

Still, I wonder, if I was to just, well let him know I’d be willing to do more with him, what he’d do? Would he go all S&M on me, or would he just find new ways to stretch my poor hole? Kind of be fun to explore that idea.

Problem with that kind of thinking, is I doubt if my poor body could handle Dillon, unrestricted. I mean he is hard enough to just take what he dishes out.

It is bizarre to be thinking about him, especially on a day like this, but then again, surrendering to him, like I do, well, it might just take away the feelings of these kind of days. Maybe this weekend, instead of the same old, I should give him a call, and really celebrate my birthday.

Okay so it’d be more than a week late, but hell, the good things in life are worth waiting for, and he definitely is one of those good things. And who knows, maybe I’ll get over my nervousness, and let him loose on me. After all, I am forty now, and it’s time to live, isn’t it?

You have been reading:

One of Those Days

Part (2)

By Ian Kovnats (Gaystoryman)

Copyright © 2009 ? All Rights Reserved

Category ¦ Mature

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Plain Brown Wrapper (1)

Plain Brown Wrapper

By Ian Kovnats (Gaystoryman)

Copyright © 2008 ? All Rights Reserved

Part (1)

Barney wheeled his mail truck into the spot at the top of the block, just as he had for the last ten or so years. Every morning, his Government Mail delivery truck would pull in, even when the snow had been falling all night long. He was proud, that he had missed a total of 3 days during his tenure as a mailman.

Not like some of the new kids these days. He grimaced a bit, making his fat face wrinkle a bit, his eyes glow a bit menacing, as he thought about how things had changed, yet hadn’t.

He was about to have his forty first birthday next month, and celebrate nearly 20 years in the Postal Service a few months later, and he still loved his job. Not like the new kids, who only thought about perks, about getting the routes done so they could down a few extra beers. Not that he objected to having a few brews himself. Barney just didn’t think he had to rush, or cut corners. A bit old fashioned perhaps, but then he was nearly forty one.

Now some wouldn’t think he was a mailman, as he had a bit of a paunch, and his hair was a bit shaggy too, not your typical civil servant look. If he thought about it, he wasn’t in bad physical shape, just not one of those sculpted bodies, or bulging six packs or flat tummies. Besides, he liked to have his fun, his beer and those yummy greasy cheeseburgers down at May’s Diner.

Then there were the treats from his customers. He knew virtually every single one on the routes he did. Least his regular routes. There was old lady Gray, who always had a hot cup of cocoa for him on the rainy or snowy days. Then there was Mrs Cleary, she was always baking stuff, and had an extra piece for him. No wonder he had a bit of a paunch. It was also what the new kids missed out on. That and the Christmas gifts.

Hefting his mailbag over his shoulder, he realized that there were maybe a dozen or so on his route who never gave him a card, or even did more than nod at him. Yet that wasn’t bad, considering his regular routes totalled about 300 or so homes. Let some of those new kids match that one, he thought as he started his trek to deliver the morning’s mail.

There was old man Singleton, already out working in his garden, getting it ready for the hot summer months. He was a real garden nut, and read a lot too, and not just gardening magazines. Was kind of funny to see what some people read, and then when you looked at them, you’d never figure them for having that kind of interest.

In so many ways, it was like they were all part of some weird extended family. When the Mullins had that problem with baby Jessica, he would always spend time just talking about the weather, to keep Mrs Mullins from thinking of it all. Even when Mister Jakes had suddenly passed away, he had attended the funeral, and had been surprised at how many on his route were there too.

It was like that. Just as how each morning he enjoyed his regular visitors, like Christopher who was heading off to College this fall. Eighteen already, and Barney had watched him grow up from a gawky kid of eight to a rather handsome young man. He smiled because Christopher was always outside, waiting for him.

Barney had watched him grow up, had enjoyed their morning chats about all sorts of things. Christopher had quite an inquisitive mind, talking about the stars, about life, and even about God. It was like he was starved for different thoughts on a whole range of subjects, from what made a great burger, to the latest hit song being played.

Though lately, Christopher; Chris to his friends, which Barney was, had been rather quiet. His face didn’t light up as it used to, and he seemed rather sullen. He wanted to ask him, but so far hadn’t. It bothered him, because to Barney, these were his family. Not like he had one of his own, but he kept telling himself that he wasn’t the ‘family type’ or something like that.

Some of the guys at the sorting house looked at him weird for it, but screw them. It wasn’t like they were the best walking advertisement for marriage or having a family. Man how some of them boasted about their side affairs, or how they got thrilled catching a beauty answering the door in their see through night dress. And these were so called happily married men?

That was part of his problem, but not all of it. He simply didn’t find himself attracted to women, and he had long since lost his virginity but sex was never something that was a huge mission. Oh sure, back in the day he screwed around like any other kid. At college he went on many a panty raid with his dorm buddies. He had his share of one night stands as well, some of them not what most might expect.

College had been an experience. It had been where he had his first guy to guy sex, where he had his first scare too, that he might have gotten a girl pregnant. It was college, but since, well he just enjoyed delivering the mail, talking with the people on the route, sharing their lives. It made him happy, so what if every night wasn’t filled with mindless sex, or having to deal with kids running around under foot? Least he didn’t have to worry about college tuition like the Jansen’s were for Chris.

Maybe that is what had him so down in the dumps? Could be that his folks were finding it tough to scratch up the college fees? It would be a shame, because if anyone needed to go to college, to experience it, it was Chris. He really needed to get out, to meet new people from new cultures, and experience life in a whole different way.

Turning the corner, to head down the block he was surprised to suddenly see Chris waiting by the mailbox. It was where he collected the mail for this part of the route, not where he normally would find Chris. As he quickened his step, he noticed that Chris was just leaning against the box, his face looking down.

Stopping for a minute, he felt a sort of apprehension, as if something terrible was about to happen, yet he didn’t know what it could be. It bothered Barney as he shifted the mailbag on his shoulder, and called out, waving his free hand.

Chris looked up and stared for a minute, almost as if he didn’t recognize Barney, then gave a half hearted wave, as he just stood there, waiting. It made Barney shiver a bit, as he had never seen Chris looking so down before. This was a kid who always was smiling, always had a grin plastered over his face. Even that time when he had first begun to learn how to ride a two wheeler.

His skinny little knee was oozing blood, and the bike had been laying on the grass, the front a bit twisted, from having hit something. Yet Chris wasn’t crying, just smiling as he looked at his bloody knee. Nothing really seemed to phase him, until now.

Hey Sport, you get lost?

Chris gave him a sort of weak grin, and then just looked down at his feet, mumbling a greeting. He was kicking at the dirt around the box, and off to one side, Barney noted he had his backpack, and another bag. It didn’t look right, as both seemed overly stuffed.

Dropping his own bag to the ground, Barney took his keys out, to open up the box, to find the bundled letters and smaller packets for the next stage of his route. He could see a sort of puffiness around Chris’s eyes, as if he had been crying. That was strange, because in all his time knowing the younger man, he had never seen him cry.

You look like the world just ended Sport, what’s up?


Yeah right, come on Chris, what’s up? The way you got those bags stuffed, almost makes it look like you running away from home.

He had said in jest, trying to lighten the mood, to get Chris to open up. There was no mistaking that something was bothering him, and Barney believed that talking about things, helped. He stood there, looking until Chris finally raised his face and looked at Barney.

Guess you could say that’s true.

Whoa there, what are you talking about Chris? College isn’t until the fall, this is just the beginning of July.

Yeah, well no college in the fall, nothing. I just, I just wanted to say goodbye, see if there was anything for me, one last time.

Barney couldn’t help but feel a small pang in his heart. The way Chris was talking, how low and dejected sounding his voice was. It wasn’t Chris, that was for sure. He always was so full of life, so happy go lucky, that Barney had come to look forward to meeting him on the route. Hell, he had been feeling sad himself, thinking of Chris being off at College. It was the part of his job that hurt, when the kids moved on, or the regulars moved away or just, well died. He missed them all, but none as much as he would when Chris left.

Now he was leaving early, but not to college? Barney could see how hurt Chris looked, how vulnerable he was looking. Chris wasn’t what you would call an Adonis or anything, but he had nice features. Was on the lean side too, but then he was always outside, always running even if it was to Kwon’s corner store, just down the block from his home.

Uh, I’ll check, uh, you want to talk about it?

He felt his heart skip a beat, as Chris looked up at him. How his eyes were brimming with tears, as he stared up at him, looking past him in one way, right through him in another sense. It was like he did want to, but something was holding him back.

Thanks, but I uh, I don’t know Barney, it is just so hard, and well, I don’t want you to hate me.

Hate you? Come on Sport, how can I hate my favourite buddy on the whole blasted route? You know you can tell me anything.

Not this, I can’t.

As he rummaged through the bundles he wondered, what it was that had Chris so certain that he wouldn’t understand? Did he get some girl pregnant? But then, no it couldn’t be that, as after all he was the one who delivered all those brown wrapped magazines each month, and while they were addressed to just a ‘Mr Jansen’, he knew they were for Chris.

It didn’t matter to him, never really thought about it, as he found that there was one of those magazines in the bundle. That had to be it, somehow Chris’ secret had come out, one he had known for a long time. But why did Chris not trust him, or think he wouldn’t understand?

Turning around, with the magazine in hand, he saw how Chris was looking at it. Christ, what a mess it must be, to feel so alone, so cut off from people. He had his own past, and okay, so he never broadcast it, nor did he even go out of his way to find it, he couldn’t help but feel closer to Chris.

Heck the first time when the brown wrapped magazines started showing up, he had an idea they weren’t playboy type magazines. Then he got used to seeing the names of who they were from, and he knew that they weren’t naked women in the centerfolds.

Here, just your AllBoy today.

Chris had been just reaching out for it, when his hand stopped, his head snapped back to stare up into Barney’s face. The eyes were wide open, in terror, as his whole body began to tremble. The arm was shaking, and his fingers were twitching as he realized that Barney knew. You could see it in his face, as he stood there, uncertain what to do.

Look Sport, it’s no big deal to me, so tell me, what happened? Your folks find out or something?


They kick you out?


That’s rough, you got anywhere to go? Friends, boyfriend maybe?

Chris just stared at Barney. There were tears beginning to roll down his face, as he shook his head in the negative, afraid to even speak. His lower lip was trembling, and Barney felt like he just wanted to reach out and gather the trembling young man into his arms.

Barney had seen a lot of cruel things in his time. How that Mr. Withers had beat his wife, while she kept refusing to press charges, or how poor little Monica had made her way everyday to school, on braces because of some bone disease. He had seen it all, but never parents turning their back on their kids. That was just something he read about, saw on television but never experienced.

Looking at Chris, he couldn’t help but feel sorry for him, outraged too, but there wasn’t much he could do. It wasn’t his place to go crusading and knocking on their door. Maybe in time, they’d come around, but then what? Would they even be able to find Chris? And what about him, where was he going to go? The streets were no place for a sheltered kid like him.

You sure there is no one you can go to? Even for a few days?

No, no one.


No, when I left, my Mother, she was already calling everyone, to warn them. No, there is no one.

Not even a school friend?

Yeah, like they’d let me crash. No, it’s okay, I got the addresses of a few shelters, that should do for now.

It just didn’t seem right. Barney felt like he was in a daze, and yet inside, he knew what would happen. Sure, the shelter might do for tonight, then again, it would lead to a lot more. As sensible as Chris was, he was still just eighteen, and not really street smart. He was the perfect target for some of the scum out there, and Barney knew he couldn’t let him get swallowed up that way. He liked him, only now realizing how much he did care.

Look, you got any money?

Huh? Yeah about a hundred bucks.’

On you?


Won’t last if you go to a shelter, what about a bank account, you got one?


He almost smiled at how Chris had acknowledged he had a bank account. One thing about Chris, he did like to show his independence. Yet as he answered, Barney could see his mind whirling, realizing how fragile things were going to be for him. There was no mistaking the fear in Chris’ eyes.

Look, I gotta get the route done, tell you what Sport, grab your stuff, and meet me at the truck, you know where I park it.

Yeah, but Barney, I’ll be okay, really.

You are a smart kid Chris, but not when it comes to being on your own, look, just meet me at the truck, we can go grab a burger or something, talk a bit, maybe figure out something a bit better than going to a shelter.

Okay, I guess, you sure Barney? I don’t uh, I can manage.

Course you can, don’t doubt that for a second, but hey, friends can help make it a bit easier, if you let them. Talking it out won’t hurt, and besides, I can give you a lift to town, if that’s what you decide.

I don’t know Barney, seems like a lot of bother for you.

We are friends, aren’t we Sport?

Well sure we are, I mean…

So its no bother, okay? You just hump those bags to the truck, I’ll be about an hour or so, okay?

If you say, yeah, okay, thanks Barney’

He just smiled as he lifted his mailbag up and over his shoulder. Giving Chris a small pat on the shoulder, he could feel him shaking, still trembling but he could tell, he was feeling a bit relieved. Funny thing, he thought, about how sharing a problem made it seem less of a burden, less ominous.

Walking away, he turned to see Chris picking up his bag and pack, and moving off in the general direction of where he had parked the mail truck. He felt strange, a bit sad, and yet also a strange sense of pleasure. Maybe it was because he wasn’t walking away from a friend in need, or maybe it was something more? He wasn’t too sure, but he felt this need to hurry along.

His hefty mailbag didn’t feel so heavy as he made his rounds, still taking the time to chat to the people he met, still taking the time to exchange banalities and pleasantries. Yet at the same time, he felt a growing excitement, which didn’t quite make sense.

Barney couldn’t help but think of how scared Chris must be feeling, at how lonely had to feel. In all honesty, the few times he had crossed over, in his own college years, he had felt nervous too, scared even. Yet it hadn’t seemed a big deal 20 years ago, as it was today. That didn’t make much sense, but he understood it.

He never thought of himself that way either, and yet while he liked sex, it wasn’t something he went out of his way to have. That alone made him different, he guessed, as he continued to deliver the mail. Could be that for him, he enjoyed other interests, even as a kid he never really had been the hormone crazed teenager that his friends were.

Could he be one of those sexless types? The ones who simply didn’t do it, for some lack of interest? After all, he was about to be 41 years old, and to be honest, his sexual activity was more like some ninety year old. Now that wasn’t exactly natural, but then too, supposedly it was related to his being Diabetic.

Maybe if he had a partner, someone who he had gotten close to, or was close to, it would be different? He wasn’t sure, but as that didn’t exist, well, he had his extended family to worry about. That did give him pleasure, like when he had found that seed packet for Mr. Singleton. How happy he had been, and how it had made him happy to see. Those were what was important, not how often you got off with someone.

Okay, he did enjoy jerking off too, but it wasn’t like he did that every single night. And he didn’t have what you would call a porn collection either. Sure he had a few DVDs, mostly straight stuff, but he did have a couple from that European studio, Bel Ami. Magazines weren’t his thing either, but there were maybe a dozen or so kicking around from the years.

AllBoy was one, which he had a couple of, which is also how he knew what was in those plain brown wrappers he delivered to Chris. That gave him a bit of a pause, thinking that the poor kid, having to hide his sexuality, yet needing to have some form of contact with what he liked. It had to be tough, but it also maybe explained why he was always outside, with his backpack. He was waiting for the magazines, and making sure no one at home could find them. Crafty little guy, but then he always knew Chris was smart. Still, what could he do for him? He just couldn’t let him go to a shelter, and even if he did find him a place, or such, what about tomorrow, and the next and the next?

As his boots hit the ground, taking another step along the well worn path of his route, he knew he just couldn’t abandon Chris. It wasn’t that he had any reason to be so interested in him, just that, he felt like he had to. No one else seemed willing, or available to help, and well, he owed Chris. He had made his route enjoyable, in ways the other’s hadn’t.

He liked seeing his fresh face, seeing those laughing eyes each morning. It was something to watch him growing up, right in front of him. That alone was worth something, given how empty his own life was. First time he admitted that, as he plodded along the walk, towards the next house.

There was something about Chris, even as a kid, that had made him feel, well protective of him. It wasn’t anything sexual, that he was certain of, but it was something close to that. Almost like he was the Father, instead of Mr. Jansen. Though the few times he had met Chris’ dad, he hadn’t been impressed with him. He was too rigid, to unbending and the way he always walked towards the car, as if he had a two by four up his ass. It had always made him feel nervous, watching him leave for his work, not to mention glad that he didn’t have him as a supervisor.

There was just something nasty about him, something icky, as the kids might say. Still, he was Chris’ dad and that also surprised him. How full of life Chris was, compared to the dour expression his father always wore on his face. His mother wasn’t much better, a rather plain looking woman who was always wringing her hands, as if agitated. She wasn’t exactly what you would call sociable either.

Thinking about her, he wondered how she and her husband could have raised such a happy go lucky kid as Christopher. Then too, he also realized that he had never seen her fussed, or mussed. Every time she came out, to gather the mail from Chris, her hair was done, her clothes looking freshly pressed and cleaned. Never a spot on them, and that was odd. Not once did he recall ever seeing her in slippers, or with a hair out of place.

As he approached the end of the route, almost time to arrive at the truck, he wondered if Chris would be there. Did he stay or did he take off? In an odd sense, it mattered to him, that when he got back to the truck, that Chris would be there.

While doing the rest of the route, he had come to realize that he was fond of Chris, though he wasn’t sure in what way, other than as a friend. Least he wasn’t about to admit that he had other thoughts, or fantasies about him. He genuinely liked him, enjoyed the conversations they had, and okay, the guy was what he would call good looking. Yet, was that a sexual attraction? He didn’t think so, though it was in the back of his mind, all the time he was stuffing the mail into the boxes or handing them to the home owner.

Was he trying to seduce him, or create a situation for making a play for Chris?

That thought rather made him miss a step or two, because in all honesty, he did fancy the guy. In fact, Chris was one of the few guys that made him even think about sex. Not many women even fell into that category, least these days. At college, well that was different, or was it? Was his college preferences out of peer pressure, or because he was into girls?

The heavy thinking was making him feel his age, as he turned the corner. There was his truck across the street, looking just as he had left it. Yet his heart sank, as there was no Chris, that he could see. He felt a strange emptiness inside, feeling like he had been cheated out of something, but he didn’t know what. It didn’t make sense, as he slowly made his way across the street.

It was like a huge disappointment, that was weighing on him, as he made his way, street side, towards the back, to toss in his empty mailbag. As he rounded the back of the truck, and fumbled with his keys, he heard someone move, and from the house side, there came Chris.

Barney felt his heart kick its beat up a notch or two, as he saw that Chris had waited for him, as he said he would. He felt strangely pleased by it, as he grinned at the young man. It was as if the sun had suddenly come out from behind a dark cloud, even though Chris wasn’t looking all that much happier. Still he did look more relaxed, and as he smiled, Barney notice he still was holding the plain brown wrapped magazine.

Sorry it took longer than I expected.

No problem, uh, you really don’t have to do this Barney, I’ll be okay.

Thought we settled this Sport?

Just making sure.

Okay, climb in. Hungry? I know it’s a bit early yet, but how about a burger at May’s Diner?

Sure, I am not all that hungry though.

Well, you can have what you want, when we get there. But you haven’t had a burger, till you have enjoyed one of May’s super deluxe double bacon, double cheese, monster burgers.

If you say so.

I say so, come on climb in.

As Chris climbed up into the truck, Barney couldn’t help but check him out. It wasn’t something he normally did, yet he felt a bit of a thrill doing it. Maybe he did have a sex drive, and for guys? It made him a bit nervous, wondering if maybe he was treading on thin ice. Yet he didn’t stop, as he started the truck up, looking out the side, for oncoming traffic.



How did you know what was in the brown paper?

Finding this little blond treasure at UK Naked Men was a surprise, and a thrill actually. He has that look, that just makes one think of Christopher in this story.


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