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Magic Fingers [MultiFormat]
eBook by Etienne

eBook Category: Erotica/Gay-Lesbian Erotica/Romance
eBook Description: An Avondale Story David Majors should be looking forward to a long and prosperous life: after tours in Iraq and Afghanistan, he's attending college courtesy of Uncle Sam and riding the fast track to success. He's tall, fit, and good-looking, so shouldn't the world be his oyster? But underneath his clothes--and beneath the surface--David is a mess of scar tissue and insecurity. Then he meets Kevin Boxer, another former Army Ranger. Their first night together, Kevin stares David's scars in the face and doesn't flinch, instead showering David with the passion and attention he craves but never imagined possible. Slowly but surely, Kevin helps David rebuild his confidence, and the two of them begin to build their life together. But their journey is far from over, and it turns out Kevin may need David to help him heal some scars of his own.

eBook Publisher: Dreamspinner Press/Dreamspinner Press, Published: 2011, 2011
Fictionwise Release Date: September 2011


10 Reader Ratings:
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Chapter One

I stepped out of the shower and began to towel myself dry, critically examining my image in the mirror as I did. For the most part I liked, and was satisfied with, what I saw: crew-cut brown hair, square-jawed sort of face, broad shoulders, great pecs, smooth and hairless torso, narrow waist, big balls, well-developed and rather hairy legs. As usual, I tried unsuccessfully to ignore the various flaws, such as the scars on my torso and legs--among other things.

The angel on my right shoulder whispered in my ear, "David, my boy, you're going to go out tonight and get laid.

"But it was a total disaster the last time, and the time before that, so why subject yourself to all that again?" the devil on my left shoulder argued. "You might as well give up.

"Because it's like falling off of a horse," the angel countered. "You've got to get right back on it again, and the sooner the better. There just has to be some guy out there who will accept you as you are... damaged goods and all."

"Right," the devil shot back. "Fat chance of that. How often has that happened in the last two years? You can count the number of encounters that actually ended with coupling on the fingers of one hand. One look at your naked body, and they head for the hills."

Still, "Hope springs eternal in the human breast," I thought.

Internalized debate over, I stepped up to the vanity and shaved. Then I applied deodorant under my arms and a splash of cologne to my neck before returning to my bedroom to dress. I selected a pair of well-worn 501s, pulled on a polo shirt, and slipped into loafers.

I lived in the Murray Hill section of Jacksonville, and it took me only twenty minutes or so to drive through the neighborhoods of Avondale and Riverside to reach the bar. As I pulled my aging Toyota into the parking lot of the bar, I saw that it was almost empty, which wasn't surprising, given the early hour.

Ah, well. The smaller the crowd, the less chance there is of rejection.

Entering the bar, I noticed that the bartender was leaning on the far side of the U-shaped bar that divided the room, his back to the door, apparently deep in conversation with the rather good-looking, and only, customer seated at the bar across from him. The customer stared at me and said something that caused the bartender to turn and look toward me.

What was that about?

Walking to the opposite end of the bar from the two men, I waited for the bartender to take my order. He served me without comment, and, beer in hand, I selected one of the many empty tables and sat down.

* * * *

It was seven o'clock on a Friday evening, and, freshly showered and shaved, I was looking forward to an evening out. I gave myself one last look in the mirror and thought, Kevin, you look like you're ready for anything. I'd eaten lunch a couple of hours later than usual and wasn't ready for dinner, so I decided to stop at my favorite gay bar for a beer.

Don't be misled by my use of the word "favorite." I don't particularly enjoy going to bars, and the one I selected was the least objectionable of those that were immediately available. On entering the bar, I quickly surveyed the room, which was almost empty, and selected a place at the bar that enabled me to see anyone who came through the door. Clancey, the bartender, brought me a beer without waiting for an order to be placed.

"Here ya go, Kevin," Clancey said, placing the brew in front of me.

"Thanks."

We were more than slightly acquainted and had, in fact, enjoyed a brief fling some months earlier, but like most flings, it hadn't lasted. I was keeping one eye on the door while we chatted, and I said, "Look at what just came in. Do you know him?"

Clancey turned to look in the direction of the door, and said, "No, but I'd like to."

The new arrival was very tall, good-looking, extremely well built, and carried himself with what I immediately recognized as a military bearing. He was dressed pretty much like myself--501s, knit shirt, and loafers without socks. To my dismay, the guy stopped at the far end of the bar, ordered a beer, and carried it to one of the tables on the other side of the room.

Clancey came back to where I was sitting, and said, "Like what you see?"

"You know I do."

"Why don't you do something about it?" he said.

"Such as?"

"Well, you can hardly offer him a second drink at this point. You could, however, ask him to dance. That's always a good icebreaker."

"What a good idea," I said. "Why didn't I think of that?"

"Sarcasm doesn't become you," he said. "You just told me you've been doing without for awhile--go get him."

I grabbed my beer and walked over to the jukebox, which was, at the moment, silent. I fed it some money and selected two slow numbers. As soon as the music began, I walked over to the guy's table, set my beer down on it across from him, held out a hand, and said, "Dance?"

"I'm not very good at it," the guy said. His voice was resonant, deep, and very sexy.

"I don't see any judges waiting to hold up numbered signs, do you?"

"True."

The guy took my proffered hand and allowed himself to be pulled from his chair and led to the tiny dance floor. As I held him close for the slow dance, I noted with pleasure that we were roughly the same height--at six-four, I seldom ran into suitable men who were my size. I also noted that my dance partner smelled good--whatever he was wearing was both masculine and appealing.

"I'm Kevin," I said. "Kevin Boxer."

"David Majors," he said. "Pleased to meet you."

"You ex-military?"

"Yeah," he said. "Rangers. Does it show?"

"Takes one to know one," I said. "Me too."

"Where?"

"Seventy-fifth Ranger Regiment, Iraq and Afghanistan," I said.

"Me too," he said. "I wonder why we don't know each other."

"Same regiment, different battalions would explain it, and we're working on it."

I pulled David closer, and we danced until the music stopped, waited a moment for the second number to begin, and danced until it was over. After that, we went back to David's table and sat with beers in hand. We talked for a while and played "Who do you know?", as do most current and ex-military types. It developed that we knew, and had served with, some of the same people at various times. The similarities in our lives were amazing--we'd both joined the army right out of high school, and we'd been through the same training programs, only I'd been one year ahead of David, and we were both going to college courtesy of Uncle Sam, albeit at different schools. David worked in a distribution center operated by Winn-Dixie, and I worked for one operated by Publix, both jobs having been obtained because we'd learned to operate forklifts at some point in our army careers. A further parallel in our lives was the fact that we were both taking courses during the summer term that had just begun in order to speed up the process of obtaining our respective degrees.

Finally, I said, "Want to join me for dinner?"

"Sure," he said. "Where?"

"Some place with good food and a fairly dark room where, if we want to do so, we can hold hands without being obvious."

"Is there such a place?"

"Oh, yeah," I said.

We left our unfinished beers on the table, and I followed David to the parking lot. That's the best ass I've seen in a long time, and those well-worn 501s cling to it like the proverbial glove, I thought as he went through the door ahead of me.

There were only six cars in the parking lot, counting Clancey's. I pointed to a Mustang and said, "This is mine."

"Cool," he said. "I'm right next to you in the Toyota. Where are we going?"

I named the restaurant. "Know it?"

"As a matter of fact, I do," he said. "Let's go."

* * * *

As I followed Kevin's Mustang, my mind was working overtime, mostly pursuing negative thoughts. God, Kevin is such a hunk, and the dancing was wonderful, but hunks want to be with other hunks, not guys who have "limitations."

Stop it! Think positively. This will turn out okay. It has to turn out okay; one more rejection will push me over the edge.

Twenty minutes later, we were seated across from each other in a booth in the darkest corner of a small Italian restaurant that was heavily patronized by the gay community. We ordered a bottle of Chianti and studied the menu.

* * * *

An hour into our meal, I found myself beginning to fantasize just a bit about the rest of the evening and wondering what David's preferences were in bed. That train of thought was interrupted when David reached across the table, took my hand, and examined it carefully.

"You have unusually long fingers," he said.

"So I've been told."

"Does the rest of it follow?"

"Excuse me?"

"You know, long fingers, long something else," he said.

"More or less. Why, are you a size queen?"

"Not at all," he said, "but I have difficulty achieving orgasm. It takes a man who can ride hard and deep to get the job done."

Well, that's one question answered.

"Is that an invitation?"

"You know it is," he said. "Want to follow me home?"

"That's pretty much a rhetorical question."

"Yeah."

We finished our dinner and played a quick game of "grab the check," which I won. Then I followed David's Toyota from the restaurant to a section of Murray Hill that was a bit more upper middle class than the rest of that neighborhood. He pulled into the driveway of a brick house that probably dated from the forties, and I parked beside him.

Standing in the driveway, I said, "Nice house."

"Yeah, and the best part is--no roommates."

"How do you manage that, if you don't mind my asking?" I said.

"These days, when some kids go off to college, their parents buy a house for them. The kids find a couple of roommates, and the parents collect enough rent from the roommates to service the mortgage. When the kid graduates, the parents sell the house and take a capital gain if the property has appreciated."

"Cool."

"My dad did that for my older brother. In my case, he was so proud of my military service that he bought this house and allowed me to sign an Agreement for Deed. The way it works is he pays the mortgage, and I pay him. For now, I only have to pay the taxes and insurance. He gave me six years to get an MBA and find a job--after that, monthly payments kick in, and in twenty years the house is mine."

"That's a sweet deal."

"The downside is that interest is accruing every month."

"Why didn't your dad eliminate the interest for the six years?"

"IRS rules. If you fail to charge interest on a loan, they tax you on the interest anyhow. They call that 'imputed interest'. They do the same thing if you charge less than the going rate."

"It's still a sweet deal, even with that."

"Yeah, and a lot to live up to."

He gave me a quick tour of the house, which wound up in the living room, and I said, "I thought we were going to wind up in the bedroom."

"Later. We have to talk first."

"About?"

"About what happens next."

What's to talk about? We're either going to fuck... or not.

* * * *

Chapter Two

I grabbed Kevin in a tight embrace, and we kissed for a while, during the process of which garments began to fall to the floor. When we were down to our shorts, I asked him to sit down on the sofa. He sat and raised a quizzical eyebrow.

"There's something you need to know," I said as I stood in front of him.

"I'm waiting."

"On the last day of my second and last tour overseas, I sustained an injury."

"What kind of injury?"

"This is difficult for me," I said. "Please let me finish without interruption."

"Okay."

"We were assigned to check a small village for insurgents. As I led my squad through the market square, we saw a group of small boys playing under a sprinkler that someone had set up on a wall a few feet above them. They were naked except for dirty jockey shorts, and some women were watching them. I noticed one of the boys in particular, because it looked as though he'd crapped in his shorts--there was a bulge and some dark stains in the seat--and I didn't think anything more of it as we walked by.

"Someone behind me yelled 'grenade', and we all dove for cover. Next thing I knew, I was in the hospital. It turned out that the bulge in the kid's shorts was a small grenade. One of the women snatched it from the kid's shorts and threw it. The damn thing landed in front of us--my point man caught the brunt of it, and I was next in line. One of my buddies was killed, and I sustained some injuries. It was later discovered that the woman was actually a man wearing one of those head-to-toe outfits with only the eyes showing. I didn't see a copy of the after-action report until weeks later while I was in a hospital in Germany."

I paused, and Kevin said, "What injuries?"

Okay, David, I thought. Truth time. You can do this.

I bent over, dropped my boxers, and stood up to face Kevin.

"This."

I saw the shocked look on Kevin's face and thought, God, this is going to be a repeat of two weeks ago. I don't know if I can stand it.

* * * *

David's chest and torso were smooth, although I could see a few scars here and there. His upper thighs were somewhat scarred, and he had a pair of the biggest balls I had ever seen. However, there was nothing above them but smooth skin. I stared for a minute in shock.

Finally, I found my voice and stated the obvious. "The grenade blew your dick off?"

"Most of it. There wasn't enough left to save, so I was left like this."

"How do you...?"

"Pee? They rerouted my urethra to a spot about halfway between my anus and my balls and made an opening for it. I have to sit down on the toilet and hold my balls up and out of the way to relieve myself. And to answer the obvious question--I have to watch porn and use a dildo to achieve any kind of gratification. It doesn't always work."

"Which explains our earlier conversation about size."

"Yeah."

"I don't know what to say."

"At this point, most of my prospective sex partners get dressed and leave, often with a certain amount of yelling and name-calling. Their favorite epithet seems to be 'freak'."

I stood and stepped forward to where he stood, dropping my shorts in the process. "I'm not 'most' people," I said, covering his mouth with mine before he could reply.

Our tongues battled for supremacy for a bit before I broke the kiss and began to kiss his shoulders, followed by his chest and torso. Finally, I knelt on the floor in front of him and fondled his balls while licking the smooth skin where his penis had once been.

I could feel him shiver in response, so I stopped and said, "Feel good?"

"Yeah. That's the only bit of good news from the whole tragedy. The shrapnel took the head of my penis and the top half of the shaft. The surgeons told me that the underside was left intact from the base almost to the head. They were able to use that flap of skin, with all its nerves intact, to cover the spot where they'd removed what was left of the rest of my penis. The medical term for what they did is a penectomy."

I stood up and said, "It's time to go to the bedroom."

"Good, because I've got a huge phantom erection right now."

"Phantom erection?" I parroted.

"Medical literature is full of articles about amputees who report that they can occasionally 'feel' their missing leg or arm, or whatever. People like me can get phantom erections."

"That doesn't sound like it's much fun."

"Believe me when I say, it isn't."

David took my hand and led me down the hallway to his bedroom, where he pulled the covers back on the king-size bed. We lay down belly to belly and began to kiss and fondle, eventually switching to a sixty-nine position, and I was shooting in his mouth in less time than it takes to tell the tale.

When we were again face to face, I said, "Sorry I came so quickly."

"Don't apologize. I wanted you to do just that."

"Why?"

"So that when you fuck me, it will take longer. Lube and condoms are in the nightstand. By the way, how long have you been a 'smoothie'?"

"Since shortly after I moved to Jacksonville. I met some guys who keep themselves smooth, and they turned me onto it."

"I like it."

"Do guys really leave and call you names in the process after they see you naked?"

"In a word, yes. The last time it happened, I spotted the guy in a bar a couple of weeks later. He recognized me, and I could see him begin to whisper to his companions, pointing in my direction. I left that bar and never went back."

"Nobody ever said all gay men were nice guys."

"Yeah. Now, will you shut up and fuck me?"

"I've got a better idea for right now."

"Excuse me?"

I took one of the king-size pillows and positioned it carefully about halfway down the bed from the headboard. Then I grabbed the tube of K-Y with my left hand and lay down on my back with my head propped up on the pillow.

"Get up on your hands and knees, with your balls just below my chin."

"What?"

"On your knees, soldier," I barked, using my old command voice.

"Yes, Sir," he said in a Pavlovian response before he scrambled into place, giggling as he did so.

As I suspected, the pillow gave me enough elevation to service his crotch and balls with my tongue without placing undue strain on my neck. I moistened the middle finger of my right hand with K-Y and began to probe, all the while licking and fondling. My finger quickly found its target and went to work. It took a while, but his breathing eventually became ragged, and he shuddered and moaned. I felt something wet on the palm of my right hand and withdrew my hand and finger. My hand was drenched, so I licked it dry; then we shifted around so that we were once again face to face and kissing.

In between kisses, I said, "How was that?"

"Need you ask? I haven't had an orgasm that intense since before the incident. Whatever made you think to do it that way?"

"A massage guy I know. After he finishes massaging your back, he has you get on your hands and knees on his table. Then he does a prostate massage."

"If you won't think me too greedy, I'd like you to fuck me now."

"Your wish is my command."

I slipped a condom on my erection, positioned him on his back with the pillow under his butt, raised his legs in the air, and entered him slowly. After all the finger work, he was loose enough that I slipped right in. When I hit bottom, I studied his face, and said, "Ready for more?"

"Hard, fast, and deep... if you please."

"Oh, I please... and I aim to please."

I began to pound his ass relentlessly, and had my second orgasm of the evening fairly quickly. As I pulled out of him and began to lower his legs, I saw what appeared to be evidence that he, too, had done so, and said, "You came again, didn't you?"

"I can hardly believe it. In fact, I didn't think it was possible. These days I'm lucky to have one orgasm, but to have two of them in such a short time is a miracle. The ironic thing about all this is that before the accident, I was a total top."

"Wow! You must have had a long learning curve."

"You have no idea."

We snuggled and chatted for a while, and David said, "Can you spend the night?"

"Sure. I took the weekend off from my part-time job, and I don't have to be anywhere until ten o'clock Monday morning."

"No homework?"

"Not a bit. I spent most of the afternoon studying in anticipation of a free weekend."

"Me too. How about a shower before we go to sleep?"

"Yeah."

I followed him into the bathroom and joined him in the stall shower. As we were toweling ourselves dry, I said, "I don't suppose you have a spare toothbrush?"

"No, but you can use mine."

"Are you sure?"

"I've just had your dick in my mouth. Why would I worry about my toothbrush being in yours?"

"Yeah. That makes sense."

Ablutions finished, we returned to his bed and settled down for the night. I don't usually sleep well in strange beds, but for some reason I was out like a light in no time.

The next thing I knew was the sensation of a warm and friendly mouth wrapped around my erection, and I opened my eyes and said, "Is it morning already?"

David stopped what he was doing long enough to say, "After seven."

"What a nice way to start the day."

"I was hoping to inspire you to use your magic fingers again like you did last night," he said, and his mouth went back to work.

My response was interrupted by my orgasm. When he'd finished draining me dry, he rolled over onto his back, and I crawled on top of him. We kissed for a while before I said, "Ready when you are."

He moved to one side while I arranged a pillow to support my head. When I was in place, he handed me the lube and sat there for a minute until I said, "What are you waiting for, soldier? Assume the position."

"Yes, Sir."

It took less time than it had the night before to bring him to orgasm. Practice makes perfect.

We snuggled for a while, belly to belly, and between kisses, he said, "That was amazing. Even better than last night, if such a thing is possible."

"We aim to please."

"And so you do. I'm ready for act three if you are."

After that, we showered and dressed. David let me use his toothbrush again, and his razor, so I felt comfortable even though I was wearing the clothes I'd worn the night before. After breakfast, we decided to go out to the beach and take a walk. I was surprised when he pulled on a pair of Speedos, and surprised again when he slipped something inside his trunks.

"What's that?" I said.

"It's called The Bulge. Guys wear it as a so-called package enhancer. I use it to make up for what's missing."

"Yeah. It certainly works. I forgot to ask you how you managed to totally eliminate your tan line."

"There's a small pool in the backyard surrounded by a six-foot privacy fence."

"That'll do it."

He pulled on a pair of khaki shorts and a tank top, slipped his feet into flip-flops, and said, "Now we need to stop by your place so you can change."

"Let's go."

In the driveway, we had a brief pissing contest as to which vehicle to take, and my Mustang won. It didn't take long to get to my house, which was just across Roosevelt Boulevard in one of the less expensive sections of the Avondale neighborhood. There were three cars in the driveway, one of which I didn't recognize, so I said, "Looks like someone got lucky last night."

"Meaning your roommate?"

"One of them. Their names are Jeff and Roger. They each have one of the downstairs bedrooms, and we get along okay. They're the reason I don't have to work full time."

"What does that mean?"

"An elderly great-aunt died while I was in Iraq. She left me the house free and clear--it seems I was her favorite."

"Did you like her?"

"She was nice enough for an old lady. To be honest, what I really liked was spending the summer with her from the time I was in the seventh grade all through high school. I got to take the bus to the beach when I wanted to--and I took care of her yard for free, and mowed most of the yards in the neighborhood for pay."

"Do you want me to stay in the car?"

"Don't be silly. We'll take a quick stroll through the house to my bedroom. I hope Jeff's up and about, so I can show you off. He's been teasing me lately about coming home alone."

"Thanks--I think."

I led David on a brief tour of the house, starting with the living room; then we climbed the stairs to the master suite and arrived in my bedroom without encountering anyone.

"Guess they're still asleep," I said, "but it's hard to tell, because the other bedrooms are downstairs at the back of the house."

It took me only a minute or two to find Speedos, shorts, flip-flops, and sunscreen, and we were on our way. In a public parking lot adjacent to the beach, we left our outerwear, and other stuff in the trunk of the car and headed for the sand. When we reached the "gay" section of the beach, I took his hand.

"It's safe to do that for the next half-mile or so, although I'd much rather be walking behind you right now."

"Why?"

"Because you've got a magnificent ass, and it looks especially fine under those Speedos."

"Now that you mention it, you fill your Speedos out quite nicely too."

We continued walking hand in hand until we reached the end of the "gay" strip and continued for another mile or so, at times talking, but often in silence, merely enjoying the sounds of the surf and the ever-present sea birds. When we got back to our starting point, we showered under the public showerheads and used our towels to good effect.

Back at the Mustang, I took a huge beach towel out of the car and used it as a screen so David could slip out of his Speedos and into his shorts. Then he returned the favor. We grabbed some fast food on the way back to town, and by the time I pulled into my driveway, the food was long gone.

"I don't know about you," I said, getting out of the car, "but I need a proper shower. That quick rinse at the beach wasn't enough."

"So do I."

He followed me into my bedroom, and I closed the door behind us. We shed our clothes and went into the bathroom, where we spent some time under a warm spray of water.

"Have I told you how gorgeous you are?" I said as we toweled ourselves dry in front of the mirror.

"I don't think so."

"Must have been an oversight, because you are, and that ass drives me crazy."

I stepped behind him and cupped a cheek in each hand by way of emphasis. With my mouth close to his left ear, I whispered, "Time to try out my bed, don't you think?"

"Was that a rhetorical question?"

I grabbed his hand, led him to my bed, and said, "As you can see, I'm not quite as neat as you. My bed is pretty much the way I left it Friday morning."

"At least we don't have to pull the covers back."

"Yeah, there is that."

Lying face to face, we cuddled, kissed, and fondled each other for awhile. When I sat up and arranged a pillow to support my head, he said, "Don't you want me to take care of you?"

"Later. I feel kind of selfish always being the first to cum."

I lubed two fingers, lay back on the pillow, looked up at him, and said, "Waiting for an invitation?"

"Just awaiting your orders, Sir."

"Assume the position, soldier."

"Yes, Sir."

I somehow managed to reach his prostate with two fingers and gave it a workout, all the while licking and fondling his balls and other sensitive spots. My efforts were rewarded when he shuddered and moaned, and I felt a flood of sticky fluid running down the back of his balls.

"It just keeps getting better and better," he said when we were again face to face.

"That was my intent. Glad to know I succeeded."

"With those magic fingers, how could you not?"

After a few minutes of cuddling, I lifted his legs in the air and slipped inside him. By that time, I was so aroused that I came faster than a sixteen-year-old virgin.

"Better and better," I said, as I lowered his legs to the bed and lay full-length on top of him.

"Yeah, two alpha males taking care of each other. Who would have thought?"

"I guess we are, aren't we? Alpha males, that is."

We stacked the two king-size pillows on top of each other and lay back on them side by side, sort of propped up against the headboard. I reached down, caressed his groin with my fingertips, and said, "Tell me about this."

"I told you what happened. What else is there to tell?"

"It must have been devastating. How'd you handle it?"

"Badly. I was kept either totally sedated or in a kind of twilight state from the time the medics got to the site until I woke up in a surgical ward at a base in Germany two days later. They told me later that they woke me up from time to time to ask questions about what hurt and where, but I don't remember any of it. I was still heavily bandaged when they told me the specifics about my injuries, and I didn't handle it well."

"What happened?"

"I really don't like talking about it."

"Maybe, but it's probably good to do so from time to time."

"That's what the shrinks said."

"You saw a shrink?"

"Yeah, several. That was on the program because of the nature of my injury and would have happened even if I hadn't tried to off myself."

"What did you do?"

"There's a lot of pain involved with a full penectomy. Every man has an external penis and an internal penis. Next time you have an erection, feel under your testicles. There's a good bit of erectile tissue just under the surface running almost all the way back to your anus, and they removed all of it."

"That sounds horrible."

"Yeah, it was," he said. "Anyway, as soon as I could stand the pain, I started hoarding my pain pills. One night, when I thought I had enough of them, I swallowed every one."

"Obviously it didn't work."

"No shit? I wound up in the psych ward for three weeks. Lots of long talks with the shrinks. They told me that I would 'learn to deal with it', and that there were lots of women out there who wouldn't mind using a dildo on me, etcetera, etcetera."

"They didn't know you were gay?"

"Are you kidding? You were in the army--you know how it is."

"Yeah, but when you talk to a shrink, it's supposed to be confidential," I said.

"Get real. They keep notes, and notes go into files. If it's written down in a file somewhere, it can be accessed."

"I hadn't thought about it that way," I said.

"Anyway, they released me after I promised to be a good boy and agreed to go back to the shrinks once a year for an 'evaluation'. They even told me that if, after a few years, I decide that I simply can't deal with the problem, I might qualify for castration."

"Jesus!" I said. "Why that?"

"Because when you lose your balls, you're supposed to pretty much lose your sex drive, and it's said to make life easier. That's a laugh--how could that work, unless they wiped your brain clean of all memories of ever having had sex."

"I don't know what to say."

"Well, you did ask."

"Yes, I did, and thanks for sharing a small part of your pain--it helps me to know you better."

I pulled him into an embrace, which led to other things--several other things, in fact, before we drifted off into an afternoon nap. I was awakened by a familiar and friendly mouth on my erection.

"I could get used to this kind of wake-up call," I said.

"Just me being greedy."

The odd look on his face gave me a moment's pause. "What?"

"Well, maybe I'm also trying to store a few memories."

"Memories?"

"Memories that I can replay in my head after you've moved on."

"We've known each other less than twenty-four hours, and you've already got me moving on? Thank you very much for that vote of confidence."

"I'm sorry, it's just that I'm so used to history repeating itself--I don't meet very many guys who want to go to bed with me, and the few that do always seem to move on after the novelty wears off, and that seems to take a lot less than twenty-four hours."

"I told you last night, I'm not one of those guys."

I could see that this big, tough ex-Ranger was on the verge of tears, so I changed the subject and said, "Why don't you finish what you started, and we'll forget we ever had this conversation?"

He nodded his head in agreement, and his hungry mouth latched, once again, onto my erection. After we were mutually satisfied, we took another leisurely shower together and got dressed. As we were dressing, I said, "After all that activity you ought to be hungry--I know I am."

"Now that you mention it, I am. Why don't you grab some dressy clothes and come home with me?"

"What's on your mind?"

"Other than the usual? I want to take you to a really fancy restaurant--one with a dress code--and I want to go to church tomorrow morning."

"Yours or mine?" We'd already determined that we were both Episcopalian.

"Mine's closer."

"Then Good Shepherd it is, but I have a question."

"You do?"

"Yes, why the sudden urge to go to church? You told me you don't attend very often."

"Truth of the matter is, all of a sudden, I have a lot to be thankful for."

"Oh."

I threw my travel kit, socks, underwear, and dress shoes into an overnight bag and placed appropriate attire in a garment bag. David carried my overnight bag, and I threw the garment bag over my shoulder. As we headed toward the front door, I heard it open, and we met Jeff in the hallway.

"Moving out?"

"Hardly that," I said. "Just heading out for a sleepover."

"Nothing wrong with sleepovers," he said, smiling broadly.

"Jeff, David. David, Jeff," I said.

They shook hands and exchanged pleasantries.

"If anybody asks, I'll be home Monday," I said.

"Have fun, guys," Jeff said. "Nice to meet you."

"You too," David said.


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