A gay story: Big Mack Pt. 03 Mack didn’t want to wake up on Sunday morning. His wife felt emotionally distant, his kids felt even further away, and the skinny punk he hooked up with last night had told him to go to hell, nearly annihilating his apartment door as he left. If not for his job, which he loved, his life might as well be over. The emo kid wasn’t important to him, they barely knew each other, but even so, last night’s parting monologue cut him like a knife. He thought about all the things in his life he’d given up by moving out to ‘experiment’. He’d made a terrible mistake. If he died in his sleep, his transmigratory soul would probably have been happy. He was glad he didn’t have a dog to walk or a cat to feed.
Everything was fucked beyond belief. The sinking feeling in his stomach, floating like a bitter pill of intense sadness, wouldn’t go away.
He woke up at sunrise, but it was just to take a piss. His bladder was full. He staggered to the bowl and made aim. He leaned against the wall, nearly falling asleep again mid-stream. He shook his dick, washed his hands, and sleepwalked back to bed. His tired eyes squinted against the light pouring in, but all he wanted right now was darkness. Stopping at the kitchen sink, he gulped a litre of water straight from the tap. Retreating into his bedroom, he pulled the blinds down as far as they’d go and draped the cotton sheet back across his frame. The concept of ‘being alive’ wasn’t doing very much for him.
The city outside was quiet.
He woke up again around ten, his bladder having refilled. He’d had a bad dream and woke up drenched in sweat. He couldn’t remember what the dream was about, but it felt like he’d been adrift on the ocean, alone, with no sight of land, and no hope of survival. He carried the desperately sad feelings of isolation and helplessness from his nightmare into his waking day. He got up, pissed again, and went back to bed.
By now, Brisbane was alive outside his window, but the mechanic’s only goal was to lie silently on his mattress, alone, in the dark, breathing. He wasn’t even remotely hungry. His appetite was dead.
Sleep was escape. Sleep was the only way he could keep his thoughts, feeling and emotions at bay. Sleep was silence.
He knew he wouldn’t speak with anyone until he went to work tomorrow.
This wasn’t just a bad day. This was depression, though the mechanic didn’t know it, and even if he did, he would’ve refused to admit it. Like a solitary man floating on a raft, too many things felt uncertain. He’d lost his direction. He didn’t know who he was anymore. He felt like an explorer who’d lost sight of the north star.
If he’d been more in touch with himself, he would’ve realised that the emo’s vicious words weren’t the cause of his current mood, though perhaps they were the straw that finally broke the camel’s back.
Instead, he told himself to grow a pair and snap out of it.
*
Mack should never have gone to work on Monday morning. All he wanted from the day was a task to occupy his mind, and some company to break the silent monotony of his four rented walls. He wanted someone to talk to, but he had nothing much to say.
He was a shadow of his former self. His feet dragged when he walked, and he looked like he hadn’t eaten or showered in a week. His cheery can-do disposition had seemingly evaporated overnight, leaving an empty shell of a man in its place.
His workmates knew he’d recently separated from his wife, difficult terrain to navigate. Something bad must’ve taken place on the weekend with his wife, they assumed, it was obvious in his demeanour. Perhaps they’d had a fight, they wondered, or perhaps they agreed to get a divorce, but nobody wanted to pry. Mack would talk when he was ready.
Obviously, none of his colleagues had any idea what had actually occurred on the weekend, but the bottom line was the mechanic was in no state to work. His boss should’ve sent him home, ideally, via his doctor, but that didn’t happen.
And so it was that the mechanic was under the bonnet of a 1983 Commodore station wagon, his mind barely functioning, when the metal tool he held in his right hand slipped, piercing the thumbnail on his left, grinding to a halt against the bone.
He looked down, almost curiously, at the pool of blood quickly forming on his thumbnail before watching it flow over, cascading down his wrist, dripping dull burgundy blotches on the concrete garage floor. For a moment, he felt like he was watching the accident happening to someone else. “I’ve cut myself,” he said, barely registering any pain.
His boss came running over. He took a quick look at the deep cut and winced. One of his colleagues was the garage’s first aid officer. He cleaned the wound as best he could before wrapping a tight bandage around it. The bloodletting slowed, but the mechanic’s thumb was a hideous mess.
“You need to go to the emergency room,” his boss said. “Come on, I’ll drive you.” Mack waved the offer away, preferring to go alone. “Then call me when you’ve arrived,” said his boss, clearly worried about his dependable co-worker and loyal friend.
Mack drove to the hospital with nine functioning digits gripping the steering wheel. He caught every single red light. A trickle of blood snaked down his arm, dripping on his pants.
He checked in with the triage nurse; she mopped up the excess blood and quickly redressed his cut. He parked his arse on an uncomfortable plastic seat. He knew he’d be sitting here for hours: public hospitals in Australia are ridiculously understaffed. He looked up at the tiny TV screen in the corner of the waiting room. An American soap opera was on. He didn’t know what it was called, but all those soap operas look the same. The woman in the current scene was hot. He’d plough her for sure. She reminded him of his wife. He told himself he wasn’t gay.
The pain began to arrive thick and fast now. His skull pounded and his thumb throbbed violently. At least he knew he was alive, because dead people don’t feel pain.
Eventually, after time had slowed to a complete standstill, his name was called and a nurse saw him. She unwrapped the bandage, disinfected his thumb, and after applying a local anaesthetic, she removed the nail completely. Mack didn’t feel a thing. The nurse told him his thumbnail would grow back again within a month. She bandaged him up again, gave him a box of heavy-duty painkillers, and sent him on his way.
The nurse was hot. Her rack was massive, and her juicy, freckled cleavage was on full display. He stared at it while she worked on his thumb. He would’ve loved to jam his fat cock between her tits, fucking them hard before firing his thick seed all over her neck and chin. He should’ve asked for her number. No way was he gay.
Mack drove himself home from the hospital and opened the door to his stuffy apartment. His thumb was throbbing again, and he popped two of the painkillers the nurse gave him. He messaged his boss, discovering it isn’t easy to text with only one functioning thumb. He apologised, explaining what happened — he couldn’t work again until his thumb healed. His boss understood completely. He texted his wife and told her what had happened today. She called him immediately, worried, wondering why her husband didn’t ring her from the hospital. Sure, they might be separated, she said, but they’d shared a life together, and she still cared for him.
Mack had no response to offer. The simple truth was he didn’t think of her at all at the time of his accident, but he didn’t want to tell her that. It’d make him feel even more isolated and alone than he already was.
His wife thought the tone of his voice sounded flat, but she put it down to the painkillers he was surely taking. She had no idea of the experience her husband had had just two short evenings ago, nor how much the aftershock had rattled him. They finished talking, and his wife said what she knew she was expected to say — ‘let me know if you need anything’ — and while Mack thanked her for her kind offer, he knew he wouldn’t be asking. He didn’t know he was suffering from depression, but his mind went to the place many depressed men go.
I’ll be OK, he thought. Don’t worry about me. I can look after myself.
He didn’t want to be a burden. Not to her, not to anyone.
Their conversation finished with each of the semi-estranged partners telling each other they loved each other. Mack shrugged. He had no idea what love meant anymore.
His wounded thumb throbbed, reminding him he was still alive.
The injured mechanic was in his bathroom when he thought about the nurse who treated him at the hospital. Her breasts were truly enormous. Fuck, did they really make bras that big? He had a serious thing for nurses with big tits, especially ones who wore glasses. He imagined her coaxing a thick sample out of him, her expert hands and mouth moving in unison to extract his DNA. He imagined his balls boiling seconds before his thick sample shot from the tip of his cock, splashing across the lenses of the nurse’s black-rimmed glasses. He imagined her licking his sample off her frames and spitting it into a petri dish.
He’d been watching too much porn lately. He definitely wasn’t gay. He stood over the toilet bowl and jacked off thinking about the nurse’s fat rack. His knees trembled as his load rained down. It wasn’t a perfect splashdown, and once he’d caught his breath, he wiped a few stray droplets off the toilet seat.
He stayed home the rest of the week, leaving only to buy groceries. He watched mountains of lesbian porn, jacking off with his good hand. He was so into tits and cunts. No fucking way was he gay.
That thing with the emo kid never happened.
*
Months passed.
A week after his accident, the mechanic removed the bandage. He let the wound on his thumb heal naturally in the air, leaving it naked and unprotected, exposing it to everyday bumps and scrapes. His thumbnail regenerated quickly, and he was surprised to watch it grow upwards from his nailbed at the same time it grew out from the base.
He returned to the garage as soon as he could.
The Queensland Reds made it to the semi-finals, but they were bundled out of the competition by a dynamic Hurricanes outfit. The Super Rugby Pacific trophy landed in windy Wellington for the first time in many long years. The mechanic shrugged. There’s always next year. The uncertainty in his life made him realise that while rugby might be the game they play in heaven, it isn’t life or death on earth. Hope springs; he just wasn’t sure how eternal it was.
He spoke with his wife from time to time. Their kids were doing well at school, but it slowly became clear to each of them that their marriage was approaching terminus. They’d remain friends, but they wouldn’t reconnect romantically. The fire had gone out. Their kids were old enough to understand and accept.
A sub-tropical winter arrived in Brisbane. Days were sunny and dry, but short.
Mack sat on his balcony after work one Friday night. His thumb had fully recovered, and there’d been no lasting damage. A cool beer sat on the table by his side, and he felt like he’d earned it after a busy week at work. He was planning to meet up with some mates for a few quiet beers tonight; nothing too serious, but he was looking forward to an easy night of talking shit. He sipped his beer, looking at the sky, losing himself in deep blue. He’d lived through a serious rough patch, and even though he wasn’t sure how or why, he’d come out the other side.
His life had changed, but he was still friends with his wife. He remained on good terms with his kids. His beloved Queensland Reds would be back on the park next year. He loved his job. There was money in his wallet, food in the supermarket, and beer in the fridge.
Life was good. And he definitely wasn’t gay.
He stood up and went back inside, closing his balcony door behind him, He showered and changed.
*
An hour later, Mack met his mates at the Regatta Hotel. The pub, built in the 1870s, was a grand multi-storey building, right on the banks of the Brisbane River. The Friday night crowd began to swell as the mechanic sat with his buddies at an outside table on the pub’s verandah. Beer, wine and spirits flowed freely across the busy bar. The air was warm for a winter evening, surprisingly humid for this time of year. The ceiling fans whirred maximum.
Mack was wearing a black Led Zeppelin t-shirt, a pair of faded jeans and a pair of old sneakers. His thick red hair was tied back in a ponytail under his Queensland Reds cap, and each of his armpits had been treated to a few squirts of Lynx Africa. Dressed to the nines. His t-shirt, though maybe one size too small for his slightly chunky gut, suited his dad bod perfectly. He and his mates ordered dinner, and Mack smashed a rump steak with a serve of roast vegetables on the side.
They were a couple of beers deep, talking shit, when his mate Ryan noticed someone across the bar who looked familiar. “Looks like your friend’s nephew over there,” he said, pointing across the mechanic’s shoulder.
“Huh?” Mack replied. He genuinely had no idea what his mate was talking about, having spent the intervening months pushing the emo out of his mind. He reached out, grabbed his beer, and took a refreshing sip.
“Yeah,” said Hunter, addressing his mechanic friend, “I see him too. Your mate’s son, nephew, whatever, who cares. That fuckin’ weirdo who came to the rugby with us one night. The cunt with the pierced face.”
Mack remembered now. The emo. Fuck. He nearly dropped his beer. He looked up to find Ryan waving across the bar like an idiot. “What are you doing, you fuckwit?” Despite the beer, suddenly, his mouth felt dry.
“Waving him over,” Ryan grinned, “just in case the freak wants to come have a beer with his mate’s uncle’s cousin. Or whatever the hell you’re meant to be. I forgot what the connection was. It was too confusing.”
As Mack looked over his shoulder, he saw a group of eight, maybe ten people dressed in various shades of complete black. He saw him. The emo’s arm was wrapped around the waist of a slightly chubby goth chick whose enormous tits seemed to defy gravity.
“Stop waving at him, you idiot!” Mack exploded, slamming his beer glass down on the table.
“What’s your problem?” asked Hunter. “The weirdo cunt crashed on your couch while he was looking for a place, didn’t he? Don’t you wanna say g’day?”
Mack tried to obfuscate. “I just thought we were gonna drink beer and talk shit tonight.” He really didn’t need this.
“Yeah, but he’s your … fuck … wait, doesn’t matter,” announced Ryan. “He’s coming over, he must’ve seen us.”
The mechanic nearly had a panic attack. He reminded himself he wasn’t gay. He felt a hand land on his shoulder.
“Hey, big guy,” said Yoshi, “fancy meeting you here? Small world, huh?”
Mack couldn’t speak. He refused to look at the kid. He brushed the unwanted hand off his shoulder.
“Hey, weirdo,” said Hunter. “Wanna sit down with us and have a beer with your uncle’s buddy?”
Mack squirmed in his seat. Two minutes ago, he felt relaxed. He was leaning back in his chair, enjoying the celebration that comes at the end of a hard working week. But suddenly he’d tensed up and perched forward. His mates noticed. The sudden shift in his posture and mood was unmistakeable. His friends immediately wondered if there was a hidden story. Like, maybe the kid was a shit flatmate, and maybe they’d fallen out over something. It was none of their business, and they didn’t want to pry. They just hoped their mate was OK.
“Thanks, but nah,” said Yoshi. “I’m with friends from uni. Just came over to say hi.”
The mechanic turned around in his chair and looked up at the emo. The half-Japanese kid was wearing black eye-makeup that brought out the liquid beauty of his dark, exotic eyes.
The mechanic’s cock twitched, and for the millionth time, he told himself he wasn’t gay.
The goth girl approached, wrapping a heavily tattooed arm around the emo’s skinny waist. “Who’re you talking to, sexy?” she asked, kissing him on the cheek with her deep red lipstick. Mack’s friends stared at her. The kid might be a freak, but he knew how to pull hot chicks.
Yoshi tried to remember the convoluted tale they’d weaved. “My cousin’s brother’s history teacher from school is a friend of this guy,” he said, pointing at the mechanic.
“Good to see you finally found a place to live,” said Hunter. He lifted his beer in salute, meaning the freak well. “Apartment hunting sucks.” He pointed at Mack. “Glad this shithead helped you out.”
The goth chick, overhearing, looked confused. Her face contorted into a quiet, puzzled frown. As far as she knew, Yoshi had lived at the same address for quite a while, and was Brisbane born and bred. She would’ve shrugged her shoulders if the lace of her tight corset had allowed it. She walked back to her friends on the other side of the bar, leaving Yoshi to catch up with his uncle’s brother’s former tennis partner.
In full view of Mack’s mates, the emo craned down and planted a thick kiss on the mechanic’s rugged cheek. Mack flinched as Yoshi felt sweet, masculine blue-collar stubble graze across his sweet lips. “If you wanna fuck me later on tonight, big guy,” the emo whispered into the mechanic’s ear, “my pussy is all yours.” He watched his girlfriend as she glided back towards the nest of goths. “Maybe she can watch us,” he said with a wicked smile. “I know she’d be into it.”
A heavy, black silence fell around Mack’s table as Yoshi walked away. “He’s joking,” he protested, trying to laugh it off. “Generational difference. Kids these days. They’ll say anything to get some attention.” His eyes scanned the table. He noticed everyone’s glass was empty and remembered it was his shout. “Refills,” he said nervously. “Gonna head to the bar,” he said, glad of the momentary escape. “Back in a sec.”
With heavy, masculine steps, the mechanic strode across the floorboards and approached the bar. He waited, leaning on the woodwork while his beers were being poured.
The emo crept up behind him again, a blood-red glass of wine in his grip. “Having a good night with your rugby mates, big guy?” he smiled.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” seethed the mechanic.
The emo nonchalantly pushed his fringe away from his dark brown eyes. “This is my local. I live in the Toowong Central Apartments, two blocks from here. I’m surprised to find *you* here, though. Never seen you here before. Thought you drank at the Caxton. Thought that’s where you and your rugby mates hung out.”
“Not tonight,” replied the nervous mechanic.
“Well, hopefully you pick up tonight,” said the emo, brushing his fringe away from his eyes again. He glanced at the mechanic’s chest, noticing his nipples poking through his tight t-shirt. “Plenty of hot women here who’d be into a one-nighter with a rugged dad bod like yours, not to mention your beautiful dick. But if you luck out, big guy, my place is just around the corner.” He bit his pierced bottom lip seductively.
The mechanic gulped. “I’m not gay,” he protested, though his stiffening penis had a different perspective.
The emo laughed. “Yeah, I know. Everyone your age says that.” He patted the mechanic’s fat, denim-clad arse before walking back to his friends.
Mack watched jealously as Yoshi re-entered the coven of goths and drove his tongue deep into the chick’s mouth. The emo knew the mechanic was watching them. As soon as he and his girlfriend’s lips parted, Yoshi blew the mechanic an air-kiss. His girlfriend noticed, and she play-slapped Yoshi’s cheek. They kissed again, more deeply this time, and the mechanic’s eyes were glued to the show. The goth chick’s hands landed on the emo’s arse, giving it a squeeze. With a shock, Mack remembered his dick parted those cheeks just a few months ago.
As the mechanic paid for the beers, the front of his jeans resembled a tent. The struggle was real as he carried the beverages back to their outside table.
The emo was sex on legs. He couldn’t deny it. Fuck, that eye makeup he was wearing. The punk’s eyes were beautiful. So dark. So piercing. Pools to dive into, to drown in, and to never come back from. But the punk kid was taken, and besides, the mechanic wasn’t gay, so it didn’t matter.
He carried the beers back outside to his mates. Conversation quickly moved on from the freak with the pierced face, but Mack remained distracted for the rest of the night, unable to settle back into his earlier frame of mind.
His mind was fixated on the emo.
He reached for his beer. He looked back over his shoulder, stealing a glance.
The emo was still there. One arm was wrapped around the goth with the big tits, with the other holding a glass of red. He noticed the mechanic staring at him.
Eventually, Mack’s mates called it a night and headed home. After taking a well-needed piss, the mechanic stuck around for one more beer, telling his mates he wasn’t tired yet. He sat outside by himself, sipping slowly, enjoying his final beer of the evening. He scrolled through socials on his phone, feeling the evening breeze play across his skin. He was almost ready to leave when he felt someone approach.
“How’s your night been?” asked the emo, sitting down.
“Not bad,” said the mechanic. His mouth was dry.
“We’re gonna have a small party at my place,” said Yoshi. “You wanna come?”
Mack gulped. “Who’s gonna be there?”
“Me, Amelia, and you,” the emo replied. “Like I said, small.”
“Who’s Amelia?” asked the mechanic.
“My girlfriend,” came the reply. “You met her before. Earlier tonight. Briefly. She’s over there.” Yoshi pointed to the chubby goth chick with the huge titties.
Mack wasn’t sure. “She your girlfriend?”
“Kinda,” said the emo. “Probably closer to FWB than girlfriend.”
Mack didn’t recognise the three-letter acronym. “FWB?”
Yoshi smiled. “Friends with benefits.” He sipped his glass of red wine.
Mack tried to excuse his way out of the situation. “I … wait, no … I don’t want to get in your way.”
Yoshi tried to reassure him. “We’re all good, big guy.”
Mack looked over his shoulder. The emo’s FWB waved at him.
“All your friends have gone home,” said Yoshi, “but you’re still here. Why? Are you waiting for someone else? Or are you waiting for me?” He flicked his hair away from his eyes.
The mechanic gulped nervously. He was a big man, and it took a lot of beer for him to feel drunk. He’d had half a dozen schooners tonight, and while he felt a little bit under the influence, he was by no means pissed. He was, however, feeling an odd mixture of curiosity and nervousness. His head felt a little light.
“I see you’re into the classics,” said Yoshi.
“Huh?”
“Your t-shirt,” replied the emo. “Led Zep. Can’t go wrong with that.”
“Yeah,” mumbled the mechanic. He checked Yoshi’s wardrobe out. Black t-shirt adorned with a logo of a band he’d almost certainly never heard of, long skate pants held in place with a studded belt, and a pair of scuffed-up black Doc Marten boots. A black cap, worn with the peak facing backwards, wrangled his floppy fringe. His fingernails were painted black. “Led Zep. Great band, hey?” Mack studied the logo on the half-Japanese kid’s t-shirt. “What’s that?” he asked.
“A band,” Yoshi replied. “Parkway Drive.”
“They good?” asked Mack.
“Yeah. They rock, dude. You should check ’em out. Aussie, too.”
“I’ll put ’em on my Spotify.” The mechanic took another sip of his beer. His glass was nearly empty.
Amelia walked over, onto the outside verandah. She stood next to Yoshi. “Hey,” she said, extending a hand in Mack’s direction.
The mechanic, gently accepting her hand. Her fingernails were painted a bright, lurid red, matching her lipstick. He imagined watching her thick lips part to accept Yoshi’s cock in her mouth.
“I heard before you’re a distant relative of Yoshi’s? Or a friend of a relative? Or something like that?”
Yoshi didn’t want to embarrass the mechanic with the truth. “Yeah, something like that.”
There was a pause in conversation. In the distance, they heard boats on the river, cars on the road, and crickets chirping in the bushes. The breeze was starting to turn cool.
“So,” said Yoshi, “like I was saying before, Amelia and I are gonna head back to my place. Listen to some tunes, talk shit, maybe have another drink, watch ‘Rage’ on TV. You’re welcome to join us if you want.”
Mack tried to think clearly, but a thin fog of alcohol had descended. He recalled the emo’s brutal signoff the last time they met, now seared onto his consciousness. He remembered telling Yoshi he was going too fast, and the kid lost his mind at him. What had changed since then? The way the emo slammed his front door shut that night suggested he never wanted to see him again. So why was the punk kid even talking to him if he’d offended him so badly?
If he accepted the emo’s offer, what was he committing to? The emo’s chick was exactly his type. He’d never fucked a goth before, but he’d always been into chubby women. Maybe something could happen there. It’d been ages since he’d had sex with anyone or anything other than his own right hand.
What else was he gonna do tonight? He considered heading back home. It’d been a long week and a good night. He knew he’d fall asleep quickly, but he’d probably wake up in the morning wondering what might’ve happened if he’d stayed out. He didn’t have anything urgent to do tomorrow. Besides, maybe he was overthinking it all. Maybe the punk’s plans were exactly as stated: tunes, talk, drinks. “Well, I’m not tired,” he said, “so, yeah. If you’re sure it’s OK?”
“Yeah, big guy,” the emo replied through a thin half-smile. “Of course it is.”
Amelia smiled a welcoming smile, and the mechanic wondered what Yoshi had told her about him. He hoped they weren’t axe-murderers or members of a satanic cult. He couldn’t decide which of those two possibilities were worse.
“OK. Thanks. Yeah. Nice of you.” Mack drained the rest of his beer and Yoshi finished his glass of wine. They left the pub, walking out into the Friday night noise of suburban inner-city Brisbane.
It was a ten minute walk to the Toowong Central Apartments, where Yoshi lived. He and Amelia walked hand in hand, and the mechanic followed. There was hardly any conversation.
Mack wondered what the hell he was getting into. He could always change his mind. He could turn and walk away if he wanted to. He could plead sleepiness after a long week and head back home.
But he didn’t.
*
Yoshi turned the key in the door. He and his two guests stepped inside.
Mack looked around. He felt like he’d stepped into a darker part of the universe. Heavy black curtains on the windows, deep red lampshades, and a purple lightbulb screwed into the loungeroom light fitting cast the room in gloom. A print of Edvard Munch’s ‘The Scream’ hung on the wall alongside posters of punk and goth bands.
“I love coming to your place,” enthused Amelia.
Yoshi smiled, proud of his interior decoration. “It’s pretty cool, hey?”
This was very different to the bland, blue-collar suburban décor the mechanic was used to. His wife would’ve had a panic attack being in a room like this. Mack noticed the apartment had floorboards instead of carpet. He took his shoes off and left them near the door.
“Gonna put a record on,” said the emo. “Help yourself to a beer, big guy. In the fridge.”
Mack sauntered to the kitchen and rescued a cold one. He flipped the lid as the needle hit the groove. He nodded in appreciation. “Led Zeppelin III,” he said, coming back to the living area.
“Yeah,” said the emo. “Like I said earlier, it’s hard to go wrong with Led Zep, hey.” The mechanic stood awkwardly in the centre of the room. “Take a seat, big guy,” his host offered. Yoshi and Amelia sat side by side on the couch, and Mack settled into an armchair.
“Good week?” asked Yoshi.
“Yeah,” exhaled Mack. “Hard work, but tiring. Friday nights are always the best time of the week, because my wallet is full.”
“What do you do?” asked Amelia.
“I’m an auto mechanic.”
“I know nothing about cars,” she said.
“That’s why I have a job,” he smirked.
Mack was terrible at small talk, but he gave it a go. “So how do you two know each other?”
“Mutual friend,” explained the emo.
“We’ve been seeing each other for a few months,” she explained, “though we’re not really serious. We just like to hang out and fuck. We hooked up at a punk gig one night. Yoshi must’ve known I thought he was hot, because I told our aforementioned mutual friend and she must’ve told him, because he came onto me with the kind of confidence a man shows when he knows she’s a sure thing. We watched the band and had a few drinks, then he took me to the park across the street and he shoved his cock in my mouth.” Her hand lovingly patted the front of Yoshi’s pants.
Mack’s dick moved. Fuck, he’d love to watch her suck the punk’s uncut dick. He’d love to watch her unzip his pants and bob up and down until the emo sprayed her face and neck.
“Yoshi told me you two hooked up a couple of times,” she continued, probing.
Mack gulped. Here we go. “Yeah. I guess that’s why he came over to my table for a quiet chat tonight.”
Yoshi flicked his fringe away. “But I probably wouldn’t even have noticed you were there tonight except your deadshit rugby mates waved at me like they were drowning.” He smiled before turning to his friend-with-benefits. “But we haven’t seen each other for a few months.”
Once more, Mack’s mind flashed back to that fateful night, but he pushed the memory aside. “Then I haven’t told you about my thumb,” he said.
The emo frowned in confusion. “What happened to your thumb?”
“No biggie, really. One day at work, I rammed a metal tool into my thumb. It went through the nail and hit the bone. I went to the hospital and the nurse ripped my thumbnail off.”
Amelia winced. “She ripped your nail right off?”
“Yeah, well, there was a huge hole in it, and she needed to disinfect it. She gave me an anaesthetic, so I didn’t feel it, but I bled bad.”
“Is it better now?”
“Yeah. Perfect. Back to normal. Months ago now. But it was weird, though. I’ve never seen a nail grow from nothing before.”
Amelia was curious. “Can I see?”
Mack held his thumb up. “This one,” he said, pointing to it with his other hand.
“Looks normal to me,” she said, “but you’re too far away. Can I see closer?”
Mack stood up and moved to the edge of the couch, holding his thumb in front of Amelia’s face. “Still looks a bit banged up.”
“Nah,” said the mechanic. “That’s normal. I do manual labour, my hands always look banged up.”
Amelia reached out to touch Mack’s thumb. It was so thick. She couldn’t ever remember seeing a hand as big as this. She wondered what it tasted like. She wanted to suck it; she wanted to feel it in her mouth and on her tongue, and she wanted to look up at the mechanic’s face with her dark goth eyes to see how he’d react.
She wondered how big his dick was. She knew Yoshi had hooked up with him, but he’d kept details scarce. But fuck, look at the size of his hand. He must be big down there.
Side one of the record ended, and Yoshi got up to turn it over. Amelia’s trance was broken, but innocent Mack had no idea what had been going through her mind. He was just showing her his recovered thumb, like she’d asked. “I need to take a piss,” he announced. “Where’s your bathroom?”
Yoshi dropped the stylus on side two. “Second door on the left,” he said.
“Ta,” the mechanic replied. He walked down the corridor and closed the bathroom door behind him.
“Hey, come and listen to this,” said the emo, grabbing his girlfriend by the hand. They heard the stream begin.
“Fuck, dude, that sounds like a waterfall!” gasped Amelia. “You’ve listened to him piss before, haven’t you?” Yoshi nodded. She wanted to touch herself.
As they heard the thunderous roar peter out into a trickle, they tiptoed back to the loungeroom of gloom. They sat back down, pretending like they hadn’t ever moved. Amelia’s phone was in her hand as she pretended to scroll through her socials.
Mack sat back down in his armchair. “Needed that,” he declared.
They sat quietly, listening to the record. Eventually it ended, and Yoshi made no moves to put a new one on. The tonearm returned automatically to its cradle, and the turntable stopped turning.
“Fuuuuuuuuck,” exhaled Yoshi. He’d noticed the mechanic kept glancing at his girlfriend’s corseted rack.
Mack glanced at him. Even in darkness, the emo looked beautiful.
“What’s up?” asked Amelia.
Yoshi fidgeted uncomfortably. “Fuck, babe … like … I’m just feeling so fucking horny right now.”
“You wanna play?” she purred, stroking his thigh.
Yoshi leaned in close, brushing her black hair away, smelling her neck. “Maybe we should ask our guest if he wants to play.”
Mack knew they weren’t talking about board games.
“You wanna play with us?” Amelia asked the mechanic. “I promise we won’t bite,” she said. “Unless you want us to.”
“Me and your friend have some history,” Mack told her. “We need to sort that shit out.”
Amelia looked shocked, and the emo looked confused. “Huh?” he said.
“What, you don’t remember?” probed the mechanic. The kid knew, he just didn’t want to go there. He hoped it had all been forgotten, though it obviously hadn’t been. He didn’t know that the intense gravity of his words that night nearly made the mechanic throw himself off his balcony.
Amelia’s eyes widened at the looming mystery between her semi-boyfriend and this strong blue-collar man. “What happened?”
“We hooked up one night,” Mack said. “We had sex, but my mind was all over the place that night.” He took a deep breath, preparing to explain the basics. “I’m married, and my wife and I have a couple of kids. I’ve had sex with women other than her, but I confessed to her one night that I was into men as well as women, even though I’d never had sex with a dude at the time. I caught myself stealing glances at hot guys in the street, and I jacked off to male porn whenever I had the house to myself. I think she was shocked at first, but we talked it through, and soon enough, I moved out so I could scratch that itch. Luckily, our kids are old enough and mature enough to understand what’s going on. My wife was supportive, but I guess it put some emotional distance between her and me. Like, for instance, when I went to the hospital because of my injured thumb, I never thought to call her until after I’d been patched up and was back at home. Anyway, I set up a Grindr account and Yoshi messaged me. Fast forward a bit, and we went to a rugby game one night, and …”
“Him?” Amelia interrupted, stifling an amused snort. She turned to her FWB. “You went to a rugby match? You fucking *hate* sports!”
Yoshi smiled innocently. “Gotta try new things once in a while.”
Amelia waited for the mechanic to continue.
“Anyway, so after the game, Yoshi came back to my place. The TLDR version is we had sex, then I had a mental meltdown, and Yoshi screamed at me for a few minutes before he left.”
“What? Why’d he scream at you?” she asked, and the mechanic took a deep, settling breath.
“Because I told him he was moving too fast. And thinking back, that was a shitty thing for me to say, because I was the one who took him to my bedroom. I was the one setting the pace, not him, and when I asked him to stop doing something I wasn’t ready for, he stopped immediately. I had no reason to say what I said. But he was the first dude I ever fucked, and … well … post-nut clarity, I guess. So I blamed him for the homelife shit I couldn’t process.”
Yoshi silently absorbed the auto mechanic’s words. He knew he’d gone way too far with what he said that night, but he was relieved to know that he wasn’t in the wrong.
“I guess I just needed some time to think. Yoshi wasn’t pressuring me in any way, but I was worried I was rushing into something that might cost me my marriage. He told me I was pressuring myself, and he was right.”
Amelia leaned forward. “But hang on a sec, you said your wife was cool with you playing the field?”
“Yeah, she said she was cool with the idea,” replied the mechanic, “but it doesn’t mean she wanted me to go through with it. Like, I think she wishes I never said anything. Life would’ve just gone on, and we’d still be a happy family.”
“Do you reckon you’ll get back together again?” she asked.
“Nah,” exhaled Mack, feeling disappointment tinged with relief. “Unlikely. We’ve talked, we’ve grieved, we’re done. We’ll still be friends, and we need to keep up appearances for the sake of the kids and their school, but I guess this is my new life now. Single, early 40s, experimenting and starting again. Even though my marriage is over, it’s completely unrelated to anything Yoshi said or did. There’s nothing left to lose now, so now I want to try all the shit I’ve denied myself by living a neat, suburban life. I know I’m not gay, because I know I’m still into women, but I can’t deny I’m into men too. I’ve fucked a couple more dudes since Yoshi, though they were blokes more my own age. I liked it, and I can feel myself wanting to make up for lost time. Whatever it was I couldn’t deal with a few months ago, it’s gone now.”
“Sounds like you might be bi,” said the goth chick.
Mack stared at her massive tits, still encased in her tight corset. He’d love to suck on them. “Yeah, probably.”
“That’s hot,” she breathed.
Yoshi broke his silence. “You two finished with the psychoanalysis?” he pouted. “I’m horny.”
Amelia picked up on something. “Yoshi, I heard you calling him ‘big guy’ before.”
The emo looked at his semi-girlfriend. “Because … he’s … a big guy. Look at him. Broad shoulders, thick neck, strong thighs and arms, big hands, what do you reckon? He’s got a big dick. Now stop cramping my horny with your questions.”
“Oh my god,” she gasped. “And he fucked you?”
Yoshi nodded. “Like I said, he’s big.” He smirked at the mechanic, remembering he called him a two pump chump. “But he doesn’t last very long,” he teased.
“Like I said before, you were the first guy I’ve ever fucked,” said the mechanic, defending himself, “and it’d been ages since the last time I had anal.” He looked over at the goth chick. “My wife won’t go there. So I guess I got a little excited. I can usually last a little longer than that.”
“Yeah,” said Yoshi, “but I shouldn’t have called you out on it anyway. That wasn’t fair. I guess I was angry at being blamed for something I didn’t do.”
Mack was penitent. “I’m sorry for that.”
“And I’m sorry for screaming at you,” the emo admitted. “To be honest, I scared myself with how I reacted. I felt scared that what you said to me provoked that kind of reaction. I’m not normally like that either. Let’s just put it down to a strange night that we can move past.”
The mechanic smiled grimly, trying hard not to recall how suicidal the emo’s words made him feel that night. “You really slammed my door that night. You’re pretty strong for a skinny runt. They say rugby’s a game for all body types, and I picture you as a fullback.”
Yoshi laughed. “Yay. Sportsball. But seriously, can we fuck now?”
Amelia sensed the tense moment had passed. “Get this shit off me, dude,” she said, standing up. “Can’t fucking breathe.”
The half-Japanese emo stood behind her and began to undo her corset. The threads were delicate and his fingers took some time to get the job done, but soon enough, Amelia’s corset was unlaced and her captive breasts were freed. “Fuck, that feels better,” she said, fully inflating her lungs with air for the first time in hours. Her braless breasts hung loose inside the black t-shirt she wore under the garment. Mack stared. They were big and perky. So much bigger than his wife’s tiny breasts. These were a meal.
“You can stare at my tits all you want,” Amelia said to Mack, “but you can’t touch. At least, not just yet. I wanna watch you fuck my boyfriend first.”
“Take your t-shirt off, big guy,” said Yoshi, and the mechanic complied. Mack’s chest was a little hairy. His pecs were strong and pronounced, and his nipples were large. A tattoo of his rugby club’s logo adorned his left bicep. Yoshi gasped. “Fuck, you’re so fucking hot,” he whispered.
Amelia pinched one of her nipples through her black t-shirt as Yoshi moved across the room and put his head in the mechanic’s chest. She cupped a breast and sighed. Mack’s head lolled back as he felt the emo’s tongue lightly grazing across a nipple before he took it into his mouth and sucked it. “Fuck, punk, that feels so good.” Mack placed his hands on the back of the emo’s head and began running his fingers through his hair. Yoshi moved across to the mechanic’s other nipple, and Mack moaned in bliss.
Yoshi dropped a hand into the mechanic’s lap. He found the thick sausage he was looking for and gave it a squeeze through his jeans. Slowly, he began kissing his way south. He imagined Mack’s stomach would’ve been taut and strong in his rugby playing days, probably sporting a six-pack, but the emo loved the mechanic’s dad bod paunch. He stuck his tongue in Mack’s belly button — nobody had ever kissed the mechanic there before.
Amelia had her hand down her pants. She knew Yoshi was bisexual, and while she’d heard some of his stories, she’d never seen him get it on with another guy before.
The emo unzipped the mechanic’s pants. “You all good, big guy?”
Mack nodded. “Yeah.” He was so into this.
The emo fished out the mechanic’s huge cock and gave it a few light strokes. Mack knew what to do — he unbuckled his jeans and stood up for a moment, letting the denim collect around his ankles, freeing his balls and allowing access to his thighs.
“Look at his cock, babe,” said Yoshi, holding it in his fist. “It’s fucking huge. And check out his balls. So full and swollen.” He inhaled the mechanic’s sweaty scent. “And he smells so fucking good.”
“You gonna suck a load out of him, Yoshi?” grunted Amelia. She’d thrown her panties off. Her legs were spread wide. She fapped as she watched the show.
The mechanic nearly came watching her, imagining his face buried in her chubby crotch. “There’s more than enough meat for the two of you,” he grinned.
“Come join me, babe,” invited Yoshi.
Amelia crawled across the floor to join her FWB at the head of the largest dick either of them had ever had the pleasure to play with. Yoshi gripped the thick shaft and fed it to his semi-girlfriend, and she gagged after about swallowing three or four inches. “It’s so fucking thick, too,” she said, eyes watering. She sucked on one of his balls while the emo fellated the head and stroked the mechanic’s shaft.
Mack was glad the goth chick came over to slobber on his knob. If she’d stayed where she was, legs spread wide with a hand in her wet cunt, he wouldn’t have lasted more than a minute.
“Feel good?” asked Yoshi, tickling the head of the fat meat with his tongue.
“Fuck, punk, I’ve never had head like this.” The mechanic closed his eyes.
The emo and the goth changed places as Amelia had a second attempt at sucking Mack’s log into her face. She stretched her jaw wide. She’d always prided herself on her blowjob technique, but for a shaft this girthy, keeping her teeth behind her lips was a challenge. The emo sucked a hairy, sweaty testicle into his mouth and sucked hard. Amelia went south to join him, and they kissed under the mechanic’s sloppy wet balls like it was mistletoe.
They must’ve licked, sucked, stroked and pleasured the mechanic for twenty minutes before he just couldn’t take it anymore. “I’m gonna cum, punk,” he roared, and the emo stroked Mack’s shaft like a piston.
Yoshi clamped his mouth around the head of the mechanic’s cock as it unloaded like a firehose. Amelia watched Mack’s huge balls rhythmically tensing and relaxing as they shot stream after stream of sperm into her boyfriend’s hungry mouth. She mashed her clit and sprayed, nearly screaming as she watched him gulping it down.
Mack’s thick, wet cock flopped out of the emo’s mouth, slapping down onto his strong thigh. Amelia stared — it truly was huge. She languidly sucked the head of his dick into her mouth and was rewarded with a few last droplets of semen. She looked at the emo with wide eyes. “Fuck, Yoshi, watching you suck that fat cock was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”
“Did you cum?” he asked her, the taste of sweet nut still on his tongue.
“Didn’t you hear me? I might’ve woken the neighbours. The cops’ll be here any second. When his big dick unloaded in your mouth, I came everywhere.” She paused for a second. “Kiss me,” she cooed.
As the emo jammed his tongue in his goth girlfriend’s mouth, she tasted the remains of the mechanic’s sweet load. “You’re such a good cocksucker, dude,” she said. “I loved watching you do that.” She looked up at the mechanic. She wasn’t into blue-collar men, but she was into big dicks. She wasn’t sure whether she’d ever let him fuck her, but she wanted to watch him fuck her boyfriend.
Yoshi wanted the same thing. He gave the mechanic’s dick a kiss. “Thanks for the thickshake,” he said. “You reckon you can go again, big guy?”
Mack laughed nervously. “Give me a sec. I could when I was your age, but …”
“But now you’re an old fart,” Yoshi joked. “That’s what you were gonna say, right?” He smiled a wicked smile. “I know how to get you hard again.” He tore his clothes off — everything — and stood in the middle of the room, completely naked, before pushing his arse in the mechanic’s face. “Sniff,” he said. “Smell me.”
Amelia had never seen this side of her boyfriend before. Fuck, he was such a filthy slut. She started touching herself again.
Mack’s nostrils sucked in the sweet smell of Yoshi’s arse. His cock moved. Amelia couldn’t decide what to watch — her FWB’s arse, or the mechanic’s growing cock.
“Now eat me,” Yoshi commanded. “Eat my pussy. I saw you staring at Amelia’s cunt before. You can’t have hers, but you can have mine. Lick it. Eat my cunt.”
Mack grabbed the emo’s hips, pulling his arse into his face. He was fully erect now, as was Yoshi. Amelia noticed a dribble of precum pearled at the tip of her boyfriend’s uncut dick. She wanted to taste it, but she was paralysed by what she was watching.
“Fuck yeah,” seethed the emo. “Eat my pussy, dude. Eat me out.” As he tickled the underside of his balls, he felt the mechanic’s breath on his fingers. “Fuck, dude, that’s so good.” He squeezed hard and pushed out a fart.
Amelia came, spraying everywhere, barely able to comprehend what she was witnessing.
The emo would’ve let the mechanic eat him out until breakfast tomorrow, but he wanted something more. “You hard, big guy?”
Mack couldn’t tear his mouth from the half-Japanese kid’s boycunt. Yoshi eventually pushed him away, and the mechanic’s gasping face looked up at the smiling emo. “I bet you taste like my pussy,” he said.
“I love your pussy,” replied the mechanic. His thick beard was matted.
The emo craned down and kissed their guest.
Amelia nutted again.
Yoshi bent himself over the arm of the couch. He pulled his cheeks wide, his puckered hole on full display. “Come fuck your slutty punk, big guy.”
Mack’s cock was hard like steel. He lined up behind the skinny emo, noticing a smattering of small, colourful tattoos on the emo’s skin. He gripped his hips, and slowly pushed forward. Yoshi winced for a second as he focused on relaxing, and pain turned to pleasure as his sphincter gave way, granting access to the mechanic’s fat log. It burned, but it felt so fucking good.
“You look so fucking hot, babe,” Amelia whispered.
Yoshi couldn’t respond. His brain was fried. This was some seriously good dick. He looked at her, his mouth gaped open, and she came again, spraying in an arc. The wooden floorboards were so wet they was turning into a trip hazard.
“You like this, punk?”
“Yeah,” the emo drooled. “So … fucking … big.”
“Two pump chump, hey?”
As the mechanic slowly picked up the pace, the emo knew he was in for the fuck of his life. “I’m sorry about saying that,” he breathed.
“You’re not sorry yet,” snarled the mechanic, “but you will be.”
Ten minutes of serious pounding. Then fifteen. Then twenty. Amelia watched her boyfriend’s face contorting with bliss, agony, and everything in between.
She wanted what her boyfriend was getting, but she knew she wouldn’t get it tonight. The mechanic was a machine. He fucked Yoshi’s load out of him without anyone touching his cock. The emo moaned as his nut drooled onto the couch, and as Amelia watched her boyfriend’s sweet cunt getting pounded into submission, she sprayed the room again. She’d lost count of how many orgasms she’d had. She wasn’t sure how much more she could take of this, but as she looked at the blank, expressionless, submissive look on her boyfriend’s face, she knew she could watch this forever.
Mack was getting close. “I’m gonna cum in your hole, punk,” he roared.
Amelia stopped fapping. She had a better idea. She crawled to the edge of the couch and looked up at the mechanic, face up, tongue outstretched, fat tits on full display. She said the four words guaranteed to tip any man on earth over the edge into orgasm. “Cum on my face.”
As Mack stared at her red lipsticked mouth, his nuts began to boil. He’d always wanted to fuck a goth chick, and all the fantasies he’d harboured over the years sprang to life. He pulled his fat dick out of the emo’s pussy, jerked himself off, and took aim. “Here it comes,” he said, stroking his fat shaft. He sprayed her face.
Amelia’s face, neck and tits were plastered in thick, gooey cream. “Fuck,” she gasped, touching herself again, licking her lips. “You taste good.”
By now, the emo had regained what was left of his mind and had glued the pieces back together. He’d never been railed like that before. He kissed his girlfriend, sharing the mechanic’s second load as his gaping pussy continued to pulse and twitch.
“I gotta go,” said the mechanic. “It’s two o’clock in the morning. I had an awesome time with you night owls, but I’m an early bird, and this is way late for me. I’m gonna get going. Thanks for the beers, the music, and … everything else.”
The goth chick kept her distance, but the emo gave the mechanic a sweet hug. He looked up at the strong, long-haired ginger. “Thanks for fucking me tonight, daddy.”
Mack grinned. “See ya, punk.” After getting dressed and collecting his things, he left quietly, closing the emo’s apartment door behind him.
Tonight, there were no regrets.