A gay story: Life Imitates Art It had been a long day. I’d arrived in Sydney on an early flight Thursday morning and spent most of the day in meetings.
I was tired and hungry, but the thing I needed most right now was a drink, swiftly followed by a shower.
I’d arranged to stay at a friend’s apartment, or more accurately my wife’s friend’s partner’s place. Hotels can be so soul-crushing week after week and I’d jumped at the chance when it was offered a few weeks earlier.
My wife’s friend Lyle shared an apartment part-time with his partner David. Lyle also had a house out of town and he went back there Thursday to Sunday. David said he didn’t mind at all if I stayed when Lyle wasn’t there, but that he was going to be home late as he was going out for a work dinner. We teed up the details via email.
I took the train to David’s place, picking up some Thai food and a bottle of wine on the way. The spare key was under the matt as arranged and I let myself in.
The apartment was immaculate and stylish as I knew it would be. The furniture was vintage and tasteful, but not ostentatious. David obviously had an eye for design. There were a lot of paintings and drawings on the walls, some in frames, others simply pinned up. Many were life drawings, mostly male nudes in charcoal. Some in slightly erotic poses, but again, tasteful. I recalled hearing that David liked to draw. Some of these could be his, I thought.
I ducked into the kitchen and put my takeout on the bench before continuing my exploration of the apartment.
I found the spare room as described in the email with a towel set out for me at the foot of the bed. The room had an en-suite. Small but functional and immaculately clean. I dropped my bags in the bedroom and went back to the kitchen.
I ate the Thai food straight out of the container at the kitchen table. A couple of generous glasses of wine later, and my need for a shower could no longer be ignored.
I undressed in the spare room and went into the en-suite to shower. It took me a minute to adjust the temperature to my liking, which was fiddly. One millimetre to the right and I was scorched, one to the left, frozen, but I got there in the end. I appreciated the powerful water pressure and the shower helped me relax from the day. I closed my eyes and put my face up to feel the warm jets gush over me as the shower screen gradually misted over.
I minute or two later I was snapped out of my reverie when I heard the front door clicking closed. David must be back early. I was enjoying the shower, but yelled out “Hey David, just taking a shower. I’ll be out in a few minutes.”
“No worries take your time,” came the reply yelled from the hallway. I spent a few more minutes under the steaming spray, before stepping out of the shower and drying off. I hung the towel on the rail, opened the door and returned to the bedroom to get dressed.
As I padded, naked across the bedroom floor, David happened to pass the open doorway and my movement caught his eye. He turned his head, breaking his stride with surprise. In a millisecond he took in my nudity, eyes flicking over my body. “Oh, I’m sorry!” he exclaimed.
“That’s ok, I left the door open,” I said.
He leaned against the doorframe. “Did you work out how to use the shower? I meant to leave a note. It’s a bit fiddly,” he said apologetically. “Getting the temperature right, I mean.”
“Yeah I worked it out,” I said. There was a slightly awkward pause. “I better get dressed,” I said.
“No need to hurry,” he said. “I have a penchant for male nudes in the house.”
I laughed. “I noticed,” scanning the artwork on the spare room walls.
“Maybe I could draw you,” he said. “Save you having to put your clothes back on.” I laughed again. “Seriously,” he said. “You have an interesting form.”
“Well not sure if that’s a compliment, but thanks… I guess,” I replied, striking a pose to try and overcome my embarrassment.
“No, no, no,” said David. “Not like that. Here, come with me.” He stepped toward me, took my forearm and led me into the living room. “There, on the chaise,” he said, pointing. “Back in a sec.” David disappeared into the next room and I heard drawers opening and closing, boxes clicking open and closed. He returned with paper, charcoal and an easel, which he proceeded to set up a few metres from the chaise.
“I guess this is actually happening then,” I said.
“Oh yes, it’s happening,” said David. “Now sit back a bit against the cushions. Relax! Put one foot up on the chaise. Not that one! The other one. Now rest your right arm on your knee and let your forearm drop down. I said relax, you look like Pinnochio! That’s better. Now put your head back a little. Yes. Close your eyes, but not fully. Yes, that’s good. I want you to look like you’re feeling pleasure. That’s not pleasure! Imagine someone is sucking your cock.”
“Jesus!” I exclaimed. “Sucking my cock? Careful what you ask for!”
He stopped drawing. “And what am I in danger of receiving?” he asked, looking me in the eye, and then letting his gaze slowly move across my chest, down the light fuzz in the centre of my abdomen and settling on my manicured manhood.
I felt myself tingling with arousal as he drank in my body, and my blood began to flow in ways that surprised me. I looked down at myself, powerless to prevent my engorgement, shaft lengthening, girth increasing, prick lifting off inevitably skyward. A few moments later I was fully, gloriously erect.
“My my. Impressive,” said David. “I might need to get a bigger piece of paper.” He put down his charcoal. “On second thoughts…” he trailed off as he stepped across the floor to the chaise and kneeled beside me, leaning in to study my tumescence more closely. “It really is rather tremendous,” he said. He reached out a finger to trace the veins that popped along my shaft. “Mind if I…” he trailed off again as he took the shaft in his hand firmly. “Like an absolute rock. My poor boy, we can’t leave you in this condition.”
He began to stroke me up and down causing me to exhale deeply, and open my legs wider. David cupped my hairless balls with his free hand, squeezing gently. He spat onto the end of my cock as he pumped me a little faster, and rotated his palm across the head on the upstroke. “Good boy,” he said, as I let out a moan. Slowly but surely he increased the rhythm and I writhed in pleasure, pushing my hips towards him. I could feel my climax approaching. “I’m not stopping until you shoot that load, my boy. That’s right.” His hand pumped quickly and my balls tightened as the momentum gathered. Then suddenly my body spasmed as hot jets flew, covering my belly and chest with slickness. Jet after jet until the spurts subsided. “There’s a good boy,” said David, reducing the tempo to milk the last drops of cum from the end of my cock. The spasms subsided and I sank into a deep relaxation, breath slowing, my cock still hard in David’s hand.
“Thank you,” I said. “Think I needed that.”
“You did indeed, my boy,” said David standing up. “You can shower again if you like.” He placed a box of tissues beside me and left the room.
As my cock softened, it seeped the last remaining juices onto my thigh. I stared at the ceiling, contemplating what had just happened. “Jesus,” I said quietly to myself. I continued to replay the evening’s events as I showered again and got into bed, feelings of arousal returning. I fell asleep easily in a state of utter relaxation.