A gay story: Racing Into the Night Ch. 02 Racing Into the Night
Chapter 2 – When She Wasn’t Looking
——
Rachael and I sat across from each other in this café, this moment separate from time, for what felt like hours. I had ordered for us, and now we waited on our coffees, and there was nothing being said between us. I wish I could say we were looking at each other, searching each other’s eyes for something that resembled…understanding. But we weren’t. She was staring at the divorce papers, yet to be signed, and I, the tiles on the café floor.
Bits of conversations tried to bubble up out of me, and died as easily as they came whenever I caught Rachael’s withering stare. I offered a weak smile, only perfunctorily. Rachael’s eyes milled about the interior of the café; I’d never been here before and neither had she. It meant nothing to us.
Before terribly long, I heard her clear her throat. “Jonathan,” she said. I looked up–er, down, rather–at her. “I know it’ll just…fucking kill me to ask, but my curiosity is getting the better of me. You and–and Aaron. When we caught you…that wasn’t the only time, was it?”
I swallowed hard. I was hoping she would’ve never asked. “Well…what good would it do to know?”
She shrugged, and a scowl danced on her lips. “My therapist suggested exposure therapy to the things I fear.” She spread her hands as if nonchalantly. “You know; heights, the ocean, my husband cheating on me. Those kinds of things. So.” She tented her fingers and looked right at me. “Tell me, Jonathan. What did you do with that man when I wasn’t looking?”
——
As it turned out, I wouldn’t see Mr. Rodriguez again for around three months.
Our hookup at that December party felt all but forgotten when the months rolled by and I realised he had no way to contact me directly. Sure, he could’ve gotten my number or something, from Rachael, but maybe he had more sense than that. It was wrong to keep coming back to it, and I knew that. It was wrong of me to keep returning to that night in December in my most illicit memories; to keep using the phantom sensation of Mr. Rodriguez’s mouth around my cock as jack-off fuel to help put myself to sleep.
But god, was it good. Even when I was fucking Rachael in our bed, in our shared bedroom, Mr. Rodriguez’s face haunted me. His languorous, wolfish grin. The way his lips fit neatly around my cock. His eyes, so much like Rachael’s, that it all blurred in my vision whenever I took Rachael for my own. Staring, panting, groaning in her face while I fucked her. I became a desperate animal, and Rachael responded in kind, matching her movements to mine.
She took it like a champion when my pace picked up and I was close to losing my umpteenth load in her guts. I lost my words. I lost control. But thankfully, I never called out Mr. Rodriguez’s name when the moment came that I was blowing a load in my wife. My orgasm rocked me as it spilled out of my cock and into Rachael’s battered hole. I was barely aware of her own orgasm, making her hips flail about. She kissed me as I came down from my high, but I couldn’t reciprocate.
Rachael chalked it up to my tiredness, having sapped my strength while I bred her like a dangerous creature. I just couldn’t look her in the eye, for in that moment of orgasm, Mr. Rodriguez’s face floated up to my imagination, and I was powerless to stop it.
I wanted to fuck him. I wanted to break him. I wanted him to be full with my load, in the ass this time. And it made me feel sick.
Life returned to normal in the coming months, but I did not. Sometimes the need to jack off to Mr. Rodriguez’s ghostly image would overtake me, and I’d resort to jacking off in the car before returning home. Thankfully, I worked the late shift at the restaurant, so I could always find a dark spot to be alone. I could shed my uniform down to the jockstrap and, bathed in shadows, I could become that animal. I could become that version of myself I wanted so badly to hide away.
On one particularly late night, when I had already messaged Rachael that I was going to be coming home late, I pulled into an unused open area in the shadow of a building under construction downtown. A common sight in Ottawa.
Shivering with anticipation and cold, I loosened my cook’s uniform top just a bit. I could’ve been in early if I’d returned home like a good husband. But with the extra time I had bought, I decided to enjoy myself. Slowly, I undid the first three buttons of my smock, just enough so I could peel off my grey shirt underneath. It was damp, rich with my musk from a long, long day of work.
The heady scent mixed with my desperate breath and filled my car, clouding the windshield. There was no going back now, as I toyed with my perpetually puffy, dark nipples. I squeezed my soft man tits, rolling them around like I was kneading dough, and the sensation travelled down to my toes. Electric.
I had no idea how long I’d been toying with myself for, but it was at least long enough to have taken my cock out from my jockstrap. The smell of my cock, my musk, after a tiring day was making me drunk, yet hyper focused.
All that to say my soul jumped out of my body when I heard the knock on my window.
“Police. Open up.”
Fuck. Fuck! Fuck me fuck. I tucked my cock away but figured I had no time to put my shirt back on before the cop knocked again. Fuck. What a fucking predicament. I steeled myself for the awkward dialogue I was about to enter, and opened the door.
…only to find, not a cop, but the cross-armed form of Mr. Rodriguez standing less than a metre from my door. Again with that bastard grin. At first I breathed out relief…and then I realised, I was once again exposed to Aaron Rodriguez.
“Hey, Mr. Aguinaldo,” he said, an attractive laugh coming into his voice. “Nice seeing you here.”
“Mr. Rodriguez,” I said breathlessly. “How…why?”
I looked around the parking lot, and sure enough, it was the same as before. No streetlights to expose my location. There had been nobody here but me…and now, him, I guess. He shrugged, and in his casual clothes, I could better see his body. He was toned, wiry, and looked like he was once an athlete. I hated how badly I wanted to run my hands over him.
“I recognised your car,” he said as though it was the simplest of explanations. “Now imagine me seeing your car, at this hour of night, disappear into the parking lot of the construction site right across from my living room window. I call that serendipity, Mr. Aguinaldo. Destiny.”
My face flushed with heat. His living room window…that meant he lived just a few blocks from where I worked. Fuck! The amount of times I could’ve already run into him without knowing.
“I…that stuff doesn’t exist,” I mumbled. Mr. Rodriguez just laughed, just stood there in a faded Toronto Blue Jays shirt and a pair of sweat shorts that hid so very little. Even in the minuscule light of this parking lot, he was already filling out. I could see a stain forming where his bulbous cock head must’ve rested.
He put his hands on his hips. “So. What are you up to?” The question felt so fucking stupid; like he didn’t already know. I gestured around me, the words failing to come forth. All approaches at subtlety gone, he squeezed his cock through his pants. It must’ve been six inches, hard, and as he squeezed, I could see a fat pair of nuts at its base, too. I salivated, despite myself.
Here he stood before me, offering a choice unspoken. All of my attempts at pushing him and our encounter out of my mind for the last three months now lay shattered before me. I hated myself, hated how I couldn’t resist him. Wordlessly, I hit the unlock button on my car, and the sound of the passenger doors unlocking was reverberant in the silence.
Mr. Rodriguez smiled, raised an eyebrow, and took the hint. He came around the hood of the car, easing himself into my passenger side. When I closed the door again and the lights shut off, there was nothing but the two of us…and my cock. His cock. I was going insane.
“Mr. Rodriguez…” I still had the fucking gall to mumble out; “what happened that night…it…it was a mistake.” A mistake. I heard my own voice in my head cackling back at me. “A lapse in judgement. It shouldn’t….” Happen again.
But here he sat. In my car. With his dick hard as a rock and leaking a stain into his pants.
“Forgive me for that night, Mr. Aguinaldo,” he said, and it actually sounded…serious? “No, that was kinda…well, really uncool of me. I barely thought. I barely asked you. I was just so unbelievably horny, I….” He exhaled. “When I saw you for the first time, you were like…it was like…you’d stepped out of a dream.”
His words rocked me to my core. He kept on going, certainly taking in my surprise. “I got drunk. I was so horny for you, that I tried to rope in my wife.” A scoffing sigh escaped his throat. “Nitya…she was a freak when we first started dating, but now, ten years, two kids later, shit’s tough. Like asking a rock to cry. Then you were there….” He shook his head. “Forgive me, man. I should’ve properly asked you. But fuck…the sight of you. You’re fucking…god!”
I could feel my face flush with heat. “Rachael is the only one I know that likes big men.”
Mr. Rodriguez grinned, and I wanted to melt. “Whoever says they don’t like big men, like you, Mr. Aguinaldo, is missing a screw.” We shared a laugh, and he put his hand on my forearm. He prodded me with a finger, stroking my exposed arm hairs. I was suddenly keenly aware of the fact that I was topless, and my smock was stripped down to my waist.
“But still…” he was saying, his voice dropping low, lower than before; “I should’ve asked for your permission before I sucked your fat, delicious brown cock.” My breath escaped in a shudder. “I’ll always ask for permission next time. Sound good?”
“Next time?” I baulked at him. “Mr. Rodriguez, forgive me–there won’t be a next time.”
His smile was sad…no…mischievous. “Mr. Aguinaldo…I’m sitting in your car. You let me in. I’m afraid I’m getting mixed signals here?”
[zilla_likes]