When I pushed through the door, Greg was propped up in his bed, laughing at something appropriately stupid on the television. He only glanced to see if it was me before going back to something more important. I went to my chair and sat down. He didn't speak until the first commercial.

"You're late again," he said, staring at me with those steely eyes.

"Do you know how long it takes to get up here from school? I can't always get a ride."

"You get a ride today?" He asked, seeming almost concerned.

"Part of the way; I walked in from the gate."

"It only gives us a few hours," he said. "I liked it better when you came in the morning."

"Greg, I've got to go to school. I don't want to end up being a dummy," I said.

"No chance of that," Greg said.

"You do worry about your brain a lot," he added.

"Well, I at least want to get through high-school. I don't know if my brain is equipped for continuing on to college," I answered.

"Where are your books? Don't you have homework?"

"You think I'm lugging those fuckers all the way up here? Get real! I go in early and do the homework before class."

"You hitch all the way over here. You stay until seven and hitch home. Then you go to school early to do your homework?"

"Yeah, " I explained.

"I get up when my old man gets up. He gives me a ride to the corner, and that only leaves a mile and a half walk to school."

"The janitors open the doors at six-thirty and I have until eight to get my homework done if I don't fall asleep."

"It sounds like a long day to me," Greg said, clicking off the television and taking my hand after giving me the third degree.

"I get my bath tonight, you know," he said, leaning back in the bed as the motor lowered him to about a forty-five degree angle."

"I'm happy for you. How do they get you in the tub?" I asked, considering how he was strung up.

I'd already seen them unhook him once, and it required an engineering degree, not to mention three men and a great deal of caution. I couldn't imagine them wanting to do that very often. He pulled my hand up onto the cast and over to the bunched up sheet between his legs.

I'd created a monster, or at least I had encouraged one quite often, and now it was always the first thing he wanted from me. How he could make an impression like that on a bunched-up sheet, I don't have a clue, but it always seemed to be at attention for me when I got there.

"A nurse does it with a sponge. She pretends she doesn't notice what happens. A couple of times it has been a really nice chick. Maybe twenty-five, or so."

"I don't know why I bother if you have a stable up here."

"Well, it's embarrassing. If you take care of it then the problem won't come up. It will only take a minute believe me. I've had all day to think about you, and it's about ready."

"You know, I used to be able to last for a long time but now it just goes off. I mean it's really nice and feels good and all, but I'm so fast. Maybe it's the meds or something, eh?"

He seemed concerned about his hair-trigger.

"You couldn't even get it up last week," I reminded him.

"That's before someone got me up," he said. "I was really worried about that. The first bath I can remember, it never so much as twitched. She had that puppy in her hand, scrubbing it like she knew something should be happening, only it weren't."

"Wasn't," I corrected.

"That's what I said," he said. "I didn't feel anything down there."

"You were all doped-up," I said.

"I've been doped up before and it only made me want to fuck all the time," he said.

"Yeah, but those was party drugs. Different principle here.

"Yeah, well, it simply bypasses my mouth now and goes straight in the veins. Must be some good shit. Too bad I can't enjoy it."

"What happened to your girlfriend?" I asked.

"She broke up with me. She thought I was a dick. Can you imagine that?

Me, a dick?"

"Yeah," I choked, "I can't imagine that at all," not selling it, and looking up into his now sad eyes.

He used the back of my hand to rub himself through the sheet. My mouth always went dry at that point. I couldn't get within a foot of him when he was like that, and not have hot flashes and dry mouth.

Maybe Greg was my chemical of choice. Whatever he was, no one ever made me feel the way he made me feel. Even if he was only using me to scratch his itch; there was no way I was going to say no.

"So who were you doing it with over there?" I asked.

"Nobody!"

"Greg! I wasn't born yesterday."

"There was a place a guy I worked with went. They did lap dancing. I liked that okay, only you never got pussy."

"Just enough to get you all worked up," I said.

"No doubt. One would give head in a little hall next to the men's room if she liked you. I never knew whether the guys who were stopping to watch were watching her or me, you know. Anyway, I did that a couple of times but she quit after a few b js."

"Because of you?" I asked.

"I don't think it was me that time. My roommate had a girlfriend. She wasn't half-bad."

"What good did that do you?" I asked, already suspecting the answer.

"He didn't have a car. I drove him when he needed to go out. I always knew he wouldn't be back until he called to be picked up. I don't think he ever figured it out either. We worked together so there weren't that many chances. She said he was a lightweight compared to me but she still loved him. I was merely a good fuck. I don't think she even liked me."

"Why me, Greg? I mean, why not the nurse. Why not some girl you know from god knows where?"

He moved the sheet so my flesh and his flesh met for the first time that day. He put the sheet back once I was where he wanted me to be, but he didn't let go of my hand and this was to get my mouth off of my inquiring mind.

"You're different."

"Yeah, tell me about it. Just your basic house fag, eh?"

He looked at the ceiling and I could see the relaxation coming onto his face. He held my hand tight so it pressing very hard against him. I watched his moist lips separate some as his breath became heavy and he was making an ever so slight moaning sound. He pulled my hand even harder against his stiffness as he moaned out a sharp gush of air.

"Oh yeah!"

"Now you want me to do you?" I asked incredulously?

"I was going to do this as long as I was young, you know. Kid stuff. Kids do that kind of thing. Fool around and like that, but you had me thinking maybe stopping wasn't all that great an idea," he was panting when he leaned his head up to look at me.

"Greg, we never did anything. You acted like I had the plague," I complained as he dropped his head back down.

"You know, you still scare the hell out of me. You're coming up here every day, I hate that I can't wait for you to get here. I know I shouldn't feel like that about a guy, but you've always upset my applecart Martin, every time you're around! Well there, now you see what it does to me. It's not the way it's supposed to be. Little boys and little boys don't go together. Only when you're kids is that okay. It was supposed to end when we got older, like it did with the other guys."

He let go of my hand and leaned his head back over his pillow so he was looking more toward the headboard. I could feel him pulsing as his chest swelled and his muscles tightened. He was swollen up like just before he lost it. I knew by the way he reacted to my fingers, he was a stick of dynamite ready to go off. I wasn't in a hurry and preferred feeling the incredible activity stirring in his hardness.

His hips moved ever so slightly. I used my free hand to feel across to his strung up leg. It had been shaved and was like velvet. He was still ever so slightly tanned and he had the obligatory tan line from summer time fun. His skin was like no one else's skin I had ever felt. Doug's was of a similar delicate softness, but Doug was delicate everywhere all the time. Greg was only delicate to the touch just after the stimulation started and before it led him to the promised land.

Greg wasn't delicate. He was hard and tough, except now he was a captive audience that needed me to help him to feel alive. I was the only one that knew what he liked and how he liked it and everyone else had deserted him. He had been denied by those who had once loved to love him. Being strung up in a hospital isn't the doorway to fulfillment.

Well, it was for me and in turn, I shared my satisfaction with him. I'd admired him before for his lusty appetite and his ability to feed it. Knowing what I knew, it wasn't hard to get him going and to keep him going on those days when I was feeling particularly randy or devilish. Well, to say it wasn't hard was a misnomer of sorts. It was almost always hard while I was there and he always wanted me to know.

He snorted and groaned and blew billows of air against the headboard while churning as far and wide as he dared while rigged up the way he was. It left no doubt in my mind that he was completely lost in my hands. I saved other temptations for later so the stakes were raised as my visit went on. The first one was always worth the all-day wait and the discomfort the thought of it gave me in my classes.

"You have your driver's license yet?" he asked, looking at the dinner menu. "You think submarine sandwiches and chips sounds good? I'm getting my appetite back."

"God yeah! I haven't eaten since lunch. You going to give me a bite of yours?"

It was a shameless solicitation but I was hungry.

"Surely you jest? I only get three squares a day. You can eat any time you have a notion to."

"That's the problem. If I want to get up here I don't have time to stop. The only food places are in the other direction unless I eat downstairs and I can't afford that very often. I'm fine until I get home. There's always something in the fridge."

"You need a car and then I wouldn't be waiting for you all the time. You do have your license, don't you? Didn't someone ask you that once?"

"Thanks for letting me know what I need. You can jack yourself off from now on. You really get on my nerves some times, Greg. You're really a prick deep-down."

"Big prick if you please. Let's not understate things if you're going to be rude and bring my genitalia into our discussion. Does that mean I've got to blow myself too? I'm not like Herbie or Kent. I do have some dignity, you know. Although I'd probably go for myself if I had the chance."

"Yeah, right, the only reason you don't is because you can't," I said.

"Not because I haven't tried. So, you didn't answer me."

"Fuck you, Greg. I don't know why I waste my time. You never think of anyone but yourself. It gets old after awhile."

"Not true. How would you like to drive yourself home this very evening?"

"Yeah right. Why don't I just stay here and sleep with you," I said.

"Now, that makes me want to rethink what I was about to say. No, I'm going to say it anyway because I like making you feel bad. Open my nightstand."

I got up and walked around to the other side of the bed and opened the drawer to look at his wallet, papers, nail clippers, and an assortment of paraphernalia too numerous to mention.

"What?"

"Right on top."

"These keys to your heart?" I asked. "Sometimes, I've got my doubts that you even have one."

"You really make it hard to do anything nice for you, Martin. Why do you always think the worst of me?"

"Sorry. It somehow comes natural. What up with these keys?"

"My car is parked right below my window."

"Now I'm taking someone else's word for that but my mother rarely lies to me. It's the ugly green four door jobby, and don't bother saying anything mean to me about my taste, my old man got me a deal on it. Anyway, mom thought, since I'm not going to be driving for awhile, and you are such a "nice boy"," he said, rolling his eyes back in his head, "to come visit me every day, well, you get the idea. By the way I didn't tell her you only came up to blow me, so you don't have to avoid her because of your embarrassment."

"I only come up here for what? Excuse me?" I said, my usual indignant self.

"You're always accusing me of stuff. Tell me why shouldn't I make up stuff about you."

"Let's lay off of each other for a change, okay?" Greg continued.

"What are you saying, Greg?" I asked nervously, "Are you really suggesting that you're thinking about letting me drive your car?"

"Well Martin, as you can see, I'm in no condition to drive and letting my little brother tear up my car isn't really in my best interest. It needs to be driven and who better to drive it than the guy that spends so much time putting smiles on my face?"

I was flabbergasted. I stammered, "You're a real piece of work," leaning over to hug him.

While I hugged him, and with his car keys in my hand and with me in his, he relieved me of my most distracting problem. That is, he sucked me until I came, and then didn't come off until I was complete. Two very pleasant gifts in only a few minutes and the second had me weak in the knees and very grateful for his loving attention. He seemed unwilling to relent until he had me where he wanted me, which just happened to be where I needed to go. He took special care not to miss anything.

When he was finished with my dick, he rolled onto his back and his head disappeared over the back of the pillow again. I sensed something was wrong. I didn't know what it was. His had just completed an act of contrition and love that was the most logical course in my mind, but I didn't want to go there at this point.

"I think I'm turning queer," he said in a sorrowful voice after an appropriate lull.

"Greg, get real. You like sex. Who don't?"

"Doesn't," he corrected.

"I've done that to you twice and I've never done it all the way for anyone before, you know. Not since I was thirteen, anyway," he confessed. "Then I was curious about it."

"Who'd you do when you were thirteen?" I quizzed.

"Any German boy who wanted me to," he lamented. "That was then. This is now. I stopped that before I came back, or at least I thought I did. Guys there don't call you queer. They just call you. It's different over there. They're not scared of it."

"We love each other, it's okay," I said. "I won't tell anyone."

"Lots of people say it isn't," he said.

"Well, fuck them. Look around you. Look what people do to each other. No one seems to object to the cruelty and hate everywhere. I hardly think what we do hurts anyone enough to worry about it."

"Didn't hurt you at all. That's for sure. You trying to gag me or something? I can only eat so fast, you know."

"You are gross," I said, not liking the sound of it.

"I'm gross? You're the one doing it in my mouth," he said, but he was smiling as he lifted his head to peek at my reaction to his reaction. "If I am I am, that's all. I just don't want that."

"Am what?"

"You want me to say it, don't you? You would love for me to tell you I'm queer. I know you, Martin. You've been waiting for that since that first day. I still knew what you wanted. I knew what was on your mind."

"Yeah, well, I never wanted it from anyone before I met you. And if you knew what was on my mind, what the hell was on yours?"

"What I don't know is why you put up with my shit. You should have kicked my ass a long time ago, you know. I was way mean to you. I am so sorry about that. I mean that. It's only because you fucked with my brain all the time. I knew exactly what you wanted and it made my dick hard because I wanted it too. For some reason that pissed me off. I didn't want to feel that."

"Why do you need to put a label on it anyway? None of us are anything like they say. How can a word describe love? I could read the entire goddamn dictionary and never be able to describe what I feel for you. I could read all the greatest writers, Shakespeare, Whitman, King, and I'd never find the words that explain what it is that you make me feel." I said.

"You should be a writer. That was nice what you just said."

"Greg, you say a word and think it describes something but all that word is, is hateful. It's the way people make themselves feel like they're superior, only anyone that uses that word, or any word that diminishes others, they're totally inferior and always will be. I don't need a word. I don't need anything as long as I'm with you, and that's the god's honest truth. That's what I know about words. You taught me that."

"Martin, you know you should hate me. I'd ah hated you if it was reversed. I knew what you wanted. And I couldn't stand that thought either!"

"What's going to be is going to be, Greg. I don't think we could ever hate each other. Maybe it could have turned out different than this, but no matter what, we couldn't hate each other, ever," I said, moving back to the head of the bed to move his pillow so it was up under his head.

I was tired of looking at him holding his head up. I kissed his forehead, each eye, and then I hesitantly went for his lips.

He had no objection. It was always the hardest thing for me to do to Greg. I always feared he'd move his mouth out of the way just as I was about to find bliss in his lips.

This time, he didn't move his lips. Well, he did, but I'm not going to tell how absolutely wonderfully he did it. No matter what I said, it wouldn't be enough. I know the taste of his mouth was like heaven to me.

"Yeah, I got a feeling you're right about that. My dick got hard that day, right as I looked back over my shoulder at you. I knew we'd end up in bed together some day. I just never figure it'd be like this."

"I bet," I said.

I sat closer to the head of the bed and held his hand on my chest as we stared into the television later in the afternoon. My stomach started to growl and he kept giving me these weird looks. Eating once a day, and sometimes skipping that, my energy level was starting to crash. When I thought of the car waiting for me, it did perk me up a little. The almost hour walk would now be a five-minute drive.

At five thirty I could hear the food-cart in the hall as they dispensed the evening meals. My stomach started going nuts and I couldn't keep it quiet. He laughed each time it rumbled. He'd want me to stay even later since I could drive home, and my pockets were totally empty, I hoped the gas tank wasn't.

When the door opened, the airman brought in a tray overflowing with chips surrounding a foot long submarine sandwich. I mean it was a foot-long and stacked high.

"Oh man, that looks good," Greg said, grabbing half of the sandwich and starting to eat as I watched enviously without begging him for his food.

The orderly came back with another tray, equally overflowing with chips and milk and a big slice of yellow cake with a thick chocolate icing that called out to me. The second tray was set beside the first as Greg made room for it.

"Go ahead and eat. I asked the head nurse. She said you could have anything you want. What's that about anyway? You two an item or something? I'd ask her only she'd kick my ass. Oh yeah, I've got tomorrows menu in the drawer. You can pick out what you want," he said, smiling with some lettuce fowling up his front two teeth.

"God, I'm starved," I said.

"Tell me about it," he said, reaching for the second-half of his sandwich.

Some days everything just works out really good. This was one of those days for me. It was what made life worth living. Even if I only got a really good day once in awhile, it would have been worth the wait if it was anything like that day, but of course every day was like that day as long as I had Greg to myself.

It was the most amazing time in my life. I had someone and I imagined he had me.

The car was full of gas, fully insured, and I had wheels for the first time in my life, and orders not to get carried away. I felt the steering wheel carefully, knowing my loves hands held it before me. I could smell him in there but I had to stay awake until I got home. It had been a very long day.

Oh yeah, the bath that night, no way he was going to get it up once I was finished with him. I really had a lot of energy after dinner and then I woke him up for a long goodbye before I left him.


Send Rick an email at [email protected]

On to Chapter Forty-Four

Back to Chapter Forty-Two

Chapter Index

Rick Beck Home Page

"Discovering Love" Copyright © 1 September 1997 OLYMPIA50. All rights reserved.
    This work may not be duplicated in any form (physical, electronic, audio, or otherwise) without the author's written permission. All applicable copyright laws apply. All individuals depicted are fictional with any resemblance to real persons being purely coincidental.

Home Page | Authors | Stories by the Writer Suggested Reading | Suggested Viewing | Links Privacy Policy | Terms of Service Send a Comment All Site Content © 2003 - 2024 Tarheel Writer unless otherwise noted Layout © 2003 - 2024 Tarheel Writer