In the corridor, Mr. Puerta voice could be heard questioning one of the shipping managers. Logan knew it meant a container was late in delivery, or worse misplaced on the dock. He heard the rise in volume and pitch, then a silence he knew was Mr. Puerta trying to calm himself. He had seen it once before, the getting angry about some mistake or failure to perform then the falling silent, a hand rubbing over the face then a deep breath before giving directions in a calm tone to make things right.
Logan had been in the accounting office only a couple of weeks when an invoice went missing in the system. He had been checking shipping receipts for Ms. Henderson, when Mr. Puerta stormed into their office area, an open plan office with two private offices along one side. He was one of three working under Ms. Jean Henderson and Mr. Gabriel Portillo, who occupied the two offices. Mr. Puerta had called across the open office area bringing out both, Mr. Portillo and Ms. Henderson. There were the exclamations about the missing invoice, then tough questions to them. Then the silence, as Mr. Puerta calmed himself.
Logan took it as a warning. He was working as an intern in accounting, and he had to be precise, careful with the documents, and more importantly, the numbers.
He had been with Neptune Shipping for almost two years, ever since graduating from college. It was not what he expected when in college, instead he saw himself in some big accounting firm in Atlanta or Charlotte or, maybe, New York. During the week when companies came on campus looking to lure the best to their companies, he had talked with Neptune, his curiosity getting the best of him. Their offer seemed too good, the benefits right in line with the biggest accounting firms. He knew very little about Jacksonville, and worried about what the city would offer a young gay man coming out of college. The top of his class was getting the attention, and even though he was still in the top 90 percentile, he was not one of the very top. In the end, he found himself back at Neptune taking the position.
Logan had a nice one-bedroom that had a view of the St. Johns River, a new Jeep, a four-door Wrangler, which was perfect for cruising the beaches and around town, and a job that he had to admit was good, as long as Mr. Puerta was happy. He had not known the city, having to admit he was disappointed to find it was not as large and diverse as he had been led to believe. There were a couple of gay bars, but no large community or business district. He did met guys, going out regularly on dates or weekend hookups that exhausted his desire for someone.
Logan finished with shipping receipts from the day before and saw it was nearly twelve thirty. He usually brought something for lunch, but in a rush to leave after waking late, he had decided he would just eat out. It wasn’t convenient, a bit of a drive to the west to get to a commercial area with restaurants but getting out of the office at times was good for his concentration. The few minutes away from the computer screen gave his eyes a break and he enjoyed the fresh air of riding in the Jeep with the top down and doors off.
He found himself pulling into one of his favorite restaurants, a Jamaican place just south of the parkway, slipping into an empty space between another Jeep like his, only orange instead of the dark red he had chosen, and a Dodge truck. It amused him how the city had so many Jeeps and trucks, the car seemingly a dying breed among the residents.
The restaurant was crowded, and he had to wait a few minutes before being seated. The waitress took his order and he sat back, scanning the room. He looked at the diversity of the patrons, seeing a makeup of the city within the dining area. Young, old, various skin tones and when he focused on the voices coming from nearby tables he heard the dialects of other cultures, Spanish, Jamaican, and one he couldn’t place. Then he looked at the men. Those with muscular bodies revealed in skintight shirts, or the ones with a shirt over a t-shirt, open and loose concealing a lean body, or the ones in dress attire, button down shirts or polos with khaki pants. Which, if any, were gay, or at best, willing to fuck around with a guy? Which were the romantic type, willing to go out on dates or just pile up on a sofa and watch television? He sized them up, made judgements on what they could be like, if only. The blonde in the corner with two women who looked like he just came off duty being a lifeguard at the beach. The dark-skinned, dark-haired guy at a table with three other guys, all wearing t-shirts advertising a landscape company. The redhead in a tank top and shorts, someone on vacation he assumed.
It never failed. To be out in public and feeling a bit lonely, he sized up one guy after the next. He sat back wondering if he could wait two days for Friday to arrive, or if he should go out to the bar tonight. He could go for a drink and the atmosphere. Just being around other gay guys with the silly bar conversations and flirting was sometimes enough to alleviate the loneliness.
The waitress arrived at his table with his lunch, and he sat up and dug in, his hunger increased by the smell of the cooked meat rising from the plate. He ate slowly, savoring each bite and enjoying the time out of the office. The jerk chicken and coconut rice, then a bite of festival, each one slowly sating his appetite. There was movement and he saw the landscape guys get up and head to the front door. Three women moved to the table, not waiting for it to be cleared. While the women stood around it, waiting for a busboy, he had a clear view to the next table. He saw it had two guys and a woman having lunch. The guys sat with their backs to him, and it was the one on the right that had his attention.
Dylan.
It wasn’t Dylan, couldn’t be and Logan knew it. But the curly brown hair and the shape of the upper body. The narrow shoulders and a neck slightly too long and even the skin tone was right. It could be Dylan or his doppelganger.
Logan tried not to think of Dylan, but he could never let him go, not entirely. He hadn’t seen him since the summer after his junior year in college. The Williams packed up and moved away and they no longer saw each other when he was home for the summer or over Christmas. It had been awkward those three years during college, how they were not the same, not after what happened during the summer of ’14. Six years and it still haunted Logan, made him think of what could have been if only…
The Two Best Friends in the World
Logan slipped through the gate that connected the rear yards of the two families, pushing his bicycle until he stood at the screen door of the William’s house. Derek, Dylan’s older brother, was on the porch tinkering with his radio-controlled plane.
“Hey, is Dylan inside?”
“Yeah, he was changing clothes. He’ll be out in a minute.”
“What is wrong with your plane?”
“Nothing; just cleaning it up.”
“You going to the park to fly it?”
“Nah, I’m just killing time until Julie gets here.”
“Oh,” Logan replied.
Julie was Derek’s girlfriend and being a year older had a driver’s license. Derek was only fifteen, but still, being two years older he looked so mature to Logan’s eyes. The difference between being thirteen and fifteen seemed enormous. Derek had the same curly brown hair, but had brown eyes like his mom, instead of the blue like Dylan and their dad. But he played football and baseball and his body was changing, some muscle definition and features more angular, masculine. Even his voice was different. Logan felt something toward Derek, an attraction he feared to dwell upon. But it was Dylan he felt this attraction toward the most. At times he found himself staring at his friend, wondering if Dylan ever felt the same about him. They were best friends, had been since kindergarten, but Logan knew he felt something different toward Dylan than mere friendship. He knew the label for it, this attraction between two boys, but he dared not say it. Jasper was a small town and gossip traveled fast, and he knew if he got labeled, it would be only a matter of time before it got back to his parents.
The back door swung open, and Dylan strolled out dressed in his customary white t-shirt and cargo shorts. The shirt hung on his skinny body and Logan knew he looked the same.
“Hey, let’s ride to the garden shop. Someone caught a raccoon and have it at the store,” Dylan exclaimed as he pushed through the screen door.
“Really? Okay,” Logan replied as he straddled his bicycle and watched Dylan pick his up and do the same.
“Let’s go,” Dylan uttered, and they headed to the drive then the road out front.
They rode down Carney Street heading west toward downtown. The garden center was on the outskirts of it, just to the south. Standing on the pedals, the boys sped up until they could feel the wind in their faces, then they sat and coasted.
“I saw Mary last night,” said Dylan.
Logan knew Dylan liked to flirt with the girls and bragged about those that flirted back. Mary had been the latest. They announced at school they were boyfriend/girlfriend and sat next to each other in the cafeteria, holding hands when finished eating. Since finishing eighth grade, Dylan had not been able to see Mary as often and Logan was secretly glad of it. Therefore, he was disappointed to hear of their meeting.
“She let me put my hand down there,” said Dylan, “while we were kissing.”
Logan listened to Dylan go on about their touching and kissing, knowing there was some exaggeration. He also knew they hadn’t done anything of real consequence. What could he feel through her jeans? Not much, he was sure.
“…she put her hand on me…”
Logan suddenly came back to what Dylan was saying and pictured Mary’s hand touching him. The hand going down the stomach until resting on the crotch. He wanted it to be him. He wanted to be the one touching Dylan in such a manner. And he wanted Dylan to touch him the same way.
He tried to imagine what could happen next and he had vague images of doing those things the other boys said in a derogatory manner when calling someone a faggot.
A horn blew behind them and they realized a car had come up, wanting them to get out of the middle of road.
“Let’s cut over to Savannah to cross over to Main,” said Logan, leading Dylan to the next intersection, turning left.
Logan’s True Awakening
Dylan attacked, catching Logan from behind, shooting him in the back. Logan exploded, spraying red matter in all directions.
“Damn, you’re cheating,” Logan exclaimed as the game showed he had to start over.
“I’m not cheating. You just suck,” Dylan laughed then playfully pushed Logan to his side.
Logan pushed back and suddenly Dylan was on top of him holding down each wrist.
“Say uncle.”
“No.”
The pressure on each wrist increased, then a knee came up between Logan’s thighs, pushing tight against his crotch. He felt aroused by the contact.
“Say uncle,” Dylan repeated.
“NO,” Logan replied and the two of them laughed as he struggled to get free.
Logan couldn’t help but feel it. His arousal from feeling Dylan on top of him. He had no compunction about what he was feeling. He knew he was gay, had for some time, also knew it was Dylan, his best friend, that he was most attracted. His desire for Dylan was outweighed by his disappointment in him, for Dylan never indicated in any way he felt anything but friendship toward him. When it came to talking of attraction, of desire, Dylan talked about Becky Harris. Becky Harris, cheerleader, Miss Popularity, and the daughter of Jim Matthews, the owner of the Chevrolet-Buick dealership in town. She was always dressed up and wearing some expensive perfume and had all the other pretty girls surrounding her. Logan knew Becky thought of it differently than he, for he considered it just sucking up and being leaches to her family’s wealth. But then again, he hated her for being the one Dylan dated.
“Does your mom have the preparations for your party done?” asked Dylan.
It was the middle of April, and his fourteenth birthday was just a week away, on the twenty-third. There would be a party, with classmates and cousins in attendance. With the cousins, would come his aunts and uncles. He knew it would be more than just his birthday party, for he heard his father planning a cookout for that night.
Fourteen.
Logan didn’t know what to make of it. He wasn’t old enough to get a learner’s permit to drive, but he felt like he was too old be stuck riding his bicycle all the time. Then there was the image he saw in the mirror and in photos taken by his mother or friends. A boy wanting to be a man. His black hair seemed to have gotten thicker and more unruly. It wasn’t curly like Dylan’s but wavy and wouldn’t stay combed. But what really troubled him was how he seemed so out of proportion. His legs and arms seemed far too long, each too skinny and he felt his head was too large and neck too long. He looked skinnier, dorkier, and along his chin the ache embarrassed him until he scrubbed with facial cleaners every morning and night.
In moments of honesty, he looked at Logan and knew the same growth spurts and changes were happening to him as well, as it was for all the boys in his class. He wasn’t alone and heard what the adults said, about the ‘awkward year’s’ and puberty. Despite it all, he still felt different from the others, for along with his going through these changes was a stronger desire for physical contact with someone. He longed to hold hands with someone, to give them a kiss on the lips or to caress their cheek or neck, and he wanted to explore their body, like he did his own late at night. He wanted the affections of another. Looking at Dylan moving to sit back against his bed, he wanted it to be him.
Logan had discovered so much in the last year but still felt naïve and stupid. He didn’t understand why he felt the way he did, nor what it would be like to find satisfaction. The small town kept him closeted, afraid to admit to anyone he was gay, so any opportunity would elude him. There were two boys in his class that gave him hope he wasn’t the only one, and in the ninth grade, one year above him, there was Joshua. Blonde and brown eyed and tall and athletic and so attractive it took his breath away when they happen to pass in the hall. Up until a year ago, Joshua had been just another one of the older boys, but over the last summer break it was like he took some elixir and transformed. The girls threw themselves at him shamelessly, and there were times he wondered if he should do the same, just to see if there was a possibility. But he was a kid, still thirteen and Joshua was fifteen, had been since last January and Logan had seen him driving around town with one of his parents in the passenger seat.
In his own class there was Joey and Brian. There was something about each one that drew his attention. Some nuance in their personality that gave him pause, then at other times, hope he wasn’t the only one. He tried to gain the courage to approach one of them, to feel them out, but he just couldn’t make himself do it.
For in the end, it was Dylan he wanted.
“Hey, wake up. You want to play again, or not?” asked Dylan.
“Yeah…sure. Start up another game,” Logan replied.
“Geez, you zone out sometimes…” Dylan uttered as he hit play.
Almost a Man
“Let’s go to the grill,” said Dylan as he changed the CD.
“Okay,” Logan replied, pulling away from the light, shifting through the gears.
Logan drove the six-year-old Civic through town. It was his sixteenth birthday last weekend, and the car was from his parents. It had belonged to one of his dad’s workers, who traded up to an Accord. There was a slight jerk when Logan went from second to third.
“Oops,” Logan uttered, making the two of them grin at each other.
“Still working on shifting smoothly?”
“If I think about it, I goof it up, but if I just do it, then no problem.”
“At least you have wheels. I don’t know how I’ll endure the next three months,” said Dylan referring to his own sixteenth.
“Tina has her license.”
“You know how lame it is to be chauffeured by your girlfriend?”
“She doesn’t care.”
“No, she loves it. But it sucks. A guy should be taking care of his girl, not the other way around.”
“You’re sexist.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Yes, you are.”
“Okay, maybe a little, but…”
“Hey, isn’t that Joshua?” asked Logan, pointing at Joshua walking across the street.
“Yeah, it’s him,” Dylan replied, his tone low.
Logan pulled into a space on the street amazed the downtown was so busy. Since the coffee shop opened, then the café, the town was seeing a rejuvenation many never expected. Now there was a used bookstore, a women’s boutique shop, and another restaurant, Mack’s Grill and Tavern. The old hardware store was being renovated for someone planned to reopen it.
“Come on, let’s go get a burger,” Logan exclaimed as he climbed out.
Dylan fell in beside Logan as they strolled down the sidewalk. They glanced into the coffee shop to see if they knew anyone, then Dylan rapped his knuckles on the mailbox on the sidewalk. As they neared the grill, they heard the music coming from the speakers mounted under the canopy: “Drops of Jupiter” by Train. They began to sing along when the chorus came on.
Logan opened the door and let Dylan enter first. Unsurprisingly, the dining room was crowded. The music was louder, and it seemed to make everyone inside talk louder. The place was animated with the sound of everything and the hustle of wait staff going from table to table.
“It’ll be thirty minutes at least,” said a waiter as he passed them carrying a tray of drinks.
“Jesus, this place is rocking it,” said Dylan as he leaned against the wall.
“Tell me about it,” replied Logan as he scanned the room. He could never admit it to Dylan, but he was looking for Joshua. A hand was waving, and he realized it was Joshua trying to get his attention. “I’ll be back in a sec,’ said Logan, not waiting for Dylan to ask where he was going.
Logan moved through the busy dining room until he was standing at the table where Joshua was seated.
“Hey, you guys want to join me?” asked Joshua.
“Seriously?”
“Yeah. Brian and Keith bailed on me. Wave Dylan over and join me.”
Logan turned and saw Dylan watching him. His expression was serious and for a moment he wondered if it were jealously, dismissing the idea immediately. No way was Dylan jealous of anything he might do. He waved him over, then took the chair next to Joshua. Dylan came to the table and hesitated.
“Sit, sit,” said Joshua, motioning to the two empty chairs, one directly across from him and the other next to him and directly across from Logan. Dylan chose the one next to Logan and across from him.
“Joshua’s friends bailed on him so he said we could join him,” said Logan.
“I see,” replied Dylan.
The music changed, “Don’t Leave Me This Way” by The Communards played over the sound system filling the dining room with its beat. None of the guys knew the song’s name or the artist, but they recognized the rhythm of it and soon were tapping fingers on the table or a foot on the floor.
“Who is this?” asked Joshua, turning to Logan.
“I have no idea, but I like it. Dylan, do you know it?” said Logan.
“No,” replied Dylan.
“I wish I could go to Atlanta one weekend and get into one of the dance clubs. There is one in Midtown that sounds great,” said Joshua.
“You can’t get into a club. You have to be twenty-one,” said Logan.
“Not this one. You can get in at eighteen. They just mark your hand or something to let the bartenders know not to serve you.”
“What kind of club is it?” asked Dylan.
“A dance club,” Joshua replied.
“What is it called?”
“I…don’t remember.”
Logan felt the tension between Joshua and Dylan and wondered if there had been some clash between them, he wasn’t aware.
“Hey, what can I get you guys to drink?” asked the waitress, as she came up to their table.
Empty plates were pushed back, and glasses refilled again. The restaurant was finally slowing down with the time nearing two o’clock. Logan knew something was wrong between Dylan and Joshua, and at times it seemed Joshua was deliberately pushing him. But he couldn’t help but enjoy sitting with Joshua. He was seventeen, a junior and a year older. And he was taking him seriously, asking about his plans after graduating. He told of getting set to go to college and wanting to major in art or maybe, architecture.
“Architecture? You never mentioned that before,” said Dylan.
“Well, I’m not sure. They say the structures classes are difficult and I’ll have to go at least five years to get a degree,” replied Logan.
“Five years?”
“Yeah, four years is only an arts degree, not a bachelor’s degree. That takes five years.”
“Wow.”
“We should get going. I have a date with Tina tonight,” said Dylan climbing to his feet.
“What about you? What are you doing?” asked Joshua, looking at Logan.
“I…nothing, why?”’
“Some of us are going to the new Batman movie.”
“We were going to go…” Dylan began to reply, only to be interrupted by Logan.
“I’d love to go; what time?”
The house was quiet, only the sound of the air conditioning breaking the unbearable silence. Logan lay on his bed feeling frustrated, as if something he wanted so desperately, something nearly in his grasp was suddenly and inexplicably had been taken away. He was near tears, feeling as if he was trapped by events out of his control and by the very place, he called home.
He had been giddy, and so expectant of a night with Joshua, he had been devastated when another guy joined them. Mitch was from Atkinson County, and the son of a dairy farmer and it was obvious he was someone Joshua had been trying to get to come out with him for some time. Joshua led the five of them into the theater and let Logan, then Brian and Keith, go first into the aisle, then he stepped in keeping Mitch separate from them. Once seated, Logan found himself on the far end. Brian and Keith talked among themselves, and Joshua was turned to Mitch, and it made Logan feel his loneliness, the separation from everyone else, including Dylan.
Why can’t Dylan like me instead of Tina? Logan asked himself, almost uttering the question aloud. He felt tears trickle down the side of his face, wondering if he could endure it until he graduated. College had to be better. He just had to bide his time.
The Graduate
Logan stood next to Dylan, their graduation caps held up, as their parents took pictures. They smiled and joked around, then pulled away, saying they wanted to find their friends about the party at Tyler’s house that night.
They walked side by side, but the distance between them grew the further away from their parents they got. For the last two years, they had grown apart. When it began, Logan had no idea, but sometime in the last month or so of tenth grade, Logan grew distant, spending more time with Amy…no wait, it was Tina in the tenth grade. Amy was the eleventh grade and didn’t last long. They didn’t hang out at one or the other’s house playing video games or listening to music. They only hung out when it was a group of them, and it soon became noticeable to their friends. They sat apart and rarely spoke to each other.
For the last year, Logan wasn’t sure what Dylan did with his time, other than practice for football or baseball, and over the Christmas break, he worked at the hardware store in town. Tina had asked him last fall what was Dylan’s problem and he had to tell her he honestly didn’t know. Dylan pretended nothing was wrong at school, joking around with the guys and flirting with girls. But it was obvious to Logan, then to the others, it was a façade. Any girl that flirted back got quickly shut down.
“Are you going to Tyler’s party?” asked Logan.
“Yes. You?” Dylan replied.
“Yes. I figured it’ll be the last time I see everyone. Did you know Jacob, Chris, and Melinda are going into the military?”
“Melinda too?”
“Yep. She’s signed up with the Navy, hoping to be stationed in Japan.”
“I can see that.”
“How have you been?” asked Logan, struggling to keep his tone right.
“What? What do you mean?” Dylan replied. He sounded offended.
“I mean…we don’t see each other anymore and…I was just wondering.”
“I’m fine. Besides, it’s what you wanted, right?”
“What?! No,”
“Hey guys, over here,” Melinda called out across the gym, and the façade went back up, all grins as if nothing were wrong.
There were spiked sodas and occasionally the smell of pot drifted out from the darkness of the very rear of the backyard, only the glow of a lit joint visible. Logan sat on a cooler and watched Chris and Megan at the grill cooking hot dogs and hamburgers and to his left Melinda and Brian were setting out paper plates and condiments. Scattered over the table were chips, cookies baked by Tyler’s mom and a cake from the Winn Dixie, and in small bowls was chopped onion, relish, lettuce, and pickles. It was late for dinner, but everyone had been too busy talking about their new-found freedom, none understanding the illusion of it.
Dylan was sitting with Jacob, Lisa, and Tyler, and Logan could hear Tyler going on about college and how he was going to party all the time. Lisa would laugh then call him a liar, but Dylan just nodded as if he agreed but his faraway stare showed he wasn’t even interested in what Tyler was saying.
“Hey Logan, let me get a drink,” said Chris, and Logan realized he had been staring again. He looked up to see Chris giving him a questioning look.
“Oh, sorry,” Logan replied as he stood up and lifted the top of the cooler. He watched Chris pull out one of the heavily caffeinated sodas almost wincing at the thought of its overly sweetness.
“What?” asked Chris.
“I can’t believe you drink that shit,” Dylan replied, looking at Megan for support.
“He’s right; those are shit,” Megan added, then turned back to the grill.
Logan had no idea of the time, but it was late. A few had left already, and on the benches for the picnic table lay Chris and Adam asleep. Tyler was in the middle of the group rambling on about the Braves and something about one of the pitchers. Logan didn’t really care so he wasn’t paying attention. He saw Melinda talking to Tina and Mary, with the occasional glance at Dylan, and he knew it wasn’t good whatever they were saying. What did it matter now, he wasn’t sure? It had been over a year since Dylan went out with Tina, and even longer with Mary, and in the last few months he wasn’t sure if Dylan had gone out with anyone or not. Chris had asked him what was wrong with Dylan back in the winter and after saying he had no idea, was told Dylan had stopped going out with anyone.
It was his problem, Logan thought as he stretched and yawned. He was exhausted and the thought of his own bed was the only thing he could think of.
“I’m beat,” Logan uttered as he stood.
“You leaving?” asked Melinda.
“Yeah. My bed is calling my name,” he joked in reply.
He strolled around the house to the front drive where his Civic was parked among all the other cars. It took some maneuvering, but he eventually got out of the line of cars. He drove slowly through town for he felt if he drove faster, it would disturb those asleep. The clock on the dash indicated it was 3:42 A.M. For the small town, nothing stirred at that hour. He crossed Main Street after waiting on one car to pass, only to see it was a policeman out on patrol. How often does he get a call, Logan wondered when he watched the blue and white car cruise past?
He found his home a welcome sight as he pulled into the drive parking by the garage. When the garage door rose, he saw the empty spot where his mom’s SUV should be, then remembered they went back with his grandparents to Mobile for the weekend. As he went through the door a quick tap of the garage door switch put it in motion to close it for the night.
In his room, Logan stripped to his boxers, intent on a shower. He was about to walk across the hall to the bathroom when the doorbell rang.
“What the fuck,” Logan uttered. He didn’t bother to dress, knowing it had to be prank. At the door he hesitated, standing still in the dark foyer. He stared at the door wondering who was on the other side. A knock, three loud raps against the door, then a familiar voice.
“Come on Logan, open up,” called out Dylan.
Logan swung the door open and saw Dylan was pacing on the porch still dressed as he had been at the party. The shirt was wrinkled, and Logan knew Dylan had been lying in bed fully dressed.
“What is it?”
Dylan pushed his way inside and paced back and forth. A hand combed through his hair, eyes not focused on any one place, and the agitated state all told Logan something was seriously wrong.
“I tried, I really tried, but…you…” Dylan uttered, then he stopped and stared at Logan. “I was so jealous…why did you?”
“Did what? Jealous of what?”
“I wanted to…I thought about it…fuck, fuck, fuck…”
“What are you talking about?”
“I think of you all the time. Don’t you get it?”
“But…”
“I can’t even mastur…” Dylan began, then fell silent.
“You knew I liked you, but you always ignored it? What was there to be jealous of?”
“Fuck,” Dylan uttered turning away from Logan.
Logan eased up to Dylan and put a hand on his shoulder. Up close, he knew Dylan was crying.
“Come on man, it’s okay.”
“Really?” Dylan replied, his tone sarcastic.
Logan was about to reply when Dylan spun around and grabbed him by the upper arms. He moved quickly and soon had their lips pressed together. Logan pushed back feebly, unable to break the contact. He wanted it. He didn’t know what it meant to have Dylan suddenly showing a willingness, but he dared not question it. He gently pushed Dylan back until he could look into his eyes.
“Will you stay with me tonight?” Logan asked.
“What about your parents?”
“They’re in Mobile for the weekend.”
Dylan smiled. It was a weak, sad smile, but the nod of the head gave Logan what he wanted. He took Dylan by the hand and led him to his bedroom.
Dylan stood passive as Logan removed his shirt. When Logan tugged down the jeans and boxers, stripping him, he combed a hand through Logan’s hair. His cock hung flaccid but as soon as Logan touched it, ran fingers along its length and toyed with the head, it began to respond. Once it began to become erect, Logan tilted his head down and slipped it into his mouth.
Logan understood the mechanics of what to do having watched hours of porn late at night, but to have Dylan in his mouth, to feel the cock move over his tongue, to feel it swell thicker, longer, aroused him. His own cock stirred in his boxers and while he moved on Dylan’s erection, working his mouth back and forth, he slipped his own cock our through the fly. He stroked it as he sucked and continued to do so until so aroused, he feared coming too soon. He pulled off Dylan’s cock and looked up. Logan had his eyes closed, but without the ministrations of Logan’s mouth on his cock he opened them, looking down at him.
“I was close,” Dylan whispered.
“Me too,” Logan replied as he climbed to his feet. “Let’s get on the bed.”
Logan wondered how far Dylan was willing to go. He worried about pushing something that would cause Dylan to suddenly pull back. But he wanted him so, he was willing to do anything. He backed to the bed, guiding Dylan to follow. He felt it hit the back of his legs and he eased back on it. Pushing with his feet and using his hands, he moved up to the center of the bed. Dylan followed him, crawling on hands and knees, until he hovered over his prone body.
“You’ll let me?” Dylan asked.
“Yes,” Logan replied, reaching out to take him in hand. He stroked the slick cock, keeping it hard. “Help me, Dylan. Loosen me so I can take it,” he added as he used his other hand to take Dylan’s, tugging it down between his legs.
Dylan hesitated at first, then he smiled as he worked his fingers along perineum, stroking it, rubbing it, moving them up and over the sac, then back down until rubbing over the tight opening.
“Do it…finger me,” Logan uttered as he slowly stroked Dylan’s cock.
A finger penetrated him, slipped inward all the way, and Logan moaned with satisfaction. Then another finger and he felt his tightness around them. Dylan fucked them in his hole, then twisted and turned them until he felt himself loosen around them. Dylan slipped them out, then pushed three fingers into him, and he shuddered with the penetration. He felt his tightness and the pain of stretching wider. He began to work his hips, trying to push down on those fingers. He wanted the penetration, wanted it to be deep inside him.
“Dylan…do me,” Logan uttered as he arced his back and pushed down on the fingers.
The fingers slipped out and Logan tugged on Dylan’s cock, guiding it to his opening. Dylan shifted closer then pushed his cock tight against him. He pushed and Logan pushed back.
Logan felt the stretch of his opening and the penetration of cock into his hole. The way it tugged at his opening and gave him a sense of fullness, of being made complete in this sexual copulation. Dylan pushed inward until tight against his ass. He wrapped his arms around Dylan’s neck and pulled him down.
“Fuck me,” Logan exclaimed.
Dylan worked his hips, tugging outward then pushing back in. His pace was slow at first, but soon he was moving with urgency. Logan moaned and cried out as he pushed upward. He wanted Dylan deeper. He wanted to be consumed by him.
Dylan lifted up on his hands and began to fuck harder. The bed rocked, then began to squeak in rhythm to it. Faster and faster, Dylan exerted himself until his skin glistened wetly in the dim light. He took Logan by the legs, a hand behind each knee, and lifted them to his chest, then he began to fuck again. It was physical, bodies smacking together and the bed rocking in rhythm to his thrust.
Logan felt the hot sweaty chest against his legs. He felt the cock piston inside him, thrusting deeply into his hole, then tugging outward in a rapid pace. He heaved for breath and clutched at the bed. His own cock hovered over his stomach, aching for release. He took it in hand and stroked it.
“Keep going; don’t stop,” Logan uttered as he felt his own impending release.
“Logan…I’m going to…” Dylan uttered, unable to finish as he hammered his cock inside of him. He jammed it into him and kept pushing with his hips as he filled him with his load.
Logan couldn’t hold back, too aroused by their fuck, and he stroked down his cock to the base and felt it flex in his hand as cum rained down on his face and chest.
The water ran hot, steaming up the shower. Dylan stood under the spray once again passive to Logan’s ministrations.
Logan ran soapy hands over Dylan, around the neck, across shoulders and down the chest and stomach. He took the flaccid cock and soaped it until it began to thicken and elongate. He pressed his body against him feeling the slickness of the soap between them and the push of Dylan’s cock next to his own.
“You okay?” Logan asked.
“Yeah.”
“No regrets?”
“No,” Dylan replied, then leaned forward and kissed Logan.
Logan bathed Dylan then toyed with him until he was hard. He turned to the wall, hands bracing himself as he spread his legs.
“Dylan. Do me, do me again. Please.”
Logan watched Dylan move up behind him and push his cock down. It touched him, then stretched him open once again. It slipped inward, all the way and he turned his head down and moaned. Lips touched the back of his neck then nipped at the skin as the cock began to move inside him. Slowly at first, and he felt every inch move through his opening, but far too soon, Dylan couldn’t hold back. The slow fuck increased in pace until it was fast, rough, hips smacking against ass. It aroused Logan even more, the physicality of it, this sex between men. His own cock hardened as it flopped between his thighs. Dylan reached around and took him in hand. Roughly, Dylan stroked his cock while hammering his insides. Dylan reached around his neck and pulled him back until their bodies were held tight together. Stretched back, hand stroking his cock as cock thrust into his depths, he felt alive, felt his true self. He cried out, begged Dylan to fuck him harder, and he rocked forward with every thrust into his depths.
“Fuck,” Dylan exclaimed as he shoved into Logan’s depths and shuddered with release.
Logan shuddered with his own release, spraying the wall with cum.
Early morning light filtered through the blinds as Logan led Dylan to his bed. Naked, their skin soft and warm from their shower, they lay together. Logan spooned against Dylan’s back, holding him tight. He felt the heat of his body and the soft undulation of simply breathing.
“Logan?”’
“Yes?”
“Thanks.”
“Go to sleep.”
The Summer of Dreams
After that first weekend together, Logan felt alive. Felt like a man who was finally getting what he desired. Dylan and he played video games in his room for hours on end. They went to movies, out to eat, and on nice weekends drove up to the state park to hike or hang out at the swimming area. It felt like they were dating, but Logan knew not to call it that. He sensed it, some precarious balance to their relationship. There were no public displays of affection, no hand holding under tables or in the car when cruising around. There were no sneaked kisses. It was only when they found a place to be alone, did Dylan display any affection, and never more than when they fucked.
June passed and July arrived hot and dry. Temperatures soared into the mid to upper nineties. Dylan had a birthday on the eighth, a Tuesday. The party wasn’t as large as in the past, some of their friends having left the town for jobs or the military. But Dylan didn’t care for the next weekend, Logan and he were going to spend it at Pensacola Beach. The hotel room was reserved, and restaurants were scoped out online. Within walking distance of the hotel was Flounder’s Chowder House, Native Café, and Sidelines Sports Bar & Restaurant, and a short drive down the barrier island, Peg Leg Pete’s.
The week seemed to drag, time itself slow, for Logan and Dylan didn’t think Friday would ever arrive. But the days passed, and Friday arrived bright and clear. They loaded up Dylan’s 4Runner, a four-year-old SUV he had gotten last year and headed out. They drove down two-lane highways, then four-lane freeways until finally on I-110 going into downtown Pensacola. The interstate spur dropped them off on a local street and they passed the convention center, a hotel, then small businesses, with a few restaurants mixed in. The road intersected with Bayfront Parkway which took them to Pensacola Bay Bridge. They drove over the bay and into Gulf Breeze, stopping at a surf shop. Logan wanted flip flops, and both picked up new swimming trunks, tank tops and t-shirts.
A short drive took them to the turn for the bridge over the cove and onto the barrier island that was Pensacola Beach. The road went to the center of the island and turned to the east. A short distance they came to the hotel that faced the gulf.
“Let’s check in then grab lunch somewhere. I’m starving,” said Dylan.
“It is after one, and I’m starving too.”
They checked into the hotel, a room on the third floor overlooking the beach and the gulf. Luggage set in the room, Dylan went into the bathroom and Logan went to the sliding doors, opening them to the breeze off the water. He felt the saltiness of it. Even his nose sensed the difference in the air.
“Feels nice doesn’t it,” Dylan whispered as he came up behind Logan wrapping arms around the narrow waist.
“Yes. I’m glad we came,” Logan replied, laying his head back on a shoulder.
A quick kiss to the side of the neck, Dylan released Logan.
“Let’s go eat.”
Logan pulled Dylan into their room, both still wet from horsing around in the warm gulf waters. Sand clung to their feet and legs and their hair was matted down. Neither cared about their appearance. Logan undid the drawstring on Dylan’s trunks and went to his knees, tugging them down along the way. He took Dylan in his mouth, working his tongue over the head, then sucking the entire cock into his mouth. He manipulated it until it stretched out to its full length, forcing him to back off.
“Fuck, suck me,” Dylan uttered.
Logan sucked, working his mouth up and down. He tongued the head until Dylan shuddered and jerked. Dylan filled his mouth, cut off his air, and gave him a teasing taste drooling from the slit. Hands held his head as Dylan pushed forward, pumping cock into his mouth.
“Fuck, I’m close,” uttered Dylan.
Dylan eased back on the bed and watched Logan climb to his feet.
Logan crawled up on the bed, kicking off his own trunks as he did so. He moved over Dylan, letting his cock drag up one leg and along side Dylan’s cock. He pushed it against the firm stomach then sat up, rubbing his ass over Dylan’s slick cock.
“Logan,” Dylan uttered as he pushed upward pressing his cock against Logan’s ass.
Logan rose on his knees and took Dylan in hand. His fingers toyed with the head making Dylan moan, then he lowered down to it until feeling the push against his tightness.
“I want you inside me,” Logan whispered as he felt the stretch of his opening.
Logan eased down, stretching wider, feeling the fullness of Dylan’s cock in his hole. He kept moving, down until taking over half of Dylan, then upward until he held only the head inside him. Faster and faster, until they were in a physical fuck, dropping down nearly all the way. The bed rocked and Dylan moaned and grunted with Logan’s movement.
Logan rode Dylan until he was gasping for breath and covered in sweat. Near exhaustion, he slowed down, then fell still, Dylan buried in his ass.
“Get on your back,” whispered Dylan.
Logan rolled to his back and watched Dylan move between his legs, felt the hands on each one, a firm grip behind each knee. A push over, then down, and his legs pressed against his chest as cock bore into his hole. Dylan pushed inward all the way and began to fuck. With eyes closed, he lay back and clutched at the bed as cock piston into his depths.
“Take me…take…me…” Dylan uttered as he worked his hips faster and faster. Flesh smacked against flesh and the bed rocked in rhythm to his movements. Fingers dug into his thighs. It spurned him to fuck harder until he too was sweaty and gasping for breath. He lay on top of Logan and ground cock into the depths of Logan’s hole. He undulated against the sweaty body, feeling its heat as he worked his cock inside him. The push. The tug outward. Over and over.
“I’m going to cum,” Dylan uttered as he shoved into Logan’s depths and shuddered with release.
Dylan lay still for a long time, his breathing slowly settling down. He rolled off Logan and reached out and took him in hand. He stroked the drooling cock until his hand was slick with it.
“Logan?”
“Yeah?”
“I want to try.”
Logan smiled, then moved over Dylan. He stood on his knees and took one leg by the ankle, spreading Dylan wide. Using his other hand, he rubbed up and down Dylan’s ass. He worked the nuts around in their sac, racked his fingers down the perineum feeling the line in the skin, then rubbed the tight opening. When Dylan moaned, he pushed a finger through the tightness. A push inward, then the tug out, over and over, until he was fucking the hole with one finger. Another was inserted and soon he was working the hole with both.
“You sure?” Logan whispered.
“Yes…do it.”
Logan moved closer and raked his drooling cock up and down Dylan’s ass. It aroused him, his cock flexing with the stimulation. He rubbed up then down, focusing on the tight opening until it was wet with his slick. Then he penetrated him. Slowly, feeling every inch squeeze through and into the heat of the hole.
“Fuck,” Dylan uttered as he clutched at the bed.
Logan began to fuck, tugging outward feeling the tight opening squeeze his cock, then he pushed inward, slowly. He felt every inch of his cock as he piston it inside Dylan. His pace increased until fucking in a steady rhythm. Muscles strained and tightened with his exertion as he swung his hips. The sound of their bodies coming together, and Dylan’s utterings filled the room.
Logan couldn’t get enough.
“Get on your knees,” Logan exclaimed as he pulled back.
Dylan got on this knees and Logan pushed him down until on his knees and elbows.
“Take me,” Logan uttered as he bore into Dylan’s depths.
“Fuck…do me…” Dylan exclaimed as he held his head down and pushed back taking every inch.
Logan held the narrow waist and fucked, hard, fast, hammering cock in Dylan’s depths. Everything became a blur. The room closed in around him. He perceived nothing but Logan and his cock inside of him. Then he felt it, an increase in arousal that curled his toes. His body tightened, every muscle straining with his movement. The need for release consumed him. He tightened his grip on Dylan’s waist and shoved inward, all the way, and hammered his hips against Dylan’s ass.
“Fuck…I’m going to cum,” Logan uttered as the sound of his hips smacking against Dylan’s ass filled the room.
Dylan raised his head, mouth hanging open. He was masturbating, his hand a blur on his cock as he took Logan.
“Goddamn; me too,” Dylan exclaimed, and he sprayed the bed with his second load.
They passed the summer with greater and greater intimacy. The sex became love making. Each fuck started slow, gently, savoring the feel of the penetration of each other. As the summer neared it end, their sex also became desperate. They knew their parting for different colleges was on the horizon. But they had plans to meet up on weekends or on holidays when both would be home visiting family. They never planned for after college, for that would come later. Right now, it was the next four years they had to focus on, or so they thought.
It was only two weeks away from their time of departing for college, and they were in Dylan’s room. His parents left for a church function, taking Emily, his sister with them. The house was quiet, just the sound of music playing in Dylan’s room, the one he once shared with his older brother, Derek.
They were in the shower, the water hot until steaming up the small bathroom. They had fucked on Dylan’s bed. Their clothes lay scattered on the floor and an area wet with Logan’s cum was in the middle of the bed. In the shower, they had bathed the other, running soapy hands over every inch of their bodies until cocks angled outward, hard, wanting. Logan sucked Dylan, pushed his arousal until he found himself being pulled to his feet and spun to face the wall. Dylan put his spit slick cock to Logan’s hole and pushed inward all the way. He fucked with renewed strength. He fucked until Logan was crying out. He fucked until the sound of their bodies smacking together echoed in the small bathroom.
They fucked so hard they didn’t hear David, Dylan’s father, come up the stair. They didn’t hear him come into Dylan’s room wondering about the noise or opening the bathroom door to find them in the shower.
“What are you DOING?” bellowed David when he realized what he was seeing; his son fucking another boy. He stood in the door as Dylan and Logan jerked apart and tried to conceal their erections. He refused to back out to give some privacy when they stepped out.
“Dylan, are you…” David uttered, unable to finish his question. He finally stepped back and glowered at Logan as he rushed by. He turned to Logan struggling to control his fury. “Get dressed and get out of my house,” he uttered in a low strained voice as he watched Logan struggling to get his boxers, then jeans pulled on.
“Dad…calm down. I can explain…”
“Shut it,” David barked at Dylan. “Get dressed and don’t you leave this house. We’ll discuss this when I get back from church.”
The last two weeks passed with Dylan unable to talk to Logan, fearful of getting caught. He texted Logan that afternoon and told him it was over, that he couldn’t see him anymore. Despite repeated attempts to talk to Dylan, Logan was turned away by David and Anne Williams or simply ignored by Dylan, who stayed inside, never venturing out until the day he pulled away heading to college.
It left Logan devasted. If only Dylan would talk to him, give him some clue they could work it out, but all he got was silence.
During breaks he would see Dylan in the backyard with his parents having a cookout, or when he passed their house at night, see Dylan up in his room sitting at his desk. Their parents had never been close friends, but Logan’s parent’s acceptance of him being gay was like a slap in the face to the Williams, who took the final step of replacing the gate that existed between their backyards with fencing, making the barrier between their properties very real.
What Logan didn’t know was the turmoil that existed between Dylan’s parents over him being gay. Despite Dylan saying he wasn’t gay and would never do it again, they knew the truth. In hindsight, they saw the truth, and knew Dylan hadn’t changed. They could see it, the way he looked with longing at the Davenport’s house, especially up at the window to Logan’s bedroom. They could see how Dylan looked at other guys, the most obvious time was when they were in Atlanta for a long weekend and two guys passed them holding hands. Dylan had stared at them and appeared near tears.
It was the summer after Junior year, only one more year left of college. Logan still held out hoped that Dylan would come back to him, but the last weekend of June he saw a moving truck pull into the William’s drive, then four men begin the process of loading up boxes, furniture, and appliances. He drove around the block and rushed up to the open front door. David Williams met him at the threshold.
“What do you think you’re doing here?”
“I just want to talk to Dylan. Please, let me see him,” Logan pleaded.
“I think it’s best you go home. There is nothing you have to say that he needs to hear, and by tomorrow, there will be no further temptation to see him. We’ll be gone and you can pursue some other innocent boy to corrupt with your…”
“Fuck you, you sanctimonious bastard. You have no right,” Logan exclaimed as he backed across the porch, then rushed down the steps, looking up at Dylan’s windows. “Dylan! Dylan!”
“I’m going to call the police if you don’t leave,” said David, coming down the steps.
“I just want to speak to him for a minute.”
“I said no; now leave.”
“What right do you have to…”
“He’s my son and I can’t lose him to your filth.”
“You don’t know the first thing about me, or your own son,” Logan replied, and he saw his last statement struck home. He started to say more, push back against David when a voice came from the door that froze them both.
“Logan…go home. There is nothing to say,” said Dylan, standing in the door in a t-shirt and jeans looking dejected and forlorn.
Just another weekend.
Dylan woke early, realizing it was Saturday and he could have slept in. He climbed out of bed and slipped on shorts and a tank top, then put on his running shoes. When he was slightly hungover or simply distressed, a jog around the neighborhood had a way of clearing his mind. Out on the sidewalk, he stretched and warmed up, then took off. He went down to Elm Lane, then over to Independence Park where its wide sidewalks were ideal for jogging. He circled the pond with its fountains of spraying water at each end and geese and ducks swimming around the edges, then cut off on the longest trial. It wound through the trees, circling back to the tennis courts, then past the dog park. Each time he saw the dogs running free, he wondered if he should get a dog, then realized his long hours during the week and living in an apartment was not an ideal situation for a dog.
Back at his apartment, he showered and slipped on one of his favorite pair of jeans. Worn and faded, they fit loose around the waist and were soft against his skin. A black t-shirt pulled on, and he headed out the door. He took the time to remove the doors and lower the top on his Jeep before heading into downtown. He was craving seafood and his favorite restaurant was on Riverside Avenue near the river. Taking secondary roads, just enjoying the sunny day, he found himself looking at other guys. Walking down the sidewalks, riding in convertibles or open Jeeps much like his own, or with windows down, music playing, hands tapping steering wheels, he sized them up. He felt his attraction to so many of them. The lure of their sex, and he found himself smiling at more than one guy as he made his way across town. But it was a guy in a Miata with curly brown hair that made him think of Dylan. No matter how hard he tried to forget him, there was always something that would bring it all back.
After lunch, Logan ambled across Riverside Avenue to the path that ran along the river. He headed the same way as the river, toward the Atlantic Ocean. He, of course, would stop far short, finding himself sitting on the grass listening to a band at The Landing.
It was the hottest part of the day when Logan finally headed home. The sun was hot, making him sweat, as he motored back across town. Jeep pulled into a space along the back fence, he made his way inside, taking the elevator up to his floor. He stepped out and rounded the corner to the corridor that led to his apartment. He found himself looking down at the carpeted floor, wondering when he was going to stop letting his memory of Dylan impact him as it did once again. He dated other guys, but cut each one short, unable to let a relationship develop. He was halfway down the corridor when he realized someone was at his door. They were sitting on the floor, knees up, head down. The hair was cut short, and the clothes were ill-fitting, but the profile was familiar. He found himself speeding up, rushing to get to them. As he neared, they looked up and he saw the gaunt look, the hollowness of the eyes, and it nearly brought him up short.
“Dylan?”
“Hey Logan. Where have you been?”
“I went for lunch and…what are you doing here?”
“I tried. Honestly, I tried, Logan.”
Logan knew what Dylan referred. He watched Dylan climb to his feet then he rushed to him, bearhugging the far too skinny body to his own. It surprised him how his arms fit so easy around it.
“Let’s get inside.”
Logan listened to Dylan’s ramblings, with apologies repeated every few minutes and long periods of silence. He made them coffee, taking his time allowing Dylan all the time he needed to circle back to one confession or another. He looked at the skinny body with empathy and longing as he listened to Dylan admit he wasn’t eating as he should, nor was he sleeping.
Dylan talked about his parents, and how being gay still strained their relationship although there was some acceptance. The move three years before was to get away from Logan and his family, for they still held a belief Dylan would become straight. After college there was the move to Raleigh for about eighteen months, then a transfer to the company’s main offices in Atlanta.
“You’re in Atlanta?” Logan asked.
“Yeah, since last December.”
“I didn’t know.”
“I stopped posting on social media.”
“Why?”
“I didn’t see any reason.”
“But…” Logan began to reply but stopped himself.
“Would you have kept up with me if I had?”
Logan sat silent staring across the room at Dylan, wondering if he should confess how much he missed seeing Dylan posting something of his activities, no matter how mundane.
“Would you?” Dylan asked again.
“Yes,” Logan whispered.
“I looked at your posts.”
“You did?”
Dylan nodded.
“Why didn’t you make contact?”
“After what happened?”
Logan picked up Dylan’s empty cup and carried them to the kitchen. He rinsed each and set them in the sink. Looking up, he saw Dylan looking out the window.
“I missed you,” said Logan. He saw Dylan flinch, then lower his head.
“I missed you too.”
“Is that why you’re here?”
“Actually, I came to apologize for what happened. It was driving me nuts…this knowing it was my family that stood between us. They took my life away from me and…”
Logan waited but Dylan didn’t finish.
“But what is stopping you now?” asked Logan.
“How much I hurt you.”
“But it wasn’t your fault.”
“It was in a way. I let my parents believe I could change, and it gave them hope I would be what they imagined, and to make that happen they knew you had to be out of the picture. So, you see, it was my fault.”
“But I don’t blame you.”
“You should.”
“I don’t.”
Dylan stood and looked back at Logan still standing at the kitchen sink.
“I should go.”
“What? No! You just got here.”
“But I said what I needed to say and if I don’t go, I…don’t know if I would be able to.”
Logan moved to Dylan. His heart was racing, and he felt an urgency to do something, anything to stop him from leaving.
“Don’t…Logan… I can’t…” Dylan uttered in a weak defeated voice as Logan came to him, hugging him tightly.
“You can’t leave me again.”
Logan saw the skinny body revealed as he removed the shirt, then jeans. He tugged down the boxers revealing the hardening cock. He removed them as Dylan lifted one foot then the other. He ran his hands up the legs as he rose to his knees. He kissed the stomach, then along the growing cock until he had the head inside his mouth. Dylan gasped, then shivered with his manipulation.
“Fuck…Logan, don’t stop,” Dylan uttered as Logan sank nearly every inch into his mouth.
Logan worked his mouth on Dylan’s cock, making it get rock hard. It filled his mouth and soon drooled on his tongue. He sucked at the head then tongued it.
“Logan, will you do me?” Dylan whispered.
Logan pulled back until Dylan’s cock slipped from his mouth.
“Whatever you want.”
Logan climbed to his feet, watching Dylan back to his bed then climb on it. Kicking with each foot and using his hands, Dylan moved up on the bed, then lay on his back. Logan climbed on the bed and moved between the spread legs.
Dylan held his legs up, resting them on each shoulder, then he reached for Logan’s growing cock. He fingered the head and toyed with it until it was fully erect.
“Come on Logan, put it in me.”
Logan held the legs as Dylan guided his cock to its target. He watched how it touched the spread ass, pressed against the opening, and he pushed harder, squeezing through the tightness. Inch after inch, he pushed until over half of his cock was inside of him.
“Come on, Logan, fuck me. Let me feel it,” uttered Dylan.
Logan began to fuck, to drive into Dylan’s depths. Over and over, he thrust into Dylan, his pace rapidly increasing. His bed squeaked, then began to rock in rhythm to their fuck. Fingers dug into his thighs, then hands rubbed up his back, around to his chest. Fingers rubbed his nipples, worked the hard nub of each, sending shivers down his spine.
Logan looked down at Dylan, with moments wondering it was real. If Dylan was really back in his bed. But he felt the hands that clung to him. The legs that rubbed his chest. And how he was so aroused with his cock working within Dylan.
It was a pent-up release, one built up over three years of longing and desire for what had escaped him. He wanted their sex to last so much longer, but he could not hold back. He shuddered and jerked with the surge of release. He hammered his cock into Dylan’s depths, then filled him with his load.
Not waiting to see what Dylan would do next, Logan moved over him, holding down each wrist.
“My turn,” Logan uttered as he ground his ass down on Dylan’s hard leaking cock.
“Logan,” Dylan uttered as he pushed up, increasing the pressure on his cock.
Logan sat up, working his ass back and forth. Then he rose on his knees and reached back taking Dylan in hand. He held him up while easing back down. Dylan’s cock penetrated him as he kept easing down. He took half of Dylan then began to fuck. To rise and fall back down, sinking Dylan deeper and deeper until he bounced off his hips. It aroused him, the fullness of penetration with every drop down. His own cock smacked Dylan’s stomach getting hard again. He took it in hand, stroking it roughly, keeping pace with their fuck.
“Logan, I’m going to…” Dylan uttered as he shoved upward.
Logan felt the thrust upward then the jamming of cock into his depths, knowing Dylan was coming. He stroked his cock harder as he dropped down on Dylan’s spurting cock, then sprayed him with his second load.
Logan held Dylan against his chest. He felt him breathing normally, now calm and quiet. He kissed him on the back of the neck then nestled his head next to Dylan’s head.
“Will you stay until tomorrow?” Logan asked.
“Yeah.”
“Can we talk about us?”
“I’d like that, but what about our jobs?”
“I’d move.”
“You would?”