The following is a complete work of fiction.
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The following story may contain erotic situations between consenting adults. If it is illegal for you to read this please leave now.
Any resemblance between the characters and any real life person is completely coincidental. Please do not copy or distribute the story without the author's permission.
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It was a cold and stormy day in January when they met. Sean was standing behind his mother, watching her sign copy after copy of the latest bestseller written by him, using her name as a cover. Ken sat across the room, signing his month in the calendar, the latest ploy by the team to drum up business for charity. It was Ken's baby, his idea to make a beefcake calendar of some of the better-looking players on the team and it was selling almost better than the book. Sean had seen Ken sitting on the other side of the room, smiling and flirting with the many ladies lined up to buy a copy and have it signed by their favorite baseball player. He had always noticed Ken Simms, for he was an absolutely beautiful man. He was tall, very athletic, and as he could see from the full page blow up of the calendar, very well built. He had a muscular, toned body, covered in dark hair from his collarbones in wonderful swirls along his chest until it thickened in a deep swath from mid sternum down along his belly into his team pants.
Sean felt out of place and a bit like an ogre at the Women's Conference. But he always felt that way. He was six-eight and he got so wrapped up in his writing that he often let his appearance go a bit. He'd forget to cut his hair and seldom shaved. His body was big, naturally huge and it only got more toned and large with the workouts he did to ease some of the stress, some of the loneliness. His mother had taken him to see her friend and she had cut his hair and trimmed his unruly beard, but he still felt out of place, a bit like a rugged mountain man in this room of dainty, petite women. If only he had known that Ken sat across the room and couldn't help but notice him.
Ken had always been attracted to tall, big men, being one himself. Although a mere six-three, he had always been so much taller than most other people. He watched as Sean stood over his mother, watched all that she did. Many people shied away from him, but Ken couldn't help but notice that the man was gruff in appearance, but had the sweetest, saddest, kindest eyes he had ever seen. Those eyes belied the big, scary exterior and led right into the soul of the man. He only half listened to the many women, clamoring for his autograph as he surreptitiously watched the man across the room. He felt his pulse quicken as he caught him more than once staring back at him.
As the conference wound down on this final day, the crowds started to thin and Sean felt bereft that it would all be over. He had overheard such incredible praise coming from the fans of his work. In so many ways he wished he could come right out and say that the work was his and that it was his heart and soul that he poured into each story, that it was his hopes and dreams and belief in love that was in every word. But who would want to read the hopes and dreams of a big, ugly gay man? So he stood behind his mother, ever grateful that she had stepped forward when he couldn't sell his first book. She had taken one look at her son, seen his hopes fading as he got rejection after rejection. She put her name to his work and submitted it, gaining a multiple book contract that got extended over and over again. He was so talented. Her pride in him knew no bounds.
The moderators of the conference asked that the guests stay in place while they made sure all the doors were shut before leaving. Ken took that opportunity to make his way over to add his praise of the woman's work. He had read each book, and although it was always about a man and woman finding everlasting love, it spoke to him so deeply, answered so many of his own hopes and dreams, that he couldn't pass up the opportunity to say so. Playing major league baseball meant living a lie, living life in the closet. He was gay, but his team manager and coaches had always schooled him to stay in the closet, to perpetuate the lie. Professional sports wasn't ready for an openly gay player. It stymied his life to the point where he stopped even trying to date at all. For Ken could never ask anyone to live the secret. He had tried twice, and both times the relationship faltered before it even started. So he lived his life alone, his hand being his constant companion. He wasn't proud of himself, but he got so lonely last season that he hooked up with one of the team groupies and used her body to slake his lust, just so he could be connected to someone for a few hours. It had been highly unsatisfying.
As Ken made his way to the table with Margaret Anderson, he couldn't help but smile as he felt the eyes of the big man behind her follow his every move. He had never been the object of someone's deep scrutiny before, at least not someone who was so ruggedly handsome, so completely masculine, so fiercely virile looking. He was the epitome of whom Ken found most attractive in a man. He shared kind words with Margaret; all the while feeling those sad, kind eyes follow him, watch him, and devour him. It sent a chill down his spine and made his cock twitch and plump.