Jerome looked at his phone.
Nothing.
"Damn!" he thought. He thought that maybe this time it would happen. Last time, years ago in Alberta, it didn't. And he'd been so ready to take the plunge. But the guy never showed. For some reason it felt different with Jack, their messages has gotten hotter and hotter, more detailed; less fantasy and more, well, planning. But the morning was slowly ticking by, and he hadn't heard anything yet, despite the shared discretion and trust of exchanging actual phone numbers.
Trying to keep grounded and distracted from the growing ache in his groin, he busied himself in the garden, doing some weeding, listening to music in the warm sun. He could hear the sigh of the wind in the nearby trees, birdsong and the drone of cars in the distance. Happily his neighbour's air conditioner was silent.
"Ping!"
His phone chimed. He stood up, knees cracking at the abrupt transition from totally bent to totally straight. He vowed for the millionth time to do more yoga. But looking at his fit body, salt and pepper hair across his chest and abdomen, reasonably taut stomach, and well-toned legs, it was clear that some sort of promise was indeed being kept. His green eyes scanned toward the phone, sitting on the deck railing out of the sun.
Jerome strode over to it and looked at the message. It was Jack. Finally!
"Just stopping for gas. Sorry I couldn't text you when I was leaving, too much to do."
Well, that's it...he's actually coming and this was actually going to happen.
It started out on Realjock, a website catering to athletic gay men who wanted to connect with other gay men, for friendship, sex, dating, and relationships.
The thing is, some men on that and other sites, it seemed, to Jerome, were just like him, Straight Men who want to have sex with Straight Men, SMSM for short. A lousy acronym, Jerome thought. But it adequately described men, like him, who were turned on by the idea of having sex with a man, oral and anal; turned on by the thought of grabbing a man's hips as he thrust himself into that man's asshole, so hot, so wet and so tight. Those very same men who were NOT attracted to men; didn't get horny looking at a guy's bearded face, or his legs, or sic-pack abs, not like when they looked at the delicious curves of a woman. It was enough to simply be human and horny and wanting to experience every flavour of pleasure that life could offer.
So Jerome found himself on Realjock perusing pictures of guys' cocks and asses, photos of their toned, muscular bodies. No interest in bears. The other thing was, it was not easy to find bi-curious or bisexual men who were of the same mind in Smithfield. A bigger city? Yes. Smithfield? Not so much.
But there was one guy who seemed to fit the bill, nice cock, nice body, and wired like him, wanting sex, but no romance, kissing or dating; just fucking. After a couple of tentative, careful messages, 'Jack' asked Jerome what he was into. Here it came. He had to tell Jack the truth that he was merely bi-curious, had no experience, couldn't promise anything, but did emphatically stress that he wanted to experience man to man sex. So he did, adding that he was dating a wonderful woman. A woman with whom he'd just shared his desire to have sex with a man.
Jerome's messages seemed to have been compelling enough; certainly they were explicit enough to warrant a growing connection between the two men. They shared pictures, short videos, and then moved onto Skype; but nothing in person.
Yet it seemed so close to the real thing. The watched porn together, watched each other ride their toys, stroke off and cum on camera. But nothing in person yet. For whatever reason, it wasn't yet time for the flesh to come into play.
Weeks went by, then months. They'd connect when they could, text when they could and mutually stroke when they could. Jerome was beginning to despair that he'd ever experience the real thing. But then the timing DID work in their favour.
Jack was free that coming weekend, so, tongue thick in his mouth, Jerome asked him to come down. Or rather, invited him to come down and fuck and suck and fuck some more. His weekend was equally devoid of commitments. Jack was more than happy to accommodate Jerome's fantasies at last; oh happy day!
And now it was the weekend. FINALLY!
Jerome cleaned himself up, washing carefully as best he could. He made sure he was ready to provide a clean, attractive experience for Jack. He hoped Jack had done the same.
"Bing Bong!"
Trembling nervousness, Jerome answered the door.
And there he was. The man he was going to fuck.
Jack was about the same height and build, if not a bit more toned. Younger too, maybe by as much as a decade. Jerome was glad they'd exchanged face pics so neither of them was unpleasantly surprised. It was one thing to not be specifically attracted to men, but it was another to at least find them objectively aesthetic. His brown eyes were friendly, and he smiled as he put out his hand.
"Jerome, it's great to finally meet in person," he said amicably.
"Same here, Jack. Come on in," Jerome welcomed his friend inside. Jack took off his shoes and was led into the living room. He saw the clean, bright space, artwork on the walls, no personal pics. The place felt more like a hotel room than the intimate space of someone's home.
"Would you like something to drink, eat?" Jerome offered. "I bought some steaks from Costco for later."
both men thought at the same time without saying anything.
"Maybe a beer?" Jack asked.
Jerome was glad had a stash of some craft beer chilling in the fridge. He himself never partook, but figured to not deny his guest.
The two guys sat down on the sofa. Jack, seeing his buddy's obvious nerves, made small talk to at least take the edge off. The artwork was an optional start.
"Nice paintings," he commented.
That was the trick. Jerome's face transitioned from friendly but nervous to open and animated.
"Thank you," he said with a smile.
"Did you do them?" Jack asked, mildly surprised at the powerful effect that one, small comment had.
"Um, yeah," Jerome said, trying to be modest but so painfully unable to hide his pride. Indeed, his artwork was one of his pride and joys. He never tired of being complimented on his work. He stood up and guided his friend throughout the house, pointing out each one, and a quick anecdote that came with them.
