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Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32
“Shit!” The cut I’d just given myself on my finger started to leak blood all over my hand. I dropped the knife and headed for the kitchen sink. “Fucking brilliant,” I said to myself as I held my finger under the faucet and worked some soap all over the nearly 2-inch long cut I’d managed to give myself as I’d been slicing up some beef for dinner. It’s not that I regularly have these kinds of accidents as I go about my day, but I’d certainly been more absent-minded today. I’d already smashed my knee into a rack of weights at the gym, and I’d made a mess with the blender this morning when I was making a shake and somehow didn’t realize the lid wasn’t on completely. I even managed to get some of the still-quite-lumpy protein mix in my eye. I think I might have outdone myself with this new cut, adding to today’s tally–although thankfully it didn’t look like I’d need stitches; it wasn’t too deep and the bleeding was starting to taper off.
I knew why I was so distracted today, I just didn’t really want to admit it to myself. That would mean acknowledging that I hadn’t actually moved on the way I’d been telling myself I had. I shook my head ‘get a grip Colby!’
It had been three years. Three long years putting myself back together, finally being able to look at people in the eye, getting just enough self-esteem to start being able to live again–at least somewhat. Going back to the gym had been difficult, at first I expected to see him there again, just as I had that first time all those years ago. I knew it was never going to happen, he was gone, I was sure I would never see him again in my life. Not after the way he ended things. I knew he was leaving this town, maybe even moving to another country. It didn’t matter though, he had broken my spirit so completely that even though I knew it would never happen, I couldn’t help the anxiety I felt that I’d see him around somewhere…
Except it wasn’t all fear. I know it’s pathetic, I know I should have hated him for the way he upended our lives like that without any warning, but even as I was worrying I might run into him, I was also almost hoping that I would. I wanted to shout, scream, throw things, cry, and maybe even punch him in his stupid face. But mostly I had wanted him to throw his arms around me, squeeze me tight, and tell me he was sorry; that he loved me and that he would never leave me ever again.
Eventually those feelings went away, bit by bit…mostly. I had been drinking a after it happened. I turned to alcohol because even though it didn’t make me feel better, it helped me feel nothing. And feeling nothing was better than the pain I felt when I was sober.
I’d never known a pain like that before. I’d loved before him, a few times. I’d had my share of breakups. But most of the time I’d been the one to end things, and I’d like to think when I had to tell my soon-to-be exes that I didn’t see a future for us, that I did so with much more tact and comfort than the way Jason stated it matter-of-factly to me that cool autumn night. There had been more than a couple of my former boyfriends who became friends in spite of our breakup. And the odd time that there were tears on one side or another, we still managed to hug…if I’m being completely honest, there were more than a few ‘breakup fucks’. When there had been sadness, it seemed to be more from the idea that I’d hurt the other person, someone I’d loved. I hated being the bad guy. But I had never felt, ever, the sense of loss that hit me when Jason blindsided me the night he told me he was leaving.
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We’d had almost a decade together. We had met when I was twenty-three years old. He was a few years older, not quite thirty, but he seemed so worldly, so mature; I remember feeling like I’d never laid eyes on anyone like him before. And I had definitely been laying my eyes on him, it was difficult not to. At the gym, wearing what was probably a double extra-large, long-sleeved tee-shirt that was still about to rip at the seams, sweat dripping down his face as he flexed the biggest biceps I’d ever seen, straining to bring the weights back up one more time. And then again. And impossibly, considering just how much weight he was actually using, continued to do reps beyond what I could have sworn was humanly possible.
I was pretty sure he hadn’t seen me, he had his headphones in, and clearly was concentrating on what he was doing. But it wouldn’t have been difficult for him to realize that he had a spectator, as I’m pretty sure I didn’t move for over a minute while I just stared at him. Eventually I came to my senses, realized that there were other people around who could see that I was just staring at this absolute beast of a man, and realized that if HE noticed me, he might not necessarily appreciate that I was staring. There were very few gay guys at this gym, it’s not really very cruisy. It was the kind of place that had seen it’s heyday probably well before I was born. It had a few machines, that were often out of service, and a few pieces of cardio equipment. But it was mostly weights, dinged-up, maslak escort somewhat rusted, and in every single corner of the fairly large space. It was a gym for people who really wanted a workout, and who did not have any desire to sit on the cushioned seat of some expensive piece of equipment just so they could take photos for their Instagram account. This was the kind of place that you would rarely see people talking to each other, and where it was strongly discouraged to be on your phone at all. It was a MAN’s gym, and I had started going there just the year before; after I’d started feeling like I had outgrown the more expensive ‘soft-core’ gyms, in the more trendy part of town where most of the gays went, and where the change rooms were indistinguishable from a bathhouse. I had certainly had my fun getting fucked in the showers a few times, and sucking strangers’ cocks in the sauna, but the novelty wore off pretty quickly and I wanted somewhere more serious about actually working out.
I wasn’t a bad looking dude, in fact I was quite handsome for a kid. And I’d put on about 30 pounds of muscle from when I’d first joined a gym after high school. I’d been very popular when I started going out to party at the clubs. But I realized that I liked weightlifting for so much more than the way it made me look: it made me FEEL good. There were few things more satisfying than feeling a workout get easier, and moving up to the next set of weights. I was proud of myself, and I had goals. I was going to push myself harder and go farther than I’d ever thought possible for myself back when I was just a lanky teenager. I had a big torso and chest, round traps, nice wide back, arms were getting bigger and bigger, and legs like tree trunks…but it was my ass that I worked on the most. Part genetics, part luck, and many parts hard work, I had something not a lot of other guys could compete with. I guess that’s probably directly related to the part of my persona that makes me a total bottom. I had a really nice dick too, so who knows if I would be still be a bottom if I didn’t have the ass that I had?
Just a couple hours after I’d seen Jason for the first time, I was in the change room having just come out of the shower and was about to start putting my clothes back on, when I heard a noise from behind me. I turned and nearly bumped into this god-like man–he had been RIGHT behind me; apparently he’d stashed his stuff in the locker directly beside mine. The massive change rooms were a bit like a maze, and you could get to any locker by walking down or around any number of different aisles, and my usual locker was along one of the farthest sections, almost at the back, close to where the hall to the showers led. I remember basically just staring at him in shock, with his towel wrapped around his waist and slung low enough that I could revel in the incredible sight of his naked torso. He was a beast, definitely one of the most muscular guys I’d ever seen in real life, maybe just slightly less sculpted than my trainer Ryan.
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I snapped back to the present. Thinking of that day all those years ago was not helping. I felt my eyes burn a little, but I wasn’t going to let myself break. Every year on this day I turned into a walking catastrophe, and even now 3-years after the fact, something in my brain shut down-probably from the sense of loss-and left me moving around like an emptied out shell.
I finished cooking dinner, and I opened up a bottle of Jack. I knew what would happen if I let myself drown my sorrows in alcohol, but I still felt powerless to stop it. I drank until the bottle was almost empty. I had more-or-less had my alcoholism under control for the last year, maybe a bit less. I could have a drink without feeling the need to get drunk enough that I could forget about everything…but tonight I didn’t have the power to stop myself; and I knew exactly what was going to happen even as I had been throwing the ice cubes into the glass for that first drink. I hated that even after all this time, thinking about Jason could bring me to this place. I just wanted to crawl into a hole and disappear. But I couldn’t stand the idea that he still had so much power over me.
I took out my phone and sent that inevitable text. This time, I almost hesitated before I hit ‘send’. I knew that in the morning I’d hate myself, and I might not be the only one. But this was why I had started drinking tonight: to give myself the courage I needed to make this happen. I could never do what I was about to do if I was sober. And it was the only thing that seemed like it might make me forget about Jason.
Ryan knocked at my door in less than 30 minutes, looking as incredible as ever. He was in his off-season, but his massive body still had incredible definition and I found it even more sexy than when he was cutting before his competitions. He came inside the door, smiling at me, but his smile drooped a little when he saw how drunk I had gotten. I didn’t care, I knew that he was hopelessly in love with me, and would fuck me escort gebze when I offered myself to him, because I knew he would do anything if it might lead to having the chance to be with me.
I know how fucked up that is. I know that it makes me a terrible person. And I’m even aware enough of it that I put effort into making sure something like this doesn’t happen, that I don’t give him any reason to think that I might actually love him back the same way…except this day–just like last year.
I pulled off my shirt and threw it onto the couch, as I led him towards my bedroom. I didn’t say a word, and I could tell he felt awkward–but he followed me just the same, slowly unbuttoning his shirt. When we were standing in front of my bed, I turned around so we were facing each other, though I had to look up to meet his eyes, he was a good four inches taller than me. I put my hands on his belt buckle, undoing it as I looked deep into his beautiful brown eyes. I pulled his jeans down and he silently lifted first one leg, and then the other, stepping out of them and now standing in front of me in just his underwear. I hooked my thumbs under the waistband of my jeans, pulling them and my underwear down in one quick movement, and sat down on my bed now completely naked.
I was still looking right into his eyes, and there was no denying the hunger Ryan had in his eyes for me. He was eager, bordering on desperate. He also had a deep sadness in his look as he stood over me, knowing that the only thing that motivated me to have him share my bed was the alcohol. I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with me. Ryan has been one of my best friends for so many years, even way before I had met Jason. He had been my trainer, but it didn’t take long before we were hanging out all the time outside the gym. I remember the night he made it clear that he had feelings for me. It was just a few months after Jason had ended things with me, just before I had sunk into alcoholism, and slipped into complete depression.
I never had any idea that he had fallen in love with me. I didn’t even know he wasn’t straight; I had met his previous girlfriend on many occasions. But at that moment, I was still so distraught at having lost Jason, the shock of finding out one of my best friends was in love with me didn’t really seem to hit me. I remember he told me, but it might as well have gone in one of my ears and right out the other. I mean, I understood what he was saying, but I couldn’t really wrap my mind around it because I was too self-involved to process it, and the only thing on my mind was Jason. I responded by telling him that I loved him as a friend, and somehow he managed not to let it interfere with our friendship.
He had not been all that happy about my relationship with Jason, at least at first. I knew he couldn’t understand what it was I had seen in Jason. On a purely physical level, Ryan was actually even more perfect. His body was sculpted for winning medals on podiums. He spent nearly all his free time in the gym. And he wasn’t vapid either, he had studied bio-chem at university, and worked in pharmacology. He had traveled a lot when he was younger, he could speak German and Italian in addition to English, and he was also really kind. I had met him in the gym when he had seen me training, not even a month after I had signed up, and came over to correct my form. He had been so intimidating, I thought he was coming over to tell me off about something. But he had smiled, introduced himself, and asked me what I was looking to work out. He adjusted my movements and told me I could always ask him for advice whenever I saw him.
I hired him as a trainer the following week, he had told me that he wasn’t really looking for clients anymore–he had mostly stopped training other guys when he started focusing on competitions, but he made an exception for me. He was dating a beautiful woman named Erika at the time, and it never crossed my mind for a second that this gorgeous guy would ever have a thing for me (of all people!) But over the next couple of years he and I became very close, and he became extremely protective of me. I never knew if that was a factor in his breakup with Erika, he didn’t like to talk about it. He just said they had grown apart, and he was happier on his own. They had been together for 9 years, ever since his 20th birthday. He told me he was going to enjoy just taking some time for himself.
The first time he met Jason, I was scared he was going to throw a punch. Jason had gone to get himself a drink, and left me and Ryan talking for a moment. I asked Ryan what he thought of this new, incredible man in my life, and he faltered for a moment before he said something about just wanting me to be happy. But Jason had returned a moment later, drink in hand, and walked up behind me, putting his arms around me protectively and pulling me back against him. I swear I saw Ryan’s face darken, contorted with rage. I could see his fist tighten, and I looked up at him in shock. He noticed my fear and suddenly it was like he came out of a trance–his smile reappeared, and he relaxed his body. Jason hadn’t even escort merter noticed a thing, but I was terrified that Ryan would always have a problem with Jason.
Ryan was a true gentleman though; I had no idea how deeply in love with me he was until that night several months after Jason left me. It was probably a couple of years into our relationship before he had finally come to accept that Jason and I were together for the long-haul. I don’t know how he had managed to put our friendship first, and make me feel so supported when I would talk to him about how happy this other man made me. He was selfless to a fault. After their first meeting, I had pulled him aside and asked him about what I had seen. He told me he just didn’t want to see me get hurt. I remember he said that he was good at reading people, and he was certain that Jason was bad for me. But I told him that I had fallen for Jason so completely, that even if he was going to hurt me it was too late to do anything about it anyway. I asked him to support me, to support us, because he knew that he and Kevin were the only family that I had left, and I needed him to accept that Jason loved me and was going to take care of me.
I never knew that Ryan spent that entire first year of my relationship with Jason hating him, ready to tear him limb from limb if he hurt me. He didn’t tell me that part until after Jason and I were over. But I would never have guessed that it was mostly due to the fact that Ryan was in love with me. And here I am, fully knowing that Ryan would take a bullet before letting me get hurt, dangling myself in front of him completely aware that he is powerless when it comes to me-even if I never reciprocate his feelings. But the Jack Daniel’s had done its job. I was numb to those facts, and all that mattered was that I needed to feel strong arms around me, a muscular chest pressed against my back, a man burying his load deep inside me.
I pulled my legs up onto the bed and turned to my side, making sure that my ass was facing him. I parted my legs a little bit and arched my back. It was slutty, even for me. But it had the effect I needed it to. I could see Ryan’s erection pushing out against his underwear. He quickly pulled them off and his massive cock jumped back up like a spring, smacking against his tight abs, reaching all the way up past his navel.
He got on the bed and immediately started kissing me. I closed my eyes, and let the whisky do its job, bringing my imagination to work and allowing myself to believe it was Jason.
Ryan’s soft, pink lips kissed me all over my neck, slowly moving their way from one side to the other, kissing down to the top of my chest, and up to my cheek. After several minutes of long, slow kissing on every part of my neck, he kissed me right on the lips, parting my own with his tongue. I opened my mouth to receive his kiss, but kept my eyes clamped shut. ‘Jason. This is Jason!’ I kept repeating to myself, and nothing else mattered; not the breakup, not the years that had gone by, not the fact that he left me without ever so much as saying another word to me. He was back, and he was kissing me deeply and with so much passion.
I moaned as Ryan started kissing me with more aggression, massaging my lips and biting them gently, and I used the piercing running through my tongue to play with his tongue. His hand started roaming its way down my muscular abdomen. He kissed me with so much desire. He stroked his hand up and down the inside of my thigh as he moved his body on top of mine. I spread my legs, and helped bring him in-between them, as I felt his cock leaking precum everywhere its velvety head touched my skin. And still I kept my eyes shut. His passionate kissing was heating me up. Or maybe it was the bottle of Jack. He broke off the kiss for a moment, as he positioned himself at my hole, bringing my ankles to rest on his broad shoulders. I heard him spit, and felt his fingers entering me and getting me slick and open. I heard him working the spit all over his cock, and knew it was time. I pushed myself open for him in anticipation. He leaned back down and started kissing me again, slowly, as he started sliding his cock inside me. I moaned through the kiss, he was so big. He definitely had the largest cock that had ever fucked me. It was longer, and thicker than any other guy I’d ever seen. But it was barely a few seconds before I felt his balls press against my ass, and knew he was all the way inside me.
I could feel that my pussy was stretched wide around his giant cock, I could only imagine how gaping my hole would be after he was finished with me, but even as stuffed and full as I was with his cock, I was so numb from drinking that I didn’t really feel it. He started thrusting in and out of me, and I made passionate moans of excitement and pleasure that I didn’t really feel. I just wanted him to keep going, to feel like I was really into it. He kissed me as he fucked me, and there was no way to miss how much love he put into every touch of my body. He made love to me, his grunts and moans were so real, so deep, I knew this was heaven for him. I also knew that deep in his heart, he knew that I did not love him back, at least not the way he desired. He was trying, desperately, to show me how much he loved me. I hope he didn’t know that the entire time I kept my eyes shut so tight because I knew that if I saw his face instead of Jason’s, I would break down completely.
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