The Joy of Gay Sex
by Gail (gem225@hotmail.com)
from Michael's pov, part 5
Rating: adult
Please do not archive this story without asking me first. The copyright belongs to me.
Thanks to Tinnean for her beta and her idea for the title, and many wishes for a most happy birthday.
*****
I walked into the bookstore. Now where were the books on gay sex? I'd been in this Borders before, but I hadn't explored it. I could find the fiction and the registers. Well, I'd browse through the store until I found what I was looking for. There was not a chance in hell I'd ask for assistance or accept it.
I could have looked for the books I wanted online and ordered them, but I disliked purchasing anything sight unseen, especially books. I didn't mind spending money, but I didn't like throwing it away, and it wasn't as though I could give the books to anyone if I found them boring or uninformative. No, I needed to leaf through them, make sure that what I was going to buy would tell me more about what men who liked men - of which it would seem I was one now - wanted from their lovers.
I supposed that Brian thought of me as his lover. He seemed the romantic type. Well, he was welcome to. His delusion would keep him coming back, and what I did with him would too. But it had been a long time since I'd done anything with a man, the nights with Brian excluded of course, and I was damned if Brian Cameron was going to have any reason to compare me unfavorably to the men he'd been with.
I was curious too. What else was there? Since I'd made up my mind to keep Brian and give him what he needed, there was no reason to stint myself. And I was sure after last night that a simple regime of sucking and fucking would bore us both.
*****
I was in the Cooking section, trying to decide why the hell anyone would want to go to the trouble of making sushi when it was readily available - maybe for cheapskates and people who had to live in sushi-less parts of the world - when I heard a soft cough. I made sure not to turn my head. If the person coughing knew me he would address me. If he didn't, he - or she - could go the fuck away.
"Hi there."
The voice didn't sound familiar, but I glanced over. No, no one I knew - a young woman with a tag on her chest, so a store employee.
"Finding everything you want?"
"Yes. Thank you." I smiled, and she smiled back.
"I'm here if you need anything."
Oh, yes, just point me to the gay sex section because I need to know how to fuck my... lover in ways I've never thought of, and no, I don't want to hear your ideas of how I could be reformed. "If I do, I'll ask."
She nodded, still smiling, and walked away. I closed my eyes for a minute, then moved in the opposite direction. The damned books had to be here somewhere.
After looking through the calendars, travel books, comic collections, insipid romances, medical tomes, and coffee-table glossy art collections, I came to the Gay and Lesbian section, finally. It consisted of two bookcases, five shelves each - more than I'd expected. I checked my surroundings again. No one near me, no one looking at me. Good. Then I started scanning the spines. None interested me until I came to one titled "The Joy of Gay Sex". Hm. I pulled it out. I'd flip through it and buy it if it seemed useful. It might even be enough for now. The title suggested comprehensive coverage.
I flipped to the title page and frontispiece, and my dick stirred at the black-and-white drawing of two men fucking. I swallowed and turned the pages. More pictures, and when I could tear my attention away from them and from the thoughts of how I wanted to act them out with Brian, text on an equally enticing number of subjects. I found myself licking my lips, my face hot and I was sure reddened, and balancing the hardcover with one hand while the other went for my erection, and closed the book and made my wayward hand retreat. That was not acceptable behavior, and I would not allow it. Thank god no one was around to see my momentary loss of control. I could go through the book later in the comfort and privacy of my living room, after I'd bought it, and do whatever I wanted.
I tucked it under my arm and detoured to the cookbooks. I'd get one for my current stepmother, who never cooked to my knowledge, but claimed to adore cooking. Maybe I'd get cookbooks for my sisters too, not that they cooked either. They could always pass them on to their cooks. It was funny - I was a man, and therefore by the rules of society not expected to know how to do much more in a kitchen than boil water, and maybe operate a microwave oven, but I had mastered the fundamentals - steak, spaghetti, and coffee - while the women in my family could possibly make coffee, but I wouldn't risk my taste buds to find out.
I picked out three, making sure they were both full of color photographs and elaborate recipes, tucked them on top of my book, carried the pile to the cashier, and held myself ready to respond to the reaction.
There was none. She rang up all the books as coolly as if she saw men buy cookbooks and gay sex manuals every day. Well, for all I knew, she did.
I handed her six twenties, pocketed my change, picked up the bag, and left.
*****
I stopped on the way home for a turkey club sandwich and some coffee so that I'd be able to focus on my new book without interruption. A quick change of clothes and a glass of water, and I was sitting on my couch with "The Joy of Gay Sex" in my hands.
My dick was stirring again, but I resisted reaching down to stroke it through my pants. Research first, pleasure later.
I opened the book, made myself go past the frontispiece again with a promise to have Brian on his back again for me very soon - I'd get in touch with him tomorrow and arrange for him to come to me - located the Contents, and scanned the topics. There were a lot of them, and some of them I had no idea what they were. I could start at the beginning and read through, or I could pick a topic I found interesting and go from there.
I had the rest of the evening. I'd start at the beginning and work my way through, skipping any topics that repulsed me.
I flipped to page 1 - I'd read the introduction with its history of the various editions another time - and started reading about the anus. Interesting that it was regarded by gay men as a sexual organ, but not really surprising. I liked the matter-of-fact tone. I moved on to barebacking, something I knew that Brian and I could never risk, to bars - I would never go to one to pick up a man, but I wouldn't have to since I had Brian right where I wanted him - to baths, something else I'd never do - to bears - amazing what these men thought up - to bisexuality, what I must be now, come to think of it, maybe what I'd always been - to blow jobs and a picture - my god, a picture of a man gulping down another man's dick while working his hand under that tempting ass.
My right hand had found its way to my crotch and was cupping the length of my hard dick through my pants. I stared at the picture and made myself breathe. Last night Brian had been on his knees for me, just like that - well, much like that.
If life were fair, he'd be here now. But it wasn't.
Well, since he wasn't here, I'd take care of myself. I shut the book and tossed it on the floor. It hit with a soft thump. I'd read it later.
I undid my zipper, freed my hard dick, and sighed as my fingers closed around it. Better, but not better enough. I shut my eyes and let myself dream of Brian as I worked my dick.
He was stripped and kneeling at my feet, deep-throating my dick, whimpering around it, his hands hot on my balls. Then he was kneeling over me. *Please, Michael, please. I need your cock in me, now.*
He was poised to take my dick with one thrust, but I didn't give him the yes he was looking for. I let him beg me over and over again, hearing his voice get more and more desperate until I knew from his eyes if I didn't give him permission he'd take it. I didn't want that. He had to know I was in charge.
*Yes. Fuck yourself on me.*
Before I finished he'd thrust himself down on me. I heard myself moan at how hot and tight he was, how desperately he wanted me.
It was all fantasy, though. What was real was my hand on my dick.
I shuddered and worked myself harder, the image of Brian's lean body over mine and his intense and desperate eyes so real even though I knew better.
When I came, it was with the sound of Brian's voice crying out as he came and the sight of his ecstatic face.
My breathing slowed, and I opened my eyes. Damn. I wanted Brian here, now, but it was too late to call him. I'd clean up, read more of the book, and make sure that he came to me tomorrow night.
After all, he needed me.
*****
Posted 1/7/05
