by Thomas Whispers
(08/04/10)

Benjamin could feel Jeremy inside of him even when they were not anywhere near one another. Further up, deeper, there was that thickening heat, and that slightly saline-tasting girth on his tongue. Benjamin felt full with a subtly distilled light, as if his flesh were paraffin. Benjamin cherished this secret pleasure, and although the physicality was certainly there right after he and Jeremy made love, at other times Benjamin could summon it by a means of sensuous meditation. E.T. phone home. It was as if Jeremy's cock, his probing finger, had the capacity to be a radiant wand, one which rose through his neurons to fibrously connect with both his own heart and Benjamin's. Benjamin once saw a watercolor painting of two men embracing, the outlines of their bodies superimposed so as to be indistinguishable where one began and the other stopped. Jeremy and I are like that, Benjamin thought, feeling a little tingle in his scrotum and up his spine. Comfort was the name Benjamin gave to this phenomenon, and he knew that it, like Jeremy, was an immense blessing in his life.

Nine years they'd been together, nearly a decade, and considering their past relationships which had durations of what felt like Dante quantity, the quality of these nine years did a great deal to heal those scars. Another milestone was the fact that Jeremy was turning sixty to Benjamin's forty-five, and so it seemed to Benjamin that, miraculously, they did appear to be in this pact for the long haul. Like gladiators shedding their capes above their tunics, Benjamin felt that he and Jeremy should stand high on a mountain peak, raise their arms, and let a bit of celebratory sun douse their outstretched necks. Benjamin felt this especially since so many had bet against them.

It wasn't just the fact that the society they lived in often frowned on them for being a couple. No. It was the realization that some of the people in their own tribe could be equally petty, superficial, and stupid. Beauty and the Beast. Troll and Forest Waif. Benjamin knew it was not only the age difference between him and Jeremy which others saw as fodder for their relationship's demise, but the fact that Jeremy was a Bear and Benjamin was cute that rankled their foolish esthetics.

Fuck 'em, Benjamin reasoned, having spent years rolling his eyes and chuckling over the misconception that he must be with Jeremy for his money, when in fact, thanks to an inheritance, Benjamin was the one who had more cash reserves. Jeremy just didn't like Benjamin to spend it on him, and of course it sometimes bothered Jeremy that people mistook him for being Benjamin's father, of all things, but he and Benjamin both knew Benjamin used a daily keg of moisturizer to still masquerade as someone who could pass for being in his late twenties. Age, vanity and folly. It was best to just laugh. These people were as dumb as the so-called straight men that still furtively pursued Benjamin.

In various clerical jobs since their relationship began, it was these men who disturbed Benjamin the most, none-too-surreptitiously looking at his crotch when he was alone with them in their offices or the restroom, and then ignoring him when talking sports and yuk-yuking with their cronies around the water cooler. Hey buddy, hey pal, hey dude, they would call to one another, even when they were the same age as Jeremy and part of the company's upper echelon. Their posing was so obvious to Benjamin, but apparently not to one another or the women in the office, except for the occasional perceptive lesbian who gave them a wide berth too.

"How boneheaded they are," one had commented to Benjamin on occasion. "It's as if they don't think gay men play sports. What about the ancient Greeks. Hell-o-oo."

Yes, and what about all the times when I like to be a top, Benjamin thought.

The idea that they thought Benjamin was just fey enough for them to still be the man with really bugged him, as did their covert efforts to try and speak with him about something cultural they figured he'd find an interest in, because they wanted to reveal that they had a cultural sensitive side too. More eye-rolling. Benjamin wanted to tell them the only culture they had came from their latest clap test, but he was simply too quiet, quiet and nervous, as shy as he'd been while dealing with similar crap, or worse, in high school. Benjamin felt it was better to try and take a more anthropological view, to pretend he was a corporate Jane Goodall, observing the seductive mating techniques of cubicle baboons and chimps. He'd seen a documentary on a bunch of silverbacks who were all gay until Dian Fossey introduced some females into the mix. Even then, bisexuality remained, as well as male-coupling. Yes, especially when he aloofly ignored these closet office cases their more primal natures came out, a sort of blue-balled chest-pounding and barking of orders, as if these men were scorned alpha heroes.

Still, beyond internal sarcasm, Benjamin did not entirely lack empathy for these guys. He just wished they could be smarter about wanting to have sex, or to at least, as friends of his did, define themselves as gay/bi or poly. For them to assume he'd have sex with them simply because he was gay but keep it on the q-t like they did, he found dishonest and insulting. Of course he also knew there were plenty of gay men who got off on such cat-and-mouse chases, as much as these so-called straight men got off on the idea of being worshipped with desire, but Benjamin wasn't about to do that. His nature, ruined by old romantic movies, was to fall in love, and he'd had plenty of bruises to that idealism over the years.

He felt sorry for the wives and girlfriends of these office men, and didn't really feel like listening to them complain about said wives and girlfriends. That would be dreary and tawdry, and he instinctively felt the majority of them were not in some kind of thoughtful open relationship, some sophisticated circle of sexual fluidity. Truth is, when he was single, young and lonely, having placed hope on encouraged crushes, eventually Benjamin realized these guys just wanted to get their rocks off. What stirred his grumpiness even more is when he'd hear some of these guys using anti-gay jargon. Butt-boy, flamer, faggot, that's so gay, making locker rooms out of office buildings when here they were supposed to be professionals. That was when Benjamin wished he could get these guys on video being fucked by six foot black drag queens and loving every minute of it. Why not? Especially if their wives and girlfriends were as homophobic. Benjamin had similar fantasies of gay men by the truckload going into known gay-bashing districts and kicking some heinous straight boy butt.

Unfortunately, having a conscience ruined all hope of enacting any of these dreams in reality. "I mean," he'd say to his therapist, "These guys had to get royally screwed up somewhere along the lines by the same sort of pressures I've had to face, plus what if their girlfriends or wives are actually nice. I wouldn't want to hurt them then." Guilt.

"Your thoughts are not an actuality-in-the-making." His therapist would say. "It's good to get in touch with your anger because you obviously take it out on yourself otherwise."

"I suppose so." Benjamin acquiesced, and at times he did have to laugh because so many people he'd known in life considered him to be so sweet.

Sweet is what his ex, Seth, called Benjamin time and again, that and "My angel, my life-saver. I couldn't live without you." Deer in the headlights, a late bloomer, and born caretaker/rescuer, Benjamin was ripe material for The Ballad of Co-dependency. A good masochist, he did it for six years too, through Seth's various detox stays and job firings and blowing the rent money, and even hiding drunk rough trade or jailbait in their apartment while Benjamin was at work. Seth somehow deluded himself that Benjamin wouldn't catch on, even when Benjamin would open a closet door and find the naked trick passed out on a sea of porn tapes, or come home to find the trick half falling out of the bed he and Seth shared. How Benjamin wanted to exact revenge on Seth by having sex with the trick himself, but he was always too disgusted, angry, and overwhelmed.

Eventually this constant overwhelming anxiety caught up with Benjamin as a full-blown nervous breakdown at age thirty-five. While he was in the hospital, Seth picked up a trick who nearly dashed his brains out with some blunt instrument, and Benjamin finally got enough survival instinct not only to move out and stay out, but help Seth pack to go live with his family in another state. Odd how a cycle of childhood abuse can play itself out, Seth being taken in by the mother he used to mix drinks for, raising his siblings while she stayed in bed."I love a psychotic," Bette Davis said in All About Eve, one of Seth's favorite films, and Benjamin figured he'd played his part in such melodrama to the hilt. In retrospect, it was obvious to Benjamin that he certainly must have loved Seth, or why else would he have stayed, but it was also obvious that using empathy as a badge to claim veteran status in the trenches of gay oppression lacked a maturity he had to start taking responsibility for.

By the time he met Jeremy, at a gay men's spirituality group, two years on, Benjamin was more than ready to prove himself an open and adult gay man. No wonder Benjamin didn't want to play Blanche Dubois, or even Stella, to any Stanley Kowalski. By the time he met Jeremy, Benjamin didn't even like to utter the phrase "my ex, Seth," for it made him sound like he had an inbred lisp and one more stereotypical tick to guard.

Jeremy laughed when Benjamin made this declaration, Jeremy who'd survived his own battles on the way to becoming Out and Proud. These were long in the past however, by the time he and Benjamin started dating, and it wasn't until they'd been dating a year that they realized they were creating something serious. Not that all of Jeremy's wounds didn't lead to wondrous outcomes. He had a son and two grandchildren he and Benjamin loved unconditionally. Plus his wounds from marriage helped him accept his sexuality, his transformation beyond his own battles with alcohol and inner childhood demons. Benjamin was impressed by all Jeremy had overcome. Jeremy just didn't seem high maintenance in the least, and after three more years of dating, Benjamin finally discovered enough trust within himself for them to buy a house together.

Golden time -- his hand on Jeremy's thigh as it so often was, Benjamin contemplated all the emotional territory the two of them had traversed leading up to this time: Jeremy's sixtieth birthday.

They were staying at a secluded cabin loaned by straight friends of theirs for this momentous occasion -- good, kind friends who were also taking care of Benjamin and Jeremy's pets while they were away. No greyhounds, no parrots, no cats, or fish. Their much-loved familial menagerie from the animal world were in fine capable hands, and any other worries, responsibilities, or pressures could just go on the back burner for awhile too. There was just this moment now, Benjamin feeling the warmth of Jeremy's thigh, under his hand, the thigh he instinctively loved to touch while they went driving.

Now Jeremy, his steadfast driver, was stretched in front of a fireplace, the crackling embers within emblazoning his skin. Small beads of shower water glistened on him head to foot, drying so slowly on each dark strand of hair that Benjamin felt like he was holding his breath while watching them. The incredibly large artificial bear rug he and Jeremy lay on felt plush and husky as a benevolent God christening their union. Viking lovers must have nestled so, mellow on fur after imbibing spiced grog.

An "Mmmm, that's good," came from Jeremy's throat as Benjamin took Jeremy's strong index finger into his mouth. Jeremy's finger was dexterous from all his time spent writing notes for his health care job. Benjamin could sense the patter and electricity of a keyboard sending energy out into the world from Jeremy's spirit. He could taste the thoughtfulness of that spirit as his lips circled round. Benjamin's tongue curved as his own slender fingers danced across the hair on the back of Jeremy's hand, eventually putting his face in Jeremy's broad palm. The lifelines were deep, the mounds cushiony, as Benjamin's lashes brushed them and his feathery respirations poured.

"Yesss," Jeremy whispered, his voice a bass of smoky velvet as he cupped Benjamin's chin, releasing his finger to kiss Benjamin deeply. For awhile they were tongues only, tongues darting as the flames in the fireplace did. Their mouths became bells for one another, wet clappers ringing sighs and hints of moans as Benjamin, with ease, rolled on top of Jeremy and their limbs intertwined. Arm around arm, leg around leg, swathes of muscle, of smooth satin, and then the deliciously rougher threads, curls and bristles, created subtle rhythm. Their cocks were certainly hard, two reeds playing a song from the holes in each tip. As the shafts brushed and brushed, Benjamin licked Jeremy's arm pits, drinking in the pores for their humanness, their scents of being alive.

Arms unwound, hands finding nipples, circling the pink stiffness, the goosebumps rippling out while their faces moved over chests, rubbing the meadows there, teeth occasionally slightly nibbling, then sucking what was now firm, what was now soft. Benjamin moved down and drew in Jeremy's stout cock to Jeremy's groan of delight, feeling Jeremy's pubes tickling like small friendly fronds. As Benjamin's warm throat opened, his chin grazed Jeremy's balls, bobbing like a buoy on a gentle sea hinting of tumult in further fathoms. His tongue moving back up, Benjamin navigated Jeremy's crown again and again, passionately lashing the swollen nub, and then slowing with a tenderness that was almost painful with ecstasy.

Jeremy's oh god, ooohhh from above translated a need for Benjamin to lift up while going down, and Benjamin could hardly hear since it was like a susurrus of wings in his ears, a sound of mmpppff coming from his own throat and vibrating against Jeremy's cock. Also, Benjamin could feel Jeremy's pelvic pulse like a throttle, a chugging, where he held him by the mast and steered up the churning pre-come, the salty clear nectar matching his spit. They were linking through that wetness, a sperm-bound bond.

To delay the pleasure of climax, Benjamin rose and turned, placing his milk-silken buttocks on Jeremy's groin while reaching over for the honey bear he'd placed before the fire. Shake, shake, and a golden stream covered Jeremy's rosy toes as Benjamin started licking and sucking again, cleansing and teasing until the stickiness was gone. He rubbed Benjamin's calves and thighs all the while, touching the oaken texture of them, massaging the muscles, the tendons to a shine.

A wrestler of ease, Jeremy meanwhile lightly lifted Benjamin, sliding himself out from under and crouching before Benjamin's butt. With steady, reassuring pressure, he encouraged Benjamin to lie on his stomach, Jeremy's hands now doing the rubbing, working first again on Benjamin's nipples before finding themselves above, exploring the landscape of Benjamin's back. How the flats of the shoulders lost all tension, the xylophone spine, all resistance as shake, squeeze harder, Jeremy squirted the honey between Benjamin's willing cheeks. Mouth on the rose, the opening petals, Jeremy's tongue probed, and lapped, slipping over each curve of melting felt, then going back in as he pulled Benjamin's cock between, burying his face against the musk of both cock and balls.

Jeremy felt so fortunate, knowing how in their first months, though both HIV negative, Benjamin and he agreed to insist on the sacredness of safe sex, on saran wrap, on latex, until they continued to test negative for a year. He remembered how unsure, how insecure and cautious Benjamin had been after his time with Seth, and how inadequate Benjamin had felt from his lack of experience with others compared to Jeremy's three-ways and affirming rituals of the flesh at nude beaches. He recollected, too, their childlike exploration with the flavors of different condoms, whipped cream, and jams, their cocks an assortment of popsicle sticks, their asses, pies.

"We've come a long way baby," he said, as Benjamin this time did the slipping out from under him, and actually stood up in all his graying blonde, love-handled self.

"What are you doing?"

"You get up too," Benjamin responded, pulling Jeremy by the hand. "I want to take a picture of you in that."

Benjamin pointed at the artificial bear rug, and Jeremy laughing, shaking his head, did as instructed.

Not far from where they'd been making love was an old wide rocking chair with a leather back and seat. Benjamin ceremoniously arranged the bear rug into it and motioned Jeremy to sit down.

"A throne fit for a king," Benjamin said, smiling, arranging the bear's head over Jeremy's head and stepping away.

"Now look at me with the knowledge that I love you with all of my being." Benjamin's voice almost had a catch to it, though it was filled with resolve.

"Yes, sir, and back at you." Jeremy answered, trying to make sure his eyes did not well. Both their erections were still prominent as Benjamin clicked the camera and, still glowing with a smile, came to stand behind the rocker. He bent it backwards and kissed Jeremy as if to devour him, then tilted it more so his cock landed bulls-eye against Jeremy's lips. Jeremy opened them and took Benjamin in.

Rock, rock, creak, creak, as Benjamin moved the chair he carefully but steadily moved his legs up the wall, and soon they were in a most unusual yet perfect sixty-nine. Benjamin continued to push with his feet, his head cradled over the wonderful roundness of Jeremy's belly as both of their mouths slipped up and down. Benjamin held onto Jeremy's shins as though climbing a ladder, their pre-come becoming frothier, their moans louder and more intense.

"Not yet." Benjamin sighed, sliding his feet onto the strong maple arms of the chair, and then down Jeremy's legs, to just as quickly turn around and shimmy back up. Their lube stock was handy and quickly made use of over Jeremy's trembling cock and Benjamin's receptive behind. Rock, rock, creak, creak, Jeremy was in and up, his cock like a lantern combing the ruddy mica walls of Benjamin's shimmering cave. The chair's motion, controlled by his feet, propelled Jeremy's cock where it wanted to go, where it wanted to be taken, the rocking as smooth as their desire bringing them home.

Oh oh Oh yes yes God yes OOOOOHHHHHH..., were the words to their tune, as one shot in and the other shot out until they collapsed gasping, wet with sweat and life ropes of come into the joy of each other's arms.

Later, basking in the hot tub, warm to their bones despite the fact that a little snow had been falling, Benjamin watched as flakes softly sifted from branches, blew and created a sort of halo on the dew of Jeremy's flesh, the silvery pepper of his head. Through the steam from the tub, Jeremy's wolf-eyes glowed grey-blue. He is like a Poseidon, Benjamin dreamed, especially now that he's rising, putting on that white terry cloth robe.

Jeremy had not tied the flaps of the robe, and Benjamin stood to taste the ginger of his tongue while stroking and stroking Jeremy's still damp cock.

"Do you want me inside of you this time?" Benjamin whispered. "Do you want me stroking you while I fuck you until you spill your stream and melt one with this snow?"

"Oh, but that does sound good, and I bet it would steam too." Jeremy said, turning around. Benjamin pressed in closer, his spit-glistening finger easing Jeremy's hole for the larger thrusts to come.

"Happy birthday," he said.

And it was.

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