Spammer by Anel Viz

“Spammer”

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(Author’s note: In keeping with the theme of Internet spam, I have not given the main character of this story a name.)

9. Two Years of Unwedded Bliss

Norm was right. The emails stopped. For the next few days at work they could see Joel watching them, intently but surreptitiously, trying to figure out if Norm had told him, but he kept a straight face and didn’t let on, and eventually Joel relaxed, either because he thought Norm hadn’t or because he saw that he wouldn’t find out.

Not that he found it easy not to look at Joel and speculate, not about his equipment or what it would be like having sex with him, but about what his life was like, married and in the closet. Good thing, he thought, that he never married.

He’d had sex with girls once or twice back in high school, and it did nothing for him. Then for a few years he’d cruise men in the park, in public toilets, places like that. He stopped when he realized how risky it was. A couple of guys got caught and got themselves arrested, including one he’d sucked off a couple of times. He went to the town’s only gay bar every so often after he turned twenty-one, but he was very much in the closet and preferred to stay there. Someone might see him there or an openly gay man would approach him some day. He made a number of contacts on line, and drove all the way up to the Twin Cities to hook up with them, but most of them stood him up, and all but one or two of those who didn’t were big disappointments, fat and ugly, or dirty, or they only wanted a blowjob and wouldn’t touch him themselves, or it was just watching each other jack off.

For the next seven or eight years, not counting a handful of not very satisfying exceptions, he’d gone on with his life in celibate frustration, which he relieved night after night in the lonely darkness of his bedroom. Waiting two years for Norm, becoming more certain that he’d have him with every email he received, was no problem for him. And now he had him.

He probably wouldn’t have waited Joel hadn’t sent those emails. In a sense he owed the guy, but he had no way to repay him. He knew what it must be like for him. He knew firsthand that for a man attracted to other men being able to get your rocks off regularly with a woman does not make the hunger any more bearable than getting them off manually. And when you have to cheat, the risk of being found out and the fear that goes with it are ten times greater. Having a young man who couldn’t afford a place of his own for a roommate, when the two of you are best buds and your friends had all urged you to go ahead and give it a try, was about as safe as you could get, and he expected he had a better and more active sex life than any of the married guys he knew.

Would he have had sex with Joel if things had worked out differently? No question about it. They’d probably be in a clandestine relationship right now. They guy a was a pretty good friend, not half bad looking, safely in the closet, and available. Sure, he’d hedged the night Norm asked him point blank, but what was the point? Norm knew the answer, and the chances of his getting involved with Joel now were less than nil. He was in love and monogamous at heart. He had never felt good about the forced promiscuity of his late teens and early twenties.

Maybe once a month Norm would stay out all night, which he knew meant he was fucking some broad. He didn’t mind. The kid needed to reassure himself he wasn’t gay, and maybe he wasn’t, not a hundred percent, but he was gay enough, and in the long run when he decided it was time to swing one way or the other, his gay side would win out and he’d swing with him for the rest of their lives. His lovemaking proved it. Passionate, insatiable, uninhibited, and deeply gratifying. He didn’t hide how he enjoyed it; nine times out of ten he initiated it. He never tired of exploring his lover’s body, caressing it, and melted when he touched him in turn. He sucked him greedily, and loved to be sucked. He fucked him with abandon, and loved being fucked. He luxuriated in every second they spent having sex. And how often he said, “No woman could do that!”

How beautiful he was, too! More beautiful than when he’d first seen him, a new kid at the plant; more beautiful than when he’d pinned him to the floor and ripped his pants off. He was a man now, a beautiful man, his blond hair slightly darker, his gray eyes more self-assured, less gawky in his movements, his shoulders broader, his muscles more defined, his jaw more square and masculine, his face rough with stubble and not a zit on it (most of the time), the hair in his crotch and armpits thicker, his smell muskier, and his glorious sex no longer responsive to the mere thought of sex, but to him.

Joel? Never.

Posted: 10/24/08