Fires of Hell
 

 by: Hankster

© 2016 by the author

The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's consent. Comments are appreciated at...

hankster@tickiestories.us

Prologue

I’ve been to hell and back.  I was once a drug addict.  I use the past tense of the verb, to be, with pride and trepidation.  I constantly fear giving into the devil, and returning to his domain.

I got started at a party, where I was urged to smoke pot.  That didn’t seem so bad, and I could take it or leave it, but at yet another gathering of my friends, someone turned me on to cocaine.  Before I knew what hit me, I was selling off everything I owned, and I began to drain my bank account to buy whatever shit was available; cocaine, heroin, crystal meth…you name it.  I wasn’t fussy.  It didn’t take me long to lose my job, my boyfriend, my family, and all my friends.

Let’s start with my job.  I worked for Bloomingdales, and at the age of twenty-seven I became the manager of the men’s wear department in the Manhattan store.  That was a real achievement.  When the drugs took me over, I was unable to do my job.  I wasn’t simply demoted, I was fired outright.

While I was still a newbie to drugs, it enhanced my sex life, so my boyfriend put up with it.  As the addiction progressed, I couldn’t even get an erection, and David threw me out, not because of the lack of sex, but because of my terrible behavior.  I began to sell off our joint assets for drug money.  The druggie in me was resentful when he threw me out, but when I was sober for a few minutes, I figured who could blame him.

My parents had supported me when I first told them that I was gay, and they genuinely liked David.  I came out to them on the very day when David and I agreed to live together.  They invited David and me to dinner one evening, and I got so high I could touch the stars.  I don’t remember anything of course, but it seems I got abusive to my parents and David, and started throwing chairs and dinner plates at everyone.  I tried to throw a knife at my father, but fortunately, David wrestled it out of my hands.  My parents told me they never wanted to see me again until I kicked my habit.

At one time I was blessed with a stable full of good buddies, but when I tried to hit them up for drug money, they dropped me faster than hot steel ingots.  Even the “friends” who got me hooked on that shit, turned their backs on me.

One dreadful, terrible night, I did the unthinkable.  I contacted my supplier and arranged a meeting off Tenth Avenue in midtown Manhattan.  The dealer made me assure him that I could pay him in cash.  It was winter, and I was wearing a coat.  I hid a baseball bat under the coat.  When the dealer thought that I was reaching inside my coat for the money, I pulled out the bat and started beating him over the head.  It took some time, but he finally lost consciousness, and I relieved him of all the money he had on him, and his stash.

At the time, I didn’t care if he lived or died.  If he lived, he could never report me, because I could tell the police about his illegal business.  If he died, good luck finding me.  I was homeless.  I am glad to report that my conscience is clear.  Months later, he was back on the streets, still dealing drugs.

I ran to the nearest subway station, and went into a bathroom stall.  I locked the door, and started sniffing everything I had taken from the unfortunate dealer.  I’m not sure how much heroin, or cocaine, or both, I absorbed.  Somewhere along the way I overdosed, and slipped into a coma.  I don’t know who found me and called for help.  All I know is that I woke up in Bellevue Hospital a week later. 

While I was in a coma I saw hell.  The devil and all his helpers kept poking me with fiery steel blades.  My body was in agony, as it went through withdrawal.

I, Brett Haber, had sunk as far as anyone could; to the fires of hell.

-1-

An army of physicians did every possible test on me, and got me started on a discipline of methadone treatments.  Finally, they announced that there was nothing more they could do for me, and they were sending me on to a rehab facility.  I didn’t want to go to another institution.  I just wanted to get out, and back into the world, but I was too weak to argue, and I had no choice in the matter.

When I got there, I made two calls at the first opportunity.  I called David to beg him to visit me, and help me get my life back.  A strange male voice answered the telephone.  He must have known who I was because he said, “Don’t ever call here again.  You’ve caused David enough grief.”  He banged down the phone.  My first thought was that David didn’t waste any time getting himself a new boyfriend, but then I realized that it had been well over a year since David had kicked me out.

My second call was to my parents.  I told them where I was, and my father said, “I’m glad you’re getting help.  When you’re clean and sober, call us, and perhaps your mother and I will visit you.  No promises.”

I sank into a deep depression.  As far as I was concerned I was back in hell.  The only thing missing at this rehab center was the fire.

The drugs and the coma had wreaked havoc on my body.  My muscles had begun to atrophy.  My once hunky frame had shrunk into a skinny body, where chicken skin had replaced muscle.  Besides getting me sober, the facility was determined to see to my physical and spiritual health as well. 

At least once a day, I was visited by a hospital chaplain, who urged me to place my faith in Jesus, and pray for my recovery.  He was so sincere that I didn’t have the heart to tell him that I was an atheist, and his prayers were falling on deaf ears.  So much for my spiritual health. 

Every morning for two hours, I was taken to physical therapy.  It was at my first therapy session that I met Barney.  He was so handsome that as sick as I was, I could feel the lust growing within me.  I believe he looked a lot like I had looked before I fell into the abyss.  He was so buff that I erroneously thought he was my instructor.  It turned out that he was another patient (inmate, I thought was a more appropriate term).  We were joined by two other patients, and then the instructor came in.  He was built a lot like Barney, and there was no mistaking who the teacher was now. 

The instructor introduced himself as Jim Something or Other, and informed us that everyone called him Jimbo.  He asked if we all knew each other, and we shook our heads.  He had us introduce one another and state what we were in for.  I could have sworn he wanted us to tell each other what criminal offense we had committed to be in this prison.  It seems that Barney and a woman were alcohol abusers, while another guy and I were drug addicts.  Fair split!

Jimbo got us started on a series of easy exercises and he made it perfectly clear that the exercises would get longer and harder. When we were done for the day, Jimbo told us to go right to the cafeteria for lunch.  We were all ambulatory inmates, and would not be served in bed.  Naturally, I attached myself to Barney.

“Can I have lunch with you?” I asked.  Barney didn’t answer.  He just shrugged his shoulders.  I took that as a yes.

At lunch, Barney relaxed and opened up to me.  He had once had a promising boxing career, but his addiction put an end to all that.  In spite of the fact that he could no longer box, he continued to work out in a gym.  That explained his muscled body.

“Before I got into drugs,” I told him, “I didn’t have a body like yours, but I was toned and muscular.  I hit the gym at least four nights a week.  I had a good job, a loving boyfriend, family and friends, and I lost it all.”  I buried my head in my hands and started to cry.

Barney remained silent until I got hold of myself.  Then he said, “So you’re gay.”  I realized that I had outed myself when I told him about my boyfriend, David.  All I could do is nod my head.

He took both my hands in his, and said, “I’m gay too.  Let’s help each other kick our habits.”  I assumed that Barney wanted to be my friend, and I was thrilled.  We spent the afternoon in the game room playing cards.  The only time we were disturbed was when a nurse came to give me methadone.

We had dinner together, and Barney invited me back to his room.  I presumed he was inviting me for sex.  I was so unattractive I couldn’t believe it.

“I’m impotent,” I said.  “The drugs have even taken away my manhood.”

“I’m not,” he said. “Maybe we can help each other out in that area also,” he winked at me.  There was no question he wanted me to give him a blow job or let him fuck me.  I was open to both of those glorious acts.

“We both have roommates,” I pointed out.  What about yours?”

“He can watch or turn away.  It’s up to him.”

I asked point blank.  “What would you like, Barney, mouth or ass?”

“Mouth for now,” he smiled at me.  “When you put a few pounds on, I’ll fuck you.”  If that wasn’t incentive for me to get well, nothing was.

We went to Barney’s room, and his roommate was lying in bed watching television.  Barney blew me away, when he said, “Frank, Brett here is going to give me a blow job.  You can watch or turn away.” 

Frank answered the question by glaring at us, and pulling the curtain around his bed, giving us privacy.

“I’d like to give you a trip around the world,” I apologized, “but I don’t have the strength.”

“Don’t worry about it.  Just go for it.” 

We both got undressed and climbed into Barney’s bed.  I ran my hand up and down his torso, and he began to erect.  We did not kiss, but I leaned over and took his seven inch, uncut cock into me.  I did a good job of swabbing him, and moisturizing his endowment.  It had been a long time since I had sucked cock, and I was really enjoying it, when Barney squealed and gushed into my mouth.  I swallowed everything.

“I wonder how that goes with methadone.” I laughed.

Barney held me very tight, but still, very gently.  I think he was afraid that he might break my bones.  I didn’t have much meat to protect them.

Over the next few weeks, I began to gain weight.  The physical therapy was restoring some of my muscle tone.  I still looked like a skeleton, but Barney asked if he could fuck me the next time we had sex.  Of course, I agreed.

Barney fucked me in a missionary position.  His cock massaged my prostate.  It gave me pleasure, but I didn’t get an erection.  However, the pleasure I felt gave me hope for the future.  I told Barney about it, and he hugged me.  “You’re going to be your old self one day soon.  I’ll see to it,” he promised me.

That evening, I lay in bed being happier than I deserved to be.  I began to stroke my cock, and it started to erect.  It wasn’t much of an erection, but it made me very happy.  I thought about masturbating, but I didn’t want to be disappointed if I didn’t make it, so I gave up the idea.

Barney and I had been admitted to the rehab facility on the same day.  At the end of our fifth week, we were told that we would be discharged at the end of six weeks.   I panicked. Where could I go?  Maybe my folks would take me back, now that I was sober, but I couldn’t be sure.

Barney picked up on my distress.  He asked me what was wrong.  When I told him I was homeless, and had no place to go, he actually laughed.

“You’ll stay with me,” he asserted.  “I’ve got a little nest egg saved from my boxing days.  I need you to keep me off the sauce, and you need me to watch over you.  What do you say?”

I started to cry.  “I’ll pay you back every cent,” I promised.

Barney enveloped me in his brawny boxer body, and he leaned down to kiss me.  It was our first kiss.

“Why are you being so good to me?” I asked.

“Because I love you, dufus.  Couldn’t you tell?”  Of course I started to cry buckets of tears.

By the time we were discharged from the facility, I had gained twenty-five pounds.  When I looked in the mirror, I began to get a glimpse of the old me, and Barney kept telling me how handsome I was.  Our last night at the rehab center, marked a real milestone for me.

Barney and I were lying in bed on our backs.  We were holding hands and enjoying the afterglow of the professional blow job I had just given him.  Somehow his hand wandered down to my cock, and he started to fondle it.  I was enjoying the feeling, but I had no idea that I had gotten hard.  Barney didn’t say a word.  He went down on me, and my world changed.

I began to hear drums and to see fireworks.  In a very short time, I came in my lover’s mouth.  He crept up to lie beside me, and now we were both crying.  I didn’t go back to my room.  I slept with Barney all night.

Before we were discharged, I was given the address of a methadone clinic, and Barney was referred to an AA group.  We decided that we would attend AA meetings together.

-2-

When Barney took me to his apartment, I almost shit a brick.  His building was right next door to where I had lived with David, and I assumed he still lived there.  I couldn’t imagine what I would do, if I ran into him.  I decided to cross that bridge when it stretched out before me.

The two of us were feeling pretty good by now.  There were certainly no drugs or booze in our apartment, and we were there to watch out for each other should temptation arise.  We exercised three evenings a week, and on Saturday afternoons, at a nearby gym.  We made love with each other almost every day, and it was lusty and very intense.  We were both determined to recapture our former lives, and to be able to say, “I am no longer a recovering addict.  I am a recovered addict.”

One evening, several weeks after I moved in with Barney, we were having dinner at home, and Barney surprised me by saying, “I’ve got a job, Honey.  I start on Monday.” I jumped up and embraced him.

“Wonderful, wonderful,” I said.  “Tell me about it.”

“One day I saw a notice on the bulletin board at the gym.  They were looking for a gofer, and for someone to instruct newbies in how to use the equipment.  I memorized the number to call for an interview.  I called when you weren’t around.  I didn’t want to disappoint either of us in case I didn’t get the job.”

“I’m so glad for you,” I said.  “I think I’m ready to start job hunting myself.”

“There’s plenty of time,” Barney said.  “Don’t tire yourself out until you are ready.”

“I’m ready,” I said.  “I’m tired of free loading.”

“Nonsense, we’re partners,” Barney scolded me.  “Everything I own is yours, and everything you own is mine.”

“I’ve given you very little,” I said.

As if to shut me up, Barney shoved his face into mine, and started kissing me.  He picked me up in his strong arms, and carried me into our bedroom.  There, he undressed me slowly, trying to be very sensuous.  He threw me on our bed, and turned me on my back.  In record time, he went down on me.  He fondled, kissed and sucked my cock, and I couldn’t restrain myself.  I came quickly, too quickly.

“There,” he said.  “Do you see why everything I have is yours?”

I filled out applications at every department store in New York City except Bloomingdale’s.  I had no choice but to list Bloomie’s as the last place I worked.  When I was lucky enough to get an interview, I laid my past on the line, and swore that I was clean and sober.  The interviewer was always polite, but I never heard back.

One day I lucked out.  I had an interview with the personnel director at Macy’s.  Mary Bergen was a comely woman in her early forties.  She was still very attractive, but I did notice that she wasn’t wearing a wedding ring.  I knew she would call Bloomie’s for references, so I told her what had happened to me including how I overdosed.  Again I assured her that I was clean, and was still on methadone, even though I was being weaned off it.  I begged her to give me a chance to prove myself.

I never could have predicted what happened next.  Mrs. Bergen’s eyes welled up in tears.  I couldn’t help myself.  I asked her if she was all right. 

“My husband died when my son, Ron, was two years old,” she sobbed.  “I raised him as a single mother, but my career left very little time for him.  He got into drugs earlier than you did.  He wasn’t even out of high school, and one night he overdosed.  He wasn’t as lucky as you.  He didn’t make it.  I’d like to think that if he cleaned himself up, people would help him along the way.  I’m going to help you Brett.  The job is yours, but I beg you not to disappoint me.”

I felt the need to say more than thanks, so I said, “Mrs. Bergen, please don’t ever blame yourself.  My mother was a stay-at-home mom, and I still got hooked.  It wasn’t your fault.” 

I was really surprised when she go+t up and embraced me.  On the way home, I was floating on air.  I stopped at a bakery and bought a small cake.  I had them ice it in blue, and it read, Congrats to Us.

After dinner, Barney and I had a piece of the cake with a cup of coffee.  While we were having our dessert I informed him that I had a better dessert in store for him that night, and I was going to do all the work.  He didn’t argue.

We started to make love in the shower.  Barney wanted to rim my ass and suck my cock, but I wouldn’t let him.  Instead, I did that to him, and he had his first orgasm of the night in the shower.  Later on, in bed, I lubed his cock well, straddled him and sat down on his hard cock.  I guided his cock into my ass.  We just held still for a few minutes, smiling at each other, and finally we started pumping.  Barney had just cum so it took him a little longer this time.  His rod was stroking my prostate, and I actually came before he did.

I wouldn’t even let him get out of bed.  I got a wet wash cloth and a towel and cleaned him off.  Afterward, I cuddled up to him and we fell asleep.

Epilogue

Yesterday, Barney and I celebrated our fifth anniversary as a couple, and our first anniversary as husbands.  We made a big party at a local restaurant.  Most of the guests were friends and co-workers.  I was now the assistant manager of the housewares department, and Barney was a full time trainer at the gym.

The most important thing for me was seeing guests I never thought would ever love me again.  My parents were there, and they couldn’t stop hugging Barney and me.  All night long they had tears in their eyes.

Believe it or not, my ex, David, was there with his partner, Luke.  A couple of years ago, Barney and I were leaving a movie house, and so were David and Luke.  We literally bumped into each other.  There was no time to think about what to do.  David and I fell into each other’s arms, hugging and crying.

“I’m so sorry I hurt you,” I repeated over and over, and he kept whispering, “Hush, hush.  It’s ancient history.” 

We finally separated, and introductions were made.  We went to an ice cream parlor together, and David and I had banana splits.  Barney and Luke had ice cream sodas.  The four of us became close friends.

None of us were big into the bar scene, and for obvious reasons Barney and I never went to one.  But we all started to go to movies, theater, museums, concerts, etc. together.

One night David and I put the final nail in the coffin of the past.  We agreed that what happened to me was willed by fate.  If I hadn’t fucked up my life, he would never have met Luke, and I would never have met Barney.  That effectively put to rest any last remaining bit of awkwardness David and I might have had between us.

Even though I am an atheist, one night when Barney was working late, I fell to my knees in our bedroom.  I begged God to keep me and Barney strong, and not do anything to fuck up our happiness.  I sure hope he heard me.