Who Am I?

 by: Hankster

© 2010 by the Author

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

Part 1
2, 3, 4, 5

Here’s how things stand!  I am a forty-six year old male.  I know my name is Harry Goodwin and I am an American citizen.  I live at 1016 E. 62 Street, New York, NY.  That’s all I know, and I know this infinitesimal bit of information from rummaging through my wallet.  Most of the information was gleaned from my driver’s license and my voter’s registration card.  That’s it.  That’s all I know.  I cannot remember a single day of my life before waking up this morning.  It is now 2 PM so let me fill you in on what has happened to me so far this extraordinary day.

I woke up this morning and it was still dark.  My head felt fuzzy and I didn’t know where I was.  I glanced over to my left where I could see a dim light.  The light was coming from a clock radio which read 5:28.  I assumed it was AM.  I panicked.  Where was I?  Whose bed was I in?  I didn’t know.  I swear!  I jumped out of bed and realized that I was totally naked.  I scrambled for the bedside lamp and turned it on.  Shit!  There was another man sleeping on the other side of the bed.  I had thrown the covers off when I bounded out of bed, and I could see that the other guy was naked also.  I quickly grabbed for a bathrobe lying on a chair near the bed and I put it on.

The other guy stirred.  I froze.  What else could I do?  I didn’t know where I was, where I could get clothes, where I could go, or who the guy was that I was sleeping with.  As certain as I was that I didn’t know a fucking thing about anything, there was one thing I was sure of.  I am not gay, and I was clearly in bed with another guy, and we were both naked to boot.  I just stood there frozen in time and space.

The other guy sat up, looked around, rubbed his eyes, looked at me, and in a very concerned voice asked, “Harry, what’s wrong?  It’s the middle of the night.”

I wanted to yell, “What’s wrong?  Are you a fucking idiot?  Can’t you tell that I was born five minutes ago?”  But I continued to just stand there and stare at him.  Finally he got out of bed and started to approach me.  He extended his arms as if to embrace me and I shrunk back.  For Pete’s sake, the guy had a morning woodie the size of a cannon.  I was not about to allow this queer to touch me.

I turned away from him and the guy looked horrified.

“Harry baby, please tell me what’s wrong.”

The fucking faggot called me baby.  I wanted to get out of there quickly, but where should I go?  I didn’t even know if I was in the United States, although I suspected I was.

“Harry you’re scaring me,” the man said.  “Please, what’s wrong?”

We could have gone back and forth like this forever, so I finally decided to lay it on the line.  Naked men didn’t exactly pose a threat to me, and he seemed harmless enough.  Besides, there was nobody else around to help me.  I needed to sit down, but I was not about to sit on the bed, lest he think it was an invitation.  The chair where I had retrieved the bath robe was right at hand and I plopped down on it.  I sighed deeply, but that was all.  I still hadn’t said a word to the pleading man.

He clasped his hands together.  “Harry sweetie,” he said, “I’m begging you.  Please talk to me.”  I didn’t want him close to me.  I was afraid he would make a move on me so I pointed to the bed, and he sat down on the edge.  He stared intently into my eyes.  I actually felt sorry for the poor guy.  I began to think he was concerned for me, and if he was, how did this happen?  I was convinced I was not gay.  I purposely examined his naked body.  It did nothing to me.   Hey, maybe he was my brother.  I looked at him and there was not one bit of resemblance.  I am tall and dark.  He was medium height and very fair.  His eyes are blue and mine are dark brown.  We surely did not look like brothers.

“Harry, if you don’t talk to me, I’ll go crazy,” he pleaded.  I took a deep breath and wondered how I could explain all this to him when I couldn’t explain it to myself.   “Please,” he begged yet again.

I opened my mouth to speak and the guy looked at me expectantly.  I just didn’t know how to explain my dilemma so instead of an explanation, I asked, “Who are you?’

Now it was his turn to be speechless.  He just stared at me for a long while until finally he asked, “Are you serious?  If this is your idea of a joke, shut the light.  I’m going back to sleep.”

“No, please hear me out,” I almost screamed it.  “I’m deadly serious.  I woke up a short while ago, and I don’t know who I am, where I am, or who you are.  I don’t remember one single thing prior to waking up this morning.  I swear it’s the truth.”

He looked at me like I was crazy, which I probably was.  He reached over to the bedside table on the side I had been sleeping on and picked something up.  He threw it at me.  It was a wallet.  Was it mine?”

“Here’s your wallet,” he said “and I absolutely do not appreciate this vaudeville routine.”

“It’s the truth,” I mumbled.  “Do you think you could put some clothes on, please?”

He looked at me in disbelief, but he got up and put on a pair of gym shorts.  We were both silent while I examined the contents of the wallet.  So now I knew who I was and probably where I was.  I looked at him, and trying to be as serious as I could be, I asked, “Who are you to me?  Are we related?”

“You’re really serious aren’t you?” he asked.  He went over to the dresser and retrieved a picture in a simple frame.  “Look,” he said, and sat back down on the bed.

In the picture, two young men are standing with their arms around each other’s shoulders.  In the background there is plenty of water and many ships.  The two young men are obviously the two of us, but much, much younger.  I realized that I had known this man in the life I couldn’t remember.  More than that; we were obviously very good friends.  I looked at him quizzically.  He realized that I needed an explanation.

“The picture was taken more than fifteen years ago in Key West.”

“Did we vacation there?” I asked.

“Yes, we went down there to perform a commitment ceremony.  Surely, you haven’t forgotten that.  It was the happiest day of my life.  You must remember,” he said sadly.  “If you’re pulling some sort of sick joke on me, Harry, I’ll never forgive you.”

The poor man looked so forlorn that I forgot he was queer.  I got up and sat beside him on the bed.  I actually leaned into him for comfort.  I was more scared than he was.

“What’s your name?” I asked.  He didn’t answer; he just stared at me.  His silence was killing me.  I really needed to know.  “Please,” I was begging now.  “Tell me your name.”

He put his arm around my shoulder, but I pulled away.  I could see how that saddened him.  “My name is Stuart Carpenter.  I am your life partner.  We have been together a very long time.  This September we will celebrate our twentieth anniversary.  I am an architect and you are a lawyer.  You graduated from NYU Law.  I was your only guest at your graduation ceremony.  Your folks disowned you when they walked in on us one day while I was fucking you. You worked part time, and I helped you through law school.  Please try to remember something.”

“I am not gay, I tell you.  Why do you keep telling me that I’m gay?  I would never let a guy fuck me.  Where are my folks? I need to straighten that out with them too.”

Now anger consumed Stuart’s face.  Well if you aren’t gay, how is it that I have cum hundreds of times in your mouth and in your ass and you have done the same to me?  To my knowledge you have never slept with a woman in your life.  But I happen to be aware of an affair or two you’ve had with other men.  I looked the other way and I never cared, as long as you were careful and came home to sleep in OUR bed.  And oh yes, your parents are dead.”

I tried to feel remorse, but I didn’t remember my parents.  I had no history to recall, so I was cold to Stuart’s announcement.  Anyway, I was concentrating on his accusations of sodomy.  Of course, I didn’t believe him.

“I’m sorry,” I said.  “You seem like a really nice guy and I don’t mean to upset you, but I need to get out of here.  I don’t want to have to bust your nose if you act out of line.”  Even as I said that, I regretted it.

“You are an absolute, utter, fucking jerk!” Stuart yelled.  “”You live here.  This is your home.  Where would you go?  To a hotel?  Stay here and get some sleep.  To make you happy I’ll sleep on the sofa and you can lock the bedroom door.  In the morning I’ll make us breakfast and then I’m taking you to the doctor.  If she’s too busy to see us, I’ll take you to the emergency room.”

He was really insistent so I gave in to his demands.  As soon as he left, I did indeed lock the door.  I wasn’t sleepy and I began to examine my surroundings.  It was very obvious that the room was inhabited by two men.  The adjoining bathroom was filled with only men’s toiletries, including lots of tubes of lubricant.  There was a queen size bed and I already knew which side Stuart slept on.  I concluded that whoever did this to me had thrown me down on the other side of the bed.  I wondered what happened to Stuart’s lover.  Maybe he was the one who did this to me.  Maybe he and Stuart were in on a plan to extort money from me.  If so, how could they get anything from me?  I could not remember a blessed thing, especially not any of my PIN numbers.  Did I have any assets worth extorting?  Nothing made sense. 

Next, I examined the closets.  There were two walk-in closets in the room.  One of them was obviously Stuart’s.  The clothing size was definitely his.  The other closet contained clothing which would most certainly fit me.  The idea of a massive plot was slowly giving way to the possibility of amnesia, but I resolved to remain vigilant.  There was always the possibility that I was a dead ringer for Stuart’s real partner.  Even if I was, what would be the motive for any such conspiracy?

I needed to speak to Stuart.  I wanted to know what went on before we went to bed.  I shuddered at the thought of climbing into his bed naked and of him being naked as well.  I consoled myself by convincing myself that whoever did this to me stripped me after I was put in the bed.

I unlocked the bedroom door and went to look for Stuart.  I was unfamiliar with the town house, but I figured that the living room was downstairs.  I found Stuart sitting on the couch.  He was still in his gym shorts.  He had his head buried in his hands and he was sobbing.  Fags, I thought, they cry about everything.  I felt sorry for him and started to put my arms around his shoulder, but I stopped short.  What if he figured I wanted to have sex with him?  Nosiree!

I shook his shoulder instead and he looked up at me.  “I need to ask you some questions,” I said.  “I need to try to make sense of everything.”  He took his hands away from his face and nodded at me.

“Were we together before we went to bed last night?” I started.

He didn’t speak he just nodded his head.

“Did anything happen?  Did I bump my head or anything?”

Stuart started to laugh.  That surprised me.  “You really don’t remember?” he asked.  I shook my head.  “Well,” he continued, “you were fucking the life out of me.  I guess we pretty much started out in the middle of the bed, but the action moved us to one side.  When you finally rolled off of me, you must have thought you had plenty of room on the bed, but you rolled off onto the floor.  I could swear you hit your head on the bedside table.  When I asked you about it, you said the only thing you hit was your dignity, which I took to mean your ass.  You said you were fine, but I still think you hit the table.”

I felt all over my head for a telltale bump, but I couldn’t discover any.  In fact, nothing hurt me at all.  I had no evidence on my body that I had fallen at all.  Again I got suspicious of Stuart’s motives.  What if he was making the whole story up to give credence to my amnesia theory, when maybe he had actually drugged me?  I was growing more miserable by the minute.  I glanced down at Stuart.  His eyes were pleading silently with me.  I guessed they were pleading for me to remember him.  He stood up and said he would be right back.  I didn’t trust him, so I followed him.  He went into a small room which appeared to be a library/den/office.  It was actually a guest bedroom which had been converted.  On one of the bookshelves he pulled out two of six picture albums.  I followed him back to the living room and he motioned for me to sit next to him on the couch.  I did so reluctantly.  His near naked thigh touched mine and I pulled away.  Touching another man so intimately revolted me.

For the next fifteen minutes he showed me pictures of us taken over the years.  Some were taken at special events and some were taken on vacation trips.  I could see myself and Stuart at different stages and different ages in our lives.  Stuart told me little anecdotes about each picture, and he pointed out OUR friends.  He told me which ones WE were still close with, and which ones had strayed from OUR lives.  I know he was trying hard, but I didn’t recognize anyone, especially Stuart himself.  Furthermore, I could not relate in any way to his references to we and our.

He pointed to a picture and said, “This one was taken the night we made love for the first time.  God, I can still remember how wonderful your cock felt in my mouth, and later when you put it up my ass I almost fainted with joy.  Surely you can’t have forgotten that sweetheart.”  I got a visual image of what he was saying, and wanted to vomit.  How disgusting, I thought.  There was no way I had ever done anything like that.

When we had gone through the two albums, Stuart wanted to get the others, but I wouldn’t let him.  I had seen enough and was getting more certain that I was suffering from amnesia.  Stuart suggested that we shower and dress.  He said that he would make us breakfast and by that time he could call the doctor’s office.

We went back to the bedroom and Stuart stripped.  I stood pat.  “Aren’t you going to shower with me?” he asked.  “We always take our morning shower together.”

“Not on your fagging life,” I answered cruelly.  Stuart cringed and went into the bathroom to do his morning things and take his shower.  When he was finished, he came out wrapped in a towel and said to me, “Everything on the right hand side of the counter top belongs to you.”  I could see how hurt he was.  Well fuck, whatever had happened to me was not my fault.

When I finished everything I had to do, I came out of the bathroom and was relieved to see that Stuart was not in the room.  I went through the drawers he said were mine, and put on underwear, socks and a shirt.  I chose a pair of trousers in the closet, and an appropriate pair of shoes in the shoe rack.  I admired myself in the mirror and thought that I looked pretty damned dapper.

I went down the stairs and followed the smell of bacon and eggs into the kitchen.  Stuart was at the stove, and when he heard me, he turned to look at me.  His eyes were puffy, swollen and red.  Still there was no mistaking what a handsome man he is.  Nevertheless, I could not picture myself giving him a blow job or letting him fuck me, without wanting to barf.  That goes for visa versa also.

I sat down at the table, and Stuart served me breakfast.  I consumed three cups of black coffee, believing somehow it would cure me of this terrible hangover.  We ate breakfast in near silence.  I helped clean up and load the dishwasher and when we were squared away I thanked Stuart for making such a fine breakfast.

Instead of the expected ‘you’re welcome,’ he said, “I make breakfast every morning.”  Then after more silence he said, “It will be at least one more hour before I can call the doctor.  Is there anything else I can tell you about your life?”

“Yes,” I answered, “everything!”

We were comfortably seated at the kitchen table.  Stuart poured another cup of coffee for both of us.  I noticed that neither of us used sugar or milk.  He took a sip and began his narrative:

“I met you on orientation day at CCNY.  We ended up sitting next to each other in the auditorium.  I glanced up at you when you sat down, and my heart literally skipped a beat.  I thought you were the most beautiful man I had ever seen.  I got an instant erection.”

I got really nasty.  “Please skip all the sex shit.  It isn’t helping me and it’s turning my stomach.”  Again Stuart looked like I had slapped him on his face, but he continued.

“I was sure you were straight, so after I said hi, I tried to pay no further attention to you.  Imagine my delight when you extended your hand and introduced yourself.  After the session, we stood around talking and then went to lunch together.  We didn’t have any classes together, but we would run into each other in the cafeteria, and occasionally eat together.  That was it.  Since it was a city school, all the students lived at home, so there wasn’t too much after school socializing unless a strong friendship was made.

“One Saturday night, during the second semester of freshman year, I was with some friends in a gay bar in Greenwich Village, and you walked in.  You were alone and I almost screamed out loud at you, but I controlled myself.  I walked up to you and when you saw me, you smiled the broadest smile I have ever seen.  Then you did something that took my breath away.  You grabbed me and kissed me.  You told me that you had the hots for me since orientation, but you never said anything because you thought I was straight.  I told you that was my story too.

“We hung out together at the bar all evening.  You kept rubbing your erection against mine and kissing me between sips.  One of my friends had a camera with him and he took the picture I showed you before.  My folks had a wedding in Buffalo, and they had gone there for the weekend, so you came home with me.  We made love all night.  You may have forgotten, my love, but I never will.”

“It’s impossible,” I interrupted Stuart.  “I could never have sex with a man, not in a million years, not even if we were stranded alone on a desert island.  Why are you lying to me?”

By now Stuart was completely defeated.  He looked me straight in the eyes and said, “Harry, I swear I am not lying.”

“Then how come when I think about having sex, I fantasize a voluptuous blond lying beneath me and my cock buried deep in her cunt?  Explain that to me, gay boy!”

Stuart didn’t bother to answer.  Instead he resumed his narrative. 

“I had a gay friend, a former fuck buddy, who didn’t go to college.  He snared a position in Bloomingdale’s executive training program, and rented an efficiency apartment in the Village.  He let us use his apartment anytime we wanted to, except we had to have a three way with him whenever he was home.  Neither of us seemed to mind that at all.  Those were fun days Harry.  We didn’t have a care in the world until a few days before graduation.

“Your folks had tickets to a Broadway musical, and we went to your house to make love.  It turned out that the star of the show became sick and they didn’t want to see the understudy.  They were able to exchange their tickets for a future performance.  They came home early and when they saw what was going on, they kicked us both out of the house.  You gathered a few belongings and came home with me.  I came out to my folks that night, and told them that you had been disowned.  I guess they were a lot more tolerant than your folks because, they took you in.  They also said that they had figured out about our relationship a long time ago.

“After graduation, I got a job with a prestigious architectural firm and you started law school at Columbia, which I paid for by the way.  I’m a junior partner now, and you are a senior partner in your law firm, which you started right out of school with one of your classmates.  We bought this town house shortly after law school graduation.  We have lived here like any other married couple for all these years.  We are both too busy to do a lot of travelling, but we try to get away at least once a year.  Everything was normal until this morning.  In fact, last night we watched TV for awhile and then went to bed.  We had a wonderful love making session.  You fell out of bed, but seemed to be alright.  After we cleaned ourselves up, we both fell asleep and you know what happened this morning.  You do remember, don’t you?” 

Of course I did, and I nodded my head.

Stuart looked at his watch and excused himself to telephone the doctor.  I had no objection to that.  He had a long conversation with the doctor’s receptionist and when he was off the phone he said, “Dr. Sharpe will squeeze us in at 3 PM today.  I’m going to call my office and call in sick.  You should do the same.”

But I didn’t know my office number or anything else about my work environment, so I asked Stuart to do it for me.  The receptionist at my office seemed well acquainted with Stuart.  He told her that I was very ill and couldn’t make it in today.  She left a message for me to get better quickly.

Then he called his office and when he was done he sat back down at the kitchen table.  He kept staring at me with such concern and with such puppy dog eyes that I started to cry. 

“I would like to put my arms around you and comfort you,” he whispered, “but I know you won’t let me.”

“It’s OK,” I answered.  “Just let me be.”

“We usually do The Times crossword puzzle together before we go to work every morning,” Stuart said.  We have to kill all morning so would you like to do it with me?”

“That’s a great idea,” I answered.  “Maybe that will help me to evaluate how much more I have lost besides my personal memory.  Would you do me a favor before we start,” I asked.  “Could you please get fully dressed?”  I was still nervous about being with a near naked man outside of a gym.  He jumped up, ran to the bedroom and returned shortly, dressed much like I was.  A lot of the puffiness around his eyes was gone now, and he began to look like an ad in GQ.  Don’t misunderstand.  I admired his good looks, but had no sexual feeling for him at all.  I was also beginning to appreciate his kindness and understanding.  Someone less sensitive might have said fuck you and gone off to work.

Suddenly a light went on.  I realized that he was being this kind and understanding because he truly loved me, and he was concerned for what had happened to me, to us.  That confused me even more.  How could two people of the same sex love each other?  Revolting as it was to me, I could almost understand having sex together, but I couldn’t buy loving each other.  It was just too weird.

Stuart pulled his chair around so we were sitting on the same side of the table.  This time I didn’t mind at all, even when occasionally our thighs touched.  This time we were both wearing trousers.

“The puzzles get harder from Monday to Saturday.  Today is Tuesday.  Our best time for a Tuesday is 26 minutes.  Let’s try to break the record,” he said.  We smiled at each other.  He gave me a pencil and he took one himself.  Stuart glanced at his watch and jotted the time down in the margin of the newspaper. 

“Let’s go,” he said. 

Immediately I blurted out, “one across is ‘aver.’ ” Before the words were out of me I wrote the word into the puzzle.  We didn’t break the record that day, but we did complete it in 29 minutes.  We high fived each other, and Stuart made a suggestion.

“Would you like to take a walk?  It’s a beautiful day, and maybe seeing the neighborhood where you live, might jar some memories.”  It seemed like a good idea, but it turned out not to be so good for Stuart.  As we walked in the street, I commented on every female wiggly ass that passed by, and how I would love to squeeze it.  When a nubile young man passed by, Stuart tried to get me to show interest in his bubble butt.  I’m afraid he was fighting windmills.

We walked around all morning and the balmy air really felt good.  We happened upon a quaint outdoor café, and Stuart recommended it as a great place to have lunch.  When the waiter handed us menus, I reluctantly admitted to Stuart that I didn’t know what I liked.  The dear man ordered for me, and everything was delicious.

After lunch we went back to OUR apartment to wait until it was time for my doctor’s appointment. 

This is where I began my narrative and so you are now up to snuff with my dilemma.

Part 2,
1,  3,  4,  5

Stuart and I were sitting in the waiting room in Dr. Sharpe’s office.  He kept trying to take my hands in his.  I knew that he was merely trying to give me some consolation, and that there was nothing sexual intended, but I kept pulling away from him.  His distress was increasing and his eyes were swelling up again.  Poor guy.  I tried to be nicer, but the thought of physical contact with this gay man (no matter how much I liked him) simply revolted me.

On the other hand, I kept flirting with the doctor’s receptionist.  Her boobs were simply intriguing.  Unfortunately, she just ignored me.  Stuart saw what was going on and whispered in my ear, “You’re wasting your time.  She has known you for years, and as far as she is concerned, you are totally gay.” 

I winced.  My distress increased when we entered Dr. Sharpe’s office.  She was an attractive, comely woman of about forty.  I felt a tingle in my loin.  I extended my hand to shake hers and said, “It’s nice to meet you Dr. Sharpe.”  I was greeted with a strange reaction.

“Why Harry,” she said, “we are old friends.  You always call me Beverly and you greet me with a hug.  Now where’s my hug?”  I was alright with hugging her, but I made sure she could not feel my rising cock.”

“Stuart has roughly filled me in on the problem.  I must say it’s all rather strange.  He thinks you hit your head on a table and you say you didn’t, so the first thing I want to do is give you a good going over.  Strip to your boxers and lie down on the examining table over there.”  How did she know that I was wearing boxers?  Maybe I always did.

I looked at Stuart.  “Would you mind leaving the room?” I asked.  Stuart looked like I had just stabbed him in the heart, which I probably did, but he left and closed the door softly behind him.

“I’m surprised you did that,” Beverly observed.  “You both always stay for each other’s exams.  I’ll be back right after Jake takes your vitals.”  That having been said, she left the room.  In a few minutes a middle aged male nurse came in.  “Hi Harry,” he said.  “I didn’t expect to see you today.”  I just grunted as Jake weighed me, took my temperature and my blood pressure, recorded everything in a chart, and quickly left the room.

In a short while Beverly returned.  She proceeded to examine my whole body while I told her what Stuart had said about my fall from the bed.  As she examined me, I began to erect and I was embarrassed.  Beverly ignored it.  I reckon she was used to it, but not from her gay patients.

“I don’t see any bruises at all,” she said, “not even on your rear.”  You can get dressed now and we’ll talk.”

I got dressed and sat down on a chair facing her desk.  She took out a legal pad, presumably to take notes.  When she placed the pad on her desk, I had a sudden vision.  I saw myself seated at a desk, taking notes on a legal pad while referring to a huge book.  Stuart told me that I was a lawyer and I dared believe that this was a vision of me at work.  Hope was returning to me.

“What is your earliest memory?” she asked me.  I proceeded to tell her, down to the minutest detail, everything I could remember from the time I woke up this morning until this very moment.  It wasn’t hard to remember everything, since this day was the only memory I had.

“Harry,” she said sympathetically, “I’m as baffled as you are.”  She buzzed for Jake and asked him to set up a neurological consult with a Dr. Lundgren and an MRI for me as quickly as possible.

“While he’s doing that, Harry, please go out to the reception room and send Stuart in.  I want to talk to him alone.”  Now it was my turn to be cut to the quick.  I was the patient, not Stuart, but I did as she asked.

She was alone with Stuart for about ten minutes.  They both came out of her office and she handed me a prescription.  “You have an appointment for an MRI at 9:00 AM Thursday morning at Columbia Presbyterian,” she said.  “Dr. Lundgren, the neurologist, will be there also to examine you and interview you.  That’s the day after tomorrow.  In the meantime, I think it would be healthy if you both went to work tomorrow.  That’s doctor’s orders.  Harry, I want you to tell Ben (they told me that he was my business partner, Benjamin Gross) the whole truth so he won’t be mystified.  Tell him to fill you in on the cases you are working on.  I want to see if your memory of the law is still there, and if you can function in your work place.  It’s only an experiment and if you fail, don’t despair.  We’ll get to the bottom of this thing.”

We both thanked her and left the office.  On the way home I was very belligerent to Stuart.  I really didn’t want to be, but I was.

“What the hell did you two talk about,” I asked with a sneer.

Stuart answered, “Just about what you would expect.  She told me that she had no idea how you lost your memory.  She also told me that you weren’t lying about being straight.  Apparently you got a boner while she was examining you.  Naturally that never happened before.  It hasn’t has it?”

“How should I know?  I can’t remember a fucking thing,” I answered curtly.

“She assumed that we had male porn DVD’s at home, but she asked me if we had any straight ones.  I said no, and she told me to rent a couple and watch them together at home tonight.  I am to report your reactions back to her.  She said one more thing, but I don’t think you’ll like it.”

“And what was that?  Come on, out with it.”  Why was I talking to Stuart so nastily?  I determined to soften my tone.  It was obvious he was hurting.

“She said that we should be naked when we watch the films together.”

I was shocked, but I thought about it for awhile and said, “Tell you what?  I’ll compromise.  We’ll be naked but we’ll wear bathrobes.”

“It’s a deal,” he said.  “I’m willing to settle for half a loaf.  It’s kind of late,” he added, “Let’s go out to dinner.”

“That’s a good idea,” I answered.  Then, very sarcastically, I said, “I suppose WE have a favorite restaurant.”

“We sure do,” he said, ignoring my tone.  “We can go now, and have a little happy hour before dinner.”  As he said that, he hailed a cab and gave the driver an address.  It meant nothing to me.  Even though Stuart had told me that I had lived in New York all my life, I did not remember the restaurant or its location.

We entered the restaurant and proceeded directly to the bar.  The bartender greeted us enthusiastically by name, so when he asked if we wanted the usual, I nodded at him.  By the time we were on our second drink, dinner patrons were beginning to arrive.  Several of them came over to greet us.  In each instance, Stuart would say, “Hi so and so; hi thus and thus,” so I would know their names.  I was growing fonder and fonder of Stuart as a friend, not as a sex partner.  I began to believe a straight man could be friends with a gay man.  I was also beginning to realize that Stuart had maneuvered me into a gay bar and restaurant.  After two drinks I didn’t much care.  After dinner, I cared less.  The food was delicious.  We enjoyed an after dinner drink and headed for home. 

In the cab, Stuart said, “I had a nice time tonight.  Thank you for sharing it with me.”  I really felt sorry for him, but right now I wanted a woman, not him or any other male.  Well, I would have to settle for pornography.

When we got home we showered separately.   I went second, and when I came downstairs to the den, Stuart was sitting in a wing back chair in his bathrobe.  I took the love seat.  “Ready?” he asked.  I grunted something or other and asked which genre he was playing first, straight or gay?’

“Whichever you prefer,” he said.

“Straight of course, doh!”

“That’s the DVD that I have already inserted,” he said, and he pushed the play button.  In the very first sequence this stud has two girls.  They are playing fast and furious and the film is really hot.  When the guy goes down on one of the girls, I immediately got a good one which protruded from my robe.  I began to stroke myself.  I glanced over at Stuart.  He was watching intently but he was still flaccid.  Then one of the girls begins to give the stud a blow job.  Stuart began to get hard and he was stroking himself also.  I guessed it was the sight of that ample cock being sucked that aroused him. 

Stuart kept looking at me as he whacked his cock.  I avoided eye contact and stayed glued to the screen.  Suddenly Stuart stood up and stopped the film.  He took it out of the DVD player and inserted another.

“Come into the kitchen,” he said.  I’ll make us some coffee and we have some pound cake.  When our hardons have subsided we’ll view a gay tape and see what happens.

When we were enjoying our repast I dared to speak to Stuart.  “I’m glad you stopped me.  I was about to cum and I wanted to prolong it.  If I can’t get off with the gay film, promise you’ll put back the straight one so I can finish up.”

“Will you let me whack you off? Stuart asked.  “I’ve done it a million times.  You love when I do it for you,” Stuart said.  It was more like he was pleading.

Suddenly the cake in my mouth tasted sour instead of sweet.  “Look Stuart,” I said.  “I like you a lot so don’t push it.  I’m straight, so get this into your head.  No man touches me and I don’t touch any man.  The only reason I am here with you, is that for the moment I have no place else to go.  I want to let you know that I intend to remedy that situation as soon as I can.”

A look of tragic despair enveloped Stuart’s face.  I swear, I really felt sorry for him, but I couldn’t help it.  I meant what I said. 

“Please don’t leave,” he begged.  “We’ll get twin beds or convert the den back to a bedroom.  We’ll be room mates, and I swear I’ll never touch you, but I can’t live without you.  I’ll die if you leave.”  

Oh sure!  I could just picture myself fucking a girl with Stuart in the next bed.  I couldn’t do it even if he was in the next room.  I laughed inwardly, but I didn’t say anything else.  The guy was hurting enough.

We cleaned up the kitchen and returned to the den.  We took the same seats as before, and Stuart started the gay film.  In the first sequence two young students are studying in a dorm room.  One of them is Asian.  They keep looking at each other with longing.  Eventually books are forgotten and they begin to have sex.  They start with blow jobs.  Stuart was fully aroused and he stroked himself lightly.  I was as soft as a kitten.  After awhile one of the boys, the Asian one, lies down on his back and raises his legs.  We never got to see the other donning a condom or using lube, but as he starts to enter the Asian boy’s ass, we can see both the rubber and the lube. 

Stuart was stroking really hard now.  His breathing was labored.  Guttural sounds were coming out of him and he shot a load all over his chest.  The sight of all this literally turned my stomach.  I was still limp as I jumped up and shut off the DVD.

“I’m sorry,” I said.  “I’d rather fuck a lady monkey than stick it up some guy’s ass.”  That film is making me sick.  I’ll take the couch tonight and oh yeah, buddy, I will be moving out first chance I get.” 

Stuart looked at me so forlornly, that I really did feel sorry for him, but no way could I share a pad with a fairy.  He was sobbing, but he managed to say, “Look Harry, let me give you a blow job.  I know you’ll love it and maybe it will jar your memory of all the happy times we had together.” For one brief moment, I thought maybe I should let him.  Then I shuddered at the thought and spread out on the couch, making sure that the bathrobe covered my genitals.

He ran into the bedroom and threw himself on the bed.  For hours I could hear him crying and I couldn’t sleep so I shut his door.  I put the straight porno into the DVD player and whacked off twice.

Stuart had to wake me up the next morning.  He was all showered, shaved and dressed for work.  “You have to get ready for work like Dr. Sharpe suggested,” he said, as he started for the kitchen.  I ran upstairs.  This morning I knew where all my stuff was.  In the shower I scrubbed all the dried semen off my abdomen and dressed in what I thought was appropriate attire for work. Since Stuart told me that I was the boss, I didn’t know how formal or informal my office might be.  I figured that if I overdressed, it was easier to take stuff off than to add articles of clothing.

Poor Stuart.  He was uncertain of just how to act around me.  I kept telling myself to be kinder to him.  After all, his whole world was falling apart around him.  My condition was not his fault; at least, I didn’t really believe so.  I think that I was over my paranoia regarding some sort of conspiracy.  He said, “It’s a beautiful day.  I’m walking to work.  Your place is too far away.  I wrote your office address on this paper along with the names of important people in the office .  Here it is.  I suggest you take a cab, unless you can remember how to get there by subway.”  He handed me two sets of keys, one for the apartment and one for my office, along with a piece of paper.  He literally ran out of the house, slamming the door after him.  I had a feeling the guy was crying again.

After he left, I put the keys in my pocket and glanced at the paper he had given me.

After the name of the firm, Goodwin and Gross, he wrote the address.  222 E. 42^nd Street.  Suite, 304.  212-555-7000.  Below that, I read:

Your secretary: Laurie Marino.  (She has the hots for you.  Maybe you can satisfy her now, but it’s not wise to fool around with your office staff.)

Your partner:  Ben Gross.

Ben’s secretary:  Judy Gross (his wife) 

Law Associates:  Marie Murphy, Don Hutchinson

Paralegals:  Joan, Mark and Phil (I don’t know their last names)

Clerical staff:  You’re on your own.

I opted to take a cab.  As we pulled up in front of the building, I tried to recall what an appropriate tip would be.  From the look on the cabbie’s face I am sure that I overdid it.  I found my way to Suite 304, took a deep breath and opened the front door.  Immediately several people said, “Good morning Mr. Goodwin.”  A single voice said, “I hope you are feeling better.  We missed you yesterday.  Didn’t you bring your brief case with you?”  Was this my first mistake?  Was the voice that of my secretary, Laurie?  I hoped so.  She was hot as blazes.

“No, I left it at home,”  I answered.  Maybe Stuart didn’t think of everything after all.  My eyes darted all around the office until I spied a closed door.  A name plaque on the door read:  Benjamin A. Gross, Attorney at Law.  I barged in without knocking.  Ben look startled.

“Harry, you made it in today,” he said.  It sounded like a question not an observation.  I’m in the middle of dictating a brief, could you come back later?”

“No,” I said.  “I have to see you now.  It’s a real emergency.  Judy (I took a chance that he was dictating to his wife, his secretary) please leave us alone for a few minutes.”

Nobody seemed surprised so I guessed that this was Judy after all.  “Sure,” she said.  She closed her book and left.

“Good God, Harry.  What’s the matter?” 

“Sit down,” I said.  “I have a true story to tell you, but you aren’t going to believe it.  Before I start can I ask you a question?”

“Of course.”

“Stuart says that we have known each other since law school.  Have I been gay all that time?”

“Are you drunk or something?  You have been queer ever since I have known you.  I’m just grateful that you never came on to me, or we would never have built this successful practice together.”

“OK.  Now listen up.”  I related the events of the last two days and the reason my doctor wanted me to come to work to see if I still remembered law. 

Ben said.  “If you need a vacation just take one, but don’t pull my cock.  How did you know Judy’s name if you have amnesia?”

I showed him Stuart’s crib sheet.

“OK,” he said.  “I’ll play your silly game.  Let’s go into your office and I’ll go over your case load with you.”

It is safe to say that I was not familiar with any of the cases, but I knew just what I had to do and what research was necessary.  I picked up the phone on my desk and buzzed Laurie.

“Yes Harry?”  I guessed that first names were allowed here.

“Is Joan free?” I asked.  “If she is, please send her in, and if not get me one of the guys.”  For some reason I wanted to work with a girl.  A very attractive woman in her late twenties knocked on my door and came in.  After I laid out a research project for her, she asked,  “Harry, are you all right?  You asked me to do that a few days ago and my research is in your in box.”

“Sorry,” I stammered, “I must have forgotten.  Thanks.”  As soon as she left the room, I decided I’d better look at everything in my in box before continuing work.  I started reading through the contents of the box.  Some of the correspondence required an answer from me.  I am uncertain about the process my mind was going through, but somehow I knew just what to say and do.  I was delighted to realize that my legal skills were in tact and not forgotten.

I called Laurie into the room and asked her to bring her steno pad.  My whole work environment was flowing smoothly.  Even if I didn’t know the clients involved, I knew the laws needed to protect their interests.  I was really beginning to relax a little.  After I dictated several letters, I took the time to acknowledge Laurie’s obvious flirtations.

She was wearing a blouse so low cut, the neck line barely covered her nipples.  I don’t think she was wearing a bra because her nipples were clearly making two fair sized bumps in the blouse.  I tried not to look, but my eyes kept wandering back to those luscious bumps.

“You look particularly beautiful today,”   I said.  If you are free, would you like to have dinner with me tonight?”  Laurie looked like she might faint, but she gathered her forces and said, “I’d love to have dinner with you tonight, Harry.”

“Good,” I said.  I’ll let you pick the place and make the reservations.”  I had no idea where to go in my world of darkness.

I dismissed her and after a while Ben came in.  “What did you do to Laurie?” he asked.  “She’s walking on air.”

“I’m taking her to dinner, and then I’m going to fuck her.” I said, as if that was commonplace for me.  Ben’s jaw dropped open.

“I’m not gay anymore,” I said.  “You better look out for your wife.  She’s a damned attractive woman.”

Part 3
1,  2,  4,  5

The restaurant Laurie chose was dimly lit and very romantic.  I should have known.  We ordered a Chateau Briand for two and red wine.  The only side available was mixed vegetables.  As we ate, we both played footsies under the table.

“You’re so beautiful,” I said.  “You really make my juices flow.”

“But I thought…..”  She didn’t finish the sentence.  It just floated out there like a balloon full of air.

“I strongly suggest you don’t listen to vile rumors in the future.  In other words, don’t believe everything you hear,” I advised.

“Let’s cut to the chase,” Laurie said.  “We can’t go to my place.  I live with my mother.  How about your apartment?”

I thought for a moment.  I could call Stuart and tell him to make himself scarce because I was bringing home a lovely, voluptuous woman, but that would be too cruel a thing to do to him, even in my present mode of being mean to Stuart.  Instead I answered, “I’m sure we can find a hotel nearby.”

Laurie smiled and said, “I know just the place.  Do you have protection with you?”

“Shit,” was my reply.  “We’ll have to stop at a drugstore.”

“Uh uh,” Laurie shook her head.  “My purse is full of them.”

What a night we had.  I went down on her at least three times, and she had multiple orgasms each time.  She went down on me twice and I climaxed each time.  I entered her vaginally once, and we both came yet again.  After four or five hours we fell into an exhausted sleep.  About four o’clock in the morning, Laurie woke me.  She was stroking my exhausted dick but it wasn’t rising to the occasion.  When she realized that I was awake, she whispered in my ear, “I’d like you to fuck me from the rear.”  At first I thought she meant doggie style, but then I thought that maybe she meant the rear door.

“Do you mean anally?” I asked, quite surprised.

“Yes, that’s exactly what I mean.  I’ve got some cold cream in my purse you can use as a lubricant.”  Her purse was on the floor next to the bed.  She reached in and handed me the jar.  Then she retrieved another condom and gave it to me.  My cock was at full attention yet again.

Laurie must have been fucked in her ass a lot, because I entered her effortlessly.  “Hard,” she ordered.  “I like it hard.”  Wanting to make the lady happy, I pumped as hard and brutally as I could and still she yelled, “Harder.”

I felt my climax approaching and I fucked even harder if that was possible.  I came screaming, “Stuuuuaaaart, Stuuuuaaaart.”  I was totally unaware of the faux pas.  As soon as we both could breathe again, and I vacated Laurie’s hot, tight ass, she jumped out of bed.  She turned on the lights and started to dress.

“What’s the matter?” I asked in all innocence.

She was very angry.  “How can you not know that at the precise moment you should have yelled Laurie you screamed out Stuart?”   She was almost all dressed now, and as she ran out of the room she said between clenched teeth, “I’ll see you in the office – maybe.”

Maybe, indeed.  She never did come back to the office, and I never did remember yelling Stuart’s name, but then again I could remember very little about a lot of things.

She walked out and I felt nothing.  Sure the sex was great, but I hadn’t felt any connection to Laurie.  It made me wonder if sex wouldn’t be better with someone you truly loved.

I wasn’t sleepy anymore, but I decided to shower and dress at my apartment.  It was now almost 6 AM and I had an MRI coming up at 9.  I dressed and went downstairs.  I paid the desk clerk and went outside to find a taxi.

I let myself into the apartment with the keys that Stuart had so thoughtfully given me.  I yelled out his name but was greeted with silence.  There was a note on the hall table.  I picked it up and read:

My dearest Harry:  I love you to pieces, and I can sympathize with what has happened to you, but I can’t stand the verbal abuse you keep heaping on me.  You know my friend Richie, who you totally dislike because he is always trying to get into my pants?  Well, he said I could stay with him until we can resolve this dilemma.  He has hinted that he’s willing to take me in as a room mate with benefits.  If I have to have sex with him, then so be it.  If you get your memory back or need me for anything, his number is 212-555-2131.  No matter how much you reject me, I will never stop loving you.  I know that your Mr. Hyde is taking over your Dr. Jekyll, and you don’t mean to hurt me at all.  S

I looked around the empty apartment and ran upstairs.  Stuart’s toiletries and a lot of his clothes were gone.  I wondered if he had sex with Richie last night, and the strangest thing happened.  I felt jealousy.  How crazy was that?

I ran to the telephone and dialed Richie’s number.  When I asked to speak to Stuart, Richie said, “He’s gone to work and I don’t appreciate you calling me so early, prick.”  Whammo.   He hung up.  Suddenly I realized that I didn’t know Stuart’s work number or his cell phone number.  I pulled out my own cell and scrolled down the list.  There was Stuart’s name and number.  I wasn’t sure whether it was his office or his cell.  I pushed the call button and it turned out to be his office.  A telephone message advised me to call back at 9 AM during regular business hours.”

There was nothing I could do but wait, but my MRI was scheduled at 9 and I was asked to get there early to take care of the paper work.  I ran upstairs, showered, shit, shaved, and dressed casually for the test.  I took a cab to the hospital and found the Imaging Department.  I checked in and was given a clip board with too many sheets of paper to fill out.  It was not possible for me to answer most of the questions.  The answers were gone with my memory.  I needed Dr. Lundgren.  Where the fuck was he?

I glanced at a clock over an archway.  It read 9:01 and I dialed Stuart’s office.  They put me right through.    This is Mr. Carpenter, I heard, I’m away from my desk right now, but if you leave your name, telephone number and a brief message, I’ll get back to you as soon as possible.

I wanted to cry.  I realized just how much I needed Stuart at this critical time in my life.  I left him a message apologizing for my behavior and begging him to come to the hospital to help me out.  I continued to struggle with the hospital documents.  After another ten minutes went by, my cell phone rang.  When I saw that it was Stuart, it was I who started to cry.  I was sobbing hard, and tried to talk, when I heard him say.  “Don’t worry, honey, I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”  I felt better already.

I hung up the phone and I heard my name being called.  I raised my hand and an attendant motioned me to follow him.  He took me to a small examining room next to the waiting room.  A youngish, Nordic looking man extended his hand to me.  “I’m Dr. Lundgren,” he said kindly.  “Have you filled out all the forms yet?”

“I’m afraid not.  I don’t know any of the answers.  My memory is gone so I don’t know if I ever had chicken pox or took drugs or anything like that.  A friend of mine will be here shortly and he may be able to help me out.”

“Fine,  so we’ll proceed with the MRI, and you can complete the paper work afterward.”

The MRI was in two stages.  There was very little imaging and a whole lot of waiting in a frigid holding area.  When I got back to the holding area after the first stage, Stuart was waiting for me.  When I saw him I started to cry again.  The full gravity of what had befallen me had finally sunk in.  I felt helpless and alone.  Ben thought that I was trying to shirk work, so I had to believe that Stuart was the only true friend I had in the world.

He put his arms around me and this time I allowed it.  As I cried into his shoulder, I tried to examine my feelings.  Stuart was comforting me and it felt good, but I had no sexual feelings for him.  I realized that I wanted to for his sake, but I just could not conjure anything up.   I vowed then and there to do what he wanted.  We would live together and be best friends, but I would urge him to have sex with other men and I would have sex with women.  The bottom line is that we would be exceptionally friendly room mates.

I looked up at him and said, “Stuart, please come home.   I need you to help me get through this.”

He stroked the tears off my cheek.  I let him.  “Honey,” he said “my stuff is still in the car, and our car is still in the garage.”  We looked at each other and smiled.

“Thank you Stuart,” I said.  We sat and talked for awhile and then they came to take me to the second round of imaging.

“I’ll be here when you get out,” Stuart said.

I smiled at him.  I was so afraid of the whole world right now; I could not express my gratitude toward him.

When the MRI was concluded, Stuart helped me fill out as much of my medical history as he could.  Dr. Lundgren looked over the papers and then asked Stuart to leave the room.  He looked intently at me and said nothing.  It was beginning to unnerve me.  Just as I was about to say something to him, he spoke.

’’You know, he said, “incidences of amnesia are quite common, but yours is the first case where amnesia was accompanied by a change is sexual orientation.  It intrigues me and I want to study you further.  If the MRI should show any brain damage, it might indicate the exact location in the brain that controls sexual orientation.  If we could determine that, the gay community will probably honor me.”

“Why is that?” I asked.

“Because it would prove once and for all that homosexuality is not a choice.  So will you allow me to conduct studies on you after I have had an opportunity to evaluate the results of the MRI?”

“Why not,” I said.  “Tell me, why are you so interested in finding the cause of homosexuality?”

“Isn’t it obvious to you that I’m gay?”

“No,” I answered emphatically.  “My gaydar must have amnesia too.”  Dr. Lundgren could not stop laughing.

Stuart got me home, and I welcomed the sight and comfort of OUR home.  I was very hungry and he made me a couple of hot dogs with baked beans.  He said that I loved them, but I couldn’t fathom why.  I had slept very little last night, and I was very sleepy.  I kept yawning and Stuart helped me upstairs and told me to undress and get into bed.  I knew that Stuart and I slept naked in the past, but I did not remove my boxers.  I climbed into bed, and fell fast asleep.

At some point, I must have started to dream.  I dreamt that I was getting a blow job.  The only blow jobs I could remember were what Laurie had given me.  I thought that I must be dreaming about her.  But no, whoever was sucking my cock was so much better than she.  The way my shaft was being licked, the way my balls were being fondled, the way someone’s fingers were lightly stroking the crack of my ass, these were all different.  No, not different, infinitely more sensual.  I could feel an orgasm in the making, and I began to awaken.  In the instant that I realized where I was, I also realized that Stuart was doing the honors.  I wanted to jump out of bed and bash him, but I was way beyond the point where I could even ask a vampire stop.  I just lay back and let it happen.  I tried to fantasize that Laurie was sucking me off, but it wouldn’t happen.  Stuart remained in my mind as being the cocksucker, and a fantastic one at that.

I screamed with passionate joy as I gushed several streams of my cum into his mouth.  He took every drop and swallowed it.  He held me in his mouth until I begged him to let me loose.  My cockhead was way too sensitive.  My eyes were closed, partly in guilt and shame, partly in ecstasy.   I did not see him crawl up the bed to lie at my side.  Suddenly I felt his lips on mine, and finally I turned my face away.

“I’m sorry, Stuart,” I told him.  “I am genuinely fucking sorry, but we can’t do this again.  You promised me no sex play if I stayed with you.  Either you honor that promise, or I will leave.  This time I’ll make the proper arrangements before I go running off without a plan.  Now promise me, you’ll stay on your side of the bed, and I’ll make myself scarce on my side.”

“I’m sorry Harry,” he said sadly.  “I came in the room to make sure you were all right.  You were uncovered and your boner was sticking right out of your fly.  I just couldn’t resist, but I swear I won’t ever do that again, and we’ll get those twin beds as soon as we can.”

“At least for now,” I answered, “the last thing I want to do is leave you.  I need you so badly.”  I started to cry.  I could see that Stuart was about to put his arms around me, but he stopped short.

“Let me comfort you,” he said.  “I promise no hanky panky.” 

I laughed and held my arms out to him.  We gave each other a nice masculine hug and I had to admit to myself, that he felt good against my nearly naked body.

“You stay in bed,” he said.  “I’m going downstairs to fix us a fantastic dinner.  I’ll make all your favorite things.”

“And what might those be?” I asked in true innocence.

“An appetizer of shrimp cocktail, followed by rare roast beef with roasted potatoes and green beans, topped off with apple pie with vanilla ice cream, and coffee,” he proudly announced.  “How does that sound?”

“Terrific!” I said, and for the first time since I developed this amnesia, I felt enthusiasm about something.

“I have to go shopping for some of this stuff and I want to buy some wine also.  Will you be alright for awhile?”  I nodded my head, and Stuart left the bedroom closing the door behind him.

I fell asleep again and had the weirdest dream.  Another weird thing is that when I awoke, I remembered the dream vividly.

I am in an ornately furnished room.  For some reason I am sure it is a nineteenth century brothel.  I am lying naked on a bed with a beautiful red headed woman.  She has a body you could die for.  My cock is well aware of this, and it is not only hard, it is twice its usual size.  The woman is stroking it, much to my delight, and I am playing with her nipples and often suckling them. 

I ask her to tell me her name and she tells me it is Laurie.  She begins to kiss me passionately and I roll on top of her, positioning my rod at her Venus hole.  Suddenly the door bursts open and Stuart rushes in.  He is naked and his erect penis is three times his norm.  “You can’t do this to me,” he cries.  You know I love you and I can pleasure you better than she can. She has no feelings for you.   I demand that you make a choice.”

I laugh in his face and roll over once again.  I thrust my rod into Laurie and she sighs with pleasure.  I hear a gunshot and quickly look to see what has happened.  Stuart is lying in a pool of blood.  He’s the deadest corpse I have ever seen.

I woke up sweating profusely.  My psyche was yelling, Stuart, Stuart, don’t die.  I love you, but my brain refused to accept that thought.     My body began to relax as I realized that it was only a dream.  I got out of bed and went to the bathroom.  I took a leak and discovered that my cock was wet with precum.  I drank a sip of tap water and returned to the bed.  I fell asleep again.

As soon as I fell asleep, I had the same dream.  It repeated itself word for word, but when Stuart said, I demand you make a choice, the scenario changed.  I jump out of bed and run to Stuart.  We embrace and we fondle each other’s cocks.  Laurie gets out of bed, puts on a robe, and runs out of the room.  She has no intention of killing herself for love of me.  Stuart continues to stroke me harder and harder.  I do the same to him.  He gives me a mind blowing orgasm.

The dream was so real, I awoke with a start.  My cock, abdomen, stomach and chest were thick with semen.  The orgasm was real.  What did it all mean?  Was I healing and becoming gay again?  I wasn’t ready to face that possibility yet.  I still felt totally straight.  I went into the shower and cleansed myself.  I knew I wouldn’t sleep anymore.  Maybe I was afraid to sleep and dream again, so I got dressed and went downstairs.  Stuart was just returning from his shopping spree.

“Why aren’t you in bed?” he scolded me.

“I can’t sleep anymore.  Can I watch you prepare dinner?” I asked.

I can’t describe the look of joy that enveloped his face.  He put all the bags down on the counter and said he was going for more.  He went back to the car and got the rest while I started to unbag the groceries. 

Poor Stuart.  When his hands were finally free, he came toward me to embrace me, and I moved away from him.  I’m sure it was just a reaction out of habit, but unfortunately it was his habit, not mine.  Naturally, he looked hurt again.  I wanted to be more loving towards him, but because he was a man, it went against my grain.

He made us a fine dinner and after we cleaned up, we watched TV for awhile.  I could tell that Stuart was distracted.  He was very quiet.  Finally, he looked at me and said, “Until we can buy twin beds, let’s alternate the one we’ve got.  You can use it the rest of this week, and starting on Monday I’ll use the bed and you will have to use the couch.”

“Nonsense,” I said without thinking.  The bed is big enough for both of us, but we’ll both wear pajamas.”  I had second thoughts about that.  “Well,  shorts will do, but if I pop out again, I’m off limits.”

“It won’t work,” Stuart said.  “I love you Harry.  I might cuddle up to you in my sleep.  What then?”

“As long as that’s it, OK, but don’t go feeling me up or anything like that.  Let’s give it a try.  We can always go back to the couch.  On Saturday we’ll shop for twin beds.”

“Whatever you say Harry.  I have a feeling that you won’t be sleeping in OUR bed much anyhow.”

“I have a feeling you’re right,” I answered.  I hadn’t meant to hurt him, but with that remark I plunged another dagger into his heart. 

“I’m sorry,” I said.  “That didn’t come out right.”

“It’s Ok,” he said.  “I intend to pray every night that you remember OUR past and come back to me.”

So we went to sleep that night as far apart on the bed as was comfortable.  Neither of us fell asleep for a long while.  When the alarm clock woke us, we were almost touching, but not quite.  Stuart looked at the clock and remarked, “We have to get up earlier.  We used to shower together and there was no embarrassment doing morning things together while we were both in the bathroom, but now I think we should do these things separately.”  I agreed, and we agreed to get up about a half hour earlier.  We would have been late to work that morning, but we skipped breakfast.

I picked up breakfast at a McDonald’s near my office, and functioned perfectly well at the law office all day and all the next week.  I promoted one of the clerical girls to be my secretary.  She was well qualified, and I was more than satisfied with her performance.  In fact, I did so well performing my job requirements, that on the following Friday, Ben walked into my office and asked me if I was kidding about the amnesia thing.  I tried to assure him that I wasn’t.  Fortunately, at just that moment, Dr. Lundgren called.  I put the phone on speaker.  After opening greetings, the doctor said, “Harry, the results are in.  Can you be in my office the first thing Monday morning for a consult?”

We made an appointment.  I wished him a nice weekend, turned to Ben and said, “See?”

Things had gone perfectly well at home also.  In the evenings, Stuart and I watched TV, played Scrabble, and just did a lot of talking.  We were becoming very good friends without any sex.  This seemed to be what he was willing to settle for.  He tried hard to fill me in on my former life.  I remembered nothing, but to my credit, I was able to remember every detail he related to me.  I could now tell you a lot about my life without having actually experienced it.

Every night, we started out at the far end of the bed and every morning we awoke almost touching.  I could imagine Stuart’s sexual tension.  As for me, my libido was in high gear.  I craved a woman, but I didn’t even know the rudiments of how to go about getting one.  Besides, I enjoyed my quiet evenings at home with Stuart and didn’t go out at all.

We didn’t fall asleep quickly.  Almost every night, after an hour or so, Stuart would get up and go to the bathroom.  I could hear his grunts and I knew he was whacking off.  When he got back in bed, I would wait ten or fifteen minutes to go to the bathroom to do the same thing.  I wondered if he knew what I was doing.

Our second Saturday morning together was different.  We didn’t have to get up early and we set no alarms.  We both got up about 8:30 and just lingered in bed.  We glanced at each other and started to laugh.  We both had substantial morning woodies.  Without thinking we both darted for the bathroom at the same time.  “What the hell,” I said, “let’s cross swords.”  That was the most intimate we had been (except for my blow job) since I lost my memory.

“We used to do this a lot,” Stuart said.  “Do you remember?”  I shook my head.

“You wouldn’t consider showering together, would you?” Stuart said hopefully.

“Stuart, you promised me,” I admonished him.  He backed off.

“OK, me first,” he said.   So I went back to the bedroom and he closed the bathroom door.  I could hear him brush his teeth and turn on the shower.  I really had morning shit breath in my mouth and I wanted to brush my teeth badly, so I decided that I was being a little foolish.  I went into the bathroom, and began to brush my teeth.  In the mirror I could see into the shower.  Stuart was soaping himself, and paying too much attention to his cock and ass.  At that moment I wanted a woman so badly, I got an erection too, which I vowed to take care of in the shower.

“Keep that up,” I yelled to Stuart and you’ll be cleaning cum off the shower wall.”

“That was my intention,” Stuart let me know.  “Try it you’ll like it.”

“I intend to.”

I realized that we were BOTH teasing each other sexually, and I stopped talking.  I actually watched Stuart finish whacking off, and I was aroused.  The  minute he vacated the shower, I stepped in.  I needed relief badly.

That very night, I went to a local bar, and at least two gorgeous women hit on me.  One of them turned out to be a lawyer.  We seemed to have lots to talk about besides how beautiful we both were.  I excused myself, and went to the men’s room where I called Stuart.  I wanted to ask him to make himself scarce, because I just knew that this lady was going home with me.  There was so much noise at Stuart’s end, I could barely hear him.  He repeated himself several times.  Finally I got that he was in a gay bar and had just been cruised by a hunk, and he was going home with him.  “Feel free to use OUR bed,” he said.  I could not believe my reaction, I felt insanely jealous.  How could that be?  I had no desire to have sex with a man, even if he was my best friend.  I had to will the jealousy out of my head.

I was pleased with myself that night.  I performed admirably as a straight man.  It was nothing special, you understand.  It was the only way I knew since I got “sick.”  My lady friend did not care to spend the night.  She showered and dressed.  I said I would escort her home, but she declined my offer.  She called for a cab, and just as she was leaving, Stuart walked in and I introduced them.  After she left, I asked Stuart if he wanted a night cap.  “Sure,” he said.  “I’m going to get comfortable.”

We sat at the kitchen table.  We were both in our boxers with a robe for covering.  Stuart was sipping a scotch and soda and I was working on a gin and tonic when I commented, “I thought you would stay the night.”

“You wouldn’t know or remember,” Stuart said, “but most quickies, and one night stands, are not sleepovers.  Case in point, your beautiful trick just left you.  Sleepovers usually occur when there is a relationship brewing.”

I swear, it came out of me with no innuendos intended, but I said, “Like you and me.”  Stuart looked stunned, and I had to say something fast.  “I mean our brewing friendship,” I explained.  Then, to change the subject, I proceeded to give him every last detail of my recent sexual encounter.

“Very interesting,” he responded, “but it is just TMI.”  Then he proceeded to relate every last detail of his encounter with his pickup at the bar.  When he was finished, we both realized what we had done, and we started to laugh.

Once again, I said the absolutely wrong thing.  “I swear,” I assured Stuart.  “I am not the least bit jealous.”  Shit! I stabbed him in the heart again.  The look on his face was pure anguish so I tried to soften things.

“My MRI results are in and Dr. Lundgren wants to see me in his office Monday morning.”  I laid my hand on Stuart’s.  He did not move.  “I’d like you to come with me, if you can get away from work.”  I made it sound like a plea from me, begging his support.

“I’ll call my boss at home tomorrow evening,” Stuart said.  “So far he has been very sympathetic to what has happened to you, to us, and I’m sure he’ll let me get away.  If not I’ll just take a sick day.  I must have a million of them due me.”

Part 4
1,  2,  3,  5

When I woke up Sunday morning, I found myself nested up against Stuart’s rounded butt.   Stuart was either fast asleep or pretending to be asleep.  My first inclination was to pull away, but I was beginning to feel so helpless, hopeless and alone in the world, that snuggling with Stuart was comforting to me.  I had a morning woodie when I woke, but when I realized what was happening, I quickly lost it.  If Stuart was playing possum, I wondered if he was disappointed that I lost my erection.  I lay against Stuart for awhile, and finally pulled away and did my morning things.  When I came out of the bathroom, freshly shaved and showered, Stuart was sitting up in bed.

He smiled at me and I smiled back.  “You smell like a whore,” he told me.

“It wasn’t meant for you,” I answered.  “I’m trying to entice some gorgeous dame.”

“Seriously,” Stuart said.  We haven’t gone to church in ages.  I’d like to go today to pray for your recovery, I’d really like it if you went with me.”

Once again, I told Stuart the truth as I saw it, and I knew how hurt he was.  “I don’t know if I want to get cured, Stuart.  I’m functioning in my profession; my income has not been impacted, and I’m straight.  Think about it.  I might meet Mrs. Right and have children.  Wouldn’t that be fantastic?”

Stuart looked crest fallen.  “Yes,” he said.  “We’ve talked about adopting for years.  I’m sorry now, that we never got past the talking stage.  If we had kids together, you might want to stay with me.”  He started to get out of bed.  He looked so sad, my heart went out to him.  I nearly grabbed him to hug him.  Nearly!

“I’ll go to church with you,” I said simply.  It didn’t seem to boost his spirits at all.

In the end I was glad I went with him.  I didn’t recall any of the ritual, but it came back to me as the service progressed.  I wished that my personal memory would respond as well.  After church, the two of us went to brunch and then we decided to take a long walk in Central Park.  I wasn’t sure at first where the park was, but as usual Stuart guided me.  I was going to need his guidance for the foreseeable future, and notwithstanding my threats of leaving him, I knew I couldn’t do that for quite a long time.

We found a park bench and watched a boys’ soft ball game for a couple of hours.  We talked to each other about everything.  Stuart never tired of filling me in on my prior life.  He always made sure to tell me about some of the good times we had enjoyed together.  It was hard for me to imagine engaging in some of the sex acts he spoke about, but at least I wasn’t gagging anymore when he spoke of such matters.  I still had no desire to have sex with Stuart, but I knew that I would be devastated if I lost his friendship.  The knowledge that I couldn’t leave him for awhile was reinforced in my head.

Shit, it suddenly occurred to me, we never went looking for twin beds.  Well OK, next weekend!  I wondered if subconsciously, I didn’t want to.  For sure, Stuart didn’t want to.

“What would you like for dinner?” Stuart suddenly asked me.

“Do you do all the cooking?” I asked.  Stuart nodded.

“I’m sorry,” I said.  “I really have to learn how to cook so that I can pitch in.”

“I really don’t mind,” Stuart said.  “Cooking is kind of my hobby.  You don’t have to learn.”

“Nevertheless, I want you to teach me.  Do you have any ideas for tonight?  We can start our lessons immediately.”

Stuart started to laugh and grabbed my hand.  He dropped it just as suddenly, realizing that he had disobeyed my conditions.  I wouldn’t tell him, but I really didn’t mind. 

“We’ll start easy,” Stuart said.  “I had planned on pork chops with baked sweet potato and applesauce tonight.”  Just to refresh your memory, it’s one of your favorite dinners.”

The next morning we were the first ones in Dr. Lundgren’s office.  He hadn’t arrived yet, and when he did, he rushed into his office, looked at us, held up two fingers and said,  “I’ll be with you in two.”

Five minutes later he called us into his office.  “Sorry to be late,” he said.  “I was all dressed and ready to go to work, but my partner got frisky and seduced me back into bed.”  Stuart laughed, and I winced.”

“Sorry,” Lundgren said, addressing me, “I think of you as a gay man and you think of yourself as straight.  I’ll have to watch myself.”

I was impatient with Dr. Lundgren’s sexual escapades so I said, “About my MRI, Doc, what’s the verdict?”

He looked first at me and then at Stuart, then back to me.  I felt like strangling him.  Finally he spoke.  “I guess you did hit your head on the night table after all.  You have a tiny blood clot in the portion of the brain that is associated with memory.  We can dissolve the clot with a laser beam, but I don’t know if your memory will be restored, and for certain, I don’t know what will happen to your sexual orientation.  But like I told you at your MRI, that part of the brain must also have something to do with determination of sexual orientation.  Whether you revert to homosexuality or not, you have set my course in life for the foreseeable future.  I am going to do research on that part of the brain, using straight and gay brains.  Who knows?  I may discover the genetic cause of homosexuality.  But I digress.  I’d like to operate on Wednesday.”

Stuart grabbed my hand and smiled at me.  I pulled away. 

“What if I don’t want to remove the clot?  What if I want to remain straight?” I asked.

“I can understand how you feel,” Lundgren said, “but that’s not an option.  It’s too dangerous.  The clot could come loose from the brain tissue, travel through your blood stream and through your heart.  That could cause a stroke or worse, death.”

Poor Stuart gasped.

“You say that you can’t guarantee that my memory would be restored?” I asked.

“I have no way to tell if any of the memories of your former life will be restored.  The only thing I know for sure is that the clot must be removed.  It’s a simple procedure.  We’ll drill two tiny holes in your cranium and insert a camera and a laser beam to melt the clot away.  If I operate Wednesday, you can probably go home Thursday evening or Friday at the latest.   I would urge you not to hesitate in removing this potential killer.”  Dr. Lundgren knew how to be graphic and get to the heart of the matter.

“Please,” Stuart said, “do it.”

“For your information,” Dr. Lundgren said, “Stuart is your medical surrogate.  We can get a court order and declare that you are not able to make your own decision in this matter, and the court can order the procedure.”

I was truly conflicted about what to do, but the simple truth was that I had a blood clot in my brain and it was dangerous.  I knew I had to have it out, and I nodded my assent.  Stuart let out a sigh of relief and Lundgren said, “Good.”

“Dr. Sharpe’s internal examination is fresh and I can use it as a valid medical clearance for surgery.”  He reached into a drawer of his desk and pulled out a sheet of paper. 

“Here are instructions for neurosurgery,” he said.  Follow them, and get to the hospital no later than 7 AM on Wednesday morning.  I’ll see you in the surgery.

When we left the doctor’s office, we took separate cabs to work.  I told Ben that I would not be in the rest of the week, and would have to play the following week by ear.  I cleaned up as many of my cases as I could, and turned the rest over to one of the associates.  Before I left for the day, Ben hugged me and wished me well.  He promised to come see me on Thursday morning because he didn’t think it was wise to visit on the day of the operation. 

Stuart arranged for Tuesday to Thursday off, with Friday a possibility.  We both put in a full day trying to tie up loose strings.  Stuart got home only five minutes before me.  When he saw me, he forgot his promise.  He wrapped his arms around me and started to sob.  I let him.

“I’m going to be just fine,” I told him.

“May I say something?” Stuart asked.

“Sure.”

“I don’t care what you are praying for, but I’m praying for you to come back to me and to fully share OUR bed again.”

I still hoped that somehow I would remain straight, and move into the mainstream, but I couldn’t say that to Stuart.  “Che sera,” I muttered, but then I added, “Stuart, straight or gay, I want to be your friend forever.”

Stuart gave one heartbreaking sigh and ran out of the room.

He cried all evening and when we went to bed, he was still not himself.  I couldn’t help it.  I broke our rules.  I took him in my arms and literally rocked him to sleep.  I was very careful not to let my cock touch any part of his body.

When Dr. Lundgren came out of the operating room, he went right to the waiting room to find Stuart.  He put his hand on Stuart’s shoulder and said, “The operation was routine and went just fine.  Except for a tiny area of shaved hair, he’s going to look like himself.  They have taken him to ICU.  The law permits only immediate family into the ICU, so I told them that you were his half brother, and you can visit him anytime.  He was awake during the procedure and I am sure he can talk to you now.”

“But Doctor,” Stuart asked, “What about his memory and his sexual orientation?”

“It’s too soon to tell.  He’s still foggy.  Just be patient.  We’ll know something in a few hours.”

Stuart ran to the ICU and found the nurse’s station.  He asked where I was.  The nurse consulted my chart and asked, “Are you his brother Stuart?”  Stuart nodded and the nurse winked.  She obviously knew the score.  She personally took him to my cubicle.

“He just dozed off,” she said, “but you can sit at his bedside if you’d like.”

“I’d like,” Stuart said. 

As the nurse left, she drew the curtain around the bed.  Stuart kissed me on the forehead, and sat down in a chair beside my bed.  He took my hand closest to him and squeezed it tightly.  He wasn’t exactly sure, but he thought that maybe he felt a slight squeeze back.

I continued to doze for over an hour.  At times Stuart thought that I was going to awaken, but each time I would slip off into sleep again.  It was Stuart who finally dozed off just as I awoke.  We were still squeezing each other’s hands.

I looked around me.  The curtains were drawn around my bed, affording me and Stuart complete privacy.  Stuart was squeezing my hand and his head was resting at the edge of the bed.  He was completely asleep.  I struggled to remember where I was and what brought me here.  For sure I wasn’t home.  At home Stuart would be in the bed with me.  With my free hand I began to stroke, Stuart’s soft, silky blonde hair.  Stuart stirred and woke up.

“What’s up, stud?” I asked.

“Not much, super stud,” Stuart answered.  “I haven’t been getting much lately.”

“Well, we’ll have to take care of that won’t we?”  I took Stuart’s hand, which was squeezing mine, and I laid it on my crotch. 

“Thank you God,” Stuart sighed.  “My honey’s back.”

As soon as Stuart got me home, he put me to bed and he lay down beside me.  We were both naked now as in the old days, and Stuart began to fondle me.  That first evening at home, I was not very mobile.  I could only lie flat on my back and let Stuart do all the work.  Stuart was happy to do so.  He let his tongue explore the length of my body. He was in no hurry.  He had all night.  His tongue lingered, for as long as he could manage, on every inch of my flesh.  It was Stuart and not me who finally could bear it no longer and he finally began to suckle my balls and he ran his tongue up and down my shaft.  I could only moan and groan in pleasure as I got harder and harder.

“I know that I prevented you from doing this when I was sick?” I said.  “I was crazier than I thought.” 

Stuart didn’t bother to comment.  He was too busy sucking my cock.  His tongue caressed my head, and he licked up and down the shaft.  My balls began to constrict, and Stuart withdrew.  He covered my cock with a thick coat of goo, and sat himself down on it.   He pushed down until my blessed thing was all the way up his ass.  He bounced up and down until I came gushing inside of him.  Most of the cum was subjected to gravity and oozed out of his ass.  Stuart reached under himself, and scooped up some of the cum.  He offered it to me, and I ate it.

I was not able to reciprocate at this time, but Stuart could care less.   A few days later, I was able to totally satisfy him in every way.  Now he was happy again, in and out of the bedroom.

One month later, I went to Dr. Lundgren’s office for a follow up visit. 

“There is something you need to know,” I said.

“Sounds serious,” Lundgren said.

“It probably is.  It’s a confession meant only for your ears.  Nobody else must know.  Agreed?”

He nodded.

“I’m not cured,” I stated as simply as I could.  “I can’t remember my past life and I’m still straight.”  The doctor opened his mouth to speak, but I held up my hand to silence him.

“The day before surgery,” I continued, “I was packing some stuff to take to the hospital.  In a dresser drawer, buried under some personal junk,  I found a journal.  It was mine.  I don’t think Stuart knows about it.  If he did, he would have urged me to read it to help me regain my memory.  It spans the years from the day I met Stuart until just shortly before I lost my memory.  I read it, and it made me see how much we meant to each other, how much I had loved him once.  Finally I realized how devastated Stuart must be at the change in me.  I was destroying his life.  But more than that, the journal filled in gaps in my life that Stuart couldn’t; like my feelings about my parents; like how lucky I was to have met Ben Gross; the fact that I had the hots for him, which would forever go unrequited, and stuff like that.

“When I woke up after surgery and saw Stuart sleeping on my bed, I was overwhelmed with love for him.  I knew without a shadow of a doubt, that he was the best person, the only person I could share my life with.  I vowed to have sex with him and live with him as a couple.  Closeted gay men say that they can make love to a woman if they fantasize that they are with a man.  Well, I fantasize that I am with a woman when Stuart and I make love.  He’s a fantastic lover and he can do things to me no woman would, but that still doesn’t mean that I would rather be with him than a beautiful woman.  The bottom line is that sex is only a small part of a relationship, and I can’t think of anyone I’d rather have as a companion in the journey through life, than Stuart.”

“Why are you telling me all this?” Lundgren asked.

“Because I thought it would have a profound effect on your research.”

“Yes, of course it would.  I appreciate your telling me.  Do you think you will ever tell Stuart?”

I shook my head.  “I love him too much,” I said.  “I could never hurt him again.”

Dr. Lundgren dropped his head as if it was hurtful to ask the next question.  “Closeted gay men often cheat on their wives with other men.  Have you cheated or do you think you will cheat with women?”

“In all honesty, Doc,  I have already cheated once, and I know I will continue to cheat.  In my defense, I keep Stuart happy in the bedroom.  I know what he likes and I do it for him.  I just pretend he’s a beauty queen, whom I just crowned Miss America.  We make each other happy just being together, and I don’t feel guilty.”

“Good luck, pulling it off ,” Dr. Lundgren said.

As for Dr. Lundgren, his research kept running up against brick walls.  He had plenty of volunteers who wanted to go straight, so to speak.  No matter how he stimulated that section of the brain, the subject’s sexual orientation remained the same.  After ten or so years, he concluded that I was an anomaly, and he abandoned his research.

What has become of me?   I grow fonder of Stuart every day.  To use that corny old line, he completes me.  There are even times, I don’t have to fantasize that he’s a woman to get it up for him.  The anticipation of the way he is about to make me feel is erotic enough, and produces the desired effect.   But maintaining the erection remains a problem.  I have to resume fantasizing that I am with a woman, in order to continue our love making.

While Stuart more than satisfies my lust, I have three lovely, willing, female fuck buddies, who satisfy the emotional part of my sex life.  None of them is aware that I live with a man, and I will hide that from them as long as I can. 

Every day I ask myself if I can hide the truth from Stuart forever.  Then one night, just a few days ago, as Stuart slept in my arms, I had an epiphany.  Stuart is too smart to fool.  Surely there is a difference in my passion, and in my ability to satisfy another man sexually, than when I was gay.  Surely Stuart would be aware of the difference, no matter how subtle.  I am convinced that Stuart is aware of the truth, and is willing to accept crumbs for my love and companionship.  When I suspected that he knew the truth, my love for him became even deeper.  I hugged him tighter to me, crying myself to sleep, knowing that I could never be the man he so desperately desired and deserved.

Part 5 
1,  2,  3,  4

My Name Is Harry Goodwin 

What has become of me?   I grow fonder of Stuart every day.  To use that corny old line, he completes me.  There are even times, I don’t have to fantasize that he’s a woman to get it up for him.  The anticipation of the way he is about to make me feel is erotic enough, and produces the desired effect.   But maintaining the erection remains a problem.  I have to resume fantasizing that I am with a woman, in order to continue our love making.

While Stuart more than satisfies my lust, I have three lovely, willing, female fuck buddies, who satisfy the emotional part of my sex life.  None of them is aware that I live with a man, and I will hide that from them as long as I can. 

Every day I ask myself if I can hide the truth from Stuart forever.  Then one night, just a few days ago, as Stuart slept in my arms, I had an epiphany.  Stuart is too smart to fool.  Surely there is a difference in my passion, and in my ability to satisfy another man sexually, than when I was gay.  Surely Stuart would be aware of the difference, no matter how subtle.  I am convinced that Stuart is aware of the truth, and is willing to accept crumbs for my love and companionship.  When I suspected that he knew the truth, my love for him became even deeper.  I hugged him tighter to me, crying myself to sleep, knowing that I could never be the man he so desperately desired and deserved. (From Who Am I?  Part Four, published 2010)

I wanted desperately to ask him if he knew the truth, but I was too frightened.  I love him too much to make waves, but I couldn’t go on deceiving him.  Yes, I love Stuart, but as a brother, not a lover.  I was not being fair to him.  He deserved to feel the same passions and emotions that I felt when I was fucking a woman.  And what about me?  I deserved to have a full time loving woman, and not a few part time fuck buddies.

For days I couldn’t sleep trying to resolve my dilemma.  I should leave Stuart, but he would be devastated.  Before my surgery he made it quite clear that he would kill himself if we couldn’t be together.

Finally, after a great deal of soul searching, it came to me.  I needed to make Stuart fall in love with another man, and want to leave me.  I realized what a monumental challenge that would be, and I began to plan it carefully. 

I started to request, no, demand, that we socialize more.  Stuart and I had been way too reclusive.  He was so happy to ‘have me back,’ that he wanted to stay home every evening and make love.  I just thought of it as fucking.  Much to his chagrin, I made big parties at home and urged our friends to bring along any single stray gay men they knew.  Months went by, and I met nobody who could possibly change our lives.

Then finally it happened.  I was representing a client, Ted Bass, who had been accused by an employee of sexual harassment.  Both my client and the alleged victim were gay, but George Kaye, the alleged victim, was obviously not attracted to my client, who was just about approaching obesity.  Now I am aware that there are men (and women) who are very turned on by big men, but George was repulsed, and couldn’t take Ted badgering him all the time.  He finally quit and filed this lawsuit, which I knew I would probably lose.

We held pre-trial depositions in my office, and I reckoned immediately that George was a probable candidate for Stuart’s affections.  They were about the same age, and George was very good looking.  I couldn’t blame Ted for desiring him.  During the depositions, he asked me where the men’s room was.  I told him that I had to go also, and I led the way.  There are only two urinals in the rest room so we had to stand side by side.  There was a divider between them, but George purposely took out his cock before approaching the urinal.  He had a beauty for sure; cut, fat and hung.  I didn’t much care, but I knew it would make Stuart’s mouth water.

I allowed him to gaze upon my beauty also, and he had the nerve to whistle and say, “That’s quite a shlong you’ve got there.”  I didn’t expect that.

“You should see my partner’s,” I blurted out, not knowing what else to say.

Nobody wanted to air dirty linen in public, so we settled out of court that very day.  Earlier, when I was alone with my client, urging him to settle, I admonished him to control his urges, at least in the work place.

He laughed.  “If Stuart would let you off your leash, I’d control my urges with you,” he said.  I wanted to gag.

I had an opportunity to be alone with George a little bit later.  I was alone with him in my office while he signed waivers, and other legal documents.  I wrote my home address and telephone number on the back of my business card, and handed it to him.  “Come for dinner tonight,” I told him.  “Stuart made a pot roast.  Cooking is his hobby.  He could be a chef, if he wanted to.”

“Will there be other food available besides the pot roast?” George asked.

“You can bet on it.”

“Then I’ll certainly be there.  What time would you like me?”

“Six will be just fine.”

As soon as he left my office, I called Stuart.  “I invited an Adonis for dinner tonight, so when you get home, dress as sexily as you can, and heat up the pot roast.”

“Are you thinking of having a three-way?” Stuart asked, sounding very unhappy.  “You know how much I hate those things.”

“But you know how much I love them,” I lied.  I knew that Stuart would never deny me anything.

When I introduced the two men to each other that evening, I could sense an instant attraction.  George handed Stuart a bottle of wine, and Stuart was so awe struck by George’s good looks, he almost dropped the bottle.  I could tell immediately that George would like nothing better than to hop into bed with Stuart right then and there.

We made small talk during dinner, had after dinner drinks, and then George stood up to leave.

Stuart shocked me by blurting out, “Harry and I were hoping we could all have a go at it this evening.  Please stay.”

“I really didn’t want to leave, but I was waiting for an invitation.” 

Then things got awkward and very quiet, so I stood up, embraced George, and started kissing him.  Stuart took each one of us by a hand, and led us into the bedroom. 

Everything Stuart did that night surprised me, even shocked me.  He undressed so quickly, he was almost a blur.   He held out his arms, not to me, but to George.  I was thrilled.  I knew that I had made the right choice.   If I could, I would have patted myself on the back.

I climbed into bed with them, but I immediately felt like a third wheel.  They were both hard as rocks, and I was as soft as a baby’s ass.  I discreetly crawled out of bed, and I watched them play a passionate game of sixty-nine.  I realized then and there, that I never made love to Stuart with the passion George was displaying.  He was sighing and moaning, as was Stuart.  Their bodies were writhing in pleasure.  When I was having sex with Stuart we were virtually mute, and I lay still as a statue.  Now I was convinced that he must know what a fraud I was.  I felt awful, but I knew that I could do no more for him than I was already doing.  Even watching the graphic porn sequence in front of me, I remained flaccid.

I interrupted them long enough to hand them condoms and lube.

“Fuck me first,” Stuart said, smiling at George.  George smiled back, and prepared both of them for what each considered to be the ultimate pleasure two men can give each other.   Stuart was on his back and George entered him in the missionary position.

“Oh, baby,” George muttered.  “This feels so good.”

“Yes, George, fuck me.  I need it so badly.  It’s been a long time.”

When Stuart said those words I ran from the room.  I can’t describe how much his words hurt me.  I felt like a knife had been inserted between my ribs and into my heart.  I was so jealous, I couldn’t believe it.  What the fuck!  I fucked him every time we had sex, but I now realized, without any desire.

When I calmed down a little, I realized that I had confirmed my own suspicions.  I had thought of it as having sex with Stuart, not making love.  I realized also that he missed the passion that George had just gifted him, and which I lacked.  Stuart and I satisfied our lust, but not the emotional needs that came with making love.  He needed a man, a gay man, and I needed a woman to make it real love.

But my heart was breaking.  It finally dawned on me that I could not live without Stuart, just as much as he claimed he could not live without me.  I prayed that George could change all that.  I knew that I would never, nor could ever, change how I was.

I stayed out of the room until I heard both their climactic screams.  Then I went in and lay down beside them.  They were sound asleep, wrapped up in each other’s arms, and there was plenty of room on the bed for me.  I don’t think that either one of them realized that I had not only left the bed, but I had left the room.

I woke up about five in the morning.  Stuart was down on me, and I was almost at the end.  The pleasure he was giving me at the moment was blowing my mind and I began to wriggle, moan and sigh.  For whatever reason, I wasn’t mute that morning, and I was not acting.  Still I had no desire to reciprocate, and I wouldn’t, unless Stuart asked me to.

“Where’s George?” I asked, when I saw that we were alone in bed.

“He has a new job, so he went home to change.  He didn’t want to be late, or miss working, since he’s just beginning the job.  I’m aware that we didn’t satisfy you last night so I decided to give you a nice wake up call.  You were very noisy this morning, sweetheart.  Usually you don’t make a sound.”

Stuart wasn’t just making small talk.  He was giving me an opening to discuss “our situation.”  The last thing I ever wanted to do was to hurt him, but I had to tell him the truth.  Even if he wouldn’t realize it at first, it was for his own good.  I thought back to the great love-making session he had last night, and I knew the truth of my convictions.

“It was real good with George last night.  Wasn’t it?”

Stuart turned to me, and wiped away an errant tear from my cheek.  “It was very good, my darling.  What are we going to do now?”

“I guess you know that the operation didn’t change me.”

“I didn’t at first, but every so often something would come up from our past, that I had failed to tell you about, and you were oblivious to it.  That made me suspicious.  At first I was so happy to be making love to you again, that I failed to see how little passion you put into it.  George jogged my memory last night.  I love you to pieces, but I think we should separate.”

My body started to shake, and Stuart tightened his hold on me.  I was afraid he would break a rib.

Finally I asked a question that I was afraid to ask.  “Are you going to see George again?”

“Yes, I’m meeting him after work for dinner, and then I’m going home with him.  It’s what you wanted.  Isn’t it?”

“Yes, but now I’m so jealous, I’ll bet I’ve turned green.”

“I’ll have to find you a good woman, like you found me a good man.  Would you mind if I did a little match making?”

“No,” I lied.  Inside I wanted to yell, I don’t want another woman.  I want you.  I couldn’t say it, but I did ask Stuart to hold me tighter.

“Can we continue to have sex until you do?”  I still could not bring myself to say make love, or to actually make love with him.

“Damn right,” he said.  He wrapped himself around me, and we fell asleep again.

I knew I would be free that evening, so at work I decided to call one of my lady fuck buddies.  I couldn’t bring myself to ring any one of them.  I had lost my mojo, at least for the moment.  I hoped it was temporary.  I walked into an empty house, and I missed the aroma of Stuart’s wonderful dinners wafting from the kitchen.  I missed his passionate welcoming kiss.  Well, at least he was passionate, even if I wasn’t.

Stuart didn’t come home until dawn was breaking.  I pretended to be asleep, but when he went into the shower, I went in after him.  He smiled and we began to soap each other.  He let me wash his dick, but when I got too frisky, he said, “Not now, sweetie.  I’m all done out.”

I should have been elated.  This is the very scenario I had created.  Instead, I was crestfallen.  I suddenly felt how Stuart must have felt, when I first lost my memory, and I wouldn’t let him touch me.

I stormed out of the shower, dressed and left the house without having breakfast.  I usually took the subway to work, at least since I learned my way, but this morning I took a taxi.  I had breakfast at a coffee shop near my office, and then went to my office.  I was way too early, and I was the first to arrive.

Even before the switchboard opened, my cell phone rang.  It was Stuart.  I hesitated to answer, but I did.  Without any preliminaries Stuart asked, “Why are you so pissed at me.  It’s what you wanted isn’t it?”

“Stuart, I don’t know why I’m pissed.  I want you to be happy.  Please believe me that I do.  I can see how happy George makes you.  Just leave me alone, OK?  I’ll get over it.”

“I hope you do,” he said curtly.  “If not, we’ll have to split right now, even though George and I haven’t even established a relationship yet, and certainly, there is no commitment.”

I couldn’t speak so I hung up on him.  A few minutes later I called him. 

“What do you want?” he spit out.

“I just want to know if you are coming home tonight, or if I should plan on eating dinner out?”

“George is coming for dinner, and you are certainly welcome.  It’s your house too.  By the way, since you haven’t enjoyed living there since you got amnesia, I’d like to buy you out.”

This time a double edged sword pierced my breast.  I hung up on him, and started to cry.  When I recovered, I left my partner, Ben Gross, a note saying I didn’t feel well, and I went home by subway.  I felt a strange need to be with people and not to be alone.

People on the subway were looking at me strangely.  I realized that I was crying.  This being New York, nobody asked me if something was wrong, and could they help.  The crazy thing is that if I had yelled out that I need help, everyone in the car would have assisted me.  New Yorkers would never butt into someone’s privacy, but would always be there to help.

I got home somehow, undressed, and went right to bed.  I cried myself to sleep, and I began to dream.  It was the happiest dream I ever had:

I was eighteen years old and scared shitless.  I was walking up the stairs to the main entrance of CCNY.  It was orientation day.  Suddenly I was seated in a huge auditorium.  Stuart was sitting next to me.  He seemed very shy when I introduced myself, but as for me, I wanted to take him straight to bed, but I thought he was straight.

The scene changed again, and I walked into a gay bar. Stuart was there with friends. We realized that we were both gay, and our lives began, our lives as a couple.

Then I found myself in Key West.  Stuart was with me, of course.  We were on a yacht, reciting words of commitment in front of the captain.  I tried to look at Stuart’s face, but his beautiful youthful face was fading.  I grew frightened because I couldn’t remember what he looked like.

I awoke with a start.  I was in a state of confusion.  I actually remembered what I had dreamt.  That in itself was unusual, but as a rule, when I dream, the action is in the present tense, even if I am dreaming about ancient events.  But this dream was all in the past, and what’s more, I knew it.  For just a moment, a very short moment, I got the worst headache I had ever had in my life.  Then it was gone as quickly as it had come.

I looked at my watch.  It was 11 AM.  What was I doing at home?  It must be a holiday or a weekend day, and why wasn’t Stuart in bed with me?  I wanted to make love to him so badly.

Everything seemed surreal to me, but little by little my head began to clear.  I could remember everything, not just my life with Stuart, but my childhood, my growing up years, the pain in high school when I realized that I was gay, meeting Stuart, and losing my virginity at last, the terrible pain of being booted out of my home by my parents.  Oh Stuart.  Do you know how much I love you?

I dressed quickly, and ran all the way to Stuart’s office.  I barged in, startling the life out of him.  I grabbed him and kissed him with such passion, I thought he would pass out on me.

“I love you,” I yelled over and over.  “Please don’t leave me.  I remember everything.  I remember us.”

“Calm down, baby.  I could never leave you.  I thought we might ask George to share the townhouse with us, at least until you found someone.” 

Then it sunk in.  “You remember?” he asked with his jaw hanging open.

“Yes, everything.  Hold me.  Don’t let me go.  I don’t want to forget again.”

Stuart held me and we began to kiss.  When we came up for air, I saw tears in his eyes.  “Yes,” he said, “that kiss was like old times.”

“Take the rest of the day off, and come home with me.”

We made love all afternoon, and Stuart insisted that the new me was even better than the old me.  We were cuddling cozily in bed, when it occurred to me that George was coming for dinner.  I jumped out of bed, and reminded Stuart.

He pulled me back into bed.  “Don’t worry.  I lied to you.  He’s not coming.  I just wanted to make you jealous.  I hoped and prayed, it might somehow bring you back to me, and it seems to have miraculously worked.  Having sex with George was a lot of fun.  He’s a wonderful passionate lover, but he has commitment problems, and I’m not the one to cure him.  Actually he was hotter for you than for me anyway, but you sort of shied away from him.  I told him about your amnesia, and how you were trying to make me believe that you remembered, when you didn’t, so that I wouldn’t be hurt.” 

Stuart started to laugh.  “You know what he said to me?  He said that if you ever remembered how to be gay again, to please call him for a threesome.  That would be all right with me someday, but for the foreseeable future, I want you all to myself.”

I jumped out of bed again.  “What now?” Stuart asked.

“Get dressed.  We are going out to celebrate my coming out for the second time, and when we get back home, I intend to make you so happy, you’ll forget all these months that I didn’t.”

As Stuart was dressing, he began to fear that I would have a remission one day, and forget him again.  He shrugged it off and decided not to worry about it on this glorious day of celebration.  He would worry about it tomorrow.  After all, tomorrow is another day.

End

Posted: 09/20/13