The Beach Boy and the "Fag"

Wilton Manors

"I've found him!" Kelly exclaimed over the telephone.  "The One!  We've only had one date, but that's enough to know!"

Kelly was one of the fitness trainers at Barney's Gym: in his 30s, about Yuri's height, with a long face, brown hair, good biceps and excellent abs and a smooth, less-than-spectacular chest.  Beneath the belt he was average, cut, with shaved pubes.  Somewhat shy and quiet, one of those high-school nerds who found self-confidence at the gym.

He would let you go down on him, to be polite, but he reciprocated only if  you were big in the belly.  The bigger the better.  Superchub, no problem.

His dream guy was fat, young, smooth, and supersized beneath the belt.

Not easy to find!  In Florida, where the beach is a few blocks away and guys wear next to nothing year round, the Wilton Manors norm was heavily muscled with 3% body fat.  Husky guys were uncommon, and fat rather rare.  Young fat guys practically unheard of.

And for whatever reason, fat guys tend to be a a little small beneath the belt.  

So who was this Tobias, the Man of Kelly's dreams?

On the night of their third date, they came over for dinner so Kelly could introduce him to his friends: Barney, Yuri, his boyfriend Jim, another fitness trainer, me, and Wade the Beach Boy.  Yuri made his famous moussaka.

Tobias was in his 20s, tall, chubby, with a smooth chest, employed as a bartender at a hotel near the beach.  Obviously smitten by Kelly: he kept his arm around him the whole evening.

But I was turned off by his greasy slicked-back hair, tattoos, rings, and unattractive leer.

And his speech, littered with profanity: "Little Kelly here, he's the best f*king c*ksucker in the business!  Holy f*k, I never c** so hard in my life!"

And the fact that he had been in prison: "There was a little queen at Kissimmee [juvenile detention center] that was on his knees every night, serviced the whole f*ing dorm, I kid you not!"


"What were you in juvie for?" I asked.

"Oh, please, we're queers.  We're all criminals, according to the hetero *holes that run this country.  Now let's get this f*ng party started.  Which of you c*ksuckers wants the first shot?"

He unzipped.  He was already fully aroused.  A perfectly shaped Kielbasa, with a round head and a small vein running up the side.

Well, I didn't mind a little profanity.

Still, I couldn't imagine quiet, shy Kelly getting along with brash, profane Tobias for long.

A week or so later, I flew out to New Mexico to visit Larry and cruise in the Navajo nation.  Then I visited Rock Island and Indianapolis for a few days.

When I got back, I saw Kelly at the gym and asked "So, is it still Paradise?"

"Oh, it's going great!  Wait -- you've been out of town.  Are you talking about Tobias?  He's history!"

"Why, what happened?"

Here's what happened:

A few days after I left for New Mexico, Wade the Beach Boy and Kelly had lunch.

"Oh, it's going great!" Kelly said.  "Great in bed!  I never met a guy with so much stamina.  I must do him like ten times a day!"

"What about outside the bedroom?" Wade asked.  "Do you have the same interests in, like movies?  Or music?  You're the world's biggest gym rat -- does Tobias even work out?"

"Not really.  He says he gets enough exercise in bed! But we go to the beach, we go dancing, we cruise together and bring guys home to share.  It's fun...but...um, have you ever heard of parties where guys have sex?  I don't mean sharing with friends -- I mean complete strangers?"

"Sure -- Bear Parties.  Boomer talks about them."

"Well, Tobias wants me to go to a Bear Party with him, down in Miami Beach. Fifty naked guys, maybe more."

"Sounds like a fun Saturday night," Wade said.  "Can I get an invitation?"

"Here's the thing.  I'm supposed to be the party's official 'fag.'"

"That is way offensive, dude."

"No, it just means a guy who likes oral sex."

Oral bottoms, guys who are into going down, are often denigrated in gay communities, even called "fags," to distinguish them from the "real men," the oral tops.  It's all sexist nonsense, based on the belief that women are oral bottoms, and being "like a woman" is reprehensible.

"But," Kelly continued,  "The 'fag" has to go down on anybody Tobias wants.  But you know I'm not into that unless the guy is chubby."

"Well then refuse, and just go with guys you find attractive."

"Yeah, but Tobias told me to.  He already told everyone I was going to do it.  He's kind of in charge in the relationship.  He calls himself 'the guy," like I'm 'the girl."

"Ok."  Wade thought for a moment.  "Here's what you do.  First, get me an invitation."

The party was held in one of those extraordinarily expensive glass-and-steel apartments with a picture window looking out onto the ocean and the tv hidden away in a teakwood cabinet.  There were about 30 guys, a good mix of older and younger, occupying the living room and two bedrooms.

Tobias stationed the "fag" on a stool in a small alcove.  Wade said he wanted to mingle, but stood close by anyway.

After a few minutes, Tobias returned with a tall, thin older guy, naked, with a sizeable Bratwurst.  "Is this the fag?"  he asked, looking at Kelly.

"No, I am," Wade said, kneeling and going to work.

Tobias glared at Kelly, but what could he do?  He wandered off, found a thin twink, and brought him to the alcove.

"Sorry, Kelly's taking a break," Wade said.  "But I'm free."  He fell to his knees and got to work.

Tobias walked off in a huff.

Afterwards Wade wandered around until he found a chubby guy, and invited him into the alcove, where Kelly eagerly went to work.

Tobias appeared with another tall, thin guy, saw that Kelly was busy, and exclaimed "Hey, what the f*k?  You refuse all the guys I bring over, but when Wade brings someone..."

"Don't worry," Wade said.  "I'll take care of him."

"That's not the point!  Kelly is supposed to be the f*ing c*ksucker, f*ing going down on whatever guy I say!"

"I think that's called pimping," Wade murmured.  "Is Kelly your boyfriend or your employee?"

That was the end of Kelly' romance with Tobias.

But he did meet someone else at the party: big belly, thick uncut Mortadella.

Ok, he was 55 years old, and had a hairy chest.

But at least he didn't call Kelly a "fag."

See also: The Beach Boy and the Giant; Carlos and his Two Secrets.

Wade the Beachboy Cruises for Hawaiian Men

Wilton Manors, Summer 2004

"I read an interesting article in the Gay News,"  my ex-boyfriend's hookup tells us.  "It was about the gay traditions of kanaka maoli, traditional Hawaiian society. "

With three housemates dating and hooking up regularly, you never know who will be sitting at the breakfast table, especially on weekends.  This morning there's seven, including my housemate Yuri, my ex-boyfriend Wade,  and Ricardo, the Cuban-American dance instructor who Yuri and Wade "shared" last night.

"The aikane, or male bedmate, was a standard part of the culture," Ricardo continues.  "Every guy had a wife and an aikane." 

"I always thought of Hawaii as a 'good place,'" I say, "Where same-sex desire is open.

"Me, too!" Wade exclaims.  "I applied to the University of Hawaii for my undergrad degree, but my parents talked me into staying home in Canada.  I should have gone!  Hawaiian men are so hot!"

"And I'd love to hear the Hawaiian language spoken," I add.

"You could get your chance," Ricardo says.  "According to the article, there are 400,000 native Hawaiians on the mainland, most of them right here in Florida."

"That's 200,000 men," Yuri calculates, "100,000 adult men, 10,000 adult gays."

"Nice odds!" Ricardo says.  "You could get an aikane easily, if you plan your strategy right."

"And when you do, bring him around," I add.  "I want to talk to him."

"Or use your mouth, anyway," Wade says.  Everyone laughs.

Where do you find gay native Hawaiians in Florida?

The Polynesian restaurants in Fort Lauderdale, the Big Kahuna and the Mai-Kai, are tacky, touristy, and very heterosexual, with "shows" featuring gyrating women in grass skirts.

There is a Hawaiian Civic Association in Melbourne, but its brochure lists "family friendly," that is, heterosexual-only events.

But: Florida International University in Miami.  10% of the 50,000 students are Pacific Islanders, mostly native Hawaiians.

 5,000 of them, 2,500 male, 250 gay male.

Ok, where to find them?

Wade checks the schedule of classes for something on Pacific Island anthropology, languages, cultures...and finds Hawaiian Language 101, offered through the Asian Studies Department!

Surely lots of native Hawaiians would enroll in such a class!

It's a long drive on terrible Florida highways, but at least his job at the hotel will pay the tuition, if he tells them that language study will come in handy in speaking to tourists.



Week 1

Hawaiian 101 was held on Tuesdays and Thursdays in the Deuxieme Maison,  "The Second House," actually a long, low concrete building.

Wade loved the language.  Only 8 consonants, including a glottal stop: H, K, L, M, N, P, W. And no dipthongs.  So Merry Christmas becomes Mele Kalikimaka.

The professor was a woman of Irish, Japanese, and Hawaiian ancestry, not a native speaker; she said that there were only about 2,000 native speakers left, but 200,000 people have learned some Hawaiian to get in touch with their roots.

What about your classmates?

11 women, 8 other men.  Of the men, one was haole, one black, the rest native Hawaiians trying to fill the "foreign language" requirement and get in touch with their roots at the same time.

Are any of the six native Hawaiian men gay?

It was hard to tell.  They all came and left in a group, and didn't interact much with the haole boys.



Week 2

Class is cancelled due to the hurricane.

Week 3

The Hawaiian for "I have a big stick" is i loaa he nui lāʻau

Week 4

"I finally managed to get a cruisy conversation with one of my classmates," Wade tells us.  "David.  He's majoring in Mass Communications.  He was excited to find out that I'm from Canada."

Week 5

"Made it!" Wade exclaims.  "David is gay, but closeted.  We went out for coffee, and then back to his dorm room."

"How big is he?" Yuri asks.

"You know I'm usually into older guys, but David is super-hot.  Very handsome face, smooth chest, xylophone abs, thick Smooth chest, tight pec muscles, very affectionate. We kissed, cuddled, he went down on me, I went down on him."

"How big?" Yuri repeats.

Wade smiles.  "I kept choking."

Week 6

"Ok, you've been out with David three times," I say.  "Time to introduce him."

"And share him," Yuri adds.

"He hasn't been out very long," Wade says, "And he's a little on the shy side.  I'm not sure he'd be up for sharing with both of you. Maybe Yuri could share, and I could talk him into letting Boomer watch."

"Fine with me."

"Bring him on Thursday night," Yuri says.  "For dinner."

Week 7

Yuri is not really interested in sharing Wade's boyfriend -- he's into bodybuilder types, not twinks.  He'll do it, of course, just to be polite.

But I'm thrilled.  I spend the week remembering the Pacific hunks of my childhood: Call It Courage, Robinson Crusoe on Mars, the tales of Robert Louis Stevenson.  Dusky, muscular Hawaiian guys fill my fantasies.

Finally Thursday night comes.  Barney is out, so it will be just the four of us.  Yuri makes moussaka, with a green salad and dolmas, stuffed grape leaves.  I rent a new porn movie to set the mood for later.

The doorbell rings promptly at 6:00.  I open it to Wade, carrying a fruit compote for dessert, and his new boyfriend David, from Hawaiian class.

A curly-haired haole.

Actually of English, Portuguese, and Japanese ancestry.

Well, Wade never actually said the guy was native Hawaiian.

At least he was not as shy as Wade thought, open to "sharing" with both of us, and very well hung.

There's a story about searching for native Hawaiian men in Hawaii on The Gay Guide to Small Town Beefcake.  See "The Haole Hunks of Kauai, Hawaii"

My Romance with Wade the Beach Boy

Wilton Manors, June 2002

You're probably thinking that life in Florida was like Seinfeld, where Jerry, George, and Elaine have a constant parade of boyfriends and girlfriends with annoying quirks that prompt a quick breakup: talks too low; laughs too loud; won't taste your dessert; wears the same outfit every day.

Late in the series, they didn't even bother with introductions, knowing that there would be a new one next week.

In Florida, we typically dated guys for a month or less, too, but the relationships rarely ended due to annoying quirks.  Nor were there many heart-to-heart discussions of "are we right for each other?" or "where is this relationship going?"

It was just that, after three dates, or five, or ten, things just kind of fizzled out.

1. You were putting more into the relationship than you were getting.

2. The logistics of time and travel were impossible to maintain.

3. You didn't fit in with each other's friends.

4. He didn't share enough of your interests, and you didn't want to pursue his.

Like the beach.

Granted, I went to the beach more in Florida than I had in West Hollywood.  We lived only about 10 blocks away.

Dates often ended with a walk on the beach.

We held picnics and parties there.

But I have very fair skin, so I rarely took my shirt off, and even more rarely went into the water.

When I did, it was just to splash around.

Then Wade appeared at the Filling Station: tall, curly haired, solid physique, smooth chest, very pale skin, a recent graduate of McGill University in Montreal, who was now working the front desk at a resort.

Our first date was the standard dinner-and-a-movie, with conversation involving our coming out stories, fundamentalist Christians, bodybuilding, my date with Richard Dreyfuss, and the gay-subtext romance between Harry Potter and Ron Weasley.  We spent the night at my house, where he proved to be a little small beneath the belt, but very energetic.

I was swooning with infatuation.

Until I discovered why a business major from Montreal would take a job as a front desk clerk at a resort in Florida.

The beach. Every day before and after work.

On our second date, Wade talked me into going swimming -- not just splashing around, but actual breast strokes, out into the deep water of the Atlantic Ocean, halfway to the Bahamas.

On our third date, I talked him into an afternoon at the museum, followed by a walk on the beach and dinner at the house.

It went on like that.

Theater?
Scuba diving.
Ballet?
Wind-surfing.
Stay in and watch a DVD?
Midnight swim.

Wade started browning, with definite tan lines.

I started burning.

Ok, Wade was attractive, intelligent, interesting to talk to, and memorable in the bedroom, but the sun and sand routine was a bit much.

But by this point, he and Yuri had bonded, and were hanging out nearly every day, making a breakup awkward.

Cruising at the bars?
Sailing.
A movie?
Swimming.
Shopping?
Swimming.

How about a reverse roommate switch, pawning Wade off onto Yuri?

Nope, they weren't attracted to each other.  Yuri liked guys who were more muscular, and bigger beneath the belt, and Wade was into older guys.

Barney?

Nope, nothing in common.  Barney never dipped a toe in the water, and Wade wasn't much of a gym rat.

Concert?
Sailing.
Bear party?
Swimming.
Cruising at the bars?
Swimming.

Finally I tried the only thing I could think of: just say no.  

"Sorry, I'm a little tired, not up for the beach today.  But we can go out to dinner."

"I have a little headache, I shouldn't go into the water.  But how about a movie?"

"It's too cold outside today.  But we can go to a nice heated shopping mall."

Until eventually Wade faded away.  Neither of us had done anything wrong, really.  We just came from different sides of the beach.

See also: The Shy Boy in the Third Row; Wade and the Giant.

My Date with Jack the Vacuum Cleaner

Wilton Manors, December 2002

Grocery store employees aren't exactly fantasy hookups.  They don't come to your house, and when you see them at work, they're sliding your canned goods over scanners while a dozen people wait behind you.

Besides, the checkers are mostly women, and the baggers are mostly high school boys.  Not much to work with.

But take another look at the college-age boys and young adults, in their shortsleeved shirts, biceps straining over industrial-sized crates of lettuce.  They develop a lot of upper body strength.

Besides, you're there at the same time every week.  There's lots of time to cruise.

And you're out, as openly gay as you can get without a sign, two guys pushing a single shopping cart, or a single guy buying vegetables, fruit, and lean meats, with no Hamburger Helper or Hot Pockets in sight.

In West Hollywood, we had the gay Safeway, on Santa Monica a few blocks down from the Rage. 90% of the customers were gay.

In Florida we had the Publix, down the street from Rosie's Bar and Grill.  A lot of heterosexuals, but enough gay people that we could be open without fear of homophobic harassment.

My housemates and I ate most of our breakfasts and dinners together, and Barney did all of the shopping.  So I only went to the Publix when I wanted something not on his list, like soda or snack foods.

I was always impressed by the number of cute guys working there, but I didn't go often enough to get to know faces, let alone cruise anyone.

So it came as a surprise one day in early December 2002, when I went to the Publix to get Christmas candy, and a guy stocking cereal said "Hey, you're one of Wade's friends, aren't you?  I've seen you here with him."

Wade was a recent graduate of McGill University in Toronto who worked in a hotel.  We dated for a few weeks last summer.  He and Yuri had become friends, so he was around the house a lot, and sometimes we "shared."  I couldn't remember when I had been in Publix with him -- maybe one night when he came over for dinner.

But I smiled and said "Yep.  I'm Boomer."

"Jack."

We shook hands.  He was a beach boy, in his 20s, about my height, with dark-blond curly hair, a round face, a rather muscular physique, and big hands.

"How do you know Wade?"

"He dated my boss, the Giant.   I was sad that they broke up...they seemed really good together."  He paused.  "So...um...I have to get back to work, but maybe we could get together later?  I get off at 7:00."

"I'm busy tonight, but how about the weekend?"

We exchanged phone numbers, and I finished my shopping and went home.

And immediately called Wade for the dish on Jack.

"I met him through the Giant," Wade told me. "Super nice guy.  A little closeted -- he still lives with his conservative Mom."

"How long did you date?"

"Um...just the one time.  He was nice and all, but...."

"Not big enough beneath the belt?"

"Oh, it's not that.  He's got a nice body.  It's just...I'm really into older guys, for one thing, and for another, we weren't compatible in bed."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't want to say anything negative, and turn you off.  He's a really nice guy.  You'll see."

How mysterious!  I was definitely going out with Jack now!

On our date, we had dinner at Rosie's, and then went cruising at the Manor.  Jack told me with a grin that he grew up in Harlem -- it's a very small, very conservative town on Lake Okeechobee, in central Florida:  "Nothing there but a bar and a Pentecostal church.  My dad went to one, and my mom went to the other."

The two eventually divorced, and Mom and Jack  moved to Fort Lauderdale.

Jack continued going to a hardcore fundamentalist church,  planned to become a preacher, and enrolled at Pensacola Christian College.

He dropped out during his difficult coming-out process.  He had been working at Publix for two years, and intended to make it his career.

We spent a lot of time comparing notes about our fundamentalist childhoods, and talking about the passages in the Bible that are used to promote homophobia, even though they have nothing to do with gay people.

So far so good.  He was very cute, and we had a lot in common.

Then we went into the bedroom.

Nice physique, average beneath the belt gifts, kissed like a vacuum cleaner, using suction to pull my mouth into his.  Not terribly pleasant.

I pushed him away.  We fondled for a bit, and then he went down on me.

Like a vacuum cleaner.

The suction was so great that it hurt.

"Not so rough!" I exclaimed.

"Sorry." He fondled me for a bit and then tried again.

Again, like a vacuum cleaner.  I let him work for a few minutes, and then pulled his head away.  It was hard to dislodge him.

Do you have to be trained in oral sex?  I never received any instruction except "watch your teeth."

"Here, let me show you how."

I went down on him.  He finished almost instantly.

"Ok, now you try."

Like a vacuum cleaner.  I dislodged him, and we went to sleep.

The next day my penis was sore, and there was blood in my urine.  The doctor told me that small capillaries had burst due to the over-energetic oral sex.  Not serious, but rather frightening.

And no more dates with the Vacuum Cleaner.

See also: Wade the Beach Boy; Wade and the Giant; Picking Up the Checker in the Grocery Store

The Beach Boy and the Giant, Part 2

Wilton Manors, September 2002

This is Part 2 of the story of the Beach Boy and the Giant.

We left everyone asleep on the night of September 22nd, 2002:

Barney is in bed with Brent, the the 6'10", broad-shouldered giant who he met at the bathhouse.

Across the hall, my other housemate Yuri is in bed with Wade.

In his bedroom off the kitchen, Boomer is in bed alone.

Just another Sunday night in the gay ghetto.

Wade lies awake, trying to think of a way to hook up with the Giant without offending Barney.

He tried for a midnight sausage sighting in the bathroom, and got Barney instead.

Maybe he could get up and "accidentally" get into the wrong bed?

No -- he has been here many times.  He knows the house too well.

He gets up, goes into the kitchen, and helps himself to some leftover rhubarb crisp.


He hears footsteps -- Barney again?  Yuri?

It's the Giant, naked except for his bikini briefs.  Wade's heart begins to beat fast, but he plays it cool and tries not to stare at the Giant's basket.

 "Want some rhubarb crisp?" he asks nonchalantly.

"Sure."  He sits at the kitchen table and grabs a plate. His gigantic hand dwarfs his fork.  "So, are you and Yuri a couple?"

"No, dude, just friends...I'm totally single," Wade says, overjoyed.  The Giant is into him!

"What about Boomer?  Is he single?"

"Um...yes.  Why?"

"Well, I shouldn't say this, right in the middle of a date, but he's totally hot, exactly my type!  Barney is nice, but -- well, I think I'm going to ask Boomer out."

Boomer?  Wade repeats, hurt, offended.

But then he comes up with a plan.  "You know, Boomer and I used to be boyfriends.  He's only into young, slim, twink types.  If you're over 30, forget it.  He was with Yuri for years, but when Yuri gets too old, he dumped him.  That's why he dumped me, too."

These are all lies, but they have the intended effect.  The Giant stares at his plate. "So I guess a guy in his 50s has no chance with him."

"Not of romancing him, no.  But there's always hooking up."

"But...if he's not into older guys, why would he want to hook up with me?"

"Ex-boyfriends always get invited into your bed."

The Giant grins.  "So if we were dating, I could spend the night with him.  But would you mind going out with me just so I could get Boomer into bed?"

"I'm willing to make the sacrifice."

"I see -- you still have a thing for Boomer yourself, right?"

So, with Wade's telephone number in hand, the Giant returns to his bed.


The Giant waits until he and Barney have settled into a friendship before calling Wade.  Then, during the next two weeks, they date four or five times, mostly to go swimming or boating, or to walk along the beach.  Everyone thinks it's an instant romance, like the ones we used to have in West Hollywood.

No one knows that the couple isn't actually getting intimate, that they end the evening with a hug-on-the-doorstep and then return to their separate apartments.

Wade doesn't mind.  He's biding his time.

Then he calls me.  "Are you free on Saturday?  I want you to come over and share the Giant."

I  hesitate -- he's not at all my type. But it's only polite, and besides, sharing the Giant would mean time with Wade, too.

Saturday, October 19th.

I drive to the Giant's small garden apartment (the front door opens directly onto the yard).

The Giant doesn't cook -- when you work in a supermarket, you can't stand the sight of food -- so we order a pizza and watch a DVD.

We are all sitting on the couch, on either side of the Giant.  He puts his massive arms around both of us.

Not at all attractive, but I'm sure he'll be enormous beneath the belt.

Suddenly the Giant envelops me in a hug and shoves his massive tongue down my throat.  I grope him. Average beneath-the-belt gifts.

We move into the bedroom.  Wade tries to go down on the Giant, but he pushes him away and grabs my head instead.

I assume that they are kissing and fondling as I work, but when I look up, Wade is lying on the bed alone.

"Is anything wrong?" I ask.

"No, no.  I just like to watch."


I move to the bed and start kissing Wade, expecting the Giant to go down on him, or to reach for a condom.  Instead he goes down on me.

And so on for the whole night.

A few days later, Barney tells me that they have broken up.

"The Giant is pretty upset.  I'm going over later to try to cheer him up.  You should come, too."

"Why me?"

"Apparently you made quite an impression the other night.  He can't stop talking about you."

It takes a few weeks for me to get the story out of Wade.

See also: The Beach Boy at the Bear Party

The Beach Boy and the Giant, Part 1

Wilton Manors
Saturday, September 21st, 2002

A Saturday morning during my second year in Florida.  We're all sitting at breakfast, when my housemate Barney abruptly announces that he plans to go to a bathhouse.

Yuri and I hide behind cereal boxes to hide our shock. Barney is a former bodybuilder who runs a mostly-gay gym.  He lives a scrupulously healthy lifestyle: low-fat diet, daily exercise, meditation, herbal supplements.  And, after he lost his partner to AIDS three years ago, no hookups.

He dates, of course, and occasionally he invites us into his bed to "share," but he would never dream of casual sex.

"Are you ok?" Yuri asks.  "I don't think you liked bathhouses."

"Well, I haven't been to one for ages.  But think about it -- I'm 61 years old, I have Cute Young Things clamoring to get into my bed all the time, but all the guys my age are taken or not interested.  I figure the bathhouse is my best place to find someone my age.

"You know it's mostly for anonymous sex, right?" I say, dubious.

"But you often make a date with the guy afterwards.  At least, you did in my day."

"Well...do you want us to go with you, show you the ropes?"

He chuckles and turns back to his egg white omelet.  "I was going to bathhouses while you were still in diapers.  I think I can handle myself."

We advise him that the bathhouse would have a lot of older guys in the mid-afternoon or early evening, so he goes about 5:00 pm, after pumping up at the gym.  I can't wait around to hear the details -- I have a date with a guy in Boca Raton.

Saturday evening

When I return from my date, Barney is already in bed.  I peer through the open bedroom door, curious.  Nope -- he's alone.

Sunday morning

"So, how did it go?" I ask over breakfast.

"Some sex, some prospects," he says with a sly grin.  "Nobody spectacular.  I'm going to try again this afternoon."

On Sunday afternoon, I have to work at the gym, and Yuri goes swimming with Wade the Beach Boy, my ex-boyfriend.

After we broke up, Wade and Yuri stayed friends, so he hangs around the house a lot, and sometimes spends the the night in Yuri's bed.

They never do anything together except for some incidental groping.  They simply aren't attracted to each other. They are both twinks -- 24 and 28 years old, respectively, smooth, pleasantly muscular but not bodybuilders and they both like 40+, super-muscular, with Mortadella+ beneath the belt.

Sunday evening

My shift ends, and I go home to find Yuri and Wade in the living room, watching Futurama and eating Chinese food.  I help myself to some kung pao chicken and join them to watch King of the Hill and The Simpsons.

Then Barney returns with the Jolly Green Giant: about 60, huge, at least 6'8" tall, with gigantic shoulders, a massive chest.

"This is Brent," Barney announces.  "He works at the Publix [supermarket] on Sunrise.  This is Yuri, Wade, and Boomer."

He shakes each of our hands.  His hands are huge, as big as typewriters.

"Where do you train?" Yuri asks politely.  Wade just stares as if he has never seen anyone so beautiful before.

"I don't train," the Giant says, his voice a deep basso profundo.  "I do some sit-ups and push-ups, but that's about it."

"It's all from moving boxes all day!" Barney exclaims.  "Can you believe it?  Brent is a natural!"

"Did you meet at the bathhouse?" I ask.

Barney grins.  "That would be telling."

They decide to watch Malcolm in the Middle with us.  Barney takes his favorite chair, and the Giant sits on the floor in front of the couch, leaning his arms against my lap and Wade's leg.

Wade starts to blush and grabs a pillow to cover his arousal.

Yuri notices, too.  "Will you spend the night?" he asks Wade with a grin.

Barney goes to the kitchen to get some of his famous low-fat rhubarb crisp for dessert.

Sunday night

Picture it: Barney and the Giant in their bedroom, with the door a crack open (Barney is a fresh air freak). The sounds of erotic activity drift across the hall to Yuri's bedroom, the door also a crack open.  Yuri is reading a book and Wade is lying in his underwear, thinking.

"I could just..."

Yuri cuts him off.  "You don't share on the first date. And they don't even ask you."

"But dude, he's so hot!  So tall -- I'll bet he's got a big one!"

"He is Barney's date.  You must keep your hands off."

Soon Yuri turns off the light and goes to sleep.  But Wade doesn't.  He lies awake, thinking.

After awhile he hears the door of Barney's room creak open, footsteps down the hall, and someone urinating.  He jumps out of bed, rushes to the bathroom, and flings open the door, planning to say "Oh, sorry, I didn't know...." and at least get a glimpse of the Giant's Mortadella+.

It's Barney.

The rest of the story is here.

See also: Wade the Beach Boy; Jack the Vacuum Cleaner.