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Laura and I had planned this trip for the past five years. Shortly before we got married, I was retrenched, and we had to cancel the plans for our honeymoon. We had a beautiful wedding though, and the past years together have been bliss. We got things going again, financially, and soon we were doing well. Neither of us wanted children, instead we supported three young children with their school fees and some money for clothes and ‘nice things’ as Benji — one of the boys — called it. This brought us much joy, being able to help. Yes, Laura had a beautiful heart and she was a loving spirit.
The first leg of our honeymoon was a two-week travel through Germany, Switzerland and Austria. We took the slow train from Frankfurt and stopped in the towns of Kassel, Marburg and Hanover on our way to Hamburg. After some days in Hamburg, we took the speed train to Munich. I loved Munich. We traveled to the Alps and spent a day in Salzburg, Austria, and had two days in Zurich, then traveled back to Frankfurt where we embarked on our journey to Chicago. Yes, both Laura and I dreamed of visiting the windy city. For me it was Ferris Bueller’s Day Off. I loved that movie and imagined myself venturing through the city where Ferris got up to mischief. Laura was an architect and she was fascinated by the buildings, the river ways and the architecture of Chicago.
We arrived at O’hare International mid-morning. There was a heavy army and police presence. There were random searches of passengers and luggage and sniffer dogs everywhere. I must admit, it was a little intimidating. We got through this mangle and made our way to the Westin which was our base for the next 12 days.
Chicago was all it promised to be. We enjoyed the water cruise, the museums, Blue Jazz, Merle Reskin Theater. We took a train to Milwaukee and spent two days there. On our way back we stopped over in Lake Forest where we were hosted by Pete (a good mutual friend) and his family.
When we got back to Chicago, the city was a hive of activity. It was the Labor Day weekend and downtown Chicago was packed.
We made our way to Millennium Park around 11 that morning. There were thousands of people enjoying the music and jazz and entertainment. It was festive, but this would all change in a flash.
We were sitting at a table by the Bean. She looked so beautiful, my Laura. We met at university. I was studying in the library one evening, when this girl came and sat at the table across from me. She slyly took a muffin out of her bag and gracefully started eating it, even though it was prohibited. She attracted me. It may sound silly, but I fell in love with the way that she used her finger, gathering each little crumb around her mouth and then licking them off her fingers. She was doing the same now with the burrito that she was munching on.
The clowns appeared almost out of thin air, making funny faces and giggling gestures. Everyone around started smiling and pointing at them. There must have been about 10 or so of them. It looked like a flash mob. Laughs erupted all over. When one pointed a gun in our direction, I guess I thought it was still part of the act until Laura’s blood hit the side of my face and I saw her head dropping with a thud on the table. In the background I heard screams and anguish and gunfire. I saw bodies dropping around me as the clowns proceeded to shoot at everyone in sight — women, children, babies, the elderly.
‘Run’ my mind told me. But I could not leave my Laura behind. Then I saw another clown swinging his gun in our direction once more. I ran and dived into a nearby hedge.
There were others hiding in the hedge, crying sobbing, praying to God for help and protection. I was laying on top of someone. Silent tears were running down my shocked face. My face was right up against this man’s face. The tips of our noses were almost touching.
“We are going to be okay. We are going to be okay,” he said with fearful trembling in his baritone voice.
Some more shots were fired dangerously close to us. He pulled my head down and his other arm went around my waist as he held me and protected me.
Amidst the tragedy, I felt safer than I had ever been. I knew that we were going to survive; this stranger and me.
Almost as soon as the mayhem started, the shots ended. There was an ominous lull for what seemed like a lifetime. The stranger’s arms were still holding me tightly. The side of my face against his, as I was suddenly aware of his smell and the way my body was laying perfectly on top of his, all the way down to where our pelvises met. I was suddenly aware of my legs spread and cupping his legs on either side. I was suddenly aware that my cock was pressing against his, erect and intimately. I was suddenly aware that the same realization had dawned on him in the same moment. Unintentionally, my crotch pushed against his tenderly, and his huge hand landed on my ass to reassure me that it was okay.
“Are you dudes okay!” I heard someone asking nearby.
The moment was interrupted.
“Yes! poker oyna Yes!” he affirmed, and he released his hand from my ass regrettably.
I looked into his eyes. He had the most beautiful brown eyes I had ever seen. My cock rubbed against his involuntarily once more. His mouth opened like he was going to say something, but no words escaped. We both got up without saying a word.
“Anton! Anton! Anton! Thank God you are okay!” a woman’s voice cried when she saw him.
By the table where we were seated, I saw Laura’s lifeless body with her head still slumped on the table.
47 people lost their lives that day. My Laura was one of them. It was later reported that Chicago authorities were informed of a possible attack, weeks prior. All ten terrorists were caught. But I was never again the same.
Four years later, I was in Rio with some of my mates. I was in a long period of mourning and had been for extensive counselling. My buddy, Jake, believed that the only thing that would cure me, would be to go to Rio for the Mardi Gras. I have known Jake since we were children. And, I knew for a fact that this had always been one of his dreams for boys’ time away. So, I agreed.
Jake, Frank, Simon and I, landed in Sao Paulo in high spirits. In Rio we enjoyed Copacabana and Ipanema Beach, and the beautiful women.
“Tell me again, G,” Jake beamed. “Tell me: Jake you were right! This is the best boys’ time-out ever!” he jived gulping his beer.
“Yes, Jake, you were right,” I agreed, winking at Franky and Simon.
The three of them were exhaustive. We partied every night until the early hours of the morning and slept in late to charge our batteries for the next night out. In the midday, we were on the beaches, meeting up with chicks and fooling around. It was crazy, but it was what I had needed. I felt rejuvenated. I even ventured to snog some local chicas.
The Mardi Gras itself, was an awesome experience. It was truly spectacular. We met some people on day two of the carnival. They were a great bunch of people. They invited us to join them and some friends at their place for a night of fun, drinks and party! We all accepted and arrived at their place in Leblon, late afternoon the day after the Mardi Gras. Their place was incredibly beautiful with breathtaking views. There were local celebs and some high profile and interesting people at the party. Drugs were not frowned upon, and literally everyone there participated and shared, including Jake, Simon, Frank and I.
I was on a buzz and horny as hell!
The buds and I caucused midway through the party. We agreed that this was a jackpot occasion, and that we would all find our ways back to our hotel if the evening thus dictated, i.e. if any of us got lucky, which was very likely. And, so it did, for we were all engrossed in heavy petting before pumpkin hour. Franky was the first one to score and left the party with a six-foot bombshell. Jake and Simon gave me a thumbs up when they departed with two sexy chicas on their arms. Alexandra — my chica — and I, were still enjoying the music and dance as the space started to clear out. She told me some time later, that she was ready to leave and invited me to her place. I accepted. I went to the bathroom quickly before we left.
I knocked at the closed bathroom door, but there was no answer. So, I opened the unlocked door and walked inside.
“Hey, sorry man,” I said when I saw the dude pissing.
“No probs,” he replied without looking at me. “I am almost done here. You might as well wait, before some else jumps the queue.”
“Thanks,” I said and closed the door behind me, “because I have a real big piss on board.”
“Here,” he said and shifted to make space for me.
Nothing weird about that. We guys often accommodate each other like this. In reflex, I locked the door behind me and tiptoed to the pot and pulled out my cock and the piss jetted from my sprout.
“That sure is urgent,” he mocked and we both giggled.
Then our eyes met.
“Anton!” I heard a woman’s voice knocking on the door. “I will meet you outside. The cab is here,” she informed.
My stream stopped.
I thought I was okay after all these years. In that moment, I relived Laura’s blood splashing against my face. I remembered the dire screams and agony. I remembered running for cover and finding a safe space, when this man held me and promised me that we would make it okay. I remembered how comforting it was in his arms. Without announcement, tears welled down my face as my eyes remained locked on his.
His hand cupped my face, and his thumb wiped away my tears. Eyes questioning, Anton pulled me towards him and kissed me hard, until my lips parted to allow his yearning tongue relief. I sobbed whilst he kissed me. His hand was now behind my head, pulling my mouth tighter against his eager tongue. His other arm was wrapped round my waist; same, like that fateful day in Chicago. I stepped back against the wall behind me and he followed, canlı poker oyna refusing to release his hold on me. My hands reached down to his buttocks and pushed his unclothed horn against mine. I got hard, and so did he.
“Oh God,” he moaned. “What the fuck,” he said in disbelief and without permission, started to wank our cocks together, searching my eyes for approval: my eyes endorsed.
He pressed his forehead against mine, lubricating our cocks with both our pre-cum as he wanked our demanding dicks. I had never been this turned on. I had never done anything like this before. It just felt as if we both wanted this. That our bodies missed and yearned for each other, and if this was what was required right now, then so be it.
I remember whispering somethings that did not make sense. Talking to him all the while as my cock got even harder against his hard, fat cock.
“Fuck, guy, I am going to cum!” he announced.
My cheeks were still moist from my tears. Anton continued to masturbate my desperate dick. I grabbed hold of him as my jizz spilled.
We kissed for a long while. Right then, I realized that this was not about who we were. It was not about our names or where we came from. This moment was not about mine or Anton’s dreams or anything that I had ever imagined. This moment was purely about Desire. I realized that I had desired Anton all my life, for nothing else had ever felt this good, nothing. Nothing else had ever made me feel this much love for anyone else, not even Laura, and I loved Laura deeply.
Anton’s mobile phone rang.
“Anton, where the fuck are you?” the female voice squealed. “The tab is running. I am waiting in the cab!” she scolded.
“Sorry love, I think I have the craps,” he lied. “Down in a second,” and he reached behind him and pulled the toilet flush.
“Guy, I have to go,” he looked at me with sad eyes.
“Give me your number,” I said.
He gave me his number and I made sure to phone him quickly so that he had mine.
“That’s me,” I said, when his phone rang.
“Please phone me,” he pleaded, and he left.
When I got back home, I phoned Wendy, my psychologist. It had been a year since I had seen her. But I was in turmoil and my thoughts were out of control. I was always honest with Wendy. I told her many years back about this dude, Anton. I told her now that I bumped into him in Brazil and that I was thinking of him every waking minute since then. Wendy told me that it would be best for me not to have any further communication with him. She explained that he was part of a sad event in my life and that I would relive that moment over and over if I opened the door.
Anton tried to phone me a couple of times. I did not answer. He eventually sent me a message that read: ‘WTF GUY!’ I did not respond. Then another message: ‘YOU KILLIN ME GUY!’
I started doubting if this encounter really happened. I thought that I might be going mad, because my heart yearned to be with Anton, and I definitely was not gay. Yet, countless were the times that I had thought about me laying perfectly on top of Anton: feeling his face against mine; feeling the warmth of his body; feeling my legs on either side of his; feeling our cocks caressing. I longed to be with him, more than wanting Laura back. Can you understand my pain! Can you imagine what it feels like, wanting to be sexual with another guy: your neighbor; your colleague; the guy at the gym; that dude installing your cable TV; your cock getting hard — unannounced — for a lifelong bud; or even someone as random as the guy who cuts your hair and rubbing his cock against you, and you saying nothing. I even remember a guy on a plane once. Laura and I were on a local flight. He was putting his luggage in the overhead compartment and as he did, he purposely pressed his cock against my shoulder. I didn’t reprimand him. Maybe, it is only me. Maybe, I have been a closet gay all this time. Maybe, I was just fucked in my head right now. But I was thinking of all the other guys out there that lived perfectly normal lives and had these un-normal gay thoughts and desires.
Years went by. I was in a supermarket and my heart suddenly pained for Anton. It was the weirdest feeling ever. I was compelled to get hold of him. I scrolled my phone for his number.
‘Anton,’ is all I texted.
‘YOU CUNT!’ he replied.
‘Guy, I have a fucking MASSIVE HARDON right now!!’ he replied seconds later. ‘Fuck Ive been dying inside.’
My dick got hot as hell.
‘Me too.’ I replied.
‘I mean, my cock is throbbing hard right now.’ I sent another message.
‘BN YRS GUY!’ he replied. ‘Wish I could be with you in this moment. Where in the world are ya?’
‘South Africa,’ I replied.
‘WTF GUY!’ he replied. ‘I movd 2 Cape Town 2yrs ago,’ he replied.
‘I live in Cape Town. Sea Point,’ I replied.
‘Im in Plattekloof. WTF GUY!!’ he replied.
‘Do you want to come to me this evening?’ I replied.
‘Just finished a meetin at Cape internet casino Quarters. I can cum strait to u if u at home,’ he replied.
‘I am at the Spar at Cape Quarters now,’ I replied.
‘YOU FUCKIN SHITTIN ME GUY!’ he replied.
‘No, I am not,’ I replied. ‘Meet me at Spar entrance,’ I replied.
‘FUCK GUY! C U NOW!!’ he replied.
I left my trolley right there and made my way to the shop entrance. I could not contain my excitement. ‘Can this be fucking real?’ I thought. ‘If so, what is this fucking universe telling me?’ I could not conceal my hard-on. I saw him rushing down the escalator. When he saw me, he stopped his haste and pretended to be calm and collected. In the crowded place we merely shook hands and hugged each other hello. His face was flushed and the veins at his temples were pumping.
“What the fuck guy?” he asked looking at me with a lifetime of lust in his eyes.
“I am not sure,” I said. “I feel like I am in the Truman Show right now.”
We both laughed.
“My car is in the basement parking,” he said nervously.
“My house is five minutes away,” I said.
“Let’s go,” he insisted, and I followed him.
When we got inside his car, we kissed hungrily for a long while.
“No fucking way, guy,” he said after his lips and tongue left mine. “No fucking way, guy!” he exclaimed, and leaned over and we kissed again, desperately.
How fucked up and weird was this. What was this? What was this?! I burst out crying like a battered bitch. I cried hard! There in that parking lot, in his car, he — Anton — consoled me, not knowing what my tears were about. I cried for Laura in that moment. I cried for the life we lost. I cried the cries of her family, friends and the children and their families we sponsored when they heard of her death. I cried so very hard for me. I cried because of some weird fucking coincidence, I was here with him, with Anton. And he was here all this fucking time, living less than 25 km from me! How very fucked up was that?!!
I remember praying once. I had nothing more. My tears were desperate. I cried and cried and cried before the Lord. I was unable to make sense of Laura’s death. Í was unable to make sense of my much hurt. I thought that God had forsaken me. I cried for my departed dad to help me. I cried for every beautiful soul that I met, those people that loved me and was now dead — I asked them to ask the Lord to help me, because I was on the verge of taking my own life. Believe me, I had thought about it. The one thing that stopped me was Anton, telling me that day that it will be okay.
‘We are going to be okay. We are going to be okay,’ was what he told me that day in Millennium Park in Chicago. I believed him. And then, we meet in Rio — uncanny was that. And now even weirder, being with him now.
My mind was so very fucked and I was freaking out a little.
“Ah, dude,” I said eventually. “Let’s get going. Turn left when you exit the parking lot.”
We did not talk much on the way to my place. I merely gave directions. When I closed the door behind us at my home, we were both a little nervous, like being on a first date.
“Can I get you a whiskey?” I asked.
“Only if it’s fine for me to spend the night here,” he responded.
“For sure,” I replied.
“Then very sufficient and neat for me please. I fucking need it right now,” he smirked.
Anton walked to the balcony.
“You can open up. The view is something else,” I said.
He walked onto the balcony and I followed him with the whiskeys.
We sat sitting on the balcony. Neither of us said much but looking at each other frequently.
“I was very sorry for you, that you lost your wife in Chicago,” he said sincerely.
“It was very tough,” I told him. “It still is very difficult for me. I often wake up in the middle of the night hearing the screams and the gunfire. I am glad that all the clowns were caught and that they are behind bars, but it did not bring Laura back,” I sulked. “You, you have a foreign accent. Where are you from?” I asked.
“I am Brazilian,” he answered. “My fiance and I were on holiday in the US at the time. She, Daniella, was also very traumatized by the event. The two of us also got separated that day, and since that day she became extremely dependent and clingy. I could not venture anywhere. She always wanted to know that I was safe.” He paused and took a big gulp of whiskey. “I guess, it became too much for me. After we broke up, she started stalking me and things became a little messy. I really felt very bad for her. I got an opportunity of a job transfer to Cape Town and I took it.”
“I am sorry to hear that,” I said.
He started unbuttoning his shirt.
“You don’t mind me getting comfortable?” he asked, when he saw me looking at him.
“Not at all,” I replied.
His skin was almost hairless and beautifully golden. His muscles were perfectly shaped. I don’t think that I had ever desired another man before. I will be lying if I said that I never sized up another guy or took a double take at my friend Simon’s cock, because Simon had a monster cock. But this was different. I experienced a flutter in my heart when I looked at Anton. I was getting aroused.
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