Learning the Ropes Ch. 01

"Definitely," he says. "But it's missing something, and I can't quite figure it out. I'm going to give it a think, but why don't you show me a thing or two on the bench before I hit the showers?"

I nod. "Sure. You want to bench or what?"

"I have no clue. What do you suggest?"

"In that case, a bench press, a dumbell fly, and a chest press."

"OK, then. Teach me how to do those last two and check my form on the bench."

He steps over the bench, straddling it, and sits down. "I'm all yours. Tell me what I should be doing."

I smile, picking up two two-pounders and hand these to him.

"What, don't you trust me with the big boy weights?" Mark always has some snide remark prepared.

"I would, but we're just going through form. Didn't you say you strained something?"

"Yeah," he says, rubbing his pectoral to illustrate.

"Well, then, we go light."

We run through the bench press, and I critique his form. He's throwing the weights up, which tells me he doesn't have the control he needs to lift with good form. When I mention this to him, he nods and asks about the fly. I stand at his shoulders and take his wrists into my palms.

"So, you're going to bring your arms up straight above your chest; extend fully here. Then, you drop them out to the sides."

I release his wrists and bring a palm to cover his right pec. "You should feel pulling here." I brush my hand over his taut chest muscle to check the tension and nod. "Like that."

"That smarts a bit."

"Well, if you strained anything, that would explain it."

He nods. "What about the chest press?"

I take his wrists into my hands again and bring his arms straight up. "All you do is lift alternating arms to extend them straight up. This also works your shoulders." Here I touch his deltoid. "And you might feel it in your arms, too." My hand runs along his tricep, and I feel a stirring between my legs again.

This is getting ridiculous.

"Anyways, I'm starved. Do you want to go through it one more time, or..."

"No, that's OK. I think I've got it. I'll just hop in the shower. Why don't you pour a drink and I'll be out before you can say 'My name is Will' in Vietnamese."

"Yeah, well, I can't even remember how to say that, so you'll definitely be out before then."

He smiles and is gone. I set about mixing up drinks but soon have doubts about the ratios. I add some seltzer water to whiskey and taste. The burning in the back of my throat tells me I've gone way too heavy on the alcohol. After a bit of trial and error, the fire in the glass has died down, and I am able to drink without much problem. It's still a little heavy-handed; I decide there is no way I will be getting a job as a mixologist any time soon.

With drink in hand, I fall back onto the brown leather sofa and kick my bare feet up onto the chest. It takes a minute to figure out the remote, but soon I'm toggling through Mark's collection of saved movies and TV shows. Most of these are documentaries and sitcoms I've heard of but never bothered to watch. My eyes dart to the final title in the list and my finger faulters on the remote.

David & Felix - First Time

My heart thuds against my ribs. I throw a nervous glance at the hallway leading to the bathroom. Still no sign of Mark's return. I can hear the water running. Without another thought, I hit the large circle in the center of the remote control, and the screen goes blank.

A still camera comes into focus to reveal a male duo sitting on a white duvet. One of them is beautiful. There is no other way to describe him. His hair is longish and brushed to the side, thick auburn locks swept across his pale forehead. His blue eyes peer into the dark eyes of the man rubbing his bare chest. His muscles tense when his companion begins to kiss his neck and rake at his chest with one hand. They exchange no words but the beautiful one is letting out low whimpers from time to time.

Without warning, the other man tugs on his auburn locks and forces his tongue past his pouty lips. He gasps and opens his mouth to the oral assault. His hands go to the other man's T-shirt and lift it above his head. The beautiful one rakes his hands through the other man's cropped black hair and begins kneading his newly exposed pecs. He pinches the nipples and pushes the man down onto the bed before bringing his narrow hips down on the other man's crotch.

"Fuck..." the bigger man declares, and then he is tugging at the thinner man's belt. This comes off, and then he is unbuttoning the fly.

I know I shouldn't be watching this. The two of them are obviously having sex. Gay sex. On Mark's TV. Mark. Newly divorced Mark. Family friend Mark. I love him like a father Mark.

Before I can carry that thought any further, the bigger man starts fisting the smaller man's dick. He pushes the smaller man onto the mattress and claims both his cock and one nipple.

"Fuck..." It takes a moment for me to register that this was not a line of dialogue but words passing my own lips. I have one hand buried in the boxers I've borrowed from Mark. I have a finger rolling along my slit, tracing the sensitive head and leaving a trail of precum.

The remote drops from my hand, and my other hand dives under my tank. I squeeze my eyes shut and focus on the heat gathering in my chest around my nipple. I strum my fingers across it and sigh as more precum spills from my dick.

"Hey, Will, how about that drink?"

My eyes shoot open to see Mark walking out from the hall, bare-chested and drying his hair with the towel draped from his shoulders. His eyes fly from the screen to the hand in my lap molesting my rod.

"Fuck," I say again, only this time, with a totally different meaning.