My Big Fat Gay Life (24 page)

I couldn’t think of anything more boring than meeting Sebastian’s friends, but I had to make the effort. I don’t know why he has this need to have other people in his life: we’ve been dating for a week and I should be enough for him.

We were having lunch at a sushi place with Kento and his boyfriend, Ian. Apparently this relationship is still in the early stages, but Seb is very happy for Kento. It’s the longest relationship Kento has ever had. I must admit that Kento has a fucking impressive physique! He has muscles bulging everywhere. How did dowdy old Ian score a hunk like that?

“So,” Kento said as he shovelled some raw fish into his mouth, “what was everyone’s defining moment when they realised they were gay?”

“Oh that one’s easy!” Ian exclaimed. “It was when I went to see ‘Titanic’ at the cinema.”

“’Titanic’?” Sebastian asked him.

“Yep. I totally fell in love with Leonardo Dicaprio. He was so adorable in that movie!”

I had the good grace to wince inwardly, but Sebastian and Kento both groaned aloud.

“Please don’t take this the wrong way,” I said to Ian, “but that film was only released, like, fifteen years ago.”

“I was a late bloomer,” Ian stated, grinning. “I went the breeder path for a long time. Wife. Kids. House in a hamlet.”

“How did you go from lusting after a skinny white boy to hooking up with this hulking black behemoth?” I asked him.

“Just lucky I guess,” Ian answered, smiling and placing his hand over Kento’s. I nearly vomited.

“You know what they say,” Kento observed. “Once you try black, you never go back!”

“I went back,” Sebastian said, poking his tongue out at Kento. So Sebastian and Kento have fucked? That was news to me.

“Not voluntarily,” Kento said. “We kicked you out of the pool we pick from. You’re terrible!”

Everyone laughed, however my laugh was forced. I was still processing the fact that Kento and Sebastian had had a relationship.

“Well anyways,” Sebastian said, “I never had a defining moment. I always knew. I can’t pinpoint a specific moment where I realised I was gay.”

“I know what my moment was,” Kento said. “I was twelve years old, and had to go to the dentist. I was sitting in the chair, and the technician was preparing me for the dentist. She leaned over as she put the bib thingy around my neck, and her uniform had a wardrobe malfunction. An enormous breast sprang out as if it were alive and leaped at me! It landed on my face like an alien in a Sigourney Weaver movie. I couldn’t breathe! I thought I was going to suffocate.”

Everyone laughed again - even me, despite myself.

* * *

Seb and I were walking back to his apartment in silence. He had a smile on his face, and had obviously enjoyed the lunch. I was mulling over his relationship with Kento, and their subsequent friendship. I remembered Kento’s bulging rippling muscles, and how intimidated I’d felt around him.

“You and Kento used to be in a relationship?” I asked him.

“Yes,” he answered. “Although it wasn’t a serious one. It only lasted a couple of weeks. He was too self-indulgent to actually have a real relationship. It looks like that’s changed though. I’m so happy for him and Ian!”

Was that a trace of regret I detected in his voice? Did he want Kento back? When relationships end, the parties involved are never supposed to speak to each other again. They’re supposed to avoid eye contact in the street! The only reason to stay friends was to keep alive the potential of getting back together. I had to knock that on the head, and quickly.

“How did you ever end up with him? He’s a hunk. Way out of your league.”

“Are you saying that I can only date ugly guys?” Sebastian asked me, giving me a puzzled look. “What does that say about you?”

“I’m not good looking,” I said, feigning humility. “But even so, you’re lucky to have me. Kento must remain friends with you out of pity.”

We continued to walk along in silence again, but now Sebastian had lost his smile and appeared to be deep in thought. Good!

I sat on the bed in my room at Patricia’s house, feeling the texture of the material. I should probably start calling it home: ironically, I could probably fit the entire home I shared with Mam and her abusive twat of a husband in my room. The material I was fondling was so soft and silky, and it totally captivated me. It was a pair of Patricia’s panties.

It’s not a sexual thing. I’m not going to masturbate with them, and I’m certainly not attracted to Patricia. I love her, yes, but not in that way. Instead, the love I feel for her is more like that of a tiger cub loving his caring, yet potentially explosive, mother. I just love the feel of the material. I’ve never had anything soft and silky in my life, metaphorically or physically.

I’d taken the panties from the clean laundry yesterday, and I had to feel them against my skin. I quickly stripped off my clothes and put on the panties. Obviously, they aren’t meant for men and my cock was squished up, but it felt good! It felt like slipping into a bath of lube - so slippery and silky.

There was a noise outside the door, followed by a quick knock on my bedroom door: two quick taps. I quickly threw on my shorts over the panties.

“Come in,” I called out cheerfully, sitting down.

“Hi Sweetheart,” Patricia said as she opened the door. “I’m just on my way to see Donovan. Do you want to come?”

“I’d love to,” I replied, “but I’m on my way to group therapy. Maybe tomorrow?”

“Sure! How are things going? Has Bilal fucked you yet?”

You’d think that after a month or so of being exposed to Patricia’s bluntness I would be used to it, but I’m not. I blushed, quickly and deeply. I was still working my way through my issue with anal sex in group therapy. I was making progress, and Bilal is extremely patient with me, however I’m still torn between fear and revulsion at being fucked, and the craving to be fucked.

“Not yet,” I finally answered Patricia.

“Maybe if you wore female lingerie you would be in more of a frame of mind to let him fuck you,” Patricia suggested. I gasped involuntarily. Patricia held out her hand. “Now give them back. They’re my favourite pair.”

How did she know? She must have eyes in the back of her head. I didn’t think it was possible to blush any more deeply than I already was, but I felt my face burn even hotter. There must be no blood left in the rest of my body. I averted my eyes as I removed my shorts, followed by her panties.

“If you want,” she said as she took her panties from my hand, “we can buy you some of your own.”

“Errr… nah… it’s OK,” I mumbled.

“So Bro,” Ruth said as she handed me a cup of coffee and plonked herself down on the couch next to me, “I didn’t even realise you were seeing someone, yet alone engaged!”

Barbara was out shopping for some things for our new apartment, and I’d decided to visit Ruth. It was our first chance to catch up alone since I’d been back in Manchester.

“It was kind of sudden,” I said. “Barbara had volunteered on a few builds I was co-ordinating in Africa, and we’d dated a few times. After your wedding I went to Oxford to visit her at her family home.”

“It must’ve been some visit,” Ruth observed. “Go on holidays a single man and come back with a fiancé. That’s some souvenir!”

“Not really,” I said, grimacing. “It turns out her parents are very strict Jews, and they don’t like her dating a gentile. I was out one day organising volunteers for the next build, and when I went back to her place she was sitting outside on the porch with some suitcases. Her parents had given her an ultimatum: them or me! She picked me, and they kicked her out.”

Ruth gasped. “That’s awful!”

“I know. How could parents treat their only daughter like that?”

“What did you do?” Ruth asked.

“I went straight inside and said to her father, ‘What’s your problem? I’m halfway there: I’m circumcised!’”

Ruth laughed, despite the seriousness of the situation. I hadn’t meant it as a joke.

“What did you do?” she asked again.

“We went and stayed in a hotel that night, hoping her parents would be more reasonable the next day. When we went back, they refused to see her or talk to her. Then I heard someone say ‘We’re getting married, and I’m going to convert to Judaism’, and I realised it was me!”

“Seriously?!” Ruth exclaimed. “That’s how you proposed?”

“I didn’t know what else to do. She’d left her family for me.”

Ruth sipped at her coffee, not knowing what to say. Eventually she said, “It sounds like a lot of trouble for a few shags.”

“That’s the silly part,” I responded. “We haven’t even fucked. Barbara is a good Jewish girl, and our dates were quite pure and innocent.”

“Good grief Rory,” Ruth said. “I hope you know what you’re getting yourself into!”

* * *

“Since we’re getting married,” Barbara said to me as we were lying in bed, “maybe it’s time to start practising for our wedding night.

I looked up from the book I was reading, and she was blushing. It had taken a lot of effort for her to say that.

“I think we should wait until we’re married,” I replied. “We have to be careful to do everything correctly.” Strictly speaking, we shouldn’t even be sharing the same residence, yet alone the same bed. There was a line I was not comfortable crossing just yet, however.

Laying in bed thinking, I listened to Barbara’s soft gentle snoring and smiled as she drifted off to sleep. Everything about her made me laugh and feel content, but I felt as though something was missing. It wasn’t about Barbara: she’s everything I could hope for in a woman. I enjoyed every moment with her, and I’d be quite happy if things never changed from the way they were now.

There were big changes coming however: marriage, conversion to Judaism, children. Most likely, I wouldn’t be able to go on any more builds in Africa. That was probably the cause of my trepidation: loss of freedom to do the things I care about. All I can hope is that my priorities change, and that the things I care about will be all right here.

“So you’re really into this Matt guy?” I asked Sebastian as we ran around the squash court.