Marriage Material

[Toon]

1994

I had stayed a virgin all through college, but that quickly changed as soon as I graduated. I moved to a city with such a visible gay community that I couldn't help but find my way 'over the rainbow'. It was welcoming, warm and usually smelled like alcohol and cigarettes. Also dangerous. It was the Midwest, and the AIDS epidemic had finally made its way here in a major way. A bath house I'd never even gotten a chance to go to was now closed. Adult bookstores disappeared, but gay bars seemed to multiply. Looking back now, I 'd guess there had been twenty of them located in this mid-sized city It was in one of them that I met Benjamin. He knew everybody and had scored us so many free shots that night. He was Cuban and darkly attractive. He was older than me -- by a lot. He'd lied about his age from the beginning. We parted ways that night after exchanging phone numbers. We fucked the night of our first date. He was experienced and couldn't believe I made him wear a condom. He told me he was clean, but I was insistent about safety. I had a new life and a new career, and didn't want to get deathly sick. 

Benjamin lived farther out from the city...somewhere in a hick-infested neighborhood. Our second date was at his modest house. It seemed nice and decorated like his grandma had picked out all the colors, furniture and little touches here and there. He had a son living with him who was a ridiculously handsome teen (he was actually 22 at the time). Ben claimed he had gotten married at the age of fifteen and I believed him for minute or two. He was a liar and that didn't bode well for us as a couple. He drank gin and tonic, which I'd never tried. It was a fine drink that I grew to love a little too much. This relationship had an expiration date, but I seemed to be the only one who knew it. He introduced me to tons of people...especially at the ratty little tavern near his house. That's where I was introduced to Stan. Stan was Benjamin's hairdresser. He was maybe 30 or a little older. Tall, blonde, lean and a major fashion victim. I hadn't been much interested in what styles trendy. I won't say that Stan was handsome, but there was something appealing about him. He fully owned being gay and I was still learning the ropes. I guess he had a lover and it was news to Ben.

"You finally settled down?! Are you being faithful?"

"Most of the time."

I guess this Stan guy wasn't keeping up with the news. Being afraid of AIDS was a full-time preoccupation for me.

"Does he know?" 

"Oh yeah. He has boys on the side too. It's how we both got the same diseases." THAT's what his appeal was. He was out there enjoying sex and satisfying his inner slut. Nobody lives forever and he was going to get full use of his youth while I was biding my time with Benjamin and being scared of all the consequences of 'having fun'. Stan flitted away among the sparse crowd while Ben and I played darts. For whatever reason, darts were a big thing among the gays in this city. They had leagues and everything. I didn't get it. It was not that much fun to play even when you'd had some drinks in you. But it was a better option than just sitting and trying to have a conversation with my boyfriend. We had almost nothing in common other than being gay. 

"So he cuts your hair?"

"Every month. He's very, very good, but a little expensive. You should let him cut your hair." It drove Ben crazy that I gave no shits about my hair. I normally went to Super Cuts and paid six bucks. It's not like I had a complicated head of hair or anything. 

"OK. I'll go the next time you go." I surprised both of us by agreeing to go spend forty bucks on a haircut. It seemed to put him in a good mood. He scheduled us for back-to-back appointments with him a week later. I agreed mainly because I wanted to see Stan again. Why? I think you can guess.

The salon was much nicer than what I was used to. It even had a 'skin care technician' who wore a white lab coat. Half of the hairdressers there were gay dudes. Ben went first while I sat and looked at one of those big fashion magazines with thick,glossy paper and about fifty cologne samples. The thing was 60% advertising and every page made me feel more and more like the hayseed I was.  I didn't belong here. My clothes were mostly from J.C. Penney's and the last person to cut my hair was a homely pregnant chick with a ton of regrettable tattoos and no wedding ring. 

When it was finally my turn, Benjamin and Stan came out to get me just as I had started thinking of ways to escape. "Ready?"

"Let's go." I was led back to the shampoo area which Super Cuts didn't have. Stan said, "Relax and let Janet take care of you while I take a smoke break." Janet was a beautiful young gal who was gentle as she steadied my head at the lip of the sink. The shampoo smelled expensive and she took her time lathering and rinsing. It was wonderful to be pampered like this and I was wishing she'd never stop massaging my scalp. But Stan was back and ready for me. He was dressed very fashionably - with more than a hint of gay slut. Where do you even get clothes like that? 

"What are you wanting today?"

"Something basic. I work in a pretty conservative place and don't want to upset anybody."

"I can do conservative -- with an edge. You OK with that?" Was I? I had no idea. I remember being 9 or ten years old and telling my mom that I wanted to be a punk rocker when I grew up. Or a chef. I was undecided at that point. I just nodded and prepared for whatever. 

I kinda hated facing that big mirror they have at every hair-cutting place. My natural expression had developed into a frown over the years. Sometimes it looked like a scowl. I watched Stan as he maneuvered around me with his comb and scissors. I thought about what he looked like naked, got lost in some fantasies where I was sucking his dick.

"How's your boyfriend?"

"What? Who?"

"When we met a few weeks ago you told Benjamin and I about this guy you were with."

"Oh, right. Him. We broke up already. He needed money so he volunteered for a clinical medication study and it fucked him up."

"Medication for what?" I could have guessed, but would they really test an AIDS drug here?

"H.I.V. There's promising stuff coming  - maybe even a cure. He was willing to take a chance that he wouldn't get the placebo. He got his wish, but it damn near killed him. The pills fucked with his heart and he ended up in the hospital. He might still be there for all I know."

"I'm sorry." 

"How are things with you and Ben?"

"The same."

"That didn't sound very enthusiastic." He had a grin that the devil himself would be proud of. 

"No. It's just that he wants me to move in with him, and we've only been dating for a few months." I said too much. He and Benjamin were friends and he'd likely tell on me. I couldn't exactly backtrack now. 

"He's the marrying type. I never have been. I suppose it would be nice, but I've got a wandering eye...always looking for the next fuck."

"Yeah. At least you know what your path is. I'm new. I'm 24 and want to see what's out there before I commit." Again...too much info.

"Well don't settle down with him. He's a nice guy but very needy. He's old, too."

"He's not. He's only 34, right?"

"Yeah...if that's code for '45'. He's only three years older than me." I knew it.

"..."

"He does this all the time. He lies about his age and tries to get cute young guys with a job to move in and help him pay the mortgage on that dumpy house. He might have a good heart, but he is not to be trusted. You're a kid -- go have some fun." He looked into my mirror eyes and winked.

"..." I just had no words.

"Leave me your phone number and I'll fix you up with some guys around your age." Well, at least I had some dirt on him in case he ever tried to rat me out to Ben. I sensed he wouldn't. I wrote my number on a slip of random paper while he briefly lifted the scissors away from my head. When he was done blow-drying me and applying gel, I thought I looked great. I had a little 'edge' as he'd promised...but it was within my comfort zone. 

"Perfect!"

It was maybe a week later that I finally let go of Benjamin. I retreated back to my apartment in the city and let my answering machine screen all incoming calls. He finally gave up and was probably out scouting for another sucker this very minute. I didn't go right out and enjoy a bunch of sex which I'd planned to do. I was happy being alone and isolated. Books, movies and music were more important to me than bars and dicks. Stan had never called me, and so I went back to Super Cuts which did a good enough job for me. Things were going great for months. And then the phone rang.

"Hello?"

"What's up?" The voice was familiar somehow.

"Hi! How are things?" I still wasn't sure who I was talking to.

"Oh, it's been a total mess. I'm not at the salon anymore...it got way too dramatic there." It was Stan. OK. "My mama died and left me her house. I work from there now. The only clients that followed me here were a bunch of old ladies who always liked me for whatever reason. They've been dropping like flies since Christmas and I'm trying to build up a bigger client base." That's why he was calling. He didn't want to do anything gay with me. He wanted a paying customer.

"Did Benjamin follow you too?"

"Oh...you didn't know? He moved to Florida with some new guy he found." Good for him. I never wished him harm - I only wished I hadn't wasted so much time with him. 

"I'll give you a deep discount on your first visit." That sounded sexual. I guess he knew he had his charms.

"OK. I had a haircut not long ago, but I'll drop by in a month. How's that?"

"Good. I work noon to six every day except Monday. I've got another side business going so just call and leave me a message when you want an appointment." He gave me his address and phone number which I put on my fridge with a little round magnet. I was glad he called but can't say exactly why. I was going through a phase where I liked bigger, beefier, harrier men. I talked to a few of them at bars now and then but never made a connection. If they didn't have lady voices, they had awful grammar -- which was something that bugged the shit out of me. My ideal was impossible to find, but I still had hands and a VCR...so I was fine with being celibate and single. 

I remember my older brother telling me all about sex. He was a big jock stud who always had a girlfriend. He was pissed that Mom had found one of his adult magazines in my room. She wanted to know where I got it, and I just told the truth. We were both in trouble. "You're not old enough for this, dude. Cool it. You've got the rest of your life to have sex. Look around...every adult likes to fuck. Mom and Dad do it, your teachers do it, every adult you see at the grocery store does it. Guys AND girls. Don't get ahead of yourself now."

Stan's house was in a very odd neighborhood I'd never been to before. The houses looked fairly normal when I turned left on 65th Terrace but then you started seeing weird dwellings. Tiny houses painted in garish colors. Some of them looked like they were meant to be something else in another part of town. I found Stan's address and pulled into the driveway. Wow. I guess his new side business was 'junk dealer'. The front of the house looked like a duplicate of Fred Sanford's place. The yard was full of hubcaps, assorted car parts and panes of glass. Everything was coated with layers of dirt and/or rust. It wasn't sad so much as interesting. My dad once took me to a junkyard just because I'd never seen one. I was fascinated to the point where I was rendered completely mute. Dad let me wander around and look at all the wrecked cars, old appliances and all the various pieces of someone's discarded life. My favorite thing was an actual staircase from somebody's house. It was just there, leading to nowhere. I'd been told not to touch anything, but I couldn't help but climb a few steps. If we had this in the backyard, I could invent about a million games and fantasies built around the stairs. I lived almost totally in fantasy world back then. Dad found me and was mad when he saw me on it. He hustled me back to his car and I never found out what that staircase led to. 

As soon as I knocked on the door (doorbell was broken) about a thousand barks erupted from inside. Dogs. Junkyard dogs, probably.

"Come on in," Stan called from inside. The door was unlocked. The second I got in, five or six little mutts of various colors jumped all over my legs. "Have a seat while I finish with Margaret."

There weren't many places to sit. Just one spot on the couch. The minute I took a seat, all those little dogs competed for my attention. One of them smelled pretty bad and needed a bath in the worst way. I could see him in the kitchen, drying the hair of some ancient woman who had her eyes closed like she was dead. I didn't to stare. The coffee table in front of me was littered with ashtrays, cords, remote controls and random things. There was an ancient paperback book that looked intriguing. "Alfred Hitchcock Presents - Short Story Collection". It was autographed!! I wanted this. I'd have him add it to my bill.

A horn honked from outside that set the dogs off again. "Oh, that's my cab," the old woman said. She was alive. 

"Let me just give you some spray and then I'll help you out."

Stan helped Margaret to the door and told the dogs to stay back. I'm guessing they knew already not to hassle old ladies. He closed the door and said, "Goddamn. I'm tired. You're my last appointment, but I need a little rest first." He plopped down on the couch next to me. There wasn't much room so he was sitting so close to me that our legs and shoulders touched. "I need a cigarette. Want one?" I didn't even answer before he'd already lit one and handed it to me. I guess smoking was a lot like drinking...people liked it better when they weren't the only ones doing it. 

"So. Are you in the...'antique' business now?"

"Sort of...I mostly do flea markets these days. I've done them in Iowa, Nebraska, Kansas...nearby states." He had a Southern drawl even though he was from Missouri. Was that considered 'The South'? Maybe he'd just adopted that accent to seduce men. Or maybe he was like me and had done everything possible to masculine enough to pass scrutiny from friends and family. "It ain't so bad. It's my main income now."

Ugh. I hate when people say 'ain't'. I've walked away from potential hook-ups at bars if they used that word. Stan seemed to have adopted a more casual fashion sense. He was wearing sweatpants, flip-flops, a t-shirt and a backwards baseball cap. I guess he was off his fashion game for whatever reason. "I was looking at this Alfred Hitchcock book. Can I buy it from you?"

"Oh yeah. Shit. I don't even remember where I got that -- from a yard sale probably."

"How much?"

"Three bucks."

"Sold!" 

"We'll settle up later. Let's go to the kitchen and get started now." We both stubbed out our smokes and stood up. I watched him walk in front of me and noticed he'd put on some weight since the last time I saw him. The sweatpants shaped his butt nicely and it was easy to see that he wasn't wearing underwear. Margaret may not have noticed, but I sure as hell did. I thought he was looked hotter in casual clothes than he did all spiffy and fashionable. He'd even stopped dying his hair and you could see that it was actually dark brown with a patch of gray here and there. His kitchen was chaos, but not filthy. He sat me down and shampooed me over a little mini-sink. During the process, his groin brushed my arm for a brief second. I felt the chunk of meat under his sweats. Damn! I was impressed. At this point, I wasn't thinking he had done it on purpose. 

Once he put a towel around my neck and draped me with one of those smock things, I could look right at him in the mirror without giving myself away. He'd was heftier and had some definition in his chest. "Have you been working out?" Find me one gay man who doesn't love being asked that question.

"Naw. I just get more physical activity in the new business. You know...lifting, loading.... unloading." I was almost ready to think he was flirting a little. Almost. Hmm. I'd test the waters.

"Well, you look very fit."

"Thanks. How do you want it? I don't remember how I did it back when I first cut your hair."

"Conservative with an edge."

"Oh right. Gotcha."

I sometimes like to just close my eyes when I'm having a haircut, possibly snooze. Not today. I wanted to watch him and look. His crotch touched my shoulder and the back of my neck a few more times. I could swear his dick was growing each time, but his eyes gave nothing away. Stan was concentrating on the job at hand. I didn't want to push it just now while he was using scissors on my hair. He had to be doing it purpose, right? Maybe he was just trying to get a bigger tip out of me. I'd fell for that scam with bartenders before.  Well...if that was the case, I'd go ahead and flirt back.

"You seeing anyone, Stan?"

"Not so much. I keep busy and just feel so old when I go to the clubs. They're all kids like you, and they don't want some old junk man."

"I bet that's not true. I'm not even thirty yet and they look like children to me too."

"Well, have fun while you can. You need to get as much cock as you can while guys still want to offer you one." He seemed like he was almost done with the scissors. So I adjusted myself back in the chair so that his groin was right up against the back of my head. He was fully erect. I could feel it. Once again, his eyes gave nothing away. I'd have to work for this. He was putting some mousse on my hair and combing it. When his crotch touched my hand, I just reached and grabbed the head of his dick through the sweatpants. I had notched up the flirting to a new level. Risking everything.

"Well, FINALLY! You could have done that while we were sitting on the couch, but no....you made me do most of the work."

I continued to hold his hard-on. "I didn't know for sure. I tend to hesitate with things." 

"I guess it's wise to be careful. I never was. Oh yeah. Squeeze that dick exactly like you're doing." I did. I made an attempt to tug down his pants. "Wait a minute while I sweep up the hair and feed the dogs. My bedroom is right off to the left of that doorway. It's kind of a mess, but there's a TV in there and you can switch it to whatever you want." 

I went into the dark room where the TV was already on. The room was indeed a mess, but at least the bed was made. It smelled like cigarette smoke and cologne. I had to give Stan some credit, though. I'd gone home with a few guys who lived in crap-hole apartments but their bedrooms were always neat and the lights were low and strategically placed. This told me they'd already planned to bring somebody over for sex. One dude had even left an unattended scented candle burning. Stan wasn't planning this...at least I don't think he was. I took off my shoes and and clicked through the channels. I wondered if he had booze in the house. A gin and tonic would be so good right now. The bed was so comfortable that I closed my eyes for a few seconds, a few minutes.

"Hey! Don't go to sleep on me!" He was back.

"Sorry. I worked all day and usually take naps on Fridays. It's kind of a ritual." He was carrying two full glasses with translucent red liquid and ice cubes in them. 

"I made us some drinks. I need one. How 'bout you?" I was polite and didn't ask what the drinks were. I'd settle for anything. Was it paranoid of me to choose the one he didn't hold closest to me? I had heard tales (from girls mostly) about being drugged with pills mixed into their alcohol. Stan didn't even notice my awkward maneuvering. He just stood there, smiling and looking so hot. He kicked off his flip-flops and lied down next to me. We were propped up against the headboard in an almost sitting position. I liked the drink. It was quite potent and had cranberry juice in it...that's all I knew. "It's so nice to rest. I'm tired of working."

Maybe that was code for 'you take over the seduction now'. Who knows? I moved closer and we rubbed shoulders. I looked down at his body. His feet were boxy - with all the toes being the same length. My brother had feet like that and shoes never quite fit him right. His boner was relentless and making a tent out of his sweatpants. OK. I just reached over and grasped it like I did before. I took another swallow of the cranberry courage and the set the glass down. I pulled down the sweats to his lower thighs as his dick bounced up and took pleasure in its new freedom. 

"WOW!  You've got a massive penis, Stan. I mean, Wow."

He laughed. "You're surprised? I wear size 14 EEE shoes after all. My ass is nice too. I bet 90 percent of this city's gays have had a taste of either or both. You can suck my cock, but not until you get naked. Deal?" Oh he had a deal alright.  I stripped in record time, but I still wasn't as fast as he was. I took one last swig of the drink and just jumped into bed next to him. I wasn't new to this kind of thing, but I'd never been so close to a naked POZ man before...that I knew of. 

"OK, Stan. I'm nervous and not very forward. Tell me what you want and I'll do it. "

"OK, kid. There's safe stuff we can do, some mostly safe stuff we can do, and a lot of completely unsafe things we can do. I just now remembered Benjamin telling me about how you were a 'Condom Nazi'. There's none of them here unless you brought some with you. I want your mouth on my dick -- which is mostly safe. I haven't been blown in about a year...would you do that? Please?" He knew he didn't have to ask. I slid off the bed and went to the end of the bed. I crept up between his legs and took the tool in my mouth. It was clean, slick and throbbing. I felt his heartbeat through the wide shaft. It wasn't my first time at the rodeo -- I could deep throat a dick pretty well after my time with Ben. Stan was bigger than my ex, but not in an impossible way. He grunted with pleasure and I didn't hardly gag as I went all the way down to his pubes. "NICE!!"

He adjusted both of us so that he was sitting on my chest and mounting my face. He was experienced and polite enough to let me come up for air briefly. He pulled his dick out from my lips without moving from my chest. I saw the glistening organ bobbing above me. 

"Thank you, Stan. I enjoyed that."

"Me too. I can just finish off all over your face or I can fuck you. It gets more dangerous from here on."

"Let's keep going. Please?"

"So glad you said that. I'll pull out. okay?"

"No. I don't want you to do that. Be an animal with me."

"Nope. I know you feel that way right this second, but I don't want you to get AIDS. I'd never forgive myself, and you'd hate me in time." He was serious. 

"OK."

"You'll thank me eventually." I doubted that, but I was so hard and horny that I just agreed.

"I don't have any lube except some hand lotion. It's pretty greasy, though." It was the same brand my mom had always used to get rid of her raw, dishpan hands. I waited while he slathered it all over his tool and then smeared a glob on my hole. I'd always loved this part of the sex ritual...the pre-gaming. So much anticipation and lust. I waited for the ride to begin. He pushed into me with not much resistance on my part. It hurt, but I knew better sensations were coming. So to speak. He let out a huge breath as he went in an inch or two. "So tight! Try to loosen up a little."

I felt tidal waves of pleasure crash over me. My contentment must have relaxed those inner muscles enough for Stan to get his bare dick all the way inside of me. To the hilt. 

"I'm so full of you."

"Yeah.. it's really, really good. I'm going to pump a little and pull out pretty soon."

"OK"

He thrust like a madman and I felt a drop of sweat from his forehead fall onto my face. His pace and his grunting let me know he was close to cumming. I loved looking at his face as he was lost in pleasure, but I was lost in a memory/fantasy of climbing that junkyard staircase and reaching the top. Here was open sky that I knew would hold me if I dared move further.

He grunted and his hip movements got faster. "SHIT...I..have to stop now." I reached around and held his bare ass close. He was strong enough to break away from my grip but made no effort. He moaned and unloaded that load of semen directly inside of me. "FUCKKKK!!!" He collapsed on top of me. I'd also cum at some point. He breathed heavily and rolled onto his back. "You wanted HIV? I mean...why did..."

"It was perfect, Stan. Don't make me feel bad about this."

"OK. Let's just rest a bit. I need to go piss first." After he returned, he pulled the comforter over us. I had an intensely satisfy nap. When I woke up, I saw that it was after midnight. Maybe it was a good time for me to leave and go home. I dressed in the sparse light and pulled out my wallet. I'd leave him cash for the haircut and the book..plus a generous tip. I left the money next to his scissors and walked to the door. All the little mutts were sleeping in any clear spot on the couch they could find. I drove back to my apartment and couldn't believe how the day had gone. There was plenty to think about, but not now. Not tonight.

Stan called me the next day, and almost every day after that. We went to dinner about twice a week or to movies or just up more sex. He may have claimed he wasn't marriage material, but he certainly seemed to be boyfriend material. I had no idea what kind of material I was made out of now...it was brand new.