Sometimes life takes everything from you. Sometimes, it gives you more than you ever dreamed.
I spent most of my twenties like many gay guys do: mostly fucking around. In a medium sized city, within an even smaller gay community, you quickly discover that everyone in the dating pool is only two or three degrees away, so if you go all slutty for a couple years, you basically become everyone’s ex, or their friend’s ex.
In my defense, none of it was ill intended. I was young and dumb and full of cum, as they say. I wasn’t even that hot. I was just easy. And I didn’t want to take anything seriously or get tied down. I know, stupid, but hey, it comes with all that spunky energy.
It lasted until a really good guy came along and suddenly the one night stands or occasional fuck buddy didn’t cut it anymore. Kevin was my everything. And suddenly I was off the market — not because he forbade it or got jealous, but because I suddenly didn’t want to be anywhere else. We had about five years together.
They weren’t perfect years, but they were as close as it gets. We were really good together, and everyone knew it and approved.
And then he got hit by a drunk driver.
*****
I was a wreck for nearly as long after his death as we were together. And though I eventually shook the depression and got my life back, I had all but given up on trying to find anyone after that. Once you’ve had the best, it’s hard to settle, you know? But if I’m honest, I stopped looking.
Time passed and before I knew it, I was staring at 40, and dreading the evening of birthday hijinks my friends had lined up.i hadn’t been out to the clubs in a decade, and they’d decided I needed to go “out with a capital O”. And I said yes, because, well, it had been five years since Kevin. But I was long out of practice and feeling decidedly midlife crisis prone.
*****
“Jeff, I’m telling you, you will have fun and cut loose tonight —even if I have to pour a handle of vodka down your throat with my own two hands!”
“I’m not that pathetic,” I replied.
“Sigh……you’re not an old man for another 36 hours, so enjoy it while you’re young!” Xavier as usual with the drama. A few years younger than me (and annoyingly, looking more like 27 than 37), Xavier still managed to live basically the same lifestyle for 15 years, seemingly without suffering any real consequences. We were convinced he had a painting in the attic.
“He’s right though, you have been a boring old fussbudget,” Ben said. He was usually the more level headed of my posse, but he’d hit forty a few months prior and was determined to live out some very stereotypical midlife crisis moments as he valiantly scrambled to hold on to the memory of not being middle aged.
“I’m not a fussbudget,” I moaned. “Who even says that anymore? Charlie Brown?”
“I’m just saying, Jeff, you don’t look washed up. You’re a catch, man! Still got all your hair, you’re in okay shape, you have a good job, and you have an actual personality! “
“Wow, you suck at flattery.” I said.
The plan was this: we’d go to the club and just drink and dance all night. Catch an Uber back home late, sleep in and do brunch at Maestro’s whenever we woke up on Sunday.
*****
It’s a fact that gay clubs have changed over the years; they’re no longer the same beating heart of gay urban life that they once were. I could say a lot about why that is — but I chalk a lot up to more tolerance generally, and more app options, which means that the younger generation don’t need that space quite so desperately.
Still, a good DJ and a good vibe meant clubs like Danny’s kept the spirit alive (at least until the owners were ready to retire), and pride month meant busines that, at least on that particular Saturday night, was booming. We breezed past the ID check, had a drink or two at the main bar (and another when news of my birthday somehow leaked, thanks to the friendly bartender — we had a little history). Then we were hauled out to the dance floor, full of writhing bodies, music, and booze.
The music was very good and it had been eons, so almost despite myself, I was actually cutting loose. When I came out of my dance trance, Ben and Xavier were over by the bar laughing, and I found myself right next to a very cute twunk.
“Hey sexy! I’m Nicky, what’s your name?”
Big brown eyes are my weakness.
“Uh… Jeff?”
“Well, uh, Jeff,” he purred, “Are you here with anyone?”
“Just friends,” I stammered.
“The two guys over there?”
“Yeah,” I said. The two friends in question were grinning like loons and giving thumbs up signs by the bar.
“Great! That means you’re all mine! If you want to be, I mean,”
I must have looked like a deer in the headlights. It’d been years since I’d been hit on so aggressively.
“Jeff, if it isn’t clear, I’m telling you I think you’re hot, and I think I would like to spend the evening with you. Are you up for that?”
“You know what? Sure. Just one question. Why me, when this place is full of hot young guys.”
He shrugged. “Just a vibe. You’re handsome and you seem nice, and I want see if we click.”
“Fair,” I said.
“This is the part where you tell me I’m cute.”
“You’re adorable.”
*****
Ben and Xavier seemed happy to keep their distance, occasionally meeting my frantic gaze with broad smiles and raised glasses. Meanwhile, I did my best to remember how to flirt and wrestled with the idea that the sexy guy dancing with me was actually into me. Nicky danced tirelessly and enthusiastically, and when he saw my energy flagging, suggested we find a table and grab a fresh drink.
Nicky was partly Greek, and had messy dark hair and flawless olive skin, as well as those big expressive brown eyes. He had the build of a swimmer — big shoulders and a trim midsection — and worked in a lab, presumably as a technician. He was fit but not overly bulky, and he smelled nice. He admitted to 31, and I believed him. He played a little piano for fun, and kept himself fit at the gym near work. I hadn’t seen him around because, well, I didn’t go out.
I, however, was hurtling toward middle age and sported a burgeoning dad bod, thanks to the post-Kevin slump I’d been in. I’d let myself go, but objectively it wasn’t too bad yet. My dark gold blond hair seemed secure enough and I had at least wound up with a moderately stylish haircut. Most folks thought my blue eyes were my best feature. Nicky seemed to like my bit of scruffy stubble (always risky when you’re fair haired). When I showed him an old photo from my clubbing days, he chuckled and told me I made a cute twink, but he preferred handsome over cute.
Two things became clear pretty quickly. One, he was more than just a very pretty face — he was educated and had opinions about things. And two, he was very direct and straightforward, and not just in his flirting.
“I’ve always been like this,” he shrugged amiably. “I see a goal and I go for it. Half the fun is figuring out how to get there!”
I was so engrossed in the conversation that it was a surprise when Ben finally came round, asking if I needed a ride home. The club was closing up soon. I didn’t want the night to end, but I could see my boys — who I’d pretty much ignored — were done for now.
“Why don’t we hit the diner,” I said. And so we all found ourselves crammed into the all-night diner’s back booth, where Nicky charmed them too, well aware he was being assessed. And he didn’t disappoint.
Eventually Nicky got up to pee and my friends pounced.
“Damn, Jeff, you certainly haven’t lost your touch! That boy….damn!” (Xavier, obviously.)
“I’m with him on this one, mostly. He’s a catch. And so, I’m going to drag this reprobate away so you can finally get some action. Just text us about brunch tomorrow morning.”
I was about to protest, but he cut me off. “Dude, that boy wants you. You are clearly having a good time. Just roll with it!”
And so, when Nicky came back from the restroom, he found me alone waiting.
“The boys left you here all alone with me, didn’t they?”
“Yeah. Is that okay?”
“More than okay. Because now I can finally do this,” he said, sliding in next to me and cradling my face with his long fingered hands. “I have wanted to kiss you all night, and I’m going to now, if you’re up for it.”
I nodded stupidly.
*****
You ever have a kiss so good, just the memory of it is enough to give you a boner?
This was one of those. I found myself leaning in and returning it almost immediately, and I knew with long forgotten certainty how the rest of the night would go. We could barely slow down, even after the Uber driver firmly reminded us that he drove his kids around in that car.
Back at my place — which I must emphasize had NOT been tidied in expectation of company — we wasted no time. There were no awkward moments, just a rising tide of psssion that carried us both. (Luckily he had some condoms; mine were old enough to be suspect.)
*****
We were late to brunch, even by gay standards.
“And what time do you call this, young man? It’s WELL past curfew!” Xavier said loudly.
“Be warned, they have bottomless mimosas,” Ben said.
“And topless ones too. I hope those lonely boys find their match,” Xavier said happily, finishing what was obviously not his first glass.
“Better order and get some food into you,” Ben said. “Looks like you’re running a calorie deficit. I wonder why?”
“It’s been a while since I, uh, went dancing all night,” I admitted sheepishly.
“Plus, we fucked for a few hours after we got back to his place,” Nicky said, matter-of-factly. “What’s good here?”
I think my blush was audible. But it was worth it for the look on their faces. Especially Xavier, who inadvertently snorted half a flute of mimosa.
*****
Over brunch we caught up, and watching Nicky effortlessly manage two gossip-starved besties was way too much fun.
And so, assured of their approval, Nicky asked me if I was free anytime that week.
Damn right I was.
And that week turned into several times. In the month or so that followed, we spent most of our free time together, and quite a lot of that was having sex, which was a bit of a shock to my system. I’d always been verse, but he tended to bring out the top in me, which was refreshing. He returned the favor often enough to keep me content. Anyway, at 40, there was only so much of me to go around — two loads was about the most I’d manage before that middle aged refractory period kicked in. But he seemed happy enough, and it was a really lovely change for me after five years of “self care”.
*****
Looking back, there were some signs I overlooked. First was that we always met up at my place; he claimed his place was simply too small for anything other than sleep. The second came later.
About two months into our relationship, Nicky told me he had been assigned a big project and it was going to keep him super busy.
“It’s going to be brutal. I probably won’t see you as much for a while.”
“Well, text me,” I said, kissing him goodbye.
“Bet on it,” he said.
And sure enough, that very night, he texted me. So it was a surprise when I got a text from an unknown number the very next night.
UNKNOWN SENDER: Hey, sexy.
ME: Who is this?
In response I got a half naked photo — of someone I was now intimately familiar with..
ME: what the hell babes
UNKOWN SENDER: sending from my old burner phone. Can’t bring mine in because of the camera. Picked up a burner, so I may text you from this one occasionally.
He never talked too much about work, but I gathered his lab had some IP to protect or some government contract. I was more surprised he had found a burner phone with no camera.
NICKY 2: fuck it, I can’t wait, I’m coming over.
ME: aren’t you still slammed?
NICKY 2: couldn’t wait. Need your dick.
Moments later there he was, waiting at my front door. And ten minutes after that, we were fucking. None of the usual preamble, just right to the sex, and without much chatter. He was being a very bossy bottom, which was kind of fun. I guess he needed stress relief.
“Sorry, I can’t stay longer tonight,” he said.
“The project?”
“Yeah, it’s really demanding. But it doesn’t leave me much mental energy. I’d rather save that for the weekend with you, when I can give you the boyfriend experience you deserve.”
“So basically when I see you during the week, you just want the stress release?”
“Yeah, basically. If you’re okay with it. It also keeps me from blabbing about work and either boring you or saying something I shouldn’t.”
I was okay with it.
*****
And so, on it went for the next few weeks. He’d show up Tuesday and Thursday nights, after dinner, and we would have what I thought of as purely recreational sex with very little else. Then Friday night would come and he was his amazing normal self. And while it was fun, it was also starting to be physically challenging for me.
One Friday night, he showed up ready to go, but I was just wiped out. My own job had been busy all week, too, and Thursday night’s session had left me drained. So when he playfully groped me a little on the couch, I finally snapped.
“Look, I’m sorry, man, I’m just wiped. I am trying my best to keep up with your libido, but I just can’t.”
He looked crestfallen. “Why didn’t you say something earlier?”
“Because it’s pathetic. Even talking about it makes me feel old.”
“No,” he said. “It’s biology and chemistry. And I forget you’ve got a decade on me sometimes. Have you talked to a doctor?”
“No. What the hell do I say? I just had a physical last month and it all checks out fine. I even dropped a few pounds and my stamina is good. I just happened to land a very hot young boyfriend, and I just….”
“Babes, that’s the easiest problem in the world to fix.”
“I don’t have E.D.”
“No, I can attest to that. But if your libido is lagging and your t-counts are fine, unless it’s contraindicated, there are ways to boost your sex drive.”
“I hate oysters,” I replied.
“I think that’s a myth anyway,” he said, pensively. “Look, I never told you what we work on, but one of the things just hit testing, and it might help with the stamina. Provided you hit the gym a bit more, it should give you a nice boost.”
“I don’t know about drug trials,” I said.
“It’s your call, but the buzz is really high right now. The numbers look really good. And unless something is weird in your bloodwork, I bet you’d be a good candidate. Best part is, there is a side effect for about half the users — and it’s increased libido.”
It was tempting.
“I don’t want to push you either way — I won’t get mad if you need a break, I just love fucking you. Especially after the month I’ve had. I like to think our little sessions have been helping both of us. If it is bothering you, though, you may have an option.”
We ended up cuddling that night, and the next, but the seed was planted.
*****
I hemmed and hawed for another few days, but on Tuesday, when he came round, he didn’t even ask for a decision. I figured he was back in work mode and was giving me space, and by then I was up for the full routine. Thursday was much the same, but I think he noticed my flagging energy.
“You should get a trainer and hit the gym, Jeff. Never too late, right?” And I guessed he was right. Even if I didn’t take the trial, a bit of cardio and weights could only improve my health.
Friday I was at the gym, doing an intro class that left me winded and sore…and by Saturday morning, I’d decided to give the trial a go.
*****
I spent most of my twenties like many gay guys do: mostly fucking around. In a medium sized city, within an even smaller gay community, you quickly discover that everyone in the dating pool is only two or three degrees away, so if you go all slutty for a couple years, you basically become everyone’s ex, or their friend’s ex.
In my defense, none of it was ill intended. I was young and dumb and full of cum, as they say. I wasn’t even that hot. I was just easy. And I didn’t want to take anything seriously or get tied down. I know, stupid, but hey, it comes with all that spunky energy.
It lasted until a really good guy came along and suddenly the one night stands or occasional fuck buddy didn’t cut it anymore. Kevin was my everything. And suddenly I was off the market — not because he forbade it or got jealous, but because I suddenly didn’t want to be anywhere else. We had about five years together.
They weren’t perfect years, but they were as close as it gets. We were really good together, and everyone knew it and approved.
And then he got hit by a drunk driver.
*****
I was a wreck for nearly as long after his death as we were together. And though I eventually shook the depression and got my life back, I had all but given up on trying to find anyone after that. Once you’ve had the best, it’s hard to settle, you know? But if I’m honest, I stopped looking.
Time passed and before I knew it, I was staring at 40, and dreading the evening of birthday hijinks my friends had lined up.i hadn’t been out to the clubs in a decade, and they’d decided I needed to go “out with a capital O”. And I said yes, because, well, it had been five years since Kevin. But I was long out of practice and feeling decidedly midlife crisis prone.
*****
“Jeff, I’m telling you, you will have fun and cut loose tonight —even if I have to pour a handle of vodka down your throat with my own two hands!”
“I’m not that pathetic,” I replied.
“Sigh……you’re not an old man for another 36 hours, so enjoy it while you’re young!” Xavier as usual with the drama. A few years younger than me (and annoyingly, looking more like 27 than 37), Xavier still managed to live basically the same lifestyle for 15 years, seemingly without suffering any real consequences. We were convinced he had a painting in the attic.
“He’s right though, you have been a boring old fussbudget,” Ben said. He was usually the more level headed of my posse, but he’d hit forty a few months prior and was determined to live out some very stereotypical midlife crisis moments as he valiantly scrambled to hold on to the memory of not being middle aged.
“I’m not a fussbudget,” I moaned. “Who even says that anymore? Charlie Brown?”
“I’m just saying, Jeff, you don’t look washed up. You’re a catch, man! Still got all your hair, you’re in okay shape, you have a good job, and you have an actual personality! “
“Wow, you suck at flattery.” I said.
The plan was this: we’d go to the club and just drink and dance all night. Catch an Uber back home late, sleep in and do brunch at Maestro’s whenever we woke up on Sunday.
*****
It’s a fact that gay clubs have changed over the years; they’re no longer the same beating heart of gay urban life that they once were. I could say a lot about why that is — but I chalk a lot up to more tolerance generally, and more app options, which means that the younger generation don’t need that space quite so desperately.
Still, a good DJ and a good vibe meant clubs like Danny’s kept the spirit alive (at least until the owners were ready to retire), and pride month meant busines that, at least on that particular Saturday night, was booming. We breezed past the ID check, had a drink or two at the main bar (and another when news of my birthday somehow leaked, thanks to the friendly bartender — we had a little history). Then we were hauled out to the dance floor, full of writhing bodies, music, and booze.
The music was very good and it had been eons, so almost despite myself, I was actually cutting loose. When I came out of my dance trance, Ben and Xavier were over by the bar laughing, and I found myself right next to a very cute twunk.
“Hey sexy! I’m Nicky, what’s your name?”
Big brown eyes are my weakness.
“Uh… Jeff?”
“Well, uh, Jeff,” he purred, “Are you here with anyone?”
“Just friends,” I stammered.
“The two guys over there?”
“Yeah,” I said. The two friends in question were grinning like loons and giving thumbs up signs by the bar.
“Great! That means you’re all mine! If you want to be, I mean,”
I must have looked like a deer in the headlights. It’d been years since I’d been hit on so aggressively.
“Jeff, if it isn’t clear, I’m telling you I think you’re hot, and I think I would like to spend the evening with you. Are you up for that?”
“You know what? Sure. Just one question. Why me, when this place is full of hot young guys.”
He shrugged. “Just a vibe. You’re handsome and you seem nice, and I want see if we click.”
“Fair,” I said.
“This is the part where you tell me I’m cute.”
“You’re adorable.”
*****
Ben and Xavier seemed happy to keep their distance, occasionally meeting my frantic gaze with broad smiles and raised glasses. Meanwhile, I did my best to remember how to flirt and wrestled with the idea that the sexy guy dancing with me was actually into me. Nicky danced tirelessly and enthusiastically, and when he saw my energy flagging, suggested we find a table and grab a fresh drink.
Nicky was partly Greek, and had messy dark hair and flawless olive skin, as well as those big expressive brown eyes. He had the build of a swimmer — big shoulders and a trim midsection — and worked in a lab, presumably as a technician. He was fit but not overly bulky, and he smelled nice. He admitted to 31, and I believed him. He played a little piano for fun, and kept himself fit at the gym near work. I hadn’t seen him around because, well, I didn’t go out.
I, however, was hurtling toward middle age and sported a burgeoning dad bod, thanks to the post-Kevin slump I’d been in. I’d let myself go, but objectively it wasn’t too bad yet. My dark gold blond hair seemed secure enough and I had at least wound up with a moderately stylish haircut. Most folks thought my blue eyes were my best feature. Nicky seemed to like my bit of scruffy stubble (always risky when you’re fair haired). When I showed him an old photo from my clubbing days, he chuckled and told me I made a cute twink, but he preferred handsome over cute.
Two things became clear pretty quickly. One, he was more than just a very pretty face — he was educated and had opinions about things. And two, he was very direct and straightforward, and not just in his flirting.
“I’ve always been like this,” he shrugged amiably. “I see a goal and I go for it. Half the fun is figuring out how to get there!”
I was so engrossed in the conversation that it was a surprise when Ben finally came round, asking if I needed a ride home. The club was closing up soon. I didn’t want the night to end, but I could see my boys — who I’d pretty much ignored — were done for now.
“Why don’t we hit the diner,” I said. And so we all found ourselves crammed into the all-night diner’s back booth, where Nicky charmed them too, well aware he was being assessed. And he didn’t disappoint.
Eventually Nicky got up to pee and my friends pounced.
“Damn, Jeff, you certainly haven’t lost your touch! That boy….damn!” (Xavier, obviously.)
“I’m with him on this one, mostly. He’s a catch. And so, I’m going to drag this reprobate away so you can finally get some action. Just text us about brunch tomorrow morning.”
I was about to protest, but he cut me off. “Dude, that boy wants you. You are clearly having a good time. Just roll with it!”
And so, when Nicky came back from the restroom, he found me alone waiting.
“The boys left you here all alone with me, didn’t they?”
“Yeah. Is that okay?”
“More than okay. Because now I can finally do this,” he said, sliding in next to me and cradling my face with his long fingered hands. “I have wanted to kiss you all night, and I’m going to now, if you’re up for it.”
I nodded stupidly.
*****
You ever have a kiss so good, just the memory of it is enough to give you a boner?
This was one of those. I found myself leaning in and returning it almost immediately, and I knew with long forgotten certainty how the rest of the night would go. We could barely slow down, even after the Uber driver firmly reminded us that he drove his kids around in that car.
Back at my place — which I must emphasize had NOT been tidied in expectation of company — we wasted no time. There were no awkward moments, just a rising tide of psssion that carried us both. (Luckily he had some condoms; mine were old enough to be suspect.)
*****
We were late to brunch, even by gay standards.
“And what time do you call this, young man? It’s WELL past curfew!” Xavier said loudly.
“Be warned, they have bottomless mimosas,” Ben said.
“And topless ones too. I hope those lonely boys find their match,” Xavier said happily, finishing what was obviously not his first glass.
“Better order and get some food into you,” Ben said. “Looks like you’re running a calorie deficit. I wonder why?”
“It’s been a while since I, uh, went dancing all night,” I admitted sheepishly.
“Plus, we fucked for a few hours after we got back to his place,” Nicky said, matter-of-factly. “What’s good here?”
I think my blush was audible. But it was worth it for the look on their faces. Especially Xavier, who inadvertently snorted half a flute of mimosa.
*****
Over brunch we caught up, and watching Nicky effortlessly manage two gossip-starved besties was way too much fun.
And so, assured of their approval, Nicky asked me if I was free anytime that week.
Damn right I was.
And that week turned into several times. In the month or so that followed, we spent most of our free time together, and quite a lot of that was having sex, which was a bit of a shock to my system. I’d always been verse, but he tended to bring out the top in me, which was refreshing. He returned the favor often enough to keep me content. Anyway, at 40, there was only so much of me to go around — two loads was about the most I’d manage before that middle aged refractory period kicked in. But he seemed happy enough, and it was a really lovely change for me after five years of “self care”.
*****
Looking back, there were some signs I overlooked. First was that we always met up at my place; he claimed his place was simply too small for anything other than sleep. The second came later.
About two months into our relationship, Nicky told me he had been assigned a big project and it was going to keep him super busy.
“It’s going to be brutal. I probably won’t see you as much for a while.”
“Well, text me,” I said, kissing him goodbye.
“Bet on it,” he said.
And sure enough, that very night, he texted me. So it was a surprise when I got a text from an unknown number the very next night.
UNKNOWN SENDER: Hey, sexy.
ME: Who is this?
In response I got a half naked photo — of someone I was now intimately familiar with..
ME: what the hell babes
UNKOWN SENDER: sending from my old burner phone. Can’t bring mine in because of the camera. Picked up a burner, so I may text you from this one occasionally.
He never talked too much about work, but I gathered his lab had some IP to protect or some government contract. I was more surprised he had found a burner phone with no camera.
NICKY 2: fuck it, I can’t wait, I’m coming over.
ME: aren’t you still slammed?
NICKY 2: couldn’t wait. Need your dick.
Moments later there he was, waiting at my front door. And ten minutes after that, we were fucking. None of the usual preamble, just right to the sex, and without much chatter. He was being a very bossy bottom, which was kind of fun. I guess he needed stress relief.
“Sorry, I can’t stay longer tonight,” he said.
“The project?”
“Yeah, it’s really demanding. But it doesn’t leave me much mental energy. I’d rather save that for the weekend with you, when I can give you the boyfriend experience you deserve.”
“So basically when I see you during the week, you just want the stress release?”
“Yeah, basically. If you’re okay with it. It also keeps me from blabbing about work and either boring you or saying something I shouldn’t.”
I was okay with it.
*****
And so, on it went for the next few weeks. He’d show up Tuesday and Thursday nights, after dinner, and we would have what I thought of as purely recreational sex with very little else. Then Friday night would come and he was his amazing normal self. And while it was fun, it was also starting to be physically challenging for me.
One Friday night, he showed up ready to go, but I was just wiped out. My own job had been busy all week, too, and Thursday night’s session had left me drained. So when he playfully groped me a little on the couch, I finally snapped.
“Look, I’m sorry, man, I’m just wiped. I am trying my best to keep up with your libido, but I just can’t.”
He looked crestfallen. “Why didn’t you say something earlier?”
“Because it’s pathetic. Even talking about it makes me feel old.”
“No,” he said. “It’s biology and chemistry. And I forget you’ve got a decade on me sometimes. Have you talked to a doctor?”
“No. What the hell do I say? I just had a physical last month and it all checks out fine. I even dropped a few pounds and my stamina is good. I just happened to land a very hot young boyfriend, and I just….”
“Babes, that’s the easiest problem in the world to fix.”
“I don’t have E.D.”
“No, I can attest to that. But if your libido is lagging and your t-counts are fine, unless it’s contraindicated, there are ways to boost your sex drive.”
“I hate oysters,” I replied.
“I think that’s a myth anyway,” he said, pensively. “Look, I never told you what we work on, but one of the things just hit testing, and it might help with the stamina. Provided you hit the gym a bit more, it should give you a nice boost.”
“I don’t know about drug trials,” I said.
“It’s your call, but the buzz is really high right now. The numbers look really good. And unless something is weird in your bloodwork, I bet you’d be a good candidate. Best part is, there is a side effect for about half the users — and it’s increased libido.”
It was tempting.
“I don’t want to push you either way — I won’t get mad if you need a break, I just love fucking you. Especially after the month I’ve had. I like to think our little sessions have been helping both of us. If it is bothering you, though, you may have an option.”
We ended up cuddling that night, and the next, but the seed was planted.
*****
I hemmed and hawed for another few days, but on Tuesday, when he came round, he didn’t even ask for a decision. I figured he was back in work mode and was giving me space, and by then I was up for the full routine. Thursday was much the same, but I think he noticed my flagging energy.
“You should get a trainer and hit the gym, Jeff. Never too late, right?” And I guessed he was right. Even if I didn’t take the trial, a bit of cardio and weights could only improve my health.
Friday I was at the gym, doing an intro class that left me winded and sore…and by Saturday morning, I’d decided to give the trial a go.
*****
