My Big Fat Gay Life (23 page)

For the next half hour, Ryan pounded me. He was good - very good. I enjoyed every moment of it, and I let it show. We always made sure that, no matter what position we were in, we were angled so that Donovan had a clear view of everything.

“Soon Darling,” I said to Donovan between thrusts and pants, “you’ll be able to join us.” I was bent over the bed, and Ryan was pounding me from behind. I stretched my neck up and kissed Donovan.

Eventually, after several orgasms, I couldn’t take anymore. I lay next to Donovan on the bed, panting.

“That was certainly different,” Ryan said as he dressed. “I liked it!”

“Then we’ll have to do it again some time,” I told him. I stood up and put on my clothes. As I unlocked the door, I handed Ryan £400. “I figure that you pounded me 394 times, but keep the change!”

Ryan laughed, and waved as he left. I sat back down on Donovan’s bed and held his hand.

“I hope you enjoyed that, my Darling,” I said to him. “I certainly did, but it would’ve been much more fun if you were involved.”

Just then, there was a knock on the door and it opened. Sebastian walked in. I must look a fright! My face feels flush, and I’m still sweaty from the sex. My panties were on the bed, so I covertly covered them with my hand and bundled them into a ball.

After greeting Sebastian, I went to the bathroom to freshen up.

* * *

After Matt found us in the cafeteria and told us that Donovan had stumbled in the shower, I rushed back to his room. His face had a large red welt on his right cheek. I rushed over and kissed it.

“You poor bugger,” I said. “Does that feel better?”

Donovan’s eyes flicked to the left. I followed his gaze, but there was nothing to see.

“Your new nurse, Matt, seems like a nice kid,” I observed.

Donovan’s eyes flicked to the right.

Justin and I made our way to our apartment, giggling and laughing the whole way. Our honeymoon had been fantastic, but it was good to be home. Although our moods were quite happy and joyous, we were a little apprehensive. On our honeymoon, we’d done a home pregnancy test. It was positive. After the bitter disappointment of the last pregnancy, we were torn between elation and wariness.

Justin put the key in the lock and opened the door. I was shocked to see two people inside our apartment, seated on the sofa.

“Hi Sis!” Rory said. He leapt up and came over to hug me. “I’d like to introduce you to Barbara, my fiancé!”

We came inside and put down our suitcases. Barbara was standing back, looking shy and uncertain. I walked over and shook her hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” I said. Her eyes widened as Justin removed his clothes.

“Don’t worry about Justin,” Rory said to her, “he does that all the time.”

After all the introductions were made, Rory rushed off into the kitchen to make us a cup of tea.

“We’ve been here a few days,” he called out from the kitchen. “I hope you don’t mind. We’re moving back to Manchester and needed somewhere to stay until we found a place of our own.”

“Of course I don’t mind!” I replied. “Stay as long as you like. I’m thrilled to have my little brother back!”

Barbara had barely spoken. She kept looking slyly at Justin’s naked body, her gaze wandering down to his cock. Of course, Justin was totally unselfconscious and didn’t even register her glances.

Rory brought the cups of tea into the lounge room, and we sat there for hours. Rory told us of his experiences in Africa. We told him about our honeymoon. Barbara told us how they met and how Rory had proposed. It was all very romantic and sweet. I didn’t think he had it in him!

“We only need to sleep on the sofa tonight, and then we’re outa here,” Rory said. “We move into our own place tomorrow.”

People often say they feel trapped. Trapped in a loveless marriage. Trapped in a dead-end job. I feel trapped inside a useless body. I can’t move a muscle. I can’t speak. I can’t write. I can’t even blink!

Patricia and Sebastian come to see me every day, and I am so grateful for that! They speak to me, and because I can’t answer they say far more than they would ever have before I had a stroke.

Sebastian went through the entire grieving process at my bedside. Once, he cried so hard that after he’d left, the nurse thought my catheter had burst. I was glad to see Sebastian dealing with things and moving on. I was also glad to hear that Bruce had been caught and retained indefinitely in a psychiatric facility.

Dear sweet Patricia is always reading to me, mostly from the psychiatric journals that I love but she hates to read. Today, however, her entertainment reached a whole new level.

I watched, fascinated, as that hunky escort Ryan pounded her relentlessly. She certainly knows my type, and knows what I like to see. I vowed that one day soon I would be well enough to join them. If I could have, I would have laughed out loud when Sebastian arrived. If he’d come a few minutes earlier he would have found his parents in a compromising position, but not the usual one that children find their parents in. I wondered how he would have reacted.

Matt arrived to bathe me, and he flirted with Sebastian. Good! Sebastian needed the boost to his self-esteem. Matt shooed them out of the room, then turned to me.

“OK old dude,” he said. “Let’s get you bathed.”

Matt lifted me to a seated position so he could lift me into the shower chair, but my arm lolled about and knocked over a glass of water.

“Fuck!” Matt exclaimed. He raised his right hand over his left shoulder, then struck me, hard, with the back of his hand across my right cheek. It hurt, and tears sprung to my eyes.

“You stupid old man,” Matt said between clenched teeth. “How careless of you to stumble in the shower like that.”

* * *

After Matt had gone, Patricia returned. She kissed my sore cheek and asked if it felt better. I moved my eyes to the left. For several days now I’d been trying to train her – trying to make her realise that left meant ‘yes’ and right meant ‘no’.

“Your new nurse, Matt, seems like a nice kid,” she said. I moved my eyes to the right.

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