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Date: Wed, 27 Nov 2024 18:48:58 +0000
From: Casual Wanderer <casualwandererniftystories@gmail.com>
Subject: SEAGULL'S BAY | CHAPTER 2

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Chapter Two
"What Does That Say About Me?"

Nicholas stirred from the realm of dreams, his senses subtly reviving to
the gentle symphony of waves rhythmically kissing the shore. The
seagull's cries pierced the stillness, signaling the beginning of what
promised to be another day veiled in a monotonous routine.

His gaze drifted to the worn-out nightstand clock marking 6:30 a.m. The
early morning hour was kept by silence, broken only by Elizabeth's
rhythmic breaths. She lay in peaceful slumber beside him, her body still
bearing the evidence of their passionate fuck from the previous night.

Moving with deliberate care so as not to disrupt his wife's tranquility,
Nicholas slipped out from beneath the warmth of their shared covers. He
padded barefoot across the cool wooden floor and headed to the kitchen.

He started the familiar ritual of preparing coffee. The act was almost
meditative for him, a soothing routine that imparted a semblance of
normalcy. As he waited for the coffee maker to work its magic, he felt a
slight sense of comfort wash over him.

With a steaming cup in hand, Nicholas claimed a seat at the counter,
positioning himself to face a large window that framed an uninterrupted
view of the coast. The sight held a serene beauty, momentarily stalling
the restlessness that had taken root within him. However, as he savored
the taste of his coffee, his thoughts veered towards Marcus.

The image of the young waiter etched itself in his mind: those
penetrating dark eyes that seemed to hold a world of secrets, the
effortlessness with which he moved, and that enigmatic smile. Nicholas
felt an unfamiliar longing, an unsettling and intriguing sensation. His
sexuality was something he had never felt the need to question before.
His life with Elizabeth had always appeared to be his destined path. But
these new feelings challenged this belief, prompting him to challenge his
thoughts.

To clear his mind, Nicholas decided to go for a run. He dressed in his
jogging attire, secured his sneakers, and, with a last glance at the
sleeping wife, departed their small beach house. The morning greeted him
with a brittle kiss as he began his run along the sandy stretch of the
beach.

Seagull's Bay was slowly rousing from its slumber. Nestled between the
rolling green hills on one side and the infinite expanse of the ocean on
the other, it was a town where time seemed to have paused. The frantic
pace of modern life felt like a distant memory here. Quaint houses
painted in pastels lined its streets, each with unique charm, while the
scent of freshly mowed grass tangled with the salty sea breeze.

Nicholas followed the shoreline, eventually reaching the quiet harbor,
where fishing boats bobbed idly on the water, their vibrant shades faded
by the relentless sun and sea.

He then pivoted onto the cobblestone of Main Street, the pulsating heart
of Seagull's Bay. The road was lined with an eclectic mix of shops and
cafés, each one embodying the town's unique character. The old-fashioned
general store stood out prominently. A few doors down, a bakery, with its
intoxicating scent of fresh bread and pastries wafting out into the
street, luring in passersby with its irresistible charm.

On the other side of the street, a quaint bookstore sat nestled between
two larger buildings. Its window display was a charmingly chaotic mess of
books stacked haphazardly. Further down, a gallery showcased an array of
paintings and sculptures, the raw talent of local residents whose names
would likely never grace the pages of renowned art journals. He continued
his run, his feet pounding against the uneven ground. He passed the town
square, a small but well-maintained park adorned with a grand marble
fountain at its center and shaded by ancient oak trees that had stood
sentry for centuries.

On the far edge of the town square stood a lighthouse, its whitewashed
walls gleaming under the morning sun. A former beacon of safety that
stood tall and proud against the backdrop of the azure ocean. As he
rounded a corner, the familiar sight of the beach appeared. His morning
run had brought him full circle. He slowed, then paused momentarily,
stretching his muscles and allowing himself to catch his breath.

He had cleared his mind somewhat, but thoughts of Marcus still lingered,
a tune that echoed in the back of his mind that he couldn't quite shake
off. Each time the image of the young man touching himself surfaced,
Nicholas felt a stirring within him, his hard-on noticeable despite his
best efforts to suppress it.

He began walking back towards the beach house, where life was slowly
stirring awake. Elizabeth was already up and about in the kitchen, her
hair pulled back into a loose ponytail. Meanwhile, Brandon and Jett were
still confined within their rooms, likely catching a few more hours of
sleep. Nicholas greeted Elizabeth with a peck on the cheek and poured
himself another cup of strong black coffee.

"How was your run?" Elizabeth asked, her eyes filled with genuine
interest.

"Good," Nicholas replied, forcing a smile onto his face. Elizabeth
returned his smile, her relief palpable.

"I'm glad. Maybe this was a good idea after all," she replied, her light
and casual voice deviating from their usual interactions.

Sweat trickled down Nicholas' forehead as they sat at the kitchen
counter. Despite the mundane normality of their routine, Nicholas found
his thoughts drifting back to Marcus.

"So...about last night," Elizabeth began, her voice breaking through
Nicholas' train of salacious thoughts. "What happened?" She asked, a
curious gleam in her eyes. Nicholas returned her smile.

"I made you cum. Twice," he stated, his voice devoid of emotion as he
sipped his coffee.

Beth's optimism was endearing. Nicholas could see it shimmering in her
eyes, and he knew she had every reason to feel this way. Their late-night
and somewhat unexpected sex seemed to have set them on a slightly better
path, the shared pleasure easing their tension. However, Nicholas's mind
was far more entertained by thoughts of the raven-haired adonis. Thoughts
that refused to quieten.

Their morning chat was abruptly interrupted by Brandon's arrival. The
young man trudged into the kitchen, every line of his body radiating an
air of sullen discontent. At eighteen, Brandon was a vessel brimming with
potential, yet his strained relationship with his father cast a heavy
shadow over his youthful features. Nicholas felt his heart wrench
painfully as he watched his son navigate the room, each gesture weighted
down with barely concealed annoyance.

"Good morning to you, too," Nicholas tried to keep his tone light and
upbeat as he greeted his son, but Brandon barely glanced at him.

"Right," the boy mumbled in response before grabbing a piece of toast and
slumping heavily into a chair.

Nicholas found himself hankering the days when Brandon was just a boy,
eager to spend time together, looking up at him with eyes filled with
respect and admiration. But the pressures of work and life had gradually
eroded that bond until all that was left was this chasm of silence and
resentment. The consequence of his unhappiness had taken precedence over
his family, and now he was facing the consequences.

"Why don't we grab breakfast at that diner before we hit the beach?" Beth
suggested, sensing the tension between father and son and trying to
diffuse it. Jett, who had just entered the room in his swim trunks,
bounced around excitedly.

"I want pancakes!" the young boy declared, his infectious enthusiasm
bringing a smile to Nicholas' face.

They gathered their belongings and made their way to Moe's Diner. As soon
as they stepped inside, his eyes scanned the interior, searching for
Marcus. His gaze flitted from one table to another, but there was no sign
of the young waiter. Instead, they were greeted by another server, a
young woman about Marcus' age, who approached them with a warm smile.

"Morning, folks. Grab a seat anywhere you like. I'll be with ya' in a
minute," she said, her friendly demeanor doing nothing to ease Nicholas'
growing frustration at Marcus' absence.

"Nicholas?" Beth called out to him, her arm wrapped protectively around
Jett's shoulder.

"I'll be right there. Bathroom..." he mumbled in response before heading
towards the restroom. He pushed open the door and slid into one of the
stalls, quickly unzipping his pants. As he released his bladder, he let
his head fall back against the wall, sighing deeply as he stared up at
the moldy restroom ceiling. "Where the fuck are you?" he murmured under
his breath before flushing and washing his hands.

Exiting the restroom and walking past the diner's main counter, he
noticed a police officer sitting on one of the stools. The man was
ruggedly handsome, with a strong jawline, thick beard, and dark-brown
eyes that seemed to pierce through anyone he looked at. His athletic
physique was well-maintained, and the five o'clock shadow on his face
added to his rough-and-tumble appearance. Despite his intimidating
figure, the man looked remarkably young, no older than twenty-five.
Nicholas found himself discreetly studying the officer, his mind noting
the man's hyper-masculine demeanor and cocky attitude.

"I fucking 'hate' this time of the year," the strikingly handsome cop,
whose nametag read "Ledger," mumbled with a sense of deep-rooted
annoyance. His words were barely audible as they escaped his lips and
floated across the counter towards the older man on the other side.

"Bad for your line of work, Ledger, but oh so good for mine," the man
quipped back with a playful twinkle in his eyes that seemed out of place
given the gruff exterior he otherwise presented. He was polishing the
counter with an old rag, his hands moving rhythmically in circles. "Stop
behaving like a grumpy old man, will you? That's my job," he added, his
tone light and filled with teasing humor.

"All these tourists flocking here, parading around as if they own the
place," the young cop lamented, his voice tinged with a resentment sharp
enough to cut through glass.

"Well, we do rely on their wallets," the older man reasoned, his voice
carrying an underlying note of practicality that clashed with Ledger's
emotional outburst. At this point, Nicholas decided to gracefully slide
into the conversation.

"Morning," he greeted, his voice mellow yet confident enough to compel
the two men to turn their attention towards him. The older man looked
mortified, a sudden fear flashing in his eyes that Nicholas might have
overheard his comment. Conversely, Ledger studied Nicholas from head to
toe as if he were a bothersome insect that needed immediate
extermination.

"Hey there, champ," the older man replied with forced excitement. "Can I
help you?" he asked, trying to regain control over the situation.

"Yeah," Nicholas responded, leaning over the counter and deliberately
lowering his voice to a whisper. "Is Marcus around?" his question hung in
the air like a delicate secret, causing the two men to exchange a quick,
tense glance.

"It's his day off," the man replied, intrigued by Nicholas' unexpected
inquiry. "Why? Was there something wrong with your service yesterday?"
His voice dripped with curiosity as he probed further. Nicholas stumbled,
his mind racing to concoct a plausible excuse.

"Oh, no. Not at all. I just...forgot to tip him," Nicholas managed to
say, his gaze shifting towards Ledger, whose eyes seemed to be
magnetically drawn towards him.

"You can leave it here. I'll make sure he gets it," the owner offered,
tapping the tip jar before him.

"That's okay. I'll just come back another time," Nicholas countered,
pulling back slightly as if to physically distance himself from the
situation. As he did so, Ledger let out a chuckle laced with derision.

"I wouldn't tip that one," he muttered. "Fucking faggot..." he groaned
almost inaudibly. Nicholas glanced at Ledger, struggling to control his
emotions and not react to his blatantly offensive comment.

"There, there, Officer Ledger...we don't want our esteemed customers to
think we don't take good care of our staff here, do we?" the owner
interjected, attempting to rein in Ledger's volatile temperament.
Nicholas felt a sudden jolt of revulsion in his gut, his chest
constricting with disgust.

"Yeah. Sure," Ledger grumbled, forcing a smile that barely reached his
eyes. "I need to get back to work anyway," he announced before flashing a
grin that reeked of hostility. He stood up and strolled out the door with
an air of arrogance. Nicholas' gaze followed him to the parking lot,
where another cop was waiting for him in a patrol vehicle. They stood
there for a while, conversing and occasionally throwing glances towards
the diner, specifically at Nicholas, before finally getting into their
car and driving away.

"Sorry about that," Moe, the owner, apologized. "Most of these guys have
known each other since they were kids. It's just...boys being boys, you
know?" he tried to downplay the incident, his tone casual. Nicholas
responded with a cordial smile.

"Thank you," he said before returning to his table where Beth and the
boys were waiting.

As he resumed his seat, a wave of frustration and disappointment washed
over him. A sense of anticipation he hadn't fully acknowledged had been
slowly building, only to be abruptly crushed. He couldn't understand why
Marcus's absence affected him so profoundly. Beth and Jett were engrossed
in their menus, oblivious to his inner turmoil. However, Brandon was
watching him closely, his keen eyes noticing the slight slump in his
father's shoulders and the way his gaze drifted towards the entrance as
if hoping someone might still come through the door.

"What's up with you?" Brandon queried. His brow was lightly furrowed, the
corners of his mouth pulled into a slight pout as he studied Nicholas's
face for any telltale signs of deception. Caught off guard by the sudden
question, Nicholas found his gaze involuntarily flicking toward the
ground before he managed to rein in his surprise. He quickly plastered a
smile onto his face, the corners of his eyes crinkling in an attempt to
sell the lie.

"Nothing," he responded, deliberately vague, an elusive evasion of
Brandon's probing question. His eyes were wide and innocent as they met
Brandon's, but the faint lines of worry etching his forehead betrayed
him.

Brandon, for all his intuition and insight, didn't seem entirely
convinced by Nicholas's denial. However, he let the matter drop, perhaps
sensing that it wasn't a line of conversation Nicholas was willing to
pursue. He replied with a simple nod, his lips pressed into a thin line
as he turned his attention back to their surroundings. Meanwhile,
Nicholas released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, trying
to shake off the uneasy feeling that had settled over him.

As they ordered their food and waited, Nicholas focused on engaging with
his family. He made small talk about mundane matters, joking with Jett
about their plans for the day. Yet, even as he laughed and chatted, the
thoughts of Marcus lingered at the back of his mind. They were obsessive
thoughts, emotions that danced on the edge of longing and confusion.

As they finally went to the beach, Nicholas scuffled with his thoughts.
He felt frustrated by his inability to connect with Brandon and
disarrayed by his inexplicable feelings for Marcus. These feelings seemed
just out of reach, like trying to grasp smoke. His life, which had once
seemed simple and straightforward, now felt complicated and convoluted.

A golden sheen covered the vast expanse of sand that stretched as far as
the eye could see. But that morning's pleasant mood on the beach did
little to calm Nicholas's tumultuous mind. He found a suitable spot,
setting up a small base camp where Jett promptly began the construction
of an intricate sandcastle. Beth spread her towel and settled down with a
book, her face relaxed in an expression of rare leisure. Brandon, ever
the aloof one, made his way towards the shoreline, his hands shoved deep
into his armpits.

Nicholas wanted to focus and enjoy the beach day with his family, but
Marcus kept barging in. The image of him walking naked out of the ocean,
water droplets clinging onto his bare skin, his dark eyes filled with
mysteries yet untold, and those lips, those mystifying lips that held an
allure Nicholas couldn't resist, was an attraction so overpowering it
left him reeling. Throughout the day, Nicholas's obsession grew. He
repeated their brief conversations in his mind, analyzing every word and
gesture. He had never felt this way about anyone, let alone another man.

As the day wore on, he found it increasingly difficult to engage with his
family. He watched Jett's sandcastle construction with half-hearted
enthusiasm and responded to Beth's attempts at conversation with
distracted nods.

In the early hours of the afternoon, a friendly couple set up camp
nearby. The woman greeted, her voice carrying easily over the noise. Her
bright smile was infectious as she approached them, initiating
conversation.

"Hi!" she exclaimed, her hand raised in a cheerful wave. "You're new,"
she commented, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. Beth returned her smile
and waved back.

"Yes. It's our first year here," Beth replied, putting down her book to
give the woman her full attention. "I'm Beth. Beth Bowman," she
introduced herself, extending her hand towards the woman.

"Jodie Marshall," the woman replied, shaking Beth's hand firmly. "This is
my husband, Tom," she added, gesturing towards the man behind her. They
were around the same age as Nicholas and Elizabeth, and their laid-back
demeanor instantly put the family at ease.

Jodie was a vivacious redhead with a warm smile that lit up her face. She
was strikingly beautiful, with an air of elegance accentuated by her
high-end fashion sense. Her husband, Tom, was ruggedly handsome, with
blonde hair peppered with silver that gave him a preeminent look. His
piercing blue eyes were mesmerizing, especially as they glistened under
the sun. Like Nicholas, he seemed fit and in shape for his age, with an
athletic build gained through obvious regular exercise. He wore a pair of
brightly colored flower print shorts, which Nicholas immediately assumed
were Jodie's doing.

"We have two boys. They're...somewhere," Jodie added with a playful roll
of her eyes, glancing around the beach before waving towards the shore
where two teenage young boys stood not far from where Brandon was
playing.

"This is my husband, Nicholas," Beth introduced, gesturing to Nicholas,
who had quietly observed the exchange.

"Hey, man," Tom greeted, stepping forward to shake Nicholas' hand with an
enthusiasm that suggested relief at having another male presence around.

"So, how have you been enjoying Seagull's Bay?" Jodie questioned, her
tone suggesting genuine interest.

"Oh, it's lovely," Beth responded. She was slightly irked by Jodie's posh
demeanor but hid it well behind a polite smile.

"I know, right? Just try not to mention it to anyone," Jodie laughed.
"The first time we came here was about seven years ago, and this town was
a dream. Not a soul around. Now, every year, there are more and more
people. Soon, we won't be able to stretch our towels," she added with a
hint of condescension that didn't escape Nicholas's notice.

As the families mingled, Nicholas found himself inexplicably drawn to
Tom. Something about his easygoing demeanor, the way his eyes crinkled
when he laughed, stirred a sense of familiarity. He sauntered over,
navigating through the maze of stretched towels towards Tom. They started
talking, meandering from mundane daily affairs to deeper territories. It
wasn't long before they discovered a shared sense of feeling overwhelmed
by the demands of family life, a burden they both carried in silence.

Tom had this uncanny way of articulating the struggles that Nicholas had
always kept bottled up inside, as if he had an intuitive understanding of
Nicholas's recent predicament.

"Sometimes, I miss those days when I could just get home from work and
jerk off to porn in the living room, you know?" Tom disclosed, sipping
his water bottle with an air of nonchalance. "No responsibilities, no
expectations, and no fucking explanations," he confessed. His words hung
heavy in the air as Nicholas nodded in understanding.

"Yeah, I hear you...But, you know...married life has its advantages,"
Nicholas countered, his eyes glancing at little Jett, who tapped his
sandcastle with his plastic shovel.

"Right..." Tom mumbled, sounding unconvinced by Nicholas's argument. He
clapped him on the shoulder good-naturedly. "Good to know I'm not the
only one feeling this way," he added with a wink at Nicholas, who
chuckled in response.

Their conversation flowed effortlessly, like a steady stream navigating
through a rocky path, and Nicholas felt a sense of camaraderie with Tom
that he hadn't felt in a long time. It was refreshing to talk to someone
who understood his frustrations without judgment, without the need for
pretense or validation. The two men eventually decided to meet for
drinks, eager to continue their discussion in a more relaxed setting.

Back at the house, as the family prepared for dinner, Nicholas' thoughts
swirled with anticipation and anxiety about his meeting with Tom. He
wondered if the drinks wouldn't provide the perfect opportunity for a
much-needed distraction.

Around 9 p.m., as Nicholas lay in bed, the sounds of the ocean drifting
through the window, that sense of restlessness returned. Despite Beth's
advances, he had neglected to fuck her that evening. The truth was, his
mind was only in one thing. Marcus. And soon, his hand was slowly skating
down, grabbing his stiff cock, stroking it gently enough not to wake
Beth, who slept right next to him. Less than a minute had gone by when
Nicholas sighed in frustration. Not even jerking off, which had been his
source of comfort for years, seemed to help quell his burning thoughts.
He rolled to the side, annoyed, his eyes gaping restless.

Later that evening, the clock read just past 11:30 p.m., but sleep still
seemed a far-off prospect. He glanced over at Elizabeth, who was already
deep into her sleep, her chest rising and falling steadily. With a sigh,
he slipped out of bed, careful not to disturb her, and headed to the
living room. Desperate for a distraction and perhaps some light repartee,
he decided to call Tom. After all, the guy had mentioned that he was
always up for a drink and a chat, no matter how late. And it turned out
he was serious. Tom answered on the second ring.

"Hey, Nicholas! Everything alright?" Tom greeted, his voice quite awake
for that time of hour.

"Yeah, I just...thought maybe we could grab that drink we talked about,"
Nicholas replied, trying to sound casual. Tom chuckled.

"Say no more. I know a great little bar by the harbor called The Rusty
Anchor. Meet you there in fifteen?" Tom proposed.

"Perfect," Nicholas agreed, feeling a rush of relief.

The Rusty Anchor, nestled in a quiet corner of Seagull's Bay, was an
unpretentious watering hole where time seemed to stand still. Its
weather-beaten wooden exterior bore the scars of countless storms. The
bar's interior was shrouded in a mellow light that danced on the walls
adorned with kitschy nautical memorabilia. A ship's wheel here, a fishing
net there, it was almost too cliche for Nicholas's taste.

The bar brimmed with a motley crowd of locals and out-of-towners, each
engrossed in their own world of banter and booze, oblivious to the rest.
Tom was already there, perched on a stool at a corner table, nursing an
empty pint of beer.

"Two more, gorgeous," he commanded the waitress with a flirtatious grin
before returning to Nicholas. "I had a feeling you'd call," he remarked
nonchalantly. Nicholas frowned at his friend's presumptuousness as he
slid into the seat opposite him.

"Is it that obvious?" Nicholas retorted defensively before sinking into
the chair, spreading his legs wide in an unconscious display of
masculinity. "Anyway, thanks for coming," he added, softening his tone.

Tom lifted his glass in a mock toast. "To new friendships and escaping
reality," he declared with a wry smile. His eyes darted around the room,
scanning the women sauntering past their table.

They clinked glasses, and Nicholas took a deep gulp of his beer. The
crisp bitterness of the brew was refreshing against his parched throat.
The conversation started off light, beach escapades, family anecdotes,
and the quaint charm of Seagull's Bay. But as the night wore on and the
alcohol flowed, their banter took a more severe turn. Tom's usually
jovial demeanor gradually gave way to a more contemplative mood.

"You know," he began, swirling the remnants of his beer in the glass, "I
think we men compromise too much. We trade our desires for
responsibilities and passions for stability. Bit by bit, we lose
ourselves." Nicholas nodded in silent agreement, his own inner turmoil
resonating with Tom's words.

"Yeah," Nicholas finally found his voice, though it was barely above a
whisper. He could feel Tom's gaze probing, encouraging him to bare his
soul. And so, he did. "I've been feeling lost...like I don't know who I
am or what I want anymore," he confessed.

Tom's response was a knowing nod. "It's tough, man. Society expects us to
be strong, reliable, and devoted. But deep down, we yearn for freedom,
adventure, something more," he confided.

Nicholas found solace in Tom's words. Here was someone who understood his
inner conflict and didn't dismiss his feelings as mere whimsy. He took
another sip of his beer, feeling a warmth spread through him that wasn't
entirely due to the alcohol.

"Can I tell you something?" Tom leaned in closer, lowering his voice to a
near-whisper. His eyes darted around the room nervously.

"Sure," Nicholas replied cautiously.

"I've fucked around...been seeing someone," Tom said. The confession hung
in the air between them like an uninvited guest. Yet, instead of feeling
judgmental, Nicholas was intrigued and oddly drawn to the revelation.

"An affair?" Nicholas echoed, his voice barely above a whisper.

Tom nodded. "Yeah. It's been on and off for a few years now," he
admitted.

Nicholas leaned back in his chair. "How do you...?" He left the question
hanging.

Tom shrugged nonchalantly. "You manage," he replied cryptically. "It's
not just about the sex...which is fucking great, I can tell you that.
It's the thrill, the excitement that comes with it. I felt like I was
sleepwalking through life until this...thing happened," he added, the
twinkle in his eye betraying a hint of mischief.

Nicholas took another sip of his beer. "Doesn't it complicate things?" he
asked.

"Of course it does," Tom admitted readily. "But it also makes me feel
alive, like there's still a part of me that hasn't been domesticated," he
continued, his voice gaining strength.

Nicholas felt a chill run down his spine at Tom's words. The idea of
being untamed, of finding an outlet for his hidden desires, struck a
chord. He thought of Marcus and his inexplicable attraction towards the
enigmatic young man.

"But what about your wife?" Nicholas asked softly, almost afraid to voice
his thoughts aloud. "How do you reconcile...?"

Tom sighed heavily. A shadow flitted across his face momentarily before
he composed himself. "I love Jodie. But there are parts of me she doesn't
understand or even know exist," he confessed.

"Don't you feel guilty?" Nicholas ventured further, afraid of crossing a
line but unable to stop himself. "I mean...not just about the cheating
but...that there's a part of you Jodie doesn't know about?"

"No marriage survives the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the
truth," Tom whispered, words thrown like silent rapiers. "I'm a sinner,
so help me God," he razzed, lifting his hands in the air playfully.
Nicholas stared into his beer, the amber liquid reflecting his troubled
thoughts. He felt a deep kinship with Tom, a sense of solidarity in their
shared disorder and lustful appetite. But he also felt a growing sense of
unease. Was this the path he wanted to take? Was this the kind of freedom
he craved? "And you know what the best part is?" Tom whispered again,
pulling Nicholas's attention back to him.

"What?" Nicholas mumbled, still grappling with his thoughts.

"I get to have sex whenever I want," Tom replied, grinning. "Have you
ever fucked an ass before, Nicholas?" he asked, his words catching
Nicholas off guard.

"No..." he stuttered, propelling an almost sadistic grin on Tom's face.

"Man, it's heaven. No matter how big your dick is, it'll slide all the
way in, no problem," he described, his phrasing playfully unscrupulous.
His words were coarse and vulgar and aroused Nicholas immensely. "And
man," Tom gossiped, leaning into the table, his eyes sparkling. "It never
gets loose. It's always tight," he described. "The first time I tried it,
I could barely last a couple of seconds," he admitted, leaning back as he
chuckled. Nicholas stared at him, mouth slightly dropped, his cock
hardening under the table.

"Jesus Christ, Tom..." Nicholas replied, trying to cage a smile that
desperately struggled to escape. As much as he felt Tom's conversation
was too much, a part of him was actually enjoying it. His spirit being
seduced by his friend's classless behavior.

The night wore on, and the bar began to empty. Tom and Nicholas continued
to talk, their conversation meandering through the complexities of life,
human nature, and the search for personal satisfaction. Tom left The
Rusty Anchor with a parting clap on the shoulder and a reminder of their
next drink date. Nicholas lingered there, his mind still buzzing by their
exchange. He ordered another beer. The last thing he could think of was
driving back to the house and lying on that bed beside Beth.

Sitting alone at the bar, Nicholas felt a profound sense of
dissatisfaction. His life, once filled with youthful dreams and boundless
potential, had become a series of monotonous routines and unfulfilled
desires. The demands of work and the responsibilities of being a husband
and father had slowly eroded the sense of adventure and excitement he
once cherished. Sure, he loved Beth, but their relationship had settled
into a comfortable, predictable rhythm. Schedules and obligations had
replaced the passion and spontaneity of their early years. Even their
recent attempts to rekindle their intimacy felt forced, as if they were
trying to revive something that had long since withered away. And
Nicholas couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt that the only time he
felt good about fucking his wife's pussy was by thinking about Marcus. He
knew Elizabeth was trying, but his heart yearned for something, and not
even Nicholas knew what it was yet.

Then there was Brandon. His son's aloofness and resentment were constant
reminders of Nicholas' failures as a father. He regretted the missed
opportunities to connect, the moments he neglected while buried in work
or yielded in his thoughts. He wanted to bridge the gap and find a way
back, but he needed to figure out where to start.

And, of course, there was Marcus. The young waiter had awakened something
in him, a spark he hadn't felt in years. It wasn't just physical
attraction, though there was no denying that, but a more profound,
unsettling affinity.

As he sat nursing his beer, the bar gradually emptied. The bartender
wiped down the counters, and the remaining patrons trickled off into the
night. Nicholas finally paid his tab and stepped out into the cool night
air, the sound of the ocean a distant murmur. He got into his car,
intending to return to the house, but found himself driving aimlessly
through the quiet Bay streets instead. Nicholas' mind wandered back to
the dark-eyed waiter, the pull he felt growing stronger with each passing
moment. That's when he realized he had done nothing but think about
Marcus the entire day. It was as if the absence of someone Nicholas
barely knew was unexpectedly unbearable to him. How could this be
happening, he thought?

Suddenly, something caught his eye just as he was about to return to the
house. Near a somberly lit parking lot, the same one where they had met
the night before, he saw Marcus, sitting in the passenger seat of a car,
the window on his side slightly lowered. Another figure was with him
inside the vehicle, and the two appeared to be arguing. Nicholas slowed
down, his curiosity aroused. He pulled over a short distance away,
watching as the argument escalated. Marcus's body language was tense and
defensive, while the person in the car grew increasingly aggressive.
Suddenly, it turned violent. The driver lunged at Marcus, striking him
hard and pushing his head violently against the window glass. Marcus
staggered back, but the assailant continued the assault, landing several
more blows. Nicholas' heart raced. He jumped out of his car and ran
towards the scene without thinking.

"Hey...hey, stop!" he shouted, but the attacker didn't hear him. Marcus
managed to break free, stumbling out of the car and away from the
vehicle, blood trickling from a cut on his lip. Seeing Nicholas approach,
the mysterious person quickly jumped the car, speeding off before
Nicholas could see who it was. "Are you okay?" Nicholas asked, rushing to
Marcus' side. The boy nodded, wincing as he touched his swollen lip.

"I'm fine'" the dark-eyed beauty frowned, pulling back. Nicholas' concern
deepened as he noticed the bruises on Marcus's face.

"Who the fuck was that? Do you need to go to the hospital?" Nicholas
questioned, his eyes scouring the boy's battered face. Marcus shook his
head.

"No hospital. I'll be alright," Marcus replied, lost, his profound, dark
gaze wandering around the parking lot. Nicholas felt a surge of
protectiveness flowing over him.

"Come on, let me at least take you home," Nicholas suggested.

After a moment's hesitation, Marcus nodded. "Fine. Thanks," the boy
replied.

Nicholas carefully assisted Marcus into his car. The silence felt almost
palpable for the first few moments, each lost thought swirling between
them. Nicholas's mind buzzed with questions he dared not voice, focusing
solely on ensuring Marcus reached home safely. As the tension began to
feel suffocating, Nicholas broke the quiet, his voice cutting through the
stillness.

"So, are you going to tell me who that was?" he finally asked, unable to
contain his curiosity any longer. Marcus sighed, his eyes dark a mixture
of pain and resignation.

"It's a long story," the boy replied elusively. Nicholas glanced at him,
startled by how charming Marcus was, even with a battered face and under
the poorest lighting ever. The young man's raw vulnerability was both
endearing and utterly dangerous. He nodded, not wanting to press too
hard.

"Fine. We don't have to talk about it," Nicholas said softly. Marcus
looked at him, a hint of gratitude in his eyes.

For the first time in a long while, Nicholas felt like he was doing
something that mattered and went beyond the routine and the mundane.
Marcus' presence, even in such distressing circumstances, had reignited a
sense of purpose within him. Nicholas's mind raced, but he could see the
dread in Marcus' eyes. He didn't want to push too hard and risk shutting
him down completely. Instead, he focused on driving.

They arrived at Marcus's house, that modest shack on a quiet street at
the edge of town. The exterior was neat but unremarkable, and the place
blended into its surroundings. Nicholas parked the car and turned to
Marcus, who was already reaching for the door handle.

"Let me help you inside," Nicholas said, not waiting for a response as he
exited the car and moved to Marcus' side.

The boy didn't protest, looking too weary to argue as Nicholas helped him
to the door. Once inside, they walked to a tiny living room adjacent to
the small kitchen, tastefully decorated with photographs, illustrations,
and a stack of books on the coffee table.

"Sit here," Nicholas instructed gently, helping Marcus onto the couch.
"I'll get the first aid kit," he said, pulling off his jacket and tossing
it over one of the stools under the kitchen table. Marcus nodded, briefly
closing his eyes as he leaned back against the cushions. Nicholas quickly
found the bathroom and located a small first aid kit under the sink. He
returned to the living room and knelt beside the couch, carefully opening
the kit. "This might sting a bit," Nicholas said softly, dabbing
antiseptic on a cotton pad and gently pressing it against the cut on
Marcus' lip. The boy flinched slightly but didn't pull away.

"Fuck, that hurts," he murmured, eyes meeting Nicholas' with a mixture of
gratitude and something more profound. "Thanks..." the boy muttered
reluctantly.

"It's the least I can do," Nicholas replied, his voice steady. As he
continued to tend to Marcus' injuries, he felt an almost magnetic pull
between them, an unspoken connection that seemed to grow stronger by the
second. Each stroke of the alcohol-soaked cotton escorted a glance, a
moment where their eyes would meet, allowing a rush of desire to creep
inside, taking hold of Nicholas' senses.

What the fuck was going on, he thought? It was almost as if the most
potent spell stemmed from the boy's eyes. So overwhelming that Nicholas
had to focus to keep his hand from shaking. When he finished, Nicholas
sat back, his hands lingering momentarily on Marcus' knees.

"There, that should help a bit," he said calmly.

"You're good at this," Marcus stated softly.

"I have a five-year-old, remember?" Nicholas quipped, causing Marcus to
chuckle softly. The boy darted at him, his eyes softening.

"Marcus, I know it's none of my business, but...you should consider
reporting this to the police," Nicholas urged, his voice filled with
concern.

"You're right. It's none of your business," Marcus fired, his defenses
growing.

"No one should get away with doing that to you," Nicholas pressed,
glancing over at Marcus' injured face.

But the boy said nothing. He just sat there.

Nicholas felt his heart race as he gazed into Marcus' eyes. The world
outside seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of them in this small,
quiet room. Without thinking, Nicholas leaned in, his breath hitching as
he closed the distance between them. Marcus' eyes squinted slightly, but
he didn't pull away. Instead, he tilted his head, his lips parting in
anticipation.

The kiss was soft at first, tentative and gentle, a hesitant exploration
of new territory. But as their lips met deeper, a surge of emotion
crashed over Nicholas, a powerful wave that swept him up. He felt the
metallic taste of Marcus' blood in his mouth, and the boy's hands came up
to rest on his shoulders, pulling him closer and deepening the kiss,
their tongues slowly drilling into each other's mouths, lacing gently. It
was intoxicating, addictive, as if everything he had been searching for,
everything he had been missing, was right there.

When they finally pulled apart, both men were breathless, their foreheads
resting together as they tried to regain their composure. Nicholas opened
his eyes, meeting Marcus' gaze, and saw a reflection of his tumultuous
emotions mirrored there.

"I'm sorry," Nicholas whispered, his voice raw with emotion. "I...I
shouldn't have done that," he stuttered, voice filled with angst. Marcus
smiled.

"Why?" the boy moaned, his chin still lowered, mouth opened, and lips
dangling there, hoping for Nicholas to kiss them again.

"I'm married...I have a wife," Nicholas stammered. I shouldn't be
here..." he stumbled. "I mean...what does that say about me?" he
questioned, almost to himself. There was a slight pause before the boy's
voice broke from under the silence.

"You know what's the first thing I noticed about you?" Marcus whispered,
his alluring breath spewing into Nicholas's face, taunting his repressed
urge. "How quiet you were," he moaned, taking his tongue and slowly
licking Nicholas' lips. He could smell the boy's breath and feel the
moisture of his spit coating his mouth.

"Jesus Christ..." Nicholas groaned, his forehead rubbing against the
boy's. Every fiber of his being endeavored to resist his impulses.

"The quiet ones are always the wildest," the boy whispered, a soft,
almost sadistic giggle fleeing his mouth.

Nicholas paused, Marcus' unexpected remark pulling him out of his stupor,
a small measure of clarity amid the confusion. The boy's words were
improper, twisted, insidious. Yet they mirrored with disarming accuracy
the truth that had lingered inside Nicholas his entire life. Maybe he was
wild, insane even, enough to be here, kissing a young man he knew nothing
about while his wife and two children waited at home. He needed to get
out and fast.

"I should go," Nicholas said reluctantly, his body jolting up, legs
rushing for the door. He sprinted down the porch steps and dashed for the
car, grabbing the keys from his pocket.

Nicholas drove away from the house and that haunting kiss. His mind ran
wildly, trying to understand what had just happened, and he soon lost
track of time. He must have circled the block to the beach house several
times because what was initially a ten-minute ride back had turned into
forty. And to make matters worse, as he neared his home, a sudden jolt of
realization hit him.

He had left his coat back at Marcus' place.

"Fuck, fuck, FUCK!" Nicholas yelled inside the car. With a grunting sigh,
he made a U-turn and headed back towards Marcus' house.

Minutes later, Nicholas instantly noticed something strange as he
approached the house. Different voices were coming from inside, slightly
muffled. He slowly exited the car, tiptoeing to the entrance door and
peering into the kitchen window. Immediately, he glimpsed several dark
blue pieces of clothing strewn about the kitchen floor. They were police
uniforms. A sense of dread settled in his stomach as he cautiously
approached the door, stopping instantly.

Inside, a naked man came into the kitchen. Muscular body, toned, brown
hair, thick beard, sweating profusely as his 10-inch cock dangled, fully
erect between his legs. Breathing heavily, he sauntered to the fridge and
opened the door, the light flaring from inside, coating his glistening
physique. From upstairs, the most grueling moans and wails could be
heard.

"Keep that fucking bitch moaning!" the muscular cop hollered, chuckling
as he pulled a beer out. He racked it open and chugged the bottle down
its throat, tossing it on the sink as he exhaled profusely. "Fucking
cunt...wears me out every time," he mumbled, loud enough that Nicholas
could recognize his voice. Suddenly, a sharp moan broke from upstairs.
"Hey, Dawson, take it easy! We still have four hours till the next
shift," he warned, his legs fumbling slightly as he walked back up the
stairs. Nicholas' eyes shivered in shock.

It was him, the cop from the diner.

He stood there, knowing full well his only sane option was to forget the
coat and just get the fuck out of dodge. But a strange trance suddenly
possessed his body, taking hold of it. Seconds later, against his better
judgment, Nicholas was climbing the pipe up the side of the house and
crawling inside the small balcony next to Marcus' room window. He slid
inside the aged structure, his face shrinking at the screeching noises
the old wood made as he stepped on it. But he soon realized the loud
music coming from inside muffled everything around. Nicholas took a deep
breath and peeked through the window.

Marcus' naked body lay on his stomach over the bed, his head squashed
inside a pillow. Over him was another guy with striking blonde hair and
piercing green eyes. His smooth, muscular build spoke of discipline and
strength, both approachable and imposing. His massive figure hovered over
the boy's body as he pounded his ass viciously, the clapping sounds
overpowering the loud music. By then, Ledger had walked inside the room.
Loud moans filled the air with such force that, even with the window
closed, they spewed from inside with ravenous intensity, filling
Nicholas' ears. Ledger paced around the bed, a sadistic smirk on his
face, and let his body fall over a small couch at the foot of it,
watching his buddy's ass bounce on top of Marcus, whose whimpers and
wails only seemed to entice Nicholas's merciless pounding even more.

"Mother fucker, I'm gonna come!" Dawson announced, his blonde head
snapping back, mouth opened, ass cheeks clenching as he started to unload
inside Marcus' hole. After a few seconds of twitching, Dawson pulled out,
his huge 8-inch thick cock sliding out, soaked and dripping in cum, which
also skated out of Marcus' pucker profusely. The boy's body shivered, his
legs recoiling. Dawson slapped Marcus' smooth, bubble butt playfully
before pulling up and turning to Ledger. "That's my second load, fuck...I
need a breather. Your turn," he stated, nudging his head and signaling
his friend to take his place on the bed. The thick-bearded cop smiled,
jumping up like a kid on Christmas morning.

"Wait," Ledger said, punching Dawson's chest. Then, he took his hand and
clutched it around his friend's cock, amassing all the viscous cum and
lubing his own cock with it. He crawled into the bed and slid his massive
dick inside Marcus unceremoniously, causing the boy to gasp. "No matter
how many horny bitches come through this fucking town every year..." the
cop groaned, his cock grinding into Marcus' insides. "You're still the
best pussy around, Marcus..." he stammered, his motions becoming more
robust, speedy. He let his body fall over Marcus, his sweat-covered hairy
chest merging with the boy's smooth back, lips grazing Marcus' ear.
"You'll always be the best pussy I've ever had," the cop whispered, his
eyes scouring Dawson, who was now distracted lighting a joint.
"Hey...look at me when I'm talking to you," he ordered, finally plucking
Marcus' hidden face from under the pillow, his fingers clutching the
boy's beautiful raven hair.

On the other side of the glass, Nicholas' eyes shivered in shock at the
sight of Marcus' countenance. It was raw, sexual, and blissfully
relinquished to the brutal nature of what was happening. His expression
wasn't just of someone willing to let it happen. But of someone
unabashedly relishing what was happening.

"Stop talking and fuck me...you piece of shit," Marcus moaned with a
sadistic smirk on his lips.

"Open your mouth," Ledger ordered. As soon as the boy did, he leaned down
and spit into it, splattering the boy's face, rubbing his saliva all over
Marcus' skin as he roared with delight, his smooth body being shoved
violently against the mattress.

Stunned and appalled, Nicholas crawled through the creaky wooden balcony
and let his body slide along the wall, trying to find a better angle of
the boy's face as he peered inside the glass. Despite his conflicting
feelings about Marcus at that moment, seeing him being used like that was
unearthing feelings he feared even thinking about. The carnal act taking
place was a violent hail, battering against Nicholas' senses and leaving
him breathless in its wake. His body trembled with desire and adrenaline
as he crouched in the darkness, unable to tear his eyes away from the
savage display happening inside. Nicholas was slowly being consumed by
its intensity, his mind and body overwhelmed by the raw energy emanating
from the scene unfolding inside that room, causing his cock to bulge
inside his pants like it had never before.

And festering inside Nicholas, like an insidious presence, the most
overwhelmingly eliciting and sodomist thought raged.

That it should be him inside that room. Enjoying Marcus' hole.

(To be continued...)