Page 14 of Let Leaves Lay Where They Fall

User bobs faster, Nathan’s cock swells, signaling the eruption coming. He pulls back and lets it flow over his cheek and chin. Rolling his tongue around in the creamy goo and groaning. “Mmm.” Slow licks up the shaft, like it’s a milky treat, melting in the heat. He catches every drip.

His body unfolds. Standing full height and bracing himself with one hand on the Jeep’s roof. Pulling his own long purple tool out of dark sweatpants. He holds it over Nathan’s belly. Fast, aggressive strokes. Throwing his head back. Streams of come shoot across Nathan’s lap in a flash. Soaking into denim and splattered in dark swirling pubes.

“Fucking hot.” Nathan cheers, gleaming down at the mess.

User wipes the wetness from his face with a sleeve before drawing back and sucker punching Nathan in the side of his head.

Stars fill his vision until everything fades dark.

***

Rhythmic chimes from the open-door alert lull him back from the void. His head pounding behind his eyes to the back of his skull. He’s been laid across the center console and leaning into the passenger's seat. The clock on the dash glows 1:21. He hadn’t been out long. “Fuck!”

He pushes himself upright and holds his temples with the heels of both palms. Giving a slow shake to try and stop the spinning space around him. Music is still streaming through his phone, lost under the seats.

The door behind him is wide open. He steps out of the Cherokee. Pushing curls off his aching forehead and placing a hand on the door to push it shut. His backpack had been on the rear seat, and it was gone. “Fuuuck!” He yells. The pain in his head worsened. His hospital ID tags, some candy bars and clothes were in it.

He climbs back into the driver's seat, hauls the door closed and starts the engine. Shifting in drive, he pulls away from the drugstore and starts toward home.

***

Mabel is waiting right in front of the entrance when he gets to the apartment. Her head tilts at the sight of him.

“Hey girl.” Pressing his temple with one hand. He drops his phone and keys on the counter before bending down to pet her cumbersome head. She licks his hand as if sensing his pain. “Let’s get you out to pee.” He gathers her leash and slumps down the stairwell behind her, dragging his tired body against the wall.

They step outside to the empty street. She does her business quickly on the small patch of grass. Then looks up at him, standing in the doorway, expecting a walk.

“Not now hun. We’ll go in the morning. Let’s go to bed.” He’s defeated.

She flops back up the stoop and shoulder checks his leg pushing past. They both trudge up the foyer stairs and lock the unit’s door behind.

Nathan fills her food bowl and replenishes her water supply. She’s more concerned about what's bothering him.

The bed calls and he mopes across the blue floor, belly flopping onto the mattress. Kicking his shoes away and pulling the covers down beneath his drained body. He rolls back onto his side to unbutton his jeans, phone falling out of a pocket, he pushes them off. Slipping out of his shirt. He palms the device and burrows his naked body into the nest. Mabel hops up next to him and curls herself into a big wrinkly boulder.

Nathan taps the dark screen to life and immediately the Gaydr app. User57432 no longer exists. Profile not available. “Fucking prick!” He closes the app and holds a finger over it until a prompt pops up. Do you want to delete this app? He slams yes, without hesitation. “I’m done with this bullshit.”

A fury of sadness falls over him, his eyes well and flow over. Tears stream down his cheek and wet the pillow. The phone slides across the blanket, off the mattress and slams to the floor. The loneliness he pretends doesn’t affect him is suddenly all consuming.

He twists his body to wrap around Mabel, burying wet face in her folds, breathing in her scent until sleep carries them both.

Chapter 8

Sleuth

A few too many rum and diet colas last night, left Jamie with a nagging headache and sour stomach. Forgetting to eat the entire day didn’t help.

He dozed off before consuming the two cheese and cucumber sandwiches he'd drunkenly assembled after getting home. They sat on the bedside table overnight, edges of the bread turned dry and brittle but soggy at the center from soaking up salted cucumber juice.

Noticing his phone isn't on the nightstand, or anywhere within view. He smoothes both hands over the patchwork quilt, searching until fingertips find a familiar shape buried underneath. Lifting the cover overhead, he’s bare ass naked. “Jeezus!” He wheezes. The phone is between his knees. He scoops the device up and flicks it on with the swipe of a thumb.

A dimly lit blurred photo of his own pink dick fills the screen. “What the fuck!” He’s mortified at what his drunken self might have been up to. Discovering milky glazed splotches painting his belly. Tacking blonde hairs to his skin.

The recents in his camera roll are a fuzzy collection of his own dick, ass, legs, chest and even feet, from angles he didn’t know he could maneuver. Drunk Jamie is a regular circus act. He quickly deletes the saucy set of shameful selfies. Gross.

Nothing in the messages clues him in on a receiver but a new conversation thread with GingerBear437 in the Gaydr app recorded the missing pieces.

Ginger’s profile says he is 46, married and in an open relationship. He’s a muscle bear covered in a carpet of cinnamon fur.

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