Page 2 of Gym Bros
Even Marcus has to be in the mood for me. He’s based in LA, and while I’m not his only client in San Francisco, I’m clearly the one he came to see this weekend since this is the second morning in a row he’s woken up here. Not that I’m complaining. He’s the only action I get these days since I stopped seeing Isaac—my last semi-serious situation.
Isaac only lasted a handful of months. He was my type, but, sadly, I wasn’t his. He required more attention, and I required life without a leash, metaphorically speaking. Though I wouldn’t put it past Isaac to try and leash a lover.
What can I say? I’m not for everyone. Men have to be in the mood for me. I’m a mood fuck. Every boy’s dream. “Was that the problem last night?” I ask Marcus.
His brows pull together into a full scowl. “What do you mean? What problem?”
“It took you a minute is all…more than a minute.”
He takes his hand off my leg and sits straighter. “Excuse me?”
“I’m only asking if you’re stressed,” I say.
“No. You’re asking if something’s wrong with my cock when you’re the one who didn’t come.”
“I—” My mouth closes in a pout.
I thought I faked it better than that.
“Iwas exerting self-control waiting onyou,” he says. “What’s your excuse?”
Maybe he’s right to be worried about me. I haven’t put it into so many words yet, but I may beslightlydepressed. My erection lasted all of five minutes last night and deflated almost the instant he stopped kissing me. Once he stuffed my ass with hiscock, I left my body, and I don’t mean that in the transcendent sex way. I just sort of—switched off.
Maybe the sex didn’t take as long as it felt like it had.
“Sorry,” I murmur. “It wasn’t you. I must’ve had too much to drink.”
“Ah,” he says in understanding.
“You have plenty of people to fuck,” I add, refusing to feel bad about my lackluster performance. “Your wife included.”
“My wife has me on a once a month schedule, and that’s only if I’m in the right place at the right time.”
I often wonder how many more lovers Marcus has besides me. I can’t imagine him going a week, much less a month without sticking his dick in someone. But I do think I’m the only man he fucks, which I’d like to say is an honor, but probably has more to do with how I don’t really look all that much like a man. Truth be told, I’m concerned about not coming last night, too. Marcus is good in bed. Great, even. It wasn’t for lack of finesse or effort.
I just wasn’t feeling it. He doesn’t love me—and the feeling is mutual. Therefore, we use each other, and while I’m used to being used for my body, or my face—whichever—I, too, need to be in the mood.
“Sorry,” I say, speaking generally.
“I do need to go,” he says. “Speaking of my wife, I have a family situation—and yeah—I’ve got things on my mind. But I’d like to come back tonight, then I’ll fly out tomorrow and leave you alone.”
Leave me alone.
Alone.
“Dance party?” I ask, trying to perk myself up.
He chuckles. “If it helps.”
“Can’t hurt.” Maybe if I have a few drinks—not too many, put on some music, grind with him some, maybe I’ll get into themood and give him a decent send off until next time. It’s not like I want to lose my spot in his rotation.
Men like Marcus don’t grow on trees. It’s too bad he’s so straight and married, though. He’s everything I would want in a partner. Older, sophisticated, intelligent, mature, handsome, rich. Of course he’s not single. Isaac was at least singleandgay, but while he met all the other criteria, he was alot. The kind of man who needs a total firecracker of a person, which, these days, I amnot.
“I can’t wait to see what you’ll wear,” Marcus says, regarding the proposed dance party.
“You can always text your requests.”
He pats his thigh, indicating a desire for me to sit on his lap.
