Roger's Coming Out Ch. 02

Roger's Coming Out Ch 02

Phil comes home

All characters portrayed in this completely fictional story are over 18. A dominant alpha has awakened Roger to his deepest potential in Ch 01. In this second chapter, Roger begins to develop his new gay lifestyle. © Copyright, Brunosden, 2025. All rights reserved.

The Story continues in Roger's voice...

Phil arrived home on the Saturday of Labor Day weekend. He had been in London, working on a logistical consulting project for his employer. Phil was considered an engineering prodigy--able to work out the most difficult manufacturing glitches that baffled many of his seniors. In short, he was a real brain who could visualize a smooth assembly process in his head--and translate it to the complex computer-controlled machinery and robots on the floor. He had debugged another line successfully--and earned his firm a big success fee. The assignment had ended on Friday and he had taken an early plane which arrived at JFK mid-afternoon. New York was still summer hot, humid and hazy. But, fortunately our loft had a few noisy window units which kept us reasonably comfortable.

Phil Greene is my apartment-mate--and actually it is his name on the lease for the loft. I'm actually a share or sub-tenant. He's been away for almost four months, but had kept up the lease--the loft was an incredible find, and a bargain--and could not be replaced. For the two months, I've been a bachelor, relishing the space and solitude. Falling quite naturally into my contented-alone shell, jerking off to laptop porn--often projected onto our large LED, even experimenting with a few toys.

But for the last two months, I had had an unexpected (and initially at least, uninvited) "guest." A summer intern at ARM (my design employer), Colby Johnson, had completely blown me away when we met. I was a virgin, bi-curious, but he had shown me some of the most incredible sex that I could have imagined. I went from zero to 90 in a few hours! Then he seduced me into letting him move in for the summer in Phil's absence. It happened so quickly that I couldn't now reconstruct how it had all started. Sometimes you just have to realize that there are some wizards in this world. All I know is that within minutes of our meeting, I was so attracted to his beauty and his charm that I was his, willing to do anything he wanted. Then he proved to be an incredible expert lover. My submission was immediate and total.

He hadn't, however, moved into Phil's room. Instead he had taken up residence in my room, my bed--and my body. Colby was a magnificent specimen of the perfect athletic alpha top with a seductive Southern drawl. And he had used the summer to hatch me from my self-imposed sexual prison egg-shell. But, it wasn't to total sexual freedom. Rather, he had moved me into his orbit. I became his slave. Never in my life had I been so dependent on the words and the touch of another human being. I just can't explain it.

Looking back on these words, I can't believe how many superlatives I used concerning Colby. But you have to remember that he was my first and the most incredible introduction to sex that I could have wanted. Sorry, there I go again. But, I'm sure you remember your first real sex partner. He or she took you to the moon--and probably left you there!

I was no longer closeted (except at the office), but an active card-carrying bottom, cum-slut and sub. His large trophy dick had molded my chute for his pleasure--and it turned out I really didn't mind. In fact, within days, I was addicted to his cock. I would do anything to please it and keep it around. And I loved it. The fact that it hung from the crotch of an incredible beauty of a man didn't hurt either.

Maybe it's true: artists and architects are so vulnerable to beauty that they make split-second decisions that should have required lots of thought.

But the situation had ended.

Colby had returned to Penn to finish his masters only a few days before. But, he had left me changed. Now I needed sex; I needed to be fucked regularly; I needed dick. I was already anxious to find his replacement. Or at least my ass was itching for an encore partner or partners. Toys just didn't compare.

*****

During the two years that we had lived together, Phil and I had become very comfortable apartment mates. Neither of us brought home dates. In fact, I hadn't dated at all--and his dates all ended up "off-campus." He never talked about them. Both of us were reasonably clean, not bachelor slobs. I cooked and Phil did the household chores. And neither of us was a prude--which was very convenient since we shared the one bath in the loft which was adjacent to his first floor bedroom. In fact, despite the dramatic difference in our coloring, body style and attitude, we had fallen into an easy bro relationship. Casual nudity or semi-nudity was the watchword. We never did anything sexual together. And being guys, we never talked about anything personal or important, particularly not our "feelings." I am not even sure I ever saw his cock erect--or let him see mine.

Until I had been "opened up" by Colby, I think I had been oblivious to Phil's subtle hints that he might be interested in more than an apartment-mate-relationship. He had been looking for benefits. Now A. C. (After Colby), I was rethinking some of the times that I had ignored Phil's suggestions. Somehow I thought maybe the next few weeks might be very interesting. I was even beginning to re-think my potential attraction to him or maybe his to me.

Phil was Jewish, a New York native, with the typical dusky olive Semitic skin of his family. Short-ish black hair with a little curl, dark eyes, thin eyebrows, a sharp nose. He was tall and thin with a runner's long lithe build. Enormous dark brown aureoles on minor-league pecs with large nipples. Trimmed black pubes crowned a long, thin "aristocratic" cut dick. Probably made for fucking asses. (Funny, before Colby, I'm not sure I would have even added that to his description.) And, of course he was brilliant--a word that he brought home with him from London.

I had decided to stay home for the weekend, to wait for his homecoming, and to cook one of his favorite dinners--brisket with root veggies. He and two large suitcases arrived at five. He was tired, and headed in for a shower immediately--after pulling me into a bro-embrace which lasted longer than one might have guessed. The fact that his palms went to my butt to pull me in seemed entirely natural. He had missed me! He was talkative. So I followed him to his room. He unpacked a few things and pulled out his wash bag. Then he stripped and stepped into the shower. I realized that he had chubbed. Maybe he had been thinking about me on the flight. Throughout we continued the conversation.

As he emerged from the shower, dripping and looking awfully good in his new gauntness--he was paler and thinner from his time in London. He looked somehow hungry. His face was long, his nose thin, but the hollowed cheeks lent it a structure that was very attractive--feral, predatory and dominant, almost wolf-like. The thinness of his torso and the concavity of his gut emphasized his cut muscleclature, and it seemed to exaggerate the size of his semi. I had forgotten how long and well-shaped it was--nicely arching over his shaved balls, the helmet sitting like a crown atop the dark shaft. The rabbi had done him a favor by not cutting the hood too closely. So the knob had a very attractive collar. He finished drying his curly hair and, when he dropped the towel, noticed that I was staring at his stuff. He smiled; then carefully re-dried and fluffed them--almost like a tease.

"Something about you has changed, Roger. I can tell you've been to the gym. You're definitely filling out that tee. You seem more sensual. Do you have a girl friend? Is there something you want to tell me? Has someone moved into your room--in our apartment in my absence? I have this feeling that you are bursting with news. Something is definitely different."

I colored; I'm sure. But, it was too soon to talk seriously. "It's been a good summer. I've been enjoying myself--outside of ARM. But there is no girl, no significant other. Not yet anyway."

"Glad to hear you haven't decided to move me out, yet." He slipped on brief sweat shorts, took a long time tucking his dick carefully inside so it stretched across his upper thigh, and pulled a tee over his head. "Fuck, it's so good to have space--and the freedom to dress or not. My English host was insufferably prudish--and my room was incredibly small. I found a short term rental in a Hampstead townhouse that was really convenient. But it was small. My host was very formal. I never left my room except fully dressed--except maybe on weekends when he let me show up for breakfast in pjs and a robe. I'm so glad to be home." He looked around at all the space we had--and noticed, I'm sure, that I was wearing little more than he.

"There is something different about you, Roger. What is it?"

"Let me get us some drinks, and I'll give you the condensed version of these last few months. And speaking of different, you have definitely picked up an upper class British accent. It's very sexy. Very distinguished. Almost commanding. You'll be fighting them off."

"So there is something. I'm all ears. It seems that my hermit apartment-mate has been out in the world. I guess my absence was good for you--it forced you to seek companionship. Fortunately, she hasn't stolen you away from me. Yet."

I set the oven on warm to keep dinner ready for us, and opened a bottle of Prosecco, which I knew to be one of his favorites. I poured and we sat in the two facing armchairs in the living room. He automatically man-spread his legs so that I had a direct line of sight up into the crotch of his tight shorts that outlined his cock. He lifted his glass, and I lifted my eyes in a toast for his homecoming. "So what about you? Any action in London?"

"Actually, I did have someone until about a month ago. I met him at a neighborhood pub. We had sex a few nights a week after work until mid-summer. That's when Courtney's wife's summer uni classes ended and she was home every night. Then, it became logistically impossible. My landlord would never have permitted a guest. And he really couldn't justify getting away to a hotel."

You could have pushed me over with a marshmallow. I froze with the Prosecco glass at my lips. Courtney was a "he." Phil had had a homosexual relationship for months in London with a married man! This was the first time he had even mentioned that he went with boys. What was I supposed to say? Be casual, Roger, very casual. He's just dropped the h-bomb. Your immediate reaction is critical.

"So what was he like? What did he look like?" (That was about as non-confrontational as I could handle.)

Phil fairly obviously rearranged his dick so it stretched down the inside of his thigh. Visualizing his London conquest was turning him on. "Very British. Average height. Pale complexion. Straw blonde. Not very muscular. A little reserved. Cute, but average cut dick. But with a terrific bubble--that he insisted on calling his "bum." And what a bum it turned out to be. Soft, yet firm. Not a hair. He was typically the bottom, moaning and groaning as I plowed and plundered. Couldn't get enough of my dick. Called me his aggressive Yank. A cowboy riding his ass. But, no commitment. He was definitely staying married. Just a fling. Just what the doctor ordered. A prescription that I filled for him three evenings a week. For at least a good part of my time in London."

I guess he noticed my silence and my consternation.

"I know this might be a bit of shock to you, Roger. But, I've known that I'm gay for years. But, didn't do much about it here. I've cruised the Village bars a little and gone home with a few guys. But, I've kept it quiet and discrete. I didn't want to lose my very nice but very straight flatmate. Once in the UK, however, I decided to make believe it was Vegas and throw caution to the wind. I found Courtney at a pub. He seemed to be coming on to me. But, he was a little reticent. So I took the initiative. His small flat was just a short walk away. He was bi-curious, but an anal virgin. I took care of that, thank you. And then we were a thing. Now I know. I don't want to live without sex with a real live partner again. My dick belongs in a nice supple ass. As often as I can manage."

"I'm hoping this doesn't make a different to us. I've enjoyed having you as a flatmate. But, I think maybe in the next few weeks I'll be looking for someone to bring home from time to time. I'll try to warn you in advance. And I'll be discrete." Then he sat back and waited. His dick was hard and poking out of the leg opening. He was gauging my reaction--and waiting for my story.

"Well, good for you, Phil. Everyone deserves to be happy. No judgment here. Not a problem at all."

I think maybe he was expecting something more. But after a few minutes of silence, he asked, "So what about you?"

"As I said before, until summer, things were pretty much as they had been when you were here. I didn't date. Worked pretty long hours to compensate. I kept up the runs on the Westway most days to maintain my sanity. I was pretty happy alone, setting my own priorities."

"Then everything changed when the summer started and my assigned intern arrived at ARM. At first, like most of the ARM mentors, I didn't look forward to the extra burden of baby-sitting--while evaluating and attracting a potential new employee. Colby, who at first looked like a big, dumb, muscled surfer dude, turned out to be not only competent, but an extroverted alpha on steroids! He quickly learned the office routine and contributed--no really began to control--the projects to which we were assigned."

Phil continued to sip his Prosecco without taking his eyes from me, as if to say, "And then?"

"Well, there's no other way to say it. He moved in. Not just the loft. He moved into my bed. He seduced me, and I let him fuck me. And used me for his pleasure. I became his New York City bottom. I don't blame anything on him. I was a goner from almost the first moment. His cum-slut from the next."

"Did he rape you?"

"No, I wanted it. At first I told myself that he had some magical seductive power that had hypnotized me, or fooled me. He was a god, an incredible hunk. Taller, bigger, much more a man than I. But, I definitely wanted it. I wanted him. I wanted him to show me what it means to be a hunk's bitch. And wow, was he a good teacher!"

Phil was silent, absorbing all. I could almost see the thought processes going on behind his dark eyes. "What did he look like?" I described him, and Phil's face turned to consternation. "So, you're into surfer hunks? I guess that leaves me out. I'm probably his exact opposite. But, he's gone now? I presume back to school to finish up. Do you have plans to maintain the relationship--can I call it that?"

"Colby is back at Penn. But, he didn't invite me to visit in Philadelphia, nor did he say anything about visiting here. When he left, he mentioned something like 'looking forward to next year when I'm an employee' but there were no promises and no specifics. I think I was his toy and tool this summer. He used me to secure a place to stay for the summer and a permanent spot at ARM--and he used my ass to get off regularly without having to cruise. I'm afraid that next year I wouldn't hold the same value for him. He's good. And he can have me anytime. But, he can probably fuck any guy he wants--with his looks and his personality. I'm being realistic. It was a summer fling--and he's a user. But, I'm not complaining. It was definitely good while it lasted."

"As you so intelligently noted, I'm a changed boy, Phil; a very changed boy."

"I don't regret it. And I don't blame him. He's taught me something about myself that I guess I might never have learned--until it was too late. I'm gay--and a confirmed bottom. Maybe a little submissive."

I wanted to give Phil time to digest what I had just revealed--and I needed time to consider his confession as well. I had just come out to him--and I guess I was pretty excited when I described Colby--a guy so different from Phil. We were at a potential crossroads--and I didn't relish having to find another apartment, and presumably another roommate.

"Dinner is ready. Shall we eat?"

"Yeah. But this conversation is not yet over. I've been trying to get you interested in me for two years, Roger. Now, I think I realize I should have been more assertive. We've wasted a lot of time. I think I know what I want for dessert. Will you consider that? No, that's not a question. Get ready, Roger. That ass is mine tonight."

I didn't respond--that is, I didn't say no, but we went in to dinner. I served and we sat, mostly in silence, staring with new eyes at each other. It was like one of those movies that use a meal as a stand-in for foreplay. With every passing second, Phil's hungry face looked better and better. His dark eyes were clearly attempting to seduce me. He was like a fucking cobra swaying above his wicker basket. And the thought of his cock in my ass was causing it to twitch. We both knew what might be coming. So we ate little, slowly and sensuously, with lots of obvious tongue. We were measuring each other--not as flatmates, but as potential bed partners. The more I thought about it, the better it seemed. And the harder my dick became under the table.

I think Phil must have come to the same conclusion. We weren't halfway done when he rose and moved behind my chair. He reached down and kissed my neck as his hands cupped my pecs and pinched the nipples. The electricity shot straight to my dick. I rose and turned and we pulled each other into an embrace. Deep soul-searching kisses followed as we sucked breath from each other and our tongues dueled. Both of his hands reached down to my butt, slipped under the waistband and gripped the cheeks. He moaned as he massaged. I guess my butt would do for the bum he was craving. Fuck, it felt so good to have a man's hands on my ass again, claiming them as his. We were both rock hard, tenting my thin nylon shorts and his knit shorts.

He walked me back to the sofa and pushed me into it on my belly before falling on me--just as Colby had done months before to begin my initiation into mansex. Phil was gentler, but he did squirm around on top, holding me down and cocooning me into total submission. His lips moved from ear lobe to nape to the other ear lobe, sucking, kissing and licking. He wasn't taking any chances. He wanted me really aroused and ready. He was definitely orchestrating this show. I shuddered in anticipation. I knew how I enjoyed it when Colby had taken me forcefully. But, Phil was different. He seemed equally strong and dominant, but somehow he also seemed to be careful to ensure that I was okay with everything he was doing. And I was. Boy, was I! He moved slowly above me, stroking his rigid cock up and down my nylon-clad cleft. He was big, really big--and spotting the front of his shorts. I pushed my ass up into him and felt the hardness slide. When I did, he reached under and fisted my steely pole.

Suddenly, Phil froze, and with authority and urgency in his voice, commanded, "My bed. Now, boy. Move. Get naked. It's been a week and I'm spilling over."

I loved it when he took charge. So I almost ran to his bed, stripping my tee and shorts before throwing myself belly down on his bed. Within seconds, I could feel the heat of his glare. "Fuck, that bum is so bloody fuckin' fuckable. And I'm so bloody fuckin' full if spunk." Then he stripped, pounced and spread out on top. He held me to the mattress, but I managed to squirm under him, nestling his cock nicely between my cheeks. He slipped slightly to the side and pulled my back into his chest. One strong hand went to my throat. He pulled me to the side and took my lips in his. He was so hot and so urgent. Fuck, this was going to be fast.

Then he pushed my right thigh forward and I felt his lubed fingers opening me. His other hand moved to my cock to steady me as his helmet pushed at my entrance. He was about Colby's girth, but quite a bit longer--and the helmeted and collared head was a bottom's dream. "Tell me you want this, boy. Tell me now."

"Fuck me, sir. Put him in. I'm yours."

It popped in. I felt the momentary pain. Then, the fullness stretching my chute. I thought to myself. Fuck, this is Phil's cock in me. I think I've wanted this for months. So I pushed my ass back into his gut and took him deeper--until he was resting firmly against my nut. I could tell he was pleased--he could be my partner. Pleasurable endorphins spread through my body. I saw stars--and it was only seven and still light. I felt the lightning flash. But the sky was clear. "Right there, Phil. Right there. Don't move an inch." He froze, but I could still feel the blood pounding into his shaft to maintain his rigidity. His cock actually vibrated against my pleasure point, sending waves up my spine. My ass was already in love with his cock.

His hands were almost frantic. He moved quickly from pinching my nipples, to stroking my shaft to massaging my balls. He was doing everything possible to move me along.

"I can't hold it anymore, Roger. I'm ready to explode. I'll do more for you next time, I promise." Then he pushed hard and bottomed. Two or three pushes later, I felt the hot, liquid explosion of his spunk deep inside. Fuck, he hadn't wrapped. But, I didn't care. I was clean. And he just had to be. He was Phil, the perfect roommate lover.

He stroked me a few times as he shot, and I too followed, filling his fist with my creamy, musky seed. The room filled with our manly scent. His cock relaxed a bit, but remained inside--one of the advantages I guess of having a long shower dick. We fell into an easy relaxed position, really a ready-made spoon. Then he brought his hand to his lips and tasted me. "Best dessert in the world. Want to share?"

Phil was tired and jet-lagged. Soon his breathing slowed and I knew he was in that first light dreamy sleep that often follows strenuous sex. I wriggled my butt into his gut and went silent and still, relishing his protective arms and legs now holding me to him. It felt so right. So perfect. I reached down carefully and pulled up the cover. It was early, but in his arms, I was ready to sleep.

He woke early (he was still on London time) and moved quietly to the bath. But, I heard him and felt him leave. I felt so alone, so empty without him around me and in me, although I was basking in our musky aroma. A few minutes later I heard him in the kitchen--and knew how helpless he was in that environment--probably the reason for his leanness. How could a mechanical genius on the manufacturing floor turn totally inept in the kitchen? So I got up, emptied and brushed and walked into the kitchen. He was standing at the counter, nude, puzzling over our new expensive coffee butler. I walked up behind him, silently on bare feet, and wrapped my arms around his waist, nipped at the back of his neck, and pressed my wood into his cleft. "Coffee, tea or me, sir?"

He turned, smiled and took my lips. "Good morning, boy. Glad to see you're still naked. I think I'm going to keep you that way for some time."

He held me tight as his erection lofted into my gut. "Roger, why did you keep this from me for so long?"

"I think maybe I could say the same. We've got a lot of making up to do. Now, move away from the appliance, sir, before it bites you. I'll take care of that later!" Then I made the coffee. While it brewed, he bent me over the counter and with only a little prep, had his way with me. I can attest--it's much better than OJ to start the day. I had invited him after all.

We went for a long Sunday morning run. The September air was slightly chilled, but summer was lingering. By the time we returned to the loft, we were both soaked with sweat and smelly. He looked positively feral and so sexy as he headed for the shower.

"Let's not waste water. But more importantly, let's not waste that delicious man funk that's emanating from your body. Let me clean you up, sir." I pushed him into the recliner, knelt before him and pulled down the running shorts. Even flaccid, his cock was beautiful--and the musk, hot, moist and manly. Wow. Intoxicating. I pushed his legs apart and dove in. I could take his entire length, only semi-ed at that point, inside. My tongue had a party licking as my lips did their best to suck him to hardness, feasting on his tasty musk. Soon he was levitating above the leather cushion, forcing deep into my throat, and his forearms were pounding on the armrest.

"Oh, fuck, Roger. That's so good. Too good. I'm cuming already." He started to pull out, but my hands went to the base of the shaft and his balls to hold him deeply inside. I think he got the message. I was going to swallow his spunk. His legs stiffened, getting ready to blast. So I jammed the heel of my hand on his taint and pushed hard. Constricting the flow of his semen was exquisitely pleasurable. Then, I tickled and massaged his balls. He gasped, moaned, hissed. I guess he was enjoying our first blow. I felt the bulb swell, and it touched the back of my throat. Then he started to fill me with his stuff. After the first blast, I backed off a little to catch some on my tongue to savor his taste. Then I moved up and kissed him--so we could share.

Finally, his ass returned to the seat. I moved into his lap and pulled his head toward mine with hands interlaced behind his neck. He was wasted and empty. His curly black locks dripped with moisture over his forehead as his eyes drooped with fatigue--making him unbelievably sexy. I had rendered him impotent--for a few minutes anyway. My first blow with my best friend. He held me in his lap as we caressed and kissed for a long time. Then his hand began to fondle my moist dick. "Fuck, you came just blowing me. Are you really that into me? I can't believe how good this is--and how good it's going to be. But, let's get that shower now."

And this time I gladly moved with him into the stall. We soaped each other. I realized then how much of a "bum" man he was. He bent me over into a submissive stance, reached around my waist, grabbed my cock, and used it to steady me hard in his crotch. I arched my back provocatively and pushed my ass up into him. Then he slammed his conditioner-slicked dick firmly inside. One stroke, hard and hot. It stung and burned, but only for a few seconds. That was fine with me. My ass was his. I loved it when he was filling it.

We spent the rest of the holiday weekend in bed. Phil insisted that I top at least once--and I think I was pretty good at it--certainly if his moans of pleasure were any indication. He promised that he would "require" me to top him regularly. "I have a love nut too, boy. And it enjoys some attention from time to time. I insist. You'll be doing it for me."

But, rested and after a few performances, he proved his real talent. He was a really good and considerate lover. Varying his strokes in direction, depth and speed. Slow to cum. Hands that roamed to all my pleasure points. Patient with my response. Large enough to provide genuine joy to a confirmed bottom--but long and thin enough to maneuver talentedly inside my chute. And he could edge with the best. This guy had it all. How had we wasted so much time? I vowed never to bottle up my desires and needs again. It costs too much. I was going to lavish my love and attention on this man. I resolved to be his bottom, his alone.

I was in lust, probably in love.

The next weeks proved to be everything we had hoped. We moved into an easy partnership. I moved to his bed where he typically spooned me into him. He made room in his closet. And we turned the loft bedroom into a home office--since both of us were now spending two or three days each week working from home. On those days, noonsies replaced lunch--making them my favorite days of the week. There is something about making love in the middle of the work day. It's so naughty. So bad. And yet soooo good.

Like an old married couple, we developed a style of making love. Phil preferred missionary, because he said that he could read the pleasure in my eyes as he moved me into the position of ultimate surrender, jack-knifed and rolled back. His long arms stretched to the side, holding me tight but suspending himself over me. He stiffened and deepened, punishing my prostate and bottoming as he pushed up and plundered back down. I felt the helplessness of a true bottom--and loved it. It is only by giving up everything to your lover that you reap the biggest rewards. And then as we climaxed, he would release my legs which would move to a tight hold around his thighs as my hands would squeeze his ass cheeks. Our chests would meet and our lips would clash. We would freeze into a long hot embrace as his long hot dick would twitch slowly as it withdrew.

I did "top" so to speak from time to time. Not really. He would ride me cowboy or cowgirl--so he really was the active partner, and he did have a needy prostate which he knew how to satisfy. I did learn to plant my feet and push up deeply into him. I loved the look on his face when I punched his nut. It was definitely worth the price of insertion! I'd never be as good at this as he. But, he seemed to enjoy it (me).

Despite valiant efforts on his part, Phil began to lose the aristocratic British accent--and it often came off as a joke. But I nevertheless convinced him to "play the dom" as often as possible. So our conversation before he took me invariably included some particularly British words, spoken with long deep vowels. Fuck, I felt the itch in my chute when he'd just mouth a few of the dom words. I particularly loved his adoption of "arrrse." The depth of his voice vibrated within me and set me off. It was like he was speaking from one of the Parliamentary back benches.

For my part, I think that my sexual maturation at home had released my psyche at the office. Certainly, Phil was profuse in his praise of my body, my technique, my willingness to make it all work. I continued at the gym and with our joint runs. Phil had repeatedly noted that he liked his bottoms manly and muscled. My confidence rose. My projects were surer and completed in record time. One of my partners even asked what had happened to me. "We always knew you were a talented architect, but until the last few months, we weren't sure that you were destined to move up the management ladder. You seemed too reticent, not hungry enough to sell ARM to the world. You've changed, I'm happy to say. Whatever it is, keep doing it, Roger. It suits you well."

*****

Nearly a year later, Colby returned to ARM (after taking the summer off after graduation to enjoy the Carolina beaches). I would be lying if I didn't admit to feeling a little fear. Colby had had a magical hold over me for several months--and he had left, not me. But, I needn't have worried. It was clear from the first that Colby was out for bigger fish. Within days of arrival, it was obvious to me--although probably not to the office--that Colby had set his sights on one of the managing partners, one known to be gay since he had just broken up fairly violently with a younger guy--the son of one of our largest clients. There was even concern that we might lose the client over the affair. The young guy was apparently not happy to have lost his Daddy.

I figured that George was about to be swept off his feet. He was about to become a willing and eager sub to Colby's commanding physique and personality. And I guessed that Colby was probably a short-term employee at ARM. However, it worked with George, fucking your boss is never a good idea for the long term. I had nothing to worry about. And certainly Colby would get everything he deserved.

Once or twice, when George was out of town, Colby invited me for a drink--which he presumably assumed would be at my loft. But, I refused. "I'm taken, Colby. You need to look elsewhere."

I mentioned to Phil one night at dinner that I was definitely over Colby. "He's definitely in the past tense for me." And that's when Phil popped the question. He wanted us to marry--with a big public wedding. When he asked, I walked to the bedside table and removed the titanium rings that I had already bought. "I hope you haven't purchased them yet. I got these last week. The answer is yes. As soon as possible."

"Let's celebrate in bed."

"Only if you top, milord."

"Yes, boy. Gladly. You are my favorite bum-bottom. We're going to honeymoon in London."

BD