The Freelance Graphics Designer

The time was 9 a. m. My favorite coffee shop was populated by probably 30 people plus counter help. My lap top sat in front of me, its screen displaying a design. Fully absorbed in the project, I sip a latte as I work

At 30 years of age, I'm a freelance graphics designer with a thriving enterprise. The project on which I am working is nearly complete. I had secured another contract but would give myself a day off before starting it.

I never suspected that my life would change that morning, until it did. In the parking lot I encountered James Lance, an X jock whom I had not seen since high school days.

James is a strikingly handsome dude. Dark-brown wavy hair frames his face. He has brown eyes, bow-shaped lips and a prominent Adams apple. His body is toned. Just the right amount of muscle makes it sexy.

We fell into easy but brief conversation there between my Toyota Carolla and his gray Chevy Silverado under the warm northern Ohio sun. I talked about being a graphics designer in my own business. He listened, but said little. He mentioned having an older brother who was a senior when we were eighth graders. I admitted to being an only child.

Back in the day we hung out with different friends, he with the "cool kids" and I with the geeks. I wasn't exactly a studious type but I did love to draw and paint. In fact, art had been my favorite class. I had always known subconsciously that I wanted to make a living as an artist.

Something in the way he looked at me at that moment, our first contact in 12 years, gave me the sense that we would see a lot of each other.

Like me, James had never married. The funny thing was that there was never a time when he didn't have a girlfriend. At least it seemed that way.

I, on the other hand, never had a girlfriend, nor had I felt any desire to be with one. Since the onset of puberty I knew I was attracted to boys but hid that side of myself until college when I had briefly dated Fred Clarke. Fred and I had just a semester together.

By 10 that night I had stepped into the shower. Being naked made me imagine myself doing James, the images giving me an erection. My hand slid rapidly along the six-inch shaft as warm water washed away the perspiration.

After fitful sleep I sipped my morning coffee while scrolling through my high school's Facebook page. Jame's name came up so I texted him.

"I'm glad we ran into each other yesterday. At the moment I'm browsing the school's Facebook page."

I found myself hoping that he and I would see more of each other. I was ready to give him all the time he needed to figure out what he wanted to build with me. I wanted more than friendship.

His reply came by the end of the day.

"I would have answered sooner but I just got home from work."

He added a smiley face Emoji.

We exchanged telephone numbers. Over the next several days we texted or emailed one another nightly gradually getting to know one another.

We talked about everything and nothing: friends, family, incidents past and present, architecture, sports, TV shows, actors, music, musicians.

Three weeks passed. During all that time e-mail and text had been our only contact.

As I listened to my audio book that Friday evening my phone buzzed. His name came up. This turned out to be a video call.

"Let's go for coffee tomorrow morning. I'm thinking 9 o'clock at the cafe where you like to work."

"Love to," I replied.

"I'll See you there."

We took seats at an outdoor table. His eyes held my eyes for a few seconds while we sipped latte.

He finally spoke. "I need to tell you something."


I nodded, waiting for his confession.

"I never felt this way about a guy before, the way I feel about you. I want to kiss you."

"I feel the same way."

"It's terrifying. I never knew I could have such feelings for a man."

"I've known since I was 13 that I can have feelings for a man. You surprise me, all those girlfriends I mean."

"Looking back, none of that was real. I mean I liked them but I was never in Love."

As we walked out of the cafe he took my hand in a tight grip. At that instant when we reached our cars he pressed a kiss onto my lips. I responded in kind and the kiss deepened. He draped his arms over my shoulders. I draped my arms around his back.

James and I spent the whole day together. We watched Double-A baseball and enjoyed a leisurely late afternoon meal before coming to my apartment.

"Nice place you have," he remarked, looking at the decor. Two paintings on my livingroom wall held his gaze.

"Did you paint those?"

"As a high school kid," I replied.

On the left hung a cityscape. To the right hung a painting of a pub. Both were done in watercolor.

"Let me see some samples of your professional work."

"OK," I said then retrieved my lap top from my office.

We settled into my sofa close enough to touch each other.

Several of my latest designs were stored in a file folder which I opened for him. Each one kept his attention for several seconds.

He spoke for a couple minutes about buildings which he designed. Conversation ceased abruptly. He leaned into a kiss, this one leaving no doubt about his feelings and desire.

"Masturbate for me. It turns me on."

His soft spoken request came with his fingers rubbing my organ through my pants. Within half a minute we both could tell that my dick got hard.

I walked around my coffee table to the middle of the room where I shed my clothes. Having returned to the sofa I leaned against his shoulder while rubbing myself. He locked his eyes onto my lap and rapidly moving hand.

A thin stream of white fluid left streaks near my naval. I adjusted my aim, this time dropping cum on my left thigh.

"OH honey that so hot."

His soft spoken compliment made me smile.

My dick went limp as he slid his fingers through the fluids on my body.