Bate Club Pt. 06

The bus ride back to Canberra was sad but uneventful. As he usually did lately, Oscar purchased two seats so he wouldn't have to sit next to anyone. As soon as the coach was out on the motorway, he fell into a light sleep. He woke up again about halfway home. He plugged his headphones in and listened to a podcast, though he found it difficult to stay focused.

His mind kept drifting back to bate club last Tuesday. Fuck, was it really that recent? It hadn't even been a week, but he knew he'd look back upon it in years to come as one of the nights that changed the direction of his life. He remembered how much he'd been looking forward to attending bate club, but also how nervous he felt that day, and how right at the moment of truth, he almost chickened out. He remembered how painfully long it took him to get checked in that day, and how he didn't really know what was going on or what to do. He remembered how stiflingly hot the room was.

He remembered how Billy approached him, casually yet confidently, and how the first part of his body he ever touched was his cock. He remembered being smitten by Billy's good looks -- his freckles, his blue eyes, the tattoo that ran the length of his left arm, and his insanely cute nose ring. He remembered Billy showing him around the space, making him feel welcome, and how his anxiety began to fade away as he began to settle in and enjoy himself. He remembered sitting next to Billy as they jacked each other off. He remembered Billy telling him he thought he was cute, and how his response was to grab his face and kiss him. He remembered how their very first kiss made his painfully erect cock twitch and fire. He remembered watching Billy scooping up some of his load, lifting the warm liquid to his tongue and lips. And, later that night, he remembered kneeling on the floor, getting drenched with twenty or thirty loads of hot cum as the sticky, steamy night quite literally came to a climax.

He remembered telling himself to say 'yes' to everything.

The coming days, weeks and months were going to be difficult, and probably emotionally challenging, but he knew what he wanted.

It was hot outside, but the bus was cold. Oscar shivered a little as he pressed a palm against the thick glass windowpane. He reached up to close the air-conditioning vent above his head.

He imagined three possible scenarios awaiting him when he got home. The first was that his wife would be cold and distant, disengaged from conversation and completely uninterested in him. She'd give monosyllabic answers to his open-ended questions, looking for all the world like she wished he'd never come back home and had stayed in Sydney instead.

The second was furious rage. Oscar's wife wasn't quick to anger -- neither of them relished tough conversations or conflict, which was probably how their marriage fell in a hole in the first place -- but on rare occasions over the course of their relationship, he'd seen her arc up unexpectedly. This scenario was unlikely, but he couldn't rule it out.

The third scenario was that she'd greet him at the door like a wounded soldier coming home from a war, fawning all over him, sinking to her knees to swallow his unborn kids while the smell of a delicious roast floated out from the kitchen.

He knew things would never be the same.

His phone buzzed in his pocket with a message from Billy. 'good luck sexy cunt'

Oscar grimaced. He replied with the smiley face emoji.

The air-conditioned bus rolled on towards the nation's capital. Oscar's mouth was dry; he sipped some water, just for a moment wishing he had someone else's life.

What could be better than bringing up a family in Canberra? A couple of years ago, the OECD reckoned it was the best city on earth. It was a city on the grow, but it wasn't a large metropolis by any stretch of the imagination. Highrise buildings had begun to emerge recently, but the city Australians affectionately called the 'bush capital' still had plenty of open space. There was hardly any heavy industry, which meant the air was clear and unpolluted. Skies were often blue during the day, and the milky way sparkled brightly on a clear night.

Oscar sighed. He closed his eyes, focusing on his breath.

The coach pulled up at the interstate terminal and the air brakes hissed like an angry cat. He stepped out, collected his luggage, and headed across the street to the local bus interchange. He scrolled through socials on his phone while he waited, but his mind was elsewhere.

*

It was about three in the afternoon when Oscar walked up the driveway to his three-bedroom suburban castle, built for the ideal nuclear family. His heart was beating fast. Their car was parked outside, but as he approached, there were no signs of life. He unlocked the front door and stepped inside. The air felt warm, but there was no motion, no movement, no sound. He dropped his luggage onto the floor. "Hey," he called out.

He heard familiar footsteps. "Hey," said Bonnie. Her voice was small and her smile was thin.

"Where are the kids?"

"At grandma's," she explained. "I'll pick them up in an hour or two. They knew you were coming back home today, and they were eager to see you again, but I told them they'd see you later tonight." Bonnie paused. "Like I said, we need to talk, and it's gonna be easier this way, I think." Nervously, she flicked her brown hair back.

Oscar approached her and they hugged, but the gesture felt stilted and awkward. "Gonna make myself a cuppa," he said. "You want one?"

"Sure. Thanks."

Oscar filled the kettle and flicked the switch. He grabbed two mugs from the cupboard, placing a metallic tea strainer into each. He added a heaped spoonful of leaves to each before pouring boiling water over them.

"Good bus trip back?" she asked.

"Suppose so," came Oscar's reply. He flicked his shaggy hair away from his eyes. "I slept for about half of it."

Bonnie didn't reply. She watched Oscar strain the tea before adding a splash of cold milk to each cup. He handed her one. "Thanks," she said, grabbing it with both hands, not looking at him.

They sat down on the couch.

"How was your week?" she asked, and Oscar wasn't sure where to even begin. He wondered how honest he'd be during this conversation.

"Not bad," came the classic Australian understated reply.

"What did you get up to?" she probed.

Oscar's initial reply was cagey. "We spoke on the phone every night, like we usually do whenever one of us is travelling."

Bonnie sipped her tea. It was still a little too warm for her. Oscar's trips to Sydney each January were, for her, about giving him space to be alone for a while. She knew about his bi side, and while she wished for something different, she knew she couldn't change it. She couldn't erase her husband's desire for cock, no matter how much she might've wanted to. She knew he would've enjoyed hot weather, long walks and invigorating morning swims while he was away. She knew he would've had random sex with anonymous men: it made her cringe inside, but she knew this was how things were. This time, she had an inkling that one of her husband's hookups might've played out a little differently. She remembered that phone call from a few nights ago. She'd said some things she'd regretted.

"I think I found someone," Oscar blurted.

Bonnie felt startled. This wasn't what she expected to hear. This wasn't the conversation she expected to have.

"I think I found someone," repeated Oscar. "In Sydney. A guy."

Bonnie sipped her tea. "What do you mean?"

Oscar swallowed hard. "I mean ... I think I have a boyfriend."

Bonnie echoed his words back to him, in sheer disbelief. "You think you have a boyfriend."

Oscar remained silent, letting his words settle. He knew they'd be like a bomb going off.

"You're not serious, are you, Oscy? I said some things on the phone the other night, and I ..."

Slowly, he nodded. "Yeah. I'm serious."

Bonnie exhaled unevenly. This wasn't happening. "When we first got together, you told me you were bi, but you also said you were hetero-romantic. You told me it was just about sex. You said you couldn't ever imagine yourself in a relationship with a bloke."

"That's what I thought too," Oscar replied, quietly. "I never saw this coming."

Bonnie ran her fingers nervously through her hair. "I know what you get up to on your Sydney getaways. You used to tell me all about it when you came back, and even though I didn't really want to know, I was at least glad you felt comfortable enough to tell me. It felt like there were no secrets between us. But the last couple of times you've gone up, sure, we talk on the phone briefly each night, but you don't ever tell me the details anymore ..."

"I'm not keeping secrets, Bonnie," interrupted Oscar.

She stopped.

"I got the message loud and clear that you didn't want to know, so I stopped telling you. It was never about keeping things hidden from you." He paused for a second, sipping his tea. "I'm glad to know I was right about that. That you didn't want to know, that is. I mean, you'd never said that to me before."

Bonnie's voice was soft. "I wanted to know, but at the same time, I didn't." She tried to collect her thoughts, but it wasn't easy. "It's really hard to explain, Oscy. There's a difference between me wanting you to tell me, and at the same time, me not wanting to know."

Oscar tried hard to make his wife's last sentence fit into his brain.

Bonnie noticed her hands were trembling. "Like, I wish ... I just wish ... I wish that you were ... I mean, that you weren't ..."

"I know what you wish, Bonnie, but we've been over this a million times. I swear, I haven't ever lied to you about anything."

Bonnie stared at the carpet. Time for her stood still. "Did you know this guy before you went up to Sydney?"

"No. I met him there."

Bonnie did some quick mental maths. "You left on Monday morning, and it's Saturday arvo. You've been away for five nights, and in that time, you're telling me you found a boyfriend?"

"Yes," Oscar breathed.

Bonnie stood up to pace the room. "Oscy, this makes no sense! Look around you. We have a house, a life together, two kids, we've been together for almost ten years ... and you're going to throw it all away for some slut you've known for about half an hour?"

Oscar didn't reply.

Bonnie was shaking. "OK, so tell me about him. What's his name? What does he look like? How did you meet?"

Oscar looked her in the eyes. He could tell she was frightened for what this might mean for her, but there was an unmistakeable trace of anger in her gaze. He decided to tell her everything. "His name is Billy. He's about the same height as me. He's pale skinned, he has short red hair, blue eyes, and fat lips. He's got freckles all over his nose and cheeks. He's got a tattoo that covers his entire left arm and he wears a nose ring. His dick's a little bit bigger than mine. He's into footy, and he follows the Sydney Swans, same as me."

Bonnie couldn't care less about his dick size. "How did you meet?" she asked again, impatient for her husband's answer.

Oscar gulped. "We met at a bate club."

Bonnie shook her head. "Huh?"

"We met at a bate club," Oscar repeated.

"What the fuck's a bate club?"

Oscar explained.

"OK," said Bonnie, trying to take it all in, "so you went to a dark room where thirty or so naked men you didn't know sat around masturbating, watching gay porn? Have you ever been to one of these before and not told me?"

"No, I haven't. This was my first time."

Despite herself, Bonnie believed him. "How'd you find out about it?"

"Online." While that was true, Oscar genuinely couldn't recall the details, and thankfully, Bonnie didn't press.

"And Billy was there the night you went."

"Yeah," said Oscar. "That's where we met. I didn't meet him online, if that's what you're wondering. He walked up to me at the bate club and said I was cute." He paused for a second. "It's been a long time since anyone told me that."

"Was he the guy who was with you when we spoke one night? Was he the guy who sucked your dick while we were on the phone?"

Oscar nodded. "Yeah."

Suddenly, Bonnie felt defensive. "How much does he know about me?"

"He knows I'm married, but he doesn't know anything about you. He doesn't even know your name."

"What *does* he know, then?"

"I told him we had a mortgage and a couple of kids."

"What else?"

"Not much else," and for the first time, Oscar felt a pang of moral cowardice. He'd told Billy a little bit more than that.

"What does he do?"

"He's a bricklayer. He works on building sites."

For some strange, unknown reason, Bonnie felt immediate contempt for his occupation. She tried not to show it, but Oscar saw it, and something about her reaction tripped the switch inside of him.

"You and I hardly ever have sex anymore, Bonnie," he began, "and whenever we do, I'm always the one who initiates it. We used to fuck all the time, but lately, it feels like you don't want it and you don't enjoy it, but you're willing to tolerate it. For me, that's not enough. Sex is a way for us to stay connected, but I feel like I'm imposing on you, forcing you to do something you don't want to do. It pushes me away, and it makes me feel sad and unloved." He paused for a second. "Like, everything between you and me feels stale. I've just experienced four days and nights of the complete and total opposite of what we currently have. Billy is into me in ways you just aren't anymore, and ..."

"So it's just about sex, is it?" his wife interrupted. "This would never have happened if I sucked your dick from time to time, is that what you're telling me? The house doesn't matter, our kids don't matter, our social circles don't matter, but this brickie *does*, because he swallows your cum? Is that it?"

"You don't understand, Bonnie. It's not just about sex, it's about the connection that sex brings. I don't feel connected to you right now. I don't feel loved. I don't feel valued. You never tell me I look good, or that I turn you on ... like, I get nothing from you, absolutely nothing. I feel like someone who brings home a wage, looks after the kids, pays the bills and and keeps the yard tidy."

Her breath was heavy and laboured. "I can't think. I need to go out for a bit." Without another word, Bonnie collected her keys and closed their front door behind her. She jumped into their car and drove away.

Oscar was left alone in their living room. He had so much more he wanted to say to her, but she wasn't there to hear it. He understood. He knew she didn't relish these kinds of conversations, and neither did he; but sometimes, they were necessary.

Everything was quiet. Oscar walked down the hallway to their bedroom, and lying on the bed, he burst into tears. This was a scenario he hadn't predicted on the bus.

Through bloodshot eyes, he checked his phone, desperately hoping to find a supportive message from Billy, but there was nothing.

Everything was fucked.

*

Oscar spent the next half an hour or so lying on his back, staring at the ceiling as he thought about life, death, and everything else in between. An occasional car motored down the road outside. He went through his mental calculus so many times his brain started to hurt, but each time, he arrived at the same conclusion. This wasn't his life anymore. He and Bonnie had grown apart, and nothing she'd said during their truncated conversation just now changed his mind. She hadn't said 'I love you', she hadn't said 'I missed you while you were away', she hadn't said 'you look hot', she hadn't said 'I'm so fuckin' into you, hubby'; there'd been nothing.

This had evolved across a few years, perhaps so slowly that neither of them consciously registered what was happening, but right now, at least to Oscar, it felt too late to put things back on track.

He needed some company. He rang a mate from work, and they met at a pub in Braddon for a feed and a couple of beers. A Big Bash cricket game was on the TV. They talked, but Oscar wasn't in the mood for a deep conversation; all he wanted right now was to not feel alone.

After an hour or two, Oscar headed back to the bus stop. It was raining now; thick, heavy drops pouring from the sky, and he hadn't brought an umbrella. Sheltering under cover, he checked his phone. Nothing.

He watched lightning flash across the sky as his bus carried him back into suburbia. He sat towards the front, watching through the windscreen as the wipers flicked back and forth. He was saturated by the time he arrived back home.

His kids were planted on the floor in front of the television, fixated on the Bluey episode they were watching, when his key turned in the door. Immediately, they descended upon him, and for a moment, all Oscar felt was love. His clothes dripped cool rainwater all over the carpet. There might've been tension between him and his wife right now, but he did his best to make sure his kids didn't feel it.

Later that night, after putting the kids to bed, Bonnie and Oscar talked some more. "If you wanna be gay, then ..."

Oscar felt exasperated. "I'm not fucking gay, Bonnie. After all these years, after all this time, do you still not fucking get it? The way you said what you just said, it sounds like you think this is a choice for me. It isn't."

"You're into men."

"Yeah, but you knew that right from the start. I told you on our very first date, yet you still said yes when I proposed. Years ago, you and I had threesomes. You've seen me suck dick, you've seen me get fucked, and you've seen me eat cum. I felt like my sexuality was accepted by you, and that everything was OK between us, but I was wrong. Something's not right, and I don't know what it is. I'm not sure what's changed for you."

"OK, so you're bi," she shrugged, avoiding his question. "Whatever. Whether you're bi, gay, or a giraffe, it doesn't make any difference to me."

Oscar was flabbergasted. His jaw dropped to the floor. "OK, well, that says just about everything I needed to hear. It's not just that you don't get it, but that you don't even care. Like, I'm into women, too, Bonnie, I always have been, and I would never have proposed to you if I wasn't. I swear, I've never had sex with another woman since we've been together, even though I've had offers and I've been tempted. I noticed in Sydney that heads sometimes turned when I walked by, which was a nice little ego boost, so I know I'm still at least a little bit attractive, but from you, I get absolutely nothing. So don't pretend this is all my fault, because it isn't."

She didn't deny it, and it cut him to the bone. "All I wanted was for you to be a good dad for our kids," she said, and Oscar suddenly realised they were each on completely different wavelengths.

"I can still do that," he said. "I can still be a good dad. But I can't be a good husband if you're not into me." He paused for a second. "It feels like you wish I was straight, but what good would that do for you if you're not into me anymore?"

Bonnie closed her eyes and rubbed her temples. Maybe he had a point, but right now, she felt overwhelmed. This was too much. "I need to go to bed." She turned on her heel and walked away.

Oscar folded out the temporary bed in their spare room. He'd sleep there tonight. It would've felt weird sleeping next to his wife. While he took a quick shower, Bonnie swallowed some paracetamol. He dried himself, opened the window, and listened to the rain. He climbed into bed naked. It was too hot for clothes tonight.

No sooner had he plugged his phone in than it buzzed.

Billy: hey bro

Oscar smiled.

Oscar: hey

Billy: missing you, just checking in to see how you're doing

Oscar: sleeping in the spare room

Billy: fuck, i thought you might've got one last hetero root in

Oscar chuckled.

Billy: joking!

Oscar: yeah dude i know, i laughed

Billy: why are you in the spare room?

Oscar: because i told her about you

Billy: shit fuck bro im so sorry

Oscar: had to happen though hey

There was a pause in communication, and for a second, Oscar's doubts began to resurface. He was gonna be left with nothing. Billy was gone. He could feel it in his bones.

Billy: tell me about your spare room, sexy cunt

A very relieved Oscar began to reply.

Oscar: well, there's nothing on the walls, there's basically just a foldout bed that we keep for guests, i've never slept in here before, it's hot tonight but i reckon it might get cold in here in winter ... it's pissing down pretty hard outside right now

Billy: out on the patio, we sit

Oscar: and the humidity, we breathe

Billy: we watch the lightning crack over canefields

Oscar: laugh and think, this is australia

Billy: raining up here too, bro. fuck im missing u so fucking bad right now

Oscar: where r u

Billy: back in newtown, Ali's spare room is still empty

Oscar's thumbs danced across the screen. He paused, deleting what he was about to say. A silence fell. He changed tack.

Oscar: have u heard from her

Billy: yeah so she's up in brissie and im missing her but im missing you even more bruh

Oscar nearly wept. He didn't want to be here anymore.

Oscar: missing you too

Billy: *cries*

Oscar: *thinks about your beautiful freckles*

Billy: are my freckles really my best feature?

Oscar: no, but maybe they're the most obvious ... when you stepped up to me at bate club, your freckles were the first thing i noticed

Billy: so what's my best feature, then, cunt?

Oscar: wait a second ... first, what's mine?

Billy: too many things to count -- your shaggy haircut, your dark eyes, your cute butt cheeks, your sweet puss, your sixpack, your conversation, your cock, the way you carry yourself, your open arms, your attitude, your coolness ... ok so now what's MY best feature?

Oscar: everything, dude. like, seriously, i love everything about you.

Billy: serious, bruh?

Oscar: yeah, serious.

Billy: i love you so fkn much

Oscar: i love u too

There was a short pause in conversation.

Billy: i wondered if my feelings might've changed once you went away, oscy, but they haven't

Oscar: it's been less than a week since we met

Billy: i know, i counted this afternoon, we've known each other for five nights

Oscar: four

Billy: five if you count tonight, but yeah like whatever i mean it's still batshit fkn crazy hey

Oscar: i'm in the dog kennel of our house, a room i've never slept in before, thinking this isn't the place for me anymore and i'm thinking how does a decade of passionless suburbia stack up against half a week of feeling like i've been plugged into a power grid

Billy: don't know

Oscar: she doesn't love me ... i'm just a dad for the kids and someone who brings home an income

Billy didn't reply, and for a second, Oscar wondered if he'd gone away.

Oscar: i don't wanna be here

Billy: so come back up ... there'll be a bus tomorrow, right?

Oscar: would you want me to?

Billy: dont be such a dumbfuck bruh

Oscar smiled.

Oscar: but it's not that easy ...

Billy: i know ... kids and families and shit ...

Oscar: hey can i ring you?

Billy dialled, and suddenly, the boys were speaking.

"Hey," said Oscar.

"Hey, Oscy. Miss you," replied Billy.

"Me too," whispered the Canberran. "Fuck, dude, shit's brutal as fuck down here." He paused for a moment, listening to the sound of Billy's sweet breath in his ear. "What are you doing right now?"

"Got my dick in my hand, mate, thinkin' about you."

Oscar gasped. He felt blood rushing to the tip of his cock.

"What about you?" came Billy's polite inquiry. "What are you up to?"

"Fuck, dude, I'm just fishing mine out too. Wish I could touch yours."

"I wish you could too, bruh." Billy paused. "What would you do? Like, if you were here with me, in my room?"

Oscar felt his cock throb.

"Tell me what you'd do," insisted Billy.

"I'd lick my fingers and tickle the tip of your dick." He'd never had phone sex with a guy before -- fuck, he'd never had phone sex with anyone -- but right now, his whole body pulsed with excitement.

"Fuck yeah," seethed the redhead. "Then what?"

"Are your pants all the way down, or is your dick poking out of your fly?"

"Pants are down, dude. They're on the floor. Access all areas, bruh, but just hands."

OK, thought Oscar, those are the boundaries. "I'd give your balls a bit of a tug and a squeeze with my other hand, then I'd tickle your sweet pussy. I'd hear you moan, and I'd feel your thighs part just a little wider, inviting me. I'd spit on my hand and force myself inside your cunt." He heard Billy sigh. "I'm fucking your hole with my fingers right now. Can you feel it?"

"Yeah," Billy breathed. "Then what?"

Oscar's cock was erect, but he wasn't touching himself. He was focused solely on what he'd do to Billy, if only he was still up in Sydney. "I'd drool spit on your dick and start stroking your shaft. I'd feel you growing in my hand. I'd lick my lips, but only just to tease you."

"Fuck, dude," whispered Billy.

"Does my mouth look good? Do you wish I had my lips wrapped around the head of your dick?"

"Yeah."

"And do you wish you could lift your hips up off your bed and fuck my face?"

"Bro, this is ..."

"Yeah, dude," Oscar replied. "I know that's what you want."

The boys fell silent for a second. Oscar guessed Billy's strokes were slow and wet.

"I've got both hands on your dick now. Can you feel them?"

"Yeah."

"One of my hands smells like your pussy. My fingers are rubbing across your engorged purple head, smearing puddles of your thick precum up and down your cock. I take my hand away and lick my palm, tasting your precum and smelling the spicy tang of your puckered hole on my fingertips. My grip on your shaft is loose and wet, and as I look up at you, your eyes are closed."

Billy's mind spun with lust. "Then what happens," he squeaked.

"I'm wishing I could suck you, eat your pussy, whatever. My mouth is so fucking hungry for you, but I know I can't have you."

"I want you to suck me," pleaded Billy. "Like, I wanna fuck your throat so fuckin' bad."

"You made the rules, mate. Just hands."

Billy was just about to bust. "But Oscy, I ..."

"I pick up the pace," Oscar interrupted, "stroking you hard and fast. My grip is tight now. Your back arches, and I know what's about to happen. I stop stroking, squeezing your shaft tighter, tighter, even tighter. You can't cum yet."

"Fuck, bro," Billy moaned, jets of sperm arcing high into the air. "I just did." His stomach was soaked.

"You came?" asked Oscar.

"Yeah, dude, it's fuckin' everywhere. I went off like a fuckin' sprinkler on a footy field."

"I wish I was there to help you clean up."

Billy was already on the job. A puddle of semen had splashlanded on his chest. He scooped it up with his fingers and devoured it. "Fuck, bro," he said, savouring the taste, "that was fuckin' intense. I only wish it was longer. You made me bust too soon."

"Oh, so it's *my* fault, is it?" Oscar teased.

The boys fell silent for a moment.

"Are you hard right now, Oscy?" asked the Sydneysider.

"What would you do to me if I was?" came Oscar's cryptic reply.

"Swallow you whole." Billy paused. "Like, there'd be nothing left of you once I was done with you."

Oscar's mind exploded. His dick nearly exploded, too. "No, wait ... same rules. Only hands."

"You touchin' yourself right now?" Billy asked.

"Yeah, but they're not my hands, mate ... they're yours."

"No, bro, like if you've learned anything about me by now, it's that I don't make the rules, I break 'em."

Oscar's cock stood rigid.

"I pull your pants down. You're naked from the waist down, but you're still wearing a t-shirt. Your shaggy hair is falling across your eyes, and you push it back. I'm checkin' out your abs and your sixpack, rubbing my hands across your toned stomach, thinkin' how the fuck did I get so lucky to land a sexy fuckin' stud like you. I smile at you, and you smile back."

Oscar couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"I push your legs back," Billy continued, "exposing your sweet hole, and I fuckin' go to town. My face is all up in your cunt, you can feel my tongue scraping across your sphincter, and I feel you twitching on my face. I tell you to tease your nipples, and you do what I say."

"Oh my fucking god," breathed the half-Latino.

"I suck one of your nuts into my mouth, then the other. I know what's inside 'em, and I want it."

Oscar was right on the edge. Billy's mouth was filthy.

"I'm a boy who knows how to get what he wants, and I want your load. My mouth is on you, your shaft is deep in my throat, and I'm tickling your nuts with my tongue. You know I can deepthroat you good, Oscy; I've done it before, and I'm doing it again now. Can you feel the tip of my tongue teasing your ballsack as you fuck my mouth?"

Oscar felt it building up.

"I stick my fingers back inside your puss, find your button, and ..."

"Fuuuuuuuuuuck!" moaned Oscar as thick rivers of sperm oozed out of his cock, drenching his knuckles, pooling around the base of his stomach.

"You busted?" asked Billy.

It felt like fireworks were going off in the base of Oscar's brain. "Bro, that was ... that was ... like, that was ... intense."

"You gonna eat it?"

Oscar had never felt quite so hungry for his own cum before. "Eating it now. It's all over my knuckles. I'm licking it off my hand."

"Good boy," Billy cooed.

For a moment or two, no words passed between them, but neither wanted to break their connection.

"I wish I had someone to sleep next to," Billy confessed.

Oscar looked around the drab spare room he was occupying tonight. "Same."

"Come back up?" asked a hopeful Billy.

"I can't. There's heaps of shit to go through with the missus, my job is here, and ..."

"Yeah, I know," the redhead interrupted. "I know there's lots on your plate." He paused. "I'm just missing you, that's all."

"I'm missing you too. I wish you were here with me."

The boys spent the next ten minutes talking about sport.

"You got any plans to come back up?" asked Billy.

"Yeah. Gonna see when bate club's on next. Might be fun to go there with my boyfriend."

Billy's heart swelled. "What did you just say, bro?"

Oscar's mouth felt dry. "Are you my boyfriend?"

"Are you mine?" asked the redhead.

"Yeah."

Billy sighed down the line. "I love you so fuckin' much, Oscy."

"I love you too," beamed Oscar.

"Sleep well," Billy wished.

"Yeah. You too, mate. Let's talk again tomorrow?"

"Night," said Billy, finally ending the call. He rolled onto his side, falling asleep as he listened to endless traffic.

Meanwhile, in Canberra, Oscar's eyes were wide. Sleep wouldn't come. There was far too much to think about, and far too many obstacles to negotiate.

It was official. He had wife and a boyfriend.

He listened to the soft summer rain tumbling down outside.

*

Oscar woke up on Sunday morning. He'd hoped to mow the grass today, ideally before it got too hot, but everything was still wet from last night's rain. Hopefully the sun would dry things out during the morning. He got up and made himself a cup of tea. His kids were already parked in front of the TV watching cartoons. They hadn't noticed that mum and dad slept in separate rooms last night.

Bonnie heard his footsteps. She threw the covers off and joined him in the kitchen. He made her a brew. "Did you sleep well?" she asked quietly.

"Took me a while to drift off," Oscar replied. "There's a lot on my mind right now." He paused. "What about you?"

"Kind of the same." She accepted her mug of tea with thanks. "It was weird sleeping alone with you in the house."

"I didn't think you'd want me in there. Not after the conversation we had last night."

Bonnie exhaled, not offering a reply.

They drank their tea.

"Was gonna cut the grass today," said Oscar, "but it rained last night."

Bonnie looked out the window. "Gonna be another hot one today, it'll probably dry out." She finished her tea. "Gonna head out to the supermarket soon."

The family only had one car. "Drop me off at the pool on the way? I feel like a swim. I'll get the bus back." Bonnie knew what this meant -- she'd have to take the kids shopping with her.

Half an hour later, Oscar jumped out of the passenger seat at their local pool. He changed into his Speedos, stowed his bag in a locker, pulled his goggles on and waded into the shallow end. He had a lane to himself. He began swimming, his arms taking slow, long, languid strokes, his feet kicking behind him like pistons. This wasn't just about physical exercise; this was a time for solitude and for thought.

At the deep end, Oscar tumble-turned and swam back down the lane, building up a rhythm. As he tracked the black line beneath him, he remembered last night. Phone sex with Billy was hot. Any lingering doubts about the redhead not being the real deal had completely dissolved, but Oscar wondered how he was gonna make this all work. Wife, kids, mortgage, job ... he felt as if Canberra had woven a web around him that he couldn't easily escape.

Another lap.

He thought about Billy's cock. Pale, smooth, and about six inches long. Maybe a little shorter, perhaps; he'd never measured it, and he didn't have too many other penises to compare it to. He loved the way it smelled. He loved the masculine stink of his ballsack, but more than anything, he loved the feel of Billy's shaft in his mouth. He loved wrapping his tongue around it, feeling it grow, feeling it thicken, feeling it shudder. He loved licking the head as he stroked it, feeling thick puddles of Billy's sweet precum oozing onto his tongue.

Tumble-turn.

The best bit was when he made Billy arch his back. Oscar loved feeling Billy's hands on the back of his head, holding him down, making him swallow. He loved the taste of Billy's sperm as it spewed into his hungry mouth, and a deep, delicious kiss, feeling the stubble on Billy's chin rubbing up against his face, was the icing on the cake.

His palms touched the wall at the shallow end, and Oscar took his goggles off for a breather. He crouched down in the water, letting the ripples cover his shoulders and chest. He thought about his wife. He tried to recall the last time he ate her out. It must've been a year ago since his face was up in her snatch, maybe a little longer than that. He remembered her laying on the bed, her thighs spread passively wide. Oscar wanted to please her with his fingers and tongue, but he didn't even know if he made her climax. It sounded like he did, but it didn't feel genuine, maybe she faked it; maybe she just wanted to go to sleep. Oscar remembered mounting his wife briefly that night and trying to kiss her, but she didn't want to, presumably because his face reeked of her. He buried his head in her neck, came inside her, and rolled off. She sighed, got up, and went to the bathroom.

If he stayed here, his life would be sexless, and probably devoid of passion. His purpose in life would be little more than bringing up kids. That's important, but it's not everything, and the Puerto Rican half of Oscar suddenly came alive: a life without passion and desire is a life not worth living. He needed to end things as delicately and as carefully as he possibly could, and with the least amount of collateral damage, but staying put was not an option.

Oscar swam some more laps. He spent maybe another hour swimming up and back, but now, his mind was still.

*

Later that afternoon, Oscar pushed the lawnmower around the yard. Before stepping out into the sun, he lathered his upper body in sunscreen and donned a wide-brimmed hat. He mowed shirtless, and as Bonnie watched him from inside their air-conditioned kitchen, she noticed his pecs, biceps and abs. She knew her husband was in great shape -- from time to time, her female friends had said the same thing -- but nothing downstairs tingled for her. She watched him work as she sipped a cool glass of orange juice. She wanted to feel something from watching him, but nothing happened.

Their kids were sitting at the kitchen table, colouring in. She joined them for a few moments, helping. Later, she took a cool glass of lemonade out to her husband.

"Thanks," said Oscar, accepting the refreshing drink. "Hot today."

"Yard looks good," Bonnie offered. "I reckon it's missed you."

Oscar glanced sideways at her. Their kids had missed him, their property had missed him, but seemingly not so much his wife. "Yeah, maybe," he said. He finished his drink and handed the empty glass back to her. "Thanks again."

"You nearly done?"

"Yeah, I think so," replied Oscar. He walked away, preparing to complete the job.

Later, after showering, he sat in front of the TV watching the cricket. It'd been a good day -- exercise done, tasks completed: the only thing missing was Billy. For the sake of their kids, he and Bonnie pretended everything was normal, even though it wasn't.

It was Sunday night, but Oscar still had one more week away from work. He'd planned to spend it at home in Canberra, but he wasn't so sure anymore.

*

The kids were in bed. Oscar sat at the kitchen bench, a can of beer in front of him. Bonnie nursed a glass of wine. "This isn't gonna work out for me," he said.

Bonnie gulped. "What about the house and the kids?"

Oscar expected her to fight him, to plead with him, to beg for him to stay, but she didn't. "We'll work something out," he said. "Are you OK?"

"No," she sobbed. "I watched you working today," said his wife, wiping her eyes. "Your body is amazing, and I totally get why people look at you, because you're fucking hot. But something inside me feels like it's switched off, and I don't know why. I should be so totally into you. I should be grateful to have someone like you in my life. I should feel lucky to have someone like you, but I don't, and I don't know why."

Oscar wondered if his wife needed some help he couldn't give. His heart broke for her. Or maybe sex just wasn't a big thing for her anymore. Maybe it once was, before she poured her heart into her kids and her house, taking her husband for granted without ever meaning to. Maybe she assumed he'd always be there for her. He watched her bottom lip tremble.

"Maybe sex just doesn't push my buttons anymore. I swear I'm not having an affair, and I haven't ever cheated on you, but I'm just not into it anymore. I get that it's important to you, and I know I can't be everything to you, or everything for you," she stammered, "but I'm terrified I'm gonna lose you."

Oscar swallowed hard, not knowing what to say next.

"Please don't leave me, Oscy," she pleaded. "I don't care if ... I don't care if you're bi, I don't even care if you're gay, I don't care if you wanna fuck all the boys in town, just ... please don't ... please don't ... I don't know what I'd do without you ..."

"But I love him," Oscar cried.

"You've only known him for a week!" she breathed. "Doesn't this all feel too soon?"

"I know what you mean," Oscar replied, trying his best to remain level-headed. "It sounds insane, and I'm not the kind of bloke who takes risks, but something clicked into place. Something feels right." He paused, reflecting on what he'd just said. "I honestly can't think of any other way to explain it."

"But he doesn't even live here!" protested Bonnie. "You both live in different cities! How the fuck are you gonna make something work with him and still be here for me and the kids?"

"I ... I don't know." Oscar's shoulders slumped.

Bonnie felt desperate. "You reckon you love him, but ... but ... don't you love me, too?"

"Of course I do."

"Then ... then why leave? Stay here with me." She paused in desperation, wiping her eyes again. "Please? I love you so much, Oscy. Maybe I can't show you with my body, but I can still show you with my heart and with my mind."

For a second, Oscar imagined a universe in which his wife, his boyfriend and himself lived together. It would've solved every problem, it would've ticked every box, and yet it felt impossible. "I don't know what to do," he admitted. Deep in his heart, he knew what he wanted -- he wanted Billy -- but to be with him, he'd need to lose Bonnie somehow, and he couldn't find a way to make that happen. Especially not right now. He felt like a man torn in half. "I'm tired. I need some sleep. I'll sleep in the spare room again."

Bonnie wrapped her arms around his neck, claiming him, possessing him. "I want you to sleep beside me, Oscy." Before kissing him on the cheek, she looked deep into his eyes. "I love you."

"I love you too," he replied.

She didn't know it, but the way he loved her now was completely different. Not knowing, she took his words at face value. She retreated to their bedroom.

"I need to brush my teeth," he said.

Oscar attended to his dental hygiene. Three minutes later, having rinsed and wiped his mouth, he closed their bedroom door behind him. His wife lay naked under a thin cotton sheet. He could see the curve of her tits as they bent the fabric northward, and he saw her fingers teasing herself ...

"Stop," he said.

"What? But Oscy, I ..."

The room fell silent.

"I want you to fuck me, Oscy. You can have my arse if you want it ..."

"Stop!" Oscar raised his voice slightly, hoping he didn't wake their kids.

"But this is what you want, right?" Her voice was thick with desperation, and it made Oscar feel cheap.

"No," he said. "Not like this. And I know *you* don't want this either."

Bonnie stopped.

"Would this have happened last week? Would this have happened before I went to Sydney?"

Bonnie knew the answer. Her efforts were too little and too late. Their sex life was officially over.

"I think I'm gonna sleep in the spare room again," he said, closing their bedroom door behind him.

"Oscy, please, no ..." He heard her wracking sobs. She knew it was over.

He lay down on the sparse mattress in the spare room. No sooner had he pulled the cotton sheet over his torso than this phone buzzed.

Billy: hey sexy

Oscar: dude i can't ... not right now ... she's crying her eyes out

There was no response.

Oscar: like i don't fucking know what happens from here

Again, no response, and suddenly, Oscar felt desolate and alone.

Oscar: are you there?

Billy: im here, Oscy, im just not sure what to say

Oscar: tell me something reassuring

Billy: i love you

Oscar: i love you too, but i'm so fucking stuck right now

Billy: give it time

Oscar: i'm not due back at work for another week, maybe i could come back up

Billy: fuck yeah!

Oscar: wait but it's gonna be weird for the kids and it'll be another week where she has to manage everything and she's already a fucking wreck because of all this and besides i haven't saved up enough money for another week in a hotel

Billy: there's a spare room in our house but maybe you could sleep in my room next to me

Oscar didn't reply.

Billy: and you know the neighbourhood already

Oscar: but won't you be at work next week?

Billy: maybe, or maybe not ... its been a wet summer, its hard to make headway on building sites during weather like this, plus im hearing there's been an unseasonable outbreak of covid that might keep me in bed, and if that happens, i might need some help

Oscar: what kind of help?

Billy: the usual, like helping me out of bed, guiding me to the bathroom, holding my cock and pointing it at the bowl as i piss

Oscar: nobody wants to make a mess, do they

Billy: nup

Oscar: if covid erupts again, i reckon i could help you with that

Billy: id love to feel your hand on my cock as i piss

Oscar heard his wife's sobs reverberate around the house.

Oscar: dude i'm so fucking into you but she's really upset

Billy knew there'd be no phone sex tonight.

Billy: yeah totally mate i get it ... maybe go help her out

Oscar: yeah probably a good idea

Billy: night mate

Oscar: night

Oscar got out of bed, left the spare room, and knocked on her bedroom door. "Come in," she said, and within seconds, his cock was balls-deep in her cunt. She sighed, feeling him bottom out inside her. Almost instantly, she came, her clit twitching as he dominated her.

Oscar's muscular torso towered above her, ploughing the field he once owned. He said no words. He fucked her like he loved her and hated her in equal measure. His face was a scowl.

He fucked her hard; she moaned. She touched herself, busting on her fingers, juices trickling down her thigh. He fucked her relentlessly.

He got close, and he did something he hadn't done in years. He pulled out and jacked himself off all over her face. He had no idea whether her crescent was still fertile, but he wasn't about to take the chance. The last thing they needed right now was another mouth to feed. He decided to feed hers instead.

"No," she pleaded.

"Yes," he replied.

Bonnie's eyes clenched tight as she realised what was about to happen. She knew how badly semen in the eyes stung, and she didn't want to spend the next twenty minutes rinsing her face under the sink. Instinctively, she threw a protective hand up to protect her eyes from impact, but luckily, most of her husband's sperm landed on her cheeks and her neck. As Oscar lay down beside her, she wiped his DNA off her face. Luckily for her, none of it had infiltrated her mouth. "Stay here?" she whispered, balling wet tissues in her fist and tossing them onto the carpet.

Oscar felt conflicted, confused and completely exhausted, worried that fucking his wife might've made his situation ten times worse. He lay on his back, staring at the ceiling, eventually falling asleep. He began to snore, and Bonnie gave him a gentle nudge. Half-sleepy, he rolled onto his side. Facing the window, he fell into a dreamless slumber.