Facing His Past (True Story) Pt 2

I needed to trip; to be touched, to end the sexual torture that had consumed my evening. I whimpered and cried when I felt his hand move over my stomach until he stroked me in rhythm to his thrusting, which wasn’t as fast as I needed to achieve the quick release I was dying for.

Part 1


My fabulous weekend plans with the DONNAS were cancelled after I was asked to pull two extra night shifts at the hospital, which were much quieter than day shifts but positively exhausting. Most of the time, I kept tabs on vitals and made sure the kiddos were comfortable and nausea-free.

I barely remembered Monday, since most of it existed in my dreams. That was until I had to pull myself out of bed long enough to make my way to practice, which I was twenty minutes late for. It was probably for the best because I was too tired and exhausted to deal with Shane’s excessive need to tear me down. I did miss some of his teammates, though. Shane might’ve been a world class jerk, but Kurt, Drew, and Aaron were cool dudes and we got along well.

After practice, I was looking forward to going back to sleep, and had no intentions of returning to the land of the living until my shift the next day. Unfortunately, my lack of attendance the weekend before had not gone unnoticed. We were walking to the parking lot when the DONNAS ambushed me. As he galloped past me, Olie announced.

“DONNAS night at your house tonight!”

I started to groan, but it was interrupted by my own ginormous yawn. I was freaking tired!

“Not tonight, my loves. I’m going home to sleep. I’m still exhausted from this weekend.”

I knew if they really wanted to push it, there was nothing I could do to stop them from coming over. Luckily, it looked as if they were in a gracious mood, so I needed to seize the moment and offer a carrot.

“What if we go out after the game? I have Friday and Saturday off, so I was thinking we could go to Rafen’s.”

I could see the squeals happening before I heard them. It was like a collective inhale from the entire group before they erupted into a surprisingly high pitch squeal followed by a lot of jumping and hugging. That kind of happiness is so contagious, I couldn’t help but join in, regardless of how exhausted I was. We jumped, screamed, hugged, and spent two minutes in pure, uninhibited happiness.

“Boi’s night!”

Everyone echoed in return.

“Boi’s night!”

I was happy to have plans with the guys for Friday, and I was excited those plans were at Rafen’s. I don’t often engage in casual sex, (key word is often, not never), but I was really needing some extra attention.

I wanted a night of being approached by men, letting them shower me with drinks and praise, taking one lucky son-of-a-bitch home, and having wild and crazy sex. In my head, it was going to be wild and crazy, but in reality, I was hoping for some decent sex.

I know that sounds terrible, but let’s face it, it’s not often you actually get mind blowing sex with a total stranger—especially after a night of drinking. So the plan was Rafen’s, super-hot guy, and some fucking decent sex, which meant my Wednesday hair appointment also needed to include the full body maintenance plan.

*** *** *** ***

I was lying on the table and breathing harder and feeling worse than I did when I ran seven miles the week before.

“What did I ever do to you, Debbie? Why are you being such a bitch?”

Certain things in life get easier as you become accustomed to them, but having every hair follicle mercilessly pulled out from your sensitive areas, does not! I swear, in the past, Debbie had been far gentler. It’s as if the bitch didn’t care anymore. Maybe she thinks, because I’m gay, I won’t care if she ruins my junk. Well, newsflash, Debbie! I quite like my junk fully intact, you psycho.

“Calm down. We’re almost done and then your entire body will be as smooth as a baby’s bottom.”

“Easy for you to say. I was planning on having sex Friday night, but I doubt I’ll be able to coax my balls down from their eternal hiding place by then. Everything’s so traumatized.”

I’ve never been hairy, and what little hair I had on my chest was so awkward, I started shaving years ago. I switched to waxing because it was more convenient and lasted longer. I also had some laser treatments, but I got lazy.

Deep, relaxing, breaths. Breathe in—HOLY F&%#@! *insert momentary loss of any semblance of coherency

“Alrighty! All done here. Go ahead and get dressed, and let’s give you a haircut so you can get out of here.”

I sat there for a moment and cupped my privates. I don’t know why, but I’ve always felt the need to apologize to them after getting waxed. ‘I’m so sorry I violated and abused you. I love you and nothing will change that.’ It was a simple, little pep talk in hopes to regain favor so I could get it up and working by Friday.

I’d been dreaming about having all of the average sex I could handle and I didn’t want permanent deflation getting in the way. After I’d properly apologized, I got dressed and went to the chair for my bi-weekly haircut.

As she snapped the cape around my neck and turned me away from the mirror, she asked.

“The usual?”

“Pretty much. Only the one part line this time. Other than that, same ol’, same ol’.”

She hadn’t been working on my hair for too long before I heard the door ding, indicating someone was coming in. It was normal for people to come in and out beings it was a busy salon with a dozen stylists doing their thing but, of course, it couldn’t be that simple. I glanced up and, before I saw him, I already knew he was there. I just knew it! It’s self-defense 101—’know where your enemy is at all times’.

Down the center of the salon were two rows of chairs sitting back to back. It was a convenience offered so if you brought a guest (kids, family, or friends) in with you, they could sit and be near you. It was a solid idea when executed for its purpose, and one I’d used many times when any of the DONNAS tagged along.

However, rat bastard is not my friend, or even an acquaintance, so why he decided to sit down directly in front of me was one of my life’s biggest mysteries. Without trying to hide my lack of amusement regarding his seat placement and also not willing to step down, I asked.

“Can I help you?”

His smile was somewhere between genuine and sinister. He took his hat off and ran his fingers through his chestnut hair in an effort to plump the matted mess and also casually point out the reason for his visit.

“Nope. Only waiting to get my hair cut.”

“Such a shame. Your hair is your best feature. Once you cut it off you’ll have nothing going for you.”

Except dat ass, those thighs, your smoking hot body, and ruggedly handsome face. It’s too bad your personality stinks worse than my game-day socks, asshole.

At that moment, Debbie started brushing the loose hairs away from my neck before tearing the cape off and letting me check myself in the mirror. Normally, I’d do a thorough once over, but this time I decided to bail as quickly as possible. I was sure my hair was fine because Debbie had been doing a wonderful job for years. I pulled out a hundred dollar bill for the cut and waxing and set it on her counter while confirming my appointment in two weeks.

I gave Shane a mock salute and turned to Debbie one last time before turning to leave the salon.

“Careful, Debbie. Bad company corrupts good character.”

As I reached the door, Debbie grabbed my attention.

“Hey, D!”

With my hand prepared to push the door open, I turned to see what she needed.

“Try and let all of them down easy.”


The confusion on my face was easily readable and she chuckled ever so slightly.

“All of the guys that don’t make the cut on Friday, yeah? No need for a sea of broken hearts Saturday morning.”

I was prepared for a half dozen responses, but that wasn’t one of them, and I definitely laughed a little too hard at her response.

“Oh, Deb, no promises. Once I find mister hot body, I’ll be too busy to worry about the ones that got away. But don’t worry, they’ll survive.”

Movement caught my eye and I saw Shane staring at me with one brow raised as he listened to our conversation. I had momentarily forgotten he was there. I pointed in his direction and continued.

“He can pick up my leftovers—rats are good at stuff like that.”

I winked in his direction. It wasn’t a friendly wink, but the type of wink that’s equivalent to flipping someone off. He silently chuckled and was about to say something, a retort of sorts I’m sure, but I cut him off.

“Ta ta!”

I offered a loose wave to anyone who cared and left the door, and Shane’s nasty comment, swinging behind me. I really despised that guy and hated the fact he kept popping up in my life. The drive to the market was spent trying to figure out how I was going to handle him.

I mean, baseball had recently started, and we had all summer left, so he wasn’t going to simply disappear. I finally realized I wasn’t going to do anything. He was a thrill seeker, a guy who got off by watching other people’s reactions, and I had played perfectly into it, too.

I wasn’t going to react anymore—I was either going to completely ignore him or kill him with kindness. It was going to be the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life, but I stopped being a pushover a long time ago. I had to remind myself it didn’t mean I was a pushover, but simply, I was going to rise above the pushing. However, first, I was going to kick his team’s ass and, by extension, his ass—dat ass.

*** *** *** ***

I’d been very busy with the extra work shifts—on top of my already full schedule—plus baseball, that I hadn’t been grocery shopping for over a week. I had to resort to eating takeout all of Tuesday and breakfast consisted of coffee and a sugar laden pastry. I was starving, bloated, and desperate for real food.

Grocery shopping on an empty stomach is trash. All of my energy reserves were spent trying not to stuff my cart with bagels, chips, and all of the junk I didn’t want but was craving because of my excessive hunger. I decided to stay away from the center aisles and do a quick shop around the perimeters until I could shop when my blood sugar levels were at a normal range.

The outcome was an inedible amount of produce. I’m but one man, what was I thinking? I knew most of it would go to waste and, for a moment, I thought I should return some of it, but maybe a fruit and veggie cleanse wouldn’t be such a bad idea.

My jeans were uncomfortably tight and I had only forty-eight hours before I was going to be on display at the hottest gay club in the county. I figured I should definitely hit the gym, after I eat, and sweat the bloat out.

I was half way through the checkout process when I realized I’d forgotten my reusable bags. The county had passed a new bag ban law that year. Stores were no longer allowed to give bags away, so you had to take your own or buy them—waste not, what not and such.

Unfortunately for me, not all of my shopping trips were well thought out, which meant I almost never remembered my bags. Usually, I only had an armful of groceries anyway, but that day, I had a lot. The stubborn part of me refused to spend two dollars on the bags they sell to forgetful fools like me.

Of course, the store was crazy busy and the line behind me was huge.

Of course! Fuck me!

I looked at the cashier with the most pathetic puppy dog face I could manage.

“I forgot my bags. I’m going to run really fast and grab them from my car—I’ll be right back?”

I apologetically smiled, with my jaw clenched tight, and she nodded for me to go so I ran! Of course, I’d parked in the back forty, since I thought the extra steps would be beneficial, so I was in full regret mode. Why couldn’t I be more like Sammy and embrace the mantra ‘you only live once’ followed by always taking the closest parking spot?

I unlocked my car during my approach and grabbed the bags from the back of my SUV. Some asshat, in a lifted truck, had parked on my driver’s side so close to my car there was no way I’d be able to squeeze through.

The frustrating part was the fact there were no other cars around so they could have parked anywhere, but they’d decided seven inches away from my driver side door was going to be their new temporary home. I didn’t have time to think about it too much because there was probably an angry mob of people waiting for me to return and bag my shit up.

I was right, there was a line of impatient people waiting for me. What is it about feeling pressured that makes the task at hand ridiculously difficult? It was as if I couldn’t get anything into the dang bags. It didn’t matter how much I apologized (and I apologized a lot), I felt their annoyed stares burning my skin.

Finally, I finished and, I swear to God, there was an applause as I walked away. It started with a slow clap as I bagged my last two items and finished with a manic round of applause as I reached the exit. Okay, fine, maybe I’m exaggerating a little, but that’s what it felt like.

As I approached my car, I shuffled the bags around so I could grab the keys from my pocket. I stopped dead in my tracks and dropped my head back so I could silently scream my bad luck to the heavens—I’d left my keys in the store at the checkout counter! I took a deep, relaxing breath.


I contemplated lying down and taking a nap in the parking lot—I really needed one at that point. I looked back at the store and, once again, regretted parking so far away. Against my better judgement, I tucked the groceries under my car because I had no desire to take them on another round trip excursion. If someone decided to steal them, then good for them. They must need them more than I.

On my way back for the second time, with my car still a ways off, I decided to use my key-fob as a makeshift wand and waved it around as I excessively unlocked my car. In my head, I embraced my inner Harry Potter and silently shouted as I hit unlock.


Voila! The magic worked and my car was unlocked. Soon, my magic wand turned into a baton, and I was the conductor of the Trans-Siberian Orchestra as I led them in my favorite Christmas song ever, “Christmas Eve Sarajevo”. It was hard not to get into that song because it was so intense and amazing, and it sent chills down my spine every time I listened to it. I’m not ashamed to say it’s the only Christmas song I listened to all year round.

By the time I reached my car, I was torn between continuing as the conductor and showcasing my electric guitar or piano solo abilities. Maybe I’d do both, but then there were the drums, too, and they’d be a pretty spectacular show, also. Maybe I’d be one of those monkeys that walked around with that musical contraption and then I’d be able to do it all.

“Bum ba-da-ba bum. Bum ba-da-ba bum.”

“What are you doing?”

My whole body jolted as I was startled from my inner musical debate. After I turned around to see who was watching me, my eyes fell upon Shane. That rat bastard! I had to remind myself I wasn’t going to react or say anything rude. Ignore him or kill him with kindness. Was it actually possible to kill someone with kindness? Because if it was so, that would’ve been all of the motivation I needed.


I opened the hatch and started loading my groceries as he did the same.

As it turned out, that rat bastard was the douchie parking job guy. Go figure.

“It didn’t look like nothing. It definitely looked like you were having a seizure. For a minute there, I thought I was going to have to call nine-one-one.”

He’s such a jerk. I gritted my teeth in an effort to remain calm.

“Nope, all good.”

I saw the coloring book I had bought for work—I usually kept a small bag of goodies to randomly hand out to the kids. I grabbed it, closed the hatch, leaned against my car, and impatiently stared at the rat bastard.


He looked unsure about the attention. I don’t think he was prepared for me to give him my full and undivided attention. I smiled and stepped toward him with the coloring book held out in front of me. His eyes flickered between me and the book.

“You seem to have a hard time staying in the lines. I thought you could use this book to practice. Go slow and I’m sure you’ll do a wonderful job. Now, if you could be a darling, I’d like to go home.”

I used my hand to shoo him away. He had a small smile as he looked at the book, which was in his possession by then, and lifted it slightly in acknowledgment.

“Perfect. I’ll do that.”

With that, he disappeared and I heard his door open and close a moment later. Thank God. I only wanted to go home. I was wondering why he hadn’t started his truck, yet, when he re-appeared in front of me.

“Actually, I’ve decided I have a few more things I need to do, first. I’ll see you around, Gor-Dee.”

He really enunciated the two syllable word as he walked away and left me to crawl through my passenger door. I thought about ways I could kill him with kindness, such as kindly pushing him off of a rooftop or kindly suffocating him in his sleep.

*** *** *** ***

It was Friday and the long awaited game was thirty minutes away. I’d gotten there early to go over the songs with my friend who had access to the sound system. By the time I’d finished, both teams were filtering in for warm-ups. Ss I passed through, I ran into Kurt, Drew, and Aaron and they all smiled and waved as I approached. As always, Drew was the first to start the playful trash talking.

“So, today we find out who will continue, undefeated, and who will go home as la-hoo-za-hers!”

“Well, this is only the third game, so I’d hardly make it out to be a big deal, but we can make it interesting if you want.”

Of course the game was a big deal, at least to my team, but I wasn’t going to acknowledge it. The three men looked at each other and smiled. When Kurt crossed his arms and grinned at me, I knew they weren’t about to step down from a good gentleman’s wager.

“Okay, Gordy. What do you have in mind?”

“After we win, you three come clubbing with us tonight and you each buy a round of drinks.”

“And if we win?”

I laughed, crossed my arms, and mirrored their stance.

“You won’t but if lightning strikes in your favor, that’ll mean you beat a team full of fairy queens, and I wouldn’t exactly go around bragging about that.”

I tried to maintain my composure, but eventually their laughing was too much, and I had to join in. I loved the fact they were three, big, athletic men that had no qualms about their masculinity or the DONNAS. We’d actually struck up a decent friendship, of sorts, between practices.

“Okay, but if we win, you six come with us to our bar of choice tonight, and you buy us drinks.”

I actually had to think about it for a minute because I had legit plans to get laid and I doubted ‘their bar’ was going to be very cohesive to that process.

“Sure. You just gave me all of the motivation I need to win because I have very specific plans for tonight. Have any of you guys ever been wingman for a gay guy?”

Knowing what I meant, they all smiled and shook their heads no.

“Well, tonight you’re going to learn! Cheerio, cheris.”

I waved goodbye and left them laughing amongst themselves. Poor heteros, they had no idea what was about to happen.

*** *** *** ***

By the time we reached the fifth (and final) inning, both teams were sweating. They were up by two and we were up to bat. If we couldn’t get three or more runs, the game would be over. I wasn’t too worried, though. The heteros on the team were working hard, but we, the DONNAS, hadn’t come close to using our full potential. I’d been hanging back, mostly in the outfield and batting only enough to get me to base, and waiting for the right moment.

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1 thoughts on “Facing His Past (True Story) Pt 2

  1. Alex says:

    I sure hope there’s a third chapter with hot sex. There was 1-3/4 chapters of BS and 1/4 chapter of sex. Not even good sex. There were no blow jobs, no foot licking, no ass eating (I’m sure you get it). Shane gets a cold finger, I asume is lube and sticks his cock in. There just has to be more without all this girly shit.

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