Sven always scared me a little. He was a tall blond beast of a man, a dour Swede with no sense of humor at all. He had a history of drunken brawls and drunken driving that spanned the county and went back a couple of decades to his teenage years. He was pretty much the “turned out bad” boy in our part of the country. Mothers used him as a bad example to warn their sons off alcohol and late nights. But on that particular day he had very fortuitous timing. He knocked at my door on a Saturday morning when I was up early, drinking coffee and staring at the rolls of wallpaper in my living room with a resentful scowl. I couldn’t remember what possessed me to buy the shit. I hated papering walls. I was wondering if I could still get a refund and just paint when he knocked. Sven never kept a regular job. He made the rounds of all the local households looking for odd jobs and yard work. He’d been to my house before but I’d never hired him. Hell, I was almost afraid to answer the buzzer when I saw his spiky blond hair in the glass panel set high in the door. Oh, well. I really did need some help if I was gonna get this shit up on the walls. “Hey, Sven. How you doing?” “Morning, Mr. Bellew. Hope I didn’t wake you up or nothing ... I know it’s early but I saw your lights on...”, he glanced down at my velour bathrobe. “I was, you know, just looking for work, if you, uh?” He didn’t look hopeful. As a matter of fact, he looked pretty damn hopeless. He hadn’t shaved in a couple of days and his sleeveless plaid shirt could have come from a rag bin. His high top work shoes flopped open at the top to show sockless feet and his blue cotton work pants were split at the knees and most every seam. He ducked his head away from my examination. I’d never seen him more meek and reserved. He was getting past the age of youthful recklessness, moving quickly towards purely wasted life. Something in my hesitation gave him a clue and he looked back into my face with wide blue eyes. “I’ll do anything, Mr. Bellew. You know? Just, well, I’m hungry and I been broke all week. I ain’t drink nothing in two days, I swear. I’d do anything you want just for eating money.” There was a quiet desperation in his voice, a shyness that recognized the seriousness of such an offer to me when he knew damn well I was gay and single. He couldn’t hold his eyes on mine; he ducked his head again while I studied his face. Possibilities flickered through my imagination but I wanted, more than anything right then, to get the paper on the damn walls! “Okay, come on inside. I made some coffee, you want some?” “Yeah, sure! I could use some.” His mood perked up considerably. His eyes came back up with their startling blue openness and he scratched under one massive shoulder. The hair in his underarm flashed, pale and gold as his head. “Come on back to the kitchen, I’m ready for a refill, too.” I led the way and he followed close behind. When I paused in the kitchen doorway, he put out his hand, steadied himself on my back to keep from bumping into me, he looked past me to the stove. “You got anything to eat? I sure am hungry, Mr. Bellew!” “Well ... I can fix you something, I guess. Sit down”, I pointed at the breakfast table. “You like bacon and eggs? Cereal, what do you like?” “Anything. Don’t matter. Just meat and bread is okay. My stomach is growling up a storm!” He grimaced with what passed for a grin on his stern face. The hollow cheeks pulled back and lifted the corners of his wide mouth. Reminded me of a wolf’s snarl! Not an expression to inspire confidence. I wondered if the guy had ever done that in front of a mirror! Shit! He ate like a wolf, too. He shoveled in food and gulped it down with greedy desperation. I’d never gone two days without eating, hell; I’d never gone eight hours without eating! A full stomach agreed with him and his expression softened into a relaxed leer. Here I was cooking his breakfast and serving him in my little robe and still hadn’t told him what I wanted him to do. I guessed he thought I wanted him to serve me up some of his huge masculinity. He had that look of a man who’s in charge. I tightened my robe about me and cinched the belt. He made me feel suddenly naked. “I’m really glad you came by, today, Sven. Have you ever hung wallpaper? I hate doing it and still don’t know why I started the whole thing but I’ve got the paper and the paste and everything ...” “Sure. No sweat. I can paper a room faster than most guys can paint it. Let me bum a smoke and give me a minute to settle this meal. Maybe another cup of coffee? Then I’ll show you how to gift-wrap a room. No problem!” He smirked, looking overly confident in his skills for a down and out day worker. I hoped he was telling something near the truth. “Matter of fact, I really like hanging paper. It’s what my old man used to do when I was a kid. Did you know that?” “No. I didn’t know. He taught you how?” “Well, sure. He made me help him from the time I was walking. Mom ran off, you know, so he took me around with him on all his jobs. He even kept me out of school until the county made him send me. Then when he got drunk I usually had to go in and finish his jobs and clean up and collect the money. He wasn’t much of a businessman. I used to hate him for that, but now it looks like I turned out just like him.” He gave me an ironic grin, heavily laden with self-contempt. “Maybe not”, I told him. “Maybe you’re just getting even. Maybe you’ll grow up someday, in a way he never did. Yeah. Maybe. I hope so. Nobody comes in behind me to finish up and take care of shit. I got to do it all, that’s for sure.” He leaned back and smoked. “Would you like that? Would you like somebody to take care of you?” He laughed. “I’d make a poor excuse for a lap dog, Mr. Bellew. Don’t get no ideas!” He laughed again at the thought. I grinned with him. “I donno’, Sven. I think you’d clean up pretty handsome. Let me give you a bath and buy you some pretty clothes and pamper you a while. All you’d have to do is lay back and enjoy it. I’d put satin sheets on the bed and beer on tap in the living room. You’d never have to leave the house!” I grinned to show I wasn’t really serious. “And cook for me everyday and tuck me in at night?”, he laughed out loud. “That’s a pretty picture, Mr. B. But you ever heard about biting the hand that feeds you? Well, I’m an expert at that. I’d likely steal your TV the first night and walk out with your credit cards. Don’t even try and domesticate a guy like me, buddy. You pissing up wind! Now show me this paper you done bought.” He got up from the table and rubbed his flat belly. “... and I might take you up on that bath after I get finished, okay? I could sure use it!” He was good. He cut the strips to length on the floor and they always fit and matched, a technique I never learned. I left him to his work and showered. I got dressed in jeans and a tee shirt. I thought about wearing brief red shorts and a tank top but I didn’t think Sven would really appreciate neither the effort nor the effect. I had a nice build, but even offering to show off for him would seem like wasted effort. More than that, it might seem like an insult to him. He was tolerant, but I shouldn’t push his boundaries. Nice that he could laugh about my sexual preferences, even make light of them. That was fresh and welcome in our small town. I suppose he was so far down the social scale he didn’t need to play one-up on me. But I shouldn’t take it for granted. The morning grew brighter and hotter. I turned up the air conditioner and fixed Sven a glass of iced tea. He was half finished by ten and sweating like horse. He held the strips of paper away from his body to keep them from staining. “Hey! Thanks. That looks good.” He lay aside the paper and gulped down the tea, the entire glass poured into his gaping maw, ice cubes and all. He crunched the ice. “Mmm. Great.” He handed me back the empty glass with a smile. “How’s it look?” “Terrific! It’s better than I imagined. You’re really fast. I’d still be cutting around the first corner.” He beamed. “Guess everybody’s good at something. This is about my only talent. Don’t get much chance to do it.” “Do you mind if I stay and watch? Can I give you a hand with anything?” “Sure, watch me. I’d like that. I’m gonna take off my shirt, okay? Not much to look at, you might change your mind about getting me in your bed.” He laughed but there was some shyness in there. His torso was lean and thin and pale as bone. His wide shoulders were angular with bony ridges down his spine. You could count each and every rib. He had missed too many meals for beauty but there was a pang of sympathy I hadn’t expected. He evoked the angst of a Goya painting. His mantle of physical threat seemed to drop away with his shirt. He watched my face for a reaction. I tried to repress any response. “Not built up like you. You work out at the gym, don’t you?” “Not for a while”, I told him. “... I used to. Got lazy this summer...You have a terrific frame, Sven. If you ate more you’d build up in no time. You’re just too damn skinny! Don’t you ever eat anything?” Not the sort of confidence builder I should have been, but I couldn’t keep it back. “Naw, I never eat right. I get to drinking and forget to eat. My looks don’t matter noway, aint nobody to care what I look like, they all know what I am. Who cares? You know?” He turned away and went back to work. In a shaft of sunlight, his skin was translucent and angelic. “It could matter to you, Sven. It’s how you think of yourself that matters, not what other people think. Not too many people admiring my body--let me tell you! But I gotta look at it every day, so I want it the best it can be”, I laughed, “with as little effort as possible, of course! I’m not obsessed with it. I just know I feel better about who I am when I look my best.” “But how do you feel about it? ...” He turned and glanced back, then continued with his cutting. “Does it matter to you if people joke about you and call you a fag? How do you handle that?” “Well, yeah. It matters, I guess. But I can’t stop them. I can’t change their opinion. I know there are a lot of other men just like me, so I’m not really a freak. I’m okay with who I am. I just have to let it go, you know, not worry about it.” “Still hurts, though. Don’t it?” He didn’t look up. “Yeah. It hurts anyway. But I get used to it.” “Ever think maybe you should move away? To where nobody knows? ... Maybe start again, fresh like?” “And be a phony? Lie to everybody? I’d still know, wouldn’t I? I think it’s better to face reality than to try and hide it. At least the life I’ve got is honest. That’s better than a fake respect.” “Couldn’t you change? Couldn’t you marry a woman and learn to be like other men?” Now he looked up, watched me. “No, Sven. It don’t work like that and you know it. I could give up sucking cock, but I’d still be a queer, right?” His face grew more serious. “I could give up drinking but I’d still be a drunk, too. That is, if I could actually quit, anyway.” I laughed, “Yeah, as if I could give up sucking cock for real!” He didn’t laugh. “But do you? Really? It’s a small town, Mr. Bellew. I never see you sneaking around the bars or anywhere. I never seen anybody visit you out here, either. So I was wondering, do you really do it or just think about it?” “Probably think about it more than do it, okay?” My laughter was flat and empty. He didn’t smile. “There are a couple of guys around. Some gay, some not. They just don’t want anybody to know about it. They keep it pretty quiet, you know?” “Like chief Shelton’s drinking? He’s as big a drunk as I am, but he drinks at home and sips from that pocket flask. Thinks nobody knows about it. He’s about a farce!” “Yeah. Everybody knows.” “So why don’t people laugh about him? Why don’t they call him a drunk and slam the door in his face like they do for me?” ... I didn’t have a ready answer. “And how come nobody makes jokes about that priest at the Catholic Church? Anybody can see he’s a sissy. He walks like a girl; he talks like a girl and you know he wouldn’t spit out no dick if you put it in his mouth! But they let their sons go stand up with him and be his helpers, you know. They act like he’s okay and you’re the freak. I don’t understand people, Mr. Bellew, I surely don’t.” “I don’t know, either, Sven. I guess they cut him some slack because he’s trying to be like them and they hate me because I’m honest and go against them.” “Same as with a drunk, I guess. They can’t stand me because I just go with who I am, I don’t fight it or play like I’m not what I am.” “But you have a choice, man! You could quit and get over it! You’re a young man, buddy. You got your whole life ahead of you ... ” He turned, sat down on the floor and grinned up at me. “You really believe that, Mr. Bellew?” His smile faded. “You’re as bad as all the others. I thought you’d understand.” “But drinking is gonna kill you, Sven! Can’t you even ...” “This is real nice paper. Where’d you buy it? You order it special?” He went back to work. I stood still and quiet a long time. He kept at it, steady work. “Ordered it from Grant’s. Found it in a catalogue.” “Real nice. Pretty colors. Gonna look great with your furniture.” I watched his ivory back, the way the shadows danced down his spine as he bent and lifted. I wanted to go over and hold him, to hold him close and warm. He wouldn’t let me, no way. “Thanks. It wouldn’t look so good if I’d messed it up trying to hang it. You got a real talent, Sven. You could get a job in Atlanta or anywhere. Any contractor would love to have you on his payroll.” “Yeah, ‘til I got drunk and didn’t show up one day. Then he’d fire me in a heartbeat. I ain’t gonna change, Mr. Bellew. Don’t matter if I can or I can’t ... I just ain’t gonna quit.” “Nobody’s perfect, buddy. I do understand. I’ll love you anyway, okay?” I sighed. “That’s what I wanted to hear!” He grinned over his shoulder. “And I love a good liar. Irish, are you?” “You’re a beautiful man, Sven Sorenson. Skinny as a rail, sure, but there’s something about you that radiates beauty. I never knew you. I doubt anybody knows you, not even yourself.” His arms lifted in sunlight and gold flashed in his damp armpits. “If it’s any comfort to your ego then I’d dearly love to suck your cock and make love to your beautiful white body. Even if I never get the chance, I’ll love you for your heart and your mind. I don’t care if you’re a drunk; you’re a beautiful man and a kind one. Rare enough to love and treasure.” He turned again and winked solemnly. “But nobody wants to know me, Mr. Bellew. Not even me. Now how about some more of that iced tea and less of your heart fluttering flattery. If you’re trying to talk me out of my pants just wait until I’ve finished with your wallpaper, okay?” “More tea, coming up!” and I went away to think about him without sight of his sensuous back and freckled shoulders. When he was finished we sat on the wooden hall bench and admired the room. He leaned against my shoulder and teased. “You didn’t believe me, did you? Is it a good job?” “I’m amazed, man. It looks like it’s printed on the walls. I can’t even see a joint. You know, of course, you’ll have to paper the rest of my house now! I’ve found a treasure and I want to enjoy it. I saw several patterns I liked in that book of samples, now I can have them all!” He laughed at my enthusiasm. “Great. I love doing it. You buy it and I’ll hang it... but right now I want that bath. I can’t stand my own smell. I hope you have some old shirt I can have. I don’t want to put this thing on no more.” He’d used his shirt to wipe off paste, and it was a mess. I laid out a fresh towel and looked around, he had everything he needed. He had begun to open his pants when I ducked out of the bathroom behind him. “Hey”, he called. “Stay and keep me company.” “You really want me to?” I hesitated. “Sure. You don’t want to see me naked?” “Well, come on! Of course I do. Kind of embarrassing, though. I’ll start drooling and make a fool of myself.” “Yeah? I can stand it if you can. Give me a smoke and sit on the john.” He kicked off his shoes and stepped out of his pants. “See? Nothing to get all excited about. Just a skinny guy with a little flabby dick, no ass to speak off. I ain’t gonna get you all turned on, don’t worry. I just wanted to talk to you some more. Don’t get much conversation. It’s nice.” He stepped into the big tub and sat down in the steaming hot water. When he leaned back his dick floated up through the suds. He was right. Nothing spectacular, just a plain limp dick. I lit a cigarette and passed it to him, then settled back on the commode. It didn’t feel sexy, just felt nice and friendly. I was surprised at myself more than with his casual attitude. “You aren’t afraid I’ll jump you and try to fuck your ass?” I teased. “Never happen.” He grinned. “Did you think I’d be shy?” “Most men would be shy around me, I think.” “Well, we know I’m not most men, don’t we?” “Have you ever made it with a guy?” I was curious. “Sure. Bet you’ve been drunk too, but you ain’t no alcoholic.” “Who? Anybody I know?” “Why? You making a list? Gonna go have a shot at ‘em yourself?” “Them? More than one?” “Hey, when I get to drinking I get kinda crazy. I sort of lose control of my limits, you know?” “Can I get you a beer?”, I laughed. “You won’t have to.” He flashed that wolfish grin. “You’re well within my sober limits.” “I could add a big bonus to your pay envelope if you’re serious.” “I can use the money, but you don’t need that, either. I’d like to cuddle up with you on your bed, satin or not. Don’t expect too much, though. I can’t always get it up or keep it up. I can make you happy, though, and I can sure enjoy some close up touch and attention. Don’t get enough of that, drunk or sober. Sometimes I think a good sincere hug is better than any kind of sex.” “Funny, I think that’s true, too.” I moved to the floor by the tub and picked up a washcloth and began washing his face, then his shoulders. “I said there were several men around town for sex ... but it’s just for sex, you know? There’s nobody I sleep with because we both want to be together and.. you know?” “Yeah. I’ve had sex with a lot of people, too, and it’s mostly them using me to take the place of somebody else, somebody they can’t be with. Not many people really want to be with me just because I’m me. I know the feeling. Guess that’s why I want to be with you, because you really looking at me. At least you’ll know I’m there, right? You’ll know it’s me.” “For sure, buddy.” I washed his arms and moved to his chest. He closed his eyes and lay passive and relaxed. When I reached his lower stomach and passed his navel, I felt him stir in the water. He opened his eyes. “I’m coming out, now, or you’re coming in...Which is it?” “Stand up and I’ll wipe off the soap.” I pushed up from the floor. He stood and dripped sheets of soapy water. He stood still while I sluiced him down. His ass was hard and tight under my hands, his skin incredibly smooth and slick. I watched his cock thicken and grow in length. He stepped out of the tub and kissed me lightly, took up the towel and dried while I watched. “Lead me to bed, huh?” “Come on, this way.” He followed with the towel wrapped around his waist. The towel dropped at the bedside and he sat to watch me undress. He didn’t attempt to help but he watched, curious and interested. His cock stayed at half mast. I sat naked beside him. He grinned. “Feels a little funny, don’t it? I ain’t done this sober in a long time. Can we get under the covers? Just lay together a while? You know, till we get used to each other?” He glanced down at my soft dick. I felt pretty self-conscious, myself. I still wasn’t sure what he had in mind. He was full of surprises and I didn’t want to miscalculate at this point. We got under the blanket and he curled up next to me and we wound arms around each other until his head was nestled in my neck and I had one hand free to smooth over his back and side. He had a hand on my chest and he felt the contours of my chest, let his palm slide down to my belly and tease at my navel, then lower. He made playful tugs at the hair around my cock. I swelled immediately at the sensation of his hand so close I could feel its warmth. He raised his head and kissed me as his palm found my shaft and he clutched the firm flesh. He kissed with serious intensity. Not like a straight man, trying to please, but with the hunger of a man starved for affection and love. I rolled to free my arm, reached for his cock. He was rigid and longer than I expected. His balls were hot and still moist from his bath. He opened his legs, letting my hand worm between and below, touching the rare and secret chasm behind his sac. It was filled with crisp hair and damp. I slid a finger deeper to touch his ass hole and he didn’t flinch so much as gently slow the kiss and tighten his legs back together. He made a mild groan in his chest, drew back his lips to whisper, “Touch my dick, please. Hold it.” Then he sighed with pleasure as I followed instructions and clasped him in a firm grip. “Ahha.” He kissed me again and his tongue slipped inside my lips to find my tongue and then dart away. His hand moved faster on my cock, stroking a powerful rhythm and I moved my hand with his beat. The tension built quickly and he stopped suddenly and pulled me close in a fierce hug, then broke the hold to climb higher in the bed and straddle my chest. He threw back the blanket. His dick dipped near my mouth and he leaned forward as I lifted my head to meet him. He held my face as he pumped in and out in slow motion. His face was a mask of pleasure above me. When I though he was getting close and his cock pulsed on my tongue he drew back, lay down and kissed me, licked his flavor from my mouth and went down on me. He kissed a trail down my belly and took me in his mouth without reservation. He was a proficient lover. He gave great pleasure and took pleasure. He teased and held back, he led the passion waltz with assurance and finesse. He turned me over gently and laid full length on my back as he pushed his cock down between my legs and pumped his hips against my ass. He crawled down to kiss my buttocks and smooth his hands over every inch of my skin and crawled under my leg to flip me back up and laughed and he flopped, belly down, invited me to attend his lifted and wiggling ass. When I had paid respect and worshipped he turned to me again, front-to-front and kissed with abandon and lust. He pushed me down to his lap. “Hurry, I can’t hold back no more. It’s about to explode!” ... His hand on the top of my head was insistent and I went gladly to task. It was very quick, then, and it was molten butter and cream and still flowing when he pushed me flat to shove my hand away from my cock and he gulped it as he had the meal I’d laid before him. He was as ravenous and as hurried. I came to his hungry mouth and tried to push him away as I spurt, but he held fierce, let me spend into his greedy lips and then brought them to me for wet kisses. I thought he was sleeping when I touched his face with amazement, but his eyes fluttered open and he grinned at my expression. “Thanks”, and he raised the few inches to meet my lips in a quick smack, fell back. “I love the look on your face! You look stunned.” he laughed. “You’re gay, aren’t you? I would never have believed it. ...” “Well, not really. Not if you mean I think about men and go out looking for dick and shit like that. I think about women, like a regular straight guy. Hell, I like titties and pussy, sure. But I don’t see why I can’t enjoy myself no matter who I’m with do you? Does it matter?” “I’ve been with gay men who didn’t enjoy sex as much as you! And they weren’t half as good at it as you, either! You must be gay or bi-sexual or something?” He laughed. “Okay. Put another label on me if you want. I don’t care. I think good sex is about not being afraid of it. Not being afraid of letting go and riding it. It takes two to tango, though. You’re no wallflower! I’ll give you that. I had you figured for the repressed kind, but you get it on pretty damn good.” “Me? Gee, I’ve never been suspected of repressing in my life!” “Funny. Some guys come on so strong and make a big show but in the sack they shrivel up and then cry when it’s over. You just let it happen so casual then explode on contact!” he smiled. “I like you, Mr. Bellew. Did I tell you?” “Not enough. But call me Donnie, okay? I think we’re friends, now.” “Donnie? I donno, I kind of like Mr. Bellew. Sounds so respectful and everything. You being the older man and all...”. He grinned. Not a wolf... just a man, after all... a really good man hiding inside a bad man skin. He papered my whole house, yeah, and painted the trim, too, before we drifted apart with the slow and tidal ebb of time and a few bad times between us. Still, I remember him with more kindness than pain... more love than anger. He was one of the good ones. Not many in that file. Jackertoo@AOL.com
