Scott got a solid job offer in St. Louis five years ago. By that point we had been together a year and half and had become addicted to how hot and sweet the relationship was.
When he told me about his promotion and said, "I'll suck your dick if you move to St. Louis with me." I said, "You'll suck it anyway! But if you do a good enough job, I'll consider it." I playfully grabbed the top of his head and pushed his face to my belt. He laughed and tackled me, ripped open my jeans, ate my cock and drank my cum on the kitchen floor. He did a damned good job, as he always did, so I moved with him to St. Louis.
I settled in there okay. For a steady income, I got a job as bartender at the corner pub. Around the time Scott and I met, I had started freelancing as an editor. Since I managed most of my contracts through email and Skype, it did not matter where I lived. Even in St. Louis I could continue to develop my business, and I did. But -- I had grown up in Philly and although St. Louis, nice as it was, just wasn't quite doing it for me. After a few years, neither where Scott's blow jobs.
His career as a sales exec was stressing him out and he started bringing that tension home with him. My erratic bartending schedule complicated things, too, and both issues worked against us having time to keep our relationship healthy.
One night the bar was dead so the manager let me leave early. When I got home I heard someone banging Scott upstairs in the bedroom. I stood in the foyer and listened. It was strange to hear Scott putting more energy into sex with a stranger than he did any more with me. It was even more telling to realize that I was less upset about Scott's cheating than I was curious about what the guy pumping a cock into my boy friend looked like -- did he have a broad back, was his butt round and tight, were his balls low and heavy, and were they bouncing on Scott's ass causing that faint double slapping sound I was hearing? Scott yelled out, "Yeah, fuck me!"
That broke the spell for me. I quietly put my keys down on the hall table and went to the kitchen bar. I poured myself a scotch and went to the living room. I made myself comfortable on the couch. My newest editing project was on the coffee table, so I picked it up and started working.
About thirty minutes later, I heard an unfamiliar voice calling from the top of the staircase, "Are there beers in the fridge? I'll get us some."
He thumped down the stairs with his eyes on his feet. When he got to the bottom landing he looked up and saw me. He froze. I satisfied my curiosity by scanning his naked body. His back was not broad and his butt was flat. His decent but average cock was glistening with lube. I was right about that slapping sound though. He had big balls hanging beautifully in a low, loose sack. Impressive, I thought then said, "Beer is in the fridge. Help yourself."
He gaped at me a moment then covered his crotch with his hands and ran back upstairs. Ten minutes later he walked downstairs, fully dressed, and out the front door.
I picked up my work again and held it as if reading, but my mind was a jumble. When Scott came down in shorts he stuttered, cried, pleaded and, finally, cursed me because I was dumbly just sitting there, not responding. Eventually, I said, "Scott, look, don't worry about it. I'm going to my office and do some editing."
I went, but could not concentrate on anything. I was up until 3:00 am browsing Internet porn and beating off, three times. When I had exhausted all of my tension, I crawled into bed beside Scott. He had changed the sheets. I remember them smelling very clean.
A month later, Scott helped me load my car and wished me a somewhat sad farewell. I drove back to Philly and unloaded my stuff into a three-story row home in West Philadelphia.
-- PHILLY --
My freelance business had done well while I was in St. Louis. So, when I decided to re-settle back East, I was able to invest in my first home. On the Internet, I found a Victorian-style row home that had been empty for almost three years. The price had dropped progressively since it first went on the market. By the time I was looking to buy, it had fallen into my price range. So, I bought it.
The house suffered from being abandoned for so long but it was still livable. I had the utilities turned on and moved in immediately. Since the only things I owned were packed in my car, I would need to get some furniture. At first, though, I simply bought a mattress and threw it on the floor in the second story bedroom.
The mattress on the hardwood floor was comfortable enough, but I did not sleep well the first few days. It was summer and all of the windows were open. During the night, every sound on the street echoed loudly in the empty three-story house. I expected to get used the noises of my new neighborhood, in time, but the first few nights I was often startled out of a good sleep by noises that seemed to come from upstairs.
By the fourth night, I believed I could distinguish different types of sounds. Street noises seemed to have a reverberating, echoing quality to them. Yet, there were other night-time noises that still seemed to be coming from inside the house, from upstairs. These sounds started after mid-night and appeared for all the world as if someone was moving around above -- perhaps in the attic.
Squirrels. I thought it must be squirrels. These old houses had attic vents that squirrels sometimes broke into. I figured I'd have to hire an exterminator.
Then one night I discovered it wasn't squirrels at all.
-- INTRUDER --
I got up around 4:00 am to take a leak and felt my way in the dark from my bed to the bathroom at the base of the third-floor stairs. It took several seconds for me to realize someone was coming down the stairs as I walked toward the bathroom. The shape was short and a little hunched. It was a person, a guy, and he was tip-toeing but the stairs were old and they creaked. I froze. The guy on the stairs did not see me. He reached the bottom of the stairs and headed into the bathroom that I had intended to use.
Light from a street lamp leaked into the house. In the faint glow I could see that he was naked and had long, dark hair. My heart beat fast, blood pulsed in my throat, and the adrenaline pouring into my veins made me start shaking. I was naked too, but the guy had still not seen me. As he put his hand on the door knob to the bathroom, I yelled in a full-throated roar, not a scream, but a panicked, inarticulate "Arghhh!".
The guy dropped instantly into a crouch. He raised his hands in defense and gave out a series of yelps, "Haa! Haa! Haa!..."
It took a second or two for me to realize that he was more frightened than I was. In a flash it came to me that he was not a burglar and had no weapons. What burglar breaks into houses naked? This stranger must have been living in my house on the top floor. It was him I had heard moving around every night.
"What! What are you doing in my house?" I hissed.
"Sorry, sorry, ... sorry!" he said in a quivering whisper. The fear in his voice was clear and I switched from defensive to offensive mode.
"What the fuck are you doing in MY house??" I yelled.
He crouched lower with both hands on the floor. If he sprang up he could either attack me or dive down the back stairs into the kitchen and escape. He hesitated and seemed not to be able to decide what to do.
I was bent forward with a hand on the wall, but not down on the floor as he was. There was a pause between us and I noticed that my skin glowed white in the street lamp light. He was a darker figure and his skin appeared chestnut, and his eyes were very dark. They fixed on me. His chest was heaving, gulping air.
Without yelling this time, I asked with a tremble in my voice, "What are you doing in my house?"
He did not speak for several seconds. Then he said in an accented voice, "I have lived here for many months."
"What?"
"I live upstairs, under the roof. I have no where else to live. Is this your house now?"
I raised my voice,"Fuck yeah! It's my house. What do you mean 'under the roof'?"
He did not answer for a few breaths then said, "I will leave. Right away." And he rose slowly from the crouch. His hands came up, palms forward as a defensive sign to hold me off.
"I will leave now. Will get my things." He stuttered and cautiously inched toward the stairs.
It was all so bizarre. The adrenaline in my veins was waning. This guy was no threat. He was frightened. He wanted to run. And he was naked. I also noticed he had a muscular, slender body.
"Uh, wait!" I barked, startling both of us again.
"Wait. What's going on here?" I asked.
He paused with his hands on the banister, about to dash upstairs.
"No, seriously. Stop. Wait. Don't run. What are you doing here?" I blurted out.
He froze again and looked at me with a puzzled tilt of the head.
"I have lived in this empty house. You are here, so I will leave now. Very sorry."
Now I was just getting fucking curious.
"You live here?" I stammered. "Really? How long?"
I relaxed my stance and stood upright. So did he.
His arms were not big but the muscles were clear in the street light, his waist was narrow and his crotch was dark and heavy looking.
The light shined through the window behind him, so I must have been more illuminated in my pale, nakedness.
Curiosity or interest suppressed his fear. He stood and dropped his arms by his side.
"Yes. I have no home. I live here this year. In the roof room. But I will leave. Please don't call the police."
I blinked a couple of seconds.
"Police? Uhh. No. I won't. What is your name?"
-- FALLING --
"Mua, I am named Mua."
"My name is Lee. You can't live here any more. This is my house now."
"Yes. I understand. I will get my clothes." And he started up the stairs.
"No, you don't have to leave tonight. It's 4 am, for god's sake."
Mua was moving up the steps, turned to look back at me, then lost his footing and fell hard, hitting his head on a step. It was such a loud thud that I cringed. His body slid down in a sickening, dead floppy way until his feet were on the landing.
"Oh, shit!" I said and rushed over to him. I turned him on his back then lifted and moved his head and shoulders until he was lying flat on the floor.
"Oh, shit, shit shit!" I repeated. There was a dark streak running from the right eye brow down the side of his face. I stood and reached inside the bathroom door to flip on the light which then flooded the hall and lit up Mua's body.
I knelt down quickly to see if he was breathing. He was, quietly, and I figured he had been knocked out. I went into the bathroom and soaked a hand towel with cold water. Then I bent over Mua and laid it across his forehead, using the end of it to dab at the cut above his eye.
Nothing happened for about 15 seconds, while I anxiously asked myself what the fuck I should do. But then his eye lids began flickering and slowly opened. Mua stared up at me blankly at first then he startled and tried to sit up and squirm away from me. The pain in his head stopped him immediately and he dropped back to the floor putting a hand to the towel on his forehead.
"Ahhhh," he moaned.
"Relax. You fell on the stairs and knocked yourself out.
Just lie still and let me look at that cut."
The cut in his brow was not very deep and the bleeding had stopped already.
"It'll be alright. I don't think you need stitches." I said sitting cross-legged on the floor beside him. His breathing sped up quit a bit. I put my open palm on his hairless chest, "Calm down. Just calm down."
He closed his eyes and tried to relax.
Under my hand his breathing slowed and I became aware of how boney he was. The skin was tight on his breast bone and ribs and glowed a rich brown in the bathroom light. And it was warm. I noted that his nipples were small and a darker brown. Then my hand drifted down to rest in the crater of his belly. He definitely needed to eat more.
Sliding from my hand downward, my gaze moved to the small but dense patch of black hair over his dick and balls. The dick was perhaps the only place on him that had some meat to it. Its plum-shaped head was clear to see under the generous and thick foreskin which ran to a puckered nipple beyond its tip. His balls were like medium-sized grade A eggs slung in a loose sack between his thighs.
I scanned back up his body to find him staring at me and I quickly took my hand from his stomach.
"You need to eat more." I said quickly.
"I have no job. No money."
"What have you been eating?"
He was silent and dropped his gaze down to his own chest.
"I eat what I find... What I find on the street, behind people's houses."
"Your eating out of trash cans then." I said flatly.
He nodded.
"Do you ask people for money to buy food?" There were many panhandlers in Philadelphia and I just assumed that someone hungry on the streets would be asking for help.
"I do not beg!" He answered roughly and shot me a sharp look.
"Maybe you should have. You're starving. And...," I paused as I began to notice a slightly sour and musty smell coming from him. "And, I think you need a bath."
That totally embarrassed him. He tried to sit up.
"I am very sorry. I will go put on clothes and prepare to leave."
"Whoa! No. I didn't mean to make you feel bad."
"There was no water in this house." He mumbled.
"There is now though. Let's get you cleaned up a bit, and wash that blood off of your face."
"Come on. I'll help you up, Moo."
"Mua," he corrected and raised an arm for me to pull him up.
I stood and, instead of taking his hand, reached mine under his arms to lift him. He was even lighter than I expected, and he wobbled when I got him to his feet.
He put his arm over my shoulder and I wrapped one around his slight waist. The naked sides of our bodies rubbed against each other as we shuffled into the bathroom.
"You do not have to help me," he complained.
"If I don't you'll fall, and you might already have a concussion.
"Plus, I don't know about you, but I still have to piss. We were both headed to the bathroom, right?"
"Yes. I must use the restroom."
I chuckled a bit. The way he spoke was kind of 'stiff'.
"Where are you from, originally?"
Mua looked over at me with apprehension.
"Seriously, tell me. I don't work for the government, but I do own this house, and I'm curious." I smiled at him.
"Bali."
"Bali. How did you end up in Philadelphia?"
"I was at the University of Pennsylvania, but the agency who paid my way stopped paying. I had to quit. I did not want to go home and could not buy a ticket anyway."
"Seriously, they just left you stranded?
Here, you pee in the toilet, I'll use the tub."
"Yes.