Moving In With The Boyfriend

Fall turned to winter. As the days shortened and grew colder Paul's apartment had become my home away from home. By nice coincidence, he lives closer to my workplace than I live so going to his place after work became routine, not to mention a logical move.

The sofa is a gray fabric sectional, as are the chairs on either end of it. The coffee table is triangle glass with a wooden base. A tall potted cactus stands beside the sliding door. The carpet matches the furniture. The place is tidy.

In Paul's bedroom his Mac Book sits on a desk under the window that serves as a home office for a copywriter. The dresser is situated against the wall on his right. The desk, the dresser, both nightstands, and the bedframe are all mmade of teak.

A cold night in November saw us sitting side by side on the sofa watching telivision. The 55-inch Samsung mounted above the fireplace hearth was showing a Netflix series titled "FUBAR".

In the series Arnold Swartzaneggar plays a CIA agent on his final mission. To his chagrin, he discovers that his daughter is working for the "company'.

Back in the days before Paul and I became a couple "Cazzo Grande" had spent many nighttime hours looking at the website titled "Chaturbate". I had created the screen name almost a year ago on a cold lonely winter night. So far posing naked is a secret that I've kept from my boyfriend.

On this night as we watched TV together I found myself secretly entertaining the notion to pose naked again. I can masturbate anomimously but what if I convince the boyfriend to broadcast the action with me.

We can lie on his bed facing his lap top on the dresser. My own bedroom allows a similar set up.

I moved closer to him on the sofa. With an open right hand I stroked his manhood lightly through his jeans putting a smile on his face.

"Someone wants sex tonight?"

I giggled and asked, "will he get any."

"He might," quipped Paul.

"Do you know the website 'Chaturbate'?"

"What's that?"

"People pose for tips. Sometimes couples and even groups are broadcasting."

"There's a lot of sites like that.

"People on 'Chaturbate' are not paid by a studio. They work from home for tips."

"Did you put a profile on that site?"

His question made me blush.

"You did, didn't you."

"I did," I replied.

Paul moved the lop top to the dresser and angled it to face the bed. Seconds later I began broadcasting naked from the end of the bed.

His gaze shifted from the video of a young man jerking off to live action seconds before I ejaculated.

I watched him get naked then turned around putting my head toward the head board. Paul knelt behind me rocking on his knees driving his thick cock in and out repeatedly with a steady rhythm. My hole tingled as it stretched to accomodate his tool. Grunts belied my pleasure as he hammered my prostate.

The fuck lasted only about two minutes though the camera kept running. We sat upright side by side placing our feet on the floor as hands closed loosely around each other's cock rubbing the organ slowly.

Meanwhile we both read the comments as they were being posted. Both of us knew that viewers were masturbating to our video.

Over the next several days I seriously considered moving in with him. I wanted to save on rent and bills as well as sleeping beside him every night. He lives close to Cleveland Clinc where I work.

A cold Saturday in December saw me working the weekend shift. I took a few X-rays, though not as many as I generally take.

At lunch with my fag hag Sarah Clark, an E D nurse, we chatted at length revealing details about our boyfriends. It was girl talk but the effeminate side of me hung on her every word and even added to the conversation.

"I'm going to move in with him."

"That's a big step. I moved in with my boyfriend last spring. It can change your relationship."

"I wouldn't have so long a ride to get here."

"That's a plus."

"I practically live there as it is."

The following Saturday we became roommates.

"We should divide space in both closets."

I agreed to his suggestion with a nod.

That said, I set about the task of unpacking of my suitcases and pushed his clothes in both closets to the right. It took me only a few minutes to hang my shirts and pants. By 11 my underwear, toiletries, socks, coats and jackets were placed.

"It's gong to be nice having you Steven."

"Can I walk around naked?"

"Not if we get company," Paul replied.

I chuckled and asked "when do you ever get oompany."

"I do have friends over other than you."

My lips touched his lips as my hands went around his waist. The kiss deepened. Our kiss tasted of promise and a future together.

"By the way what is Cazzo Grande?"

"Big dick," I replied.

Paul laughed. "It's not so big," he teased.

"In Italian 'cazzo' also can mean 'fuck', depnding on context of course."

"Of course," said Paul, his tone matter of fact.

A half hour later we took seats in Lekko Coffee. As we looked at each other over coffee and pastry we were in our own little world. That's not to say we were the only two patrons there.

I talked about my Italian family: our traditions, my parents immigration to the USA, their home towns in Italy. I even had stories about my brother and me.

He responded with stories of his own.

As we walked out of Lekko we decided that our next stop should be the mall. Though I didn't actually want anything, I still might make a purchase if I see something I like.

Paul was of the same mind.

The mall foyer brought welcome relief from the biting winter chil. We never expect to see anyone but there can always be a chance encounter.

We had just turned the corner when I spotted my brother Larry with his girlfriend Lynne approaching us.

The two men fell into easy conversation, as did Lynne and I. She mentioned some clothing items that she thought I may like.