Aloysius Li Washington

Li Washington Ch 05

Li decides he's ready to come out

This story is entirely fictional and original—no AI was used in its production. All of these stories contain descriptions of explicit male/male sexual activity, but all characters engaged in sexual activity are over 18.. There are three previous chapters under the Series "Aloysius Li Washington". Ch 04 contains a brief recap of the first three chapters. © 2023, all rights reserved. Brunosden

We had decided to have dinner out, recognizing that there was almost nowhere in the Greater Boston area where we could do so with Li being recognized. But, we had decided to take a chance. So we chose one of the expensive but very large lobster and fish restaurants on one of the piers downtown. If we were going to invite speculation, we had decided we were going to do it with a splash—appear in public, without PDAs, but in a large populated space. We had agreed: no PDAs. The ostensible purpose was to discuss the growing number of professional and college basketball players that Li was recruiting for our program at the Y and the final details of the developing program. That would be the story if anyone asked. However, we arrived together in the same car and entered together. I had made the reservation—so the restaurant had not had time to tip off the influencers and the press that Li Washington was dining tonight at their place.

I had invited Li to work with me with inner city youth at the downtown Y. A half dozen Saturdays had followed—and the attendance had skyrocketed from a 20 or so to over a hundred every Saturday. A regular program was in the works, with teams, regular games on a regular schedule, standings, statistics, uniforms (hopefully sponsored by local small businesses)—but coaching staff was in demand. We could not do it all by themselves. Boston was a basketball town (I would argue B&B—baseball and basketball), but there was no denying that the inner city youth were fanatics about the sport.

Meanwhile, we had definitely become another kind of team. With one week off when I had to travel for a marketing meeting, we had spent Friday night to Sunday night together for two months. There was still so much sexual energy that being in the same room was incendiary. Just being together almost always ended up in bed. Friday night, several times on Saturday and a few times on Sunday. Li's sexual recovery time was the stuff of legend, and somehow he had made me almost as horny. While there were new sexual discoveries to be made, we both knew what worked and what buttons to push. We were good, at the top of our form, and capable of sustaining an intense sexuality that neither of us had previously thought possible. Li could be the most powerful top on the planet—and an hour later flip over and bottom for me, urging me to take him as hard as he had taken me. We were definitely porn film material—if we had wanted to go public. But, we were actually living it.

We were also definitely best friends. We could talk about anything and had frequently confided deep secrets to each other. Most of the details of our young lives, aspirations, and fears had been voiced. Each of us was now comfortable with the other's personality, character, quirks, dreams and desires. And so we had decided to take the next step: a public appearance for dinner at a nice place, albeit with a solid, plausible story. It would raise questions, of course. I was not a closet gay, but I wasn't a flamer and exhibited the hyper-masculine mannerisms of an ex-Marine. And, the story provided deniability—if we wanted to lie, or to duck questions.

The conversation, therefore, of course didn't really focus on the Y and the program. We had already decided most of the details of that effort and were at the publicity and implementation phase. If the dinner raised questions, we'd use the occasion to publicize the joint effort.

Li was pre-occupied. He was approaching the decision deadline for a career decision.

"You do know Evan that I need to respond to RansomWalker by the end of the month if I'm accepting their offer. They know that summer associates who don't accept the offer of full time employment immediately are shopping. They've already called a few times—and I stalled. There is a New York firm interested. I've talked with them three times, twice in person—and they're offering a ton of money. And there's a medium-sized Boston firm, exclusively a litigation firm, that, I'm sure is going to make an offer, maybe next week, but probably for a good deal less money. And, although there is some diversity now, it's been historically an African-American firm. I'm torn. Washington is home for me. And RW is one of the top firms, with a great rep for diversity in hiring. I could be very happy there."

"I'm thinking the New York shot is just too long. I'm really flattered by the offer—and the money. But, I don't think I can make a decision based upon someone buttering my ego, or showering me with money. I'd need to start all over with friends and contacts; the hours would be brutal; and, I'm guessing that I'm going to be dealing with tokenism for a long time. Celebs are a dime-a- dozen in New York—and there is even a question as to whether an out-of-city former athlete even qualifies. After the costs of living in New York are factored in, it is really not that much more."

"Then there's Boston. The firm is small, mostly black, and they can't pay as well. I would find myself mostly handling smaller matters, with less intellectual challenge, for less educated people with much less money."

"I've got two questions, really important ones. Would you move to Washington or New York with me? And what do you think about the Boston chance?"

"The first question is easy, Li. I'd move anywhere with you. I'm sure I can find something similar to what I do now—and I'd probably even make a little more. But, I'm not going to do it if our relationship needs to remain a secret. I've not told you this. But, I've given myself until Christmas to decide whether we are going to go long term or break it up. I'm old enough that I would like to see a future in my relationships—particularly with someone like you. I want children. And four to six months is about he max for my trial period."

"The second is much more complex. I know how important family is to you. I understand. It is true for me as well. All my family is here. But, whether it's Washington, New York or Boston, the distance is really very short these days. Wherever we live, we'll be with family all the time. In that sense, New York is probably at the bottom of my choice-list. But, the decision is not really a family choice—at least not for me."

" I can't tell you whether you'd be happy in a smaller firm that's mostly black, maybe handling less intellectually challenging problems. But, I can guaranty to you that problems are not just intellectual; personal problems are just as important and just as challenging. Whatever you choose is going to be a compromise. Will you feel that you've compromised your intellect? Or your integrity? Or you race? Or who you are? Do you know anything about their attitude toward LGTBQ+?"

"I know we've invested a lot in getting this Y program started. But, it will have legs and it will continue with or without us. The Boston Y is now behind it, and it seems that the Celtics Organization is going to be a Big Daddy. So that wouldn't be an issue by next spring. And there are Y's in DC and New York."

"And so, my short answer is: it's your choice. I can't make it for you. If you want me, I'm yours, Li. But, probably not for much longer if you keep me in the closet."

"And that leads me to a question I've been meaning to ask. I've got something else in mind that I wanted to raise tonight. Will you do Thanksgiving with the O'Malley's? I know you usually go to DC, but I'd like you to meet more of my family than just Pete. If we're going to be here, they are going to be part of our lives. You need to meet them."

"You understand what you're asking?"

"Of course, I do. My whole family knows I'm gay. If you show up at Thanksgiving, I could arrange it so you're Pete's guest—his office mate from last summer who's stuck in Boston for the holiday--or you're mine. If you're mine, they'll know. And even if you're Pete's, they'll catch on pretty quickly. Pete has decided to consider an offer from a Boston firm—he wants to be here for his spouse. I think they're going to announce an engagement at Thanksgiving. My family is educated, observant and very into family. They sense relationships. And we are a big family. The city will know within a few weeks."

"So what you're really asking is whether I'm ready to come out to be us?"

"I don't expect an answer tonight. But, this is an issue we must confront soon. I'm so into you, Li. I'm ready to go the distance. Even if that means moving to Washington with you But, not in the closet. Life is too short."

"But, let's lighten up. This is a milestone night for us—it's our first date. I've already seen a number of surreptitious cells. I know some photos have been taken. I expect some questions soon. We've had a great dinner. Let's skip dessert and get out of here. I'm looking at everything I want right now—and not just for dessert."

I paid the bill; Li retrieved the car from valet; and, Li drove us home. The drive was silent. Both of us were thinking. But that didn't keep me from teasing Li's thigh. His hard cock was so far down his right thigh that I'm surprised he could keep his foot on the pedals. As we pulled into the parking garage for the condo, I actually squeezed his dick and he shot a good-sized load of precum into his slacks.

We walked into the condo. I expected Li to attack, strip me, and manhandle me into the bedroom as he usually did. But Li acted more like the perfect gentleman. He collected jackets and walked to the bar to prepare nightcaps. I had a premonition that I had gone too far. Had I delivered an ultimatum? Perhaps, this was the end.

We sat on the sofa, toasted our "first date," and drank. Placing our glasses on the table, Li turned toward me. His was going to be the first move. I was really frightened. Here it is. Li reached around and pulled me into his lap and covered my mouth with his own. "I love you, Evan. I'll take the chance for you and with you. I'll join you for Thanksgiving. I'm ready to try to go the distance with you."

Then he reached down and squeezed my dick through my slacks. "But, right now, I want this little guy in my ass. Let's hit the bedroom before I change my mind—about the decision, that is, not you taking me tonight."

I understood immediately. Li had decided to take the risk to his manhood by coming out. And he was sealing the deal by bottoming for me. This was going to be making love, not fucking. My spirits soared. We went to the bedroom and stripped, not in a frenzied tearing off of clothes, but a deliberate preparation to an important event about to happen—the first time I would take Li after Li had said yes to "us."

"Let's start with a hot shower." So we walked to the giant rain shower. Li adjusted the water temp. And we stepped in. Li reached down, wrapped his arms around my shoulders and pulled me up for a deep tongue-duel. As we came up for air, hands drifted down to ass cheeks and rock hard cocks dueled. We soaped, stroked and massaged, raising the temperature appropriately, but in a languid, romantic pace, not a frantic "get-off-now" brawl. We carefully dried each other, and Li left to get ready. When I came out, Li was already in position—on his arms and knees, offering his nice round globes to his partner.

I grabbed the lube and threw it beside him on the bed. I realized what Li was doing—this was complete surrender, the kind of surrender that you only give a lover or a dom. I was definitely the former. I pushed the thighs apart and lovingly palmed the low hanging lemons. They were smooth, heavy and hot. I could feel the excitement of the little guys in there already, prepping for their competitive swim. Then I separated the cheeks and my tongue dove in. I knew that Li's absolute favorite thing in the world was to be eaten—and I was going to feast on this dessert until Li was writhing in pleasure. The dessert that keeps on giving! Li moaned a deep baritone sound and wiggled his butt into my face. I rimmed, curled and entered and sucked. And kept at it as Li nearly levitated from the bed with pleasure. But, the arousal was getting very high. And Li was threatening to destroy the bed.

So I lubed myself and Li, began the finger prep; then withdrew and placed my rigid cockhead at the entrance. Li opened and I penetrated and froze. "All the way, now bro. All the way. I want to feel you deep. I want it to hurt so I can feel the pleasure. You're the man, Evan. You're my man. And I am yours. Make the play!"

With some fear, I rammed hard. Li loved it and pushed hard back. Only a few seconds later, I started the pump. I was going to stimulate that love nut as it had never been before. Li was going to scream with pleasure and plead for more—and harder.

Apparently, I must have been pretty intent on making this really good for him. Li turned his head and smiled up at me. "Why so serious? It's really good this way, bro. I like to know that I belong to a man, a fucking Marine for God's sake! Make me yours! That ass is yours. That hole is yours to fill. Go for it!"

I increased the speed of the stroke and deliberately aimed it at different sides of the chute with each stroke. If Li wanted rough, I could do rough. I pumped and pumped. Then I felt his first spasm and knew his cum was traveling. It had so far to go! So I reached around and squeezed Li's enormous dick with both hands, constricting the vessels and heightening his pleasure. Li hissed and shouted. "Yes. I'm yours bro." and began to match my explosions with his own. Both of us collapsed onto the bed, utterly exhausted from the incredibly athletic performance. We hadn't lost any of the intensity or the spontaneity of coupling. And wow, I had found a power bottom to meet my wildest dreams.

Slowly, I rolled off and got up to get warm towels. Then I returned to the bed. And took Li into a little spoon—assuming anyone would call a 6-11 athlete "little" anything.

*******

We cooked breakfast in—or rather I cooked and we both ate, worked out and studied some. Then we ordered out for lunch. The phone was silent. By 2 o'clock, it was time to go to the Y for the regular Saturday program. Two other basketball players from BU had agreed to volunteer. Once again we arrived together and greeted the two newcomers, both giant pro-bound athletes. The afternoon followed the pattern which the boys now had become accustomed to: teaching drills, followed by short round-robin games—while those "sitting out" played horse on the available half-court. There didn't seem to be any unusual tension. Tentatively, both os us concluded that last night's dinner had been a non-event.

But we both knew that FOR US the previous night had been life-changing, and perhaps life-giving.

Somewhat more prosaically, we decided to order in pizza and have a stay-at-home night. We weren't going to tempt fate two nights in a row. When we got home, after we changed to short sweats and tees—our standard at home attire—we noticed the land line (yeah, Li still had a land line) was blinking. Both looked at our cells which had been off for the afternoon. Mine had the predictable routine txts and messages. Li's was lit up like a Christmas tree. One, marked URGENT, was from Li's agent. (Despite his retirement from pro ball, Li's agent had held on, hoping that someday Li might reconsider and try again.)

It read:

*****WTF???!!!*****

And there was an attachment. It was a short piece from Boston's notorious gossip social media, Gay Gazette. The squib read, "What former Celtics star was dining with a guy at Pier 51 last night? They look pretty close. The salt and pepper combo is mouth-watering." The story didn't add much detail except to include some well-known items about Li's brief career with the Celts and his fight with cancer. Attached were two pictures, one at the table, and unfortunately, when the photo was taken, Li's hand was on my arm and both of us were smiling at each other, deep into each other's eyes. The second showed us leaving. Li had caught the door, and when I reached to take the handle from him, I had missed and stretched out embarrassingly to avoid getting hit with it (my shirt pulled out of my pants and my basket strained at the zipper), seemingly shouting to him about something.

"Well, I guess the news is out. We could call the agent and give him the story about the Y, but he's not an idiot—and I don't lie to my agent. It's way too dangerous down the road."

"It's going to get worse, Li. I'm in the Gazette's picture files and if they do face recognition, they'll know who your partner was. There are a few details in my past that I haven't shared."

"When I got out of the Marines, I was trying to get back into the social scene pretty quickly to forget the Middle East. I did the gay club scene for a couple of months. I wasn't really very discrete. I didn't need to be. I was out. It was no secret. And I was in demand. I hardly ever bought myself a drink. You know what I look like—it was the same then, except I was a little wilder with longer hair, bleached tips, and very tight clothes. Often I was down to knit boxers on the dance floor, dancing up a storm with multiple partners, groping many of them. Once or twice when I had had a bit too much liquid courage, I took the stage, danced and lost some of my clothes. My crotch, covered only by a thong, was bulging with money by the end of my number. Several club photos appeared—and at least one of them contained my full name and the connection with my family—which has been very active in PFLAG. The gay Marine son of gay rights activists was somewhat of a celebrity—in certain circles. In a day or so, the city will know that the wonder boy Li Washington was on a date with a gay man, and not just a gay man, but a poster boy for gay life. The Y story is just not sexy enough to counter that."

"Wow. My boyfriend is a sex idol! You told me you were out, but I never guessed how far out. So what do we do?"

Li was trying to put on a serious, perhaps disgusted face. But he failed. He was a lousy actor. I actually think he was proud to have hooked someone like me, or maybe he was wondering a little about my past.

"Let's call the agent. We want to be ahead of this. Then, depending on the conversation, I'm going to call my father."

Li called and placed his cell on audio. Bill Bailey was surprisingly calm and helpful. "First of all, however this works out, you Li are my boy. I'm with you. If you're happy, I'm happy."

Li explained, emphasizing the connection with the Y program, but admitted that he was dating—and that he was at the edge of coming out.

"Then, we get ahead of it. We prepare a major press release about the Y-program. I'll touch base with the Celtics PR guy to give him a heads up. And we drop into the release, almost as a throw-away, that the program is being developed by the two of you in partnership. And that the partnership is expected to go beyond this one program. We don't' need to say anything else. They'll assume the worst—or is it the best?"

"And then, your position—both of you—is that your partnership beyond the Y program is personal and not open to discussion or speculation. You ask for some space and forbearance. They won't give it to you. But, it's best to take the high road. Does anyone else know? If so, you need to alert them to the game plan."

"Thanks, Bill. That's exactly what we should do. Evan will send you a fact sheet on the program in a few minutes so you have the stuff to place the emphasis on what's important."