Guilty Christmas Lights

I didn't know why David was being such a dick. He'd promised to come walking with me look at the Christmas lights set up on all the houses around the neighbourhood. I had the romantic idea that we could walk together, hand-in-hand, my first Christmas with a boyfriend, my first Christmas being gay.

I know that sounds weird. I can hear you saying:

"Don't you mean; "Your first Christmas OUT as gay?""

Nope. Well maybe. But that's not how I experienced it. I went from a lonely (even though I had and have lot of friends) virgin straight guy with a lot of hangups to a very happy openly gay guy without a hangup in the world (and without the slightest bit of my virginity remaining) in one beautiful spectacular weekend. I have David (and I guess my friends who knew me better than I knew myself) to thank for that.

But now it was Christmas-eve-eve. Christmas-eve night David would join me at my house with my foster-parents and my foster-brothers and sisters for Christmas dinner. They also mostly knew me better than I knew myself when six months earlier I'd told them I'm gay.

"Umm Gladys?" I'd said to my foster mum after the weekend.

"Yes Edward," she'd replied while continuing to unpack the dishwasher.

"Well... I just wanted to let you know... I'm gay and well..."

She looked at me briefly and then said, "Yes, Edward, go on."

"Oh well... that's it actually..."

"Oh okay. Do you want something to eat?"

And then later to Adam, my foster-father,

"Ah Adam... did Gladys tell you about me?"

He actually laughed, "Oh yeah. She said that you'd told her that you're gay."

"I did! What's funny about it?"

"Oh.. Oh, I'm sorry Eddy. I just thought... Somewhere along the line, we've just assumed... Well you've never really tried to hide it so... its just surprising that you felt you had to say it."

Well obviously that wasn't the end of the conversation and I'm sorry that I'm leaving a lot unsaid in this story.

Anyway plenty of straight guys don't like sport, like to dress well, get their hair cut every week, use moisturising sunscreen on a daily basis etc.. And when I said when watching a rugby league game with Adam on TV:

"The cameramen must be gay. They always seem to focus on the guy's thighs, crotches and arses," ... well, I thought that was a pretty objective statement?

I'd dropped out of school when I was a kid. I don't really want to go into all of the reasons why but suffice to say, it's hard to do homework when you don'r have a home. Even though I wasn't really too old to go back to school, my new foster parents got me into an academy for mature students and other people in my situation where I could get my QCE (the Queensland senior school certificate) in only one year of study. At the time of the Christmas lights incident, I'd graduated just a few weeks earlier.

But the Tuesday after I'd turned gay, or discovered that I'm gay, I was so happy that I posted it to the FB page my academy group had set up.

"Oh, I'm so surprised! Who'd have thought you were gay?!?!"

Someone posted a meme of Mike Pence with the caption "I'm Shocked!"

"Oh no! I had dreams of us married with three kids one day!" Said one of the girls.

All of it followed by heaps of likes and laughing face emoji's. Apparently it came as no surprise to any of them either. They did all finally comment or like messages congratulating me though. They're all really cool people.

Anyway I'm going to write other stories about incidents in my weird life but I'm just focussing on this Christmas fiasco. So as I said, Christmas Eve David and I would be at my foster family's house and Christmas Day we would be at his parent's house up the coast.

Then on Boxing Day, it's my birthday. David was going to organise a party for me with our friends but I told him that my foster family would be having one for me. That wasn't the kind of party he had in mind. He did have the idea that he would organise a birthday party at his flat on that Christmas-Eve-Eve but he lost interest in the idea as he often does and said he would take me out for a romantic dinner sometime before New Years instead.

Yes of course people don't turn their lights off immediately after Christmas but going around after Christmas Day isn't the same. Christmas-Eve-Eve was the last chance. David had been promising to go with me for days and now he said he had to work on some university summer school essay that he'd already written but decided that he needed to rewrite.

"Just go by yourself Edward if you're so desperate to see the lights. I'm on a roll here. If I stop now I'll lose my train of thought!"

So I walked out to see the lights alone. I did feel bad about it. He'd just rented the flat a month before. One reason was that he didn't have to do the hour and fifteen minute commute from his parent's house to his uni but he was also constantly asking me to come and live with him.

Yes I'd spent the night there many times and since I'd turned eighteen nearly a year before I wasn't technically under foster care anymore, but after many years of instability, Gladys, Adam and the kids were the first stable loving family I'd had and I hadn't even been with them for three years yet. I wanted it to last. I didn't want to move out at the earliest opportunity. I didn't want to leave the kids who saw me as their older brother and who'd all been through the same kinds of things I had been through growing up.

So I was thinking about all of this as I was walking alone along the street looking at the Christmas light displays people had set up on and in front of their houses. It had been a very hot and humid day (we're in Brisbane, Australia) and there was lots of people around enjoying the cool night air and the lights.

I turned the first corner and came to a house that had a very nice display. No inflatable Santas and Reindeer, just lots of strings of little LED lights in single colours around the fences, topiary bushes in the front yard and most of the front of the house. They faded in and out gradually, no epilepsy inducing flashing, creating quite beautiful and elegant displays of colour combinations.

But there was a guy up on a ladder leaning on the front verandah roof of the house. I did notice that part of the gable of the house was blacked out when I could tear my consciousness away from his thick meaty thighs leading up into his very brief shorts and the muscles of his arms and back visible through his sweat stained dark blue singlet.

"Oh fuck!" He suddenly yelled and looked down to the ground. He turned around and looked at me.

"Hey mate, can you give me a hand? I dropped my bloody screw-driver."

"Yeah, okay."

I walked up his path and looked for the screwdriver. He had a border of Agapanthus along the front and the screwdriver had fallen in there. I had to use the light on my phone to search for it but finally I got it.

"Found it!"

I looked up at him and pretty much looked straight up the leg of his shorts. It was pretty dark, lit only by the shifting coloured lights of his display, but I nearly dropped the screwdriver all over again.

"Thanks mate. Can you climb up and hand it to me? I can't let go of these wires."

Well I'm not usually a great ladder climber and it was a damn long way up. The house was a Queenslander, high on piers before even getting to the verandah floor level. I put the screw-driver in my pocket so that I could hold on better with both hands and began the climb. All I could see were those thick hairy thighs and those solid looking buttocks gradually getting closer.

I got up to the level where my face was near his boots, held on as tight as I could with one hand, reached into my pocket with the other hand to get the screw-driver and then stretched my arm up to hand it to him.

"You'll have to come up a bit higher mate."

So I kept climbing, one rung at a time, until my face was at his bum level. I reached up with the screw driver again but as I did I had a moment of imbalance. It was quite unintentional I assure you, I promise you, but to steady myself, I found that I was pushing my face into that hard round arse. He made a strange sound:

"Ooooooooh!"

He looked down at me and smiled, took the screwdriver but then I started to go down. He said,

"Do me a favour and hold these for a sec mate?" And his hand came down bearing a pair of wire strippers. I took them.

It felt weird standing there on the ladder with his arse millimetres from my face so I climbed up one more rung of the ladder. The lights on the gable turned on and finally he said,

"You can go down now mate. Thanks a lot for you help."

I inched my way down and he followed.

"Thanks again mate. I was in a real pickle up there."

"It was my pleasure. Your lights are (arse is) so beautiful and I was happy to do something to help."

"Oh thanks. Yeah I actually had to tone it down a bit this year after I got complaints from the church over there last time."

He pointed across the road and there was a "Kingdom Hall of the Jehovahs Witnesses" directly opposite. It looked more like a normal house than a church except for the sign.

"What was their problem?" I asked.

"I thought you might have heard about it. My whole house here was lit up with LED lights in the right colours so it was just one huge rainbow flag to celebrate the legalisation of same-sex marriage. They said I was just rubbing their noses in it because they'd campaigned against it and lost. I didn't even know it was a church! They even called the cops!"

My head was filled with too many thoughts at once and so there wasn't enough processing power left to speak. Firstly, "why does everyone seem to assume I'm gay immediately on meeting me?", secondly "does that mean this hot guy is gay?, thirdly "why am I having an erection?".

"So what's your name mate?"

"Oh... I don't know."

"What?"

"Edward! My name's Edward. What about you?"

"Nice to meet you Edward. I'm Brad."

"Oh, nice to meet you too."

He was a big guy but lean with muscles dulling from everywhere. He had black hair and a trimmed beard and moustache. HIs eyes seemed to be dark green and he had a line of freckles across his face that offset his extreme hotness with a hint of cuteness. I guessed that he was in his mid-twenties.

"Hey Edward. Are you hungry? I've got heaps of stuff left over from a dinner I had here last night."

I was actually starving. I'd worked from the early hours that morning because of the extended hours for Christmas shopping, (I had a part time job cleaning up after people at the food court of a shopping mall), and I was so busy I didn't get a chance to eat.

"Oh I'd better not. I have to..."

"Come on Edward. I can't eat all that stuff myself and it's a shame to waste it."

"Yeah okay then."

"Cool. Just give me a tick to put this ladder away."

He pulled on a rope and the ladder telescoped down with alarming speed considering that I'd just been up on it. Then he lifted the ladder and carried it with ease into the garage and put it on the roof racks of a truck parked there and fastened it down. I handed him his wire strippers and he put them away in a huge tool box on the truck.

"What work do you do? I asked.

"I'm a sparky," he said.

"Oh... What's that?"

"Electrician mate."

"Oh okay," I guess I should have worked that out.

I followed him into the house.

"I've got ham, roast potatoes and pumpkin, fried chicken, gravy and if you want sweets, I've got a bit of cheesecake my mum made too"

"Oh wow! I'll have a bit of everything if I may?"

He loaded up two plates with the first course and microwaved it.

"Let's eat out on the verandah?"

I followed him out to his high verandah where he had a cast iron table and two chairs and where it was cooler and we could look down at the lights and over the city while we ate.

"Wait a sec. I've got something to drink."

He went back into the house and returned with a jug of bright red liquid and two crystal glasses.

"What's that?"

"Vodka and cranberry juice. Very Christmassy."

"Oh cool."

The food was delicious and so was the vodka and cranberry though perhaps a little heavy on the vodka. I'm not a big drinker.

"So you're a fan of George Michael?" He asked me to make conversation. He was referring to the tee-shirt I was wearing that had George's image on the front.

"Yeah. Are you?"

"I love his later stuff. I wasn't much into the Wham era music though."

"I like all of it but yes, the later stuff is better."

We talked for a while, mainly about the legalisation of gay marriage, how he had been involved manning the phones in the YES vote campaign headquarters and then about my plans to go into journalism. He did mention that he had a boyfriend who was away for work. I told him I had one too and that he lived just around the corner.

"So why isn't he out with you?"

"Oh he had some uni assignment to finish."

"Two days before Christmas?"

"Yeah. Some summer school courses he's doing."

"Oh okay. So you up for some dessert? I've got a bit of cheesecake left over."

"Yeah, cool!"

Better come inside. Mozzies are starting to come out."

We went inside and he asked me to sit on the sofa while he got the cheesecake from his kitchen.

"You're not having any?" I asked as he came back with only one piece.

"Nah, I ate the rest of it. I have to lay off."

He patted his belly as he said that but it sounded like a tree trunk.

The cheesecake was actually slightly frozen but I liked it like that. He sat beside me on the sofa while I ate.

I don't know why I was so horny. Well to tell the truth I'm always pretty horny. You might think it's weird but I only got this way after I turned gay or... whatever. I guess there was too much stress in my life up until the last few years to allow for much self-awareness. I did wank of course but thinking back on it, the object of my sexual fantasies back then was myself which sounds really narcissistic. Well in fact I always wanked looking at myself in the mirror so pretty much the total definition of narcissistic.

But anyway, Brad just watched me as I ate. I had an uncontrollable full on erection. I don't know if he was giving off pheromones or something. I was wearing soft Bonds briefs and linen shorts and I looked down and saw that I was hiding nothing. Then to make things worse (who'm I kidding, to make things better), Brad looked down to see what I was looking at.

"Oooooh, that looks nice," he said.

I had a mouthful of cheesecake. I just looked at him. I guess I nodded. I don't know what signal that gave but next second, he had his hand on it squeezing my solid cock through my shorts. Weirdly I kept eating the cheesecake. I looked sideways at his crotch in his tight blue stubbies. He wasn't hiding anything either. A fat cylinder snaked its way from his groin right across the cleft of his thigh and was capable of poking out his pocket. I took a second take just to convince myself that that was actually a penis in there.

"So I guess your boyfriend is waiting for you to come back?" He asked.

"Yeah," I said after swallowing the last mouthful of cheesecake and putting the plate down on his coffee table.

"Oh. That's a shame. I would like to have played with this," he replied while continuing to basically masturbate me through my shorts.

Well I'd been with David eight months and we've referred to each other as boyfriends just about from the start without ever talking about what it meant. If I was being completely honest, I had too many hormones and too much pent-up gayness to be monogamous but I guess, theoretically we were supposed to be, just by the conventional implications in the word "boyfriend".

In the mall where I work, there are men's washrooms down the corridor near the supermarket that was used by the cleaners (like me) to take the rubbish out to the dumpsters and for the guys to bring up the shopping trolleys from the car park. It is meant to be a male staff toilet but there are proper (and cleaner) staff toilets near the locker rooms so it isn't used much. Somehow a few guys who are just customers know about it too.

So I hereby confess to the fact that in my breaks and after work, I've more than once or twice (more like thirty times), wanked with guys, given guys blow jobs, pumped my sperm down a guy's throat and well, Fareed the sexy Lebanese (I think) security guard (though married with children - he's shown me their photos), has on several occasions, bent me over and fucked my arse while I wanked my semen out onto the floor. This is actually a summary of my activities but whew, I feel clean after that confession.

Nevertheless, with a distinct pang of guilt (I think), I replied to Brad,

"Well, I might have time?"

That was immediately enough to green-light him. He got up, pushed the coffee table back and pulled his singlet off revealing his sexy muscular body. I sat there on his sofa watching him and wondering what I should be doing but he took control. He knelt on the floor in front of me between my legs, dug his hands into the waist band of my shorts at my hips and roughly pulled them down, underwear included. I lifted my arse up to let him pull them off me. My erect cock was caught for a second but then sprang out, slapping George Michael on his chin.

Seconds later Brad was nuzzling his way up between my thighs, pushing his nose into my balls and then around my cock into my pubs and taking a deep breaths through his nose. I guess that's his kink. Then he took my cock into his mouth, right up into his throat and again nuzzled his nose into my pubs.

"Mmmmmnnggggggg" noises he made as he was doing it.

Then he started sucking my cock in earnest. I held onto his head, running my fingers through his curly black hair as he bobbed up and down on my cock

"Oooh fuck yes!" I had to yell not only because it felt so good but also because the desperate way this hot guy was blowing me was really turning me on.

"Mmmmm... mmmmmm... Mmmmmm... ooooooo..." I couldn't help myself. I was feeling his mouth and tongue on my cock all over my body.

He put his hand up under my tee-shirt and squeezed my nipples.

"Oh.. oh... oh god, if you keep doing that I'm..."

He stopped sucking me and pushed my tee-shirt up and kissed and licked my body. I sat forward a bit and pulled my shirt off and after I did, he went back to kissing my body and then licking my nipples before moving up to kiss my mouth, pushing his tongue all the way in.

After kissing me intensely for half a minute he worked his way back down my body. I thought he was going to suck my cock again but instead he licked my balls and then took each one into his mouth and sucked them (which wasn't actually that pleasant) but then nosed under my balls and tried to lick my anus.

He pushed my thighs up with his hands under my knees to get better access but it wasn't enough so he put his arms around my thighs and pulled me forward. That was a failure because the sofa cushion just slipped forward with me.

"Oh shit, can you get up for a sec mate?"

He had been kneeling but he stood up and I stood up too. Only then did I see his cock. He must have pulled his shorts down while he was blowing me and I guess he might have been wanking himself. His shorts were still around his knees and he bent down to pull them off. If I were to tell you his cock was as thick as my wrist and as long as my forearm you'd know I was exaggerating but really, it wasn't far off it.

"Oh shit," he said again. Exactly what I was thinking when I saw his cock, but he went over and flicked the lights off. The living room had French doors out onto the verandah that were wide open though they had closed fly-screens. It did look out onto the street but I doubt anyone could have seen us.

He pushed the cushion back in on the sofa and then turned around, pulled me into his arms and kissed me again. His erect cock slapped against my thigh like a baseball bat. He turned me around and held me from behind and then faced me towards the sofa.