When we went through to the dining room, I saw that the table was set for three. There were beers waiting, plus a stack of food. It was some kinda chicken casserole thingy, with chilies and rice.
"What's it called?"
"Chicken casserole with chilies and rice."
The main convo during the meal was between Mark and Fingers, chatting about the yacht, and the designer dude who would be arriving the next day. Meantime, I was squirming around in my chair 'cause I was itching so badly from the fibreglass.
"What's the problem?"
"He wouldn't fucking listen, that's what the problem is," Mark offered despite Fingers' question having been directed at me. "He's got fibreglass dust all over himself."
Then Fingers smiled at me, and said he had some stuff for my prob. "I'll go fetch it."
As Fingers left the table, Mark glared at me. What exactly his prob was I didn't know. Anyway, Fingers came back and asked me to take off my shirt. I glanced at Mark for some kinda approval or whatever, but he just shrugged. Fingers asked me once more to remove my shirt, so I did. Hey, there was no point in denying that I scored pretty high in the bod stakes. It was obvious to everyone, including me. It was also obvious that Finger's cock was fighting for air in his pants at the thought of touching me.
He asked me to stand, then began to gently spread oil on my back. He stayed behind me while his hand moved around to my pecs and abs, the same pecs and abs that Code used to love touching, and that turned him on big time many times.
Mark was probably trying his damnedest to resist smiling, but he couldn't help it. The sight of Fingers running his oiled hands all over my smooth, tanned skin must've tickled Mark's funny bone beyond control, even though he was doing his best not to look at us. Then Mark rose from the table, and said he'd make some coffee.
I could hear Fingers' breathing becoming more hectic. The weird thing was that I was enjoying turning him on, and I was enjoying him turning me on. His fingers went slightly into the waistband of my shorts. He must've felt my pubes or something, I was sure. Then he asked me to turn around and face him. He was blushing from one ear to the other, and asked me if I minded what he was doing.
"Nope. It feels cool. And the itching has eased a lot. Thanks."
His hands moved down to my abs again, so I pulled my stomach in to make them even more defined than they were already. I was having a fucking ball watching this guy getting his jollies from touching me. When Mark returned with the coffee, he stopped briefly to gawk, then went to wash his hands. Fingers, meantime, asked me to leave my shirt off to give the oil a chance to do its thing. Yeah, right. Hahahaha!
Fingers left the room to take the oil back to wherever it came from. That gave Mark a chance to speak to me. "You should be careful," he smiled. Whoa! He had such a magic smile. Code loved it. "He'll do whatever you allow him to do, so just watch yourself."
"Hey, so long as he doesn't take out his wrinkly cock for me, it's cool."
"That's not what he wants. He wants yours."
"He checks you out all the time, dude." Mark blushed, but didn't respond to my remark. So I continued. "He oil you as well?"
"Sometimes he comes into my room and gives me a massage with my morning coffee. But I don't think he'll do that while you're here."
"Fuck off, Steve."
"This is the first time I've seen you smile since I got here."
Fingers returned to the dining room, so we quickly changed the topic. Hahaha! Fingers was talking to Mark, but his eyes were on my pecs and gut. So I played around a bit by tensing my muscles while I drank my coffee. This was like the most fun I'd had in a long time. Later, when Mark and I went back to his bedroom, I collapsed laughing. "That dude is going to be jerking his turkey all night long!"
"You as well by the look of it."
I didn't have a full-on erection, but the blood was flowing in all the right places, which was something that hadn't escaped Mark's notice. But it was cool. Mark was a lot more relaxed than I'd seen in a long time.
"You'd better try to wipe some of that oil off before you turn in, or you're gonna be fucking uncomfortable."
I grabbed a towel from my bag, and wiped off all the excess oil from my chest and abs. Then Mark took over, and cleaned my back for me.
"I would have preferred you to put some oil on me rather than Fingers. He's like bathed me in the damn stuff."
"That's 'cause he was enjoying himself."
We got undressed to our boxers, then I sat on the couch, watching Mark. There wasn't an ounce of fat on that dude. Not one. He made more coffee for us, then sat at the small table.
"Can I come and swim with you tomorrow?" I asked, as though I were still a grommet wanting to be with the big guys.
"I'll probably be in the gym tomorrow, smacking the bag around."
"That sounds cool."
"Whatever blows your hair back."
After coffee, he laid on his back on his bed, and put his hands behind his head. My eyes traced the contours of his chest, then down a steep descent to his flat stomach, which undulated across his sixpack. Then my eyes focused on the bulge in his boxers, which flowed down to his strong muscular legs. I tried to imagine him and Cody together, and wondered how the fuck Cody had gotten through to him. Must've been that old Cody magic, 'cause there could be no other explanation.
"You're looking pretty good." How could I not compliment him? He was totally fucking awesome! "You swim or work out every day?"
"Most days." Then he produced a verbal sledgehammer. "You're looking pretty shit. You get trashed or stoned every day?"
I hadn't realized I looked that bad. And I couldn't understand where that comment came from. In fact, I thought I was looking pretty damn hot... and apparently so did Fingers. "I'm trying to come clean. It's been hard for a while now. But then you wouldn't understand that."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah. When you stop fucking around with self pity and try to get a life."
Our convo was interrupted by the phone ringing. Mark answered it. When he returned from the call, it said it was Candy. He had a leaking cockstand, which he didn't bother to hide.
"Must've been one pretty hot convo," I smiled. Then I had an erection, which I also didn't bother to hide. Instead, I actually put one hand inside my boxers and caressed it. And if he noticed, then it was just too fucking bad. Hey, he was a guy wasn't he? Guys played with their cocks. Anyway, he did notice, but he didn't say a word about it. Meantime, I was wishing he'd lighten up, and stop being so aggro toward me.
One of the advantages I had over guys who had been circumsized was being able to rub my foreskin up and down my cockhead to get the thing worked up.
"Good night," he said, then turned off the light.
I stared for ages into the darkness, thinking about Cody. My eyes started to sting. Mark was right. I was on this whole self pity trip. How does one come out of it, though? I pulled my boxers off, and threw them on the floor. I hated sleeping with fucking boxers on. And I thought, "If Mark doesn't like it then fuck him." Hey, I didn't think he liked sleeping with boxers on either. So if he wanted to act like a fucking virgin around me, then let his cock get strangled by the cotton.
I ended up crying myself to sleep 'cause I was feeling so fucking worthless. "You know something, Gary? Cody was the only person who saw anything worthwhile in me. Everyone - and that includes you - thinks I'm the fucking scum of the earth. I guess Wingnut thinks that about me now too. My folks coudn't give a shit, and my friends - who aren't really friends - are either dealing with me or buying from me. By now Mark has made it pretty clear to me that I'm nothing but a disruption to his life up here. Who knows? Maybe Fingers is fucking him or blowing him or whatever. It was pretty fucking open at the dinner table. Then Mark acts all fucking shy around me like some fucking nerd boy. By now I'd made it my sorta mission before leaving Joburg to tell Mark about what happened outside the club in Cape Town [when I had a couple of my druggie friends beat him up]. And how much I hated him for coming into Code's life, and stealing his heart."
"But at the same time, Gary, I was scared shitless 'cause of Mark's temper. I'm actually determined to come clean, and then say 'fuck it' if people don't like me. I've never written like this before, but I've been reading the mail Cody sent you. And he was sending you like fucking reams of paper every fucking day! Who the fuck is Nick? Or even the Zulu? ;O He sounds like a totally cool dude. Did Cody ever tell you where he stays or anything? I've been meaning to ask about him forever."
[No, Steve. Everything I know about Nick and the Zulu is in the Nick story. And what an awesome story! Another big thank you to the Codeman].
"Don't get fucking upset about me and Mark. I'm writing this like I was thinking at the time. I know you think Mark is like God's gift to Cody, so don't get all upset about my own thoughts. Told you I was going to be honest when I write."
[You're doing fine, mate. No amount of half-truths, deception, or lies could ever compare to a single word of truth. I appreciate what you're doing, and how hard you're trying. And if I can speak on behalf of the readers, so do they].
In the morning, I was woken when a cup of coffee was put on the floor beside my bed. It was Fingers. I was laying on my stomach, and the covers were off. So were my boxers. Not sure if Fingers pulled off the covers, but I figured I would have felt that if he had. For a moment, I was tempted to give him a good look at my cock and patch of blonde curlies, but then thought better of it.
When I looked over at Mark's bed, I saw that he was still sleeping. A cup of coffee was also beside his bed.
"Have a good night's sleep, Steve?" he asked as he gawked at my cute butt. Hell, why not? I had an eminently gawkable butt.
Then he went over to Mark's bed, and sat on the edge of the mattress; all the while keeping an eye on me. I watched him place his hand on Mark's chest, which caused him to wake up right away.
"Hi, Mark. Sleep OK?"
"Pretty much," the god said with a yawn and a stretch.
Mark moved so that he could sit up in bed. But Fingers kept his hand on his bud's chest, then let it slide down to his stomach.
Oops! With Mark awake, I figured I'd better pull the covers back over my naked ass. Meanwhile, Mark's boss was letting his fingers drift over Mark's pecs and abs, which really made me wonder what the fuck? Just how far did he and Mark actually go? It wasn't like the bossman was ugly or anything, but...
Mark got outa bed, and tried unsuccessfully to hide his piss boner from us, then took his awesome bod to the bathroom.
"I'll bring breakfast over to the yacht a bit later," Fingers said.
I must've dozed off again, 'cause I was woken by Mark who told me that it was time to move our asses.
"Thought you were gonna work out?"
"I already did."
"Ah, fuck, man. I wanted to join you."
He picked up my boxers off the floor, and threw them at me. "Here, man. Get showered and dressed." Then he got a clean pair of overalls from the closet, and gave me those.
The rest of the day was pretty much like the day before. Mark didn't make one single comment about what I'd done the previous day. Zilch.
This time, I kept my overalls on, and the sweat was running down my body in rivers. I was soaked through and through. My boxers were sticking to my skin like I'd been swimming in them.
Later, the guy who was designing the whole thing arrived. He examined the boat, then bitched about something that was fucked up on the outside fairing. There was a lot of respraying that needed to be done.
Mark was nodding his head, listening intently, and agreeing with whatever shit the designer dude was talking about. I didn't have a clue. When the two guys came into where I was working, the designer offered me his hand, but Mark didn't even bother to introduce us. The dude was a nice enough guy, but one of those no-nonsense type of people. He looked as though he was in his early thirties, and spent most of the day working alongside Mark. They had to sort out some stuff with the hull at the blunt end. I could hear them talking from where I was working in the stateroom.
I'd been working like a dog, and finally completed the unit that I'd started work on the previous day. Should I call Mark to come check it out? Fuck him. If he was that interested, he would've checked it before. Nah. Prob was, as much as he was annoying me and getting under my skin, I actually did wanna get along with him. I wanted him to get to like me. "Hey, Mark? I've finished this job. You wanna check it out? See if it's OK?"
He spent like fifteen minutes checking out this piece of wood. And then. "Pretty nice job, bud. The inside still needs to be finished, though."
"I thought it would be OK."
It's not. I know it's a bitch to get inside there, but it's gotta look as good as the outside."
"OK. I'll get to it right now."
"Take a break first. Looks like you've been sitting under a waterfall."
"Thanks," I said with a sigh of relief. "I will."
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