The Alternative Lifestyle Experiment

 Alternative Lifestyle Experiment

Brian is trying an experiment with an alternative lifestyle. He needs Justin’s help.

 

 

Brian’s Report:

Well, okay so this is just an experiment. I just want to see if I can do it, see what it’s like. It’s not a big deal. No one needs to even know that it’s happening. Least of all Justin. Because he’d make it into a big deal. I think. Or maybe not. Once he would have, but now maybe not. I just don’t know, and the last thing I need is any pressure, so I’m going to just keep it to myself.

But I want to do it properly, which means recording things as I go, so that I’ve got some sort of record of what happened throughout the experiment. That way, if it goes off the rails, I can at least prove to myself that I tried.

So here goes.

Day One: Thursday

Nothing to report. Perhaps a trace of anxiety, but I guess that’s natural. Everything else is pretty normal. Justin was here last night, which I have to admit helped. With no car, he’s been staying here more. It’s saves hassles. So that means he’s on hand if I need him. Shit! when I need him. Because I did. And I will, the longer this experiment goes on. But it’s only for a week. So I’m sure it’ll be okay. I want to see if I can do this, and having him here just makes it easier.

Day Two: Friday

So far no problems. Well, there was one moment at Woody’s where I wasn’t sure that I could handle it, but then Ben made a great pool shot, and that distracted me, so it was okay. Justin turned up a bit later and we went home and had an early night. Well, we got to the loft early, but it was a while before we got to sleep.

It’s funny. He’s always been a little hottie, right? I mean, I was never going to spend any time with some troll. But tonight when he walked into Woody’s I thought “Fuck! He is so fucking gorgeous!” I just wanted to drag him back to the loft right away. Even the backroom wasn’t going to do it for me. I wanted time to savour him, not some quick fuck up against the wall. That just wouldn’t have been enough, so when we did get back here I wanted to make the most of it.

We’d fucked twice before we ever made it to the bed, and after that it was long and slow and torturous, and so fucking good. I’d always thought that being with the one guy over and over would just be paralysingly boring, but I’d never envisaged anyone like Justin. He’s not only as hungry for sex as I am, he knows all my sweet spots and just what to do with them to drive me crazy. And the sounds he makes when I stroke his can drive me over the edge all on their own.

The funny thing is that to be honest (and I might as well be honest here, right?), from the moment he walked into Woody’s tonight I forgot all about the damned experiment.

Day Three: Saturday

We got home from Babylon at about two this morning and I fucked Justin into the mattress. It was hot as usual. Then he insisted that he wanted to have me. He has this thing about needing to top occasionally for whatever reason; and lately, if he wants to do it, I seem to be the one he expects to bottom for him. Normally I guess I’d just tell him to find a trick and go to the backroom and get it out of his system before we go home or else go without, but I … well, lately I don’t really feel like sending him off with a trick for some reason. And I guess I know that I’m going to need his full attention if this experiment is going to work out, so I can’t really do that anyway while the experiment is on. So, last night, that meant letting him have his wicked way with me.

For someone of his body type, Justin has a big cock. Hell, Justin has a big cock, period. It’s just really unusual for someone with his body type. I don’t bottom often, so I’m pretty tight, and after a session with him, I am very aware that I’ve been well fucked. This morning I was still feeling sore. Not that I’d ever tell him that. Hell! he can take it as often as I can get it up, and my cock’s bigger than his. I’m not going to squeal about how sore I am after one fuck like some pussy little fag. But I have to admit it’s been one reason why I haven’t let him top me all that often.

After last night, though, I might have to rethink that, because it was certainly worth a bit of soreness this morning. We did it on that ratty old couch that his mother dug up from somewhere. (Personally I’d rather go without than have that thing in the loft, but it does have its uses.) I was on my knees on the seat, which put my ass at just the right height for Justin, and gave me the back of the couch to brace myself against; which, god knows, I had to do. He rimmed me first, and took his time opening me up with two or three well lubed fingers. He even took his time pushing that great bloody cock into me. In fact, I was ready to start screaming at him to fucking hurry up.

But once he got started he rammed my ass good. Gave me what the Brits would call a thorough seeing to: hard and fast, and then slowing it down to the point where I wanted to beg for more (I didn’t, but I had to bite my tongue to stop myself), and then, when he was ready, it was wham! bam! while I held onto the back of the couch and prayed it didn’t give way. When he decided it was time for me to come, he didn’t even touch my cock, just pressed his up against my prostate for a few seconds, so that I went onto overload, and then pulled back and gave it two tiny nudges and I came so hard we might never get the stains out of the couch.

This morning we blew each other in the shower before I went to the gym. He did the supermarket shopping while I was out and I got home before him. I jumped his bones as soon as he walked in the door but he made me wait till he’d put the cold stuff away, then we gave the couch another work out. Unfortunately, we were due at the Munchers’ so we didn’t have time for more, but we made up for that when we got home.

Day Four: Sunday

Okay, so it was my own stupid fault for leaving this lying around. I just needed to go to the bathroom. When I got back, Justin was packing it into his bag with his sketchbooks. He said he thought it was some of his school stuff. Of course, when I claimed it back he got all curious. And this is Justin, right? The single most persistent person on the planet. I knew he wasn’t going to let it go until I told him what it was.

I guess I could have made up some bullshit. Or even just told him it was a journal, or an ideas book, or something, but … it’s not like I’m ashamed of it.

Be honest, Kinney. The truth is, maybe I did want to let him in on it. Just him, though. I made that real clear to him. That I trust him to understand, and not to rag on me about it, but he’s the only one I can trust that way. And I did my best to make it clear that it’s just an experiment. For a week. One week. That’s all. Just to see. The thing is, though …

He tried so hard to stay real cool about it, but I saw the look in his eyes.

Shit! Damn! Fuck! I knew that he was going to read something into it.

But he says it’s okay. He insists that he’s fine with it. That he knows that it’s just a sort of personal dare. That after the end of the week it will be business as usual. He laughed and said, “I know you, Brian. I told you. I know what I can expect from you. I know this is just a personal thing that you’re doing for you. It doesn’t have anything to do with me. I’m okay with that and I’ll still be okay with it next week and the week after. Don’t worry about it.”

The thing about that is, that I don’t know whether to be relieved or pissed off.

Isn’t that a killer?

So maybe that was why I did something totally out of character and took him out to dinner. True, finances being what they are, it was only to the Chinese place down the road (within walking distance, how pathetic is that?) where the food is good but the décor’s pretty cheap and nasty. But I have to admit, it was a date of sorts. We even walked there and back hand in hand. I knew this whole relationship shit would turn me into a fucking dyke!

Maybe it was the date thing, or maybe the experiment is getting to me, or maybe it’s just Justin who’s getting to me, but when we got back, all I wanted to do was climb into bed and make … Shit! see what I mean? “make love” for fuck’s sake! It’s fucking. Just fucking. Isn’t it?

Anyway, whatever you want to call it (a fuck by any other name would feel as hot?) I just wanted to do it slow and sweet and fall asleep all curled up round him. And he seemed to be feeling the same way, so that’s what we did.

The thing is, thinking about what we did last night, doing that, with Justin, that’s hotter than any sex I’ve had with any trick. Or, not hotter, exactly, but more satisfying. That’s it. I feel more satisfied after a quiet fuck like that with Justin than after the wildest sex with any trick I’ve ever had. Fuck! I am turning into a dyke. And I am so not going to let him read this entry. I should never have written it down. Except that I do want to know, at the end of this experiment, what I was thinking and feeling while it was going on, and how can I do that unless I’m honest in what I write down here?

Day Five: Monday

Justin insisted on going back to Daphne’s this morning. He said he’d come over tonight “if you really want me to”. Like I’m going to call him after that and ask him to come over. Shit!

Maybe he’s just ramping things up for the experiment. I bet that’s it, the little fucker! He figures him being here makes it too easy for me. Well, I can do this with or without that little bastard.

Who am I kidding? I kept myself occupied during the day by researching some companies that I’m going to contact about possible openings for an advertising genius who’s so talented he managed to take on a client and place him on top of the heap and then knock him right off again just to show I could do it. Whatever.

Anyway, just like normal when I’m working, I was fine and focused till it was time to turn off the computer and think about food and playtime. Only then my playmate wasn’t here.

So the options were to go over to Deb’s or Mikey’s or the Munchers’ or to say to hell with the experiment and just go out and play.

Yeah, alright, I guess I could have gone to Woody’s or to Babylon and continued with the experiment, but shit! that would have been just asking for trouble.

And the problem with going over to someone’s place, is that they would have wondered why I wasn’t either with Justin or at Woody’s or Babylon or the Baths looking for some trick. And they would not have wondered in silence. Not that crew. They would have gone on and on about it.

So in the end I decided to catch up on my pop culture and watch some TV.

Justin didn’t call. I thought he might. Okay, I hoped he might. But I guess he didn’t want me to feel like he was checking up on me. So eventually I called him.

Hell, now that he knows about it, he’s my research assistant, so I have to keep him updated on the results, don’t I?

I guess the phone sex part was a given, really, and it was surprisingly hot. But it really wasn’t the reason I called.

Partly I guess that I did want to let him know that the experiment was still progressing, even without his presence.

But a lot of it was just that I wanted … yeah, okay. A lot of it was that I just wanted to talk to him; to hear his voice.

Is that what this experiment is doing? Turning me into a total dyke?

Maybe. But if that’s it, how come I feel so good about it? Even … good about me. Jesus! where did that come from?

But you know, I do. I’m sitting here totally beyond broke, in debt up to my long sexy eyelashes, without a job – a total deadbeat. And talking to this little twink makes me feel … No, see, that’s it. He’s not a little twink any more. If he ever was. He’s this incredibly beautiful, sexy, intelligent, talented man who wants me. Who wants to be with me. Who chooses me. Every night at Babylon he could have just about any guy he wants, and he chooses me. Even when he ran off with the fiddler, in the end, he chose to come back to me.

So when I’m talking to him; whether he’s here or whether it’s like last night and we’re on the phone, just laughing about something dumb someone said (with our friends, there’s always something) or making plans for how we’re going to handle this mess our careers are both in, or just comparing notes on some dumb TV show and should they really have tried to get that overweight straight guy into that shirt?; whenever we just relax together, I feel good. I feel good about me. About who I am. Just because of how he sees me. Like, I don’t have to be some ultra- smooth successful suit, or some super-stud, or some kind of super hero.

Just Brian is enough for him. Which means that, for the first time in my life, I feel like just Brian is okay. He may not be the greatest guy in the world, but he’s okay.

Day Six: Tuesday

I was getting maudlin so I stopped last night. Honesty is one thing, drooling drivel is something else.

After going without all day yesterday, (the phone sex hardly counts), I thought today was going to be tough, but it turned out okay.

I went to the diner for breakfast. Nothing to do with the fact that a certain non-twink was working the early shift. Just that Deb takes pity on the poor and makes sure that I get endless refills on the coffee and tries to load me up with carbs as well, without troubling the cash register over much.

Anyway, I was hoping to persuade him to come home as soon as his shift finished, but, wouldn’t you know, he’d “promised Lindsay I’d help hang some stuff for the GLC art show”.

I can not believe that that’s come around again. It feels like they have one every couple of months. Anyhow, I know I’ve got no chance of competing with that, but I decide if I tag along I can at least spend some time with Gus while the two banes of my existence share their little artsy moment.

I guess maybe one side effect of the experiment, especially after being Justin-less all day yesterday, is that my usual calm and placid demeanor is a bit more easily ruffled than usual, because the cretins at the GLC took only about 10 mins to drive me to swear at them long and loudly and cart Gus off to the park. Of course, without a car, it had to be the nearest one to the Centre, and I wind up getting cruised by about fifty guys in the space of a couple of hours. Seriously. Not to mention the dykes falling over themselves to hit me up for sperm donations.

You’d think at this stage of the experiment that I’d be at least tempted (by the cruising, not the dykes!) but it was pretty much a turn off. I mean, I had Gus with me. What did they think? I was going to park him in his push cart outside the toilet block while I let some guy suck my dick inside? Or did they imagine I’d use them as a sex ed demonstration for my two year old?

Whatever. There sure as hell wasn’t any risk that the experiment was going to be scuttled by any of those losers (although some of them were kinda hot).

Actually, I just kept wondering how long it was going to take before I could drag Justin away and get him back to the loft.

Once we finally got there, I had him pressed up against the door as soon as he pulled it shut. I grabbed his hands and pinned them over his head and ground my pelvis into his so that he could feel my hard on while I just stared into his eyes for what seemed like a long time. I was already really hard and from the feel of what was jutting into me, he was pretty much the same way. Eventually he pulled one hand free and wrapping it round my neck, pulled me down to kiss me.

I’d been so intent on being the aggressor, that I hadn’t really considered that he would be as horny as I was. It was touch and go who got rid of whose clothes faster, and by the time I’d managed to get a condom out and roll it on my cock, he already had his back to me and was shoving his fingers up his ass to lube it ready for me. I damn near came on the spot just watching him.

That first fuck was really wild. He was shoving back against me, and making this incredible noise – sort of guttural and shrill at the same time, and I felt like I couldn’t get enough, couldn’t get deep enough, even when I was buried in him up to my balls. I remember that at one stage I hooked my arm round his waist and hoisted him off the floor just in an effort to plough deeper into his ass.

We wound up down on hands and knees rutting like a pair of fucking animals. Literally. It was amazing.

Afterwards, I pulled out of him and he just collapsed onto the floor. He’d been taking most of our combined weight and his arms just gave way.

I got rid of the condom and helped him up and then suddenly I was holding him, and he was holding me, and it felt so damned good.

The sex had been great and I knew I’d want more soon, but for that moment, just holding each other felt so perfect.

Then he turned his head and kissed me. Just gently, not like the wild biting and sucking of a few minutes before, just his lips pressed so softly against mine. And the feeling went from perfect to even better.

Yeah, I know. Dyke.

Or maybe not. I told him once that I’d wanted to make him the best homosexual he could be.

Maybe now he’s helping me make myself into something; something more than I was.

See, that’s the thing. I always felt that being with one person, being “monogamous” meant being something less. Less than the super stud. Less than the guy who could pull any trick he wanted. Less than the Brian Fucking Kinney legend.

But just maybe I got it wrong.

It’s too early for me to say that. Too soon to let go completely of what I’ve believed for so long. But I am beginning to wonder …

Anyway, Justin cooked something and we ate, and we discussed the companies I’d researched yesterday, and talked about what Justin’s options might be if PIFA don’t rescind his suspension.

I think they will. He’s too talented, and, honestly, he could kick up too big a stink about them caving in to political pressure. He’s finally going to contact Senator Baxter, which I’ve wanted him to do ever since it happened. Political pressure can work both ways and it’s time he got some mileage out of that connection. I reckon they’ll be glad now the election’s over to just quietly take him back.

We even tossed around some ideas about the future, about maybe one day being able to start our own marketing company. Until I can get the debt sorted, it’s a bit of a pipe dream, but it’s something to think about. We are a good team. We work well together, because we respect each other, but we challenge each other, too. That’s healthy, I think.

We talked for hours, and by the end we were on the computer (the one I bought him – he wants to sell it, but he’s still going to need it when he goes back to school, so we’ve agreed to share it) arguing over company names and designs for a logo, and shit and all of a sudden we just stopped talking and looked at each other and bingo! we were tearing off each other’s clothes again and rolling around on the floor.

Who knew talking could get you so hot?

Day Seven: Wednesday

After last night’s talkfest, and the fuckfest that followed, we had a quiet start to the day. A lazy sixty-nine session followed by a long nap and then coffee and pancakes. (He’s killing me and I don’t even have the treadmill anymore to work it off.) Justin was working the evening shift tonight, so after he’d left for work I did a bit more research on demographics and stuff for our possible future company and then headed down to the diner for a late dinner.

Mikey and Ben came in about nine and wanted me to go with them to Woody’s, but I told them I hadn’t finished eating and that I’d catch them there later.

Then Emmett came in and we talked for a while. He’s really working hard at building up this party planning business, so we tossed some ideas around about marketing it more effectively. He actually wants to pay me to put together a sort of mini campaign, but … that would just be too weird. He can pay Justin to design a proper logo and stuff if he wants. Not that Justin would take money from a friend. Hell, I had to fight to get him to take money from the GLC.

Anyway, that kept me occupied until Justin was finished. We did go over to Woody’s for a while then, but it wasn’t a lot of fun.

Money, of course, is an issue. I’m allowed to buy one round of drinks for Justin and I, and he’ll do the same, but after that if I even think of heading for the bar, I get this feeling in the back of my neck and when I turn around, there he is, giving me that look.

It’s hard to describe the look. It’s not exactly disapproving, or threatening; it’s not even really a frown. It’s more a sort of anxious look. No, not anxious, concerned. He worries. He worries about what’s going to happen to me. He tries to take care of me. He’s not like Mikey, all “Brian can you really afford …?”. He doesn’t say anything. He’s just there, looking out for me, and caring.

Once that would have driven me straight into doing whatever it was that he was worried about me doing. But for some reason, that just seems dumb now. Mind you, back then he probably couldn’t have resisted saying something to try to stop me either. I’m not the only one who’s got smarter.

So now when he gives me the look, I just take a breath and let the warm feeling I get from having someone care about me like that, from having Justin care about me like that, wash over me.

And after that, all I wanted to do was take him home and … show him I care about him, too.

You know, at that moment, that really was what I wanted to do more than anything else in the world - just to find a way to show him. So I did. Several ways, in fact.

I still may not say all the stuff he used to think he wanted to hear, but I think he’s getting the message, just the same. He seemed to last night anyhow, from the appreciative noises he was making and the way he held me afterwards, all warm and sticky in his arms, till we both fell asleep.

And that was the end of the week.

Which means, I guess, that the experiment was a success.

I wanted to know if I could go a whole week without tricking, and I did. No problem. In fact, looking back over it, it was kinda weird, because I didn’t even think about it much. I mean, there’s hardly anything in here about the tricks I missed out on or stuff like that. It’s mainly about Justin.

So I’m thinking that maybe a week wasn’t really that much of a test.

A month, now …

 

4th Sept 03

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