Coach Me

There’s a dark, wood paneled joint around the corner on Cortlandt Street called McEnery’s, that I had been to a few times with some downtown locals I met in the gay bowling league. I recalled that it was cheap, served great wings, and had dollar beers until 10:00. I led Tom around the corner and through the old oak door to the pub. The jukebox was blaring in the corner, some babe singing about love gone bad. We pulled up two stools at the bar and ordered a couple burgers. He seemed much more comfortable here. I laughed at myself for trying to impress the coach with some pretentious show of New York sophistication. Truth be told, I prefer the homey warmth of McEnery’s to glitzy palaces like the Millennium, too. As we waited for the food, we talked about old times, new times, and Matt. I told him of my years in New York, my job in advertising, and my lackluster love life. He told me about the conference he was attending, and that he planned to go back to Pennsylvania on Friday, unless he got a better offer... 

The taxi ride back to my apartment was tense. I wasn’t sure what we were getting into, what Tom intended, and what I expected. All through dinner he never came out and told me his story, I still wasn’t entirely sure he was gay/bi/whatever! I know that we sat very close in the darkness of the cab, our legs pressed against each other. We were like kids on a first date, not sure what to do next but eagerly anticipating the unknown. I smelled him next to me. Warm and masculine, not flowery, more like soap or lotion of some kind. I looked at him in the darkness, the lights from the passing marquees and streetlights sparked in his shadowy eyes. He was looking intently at me.

We rode the elevator to the 27th floor. I was chattering on about nothing and everything. The weather, the lady who watches my cat for me when I go away. I wished I could just shut up, yet I heard myself go on and on. I opened the apartment door and let Tom in. The terrace off the living room is the first thing that you see when entering the place, a sweeping view of Central Park and the towers of the East side, shimmering in the night like pillars of diamonds. The cars snaking across the transverse roads through the park look like strings of pearls and rubies in the darkness. Tom headed right for the glass door, and I slid it open. Frosty air swept into the room as we stepped out onto the balcony. The glittering metropolis stretched out before us: big, noisy and unimaginably beautiful. We looked to the right, downtown to where the World Trade Center used to rise aggressively into the sky, now just a dark void on the skyline. 

I leaned back against the banister, and faced Tom as he looked at my town. He came closer and leaned against me, pinning me between the rail and his torso. He was breathing heavily, and I felt his heart pounding against my chest. Holding the rail on either side of me, he pressed his lips to mine and we kissed. The breeze picked up a bit, tugging at our shirts, tossing our hair and sending a chill down my spine. I held Tom tightly against me and felt his powerful arms encircle my waist. He looked at me, searching my face for an answer. 

“Tom...Oh, Tom, I’ve thought about this for so long. Tell me what you want...”

I knew what he wanted. He pulled me down to the rough cement floor. The feel of his large sturdy body pressing down on mine, pinning me firmly onto the deck, was making me swoon. He fumbled with his belt and opened his pants. I reached down and pulled his boxer briefs under his scrotum and took his throbbing dick into my hand. It was hard as iron, thick and damp with pre-cum. He grabbed at my pants, and pulled them off me. Tom was wasting no time; he had waited twenty years, I guess that was long enough. Flipping my legs over my shoulders, he entered me roughly and quickly, pushing fully into my asshole with one great plunge. He hesitated just a moment for me to adjust to the assault, and began driving his cock into me with deep, insistent thrusts. I could feel the November wind blowing across our bodies as we writhed and moaned under the yellow moon. The sound of the traffic came up from far below us. I held on to his rock-hard biceps and took his dick deep into my rectum. He tore at my ass with animal passion, pulling almost fully out of me and pounding back in with a grunt. I needed him to fuck me, I wanted this, so I drew his heaving body to me with every jab of his potent cock.

I came first, smearing my cum across our chests as he rocked on top of me, my legs wrapped around his waist, his furry belly rubbing against my stiff cock. He wasn’t satisfied, and continued to pump his prick into me, faster and faster. I felt his thick tool opening me up, spreading my asshole as he slid deeply into my body. Finally he pulled out of me, and holding his swollen cock in both of his fists, shot his creamy thick load of cum onto my belly. He collapsed on top of me, crushing the air from my heaving chest. My ass was burning like fire, a searing pain that I would carry with me for days afterward.

After a minute or two, Tom adjusted his boxers and pulled up his pants. He went into the apartment without saying a word to me. I could hear water running in the kitchen, and I assumed he was cleaning himself up. I lay there in the chill, and felt the first snowflakes of the season fall onto my bare legs. I pulled myself together and went back in. Tom looked sheepish, confused. I don’t think he expected it to go quite like this, I certainly didn’t. 

“Are you okay? Damn, Jimmy, I’m sorry. What the hell was that? Is that what I’ve waited so long for, a grope and a five-minute-fuck? I can’t believe I did that to you!”

I assured him I was fine. I tried playing it casual, like it didn’t matter, but he saw that it did. He saw in my eyes the disappointment. He heard it in my voice. I expected romance, and got a violent fucking instead. My fantasies about my hero, my mentor, my inspiration had turned into nothing more than nasty sex. Tom slipped on his jacket with the large crimson “T” and left the apartment.

The next morning the phone rang, but stopped before I could answer it. I knew it must have been Tom. I tried calling him at his hotel, but he had already checked out. The city was getting so much colder. Winter sucks.

The Macy’s windows on 34th street are always beautiful in December. Bright, colorful panoramas of holiday scenes and glittering fantasies. I stood in front of the largest of the series, a huge hot-air balloon filled with Muppets flying over an exaggerated New York skyline. I saw my reflection in the window, and felt sorry for the poor slug that looked back at me. I was glum that day, another man (in a long line of men) had dumped me the night before. I always get involved much deeper than they do, and I set myself up for disappointment. Carlos was incredibly handsome, and he knew it. It was only a matter of time until he met someone just a little prettier than me, just a little younger, to complement his great latin beauty. 

I hadn’t thought much about Tom Davis since he returned to Pennsylvania in November. He never called or wrote to me, despite having my number and e-mail address on the business card I gave him last fall. My only reminder that he was even in my apartment, in my arms that night was a sore ass. I felt used, but I had no one to blame but myself. I had made him a super-hero in my mind, but he turned out to be just another man. I stopped at the bakery in Penn Station for a loaf of whole-wheat, and got on the subway uptown to my apartment.

Stepping off the elevator, I ran into the lady next door who watches my cat and waived hello as I fumbled with the keys. The warm fresh bread was filling the hallway with a rich, yeasty aroma. On my way in the doorman gave me a note from a gentleman who was in the lobby a few minutes ago. I opened it as I entered the foyer. It was from Coach Tom Davis.

“In New York tonight only. Need to see you, please? Call me at (215) 555-6789. Please? Tom”

I am such as sucker. I ran to the phone and called Tom. It was his cell phone, he was in a bar around the corner from the apartment.

“Jimmy, I’m really sorry about the way I left things last time I saw you. I can’t blame you if you don’t want to see me again. But Jimmy, I only want another chance to see you, try to make this right between us. I can’t leave this unfinished. You need to hear me out and then either forgive me, or throw me out of your life.”

“What do you want from me, Tom? Do you want me to say, that it’s okay? It is okay. I got just what I asked for, and you don’t owe me a thing!”

Tom insisted that he come over to the apartment. He had to see me, he had to explain, and apologize in person for taking me so roughly and without concern for my feelings. I finally gave in, and invited him. I don’t think I would be able to refuse Tom anything. A few minutes later, the doorman notified me that a Tom Davis was in the lobby. I had him sent up.

I opened the door. Tom stood before me, his large frame filling the entrance. His heavy winter jacket made him look even stockier than I knew him to be. His salt and pepper hair was wavy and thick, his silver flecked sideburns fading into a dark five-o-clock shadow on his chin. The cold December air had brought a rosy color to his cheeks and nose. I stepped aside and let him into the apartment. He began to remove his jacket and scarf as we walked into the living room. I threw them across the back of the couch as we sat.

Tom told me how he passed the old fading photograph on the wall of the Phys-Ed building every day since coming back from New York. Every day he looked at the bright, tousle-haired Jimmy in the picture standing next to his coach. The same Jimmy in the picture that he had violated, and treated like a male prostitute. He told me that I meant more to him than that, and he hoped that the feeling was mutual.

“The day I saw you at the wrestling meet, I knew that I had to somehow be a part of your life once more. I couldn’t let you go, not again. When I came to New York, and you actually seemed receptive to me, I couldn’t believe it! Then being alone with you on the terrace, it was intoxicating. I got swept away, and lost control. It was over before I knew it started. I had such romantic visions, so many wonderful things I wanted to tell you. How amazing you look, how incredible it was to be near you again after so many years...but I really screwed up”