Sweet Revenge

I watched him as he stood there at the bar, not 20 feet away. As usual he was chatting and flirting with some guy, this time the guy was slim, blond and attractive. He never had a type, just went with anyone who took his fancy at the time. 

He looked good, he always looked good, and the problem was he knew it. The Italian in him showed off in the way he talked, walked and looked. He could smooth talk his way into a guys pants in minutes. All he had to do was introduce himself and you could see the guy was mesmerised by his wit and charm. That's how all the men fell for it, he'd talk and flatter his way into bed with them and leave in the morning without a goodbye kiss. This blonde guy would be no exception.

He stood with his back facing me, his tight jean clad butt in full view and the muscled thighs stretching the seams. He was wearing a dark blue shirt that clung to his every muscle on his arms and chizzled back. I watched in sadness as his hand brushed along the blond guy's exposed arm gently, as if caressing smooth fur. His head tilted back when he laughed and he ran his fingers through his short black hair which glistened in the bright flickering lights of the club.

I took a big gulp of the last of my beer and sat the empty glass on the table. I sat up straight and I kept staring his way, watching, waiting, hoping he would come my way again soon. He was moving in closer now and I knew I had been defeated, I had lost out to the blond hunk and I knew he wouldn't notice me again that night. The guy had definately caught his eye and he would go back to his later that night until the morning. 

I felt the pain and hurt rush deep throughout my body and into my veins. I felt the jealousy rip through me like it always did when he flirted with other guys infront of me so obviously. I sometimes wondered if he did it to annoy me, to make me jealous or to see me suffer. I wondered if it was just in his nature, the italian stallion blood that made him sleep with other men.

I turned to face Gary and he just shook his head in despair. He didn't bother saying anything anymore, he'd given up a while ago trying to convince me what a no-hoper Marco was. The truth was I knew it, I knew that Marco couldn't commit to me entirely and it ripped my heart in two, but I loved him. Wasn't that always the excuse?

He'd only gone to get us another beer. Now ten minutes later, my glass was empty and Marco has just bought the blond a drink. 

"You must be so dumb. Why do you let him do it?" I heard people ask. Yeah well maybe it's true, I was stupid to let him flaunt himself around so freely, but we we were good together, we got along well and the sex was amazing. I only had to be kissed by Marco to have him make me hard as rock. Him the perfect top, and me the perfect bottom, we just connected from day one and even now 2 years later things hadn't changed. The passion was still there, the urgency, the lust, the pleasure that both of us gave to one another during our love-making was incredible. Each time was as good as the last, whether we went all the way or not. Life was good.

Well apart from the cheating. That had started about 6 months into our relationship. At first he blamed the drink and I forgave him. I thought us moving in togther would help bring us closer and make him commit but it didn't work. He never changed and I was always the faithful one, and willing to take him back into my arms.

I grabbed my phone off the table and started typing a text message.

'I suppose I should just get the drinks myself tonite babe now you've found your man. Have fun tonite, hope he's worth it'

I sent it to Marco and two seconds later I watched as he took his phone from his pocket and read the message. He turned around and looked my way and our eyes locked togther. He lowered his head down for a few seconds and sighed. 

I got a reply back. 'sorry xxx'

If he was feeling guilty or ashamed it didn't stay that way for long as his attention went back to the blonde. Anyway sorry wasn't good enough. The hurt turned into anger.

I sighed and turned to Gary again who was looking at me with those sorrowful eyes. 

"I know I know, please just leave it hun ok? I'm going to get the drinks." I told him.

He nodded. I knew what he was thinking and I knew what he thought of my so called loving and caring boyfriend. I got up then went to the bar, at the other side from Marco and his 'flame of the month' and didn't look at them. I came back with mine and Gary's drinks. Just glancing quickly back at Marco I noticed that he was nibbling on the guys ear. I felt like someone had punched me in the stomach and nearly threw up. Gary came over to me.

"We should go. I'm not sitting here and watching him tear you up like this." 

I agreed with him and left the drinks alone. As we walked past Marco and the blond guy, I stopped and waited for Marco to see me and he did. His face showed a mixture of apologies and guilt but he didn't come with me, he never did.

*****

Outside I felt the tears building up. 

"I've had enough of his shit and if you had an ounce of sense...." Gary started saying, but I knew what was coming.

"Gary don't. It's hard enough as it is without you two at each other's throats all the time. I appreciate your help hun and I love you for it but I want to deal with this my own way and in my own time."

He sighed but nodded. He gave me a hug and I returned it willingly. It was always this way, always every month Gary would be there to comfort me, to hold me. He was a good friend, my best friend and the one person I could rely on. Even thought he was gay, we didn't have sex and we never had done. It was never an issue with us and we never felt that spark that had to be there for us to go that far, never felt conected in that way. I suppose we could if we wanted to, if we were pissed enough, but it never happened and neither of us mentioned anything other than being friends. I'd thought about it, oh many times I'd wondered what it would be like to have Gary's cock up my ass. I'm sure he'd wondered the same but that's another reason why we aren't compatiable. We're both bottoms. Now fuckin a guy is pleasurable and it feels good, but I prefer to be on the recieving end.

Gary kissed me on the lips, not a sexual kiss, although it was long and soft, but a friendly 'it's ok, I'm here for you' kinda kiss. I smiled and returned it, just as slow and just as deep. I pushed my tongue to his lips and he willingly opened his mouth and our tongues met. Only for a few seconds we kissed like that then pulled away. 

Marco said many times how strange he thought it was for two guys to kiss like we did and not feel anything sexual at all. In fact he wasn't the only one. Many of our ex boyfriends felt threatend by how close we were as friends and some didn't believe that we weren't fuckin with each other. I suppose in a way it is weird, but Gary and I had know each other since high school, and had always been the same and even at 29 years old things hadn't changed. I suppose that's why Marco trusted me, he knew I wouldn't cheat, knew I would always be there for him, knew that Gary and I wouldn't fuck around together. 

We jumped into a taxi and Gary dropped me off at home. I prefered to be alone when Marco met some guy. I always had some glint of hope that he wouldn't stay out all night, that he would come home any minute and take me in his arms. I still couldn't understand why though. He had a high sex drive, but so did I. Hardly a day went by without both of us getting off together in some way. Why did he need other men in his life?

I suppose I should be grateful that he never had relationships with these men, they were just one night stands, nothing special, nothing important, just someone to fuck around with. He always came back to me, I was the guy he wanted to be with, to stay with, the guy he loved. 

That's the way I saw it anyway, the way I wanted to believe. I'd thought about revenge so many times, about fuckin with another guy. I'd imagine what his face would be like if I stayed out the whole night, would he be angry, hurt, upset, jealous, or would he not bother one tiny bit? I think that's what I was afraid of the most, me being out all night and coming home to find him calm and rational. I would know then how he really felt about me, if he loved me like he said, if he wanted and needed me as much as I did him.

I thought about ringing him, texting him, but it was no good. I'd given up with the begging and pleading long before. I just had to except it, this was him, Marco, the guy I loved and the guy I needed in my life. Ok so maybe once a month or so he would sleep with another guy, but that was it. Other than that we were fine and dandy, good together.

But did I? Did I have to put up with the shit I was getting? Not a lot of people would. I had to get revenge somehow, not revenge as such, as in physical pain, but I had to see what all the fuss was about and why he felt he needed to fuck other guys. What was the thrill of it? What was it that gave him pleasure to know he had a boyfriend at home waiting for him but kept him with another man? What was he getting from others that I wasn't giving him? Why wasn't I enough? Is he enough for me?

Maybe I should find out.

To be continued....