I had managed to make it down to the pizza parlor, but I wasn't sure how. I was in one of my bottomless pits as I called them. I could always feel them coming on. The beginning was like being on the outer edge of a whirlpool. The current wasn't strong but you were being slowly drawn in. It was almost imperceptible...just a slight pull. If I was busy with something else, I might not even notice the tug. Then the pull would get a little stronger. There was no mistaking it. I knew I was on the way down and there was nothing I could do to stop myself from plunging into the abyss. It was at those times that I put in for a short vacation. I would say that I had to go to a wedding or that my mother needed me for something or that I was going to meet an old college buddy for a few days on the coast. I wouldn't need a lot of time for this...just a bit of time to recover.

Then I would go home and wait for it. It was so strange...knowing it was coming like that. It was as if there were two of me...a rational me who was in total control of his world, and an irrational me who was at the mercy of a series of emotions that, once they had begun, must run their course. The rational me would feel it coming and in a mild panic, try desperately to stop the process; but the irrational me would just relax and wait for the inevitable...it would come...it would pass. I couldn't decide which was the smarter me. Was the irrational me actually the more rational since the rational me had never been able to stop the process? What was the point of fighting it? I had never won. Maybe I actually enjoyed the deep depression. Maybe I was more comfortable there. I had certainly spent most of my life there. Happiness was foreign territory to me. It was just a place to visit from time to time. I certainly didn't know how to live in happiness. Ah, but I was the master of depression. No one did depression better than I did. I was the master of appearing to be happy when the bottom was falling out of my life. Suffering well was my supreme gift.

I had tried, really I had. I had taken every mood altering medicine known to man. Paxel, Zoloft, Prozac...all had given it their best to raise my mood. All had failed...dismally. Now I was on Wellbutrin. This would be my first despair on Wellbutrin. Good news to the Paxel, Zoloft and Prozac people. Wellbutrin would now join their ranks as grossly inadequate to cheer the champion of depression. I had defeated the great drug monopoly one more time. There was a certain satisfaction in that. Perhaps I would order myself a plaque just as soon as I had returned to normalcy. "Depression Man...champion of the great abyss! No antidepressant can touch him!" It was bad enough to be depressed. It was worse to revel in it. I needed pizza.

Pizza tasted so much better when you were really depressed. It was truly depression food. The farther down I went, the more I needed pizza. And it had to be pure pizza with lots of good ole thick tomato sauce...none of this modern sissy pizza with bleu cheese and artichoke hearts. Pepperoni was allowed, but nothing more. If I was exceptionally down, even pepperoni was out. Only cheese would top my pizza...the worse the depression, the more plain the pizza. That first touch of hot tomato sauce to the tongue... oh yes! And that first ice cold drink of Coke stinging all the way down the throat...perfection! Together with a great depression...well, there was just nothing like it on earth, that's all. Bring my goddamn pizza. Bring it now, wench. I want to wallow in my misery with heavy dough and luscious tomato sauce before I start my climb back up out of the abyss. Bring me my goddamn pizza!

I had to be careful. I had almost yelled that out loud. No sign of the pizza or the pitcher of Coke. Yes, I could eat the whole damn pizza and drink the whole fuckin' pitcher. Any problem with that? Hey! I might just be a "depressaholic." Was there a 12 step program for depression addicts? I'd have to see. There may be hope. My head seemed so very, very heavy. Maybe I would just lay it down on the table until my ambrosia arrived.

Someone was looking at me. I could feel it. There was this vague warm feeling coming from some direction or other. I could always tell when someone was looking at me because there was that dull warmth oozing here or there. Don't think I'm crazy. I always know what it feels like and I'm always right. Someone was looking at me. It was probably the pizza wench here with my pizza.

I opened my eyes slowly...no pizza girl. I would do a slow, clandestine room scan. Can't be too careful. Not necessary. There he was. Our eyes met. He was down at the end of the far table and he was looking at me...and smiling. I don't know what he looked like. All I could see was teeth...his teeth...white teeth...shiny white teeth. The glow from those teeth burned into my flesh as it radiated across the room. Too much! Can't stand it! The shine, the shine! Make it stop! Please make it stop!

I would just put my head back down on the table. Maybe he would go away. Maybe someone would piss him off and he would stop smiling. He had to go. I couldn't eat my pizza in the stark glare of his teeth.

"Excuse me, sir, are you all right?"

"What?"

"Are you okay? You're pizza is ready."

"Oh, yeah, sure, I'm okay. Thanks."

It was the pizza wench. She put down my pizza and walked away. He was still looking at me and he was still smiling. He would ruin my wallow. My pizza was the pinnacle of my depression. It was the whole point as far as I was concerned. No one could get in the way of that. There was nothing else to do. I would speak.

"Could you please look the other way?"

"What?"

"Could you please look the other way? Your smile is a little too intense. I need to eat my pizza in a more subdued atmosphere if you don't mind."

"You don't like my smile?"

"It's not that I don't like it exactly. I just can't handle it right now, that's all. Please..."

"All right."

Ah.... He stopped smiling. I can't deal with such good humor on an empty stomach. Good. The darkness is cool and matches my mood. That smell...faint, but...could he have been eating anchovies? Yes, I definitely smelled anchovies. Anchovies and smiles...where do these people come from?

"You want to talk?"

What the hell? The smiler was standing behind me. The anchovy breath was nauseating. Make him go away. Make him go away. And he wants to talk. Why don't they understand? Can't they see? Bloodshot eyes, heavy beard, greasy hair. The sensitive ones know. The sensitive ones would stay away and let me languish in my pizza. They would take their anchovies, bow their heads, and silently steal away. But not this one. This one wants to talk. This one is from hell!

"Talk? No."

"You sure?"

" I'm sure."

"But you look so down. You sure I can't help?"

"Yeah, you can help. You can wave your wand and make yourself disappear."

"You don't have to be nasty."

"Apparently I do. You're still here. Just go away... please."

"But you're depressed."

"No shit."

"I'd like to help, if I can."

I stood slowly, turned around and faced down my smiling demon.

"Who the hell are you, Mother fucking Theresa? I like being depressed. It's what I do best, but I can't do it if people like you insist on fucking interrupting me and asking me if I'm depressed. Fucking yes, I'm depressed. I want to be depressed. I love being depressed. Now take your smile and your goddamned anchovy breath and get the hell out of here."

I turned away and sat back down.

"It's not good to be depressed and alone."

I would have to kill him.

"It's a hell of a lot better than being depressed and having someone try to talk your ass off."

He laughed. The fucker laughed. I would have hit him with a big piece of my pizza, but this one had a really nice slice of pepperoni on it and lots of wonderful melted cheese. He wasn't worth it. I stared down into the golden beauty of my melted cheese and spoke very softly, but very clearly.

"Look, whoever the fuck you are, just go away please. I know you're probably the nicest guy on earth and I'm probably missing one of the great friendship opportunities of all time here, but if you don't leave right now, I'm going to have to hurt you, and I really don't have that kind of energy right now, so please, please, please, just turn your happy-assed body around and fucking leave me alone."

He left. Thank you, God. Nothing is worse than to be enjoying a good...no, no a great depression, and having some idiot try to talk you out of it. The pizza was really good. He had left just in time. One more minute and everything would have been ruined. The sauce would have been cold and the cheese would have hardened. Aaah...such heavenly, heavenly pizza and, mmmmmmm, what a nice, nice big glass of ice cold coke. Oh, shit this was good...mmmmmm. And then I would be off to my apartment, pop a couple of Wellbutrin and sleep it off. Bliss...pure bliss! I put my paltry tip carefully under the pizza pan and stood up, ready to leave. When I turned to go, there he was. He was sitting at the table right behind me! Jesus Christ!

"You fucking son of a bitch. What are you trying to do? Do you have a death wish or something? Leave me alone."

"I want to help. Please let me help you. I've been where you are."

"You are where I am! That's the whole goddamn problem! Besides, if you had really 'been where I am', you would know that the last thing in the world I would want is somebody trying to be 'there' with me...especially someone who smiles. I want to be alone. I need to be alone. I am now going to take my sorry ass out of here. Don't you dare follow me. Go and help that guy over there in the corner. He looks very concerned about something. Perhaps you can foist your incessant good will on him."

And with that, I started for the door...only my trick knee picked this precise time to go out on me. What a terrible time for this to happen. I had just delivered perhaps the best exit line of my career and I was now going to fall face down onto the disgusting floor of the Goody Brothers Pizza Parlor. There was no stopping it. That's what I was going to do. You know how in a movie, when something horrible happens, and the action suddenly switches to slow motion so you can really, really get into it? That's what happened to me. I did not fall quickly and mercifully to the gritty floor...no indeed. Instead, I fell for what seemed like hours, down, down towards the red and black blocks with the wispy covering of two day old dried dough crumbs. Down, down, down I went, towards the sickening blotches of hardened pizza sauce, until, with a loud cracking sound, I hit the hard surface, my head bouncing up and down over and over on the hard tiles...my arms flailing helplessly in all directions.

All was still....

"Oh my god, are you all right?"

My body was all right, but my poor psyche could take no more. That was it. It was one thing to be depressed. It was another thing to be depressed and to have one's trick knee go out in the Goody Brothers Pizza Parlor after the finest sarcastic exit line ever delivered by man. I laid there on that dirty, gritty, pizza sauce splotched floor and I cried. I did. I cried like an idiot. I just laid there on the floor and let the tears pour forth. I don't know where they all came from really. I hadn't cried for years, and every tear I had ever held back in my life came rushing forth to crash down from my eyes onto the red and black surface beneath. I didn't try to stop. I didn't have the strength left to stop. In fact, it felt so good to cry, I didn't want to stop. I had no intention of stopping. I would cry and cry until there were no more tears. I would cry until all the moisture had flowed from my body and there was nothing left of me but a pile of my clothes and a little dust where my body had been. It felt good to cry. Who knew when I would be able to cry again?

It was probably impossible for the manager not to notice a grown man lying on the floor of his pizza parlor crying, and so he came over and stood just above my head, looking very puzzled.

"You know this guy, Chris?"

"We haven't met formally, but we have talked a bit."

"Well, get him out of here, will ya? The kids are watching and all. A thing like this is bad for business. These druggies...they're everywhere. Just drag him out onto the street and lean him up against the side of the building...whatever. I just can't have him in here. Will you do that for me, Chris?"

And so I was forced to rely on "the kindness of strangers"...this one, the smiler...with anchovies on his breath. He knelt down beside me and tenderly helped me get up. I felt guilty. I didn't expect tenderness. I didn't deserve the tenderness. He was quite strong, so he lifted me right up to my feet without bringing me to my knees first. I was thankful. Having to put weight on my knees would have been excruciating. I knew I wouldn't die from my injuries, but I wasn't so sure about his breath. If I died, it would be his anchovy breath that would kill me. I tried to turn my head away, but it was difficult. Death by anchovy breath...somehow that seemed poetic in a pizza parlor. He took my arm and gently placed it around his neck. Instinctively I gripped his shoulder. I was still crying, but only slightly, and I was nearly finished. My reservoir had almost dried up. I couldn't wait to sue the pizza parlor. "Druggie!" I fell goddamnit. I fell on your dirty, greasy floor. I would make an iron clad case for slipping on the greasy floor. The Goody Brothers Pizza Parlor had not heard the last from me!

"Can you walk at all?"

"I think so."

"Good."

"Where is your car?"

"No car. I live close."

"Close enough to walk?"

"I think so."

"Well, let's try. You can't stay here."

"I don't have to thank you, do I?"

"What?"

"I don't have to say thanks or anything. I don't think I could. Not after...."

"No, you don't have to thank me."

"Good. I just couldn't do it...you know. I just couldn't."

I pointed in the direction of my apartment and we started walking. Perfect. It had begun to rain. If I had written this script ahead of time it couldn't have been better. The rain was the final and perfect touch. I started to cry again, softly like the rain. We stopped. I laid my head on his shoulder. I had nothing left...nothing. Everything was gone. I began to collapse. He felt my body start to give way, and put his arms under mine and held me up. Something about his embrace was comforting. I knew the only reason he was holding me was to keep me from falling, but that didn't seem to make any difference. Someone was holding me. Something deep inside me responded. Instinctively, I held him in return. I held him as though, if I let go, I would disappear. I believed that. There we stood embracing in the darkness, the rain pouring down on us, my head resting on his shoulder. What a sight we must have been, the two of us standing there bathed in the flickering neon light of the Goody Brothers Pizza Parlor: "Pizza...Eat...Pizza...Eat."

"We're getting soaked. We really should try to move on now. You think you can do it?"

His voice brought me back to reality. "Yes. I think so."

And so we walked...haltingly. There were so many things I wanted to say. I wanted to tell him that I wasn't this weak or as mean as I seemed to be back in the pizza parlor. I wanted to tell him that he could leave any time he wanted...that I would be all right now...I could make it the rest of the way on my own. I wanted him to know that I had a good job and that I was a manager in my firm and that I was respected at work and that no one else had ever seen me cry like that...that I had never cried like that...and that I never would again. But none of that came. There was only silence. We walked on, my arm around his shoulder, his head turned away so that I wouldn't have to smell the anchovies on his breath.

"This is it."

"Here?"

"Yes. Second floor."

"There's an elevator, I hope."

"Yes, just inside the door."

"Good."

I fished for my key in my pocket and found it. I gave it to him and he helped me up the two small steps to the stoop. The pain was beginning to subside a little, but my knee still throbbed. As we entered the lobby, the Booth sisters who lived next door to me passed us on their way out. They looked back over their shoulders at us as they put up their umbrellas, the expressions on their faces making words unnecessary. What a sight we must have been...a man trying to get his drunken friend home? Probably. I had finally lived down to their expectations. It would give them something to talk about...a reason to ignore me. The pressure was off. Friendship was impossible with the Booth sisters. The evening had been worth it.

The elevator door opened and we carefully moved out into the second floor hallway. My apartment was two doors to the right down the hall. Again I just pointed. I don't know why I didn't speak. Silence seemed more appropriate somehow. Apartment 2 C, home, sweet home. The same key would work here. The door opened easily and we stumbled in.

The apartment was a mess. There were clothes and dishes everywhere. A depression like mine did not come easily. There were requirements. Dishes must be dirtied and discarded. Clothes must be allowed to fall and lie crumpled where they landed. There should have been cigarette butts all over in smelly metal ashtrays and little burn marks in all of the tables, but unfortunately I didn't smoke. I would have to take up smoking for my next depression. I would also need to drink. There should be a half-empty bottle of Jim Beam on the counter. Humphrey Bogart would have got it right. I could do better. I would do better.

"Put me on the sofa."

"I'll need to clear a spot."

"Never mind that. I can clear it when I'm in it."

"But you're wet."

"I like wet. Just put me down there."

I sank down onto the sofa, laid my head on the throw pillow, and closed my eyes. This is where I had landed. This is where I would stay...maybe forever. Maybe I would just lay here and die. That's how tired I was. Living any longer would take so much energy. No, I wouldn't die. This was not the perfect depression. I would need the cigarettes and the whiskey. I would survive for one more. When I got it right, they could find me dead on my sofa.. The scene would be perfect. The cigarette would have burned clear down, the long ash still clinging there. The shot glass of whiskey would be beside me on the floor where it had fallen, a small brown stain around it. An open pill bottle would be on the table. One pill would be left in it. My body would look peaceful somehow, like I had gone to a better place. No, a can of coke and a bag of Fritos would definitely not cut it. I could hear it now: "The guy was drinking coke. How depressed could he be?" By sheer determination I would make it through the night. I would hold out for better things. God, my leg hurt. I started to drift off.

"You sure you're okay?"

The smiler! I had forgotten all about him.

"Uh, sure, okay...thanks. I'm sorry, I mean, for the way I acted. I was just depressed and..."

"Don't worry about it. I understand. I've been there a couple of times myself. You're awfully wet. You want me to get you something dry? You don't want to lay there in wet clothes all night. How about the bathroom? Can you get there by yourself?"

"I'll be all right. My leg is much better now. You can go."

"You're sure?"

"I'm sure. Thank you. I owe you."

"No, no you don't. Not anything. Well, good night then. I'm just going to write my number here by the phone. I don't live far. If you need anything, anything at all, don't hesitate to call me."

"No, I won't. Thank you."

The door closed and I drifted off to sleep. Nothing could stop this slumber, no aching knee, no wet clothes. This would be the deep, deep sleep of complete exhaustion.

I don't know how long I slept...probably not long. The wet clothes were driving me crazy. I had to get out of them. I was almost desperate to get out of them. It was as if I was trapped in them. In my half asleep, half awake state, I began to thrash wildly and pull at them, trying to tear them from my body, so that my skin could breathe. If only they didn't itch. If only they....

A hand touched my shoulder. Holy shit!! I rolled off the sofa onto the floor and looked up, ready to fight for my life. It was him. Why was he still here? He had left. I had heard him go. Who the fuck was he?

"Who the fuck are you?"

"I couldn't leave. I was going to go, but I couldn't. I couldn't leave until I knew you were really okay. So I closed the door and stayed...until I was sure you were all right."

"You scared the fucking shit out of me."

"I'm sorry."

"You scared the fucking shit right out of me."

"I said I was sorry."

"You couldn't have said, 'I think I'll stay for just awhile, or, 'Maybe I'll just wait until you fall asleep'? You scared the shit out of me."

"I'm sorry. I meant well. I'll go now."

"No, wait a minute. I'm really pissed that you did that, but I'm really glad you're here. These clothes are driving me nuts. I gotta get out of them. Can you help me? My ass is itching like you can't believe. I've obviously already blown suave and sophisticated with you, so, the way I see it, I've got nothing to lose, here. It won't embarrass me if it won't embarrass you."

"No, I don't think it will be a problem. I'm beginning to have the same problem myself."

First he had to help me get back up on the sofa. That embarrassed me more than having him see me naked would. I'd been in lots of locker rooms, but no one had ever had to lift me off the floor before. I had already unbuttoned my shirt. It slid off my body with a "whooshing" sound. The air on my skin was wonderful.

"Could you get a towel from the bathroom, uh...?

"Chris, and, yes I can and I will. I can't believe you're still this wet."

Chris came back with the towel and wiped off my back. That too felt wonderful, the roughness of the towel scratching my poor itching back. I had now done pretty much all I could do without bending my knee. It simply wasn't in me to ask him to take off the rest of my clothes, so I just sat there not knowing exactly what to say. He seemed to sense my feelings and started immediately to remove my shoes and socks. Again the wonderful feeling of cool air against flesh. Now my pants.... I simply decided not to let it bother me. He was a stranger, but this was necessary and there was simply no reason to be embarrassed. But, god, I was embarrassed. I couldn't help it. I looked away as he started to unbutton my pants.

And then it happened. My dick started to get hard. Holy shit! What was I going to do now? It had never occurred to me that this might happen. It always happened in the doctor's office and embarrassed the shit out of me, but Dr. Burgess had said not to worry about it, that it happened to a lot of guys, so I had stopped worrying. But this was not Dr. Burgess. This was Chris somebody who had just helped me home after I had insulted him at the pizza parlor and called him Mother fucking Theresa and had fallen on the floor and had cried on his shoulder and now he was helping me take my pants off and my dick was getting hard!

"Stop!"

"What?"

"Stop. Don't take my pants off."

"But they're wet. You need to get them off. I thought you wouldn't be embarrassed."

"I was wrong. You're just going to have to go."

"Look, what's your name?"

"Chipper."

"Chipper? You're kidding right? No one is named Chipper for real."

"My goddamn name is Chipper. Deal with it."

"Okay, Chipper. Chipper? Really?"

I gave him a dirty look.

"Look, Chipper, you've got to get your pants off. If you don't, by morning your butt is going to be shriveled to the size of a grape. We are both boys here. There's nothing to be embarrassed about. You're way too old to care if another guy sees your wee wee, so let's just do it and get it over with."

"My dick's getting hard."

"What?"

"I'm getting a fucking erection. I can't help it. It's just something I do. It happens in the doctor's office. I can't believe it's happening here, but when you started to unbutton my pants just now, my dick started to get hard. I can't deal with that, so please go."

"Now look, Chip."

"Chipper."

"Dear God, they don't even call you Chip? The hardness or softness of your dick is immaterial here. I think we both simply need to understand that, when I pull your jeans off your wet body, there will be an erect penis there. How you want to deal with that is your business. I will choose not to notice it. Well, I'm sure I'll notice it, but I choose not to let it bother me. Penises get hard every day. Mine even has once or twice, although not nearly as often as I'd like. Are you with me on this?"

"All right. Maybe I am over reacting. Maybe I can keep it down, but it seems to have a mind of its own where these things are concerned."

"Let's just get you out of your pants and into something dry, so you can get some sleep."

With that, he continued to unbutton my pants and I continued to get hard. And when he finally yanked my pants off, there was my dick, standing straight up in all its glory.

"Holy....!

"You said you weren't going to notice."

"You didn't tell me it was going to be twelve feet long!"

"It's not."

"Well, it's the biggest one I've ever seen. Holy shit!"

"Chris...."

"I'm sorry. It just took me by surprise, that's all. My, my."

"You can stop looking now. My pajamas are in the bottom drawer in the bedroom. Will you get them please?"

I could tell by the look on his face that Chris felt really bad about what had happened. So did I. It was bad enough to be embarrassed by having an erection, but to have him react like that.... I was truly mortified. It's not that no guy had ever seen my dick hard before, it's just that, well, this was completely weird. Neither one of us knew exactly how to react. He brought me the pajamas. His face was bright red.

"Thanks."

"I'm sorry."

"No apologies necessary. This has been a very strange evening. You really have been a life saver, Chris, but maybe it's better that you should go now. I'll be all right."

"Do you want me to help you get into your pajamas?"

"No, I can do that."

"That's probably better, all things considered. Good night."

As he turned to go, I had to know....

"Chris...."

"Yeah?"

"Are you gay?"

"Even if I wasn't before, I am now. I've never seen anything like that, Chipper. That's must be the biggest dick in the world. Really, I'm not kidding. I've seen my share of dicks, but...."

I couldn't help myself. I didn't want to, but I laughed. I did have a big dick. I had never seen a bigger one, but it had never meant much to me. In fact, it had been a source of great embarrassment in high school and in college. I was elected fireman of my fraternity, so everyone on campus knew. Maybe they didn't know how big...but they knew it was big. I guess I was proud of that, but then again, I wasn't. Now here it was, once again an object of great awe. At least Chris was honest about it. If I hadn't been so exhausted, I would have found it kind of cute.

"Chipper?"

"What?"

"Are you gay?"

"Yes, Chris."

"Are you still hard?"

"No."

"Then, could I see it soft?"

"What?"

"I may never see you again. Could I please see your dick soft? I'd like to know what it looks like when it's soft. I mean, how much does it grow to get that big? Does it start out as a little...."

"If I let you see it again, will you just shut up about it?"

"Yes."

"Okay. It'll be worth it to shut you up."

I had covered myself with the towel. I took it off and closed my eyes. I really would have been embarrassed if I had watched him.

"It looks so harmless now...so innocent, so sweet."

"Chris...."

"Okay, but it is a lot different. Could I touch it?"

"What?"

"Could I touch it?"

"Oh, what the hell. This has been the strangest night of my life already. Why not? Yes, Chris, you may touch it. You may squeeze it; you may yank it; you may use it as your goddamn tinker toy. Play with it all night if you want. But I'm going to sleep."

I laid my head down on the pillow. I was going to cry again. My knee hurt. I was depressed. My ass still itched from being in the wet clothes. I had made a complete fool of myself at the pizza parlor, some guy I had never met had helped me home because I couldn't walk, and now he wanted to play with my dick. Life was perfect. Why wait for the cigarettes and the whiskey. Just give me the goddamn pills. I would make my exit right now.

"Ah, shit, Chipper, are you gonna cry again?"

"I might. You got a problem with that?"

"Will you hold off a little bit? I can't play with a guy's dick while he's crying. That ruins everything."

Tears started to run down my cheeks again. I really had no idea why. I let them.

"Ah, Chipper."

He got off his knees. Then, he gently pulled me up to a sitting position, held me there with one hand while he sat down on the sofa behind me, lowered me carefully back down in his lap, and cradled my head in his arms. That was it. I cried like a baby.. He ran his fingers through my hair and patted my head. I don't know when I quit crying, or if I quit crying, but finally the patting stopped and we both fell asleep.

I woke up as the first rays of light came through the windows. It took me awhile to remember the night before, but gradually I remembered who I was, where I was and why I was naked and my head was in the damp lap of someone I didn't recognize. I can't remember ever being quite that uncomfortable, and my knee was still throbbing. I sat up slowly, rubbed my eyes, and tapped Chris lightly on the shoulder. He opened his eyes and looked at me. I could tell by the look in his eyes that he needed some time two put it all together, so I just sat and waited. Gradually the lights came on behind his eyes and he smiled at me. Then he leaned forward and kissed me on the cheek. It seemed so natural and so warm. I blushed. He tousled my hair.

"You want to go to bed?"

"Is that an invitation?

"To sleep, nothing else."

"Accepted."

We both made mandatory stops in the bathroom and I hobbled over to the refrigerator to pour some coke down my parched throat. When I closed the refrigerator door, there stood Chris in all his glory...naked as a jaybird and totally unselfconscious about it. He was scratching his balls and yawning.

"I can't believe how good it feels to get out of those wet clothes. What I really can't believe is that I spent the night in them, sitting up on that sofa. The fact that I'm still able to move is a miracle."

He scratched his ass and yawned again. I had not really looked at Chris until that moment, scratching his ass. He wasn't handsome or anything...far from it, but I guess you could call him cute. Yeah, cute, that was it. He was about 5'9" with a stocky, muscular build. Boy, was he muscular! His biceps were amazing. He must have worked out for hours every day. That would explain the easy way he lifted me up and down. His pecs were great too, but not overly developed...just right. His chest was perfect. His waist was small, and he didn't have those great big thighs like some guys do. And nestled right there in between those nice thighs, in a really nice bed of reddish hair was the most perfect set of dick and balls I had ever seen. Everything about his body was gorgeous. He looked like someone had taken his picture and then air brushed it. He had very little body hair, and what he did have was sandy red. A very light happy trail led from his navel down to his dick. He was beautiful. I was transfixed. I couldn't take my eyes off his beautiful dick and balls.

"Earth to Chipper. Do you like what you see?"

I blushed again and looked up into the most beautiful pair of hazel eyes I have ever seen. It would be so easy to get lost there. And the smile was back. Did I say I hated that smile? Not anymore. How could I have hated it before? It was so warm and genuine, and he was so cute...yes cute. God, I wanted him to hold me.

"Hold me?"

"Come over here."

I started to walk and winced a bit with what was left of the pain.

"Oh, shit, I'm sorry."

He walked quickly to me. I was full of tension and held my arms up, waiting for the release that would come with his touch. He didn't keep me waiting, but put his arms around me gently, as I wrapped mine in turn around him, burying my head in his shoulder. God, he felt good. I pressed every possible inch of my naked body against his. His warmth against my naked skin felt wonderful, as his strong arms held me close. I don't know how long we stood there. I had needed to be held for such a long time. I didn't ever want it to stop.

"Chipper?"

"Yeah?"

"We have to move now."

"You sure?"

"Uh-huh. My arms are going to fall off."

"Okay."

Reluctantly I let go. He stepped back and once again I gazed into those beautiful hazel eyes.

"Why didn't you leave when I told you to go?"

"When?"

"At the pizza parlor."

"You needed me."

"I hated you."

"You needed me. Well, maybe not me, but you needed somebody. I was there."

"I called you 'Mother fucking Theresa', and you didn't go."

"Well, yes, that was rather crude...really funny, but kind of crude."

"You stayed. No one stays."

He held me again. I cried again. This time I felt his dick harden against my body.

"You asshole."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm crying and you're getting a hard on."

"Didn't I tell you? Other people's misery always turns me on."

I slapped his ass and pulled him close. He rubbed his hard penis against me and sighed.

"I'm not that kind of boy, Chris, I never fuck on the first date."

"This isn't a date."

"Oh, well then..."

We were going to make love. We had to make love. It was the only way out. Otherwise we would be locked in this surreal place forever. Making love would undo the horrible spell and let us out. Only, it wasn't so horrible anymore. I wasn't sure I wanted out.

"You're a top, aren't you, Chip?"

"Yes."

"Oh, god."

"You?"

"Either, but I was hoping...you'll be gentle with that, right...?"

"I'll be gentle."

"Why do I have trouble believing that?"

"Help me over to the bed so I can show you how gentle I can be."

With that, he picked me up. I'm not kidding, he picked me up and carried me to the bed and dropped me on it. When he looked down at me, I looked into those eyes, and I melted. I was his. He said nothing, but knelt down beside the bed and kissed me. It was our first real kiss, and the feeling went all through my body and out my toes. He would make love to me now. I wanted that. I would have my turn later.

After the kiss, he seemed not to know what to do next. He sort of froze, seeming to wait for some signal from me. I took his hand in mine and brought it to my lips. There I held it taking in the sweetness of him, feeling the warmth of his flesh. I needed nothing more from him than his closeness, but he needed something more from me, and I would give it, gladly. I took his hand and moved it slowly down my body, letting go of it just above my waist. I had given the invitation. It was up to him to accept. He didn't touch me with his hands. Instead, he began to kiss me at the neck and moved slowly down my body. I thought my dick would fall off it was aching so badly, aching for his touch, aching for his lips, aching to be pulled into him to become a part of his being.

Finally he reached me. Finally his lips closed around the head of my penis. Finally I could feel myself enter him, his warm mouth welcoming me eagerly inside. I wanted to cum there so badly. I had to stop myself several times as he licked and sucked and drove me crazy moving his lips up and down and swirling his tongue around the tip, sucking lightly as he did so.

"Oh, god, Chris, don't ever stop."

And then he kissed me again on the lips.

He backed away now, locking his eyes on mine. No words were spoken. No words were needed. His eyes drew me to him. His eyes told me that he wanted me...that he was ready for me. His eyes invited me inside.

What a beautiful, beautiful body! I had never seen one like it, so muscular, so perfectly formed. He stood beside the bed and I stood up to face him. Then, with my hands, I lightly traced every inch of him, feeling every part of him, beginning at his feet and working my way slowly and tenderly upward. When I reached his lips, tears were running down my cheeks as I touched them , first with my fingers and then with my own lips, so lightly as to barely be felt, then with more and more pressure, until, finally, we were locked in a deep embrace... a deep, passionate embrace, our bodies rubbing urgently together. I couldn't get enough of Chris, nor he, of me. It was a moment of complete ecstasy that I will never forget.

Then carefully I laid him down on the bed on his stomach, spread his legs apart and knelt between them. His penis was hard and lay beneath him. I leaned down and took it in my mouth, sucking eagerly and caressing his balls and his sweet ass. He groaned softly. I parted his ass cheeks slightly, moved between them and began to softly rim him. His groans became louder and more urgent as I worked my tongue around his beautiful rosebud. He raised his buttocks slightly inviting me in, and I carefully inserted a finger, causing him to gently writhe, as once again I took his beautiful dick into my mouth. He was ready.

I leaned forward and kissed him on the neck, allowing my hard dick to rub his ass as I did so. The feeling of my hard dick on his soft, supple ass cheeks was unbelievable. Then I kissed him slowly all the way down his back, the final kiss falling once again on that beautiful part of him to which I would now make love. A condom, some lube on me, on him. I worked the lube carefully inside him. We were ready. I would have to be aware of my size. Chris was strong, and oh so sexy, but I had the feeling that his experiences with men had been few. I would be tender. I would be loving. I would be careful not to allow pain to interfere with pleasure. This would be a passion he would never forget.

His ass was gorgeous, round, firm and oh, so pink, and I entered that perfect part of him very slowly, pausing often while he adjusted to each stage of my entrance. The slow progress was not easy for me, because I wanted so badly to be completely inside of him, to be holding him...to be fucking him. At each stage, as I entered still further, if there was a sign of pain...I stopped. Then, when he was ready, he would relax slightly and let me know that he was ready for more. It was a slow, careful, almost agonizing process, but I knew that the final lovemaking would be well worth it. Besides, while the slow entry had been excruciating in one way, in many others it had been one of the most amazing sexual experiences of my life. Each stop, each pause, each adjustment made by Chris to accommodate my entry had built my sexual urges ever higher until my body was at the point of exploding with sexual desire.

At last, I could hold back no more and with one final thrust pushed myself all the way inside. Chris made no sound, but the reaction of his body told me that I had caused him pain. His body tensed, clamped and held tight to every inch of my huge, hard member. Hot...it was so very hot inside him. I was going to come! No...not now...not yet! He sensed what was happening. Neither of us moved. It passed. We both sighed audibly, then fell silent, our bodies still, my arms wrapped around his body in a loving embrace, our breathing in sync. Gradually he relaxed and I knew he was ready.

It was a sensual whisper: "Fuck me, Chipper. Fuck me deep. Love me. Make me cum...make us cum together."

I kissed him softly on his back, and I started moving...slowly...just barely, as he adjusted to new movement inside him. Both of us began a soft moaning now as our bodies joined together in a slow and wonderful undulation. Not too fast, at first...feeling the head of my dick pushing gently in and out, the wonderful warm friction of him bringing me ever higher. Now a little faster, a little deeper, a little more...balls swinging, brushing softly against his ass...now more...in...out...in...out. Oh, yes...oh, god...all of me...all of me part of him...him pushing up to meet my every thrust...a low guttural sound coming from him...louder and louder...now I began a scream...endless...never stopping. Faster and faster...deeper and deeper...calling out to one another: "Fuck me, Chipper, fuck me, baby. Fuck me, oh god yes, oh god." Thrusting, thrusting, tightening legs, tightening ass, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, rising, rising, higher, higher, balls aching, pounding, together thrusting, together rising, rising, rising...screaming, ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh......building! building! building! final thrust, straining, screaming, bodies stiffening..........cummmmmmmmiiiiiiiiiiiinnnnnnnggggggggggg!!!!!!!

Silence. Breathing. Sweating. Kissing. Moving. Stopping. Moving again. Turning. Kissing. Holding. Pulling apart. Breathing. Reaching out. Touching.

"I love you, Chipper. Maybe not forever, but right now, god, I love you. Please kiss me."

I took him in my arms, held him tightly and kissed him deeply. I loved him too. Our bodies tightly together, feeling our dicks between us, warm and soft now, the final drops of our lovemaking moist against our skin. In sweet embrace we fell asleep.

A kiss on the cheek woke me up. Chris was standing above me, smiling.

"I have to leave now, Chipper. Some of us have to work, you know. Will you be all right?"

"Sure, Chris, I'll be fine."

"I've left my cell number by your phone. Call me if you need me. I'll be here right away, I mean it."

"No, no, my leg's fine."

"I meant your depression, too. If it gets real bad, I don't want you sitting here alone. I don't want you doing something stupid."

"Like fucking someone I just met at a pizza parlor?"

"No, that's okay. Only good people eat pizza. The sexy ones eat them with anchovies. Please, Chipper, I mean it."

"I know you do, Chris. Do I have to be depressed or hurt to call you?"

"What do you think?" (He reached down, took my penis in his hand and squeezed it.)

"I guess not."

Chris bent down and kissed me softly and lovingly on the lips and then turned and was gone. I would love him one day. I knew that. Maybe not tomorrow, or the next, but one day.

I went back to work two days later, a day earlier than expected. My limp was still noticeable. When anyone asked me what had happened, I just said that I had slipped at my mother's house and fallen. I hoped that that's where I had said I would be going this time. My best friend at work, Michael, came into my office to welcome me back.

"You seem extra happy today. That trip home to your mother's must have agreed with you."

"It was great...very restful."

"You look great. The Wellbutrin must be working well too."

"Oh, I'm not taking Wellbutin anymore?"

"You're not?"

"No. I've found a great new antidepressant. It works wonders."

"Really, what is it this time?"

"Pizza...with anchovies."