Gonzalo Narvreón - Stories of a married man

“Hey, do you have any plans for tonight?” I asked.

“No, nothing at all; why?” said Martín.

“If you feel like it, we’ll order some pizzas or empanadas and have dinner here, outdoors,” I said.

“Why not? That would be good, I accept,” he answered.

We decided on a couple of pizzas, and to make it whole, we ordered 1 kg of ice cream.

We talked at the water’s edge, waiting for the delivery to arrive.

The doorbell rang, and I got up to go to the door.

“I’ll give you some money,” said Martín.

“Stop screwing around; it’s on me,” I answered.

I went to the door, and for a moment, the image of those cliché scenes seen in the porno movies, of the delivery boy who ended up fucking with the house owner, crossed my mind, and imagined a threesome with Martín and that boy...

I quickly returned to reality, grabbed the two boxes of pizzas, and paid. The delivery was leaving, and simultaneously one of the ice creams was arriving... In my head, I had started to write the script of a porn movie...

I entered the house, loading the orders. I put the ice cream and a bottle of sparkling wine in the freezer, pizzas on the counter while Martín came over to help.

“Wine, beer?” I asked.

“If you don’t mind, I prefer beer to accompany pizzas,” answered Martín.

“Go on, grab the fridge; there are several bottles,” I said.

“Cutlery or with our hand?” I asked.

“Don’t be a jerk with our hand,” answered Martín.

I grabbed a couple of plates, napkins, and glasses that I put on top of the pizza boxes, and we went to the garden.

“I’m going to stay barefoot,” said Martín.

“Do whatever you want, make yourself at home,” I said.

We had a charming and relaxed time, in which we told each other a few about our lives. Martín explained his marriage history and said to me about the problems they were having and the recent separation.

The situation had indeed taken a strange turn. The guy who had wormy from the very first time at the gym was sitting in front of me in my garden, eating pizza, drinking beer, talking as if we were friends, when, at noon, he had left angry at my frustrated attempt. Finally, I had sucked him off, and he had fucked me hard... A bizarre and surreal situation.

Without realizing it, little by little and relaxed, we had dropped two bottles of beer each. I wasn’t used to drinking so much, and I was affected by alcohol. From the sparkle in Martín’s eyes, I imagined that he should not be used to it either.

“I can’t eat anymore; I’m full to bursting,” said Martín, leaning back on the deck chair and stretching his legs.

“Me too; I ate, drank, and fucked a lot, but remember that the ice cream remains,” I replied.

“Let’s not talk any more about sex, my cock is getting hard again, and with how exhausted I am, I don’t know how the night can end,” said Martín.

Without saying anything, I decoded his commentary and copied what Martín had said; I lay down on the deck chair and remained on my back, relaxed, looking at the dark starry sky and enjoying his pleasant company.

I opened my eyes and realized that I had fallen asleep for a while. Martín had his head turned to my side and was peacefully asleep; he was breathing deeply and had a face of indescribable pleasure drawn on his face.

Of course, I thought; I had taken two tremendous ejaculations from him, added to the previous tension, food and alcohol... A perfect combo to make him fall into a deep dream.

I went to the kitchen to prepare coffee, thinking that if Martín did not wake up and not interrupt his sleep, I would leave him sleeping there.

The dogs from the neighboring house started barking. I looked out into the garden and saw that Martín was stretching out and slowly getting up. He walked towards the kitchen, still with his eyes half-open.

“Good evening,” I said, smiling.

“Oops, man... I fell sound asleep,” he said.

“Really? I didn’t realize that,” I said, laughing.

“The beer hit me badly,” he said.

“Yeah, I fell asleep too; I just woke up,” I said.

“I think if it weren’t for those shitty dogs, I would have stayed asleep until morning,” said Martín.

“Yeah, I guess so. It’s not often these dogs bark. Coffee?” I asked.

“Yes, please, this is how I wake up to drive home,” answered Martín.

“Hey, the ice cream and sparkling wine are waiting in the freezer,” I said.

“Naa, man... do you want to kill me?” answered Martín.

“No, I really want to get you drunk,” I said jokingly.

“You idiot, I have to go home,” said Martín.

“But do you have to sign in, or is someone waiting for you?” asked.

“No, man,” he answered.

“So, what’s the problem? You have the car inside, you sleepover, and tomorrow we enjoy a day at the pool,” I said.

Martín looked at me, surprised by the proposal, but said nothing. I don’t think he expected it and, to tell the truth, I didn’t expect it either, nor had I planned to make him such an invitation.

I served coffee, and we sat at the kitchen bar.

“Ice cream?” I asked.

“Well... let’s make it complete while we’re at it; tomorrow we’ll run 6.2 miles to at least lose some calories,” said Martín.

“Sure, we’ll go to the riverside walk tomorrow... anyway, don’t forget that sex helps burn calories,” I said.

“You have the fixed idea,” said Martín.

“No, why, isn’t it confirmed what I say?” I answered.

In fact, Martín was right... I had the fixed idea and intended to continue fucking with him, if possible, all night and what was left of the weekend.

I took the ice cream and the bottle of sparkling wine out of the freezer, took two teaspoons, two bowls, two cups, and we went back to the garden.

“Phew, man, alcohol hit me bad; I’m not used to drinking,” said Martín.

“Nothing is more pleasant besides sex than a good ice cream and a delicious cold sparkling wine,” I said.

The coffee and the fresh air began to clear our minds, although quickly, the bubbles of the sparkling wine immersed us in a state of drowsiness, relaxation, and surrender.

I stood up and approached Martín; I sat on the edge of his deck chair and brought my face closer to his... I noticed that he was lost in thought; who knows where. I dared and kissed him deeply. I could perceive the fusion of flavors of coffee, ice cream, and sparkling wine. It was the first time that our tongues finally crossed.

Almost whispering, he said:

“You wanted to keep me surrender like this... you know I’m awake, and in my right mind, I won’t let you do this,” he said.

In fact, I found it remarkable that Martín had not tried to move his face away from the kiss; it was clear that alcohol and tiredness had lowered his defenses.

Without answering, I deliberately inclined my champagne glass to let the contents fall on his chest.

“Ups... and now what do we do?” I said.

Martín did not answer; really, he was surrendered; he looked as if he were anesthetized.

I started to pull up his shirt, leaving his abdomen and chest uncovered and soaked in alcohol. I went through his naked anatomy with my tongue as if he were ice cream. I put some drops on his nipples; Martín, through two spasms, acknowledged his warm body’s contact with the cold liquid. I raised his arms and took off his T-shirt, leaving him almost naked, wearing only his bermudas.

I took his hand and invited him to stand up. I hugged and kissed him, and holding his hand, I guided him towards the house; we climbed the stairs and went back to my room.

We went inside, and I helped Martín to lie down on my bed. I unbuttoned the waistband of his bermudas, lowered the zipper, and slid his pant to his feet. Martín was lying on his back, wearing tight white boxers that covered his sex.