Keyhole Feelings (Story)

[Guest Guest_Heartlander]

Keyhole Feelings

Someone once told me that when two persons meet, a door opens but its key will be tossed into the deep sea. You either keep the door open always, or you will never be able to open it again.

Fate only knocks on your door once. The second time you hear a knock, it’s but a delayed echo that finds it way back to the slammed door.

********

He looks like any other property agent, smartly clad in business wear, worldly wise with a blue-tooth earpiece jutting out from his right temple, and chrome-surfaced PDA phone firmly worn on his waist. He is known as Mr Hock to his customers; and although at the tail end of his forties, he is aging like a well-kept mahogany furniture with a veneer of mature charm and quiet confidence.

He is suave when he pitches business, like a persuasive senior. It helps when he looks like a protective father figure, replete with thickset limbs and neck – he makes most want to seek refuge in his paternal musculature and disposition at first sight.

Hock is aware of his own physical merits. He may be no hunky model, but he knows he has what a woman, or even man for that matter, craves for. Female customers, young and old, surreptitiously eye his meaty body frame, one that was molded from his active sportsman endeavours and helping out in the family’s provision shop shouldering rice sacks in his younger days. He may have grown more paunchy entering into the sedentary middle age, but has never fallen ill, impenetrable even to the common flu bug. The last time he had come face to face with a doctor was at his late father’s death bed.

Deep down inside, Hock knows he is sexually gifted. He has an unstirred penis sized like a mature carp. When he take out his penis for a leak at the public urinal, the shadow of his prodigious tool often aroused the attention of the other men standing beside him. Even straight men gawked at his blessed proportions with great envy.

But Hock is hardly a happy man, which explains why he smokes a lot. However, he makes a painter’s portrait when he takes a puff, his laugh lines deepening into his skin by at least an inch, his jagged brows nearly meet between his face in the midst of a heavy drag of breath. With his weight transferred to one leg, his broken stance hints of James Dean, only much beefier.

Hock is separated from his wife for the last decade, and also his four grown up sons, who should be in their early twenties today. Even as kids, they take after his body shape, fleshed out with rugby thighs and Popeye’s arms. He is silently proud of his strong genes, hoping that they will too inherit his sexual prowess. He misses his children badly, but seldom let it show on his face.

It was at the height of the property boom in 1997 that Hock and his wife’s relationship became irreparably strained. He was riding on the market boom, working day and night to make his million dollars for a better future for his family. She, on the other hand, got reunited with her ex-schoolmate, and spent sweaty afternoons in his car, with windows lined with dark sunscreens.

Hock now lives alone, sometimes with a convenient lady dropping by for an overnight stay. He mostly comes home late after work, takes a bath, and often dozes off before a TV sports channel. Occasionally, his feet kicks a beer can on the coffee table and he wakes up staggering into the bedroom. He often forgets to turn off the TV set, nor clear the empty beer cans amidst the heap of peanut husks.

********

Han looked at the property advertisements in the newspapers with glee on his face. He relished at the fact that prices have climbed up significantly in recent times, and he has waited for close to a decade for this moment.

He put down the papers and delightedly surveyed the four corners of his apartment: He can’t wait to sell his house, it has been a burden to him in many ways long enough. He finally could see light coming from the distant keyhole. He smiled at the wall, although bitter feelings were starting to well in his heart.

Han and his ex-boyfriend bought this apartment during the 1997 property boom to live in as well as hoping to rear a golden investment. In those bullish days, everyone was maniacal about making a quick buck from the market. But when the market crashed in the late nineties due to the Asian currency crisis, hopes were dashed, hearts broken, even lives were taken.

It was in the midst of the depressive economy that they fell apart. Han’s lover lost his job, yet they had to struggle with the housing mortgage which became a nightmare under inflationary interest rate pressures. Tearful quarrels took over steamy sex and broken furniture carpet the floors, until Han woke up one morning to their half-evacuated wardrobe. Han’s lover left without a word, leaving him saddled in mortgage arrears and misery.

Over the years, Han took on multiple jobs to cope with the throat-cutting mortgages in order to save the house from being sold at a huge loss. While it did not make economic sense to dispose of the house, it was painful dwell in it, especially when it was once a love nest wallpapered with romance and affections.

Almost ten years on, now 2007, Han is finally coping well with his finances. While he hasn’t found a new lover, he has found a better job. By now, he has forgotten how to date a man, or even get intimate with one. He has been too used to arresting his own sexual urges in the privacy of his bathroom, with the shower head raining tears for his loneliness.

[GachiMuchi]

Welcome back Heartlander.

Nice to see your stories here again.

[akated]

it's always nice to read (to-be) steamy, yet lyrical stories. can't wait for the next installment heartlander!

[night listener]

Will some idiots come flaming the author for not stating that its fiction?

After all, what he wrote is so realistic with true historical facts.

[GachiMuchi]

Well, I think we welcome his posting, but if any flaming is going to happen, lets see what kind of flame.

We welcome discussions from people. Let's not anticipate things yet.

[maturemedium]

:clap: :clap: :clap: :clap: :clap: :thumb: :thumb:

got stories to read laio..!! Yippy..!! Better then reading endless request about massage sevice with happy ending when there r more than enuf information in the forum laio :swear:

[sgk9]

Good writing, keep it coming pls...

[Guest Guest_Heartlander]

When two persons meet, it is random chance. And when they fall in love, it is random charm.

Hock woke up in the morning with soreness around his spine. It was as if the arch of his back was resting on a rugby ball the whole night. It must be that the mattress is getting too soft for his aging back, or could it be his bad sleeping posture on the sofa earlier in the night?

He stared at the ceiling motionless on bed, yet he could see the peak in his boxers at the lower rim of his pupils. Could it be that his mountainous erection is getting too heavy for his spine to support at night? He smiled in his mind, at how he was even capable of such an irreverent thought at his age.

Hock got up from bed, feeling the crush in his striped boxers when he leaned forth. Agitated by the stubborn stiffness beneath his waist, he removed his puffed-up boxers carefully, mindful not to hurt his gigantic tool. He looked down at his naked rod, eight inches of turgid flesh, curled up as if yearning for a lick. Hock straightened his foreskin, inadvertently massaged his cock head like soothing an angry pet.

Walking into the shower room, he passed the mirror hanging above the basin and his own reflection gave him the illusion that there was another person in the house. He must be feeling so lonely …..

********

The sea of advertisements from property agents in the newspapers makes selection a chore. Being spoilt for choice isn’t always a blessing, especially when the advertisements all look alike except for the phone numbers. Han put down his steamy coffee mug, randomly selected an advertisement and dialed its displayed number. 9 • 2 • 7 • 2 • 1 • 8 • 7 • 4 …… and a monotonous dial tone greeted his ears.

Hock’s phone vibrated gently on the side table beside the bed. It went unnoticed as he was in the bath. He was feeling the ball of flesh thickening his waistline, suddenly ashamed of his deteriorating shape. Staring at the mirror, he thought his body looked like a fat tree trunk, good for hugging but also unsightly.

He caressed his still muscular shoulder caps and the thick stacks of chest which were still somewhat reminiscent of his physical prime. Squeezing his lower chest, as if to test if he was dreaming, he was glad to feel a numbing pain.

The phone was incessantly hopping on the table, like a wound-up toy on release. But Hock was too busy looking further down his wet body. Water sheets slid over his undulating upper body, tickling his nipples and navel before converging at his groin, and breaking into water droplets behind his hairy balls sack.

Suddenly the phone dropped motionless. So was Hock as he stood beneath the shower head, letting the water fondle him all over, even in recesses and grooves that he could not reach with his bare fingers.

********

Han detached the phone from his ear. Suddenly he was overcame by a faint shadow of the distant past: That fateful morning where his ex-boyfriend left without a word. One half of the emptied wardrobe was exposed, some things on the book shelf were discernibly missing, and his heart was throbbing with fear and panic.

He reached out for the phone to call his ex-boyfriend repeatedly, but nothing but series of rejecting operator messages left behind for him.

[Guest Guest_Heartlander]

Nobody wants to be alone. Being alone makes one feels like a nobody.

It is hard to put the past behind. Even when the sea subsides, it leaves behind a beach. And when Han’s ex-boyfriend left the house, the same bed they used to sleep on seemed to have grown in size. Even the tube of toothpaste became indepletable.

Han shook himself out of the haunting recollections by rising to rinse his coffee mug; while Hock stepped out of the bathroom wrapped in a tiny towel with a generous slit by the side.

Two loners from two corners of the atmosphere, linked by a missed call. Han slipped into the sleeve of his business shirt; Hock pulled up his full-cut briefs that tightened instantly when his massive groin was contained within. He spontaneously adjusted the front of his briefs, his sizeable, tubular penis curled up off centre. He attempted to shift it through his cotton briefs, giving up upon an accidental sight of the clock on the wall that told him he was getting late.

Hock never have his pants hanging on him. Rather, he swells them up with his fleshy protuberances. Like melons in a woman’s stockings. You could see a defined arc of valley from his rear and a delicious hump at his crotch. But Hock is blinded to most of his bulgy attributes, and much less aware that they are drawing discreet stares from people around him all day.

Shirtless, still waiting for his back to dry completely, Hock walked over in butt-hugging pants to the side of the bed to check his handphone. One missed call, from an unfamiliar number. He called back, suspecting it might be a prospective customer.

Han heard a muffled ringing tone through his trousers while knotting his laced leather shoes. He silently cursed at the ill timing, while rushing to tighten his shoes. Beating to receive the call, he groped into his pants pocket reaching for the phone.

‘Hello,’ he accepted the call gasping with breath.

‘Hi, I am Hock here, I believe you were looking for me,’ Hock’s morning voice was rough as a sufferer from chronic tonsillitis. He coughed gently for more voice to effect politeness.

Han was mesmerised by the husky larynx. Although it was raspy, but there was a discernible resonance, the kind you get from an authoritarian yet affectionate daddy figure. There was something in the voice that rendered Han speechless, he just wanted to hear more of it. Hock, on the other end, was faking to be attentive, although he was slipping his belt through the waist of his pants - the handphone sandwiched in between his ear and shoulder.

‘Hi, can you hear me?’ Hock’s tried to elicit a response from the other end of the phone, finally tightened up his belt, looking somewhat smarter with the metallic belt buckle adorning the crest of his stomach.

‘Yes, yes ….’ Han finally came to his senses. ‘I got your phone number from the papers ….. and was wondering if you could help me sell my house,’ Han’s mind was a near blank, and was afraid he was not making sense through the handset.

It was a surreal experience. Han felt like he was calling to make a date, more than to hire a housing agent. He felt a flush of warmth across his face. There was something about Hock’s voice that touched a certain part of him within …….

[oralb]

hi heartlander

is there a coding error? that you only wanted the 1st line to be bold and larger instead of the whole posting?

if yes i will amend it for you.

[Guest Guest_Heartlander]

How do you tell your house is straight or gay? See if you can enter from the back.

They ended the call briefly with Han agreeing to come back to Hock on a day to view the apartment. Han detached the phone from his ear with an unusual sensation in his chest. It felt like a severe heartburn, or a giant parasite gnawing off his aorta. Suddenly he didn’t feel like parting with the apartment, one that he long perceived as a haemorrhagic investment and ill omen.

For many years he has been fighting hard against selling the apartment at a loss – so much so the burden has become an occupation, especially in the sudden absence of the relationship. Han couldn’t get up from the couch for a long time, it was as if the past has finally caught up with him. In between the surreal experience, he could also sense that Hock’s gravelly voice lingering in his head.

Hock, on the other hand, didn’t think much of the phone call. It was just another caller testing the market, or worst, a prankster. But having been in the profession over two decades, he has learned to deal with all kinds of personalities and situations.

Hock, still bare bodied, caught a slanted glimpse of the TV set in the living hall. It was the morning news, his favourite anchorwoman spouting faultless Mandarin, looking more poised than a mannequin. Hock is somewhat intrigued by her every morning. It is as if she is exclusively speaking to him, eyes staring into his, and the movement of her scarlet lips unspeakably charming – like a pair of breeze-stirred rose petals.

Every man has his secret fantasies and kinky imaginations upon the sight of his object of desire. Hock, even at his ripened age, is capable of harbouring dirty thoughts. He always wonders about the scene beneath the presenter’s console table. Could she just be wearing a pair of skin-coloured thongs? He started to feel a tingling sensation in his heart, blood start charging through vessels, the ends of his fingers and feet numbing gradually.

He fondled his protruding ball of stomach flesh. He reclined onto the sofa, with his legs splayed apart on the coffee table, his eyes remained fixed on the TV set. Her sentence came to a halt, and trailer graphics took over the screen, heralding a commercial break.

Hock fully rested his weight on the sofa, his fingers gliding over his own crotch, which gradually hardened with touch. It was as if someone was blowing a balloon in his pants, he felt his groin tightening, inadvertently pulling some pubic hairs that were caught in between. He continued to arouse himself by gently nudging his tool, while closing his eyes to fool himself that it was her at work.

He did not remember when his pants waere unbuckled and a huge stalk of manhood was rising above his body. It was an old cock, a well-battled warrior with weathered foreskin drenched in deep-brown pigmentation. At one glance, it looked like a root of sweet potato freshly plucked from the soil, evenly thickened from the base before flowering into a muffin-faced tip.

Hock reached out for the remote control to mute the TV. He did not want to be distracted from playing with himself. He delicately stroked the stem of his penis, like he was cuddling a soft toy. While he was sufficiently stimulated, the rod in his hand feeling hard as a bus pole, it would still take him a great deal of effort to achieve a spill out. He is not used to masturbation, it is like eating alone in a fancy restaurant or watching a movie singly. Some people simply cannot perform in solitary.

[Guest Guest_Heartlander]

Salt and pepper shakers: one of the world’s longest-staying couple.

Throughout the day, Han did not think about calling Hock. Suddenly, he had become undecided about selling the house. It was as if he had been possessed or charmed. For many years, he had dreamed about the day he could sell the house, even at cost. Yet now, when the long-awaited market recovery is finally taking place, and he could possibly even profit from the sale of the apartment, he is somewhat hesitant.

Hock is tortured the whole day at work by the earlier unfinished stimulation. His full erection in the morning, caused by his dream woman on TV, did not culminate in a burst of semen. He felt like his testicles, which were normally already quite a handful, bloated like suffering from prostate infection. His dick was constantly in a semi-stirred state, causing severe tightness in his pants. Even walking from his work table to the copier machine was a pain.

Hock felt restless. He was sexually un-satiated, and could not concentrate on his work in the office. He could not release himself, yet it was too early in the day to look for ladies of pleasure - he was helpless as a locked-out toddler. Exasperated, he went down to the coffee shop near his office building for a smoking break. He reckoned it will be an unproductive day at work. Sitting at the coffee shop, stirring his tea cup, Hock felt a little calmer. But he still could not cross his legs, thanks to the unyielding bulge between his thighs.

Han was also reticent at work. He was thinking about the fate of the apartment the whole day. One minute, he seemed to have made up his mind about selling, but when he picked up the phone nearly calling Hock, he retreated to status quo almost instantly.

‘It’s now or never,’ Han suddenly willed himself to call Hock, and desperately reached for his handphone. Hock, enjoying the last gulp of his tea, was startled by his trembling phone. ‘This number again,’ he sighed, but still effected a polite voice.

‘Hi, it’s me. I called you this morning,’ Han said apologetically.

‘Yes I could recognise your number. When would it be convenient for me to view your apartment?’ Hock pressed for a commitment.

‘Erm, now?’ Han knew that he had to act fast before he changed his mind again.

‘Now?’ Hock was surprised by Han’s sudden availability, but thought that it might be a good idea to escape from the office to conduct a viewing.

Two tortured souls in their own right, making their way to the apartment - Han with a heavy heart, and Hock a heavy groin. There is always a comedic side of life.

[Guest hi]

wellcum back!!

[Riko]

I like the flow of it all.

Nice work.

[deandets]

I enjoyed the flair of the story with sussinct tinge of repressed gaydar needs

Keep on coming, cld be climax with an explosive ending

[thaiboyz]

wow....cant wait to read how the 'heavy heart' and the 'heavy groin' solved their problems....surely ended up in bed lah...enjoyed reading it.

[Guest Guest_Heartlander]

Life starts with a puppy love, then a dog’s life, and eventually dog-eared memories.

Hock came to the unit and was greeted by a panel of solid maple wood with linear grain pattern. His big, hardy knuckles made a loud thud on the wooden door, only to realise there was a door bell by the side. He felt really stupid, confirming that his form was really off that day, thanks to the achy groin.

Hurried footsteps were approaching from behind the door, Hock quickly brushed his hair with his hand in a bid to create a neat front. He also smoothen his groin across his cotton pants, embarrassed that his bulge might invite suspicions.

The door creaked open slowly, until the two of them came into full view of one another. Han was surprised that the visitor’s strapping built, his groin nearly meeting the keyhole. Hock was pleased to see a scholarly face.

‘Hi,’ Han mustered a feeble greeting, in awe of his visitor’s hulk-like built.

‘Hello,’ Hock was somewhat self conscious.

Han stepped inside the house, making way for Hock’s entry. Hock took careful steps upon the veneered teak floor until he came to the centre of the living room. He was pleasantly surprised by what he saw. The simply-furnished house was extremely neat and clean. Everything was placed at right angles with one another – nothing out of place. Clinically decorated it may be, but it also very well lived in and comfortable.

It was also unmistakable the dweller had a thing for boxes. Everything was neatly packed into MUJI-type cardboxes or wooden cuboids storage furniture.

‘Your house is very neat,’ Hock grappled for words. There was just something about the house that was not quite right. Too neat for a male dweller perhaps?

‘I like to put things into boxes, neater and also I could also move out quickly,’ Han could not help but noticed the prominent groin. It was like Hock had hidden a can food in his pants.

‘I thought young men like you like to see things out of the box,’ Hock tried to be humorous, still looking around for a hint of what was amiss in the house.

‘Ha, I don’t like complications. You can easily see through a box, no surprises,’ Han liked the way Hock’s manly voice filled his house. It had been a long time since a conversation had even taken place within the four walls, discounting that with a delivery man.

‘Would you like to sit down?’ Han extended hospitality, also curious to see what shape the groin would assume when pressed against the cream-coloured sofa.

[nicefatboy]

Heartlander please continue. dont keep us in suspense...

[Guest Guest_Shaberu]

Keyhole Feelings

Someone once told me that when two persons meet, a door opens but its key will be tossed into the deep sea. You either keep the door open always, or you will never be able to open it again. (Very true! That is love.)

Fate only knocks on your door once (never!). The second time you hear a knock, it’s but a delayed echo that finds it way back to the slammed door. (It depends on whether you want to slam the door?!!! If you love someone why not?)

There are so many things that we want to count. But never ourself, how much we take and how much we give. If you give more, you want to take more and you loose. Just laugh it off?!!!

[paddle_up]

My sentiments

Just would like to confine in this forum about the feelings that evolved in me when i saw a warm scene happening infront of me.

Was having my dragonboat training last sat, my team was taking a break listening to the coach guiding us in our strokes when i spotted a gay couple sitting at the edge of the river bank (cosy bay) chatting. It was the fact that both of them were in their middle age (around 40+) that really impacted me. The small gesture of pushing one's shoulder, brushing the hair of the other, the laugher, etc. Such a nice scene in front of me and it sure gives me hope that it is possible in our lifestyle.

[Guest Guest_Heartlander]

Hock’s massive sperm factory was drooping between his thighs almost like a bad case of groin hernia. He too noticed it himself, and was shifting in his seat, attempting to retract crotch-slide. But it was just impossible to minimise the bulge, no matter what sitting posture he assumed.

It was blameless of Han to stare down at Hock’s gigantic nest of gonads. Lip-smacking fullness between the valley of his thighs. It has been a long time since Han was visually tempted. He thought his libido had died along with his heart, since his ex-boyfriend left him. Surprising, he could hear and feel a growl of hunger emanating from his own crotch.

‘You live alone?’ Hock embarrassedly tried to deflect the attention from his outpouring groin. Han was jolted from his lustful scrutiny of Hock’s groin. ‘Sorry, what?’ He said, starting to blush. Suddenly, they both got consumed by uneasiness, and sat in a wordless exchange.

A minute crept by, they still didn’t know how to resume conversation. ‘Let me get you a drink, what would you like?’ Han suddenly found the perfect excuse to exit from the awkward tension. ‘Tea if you don’t mind,’ Hock looked up, red-faced, at his host.

Hock sat in the living room alone, suddenly calmed by the soft hum of the air-conditioner unit above him. He let his eyes roamed around the house, impressed by its spotless surfaces and quiet charm. Occasionally, he heard water running from the tap, and the clang of utensils coming from the kitchen. It made him feel homey all of a sudden. The heartwarming anticipation of a fuming mug of chamomile. And the dust-free flooring that caressing his soles.

He shrugged off the illusion he was getting. Laughing at himself inside that he must have missed having company at home. Han emerged from the kitchen, the mild aroma of the scorched tea leaves preceded him. Hock rose from his seat, ‘Thanks, thanks.’ Almost apologetically.

The base of the covered tea mug rested upon the table top. The two of them suddenly looked up at the same time, and they forced a smile at one another. It felt as awkward as a blind date.

‘I asked previously if you live alone,’ Hock broke the unbearable silence.

‘Yes, I do,’ Han was composed when he spoke. ‘In fact, this house is too big for me to live alone, that’s why I want to move into a smaller apartment. Maybe a loft, or studio apartment.’

Hock’s soothed his throaty voice with a sip of tea, ‘I know what it feels to live alone, ‘cos I do too.’ He effected such an empathetic tone that made Han sat up.

‘I would have thought you are married and with a litter of kids. No?’ Han looked into Hock’s eyes, suddenly the tension was melted by the knowledge of their similar fates. ‘Or sorry, did I ask too much,’ Han felt bad probing.

‘No, no problem at all,’ Hock smiled like a magnanimous elder. ‘I have divorced my wife for about ten years. And so I live alone now,’ he divulged with no self sympathy, it hardly pained him anymore making that disclosure.

[Guest Guest_Heartlander]

‘Ten years ago?’ Han exclaimed. That was about the same time he broke up too. ‘It was the time of the property market crash,’ he further recollected.

‘Yes, yes. Everything crashed. Asian currencies and stocks as well,’ Hock was reminded of the economic depression.

‘Relationships and homes too ……. ‘ Han added with unmistakable regret.

The two of them then remained silent. It was as if they were caught in a whirlwind journey back into the past, so rapid a ride, they could not muster a word.

Hock thought about his children again. He was seized by guilt when he recalled how his eldest son mysteriously started to stutter at the age when he was admitted into playschool. The doctor then said his speech impediment could have been a consequence of lack of self confidence, sometimes caused by unfavourable circumstances at home.

Hock vaguely remembers it all started about the time when the child was exposed to the ceaseless quarrels between his wife and him. The child, sometimes in the midst of their verbal cross-fires, would let out gibberish shouts in a bid to counter their raised voices. But sadly, he was never successful in putting a halt to his parents’ shouting matches.

Hock shut his eyes to overcome a searing pain blading through his heart. ‘Are you ok?’ Han witnessed Hock’s tortured demeanour. ‘I am fine,’ Hock half choked, ‘the tea’s too hot perhaps, it must have burnt my throat,’ Hock suppressed the stabbing ache in his chest to reassure Han.

‘Let me cool down the tea for you,’ Han rose to reach out for the tea mug. ‘No, no, it’s ok. Don’t bother,’ Hock was touched by Han’s attentiveness. ‘It’s no bother,’ Han removed the mug and disappeared into the kitchen.

Han felt something was amiss. It could not have been the tea being too hot to drink. He arched over the sink, displacing tea from the mug. He remembers his ex-boyfriend used to be a tea lover. He could drink it day and night; even soaked his feet in strong brown brews when he had blisters. His favourite china mug is now used as a container for used pastel sticks on the storeroom shelves. At least it is not discarded. But Han could not remember how it ended up there though.

But what he could remember is that fateful day he came back from work around lunch hour to nurse a persistent migraine. When he reached home,

the main door was ajar. Panicked, he entered into the house, which looked somewhat normal, except the TV set was turned on, airing some chinese variety show. Then he witnessed his ex-boyfriend’s attaché sprawled across the floor, with its flap flung apart.

Han dashed into the bedroom and heard water running inside the bathroom. The tap was freeflowing, not intercepted for washing. The door was not shut tight, there was a slit of light where heater fumes were escaping from. Han’s heart was drumming to a berserk tempo as he neared the door. He peered through the gap and saw his ex-boyfriend’s naked back arching over the basin. His body was wobbly, it was as if he was dancing on the spot.

Han could not believe his eyes. What could his ex-boyfriend be doing in the bathroom in the middle of the day? Came back for a shower? Not likely, as his office was equipped with bathrooms. A thousand possibilities, ugly and normal, were battling in head.

Not able to contain his curiosity anymore, he pushed open the door, and from the mirror, he saw his ex-boyfriend’s eyes flipping white, body wavering like in a semi-drunken state, phlegm oozing from his nostrils. A bottle of what seemed like carpenter’s glue was standing upon the basin top.

[Guest Guest_Heartlander]

Han shuddered at the haunting memory. It wasn’t about his ex-boyfriend’s ugly state in the bathroom, but more of losing him to substance abuse. Han knew it wasn’t exactly the best time to deal with the past when there is a guest waiting in the living room, and composed himself quickly.

Hock’s eyes trailed Han as the latter reappeared from the kitchen. There was a certain melancholic charm about Han. It was as if he had paralysed lips that could not be molded into a smile. It was such a waste as they were rosy and meaty, like crescent slices from a mini pomelo.

‘Thanks, that’s very kind of you,’ Hock came close to Han’s porcelain-smooth facial skin. ‘Don’t worry about it,’ Han replied with a demure expression. As Hock half rose from his seat to receive the tea mug from Han, he felt his groin further tightening, it was as if his erection propelled by an inch or two. When he sat down again, the rounded tip of his big tool was piercing against an odd corner of his pants.

Han noticed the penis dune. It was as if Hock was hiding a Yakult bottle under his zip.

‘Are you comfortable sitting there?’ Han was wondering if it was the bouncy sofa that caused the elevated groin.

‘Yes, yes, no problem at all,’ Hock’s face turned cherry as he knew Han had taken notice of his seams-bursting crotch.

Han was tickled by Hock’s rosy face. The latter had tanned skin, and with the blush, he was glowing in red.

‘You are smiling,’ Hock was heartened to see the smile on Han’s face.

‘Am I?’ Han expressed surprised, he too grew ruddy.

The two of them, sat there red-faced, starting to laugh at themselves. It was a magical moment, the ice between broke like an exploded glacier melting away.

‘You really want to sell the house?’ Hock decided to steer back to business. ‘The prices in this locality haven’t picked up enough yet, there is still potential for it to go higher in the near term.’

‘I know, but sometimes you have to learn to miss the boat. Otherwise, you don’t learn to swim,’ Han’s replied fuzzily.

‘Yes, agree. How soon can you move out?’ Hock further queried, his redness waning.

Han smiled cynically, ‘My heart has long moved out already.’

Hock, while lifting the handle of the tea mug, was startled by that reply. He lost grip and spilled half the mug of tea onto his swelling crotch.

Han’s face panicked as he swiftly reached out to grab the tea mug before it fell on the floor. In between swift actions, there was a momentary union of Hock’s protruding crotch and his palm. It felt like his hand had landed on a sack on onions – rounded corners with compactness.

[Guest Guest]

oh, this is so cruel.. cliffhanger

[Guest Guest_Heartlander]

They both profusely apologised to one another, and for different reasons of course.

Hock had a wet patch on his pants, like he lost control of his bladder. He felt bad wetting Han’s linen upholstery, ‘I am so clumsy, sorry.’

‘Just as well, I wasn’t intending to keep the sofa,’ Han was also trying hard to mask the embarrassment caused by the earlier physical contact. ‘You want to have a change of clothes?’

‘I am ok, don’t worry about me,’ Hock was at his most self conscious. But with Han’s attention on his lower body, it somehow triggered a fuller erection. ‘I just need to go to the washroom if you don’t mind. Clean myself up a little,’ Hock stood up, his wet pants adhered to him like a second skin, further defining every bump and dent on his crotch.

‘Could you show me the way to the bathroom?’ Hock effected great politeness to conceal his shame. Han led Hock into the bathroom in the master bedroom, ‘Take your pants off, and let me help you put it in the dryer. You should be able to wear it dry again,’ Han kindly offered. ‘If your briefs are wet, I could dry them too,’ he said trying to sound as matter of fact as possible.

Hock was touched by Han’s thoughtfulness. He became so at home in Han’s presence, he did not even close the door behind him. Han was just standing at the entrance, awaiting the wet garments.

Han saw Hock hastily undoing his belt. It was a manly belt with a thick width and stainless-steel buckle. Hock looked suave removing his belt, even produced the classic swoosh of a swordsman drawing his blade from the side. It was somewhat erotic even hearing the clang of the metallic buckle, Han watched on with the intensity of a viewing the climax of a p--n movie.

Hock felt aroused stripping in the presence of a stranger, and what more a pleasant-looking one. It was gratifying in a perverted way, but he was getting the kicks sliding down the zip of his pants. Like an un-dammed river, his squashed balls gushed out within the briefs. It was an awe-inspiring spectacle, which left Han gaping wide-eyed.

Hock milked the pleasure further. His fingers nibbled his balls, as if to decompress them after the long confinement. He was hoping that Han was enjoying his disrobing antics, or was he just in fantasy, he thought.

Han liked the sight of Hock’s in his briefs. Full-cut and in black, common looking like those found in the discount bins of supermarkets. But Hock’s manly endowments breathed a new lease of life into them. He not just ballooned them up, but empowered them to protect his most coveted organs.

Hock pulled the pants out of his thighs, revealing buttress chunks of thighs that could python-coil one to death. Han was so aroused, he sucked in full lungs of air to steel himself from the stimulating sight.

[Guest Awareness]

The story is great! - Matured and down to earth.

And this caught my attention [what a life lesson!!]:

'I know, but sometimes you have to learn to miss the boat. Otherwise, you don't learn to swim'

[nicefatboy]

What happen next? Tell me... I need to know...

[Guest fanmail]

it's erotic yet poetic......cant wait to read more. take your time heartlander, but not too long

[Guest Guest]

Heartlander, keep it up!

[Guest Guest_Heartlander]

Hock handed over his partly drenched trousers to Han. ‘Sorry for the trouble.’ Han yearning eyes met with Hock’s bashful glance. ‘Don’t mention,’ Han reached out to receive the damp garment, which still retained some of Hock’s body warmth.

Taking the pants over from Hock, Han was still reluctant to peel his eyes off the half-undressed man. Business shirt over briefs – the combination never looked more appealing. Half a buttock globe was peeping out from the shirt ends. Chunky thighs pale as a white shark’s belly. Han’s saliva was brimming in his mouth.

‘I’d be back in a while,’ Han’s gaze still cemented on Hock’s body. ‘Ok …..,’ Hock felt like he was being watched upon like a bear in a zoo. ‘Thanks again,’ Hock trying to ease the looming tension. ‘How about your underwear? Aren’t it wet too? Would you like to …..’ Han’s eyes rolled down to base of Hock’s Y-front. There was not an inch of loose crease there, Hock stretched the limits of his underwear like stockings over a bowling ball.

Hock blushed like an over-ripened tomato, he felt his erection extended by another two inches, tightening his groin load further. He could not utter a word in reply, too greatly aroused by Han’s request for his burdened underwear. ‘It’s ok, it didn’t get that wet,’ Hock looked down at his own crotch, blushing a shade redder.

‘Ok then,’ Han disappointedly intoned, giving a last glance to Hock’s fully-weighted briefs. He then walked out of the room, blissfully massaging his palm upon Hock’s pants. Han stood over the clothes dryer, now caressing Hock’s cotton pants over his chest. Hock’s pants let out a subdued scent that was unmistakably manly – like that in a football locker room: part soap, part deodorant, masking over sweat.

Han toyed with the zipper sewn on the pants. He pulled it back and forth several times, with the grace of a violinist. Looking down at Hock’s pants, he found numerous creases around the zip front. It must have taken a magnificent crotch to create such deep textile ruffles. Han took a deep sniff of the zip region, he was intoxicated. Why couldn’t someone distill the scent into a bottled perfume, he thought. It will be the best-selling au de toilette.

“Are you ok ….?’ Hock entered into the washing area and startled Han. Han pulled his face from the heap of pants, shocked by Hock’s sudden appearance. He felt like a shoplifter caught in the act. Hock was shocked by Han’s somewhat pervert act of crotch sniffing. His erection bloated by another inch, Han’s secret enjoyment made him feel dominant.

Han was speechless. He nearly cried out, feeling greatly ashamed of his own deviant behaviour. Yet he was too scared to apologise. Hock could not hold his erection anymore, it was piercing through his Y-front like a police baton. He was as embarrassed as a farter caught red handed in the lift.

[Guest Guest_Heartlander]

‘Sorry, I was checking if it stills smells of tea …..’ Han lamely explained, his face somewhat contorted by guilt. ‘It’s ok, as long as they are somewhat dry,’ Hock said while breathing in hard trying to tuck in his erection.

‘You’ve got a huge one,’ Han said with an ambiguous smile. ‘But don’t worry about it,’ he gestured at Hock’s inflated briefs. Hock’s face was a mixture of embarrassment and perplexity, he remained silent.

‘Words are just like semen. They are either meant to spat out or swallowed. Therefore ejaculations are as regular or common an act as speaking. So ….. don’t worry about having an erection,’ Han’s blasé attitude towards Hock’s mammoth tent in his pants put the latter at ease.

‘Haha …..’ Hock faked laughter in response. Actually he didn’t know what to say. He watched Han put his pants into the dryer, punched some buttons on its control panel. ‘You sure you don’t want to throw in your underwear?’ Han looked over and queried without a trace of sleaze. ‘Erm ….. ok then,’ Hock slid his fingers into the sides of his briefs, arched forth slightly to unhooked them from his thighs. Changing in and out of briefs is such a routine act everyday, yet now he does it with much self consciousness.

Han’s lips split wide apart as he watched Hock peeled off his crotch wrapper. It was a breathtaking exposition. Hock’s tool was a great beauty: some eight inches of blood-clot beef, arching magnificently like a proud coral branch. Han never experienced such an adrenalin rush, it was as if he was receiving a blood transfusion powered by a turbocharged motor.

It was a certainly a moment die for. Han had never set sight on such groin splendour. It was a spectacular spectacle that could induce tectonic plates to shift, and the sky to crack open. Hock has a perfect-shaped penis. It is smooth and spotless, has a light banana bow, and curls up deadcentre. A natural beauty, it is uncut and has foreskin that forms ruffles just beneath a mushroom knob that is as red as the emergency button of a bullet train.

Trailing behind the fully-flexed penis is a balls pouch shaped like a large sun-decomposed orange. It was rigidly hanging beneath Hock’s prostate, clad in a furry coat of pubic follicles. Black and bushy, it looks as menacing as a hornet’s nest. Han is a balls lover. He is the type who cares more for the marbles than the pole. And the bigger the better. He is experienced at sizing up a man’s sack of balls, and Hock looks like he got golf balls for testicles.

‘Wow, you are ….. BIG,’ Han stressed on the vowel. It was not simply a cry in awe, but a plea to stroke. Hock’s ego was stroked, his contracted his pelvic muscles.

[Guest Guest]

Dear Heartlander

Please work overtime to finish the story ... don't keep us waiting too looooong. When writing to the sex part, please be as detail as possible. Thanks.

[Guest Guest_Heartlander]

‘Yes I know, my brothers are all just as well endowed. It’s in the genes I supposed,’ Hock reasoned as he straightened his foreskin. ‘But as I age, I realise it’s not the size that matters,’ Hock philosophised.

‘Then what is?’ Han asked standing next to the whirring drier. Hock inhaled deeply, ‘I am divorced, so a big cock does not guarantee a blissful marriage.’

‘I am sorry to hear that ….. I know how you feel …… I also broke up with my boyfriend ten years ago,’ Han spoke rather calmly although he felt a searing pain in his heart.

‘I am sorry too to hear about you,’ Hock was apparently sympathetic, although he looked more like a pervert with his erection peering out of his shirt tails. ‘That makes us two,’ he gave a lopsided smile.

Han inched towards Hock and repeated, ‘That makes us two.’ Hock sustained his crooked smile, as if in agreement. Sex is magical, it can neutralise negative feelings, or at least distract one from life’s agonies. Inside Han, he could feel his libidinous thoughts battling with those unpleasant breakup memories.

Hock saw Han nearing, but he did not shy away. He knew what Han was coming for. Suddenly he recalled what Han mentioned earlier, ‘Words are just like semen.’ It reverberated in his head, like bouncing echoes in an empty warehouse. Saying the wrong words is more damaging than spilling semen for a wrong cause. So what the heck? He watched Han encroaching his shadow, causing him to contract his pelvic muscles again. His nipples came to life, and he could feel his pubic hairs standing on ends.

Han felt his desirous mind had taken over him. His body was almost going to kiss Hock’s yearning penis head, red as Rudolph’s nose. Two lonely men, connected by a similar past, struck by lust, and about to make their first touch. Hock felt his stiff cock squirm a little as Han was a hair width away.

‘Hold me?’ Han pleaded, as he watched Hock cuddle him into his pectoral valleys. Han nearly teared as he had not felt bodily warmth in years. Han adjusted his stance so that Hock’s protruding dick gets sandwiched between his inner thighs, and their stomachs get to kiss. Hock’s dick was so firm and thick, Han felt like he was sitting on a horse’s saddle.

Hock emits an aphrodisiac body odour. Some acidic smell from perspiration muddled with the raw whiff of naked flesh. It reeked masculinity.

[metalmickey]

Great vivid, stimulating descriptions. Just be more careful with your spelling and grammar!

[Guest Guest_Heartlander]

Flesh against flesh, Han felt his body heat diffusing into Hock’s, their body temperatures eventually regulating into one. He could feel Hock’s body hairs pricking his skin, and the latter’s heart ticking away like a rattle toy.

Hugging is the most underrated form of intimacy. Locking limbs, cuddling skin to skin makes one immediately feel wanted, loved and even protected. It is magical, hynotising and even healing.

They have hugged for a long time. Han felt safe, Hock pacified. It was as if they were segregated from the rest of the world by a wall of black concentric curtains, clocks had died, and past and future became immaterial. Like they finally found their real cause in life, all mysteries solved and questions answered.

Have you ever been jolted out of sleep in the morning, and just when you were about to routinely yank up your spine, came to senses that it was a weekend day that allowed you to go back to sleep? That split second of joy that is immensely contenting. Han is perhaps feeling a million times of that indescribable gratification!

Hock also underwent an out-of-body experience. Strangely he could not feel his stubborn backache anymore. All he could feel is a blanket of warmth. He closed his eyes to enjoy the moment, and suddenly saw an apparition of his elder son. The grown up kid was speaking very fast and confidently, his speech seemingly unhampered. Hock could not hear his own heartbeat anymore, his body became weightless.

‘What are you thinking about?’ Han whispered lovingly into Hock’s ears. ‘Nothing really, just wondering about this feeling I am getting,’ Hock’s voice cracked like he just rose in the morning. ‘What feeling?’ Han pursued. ‘Hm …… some kind of ….. I don’t know really,’ Hock could not make sense of the experience he was going through.

‘Tell me,’ Han pleaded seductively as he reached down to grab Hock’s hardened eel. Hock was caught by surprise, it was as if a cat strolling by had its tail stroking the underside of his rock-hard tool. He jerked a little while Han was still figuring how to get a hold on the stony monster.

Han recalled how he was once taught how to grab a slimy carp from the pond so that it wouldn’t flip out of grasp. There is always a technique to tame an animal. Han also remembered watching an episode of The Animal Planet where the animal trainer put a giant python to submission by necking its thick head in a swift swipe.

Han was about to hold down Hock’s fiercely-red eel …..

[Guest Guest]

and then what happen?

[Guest cw]

the door bell rings .... hahahahha

[exec_fetish]

nice read.. i just can't wait for the next part!

cheers

[Guest Guest]

Then the advertisement break....hahahah......

[Guest Guest_Heartlander]

Han palmed Hock’s manhood like he was holding down a chunky sewerage pipe. He felt triumphant holding Hock’s lifeline in his hand. Hock, on the other hand, was pleased to see the elation on Han’s face.

‘You know what you are doing I hope?’ Han uttered while he licked Hock’s dangling ear flap.

‘We are not doing anything yet, or are we?’ Hock sounded playful yet serious.

‘What do you consider doing something?’ Han sounded muffled in between tonguing Hock’s ear that tasted like a piece of uncooked cartilage.

Hock twisted his neck slightly towards Han, ‘I have been married, divorced, and even dated again, and fell out. I have probably ejaculated more the number of newspapers I have read in my life,’ he coughed abruptly, as if choked by his own humour. ‘You tell me, should these mean anything to me?’ Hock accompanied his rhetorical question with a self-mocking smile on his face.

Hock’s sudden revelation was almost incongruous with their ongoing state of arousal. Han felt his passionate spirits dampened. ‘I don’t know. You should know better yourself. Did you love your ex-wife? Did you enjoy sex with her?’ Han looked straight into Hock’s eyes, as if registering his seriousness. It was for the first time they sustained a direct gaze.

It doesn’t mean much when you hold a guy by his balls. But it does mean a thing when you hold his eyeballs with your own for some time. There was so much to be read in the overstayed gaze. Like a thick hard cover where so much is flowing from its pages. Han couldn’t help but blink incessantly, Hock’s intense eyes were too much for him to digest.

There was a whirlpool of regret and remorse spiraling into the tunnel of Hock’s dark jelly pupils. But unmistakably, the intense stare also conveyed affection and hesitation, Han was melting down from his neck.

What is going on? Some kind of genuine attraction between two men? Or is it empathy for another man of the same fate? Han could see Hock’s chest oozing sweat and his ambiguous gaze turning into an animal glare. Hock was like a leopard turning on his predatory instincts, poised to pounce in a split second.

Before Han could grasp the situation, Hock collapsed his stance in a passionate forward lunge. Han was walled with his limbs pinned under Hock’s flexed muscles. He felt vulnerably enjoyable, like a shoplifter on a swiping high.

Hock weighed a ton as he forced a bite on Han’s cheeks. He was like a raping robot, strong yet mechanical in his touch. ‘What are you doing?’ Han muttered to fake victimization. Sex is about role playing. There is equal fun in submission and dominance, and even oscillating between the two. But Hock didn’t seem like he is putting on an act, he is as real as a sex-famished inmate freshly released from the cell.

[Guest Guest_Heartlander]

Han turned from seducer to sexual prey as Hock feasted on him like a bear to fresh meat. He could feel Hock chin bristles mowing down his neck, and the latter’s warm tannic breath. It was more titillating than in an orgy of hunks.

It is rather strange that their earlier sober conversation has been abruptly replaced by primeval instincts. Han is like a parched patch being rained upon, his forgotten libido has finally spring back to life. He groped Hock’s sweaty body like he was hastily oiling him with sun protection cream, not an inch of skin was spared of his hungry fingers.

Hock is not just a slab of pure beef. He smells like a used jersey, pants like a fighting bull, and is rough like a blacksmith. Han was enjoying Hock’s manliness, which makes him feel both protected and desired. Hock’s pawing is pleasing yet bruising, and the wetness from his cock-dew and body sweat feels sensuous as it is filthy.

The next time Hock was conscious of his own doing, he was already rubbing his lower body against that of Han. Between their abdomens sandwiched two penises. Hock was swelling in pride watching Han’s tool appeared diminutive next to his. He looked down at the two cock heads, Han’s redder while he spotted hues of blue black.

Hock rubbed their dicks violently like he was using his groin to clean a window pane. He watched Han’s face twisted in torture and pleasure, it further strengthened his penile hardness.

‘Arh ….’ Han’s virgin cries sounded like the young of a wolf clamouring to be fed. ‘Arh …. arh …. arh ….’ Han intensified his breathing like he was on a sick bed.

Stirred by the aural stimulants, Hock also started panting heavily. He has high blood pressure and has been medicating since he was in his 30s. But he never remembered inhaling so deeply and rapidly. It felt a premonition of a vessel rupture, except for there was more pleasure than pain.

‘Arrrrrrh ……’ Han shocked himself with the ferocious howl …..

[Guest guest 1]

hearlander, waiting for you to continue....

[Guest Guest_Heartlander]

The two of them fondled like two frolicking pandas. Sometimes like a father bear and his son, sometimes a pair of mating beasts.

At some angle, it looked as if Hock was a man-eating barbarian chewing upon Han. And sometimes, Han gained dominance and hung onto Hock’s earlobe like an overgrown bat.

Han could not remember how and when he stripped to his naked flesh. It was the kind of short-term amnesia where one forgets what day is today. As a matter of fact, Han could not remember anything at the peak of passion, not even how his boyfriend had spurned him.

Hock had also forgotten a thing or two. For one, he had overlooked the fact that he was indulging in homosexual sex. It was his first time hugging and kissing a man, but there was not much of a barrier to overcome. It was like he changed from a manual to an automatic steering automobile in 1998. There wasn’t much to get use to, as was so easy to drive an auto car.

With a woman, there are always complications when it comes to sex. If they are not menstruating, they are expecting something to follow from the f—k. Sex with a woman is often loaded with an agenda, not just for sheer pleasure.

If you look into the keyhole from inside the house, you’d see through the door. But if you look into the keyhole from outside the house, you’d be greeted by a murky translucent whirlpool.

One can choose to see light or be blinded. It’s a matter where one stands, and what view he chooses to take. Han has chosen to lose sight of his troubles. Hock has discovered a new vista in his life. Keyhole feelings are those small thoughts and consciousness that fills the air between two persons. Nothing is too small to be ignored. Just like a keyhole, it may be smaller than a human eye, but it serves a large purpose ……..

THE END

[chub77]

wow... what an profound ending.. i guess not everyone is expecting it... hehehe.. ..

anyway.. good job Guest_Heartlander :thumb:

[Guest Engineer]

Well written! And a good ending.

The last para is something for all of us to think about - a good philosophy looking at how we look at things around us.

Keep writing, Heartlander.

[exec_fetish]

i think the ending is a bit abrupt and profound. a penny for our thoughts though i would have hope to seen the ending as something more atuned towards the erotic type