Back To Your Nap Buddy

The conversation ended. We drank another scotch and headed back to the hotel. It was past two. We were both drunk, and we both needed to get some sleep.

When we got back to our suite, Wardo went directly to his room without saying goodnight. I was surprised and disappointed until he returned in his boxers with a bottle of vodka.

Wardo’s body looked as it had ten years before. He had a small mat of hair in the middle of chest, small nipples, and a delicious path from his navel into his boxers. He was still lean and muscled. He had not let himself go.

“Let’s have a final ‘final final’,” Wardo said, dropping ice into two tumblers and adding vodka.

“Let me change first,” I said as I headed to my room. I stepped out of my jeans, pulled my sweater over my head, and pulled a pair of gym shorts on. I had transformed my body in the last ten years. As many gay men do, I had spent a lot of time lifting weights and otherwise “honing the temple.”

When I returned to the common area, Wardo was seated on the coach, with a tumbler in one hand and the other resting on his crotch. I picked my tumbler off the table and sat down next to him, pressing my leg to his as I used to do in the backseat of his parents’ Buick. He did not pull his leg away. Instead, he looked at me and smiled. I smiled back. It seemed like the most natural thing when he leaned over and lowered his mouth to mine. I pushed my tongue into his mouth, and he pushed his into mine. There was no urgency in the kiss, just intimacy. It robbed me of my breath.

When he finally pulled away, he smiled at me. “I have wondered for ten years what it would feel like to kiss you.”