His Loving Beauty

I'd just gotten back from the bookstore with some new intellectual material I was excited to explore. As I was finding the key to unlock my door, a deep voice from behind me asked, "Just moved in?"

I turned around to respond but I was caught off guard by the impressive physique of the man before me, which brought a smile to my face. I inhaled sharply through my nose in surprise and appreciation. "Yeah," I answered quietly. "Um, from Connecticut."

I had recently moved to North Carolina for the first real job of my career. The only real change the move had made in my life so far was geographic, since just like back home and at college I had few friends—none here as of yet—and mostly stayed in and entertained myself.

I quickly looked this stranger over, taking him all in. Physically, he was my dream man. It was obvious from his very well muscled body he worked out often; he wasn't so big that it was freaky, but he was seriously buffed and ripped. His developed chest stretched the white cotton of the T-shirt he was wearing, as did his thick hard biceps. On his right arm, a prominent vein traced down from his shoulder, running down the middle of his bicep, to the inside of his elbow. His shoulders were broad and strong, and looked oh-so cozy. I could see two dark tattoos peeking out from under the sleeves of his shirt. Standing at least 6'5" tall, he seemed like a giant to me.

His face was just as strong and masculine as the rest of him. His eyes were deep and completely uncolored, just shining black. He had a neatly trimmed but full goatee and his jaw was very square. This combined nicely to give him a bit of a tough guy look which was mitigated by his current sly, confident smile, showing off his pearly white teeth. The man's head was shaved which worked perfectly for him. To top it all off, his skin was dark black, just a shade or two lighter than coal. While not exclusively attracted to them, I definitely have a special thing for black men.

I was very conscious of how important it was to not stare too long. After quickly absorbing the body of male perfection in front of me once more, I focused on his face again as he stepped closer and extended his right hand to me and said, "Cool. I'm Damon."

I'd always been rather awkward meeting new people, which is probably why I was still a lonely virgin at 23. The fact that I was already having sexual fantasies about this man was not helping my social ineptitude. I gave a quiet smile in an attempt to show friendliness, and I did my best to give him a manly handshake, struck by how small my hand looked in his. At first I didn't know what to say so I just stared nervously at our hands, which was awkward for us both. When I figured out what a normal person would do in this situation, I looked up at his eyes and replied, "Oh, uh, Eddy."

He smiled wider, "Good to meet you, Eddy." His grin was so disarming it made me smile back at him.

I let out a short, one-syllable giggle and said, "Thanks. You too."

Our hands disengaged from each other and I tried hard to maintain eye contact as he spoke, "So I guess you don't have any friends around here yet, huh?"

"Um, no, not really." It was really tough to not check out his body some more, but I managed for the most part. I was actually looking at the ground more than anything else. His stature was very intimidating even though he wasn't trying to be.

"If you wanna hang out some time that'd be cool. You like football?"

Not wanting to deny this dark incarnation of Adonis anything and in the hopes of actually spending time with him, I lied, "Uh, yeah!"

"Cool. I usually have some people over to watch the game. You wanna come this week?"

"Yeah, that'd be great!" I knew I was a bit over the top in showing my excitement, but I just couldn't help myself.

"Alright, I live right there," he pointed to the door diagonally across from mine. "See you then, Eddy," he said as he walked off.

I allowed myself to check out his butt and back as I mindlessly whispered, "Bye."

Once Damon disappeared into his apartment, I let myself into mine, got in bed and masturbated thinking about the sexy colossus I'd just met, and all the wonderful things I wished he would do to me. After I let myself glow from my climax, I of course had to go online to figure out when "the game" was.

After a couple weeks I was already spending time at Damon's often, along with his friends. Sometimes it was just to hang out, but it was usually to watch football. There were at least 5 to 10 other guys there every week for the game. But there were fewer (sometimes just the two of us!) if we were only hanging out.

Damon's living room was simple but comfortable. The back of the couch was up against the far wall. The 42" flat panel HDTV sat in a big entertainment center. In front of that was a coffee table, and in front of that was the two-seat sofa which was a few feet farther away from the TV than the couch.

Since he was so tall Damon liked to stretch out. He might sit up during a game if he was excited, but he usually took up the whole couch even though a few extra people would have to be less comfortable during the game. Since I was usually the first person there, I always got to sit on the sofa next to Damon's couch. I was late once but when I arrived, Damon made the guy in my spot stand so I could sit down because, "it's his spot," he said. I told them it's okay and that I didn't mind standing, but Damon insisted. It was so sweet I couldn't help but smile.

Damon was definitely the top dog of the group, even though at 27 he wasn't the oldest. They were all friendly with each other, but on occasion, I would notice each of them looking specifically for Damon's approval. They'd tell their stories to Damon. Their jokes were intended to make Damon laugh above all. They wanted to impress him more than anyone else in the group. And when Damon spoke, everyone's mouths closed and they all listened. I'm sure he noticed this, but he never made a big deal of it.

I was the only white guy of the group though and I'm really small too, so I felt out of place at first. I'm only 5'6" and since I'm not very athletic, I'd always had a skinny body. I have very short brown hair that lies forward, flat on my head. I've been told by a few girls that I have amazing brown eyes, so I'm proud I have at least that one appealing feature.

In contrast, most of Damon's friends were black, and there were 2 Latinos, but none of them were quite like Damon. Some were well built, and I eventually figured that they must have known Damon from the gym where he worked as a personal trainer. Still, none of them were even near as devastatingly sexy as Damon. The one who came in second place for looks must have been Tay.

Tay's only true positive attribute was his good looks. He wasn't built big like Damon, but he was more than toned. His skin was light brown and he had black shoulder-length braids surrounding a very "pretty boy" face and he knew it. Other than being easy on the eyes, he was nothing special. He'd gotten by on his looks alone way too much in his life. He had very little character, wasn't very bright, and was just generally uninteresting. He was also flat out arrogant, unlike Damon who had very justifiable confidence in himself.

Hanging out with Damon was great, but there were downsides to the relationship, too. His friends frequently made it clear how they felt about gay people, or as they called us, "fags". Damon didn't join in on that as much as the others, but there were several instances where even he said some hurtful things. One of them once told a cruel joke about gays and after hearing it, Damon laughed and outright said that he hated fags. It hurt me a lot, probably much more than it should have, and I had to quickly make an excuse to leave because I knew I wouldn't be able to stop myself from tearing up. Looking back, it was probably obvious I was upset and I'd guess it made some of them suspicious of my sexuality if they weren't already. I wasn't sure how much thought went into Damon's declaration, but it didn't matter.

Even though he'd moved into the city, he still held onto this ugly bigotry from his upbringing in a southern Baptist family and town. He wasn't religious at all, but this was something he picked up not only at church, but at school, home, from friends, adults, everyone. He was taught from a very young age that you're supposed to hate fags. He wasn't stupid though, and I didn't understand why he hadn't overcome this bigotry already. It was hard to reconcile his intelligence with that attitude. I assumed he'd just never been challenged, by himself or anyone else, to contemplate those views.

Damon was very clever and often had me in fits of laughter from his witty commentary. He was really very intelligent and truly thought for himself. He had big ideas for both his own life and the world around him. He wasn't afraid to be ambitious, and I respected that. It was more for these reasons than his looks that I quickly developed a crush on Damon as well as my first meaningful friendship with him despite his ignorant attitude toward gay people. But I'd gotten to know him pretty well, and it was clear to me he was a good guy deep down. He had a big heart, full of empathy toward others.

I wasn't ashamed of my sexuality, but I was still very much in the closet. I'd never told anyone, not even my family because they were just too conservative and distant. I really did want to come out though. I even ordered a book that I thought might be able to help me.

Some of the details hit really close to home. The author wrote about homophobic "friends," and gave advice on whether or not to come out to them, depending on the situation. He also talked about suicidal thoughts, something I still struggled with sometimes. I related to it so much that it started to stir up too many bad emotions. It was too much for me so I had to just bookmark the page and put it down.

The fact that I was the only white guy would have made me a bit of an outsider to the rest of the group if Damon hadn't taken to standing up for me. The others picked on me sometimes, playfully, and I'd feel awkward and embarrassed, even though they all did it to each other too. Sometimes they'd imply that I was gay or something, and that made me really nervous. Damon would always step up to my defense though, putting my harasser on the spot. But one day, it went much farther than that.

I'd known him for a little more than 5 months when I was hanging out at Damon's with him and Tay. We were watching ESPN, some analysis show. I was on the sofa, and Tay was to my left. Damon was in his usual spot stretching out, his legs up on the couch. The white T-shirt and gym shorts he was wearing fit loosely on his body. I was stealing quick casual glances of his body like I'd done in the past sometimes. Usually I was very careful when checking him out, and I didn't do it too often, but when his arms bent and tucked under his head on the arm of the couch, I took a bit more liberty than usual. I didn't turn my head, shifting only my eyes over to Damon's body. I figured Tay was too wrapped up in the show to notice me anyway.

I admit it, I have a bit of a thing for armpits, and seeing Damon's hairy underarm just below his huge bicep had me entranced. I was really enjoying the view, and I figured I could just soak it up for a few more peaceful seconds before it became obvious.

Suddenly, I was torn all too soon and all too roughly from the paradise my eyes were vacationing in. Tay, voice full of disgust, boomed out loudly and directly into my ear, "You a faggot or something?!"

His accusation shocked me, my whole face and ears now colored dark red I'm sure. I turned a little bit to look at him, and he pulled away from me a bit to the other side of the sofa, glaring at me with anger and revulsion. I was really scared, terrified. I visibly shook, trying not to cry. My heart raced, I began sweating, and my breathing hitched. I was prepared to swear in his Lord's name to my heterosexuality. I tried to think of something that would easily explain my gazing, wanting to refute the charge before Damon figured out what I was.

Before I could get a word out, I heard a shout from my right, "What the fuck, dude?"

I shifted my eyes to the coffee table in front of me. Just like that, I'd already lost the will to proclaim my innocence. I just wanted to get out of there, for my safety. As I tried to get an explanation out of my slightly open mouth, I heard Damon sit up on the couch. I froze completely, paralyzed by fear.

"What? He's a faggot! I saw him checking you out while you weren't looking. He couldn't take his eyes off you, man."

Damon sounded incredulous and annoyed, "Shut the fuck up, Tay."

Tay stood up and pointed at my face, accusing me again, "No, man! It's true! The fag was fuckin' pervin' on you!"

Damon stood up too and took a step forward to within a foot of Tay, now standing directly in front of me. I again avoided looking at either of them by forcing my gaze down to my lap where my hands held each other. "Don't call him that!" Damon yelled. His shouts were already very aggressive, and he was using that, as well as his impressive height, to intimidate Tay. And it was working. Tay was stepping back away from Damon repeatedly and Damon closed the short distance each time.

"Listen, dude! You got a fag in your—"

Damon interjected very loudly, "I told you to quit callin' him that!" and stuck the forefinger of his right hand squarely in front of Tay's eyes, as he breathed heavily and loomed over the slightly younger guy.

"But, dude!" Tay implored. "I'm your friend and he's a fucking queer!"

"What'd I say!" Damon's right hand sharply reminded Tay with a quick slap to the whole left side of his face. Damon's hand then swiftly resumed its stance stiffly in front of Tay's eyes, index finger extended.

Tay grunted, totally surprised, "Eurgh! Shit!" as his left hand went up to his face to soothe the stinging pain, and his right arm went up to his chest defensively, as he cowered a little. He pulled back again but not very far. His instinct was telling him he was way out of his league in this fight, but his ego wouldn't let him submit completely.

"Damon... Dude..." Tay tried yet again. He put his arms out in front of him and opened his palms, trying to convince the much stronger man. "I'm telling you, man. He was looking right at your pits! You should be beatin' the shit outta him, not me! He's the faggot!"

"Ahh!" Tay's scream was so loud it scared me a little bit. He was sent sprawling to the ground with such force that he slid a few inches on the hard wood floor slamming his head into the wall. He wrapped both his arms around his head, trying to protect himself. Between his arms he looked up at Damon fearfully, breathing hard through his clenched teeth. His face screwed up in what was obviously extreme pain, and I think I saw tears too.

Damon advanced toward Tay quickly, and based on his body language and what I could see of his face, he looked intensely angry, like he was controlled by rage. I was worried about what he might do so I stood and pleaded "Damon, don't hurt him! Please!" I'd never seen him so mad or the slightest bit violent. I didn't know how far he might go.

Damon paused shortly, took a quick deep breath, and then as he leaned down to grab Tay by the arm, he muttered, "Fuckin' piece of shit."

As he was dragged to his feet and toward the door, Tay struggled a little bit, trying to pull his arm out of the strong grip, but he was not released until he was shoved onto the outdoor stairway landing, stumbling to the ground again.

"Bitch..." Damon sneered before closing and locking the door.

I didn't know if my plea had an effect on Damon, but I was glad he didn't do anything that would get him in trouble. I sat down and kept watching him.

He turned around, shaking his head. His chest was still heaving, pushing out his very hard and prominent pectoral muscles and then letting them retract. He was coming off the adrenaline racing through his huge body. Some of his veins bulged more obviously than normal, most noticeably in his biceps which were now stretching out the sleeves of his shirt. I realized he was looking right at me so I immediately turned away from him.

"Fuck!" I chided myself. I shifted on the sofa, facing forward again. Clueless as to what I should do, my eyes wandered around the room, fixating on random objects, anything that wasn't in Damon's direction. "Tay was right. I am a faggot! This man stands up for me and all I can do is start checking him out again. Fuck I'm stupid!" Out of nervousness, the middle and index finger of my left hand were clenched by my right hand, thumbs lightly stroking each other and my other fingers.

When Damon sat down next to me I had to look down at my hands again, trying to soothe myself. I was still very afraid. His proximity to me just made it worse. I know I was trembling a lot, almost violently.

He tenderly placed his right hand on my left shoulder. He spoke in a deep gentle voice, "Sorry 'bout all that."

I stayed quiet.

"You okay?" he asked. "You're shakin' like crazy." His hand started gently massaging my shoulder.

"I don't know why he was saying those things," I stammered.

"It's okay dude. Don't worry about it."

I turned to look at him for a moment and sounding desperate, I lied as convincingly as I could, "But I'm not gay, I swear."

He laughed, "I know, Eddy." He smiled for a second and then his face became somewhat serious as if he was suddenly considering the possibility, but he didn't say anything about it.

"I should probably go." I started to get up but his strong hand held me down.

"Aw, come on man. Don't be like that. Just chill out. Quit shaking like that."

"Um, okay I guess." I didn't have much of a choice so I just settled back down on the sofa.

The rest of the day went by smoothly. Damon sat next to me and we kept watching TV. He talked to me a little bit about what happened and told me not to worry about it, that it was no big deal. I eventually calmed down, my body stopped shaking, and I tried to enjoy myself.

A few days later, Damon asked me to go see a newly released documentary with him, and I agreed. We decided we'd leave at 7:00 PM, and I heard a knock on my door around 6:40. It was Damon arriving early of course.

I noticed he was looking especially sexy that night. He had a gold link chain hanging from his neck under his very tight white T-shirt. He was also wearing a leather belt around his waist in the loops of the black jeans that clung so nicely to his strong legs.

He was really early and I wasn't quite ready so I let him inside. As he came in, I realized it must have been months since he last set foot in my apartment. Damon's place was much better suited to entertain company so we always spent our time there.

I told him I just needed to do a few more things and then I'd be ready to go. With a smile he told me "Okay, I'll wait for you here."

I rushed off to my room to finish getting ready. I shaved the thin amount of facial hair I had which was near invisible, but I liked the smooth feeling. Then I brushed my teeth, and changed into some clothes suitable for going out, just a pair of khakis and a light blue T-shirt.

After no more than 10 minutes I headed back to the front door to get my shoes. As I came around the corner, I saw Damon sitting on the arm of my loveseat. He had his head down, right hand covering his eyes, and I could tell there was something in his left hand behind his leg, but I couldn't make it out.

As I was passing by him I stopped and asked, "Damon? What's wrong?" I heard the concern in my own voice and I touched his shoulder lightly, trying to console him.

I noticed that it was one of my bookmarks he was holding, and then I looked to my little end table where the coming out book I'd bought was sitting. I knew I put it back in my bookcase so it was obvious what had happened. I realized he now knew my secret, and all those feelings I had when Tay found me out rushed back.