The Six Year Itch

an excerpt



"He has a great ass-- you have to give him that." Spencer Hastings peered over the edge of the roof terrace and looked down at their newest tenant, who was lying naked on his chest in the small, grassy yard of the four-story apartment building.

A light haze of smoke from someone's barbecue drifted lazily across the cloudless blue sky, and Gloria Estefan sang from the speakers Armando had wired so that he and Spencer could lie up there and watch sunsets and shooting stars while being lulled by music. It was a slow, hot, Sunday afternoon in August, and all of South Beach seemed to be taking it easy, except for his partner, Armando Delgado.

"I'm not arguing about his body," Armando said. "He has a great one. I just don't think he should be showing it off in our back yard. Suppose the neighbors see, and somebody complains?"

"Why don't we go down and join him? Then complaints can be submitted directly to the landlords."

Armando shook his head and walked back to his lounge chair. "Don't get started." He plumped the pillow, adjusted the towel, repositioned his drink on the small glass table between the two chairs.

"Why not? Blue's a new tenant, we should make him feel welcome. I could offer to rub suntan lotion on his back."

Spencer and Armando had owned the building for a little over a year. One of their first priorities had been landscaping the rooftop with a collection of planters filled with colorful ground cover and a series of small potted palms, so that guests had the impression they were actually in a garden surrounded by clear blue sky, rather than on a roof in a crowded area of the city.

The rest of the building had taken more time. They had just finished renovating the apartments on the first floor. Blue, a 23-year-old waiter and bodybuilder and recent transplant from New York, was the last tenant to move in.

"If I catch you fooling around with that twink, I'll...."

Spencer turned away from the building's parapet and faced his partner with a wicked gleam in his eye. "You'll what? Tie me up? Handcuff me? Come on, you know you want to."

"Coño! Is that really what you want? You want me to treat you like a trick? After we've been together for six years?"

Spencer crossed his arms. He stared out across the intervening rooftops toward Biscayne Bay, its flat surface broken by crisscrossing trails of power boats. In the distance, the glass and steel towers of downtown Miami glittered like the Emerald City in the Oz books. "I don't know, I just want something different."

Armando nodded past the railing toward the boy sprawled out in the back yard. They had planted a perimeter hedge of red, yellow and white hibiscus, which had begun to grow tall enough to camouflage the chain link fence between their yard and the yeshiva dormitory behind them. "You want him?"

Spencer walked over to Armando and embraced him. "No. I want you. It's just that, sometimes, you need to relax a little. Go with the flow. If Blue wants to strip down and sunbathe in the back yard, don't let it get your shorts in a twist."

Armando hugged Spencer back. They were a contrast in light and shadow like that, Armando's dark curls and the smooth olive complexion of his naked back against Spencer's short blond crew cut, the downy fuzz on his arms and chest the color of the morning sun over Miami Beach. "I tell you what, Papi," Armando said. "Let's ask the other guys. If nobody else minds, he can do what he pleases."

Spencer nodded. It seemed like all he and Armando did these days was argue; those small differences that had once endeared them to each other had blossomed into big problems during their second year together, then they had seemed to wash away on a tide of happiness and love.

Lately though, issues and disputes had begun to crop up again. Spencer worried that maybe he wasn't cut out for a long-term relationship, that six years was his limit. Suppose Armando wasn't his Mr. Right after all? He had begun to look at men in a speculative way again, one that he thought he lost when he and Armando settled on each other. It was disconcerting but a little exciting at the same time. The world was full of possibility once more.

He leaned back from the embrace, his arms still around his lover. "All right. But speaking of getting your shorts in a twist...." He reached behind Armando and jerked the waistband of his boxers up. Armando howled and pushed Spencer down onto a chaise lounge where they wrestled, kissing each other with a passion they had not seen in quite a while. Then Armando pulled Spencer's shorts down roughly, and Spencer's hard dick popped out.

"Oh," he groaned as Armando leaned down to suck him.

The rooftop was private, to a degree. No one could see them up there from the street or from any of the neighboring buildings. But there was something sexy and forbidden about making love out there in the open with Blue in the back yard and people walking along the sidewalk in front of the house. Spencer had to be careful not to moan too loudly when Armando reached up to tweak a nipple as he sucked.

It wasn't the first time they'd had sex outdoors, but the last time had been years before. Spencer arched his back and pumped his dick into Armando's mouth, feeling his stomach churn and the semen begin to rise from his balls. He grabbed Armando's head and swallowed a strangled cry as he spurted into his lover's mouth.

Armando pulled off him, licked his lips and grinned. "It was good for you, mi amor?"

"Muy bueno." He reached for Armando, who backed away.

"I'm going downstairs for a nap." Armando leaned down and kissed Spencer, whose limp dick still hung out of his shorts, then stood up and picked up his drink. He turned and walked toward the staircase door.

Spencer watched him go, feeling not quite as satisfied as he thought he should.