A Broken Kind of Life by Jamie Mayfield Read Free Book Online Page B

hadn’t been brave enough to send one of those out. A still shot, he could argue he’d gotten from the Internet and shared. A video taken on his phone was another story.
    SPENCER: You like my dick?
    MARK: Yeah, it’s a work of art. Are you hard?
    SPENCER: I’m typing one-handed if that’s what you’re asking.
    MARK: Me too
    Spencer pulled his jeans and briefs down to his calves. The cool leather office chair chilled the backs of his thighs as he sat stroking himself for the faceless guy on the other side of the chat window. He wondered what Mark thought about as he jerked himself off, probably someone who could hear him moan.
    With that thought, his hard-on started to falter. He sighed, stood up, and moved over to the bed where he could get comfortable. Spencer was rapidly getting out of the mood to play, but jerked his jeans all the way off anyway. Pulling his shirt over his head, he grabbed one of the pillows and propped it against the headboard. The screen moved up as another message came through. He ignored it for the moment and settled the laptop onto the bed next to him. God, he just wanted to jack off and go to sleep. Was that really too much to ask? When he glanced at the screen, he saw the message Mark had sent, and he got hard all over again. The image of an older guy, naked and jerking off filled his laptop screen. The guy was naked from the waist down, his nondescript blue T-shirt hiked above his nipples, which were pebbled out on his chest.
    It was beautiful.
    He took a picture of himself from an angle somewhere between his knees up his chest, being careful not to include his face. After attaching it to an e-mail on his phone, he sent Mark a message to check his e-mail. With the slow response time, he figured Mark was only doing the barest essentials of typing anyway because his hands were otherwise occupied.
    After a while, Spencer just wanted it over. Speeding the motion of his hand, he focused on the spots where he was most sensitive. Years of practice told him exactly how to get himself off with minimum fuss. It would be empty and hollow, just as it always was, but at least he’d be able to sleep. Another night, a sex chat with Mark would have been hot, but right then, the lack of connection grated on his nerves, and he snapped the laptop lid closed. Let the guy think he’d lost his Internet connection. He’d be back. They were all desperate, lonely guys looking to get off. They’d all be back, just as he would.
    His orgasm, empty and unfulfilling, finally landed on his stomach in warm, sticky blotches. The pressure behind his eyes and the burning in his throat took him by surprise. An emotional release came right along with the physical, and he turned his head into the pillow trying to stop the lonely ache in his chest.

Four

     
    A S HE expected, Aaron’s mother offered to go with him into the bookstore just to keep him company. Of course, he knew she was afraid for him. With the groups of people on campus, would this be the day he had a panic attack in the bookstore or became unresponsive in the bathroom? The college had been briefed about his various neuroses by his mother and the current stop in his revolving door of shrinks, but at the end of the day, it was his mother who had to pick up the pieces if he fell apart. It took a long time to convince her to wait in the car outside the quad. If he was going to sit in a room full of other people for class, he had to start doing things for himself.
    As luck would have it, the bookstore was relatively quiet when he arrived. Most of the students probably already had their books.
    “May I help you?” the young woman from behind the desk asked as Aaron approached. The smile faded quickly from her pointed little face as Aaron looked up, his scars illuminated harshly in the fluorescent lighting. He could tell she was trying not to stare as she twirled her blonde hair around one finger, obviously nervous and uncomfortable. Aaron handed her his receipt