Forgetting

Every day I misplace a small part of myself, and for the life of me, I cannot think of where I’ve left it. It bothers me, confuses and frustrates me, for quite a while afterwards, but then my mind is distracted by other things. Such as the man on the other side of the living room. I can see clearly he is dusting, moving things to one side with one hand while the other hand goes to work with a scrap of cloth. But who is he? What is he doing in my home? Or is this my home? Some of the objects look vaguely familiar, though a number of them are strange to me. And there are one or two items that I simply would never have bought. But I don’t want to ask questions. I don’t want to sound stupid. I stare out of the window. It’s a cool autumn day. I know because the back yard is skirted by a small wood. What foliage remains is a sea of reds, oranges, and golds. Some of the branches are all but bare, contributing great holes in the autumnal palette. There is a chill in the air by the window, though elsewhere in the room it is comfortably warm. Outside it looks cold. The summer light has turned dull and the skies are more grey than blue. “Would you like a cup of coffee?” asks the man. He is handsome, though the years have stolen some of his charms. His blue eyes dazzle from beneath brows that are grey and peppered with darker hairs. There is something familiar about them, or perhaps it is simply that I find them attractive and pleasant to look at. I realise how alone I have been feeling and his voice, deep and warm, is friendly, comforting. I force my lips into a smile and I can feel the smile reach my eyes. I realise I am grateful for the interaction. “Yes, please,” I reply. “Yes, please.” The man’s smile widens and he gives a slight, almost imperceptible, nod before he leaves the room. I watch him disappear and rack my brain trying to think of who he is. It is obvious I know him since complete strangers don’t make cups of coffee for people they don’t know. Like some of the furniture, he seems familiar. I feel he somehow belongs in this environment. I try harder to remember, and when I can’t, I feel my eyes well with tears. I look down and notice my hands are balling and unballing, showing my utter frustration. And it’s not as if I can ask him. That would be rude. Very rude. I simply have to remember before he gets back. I return my attention to the outside world. It seems an eternity since I was part of it. It looks so inviting. I watch two birds chase each other through the branches of a tree. For a moment, they disappear then reappear further down along the row of trees in a game that reminds me of my childhood. I remember it vividly. I remember faces and names, mostly. So why can’t I remember what I had for dinner last night? Or even what I had for breakfast today, for that matter? It is a terrifying thing to feel like a stranger in your own body. The birds reappear and fly right past the window. They are not much more than a blur but I find myself smiling. I wait for them to return, to continue their game for my entertainment, but they don’t. I wonder if they are playing just out of sight. I get up from my comfortable armchair and walk towards the door. I pass through it and into a short corridor. There are doors leading off the hallway, though I cannot remember what is on the other side of them. I open one. A bathroom. And another. A laundry. On the other side of the washing machine there is another door, one with a large panel of glass that will take me into the great outdoors. The fresh air. The place that isn’t my armchair. I go to take a step, though something prevents me from moving forward. A hand grips my arm. “And where do you think you’re going?” asks the man with the blue eyes. His tone is friendly and there is a slight smile playing upon his lips. I don’t feel threatened, although I am a little confused. I point towards the door. Isn’t it obvious? I want to go outside. I want to find… What do I want to find? There was something out there I wanted to see. I scratch my head and try to look back over my shoulder. Perhaps if I can catch a glimpse of whatever it is, I can explain to this…person what it is I want to do. The man draws me back into the hallway in such a way that I cannot see through the glass. I become agitated. If only he’d let…me…go. “Not today,” he says. “It’s a bit chilly out there. Come inside. I’ve made some coffee.” I start whimpering—I know it sounds pathetic—like a dog that senses it is about to be beaten. The truth is, I feel so powerless. All I want to do is go outside. I wouldn’t go far. I just want to feel a part of the world again. Who does this man think he is? I am returned to my seat by the window and am distracted by the smell of coffee. I see there is also a side plate with a sliver of cake on it. “It’s carrot cake. Your favourite.” I stare at the cake and wonder how he knows what my favourite cake is. I wasn’t aware I had a favourite. I pick it up and bite into it. An explosion of wonderful flavours fills my mouth and I can see why carrot cake is my favourite. I put it down and sip my coffee. It tastes good. It makes me feel good. Something catches my eye through the window. The birds are back again. I can’t say whether they are the same birds or not, but they amuse me. I could watch them for hours. I smile. They seem so happy and carefree. I want to get a closer look, so I get up from my chair. I take no more than three steps towards the door when the man is back again. “Let me go!” I snap. I try to shake myself free of his grip, but he is stronger. I can feel my blood begin to boil. I am a grown man, for God’s sake. All I want to do is go outside. Not murder someone. I feel hot tears stream down my cheeks. I feel like collapsing into a crumpled ball on the carpet. I…just…want…to…go… “Come on, now.” He is talking to me as though I was a child. And he is leading me back to that damned chair by the window. I hate that chair. I feel a quiet rage building inside me. “You’ve hardly touched your coffee and cake.” I point over my shoulder. “I want to go—” He doesn’t even let me finish. “I know. Perhaps later. When you’ve finished your afternoon tea.” He sits me down, but I am no longer in the mood to eat or drink anything. I don’t even think I like cake. I see that I’ve only taken a single bite from it and that confirms it. It must have tasted awful. I glance across at the man with the blue eyes. I am scowling at him, though he smiles back and continues his cleaning. What is he doing in my house? Is this my house? I yawn and realise that I am feeling quite worn out. I close my eyes. Slowly, ever so slowly, I am transported to a beautiful beach. It feels familiar. I am wearing my swimsuit and am calling to someone from the water. A man appears. He is slender and bronzed. There is a light covering of hair across his chest and I know he is my lover. More than that, I know I am remembering and not fantasizing. This handsome creature is someone from my past. He enters the water, his smile lighting up his gorgeous face. “The water’s beautiful,” I say. “Of course it is. You’re in it.” Teddy. That’s his name. Teddy. Short for Theodore. An old-fashioned name, but hardly his fault. I love Teddy with all my heart and soul. And when he takes me in his arms and kisses me, my heart swells in my chest. I am so full of love and happiness, I could just explode. My c**k is hard. And so is his. I can feel it pressing against my thigh. It is much larger than mine and even the thought of it makes me want to feel it inside me. I reach down and take hold of it. He exhales. “Someone might see,” he says, looking all around. His concern amuses me, but I don’t really care. We are on holiday. We don’t know any of these people and we will never see any of them again. I turn around and pull down the back of my swimsuit, exposing the pale white orbs of my arse. “Hey. What are you doing?” asks Teddy, gasping. “Someone’ll see.” I reach behind and grip his c**k. I press it against my arsehole. “They’ll just think you’re hugging me. And you are. With your c**k inside me.” Teddy laughs and it is a sound that makes my spirit glow. I feel him rub the head of his c**k over my arsehole, smearing it with his pre-c*m. He produces copious amounts, making the purchase of manufactured lubricant redundant. In fact, even when we are kissing and cuddling naked on the bed, I get covered in his sticky emissions, and I love it. It is part of him, in sticky strings, all over my body. He pushes into me. I wince. There is a slight burning sensation around my anus as he eases the full eight inches into me. For not only is it long, but its girth is not dissimilar to that of a can of Red Bull. It stretches me wide and I cannot think of a better sensation. Until he starts kissing the back of my neck. His full lips place tender kisses from one side of my neck to the other. He lingers at the base of my right ear, his breath on the wetness of the saliva there tickles. It sends tingles up and down my spine, and makes me shudder with unadulterated ecstasy. As his fingers dig into the flesh of my hips, and he starts thrusting into me, I take my c**k in my hand and start stroking. Seagulls wheel overhead and the sunlight beats down on my naked torso. In the distance, I can hear waves gently breaking on the shore and far-away voices. But my world, for now, consists of Teddy and the vast ocean surrounding us. “I love you,” he says. “I love you,” I reply. And I do. I cannot remember a time in my life when I was happier. Teddy is not only my lover, but my soul mate. I trust him implicitly and I know we will be together until the day one of us dies. It is not just wishful thinking, a delusion brought about by the holiday spirit, but something I know as well as my own name. He is mine and I am his. Forever. All too soon, I hear his breathing become louder and harder. His hips are slapping against my thighs in the water, making little splashing sounds. He is so close to me, part of him actually inside me, that I feel we are a single entity. He is the other half of me. Inseparable. He bites my neck and grunts, and I know he is delivering his seed into me. The thought of his sperm being ejaculated into the core of my body soon has my own c**k sending jets of white into the transparent waters of the Indian Ocean. I shudder again. “God, I love you,” he whispers. * * * * When I wake up, the light has dimmed significantly. There is a small glow from a decorative lamp standing on an occasional table in the far corner of the room. The sky has turned ash grey and long shadows reach across the lawn towards me. No longer do the birds play, though even with the window closed, I can hear the sound of frogs; the frogs that are never seen but live beneath the surface of the soil along the tree line. “Dinner’s nearly ready.” I turn to the voice and see a man sitting in the armchair beside my own. He is reading a newspaper and I wonder how it is that he has come to be there. “Who are you?” I ask, for I desperately want to know. “Who…?” He stands, smiling, and leans down to pat my arm. “It won’t be long. I’ll get your pills.” I nod, but find his unwillingness to tell me who he is disconcerting. He leaves the room and I close my eyes. I see a younger man. Very handsome. He looks like someone I know and it slowly dawns on me that it is Teddy. We are no longer on the beach, but in a cabin in the woods. Our cabin. He is stoking the fire and I am cooking something—salmon—in a pan over an old iron, wood-fired stove. “Won’t be long,” I say. He finishes at the hearth and comes up behind me. Already he is erect. I can feel his excitement as he grinds his hips against my buttocks. He nibbles my ear from behind and it makes me shudder. “I’ve got dessert,” he says. “Right here.” I thrust my arse back and he presses his c**k even harder against me. I am powerless against its attraction. I take the pan off the stove and get down on my knees. “Hey, you can’t have dessert before dinner.” I take his thick c**k into my mouth, tasting his pre-c*m almost immediately. I swallow his engorged organ as far down as it will go before coming back up again. I hear a long moan and know he is enjoying my mouth. I begin slipping my lips up and down his veined prick in smooth, rhythmic repetitions, working my tongue along the base of the shaft. With the aroma of fried salmon in our noses, I pleasure him just the way I know he likes it and am soon rewarded with a mouthful of warm sperm. I swallow it greedily and tongue the eye of his c**k to collect every last drop. His nectar is addictive, and I can never get enough. I am shaken from my reminiscences. The face smiling down at me seems vaguely familiar. I am handed a glass of water and two white tablets are dropped into the palm of my other hand. “Take these,” he says, and I do. After I swallow, he leans down and kisses me. And after his lips leave mine, he hesitates a while, his blue eyes gazing into mine. He is so handsome, this stranger, and the way he is looking at me reminds me of…I can’t remember who. He kisses me again and steps away, taking the cold coffee and the uneaten cake that for some reason is on the table beside me. As he walks away, I remember something. I see a flash of my reminiscence and suddenly I remember him. “Teddy?” I mumble. He keeps moving away from me. “Teddy?” I say a little louder. He turns and smiles. “Yes?” “Teddy,” I say, though it is no longer a question. “Teddy.” “Yes, it’s Teddy.” Suddenly, I am overwhelmed with emotion. It takes me by surprise. I am so happy, but I feel tears trickling down my cheeks, tickling as they fall. I feel an unbreakable sense of being loved, and of loving. My smile grows wider, as does his. “Teddy,” I whisper. In the available light, supplied by the fire and the lamp, I see his eyes glisten and I get the feeling he sees someone he remembers, too.