Warm Threshold

Hi all, bit longer than my usual works and if this gets good reception this will become part one. This is a true story of how I met and fucked my now boyfriend. I have wanted to share this story for a while but even though I have changed names, I wanted the approval of my boyfriend as it includes a part of his life he is uncomfortable about. He finally agreed so I hope you can enjoy in some way. Please leave comments as will drive me on to do better and more. (I know my writing skills can be poor).

It involves (as the title should make clear) homelessness, so some de***********ions are purposely “gross” to set the scene. I feel it need warning. But I hope you see this as a story about love and instant connection as that is what happened.

For them that like to read sex scenes scroll down, a bit of background at the beginning that I know isn’t everyone’s thing, but part two will be more focused on this.

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The rain rattled down against the windows of my workplace, the wind complimented the rain by howling through the building. “better pack up now lads, flooding all over. News advising we leave now or we will be staying the night.” My boss shouted from his office on the same floor. I nodded in his direction as I fed my arms into my coat.

I was packed up and out in record time, my car was a short hop down the high street as I opened the office door, looked up at the relentless rain, sighed and stepped out from under the shelter. Throwing my hood over my short, gelled hair. I walked at a faster pace than normal. The rain soaked me through and the puddles leaked through my shoes and onto my socks. Every footstep I squelched. My hood was useless the wind decided I looked better without so kept taking it of my head.

Halfway down the high-street arched in the doorway of a shop was a homeless man, mid to late 40’s, slim, long messy hair (wet but you could still tell it was greasy), unkempt beard that covers his lips with grey bits showing through it and he was huddled into himself in his wet sleeping bag. He looked at me as a puppy looks at its owner “spare me some change, sir” he said politely. I noticed he had yellowing teeth, and not many of them at that. I’m ashamed to admit to you now that I ignored him. The rain was intense the wind bitter and I didn’t have any cash anyway. But not even a “no, sorry” was muttered, I carried on to my car.

Finally my car – a grey BMW with luscious red leather seats. And while I tell anyone who listens of my pride for this car! Right now, at this moment it was not it’s BHP, its torque or its looks that was its best feature it was simply the fact that it was dry. I clicked my “clicker” and she flashed to tell me she was unlocked. As I reached for the handle I stopped, guilt hit me. I left that man in the doorway of that soaking and alone.

But what could I do? I had no cash. But I did have my card. I’ll go grab him some cash. That’s it! I clicked my “clicker” once again and locked the car. And ventured back onto the high street to find him.

“Hi,” I stammered “Sorry I ignored you” I offered my apology.

“Your not the first” I had the feeling from his tone he didn’t really expect anything else from a office worker like me. In his smart suit and his smart shoes.

I looked down at him, this time physically not metaphorically as I did before. I wondered what good cash would so for him? The shops had closed early. And I didn’t know of any hotels or BnB near buy, on top of this what would that have cost £60-70? I wasn’t going to give him that amount of money. I wouldn’t feel he was safe.

What happened next I didn’t think about, I acted on impulse. “mate, its horrid and it’s getting worse the rivers are bursting their banks. Do you want to come home with me have a warm shower, grab a warm meal and somewhere dry to sleep. I’ll wash your clothes and dry them over night?” it seemed the human and Christian thing to do. It didn’t occur to me that this man could have been on drugs or any sort of substance abuse that the media like to report. And luckily neither did he think I was some sort of serial killer as he responded with a positive nod and started to pack his limited amount of things up into his carry all.

I think he was desperate. The outside was no place for him, was no place for anyone.

We headed back to my car. And for the first time I got a good look at him, taller than I’d imagine. He was taller than me 6ft 3 ISH I’d say. He wore combats trousers and a scruffy hoody that had underneath it 4-5 layers. He had boots, but one was torn at the front and his toe stuck through. This man had been living rough a while, it broke my heart.

We got to the car, it embarrassed me this time. As before I have gloated and I have shown off in this car. Why not a young 20 year old man doing well for himself. But now it just served a purpose, to me anyway, the contrast between me and him.

I owned a flat, 20 minutes from town. Well normally 20 minutes, the flooding and everyone else fighting to get home caused gridlock all around town. This time it took me over an hour.

Alone in the car, the only thing that I can describe to you clearly today is the smell. This poor man smelled bad. His wet clothes smelled like wet dog. His feet and boots stunk of feet. His breath was not pleasant and he also smelt of outside, the smell you get of someone who has been outdoors for a while hard to describe but the muck, wet and sweat goes somewhere close to a de***********ion. This was not his fault of course, but it didn’t make me wish I could get home quicker or failing that at least open a window.

The journey home did allow for me to get to know this man. As a human.

“Im Dean,” I started with

“Joe” he snapped back.

The conversation was difficult, Joe never really opened up to me in the car. Maybe it was fear but maybe it was embarrassment of having to accept help of a guy 20-30 years younger. Either way I never got the impression that he was rude or ungrateful.

“Have you looked into shelter? Like a hostel or something that can get you of the streets?” I felt it rude to ask, but I needed to help this man long term. This won’t be the last night it rains.

“Cant, Sir?” he said

“Please, Its Dean, and Why?” curiosity or fear hit me, why would he be kicked out? Can they kick out?

“Fighting”

I didn’t press any more. In all honesty at this point I was questioning my self, this is properly scary and if I could have had a way out I would have taken it. Here I am with a “Violent “homeless person, deemed unworthy of help. that in approximately 5 more minutes I will be showing around my flat.

We arrived home as I pulled into the flats car park. We didn’t talk as we got out of the car. Or when he followed me into the block of flats and up the stairs to mine.

We entered the hallway and I kicked of my shoes, Joe saw me assumed he needed to do the same and removed his boots. “Right Joe, the bathroom is on the right there” I point at the door. “why don’t you go in take your clothes of and leave them on outside of door so i can put them in the washer. There is a towel hung up, its clean you can use that. I’ll go look to see if I can find you some clothes to lounge in”

He nodded, I left him in peace for a while before heading back and picking up his clothes and taking to the kitchen where my washing machine is. I picked up his hoody, which still had his layers attached on the inside. I removed each layer and threw in the washing machine. His trousers still had his boxers inside, so I pulled them out and put both items in separately and then finally his socks. All the while trying not to look at or smell any of these things.

I heard the shower turn off, I had forgot to find some clothes for him so I hurried to my wardrobe and fumbled around. I found a clean hoody and some jogger bottoms. And placed them on the outside of the bathroom. “Joe, I have put you some clothes on the outside, when your ready.” I shouted through the door.

And went to sit in my lounge with the hallway door open as so Joe, who had only seen the hallway and the bathroom could see where to go. He came out carrying his towel and dressed in my clothes. Still looking a mess with his hair and his beard but at least he was warm and cleaner. He handed me the towel which I noticed was stained with brown. I was a little disgusted that even after a shower he was still mucky, but I didn’t feel I could judge. I took the towel and threw it in the kitchen ready to put in the next wash.

“What do you fancy to eat?” I asked

He shrugged, it dawned on me it’s been a long time since someone would have asked what he would like.

“Ill go make us something!” I said. Handing him the remote for the TV.

I don’t know why but I looked at his now bare feet. His nails where yellow and chipped and long. He had blisters and rashes all over his feet.

In the kitchen I was muttering to my self “Something, something, something” trying to get some inspiration as to what to cook.

No idea why, I chose sausage, egg, chips and beans. Which I got to work preparing. If this culinary masterpiece can be described as preparing.

Anyway I served it on our knees on the sofa in the living room along with a glass of water. He spent no time at all before he was tucking in.

I didn’t do any of this for thanks but it was nice when for the first time I got.

“thank you, for everything Dean” is eyes was much more alert now after warming up and some tea.

“Your quite ok,” I said, with a smile.

After tea, I needed a shower myself. So I quickly pointed to the kitchen and said “i’m going to get a quick shower, the kitchen is over there if you need anything,” and for the first time I said “make yourself at home” the thanks I received put me at ease around Joe.

I noticed the hallway smelled, his boots that he kicked off filled the room.

The bathroom had also kept his smell.

Not that I’m complaining it only helped me to realise I have done the right thing. As the rain still came down. The shower base was mucky, I swilled it out before getting undressed.

I undressed , and looked at myself in the mirror, Slim athletic lad, clean shaven and average cock. Is how I’d describe myself and how my gay dating app describes me also.

I turned the shower on and jumped in. Squeezing shower gel onto my hands and soaping up my body and pits, then my cock and balls get a clean. Before putting my head under the water to wet it. I didn’t want to stay long. I trusted the man but I didn’t want him to feel awkward on himself.

I jumped out of the shower. grabbed a towel and wrapped it around my waste. I’m so used to not bringing clothes into the shower, on the account of living alone. I had forgot to this time. And as such I needed to walk through the living room to the bedroom to get dressed. The towel was all I had to hide my modesty.

As I opened the bathroom door, the door that connects the hallway to the room slammed shut. What? I asked myself. Was he looking at me shower? Was he listening? Was he looking for me but got spooked by me coming out of bathroom? Or was it simply the act of air from my closing the bathroom door causing the living room door to close?.

I opened the living room door and instantly looked at Joe who was sat on the sofa, not doing anything which was mysterious in its self, just sat upright with his hands on his trousers.

“Excuse me, just need to get dressed” I said hurrying to my bedroom.

I couldn’t shake the feeling that he was spying on me back then in the bathroom. I tried to think back I’m sure I shut that door behind me, I’m sure of it!.

Two strange and connected things happened when I convinced my self he was looking. One, it didn’t disgust me and two, I was getting hard. I know what your thinking!, but when your young you do find yourself in situations just like this, I was constantly getting aroused at this time.

I got dressed into some loungewear and went in the room to join in him on the sofa.

He looked nervous. Something had changed since I fed him.

“Dean, I owe you an explanation, I saw the look on your face when... When I said I’d been kicked out for fighting”

“You don’t have to!” I interjected.

“ You let me in your home, you need to know what you have let yourself into. Ya see I’m Gay, in fact that’s why I’m homeless in the first place my step dad didn’t want a queer in his house so kicked me out. Anyway I got close with another man in the hostel. Unfortunately a newer guy in the hostel found out and beat the shit out of me. I can’t go back he said he’d kill me” he explained I just listened.

“Anyway, thank you for helping me out tonight, don’t feel like you have any obligation if you want me to leave I will” he looked genuine.

“No it’s ok, you stay.” I demanded.

“Don’t want you feeling uncomfortable, your a nice young lad.” He smiled for the first time.

“No, no not uncomfortable, urm” I hesitated but then blurted out “I’m gay too” I felt like it would put his mind at ease. I think it did.

The night went out, we was both much more at ease with each other. Conversation flowed. Found out all about his life, his struggle with homophobia and everything that comes with been homeless in Britain. He also was interested in me, he wasn’t as I first thought jealous of envious of me but genuinely interested in my job, my family and my love life (or lack of).

He yawned

“Right I only have the one room, you take my bed. I’ll take the sofa.” I offered.

“No I cant do that, I’ll have the sofa” he argued.

“I insist. I’ll be ok” and smiled reassuringly at him.

“thank you.” His face gleamed.

He got up to head to the bedroom, but quickly turned back to me as if he just had a surge of confidence and quickly pecked my lips with his.