Gay Erotic Stories

“At first you were loving me, needing me, wanting me Now you’re leaving me, teasing me, taunting me You promised you’d be with me, stay with me, until you died Now that you’re gone with him I know it was all a lie You left me confused, abused, wallowing in despair What hurts the most, my love, is that you don’t even care”

Those are the tragic words of lost love as narrated by one of my favorite bands of all time, Banshee’s Keen. Banshee’s Keen is a local Irish band with a distinctive sound that can only be described as Irish Goth Rock. Like a deranged infusion of Nine Inch Nails and Celtic folk music, they deliver their messages of love and betrayal over chaotic beats and bizarre melodies. I must admit, their music is darker and somewhat less palatable than the mainstream rock, pop, and hip-hop that I normally listen to. But there is something so addictive about their sound, or perhaps I should say someone. Amidst the cacophony of drums and guitars and fiddles, there is the single unifying sound: the languid, somber voice of their front man, Liam Riordan.

In one word, Liam is a god! Not only is he the most gifted singer and songwriter to ever walk the face of the Earth but he is also, in my opinion, the definition of sex. I think most would define him as cute, even though he’s not Armani-model beautiful. What he lacks in classical beauty, he more than makes up for in raw sensuality.

If you’re lucky enough to catch him off stage, either in person or in an interview, he is elusive and mysterious, divulging very little about himself unless it relates to his music. On stage, he embodies the dark, bitter, and brooding nature of his songs.

And what a body! Liam starts every show in the same gear: tight, black leather pants; black biker boots with obligatory silver buckles; a T-shirt, usually white, black, or gray; and a long, black trench coat that accentuated his 6’2” frame. The trench is usually gone by the end of the first song and the shirt is soon to follow. By the fourth song, Liam is sweaty, bare-chested and wailing his lungs out – guaranteed. I’ve spent many concerts studying every inch of his pale, almost waif-like torso: from the dark, quarter-sized areolas that encircled his tasty eraser-sized nipples; to the long scar on his side, possibly a faint reminder of a late-night skirmish in his wild youth. And there was no way I could ignore the hefty bulge in those leather pants.

There is a downside to being a Banshee’s Keen fan: they rarely leave Ireland so, in order to see them play live, you have to take a trip to Dublin. At first, I made regular pilgrimages to the Emerald Isle but, as the demands of work grew, it became increasingly harder to make the trip. It had been almost two years since my last trip to Ireland before Larry gave me enough time off to make it worthwhile to take another trip there. After years of being deprived of Liam, I would finally get to see him again. Fifteen days, and I planned to spend every night jamming to the sounds of Banshee’s Keen and basking in the glory of Liam Riordan. Life couldn’t get any better, I thought.

As luck would have it, the band was playing a five-night gig at Red Box – in my opinion, one of the hottest spots in Dublin. Every night, I managed to muscle my way to the front of the crowd where I could feast upon his gorgeous, sweaty body, gaze into his mournful eyes, and get lost in the sound of his wailing voice. Every night, I’d wish the concerts were just a little bit longer so I could spend more time with him. Every night, I’d hang around at the bar, until it closed, foolishly waiting to catch a glimpse of Liam. I wished I could meet him and talk to him, but I knew that would never happen – Liam was a virtual recluse.

The rest of the band usually came out into club after the show and mingled with the fans, but not Liam. If I wanted to meet Liam I was going to have to take matters into my own hands. On the night of their last show at Red Box, an opportunity presented itself in a conversation between two crewmembers.

The older one, probably the group’s manager or something, handed the younger one a stack of papers. “Take these to Riordan,” he said. “Wait for him to sign them then bring them back to me.”

“Aw bleedin’ hell Mr. Cassidy! I’m already late for me date as is. Siobhan’s gonna be vexed, she is.”

“I don’t give a rat’s arse, Angus. Get those papers to Liam… NOW!”

The boy snatched the papers out of the guy’s hands and stormed off. I ran off to intercept him.

“Hey kid!” I called to him. Angus turned and looked at me, pointing to himself questioningly. “Yeah you, come here.”

He rolled his eyes and trudged towards me. “Yeah, what do you want?”

“I’ll give you 50 punts if you let me deliver those papers to Liam.”

“Get bent! Mr. Cassidy would have me arse and that ain’t worth no fucking 50 punts.”

“Fine, I’ll give you 100.” Angus started to walk away. Greedy punk! “300 punts.”

Angus stopped in his tracks and turned around to face me. “300 punts?” he asked. I nodded. “Let’s see it then.”

I pulled out a wad of cash (I really shouldn’t carry that much cash on me – it’s a dangerous habit) and peeled off 300 punts. Angus snatched the money out of my hand and gave me the papers.

“Thanks,” he said, shoving the money in his pocket and running off.

“I guess I’ll have to wing it,” I thought.

I walked backstage, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. There were still a few members of the stage crew milling about, but they were all so busy doing their own thing that they hardly noticed me. As long as I stayed away from Mr. Cassidy I figured I was home free.

I crept backstage and easily found the dressing room. I’d seen the other band members leave with “dates” so I figured he had to be in there alone. Only a door and a few yards of air stood between my Irish rock star and me. My heart raced and my hands were shaking as I reached for the handle.

“Wait a minute, what am I doing?” I debated with myself. “I can’t just waltz into his room. He’ll know I’m not a member of his crew and he’ll have me kicked out… or arrested. But I’ve come this far already; I can’t turn back now. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. I can weasel my way out of this.”

I took a deep breath, turned the handle and walked in. Liam was standing in the middle of the room with his back to me, toweling off from a recent shower. “That you Angus?” he asked, turning around to find me standing in the door, slack-jawed and befuddled.

“Be Jaysus!” he yelled. “Ye’re nah Angus. Who the bleedin’ hell are ye and why the fokke are ye in me dressin’ room?”

He quickly wrapped the towel around his waist but it was too late for modesty; I’d already gotten a good look at his equipment. Much like its owner, it was pale and thin, but it had good length to it; six, maybe seven inches soft. He picked up the phone and started dialing a number – probably the police.

“Wait, I can explain!” I blurted out. Liam stopped dialing and looked at me in expectation. How the hell was I going to explain this?

“I’m a new stagehand. Mr. Cassidy asked me to bring you these papers to sign.”

He looked at me suspiciously but at least he stopped dialing. He put the phone down, walked towards me and grabbed the papers from my trembling hand. He skimmed the documents and nodded his head. “Good, I’ve been waitin’ for these.”

He sat down and started rifling through the papers, signing this one and another. I had another unobstructed view of his manhood through the opening of his towel. It rested quietly on top of his hairy sac. I licked my chops just thinking about sipping on it. “So what’s yer name fellah?”

“Huh? Oh, John Paul,” I said quickly looking away from the object of my desire. Luckily, he was still scouring over the documents and didn’t seem to notice my lustful gaze.

“Is this yer first night?” he asked, signing the last page and pushing the papers aside.

I nodded bashfully. He smiled and said, “Ayr ye likin’ it so far?”

“Oh yes, I like it just fine,” I said and smiled back at him.

It’s a shame I’d never seen him smile before; it was surprisingly warm and gentle. He had a glimmer in his stunningly gray eyes that made me feel at ease.

“Yer nah from around here ayr ye?”

“No, I’m from Washington, D.C.,” I replied.

“I though’ I heard a Yankee accent in ye. What ayr ye doin’ all the way over here workin’ for us?”

“I’ve always been a big fan of your music, so I quit my job, moved to Ireland in hopes of getting a job working on your crew.”

“Lucky you. I dinna even know we were hirin’.”

“Yeah, lucky me,” I said.

My brilliant lie was interrupted by a knock on the door.

“Come in,” Liam yelled out.

Who should walk in but Mr. Cassidy? Of all the fucking luck! I tried not to panic, but I knew I’d been caught. Mr. Cassidy looked at me with a concerned scowl on his face.

“Who the fokke is this?” he asked. “And where the fokke is Angus?”

I started to blurt out some half-baked lie, but Liam cut me off. “This is John Paul, me ole skin from America. He’s here to visit for a few days.” He held out the signed papers for Mr. Cassidy then added, “Angus dropped these off for me t’ sign then ran off… somethin’ about a date.”

“Very good,” Cassidy said, quickly looking over the papers. “Nice to meet ye John Paul.”

“Likewise,” I said, wiping the sweat from my brow.

After Cassidy left, Liam stood up, walked to the closet and grabbed a pair of jeans.

“Why’d you cover for me?” I asked.

“I dinno,” he said, slipping into the jeans. “Ye seem like a nice enough fellah. Not a very good liar, but nice nonetheless. Besides Cassidy would’ve overreacted… there’s no need for that.”

“You knew I was lying all along?”

“Sure. I knew we hadna hire anyone new especially nah a Yank… no offense.” He grabbed a white T-shirt and slid it over his head. “And I’ve seen ye standin’ in the audience every night this week.”

“You noticed me?” I asked.

I sounded like a fucking moron repeating everything he said but, in my defense, the whole situation was all a bit startling. Not only had he protected me, a complete stranger, from certain prosecution and the realization but he also noticed me out of almost a thousand screaming, moshing fans.

“Don take this the wrong way, but ye kinda stick out in the crowd, ye know?”

“Yeah, I guess I do.”

He smiled again and put my beating heart to rest.

“The place is ‘bout t’ close, what’s say ye and I go for a walk. Ye can tell me how ye got back here in the first place.”

I eagerly agreed and we walked out together into the cool April air. Along the way to our unknown destination I explained my costly payoff to Angus. He laughed at the absurdity of it all but also seemed to appreciate my foolish devotion. We walked and talked some more. Liam was very easy to talk to but as I expected, he was very reticent. He never brought up anything very meaningful or personal about himself other than his music and concentrated a lot of effort on learning more about me. I rambled on endlessly about myself and Liam seemed content to listen. After walking aimlessly about Dublin for almost two hours, Liam stopped in front of a line of Edwardian row houses.

“Where are we? Why are we stopping?” I asked.

“This is me house,” he said. “It’s kinda late… I thought maybe ye’d jist like to crash here.”

“No, I couldn’t…”

“I insist.”

He already had the gate open and waited for me to walk through. I hesitated, but who was I kidding? I wanted so badly to spend the night even if though I knew there’d be nothing happening between us… sexually that is. Just the idea of sleeping in Liam’s house was exciting. He beamed happily as I stepped through the gate and followed him into his house.

He took me on a tour of his house. It wasn’t at all what I expected of a rock musician’s home. There were no bold colors, animal prints, or furry furniture; no grim images of demons or chains hanging from the ceiling. His home was decorated with all the warmth and elegance of old money.

We walked upstairs where he showed me his spacious chamber and that of his lovable Rottweiler, Gus. Then he showed me to my room.

“I can scrounge up a pair o’ pajamas if ye need ‘em.”

“No, I’ll be fine… I sleep in my underwear,” I said, divulging him more information than he needed – or wanted.

“Very well, then… good night. Let me know if ye need anythin’.”

I thanked him and he left the room. As soon as the door closed behind him I leapt into the air and let out a muffled yell. How cool was I; sleeping in the home of Liam Riordan. I stripped off my clothes and jumped into bed. Staring at the wall that separated my room from Liam’s, I imagined him lying in bed in a similar state of undress or maybe even more so. I got hard just thinking about it. Somehow I managed to drift off into a sleep filled with lurid dreams starring my sexy rock-star and me.

I woke up the next morning to the glorious smell of… food. I wasn’t sure what it was but it smelled wonderful and, given that I hadn’t eaten since the morning before, I didn’t really care what it was as long as I was getting some. I jumped out of bed, slipped on my jeans and padded downstairs, following the scent of frying meat.

Liam was standing at the stove, similarly dressed in a pair of jeans and nothing else, busy with his cooking duties while Gus sat at his feet desperately hoping for a scrap or two to fall his way. I stopped to appreciate how sexy he looked just as ordinary Liam, without the spiky hair or the leather clothes.

“Good mornin’,” he said, looking away up from the stove long enough to flash me a warm morning smile. “What about ye? Didja sleep easy?”

“Yes, I slept well, thanks.” I walked over to the stove to take a peek at what was cooking. “That smells wonderful, what is it?”

“I dinno what ye’d call it. I jist mix some sausage and bacon and eggs and onions and peppers together and pray that I don burn meself. I thought ye’d be hungry once ye got yer lazy arse outta bed.”

“You’re quite the homemaker,” I commented.

“I do the best I can.”

“Doesn’t it get lonely living here all alone?”

“I’m not alone, I’ve got good ole Gus,” he answered, finally tossing his companion a scrap of food.

“You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, I know what ye mean.” He voice was less lively now. “I din always live alone, ye know. I used t’ have someone to share me home with.”

“What happened?” I asked, not stopping to realize how personal my question was. “If you don’t mind me asking,” I added.

“It jis dinna work. I was too busy with me music to give him the attention he nidded.” Liam stirred the food more vigorously.

Thoughts of Adam came rushing to mind. I understood how he felt. “I’ve been down that road myself. I loved him so much, but I loved my work even more… or at least that’s how he felt.”

“Aye, but ye loved him more then ye cared to admit dincha?”

I nodded in agreement. He forked out some of the breakfast hash and offered it to me to sample.

“Mm, that’s fantastic!”

He smiled and hoisted the iron skillet over to the table. As he walked away and I swallowed the last bits of his delicious concoction, it dawned on me that he’d said “he” when talking about his ex. It was amazing how carelessly and effortlessly he broached the subject and how easily I glossed over it. I thought he would have been more guarded with his personal life. I should have just let it go, but I couldn’t.

“You’re gay?”

He chuckled and smirked. “Aye; I thought we’d established that already.”

“Yeah, I guess we did,” I said.

He sat down at the table and gestured at the chair next to him. “Sit down and eat, before yer food gets cold.”

I sat down beside him and started eating. We didn’t talk about it anymore – the breakup or his sexuality that is. There was nothing to talk about I suppose. I certainly didn’t want to revisit the subject of Adam, something I still hadn’t gotten over. And subject of his sexuality was irrelevant. It didn’t change how I felt about him. The fact still remained that he was a star in my eyes, forever unattainable although we were both half-dressed sitting in his kitchen eating a meal that he had cooked for me. I was just happy to be in his presence – the thought of anything happening between us never occurred to me.

Liam watched me wolf down my breakfast. He hardly ate anything, just kind of played with his food. “You gonna eat that?” I asked. With a look of amazement and a hearty chuckle, he slid his plate over to me and watched me devour that. I finished gorging and pushed away from the table.

“That was fantastic!” I bellowed. He barely broke a smile--his mind was elsewhere. “A penny for your thoughts,” I said, nudging him. His eyes blinked back to reality and turned to me. He looked like he wanted to say something; his mouth was open to speak but the words seemed to be caught in his throat.

“What is it?” I asked.

His soft, gray eyes shifted downward. “I was wonderin’ if ye’d be willing to spend the rest of yer stay with Gus and me.”

“You’re kidding, right? You want me to stay here… with you… for 10 days?”

“I know it may sound strange, but…”

“I’ll do it,” I blurted out before he had a chance to talk himself out of it.

“Ye hear that Gus? We have a guest!”

Gus didn’t share our enthusiasm; he only seemed interested in the prospect of more food coming his way. So I checked out of my hotel and into Liam’s Inn. We spent the first day just hanging out, talking and laughing, until it was time for Liam to get ready for that night’s concert. He invited me to their rehearsal and let me stand backstage during the performance. I talked him into going to the pub with the rest of the band that night. He balked at the idea at first but ended up having the time of his life. We returned to the house that night, drunk and exhausted, and crashed on the living room floor. That was our agenda for the next nine days, more or less. I got to watch the band record in the studio in Liam’s basement and they even let me sing backup on one of the songs. I was having the time of my life, but what made it really special is that Liam and I were getting really close. As the days passed, he started to open up more. The more I learned about him, the more enamored I became with him. Eventually, I thought of him as more than just an idol on a pedestal and believed that he thought of me as more than just another fan.

Friday came too quickly, bringing with it the end of my vacation. I was to fly back home the next afternoon. There was an uneasy tension between Liam and me that day. Neither of us was ready for our time together to end, but neither one of us was sure how to deal with it. So we dealt with by not dealing with it at all. We hardly even spoke to each other and I decided not to watch them record or rehearse. Nothing, however, was going to keep me away from one last performance.

I never grew tired of listening to them – to him – even as they performed the same set that they’d performed for the last fifteen nights. From backstage, I mouthed every word in perfect unison and found myself lost in the emotions of the songs in a way I’d never experienced before. I understood the anguish in Liam’s voice in a way that I never had before – and shared it. It was the agony of saying goodbye.

After they performed what was usually their last song, Liam turned to the band and mumbled something. They all nodded and started playing.

“This here’s a new one. I’d like t’ dedicate it to someone very special who stumbled into me life unexpectedly,” he said.

“Imperfect, damaged, incomplete was I A bike with no wheel, a kite with no string Owned the pain, made it my own, turned it around thought I My muse, my inspiration, my reason to sing

Wrong, mistaken, misguided was I Pain was my jail, the music my penance

My savior, my teacher, my solution are you You complete the puzzle; you’re the part that fits New vision, new purpose, new life gave you If ever I had a muse, my love, you are it

Enlightened, renewed, liberated now am I Love is my freedom, the music my innocence”

The crowd was silent. I couldn’t tell by their wide-eyed stares if they liked the song or not, but I didn’t give a fuck. It was my song. It didn’t matter if no one else in the world got it – I got it. It rocked me to the core of my being.

When he finished, he turned to me and smiled. After a brief and deafening silence, the audience went wild, screaming and chanting for more. Liam ignored their pleas, wished them a good night, and made a speedy exit, stage left, to me. He stood before me in all his sweaty, breathless glory.

“Didja like yer song?” he asked.

I struggled to fight back the tears – I’m a man dammit and men don’t cry! “I don’t know what to say, Liam…”

“Then don’t say anythin’.”

He tilted his head forward and brushed his lips against mine, as if he wasn’t sure whether he should kiss me or not. I pressed my lips into his, forcing a sigh of satisfaction out of him. We kissed for a while – nothing that would be considered lewd public behavior, just enough to get a few embarrassing comments from his band-mates: “The Yank’s got Liam up on a post-box, he has,” “I’d fok ‘im too if he sang a song to me,” “The front-man always gets the hot ones,” they teased.

He blushed, but otherwise ignored their taunts. If he felt the way I did, the only thing on his mind getting back to his place so we could spend our last night together making love.

We stood at the foot of Liam’s bed, groping each other with all the awkwardness of high school virgins. I quickly undressed him, eager to see him naked again. He seemed a little embarrassed about being undressed like a child, but all the humiliation washed off his face when he felt my fingers glide over his bare chest. He returned the favor by pulling my shirt over my head, but leaving my pants on.

“Is this alright?” he asked, grabbing my crotch and giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Yeah… it feels… pretty right to me,” I said, succumbing to the gentle touch of his hand through the denim.

Then, as if by magic, my jeans slid off my hips and onto the floor and I was now as naked as Liam. His dick tapped against my bare thigh. I looked down at it. It was long and slender just as I had remembered but, close up, I could see the thick arteries pumping blood into his excited cock, solidifying the eight inches of Irish meat. I grabbed it and squeezed it to make sure it was real. He reciprocated.

My heart was pounding against my ribs. A week ago, I thought I was in heaven just being near Liam, now I had his cock in my hand and he was lovingly stroking mine. He lifted my head and his soft lips touched mine. I gasped sharply and found my mouth suddenly filled with Liam’s probing tongue. That time, he kissed me like a rock star should: wet and just a little sloppy, with a hint of urgency and a healthy dose of arrogance. He pulled back, nibbled on my pouting lower lip a few times then dove in for another kiss.

Liam’s hands had slid around my back and now had a firm hold on my ass. He pulled my hips forward, making the small the gap between us even smaller, until our bodies were crushed together in an intimate embrace. I subconsciously humped his stomach, delighting in the feel of his navel ring against the underside of my cock and his balls smacking against mine. And still we kissed, neither one of us wanting to breathe in fear that we would somehow disconnect.

My fingers ambled up the side of his body, lightly gliding over the bumps of his thin, muscular form until they came to rest on his nipples. I tweaked the tiny hardware dangling from them, causing them to jump to attention. Liam gasped from the sensation and sucked the remainder of what little air was left in my lungs. I willingly gave him my last breath.

He leaned back so I could play with his nipples some more. I tugged on the silver hoops roughly to test his mettle – he liked it; I could tell by the wicked gleam in his eyes. I pulled on the rings again, and again, and listened to them jingle as his nipples snapped back. With each tug, Liam gave my ass a firm squeeze and drove his cock between my thighs. The shaft tickled my balls with each stroke.

He removed his left hand from my ass and wove his fingers through my hair. I felt a tug and my head snapped back, exposing my throat to Liam’s voracious mouth. I felt his teeth against my skin, gently nibbling on my neck, followed by his tongue lapping at my throat… then my collarbone… my chest… my nipples…. He let go of my hair and continued to lick and kiss his way across my chest and down my stomach. I couldn’t believe what he was about to do. It was mind-boggling to think that Liam was going to suck my cock. After all our bonding, I still thought of him as my idol, my demi-god. I was supposed to lavish him with my affection, not the other way around.

Liam gave the tip a good suck, sending chills through my body. His tongue danced across the slit drawing out a sticky string of precum until it snapped and landed on his lip. “Mm,” he said, licking up the clear goo. He repeated this maneuver a few more times before he clutched my balls and settled into properly sucking my dick. I watched more than half of my cock disappear into his mouth.

“Oh yeah… suck that cock Liam,” I prompted. He complied with increased vigor, loudly sucking and slurping on my pole.

I grabbed the back of his head and forced even more of my dick down his mouth. Liam choked a bit, but continued to devour my prod. After a few more minutes of his ardent cock-sucking, he had the cum bubbling up in my nuts. They quivered and tightened up in preparation of exploding down his throat. I let go and pulled my cock out of his mouth. He tilted his head back, opened his mouth and poked out his tongue – he wanted to taste my load. Why should I deny him?

I slapped his face, lips and tongue with my dick a few times before pumping the slimy slab of meat. Liam had coated it with a good amount of spit, which I used to facilitate in my dick stroking. It didn’t take me long to get to the edge again. I aimed my cock at his yawning mouth. Just seeing him there, waiting for me to feed him my cum was enough to get me off. My cock throbbed in my hand and dumped a huge load of jizz on Liam’s tongue. I tried to get it all in his mouth, but my dick had a mind of its own – the next few spurts landed all over his lips, nose, cheek or chin. Liam drank down every drop and licked his lips clean.

I bent over and gave him a kiss, tasting my own sweet semen on his lips and tongue. His cock was so swollen it looked like it hurt. I grabbed it and pulled Liam to his feet. I gave him another kiss – I loved the feel of his soft, pouty lips – then crawled onto the bed on my stomach. Liam crawled in behind me and laid his body on top of me. His cock naturally came to rest between my firm ass cheeks as if it was destined to be there.

Liam humped my butt while planting wet kisses on my back and neck. Then I felt his hand gently exploring the cleft and his finger grazing across my sensitive hole. It was wet, with his spit I guess, and entered me easily. I moaned into the pillow as his finger burrowed into my rectum. He probed around inside for a bit, teasing my spot with his fingertip. He pulled it out and, a few seconds later, added a second slippery digit to the mix.

His fingers poked and stretched my hole, getting me ready for the real deal. I was hard again from the attention being paid to my prostate and the friction of my cock against his silk sheets as I thrust my ass back onto his fingers.

“Yer a horny li’l bastard aren’tcha?” he asked teasingly.

“Who wouldn’t be?” I whined. “The way you’re fingering my hole is incredible.”

“Ye lak it?” I nodded.

“You wan me t’ fok ye?” I nodded again.

“That’s nah very convincin’,” he said, plunging his fingers further into my chute.

My ass itched to be filled properly. Don’t get me wrong, he was working magic with his fingers, but there’s nothing like a cock… nothing!

“Stop teasing me, Liam! I want to feel you inside of mmmm… oh yeah, deeper… C’mon Liam fuck me please!”

He withdrew his fingers and repositioned himself on the bed so that he was on his side, facing me. He grabbed my hip and rolled me over onto my side so that he was spooning me. I felt the tip of his cock pressing against my ass then sliding DEEP into my tightness. Once he was settled in, Liam wrapped his arm around my waist and proceeded to fuck me, very slowly, very deeply.

He held me tight and rested his head on my shoulder as his dick slid in and out of my ass. We fucked like that for almost a half hour before he showed signs of his imminent orgasm. His thrusts became more eager – he drove into me faster, harder… deeper – and his breath was ragged and more frequently came along with a whimper or a moan. He gave my hole a few short, forceful jabs and sprayed the insides of my ass with his cum.

His body tensed as the orgasm coursed through it then, as he deposited the last few drops of jizz deep inside me, it relaxed and melted into me. He gave me a gentle kiss on the cheek then rested his head on my shoulder again. I thought he’d fallen asleep until he said, “D’ye have t’ go back? Can’t ye stay here with me forever?”

I sighed. He had no idea how badly I wanted to say yes to his offer, but I couldn’t. We were two men passionate about our work – work that had already wrecked a relationship for each of us. He didn’t like it any more than I did, but that was just the reality of things.

So, we made the best of what little time we had left together: talking, kissing, flirting, touching… fucking. Eventually we both dozed off in a state of complete bliss.

I woke up the next morning and packed my things while Liam watched silently from the hallway. He didn’t go with me to the airport, which was probably best for both of us. I said farewell to him in his house, promising to visit as often as possible – which amounted to one, maybe two, two-day trips per year. Liam eventually found someone who is content being a “rock star’s wife.” They’re happy and I’m happy for them.

Banshee’s Keen finally went international. They released my song, “The Part That Fits,” in the U.S. about 6 months after I left. It was their first of many U.S. releases and is their biggest success to date. It still gets a lot of airplay almost 11 years later. Every time I hear it, I’m given a bittersweet reminder of the other one that got away.