The test of any relationship is whether someone will stick around when times get tough. Mark has middle-level Alzheimer’s. There are long periods of time he cannot account for. Often he can’t remember the names of everyday objects, or even of people. This is both unsettling and irritating. He spends a good deal of his time in a comfortable armchair by the window, looking out at the back yard. But there is a man in the house with him. Mark doesn’t feel threatened by his presence. Just perplexed. Who is he? What is he doing there? All Mark knows is that he is handsome and has the most beautiful blue eyes he has ever seen. There are moments when he thinks he remembers who the man is, but as time marches on and the disease ravages his brain, he becomes less and less sure. Perhaps it isn’t even a man.

Forgetting

I feel him rub the head of his cock over my arsehole, smearing it with his pre-cum. 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  of him, in sticky strings, all over my body.


Chapter 3