I was bored, I was young, I was disillusioned. Just trying to make my way through a world I didn't understand or trust. I owned nothing.
Casually walking home from, technically, my first real job, after closing at night, disinterested but trying my best, flipping burgers for hours on end. The unlit, two lane road is actually a small state highway, curving and winding its way across the landscape, connecting various cities like a human vein. This town acts like a heart beat, six months long, thirty thousand strong, when school is in session. Ten thousand when they all disperse.
As I remember that day, where once that road ran for a good fifteen forested miles, those friendly comforting woods are all gone now.
That's where he picked me up. Where the city ended and the trees began. The last intersection where the buildings stopped on one side of the street and the other side, the wilderness.
He looked to be in his early twenties. Offered me a ride. I just wanted to go home. Sleep off all my dirty angst, unbathed depression, and societal pressures. Where I stayed, apartment was on the edge of town. Cheapest you could get at the time. The new big interstate highway was inching its progress across everybody's backyard. The yellow-rust forest killers, chomping their way over the earth like flesh eating maggots. Carving another blank line that will fill in with more human detritus, invasive species and horseless carriage parts.
I've had a few sexual experiences by now. None of them made me want more in the same place. None of them good enough to snag my line, to pull back on the pole with the force needed to sink the hook. Nothing good enough for me to say, mine.
The small white, two door sedan whined and clicked and chugged. The driver looked at me, his dark middle eastern complexion so silky smooth in the back lit roadway. His dark wavy hair absorbing the leftover light. He was kind and insistent. He wanted to take me home. “come home with me. I'll take you back afterward.” his accented vocabulary carrying the full weight of sex without uttering even one syllable of what he was obviously aching for. Though he was calm and resolute. Poker face. His white shirt loose and open at the neck, letting in the warm humid air that was circulating, blanketing this place. I stepped in, the cinderella pumpkin, more ways than one.
The tidy neglected automobile and young needy man taking me toward where I didn't want to go, but still couldn't find a way to steer clear. “please come home with me, I'll take you where you want to go afterwards.” his face more animated this time, I noticed his dark green eyes. His body language excited that he could see I was considering it, or at least that I didn't say no, that I did get in the car which could represent a kind of assent. The tide of youth pulling me forward like a human undertow. Caught up in the moment of something, anything, so that I'm engaged presently and there is a happening I'm involved in. I, also, immersed in a longing of acceptance, friendship, a place to be, anything I could grab hold of that could give me that moment of rocking chair comfort.
Or technicolor rave. A place to step off and stand and be swept up in the ecstasy of being.
I knew what he wanted. Even never having experienced anything like this before, I could feel the pull of mutual urgency and weakness. Without ever having read about it, my ancient DNA dangled the spiraling secret, so long suppressed and beaten. However weakened, the light in me though almost extinguished by religious demagogues, still flickered in the wind of yearning. The banked coal of curiosity toward tomorrow I keep tracking like an animal wounded. I nodded my head, uttering not a word, neither saying no, not saying yes, but physically giving the indication of consent, complicity. I looked down into my lap, and then out into the thick woods we were passing. I stepped toward another experience, like walking the plank. So lonely for an accepting company, I choose the unknown.
Not long at all and we arrive through a short gravel driveway. The woods almost touching, clawing the road as if to take it back, devour it, hide it. The trees forming a kind of deistic, hallowed archway which I must pass through. A gateway to the inner something I still seek.
His body exits the car lively, fluidly. I wonder, 'how can he move so smoothly'? he looks at me once, twists his head toward the one room mill-house, and says, “let's go in.” his smile happy, genuine, his eyes sleepy with some holy grail thing I crave to possess. I nod my head a few times in very short movements, sparsely acknowledging my understanding as we amble toward his castle.
He unlocks the door so deftly. I hesitate, we walk in. the screen door clacks shut. There is only the single bed or the floor to sit. Everything is neat and tidy. The kitchen in one corner, an end table and lamp in another, the bed, the door that leads to the bathroom. That's it. He lifts his arm in a motion that indicates I can sit on the plain covered mattress. I do carefully. He happily switches the overhead light. It's turned off in exchange for the mellower table lamp.
I watch as he easily removes his clothes. He's uncomplicatedly naked. His penis is also the same shade of skin his whole body is colored. The erection is wide and thick in the middle. Tapering at both ends. It bounces as he moves eagerly toward me. I slide back toward the wall where paisley sheers cover the only window, the night peeking in. I've only taken off my shoes. He knows what he wants and lays his body 69 to mine.
I curl my fingers around the shaft for steadiness. I guide his thick cock into my mouth. The fingers grasp behind the dark purple head. My lips wet him with saliva. His hips rotate like a well oiled machine. Slow and steady. It's too big to fit it all the way in. And then I feel a different tempo. Slightly faster, his free hand grabs my jeans belt and holds on. His forehead on my legs.
In a few shortened strokes, It doesn't take long. I taste nothing. I smell nothing. I feel nothing, except then… I hear his moans of pleasure. I feel his body taut and released from man's untamable need. He shivers. He trembles. Orgasm. The flexing of his organ, one, pause, two, a slightly longer pause, three, the after shock. Angel lust lightly scented with chlorine and earth.
Relentless, this blinking light. Satisfaction is. My hand a broom that temporarily brushes aside.
His apparatus, appliance, equipment, method, tool, organs, have percolated. He gently lets go of my jeans, relaxes. When he rolls backwards, he falls off the bed and lay in the floor. Breathing. I wait a second. I lean over to see. We laugh.
Propping himself up on his arms, he gets up out of the floor and navigates to please me. I'm not interested. I'm disinterested. I'm not turned on by this. I like girls, females, women, I shake my head no. I look him in the eye. This was very interesting. And I'm glad I could bring a moment of joy to your evening, but I want pussy and you don't have one.
He slowly pulls his hand away, not disgusted or angry or sad, but I can tell he knows. He reins himself up, saunters to the small round fridge that stands duty against the porcelain kitchen sink. His muscles slinking under his skin in the dimness. He drifts across the small room, still naked, his sticky cock swinging side to side, and brings me an unopened beer. I don't want it but he was kind enough to get it and bring it to me. I remember that small gesture and I do it, I mean to say, at least, when I'm finished, I offer.
I pull the ring tab on the cold can and it pops. I gulp long and hard, the fizz almost chokes. My eyes water, my nose tingles, I feel cleansed. I let out a long sigh, and the burp rolls out after.
The ring tab and its dangerously sharp tongue is on my finger now. I absently minded fiddle with it, making it circle my finger, around and around and around. He is leaning right shoulder against the wall, legs crossed at the ankle, arms crossed, his penis still somewhat engorged, jumping ever so slightly with each heartbeat, gradually shrinking. The cremasteric reflex involuntarily moving his testicles around. His chest ever expanding and deflating. His hairlessness intrigues me. I look him over as no friend I ever knew would allow me. I finish my beer in a second toast. I crush the tin in my hand as I've been taught by bonfire captains. A tiny hint of something I needed to bring out. I did not let go of it for a long time. He placed his on the table. Slipped on his jeans, the skinny dark red belt tinkling lightly. The loose white shirt, still not buttoned up all the way. The espadrilles glide on to his dusty feet.
He let me go. Threw me back. Catch and release.
He picked up the car keys, the jingle loudly disturbing the night. Like a bell tone that ends a meditation.
Casually, we walked to his car. He took me to where I stayed, with my few and beleaguered belongings. To a room I shared with one other person. Separate beds. Separate lives. I guided him there. Never looking at his face. We pulled up to the row of apartments, they like soldiers all standing guard against some ridiculous unknown foe. I peered at his face one time, held out my hand flat, he put his in mine and I did not move, I did not shake it, I looked in his eyes for about three seconds. And I turned to open the door. No words teleported, volumes conveyed.
Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/3oom49/that_night_mm_gay_oral
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