“No.”
“Holy sweet fucking Jesus!”
“My mother would disapprove of what you just said on so many levels.”
“Tough. She’s not here! You’ve never?”
“I’ve used…. I have….”
“You have a dildo?”
“Yes.”
“You’ve fucked yourself with a dildo?”
“Yes.”
“But never the real thing?”
“No.”
“Holy sweet fucking Jesus! I fucked a virgin?” I asked in utter disbelief. “I didn’t know they made virgins anymore!”
“There’s one less now.”
“I was your…. I’m your first,” I said, not as a question but as a statement.
“Yes. You were my first.”
Kyle looked like he was afraid I was going to laugh at him, to mock him. He apparently didn’t expect what I said. “I’m so grateful you decided to… to give me the honor, to share the moment with me. That’s awesome! Thank you! Was it okay? Did it make you feel good? Was it good? Did I hurt you? Was it what you expected? You should have told me! I would have been more gentle with you.”
“Slow down! One question at a time.” He moved forward the last few inches that separated the two of us, kissed me lightly. “Yes. It was awesome. No, it didn’t hurt. And no, it wasn’t good—it was abso-fucking-tively the best experience of my life! And it wasn’t what I expected—it was way more than what I expected. Because it was with you.”
We kissed again, this time more slowly, gently. Kyle ran his hand through my hair, then pulled me over and on top of him while he rolled onto his back. I put my head down on Kyle’s chest and was quiet for a moment.
“I can feel your heart.”
“Can you feel how happy it is?”
“Yes,” I said with a smile.
“Good.”
Chapter 10
WHEN we finally hauled ourselves out of bed and washed the lube off our bodies, it was lunchtime, so I took Kyle to a place I knew of around the corner.
“If I keep eating like this, I’m gonna get fat!” Kyle muttered between bites. “But what a way to go!”
“No problem. We’ll work off any calories you might pick up from the food.”
“How?” Kyle said before realizing that the man across from him (me) was staring at him with a positively lecherous look that would have scared a straight man.
“By fucking you to the moon and back three times a day.”
“I’m not sure my butt can take three times a day.”
“How can you tell unless we collect more data?” I teased.
“So we need to fuck like squirrels in the name of science? To push back the frontiers, stuff like that?”
“Rabid tree squirrels,” I corrected.
“Sorry. Right. Rabid tree squirrels. They get more frequent and more vigorous sex. Definitely rabid tree squirrels.”
Since it was an unseasonably warm fall day with sunshine and comfortable temperatures, after lunch I changed into some running shorts. Kyle was still wearing his scrubs, which actually worked well for running as long as he had his running shoes on, which he did. To work off a bit of lunch and to give some other muscles a workout, I led Kyle on one of my favorite running routes through the park. We worked up a good sweat together, vertically rather than horizontally this time.
After a couple of miles, we were both breathing hard.
“Enough!” Kyle said. “No more.”
“Agreed,” I responded, gasping for breath. We walked back to my apartment at a more leisurely pace.
“I don’t know what hurts more, my feet or my legs.”
“At least it’s not your butt.”
“Other than craving you inside it again, my butt is just fine.”
“We can arrange that,” I said with a smile.
“Good. Kind of counting on it.”
As the host, I let Kyle shower first. When he finished, he walked into the living room and lay down on the sofa. He wasn’t really paying attention when I came into the room—naked, of course. He noticed when he felt me pick up one of his ankles and lift it to my chest. I rubbed the large foot in a way that I hoped would make the poor things feel less sore and tired.
“Oh… my… goodness!”
“Good?”
“Beyond good!”
After about five minutes on the first foot, I moved to the other foot and gave it equal attention, massaging the muscles that had most recently had a workout. Slowly I worked my hands up Kyle’s ankle and calf, rubbing away the fatigue they had earned during the run. Then I returned to the other leg.
“You know, this would be easier if you were naked.”
“That would mean being naked in the living room.”
“Oh, sorry. I forgot. Cardinal Sin 42.”
“Forty-three, actually.”
“Right! Sorry.”
“You’re forgiven. Anyone who can do that with their hands has earned absolution in my book.”
“Sounds like you’ve got the good book, then.”
“Good one!”
I released my hold on Kyle’s feet so that I could climb on top of his long body as he lay on the couch. Since his hands were not otherwise engaged, Kyle brought them to rest on my ass and gently massaged what he personally considered to be a spectacular example of masculinity (hey, I’m telling the story here).
He was really enjoying the feel of my exquisite ass in his hands. Okay, I’m sure that’s what he was thinking. Well, maybe not the exquisite part, but that’s only because he hadn’t had enough time to really take in the work of art that was my ass. Kyle’s fingers worked deeper and deeper between the two muscles. When he noticed what he was doing, he jerked. “Sorry.”
“I’m not. You can put your hands on my ass anytime you want. Just one question: what would your mother think?”
“She wouldn’t be surprised. You are a Northeastern heathen, after all.”
“Oh really? She has no use for Northeasterners?”
“No. But I do.”
“You do?”
“Yes. I mean, where else could I put my hands at the moment?”
I did my best to give Kyle my version of an evil smile as I moved my hands down to lift Kyle’s shirt. “Are you perhaps ticklish?” I asked as I conducted an experiment.
Kyle jerked and laughed and yelled, “No!”
“I hear ‘no’ but I see ‘yes’!”
“Back! Back, you heathen!”
And Kyle proceeded to dump me unceremoniously onto the floor. I really had to remember this for some future time when I needed leverage—and to have a more firm footing. As I rose from the floor, I put one hand on my decidedly aroused penis. “If I go, so does my penis.”
“He can stay.”
“Sorry. We’re a package deal.”
“Damn! Foiled again.”
“It’s we Northerners, you know. We all take classes in how to lure you innocent, virginal Southerners into a life of ill repute. Smacking you around with our big ol’ hard dicks and stuff.”
“And stuff?”
“Sure. Stuff. Trust me. Your mother would probably rather think of ‘stuff’ than penises.”
“True. Why are you talking about my mother while you’re stroking your dick? Are you perhaps more twisted than I initially thought?”
“Probably, but not in that regard.”
“Good.”
The couch was comfortable but not big enough for two. “You thinking about taking a nap? If you come into the bedroom, we could both lie down together.”
“You just want to have your lust-filled, wanton way with me again, sir!”
“Hell yes! But not at the moment. A nap would be nice.”
“But you will fuck me again later, won’t you?”
“If you want it, I’ll make the ultimate sacrifice and do you again. I’m there for you, babe!”
“Good. I may be late to the game, but I think I may turn into a star player for the tea
m.”
“Good. I’m a good coach.”
As we napped, Kyle lay on his side, wrapped tightly behind me. For all of the sleeping around that I had done—no, it wasn’t sleeping around; I had fucked around—for all of the men that I had been with, it was rare for one to sleep over or for me to sleep over at some guy’s house. But that afternoon, with dappled sunlight coming through the bedroom window, as I lay wrapped in Kyle’s arms, listening to the man’s rhythmic sleep breathing, I thought that Kyle wasn’t the only one who had missed out on an important experience in life. I, too, in my own way, was late to the game.
While Kyle slept, there was an active and ongoing debate in my head about keeping my walls up to keep myself safe versus letting those walls down a little to let someone inside. As if sensing the debate raging in my head, Kyle hugged me a bit tighter for just a moment. Damn, I thought, and I had painted those walls such a nice color, too!
Chapter 11
THE next day was Saturday, so I was off work anyway. Even if I hadn’t been, I would have taken the day again without any hesitation. Kyle didn’t sleep as late on Saturday morning as he had on Friday morning, but he had certainly earned the right with the way we had fucked before going to sleep the previous night. Damn, but the man was enthusiastic about getting plowed by a hard dick. And I was only too happy to oblige. I was considerate, always willing to extend a hard dick to a horny man—and fuck him until he couldn’t see straight.
Saturday afternoon I introduced Kyle to an experience he had reportedly never had—I took him to a movie theater! In broad daylight! With people around! Watching! And lightning didn’t strike. No pitchfork-wielding demons appeared to wrestle his soul to the underworld. Still, he was a bit nervous until the movie started.
The task of taking someone to his first movie was a heavy responsibility. I had carefully considered the choices and had deliberately selected a very funny romantic comedy for the virgin’s deflowering. I was delighted to watch his reaction as he became totally captivated by the story, the photography, the acting, and the overall movie-in-a-movie-theater experience.
Afterward we took a long walk in the park. The day wasn’t as sunny or as warm as the previous day had been, but it was still pleasant—good walking weather, as my mother would say. And personally, I’d rather listen to my mother than the crazy nutcase Kyle had described as his mother. Talk about demons with pitchforks! That was all I could picture when I thought of Kyle’s mother. I kept picturing a demonic woman shoving her pointy pitchfork into her sweet son’s ass, making him dance like some marionette doll.
Despite how commonly people say we hate something or someone, I didn’t really hate anyone. I hadn’t been raised that way and just wasn’t a hater, but I thought that I might have to make an exception for that woman, even though she had given birth to the gorgeous man who sat across the table from me at the moment, laughing at some stupid thing I had said unintentionally. I hadn’t set out to make a joke—it had just happened. And I didn’t care, because whatever I had said let me see Kyle’s smile, listen to his laughter, and watch his eyes dance with delight. And those were all good things.
Without planning or discussion, Kyle again spent the night at my place, and again on Sunday, we spent the day together. Sunday was gray and overcast with drizzle off and on all day—a perfect early fall day for lying inside being lazy and reading the extra-thick Sunday New York Times, napping, and reading some more.
On Sunday evening we shared something that it turned out we both had a passion for—we watched 60 Minutes. It wasn’t really surprising. Both of us were news junkies and followed what was happening in the city, in our country, and in the world. We both fervently believed that you couldn’t live in a world without knowing about what was going on in that world.
That evening we went to bed early—really early. But there was no sleeping until later. I treated Kyle to one of my extra-special blow jobs, this time more slowly and deliberately, taking my time and taking the man repeatedly to the edge of ejaculation before bringing him back down to Earth for a few more minutes. The third time I felt Kyle getting close, I decided the poor man had suffered enough, and I gave my all to help him over the edge and into the Promised Land.
And my God, did the man ever thrash around when he came! At one point I was actually afraid that I was going to be thrown off the bed and go flying onto the floor. Somehow I managed to stay on the bed and to keep my mouth wrapped around Kyle’s dick until it started to shrink back to normal size.
It took Kyle a good five minutes to get his breathing back to normal, and ten minutes before his heart rate slowed down to under a hundred beats a minute. When able to move, he pulled me close and held me, kissed my head, and said, “Thank you.”
“You are very welcome. And from my perspective, thank you as well.”
“Why?”
“I got to suck your dick!”
“You like doing that?”
“Duh! Didn’t it show?”
“Yes, but I thought you were just doing that for me.”
“I wanted to make you feel good, sure—don’t get me wrong—but it felt pretty good on this side too.” I stroked Kyle’s chest and said, “Don’t worry, I’ll teach you all about feeling good and making someone else feel good at the same time.”
“You’ve done pretty well with that already.”
“Thank you. I hold an advanced degree in dick sucking.”
“I bet you aced your finals.”
“Now go to sleep,” I ordered. “I’d love to stay home with you again tomorrow, but I have a meeting that I couldn’t reschedule, so I have to go to work.”
“You’d stay home again if you could?”
“We really do have to work on your self-esteem, boy!” I joked. I pushed Kyle onto his back and climbed up on top of the man, holding his hands down on the bed. I looked down into his face and said, “Listen to me carefully. Are you listening?”
“Yes.”
“You, my friend, are an awesome man. Say it?”
“Say what?”
“Don’t make me tickle you,” I warned sternly, “because I will.”
“I believe you. What do you want me to say?”
“Say ‘I am an awesome man.’”
“That would be boastful.”
It only took one look to convey the message I wanted; apparently it worked.
“Okay, I am an awesome man.”
“There, was that so hard? Say it again.”
“What?”
“Say it again!” I ordered.
“I am an awesome man.”
“Again!”
“I am an awesome man.”
“Again.”
“I am an awesome man.”
“Again. And put some feeling into it this time!” I ordered, louder.
“I am an awesome man!”
Like a coach trying to pump up his players before sending them onto the field, I shouted, “There you go! And don’t you ever doubt that!”
“Yes, sir.”
“Oooohhh! ‘Sir’. I like it!”
“Oh shut up!” Kyle ordered as he flipped us over so that I was on the bottom. “And you’re pretty awesome yourself, mister.”
“Of course.”
“And not at all conceited, I see.”
“Hey! Have you met me?” I joked. “Do I act conceited? Shy, sometimes. Conceited, no.”
“No. Not so much.”
“Good. Now go to sleep. I have to go to work in the morning. And I promise you that it will not be easy to leave knowing that you’re in my bed.”
We were quiet for a moment as we settled down to sleep. After a few minutes, Kyle whispered, “Really?”
Equally quietly, I whispered back, “Really.”
Chapter 12
AS I had anticipated, the next morning it was difficult for me to get out of bed and head to work. Kyle was still sleeping as I left, so I wrote a quick note that I left on the inside of the apartment door.
When ca
n I see you again? Call me when you have a chance. Don’t work too hard this week. And please take care of yourself. And say ‘I am an awesome man’ at least ten times daily. Those are my orders. If you don’t, I’ll be forced to tickle you! J
That night, he told me that when he found my note a few hours after I’d left, he was overcome with a wave of overwhelming joy and excitement. He told me in very animated fashion that he hadn’t known such elation outside of his work environment in a long, long time.
As he described it to me, he had not expected it, he had not actively sought it out, and he had not even believed that he actually would find it. But he had found something that was wonderful. Feelings he had never allowed himself to fully experience had now been awakened, and he told me he was never going to let them go.
While I worked, Kyle collected himself emotionally, let himself out of my apartment, and made his way home to pick up his mail, go buy some groceries for the week, do some laundry, pay some bills, and take care of a few errands that he wouldn’t have time to do while working.
When he later told me about his day, I was touched by his description of trying to keep busy, but no matter how busy he kept himself, he couldn’t help but think about the weekend. It had only been eight hours, but he already missed me as much as I missed him. While I didn’t fully agree with his choice of words, he told me that he missed the pushy, arrogant man—the man who had pushed him out of his tiny world into the real world. The man who had pushed him to grow up, to start thinking for himself, the man who had simultaneously pushed him and pulled him. (Hey, aren’t I awesome too?)
AT SIX o’clock, my phone rang. I was home from work, but only just. I answered on the first ring and immediately said, “Kyle?”
“I’m here,” I heard his now familiar voice say.
“I missed you today,” I confessed.
“You weren’t tired of me?”
“Do I need to tickle you?” I threatened.
“You don’t know where I live,” Kyle taunted playfully.
“I can find it,” I threatened. “I can stalk you and wait for you to go to work and pounce when you least expect it.”
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