by Lily Velden
My body knew what it wanted.
It wanted Robert Callinan.
I hid, not because I was frightened of what Robert Callinan would do to me, but rather what I, Noah Daniels, wanted him to do to me… and what I, in return, wanted to do to him.
8
“I KNEW you’d be back.”
I hung my head in defeat. I’d managed to stay away in person, if not in my mind, for a month, but finally, my need to explore my sexuality had gotten the better of me. The old saying about the spirit being willing but the flesh weak obviously held true for me, though my spirit seemed to be getting a little less willing to deny my body its desires with each passing day.
“Hey, none of that, blondie. There’s nothing to be ashamed of,” said my seducer from my previous visit softly, placing his forefinger under my chin and lifting it until my gaze met his.
I trembled at his touch, remembering his hands on my dick and how expertly he’d brought me to a deep, satiating orgasm. He smiled at me, and I tentatively smiled back.
“That’s better, cutie. Did you know that homosexuality exists in more than fifteen hundred animal species?” I shook my head. “Well, it does. Lions, dogs, chimps, hell, even among dolphins. And you don’t see any prejudice in their worlds. The only species where you find discrimination is in the two-legged, supposedly more intelligent variety. I prefer to think of people like that as the lesser evolved of our species.”
I laughed. “I’ll have to remember that.”
“Ah, he speaks!”
I blushed at his teasing, heat creeping up my neck to settle in my cheeks. He smiled at me, looking as sexy as hell. God, his manner reminded me of Robert.
“Fancy joining me in the spa?”
“Okay.”
With a wink, he turned and began to walk away, obviously confident I would follow. His confidence wasn’t misplaced.
Excitement coiled in my belly. I wondered if he would touch me again. My cock twitched at the thought—my brain might be of two minds as to whether it wanted to go down that particular path, but my dick had no hesitation. No hesitation whatsoever. In fact, had my cock been capable, it would have been out there with a machete carving the path.
With a pounding heart, I watched as he shed his towel, and I got to see for the first time the cock that had rubbed its way to a climax between my thighs on my previous visit. He was of similar size to me, perhaps a fraction longer and thicker, but certainly not intimidatingly large, like the penises in the porn flicks playing on the bank of screens high above, on the wall behind him.
Blood zinged through my veins in a mixture of fear and excitement. At his raised eyebrow, I removed my towel and tossed it on top of his. His gaze dropped to my groin, and he smiled, clearly pleased to see my arousal. Slowly, oh so slowly, he moved his hand to his cock, giving it a few leisurely strokes, his smile deepening at the way my dick responded to the sight by twitching.
I swallowed, my breath already a little uneven. As much as I wanted him to touch me again, I wanted to take him in hand more. I wanted to know what another man’s penis felt like in my palm. I wanted to curl my fingers around it and know its weight, its heat, the texture of his skin. And I really, really wanted to pull back his foreskin to reveal the rosy treasure it hid.
With a lazy smile, he let go of his dick and reached for mine, giving it a squeeze. “Come on, beautiful. Let’s get wet.”
The heat of the bubbling water made me sigh with pleasure, the last of my nerves and tension seeping from my limbs. The water level wasn’t as high as I expected, only lapping at my waist rather than reaching my shoulders. I slid down a little to immerse myself and leaned my head back, closing my eyes.
“No, no, no, sweetcheeks, don’t go getting too relaxed. I like a little tension in my men!”
His words elicited a quiver in the base of my belly.
“Come here.”
I hesitated, not knowing what he meant. We were, after all, seated side by side.
He chuckled at my uncertainty, but somehow, I didn’t mind him laughing at me.
“Cutie, I’m going to enjoy showing you the wonders of cock.”
As he spoke, he gently but firmly maneuvered me into straddling his thighs, our dicks bobbing in the water against each other, mine occasionally breaking the surface. The sensation of the cooler air on my wet rod made me shiver. Predictably, my heart took off at a thunderous pace in anticipation of what I was about to experience.
“Remember what I told you about men and their cocks?” he asked, taking us both in hand.
I gasped and nodded.
“Tell me.” He maintained his grip as he slid his fingers up our lengths.
“Friction,” I breathed.
“And?”
“Tight balls….”
“And?”
“Oh God,” I groaned as he increased his pace, my concentration shot to pieces.
“Let me remind you,” he whispered, while I moaned in protest at him releasing my cock.
He moved his hands to my ass, urging me to rise up on my knees. The tiles felt hard, but I didn’t care. He stretched his arm out to the side and grabbed a condom, and for the first time, I noticed figure-eight-shaped bowls placed around the edge of the spa approximately every six feet. It suddenly occurred to me the reason for the lower level of the water—it was set to accommodate sucking and fucking. My God, the owners have thought of everything.
I looked down at him, my blood a raging river in my veins as he clothed my eager hard-on in the thinnest sheath of latex I’d ever seen. He slid lower in the water, his gaze on my dick as he leisurely swiped his tongue over his lips before reaching out to flick the tip of my penis.
“Refresh your memory, sunshine?”
Before I could reply his mouth was on me, drawing me in, and I was arching my back and clinging to his shoulders as if my life depended on it, gasping my answer. “Wet, hot… tight holes!”
He sucked me in and blew me over like a tropical storm. Over the years, I’d had a few blow jobs, but none were like this. He sucked harder, did things with his tongue… and hummed. He fucking hummed. My dick vibrated in ecstasy. But those weren’t the things that made the difference. It was his enthusiasm. It was the way he obviously loved what he was doing. He worshiped my cock. And I… I felt like a god. Came like one too, or at least like a fountain statue of one.
My stranger allowed me to slip from the seductive heat of his mouth.
“You going to do a runner again, pretty boy?” he asked as he casually removed the filled condom from my still-semihard cock.
I shook my head, watching as he expertly tied the end off before extending his arm and placing it on the ledge of the spa.
Bit by bit, my breathing resumed a normal pattern and my heart slowed, but I remained kneeling over him. My body, it seemed, was still frozen in shock.
“Fancy returning the favor?”
I glanced around, aware for the first time that three other couples had since joined us. Two were too busy doing their own thing to be watching anyone, but the third had obviously been using us for visual stimulation. Their hands were beneath the water, busy in each other’s laps, their stares riveted on us.
“Don’t worry about them. Just focus on me,” my stranger said to me, picking up on my sudden shyness.
“I’ve… I’ve never…,” I began.
“I figured as much, sweetcheeks. No time like the present to learn. You up for it? Junior certainly is,” he said with a chuckle, pulling himself out of the water to sit on the ledge, his erection tapping my chin on the way up.
Junior certainly was up for it. His head, flushed to a deep rosy red, had pushed itself clear of the foreskin and was weeping precum down the glans. As if hypnotized, I leaned down, parting my lips, ready to have my first taste of a man. My desire both confused and frightened me. To say I felt conflicted was putting it mildly.
“Whoa, beautiful! As much as I’d love to have you suck me off raw, bathhouse rules apply! Condom!”
I looked up into his laughing face, blushing furiously. I could hear the whisper-soft crackling sound of him waving the foiled condom packet between his fingertips. Shaking like a leaf, I took it from him, and using my teeth, tore it open. With unsteady hands, I unfurled it down his length, my heart once again picking up its pace like a steam train leaving the station.
I had another man’s cock in my hands.
It felt hot.
It felt hard.
And yet, contrarily, so silky soft.
Taking a deep breath, I leaned in again and placed a chaste kiss on its tip.
“That’s sweet, cutie, but I need you to suck me. Just do to me what you like done to you. Trust me, one or two licks and sucks, and you’ll have the hang of it in no time.”
I pursed my lips, pressing them hard against the crown of his penis, and then I pushed, making his dick force its way between the closed circle of my lips. Millimeter by millimeter, I made him fill my mouth, never allowing his swollen dick to break the vacuumlike seal I had on his cock.
“Oh, blondie! Yeah, fuck, yeah.”
Gaining confidence, I continued slowly moving his cock deeper into the recess of my mouth, feeling it brush over the roof on its way to my throat. Tears spontaneously sprouted in the corners of my eyes when my gag reflex kicked in, but my stranger didn’t seem to mind my throat convulsing on his dick, if his string of expletives were any indication. I pulled back, using my tongue as he had, before trying again. Again, my throat closed in an effort to expel him. Up and down, I bobbed, using my hands to try and alter the angle of penetration in order to be able to swallow him whole the way he had me. It was to no avail. Each time I’d reach a certain point and my throat would clamp shut in protest, filling my eyes with tears that spilled over and coursed down my cheeks. In the end, I admitted defeat and contented myself with licking and sucking what I could, and using my hands to stimulate the rest of his cock and balls.
Once I let go of my determination to deep-throat him, I realized I liked it. I liked the feel of his engorged dick in my mouth. I liked the feel of the spongy head against my inner cheeks, against the roof, and on my tongue. I liked his heat in my heat. I liked the way he twitched and swelled and throbbed.
And then he came with his fingers knotting in my hair and guttural curses spilling from his lips.
And I liked that too.
I liked it very much.
“Jesus Christ, blondie! Not bad, not bad at all,” he half croaked, half laughed as he removed the used condom and placed it with our other discarded one. “You have the softest fucking mouth. You can practice on me anytime.”
Exhausted but happy, I swiveled away from him and slid down into the water. My stranger did the same, and we both reclined with our heads against the ledge, recovering from our exertions. I felt inordinately proud of myself and sated in a way I hadn’t in a long time. A man had sucked my dick. And I’d returned the favor. I’d sucked a cock. I’d really sucked a cock. I could scarcely believe it. The realization was surreal.
A drip of cool water on my face jolted me into opening my eyes. One of the guys who’d been watching earlier was towering over us, looking down at me, his gaze hungry. Immediately, my cheeks flooded with heat, awareness of my actions hitting me hard and knocking the breath from me. My God, I’d sucked, and been sucked off, in front of six other men. Never in a million years would I have thought myself capable of doing such a thing.
“Come find me when you’re ready for round two.”
He walked off, and it was only when my stranger started to laugh that I turned to him and realized my jaw was hanging open in surprise. This world, the bathhouse world, was so alien to me, and despite having now participated in it twice, I was still shocked. The guy had spoken so casually. You’d have thought he was talking about the weather instead of arranging to get his dick sucked.
“Oh, blondie, your face is priceless. Have you already forgotten what I told you?” I looked at him dumbly, and he grinned while shaking his head at me. “It’s all about the next ejaculation. We all want to come as hard and often as we can. Spread the seed. That’s the way nature programmed us. Forget your heart, sunshine. That’s all bullshit and fairy tales. Good ole fucking is where it’s at. Love is complicated. Sex is simple. Love is one big, fat lie. Fucking is honest. That’s all you need to remember.”
LATER, WHEN I slotted in a DVD and watched Robert lean over a guy, bending at the waist with his legs slightly parted, I choked on my breath. It was seeing his tight hairless balls that got to me. Thank God I was seated on the edge of the bed, because had I been standing, the weakness in my knees at the sight would have made me topple over. I’d seen this particular movie twice before—it was one of my favorites—and it affected me the same way each time.
It was the intimacy of the face-to-face lovemaking. And if I was honest, it was because the man receiving Robert’s skilled attentions was similar in looks to me.
An image of myself, reaching between Robert’s thighs to cup his balls in my palm and knead them, filled my mind. I closed my eyes, inhaling deeply. I could almost feel their heat and the crushed-velvet texture of the skin encasing them. Their weight, I was certain, would feel glorious in my hand. Arousal coursed like liquid fire in my veins, pooling in my groin.
I wanted to turn him around to face me. I wanted to drop to my knees and suck his cock like I’d so recently learned to do. But I wanted him raw—I wanted to know what he tasted like. I wanted to be able to slide my tongue into his foreskin to lave the engorged head of his dick.
Instead, I watched while he prepared his partner, my breath catching when I heard the soft squelch of his heavily lubed fingers as he used them to open the ass proffered before him.
Watching him clothe his dick in latex before he sheathed it in the rosebud he’d so expertly loosened made my own sphincter flutter in want. I panted as inch by inch his cock disappeared—fuck, his dick deserved an Oscar, or seeing as he was a Brit, perhaps the English equivalent, a BAFTA award. If it were up to me, he’d get a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame. His cock was definitely a star. His heart and lungs were merely its life-support system, his nerves its communication system, and the apex of his thighs its home address. Though I wouldn’t mind if he called my ass his home away from home.
Slowly, sensually, he worked his magic, taking his partner to the pinnacle of pleasure before tipping them both over the edge into a memorable orgasm.
As they came, so did I, calling Robert’s name in the same bliss-soaked voice as his on-screen lover.
9
ONLY TWO weeks of the spring semester remained. I could scarcely believe it was already May. The months had just flown by.
There was no denying a thing or two. Namely, despite missing my family, I didn’t want to go back to Chicago yet. I wasn’t ready yet to face Mitch. I liked the anonymity of London and being able to explore my sexuality without fear of discovery. If only I could stay in England for a few more months.
Between my body’s responses to Robert and his movies and my now regular visits to the bathhouse, and all the things that both of those entailed, it was pointless debating my sexuality. I liked cock. I liked to jerk it. I liked to suck it. And I liked to watch it shoot. I liked the feel of it in my hand and in my mouth. And, needless to say, I liked it when a man reciprocated.
I had yet to take the final step and engage in anal sex—either the giving or receiving of it—but I knew, deep down, it was only a matter of time. Secretly, in a place I barely allowed myself to acknowledge, I longed to cross that final threshold with Robert. Whether my hope was realistic or not scarcely mattered—I had no control over what I dreamed. I’d Skyped with him on almost a daily basis and watched his movies again and again, still as obsessed with them as I’d been that very first night. My getting to know Robert the person had only amplified my fascination. His body, his voice as he whispered to his lovers, his humor and wit. It was his intelligence, the way he moved, and those forever-puckered lips.
It was everything—his skilled hands… the way he worshiped his partners, their obvious pleasure, and perhaps most of all, the look of searching and not finding that I saw flash in his big brown eyes…. All this continued to haunt me.
I knew my unspoken wish was what had held me back from taking the plunge and offering up my last cherry to my bathhouse stranger. The closest we’d come was him fingering me as he blew me. Despite his regular lectures on men and sex, part of me still clung to my romantic beliefs and rebelled against the idea of crossing that final frontier with someone whose name I didn’t even know. To him, I was predominantly sweetcheeks, sunshine, or blondie. To me, he was stud or handsome. Part of me couldn’t let go of the notion of wanting to know the name of the person who was entering and filling my body.
Still, I had a lot to thank him for. It was largely due to him I’d finally come to terms with it all—I was either bi or gay, but if I was bi, then the scales definitely tipped on the side of preferring men.
Despite finally being at peace with that knowledge, I wasn’t yet ready to share it with my brother and sister-in-law. I needed more time. When I faced them, I wanted to have the sureness, the calm, the “take me as I am or be damned” attitude of Robert and my bathhouse stranger. My gut told me Mitch would not take my news well, and if I was going to handle the situation with grace and dignity, I would need every ounce of confidence I could lay my hands on. If he could see I was solid, at ease… that I had no shame in admitting my preferences, perhaps it would help him accept the new me.
My half-formed wants came to a head, funnily enough, during a Skype session with Robert.
Robert Callinan: 6.03pm
Hey, Noah, how’s life in ye olde England?
Noah Daniels: 6.03pm
Good. The weather has been great, makes me wish I didn’t have to return to the Windy City quite so soon. Shame I didn’t get to explore the continent too while I was here.
Robert Callinan: 6.04pm