by Seth King
“That’s right – just let it ride,” he smiles. “Don’t think too much.”
“I won’t. Can I touch you now?”
He inhales. “I thought you’d never ask…”
I want to slow myself, but I can’t stop. I want to know what he feels like, so I rest a finger on his pectoral. It’s soft and hard at the same time, and I love it immediately. He stops breathing as I dance around on his skin, getting used to him. I feel his nipple ring, the cold metal against his warm body. All of it is revolutionary.
“Can you take off your shirt, too?” he asks, and I take a breath.
“Sure.”
Ever-so-slowly I remove my shirt, and I close my eyes when I’m done – I’ve never had a guy’s gaze on me in this way.
“Wow,” he breathes. “You’re perfect. Can I touch your chest hair?”
I swallow. “What little I have of it, yeah.”
My dick gets harder than a boulder as he reaches over and nuzzles my patch of chest hair between my nipples.
“Fuck. And your pants?” Reluctantly I start taking off my khakis, my mind spinning with fear and insecurity and glee. “…And your boxers?”
Cringing, I slide out of my boxer-briefs. I am now naked, on a bed, with a dude.
“Jesus,” he says.
“What?”
“Real talk: your dick is huge.”
“Is that…bad?”
“I mean, it might hurt the first time, but I’ll get over it,” he gulps. “I will enjoy getting over it, actually. Wow.”
We just sit against my headboard for a minute as I try to acclimate myself to the naked guy in front of my face. I try not to stare at his cock, and I fail. It’s just so…attractive. My skin is heated, my heart is erratic and alive, and my dick...well…you know.
“I’m gonna lose it,” I say. “Can we jack off? Just to ease myself into this?”
“I wanted you to ease yourself into me, but sure. I get it.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah. Jack away.”
He puts his leg over mine, sending me into a free-for-all. To see our dicks next to each other like this…it’s nearly too much. But I take myself into my hand and start rubbing, using my pre-moisture as a lubricant, and he does the same…
Liftoff. Our bodies come together and roll and rock against each other, and somehow I can just feel the sheer male-ness of him – his energy is so different from a female, I can’t even wrap my head around it. It’s just so erotic to be doing this with a pair of eyes on me – a pair of male eyes. I don’t even have to look at his face to know he’s watching me – I can just feel the burn of his gaze. We rub faster and faster and my skin is delectable against his and soon we’re careening over the edge together, both quietly crying out at the same time. I extend my hips, my body going pin-straight, as we clasp hands. Then: we blow together. He actually shoots a little into my mouth, probably two or three feet into the air, and he blushes, clearly mortified. As our bodies twitch and fall back and finally go still, he reaches over.
“God, here, let me get that-”
I swat him away and swallow. It tastes odd, and salty, but not altogether bad. Just…different. New.
“Okay, whoa,” he says. “I might come again, just from that. Shit.”
“Nah,” I say, my voice suddenly scratchy, “let’s save something for next time.”
He rubs a finger up my bicep, making butterflies take flight inside me. “So…how did that feel? Your first time with a guy?”
“Different,” I nod. “New. Unexpected. But…phenomenal.”
“Yeah, I…” suddenly he frowns and reaches for his phone, then sits straight up. “Wait, speaking of time – fuck!”
“What?”
“It’s eleven-thirty!”
“…And?”
“Sorry, I never told you.” He clutches his forehead. “My building is owned by the school, and they lock the doors at eleven. Usually I can get in, but the RA is out of town. Ridiculous, I know, but you know how SCAD is…”
“Oh,” I say, realizing what this means. “Oh.”
“What do I do?”
“I guess…you sleep here.”
“Um. Is that okay?”
I don’t make the decision. His eyes make the decision for me. They make me realize I don’t want him to leave yet. “Yeah. Of course. I actually hate sleeping alone. Or I do lately, at least. You’re fine.”
We take a minute to get ready for bed. He seems like he feels bad, but I don’t make a big deal out of it. I’m happy for the company, anyway. I do put my three-foot-long body pillow between us, though, just in case. “Sorry, I have to wrap my legs around this thing to sleep.”
“No issue. I get it.”
“So when do you have to wake up?”
“Eight. You?”
“Around the same time. Perfect.”
“And Henry?”
“Yeah?”
A silence lingers between us as I turn off my light. Even in the darkness, I am being sucked closer to him like he is a black hole and I am a moon. “I promise this wasn’t planned. The sleepover, I mean.”
I turn and smirk into the blackness. “Ty?”
“Mhm?”
“I wouldn’t have been mad if it was.”
4
I fall asleep surprisingly quickly, as just the comfort of knowing someone is with me makes me feel all kinds of safe and content. My dreams are full of blonde hair and greyish tattoos and blue eyes again, but this time, I am able to walk through that open door and into the light.
Speaking of the light: the sun doesn’t wake me the next morning. Ty’s leg does. I open my eyes and feel them expand, because to my horror, I’ve tossed the pillow on the floor in my sleep, and Ty is now wrapped around me. I freeze, unsure of how to proceed with this.
But it’s too late – I’ve woken him.
“Fuck,” he sighs, staring at me. I can’t lie – without the effect of the alcohol, it’s more difficult, and more awkward, to be with him. I feel like I’m already losing all the progress I’d made last night.
“What?”
“I forgot how good you look.”
“How good is good?” I smile.
“Perfect.”
And that does it – I lean in, despite myself, and suddenly we are kissing again. Then we start rubbing and moaning and touching until we are naked again, and it becomes clear where this is going – even if I still can’t totally believe it’s happening. I’m barely awake and yet here we are, all over each other.
“Wait. I don’t know what to do next,” I say.
“Sit on my face,” he spits out, looking down at my chest.
“What?”
“You have the hottest body I’ve ever seen and I want you to sit on my face.”
I look away.
“What’s wrong?”
“I just…I don’t know how to do that.”
“What? Hasn’t a girlfriend ever sat on your face before?”
I laugh.
“What?” he asks again.
“Um. Straight people don’t have hot sex. They get drunk and paw around and then fall asleep. Everyone knows that.”
His eyes are shining, wicked, up to no good at all. “You’ve got a lot to learn, then. Sit on my face. Here, I’ll direct you.”
He grips me and pulls. Self-consciously, I reach my leg over his chest and climb up on him, facing forward. I scoot up his chest until my balls are on his chin. He just smiles up at me, licking me lightly. I blush and look away as I get even harder. To see him down there is the most explosive thing I have ever experienced.
“What is it?” I ask.
“I just like you already, and I’m happy we’re doing this.”
“Me, too,” I smile as I try to suppress the blush I feel on my cheeks. “Now shut up and lick my balls! You’re being too cute – you’re supposed to save some cuteness for down the line.”
“Yes, sir.”
He reaches up and starts massaging my nipp
les. Just his touch alone sets off fireworks in my soul and makes me glow. I don’t want to look down at what he does next, but I do: I hear myself moan as he stares up at me, his eyes glowing, as he starts licking from my inner legs over to my dick. He just teases me for a minute, and I can barely keep my eyes open because it feels so good. Then he finally takes me into his mouth, and the stubble is such an added perk that it sends tingles all over my body. It feels a hundred times, a thousand times, better than anything a girl has ever done before. It’s like he knows what my body wants more than I do. And he has the same body as me, so maybe he does know…
For a few minutes he tortures me, taking my dick into his mouth and then turning his head so he can just rest it against his cheek. It feels like heaven. Sometimes he lays it across his face so he can play with my balls, and that nearly makes me finish off every time. When I finally do blow, unable to control it, I do it all over his face, and he seems to love it so much, it makes my orgasm last even longer.
“Fuuuuck,” I breathe when we’re done. “That was so much better than anything any girl has ever done to me before. That thing you did with the suction…Jesus, what is your magic?”
He just smirks. As he pulls on his clothes a few minutes later, I stop him twice to kiss him – I’m not done with him yet, and it’s like the kisses get better with every try. He’s so different from a girl, but not in a bad way – in a new and fun and exciting way. I consider asking him to have breakfast, but probably fifty people live in view of my stoop, so he should probably just go before it gets any later. He might not even want to, anyway, and just the idea of getting turned down makes me lightly panic.
“So what now?” he asks at my front door. It makes me feel empty and lost to think I might not see him again for a while.
What now? I’d just invited a guy into my bed, and then slept with him, and sat on his face, too. I have no idea how to put one foot in front of the other, much less make any decisions.
“Now…we go on with our day,” I say, “and try to think about anything except how hot that was.”
“No promises. Text me?” he asks, looking into my eyes and scattering everything between my ears.
“You know I will.”
He smiles. “God, that was so fun.”
“I know. And you know what I just decided?”
“What?”
“Every straight guy should try this at least once. They are missing the hell out, if you ask me.”
He kisses me on the nose and walks out before I can drag him upstairs again.
After he’s gone, I shower and stretch out on my bed and just smile up at my ceiling fan as the morning light intensifies. I thought I would feel dirty and guilty and gross after this, but I don’t. If anything I feel like I just won a race I didn’t even know I’d entered. Everything feels new and exciting, and nothing feels bad. I can’t focus, I can’t function, I can’t think – not about anything other than Ty, at least, and what we just did. I think of his pool-blue eyes, his inked arms, his cool clothes, his low voice, his electrified smile, his swoopy blonde hair, the way he made me feel like it was washed clean and struck by lightning in the same rainstorm. Two days ago I’d never been interested in another guy in my life, and now Ty Stanton is becoming the light in my eyes. But I’m not going to question it – I am going to give myself to this joy, wherever it leads me.
Before I step into the shower, a text makes my phone ping: Two things: I had the time of my life with you. Also: if you think I’m not going to use your contacts to meet Lady Gaga one day, you’re fucking nuts.
A smile that is too big for my face cracks my lips in half. A disco ball is exploding around me, and I am getting lost in the lights.
5
After suffering through my first class, my best friend Thad Jaffey texts me, wanting to get coffee. I grow more and more nervous as I approach the Starbucks on Broughton. Everything with Ty flashes through my mind in a strange, distant, hazy montage, and sometimes I wonder if it even happened. But the messages on my phone are real, along with the one I just got saying I kinda like you. Okay, not kinda like you, I definitely like you. But I don’t respond, even if it makes me giddy to read. I need time to adjust. I don’t feel bad about what we did, but still: it makes no sense, and besides, Thad is as straight as can be. How will I ever approach this subject with him?
He keeps wanting to talk about the latest Georgia football game, but I fend off the conversation. The first thing he does after we get our coffees and sit down is look over at me like my clothes are on fire.
“Dude,” he asks incredulously. “Do you have a hickey? I haven’t gotten one of those since we were in Mrs. Koch’s sixth grade homeroom class together.”
I try not to let the horror show on my face as I take out my phone and stare at the reflection of the violet marks blooming north of my collarbone. How the fuck did I let him do that? I didn’t even let girls do that…
“Seriously, what’s the deal?” he asks with a wink. “Did you hang out with Caro again? Go back to the old ex, eh?”
I look away. I don’t want to talk about her at all for some reason. “Nope,” I say as I slide my phone away again. “I got…a shot. On my neck.”
“Um. Okay.”
He’s still looking at me.
“What?”
“Nothing at all. Anyway, what’s new?”
We talk about our assignments for a second, but I’m distracted. “Hey,” I interrupt as he’s ranting about Professor Kurtz. “Got a question for you.”
“Yeah?”
I can’t believe I’m asking him this, but I feel more comfortable around him than anyone. The fact that he’s extremely tolerant also helps a little. “Well…have you ever…I know you have a girlfriend. But have you ever looked at a guy, instead of a girl?”
He leans back. He doesn’t look suspicious, just confused. “Nah. Don’t think so. Why?”
“I don’t know, I’m doing…a project, for Dr. Darcy’s class, and I’m supposed to study mating habits. It seems like everybody’s got a story from summer camp or whatever, and so I was curious…”
He bites his lip. “Well.”
“What?”
“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but remember Walker DeVry, that kid from our science class in middle school?”
I nod.
“I don’t really know why, but we used to sleep in my bed together when he’d stay the night. We never did anything, but yeah…he always just slept with me.” He shakes his head. “But no, nothing against gays, but you know I’ve always been straight. Is this because of-”
“Because of what?”
He glances over my shoulder, then plays with his cuticle. “Nothing, it’s just…did I see you outside your house with that one kid? The one who had blue hair last year? ‘Gothic Justin Bieber,’ as people call him?”
I grip the table. “Um. Maybe.”
“Well I was driving my dog to the vet, and I saw you guys. Is he your partner for that project?”
I gulp, then shrug. Why would I run away from something I’m not even ashamed of? And he’s given me the perfect excuse, after all…
“Yeah, I guess,” I finally say. “Why?”
He smile-frowns. “Well, isn’t he…isn’t he super freaking gay?”
He says the word “gay” like he’s actually saying “a circus performer with leprosy.” I always thought he was progressive, so I have no idea why he’s talking like this. Still I play dumb. “I don’t know. Is he?”
He looks at me like I just shot a puppy. “I mean, isn’t it apparent?”
“What? Seriously, what?” I ask. “He was helping me with that project.” And he was helping me, I think to myself – helping me with the project of sucking me off. I want to moan just thinking about it.
“Whatever you say,” Thad exhales as he turns away. “I just…you know, you guys seemed very aware of each other. Even from afar. It was like how I am with Lexi.”
“You’re dating Lexi.”
/> “I know. Or, I was, but we decided to take some time off the other day.”
“Sorry about that. Don’t know what you’re talking about with Ty Stanton, though. He’s just a good friend.”
He frowns. Soon he sits taller and slaps my shoulder. “Whatever, dude. Do what you want. All this is fine, but if you pull a Caitlin Jenner and show up to my house in a wig and heels, I’ll really be worried.”
I try to laugh, but I just watch him as he gets up and walks away. A week ago I wouldn’t even have noticed his comment, but now it sits uneasily in my stomach like a bad burrito. What was wrong with Caitlyn Jenner, or trans women like her? Why was a mention of her name supposed to be automatically funny or scandalous? And why would he be “worried” if I did happen to be some kind of cross-dresser? What was wrong with that?
~
I get a text ten minutes later, after I pee in Starbucks’ famously clean bathroom. It sends a rush up my arms as I take out my phone, and I smile when I see Ty’s name. Even after meeting him and everything, that little feeling isn’t going away. If anything it’s sinking deeper.
I cannot stop thinking about how you taste, he says. Please send me to rehab, because I don’t think I can get enough of you.
And yikes, I promise I’m not usually this cheesy and psychotic, it’s just that nobody has ever quite had this effect on me before…
I smile again. His talk doesn’t seem overtly sexual – if anything, it just seems kind of matter-of-fact. Girls were always bitching when I tried to get too sexual with them, anyway, and so this talk is refreshing to me. What if I could date someone and fuck them all the time? What if the sex never ended? It makes me giddy just to envision.
I chew on my lip and try to think of my response. He’s already the only person in the world who can make me feel nervous – I just want to impress him, and it’s the wildest thing.
We keep texting back-and-forth, and I can’t get enough. Once I’m home I head straight for a public chat room as soon as I have a free minute, a Ty-less minute. It’s easy to be honest with strangers, and so after I find a chat room that deals with sex and love, my story flows out pretty quickly: