by Tom Collins
He was eyeing me with interest now, and I suspected what was coming next.
“Have you ever been with a girl?”
I smiled. “Once; to sate my hetero-curiosity.” I paused a moment, remembering Andrea’s walnut brown skin and bright smile, her laughter and instructions as I’d made my attempts to please her. “There was a nursing student in my anatomy classes; we got to be good friends and when I mentioned being interested, she offered herself up. We had one casually intimate night together and I learned all about female pleasure centers. Then she went back to boys and so did I. She now works for UNICEF.”
“How did you like it?” Liam asked.
I shrugged. “It was good fun. Different. I’m glad I tried it, but I’m not bi-sexual. Being capable of making love to a woman isn’t the same as wanting to.”
His smile took on that mischievous, boyish tilt. “But women are soft and they smell good,” he sighed wistfully.
“Now you’re trying to make me jealous.”
“Is it working?”
I laughed and finished off the last bites of tuna salad. I was surprised to find it was getting dark out. Where had the day gone? “I had a really good time with you, Liam,” I said. Hell. Was I blushing? I was. “I mean everything, the drive to the water park. All of it. I can’t remember the last time I enjoyed a date so much.”
Those great, green eyes of his flicked down then back up. His fork scraped about the last grains of rice across his plate. “So, you’d like to do it again?”
“Yeah,” I said my heart pounding. “I’d like that.”
He helped me clean up, then, catching me yawning, remarked that it was probably time for him to go. It wasn’t that late, but I’d been up until the wee hours last night, and Liam had worn me out today in more ways than one. He got his shorts and tee back on, and I found his flip-flops for him. As I opened the door, he gave me a kiss, his hand touching the small of my back in a way that was surprisingly tender.
The room seemed to shrink once he was gone, as if his presence had expanded it. Emotions churned inside me, conflicted as I recalled the way his tongue had snaked over the pulsing vein in my cock, caressed my rim until I could hardly keep from squirming and begging for more. He’d intuited it all on his own, those warm, wet licks to make the tender skin of my cock sizzle. Someone so imaginative and willing and adept was going to equal me in no time, and once he did, I doubted he’d stick around.
It was no wonder I couldn’t keep from pouncing on him; I wanted as much of him as I could get before he realized how dull and limited I was.
I was starting to pace and brood on this when the phone rang. It was Sandy.
“Hey, kiddo!” She had a rich voice I’d always loved for being clear and sure. There was the faded twang of a southern accent to it, left over from her childhood. “Dom and I are going to be visiting the city for an afternoon concert next week. We thought we’d try to hook up with you afterwards. “
Dominic Kwak was my step-mom’s husband, married to her for about a year now. He loved classical music and they tried to go to concerts when they could.
“We still have to celebrate your birthday,” she added.
“That’d be great,” I said. “I actually know some people now and I’ll ask around for a good restaurant.” Some people, I thought, hesitating, then added. “I don’t suppose…you wouldn’t mind if I, um …brought someone, would you?”
“Not at all. Your new partner?”
“No, a…a guy I met.”
Silence. I fidgeted.
“I…sorry, kiddo,” she laughed. “I’m a little stunned, and thrilled. You’ve only been there what; two-and-a-half weeks? And you’ve got a boyfriend you want to introduce to us? I mean, you never did that out here in the ‘burbs. Let’s hear it for the big city.”
I blushed. “Let me ask him first. I’ll see if he can make it.”
I could almost see Sandy smile, her mouth done up with lipstick always a shade too bright for her fair complexion. She knew I was hedging my bets, not committing to anything yet.
“You do that. Whether we dine with you alone or with this new guy too is fine. We’ll be happy either way. You take care now.”
“You, too. Best to Dom.”
She knew me too well, did Sandy; she knew how I always had to be assured I’d still be liked, no matter what.
I hung up the phone and went to lie on the bed. It smelled of sex and of Liam. If I played my cards right, kept things interesting and didn’t scare him off, I might be able to hang onto this fantastic man for the whole summer. Maybe even stay friends with him when he went back to college in the fall.
Wouldn’t that be wonderful? Bitter dissatisfaction laced the droll thought.
Exhausted from the day, I drifted off to dream of him and his pleasure.
*Liam*
I didn’t want to leave. I wanted to go back up the stairs and wallow in his bed with him for the rest of the night, even if we only slept. I couldn’t push myself onto him though, not if I wanted this to last. That was where I always went wrong: pushing a relationship into waters it wasn’t ready to go into. I was always ready to take the next step, the deep plunge into forever, while my lovers were still getting used to the shallow end.
I gripped the steering wheel as I sat in Oliver’s parking garage, trying to connect myself to the world. I sometimes felt like a rogue comet, lost in the reaches of space, crying out for someone to come take the trip with me. They always answered back, “Look at your trajectory. You don’t even know where you’re going. Why should I come along?” I wondered where my Jillian was and I couldn’t help hoping it was Oliver.
I cranked the car, needing to get it back to my mom. I was trying to focus on traffic, but my mind kept wandering back to what had transpired. Oliver was incredible, no doubt. Thoughtful, patient, magnanimous even; not to mention highly intelligent, well educated, physically beautiful—Oh, and lest we forget, sexually open and highly educated in this arena as well. I was no match for this sophisticated, mature man as I was. I needed help. More help than the gang could give me.
Uncle Devlin.
Hoping Mom wouldn’t get too bent out of shape at me returning the car late, I took a detour past my uncles’ home. There were lights on downstairs, so I took a chance and parked in the drive. I rang the bell on the front door and listened to the crickets chirruping in the rose bushes flanking the porch.
The door opened revealing Uncle Devlin’s WASPish good looks. He was dressed in summer shorts and a worn tee and frowning. “Oh, hey, um…”
“Liam,” I supplied. I suspected he could tell my brother and I apart, but preferred to make us identify ourselves so we couldn’t later claim he hadn’t asked. He always suspected something nefarious was afoot. If we claimed he’d talked to the wrong twin, it would mean we’d lied to him. We’d been a bit too welcoming to him in the beginning, I think, Bren and Erin and I, and he’d had his guard up with us ever since.
“Right. Joel’s not here. He’s pulling an all-nighter for court tomorrow.”
“I came to see you,” I replied.
He blinked blue-green eyes warily. “Ok, come on in then, but let me warn you upfront: whatever you’re selling, no; whatever you want me to invest in, no; and if you want me to sign anything, or pretend to be anyone else, no, no, no…N-O!”
I stepped inside, drifting into the sunken great room while he finished his quiet tirade.
“Actually,” I said, settling on the couch, “I’m here for some advice.”
Blink again. “Oh?” He took a few wary steps closer. “Advice about what?” He sounded a touch skeptical.
“On…um…being a bi-sexual.”
Blink. Blink. “Oh?”
Just then, Pixel made her move, coming out of nowhere and leaping onto her prey—me—only to faux-maul me with sheathed claws.
“Hey!” I jumped in surprise, and she dashed away almost instantly, bounding over couches and chairs about the room until she ended up back on the co
uch near me. I swear I’ll never understand how such a cute animal could be so vicious. She stayed on alert, there in the corner, orange and black furred butt up, white paws forward, eyes dilated, bubblegum pink nose twitching.
“Bad cat!” Devlin said to her, but his tone was hardly chastising. In fact, it held more than a little pride to go with his smug smile. I think he liked it when their crazy calico went on the rampage, especially against us young and troublesome O’Shaughnessys. Hearing her beloved Devlin’s voice, Pixel relaxed, pupils shrinking, and flopped on her back. Within seconds, she was purring loud enough to wake someone as Uncle Devlin settled next to her. He reached for a glass of iced soda sitting on a coaster on the coffee table.
“Yeah, so, um…you've sucked a lot of dick, so could you—”
I thought spraying Diet Coke out your nose was something that only happened in the movies. He spent several seconds dealing with it, and I followed him into the kitchen as he alternately admonished me and coughed.
“Fucking—hell! Don’t—say shit like that when I’m drinking!” I couldn’t help but laugh a little. “Are you jerking me around, Liam, or what?” he demanded when he was able.
“Look, Uncle Dev—”
“How many times do I have to tell you kids to drop the ‘uncle’ bit?”
“I know Brendan, Erin and I gave you a rough introduction to the family, a real trial by fire, but we had to be sure. Our uncle wasn’t the only one hurt when Eric decided to jump the fence and go sow his seed in a fresh pasture.” He glanced up, looking me in the eye for the first time since I came through the door.
My Uncle Joel’s first partner, Eric, had entered the lives of us elder O’Shaughnessy kids when we were in middle school; as he was as playful and mischievous as us, we’d adored him. Three years later, as we were entering high school, he’d left Joel without a word of warning. It took us all by shock and the hurt and resentment we’d felt about it got worse as we watched our favorite uncle withering away in grief for months on end. So, when Uncle Joel unexpectedly introduced Devlin to the family, we didn’t trust him, and more or less took out our bitterness at Eric on him. We learned to believe in his love for Joel soon enough, when we saw how happy the two were together.
Once we were sure he was genuine, we O’Shaughnessys notched ourselves down from holy terrors to normal terrors, though Uncle Dev might not have ever realized it. Thing is, none of us had ever talked to him about what had happened, or how we’d acted toward him back then. I suppose we should have. It was long past time one of us waved a white flag and sued for peace.
“We’ve given you a pretty hard time over the last few years, I won’t deny that,” I said now, “but a good bit of it was just teasing. We wouldn’t’a bothered if we didn’t like you. As for the ‘uncle bit’, as you put it, we all call you that as a sign of respect, because, no matter how much shit we might give you, we do respect you, and want you to know it.”
Blink. “Oh.” I swear, his jaw tightened and his eyes welled up. “Well…Okay then.”
“I’m sorry about the way I dropped that bomb,” I added, “but I wasn’t sure how else to bring the subject up.”
“Yeah, well…just to be sure here. You’re the bi-sexual in question?”
“That would be a yes.”
“I see. Well, if I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt and going with the theory that you’re not yanking my chain…” he arched his brow at me, as if to confirm it one last time. I gave him a vigorous nod. “Then the situation we find ourselves in is that you’ve decided you’re interested in experimenting—sexually—with men. Do I have the scenario correct?” He settled onto one of the tall stools at the breakfast bar and I took another further down.
“Well, not really. I do sort of have a boyfriend.”
“How do you, ‘sort of,’ have a boyfriend?”
“It’s not official, I mean we haven’t discussed it, you know? See, I met him at the pub, he’s Uncle Gabe’s new partner. He’s not old!” I rushed to assure him. “He’s only got a couple of years on me, and he’s gay, not bi, so I thought, ‘who better to advise me?’” I held my hands out to indicate Devlin. “Oliver has more experience than I do…sexually speaking, and there is no way I measured up to the level of-of…technical proficiency he must be accustomed to.”
“Wait…you said there’s no way you, ‘measured up?’ Past tense? So you’ve already—” He left off with a swirl of his hand.
“Yeah,” I said with a “duh” tone.
“Where?” he demanded. “Not in the Irish Eyes men’s room I hope.” There was an edge of alarm to his voice.
“What?! Good God, no!” Jeeze, what he’d think I—I caught my breath, suddenly remembering the come-hither look Oliver had given me that first night as he’d sauntered off to the bathroom. He hadn’t been inviting me to—
—had he?
“Liam?” Dev was snapping his fingers in my face. I came back.
“At his place. We spent the day getting to know each other and then went to his place.”
Devlin let out a relieved breath. “Okay, and this was your first time?”
“Yeah, with him or any male of the species.” I leaned forward, as if someone might overhear. “Are all men so aggressive? That really caught me off guard. I know, it sounds stupid, but I didn’t expect….”
“The level of carnality?” I nodded. He smiled. “Yeah, you’ve just seen yourself through the eyes of every girlfriend you’ve ever had.”
It felt like my head was spinning on my shoulders. I hadn’t made that connection yet.
“Oh, wow.”
“Yeah, tell me about it. You’ll never look at a woman the same way again, my young friend.” He patted my shoulder in a way that suggested I was being welcomed to a club.
“So, you’re looking for some tricks to help you with giving head?” He sounded almost casual now he’d had a moment to deal with the new information. He was much quicker on his feet with information bombs than Uncle Gabe.
“Yes, please, and anything else that comes to mind.” I stepped over to the fridge. “I figure if you can make Uncle Joel worship you, there’s no one better suited to help me do the same with Oliver.”
“Gee, thanks, but there’s no big secret. All I do is make sure he gets his dick sucked, at least, every day humanly possible.” I dropped the soda I was pulling out. “Ah, now who’s surprised by forthrightness?” He crowed and I tipped my hand to him. “Put that can back and get one that’s not shook up. I don’t feel like cleaning up soda. Now, as I was saying; you want to keep your man happy? You gotta keep his dick happy. Love his cock and he’ll love you. Not to mention he’ll reciprocate and love yours right back.” He was in dead earnest.
“Also,” he went on, musingly, “if he’s over twenty, as you say, has already gotten through school and is settling into his career, he’s probably past his club-hopping, sexual-experimentation days and looking for something with substance. My recommendation would be to keep your dick in your pants unless it’s with him, and never suggest bringing in someone else. Both lead to a bag of hammered shit you do not want to deal with, believe me.”
Oh, really? I wanted to ask him all about what that meant. Another time, maybe. “That would apply to any relationship,” I said.
“That’s why it’s good advice,” he said and I laughed. “Now, on the specific subject of blowjobs, to which you so elegantly eluded earlier…” he rolled his eyes. I tried not to laugh again. Tried. “First thing: every gay man will tell you that you already know everything you need to know to give good head.”
I nodded, Oliver had said as much.
“It’s bullshit,” he told me. “Well, not really bullshit, but neither is it accurate. There are a few tricks that make it easier to do it well that instinct might not show you. For instance,” I was rapt, “you tend to worry about getting your mouth open as wide as possible, but that’s not the key to getting down on it. You have to kind of open your mouth at the hinge, too,” he demonstra
ted, using his jaw muscles to force the bone down and forward, “kind of like a snake, and really flex your throat open. I had to figure out how to do that on my own.”
“Wow. What else?” As I was still standing by the fridge, I pulled the magnetized grocery list pad off along with the pen, and began taking notes.
Blink. “You really are serious about this?”
“Yeah, of course!” I insisted once again.
“How did you decide you wanted this?”
“Well, I saw Oliver and I just knew.”
“Wait, you saw this guy and all of a sudden you’re bi and out hunting dick?”
“No,” I scoffed, “I saw Oliver and I knew I was ready and he was the one I wanted. I’ve been thinking about it for years. I think I’ve been jacking off to thoughts and pictures of men as long as I have of women.”
“Ugk…too much information.”
I laughed. “You asked.”
He laughed. “So why now? Why not earlier? First offer I got, I surrendered to my hormonal urges and gave boys a try.”
“Suffice it to say, I was leery of high school boys, and college men didn’t look any safer. I saw too many guys bullied and beaten for coming across as gay, never mind if they really were.”
“Sensible. You’ve got self-control, I’ll give you that. I sure didn’t when I was your age. Now, where was I? Ahh, I know. Listen, I would say this next piece of advice is more important than almost any other piece of advice anyone could give you. Relax.” I relaxed.
“No. That’s it. Relax. The one factor that will make anything you try more difficult, be it giving or receiving oral, or if you’re topping or bottoming—though it’s even more important any time his dick is going into one of your orifices under any circumstances—is tension. If you’re all tensed up, you’re never going to get all the way down on him whether he’s in your mouth or your ass, so relax and enjoy it.”
I didn’t know what to say, it seemed simple enough on the surface, but I knew how difficult it was to be calm and relaxed while having sex with anyone. Thinking of Oliver’s cock being in an orifice other than my mouth made my inner thighs and butt cheeks tingle.