LEARNING TO FLY - Chapter 2 -- by Dave MacMillan
Fucked duck or not, I knew I had to face up to myself. I had to accept what I was.
Most times, Mark Edwards dove into denial the moment the shit even looked like it was going to hit the fan and he didn't want to come back up and face the music. There had never been so much shit in my twenty years as there was those ten minutes I sucked Frank off and took each rope of his jizz down my throat.
I was ready to dive. I wanted to bury my head and not see me as queer. I looked for every thread of denial I could find inside me to pull over my head. Only, there wasn't any. I was queer, all right.
The only thing in my head as I drove home through the never-ending `burbs was Frank's damned cock. The wide, thick head with its sightless eye staring at me. Waiting for me. Calling to me. Drooling in invitation. Burping out ropes of Spanish spunk. And my tongue was right there, licking them up.
I wanted his cock. I wanted what he would do to me tonight. My body wasn't about to let me pretend nothing had happened. My own meat stayed hard in my jeans as I drove back home, keeping me as uncomfortable as I ever was with a boner in my pants I couldn't do anything about. I really had to be queer getting hard for another guy's pole.
I had to let my cock be free as soon as I was in the house, it was so hard my briefs were strangling it. I was hurting. I leaned against the door after I shut it and pulled my jeans over my ass and pushed my underwear right after them.
Starting to fist my boner, I found out It wasn't just the promise of Frank putting his meat anywhere I could take it, either. Frank's brother's grinning face was swimming through my head as my fingers slid down my pole. Rafe who didn't want anything to do with me when we were kids because I was a `maricón loco'.
Before I stroked myself a half-dozen times I had a naked Father Ralph from St. Thomas Henry occupying center stage in my mind, smiling as I imagined myself going down on his tool, Rafe's face gone. I was still fisting my meat when the manager at the Mexican restaurant had me on my back and was humping my ass. Before I could get off behind the front door, I had imagined sucking off half my high school swim team and letting the other half fuck me.
Mark Edwards wasn't just queer. He was a sex maniac in the making now he had slurped on Frank's bone. He was a tad unnerved.
I did not like the image I was developing of myself. But I wasn't still scared of my shadow like I was when I saw Frank's eyes on me right after I sucked him off.
I went back to my thoughts when I picked Frank Ciencias up that morning. It was all right for a man to love another man. To suck him off. To let him fuck him even. Love made doing things like that all right. But just having sex with another man for the hell of it? To have sex for the sex?
Frank didn't love me. But he wanted me sucking his cock for him. I had done it. Had I been blind to what really was in my head? Had I wanted sex as much as he did and fooled myself I had to have more? Was I just making excuses and fooling myself when I was going down on him in my dreams? Was I just fooling myself that I loved him? And that nothing was going to happen between us unless Frank loved me back?
All those guys I had just jerked off to were a pretty good indicator now I was thinking about it.
Mark Edwards was a horny, still-a-virgin twenty year old guy looking for a hard cock that'd take it all.
Not a pretty picture.
But Father Ralph? My mouth gaped now I realized I had desecrated the priest's body. Him especially. He was good-looking, I had to admit that. He was maybe 35 with sandy blond hair cut short and an innocent face that lied about his age. He was the youth pastor at St. Thomas Henry in Arlington where I went to church when my folks could still get me to go. I shook my head as I finally realized I had had a crush on the priest for years.
The hots for him was more like it. I shuddered. Father Ralph? He'd never understand one of his wards becoming queer. I doubted the priest had ever had a sexual thought in his life - no matter how good-looking he was.
Glancing around the foyer, I knew I had to get out of the house before I really started thinking and doing stupid things. Just because the folks trusted me enough to go away for the week-end didn't mean I could go crazy being queer. I pulled my clothes up, opened the door, and stepped back outside like a real adult who knew what he was doing.
My stomach growled and I accepted I was hungry. I blushed when I told myself jizz might be solid protein but it wasn't enough of a breakfast to hold a guy for very long.
I glanced at my watch, ready to tell myself I could just wait. It was already one o'clock. I wondered where the time had gone while I was having fun until I remembered I dropped Frank off at school close to eleven and it was a thirty minute drive home. I had beat my meat then and had all sort of dirty thoughts about far too many guys. One o'clock it was.
I glanced back at the house. There was food in the fridge - Mom was never unprepared. But I didn't feel like going back in there. Not yet. Not until I had my head screwed on so I wasn't jacking off to every guy I had ever seen. It was unreal what sucking Frank off had unleashed inside me.
I decided to eat Mexican without even thinking about it. Then, I spent the drive to the restaurant explaining to myself my decision had nothing to do with the cute, dark-skinned manager I was on a first-name basis with. And I played with those two words too. Eat Mexican - sure. Boy, Mark Edwards was queerer than a three-dollar bill.
I wondered if slim, boyish José Correda would even be interested in doing things with another guy as I parked in front of the restaurant and opened the door. The man sure had a tight body and I had eyed the bulge in his jeans the last two times I ate in his establishment.
Whoever ate Mexican at his table was sure to get more than a mouthful and handful. I bet myself he had a tamale that would fill anybody up and, then, wasted time telling myself I had sex on the brain and I needed to start acting grown-up as I pushed through the door into the restaurant.
The lunch rush was over and José stood at the register when I walked in. He was the only person in sight. `Señor Mark,' he greeted me with a warm, friendly grin.
"Where's everybody?" I asked, trying to swallow my heart that somehow had got all the way up my throat to the backside of my tongue. The way I was thinking now, I didn't want to be alone with any good-looking man under a hundred, especially not José.
He shrugged a masculine Latin shrug. "They have eaten. Mis jóvenes take their break now."
It didn't take long for him to seat me, bring me salsa and chips, take my order, and set everything out on the table before me. I tried not to follow him with my eyes while he moved around the restaurant. I reminded myself I didn't want to be obvious, even if I did like cock.
A closet door might well be a good thing for Mark Edwards to hide behind. Only, I still couldn't help but notice how tightly José filled his jeans and how packed his bulge looked.
He kept finding his way back to the table after he served me. "I have my break in twenty minutes, Señor Mark," he told me on his last pass-by. "What do you plan this afternoon?"
I stared at him, my enchiladas forgotten. José was grinning at me. "I hadn't really thought about it," I managed, feeling my way slowly through the emotions crashing through my head and measuring my words carefully. "Maybe I'll go out shopping-" I shrugged - limp Gringo-style. I felt more queer than when I was staring at Frank's cock this morning just before I knelt before it and started sucking it.
"Do you mind me going with you?" His face still hide behind his grin. "I have two hours of break and no plans-"
"You want to go with me?" I asked timidly.
He nodded. "Sure. You're a nice guy. I bet you are fun to be with too."
Was this guy coming on to me? Did he know what I was thinking? I blushed. Yeah, I was thinking about his cock. How big it was. How it would taste. How it would feel. "Sure, José," I told him, even as I hated myself for just letting myself go and being a real faggot. "It'll be fun to get to know you-" I glanced around the restaurant. "Away from here. The real José."
Talk about double entendre. But, then, Mark Edwards was pretty naive, along with still being basically a virgin.
The Mexican chuckled. "Yes, Señor Mark. It will be fun." He stepped back. "Eat now. I'm ready as soon as one of the others comes back."
I stared at my enchiladas and wondered if they'd shrivel up when they got cold like cocks did after they blew a wad. I tried to resist the waves of sexual thoughts followed by doubts crashing over me.
I didn't want to hear all the warning bells going off in my head. I told myself José was just being friendly, that his inviting himself into my afternoon didn't include sex - and managed to almost believe it.
I watched as two of the young Mexican waiters entered the restaurant and listened as they chattered away in Spanish with José for a few minutes at the register. It didn't take any effort at all to strip them in my head. My heart was in my throat again and the place where my stomach was supposed to be felt strangely empty.
Ten minutes in the woods swinging on Frank's joint above the reservoir and I was finding cocks ready, willing, and able everywhere - or thinking about them being that way. I stood and went to the register, pulling out my wallet.
"No, Señor Mark," José told me. "This one is on me." He grinned and I was sure it was a leer. "You are ready?" I nodded and blushed again. The other Mexicans grinned and nodded to me. I hoped they weren't thinking what I thought they were thinking. José came out from behind the counter and opened the door for us.
"I'm going to have to stop at the house to get my check book," I told him when we were at the car and he shrugged that very masculine Latin shrug telling me it was all right with him.
José followed me into the house, closing the door behind us and smiling that warm and friendly smile at me.
"I'll be right back," I told him a lot more brightly than I felt and started down the foyer to my bedroom off the family room. I was afraid now I was alone with him he knew I was thinking about his equipment. Jesus! I didn't need anybody but Frank knowing that about me.
He followed me down the hall.
I picked up my check book from my dresser and turned back to the door. José was standing there, smiling at me, his hand cupping his crotch. I didn't even see his face, my eyes went directly to what his hand was holding through his jeans.
"Why don't we stay here and enjoy my break as we both would like, Mark?" he asked quietly and I didn't realize he left off the `Señor' until later after I was alone again.
"What-?" I gulped. This man knew what I was. Was everybody going to know? Was it written across my face or something? A scarlet `Q'?
José stepped into the room, that open, warm and friendly smile covering his face. His thumb was rubbing his cock through his jeans and I watched his tube snake out across his groin and down his right leg. "I am hard," he said, his voice a whispered caress. "Open my jeans, Mark, so we both may feel good."
I couldn't pull my eyes off the tube his pants outlined. "You're saying I'm queer," I groaned.
José chuckled, his fingers touching my cheek before falling to my shoulder. "You want it."
"You're queer too then," I mumbled, trying to hold on to some sanity in what was quickly becoming an insane world.
"My penga knows only fun," he told me quietly and I realized his other hand held my wrist and was pulling me to him. "Pengas and cuelos don't care where they find their fun-" He chuckled. "Of course, it is fortunate you are muy guapo." My hand was over his basket, its fingers spreading out across it and following the tube behind his jeans.
It was big. I could feel that through the heavy denim. Thicker and longer than Frank's. Than mine even. I wanted it. And both of José's hands had found their way to my shoulders, helping me get to my knees before him.
José was offering himself to me. And there wasn't anybody around to worry about.
I opened his jeans, peeling back the panels from the zipper. He wasn't wearing underwear and, as I pulled the denim open and started them over his globes, his penga jumped out at me.
I stared at Mexican meat for the first time. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph! It was huge.
I looked up at him and he was still smiling down at me. My eyes followed his body downward. He was slim and had good muscle tone. He was shorter than me by two or three inches. But his penga made up for that. It was bigger than mine - longer and thicker - and a lot bigger than Frank's.
"Suck it, Mark," he said softly in the silence of the room.
I reached out and gripped its base, jacking it enough to watch its prepuce cover the head and bunch together once past it. I nibbled at the puckered lace gently, wondering what that would do for the man before me and thinking if he liked it I could try it on Frank later. "Sí!" he groaned.
I stuck my tongue through the pucker, forcing it deep inside the sock until I felt his slit and used my tongue to cup the underside of his cockhead. José's hands rode the top of my head. He moaned and humped his hips forward.
My hand slid down his shaft, pulling his skin with it as José's cockhead searched for my tonsils.
His hands pulled me onto him.
I stared at the pubic mat rushing at me fast.
"Sí," he mumbled above me. "Take me, Mark."
I felt a hair or two tickle the tip of my nose before José swiveled his hips and pulled part of his meat past my lips. Immediately I thought his cockhead was going to slip past my lips, I tightened their hold on him, slowing his backward rush.
Then, I was riding down his shaft again, watching his pubes come toward me. My nose pushed through them and pressed into his abdomen.
"I want you since I see you in the restaurant," José gasped. "I want you for my penga."
We fell into a steady rhythm. José humped and his cock pushed into my mouth, its head diving for my throat, spreading my tonsils and pushing past them - until my nose was deep in his thatch. Then he was pulling away and I was grabbing his thick meat to slow his rush away from me. Over and over.
I pushed and pulled my shorts onto my thighs with one hand and fumbled for my meat in the bunched cotton of my briefs. I was hard and oozing when I finally got it out where I could work on it.
We were there in my room an eternity: José standing just inside the door and humping my face and me on my knees taking it. Wanting it. Enjoying it. The Mexican's jeans fell to his ankles and his hands began to travel over my back. He pulled my shirt up to my armpits and sighed when his fingers finally had skin to touch.
His fingers traveled lower and he bent further over me to get them to the small of my back, I instinctively hiked my ass to give him easier access to my cheeks. It was mindless and it felt good. I was swinging on José's penga and loving it. The Mexican's fingers traveling aimlessly over my back made it better. I pumped my cock with one hand and sent the other to find his asscheeks that I could begin to knead them. José moaned.
His fingers reached the elastic of my briefs and slipped beneath it. Both hands began to massage my asscheeks and my briefs stayed with them, exposing my globes.
His strokes finally became shorter and his cock swelled, pushing my tonsils deep into their sockets. A finger found my crack and crawled down it to my asshole.
"Jesús," he cried just as my nose buried itself in his bush and he plunged his finger into my hole. His muscles locked and he became rigid in front of me and over me for a long moment as his first blast rocketed down my throat.
He pulled back enough I tasted his second load of spunk. I licked his cockhead, working his spunk around it as his finger moved in my ass. My balls erupted and I was shooting all over his bunched jeans.
He humped my face half-heartedly a few more times, giving me each new rope of jizz as it erupted from his lovechannel but shuddering each time. He stepped back finally and smiled apologetically at me. "I come too fast the first time, Mark."
"The first time?" I asked guilelessly. Hell! I was in orbit. I had just sucked off a world-class cock and shot my own load. I wasn't up to thinking things all the way out.
"Sí." He chuckled. "I always come twice, one right after the other, when I do myself-" He made a jerk-off motion with his fist. "So, I have one more for you before I must go back."
I looked at his cock. It was still hard, demanding more attention, its skin bunched under its bared helmet.
"Stand up, Mark, and let us get naked," José told me as he pushed his sneakers off with his toes before using them to pull his jeans over his feet. He pulled his t-shirt over his head and stood before me in all the naked glory of young Mexico.
His hands grasped my shoulders and lifted me to my feet. They moved over my chest and stopped at the hem of my shirt, their fingers gripping it and easing it back up my body.
"We take this off, no?" he told me and I dutifully raised my arms so he could continue sliding it off.
When the shirt fell to the floor, his fingers trailed down my chest again, leaving gooseflesh in their wake until they reached my briefs half-way down my thighs. They nudged them and the thin cotton fell to the floor to join my pants.
"Guapo," he whispered, his fingers skimming the hairs of my thighs until they reached my hips and detoured to my asscheeks. He gazed at me, our eyes meeting and my cock deciding it definitely was up to another bout.
`Come,' he whispered, his lips brushing my chest as he lowered his face to tickle a nipple.
`Where?' I mumbled, finding it hard to think with his lips doing strange things to a part of my anatomy I hadn't known was directly connected to my cock.
`The bed, Marco. We make ourselves comfortable, yes?'
I nodded as his hand on my asscheek directed me to my camp bed.
`Lie across it, mi guapo,' he said softly.
I liked his hand where it was and I wasn't thinking. I fell across my camp bed face-down, catching myself with my own hands.
José chuckled. `I had hoped. Excelemente! A hungry ass for my second one.' He knelt behind me before his words connected and started to make any sense.
His hands spread my cheeks and opened my cleft.
I looked over my shoulder at him - his big, liquid brown eyes smiling back at me. What little resistance I felt melted.
Why not? Frank sure as hell planned on having some of it tonight and I wasn't planning on stopping him.
And there sure as shit wasn't any more there with him than there was here with José.
Still - that was virgin territory he planned on entering. And I was willing to bet getting something like his penga rammed up my ass was going to hurt. "I've never done this," I mumbled and blushed all over with the shame the admission brought me.
"No?" His eyes grew round. "Then, mi amigo, you will love what I do for us next." He grinned at me and nodded. I smiled back even as I told myself I was faking it. It was going to hurt like hell and I was a fool to let anybody pork me.
I grunted in surprise as his tongue touched my asslips. I grunted even louder when it pushed its way between those wrinkled ridges of puckered skin and slipped into my ass. "Jesus," I groaned as he fed me more of it and his hands continued their possession of my asscheeks.
I moaned and writhed as he tongued me, lubricating my hole and relaxing my muscle. I cried out in sexual abandon when he withdrew his tongue and started chewing at puckered skin. My cock rode my abdomen, caught between me and the bed and leaking like I never shot off before. I was ready to climb out of my skin. "Fuck me," I groaned.
"Sí, you are ready, Marco," he agreed and relief flooded over me. Only, that was followed immediately by the let-down that I didn't have his tongue and teeth exciting what I now knew was the most erotic part of my body.
I looked back over my shoulder and saw him rolling a rubber down his cock. "Hurry up," I growled.
"I feed you well, Marco," he promised and smiled at me. He placed himself against my ass-pucker and his hands gripped my hips.
I felt his cockhead push against my lips then and smiled back at him, the old lotus petals opening wide for him. But, then, that big head started pushing at my sphincter. I groaned as it was spread wider than I'd ever imagined.
Pain shot out over me as I instinctively tried to tighten up against him but his penga battered its way through. I was trying to pull myself out from under him to get away even as he pulled me further onto him until my ass-muscle had only his shaft to grip. Tears welled in my eyes as he held there, giving me time to adjust.
The pain ebbed quickly and was gone. I felt full as hell but knew that was his cock in my butt. I wiggled my ass on its invader tentatively and found that caused a whole bunch of new sensations I hadn't even imagined existed. I looked over my shoulder and grinned at him - and hoped that was invitation enough for him to continue.
I watched him push his way slowly into my lovechute, his hands gripping my hips and pulling me onto him as much as he pushed into me. Watching him entering me was exciting.
I wiggled my ass again as he moved deeper into me and gasped at the sensations that shot through me. I ground it in abandon against him as I felt his pubes tickling my asscheeks. "Do it, José," I growled over my shoulder. "Fuck my ass," I begged.
I laid my cheek on my bed, letting his movement in me rock me across the width of it. My cock jumped and started sending more signals as it rubbed between me and the army blanket covering the bed.
Ass and cock. My mind was a mix of feelings crashing over me from both ends as he fucked me and his movement in me rocked me back and forth across the bed, jerking my boner for me. I knew I could do this all day every day.
"You are tight," he grunted, pulling nearly out of me and his cockhead spreading my assmuscle with its flange. "So tight," he mumbled as he fed his meat back into me.
"Yeah," I groaned as I felt jizz spread wetly over the blanket under me. My cock stayed hard while he continued to feed me Mexican meat. I soon came again. And he kept feeding me.
I was beyond thinking. I was my ass and cock. Full and hard. Sensations I had no name for swirled through my body and I gripped the mattress as José brought me to the threshold of yet another orgasm.
His movement in my ass changed and his breathing became ragged, but I was slow to pick up on it. They became shorter, faster - even harder. He was pounding my ass.
I looked back at him and saw his eyes screwed shut and his lips pressed tight. His breathing was ragged. "I am close, Marcito," he gasped and shoved into me. I felt the head of his dick grow larger in my ass.
That kicked me over the edge. I was shooting another load as I felt each of his ropes of jizz blaze into the raincoat in my gut.
He fell across my back and nibbled at my ear when he finished coming. His cock was still in my ass but I could feel it already getting smaller and softer. `You are muy guapo, mi Marco,' he mumbled. "Your ass is very nice." His fingers caressed my cheek where it was pressed against his groin, leaving goose bumps in their wake. "Muy bueno," he muttered.
"I'm glad you liked it," I answered and stretched under him, languishing in the aftermath of what, even with no experience, I knew to be good sex.
"You come to the restaurant and we make the love often, yes?"
I snorted, remembering my earlier fear of him knowing I was queer. "You and your waiters?"
"You want them?" he asked in surprise. His eyes were wide when I glanced back at him.
He was waiting but I still took a moment to consider the possibility. There were some cute guys working at his restaurant. I knew I had to get a grip on being queer, however; or I was going to be bending over for everybody. "I don't think so. You're enough for me from that place, José."
"Bueno," he cried and kissed me on the mouth. "I hoped. You are muy guapo and I want you as my own maricón especial. We have good times together, yes?"
I nodded and smiled. I remembered what maricón meant then and frowned. "You want me as your own special queer, José?"
`Sí. I give you penga and we have fun, mi maricón guapo. You like that, yes?'
"Yeah," I grumbled through my satiation, trying to be angry at his image of me but not quite succeeding.
All I was feeling was embarrassment - me naked, lying under him, and having some of his meat still inside my ass. Me satiated.
"You want a regular piece of boyass when you don't have a girl to stick it in - is that what you're saying?"
He frowned and worked his way through the gringo idiom. "Of course. You become my special boyass. My penga makes us both happy-"
"When you don't have a girl around," I reminded him.
"That is only sometimes, Mark. I have no puta especial." He shrugged that Latin shrug again and I felt his soft cock slip out of my ass. "But you are my maricón especial."
"I'm going to have my sometimes too, José - lots of them," I told him with a lot more spunk than I felt.
"That is fair. Pengas and cuelos do not care-" He smiled. "That is okay." He glanced at his watch and groaned. "My break," he pushed himself off me and stood up. "It is almost over." He frowned at me apologetically. "You will drive me back to work, yes?"
I pushed myself off the bed, my ass tingling from the work-out he had given it. I slipped into my pants, ignoring the briefs, and pulled on my shirt. "We'll get together once a week - but you're going to have to have a place where we can go."
"Why?" he demanded pulling his jeans up his legs.
"My parents live here and they'll be home Monday."
He shrugged. "I have room - we go to my apartment. But why only once a week? You are mi maricón especial - my special queer-?" Suspicion clouded his eyes. "You like my penga, yes?"
I nodded. I didn't care any more - not in one sense. I was homosexual and I liked cock. His cock was fine. I liked queer sex. Only, I wasn't ready to have the Latino population of the Virginia suburbs of Washington, D. C., know me as José's special queer. Between him and Frank I figured I'd have enough sex to keep me filled to the brim. I sure didn't need anybody else getting ideas about me.
"That's why I'm giving you a day, José - that and you're a good-looking guy."
"You have someone else?" he demanded, his eyes narrowing.
"Yes, I do."
"He is as big as me? As good as me?"
"Not as big-" I understood this discussion would get us nowhere fast. "You want me one day or not?"
"I want more-"
"Not very likely if I want to keep a tight ass," I told him and grinned, accepting myself as a homosexual completely. "Come on, I'll get you back to the restaurant."
As the car pulled in front of the restaurant, he turned and continued to gaze at me until I had to look back at him. "What day do you give me, mi Marcito?"
"What day do you want?"
He quickly scribbled off his phone number and gave it to me. "I have off next Wednesday. I meet you and I have all day to make you forget this other man. You call me Wednesday morning when you are ready and I give you directions, yes?"