Suggestive Name, Part 3
by Greg Scott
All the usual stuff about you must be old enough in your jurisdiction, etc. In other words, if you are underage, don't read this unless you have a really cool teacher who assigned it. Otherwise, come back in a few years, when nobody will yell at you.
This is the eighteenth story in the series, The Lavender Line.
Once Rob and I got to my house, we walked in the side door. My mom was in the kitchen.
"Hello, Alex," Mom said while smiling directly at Rob.
"Mom, this is Rob. We're going..."
"Rob, it's so nice to meet you," she interrupted me. "I've heard so much about you. I'm glad we're finally meeting."
"Mom, I've only known Rob a week," I said to deal with my embarrassment about having talked so much about my new friend in so little time.
"Is that all, really? It seems so much longer," she teased. Then she turned to Rob again, "Besides, Karl's mother speaks very highly of you, too."
"Mom, you're going to make Rob feel like you've been checking up on him," I pleaded as my embarrassment grew.
"I am very glad to meet you, too," said Rob who took advantage of his first chance to enter the conversation, offering his hand to my mother.
She ignored his proffered hand and leaned in to give him a kiss on the cheek instead.
"Besides, checking up on your son's friends is a mother's prerogative," she said with a wink to Rob.
"Alex, I'm going to run some errands, and I'll be stopping at the market on the way home. Will Rob be staying for dinner?" she asked hopefully.
"I'd love to," he answered before I could decline the invitation for him.
"Where's Dad?" I asked.
"He and Mr. Wilson are playing golf with a couple of Mr. Wilson's colleagues," my mother explained, referring to Karl's dad. "We'll both be gone for several hours, so you can play your music as loudly as you want."
I never play music too loud, so I suspected that my mother was sending me a signal for a somewhat different reason. I was now thoroughly embarrassed.
When we got to my room, I closed the door behind us, even though we had the house to ourselves. Rob and I had said almost nothing during the drive from his house to mine. Our entire conversation consisted of asking the other "Are you okay?" and answering, "I'm okay."
"Rich is a sick asshole. I'm sorry," Rob said.
"You'll get no argument from me," I agreed. "I think there might be a little bit more to his problem, though."
"What do you mean," he asked.
"I think Rich is in love with you. At least, I think Rich is jealous of me or envies me or something," I offered my psychological diagnosis.
"No, it's the brainwashing he's gotten from that fucking church," Rob insisted, naively, I thought.
"Don't you think it's odd for somebody who claims that homosexual acts are an abomination would coerce two guys into having sex with him?" I pressed on.
"I don't want to talk about him any more. I just get mad all over again," he said.
"Okay. Deal. We'll just focus on us," I agreed.
"Although I have to admit..." Rob hesitated.
"You have to admit what?"
"It was damn hot seeing you sucking a cock," he said looking away from me.
"Oh, I saw how you reacted," I teased him, reminding him of the way his shorts tented during the time we were obeying Rich's orders.
"Yeah, and you didn't look all that disgusted, either," he shot back smiling.
"Hey, I'm a guy," I offered as an excuse.
"And I'm glad about that," he said as he leaned in to begin the first of our many kisses since our confusing ordeal that had simultaneously appalled and excited us both. I was glad to see that at least Rob wasn't showing any signs of jealousy that I had actually sucked his estranged friend's cock before I had ever touched his own.
I couldn't tell you exactly how it had happened, but I realized that at some point during our sometimes tender, sometimes insistent kissing we had managed to get out of our clothes and onto my bed. I had still not seen his dick, or if I had it hadn't registered consciously with me.
I looked at it, remembering what I had thought when Karl first introduced us. I thought that his first name was perfect for a porn star, and I playfully wondered whether his real "rod" would measure up to the name, if you'll pardon the double entendre. Now I had my answer.
I read an interview with a gay porn photographer one time. He said that in his industry three things mattered: face, body and cock. Any porn model must meet at least two of the three criteria.
Rob had one of the most beautiful faces that I had ever seen. Interestingly, he seemed to grow even more handsome each time I saw him, but I sensed that it wasn't that physical changes had happened during the week that we had know each other but that my own eyes were interpreting his beauty even more favorably.
Rob's body was muscular and defined but without the definition calling attention to itself. You would look at him and think that he had a nice body, but you wouldn't think that he cared too much about it, if you know the distinction that I am describing here.
His "rod"... Well, his rod was just a cock. In fact it looked a lot like mine as it stood proudly at attention, staring back at me. It had a nice shape, was about average in length and girth and was cut like most of my peers. For some reason, though, as I looked at it for the first time, it was the most perfect penis that I had ever seen. I suspect I thought that more for who it belonged to than how it actually looked.
So I don't know if Rod could be a porn star or not, but I wanted to spend as much time as possible gazing at him, touching him, tasting him and...Well, you get the idea.
You know that awkward period in the sexual preliminaries where both parties try to figure out who is going to move things to the next level and how? We didn't have that period. It actually had been settled when Rod had promised me, "next time" after he had blown me and I had wanted to return the favor in the car.
This was the "next time" that I had been dreaming of, so I now wasted no more time getting down to business. I moved down directly to my target with no intermediate steps along the way. No nipple teasing, no ball licking, no anything except taking fully into my mouth the second cock of this strange day. But this was the cock that I had thought of when I awoke this morning, although it still lacked shape or size or aroma in my mind at that point. This was the cock that I was beginning to love, because it was attached to this man.
How very different this cock felt in my mouth. It filled me completely but didn't trigger the gag reflex that I had experienced on the day's prior, unscheduled experience. It was fuller, that is bigger around, and that difference meant to me that it had a more interesting, a more variable texture. I relished memorizing the feel of it.
There was a slightly salty taste. I suspected that Rod, like me, had produced an ample amount of nervous sweat during the business with Rich. His sweat, though, probably because it was his sweat, tasted like nectar to me. I became drunk on it, hypnotized by it, elevating my desires to even greater heights.
I sensed the slight aroma of soap, no doubt left over still from his morning shower. I was glad that the soap did not overpower his own natural scent that I had already come to know during my close time with less intimate parts of his body.
I noticed all of these things while automatically doing what I had desired for the past seven days, moving my mouth to give him pleasure. I instinctively applied suction and released it at all the right times.
If this were to be my only experience with Rob, even my only experience with him that afternoon, I might have felt that he reached his climax too soon. However, I knew that there would be other climaxes that day and in the time to come to us.
Consequently, I rejoiced without reservation as he shouted his pleasure a brief instant prior to my first taste of his body's own product, made largely while he lusted after me. It rightly belonged to me, and I staked my claim selfishly.
We shared his cum with kisses at other times, but I had absolutely no intention of giving any of my reward to anyone this first time. I wouldn't even share with that man whom I loved at this instant, although later I would reserve the use of that emotionally loaded four letter word, love.
I used the cum as mouthwash, swishing it around so that it would not miss any part of my mouth capable of remembering its taste or feel. I held onto it until so much of my own saliva had mixed with it that it was as much me as it was him. And then I swallowed, wishing that it would stay with me forever rather than passing eventually out of my body. I guess you could describe me as very selfish that afternoon.
When I was finished savoring Rod's gift, when I was sure that I had swallowed every cherished molecule, I returned to my lover's lips.
We kissed deeply and long, and then we began again, becoming more patient in this particular journey to ecstasy.
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