Date: Sun, 13 Jan 2019 16:26:34 +0000
From: Ben Coolen <bencoolen@protonmail.com>
Subject: Rooming with Dylan Chapter 3

Rooming with Dylan

By Ben Coolen

bencoolen@protonmail.com

Readers, please keep in mind that this story is 100% fictional. In real
life no man is better than the other, and nobody is entitled to treat other
people cruelly.

This story contains sexual acts (domination, submission, humiliation, oral
sex, masturbation) between young males. If you don't like it, or it is
illegal in your country, state or community, please stop reading it
immediately.

Please keep in mind that Nifty needs our donations to keep this great free
service running.

Thanks to Naughty Bard for proofreading the text.

Chapter Three

-----

I kept reminiscing of the touch and taste of Dylan's cock on my lips until
he came out of the shower, buck naked. His wet bangs were hanging in front
of his eyes. The red marks on his neck were already turning purple. I
noticed he had two hickeys on his lower abdomen too.

"Your turn, gay boy. You'll find my boxers and socks on the floor as
usual. Now that we have a service contract, you may take them home with you
too, but I want them back clean next week. Okay, cocksucker?

"Yes, Boss," I said and rushed to the bathroom.

----

Everyday life went on just like it had before the tour of our band. With
one exception: I was now a committed cocksucker, and that made me restless.

I kept dreaming night and day of the first time Dylan would want head from
me. What would it be like? Maybe he would invite me to his house; we would
go to his bedroom where I would slowly peel his clothes off. He knew I was
crazy about him wearing those Ethika boxers with the crazy tiger print, and
I was pretty sure he would put them on for me. I would suck his cock
lovingly for a long time, feeling his tight body with my gentle hands,
until I would bring him to the climax.

Maybe he would even become kinder to me when he saw the devotion I was
gonna serve and please him with? I knew he could be nice when he wanted,
but that didn't happen often in my case.

Nothing happened for several days. I saw him at school almost every day,
but he just raised his eyebrows or gave me a little nod before shifting his
attention to something or someone else. By Friday it had become obvious
that he wasn't going to need my services during the entire school week, and
I felt disappointed and sad.

Next Monday I had a long chat with Mr. Carson who had just returned from
his vacation -- a well-earned break after putting up with a bunch of
teenagers for several days. I used all my persuasive skills to change his
mind about banning Dylan and his band from the studio.

"Why are you doing this for him, Russ? Why isn't Dylan here to make his
case himself?" he wanted to know.

"We talked about it but he is still simply too ashamed of himself to look
you in the eyes, Mr. Carson. I know he'll come to apologize to you later
on. But please, don't ban him from using the studio. He'll bring so much
fresh artistic perspective and influence to our music program."

Carson didn't flinch. He was determined to be the responsible adult who
stays firm when dealing with teenagers. I decided to move from telling
innocent little white lies to producing complete bullshit.

"You know Mr. Carson, you have done so much for the music students of our
school that you should be nominated for the Governor's Music Teacher of the
Year award. That was Dylan's idea, you know?" I lied.

Now I had his full attention.

"State Music Teacher of the Year? Really?"

After parting with a very happy Mr. Carson I had a good reason to go and
find Dylan. I found him sitting at a round table with a bunch of other cool
kids. I touched his shoulder.

"Dylan, I've got news for you."

He looked a bit annoyed but lifted his eyebrows to hear what I had to say.

"Yeah?"

"You can keep using the studio with you band, man. I managed to persuade
Carson to cancel your ban," I whispered excitedly.

He snickered.

"Good work, Stevens."

Then he turned to address his friends.

"Check this out, guys! Stevens here just told me Carson lifted my ban from
the studio. I told you he would, right?"

He leaned closer to his posse and lowered his voice a little.

"That faggot has no spine."

Everybody laughed.

"He probably jacks off right now dreaming of sucking your dick!" One of the
guys, Pete, chimed in, making everybody laugh again.

"Yeah, just like your little gofer boy here, Dylan. Has he sucked your dick
yet?"

More laughter, only this time it was aimed at me and I felt my face getting
red. If they had just known the truth...

Dylan looked at me with a wide grin.

"Naah, my cannon is reserved for ladies. You can take a hike now, Stevens."

And everybody -- including Dylan -- laughed at my expense again.

"Byeee Stevens!" A teen chorus mocked me as I retreated from their table.

I was too upset to go to class so I searched for privacy in the studio.

Am I his cocksucker on not, I asked myself. Or was it just a prank -- a
joke he would soon share with his buddies? I wanted to be mad at Dylan and
never speak to him again, but I couldn't fool myself for long. I was
addicted to him, and I knew that even just seeing him would melt my anger.

A couple of days later Dylan surprised me by showing up at the studio after
lunch.

I was there organizing things, straightening out cables and wiping dust off
our equipment. Phil, a nerd who helped me with tech stuff, was sitting on
the floor with his laptop, running software updates, when the door opened
and Dylan stepped in.

He nodded at me, gave Bobby a disapproving look and sat down on a stool
without a word. He looked at me and nodded his head slightly towards
Phil. I got the message and quickly cleared the only obstacle to our
privacy in that room.

"Okay Phil, thanks again man. I think I can take it from here," I said.

Phil looked surprised as he knew I was no computer wizard but he packed his
gear and left.

Dylan followed him to the door, closed it and turned the knob back and
forth. Then he turned to look at me.

"How many people have a key to this place?"

I thought for a moment.

"You and me, Mr. Carson and the janitor."

He seemed dissatisfied and started looking around. He grabbed a large
amplifier and dragged it in front of the door of the studio, blocking it
from the inside. I watched him puzzled and a little worried, hoping he
wasn't planning to steal any of the expensive equipment. But he just
grinned at me.

"Well what are you waiting for? Get to work, cocksucker!"

At that point it dawned on me that he wanted to get his dick sucked, at
school, in the middle of the day.

"Dylan, we can't do it here," I said, my voice shaking a little.

"I just told you we can, Stevens."

"But no, what if we get caught?" I pleaded, but he wouldn't budge.

"Stop bitching gay boy," he snarled and pulled his black Nirvana t-shirt
over his head.

"I was sitting behind Betty the Boobs during Math class," he explained,
referring to a big-breasted girl with a slutty reputation.

"I could smell her fucking perfume, and her jeans were hanging so fucking
low that I saw her panties. Black fucking lace, can you imagine? And her
ass looked so big and meaty that it was just waiting to be fucked."

He unbuckled his belt and continued:

"I got so fucking horny that I could've jacked off right there. But I knew
my cocksucker would be here, so I decided to stop by after lunch to get my
rocks off."

I knew that trying to talk him out of it would be fruitless so, despite my
fear, I got up, walked over and sank down to my knees. My mouth felt
suddenly dry and I looked around to see if there was something to
drink. Nothing.

I was about to suck Dylan off for the first time. This wasn't anything like
I had imagined our first time to be, but there was nothing I could do about
it. I had promised to serve him whenever he wanted and that's what I was
about to do.

Dylan stepped closer and pushed his pelvis slightly forward. I got the
message and unbuttoned his jeans and pulled the zipper down, revealing his
underwear. I knew he wanted me to be quick, so I pulled the already
familiar blue Hollister boxers down below his balls. His cock was waiting
to be serviced, growing fast as he took hold of it and started to jerk
it. It wasn't huge as cocks in porn videos, but it was big (he once bragged
to me it was 7.5 inches when fully hard) and I doubted I could take it all.

But I had no time to worry about all that, because Dylan put his hand
behind my head and pulled it closer, pointing his cock towards my mouth. I
opened up just in time to let him push his dick between my lips.

He wasted no time and started to fuck my face right away. I felt his meat
become fully hard between my lips. But suddenly he pulled out.

"What the fuck dude, lube your fucking lips for chrissake," he rapped out,
irritated.

"I'm sorry man, my mouth is totally dry. Lemme run to the hallway to drink
some water," I said and tried to get up. But Dylan wouldn't have any of
that. He placed a firm hand on my shoulder and pushed me back down.

"Ain't got time for that!" he said and hawked noisily.

Then he bent down and let a thick glob of spit run down on his cock. He
hawked again. This time he missed and the sticky liquid landed in my lap.

"Fuck!" he snapped and hocked forcefully again.

This time he hit the mark with a thick, slimy loogie. He used his finger to
spread the snot on his rod.

"That'll do until I can work up some precum. Open up!"

I complied and opened my mouth. His phlegm-lubed cock slid inside
smoothly. He started thrusting back and forward, pushing it in and out
slowly.

"Squeeze your lips around it," he said.

I added pressure on the shaft by pursing my lips and he started to fuck my
mouth.

"Yeah, that's better. Look at me while you're sucking it," he ordered.

I raised my gaze to look at his handsome face. His hair was hanging in
front of his eyes but I was able to meet his intense dark eyes. He gave me
a complacent smile.

"Attaboy. Wish you could see yourself now."

I had dreamed of that moment countless times since our tour, but this
wasn't like I had expected at all. The first blowjob I gave to another boy
was short and clinical. Dylan had come to get his rocks off, and that's
what it was all about. I managed to feel his thighs and squeeze his hard
buttocks through his jeans a little, but all too soon he took hold of my
head with both hands and held it in place while he emptied his balls into
my mouth.

Most of his cum went right down my throat and made me cough, and when he
shot the last two shots of jizz I wasn't ready to swallow more yet and had
serious trouble with handling all that warm sperm in my mouth. He pulled
back and watched as I coughed and tried to catch my breath. I felt cum
running down my chin and I wiped it with my arm.

Dylan looked amused.

"Got any tissues?"

I reached to a drawer and handed him a wad of tissues. He wiped his cock
and dropped the wad into my lap.

"You're not a very good cocksucker yet, Stevens. You took in about this
much," he said and drew a line on his softening rod with his finger. It was
maybe three inches from the root.

"Sorry," I mumbled.

"Don't worry, you'll learn. This was your first time and I didn't expect
much, but you have to work on that gag reflex, dude."

"Okay."

"You need to practice. Let's set a goal for you, like homework. Next time
you'll take an inch more, okay?"

"I'll try. But how can I practice that?"

"How the hell would I know? I'm not a cocksucker. Just figure it out, man!"
he said and grabbed his backpack.

"And buy some lip balm," he quipped over his shoulder.

I felt depressed. I had thought that being Dylan's cocksucker would be
something we both could enjoy. Was it going to be like this every time, him
just stopping by quickly to empty his balls?

I needed to prove him that I could serve him better. I would have to set up
the perfect opportunity for a really hot, long oral session. But how would
I be able to pull it off? And where?

Surprisingly, my mom gave me the answer to that question.

"Russ, dad and I are going to visit Aunt Minnie on Saturday. We'll stay
overnight. Want to join us?"

I replied instantly.

"No, I don't think so, mom. Got tons of homework for Monday."

"Okay then. I'll leave you enough food and money to survive for a day. Just
don't do anything stupid."

"I won't."

Sucking Dylan's cock wasn't stupid at all in my opinion.

This was my big opportunity! I went straight back to my room and grabbed my
phone. A green dot next to Dylan's icon told me he was online. I texted
him.

RUSS: got the house to myself on Sat

DYLAN: so?

RUSS: wanna come over? You'll like it ;)

DYLAN: like what?

RUSS you know...

DYLAN: i don't

RUSS: I'll make you feel good

DYLAN: like last week

RUSS: yeh

DYLAN: wasn't good

RUSS: this time it will, i promise

DTLAN: ask me nice

RUSS: please let me do it

DYLAN: nicer

RUSS: please, please please, let me do it

DYLAN: dunno

RUSS: come on man

DYLAN: maybe

RUSS: please, please, i'm begging you

DYLAN: okay

RUSS: is that a yes?!!!

DYLAN: maybe

RUSS: so you coming?

DYLAN: dunno

DYLAN: if I feel like it

RUSS: please say yes

DYLAN: maybe

RUSS: PLEASE!!!

But Dylan was already offline.

What did that mean? Was he coming or not?

Did I really have to beg him to get his cock in my mouth? That wasn't fair!
I decided to stay firm. I wouldn't ask him again, this time he would have
to ask me.

Friday dragged on, but I heard nothing from him. I went to bed and checked
my phone for the umpteenth time. Dylan was online. I really tried to resist
but...

RUSS: you coming tomorrow or not?

DYLAN: where

RUSS: our house, I told you!

DYLAN: maybe

RUSS: come on, i gotta know!!

DYLAN: you really wanna do it

RUSS: yes!

DYLAN: how bad

RUSS: very bad

DYLAN: scale 1 to 10 how bad

RUSS: 10 or 11

DYLAN: that's pretty bad

RUSS: it is, so?

DYLAN: dunno

RUSS: please say yes or no

DYLAN: maybe

RUSS: I need to know!!!

DYLAN: stop spamming me stevens

And he went offline again.

So, my hopes for a long session of sucking Dylan's cock on Saturday
vaporized. Secretly I still hoped he would come. My sleep was restless that
night, and every time I woke up I grabbed my phone to see if he had texted
me. Nope.

My mom and dad left soon after breakfast. After seeing them off I went back
to bed and fell asleep. I don't know how long I had slept -- probably an
hour or so -- when my phone rang. I glanced at it: Dylan. He hardly ever
called me, so it had to be important.

"Hey, wassup?" I asked.

"Dude, still got the house to yourself?"

I was suddenly fully awake. Would this be it, after all? My heart jumped
from joy!

"Yeah sure. Wanna come over?"

"Look man, I've been partying all night and I got this really hot chick
with me. She's been ready for me all along, but I couldn't fuck her here in
Noah's couch, there was a bunch of other kids in the room. I need to use
your bedroom, Stevens."

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Once again he was going to use my
compliance to get what he wanted, I thought bitterly. But I couldn't say no
to Dylan, I never could. At least I would be able to see him.

"Well, okay I guess. When will you be here?"

"I'll ask someone to give us a ride. Maybe half an hour."

"Okay," I said and ended the call.

He would fuck his latest one-night stand in my bed. I threw my bed sheets
in the hamper and replaced them with a fresh set. Then I tidied my room a
bit.

I had just managed to wash my face and brush my teeth when I heard a car
horn honk in front of our house. I peeked out and saw a girl getting out of
a wreck of a red pickup. Dylan appeared right behind her. He waved his hand
to the driver and escorted his date to our front door.

I held the door open for them and he guided her in. I hated her
immediately. I could smell her perfume as she squeezed past me without a
hello.

Dylan followed her and grinned at me.

"Where's your room?"

"Upstairs, last door on the left."

They climbed up and I heard the door close behind them.

I sat down on the couch and turned on the TV. I sat there trying to watch
MTV while Dylan insulted me by having sex with a girl in the intimacy of my
own bed. I felt deeply humiliated. He was knowingly exploiting my kindness
and willingness to please him. Was this how things would always be between
him and me?

Suddenly a loud high-pitched moan penetrated the sounds of the TV.

"Aaa... Yess... No... Don't stop..."

I turned the volume up and tried to watch a stupid reality show about
beautiful young girls and guys on a little island trying to get laid with
each other.

After maybe forty minutes I heard my bedroom door open and a pair of bare
feet pad to the bathroom. Dylan came down the stairs, fixing his messy hair
with his fingers. His t-shirt was hanging around his neck, and the top
button of his belt-less jeans was unbuttoned, revealing his bright orange
American Eagle underwear. He flashed me a shit-eating grin, grabbed his
t-shirt and wrapped it playfully around my head. The shirt smelled like a
young man had worn it for too long. I pulled it off and set it aside.

"You don't know what you're missing out, gay boy. Did you hear her moan?"

"Yeah."

"Hahaha, I bet you did. She went fucking crazy when I ate her pussy,
hehee!"

The girl came down, avoiding eye contact with me. Dylan took her in his
arms and kissed her lips.

"Is your ride coming?"

"Yeah, it should be here in a minute."

They sat down on the stairs to wait for her ride. To my relief it arrived
shortly, and Dylan escorted her out. I hoped the neighbors wouldn't notice
an unfamiliar shirtless young guy smooching a girl goodbye on our front
lawn.

Dylan came in and slammed the door shut.

"Got any food in here, Stevens? I haven't even had breakfast yet."

I sighed.

"We got some pizzas in the freezer. Pepperoni and seafood I think."

"I'll go for Pepperoni," he said, grabbed a pillow and lay down on the
couch on his back.

I put the frozen pizza in the microwave, set the power to maximum and left
it to do its rounds. It would take a while to cook, so I decided to check
my bedroom meanwhile.

The sight was pretty much what I had expected. My bed was a mess; the
sheets were tangled up together at the foot of the bed, one of my pillows
was on the floor, and the air was polluted by a strong smell of
heterosexual intercourse.

I opened the window and let my eyes scan the room for any incriminating
evidence my parents might find. And yes, something small and blue under my
desk caught my eyes. I picked it up. It was a condom wrapper, the text on
the cover describing it as Extra Large and Ultra Thin and Lubricated and
Contoured for Extra Pleasure.

If my Mom found a condom wrapper -- or even worse, a used rubber -- in my
bedroom, she would kill me. Explaining that I had let another guy have sex
in my bed wouldn't improve my chances of survival one bit.

The rubber had to be somewhere in my room. Now, what would a guy like Dylan
do with a used condom in my bedroom? Throw it in the garbage -- Dylan? No,
that was out of the question.

I went down on all fours and looked under my bed. Nothing there.

I found it in the opposite corner from my bed. There it was, tossed
carelessly away by Dylan. Never mind if I would be in trouble because of
it. You can always say you're sorry. Well, I knew he wouldn't even do that.

I took hold of the ring at the root of the condom with my two fingers and
held it in front of my eyes. The surface glistened with some substance I
wanted to know nothing about. The tip was filled with pearly liquid. I
didn't need to guess what that was.

I was about to discard the slimy rubber in the trash can but I changed my
mind. What if my mom emptied it and saw it? That option was not safe
enough. I wrapped it with some tissues and stored it temporarily in the
drawer behind some old comic books. I would throw it away on Monday morning
on my way to school.

I heard the microwave clink so I went back downstairs to serve Dylan his
pizza. He was still lounging in the couch, chuckling at something on the
TV. I took the pizza out of the oven, put it on a plate and cut it into
smaller slices. I placed it on the dining table with a glass of orange
juice.

"Your pizza is ready," I said with what I hoped was an icy voice.

"Just bring it over here, this shit is fucking funny," he called from the
couch.

I carried the pizza over and placed it on the coffee table.

"Be careful not to drop anything on the couch or on the carpet," I said and
went to get his juice.

He was already stuffing a slice in his mouth with his fingers when I got
back.

"This is pretty good," he declared with his mouth full of pizza.

I couldn't help staring at him. He looked so incredibly desirable laying
there shirtless in his unbuttoned jeans. He had let his hair grow since our
tour, and the silky, auburn-toned chestnut locks were spread all over the
pillow under his head. His right hand was bent behind his head while the
left one fed him pizza, and his hairy armpit was exposed to my hungry
eyes. I wondered how it smelled... I had to shake myself awake. I had some
serious business to discuss with Dylan.

"Thanks for leaving a used condom under my bed," I said. To my dismay my
voice was shaking.

"I left it there? Well, I don't need it anymore so you can keep it," he
chuckled.

I sat down in an armchair. I had to let him know how I felt about the way
he treated me.

"Dylan, we need to talk. About us."

He picked up another slice of pizza with his fingers and took a bite.

"Dude, there's no us. I'm not your boyfriend. Live with it," he said, not
even bothering to look at me.

I felt so offended by his cruel words that I felt tears welling up in my
eyes, and I let out an involuntary sob.

"Dylan, why do have to be such an asshole? I've been so nice to you and you
treat me like... like shit. You come to our house just like that and fuck a
girl in my bed and... and... throw the rubber under my bed and expect me to
clean after you and serve you lunch. That's so fuckin wrong!"

Saying that made me sob again and I felt tears running down my cheeks.

Dylan noticed that and momentarily looked surprised and unsure of what to
do -- something I had never witnessed before. Then he sighed and got up,
walked around the table with the pizza slice still in his hand and stopped
right in front of me. Then he reached out for the kitchen roll on the table
and pulled out a length of paper. He wiped the tears off my cheeks and some
snot from under my nose. Then he pinched my nose so I could blow it and
dropped the wad on the table.

"Better?"

Having Dylan so close to me actually did make me feel better but I didn't
want to admit that. I looked at him. He was stuffing the last of the pizza
slice in his mouth, not looking concerned of my wellbeing at all.

"No. I don't wanna do this anymore."

"Come on, Stevens. It can't be that bad."

"Yes it can," I said stubbornly.

"You don't wanna suck my cock anymore?"

"No," I said defiantly, deliberately looking down so I wouldn't have to
meet his eyes.

"Hmmm, let's see about that."

The sound of a zipper made me look up. Dylan had unzipped his jeans and I
was staring right into the orange bulge in his underwear.

"Think again, gay boy," he said and grabbed a fistful of my hair. The grip
was firm but not painful, just hard enough to show who was in charge. He
pulled my face on his pelvis, my nose and mouth buried between the flaps of
his jeans.

Dylan's body was warm and the odor radiating from his underwear was
stronger than ever; he had just had sex and he hadn't changed his boxers
since the previous day. I breathed in through my nose and he chuckled
softly.

"Yeah, that's what I thought."

He let go of my hair but I kept my face pressed on the bulge of his
underwear -- just like he knew I would -- and breathed in his young
manhood. All my frustration and anger vaporized, and I wrapped my arms
around his waist to hold him close. I could have stayed there forever.

But he pushed my head back a bit and fished his cock out, letting it hang
out on top of his underwear, right in front of my face. Without thinking I
leaned in and pressed my lips on his rod. I kissed it gently, and as he
didn't pull away, I kissed it again, this time more passionately; after
that it felt just natural to kiss it over and over again.

"Yeah, get a taste of a real man, gay boy. You love that, dontcha?"

I was too busy to reply, but after a while he lifted my chin with his
finger and smiled.

"Feeling better?"

I looked at his handsome face and self-content smile.

"Yeah."

"Good," he said, tucked his cock back into his pants, zipped up and settled
down in the couch again.

"I need more OJ," he said, and I limped to the kitchen with my cock hard in
my pants.

He picked up another slice of pizza and spoke to me, while I poured more
juice into his glass.

"Lemme explain, Stevens."

He took a gulp of juice and burped.

"I'll put it this way," he started "We both know you're a fag, right?"

Dylan sure knew how to be considerate.

"Yeah."

"And we both know I'm not?"

"Of course."

"Good. Those are the facts, and that's the situation we gotta sort out
now."

He took another sip of juice.

"So, we're different. You have the hots for me, and you crave for my body
and my cock, but it's not mutual. And that's not gonna change. But that
doesn't mean we couldn't be..." He paused for a second to find the right
word. Please say friends, I begged silently.

"...pals."

"Pals can hang and play music and have fun. But there are certain things
you and me can't do together. Guy stuff, you know what I'm saying?"

I sighed.

"I know."

"So, we can be pals. But at some point a young guy smells pussy. And that's
when things change. The guy starts to think with his dick."

"I've seen that happen a couple of times," I said somewhat sourly.

"Hehe, yeah you sure have, man."

"But when a dude is thinking with his dick, can you really expect him to be
nice and polite to other guys?"

"Well... I guess not."

"Yeah, that's right. The guy can't be nice because the dick in his pants
that's doing all his thinking doesn't give a fuck about anybody's
feelings. So the guy just wants to get laid and he won't let anything get
in the way of that. And when he learns this pal of his has the house all to
himself, he takes it for granted that he can fuck the chick there. If the
other guy happens to be a homo... well he'll probably feel hurt. Maybe even
jealous. Just like you today, right?"

"Well... maybe just a little bit."

"Look Stevens, I'm not stupid. I saw it in your face the second we walked
in. I saw you were sad and hurt because I brought that chick to your
house. But that didn't stop me from taking her upstairs and fucking her
brains out in your bed. And yes, I knew it wasn't a nice thing to do. But
here comes the big question."

He paused and apparently expected me to say something.

"What's that?"

"Well, was it reasonable of you to expect me to care about your fucking
feelings, while a hot chick with a wet pussy is holding my hand and waiting
for me to fuck her?"

I thought about it for a while. I was starting to regret my behavior.

"I guess not. I should've known you were thinking with your dick."

"See? Now you're getting it. I know it doesn't feel right when a guy takes
advantage of you being so nice. But it can't be helped. I'm a poon hound
and I'm proud of it. And I'm not a nice guy when I smell pussy. So, can you
live with that, now that you understand it is just something I have to do?"

"Yeah. I can. Sure. Sorry I got so upset," I said, looking down.

"Apology accepted."

He put his plate aside and took out his phone.

"Now that we got this shit sorted out, lemme have a look at my schedule."

He browsed his calendar, frowning from time to time.

"Next week I'm busy as fuck but I think I can squeeze in a really long nice
blowjob. How's that, gay boy?"

"That would be awesome," I beamed.

"You like the idea? Then we're gonna do it, pal," he said extending his
fist and I bumped it with my own.

"Friday evening, six o'clock, my place."

He didn't ask if I was free then, but I didn't mind. I had promised to suck
him off whenever he wanted, and even if had something else to do at that
time, it couldn't have been more important than this.

"Okay."

"You're not gonna write that down?"

"No, I'll remember it."

"Haha, I bet you will. But one more thing, Stevens."

"Sure, what's that?"

"Like I said before, you kinda suck as a cocksucker!" He snickered at his
own pun.

"Now, I understand that it was your first time, man, but I really need you
to do better next time. Show me that you want to make me feel really,
really good. Can you do that for me?"

"I sure will try. I mean, yes."

He smiled and got up.

"Good. And remember the lip palm."

"Already bought some."

He chuckled.

"Good boy."

I followed him to the front door and watched as he fixed his hair in front
of the mirror.

"You don't mind me using your bedroom sometimes when you're folks are away,
do you?" He asked without turning to look at me.

I caught his eyes in the mirror and smiled.

"No, I don't mind. Just call first to be sure."

"Cool," he said and left.

I felt embarrassed for exploding like that in front of Dylan. Straight boys
could be cruel sometimes, and I had always been sensitive. I would just
have to accept his rudeness, even when it hurt. Kissing his warm cock had
felt amazing and I decided to do my best to make the next blowjob
unforgettable for him. I would practice taking more of his rod in. Maybe a
cucumber would be a good substitute for a dildo... or maybe a carrot?

I was so excited that I hurried to the kitchen and rummaged in the veggie
box. There were some carrots, but they were too small to match Dylan's
penis. I grabbed my hoodie, went out and jumped on my bike. It took me only
half an hour to ride to the grocery store, buy a few cucumbers and a bag of
carrots and rush back.

Back in my room I tried to fit some carrots in my mouth, but they were
either too thick or too thin. Besides, the skin of a carrot is coarse,
whereas the skin on Dylan's dick was smooth. I was delighted when one of
the cucumbers felt just right.

I sat at my desk and turned my laptop on. I knew exactly what I was looking
for: my favorite photo from our tour.

I clicked the thumbnail to open a larger version. The quality of the image
was very good. I just stared -- once again -- at the picture of Dylan
standing above the crowd, right at the edge of the stage, his shirtless
torso glistening of sweat, his legs spread, and the torn jeans showing off
his underwear and the skin of his thighs. His slim body was arched back,
pushing his pelvis towards the audience.

I moved the cucumber in and out of my mouth and imagined giving him
head. But something was wrong. The cucumber tasted and smelled like
cucumber, not like a horny young man's dick.

Then something flashed in my mind. I still had the condom! I took it out of
the drawer and sat back down on my desk with my hardon stretching my
underwear. I wiped my spit off the cucumber with some tissue and held the
tip of the condom up between my fingers. Then I pinched the rubber between
some paper tissue in order not to touch any pussy juice, and let my fingers
slide slowly downwards. In a second the pearly substance started to run out
and down on the cucumber. When I had squeezed it all out, I hid the rubber
in the drawer again.

I took my cock out and started to lick and suck the cucumber. The taste and
smell of Dylan's cum filled my world as I fucked my mouth with the cucumber
and drank in his image on the screen. The orgasm that followed was the best
of my life so far.

But it wasn't even nearly as good as the one I would get when serving Dylan
next time. That one I would never forget.

Want to read about Russ's next encounter with Dylan? Then drop me a line or
two:

bencoolen@protonmail.com