I made the drive home for Christmas Break that year. Endured a non-stop hour of my mother's patter “And did you know... And that's what I told him... And that's where you'll be... And that's how it goes.” I started looking for an exit—first from the room, then from the house, and finally from a town that had to make Trump's List of Designated Shit-Holes.
“Oh, I almost forgot! I need to get something from my car...” Then, I backed myself out of the room and the house. I drove halfway across town with a crazy Grinch-like thought dancing around my Ga-zooker. How much of an ass would I be if I ditched town altogether? But without even really thinking about it, I pulled off onto your street and stopped in front of your house. Of course we both knew I wasn't really coming to see you.
I rang the bell. You opened the door and stood there with a god-like grace. Jackie's little brother was no longer little.
Your eyes told me that you recognized me, and the first natural association that you could make would be your sister. Of course I had come to see Jackie.
“Hey, Ethan. Jackie's doing some shit downtown,” you said.
“Hey, Colton. Could tell her...” And before my message for your sister made it across my tongue, something happened with your face and eyes. You saw the long-sought solution to the quantum equation that had eluded you until that moment. Of course things fizzled out between Jackie and me, but as you looked me over, you finally saw the 'why' of it all.
You opened the door wider. “Why don't you come in...” And almost as an afterthought, “And wait for her?”
“Okay.” I wriggled through the narrow opening between your body and the doorjamb. You could've stepped back; you could have given me more room for passage. But you knew what you were doing. Close enough to smell your sweet scent. Close enough to feel your heat passing through your black tee. Close enough to hear your breath.
Your left hand, dangling loosely by your side, brushed ever-so-accidentally against my crotch. You didn't give any indication that something had happened, and I passed on through as if nothing had happened.
The door clicked shut behind me, and you appeared in the corner on of my eye—your gaze hanging on me.
“Take your coat?” You asked.
Turning to you, I slid my arms out of my leather bomber. I caught it by the collar and flung it at you. You caught it, folded it over your left arm, then looked at me with hunting eyes. “Fuck, Ethan.”
“You've been working out.” You stepped forward with your fist balled. You pounded softly on my chest, not really punching me—more like a carpenter testing a wall for sturdiness. One pec, then the other, and finally my stomach.
You did your best to come off as an athlete admiring my fitness. We both knew that wasn't all you were doing. You were testing more than my fitness.
You tossed my jacket to the couch, then yanked the bottom of my T-shirt up to my chest. You inspected my torso visually at first. You raised your chin until your eyes asked for permission. My mind jangled through a quick math problem, verifying that you were old enough. You were, so I nodded.
Like a blind potter, working your clay by feel, your hand moved over my torso, prodding and rubbing each muscle. We both knew by then that any pretense of athletic inspection was over. “Fuck, dude!”
“Well, fuck-dude you too.”
You smiled and prodded around the edge of my navel with your thumb. Then, you slipped the tip of your thumb into my navel. I gasped.
“Sorry,” you whispered.
Swimming in endorphins, my cheeks and my chest flashed warm. “It's okay.”
By then, you knew you had carte blanche. Once you've have your thumb inside a man's navel and he hasn't protested, he's not going to. You balled your fist again. Drummed a beat on my abs kneaded your way across my v-cut. Your knuckles bumped into my pubic bone. You held it there while you raised your eyes to mine.
A week earlier, I would have pulled away, maybe even shoved you. But I felt safe with you. I was hard for a reason, and for the first time in my life I was okay with it. Cherished it even. It meant I didn't have to stay bottled up anymore. I nodded, but I wasn't saying 'yes' to you only. I was saying 'yes' to me—this new me that wasn't really new at all. This me that had been away and was coming home for the first time.
You pressed with your knuckles at first, finding my hard shaft in my jeans. Then, the heel of your palm. I closed my arms around you. I collapsed into you. Kissed that groove where your shoulder meets your neck. Kissed your throat. Kissed that little groove where your jaw slips behind your ear. I kissed your earlobe and then opened my mouth around your entire ear. Desiring to be inside of you—to explore you the way a miner explores a cave—I wiggled my tongue into your ear canal.
You let out a moan. “Where have you been all these years?”
You fumbled with the button of my jeans until it popped open.
You tilted your head until your ear slipped from my mouth. You turned your chin toward mine until our lips met.
You struggled with my zipper. I lowered my hand to help you. Wiggling and twisting, it inched lower, until you slid your hand inside and lifted my pouch out of my jeans.
“Goddamn, dude!” You gasped as the head of my cock poked over the elastic band of my underwear.
“What are you 'goddamning' about?”
You looked at me incredulously. “You're a fucking monster.”
“Oh, get out of here with that shit!”
Then, you have me that look. Pleading. Hungry. “Do ya mind if I suck you off?”
You glanced at the door. Then the clock. I saw the calculation you were making. Jackie could return at any time.
“Come with me.” You grabbed a hold of my dick in the same way you might grab someone's wrist. You squeezed me hard. If I had been a banana, the peel would have broken and I would have oozed between your fingers. Instead, I remained arrested within your warm hand—throbbing as you pulled me toward your room.
With my jeans around my ankles, I waddled along with you. You pulled me into a bedroom, and pushed me down on the bed. You slung the door shut behind you.
I finished kicking off my jeans. Then my underwear.
You peeled off your tee, and then it was my turn to say “fuck, dude.” My eyes saw what my hands had felt. You weren't the scrawny little guy I had known. Ripped and chiseled, you were like a marble statue.
I tore off my T-shirt, while you unbuttoned your cargo shorts. They fell to the floor, and since you were going commando, your cock sprang up at once. I looked you and all your beauty. You were the first guy to ever undress for me. And though I had seen hard cocks in pornos, yours was the first I had ever seen that was hard for me.
I made a come-to-me gesture with my fingers, and you shuffled to the edge of the bed. I wasn't ready for you to suck me off. There were too many new things. I wanted to feel your cock. Your balls. Your ass.
My cock was longer than yours, but our girth was the same. Your balls boggled my mind. They filled my palm as I cupped them. They felt so heavy and full.
“Squeeze me,” you said.
I closed my grip.
I squeezed a little tighter.
I pumped my hand, and you let out a groan.
“Don't be. Such a thin line between pain and pleasure.”
I rolled forward on the bed until your cock was an inch from my face. I kissed it. Looked up into your eyes. “I need to taste you.”
You nodded. I grabbed your staff like it was a flagpole and I was an astronaut laying claim to you. I slid the head of your cock between my lips and felt your glans against my tongue. My face tingled and my lips stretched around your dick.
You leaned toward me as I just to you and slid you further into my mouth. I relaxed my throat.
My eyes watered as your head brushed against my tonsils. I drew a deep breath, forcing myself to relax.
“Aww....” You shuddered “So good. So, so good.”
I reached around you and squeezed your cheeks with my hands. Felt the heat of you. The firmness. The roundness.
When I slid my head back, your cock plopped out.
“That's good for now,” you said. Lifted my hands from your knees and crouched beside the bed. “It's my turn.”
You dropped to your knees and took my cock like a magic wand. Thumped it against your cheek. Your chin. You nose. Then you slipped my shaft into your mouth, and I knew in that instant that everything I heard was true. Men are a hundred times better at sucking dick.
I nearly melted inside of you as I slipped into utter bliss. Nearly drunk with endorphins and adrenaline, stars swirled over me.
You reached up and felt my butt. Slipped your thumb into my crack and gently massaged as you sucked on me. When you sensed that I was near the edge, you backed off. Slid my cock out of your mouth.
“Relax, a second.” You lifted my legs onto the bed and then rose from the floor. You stepped over to your night stand.
“Where ya goin?”
You opened a drawer, pulled out a tube of tube, and greased your finger. “I want you inside of me.”
“Inside of you?”
You reached your finger behind you and wiggled it into your ass. Without saying anything further, it dawned on me what you meant.
“Is that okay?” You asked.
“It's... more than okay.”
You crawled onto the bed. Planted your foot by my hip. Stretched across me and planted your other foot by my other hip. Your hands cupped my pecs as you steadied yourself. You squatted and crouch from this weird sumo stance. Your greased hole moved closer to my pole.
You reached your left hand to my dick and separated your cheeks with it. You shimmied lower until I slipped inside of you.
“We'll have to go slow,” you said. “You're bigger than you realize.”
You controlled the pace, rising and lowering, like a cowboy in his saddle. The whole room felt liquid and light. It could melt away and drip down into the center of the earth. You moved gradually faster. Up and down, up and down, up and down... up, down, up, down. And then everything inside of me let loose. We froze in one final thrust, as I lost my load inside of you.
You collapsed on top of me. You rested your head again my chest. I clasped your head with my hand.
We stayed like that for the longest time. Glued together by ecstasy and cum. As our heartbeats slowed, drowsiness set in. Without really meaning to, I drifted off to sleep.
The next thing I heard was a knock on your bedroom door. “Colton.”
My eyes blinked open. The doorknob rattled, and I heard Jackie's voice. “Oh, thank God!”
I looked over at her. She looked pretty much the same as she did in high school. Maybe her hair was different. I couldn't tell if she was angry or surprised.
You were still asleep—your body half tangled with mine. Your head against my chest.
“Sorry, Jackie,” was all I could think to say.
“What the fuck for?”
“No, no... Fuck all of that. Colton's a good guy. And even when you don't think so, you're a good guy. And this...” She held out her hands for lack of a proper word. “This makes sense. So much more than we ever did.”
“I really didn't know, Jackie.”
“Ethan, it's okay. Really. How long are you in town?”
“Well, I was going to stay through Christmas, but my mom was bugging the shit out of me. So, I don't know.”
And that's when you woke up. You slid your hand across my chest, over my neck, and stroked my chin. You felt for my lips. Caressed them with your thumb.
“You better fucking stay,” you muttered. “Stay for Christmas.”