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Stake My Life On It

By Chris Carr

Copyright 01/11/2011





I was putting lip gloss on Andre's soft, bilious lips. He lay quietly, a look of indifference on his face but I paid it no attention because his heart lay just under my left arm and I could feel it thumping excitedly in his scant chest. His rigid dick bobbled idly, just south of my elbow but he maintained that look of apathy.

"Does nothing for me," His face seemed to insist, right on up to when his anxious dick would explode, lobbing heavy rosettes of abundant cum into the air.

I painted the shiny substance across his lips, my face inches from his as I worked. He lay quietly, staring up off into the distance, his heart still doing that loud pounding beneath my arm. That insouciance that amazed me in the beginning, held little sway over me now, my utter attraction to him more powerful than my fascination.

Andre excited me like no other and I was a helpless victim of his allure. He captivated me, ensnaring me in his mystifying stranglehold. Those eyes, the veiled windows to his soul, temptingly soft yet annoyingly mischievous. Were they really saying no or was it just a pretense to what ticked away inside?

He yawned, his lips parting to reveal his slight overbite. I stopped, glancing down at his thin, graceful form. His skin smooth, he looked like a boy in early pubescence, despite his 17 years. Passing my hand across his hairless chest, I gently caressed a nipple until it responded, standing briskly at attention. His dick twitched, bobbling up and down several times, a clear pearl of anxious juice oozing out.





"I like girls," He'd told me, that first night. We'd talked for some time, the conversation meandering from the superficial to matters of the heart. With all my coercing, he was unwilling to admit a same sex attraction of any kind.

"Ain't never did nothin' with no dude and don't want to either," He said, those eyes glancing at me then darting away.

Andre never really looked you in the eye, even when he was talking about "Lord of the Rings" or Mac computers, his favorites. Granting the occasional glance, he'd quickly look away, adding to that air of mystique. Was it because what he said couldn't be trusted, that maybe he was holding something back?

He was very passionate about computers, especially Macs. If you owned anything other than a Mac, you were operating way beneath your potential, as far as Andre was concerned. It was how I got him to open up, to respond with something more than those monosyllabic answers.






Quiet once more, he picked at his fingers, hands raised high above his head as I resumed coating his lips. Soon they shone with the glossy liquid, the very idea of something so utterly feminine stirring great waves of desire in me. I stopped, appreciating my work and how it accentuated the subtle curves. My dick uncomfortably hard beneath me, I couldn't resist kissing him, interrupting his idle dawdling just enough for him to look down.

Blinking, he offered no response at first. Then, almost imperceptibly, his mouth parted, allowing my tongue to slip inside. Tenderly, it swathed about his sweet orifice, our tongues dancing back and forth. His heartbeat accelerated even faster, pounding at his ribs beneath me while his respirations quickened.

I savored the sweet gloss, bursting in my mouth, my tongue dueling with his now. Panting through our noses, we consumed each other, Andre's tongue finding mine then mine finding his, lovingly flicking it.

A small whimper escaped him, his body shuddering beneath me. He stared at me, those large, round eyes of his holding me, his gaze unfettered in the heat of passion. Then his hands found me, grazing tentatively about my ears his fingers searching, caressing. They played in my hair then feathered down the base of my skull until he wrapped his lanky arms around my neck and squeezed.

I embraced him, straddling him, our dicks mashing against each other. Deeply kissing him, I thrust my hips, squeezing both our dicks together. His arms holding me in a passionate hug, he shuddered, his eyes squeezing closed as his dick leapt beneath me. I felt his powerful eruptions, violent spumes of wetness gushing between us, then I shook, my flow leaping to join his, our bodies writhing wildly against each other, struggling to squeeze every last droplet of cum from our balls.

Going limp beneath me, Andre's eyes remained closed, withdrawing once again into his cocoon of indifference. Picking up the bottle of gloss once more, I slowly, methodically reapplied, my dick hardening again.






I saw him first at Richard and Gloria's garden party. Among the ferns and fragrant calla lilies I spotted those soft, inquisitive doe eyes. A young Hispanic girl clung to his arm, visions of weddings and white dancing in her eyes. He slinked effortlessly between the rich growth, his slender form easily navigating the close quarters.

A long look of questioning scrutiny was all he permitted but I felt a rush so strong, I was at once smitten. Who was this boy and was he "family"? The girl said something to him and he moved further away, ducking his dreadlocked hair beneath a low hanging branch to disappear behind a wall of bamboo.

I saw him again at Cameron's pool party. The girl suspiciously absent, our shared glances throughout the afternoon stood me on the very summit of exhilaration. Maybe he truly was "family" and this was my lucky day. But he remained aloof, practically avoiding me that entire day.

On a rainy day not long after that, I was en route to my girlfriend Tina's house when I spotted him trotting through the downpour. "Wanna ride?" I offered, pulling over. He cast a cautious glance up the block, then finally opened the door.






I believe it's his obstinance that makes me do the things I do. His blank expressions, like the way he stared off into space as I played with his dick that first time. With the unbuttoning of that first button it was as if he was challenging me, daring me to get a response.

We'd talked for some time about his sexual preference as I struggled to understand his obvious attraction pitted against his stated orientation.

"Never had a dude suck you off?" He shook his head no, a smug smirk on his face. "Not even compared dicks or just jacked off with a dude?" Again he shook his head no. "And you haven't been curious?" Another shake.

"Told you, I like girls," He insisted.

"Was that your lady at the garden party?" He nodded his head yes, his eyes lighting up as if to suggest, "now you're getting it". Wondering how he'd explain his need to be here with me, an obviously gay man, I held my tongue, afraid it'd cause him to flee.

Seated opposite my dining room table, we regarded each other for some time in silence, Andre tossing those begrudging glances while I stared unabashedly. It was making him uncomfortable but he refused to acknowledge that. Did Andre know how I longed for him... pined for him... ached for him? Did he know how weak he made me, how clumsily befuddled? Was he drawn to that yearning, unknowingly enjoying it?

My heart in my throat, I reached across the table and enclosed his delicate hands in mine. He stared at them, seemingly summing up his reaction but, in the end, made none, instead retreating into what would become his customary stance of impassiveness. He'd stated his position and intended to stand by it, regardless how improbable.

I caressed his long, graceful fingers, passing them slowly through my hands. His eyes no longer wandering, I found that, when stimulated, they tended to focus on the object of his affection. Staring emptily at our entwined hands, he made no reaction when I moved my chair closer, my hands traveling up his arms.

An obvious bulge had developed in his pants but his very posture and appearance insisted this wasn't of interest to him. Without barely an acknowledgement, he sat through my ministrations, his laissez-faire positioning reason for me to do what I'd dare not before. In no time I'd removed all of his outer clothing, leaving him nothing but the pants he'd walked through the door in, and I imagined, his shorts.

To my surprise, however, I soon discovered he wore no underwear. Laying passively on my bed, he stared at me, his eyes almost suggesting that this was a waste of time as I pulled his pants over his bare, slender feet. He'd wiggled his toes in the most seductive way when I'd pulled his socks off in the kitchen and now I couldn't resist brushing the back of my had against his exposed, upturned soles. His toes curled, folding down on his wrinkled soles. He gazed at me from between his feet, those big eyes inquisitive once more.




Is there something truly evocative embodied in something as simple as a glance? Could we be investing such a simple act with tons more than its implications? Can you really establish something as complicated as one's orientation or attraction with a simple fleeting look?

I'd staked my life, many times on just that probability and so it was that day at the garden party. In that brief moment, when our eyes first met a connection was made. He knew and I did too but we let it linger between us, hovering above the lilies like a pair of lovesick bees.

At Cameron's pool party I'd caught him frequently eyeing me. Those looks were heavy, impregnated with inquiry and enticement. Looks I've seen on many occasions, in some of the most unlikely places. When he looked up the street that day in the rainstorm, I should've been more attentive. Sometimes, it's the most obvious looks we overlook.





His dick throbbed above his belly, buoyed by his extreme excitement. I tossed the pants aside and joined him on the bed. He watched my every move, his face noncommittal, even as I stroked my hand tenderly over his smooth chest.

I gazed at his face then down at his lithe form, my heart thundering in my ears. His dick bobbled in midair, dipping and twitching more as my hand neared. It literally jumped when I slipped my hand up around it.

Andre watched, his glare intense but still allowing nothing. His dick flopped back and forth so much, I lost grip of it several times. His toes flicked and wiggled, curling wickedly when I bent low and engulfed his hard inches in my mouth.

Still, his face gave no indication this was of any interest. How he maintained that look of detachment was beyond me but in no time, I was witness to an ejaculation like none I'd seen before. At its peak, he closed his eyes, his stomach quavering while his toes wiggled and danced. His dick raised up from his groin well over a forty-five degree angle and the head swelled disproportionately, causing it to shine.

Recoiling like a mighty mortar, it snapped upward, propelling a fiery dart of boy juice high into the air. The smallest manipulation instantly provoking another volley, it sailed above his head to collide with the backboard. Andre lay quietly, his eyes traveling idly between his exploding cannon and my eyes. Remarkable control, I'd say or just insipid obstinance.






The same can be said for the first time we fucked. Once he knew where I stayed, he became a frequent visitor. Or was it, once he knew I wouldn't question his orientation?

Almost every visit culminated in sex, regardless to how we danced around the issue. Andre loved talking to me about movies, computers and life in general. In those quiet conversations, I realized that his air of indifference was more a personality trait than a stance. Andre's whole approach to life was so laissez-faire, it could've easily been mistaken for arrogance. Nothing seemed to move him though he was passionate about many things.

He'd granted me access to more of his unacknowledged sexuality since that first time, almost relishing the times we'd engage. But when I'd ventured to lave not only his taut, boy orbs but below them, edging ever closer to his twitching pinhole, the old Andre returned. Cold and indifferent, he lay like a stuffed doll as I raised his legs for better access.

Staring into space, he blinked infrequently as I lapped at his quivering entrance. Were it not for his bobbing joystick, his performance would've been very convincing. But I'd learned Andre and knew that his expressions were not a true measure of his level of engagement. Even as I slipped a condom on my excited erection, he offered no hint to his true feelings.

Figuring that holding his legs up could prove cumbersome, I turned him over. He actually raised his head to look over his shoulder as I poured copious amounts of lube between his pillowy cheeks.

I massaged the liquid about his hot hole, then dabbed my finger inside. Andre lowered his head but made no protests. When I got over him, my rigid dick inches from his tight opening, he stared at it like a cornered animal. Only once did he look up at me, holding me with those big brown eyes as my dick popped his opening.

His gaze returned to his penetrated orifice as more than half my dick lay inside him now. He emitted a small gasp when I proceeded further, his eyes widening but made no movements to extract me. I reached beneath him, finding his achingly hard dick with my hand. It swelled in my grip, extending to wicked rigidity.

"Don't," he whispered and immediately I realized he was extremely close.

"You feel good," I whispered.

He said nothing, still staring between his cheeks. I pushed deeper and, to my surprise, he raised his ass until I sunk home. We lay like that for some time, body to body, my wicket ensconced in his warm tunnel. He looked forward, his hands folded passively in front of him.

I raised up, peering between us at our wondrous union. My dick disappearing between his twin mounds, I felt it twitch inside the moist cavern. I lay atop him again, sliding magnificently back inside him. He lay quietly, his head upraised, his hands still folded. I wanted so badly to reach beneath him and feel his anxious dick. To be given some sign this was as incredible to him as it was to me but didn't.

My pace increasing, I held him tight, nuzzling his ears with my lips. He brushed his face against mine as we fucked, his eyes closed. I was raising my hips to withdraw clear to the head of my dick with each thrust but Andre never whimpered, yelped or groaned. His snug opening gripped me like a vice careening me swiftly over the edge.

I looked back, hoping that maybe his toes would let me know if he was about to blow but his feet lay just as passive as the rest of him. Then I felt him shudder and that was all I needed.

Sinking all my length in to the balls, I felt his asshole clamp down around my tube. My body quivered and I groaned and wailed like a stuck pig as his tight aperture snatched at my cumsicle, ringing the very cum from it.

Andre looked over his shoulder again, gazing between us for some glimpse of what was happening but we were too close, our bodies enmeshed. He shuddered several more times, his round eyes blinking as I emptied inside of him. Not until I saw the huge pool of thick cum beneath him did I realize how stimulated he'd been.






As I lay here, reapplying a rich coat of clear lip gloss on his lips, I'm thankful he's here. Not long after that first fuck, I'd discovered just how close I'd come to losing him. Mentioning my best friend Tina, he calmly informed me that he knew her.

"That's where I was coming from that day you picked me up," He explained.

"How do you know her?" I asked, suddenly alarmed.

"That's my mom's best friend."

"Brenda? You mom's Brenda?"

He nodded, then took a sip from his soda. Had he known all along I was one of the girls? That I hung with Tina and Brenda all the time? And was this good-bye?

"She know?" I asked. He sat his soda down, his face calm, then nodded yes.

"And... she's cool?" Another nod.

Andre's lips looks so sexy with lip gloss, I get another idea. That package of panties I'd bought for Tina would do fine, I thought, hopping off the bed to retrieve them. He watched me, curious, but said nothing when I returned, even as I worked a pair up his long slender legs.