Chapter 8

It's Now or Never

I slowly drove around the circle of the cul de sac maybe three or four times (I lost count) while wrestling with my immediate future.  I had a decision to make and, a hindrance to thinking clearly, an erection from all of the making out.  Should I just drive home or should I park and see what happens?  A continuous tally of pros and cons flowed through my mind as I was driving around and around that circle.  I decided that a man wrestling with his conscience shouldn’t be behind the wheel of a vehicle in motion, so I pulled off into the dirt parking area while I tried to figure it out.  Finally I came to a realization:  With everything that happened that night, I was setting things up.  Now it was time to close the deal.  If I didn’t act now, this opportunity may never come again.  Plus I already had the car parked.  So I uneasily set out on foot for the side of the house although I wasn’t sure what I should be looking for.

I quietly walked up the driveway and across the grass to the left side of the house.  I stood in the dark for a few seconds when I heard a click above me.  I saw a head, neck, and a pair of shoulders poking out and a familiar voice said, “Oh there you are.  Where did you go?”

“I—uh—took the scenic route,“ I whispered up.

“Alright, hold on,” came the response.

There was a bit of rummaging around up at window level, and then something dropped down—a rope ladder!  “Here climb up,” he said.  I walked up to the ladder and examined it a bit—yellow molded plastic stairs supported by nylon ropes.

“Hmm, is this thing safe?” I quietly asked.  “Let’s see…do you weigh 200 lbs or less?” came the answer.

“I should hope so,” I said.  “Then, according to the packaging, you should be perfectly safe,” he replied.

So I tested it by stepping on the lowest step.  It seemed safe enough, so I started my slow ascent up the steps.  I figured even if I did fall, it wasn’t much higher than 15 or 20 feet and it was over grass, so I’d stand a pretty good chance of surviving.  When I got to the top, I grabbed the windowsill and proceeded to haul myself in.  That’s when Parker grabbed the back of my belt and pulled.  I came flying in through the window knocking him over and we both fell on the floor in a giggling heap trying to stifle our laughter.

“Shhh.  Mom fell asleep on the sofa, so she won’t know I came home so late.  I left my coat on the kitchen chair so she’ll know I’m home,” he whispered in between protracted giggles.

“Yeah but she won’t know I’m home too,” I added.

“Don’t worry, she’s sound asleep.  And if she wakes up, she’ll see my jacket and go to bed.”

I got up and looked around the room.  I kind of expected posters and such, but there were none.  It was actually pretty spartan.  There was a bed, a desk and chair set with some school books on it, a cloth chair in one corner, two good sized bureaus side by side with a few trophies on them, a framed map reprint of the old world (circa 1690) hanging near the bed, a shadow box with photos on another wall, a closet with sliding wooden doors, and a pretty good-sized bed.

“So what are the trophies for?” I asked.

“Swimming.”

“Oh you must be pretty good.  They don't give out trophies like that for just showing up.”

“I guess I’m an above average swimmer.” 

 “And who is your decorator?” I asked.

“Why, what’s wrong with it?”

“Oh I get it, you’re a neat freak, right?”

“Well…yeah a little bit, I guess.”

“It’s just that I’ve never been in a gay boy’s room before,” I teased.  “I had no idea what to expect.”

“Oh yeah, well I already put away all the gay porn, the whips and chains, and dildos.  You know, being a neat freak and all.”  We both laughed.

“So are you going to come over here and sit down on the bed or just stand there and insult my decorating taste all night?” he continued.

I sat down leaving some space between us.  “So…,” I said running my hand across the comforter, “this is where all the action happens, huh?”

“Action?  The only action this bed has seen has been between me, myself, and I,” he replied.

“You mean, you don’t have guys climbing up a rope ladder to your room every night?” I teased him.

“No,” he laughed, “you are the first.  The rope ladder is actually if there’s a fire.”

“Oh, there’s a fire?” I joked.

He leaned over and pulled a lighter from an ashtray on the shelf of his headboard, lit it, and smiled.

“Well I’m honored to be the first.  I do wish I had a bed this size though.  The beds in the dorms are so small and uncomfortable,” I confessed.

“It’s a queen size.  How appropriate, huh?”

I stared at him blankly.

“A queen bed for a queen,” he explained.

“Oh…well you’re hardly a queen.”

“Don’t kid yourself.  All gay boys are queens; some just show it more.  Take me for example, I’m a size queen.”

“A what?” I asked.

“Never mind, I’ll explain that later.  Why don’t you take off your shoes and make yourself more comfortable,” he instructed as he removed his black Chuck Taylors and tossed them on the floor revealing a pair of white socks.  “You can sit closer, you know.  I don’t bite…unless you’re into that.  Then I might have to consider it.”

I shook my head and he bent down and pulled the laces of my sneakers free.  I followed his lead and flipped my shoes off near his to reveal my equally white socks.

He leaned over and placed his hand on my right thigh and said, “I really like these pants on you, especially the little rip…and the butt.”

“I bet you drive the girls crazy with a butt like that,” he continued.

“And apparently some boys, too,” I replied with a smirk.

I had my favorite pair of Guess jeans on (hey, they were all the rage back then) and they had developed a 2-inch rip over the right knee.  All of my other jeans were Levis.  I could never get Levis to rip, which goes to demonstrate the long-standing quality of the brand.  But damn, those Guess jeans sure looked good in the butt…if you have a good butt to show off, that is.

“In case you’re wondering, this is an honest to goodness rip from usage, not a store-bought rip,” I explained.

He took his index finger and traced the shape of the rip against the skin on my leg.  It tickled a little and I squirmed.  Then he stuck his index finger completely inside the rip and began to swirl it around the bare skin on my leg.

Our eyes met.  He moved closer, and the next thing I knew, his lips were on mine again.  Our mouths became one space with two tongues for the next 10 minutes or so.  People call it “sucking face,” but I found very little of the face involved.  It was unlike anything I’d experienced before.  His mouth was surprisingly juicy and sweet like a plum at peak ripeness.

No female ever kissed like this!  This boy has either had a lot of practice or he’s truly gifted.  Or maybe it’s just our sexual chemistry.

“Are you cold?” he asked.

“No, why?”

“Because you’re shaking.”

“Oh, I guess I’m a little out of my element here.  This is against so many things I’ve been taught and so many things I know to be a certain way,” I explained.

“Don’t worry,” he began, “new things take some getting used to…like the first day at a new school.”

“I know, it’s not that I don’t want to.”

“That’s OK.  I’ll help you overcome your stage fright.”

He pushed me down onto my back on his bed.  I was in his world now, so I dutifully let him go about his work.  I certainly was not going to complain.  We continued making out as he unbuttoned my shirt.  I never had my nipples sucked before and he spent time on each, licking the tip, rolling around it in a circular motion, and gently nibbling on it periodically.  I felt waves of pleasure shooting down to my crotch.  I was soon at full attention downstairs, and it wasn’t long before he discovered my secret.

He kissed his way down to my flat stomach and then down to my belt buckle.  The bulge just beyond it gave me away.  He removed the shirt that still hung open on my shoulders and tossed it onto the floor.  He then undid my belt, button, and zipper while giving my bulge a little squeeze followed by a “Mmmm” to proclaim his approval.  We worked in tandem trying to get my jeans off.  He finally decided to get up, go to the foot of the bed, and pull from the bottom of the legs.  This method worked well.  The pants ended up on the floor on top of my shirt.  Then his hands de-socked me in a single swift move.

There I lay on my back in only my briefs.  I was at full mast with the head of my bishop sticking out beyond the waistband.  He looked like a boy opening a Xmas gift as he pulled the briefs down and everything I owned was on display.

“Wow,” he said wrapping his hand around my member.  “It’s huge!” he exclaimed.  After examining it like a prized possession, he added, “And it’s so handsome…just like its owner.”

“It’s not that big.  Can’t say I’ve had any complaints though,” I offered.

“Well, it’s the biggest I’ve ever had.”

“Had?  What does he mean by had,” I wondered to myself.

I found out seconds later as my manhood disappeared into his mouth and eventually down his throat.  I must say the sounds of him sucking, slurping, gagging, and choking were unexpectedly a big turn on.

So I waited a while then said, “Hey, are you alright down there?”

He slid his mouth off of me to respond.  He caught his breath, swallowed, and said,
“What—are you kidding?  This is insane!”  I guessed that meant he was enjoying it and he went right back to work.

“Well I don’t want you to injure yourself the first day on the job,” I joked.

After fighting it off for a good 15 minutes, I felt my climax quickly approaching, so I grabbed his head between my hands to stop him from continuing.  He looked at me puzzlingly.

“I’m about to come, but I don’t want to shoot just yet.  You still have your clothes on.”

That seemed to snap him to his senses.  He looked at himself and said, “Oh.”  He was so involved with his work that it was just then he realized he hadn’t even removed anything.  I simply figured it was bad manners for me to get off while he was still clothed.

He stood up and walked over to the cloth chair in the corner near the closet.  He pulled the T-shirt up over his head, his hair fell back into place, and he tossed the shirt over the back of the chair.  He removed his socks and went for his belt.  He pulled and his jeans dropped to the floor.  He folded them, leaned over placing them on the seat of the chair, and stood back up.

“Wait, don’t move,” I said in a yelled whisper.

“Wha—what’s wrong,” he said in anxious response.

“Nothing’s wrong.  Look down.  You must be planning on going camping sometime soon because you’ve pitched quite a tent there.”

He looked down and giggled at his state of affairs.  He was wearing boxers, and his dick was sticking straight out, only the waistband and a thin layer of cloth prevented it from climbing further.  So he gave me a couple of quick profile poses so I could enjoy the view.

“That’s impressive,” I said in response.  “You should walk around like that all the time.”

“I do,” he wise-cracked.  “It’s just usually hidden under my pants.”

He removed the boxers and his tent pole sprang up and pointed at the ceiling.  He walked the few steps to the bed with his hard-on bouncing up and down on the way.  He stopped at the side of the bed and I asked, “Can I see the back, too?”  He turned around and I saw what looked like two flesh-colored grapefruits side by side.  It was literally perfect.  There are very few butts in the world that could garner a perfect 10, his set was one of them.

“Wow, nice,” I managed to say.

Wow was right.  Those buns could hang on a wall in the Louvre or should be carved into marble so future generations could bear witness to their perfection.  But for tonight at least, they were for my eyes (and hands) only.

He turned around once again and I certainly had no complaint about the front.  He moved right up to the edge of the bed displaying his crotch rocket, and like a magnet, my hand was drawn to it.  Where my 8” was serious business, his 6” flagpole was no less capable of inflicting some damage.

I wrapped my hand around it and examined it.  His manhood was as perfect as he was.  The shape was perfect, smooth with decent thickness, and not a blemish to be seen.  I began pulling on it and on each upstroke something felt different.  I closely inspected the next upstroke and I noticed something was filling my palm—a foreskin!

“Oh my God, you’re uncut!” I blurted out.

“Um, yeah.  Is that OK?” he asked hoping it wasn’t a deal breaker.

“OK?  It’s more than OK.  I think it’s awesome.  I wish I was uncut,” I confessed.

“Well, most guys, at least in this country, are cut like you,” he instructed.

“Yeah, I know.  But when did it become OK to cut off a piece of someone for no good reason?  But everyone wants junior to look just like dad, so they keep on with it,” I lamented.

“I dunno, I’m kind of used to seeing cut ones, so it’s fine with me either way,” he replied.  “But the one thing that really turns me on is a big dick, like yours.  Not Guinness Book freakishly big, but you know, regular big.”

“So you’re cool with me being uncut?” he followed up.

“Totally,” I said in response.

When he was erect, his foreskin retracted all the way, so it was nearly impossible to tell he was uncircumcised until you actually did an examination with the hands.  In the medical field, I believe they call it palpation, and I was happy to palpate him repeatedly.  I proceeded to play with his penis and foreskin like it was a new toy I’d discovered.  I’d never seen an uncut dick this close up before, let alone be allowed to play with one.

He sat back down so we were finally both fully unclothed on the bed.  It was “fun with foreskin” time.  I touched my finger, my tongue, and finally the tip of mine to his and pulled the foreskin forward to cover whatever I placed in front of it.

I couldn’t resist, I had to try taking him in my mouth.  I had never sucked a dick before in my life, but we were both still visibly excited, so I decided to go for it.  I tried to replicate what he did to me earlier and I muddled my way through it.  The head of his cock was smooth, slick, and warm as I ran my tongue over it.  Near his pee hole, I could detect little abrasions that were only discernible with the tip of my tongue.  Those abrasions were sure testament to some of his recent “me, myself, and I” time.  I worked and worked on as much as I could get in my mouth.  Then I kept trying to deep throat him, but my gag reflex was in full working order and wouldn’t allow it for long.

He suddenly stopped my head with his hands and said, “Now I’m about to come, but I don’t want to shoot yet.”

He was lying down at this point and I was down between his legs, so I moved up so that I was lying flat on top of him.  We began making out again.  Then I asked, “Am I crushing you?”

He groaned, “A little bit.”  So I wrapped my arms around him and rolled pulling him on top.

“Better?” I asked.  “Yeah, but aren’t I crushing you now?” he replied.

“No, this is good.”

We began grinding our weapons together between us.  That felt sooooo good, so we kept it going to its conclusion.  He pulled me back on top while he finished first.  With gravity helping, most of it was deposited on his stomach.  I wasn’t far behind, so I lifted myself up and aimed for his stomach.  Suddenly, a white laser beam shot from my manhood clearing his stomach and his chest and collided with the right side of his face between the cheek and ear.

“Whoa!” he said excitedly.

“Holy shit!” I thought to myself.  I’ve always been a shooter, but I can’t ever remember getting distance like that before.

Four shots followed, each losing a little distance hitting him at points between the base of the throat and the sternum.  As I shook and squeezed out the remaining drops, I looked down at the mess we’d made.  His cream was thicker and whiter than mine, so I could tell who belonged to each puddle.

“Wow, that was a magnum load!” he said surveying the damage.  “Can you grab that towel over there?” he said pointing to the towel hanging on the doorknob of the closet.

I got up, walked to the closet, grabbed the towel, and handed it to him.  Then I grabbed my clothes and started to dress.

“Hey, I thought you were sleeping over,” he said.

“Oh, well I wasn’t sure if you meant the ‘sleep overnight’ kind of sleepover or the ‘sleep with you and then leave’ sleepover,” I explained.

“I was kind of planning on you staying,” he clarified.

“OK, that’s what I was hoping, but I didn’t want to assume,” I responded.

“Well, put those clothes down and get back in here,” he said lifting the covers.

“So, is your mother going to be here in the morning?” I queried.

“If we snuck you in, we can sneak you out,” he said confidently.

I slid back under the covers, he wrapped himself around me, and we rolled around a bit until we found a good sleeping position.  I was fully on my back and Parker was on his side right up against me and a little on top of me.  I wrapped myself around him and he around me.  He was warm, smooth, and soft...and he smelled nice.  Not an overpowering cologne kind of smell, but a fresh “just showered” kind of scent.  We fit together perfectly like two pieces of a two-piece puzzle.  It didn’t take long before I was asleep.  There’s nothing like a good round of sex to induce sleep.

© 2014 Rip Skor