Chapter 12

Pepperoni It Is Then

When we arrived back at the house, Parker’s mom had gone out.  She left a $20 bill and a note that read:  “Went out with Bill.  Get yourself a large pizza delivered for dinner with the $20.  See if Matthew will help you eat it.”

“Who’s Bill?” I asked

“Oh, he’s my mom’s boyfriend.  They both work at the hospital and they are both divorced.  He said his wife had bi-polo disease.”

“Do you mean bi-polar disease?” I asked.

“Yeah, that’s it.  He said his ex-wife went crazy too many times and wouldn't go to a shrink.  He seems like an OK guy,” he said.

We were both tired and just crashed on the couch.  With all the walking that day, it wasn’t long before we both nodded off.

I was awakened when I felt someone gently tapping on my forehead.  It was Parker.

“Hey sleepy head, what kind of pizza do you want?  I’m about to call in our order.”

“I pretty much like all types of pizza,“ I said as I was waking up.  “But my favorite is boy’s lips pizza.”  I pulled Parker down on me and we kissed for a few minutes.

“No seriously, what kind do you want?” he asked his eyes sparkling at me.

“Parker, get whatever you want and I’ll eat it,” I answered.

“Gee, are you always this easy to please?”

“Well, you should know.”

“OK, pepperoni and mushroom it is then,” Parker said with a grin as he picked up the phone and ordered the pizza.

“It will be about 40 minutes,” he announced hanging up the phone

“Whatever are we going to do for 40 minutes?"  I asked sensing something was about to transpire.

“How about…if I…TICKLE YOU INTO SUBMISSION!” he said as he lunged for me and I was too slow to evade his grasp.

He was on top of me tickling his little fingers off, and I was a hysterically laughing, wiggling mess.  He inexplicably discovered one of my weaknesses.  At first I let him tickle me because it was cute.  Then after maybe 10 minutes of this, my sides began to ache from laughing so hard.  So I had to take action.

Back in high school, I was forced to take wrestling in PE class as a freshman.  It was a requirement and I hated every minute of it.  But I did learn a few moves.  So I tried a grab and roll move and I had him pinned in a flash.

“Now you’re going to get it!” I said growling for effect.

“Are you going to choke me with that big cock of yours?” he asked expectantly.

“No, you’ve been naughty.  Now it's time to be punished,” I said.

I grabbed his belt buckle and undid it.  Then I unbuttoned his pants and unzipped his fly.

He said, “Oh, I think I’m going to like this punishment.”

I pulled his pants and underwear down, bent him over the hassock, held him down, and began spanking him.  He started laughing and eventually said, “What are you a queer or something?”

I said, “Rule #1:  Never taunt your captor.”  And I increased the intensity of my slaps.

“Ow!” he kept yelling and laughing as I left big red handprints on his round, white buttocks.

I began slapping any area that was still white to give it all a nice fiery glow.

“Uh oh, now you’ve done it,” he blurted out.

“What?” I asked letting him up.

“Look!” he said turning around on his knees with his pants still down.  He was—what’s the expression —in full bloom.

“Fuck!  You horny little boy…well, actually not so little,” I said amused.

“You like?” he said in a mock Asian accent while rubbing his hips.

“What’s not to like?”  I said staring intently as he wiggled it from side to side.  “Get over here and give me some sugar,” I said as I got down and took him in my mouth.

“Well, I don’t have any sugar, but I can give you some cream,” he said.

“Mmmph,” was the only sound I could make with my mouth full.

I figured it was time—time to discover what a boy tastes like, or at least this boy.  If I don’t like his, I won’t like it ever.  If it makes me sick, so be it.

“That looks like fun!” he declared.  “Why don’t I introduce you to my favorite number—69.”

He slid on his side and went for my belt.  I was soon participating in my first 69, and it was with a guy!  That would have been unimaginable just days ago.  But with Parker, it was just par for the course—another lesson in my ever-broadening repertoire.

After a good maybe 15 minutes of dual head bobbing and hip pumping, he warned that he was really close.  I figured I was committed at that point, so I stayed on him.  Then his breathing became audible for a few seconds followed by a series of grunts muffled slightly by the dick in his mouth.  I suddenly felt a warm sensation hit the roof of my mouth.  I soon realized what that warmness was as I ran my tongue over it.  I felt my stomach on the brink of a dry heave, so I tried not to think about what I was actually tasting.  It was warm and slimy with not much taste except for a little saltiness.

I scraped it off the roof of my mouth with my tongue and ran the fluid over my taste buds.  Not a taste I would put at the top of my list, but not nasty enough to make me retch.  Perhaps this is why Parker called it an “acquired taste.”

He rolled me onto my back and slowly slid his mouth down on me to my pubic hair and then back up several times.  Now it was my turn, and I did not disappoint.  The expulsion lifted my head off the carpet in four and a half equally spaced convulsions.  When done, I lay there out of breath trying to regain focus in my eyes, and Parker asked, “Did you finish?”

“Yeah, couldn’t you tell?” I inquired.

“Well, you kinda blew it down my throat, so I wasn’t sure,” he stated.

“Oh, sorry.  I didn’t mean to…”

“No, no, no, I’m not complaining.  I’ve never had it bypass my mouth before.  That was fucking hot!” Parker gushed.

That was the first time I heard Parker swear, so he wasn’t throwing it in there gratuitously.  There is hot, there’s really hot, and then there’s fucking hot.  But the result really wasn’t my doing because he went all the way down on me and I was just pumping my hips.  But if he wanted to give me the credit, I’d take it, after all it WAS my dick that done the deed.

I was thinking, “Three blow jobs in one day.  What did I do to deserve that?”

That’s about the point at which the doorbell rang.  We both yelled out “Pizza!” as we quickly pulled our pants up.  Parker scooped up the $20 bill and ran to get the door.  A minute later he came up the stairs with the pizza box.  I followed him to the kitchen table where we unveiled the pizza.  It looked and smelled amazing.

While we were feasting, Parker asked, “Do you wanna stay over tonight?”

“Parker, I would love to, but I really should get back to campus before they send out a search party for me,” I said.

“Awww,” he replied and made a sad face.

“Don’t forget we have a date for next Saturday, right?” I offered.

“Will you stay over next Saturday, then?” he asked.

“Only if you want me to...and if it’s OK with your mom.”

“Cool!”

I can’t verbalize how hard it was to say “no” to staying over that night.  I really wanted to, but I didn’t want to push my luck and I didn’t want Parker to think I’d say “yes” to everything he wanted.  It was all about setting boundaries and thinking with the big head sometimes.

“Do you have time to watch some TV?” he asked.  “We have some movie channels.”

“OK, for a little while.”

We flipped through and found The Usual Suspects, so we decided to watch that.  He lay down at one end of the couch and I lay down at the other with our legs and feet intertwined.  The movie was really good and we both were into it.  At one point, I felt a foot rubbing my crotch.

I yelled out, “Parker!  Stop being naughty!”

“Do you need to spank me again?” he kidded me.

“NO!”

And we both started laughing.

His mom came home with about 20 minutes left in the movie.  She whispered her greetings and sat with us.  I thought that was pretty cool.  I think she liked hanging out with us.

When the movie was over, she asked where we went earlier.  And Parker answered, “We went to The Isabella Garden Museum.”  I suppressed a laugh because at least he was trying.

His mom thought for a moment and said, “Do you mean the Isabella Stuart Gardener Museum?”

Looking at me Parker said, “Oh yeah, that’s the place, right?”  I nodded in agreement.

“Parker?  In a museum?  This I’ve got to hear,” she replied.

He disclosed the details of the trip pretty accurately:  He thought he was going to dislike it but he ended up loving it, he told her about the people we met, my coming to the rescue of the sunglasses in the tree, the paintings, the courtyard, the café…everything except the kissing of course.  Parker’s whole retelling of our adventures and how much he loved it was so enthusiastic, I fought to suppress an ear-to-ear smile.  My eyes even began to well up before he was done.  I looked over at his mom and she was smiling at me.

I learned that it’s not always the location that makes a trip great, sometimes it’s the company.  I knew if I had gone with anyone else, it would not have been as much fun.

At the end of Parker’s report, Ginny asked if we wanted a snack before bed and stated,
“And since I already met him, Matthew is grandfathered in for staying over,” she added.

“No, we’re stuffed full of pizza, plus Matt has to get back to campus,” Parker explained.

“Oh, you’re not staying over?  Hang on then.  I’ve got something to show you before you go,” she stated.  “I’ll be right back.”

She returned and sat on the couch between us.  “Since you two are planning a date next weekend, you can probably use this.  I won this $100 gift certificate for Club Café at my department’s Christmas party at the hospital.  Club Café is a gay-owned, gay-run, fancy restaurant in Boston.  Matt, I know you can’t be making a lot of money at the store and Parker has his allowance, so you can save yourselves some money while you have a great dinner.  I don’t know that I’d ever have the chance to use this myself.”

“Wow, really?  What do you think, Parker?"  I asked.

“Well, Mom, would a straight guy like Matt feel comfortable there?” Parker asked trying to tease me a little bit.

“Hey wait a minute!  After the last 24 hours, I think I deserve an upgrade to bisexual at least,” I said jokingly defending myself.

“Well, the café sounds good to me,” Parker said.

“You’ll probably want to make reservations once you decide what time you want to eat,” his mom advised.

“What’s the number?” I asked.

“Here take the gift certificate—all the information is on it.  But don’t forget it on Saturday night!” she reminded me.

“I won’t forget.  This is great.  Thanks so much!” I said looking at the coupon.

“Well, I really do have to get going,” I added.

Parker quickly added, “Don’t you want to give me your phone number?  You do have your own phone at the dorm, right?”

“Oh yeah, good idea.  Yes, it’s a private room phone I share with my roommate.  Feel free to call anytime.  I have a machine on it, so if it picks up, I’m not there.”

Parker went and wrote down his number for me and I dictated my number for him.

“I’ll keep it in my wallet,” I said as I folded the number into my wallet.  “Right next to my heart,” I added as I slipped the wallet into my back pants pocket and patted it.

“Me, too,” he said as he stuck my number in his front pants pocket and patted his crotch and smiled.

He walked me to the door.  “Well I guess this is good night,” I said as I pulled him to me and kissed him on the lips.

As I turned to the door, he pulled me back and we started making out.

“Alright you two, save some for later!” his mom eventually shouted out.

So I kissed him once more and said, “One for now.”  Then I kissed him again, “And here’s another one for later.”

I went out the door and walked down to my car to drive back to campus.  All the way home I could still taste him on my lips and I could smell him on my skin.  It was the soap or skin cream he used or something that rubbed off on me, but it was a mildly fragrant smell I would always associate with Parker.  It was intoxicating.

I arrived at my dorm room at about quarter to 10, and I had to think a few seconds to remember what day it was.  It was still Saturday at least for a few more hours.  I felt like I had a week of living in the last 24 hours.  Although there was partying in progress in the dorm, I just went to my room and crashed.  I felt like I just got home from an all-nighter.

© 2014 Rip Skor