Chapter 2 Kiss and Tell No One #2
In years past, Matt had surreptitiously compared his flaccid cock against those of his teammates.
His only firm conclusion was that he wasn’t small.
Once, he’d even rifled through his mom’s sewing basket, pocketed her tape measure, and tried measuring his erection later in the privacy of his bedroom.
Three tries had produced wildly different results.
What difference would it have made had he known exactly how tall his erection stood?
Lacking the critical data of what constituted “normal,” he was just shooting in the dark.
In the end, that was what he had done—shot in the dark—figuratively and literally. He’d jizzed all over the damn tape measure and had worried himself sick that his mom would puzzle out that little mystery and rat him out to his dad.
William must have sensed Matt’s worry. “Lovely cock,” he said.
“Not the longest pencil in the pack, nor the fattest. And that’s a good thing, trust me.
Thick, extra-long sausages may look enticing, but they rarely fully inflate and when they do it’s difficult to find accommodating spaces to stuff them. ”
He gave Matt’s cock a couple of test strokes. “On the bell curve, this one’s above average. Long and thick enough to command respect. And deliciously rigid.”
Matt sighed with relief. He hadn’t realized how much he wanted William’s approval.
“Let’s get the small talk out of the way,” William said. “First, after tonight, you’re going to feel a rush of elation. Euphoria. Much more so than with jacking. That isn’t love, so don’t get all mushy and start planning a wedding.”
“Second, tell no one about this. Not a word.”
“Third, after you drive me back to my car, go to your room. Don’t miss curfew. Then go about your week. Yes—week. If you see me around campus, keep your distance. Do not call my room. Questions so far?”
Matt hated to delay the promised finishing off. He wondered if it would be oral or manual. Clearly anal was off the menu—for tonight at least. Still, he couldn’t resist a question. “Why a week?”
William still held Matt’s cock in his hand. He took a moment to squeeze some pre-cum from the tip and to taste it as though appraising its flavor and finish. “I want to make sure you’re not going to have an attack of gay guilt and confess your ‘sin’ to someone. You wouldn’t be the first.”
William waited a moment to see if there would be any more questions, then resumed.
“Fourth, no jacking in the meantime. If by next Friday you still want to see me again, then meet me at Johnnie’s at 6:00.
I’ll wait until 6:15 p.m. Not a minute later.
If you don’t show up by then, I’ll leave.
If you do decide to meet me, don’t shower after your soccer practice.
No deodorant either. Oh, and wear a jockstrap instead of undies. ”
“Anything else?” Matt didn’t want to delay any longer.
“Yeah. I’m going to blow you. No bucking and trying to ram your dick down my throat. And if you even think of putting your hands on my head and pushing me further onto your dick, I swear I’ll bite it off.”
Matt nodded his understanding. He was about to receive his first blowjob!
He still remembered the first time he’d heard the word “blowjob”—in a locker room, of course.
Guys bragging about what their girlfriends had allegedly done over the weekend.
Matt had wondered how blowing on a dick was anything special.
William placed one hand at the base of Matt’s shaft, squeezing slightly, pulling the skin even tauter, like a string musician adjusting his bow for maximum friction.
Matt moaned.
William bent to his task, his hair falling forward, blocking Matt’s view.
William teased the tender underside of Matt’s cockhead with his tongue.
Matt shivered. Fear and yearning collided and short-circuited his synapses. He’d been here before—different position but just as vulnerable—and still bore the psychic scars.
He was a specimen splayed in a lab—his arms and legs spread, his dick exposed and bleeding seminal fluid.
Outside, light from distant galaxies blinked hazily. Crickets chirped and an undulating chorus of cicadas screeched. A June bug crash landed on the windshield, then scuttled to find the best view of the goings on inside the Jeep.
To a beetle—for that is what June bugs are—it must have looked as if the big-headed human was devouring the bucking, spread-eagled one alive, chomping on its scrotum, then stuffing its penis into its cheeks like a greedy chipmunk.
The perspective inside the Jeep was a bit different.
Matt, arms on the headrest, back arched, butt clinched, stared down into William’s doe eyes, begging for release. The pleasure was excruciatingly exquisite, washing over him in waves. His cock strained, desperate to discharge, but unable to do so because William controlled the tempo.
Matt’s triceps bulged with the effort of restraining his body from bucking. His legs stiffened and his toes curled—all trying to help his dick across the finish line.
William fondled Matt’s balls.
That was all it took to push Matt over the edge. He shot streams of hot, sticky cum into William’s mouth.
Just when Matt thought he was finished, William gave his balls a gentle tug and moved his lips lower on the shaft.
“HOLY SHIT!” Matt gushed. That was the last thing he remembered before a numbing euphoric buzz engulfed him.