8. Caleb
8
CALEB
T he way Marcus’s muscular arms gripped my lean, tight frame made me feel safe. I wanted to run my hands through his superman curls and kiss his juicy red lips. We stared at each other like we were the only two people in the room. He was my chauffeur and wheeled me to class for the rest of the day. He left ten minutes early from his class so that I could arrive at mine on time.
Never in a million years would I have thought this budding relationship would transpire at my school, but through some miracle, it was happening. There were awkward glances and weird stares as we laughed and went full speed down the hallways, but no one dared say anything to the football team’s star quarterback.
I felt protected in his presence and always did when I was surrounded by men who were more superior in size than I. That’s why I adored athletes. They were aggressive and take-charge type men. I possessed those qualities when it came to my education and the vision I had for my life, but never desired to be bold in other areas. I wanted to blend in unnoticed.
The next week flew by, and our first movie date was fast approaching. My ankle healed nicely. I used crutches for two weeks, but I didn’t need them now, and for that, I was grateful. The last thing I wanted was to be wearing crutches on our first official date. I changed my schedule so that we had the same lunch period.
Being the official tutor for the football team and carrying a 4.9 GPA had its perks. It would have been a 5.0 if it weren’t for my B+ in AP Physics. I don’t know why the fuck I enrolled in that class knowing only one student got an A every semester.
I figured I’d have bragging rights, but I missed three days after my fiasco with Bradley, which knocked my perfect grade down a whole letter. I almost destroyed my chances of being valedictorian. Thankfully, Peter Vander, my arch nemesis, sucked at English, and I refused to tutor my competition despite the many times he’d asked. Just as the bell rang for lunch, I looked at my phone and saw a text from Marcus.
Marcus: Meet me in room 226 in 10 minutes.
Caleb: Okay
I anticipated these texts because football practice and Marcus’s protective mother kept us from seeing each other outside of school. But on our lunch period was our free time, and we could do whatever we wanted. I knew what was about to happen, and I looked forward to it. I carefully looked down the hall in both directions before I entered classroom 226. I quickly closed the door and turned off the lights. It was one of the only empty classrooms with a big enough closet for both of us to fit in. We linked here every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday because it was empty during that time.
I opened the closet door and smiled when I saw Marcus with his pants down on his knees, caressing his dick. He pulled me inside, closed the door, and unbuckled my pants like a fat kid unwrapping his favorite sweets.
“What took you so long? You know we only have thirty minutes, and I want to have that dick in my mouth as long as humanly possible.”
“I got tied up tutoring Dante. He asks a lot of questions.”
“Hopefully, you are only tutoring him and not him tutoring you if you know what I mean.” Just as I was about to argue with him, he put my dick in his mouth, and once again, I was under his spell. He knew how to shut me up. I didn’t know if him having this much control over me was healthy, but I awaited these moments. He sucked my dick like a cherry popsicle melting on a hot summer day while he played with my balls, further intensifying the feeling.
“Suck my dick, Marcus; teach your tutor how it’s done.” When I talked like this during our sessions, he sucked faster, and it turned him on. He jacked his dick while he continued to suck mine, and just as always, he timed his ejaculation with mine. Seconds later, I flooded his mouth with my nut. He always opened his mouth and showed it to me before he swallowed.
The first time he did it, I felt violated and satisfied at the same time. I thought it was just common courtesy to ask someone first before they swallowed your elixir of life. I leaned down and swiped some of his nut from the head of his dick. It was the first time I had done it, so his eyes were scrutinizing my every facial expression. He watched as I tasted it.
“What does it taste like?”
“It’s kind of salty, but I can taste hints of pineapple,” I laughed.
“I’ve been eating lots of pineapple just in case you asked to taste it.”
“I hate pineapple,” I said.
He stopped laughing, and his face transformed to a more hardhearted countenance. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know, Caleb.”
I burst into laughter. “I’m just joking, Marcus.”
Marcus stood up and started tickling me; my laughter grew louder. He knew my body better than I did.
“You like messing with me, don’t you, Caleb Edmonds?” He lifted my chin and kissed me. “I can’t wait till Saturday.”
“Me either.” His alarm on his phone went off, and that’s how we knew that our thirty minutes were over. We had to grab something to eat and head to our next class. It felt like him giving me head was his way of paying me back for my sprained ankle.
I looked forward to our freaky lunch dates and didn’t complain about a future pro football player performing fellatio on me. It made our senior year memorable. I longed for the day I could taste his dick in my mouth because I wanted to explore every part of his exquisite physique.
I perused through my closet, looking for the right outfit for our first public outing. When I couldn’t find anything to my liking, I fell back on my bed, stared at the ceiling with my hands behind my head, and imagined him lifting my shirt and sucking on my sensitive nipples. I still can’t get over how good his mouth felt as he sucked my dick. I was getting head almost every other day, and he wasn’t asking me to reciprocate. I knew I would eventually have to, so I practiced with a dildo daily. If Marcus sucked dick this good, I wondered how proficient he was at other things. I slid my hand down my pants but quickly removed it when I heard someone clear their throat. When I looked up, my nosy big sister stood in the doorway.
“So, what’s his name, and do I know him?”
“You should knock before you barge into someone’s room.”
“I didn’t barge in; the door was open.” She was right. My dumb ass was so spellbound I didn’t even close the door before I reached down my pants. Thank God I wasn’t in full masturbation mode, or we could never look at each other the same.
“You still should have knocked.”
“I’ll remember that next time. Now tell me, who’s the boy that has you so hot and bothered you forgot to close the freaking door before putting your nasty hand down your nasty pants?”
“I’m not telling you anything because you have a big mouth, and he’s not out.” Marissa stared into my mirror, pouted her big red lips, and styled her hair like she was ready to go out.
“Brother, you’re such a hypocrite. After your breakup with Bradley, you said you would not be dating any more jocks or closet cases.”
I rolled my eyes, then walked over to the closet and grabbed a fresh shirt. The last thing I needed was her reminding me of the promise I made to myself.
I knew I was breaking my vow and didn’t need her rubbing my faults in my face. My sister eyed my crutches in the corner, and ever since she saw them a few weeks ago, she has asked me why I had them. I patiently waited for her question so I could provide her the same robotic and rehearsed line.
“When are you going to tell me what the freak happened to your foot?”
“I told you.”
“And that story was a lie. Mom and Dad may have bought that crap, but I know better. I’m the Queen of fabricated tales.”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” I replied.
“Was this boy involved?”
“Not telling,” I said.
“So, a boy was involved. I don’t think you should date boys who cause you to have broken ankles. That’s my two cents because you know things didn’t go well with you and Bradley.”
“My ankle wasn’t broken. It was a mild sprain, and this guy is different, Marissa. If you’re going to judge me based on the men I date, you can leave my room.”
“Look, no need to get snappy with me. I’m just trying to do what you asked me to do, remind you not to date these jocks, straight guys, or closet cases.”
“My apologies. I’m just in a weird space. I like this guy and think he likes me. There’s only one problem: he’s bisexual.”
“Brother, leave the bisexual men alone. They’re indecisive. One day they want pussy; the next day, they want dick. They’re sexually schizophrenic.”
“That statement was insensitive to the LGBTQ+ and the mentally disabled community, Marissa. You can’t stereotype all bisexual men. You sound like an ignorant cis-gendered heterosexual female.”
“Let me rephrase then. Every man that I have dated that was bisexual couldn’t be faithful. They always wanted to do freaky stuff, like put dildos in their ass.”
“Sis, you just pick bad men. It has nothing to do with them being bisexual.”
“Well, we both get it from mom,” she replied. We both burst into laughter.
“You’d think she’d tire of walking down the aisle,” I said.
“This is husband number three now,” she replied.
“I know, right? That’s our mother, a serial romantic.” Moments like these reminded me of how blessed I was to have a family that supported and cared for me, but it also made me feel bad for Marcus and all he was going through. Marissa took it upon herself to dig through my closet, and when she found an outfit she approved, she handed it to me.
“You should wear these Air Force Ones with tapered jeans and a Gucci sweater. Throw on this baseball cap. It’ll give you a little hood flava.” I looked at her with raised eyebrows.
“I don’t want to wear the Gucci sweater, and I don’t want to give off hood anything. That’s the white girl in you talking. Gucci makes me seem like a pretentious snob. Besides, Marcus is a man of humble beginnings.”
“So, his name is Marcus, and you like him enough that you’re willing not to wear name-brand clothes in front of him.”
“Fuck, I didn’t mean to say his name.”
“Wear the Gucci sweater, brother. If he is as poor as you say, he won’t even know it’s Gucci. Next, you’ll tell me you’re going to Uber and not drive your BMW because you don’t want to exacerbate his poverty.”
“Good idea; I will Uber.”
“Caleb, if you have to change for this guy, he isn’t the one.”
“He’s not asking me to change. I’m just being considerate, that’s all.”
“I hope he’s worth it. Any pictures?”
“No, we haven’t got to that part yet.”
“Have you done it yet?” I pretended I didn’t hear her and ignored her comment. She had a seat on the bed next to me.
“Oh my God, you gave up your virginity to him? Has it even been a month?”
“I did not. I lost my virginity to Bradley on my eighteenth birthday,” I replied. Marissa hit me upside the head.
“And you didn’t tell me?”
“It’s not a big deal.”
“I want details.”
“Get out and let me get ready.”
“Okay, but you owe me details.”
“I’m not discussing my sex life with my sister.”
“Caleb, what’s the point of you being gay if we can’t discuss dick together?”
“Bye, Marissa,” I said, pushing her out of my room and closing the door.