31. Emory
Emory
When confronted with Gerard Wells’s condom-sheathed cock, Emory’s brain immediately went into equation-solving mode. His thoughts flooded with the best angle to approach, the depth at which to swallow, and the strength of the inhale he needed to take to create optimal, pleasurable suction.
Then Gerard’s unnaturally pink, thick erection twitched in anticipation of Emory’s mouth, and all thoughts of this as an experiment or Gerard as some anatomical model meant to be dissected flew out the window.
A primal instinct sent Emory pouncing forward, which was a mistake.
He moved too fast and took Gerard too deep down his throat, causing him to wrench back, coughing.
Gerard asked if he was okay, to which he shot a thumbs-up before remembering that Gerard couldn’t see his hands.
“Fine,” he choked out. “Just got too excited.”
Gerard visibly blushed at this. “You can take your time. We have all night.”
Intellectually, he knew that. That this was their apartment and their time together.
Nobody was coming to interrupt. Still, his brain had this tricky way of flinging him back to days in overcrowded foster homes where, once he learned about his body and ascertained his interest in masturbation, he had to be clever when it came to location, timing, and speed.
A lingering sexual anxiety crept back into his consciousness.
With all that he wanted to try with Gerard, he rushed to run down his own checklist. Gerard’s words were a reassuring reminder that no parental knock telling him he’d been in the shower too long was coming, and that if he was lucky, this wouldn’t be his only opportunity to explore with Gerard Wells.
Adopting a more tempered pace, Emory slid down onto his stomach between Gerard’s spread-apart legs and gave each of his senses a turn to steer.
Pressing his nose to the inside of Gerard’s thigh, he inhaled the clean, masculine aroma.
His adventurous tongue flicked out to discover the mint of his soap and the natural saltiness of his skin.
The hairs around the base of Gerard’s cock were curly yet soft, and when Emory swept his fingers over them, they bent and then sprang back up, much like the erection they alluringly framed.
By then, he was wet-lipped and ready, and his mouth welcomed Gerard with ease.
Worries that he was doing it wrong were eclipsed by his frenzied hormones, which spurred him to press his pelvis into the mattress, creating cacophonous squeaks each time he rolled his hips down. That’s when it hit him. “Starbursts!”
“Huh?” Gerard asked.
“The condom tastes like a strawberry Starburst.” Emory was far too pleased with himself for figuring this out.
“Of course,” Gerard said through a half-broken blissful haze. “As a kid, I loved Starbursts, except the orange ones.”
“Nobody likes the orange ones,” Emory said with a laugh.
“I didn’t even particularly like the strawberry ones.
” Every year, the day after Halloween, as a treat for surviving another triggering holiday without any major mental breakdown, Emory raided the candy aisles at his local grocery store for the half-off variety bags of candy.
There were inevitably plentiful packets of Starbursts in them.
Every tear of the wrapper, he found himself hoping for cherry or lemon, knowing the probability was not in his favor.
“You don’t have to blow me anymore if you don’t want.” Gerard ran the back of his hand over his dewy forehead, revealing a patch of neat, dark armpit hair.
“I don’t want to stop. I was hoping I could take the condom off and keep going.” He couldn’t bring himself to confess that he didn’t so much mind the strong, chemically engineered strawberry flavor as much as he wanted to know what Gerard’s cock tasted like. He needed the full experience.
Gerard’s already-swollen cock further stiffened. “I’m tested—negative on all counts and taking PrEP. You’re welcome to take it off me.”
As he carefully rolled the condom up, he glanced past to see Gerard smiling preciously down at him. For the first time since getting accepted into his first-choice college on scholarship, Emory felt truly lucky.