Chapter 18 – Chapter 18

We stopped writing. Every time I thought of giving in, I reminded myself that I had pledged my help.

We took precautions in planning for Boulder. While we were on the same flight, we were not sharing the same hotel, much less the same hotel room. We knew better.

Still, I was vexed by the notion of taking a trip with him. I didn't trust either of us, especially in light of the planned "breakup" that was to follow the trip.

The day before our flight, I decided I was not going to go.

I also decided not to tell him, as I didn't want him to try to convince me to change my mind. Because, if he tried, then he would succeed.

I careened throughout the night and the next morning. One moment, I'd back away from my decision not to go, thinking "this may be my chance." The next, I'd be committed to it, remembering my pledge.

At some point, indecision becomes a decision. Mine did. I dithered long enough that I couldn't make the flight even if I retreated from my so-called decision not to make the flight.

Resignedly, I laid on the sofa, covered my eyes with a warm, wet cloth, and tried to relax. I had worked myself into such a lather, relaxation did not come easily.

But, come it did, and I drifted off to sleep.

I was startled from my nap by a pounding on my door. And, by pounding, I mean pounding; it sounded as if the police were battering it with a ram.

"Calm down!" I barked through the door before looking through the peephole.

I didn't expect to see what I saw: JJ, red-eyed and red-faced.

I also didn't expect to react as I reacted. I froze.

"H," I finally heard. "I know you're there. I heard you and then I saw the shadow cover the peephole. Please open the door."

"You're supposed to be on an airplane," I answered, ignoring his request.

"When you weren't there to board, I didn't board, either. Please open the door."

"I don't want to open the door. I'm sorry, I just don't."

"You do. Trust me, you do."

I didn't answer.

I heard a thump against the door and, when I looked through the peephole, no longer saw him.

"JJ, are you still out there?"

"Yes. I'm sitting against the door. I'm going to sit against the door until you open it."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously."

"What if I never open it?"

"Then I'll die waiting for you to open it."

Hyperbolic, but effective. I unlocked the door, but I didn't open it. Instead, I rested my head against it, my hand still on the knob.

"It's open," I said.

I felt the pressure on the door yield. Then, I felt the pressure on the knob as he took hold of it and turned it.

I stepped away from the door as it opened. His eyes locked on mine as he stepped into my apartment for the first time, closing the door gently behind him.

I was pensive.

He was, too, his weight shifting foot to foot.

The room seemed charged, like it was overfilled with static electricity, like the slightest flicker would cause an inferno.

Neither of us said a word. We just stood there, his eyes locked on mine and my eyes locked on his.

He moved first. In two steps, he was directly in front of me, his hands on my face, his lips on mine. He kissed me hungrily. I kissed him back just as hungrily.

As we kissed, I felt his fingers on the buttons of my shirt, opening it. "Uh oh," I thought, as he had never before been so bold.

"Oh Harold," I heard, his voice a growl, low and rumbling in his chest. He didn't say it, but his "Oh Harold," his reversion back to my full name, was dripping with "I want you."

My back was against the door.

My shirt was fully opened.

His mouth left mine, his lips trailing over my chin and attacking my neck as he braced himself against the door on either side of me.

I realized I was holding my breath, the anticipation of what was happening overwhelming me. I was afraid to move; I couldn't risk breaking the momentum that was building.

His mouth was on my clavicle and then my chest. He sucked my left nipple and then my right.

His hands were on my belt, opening it. "Oh my God," I thought to myself, his obvious want rending me.

His lips were on my stomach, my belt now open, the button on my shorts now open, the zipper on my shorts now down.

"Help me," I heard, his hands at my waist and trying to force my shorts down.

I pushed my shorts and briefs down, exposing myself to him.

He sat on his heels, my erection directly in front of his face.

"You don't have to do this," I said, gently and softly.

"Yes I do," he answered, his eyes again on mine, both desire and fear evident. "I don't know that I should, but I know that I have to."

He tentatively opened his mouth, but then stopped. I knew what he was thinking. During our talks, I had explained to him how lucky I was to have grown up in a body positive home, one in which I was taught that nothing about my body was dirty. When he demurred, I had pointed out that, as a general rule, people easily allowed their own finger or another's tongue into their mouth, both of which held far more germs than a penis or a toe.

"It's not dirty, JJ, literally or figuratively. I've been out of the shower only about an hour. I'm fully clean, Zestfully clean. And, it's just flesh and blood. My flesh and blood. The same flesh and blood you've had in your mouth over and over again."

He took me into his mouth. My entire body twitched.

I remembered the first time I had taken a boy into my mouth, the salted silkiness of the pink glans, the smell and taste of sweat. I wondered if he was as surprised in this moment as I had been in that one.

I was looking down. I couldn't believe what I was seeing, me inside his mouth.

He looked up and stopped. His eyes said "tell me what to do."

"Make spit. Cover your teeth. Slide back and forth. Follow my hand."

I put my hand around my shaft. He did as he was told, his mouth sliding.

"Use your tongue. Under it." He did as he was told, his mouth sliding.

"I'm going to remove my hand. When I do, just keep going." He did as he was told, his mouth sliding.

If you have never had someone in your mouth, you don't know how easy it is to get lost in it, to forget about what you are doing and just do what you are doing.

I could feel and see that JJ was getting lost in it, the rush of control, the dizzying effect of giving pleasure, of owning the giving.

"More spit," I said.

"Use your hand, like I was using mine," I urged.

When receiving, I normally close my eyes and drift away. With him, I couldn't. I had to watch. I needed to see what he was doing to me.

"This can't be real," I thought to myself. "I must be dreaming."

He was taking me deeper, the down slow, the pull back quick, his tongue pressed to the underside of me.

His eyes were closed. His lips were raw and red. From this angle, I noticed that his nose was slightly crooked. "What an odd thing to notice," I thought to myself, his mouth sliding.

My testes started to churn. I was torn. I wanted to come in his mouth, to claim it as mine. But, I also didn't want to come so soon. There can be a finality to coming, and I didn't want a finale.

Before I passed the point of no return, before I gave way to my base desire to give him what he was working for, I stilled his head with my hands and hissed, "get up here."

When he didn't move, I dropped to my knees, put my mouth on his, and kissed him with a ferocity with which I hadn't kissed him since that first day that he had kissed me back. As I did, I pushed him backward until I had him on his back.

I straddled him as I pulled at his shirt. He helped me remove it.

I licked his neck.

I raised his arms over his head and licked his armpits, right then left. He smelled and tasted like a man.

I sat on his pelvis and ran my hands through his chest hair and around his nipples. I leaned forward and licked and sucked his nipples. As I did, he unbuckled his belt and opened his shorts. I moved my tongue down his sagittal plane and hissed "raise your hips" as I claimed responsibility for removing his shorts.

Again, I encountered compression shorts.

I raised my eyes to him.

"They keep everything in place and hide what they should. I can't stand in front of a class with a visible budge."

"You are so disingenuous," I said, "pretending you don't know that you're packing but then wearing compression shorts every day because you know that you're packing."

To my surprise, he wiggled his eyebrows at me.

"Raise your hips again." He did, and I worked his compression shorts off of him.

I had been right when I had looked down his shorts. He was big and thick, his erection laying along his right thigh.

I understood why Claire had balked at first and then why she claimed it hurt. His was not a beginner dick. If he didn't know how to work her open, and he didn't, he split her, and he had.

I licked down the length of him.

I licked where his legs met his pelvis.

I licked his scrotum. I took one ball and then the other into my mouth.

I licked up the length of him.

Every time I licked any part of him, he squirmed.

I took him in my mouth, as deeply as I could. "Oh boy," I heard.

I held him by the base and sucked and sucked and sucked, my mouth soaked and sliding up and down the lengthening and thick shaft.

I felt hands in my hair. I felt fingers pulling at my hair.

I kept at him, sucking and sucking. I got lost in it, my head and neck moving reflexively, driven on by the overwhelming need to make him come.

I started using my hand and my mouth together, my saliva soaking him.

I pushed myself to the edge, to the point I was almost out of control, like I was a surfer barely hanging onto my board.

"H, oh my, H, I'm going, oh H" I heard as he bucked and thrashed beneath me.

I stopped only long enough to urge him over. "Give it to me, teacher man…. Give me all you've got."

I went back to him like a feasting animal. I growled around him as I sucked and sucked and sucked.

He swelled and filled my mouth. I gulped and gulped as I sucked and sucked until he couldn't take any more sucking.

"Wow," he said, when I laid beside him, both of us on our backs, sweat beading on our skin.

"You cried out."

"I did…. I had no idea. I mean, I imagined, but my imagination was nowhere close to that. If I hadn't cried out, I might have passed out."

We lay there in the silence, trying to recover.

"Are you okay?" I asked, finally, somewhat tepidly, as I feared his reaction to what we had just done.

"I think so."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm not sure of anything right now…. Well, that's not true…. I'm sure I want to do to you what you just did to me."

"You already did. In fact, you gave before you got, which has to be one of the world's greatest anomalies."

"I want to finish you. I want to make you feel like you made me feel. I want to swallow you, like you swallowed me."

I was stunned by his admission. Even if he wanted what he said, I never thought he'd admit it aloud.

"Maybe later. Right now, I want you to kiss me while I jack myself."

He rolled toward me, but hesitated.

"What?" I asked.

"Was I so bad you don't want me to do it again?"

"No. I just love kissing you. The first time I come with you, I want to be kissing you."

"I don't know…. Am I going to taste my, uh, you know?"

"I assume so. I mean, I swallowed as much as I could, but I assume I didn't get all of it."

"I'm not sure I want to."

"Shut up and kiss me," I said, pulling his mouth to mine. Diffidently, he took my tongue and then gave me his.

I moved us to our knees. I had my hand around myself. I was getting close when he whispered into my mouth "can I do that… touch you… finish you?"

"Yes, please," I whispered back, turning so my back was to him, so he could have maximum leverage while I craned my neck to kiss and kiss him.

He replaced my hand with his and started stroking me, sliding over the skin, the way amateurs do.

"Grip me tighter," I said. "Move the skin, don't slide over it."

He did as I said, his mouth back on mine, his tongue buried in my mouth. I loved being jacked and kissed at the same time, so it was easy for me to crash through, especially when the kissing was the kissing JJ was giving me.

"Oh God," I groaned into his mouth as my balls clenched and I came hard, my back arching as ejaculate sprayed out of my meatus, my mouth leaving his as my stomach convulsed and doubled me over as I continued spraying.

"Are you okay?" he asked, looking down at his hand, which was still wrapped around me.

"Yes. I should have warned you. I usually come really hard. And, I mean really hard."

"So, it was okay?"

"It was more than okay. It was great…. You're hard again."

"I know."

"Should we move this to the bedroom?"

"Yes, yes we should."

We stood. I held my hand out to him, and he took it with his left hand, the clean one.

I led him to the bedroom. Along the way, I grabbed a hand towel from the closet to clean his hand.

Once in the bedroom, I closed the blinds and turned on music. When I turned my attention back to JJ, he was sitting on the corner of the bed, his head down. He appeared pensive.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

"I am. I just don't know what comes next."

I didn't know if he meant between us or generally. He may have meant both.

"Nothing comes next that you don't want to come next," I said, assuming the former and trying to re-assure him.

"Come up here," I said, patting the bed next to me. "I have something I want you to watch."

Our heads together and my iPad between us, I pulled up "Juan Fucks Brett" from AustinZane.com. I wanted him to see what I wanted him to do.

While watching, JJ was uncomfortable. I could feel tension in his body.

To quell him, I took his hand in mine and rubbed the back of his hand with my thumb. "Don't make too much of it," I said. "I just want you to see what I want you to do to me….. I'll be Brett, the catcher, you'll be Juan, the pitcher."

He remained uncomfortable. In case my presence was part of it, I patted his hand and told him that I needed to go to the bathroom to get ready. I left him, cleaned myself out, and returned with a small container of wet wipes.

"He didn't seem to like that at all," he said. I knew what he was talking about. I had watched and re-watched the clip. When he was on his stomach, Brett's face looked pained.

"I like it," I re-assured him. "A lot."

I squeezed his hand.

"Will you do it to me?" I asked, hoping the segment had not re-routed him.

"I'll do anything you want me to."

"You're beautiful."

"You're not so bad yourself."

"Thank you," I joked. "I've always wanted to be 'not so bad'."

"Shut up and kiss me."

I did. Like our kisses often were, the kiss was ravenous, our tongues lashing, our hands gripping and pulling. As we kissed, a single thought rattled repeatedly through me: I want you inside of me, I want you inside of me, I want you inside of me.

I spread my legs and wrapped them around him. I used my hands on his ass to push his groin as hard against mine as I could.

I pulled my mouth from this kiss. He raised his head and looked into my eyes.

"Fuck me, please" I whispered.

He didn't answer immediately. I couldn't read the look on his face.

"You didn't have to say please."

"There's lube in the drawer."

"What about, you know, a condom?"

"You don't need one. Your first time, you should feel everything. And, I'm clean. I've been tested."

"What about that guy in Texas?"

"We were safe. And, I've been tested since. I'm clean."

"You're sure?"

"As sure as I've ever been about anything."

I used the lube on him and then on me. I opened my legs and guided him to where I wanted him.

"You're going to have to push hard to get in. But, once you do, once I give way, you can go as fast and as hard as you want. You won't hurt me. You may think you are hurting me, but you won't be."

"Okay."

It took longer than it usually did, but I talked him in: "Push harder…. Wait right there…. Yeah, like that…. You can go deeper…. Yes, I'm sure…. No, you're not hurting me…. Keep going…. No, I'm not going to tear…. Oh sweet Jesus."

His body glistened with sweat when he finally bottomed out. He looked like a cold glass of water on a hot summer day.

"It's so tight," he said. "It kind of hurts."

"It'll get better," I said, moving this way and that as I tried to cross over, to give myself to him completely and utterly.

"Oh boy," he said, his eyes and mouth wide with awe when my channel yielded and his erection released into my depths.

I went slack, the intrusion complete, my body no longer fighting against it.

"Get to it…. Fuck me, teacher man."

He started moving.

"I should warn you," he said. "It can take me a while to go, and I've already gone once."

"I hope it does."

"Are you sure I won't hurt you? I don't want to hurt you."

"I'm sure. Remember, I've done this before. I know what's coming. I can't wait for what's coming."

He started moving his hips faster. He may not have experienced other positions, but he knew what he was doing in this one. He gave me long, slow strokes, his body propped on his arms and hands. I was in bliss, as full as I'd ever been, more turned on than ever before, my body a puddle of pleasure as my dream collided with reality.

His eyes were closed. I wondered what he was thinking as he moved in me, his first time doing what we were doing.

My hands were everywhere, on his hips, on his shoulders, in his chest hair, on his face.

I pulled him to me, so we were chest to chest and cheek to cheek. I locked my hands in his and used them to splay our arms wide, so he had only his knees for leverage. I kissed him as he moved in me, the friction of our chests and stomachs slicking us with his sweat.

"Stop moving," I said. "Just be still and kiss me."

He pushed into me and then put his mouth to mine.

I loved making out while I was full. At its best, it fueled the fire. With JJ, it fueled a rager.

We kissed and kissed and kissed until I couldn't take any more. Pushing him back up on his arms, I insisted "change of plans" and "I need you to fuck me, JJ, fast and hard."

He didn't move.

"Are you okay, JJ?"

"I don't know."

"We can stop if you want."

He started moving again. "I don't want to stop," he said. "I couldn't even if I wanted to."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. I need to do this…. I need to see this through…. I want to do this…. I want to see this through."

He moved back to his hands and knees. Freed, his hips were giving me deep, long strokes.

"Alright then forget all that and give me what you've got… Faster… And harder."

My channel quaked as he drove deep and sped up, his cheeks flush and his body glistening. I thrashed under him, my body shivering with pleasure.

"Come on, teacher man. Give it to me. Give me all you've got to give."

Every time he drove in, my body reacted with a groan or a moan. I wasn't conjuring them, they just sprang up.

I don't know how long he took, but he took a long time, my "fasters" and "harders" urging him on but not closing the gap.

His "It might take awhile" proved prescient. He had stamina.

When he found my prostate, I hissed and said, "Right there. Don't change a thing. Right there. Oh, Jesus."

He maintained his spine angle, and he started hitting me with every stroke. I saw stars, the pleasure shooting out of my channel like bottle rockets.

"Open your eyes," I said. "Look at me, teacher man. Look at what you're doing to me."

He opened his eyes. He stared at me intently, his hips quickening. I bit my lower lip. It was the only way I could stop from screaming or squealing, I don't know which.

I got lost in those eyes, the disbelief at what was happening and the pleasure it was bringing dulling my senses. I felt like I was ethereal, weightless.

"Oh fuck," I hissed as the intensification of pleasure brought me back, radiating from my core in concentric circles that spun and spun and spun, dizzying or hypnotizing me.

"Oh oh oh," I grunted, urging him on, calling for more, more depth and more speed.

He gave me what I wanted. He, too, seemed on the edge of control, his thrusts fevered and raw, out of control, pounding me.

"Let it go, teacher man. Let it go."

I knew I was tracking my own orgasm, but the suddenness of it surprised me and almost knocked me out. It came without a touch, a dozen or so strokes before I thought it would.

I arched my back and felt the heat of my ejaculate splatter my chest and stomach. I convulsed and hit my forehead to his.

I was so gone, my world such a dizzied blur, that I didn't realize he had finished.

When my haze started to lift, I realized he was still inside of me, his hands brushing across my neck, my chest, my sides and my stomach in the most gentle, tender post-coital caress I had ever experienced.

I opened my eyes. His body was slick and his hair was wet from sweat.

He collapsed onto me, burying his head in my hair and the pillow next to me. He started shaking. I didn't know if he was crying or laughing.

"JJ, are you okay?"

"Oh my," he said, pulling out of and then rolling off of me and showing me that he was neither crying nor laughing, that the shaking had simply been an aftershock. "I had no idea. I mean, I've been having intercourse for years, but I feel like none of it counted. It has never been like that."

"I know what you mean. I, too, have been 'having intercourse' for years, and it has never been like that."

We were flat on our backs, wet with sweat and spent, at least for the moment.

"I hope that was okay, me finishing in there."

"It was more than okay. It's where you're supposed to finish."

"I didn't know."

"Well, now you do."

We rolled toward each other. We laid there in silence, each facing the other. Our faces were flush and our smiles were broad and deep. I got sweet and soapy.

"I love you," I risked, kissing the tip of his nose.

"I love you, too," he answered, without any hint of a hitch or a pause. "I don't know how, but I really do."

"You're sweaty."

"I know. I don't usually sweat during intercourse. I don't get to go at it like that."

"I liked it."

"The sweat or the intercourse?"

"Yes…. And, can we stop using 'intercourse' and use 'sex' instead?"

"'Sex' seems broader."

"Let's not lawyer it."

"Alright, let's not…. I'm glad you think I did well."

"I don't think you did well. I know you did well. I loved it. It was the best ever."

"Me, too. I feel euphoric."

"It's the battery effect."

"Huh?"

"The battery effect. When two people have sex within adoration and love, sometimes the heart opens and energy is created."

"I do feel energetic."

"Me, too."

"Can we do it again?"

I was surprised. He bounced back like a teenager.

"Are you sure?" I asked.

"I'm sure. I need to sort this out, and experience has proved that deprivation was not the proper route. So, let's go. Let's sort this out."

I rolled onto him. "I want to drive this time, teacher man."

When I saw the panicked look on his face, I laughed out loud. "By 'drive', I meant ride you, not drive into you."

"Oh. Thank goodness. I'm not sure I'm ready for that yet."

"I'll be here when you are," the "yet" thrilling me.

I used my hand to get him as hard as I could. When I had, I lubed him and then lowered myself onto him.

"It's weird," he said, "watching you, you know, do that… slide down on me."

"It's not weird to me," I said, going as low as I could get, filling myself as full as I could get.

"I'm not going to lie, it feels great. But, it's still weird, you being a guy, me being in your, you know."

I imagined it did. After all, he was a married, straight man, and he was about to get ridden like a bull by another man.

And, ride him like a bull was exactly what I intended to do. While I preferred missionary, I enjoyed the control cowgirl gave me. I was really good at riding bulls.

I put my hands on his chest. "Asshole," I said, bending down and kissing him. "You're in my asshole."

"I know."

"Say it," I said, squeezing him to confirm where he was.

"Asshole," he said, softly, almost in surrender.

"Here we go," I said, starting to slide.

I rode him while I kissed him. I rode him while I braced myself with my hands beside his head. I rode him while I braced myself with my right hand on the bed behind me. I rode him while I braced myself on his chest and on his shoulders. I rode him the way GayHoopla star James Manziel — a Kentucky straight boy who proves to be a power bottom — rides, with ebullience and fervor. I wanted him to know that, whenever I gave him my ass, I could take whatever he was giving.

Before I lost all control, I pulled off of him.

"Are we stopping?" he pleaded. "Why are we stopping?" He seemed desperate.

"Stand up," I said, turning from him and bracing myself against the wall with the palms of my hands. "I want you like this."

I spread my legs wide and guided him back to where I wanted him. When he started thrusting, I begged him to put one hand on my chest and the other on my stomach, to hold me from behind. When he did, I craned my neck so we could kiss.

I maneuvered my ass until he was hitting my bump. "Right there, teacher man, right there," I said.

I used my hips to meet his, my ass slamming back as he slammed forward, both of us picking up speed, his hands now on my hips. The fucking was feral, our bodies slapping together, my back and chest slick with sweat, my erection bouncing in front of me uncontrollably, slapping against my stomach.

I wanted to quell it. I wanted to stroke it.

I couldn't. I had to keep both hands on the wall to steady me against the onslaught and to provide the leverage I needed to fight back.

I could tell from his breathing and his speed that he was, in his words, about to go. I wasn't, the battering distracting me.

"Don't go yet, teacher man," I pleaded. "Don't go yet."

"I can't stop it," he said, slamming into me wildly, his body spasming as he ejaculated into my channel over and over and over.

I used my muscles to milk him. I wanted every last drop of him inside of me.

"Holy mackerel," he said, his body slumped against mine, his erection flagging, but staying inside of me.

It's one of the reasons I liked the big boys. When we were finished, they didn't just pop out; even soft, they could stay in.