Chapter 4
I nod at Cass, though in truth, I understood the scale. I was probably lying to myself more than anything else.
Zain says, “Quincy already explained step 1. Here we go.”
His first touch is like a jolt of electricity and I gasp. He eventually makes it to the pinnacle and my heart is racing. I’ve never experienced anything like this before. They all know I’m a virgin. My own masturbation techniques never felt like this.
“Next is the Skiing Stroke. Hold the sides of the Lingam with both hands and ‘ski’ with your thumbs up and down starting at the root of the penis and going all the way to the tip.”
He skis me until I don’t think I can take it anymore. When I close my eyes, I see stars. This is the most raging erection I’ve ever had in my life.
Keegan observes, “I think he’s grown past 6.25. That’s at least 6.5.”
Cass smiles at him, “You would know.”
He takes her hand, “So would you.”
Zain clears his throat, “Third is The Screwdriver Stroke. Surround the Lingam with both hands, twisting them in opposite directions. Be careful not to squeeze too hard here.”
Oh my god! The sensation is so intense that I actually whimper. The friction of each twist is its own mini fireworks show. I can’t believe that I’m not spurting my load all over the room at this point. Zain can tell that I’m close though. He stops at just the point where only one more twist would have been one too many and the show would have reached its grand finale.
“Fourth,” Zain announces, “is Meet the Frenulum. Slowly circle the thumb and index finger in both directions around the frenulum of the penis.”
So he does. And he does and he does. I turn my head and bite down hard on the palm of my hand. Again, he expertly takes me just to the edge before stopping and bringing me back.
“The fifth and final move is The Crossed Prayer Stroke. Hold your hands with crossed fingers like in a gesture of prayer and surround the penis between them. Then, open the thumbs and slide them along the sides of the Lingam up and down and at varying speeds.”
He said this was the final one. We’re almost done. I can survive this. Zain knows how to read me. He has proven four times before that he can bring me right up to the edge and stop. So, I decide to trust him. I lower my hands and rest them against the mattress. I let myself relax, physically and mentally and I almost feel like I’m melting into the bed. As Zain strokes me up and down, I’m in unimaginable ecstasy. Minutes are going by and I’m staying strong. But then he changes tack.
He goes back to the Screwdriver. I grip the bed sheets and open my eyes. He’s not looking at my face. The Screwdriver is intense and my strength is quickly fading. Then he goes back to the Ski Stroke. My knees begin to twitch and my mouth falls open. He’s not narrating anymore and I have no idea how long each new motion will last or what he plans to do next.
He decides to get reacquainted with my frenulum. This time, he allows his thumbs to explore lower than before and the length of the underside of my shaft gets plenty of attention. A lot of attention. Too much attention. Finally, he goes back to the final move – the prayer thing. He tightens his grip and increases his pace. My whole body shudders. I’m quickly approaching that edge again. He must know it. How can he not? I slap the mattress and scream, “Zain!” But he only tightens his grip even more and increases the pace. I fight for oxygen. My toes curl. My first shot is timed perfectly with an upwards stroke and I get hit in the chin. My second spurt lands on my chest and about eight more dribble down my shaft and Zain’s fingers, pooling in my pubic hair.
Keegan laughs, “Hey man. You held out longer than I thought you would. Good job.” He musses my hair again but it’s a genuinely friendly gesture. He takes Cass’s hand and says, “I need to talk to you in my room.”
Jada again says, “Gross.”
Cass blushes, smiles and lets him lead her away. I guess I was their pregame show.
Jada and Quincy both leave too and Zain hands me a towel along with a sheepish smile.
Fifteen minutes later, I’m cleaned up and dressed. Zain hands over the rest of the money I earned. I guess this is it. I am to leave this house with my cash and pretend like none of this ever happened. Like I don’t know these people and they don’t know me. That would be pretty easy to do if Zain were not one of them. Or if he wasn’t so ridiculously cute. As much as I needed the money, Zain being in this group is the only reason I agreed to tonight in the first place. And once I found what I was in for, he is the only reason I stayed. But now it’s over. And there seems to be some confidentiality rule, so… Yeah. That’s it.
I shove my cash in my pocket and suddenly I feel the strong need to get the hell out of here. It’s not embarrassment or regret. These people will all move on to their next test subjects and I’ll be little more to them than a nameless number and anonymous results. Barely a fading memory. Which is fine, for four of them. But the thought of Zain forgetting me makes my eyes burn with tears. With absolutely zero cool, I blurt out, “Bye.” And I dash down the stairs and out the front door.
Zain follows me. He catches me on the porch and grips my elbow. He pulls the door closed behind him and we are completely alone. He turns me around to face him. Even through his thicket of dark brown tangles, his eyes are warm and kind.
He smiles, “I have to admit, I’ve seen you around.”
“I just mean that I’ve noticed you. I don’t know who you are. I don’t know your name. I’ve seen you running on the track.”
“That’s something we have in common.”
“Probably one thing among a list of things.”
I smile. And then my smile falls away. “You can’t know me.”
“I already know you. Intimately.”
I shake my head, “No you don’t. You know 86. And I can never know you.”
Zain holds out his hand. At first I think he wants his money back, but he says, “Give me your phone.”
I hand it to him. He smiles, shakes his head and hands it back, “Unlock it please.”
Oops. I place my thumb accordingly and hand it back.
He taps at my phone screen for a while, then says, “You already know a little about me. I’m also twenty years old, also a junior, I also like to run, I’m a business major, a massage therapist and I know my way around the penis.”
I snort out a laugh.
He continues, “Oh, and apparently I’m the cutest guy on campus.”
I laugh again, “I didn’t say that. I said you were the cutest guy out of the two in the room.”
“That was the original question, but then you qualified your answer.”
I forgot about that. I guess I did pretty much admit that I think Zain is the hottest guy on campus.
He grins, “Here’s some stuff you don’t know. Despite being a gay young adult male, I can compartmentalize. I mean, I can give a guy – even a hot guy – a Lingam Massage and it means nothing to me. It’s my job. But tonight, I was sitting at my desk on the other side of the room because it was you. I haven’t just noticed you a couple times. I’ve really NOTICED you. I didn’t want to witness that happening to you if I wasn’t going to be the one making it happen.”
He hands my phone back to me. He added himself as a new contact.
He goes on, “What happened tonight is over but other things can be just the beginning. The choice is yours. The ball is in your court. You can delete me from your phone and from your mind and just walk away. I don’t know your name and I have no way to find you or contact you. Or, you can text me. If you text me, I’ll have your number. If you text me, we can make plans to meet up again next Friday night, but this time, for pizza. And to talk. And who knows what might come next. But it’s all up to you.”
I say, “How ticklish are you?”
Another grin, “I might be willing to let you find out.”
I grin back, “I might also like to discover whether or not I have an aptitude for giving tantric massages.”
Now he snorts, “Maybe not on a first date.”
“Wait,” I pretend to be serious, “You’re not the outie, are you?”
“Keegan’s belly button survey. One of the five of you has an outie. Is it you?” I’m just messing with him. I already know it’s not from the time I saw him lift his shirt after that long run.
He laughs, “No worries. I’m an innie all the way.”
I tap at my phone and his phone pings. He pulls it from his pocket, glances at the screen and smiles. “It’s nice to meet you, Brandon.”
We shake hands. I say, “I know it’s almost midnight, but I know a pizza place just a couple blocks from here that’s still open. I’ve kind of worked up an appetite.”
“Me too,” he grins again.
We start toward the sidewalk, but he stops. He turns to me and places his hands on my hips. He pulls me against him and he kisses me. Long and deep and my toes curl in my well-worn sneakers. One of my hands rubs circles in his back while the other entangles in his hair that I’ve been dying to touch for months. When we break apart, he takes my hand. He says, “At best, I’m the second cutest guy on campus.”