Hello. You might remember me from such rubbing material as Jock Auction, A Closer Shave, On the Poolboy Payroll, or various other low-brow works of friction. It's been a while, because Life Happened, but I have new words.
As ever, don't read this if you shouldn't. Consider donating to Nifty if you can afford to. Drop me an email or a message through my poor neglected tumblr (https://dirtyanon.tumblr.com/) if you liked the story.
Oh, and try to be nice to people, because dammit if this world isn't pretty mean in general right now, no?
-Alex P (alexp336)
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EIGHTEEN by Alex Pendragon - Part 1
"I can make it happen."
I looked at Carl, sporting his wide, stupid grin that so often had got me into trouble, and shook my head.
"Stop making fun of me. I already said I'm not proud of it."
He arched his eyebrow. "Who's making fun? I'm telling you, I can make it happen."
I took a final gulp of my drink, and looked around the room to see if I could see the waiter. He'd been hovering near us for the past ten minutes, clearly wanting to take an order for another round, but now that I actually needed him... crickets. Typical.
Carl apparently took my silence for skepticism, meanwhile.
"Look, I know some guys."
I frowned at him. "You know... 'some guys'?"
That stupid grin again. Somehow both knowing and ignorant of the pitfalls that could get a guy arrested - or worse.
"Listen, you tell me you want to play with some teen dick; I'm telling you I know the guys you need."
Yikes. I glanced around quickly, to see if anybody at the nearby tables around us had heard him. Tact was not one of Carl's strongest points.
"Jesus, are you trying to get us both arrested?"
He shrugged. "You said that's what you wanted."
Pinching the bridge of my nose, I wondered if this could be a record for how quickly Carl could give me a migraine. "No, I said that I sometimes - very occasionally - missed the feeling of a rock hard, eighteen-year-old erection. And I was joking, okay?"
Uh-oh. Stupid grin had evolved into slyly stupid grin. That one was even worse.
"No, you weren't. And I'm telling you, I can make this eighteen-year-old cock urge happen. Just as long as you... well..."
My curiosity got the better of me. "As I... what?"
Now it was Carl's turn to glance around us. "Well, these guys. They might like a... contribution, perhaps. To their college fund."
I rolled my eyes at him. "Oh, great. You're trying to set me up with rent boys. Thanks, that's just great."
He raised his hands, as if trying to calm me down from some huge hissy fit that wasn't, in actual fact, happening. "Not rent boys. Just a couple of guys who... are friendly, is all. And who I know can be encouraged into demonstrating that friendliness, in the right situation."
Carl pulled out his phone, and started tapping at the screen. I suddenly had a very bad feeling.
"What are you doing?"
His eyes flicked up at me, then returned to the touchscreen. "What do you mean?"
I waved my hand between the phone and his face, prompting a grimace but not stopping his fingers. "I mean, what are you doing? Please don't tell me you're calling them."
Carl looked up, scornfully. "Millennials don't call, Shaun. They message."
Millennials. Great.
"Well I'm so sorry that I'm not up to speed on my Buzzfeed memes, but don't let's allow that to get in the way of the reality that you'd better not be texting rent boys" - as he opened his mouth to presumably protest - "or whatever you want to call them, at least not on my behalf."
He leaned in, suddenly conspiratorial. "One of them, he's got skin the color of honey caramel."
A beat. Carl, to give him his due, does have a solid grasp of how my tastes run. I shook my head to get myself back into the moment.
"I don't care. Put the phone down or I'm going to pour my drink on it."
"You've finished your drink," he observed.
I scowled, finally catching the eye of the waiter and lifting my empty glass to him. "Then I'll get another."
An hour later, Carl's idiocy forgotten, I'd worked out that the only method that worked with this particular waiter was to have at least one drink lined up once my current one was being consumed. Even so, I was surprised when the waiter's shadow fell across the table while I still had a completely full glass.
"I'm good for now, thanks," I told him, then looked up only to do a double-take.
"Clearly," the guy - who was equally clearly not, in fact, our waiter - replied.
I stared for a few moments. Fairly tall. Slim. Cute in a youthful way. Skin like... oh, fuck.
Fuck.
I glared at Carl, who had a goofy smirk I was longing to wash off his face with gin and sprite. "You told me you didn't..." I started, not quite knowing how to finish my sentence. He shrugged, unimpressed by my evident fury.
"I said nothing of the sort. Shaun, meet Jacob. Jacob, this is Shaun. He's not usually as angry as he looks right now."
Slowly turning my head back, I found myself bathed in a 64,000 watt smile. The sort of smile that you suspect has expensive orthodontics in its history. Also the sort of smile it's tough to remain grouchy in the face of.
"Um, nice to meet you, Jacob," I said, eventually. Somehow, unfathomably, his smile seemed to add a few thousand lumens more.
"And you," he said, voice deeper than I was expecting. Then he was sliding into the booth next to me, and I found myself automatically shuffling over to give him room on the squeaky vinyl.
Some people, I suspect, have a magnetism that works especially well on - though is not limited to - bartenders and waiters. Little else would explain why, only seconds after Jacob sat down, the same guy who had been giving me the runaround all evening was poised at the table to take his order. I scowled, and then doubled-down on it when I saw Carl rolling his eyes at me.
"So Shaun, Carl tells me you're a good friend of his."
A good friend who wanted to kill him right now, yes. I nodded my assent, not quite trusting myself to speak. Jacob flashed me that million dollar smile again, just briefly.
Carl himself filled the silence. "Known this bastard since school. He's always been a grumpy fucker." Jacob chuckled.
"With friends like you, right, Carl?" My old sparring partner had the good grace to look at least a little sheepish at being called out, but any sympathy I might've felt toward him in that moment was wiped out when he decided to start telling the story of how he and I met.
Somehow, with each subsequent recollection, Carl managed to make me sound like more of a novice alcoholic that still couldn't hold his drink, and him the shining knight come to rescue me. I remembered it, oddly enough, a little differently.
Eventually, after the punchline - which had, over the years, been variously "right back into the same glass," and "got the zipper stuck anyway," among others - Carl pushed himself up from the table and told us he needed the bathroom. I imagined a convenient flurry of daggers striking his back as he weaved a little unsteadily through the crowd.
When I turned back, I realized Jacob was staring at me. The smile was a touch dimmer now - no less buoyant, just slightly more restrained - and I got the feeling I was now seeing his "one on one" expression rather than the full audience effect.
He leaned in toward me, and without realizing it I leaned toward him in turn.
"You're very cute, Shaun," he told me, matter of factly. My head was spinning from that, and the unexpected feel of his hand suddenly on my upper thigh did nothing to settle it.
"So... so are you," I stuttered in reply. Jacob smiled again; it looked genuine.
"You think so?" A squeeze of his hand. I was close enough to see the pores in his face. All I could do was nod, but it seemed to be confirmation enough for him. "That's really lovely of you to say."
He leaned in further still. Could I really feel the softness of his breath on my face?
"How about we ditch Carl and get out of here?"
Leaving the bar was a blur, as was the Lyft to Jacob's friend's apartment which, he said, he was staying at this weekend and, anyway, was closer than my place. Periodically his hand found its way to my thigh in the back of the car, each time the air catching in my throat as his gentle but insistent fingers kneaded my flesh.
By the time I followed him up the stairs to the second floor, my senses were in overload. As he closed the door behind me, I stood frozen in the middle of the narrow hallway. Chuckling, Jacob turned me by my shoulders and pointed me in the direction of the couch.
"How about I tell you what I think you're interested in," he offered, watching as I sat, "and if I miss anything out you can just ask?"
I nodded, mute. Jacob grinned.
"I'm eighteen. I like guys. Older guys especially. Oh, and I'm wearing CK briefs under my jeans." I blinked at him, and he broke out in another smile. "It's okay, Shaun, you're not the only one who gets off on knowing."
Carl. Fucking Carl. Were a man's fetishes no longer his own business, and his alone?
"So," Jacob prompted, "did I miss anything?"
I shook my head. Sure, I had a head full of questions - not least "how the hell did I get into this situation" - but none of them were finding their way into words. Jacob smiled, suddenly boyish.
"Excellent. Now, would you like to see what color they are?"
I probably gaped a little, but Jacob didn't seem phased. Just had that knowing, amused expression on his face as, staring at me as though daring me to break eye-contact, he toed off his shoes while tugging at his jeans. I tried my very best to keep my attention up, but I knew he'd be able to see the inevitable flicker of my gaze down, to where bright pink cotton was now becoming visible.
"They're... very pink," I observed, as he let the skinny jeans ease down his thighs. They were also bulging in a deeply intriguing way, something I was trying my best not to comment on too. Jacob chuckled.
"You don't like pink?"
I shrugged, my mouth feeling suddenly dry. "I don't not like it. I just don't wear it much myself."
Jacob glanced down at himself, then back up at me. "I think you'd look nice."
I coughed, and almost choked as I tried to swallow it. "I think you look nice," I told him, inwardly wincing at how lame I knew I must sound.
He took a half-step closer to me, narrowing the distance between our bodies. I couldn't stop staring at the full pouch of the strained CK cotton, until Jacob's hand smoothed the hem of his shirt up, unveiling first smooth abs and then small, hard nipples.
"Um... are you sure..." I started, the words dying as I stumbled awkwardly through them. Jacob pulled off his shirt altogether, and I had to stop myself from reaching out and touching his skin.
"Are you always this polite?" he teased, bending to push his jeans down until he was standing in nothing but briefs a mere arm's length from me. I realized I was madly, painfully hard, but didn't dare look to see if it was as visible as it felt it would be through my jeans. Jacob slid even closer to me. I shook my head, not trusting my voice.
He leaned in, until his lips were just next to my ear. Looking down, I could see the taut skin of his shoulder, golden and firm.
"I know what you want to feel. Carl told me. But I want to hear you say it."
Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. There was a world of difference between making dirty comments with an old friend, and telling the same things to a smoking hot eighteen year old practically naked and almost in your arms. Fuck.
"Y'know," Jacob purred, "all you need to do is ask. I already know I'm going to give it to you."
"So why do you need me to ask, then?" I countered, the shake in my voice clear to my ears.
Jacob giggled, an oddly boyish sound compared to his deep, mature voice. "We all get turned on by different things, Shaun. I would've thought you'd know that."
The soft brush of his index finger running down the underside of my arm, from my wrist to my elbow. I suppressed the initial urge to jolt away, startled, then felt him pull my elbow until my arm was around his side. When I let my palm press on his flesh, I let out a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding.
"I want..." I started, then stumbled.
"You want...?" Jacob prompted, patiently.
Fuck. Seize the fucking moment, Shaun, already. "I want... I want to feel your cock. I mean, I want you to slap it into my hand so I can feel how hard it is."
He chuckled, and then for a brief, shocking moment I felt the wet swipe of his tongue up along the edge of my ear. Just the barest flicker, and then it was gone.
"I want that too," he whispered, then pulled back. My hand, that moments before had been gripping his firm body, was left grasping thin air.
I couldn't complain, though, because it meant I had a perfect view as Jacob rubbed and stroked at his cock through the clinging pink fabric. I could see the thick length of his erection, trapped up close to his hip, as he traced his fingers along its gentle curve.
"Hold out your hand," he instructed, still kneading at what was already looking pretty damn hard to me. Swallowing, I reached out my palm at roughly waist-level. Jacob grinned, and winked at me. "You want this?"
I nodded.
"Say it."
I licked my lips, finding them suddenly dry. "I want it. Please."
He laughed, but it wasn't a cruel sound - I didn't feel like he was mocking me. Not that I think I'd have cared either way, my brain fully occupied by the sight of what was going on in front of me. My palm itched with anticipation.
Stepping forward, with a swift pull Jacob slipped his briefs down, his cock jerking forward to jut, bobbing from his groin. Gripping it around the thick base with one hand, he slapped it into my own, then looked at me with a grin.
Instinctively my fingers closed around him. His shaft was everything I'd imagined it could be: wide and meaty, almost impossibly stiff. A soft sheath of flesh around an iron core. Carefully I worked it in my fist, watching as the skin gathered around the broad, swollen tip that was already glistening with his precum.
"Do you like it?" Jacob murmured, looking down to where I pulled at him. I couldn't help but grin, probably looking ridiculous but not really caring.
"Hell yes," I told him.
"Well how about you get down on your fucking knees so I can put it on your tongue," he suggested.
I looked at him, his eyebrow raised suggestively. Suddenly just holding his cock didn't seem anywhere near enough. I wanted more.
A hand on my shoulder, gently but insistently pushing me down. Reluctantly I let go of his dick as Jacob gripped it once more, wagging it in front of my face.
"Open your mouth," he instructed. I dropped my jaw, obediently. "Now stick out your tongue."
It could've been embarrassing, maybe even demeaning, but I did it anyway. Looking up the long, lean expanse of his torso to where he smiled salaciously down at me, his cock interrupting our line-of-sight.
I didn't mind, though, because only moments later he pressed the thick head of it against my tongue, rubbing it in the sudden rush of drool as my tastebuds went into overdrive. He was sharp and tangy, a little sweet and with a musk that made my head spin. Carefully, he ran himself all around my lips; up, over my nose, leaving a trail of our mingled juices.
"Are you gonna suck it?" Jacob asked me. My grunt was sufficient reply, and he chuckled, then pushed his cock between my lips and deep into my mouth.
Automatically I began sucking, resisting the urge to choke as Jacob's hand gripped the back of my head and the closely-trimmed buzz of his pubes ground against my stretched lips. No teasing, no gradually sliding deeper. Just every inch of him jammed into my face, already stretching out my throat as my gullet spasmed and gulped around him.
"Yeah, fuck... that feels amazing," he groaned, easing his hips back just enough to let up on me for a moment, then grinding back in. "Your throat feels so good."
The praise emboldened me, and I ran my hands up his thighs, feeling the muscles in his toned legs until his ass was filling my palms. Cheeks taut and jutting perfectly from his narrow waist. I squeezed them, hard, and was rewarded with a sharp jab of his pelvis, punching the head of his cock against my tonsils.
"You like this?" Jacob taunted me, "you like having this eighteen year old cock in your throat?"
It was dumb porno talk but I didn't care, could only moan around his thickness as I ground my fingers into the crack of his ass. He knew what I wanted and I felt his cheeks flex, allowing my fingertips to brush over his tight hole.
"Do it," he commanded, and I pushed, feeling his entrance dimple and then reluctantly accept my forefinger to the first knuckle. He hissed at the sensation, as I began gently but insistently working his hole while gulping and slobbering around his shaft.
Eventually, pushing back against the pressure of his restraining hand at the nape of my neck, I reluctantly pulled off his dick. "Sit down," I told him, and with a slightly frustrated, impatient look he acceded, backing up until his knees were against the edge of the sofa and then folding down into a sprawling slump. He looked like a model, all long limbs and graceful muscles, only with his spit-slicked erection pulsing between his legs.
I crawled on my knees to follow him, mouth watering at the thought of having him inside me again. I knew he could see the hunger in me, writ clear as anything on my face, but I didn't care how transparent I was being. I just wanted to suck him some more.
Opening wide, his thighs spread either side of me, I dipped my head and engulfed his cock again. Jacob's body tensed at the rush as my tongue swarmed around the sensitive flare of his tip, legs twitching as I pumped my lips around him. Sliding my hands up, along the underside of his thighs, I lifted him behind the knees until his feet were perched on the very edge of the couch cushions, spreading his most sensitive parts to me in the process.
"Play with my ass again," he said, a note of desperation now clear in his voice. I ran my fingers around his balls, smooth and wet with my drool, then further down into hotness below. Slippery, they pressed inside him far easier, his body hardly resisting as I worked the full length of first one, then two digits into his clenching hole.
It had been a stupid whim - a dumb, predictable fetish, probably a hangover from not getting enough action when I was Jacob's age and at school, and looking back now that I was the wrong side of thirty and wishing I'd had my lips wrapped around my schoolmates' dicks rather than giving them shamed half-glances in the locker room after gym class. Some midlife crisis come early; just wanting to feel that teenage urgency in my hands one time more. And now... now I wasn't going to waste this opportunity.
Neither, it seemed, was Jacob. Urgent hands grabbed at my head, reaching down between the spread of his thighs and holding me close as his hips bucked and twitched. Torn between pounding his cock into my throat as I gasped and choked eagerly, and grinding down on my hand as I worked his ass. The hot, fresh smell of his sweat filling my nostrils as his body wrapped around me. There was a roughness there, a side effect of the casual and liberated freedom of being caught up in the moment. So far from my own buttoned-up, tempered life.
It was raw, and uncontrolled, and furious, and I was loving every moment of it.
I wanted to pull my dick out, painfully hard in my jeans, but I refused to interrupt the crescendo I could feel building in Jacob's body. Knowing that everything I was doing could only end in one way, and wanting it with every fiber of my being. Hastening that rush with a third finger, jabbed unrelentingly into his ass and hearing that strangled whimper that gurgled up from his chest.
"I'm gonna..." he muttered, through clenched teeth, and that was all the warning I had as he flooded my mouth. His cock swelling somehow even harder, even thicker, as the taste of him drowned my tongue and his fists threatened to pull out my hair from its roots. His body vibrating with the pleasure of it, and almost toppling over into an orgasm myself at the knowledge that it was my mouth, my fingers, my doing that this beautiful youth was lost in this moment.
And then he was yelping as I strummed the over-sensitive tip of his shaft with my tongue, refusing to release him as his hands, only moments before in a devil's grip on me, suddenly swatted in desperation to push me away. The gasps of "please, Shaun" barely intelligible, lost in his wild writhing, until finally I relented and allowed him to slip from between my lips.
Jacob slumped back, a flush spread across his cheeks and his chest heaving. I rocked onto my haunches, knees suddenly cramping beneath me. Carefully, knowing how little it might take to tip me over the edge, I kneaded the bulge of my erection with one hand through my jeans. It seemed like it would be weird to pull my cock out and start actively stroking it, however much I was desperate to.
Opening his eyes, a smile slowly spreading across his face, Jacob looked down at me. Both amused and exhausted.
"That was good," he told me. I chuckled.
"Oh. Just good."
He shrugged, a lopsided gesture what with his slouch. "Were you hoping for a full review?"
I chuckled again. "No. Just a full stomach."
Jacob patted his belly contentedly, then rested his hand there, strumming carelessly across the contours of his abs.
"Well, I'd like to think I helped there, at least." He glanced down, to where I was pawing at myself. "Are you horny?"
I rolled my eyes at him. "What do you think?" Jacob shrugged again, his cock softening but still thick as it lolled between his thighs.
"You want some help?"
Did I want some help. Now there was a dumb question.
"Only if you want to," I ventured. He winked at me.
"If I hadn't just..."
"Filled my stomach," I suggested. Jacob grinned.
"Right. Anyway, if I hadn't, I would've said you should fuck me."
My cock just about jerked loose of my body at that. Suddenly I regretted my prior eagerness down between his thighs. Me and my dumb, apparently talented mouth.
"But why don't you come up here and join me," he continued, patting the sofa alongside him. I pushed myself up, then dropped down next to his long, lean, naked form. Jacob turned his head to smile at me, and I noticed for the first time how his hazel eyes were flecked with wisps of dark green.
A palm on my chest, pushing me to the side until I was lying on my back. Jacob winked again, and then his leg was swinging over me, my view monopolized by the smooth taper of his back, but before I had a chance to marvel at it he was shuffling back, pelvis arched, and my attention glued to the sweet, firm mounds of his ass as they neared my face.
I swore, almost to myself, and then his butt was right in front of me and it was a foregone conclusion that I'd close those final few inches and push my mouth against his hole. Jacob's purring response a shudder that rippled all the way down his spine, as my hunger overtook me. Hands pulling at his cheeks again, spreading them so that my tongue could reach further into his tightness, and then dimly aware of him tugging open my jeans before the welcome liberation of my cock from my boxer-briefs.
"Nice," he muttered, and then I felt his tongue licking around the head like a lollipop, sloppy from my own wetness and his mouth. My fingers gouging divots into his firm flesh as I trapped him in place, my appetite refusing to allow him any escape as he teased me.
Near mindless with lust now, I rasped my tongue up from the smooth mound behind his balls, up between the cheeks of his ass, then down again to circle his entrance. Jacob wriggled his butt on my face, trying to force my handiwork, but I resisted the urge to indulge him. Concentrated instead on teasing all around the hole, alternating between almost gentle laps and insistent jabs, and all the time his muscles softening and yielding.
Enough that I could pull at him with my thumbs and spread him all the more, my tongue maximizing the advantage by sliding as deep inside him as I could manage. Jacob suckling on me now, one hand working my shaft while his full lips teased me relentlessly.
I don't know how he knew, how he'd divined that I got off so much on eating ass, but I wasn't going to question it, only get lost in his willingness to play. Furious, now, all decorum cast aside as I feasted on his body and savored his moans, each telegraphing vibrations down my cock and further strumming my arousal.
The flat of his tongue making long, repetitive strokes across the sensitive head of my cock was the final straw, a rasping that I found both addicting and overwhelming in nearly equal measure. I felt him grip tighter in response to my thickening in his fist, yet the slow insistence of his lapping refused to speed up its pace, until I wanted to howl with frustration.
Instead, like a spring gradually coiling until it reaches its very tightest and can only unwind, I felt the climax stretch out within me. And then I was cumming, hard and messy, the wet sound of it splattering across Jacob's face clear even above my groan, muffled as it was by the flesh between his cheeks. A pulsing from the very furthest depths of my cock until the sensation bordered on painful and I could only let my head fall back, breath rasping in my chest.
"Fuck," I heard him whisper, then a giggle. "You got me good."
I had to laugh, then. A couple of ragged giggles at first, that snowballed into a body-shaking crescendo as the tension flooded out of me. Suddenly I felt like I was eighteen again; carefree and lost in the moment without feeling guilty about that. My head span.
Jacob pulled slowly on my dick, squeezing the last of my cum out, then bent again to lap it away. I twitched at the overload to my fragile nerve endings.
"Please," I asked him. He laughed, a sharp bark.
"Oh, like you were so merciful before, right?"
I ran my hands down his body, from as far up his back as I could reach, all the way down his slim, muscled flanks.
"Be the bigger man," I suggested. He laughed again, then released me, turning so that his butt slipped between my still-clothed body and the back of the sofa. Legs sprawled across me. Glancing up, I saw the long, wet stripes already beginning to run down his face. "You look a mess," I pointed out.
He shot me a look. "And who are we blaming for that?"
I did my best to look innocent, though I'm not sure how convincing it was. Jacob toyed with my cock almost absentmindedly.
"Keep that up and I'm going to want to go again," I warned him. He gave me a scornful glance.
"Sure, old man, whatever you say."
I knew he was only teasing, but all the same I felt an icy grip in my chest. Suddenly the age difference between us came hammering home, more than a decade slamming into my forebrain.
Jacob clearly saw my wince. "I'm kidding, Shaun," he told me. Then, when I didn't say anything to that, he leaned over so that his body was loosely draped across mine and brought his cum-slick face up close to my own. Sticky lips brushing across mine. I resisted for a moment, not wanting to be so easily swayed and hating myself for being so quick to second-guess things, but the lure of his soft mouth nudging against me was too tempting.
It was a gentle kiss, not chaste but not overwhelming in its passion either. Either Jacob was the consummate actor, despite his mere eighteen years, or there was some reality to what feelings he gave every indication of having for me.
I'm not stupid. I don't harbor any misconceptions that after a sweaty fumble he'll fall head over heels for me. I'm not sure I'd even want that, to be honest: for all the fun our bodies were clearly capable of having together, that's a hell of a long way from being compatible in a relationship. And, were I to make any sort of sounds that even hinted at that idea, I've no doubt he'd laugh me out of the apartment. As well he probably should.
All the same, there was an honesty in his kiss. An authenticity that, while not a sign of a love affair to span the ages, at least suggested he wasn't only sharing his evening and his body with me for purely mercenary reasons. If I was wrong about that, and he truly was feigning it all, I was sufficiently glad that he at least did it convincingly enough to pacify my self-doubt.
So I focused on kissing him back, and on taking advantage of this moment to run my hands once again across his body in all its firmness and youth. Because really, who knows when these things will ever happen again, right?
Eventually, though, he pulled away. "What time is it?"
I glanced at my watch. "Gone eleven." He grimaced. "And it's a school night," I joked. Jacob side-eyed me.
"Well, actually..."
"Oh fuck," I groaned. He laughed at that.
"If it makes you feel any better, you're not the oldest guy I've been with."
I frowned. "Y'know, I'm not sure it does." He shrugged, shoulder nudging me in the chest.
"Hey, I tried to help."
"Yeah, thanks for that."
He levered himself up, then rubbed his arm across his face before examining the mess he'd made. "I need a shower. I'd invite you in, but..."
I grinned, awkwardly. "But it's late, and..."
Jacob nodded, smiling back at me. "Right. Thanks for not being weird about it."
"Who said I'm not being weird," I asked. He looked thoughtful for a moment.
"True. Well, thanks for not being visibly weird about it, then."
"Oh, I keep all my weird locked up inside where it can do the least damage," I told him.
"You're a good man," he observed, then leaned down to slide my phone from my pocket. "Unlock, please," he said, holding it screen-out to me. I reached up and jabbed my finger against the button.
Tapping and swiping. "Now we don't need to bother with Carl, since you can just message me instead," he explained, before locking the phone and pushing it back into my pocket.
I took a deep breath. This could be uncomfortable.
"So, Carl kinda mentioned... that you might want... something..." Fuck. How do you ask this sort of stuff without it sound like... well, like it actually is, I guess.
Jacob frowned for a moment, but then his expression softened. "Oh. He did, did he." He tapped a finger against his lips. "Well, whatever terrible impression he's given about me, let's just say it's not what you think. Or, at least, not every guy."
I tried to get my head around what he was saying, but my brain wasn't entirely cooperating.
"Look," Jacob continued, perhaps seeing my lingering uncertainty. "When you message me - which I'm telling you you'd better do - how about you tell me where we're going out for dinner. Dinner is always good, and you can treat me, and then later on I can treat you some, and vice-versa, and who gives a damn whatever Carl has said. Sound good?"
I nodded. Yes, that sounded good. I hadn't expected more than a one-night thing, but suddenly the idea of it being at least a little more than that was very appealing.
"Okay," he said, grinning down at me. "Now you should probably put your dick away and I should wash your cum off my face before it dries and I get all crusty, and next time you can dump it in my ass instead, how about that?"
My jaw probably dropped, a little, just from his bluntness. But I nodded again, because yes, "how about that" was a pretty damn good idea from where I was. Only a little self-conscious about it, I zipped my jeans up.
He leaned in to give me a kiss after I stood, then brushed my lips with his thumb. "Yes," he murmured, voice low, "I definitely need that shower."
It was only when I was stood on the street, the door closing behind me, that I was confident enough in my voice's ability to be anything more than a part-terrified, part-giddy squeak. I pulled out my phone; there was a new "Jacob" in the contacts list.
"Dinner next Thursday?" I punched out, then paused for a moment before hitting send. And watched for the "message read" confirmation like a hawk. It was only a few seconds - thirty or forty at most - but I was sure my heart would bounce its way out of my chest.
"Sounds good," came the reply, "just tell me what you want to eat." Now that was a loaded question and, even if I opted for the most innocent interpretation, it would need some serious consideration. Being alone in an apartment with an eighteen year old was one thing; being out in public on a... what, a date? The precursor to a hook-up? Whatever, being out in public with Jacob might need some... finesse. If only so that I didn't look like an absolute idiot when I couldn't keep up with him.
Right now, my palm was tingling with the memory of him and, while I might not have been proud about the urge, I certainly wasn't going to argue with the end result. So I simply locked the phone, and put it away. That was all stress for the morning.
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Part 2, you'll be either pleased or unconcerned to hear, is already written. Loved it? Hated it? Let me know - alexp336@gmail.com or via https://dirtyanon.tumblr.com/
Actually, if you hated it you could probably just keep that to yourself. I won't mind.