The Higher Education of Matt Griffith By: Jack Chandler
Copyright 2024. All characters depicted in this story are fictional and are not meant to represent any actual person.
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Chapter 2: Kiss and Tell No One (August 5, 1995)
Later that evening William guided Matt to a dirt side road on the northeast outskirts of Oklahoma City. (William had explained that one should never risk hookups within Edmond city limits, since, if Edmond police caught you, they would report it to OC.) Hookup? Matt's mind locked on that word and replayed it in a loop while they drove to the edge of civilization (or what counted for civilization in Oklahoma).
Matt turned onto a rutted drive that might have once led to a farmhouse. He parked his Jeep Cherokee, lowered the windows, and shut off the engine—all at William's direction. William, beside him in the passenger seat, was clearly in charge of whatever was about to happen.
It was a sultry, late summer evening with the faintest whisper of a breeze. The setting sun shot ribbons of purple, orange, and red across the sky. Crickets and cicadas screeched, desperate to mate.
Matt understood how they felt.
"Tilt the steering wheel up to give us more room. Scoot your seat back as far as it will go," William said.
Matt eagerly obeyed.
"Now, raise your arms and put your hands on your headrest. And keep them there."
Matt hesitated a moment, but ultimately raised his hands to the headrest. He was curious, though, why he was still clothed. Didn't the definition of hooking up involve nakedness? And why did he have to keep his hands on the headrest?
William climbed over to Matt's seat. He placed his knees on either side of Matt's hips and folded his legs beneath him. In this position he was straddling Matt, his ass just out of reach of Matt's crotch. He, too, remained frustratingly clothed.
Matt gazed up at William's large, dark eyes and sensuous lashes.
"Tonight's lesson is `Kissing 101'". William traced Matt's lips with a forefinger. "Got it?"
Matt nodded, but truth be told, he thought kissing was highly overrated. Why did people waste all that time slobbering on each other when they could just get to the good stuff? (The reality was that he knew nothing about either kissing or the good stuff.)
William leaned down, closing the distance between them. Matt puckered, expecting lip contact. Instead, William nuzzled his nose. William grinned, pulled back, and spent a minute running his fingers through Matt's hair, his nails lightly grazing Matt's scalp, making it tingle deliciously. For the first time in his life, Matt understood why cats purred.
Matt's eyes focused on William's lips, which were full and luscious. His mind obsessed on William's bony ass, which was anything but full or luscious, which somehow made it maddeningly enticing. It hovered just inches above Matt's bulge. Hookup. That was the word William had used.
Matt was no longer surprised by his desire for this effeminate lanky guy. As they'd sat (as straight guys would do) across from each other in a vinyl-covered booth at Johnnie's, munching the occasional French fry, William had said a lot of things that made sense. Things Matt was embarrassed he hadn't thought of himself. Things like: a lot of gay guys would rather make love to their hands, imagining they're with the perfect guy. Wouldn't it be preferable to make love with a flesh-and-blood-less-than-perfect guy? And: gay guys didn't have to play by the same rules as the heteros, weighing down every hookup with the heavy baggage of love and relationships. Hooking up could be for a myriad of reasons: sexual release, friendship bonding, love, or—charity (helping an inexperienced newbie learn the tricks). The longer they had talked, the more bewitched Matt had become by William's unique combination of features: manly jaw and eyes; delicate, high cheek bones; and pouty lips.
It never occurred to Matt that anyone would consider him a charity case even though he was obviously an inexperienced newbie. He wasn't cocky, but he wasn't insecure either. He had good, smooth skin that tanned instead of burned. He was gifted with an athlete's fine musculature. Girls seemed to find him attractive--judging by all the giggles, batted eyes, and outright solicitations he'd received—but declined. More than one girl had gushed that he looked like Mark Paul Gosselaar (of Saved by the Bell fame). But it was male attention he craved. And to his knowledge the only male to show any interest had been the youth pastor who had groomed him.
And now here was this self-assured skinny kid who seemed to know not only all the ins and outs of gay sex (saying "hookups" plural) but knowing about this country road and avoiding Edmond cops. The most intriguing thing William had told him at Johnnies was that there was a sort of secret gay club at OC! Matt had wanted to know all about it. How many guys were in the club? Did they have, like, club meetings? William wouldn't say any more other than that he would have to see if Matt checked out.
Matt had no idea what that meant. He had no choice but to play by William's rules and hope it all worked out. He trusted William. Besides, he was thoroughly enjoying himself.
William pressed his lips to Matt's, bussing them lightly. He licked Matt's teeth with his tongue, nudging Matt's jaw open. Their lips fused. William's tongue slithered into Matt's mouth, thrusting, and retreating, twisting around Matt's tongue.
Matt became acutely aware of his own body. In his peripheral vision he saw tufts of his pit hair poking out of his sweat-stained t-shirt. He felt his nipples hardening, which was a new experience. His cock ached. He wore it tucked down in his boxer briefs, which was fine except in a situation like this where it was straining against the fabric, bent at an uncomfortable angle. He wanted to at least adjust it, but didn't dare break the rules.
Locks of William's shiny black hair fell forward, brushing across Matt's face. Matt panted and moaned. He inhaled the subtle scent of William's shampoo, probed the slick mysteries of William's mouth with his tongue.
Until now Matt had been the passive partner, accepting William's kisses but not really returning them. Not any longer. Something primal kicked in. He licked Matt's face hungrily, began sucking on his upper lip. He felt pre-cum leaking from his bent cock.
William grinned again. His lips seemed vibrantly pink against his fair complexion.
They kissed a few minutes more, maybe longer. Matt lost track of time as his consciousness gave way to his reptilian brain.
Suddenly William quit kissing him and pulled away.
Matt was confused, even dazed. Then he realized that his hands were on William's hips. He had broken the rules. He vaguely remembered pawing at William's ass, desperate to pull it closer to his grinding crotch.
William leaned down and whispered softly in Matt's ear. His breath was warm and moist, and made Matt even harder. "This is an art form," William said. "If you want to rut, find a barnyard."
Matt sighed and returned his hands to the headrest. He was ready to resume kissing.
William seemed to have different ideas. He crawled off Matt and returned to the passenger seat. "I think that's enough for tonight's lesson," he said, twisting to face Matt.
"Please." Matt, arms still on the headrest, arched his back, straining to resume kissing.
William smiled weakly. He reached out his hand and caressed Matt's bulge.
The touch was electric. Matt shivered.
William worked to unbutton Matt's jeans, then lowered the zipper. "I hadn't planned for things to go this far. I intended tonight's lesson to only include kissing." His fingers found the elastic waistband of Matt's boxer briefs, reached in, and gently freed Matt's bent cock. It slapped up against Matt's stomach, trailing a string of pre-cum.
"It would be cruel to send you back to the dorm in this condition," William said. He bent over and used both hands to tug Matt's jeans and briefs down to his mid-thighs. "You are okay with this, right?" William asked. "Say the word and I'll stop."
"Please. Don't. Stop." Matt panted with desire.
William smiled. "Okay. Listen up and pay attention. Before I finish you off, let's cover a few points. I don't think you'll be in much condition for conversation afterward." As William spoke, his fingers explored the length and girth of Matt's cock.
Matt became self-conscious, wondering how his dick compared to the many others William must have seen. In years past, Matt had surreptitiously compared his flaccid cock against those of his teammates. His only firm conclusion was that he wasn't small. He'd even once rifled through his mom's sewing basket, pocketed her tape measure, and tried measuring his erection later in the privacy of his bedroom. Three tries had produced wildly different results. What difference would it have made had he known exactly how tall his erection stood? Lacking the critical data of what constituted "normal", he was just shooting in the dark. In the end, that was what he had done— shot in the dark--figuratively and literally. He'd jizzed all over the damn tape measure and had worried himself sick that his mom would puzzle out that little mystery and rat him out to his dad.
William must have sensed Matt's worry. "Lovely cock," he said. "Not the longest pencil in the pack, nor the fattest. And that's a good thing, trust me. Thick, extra-long sausages may look enticing, but they rarely fully inflate and when they do it is difficult to find accommodating spaces to stuff them." He gave Matt's cock a couple of test strokes. "On the bell curve, this one's above average. Long and thick enough to command respect. And deliciously rigid."
Matt sighed with relief. He hadn't realized how much he wanted William's approval.
"Let's get the small talk out of the way," William said. "First, after tonight, you're going to feel a rush of elation. Euphoria. Much more so than with jacking. That isn't love, so don't get all mushy and start planning a wedding. Second, tell no one about tonight. Not a word. Third, after you drive me back to my car, go to your room. Don't miss curfew. Then go about your week. Yes—week. If you see me around campus, keep your distance. Questions so far?"
Matt hated to delay the promised finishing off. He wondered if it would be oral or manual. Clearly anal was off the menu—for tonight at least. Still, he couldn't resist a question. "Why a week?"
William still held Matt's cock in his hand. He took a moment to squeeze some pre-cum from the tip and to taste it. "I want to make sure you're not going to have an attack of gay guilt and confess your `sin' to someone. You wouldn't be the first."
William waited a moment to see if there would be any more questions, then resumed. "Fourth, no jacking in the meantime. If by next Friday you still want to see me again, then meet me at Johnnie's at 6:00. I'll wait until 6:15 p.m. Not a minute later. If you don't show up by then, I'll leave. If you do decide to meet me, don't shower after your soccer practice. No deodorant. Oh, and wear a jockstrap instead of undies."
"Anything else?" Matt didn't want to delay any longer. He was about to receive his first blow job! He still remembered the first time he'd heard the words "blow job"—in a locker room, of course. Guys bragging about what their girlfriends had done over the weekend. Matt had wondered how blowing on a dick was anything special.
"Yeah. I'm going to blow you. No bucking and trying to ram your dick down my throat. And if you even think of putting your hands on my head and pushing me further onto your dick, I swear I'll bite it off." William paused to allow his warning to sink in.
William bent to Matt's cock and placed one hand at the base of the shaft, squeezing slightly, pulling the skin even tauter. He then started flicking his tongue on the frenulum (Matt didn't know the term at the time, would learn later that it is the small "v" just below the head, where the foreskin—or in his case the remnants of one—meets the underside).
Matt whimpered. His cock dribbled pre-cum.
William licked the underside of the shaft, lapping up the pre-cum as if it were ice cream dripping from a bar. He nuzzled Matt's scrotum, sucking bits of it into his mouth, while with one hand he lightly stroked the shaft.
Matt, arms on the headrest, back arched, butt clinched, stared down into William's doe eyes, begging for release. The pleasure was excruciatingly exquisite, washing over him in waves. His cock strained, desperate to discharge, but unable to do so because William controlled the tempo.
Finally, William eased Matt's cockhead into his mouth. His lips formed a seal just under the ridge. Matt thought that surely now William would allow him and his cock to cross over to the Promised Land. That was not to be. William cocooned the cockhead in his mouth, bathing it with his tongue, teasing the slit, milking ever more pre-cum into his mouth.
Matt's triceps bulged with the effort of restraining his body from bucking. His legs stiffened and his toes curled—all in an effort to help his dick across the finish line.
William slurped Matt's cock like a popsicle. His tongue curled around the underside of the shaft, gliding over the thick vein that supplied it with blood. The shaft glistened with saliva and pre-cum.
William fondled Matt's balls.
That was all it took to push Matt over the edge. He shot streams of hot, sticky cum into William's mouth.
Just when Matt thought he was finished, William gave Matt's balls a gentle tug and moved his lips lower on the shaft. "HOLY SHIT!" Matt gushed. That was the last thing he remembered before a numbing euphoric buzz engulfed him.