Well, I told you that you were getting a story about an odd, "evolving" relationship. Now you've been introduced to Russ. Here we go. I'm not a good sleeper, I'm just not. I twitch, I wake up, walk around the bedroom, visit the bathroom, go back to sleep for a few hours, repeat. So I was really very surprised when, with Russ' body next to mine, I slept through the whole night. So did he. With his mouth opened, and loud, but funny snores coming out. (Let me just say that, yes, air came out the other end too, and I had to do something about the sheets the next day, but...). So, as I began to stir, at oh, 10:30 or so on Sunday morning, I began wondering how I would fulfill my hosting duties. To be honest, I had no intention of starting them until this big, Irish Spring (or Old Spice) smelling lug of a man got up. I'm serious. My "tribe" as it were is obsessed with "product" and "new scents" and yadda yadda. I'm guilty as charged too. I think there was one point where I had a different scent for each day of the week. Russ smelled, well, a mixture of "clean": that kind of soft astringency you get when someone just went over the gym - and a scent I hadn't experienced since I was a young boy. On those few times that my father was around, if he'd hug me, I'd smell something very clean, very fresh. He had a bar of soap I wasn't allowed to use. My mom told me later it was "Irish Spring." She would imitate the commercial "Manly yes. But I like it too." I laughed to myself as I got closer to Russ to get a stronger smell. I had to admit: maybe he wasn't "state of the art 'mo," but there was a really pleasant solidity to him that I found more than appealing and, as I realized, somewhat arousing.
I whispered into his ear "Hey sleepyhead. Interested in having something to eat? Some eggs? Some French Toast? " Grandmere's maison was a place right down the street that did a booming takeout on Sunday for croissants (they'd be gone by now), and really good breakfasts. "BRUNCH? What is this brunch? Breakfast and lunch are fine" the woman who said she was "grandmere" said to me once. I figured we'd go there. Russ bolted up. "What the?" He looked at me. "Lane. Did I? " I could tell he was checking to see if he was sore. When he realized he wasn't, he continued. "Holy shit! What time is it?" " "Nearly 11, stud?" Want some breakfast? My treat" "11????? OH SHIT. I gotta go. I gotta get to Maritza's." (I learned, later, that Maritza was his girlfriend. At that time). We're supposed to go out today. Where the..." "You have time for a shower, Russ?" He was frantic, grabbing for his clothes. "No, No. It's... I'll run to a gym branch and... OH, I'm gonna be in deep shit." He pulled his clothes on. "Thanks for the stay, Lane. I really appreciate it. Let me call you next time I can. Take care." And just like that, Russ was gone. Was it my breath? I kinda shrugged my shoulders, I mean, I'm a veteran of my share of one nighters, and I COULD treat this as that, but... I felt very responsible for how he was acting. I waited several hours and called him. I left a message. "Hey Russ. Lane here. Listen, if you wanna talk about Saturday night or anything else, just let me know. We'll sit at that bar again, or someplace you pick. Wherever. I'm just concerned." I didn't get an answer. I tried again a week later, and then a week after that. "Oh well," I thought. You know how they have those lists of things like "100 things to eat before you die?" or "255 places to visit before you get married?" that kinda stuff. I wondered if there were one for gays: "100 things to do while you still can." Would jerking off on a straight man's chest be on the list? (Of course, at the time I thought russ was straight, but we'll get to that). Anyway, I just stopped and russ sort of faded from my mind. Occasionally for a while I'd get a "hey, who was that guy at your party? He was cute" kinda thing, but the tribe is what it is. We moved on.
Then I got a call one day. I didn't recognize the number, but I was kinda frazzled and I picked it up. "This is Lane" A big, boisterous voice came from the other end "HEY LANE! RUSS HERE. How's it going?" Know how on Star Trek, Scotty will say "shields up captain?" You got it. Southern boys can, as momma said "spill out a voice of honey mixed with bee venom." So it was. "Russ, I'd be lying if I said I expected to hear from you. " I stopped there. No questions. "Hey, Lane, sorry dude. My mind was like, totally screwed from that night. I've been a prick." I didn't keep it to myself. "Yes, russ, yes you have. You could have at least let me know you were ok." "Well, dude, I wasn't. Not your fault, mine. But listen, I'm at work and I shouldn't talk this way." "Bridges tell no tales, russ" I observed and he laughed. "Listen, I got all this coming I know. But I'm in the city tonight and I wondered if you wanted to catch a drink or something?" I looked at my watch to make sure I wasn't lying when I declined. It was 6. "I'm afraid that's not possible Russ. Remember, I work in the evening, and I need to be at the theater at 6:30" The boisterous voice came back "Hey, no problem dude. Maybe another time. Listen I gotta go. Maybe I can see Maritza earlier. Be well, dude." I smiled, and if anyone had seen me, they would have thought it was a tight acidic smile. So, I was the stop on his way to his girlfriend. Turning him down was the right thing. I packed up the bag that I always took with me: needles, thimbles, thread, spot remover, and off I went.
Just another Friday night in the big city.
"HEY. LANE!!!!!" I heard a loud, familiar voice from behind. I had just come out of the stage door, said goodnight to my favorite dancers, and was heading home. I had decided to treat myself to a cab: hell, it was Friday. The voice. It couldn't be. I turned around. It was. There was russ, sort of shouldering his way through the crowd. Before I knew it, I was wrapped up in those arms. "How you been, buddy, it's been too long." Yeah, it had been. He still smelled good, and he still FELT good "Don't do it Lane. Don't do it." I kept on telling myself. "Russ, it's nearly 11. Did you...." He smiled. "Yeah, I saw the programs of your show so I looked up where the theater was, and I just waited. " "When did you get here?" "Oh, about 9:30." "HUH? You've been here for an hour and a half?" "Well, I wanted to see ya and, to tell the truth, I don't have anywhere to go." "YOU COULD HAVE GONE HOME RUSS!" His smile faded. "Yeah, I could've . You're right. Listen bud, I'll leave. I know I pissed you off. Truth is, Maritza dumped me tonight. I just packed up some stuff." He pointed to the bag at his feet, "and I got out. " "And..." I said "now the trains have stopped running. " "Well, yeah, that's kinda what it is." He had on jeans. And a blazer. And a white button down shirt. He must've had something special planned for Martiza. He had his hands shoved into his pockets and... DAMN he looked so cute. "You wanted to stay. And run out tomorrow." "Well... I wanted to stay, Lane. If you'd let me. I don't know about tomorrow." "Neither do I russ. All I know about tomorrow is I've got a matinee to work." He reached down for his bag. "I understand. No problem dude. I'll camp out on a chair at the station until the first train." He held out his hand. "Nice seeing you." Yeah, I did it. Sort of. "WAIT. You can stay." I saw him smile and I held out my hand in a STOP motion. "You sleep on the sofa. No bed sharing." "AW, c'mon Lane. We had a good time and, I sat on that couch. It's as hard as..." He COULD have said "you" and he would've been right. I DID want him in my bed. "If you answer something truthfully, Russ, and you'd best believe, I'll know if it is, you can sleep in the bed. " "Ok, dude, ask away." "Why did you run out in the morning like that and not answer my calls?" "Dude..." his voice dropped. "I was scared." "SCARED? Scared of what?" His voice dropped even lower. "I thought you wanted to fuck me." Well, THAT was an honest answer and it deserved an honest reply. "Russ, I DO want to fuck you. But I'm not gonna overpower you and take you by force. You know that. And I wouldn't do it unless you wanted it anyway." He grinned. "Overpowering me and taking me by force. Now THAT sounds hot." I began to laugh. It did. "Tell you what? You can stay, BUT... you need to do two things." He smiled. "Your wish is my command Sir." I grinned. "First, you're paying for the cab." "DONE!" "Second" I grinned. "You're gonna blow me." I saw his face drain for a minute. "Well, I never blew a guy before, dude. I'll disappoint you." "Number one, I'm a good teacher. Number two, I'll be the judge of how well you do." (Note that I did NOT indulge my melodramatic side and say 'I'm used to being disappointed.'
When the cab pulled up (he offered to call an uber, but that would've been on his company account and NO, he was gonna pay for this), he asked the guy to pop the trunk to put his bag in it. When he bent over, I smacked his ass. "OOOOOH. THANK YOU SIR" he giggled, and reddened. "Just get in the car stud." "Yes sir." Hmmm. This was going better than I thought.
It wasn't that long a ride to my place, but before we went to my apartment, we stopped at the 24 hour drug store in the neighborhood. I live in the gayest neighborhood in the city (at least for now), and even at 11:45, the cast of characters in there were, as always, interesting. "Did you get your toiletries when you left?" "Nope. Just my clothes. Barely." "Ok, grab the deodorant you use. And the shaving cream. And some razors. And a toothbrush." "Dude you don't have extras?" I laughed. "Ok, you're right about the toothbrush and the razors, but you are NOT using my deodorant." I grabbed a 3 pack of Irish Spring soap. "DUDE. That's the kind I use. How did you know?" I smiled. "Tell ya later." I looked up, and ... he was gone again. I heard a "WOOF" from two aisles down and figured... yup, there he was, staring at the row after row of condoms. "SO MANY KINDS" he said. "Maritza wanted me to try the ribbed ones." "She's a smart girl" I answered. "HEY, " he suddenly looked up. "Do I look ugly?" "You look fine. Why? " "Someone just walked by and made a dog noise at me." "Woof?" "YEAH. That one." I started to laugh. "DUDE. " I imitated his voice. "It's CODE. GAY CODE. It means he thought you were hot." "You guys bark like dogs when someone is.... never mind. I got a lot to learn."
After we got in to my aparment, and threw it on the sofa. "Nope. Closet. There's space. And extra hangers." "Thanks dude. I could just throw it on the sofa." "YOU MOST CERTAINLY COULD NOT. That is a Brooks Brothers' blazer and you will take proper care of it." He called me SIR for the third time that night. "Dude, you got any beer, the breakup was, well, ugly." "Beer? For a breakup? Hell, you straight guys don't know how to do things. One second." I came back with a VERY small glass of my old grandad bourbon. "You wanna talk about it?" He looked away from me. He was catching his breath. "Dude. I don't know how to say this: you're the reason for the breakup." "ME? How the.... WHAT? Okay, as they say on tv 'lucy, you got some 'splainin to do." "I SAW THAT EPISODE! " He perked up. "FUCKING FUNNY." I began thinking "a frat boy is gonna blow me." "Focus russ. Focus. Tell me. Wait. I need one of those." I came back with a drink for myself. I could see the bourbon beginning to have an effect. He wasn't getting anymore. Getting blown by a drunk is... unpleasant. "You want the long version or the short version, dude?" He asked. "Your choice. I'm used to being up late. You look like you're going to fall asleep and... that's not happening for a while. " He chugged his drink while I winced. "Dude, I don't know how to say this. I been playing over us since the party. The train station, the drink, spending the night... I get hard every time." "I'll take that as a compliment" I said. "Well, it's effected me. Short version: I was in bed with Maritza. I was thinking of how you jerked yourself. I tried to imitate the rhythm and I remembered you on my chest. And when I came in her..." "You yelled my name." Now I chugged MY drink. "YEAH! It's like you were there." (Sometimes, I think I was). Did she leave any marks?" "Nah. She tried, but .... I should've known something was not gonna go right. I asked her to play with my nipples. " "Did she?" "She did but... you're better at it." "BOING " went my cock. "I'll do it again if you want." "You will?" It was the biggest smile I had seen on him all night. "Just remember what you gotta do, big boy. Now, open your shirt." He looked at me. "You're right again. " I started undressing him. He closed his eyes and breathed hard. "OH YEAH. OH YES SIR." Who taught him that? This boy had some secrets I didn't know. Well, I got that shirt opened (I think the fabric hurt my fingers), and started doing my magic. "OH FUCK. OH FUCK. It's better than I remember, Sir. OH FUCK. " I began thinking daddy issues. Molestation. Thank God I was wrong. I played with them for a while, and then, I stopped. "Kissing?" I asked. His puppy dog eyes answered, and I pressed my lips. "MMMMMM. When my tongue slipped in, he grabbed it. THIS was the neediest boy I had ever encountered. And I loved it. "Ok, stud. You're gonna have to earn your bed." He gulped. "Do I have to?" I shook my head. "A deal is a deal." "Are you gonna..." I finished his question "cum in your mouth? Not tonight. But you're gonna clean it up. Now, on your knees, in front of me, like you're praying." THAT seemed to resonate. I began to think: religious background, something in the minister's office (as I learned, I was getting warmer). I unzipped my jeans (I was too heavy to make 501s look good). Ok. Slowly. Ever eat Maritza's pussy?" The face he made told me he hadn't. I almost laughed. "Ok, get out your tongue and lick the head. " He was tentative, and his strokes were short. But he did it. Now slide your mouth down. If you begin to choke, stop. I don't want to feel teeth." He moved very slowly, which was fine for me because , like the kissing, his technique was amateur. He got about halfway down (I have a generous 7 cut inches), and stopped. "Now, I'm gonna ease you, little by little, russ." My hand was on the back of his head and I pushed him ever so gently. "GOOD. GOOD BOY." (STOP IT LANE! I thought to myself. You're not training a pup. Although... maybe I was). He let go of my cock. "I can't get any more of it in my mouth Sir." Before we continued I asked "I didn't tell you to call me Sir, why are you doing that?" "I'll stop if you want me to, but... you seemed so in charge that..." "Dude, keep saying it," I told him. "Now, go down as far as you did, but slide back and then forward. And do it again. I'm gonna grab your tits again, so be careful of your teeth. "Lane's Licks: blowjobs for beginners. I swear, I could've opened a school after that blow job. I mean, I have never wanted to fall asleep during one before russ, but I figured, correctly, this was a step in his training. I began to get harder, and I began to moan . I yanked my cock out so hard, he fell forward. "GOOD GOOD BOY!" I yelled, as my cum flew across my floor. I smiled and ruffled his hair. "You did right fine, lad. Right fine." He smiled. "Do I get a grade Sir?" If I had graded him, it would've been a C+/B-. I didn't want to discourage him. "Not on the first try. Next time. Now... before you clean up mine, lay on the floor, unzip your pants. "Yes sir," he answered. He looked scared when I took off my shoe. I began nudging his balls with my foot. "FUCK THAT FEELS GOOD. OH SHIT. OH SHITOHSHITOHSHIT." For the second time, my new project exploded. Most of it got on him, but some did get on the floor. "Hang on stud. I'm gonna go get a cum rag. You can use it to get up the stuff. Then you can get cleaned up before bed." "Yes sir." I brought back the rag and he got to work. I stepped behind him and I ran my hand over his ass. "Next time, russ, this is mine. You're gonna get your cherry popped." "Yes sir. Will it hurt Sir?" I sneered. "I hope so. If I do it right."