Waiting for a Miracle

WAITING FOR A MIRACLE

By Donny Mumford

Chapter 3... Am I Ready For What?

Mark asked me if I'm ready for 'this.' Well, I don't know if I am or not because I don't know what 'this' is, although it's sure to be something new to me. What the hell, I'm not stupid, I mean, he was talking about the 'ass-grabbing' we missed at the senior trip, and he said I'm 'cute,' so the 'this' he's referring to is gay-oriented for sure. I'm curious and interested.

Meanwhile, Charlie Snyder's older brother is buying a couple of six-packs of beer for us underage guys, and I've already chipped in five bucks, so maybe I should stay with Dean and tie a beer 'load' on with those guys. Except that would be the old me doing my old 'thinking' and my 'old' ways. My new 'thinking' is I should stay here with Mark to follow through finding out what exactly he meant by asking if I'm ready for 'this.'

Not going with Dean was a ballsy move for me, but I need to be ballsy if I ever expect to experience something fresh, something exciting and new. Plus, I feel I need to make up for a probably missed opportunity last night when Joe Lions asked if I'd ever 'messed-around' with another guy. That question had 'gay' inferences all over it.

Mark and I are still sitting here at this table in the bowling alley, drinking oranges sodas. He's texting with someone while I'm watching Dean and the other guys screwing around with the girls behind the counter in the food court. I've gotta break this need of mine to have Dean as my security blanket in social situations. That's true, but damn, is it necessary I start being the 'new' me tonight? I hardly know Mark, and I'm already second-guessing myself about maybe tonight is not the night I start anew.

Then, the decision is made for me 'cause Dean and the guys are all walking for the exit. Mark looks up from his cell phone and points at the door, saying, "Good, they're finally leaving." He puts his phone in his pocket and says, "Guess what?" and he takes hold of my wrist, pulling my hand in front of him. I'm like, "What...?" Mark mutters, "Be cool, Mattie," and he turns my hand over, so the palm is facing up. Still holding my hand, Mark looks up at me and gives me a grin, mumbling, "I'm gonna read your palm, that's what."

Omigod, it feels good the way he's gently holding my hand. Mark stares at the palm of my hand while I look at his red hair. Except for the front hairs that are stiffly sticking up, the rest of his hair looks soft and, um, it's a cool shade of pale red. I've never seen anyone with that color of hair before. As I'm fighting off the urge to touch his head, Mark gets my attention by moving the pad of his index finger, following a line of my palm. Jesus that makes me shudder slightly, but I shuddered in a good way.

Now he looks right in my eyes, grinning and saying, "I studied palm reading online. It's pretty simple. Look where my finger is. See this line? It's called a 'head-line,' and your line splits. That means you're sensitive to others, and you can easily see someone else's perspective." My hand feels wonderful in Mark's hand as he moves the pad of his finger on another part of my palm, and says, "This other line is your 'heart-line'. You see, this line is short, and it curves over to end here at the base of your middle finger. That means you prefer opening-up emotionally only in a one-on-one setting." I nod and mutter, "Oh..."

Continuing to hold my hand, Mark asks, "How am I doing so far?" I stammer, "Good, um, I think. I'm not sure, but it sounds, um..." He tightens his hand on mine and says, "I like holding your hand." He said that in a serious manner but the words don't compute in my brain, so I assume he's joking and I laugh but stop short when he doesn't laugh. He moves his hand so that now he's holding hands with me how boyfriends and girlfriends hold hands. Hmm, I don't know what the expression on his face is indicating. Then Mark does laugh as he shakes my hand the way you do when you meet someone. He says, "Hi, nice to meet you."

Naturally, I don't know what the hell is going on. Letting go of my hand, Mark drinks some of his soda and then asks, "Do you smoke a lot of grass, Mattie?" That quick change in subject is abrupt, while I'm still thinking about my hand. Hmm, I don't want to pull it away because that could be construed as rude, so I leave it where Mark dropped it, and say, "Huh? Do I smoke a lot of grass? Um, no, not really. I smoke it whenever I get the chance, though."

Seemingly satisfied with my answer, Mark changes the subject again, asking, "What's your secret dream? Do you have something you wish would happen in your life?" My face gets red as I go, "I don't know, um..." He says, "That's alright; you don't have to tell me." Yeah, well, I leave it at that.

Everyone has left, and now it's odd being here, just Mark and me. It's like when I was left alone with Jello's brother Bruce that time at Kent Park. Well, that turned out okay. Mark touches my arm, asking, "Did I mention we need to drive to Darby?" I frown at that, and he cheerfully says, "What? Oh no! Did I forget to mention that? Yeah, I need to meet up with my 'contact' man, Dennis, um, who happens to be in Darby at the moment."

He never said a word about that. I mutter, "What? You're saying you don't have the pot on you?" He takes his pocket comb out and casually combs up his hair in front, mumbling, "Yeah, that's right, I don't have the joints on me." Confused, I give him a 'look.' He grins brightly and then reaches across the table to comb through the hair that's drooped down onto my forehead again, asking, "When was the last time you were at a barbershop, dude?" Pulling my head back, I push his arm away, mumbling, "I don't know. So, um, you're going to buy joints from whatshisname in Darby?"

Mark stands up, "Hey, don't push my fucking arm, alright?" and, standing behind me now, he combs my hair straight back from my forehead, saying, "You have nice hair." What the fuck? This is weird, but, me being me, I sit here and let him do it as I mutter, "Thanks." I've decided that Mark is definitely the touchy/feely type. He's comfortable touching you when saying something to you. The opposite is true of me, obviously.

Done combing my hair, Mark sits down again, and, as he's putting his comb back in his pocket, he says, "Uh-huh, Dennis has two primo joints earmarked for me. It's almost the same thing as me having them on my person, so to speak." I have to chuckle 'cause that is plain, old-fashioned bullshit. Naturally, I can't think of something to say, but so what? I'm kinda glad to be hanging out with him.

He's cute, as I've mentioned, and brazen as hell too. Smirking at me, nodding at my hair, he asks, "How does your hair feel now that I combed it for you?" Shrugging, I say, "It feels fine, but how can you be so sure this guy will have joints for sale?" He says, "You wouldn't ask that if you knew Dennis." I shrug, and he grins, saying, "Ya know what, you'd look awesome with a haircut like mine."

Huh, I'm flattered he cares what I look like, so I go, "Really? Which barbershop do you go to?" The hair at the front of his head is short, and he combs it up, but the rest of the hair on his head isn't especially short. It's grown over the tops of his ears, so he hasn't been to a barbershop recently either. He says, "My barbershop is in the ACE Hardware plaza... Sport Cuts. All girl barbers who mostly flirt with me. You can come with me next time and ask for a haircut like mine." As I nod my head at that, he stands up to pull on my arm, mumbling, "C'mon, let's go now."

Hmm, obviously, Mark doesn't have a car, which is why he asked me earlier if I had 'wheels.' I may not be good at 'reading' people, but I'm pretty sure all that bullshit about me being his first choice as a roommate for the senior class trip was said so I'd drive him to Darby. I suppose that should piss me off, but it doesn't. He could have gotten a ride with someone else if he was willing to share his grass as he's doing with me. I'm glad he chose me, and I like all the touching he does, plus I'm not forgetting that he said maybe we could make up for the 'grab-assing' we didn't get to do on the senior trip. As I said, I don't know what 'grab-assing' he has in mind, but any 'grab-assing' by Mark will probably be good.

As we walk toward the door, Mark keeps his hand on the back of my neck as if I don't know the way out. I don't mind that at all. As we walk, I go, "Um, Mark, for the record... what exactly is the, ah, the 'this' you wanna know if I'm ready for?" He says, "Smoking some good shit. What'd you think I meant?" I shrug, "Oh, nothing." No, he's lying. I know he meant something else, something gay... I'm pretty sure he did.

When we're at my car, Mark's hand is still holding the back of my neck, and now he squeezes my neck, exclaiming, "Hey, ya got a cool car here, Mattie!" Oh man, I lean back against his hand, and he chuckles, mumbling, "Hey, you like me doing this, don't ya?" He sort of roughly hugs me pulling me against him, my back against his chest, my ass against his groin. It makes me shudder and go limp. He murmurs, "Yeah, you like it," and then he lets go of me. I don't know why he's doing this, but I liked it, he was right about that.

Embarrassed that I was apparently too obviously enjoying his touching, I try sounding pissed off, muttering, "Don't mess around, okay, Mark?" He snickers as I adjust my glasses, and then get my key 'thingamajig' out of my pocket. As I unlock the car doors, Mark walks around to the passenger side, saying, "Dude, that messing around was nothing compared to the level of 'grab assing' that went on in bed during the senior trip. Heh, heh, and I'm betting you'd have loved it!" I mumble, "I'm sure I don't know what you mean," and a second later, I ask, "Um, what kind of 'grab-assing'?" He gets in the car, saying, "Nevermind, let's go, I told Dennis I'd be there before nine o'clock."

Following Mark's directions, I drive on some scary back roads through downtown Darby. Darby is a scary place to start with. When he tells me to, I park at the curb. Christ, I'm thinking that if I were alone, I wouldn't stop here, and nevermind getting out of the car. It's dark, and there are no street lights, and now I'm again second-guessing myself for agreeing to do this. Mark opens his door, mumbling, "Yeah, Dennis's place is the one with plywood nailed over the front window." Jesus, I only see lights in two houses from the ten or twelve attached row homes. Are these abandoned houses?

Sticking close to Mark, I follow him to the front door. He knocks, and the door opens immediately. A pale complexed, very tall guy, says, "Hi. C'mon in, Markie." Mark's friend has long, curly hair to his shoulders, which looks like shit. Other than that, he's okay looking, although he's older than Mark and me.

After kissing Mark quickly, the tall guy holds out his hand to me, saying, "Hi, I'm Dennis Hover. What's your name?" I'm startled that they kissed, so I go, "Huh?" then shake his hand tentatively. He holds onto my hand until Mark answers for me, saying, "This cute dude's name is Matthew Burke. He'd like to smoke a couple of joints with us, Dennis. Hope ya don't mind."

Dennis lets go of my hand and cups my chin pulling my head up to look closely at me. He says, "Do I mind? No, I don't mind." Under the best circumstances, I have very little to say. In this situation, I have less than that to say. My heart is pounding fast and hard, and, mostly, I want to be someplace else. Since there doesn't appear to be any chance of that happening, I follow Mark and his friend into what I assume is a living room. It's in poor shape, and then we keep walking into a shabby kitchen. The kitchen smells of Cambell's tomato soup.

Dennis nods his head at me, asking Mark, "Is he, you know?" and Mark says, "I thought he was, but I don't know now." Dennis taps my head with a finger and asks me straight out, "Are you gay?" Unable to get any words formed, I shake my head, and Mark goes, "Oh, c'mon, Mattie. You're gay, right?" I shake my head again and manage to mumble, "Uh uh." They both laugh, then Dennis says, "He's alright." He pulls a fat joint out of a pocket and lights it.

Then it hits me! This situation could turn into a fantastic opportunity. Yeah, I'll get wicked 'high' and maybe get the chance to make out with Mark, or even have gay-sex with him. Haha, if I get 'high' enough, maybe I won't care about germs, and I'll be able to suck his dick. Not Dennis's dick, though. He's not cute, but I guess he's okay for an older guy. Shit, though, I'm really, really out of my element here. The facts are these... I'm not sure where the hell we are, I hardly know Mark, and I've never met this other guy before in my life!

Still, I try to be calm 'cause this is the best chance I've ever had to finally experience something 'gay.' Omigod, though, I can't fucking breathe! Glancing around the kitchen, it's like a kitchen in a movie about the nineteen-forties. Old-looking sink and stove, plus there's a red Formica kitchen table that's seen better days. Oh, and only two chairs, both of which are being used by Mark and Dennis.

I stand behind Mark's chair as he goes, "Ya got any booze to go with our joints, Denny?" Dennis says to me, "Hon, you don't need to stand. You can share a seat with one of us," and he moves halfway off the seat he's sitting on. I go, "No, that's okay," and they both laugh.

My glasses are totally fogged up from the heat coming off my face, so I take them off and try cleaning them on my t-shirt. Dennis says to me, "Um, what's your name, hon? Sorry, but I've already forgotten it. I'm terrible with names." I manage to grunt, "Matt," and he says, "Well, Matt, would you be a dear and get us some beers from the refrigerator behind you, please?" He's pointing at something, obviously, the refrigerator, although I've never seen one like it. Putting my glasses back on, I open the door and bring out a six-pack of Budweiser beers.

The beer was the only thing in there. As I'm putting the six-pack on the table, I watch Mark inhaling deeply from the fat joint. The size of the joint kinda mesmerizes me, and I've made the mistake of standing too close to Dennis, who pulls on my arm, saying, "C'mon, you can share this seat with me. I won't bite you." To avoid a pulling-contest, I tentatively sit next to him, and he puts an arm around me. Dammit, I should have shared Mark's chair when I had the chance!

Dennis smells of perfume, or maybe it's expensive cologne. He's very thin and, as I said, tall. Maybe six-foot-three or even a little taller than that. I'm sitting here, nervous as hell, while this Dennis person seems very relaxed. He takes the marijuana joint from Mark and inhales a big drag off it as Mark grins at me and, even though I'm very nervous, I grin back at him because he's so damn cute.

Exhaling a long stream of smoke, Dennis coughs and mutters, "Oh, fuck, that's good shit," and then he holds the joint to my lips, saying, "Not too big a puff, hon, this is some strong shit." I take a small drag and hold the smoke in the way you're supposed to. One of them, Mark or Dennis, 'lipped' it so much the joint felt wet on my lips. My germ phobia gets me thinking about the saliva on the joint, but when exhaling, I'm so dizzy I stop thinking about germs.

There's no talking as we drink beer and smoke pot. Dennis is feeding me Bud beer from the same can he's drinking from. Sharing a beer can isn't something I'm into, but what choice do I have? I'm hoping he doesn't have hoof and mouth disease or something worse. Dennis also holds the joint to my mouth when it's my turn. Well, whatever!

The pot is very strong, so I become amazingly comfortable with this bizarre situation and don't even mind when Dennis rubs the side of his face against mine, saying, "Mmm, you smell nice, Matt." He's okay. We're all different, and to each their own, ya know?

By the time we've smoked the joint down to a roach, we've also finishing off three of the beers with Dennis and I sharing two of them. Dennis says, "Mattie, don't you think sitting on my lap would be a better idea than squeezed together, sharing half a chair seat?" I mutter, "I don't know." He's stronger than he looks as he partially lifts me off the seat and onto his lap, and then I squirm around until we're both comfortable. Dennis puts both arms around me, and I'm okay with that 'cause I'm 'stoned'.

Dennis and Mark talk about a party someone named Mouse is having next Saturday night in Philly. He's saying that Mark should bring me to the party. I say nothing. I'm feeling fuzzy, lying back against Dennis while listening to their voices. I'm listening to the sound of their voices more than the words being spoken. Mark's voice is very youthful-sounding, and Dennis's speaking voice is almost hypnotic. The combination seems somehow dreamy and very nice to listen to. I feel contented and safe.

Casually, Dennis rests a hand in my lap now, the hand just lying there on my pecker. As Mark passes Dennis a beer, he says to me, "What do you think, Mattie? Can you drive to Philly next Saturday night?" I nod my head, not wanting to talk for fear it will spoil my dreamy mood. Mark goes, "That's cool, but just so ya know, you'll be my date, not Dennis's." Dennis softly says, "Why don't we let Mattie decide which one of us will be his date? You could always invite Beck." Mark chuckles, mumbling, "As if your boyfriend would be okay with you bringing Mattie as your date. Ha!" Hmm, it's weird, but Mark's head looks loose. Like his neck is having trouble holding it up.

Dennis pops the tab on another beer. He takes a couple of big swallows before holding the can to my lips. As I drink, Dennis kisses my neck, and I don't mind that either. Mark says, "Ya know, Den, I shouldn't even need to pay you for my half of the joints. I brought you a present named Mattie... heh heh. And I think I'm getting jealous."

That's interesting. Dennis mutters, "Well, let's see how this goes. Maybe I won't charge you." He puts his hand in between my legs and presses it against my package. I grin at him noticing he's clean-shaven, which is getting rarer and rarer for guys in his age group. I also notice he has pretty green eyes. He grins back at me and squeezes my crotch again. I go, "No, don't, Dennis." Undeterred, he does another squeeze, mumbling, "Could you unsnap your shorts, Matt?" and he takes a second fat joint out of his shirt pocket. Letting go of my crotch, Dennis lights the joint. And, no, I'm not unsnapping my shorts. I don't know, but if I were on Mark's lap, I probably would have.

Mark has been grinning at me and nodding his loose head as though I'm doing something good, and I'm not doing anything. Well, I swallow beer when Dennis feeds it to me, and I take a drag off the second joint when he holds it to my lips. Other than that, I'm not doing anything except lying back very comfortably against Dennis, who is seeming nicer by the second. His hand is back down, holding tightly to my crotch. Huh, that strikes me as funny now, so I giggle every time he squeezes my junk. My giggling gets Mark and Dennis giggling too. In no time, we're all giggling so hard we spill beer down our chins. Dennis says, "That's quite a boner, Mattie," and we all bust a nut laughing at that. Fuck, this is fun!

But, yeah, it was obvious to me from the start that this grass is laced with something, probably cocaine. It's the strongest weed I've ever smoked. I like it, though. I like that it's gotten me so relaxed I almost feel like a normal teenager using typically bad teen-judgment having ill-advised fun with friends... a unique occurrence for me.

Dennis and I finish our shared fourth can of beer at the same time Mark finishes his second, plus we're almost finished this second fat joint. I'm in La-La land. Then, Dennis gets my head face to face, and he kisses me on the mouth, his tongue sloppily sliding across mine. It's so shocking to me I react like I've been punched and struggle so hard I slide off Dennis's lap.

Dennis says, "Oops, be careful," and he helps me get back on his lap. Mark didn't see that because he was looking at his cell phone, mumbling, "The Phillies lost again." Then, as if nothing unusual happened, Mark asks, "Do ya got anything else to drink, Denny?" Dennis squeezes my pecker and then tells me, "Sorry, Mattie, but you'll need to get up again 'cause our friend, Mark, wants more booze," and when I stand, he goes to a kitchen cabinet and pulls a half-full bottle of Seagram's Seven out, handing it to Mark. Hmm, I happen to know Seagram Seven is not a great whiskey. As a matter of fact, Seagram Seven is not as good as the whiskey Dean had to celebrate my new job.

On the other hand, beggars can't be choosey, I suppose. Dennis then pulls open a drawer, and he has another fat joint in his hand. He goes, "My treat," and Mark says, "You rock, Dennis!"

Dennis smirks, mumbling, "Aren't you glad you came?" He sits down and then motions for me to sit on his lap again. I do that, and we squirm around again until we're comfortable, but a second later, Dennis mutters, "Nah, this isn't perfect," and he rearranges me, so I'm sitting sideways on his lap. My right arm, seemingly on its own, goes around the back of his neck as both his arms hold me around my waist. He snuggles his face against the side of my neck, murmuring, "Comfortable, Mattie?" I nod my head and hunch my shoulders because his face against my neck has given me chills.

After squeezing my waist, he takes an arm away, and, in between the swallows of whiskey he's feeding me, he holds the joint to my lips, and I take a toke. As I'm exhaling, I lay my head partially against Dennis's shoulder and partially against the side of his face. He brushes my hair away from his mouth, saying, "You need a haircut." I murmur, "Yeah, everyone tells me that." Ya know, I don't think I have ever been this relaxed before in my life

I don't know when it was that Mark went to sleep, but I don't give it a second thought seeing him sleeping at the table with his head on his arms. Dennis says, "Well, look at that... hahaha. Mark conked out on us, Mattie," and he holds the roach to my lips. I take a big inhale, and as I hold it in, Dennis pulls down the zipper on my shorts.

He fumbles at the button and then quietly says, "Would you help me get the button undone?" My right arm is across Dennis's shoulders now, for support. With my left hand, I struggle to get the button on my shorts undone. Then, between the two of us, we do that, and Dennis pulls my semi-hard cock out through my underwear's fly. He strokes my cock twice and stops, saying, "If you don't want me to do this, I won't." I grab a fistful of the long curly hair at the back of his head and slur, "I don't know what I should say."

Apparently, Dennis doesn't know either, so we sit like this for a minute, his hand remaining around my cock. In my foggy brain, I realize that, other than my hand, Dennis's is the only one that's ever stroked my cock. He reaches past me to put the roach in an empty Bud can; then, he pick up the bottle of whiskey. After he takes a swig, he swallows and goes, "Oh, Jesus, that sucks." He holds the bottle to my mouth, but I turn my head away. Whoa, for a few seconds, I don't know where I am. Wait, this is my chance for something gay. It's not with Mark, unfortunately, but my cock is already a hard boner, and Dennis's hand is feeling nice. What the hell, my head drops against his head again as I murmur, "Go ahead."

Dennis's left arm tightens around my waist as he strokes up and down on my boner with his right hand. Omigod, that feels so strange, so good, so fabulous. In short order, my legs go straight out in front of me, stiff as logs. Meanwhile, fabulous pleasure sensations are building and building until I'm almost raising off Dennis's lap and then, "Oohhh! Ahhh!" I groan with cum streaking from my hard penis and then, "Ahhh!" as more of my semen flies out. The stroking slows as I shudder, and then my body is limp. Dennis whispers, "I can do other things for you if you'd like."

My body shudders again, and now I'm disoriented and feeling queasy, although conscious enough to know this isn't normal. What am I doing here? Dennis is rubbing cum off his hand on his shorts. My cock is still hanging outside my shorts, flaccid now. Taking my arm from around Dennis's neck, I use both hands, putting my cock back in my underpants and then zipper and button my shorts. Neither he nor I say anything. I'm wondering, what should I do now?

Glancing quickly at Mark sleeping on the table, I then turn my head to look at Dennis, asking, "What should I do?" Dennis's pretty green eyes look glassy. He says, "Whatever you do, don't think about driving." My arm is back around his neck, and his arms go back around my waist as we both squirm a bit getting comfortable all over again. I sigh and then murmur, "I won't, but that handjob felt good." He asks, "That wasn't your first, was it? Surely you've fucked around with a friend before this."

I don't want him to think I'm a retard in that regard, but I answer honestly anyway, mumbling, "I've never, um, had a friend who I messed around with like this," and, unbelievably, I start telling Dennis, a total stranger, things I've never told another living soul. I can't stop talking; I'm telling him every secret I have, including my fantasies involving my cousin, Lewis, then my fantasy about making out with 'Jello' Springer, then about my infatuation with Joe Lions and anything else I can think of. I even include Jello's brother Bruce who gave me a ride on his motorcycle to the bowling alley last week and how I was wishing he'd invite me to do 'something' with him.

When I'm out of breath, Dennis quietly asks, "Did you give any of these guys an indication of your, um, gay-oriented interest in them?" I had to admit that I not only didn't do that but did the opposite. I say, "Mostly, I blame my hesitancy on my handicap. I have Asperger's syndrome, and it seriously hampers my social interaction abilities." He goes, "Hmm, I never heard of that."

He asks me, "Well, are you, in fact, gay, Mattie? You told Mark and me you weren't." I tell him. "Well, sexually, I'm not 'straight,' but I'm not sure if I qualify as totally 'gay,'" and I explain about my germ phobia where penises and assholes are concerned. I'm like, "I want to hug and kiss a cute guy, but other than that, the areas of the male body, the areas that are sort of important during sex, have tons of germs, so..."

I don't know what I expect him to say and when he doesn't say anything, I don't blame him. Then I go off the rails and tell him how I can't make friends, um, not ones I feel I could call to see what they're doing, or maybe to hang out with them. And it's not as though no one likes me... most guys are friendly towards me and blah, blah, blah. When he still doesn't comment, I continue to babble until I sound like a weirdo, then I do more blah, blah, blah telling him about my job.

Naturally, during all this confessing, I haven't been looking at Dennis directly, and since he hasn't said anything, it occurs to me, he may have fallen asleep like Mark. Hmm, I glance at him and see his eyes are wide open, and there's a look of compassion, or maybe its pity, coming from him. Now it's me who's not saying anything, so Dennis finally says, "You've got a lot to deal with, huh Mattie?" I shrug, and he adds, "If I were aware of all that, I would never have been so forward with you, grabbing your junk and jerking you off, or whatever. I'm sorry." I give my favorite response, a shrug, and he says, "I wish I knew what to tell you. I do know this, though, and it's that as long as you remain deeply in the closet and continue ignoring opportunities guys are hinting at, your chance of experiencing same-sex interaction, kissing or otherwise, is gonna continue to be unlikely."

Letting that sink in, I fight off the urge to shrug, and instead mumble, "I know," and he asks, "Am I the only person in the world to whom you've admitted being, um, gay?" I nod, "Uh-huh," and he shakes his head. Exhaling noisily, he goes, "So, let me see if I've got this right. You're deep in the closet; you struggle socially, you have a phobia about germs from a guy's privates, um, but you're hoping for a gay sexual life with a cute guy, age-appropriate and, like you, he'll be interested only in kissing and hugging. Oh, plus, he'll have to be the one who breaks through your social barriers and asks you to be his kissing and hugging partner. Is that about it?" Frowning, I'm like, "Well, when you say it like that, um, of course, it seems absurd. I guess I should, um..." He says, "In other words, what you're doing is you're waiting for a miracle. And, like almost all miracles, the one you're waiting for is unlikely to happen." I mumble, mostly to myself, "Is that it? Am I waiting for a miracle? Jeez, I guess I am."

Dennis hears me mumble that, and he grins, saying, "That's too long of a shot, right Mattie? Extremely unlikely to work out well for you. First, definitely loosen up on your germ thing. That's silly, and be more forthcoming, more open to invitations that may be gay-oriented. You're attractive and a very sweet guy, so you've got a lot going for you, but you need to help the process, ya know?" I'm nodding my head, "You're right, Dennis, except I'm dealing with this friggin' Aspergers thing." He says, "I'm sorry, but you've got to stop using that as an excuse."

Christ, everything he says is true, but that doesn't mean I can do what he suggests. How do I tell myself... DON'T have a germ phobia, or how, all of a sudden, can I ask some guy if he's ever done 'any messin' around' with another guy. I couldn't ask that the way Joe casually asked me. When he asked me, I, of course, changed the subject immediately.

I say, "You're right about everything, Dennis, and I appreciate you being so nice and that you're trying to help me, but changing ain't so easy." He says, "Well, there is very little you can do in that regard tonight anyhow. Telling me all your secret thoughts was a good beginning, though. Don't you think?" I go, "Yeah, it was, wasn't it?"

He chuckles and goes, "Sorry for laughing, but you seem much younger than nineteen. And, dammit, I feel as though I took advantage of you." I quickly say, "No, I appreciated you doing that. It's that first step you were inferring I need to take, right?" He says, "In your case, I'm really not sure. You're, um, very different from anyone I've met. But, whatever, I need to be leaving here shortly, and, as I said, you shouldn't drive in your condition."

Taking his arms from around me, he goes, "So, with that in mind, get up, and we'll go in the next room where you can lie down on my cot for a while to sleep off the pot 'load' as Mark is doing. Hell, it's only eleven o'clock, so the night is young. Sleep a while and then do, um, whatever. As for me, I gotta meet some people, and I'm gonna be late if I don't get moving." I mutter, "Yeah, okay," and he's like, "A couple of hours sleep, and you'll be okay to drive."

We stand up and, as he's guiding me to the next room, I'm wondering if any of what has happened tonight is going to change anything. And, I'm glad Mark was sleeping so didn't see Dennis doing, well, doing everything. I wouldn't want Mark to think, um, to think what? Maybe it'd be better if he saw everything because then he might be interested in the two of us doing something sexy.

The room Dennis and I go into is small and kinda rundown, like the rest of this place. I notice cracks in the plaster walls and peeling paint off the molding around the door. Dennis lights a candle that has a nice scent, and then I quietly ask, "Can everything we talked about stay between you and me, Dennis?" He pulls a sheet down the cot, and says, "Um, don't worry about it. Lie here for a while." I lie on the cot and ask, "Would you lie with me?" He hesitates and then mutters, "Sure," and he gets on the cot, pulls the sheet up, so it's covering both of us, him lying stiffly next to me, and that's the last thing I remember until someone is shaking my shoulder, saying, "Mattie, wake up. It's wicked late."

It takes a minute before I realize it's Mark shaking me and not Dennis. I ask, "Where's Dennis?" Mark is helping me sit up, and when I'm sitting up with my feet on the floor, he sits next to me, saying, "Dennis left. There's a note from him next to where I was sleeping, telling me to lock up when we leave. He's meeting some guys. Um, what time did I fall asleep?" I shrug, "I don't know." He laughs, mumbling, "Christ, I'm such a dork! Falling asleep from smoking pot and having a couple of beers. Jesus, I can't believe I did that! Hey, did Dennis make fun of me?"

Shaking my head, I say, "He didn't say anything about it," and now it's all coming back to me. My whining to Dennis about all my secrets. Omigod, I was such a cunt and wicked immature... Jesus! What'd he say? It was something about me seeming younger than nineteen. Mark goes, "Well, we didn't have much to drink, and the pot has worn off, so let's get the fuck out of this dump."

I mumble, "Yeah, okay," and we walk out of the room with me, asking, "How long has Dennis lived here?" Mark laughs, "You think he lives in this shit hole? Get serious!" I go, "Where's he live?" Mark says, "His gay ass lives on the University of Pennsylvania's campus. He's getting his Master's Degree in Astrophysics. Christ, his folks live out on the Main Line. They're rich! This shit-hole is Dennis's 'crib.' He bought it by selling drugs at school. Dennis's uncle is in the mob or something, and Dennis is still selling drugs for him." I'm like, "Seriously? How old is he?"

Mark pulls on me, mumbling, "Keep walking, okay? Um, Dennis is twenty-three, I think. I've known him for three years or so. We met at a party, and both of us being, um, slightly bisexual; we became friends." I'm like, "You're bisexual?" He shakes his head and says, "Get real. Jesus, you're nieve." We walk through the kitchen, ignoring the empty beer cans and the bottle of whiskey on the table. At the front door, I ask, "Are you mad at me?" Mark goes, "No, c'mon, let's get outta here."

Outside, sirens can be heard, so we hurry to my car. In the car, Mark says, "That sounded like fire engines. Not police." Shrugging, I start the car and pull away. When I turn at the first street, I see a group of older-looking men on the corner passing around a bottle of something. Mark mumbles, "Homeless winos."

At the next corner, I ask, "Which way, Mark?" He tells me, and then he asks, "Did Dennis get in your pants?" I go, "Nooo! Whaddaya mean?" He says, "Don't bullshit me, Mattie. He got in your pants, didn't he?" Hmm, would I be violating a trust to mention the handjob? Mark goes, "Christ, I half expected to see your pants down around your ankles when I went in that room and saw you on the cot." If I tell him maybe, he'd want to do something with me. But what? I shake my head and mumble, "He didn't do anything."

It isn't long before I recognize where we are, and asks, "Should we call it a night, Mark?" He goes, "Not on my account. Whaddaya wanna do?" I shrug and mumble, "Whadda you wanna do?" He goes, "Fuck it, just drop me off, I guess. Do you know where I live?" I go, "No, um..." and then I blurt out, "Dennis jerked me off." Mark laughs and then asks, "That's all?" I nod, "Yeah, he could see I'm, ah... oh hell, I don't know, I guess he felt bad that he was maybe taking advantage." Mark's incredulous, "From jerking you off?" A little too forcefully, I go, "I'm inexperienced, okay? I'm not some cool guy like you being bisexual, and all that shit."

We drive in silence for a bit, and then Mark mumbles, "I'm not bisexual, Mattie, I'm gay. And, that bit of private information is between you and me only." Naturally, I'm not sure what I should say now. I gotta say something, though, so I finally say, "I'm sort of gay too, alright?" He laughs, "Ya can't be sort of gay any more than a woman can be sort of pregnant." Oh man, the pot has worn off so I don't feel I can tell Mark my secrets; the ones I told Dennis. And, now I don't know how to continue this conversation.

We're in Cliffton now, so I ask, "Ah, how do I get to your house?" He tells me, and we're there in two minutes. Idling in front of his house, I look over at Mark, who asks, "Anyhow, what did you mean by saying you're sort of gay?" I go, "Oh, it's stupid. I've never done anything with a guy. Well, until tonight when I was 'stoned' and let Dennis jerk me off." He looks at me and says, "How'd you like it?" I'm not looking at him, so he says, "Can you look at me, Mattie?" When I glance over at him, he asks again, "How'd you like getting jerked off?" I feel like crying because I don't know what to do or say. I hate myself!

Mark sees something in my eyes and unhooks his seatbelt so he can lean over and get his arms around me, quietly saying, "You don't have to tell me," and he hugs me awkwardly. It's awkward because I'm still hooked up to my seat belt. His hug brings the sides of our faces together, and it feels better than I expected. I always thought it would be wonderful to feel a cute guy's face against mine. Dennis doesn't count because, as I just told Mark, I was 'stoned', plus Dennis is not my idea of a cute guy. Mark, on the other hand, is even better than my fantasies. I put my arms around him, and one of his hands touches my head, his fingers in my hair. We hug for maybe ten seconds. Then I say, "I liked it fine, but Dennis isn't, um, anything like the guy I've dreamed about."

Taking his arms away, Mark mumbles, "Jesus, that hugging was random, huh? I don't know, but, um, Goddamn, you bring out something in me that I've never experienced before." Thinking he means something negative, I mumble, "Sorry," and he chuckles, adding, "No, nothing bad. It must be my nurturing instinct or some such shit like that. No problem, dude." His scent is still in my head, and the side of my face feels warm. He appears uncomfortable after saying that, so he puts the ball back in my court, so to speak, "You say Dennis isn't your, um, dream guy, huh? Can you give me an example of someone who is?" I nod, "Yes, someone like you." That is the bravest thing I've ever said to anybody.

It caught Mark off guard and his eyes open wide, and then he frowns, asking, "Wha...? Really? Um, Jesus, Mattie, why in the hell did you keep that a secret from me?" I mutter, "I don't know," and he goes, "You don't know, huh? Well, did you know I tried to pique your interest in me when we were sophomores two years ago? I had you 'pegged' for potentially a sex-buddy. Christ, I thought I was explicit enough about it, but when there was no response from you, I was like... guess I'm wrong about Burke. That was over two years ago, and we could have been doing... oh man, what a waste."

Gulping, I mutter, "Oh, was that what you meant back then? I thought you were making fun of me. I didn't pick up on, um..." and he says, "Making fun of you? Why in the hell would you have thought that? Christ, I came right out and exposed myself, gave myself away as gay, and you... well, nevermind that now. Water under the bridge." I shrug again, mumbling, "Jeez." Frankly, I don't remember it.

Markmumbles, "Damn, it's just a shame, bro. We both missed out on some sexy fun." I mutter, "It's all my fault," and he goes, "No, maybe I should have been even more direct, but we were young I guess." He means I was immature and/or clueless, which I was. Shaking his head he wistfully, says, " And then we weren't in any of the same classes junior and senior year, which is an oddity right there, so I forgot about you." Shrugging at that, 'cause I don't know what I can say about it. Mark makes a cute 'face,' imitates one of my shrugs, and says, "Ancient history though, right? So, what do you feel like doing now?"

Actually, tonight was too much, um, too much 'everything' for me, and I feel sick. Christ, why now, though? I mumble, "I don't know, um, maybe we could hang out sometime." He laughs out loud at that, and then says, "Yeah, we can hang out... that's a great idea." I think I'm going to throw up and fear I might puke on him. I've gotta telling him, "I'm sorry, but I think I'm going to be sick," and then I quickly undo my seatbelt, open my door, and try throwing up, but the only thing that comes out is spit or bile or something.

Feeling geeky, I again mutter, "Sorry," and then close the door. Making a 'face,' he asks, "You okay?" I nod, and he says, "You're sure?" I nod again, and he says, "Okay, here's what we're going to do. Turn off the car." I do that, and he says, "You're coming inside with me." I'm like, "Go inside your house at this time of night?" He says, "Yeah, nobody's home. My parents are in Atlantic City until tomorrow night. C'mon, you're coming inside with me." I look dubious and he says, "This is a momentous occasion, Mattie... you're breaking out of your shell."

What should I do? I'm looking at him, wanting to do what he says, but my parents will shit if I get home any later. Then I remember that Dennis said I should be embracing, taking advantage of this kind of situation. Anyway, what's the difference between getting home at three o'clock in the morning or four o'clock in the morning? Plus, I'm a nineteen years old working man, not a high school student! I nod my head, muttering, "Okay, sure, Mark," and we get out.

His house is big compared to mine. It's a two-floor house built maybe ten years ago. Metaphorically, Mark lives on 'the other side of the 'tracks,' his side of the tracks the 'good' side. It's not the Main Line by a long shot, but it's a nice neighborhood. Mark unlocks the front door, and we go inside. After he turns on a light, I see we're in a small foyer, and there's a living room, and I see part of the kitchen further down on the right. Mark says, "Let's get something to drink," and we walk into the kitchen. He turns on more lights and asks me, "Beer or liquor?"

I don't know why I'm not more tired at two-thirty in the morning. Well, I did sleep for over two hours, haha. There's that, and Mark slept for three hours so... I'm like, "I'll have whatever you're gonna have," and he takes two cans of Coors beer from the refrigerator and hands me one. He pops the tab on his can of beer and asks, "How much of Dennis's whiskey did you drink after I conked out?" Shrugging, I go, "Hardly any. Actually, I wish I could get 'high' again 'cause everything seemed easier when I was high."

After drinking a couple of swallows of beer, Mark says, "Pretend you're high and tell me what gay thing you'd most like to do. That's what we'll do, um, to start." Popping the tab on my can of beer, I laugh and mumble, "Hell, I don't know," and Mark goes, "Yes, you do." Gulping some beer, I shrug, "Seriously?" He nods, and I laugh 'cause I'm embarrassed, but I murmur, "Kiss you." He comes right over and kisses me on the lips. I blush and mutter, "Oh..." He does it again and, standing back, doing his sexy grin, Mark asks, "Well?"

Gulping down some beer, I go, "That was awesome, Mark." He goes, "See, it's easy. It's also no big deal, right?" I do another nervous chuckle and mumble, "It's a big deal to me." Mark says, "Yeah, I lied. It's a big deal for me too. I'm faking it 'cause I actually haven't had much experience kissing. Dennis gives me a quick kiss 'hello,' but that's most of the kissing I do with guys. As far as sex... we do oral sex about twice a year. Haha, yeah, that's it as far as Dennis and I doing gay shit together. I had a sex-buddy freshmen year, and we experimented with, um, pretty much everything we saw being done watching Helix videos. Ever since then, I have been sexually active, above average for guys our age. So, now you know all about me."

Mark waits for me to say something and when I don't, he goes, "Yeah, that's my sex life, so what's yours been like? Is your friend, Dean, your sex buddy?" I go, "What? Noo! Dean's not gay at all! My sex life has been nonexistent. Nothing at all. Getting jerked off by Dennis is the totality of my gay experience." Mark goes, "Seriously, the totality? That's it?" I shrug muttering, "Yep."

He's giving me a strange 'look' and then says, "Actually... I believe you. Fuck that though; I'm glad you're breaking out with me." I mutter, "Me too," and he says, "So, we've kissed. What do you wanna try next?" I shrug, "You decide."

Rubbing my nose, I look around, waiting for Mark to decide what comes next. After a few seconds, he says, "Fuck, I wish I didn't give up smoking cigarettes. This would be a good time to smoke one." We sip on our beers for a minute, and then Mark takes my hand, saying, "Alright, come with me. We're gonna get naked and get in my bed."

Omigod, I want to do that, except I'm scared shitless what will happen. No matter, I follow him, glad he's holding my hand and pulling me along. Upstairs we go into the second door and, wow, what a cool bedroom he has. Mark says, "Let's take our clothes off right this second before you change your mind." I'm not shy about being naked because, even though I'm borderline skinny, I have an okay body, and my dick is average size.

Taking off my glasses, I put then on the bedside table next to a small clock. Mark was faster getting undressed, so while I'm taking my pants down, he's already naked and under the covers. He mumbles, "This reminds me of the first time I did this as a kid with Ricky Blake. I wonder what happened to Ricky?" I'm like, "When was that?" He goes, "He was my sex-bud freshman year. He had some acne now that I think back." Damn, I should have taken my sneakers off first. As I'm doing that, my shorts around my ankles, Mark snickers and says, "Fuck, when I told you we might make up for the missed senior trip 'grab-assing' in bed, I never in a million years actually thought we would."

The quick look I had of Mark's naked body as he was hopping in bed gave me the impression we're like twins in the body and penis 'departments'. I only took a quick look 'cause I didn't want him to think I'm a pervert. He's almost as slim as me, and while neither of us has a bodybuilder's body, we're okay. I like that he's got a hairless torso like mine and his dick is like mine too, so we're even, body-wise. He's cuter than me and has cooler hair, but not by a long shot in either case.

As I'm thinking all that, I realize I'm standing here naked now. Mark says, "Are you modeling your body for me? If so, feel free to model as long as you want." Blushing, I mutter, "No, I'm not used to, um..." and I tentatively pull back the covers and get into his bed. Christ, I can't even breathe.

It's a double bed, so there's room for both of us to lie on our backs. After a few seconds, I turn my head to look at Mark and see he's been looking at me. Hmm, I'm thinking my face is probably too serious so I try looking 'cool' as if this is no big deal. Mark laughs and asks, "Did you just have a cramp? The look on your face, ya know?" I say, "That was me looking cool," and I managed to chuckle, and then ask, "What should we do now?" Mark says, "Because it's your fantasy, we'll start by doing a full-blown make out. Those first two kisses don't count. We need to do it with you kissing back and our hot naked bodies rubbing against one another. I go, "Sure!" and he says, "As a 'heads-up' I should tell you that I don't do much, hardly any actually, making out with guys. Yeah, I rarely make out with a guy, but let's see what happens. I'm kinda interested myself."

Nodding my head, not sure how much of what he's saying, I believe, Mark slides his hand under the side of my neck, so I scooch over a little and put my arm over him. The feel of his naked skin is thrilling and I do a quiet gasp. Mark murmurs, "You're doing okay, relax," and then his full-frontal nudity touches mine, making me gasp again, although Mark's mouth is on mine, and that muffles my second gasp.

There's awkwardness in our kissing, and I'm sure it's because he knows how to do gay-kissing, and I don't. I like it anyway. I like our open mouths when our teeth to scrap, and I like when our tongues slide together, and Mark's lips are on mine, and I also like that our faces are touching, our noses rubbing... oh, man! Mark's naked body, tight against my body, is incredibly arousing! Our hands constantly rub over each other; then our hands are forcing their way between our bodies rubbing each other's gentiles... it's unimaginably wonderful!

Both our penises become steel boners, and right now, we're so tightly together our boners are touching next to one another, pressed tightly between our bellies. Nothing has ever felt this good... ever. This is the best time I've ever had in my life, and it's much better than any fantasy I've ever had, and I mean fantasies about anyone doing anything. It helps enormously that Mark's cute and his body fits with mine so good and, well, I can't imagine this being any better than it is.

My eyes have been closed from the start, and I'm not sure when I started my quiet moans of arousal but, Omigod, my sexual arousal is at an all-time high, easily by-passing any hot fantasy I've ever had while jerking off. My moans turn into groans and, as I worry I'm having a heart attack my body explodes with a huge sexual orgasm, big giant climax with semen streaming out hot and creamy from my iron cock although it doesn't get very far. It squeezes out between our stomachs warm and gooey. It felt like a long stream of cum shooting out forever with delicious pleasure rolling over me. Ooh, God, that felt good!

Mark grunts and grips my wrist to bring my hand to his boner, my wrist sliding in the cum on his belly. He holds my hand there until I grip his boner and stroke it fast... stroke, stroke, stroke. His body gets stiff, he groans, humps his hips toward me, as the cum flows fast from his boner, then again. It gets all over both of us, just as mine did.

We both take a deep breath and then sigh lying on our backs again. Wow, that was hands down the best climax I've ever had. An out-of-this-world fantastic orgasm that sent unbelievable levels of pleasure spreading all over me. Jesus, I blew my load from simply making out! Mark needed a 'hand-job' to get his rocks off, but his cock got 'hard' from us making out, so that's cool.

As I'm taking another sighing deep breath, Mark snickers and says, "Holy fuck, that was fun! It was quick, too, huh? Did you think you'd climax from just making out?" Shivering with pleasure from that fantastic climax, I mumble, "Hell, I've never done this before, but, quick or not, it is the highlight of my life so far. It'll probably always be the highlight of my life." Mark does his infectious grin, mumbling, "No, I'll bet it's not the highlight for long. Not if I have anything to do about it." Omigod, I think I'm in love with Mark Baker, who I barely know.

He mumbles in an off-hand manner, "If I had a rubber, I'd fuck you right now." What? Omigod, the thought of Mark fucking my ass, um, no... Trying to sound casual about it, I say, "Actually, I'm glad you don't have a condom because I'm not at all sure I'm ready for that." He sort of grins, maybe he assumes I'm kidding. With a chuckle, he goes, "Why not?" I'm like, "Hey, I've never done it, alright? Jeez, I told you I haven't, um, been with a guy before and, well, it scares me a little." He's like, "A little?" and I go, "Also, doesn't it, um, well, bother you that there could be shit where you want to stick your dick?" He chuckles, and says, "Haha, I thought you were serious for a second there, Matt. It goes without saying that, no, of course, that doesn't bother me! I'd have a condom on, but even without a rubber, it wouldn't bother me."

He's was so blase about that, I say, "Well, I was serious, and I'm sorry, but anal sex scares me, that's all. The unknown, ya know?" As if it's a foregone conclusion that we'll be doing 'it', he says, "No need to be scared. It'll be your first time, so I'll be gentle when I fuck you. Actually, though, come to think of it, there are guys who simply can't take a boner in their ass no matter what. I hope you're not one of them." I nod, "I'll give it a try with you, but not now, right?" He goes, "No, not now 'cause I don't have a condom, as I said." I mutter, "I heard ya." Looking at me, he says, "It'll be fine and we're gonna be secret fuck buddies... we'll want to fuck each other frequently." Gulp...

Letting that sink in, I say, "How'd your early experimenting doing 'it' work out? You said you experimented freshman year with a sex-buddy?" He says, "Yeah, with Ricky. Some of it was very good, and some not so good, meaning Ricky couldn't handle my cock fucking him. We never were successful with that, and we finally had a, um, argument about it." I ask, "You had a fight?" Mark shrugs, "Verbal fight because I enjoyed him fucking me, but eventually, it was too one-way, ya know? With other guys, though, I've never run into that problem." I mutter, "Gee, you were fourteen or fifteen when you and Ricky were experimenting. That's unusual, isn't it?" ." He says, "I only know my experience, but it's a safe bet that, yeah, Ricky and I were into sex earlier than most."

Oh, man, this conversation is surreal when compared to any other conversation I've ever had. Getting practical, I go, "Um, do you think we could clean the cum off our stomachs?" He goes, "Sure, if you want to." When he throws the covers off us, I follow him to a hall bathroom as he's telling me, "This is my bathroom. The 'rents' have their own." Wow, two full bathrooms, convenient!

After wetting a washcloth with warm water, Mark uses it to wipe my stomach and around my privates as he's saying, "I'm surprised you're comfortable being naked." I go, "Why's that?" and he shrugs, "I don't know, um, because you're so uncomfortable about almost everything else." I want to tell him about my Asperger's, but Dennis said I was using it as an excuse.

Taking the washcloth from Mark, I rinse it out, saying, "Yeah, I lack confidence in most situations, but, for whatever reason, I'm fine about being naked with you. We have very similar bodies, don't ya think?" He says, "Yours is better, but we're sort of the same, not that it matters all that much, ya know?" I mutter, "No, it's not important," but I actually do think it's kinda important. And, haha, his pubic hairs are almost orange. I never saw that before, but then I wasn't one of those guys sneaking looks at guys' privates in the shower after gym class. Maybe orange pubes are normal for redheaded guys. I like that his cock is unintimidating size-wise... maybe it will be okay having it stuck up my ass."

Then, as I'm wiping around his cock and balls, Mark says, "Christ, I'm so glad this is working out okay for us." I go, "I'm wicked surprised about that, um, no reflection on you. It's just that this is something I wanted to do so badly, and things don't always work out well for me. You've been so understanding and, well, you're extraordinarily nice, Mark, so you've made everything work. Not to get maudlin, but you're special." He makes a face and says, "Get outta here. Don't break my balls." I go, "No, really. I overcame my lack of confidence tonight because I had confidence in you. Christ, I don't know, but if I say much more, you'll think I'm a dork." He probably already does.

We finish cleaning up, and he says, "Nah, you're not a dork! You said nice things about me, and I'm flattered, so thanks." I do a nervous snicker and say, "If I were to tell you how much I 'really' like you, you'd be flattered even more." He goes, "Omigod, Mattie, don't get carried away. Christ, we've hardly done anything. It's been fun, but we're the casualist of sex-buddies so far. We haven't done anything really. And, I mean, we don't see each other that often so when we do, we'll try to make the most of it, okay?" I mumble, "Yeah, for sure."

Mark dries us with a hand towel that he then drops on the floor and, putting his lips to my ears, he murmurs, "Would you blow me now?" Instead of saying 'no', I say, "I was wondering if you could do that first. Ya know, so I could learn how to do it from you." Stepping back, he points at me as he laughs and then says, "What a fucking con-artist you are. Nice move, Matt! But, hell, there isn't a helluva lot I can teach you about sucking a guy's dick. Millions of people do it all the time. Jesus, you're something, Mattie. C'mon, let's get back in bed."

When we're back in bed under the covers, I surprise myself by grinding against his awesome naked body. We make out again for a while, which soon gets my dick growing hard. Taking a break from that, I blurt out, "You know what? I think I love you." He laughs out loud and then goes, "What a bull-shit artist you are, Mattie! I mean, when you choose to say anything, you say the damnest things. Okay, you got me. I'll blow you first. Is that what your BS 'I love you' comment was all about?" I'm like, "No, well, ya know..."

Thank God he bailed me out of my embarrassing 'love you' comment. To cover that blunder, I go, "Obviously, I can't put anything over on you." He snorts and says, "Fuck, I can't say no to you anyway, not after the hokey 'I love you' BS." Before I can even fully grasp what he's implying, Mark slips down under the covers and, oh, Gawd, he picks up my dick and licks it up and down, up and down and it's getting harder fast. And, I just had an orgasm twenty minutes ago! I moan, "Ahh, ahh, mmm."

Sensations fly off my hardening cock as my hands reach under the covers to touch Mark's head, my fingers in his soft, clean red hair. The head of my boner goes in his warm, wet mouth while he's also gently stroking my hard five-inch penis. Jeez, my dick feels as if it's stretched so much the skin is going to rip, but it's an incredibly sexual sensation at the same time. "Ooooh, mmmm, Mark, oooh," I groan and moan as my belly tightens, and I sense another orgasm coming on.

My fingers pull Mark's hair, and then he bobs his head back and forth, his lips on my boner as my boner's head is sliding on his warm, soft wet tongue. "Ahh, ooh, mmm!" Two or three minutes of unbelievable sensations, pure sexual pleasure, and then my back arches off the bed, and I let out a loud gasping breath as my toes curl tightly, and I have what feels like an explosive climax, although only a small load of cum shoots into Mark's mouth. A short burst of cum, but monumental too. My hips humped a little on their own as delicious chills were steaking up my back, my legs moving spastically on the bed for a second. Holy shit, that was an out of this world experience! What a fucking night!

When Mark's head pops out from under the covers, my hand goes to my saliva saturated cock to squeeze out the last few drops of cum. I know I'm making a 'face,', but I can't help it... I just had the most fabulous orgasm of my life! I never imagined anything could feel that good. Mark, in a matter-of-fact manner, mumbles, "Your cum had a slight beer taste to it." I'm exhaling in little puffs coming down from my awesome sexual high. To Mark's comment, I can only managing to grunt, "Oh, um, beer, huh?" I'm thinking, Omigod, he swallowed my cum? The germs!

Obviously, I'm not mentioning germs to Mark. I've made an ass of myself already by overreacting to the anal sex earlier. I try calming down and acting cool about it, saying, "Oh, man, that was nice." Mark goes, "Yeah, a good blow job rocks. I've been told that gay guys do the best blow jobs, I mean, better than girls. And I'm not including myself. I'm still developing a technique of my own, but Dennis is super at giving head. I try copying what he does, but I'm improvising a little too." I nod my head, although I don't know what he means, then say, "You seemed pretty fucking good at it, Mark. I can't imagine anyone doing it better, but, um, you swallowed my cum. Is that a good idea, do ya think?"

He's wiping his mouth with his hand, but missing what I believe is a drop of my cum near the bottom of his chin. Should I say something or maybe wipe it off for him? Hmm, probably the better idea is, I'll just ignore it.

Mark's chuckling and making a 'face' at me, so I ask, "What?" He looks at me, "Oh, I didn't know you were serious about me swallowing cum. I thought you were kidding with that, ya know, making a joke or something. Yeah, it's perfectly safe swallowing semen. I mean, assuming you don't have any sexually transmitted diseases. You don't do you?" I look serious, saying, "No, of course not." He chuckles again, mumbling, "Well, haha, there you go again. Mattie, I was kidding you with that question. But truthfully, semen is full of proteins, and it even has a few calories. I've read where it's actually good for you." I'm like, "Oh, sure."

Going up on his side and looking down on me, Mark asks, "So, do you think you can do that for me?" I go, "Probably for you, but I don't think I could do that for anyone else." He grins, "Good, I don't care about 'anyone else'. Do you wanna try to do it now?" I shake my head, mumbling, "Later, okay? All of a sudden, I'm wicked tired." He falls forward onto me, saying, "You have a knack for getting your way, doncha? Okay, later."

We lie back on the bed again, and he says, "This is our secret, Matt! Seriously, I've been screwing around sexually with guys for years but, even so, only a relatively few numbers of people know I'm gay and, for now, I wanna keep it like that." I nod, "Our secret, definitely, Mark! You can trust me. So, are we boyfriends now?"He says, "Um, boyfriends? Heh heh, very funny! Um, let's say we're trying to work our way up to being sex buddies. Boyfriends, that's a long way off, bro." Hmm, not the response I was hoping to hear. He mumbles, "I'm getting used to your sense of humor, though... it's pretty dry. Anyhow, let's take a second nap tonight." I don't know why he assumed I was trying to be funny... what's that all about?

Jeez, the way I say stuff must be way off base somehow. Anyway, fuck the nap, I should leave. No, I can't do that to Mark, he might misinterpret it somehow. He reaches across my body to turn off the bedroom light and then lies on his stomach with an arm across my chest, and murmurs, "Thanks for hanging in there with me, Matt." I say, "Sure," and we don't say anything else. Not that I should need to, but how am I going to explain this ridiculously late night to my parents?

That becomes a moot point for now because I fall asleep again, and when I wake up, I see from the small bedside clock it's five-fifteen in the morning. Jesus H, Christ!

Mark's now sleeping on his side facing away from me, and, when I slip out of bed, he doesn't move. Good! I'm looking at him and, oh man, the temptation to get back in bed is a strong one. I resist it, though, and pick up my glasses. When I put them on, I grab underpants off a pile of clothes we dropped when undressing. Oops, these are Mark's underpants. After considering wearing his, I snicker and pick mine up. There's just enough dawn-light through the window for me to see what I'm doing.

Quickly dressed, I go downstairs and then think... I should leave a note. No, a text is better, but I don't know his cell phone number. Balls! Quietly back upstairs, I pick up his shorts, take out his cell phone, click it on and find the number. Saying the number over in my head a few times, I put the phone back in his shorts and go downstairs, where I punch his number on my phone. Okay, good! When I walk outside, I hear the front door locking behind me automatically, so that's good too.

Driving home, I remember mom telling me yesterday morning that she and dad have something to do today. Yeah, well, duh. Every Sunday they visit with family. They used to insist I go with them, but that stopped last year. It's good they'll be leaving before noon because they won't know how late I'll be getting up once I go to sleep.

At the house, I'm as quiet as a mouse unlocking the front door and going down the hall to my bedroom. The house is silent, not a peep out of my parents, so I pulled this off. Undressing and getting in bed, I then text Mark that I had a great time. He'll read my text when he wakes up. Hmm, I considered telling him again that last night was the best night of my life, but I have just enough good sense not to do that.

Anyway, I'm pretty sure it wasn't the best night of his life. Oh man, though, I wish he said we were boyfriends. He was emphatic that we're not, but I'm happy to at least be his sex buddy, although he didn't even agree I qualify for that yet. He said we're working on that, or something... I don't remember.

Friday night with Joe was one of my better Friday nights, and then tonight easily topped that! I can hardly believe my good fortune of late. Hmm, I'm still not sure I believe semen is something good to swallow though, or that's it's maybe even healthy, but, yes, I will blow Mark. To hell with the germs!

To be continued in chapter 4... Do Miracles Ever Happen? donnymumford@outlook.com

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