Straight Guy

I

Beats of metal blared through the flashing surroundings, and the place reeked of beer.

"You can come to my apartment," Claire said seductively.

Jason could scarcely believe his ears. How could his luck have turned—especially after weeks of attending the same college sophomore class and somehow, being unable to hook up with this beauty? Jason smiled—and felt his cheek dimples. "Are you serious?"

"Yeah," Claire assured. She turned her oval face toward the birch bar counter, took her goblet, and sipped from the dewy glass.

Jason eyed Claire and ahed like a camel begging for cold water under the noon sun of the Sahara.

Claire set down her glass of clear wine, then slowly swiveled toward Jason. "I am all yours." She grinned girlishly. "There is, however, one catch."

"Anything," Jason said breathlessly.

Jason's short hair was brown as muddy waters, and it fountained back from the top of his somewhat diamond face.

Claire ran her ballerina fingers through Jason's fine hair. "I'll tell you in my car," she said.

"You're driving?"

"You got a problem with that?" Claire said.

"Nuh-uh," Jason muttered.

Claire's peach-hued hand took Jason's fallow hand, and she jested him away from the birch counter.

Jason nearly spilled his beer mug.

* * * *

Like small suns, the lights of the storefront shone upon the chrome of the coupé. Never had the bright-yellow car with the black leather top glistened as intensely as that night—not even on that sunny afternoon when Jason followed Claire from sociology class to the student-union parking lot. The closer Claire and Jason got to the grand touring car, the faster Jason's heart beat. The butterfly-wing passenger doors pivoted up with a low hum, and Claire crossed to the driver's side.

Jason inhaled a gulpful of autumn air. He exhaled tensely and crouched onto his black seat of leather.

The doors hemmed down, and an ear-ringing silence permeated the inside of the coupé. The interior, in turn, discharged a scent of mint leather, sprayed carpets, and fresh plastic.

The olfactory flavors brought Jason the image of a triangular tent of yellow. That tent of crumbled plastic his father had given him for his 13th birthday. Now, Jason's pulse raced at the promise of a different present.

Jason stared deeply into Claire's almond orbs.

Claire's hazel irises sparkled like diamonds in a cave.

Maybe it was Claire's childlike innocence that drove Jason bonkers. Or perhaps, it was that Claire didn't look slutty like so many girls on campus. Never had Jason seen a chick whose hair streamed down so gracefully. As if this weren't enough, Claire's auburn hair glistered like the moonlit canvass of a covered wagon.

Let's fuck right here!Jason said with his irises of honey brown.

Claire led Jason's hand toward the twin hills that awaited under the fuzziness of her amaranth sweater.

Wow!Jason thought, goggle-eyed. The college sophomore was sure that he had the perfect babe beside him—a girl virginally celestial and yet, earthly human. Parched with lust, Jason descended onto Claire's mouth.

Claire sucked back.

Jason shut his evenly spaced eyes, and he focused on the bittersweet taste of Claire's lips.

Claire's hair reached to her curved shoulders, and it was soft as lace. Her hair smelled of strawberry shampoo, and the scent combined with the cornstalk aroma of her face.

The particles tingled Jason's nostrils like a mouthful of fizzing soda, flitted down his throat, and pricked the skin of his stomach.

Jason sucked harder Claire's thin lips, groped her squishy casabas, and bent his knees toward her bared navel.

Claire raised Jason's Henley shirt—the curtain of his abdominal stage—to the audience of her fingers. Like the feathers of a parrot, Jason's emerald shirt tickled the skin around his midriff.

Jason tensed his closed eyelids and moaned with the urgency of a wanting-to-pee adolescent.

Like bars of soap, Claire's hands caressed Jason's lean flanks.

Jason hummed long and hard into Claire's mouth. His hormones were so famished that had a microscope magnified them, they would have been squirrels running around in search of nuts to crack.

Claire pulled back!

Jason opened his oval eyes.

"There's someone I want you to meet," Claire said. She glanced toward the rumble seat that somehow hid behind them.

Jason's dark eyes flashed back. "Whoa!" he said, ripping his palms away from Claire's amaranth sweater.

"This is Wesley," Claire said.

Jason leered at him. "You're that dude from sociology class."

Wesley nodded eagerly.

The blond had a "boy's haircut." His saucer eyes glittered like stars enlarged in a glossy photograph, and they radiated an angelic beauty.

Jason frowned suspiciously. "Nice to meet you."

Wesley spoke with the purity of an altar boy. "I'm glad you finally met—outside the classroom."

"Jason and I got acquainted at that bar," Claire said. With her button nose, she pointed toward the green canopy on their right.

Like after a breaking wave, silence washed over every cubic space of Jason's surroundings.

The stillness drove Jason mad with irritation, and he felt the impulse to roll down his window, Claire's window,any window. "Is he gonna join us?"

The quiet shattered as if a brick had crashed onto the bright-yellow hood.

"What would make you say that?" Claire said in her thready voice.

"Come on," Jason said, shifting his evenly spaced eyes toward Claire's close-set eyes. "He's waiting for us here."

"Calm down," Claire said. Gently, she took Jason's hand and placed it on the border between her flower-printed miniskirt and her mildly tanned leg. "Youwillget to fuck me. But I love Wesley. Whatever he yearns for, I take into consideration."

Jason slid his model's hand away from the silk of Claire's leg. "What are you saying?"

"Before you fuck me, you must let him suck you," Claire said.

Jason puffed a laugh. "You gotta be kidding me."

Claire shook her oval face seriously.

"What is the world coming to?" Jason protested.

"Wesley'sthe one who'll be on his knees," Claire said.

"And why would you want to do that?" Jason said, turning abruptly to Wesley.

"Because dudes are awesome," Wesley squibbed.

The potpourri of outside lights kept rendering Wesley's eyes with a silver glow in the dark. Wesley's boxer shorts were a deep-blue nylon. Every time he twitched a leg, the pinholes of his boxers shimmered like sugar crystals. The dimness where Wesley sat certainly made him more eye-catching.

Jason scowled in befuddlement and glinted over Wesley's legs.

They were firm as mangos and had a tint of pink under the city lights.

"You queers are messed up," Jason said.

"How so?" Wesley answered.

"Look at you!" Jason yipped. "Your legs, for instance, muscular like a star athlete's. How thehellare straight guys supposed to tell you apart?"

"Ain't that grand?" Claire said excitedly.

"For you, maybe!" Jason replied. "But what about people like me? We're the ones mingling with his kind without knowing it—heck, even becoming buddies with them!"

"Wesley's willing to suck you dry," Claire said in a burst of emotion. "Then, you get to fuck me. What more do you want?"

Why, Jason wondered, did things too-good-to-be-true always have to

backfire? "I thought I had problems in my hometown," Jason groaned. "But you people from Vancouver are something else." He grit his teeth with the tension of pliers turning the screw of a bicycle.

Silence advanced through the inside of the coupé like the spaces between the final notes of a loud-and-abusive funk song.

"Fine!" Jason gruffed. He settled back on his black seat of leather. "Let's drive to your apartment."

"Fine!" Claire said. She placed her palm on the glass platform of the ignition scanner.

Like jack-in-the-box, Jason jolted out of his black chair, and he pointed wrathfully at Wesley. "But don't try to pull any funny stuff!"

II

Wesley and Jason stood side by side, and it became obvious that Wesley was about three inches taller than 5' 8" Jason. In unison, however, the young men inhaled the somewhat flowery aroma of the living room, and they eyed Claire.

A wily grin tiptoed across Claire's face. She pulled her fuzzy sweater of amaranth off. Starting at the bottom, she teasingly unbuttoned the white linen of her crop top.

Jason ahed with a scorched throat. Wesley mmmed as if Claire were a lump of chocolate fresh out of the oven.

Claire bared the pearl-white of her bra and the small butterflies on its satin.

Jason nodded as though to a catchy tune. "Take 'em off."

Claire rotated aside like an ice skater in slow motion. Around the back of her crisp-white bra, she twisted her fingers of butter. Claire turned back front and said, "Voila!"

"Oh, baby!" Jason said.

Claire's skin was eastern Colorado seen from high above during a light rain. Her tits, in turn, were plump as a cantaloupe.

A sigh rushed from Jason's lungs, and he reached out to knead the knockers.

Claire restrained Jason's hand. "First, you have to lend Wesley your cock."

Pensively, Jason dropped his oval eyes.

The Berber rug was beige. It was so new that hairlets of gold stuck to the hems of Jason's khaki corduroys.

Jason lifted his eyes from the ecru rug. "Am I supposed to do it here?"

"Don't you like variety?" Claire lipped.

"Yeah, but—"

"Then, get on with it."

Front-left of Jason, Claire sat on a bean sofa that flaunted a blue sky with clouds of whipped cream.

"How long must I—"

"Until you cum," Claire said.

"How am I supposed to fuck you after?" Jason erupted.

"You're a virile, straight guy, aren't you?" she said.

"Yeah, but—"

"Then, what's your problem?"

"Just tell me one thing," Jason said. "What do you get out of this?"

"Pleasure from watching Wesley in ecstasy," Claire said. She got comfortable by the partly cloudy skies of a throw pillow.

In confusion, Jason strained his amber eyebrows.

Agog like a kid in a candy store, Wesley peeled his yellow soccer shirt off. He began to remove Jason's emerald Henley.

"Whoa!" Jason said, spinning right. "She never mentioned anything about us touching."

"So?" Wesley said. He resumed pulling up the burly cotton of Jason's emerald shirt.

Jason seized Wesley's forearms. "Cool it!"

Wesley inched back coyly.

Jason huffed as if catching his breath after falling down an elevator shaft. With the petulance of an athlete, Jason pulled his emerald Henley off.

Wesley undid Jason's long pants, dropped to his knees, and hoicked down Jason's khaki corduroys and white briefs of cotton.

Jason shook from head to toe.

Wesley devoured the droop of Jason's knockwurst.

Jason neighed.

Like a pulley, Wesley's lips slid back and forth on Jason's prick. It was peach folds over chestnut-brown skin. Wesley snatched Jason's hands and threw them atop his "boy's haircut."

Jason tightened his swarthy fingers on the sheaths of golden-yellow.

In Wesley's mouth, Jason's wiener felt like the pulp of a plum inside a toaster oven set towarm.

In pain, Jason squinted his eyes into the shape of a hawk's eyes. "Fuck!"

Wesley pulled his fuck hole away and lapped his tongue around Jason's foreskin.

Jason yanked Wesley's hair rapids toward him.

Again, Wesley scarfed the brown of Jason's dick. Wesley tightened his peach lips around the cock like a pair of hands trying to pin shut the innards of a turkey overflowing with stuffing.

"Jesus Christ!" Jason said. He began to thrust into Wesley's heart-shaped face.

"Mmm-hmm," Wesley intoned.

Jason's eyelashes grew heavy.

Suddenly, Wesley pulled back!

Jason's eyelids flew open. "What the hell?"

Like a foaming puppy, Wesley salivated at Jason's testicles. The blond swooped toward the chestnuts and sucked them.

"Fucking A!" Jason bellowed, throwing his semi-round nose toward the dark kitchen behind him.

Wesley soughed in a high hum.

In Wesley's mouth, Jason's testes vibrated like bells of stainless steel.

Jason groaned like a pig in heat.

Wesley fluttered his stuffed tongue across the oilskin of Jason's sack.

"Fucking wanker!" Jason snarled.

Bangs of golden-yellow and aubergine streamed with gaps over Wesley's forehead.

Jason clawed Wesley's lowlights.

Once more, Wesley pulled away from Jason's cannon.

Jason rolled his head down.What the fuck are you doing?

That which no girl has done to you,Wesley fluted with his sapphire irises of gelatin.

A string of construction glue fell onto Wesley's upper lip.

"Lick it, sissy," Jason said. "Because more of that will be oozing into your mouth."

Wesley swiped his tongue over the droplet.

"Now, suck my dick," Jason growled.

Wesley took the lollypop back into his face cave.

"That's it," Jason said. He closed his oval eyes.

Wesley sucked with the sprightliness of a Dachshund.

How, Jason wondered, could a guy give better head than a girl? Heck, Jason felt hisentiregroin convulse to Wesley's mouth motions. The experience was like wanting to urinate on an empty bladder. Never had Jason imagined that gay foreplay would bring him to the edge of nirvana. Part of him swore revenge against Wesley for this.

A voice of reed cooed.

Jason parted his eyelids of pecan brown and turned his diamondish face left.

To his astoundment, Claire was rubbing her bared slit. She was facing up like a mermaid sunbathing on the sands of the Caribbean. Claire's back was arched. It straddled the golden line between the ecru rug of the alcove and the oakwood strips of the living room floor. Like this, Claire writhed tinglingly.

Jason ogled Claire. Each breath he took shortened, and his lithe body heated to the sizzle in his gonads.

The night breeze whiffled around Jason's quadriceps and cooled his skin.

Jason sighed in pleasure.

Claire slipped her white ballerina shoes off via the heel of each foot.

Jason yawped the grunt of a football player—pushing whenever Wesley dove into his dick and withdrawing whenever Wesley slicked out.

Claire shucked her yellow miniskirt further down and pushed her white panties down the rest of the way.

"Lord, have mercy," Jason said. He pulled Wesley's golden-yellow hair with the power of an airliner's engines upon takeoff.

Wesley's deep blues pleaded for mercy against Jason's double-handgrip of his hair. So intense was the yearning in those upright half-saucers that Wesley literally beseeched Jason to kiss him.

Jason looked upon Wesley the way a bully glazes at a floored wimp.

Wesley's pupils were Os in large font, and yet, they dilated even more.

Jason groused, "You want my straight sperm?"

Wesley bobbed his noggin.

"Then, suck like the faggot you are!" Jason said and pulled Wesley's golden-yellow hair toward him.

Wesley cuffed the smooth skin over Jason's hamstrings, and a sonic boom reverberated through the brightly lit room.

"What the fuck?" Jason said.

Wesley kneaded the slices of gingerbread and slithered his palms northward.

Brusquely, Jason arced his hands back. "You're not touching my butt, queer pouf! You're only gonna suck my cock, like you and your hussy planned in the car."

Wesley eyed him apologetically and allowed Jason to lower his hands in the appropriate direction.

The top of Wesley's fingers dabbed Jason's palms with moisture.

Jason jerked his embrace away as if taking his hands off a hot stove.

Looking on into Jason, Wesley's deep blues exuded a gush of spiritual pre-cum.

Jason rammed his brownish dick harder into Wesley's mouth—in and out, up and down. "You like my straight cock, don't you?"

Wesley nodded achingly.

"Then, take it, Mary!"

Wesley slurped the prong louder.

"Fucking queer fag!" Jason hollered. His draining eyes flitted toward the maize walls. "I can't believe I'm about to—" Shock rocked Jason's psyche as he realized that his cock was—indeed—capable of ejaculating into another guy.

Wesley sucked harder, deeper, and faster, his mouth a washing machine on final spin cycle.

"Oh, yeah! Oh, yeah!" Jason heaved. His heart flooded with guilt.

Under his breath, Wesley hummed in crescendo.

Jason shut his eyes tighter than a power ball in a fist, and he sprayed one, two, four, eight,eleventimes into the pansy's head.

Wesley kept swallowing; Jason's dick stopped spewing; and Wesley's throat ruffled the cock for the last time.

At last, Jason dropped to his knees, arched left, and fell on his back.

* * * *

Jason lay on the golden border of the floor, staring at the milky-whiteness of the ceiling.

"Now, wasn't that a worthwhile experience?" Claire said.

"Unfucking believable," Jason panted.

"Are you ready for me?" she said.

"Give me a second," Jason heaved.

The vertical slats of the white blind clacked to a whiff of air. The cool breeze swept over Jason's skin like fall leaves wafting off the earth. A scent of pine needles infiltrated Jason's nostrils, in turn, and brought them the freshness of the spruces, firs, and cypresses outside the apartment.

Jason inhaled deeply, trying to regain his strength.

"Stick it to me," Claire whispered in a trio of tinkles.

Lazily, Jason rolled his head left. "What!"

Wesley bumped toward the V between Claire's spread legs. "You're not the only guy in the world," Wesley answered. He squatted before Claire like a mountain overlooking a valley, and he untied his white basketball sneakers.

Something about the sound of Wesley's shoelaces made Jason quiver with excitement and blush with envy.

As if starting to kowtow, Wesley lowered his knees to the beige rug, then pushed his white sneakers off via his derriere. Wesley jolted his deep-blue boxers and white briefs down, squeezed them over his knees, and stepped out of his rumpled clothes.

Wesley's skin looked about 30% thicker than the skin of girls.

Jason's nozzle rose to the Edenic beauty of Wesley's skin.

Claire's bush, however, jumped at Jason.

Jason goggled at the stunningly arousing work of art. How could he have missed the V that Claire had shaved above her cunt? As for Wesley's huge frankfurter, how could Jason have assumed otherwise?

Wesley gloated at the red-hot of Claire's prepuce. Swift as a golden eagle swooping upon a rabbit, he placed the tip of his foreskin between the lips of Claire's vulva.

Jason propped his rising torso toward his left. "But you're gay!"

"For your information, I'm trisexual," Wesley said. He pushed his swollen shaft into Claire's cleft.

Dipping his forehead, Jason tipped his eyes at Wesley and arched his amber eyebrows so as to say:Come again?

"Zone 3 of that graph behind you," Wesley said.

Jason turned his sand-colored neck further left. Quickly, he studied the three interlacing circles that floated left to right inside the large picture frame. Why, Jason wondered, did each circle have a different season inside? Why were the circles different sizes, with the "autumn" circle in the middle the largest? Was that the bi symbol of the late teens?

Wesley placed Claire's heels on his toned shoulders. He inclined forward his muscular physique, slunk his woody deeper than the lowest oil rig, and thrusted like a bonobo.

This is gayness gone too far!Jason howled in his mind.A queer guy fucking a girl just to prove he's like me?

Wesley kissed Claire's curved neck. He turned his round chin left. "You thought I couldn't shag girls, eh?"

Jason's lips moved to unformed words.

"Well, Ican!" Wesley said.

Claire purred.

"See?" Wesley continued. He eyed Jason on. "I can take her as much as you can." Wesley straightened his head and pumped his peter harder than a pestle in a mortar.