The Good Old Boy Ch. 03

My eyes met his and stayed locked there while I stroked him with the Vaseline. I wanted to remember this moment as perfect, only him, with nothing before it. I closed my mind against the memories the smell and the feel of the greasy Vaseline tried to choke inside me, a different face in a more innocent time. Being home had brought these memories to the forefront and I wanted to wash them away right now, and replace them with images of the gorgeous and shining present, and the sweet, generous man I was with now, so familiar to me that I didn't know at all.

I lay down on my back with my eyes still on his and silently told him what to do. Rising up on his elbows, he lowered himself on me, still looking deep into my eyes, and he kissed me, his tongue gentle but demanding. Some guys won't kiss after the rimming action and the fact that he didn't care that I'd just tongue-fucked his ass was unbelievably sexy. My raging erection was trapped between our bellies and if he started to move, I knew I couldn't hold out long. But I didn't move to take things over; all I did was lie still and wait for him. What usually turned me on was to be in control of my sex partner; I could not bear to be passive or vulnerable. And yet for once, I was completely open and giving myself to Louis without hesistation, letting go of the role I usually played so well.

Our tongues played, our mouths locked; and when he slid into me with one long, smooth stroke, I tasted his moan and felt it shudder all through me.

In the car, he fucked me hard, with no lubrication other than spit and the clear, slippery drops that shone on the head of his cock. The dull burn of being stretched was what I needed then, it drove me to a place I had forgotten existed, and I rode him, controlling his strokes. Now he was so slick, he could have pounded me into oblivion, but he didn't move at all. Completely still, buried in me, he looked down into my eyes with his long hair falling down around his shoulders and down into my face. I reached up and caught it gently around my fingers, stroking the side of his scruffy bearded jaw. We smiled at each other briefly as he slowly began to push into me.

I was a little numb from the hard fucking earlier and at first I didn't feel much other than his weight, I watched him flush as his eyes glazed over, felt the sweat break out over his body as I slid my hands up his back, feeling all the lean muscles flex under his smooth skin. He filled me completely, all the way to the top, and not just in a physical way; holding him in my arms like this, looking up into his face while we were as close as two people could ever get, filled me with this deep, incredible sense of completeness I'd never felt in my whole life. And while I experienced all these deep emotions, all the sudden his short, careful thrusts hit something deep inside me and pushed me straight to the edge like it was a fucking cliff.

"Oh my God," I breathed. My body froze and through glazed eyes I saw Louis grinning down at me, sweat glistening on his face while he fucked me. I loved him more than I could stand; I grabbed him and pulled him down so he was crushing me with his weight and I captured his mouth with mine, catching his lip with my teeth, filling him with my tongue the way he filled me. My body took over, thrusting forward, harder, pushing him; he went rigid in my arms and let out a low cry into my mouth, and I felt the eruption of his orgasm inside me, pulsing, once, twice, and then stopped, still hard in my tight hole.

Breath heaving, he lifted his head and looked down at me. Between our stomachs, my own aching cock was close to exploding. The friction and the thrusts were just enough to excite me beyond belief, but not enough to make me come, especially when I'd just shot in the back seat of the car less than an hour ago. I squirmed, whimpering with my need for satisfaction, and Louis pulled out of me suddenly, leaving me with a bereft emptiness I hadn't felt in many years, like he belonged there; he reached for my cock, but I stopped him without a word and took it in my own hand, and he watched up on one arm while I quickly and expertly got myself off in just two strokes.

"Oh." I let out a wild cry while the orgasm flooded through me, shooting off orange fireworks in my brain while I kept stroking, prolonging it as my come spurted out over my hand, onto my stomach, and pooled in the light blonde hair that trailed down my abs.

A second later, spent, I looked up at Louis and saw him smiling wickedly. He dipped his head down, to my disbelief, and licked the come off my stomach, his tongue swirling through the hair. It was absolutely the hottest thing I'd ever seen in my life and I felt my insides contract like an electrical current was shooting through me; but I was too exhausted to get it up again for a second, or rather, a third round. I wasn't 18 anymore. Instead, I pulled him down and buried my tongue in his mouth, tasting my own salty-sweet essence.

After that we found ourselves holding each other seriously close; and there was a long silence that seemed to be building up to one of us saying something pretty intense. It was then in the silence that Louis' stomach let out a long, loud growl. We both cracked up, breaking the tension. I wiped up with the towel under us.

"Come on, let's eat."

Cooking was kind of my thing. I'd started cooking meals for Andy and Dad and me when I was about ten, and Andrew was more than happy to let me do all the cooking these days. After Louis and I cleaned up and got dressed, I cooked ham and cheese omelets, sausage, biscuits and gravy while we drank beer and talked. We knew each others' pasts well enough, but we weren't very caught up on what was going on in the present.

"Still have your Harley?" I asked, nostalgically remembering his elbows on my knees, my hands on his shoulders and his ponytail blowing in my face 11 years ago.

"No, I sold it. Having a flashy ride is the quickest way there is to attract the attention of the cops, narcs and the county drug squad."

"So... you're dealing?" I probed.

"That sounds so bad. I merely furnish my homegrown bud to a select group of friends, and they give me a little cash donation to help fund my education."

While I beat the eggs, I learned Louis was living with his dear old granny in her farmhouse while he worked as a vet tech during the day and went to school 4 nights a week, majoring in biology. Next semester he'd be going to veterinary school at the nearby state university. I was amazed, I had no idea he was so smart and talented, even though he'd gotten decent grades in school, better than mine. His grandma might look sweet, he told me, but she was no fool. She knew what he was up to and she kept him on the run, scouting out his pot plants no matter where on her forty acres he planted them; he'd finally found the perfect hiding place, and he promised to take me to see Little Mickey, his prize plant, taller than my head and dripping with resin, the biggest fucking ganja plant I could imagine, that even my brother had never laid eyes on.

The phone rang. I had no intention of picking it up. My mom's cheery voice came on the answering machine.

"Hi Sean, it's your mom."

"No shit," I muttered to Louis. She always said that when she called, like I wouldn't know who it was.

"Listen, honey, I was talking to the Lakes. You know them, they own the Wild Goose Saloon? They're looking for a bartender; I told them about you and they said you have the job if you want it. They know about your arm and they said it's fine. That'll be a good job for you to earn your keep until you get your cast off and you can help Andy in the shop until you go back to the city."

At that, I noticed Louis' eyes went to me. I never thought there was any reason for me to stay here. But now, I was much less eager to leave. After all, even a job slinging beer at a redneck bar was more of a job than I had in the city at this point. My mom left the Lakes' number and hung up after telling me to call her. Carefully I concentrated on the omelet, avoiding Louis' gaze; I didn't want to talk about leaving. The Wild Goose? Christ. I could just imagine that, hanging around with Nick and the other drunken rednecks from high school every night.

As we sat around the table eating and drinking, we started talking about high school. We moved in totally different social circles. I was more the artistic type and Louis hung out with my brother and the other stoners. "I think I wanted to fuck you then," Louis grinned. "But I wasn't ready to face it yet."

"I understand."

He'd had a serious girlfriend back then, Danielle, one of the bleach-blonde rocker chicks with big hair and ripped jeans, who hung around with my ex-sister-in-law Lindsey. They were all in my grade and I couldn't stand any of them. You hardly ever saw Louis without Danielle attached to him, they were even engaged at one point. When I asked him what happened to her, he made a choking sound.

"Let's just say she figured something out about me that I've kept a secret until very recently."

Oh, shit. Was he telling me he was gay? It was obvious he was at least bisexual, but I needed him to be honest about it. And I definitely wasn't going to push. I waited, but he didn't say anything more, so instead, as we got a little drunk, I started telling him about my four years with Marc. He was a professor of American history. When we first got together I was in awe of his tremendous intellect and more than happy to let him run my disorganized life; he was older and very regimented, very efficient, completely the opposite of me. Gradually his guidance turned into control, which I resented more and more, and there were numerous sexual problems, mostly his and not mine, even though he blamed everything on me. Now I was so relieved to be away from him, his passive-aggressive hold on me, his constant phone calls to check up on me, I was almost delirious with freedom. To think I was ever actually upset when he told me to leave!

As it got later, we cuddled up on the couch together, drank beer and smoked weed, playing Zeppelin CDs from my brother's collection; and I told Louis about the guys I blew in high school. I named a few names he didn't believe, but he really couldn't believe it when I told him about my first--and really only--serious relationship, the only time I ever really gave my heart. Bryan Mitchell. Everyone at school knew him as Mitch, only I ever called him Bryan. A year older than me, in the grade between Louis and me, Bryan was class president, National Merit Scholar, handsome, tall with dark hair and a smile that hit me like a clap of thunder even in the crowded hallways, not even directed at me. He was a brain, one of the popular kids even if he was a little nerdy, and I was not. At school we hardly even acknowledged each other; but we were together secretly for my whole junior year.

Everyone thought Rachel was my girlfriend, and Bryan really did have a girlfriend who knew nothing about us. We'd known each other all through school, but we were not in the same cliques and we never talked, not until the summer I lived with my mom between sophomore and junior years. Mom had just moved in next door to Bryan's family. It all started because we were bored, both of us without cars and nothing to do during the long, dull small-town summer. We hung out together a lot, listening to music in my room, not really even talking. And one thing led to another. I was sure by then I was gay, but Bryan wouldn't admit it, even though he was wholeheartedly into being with me. At least, he fucked me wholeheartedly. I was totally, deeply in love with him, the way only a 17-year-old can be, completely without reservations; and he even said he loved me. He was going to wait for me, and after graduation I was going to join him at the same college, where we would live happily ever after.

Needless to say it didn't work out that way. I didn't like to go into the painful details, it still hurt too much even after 13 years, but in the end I was profoundly hurt by him; and the scars cut so deep I'd never let myself get even close to feeling that way again. Until now. And that was why I was so petrified to find Louis breaking down my carefully constructed emotional walls and grinding them to powder.

"So... I don't know what's become of him or what he's doing now," I finished with a shrug.

"Well, I do," Louis stated suddenly. "He's married with two kids and he teaches chemistry at our old high school."

"No kidding." I shook my head. "Well, I feel sorry for his wife. She probably has no idea he's gay."

"Sleeping with a guy doesn't necessarily make you gay," Louis pointed out with some amusement.

"It sure doesn't make you straight," I snapped. Was he indirectly talking about himself? The thought made me feel sick to my stomach. I withdrew to the corner of the couch, pulling my knees up in front of me defensively; I must have been pretty transparent because Louis grinned and followed me, cornering me and pinning me to the couch while he kissed me, slow and sweet. It was too soon for either of us to be aroused again, and instead I just buried my face in his long, silky hair and closed my eyes with my arms wrapped around him, holding him.

The phone rang again; this time it was my best friend Rachel, half-whispering on the machine. "Sean, listen. If Tom calls here, you and I went out to the casino last night, and I had to drive you home. Okay?"

I sighed, shaking my head while Louis laughed. "A gay best friend's work is never done."

"What was that all about?"

In the course of explaining all last night's events, which seemed like they happened a week ago and not a day, I told him all about Ryan and Rachel, and then about Nick Innis and me, and what occurred when he brought his truck to the garage this morning, and exactly why I had my hand down my pants when Louis found me in the shop earlier. He seemed amused, but somewhat scandalized.

"Dude, isn't he your cousin or something?"

"Third cousin," I emphasized. "We're hardly related at all."

"I never would've pictured him as..." He wasn't sure what word to use.

"Bi-curious? Me either. He's definitely not gay, he's just one of those people that will try anything if it feels good at the time. It didn't mean anything." It was important for me make that clear, even though Louis wasn't asking, he was just kind of looking at me. Wait, did that make me look like a slut? Christ, we never even mentioned condoms, did we? I got all nervous and started babbling. "Not that I do that kind of thing all the time. I haven't been with anyone but Marc in four years, and I've been tested, so you don't have to worry that I'm going to give you any diseases."

Louis pulled me back against him and started massaging my shoulders. "It's nice you're concerned, but I trust you. I've known you too long not to. You know something I've always thought about you, Sean?"

"God knows," I answered nervously.

"You're way too uptight."

"Really? I think I've calmed down a lot in the last 12 years."

"You have, especially since you started smoking dope. Now that we've talked all about your ex-boyfriends, why don't we talk about you." He breathed into my ear. His hands felt so good rubbing my neck, working out the tension. "Tell me what makes Sean tick, what gets you off."

"Well..." This was definitely a subject I was uptight about. I tried to brush off the question by playing cute. "Umm, I like to masturbate."

"No kidding," Louis teased. "I hadn't noticed. But tell me what you think about when you're touching yourself."

"First you have to answer the same question," I stalled, turning it around on him.

"Okay." Louis didn't seem to have a problem telling me his fantasies, which he admitted he'd never talked about with anyone before. He'd already told me earlier that he'd been thinking about being with a guy for a long time. He'd seen enough porn to know the score. If he never got to act out this particular fantasy, he qualified, that was fine; but something that really excited him was the idea of someone watching while he was with a guy. It could even be a girl, he didn't really care about that, it was just the taboo of being watched that turned him on. I didn't say it, but the wheels were turning in my head; there were several ways I could set that up, if things worked out. If this didn't turn out to be just a one-night thing, and that would only happen if he wanted it to, because I certainly didn't.

"Now you. I really want to know."

"I can't, Louis." I backpedalled as fast as I could. "I'm sorry, but I just don't think I can tell you."

"Come on, Sean. If it's a little kinky, so what? As long as it's not illegal, or dangerous, it's no big deal. I won't be freaked out."

"My ex was."

"I'm not him."

Taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes and mumbled something under my breath.

"What was that?" Louis demanded.

"Peeing," I mumbled a little louder, squirming with shame. My heart was pounding. "I... I get off thinking about peeing, okay?"

"What, like on someone, or what?" Louis asked casually.

"No... on... on myself," I admitted reluctantly. "You know how when you're about to come, sometimes it's so intense, there's a moment you're not sure whether or not you might piss..."

All the sudden Louis started laughing, which was not the reaction I was expecting. "That sounds like prostate trouble to me, Sean. Wait... I'm sorry, it's not funny. There's nothing to be embarrassed about, that's nothing. It's kind of cute, actually. If you don't mind my asking, how did you become interested in this?"

"At first I just noticed that feeling, and it kind of stuck in my mind; and then I stumbled across some stuff on the internet, and I started seeking out web sites, and it kind of became my secret little hobby. I mentioned it to Marc kind of half-joking, but he thought it was disgusting so I didn't pursue it." Actually, despite my initial embarrassment, it was kind of a relief to talk about it. It had been a secret for such a long time and now I didn't have to hide it anymore. It was almost like coming out of the closet. Again.

"So have you ever done it? I mean, on your own?"

"No, I've thought about it, but I don't think I could handle it if someone caught me, or found out, and I really can't believe I'm even telling you this." I wiped sweat off my forehead. I couldn't have told anyone but Louis. He'd made a joke, but he wasn't horrified. A lot of people said they didn't judge, but Louis was the most accepting person I'd ever known. Why had I never noticed this about him? "Also," I added suddenly, without even meaning to, "whenever I think about it, I blow my load so fast, I've never been able to actually get that far."

"Well-- do you want to try it?"

"What, now?" I got panicky again.

"Yeah, sure." He shrugged. "It's really no big deal, Sean. It's probably pretty common. There's even a name for it, right?"

"Yes, but... I don't know, there's a difference between thinking about it and really doing it." The fetish, if you will, was just too secret, too recently exposed for me to take it all the way so soon. "I want to try it. But another time."

"Okay," Louis said casually, and to my relief he let it drop.

Long into the night we hung out in the living room, getting more and more drunk and high, talking about anything and everything. Somehow we managed to get Louis' soaked clothes into the washer and dryer. Finally, we were both totally baked, giggling and stumbling down the stairs to my room; I pulled Louis' clothes off, all except his socks, and we fell into bed but we only groped around a little before we were asleep. My last conscious thought was how good he felt next to me.

Our connection was almost scary. When I woke up in the night with an aching erection just from his closeness, Louis was already awake, waiting for me. No words were needed. I dug a tube of lubricant from where it was hidden between the mattress and the wall and Louis turned me over on my stomach and fucked me slow and hard in the dark, his long hair brushing over my back like a curtain of silk. I gripped the edge of the bed, hardly able to withstand the intensity. He belonged inside me. God, he was fucking amazing, and sadly, it had been a long time since I'd been with someone who turned me on as much as he did. I was fast becoming addicted to him. We had not planned ahead; there was no towel or shirt or anything handy to wipe up with, but in a moment of inspiration Louis reached down and pulled his sock off. He used it to wipe up as he pulled out, and then he grabbed my hips, rolled me over, and went down on me. I let out a cry; and at the last minute, caught up in an earthquake, I pushed him back and finished myself off with my hand.