Cupid's Big Weekend

Just when I'm starting to wonder whether I can come simply from his rimming me (I think I'm pretty close), he releases my legs and returns to my cock. By this point pre-cum is dripping from the tip of my dick, and he licks it all up. Dirty boy! Then he starts bobbing up and down on my cock, and his intent is clear: he wants me to cum. Hard. Now.

"Oh my god, Cal--" is all I can get out before it happens. The cum just flows out of me, not even in spurts, but in one huge gush. He pulls his mouth off of me just in time, but he keeps pumping me with his fist and I drench myself with cum. I have never come this hard in my life, and still he's pumping. He doesn't stop until the last drop has oozed out, and then he rubs his thumb over my dickhead, massaging it in. Having just come, I'm kind of sensitive, but I think he knows that. He's just pushing me a bit.

I pull on his shoulders to bring him back up, eye to eye. I can smell me on his breath: my sweat, my precum, my ass. And then he kisses me, and I taste me and him together and I suddenly want to taste me and him together forever.

He is pressed tightly to me, and my cum slips and pools between our bodies.

"So, um, rimming, huh? Pretty advanced for a straight boy," I tease.

"Well, I've been with a few chicks who like anal, and it always seemed to me the polite thing to do if I'm going to fuck them there."

"And how does my ass stack up against the ones you've been in before?"

"Yours is stronger. I could barely get my tongue in there! But hotter, too. You have a nice ass." He grins.

"And you have a nice mouth," I counter, and kiss him again.

Suddenly, I shove him to the side, and use the momentum of that push to roll him over. I'm on top again.

"And now, I have some unfinished business," I scold, moving downward.

"I was wondering when you were going to get around to that," he scolds back.

In a matter of seconds I have him moaning and arching again, his hardness filling my mouth. He is so ready for this, and it takes only a dozen or so strokes before I feel his balls rise up against my hand. I look up and see the sinews in his chest cording up across his muscles as he tenses, his orgasm approaching.

It's decision time, and I decide to keep going.

"I'm gonna..." he calls out, but he knows I know. I keep sucking, keep pumping, and then it happens.

Like everything else about him, his ejaculation is bigger than life. My mouth is suddenly filled with cum as his hands grasp my hair and he cries out. I swallow as fast as I can, but there's so much of it.

"Oh god, oh god," he calls out. "Oh god, Reese, oh god, unnnnhhh!"

That name hits me like a hammer between the eyes. My throat closes, and I think for a moment that I'm going to choke. It's too much for me to process right now, so I push it out of my mind and continue my ministrations to his cock. And then I'm licking up the spilled droplets of his sweet cum, kissing him all over.

The quivering in his legs slows, and then fades. His balls ease slowly back down from where they had bunched up tight at the base of his cock. His breathing returns to an easy rhythm. I kiss my way up his torso, stopping to greet each nipple, and then I'm face to face again with him. He has the open, untroubled look of someone who has just cast off a great weight, like he's seeing the world anew through those crystalline, glinting blue eyes. He is happy.

He kisses me, tasting the last bit of his own seed on my lips.

"Hmm, salty, " he opines. "Not terrible." He winks at me. "But you, sir, are amazing. No one has ever made me feel that way. No one."

"Not even Reese?" I can't keep myself from saying. So, yeah, it stung a little. Shoot me.

He startles, like I've flicked him in the balls.

"What? Why would you say that?" He is confused, and, somewhat to my satisfaction, a bit hurt.

"You called his name out when you came just now."

"What? No, I did not. No way. No."

I look at him, my eyebrows raised in challenge.

"Oh." He has played in back in his mind now, realizing. "Oh, oh, fuck, Josh, I am so sorry. I can't believe I did that." He bites his lip. "It's just been such an amazing day, I don't know what I'm saying." And suddenly he turns on the basket-of-puppies cuteness, and I'm done. My anger and hurt, such as it was, evaporate.

"It's okay," I grudgingly offer. "I'll take it as a compliment."

"How about this--do that again, and this time I'll call out your name. As loud as you want. Just please do it again, okay?"

I laugh. He laughs. We lie on his big bed and laugh together. He wraps his arms around me and I lie, pillowed on his firm, smooth chest, watching his breath rise and fall, feeling his hand in my hair.

I want to lie here forever. I, like Calvin, never imagined it could be like this. I'm not talking about the sex; I knew the sex could be like this (though it never has been before, I'll be honest). But this part: the lying here, listening to him breathe, feeling his heart beat, shivering when his fingers brush the back of my neck. I never want this moment to end.

But there's something I have to do, and I know I cannot completely give myself to this moment until I do it. I take a deep breath.

"You need to go see him," I say, in the softest tone I can muster.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

He is silent for a moment, two. I wonder if he heard me, but then I realize that the hand that had been stroking my neck has stopped its gentle movement. He heard me.

"Why?" he murmurs, almost under his breath.

"I think you know why," I reply, continuing to speak mostly to his nipple, as if it were a microphone wired directly to his brain.

"But Josh, I said I was sorry. I don't know why I said his name, but he doesn't matter to me anymore."

I lift my head off his chest, reluctant to leave that perfect place but needing to look into his eyes.

"I know you don't mean that. You know you don't mean that."

"I do mean it," he replies, adamant. "One, he hates me. Two, the feeling is now mutual. Three, after what you and I just did, how can I even think of him?"

"Hmm. Okay, let's take those one at a time. One, he is pissed at you, and he lashed out. Perfectly understandable. It doesn't mean he hates you. Two, what he said made you crazy, the kind of crazy that only love can make. You don't hate him. Three, what we just did was incredible for me too. But as close as that makes us, it's nothing to what you have with Reese."

"Bullshit. That's just bullshit. How do you know we're not the ones who are meant to be together? We seem to be doing pretty well, right?"

"I'll be honest. I have no idea what we have, or where it's going."

"Then," he states, in his closing-argument-to-the-jury tone of voice, "we shouldn't be talking about Reese, we should be talking about us."

"Calvin, what's my favorite color?"

"Blue?" he offers.

The color of his eyes. Oh yes.

"Lucky guess. Where do I live? Do I wear boxers or briefs? Who did I take to my senior prom?"

He looks at me helplessly.

"Calvin, what's my last name?"

Silence.

He's devastated, I can see that. But I press on.

"Now, tell me you don't know the answers to all of those questions, and a thousand more, about Reese."

He closes his eyes and turns his head away.

"Calvin, don't. Don't turn away. Just listen to me. You need to see him. I know so little about you, but I know that you love him. Maybe not in the way that you and I have just demonstrated, but it's love. You know that."

He shrugs his shoulder, and remains staring at the wall.

"There are three people in this bed right now, Calvin. You and me--and Reese. There is nothing I want more than to curl up here with you and pretend the whole rest of the world doesn't exist, to keep rolling around this bed until we ejaculate ourselves into dehydration. But I would still know, in the back of my mind, every minute, that Reese is out there, unfinished business. Now, maybe you will find that he's really changed and doesn't want to see you anymore. Fine. I'll gladly take his place. But you might also find that your best friend is the one who is meant to be the love of your life, and I wouldn't deny you that. A chance like that comes around not very often, and you need to take it when it does."

I stop to catch my breath. This is hard.

His head slowly turns back to me. There are tears in his eyes, down his cheek.

"Why are you doing this?" he struggles to say, his voice thick.

"Because I don't want to be the runner-up. I love you too much for that."

My words shock him.

"Did you just say you love me?" he asks, in that sweet little boy way of his.

"Yes, I did," I nod. "And not in the church youth-group way, in case you haven't noticed."

"But you just got through telling me that we hardly know each other."

"You forget, I have three months on you. I've seen how you act, I know who you are. And today has only confirmed it. I love you. And because I love you, I need you to see him. So your mind is settled, and you know what you really want."

"Oh my god, Josh. This is all so much."

"Yeah, it's been quite a day."

He is silent, for what seems like 5 minutes. Finally, he speaks.

"Okay, let's go."

"What, now?" Does this guy have any other setting than "Balls Out"?

"Yes, now. If I need to see him before you and I can figure out what we are together, what this is," and here he gestures to our sweaty and cum-slicked bodies, "then I want to see him now."

He has a point. If it's really over with Reese, better to know right away, right?

"Okay, I'm in."

"Great. First, we need to get cleaned up again. Then we need to creep him on Facebook to find out what dorm he's in. Then we can get on the road." He's taking charge now, acting like the football captain.

Then he stops, and he looks at me, deep into my eyes.

"I just want you to know, Josh, that I can't imagine anything Reese could do or say that would make me not want to come right home and get back into this bed with you."

My heart races at his impetuous, romantic gesture. That's my hope too.

"Well, then, we should get moving," I say, slapping him playfully on the chest. "We have some driving ahead of us."

CHAPTER TWELVE

State College is about 6 hours away, so we go through the drive-through to get dinner for the road. Calvin drives, too fast, while stuffing french fries into that gorgeous mouth of his. I sip my soda and watch the muscles of his arms gently twitch as he steers down the interstate. I wish I had thought to grab my iPod or at least some discs, but I was only back in my room long enough to pick up some clothes and my bathroom kit. We drive in silence for a while.

"So, how did you and Reese meet?" I ask, not knowing why. I'm not sure how much I really want to know about this guy.

"In preschool, if you can believe it," he replies, chuckling. "Our parents have been friends forever, and they put us in the same classes, and on the same teams, that kind of thing. Now that I look back on it, it was like an arranged marriage or something."

"And the whole night-before-college thing came completely out of the blue? He never gave you any sign that he might be feeling that way about you?"

He ponders this for a moment, silhouetted by the sun setting behind him.

"No, I don't think so." He squints a bit, as if trying to see back into memories for things he might have missed--or misinterpreted.

"You know," he says brightly, "We lost our virginity together."

"And that wasn't a sign that there might be something gay between you?"

"Not to each other, stupid," he laughs, punching my shoulder. "But in the same room. At the same time. Actually on the same bed."

"Now, this is a story I have to hear."

"Well, there were these twins that we dated a couple of times. This was junior year. And one night their parents were out of town, and they invited us to party with them. So, we'd been drinking a bit, and at some point they took us both by the hand into their parents' bedroom. Turns out their parents had a bit of a kinky side, because the place was covered in mirrors. Walls, ceiling, everywhere. Next thing I know we're all four on the bed, Reese and I on top of one twin each, and we're all naked. I remember thrusting away at this girl, and looking over and seeing Reese doing the same. I looked away, like it wasn't something I should see, but remember, there are these mirrors everywhere. Everywhere I look, there's Reese, bucking and sweating. And he's looking right at me. I don't even remember what the girls looked like--I just remember seeing Reese's face get red and squinched up, like he's trying to shit or something, and then it happens. He starts gasping out these kind of soft cries, like a dove, and his eyes open, and he looks right at me as he cums. And suddenly I'm coming too, and our eyes never left each other. It was kind of intense, now that I think about it."

"Yeah, that doesn't sound gay," I tell him, in the most deadpan voice I can muster.

"But there were girls there! It's not like we were having sex with each other!"

"Yeah not like that at all."

He's quiet for a bit.

"Okay, I guess it does sound a little gay now." He giggles.

"Just a bit. But it's not like you went skinny dipping all the time or something."

He suddenly focuses more intently on his driving.

"Hold on there, big boy. Seriously? Skinny dipping? How much more cliche can you get? It's like you were living a gay romance novel and you two were the only ones who didn't know it!"

"We only did it once!" he protests.

I cock an eyebrow at him.

"A week. Once a week. During the summer. Okay, sometimes twice a week. Except when were were at the cabin, and we did it every day. But that's all!"

He looks at me, hoping his denial is working.

"I could suck a dozen dicks a day for the rest of my life and still never be as gay as you two were."

He bursts out laughing, and I join him.

And we continue, laughing, into the twilight.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

We arrive at State just before midnight. We roll into the half-deserted parking lot near the dorms, and check the campus map that I printed out before we left. Reese's room is on the ground floor of the hall in front of us. We won't be able to get in without an ID card, so we walk up to the building to see if we can tell which room is his. We walk down one side of the building, and none of the four rooms with lights on seem to be Reese's. We walk back up the other side, and at the second lighted window Calvin stops dead.

"That's it," he whispers, jerking his head toward the window.

"How do you know?" I ask.

"The poster. He always had it on the wall of his room. I hated that thing--the band was awful, but he liked the way the poster looked, so he kept it up for years. I used to think he knew I hated it, so he kept it to bug me. I guess he really liked it."

Suddenly, a form pops into view. Apparently someone had been sitting at the desk, and is now standing.

"That's him," Calvin whispers, and I try to tell whether the strain in his voice is excitement or anger or what.

"Well, now what?" I inquire, not sure what comes next.

"Give me your phone," he orders, his hand outstretched, his eyes still on Reese's shadowy form.

I do, because that's what I do--whatever Calvin wants.

He dials. Through the window I see Reese reach into his pocket. He has no idea that it's Calvin calling, because he's using my phone. He brings his phone up to his ear.

"Hey, Reese, it's Calvin."

I see Reese look at his phone, apparently trying to figure out how he missed the Caller ID that should have warned him not to pick up. He gives up and brings the phone back to his ear.

"Yeah, I know. But I wanted to try to talk with you about it, see if we can't clear the air."

He listens. Through the window I see Reese gesturing animatedly.

"Oh, I see," Calvin says into the phone, and then he motions for me to do ... something. I'm not sure what it is, at first. It looks like he wants me to cut his throat and then poke him in the ear or ... oh, the mute button! Right, I show him where the mute button is on my phone.

"He says that he can't talk right now because he's out with his girlfriend at a party," he whispers to me.

He takes his finger off the button.

"Yeah, that's too bad, Reese. I'm sorry I caught you at a bad time."

Reese is pacing back and forth, clearly agitated.

"Can we at least talk sometime?"

More listening, then the mute button again.

"He says he's at his girlfriend's house, and he won't be able to get away all weekend," he whispers again.

"That's too bad, Reese. I guess I have just one more question. Why do you insist on wearing that stupid Phish shirt? I always hated that thing."

Reese stops cold. He spins around, trying to figure out where Calvin is hiding. Only once he has spun around three times does he come to the window. Calvin steps under the glare of a streetlight and waves to him.

"Can we talk now? Now that you're back from your girlfriend's house?" he asks into the phone.

Reese hangs up without answering. He stands in the window, looking at Calvin. Then, finally, his shoulders droop and he motions for us to come to the side door of the hall.

"Are you ready for this?" I ask as we walk to the door.

"Yep. As long as you're here with me," he replies, and takes my hand. At this point I think we're both pulling for Reese to be a complete asshole.

We get to the door, and Reese is standing there holding it open. I surprise him, as I was standing in the shadow when he looked out and saw Calvin. But he opens the door wider, and we go in. We walk in silence back to his room.

We stand there, in the middle of the room, nobody wanting to say the first word. Finally, Reese speaks.

"So this must be Josh," he says, a little snidely, jerking his head in my direction. "The boyfriend?"

"Yep," Calvin answers, taking my hand once again. What the hell is he doing? "I'd like to introduce him to your girlfriend. Tell me," he says, as he looks around the room, "Where is she?"

Reese is silent, clearly wounded by this.

"Cal, look. I don't want this to go any further, and I don't think you do either."

"Reese, I apologized for what happened. If I could take it back I would. I was a complete jerk, and you have every reason to be pissed at me. But let's not let it end our friendship. We can still be friends, right?"

And here he turns on the full puppy dog look. I wonder if Reese is as susceptible to it as I am.

"No."

I guess not.

I stand there, looking from one to the other. They are perfectly matched in many ways, in terms of height and musculature (I can see under that Phish shirt that Reese is in fine shape indeed, though he's clearly built for speed, not sheer power). The major differences are in coloring: where Calvin is tan, Reese is porcelain; where Calvin is sandy blond, Reese is dark, almost raven haired. But their eyes--the ones that are right now boring into each other across the three feet that separate them--are precisely the same color: of blue fireworks in a twilight sky, of an angry winter ocean, of a sapphire in a burning jewelry store. They are stunning.

Suddenly, Calvin throws himself at Reese, tackling him to the floor. A blow like that would put me in traction, but Reese just grabs Calvin by the shoulders and pushes him off. Then it's his turn to lunge, and he barrels into Calvin's chest and send him bouncing off the desk on the other side of the room. Calvin pushes him off, gets back up on his knees, and grabs Reese by the legs. Reese kicks and squirms and throws Calvin off of him, but Calvin comes right back at him. This goes on for several minutes, with neither gaining the upper hand, until finally Calvin shoves Reese down onto the lower bunk and then lands on top of him. They are panting heavily now, and their tired fists slow in their struggle to find vulnerable openings to strike. Finally they grow still, and their eyes meet again.