Road Trip Pt. 02

He says, "Okay, let's talk."

So, I tell him about how I'm "out" at school. How I met a lot of cool kids and college is a completely different experience than high school was. I also tell him that I finally "came out" to my parents last week over Christmas.

"That's awesome, Quinn! They were cool with it, right?"

"They were. They are."

"I know your parents. They're probably planning a 'Coming Out' party as we speak."

I laugh. Then I'm a little afraid for a minute. What if they are? I shake it off. "I should have told them a long time ago, but I was afraid to disappoint them."

He scoffs, "How could the sweetest, kindest kid they could have ever hoped for disappoint them?"

I scoff back, "I don't know. I know they love me and always will. I just... I'm their only kid. And here I am... Not what they expected me to be."

"No. You're not. You're way more and way better than they ever could have dreamed you'd be."

I blush. Compliments do that to me. "Tell me about you."

"Well, I'm still the biggest closet case you've ever met."

I laugh. "Jay, you know I understand."

So he tells me about his school, his classes and a few of the people he's met. He raises an eyebrow, "Do I need to be worried about the new friends you've made?"

I grin and it makes him smile, "I told them all that I have a boyfriend back home."

"Good," his smile falls as he turns serious. "Is everyone good to you?"

I know what he's asking me. He's not around to be my protector anymore. I nod.

"Show me," he says.

"Jay—"

"Show me," he insists.

I stand in front of him and lift my shirt.

"All the way," he demands.

I take my shirt off, "Jay, the last of my bruises faded away six months ago."

His smile returns, "This was all just a ploy to get the object of my desires out of his shirt."

Jay:

His adorable crooked grin returns and he swats at my arm again, "You jerk. It's cold in here. Look at my goosebumps."

I am looking. I'm enjoying a nice long look. His smooth, beautiful, injury-free skin is covered in goosebumps. And his round, pink nipples are rock-hard and pointing right at me. Are we done with the talking stuff? I want to use my mouth in a different way. The first thing that comes to mind is sucking on those little areolae. I've never liked saucer-like nipples and Quinn's are, like the rest of him, perfect.

I take his hands and pull him back down to sitting, "We have a whole week of just us."

"And Sean and Seb," he reminds me.

I smile again, "I'm telling you, I think they'll be too absorbed in each other to give us much thought. Especially at night when they're in their room and we're in ours."

"Is that a real thing that's happening? Sean and Seb are..."

I nod.

"How long has it been going on?"

I shrug, "I think it's kind of just getting started, but I also think it's been getting started for a long time now. They're just finally realizing it."

He grins again, "They're kind of ridiculously cute together. I hope it works out."

"I'm rooting for them."

"Jay?" he asks softly. "Do you think we can at least tell Sean and Seb about us?"

He knows I can't. The four of us are more than friends. I trust those guys with my life. I love all three of them. But the thing is, mistakes happen. Innocent comments accidentally slip. All of our families know each other. Sean, for example, is one of the sweetest guys on the face of the earth. He'd never harm me intentionally, but he's also super close with his dad. We all love Sean's dad. He's the best. But if he innocently picked up on a comment or even a vibe from Sean, then that might slip from him to my mom or dad and then...

I tell him, "Let's just take the week one day at a time."

It's getting really late and we leave early. We really should be getting to sleep. But Quinn is still shirtless and he's sitting right next to me. I am only human after all. He's so slim and smooth and perfect. Sitting upright, there's the slightest mound of vulnerable belly above the waistband of his jeans. I'm hungry for it. On me it's my neck, on him it's the tummy. I lean him backwards and he knows what's coming. He laces his fingers in my hair as I surprise him by starting with a nipple. I've never done that before and he gasps. I give it some sucking and tongue action and Quinn giggles. I switch to the other one and he gasps again. Eventually, my licking and sucking mouth and tongue make their way down his torso. Before I invade his navel, I pull back and appraise my target. A perfectly round target about a half inch deep. I know Quinn likes my washboard abs but I am obsessed with his soft, vulnerable belly. With wisps of the tiniest short blond hairs, it's irresistible.

I take the plunge and hit my target. He gasps for a third time then giggles softly as my lips, tongue and occasionally teeth, get reacquainted with my favorite part of my favorite person.

Quinn:

We didn't get much sleep last night. We stayed up too long hugging, kissing and talking. We are going to be at the beach all week, I hope he didn't give me any hickeys. If he did, my friends are used to seeing me with a shirt on, long sleeves usually, even at places like the pool. If I have to wear a shirt on the beach it'll look familiar but only Jay and I will know it's for a different reason.

All four of us are still virgins as far as I know. The two of us have always had plenty of attention from girls, but neither of us were ever too interested. If Jay was ever "with" any of them, it was certainly prior to last April. We had a good long talk last night, but he still hasn't said certain words. When I told him that I finally came out to my parents last week, I suppose that was the first time that I officially told Jay that I'm gay, but he knew. I still don't know if he's technically bi or pan or anything else under that wide encompassing umbrella. Does it matter though? All that matters is that he's queer and he wants me. It hits me that the other way around is a better sound bite. Maybe if we ever write a memoir, we'll trade names. "Gay Jay and Queer Quinn" has a nice ring to it.

But we kept our pants on last night. Literally. Sean's dad's house didn't feel like the right venue for that particular first. As cool as Sean's dad is, it would be quite the awkward moment if he'd had an argument with his girlfriend and unexpectedly walked through the door. There are certain firsts that Jay and I will save for alone in our hotel room. We have six nights.

We're in the back of his mom's minivan. Since we stayed up so late talking and groping and kissing, we slept all through the first driving shift. It's after lunch and we're awake now. Under the cover of the blanket Sean had the foresight to bring along, I find Jay's hand and give it a squeeze. He squeezes back. His hand is way bigger than mine, but somehow, we feel like the perfect fit. He pulls my hand toward him and gives it a surreptitious kiss. I grin. He doesn't let it go. He holds my hand with my arm stretched across to his chest. He uses his other hand to lightly drag his fingernails starting from my wrist down my inner arm. I start to quiver and giggle. As he passes the elbow, my upper inner arm gets ticklish. When he reaches my armpit, I find the strength to rip myself free. I shake my head disapprovingly and he mock-frowns.

It'll still be a few hours before we make it to Atlanta where we plan to stop for gas and dinner. I start a little game of backseat footsie and he takes it to mean that I'm asking for a foot massage. I wasn't really, but I'm not complaining. Jay's big strong hands working all the right spots on my feet are a pleasure I could never tire of.

Still under the cover of the blanket, he works my shoe off my foot and starts gently through my sock. I lean back, close my eyes and smile. He sneaks a peek under the blanket and laughs. Today's "happy" socks are covered in beach balls and sandcastles. It reminds me of that first afternoon last April. The nice part of that afternoon.

Jay:

Seeing the beach design of Quinn's silly socks reminds me of the last evening we were alone together in August before leaving for college. We were both leaving a few days before Sean and Seb, so they hadn't finished their summer jobs yet and they both worked that night. I was at Quinn's house and we were in his basement watching the Cardinal game on TV. Or rather, I was watching the game and Quinn was pretending to.

I bent down, picked up his left foot and placed it in my lap. He folded his hands behind his head, angled toward me and smiled. I untied the lace of his Nike high top and slipped it off his foot. Ironically, his sock was covered in baseballs. And it was damp as it was just out of its shoe. Quinn has adorable feet. I want to eat them up. They are so smooth, hairless and pristine. And odor free. We had spent a long, hot August day biking, running, walking... What teenaged boy wouldn't be at least a little funky in the feet after a day like that in the St. Louis summer heat? Quinn, that's who. He's only a size 9; my hands are bigger than his feet. I couldn't help myself, I brought his socked foot up to my face and buried it in his arch, gobbling like Cookie Monster and he laughed and squirmed, but I swear, the only thing I smelled was fresh laundry. My giant size 13 feet are not cute and adorable. I have the feet of an athlete. They're big, clunky, bumpy, hairy, and yes, perhaps ever so slightly stinky.

After removing my face from his foot, I stripped off his sock and went to work. I could tell that his shorts were filling up with his emerging stiffy. Mine were too. Now neither of us were paying attention to the baseball game. I clicked off the TV and he opened just one eye.

He said, "They could still win, you know."

I scoffed, "Quinn, they're up by five runs in the bottom of the 8^th."

His other eye popped open, "I knew that."

He totally didn't know that. I held his foot captive in my lap with my fingers poised to drag up his sensitive arch. I asked him, "Quinn, who are the Cardinals playing tonight and what city are they in?"

He looked a little afraid. He should have. Failing this test would not go unpunished.

He said, "Umm... They're playing the Dolphins in Albuquerque." He grinned at me. That adorable, crooked grin.

I couldn't help but laugh. I laughed so hard that I almost forgot to exact his punishment. Almost. I stroked up his arch and he thrashed around on the couch laughing like a hyena. Then I wrestled the giggling Quinn to the floor and held both his arms high above his head, pinning both wrists with just one of my big hands. His shirt was riding up and an irresistible strip of vulnerable skin was revealed above the waistband of his shorts. My free hand found its way under his shirt and he trembled from my touch. Who in the fuck would want to hurt this perfect boy. Not me. Not ever. I look up into his impossibly blue eyes and he doesn't look scared anymore. That was just goofing around. I'm about ten times stronger than him, but he trusts me completely. I released his hands, freeing him, but neither of us moved for a minute, eyes staying connected. Eventually, he moved first. He grabbed me around the neck, pulled me down and kissed me. Our bodies were no longer wrestling, but now our tongues were.

That had been the last time we'd been together before last night. The foot rub had been forgotten, but we kissed and ground into each other for a good half hour on the floor next to the couch. Of course we didn't take things any further that night, but this night will be another story. Presently, I give him the foot massage he missed out on that last night in August. I don't tickle him. I don't tease him. I just tenderly and lovingly rub and caress him. My only regret is that I can't see his gorgeous feet through the blanket. Life is almost perfect. And then he picks up one of my feet.

Quinn:

I pick up his left foot and for a moment, he freezes. I know he's self-conscious about his feet. He thinks they're huge and ugly and gross. He's wrong. Well, okay. They are huge, but I love his feet. They are the feet of a real man and they turn me on. My feet look like they belong on a boy and the only thing I like about them is how much Jay seems to like them. His feet are manly working feet. I pull off his shoe and begin to massage him too. He reminds me that he's fresh out of his shoe and still sensitive by gasping and flinching until I realize I need to take it down a notch until he gets sensitized to the change in environment. My hands might be comparatively small, but I can handle his big feet. I love to handle his big feet. I also love the gentle musk he gives off. He thinks he stinks. I find it intoxicating.

My dark, handsome, strong athlete of a man doesn't have a square inch of his body that doesn't turn me on. I'm about to bust out of my shorts. Granted, there are still a few square inches of his body that I haven't seen yet - that will change tonight in the hotel - but I know there's nothing there that will disappoint me.

I duck my head under the cover and quickly slide my tongue up his arch. He moans a little too loudly, but Sean and Seb don't seem to notice. Next I suck each of his five toes one at a time. When I reemerge from the blanket like a turtle I am relieved to see him blissfully happy. I need to get him over the aversion he has to his own feet. To me they are as perfect as he is.

I really am testing the seams of my shorts. Is my erection more from the foot massage he's giving me or the one I'm giving him?

Jay:

It's late but not too late when we make it to our hotel. We really have no plans but to spend all day every day at the beach. We don't have the extra money for anything beyond the hotel, gas and unextravagant meals. We ask Sean and Seb if they want to come into our room and watch a movie. This is just for show. We knew (and hoped) they'd turn us down, pretending to be tired. We have two double rooms that are connected by an interior door. We hear them flip the bolt on their side of the common door and then there are giggles followed by the unmistakable sound of a body being pressed against the wall.

Quinn raises an eyebrow. "Wow. I think you're right about them. They could be just a little subtle. Should I feel insulted?"

I scoff, "Definitely not. We should feel happy for them. They're not just messing around, you know? I think they're really in love. Did you see them at Waffle House? The way they were leaning into each other? The way they looked at each other? They've got the real deal going on there. You know how I can tell?"

He smiles, "I can guess." I pull him in and we kiss.

I say, "Sean better have brought a second blanket for the drive home because I'm not getting under that one again until I have proof that it's been boiled."

He snorts, "I didn't have visual proof but I smelled the unmistakable scent of a condom being opened while we were driving in the dark."

"Oh my god! Is that what that smell was? I thought we were driving by a factory or something." He laughs. "Good for them."

The connecting wall between our rooms rattles. "And good for us," I say.

He grins and I wobble. "I've been waiting for this moment for longer than you can imagine," I say.

He closes the space between us. "Let's see. Easter break was eight months ago."

I shake my head. "Longer," I whisper.

"Oh." He's surprised. And genuinely touched, "Me too."

If he's lying, I don't even care. He pulls my t-shirt off and I do the same to his. His eyes dance all over my body. "My god, Jay. You're a freaking gladiator!" And his hands are now all over me. His touch is electric. Each point of contact is a sizzle. Is it really possible that he likes what he sees as much as I like what I see? Then I notice that there is a tentpole in his shorts. We've hardly gotten started. I guess he truly does like what he sees. A lot.

I put my hands on the waistband of his shorts above the fly. I ask him, "Is this okay?"

His response is nonverbal. He grapples at my fly, rips down my zipper and suddenly it's my ankles that are wearing my shorts. I do the same to him and we clumsily step out of our shoes, holding each other's elbows for support. I'm five or six inches taller than him, but wow! The tentpole in his underwear is almost as tall as mine is. I don't know what I expected. Any size on Quinn would have been the perfect size because Quinn is the perfect man. He's kind of huge. His magic fingers make my boxer briefs fall away. I reciprocate and now we are just two boys in four socks.

We kiss again and I stagger us backwards until we fall onto the nearest bed. I'm on my back and he's on top of me.

"My favorite position," he grins.

I have many more favorite positions than this one in mind for us as the week progresses. But like we said last night. One day at a time. I am so hard right now; I might never have been harder in my life. Suddenly his hands are on me and it's like a fireworks show in my brain. His hands aren't huge so he uses both. He works me like a sculptor molding his clay. He transitions to one hand stroking my shaft while the other fondles my scrotum. Quinn just proved there's no such thing as heaven because nothing else can possibly ever feel better than this.

He says, "Since my mouth is about to be full, I have a few things I need to say right now. Jay, You are the hottest guy on the planet. What are you, like zero percent body fat?"

I laugh.

"I am totally completely gay. Always have been. I like men. You are one hell of a man. You've been my friend, my supporter, my protector and my deepest desire for a long time. It is my lucky coincidence that the man of my dreams also happens to be the manliest, most masculine man alive."

While he's talking, he keeps the stroking going. Between the strokes and his words, I'm even harder than before, which would have seemed impossible just a minute ago. He lets go and for a moment I'm free to bob in the air in perfect rhythm with the beat of my heart. Nothing is happening. I feel the cool air of the room on my wet shaft as it glistens in precum. I open my eyes to find Quinn looking at me. Studying me. Admiring me. To my own eye, I'm nothing special. In Quinn's eyes, I'm everything.

He repositions himself between my knees and plants his hands beside my hips. His hair brushes my abdomen and I'm suddenly overtaken by a new sensation. His mouth is magic. I already knew about his magic mouth from the significant amount of kissing we've done, but this is something else. I don't know how he does it, but he takes me all the way in. All the way to my base. I'm not so much into self-praise, but I'm a decent size. It feels so damn good as he mixes up his routine. He slides completely off of me, then takes all of me right back in again and I think I might just lose my mind. Next he moves up and down quickly and it makes my toes curl. Then he focuses on sucking and my hands slap at the mattress. But what ultimately gets me is this swirl thing he does with his tongue. While keeping me completely enveloped, he manages to swirl his tongue in a clockwise motion at the top of my shaft, just under the glans. I actually can't believe with his mad skills that I've held out as long as I have, but the third time he does the swirl, there's no going back. I have been activated and detonation is imminent.

My voice squeaks, "Umm, Quinn?"

It's only fair to warn him, right? I mean I don't expect him to... He doesn't stop, but he acknowledges that I've been heard with a quick raise of a hand. He manages swirls numbers four, five and six before my explosion begins. He swirls number seven during my orgasm and my whole body feels like it's levitated a foot off the bed. Then I crash back down to the mattress, realizing that for a moment, I actually had taken flight. Quinn eases up on the intensity, but he lovingly sucks down every last drop.