The Dairy State Boy

I couldn't keep my eyes off of it. And, the more I stared, the harder I got. And, the harder I got, the more restless I became. And, the more restless I became, the less able I was to resist. I wanted to move across the room. Then, I needed to move across the room. Then, I moved across the room, drawn to, and almost mesmerized by, his dick.

"What?" he asked out of the corner of his eye, not looking up, even though I was standing at his hip.

"Take your boxers off."

"What?" he asked, looking up and locking his eyes on mine.

"Take your boxers off," I repeated, deadpan.

"Yeah?" he asked, a smile on his lips.

"Yeah."

He must've seen what was coming in my eyes. He raised his hips, slid his boxers off, and lowered his hips to the bed.

"Told you so," he said as I moved onto the bed and between his legs.

"Don't brag.... Is there anything you don't want me to do?"

"Stay below my waist and out front, but -- other than that -- do what you want. If you cross the line, I'll let you know."

"Is this going to be a one and done or is this going to be a thing?"

"Only time will tell, but the plan should be that it will be a 'thing'. I mean, you're not a vegetarian... "

I looked at his erection, flat against his stomach. I looked at his scrotum, covered in fuzz and dangling, holding two large balls.

I ran my hands up his inner thighs. I liked the soft, white skin that hardly ever saw the sun.

I pulled my finger along the part of his ass crack that was visible.

"I don't think so," I heard from above the magazine.

I wrapped my hand around his erection and pulled it up. He put his magazine over his face.

"Nothing changes between us, right?" I asked.

"Nothing changes between us."

I don't know if he knew it, but I knew I was lying. There was no way I could take his dick and his nut and, tomorrow, pretend I hadn't done either.

Still, a boy wants what a boy must have. I slid my mouth over his glans, the sweet silkiness soft on my tongue and contrasting nicely with the salty fluid leaking from him.

I slid my mouth down his shaft and then slowly started taking him, back and forth, back and forth.

I removed my mouth and moved to his balls, licking and then sucking each egg into my mouth as he squirmed below me.

"Just as I suspected," I heard, and I knew his suspicion had been "a guy gives better head."

I moved back to his dick, repeating how I had introduced myself moments before, taking his glans and then his shaft.

I locked in and gave him the best blowjob I could. I made love to his dick, kissing and licking and sucking Goldie with all that I had learned and all that I had imagined. Every time he got close, I moved away, until I was certain he had retreated enough that I could return. On this trip, I was the master, Kip to his Dork.

He was delicious. As I tasted him, my mind raced ahead to the moments I assumed were coming, to the moment when we would first kiss, to the moment when he would first reciprocate, to the moment when he would for the first time let me sit on his perfect dick and use my ass the way I'm currently using my mouth. For I suspected how the story would go, now that we had crossed the"I'll let you blow me" line. The train had to keep thundering down the tracks. It just had to.

Pulling off, I said "tell me what you want and tell me how you feel."

"Just keep doing what you're doing.... You're so good at it.... It's is amazing.... When it's time, I'm going to blow the back of your head off.... Holy fuck.... Motherfucker.... That, keep doing that, just like that, omigod...."

"That" was my hand and mouth moving as one, fast and tight.

I had him, and I knew it.

"Take my nut... Take my nut..." he called out, exploding, blast after blast of deliciousness filling my mouth as he twitched and twitched. He growled as he did, his hips raising up off the bed.

I swallowed and swallowed. I didn't lose a drop, even though his diet meant he didn't taste as he could have.

I slowed down, but I didn't pull off. I knew how to take a dick, and I knew that taking a dick meant I wasn't finished until he said I was finished.

When he couldn't take any more, I moved to his balls, licking and tickling.

When he said "Little Bird," I sat up. The magazine was no longer over his eyes, but his hands were.

Without a word, he moved around and over me, grabbed his boxers, and left the room. He was gone a long time.

I moved back to my own bed. I imagined he was in the bathroom, staring into the mirror, disgusted by what had happened and recriminating. For, I also suspected how the story could go, how "nothing changes between us" could disappear into the miasma of "I can't believe I let him take my dick," a regret that inhibited conversations and eye contact and friendship.

Attie returned to the room, boxers on, brow deeply furrowed. I wanted to say something, but I didn't know what. So, I said nothing. I watched as our friendship evanesced.

He went back to his bed and his magazine.

I moved to my desk and started studying, my back to him.

When he hit his light and turned his back to me, I could barely breathe.

"Attie?" I asked, my voice a whisper, not because I was whispering, but because I had no voice.

"Yeah?" he said, after far too long.

"Are you okay?"

"I don't know, Kevin. I seriously don't know."

The "Kevin" stung me, as it sounded alien. I had only known "Little Bird" for months and months.

Shortly after, Attie's light snore signalled he was sound asleep. Although I had gone to bed, I was not and would not be.

The following morning, I heard him get up, shower, and leave. He had been quieter than he'd ever been, caring for the first time since I could remember about waking me and leaving without the normal "See ya' later, Little Bird."

He was still gone when I returned to the room. "Fuck," I thought to myself, recognizing that I shouldn't have given in, that I shouldn't have believed the pledge, that I should've known not to risk it. Even if you mean it in the moment, even if you think a blow job can just be a blow job, the intimacy of having your dick in someone's mouth, of coming in someone's mouth, of having someone swallow your cum, well, it tends to change things.

I was in bed surrounded by darkness when the door clicked, signalling his return. He was as careful returning as he had been leaving.

"Attie," I said, into the darkness.

"Shit," he said. "You scared me. I thought you were asleep."

"I'd rather scare you than scar you," I said.

"You didn't scar me," he admitted, sighing. "I'm sorry I've been a dude."

"Did you hate it?"

"No, not at all. I liked it. A lot. Maybe too much."

"I'm not sure I know what that means?"

"Can we talk about it in the morning?"

I wanted to say no. I wanted to say "we need to talk about it now, before it gets too big." Instead, I said "sure." We were not equals.

I barely slept again.

The next morning, we went for a run together. Once we had settled into our rhythm, I raised the night before.

"I really liked when you took my dick," he answered. "But, I also really like being your friend. And, I got bogged down in whether a 'friends with benefits' thing could really work, for either of us, because I'm going to want you to take my dick all the time. And, by 'all the time', I mean 'all the fucking time'. And, if you take my dick all the fucking time, then I'm worried you're going to want more, and I'm not going to give you more. I'm sure of it, I'm not going to give you more. So, I'm not sure it can work."

"I think it can."

"I think it can, but only if we make it. And, we'll have to work hard to make it. Not matter what, we can't let it become a thing. And, if it does, for either of us, then we have to stop, no questions asked, no recriminations."

"Agreed."

"I mean, I can't get pissed if you don't want to do it, and you can't get pissed if I don't want to do it. It really has to be no strings attached. It really has to be transactional, each and every time."

"Agreed."

"No jealousy."

"Agreed."

"No pouting."

"Agreed."

"You can't fall in love with me."

"I won't."'

I knew that last one was a lie. I was already in love with him. I had been for a long time, my post-Kip "never again" too week to hold.

That night, Attie called "Little Bird" and asked "Do you want to take a suck?"

I was taken aback. I mean, "Do you want to take a suck?" Who asks like that?

"Are you sure?" I asked.

"I am. We need to de-mystify it."

I bolted to his bed. Once you start, you never want to stop.

"You're not hard," I said, when he pulled the blankets aside to give me access.

"I know," he said. "I'll get hard in your mouth."

As I licked his soft dick and took it in my mouth, he placed his pillow over his chest and spread his legs, giving me room to work.

"You can make noise, if you want," he said.

I was noisy generally, so letting him know I enjoyed his dick in my gullet was not an issue. I moaned with pleasure.

"You can make noise, too, if you want," I said, when I took my first break.

"Oh, I will."

I went back to his dick, using only my mouth. I kissed and licked and sucked while Attie provided very positive feedback. I added my hand and a twisting motion.

"Fuck," he said. "Any more of that, and I'll come."

"That's the goal," I answered, my hand and mouth still around his dick.

I kept doing what I was doing. In no time, Attie's entire body tensed, and he cried out, broadcasting the pleasure he was receiving from my hand and my mouth.

I devoured his pleasure, arrogating it unto myself.

"Fuck," he said, when I was finished and I was licking and tickling his balls. "I feel like I've gone from amateur to professional."

"I told you I'm good at it."

"You are. You really fucking are. You should teach classes so girls learn to do it the right way. 'Taking Dick 101,' with Kevin Michaels."

"I think I'm more upper level than 101."

"You're right. You're upper class. 'Taking Dick 401,' with Kevin Michaels."

The next day, I put a liter of grapefruit juice on his bedside table. I didn't tell him why. I didn't have to.

From that day forwward, he drank grapefruit juice like water, which inured to my benefit. It tempered the bitterness of his vegetarianism.

It also inured to his benefit. Like he said, he liked to eat his own nut.

* * * * *

Once the roller coaster starts, you can't get off of it. You have to stay buckled in and ride it out.

At first, it was only every other day or so. But, as Attie became more and more committed to de-mystification, he wanted it more and more. Every time, the invitation was the same: "Do you want to take a suck?"

I didn't mind, but no one asks for it like that.

I also didn't mind that, once I started taking his nut, he was regularly nude. "It's how I came into the world," he said.

"I like my body," he added.

We kept the head as transactional as we could. I was surprised that I could; I assumed that, once we introduced intimacy, I'd fall in love. I didn't. I loved Attie, but I didn't fall in love with him.

"It's so much better than I imagined," he said one morning, after an intense and unhurried session, my head on his thigh as I aftermathed his balls and glans. "The first time a girl sucked my dick, I was amazed at how good it felt. But, that was nothing compared to when you do it."

"No girl has ever sucked my dick," I admitted. "Kip was my first and only."

"Was he as good as you are?"

"I don't know. But, he was really really good."

"Is my dick better than his?"

"They're different."

"I didn't ask if they were different. I asked if mine is better."

"You need it to be better, don't you?"

"Yes. Very much. Right now, it's all I need.""

"You're vainglorious."

"I think my main vein is glorious."

"It is."

"But is it better? Please please please tell me it's better."

"It is," I flattered, rewarding his playfulness and splitting hairs.

"Do you want to take another suck?" he asked, his hand pushing me toward our first double feature.

I answered with actions, not words. I took his soft dick in my mouth and worked a nut from him.

Aside from when his dick was in my mouth, Attie and I kept it chill. We kept running and doing sit ups and push ups.

I thought about stopping. But, every time I thought "this is the last time" or "I won't do this again," a simple request had me back at him, kneeling between Attie's legs on the bed while he shielded himself with a pillow.

Once, I asked if I could touch myself while I sucked him. He asked if I could wait until he was finished.

Another time, I offered that we could try different positions.

"You could stand. Or, if you wanted to feel like you were fucking something, I could hang my head over the edge of the bed."

"I'm good with how we do it. When I'm getting head, I like to be super passive."

* * * * *

After about a month, Attie asked whether there was anything he could do that would make it better for me, "other than the juice."

I told him he could relax the rules.

"I'm not going to touch you," he said.

"That's fine," I said. "But, you could let me wander north, above your waist. And, south, to your back door."

We talked it through. Attie wanted to keep the north off limits. "If you lick my armpits and my nipples, if you kiss my chest and tummy, then it's not going to be transactional, at least not in my mind. It'll be too lovey-dovey. If you stay in my nethers, it won't."

"How about the backside, then? That's part of your nethers."

"I'll think about it."

He didn't think long. That night, he asked that I take a suck for the third time that day. While I did, he raised his knees and spread his legs wider than he ever had.

I tongued his dick, then his balls, and then his taint. While I tongued his taint, I lodged my hands behind his knees and pushed, which resulted in the crack of his ass opening to me.

He had gotten himself ready. There was virtually no smell, certainly nothing redolent of the funk that normally formed by the end of the day.

There was also virtually no taste, which I discovered as I slowly tongued around and through his asshole. As I did, all I could think was "I want to fuck you... I really want to fuck this."

I tongued him like I was getting him ready to be fucked. I coated him and then devoured him.

I could tell from the noises he was making -- deep moans and sighs, every once in awhile a "Jesus" or an "oh fuck" -- that he liked it. I decided to press my luck and press my tongue in.

"I don't know about that," I heard, as he tensed.

"Just roll over and let me eat your ass, Attie," I insisted.

He hesitated, but then he rolled over, raising his ass off the bed to provide as much access as he could. I pulled him back and up and returned to my work. I spread and then penetrated him with my tongue. I imagined I was fucking him. My imagination was so fecund that I was soaking my briefs and I thought I might come. To avoid that, I slapped his ass and told him to roll back over. When he had, I returned my mouth to his dick and tried to suck the life out of him. When I got him going as much as I could, I licked the middle finger of my right hand, slid it up and down the crack of his ass, and then slowly penetrated him. When I didn't encounter any waste, I pushed in and searched for his button. When I found it, he bucked and came. And, it seemed the more I worked his button, the more he came, as if he actually had TSB that could only be released by the ball of a finger on his prostate.

"You can reintroduce the rule, if you want," I said, once we returned to normalcy, him at his desk, me at mine, music in our ears.

"I don't want. Once I got past the 'omigod that's my asshole stuff,' I was like 'omigod, I like what he's doing to my asshole' and then I was like 'omigod, I really like what he's doing to my asshole'. And, when you found whatever you were looking for...."

"Your prostate."

"... my prostate, I was like 'whoa' and then 'boom' and then I just kept coming and coming and coming."

"I'm well aware. I gulped and gulped and gulped. It just kept coming. I think you were right about TSB."

"I know I was right about TSB."

"Well, you don't have it anymore."

"I don't have it anymore."

After that, Attie controlled access to his asshole, sometimes giving it and sometimes not. I assumed he gave it when he was confident of his cleanliness and smoothness, and he didn't give it when he was concerned he was dirty or clogged.

* * * * *

We must have been good at remaining transactional. No one -- including those with whom we hung on a regular basis -- seemed to suspect we were friends with benefits.

That is, until Tax Day, when we were at a party, and drinking games erupted. First, it was quarters. Then, it was "Never had I Ever." By that time, everyone knew I was gay, so the things to which I drank shouldn't have been surprising.

When Jared said "never have I ever sucked a dick," I drank. I was the only boy who did. It brought about an uncomfortable chuckle.

When Claire said "never have I ever eaten eaten a box," I didn't drink. I was the only boy who didn't.

"Have you ever fucked a girl?" Kyle asked me, quietly, leaning in, just him to me.

"No," I said back, just as softly, almost as if I was embarrassed.

"We need to get you laid, just once."

"I've gotten laid."

"By a girl, I mean."

"Oh. I don't think I could, you know, get hard or, if I did, stay hard."

"Really?"

"Do you think you could get hard and stay hard for a guy?"

"No way."

"Well.... Same thing."

As is often the case, "Never Have I Ever" turned to "Truth or Dare." We were back in eighth grade, only with less inhibition and more knowledge.

Even though most of us were well oiled by that point, we started tamely, no one wanting the first dare. So, Claire took truth and admitted she wanted to fuck Mark more than anyone else in the room. Then, Mark took truth and admitted he hadn't had sex in almost three months, his last lay being Chari. Then, Chari took truth and admitted that, if she was going to hook up with another girl in the room, she'd choose Maddie. Then, Maddie took truth and admitted Attie was her best cock and lay.

Then Attie -- playing with Club Soda only -- took truth.

"I know you like blow jobs. A lot. So, who here gives the best blow job?"

I don't think she knew what she was doing. I don't think there's any way Attie had told her or anyone else that I had taken a suck, much less how often I had.

My eyes went wide as Attie made eye contact with me. I shook my head back and forth, not realizing that many of the eyes in the room had followed Attie's to mine.

No doubt about it, the jig was up. I flushed crimson.

Eyes closed and chin down, Attie admitted "Easy.... Little Bird."

All hell broke loose as I mentally flew away, up and out of the room.

"He blew you?"

"My turn is over."

"Kevin," I heard, the voice, not Attie's, ethereal, like it was coming through a tube, "truth or dare?"

I didn't open my eyes. I closed my eyes harder.

"He takes truth," I heard Attie say.

"When was the last time you blew Beef?"

I was still trying to fly away. But, for some reason, the question made me think of "blowing chunks." I think I smiled.

"This morning," I heard Attie answer for me.

"Seriously?" I heard someone ask.

"Turn's over," Attie shot back.

"Game's over," I heard Maddie interject.

I didn't hear any more. I scurried out. I was so embarrassed at the airing of my dirty laundry that I was almost in tears. I knew they were all seeing what I was seeing in my mind's eye, Attie's dick in my mouth as I sucked and sucked and sucked, the needy fag having hornswaggled his roomate into giving up the ghost.

By the time I got back to our room, I was in tears. "I may as well wear a scarlet F," I thought to myself, imagining the obscene gestures that would be coming my way as I walked through campus trying to avoid eye contact with anyone and everyone.