The Dairy State Boy

By the time Attie got home, I was asleep.

Attie sheepishly woke me, sitting on the edge of my bed, his right hand on my back.

"Hey," he whispered. "Hey," he whispered again.

"I don't want to talk," I whispered back.

"I'm sorry, Little Bird."

"I know. Me, too."

"I shouldn't have looked at you."

"And I shouldn't have shaken my head."

"The cat's out of the bag."

"Way out."

"You're going to get calls."

"I'm not going to rent my mouth out."

"Not from guys, from girls. They wanted to know if a guy does it better and, when I said 'way better', they wanted me to tell them how and why. I tried, but I couldn't. I told them to talk to you, that I couldn't explain it, I just know you are on a different plane...."

"You didn't characterize it correctly. I don't give you blowjobs, I worship your dick. It's not the same thing."

"You worship my dick?"

"Yes, and so do you."

"True."

His hand was still on my back.

"If it makes you feel any better," he added, "everyone already knew you sucked dick. I mean, you're gay, so it's assumed. And, during 'I never' you confirmed the assumption."

"They didn't know I suck your dick. But, they do now. And, I'm sure they're all back in their rooms wondering if I'm sucking your dick right now."

"You should."

"It's after 2."

"I can get hard."

"Okay."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"I should clean up first. I think I'm pretty rank. And.... "

"I like you rank," I said, cutting him off.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

I flipped my light on and watched Attie undress and move to his bed. He sat up, his back against the headboard, not flat like usual.

"I want to watch," he said, answering a question I hadn't asked.

I moved between his legs. For the first time, I tasted pussy on his glans and shaft.

"You got laid," I declared.

"I did. That's why I wanted to clean up."

"Who?"

"Maddie. After the disclosure, she moved on me. She said that, since I had someone to suck my dick, we could go back to fucking, not dating, just fucking."

"I don't mind," I said, referring to the taste of her on him, but realizing from Attie's "It wouldn't matter if you minded" that he thought I was referring to him fucking her.

"This is so fucking hot," he said, adding his hand before I could add my own.

I watched him watching me. For the first time, I saw his orgasm on his face. It made taking his nut so much easier.

After that, I regularly sucked Maddie's pussy from him. I liked that, rather than stay with her, he returned to me, giving me his dick and her juices.

* * * *

Three days later -- Holy Saturday -- I went out with a group of friends that did not include Attie. We found a bar that would serve us, and we got gassed.

While the rest of the group stumbled around the dance floor, Tess -- short for Theresa -- and I sat at a table. Out of the blue, she announced "I've sucked his dick, too."

I raised my eye and turned my head toward her. I knew "his" was Attie's. She'd been at the Tax Day party.

"Early first semester," she continued. "We were at a party. I could see where it was, in his jeans. I was horny. I grabbed his hand, said 'come with me,' and led him to the bathroom. As soon as the door was closed, I went to my knees. He has an incredible dick. I wanted him to fuck me. He wouldn't."

"He won't fuck me, either."

"I know. I was at the party. He got quizzed about what the two of you do and don't do. He assured everyone there is no hand holding, no kissing, no petting, and no penetration. It's just a straight guy letting his gay friend suck his dick."

I hated the way it sounded. I felt like a mouth being used.

"I need to get laid," she said, changing the subject. "I haven't been laid in weeks. I'm going to heal back over."

"We should find someone to take care of that," I said, scanning the floor for a hot guy.

"Why don't you?" she asked, reaching between my legs and finding that I was hard. "Ooo," she added, "you're hard... I bet you're thinking of Beef's dick... in my mouth.... Have you ever fucked a girl?"

"No."

"Come with me," she said, grabbing my hand and pulling me through the dance floor, into the women's rest room, and into the last stall. We were both drunk, and we were a fumbling mess.

"I should have worn a fucking dress," she said, wrestling one leg out of her jeans and raising her leg, showing she was not wearing panties and revealing her hairy pussy.

"That's not right," she said as I tried to find her with my dick which, to my delight and surprise, was still hard.

She tried to guide me in, but my dick would have none of it.

"Sit down," she demanded, pushing me toward the toilet. When I had, she turned her back to me, told me to hold my dick straight up, and impaled herself on it.

I couldn't believe how wet and warm she was.

"Holy fuck," I thought as she started riding me. I couldn't believe what was happening.

I also couldn't believe how loud she was, her "fuck me's" and "yeah, fuck my wet pussy's" declaring to anyone who entered the bathroom that the last stall was filled with fucking.

She leaned forward, bracing herself against the door. When I tried to move, she told me to stay still.

I don't know how long she rode me, but it wasn't long before I flagged, just I suspected I would.

"Sorry," I said. "I don't think I can."

"Stand up," she answered. "Back against the door."

I did as I was told. When I reached for my pants, she stopped me, took my dick in her mouth, and tried to blow me. She wasn't very good, I don't think it would have happened even if she was, so -- when I thought it was okay -- I pulled her up.

"Finish me," she said, turning her back to me and grabbing the top of the stall with her hands. "Use your left hand to squeeze my tits. Use your right hand to finger my clit and pussy."

I did as I was told. I squeezed her tits hard, but she kept insisting I squeeze them harder.

In high school, I had read enough Fantasy Forum that I knew where to find her clit.

After a bit, she insisted "finger fuck me" and moved her hand to her clit.

I slid my finger into her. She was soaking wet. I wished I could get wet like that, so when I got fucked it could be more spontaneous.

Somehow, I got hard while I worked her over. I started sliding up and down the crack of her ass.

I told her to bend over. When she did, I used the juices on my right hand and my spit as lube, found her asshole, and pushed in. When I was all the way in, I fucked her hard. I pictured Attie as I did.

We finished and, as we dressed, I recriminated. She hadn't said 'no', but I hadn't really given her the chance. I did what I wanted, and I didn't care if she wanted it, too. Sex is an area of permission, not forgiveness.

"I hope it was okay," I said to her image in the mirror, fearing I had crossed the line and that I'd taken something that wasn't for the taking or, if it was, wasn't mine for the taking.

"It was more than okay," she said, re-lipsticking and relieving me.

"I should have asked."

"I wanted you to."

"Still, I should have asked."

"I'd have stopped you if I wasn't into it."

"Still...."

"We're good, Kevin. We're... totally... fucking... good."

Easter Sunday, I woke up in my bed, my head pounding, but my clothes from the night before folded neatly on my desk chair and a large glass of water on my nightstand.

"You were smashed last night," I heard Attie say as I chugged the water he had left for me.

"I know."

"I put you to bed and tucked you in."

"Thank you."

"You kissed me."

"I what?"

"You kissed me. On the mouth."

"I'm so sorry."

"You said you fucked a girl but were still gay and wanted to prove it."

"Oh my God," I answered, my memory of the night before slowly re-appearing, or appearing, whichever.

"Did you really fuck a girl?"

"I did. I really fucked a girl. In a bar. In the bathroom. In a stall."

"Jesus.... Who?"

"Tess, the blond chick from the party the other night. The one who had her goods in the window," I added, using my hands to push up my fake boobs.

"I know Tess. We refer to her as 'Yes,' not Tess. You've just joined one of the most popular groups at Carleton... Guys Who Fucked Tess. If they don't turn her picture horizontal in the yearbook, no one'll recognize her."

"You're terrible."

"She sucked my dick and didn't even know my name. After she swallowed my nut, she tried to get me to fuck her. I chose to get the fuck away from her."

"She told me both of those things. That's what got it all started."

"It seems she likes bathrooms."

"It seems she does."

He grabbed an unopened bottle of grapefruit juice from his dresser and moved to my bed, the grapefruit juice for me and my hangover. He sat cross-legged at the foot and told me to tell him all about it. I did, recounting what I could remember.

Attie listened raptly. He got hard as he did, just like he had months before, when he was telling me of his own sexploits.

"Wow, Little Bird," he said when I was finished. "I've never ass fucked anyone. I really want to, I just never get the go ahead."

I don't know whether I was still drunk, but I was emboldened.

"I'd give you the go ahead," I said, hoping his "I really want to" was a suggestion, not an aspiration.

"Sorry, Little Bird, but you know I don't want your go ahead," he answered, certainly and quickly.

"You can't blame a guy for trying," I answered, also certainly and quickly, letting him know there were no hard feelings.

"But," he said, looking down at the part of his erection that was visible through the leg of his boxers. "You can take a suck and prove you're still gay."

I didn't want to take a suck at that moment. I was tired and my head still hurt. But, I wanted to move past whatever awkwardness resulted from kissing him and "I'd give you the go ahead," so I agreed.

"After all," I said, after Attie had removed his boxers and I was between his legs, Goldilocks in my hand as I tried to work up saliva in my dry mouth, "it's Easter Sunday, and nothing honors the resurrection of Christ like a guy sucking a dick."

Attie was laughing as I took him in my mouth.

I had to suck him through my own laughter. I had barely started when Attie started singing:

Christ the Lord is risen today, alleluia!

Earth and heaven in chorus say, alleluia!

Raise your joys and triumphs high, alleluia!

Sing, ye heavens, and earth reply, alleluia!

* * * * *

"I'd like to get 100," he said, our last Sunday together, out of the blue.

I assumed he was talking about an exam score.

"Me, too. I'd like to get all 100s."

"I'm not talking about exams."

"What are you talking about?"

"Blow jobs."

"You're keeping track?"

"Sure."

"Where are we?"

"89."

"Jesus, really?" I said, quickly concluding we were averaging more than one a day and, then, imagining the amount of cum I had swallowed in the two months since we started.

"Really. We have to do 11 more in the next four days."

"I think I could do 11 today."

"I can't."

"You can try."

He couldn't, but we tried. We studied, broke, studied, broke, studied, and broke, all day and into the evening. By the time Sunday ended, 100 was a when, not an if.

"That was a record," he said, after I'd blown him for the sixth time that day, the clock showing that it was only half an hour before the next day.

"Six in one day?"

"Well, yes, but also 882 strokes."

"What?"

"I counted. It took 882 strokes. I was trying to get to 1,000, but I couldn't hold off. You were too intent."

"Jesus, my jaw should ache."

"It should."

We got to 97 on Monday, 98 on Tuesday, and 99 on Wednesday. We saved the 100th for our last night, when exams were over and all we had left to do was pack.

"I've categorized them," he said, drinking grapefruit juice while I had a little smoke.

"There's Fast and Blast, where you're like a man possessed. There's Low and Slow, where you deep throat me and slow suck me. There's the Skin Flute, where you kind of hum around me. And, there's Lunch Pail, which is just a normal blow job, although no blow job you give me is normal."

"Does it affect how you view me, as a friend I mean?"

"Nah.... I don't associate the two at all. There's Little Bird, this awesome dude who I can't imagine not knowing, now that I know him. And, there's Little Bird, this awesome dud who takes my dick literally whenever I want him to."

"I feel bad, sometimes, when I'm taking your dick, like I'm a pathetically waiting around to suck some guy's dick."

"You shouldn't feel bad. One, there's nothing pathetic about you. Two, it's not some guy's dick. It's my dick."

We hit 1,000 strokes on the 100th blow job, Attie talking me through the count so I did what I could to help him hold off. I knew he was counting, so I told him on a break to count out loud, so I knew where we were.

He did, and it helped, our laughter and playfulness prolonging it all. When we hit 1,000, I shifted gears and went Fast and Blast. I didn't care if it was our last time, I needed to get off that dick, before my jaw locked like I had tetanus.

It was not our last time. The next morning, he asked for "one for the road." I happily obliged, going Low and Slow. When he was finished, he pulled me into his chest with a "Come here, Little Bird."

My face was on his chest. His arms were around me. For the longest time, we said nothing.

He ended the longest time. "I love you, you know that, right?"

"I do."

"You love me, too, you know that, right?"

"I do."

"Before we leave for the summer, I want to do something for you."

"What?"

"Whatever you want me to."

"Really?" I asked, the excitement making my voice louder than I expected, startling us both.

"Really," he answered. "If you want me to blow you, I'll blow you. But, if I remember correctly, you want me to fuck you. So, I'll fuck you, if that's what you want."

I got out of his bed and moved to mine. I pulled up porn for him and set my laptop at the head of my bed. Knowing Attie's preference for missionary, I laid on my back below the laptop, using lube from my bed stand to ready myself.

Without my noticing it, Attie had moved toward my bed.

He took the lube and readied himself, his hand getting him as hard as he needed to be.

He kneeled between my legs and pushed them wide. I held him as he worked his way into me. I gaped at the breach, the delight that it was happening overwhelming any discomfort from what was happening.

"I'm going to give it to you as hard as I can," he said, which I took as more of a promise than a threat.

He kept his promise. After starting slowly, he picked up the pace, the pounding knocking my bed frame against the wall and then my laptop to the floor.

When the laptop fell, Attie moved his attention from it to my face. I don't know what he saw in it, but it must have moved him because, in that moment, he lowered his face to mine and kissed me.

Almost as suddenly as the kiss started, it ended. So did the thrusts, Attie still with a pale shock on his face. I suspect my face mirrored his.

For a fraught moment, neither of us moved or said a word.

I felt like time had stopped. I searched for words that might break the spell, but I couldn't find any. I just laid there, wondering whether the kiss was a bridge too far and would result in Attie pulling out, returning to his senses and his own bed.

As I did, Attie shocked me by taking my mouth with his, his tongue plundering as his hips started moving again. I grabbed his face, my tongue plundering as desperately as his, the kissing gluttonous and interrupted only when Attie mumbled "I'm close" into my swollen, red lips.

When he did, I moved my right hand to my dick and mumbled "me too" into his equally swollen, red lips.

He pulled his mouth from mine and hovered over me, his hips still pounding and his eyes silently questioning.

"Yes," my eyes said back, giving him permission to make me as much his as he could.

*****

"Jesus," he said, once we were cleaned up and he was again next to me, my head on his shoulder, my hand playing with the hair that trailed into his groin. "That was fucking intense."

I didn't tell him, but "intense" was the wrong word.

It was intimate, not intense.

It was also insane. It was perfect that we were both headed home within the hour. Otherwise, we would have lost our minds.

We didn't speak as we dressed and then carried our boxes down and then loaded them up. I don't know why he was silent. I know that I was silent because there was literally nothing I could think of to say that wouldn't ruin what had just happened.

We were also silent as we parted, the only sound between that of our tongues once again thrashing in each other's mouths, like each of us was trying to inhale the other.

"Jesus," I heard again, once he had turned toward his ride and I toward mine.

* * * * *

About a month into the summer, I received bad news from Attie. He was back with his girl.

About a month later, I received the worst news from Attie.

"Sorry, Little Bird, but I'm not returning to Carleton. I had a long talk with my parents, and it's too expensive for them. I can't spend them out. I need to transfer to UW."

"Well fuck" was all I could answer.

"Yeah... fuck" was all he could say back.

I was back in the lottery for the third time. They say the third time is the charm, but there was no way I was going to be a charmed as I had been with Attie.