The Northfielder and the Hermonite
"Bring me my arrows of desire" -William Blake
I went to high school at the Northfield Mount Hermon School in western Massachusetts. It's technically a boarding school but about half the students were day students, as was I. NMH used to be two separate schools: the Northfield School for girls and the Mount Hermon School for boys. I think sometime in the 70s the two schools joined, but it was still two campuses, about a five-minute drive away from each other. Students traveled between the campuses frequently for classes, performances, all-school meetings, social events, and sports. Nonetheless, the two campuses had very different vibes.
My campus, Mount Hermon, was the "normal" campus- it had the best sports facilities, and most of the football and hockey jocks lived there. The other campus, Northfield, had the better art and theater facilities and was where most of the freaks lived. I guess "counter culture" is the more PC term, but we called them freaks. If you had pink hair, bought all your clothes at thrift stores and voted for Nader, you probably were a Northfielder. The Northfielders called us Hermonites, and I don't think they thought any more highly of us than we did of them. Definitely not hatred or anything, there wasn't any real intercampus rivalry, just kind of... mild distaste.
I'm not sure I really had a style in high school- kind of preppie I guess. I wore khakis and polo shirts or button downs mostly. I never understood why people tried to look like they didn't have any money. I mean, there's nothing wrong with being poor, and it's not like I think people should be ashamed of it, but I just don't see why kids who had more money than they knew what to do with would wear clothes that didn't fit or were full of holes. My parents weren't wealthy, but they had enough money for me to dress well and I took advantage of it.
The one thing I liked about the Northfield campus was that it was really queer friendly, a lot more than my campus. I mean, I wasn't completely closeted; my best friend and a few girls (most of my lesbian friends and some ex-girlfriends) knew I was bi. I just didn't make it a point to go around telling everyone. I dated girls at school, and I'm "straight-acting" or whatever (although I hate that phrase) so I don't think too many people guessed. Except the guys I fucked around with, but most of them were in the same situation I was. I always wondered if it would've been different if I'd hung out with the Northfield kids.
I grew up about 10 minutes away from campus and about half an hour from Northampton, which is where I spent a lot of my free time. I've always liked Northampton; it has good food, great record shops, and a lot of dykes. I used to go there on weekends when the weather was nice and just walk around by myself.
One Friday afternoon sometime in the spring of my senior year I was in Northampton on my way to grab some dinner for myself. I was wandering around with my headphones on, not really paying attention to where I was going. Next thing I knew I kind of barreled into this guy. He shoved me back, not too hard or anything, and was like,
"Hey, watch it, asshole."
I was taken aback for a second, but Mom raised me to be a gentleman so I apologized. "Sorry man, I wasn't looking where I was going" I said, slipping off my headphones and taking a look at who I'd bumped into. He looked familiar. "Don't you go to my school?" I asked.
"Yeah, I thought I recognized you. I'm Ben." He stuck out his hand. I shook it. His handshake was firm and his hand was warm and dry and strong.
"Justin." I said. I'd definitely noticed him around before- he hung out with the Northfield freaks but he was pretty good looking. He had a kind of rocker/hipster style going on. That day he was wearing those black plastic rimmed glasses (we called them pomo-glasses back then), fairly tight, faded black straight leg jeans that sat low on his hips, and a tight black Velvet Underground t-shirt. I remember because I actually had a Velvet Underground CD in my Discman when I so carelessly walked into him. He had a shaved head (a short buzz, not to the skin) and definitely the face to pull it off. Both of his ears were pierced with little sliver hoops. His tight fitting clothes looked really good on his slim but muscular body. Not necessarily my type, but definitely hot.
"What're you listening to?" he asked, looking at the headphones hanging around my neck.
"Uh, White Light, White Heat."
"No way!" he said, "You into Lou Reed?"
"Yeah. Of course, dude. I mean, Lou Reed, John Cale, Moe Tucker. Fucking geniuses, all of them."
"I totally would've taken you for a Hootie and the Blowfish kind of guy."
"Fuck you!" I said. He laughed, and it sounded genuine enough, like he was laughing with me, not at me. He had a warm, rich voice I could feel right between my legs.
"Alright, sorry," he apologized. "I take it back."
"It's the clothes isn't it?"
"Yeah, the khakis don't exactly scream punk rock."
"Fair enough," I said. "Sorry I bumped into you. Where were you headed?"
"I don't know, I was thinking about grabbing something to eat."
"I was just on my way to Haymarket. Come on, I'll buy you dinner." I don't really know why I said that since I don't normally invite strangers out for a meal. It was out of my mouth before I could think about it, and I almost wanted him to decline because it was such an awkward invitation, but he was like,
"Sweet, thanks dude."
We walked into Haymarket and down the stairs. I bought our food, and we got a table towards the back.
"You run cross-country, right?" I asked Ben.
"Yeah, how'd you know?" he looked surprised.
"My best friend does too. I've been to a few of your meets."
"Who's your friend?"
"John Thompson."
"John's alright. For one of your people," he said with a cheeky little smirk on his face. "So, you a jock, too, Hermonite?"
"How do you know I'm a Hermonite? I could be a Northfielder."
"Um, because I'm not blind. Answer my question."
"I'm not really a jock, I don't think. I've been doing crew since freshman year, though." Actually, I was the least jocky of my friends, who all played football or lacrosse. They used to tease me a little for being the intellectual of the group.
"A rower, huh? At least you're not a hockey player." I laughed. The hockey players weren't all bad, but there were enough assholes on the team to garner a reputation.
"Yeah, well, I'm not crew anymore. I decided not to compete for a varsity seat this season. I wanted to be able to relax and enjoy my senior spring. I never really loved it anyways, and I'm not gonna do it in college, you know?"
"Yeah, I hear that. I'm not doing track this spring either. Hey, take off your jacket."
Confused, I slipped my jacket off my arms. I was wearing a polo shirt underneath.
"Man, I love rower's arms," he said, obviously looking me over. "That shit's fucking hot. Looks like you've kept them up, even if you're not rowing." I couldn't help it; I blushed. Ben laughed. "Calm down, man, I'm not gonna jump you. I just think you've got nice arms."
That made me blush harder, which made him laugh harder. I could just imagine the story he'd tell his Northfielder friends about the uptight homophobic Hermonite he'd met in Northampton. I tried to think of something to say in response, but I still sometimes got nervous talking about that kind of stuff and I came up with nothing. I hate it when guys just assume you're straight.
"So what else you into?" he asked.
"What do you mean?" I stuttered out.
Ben chuckled again. "Mind out of the gutter, kiddo. What kind of music are you into?"
"I don't know. Beck, Talking Heads, uh, Pavement..." I'll admit I was trying to impress him a little. He was obviously a music nerd and already a little judgmental of me so I purposefully didn't mention DMB or Pink Floyd, which I also loved. I think it worked, because he was nodding his head and looking pleasantly surprised.
"You into Yo La Tengo?" he asked.
"I only have I Can Hear The Heart Beating, but I think they're really good."
"You know they're playing at Pearl Street tomorrow?"
"Yeah, I know," I said. "They were sold out by the time I tried to get tickets."
"Listen, I was supposed to go with a friend of mine, but he can't go, so I've got an extra ticket if you want it."
"Are you serious?"
"Yeah, I'm serious. You wanna go?"
"You're kidding, right? You'd give me a ticket to Yo La Tengo?"
"Well, you'd have to pay for it," he said, smiling. "But, sure, you bought me dinner after all. And I'd rather give it to someone I know than scalp it. Plus, then I don't have to go alone."
Ben said he had to go meet up with his mom, so he gave me directions to his house. We agreed I'd drive, as he lived closer to Northampton than me and I could pick him up on my way into town.
I picked Ben up the next night and we went to the show together, which was amazing, of course. Every now and then I'd look over at him and just be struck by how beautiful he was. He had the most incredible combination of masculine and feminine features, with his lean, tight body and angular features and long eyelashes. At one point his was standing in front of me and the crowd was packed so tight that he was pushed up against me. I could feel his ass against my leg and I could smell his shampoo and I was overcome with the urge to grab him and pull him against me, but I resisted.
After the show we were both hungry for fried food, so we went to the Whately Diner. This was back when you could still smoke inside, so we sat there eating curly fries and drinking coffee while he chain smoked. I don't really care about smoking either way- I'll have a cigarette when I'm drunk, but I don't think they're either particularly repulsive or attractive. I don't mind the smell or taste, but I don't particularly like it either. That being said, there was something about the way that Ben smoked that I found incredibly sexy. Maybe it was something about how it called attention to his lips and his long slender fingers.
He sat in a kind of typically gay way, with his legs crossed at his thighs and the wrist of the hand that was holding his cigarette slightly bent. But because he didn't have any really effeminate mannerisms and he spoke with that rich, low voice I thought it made him look sophisticated rather than flaming.
We started talking about music, of course, but then we just kept talking, about our classes and religion and politics and traveling and our families and where we wanted to go to college. Wesleyan for him, Amherst for me. I don't know how we had so much to say to each other, but it was amazing. He was smart and articulate and obviously passionate about a lot of things. I noticed his hazel eyes had flecks of gold in them and he had a dusting of light freckles across the bridge of his nose and the top of his cheeks. By the time I thought to look at my watch I realized we'd been there for almost three hours. We just completely clicked.
After the Saturday we saw Yo La Tengo I didn't hear from Ben for a while. I was hoping he'd find some excuse to call me, or I'd have some excuse to call him, but it just didn't happen. At the very least I hoped we'd bump into each other between classes or something but we may as well have been on totally different planets. Finally, over a week later I saw him at the bus stop- he was going back to Northfield after his last class and I was going over there to meet up with a study group at the library. He seemed happy to see me and we did that handshake/hug thing (My best friend, John, calls it the "bro-hug") which is something I do with my close friends, but not usually acquaintances. We sat next to each other on the bus and talked for the 5-minute ride. He told me to give him a call the next time I was in Northampton and maybe we could grab coffee. I was glad to have an excuse to call him.
It was weird with Ben. I'd never been friends with or even really wanted to get with an openly gay guy before. Not that he ever said anything directly about it other than sometimes mentioning a guy was good looking; but I knew, and he knew I knew, even if we didn't talk about it. All the other guys I've gotten with have been like me. With Isaac, we had gotten pretty drunk one night and he was like, "sometimes when I'm drunk I think I'm bi." All it took was a, "yeah, me too, dude," and next thing I know his cock's down my throat. With Sam, he was the one who suggested watching some (straight) porn, and he was the one who stuck his hand down my shorts when I started getting hard. With Kevin it was pretty much the same thing. This dude Chris slept in my bed one night when I had a party at my house because all the couches were taken; that was a middle-of-the-night-pretend-it-never-happened thing. I didn't even know him that well. And I'd been fucking around with my neighbor, Tom, since we were like 13.
John, my best friend, has two moms, and I told him I was bi when were sophomores; I was pretty sure he'd be cool with it. And at the time I kind of hoped something would happen with him. He was totally cool with it but he's really actually straight so we've never messed around. I tell him about the guys I hook up with though. He gets a kick out of knowing which supposedly macho guys secretly like sucking dick, and I trust him not to say anything. Isaac and Sam are the only guys at school I've hooked up with more than once. My neighbor Tom and I have fucked more times than I can count, but he goes to public school. We still mess around sometimes, especially when neither of us has a girlfriend. I haven't really hooked up in a serious way with a lot of guys, but sometimes there were circle jerks and stuff in the dorms. I think that kind of stuff happens at most boarding schools. I've heard some fucked up nasty shit has gone down in Tron, the dorm where the hockey players lived, you know "initiation" bullshit or what not, but that's not really my scene. Not that I haven't jerked off thinking about it... but some things are left better in fantasy.
But Ben... Ben was different. Part of it was that he didn't have the whole straight-boy jock mentality about it, so I think it would've been harder to pull it off the covert, no-big-deal thing with him. Another part of it though was that I actually liked him, and a fuck-buddy thing just didn't seem quite right. And anyways, he seemed so much more experienced and kind of, well, more worldly than me or something, and I actually felt a little shy about hitting on him.
That Friday I drove to Northampton as soon as my last class was over. I'd be lying if I said some of my motivation wasn't having an excuse to call Ben. In fact, I called his cell almost as soon as I got there.
"Hello?" He answered.
"Ben?"
"Yeah?"
"Hey, it's Justin. I'm in Northampton and I was wondering if you were around and wanted to hang out."
"Yeah I'd love to. I'm at home now.
"Do you wanna come meet me?"
"Uh, maybe. I know this is kind of out of the blue, but do you get high?"
"I don't make a habit of it, but yeah, sometimes. Why?"
"I've got some chronic here at my place and my mom's out of town if you wanna come over and smoke a bowl."
"Sweet. I'm down."
"Great. You remember how to get to my house?"
"Yup. I'll be over in a few minutes."
When I got to Ben's house he answered the door in running shorts and a white t-shirt. He kind of different in "normal" clothes. More approachable, maybe, more familiar. It wasn't that he looked sexier exactly, but I did find the change sexy. Like there were two equally sexy guys in the same body- the cooler-than-thou hipster in tight jeans or the stoner boy next door. Anyways, Ben had already packed a bowl and he let me take the first hit.
Ben put a Talking Heads CD into the stereo. His weed was fucking my shit up fast and hard. We lay on the floor of his living room letting the music wash over us. When I'm stoned music can become incredibly sensual for me. It's like it has a physical affect on me; I can actually feel the rhythm and the melody on my skin and in my pulse.
At some point I looked over at Ben. He was lying on the floor a few feet away from me. His t-shirt was hiked up a little past his belly button and he was playing with the little hairs leading down into shorts. His eyes were closed and he looked completely blissed out. I started to get really turned on, but I was so stoned I felt like I was glued to the floor, completely incapacitated. I just lay there watching him playing with his happy trail and running his fingers lightly across his skin. He sat up and looked at me and I started to blush, certain he could see the lust in my eyes. Ben stared at me intently for what seemed like forever. Then he said,
"Oh my God, Justin, I'm fucking starving."
The mere mention of food completely derailed my train of thought and next thing I knew we were in the kitchen gorging ourselves on the contents of his fridge. By the time we had satisfied our hunger I was starting to feel fairly sober. We sat at his kitchen table for a while talking until I realized I had to go.
"Shit, Ben, I didn't realize what time it was. I'm supposed to pick my little sister up from dance class in like, half an hour."
"Alright. Oh, before you leave- my friend's band is playing a show at the Iron Horse tomorrow if you wanna go."
" I'd love to. Do you want me to drive again?"
"Yeah, that would be great. And you can stay here if you want to. My mom's out of town until Sunday night."
"Ok. Let me ask my parents. What time's the show?"
"It starts at 9. Oh, and Justin?"
"Yeah?"
"If you have anything besides khakis and polo shirts you might want to wear that. I don't want you to get beat up."
I laughed. "Thanks for the advice, Ben."
As I was getting ready to pick up Ben the next night I actually found myself agonizing over what I was going to wear, something I usually only did when I was going to meet a girlfriend's parents for the first time. Eventually I chose a pair of faded old blue jeans I hadn't worn for a while a) because for the past few years I mostly wore khakis or dress pants and b) because they'd gotten a little too form-fitting for my usual style. For a shirt I chose a snug black t-shirt that I usually would only wear under a button down. I also spent an embarrassingly long time in front of the mirror trying to get my hair to look messy but spontaneously messy-not-spent-an-hour-getting-it-to-look-like-this messy. And I was actually nervous as I rang Ben's doorbell. Maybe no matter how hard I tried I was irredeemably preppy.
My worrying was unnecessary. When Ben opened the door he let out a long slow whistle.
"Damn, Justin, you should dress like this all the time."
"I won't embarrass you in front of your friends? Or get beat up?"
"God, no. You won't be fighting anyone tonight, although you might be fighting some of them off you."
"I'm sure they'll be too busy looking at you." Ben was wearing his signature low-slung tight black jeans and a dark purple t-shirt that rode up just past the waist of his pants when he moved. He stepped outside, locked the front door, and then slung his arm around my shoulders as we walked to my car.
"Naw, they've all already had me. You're fresh meat. Don't worry, I'll tell them you're not available."
I'd never been to the Iron Horse before. It was a local amateur night. Ben seemed to know almost everyone there. I noticed a few kids that looked familiar from school, but they were definitely all Northfielders. I was pretty sure most of the guys there weren't gay, but some of them obviously were, and Ben seemed to know all of them. I wondered if Ben had been serious when he'd said that he'd been had by everyone there. He seemed awful friendly with a lot of people. This one guy, a tall, muscular redhead came over to us and swept Ben up in his arms like they were about to start ballroom dancing and then dipped him back deeply, holding him close.
"Benjamin, baby, where you been all my life?" he said, and when he lifted Ben back up, Ben whispered something in his ear that made the redhead blush and laugh. I felt a passing twinge of jealousy until I remembered that I had no claim on Ben. I realized that I had no idea if Ben had a boyfriend. Or after seeing the way a few girls kissed him hello, maybe he had a girlfriend.
The show was actually pretty cool and Ben's friend's band was one of the best that played that night. Ben introduced me to some of his friends but I didn't really get to talk to any of them. They were all good looking, even if some of them seemed to be trying a little too hard to look different.
After the show we went straight back to Ben's place. I immediately went to take a piss. When I came out of the bathroom Ben was standing in front of me with two cans of PBR.
"May I offer you a beer, sir?" he asked.
"I'd love one. Thank you, Alfred."
We sat in front of the TV drinking our beer and watching Comedy Central. When we finished our beers we went into the kitchen and Ben mixed us some rum and cokes. We sat around talking about the bands that had played that night. When I finished my drink Ben immediately made me another. I could barely taste the coke it was so strong.
"Damn, kid, you trying to get me drunk?" I asked
He looked a little sheepish, apologized, and then mumbled "just trying to loosen you up..." I barely heard him, and I don't think I was supposed to because he looked surprised when I said,
"You don't have to get me drunk, dude."
Ben tilted his head and looked at me with his eyebrows narrowed. "What do you mean?"
"What was the plan? You were going to get me too drunk to move and then try and cop a field?"
I expected Ben to get a little nervous, or at least embarrassed, but instead he crossed his arms across his chest and said completely deadpan, "No, nothing that creepy. It's no fun if you're not conscious. I was thinking more along the lines of getting you kind of buzzed."
"And then what?"
"I don't know. Start talking about sex, get you a little worked. Maybe jerk off together."
"Oh, that one usually works pretty good," I said. "I've used it myself a few times." The corners of Ben's mouth started to rise, threatening to break his poker face. I downed the rest of my rum and coke and winced at the burn. "What do you think about skipping the formalities?" I asked, "and just getting to the good part?"
"Fine by me."
I sat there for a moment not quite sure of how to proceed and finally just pulled my shirt over my head, momentarily blocking my view of Ben. I tossed my shirt on the floor and looked back at him. He was staring at me with obvious lust.
"God damn, Justin," he said. Your body is, like... Jesus..."
"My body is like... Jesus?"
"No, I mean... your body is like... fuck. You're cut." Ben was looking at me with glazed eyes, absentmindedly rubbing his hand over his pec.
Now that Ben had stopped pretending that he was totally unfazed and I'd stopped pretending that I knew what the fuck I was doing, it suddenly struck me what was actually happening. I could feel my heart racing. My dick was starting to twitch watching Justin toying with his nipple.
I stood up and walked over to where he was standing.
I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, THUD THUD, as I put my hands at the hem of his t-shirt. We locked eyes and then he raised his arms over his head, offering me the opportunity to undress him. I pulled the hem of his shirt up over his stomach and chest and he helped me wriggle it off his head and arms. . His skin was beautiful and smooth, completely hairless except for under his arms and the sexy little happy trail that I'd been drooling over all night. I didn't know where to start. I wanted to taste every inch of his skin. Instead I just stood there like a dumbass, unsure of what to do next but suddenly overcome with an intense need to taste his lips, to wrap my arms around him and kiss him.
I'd kissed Tom and Isaac before, but Isaac only when we were both really wasted and Tom only in the middle of fucking. I'd never kissed a guy in a romantic way before. And here I was standing in front of Ben, so close I could feel his body heat, perhaps not quite drunk enough as I worked up the courage to do just that. He was standing almost motionless, obviously waiting for me to make the first move.
Finally I just closed my eyes and leaned in.
Kissing Ben wasn't like kissing Tom or Isaac, probably because I was more nervous about pleasing Ben and I cared more about what he thought about me. But he certainly wasn't like kissing a girl. He was almost exactly my height, around 6 feet, and of a similar build. There was nothing soft or feminine about him. And yet... I don't know how to explain it exactly, because there wasn't anything he said or did that I can pinpoint, but somehow he let me know that I was in complete control.
I wrapped my arms around him and he wrapped his arms around me and then somehow we were pushed against a wall making out like our lives depended on it. My cock was starting to feel a little trapped and uncomfortable in my jeans and I couldn't imagine what it must have felt like for Ben in his tight pants. I reached my right hand down between us to grope at his crotch, and sure enough he was hard as a rock. Ben buckled at my touch and pulled away from my mouth long enough to groan,
"Oh... fuck."
I continued to feel him up and kiss him until he grabbed the hand that was groping his dick and led me out of the kitchen through a hallway and opened the door to his bedroom. The walls were painted dark blue and covered with posters and photographs. His room was a little messy but not too bad and there was a double bed in the corner with gray sheets and a big blue comforter that matched the color of his walls. Ben pushed me down so that I was sitting on the edge of his bed. He unbuttoned my jeans and slid them down a little, but left my boxerbriefs on. I lifted my ass and readjusted my cock as he slid my jeans all the way off my legs. I saw him reach into his pants and adjust himself too, but he left them on as he knelt down in front of me.
Ben looked up into my eyes and then leaned forward, running his tongue slowly over my underwear, from the base to the tip of my cock. I was trembling. He looked so hot kneeling between my legs. He took his hands and lowered the waistband of my boxer briefs just below the head of my dick and started licking around it with his tongue. I felt like I was breaking out in fever, I was so hot and sweaty and my heart was beating so fast. Ben took the head between his lips and kept swirling around it with his tongue. Jesus, it was so fucking hot. I started bucking a little bit, my body taking over trying to get more stimulation.
Instead of taking me further, Ben pulled off and slid my boxer briefs all the way off. Then he knelt in front of me again and mimicked his earlier actions, licking me slowly from base to tip. I couldn't take it anymore. I reached down, grabbed Ben under his armpits, and pulled him up to my mouth, frantically pushing my tongue between his lips. Now we were lying on the bed together, side-by-side, one of my legs slung over the side of his body, making out like crazy. His rough jeans were rubbing against my naked body, so I decided it was time for them to go.
I rolled on top of him and kissed him for all I was worth, and then left sloppy kisses all the way down his chin, neck, down the center of his chest until I finally got a chance to nibble and suck on those little hairs below his belly button. Ben was breathing heavily, and for that matter, so was I.
I hooked my hands into his jeans and underwear and pulled them off together, which ended up being a little more complicated than I'd hoped. The two of us giggled a little as I struggled to get him naked.
Finally I'd accomplished the deed and I took a moment to admire his naked form. We were indeed fairly similar in build. Ben's upper body was a little less defined then mine- his chest was almost completely flat, where as I had more defined pecs and slightly bigger arms. He definitely had runners legs, long and thin and tightly muscled. Our dicks weren't completely dissimilar either. Mine was a little longer and thicker maybe, but not by much. I was just over the 7" mark, and I guessed he was just under. We were both cut.
Ben was lying on his back with knees bent a little. I was kneeling between his feet, looking down at him as he gazed back up expectantly. I put my hands on the insides of his thighs and parted them gently as I lowered my head down to his crotch.
Here's the thing- I love cock. I mean, up until this point I'd been almost exclusively emotionally and romantically attracted to girls, and I loved women's bodies, I loved having sex with them and going down on them, but I LOVED cock. Mostly, I loved sucking cock. And I was good at it, too. I loved everything about it- the taste and the smell and the texture and the look of ecstasy on a guy's face.
I loved it when a guy was passive and completely let me take control, but I also loved it when he grabbed my head and fucked my face for all he was worth.
With Tom I'd always let my inner cockwhore shine through. He had this ridiculous perfect dick that had grown to almost 8" long in the time I'd known him. After a few years practice I had finally learned to deep throat the whole thing. With the other guys I'd been with I tried to hide my inner cockwhore a little- you know, "I guess I'll do you if you'll do me." I wasn't really worried about that with Ben. In fact, I figured the better head I gave him the more likely he was to call me up looking for more. I was determined to give Ben the best blowjob he'd ever had.
I started licking around the head of his dick with my tongue, like he had done for me. Ben was squirming around a little bit, looking down at me, practically panting. Then I opened my mouth, took a deep breath, and swiftly took him to the base, which I know he wasn't expecting because he let out a huge breath of air, lifted his upper body off the bed, grabbed my head, and practically shouted,
"Motherfucker!"
I stayed down there for as long as I could, breathing through my nose, as Ben squirmed around and eventually relaxed back onto the bed. I pulled off him slowly until I only had the head in my mouth and then quickly went all the way down and pulled back up again. I could feel him twitching and leaking lots of precum in my mouth, but I wasn't ready for him to cum quite yet.
I ran my tongue around the base of his cock. Then I started licking his balls, flicking them with my tongue. Ben tried to move his hand down to his cock, but I pushed it away. He moved his hands back to my head and I used one of my hands to hold his dick against his body, being careful not too stimulate it too much. I took his balls into my mouth, first one and then the other, and started working my way down beneath them, making short, forceful licks right underneath his balls. Ben was nice and clean, but sweaty and a little salty. I was getting really turned on by the taste of his skin down where he'd been sweatiest.
Each lick was a little bit longer as I teased my way towards his hole, trying to gage his reaction. I don't particularly love rimming someone, but I don't mind it. I love having it done to me, and at the moment I wanted nothing more than to make Ben feel as good as possible. It sounded like he was holding his breath, but he started spreading his legs further apart. As I finally reached his hole, making one long lick from his crack to his sac, Ben let out a sigh. He wrapped his legs over my shoulders, which I took as a sign to continue.
I licked across Ben's asshole and then began running my tongue in circles around his tight pucker.
I was actually enjoying it more than usual. Ben had started making the most incredible sounds, alternating between high pitch breathy sighs and deep, rumbling groans. His tight bud relaxed and opened up as I massaged it with my tongue. As I pushed my tongue inside him Ben let loose a stream of obscenities.
"Oh, fuck, yeah... oh fuck, Justin, oh my God, yeah lick me out."
It was like music to my ears. Hot, raunchy, nasty music, and my dick felt hard enough to bend steel.
I ate Justin out while he bucked and thrashed and held onto my head so tight I thought he might tear my hair out.
I took my middle finger and stuck it in my mouth, coating it with saliva. I ran it around the rim of his hole and then pushed in a little, testing the resistance. My finger slipped in pretty easily. I pushed in an out a few times until I could get it all the way in to the base of my finger. I poked and nudged around until I found his prostate. I heard him take a sharp breath of air through his nose as he clamped his legs around my head. His sphincter clenched up and then relaxed a little so I spit on my index finger and slipped it in with my middle finger, massaging his prostate as I finger fucked him. Ben was rolling his head around on the bed from side to side moaning and groaning. I couldn't believe how turned on I was without barely touching myself.
Ben seemed pretty close. I licked and sucked on his balls while fucking him harder with my fingers until I felt his sac start to pull up into his body. Then I started licked my way up from the bottom of his cock. He was leaking precum like crazy, which I licked up greedily, relishing the taste. I wrapped my left hand around the base of his cock and took him all the way into my mouth, rapidly working my way up and down his dick determined to make him cum now that I'd kept him on edge for so long. Ben's thigh muscles began quivering as he tried to formulate the words to warn me he was close. I only started finger fucking him more forcefully and sucking him harder.
The first jet of cum shot down my throat and I pulled back so that the head of his cock was in my mouth. I pushed hard against his prostate. I was surprised at the amount of cum and struggled to swallow it all. I withdrew my fingers from his ass but kept his cock in my mouth through all his shudders and after shocks.
With my face still in his crotch, I looked back up at Ben, licking at the cum that had spilled out of the sides of my mouth and down my chin. He looked down at me, smiling, through heavily lidded eyelids. It was obviously it was too much effort. His eyes fell closed and his head fell back onto the bed. After a few deep breaths he looked back up at me, now kneeling between his legs.
"You look so slutty with my cum all over your face," he said in a sleepy voice. "It looks so hot I almost think I could go again."
I laughed and lay down beside him, suddenly acutely aware of my own hard on which I had been neglecting. Ben followed my eyes down to where my attention was focused. I couldn't keep my hand off myself because I was too desperate for stimulation, but I was trying my best to just hold it and not stroke, hoping I'd be able to cum in Ben's mouth, or at least by his hand instead of mine.
"Justin, has anyone ever told you that you have a great looking cock?" There was so little energy in his voice, he was practically speaking in a monotone.
"Actually, yeah, but thanks."
Ben chuckled. "I really want to reciprocate but you're gonna have to wait a second for me to recover. That was one of the most intense orgasms I've ever had. I'm not sure I can move just yet."
"It's ok," I said, even though I felt like my dick was about to break off.
"You know," he said after what was probably seconds but felt like hours as I struggled to keep myself from tipping over the edge, "just because I don't think I can move doesn't mean you can't."
"I'm warning you it probably won't take more than a second or two. I'm pretty close."
"Straddle my face looking away from me like we were going to 69."
I complied, perhaps a bit too eagerly, but then I felt his hot tongue running along my circumcision scar and my eyes rolled back into my head. I looked down at his spent cock, shiny from my saliva and his juices. Amazingly, he was almost half hard again. Ben gripped me at the base of my cock with one hand and used the other to grab my ass and urge me down between his lips. As I felt my length being enveloped in his hot, wet mouth I heard myself make a strangled gurgling noise, almost as if it had come from someone else.
I tried to hold back, I really did, but my body had a will of my own and my hips started thrusting even as I tried to tell them to hold still. Ben's mouth felt amazing, almost as much a revelation as the first blowjob I'd ever had. I buried my head in his crotch sniffing at the pungent smells and licking at what was left of his orgasms. My first shot erupted out of me so quickly I didn't have time to warn Ben. My vision went black and I just came and came and came, completely lost in the sensation.
We were laying in bed lazily running our fingers over each others' skin and through each other's hair. Ben looked up at me.
"You know, Justin," he said, "I kind of wish you were on the crew team this spring."
"For God's sake, why?"
"I bet you look absolutely adorable in that little spandex thingy you guys wear."
"Fuck you. I obviously look threatening and manly in my crew uniform."
Ben chuckled. "Obviously."
We lay there for a while longer, just enjoying each other's company. Then Ben asked me what my friends would think if they knew what I was doing this weekend.
"John does know," I said. Ben looked more than a little surprised. "I told him I was staying at your house tonight and explained my devious plan to seduce you."
"Oh I see. You planned this all along."
"Damn right I did. Luckily, you did half the work." I loved the smile that spread across his face in response. We grinned at each other, and then I leaned over and slid my tongue between his lips. Kissing Ben was like nothing else... it was like it was stoking this fire in the pit of my stomach. I could get lost in there, which thrilled and terrified me. We pulled apart, and I nuzzled against his chest, taking in his scent.
"You know," he said, "When I first invited you over tonight I was hoping, at best, you'd let me go down on you and then pretend it never happened in the morning."
"Well, there's still time for that, if you want." Ben laughed.
"You know what I mean. I thought you were just some uptight closet bicurious jock who wouldn't even admit to himself that he couldn't stop staring at my ass."
"You caught that, huh?"
"You're not very subtle, Justin."
"Well, I may be a closet bicurious jock. But I will readily admit that I find it completely impossible to stop staring at your ass. You look so hot in those black jeans you wear. Although you look pretty good out of them too." Ben rolled on top of me so that he was straddling my waist and holding my arms above my head.
"So, jockbreath," he said, "Do I get to do this again with you sometime, or was it a one time thing?"
I leaned up and kissed him and then broke my arms free, pulling his body down against mine as I thrust my tongue into his mouth.
"First of all," I said, pulling back from our kiss, "You get to do this with me again right now." I kissed him again. "And second of all, you get to do this with me whenever you want."
The next morning I wake up and realize I'm alone in bed. I roll over onto my stomach and breath into Ben's pillow. As I start to stretch and sit up I make a mental note of the posters I see on his walls. David Bowie, Patti Smith, and of course Lou Reed are the ones I recognize. Most of the faces I don't know.
His bookshelf is huge. I get out of bed and look more closely. Most of the poets I know and have read- Rimbaud, Whitman, Ginsberg, Wallace Stevens.
I recognize a few of the other authors- Howard Zinn, Gabriel Garcia Marquez, and Thomas Pynchon. He has well-worn copies of Catch-22 and Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance. But mostly it's full of books I've never even heard of, which is surprising since I've been a passionate and voracious reader since grade school. Somehow this kind of turns me on.
I can hear him tinkering around in the kitchen. I take a piss and hop in the shower and meet Ben in the kitchen wearing only a towel. Ben's in his boxers cooking breakfast. We eat at the kitchen table, facing each other, unable to keep the grins off our faces despite the fact that we've just woken up.
As we're cleaning up I let my towel hang low off my hips, teasing him. Lower and lower, showing more of my pubes and ass until he gives it a little tug and it falls off completely. I try to grab it back from him, but not very hard, since it's really just an excuse to push him up against the sink.
I work my hands into the back of his boxers and lower them down to his thighs and then we're making out, our hands all over each other as our hard cocks rub between our bodies. We jerk each other off like that, standing up in his kitchen. I come first and then kneel down and finish him off with my mouth.
It's raining outside and Ben asks if I want to go see a movie with him. There's a Hitchcock film playing at the Academy of Music. We drive downtown in his car and smoke a joint underneath the bridge near the parking lot.
We sit in the back row. Ben's hand is on the armrest, and I keep looking at it. I put my hand on the armrest next to his and we kind of nudge our pinky fingers against each other. I push my pinky finger up over his and kind of slide my hand over his, my palm against the back of his hand, my thumb rubbing the side of his hand, his thumb rubbing my pinky finger.
I've never held hands with another dude before. It's surprisingly sexy. His fingers are angular like the bones in his face- all of him is kind of the same, slender and angular but elegant and masculine all together. The touch of his hand distracts me from the movie, until all I'm thinking about is his skin. I look over at him; he's still concentrating on the screen. I stare at the place where his jaw meets his neck, and up to his ear. His buzz cut is growing out now so it's short and a little spiky. I can't tell if it actually looks sexier like this or if I just notice more how sexy he is now. I want to smell him, smell his hair, smell his skin.
Before I realize it my nose is at the crook of his neck. I nuzzle into his neck, back behind his ear, enjoying the feel of his skin against my nose and lips and cheeks. I'm not sniffing or kissing him, just being close to him, reveling in the fact that he's letting me be this close to him, that he probably wants it, maybe even more than I do. He nuzzles back, rubbing his cheek and neck against my nose and lips. I kiss the crook of his jaw, up to his ear, take his earlobe, earring and all, between my lips. I am intoxicated.
Ben turns his head, and we look into each other's eyes. He's so... intense. More intense than anyone I've ever met. He closes his eyes, so I close mine, but I can still sense exactly where he is, our faces are so close to each other. He takes my lower lip between his teeth, licks it, bites, and then I grab his head and take control, I want him so bad, so I kiss him passionately, thrust my tongue into his mouth. He's kissing me back, kissing me like I've never been kissed before. All the passion and immediacy of being kissed by a boy, but with this subtle submission like a girl, and that's the moment I realize exactly what drives me so crazy about him, besides who he is and his lithe body and his gorgeous face and his cock, and the way I know he wants me- what drives me crazy is the way he can be aggressive and submissive at the same time.
First we're nipping and nibbling at each other, and then we're full blown making out, but the armrest is cramping our style, and we can't really take it to it's conclusion in a theater full of nice Northampton lesbians, so we kind of simultaneously slow down, one last kiss, okay one more, and then we look at each other and he smiles at me, a little out of breath, and I'm on cloud nine, can't wipe the grin off my face or the lust out of my eyes, and he smirks at me, that sexy "I know you wanna fuck me" smirk, the one that gets me hard in two seconds. I turn back to look at the screen, and then we're holding hands again, rubbing our thumbs and fingers all over each other, I still can't believe how sexy that is, just holding his hand in the movie theater. I'm looking at the screen, but I can't concentrate because all I'm thinking about is climbing over the armrest, straddling him, kissing him, consuming him, dropping down to the floor and taking his cock into my mouth.
I'm telling him this with my fingertips, and he's telling me what he wants to do to me. I don't know why we bother to stay until the end of the movie. Doesn't make sense, in retrospect, but maybe it's just out of force of habit. I've never walked of a movie before. But the second the credits start rolling, he grabs my hand and tugs me outside. Being up and moving and then the blast of cool, fresh air that hits us as we leave the theater cuts the immediacy of my desire. But I still let him walk a little bit in front of me so I can watch his ass in his tight black jeans as we walk back to his car.
Who knows what will happen on Monday? Do I even care? Today is Sunday. No matter what happens in the future today was our day. And there are still hours before his mom gets home.
I'm a first-time writer (without an editor), so I'd love any feedback, even (maybe especially) any constructive criticism. This is fiction. samwriter6@hotmail.com