The first thing you need to know is that I was already really horny that morning. It explains why things happened the way they did. My dick was so hard when I pulled up to the house I had to wait in my truck until it went down. My friend Elana cancelled the night before. We hook up and hang out sometimes, that’s all. But I hadn’t seen her in a while and I hadn’t even jacked off in like five days.
Sorry. I’m getting ahead of myself.
My name is Adam. I guess that’s obvious. I’m nineteen years old, six-foot-one and a hundred fifty-nine pounds. It’s hard for me to put on weight, muscle especially. I mention all that because people seem to want to know the numbers.
My dad is half Black, half Polish. Mom is all Korean. I look like a lot of guys. Whatever you’re imagining I look like, you’re probably pretty close.
Okay, you’re wondering why I was at this house in my truck waiting for my dick to go soft. I work part time for a pest control company, spray for bugs, set bait boxes for rodents, that sort of thing. My first stop was a new customer, Peter Clarke. Big house. I think it was a Tuesday or Wednesday morning. That part doesn’t matter.
Mr. Clarke answered the door in gym shorts, no shirt. He was in his forties, muscular. I noticed that because, like I said, I have a hard time putting on muscle. It’s not that I’m into guys. But, I envy guys with muscles, if that makes sense.
So I went in and I noticed this room off the entryway, an office. And right there, in the middle of the office, I saw this guy in a chair. He was naked and rock hard.
Mr. Clarke said something like “Is that okay?”
I didn’t know how to answer. “Is what okay?” I fumbled. “Yeah, no worries.”
The guy in the chair chuckled. I glanced back over. He was wearing a blindfold.
“I’ll let your get your work done.” Mr. Clarke said to me and turned back toward the office. “We won’t be too long.”
I said “yes sir,” because that’s how I talk to customers.
By the time I finished the first floor, I could hear the guy in the chair moaning. The stairs to the second floor were in the entryway and I had to pass the office again. I know what you’re thinking and yes; I looked. Mr. Clarke was giving the guy a blowjob. And yeah, it turned me on. No, I’m not gay. But it was like porn, live porn. And I already told you I was horny.
I went upstairs as quietly as I could, sprayed all the rooms. I heard the guy cum. There was some laughter. They talked. Then the front door opened and closed.
“Busy day today?” Mr. Clarke asked when I came back down.
I said, “not too bad.” I only had three customers that day.
“Want some water or something?” He nodded with his chin toward where the guy had been sitting. “Take a turn in the chair?”
“Um, what do you mean?” I knew what he meant. “Water, yeah, that would be good.”
Mr. Clarke laughed and put his hand on my shoulder. “What do I mean? That’s funny.” He massaged my neck a little.
“I, um, I’m sorry about that. I didn’t mean to….”
He interrupted. “It’s okay.” Mr. Clarke stepped away, rested his hand on the chair. “How about this? I’ll go get you your water. If you’re sitting here when I get back, then I’ll….” He smiled. “Well, then you’ll be next. Sound good?”
“Um,” I shook my head, smiled and made a noise that was kind of like a laugh. “Yeah, okay.”
You didn’t know this, but I let a guy suck me once. We were both fourteen. He kept gagging on it, so he gave me a hand job. Elana sucks my dick, too. I don’t know if she likes it. It’s foreplay. I’d never cum from just getting head. I didn’t know if I could.
Mr. Clarke was still smiling. He looked right at my crotch because, yeah; I was getting hard. He gestured to an ottoman pushed against the wall. “You can set your clothes over there, in case you decide…” He paused and looked me over again. “I’ll get you your water.” He left me standing there alone.
You already know I didn’t leave. I thought about it. What if it was a trick? I’d seen him with the other guy. It wasn’t a trick. What if he told someone? That made no sense. Who would he tell? And who cares? I was horny.
I took my boots off, stripped down, and sat in the chair. Don’t act surprised. You knew I was going to.
When Mr. Clarke came back, he didn’t say anything. He handed me a bottle of water. I set it on the floor. He knelt on a small pillow and moved my knees apart. I leaned back. He rested my balls in his open palm. I flinched. My cock throbbed.
He licked a bead of pre-cum from the head. It throbbed again. He kissed my scrotum. His lips were soft, wet. He traced his tongue around and under my testicles. Another droplet of pre-cum trickled down my shaft. He met it, followed its path up to the slit, and rested his lips on the tip of my dick.
You’ve heard the staying about gay guys sucking better because they know what feels good. I didn’t believe it, too cliché. But I also didn’t know what to expect or if I’d even cum. Then, he opened his mouth, took me right past his tongue and into his throat. I’m not that big. Don’t get me wrong. But, when he took me all the way, all at once, I gasped. My balls lifted off his hand.
He sucked hardest on the way up, pulling like a vacuum. And every time he went back down, he pressed me deep into his throat. His nosed brushed against my pubes. He was slow, rhythmic, down and up, and down and up.
I felt a stirring low in my abdomen. No, it was deeper than that.
He didn’t use his hands. He caressed my cock with his lips, massaged with his tongue, gripped it with his throat. I know what you’re thinking. It wasn’t like a pussy. It was something else, intimate, intense in a different way. Giving. Taking.
I hung my arms open wide, my legs open wide. My head lolled. My eyes cast about the room, shelves, paintings, a desk, a window, the door I’d walked through. I was going to cum. It had been building from the time he started. The point of no return was the very beginning. I looked down at him, veins bulging from his neck, my cock tugging with the lift of his head, disappearing when it dropped once more.
He never stopped, never changed the pattern or the pace. That stirring, low. It was like that feeling you get when you’re excited. Butterflies. A swarm of them spreading upwards from somewhere low, somewhere deep. My abs clenched at the feeling. My legs trembled.
“I’m going to cum.” It sounded like someone else saying it, but it was me.
My whole body shivered and went numb. Every feeling all at once was my cock. I made a noise, word, or a phrase from before words. A calling to my past self, the one upstairs who was still listening.
“I’m close.” I whispered.
He slowed, opened himself wider, took me deeper. A slick of pre-cum and spit ran over my balls. The feel was softer, no less sensual. He took me to the edge carefully and let me hang there. My dick swelled, ached.
I lifted my pelvis, offering my cock, my body pleading for release.
He paused.
It was like I was on that first hill of a roller coaster. You know the feeling. He started again, faster, just as deep. He held my ass and pulled me into him, twisting his head, frenzied. That roller coaster feeling, it was like the chair dropped from under me, like I went weightless. A cool rush hit me, like electricity down my arms and legs, adrenalin.
“Fuck.” Cum shot out with the word. “Fuck.” He swallowed even while more gushed out. “Fuck.” I closed my eyes and said it louder. How many times? I don’t know.
He kept me in his mouth until I relaxed, lightly sucking the last drops of cum.
Mr. Clarke smiled and stood. He gave me a gray business card with his number on it. “You’re welcome anytime.”
I got dressed and thanked him. No, it wasn’t awkward.
And no, you don’t have to ask. I went back. I was welcome anytime, every time, many times.
Carrick Moore writes gay fiction and erotica. His first book, Normal Boys MM gay erotic, is available on Amazon.