before were beginning to fall into place. He had let himself get picked up by a cocksucker.
He thought of the other time this had happened to him under very similar circumstances. It had been almost ten years ago when he had been a freshman at Yale. There had been a big night of drinking, and he had awakened to find a senior performing this service for him. He had screamed the place down and threatened to report the aggressor to the dean. Now he couldn’t see that it would do anybody any great harm. The mouth was marvelously knowledgeable. Hands were doing things that brought little grunts of pleasure from him. In a moment he knew it was going to happen quickly. He let out a little warning cry. The delicious ministrations of the mouth intensified, and he uttered another cry as he was shaken by his climax.
The mouth lingered on him briefly, and then he felt the boy scramble out of bed. He opened his eyes a slit to catch a glimpse of slim hips and a behind as prettily rounded as a girl’s before a robe was dropped around it and the boy left the room. He closed his eyes, and his mind drifted around the small incident. He probably shouldn’t have let it happen, but he was in no condition to put on a big injured-innocence act. He hoped it wouldn’t cause difficulties between them. He remembered liking the kid. Patrice. His name was Patrice. He had always been wary of queers because he knew he attracted them, and he had never been tempted to go that way. He tried to remember if anything had happened that should have warned him. If so, he’d been too drunk to notice it. He must have passed out.
He stretched luxuriously in the big bed and became aware that his erection had only partially subsided. He felt as if very little would get it going again. His mind slipped back toward sleep. It was jogged into consciousness again by sounds of movement in the room. He opened his eyes and saw the short slight figure wrapped in the voluminous dressing gown approaching the bed holding a steaming cup. He remembered the fetching mop of hair on Patrice’s forehead.
“There,” Patrice said, standing over him. “That should make you feel better.”
Rod lifted his arms out from under the covers and took the cup and grinned up at him. “You sure know how to take care of a guy.”
Patrice’s eyes twinkled. “Last night, you thought I was a girl. Jeannine? Lucky Jeannine.”
“Lucky me. Thanks.”
“You mean–you didn’t mind?”
“Not if you liked it. I just think you ought to know I don’t usually go in for that sort of thing.”
“Oh. I wasn’t sure. I shouldn’t have done it. I’m sorry.”
The boy looked crushed. Rod took a swallow of hot bitter coffee and tried to think of something to say to put the incident behind them. It wasn’t his fault that he wasn’t a cocksucker. “Oh, for God’s sake,” he burst out. “I don’t want to make a big thing of it. If you like it, you like it. I mean, I’m sorry I couldn’t do something nice for you.”
“I wanted nothing more. It was wonderful for me but, of course, if you didn’t want it–”
“I didn’t say that. Oh, hell.” He gulped more coffee. “Listen. This is ridiculous. We’re getting all embarrassed over nothing. I don’t have anything against queers. I just don’t happen to be one, that’s all. You wouldn’t want me to pretend it didn’t happen would you?”
“No.” The sparkle returned to Patrice’s eyes. “I think that wouldn’t be very polite.”
They both laughed. Rod finished the coffee and put the cup on the bedside table. “There. Don’t let’s worry about it anymore. What time is it?”
“A little after 9 o’clock. I will have to go to work soon.”
“Yeah. I better get out of here.” He pushed the covers aside and began the unwelcome labor of getting out of bed. As he did he felt his cock swing against his thigh. He didn’t want to flaunt himself, but he didn’t want to act self-conscious in front of the kid either.
He thought of the other time this had happened to him under very similar circumstances. It had been almost ten years ago when he had been a freshman at Yale. There had been a big night of drinking, and he had awakened to find a senior performing this service for him. He had screamed the place down and threatened to report the aggressor to the dean. Now he couldn’t see that it would do anybody any great harm. The mouth was marvelously knowledgeable. Hands were doing things that brought little grunts of pleasure from him. In a moment he knew it was going to happen quickly. He let out a little warning cry. The delicious ministrations of the mouth intensified, and he uttered another cry as he was shaken by his climax.
The mouth lingered on him briefly, and then he felt the boy scramble out of bed. He opened his eyes a slit to catch a glimpse of slim hips and a behind as prettily rounded as a girl’s before a robe was dropped around it and the boy left the room. He closed his eyes, and his mind drifted around the small incident. He probably shouldn’t have let it happen, but he was in no condition to put on a big injured-innocence act. He hoped it wouldn’t cause difficulties between them. He remembered liking the kid. Patrice. His name was Patrice. He had always been wary of queers because he knew he attracted them, and he had never been tempted to go that way. He tried to remember if anything had happened that should have warned him. If so, he’d been too drunk to notice it. He must have passed out.
He stretched luxuriously in the big bed and became aware that his erection had only partially subsided. He felt as if very little would get it going again. His mind slipped back toward sleep. It was jogged into consciousness again by sounds of movement in the room. He opened his eyes and saw the short slight figure wrapped in the voluminous dressing gown approaching the bed holding a steaming cup. He remembered the fetching mop of hair on Patrice’s forehead.
“There,” Patrice said, standing over him. “That should make you feel better.”
Rod lifted his arms out from under the covers and took the cup and grinned up at him. “You sure know how to take care of a guy.”
Patrice’s eyes twinkled. “Last night, you thought I was a girl. Jeannine? Lucky Jeannine.”
“Lucky me. Thanks.”
“You mean–you didn’t mind?”
“Not if you liked it. I just think you ought to know I don’t usually go in for that sort of thing.”
“Oh. I wasn’t sure. I shouldn’t have done it. I’m sorry.”
The boy looked crushed. Rod took a swallow of hot bitter coffee and tried to think of something to say to put the incident behind them. It wasn’t his fault that he wasn’t a cocksucker. “Oh, for God’s sake,” he burst out. “I don’t want to make a big thing of it. If you like it, you like it. I mean, I’m sorry I couldn’t do something nice for you.”
“I wanted nothing more. It was wonderful for me but, of course, if you didn’t want it–”
“I didn’t say that. Oh, hell.” He gulped more coffee. “Listen. This is ridiculous. We’re getting all embarrassed over nothing. I don’t have anything against queers. I just don’t happen to be one, that’s all. You wouldn’t want me to pretend it didn’t happen would you?”
“No.” The sparkle returned to Patrice’s eyes. “I think that wouldn’t be very polite.”
They both laughed. Rod finished the coffee and put the cup on the bedside table. “There. Don’t let’s worry about it anymore. What time is it?”
“A little after 9 o’clock. I will have to go to work soon.”
“Yeah. I better get out of here.” He pushed the covers aside and began the unwelcome labor of getting out of bed. As he did he felt his cock swing against his thigh. He didn’t want to flaunt himself, but he didn’t want to act self-conscious in front of the kid either.
Similar Books
