Maybe it was the party, maybe it was the trash-can
punch, who knows, maybe I had just finally truly come
to grips with my sexuality, but that night with Wayne
will always seem fresh in my mind. I remember it almost
everyday, bringing up every detail and refreshing it in
my mind, so that it seems like it was only last night
that I found myself wandering into the small, darkened
bedroom in the depths of the frat house.
I didn’t see him there at first, the bright lights of
the front room still sparkling in my blurred eyes. But
as my vision adjusted, I realized that there was
someone laying sideways across the bed.
“Oh,” I said, “I didn’t realize there was someone in
here. I’ll go,” and I started to leave.
Whoever was on the bed raised his head and said,
“Robin? Is that you?” I recognized the voice as
Wayne’s. I paused for a moment, then turned back into
the room.
“It’s me,” I said.
“You don’t have to leave,” he said, propping himself up
onto his elbows. There was something in his voice that
said while I might be company, anyone extra would be a
crowd. So I closed the door behind me as I moved over
to sit down by him on the bed.
He laid back down, and for a few minutes neither of us
said anything. I trembled, physically and mentally, at
the intimacy of the moment. My slightly blurry brain
searched for something to say. I wasn’t used to
starting conversations. More importantly, I wasn’t used
to being the aggressor and that was what I suddenly
felt the desire to be now.
I stared at Wayne’s body stretched out before me. He
was tall, and thin, with the long lanky limbs that I
loved– I love. He wore his usual outfit of faded,
almost-tight blue jeans and a subdued Polo shirt,
tucked in at the waste. His arms were up, folding under
his head to support it, and that emphasized the
leanness of his body. I could see him breathing.
I suddenly caught my reverie and in desperation to
break it before I did something foolish, I said the
first thing that came into my mind, “Some party, huh?”
And immediately regretted it. How stupid!
But I guess it was the right thing, because it started
him talking. “Yeah, it was. Until Lisa dragged me back
here.”
I thought about prompting him, but remembering that my
tongue has a tendency for stupidity when I’ve been
drinking, I waited out an expiation.
“She thinks we should see other people,” he said,
bitterly, “She thinks that we should ‘be friends’!” His
voice took on a harshly mocking tone, and he slammed
his arm down beside him onto the bed.
“Oh,” I said, still fumbling for words, “that’s…
awful.” Another brilliant insight. I screamed out
inside at my inability to do anything right. And then,
almost without thinking I reached out and took his
hand. What could have possibly made me do that?
But much to my shock, he reached down with his other
hand and pressed mine inside both of his.
I don’t know about other people, but I always find it
amazing when anyone shows an interest in me. I just
don’t expect people to find me interesting or
attractive. And so I sat there for who knows how long
just enjoying our holding hands, not doing anything for
fear that it would change the moment that it would
break the feeling and force it to end. I wanted it to
last forever.
But it finally ended as he pulled me down to lay beside
him on the bed. He hesitantly moved one of his hands up
to stroke my hair, and looked at me with his dark brown
eyes, which looked like endlessly deep pools of
blackest ebony in the dim light of the unlit room, and
said, “I don’t want to be alone right now.”
I knew he was using me. I knew that he was just hurting
from Lisa’s rejection that he was reaching out to the
first warm body he found, but I didn’t care. I had
watched him from a distance for so long now, had been
so positive that he didn’t feel anything towards me–
at least nothing like what I felt for him– that I was
willing to let him use me, for one night of delusion.
For one night to be able to believe that he was
attracted to me, that he wanted me, that our
attractions were shared, I would do almost anything.
And I realized then, that if I was going to make this
night worth a whole lifetime, I would have to do the
‘almost anything’. I would have to do what I had never
done before, I would have to go out to the limits of
what I could give, I would have to give him more than I
had ever given anyone else. I would have to not just
let him take what he wanted, I was going to have to be
active, I was going to have to *do*, not merely
*allow*.
“You’re not alone,” I said, taking the hand he ran
through my hair into mine, and putting it down beside
him. “Relax,” I explained, “Just lay there. Let me…
let me love you.”
His eyes searched mine for a moment; he almost seemed
ready to refuse me, but then his lids dropped down over
his eyes and he laid his head back onto the bed, saying
not a word.
I moved down on the bed until I was at the level of his
belt. Slowly, I reached out and press my hand against
the rise in his jeans just below the buckle. It was
warm. He was warm. I slid my hand down the rise and
then down his far thigh. I was hard, and felt good
under the denim of his jeans. I pulled my hand back and
stopped for a moment. I realized that I wasn’t
breathing.
I closed my eyes and just breathed for a moment, and
tried to avoid asking myself what I was doing. No more
thought, no more questions. I had to act, not think.
Now or never.
I opened my eyes, and reached for his belt. This time I
remembered to breath, but I kept my breathing as
shallow as I could, afraid that if I didn’t my
excitement would overcome me, and I would hyper-
ventilate and pass out. Wouldn’t that be sexy?
I undid his belt and then his jeans. Slowly, I undid
all the buttons in his button-fly. As my hands work
over it, I could feel his penis beginning to get
larger, and warmer. I reached inside his jeans and
tremulously I took hold of his penis through the fabric
of his jockeys. I had wondered many times what Wayne’s
erection would be like, watching him with Lisa, and now
with it here in my hand, it felt good. As I varied my
grip and moved my hand slightly up and down, it grew
even larger, and harder.
It was getting more and more difficult to take my time
about this. I let go of him and with both hands gripped
his jeans and jerked them down, then I pulled his
jockeys down with another lack of delicacy. His penis
leapt free. I took it full in my hand, and it felt hot
enough to burn me. I leaned my face towards its end,
and the musky smell of him hit me in the face.
Intellectually I knew that I should be repulsed, but on
a deeper level I relished the smelled. I drew a deep
breath in through my nose to let the scent fill my
brain like a pull on an opium pipe, and it thrilled me.
As I began to working my hand up and down, I brought
the end up and my lips down for a gentle dry kiss on
the glans. Then I wet my lips and opening my teeth
while pursing my mouth I pushed it down over the glans.
The taste of him blasted full in my mouth, and again I
was mentally slammed by the repulsion/ecstasy
dichotomy. But now even the feeling of repulsion only
excited me more. Anything– I would do anything for
him.
I pushed him farther into my mouth. Suddenly, his penis
seemed huge, it filled my mouth to overflowing, but I
couldn’t seem to get enough of him. I began throbbing
my head, up and down, his penis sliding between my
clasped lips, and rubbing against my tongue which I
pushed greedily up against it, trying to pull even more
of his flavor from him. At the top of my strokes, I
would play over his glans with the tip of my tongue,
but as I grew more and more fevered I stopped because
my strokes were too fast to allow such details.
I also had to stop playing because his hips began to
rock with me, and I had to start shortening my strokes
for fear that he would slip outside of my mouth.
Suddenly that thought seemed like death to me. Deeper
and deeper I pushed him into my mouth, and harder and
harder I sucked, trying to get all of him into me that
I could.
Then with a sudden, spasmodic jerking, he ejaculated.
The semen was strangely cool in my mouth after the
extended burning heat of his penis. But I didn’t linger
on the thought. I swallowed quickly and then pushed him
as far into my mouth, into my throat, as I ever had so
far and started gulping passionately, trying to get
every drop of him deep into me as fast as I could. At
that moment if I could have swallowed him whole I would
have.
In a span of time that was both an eternity and an
instant, he was done and sagging back down onto the bed
from the height to which his jerking had lifted his
hips. Sadly, I let his penis slip out of my mouth, then
I lay there a moment and caught my breath.
It had been too much. My mind was a blank and my body
buzzed. There was a ringing in my ears, and my heart
was still beating so hard I was afraid that it would
surely stop and that I would have killed myself with
sex. Not a bad way to go, but I was young yet!
Slowly, thought came back to me and I moved back up the
bed to lay beside Wayne and to look into his eyes. He
turned his to look at me, and whispered, “Thank you.”
I just lay there looking into his deep, deep eyes.
Forever– this had to last forever.
He grew restless after a moment or two, perhaps
misunderstanding my silence and my glowing look, and he
tried to explain. “I, uh, I can’t… I mean, I don’t
think I can…”
“Shhhsh,” I said, “I understand. Let’s just lay here
for awhile, okay?” My hand slid idly between my legs
and rubbed against my own still hard and throbbing
penis. He didn’t have to do anything for me. Giving me
something to remember at night for the rest of my life
was more than enough.
And it doesn’t even matter that he never spoke to me
again. I had expected that.
It was only one night, but it has lasted this much of
my lifetime, at least, and I don’t expect to lose it
soon. It was special and always will be; so will he.