Quentin moaned helplessly. He hung in Chet’s strong grip as his lover held his arms above his head with only one of his big hands. He had pinned Quentin to the bed(with his full permission, of course) and was crouched over him with Quentin’s legs over his shoulders as he pumped steadily into his boyfriend’s writhing body. He held himself up with one hand while the other one kept Quentin pinned. His eyes were narrowed and his lips were lifted in a faint snarl as he fucked Quentin relentlessly.
He felt amazing. Being rendered helpless like this really got his engine revving. Maybe because he was never ordinarily helpless, because here he was giving up his control completely to Chet - whatever the case, Quentin arched his back and lifted his hips for each pounding thrust, thoroughly enjoying himself. He was being taken, overpowered…and he loved it! “Fuck me, big man!” he screamed. “Harder!”
Chet complied. He growled in a low voice, and his hips picked up their pace. He slammed into Quentin’s quivering body, driving deep. At the same time, he swooped down and began to bite and worry the skin at the side of his neck. Quentin cried out hoarsely as teeth closed on him, not quite hard enough to break the skin. The little pain, along with the ravaging pleasure,, was too much for him. He spasmed and began to come, making choked sounds in his throat as he painted Chet’s chest white with his semen.
At almost the same time, he felt the cock inside of him jerk and twitch as Chet rasped out a low: “Fuck!” and pushed hard into Quentin one last time before shuddering to a halt. They both panted heavily for a moment, savoring the aftershocks.
Then Quentin remarked hoarsely: “That was fabulous, big man. But I think I’m done now. Besides, I’ve got to get home. I promised my friend Gary that I’d hang out with him tonight.”
Chet frowned darkly. He sat up slowly, pulling out of Quentin. He turned away to remove the used condom, his shoulders stiff. Quentin sighed and sat up, moving a little carefully. He set his hands on his boyfriend’s back, running them caressingly down over the smooth upper part and then just as tenderly over the tangled mass of scars further down. “Chet,” he said soothingly, “I know you’re jealous of Gary. Can you tell me why?”
Silence. Then: “I guess its because I’m your boyfriend, but HE’S your friend. I don’t want you to be closer to anyone else than you are to me.”
Quentin’s lips trembled on a smile. He laid his face against Chet’s back and rubbed his cheek against the skin. “Oh, big man, I’m not any closer to Gary or Corey than I am to you, I promise. Because I don’t know about you, but I think of my boyfriend as being my best friend in the whole world. Not just my lover, but definitely my bff.”
Chet’s face turned toward him, presenting Quentin with his profile. “So we’re friends?” he questioned, sounding a little mistrustful.
Quentin sighed silently, but he understood. It wasn’t a surprise that Chet was wary. He leaned forward to kiss his boyfriend’s cheek. “Yes,” he replied firmly. “And if you want me to, I’ll call Gary and reschedule. Then we can hang out together tonight instead. I’d love to spend more time with you, even if we’re not having sex.”
Chet considered this, and Quentin felt the muscles under his hands relax. “No, that’s okay,” Chet said quietly. “We can hang out together later.”
Quentin smiled lovingly, kissing the shoulder nearest to him. “Thanks, big man, you rock. You know, if you’d like you can come to my house for dinner sometime this week. My mom is a great cook, and I’d really like my parents to meet my boyfriend. If that’s okay with you?”
Chet looked surprised. “You want…your parents to meet me?”
Quentin nodded, stroking his cheek and mouth with his fingertips. “Absolutely. Will you come? Maybe the day after tomorrow, to give mom some warning so that she can cook a big dinner?”
“All right,” Chet said slowly after a moment.
Quentin hugged him from behind, beaming. “That’s awesome! Thank you, Chet. Do you mind if I use your shower to get cleaned up real quick before I go?”
“No, I don’t mind,” Chet said.
Quentin slipped off the bed and started to pad toward the bathroom. But then he stopped and looked over his shoulder, giving his boyfriend a sultry look. “Do you want to come in with me?” he purred.
Chet’s eyes ran over his bare back and ass. He stood up slowly. ’No, I don’t mind that either,” he growled.
Quentin was in such a good mood when he bounced through the front door of his house that his feet were barely touching the ground. He wished that he knew how to whistle; it would definitely be appropriate for his mood right now. He stopped in the doorway of the kitchen, seeing his mother busy with the stove. “Hey, Mom?” he said, making her straighten up.
“Oh, Quen, there you are,” she said in greeting. “Your little friend Gary is in your room. I told him he could wait for you there.”
“Thanks, Mom. Sorry I’m a bit late, but I was busy…” he paused, then went on, “With my new boyfriend!”
His mother looked surprised. “You have a boyfriend, Quen? I mean, a real boyfriend?” she asked.
He nodded, grinning. “I know. Crazy, huh? His name is Chet, and I was hoping that he could come over for dinner the day after tomorrow and meet you and Dad. I really want you guys to get to know each other. I think he really needs some mothering; his mom is a drunk and his dad is in jail for killing somebody. I’m pretty sure that he’s had a rotten childhood, unlike me. Pretty please, dear mother of mine?” he begged.
She smiled, shaking her head. “Of course, Quen. I’d love to meet the person special enough to be your boyfriend. And it does sound like he could use some mothering, the poor boy. I’ll think about what I should make,” she added. “And the cookies for you and Gary will be done in a bit, too.”
He flew forward to hug her. “Thanks, Mom!” he cried happily. “You’re the best. But whatever you make, make lots of it. Chet’s a football player, and he’s built like a Sherman tank. He needs lots of nourishment.”
“A football player, huh? I see you’re just like me,” his mom said, smiling at him.
Quentin grinned at her. His father had played football in high school and college, before he’d hurt his knee and had decided to get a business degree. “Yeah, you rubbed off on me,” he teased. “Anyway, I’ll go talk to Gary now,” he waved at her and hurried out of the kitchen, heading for his bedroom.
His mother only smiled and turned back to her cookie’s, already planning a menu for the big dinner where she and her husband would get to meet Quentin’s boyfriend. She wanted it to be very special, because her butterfly of a son had never had a real boyfriend before this. She knew that he’d been having sex, of course; and since they’d taught him to be careful and to always have protected sex she didn’t worry about that. He was still a teenager, after all. Teenage boys were hormonal and always on the lookout to get laid. But she was incredibly pleased that Quentin had fallen for someone - she was shrewd enough to know that her son would never have a serious relationship with someone that he didn’t love. She couldn’t wait to meet this Chet boy. He had to be very special indeed, to have captured her son’s heart.
Quentin walked into his room, seeing Gary sitting on his bed with a text book open on his lap. Apparently he’d been getting some homework done while he’d waited for Quentin to arrive. But he looked up at his friend when he appeared in the doorway, and closed the book. “Hi, Quen,” he said.
“Hey, Gary. Sorry I’m late, I kinda got hung up with something,” Quentin said, his eyes twinkling.
“Oh, that’s okay. I just worked on my Algebra while I waited.”
Quentin grimaced. “Better you than me,” he said. Math and him had never seen eye-to-eye. He came over and sat down on the edge of the bed. “My Mom says the cookies will be done in a minute,” he went on.
Gary brightened up. He really liked the way that Quentin’s mom baked. Her homemade cookies were delicious.
“Okay. Umm…” he looked down at the bedspread, his face turning red.
Quentin patted his arm reassuringly. “Don’t be so nervous, Gary. We’ll only talk about whatever you want to talk about. You decide how much you want to know. Okay?”
Gary looked relieved. “Thanks, Quen. I’m just…this is so…”
Quentin smiled. “I know. Its really nerve-wracking when you don’t know anything about sex and you want to find stuff out. Its not like you can ask your dad for help with this, either,” he said with a rueful shrug. “My poor dad practically had a heart attack when he tried to give me the sex talk. He had no idea what to say. It was actually kind of funny, though I felt bad for him. Just consider me your mentor, all right? Ask me anything that you want to, and I’ll answer if I can.”
Gary nodded, his fingers spasming on the textbook in his lap. “I…was wondering about…blow jobs,” he said the last two words quickly, trying to just get them out. He flushed scarlet, his eyes everywhere but on Quentin’s face.
“That makes sense,” Quentin replied in as calm and soothing a voice as he could manage. “You guys have touched each other and kissed, but you haven’t gotten as far as oral sex yet. Am I right?”
Gary nodded, his eyes flashing to Quentin’s face briefly before they darted away again. “This is where that banana will come in handy,” Quentin remarked, getting to his feet. “I’ll be right back, and I’ll bring the cookies too so my mom won’t walk in on us talking about this.”
Gary felt acute relief as his friend darted out into the hallway. The horrifying thought of Quentin’s mom walking in on them while Quentin was giving him sex advice…it didn’t even bear thinking about. He shuddered at even the thought of it. He’d never be able to show his face over here again…
In no time at all, Quentin skimmed back through the door with a plate of cookies, two sodas, and a banana in his hands. He used his foot to close the door behind him before setting the cookies down on his desk. He plopped down on the bed next to Gary, smiling at his poor, flustered friend. “All right,” he said in a non-nonsense tone of voice, “Let the sex talk begin!”
“Okay,” Quentin began, holding up the banana. “You want to know about blow jobs.” he began to peel the piece of fruit slowly.
Gary gulped, his fingers moving nervously in his lap. He wasn’t sure that he really wanted to have this talk now, but there was no going back…Quentin smiled at him as though he could read Gary’s thoughts. “Don’t worry,” he said reassuringly. “This won’t hurt a bit.”
Gary didn’t know what to say to this. But Quentin lifted the banana to his mouth. “The first thing you want to do is lick the tip,” he told Gary. “The skin is very sensitive, and it feels really nice,” he laved the rounded point of the banana with his pink tongue lovingly. “Guys love it,” he added.
He blinked. “Does it…what does it…taste like?” he asked, his voice cracking a little.
“Pretty much like skin,” Quentin told him. “Its kind of like sucking on your finger, except a bit slicker and smoother. Its not nasty, I swear.”
He relaxed a bit at that. He’d rather worried that tasting a penis would be icky. Seeing his expression, Quentin fought back a giggle. Gary was just totally cute. “Anyway, you can swirl your tongue around the tip, then lick down the shaft,” he demonstrated on the banana once again. “You can use your hand at the same time - hold the base and maybe stroke up and down with your hand to meet your tongue.”
Gary was fascinated by now. Quentin was speaking in a matter-of-fact tone of voice, and his demonstrations were just short of clinical. It made him feel better and less embarrassed about the whole thing. “Now when you decide to actually take it into your mouth, you have to be really careful of your teeth. Nobody wants to have their penis scraped. Like this,” he ran the banana between his teeth, peeling two long curling pieces off of both sides of it. Gary winced.
Quentin nodded at the look on his face. “Definitely not good. So you want to roll your lips down over your teeth. Like this,” he demonstrated, and Gary copied him tentatively. Quentin nodded. “Good. That’s right. Now put it in your mouth,” he carefully inserted the banana between his lips and began to move it in and out just a bit. When he pulled it out so that he could speak, he went on: “Don’t try to take it too deep at first. You have to get used to it, and besides if you set off your gag reflex that is never pretty. You could end up throwing up all over Patrick, something that’s bound to kill the mood.”
Gay grimaced at his words. The image of himself throwing up all over his boyfriend’s cock was definitely not a pretty one. Talk about being embarrassed! “In fact,” Quentin noted, “What you can do rather than trying to take it into your throat at first is kind of turn your head like this,” he twisted his head a bit, “And let it slide against your cheek,” he inserted the banana back into his mouth and showed Gary how it pushed out his cheek a bit at that angle, instead of going straight in.
“That feels almost as good, and it helps people who have shallow pallets or a high gag reflex,” Quentin explained. “You could have Patrick move his hips and push himself into your mouth once you’ve got a good angle. He’ll like that, and it means that you have to do less work. Also, you can flatten your tongue and kind of cup the bottom as he moves in and out, and he’ll like that even more.”
“What about actually blowing?” Gary asked.
Quentin chuckled. “There really isn’t a lot of blowing involved in a blow job,” he explained. “Way more sucking than blowing. You can purse your lips around him and kind of hollow your cheeks as you bob your head. Then you suck. You can stroke half of the shaft with your hand so that you don’t take in as much and choke. And you can use your hands at the same time, to touch his balls or stroke his thighs or whatever you feel like doing. And that’s the basics of a blow job, except for swallowing versus spitting.”
“Swallowing? You mean…?”
Quentin nodded. “His cum. Some people don’t like to swallow it, but guys love it when you do. And it doesn’t taste bad, plus its good for you. Lots of tasty protein. Just ask him to tell you when he’s coming so you can draw your head back. Otherwise you can choke on it. Don’t pull it all the way out, just enough that he came come on your tongue and not in the back of your throat. Then you can decide whether you want to swallow it or spit it out.”
Gary found that he wasn’t feeling embarrassed any more. He felt better about the whole thing, because the way that Quentin had explained it had been simple and easy to understand. He almost felt confident enough to try it himself. He looked into the smiling blue eyes of his friend. “Thanks, Quen,” he said fervently. “I wouldn’t have known who else to talk with about this. I mean, there’s nobody except for Patrick, and I don’t think that he knows much either.”
Quentin nodded. “yeah, and it can be awkward and even really painful when two guys try this stuff with no idea what they’re doing,” he said. “Its bad enough that its your first sexual experience; its way worse when you feel like an know-nothing idiot on top of that. Now that we’re done with that, though, let’s have some cookies and listen to music. But just remember - any time you have any questions about anything you know you can always come to me. I’ll be happy to help with anything at all.”
Gary smiled at him. “I know that,” he replied gratefully. “You’re the best, Quen.”
Quentin set a hand on his chest and put on a modest expression. “Well, maybe not the best…but I’d say I’m in the top ten,” he said with a wink.
Gary giggled. He felt really good right now. Maybe he wouldn’t use the information that Quentin had given him right away, but that was all right. Patrick and he were taking it slow anyway. But someday soon he might just surprise his boyfriend with something completely unexpected but very, very nice…
Quentin came into the kitchen with the empty plate after seeing Gary to the door. He took it over to the sink to wash it as his mother greeted him. “So what did you guys do?” she asked.
Quentin paused as he considered actually telling her what he and Gary had done, and his lips twitched. “Oh, we just talked and listened to music. Oh, and devoured all of your amazing cookies,” he added, holding up the empty plate for her inspection. “Betty Crocker has nothing on you, Ma.”
She smiled. “I’m glad that you guys liked them. Oh, dinner will be ready in half an hour. Will you go and get your father? Roust him out of his study. He’s busy with some paperwork, but a man can’t be ALL work and no play.”
Quentin giggled. “Well, there’s an easy way to take his mind off of it,” he told her with a jaunty wink as he started to leave the kitchen.
She snorted. “You’re a naughty boy, Quen. I think we raised you wrong,” she teased as he exited stage left.
“Very wrong!” he called, then went down the hallway chuckling at the laughter he heard behind him.
Reaching the door of his father’s study, Quentin knocked at it lightly. “Come in,” a voice called, and he pushed the door open to reveal his father sitting behind the antique mahogany desk that his mother had bought at an antiques auction a few years ago. A dark-brown head lifted, and blue eyes the same color as his flashed a question at Quentin.
"Mom says that dinner’s almost served,” Quentin told his parent. “And that you have to stop working or she’s going to find ways to distract you. I suggested a slinky outfit and a batch of her homemade cookies…”
His father laughed, shaking his head as he set the document he’d been perusing down on the desk top. “Sounds good to me,” he said. “As I remember, that’s how we made you.” he teased as he stood up.
Quentin grinned up at him(his father was a good three inches taller than him at six feet even). “But why, oh why, did you never employ that magic again and give me a sibling? ’he lamented, putting a hand to his head in mock-grief.
“Well, something told us that you’d be a big enough handful without adding to our problems,” his dad told him cheerfully.
Quentin set a hand on his hip and sniffed. “Really, Father mine. What an awful thing to say about your only offspring.”
An easy laugh. “Sorry, Quen, but I believe in speaking the truth. If it makes you feel any better, you’re the most delightful handful that any father has ever been saddled with.” he said as he patted his son’s arm.
Quentin sighed tragically. “I see how you are,” he huffed.
He found himself swept up into a tight hug. “You know that we don’t need anybody but you, Quen,” his dad said into his blue hair. “You’re so special that we thought we’d better quit while we were so far ahead.”
He felt tears prickling at the backs of his eyes. “Thanks, Dad,” he sniffled, wiping at them carefully so as not to smear his eyeliner. “And you guys are the best parents that a somewhat screwed up gay teenager could ever ask for. You never questioned any of the weird things that I wanted to do, even though I knew that you guys were sometimes kind of thrown by my requests.”
His father ruffled his hair. “Ah, you were only changing yourself on the outside to fit the inside,” He said shrewdly as they left his study together.
“Yes, well, thanks for not being apprehensive about that fact,” Quentin remarked dryly. “Oh, by the way - did Mom tell you that I’m bringing my new boyfriend over for dinner in a couple of days?”
“Yes, she happened to mention it. She’s obviously very psyched - when I came home she was making lists. You know she only does that when she thinks that its something important. As for me, I can’t wait to meet this guy. He must be something else to have bagged my son. I was told that he’s a football player. That so?”
Quentin nodded. “A huge, hulking quarterback. He looks great in the uniform,” he added with a comical leer.
His father laughed. “Well, at least we’ll have something to talk about. And if he’s as big as you say he is, I can’t threaten him if he doesn’t treat you right.”
Quentin began to laugh helplessly. “Now that I’d like to see,” he chuckled when he could speak again. “Although maybe not, since Chet’s dad was abusive. He used to beat him. Maybe threatening him, even if you were joking, wouldn’t be the best way to go,” he went on soberly.
His father also looked more somber at his words. “That’s terrible. I hate people who abuse their kids. Maybe I should have a talk with him instead?” his voice was cold now.
Quentin shook his head. “No need. His father is in jail for killing somebody.”
“Jesus. Well, all I can say is that that’s probably for the best. If you’re going to keep going out with this guy, its better that I never have to meet up with a bastard who’d beat on his own son. I probably wouldn’t be able to control myself.”
Quentin touched his arm. “That’s because you’re such a good dad yourself,” he told his parent. “And I’d love it if you would spread a little of that around on Chet. He could use it.”
“I’ll try my best,” his father promised him.
Go to Part 10