Jerry's Obsession

The test for sexual inclination is this: If you look at the opposite sex 95% of the time then you are straight. It's more like 100% for me, because guys don't turn me on. I have never looked at a guy on the street or anywhere else and thought: Hey, he's cute. I like girls. So what's the deal here?

Two nights ago I was online in my bedroom and in a chat room. I was also looking through the AOL newsgroups, and decided to look in one about men giving oral. I'd been in there before, but never on a school night, and not with my bedroom door unlocked. I got up and remedied that part of the situation right away. I couldn't do anything about what day it was.

I was in boxer shorts and a tee-shirt. I had not masturbated in three or four days and was horny. I had a pretty good erection already from the last newsgroup I was in. In it there had been a really cute brunette supposedly sucking her boyfriend's best friend's cock, but it never gave her name. She was definitely in her teens though, and looked like a normal girl, so maybe this guy did fuck her. Not fuck her, I mean fuck her over.

Anyway, the brunette really turned me on but so did the cock she was sucking. It was long and pink and alive looking. Now there's the problem in a nutshell. I have a disassociative obsession. I want the guy's cock without the guy.

The chat room I was in was one of the ones created by local kids so I wasn't doing anything stupid there. But I had IRC open as well, and was browsing there. When I saw a chat room named StraightguyslooktooMD, I went in.

"Hello," someone immediately IM'd me.

"Hello yourself."

"Where you from?"

"Germantwon. You?"

"Germantwon? LOL. Ijamsville. Know where that is?"

"It's north of me. Near I-70?"

"That's right," he said. "So, you gay?"

"No," I wrote back. "Bi, I think. You?"

"Commitedly straight, but with a desire for oral sex."

"Which way?" I asked.

"Receiving."

My belly felt like a nest of squirming vipers. "How old are you?" I asked.

"25. You?"

"Sure you want to ask that?"

His reply came back slower than it had before. "If you're under 18 we shouldn't be talking. You're 18, right?"

"I'm in high school," I wrote truthfully.

"What year?"

"12th."

"Plenty of 12th graders are 18."

"If you say so," I said.

When no reply seemed to be coming, I typed back: "I was teasing you. I'm 18. Want to see my license?"

"Do you have a scanner?" he wrote.

"Are you serious? I do, but I don't think I'm ready to give you my personal information yet."

He wrote back, "LOL," and I felt better. "So, have you ever done it?"

"Done what?" I asked.

"Sucked a guy's cock."

"Only in my dreams," I replied truthfully. "Have you?"

"Twice. I usually only like to be sucked, but the first couple of times left me wondering how it would be, and I had to find out."

"Did you like it?" I wrote.

"Not as much as being sucked. It was okay."

I hesitated before asking this: "Do guys usually let you come in their mouths? How many guys you been with?"

"About 50/50," he replied. "And six guys so far. All from AOL or IRC. Interested?"

I looked at my hands and they were shaking. I felt breathless and terrified. A guy I had never met and whose name I didn't even know was inviting me to suck his cock.

"What's you name?" I typed.

"Rob. What's yours?"

"Jerry."

"What school you go to Jerry?"

"Seneca Valley."

"The Screaming Eagles, huh? I went to Quince Orchard 9th and 10th, graduated from Damascus in 97. Moved to Ijamsville in 2002. Have an apartment. You live at home still?"

"Yeah," I wrote. I had calmed a little, not much. "When was the 1st time? Were you in school?"

"Hell no! You crazy LOL? Not until November 2002. Been almost 2 years."

"I'm surprised you didn't do it in college," I wrote.

"Still lived at home. Didn't move out officially until I graduated. Lived in a dorm the first 2 years so no opportunity there. Went off-campus after that but with three other guys, so no opportunity there either. Didn't consider it until I had moved to Ijamsville. Now I never look back."

I wrote hesitantly: "Where do you usually meet? In your apartment?"

"Mostly, yeah. Twice I've met them someplace else, but mostly they like the privacy of my apartment. Beats the front seat of a car, LOL."

"Or the backseat," I wrote.

He asked me again: "Are you interested, Jerry?"

"Yes," I wrote honestly. "But very scared."

"You have a right to be. My first time I was scared shitless and I didn't even do anything. In fact, I was probably more scared than he was. I was petrified I couldn't get it up. Could you imagine? Having a guy ready to give you head and not being able to get it up?"

"LOL. That would be a nightmare, wouldn't it? It didn't happen then?"

"Not yet. As soon as the guy touched me I started to grow. I got hard as a rock in his hand. He stroked me for about two minutes and then began to kiss it. Now THAT I liked, LOL."

"I guess you would. Was he gay?"

"No, married. All of them have either been straight, married or bisexual. 4 of the 6 were married. If you do it, you will definitely be the youngest one."

My hands were shaking again. "How would we do this? Do I drive up to your place?"

"Yes, and only at night."

I understood that immediately. My fantasizing took place exclusively at night. I had never even thought about gay-sex in the daylight. "It couldn't be this weekend," I wrote him back, and then asked myself why not. I had nothing lined up and nothing in the works. Fear, I guess. I followed up with: "I said that because I'm scared, Rob. There's no reason we couldn't get together tomorrow night or Saturday night. If you're free."

"I'm free and very willing to meet you. (Spelled "Anxious", LOL.) Want directions to my place?"

"Yes," I replied. My hands shook worse than ever. I jumped at the sound of my brother laughing downstairs and was sure I could be seen through the curtained windows. My penis ached with longing and leaked semen against my right thigh. I wanted to tell him so, but couldn't gather the courage.

"From Germantown, take 355 or I-270 to Route 80. Take 80 north/east to Prices Distillery Road, turn right on Ijamsville Road, and follow it north to Mahogany Run." He gave me the street address and the apartment number of his place, which I won't repeat here. "The next question, I guess, is when. And what do you look like, Jerry?"

Add embarrassment to trepidation. "Saturday night would be best, I think," I told him. "And I'm 5'9", weigh 165#, brown eyes and brown hair, and I'm white."

"LOL. White here too, 5'11", 170#, brown and brown also. I'm cut if you're interested--" which meant circumcised. "--and 7-1/2" and thick. You?"

I wanted to laugh. I almost did. I was nearly too jittery to write. "Also cut and 6" long. Normal thickness. Takes a small hook to the left. That okay?"

"Fine," he wrote back. "Just fine. Only keep in mind . . ."

He didn't have to say the rest. I understood. "I'll do all the sucking," I promised.

* * *

Saturday night arrived and I was a schizoid-paranoia attack waiting to happen. Everyone knew what I was doing tonight. Everyone knew I'd be on my knees in a few hours gobbling cock. I had neglected to bring up the subject of sperm in the mouth again and feared he'd expect it now. I had no idea if I could. I had no idea if I wanted to. The idea of cock in my mouth was enough to drive me nuts. The idea of swallowing? I shuddered mightily. "Get a grip on yourself," I whispered shakily. It was seven o'clock and getting dark outside. I already knew the way because I had driven up there last night to scope the place out. I had never been to Ijamsville before but felt I could navigate the main roads now blindfolded. Of his apartment house I could recite the number of steps to the front stoop, the number of windows in the front of the building, the makes and models of all the cars parked out front and the sex and colors of at least four of his neighbors. Two were females and one very cute. The other was a Goth and cute in her own way. I pray that he hadn't seen me.

We had set the time for nine o'clock so I could get back at a decent hour. I felt surprisingly stupid asking how long it would take but he came saying about two hours, if I wanted to talk. I wondered how long I could suck. Stupid sounding, I know, but I had never actually considered it before. The blow jobs I had received hadn't really lasted that long. Five or ten minutes, max. Getting it over with and done was a girls' ambition, I imagined. Who wants to suck if it's expected of you, even if its safer. I suddenly felt very sorry for girls.

At eight o'clock I told mom when to expect me back and went out to my car. I was jumpy as a cat at a canine convention and was sure the engine wouldn't start. Then, because I feared running out of gas, I topped off my three-quarters full tank at the Exxon. I really was a mess.

On the way up the road I recited my greetings. "Hello, Rob. I'm Jerry." "Hi, I'm Jerry from the chat room." "Remember me? I'm Jerry."

What if this was all a joke. What if some twisted friend of mine had discovered my screen name and set me up. What if Jerry the twenty-four year old nice-guy turned out to be Jerry the forty-year old redneck trucker who didn't except teenage boys knocking on his front door. What if friends planned a surprise party for me as a Halloween present. I almost turned the car around.

At eight-thirty I pulled into his parking lot and waited. At ten minutes to nine, I stopped twisting my hands in my lap and got our and locked the door. At five minutes to nine, I did the same thing and walked to the building. I climbed the stoop and pressed the button marked 3C and waited.

"Jerry?"

"Uh-huh."

"It's open, okay?"

The door buzzed and I grabbed the handle like a malfunctioning robot. My whole body felt like a malfunction--especially my bowels, which felt like warm dishwater--and I opened the door and went inside. I climbed the three flights of stairs to the third floor landing and there, as advertised, standing in the open doorway of his apartment, grinning uncertainly, was my date.

"Hi there," I said lamely.

"Hi there. You gonna come in?"

His grin had widened because unconsciously, I had stopped on the last riser before the third floor landing. I certainly wanted to flee. I wanted to turn tail on those steps and scramble down them like out of a burning building. Instead, I stepped up onto the landing and approached the door. He had on jeans and a long-sleeve vee-neck sweater and Reeboks. His hair was brown and longer than I had imagined, and he was freckled lightly across the nose and cheeks. His appearance was that of a shoe-store salesman or maybe a someone from Best Buy. In other words, normal.

"I'm Jerry," I said stupidly and stuck out my hand. He shook it and stepped back to let me in. His apartment was what you'd expect of a Best Buy employee: mismatched couch and chairs, a coffee table that looked like a Big Lots special, Wal-Mart lamps on mismatched end tables, and a large oval area rug covering most of the floor space. On the plus side was that the place looked immaculately clean, the flooring under the rug was gleaming wood, and he had a full dining room set, complete with china cabinet. Personal touches such as Redskins and Baltimore Ravens pennants on the walls, a three story waterfall with about a dozen potted plants stuck in one corner, a large component stereo system featuring Harman-Kardon equipment, a wide-screen projection TV and pictures of sports team gave the place a nice homey feel.

"Take your jacket?" he asked.

"Yeah, thanks." I took it off and handed it to him. He hung it on a line of pegs beside the front door. I watched him, thinking distractedly that between his legs was a 7-1/2" long penis with my name on it.

"Something to drink? I have Coke, diet-Coke, Pepsi, ice-tea, even bottled water."

"No thanks," I said, then, "Bottled water?"

"Coming right up." He walked into the dining room--which was about the size of closet in my mother's bedroom--through a doorway into the kitchen. I heard the refrigerator door open and the clank of jars and bottles on the shelves, and then it closed again and he returned with a bottle of Dasani for myself and a diet-Coke. "Cheers," he said, popping the aluminum pop-top.

"Cheers."

If I could have been any more anxious I don't know what would have caused it. I breathed consciously through my nose and felt every single heart beat. My ears rang and someone had replaced my brains with mud. Maybe mud could think better. "Do you, uh, live here alone?" I asked.

He nodded, grinning. Of course mud could think better.

"Stupid question," I said. "How about, do you get much company?"

"I won't tonight," he said. "Everyone thinks I'm out of town."

"Thanks good," I replied, feeling red light up my face. "Nice place."

He sat down in a chair and I sat on the couch. I crossed my legs, crossed them in the other direction, fumbled my bottled water putting it down on a coaster.

"It's okay," he said quickly, getting up and going to the kitchen. "It's laminate, not woods, so you can't hurt it." Regardless of that, I was about to cry. He returned with a dishtowel in his hand and wiped up the water. "Believe me, this is nothing."

Now completely humiliated, I sat back against the seat cushions and waited. I had nothing to say or could think of nothing and wanted to go home. My ego felt like a pinch of salt and so did my penis. I tried to locate it by muscle-flex, and found it had left the building. I wanted to follow.

"Relax, Jerry. I'm not going to bite you." The wrong thing to say to a guy there to suck your cock.

"I'm okay," I lied. I looked around the room, remembering I'd already said it was nice. The mud seemed to be churning. "You work where?"

"At Best Buy," he said. I laughed but he didn't seem surprised. "I get that reaction a lot. You work?"

"Part time. At the mall."

He didn't ask where. "You go out for team sports, Jer?"

"Do I look like I go out for team sports, Rob?"

"You could," he said, pleased that I was loosening up. "How's Seneca Valley doing this year?"

"Shitty," I said. "One and two. Damascus beat us."

"That's too bad."

"Yeah." I picked up my water bottle and my hand no longer visibly shook. Six guys he said he had been with so far, at least four of them in this apartment, and how many had been just like me? Surprisingly, I asked him.

"Every single one," he said. "I was scared shitless myself, remember. I always am."

"You don't look it," I said.

"I'm used to faking." He sat there in his chair with his soda can grasped between his hands, and his honesty reassured me. "Tell me about yourself."

I thought. "Well, I'm eighteen and I have a girlfriend." He smiled. "I play football and soccer at school--" I tipped my Dasani bottle at him in recognition. "--and softball and soccer for the county leagues. I was an honor student ninth, tenth and eleventh grades, and I'll probably go to my dad's alma-mater, Penn State." He cheered me here. "I have a 1999 Toyota Corolla that I will never be able to sell, a thousand CD's and as many MP3's as I could download before my hard drive filled up--" He laughed and tipped his diet-Coke. "And I know one of your neighbors is a Goth chick."

"Krystle," he said, not at all surprised. "She's hot."

"Is she?"

"When you get to know here, yeah."

I nodded slowly. "Yeah.". Then I blurted out: "I'm not sure I can do this! I mean--" I didn't know what I meant. But he seemed unfazed.

"Nobody's making you do anything, Jerry. As far as I'm concerned, you just dropped by for a visit. I had nothing at all planned for the evening, so I was glad to see you. I gotta warn you though, Krystle is only seventeen. She almost got me into trouble. If I hadn't asked, she wouldn't have told me, and she was only sixteen."

"Yeah?" I couldn't believe his cool. "That would have been a bummer, man."

"Ten years for ten minutes, yeah. Not worth it. Not worth it at all. Are you really eighteen, Jerry?"

Say no. Say no and that you're sorry for what you did, that you regret letting your stupid obsession fuck with your judgment but there it is. Say its not worth ten years for ten minutes, even if you're a guy, and nobody cares about guys because nobody wants the embarrassment of such a thing. Just say no.

Instead, I got out my wallet and handed him my driver's license.

"Thank you," he said, handing it back.

"You're welcome."

I put the license away and then I put the wallet away and then I asked what I wanted to say. "Can I suck your dick, Rob."

"You certainly can."

And I did.

I'm certain every guy like me has a story. Mine is special only because it happened to me. What I did with Jerry that night is also special, and nobody's business but my own. I will answer a few questions though.

Did I like it? Very much.

Did I see him again? Yes.

Did I let him cum in my mouth? Again, yes.

Did I swallow him? Well, that's something that only I and Jerry know about and I'm not telling.

Did he suck me?

No, but I can only hope.

THE END