Please Wait for Me

I kissed my way back up him. I hovered over him and kissed him.

"How was that?" I asked.

"Better than I imagined it could be," he gasped through ragged breaths. "How was it for you?"

"Also better than I imaginged it could be," I said, smiling and meaning every word. "Roll over."

He did. I kissed every mole on his back, his backside, and the backs of his legs. I licked the bottoms of his feet. I covered his body with mine, held his hands, and placed my cheek against his. I could have fallen asleep, just like that.

"James?"

"Yes."

"You're crushing me."

I rolled off of him, and he rolled off the bed. I looked at him, naked, for the first time. As in his jeans and his underwear, he hung a little to the right. He had little hair anywhere, including in his crotch.

He covered himself with his hands.

"I've had it in my mouth," I said. "I think I can look at it."

"It's making me self-conscious."

"It shouldn't. You're beautiful."

"Stop saying that."

"You're beautiful, Luke Rydell. Beautiful beautiful beautiful."

He shut me up by pushing me onto my back, scrambling over me, and sitting back on my hip bones. His face turned serious.

"How'd you know what to do?" he asked.

"I didn't," I answered. "I just did what I wanted to do."

My answer was only partially true. I had also watched and re-watched (and, to be truthful, re-watched and re-watched and re-watched) a Hancock video involving a gymnast named Bron. Bron claimed both to be straight and to be unable to "go" from oral sex. It took Mike Hancock a long time, but he was able to prove Bron's claim wrong. As I watched and re-watched, I wanted to be Mike way more than I wanted to be Bron. And, I had seen the video so many times, I thought I could initiate every move Mike had made.

Luke reminded me of Bron. Both were short (Bron was only 5'7") but big (I could not find details on how large Bron was, but he was definitely disproportionately large) and virtually hairless.

"Well, I don't have nothing to compare it to, but you seemed to know what you were doing."

"It's easier than it seems."

"I hope I'm good at it."

"You will be. . . . You're beautiful, by the way, sitting there like that, all wide eyed and innocent."

"I told you to stop saying that."

"I know, but I can't."

"I don't feel very innocent. And I'm about to feel even less so," he said, lowering his head to my chest and licking my left nipple. He didn't know it, but there was a direct line from my nipples to my groin. I twitched when he started gently sucking.

He clumsily kissed and licked his way through my chest hair and down the trail that led to my pubic hair. I spread my legs and pulled them up, bent at the knees. He pulled me up with his hand and paused.

"You dont' have to, Luke."

"I want to. I'm just not sure how."

"I'll enjoy it no matter what."

He tentatively licked my glans. I shook with joy.

He looked up at me and smiled that smile that made me smile. I cautioned him. "I'm going to apologize in advance. It usually takes me a long time." In that way, I was like Bron, who took forever in that video to "go." Whether with Jess or on my own, my orgasms built very slowly, and -- even when they were right there -- sometimes struggled to crash through. It was a benefit at times (e.g., when I was with Jess and bringing her home first) and a detriment at others (e.g., when I was on my own and wanted a quick release).

"I'm pretty sure I have as much time as you need," he said. "As you know, I've got nowhere to go," he added, chuckling to himself.

I felt the warmth of his mouth around me. He stayed still, like he was dipping his toe in the water and deciding whether to dive in.

He dove. His mouth slid down. I cringed with restraint. It was all I could do not to put my hand on the back of his head and force him all the way down.

I lasted too long. I could tell when his jaw was tiring. I added my hand and moved it in rhythm with his mouth, trying to speed my orgasm along. Ultimately, he pulled off, taking a deep breath and working his jaw back and forth.

I kept going. As Luke watched, I reached into the nightstand and pulled out the fleshlight I had ordered about six months after Jess died. I spit in it and then slid it down over me. As I worked it, Luke placed his hand over mine. We worked it together.

When I finally warned him I was close, he pulled the fleshlight off and finished me with his hand. He kept at it long after I had finished on my chest and stomach.

When I opened my eyes, he was staring at me.

"That was hot," he said. "Watching you finish like that. I've never seen that before."

"Come here."

"In that?" he asked, a little incredulous.

"Yes," I said, grabbing him under the arms and pulling him down on top of me, smearing my fluid between us. I kissed the look of surprise off his face and kept kissing him until I could feel he was ready again.

"Straddle me," I insisted. He did, moving his knees under my arms. I took him in my mouth again. I used my hands on his hips to move him in rhythm with me until he did it on his own. I added my hand to him, as I had to myself, and let him control the speed. He held onto the headboard and used it for leverage.

Luke gasped as he finished and slumped over me. I again kept at him until he shuddered. He sat back on my chest and looked down at me.

"Wow," he said.

"Yeah . . . . Wow," I answered.

"I had no idea what I was missing."

"Sex is awesome. It shouldn't be so taboo."

"Does my, you know, taste bad?"

"You mean your cum?"

"Yes."

"Say it."

"I can't."

"Please."

"Okay. Cum. Does my cum taste bad?"

"No. It's a little strong, but the thrill of knowing what I'm doing for and to you is stronger. I like it."

We moved to the shower. I washed him with my bare hands, kissing him all over as I did. There was not a cranny or nook on his body that my fingers and hands did not explore.

When I was finished, he returned the favor. I had to kneel so he could wash my hair, my ears, my face, and my neck. He seemed nervous as he washed my crack and then my crotch.

When we were clean, I wrapped my arms round him and held him under the water. We slowly rocked back and forth, dancing to whatever was on Pandora, slippery and aroused, but happy.

I pulled back, looked down, adjusted my height, and took us both in my right hand hand. Forehead to forehead, we watched my hand move back and forth.

"Stop moving your hand," he whispered. When I did, he started working his hips back and forth. I did the same, sliding in and out of my hand and along the top of him.

"We don't seem normal," he said.

"How so?" I asked, wondering if he was experiencing pangs of guilt at being with me.

"They say normal is about six. We both seem bigger than that."

Whew, I thought to myself before asking "Haven't you ever measured?"

"No. Have you?"

"Of course. Every man has. Except you, apparently."

"How big is it?"

"Just over 8. But, I'm a big man. It'd be weird and look weirder if it wasn't big, too. You, on the other hand . . . " I stopped and looked down, holding only him in my hand. "You're too big for your body."

"I know. I always have been. Luckily. It gets me respect in the barracks."

"I bet."

"They call me 'Donger.' That's the other name. The one I wouldn't tell you. They say it's from an old movie. There was a Chinese guy named 'Dong' or 'Donger.'"

"Sixteen Candles."

"That's the one. Every once in awhile, they joke 'We need to get Luke laid. The Donger needs food.'"

"I'm not going to call you 'Dong' or 'Donger.'"

"Good. I like Guppy a lot better."

We kissed again. While we did, I reached back down and stroked us together.

"That feels really good," he said.

He was right. It did.

"I'm getting close again," he said.

I kept going. I could feel Luke's orgasm move through his shaft. After he grunted and finished against my abdomen, he urged me to keep going and to finish, too. We kissed and kissed as I continued to work myself. We were running out of hot water by the time I finished, my back against the marble tile as Luke watched, rapt.

We rinsed the evidence away and exited the shower. I dried Luke, and then he dried me. As he dried my lower legs and feet, he took my soft penis in his mouth. As I started to harden, he maneuvered me against the vanity and started going at me with vigor. When he added his hand to the shaft, I added my hand to the back of his head and used it to control the speed.

This time, he lasted longer than I did. When he started to slurp, it took me over the edge. "I'm coming," I warned. He pulled off, and I sprayed over his right shoulder onto the tile floor.

"Sorry," he said. "I chickened out at the last minute."

"Nothing to be sorry for, Luke. That was incredible."

"I should have finished the job."

"You did. No complaints here. Seriously."

We were hungry. We slid into shorts and headed to the kitchen. We kissed over and over as I made spaghetti, and we kissed over and over as we ate it. We couldn't stop kissing each other.

We left the mess and went back to bed for dessert. We revisited the afternoon. We were side by side, but at opposite ends. I took him in my mouth. He took me in his. We were each moving our hips, sliding in and out of each other's mouths. Every time I thought "it can't get better than this," it did.

At 2 a.m., we found ourselves in the pool, swimming some of the mess we had made off of us. To my astonishment, Luke started singing "You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy, when skies are grey . . . ." He wouldn't stop, so I buried my tongue in his mouth. As we kissed, he kept humming. If my neighbors had tried to determine what was going on, they'd have seen Luke and me, nude, kissing, and dancing in the moonlight slowly to Elizabeth Mitchell's simple song. As we did, the cicadas serenaded us. From the left, they would sing until it reached a din. When they were finished, the same would happen from the right. Back and forth they whirred, one group answering the other, the two of us in the middle.

Long after Luke stopped humming, we remained the same. My arms were around him, and his arms were around me. My body was pressed to his, and his was pressed to mine. We were slowly shifting back and forth, trying to make everything last longer than we could.

For the first time since I could remember, I felt free. All I had been taught washed away, leaving only what I felt and wanted. And all I felt and wanted was right in front of me in the form of Luke David Rydell, Private First Class.

We danced to the absence of music. We danced to the absence of strictures.

Whether we could or should, neither of us let go. Everything seemed too fragile, like one false move might shatter everything.

"What are you thinking?" he asked me.

"Me? I'm thinking about how awesome this is and how I lucky I am. I'm so happy."

"Me, too," he answered. "I can't believe this is happening."

"It's like a movie."

"It's like a song."

"Remember yesterday, when we were under water?" I asked.

"Of course."

"I wanted to kiss you more than I have ever wanted anything."

"I wanted you to kiss me more than you wanted to kiss me," Luke answered, smiling at my expression of want and then disappearing into the water. I went under after him. When I caught him, he pulled me into the deepest kiss he could. We kissed until we were at risk of drowning, stopping only to surface and gulp air.

We slept little that night. By the time the sun came up on the 21st, I had explored every inch of Luke's body with my tongue. I had learned what made him giggle and what made him writhe. I also learned that, despite his isolated upbringing, he was deeply trusting, willing to make himself as vulnerable to me as possible.

As the morning wore on, we were in the shower again, having delayed for as long as we could the departure for the airport. Luke was again in front of me, and I was watching myself slide in and out of his full lips. I didn't think I could come again, but then I felt the hint of a surge and concentrated until it was sweeping over me. I warned Luke, but he kept going, letting me finish in his mouth for the first time. I doubled over as I did, exhausted and spent. Luke swallowed and let me go soft in his mouth.

"Was that okay?" I asked.

"Yes," he answered. "I don't know what I was afraid of. You taste fine."

When Luke stood, I kissed him. I could taste myself on his tongue.

"Hey, Guppy," I finally said. "I want you to know something. I want this to be a beginning, not and ending."

I thought I saw the suggestion of tears in his eyes. "Me, too," he answered.

"So, we can keep in touch while you're active?"

"Yes, so long as I'm not deployed overseas. Overseas, we don't have phones or any other way to keep in touch, other than old school pen and paper."

"Then don't get deployed."

He smiled at me. "If it was up to me, I wouldn't go back."

"Come on," I answered. "You're a soldier. A great soldier. Go back. Do what you do well."

"I don't want to leave you," he confessed.

"I don't want you to leave me," I confessed back. "But, you have to. We'll make it work. It'll be easy," I lied.

"It won't," he answered, wisely.

"I know. But, we'll make it seem easy."

His face seemed uncertain. I'm sure mine did, too. So, I resolved the uncertainty by repeating "we'll make it seem easy" and lowering my mouth to his and kissing him as deeply and as passionately as I could. I can't speak for him, but the kiss washed away all my uncertainty and fortified my resolve. It had taken me forever to find Luke. There was no way I was going to let him go.

I told him. "I waited a long time for you, Guppy," I said. "I can wait a while more."

He met my admission with an E5 grin. It was the grin that made me grin. Before we stopped ourselves, we were both laughing. In retrospect, I think we laughed to avoid crying.

As we dried off, my avoidance ebbed, and I started to cry. Not a sobbing kind of cry, but a soft cry of slow, steady tears. I was surprised. I had thought I was all cried out after Jess's funeral.

"Why are you crying?" Luke asked.

"I think I'm crying out of happiness."

"I know. I feel the same way. I want to cry, but not out of sadness. Out of "oh my God happiness'."

I held him against me, his head under my chin. Before I let go, I pressed my lips to the front of his head and tried to pour as much affection as I could through my lips into him.

We dressed in silence. As we headed to the garage, I stopped Luke, spun him around, and pinned him to the car door with a kiss.

"I think we need to go," he huskily whispered.

"I need this more," I said, pulling his shorts down, lowering his briefs, and taking him one more time in my mouth. I used my hands to move his hips in rhythm with my mouth.

"Oh my God, Jimmy," he called out, filling my mouth yet again. I swallowed and went down as far I could. I loved the feeling of him in my mouth, sated and spent. I loved more that he had called me Jimmy, only the second person for whom the word seemed to fit in their mouth.

We drove to the airport in silence. About halfway there, he took my hand in his.

"This right here," he said. "This is why Mad Max: Fury Road is my favorite movie. It took all the courage I had to hold out my hand to you. I was so happy and relieved when you took it."

I looked at him and smiled. He winked at me, and I winked back. I almost blurted "I love you," but I held myself back. I'm not sure why.

I stopped at the curb, helped him with his rucksacks, and waited for him as he checked them. I then held him for as long as I could, squeezing him as tight as I could. I didn't want to let him go.

I released myself. I kissed his temple and whispered "I love you, Guppy" in his ear. I wasn't sure he heard me, but I didn't care. I was thrilled to have said it.

"I have to go," he conceded.

"I know," I answered. "Be safe," I added, way more vulnerably than I intended.

"You, too."

I watched him walk toward the door. Turn around, I thought to myself. Please turn around.

He did. Just before he entered the terminal, he stopped, turned around, grinned his E5 grin, and raised his hand. I raised mine back, also grinning.

He mouthed "Bye" and I mouthed "Bye" back. He disappeared through the door, and I turned, walked to the driver's side, and climbed into my car. I was checking my side mirror to pull back out when I heard a knock on my passenger's side window. Assuming it was the parking police, I barked "I'm going" as I turned to see Luke, squatting and smiling through the glass.

"I love you, too, Jimmy," he mouthed, silently through the glass.

I was too stunned to move. He put his hand to the glass, leaving a print. I started to reach for his hand, but he turned and was gone in one swift move. He made his way through the crowd and into the terminal. I had no choice but to leave.

I grinned all the way home. It was a huge grin. It was a grin I'd have noticed sitting at a an O'Hare gate.

When I got home, I went through my room and started a bath. I wanted to relax and soak the prior days in.

As I turned from the tub, I saw a message in soap on my bathroom mirror. It read "Please wait for me." Beneath it, I saw Luke's dog tags piled on the vanity between the two sinks. I knew he hadn't forgotten them. He'd left them for me. I picked them up and draped them around my neck. I pressed them to my chest.

Grinning as widely as I ever had, I walked to my phone, which I had left on the charger. I knew Luke was in the air and would not get my text until he landed. Still, I needed to answer his message. I stole it and texted "I feel like I waited for a long time for you already. I'm happy to wait longer."