Shooting Matt Ch. 07

I just stood there. He straightened up and put his dick away. I was relieved by that. After coming, I remember panicking, not just at the risk of getting caught but in giving in and doing something so 'queer'. He leaned toward me. I was too confused, too stunned to move. He cupped the side of my face with his hand. I smelled my cock on his hand. He kissed my other cheek, right in front of my ear. He whispered that that was the best load he'd had in months. He told me I was hot. He told me to be cool and he told me to be careful. He'd left before I got myself together enough to put my cock back in my pants and leave.

The next time Leon was there. I told him to meet me in the Den, which was the small burger joint in the student union. I wasn't sure if he would. It was quiet. We grabbed a booth. I introduced myself. He introduced himself. I asked him if he wanted to hang out in my room. My roommate was gone for the weekend. He did. I tried to suck his dick in the same fashion the guy in the suit had sucked mine. Leon didn't seem to mind. That was our freshmen year. We hooked up on occasion. Leon was terrified of being outed. We never actually 'dated'.

During Spring semester, I meet Mary Beth, a theater elective, how apropos eh? She was larger than life, a tidal wave, I felt as if a ton of bricks fell on me, pick your own cliché, frankly I've never been able to come up with a decent simile or metaphor for how I felt around her. I suppose the best single word to describe how I viewed her back then would be 'monumental'. Even now, at this late date, all I can do is shake my head in wonder.

It wasn't one single thing. She was pretty, sure. She was smart, which was, and remains, for me essential. She was wickedly funny. She was utterly unwilling to compromise or conform. She was quite happy to inform a professor that he, or she, was full of shit and walk out of class. Need I mention she did not receive a degree? She was, in short, the most fearless person I've ever met. It does her a disservice to claim, as some in her family have, that her 'courage' was mere foolishness or a lack of judgement.

I work on campus that summer, sharing a cockroach retirement home above a porn store, with three other guys. Mary Beth went home but home was only an hour from campus. By the end of the summer I, we, had moved on from weed to molly. I'm not going to pretend I tried to stop her or resisted. Nope, rolling balls on molly was, well, dope. The first red flag was when the fall semester started up. At the time I pretend like nothing was wrong but if I'm honest, not too terribly far in the back of my skull warning bells were clanging.

I slowed way the fuck down once classes started. I wasn't even partying every weekend. Some cats might be smart enough to walk around fucked up most of the time and still ace their classes but I wasn't one of them. Neither was Mary Beth. She scraped together a couple of passing, barely grades, but failed three classes. Ding Ding Ding - Academic Probation.

I'm not saying I didn't attend parties. I was too afraid to let her out of my sight, not, I'm ashamed to admit, because I was worried about her. No, I was worried if I didn't keep up with her, if I let her lose sight of me, that she'd dump me for someone more exciting. I wasn't protecting her. I was protecting myself. We didn't see each other over Christmas break. The Mary Beth that returned to start the spring semester was more subdued. It would be a gross exaggeration to say she was 'quiet' but she was more subdued. And she was clean.

I'd see Leon on occasion but after falling into Mary Beth's orbit we no longer did anything more than say 'hi'. I introduced them. At the time I thought Leon was being a jerk, that he was jealous that I was interested in someone else beside him. Now, listening to my ex-wife's voice on the DVD, I'm not so sure.

Spring break was a Catastrophe. I always thought of it that way, later, with a capital "C".

I was pissed, totally pissed, that she had agreed to go on Spring Break without me. I couldn't afford a week in Cancun, even sleeping on the beach. I've never been able to forgive her imbecilic parents for not only letting her go but paying for it. They wanted to give her a 'treat' for 'getting her life in order' as her dried up old cunt of a mother later put it. If it isn't clear, I despised the old bitch. I have a bottle of Dom Perignon waiting to be chilled and savored on the day they plant her soulless withered corpse in the ground. I'd not be surprised if the earth puked the old bitch back out to rot in the sun. I'm well aware of the risk of projection in this instance, nonetheless I remain convinced that if there is one single person in the universe who was the cause of Mary Beth's destruction, it's her waste of space mother.

In the spirit of honesty, my primary concern about her jetting off to Cancun was that she was going without me. She hadn't found another guy, or not one that I ever knew of, but she had made a new friend - Mexican brown, black tar heroin.

I knew none of this at the time. I was happy to see her back. It was obvious she was partying again but, at first, I thought it was her usual cycle of weed and molly. I'm no longer watching my amateur porn video. I'm re-living the moment Mary Beth slid the little mirror toward me. She didn't tell me it was something new. I noticed it was a lot darker than molly but imagined she must have gotten a new supplier. I snorted it.

When I came down enough to be coherent, she inquired how I'd liked it, wasn't it great? No, it wasn't. I felt like I was totally unanchored from reality. It was my first and only experience with heroin. It was another red flag. Fuck, it wasn't a red flag, red flares were exploding across the sky if I had wit enough to notice. The woman I was already convinced I was in love with, had given me heroin without telling me what it was.

I could tell she found my refusal to follow her down that road a telling mark against me. Maybe that's why I choose to risk telling her I was bi, to show her I could be as 'out there' as she was. I was rolling balls at the time, of course. I thought she was too high to even understand what I'd told her. Hell, I barely remembered telling her. The next morning, I was still half asleep, trying to recall if we'd fucked or not, when she asked me about it. I stammered some shit about 'experimenting'. She wondered if 'we' could play around like that. Enter Leon.

The tape didn't happen immediately. Her good start to the semester wasn't good enough to withstand the onslaught of the new and improved Mary Beth. She was informed at the end of the summer she was no longer welcome to continue her quest for high education at our noble institution of learning. Her dad threatened to cut off funds, the old cunt interceded. Mary Beth was shaken enough to put the big H away, the first of many such endeavors. She found a job. She more or less moved into the roach ranch apartment with me. We shared a bed, not expenses. Her money went for her remaining, controllable vices, mostly molly by this time, very little weed.

My roommates loved and hated her. She deliberately walked around naked when she knew they were home. She made the most ungodly noises when we fucked, to make sure they knew she was giving to me what she only teased them with. At least, as far as I know, she only teased them with.

I gradually worked Leon into the mix. He had remained in the dorms. It was clear he didn't like Mary Beth but he liked me. I feel bad about that. I liked him too. In my defense, I'd yet to figure out how horribly her addiction was distorting the girl I first fell in love with. Eventually, he agreed to let her film us having sex, as long as he didn't have to do anything sexual with her. In turn, he'd film me with Mary Beth.

The result of that bargain is now playing on the TV in front of me.

Matt's correct. The sight of me teasing and tugging the top of Leon's jeans is hot. Hotter still, is the slow unzipping and extraction of his dick from the jeans. He wasn't completely hard. Having a chick you don't like hovering at your side with a camera can affect even a young dude. I tugged his jeans off his skinny hips. He had a dark complexion. His last name was Anderson but I always wondered if his mom was Italian or Greek or something. He had more than Northern European blood filling his dick. His hair was jet black and so fucking thick around his cock. Dudes, not in the Midwest anyway, didn't shave their junk in the early 90's. That was fine by me. I was already intoxicated by the manly smell pubic hair seemed to trap. As if to prove it, the phantom me on the screen presses his nose into the mat of hair above the dangling cock and inhales deeply before lowering his head to take said cock in his mouth.

I give myself credit. Liam claims I'm incapable of doing that, but when it comes to the sucking of cocks I'm willing to take credit. Personally, I think I'm a natural. Hovering camera armed bitch or not, Leon's cock is soon pointing at the sky. I sucked cock then, pretty much as I suck it now, lots of mouth, lots of hand, interspersed with occasional deep throating. I swear I can smell his musk, lying here, as if my nose is once more buried in the thicket of his pubes. The deep throat always ends with a shake of the head or a thrumming deep in my chest. The back stroke requires plenty of tongue pressure on the undershaft and a nice twisting follow up hand stroke.

At that point you need to let things settle down a little bit. Tilt and lower your head, just like I'm doing on the screen, and play with his balls. Lick and kiss the sides of the shaft. Avoid the head, unless you're ready to make 'em jizz. When you sense your partner is getting restless, a moan, fingers in your hair, or the simple yet effective, "dude, suck my dick", that's when you go back to the head. But take an indirect route. Circle the head with your tongue. Kiss the head. Probe for his dew with your tongue.

Now's the time you take the head in your mouth, not the whole dick, just the head, just like the phantom video me is doing. Seal your lips around that delectable meat and pop the head, really just the crown, in and out of your mouth. Keep your lips tight. You want to squeeze the blood out of the head with your lips. When they slide off his dick, all that blood rushes back in, swelling the head in the most delightful fashion. Do that a few times, pause to tongue the V on the underside of his crown. If you're lucky enough to be sucking an uncut cock like Leon's, also pause to run your tongue around the space between the foreskin and the head. Use those pursed lips to pull the foreskin completely over the head. Mr. Miyagi told you not to forget to breathe. I'm telling you not to forget the foreskin. It sure'n hell isn't 'gross' and it's packed with nerves. Nerves, whose sole purpose is to make sure their owner ejaculates forcefully and copiously. Of course, evolutionarily speaking, that ejaculate should be in a pussy in order to ensure the nerve's owner's genes are spread around but the nerves don't know that. Do not forget to play with the foreskin.

He should be already for you to take him all the way into your throat again.

Repeat. And repeat, until you succeed in stealing his birthright, his genes, for your hungry, horny-assed mouth.

My critique of my cock sucking abilities fades as I listen to the DVD. I cannot recall the last time I played it with the sound on. I've always assumed that was because Liam was hanging around the house somewhere. As I listen, I'm not so sure that's the reason at all.

The phantom Mary Beth, my soulmate, sounds like a complete and total bitch. I close my eyes, shut out the distraction of Leon's cock sliding in and out of my mouth, and focus on her voice. Has it really taken me twenty years to realize Leon didn't dislike her because he was jealous. He disliked her because she was a bitch.

"Homo" and "suck him fag boy" are some of the nicer epithets she uses. I lie back, eyes still closed and feel sick to my stomach. She's not tossing those comments at me alone, plenty of them are aimed at Leon. And I let her. There's no way to tell, not from watching, that I had essentially shut her out. I was loving what I was doing. I was loving being back with Leon, even if under somewhat bizarre circumstances. I distinctly remember being annoyed that she wouldn't shut up. But only because I found her droning irritating, not because I was pissed at what she was saying.

Listening and watching that DVD, the only reasonable conclusion someone, say for instance, Matt, could reach is that I'm the biggest fucking passive man-bitch to ever draw breath.

The sound cuts off. The bed shifts slightly. There's not enough room on my right, the side near the TV for Matt to lie down. He crawls over me and lies down on my left.

***

I'm not sure how long we lay there, probably only a few minutes.

"I'm sorry," he says softly.

"Why?"

"For asking to unmute it. I didn't know."

I snort. "Bud, don't sweat it. Fucking stupid as it sounds, I didn't know either, not until just now."

"No shit?"

"Yup, no shit." I let the breath out I've been holding. "There's no reason for you to believe this but it's true. I wasn't paying any attention to her. I remember wanting to tell her to just shut the fuck up but it was because her voice was distracting me." I roll over to look at him. "I'm a pussy but not that big a pussy. I didn't hear, not until today, the spite, the venom in her voice." I fall back on the bed. "I always imagined Leon was jealous of her. It never occurred to me he hated her because she was a bitch to him."

"And you, dude. Don't forget that part of it."

His voice is insistent.

"I'm not, but I've had years to grow used to it, years to understand. Leon must have hated me more than he hated her. I never once stood up to her. No wonder after the second time, he never talked to me again." I rise up to look at him again. "You need to understand, that's not Mary Beth you're hearing; it's the drugs, the addiction. She wasn't like that."

He doesn't say anything. I feel like I need to defend my ex, to make him understand what she was really like before the drugs. I don't have the strength for it.

I lie back on the bed. My plans for the afternoon, my preparation, have just been blown to hell.

The bed shifts and Matt is on top of me. His legs straddle my hips. He scoots down. His cock falls between my legs. He works his hands under my back and rests his head on my shoulder.

"You were an English major?" he asks.

I'm not sure what that has to do with anything but I answer. "Yeah, I told you that."

"I know," he agrees. "What I'm having trouble wrapping my gourd around is how you can still be so fucking stupid. No offense, bro."

"No, of course not, why would I be offended? But would you mind enlightening me as to where exactly my stupidity lies?"

"Your ex-wife. Why do you always make excuses for her? Is it, like, your way, of saying 'hey, I wasn't a fucking 'tard, she was really great, it was the drugs'? Fuck bro, I'm a dumb jock and even I heard of that vino ver-whatever the fuck saying."

"In vino veratis?"

"That's the one."

"Matt, you never knew-"

"I don't need to, mother-fucker," he hisses as he lifts his head to look at me. "Don't you fucking get it? I only saw a little bit of her when she still lived here. Liam and I didn't hang often back then. That was enough. I've heard enough, from that tape, from Liam. Dude, she's bad news. End of fucking story."

"When did you talk to Liam about his mom? I didn't get the impression you two were particularly good buddies in high school."

"We weren't BFFs but we spent a lot of time on buses, killing time on the way to meets. We talked."

I let it go.

"I don't mean to sound like I'm making excuses for her. She's responsible for her own actions and her own life. That's enough. I don't need to add to her plate of grief."

"Whatever, dude but, speaking personally, I think you cut her way too much slack. She's your ex; it's your business."

He falls quiet. I find it hard to believe how comforting the rise and fall of his chest against mine is.

"I fucking hate the idea of her shitting on you. That's all."

"Bud, I appreciate that more than you can probably imagine," I tell him and put my arms around him.

It occurs to me I'd be an even bigger fool to let a twenty-year old tape ruin my afternoon.

I stroke Matt's back, dancing my fingers over the rows of muscle that run along his spine. My fingers just reach the top of his ass. He rotates his head and kisses my nipple. I remove one my hands from his ass and cup the back of his neck. My fingers tighten when he bites my nipple. He holds it between his teeth and flicks it with his tongue.

"Jesus, bud, that feels amazing," I tell him, in case the way my back arches fails to convey my pleasure.

He lifts his eyes to mine. He's smiling as he tugs on my nipple with his teeth.

"Harder, a little harder," I whisper.

He does as I ask. The sensation arcs from my nipple to my chest, to my throat, to the center of my gut. He continues to tug, even to grind ever so gently. When he releases my nipple, a zing, almost like a zap of static electricity, surges through my nipple.

I pull his head down to my other nipple. He's rougher now and requires no further encouragement. His dick grows hard between my legs. He lifts his hips, freeing it to grind against my own. His long brown hair is combed today, no tangles. I run my fingers into his hair and urge him upward. I love what he's doing to my nipple but I want to taste his mouth, feel his tongue against my own.

"Don't shave," I ask as he stares into my face. "Your armpits, don't shave, at least for the summer."

He smiles. "Sure." He's rubbing his dick over my belly. "I noticed you liked my pits." I nod. He twists, takes hold of one of my arms, and pushes it above my head.

"Let me see why," he mutters.

He leans over my chest and buries his nose into my left armpit. I showered. I'm not worried about stank.

"Tickles," he whispers and his breath does to me what he accuses my hair of.

He leans on his outstretched arms, sitting on my belly.

"What's the big deal? Dadster," he adds with a wicked grin.

"Grab me after a work out sometime. I'll show you." I pause. "Junior."

He shakes his head, slowly, sadly. "Weak, bro. Freakin' weak."

"Yeah," I agree. "Pretty weak."

He rubs his ass and cock over my belly, smiling down at me.

"Matt?"

"Yeah."

"I want you to fuck me."

The way he leans over and devours my mouth with his own leads me to suspect he's okay with it.

***

"Grab a condom out of the drawer." I don't tell him I bought them today. The ones I had must have been two or three years old.

He gives me a look. "Randy, I'm clean, dude."

"I'm sure you are. So, am I. I think. But better to be safe young Padawan. I've fooled around a little over the past year, only oral, which is low risk but not no risk. I'm willing to chance oral. If this, whatever this is, lasts, and we can be sure we can trust each other, then we can ditch the condoms. I'm using them when I fuck you, if I fuck you."

The troubled look continues to hang on to his face. "So, you're saying you don't trust me?"

"I'm saying I don't even trust myself. Look, we can test ourselves later but it should be at least six weeks after we've had sex with anyone else. I haven't had sex, sad to say, for months. You?"

"No. I've hardly done anything like this. Mostly watching, some touching, a little, hardly any, oral. But that was all before finals and the state meet."

"Cool. Let's not talk about it now, okay? Besides safety, condoms make things a little less messy, though that shouldn't be a problem today."