Spill the Milk Pt. 01

I could taste the salt of his skin, and the scent of his musk was making my head swim. I licked all the way up the underside of his cock with broad swipes of my tongue. He tasted so amazing, it was making my arousal throb painfully within its confines.

I licked all around his plump head and kissed the tip before I sucked it into my mouth. His breath hitched, and he moaned loudly. I brought my hands up and caressed his thighs, his ass, and his hips while I worshiped his cock with my mouth. He was noisy, and I appreciated the guidance. I wanted to please him, and his sexy moans and gasps were letting me know that I was. I gently cupped his balls and caressed them. I was looking for clues. Some guys like it a little more forceful, and some like it soft and tender. He wasn't giving me much in response, so I popped off his dick and licked his sac.

"Oh fuck," he breathed and threaded his fingers into my hair, pulling me closer.

Hmmm. He liked that.

I gave his sac a thorough tongue bath and sucked his balls into my mouth, rolling them around with my tongue while I slowly stroked his saliva slickened shaft. He widened his stance, and I glanced up into his eyes. I let his balls fall out of my mouth and buried my nose under his sac. Extending my tongue as far as it would go, I licked his perineum. His eyes rolled back in his head.

I pulled my head back. "Do you want me to rim you, baby?"

"Oh God," he groaned. "Do you do that?"

"Not usually," I smirked. "But I'll do it for you."

"I don't think I can stand for that."

I chuckled. "I couldn't reach you like this anyway. I'm not Gene Simmons. Shall we?" I tilted my head toward the bed.

He glanced over at it. "There's not much head room up there."

I laughed. "Then our 'head' will have to stay horizontal."

He grinned at me.

I watched him crawl up into the bed, enjoying the unprecedented view of his sexy ass, before I stripped and joined him. He was right. There wasn't much head room. In fact, there wasn't enough to be able to sit upright. He was able to straddle my face, but only if he bent over. Which just encouraged him to suck my cock while I ate his ass. I was more than happy with that.

I knew he was getting close when he started to grind into my face while I was tongue fucking his ass and jacking his cock. I replaced my tongue with my fingers and sucked his balls back into my mouth. As soon as my questing fingers found his sweet spot, he started panting, "Oh fuck. I'm gonna come. I'm gonna come."

I kept stroking his prostate and let him fuck my fist at his own pace. He buried his face into my hip and sucked the skin into his mouth to muffle the sound as he cried out and painted my chest and stomach with his seed. The moment he was able to catch his breath, he dove back onto my cock and swallowed me down his throat. He was frantic to reward me, and his tight throat massaging my cock head was going to send me over the edge fast. I reached down, gripped his shoulders, and started thrusting into his mouth. He relaxed his throat and let me fuck his face.

"Fuck, Seth. I'm close," I warned him. "Can I come in your mouth?"

He hummed his approval, and the vibration on the head of my cock tipped me right over the edge into a mind-blowing orgasm.

When I woke up, not in my own bed, panic mode set in. I looked around the camper, but it was empty. I crawled out of the bed and slipped on my clothes, checking the pockets to make sure nothing was missing. I checked my phone, and it was just past ten. I left the camper and made my way to my truck in the parking lot, thankfully, not running into anyone I knew. When I got home and showered, I discovered that he had marked me. He'd left a hickey on my hip in almost the exact spot that he had a tattoo on his. I really didn't know how I felt about it.

After I got dressed, I sat down at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee, trying to figure out when I had become so fucking careless. I had never spent the night with anyone before. It was stupid and dangerous, and I swore to myself that it was never going to happen again.

**

I had just settled down at my computer. I had a new video queued up, and I was reaching for the bottle of lube, when there was an insistent knock on the door. After closing the lid of the laptop and stepping into a pair of shorts, I opened the door to find Mitch on my doorstep with a duffle bag in his hand and a guilty look on his face. I didn't have to ask what happened. I just pushed the door wide and let him in.

"I'm sorry," Mitch said as he plopped down on the couch.

"Don't apologize to me. I'm not the one you've been fucking around on."

He winced. "I meant about infringing on your personal space."

"Don't worry about it. Think she's gonna take you back?"

He shook his head and leaned back into the cushions. His head dropped back on the backrest, and he propped one foot on the coffee table. "I fucked up hardcore this time," he admitted. "I'll be surprised if she even lets me see the kids."

"Mitch. I love you like a brother. Hell, I love you more than my actual brothers. But I have to tell you, you've been fucking up since we were in high school. You've been cheating on her since you found out that she was pregnant. Hannah's nine, man. I'm shocked that it's taken Jamie this long to figure it out. It's not some phase that you're going through. This is just you. You're a dog."

He looked up at me. "Way to go, dude. Kick a buddy while he's down."

"I'm not trying to kick you," I argued. "I'm just telling you a hard truth. You're not cut out for marriage. Craig's the only one of us that's marriage material, and he can't seem to find a woman who wants to make that commitment."

"Fuck you," he shot back. "You're so full of fucking shit. You're more marriage material than every guy in this town, combined. I'm just waiting for the day that they make it legal. Maybe you'll poke your stupid fucking head out of the God damned closet and realize that nobody gives a shit that you like dick."

I just blinked at him. Not once, in the entire twenty years that we had been best friends, had he ever even hinted that he knew I was gay. Not once.

He shook his head in incredulity when I didn't respond. "You're a fucking idiot." He stood up and grabbed his duffle bag. "I'm going to bed. It's been a long night."

He walked out of the room, toward the spare bedroom, and I just stood there, staring at the spot he'd vacated.

**

Saturday morning, he walked into the kitchen, wearing nothing but a pair of plaid boxers, yawning and rubbing his sleep tousled hair. He poured himself a cup of coffee and sat down across the table from me.

"So what's on the agenda today?" he asked after he'd taken a few sips of coffee.

"I thought, since you were here, we'd go out back and dig a hole," I suggested.

"What the fuck for?"

"I've always wanted a pool," I replied with a smirk. "You're a pool guy. Get to it."

He narrowed his eyes at me. "One, we don't dig those things by hand, moron. Two, this is a rental house. And three, do you have any idea how much upkeep there is on those things?"

"The way I figure it, you can't afford to support two households. This seems like a good way for you to pay rent."

"I'll get you an aboveground," he offered.

"That'll kill the grass."

He laughed. "And you think digging a great big hole won't?"

I chuckled.

"Adam?" he started hesitantly. "Are we just going to keep pretending that I didn't say that shit the other night?"

I took a deep breath and slowly let it out. "Yeah. I thought we might."

He stared at me with his mouth set in a grim line. "Okay. Whatthefuckever. Your call, man."

"Hey, Mitch. It is my call. It's my life. Let it be."

He lurched forward and laid his forearms flat on the table on either side of his coffee cup. "Nobody fucking cares, Adam."

"Who's nobody?" I asked. "Who all knows, or thinks they know?"

"Everybody." He waved his arm to punctuate his statement. "Everyone knows, Adam."

"Thinks they know," I corrected.

He scowled at me. "Is that how we're going to play this? Lie, pretend, lie some more?"

"What do you want me to say?"

"I want you to say, 'I'm gay, Mitch. And I'm tired of being alone all the time. So let's go out and find me a fucking boyfriend because I deserve to be loved.' Say that, Adam. That's what I want to hear."

"I'm not alone, Mitch," I replied softly. "I have family. I have friends. I have you."

"And you thought that you wouldn't still have all that if you came out?" He huffed and then frowned. After a couple of seconds, he shoved out his chair and stood up with his coffee. "You don't think very highly of the people who love you."

He went to his room, and I didn't see him the rest of the day, but I could hear him fighting with Jamie over the phone. He was trying to arrange a time to see his kids, and she was refusing. That evening, when he finally came out of his room, his eyes were ringed in red. He'd obviously been crying. I hadn't seen him cry since he'd broken his arm in eighth grade. He was also dressed up, in nice blue jeans and a blue button-down shirt.

"Are you going out?"

"We," he corrected. "We are going out. Get dressed."

"Where are we going?"

"Avalon."

I laughed. "You want to go to a gay bar?"

"Sure." He shrugged nonchalantly. "Aren't you curious to see what it's like?"

"You're not going to give up, are you?"

He shook his head. "Have we met before?"

"Why are you so determined on fixing whatever it is that you seem to think is broken in my life?"

He sighed and sat down next to me on the couch. "I've made a hot mess of my life, Adam. I've fucked everything up so far beyond repair that I doubt I'm ever going to get to see my girls again. You have always been there for me. Always. I've never done anything to deserve it. It's time that I gave a little bit of that back, don't you think? So just let me be there for you, okay?"

"Okay." I grinned at him, and he smiled back.

"Cool. Now go get dressed, and let's go check this place out."

"Mitch." I smirked. "I already know what it's like."

He gaped at me for a second with his mouth open. "Umm, okay. Maybe I should let you pick the bar."

I chuckled and stood up to go get dressed. "That would probably be best, yeah."

**

We sat in his car, parked outside the bar of my choice. "Are you sure that you want to do this?"

"Yeah. Let's do it."

"You do realize that you're going to get hit on, right?"

His eyes opened wide in shock. "I'm not gay."

I huffed a half-chuckle. "You're a good looking guy, and you'll be in a gay bar. You're going to get hit on."

"But I'm not gay," he repeated.

"I know you're not. But they won't."

"Why not? Don't they have gaydar or some shit?"

That made me laugh. "Holy shit. Gay men don't have psychic superpowers, dumbass. If you're hot, and in a gay bar, you'll get hit on. End of story."

He thought about that for a second. One side of his mouth turned up slowly in a mischievous grin. "You think I'm hot?"

"Oh geeze." I groaned and rolled my eyes. "Yes. Okay. You're hot. If you'd had the slightest inclination toward guys, I would have been the one you'd been cheating on for all these years. Can we get past that now? Do you still want to go in? We don't have to do this, you know."

"Sure. Let's go. Let's see how many phone numbers I can collect."

I chuckled again. He was so clueless. "The guys here don't give out phone numbers, dude. They give blow jobs in the bathrooms."

"Seriously?" His voice went up a full octave in astonishment. "That's fucking... Umm..."

"Just politely say no, and you'll be fine."

I opened my car door, and he stopped me with a hand on my arm.

"Just for the record," he said. "I never would have cheated on you."

I laughed and shook my head in disbelief as I got out of the car.

So all of my friends and family knew my dirty little secret. Or thought they knew. No one had ever seen me with a guy before. This was a form of shock therapy. I had intentionally picked a meat market. I was throwing him into the deep end on purpose. Mitch thought he was okay with it? Well, we would just see about that.

I made sure that Mitch was situated at the bar before I hit the dance floor. I wasn't out there for five minutes before I had two guys grinding on me, one in front of me, one behind. It was good. Damn good. I hadn't been out in six weeks, and I needed it. I needed far more than I was going to get on the dance floor. I needed more than I was going to get in the bathroom too, but I couldn't ditch my best friend, so I was going to have to settle for what I could get, for now.

It didn't take me that long to pick a trick. He was a dark haired twink with big green eyes. It took me about an hour longer to get my treat for the night into a compliant mood. Pretty quickly after that, I was buried balls deep inside him while he was bent over the toilet with his pants around his ankles. Fucking on my feet was the norm for me. I'd had very few encounters that took place in a bed. And one of those, I'd fallen asleep and flipped out when I'd realized I'd spent the night with him. I regretted that. I'd never seen him again, but I'd wanted to. He was the only guy that I had ever been with twice.

I reached down and grabbed the little twink under me by the back of the hair. His hair reminded me of Seth's. It was the same color and length, but it was dry and not as soft as I remembered Seth's being. I pulled the little twink upright.

"Put your arms around my neck," I murmured into his ear. Once he'd complied, I reached around his waist and started jacking his prick. I was going to be quick, and I wasn't going to leave him hanging. He moaned and started thrusting into my fist, throwing off my rhythm for a few seconds. I compensated and then sped up to find my release. I could feel the fire coiling in my gut. "I'm gonna come," I warned him.

"Oh God yes!" he moaned. "Come in me. Your cock feels so good. I want to feel you coming in my boi pussy."

I didn't like that term. If I wanted to come inside a pussy, I'd be fucking a girl. I liked my men on the pretty side, but they were still men. Not girls. I let it go and concentrated on the tight heat around my cock. I wasn't going to be seeing this guy ever again, so it didn't matter what he called his ass. All that mattered to me was that we both come. Now.

"Come for me, baby," I crooned. "I want to see you come. I want to feel you coming while I'm fucking your tight little hole. Come for me."

"Oh God yes," he gasped. "I'm going to come. Fuck me harder. Oh God yes. Wreck me with your big, fat cock! Fuck me. Pound my pussy hard! Oh fuck, yes! Just like that! I'm coming!"

His body locked up, and his back arched as his cum splashed on the porcelain in front of him. As soon as he'd stopped shooting, I bent him back over, held him down with my hand between his shoulder blades, and pounded into him hard and fast until I unloaded into the condom.

"Hey." I squished myself in-between Mitch and the guy sitting next to him.

"Hey!" Mitch exclaimed. "Where've you been?"

I smirked at him. "Ready to go?" I shouted over the pulsing beat of the loud music.

"Already?"

"Yeah. Let's go someplace else."

He paid for his beer and followed me to his car. When we got closer to the car, he asked, "No luck here?" I just waited for him to unlock the car. We got in the car, and he tried again. "Where did you want to go next?"

"Someplace you'll be comfortable." I leaned back in the seat and dropped my head back on the headrest.

"Holy shit," Mitch exclaimed while starting the car. "You reek. You smell like..."

I arched my eyebrow and smirked at him. "Like...?"

"Ho. Ly. Fuck! Did you get laid?" He gaped at me.

"Hmm," I replied with a roguish grin.

"Fuck, Adam. We were only in there for two hours. How is that possible? You gotta hookup in there or something?"

"No. Never met him before. Don't even know what his name was."

"Ho. Ly. Fuck."

"You said that already," I pointed out.

"Is that what gays are like? 'Hey dude, wanna fuck?' 'Sure. Let's go.'"

I snickered. "Sometimes. Some guys. In that bar? Yeah. Pretty much. Guys go there for anonymous, fast fucking. Not all gay bars are like that."

"Well, shit." Mitch sighed. "I think I'm playing for the wrong team. Do you think it's too late for me to start liking guys?"

I laughed. "Yeah. I do."

**

We went to our usual watering hole and met up with Craig. The rest of the night was pretty mundane, and neither Mitch nor I brought up the gay issue in front of Craig. We were both pretty buzzed when we got home much later that night.

Mitch threw himself into the recliner. "Get me a beer, bitch," he ordered, playfully.

I smirked at him but grabbed a couple of beers out of the fridge for us, not that we needed any more. I sat down on the couch and put my feet up on the coffee table.

"Can I ask you something serious?"

I nodded. "Shoot."

"Why didn't you ever tell me?" he asked, frowning.

"Why didn't you ever tell me that you're straight?"

He huffed. "You know I'm straight."

"And you know that I'm not."

"Are you just fucking with me or what?" he groused. "It's not the same thing. I've been fucking girls in front of your face since... forever. You've never once dated a guy in front of me."

"I've never dated a guy at all. Ever," I admitted.

"Why not?" His eyes narrowed in confusion. "You're a good catch. You're nice looking, and you work out. You've got a job and your own place and shit."

"Do you remember the summer that we were twelve?" I asked. "We rode our bikes to Haggard Park every day."

He chuckled. "Yeah."

"One day, there were these guys there, older guys, smoking weed in the fort. We almost got in a fight with them. Do you remember that?"

He was concentrating hard enough for a line to form between his eyebrows before he gave up and shook his head. "No. Why?"

I wasn't surprised. The incident wasn't that uncommon. Nothing about that day was overly out of the ordinary. "We didn't get in a fight. Nobody got hurt. There were just some words exchanged. As a parting shot, you yelled out, 'Fucking faggots!' and we got on our bikes and went to the mall."

When I didn't continue my story, he prodded, "And...?"

I pried myself off the couch and stood up with my beer in my hand. "You think about it," I suggested. "I'm going to bed."

The next morning, when I got up, he was sitting at the kitchen table and had already made coffee.

He waited until I had finished my first cup before he spoke. "I heard what you said last night."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." He nodded and took a sip of his coffee. "The thing is, we were kids."

I scoffed. "You think it only happened when we were kids?"

His mouth set in a line. "It's just words, Adam. It doesn't mean anything."

"It doesn't mean anything to you, Mitch, because those words don't apply to you. Do you have any idea how many times words like, faggot, queer, cocksucker, and homo leave your mouth?"

He winced.

"You don't, do you?" I sighed. "You don't even hear yourself. But the thing is, I do. I hear you every single time."

He looked distressed, and I wasn't trying to hurt him. He had enough pain in his life at the moment. "Look, man. You're a straight, white, middle class man. You are never going to understand how it feels to be something different because you are never going to experience it. I'm not trying to fight with you. Can't we just leave it with you know, and I know you know, and, maybe, just go back to being us?"

"It's not just me, Adam," he responded quietly. "Everybody says shit like that all the time."