Wonder: Andy Ch. 01

"Don't look at it." He leaned forward, elbows on knees, but one hand still clasped to his shoulder. "I know it sucks."

"I think it's kind of sweet," I said. "I'm a grandma's boy, too" The ridges of his backbone protruded like little white hills in a snowy plain. My hand moved to touch his back, but I stopped myself. Not quickly enough, though. He looked over his shoulder at me, stony-faced.

"I... I'm sorry," I stammered, panicky.

"I thought that's what you brought me up here for," he said coolly. Was he angry? Sad? Creeped out? I couldn't decipher him. "What the money was for."

"No... I already said—I don't expect anything from you," I was getting frustrated with this. I was just trying to be nice! "Look, I'm not the kind of guy who's going to try to pressure you into doing something you don't want to. I'm not that brave and I'm not that much of an asshole."

His hands were clasped together, and he rubbed the knuckle of one thumb with the flat of the other. "I thought you were into me," he said quietly.

Wow. What would happen if I admitted it? By this point I highly doubted he was going to bash me, and besides—I could probably hold my own against him. OK, just play it cool, don't come on too strong... "Would that bother you, if I was?"

"No." He avoided looking at me. "I might be into it."

Was this actually happening? Fumbling, hesitant step by step, was this really going to lead to what my whole body was now thrumming with anticipation for?

"You ever done anything with another guy before?" I asked.

"Nah," he said, but then after a pause, "A couple of times. I got drunk with a buddy once and we whacked off together, and one time I let some guy suck my dick. He gave me fifteen bucks."

"Did you like it?"

He shrugged. "I liked the fifteen bucks."

"Oh, come on, you're telling me someone's nice enough to suck your dick and you didn't even like it?"

"Yeah, it was OK." Although he was now looking over towards me a bit, his eyes were still primarily on his fidgety fingers. "I guess the dude was good at it. It was over too fast, though."

"That's not the other guy's fault," I wanted to say, but I wasn't taking any chances of alienating him. "Well, at least he didn't expect anything in return," I said.

His head hung low, shoulders hunched up towards his ears. "I done that too, once—for money." He looked at me momentarily, then back down. "I could again, I guess."

"Whoa, wait—are you saying that you'd suck my dick because I gave you money?"

He shrugged, and in a hollow voice said, "If you want."

"Oh, jeez, C.J., come on!" Of course I had fantasized ecstatically about that very event happening in some dream world, but now it just seemed sordid, depressing. "You know..." I sputtered, at a loss for words. I had intended to say something reassuring, kind, supportive, but what came out instead was, "I don't have to pay for it, you know." In theory this was true, but it had been months since I'd touched or been touched by another person. I wanted to be with C.J. for so many reasons, wanted to do everything with him, but not like this—not just because I'd feel like I was exploiting him, but because I needed to know he felt at least a trace of desire for me, that I would be something more than just a miserable, degrading transaction. I was hard up, but I still had my pride! "I would feel gross knowing you only were having sex with me because I paid you. I would only want to do something if you wanted to."

Now he looked at me, with those unreadable blue eyes, that unfathomable blank expression. "I'm still here, ain't I?"

I took off my glasses and rubbed my closed eyes with thumb and forefinger. "I just want to be sure," I said. "Like I told you, I don't want to make you do something you don't want..."

"Well..." he asked nervously. "What do you want?"

"Is it OK if I kiss you?"

"Nah," then after a pause, "not yet."

"OK if I touch you?"

"Yeah."

It was going to take a lot of will power to hold back from ramming my tongue down his throat while I had my hands on him. Sensing my uncertainty, C.J. sat upright, then slid down on the couch until his butt was barely still seated, hanging over the edge of the cushion, his lower body splayed out. He was offering up that beautiful torso, his chest, nipples, ribs, abdomen, belly, for my touch. My hand trembled as I made contact. His skin was smooth, hotter than I expected, almost as if he had a fever. I ran my palm from his chest down along his side to the waistband of his shorts, my hand lingering on that place I had so ardently fantasized about touching: his exquisitely defined Apollo's belt.

He was watching intently the progress of my hand, then both hands, as they traversed his expanse. I couldn't tell if he liked it or not, but he made no move to stop me. I crouched down beside him, unbuttoned and unzipped his shorts, and slipped them off. He cooperated wordlessly, like a child being undressed by a parent. My hands glided back up his muscled thighs to his white cotton briefs.

He wriggled a bit. "I don't want to be the only one with no clothes on."

Oh, believe me, my beautiful boy-o, me neither! "Maybe it would be better if we stretched out on my bed." I tilted my head towards the bedroom. He followed me, and we lay down together on my bed, a second-hand full-size mattress on the floor (box springs and a headboard were still too bourgeois for me).

C.J. lay on his back, head propped up on a pillow, and watched me as I hurriedly undressed. I positioned myself on my side next to him and took up where I'd left off in the outer room.

"Is this OK?" I asked as my hand wandered its way down to his briefs and began explorations.

"Ungh," he grunted, which I chose to interpret as, "Yes."

He grew hard as I groped and squeezed outside his underwear, then harder still when I slid my hand down inside, to that hot, humid zone below the equator. "I'm gonna take these off," I told him. He obediently lifted his butt and thighs up off the mattress, and slid his feet out when the briefs had reached has ankles. His cock, now fully erect, had sprung up like a Jack-in-the-box as I pulled off his underpants—confirmation that at least part of him was into being here with me.

The contrast between his pale skin and the orange fizz of pubic hair from which it rose and throbbed made C.J.'s erect cock look almost shockingly purpley-red. It looked like a raspberry popsicle. I reached out and gripped it, feeling its hardness and heat and pulse, carefully, slowly tugging upwards, then back down. C.J. gasped. A trickle of precum made it look like the popsicle was starting to melt. And what do you do with a melting popsicle? It was irresistible. I moved down and laid my tongue on the engorged head of his cock, gently licking the slit, tasting his saltiness. My tongue traveled slowly down the length of his shaft, then just as leisurely, back up, acquainting itself with the size and shape, the taste and temperature, all the way to the top, where I closed my lips softly around the glans.

"It's OK, man," C.J. said uncomfortably. "You don't have to."

I stopped, his dick in my hand, and looked up at him to reassure him that I wasn't doing anything I didn't really, really want to. "It's OK, I want to," I told him. "I like sucking cock, and I want to suck your cock—unless you don't want me to."

"It's not that, it's just," he paused, sounding embarrassed. "It's just...you're gonna make me shoot too soon and I don't want to yet."

"I'll take it slower," I said, bringing myself up into a kneeling position, then straddling him. "I'll try to be aware, but tell me if you're getting too close."

My cock was like an iron rod by this point, and aching to be touched. C.J. made no move to do so, even though my raging erection was practically right there in his face, probably drooling precum down onto him by this point. Oh well—if he wasn't going to, I guess I'd have to make do myself. I took his cock in my open hand, and centering myself over his prone body, pressed mine against his and closed my fist around both, gripping tightly and jacking us together. It felt fantastic, but was hardly my most fervent fantasy come true.

"Is this good?" I asked.

"Yeah." C.J. was looking up at me, making actual eye contact, his mouth slightly open, as I worked us together. I continued like that for a few moments more as he lay there passively, the proverbial dead fish. I took his hand and drew it up to our smooshed together boners.

"Come on, man, don't make me do all the work."

He gripped us, and the feel of another's hand on me, where no touch other than my own had been since summer, sent an almost violent shudder of pleasure up through me, like an electric wire deep inside my being crackling and sparking back to life.

I began withdrawing my cock from his grasp, and then sliding it back in. My body wanted to thrust, and I put my hips into the inward movement. His released his own cock from his hand and gripped me tighter. A long, low moan escaped from deep within me. I was getting off on how C.J. was watching me work, studying my cock pumping into his fist, then up at me. I put one knee between his thighs and pushed his left leg to the side, then I did the same to his right, and got myself between his legs, so I could thrust more forcefully. He didn't object. It was pleasurable, but fucking his tight dry fist was also slightly painful and I felt no danger of cumming anytime soon. I lowered myself down towards him, my upper body braced up on my arms. I thrust and moaned my gratification.

"Do you want to do that to me?"

"What, you mean change places?" I figured he meant getting on top of me and doing the old in-and-out with my clenched fist. Well, at least he'd be doing something more than just lying there like a stiff.

"No, I mean, do THAT to ME. Like for real."

I stopped thrusting. "What, you mean fuck you?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"For real?" I asked. "Wow, man, if you don't have much experience with other guys, that's kind of jumping into the deep end of the pool. You have to get used to it. It can hurt."

"I done it before," he said, defensively.

"OK, well... if you're sure you want to," I said apprehensively.

"You don't?" He asked, betraying a hint of petulance.

"What, are you kidding? Of course I want to!" Fortunately I still had a few condoms stuck somewhere in my bedside table drawer, along with a bottle of lube I'd been making good use of solo. I got them out and squeezed lube into my hand.

C.J. was still on his back, legs parted, as I knelt next to him. I slicked up his hard-on and gave him a few tugs, to keep him excited. I left a slippery trail as my fingers traveled lower, until my forefinger came to rest on his asshole. I played with the outside pucker, gently touching, to get him used to the sensation and ready for insertion. He lay perfectly still, arms by his side, his blank gaze up at the ceiling. It was sort of...creepy.

"Uh, it might be better if you rolled onto your stomach." I instructed.

Without a word, he obeyed. "Lift up," I told him, and slipped a couple of pillows under him to get his ass higher up. I resumed the slippery work. "I'm gonna try to push in a little now. Tell me if it starts to hurt." I squeezed more lube into my hand, and began wriggling my forefinger inside him. It went in surprisingly easily. I guess he HAD done this before.

"OK with this?" He tensed up as I spoke, his sphincter constricting tightly around my finger. Apparently talking to him was off limits, too. "You need to relax, pal, or this is never gonna happen." The tension inside lessened, and I went on with finger fucking him, squeezing more lube onto his hole and working it in, to get him well greased for action. Now for two fingers-still seemed OK.

After a few more in-and-outs, C.J. broke the silence. "Come on already, man, just do it."

Oh, brother—this was not the stuff of fantasy. I used my slick hand to get myself hard, and then with much effort, opened the condom wrapper and rolled it on. "You need to spread your legs farther apart," I told him. More silent obedience. I got between his thighs and spread apart his ass cheeks. Even the hair hidden inside his ass crack was orange. In spite of the definite lack of passion, this was still beyond words.

The wrapped, slicked-up head of my cock pressed against his little pink pucker. His hole was so tight I was reticent to push as hard as I would need to get inside, because I knew it would hurt. My entire being was on fire to fuck him, but the always-tricky act of penetration was even more frustrating with him. The resistance of his body to open up to mine was making my dick hurt as I tried to push in.

"Just relax," I told him. I could tell he was clenching up, which was going to make it impossible to get inside him—at least not without considerable pain, for him and me both. Slowly, with some patience and a lot more lube, I managed to get the head of my cock, and then going very carefully, about a third of my shaft into him.

He took a sharp hissing intake of air, sucked between gritted teeth, and made a strangled cry.

"You OK?"

"Yeah," he said in a quavering voice. I knew he wasn't.

"Do you want me to pull out?"

"Yeah."

I did, and worn out from so much work for so little, flopped onto my back beside him. My erection had almost completely deflated, and my horniness was dwindling. I pulled the loose condom off my now soft dick and tossed it onto the floor beside my bed. For a long time C.J. continued to lay on his stomach, face pressed into the pillow. Rolling towards him and putting my hand on his shoulder, I asked again, "You OK?"

C.J. turned over onto his back. He didn't respond or look at me, just stared up at the ceiling in more miserable silence. Totally unnerving.

"You know," I said, "you really have to build up to this, go slow. Maybe tonight we can get off some other way that'll be just as hot, and then if you still want to, maybe we could try it some other time."

"No, no other time. Tonight."

What the fuck was this guy's deal? "Jeez, what's the rush, bub?" He didn't respond.

This was all too difficult, he was too weird, too conflicted about what he wanted but couldn't handle—or something. His physical beauty catapulted me to the highest intensity of lustfulness, but his dour attitude and his mopey passivity were a serious boner killer.

"Christ, you are so fucking serious. Why don't you smile?" Fed up, I pounced on him and started to tickle him. C.J.'s body went completely rigid, but his face was still void of expression. He smacked my hands away. "Quit it."

Alright, enough was enough. "Look, pal," I snapped, shifting over to sit on the side of the bed. "I think it's time for you to go home. You don't seem to be enjoying this too much, and it's starting to be a drag for me, too."

"Sorry," he muttered. There was something like an expression on his face, in his eyes, now, but exactly what it conveyed, I couldn't quite tell. "I'll try to do better, if I can stay," he whispered, and then said, his voice even quieter, "Just don't tickle me again."

Did I want to kick him out, or did I want to let him stay? Both of us were on our backs now, both of us looking up at the cracks in the ceiling plaster, neither speaking. I knew I would have to be the one to break the oppressive silence, so I said, "You know, it's way easier to get fucked if you really want it." C.J. squirmed slightly. "You have to really want that other guy's cock up your ass, and for most people it takes some time to get there."

All he said in response was, "I wanna try again."

"OK, but if we do, this time we're gonna do it like I want. OK?"

He looked over at me. He swallowed nervously, his Adam's apple traveling down his sinewy white neck, then back up. Sexy. My cock started to stiffen back up. "I want to make out, to kiss you, touch you, and it'd be nice if you touched me, too. OK?"

"Yeah." His voice was raspy.

"If I start doing something you really don't like, I'll stop, but give it a chance. OK?"

"Yeah."

"OK, good boy," I told him. "Lie back and relax."

I placed the tip of my forefinger in the center of his chest, barely making contact, and began tracing outwards, where his taught pectoral muscles began to radiate out from the bony flatness of the sternum. I ran my fingers very lightly down his torso, just grazing the skin, with the soft tickle-touch that just borders between exquisite pleasure and feeling like a spider is crawling on your skin. He shivered.

"Alright?"

"Yeah, good."

The red hair on his body catching the light from my bedside lamp was an almost electric orange against the whiteness of his skin. My touch traveled the hills and valleys where his ribs and his abdominal muscles protruded. I lightly circled his bellybutton before my finger began that much long-for descent down the narrow trail of hair leading to his stiffening cock. I paused my descent halfway down, and looking to my touch's imminent destination, told him, "Your red hair is very sexy."

"I've had other people tell me that," he said, sounding self-conscious.

"Well, they had good taste."

Scrutinizing me, he observed, "Your hair's kinda red, too."

"A little," I acknowledged, then nodding down to his hard cock, added, "I guess you've got good taste, too."

He'd denied me long enough. Right before my fingers would have reached his cock, I let my hand travel upwards again, a featherweight touch along his torso to his chest. I leaned in close and brushed my lips very softly against his. C.J. froze up. "Let me," I said quietly, my hand resting on his chest, and tried again. He held his mouth tight and still, indicating his resistance, although I had some intuition that it wouldn't take much for the iceberg to melt. Undaunted but willing to bide my time, I shifted course, moving my mouth to kiss his neck, softly, slowly down to his collarbone. I pressed my lips and tongue to his small, hard nipples. His breathing became rapid, once or twice coming out in audible gasps. His pale skin began to flush pink, both with arousal and the slight abrasion of my five o'clock shadow. Gently, I lifted his arms over his head and licked the wiry orange fur of his pits, detecting a slight trace of muskiness in spite of his recent shower. I stopped to pick a stray hair from my tongue. Time to try again? Letting his arms drop, I grabbed his face with both hands and kissed him hard on the mouth.

Whether out of surprise or desire, his mouth relaxed, his lips parting slightly. I softly held his lower lip between mine, before tilting my head and using my mouth to open his further. The intense focus of my touch shifted now from my fingertips to my tongue as it probed and coaxed. C.J.'s body relaxed, and he made a slight whimpering sound as I kept on kissing him.

"See, not so bad, huh?" I whispered. His lower lip glistened with my spit. I held his face in my hand, and his eyes met mine. His answer was to kiss me back.

"Here, lean in to me," I instructed as I drew him closer and wrapped my arm around him, letting his head rest on my shoulder. I held my palm against his back as his kisses began to match the force and intensity of mine. "You're good at this once you get going," I told him. Already flushed, C.J.'s skin further reddened in a blush. My other hand resumed its exploration, now gliding rapidly down to C.J.'s lower body. I gripped his erection at its base, making it stand straight and tall out from his body. "God, look at what a beautiful cock you have," I whispered, and we both fixed our gazes on it while I stroked him, lubing him up with the freely flowing precum. He moaned and pushed my hand away. "You're getting me too close."

My hand shifted to his hip, and I pushed him flat on his back, our mouths still together. With gentle but firm pressure on the inner part of his upper thigh, I signaled that I wanted him to spread his legs wider. C.J. drew his knees up, his feet flat on the mattress, and opened himself to my touch. My fingers roved over his thighs, moving inward. I cupped his balls and stroked them very lightly with my thumb, not really even touching the skin, just the wisps of hair sprouting there. He shivered again.