Cocklust Ch 04

When I went home that weekend, I felt like my world had turned upside down. I tried to put a good face on things, so I didn't say a word to my parents, or to anyone else for that matter. But the truth was that Chad had totally thrown me for a loop. I'd never felt so strongly about anyone— much less a dude— and I didn't know what to make of it.

I tried texting Chad, and I messaged him on Facebook, but he never responded. I tried calling him too, but he never picked up, and he never called me back. I ended up having to keep all my thoughts to myself.

The most awkward part was that all my friends and family wanted to know how I'd been. It was my first time back from college, so everybody wanted to see me, and of course they all had a million questions. I didn't want to deal with that right then, but there was no way around it. I didn't want them to think I didn't have my shit together, and I definitely didn't want to tell them I was gay or bi or whatever I was. So I just went through the motions: I smiled and nodded and acted like everything was fine.

I did my best to distract myself with work. I had an internship with my dad's firm, so I basically spent my days answering phones, scheduling meetings, and all the other crap you do in an office. But it was a nine-to-five job, so I still had evenings and weekends to myself. No matter what I did, my urges wouldn't go away; I kept having more and more sex dreams, night after night.

Eventually I broke down and downloaded Grindr. I didn't actually hook up with anyone, because I still wanted to meet up with Chad. But I did spend a lot of time checking out my neighborhood's man meat. I was amazed at how many gay guys there were. I definitely hadn't known about them in high school, yet here they were, one profile after another.

My own profile was as anonymous as I could make it. I called myself RJ630, which was the vaguest name I could think of, and I used a picture that only showed my chest. I never posted anything that could be traced back to me. I did get responses, and I chatted with a few dudes here and there, but I never had the balls to meet up.

At the same time, I watched an awful lot of YouTube. I found a bunch of guys who'd been vlogging about their experiences— some more anonymous than others— and the more I got to know them, the more interesting they got to be.

One guy named Ayden chronicled the ups and downs of his life, including the dates, fantasy crushes, and full-on boyfriends he'd gone through. Another guy, who called himself the Hillbilly Homo, talked about growing up gay in the South. Then there was a couple named Nick and Jay, who kept traveling the world; their channel was full of fancy landmarks and exotic locales, with a bunch of shirtless clips thrown in for good measure.

I also started following gay celebrities online. I'd heard of a few of these guys in the news, but this was the first time I'd really checked them out. I'd never realized how hot Ricky Martin was, or Matt Bomer for that matter— or Lance Bass, Dustin Lance Black, or Jonathan Groff, just to name a few. I found myself starting to fantasize about them: I imagined them with their men, and how they probably had sex. I also started following some not-so-gay guys, like Zac Efron and Channing Tatum, for the sake of the eye candy.

All that stuff fed my jerk-off habits. I had my bedroom to myself, which was way more comfortable than my old dorm room. But it was also less private: I did have a lock on my door, but my mom didn't like me using it, and I didn't want anyone hearing me anyway. So I always made sure to listen for footsteps, and I was always prepared in case someone surprised me.

My sister was the main person I was worried about. Her room was right to mine, and she was a night owl just like me. She was the nosiest person I'd ever met, and worse yet, she was a blabbermouth. I knew I could never give her the slightest inkling of what was going on. If Amy figured me out, then the whole world would know, starting with my parents. I couldn't imagine them all knowing I'd taken a liking to dick.

After three weeks of that shit, I knew I had to get out of there, at least for a while. As soon as I got off work that Friday, I hopped on a train and went all the way to Boystown.

I'd always thought of that place being weird, probably because of how my friends made it sound. But when I got there that day, I felt like I was seeing it through totally new eyes. I didn't know my way around, and I definitely didn't know what I was doing. But it seemed like a place where I could hang out and be myself— or at least so I hoped.

There were more gay bars there than I knew what to do with. They all had rainbow flags and shit in the windows, but I could only imagine what was inside.

I walked up and down the street, trying to gather up my nerve. I was afraid of getting carded, since I was still underage, and I couldn't afford a fake ID. Most of all, I dreaded the thought of running into someone I knew. I tried to tell myself everything was cool, but I was still on pins and needles.

I eventually went to a place called the Meatpacking Plant, where they let me in without batting an eye. It took me a second to get my bearings: the space was a lot bigger than it looked from outside, and a lot of it was dark. The dudes inside were in all shapes and sizes. The bartenders were all shirtless, and they were damned good looking. A half-dozen go-go boys were dancing on the stage.

I didn't know what to do next, so I just sat at the bar. The menu was basically shit: the food was just snack stuff, and the drinks were mostly cheap beer and cocktails. Not that I could afford much anyway, and from what I could tell, no one came there for the food or drink to begin with.

"What's good here?" I asked to the guy sitting next to me. But he didn't answer. He was playing with his phone, swiping through profile pictures. He looked up at me, swiped left, and looked away.

What the hell?

I thought to myself. I wasn't sure if that was how it was there, or if that guy was just an asshole.

The bartender walked up to me. "What'll it be?" he asked.

"Uh," I said, "I guess a Sex on the Beach?"

"You got it," the bartender said, and he started making my drink.

I turned around and watched the go-go boys onstage. I was so used to checking out men in secret that I felt weird doing it in plain view. I kept having to tell myself that in a place like this, it was fine.

The dancers were gyrating all over the stage, dressed in nothing but g-strings. They waved their bulges and asses at the crowd, while the people in the front rows stuffed money in their thongs.

I had to wonder if these guys were all gay, because a lot of them didn't look it. I wondered if at least a few might be doing it for the money, like those gay-for-pay people. One way or another, they were putting on a good show: they were basically strippers, and they seemed totally into it. I couldn't take my eyes off them.

The bartender slid me my drink, and I turned to pick it up. As I did, I noticed a dude near the end of the bar. He looked like a total manly man, with a tank top that said in big letters "Sorry girls, I'm gay." I suddenly realized he was checking me out.

I wasn't sure what to do next. I sipped my drink and looked in the other direction. The guy on his phone had finished swiping; I had to wonder if he'd found the hookup he'd been looking for. A few feet away, two guys were busy flirting, and they looked like they were about to make out. Another man was just nursing his drink and staring at the stage, as if he was transfixed by the dancers. A bunch of others were just wandering around.

Finally the dude in the tank top walked over. "So," he said, "what's a cute thing like you doing here by yourself?"

I didn't know how to answer. I was tempted to say I'd just gotten out of a relationship, but I wasn't sure where Chad and I really stood, and I didn't know if we'd had a relationship to begin with. "W-well," I said, "I guess I'm here for the same reason you are."

"Atta boy," he said. He waved to the bartender. "Hey Fitz, put his drink on my tab."

"You don't have to do that," I said.

"I know," he said as he sat down beside me. "I'm Gabe by the way."

I almost gave my real name, but I went with my online alias instead. "R.J.," I said, and I shook his hand.

"Cool," he said. "So what does R.J. stand for?"

I felt a pang of fear. Those initials were totally random, so they didn't stand for anything. I blurted out the first thing that came to mind. "Rick James," I said.

"Rick James? No shit!"

I suddenly felt like an idiot, but I tried to play it off as best I could. "You see why they call me R.J.," I said.

"Yeah, I guess," he said. "But you gotta admit, it's kind of badass. You could totally say 'I'm Rick James, bitch!'"

I didn't want to embarrass myself any more than I already had. I just shrugged and sipped my drink.

"So R.J.," he said, "what do you like to do with a guy?"

I was caught off guard by that. I wasn't used to being open about sex, at least not like that. I was used to girls wanting to beat around the bush. "O-oh I dunno," I finally said.

"I'm a bottom myself."

I nodded. "That's cool."

"Are you a newbie?" he asked.

I didn't know what to say to that. "What do you think is a newbie?"

"I dunno. Maybe ten guys or less?"

"Shit," I said, "then yeah, I guess I'm a newbie."

"With a body like that?" he asked. "Well then, what's your type?"

"My type?"

"What kinds of guys do you like?"

"I mean," I said, "well, you're not bad looking—"

"I wasn't fishing for compliments. I really want to know."

I fiddled with the coaster in front of me. "Well... I-I mean I like muscles I guess...."

"It sounds to me like you need a good teacher."

"You mean like you?"

"I guess you could say that," he said with a grin. Then he pointed to the stage. "Which of those guys do you think is the hottest?"

I turned around and tried to figure out what to say. All the guys on stage were about the same type. They were all in their twenties, and their bodies were oiled and ripped. "I mean, they're all hot," I said, "but I guess the one on the right is the hottest."

"That's cool," Gabe said. "Me, I like that guy in the middle. The one with the arm tattoo. I could totally hit that."

I sipped my drink. "Yeah, me too," I said. I still felt a little out of my depth, because I'd never talked that way about guys. But the more Gabe and I talked, the more comfortable I got; and of course the drinking helped too.

"Do you live around here?" Gabe eventually asked.

"Oh no," I said. "I-I mean, I'm just visiting."

"That's cool," he said. "Me, I live right around the corner. It's so nice being able to walk here—"

"So you come here a lot?"

"I try to," he said. "But some nights here are more fun than others." He leaned in toward me, and the next thing I knew, we were kissing.

I suddenly felt self-conscious again. There were dozens of people around us, yet here we were, locking lips in front of all of them. I was so used to being secretive with Chad, that I almost thought it was scandalous to do this in the open. But as far as I could tell, nobody here gave a shit.

Gabe finally broke the kiss and whispered in my ear. "Do you want to get out of here?"

I couldn't say yes fast enough. I finished my drink, and he closed out our tab. Then I followed him home, and less than five minutes later, we stumbled into his apartment. We plopped down on his couch, ran our hands across each other, and made out some more.

"Your

back is so tense," he said between kisses.

"I know," I said. "It's been a long week."

"Then let me take care of it," he said.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Trust me," he said. He pulled my shirt off and threw it aside. Then he reached for a cabinet and grabbed a jar of massage oil. "Here, lie down."

I did as I was told. The couch was surprisingly comfortable. This wasn't cheap student furniture like what I was used to; it was a fancy leather sectional with a very nice throw. Gabe didn't seem much older than me, but he obviously had money, not to mention taste.

Gabe climbed on top of me, rubbed the oil on my back, and started kneading me. He started between my shoulder blades, then made his way toward my arms.

I was surprised by how good it felt. The oil smelled really nice, and it made my whole back feel warm. Gabe zeroed right in on the knots in my muscles, and he started working them out. It hurt for a second, but the more he worked out the tension, the more pleasurable it got.

We both still had our pants on, but I could totally feel Gabe's hardon grind against my ass. It was such a fucking turn-on, and it made my own dick press harder against the couch.

Gabe reached underneath me, undid my fly, and pulled off my pants. Then he kneeled next to the couch and started massaging my legs.

"Oh shit," I said, "I fucking needed this...."

"I could tell," he said as he ran his hands up my thigh. "I need it too." He pulled off my underwear and kneaded my ass. He squeezed each cheek, one after the other, then ran his hand down my crack. I kept waiting for him to play with my hole, but he didn't.

"You fucking tease," I said.

"That's the idea," he said. "Now roll over."

I complied, and my dick flopped into the open. By now I was hard as a rock.

"Nice," Gabe said.

I was itching to see Gabe in his full glory, but he was in no rush. He leaned down and started sucking my nipples. He rubbed himself as he did it, but he wouldn't let me touch him. Finally he kissed me and stood up. At long last, he pulled down his pants, and I saw he wasn't wearing underwear.

His cock looked totally different from Chad's. Gabe had shaved his pubes and his chest hair, so he looked even more naked than what I was used to. He was also uncut, though he was so hard that it was almost impossible to tell. I also noticed how his dick curved a little, unlike Chad's which was straight as an arrow.

"So," he said, "do you like what you see?"

"Fuck yeah," I said.

Gabe

smiled, and without another word, he started sucking my cock. He obviously knew what he was doing: he was totally deliberate with his lips and his tongue, and it drove me fucking wild. Every time I moved or let out a breath, he knew exactly what it meant, and he responded accordingly.

Eventually he let my dick pop out of his mouth. "How does that feel?" he asked.

"Fucking incredible," I said.

Gabe reached back for his cabinet, and as he opened it, I saw he had a whole set of sex supplies ready to go. He pulled out a bottle of lube and set it on the table. Then he pointed to a half-dozen boxes of condoms. "What size are you?" he asked.

"Size?" I tripped over my words at first. "Uh, I dunno, I mean I guess whatever... don't you just have condoms in your own size?"

"Oh no," he said. "I never do the fucking. I just want to get fucked."

"Say what?"

"I told you I was a bottom. Actually, power bottom is more like it."

"Woah," I said. I didn't want to tell him that I'd only been with Chad. I'd definitely gotten to like bottoming, but I couldn't imagine doing just that.

"Are you saying you don't want to fuck me?" he asked.

"I didn't say that." I pointed to the condoms. "Let me see those." As I did, I felt an awkward blast from the past. I'd used the same brands about a year before, when I'd been fucking my ex-girlfriend.

"What's wrong?" Gabe asked.

"Nothing," I said. I picked out a condom that I knew would fit, pulled it out of its wrapper, and rolled it onto my cock.

Gabe

lubed up his ass, then he offered me the bottle. His lube was totally different from what I was used to; it seemed a lot more watery at first, but it was also a lot more slippery, and it seemed weirdly oily. "Now lie back down," he said.

I did as I was told. The blanket was surprisingly soft. Gabe climbed on top of me, then lowered himself onto my cock. I felt myself slide right into his chute; he seemed to fit me like a glove. The next thing I knew, his ass was resting on my pubes.

The way the couch was positioned, I could barely move, so Gabe was in control. He clamped his ass down on my dick and started rocking back and forth. He didn't bother talking dirty, but I could tell how much he was loving it. He closed his eyes and curled his mouth into a smile. He kept grunting and moaning as my dick pumped deeper and deeper inside him.

We started out kind of slow, but then Gabe picked up the pace. There was nothing delicate about sex with this guy: he obviously wanted to get pounded, and he kept thrusting faster and faster. Before I knew it, we were fucking as fast as we could.

I almost ran out of breath, but then Gabe started slowing down, and we went back to more of a steady speed. Gabe ran his ass in kind of a circular motion, and I felt my dick exploring his insides.

I looked into his eyes, and he looked right back at me. Both of us were obviously savoring the sensation. Then, a few seconds later, he started speeding up again.

Gabe's dick was tantalizingly close to my face, and I wanted to suck it, but it stayed just of reach— at least for my mouth. So I did the next-best thing and ran my hands across his shaft. It took my hands a second to match up with his rhythm, but once they did, I started beating him off like nobody's business.

Gabe leaned down and kissed me. "I want you to take me from behind," he said.

We both stopped fucking for a second, then changed positions. Gabe got down on all fours and stuck his ass out at me.

His half-fucked hole looked delicious, and I couldn't wait to dive back in. I got on my knees behind him, ran my cock up and down his crack, and finally pushed my way inside.

Gabe's ass went back to slamming against my pubes. I felt like I was losing my virginity all over again. Gabe wasn't just an inexperienced college kid getting off. He was a fucking expert at this. I loved how unapologetic he was: Gabe wanted my dick, and I wanted his ass, and his mission was to give both of us what we wanted.

Even in this position, Gabe was the one in charge. He kept thrusting his body against me, while he guided me with his left hand and jerked himself off with his right. He was working so hard that he was getting more exercise than I was.

Gabe's body started tensing up, and I felt his sphincter clamp down on my cock. His groans went up in pitch, then finally reached a crescendo, just as his jizz splattered onto his blanket. His body was spasming so much that I could totally feel his orgasm inside him.

I knew how much cum I had pent up myself. I knew I couldn't hold out much longer, and I didn't even try. I gave him a couple more thrusts, but I could already feel my load moving up my pole. Then I yelped and blew my load inside him.

I could barely control myself. My nerves were so active, I could feel my juices pouring out of me. Gabe kept working my cock the whole time, which felt so fucking good.

Finally I finished pumping, and I tried to catch my breath. Gabe pulled forward, and my dick popped out of his ass. My condom was so full that it barely stayed on.

"Now that's what I'm talking about," Gabe said. He stood up and gave me a kiss.

I plopped back against the end of the couch. As I did, Gabe pulled up the cummy blanket. He tossed the blanket into his bedroom, where a laundry hamper was waiting.

"You can throw your condom over there," he said, and he pointed over at a trash can.

"Wow," I said. "You've got this down to a science, don't you?" I opened the trash can, and as I did, I saw a bunch of other condoms lying inside.

"What can I say?" Gabe said. "I like sex."

Part of me thought that was weird, but another part thought it was hot. I wondered how many other guys had paraded through that apartment.