I slammed the door of Danny's apartment then stopped cold and just stood there. My body was shaking and my hands trembled as I wiped the moisture from my eyes.
Geez, I thought. Why do so many people assume that I'm gay? I don't act gay!
Even the few times I went to bars to try and pick-up girls, men would hit on me while the women ignored me. I was never rude to them - I would politely say "I'm not that kind of guy," and they'd leave me alone.
What is it about me that makes people think I'm gay? It's very frustrating!
I heard the outside door open and the laughter of two girls as they entered the far-side of the building. My heart began racing: it was Jennifer with her roommate, Katy. I suddenly forgot all about my encounter with Danny.
Luckily, my erection had subsided, but I was all too aware of the semen stain on the front of my slacks. I walked toward them with one arm dangling in front of me hoping my hand would cover the problem.
When Jennifer saw me she waved and called out "Hi John" and flashed that big, beautiful smile of hers. Without thinking, I waved back using the hand that was hiding my problem. I quickly lowered my arm; I didn't think she saw anything.
When we were face-to-face she asked "Why are your eyes red?"
"Oh, uh, something got in my eye-I guess I rubbed them too hard."
"Want me to take a look?" she asked.
"No, uh, thank you - I think it's gone now."
We were standing beside their apartment door and Katy excused herself and went inside.
We made small talk for a few minutes then she said: "I really enjoyed our lunch the other day - and all of our conversations at the pool."
HOLY CRAP! Was she hitting on me?
I blushed and stammered: "Yes, uh, I, uh...I've had fun, too!"
"You know, it's not too late if you want to hang-out for awhile," she said in her soft, sexy voice.
"I dunno, I have to get-up awfully early in the morning..." I said without thinking. I chastised myself the moment I said it.
"I've got a bottle of wine here if you want to go inside and 'talk'...don't make me drink it by myself, John, okay?" she winked as she motioned to my door, across the hallway from hers.
The way she emphasized the word 'talk' left little doubt in my mind of her true intentions. She smiled when she saw the look of surprise on my face.
I hadn't noticed she was carrying a bag. I tried to stay calm. "Y-Yes-that would be great! I mean, yeah...it'd be fun."
I fumbled for my key and opened the door.
"Welcome to my humble bachelor pad," I said as we went inside.
I kept thinking of the stain on my slacks and did the best I could to keep my back to her.
"Uh, make yourself at home-I want to change clothes," I announced.
"You look fine, John - you don't have to do that for me," she said.
"Well...I spilled something on my slacks at dinner-I'll be right back," I said and hurried to my bedroom.
I practically tore-off my pants and briefs. I used the backside of the briefs to wipe the sticky pre-cum from my crotch and penis.
She called out: "Do you have a wine key? I'll open the bottle while you change."
"It's in the drawer by the spice rack," I shouted.
I found clean briefs and a pair of beige shorts and quickly dressed. I looked in the mirror and combed my hair and almost ran to the living room to be with her.
I saw a glass of red wine on the coffee table; she was walking around the room examining the very few possessions I had. She held her glass in one of her dainty hands.
"You know," she said. "I don't think I've ever seen a guy's apartment this clean...I mean, it's spotless!"
"Thank you," I said. "Uh, I guess my mother taught me well."
I sat on the sofa and drank some wine to try and settle my nerves. When she finished looking around, she sat beside me, very close.
"Where did you have dinner?" she asked.
"At, uh, Danny's place," I replied.
She scrunched her pretty face and shrieked, "Oooo - yuck! Why would you eat with him?"
"He, ah, he did me a favor," I said, and I explained what happened to my car.
"He's a very strange man...you know he's queer, don't you? Rumor has it he was butt-fucking the little fairy who used to live in 3-C."
"No - no, I didn't know that," I stammered. "He's treated me okay."
She took my wine glass from me and placed hers and mine on the coffee table. My heart was pounding so hard I wondered if she could hear it.
Her hand began stroking my hair. I turned to face her; she leaned-in and our lips came together in one long, sweet kiss. My head began to spin and I closed my eyes.
Her lips were softer than either Tracey's or Amy's. When I felt her tongue dart in-and-out of my mouth I groaned and used my tongue the same way. We came together in a hotly-passionate embrace. Her breasts crushed against my chest.
When we broke for air, she smiled and asked: "What did you spill on your slacks?"
"Huh? Oh, uh, we had spaghetti-I spilled some sauce on myself," I quickly lied.
"Johnny," she said sweetly, "...that wasn't spaghetti sauce I saw on the front of your pants..."
My face turned beet-red; I didn't know what to say.
She smiled and pulled me close and we kissed. Suddenly her hand found my leg. She lightly stroked my thigh beneath the pant-leg of the shorts.
The heat and passion from her kisses and her hand lightly stroking the bare flesh of my thigh should have been driving me crazy with lust but something was terribly wrong!
I was fully aware my prick was not cooperating; the darn thing should have been hard as a rock, but, no, it just lay limp and listless inside my briefs.
I wondered if she noticed.
She brought her lips to my ear; her hot breath caused the hairs on my neck to stand straight, but my dick didn't even twitch.
She whispered in my ear: "Johnny, you're not queer too, are you? That would be horribly tragic if such a cute and funny and nice boy like you was a fag..."
