Cue the hand on Matt’s shoulder.
Matt turned to see a tall guy standing there smiling down at him. The guy was probably in his mid-twenties, twenty-seven Matt would later learn.
“Matthew,” William said, nodding towards tall guy. “This is Vincent.”
“You can call me ‘Vince’,” the guy said to Matt. He had a deep, sexy voice. He pointed to the lipstick smear on Matt’s chest. “I believe that’s my mark. I always mark my property.”
Matt recognized Vince’s eyes. He was Bella without her makeup or costume—or more accurately Bella was just Vince’s drag persona. And, minus the 3-inch heels and 18-inch wig, Vince was a manageable height.
Cue the song “I’ve Had the Time of My Life.” The last song in the movie Dirty Dancing.
Vince took Matt’s hand, much as Patrick Swayze took Jennifer Gray’s in the famous “Nobody puts Baby in a corner” scene. Coaxed Matt out of his chair.
Pulled Matt close to him, with his hand on the small of Matt’s back. Gazed into Matt’s eyes for the opening lyric “I’ve had the time of my life, Though I’ve never felt like this before…”
Took Matt’s right hand, clasped it. Moved his other hand up to Matt’s shoulders and maneuvered him through a head and shoulder roll during the lyric “Yes it’s true, And I owe it all to you…”
Moved behind Matt and caressed a hand down Matt’s face and chest, stopping at his hip during the female vocals “Yes I’ve had the time of my life, And I owe it all to you…”
The audience began clapping in rhythm with the beat.
By the time the song ended, Matt was swooning over Vince. Would have borne his children had that been an option. Eagerly followed him to his room (south-facing second floor, overlooking the parking lot, which was its own swarming meat market.)
Vince hurriedly closed the room’s curtains, explaining to Matt that open curtains/lights on signaled the guys in the meat market that you wanted company. Someone always came knocking.
Here they were in the shower, one of those hotel tub/shower combos made to accommodate one normal-sized adult. Not roomy enough for a 6′ 5″ personal trainer (Vince’s day job) AND a 6’1″ college soccer player. Nor were they sober enough to manage the logistics, there being a bottle of vodka in the room, and their having had a shot or two already.
They didn’t know much about each other beyond first names and the fact that both were horny.
There was a quick inventory of condoms. Matt had three. Vince had four. Both wanted to top. Vince suggested they flip-fuck. He figured they could top three times each before the 11:00 a.m. checkout time. If one of them wanted more than that, they could arm wrestle to see who got the coveted seventh condom.
Matt agreed to flip-fucking. He was a reasonable guy, willing to compromise, especially when tipsy. He agreed, though, while they were still clothed. Agreed without having seen what it was exactly he was consenting to let penetrate him.
H-O-L-Y S-H-I-T!
Matt had no idea cocks came in that size. Length and girth well past the Kraken, which until that moment was the biggest cock Matt had ever seen. (Being a Church of Christ kid, Matt’s immediate frame of reference was Numbers 13:33. The Israelites, spying on the people of Canaan, had seen their first giants—Goliath’s ancestors. The Israelites’ takeaway was that they felt like grasshoppers compared to the Canaanites.) Matt understood the sentiment.
He had cock envy in terms of wishing he packed such a monster. He had trepidation in terms of letting that thing anywhere near his hole.
Still, a deal was a deal. Matt and Vince stumbled into the shower. Fumbled first kisses. Slowed down and merged their mouths while warmish water rained down on them.
report Soaped each other up.
Matt liked the heft of Vince’s pendulous balls. Lathered them up and kneaded them clean. Decided they needed another go. Liked the way Vince’s cock showed its appreciation for all the ball-kneading, the way it swelled up and bobbed.
Vince cleaned his lipstick from Matt’s pec. Washed Matt’s hair and sculpted it into a sudsy mohawk. Gave Matt’s pubes a matching ‘do.
And, since this was a flip-fuck situation and both were eager to move on to the fucking part, at one point each had a soapy finger inside the other. That may have been what caused them to tumble sideways, pulling the shower curtain down, landing in a soggy heap on the bathroom floor.
They scrambled to the bed.
Vince toweled Matt dry, then licked his nipples until they glistened with saliva.
Vince positioned Matt face-down on the bed, arranged a pillow under his hips, then crawled in between his spread legs.
Vince started with Matt’s taint. Licked it. Nuzzled it. Took long, deep laps of it with his tongue.
Matt squirmed with pleasure. Spread his legs further. Relaxed his glutes as Vince prised them apart and worked his tongue towards the hole.
Matt yearned to play with his cock. Wanted to stroke it while Vince tongued his hole.
He couldn’t reach his cock, though. It was trapped beneath him. And, besides, he needed to save his spunk for Vince’s ass, the whole flip-fuck part where Matt would get to top.
This was a night of many firsts for Matt. First-time being buzzed, which unmoored his inhibitions and set him adrift on a sea of bliss. First-time being rimmed, which probably wouldn’t have happened without the buzz. Matt would have been too worried about odors or even dingleberries. Would have been twisted up in his own mental baggage about masculinity, worried that he was losing his by being “the girl.”
First-time with a complete stranger. Matt had had sex with five other guys. All of them were his fellow students at OC, fellow members of their little fraternity, the Gay Mafia. Trusting Vince, whom Matt had only just met, whose last name Matt didn’t even know—trusting this stranger to lick his way inside him, required a new level of courage.
First-time with condoms, which was both scary and exciting. Condoms were the necessary evil that offered a frontline defense against the death sentence that was HIV-AIDS. That was a sobering thought.
Vince used the considerable strength of his arms to spread Matt’s ass cheeks wider. Worked his fingers into the crevasse. Pulled at the edges of the hole. Stretched it. Licked and teased it.
“Let me in,” Vince whispered. “Relax.”
Matt felt a wet, slick thing slither into his sphincter, flick the inner skin.
It was an intensely intimate feeling, this first tongue inside him. Kind of a Neil Armstrong man-on-the-moon moment. Matt giggled, not certain whether it was because of the whole moon/mooning connection or because Vince’s tongue tickled inside him in a rutty way.
Not for the first time that evening was Matt glad he had a buzz.
Matt’s head was on the bed, his vision restricted. He sensed Vince’s reaching for something, heard lube being squirted, felt a finger ease inside him. Finger and tongue were both in there now, probing.
Matt moaned.
“Keep your head down. Arch your ass up,” Vince coaxed.
Matt did as instructed, assumed this most-vulnerable of positions: head down, arms stretched to support and balance the head, legs bent and splayed, ass arched upward, inviting penetration. Matt was trussed for spit roasting. All that was lacking was an apple in his mouth.