Gay sex story : Chapter 2: Kiss and Tell No One
Author’s Note: Copyright 2024. All characters in this story are fictional and are not meant to represent any living persons.
Chapter 2: Kiss and Tell No One
(August 5, 1995)
Later that evening William guided Matt to a dirt side road on the northeast outskirts of Oklahoma City. (William had explained that one should never risk hookups within Edmond city limits, since, if Edmond police caught you, they would report it to OC.) Hookup? Matt’s mind locked on that word and replayed it in a loop while they drove to the edge of civilization (or what counted for civilization in Oklahoma).
Matt turned onto a rutted drive that might have once led to a farmhouse. He parked his Jeep Cherokee, lowered the windows, and shut off the engine—all at William’s direction. William, beside him in the passenger seat, was clearly in charge of whatever was about to happen.
It was a sultry, late summer evening with the faintest whisper of a breeze. The setting sun shot ribbons of purple, orange, and red across the sky. Crickets and cicadas screeched, desperate to mate.
Matt understood how they felt.
“Tilt the steering wheel up to give us more room. Scoot your seat back as far as it will go,” William said.
Matt eagerly obeyed.
“Now, raise your arms and put your hands on your headrest. And keep them there.”
Matt hesitated a moment, but ultimately raised his hands to the headrest. He was curious, though, why he was still clothed. Didn’t the definition of hooking up involve nakedness? And why did he have to keep his hands on the headrest?
William climbed over to Matt’s seat. He placed his knees on either side of Matt’s hips and folded his legs beneath him. In this position he was straddling Matt, his ass just out of reach of Matt’s crotch. He, too, remained frustratingly clothed.
Matt gazed up at William’s large, dark eyes and sensuous lashes.
“Tonight’s lesson is ‘Kissing 101′”. William traced Matt’s lips with a forefinger. “Got it?”
Matt nodded, but truth be told, he thought kissing was highly overrated. Why did people waste all that time slobbering on each other when they could just get to the good stuff? (The reality was that he knew nothing about either kissing or the good stuff.)
William leaned down, closing the distance between them. Matt puckered, expecting lip contact. Instead, William nuzzled his nose. William grinned, pulled back, and spent a minute running his fingers through Matt’s hair, his nails lightly grazing Matt’s scalp, making it tingle deliciously. For the first time in his life, Matt understood why cats purred.
Matt’s eyes focused on William’s lips, which were full and luscious. His mind obsessed on William’s bony ass, which was anything but full or luscious, which somehow made it maddeningly enticing. It hovered just inches above Matt’s bulge. Hookup. That was the word William had used.
Matt was no longer surprised by his desire for this effeminate lanky guy. As they’d sat (as straight guys would do) across from each other in a vinyl-covered booth at Johnnie’s, munching the occasional French fry, William had said a lot of things that made sense. Things Matt was embarrassed he hadn’t thought of himself. Things like: a lot of gay guys would rather make love to their hands, imagining they’re with the perfect guy. Wouldn’t it be preferable to make love with a flesh-and-blood-less-than-perfect guy? And: gay guys didn’t have to play by the same rules as the heteros, weighing down every hookup with the heavy baggage of love and relationships. Hooking up could be for a myriad of reasons: sexual release, friendship bonding, love, or—charity (helping an inexperienced newbie learn the tricks). The longer they had talked, the more bewitched Matt had become by William’s unique combination of features: manly jaw and eyes; delicate, high cheek bones; and pouty lips.
It never occurred to Matt that anyone would consider him a charity case even though he was obviously an inexperienced newbie. He wasn’t cocky, but he wasn’t insecure either. He had good, smooth skin that tanned instead of burned. He was gifted with an athlete’s fine musculature. Girls seemed to find him attractive–judging by all the giggles, batted eyes, and outright solicitations he’d received—but declined. More than one girl had gushed that he looked like Mark Paul Gosselaar (of Saved by the Bell fame). But it was male attention he craved. And to his knowledge the only male to show any interest had been the youth pastor who had groomed him.
And now here was this self-assured skinny kid who seemed to know not only all the ins and outs of gay sex (saying “hookups” plural) but knowing about this country road and avoiding Edmond cops. The most intriguing thing William had told him at Johnnies was that there was a sort of secret gay club at OC! Matt had wanted to know all about it. How many guys were in the club? Did they have, like, club meetings? William wouldn’t say any more other than that he would have to see if Matt checked out.
Matt had no idea what that meant. He had no choice but to play by William’s rules and hope it all worked out. He trusted William. Besides, he was thoroughly enjoying himself.
William pressed his lips to Matt’s, bussing them lightly. He licked Matt’s teeth with his tongue, nudging Matt’s jaw open. Their lips fused. William’s tongue slithered into Matt’s mouth, thrusting, and retreating, twisting around Matt’s tongue.
Matt became acutely aware of his own body. In his peripheral vision he saw tufts of his pit hair poking out of his sweat-stained t-shirt. He felt his nipples hardening, which was a new experience. His cock ached. He wore it tucked down in his boxer briefs, which was fine except in a situation like this where it was straining against the fabric, bent at an uncomfortable angle. He wanted to at least adjust it, but didn’t dare break the rules.
Locks of William’s shiny black hair fell forward, brushing across Matt’s face. Matt panted and moaned. He inhaled the subtle scent of William’s shampoo, probed the slick mysteries of William’s mouth with his tongue.
Until now Matt had been the passive partner, accepting William’s kisses but not really returning them. Not any longer. Something primal kicked in. He licked Matt’s face hungrily, began sucking on his upper lip. He felt pre-cum leaking from his bent cock.
William grinned again. His lips seemed vibrantly pink against his fair complexion.
They kissed a few minutes more, maybe longer. Matt lost track of time as his consciousness gave way to his reptilian brain.
Suddenly William quit kissing him and pulled away.
Matt was confused, even dazed. Then he realized that his hands were on William’s hips. He had broken the rules. He vaguely remembered pawing at William’s ass, desperate to pull it closer to his grinding crotch.
William leaned down and whispered softly in Matt’s ear. His breath was warm and moist, and made Matt even harder. “This is an art form,” William said. “If you want to rut, find a barnyard.”
Matt sighed and returned his hands to the headrest. He was ready to resume kissing.