My Summer of Wes

I didn’t know. How could I? All through high school, I was beaten up and teased for being gay. But I wasn’t gay. Or didn’t think I was. Now Wes, the guy across the street who’s taken me under his wing and been the best friend I’ve ever had, won’t stop invading my dreams, hell, my every waking thought. Am I gay? Because I’m thinking I’d like to kiss him. Actually, I’m thinking there’s a lot more I’d like to do with his mouth and the rest of that tall, confident, muscular body. Ah, man… I’m so gay!

But what if he doesn’t feel the same way about me? And, Jesus, what about my parents? And those bastards from school are still around. And I’m supposed to go to college this fall… Shit, I need to sit down. I can’t breathe and I’m about to shake apart.

Then Wes puts his hand on the back of my neck, gives me one of those encouraging squeezes and his bright smile, and everything’s okay again. Yeah, I’m hooked. Oh, boy…

It was him, and — oh man — how had I not caught on sooner? Just look at him! Tall, broad shoulders, lean muscles, that friggin’ tight T-shirt showing off sculpted pecs and a flat stomach, jeans riding low enough that I could see the top of that fascinating muscle that pointed to his groin. Oh. My. God. I got hard so fast, I felt a little dizzy.

“Anyone else home?” he asked, stepping in, crowding me back.

I shook my head, the blood filling my cock leaving my brain empty.

He grabbed me up and devoured me.

Wow. Just… Damn. And wow.

So this was what it felt like to have someone want me.

I clung to him, holding on to those shoulders and that neck as he kissed me like he was trying to crawl inside me. God. What would it feel like to have him inside me? To have all this strength and maleness wrapped around me, the most masculine part of him thrust deep, possessing me? I moaned into his mouth, his tongue curling with mine, and hauled our hips together, grinding into him.

He lifted his head and sucked in a lungful of air. “Jesus, baby.” He panted, his hand holding me tight and still against him.

Oh. Shit. Maybe that was too much?

Then he grinned at me. “You keep that up, you’ll have me coming in my jeans.”

I grinned back, seriously loving that I got him just as worked up as he got me.

“Oh, you like that idea, huh?” He chuckled, wrapping his arms around my shoulders, a big hand holding the back of my head.

I held him around his waist, playing with the muscles of his back. “Yeah, I do.”

He nipped at the tip of my nose, making me laugh. “I was going to whisk you away for something sticky and sweet at the cafe, but I’m thinking now I might prefer the cream-filled treat you’ve got in your jeans.”

I shivered, pressing in tighter to him, trying to ease the increasing ache of my dick.

He dipped his head, running his lips over my jaw before nibbling on my neck. I was learning that he had a very talented mouth.

“Let me?” he whispered right into my ear.

Oh God, he was really asking to suck me off right here in my living room.

“One condition,” I managed to say through the haze of desire.

He lifted his head, grinning at me. “Name it.”

“I get to do you after.”

He blinked. Then that grin grew bigger. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. I want to know what you taste like, what you feel like on my tongue.”

His hand gripped my hair almost painfully for a moment as his eyes rolled closed and he bit his lip. Oh, hey. Did he like me talking dirty?

“Will the skin of your dick feel soft in my mouth? Is your precum sort of sweet like mine?”

I couldn’t say anything else, because he descended on my mouth again, clutching me hard. He was a little rough, but I felt him shiver and smiled inside because it just felt so good to know he really did desire me.

Finally, when my lips felt all tingly, he lifted his head again. “I always knew I liked your mouth, Mal.”