Shooting Matt Ch. 05

"It's not just women who are drawn to bad boys, bud. There's something about danger and toughness, even when it's all pretense, that works as a powerful aphrodisiac. That's all."

"Mm, maybe." He fondles my cock a bit more, then takes his hand away. He sticks his thumb and little finger in his mouth. When he's done, the goes back to rubbing his fingers through my hair, but this time lower. His fingers play in the coarse thicket of my pubes. Fuck you, Yoda.

"I think your cock would look hot with a PA," Matt whispers against my chest. "The English major, slash warehouse foreman, slash boxer with a big pierced cock. Hot, bro. Really hot."

Is he testing me, I wonder. Seeing if I'll agree to getting pierced for him? I tell myself to quit being so paranoid. We're just talking.

"Hmm, I might be too big a chicken shit to do something like that. I'm not as tough as you make me sound. In fact, in many ways I'm a totally fucking pussy. Besides," I add after a minute of quiet. "I think there's a long healing process, during which you can't have sex."

Matt tilts his head to look at me. I roll my head to the right to see his face better.

"I thought I was going to fuck you?"

"You are. And I look forward to it." I study his face. "But I'm not a total bottom. I was hoping to return the favor some time. You okay with that?"

Matt rolls onto his other side and lies with the left side of his face on my stomach.

"I've never tried." He looks at me, expression all serious. "What if I can't? What if I don't like it?"

"Then you don't like it," I answer, shrugging again.

Matt frowns. "I don't get the appeal," he tells me.

"The appeal is that it feels fantastic," I reply.

"How?" He appears to be genuinely confused.

I lift my head up to look at him more closely. "Bud, you've never played with your ass?"

He shakes his head slowly.

***

"I thought you said you didn't want me to do this to you because it would be dirty?" Matt whispers.

"I'm not putting my dick in your ass."

"So, what's the difference?" He demands.

"My finger is easier to clean, if you must know."

"I must," he insists. "Dude, I'm not sure about this."

"I know. I see that. Relax though."

I get an idea and slide off the bed. I hold out my hand. "Come on."

I lead him into the small half bath. I haven't heard Liam but I make sure the door opening from the kitchen is locked. I turn on the hot water tap (it takes forever to get warm) and grab a washcloth from the small shelf that straddles the toilet. I make sure the water is nice and warm and wet the cloth and rub soap on it. The cloth is nice and wet, so it makes nice suds.

"Turn around," I instructed.

"Huh? Why?"

I kiss him quick then shake my head. "Why do you think?"

"Uh, I don't know, Randy. I can wash my..."

"So can I, Matt. Relax. Never mind. You don't have to turn around."

I embrace him with my left arm and pull him close. My cock is getting hard again. I'm not sure Matt's ever stop being hard in the first place. Fucking youth. I find his mouth with mine. I kiss him, hard. He responds. I reach my right hand, not worrying about dripping a little water on the tile, around his waist. The washcloth is draped over my fingers. I push my fingers against his crack. I feel his ass tighten and I increase the ferocity of my attack on his mouth until he relaxes.

I work the cloth between his cheeks and rub the soap over his asshole as we kiss. He's rubbing his cock against my belly, a good sign. I push with my little finger, not hard, but the cloth penetrates ever so slightly. Soapy or not, I don't want to push a rough cloth into my young lover's virgin ass. I've accomplished what I intended.

I step away and adjust the water. It's too hot now. I push against the sink. "Scooch past me. Come inside," I tell Matt, who is, technically speaking, more in the bedroom than the bathroom. He does as I ask. I lift up the rim of the toilet. He looks at me and I see both apprehension and confusion in his eyes.

"Just rinsing you off," I explain. "Lean over a little, stick your butt back over the toilet."

"Dude, this is embarrassing," he offers. I hear the discomfort in his voice and recall the vision I had earlier of washing his hair.

"Don't be," I whisper and kiss his cheek. I tell myself that I'm letting this move way, way, too fast. But what can I do? What I feel is what I feel. "I'd love to get you in a big tub, not that sad, decrepit old relic in the bathroom; it's okay for showering but I wouldn't bathe a dog in it. No I want to get you in nice big soaking tub and wash you. There's something very intimate about bathing another person and them allowing you to do it." I kiss his neck again. "Don't be embarrassed."

He tries to smile at me.

I soak the washcloth under the warm water. I hold one hand under it to catch some of the drips and then squeeze it out above the crack of Matt's ass. The fingers of my other hand, swish the water around. And caress his pucker but that, I assure you, is entirely incidental. I do this several times. Matt seems more relaxed with each.

I grab a clean hand towel off the shelf and dry him off

"Come on, lover boy, terrible band by the way." He stares at me. "Never mind, later. Come on." I grab one of his ass cheeks. "I want you back in my bed."

"Like all converts, you've become a fanatic I see," he smirks at me.

"True enough," I concede. I look at him, trying to clear my face of lust. "If this is moving too fast, you have to let me know. Okay?"

"Dude, Randy, I was just fucking with you. I'm nervous as hell, bro."

"Do you want to just lie down for a while? I'm jiggy wit it."

He groans.

"Don't be groaning. How fucking old you think I am? Will Smith is my generation. You're barely old enough to remember him."

"Bullshit, bro. I love Independence Day.

"Matt, how old are you?"

"Twenty, you know that."

"No, I didn't, not for sure." I look at him. "That movie came out the year you were born. I saw it in the theater and I was already married. True, I was too young to be married, only two years older than you are now, but, nonetheless. I was married when you were born. That doesn't give you pause? Seriously?"

He pushes his hardon down until it points at the floor. When he releases it, it springs up and smacks his belly.

"You see any 'pause' in my cock?" He stares at me. "Bitch." He can't do it. He starts to giggle.

"Come on," I tell him, shaking my head but inside I'm singing.

What am I singing? "Moon River", of course. Not, Andy Williams. No, Audrey, from Breakfast at Tiffany's.

I make a mental note to ask Matt if he's seen it.