The Dairy State Boy, A Follow Up

Late morning, we went for a long walk along the lakefront. At times, it was all I could do not to take his hand in mine.

That afternoon, Josh watched football while I daydreamed, comparing Josh's so-called enlightenment with Kip's. In Josh's world, the other person didn't matter at all, the gender of the person irrelevant, no meaning desired or required. In Kip's world, the gender of the person was also irrelevant, but it was the meaning that rendered it irrelevant.

"Does your wife know?" I asked, slipping back into reality.

"Does my wife know what?" he asked.

"About your worldview?"

"Of course."

"Does she agree with it?"

"I don't think agree is the right word. But, she gets where I'm coming from. There are times when she wants to make love. There are also times when she just wants to fuck. She sees the difference."

"So, you don't always disassociate."

"I don't always do anything."

* * * * *

That night, I braised pork chops, poured wine, and sat across from Josh as we ate, leisurely and at peace, his "enlightenment" bouncing around in my head like a Superball.

"What?" he asked, quelling the ball.

"Is there anything you want me to do that I have not?"

"Seriously?"

"Seriously."

"I'd like you to blindfold me, tie me up, and then do whatever you want to me."

"Whatever?"

"Whatever."

"I thought you liked to be in control."

"I want to know what it's like to have no control whatsoever."

We went to my bedroom. I sat in the chair and watched him undress. He took his time, his comfort palpable.

"I love how you watch me," he said. "I can taste how much you want me."

I twitched at his confession. He reinforced for me the difference between need and want; to need someone, you need love; to want someone, you need only lust.

When he was naked, he flattened himself in the middle of my bed, his arms together over his head and his legs spread wide. I used striped ties to bind his hands together and to the headboard, to bind his ankles to separate bedposts, and to blind him. I covered his ears with headphones, classical music playing to drown out whatever noises I would make. I wanted him to have no idea what was coming.

I did everything I wanted to do. I explored the front of him from head to toe, my tongue in his armpits, my lips on his nipples, my mouth around his fingers, my mouth around his balls and dick, my tongue where his legs met his pelvis, my my mouth around his toes, my tongue between them.

At my request, he had stopped manscaping. His chest hair was fuller, and his bush had thickened and held the smell I liked so much from a man.

When I had issued my request, he had objected that his wife liked him "tidy." I figured he would choose her over my request. He didn't.

I straddled the front of him. I forced his mouth into the crack of my ass. I slapped his face with my dick. I slid between his pectorals. I slid my erection against his. I buried the head of my dick under his scrotum and thigh fucked him. I sucked his dick until he came in my mouth. I don't know why, but I then let was in my mouth slide off of my tongue and onto his. He swallowed before whipping his head away and bellowing "Fuck! Was that my fucking cum?" I didn't answer. I just watched him shake his head and use his teeth to clean his tongue.

I moved to the chair and just sat and watched him.

"Kevin?" he asked. "Are you in here? I can't hear or see a fucking thing."

I didn't acknowledge him or his inquiry. He had asked to be stripped of control, and I was going to strip him.

"Kevin?" he repeated, his voice raised.

I sneaked to the foot of the bed. I licked the bottom of his left foot. I then moved over and licked the bottom of his right foot.

"I'm going to untie you, roll you over, and then re-tie you."

"Okay."

When I had, I repeated what I had done to the front of him. I chewed on his heels. I licked behind his knees. I buried my tongue in his ass. I bit his ass cheeks. I licked up the middle of his back. I nibbled his shoulders.

I pressed my dick between his cheeks. I knew he wouldn't be able to resist. I was right. He arches his hips, opening his ass to me.

I sheathed myself, lubed us both, and took my time fucking him. I was as deep as I could get. My hands were in his. My arms were on his. My chest was on his back. My legs were on his. My toes were entwined with his.

I laid there electrified, every part of me that could touching every part of him. When he used hips to try to get me to move, I resisted. When I coudn't resist any longer, I raised up on my arms and fucked his hot ass as hard and as long as I could.

He moaned his acceptance and resistance. When I stopped, he begged me to restart.

"Tell me what you want," I said.

"I want you to fuck me," he answered.

I gave him what he wanted. There was nothing in the room but two people fucking.

* * * * *

I was surprised to wake up to Josh's mouth on me. I propped my head on my pillow and watched him. I liked watching my dick get sucked.

"I'm close," I said when I was, honoring his "don't come in my mouth" routine.

He raised his eyes to mine, wrapped his hand around me, and kept sucking. Our eyes went wide as I came in his mouth, the first time I had ever come in his mouth.

He didn't swallow. He sucked me dry, then pulled off and walked to the bathroom and spit my load into the sink or the toilet, I'm not sure which.

"Well, that was a nice way to start the day," I said, after he had climbed back into bed and I moved between his legs to return the favor.

"It's Sunday Funday," he answered.

"What should we do on Sunday Funday," I asked, my tongue lapping at the wetness in the slit of his glans.

"So.... I'd like to spend Sunday Funday like this," he said. "In your mouth. You eating my dick and swallowing my nut. Actually, I'd like it to be Dick Suck Sunday, not Sunday Funday."

We did exactly what he wanted. I sucked his dick in the bed, in the shower, at the breakfast table, on the sofa, against the island, on the balcony, anywhere and everywhere. He'd come, I'd swallow, he'd force me off because he was too senstive, I'd get back on, he'd get hard, and the cycle would start all over.

I stopped to make a light dinner. He hid himself in shorts while I did.

"You havesucked me soft," he said, wrapping his arms around me from behind.

"I know," I said. "I'm pretty full."

He slid his hand into my shorts and found my erection.

"I'm going to jerk you off," he whispered in my ear. "While you cook."

He did just that, his left hand around my stomach as his right hand slid and twisted until it coaxed a load onto the front of my oven. It always surprised me how much better the hand of another felt than your own.

"Fuck," I said.

"Never underestimate the power of a good handy," he said.

We retired early, Dick Suck Sunday having exhausted both of us. Josh was on his back, his arms behind his head. I was on my side.

"I have to leave early tomorrow morning," he said.

"I'll eat your dick before you go," I promised.

"Why don't you eat it now?" he asked.

"Are you hard again?"

"I can be. That way, I can fuck you in the morning before I go."

"Can we try something?"

"Sure."

I laid on my back and hung my head over the edge of the bed. Josh straddled me, pushed his dick down my throat, and fucked my face.

"Christ," he said. "I have never been this far down a throat. You havegot my whole dick."

I knew what I had. I could feel him in my gullet.

It surprised me when he came, as he hadn't been pounding my mouth for long.

It surprised me more when he dropped onto my dick and made me come, again in his mouth.

It surprised me most when he didn't head to the bathroom, but instead swallowed what I had given him.

"How was it?" I asked, when we were back on our pillows.

"Terrible. I don't know how you eat that shit. I almost puked."

"I love it," I said. "I don't know how you don't."

The next morning, Josh pinned my knees against my chest, held my feet against his chest, and fucked me while he stood at the edge of the bed. By the time he finished, my legs were cramping and my ass was wide open. When he had finished, he again took me in his mouth and, when I was finished, swallowed my load.

When I expressed my surprise, he repeated his mantra: "I'm not an asshole."

* * * * *

Valentine's Day, we had a similar weekend. It was Cora's birthday, and her mother took her downstate to celebrate it with her grandparents.

Until I got Josh's text, Thomas and I were supposed to spend a "Lonely Hearts Weekend" in Milwaukee. Once I got Josh's text, Thomas and I were on thin ice.

"FY" he texted, in response to my tardy "Sorry, but COP."

"INY" he texted moments later, before I could respond. "Josh+NSA=Jilted."

He's pique annoyed me. We were forever friends, but we had never been possessive. We indulged each other, the last minute "fortunate fuck" always easily and readily forgiven.

I buried my annoyance, apologized unreservedly, and prepared for a rarity: more than a wham bam with Josh.

"You're ridiculous," I said, taking the heart shaped box of chocoloates and mocking him for bringing them. We were in an Indian Summer, and it was a balmier Friday night for February.

"They are a joke," he said.

"I know."

"Let's walk."

We did, south to Goudy Square, east to the Concrete Beach, and then north to Burton. It wasn't a long walk, but Josh surprised me by taking my hand south, east, north, west, and south again. It made me more uncomfortable than it should have, but not enough that I pulled away.

When we had made our way back to the house, we were both chilly.

"I'll build a fire," I said.

"Come on baby light my fire," he sang.

"Oh my God," I answered, "I think I blew my first load thinking about Jim Morrison."

"The time to hesitate is through.... It's time to wallow in my mire," he sang, pressing his hands against his crotch to show me what he thought his "mire" was.

He had the lyrics wrong, but the intent was clear, and I was into it.

He continued singing and tried to move like Jim Morrison. He had a decent voice, but no moves.

I sang and moved along.

"Our love became a funeral pyre, come on baby light my fire, come on baby light my fi-ire...."

"I have been told I look like a bald Jim Morrison," he said, laughing and flopping into a chair once our song was over.

He was ridiculous. Jim Morrison was all about his hair. A bald Jim Morrison was a sheared sheep.

Still, I googled Jim Morrison and... Holy... Shit. Josh was Jim Morrison, without the flowing curls.

We called it our 60s weekend. We listened to the Doors and the Stones and Janice and Jimi and fucked and fucked and fucked.

"Why are you back?" I asked when I awoke on Saturday, the morning still wrapped around us.

"Well... I like the way you eat my dick. No one has ever eaten it like you do. I like that you let me nut in your mouth. That's hardly ever happened, and it never happens with my wife. I like that you eat my nut. And, I like that you don't pester me for anything when we are done. You're not a puppy. You don't follow me around. You're okay when I nut and bolt."

I had nothing to say. All he had said was accurate and true. And, it reiterated that he came back for him, not for me.

I was fine with that. I didn't want more than he was offering.

"What's your favorite way to do it?" I asked that evening, when we were in bed and he asked if he could fuck me.

"The way we usually do it.... You on your back, me on my knees, your legs open... It's my favorite way to fuck. It's called the Eagle or the Hero, depending on where I put my knees."

"Or the Bandoleer or the Crossed Keys," I thought to myself, and then that thought launched a thousand ships.

"So," I said, "let's google the 100 positions of the Kama Sutra and work our way through them."

"In," he said.

We started with the Bandoleer. After all, it was first.

"Talk to me," I said. "Tell me how I feel."

"You feel so fucking good," he said. "You're so tight.... I love fucking your ass.... Do you like when I fuck your ass."

"Yes."

"Tell me."

"I like when you fuck my ass?"

"Do you want me to fuck it harder?"

"Yes."

"Tell me. Beg me to fuck you harder."

"Fuck me harder," I demanded as he grabbed my hips and slammed in and out me, his body slapping against mine.

"Oh my God," we both said, in unison, the bed shaking under the power he was exerting over me. I was reaching for him, but I don't know why. I didn't want him to slow down or stop. He was hitting my prostate, and I was almost delirious with pleasure.

"Harder," I insisted.

He -- finally -- moved over me, his hands beside me so he could use them for leverage, my knees tucked in his arms, my legs spread wide. I was helpless, he knew it, and he ravaged me, the slick and wet sound of his dick pistoning in out of me drowning out the bouncing of the bed.

"Oh fuck," I said, the head of his dick pounding against my prostate as my toes curled, my feet cramped, my balls clenched, and my cum shot from the head of my dick like a fountain. "Ahhhh," I growled as I blacked out, at least for a moment.

"Ahhhh," he echoed, as he drove his dick into me as hard as he could and then erupted, his orgasm coating my canal as my body went complete, totally, utterly flaccid. I was spent.

The next morning, Josh woke me with his erection, his head pressed against my ragged hole.

"No fucking way," I said over my shoulder. "After last night, I think that door is going to be closed for a long, long time."

"Oh, was I too much for you?" he asked, nuzzling his head into the back of my neck.

I grabbed his dick. "Not too much," I said, mocking his averageness. "Too hard. Way... Too... Hard."

"You wanted it harder."

"I did. But, sometimes, there are consequences when you get what you want. And, this morning, I'm feeling the consequences. I'm lost, at least back there."

"Well, if we can't fuck, maybe we can do this..." he said, re-routing me and pressing his lips to mine.

"Goodness," I thought to myself. "This is a whole new ballgame."

"I have been practicing," he said, when I asked why that kiss was so much different than the prior kisses.

I wanted to ask "with whom?" But, I didn't want the answer. If it was his wife, I didn't want to know. And, if it was someone other than his wife, I really didn't want to know.

I took the high road. "It shows," I said, before allowing his mouth to meet mine and his tongue to engage mine.

The kissing rejuvenated me. "Okay," I said, "fuck me."

"You want it?"

"No, I need it."

I braced myself against the wall and arched my back, and Josh entered me from behind, as we scratched "From Behind" from our list. When sore, "From Behind" was my favorite position, as it allowed me more control.

Josh took me slowly and steadily, like he was being careful with me. When he was finishing, he bit my shoulder. When he was finished, he slid his arm around me, took me in his hand, and jacked me to orgasm, my dick so hard and the release so strong that I cried out, craning my neck so I could place my mouth on his.

"I need or want to tell you something, I'm not sure which," he said, as we lounged in bed in the after.

"Shoot," I said, trying to be casual.

"You're no longer my only one. Mel and I had a three way with a friend of hers. And then another with a guy I know."

"Were you safe?"

"Yes."

"Did you like it?"

"Kind of, I guess. As a precursor, Mel wanted to watch. It was clear he wasn't comfortable or knowledgeable. It was also clear I was and did. Mel and I have not talked about it, but the 'Josh has man-sex' cat is pretty much out of the bag."

I was totally jealous, which bedeviled me. I feared I was getting the feels for Josh.

"What all did you two do?" I asked.

"We kissed. We groped. We jerked. I sucked him and let him fuck me. I watched him fuck Mel. I tried to fuck him while was fucking Mel and he was like 'no no no'. I tried to get him to suck me while he was fucking Mel, but he wouldn't."

"It does not sound like he'll be back."

"I'm not sure. He was into fucking me. And he was totally in to fucking Mel."

"You didn't need to tell me."

"Maybe not. But, it felt like I did."

* * * * *

When Josh was dressed and ready to leave, I walked him to the door.

"I don't think we should do this anymore," I said, embracing him.

"Really? Why not?"

I couldn't tell him. I could not give him the power of knowing I was starting to miss him and need him and, well, love him.

"We're ripe. We should stop before we rot."

"We could try friends without benefits."

"No, Josh, we can't. Sex with you is incredible. Now that I know that, there's no way I can be around you and not have you. It'd be like putting ice cream in front of a kid and then telling him he can't eat it."

"I get it. It's the same for me. I get hard just thinking about you.... So this is it?"

"This is it."

And that, as they say, was that.