Markwildyr.com, Post #260
Image Courtesy of Vecteezy:
Well, did hunky Bunny turn out okay?
* * * *
COMING OUT IS THE PITS
What is it with this “coming
out” crap anyway? It took eighteen years to come out to myself, and only then
because this jock cornered me in the upstairs stacks of the school library. My
stomach dropped nervously, but my toes curled in excitement when he took what
he wanted. When I accidentally—kinda—saw him again, I figured he wouldn’t want
anything to do with me, but I was wrong. I got a kick out of reducing that macho
hunk to absolute putty. After that, the die was cast.
Eventually, I came out to
my best friend and lost a lifelong buddy. My big brother called me a snot-nosed
pansy and threatened to beat me to a pulp. My mother cried herself sick, and my
father swelled up like a puff adder. At that point, I shut down the “coming out”
process.
My parents sent me to an
out-of-state university rather than the local community college, probably to
get me out of their hair. My name, by the way, is Quentin Utley Ramson, and if
my initials didn’t clue my parents, they aren’t the bright folks the neighbors
believe them to be. So far as I’m concerned, there won’t be any “coming out” at
the U. That’s over. Kaput—except—well, there’s this guy I sorta like. My
dorm mate.
Carlton Easton Eaves
isn’t the snob he sounds. He puts his pants on and laces his sneakers all by
himself like one of the masses. He moves well in the pool, plays a mean set of
tennis, and probably polos okay, too. But he rides rodeo, and that’s a plebeian
sport if there ever was one. We’ve gotten pretty chummy, and that brings me to
the nub of my present problem.
East asked me to double
date with him tomorrow night. Damn! Why can’t we just go to the movies
together? Why mess it up with a couple of girls?
“Hi, Ram,” he said,
materializing at my side on the quadrangle. That was something else I liked
about him, he calls me Ram, which sounds—well, studly. The main thing I dig
about East is his six-foot, tapered frame with lean hips and a groin to go down
for! Of course, his corn-colored hair and curious blue eyes and broad, laughing
mouth and bronze skin are considerations also. Why the hell he bummed around
with olive-skinned, brown-eyed me, I hadn’t figured out yet. I had quickly learned
to avoid the shower room like a vat of acid when he’s in there lest I make a
fool out of myself. There’s more than one way of coming out, you know.
“Got a date yet?” he
posed the dreaded query.
“Maybe you better get
somebody else to go with you,” I blurted in a moment of weakness. “I don’t know
any girls yet.”
“No, way! Get a date. It’ll
be fun. Catch you later!” He gave me a manly punch on the shoulder and peeled
off for his own class.
Mary Quadrill, the girl
who sat beside me in Freshman English, was handy, so I blurted out an
invitation just as the class settled into the pre-lecture silence.
“Well, Miss Quadrill,
please give Mr. Ramson your answer so the class can turn to more mundane
affairs,” our prof said dryly.
My ears were aflame, and Mary’s
cheeks looked like Bette Davis’s in Whatever
Happened to Baby Jane.
“Uh—yeah. Yes, I’d like
to go,” the poor girl stuttered.
Despite that promising
start, things went downhill from there. The movie was okay, but cost too much. My
arm went to sleep over the back of the seat, and afterward, we went to a beer
joint. Frankly, I’m not accustomed to drinking.
When we left the bar, East
parked on the bluff above the reservoir and turned to his girl, a blonde named
Bunny or Billie or something like that. It wasn’t long before they slid down
out of sight, and I was alone in the back with a girl.
We smooched, and to my
surprise, I worked up a little steam while listening to the noises from the
front. Mimicking what I thought was going on up there, I dug one of Mary’s
boobs out of her brassiere and, ignoring her protest, went for the nipple like
a newborn babe. I’d just glommed on to the pink little thing when she twisted
my ear painfully. My cries of “Oh—oh—oh!” went nasal when she got my nose
between two fingers!
“Behave now?” she
whispered in a lady-like snarl.
“Yeah—yeah!” I whimpered,
nodding my head and earning more pain. The pressure was suddenly released, and
I straightened up to rearrange my clothing and dignity. Shit! It wasn’t right;
paying with an earache for something I didn’t enjoy. Mary was restoring her tit
to its proper place when East popped up and grinned at me knowingly. Hell’s
bells! He’d hit a home run, and all I got was a sore nose and bruised ear.
I expected a karate kick
to the groin when we took the girls to their dorm door, but she claimed she’d
had a good time and said we’d have to do it again.
East was restless and
drove around for a few minutes until he found a place to take a piss in the
bushes. I wanted to go hold it for him, but couldn’t get up the nerve. I
fingered myself through my trousers while watching his broad back and trim
butt—a mistake because I had to work hard to hide a horrendous bone when he got
back in the car.
“Man,” he moaned as he
slammed the door. “I hurt! Haven’t had a nut ache in years.”
I jumped in surprise. He hadn’t made it with Bunny or Billie.
“Lucky dog. Mary’s pretty
foxy,” he went on, tearing me away from his nut ache and the mental image that
conjured. “At least you’re not in my shape.”
He thought I’d made it
with Mary! What the hell made him believe that? Probably those “ohs” and
“yeahs” I gave while in Mary’s painful embrace.
I forgot forswearing “coming
out” and all that crap and blurted what was sitting right there on the tip of
my tongue. “I-I, uh, could help you if you’re suffering that much.
“You’d do that for me
even—you know—even though you made it with Mary?”
“Hey, man, what are
roomies for? Gotta take care of one another.” Brave words, but my insides were
fluttering around like crazy.
“You sure, Ram?”
Not about to let this
opportunity get away, I reached over and touched him where it counted.
He leaned back in the
seat and breathed an “ahhhh.”
I told my fingers to play
it cool, but they jerked at his belt so hard, he finally pushed my hands away
and freed himself. My dreams were fulfilled when he was exposed to my eyes.
Rigid, rampant, and ready.
I stroked him for awhile
bringing little moans and groans out of him, but before long I lost control and
did what I wanted. “East,” I said, “this is only for you.”
With that, I lowered my
head and was rewarded with the biggest groan of the evening. He enjoyed my ministrations
for a few minutes before speaking.
“R-Ram, uh, why don’t we
go back to the room. We—oh, man, that felt good—we can get naked and go to bed.”
I came up like a shot. “Deal.”
I had to keep telling him
to slow down on the race back to the dorm. Not that I wasn’t in a hurry, but I
damned sure didn’t want a cop to stop us. Writing a ticket and suffering his
lecture would’ve cost too much time.
And when the door to our
dorm room closed behind me, Carlton Easton Eaves stripped me naked and
inspected every inch of my body before shoving me down on the bed. Then he and rode
me like the rodeo champ he was.
I get the
feeling that Ram’s “coming out” was finally successful. What do you think?
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