The Weekender

Chapter 5: Against the Wall

Chapter 5: Against the Wall

Corey has me right where he wants me. I'm pressed against a nearby wall on the dance floor and he has his tongue down my throat and his right palm inside my denim. His other palm squeezes one of my pecs, twists the muscled mound, and rocks my world.

I’m lost by his touch, dizzy, and realize I am no longer in Hiding, Kansas. I’m confused and sated by his a sense of wonderment. I cannot breathe, feel woozy and trapped by his forceful kissing, enjoying every minute of our closeness. My body goes numb except for the excitement between my legs; a c**k that is ready to be licked, kissed, and sucked, greedy for his attention.

He dry-humps my middle, gags me with his tongue, and squeezes a n****e. The guy is totally into me, unable to hold back this public display of affection.

As semen leaks out of my d**k and decorates my white briefs and his right palm, my mind drifts to a single night, eleven years before on Shotner Field. Corey has a two-man tent set up, a flashlight between us to share, two pillows, sleeping bags, a magazine called Wild Guys, and we undress each other. We laugh, drink a bottle of rum that we steal from his Aunt Margot’s wine cellar, and flip through the magazine and grow hard together. Boy n*****s become firm and perspire. And before we know what transpires between us, we kiss without any experience whatsoever and begin to have s*x.

Our youthful voices wind through my skull:

Gage, I brought some lube tonight. I want to try something with you.

Is it going to hurt?

It might sting, but you’ll get off on it.

I trust you, Corey.

I promise not to hurt you.

Then let’s do it, whatever you have in mind.

* * * *

Corey’s tongue pulls out of my mouth and licks my corded neck. His face moves down and over my chest and it meets a n****e, my abs, and the tangles of blond hair that make up the treasure trail on my torso. He attempts to unbutton my longhorn belt buckle, but I pull his hands away. “Not here. Not in front of everyone. I’m a man with manners.”

“You’re in the city, Gage. Guys don’t care about this kind of s**t. In fact, most of them prefer to watch.”

I shake my head and push him away from me. “I can’t.”

Half of me expects him to be pissed off. The other half is glad that he accepts my plea and responds with: “I understand. Some guys aren’t into that. Maybe we can f**k around back in my flat. What do you say?”

“We’ll see what happens.” I wipe spittle away from his bottom lip and brush my hand against my denim-covered leg, removing the spit from my fingers. In doing so, I ask, “Can you get me another drink?”

“Coming right up. What do you want?”

“A beer this time. I’m too butch for your fruity city drinks.”

He nods. “Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be back in a minute.”

Off he goes to fetch me my beer, vanishing in the crowd. I’m left alone for less than thirty seconds when a burly marine finds me against the wall. He has amber-colored eyes, a cocoa buzz cut, a USMC tattoo on his right shoulder, and a bottle of Rolling Rock in his left hand. The dude has a six-four frame, weighs around two hundred and ten pounds of hard steel, and has n*****s the size of New England states. USMC cuddles his chest up against mine, locks his stare with me, and inquires, “Do you want to go back to my pad and f**k around?”

I commend his honesty and straightforwardness, although I feel taken already. I shake my head and reply with: “You’re really hot. A keeper. If I wasn’t with someone tonight I would let you f**k me. In truth, I’m with the owner of this place, who happens to be taking very good care of me while I’m in town.”

“Ian or Corey?” USMC asks.

“Corey Cassidy.”

Speak of the devil. Corey moves up to our twosome and passes me a bottle of Budweiser. He says to USMC, “Ricky, are you hitting on my man?”

USMC raises his right arm, surrendering. He takes a step back and says, “Sorry, Core. My bad. I just thought your dude was hot.”

“I know he's hot,” Corey says. He shakes USMC’s free hand and smiles. “Obviously no damage has been done here. I'll let you live this time.”

“No Fight Club,” USMC says, nodding and smiling.

Before I know it, USMC continues to back away, vanishing into the crowd, and Corey is in my face, kissing me like a real man, protecting what he believes is his.