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How can this not be gay?

My eyes flit between Rowan’s lap and the serenely wanton look on his face. He licks his lips again, and I can’t help imagining what that tongue might feel like licking at the tip of my dick, tasting my pre-cum and telling me if he likes it or not. I hope he’d like it.

The truck fills with the scent of our cocks and all the heat and fluid that comes with. Rowan’s heaving kicks up to rapid, and his abs tighten intermittently. His eyelids slouch as he moans curse words under his breath.

As beautiful as his chiseled jawline and his furrowed brow are, I glue my gaze to his lap, so desperate to watch his cock erupt that I’m squeezing my cockhead just to keep from blowing first.

His knees spread wide, and he presses the back of his head to the headrest, eyes slipping shut. “Fuck,” he moans, stroking harder and faster.

Yes.

I stroke harder and faster too. I keep time with him as best I can, trying to time this perfectly.

“That’s it,” he breathes while my mind tells him,come for me.

The second Rowan turns his head and sets his eyes on my dick, I can’t hold it anymore. My balls tease up and my cockjumps in my hand, spurting gobs of cum all over my bare chest and abs. Through dazed, half-lidded eyes, I watch a stream of fluid spill over Rowan’s fist from the little slit at the tip of his plump, purple cockhead.

We stay like this for a while. Not sure how long. Eventually, Rowan takes his hand off his cock and grabs his shirt from the floor. He wipes the spunk off his hand and dick with it then tosses it to me. My mind is too mushy to think to do anything besides scrub it across my body, cleaning up some of my jizz while leaving some of Rowan’s behind. Before I can finish, Rowan is out the passenger door and pushing it shut behind him, leaving me to stew on this development alone while an ad for life insurance buzzes from the radio.

8

Rowan

I’m not ghosting Tommy. Swear to God. It’s just that, every time I try to come up with something to say to him, in text or in person, I find myself needing more time.

It’s been three days since we jerked off together, and I can’t stop thinking about it. Too stuck in the memory to consider damage control, so I abscond from Tommy. Not on purpose. I just don’t know what else to do. He texts me, and I don’t know what to say. He asks if we’re meeting up, but I’m not ready to face him yet.

The fact he’s still speaking to me should be a positive sign. If I were a more optimistic person, I’d focus on that. Tommy never mentions what we did in his truck, so it’s safe to say he’d be cool with pretending it never happened. I’m not sure I can.

The past two nights in a row, I haven’t worked out at all. Just laid up in bed, signed into Grindr and letting any dude within a 25-mile radius proposition me. A few gym rats twice the size of Tommy sent pics of their monster cocks, telling me they’d like to split me in two.Hard pass.A lot of older and probably married men wanting to come over and exchange blowjobs. Last night, some flamboyant muscle daddy offered to pull up and suck my dick in his Porsche. Didn’t even want anything in return. It’s the only offer I seriously considered, but the dirtytalk was enough to get me off solo, and I fell asleep with the app still open.

This coming weekend, I decide I’ll finally pull the trigger and pop my gay cherry. Not sure I’m ready to fuck, but a no-strings-attached blowjob is sounding more and more like exactly what I need.

Until then, I burn away my desires at practice, at the gym, and at the pitch behind the Psychology building.

I don’t invite Tommy to the scrimmage tonight, but I brought him to the last five. Every Thursday at seven. It shouldn’t surprise me when he saunters up fifteen minutes til.

“Tyson!” Levi hollers, jumping up to clap Tommy on the back.

Tommy grins like he’s into the nickname, and he huddles with some of the guys, catching up like they’re all good buddies now. It makes me wonder if Tommy is texting with them all, maybe hanging with them when he’s not with me. Would he tell them what we did? What I instigated?

His head turns, eyes landing on me for all of a moment, and the pensive look on his face has my stomach in knots. I haven’t eaten enough the past few days, but I’ve forced down the protein shakes and hard boiled eggs, and I had half a pre-packaged salad for dinner.

When it’s time to hit the field, Tommy jogs straight to me, finds my gaze and asks, “We good?”

It’s the last thing he texted me too.Hey, are we good?Now, I tell him what I should have texted back.

“Of course. Why wouldn’t we be?”

He still has my shirt. The one I wiped my cum onto. I guess I should forget about it, because asking for it back would only lead to questions from Tommy, likewhy did you do that?

I’m off my game. Partly because I’m as mentally fatigued as I am physically, but it’s also because whenever Tommy gets within a few yards of me, my heart feels like it’s going to explode. In a twist of things, I have my shirt on and Tommy is bare chested. Broad, smooth, and pink from heat and exertion. Every time he knocks into me, I think about how his balls filled my hand, and I want to grab him again, this time with nothing between my skin and his.

A small cluster of girls walk by the sideline, and they’re staring. I can only assume they’re staring at Tommy, since he’s the most beautiful guy here. Dude could be an underwear model, or the star of some cringe teen soap opera. He’s got the soft floppy hair, the blue eyes and plump lips, and abs that would probably turn me gay if I were ever straight to begin with.

“Hey, Rowan!” one girl calls out.

It takes my mind farther off the game, because now I’m looking at them and wondering if I’ve met any of them before. A couple wave at me, and I wave back.I don’t fucking know.