Page 6 of Taste Test

Don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t all terrible.

Jared could be funny when he wasn’t being a clueless dickhead, and having him around was like having my own guard dog.

People tended to think twice before messing with a house that had six-foot-one of bravado and two hundred pounds of muscle stomping through it.

Plus, his idiotic streak guaranteed I’d never run out of stories to tell my three actual friends.

I hauled myself out of bed and pulled on yesterday’s jeans and a clean t-shirt.

The floorboards creaked under my bare feet as I padded out to the kitchen.

I had just finished making myself some toast and was putting the kettle on to make myself a coffee when I heard movement from Jared’s room.

Shuffling footsteps, then the distinctive sound of someone walking into a wall.

A muffled curse. The bathroom door slamming.

I prepared myself for the inevitable. Hungover Jared was even more self-absorbed than regular Jared, which was saying something.

He’d want sympathy, coffee, and probably a full breakfast, all while complaining about how terrible he felt and how unfair life was.

Of course, this time his best mate shagging his girlfriend in our bathroom probably qualified as unfair.

Not long after I heard the toilet flush, he appeared in the kitchen doorway wearing nothing but a pair of bulge-hugging briefs, legs covered in bruises and one ankle still taped from last week’s game.

His dark-blond hair was sticking up at odd angles, and there were pillow creases on one side of his face.

“Coffee,” he said, as if it was a medical emergency.

I spooned instant coffee into two mugs and waited for the kettle to finish boiling. “Did you sleep well?” I asked.

He grunted and slumped into one of our mismatched kitchen chairs. “Pretty good,” he said, “for a guy who busted his girlfriend sucking his best mate’s dick.”

“Sort of, then?”

“Sort of what?”

“Sort of slept well.”

He shot me a look that could’ve curdled milk. “She swallowed, Casey. I walked in just as she was finishing him off. So no, not really a great night’s sleep, all things considered.”

The kettle clicked off and I poured the boiling water into both mugs, stirring until the coffee dissolved.

I handed one to Jared, then grabbed my own along with my plate of toast and sat down across from him at the table, processing what he’d just told me.

It was worse than I’d thought, not just the cheating, but the timing.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “That’s rough.”

“What are you apologising for? You’re not the one who sucked Connor’s dick.” He took a quick sip of his coffee before adding, “Though I bet he’d let you, if you asked nicely.”

“I think I’ll pass, thanks.”

He looked at me with that expression he got when he had particularly juicy gossip to share. “I’ve never told anyone this because he was my best mate, but he lent me his laptop once last year and I accidentally saw some videos in a folder I wasn’t supposed to.”

“And?”

“And there was gay porn on it. Tonnes of it.”

“Connor has gay porn on his laptop?”

“Well... not exactly gay, but close enough. Pegging videos. Heaps of them. Dudes getting absolutely railed by women with strap-ons.” He took another gulp of coffee. “Makes me wonder what else he might be into, you know?”

The thought of Connor, a ginger-haired farm boy slash butch rugby player, getting off to being fucked was unexpectedly arousing, but I kept that revelation firmly to myself.

“I know you’re angry right now,” I said, “but I don’t think going around telling everyone what your best friend jerks off to is the sensible option.”

“ Former best friend,” he corrected.

“Okay. Former best friend.”

“And I’m not telling everyone. I’m telling you.” His baby blues glinted with trouble. “Anyway, it’s got me thinking that maybe there’s an opportunity here.”

“What kind of opportunity?”

“Think about it. He betrayed me, right? Fucked me over in the worst possible way. So maybe it’s time someone fucked him over.”

“I know you’re pissed off, but don’t go planning anything stupid.”

“My plan isn’t stupid.”

I gave him a sure-it-isn’t look and waited.

“Hear me out,” he said. “Connor’s obviously into the idea of getting fucked, right? So why don’t you give him the real thing? Proper cock instead of some plastic substitute.”

I stared at him. “That’s your brilliant revenge plan?”

“You could fuck him for me. Like, properly fuck him.”

“What the hell, Jared?”

“I’m serious. You stick your dick in blokes’ arses all the time.”

“I think you might be wildly inflating the reality of my sex life a bit.”

“You know what I mean. It’s not like it’d be a huge challenge for you.”

“This still doesn’t make any sense.”

“Look, you fuck him hard, right? Fuck him until he’s begging for mercy, fill him with so much cum he’s farting spoof for weeks. Make the bastard remember what it feels like to be on the receiving end.” His voice had gotten darker, more vindictive. “As payback.”

“Firstly, that’s fucked up even by your standards. Secondly, absolutely not. Thirdly, that’s not how revenge works, you psychopath.”

“Why not?”

I took a deep breath like I was dealing with a mildly dense child. “Assuming that porn was even his, that doesn’t mean he wants a real dick in his arse. And even if he did, then you’d just be giving him what he wants.”

“You’re right. Fuck it.”

I wondered if the easiest solution to heal his pain was the one thing I didn’t want: him and Jess getting back together. But it wasn’t about me, so—

“Look, I know how much you liked Jess,” I said. “Maybe if you call her, you two can work things out. Mistakes happen, right?”

“I don’t want to talk about Jess.”

“Okay. Fair enough.”

“She’s a bitch.”

“Right.”

“And Connor’s a fucking snake.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Six months I was with her, Casey.” His voice warbled. “Six fucking months.”

Oh god, is he going to cry? Please don’t cry.

I braced myself for the emotional shitstorm that was surely coming. The tears, the declarations of love, the whole “how could she do this to me” routine. I was already rehearsing my “there, there” speech when he blindsided me with:

“I wouldn’t have minded so much if he’d just fucked her.”

What?

“But this...?” Jared shook his head. “He got something I never got. Six months of dating and she wouldn’t even consider it, but one night with cuntface Connor and she’s going down on the ginger prick like a bloody porn star.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“You heard me.” He ran his hands through his hair, making it stick up even more. “Six months of dating, and she never once went down on me. Not once. Said it wasn’t her thing. Said she didn’t like it. Said maybe someday when we were more serious.”

“Let me get this straight,” I said, trying to unravel the complex dynamics of breeder dating rituals. “You’re not mad that she cheated, you’re just mad that she sucked him off?”

He nodded. “What’s wrong with my dick, Casey? Seriously, what’s wrong with it?”

“I... what?”

“What makes one dick better than another? Why would she choose his over mine?”

“I don’t think it works that way—”

“And another thing,” he continued, apparently on a roll now.

“She swallowed. I saw her swallow. She fucking swallowed his cum like she was knocking back a tequila shot, but she always said that was gross. Said it was degrading.” His voice went up to a mock falsetto.

“‘ No self-respecting woman would do that, Jared. It’s disgusting, Jared. You piss out of that thing, Jared. ’”

“Maybe you should—”

“My dream, Casey. My actual fucking dream is to have a girl swallow my cum. Just once. Just to know what it feels like to have someone want me that much, you know? To have someone think I taste good enough to swallow.”

He looked at me with anguish in his eyes, and I realised this wasn’t about love or betrayal or even friendship. This was about his ego, his sexual confidence, his sense of himself as this irresistible guy he’d always believed himself to be.

“Umm....” I started, but I had no idea what to say.

“No girl has ever swallowed for me. Not one. Not even when I asked nicely. They all said it was gross, or they’d spit it out, or they’d just avoid the whole thing altogether.

” He waved his coffee mug around, sloshing liquid dangerously close to the rim.

“But you know what? I bet gay guys swallow all the time, right? I bet you’ve swallowed bucketloads of the stuff. ”

“Excuse me?”

“Come on, don’t be shy about it. You must have. It’s probably like saying hello for you people.”

“You people?”

“Gay people. Dick-sucking people. Whatever.”

“Thanks for that enlightening perspective.”

He had the grace to at least look slightly embarrassed. “I’m just saying, you’d know. You’d know what makes some guys more... swallowable than others.”

“Swallowable isn’t a word.”

“It is now.”

“Chin up,” I said. “You won’t be down for long. No woman can resist a Sutherland man.”

He let out a bitter laugh. “Ha. That’s what my dad always says.”

“I know. That’s where I heard it. Your dad’s been trotting out that line since we were kids.”

“Yeah, well, apparently he forgot to mention the fine print,” Jared said, slumping further into his chair. “Terms and conditions apply. Offer void where girlfriend prefers ginger best mates.”

“Your dad’s not wrong though. I’ve seen how many girls flirt with you in town. You could probably have any girl on campus if you wanted.”

“Could I? Because it doesn’t feel like it right now. My dick may as well be laced with cyanide since no one wants to swallow what comes out of it.”

“I don’t think the problem is your dick,” I said.

“Then what is it?”

“Maybe she just didn’t want to do it with you specifically.”

“But why? What’s wrong with me?”

The honest answer was that nothing was wrong with him physically. The problem was everything else about him: his ego, his assumptions, his inability to see past his own needs.

But I couldn’t exactly tell him that.

“Maybe,” I said instead, “it wasn’t about you at all. Maybe it was about Connor.”

“What do you mean?”

“Maybe she’s been wanting to do it with Connor for a while. Maybe last night was just her chance.”

“But why him and not me? I can tell you for a fact my dick is way nicer than his. Connor’s cock curves to the left like a fucking question mark. Seriously, all the guys in the locker rooms used to call it ‘the boomerang.’”

“Your teammates name each other’s dicks?”

“Not name them exactly. More like... observations. You spend enough time in changing rooms with the same group of guys and you notice things, you know? Like how Tommy’s got that hairy mole on his arse, or how Big Mike isn’t big where it counts.”

“And this is normal conversation for you lot?”

“Pretty much. Gay guys must do the same thing, right? Compare notes?”

“We’re usually too busy actually using our dicks.”

He laughed. “Fair point.” But then his expression darkened again, the brief moment of levity fading. “Still doesn’t explain why she’d choose the boomerang over my perfectly straight, perfectly proportioned cock.”

“TMI, Jared. TMI.”

“What? It’s true, my cock is perfectly proportioned.”

“I’m not having this conversation.”

Jared got the hint and finally shut up. He sat hunched over his coffee, staring so hard into the mug I half expected him to start reading tea leaves about his romantic future.

Meanwhile, I went back to eating my toast, trying not to think about all the dick-related imagery floating around our kitchen.

Ironic, really, considering how much I usually enjoyed thinking about dicks.

“What about yours then?” he asked, breaking the quiet. “Do you have a pretty cock?”

I nearly choked on my toast. “What the hell, Jared?”

“I’m just curious. You must know if you’ve got a good one or not, right? Do guys tell you? Like, do they compliment your dick?”

“We are absolutely not discussing my penis over breakfast.”

“Why not? We’re flatmates. We should be able to talk about anything.”

“There are limits,” I replied. “And that is one of them.”

“Come on, just tell me, is it bigger than mine?”

“How the fuck would I know how big yours is?”

“Fair point. What if I showed you?”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

“Then you can also tell me how swallowable it is.” When I scowled, he dissolved into chuckles. “Come on. Just a quick look.”

“The last thing I need right now is you dropping your pants at the dinner table.”

“What? I’m not gonna drop my pants or anything. I was just gonna show you a picture on my phone.”

“No.”

“Come on. It won’t take long. I’ll go grab my phone right now, I’ve got a few good shots. Different angles and lighting. You can give me your professional opinion.”

I stared at him for a long moment, processing the absolute insanity of this conversation. Here was Jared Sutherland, rugby god and walking wet dream, asking his gay flatmate for dick reviews like he was seeking a Yelp rating.

“That’s it,” I said, standing up and grabbing my coffee mug. “I’m done with this conversation.”

“Where are you going?”

“Literally anywhere else.”

“Casey, wait—”

“Nope. Not happening.” I headed for the door, shaking my head. “I draw the line at becoming your personal cock consultant.”

“Oh, come on!” he called after me. “Don’t act like you don’t wanna see my dick. I bet you’ve been dying to.”

I paused in the doorway, turning back just long enough to say, “Jared, if I wanted to see your dick, I would’ve looked during one of the seventeen thousand times you’ve wandered around here in nothing but a towel.”

“But those don’t count! Those weren’t proper viewings!”

“There’s no such thing as a proper viewing!” I yelled back, already halfway down the hall. “And stop shouting about your dick before the neighbours call the police!”

“It’s a really good dick, Casey!”

I didn’t dignify that with a reply. I just kept walking, telling myself this was the price you paid for cheap rent and a hot, deeply idiotic flatmate .