Nine – Sterling
I knew I was in trouble when Tuesday nights with Garnet weren’t enough. Over the course of a bleak couple of weeks in early January, my one-time escort experiment somehow became a two to three times a week thing. He was becoming an addiction. Try as I may not to, I found myself calling him more and more as the season went on and the demands from the fans versus the demands of the GBC – gubernatorial booster club – became more intense.
The fans wanted us to win. The team wanted to win. I wanted to win. For some reason, the GBC wanted us to muddle through with a mediocre year. In the dark of night, I would lay in my bed, alone, mulling over my options. There weren’t many. Extricating myself from the situation seemed impossible. The pressure grew with every game, weighing me down more and more. We had one game left to play, and that would probably cement us into a fourth place position in our conference. The Colts could have done better. We had the skill. Sadly, we also had a head coach and a quarterback throwing games.
On those lonely nights when my conscious kept me awake, I tried to imagine what it was that the Bianchi family – everyone in Colchester knew that the Bianchi’s controlled the city from the governor down to the lowliest trash collector or star QB – had on Coach Bergman. I knew what they had on me. My homosexuality. How they knew, I had no clue, but they did. Maybe I’d stared at a man too long and they’d simply guessed. When Morton had asked me upon my arrival if I liked to suck dick, I fumbled the reply, and they had their sword of Damocles. I’d never confessed to being gay, but I had started throwing games the following week. It kept me on the field and out of the spotlight. It also had saved my relationship with my father. The same relationship I’d probably end up detonating. Funny how my priorities had changed once Garnet had entered my life and shown me what true love really was.
Looking at a final home game against Buffalo, we could at least go out with a win. I doubted any kind of orders would come down from above at this point in the season. Maybe tomorrow, we could go play our game the way we should have been playing it all season.
“Hey, are you here with me?”
I blinked dully at Garnet seated across from me. “Sorry, my head was on the game tomorrow.”
I should have been home resting, not holed up in a hotel room, stuffed full of Italian food, with an escort. I should be able to keep my urges in check better. Giving into the need to be with a man had been the catalyst that had thrown me into this place I now found myself. But spending time with Garnet was the only succor I had in my life right now.
“I’m taking that as a personal slight.” He gave me a wink, threw his napkin to the table, and got to his feet. As I sat back, glass of a delightful red wine – also something I should be skipping, as I was playing tomorrow – in hand, he moved around the now familiar room. For a tall guy, he had this sensual, sinuous way of moving. Was that something he’d been born with or something he’d learned as part of his trade? “I’m obviously not sexy enough to pry your mind away from your work,” he said, stepping over his tartan duffel as he shrugged out of the bulky, button-down green sweater he’d worn with some sinfully tight leggings.
“That’s not the issue at all,” I said into my wine, my gaze roaming over his long legs and tight backside. I’d been in that ass several times now. Each time as religious an experience as one of daddy’s sermons. He pouted at me over his shoulder. “Truly, I’m just…it’s been a difficult season.”
He bent over, showing off his ass to perfection, and dug around inside his tote. When he had what he wanted, he turned to face me. My eyes roamed up over his slim feet to his thighs then settled on the outline of his stiff prick. Leggings hid nothing. I was positive he knew that, the tease. My balls felt heavy. My sight moved upward, finally picking up what was in his hands.
“Don’t freak out,” he said, padding over to me, bare feet quiet on the gold carpet. “I thought we could try these out. I’d love to suck you off while these were inside you.” He held up a string of six blue beads, each one bigger than the next. “Have you ever?”
“No, I…no, never. The women I’ve been with in the past were not into such things.”
“Ah, well, not everyone is.” He threw a long leg over my lap, dropping his ass to my thighs. “But everyone should try them at least once. Do you trust me?”
“I’d like to.” He removed my wine glass from my fingers, his lower lip dangling out. “I’m trying, Garnet, I really am. I know there’s a world of gay sexual experiences out there that I’ve not been brave enough to try, but—”
“Hey, no.” He tapped my lips with a finger, his blue eyes sultry and serious. “We all move at our own speed. And, for the record, anal sex isn’t strictly a gay thing. Lots of straight people, including women, enjoy it.” I let that sink in. All of the girls I’d slept with, all four of them in my college years, had lost their shit if your dick slipped out and inadvertently touched the wrong hole. “So, how about we try this? Just once. If you don’t like it, we’ll never do it again.”
He waggled a brow, then took a sip of my wine. My sight lingered on his lips, tinted deep red from the wine. I ran my thumb over his lower lip. His gaze grew smoky. I cradled the back of his head and led his mouth closer. I’d never kissed a man. I’d always thought that caresses, sweet talk, and kissing were strictly for women. They craved that tenderness. Men, especially gay men, were only about slaking desires.
I led his mouth to mine. His breathing was ragged, his body plaint, his cock hard as steel against me. He sat perfectly still as I brushed my lips over his. It was different than kissing a woman, slightly. The rasp of his whiskers and the soft sounds that were flowing out of him were all incredibly masculine. My cock throbbed. I ran my tongue along the seam of his mouth. He gasped, opening slightly, his arms falling to my shoulders, the string of beads tickling my spine. Beads that he wanted to put into me. Into my ass. The thought made me break out in a cold sweat. His tongue darted out shyly to touch mine and I was lost. I pulled his mouth tight to mine and licked at his teeth, then slid my tongue over his. He was a garden of flavors: man, wine, oregano, acceptance. The kisses grew hotter and wetter. Garnet was a live wire on my lap, gyrating his hips, cooing and whispering sweet little things that pushed me past my limits.
“Yes, use those on me,” I panted, then nipped at his lower lip. He shuddered strongly, easing himself off my lap. My eyes darted down to his cock bound in his leggings. There was a wet spot. I wanted to lick that damp mark, suck on it, soak the head of his dick right through his tights. So I did. Garnet whined for more. I slobbered all over him. Then, when I’d had enough of the spandex barring my way, I jerked the leggings down to his knees. He wasn’t wearing any underwear. I lost all reason, then.
“Come to bed,” he crooned, easing away from me, stepping on his leggings to free himself. I rose, my fingers bumbling with the buttons on my shirt. He slipped closer to help. Shirt, tie, belt, slacks, briefs, socks, and shoes were all peeled off me and folded, as he knew I liked them to be, then placed on the dresser. “Come to bed. Lay on top of me facing my feet.”
“Oh, God,” I croaked as he spread himself over the bed.
“Grab the lube, please.”
He could have asked me to go shoot my granny and I probably would have done it. It was obvious that this man had me tightly wrapped around his finger. I did as he bid, climbing onto the bed.
“I feel foolish,” I confessed as he led me into position, my knees on either side of his head, my face above his cock.
“Focus on my cock. Suck me.”
I lowered my head, ran my tongue over the head of his dick, and let the salty glory of him burst to life on my taste buds. Delicious. My experiences with oral sex were limited. Sometimes, I felt like a relic. Feelings for Garnet nearly overwhelmed me. He’d taken me so lovingly in hand and eased me into this new world. I cared for him, a great deal. But lacking the skills to tell him so, I set out to show him. I sucked his cock into my mouth.
He moaned and writhed under me, licking at my cock then sucking my balls into his mouth as he massaged my buttocks. His fingers slid closer and closer to my ass. Then, he touched my hole. I stiffened, pulling off, my stomach clenching.
“Easy.” One word from him was all it took. I willed myself to relax, taking his cock back into my mouth, sucking on the head, as he began playing with my entrance. Slippery fingers slid around the rim, then in and out, short little intrusions that robbed me of my breath each time it happened. His tongue was gliding over my dick as he did toyed with my ass. Hot breath on wet skin. “This is going to set you on fire, baby.”
The first tiny bead was pushed in. I groaned around his cockhead.
He called me baby.
“Oh, sweet, yeah, how’s that? Good, huh?”
I moaned and sucked harder. He kicked at the bedding, his heels sliding off the edge of the mattress. The next bead was pushed in. Bigger than the first. My elbows felt weak and wobbly. By the time the final bead was inserted, my arms were shaking, my legs like putty, and my cock deep in the back of Garnet’s throat. I’d never felt anything like it. I wanted less, but I wanted more. Unable to breath properly with his cock in my mouth, I fisted his prick, my head resting on his thigh, and let him do with me as he wished. I trusted him. He’d called me baby. When the first rumble of an orgasm appeared, I arched up, my back arcing like a Halloween cat. He sucked with a vengeance, using this tongue in that way he did that shattered me. With a snarl, I shot down his throat. He yanked the beads out. Stars erupted behind my eyes.
I pumped madly, my ass twitching, my cock spurting, my lover swallowing each hot pulse.
“Jesus, Jesus,” I moaned over and over. I buckled then, unable to support myself. I fell to my face, half on the bed, half on Garnet, and curled in on myself. My dick was still oozing cum. He rolled me to my side, eyes glistening, lips coated with foamy semen, and began cleaning off my cock. “Garnet, come here,” I coughed weakly. He wiggled closer and I took him in hand, stroking him with rough, erratic tugs. He cried out. I sealed my lips over his cockhead and let his spend coat my mouth and throat. He tasted a little better than I did. I still disliked the taste, but I wanted to please him.
“Holy shit,” he huffed after he eased his softening cock from my between my lips. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“I think I did,” I replied, flopping to my back, unable to do anything but lay there, spent and sweaty, his cum on my tongue, and smile. He moved again, this time to press himself tight to my side and tip my face to the left.
“You look like you just rode a comet.”
“I feel like I did.” I fingered his collarbone, my gaze locked with his. “You’re a heavenly creature, Garnet.”
He kissed me, softly, but with great passion. “You can call me Tucker. That’s my real name. Tucker Cameron.”
That opened up something inside my chest, as if I’d been wearing a chest plate of dark armor that had been cleaved asunder by a blow from an archangel’s blade. There were so many things that I wanted to say, things that I needed to share, things that would set me free if only I dared to speak them. Could I say them to him? I cared for him, yearned for him in ways that I’d never imagined a man could crave another man. And not just his body. His heart, his smile, his laugh, his freckled shoulders. Was it possible to actually love a man as one would a woman? My father would say no, my church would agree, as would millions of people around the world.
“I’m struggling with what to say aside from thank you. I feel as if I say that to you all the time, yet it’s my truth. If not for you, I’m not sure I wouldn’t have walked out into the Colchester River and let it carry me away by now.”
His eyes flared. “Hey, no, no talking like that. I know living in the closet sucks, but you can come out. There are all kinds of professional athletes doing it.” He wriggled closer, resting his cheek to my chest.
“It’s not just the hiding my sexuality that’s pulling me under. There’s…it’s…” It was on the tip of my tongue to say it. Confess the sin that weighed me down the most to Tucker – what a perfect name for him – and remove that millstone around my neck. Dare I? “My father is the founder of and preacher at the Evangelical Church of Eternal Salvation. You can guess what his stance on men like us is,” I confessed instead. He made a sad sound, then dropped a kiss to my shoulder.
“If you want to hang around awhile, we can talk about your dad and your sexuality.” I pulled Tucker closer and bit down on the inside of my mouth. “I’m a good listener.”
“I know you are. I don’t think I’m a good talker, though.”
“You didn’t think you’d like anal beads, either, but you tried them. Then, you came so hard, you were speaking in tongues.”
I snickered. I talked. He listened. And then I held him to me all night.