“Good?” he asks me.
“Yeah,” I reply. I’m always super eloquent after finishing.
Once I catch my breath, I move backwards so I’m no longer right on top of him and tug his pants down to his ankles. I findhis cock, heavy in my palm and lean in close enough so I can smell the musky maleness of him.
“Wait, what are you —” His voice is pitched slightly higher than usual.
I let spit drip from my tongue onto the head of his dick. Then I use my fingers to start massaging it around the length of him, mixing it with the leaking pre-cum. I know I’m doing a good job because his legs jerk and spread wider.
“Hey,” I whisper.
“What?” His voice is a breathy mess.
“Someday, I want to suck you off. Will you let me do that?”
“Don’t…” he inhales deeply. “Don’t say stuff like that…”
“Why not? I want to suck your cock. Won’t you let me?”
“Stop talking. I’m gonna —”
He’s so warm and hard in my hand. Encouraged, I continue, “I’ll suck you off until you come. I’ll let you come in my mouth. And I’ll swallow. I promise.”
“Move away,” he tells me through gritted teeth. “Otherwise, I’m going to shoot all over your face.”
I heed his warning because while I want his cum in my mouth, I don’t know how I feel about it on my face. I pull my head back just in time because a second later, his hot cum splatters all over my hand and his stomach.
He lies there, limp, while I clean him up. Afterwards, he touches my wrist and urges me down so I’m lying beside him. The room is so small I have to bend my legs, but I don’t mind.
“Did you mean what you said?” he asks me.
“Yeah,” I mumble. “If you want me to.”
“I do. I want to do it to you, too.” He pauses. “I’ve always wondered what blowjobs are like. Giving and receiving.”
I’m tempted to ask what other sexual acts he wonders about, but I hold back because I don’t want to push him.
“At the start of the year, I told myself I wouldn’t get involved in this kind of thing,” he continues. “I thought it would be a distraction.”
“A distraction from what?” I ask.
“Year 12. I’m determined to do as well as I can. But this isn’t bad for me at all. It’s motivation. Something to look forward to.”
“I want to get through this year with no drama,” I say.
“Lucky for you, I’m the least dramatic person I know.”
I grin. “I’m not sure about that.”
“Hey. Are you calling me dramatic?”
“No,” I say. “Not exactly.”
He touches my hand. “What are you going to do after this year?”
I hesitate. “I’m going to move to the city to start with.”
“And?”
