Tick, tick, tick.
Evan’s cockhead brushed against the roof of Matt’s mouth, pushing deeper. Matt gagged, spat the thing out, frustrated at his own ineptitude. Here he was, his head cradled near Evan’s thighs, inhaling his soft musk, eager to swallow his load, and he hadn’t so much as tasted pre-cum!
Matt tried again. He forgot about the competition and focused on Evan’s cockhead, popping it in and out of his mouth slowly. He was rewarded with trickles of salty pre-cum.
The timer shrieked. Six minutes were up.
Matt had improved his previous time by thirty percent. That was good enough for today. Nor did he care anymore aboutlosing the bet.
He spread his legs wider and arched his hips for more thrust. He pushed into the downstroke, felt the base of his cock bump Evan’s lips, felt his balls brush against the bridge of Evan’s nose.
He felt his cock pulsing, hardening. His thoughts compressed into the singularity of downstroke, upstroke. He managed one last, furious downstroke and then shot into Evan’s mouth.
Evan swallowed, drank more, but could not catch it all. Cum oozed down his chin.
Chapter 12: Political Science
Thursday, August 24, 1995
Ashort, skinny kid stood sentry outside the room in the Norick Learning Center where SGA met. He looked officious, brandishing a clipboard, checking names—as if there were a high risk of infiltration.
Matt cleared the checkpoint, made his way into the room.
He was early—and nervous. He disliked public speaking in general, debate in particular. Plus, he was now on Colton Langley’s turf, an unwitting pawn in William’s plan, instructed to lie low until further notice.
Lying low was exactly what he intended to do.
It had been a long day for Matt, dreading Coach’s certain anger at his having missed yesterday’s soccer practice. His punishment stung. He’d been looking forward to playing in Saturday’s game against Saints University. Now he was benched.
Even worse was the fact that Coach assumed he had skipped practice because of a girl!
Matt wished he could tell Coach the truth, that he’d started out moping about one guy and ended up blowing another, that he’d loved the feel of Evan’s cock in his mouth, the way its curved underside slid across his tongue as it angled upwards like the prow of a ship breaking through waves. That he now knew the shape Evan’s eyebrows formed when he climaxed—one raised in surprise, the other scrunched in concentration—Popeye after a bout with Olive Oyl. That he had savored the earthy taste of Evan’s cum so much he hadn’t rinsed his mouth for hours. That he was now honor bound to bottom for Evan the next time they hooked up—and that he was looking forward to it.
The truth had to go unsaid.
Ten or so kids were already inside the meeting room, some seated, most milling around near the back, chatting.
Matt felt eyes tracking him and remembered Evan’s claim that people watched him like he was some sort of celebrity. He found an empty row halfway back from the lectern and settled in.
Colton Langley strode down the aisle, passing within a few feet of him. Matt’s muscles tensed. The back of his neck felt suddenly hot.
He didn’t judge Colton for having gone back into the closet, nor for trying to be straight. Matt knew from his own experience that family pressure to conform could be overwhelming. It had taken him five years to find the courage to push back.
He assumed the pressure on Colton must be even more intense, considering he was expected to fulfill his family’s political ambitions.
He did judge Colton for ruining other people’s lives, most recently Adam Maxwell’s. Colton could try masquerading as an avenging angel intent on rooting out sin, but Matt knew the truth: underneath the Puritan’s cloak was an angry boy determined that if he couldn’t live as a gay man, no one else would either.
Colton joined a girl at a small table facing the audience. They began a whispered conversation.
Watching Colton, Matt understood why William had been physically attracted to him. The guy was above-average height, with a wrestler’s build and a frat boy’s face: lantern jaw, dimples, and a Colgate smile. It was not hard to imagine his holding high elected office someday.
How many gay lives would he ruin if his rage were coupled with real power?
“Is that seat taken?”
A bony, brassy-voiced girl stood in the aisle, pointing to the seat beside Matt even though the rest of the row was empty. The two rows in front of them were empty as well.
“It’s yours if you want it,” Matt said. He had hoped to make it through this meeting without interacting with anyone.
