MAN ABOUT TOWN
Amie M. Evans
“Come here,” Joe said, leaning against the doorway to his bedroom, hard hat still in hand from his drag performance at Club Kit Kat’s competition.
Tina, standing five feet away with her back toward him, seductively undid the zipper of her slinky dress and allowed it to slide down her body to pool on the floor.
“No,” Tina said, faking a pout as she turned around revealing her red lace bra and lack of panties, before bursting into giggles.
Joe closed the gap between them with two long steps. Grabbing Tina, he tumbled both of them onto the bed. “Tell me no, will you,” he said, climbing on top of her and pinning her wrists while the hard dildo under his jeans pushed against her leg.
They kissed. Joe continued, licking his way down her neck until he reached her cleavage. Tina’s full, curvaceous body squirmed under him. He released her wrists to fondle double-D breasts then pushed the lace cups off of them, exposing tiny pink nipples. Tina’s hands on the back of Joe’s head pulled him closer. Joe sucked on a nipple, worked it with his tongue, and lightly nibbled on it. Tina squirmed under him, grinding her hips into his. He released her nipple and slid down her until dropping to his knees on the floor. Joe pushed her legs apart.
“What’s the nasty construction worker going to do to me?” Tina asked. She loved the fantasy of having sex in character, and that Joe was always in drag when they went out.
“I won the contest, now I get my prize,” Joe said before ripping Tina’s panty hose open at the crotch, causing her to squeal in delight.
Tina’s bush was the same red color as the long, flowing hair on her head. Carefully, Joe spread her full labia then stuck his tongue into her waiting hole. He probed gently, taking in her taste and scent. Licking up to her clit, Joe worked it in a tight circle with light, but firm strokes. He wanted to excite Tina but didn’t want to make her come, at least, not yet. Slipping one finger into her cunt, Joe stroked in and out a few times. He added another finger and repeated the motion. Tina’s moans became significantly louder. Joe stopped.
Standing up, he undid his jeans, allowing them to fall to his ankles, then pulled the dildo out of the opening of his blue boxer briefs. Tina positioned herself in the middle of the bed and Joe got on top. Using one hand, he inserted the peach-colored dildo into her wet cunt. Tina moaned as the head plunged into her. The shaft followed. Joe quickly stroked in and out, watching Tina’s contorted facial expressions, listening to her quickened breathing, and loving that he was able to give her pleasure. After a few hard, long strokes, Joe pulled out.
He dropped to his knees again and yanked her ass to the edge of the bed. Tina placed her legs on his shoulders. Joe stuck three fingers into her cunt, also working her clit in hard, fast circles with his skilled tongue. Lacing her fingers into his short, brown hair, Tina shoved his face closer into her pelvis and groaned. Her hips began to rock quickly. She sucked in air and held it right before she came, thrusting her hips forward. Joe was careful not to get his nose broken by her vehemence, and not to stop stroking Tina’s clit until he had coaxed a full, sopping orgasm from her. He did, however, stop thrusting his fingers into her, keeping them inside still and motionless as wave after wave of strong vaginal contractions were felt when she came.
Joe slipped his fingers out and lay next to Tina, cuddling her in his arms. He could just make out the faint smell of vanilla with a hint of rose, her familiar trademark scent, over the smells of sex and sweat.
In a few minutes, she would get up, as usual, and get dressed. Perhaps they’d share a glass of wine and talk about the drag show, but just as likely not. Since they were at Joe’s, Tina would leave. This was the rhythm of their fucking. Joe did Tina. Sometimes Joe let Tina suck his dildo, but more likely, he just did her.
Tina rolled over so she was half on top of Joe. Her hair hung down tickling his face. “My turn,” she said. Joe assumed she wanted to suck his dildo, but Tina forcefully pulled at it attempting to remove it from his pants.
“What?” he asked, pushing her hand away.
“My turn,” she repeated, stroking the side of his face. “Let me, please, it doesn’t matter if you come. I want to taste your pussy.”
“No way,” Joe barked, jumping up and moving across the room as he tucked his dildo back in. “No fucking way,” he yelled, as he jerked up his pants.
“Joe,” Tina said as she stood up, arms akimbo. “Come on. Trust me.” She took a deep breath then exhaled. “Sweetie, whatever it is, it will be all right.”
“Forget it. I won’t let you.” Joe crossed his arms on his chest.
“Fine.” Tina started to put on her dress. “I can’t do this anymore.”
She looked at him. He looked back at her. Neither moved nor spoke. After a long, tenuous moment, Tina zipped her dress and left the room. Joe followed her into the living room, his arms still crossed. Putting her coat on, Tina made no eye contact with Joe. He grabbed her purse from the sofa before she could.
“Give it to me,” Tina demanded, one arm extended.
“Can’t we at least talk about this?”
“What’s to talk about? I thought you’d eventually let me, at least once, try.”
Joe put the purse in her hand.
“Will you?”
“No.” Joe looked down at the floor. “You don’t understand, Tina.”
“No, Joe, I do. I understand completely. I just can’t do this.” Tina walked to the door and paused with her hand on the knob. “You don’t understand that I like pussy. I like to please my lover.”
“You please me. You have no idea how much you please me.”
Tina shook her head, opened the door, walked out, and closed it behind her. She was gone.
Joe stood there, not moving, looking at the door as if at any second it would open and she’d reappear. After a few minutes, he walked over, turned the lock then returned to his bedroom. He removed all of his clothing, harness and dildo, and unwrapped his chest binding. With the light still on, he crawled between the sheets.
Joe and Tina had been dating for almost four months. While they’d been having sex since the second week of their romance, they’d never spent the night together. Joe had to get up early for work and Tina, who worked at night, slept late. This wasn’t the real reason for Joe’s reluctance to sleep over though. It was just a good excuse, allowing him to avoid revealing the truth about himself and to continue to protect himself from being exposed to what he perceived as a vulnerable situation if Tina awoke before him. So Joe had begged off sleepovers from the start and, like much in their relationship, not sleeping over had become a pattern. Just like Joe fucking Tina and not getting fucked himself, only seeing each other once a week on the night of the drag show, and Tina not meeting any of his old friends from before his drag king days, had all become patterns. And these patterns weren’t mentioned or questioned, until, that is, this night.
Joe lay on his bed staring at the ceiling. Normally, after Tina and he had sex, once he’d gotten home or she’d left, Joe would get rid of his boxer briefs, take off his harness and dildo, remove his tight panty to release his own flesh-and-blood cock, and lay on his bed in the dark. Taking his cock in his lubed right hand, he would replay his sexual encounter with Tina in his head and masturbate himself to a proper orgasm. This night, however, the fight with Tina was the only thing he replayed.
Joe didn’t know what to do. He could break up with Tina and find a new girlfriend. A number of the women who attended the drag shows had regularly offered to go home with him. But Joe feared he’d just be reliving the same fight with one of them in a few months. He’d also thought he was falling in love with Tina.
She was different from every other woman Joe had ever known. Of course, as a biological man, Joe hadn’t dated any lesbians except Tina. Maybe it wasn’t Tina after all, but lesbians who were different. So maybe it was lesbians and not Tina he was falling in love with. He was beginning to realize that he was actually in love with the attention that Tina gave him, not with her.
Things with Tina had been so easy; their relationship had just fallen into place. What’s more, Tina thought Joe was a stone butch drag king. A new partner would know, of course, he was a drag king, but would have to learn he was stone butch: not to be touched or probed vaginally. It would be more complicated than it had been with Tina. But at the moment, Joe took little comfort in the fact that he had not actually told these things to Tina, but, instead, she had assumed them about him. He had simply not corrected her; telling himself, with great success until now, that it wasn’t a lie, but an omission of the truth. This normally made him feel better.
At five six, Joe had always been short for a man. His petite bone structure, perfectly heart-shaped, full lips, and long curling eyelashes didn’t help enforce the masculine image he wished he had, but instead lent a feminine air to his features. This was something Joe had hated most of his life, until that first night he had wandered into Club Kit Kat by accident or, perhaps, providence. He’d had a rough day at work and simply wanted a beer before returning home and going to bed. Kit Kat was conveniently located on his walk home, halfway between the bus stop and his apartment. He’d never paid the corner bar much attention, as he rarely went out, and when he did, Joe preferred to have dinner and drinks with friends at a restaurant, rather than go to a club. But that night, Kit Kat’s neon sign called to him, beckoning him to come in. So he did. Paying the two-dollar cover and taking the last empty bar stool at the long bar on the far side of the dark, somewhat dingy club, Joe thought he’d grab a quick beer and head off to bed.
Balancing his briefcase against the bar and foot rail, Joe ordered a draft from the punky, female bartender. He looked around at the cabaret tables in a semicircle facing the small one-foot-high stage with a silver tinsel curtain backdrop. All around the club’s fake wood-paneled walls, generic neon signs announced beer brands in harsh, Day-Glo colors. The concrete floor was painted black and in desperate need of a good mopping. On the back wall, a large rainbow flag was hung over what was most likely a window. Rainbow-colored, glittery streamers were draped across the light fixtures suspended from the ceiling. Tacky, Joe thought, taking a sip of his beer. No wonder he had never come here.
The place, he noticed, was full of all kinds of women—sporty women in pullovers with athletic team logos on their chest, women in dresses with high heels, and women in jeans and T-shirts with short, extreme haircuts and, much to his surprise, what his mother lovingly called, “little men.” Men who, Joe self-consciously realized, were a lot like him. Short by normal standards and sporting what, in his own sensitivity to social norms, he called a disproportionate number of feminine features. Joe turned back to the bar and sipped his beer, telling himself he was projecting his own insecurities onto the crowd.
He had, after all, just had the worst day of his life. Having worked up the nerve to finally ask MaryAnn from accounting out, she had laughed as if it were a joke. When she realized it wasn’t, he had to stand there and watch her recoil as if he had asked her to eat a live octopus, as she told him no. If that wasn’t bad enough, after lunch, the major contract he was working on fell through and he’d ended up staying late to attempt to salvage what he could of the relationship with the client. By tomorrow, everyone in the office would know he had asked MaryAnn out and he’d have to face snickers and jabs for weeks. Not to mention that his boss would be angry for months about the lost client.
Joe glanced into the mirror behind the bar to study the reflection of the crowd. He wasn’t projecting. The man in the cowboy hat with the handlebar moustache couldn’t be an inch over five four, and despite his muscular arms, he was even more slight of frame than Joe. The stocky, blue-collar guy, five seven at best, had the most feminine jawline and nose Joe had ever seen. He was, in fact, almost pretty.
“Are you performing tonight?” a female voice asked the back of Joe’s head, pulling him away from his private assessment of the crowd’s reflection.
“Me? What?” he asked, spinning the stool around, shocked that a woman was speaking to him, and he was not able to hear her over the music and din of the voices.
The woman smiled. She had shocking red hair. Her large breasts and curves were perfectly displayed in a fitted, black dress with a deep V neckline. When she leaned in close to him the smell of vanilla mixed with a hint of rose filled his nose. Their cheeks were almost touching as she said directly into his ear in a soft voice that cut through the din, “Are you performing in the amateur drag king show?”
“Drag king show?” He had no idea what a drag king was. “No…I…”
“Sorry,” she said as she moved away from his ear leaving behind a hint of that vanilla-rose smell. She smiled then shrugged causing her breasts to bounce. She looked him over, moved in closer again and added, “I just assumed. I have to register everyone.” She held up the clipboard for him to see as proof of her duties and changed her smile to add a bit of mischief in it. “You look great, by the way. Just fab.”
Joe had thought she was fetching even before she had told him he looked great. “Thanks,” Joe said, feeling the color rise in his cheeks, unaccustomed to this type of attention from women. “I’m Joe.”
“Tina.” She offered her hand. He shook it, feeling skin like silk.
“It’s nice you dressed up for the event. Usually only the people performing do.”
Joe nervously grinned, “Yeah, I just came to watch. It’s my first time here.”
“Welcome. We do this every Wednesday night.” She handed him a flyer as she spoke. “Maybe you will perform next week.” Her smile had made him want to perform for her. “I’ve got to register all these kings! After the show there’s dancing. If you’re still here, maybe we could dance.”
“Yeah, I’d like that. I have to work early tomorrow, but if it isn’t too late…” Joe said, wishing he had stopped after yes.
“Great. It was lovely to meet you.”
Joe grabbed her hand. Even now he wasn’t sure why or where the impulse had come from. He lifted it to his lips like he had seen so many men in movies about the 1800s do, and said, “No the pleasure was all mine, Tina, I assure you.” Then he kissed it gently before letting it go.
Tina smiled. “See you later. If you have to leave early, my email is on the flyer. Email me, if you want. Maybe we could have coffee.”
“I will,” Joe called out, watching Tina’s full, curvaceous body swing just slightly from side to side as she walked over to the cowboy.
On the quarter-page flyer, above a line drawing of a tough construction worker with his arms crossed over his chest, block letters proclaimed Man About Town Drag King Show, followed by dancing with DJ Snatch; Wednesday nights, Club Kit Kat; $2. Tina’s email was printed at the bottom of the page. Joe folded it in half and slipped it into his wallet. Whatever a drag king was, Joe was determined to become one.
And that’s how it had started—by accident, by chance. Joe hadn’t intended to deceive or hurt anyone. But everything had somehow gotten so complicated. He had been having so much fun; he hadn’t even noticed it until he could no longer ignore it.
Joe had always felt somehow different from all of the other men he knew. It wasn’t just that he was shorter than most of them, but inside he had felt as if he was wired differently. Joe hadn’t ever thought of himself as a girl in a boy’s body, and still didn’t. He didn’t feel like a woman; more correctly, he felt unlike a man. He had never been able to verbalize how he felt, not even to himself, but the new life he’d found at the Kit Kat had opened up a whole world with a vocabulary that made it possible for him to begin to conceptualize his long-felt feelings of discomfort. As it turned out, Joe wasn’t a man or a woman. He was a drag king.
Sure, Joe wasn’t what he seemed to be. But then no one at the Kit Kat was what he or she seemed to be. Here were women who wanted to be men, women who pretended to be men by performing drag, and women who were actively changing their sex to male—not just cosmetically like the kings, but physically with surgery and hormones; here were also women who looked like cover girls, but only dated other women, and women who looked like dykes who dated other women, and women who looked like guys who only dated other women who looked like guys. In all the perceived confusion, Joe was only a man pretending to be a woman pretending to be a man so he could date a woman who only dated women. Trans wasn’t the right term for how he felt either.
Joe tried to wrap his head around all of this. If a woman was becoming a man and had sex with a woman who was a lesbian, was it heterosexual sex? More importantly, if he had sex with a lesbian while he was in drag as a drag king was it lesbian sex? And if he had sex with one of these new men, was he a fag? Joe had never been sexually attracted to other men, but there was something about the kings and tranny boys that turned him on. He hated admitting it, even to himself, but there it was.
After all, when he was moving through the world as a man, women paid him no attention. Now here at the Kit Kat they were practically throwing themselves at him as he moved through the world as a drag king. They begged him to date them, fuck them and love them. So why couldn’t he be a drag king? How does anyone, after all, become a drag king? Maybe, exactly like he did; with a little research on the Web, a few books, props, and trial and error. Why couldn’t he be a lesbian, if he loved women as a drag king? Surely Tina would understand all of that?
Joe exhaled deeply.
Lying on his bed alone, he didn’t believe she would. In fact, he knew she’d break up with him if he told her, then she’d tell everyone he was a man. His happiness—a happiness he had never thought possible; the camaraderie he shared with the other kings and the community he’d become a part of over the last four months, would all vanish. Poof, into thin air. The other kings would no longer accept him and might even beat the hell out of him. He wouldn’t be able to show his face at the Kit Kat. He wouldn’t be able to perform. He would also lose Tina.
He’d have to find a way to smooth this over or he’d have to break up with her.
By Wednesday of the next week, Tina still hadn’t returned any of his calls. Joe got ready for the drag show. His ritual was second nature by now. After showering, he tucked his cock back between his legs then plastered on the tight-fitting panty that held his dick in place—a trick he had learned from a drag queen website. The first few times he did this, his cock felt uncomfortable, but Joe got used to the new location of his dick. Now he felt uncomfortable if it was anywhere else. He stepped into the harness and jostled it over the panty, then placed the pack-and-play through the O-ring and pulled each strap until everything was firmly in place, exactly like the woman at the sex toy shop had explained to him.
Joe had been terrified by the idea of going into the sex shop to buy these items. He had walked around near it for over an hour before the cold had forced him to either go inside or leave. Having already invested so much time in the venture and desperately in need of things if he was going to continue his new identity as a drag king, he forced himself to go ahead. He’d been seeing Tina for almost two weeks and had been stalling their first time having sex.
The young woman at the counter greeted him without as much as a bat of the eye. No one rushed over and pointed a finger at him screaming, “He’s a man, get him out of here.” Nor did any of his other nightmarish fantasies about what was going to happen actually happen. He browsed at the video section, attempting to look nonchalant, but unable to read any of the information printed on the boxes because he was so nervous. As his heart started to slow down, he ventured into the vibrator section where he looked but didn’t touch anything for fear it would start to buzz and draw attention. In the book section, he started to feel more comfortable. Books were, after all, familiar to him. He selected The Drag King Book and The Whole Lesbian Sex Book. With these in his arms, he walked with what he hoped looked like confidence over to the dildo and harness section.
Joe was immediately astonished by the selection of dildos. The sizes, shapes and colors made his jaw drop. The variety of sizes, ranging from pencil thin to mammoth, impressed him, but when he added the shapes from lifelike to twisted in the form of Godzilla, he couldn’t believe women would need this many options. On the wall were harnesses displayed on plastic pelvises and below them on a shelf were flaccid and semihard cocks complete with balls in a vast selection of varied flesh tones and lengths. This was what he had come for. He’d learned about this from a drag king website a week ago. He had done some quick research to figure out what to do to have sex as a drag king.
After the last customers in the store left, Joe finally asked the clerk to help him. On her advice, he selected a washable harness made of nylon for easy cleanup and a pack-and-play, which in theory allowed him to pack a softy then flip it around for insertion into a partner. What Joe discovered later was that he needed an actual hard dildo to fuck a woman properly, and, what’s more, Tina liked different sizes—different lengths and thickness—at different times. He still preferred the semifirmness of the pack-and-play for packing when he was in drag. It created a semihard, semiexcited bulge in his pants that Joe imagined was hotter than a soft cock, and it had sentimental value being the first dildo he had fucked Tina with. But now he always kept a hard dildo in his bag for after the show.
It was almost time to leave for the Kit Kat. Joe wanted to arrive late, but before the show started. He pulled on the close-fitting boxer briefs, then his Levi’s, rolled at the ankles to expose his white bobby socks. Joe wrapped an ace bandage around his chest. He put on a white tank top with a white T-shirt over it, black Doc Martins, and a plain black belt with a big buckle. Joe shaved carefully so as not to cut himself. He didn’t have a lot of facial hair, a fact he was never happy about until recently. With a makeup brush he dusted his face with brown eye shadow to simulate a five o’clock shadow. He slicked back his hair in a pompadour of sorts, looking at himself in the full-length mirror. Joe felt like a modern-day James Dean: a rebel without a cause. He’d never, in all his life, thought he’d ever feel like his hero, James Dean.
What would Tina say if he told her the whole truth?
When Joe arrived at the club, Titillating Tom Teaser and Dick Desperate, his closest drag king friends, and their girlfriends, Stacy and Ann, were already at a table. Joe scanned the club for Tina and her clipboard, but she was not there. Tom, who was about Joe’s height but thirty pounds heavier, was dressed as a suave 1950s lounge host, complete with a blue sharkskin jacket and matching tie. He was a regular favorite at the club. As soon as he saw Joe, he jumped up and went over.
“Hey, come join us at the table,” Tom said, placing a hand on Joe’s arm. Joe made eye contact with him. “She’s not here. She called Ann and asked her to register everybody. Said she was sick.” Tom squeezed Joe’s arm making him realize that Tina had said more than that to Ann. Joe nodded. The two of them walked over to the table.
Dick, dressed as a cowboy, pulled up an extra chair and placed it between his own and Tom’s as they approached. “Glad to see you,” he said, rapping the seat of the chair for Joe to sit down. “I was just running to the bar, could I get you a beer?” Dick was extra thin and tall, lanky with wispy blond hair.
“Sure,” Joe said reaching for his wallet.
“On me, man. You get the next one.” Dick playfully punched Joe’s arm before heading off to the bar.
“You performing tonight?” Stacy asked, bumping Tom with her elbow. “Ann’s got the sign-up sheet.” Ann looked at Tom then pushed the clipboard toward him without stopping her storytelling.
“Thanks, hon,” Tom said, rolling his eyes.
“No. I’m just going to watch,” Joe replied. “I don’t feel up to it.”
“Not feeling well? Maybe you have what Tina has,” Stacy said.
Before Joe could answer, Dick returned with beers for the table. Ann and Stacy went back to their discussion and Tom and Dick talked about a new king who had performed well last week. Joe sat between them all, in silence, lost to his thoughts.
Maybe he should just leave. The tension at the table was almost unbearable. He could go home or pick up some flowers and go to Tina’s apartment. He could attempt to patch this up. But what could he offer her to make it better? Or he could just break up with her. Maybe he could get Tom or Dick alone and tell them about the fight. He couldn’t be the only stone butch in the room. Maybe someone could give him some advice on how to smooth this over with Tina. Before he could act on any of his plans, the MC took the clipboard from the table and walked up to the microphone.
Joe got up and headed to the bathroom. For show nights, the Kit Kat covered the normal male/female door signs with KINGS and NOT-KINGS signs made of paper. He went into the King’s bathroom. Standing over the sink, he looked at his reflection in the mirror. Joe felt sick to his stomach. He splashed cold water onto his face and pulled a paper towel out of the dispenser. He looked more closely into the mirror, remembering his makeup too late, the paper towel in hand and water dripping off his face.
“Blot it,” Jack, a pre-op FTM who was a regular at the club, offered from behind Joe. “Don’t wipe it, you’ll fuck up your beard. Just pat it.” Joe hadn’t moved so Jack took the paper towel out of his hand and dabbed at Joe’s face. “See, no smudges.”
“Thanks.” Joe looked in the mirror once again and started to dab at more water spots.
“Bad night?” Jack asked, washing his hands in the next sink.
“Bad week.”
Joe could see Jack’s reflection in the mirror as the king dried his hands. He was checking out Joe’s ass. Joe turned around and made eye contact. Jack shrugged and tossed his used paper towel in the trash while walking toward the door.
“Want to get out of here?” Jack asked.
Joe knew what Jack meant. For a second, he thought of Tina, then of Jack. “Yeah, I live a few blocks from here.”
“Great. Let’s go.”
They walked in silence to Joe’s apartment. He unlocked the door to let them in. Jack pushed the door closed with a bang behind them. He grabbed Joe by the arms and slammed him against it. For a minute, Joe thought he was going to be beaten up, but then Jack sunk against him. The boy kissed him hard on the lips with an open mouth and ground against his pelvis. Joe kissed him back.
“I knew you liked boys,” Jack said as he released Joe.
Joe smiled awkwardly. His mind was spinning. Did he like boys? Jack was after all pre-op, so he was technically physically a girl. Of course, Jack was more of a guy than he was himself. But then, he was a real guy, except he was a girl dressed as a guy, as far as Jack knew. “The bathroom’s over there,” Joe said, pushing the confusion out of his mind. “I’ll meet you in the bedroom.”
Jack took his backpack with him into the bathroom. Once the door was shut, Joe rushed to the bedroom, undid his jeans, and slipped the pack-and-play out of the harness. He tossed it into the nightstand drawer where he retrieved the eight-inch black dildo. Unsnapping the bands that held the O-ring, Joe replaced it with a larger one to accommodate the bigger dildo. He stepped into the harness before rebuttoning his jeans. His heart was pounding and his hands were shaking. Jack appeared seconds later, the bulge in his pants substantially bigger.
Jack grabbed Joe and pulled him in. Their sleek muscular bodies seemed at odds with each other, struggling for domination as their tongues explored each other’s mouth. Joe could feel Jack’s hard cock against his leg. It turned him on, and confused him. He wondered if Jack would let him fuck him in the ass or if Jack would let him fuck him in the cunt. And Joe worried that Jack would want to fuck him.
Jack grabbed Joe’s hair and pushed him to his knees. Joe was at eye level with Jack’s bulge as the boy undid his belt and pants. Joe had never sucked cock before and he was a mix of nerves and excitement. Jack pulled his hard cock from the pocket of his tighty-whities. It was at least eight inches long with a raised vein and circumcised head. “Suck it,” Jack ordered as he hit either side of Joe’s face gently with his cock.
Joe licked the tip then gingerly took the head into his mouth. Does this mean I’m a fag? At first, he felt as if he’d choke on the cock. He wasn’t sure if this was because he was unaccustomed to sucking cock or if he was having a physiological reaction to the act itself. I want this, don’t I? Joe adjusted to the feeling of the dildo in his mouth and slowly started to work his way up Jack’s cock with each inward slide.
“That’s a good boy. Take your cock out and work it with your free hand,” Jack instructed Joe.
He awkwardly undid his pants and pulled his own dildo from his boxer briefs while still keeping Jack’s cock in his mouth. Joe worked his dildo with his right hand as he held Jack’s in his left and continued the in and out motion with his mouth. He wanted to please Jack. He was turned on and freaked out at the same time. Is Jack a girl or am I? Are we both guys? Am I gay, or what?
Joe gagged and Jack eased off on his thrusts.
“Suck it, Joe. Take more of my cock in.”
Joe, excited by the order, tried. Jack’s hips started to pump in and out with the rhythm of Joe’s strokes.
“Let me fuck your face hard. Take it, boy,” Jack grunted into the air.
Joe let go of his fears. Driven by the verbal descriptions, he increased the speed and force of his strokes on both his cock and Jack’s. Fuck it. Who cares what we are? His body relaxed into the pleasure of the fuck.
“What the hell!” Tina’s familiar voice screeched from the doorway. Joe dropped his own cock and pulled away from Jack, whose hips thrust in the air one last time before he realized what was happening. They were both exposed as they looked at Tina and she looked at them. “You’re kidding me,” Tina said as she turned and ran down the hallway. Joe got up and ran after her, tucking himself in.
“Tina,” he shouted as he reached the living room. She was at the door.
“If you are going to fuck someone, at least lock the door.”
Joe saw the bottle of wine and flowers on the counter. “What are you doing here?
“I went to the club,” Tina said turning around with tears streaming from her eyes. “They said you had left so I came over to apologize. I wanted to say that none of it mattered.” She shook her head. “Apparently I don’t matter.” She opened the door.
“Can’t we talk? I want to explain what happened.”
“You could have just broken up with me.” She stepped into the outside hallway and shut the door.
Joe stood there as if at any moment she would reappear. Instead, Jack emerged from the bedroom with his coat on and his backpack over his shoulder. His big bulge was gone.
“Hey, I’m going to go,” Jack said kissing Joe’s neck. “I left my number by your bed. When things calm down, call me.”
Joe nodded. Jack left.
“Wait,” Joe yelled and grabbed the flowers from the counter. He ran into the hallway. Jack was at the top of the stairs ready to go down. Joe hurried to him and held the bouquet out, “Take these. A beautiful boy like you should have them.”
Jack took them. They both smiled. Joe watched Jack go down the steps and out into the night.