Private Party (5 page)

He didn’t need to ask twice. Improvisation had been one of my strong points at acting school and I turned on quite the monologue. He grinned and nodded, encouraging me, then shut me up by slamming his cock in my mouth. I choked which amused him. ‘Can’t you handle my big cock? Shall I give it to someone else?’

I gripped him by his buttocks, sealing him against me, and began to bob up and down the length of his shaft. I’d been going at it for a few minutes when he asked a question which made me pause. ‘So what are you?’

I had to disengage to speak. ‘Huh?’

‘Bi, straight or gay?’

At first, I was confused—wasn’t it obvious? But then I realised what he wanted to hear, so I played along. ‘I just get so bored with my girlfriend,’ I confessed, stroking his cock. ‘We’ve been together for years and there’s nowhere near enough sex. She’s real timid about sucking my dick too.’

‘And sometimes you just need your cock sucked by … an expert,’ he suggested. ‘Or you have an urge for … other activities.’

‘Oh mate, you have no idea. There are some things she’d just never do.’

‘Yeah, I bet. Like this.’

HotBloke sprang forward and jumped on top of me, kneeling above my head so he faced my toes. Then he leaned forward and pulled both my legs up in the air. He ran a hand over my arse and gave it an admiring slap. ‘She wouldn’t worship this, not the way I’m going to.’

HotBloke began to peel away my underwear, murmuring his appreciation as he did so. Then he slid his cock back into my mouth, pinned my feet alongside my ears and attacked my arsehole with his tongue. He was ferocious and within seconds he had me delirious with pleasure. At one point, while he was working away, his hand crept round to cradle my cock but didn’t linger there long. Was he disappointed? He seemed to be a total arse man and I was hoping it wasn’t going to matter.

After a few more minutes, he eased away from me to advise that he was dying to fuck me. ‘Though this feels so goddamn good, maybe I’ll just blow while I eat your straight arse.’

Caught up in the moment, I agreed. HotBloke dived back in and I leant forward to continue sucking him, but he pushed me away and began to stroke himself. I’d kept my hand off my own dick—he had me so worked up, I was scared I’d come if I even touched it—but now I took hold of it and began to stroke. Beneath me, HotBloke began to writhe and mutter. He was close. I tightened my grip on my own cock and began to pump hard. Spasms shook HotBloke’s body and a glob of cum shot out and splattered across my chest. Four more spurts followed, none as powerful as the first, but still damn impressive. The sight of that pushed me over the edge and I shot all over his stomach.

I collapsed alongside him and kissed him lightly on the lips, but he didn’t kiss me back. We lay there for a few minutes in silence. Finally, HotBloke sighed and sat up. ‘Oh well, I’d better get going.’

‘It’s okay, my girlfriend’s at work.’

He gave me a look. Now that he’d come, that game was over. ‘Yeah work. That’s where I’m supposed to be, so I really do need to go.’

‘Have a shower if you like,’ I said, thinking it might be nice to lather up together.

‘No, I’ll do it at home. It’s so close.’

He glanced around, discovered the box of tissues, pulled out a handful and wiped himself off. Then he stood up and pulled on his jeans. It was a very sexy sight, watching him tuck his still swollen cock away and zip up. ‘So maybe next time you can fuck me with that,’ I suggested lightly.

‘Yeah, sure,’ said HotBloke, looking around distracted. ‘Hey, my tee shirt?’

‘In the living room,’ I said, sitting up.

‘Oh yeah,’ he said and disappeared out the door to retrieve it.

By the time I had cleaned myself up, pulled on my underwear and followed him out to the living room, he was fully dressed and tying up his shoelaces. He looked up at me and grinned. ‘Thanks,’ he said. ‘I needed that.’

He stood up, came over and pecked me on the cheek. ‘Gotta run,’ he said, and with that, he turned and headed for the door.

It was so quick. He was out of the apartment before I even had a chance to say goodbye. As the door thudded shut behind him, I realised that we hadn’t even exchanged our real names, let alone phone numbers to facilitate getting together again more easily. He was such a hot guy but the abruptness of his departure did rather diminish the moment. I couldn’t help feeling let down and slowly that familiar funk of feeling rejected began to lap its way towards me.

Then I remembered that I had his e-mail address. I could write him a message, say all the things I would’ve liked to if he hadn’t bolted, and suggest another session this weekend. After I’d cleaned up and had a leisurely breakfast, I sat down at the computer to compose a message.

Hey mate,
So the girlfriend is going out of town this weekend to a convention which means I’m home alone. Our session this morning was awesome but now I’m regretting that we didn’t take it further. You got me so hot to be fucked and now that’s all I can think about. Why don’t you come over this weekend and finish what you started?

CSI-Sydney (Curious, Straight, Intrigued-to-try-your cock)

I sent the message but was so impatient for his reply that I kept running back to the computer every five minutes to check for it. Finally, I took myself downstairs to the gym to stop myself from being so obsessive. I had put my membership on hold at City Gym as I didn’t want to run into either Rick or Alejandro, and the building’s gym was perfectly adequate. I’d been working out religiously. I was determined that the next time I ran into Blake or even Alejandro, I would be looking damn good.

When I got back upstairs, I went straight to the computer and discovered that I had one new message. It had to be him. I began to anticipate his sexy answer to my proposition. But then the message popped into my inbox and all my anticipation curdled. It wasn’t from HotBloke. It was from a Krystal Lutz, who in the subject line promised to ‘Add three inches or more to your manhood with our new enhanced pill’. I deleted the message, then went into my Sent messages folder to re-read what I had written to HotBloke. Suddenly I wasn’t so sure about what I’d said. Perhaps it had been a bad idea to persist with the whole girlfriend line. HotBloke had given me a very quizzical look post-sex when I’d continued to refer to ‘my girlfriend’.

I felt very tempted to write him a new message, without all the bullshit. I actually sat down at the computer and began to write, when it struck me how desperate that would seem. It had been less than two hours since I’d e-mailed him. For all I knew, the guy hadn’t even received my first message, perhaps couldn’t access his personal e-mail at work. I made myself exit out of my e-mail; then for good measure, closed the computer right down. I would leave it off for the rest of the day. I was being needy and obsessive again. Though, after a few minutes, it occurred to me that at least I wasn’t obsessing over Blake, so maybe that was some sort of progress.

Thankfully, I had an appointment to meet Dave the builder over at Ridge Street. This meeting proved to be rather amusing as we were discussing the storage space in the attic. Dave had no idea that there was a double entendre at play as he proposed ‘enlarging my manhole’ to gain access. Afterwards, I went to look at fittings for the bathroom. That took all afternoon, as I was incredibly indecisive when I had to choose such things by myself. Unfortunately, it really made me miss Blake. That night, at home, I distracted myself with cooking and then watching a DVD. The computer remained off even though I felt sorely tempted to just quickly check my mail.

The next morning, when I woke up, instead of lazing beneath the covers and making excuses not to get up as usual, I sprang out of bed. I went straight to the computer, turned it on and opened my e-mail. Three messages began to download. He
had
replied and I felt reassured, then excited at the prospect of what he might have written to me. But then the messages popped into my Inbox: one was from Blake; another from Qantas; and the third one from a guy I’d never heard of, a Rod Jackson, with the subject
About Last Night
. I was so disappointed, until I realised that Rod must be HotBloke’s real name. I cursed myself for not checking my e-mail earlier. He had wanted to get together last night. Eagerly, I opened the message, only to be most horribly disappointed. Rod Jackson was not HotBloke, but a colleague of Krystal Lutz’s spruiking the amazing benefits of their new pill. It was crushing.

I stamped into the kitchen and began to make some breakfast. However, once the coffee was on, I started to wonder about the message from Blake. It had come with an attachment. I went back to the computer and opened his message.

Stephen,

We need to strike some sort of arrangement over our joint possessions. Why don’t you make a list of what you want in order of preference? I have done the same—see my attachment. Then we can negotiate from there.

Blake

I replied immediately, saying that my anti-virus software had deleted a suspicious message that he had sent with an attachment. Then I opened said attachment and glanced through it. I was amused to see that his pot plants headed the list.

My coffee on the gas top began to hiss and I hurried over to turn it off. I was in no mood to read Blake’s demands. I prepared my breakfast and went out onto the balcony to eat it. However, upon taking the first spoonful of my muesli, my mouth gave a pang of protest. I stopped and withdrew the spoon. What was wrong? Cautiously, I began to stretch my mouth open and immediately the pain flared. It was very strange. I sipped my coffee and then tried again with the muesli. But once again the pain blazed and I began to feel alarmed. I dashed into the bathroom to examine my mouth. Cautiously, I opened wide which caused a sharp new spasm, but when I peered inside, I couldn’t see anything wrong. I began to feel deeply concerned. I had never experienced such symptoms before. This was nothing like a sore throat. Was it the onset of lockjaw which I had a vague idea was connected to tetanus? Though how could I possibly have contracted that? Unless it was some exotic STD I had never experienced before, some vicious new strain of throat gonorrhoea? I had certainly given HotBloke’s cock a very thorough deep-throating the day before … It was that thought that made me realise. Was it possible that I’d strained the muscles in my mouth giving HotBloke head? As I thought back on the fervour with which I’d approached the task, it began to seem more and more likely. Amused, I went back to my food and after a few bites, began to get used to the discomfort.

After I’d finished breakfast, I glanced at my watch. It had been around the same time yesterday morning that I’d met HotBloke on Gaydar. Might he be online again now? I scurried inside to the computer and logged into the website. My Favourites box popped up and his name appeared: he was online. I was so thrilled to see him that I sent him a message immediately, saying hello. I waited for a reply. None came. I wondered how long messages took to be delivered. It had seemed to be pretty instant yesterday but maybe that wasn’t always the case. I regretted writing the message so quickly. I should have considered more carefully what I was writing; said something sexy or at least asked a question which demanded a reply. Finally after almost ten minutes and still no response, I was sick of waiting and sick of beating around the bush. I sent a second message that was straight to the point.

CSI-Sydney:
Do you want to come over again this weekend and fuck me?

He replied within a minute.

HotBloke10:
Thanks but no thanks.

I couldn’t believe it.

CSI-Sydney:
Why not? Didn’t we have fun yesterday?

It was only after I had sent the message that I wondered if I had been too hasty and persistent in replying at all. But I had just felt so offended and upset that I had replied automatically.

HotBloke10:
No means no. Let’s just leave it at that mate.

I felt on the verge of tears after reading that message. Over the last two months, I had endured so much rejection. It just seemed intolerable that it was happening
again
. I didn’t want to leave it at that. I wanted to know why. Was it because my dick wasn’t big enough or had I failed to measure up in some other arcane way? Had I been too needy, too persistent? Or was it nothing to do with me and just some rule he had with his boyfriend, that he couldn’t see the same guy twice?

My computer beeped and a new message popped up on my screen. I opened it, presuming it must be HotBloke. I didn’t really expect a change of heart but thought he might be sweetening his rejection with a compliment. However, the message was from someone else entirely.

Mischief75:
Hey CSI. I wouldn’t mind getting you on the slab and conducting a thorough investigation of your sexy body.

I clicked into Mischief’s profile to check him out, but his photographs only showed his cock and body. It was obvious that he worked out and his cock stood to attention with a certain noble intent, but he wasn’t a patch on HotBloke. I scanned through some of the facts on his profile, noting that he was my age and lived in the inner west. But before I’d even had a chance to think about replying, he sent me another message.

Mischief75:
My initial investigation would aim to determine whether you truly are versatile as you claim or simply a bottom with aspirations?

Mischief had a clever way with words. I went back to his profile and read it properly. I was impressed. It was very well put together—chatty, engaging and witty—which I knew wasn’t particularly easy to achieve. I messaged him back, asking for a face pic.

Mischief75:
I have a couple but I don’t really like them, nor are they that recent. I’m about to buy a digital camera so will have a whole new gallery of pics soon. But I can assure you that I am very good looking.

I didn’t really buy that. A face pic seemed to be an absolute prerequisite for Gaydar adventures. If Mischief didn’t have one to provide, it was probably for good reason.

CSI-Sydney:
Okay, well let me know when you do get a face pic. See you.