Alex confronts Matthew about his sister. The college kid drops by his professor's office for a surprise visit. Jose's jealously gets out of hand.
Rent Matthew -- Part IX jason99usa@yahoo.com
Alex and Matthew were close. They had known each other since they were kids, and their personalities complimented one another. Even their good looks were a match. While Matthew never took advantage of his friend, it was understood that he would always look out for Alex. Trust was the basis of their friendship. This is why it was so difficult for Matthew to tell Alex about his involvement with Sarah. They were finally on good terms, and he didn't want to spoil it. But secrets have a way of getting out.
When Matthew had believed it to be safe, it wasn't. Alex finds out about Matthew's tryst with his sister and he comes over to confront the person he thought he could trust. Matthew opens the door to an angry friend.
"You fucking asshole!" shouts Alex, as he storms in and throws his fury at Matthew, one fist after the other. "How could you do that to my sister!"
Alex launches himself onto Matthew, taking his enemy down with him. The two wrestle with each other, Matthew trying to block the attacks while Alex swinging his hardest and making contact. Painful, hurtful words foam out of Alex's mouth. He wanted to hurt the person who had deceived him. Matthew had gotten involved with sister, and that was inexcusable. Moments later and out of breadth, the two separate. Matthew looked at his friend, who looked away.
"I'm sorry, Alex," apologizes Matthew. "It's my fault. I shouldn't have gotten Sarah involved."
"I don't believe you," replied Alex. He spoke calmly, without feelings or emotions, like he was still upset and would be for a while.
For the next several minutes, the two don't speak to each other. For Matthew, it was agony. How could his friend ever trust him again? He should have been upfront with Alex from the beginning, instead of beating around the bush. He should have deflected Sarah. But he didn't. Mathew looked at Alex for some kind of sign. But he only saw sadness in his friend's eyes.
"Sarah's had the biggest crush on your since grade school," continued Alex. "I know it wasn't your fault. I just wished it was me."
"What are you saying?"
"I wished it was me, Matt," replied Alex. "I'm sorry." Alex looked away, avoiding the inevitable.
Matthew was bruised from the attack, but his main concern was to reassure his friend. "It's alright. I'm OK."
"You're hurt," said Alex, as he noticed the bruise on Matthew's forehead. "I'm sorry, Matt." Alex examined the swelling with his fingers, assessing the damage.
In his moment of anger, he had hit his friend, and that made him feel guilty. But it was more his jealously that powered his zeal. Tracing the shape of the wound, Alex glanced at his friend. And the look he got back made him both happy and sad. Matthew didn't hate him, Matthew was on his side. As he watched Matthew in interest, he felt reassured, like salvation was in trusting his friend. And when the set of blue eyes stared back at him, there was trust and something else in them.
But when Matthew tried to speak, his lips were engulfed by Alex.
Alex had been Matthew's best friend since he was a kid, and never once had the thought of making out with him crossed his mind. Alex was a handsome kid, but he was more a loyal companion than anything. Yet the most unexpected was occurring. Soft lips melted into his.
Sensuous, it was not what he expected. Alex's hands held him, while urgent lips traced his skin, almost fighting to taste him. Every touch was followed by a kiss, every time his skin was sucked, it was followed by some insistent, pleading moan. And for a moment, Mathew was caught up in it, struggling to explore the unknown. Except the other person wasn't a hot girl, but his best friend. The moment he realized the what was actually happening, Matthew pushed Alex away.
"I'm sorry," apologized Alex.
"It's OK," said Matthew. "I'm sorry about your sister. Don't be upset at her." His cautious eyes caught Alex and looked away, as he felt unsure about himself.
"I know she cares about me. I won't hold a grudge against her."
The numbing pain shot back into the bump on his forehead. And although he felt he deserved losing the fight with Alex, he was somewhat pissed his friend had hit him so hard. What Matthew did next he later regretted. It was the wrong time and place to bring it up, but he wanted to know, so asked, "What happened to you after I left for Europe?"
Matthew met silent, and the two did not exchange words for the next few minutes. It was an inappropriate question, but it was also an important one. While Alex avoided his eyes, Matthew looked directly at him, waiting for some hint of what he could do for his friend.
"I thought I was straight, Matt. I thought I was normal all my life," began Alex, as a grim look went across his face. "But I wasn't. I guess deep down I've always known I wasn't."
As tears ran down the side of his face, looping into the side of his mouth, Alex continued his story. Matthew tried to comfort him, but Alex only pushed him away, distancing himself away from the other.
"When you left, I was so lonely. I didn't know who I was anymore. So I felt I had to find out.
The first place I went to was a gay bar. Deep under the basement cellar, I met a man that would later change my life. I guess he sensed right away I was an easy target. He bought me a few drinks, and got me loaded. We ended up at his place that night.
I told him I'd never been with anyone before. He laughed and told me not to worry, that he would soon take care of that. I guess I should have known better at the time, but I didn't. My first time with him was nothing but gentle. To him, I was just another piece of meat, and he treated me that way.
I was such a fool to come back. He was surprised himself, but that didn't stop him from taking advantage of me. He made me do things I didn't want to do, slapping me when I did something wrong, kicking me, seeing how I would react. That was how he liked it, rough. Seeing fear in my eyes got him off, and he made sure I understood his control over me.
I was afraid of him, and I didn't know who to tell, who I could trust. Every time I'd come to see him, he became more and more demanding. He blamed me for being gay, he said I made him want me. It was a sin, he said, and I would have to pay. He'd tied me and fuck me, like I belonged to him.
Then one day his wife walked in on us. They argued for what seemed forever, and then she packed her things and walked out on him. When he got back, he didn't give me an explanation, he just beat me until he I lost consciousness, and then again until I lost feeling. I barely got away, and I never came back.
But as much as I had disliked being treated like shit, I thought I deserved it. I was an outcast in God's eyes, a black sheep. I couldn't stop my myself, so even after I left him, I continued to search for sex. Restrooms, public parks, I didn't care. Any place would do as long as it was with strangers, as long as they could take the pain away. I had become the town slut.
And then I was caught red-handed. I was at a rest-stop and I met this truck driver. While he was banging me senseless, a highway patrol officer walked in on us. It was the worse thing that could have happened. My father had to come get me, and the town found out.
If my life hadn't been bad, it only got worse. I came out to my family that night. My mom was so depressed. She didn't blame me, she protected me against my father's accusations. I heard the screams the night before he left. I heard him say he was ashamed I was his son. Better to have left me in jail with the other homosexuals, than to have me live under the same roof. He wanted me out on the streets, but my mom refused. So he left. He never said goodbye.
Even my sister was affected. Sarah was one of the most popular girls in school, and then I fucked up and she had to pay for it. Boys stopped calling. The kids at school spray-painted "queer" on her locker. It wasn't fair to her, she was just a teenager.
There were other things they did to us. Rocks going through our windows in the middle of the night. People looking the other way, avoiding us, whispering about me and my shame.
I had no one on my side, I had no one to go to, so I did what I thought was best for my family. I tried to commit suicide by overdosing, and I failed. I was so stupid, Matt. I couldn't even kill myself properly."
Matthew had listened without interrupting his friend. Anger, fear, and sorrow were all expressions that played across his face, contorting him from the inside-out. His best friend's pain became his, and he took it hard. Alex fought him, but Matthew persisted. He went for Alex, swinging his arms around him, embracing what was left of a spirit who had died. Alex was a wreck, and so was he.
"Why didn't you call, Alex? Why didn't you let me know!"
"I couldn't, Matt. I was so ashamed."
"What about Cathy, Jimmy, Rob, Jonathon, all our friends?"
"After they found out, they wouldn't speak to me. I don't deserve you, Matt."
"No, don't say that. Don't you fucking say that!" foamed Matthew. "Sometimes, I feel I don't deserve you. I can't believe anyone would want to hurt you. I can't believe those bastards I thought were my friends didn't come to you when you needed them most. I can't believe your father did that to you and your family."
"But I deserved it. It's because of me that he left my mom and sister."
"No! You listen to me, Alex. You are wrong," forced Matthew, as he held his friend by the collar, trying to shake some sense into him. "Your father leaving you and your family has nothing to do with you. It has all to do with him and his lack of self-confidence. He needs to work out his issues. They have nothing to do with you."
"Matt, how can I believe that?" questioned Alex. He tried to avoid his friend's look, but Matthew held his face, preventing him from looking away.
"Because it's true."
Tears began to fill his eyes and overflow from them, taking the weight Alex had carried with him for more than half a year. As he looked at his friend, as Matthew looked back at him, he felt self-conscious. He felt dirty in comparison to Matthew.
And before Alex had a chance to move away, Matthew's lips pressed slightly against his. He wanted to cry but the tongue inside broke his concentration. Like two doves outdoing one another in the sky, the two make out for the second time that day.
Slower than before, they explore one another. Somewhat urgent and insistent, their mouths trace the other. Testing, tentative, their behavior becomes more permanent, like they were meant for each other. They French kiss, colliding, embracing, pleading for more. Swapping their insides, they become one in the exchange. For a moment, there was only two people in the world, only two that mattered. Yet Matthew couldn't quite accept it, and for the second time that day, he pushed Alex away.
"I think you better go, Alex."
"Okay." Swapping spit with his best friend was what dreams were made of. Matthew was an amazing kisser. Alex now understood what all the commotion was about, what they all whispered about, the girls that had been with Matthew.
"Will you be alright?"
"Yeah, I think so."
"Are you sure?" asked Matthew. He was genuinely concerned for his friend. He didn't want Alex to leave, yet he didn't think it was wise to be near him either.
"Yeah."
Matthew came over to his friend, held him in a tight embrace, and whispered, "I love you, Alex."
"Me too."
"I'll give you a call tomorrow," said Matthew, as his hand found his friend's shoulder. He firmly squeezed it. "Please wait for my call."
Matthew immediately regretted the kiss. He should have done it out of love, not pity. Alex needed him, not some phony pretending to like him. He was ashamed of himself for misleading his best friend, a person he wanted to be around with for the rest of his life.
At the same time, he felt sorrow and anger. How could anyone take advantage of Alex? He wanted to find out who the guy was that abused Alex. He wanted to give the guy a taste of his own medicine, beat the shit out of him. And his so called friends. Where were they when Alex needed them? He hated every one of them. Friends don't abandon one another because of one's sexual orientation. Friends stick together.
Alex needed his help. And Matthew didn't know how to deal with it. Giving his body to his best friend wouldn't solve anything. Now that he knew what Alex had gone through alone, he wished he had never gone to Europe. He should have been there for his Alex, he should have stayed. Matthew decided that whatever it took, whatever he had to do, he'd take care of Alex. In the meantime, however, there was someone else he had to take care of.
Matthew shows up at Professor Hubbard's office unexpectedly. What drove him there, what impelled him to come, he couldn't quite articulate himself. He had had a great time with his teacher at the beach, but he felt something was missing, and he came to find out what it was.
The soft knock on his door was too soft to catch his immediate attention, but the kid's swift movement into his office and the subsequent closing and locking of his door got him to look up from his work. Though he was pleased to see who it was, he had a lot of work to do.
"Matthew, what are you doing here?" Professor Hubbard's eyes followed his student's body, deliberately examining the kid's crotch and face.
The two looked at each other in silence. Like his professor, had the kid had male model type qualities. Handsome and fit, the two were on the same side of the gene pool.
Matthew felt words weren't necessary as he moved toward his professor. He looked at his teacher and the look he got back acknowledged what he already knew. On his own free will, he pulled his shirt off and tossed it to the side. His gesture pleased his professor, but the look of determination on his face searched for something else.
Professor Hubbard looked at the kid, taking in the slim body, a hard chest rising and falling as the kid caught his breath. It was a nice strip show, and his student's brash behavior made it more risky.
Matthew moved closer and dropped to his knees. He looked up, and as they exchanged looks, the two communicated non-verbally. The kid was there for one reason, and for one reason only, to please his teacher in the worse way. With a body like that, he would get what he wanted.
"You don't have to do this."
But it was too late. The kid had already started to unzip the older man's pants. And when he had managed to release the monkey, Matthew stared at the shaft in front of him. It was big.
Professor Hubbard wanted the kid. This was payback for the restraint and control he demonstrated the last time they were together. Matthew's hard body flexed with his efforts, and that pleased his teacher.
As his tongue licked the length of the cock, Matthew felt how hot and throbbing it had become. It had a unique taste to it, half intoxicating, half masculine. He followed the length of it from tip to base, and then back up. At the same time, the kid felt his teacher's chest and six pack.
Slowly, but excruciatingly, he took his time. He expertly lapped at the length, teasing the triangular region below the slit with his tongue, sliding his tongue across the phallus in intermittent laps. His soft lips pressed against the head and down along the side, making his teacher uneasy in his seat.
"Please... Matthew."
Professor Hubbard begged the kid to continue. It was intense, first-rate. And when Matthew swallowed the head, his lips moved along the circumference of the cock, eliciting approving gasps from his teacher. Then the kid felt a hand on his head, half urging him on, half holding him in place.
"This feels so good Matthew."
With his fingers holding the base of the cock so that it did not slip away, he moved his lips over the head and took it down completely. He began to bob his head up and down, down the length and girth, pulling slowly back, and down again. It was repetitive, intense.
The danger and thrill of it surprised Professor Hubbard. Matthew was his student, a jock in all respects. The kid played baseball, hung out with the fraternity crowd, and banged beautiful chicks left and right. And here was the same kid in his office, during the middle of the day, on his knees giving him incredible oral pleasure. It was mind blowing.
The agony and stimulation went on like it would never end. However, as much as he had wanted to maintain the action, Professor Hubbard could not. Fifteen stimulating minutes got him over the edge, but the climax was by far the best part. He erupted with an intensity he himself did not expect, and as his face contorted, he coated Matthew's chest and neck with semen. Out of breath, he looked down to see the handsome kid looking back at him.
"You don't think this makes me gay, do you?
"Not necessarily Matthew."
Matthew wiped himself clean, and without further discussion, left. No longer certain of why he came to visit his professor, the kid left more disturbed than when he came.
Later that night, Matthew's confusion drove him insane. The first time he gave himself to his professor was out of repayment, but the second time was much more complicated. It wasn't so much the fact that he sucked another guy's cock. It was precisely the notion that he was in love with Professor Hubbard that frightened him the most. For the first time in his life he was in love, and he didn't know how to react.
Matthew ran into the rain and allowed himself to get lost. He didn't care where he was going, out into the fields, on the road, only that he was going away. All he could think of was to get away, as far away as possible, away from town, away from life. And when he showed up outside Jose's room, his wet clothes were plastered against his body.
"Matt, are you OK?"
"Do you want to go for a drink?" asked Matthew, almost to the point of breaking down.
Jose carefully looked Matthew over, reading him and interpreting what was going on. "Sure, let me get my coat. You need to get in some dry clothes."
"No, I don't."
"You do."
"No," persisted Matthew. He couldn't think. All he wanted was a drink. "Can we please go for a drink?"
Jose thought for a moment before he asked, "Matt, do you respect me?"
"I do, Jose."
"Then we will go somewhere to talk about your problem. But first, we will drop by your room to get some clothes."
"Alright," said Matthew, as he gave into Jose's request.
Four hours later, after much drinking and talking on the part of Matthew, Jose brings him back to bed. He undresses his friend and covers him up, then leaves for his room.
Matthew had told Jose everything, and although Jose took it seriously, his jealously was great. He had refrained from touching Matthew precisely because the kid had assured him that he wasn't interested in the same sex. Yet Matthew gave his professor a blow job, not once, but twice. And making out with Alex was unacceptable. It was too much. It was more envy than he could contain. Jose felt he deserved Matthew more than anyone else, yet he was at the end of the stick.
Envy is something that is hard to contain. And when it is coupled with frustration, it magnifies. Jose wanted the kid, the smooth, hard body, the innocent personality. And yet Matthew gave himself to someone else.
The next evening, when Jose dropped by, Mathew was already in bed. As usual, he was shirtless with a lounge pant on. He looked up to see his friend.
"Jose, what's up?"
Jose didn't respond. Matthew, nevertheless, continued, "I feel like crap. I've been in bed the whole day. Thanks for taking care of me last night."
Jose stripped his clothes off, leaving only his boxers on. He wasn't excited, but Matthew could discern a sizeable bulge. Jose was immense. At the same time, he had a great body. Tall, dark, he had the smooth glowing skin to go with it. And he was ripped. Working on the farm had helped to shape his body in all the right places. Every curve, every undulation of his upper and lower body came from hard work. Not a 45-minute weight training regime, but the manual labor of farm life.
In slow motion, Jose did the unexpected. He climbed into bed and forced himself onto Matthew, bringing his mouth over his friend's. He ignored the kid's initial resistance. The warm hands on his chest, somewhat pushing him away, were easily forgotten. He knew what he wanted from the kid, and he wasn't going to take no for an answer. Not this time.
He was, however, an artful kisser, taking as well as receiving. Swapping tongues, he maneuvered his way down, taking what he wanted, but trying his best to give what he could. He tasted the kid. Sucking Matthew's skin into his lips, he nipped his friend's neck, shoulders, working down the arm.
"Jose, please don't," pleaded Matthew.
Ignoring his friend's cries, he went up to cover the kid's mouth with his. Taking more and giving more, he wanted to please Matthew, to give life. He made another passionate plea with his soft but urgent lips. He moved down again, pressing his tongue against the kid's chest, sucking the left nipple, moving down to the flat stomach. Exploring Matthew's navel, he spent time there while his entire body went to work.
Massaging his friend's inner and outer thighs with one hand, he ran his other hand over the kid's broad chest, feeling the hard muscles underneath. Undulating his body against the kid's groin, he was intent on stimulating his friend. Matthew could feel Jose's cock sliding up and down against his lower body.
Finding the rope, Jose pulled the lounge pants apart, slipping his hands in to pull it down. Feeling and lapping at the region between Matthew's legs and cock, he prepared for his finale.
"Jose, I can't," gasped Matthew.
But it was too late. Matthew had been without sex since his father had the heart attack, and Jose had already latched his mouth to the mound underneath the kid's pants. Matthew went immediately stiff. He couldn't think, he couldn't concentrate. Yet he felt Jose pleasure him. And then, all of a sudden, all he could think of was getting relief.
All he wanted was for the experience to go away. He wasn't terrified, but he didn't feel right. Jose was his childhood friend, Jose was a stud in the purest sense. Why was Jose blowing him?
Going up for another well-meant kiss, Jose stopped before his face touched Matthew's. He looked at the kid staring back at him, trying to read him. Jose went in for another kiss, giving Matthew a taste of his own cock.
Up and down, down and up, Jose came down upon the kid's cock, like it was the only thing he ever wanted to do. Matthew tasted great, and Jose's long attraction for him only intensified the experience. When the kid was ready, Jose allowed him to cum, all of which he swallowed.
Not since Gordon had sucked him, had Matthew felt so thoroughly relieved. Jose's skills were a cut above. Yet Jose was his friend. How could this have happened?
Breathless and wet with sweat, Mathew felt Jose crawl up to lie beside him. Maintaining plenty of body contact, Jose's incredible cock laid against Matthew's leg. Flaccid and covered by the thin cotton material of Jose's underwear, the shaft was warm and huge.
Two naked bodies lay side by side, mouths half open, half shut, panting for air. Close, yet separate, Jose was also out of breath. But as he recovered, his mouth moved slightly toward the kid's. His free hand found Matthew's face and pulled it close to his. Finding his friend's mouth, he gave up air for another kiss.
Jose sat up, reached to his side, and opened the nearby drawer. He found a box of condoms. He pulled his boxers completely off, exposing himself completely. Matthew glanced at his friend and discovered he had guessed the size correctly. Jose was hung.
Jose unwraps the condom and rolled it on his massive pole. "I'm going to fuck you." He climbed back into bed. "It's going to be good, I promise," promises Jose, as he moved his friend's legs apart.
"I can't do this Jose..." But he couldn't finish his sentence. His friend's mouth covered his, and Jose's body pressed him down.
Jose's mouth worked the kid. As his hands felt the kid up, his fingers began to feel between Matthew's legs. Jose expertly maneuvers his cock in place. Using his free hand, he guided the tip to Matthew's rosebud. He let it linger there, against the entrance. All the while he continued to passionately make out with the kid. Matthew was devoured again and again.
Jose directed his erection against and around the entrance, moving it in a circular motion. Experimenting, tasting, getting it ready for the inevitable.
"I can't, Jose, I can't..." cried Matthew, as he's engulfed by more tongue, by more weight.
And then it was over, Jose had entered Matthew is a way that was so simple, so unexpected. His cock got past Matthew's sphincter and slipped all the way through. Jose continued to taste his friend's mouth, all the while letting the kid get use to his size.
Sure he was large, but he'd never gotten any complaints. It had more to do with skill than his good looks. He had gone far. A stud that no girl could resist. Jose was a lover, and those that received his love, be it man or women, boy or girl, could not get enough of him.
For Matthew, time stood still for the next 10 minutes. Everything around him was in motion, except him. It was almost as if his body was frozen in time. Matthew's body was racked with pain and another kind of intensity. The strong, rhythmic thrusts from Jose were unending. At times they were done with great care, at times they were hard and painful, at times they were more intense than anything he had ever felt.
Jose knew what he was doing. He aimed and hit the right spot each time, stimulating Matthew from the inside out. The kid's prostrate received plenty of attention. Too much.
Jose fucked his friend, bringing Matthew near the top. And when the kid approached it, Matthew reached orgasm without touching himself. Jose was artful, he knew how to make it pleasurable for Matthew. And when it was his turn, he pulled out before ejaculating onto the kid's chest and abdominals instead of inside of him, spraying Matthew with all he had. Breathless, Jose remained on top of the kid.
"I love you," said Jose, as his lips met the kid once more.
"Please leave."
"I'm sorry, Matt."
"I don't want to see you," answered the Mathew. "Please leave." Tears ran down Matthew's face. He turned away and buried his mouth into the pillow, as he cried over the loss of his dignity. Jose was supposed to be a good friend, yet he did not behave like one. Matthew had been fucked.
Jose had crossed the line and he knew it. Matthew was like a kid brother to him. Someone who looked up to him and respected him, someone who wanted to be like Jose. Yet he had taken advantage of the kid in the worse way. Matthew had protested, yet Jose had ignored it. Like Gordon had, Jose had wronged Matthew, and he couldn't take it back.
When Jose came back to apologize the next day, Matthew was not around. He had left early in the morning without giving notice to anyone. Jose waited for the day to pass by, working especially hard on the farm to rid his guilt. Yet Matthew was no where to be found. One day passed, then another, and he had still not come home.
To Be Continued... jason99usa@yahoo.com