Say Goodbye to Sparkleland

Say Goodbye to Sparkleland Chapter 2

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2

"Who's next?" Logan asked.

I stared at my journal, my "black book." It was literally black.

I hated doing this. But it was my idea to see Logan. Dr. Logan Horwood. My friend from college. The one who didn't fix Cooper's and my relationship. For some reason he felt reviewing my past sexual history would dive to the root of my problems. I didn't see it. But Logan was my choice for therapist. He knew me. He knew all about me. I thought that would put us on the fast track for me getting better.

I took a deep breath.

"Number Two. Oran Spackman. Eighteen. Six foot. Two-inch dick when soft, maybe six inches when hard, maybe a little less. Cut. Low-hung balls. His bed."

"Out of curiosity, how do you get these measurements?"

"They are assumptions, okay?" I groaned in disapproval of me sharing all these personal experiences. "I told you I started this journal in college. I had to go back and remember."

Logan jotted something on a pad.

"What do you write down?"

"Just notes for me to enter into your file, perhaps to see if I can put things together."

"What's to put together? I like dick!"

He laughed under his breath.

"If you must know, I've used my own dick as a comparison. It's about six-and-a-half inches. Sometimes I feel it is a touch longer, but that may just be wishful thinking."

"Jealous," he blankly said.

"Thanks."

"Tell me about him."

"Oran. He was friends with a lot of people. Fairly popular. Very popular with girls. I think some people called him Oral behind his back. I hope he never heard that nickname. It was kind of cruel."

"So, people suspected he was gay?"

"He never said it or spoke of it, as far as I know. But ... he didn't hide it either. I mean, he wasn't in a thong prancing around in heels wearing a pink feather boa, but ... suspected?? I think it was more assumed."

"Was he bullied?"

"No. I don't think so. I never saw anyone mistreat him to his face. His confidence probably helped. I did hear comments said behind his back though."

"And how did that make you feel?"

"Hmm. Good and bad." Logan raised an eyebrow at my answer. "Well, I knew I was gay, so part of me felt good that I wasn't the only one on planet Earth. But it made me wonder if people talked about me too."

"Had anyone questioned you?" Logan asked.

"Not to my face. Until..."

"Until?"

"Sometimes we would walk off campus for lunch. Several of us were at Chipotle scarfing down burritos. There were lots of people with tables pulled together. Oran happened to be sitting across from me. When people started getting up to clear their trays, he quickly slipped a note under my tray. I saw him do it. His eyes looked at mine. If they conveyed anything, it was, `Shhh.' I slipped the note in my pocket. The two of us didn't say anything. I walked back to campus with other friends. I didn't take the note out until I was in my next class."

"What did it say?"

"I think you're like me. I hope so."

"What did you think?"

"I thought it was super brave. Nick had enough courage to approach me the year before, and then Oran. I knew, deep down, I never would have had the guts to say anything like that."

"Tell me about him."

"Oran wasn't necessarily effeminate, but he wasn't manly. He'd never talk about sports. It was about pop stars and movies and TV, but never football, but also never ... fashion and all that."

"How well did you know him?"

"Casually, from two shared classes. I wouldn't have called him a friend, at least not a close one. But we were friendly to each other. When groups of friends would go out for lunch, we were sort of `group friends' in that regard."

I didn't know what to make of Oran's note. He didn't use any words that specifically screamed "gay," but that was the only meaning I could take from it. Why did he approach me? I often suspected he was gay; why had I been so afraid to approach him? Was it because I thought others might suspect me?

Something in me developed a spine. I knew where his locker was; I would approach him at the end of the school day.

After the last period bell rang, I slammed things in my locker and sorted my backpack to take home. I went around the corner to where I knew his locker was. He was talking to three girls. They were all smiling and laughing. He seemed happier than I was. Was it because he was himself?

Oran was not a hunk. He didn't have a quarterback's body, but he was cute. I loved his haircut. His sandy-colored hair complemented the soft green of his eyes. He wasn't as tall as me, but he certainly wouldn't be considered short.

I held back not wanting to interrupt. Or was it because I didn't want to get caught? No. All those girls knew me too. But if I went up to talk to him, would they have suspected? Suddenly I was a beehive of nerves and doubt.

With the way my heart was pounding, I was wondering if I was better off being silent. In the background. Unnoticeable.

He saw me.

Suddenly I had the same feeling as when I saw flashing lights of a police car in my rearview mirror last month. I stopped breathing.

He smiled. He said something to the girls that made them smile and nod. They began walking down the hall.

"Okay. Here goes," I whispered to myself.

I walked the twenty feet to him — which seemed like the length of a zip code — and gave an awkward wave on my approach.

"Hi."

"Hi, Mitchell."

"So." I had no idea what to say. "Your note.."

He nodded. He didn't say any words, but I felt there was a touch of confidence in his nod. He wasn't embarrassed or ashamed or afraid.

"Want to go somewhere and talk?"

"Okay," I said.

My spine felt stronger. I wasn't going to hide that it was just "us two." We walked with our backpacks to the parking lot. He leaned on his car.

I still didn't know what to say. What exactly was he hoping to hear?

Oran looked down. "You probably hear people talk about me." Then he looked me in the eyes. "I'm gay. And ... I'm okay with that."

"Okay. Me too."

"Me too that you are okay with me being gay or me too that you're gay too."

The silent pause seemed like forever. I couldn't form my answer. Then I realized that I still missed Nick and I still was attracted to boys and it was nice to be able to talk to him without hiding.

"Both."

Oran smiled at me.

"Can I ask why you thought I was?"

"Did it bother you?" he asked, giving off an air of authority.

"No. I just don't ... what gave it away?"

"My older brother has a gay friend in college. I heard the term gaydar."

I cocked my head trying to put that all together.

"The way you hold back sometimes. You never flirt with girls. I've even seen you glance at guys from time to time. I knew. Well, I assumed."

"Wow. You're a detective."

Oran laughed.

"We met up after school that day. It was awkward for me at first — to talk about `things' and everything. But it really became easier. The parking lot was almost empty when we headed home. It was just so nice to talk and not hide anything. Not that we talked about anything remotely sexual, but ... I was me."

"It's nice to not have to hide."

"Totally. I didn't have to with Oran. I looked forward to seeing him. It's not like we became boyfriends — at first — but it was liberating. I wouldn't say he was the type that was garnering my attention. Physically, he was cute enough. I was probably more interested in the jock type. Foolishly. We could talk openly, and that's what I really liked. After a few days, we were comfortably talking about who we thought was cute in school, actors we found handsome, seeing guys undress in P.E. our junior year."

"Did you worry about others?"

"Not really. Once in the parking lot, a guy hung out his window and yelled at us. He called us fags. We blew it off. Because we were. By then, I felt, what if he yelled out, `White guys!' I mean ... we were gay, so ... I didn't really care. Not that we had done anything really, but I didn't care what others thought anymore."

"Buuuuut ... he eventually made the book."

"Yeah. Not at first. He asked me if I wanted to go to his house one day after school. His parents worked and his older brother and sister were in college."

Oran's house wasn't quite as big as ours, but it was an average-size house. He offered me a soda and an ice cream bar as we entered the house.

We sat on the couch. I asked about his older siblings. He said they quibbled and fought when they were young, but once they left for college, they all got along beautifully when they returned home.

Once our ice cream bars were finished, he grabbed my leftover wooden stick and threw it away.

"Here," he motioned. "I'll show you the house."

There was a small study that had been turned into a working office. We just peeked in the master bedroom since it was his parents' room. The two other bedrooms shared a bathroom off the hall. He said the third bedroom was now the "guest room" — he said using air quotes and that they almost never had guests — but growing up, it was his sister's. We ended the tour with his bedroom. We sat on the bed, sipping our drinks. I looked at the posters on the wall and pictures from school he had tacked on his bulletin board.

"I like it."

"Thanks."

We leaned up against the two pillows on his bed. It was intriguing that we didn't go back to the living room.

He talked more about his siblings.

"Oran, do they know? Does your family know?"

"Am I out to them, do you mean?"

"Yeah."

"I told them last year. I knew. I don't think they were all that surprised. I mean..." He stretched out his arms and then flicked his hands toward himself. "Your parents?"

"No." I paused. "I think they will be okay with it, but I don't have a boyfriend, so why even bother?" I looked at Oran. "Did you?"

"No. I've never really had a serious boyfriend. I have kissed two guys. One at high school and one at church camp."

"Who at high school?"

Oran looked awkward. "I don't think I should say. He doesn't want people to know. I promised I wouldn't tell."

"That's okay."

"Mitchell," he started. "Can I kiss you?"

"I made out with Oran. It's funny. Nick and I had our hands all over each other's dicks, but we only kissed for a minute or two the last night. I have to say, as exciting as that was, making out was phenomenal. I had felt more pressure for that than I had being a virgin."

"Understandable," Logan said, infuriatingly jotting something down.

"Now, of course, it's all about the dicks. But back then..."

Logan leered at me like I was a despicable person. "Swell."

"Hey, you're my therapist, you can't judge."

"As your therapist, I can't. As your friend, I want to throw a stapler at you."

"I'm being honest!!"

"I swear I'm being honest," I said on my following visit. Oran and I had been kissing for a few minutes, and I confessed that I had held Nick's penis.

"Seriously?! What was it like?"

"I don't know, like a ... hard dick. It felt like mine. Maybe harder; it was really curved. It almost touched his navel."

Oran's eyes and grin lapped up every word I said as it exited my mouth. I felt like a televised news anchor.

"Wow. I never suspected him."

Oran then leaned over my body, pressing me to the bed again with a kiss. It was probably the most passionate kiss we had shared. I was loving making out with a guy. My right hand held his shoulder. His hand touched my jeans. I felt the button of my fly rip open.

I broke free of our kiss to see him pull my zipper down. Oh wow. Were we going to jack off like I did with Nick? I wasn't expected Oran to take my cock out. I felt the confines of my briefs pulled below my balls. In that moment I was certain I was going to touch his cock shortly.

Then.

Then he leaned down and let his tongue touch the head of my dick. His tongue licked all the way down the shaft. My mouth and eyes were wide open in amazement. Oran swallowed me.

"Oh wow.

"Oh man.

"Oh God.

"Ohhhh ... yes."

"After a week of us kissing, he finally took it further. I received my first blow job."

"Did you consider this a big step? You had already experimented with Nick."

"It was huge."

"Your dick is huge," Oran said. "It's longer than mine."

I hadn't seen Oran's dick, so I didn't know. He plunged back down on my hard-on. Basking in the feeling of a warm mouth on my stiff cock, I closed my eyes taking in every new sensation. I let my fingers caress his shoulder and then move up into his soft hair. His hair felt so good as I combed my fingers through it. His head moved up and down above my crotch. I opened my eyes again to watch it.

This was happening! I was receiving a blowjob.

I wished we were naked like Nick and me. I wanted to reach over and feel Oran's cock. Then it hit me that I could suck his cock next. Was I ready for that? Did I want to do that? Then Oran's tongue toyed with my erection as he sucked me. Yes! I wanted to do that. I wanted a cock in my mouth.

Sensations built inside my groin. My crotch was alive with stimulation. I was loving it. I reached down and pushed my jeans and briefs down a foot.

Oran used his hand to fondle my now-accessible balls. His fingers roamed around the dome of them. My balls never hung much; they were in a tight package. He pulsed his grip over it letting the fine hairs tantalize his fingertips.

I gasped, "Yeah."

Oran started bobbing and sucking and servicing my dick faster, more intensely.

"Ungh," I softly uttered. I wasn't sure if I was supposed to make any noise or not in someone else's house.

He was on his knees. One of his hands rubbed his own dick through his jeans. I wanted to see it, I wanted to see it, I wanted to see it.

Thoughts of seeing his cock brought me so close, I alerted him. "I'm about to come," I softly informed.

He pulled his mouth off. "I want to watch you," he said. His hand let go of his crotch and gently grabbed my shaft. Once his grip was in place, he jerked my hard-on fiercely. Both my hands clutched the bedspread in fists.

"Oh... Oh... Ohhh... Ohhhhh... Now. NOW!"

Cum shot from my cock a foot above my body.

"Wow," Oran said. "Keep coming!"

I did. Spurt after spurt as he continued his strong strokes on my organ. Eventually, he saw the last drops bubble out but yanked a few more times. I was glad. Each pull felt great.

"Were you comfortable with this development? Were you seventeen or eighteen?"

"He was eighteen at that point. I almost was. And, yes, I was thrilled. I felt I was ready for it."

"Had you been hoping for such a sexual experience?"

"Doesn't every horny teenager?"

"Was it ... mutual?"

I caught my breath. As I came down from my orgasm, Oran wiped me off with a tissue he pulled from a box on his nightstand. While I still felt a tad sticky, it was mostly cleared away.

Oran looked sheepish. "I – I know you just came and everything. I don't know if you would-"

"I want to!" I immediately confirmed. My sexual combustion was still at Full Steam Ahead.

I leaned up. I hadn't realized that Oran had managed to unfasten his jeans while he serviced me. I pulled the zipper down. He took both hands to push his jeans and underwear down a foot. His cock sprang out. I hovered over his crotch. First, I just wanted to look.

"I like your cock," I told him.

"Thanks. It's not as long as yours."

"It's thicker."

My hand reached to feel it. His hot, stretched skin in my grip felt glorious. I had now touched two penises that were not my own. Hard penises.

I had never given a blowjob. I hesitated in how to start. I turned toward his face. He was watching me. He gave me a smile.

"I've never done this."

"Do what you enjoy. It will feel good for me, too," Oran said. "Just watch the teeth."

I slightly nodded.

What does a dick taste like? Do you ever really blow? Do I lick it? How hard do I suck on it? Why didn't I think of any of these questions when he was blowing me? I could have taken better mental notes.

"It's okay, Mitchell."

I stretched out my tongue and lowered my head. I'm not sure why, but I just held his cock up and licked his balls for a minute. There was just the slightest taste of sweat; I liked it.

"Mmm. That's nice, Mitchell."

His testicles were nice, but it was time for me to dive into the deep end. I let go of his shaft and let my tongue travel from one of his balls up the base of the shaft up and around the head ... and then I swallowed it. I coughed as it gagged me from trying to go too far too fast.

"Slowly," he instructed.

A cock was in my mouth.

A cock.

My mouth.

IN my mouth.

A cock was in my mouth.

I let out a soft moan as I slid my mouth up and down this thick piece of teenage male.

"Yeeeeaaaahhhh," he softly groaned.

I was doing it. I was giving a real guy a real blowjob.

"Oh yes," I answered Logan. "It was mutual for sure. My first time doing it. But I loved it."

"Keep going," he said.

"Keep going, keep going, keep going!" Oran pleaded. "Ohh, Mitchy. It feels so goooood."

I was enjoying it so much that I didn't even register a vote on if I approved of Mitchy or not. We were several minutes into it, and I felt my cock get hard again. I kept sucking. Oran's panting and writhing and soft moans was fuel for my sexual appetite. Both his hands yanked the bottom of his shirt and ripped it over his head. That was hot to me. I moved my eyes off his organ to look at Oran's chest. He had a stripe of hair that grew from his pubes up to his navel and further into his pecs. I thought it looked masculine.

"Don't stop, Mitchell. I was close. Keep going. Suck me."

I plunged back on his mast. My tongue was getting involved more heavily. Oran's hips wriggled, and he slightly whined. He was making all of this really fun. I fumbled with my clothing. I clumsily tried to pull my dick out again, but I failed.

"Fuck." I took my mouth off of his cock and jumped off the bed. Oran was surprised, but he saw me take off all my clothes in seconds and didn't question it. I felt bold in my nakedness. I hopped back on the bed on my knees kneeling before his hard-on. Before I took it again, I had a request.

"Grab my cock again."

He did. "Suck me again."

I did.

I knew he had been close, but now we were both completely engaged. He yanked on my hard flesh while I serviced his adult piece. He panted hard while he pleasured me with his grasp. I bobbed my head faster.

"Oh yeah, oh yeah. Mitchell. Mitchell. Mitchell, I'm close."

That gave me pause. I wanted him to come, but I didn't want it in my mouth. I lifted my face and let my arm take over.

"Jerk me hard."

I complied and felt his hips raise.

I was surprised that his cum was thicker than mine. It didn't shoot as high, but it was in creamy ropes. He moaned through a long orgasm and then became lifelessly still. He made a long exhale.

Before I could attempt to clean him off, he raised his knees to pull his jeans completely down. He kicked them to the floor, and we lay there naked.

I took my finger and touched his thick, creamy cum. I brought my finger to my mouth.

"What does it taste like?"

"You've never tasted your cum?" His face slightly shook no. "It doesn't really taste like anything. It's all slippery texture."

I ran my finger through his cum and lifted it to his mouth. He licked it off my finger.

"Hm. Looks really hot but doesn't really do anything."

I took two fingers and wiped a good bit on them. I rubbed it on my tongue and then kissed him. His tongue reached deep into my mouth to find it. We kissed hard. While we kissed, I let my fingers gather more cum and then I rubbed it on his deflating erection. He laughed into our kiss. Before we pulled apart, his dick was a slippery, sticky mess.

"Now that was hot," he said. "Thank you."

"We were a good fit. After the second time we had ... intimate fun, he asked if we were boyfriends. I told him I was okay with that."

"So how long did you two see each other?"

"The last three months of school and several occasions during the summer."

"Did they all involve sex?"

I remembered a particular instance. I had always hated it.

"No. Later in my senior year, I was working part-time. I came home after work. The TV had been left on. I had grabbed something from the fridge and sat in the dark for a moment. Dad came out in only his boxers and turned off the television. Once he was back in the bedroom, my parents started ... making love. Can anyone ever listen to their parents having sex? It is so gross. All the lights were still off. They figured they had the house to themselves. I could hear them from the living room. I went to my room, and it was every bit as loud. I couldn't believe my parents could actually sound like that!!"

Logan slightly smiled.

"It wasn't funny! I wanted to turn on the stereo, anything. I didn't own headphones, or I would have put them on. I was petrified. I didn't want them to know that I could hear them. I was ashamed and pissed off and ... and ... freaked out and a bit scared. I don't know why, but I hated it. I felt like I shouldn't be there. I just didn't ever want to be in that situation — listening to them having sex. It went on for about 15 minutes. I listened to my dad ... ugh. Thinking about it makes me want to gag. I could tell ... he was ... he was coming. He all but screamed it. Listening to my mother squeal ... it was horrifying. I never thought my parents were capable of such intimacy."

"You were conceived by them, you know."

"Ugh. I knew I was gay, but that confirmed it in my mind. I wanted no part of being with a woman. I went back to the front door and slammed it like I was just coming home. I totally feel I was traumatized. I swore I would never let that happen to me."

Logan jotted some things down.

"Did this stop you from having sex with Oran?"

"For a little while. At first, I avoided him. And I hated that. Then I finally had to see him, but I was ... distant. It wasn't until he asked me what was wrong that I confided in him. He wasn't judgmental or anything. Honestly, he was very patient."

"So, what changed?"

"I really opened up to him. Finally, when we were alone at this place, he asked if we could take things slowly and be very quiet."

"And it worked?"

"Yeah. As we neared graduation, I asked my parents if he could sleep over. They said that was fine. Being in our house, I thought for sure we wouldn't really do much. Just kiss some."

"Your parents are nice," Oran said, as he wriggled up to me in the darkness of the bedroom.

"They're okay, I guess."

"Do you think they know?"

"About us? Maybe. I haven't said anything. They might suspect."

"Well, I don't come off as a jock."

I chuckled. My hand reached up to cup his face. I softly caressed it. I ran my fingers through his hair. He moved forward to kiss my lips. Our arms held each other tight. We kissed harder. We squeezed together harder. Our erections touched. Mine was getting harder. I wanted to touch him, to stroke him, to suck him. The temptation was getting harder.

Harder!

I reached under the covers and pulled off my briefs. Once he saw me, he did the same.

"This is such a mistake," I whispered, as I grabbed his cock. "What if my folks hear us?"

"We'll make sure they don't," he reassured. His hand found my hard-on.

We mutually groped each other as we kissed. I leaked pre-cum. Then Oran ducked his head below the bedspread and swallowed my shaft. I breathed in, trying to make sure I was 100 percent silent. I combed my fingers through his hair under the covers. A minute into it, it felt extremely wonderful. Two minutes into it, I knew I couldn't stop him if I wanted to. Three minutes into it, I could feel my climax building.

"I'm about to come," I whispered.

He didn't take his mouth off my cock.

"Oran, I'm-"

He placed a hand on my chest to keep me still. I was horrified that I was going to come in his mouth. There was no stopping it. I exploded, gasping for air. Every bit of my cum had shot into his throat and on his tongue. My cock continued to throb as he didn't cease from sucking down all that I had released into him. I panted and gasped in my exhilaration and my astonishment.

He pulled his head out of the covers. I could see him smile at me.

"Did you like that?"

"Totally. Fucking totally."

He giggled.

Oran stretched out his naked body to where just his feet and shins were under the bedspread. I wanted to hold his cock again. To stroke it. To pleasure it. To wield it.

"Oh yeah, Mitchell," he whispered on my first pulls. "Work it over."

I felt drips from my cock on my hip as I leaned over his body. My arm gave his erection a serious workout. He started wriggling and thrusting his hips. I thought that indicated he enjoyed it. He put an arm behind his head. The other one massaged his own chest.

I didn't want to resist any longer. My nose pressed to his cock, and I inhaled the entire length of it. Then my tongue lapped at his balls. I let go of his hard pole and licked it from base to tip. Then my lips engulfed it. He had already been so charged that it didn't take long to come.

"Mitchell." He panted softly. "Mitchell." His breathing became ragged. "Mitchell, I'm going to ..."

I didn't expect him to come in my mouth, but it all happened so fast. I never really wanted that, but after he did it for me, I felt I should return the service. The first shot went deep into my throat. Before I had a chance to react, I coughed and gagged. Part of his cum spurt on my chin as I pulled away. The rest hit his navel and dribbled on his pubes. I had let go and probably made it less of a great orgasm.

"I'm sorry. It just hit the back of my throat ... and I wasn't ready. I'm sorry."

His hands grabbed my face and pulled me down for a kiss.

"I still had fun."

I licked the remaining cum off his waist and then stretched my tongue into his mouth. We both smiled as we licked it and shared it.

"It was the night that a guy swallowed ... my orgasm ... for the first time."

"Any thoughts on that?"

"Well ... I guess ... yeah. I realized that I had no idea what all people could do when they had sex. I hadn't craved that, but when he did it, I guess I thought it was ... pretty amazing at first. Later in life, I felt it was hot. I still do."

I thought of the last nights Cooper and I made love last December. Everything we did was wonderful. We were so good in bed. He just wasn't good at trusting me. And I couldn't blame him.

"Mitch??"

"Hm? Oh, I just got lost in thought. When Cooper came out to me, he ... he had virtually no experience with men. None. I suppose I taught him everything in the time we were together."

"Do you think he ever taught you anything?"

"Hell, yeah. He got me over the fear of loud sex. I was actually kind of scared when he proposed it. I still have thoughts of hearing my parents."

"Want to talk about it?"

"Guck!! No. Ew."

"It sounds like it was pretty traumatic for you."

"Perhaps. At least Oran got me back into ... it."

"Did you ever tell your parents?"

"Heavens, no. But I don't want to give the wrong impression. I love my parents. They're great. They were immediately accepting."

"You just don't like thinking of them as people with real sexual desires," Logan said with a smile.

I chuckled. "I guess not." I paused. "People their age don't still have sex, do they?"

"I can assure you, they do," said Logan.

"Do you talk about it with your parents?"

"I'd rather be burned at the stake," Logan smiled, "But people of all ages enjoy it. The frequency might diminish, but desire is still there. If the body cooperates. Some people lose their desire, but some will do it as long as they physically can. Do you picture yourself ever not wanting to?"

"Hm. I haven't thought about it. I always get hard thinking about sex. I've never really considered stopping having sex."

"No one says you have to. Your sexual life will have stages."

His comments made me picture myself in my fifties and sixties. I remembered Emory in the coffee group alluding to sex every now and then, and he's retired. I guess I pictured myself always doing it. How would I feel if it came to a stop?

All this was new for me.

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