We're barely out of the driveway when I lean over Tyler's stomach, unbuckle his seatbelt and start unbuttoning his shorts. He keeps driving.
I lick the head of his cock playfully and for a moment I feel like something's pushing against my head. Like...a hand. His hand.
I sit up and look at him. He's looking at the road.
"What?"
"Don't."
"Don't what?"
"I'm not in the mood for a blowjob." He doesn't even look at me when he says it. "What? You said we'll see.' What gives?" This is me protesting. And damn well I should; he did say we'll see' and I took that as a guarantee. Probably stupid of me, but come on.
"I said," Tyler said bluntly. "I'm not up for it."
"Fine." I settle back in my seat and watch the scenery go by. Lots of trees getting their leaves back this time of year.
After five minutes, I look over. Tyler's still staring dead-ahead like some crazy NASCAR driver. His cock is limp against the folds of his shorts. Hmm. Doesn't want a blowjob but doesn't repackage the goods. Odd.
Sigh. The silence is unbearable. I'm used to having someone to talk to. Used to having voices around me. Cock-loose Tyler over there...he's not helping. So I decide to do something about it.
"You wanna tell me what's up?"
"No." Still staring straight ahead.
"Why don't you tell me why you let me come over last night, hmm? Why don't you tell me why I sucked you off, why you liked it, and why we ended up falling asleep together?"
I don't say it hatefully, and I'm not even out for a guilt-trip. I just want the truth. That's fair enough.
Tyler looks at me, with those hot eyebrows angled sharply. Maybe this is him being angry. Or confused. And he goes back to watching the road.
"Alright," he says after a minute.
"You ready to tell me what's up?"
"Shut up for a second, John."
I shrug and play along. This guy could full-nelson me into the middle of next week. That's not a bad thing—I'd rather prefer it—but he's imposing. I think I know better than to piss off a wrestler.
"Okay," he says slowly. Like he's trying to make sense of his own words. "You know...I have a girlfriend."
"Sarah, yeah. So what?"
"You know I can't cheat on her. You know that."
A bigger sigh this time. This is irritating. Pure and simple.
"Christ, Tyler. You're worried about cheating on the love of your life? And then you go ahead and sleep with me. That's love, I tell you what."
He slams on the breaks and we both lurch forward a bit as the car comes to a stop. It's a backroad, so I highly doubt anyone will raise hell.
"We can't do this anymore, John. It's...it's not right." His breathing gets erratic. "Okay," I say quietly. Give the boy some room. (and that's exactly what he is. 17 years of perfected boyhood. Perfected, hot, dripping masculinity boyhood). "If you don't mind...how is it weird?"
"Jesus!" his voice is loud and shrill. Kinda like the kid who peeks at his Christmas presents early to find a surprise that immediately loosens his bowls. "You sucked my fuckin' dick, John! If that's not the height of fucked up, then what is?"
"Lying about it," I say plainly.
He catches himself and calms down. "Okay, you've got a point."
"Oh I know that," I patronize. "Wha about you moaning as I sucked you off. What about falling asleep in my arms? Jesus, you gave me dry clothes to change into, bent over in the locker-room to show me your ass and more. What the hell were you doing?"
"I...I don't know. I thought it would be interesting."
"It's so fortunate, isn't it? I almost remember what my life was like before I became a cock depository." By the time I reach the end of the sentence, my voice reeks anger.
It comes without warning. Tyler leans in and kisses me hard. Throwing his tongue past my lips. Time stops like it always does, and he pulls away.
"That was real," he says. "You're not a tool, John. And I never thought so. But I know you like me. Shit you've probably been jacking off to me for years. Not that I blame you, but I wanted to see what it was like."
"To take advantage of someone?"
"To be a fag, goddamnit!"
My hand flies through the air and leaves a sore spot on his cheek the color of roses and blood.
"I'm not. A fag. And I swear to God, if you ever call me that again I'll rip your cock off and feed it to you."
He rubs his cheek, and for a moment I think I see a tear stream down his face. "Now," I continue. "Barring your little science experiment. Tell me what you thought. How did it feel to have your cock sucked by me instead of Sarah?"
"You were better at it," he says quietly.
"Sure I was."
"Yeah." More tears. I pull a tissue from the center console and hand it to Tyler.
"Christ, don't cry. I'm sorry I hit you."
"I'm sorry, John. For everything. I was a dick, and..."
"Tell me something, Tyler."
"What?"
"Honestly. Tell me if you liked it."
Through teary eyes, he smiles. "It was great."
"Alright," I say and smile right back "That's all I wanted to know.
"I don't follow." He dries his eyes.
"If you enjoy it, and God knows I do...then it's not weird. Make sense?"
"Yeah," he says softly. "It does. But..."
"What?"
"Sarah can't know about this."
"Not a problem."
Not at all...