"What would it take to get you to suck a dick?" Her voice was strong and cutting. We had been joking around a little but I wasn't sure if the question was supposed to be a joke.
"A million dollars!" I laugh, deciding to play it like it was a joke. The hotel bar was nearly empty, just the three of us sitting at a table in the corner, getting served by a sleepy bartender watching sports highlights on the TV. Angela and Sam, those were their names. I think that's their names. We were all killing time in the hotel bar, watching the end of a college football game, and had struck up a conversation. I was stuck here for another night because my plane was overbooked. I don't know what their story was.β¨β¨The game had been over for an hour and we were still chatting. Sam had a couple of days of stubble, and wore an expensive watch with a button down shirt and jeans. Angela was a heavyset and comfortable with it. She wore a top that emphasized her generous cleavage and a skirt that emphasized her hips. Her long, black hair was pulled into a braid that casually fell over one shoulder. She wasn't my type, physically, but she had personality to burn.
She put her beer bottle down on the table with a loud clink. "That's such a lame answer. Kind of a cop out, isn't it?" She leans forward now, challenging me. "You've never been curious? Not even a little bit?"
I still laugh, "Nope, not at all. Is that so wrong?" I'm lying, and I can't tell if she knows.
"You've had your dick sucked, I assume, and enjoyed that?"
She waits, staring at me and I listen to the silence at our table. How do you even answer that question? "Of course I've had my dick sucked, it's awesome. I just think actually sucking isn't for me. I admire those who can do it, but it can't be easy." I smile my warmest, most flirtatious smile and drink from my beer when I think I can't hold it any longer, tasting the bitter, warm sips from the bottom of the bottle.
Angela has been a little flirtatious all night, but now she was getting aggressive about it. My eyes glance over at Sam, and I see that he is watching me very closely. Uncomfortably closely. It's like they know I'm hiding something and want to watch me crack. I should have just said goodnight and gone back to my room, but I like playing with fire. If these people want to stir the pot, I can do that too.
"What's it take to get you to suck a dick," I ask Sam.β¨β¨He laughs. "Not that much, when you think about it. A nice smile and good manners."
"Really? And how many dicks have you sucked?"
"Four."
"Five," she corrects him. "Remember the one..."
He smiles and looks at me. "Oh yeah, the premature, you know. Does that count?"
"You swallowed."
He finishes his beer and looks at me. "If she says it counts, then it counts. Five."
Not the answer I was expecting. Not from this urban cowboy, not by a mile. I feel like the whole room has shifted. They could have been playing around, but not anymore. There was a distinct sexual charge in the air.
The truth is I was a little curious about sucking a guy off, but never curious enough to chase it down. Outside of masturbating with a guy friend once at a high school sleepover, I'd never done anything remotely gay in my life. But I was curious, and Angela seemed to know exactly what buttons to push to hook me.
"Let's get more specific," Angela said. "What would it take for you to suck Sam's dick?"
That caught me completely off-guard and made me freeze. Tingles ran down my back. The conversation had been a little flirtatious up until now, but this was a bold declaration. Something in her tone made it anything but hypothetical. I finished my beer and looked at Sam. His strong jaw, broad masculine shoulders, streaks of grey in his short black hair. As soon as she said it, the idea of kneeling in front of him popped into my mind. Would I do it? Could I do it?
Looking at him, maybe I could. Judging from the shiver that ran through me, maybe I really wanted to. Sam was masculine and rugged. The idea of kneeling and looking up at him seemed suddenly quite real. That thought scared the hell out of me, what was happening here? Was she really propositioning me, or was this just more bar talk?
I don't know how long I thought about how to answer. It was probably just a couple of seconds, but felt like an eternity in my head as I raced through a million different things to say. "Right here? Probably a lot more beer!"