"Yeah," I wrote. I had calmed a little, not much. "When was the 1st time? Were you in school?"
"Hell no! You crazy LOL? Not until November 2002. Been almost 2 years."
"I'm surprised you didn't do it in college," I wrote.
"Still lived at home. Didn't move out officially until I graduated. Lived in a dorm the first 2 years so no opportunity there. Went off-campus after that but with three other guys, so no opportunity there either. Didn't consider it until I had moved to Ijamsville. Now I never look back."
I wrote hesitantly: "Where do you usually meet? In your apartment?"
"Mostly, yeah. Twice I've met them someplace else, but mostly they like the privacy of my apartment. Beats the front seat of a car, LOL."
"Or the backseat," I wrote.
He asked me again: "Are you interested, Jerry?"
"Yes," I wrote honestly. "But very scared."
"You have a right to be. My first time I was scared shitless and I didn't even do anything. In fact, I was probably more scared than he was. I was petrified I couldn't get it up. Could you imagine? Having a guy ready to give you head and not being able to get it up?"
"LOL. That would be a nightmare, wouldn't it? It didn't happen then?"
"Not yet. As soon as the guy touched me I started to grow. I got hard as a rock in his hand. He stroked me for about two minutes and then began to kiss it. Now THAT I liked, LOL."
"I guess you would. Was he gay?"
"No, married. All of them have either been straight, married or bisexual. 4 of the 6 were married. If you do it, you will definitely be the youngest one."
My hands were shaking again. "How would we do this? Do I drive up to your place?"
"Yes, and only at night."
I understood that immediately. My fantasizing took place exclusively at night. I had never even thought about gay-sex in the daylight. "It couldn't be this weekend," I wrote him back, and then asked myself why not. I had nothing lined up and nothing in the works. Fear, I guess. I followed up with: "I said that because I'm scared, Rob. There's no reason we couldn't get together tomorrow night or Saturday night. If you're free."
"I'm free and very willing to meet you. (Spelled "Anxious", LOL.) Want directions to my place?"
"Yes," I replied. My hands shook worse than ever. I jumped at the sound of my brother laughing downstairs and was sure I could be seen through the curtained windows. My penis ached with longing and leaked semen against my right thigh. I wanted to tell him so, but couldn't gather the courage.
"From Germantown, take 355 or I-270 to Route 80. Take 80 north/east to Prices Distillery Road, turn right on Ijamsville Road, and follow it north to Mahogany Run." He gave me the street address and the apartment number of his place, which I won't repeat here. "The next question, I guess, is when. And what do you look like, Jerry?"
Add embarrassment to trepidation. "Saturday night would be best, I think," I told him. "And I'm 5'9", weigh 165#, brown eyes and brown hair, and I'm white."
"LOL. White here too, 5'11", 170#, brown and brown also. I'm cut if you're interested--" which meant circumcised. "--and 7-1/2" and thick. You?"
I wanted to laugh. I almost did. I was nearly too jittery to write. "Also cut and 6" long. Normal thickness. Takes a small hook to the left. That okay?"
"Fine," he wrote back. "Just fine. Only keep in mind . . ."
He didn't have to say the rest. I understood. "I'll do all the sucking," I promised.
* * *
Saturday night arrived and I was a schizoid-paranoia attack waiting to happen. Everyone knew what I was doing tonight. Everyone knew I'd be on my knees in a few hours gobbling cock. I had neglected to bring up the subject of sperm in the mouth again and feared he'd expect it now. I had no idea if I could. I had no idea if I wanted to. The idea of cock in my mouth was enough to drive me nuts. The idea of swallowing? I shuddered mightily. "Get a grip on yourself," I whispered shakily. It was seven o'clock and getting dark outside. I already knew the way because I had driven up there last night to scope the place out. I had never been to Ijamsville before but felt I could navigate the main roads now blindfolded. Of his apartment house I could recite the number of steps to the front stoop, the number of windows in the front of the building, the makes and models of all the cars parked out front and the sex and colors of at least four of his neighbors. Two were females and one very cute. The other was a Goth and cute in her own way. I pray that he hadn't seen me.
We had set the time for nine o'clock so I could get back at a decent hour. I felt surprisingly stupid asking how long it would take but he came saying about two hours, if I wanted to talk. I wondered how long I could suck. Stupid sounding, I know, but I had never actually considered it before. The blow jobs I had received hadn't really lasted that long. Five or ten minutes, max. Getting it over with and done was a girls' ambition, I imagined. Who wants to suck if it's expected of you, even if its safer. I suddenly felt very sorry for girls.
At eight o'clock I told mom when to expect me back and went out to my car. I was jumpy as a cat at a canine convention and was sure the engine wouldn't start. Then, because I feared running out of gas, I topped off my three-quarters full tank at the Exxon. I really was a mess.
On the way up the road I recited my greetings. "Hello, Rob. I'm Jerry." "Hi, I'm Jerry from the chat room." "Remember me? I'm Jerry."
What if this was all a joke. What if some twisted friend of mine had discovered my screen name and set me up. What if Jerry the twenty-four year old nice-guy turned out to be Jerry the forty-year old redneck trucker who didn't except teenage boys knocking on his front door. What if friends planned a surprise party for me as a Halloween present. I almost turned the car around.
At eight-thirty I pulled into his parking lot and waited. At ten minutes to nine, I stopped twisting my hands in my lap and got our and locked the door. At five minutes to nine, I did the same thing and walked to the building. I climbed the stoop and pressed the button marked 3C and waited.
"Jerry?"
"Uh-huh."
"It's open, okay?"
The door buzzed and I grabbed the handle like a malfunctioning robot. My whole body felt like a malfunction--especially my bowels, which felt like warm dishwater--and I opened the door and went inside. I climbed the three flights of stairs to the third floor landing and there, as advertised, standing in the open doorway of his apartment, grinning uncertainly, was my date.
"Hi there," I said lamely.
"Hi there. You gonna come in?"
His grin had widened because unconsciously, I had stopped on the last riser before the third floor landing. I certainly wanted to flee. I wanted to turn tail on those steps and scramble down them like out of a burning building. Instead, I stepped up onto the landing and approached the door. He had on jeans and a long-sleeve vee-neck sweater and Reeboks. His hair was brown and longer than I had imagined, and he was freckled lightly across the nose and cheeks. His appearance was that of a shoe-store salesman or maybe a someone from Best Buy. In other words, normal.
"I'm Jerry," I said stupidly and stuck out my hand. He shook it and stepped back to let me in. His apartment was what you'd expect of a Best Buy employee: mismatched couch and chairs, a coffee table that looked like a Big Lots special, Wal-Mart lamps on mismatched end tables, and a large oval area rug covering most of the floor space. On the plus side was that the place looked immaculately clean, the flooring under the rug was gleaming wood, and he had a full dining room set, complete with china cabinet. Personal touches such as Redskins and Baltimore Ravens pennants on the walls, a three story waterfall with about a dozen potted plants stuck in one corner, a large component stereo system featuring Harman-Kardon equipment, a wide-screen projection TV and pictures of sports team gave the place a nice homey feel.
"Take your jacket?" he asked.
"Yeah, thanks." I took it off and handed it to him. He hung it on a line of pegs beside the front door. I watched him, thinking distractedly that between his legs was a 7-1/2" long penis with my name on it.
"Something to drink? I have Coke, diet-Coke, Pepsi, ice-tea, even bottled water."
"No thanks," I said, then, "Bottled water?"
