Maing up for Lost Time

OK, so I'm a little tipsy. Dinner had turned into drinks with Sarah, Tim, and their spouses, and soon enough it was past midnight. We hadn't seen each other in a while, and what else is there to do around here? It was the Friday after Thanksgiving, well now Saturday I guess, and after two long, loooooooong, days with my parents, my sister Julie, and Aunt Renee, I was practically climbing the walls to escape. Most years I would have driven back to Philly by now, but tomorrow night was my ten year high school reunion, so I was kind of stuck.

Rather than call an Uber home, I begin walking down Maple Street in the historic district. Even after a four hour meal, and more than a few margaritas, I just wasn't ready to go home yet. I pass a few bars and restaurants still lively with post-holiday noise, but I'd had my fill of neighbors and old classmates saying, "Andy Fisher is that you?" (it's Andrew now, thank you very much), at least until tomorrow, so I kept on walking to the divey part of historic district.

The 'h' light in 'Murphy's' had gone out, and the smell of stale beer carried even into the street. I nudged open the door to find a sullen crowd of people, drinking quietly, playing a half-hearted game of pool in the corner, or just dazedly staring at soccer replays on the tv by the bar. Not a single person in the dimly lit pub looked under forty five. Perfect.

I pull up a stool at the non-tv end of the bar, and waited to order a whiskey or something. It was gonna give me one hell of hangover tomorrow, but that was a perfect excuse to miss brunch and Aunt Renee giving part 548 in her thousand part lecture on why the world was going to hell.

I pull out my phone, and begin absent mindedly scrolling, when I feel the bartender's presence in front of me.

"Jack and Coke please," I said, not looking up. I lay down a twenty, and continue to scroll.

"Andy Fisher, is that you?"

Oh for fuck's sake.

I looked up, wondering who I knew who frequented this dump-- Oh God, it's Kyle Howard.

Kyle Fucking Howard. The star of most of my high school jerk off fantasies. Mister Jackson High himself.

I blink for a moment, locking eyes with him. The last decade had been kind to him. Really kind. He had filled out a little bit, but a close-trimmed beard did nothing to hide that distinctive all-american jawline, and good God, that black t-shirt was hanging on for dear life. He may not have had the perfect eight-pack abs from high school, but if anything, his arms were even thicker now than I remembered. And that little checkerboard tattoo on his bicep just--

"From Jackson High?"

Oh shit, I'd just been staring, "Yeah. Kyle, right?"

He smile, "In town for the reunion?"

I nod, "Yeah, I figured staying after Thanksgiving just made sense. What about you, are you still local?" Shit. Still? That totally made it sound like he couldn't escape.

He shook his head, "Nah, my uncle was a little short staffed, so I decided to pitch in for old time's sake."

"That was nice of you. Where's home?"

"Oh I'm in Philadelphia, what about you?"

"Oh... uh... same."

"Yeah, you went to Penn right?"

I blink, Kyle Howard had been the star quarterback, and the fucking prom king. Knowing my name was a big enough surprise, but actually remembering where I went to school? "Yeah. You went to NC state right? For... football?"

He gives a rueful smile, "UNC actually, but yeah, I played football there for the first couple of years. Let me go get you that drink."

Oh shit. There was a story there, I tried to remember, but my margarita-brain was not putting it together. I was about a third of the way through my Jack and coke, when I realized I could probably just google it. Sure enough, Kyle had been on the field his sophomore year, but had to stop after an injury. He finished up playing at some div two school, but I kind of went cross-eyed trying to figure out the intricacies of college football.

By the time I had finished my drink, I was brave enough to start up conversation again, "So, what do you do when not serving drinks at Murpy's?" I giggled a little bit.

He snorts, and rolled his eyes, "I'm glad I'm not the only one who noticed. I work in finance, what about you?"

"Oh, you know, sit behind a computer screen making the data dance correctly."

"Do you enjoy it?"

"Yeah... it's pretty good," he brought over another jack and coke, I hadn't ordered one yet, "So... I'm kind of surprised you remember me."

He shrugs, "well you were one of the only guys who was out in highschool. Kind of hard to forget."

"Yeah... I guess," ah yes, my one claim to fame. Despite that, I had managed to maintain a pretty low profile, mostly.

"That probably made highschool suck quite a bit."

I had basically avoided anything theater or sports related just so I wouldn't get teased so much, "Eh, it could have been better."

"Well, I'm sorry if I ever said or did anything shitty to you."

I shake my head, "Nah, you never did."

He smiles, "I'm kind of surprised you even want to go the reunion."

I shrug, "Well, I have some folks I wanted to catch up with. Besides, I don't really do social media, so I have no idea who crashed and burned over the last decade."

Kyle chuckles, "Well I'm divorced, so I probably count there."

"Oh shit man, I'm sorry."

"Eh, it was dumb idea to get married at twenty. Even dumber when it's your high school sweet heart."

Christ at this rate, I

should

reconsidering going tomorrow, "Eh, at least you have all of your hair."

"Yeah," he grins, "Wait until you see Bryce tomorrow, I've been trying to convince him to shave his head for the last six months," Oh that was going to be amazing. Bryce definitely fell in the homophobic highschool-asshole column, "You're lucky, you look even better now than you did in high school."

What? I coughed, "Uh thanks, I started going to the gym in college."

"It definitely shows, plus you've picked up some style." How well did he remember me in highschool?

"Well we can't all pull off the black t-shirt barely-restraining-my-muscles look." Oh my God, the Jack Daniels has destroyed my filter. I hope the booze-red of my face hides my blush.

Improbably, Kyle just grinned and flexes an arm. I watch the checkers of his tattoo move like a flag at a drag race. Somebody across the bar calls out, and he goes to help them. I can't help but catch a quick view of a very shapely ass.

It's past one, I have managed to maintain the barest grip on tipsy without rolling over into full drunk. OK, I'm a little drunk. Most of the bar has cleared out, save a few stragglers chatting in a corner.

"Hey uh... can I get a water?"

"You're not driving are you?" Kyle's brows furrow.

"No, but I'd prefer not to arrive home completely shit faced."

"Yeah the last time I helped out here, I threw up in my parent's bushes."

"Drinking on the job are you?"

"Well I'm only serving for tips. The rest my uncle pays me in drinks." Kyle looks around, reaches under the bar, and pours me a water and himself a bourbon.

We cheers with our drinks, and feeling a little more adventurous, or drunk, (probably drunk), I say, "So, you have any kids?"

"Oh God, no. Lisa does now, I've heard. She remarried already," He makes a sour face before taking a heavy swig, "What about you?"

"Well I haven't adopted any, and no matter how hard I try, I can't get pregnant."

Watching him dissolve into giggles was both adorable, and pants-tighteningly hot, "Yeah that's definitely an upside. Though considering I haven't gotten any in months, I'm not exactly in any danger."

"You? That, I can't believe."

He shrugs, "I work pretty long hours, and I don't really go out much these days."

"Come on, don't straight people have like hinge or tinder or something?" I snort, "If you were gay, you'd need one shirtless pic, if that, on an app to have guys lining up around the block for you."

"Really?"

"Yeah, I mean, have you looked at yourself?" Oh my god what am I doing?

He smiles, and I remember the dimpled face that filled sent me over the edge most nights at seventeen, "Thanks. But I don't know, it feels weird to message someone out of the blue. I haven't really dated much since the divorce. Like I don't really know how anymore."

"Well, I am one hundred percent certain, if you show up tomorrow wearing something tight, at least one person is going to throw themselves in your direction. Fuck. I'd take you out back right now if you--" I snap my mouth shut, I should not have had that last drink, "Woah, listen man, I'm really sorry, I--" I begin to stand up.

He put his hand on mine, "Andy, don't worry about it. I'm not offended," he stares at me, dark brown eyes shining, "honestly, I appreciate the compliment."

My brain feels fuzzy, and not because of the booze, "Uh you're welcome. Still I didn't mean..."

He chuckles, "It's OK. Honestly? I've always been a little bit jealous of gay guys. It just seems easier, you know?"

I shrug, "Well it has its ups and downs. But, yeah, hooking up is pretty easy, though some guys still dance around it."

"Yeah? I feel like girls have to do that too for appearances sake sometimes. With guys, what do you need to do to make sure they get it?"

"I just try to be straight about. Hah, I mean... I mostly just ask, if they want to have sex."

Kyle was silent for a moment, "I wouldn't mind trying, if you're up for it."

"I'm sorry, what now?"

Kyle's voice was low, "Did you want to have sex? I mean, you seem pretty into me, and even though I've never been with a guy, I've always thought about it."

I freeze like a deer in headlights, as it all clicked into place. Christ, Kyle Howard you are one smooth motherfucker. I grinned, "Fuck yes."

There's a self satisfied smirk on his face, he held out a finger, "give me ten minutes, and enjoy your water."

Kyle walked to the other side of the bar, turns the tv off and flicks on the lights. The last few drunks blink blearily before scuttling off into the night. As the doors closed, I became very aware that I was alone in the bar with him.

"So... uh... I don't actually have a place to go," he says slowly. The light has made things seem a little more real, and I wait for him to suddenly realize this is crazy and push me out.

"Neither do I." I bite a lip, I am hard as a rock, "Is anyone going to show up here?"

Kyle shook his head and steps out from behind the bar, he doesn't seem quite as tall as he did back in highschool, but he is still well over six feet. I mean, he's still a fucking football player, "So now what?"

I walked towards him, "We can do whatever you feel comfortable with."

Kyle nonchalantly pulls off his shirt, and throws it on the bar. I only get a few bare seconds to enjoy the shape his shoulders, his pecs, and the splash of hair on his chest and still very well defined abs, before he was looming over me. He grabs my shirt and with a fluid motion just pulled it up over my head. I watch him study my chest for a moment. Is he going to wake up? Am I? Unf!

His arms were around me and pull me into a kiss. There's a bit of wild desperation there, as I feel him press his mouth into mine, his hot breath on my face. He digs his hands into my back, and I feel his erection through his jeans. I can't help but moan softly. This is actually fucking happening.

His kisses press across the side of my chin, and down my neck. I feel his mouth, and a hint of teeth. I gasp.

"Is that too much?" he murmurs into my shoulder.

"No, keep going."

He gives a soft growl as he kisses down my chest, I feel him on my nipple. At first he sucking, but then he gives it a soft bite. My knees go a little weak, but his arms keep me standing. He continues to work on my chest, and I managed to get my hands on the button of his jeans.

There we go! I give them a push, and I feel his cock pushing out through his boxers. He stops for a moment, and yanks them down past his thigh, and I can feel the heat of him on my skin.

My hands grasp his cock, and give it a few quick strokes. I feel his hips push toward me. My hands start to get sticky with precum. I continue, and I feel him shudder slightly, and pull up for air, after working on my chest.

It's the perfect opportunity, I grin up at him and sink down in front of his cock. Kyle is pretty long, and beer-can thick. I give a swirling lick of his head, and I hear his inhale. Slowly, I sink my mouth down over his cock, one hand steadying myself on his hip, the other grasping his balls. His breath grows uneven, as I make my way down as far as I can go, my nose buried in his pubes. He pushes himself the last inch, and I have to relax to keep from gagging. Jesus, it's been a while for me too. I pull away, taking a quick breath, before returning. My movement is slow going for the moment, but I feel Kyle's hands on either side of my head holding me still.

I'm not usually one for face-fucking, but he isn't porn-rough. Instead he takes slow steady strokes into my throat, giving me enough time to prepare. I look up and see his eyes squeezed shut, his head back. That magnificent chest of his rises with heavy breaths. I run my fingers over his balls, they haven't pulled up, so I've got a little time before he comes. But, as I feel him shudder, I know it isn't much.

I place a hand on his abs, and he stops. I give him a final swirl of my tongue before pulling up for air. I only get a scarce second or two for breath, and he is kissing me again. He undoes my jeans, and pushes them to my ankles. I feel his fingers pulling on my briefs, and I chuckle into his lips, "Hey now, those are expensive."

He laughs, and more gingerly pulls them down. My cock pulls free and he starts pumping it with his hand almost immediately. I sigh and let myself lean into his arms. My fingers begin to trace the muscles of his chest, and I give his nipple a pull. It breaks his rhythm with a shiver, and that's enough invitation for me, I dive onto his chest, kissing, sucking, and nibbling my way between his pecs.

I feel his cock twitch in my hand, as I gently bite his nipple. I increase pressure, and am rewarded with a moan. Huh. I never imagined Kyle Howard to have a little kink to him. I keep working on his nipples, and give his balls a gentle tug. He gasps and I feel precum from his cock spill all over my forearm.

I keep working, until I hear him whisper into my ear, "I'm getting close."

I immediately step away, and admire the constellation of little red marks on chest. He stands there gasping for a moment, "Holy fuck," he whispers.

"Did you still want to fuck, or do you want to finish this way."

He smiles, and puts a hand on my ass and gives me a tight squeeze. I can't help but smirk, and spit into my hand before giving his cock a final stroke.

He turns me around, and I feel hot saliva on my hole. I try to part my feet wider apart, but my jeans are tight around my ankles. Despite his seeming roughness, I feel him gently place his cock on my ass, and splay a hand across my chest.

I bend forward a little more, and guide him into me. Thank god I've been drinking. It's rough going at first, he is one of the thickest guys I've ever been with. But I feel myself give way, and he takes a slow series of thrusts.

The feeling makes my knees buckle, but I manage to keep standing. With every thrust I feel him go deeper, and my toes curl inside my shoes. We continue for a while, and I feel his hands against my hips, running over my chest. My cock remains untouched, and I grab one of his hands and place it there. He gets the hint and starts moving his hand slowly, which is more than enough to make me moan as my body moves back and forth.

Kyle growls softly, and I feel the hand on my chest against my chin, he pulls me against him and begins to work up speed. I make a very undignified sound, as he begins to kiss my neck. The feeling of his beard on my shoulder, the sounds of him slamming away at me, it's intoxicating. I try to focus, to stroke his arm, do something, but I can't help myself. The most I can do is remain standing as shuddering waves roll over me.

He slows, but now he is pulling almost entirely out, before pushing all the way in. His arm is basically the only thing keeping me up, as I do my best to meet his thrusts.

Every time he lands home there are stars. This is the hardest I've been fucked in years. My moans, my curses, all of it has just completely dissolved into one long sound. Christ, I sound ridiculous, but I can't help it.

Kyle starts to groan, and I can feel his cock tick inside me. He's getting close. As he comes, I can feel the pressure of it, the heat of it, and I can't help myself. I come into his hand, and all over the floor. He doesn't stop thrusting even after he ejaculates, and my orgasm continues to roll on. I shudder and shoot one last time, and practically collapse.

He pulls away from me gasping, and the pair of us penguin-walk, to lean against the bar, just sitting there trying to catch our breath. His eyes are wide, "Holy fuck, that was the best sex I've ever had."

"Yeah," I nod, "that was... that was not what I expected." I burst into laughter.

His eyebrow arches, "What? Was that not OK?"

"Are you fucking kidding me? That was amazing. Not gonna lie, the thought of having sex with you has crossed my mind more than once. This was not what teenage-me imagined."

Now he begins to laugh, "Really? Because when I was in high school, this is basically what I thought about doing."

At that, I actually topple over onto the ground. He leans over me to see if I'm OK, and I pull him down on top of me. He's sticky, I'm sticky, the floor is disgusting, but I don't care. I give him a full-mouthed kiss, before continuing to shake my head and laugh.

"What?"

"Ten years late is better than never. Now let's make up for lost time."