Richie must have been reading my mind, or perhaps he picked up on the unconscious signals between us and felt as I did, because he leaned back without saying a word, unzipped his jeans and pulled out his stiff cock. "Now it's your turn and don't think of backing out. I know you want it as much as I do." he said. I couldn't utter a sound so, without comment or protest, I looked into his eyes as I went down on my knees and took his erect penis into my mouth. It tasted wonderful and the smooth skin of its head was a delight to my tongue. I moved my head up and down listening to Richie's soft moans and words of encouragement. Fairly quickly I felt his muscles stiffen and his hot cum shot into my mouth, hitting the back of my throat.
I let his cum linger in my mouth for a while before swallowing it so that I could relish the taste of him. As I savored the experience, I soon realized that while Richie lost the bet he got the blowjob anyway; this was quite unfair in my opinion. Still on my knees, I looked up at him and told him that he truly owed me a blowjob and that I intended to collect it. His only comment was to wonder out loud what people would say when he told them that he got me to suck his dick on a bet and that he shot his load in my mouth. His bravado was legendary and most took it with a grain of salt but I warned him that if I hear any of this come back to me I would bite the tip of his cock off the next time I took it into my mouth. He laughed and said that he would never take that chance since having a steady blowjob was always better than spreading some silly story.
As I headed home, I wondered what really set things into motion between us and how it managed to culminate with sex. Richie and I were friends and we definitely liked each other but it did not seem like the type of romantic entanglement that would have existed with a girl. I did not feel embarrassed or ashamed about what transpired but, on the other hand, I did not seem to feel much of anything and this puzzled me. I could still taste his cum in my mouth and smell it on my breath, both pleasurable sensations, but what comes next? Was it just the sex that I wanted more than a romantic sexual relationship? We didn't kiss that day and if I am truly honest with myself I would admit that that didn't bother me. I wanted to suck Richie's dick and feel him cum in my mouth and Richie wanted a blowjob; we both succeeded in getting what we wanted most but something was missing.
Richie and I hung out as we used to and even managed an occasional blowjob every once in a while, but we never went beyond that. After we graduated and started working, we drifted apart as it seemed too difficult to move forward and build upon what we once had. When I look back on those days, I imagine things taking a different turn but that might simply be a fantasy based upon today's more tolerant approach to gay relationships having seeped into my consciousness. Times were different then and it would be difficult to live an openly gay lifestyle or even one remotely non-traditional, or is this just an excuse for not pursuing a relationship with someone I cared about? Many gay people shied away from openly displaying it in public and most lived in a closeted world. Richie and I were good friends and that would be fine but it would be impossible to be too affectionate in public. Perhaps it was this fear that stifled my view of intimacy and ended what could have been a nice relationship. We never had those moments of making out in the car or a dorm room, or holding hands as we walked on the street; it is a shame and something that I often regret.
When I remember the events of the day that we had our wager playing pool, I like to add a bit more romance into the equation. We would still have sex but this time I introduce kissing, passion and mutual orgasms. I see a tender goodbye that afternoon and a developing romantic story that goes on for a while. We might fall in love and become steady companions as was the norm with girlfriends in that period. Richie could give me a small ring or even an ankle bracelet that I would wear under my socks so as not to draw attention to our secret. It would be a beautiful memory to have now, a long-ago love story that would keep me warm on cold nights instead of remembering the truth and wondering about what could have been. A simple bet and two different stories of the circumstances surrounding it. Hopefully I will live long enough for my memory to decide which one to keep and which one to discard.