I answered the door in a t-shirt and boyshorts. “Hey,” I said to my curly-haired visitor.
He glanced up and shook his head at my (lack of) attire before managing a “hi” with a smirk. It was 3 a.m. and there were no pretensions about why he was here.
Shortly after I ensured that he came with an alibi and condoms, we were wrangling each other’s shirts off, eager to finish the long cocktease I started the last time he landed late in my lap.
And then his phone rang. With mouth pressed against the back of his neck, I whispered, “Answer it.”
He glanced at the name and tossed the phone to the side, atop the small pile of clothing we had made. “Sorry,” he muttered. Within seconds, we were back at it. Grabbing, squeezing, breathing hard against each other.
I got on top and straddled him, half-playfully, half-aggressively. As I ran my fingers over his upper body, his torso twisted to follow the touch of my hand. Each graze of my mouth against his lower stomach elicited a gasp. I dipped my head and pulled down his jeans. He was wearing black boxer briefs, his erection perfectly outlined against the fabric. I turned my head to wrap my lips around his girth, the cotton acting as the only barrier between him and my mouth.
“Oh god,” he whispered as I followed the length of his cock with my lips.. He was running his hands through my hair now, guiding me down. But I resisted the more he pushed. This is fun, I decided as I thumbed the tip of his erection. I was ready to finally deliver on my tease when his phone went off for the second time, emitting a low buzz as it vibrated over my carpet.
“Well?” I asked expectantly.
“I’m so sorry,” he said, before reaching over to flip it open and answer.
It was his friend (the one he ditched to rendezvous with me) inquiring about his whereabouts at a most inopportune time. He responded tersely and vaguely, as I stayed quiet and impatiently rubbed his shoulders.
“I’m sorry,” he said again when he hung up. I responded by tugging at his boxer briefs and revealing his cock inch by beautiful inch. I didn’t know where to start so I decided to aim low and work my way up. I flicked my tongue against the soft flesh at the base and moved my mouth up his shaft, leaving a trail of wetness behind. He was breathing hard now, grunting softly until I finally closed my lips over the head of his cock, inciting a low and hard groan.
He let out another one — more annoyed than turned on — when his phone rang again for the third unwelcome time. The caller was persistent. “What the fuck?” he answered after letting it ring a few more times.
While he talked to his pal, I had no intention of stopping the action on our end. I lowered my mouth over his cock and slid my lips over his shaft easily.
“Oh my god …” he groaned into the receiver. I was bobbing my head up and down while stroking his base with one hand. He lowered his eyes to look at me. “Fuck …” he said, still speaking into the phone. As I sped up my rhythm, he flipped the device shut — his friend still on the line — and watched me working his cock with my mouth. “Oh yeah, just like that,” he whispered. I sucked him off for a few more minutes before pushing him back on my bed and handing him a condom. I wanted to get fucked doggy style. In minutes, he had me on my knees.
- - -
As I straddled him in the afterglow of our encounter, I asked him what he wanted to be called on my blog if he ever warranted a mention. This was the first time I offered such a courtesy to anyone — close friends included, much less casual hookups. My hands tapping on his chest playfully, I waited expectantly for an answer. I already had a name in mind regardless but I was curious to hear what he’d say.
“Kyle,” he finally said after a few seconds of thought.
“What?” I almost fell off my bed from shock. “That’s exactly what I was thinking … did I already tell you?”
“No,” he replied casually. “I just thought it was a good, simple name.”
“That is so weird,” I said.
I shook my head. I could hardly believe it. But then again, Kyle left me bewildered with just about everything.