Like a Virgin


It’s just a little after two when I knock on the door of the suite. I’m clutching a bag, and if I really were the preppy virgin I’m playing my heart could hardly be pounding any harder. It’s a minute or two before Brian opens the door, and when he does my heart somehow finds a way to increase its pace. I guess it needs to pump more furiously because of all the blood that’s pouring into my cock.

He’s wearing a pair of black jeans that are so tight they leave very little to the imagination and a crimson shirt, cut loose and falling in such soft drapes that it must be silk. It’s half unbuttoned, and I can see the column of his neck and the smooth planes of his chest. My eye is caught for a moment by the shadowed hollow of his throat and then I look up and am lost in a flood of memories.

His lips shine with the dark glow I remember from those first moments under the light. He stood so close to me that I could feel his body heat, and I could hardly tear my eyes away from the promise of his mouth. It’s the same now.

His tongue flicks out across his lips and I feel my cock twitch. Then finally I meet his eyes.

They’re wide with surprise, but then they narrow and go dark with lust. This time his tongue’s journey across his upper lip is slow, deliberately seductive. He stands back to let me enter the suite, but only a little, so that I have no choice but to brush against him. I can feel the heat radiating off him. My hands are shaking as I turn to face him.

His tongue rolls into his cheek, and he takes the bag from my hands and puts it down.

Then he spreads his arms and poses. “You like what you see?”

His eyes travel slowly down my body. “Yes, I can see you do.”

It’s hardly a secret. My cock is trying to find a way to burst through the material of my pants. They were tight enough to start with, now they’re really uncomfortable.

He reaches out and runs one finger down under the lapel of my jacket.

“I hadn’t realised you were quite so young,” he says, his eyes full of mischief. “I knew you were a virgin, but I wasn’t expecting a schoolboy.”

His voice is deep and husky and I know that he’s really turned on by my choice of clothing. He reaches out and begins to gently loosen my tie, saying, “Are you sure you’re old enough, little boy? I wouldn’t want to break any laws.”

I don’t answer, just gaze at him with lust and longing. I run my tongue over my lips and watch his eyes follow the movement. Without warning he grabs my tie and pulls me closer. I clutch his hips to steady myself and his eyes lock with mine. Still holding the tie, he slides the other hand behind my head, tangling his fingers in my hair, and gripping me firmly. His eyes wide open he lowers his mouth to mine. I try to keep my eyes open, but the feeling of his mouth moving against mine is so amazing, is bringing back so many memories, that between past and present I’m overwhelmed with emotion and sensation, and feel my eyelids droop slowly till all light is shut out and then there is only feeling and taste and scent and sound.


Little shit!

I can’t believe it when I open the door and he’s standing there in his fucking school uniform. Shit! My cock gets rock hard just looking at him. I have to resist the urge to drag him into the room before someone comes along or to snatch him away from me or throw my ass in jail.

God he is so hot. And that damned uniform is tighter now than it was two years ago. He’s filled out in all the right places and I have to reach out to touch him. I slide my finger down the lapel of his jacket and his eyes get that glazed, caught in the spotlight look they had that first night. Shit! what he does to me. I hear my voice say something, I’m sure it’s sexy and witty but I have no idea it is. He doesn’t answer, just looks at me with those eyes dark and hazy with lust and memories and suddenly I have to at least taste him. I grab his tie and pull him towards me. Of course, the moment that his hands touch my hips, I’m lost.

I stare down at him as I find his mouth. It opens for me so sweetly and I possess it, claim it, as I watch his eyelashes slowly flutter down to lie across his cheeks. Then my eyes close and all there is is the feel of Justin and the scent of him and the taste of his mouth and the sound of the soft moans that are coming from somewhere deep inside him.

I want to get back to the game, the fantasy, but this … I have to hold onto this awhile. This sense of belonging, of being so familiar with his body, able to read its needs as easily as my own. I never thought I’d want this, never understood how good it could be to have it. Now, I never want this to end. I don’t want to have to go back to the beginning with him. We’ve struggled so hard to get this far. I don’t want us ever to be strangers to each other again, and I’m making the most of everything I know to deepen the kiss, to somehow draw us closer.

That’s why I notice the instant that something changes. His breathing catches, and his fingers clutch at my shirt and I know … I *know* he’s somewhere that I don’t want him to be, somewhere he doesn’t want to be. Without breaking the kiss, I pull him right into my arms and hold him close, using my hands to caress and sooth him. When I feel him still fighting off whatever emotion has darkened this moment for him, I move my mouth from his to press his face into my neck while I lick and nibble at his ear, blowing into it softly in the way he likes.

His breathing steadies and he lifts his head. I press my forehead to his and find myself rubbing noses with him. Fuck! Like I said - what he does to me!

But it works because he gives me *that* smile and I find myself smiling back.

“Hey!” I say.

He smiles some more and kisses my chin. “Hey!” he answers.


I don’t know what made me suddenly feel like I was going to freak out completely, or else burst into tears like some totally tragic little faggot. Just …

Suddenly it was all way too much like the first time. The first time I’d been kissed by a man, ever. And it was Brian doing the kissing. Fuck! He’d said to me later when he was about to shove his cock up my ass that he wanted me to remember it, that no matter who I was with, he’d always be there. He was about three hours too late. He’d already branded me as his the first time he kissed me.

I can’t explain what it is about Brian’s kisses. It’s partly the technique, I guess. I mean, anything he does with his mouth or tongue is incredible; kissing among the rest. And it’s partly his Brian-taste: I would know that taste anywhere; cigarettes and JB and coffee and the deep mint toothpaste he uses; and Brian. And part of it is just his mouth. He has the most amazing mouth - made for kissing.

But there’s something else. It’s as if all the things that he could never, would never say, are somehow there in his kisses. All the ‘you’re wonderfuls’, all the ‘you’re so hot’s, all the ‘I want you’s. They’re all there in his kisses.

I guess that’s why I made up that lame rule. I was trying to keep all those things to myself. So dumb.

But for my first kiss from another man to be one of those kisses from Brian … that truly changed my world. That’s the moment that all the things I sort of knew about myself came into focus, and I really understood myself as a gay man. Young, maybe; naïve, and very, very horny. But complete, somehow. That first kiss, those first kisses, changed everything for me.

But now is not then, and I don’t want to go back to then. I don’t want to go through all that again. I don’t think I’m strong enough now to face all that again. I don’t know where I found the courage then to fight for him the way I did, to fight him the way I did. I don’t know how I got through all that pain, all that anguish. I know that there was joy, too. And elation. And pleasure, God the pleasure! But it all came at such a high cost and I just can’t …

I guess somehow he knows something is wrong, because he pulls me into his arms, and now it’s not the hustler kissing some schoolboy; it’s Brian, and he’s kissing me. Me, Justin. I know he is because when he stops, he starts playing with my ear, biting and licking it and blowing into it the way he knows I love and I feel myself relax into his arms. We’re not back at the beginning. We’re here. And we’re playing and we’re going to have a good time.

I pull back a little so that I can look up at him and he touches his forehead to mine. Then he rubs his nose against mine. My heart turns over when he does that. It’s such a goofy thing to do. It’s cute, and Brian *so* doesn’t do cute. But he does this sometimes. With me. He does it now, and suddenly the world is just so fucking wonderful and I realise that I don’t regret one single twinge of the pain that long ago Justin went through. Because all of them, added up, somehow got me, got us, here.

And here is right where I want to be.

I smile at him.

“Hey!” he says goofily.

“Hey!” I answer, kissing him on the chin.

He looks into my eyes for a moment, then he does that tongue in cheek thing and I know we’re *on* again; we’re back in the game.

“So, little boy,” he says. “Are you ready to play?”

And just like that everything else seems to fade away in the need to get his hands, or his mouth or something around my dick.

I nod, suddenly breathless again, and he wraps my tie around his hand and, staring into my eyes, he backs into the bedroom, pulling me with him.

I’m so horny now, I want to jump on him the moment we’re anywhere near the bed, but he stops me. He grabs my arms and holds me till he’s sure I’ll stand still. Then, licking his lips while he does it, he pulls my blazer down off my shoulders, to half way down my arms. He doesn’t take it right off, just leaves it there, so that it’s pinning my arms behind me. Then he slowly, slowly unbuttons my shirt. He spreads it apart, pulling it back to almost join the jacket. Then he just stands there, his eyes caressing my throat and my chest. The feel of those caresses on my nipples is enough to make them harden, without him ever touching them, then his eyes moved down across my stomach to where my cock is tenting out the front of my pants so far it’s a wonder it hasn’t burrowed through.

He looks back up into my eyes then, and holds them while his hands undo my belt and finally, finally! my pants. Still giving me that so sexy grin, he tangles his hand in my hair again and kisses me, eyes wide open to watch my reaction as his hand slowly, deftly wraps itself around my cock and strokes it gently. I feel the stickiness of precum spilling from my slit, and he takes it and smoothes it over my cock, jerking me in earnest now. One, two, three strokes and I feel my balls tighten. No! no! not like this, not so soon.

“Sssh!” he murmurs into my mouth. “Let’s just get you off, then we can get comfortable.”

His hand flexes again, and then again.

“C’mon now,” he says. “Cum for me. I want to feel you spilling all over my fingers. I want them all wet and sticky so that I can suck you off them.”

And that does it, and the next time his hand moves on my dick I cum.

I hear his soft laugh and feel it deep in his chest as he pulls me against him and lets me lean into him while I get my breath back.

Shit! that was hot!.

And all he did was jerk me off. Fucked if I know what the rest of the night is going to be like.


I so have to laugh at the expression on his face. He truly does look like that mortified schoolboy who came all over my new duvet. I pull back a bit and let him watch me lick his cum from my fingers. Then I drop to my knees in front of him and pull down his pants and lick up any stray strands from his belly and pubes. He sighs, and already his cock is starting to harden.

I get up and guide him towards the bed. His arms are still caught in his blazer and he struggles a bit to free them, but I push him down on his back on the bed. I get his shoes and socks off and pull his pants down to his feet, but leave them tangled there. Then I force him further back onto the bed and lift his feet up onto the edge. I push them closer to his body, so that his knees are well bent, then I spread his legs.

His arms are still caught, and his feet are trapped in his pants and he’s spread out in front of me completely at my mercy.

He realises it too, and his eyes widen. I watch him closely to make sure he’s okay with it. His tongue runs over his lips, and his cock is close to fully hard now and looking into his eyes, they’re wide and dark and he’s got this grin on his face like he knows he’s in for the ride of his life and he can hardly wait.

But waiting is just what he’s going to have to do.

I strip slowly, peeling the red shirt down off one shoulder, then another, finally I pull it off and drag it across his belly and cock before I toss it on the floor.

I unbutton the jeans. Buttons are not only safer than fucking zips, they’re a hell of a lot sexier. His eyes follow my fingers and his tongue flicks wetly across his lips. I pull the pants down slowly, and then turn, so that he can watch as I slide them down over my ass. He groans and I take advantage of the fact that my face is away from him to grin in satisfaction.

‘You might be getting older, Kinney, but you definitely still have it,’ I think to myself. Then I realise that maybe it’s just with him. Maybe for him, I’ll always be able to make him feel like this. I push that thought aside as something I don’t really want to deal with now, but somehow I feel it burrow down inside me and fuck! but it feels good.

Fucker! If he starts making me feel like a fucking lovesick lesbian right now I will fucking kill him!

I step out of the pants and turn back to the bed. He’s laying right where I put him, wanton and beautiful.

I spread his knees even wider and stroke the inside of his thighs and he starts panting hard. My fingers brush his balls and he sinks his head back with a soft moan. I play with his balls, rolling them between my fingers and he hisses, his head tossing back and forth. He writhes a little, and I realise that with his arms trapped halfway under him like that he’s uncomfortable. That is not the plan, so I sit him up and pull off the blazer and the shirt. Then I have to kiss him. By the time I pull away, his lips are swollen and his face is flushed and sweaty. I bet mine matches, too.

I pull away and urge him further up the bed. I push the pillows. I take his hands and place them on the thick rails that form the bed head. He grasps them obediently. Then I take the largest of the pillows and put it under his hips. I tug off his pants and once more pull his knees up and spread them. Before I get settled, I reach down beside the bed and pull up the bag I’d placed there. I put it on the bed behind me, so that I can reach it, but he can’t see what’s in it.

Then I kneel between his feet and survey my client, my prize, my … lover.

His cock is fully erect again now, and precum is dripping like sticky silk from the tip to his belly. He’s completely naked, except for that damned school tie, and somehow that makes the sight of him even hotter.

I begin stroking the insides of his thighs once more.

“Now,” I say, slipping once more into character. “You have to tell me what you want. I’m here to pleasure you, but you have to tell me what you want.”

His mouth opens and his tongue presses against his lower lip.

“Everything!” he pants. “I want everything.”

I smile at him slyly. He’s not getting away with that, and he knows it.”

I cup his balls in the palm of one hand and say, “I need to know exactly what you want. What you like.”

I juggle his balls a little while the fingers of my other hand trace circles on his the sensitive skin of his inner thigh in a way that I know drives him crazy.

“I want you to fuck me,” he says.

Little shit!  He’ll learn.

“You have to say it. Tell me exactly what you want me to do.”

He does get it then and he groans and lets his head fall back for a moment. Then he props himself up a little on his elbows and says, “I need you to touch me.”

“Where?” I ask silkily. “Say it.”

His eyes meet mine and for just a moment I’m ready to believe that he is that little virgin once more. They plead with me, and just like that night, I can’t resist them.

“Do you want me to touch you here?” I ask, and, leaving his balls, let my fingers trail down the soft sensitive skin till they drift across his anus.

He sucks his breath in sharply. “Yes,” he breathes. “Oh, yes.”

I smile at him again, and slide my hands under his knees, pushing, till his thighs rest on his chest. Then I stroke my fingers oh so lightly over his buttocks.

“Here?” I ask.

“Oh, shit!” is the only response I get. I cup his buttocks in my hands and the swell of them against my palms for some reason makes me suddenly want to end the game and just fuck him senseless. Time for more games later.

I reach behind me and find the lube. Remembering that night, I don’t bother to warm it, just coat my fingers, and then touch his asshole.

“You want my finger up here?” I ask.

Well, I have to prepare him anyway, might as well have little fun doing it.

“Yes,” he hisses.

“Are you sure?”


This time the word is snapped out and I stifle a laugh. Instead, I push one finger into him and he blinks up at me.

“It’s cold,” he says softly.

I find myself really smiling now, the way I only ever smile at him.

“It’ll warm up,” I say. I move my finger around, stretching him carefully; just like I did that first night, and he gives a gratified moan.

It’s a weird thing. When I woke up the next morning I didn’t even remember that Lindz had had the baby, but I could remember every single word that passed between us, every touch, every sigh, every kiss, every moan. Still can.

I add another finger, then another. His hips are bucking a little now. Again, just like that first night. Fingers aren’t enough now, just like they weren’t then. Then he wanted it, without really knowing what he wanted.

Despite the fear, despite all the taboos, he knew there was something and so he went looking for it; went looking for what he wanted, what he needed. And what he found was me. Fuck!

But then I remember the feel of him under me, once he’d gotten past that initial pain; the way he moved with me, bucked up against me wanting more, wanting harder, and the look of astonished bliss when he came, jetting against my stomach, spurting all over his chest, and I suddenly realise that despite what anyone else might think, he could have done a lot worse.

A lot worse. I have to turn my mind away from what might have happened to him that night, from what he might have wound up with, because otherwise … His hands come up and clasp my face and for just one moment I stare down into his eyes.

He found me. I found him.

One hand leaves my face to fumble with his jacket, and then he has a condom package between his teeth, and he’s ripping it open.

“Good boy!” I breathe down at him, scissoring my fingers apart and then rewarding him with a brush across his prostate. “Put it on me.”

He grins at me and does it - a lot more efficiently than he did that first night.

Then I’m moving his legs into just the right position on my shoulders and staring down into his eyes as I slowly push inside. I know the moment he feels the pinch, and I pause and wait. When he’s ready there’s the slightest tilt of his hips and I move into him again. I feel his calf muscles flex near my ears and then I’m over him and into him and his hands are clasping my shoulders, fingers digging into me so hard I’ll have bruises tomorrow.

And the dance begins.


It is intense. It is so fucking intense that afterwards we can barely move. Brian wriggles off me a little so that I can get my legs down at least and then we just collapse in a tangled heap. He’s half on top of me, his head on my chest, and my leg is hooked up over his thigh and we’re just holding each other. He huffs into my neck and says, “Fuck! that was hot.”

“Mmph,” I grunt in agreement. He pulls himself up and I mumble a protest, but he’s just pulling the covers up off the floor. He must have stripped the bed before I arrived and I was so focused on him I didn’t even notice. He drapes them over me and then slithers under them to join me. I sigh happily and open my arms and he comes into them, kissing my shoulder and my neck and then my lips. Then he lays back and gives a very contented-sounding sigh. I can’t help smiling.

His arm stretches out across the pillow above my head, and I choose to interpret that as an invitation. I move closer and rest my head against his shoulder and his arm somehow slips down around me, and if either of us were asked, we’d deny any knowledge of how it got there. At least, he would, which makes it smart for me to do the same.

But we know. We both know.

I feel his cheek rub my head, and I want to ask where he went. What he was thinking for just that moment when his eyes suddenly went blank and his face turned into a mask of … what? Fear? But I don’t. He came back when I reached for him, and whatever it was that he thought of, there’s probably no point in digging it up now.

“You were a fucking idiot, you know,” he says out of nowhere.

“What?” Okay, he’s taken a leap into the Kinney stratosphere, and I’m having some trouble keeping up.

“You have no idea what might have …”  he bites off the rest, but I can feel the tension in him again.

“Brian, I’m not stupid, I …”

“Justin … “ for a moment I think he’s going to say more, then he stops, takes a breath, and I almost *feel* the effort he puts into shrugging it off. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter.”

Something tells me that it does, but there’s nothing I can do if he doesn’t want to talk about it. I guess he’s thinking about that first night, that I could have picked someone to go with who would not have looked after me the way that Brian did. I turn my head and kiss his shoulder. He’s silent for a moment, then abruptly he gets up and walks into the bathroom, shutting the door.

I lie there for a few minutes, but when he doesn’t come back, I quietly push the door open. He’s leaning with his hands on the sink, staring into the mirror. Eventually, his eyes meet mine in the reflection. He looks away, then back, then his eyes drop.

“The first guy I ever fucked was a virgin,” he says. “So was I. I mean… there’d been hand jobs, and blow jobs, but … not that. I had no fucking idea what I was doing. I mean, I knew the theory. Knew enough to use lube and a condom, but … that was it.”

He straightens a little, and rubs his hands over his face. “I really hurt him. He bled. Not badly, but … there was blood. And he wouldn’t even let me take him to a doctor. Was too fucking afraid someone would find out.”

There’s nothing I can say to this, so I don’t. I just stand there, and wait. His head comes up and he meets my eyes in the mirror again. “Justin …”

“You didn’t hurt me,” I tell him.


I force a little smile and take his arm and turn him to face me.

“Okay” I admit, “You have hurt me. There have been times when you’ve shredded me. Just like there’ve been times when I’ve shredded you. But not in sex, Brian. Never.”

“You said ‘it hurts’,” he reminds me.

I have to stifle a smile at how much of that night he remembers, the shit. This is more important.

“And it did, a little, the way it always does, just like you said.”

He looks sceptical, so I grin and rub my hands up his arms.

“Alright, maybe more than a little, that first time. But you were so gentle, so careful with me. You took it so slowly. I remember telling Daph later how lucky I was.”

He cups my face in his hands and looks into my eyes for a long, long while.

Then he smiles.

“I guess you could have done worse, huh?”

I wind my arms up around his neck and he lets me pull him down to kiss him. So I do. Thoroughly. Then I smile at him.

“I could do a lot worse,” I say.

He hears the change of tense and sucks his lips in. I know that look. It means he’s thinking very carefully about exactly what to say and how to say it. Then he just smiles and bumps his head against mine.

“So could I,” is all he says.

But it’s enough. It’s way way more than enough.


 November 24th 2003


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