Recently, on a blog on one of the hookup apps, an intriguing question was posed: Do gay men ever give blow jobs to their straight friends?
Hmmm. I had to think about that. Most of my straight friends were married, unattractive, and out-of-shape — that seems to come with the territory, or having sex with them hit me as creepy. Then, I thought of one of my friends that would have been suitable.
Tim is in his 50s, fit and lanky, ruggedly handsome with a strong jaw line, penetrating blue eyes, dark blond hair, blondish scruff, masculine, sexy and divorced. He's a jock and jogs daily at the Arboretum, a large park in Boston. He looks to be of WASP ancestry with some Irish thrown in. When our group watches Red Sox games together at our apartments. I notice that he drinks a lot of beer, which makes men wonder if alcohol intake would dull his inhibitions.
One night, having had a few beers myself, I fixated on his lean body spread back on the sofa and his crotch bulging in his well-worn, tight Levi’s. Tim favors tight T-shirts that show off his musculature and sneakers on his big feet. He often stretches his legs and pivots his Size 13s back and forth as if performing some kind of exercise. Is there a direct relationship between large feet and big dicks? I would love if Tim would help me in my research on this matter.
Alas, I doubt he’d ever let me do him. He’s super straight, likes women too much and seems the kind of straight guy who never thinks about what a man’s mouth could do for his dick. It’s frustrating when a woman appears in a TV ad and his eyes are glued to her breasts. And yet, that makes him even more appealing as a challenge I’m keen to take.
Once when he and the gang, all totally aware of my sexual proclivities, were leaving a friend’s house after the Super Bowl, emboldened by wine, I blurted out, “Tim, I have a boffo new LG OLED 65-inch TV. If you’re in the South End, come by and we can watch a Red Sox game together. I have lots of beer in the fridge.”
That was met by silence from him and smirks from the rest, who knew full well what I was up to. But I had planted a seed and was hoping it would one day bloom.
Thoughts of Tim led me back to the original question on the dating app and a experience in the ’60s when I was in college.
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Back then I had a straight college friend named Jay. We worked at a Boston newspaper as factotums, which means we got coffee for the cranky old editors and did their bidding in other ways. We poked fun at these bow-tied creatures and shared lots of laughs. Jay was fun to be around and even accompanied me to gay clubs, totally comfortable with the scene.
He was masculine, lanky, broad shouldered, curly blond-brown hair, deep voice and good looking in an American boy way. He was from Kentucky. When he had no place to stay one summer, he crashed at my small one-bedroom apartment on Beacon Hill. We slept together in my full-sized brass bed. There was no sofa. The night he moved in, he just crawled into bed with me. Seemed natural for both of us.
One morning he was sitting in bed next to me reading the newspaper in just his boxer shorts. I had just woken up and found myself staring at his chest.
"Gee, Jay has a really nice body,” I thought to myself. “Why hadn't I noticed before?" As if in a trance, I moved my hand tentatively and touched his smooth chest. "Jay, you're turning me on," I announced. That bold act was not like me, but I was moved by his attractiveness. Jay didn’t flinch, didn’t say a word, just leaned back against the headboard as if to encourage my ministrations. So I upped the ante and rubbed one of his nipples. He stirred, gasped, looked straight ahead, but said nothing. It was obvious from the bulge in his boxers that he was excited.
My hand slithered downward and my fingers ran along his belly button and blondish treasure trail. I love treasure trails. How could I not have noticed his before. Jay let out a sigh as I saw his mushroom cap flare out through the cotton fabric, announcing his circumcision status.
Upping the ante again, I slipped my hand downward under the elastic band. He grunted and slid himself from a sitting position to flat on the bed. He stretched his hands behind the back of his head in the classic “do me” pose.
He lifted his body up, inviting me to remove his boxers. I slid them down to his ankles and off. I was struck by his hard penis, glued to his tummy, about 6 inches long, fatter than average, sitting in a thicket of light brown pubic hair. I had never seen Jay naked.
My index finger ran up and down his shaft, finally tracing a circle around the beveled head. I wet my finger with saliva and fingered his piss slit. He let out a moan and closed his eyes. Perhaps he was fantasizing about a girlfriend. I didn’t care. At this moment he belonged to me.
After a few minutes I leaned over and sandpapered the head of his dick with my tongue. His loud response signaled me to continue. I licked it for a minute or two before I took all of him into my mouth. That was met by even louder sounds of satisfaction. As my face drilled into his pubic hair, I savored his Southern boy moistness.
Jay began moaning so loudly that I feared he would cum before I wanted him to, before I had a chance to edge him and taste his precum. He had likely never had a good blowjob, probably not even a bad one, women of the ‘60s being even less interested than today in sucking dick.
It was time to turn it up a notch and shift from gentle sucking to more intense action. Given his lack of experience, deepthroating him was going to make him crazy. As his mushroom cap hit my tonsils, he gasped.
I used more pressure as he bucked his hips, grabbing the back of my head and fucking my mouth. Now I was the one who was surprised by his boldness.
As his breathing became heavier, I braced for the payoff. As my mouth filled with cum and dribbled out of my mouth, I was brimming with pleasure. One spasm was followed by another and another. His was the biggest load I had ever taken. I swallowed half of it before I choked. The rest soon followed down my throat. What is it about sucking off a straight dude and eating his cum that makes a gay guy crazy?
With cum coating my mouth and sitting in my belly, I thought with only a tinge of shame: “Would Jay let me do him again tomorrow?” I still had the taste of his load in my mouth and I was already thinking about the next time. I couldn’t help it.
Sadly, we never repeated the encounter, even though we slept together for a few more weeks before the nomad in him took him to the West Coast. When he returned to Boston a few months later, he moved back in with me, but we never spoke of this episode.
A year later, he asked me to be best man at his wedding.
