THE FRIENDLY SEX EDUCATION

Jackson and I are friends. Cool friends and nothing more.

He is 26 and I’ll be 21 in May. He has been called ruggedly handsome by so many, and I think he’s gorgeous, although I will never tell him this to his face. He looks like a cross between a rock-star and Will Smith. I would call Jackson a stud; he goes to the gym a lot. Standing next to him, I come off as frail, slender, like he could pick me up and snap me easily in two. I am what most in the gay community would call a twink, even though I am starting to spot a healthy beard.

During a game of cards one sunny day, the pink curtains that hung over the windows of my room drew close due to a draft coming in from the window, coming between the light streaming in and the room, so that a pink hue was cast over the room, drenching us in its kaleidoscopic shower.

And something happened between Jackson and me – the Jackson who is supposed to be just a cool friend and nothing more.

It started when we decided to take a break from our game and lounged back on the bed to gist, regaling each other with stories of our latest sexcapades. It is a habit we have formed, making sure not to divulge personal information of those involved except when absolutely necessary. Jackson knows I am gay and even though he is straight with a notched belt of female sexual conquests, he has always been an avid participant of my sexual narrations, eschewing the revulsion most straight men exhibit whenever they have to hear about gay sex stories.

“I’m not really good at giving blowjobs,” I told him.

My head was resting on the one pillow we were sharing even though I had another somewhere else on the bed, and my left leg was propped up against his hairy right one.

I had said what I said in a whisper, so self conscious was I about telling him something so personal that made me feel inadequate.

He didn’t make any sound. I’d expected him to burst out laughing, like he always does when he wants to be annoying or just petty. He didn’t, and after what seemed like an eternity of silence, he turned over so that he was now lying on his belly and supported his face with his hands. He was looking at me with a sly grin.

I’d seen that grin on more than one occasion; it is the expression that gives away whatever devilry is going on in his head. But the look he had in his eyes was an odd one. I didn’t know what it meant that he was looking at me like that.

“I could help you,” he said.

“Help me?” I queried, my face creasing with confusion. Even though I was lacking comprehension of what he meant, I felt a sensation, odd and hot, suddenly collect beneath my abdomen. I didn’t know what was going on, and apparently my body was reacting to it before I could understand it.

“Yes. Help you. I could teach you.”

I opened my mouth to ask him how he could teach me to give a blowjob, when he leaned quickly forward and trapped my open mouth with his, crushing my lips in a kiss that was so sudden and intrusive, that I could taste the cake we’d both shared earlier in the day. His mouth tasted sweet because of the cake and my senses had gone numb with shock and desire. I was going to let out a word of protest but it escaped my lips as a moan, causing Jackson to respond with a groan of his own. The kiss was invigorating, sending tiny bits of electric shock sparking throughout my nerve endings.

It was like nothing I’d ever had.

Jackson pulled me up so we were both on our knees on the bed. His hands wound their way to the small of my back, rubbing ever so slowly downwards to the small V that led to my ass-crack sandwiched between the two cheeks that are my buttocks. His hands splayed over the cheeks and he cupped them gently, the touch drawing another moan from me. His tongue pushed deeper into my mouth as soon as my lips parted, searching and prodding and I tried fervently to match his need. His want. His longing.

I pressed my hips against him and felt his hardness jab back at me. It felt good and big. I had never seen Jackson’s nature hard before and through the haze of desire, curiosity took over me and I was reaching down for his belt buckle. He reached down to help me, unbuckling his shorts and shoving it down his thighs. I almost couldn’t believe how easily we had slid from one thing to another.

This is Jackson that is supposed to be my friend, my cool friend and nothing more.

His cock sprang out of his briefs, its head pink and helmet-like, a clear liquid about to drop from his piss slit. I swallowed hard as I stared at what I considered a spectacle. I ran a quick, passion-laden gaze up from his cock to the rest of him. Kneeling there on the bed, he looked like a Greek god come to life, especially with the pink hue of the sunlight accentuating his bronze complexion.

I moved towards him, already naked, my own cock, smaller and less magnificent, cradled in my left palm, and was about to take him in my mouth when he pulled away. He wagged a finger at me. I could not believe the instant disappointment that washed over me. Indignation pulled at my ears as I stared at my friend, praying that he wasn’t about to put this moment to a stop.

“No, no,” he was saying, a small roguish grin on his face. “This is supposed to be a lesson, remember? We just did a bit of the preliminary. First thing you should know before opening your lips to take in a man’s dick is that there’s never any hurry.”

With that, his smile broadened as he moved closer to me on the bed. He placed his hands on my shoulders. My heart fluttered as I raised my chin, tilted my head and parted my lips, holding my breath as I felt his hot breath on my face, anticipating his smoldering kiss one more time. The last thing I remember thinking of before his lips came upon mine, this time with care, precision and a delicateness I didn’t think he possessed was:

This is my friend, Jackson – my cool friend and nothing more.

Or had I been wrong all this time and just didn’t know it?

Written by Delle