The Blinding Light (18 page)

My feet fairly flew across the room, and within a second I had Patrick’s face between my hands and was pulling him down for a hot, open-mouthed kiss. In the back of my mind, I was yelling to myself to take it slow, make sure that this was what the guy wanted, but Patrick clutched me tight and kissed me back with fervor. Any objections I had flew out the window.

I found myself pushed up against the wall and being kissed within inches of my life. Patrick may’ve been blind, but he sure knew how to kiss. His mouth was hot and wet, his tongue erotically making forays into my mouth. His body was thin, but surprisingly strong, as he pushed up against me and held me in place so that he could rub against me in a full body contact. I clutched his shoulders and tried to keep up. He frantically rotated his hips, showing me how aroused he was.

“Patrick… wait… the bedroom….” I could hardly get the words out, and as soon as they were, I forgot all about them.
The bedroom? Who needs a bedroom?

I felt Patrick’s hands at my belt and moaned my encouragement. He fumbled and lost his grip a couple of times because my hips wouldn’t stop moving, but finally he drew down my zipper and pushed aside my cotton underwear, shoving them down my thighs so he could reach my flesh. It was all I could do to concentrate on not coming at that moment. We had been building up to this for hours and I was ready to blow, but I controlled myself with effort and concentrated on the touch of his smooth fingers wrapping themselves around my cock.

“Oh, God! Yes, Patrick.”

He pumped me several times, up and down, up and down. I could only just remember how to move my lips and continue to kiss as the sensation of a hand that wasn’t mine registered with my brain. In the previous hours, I had idly calculated when I’d last been with someone. Regrettably for my bad-ass image, I could only remember one encounter in the past four months, and that had been an anonymous blowjob. But I had been masturbating once a day before I met Patrick and then triple that for the past weeks.

And now the guy I’d fantasized about had his hand on my cock.
Oh, bliss!

His dexterity with his own pants was far superior and I barely had time to register the loss of touch before Patrick’s cock was lined up against mine where he could pump us both, all the while kissing me stupid. I broke away from his mouth in order to groan loudly and urge him on faster.

“Like this?” he asked me, speeding up. I could only hold on and let him drive. Our bodies were fused together with just enough room for his moving hand. He abandoned my mouth and dived for that sensitive spot where your neck and shoulder meet.

“Oh, God. Fuck, Patrick. Yes!”

Not exactly a verbal genius at the best of times, I was reduced very quickly to single syllable sentences, mostly containing the word “yes.” It felt like the top of my head was lifting off, and in a huge rush I came, ejaculating all over Patrick’s hand and his shirt. He continued to pump, pulling the semen out of me until I had to halt his hand, as I was too sensitive for him to continue.

I glanced down and saw he was still gloriously erect and still rocking his hips into mine, searching for pressure and friction. My mouth began to water and I dropped to my knees. His cock was beautiful and I vowed to examine it thoroughly—but later. Much, much later.

I dropped my head and drew him into my mouth. The taste of my own fluid hit my tongue, but it wasn’t the first time I’d tasted myself and it wouldn’t be the last. I sucked him in deep, allowing my saliva to coat his cock before circling his hardness with my tongue.

“Oh, Jake….”

Yep. I still had the knack and I renewed my efforts, sucking him in, bobbing my head to simulate the sexual act that we had yet to get to. I fervently hoped that that sex act wouldn’t be too far away. He pushed himself into my mouth and I allowed him to thrust in, opening my lips wide until he was hitting the back of my throat. He groaned and worked his hips faster into my waiting mouth.

Finally, I needed to breathe and grabbed his dick, pulling off in order to stick my tongue in the tiny slit at the head. I was rewarded with an intense flavor, pure Patrick, bursting on my taste buds. I licked frantically, trying to get more.

I looked up under hooded lids to see his face tightened in pleasure, eyes screwed up as he concentrated on the sensations I was providing.

“Do you want to come in my mouth?” I asked. I was startled by the ice blue of his eyes as they flew open and peered sightlessly at me. It was as if a bright blue fire had been lit in them, and it was all because of me.

“Can I?”

It was a risk I had been taught to take seriously. Doctors lectured you on HIV and STDs, websites continuously changed their minds about the level of risk you had with different sex acts, and you always knew someone who knew someone who knew someone who had contracted something from an innocent lapse in judgment. But it had been a while since I’d been with someone who was more than just a familiar face across the room. I didn’t think Patrick would dick me around. He would tell me upfront if he was a risk. And I had no open sores in my mouth. And fuck it, I wanted his taste.

“Come for me now, baby. In my mouth where I can taste you.”

I encircled his erection once again and provided suction. Using my tongue to increase the pressure on the underside of his arousal, I began to bob. Patrick found my hair with his hand and ran through the short spikes, urging me on faster and deeper.

“Jake!”

His shout was my warning before jets of fluid filled my mouth. I swallowed desperately, trying to get it all, but Patrick must’ve been saving it for me for days because it felt like liters of ejaculate, and it ended up spilling from my mouth and dribbling down my chin. I fucking loved it!

“Oh, yes. Jake! Oh, yes.”

I licked and swallowed and sucked and licked and swallowed more. Finally, he jerked away from me. I knew that feeling—that abrupt ultra-sensitivity where a second more would mean pain instead of pleasure. I blinked, suddenly becoming aware of my surroundings and finding myself jammed against the wall and my knees killing me from kneeling on the hard, wood floor. My zipper was undone and my nuts were crushed against the metal teeth.
Ouch!

I swiped at my mouth as Patrick stepped back, his arms stretched wide to find a surface to orient himself. I grinned, knowing I had just sucked him dry and taken his internal coordination away.

I quickly rose to my feet and grabbed his hand, bringing it to the nearby doorframe, knowing he would be able to align himself from there. He blinked and I chuckled.

“What?” he asked me rather defensively.

I chuckled again. “Nothing, mate. It’s just that you look exactly like I feel. Both of us have our limp cocks hanging out of our pants and are trying desperately to get our bearings.”

He smiled sheepishly at me and tried to cover his shrinking cock with his hand. “No fair. You have an advantage over me. I can’t see!”

I leaned over to buss his cheek with my lips. “Poor baby. Here, does this make you feel better?” I pulled his spare hand around me and let him feel my naked butt cheek. He laughed and gave me a squeeze, letting his fingers drift over my arse crease without penetrating. It was just a little teasing touch, but my cock lifted its head, wondering if it was time to party again.

“Mmm,” he moaned. “I’m definitely feeling better now.”

“Yeah? How much better? Better enough for Round Two?” I was horny, and if Patrick was suddenly willing, then you’d better believe my recovery time was record breaking.

“Round Two? What? Already?”

He slid his hand around to find my arousal beginning to fill once again. I laughed at him. “You’re too bloody sexy. All I have to do is think about you getting naked for me to touch and I’m hard again. You’re such a freakin’ tease. You’ve had me turned on for weeks.”

“Me? What about you?” he cried.

“Me?” I echoed. “I’m not the one who waltzed around mostly naked while he was sick. I’ve done nothing to tempt you. How could I? I didn’t even know you were gay!”

“Nothing to tempt me? Excuse me?” Patrick’s tone was indignant but still with a hint of teasing. “How many times did I tell you to change your perfume?”

“Huh?”

“I wrote to you several times about it.”

“My perfume? I’m a guy. I don’t wear perfume. And besides, you wrote to Mrs. Huntley, not to me.”

“Perfume is an acceptable word for male or female. And whatever the scent you wear, it has been driving me completely crazy! Do you realize how… aroused I’ve been since you started working for me?”

“Really?” I was grinning like some demented mental patient.

“I’d come home and your scent would be in the air. It was like scented Viagra. I’d be hard within three steps of walking in my front door and I’d stay that way for hours. I’d end up having to open all the doors and windows to try to erase the smell. And then my sheets….”

“What?” I prompted him as he trailed off.

“When you fold the sheets and make the bed, your scent ever so slightly penetrates the fabric. Then I’d go to bed and as I was falling asleep I could make out, just very, very faintly, but definitely there, the scent of your body. It would drive me wild!”

“Oh.” It was my turn for confession. “You may’ve been able to smell me in your bed because I did… ahh… take a couple of breaks there.”

“You….”

Patrick looked at me astonished, and I suddenly realized where his mind was leapfrogging ahead to. My face flamed and I hastened to reassure him. “I didn’t mean that I
did
anything in the bed! No, man. Definitely not! I just meant that I like to lay down on your sheets and pillow and smell
you.
”

“Oh. So you didn’t masturbate in my bed?”

“No!”

“Pity.”

I was left flabbergasted with my dick still hanging out of my pants as Patrick pushed away from the door and made for his bedroom.
Pity? As in he actually
wants
me to masturbate in his bed while he is at work?

I thought about it and had to concede that it was entirely possible to do. Easy, even!

“Are you coming?” Patrick’s voice floated toward me from the bedroom.

Was I coming? God, I hoped so.

I hotfooted in his direction, determined not to miss out on a single moment of this unexpected twist in my life.

“S
O
WHAT
’
S
put such a smile on your face?”

Maria’s innocent question put an end to my daydreaming.
Damn!
And that daydream was beginning to get really good. I was remembering when Patrick pushed me face-first into the bed and climbed up behind me….

“Jake?”

Fuck! Focus!

“What?”

Maria waved her hands in front of my face. “Hello? Is anyone in there today? What has you so distracted that you haven’t stopped smiling for the last fifteen minutes? Do you have a secret boyfriend or something?”

“No. Do you?” I’d learned through experience that the best form of defense was to attack. As anticipated, Maria went red and began to stutter out excuses and denials, leaving me alone. I was glad because I really didn’t know if I could classify Patrick as a boyfriend.

We had fucked ourselves silly on Wednesday afternoon before I hauled myself out of bed to fix dinner. After stir-fry and cleanup, we’d watched some TV and crashed into bed for Round Three—or was it Round Four…? Hell, I didn’t keep count! Was I supposed to count orgasms? Mine or his?

All I can say is that I was sore as anything—in a good way—and slept curled up next to Patrick all night. The next morning he groaned in my ear and declared that his arse was way too sore for anything more, so we just did a mutual jerk-off in the shower.

Oh, yeah…. And I gave Patrick a blowjob an hour later as he was waiting for the taxi to arrive to take him to work.

And he was expecting me home in an hour.

His home, I mean—although I could get very attached to calling it my home, since it was the place I spent the most of my waking hours during the week.

And I was wearing his clothes because I hadn’t been back to my place in over twenty-four hours. I discreetly sniffed at the collar of the shirt I wore to make sure it still smelled like him. It did.

Maria huffed a bit—over my sly dig at her having a boyfriend and my inattention—before I gently grilled her about money and bills, and my least favorite subject, our mother. To my surprise, Maria admitted that Mum had managed to keep off the booze and cigarettes for another five days since I had last seen her.

“She actually made me dinner last night, Jake! I couldn’t believe it. It didn’t turn out half bad, either. The potatoes were undercooked and the peas mushy, but she managed to prepare a healthy meal without my help.”

“That’s great, Maria.”

She shook her head and stared at me in fright. “No way, bro. It’s like
The Twilight
Zone
or something. She’s still sick with that stomach flu crap and all. I can hear her heaving in the toilet sometimes.”