CHAPTER THREE

A Hot Shower That Ought To Have Been Cold

After the craziness of last night, it was the next morning. Before we could shower off the dryness on ourselves we were awoken by a knock at Tommy’s bedroom door.

“Who is it?” I asked, then felt bad and said “I feel bad, it isn’t my door to answer a knock on it.”

“Any door of mine is a door of yours, Donald” said Tommy, with kindness. That same door then opened to reveal Tommy’s entire family.

“Yes, I agree, Tommy”, said Tommy’s mum to Tommy but also for my benefit. The rest of his family nodded. Tommy’s mum then explained, while politely ignoring the semen stains on the sheets, floor and my back, that they were all going to some shops and then to the pictures.

“You could come with us.” pointed out his father.

“Yes”, agreed one of his brothers.

“You could and should”, said the other (brother).

His sister didn’t say anything so instead nodded at us. Tommy explained that they were going to have a shower.

“Make it a cold one” said the entire family in unison. They laughed and then left. The moment we heard the front door slam Tommy and I kissed each other for ages, occasionally pausing to complement each other’s appearance or touch each other’s erections.

“I’m so gay for you, Donald”, said Tommy.

“Not as gay as I am for you, Tommy”, said Donald.

We continued to kiss and pet each other for at least three sweet minutes before Tommy pointed out that he was too gay for me to wait until after a shower to

“have sex with you, Donald”, he said.

He had a point; how gay I was for him was making me impatient too. I’d prepare to wager that nobody has ever been as gay or straight for somebody as Tommy and I were for each other then.

“I’m top”, Tommy said while scrabbling through a drawer to find something with one hand, while giving me a wank job with the other.

“I know you’re top; you’re perfect, Tommy”, I said to Tommy.

“Thanks. You’re bottom then”.

This insult hurt my feelings and I began to cry.

“Oh, please don’t cry Donald. And while you’re not crying anymore could you tell me why you started crying in the first place?”, soothed Tommy.

This made me cry harder and be erect softer. His probing into my tears reminded me of my father’s homophobic rage at my tears yesterday, and try as I might I couldn’t think of my father while maintaining a good erection; it was one plate too many to spin.

“Oh no! What have I done?” questioned Tommy.

“You called me bottom, even after I said how top you were.” I said, in reply.

Tommy then laughed and explained that in gay speak ‘top’ means the person who puts his cock and ‘bottom’ is the person whose arsehole the cock is put into.

“Ha! Ha! Ha!” I said and then repeated, now no longer crying.

“Ha! Ha! Ha!” he said and then repeated, continuing not to cry.

“I’m sorry Tommy; I’ve not been an out and proud gay man for very long. I’m so rubbish at being gay. Not like you. You’re so good at being gay.” I conceded, my erection having tentatively returned to my penis.

“Donald, you put the letter ‘G’ into LGBT+.” He said to me.

“Thanks Tommy. Now how’s about you put the letter ‘your penis’ into my arsehole?” I suggested.

He said the word ‘gladly’ and then instructed me to sheathe his erection in a condom using only my mouth, which I did with aplomb; it was easy, just like eating all the chocolate off a Magnum leaving the ice cream intact, but in reverse.

“You’ve certainly got the hang of being gay, Donald”, Tommy praised me by saying that. After he’d finished praising me he lubricated his penis and balls, which seemed a tad wasteful, and then pushed his penis slowly but very erotically into my anus.

“Oh.”, I said.

He pushed deeper into my back passage.

“Oh.”, I said again. I repeated this a few more times as he pumped me like a pump. It was great gay sex, and tellingly I knew that even without having had gay other sex with which to compare this to. It genuinely was like having a satisfying poo after a big evening meal – Christmas dinner perhaps – and then having the pleasure (and it is a pleasure) of inhaling the poo back into the anus and then expelling it again, on repeat. Except instead of some poo going in and out, it is a man’s hard cock.

“Do you like that, Donald?” asked Tommy.

“Yes.”, I replied.

“Do you like my cock, Donald?” he persisted.

“Again: yes”, I replied.

“Do you like being split open like an atom by Ernest Rutherford, Donald?” he pressed.

“I like everything about what we’re doing now. You’re only going to get the answer ‘yes’ to these types of question, Tommy”, I explained.

“Great”, he said.

The great swollen courgette of Tommy’s penis swung back and forth like a fleshy battering ram into the broken gates of an anal citadel, which surrendered itself to the invading forces with the white flag of sexual consent and mutual erotic feelings.

“Oh.”, I said.

“Yeah.”, he agreed.

My anus was like a hula hoop, falling around the User Of A Hula Hoop Who Isn’t Very Good At It that was Tommy’s erection, only to for Tommy’s erection to think ‘practice makes perfect’ and to try again.

“I love your face, body and cock, Tommy”, I said, feeling the intensity of my gay feelings of erotic pleasure rising like an escalator with each thrust of Tommy’s fleshy, duty-free Toblerone sized (but not shaped) penis.

“Thanks” he grunted. He then yelled “Wow!” at me and pulled his stick or rock-like cock out of my bum, then carefully but with a panache that was truly sexy to behold pulled the slightly pooey (but in a fit way) condom off his confectionary-sized/like penis and blurped out a hot fizzing jet of semen, like Carex handwash out of a Carex handwash dispenser over my moderately excellent body and face.

“Well done, Tommy!” I exclaimed, firing my own string of gooey seed right back at his hot bod and fit face.

“Thanks Donald! Well done to you too. F***k you are so f***ck*g hot!”, he congratulated. Extremely taken aback but also aroused by his sudden recourse to swear words, I managed to come up with another orgasm on the spot.

“Oh, that feels so good for me!” I moaned at Tommy while it was happening, and it did too. As a gesture of thanks I put his damp but still tumesced penis into my mouth.

“Oh. That’s nice, Donald.” said Tommy, climaxing a second time, filling my mouth with his gay passionate feeling liquid. For myself, suckling on the nipple of the head of Tommy’s penis and the sudden release of goodness into my mouth was like patiently eating a Sherbet Lemon (without biting it) and discovering the lovely sweet fizz of the eponymous Sherbet centre. Or like putting a whole Chicken Kiev into your mouth and biting into it, releasing a hot jet of garlic butter, but I’ve only done that once and sucking Tommy off was much nicer in my opinion. I certainly didn’t intend to only give oral sex to Tommy once, and told him so.

“I’m glad to hear that, Donald”, said Tommy. We then fell asleep, and I dreamed of being gay and Tommy and other nice things. When I awoke the next morning I was sure that I never wanted this new gay life to end. Little did I know that I had so little time of gay happiness left. Change was coming. Good heavens, I wish it bloody had not!