Page 29 of A Straight Line

Chapter 7

Thump-a-Thump & Fireworks

“So, that,” Denny’s head thumped against the wall of the garage, “was, uh, oof, when we decided it was best to, uhnf, split up, I guess.”

Thump-a-thump.

The dance music that was playing outside thumped along.

Thump-a-thump.

My head was bobbing up and down, Denny’s fingers were trailing through my hair, and he hadn’t stopped talking since I had dropped to my knees in the dark garage and took him in my mouth. It wasn’t unpleasant, I guess, having someone tell me why they were single while I sucked them off, but it was unusual. I’d never had a guy try to get to know me while I was giving him a blowjob. Then again, I’d never offered to exchange sexual favors with a guy at a party after having known him for a few hours. However, between the quick adrenaline the beer provided, the music, the dancing, the merriment of the gays, and the deep well of loneliness in my gut, doing something so out of character had seemed like a great idea in the moment.

In the few minutes I had been kneeling before him, Denny had managed to encapsulate why he was single and how his last relationship had fallen apart. I also knew how he had come to live with Bird—old college roommate helps out a newly single, practically homeless friend—and why he chose to come back to Littleburg of all places. I tried to listen to the background information he gave me on himself, but I was kind of busy with…other things. I didn’t know if it was ruder to ignore what he was saying or to perform a less than satisfactory blowjob. No one had ever given me advice on what to do in such an odd situation. It was altogether ignored in the Gay 101 course.

“So—oh god,” Denny groaned, “I guess you could—oh, just like that—could say I’ve been single ever since. It’s not so bad, it’s—shit, that’s amazing—but I get lonely sometimes.”

I tried not to roll my eyes up at him as he carried on, and I bobbed up and down on him.

“Bird keeps me from getting too lonely, I guess, but—I’m getting close, fuck—but he’s not loquacious or anything,” Denny said. “Mostly—oh shit—he just makes enough noise so that the house isn’t too quiet, and—fuuuuuuuuck.”

Being familiar with the sounds Denny was making, I sped up my movements, my head bobbing up and down faster, wanting him to finish. At least when it was my turn, his mouth would be too busy to tell me about what he’d had for breakfast or what he wanted to be when he grew up. Or about some cute squirrel he’d seen at the park. Something about Denny, though, told me that he probably talked in his sleep. He probably talked while brushing his teeth. He. Was. A. Talker.

“It’s great not being, uhnf, alone,” Denny said. “Holy shit. I love not being alone. Here it comes.”

Then he was spilling forth, and his words became a garble of sounds and groans. Which was fine with me. At least he wasn’t trying to teach me more about himself while he orgasmed, and I swallowed. For a few moments, after his orgasm had subsided, Denny stroked my head and ran his fingers through my hair while I nursed him. Then he was pulling me up off of my knees and dragged me close to him. I knew his intentions and wanted to avoid that if at all possible. So, instead of meeting his lips with my own, I gave him a sly smile and shoved him downwards.

With Denny silent—for obvious reasons—I was able to concentrate on the goal I had set out for myself when I had so brazenly propositioned him in the gazebo. I just wanted to feel something. With the thump-a-thump of the music outside, the voices of party attendees having the time of their lives, and Denny on his knees in front of me, I did feel something. Denny was doing a more than adequate job of the task that had been assigned to him, so it felt nice. I hadn’t had another guy touch me in a sexual way in months—mostly of my own choosing. But I mostly felt lonelier.

How can I feel so lonely with a party going on yards away and a guy giving me head?

Has a time come when getting a blowjob from a virtual stranger doesn’t perk me up?

Not that I was in the habit of doing such things, but going completely against character was something I thought would help snap me out of my mood. At least a little bit. I didn’t think that propositioning Denny would completely change my life or even fix every single problem I had, but I thought it would at least make me happier for a few moments. And I guess I was a little happy. What guy isn’t happy getting head, right? But knowing that Denny was just a stranger at a party—admittedly, a nice, fun, talkative one—and not someone I was in a relationship with just reminded me that I was alone. The guy with the most intimate part of me in this mouth was just some guy.

It hadn’t been at the forefront of my mind when I had woken up earlier in the day—trading blowjobs in a dark garage with a stranger while the party raged on outside. Of course, I hadn’t even known that Denny existed until he arrived at the party, so how could it have been a thought? I braced my hand against one of the studs in the garage wall behind me as the other hand went to the back of Denny’s head. He was hungrily going to town, obviously immersed in and laser-focused on the activity that had been my suggestion. He was doing a pretty good job, so he hadn’t lied about not being drunk when I had asked. The reason I had asked was to make sure he wouldn’t say “yes” as a simple bad drunken decision while feeling euphoric at a party and then regret it later.

Non-inebriated consent is the best consent.

It’s the only consent that counts, actually.

I could feel myself building towards orgasm as I looked down through the darkness of the garage to the dark blur that was the top of Denny’s head. I didn’t want to admit it, but even with my dour mood—which usually kills my sex drive—Denny was bringing me to the brink. The guy obviously knew what was he was doing. For the briefest, and most blissful of moments, I forgot all about being alone, feeling like I’d be alone forever, being a sourpuss, being socially awkward, and just gave myself over to the feelings lower in my body. As soon as I did that, my body went rigid, and stars exploded in my eyes as my other hand grabbed at Denny’s head. He continued to forcefully bob up and down on me as I rode the waves of my orgasm and emptied myself into his mouth.

Then it was over.

Luckily, my mood only went halfway back to sour.

Ecstasy made it impossible to be downright grumpy.

“Jesus,” I muttered as Denny released me and rose to stand in front of me, a massive grin on his face.

“I think you enjoyed that.” He chuckled.

I reached up and put a hand over his mouth as I leaned my head back against the garage wall.

“Shhhhhhut up.” I chuckled hoarsely. “Don’t ruin this.”

Denny was obedient, letting me hold a hand over his mouth as the last bit of the euphoria drained from my body. I was left sagging against the garage wall, feeling as though some tension I hadn’t known I’d been carrying around with me was drained away. Metaphorically speaking, of course. Slowly, I let my hand fall from his mouth. My palm was a little wet with his spit, and, well, possibly other fluids, which was kind of gross, but easily fixed. I let my hand fall to my side, making a mental note to find some soap and water before I did anything else.