Date: Fri, 17 Mar 2006 16:54:13 -0500
From: Chris Creamer <ou.ohyeah@gmail.com>
Subject: Tyler Series 6

We're barely out of the driveway when I lean over Tyler's stomach, unbuckle
his seatbelt and start unbuttoning his shorts. He keeps driving.

I lick the head of his cock playfully and for a moment I feel like
something's pushing against my head. Like...a hand. His hand.

 I sit up and look at him. He's looking at the road.

"What?"

"Don't."

"Don't what?"

"I'm not in the mood for a blowjob." He doesn't even look at me when he
says it.  "What? You said `we'll see.' What gives?" This is me
protesting. And damn well I should; he did say `we'll see' and I took that
as a guarantee. Probably stupid of me, but come on.

"I said," Tyler said bluntly. "I'm not up for it."

"Fine." I settle back in my seat and watch the scenery go by. Lots of trees
getting their leaves back this time of year.

After five minutes, I look over. Tyler's still staring dead-ahead like some
crazy NASCAR driver. His cock is limp against the folds of his
shorts. Hmm. Doesn't want a blowjob but doesn't repackage the goods. Odd.

Sigh. The silence is unbearable. I'm used to having someone to talk
to. Used to having voices around me. Cock-loose Tyler over there...he's not
helping. So I decide to do something about it.

"You wanna tell me what's up?"

"No." Still staring straight ahead.

"Why don't you tell me why you let me come over last night, hmm? Why don't
you tell me why I sucked you off, why you liked it, and why we ended up
falling asleep together?"

I don't say it hatefully, and I'm not even out for a guilt-trip. I just
want the truth. That's fair enough.

Tyler looks at me, with those hot eyebrows angled sharply. Maybe this is
him being angry. Or confused. And he goes back to watching the road.

"Alright," he says after a minute.

"You ready to tell me what's up?"

"Shut up for a second, John."

I shrug and play along. This guy could full-nelson me into the middle of
next week. That's not a bad thing—I'd rather prefer it—but he's imposing. I
think I know better than to piss off a wrestler.

"Okay," he says slowly. Like he's trying to make sense of his own
words. "You know...I have a girlfriend."

"Sarah, yeah. So what?"

"You know I can't cheat on her. You know that."

A bigger sigh this time. This is irritating. Pure and simple.

"Christ, Tyler. You're worried about cheating on the love of your life? And
then you go ahead and sleep with me. That's love, I tell you what."

He slams on the breaks and we both lurch forward a bit as the car comes to
a stop. It's a backroad, so I highly doubt anyone will raise hell.

"We can't do this anymore, John. It's...it's not right." His breathing gets
erratic.  "Okay," I say quietly. Give the boy some room. (and that's
exactly what he is. 17 years of perfected boyhood. Perfected, hot, dripping
masculinity boyhood). "If you don't mind...how is it weird?"

"Jesus!" his voice is loud and shrill. Kinda like the kid who peeks at his
Christmas presents early to find a surprise that immediately loosens his
bowls. "You sucked my fuckin' dick, John! If that's not the height of
fucked up, then what is?"

"Lying about it," I say plainly.

He catches himself and calms down. "Okay, you've got a point."

"Oh I know that," I patronize. "Wha about you moaning as I sucked you
off. What about falling asleep in my arms? Jesus, you gave me dry clothes
to change into, bent over in the locker-room to show me your ass and
more. What the hell were you doing?"

"I...I don't know. I thought it would be interesting."

"It's so fortunate, isn't it? I almost remember what my life was like
before I became a cock depository." By the time I reach the end of the
sentence, my voice reeks anger.

It comes without warning. Tyler leans in and kisses me hard. Throwing his
tongue past my lips. Time stops like it always does, and he pulls away.

"That was real," he says. "You're not a tool, John. And I never thought
so. But I know you like me. Shit you've probably been jacking off to me for
years. Not that I blame you, but I wanted to see what it was like."

"To take advantage of someone?"

"To be a fag, goddamnit!"

My hand flies through the air and leaves a sore spot on his cheek the color
of roses and blood.

"I'm not. A fag. And I swear to God, if you ever call me that again I'll
rip your cock off and feed it to you."

He rubs his cheek, and for a moment I think I see a tear stream down his
face.  "Now," I continue. "Barring your little science experiment. Tell me
what you thought. How did it feel to have your cock sucked by me instead of
Sarah?"

"You were better at it," he says quietly.

"Sure I was."

"Yeah." More tears. I pull a tissue from the center console and hand it to
Tyler.

"Christ, don't cry. I'm sorry I hit you."

"I'm sorry, John. For everything. I was a dick, and..."

"Tell me something, Tyler."

"What?"

"Honestly. Tell me if you liked it."

Through teary eyes, he smiles. "It was great."

"Alright," I say and smile right back "That's all I wanted to know.

"I don't follow." He dries his eyes.

"If you enjoy it, and God knows I do...then it's not weird. Make sense?"

"Yeah," he says softly. "It does. But..."

"What?"

"Sarah can't know about this."

"Not a problem."

Not at all...