Darren: Virgin

His legs, hairless and pale, seem almost blue in the darkness of my bedroom. They match the color of my shoulders, upon which they rest softly. The light of the full moon, as it reflects from the roof beyond, shifted every hue into something softer and unearthly. The two of us were the faintest of wisps in some world beyond our own, revenants merging in the darkness.

“Are you ready?” I whisper.

Our faces are mere inches apart. The young man lies on his back in the most vulnerable position he’s ever assumed in his life, I suspect. He looks me in the eyes and nods. “Do it, dude.”

He smells of soap and the traces of some scent applied probably that morning and long forgotten. I help him tilt his hips so that they rise in the air to meet the angle of my slick, lubed cock. Then I press the head against his hole. I feel burning, where flesh meets flesh.

On The Amazing Race, one of my favorite shows for years now, the producers always come up with some pithy means of explaining the relationship between the pairs competing for the grand prize. They’ll be listed as Brothers or Married Couple, or Firemen or Home Shopping Hosts. When things are on the skids, they’ll be identified as Estranged Couple. A few years back there was one team of young Christian things who, notoriously, whenever they appeared on screen every show, would have the legend Millie & Chuck: Virgins prominently displayed below their faces.

And every time it happened I thought to myself, Ouch. If they wanted to remain virgins, that’s none of my concern (although they were a little snappy and on edge the entire race). But it seemed such an embarrassing thing to hang one’s reputation on for an entire TV season.

When this boy had walked through my front door that night, however, and I’d first seen his sweet, narrow face with its sprinkling of baby fuzz on his chin, his freckles, and his slender body hiding beneath falling layers of athletic clothing, all I could think was one thing. That boy should’ve arrived with a subtitle that read Darren: Virgin.

I’d asked him, of course. When we’d chatted online over the weekend, I’d asked if he had any experience. He was barely of age, after all. He assured me that oh yeah, he’d taken lots of dick before. Sure thing, dude. He loved having his hole used. In person, though, there was something that told me he was lying. He didn’t flinch when I came at him, or tremble at the touch of my hand. He wore the blank, determined face of someone doing something they wanted to get done with, though—like a doctor’s appointment or a root canal.

He’d twisted and moaned and even attempted to squirm away from my mouth as I’d rimmed him a few moments before, so intense were the sensations I produced in him, but my hands held him firm as I’d licked and sucked and dragged the prickles of my beard over that most sensitive and unopened of spots. He’d gasped when I’d worked some cold lube inside, but his moist hole had been relaxed enough to open for my index and middle finger. Now his eyes are still half-closed, but as I nudge my dick against him, his jaw juts out. He’s worried about what’s coming. “Do you want me to go slow?” I ask, already knowing the answer.

He takes too long to consider the question, as if he’s trying to think, so what would a non-virgin say? Finally he nods. “Sure,” he whispers. “Whatever you want.”

I smile to myself. Fine. We’ll play it like that, as if it’s me who needs to take it easy, because his ass might rip up my cock. Before he can tense up, I slip in the first two joints of my index finger, keeping his hole moist and open. Then I pull out, and replace it with the first two inches of my dick.

I’ve slipped in those and a third when suddenly he realizes what’s happening. His body had been reacting with pleasure, but his brain clamps down and stops me from going any further. “Sssh,” I tell him, whispering into his ear. His eyes are closed all the way, now. His jaw hangs all the way down. He’s gargling little animal noises at the back of his throat, guttural and barely audible. “It’s not going to hurt. Push out a little. Not hard. Just a little. Go on.” I apply a very little pressure with my dick that makes him yelp. His breathing is shallow and quick. “You can do this,” I tell him, barely breathing the words in his ear. “A couple more inches and it’s all yours.”

“I . . . want it,” Darren manages to grunt out. He’s biting his lower lip now. I can tell that he’s determined to live through it, even if he doesn’t enjoy it.

I’m a mean taskmaster, though. I’m going to insist he enjoy it, rather than limp away licking his wounds and know he’s endured.

Slowly, gradually, I go in inch by thick inch. I’m in no rush; I’m not getting softer. And in his position, he’s not going anywhere quickly. “You look so good,” I tell him. “You look so beautiful with my big dick inside you. You know that?”

His eyes open. In the dark, they’re hard and black, tiny domes of obsidian glinting in the reflected moonlight. “Really?” he asks.

I nod slowly so that he can see it. Not only see it, know that I mean it. “Oh yes, son,” I say. “You do indeed.”

It’s that word, son, that unlocks him. He relaxes completely, and in one go I slide the rest of the way in.

Before he can clench again, I grab his hand and pull it around, beneath where my balls hang. I make his fingers feel where my sac is resting against his butt cheeks. “You feel it?” I ask. “You’ve got it all. The rest is easy.” His mouth is already open, but it becomes even more slack. His breathing evens out and becomes deeper. He’s in awe, as his fingers travel around the circumference of my meat. “You’ve got it, son.”

“I can’t believe it,” he murmurs. His head lolls to the side. He’s overwhelmed by the enormity of it. Not just my dick, but what he’s doing with it. “I can’t believe. . . .”

Darren's voice trails off in the night. Instinct takes over, and he begins to roll his hips, enjoying it. Now that I’m in, and now that he’s hooked, I begin repositioning myself, turning both my body and his until we’re spooning. All the time I maintain the connection of rigid flesh between us. His legs instinctively fold, and I let mine curve behind them. My arms go around his narrow chest. My hands rub up and down his hairless skin as slowly, so very slowly, I start to grind against him.

Several minutes later, it’s over. A load leaks from his hole and onto the blanket. The night is quiet, with only the noise of the occasional car driving by down the road. “Why didn’t you tell me?” I ask into his ear.

“Tell you . . . ?”

“That you were a virgin.” He chuckles to himself a little at my question. “I asked you several times.” He seems almost ashamed at my chiding, mild as it is. “That was your first time getting fucked, wasn’t it?”

“I. . . .” He grapples with his words, trying to pull them out of the night. I hold him the entire time, pulling him against my warmth. “I didn’t want you not to like me,” he says at last, very quietly.

The words make him seem more naked than before.

I pull him even closer, and rest my face in the crook of his neck. “No chance of that, kiddo,” I tell him, making the words sound firmly in the night. It’s as if I hope the words rumbling in my chest will penetrate into his deepest core. “No chance of that.”