Worth A Shot - 1. Chapter 1

Have you ever watched someone flex their back muscles? I mean really watched them do it? The way the shoulder blades gradually pinch in and bunch up the skin and muscle along the top region. The way the whole torso slowly tapers off to a narrow waist as the muscles along the side of the spinal column seem to bend the whole back gently in or pull it out respectively. The way the whole glorious thing gradually descends into their shorts. It’s a work of art.

I’m pondering all of this, and doing a good bit of lusting, as I lie on the couch not reading a book and watching Ben do crunches. He does at least one hundred, every single day, even on busy days. You have to admire that sort of dedication. And even if you can’t it’s certainly easy enough to admire the abs that come along with it.

Today is Saturday and it’s really what I consider our first day together as cohabitating partners – I know that sounds very clinical, but the budding sociologist in me favors this term. The weekend I moved in was of course spent physically moving me in. And doing a few other physical things. Then we had finals all week and had to also deal with getting all my junk unpacked and situated.

By the weekend everything was pretty much settled and classes were over. Seems like the perfect time to relax and get adjusted to ‘home life’, right? Well not exactly. For one thing that weekend was anything but relaxing. The time surrounding the end of the semester for the major colleges and universities in Houston is always a pretty wild period with regard to parties and social events– and if there’s one thing I’ve learned about Ben, it’s that he hates to miss a party – so pretty much from Friday afternoon after finals straight through to about 3am Monday morning is a total blur of loud music, out of control college kids, alcohol, and more illegal drugs than I ever expected – or wanted – to see. Ben mostly stayed out of trouble regarding the drugs…well I think he did anyway. In all honesty I was so drunk and/or sleep deprived the whole weekend that I can’t be too sure of anything. At one point I seem to remember walking out onto a balcony and catching him and Daisy acting weird and sniffling a lot, but like I said...I can’t really be sure of much of anything.

Ben really amazes me. As exhausting as that weekend was – for me at least – he started work at his dad’s company bright and early on Monday morning! Me? I didn’t even get out of bed until he got home a little before 6:00. The truly shocking thing is that he then dragged me out to yet another party! Tuesday and Wednesday were sort of his recuperation days. Both nights he came home from work and went straight to bed, sleeping until morning. I’d rather have spent some time with him, but I was just glad he was willing to get some rest. I swear I don’t know what was holding him up that weekend! Well often it was either me or Giorgio…and most of the time it was Giorgio, but that’s beside the point. Any rest he wanted was just fine by me! Thursday and Friday were pretty typical evenings for Ben and me. By ‘typical’ I mean we went out, but at least we didn’t stay out all night.

Based on some remarks Daisy made – something about me ruining Ben’s life and being a social pariah – I got the impression that Ben usually hosts an end of the semester party that’s rather noteworthy in the A-gay world. When I asked him about it, he just said there wasn’t time this year and changed the subject. Of course I’m pretty sure the reason ‘there wasn’t time’ was because we were too busy moving me in and getting my stuff situated for him to plan it. I do feel bad if I ruined some kind of tradition for him, but on the other hand the thought of my new home – which is a fancy condo in one of the nicest parts of Midtown – being turned into something like one of the party houses we went to is kind of terrifying to say the least. Honestly I doubt we’d even have all the drunks and stoners awake and cleared out yet, not to mention the vomit, food and alcohol stains, and broken furniture cleaned up. Granted Ben has a maid, but if he hosts parties like the ones I’ve seen...well he must have to give her a pretty nice bonus!

Anyway, now it’s Saturday again and it’s officially two weeks since I’ve moved in. When Ben asked me what I wanted to do today, I told him that what I really wanted was just to spend a quiet, typical day in together, doing all the things we would normally do. The problem with that, of course, is that on a typical day Ben is neither quiet nor in. Oh sure he does his crunches, and all the other stuff one normally does at home: showering, shaving, getting dressed, and his full regimen of other beauty enhancing and maintaining activities – like he needs to worry about such things! – but after all that he’s usually off somewhere. So my insistence that we just spend the day inside together getting used to each other’s little ways…well I think it kind of threw him. In fact I think he’s desperately trying to figure out what to do with himself.

Thus the reason why he’s now doing his 174th crunch and I’m watching the sweat glisten off his perfectly formed back. Believe me, It’s a great view, but I really wish he’d turn around. Watching his abdomen relax and contract 174 times would have been a sublime treat indeed!

I suppose it’s a bit amusing if you think about it. I mean my justification for keeping us both inside all day was so that we could ‘do the things we would normally do’ and just sort of get used to it all, but on a normal day he doesn’t do 174 crunches and I don’t stare idly past my book. I guess it’s about time I stop him so that we can decide on a new activity...on the other hand I might as well enjoy the view until he gets to 200, right?

“Sweetie?”

“Yeah,” he responds stopping, then a weird expression creeps across his face and before I can continue he says, “Hey! That was an even 200. Were you counting my crunches?”

“Umm, of course not. You were muttering under your breath.” Hey I have to keep up appearances right?

“Oh, sorry. I wasn’t bothering you was I?” He asks apologetically glancing at my now closed book laying on the coffee table.

“Not at all,” I respond suggestively with a wink.

“So I was muttering under my breath, huh?” He asks dubiously as he gets up and climbs onto the couch, straddling my waist in my reclined position.

“That’s the story and I’m sticking to it!” I insist playfully, crossing my arms.

“Hmmm, I think I know how to get the truth out of you,” he says with a thoughtful smile before starts to slowly lean over, inching his face closer to mine. I had just closed my eyes in anticipation of the kiss and when it isn’t forthcoming I open them again. He looks into my eyes and gives me an evil grin. The next thing I know there are fingers assaulting my ribs and stomach.

I try feebly to block the attack but he’s already reduced me to little more than a pile of laughing flesh. Eventually it dawns on me that the simplest way to get rid of him would be to roll forcefully onto my side. This would no doubt result in toppling him from his position on my waist. I start to do just that but then I catch sight of his face. He just looks so damn beautiful and happy that I don’t have the heart to do it, and suddenly I’m worried he might hurt himself in the fall. So, I decide to resume my feeble blocks and take it for awhile longer.

Fifteen seconds later I’m counting my lucky stars that I made that decision as he inches forward onto my abdomen, pins my left arm against the couch with his right one and leans down to give me that long anticipated kiss. I’m completely lost in it as our tongues are dueling, when I suddenly realize with a small – but not insignificant – amount of surprise that at some point he’s unbuttoned and unzipped my jeans and slid them down my hips.

“Is that the equivalent of undoing my bra with one hand?” I ask as I break the kiss and look pointedly at my exposed briefs.

“No, but this is,” he says as he once again pins me down and resumes the kiss. I can plainly feel one hand inching my shirt up and rubbing my abdomen; however, when I feel cool air against my warm cock I realize that it was misdirection.

“Damn! You’re good,” I say as I sit up in surprise.

“I know.” He says with a smirk as he quickly takes advantage of my no longer recumbent position and turns his attention back to my shirt, quickly raising my arms and pulling it over my head.

I’m now sitting here on the couch, completely nude save for the jeans and underwear bunched around my ankles. I think it’s about time to do something about Ben’s over-dressed state.

“Com’ ere.” With that I grasp both his shoulders and pull him forward and down toward the back part of the couch as I wiggle my way on top. I begin kissing him, working my way down from his throat, to his collarbone, and then his chest. At this point I decide it’s time to remove those workout shorts, so, leaning back a little and arching my back, I begin to do just that. Unfortunately, my still pant-clad ankles have just become tangled in his legs and the sofa cushion, and the next thing I know I realize with alarm that I’m about to fall. As I sit up from my position between the couch and coffee table Ben takes the opportunity to have a laugh at my expense.

“SMOOTH, Aar!” he teases me as he laughs loudly. Damn his stomach looks good when he laughs, particularly right now while I’m at eye-level with it and only inches away.

“Lemme help you,” Ben says as he leans back, throws his legs in the air, yanks off his shorts and underwear, and then spins forward so that he’s facing me, wrapping both legs around my neck and gently moving my head toward his erection.

“You’ve got to stop being so damn subtle about what you want, babe,” I deadpan as I look up at him before returning my attention to the stiff organ inches from my nose.

As I gently grasp his shaft and ease it into my mouth I can’t help but think about...Ronnie.

Weren’t expecting that were you?

It was the Thursday evening after the Monday night that I had my little...errr BIG freak out with Mick.

“Ronnie, can I ask you something?” I inquire loudly from my stool at his bar.

“What did you say?” he asks as he turns off the blender and opens a cabinet door to remove two margarita glasses.

“I said, ‘can I ask you something?’” I repeat as he fills the two glasses with his strawberry concoction and places them on the bar near me.

“Sure, what’s up?” he asks making his way out of the kitchen and around to the other side of the bar to join me.

“Eugh! Are they supposed to be this sweet?” I ask with a grimace as I take a sip from my drink.

“MMMmm, YESS!” he responds emphatically as he samples his own.

“Uhh, I think I’m going to just pass on the strawberry margaritas then. Thanks anyway,” I say as I slide my beverage away. “I’m really just a beer kinda guy.”

Ronnie looks horrified.

“Sweetie, I know what you just said, but what I heard was, ‘I’m going to be fat and bald by the time I’m 30 and my wife isn’t going to have sex with me anymore’,” Ronnie says gesticulating dramatically.

“Umm, I wouldn’t want a wife to have sex with anyway,” I respond.

“Then drink your margarita, sweetie,” he answers knowingly as he slides it back over to me.

“Ronnie that’s ridiculous!” I burst out, “I bet this thing has more calories than a beer anyway, and it’s not like drinking beer is going to turn me straight. So what the hell does my drink have to do with ANYTHING?”

“Whoaa, OKAY. No margarita for you. Why don’t I just go get you a nice Xanax and some chamomile tea,” Ronnie offers soothingly. I’m really not sure if he’s kidding or not.

“I’m sorry, I’m just a little bit stressed right now,” I apologize.

“I know, Aaron, and I thought the strawberry margaritas would help...I didn’t know they’d piss you off.”

Actually YOU pissed me off, Ronnie, but let’s ignore that.

“It’s okay.”

“Still the drama with Mick, huh?” Ronnie asks.

“No, not really. I mean I guess sorta, but really it’s...”

“It’s...?”

“Well, it’s what I was going to ask you before...” Geez I can’t talk about this!

“Yes??” Ronnie asks. I can tell he’s trying to be patient, probably because he’s worried he’ll end up wearing my margarita if he isn’t – not that I would ever actually do that – but I can also tell that his patience is wearing thin.

“It’s just I think that Ben didn’t...uhh...I mean I don’t think he really liked it when...”

“Aaron! What doesn’t Ben like?” Ronnie demands as he grabs my chin and forces eye-contact.

“When I suck his cock!” I blurt out with frustration, before instantly turning a shade of red that rivals our beverages.

“Ohh.” Ronnie mumbles, momentarily surprised. “Well, I’m sure you know what you’re talking about here, but just so you know, most guys actually LIKE that.” He continues as he waves his hands with a flourish. Fuck Ronnie, are you having a conversation with me or are you chasing flies?

“I know he’s SUPPOSED to like it. THAT’S the problem,” I answer tensely. “I’m not very good, okay! DAMN!”

I still don’t like this frickin margarita, but tequila is tequila I decide as I drain half the glass.

“Oh CRAP!” I gasp in pain seconds later as I rub the space where my eyes meet my nose.

“Oh sweetie come here,” Ronnie says sympathetically as he gets off his stool and envelops me in a big hug.

“I’m afraid the alcohol doesn’t really do anything to prevent brain freezes,” he says in a soft voice as he rubs the side of my head.

“I’m okay,” I decide after a few minutes as I pull away. He smiles and sits back on his stool.

“So, you wanna learn how to suck dick better?” Ronnie asks bluntly, summing up the situation.

Oh God!

“Uhh, never mind,” I respond, freaked out as I borrow one of Ronnie’s dismissive gestures.

“Aaron it’s okay,” Ronnie says as he grabs my arm. “Look it’s no big deal, it’s not rocket science or anything, but there’s definitely a technique. Come with me,” he says as he stands up and pulls me off my stool.

“Where we are going?” I ask.

“To my room.”

WHAT?!?

“WHAT?!?” I think that question needed vocalizing.

“We’re going to my room so I can teach you,” he laughs.

“Ronnie...” I start with a squeaky voice.

“Oh relax! We’re not going to practice on each other,” he says as he leads me down the hallway and into his room.

This was definitely a mistake

“Voila!” Ronnie exclaims with a dramatic wave of his arm as he opens a drawer next to his bed. A drawer filled with condoms, lube, dildos, and all manner of sexual devices.

“Oh my God!” I gasp and actually stumble backwards.

“What? A boy gets lonely sometimes,” Ronnie says innocently.

“Uhh, this...umm NO!” I decide turning around.

“Aaron do you want to learn how to please Ben orally or not?” Ronnie asks firmly as he grabs my wrist and pulls me back toward the drawer.

‘Do I want to learn how to please Ben orally or not?’ Hmm, well I thought I did, but if this is what it takes maybe I’ll just say nice things to him instead and save us all the embarrassment.

...Only Ronnie doesn’t seem embarrassed.

“Dude, this is freaking me out. Couldn’t we just like, I dunno, practice on vegetables or something instead?”

“Vegetables? Oh come on! We’re not thirteen.”

“Thirteen!? You were practicing oral sex on vegetables at thirteen?!?” There’s a bit of information I could have done without.

“Calm down, it just means I’ll be a better teacher.”

“Oh Ronnie...”

“Okay, so we’ll start with just getting used to having it in your mouth,” he says as he reaches into the drawer and pulls out a modest size toy.

“Ronnie...Um, I know where those go, and I am NOT putting one in my mouth.” This isn’t open for debate!

“You’re so uptight! Look, they’re all clean I promise. I’m not some kinda dirty freak, but if it makes you feel any better...” With that he stalks into the attached bathroom and begins washing it at the sink. ...And there’s a visual image I could have done without.

“Happy now?” he says shaking it dry as he returns to the room.

“Not even close,” I say with wide eyes as he moves toward me holding it up menacingly.

“Quit whining and suck it!” Ronnie says as he hands me the dildo. Oh my god! That line was just like something out of a cheap porno.

“Okay, first of all. This is NOT analogous to Ben,” I point out looking at the tool in my hand, and remembering how much fuller my hand is when Ben’s tool occupies it.

“I should hope not,” Ronnie states regarding the instrument dubiously. “But you have to crawl before you can walk.”

“Ohhhh! MMMhhhh!! UHH”

That would be Ben letting me know just how well I’m walking these days.

“Sssttt Uhhh ooopppP”

If you listen carefully you can tell there’s a word in there somewhere, I ponder as I swirl my tongue around Ben’s shaft.

Soon I feel his hands pushing my face away and in a ragged voice he says, “Stop. I want you to fuck me now.”

Like I said, I wish the boy would just quit being so subtle and tell me what he wants.

“Upstairs?” I ask standing up.

He just nods and holds out his arms. Accepting the request I lean over and lift him off the couch. He quickly wraps his arms around my neck and his legs around my waist.

It’s difficult for me to move as I enjoy the pure sensual pleasure of the contact. His cheek against mine. The side and nape of my neck cradled between his strong, firm bicep and forearm. The feel of his stiff cock pressing into my abs. His firm ass cheeks already gripping my erection. God, how am I going to make it up the stairs without cumming?

Halfway up the stairs Ben decides it’s a good idea to suck on my neck. Three quarters of the way up the stairs I decide he’s right. At the top of the stairs I decide we have to do something; I can’t go another step without tasting his lips again.

“Ohhh!” He exclaims, surprised as I set him down and pin his body against the wall with my own.

“Aar-” I think that was going to be my name. Probably followed by a question or a comment. At least that’s the course that the conventions of dialogue in the English language normally dictate that a conversation follow. However, at the moment, having a conversation is woefully low on my list of enjoyable activities to do with Ben.

We continue to make out for several minutes. I can’t get enough of the full body contact we have going on. His hard, defined chest against mine, his smooth, rippling, sweat moistened abs pinning our two, steel-hard cocks against my own stomach. The way the soft hair on his thighs is gently tickling my leg. The way his bicep feels against my side as his arm snakes its way around to my ass. The way his index finger is gently circling and pressing in on my hole, while his other hand firmly kneads and messages my right butt cheek.

Suddenly he surprises me by jerking both hands up to my shoulders and shoving me against the opposite wall of the hallway.

“Ben, I – Oh my god!” I gasp as I dig my fingers into his shoulders, desperate for something to hold onto. He’s now on his knees with my cock in mouth, his left hand pressed firmly against my abdomen, and the index finger of his right hand gently tickling me from inside. Amazingly he accomplished this position in one seemingly instantaneous and fluid motion.

“Uhahahhaaa” Yes, that’s a direct translation from Cavemanese.

I’m desperately trying to remind myself not to hurt Ben with my fingernails...on the other hand I’m also desperately trying to remember to breath.

“Ohh. MMMy. God. BENN. LEeet me FUCK you!” I practically scream, the sublime mixture of pleasure and desperate, unfulfilled desire rendering any illusion of self-control utterly laughable. “I...I have to HAVE…have you! NOOWWW”

Almost as quickly as he’d moved into position Ben disengages. As he stands up he regards me casually he says, “I thought you’d never ask.”

“Fucker,” I mumble under my breath at him. He just laughs throatily and grabs my arm, yanking me down the hallway and into the bedroom.

Once we get through the door he jumps onto the bed, opens the bedside table and pulls out a condom and a bottle of lube. Then he regards me expectantly.

As desperately horny as I am – and believe me if I stand here much longer I’ll run the risk of slipping in the puddle I’m dripping – I can’t help but take a moment to admire his beauty.

He’s lying there, six feet of lean, tanned, and toned muscle, accented by light brown hair and practically glowing green eyes, waiting, wanting...needing. The way his soft, full lips are curled into a grin of flagrant desire has given his countenance a sort of ‘fallen angel’ appearance. My God, I have to have him!

Jumping onto the bed I quickly lock lips with my dirty angel and roll him onto his back. I then assault his left nipple as my hands happily and lustily feast on the pleasures his 100 sit-ups a day have garnered. Meanwhile he seems to have found a way to tickle my backdoor with his feet, and I briefly consider the merits of encouraging further exploration.

Instead I opt to begin something which will ultimately bring us both what we so desperately need. I quickly slide my tongue further down his torso and toward his cock. I briefly take a moment to taste the treat which awaits me at its tip before proceeding my downward assent.

With such an obvious request Ben quickly acquiesces and raises his knees toward his face and elevates his midsection for me. With unhindered access I quickly go to work on his pucker with my tongue, all the while gently messaging one of his balls with my right hand. My left hand has found his right one and, in so doing, this whole lusty experience is belied by an undercurrent of intimacy symbolized in our interlaced fingers. Gradually, between his ever increasingly relaxed sphincter and his ever increasingly strained breaths, I realize that it’s time to go the next step.

Ben likes sex, and he likes his sex unpredictable and exciting, but I’ve learned that there is one series of activities that he’ll never complain about, no matter how many times I do them. With that in mind I pour a generous amount of lube into my hand and begin massaging his hole, gradually slipping one, then two fingers inside of him as I resume employing the fruits of Ronnie’s instruction on his cock.

By the time I open the condom and unroll it over my own long-ignored erection, Ben has been successfully reduced to little more than a pile of incomprehensible moans, cries, and occasionally shrieks. A job well done if I do say so myself.

As I line up my aching cock with his hole I gently pull his pelvis back onto me and, almost comically, we both find enough voice to blurt out:

“Oh FUCK!” in unison.

And fuck we do. All over the bed, and loud enough that, even through the fancy, solid walls of his condo, the neighbors could surely hear us if they were home.

When at last we’ve both cum – Ben twice – we curl up in a sweaty, sticky ball relishing each other’s arms and dreading the necessity of the shower looming in our future.

“So this is what you do on a typical Saturday in, huh?” I inquire as I trace the outline of the muscles in his stomach.

Pausing briefly, he considers the question before concluding, “It is now.”