I was only wearing a sweatshirt, jeans and sandals, and Rob had me out of them in short order, leaving me just my boxers for covering and his hands, stroking my chest, my sides, my arms, for warmth. His mouth was busy, too, nibbling again at my throat, teasing my nipples and then gluing itself to my lips as his arms surrounded me and pressed our upper bodies together.

"There," he breathed as the kiss ended. "Nothing like a little busy work to stave off spontaneous combustion." He stepped back and appraised me. "You are a really good-looking guy, Simon. Those shoulders, Jesus! You know, if Paul Newman had your eyes, he could have been a big star." He laughed. "Do you mind jokes with your sex? It's just that I'm really nervous."

"Don't be. Please, Rob. Let the first one be on me." I pushed him gently backwards to sit on the bed and then knelt on the floor to pull down his jeans and then the boxer briefs against which his erection was straining. He was right. His cock wasn't special. It was perfect. Six inches or so and maybe a little thin, but it fit right into my mouth as though the two were yin and yang. He gasped.

"Simon!" It was a muted shriek. "I'll come if you do that! I can't hold it!"

I wanted to tell him that that was the whole idea, but I didn't want to open my mouth to speak. Instead, I clamped down hard and pushed his legs wide apart so that I could put a finger on the yielding outer surface of his hole. That pressure was nearly all it took. His beautiful, hot, hard penis pulsed against my tongue and then erupted. I held on till the last spasm, hearing him shout in wordless release, feeling his hands clamp around my head and inhaling the delicious reek of his crotch. Slowly, slowly, I let him begin to withdraw from my mouth, but as he did, I tongued his shaft and then the head.

"Oh, don't!" he yelled from above me. "It's… I'm so sensitive. Oh, Simon!" He scooped me up onto the bed to lie next to him and started to kiss my body as he scrabbled at my underwear. "Simon, you shouldn't have done that. It was incredible. I'm not usually so quick, so gross. I'm so sorry. I want to make it up to you. I've got to. Now."

"Soon, baby," I said, rolling onto him and pinning down his arms. "Soon, but not right now. Right now, I just want to hold you. And if you like, you can hold me. Rob, I loved having you come like that. You needed it, and I really liked helping you. You are special. Special to me, from now on."

Those startling green eyes of his got suddenly moist. He freed his arms and wrapped them around me. "Simon," he said, "despite appearances, I'm not an easy lay. Not usually. But I felt something for you when we met, and I feel a whole lot of things for you now. I hope you meant it."

"Meant what?"

"That I'll be special for you." The eyes overflowed. "I really need to be special for someone again." He pushed his forehead into my shoulder. "I have to tell you something awful," he moaned.

"No, you don't." I stopped him. "Rob, you beautiful man, there couldn't be anything awful about you." Still, I had a terrible thought. I'd swallowed his seed. What if he was sick, contagious? You aren't supposed to get it from semen, not usually. Still.

"No, it's awful," he insisted, "but it's funny, too. It's about the fish. I didn't catch it. I didn't catch anything. I bought it. Just so I could get you to help me cook. I played a trick on you. I'm sorry." He started to laugh nervously. He looked at me and laughed harder. I don't know what expression I had on my face. Surprise? Relief? Probably puzzlement.

"Rob," I tried to snap him out of it. "Rob! Damn it. Listen to me. There's nothing to be sorry about. That's the nicest thing anyone's done for me in a long time. I'm really flattered. "

He was giggling now. "You should be," he gasped. "It was a very expensive fish."

That set me off. We were like kids, screaming with laughter, as though we'd smoked some really fine Jamaican weed. And when we'd exhausted ourselves, I started us up again.

"You really didn't have to go the trouble," I chuckled. "Didn't Zeke or Barry tell you? I am an easy lay." Rob rolled over to muffle his hilarity in the mattress, and through my own guffaws, I eyed his butt. It was exquisite. I put a hand out and stroked him. He stopped laughing.

"Simon, do you want to fuck me?" There was something tentative in his voice.

"Only if you want me to, sweet man. You've got a great ass, Rob. Yes, if we're going to make a habit of telling each other the truth, yes, I would truly love to fuck you. You've done it before, haven't you?"

He nodded. "And it hurt?" Another nod. "It can happen. It doesn't have to." I took his hand and guided it through the fly of my boxers until his fingers closed around my cock. It wasn't completely soft, but it wasn't erect either. I let him bring it to life.

"You're pretty big, Simon," he ventured, not letting go. "But I don't want to be a coward. It's just, well, it's been a long time since anybody did that. Not since college, actually, not since Zeke. I spent the next ten years or so going straight, being straight, I mean. I was a different kind of coward. And some things still scare me."

I started to speak, but Rob put a finger on my lips. "No, Simon, let me finish," he said. He let go of my penis and lifted my legs to pull my shorts completely off. Then he grasped my dick again and bent his head to lick me with gentle, thrilling swipes of his tongue. "Most of all," he stopped the moist massage and looked up at me. "I'm scared of finding someone to love and then disappointing him and turning him off. I'm scared that if you put yourself into me, it'll hurt, and I'll show it, and you'll stop, and we'll be washed up before we start. Does that make sense?"

"Some," I said. "But what if I like hearing you scream while I pound your ass?"

"Then I'd be really, totally wrong about you. And I don't think I am." It was a question.

I grinned. "No, in the sack, I'm just mild-mannered Clark Kent. I don't get off on pain, mine or anybody else's. So I'm not going to hurt you, because then I'd lose you, and, believe me, I don't want to lose you." I kissed him. "Rob, baby, I do want to make love with you, but there are lots of ways we can do it without having it hurt. Let's just stick to mutual pleasure. What are the things you like to do?"

"Other than cooking and hiking and chamber music and good books, you mean?" He grinned enormously. "I like looking at you. I like seeing the way your left eyebrow goes up and the right one just lies there. I like hearing your voice. I like your lips and the way they taste. I like running my fingers through your hair. I like holding you in my arms. I like that a lot, Simon. You seem to fit right into me. And I'd like sucking your cock. Is that what you had in mind?"

"How would you like it if I did you while you did me?"

"A lot. I'll try not to disgrace myself this time."

He didn't. At least, not in the same way. Hot and urgent though he was between my lips, he was also lavish and energetic and creative between my legs. The way his tongue worked my balls and the flesh behind them, I thought he was taking inventory of my erogenous zones, and when he began to manipulate the head of my dick between his lips, I was the one afraid of losing control. It turned out, though, that his skill and enthusiasm had their limits. When he tried to take me deeper into his mouth, he began to choke. He tried a second time and failed again.

"I'm so sorry, Simon," he withdrew his own cock from my mouth and sat up. His voice was anguished. "I'm hopeless. I have a gag reflex that's like a hair trigger. And I've never learned…"

I put a hand on his shoulder. "Rob, how many men have you been with?" I asked.

"Zeke. That was in college. Kevin, the bastard who broke up my marriage. Three others. One-night stands." He was sobbing. "Oh, Simon, I wanted it to be right with you. I want it so much."

"It will be right, baby. I want it, too. I just didn't realize that you…"

"That I'm clumsy and spastic and ignorant." He was trying to be light, but what came through was embarrassment and a kind of fear. I drew him down onto the bed and tried to be consoling.

"Rob, you don't have to be perfect at everything."

"I don't think I'm perfect at anything, Simon." He clutched me. "I'm a lousy lover. Karen used to tell me that all the time."

"Karen?"

"My wife. My ex-wife. When she found out about Kevin and me, she said that explained everything. Then she threw the pot that fractured my nose."

"And what happened to Kevin?"

"I'd already broken that off. That's why he told Karen. For revenge. Or maybe he hoped he'd get me back. I don't know. I haven't spoken to him since."

"Rob, I bet you could be a wonderful lover if you loved the right person. You just need to take some time."

He was silent. I ran my lips over his cheek. "You know, I think I might have some openings."

"Where? For what?"

"In my tutorial schedule. For fucking lessons and sucking lessons and loving lessons. I'm not a bad teacher"

"You've been teaching that gorgeous boy? Thommy? Isn't that his name?"

I decided to stretch the truth. I nodded and smiled enigmatically.

"But if you've got him, why would you want me?"

"He isn't gay and, besides, I don't think he goes for chamber music."

Rob grinned. "Simon, could I try again?" His fingers closed gently around my cock. "Even if I can't take you all the way, I'd like to show you how I feel about you."

"Sure." I started to scoot around so that I could get my head back to his crotch.

"No, Simon, please." Rob was up on all fours, straddling and immobilizing me. "Let me just concentrate on you."

He crawled backwards until he was kneeling between my legs and then lowered his head till his mouth came to rest on my penis. He fondled it between his lips with predictable results, and when it was up and saluting, Rob surprised me. He took my legs and raised them at the knee to go over his shoulders. Then he put his hands under my butt and lifted it, too, so that my testicles dangled enough that he could attack them with his tongue. He drew each of them into his mouth for a prolonged, warm, exciting bath. My cock waggled between my belly and his forehead until he lowered me to the bed and delicately pulled the shaft upright to his mouth.

"Simon, you're beautiful, but you are big."

"Flatterer."

"No, I mean it. Both. You are beautiful, but I've never sucked a cock as … well, as meaty as yours, and I don't breathe all that well since Karen rearranged my nose, so I'm really going to just have to, sort of, basically jack you off into my mouth. I wish I could swallow you up, but you'll see, I'm pretty good at masturbation. Lots of practice." He ducked his head, a little shame-faced.

I propped myself up on my elbows. "Rob, don't apologize. Don't be ashamed. Please, make love to me any way that's good for you, any way you want. It's making love that matters. It's the only thing that really matters."

"But you have to prove love, Simon." He shook his head. "It's not just words." He began to lick at my shaft, covering it steadily with his saliva, and occasionally swiping at the tip of my cock with his broad, wet, wonderful tongue. I shivered. It felt so good. I spread my legs further, and Rob understood immediately. He wet an index finger and began to probe me. I moaned as he slipped inside and, at the same time, wrapped his fist around me and began, gently at first, to pump my erection.

"Oh, God," I whimpered, "do it, Rob. Do it, baby."

He increased the friction and the tempo and put the head of my dick between his lips, circling it with his tongue, caressing the underside and coddling the tip in his warm breath. His finger, too, pushed deeper into me until a wave of heat surged fiercely from my prostate. I shouted and writhed and came and came and came. "Jesus!" I yelled. "Oh, sweet Jesus! No more!" Rob was still at it. "For god's sake, no more!"

At that moment, though I didn't see it happen, the bedroom door swung open and Thommy lunged through it. "Simon," he yelled, "Simon, are you all right?" I opened my eyes and saw him pull up short, his jaw dropping. "Oh, Shit!" he said. "Shit! I'm sorry. I thought… I didn't…" Retreating blindly as he spoke, he crashed against the open door and rebounded back toward the bed.

Rob was looking at me in horror, some of my cum dripping on his chin. I reached out and cleaned it off him with a finger. "Rob," I said, trying to pretend indifference, "you met Thommy last night. Thommy, you remember Rob. Did you want to join us, kiddo? You're a little overdressed."

The boy looked horrified. Rob who had been scrabbling to pull a sheet over himself relaxed and joined the game. "We were just warming up," he giggled. "Why don't you come on in, Thommy? You're halfway in as it is. Come on, we can make room for a hunk like you."

"Simon," the kid cringed away from us. "Simon, I heard you shouting. I thought you were in some kind of trouble. Simon, you didn't put a handkerchief on the door." He was almost babbling. "Oh, God, I didn't know you had… had company. I'm so sorry. I'll go." He spun around and fled.

It was my turn to be sorry. I hopped out of the bed and into my shorts and out the door. I found him in the kitchen, shaking as he tried to pour a glass of water. "It's all right, Thommy," I put a hand lightly on his arm. "It's okay. It's my fault. You're right. I should have let you know. I just forgot about handkerchiefs. We shouldn't have made fun of you. I apologize."

"It's not that, Simon," he turned to me, and I saw that his beautiful face was splotchy with blushes. "It's just … well … you move so fast. You said this morning that Rob didn't mean anything to you, and then the two of you were … were doing it … in our bed. And you …"

"'Our bed'?" I was genuinely surprised by the pronoun. "It's my bed, Thommy."

"But we've made love in it, and," he burst into tears. "I thought you loved me, Simon." He wrapped his arms around me and wailed. "I thought you were going to take care of me, but you were lying there naked with another man sucking you off, as if I never existed."

I couldn't have been more surprised if I'd found Madonna in my kitchen declaring her passion for me. Thommy, who had convinced himself and me that he was irrevocably heterosexual, seemed to be laying claim to my love, to my body, to my bed, to me. It didn't make sense, and I told him so.

"I agree. Things with Rob happened kind of fast," I said, "but to the best of my recollection, you declared yourself sexually off limits to me just this morning. We were going to have a nice friendship with occasional cuddling, the way I understood it. You could have owned me, Thommy, but you said you didn't want to. Besides, you can have anybody you want. You don't need me, and I need somebody. Maybe it will be Rob."

"But I do need you. I need you a lot." He clutched himself as though in pain. "You've made me who I am. You can't just dump me for some skinny dweeb. I need you to hold me when I sleep so that I'll be safe."

"Safe? You're not in any danger, Thommy. You're on your way to being famous and successful. Nobody's trying to hurt you. The whole world is going to love you."

"What makes you so sure of that?" His voice was plaintive. My self-assured young idol had feet of clay. "You're the first person, the only person, who said he loved me. Cammy never said it, and my mother and father just don't say things like that even if it's what they feel. But I guess it's easy for you. You can talk about love and not mean anything." He tried to pull himself together, but it was too much effort. He slumped onto a stool and buried his head in his arms.

I bent over him, stroked his back and whispered, "Baby, I do love you. I really do. Let me send Rob home, and we'll talk. We'll work it out."

He didn't look up, didn't answer me, but I left him there anyway and went back to the bedroom. Rob was dressed and curious. "What was that all about?" he asked.

"I can't believe it, but it looks like he's jealous. He thinks I don't love him."

"Do you?"

That stopped me for a couple of seconds. "Up to a point. On a physical level, yes," I answered. "He is incredibly beautiful, and I go for beauty in a big way. Emotionally, too, I care about him because he sometimes seems so innocent, almost an endangered species. But I don't want to give him the rest of my life." I looked at Rob, hoping he'd pick up the cue. He didn't.

"Last night I told you that I have a crush on him and that I let him walk all over me. Well, a few hours afterwards, he did it again. It wasn't nice, and this morning he apologized and said we shouldn't have sex any more. And I agreed. Now I can't figure out what he wants."

"When you do," Rob ran his hand through my hair. "Will you let me know?" He kissed me. "Simon, I'm counting on those lessons you give. I had a wonderful time tonight. I really hope we can get together again. Soon. Just the two of us."

"That's the way I'd like it." I walked him out past the mirrors to the door and held him for a few seconds. "I had a wonderful time, too, Rob. Thank you for being patient with me. I'll call as soon as I can."