The Drive Dodger

He’s nervous. I can tell that much. I imagine in his position I probably would be too. Honestly this is triggering some concerns about consent. I should ask again.

“You’re sure you want this?” I ask, trying to make my tone sympathetic, but firm.

“Dude you don’t understand. I fucking hate needles.” He’s struggling to remove his shirt, apparently so flustered that he hasn’t realised it’d probably be a better idea to remove his baseball cap first. He doesn’t look too bad, honestly. Perhaps a little doughy round the middle, but who cares about that, really? Honestly once I can see the whole of him, it might even look a little cute. “Like, I nearly pass out getting my flu jab every year.”

“You know they don’t make you, right?” I ask, still a little incredulous of his whole plan. “Like, you can just say you don’t want to and they can’t do shit. It’s a voluntary donation.”

“Yeah but like…” He’s figured the hat out finally. His shirt drops to the bed and he fumbles with his belt. “It’s like… a duty thing, right? Like if I can, I should. It could save a life.”

“I still feel like if you’re so anxious about it it’d make you fall unconscious that counts as a medical exemption of some sort. And how is this different from wimping out if you’re choosing to do it?”

“Look man do you wanna get laid or not?” He seems a little indignant at this point. I might have pushed too far.

“Sure I do. But this plan of yours is… wack, honestly. I’m having a bit of trouble believing you want to get laid.”

“Shut up, man. I need an excuse. I…” he grits his teeth as his jeans fall to the floor. “I want this.” It’s not the breathy, sexy rendition of the phrase one would expect in a steamy romance novel, but it’s good enough for me. Maybe he’s found a convenient excuse for exploring his relationship with his masculinity, or maybe I really am being exploited for the adult equivalent of a doctor’s note. Either way, he wants this.

“So uh…” He says, rolling the words around in his mouth as his brain strains itself to broach what he obviously sees as an awkward question. “How do you… uh… decide who… um…”

“Generally before now.” I say, flatly. “You get a vibe, or you just say on Grindr or whatever. I’m the kind that can do either, but I didn’t want to spook you, and honestly I have no idea how it works with straight boys.”

“Right, right, guess we don’t have the like, culture, or whatever.” He avoids my gaze.

“Something like that.” I put one knee on the bed and put a hand to the waistband on his boxers. “You know I’m pretty sure last time I checked the website oral was on the banned list. If it’d make you more comfortable just to get a blowie I think that counts.”

“Can you check?” He asks pleadingly. I sigh and pick up my phone, navigating to the NHS website.

“Just says oral and anal.” I say, a little apologetically. “Nothing about positions. I have to guess both. I mean, it’s fluid exchange either way, potentially, right?”

“I guess…” He says, unconvinced. “But…” He seems to be steeling himself. “But I wanna be sure. Do me in the ass.”

“Woah… are you sure, man?” I ask, a little trepidatiously.

“Yeah.” He seems emboldened by having been decisive. “I mean, I’m pretty sure it’s still the same amount of gay whatever we do, but like…” he shrugs a bit. “If it’s not, I’m not doing myself any favours by chickening out.”

“Ah yes.” I say in a gently mocking tone. “Fellas, is it gay to have gay sex? How gay?”

“The scholars of the locker room have pondered that one for millennia.” He says, in a similarly pompous affectation. “And yet, it remains a mystery.” Hey, that was pretty funny. I might be loosening him up. Figuratively.

“Okay.” I say. “But you gotta understand this is going to hurt. It’s going to hurt a lot if you’re nervous, but it’s still gonna hurt a fair bit even if you aren’t cause you’ve never done it before. Not saying it won’t feel good too, but like… don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“Hey man, I know.” He’s putting on a little face of determination that’s almost endearingly childlike. “I was thinking, like, maybe I end up with one of those kinky chicks who’s really into pegging, she’s gonna go nuts if I’ve got experience, right?”

“That is a really weird way of looking at it, but hey, maybe. Whatever floats your boat, champ. Get on the bed.” I tug his underwear down. “Did you clean like I said?”

“Yeah man.” His voice sounds indignant again, which I really hope means “Of course I did.”

“Sure fucking hope so.” I grit my teeth. “Cause now ain’t the time to get cold feet about hygiene cause it might be gay.”

“I did, all right?” He protests again.

“All right, I’m sorry.” I pick up the lube from the chest of drawers behind me as he bends over on the bed. “Just gonna start with my fingers here, loosen you up a little. Try to relax.”

“Okay.” I can tell he is trying, but he’s flexing the wrong muscles. I try to guide him a little without resorting to analogies that’ll kill the mood.

“You have a real nice butt.” I say, by way of conversation as he gasps at my fingers entering him. “Girls like it?”

“Some of em… guh… yeah.” He replies. “Get more than a few slaps in clubs.”

“Well then…” I say, trying a sultry voice to set the tone. “Perhaps your strapon queen is out there after all.”

“You… nng… you think so?”

“I don’t fucking know, dude.” I laugh. “Probably. Girls are into kinky shit too, they just get made to repress it more.”

“Yeah.” He says, the tone turning noncommittal at the end of the word as he realises he’s not going to be able to talk for a moment.

“Okay.” I say. “That’s three fingers now. You doing okay bud?”

“Hurts a bit dude, I’m not gonna lie.” I can hear his lips are pursed. “But my dick seems into it, I’m pretty hard. Keep… ah… keep going.”

“That’s the plan.” I rustle the condom wrapper as I tear it open. “I’m gonna use a rubber, okay? The website says they don’t give a shit if you used one, they ban you either way; and strikes me I don’t know where you’ve been, nor you me.”

“Sure.” He grunts. I roll the condom down over my cock and get ready, lubing it up.

“So like… you done this for anyone else?” He asks, obviously trying to keep the momentum going by making conversation.

“Amazingly, no.” I reply, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “You are definitely the first straight man who has ever approached me… hell I’m gonna take a punt on approached anyone– with this utterly ludicrous plan to get out of something he doesn’t even have to fucking do. You’re a pioneer, buddy.”

“Huh.” He chuckles, a little deflated. “Uh… hey I like your hair, by the way. B-but I didn’t pick you cause of it! I know it’s still gay, doesn’t matter how girly you are. I know I gotta be mature about it.”

“Sure you didn’t, pal.” I say, a little incredulous as I line up behind him.

“No really! It’s just a really cool style, is all, with the shaved sides an’ everything? It looks really good on you. I- guuuuhhhhhoooohhhh GOD!” He shudders as I enter him, his back convulsing.

“You doing okay mate?” I ask, putting a hand on his shoulder to steady his nerve and my balance as I push a little further in.

“Gyyaahh sure thing!” He turns and gives me a very unconvincing double thumbs up. “Keep going!”

I slowly slide further into him. “Just let me know what feels good and what doesn’t. The walls are soundproofed here and my neighbour’s away with his daughter in hospital, you can get loud if you need to.”

“Ogay.” His voice is muffled. He’s buried his face in the pillow. “Don’ stob”

I begin pulling out again. There’s a yelp of surprise from the other end of the bed.

“You okay bud? I know what you’re thinking and don’t worry, you haven’t. It just feels like that when you’re not used to it.”

“Ogay. Carry ob.” He gives a wavering thumbs up.

This carries on for a couple of minutes as I walk him through Getting Assfucked 101. To his credit he does okay, my fears of this turning into a totally unhot Straight Boy Freaks At His First Anal are mostly unfounded; he’s pliant to my direction and communicative with his feedback on what feels good, if a little gunshy about using actual words for things. I also manage to pry out of him that he likes my haircut because there’s a girl he fancies who has it as well. How true that is I have some doubts about, in all honesty, but it’s certainly plausible.

Finally we’re entering the final approach. He’s rock hard and I’ve given him the all-clear to stroke it if he wants but he seems content to just let me hammer his button and get off that way. For about twenty seconds there’s no sound but the rhythmic slap, slap, slap as we both shut up and then…

“Aw fuck dude!” He says with a tone of alarm. “I think I’m gonna cum!”

“Hold on!” I plead. “I’m nearly there man just hold on!”

“Okay, hurry up!” He begs, through gritted teeth. I’m pounding away like there’s no tomorrow by now and just as I feel the relief of blowing my load I hear a guttural groan from in front of me as he loses control himself.

“Oh shit, man, oh fuck I’m sorry.” He looks behind him at where he’s spurted past the towel and onto the bedsheet.

“It’s… fine.” I gasp as I pull out. “It’s laundry day anyway don’t worry about it, you’d hardly be the first. Anyway, go take a shower buddy. I recommend you don’t look till you’re done. There’s a grab bar in there if you have trouble standing, fuck knows why but it’s come in handy many times. I’ll stick your clothes outside the door.”

He stands up and totters over to the door, unsure on his feet. I watch after him to make sure he doesn’t faceplant over the steps down to the landing, but he makes it.

“Is there gonna be blood?” He asks, in a faint tone of voice.

“Maybe a little.” I call. “If there’s a lot tell me, but a little should be fine.” I drop the condom into the bin and get to work on a token effort cleaning myself up with the towel. Once I’m satisfied I’m at least marginally un-enfilthened, I sling on my bathrobe and wait for him to finish.

He pulls his clothes inside and a minute later steps out, towelling his hair before sticking his cap back on. I sidle over to him, looking up at him with a smirk.

“So how was it for you?”

“Uhh…” He avoids my gaze. “I mean… I didn’t hate it? You know I’m all about those new experiences and whatever, you saw my Tenerife photos on Facebook, right?” I had, though I questioned the correlation between kayaking and taking cock. “Hey look man, it was okay, I came didn’t I? But you know why I did this. I’m still straight, sorry.”

“Sure.” I say, in a voice that lacks as much conviction as I think he might have liked.

“I mean, I won’t say I didn’t get what I wanted.” He beams. “So uh… see you next year for round two, I guess?” He smiles a bit too wide.

“In three months.” I say.

“What?”

“Three months, dude.” I wave my phone in his direction, the website pulled up. “Used to be a year but they changed it in 2017. Now you only have to wait three months.”

H e stares at me, and then at the phone, aghast. He stutters, briefly unable to speak. “I…uh…I mean… like I guess…”

“Look, mate, you do you.” I say, unable to stop an air of smugness creeping into my voice. “But if you’re still scared of needles in three months and you haven’t asked that girl with my haircut out yet… hell maybe if she’s cool with it… you know where I am.”

He opens his mouth a couple of times like a goldfish, and eventually concedes defeat, putting his hand on the bannister as he prepares to step down.

“Yeah, I guess.”