The first time I got tested we had to wait two weeks for the results.
When I finally went back, I went by myself because I didn’t have anyone to confide in, but as soon as I sat down there was a voice behind me saying my name. I turned to discover my senior year english teacher sitting right behind me.
“Are you getting tested or getting results?” he asked. Out of all the people I could have bumped into he was surprisingly the best. As the closest thing to an out gay teacher at my high school I had spent more time talking to him about my sexuality than any other person on the planet. In fact, seeing him next to me, with the same nervous look on his face that I had, was practically life saving.
“Results,” I said. “You?”
He nodded, and before we had time to say anything they called us each into separate rooms. The consultation was a blur, but I remember they pointed to a number on a page that I didn’t understand. It wasn’t until they told me to stay safe and healthy that I realized the page said I was negative. In less than five minutes I was standing in the parking lot with relief flooding my body.
Without thinking I threw my arms around his neck and hugged him. He was a few inches taller than me and built like a tree; I took every advantage of comfort he had to offer. I needed something solid right then.
“Good news,” I whispered, stepping back with a flush on my cheeks.
“Me too,” he said with a smile.
An hour later, after coffee and a sandwich, I sat in the passenger seat of his car looking back and forth between him and my shoes. Graduation had been just weeks before, but suddenly it felt very far away. His smile was strangely shy, but his hand brushed mine just closely enough that everything was clear. I didn’t move away and neither of us said a word. I turned towards him, my seatbelt undone, and I leaned in closer.
Our kiss didn’t last long. It was big and sloppy with a touch of scruff to make sure I knew it was real, but within seconds my hand was on his cock and there was only one thing to do.
I’m not sure if I asked. Maybe I simply looked at him longingly, or opened my mouth in just the right way. Whatever it was I did, he understood. It was a silent question he answered without words.
He nodded and gently pushed my head down into his lap even as he undid his jeans. His head was thick and red, but I didn’t have time to look before opening my lips around it and tasting him. He grew harder in seconds as I wrapped my hand around him, and I tried to take more into my mouth than I ever could. His moans were instant and for a moment I wondered if what I did mattered at all. I licked up and down him, amazed at how different his cock was from my own, but I didn’t stop. I sucked him back into my mouth even though I gagged each time he thrust into me.
“Oh fuck I’ve wanted your mouth all year,” he moaned as I tightened my grip on him and went back to swirling my tongue around the head of his cock. “I’m gonna come,” he said just moments later, his fingers entwined in my hair.
I didn’t pull back, although part of me wanted to watch. I was determined to do it right, and so I took him in again, swallowing as much as I could before he started erupting into my mouth. It was thick and salty, and I couldn’t take all of it at all. I had to come up for air and I watched him spurt onto his jeans and boxers, even before I went back for more. I didn’t stop until his spasms slowed down, and his moaning finally turned into soft sighs of relief and release.
I sat up, wiping my face, and leaned back in my seat.
“Do you want me to get you off too?” he asked, his thick cock still standing up straight.
“I’m okay,” I said.
We were quiet as he adjusted his clothes. He drove me back to the clinic where I had left my car, and we kissed on the cheek when I got out. I drove for hours before finally going home, my brain constantly moving and never slowing down. Up in my bedroom later that night I jerked off thinking about sucking his cock once more.
A year later, he called me in college and told me he wanted to fuck me. I laughed and mumbled something friendly, but we never talked again. On occasion, I still get hard thinking about myself in the front of his car, my lips around his cock as he moaned my name.