Marty has always been a little bit… off. Just off. An odd guy. Nice, certainly, or maybe not nice but not actively antagonistic, but not by any sense of the word the most normal guy around.
Of course, that’s what a lot of my older brother’s friends are like. They were like that when I was a teenager visiting him and they’re like that now that I live with him. Nice enough guys that they’d give me a beer or ask me what college is like and tell a half-related anecdote about their time there, but they smell like smoke and have more of the conversation in their head then out loud.
I don’t mind at all. It’s really just nice not having to pay for room and board. This was the house my brother started renting his junior year of college in 2012 and it’s the one I’m staying in my freshman year of college in 2017. I can handle the parties and the random people coming in and out if it means I have a place to do my CS problem sets and a futon to sleep on.
That is, except for Marty. Marty is different.
For one, he lives with me, kind of. My brother “rents” out the attic to him, really just letting him sleep there and asking him to chip in for gas money. His fur is ghost white. He acts a lot like a ghost, actually, wandering around the house at odd hours, waking me up in the middle of the night when he rummages through the cabinets for cereal or advil. He recently got fired from his job as a security guard at a club and replaced that with editing other people’s Youtube videos, so he’s up in the attic most of the time. Weird, but nice enough.
He moved in at the end of my orientation week and we’ve probably had three conversations total. Sometimes he puts his paw on my shoulder when he passes and calls me “sweetheart.” My brother always yells at him to knock that off, to stop trying to intimidate me, but I never minded it. He’s just like that. Sometimes his gaze lingers on me just a little longer than I expect. I try to convince myself he’s just spacing out, but it feels intentional. I can feel his eyes on me.
But the real weird thing about Marty is the thoughts I’ve been having about him. They make no sense. He’s this deadbeat stoner borzoi that can’t hold down a job to save his life, but something about him sticks in my mind. Every time I’m flirting with a girl at a party or hanging out with my frat buddies who are begging me to join, I start thinking about Marty again.
We still don’t talk. I try to be there when he’s there so he can call me sweetheart again, so he can put his paw on my shoulder again, so I can smell his breath. When his eyes are on me, I put mine right back on him.
Nothing’s come of it for a few weeks, not that I have any idea what would come of it. We’re still not talking, probably not even up at the same hours as him. That is until today. I’m sitting on the couch doing a CS problem set when he yells out from the attic.
“Hey, sweetheart!” he barks out. “C’mere!”
I look up from my laptop. He was definitely talking to me. There’s no one else in the house and he’s probably not calling my older brother sweetheart. The rickety attic stairs are untucked from the ceiling, my little passageway up there. I climb up.
The first thing that hits me is the smell. Weed. Someone has been smoking a lot of weed up here. It’s pungent, thick, like I could try to swat my hand through it and my hand would be slowed down.
That smell would be coming from Marty, sitting on the loft ladder in a pair of gray briefs and nothing else, smoking a blunt. He looks at me with wary red eyes, like he didn’t just invite me up here. His body is long and thin – not quite gaunt but definitely on the way there. There is no fat on his torso. I look down as I climb in.
“Hey,” I say. “What’s up?”
“Hi, sweetheart,” he says again, almost cooing. It makes something in me flutter a little every time he says it. So cloying for such a dingy man. He grins rakishly. “I need help with the mini-fridge.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Movin’ it over there,” he points in the general area. You’ll help me, won’t you?”
I nod.
“Yeah. Strong kid.”
I squat at one end of it and he squats at the other. The thing is heavy, even with the two of us lifting it. We walk it over to the other side of the room by his desk and place it down. He squats down and plugs it in. I stare at his butt in his briefs.
Marty pulls a beer out. No wonder it’s heavy – it’s stacked to the brim with beer. “Want one?”
“That okay?”
“Sure, sure.”
I step back and take a sip of beer. Marty’s got a good little space up here. From what I can tell, though, it always looked like this and he just moved his computer and his beer cans in. The attic has an even further lofted section with a mattress on it. Underneath that is an old fratty couch, his computer desk, a lot of weed paraphernalia, and quite a bit of takeout trash.
“How’s college going?” he asks like the rest of his friends love to do, taking a seat on the couch. He taps the couch. “C’mon, sit. Feel like I haven’t gotten to know you at all, sweetheart.”
I take the seat next to him. Our knees touch. I can smell the weed on his breath. “Good, good. It’s ramping up.”
“Yeah? Got your buddies?”
“Mmhmm. All of ‘em live on campus.”
“Frat guys?”
“Some of ‘em are.”
“Got any girlfriends?”
I shake my head no.
“What, a handsome dude like you doesn’t have any girlies following him around?”
“I’m not really… I dunno.”
He nods with a little smile. “Not into girls?”
That makes me freeze. He’s right.
“I dunno,” I mutter. “I had this girlfriend my senior year of high school but we didn’t really… I dunno.”
“That’s okay, that’s okay. I remember my freshman year of college.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, what was that, 2010? I was crossed one night and hooked up with another guy. Changed my life.”
My eyes widen. “So you’ve done it before?”
“With another dude? It’s fuckin’ great.”
I realize my faux-pas and immediately stand up. “Sorry. Sorry. Doesn’t matter. Was that everything you needed help with?”
He laughs wide and spreads his legs. His dick flops in his briefs. “Hey, don’t get scared. You’ve been thinking about it?”
I swallow and sit back down. “You don’t think it’s weird?”
“It’s only natural that guys are gonna–” He sits up and starts gesticulating with his paws. “Dude, get this through your head. Guys are guys. Guys are horny. Guys want to fuck. Girls aren’t horny. You have to poke and prod and practically beg a girl to look at you, right? Meanwhile, there are all these guys that are horny. It only makes sense.”
“Oh, man. That does make sense.”
“Yeah?” He leans back. “You think any of your buddies would be into that?”
“How do you know?”
Marty presses his paws together. “You know. If they ever complain about needing to get off, about being stressed. Stupid shit like that.”
“Most of them have girlfriends.”
“You’d be surprised.” He chuckles. “You think they’re a no?”
“Probably not.”
“Who would you wanna do it with?”
Images I’ve forbidden myself from thinking about enter my head freely. I press myself back into the couch and cover my reddening face with my paw. “I dunno.”
“C’mon, you’ve thought about it. I can tell.”
“Uh… my buddy Randall.”
“Yeah? What about him?”
“He’s… we have compsci 111 together and he’s kinda my closest friend there. He’s a tiger. He has nice legs.”
I pull out my phone and find a photo of the two of us together. Marty grins when he sees it. “Randall. Pretty attractive guy, huh?”
“He has a girlfriend.”
“They always do.”
“So you’ve… like, done it all before?”
“Yes sir. Up, down, left, right, side to side.”
He’s sitting so provocatively, bulge freely visible. I’ve been trying not to look at it just to respect his boundaries, but at this point it’s harder to not look at it.
“Whatcha looking at, sweetheart?”
I swallow. “Um. Sorry, I…”
He laughs. “Hm?”
“I…”
“C’mere, sweetheart.”
I have no idea what possesses me, but I lean in. He brings his face right up to mine. He opens his maw. Breathes his weed-tinged breath onto my face. I grip my shorts tighter.
“What’s my brother going to say?” I whimper.
“He doesn’t have to find anything out, sweetheart.”
I give a little nod.
“Good,” he whispers. “You wanna know what it’s like? C’mere.”
And he pushes my head down to his crotch.
“Pretend I’m Randall.”
It’s so warm. I feel his cock stiffen up against my face almost immediately, pressed into my cheek. I asked for it but I’m still so surprised that it’s even happening. The briefs smell the same as the rest of him — strongly like weed and a lot like sweat. My dick is fully hard by now too.
“Go on then, sweetheart.”
I put my paws on his thighs and push a few inches off. My paws are ready but I can’t do anything but stare at his bulge in his briefs. I’ve never seen anything like this before. It’s long. Nice and long. His briefs are loose enough that his cock isn’t pinned to the side but it pushes out to the front where it naturally rests. I’m transfixed by the length but also the head of his penis, the way it creates a space in the fabric with no folds at all.
I glance up at Marty. He has a patient grin on his face. “A lot to take in, I know. Lemme help you out.” He grabs my right paw and pulls it forward onto his bulge. I grip the thing in my paw — familiar like my own, almost, familiar in the way that holding the stick shift of your car is, but still so new. I give it a good squeeze on impulse and he grins. “Just like that.” It throbs in my paw.
At this point, I can practically shake it out of his briefs with the way it’s positioned against the fly. Keeping the one paw where it is, I use the other paw to ever-so-carefully slide his cock right out of the fly.
It’s amazing. Like the big cocks in porn I try not to look at when I’m watching the girls get fucked. Not quite as girthy, maybe, but long, just like him. How does such a thin man have such a thick cock?
I push back in, his cock inches away from my muzzle. I tremble a little bit. A little dot of precum leaks out of the tip of his dick and presents itself to me perfectly, a little round sphere containing everything I’ve secretly been longing for. That’s about to be in my mouth. I take a deep breath to steady myself and go in.
“Goood,” he whispers. “I didn’t even have to ask.”
It’s salty. Warm and salty. I’ve tried sucking my own dick before, as I imagine every man has tried, but I’ve never quite gotten there. It’s such a strange taste, definitely not nice but I also don’t want to pull away. I run my tongue over the head of his dick a few times. Marty leans back and bites on his thumb.
I let it a little further into my mouth. I have to open wider than I expected, show all of my canines. It slides down my mouth until it hits the back of my throat, but at that point there are still a few more inches before I hit his pubes. I sit there and just feel it in my mouth, feel the absurdity of this situation.
I never thought I would suck a cock before. I never even thought about sucking cock before. That information he wrangled out of me about Randall was something I have never expressed in words before, never even fantasized about. It was deep down in my subconscious, something I thought when I looked at him and packed the fuck away for later. It didn’t mean anything at all. My buddy can have nice legs and I can want to hang out with him because he’s my best friend and it doesn’t mean anything at all. It doesn’t mean I’m gay, it doesn’t mean I want to fuck guys, it doesn’t mean nothing.
And now I’m sucking Marty’s cock.
I am pissed off. I’m a straight man and he’s using my deepest impulses against me to get off. His head is laid back on the back of the couch, his mouth open, not even looking at me. He doesn’t care what gives him head as long as he can cum in someone’s mouth.
I pull away and wipe my mouth off on my sleeve. Marty can see the anger on my face because he goes into damage control instantly, putting a paw on the back of my head.
“Hey hey hey, what’s going on?”
“You just want to get off.”
He rubs my nape with his thumb. He nods in agreement. “I do.”
“You just brought me up here to get off.”
“That’s not untrue.”
“What’s your fucking problem?”
“Hey, shhh. We agreed on this, didn’t we? Guys get horny, other guys help ‘em out. That’s all that’s happening here. I saw a horny guy and an opportunity to help him out. That’s all.”
“I’m not gay.”
“I never said you were gay. I’m not gay. We’re just having fun.”
I have no idea what to say to that, because he’s right. Nothing he said isn’t true, isn’t something we’ve already discussed. Pressed right up against this thing I have no idea how I feel about (figuratively and literally), I am so malleable.
Marty puts his paw on the back of my head and beckons me back in, not pushing but giving me a light tap I could easily get myself out of. I know I have to make a choice. I can walk away, pretend I never wanted anything to do with it and was manipulated into it, or I could give into this instinct in me and go for it.
I don’t push. I don’t fight. I let him push me right back into his cock, looking up at him all the while. He smiles once I make contact. “There you go, bud. That’s what you wanted, huh?”
I grip the base of his cock and start going down on him like how girls do in porn, like how I wished my ex-girlfriends would handle me. Quick but tight, nice and firm. It slides in and out of my mouth easily. Marty leans right back and enjoys it.
Then, I start licking right between the shaft in the base, since that’s what I always liked. Marty lets out a moan, then laughs a little. “You’re good at that. You sure you haven’t had any practice?”
“I’m just doing what I would want done to me.”
He smiles. “You’re a good one.” Then he pushes me right back onto his cock.
It’s so easy. I don’t know why my exes never understood this. I guess they don’t have dicks and don’t know how it feels to be given head, but clearly I understand the assignment. Marty tries to maintain his composure but I see his toes curling, his tail wagging back in forth. I start to go faster.
“Shit,” he moans. “I’m getting close. Keeeeep doing that.”
I do. I do exactly as he tells me to. He starts to focus in again, putting his paw back on my head and guiding my movements. I’ve most definitely done that before, had an exact way I needed my dick to be sucked to cum, so I just keep my head down and follow what he wants. Soon enough, he pushes my head down as far as he can get it and bucks his crotch forward.
“Fuuuuuck,” he grunts. “Fuck fuck fuck.”
His cum fills my mouth. First tickling my throat, then with nowhere to go moving forward to my tongue. It’s even more of an acerbic taste than his cock has, but with his paws on the back of my head I can’t do anything but swallow it. Some of it dribbles down my chin, a combination of spit and cum caking my neck, but most of it goes to my stomach.
I take a deep breath in through my nose as he keeps my head pushed in, letting the very last of his cum drip into me. I swallow that too.
Finally, he lets his grip go. He folds his arms behind his head and looks down at me satisfied. I pull off of his cock and look up at him.
“So?”
I just breathe. Breathe and stare up at him.
“I have to go.” I say, getting up. I don’t even know if it’s audible, if it wasn’t anything more than the vague movement of my mouth, but I don’t care. I have to get out of here.
He doesn’t move a bit as I stand up, just sits there in his post-orgasm glow. He lets me get to the exit of the attic without saying anything, but barks out once I’m about to step down.
“Sweetheart?”
I look back at him.
“You looked beautiful down there. Truly gorgeous.”