Banana Split
Chapter
Three: Thumbs Up
Hebrews 13:1
Let brotherly love continue. Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for thereby some have entertained angels unawares.
Thumbs
up or down? I didn't try and hide my hand from the driver. He
was still looking at the road signs, trying to find the
next exit which I guessed was either at the top of the pass or some obscure hiking trail. Any exit at this altitude would mean
a night of shivering. Without rain gear or a tarp, if worse came to
worse, I would be forced to walk out onto the freeway in the icy rain
and hope one of the crawling 18 wheelers pulled over. If not, I would be grateful for a pissed off police ride, even if it meant a ticket. More than likely I would be given a warning, but I wanted to forgo these possible scenarios if possible.
But this was part of a stage that
was set for me, however I wasn't sure what my role was. I needed a
cue. With my right fist out in front of me with the thumb extended
horizontally, I asked if I should give Timmy what he wanted. I saw a white and blue wrinkle appear in my minds eye, bright, and there
was my silent friend. What
should I do Gabriel?
My thumb shot up and my stomach felt like a cave of bats had suddenly been
disturbed. With a sour clench I closed my eyes, my face flushing hot. I looked over at
Timmy. He was slowing, considering whether or not to pull in behind
a truck in the right lane that was going no more than 20 miles per
hour.
“Timmy,
listen to me, I've decided to let you give me a blow job if you will
take me all the way to Spokane.” I spoke the words as evenly as
possible. The flirting was over. This was a business arrangement.
The thumb had gone up and it was time to travel into uncharted
territory.
After
being celibate for the past year, any sexual encounter would have
been a shock, but the idea of what was about to happen made my head
reel.
After losing my virginity two years earlier in two tragically short romps, I had only the experience of my first real girlfriend, a relationship that lasted nine months. Although I was 20 and she was 17, she
had far more experience than me in the bedroom, and when driving back
and forth from my house to Seattle she would indulge me with the much anticipated
“Road Head”. But this was completely different. Not only was I not driving, Timmy was not even
a girl, let alone my girlfriend. This was business, or so I tried to
tell myself.
Was my sense of foreboding was another mental hold up, a wall for Gabriel to crumble? The past six months had been an existential makeover. Throughout the joys, the highs, the lows, at the end of each bizarre lesson, if anything was clear, it was that my friend only meant to make me happy. I was the star of my own show, where before I had been an ant under a righteous judgmental God in the sky. Gabriel had shown me the only sins were doubt, worry, and fear. There was no hell, and to be shown this after fearing one for so many years lifted an enormous weight. I was free, well, as free as an Archangel's puppet anyway.
Timmy
shot me a look of pure intrigue and slowly his lips curled into a
joker card grin. He knew he had me by the balls.
“You
lemme suck it?” He asked, “Well lemme see
it.”
“First
I need to make sure you'll take me all the way," I said. Although
hardships were unavoidable, if placed along the line of my fate, I hoped a cold night on Snoqualmie Pass wasn't in my cards.
“Well
what if I no wanna suck it—I got see! I no wanna suck a pinky,”
he said, adopting my business tone, his voice still full of flowery lilt.
He
was gonna see it anyway, but it was strange, I didn't want him to see
me soft—a shyness I had never felt. Why did I give a fuck? What
the fuck is going on Gabriel?
I saw the blue and white twinkle. Will
you talk to me if I do this for you?
Although I didn't audibly hear an answer, Gabriel conveyed his
dismay and showed me a mirror. This was for me, a remaining hang up that needed to be faced.
I
unbuttoned my cargo shorts and reached my hand in my boxers.
“Hey
watch the road man,” I said. Timmy was only glancing up every
three seconds as he stared like a hungry dog at what I was doing. It
only took a few jerks and I was up and ready. I decided to poke up
through the hole in the boxers rather than lift down the elastic
waistband.
“Oh
my God," Timmy shouted, "that perfect
sucking size!” He was elated. “I thought you say small, but it bigger
mine... lemme pull over.” He could hardly stop staring as he
clicked on his blinker.
“No,
you're not gonna pull over,” I said. The plan flashed before me.
This was it! Thumbs
up, duh, have more faith Dipshit.
The voice of Gabriel made me smile, and a tear almost came
to my eye at the sound of the voice that had been absent for far to long. I
nodded watching the blue and white flash and then fade out. Game on!
“I'll
let you suck it, but there's going to be rules,” I said. The staccato clicks of the blinker punctuated the air, but I knew I had him.
The perfect sucking size? I suppose it was the greatest compliment I
could ever hope to receive for my member. I had all the leverage--pocket aces in this sordid game.
“You're
gonna suck it, but you're not going to pull over” I said, smiling. Bewildered, Timmy couldn't see it yet, but he clicked the blinker off. Instead of asking for extrapolation, he reached over to grab. I only slapped his hand away, but instead of
looking hurt, anger flashed in his eyes.
“You
better
lemme touch it now, how I gonna suck if I no can touch?” He reached
out another time defiantly. I let him touch. He grabbed hold. The moment his hand
made contact an unexpected surge of anger arose. The gnarling rage caught me off guard and I resisted the urge to snake bite his forearm. The wall is fighting back! Once again I saw the blue and
white, Gabriel was amused by my struggle. Okay,
this is not my ass, this is not his dick, this is my dick and a hand.
So what?
I tried to shut the bitter feeling down with logic, but it wasn't working. Just as I was about to punch his
arm away, the hilarity of what I was doing overtook me and a peel of laughter escaped my lips.
“What
so funny,” he said. The world tilted as a mushroom elation filled
me. Did you twist a neuron of serotonin Gabriel?
“Well
Timmy, I gotta say this is not how I thought my day would go,” I
said, grinning. The change in my tone unsettled Timmy a bit, and he looked at me cautiously, still gripping.
“Why
you looking me like that?” Timmy asked. Was it fear? His thumb continued to rub... to rub expertly.
“Okay,
stop for a minute, you're barely going 40 now, and you're gonna get
pulled over for going to slow,” I tried to block out the eroticism and dig into anything mundane.
Timmy
looked at his speedometer and sped up, but his hand seemed to have a
separate mind and the sensual massage remained focused.
“We
gotta pull over, I wanna suck now,” he said, giddy.
“No!
You keep driving, that's the deal, but if you don't like it, I can get out now.” I said,
and lifted his hand. He gripped on though—a very strange
sensation.
“Alright,
rub away, as long as you keep driving.” We were nearing the top of
the pass now and the first drops of rain began to splatter on the
windshield. The freeway was fairly steep and with the lower oxygen
content in the air, the Camry could hardly keep the speed limit, but
even at this pace we flew past the big trucks in the slow lane.
“Well
I no wanna just rub
it, you promise I can suck,” he rolled his eyes, the adolescent whine returning to his voice, “How I gonna
drive and
suck? I got pull over.”
“No,
is what you're going to do is lean over and suck, and I steer.”
His eyes widened.
“You
no can do it, is dangerous,”
he said shaking his head. He squeezed his hand as he
said the word 'dangerous' three times, emphasizing the syllables.
The sensation caused a thrill through my nervous system. Too
unfathomable to even contemplate—being manipulated in the small
hands of this man—I cleared my throat and slowly lifted his hand. He resisted at first, but then loosened his grip as I shot him a reproachful glance. You'll get it back in a minute. I saw the beast pace in his eyes.
“I'm
going to steer, and I'll tell you if you're going to slow or fast,”
I said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. There
was no doubt in my mind that this would be a story for the ages, and stories were the purpose of life: leave a story, but the next moment my
mind recoiled at the thought of his mouth, but even as the horror formed, I pondered his possible oral techniques.
He had swirled so expertly with his right
thumb under the head in a way that I could not do myself. My thumb
had always been on the top when masturbating, and although my girlfriend had used her mouth, a hand job was something I had only experienced solo.
A
tightening anxiety mixed with hatred began to form again, but I found I could now compartmentalize it and tried to see the humor. The blue and white shimmered
above. A wall to tear down. Let the trumpets of Joshua blow through
the mouth of Timmy, and this mental Jericho wall will collapse. What was it protecting anyway? Dignity? I saw it now. Rid myself of this silly and irrational fear,
the purpose of this drama was illuminated as I looked down upon the fear. Why was it there? What purpose did it serve? This wasn't my asshole being penetrated and Timmy was the most effeminate and nonthreatening—and
he was hungry—men
to experience this with. If anything, fate was kind. But all this rationality did not quell the rage; a ball in my chest began to tighten. The heterosexual wiring shorted, and with synaptic
flashes, a crease of worry formed on my forehead. Once again, panic made me consider my options. Looking at Timmy, I saw his eyes turn from
nervous and back to ravenous. Then slowly, he unzipped his brown plaid
shorts.
“See,
you bigger, but we both good suck size,” he said. He was proud and fully erect. I
shrugged processing too many emotions to conjure pride in this genetic endowment. Bigger than a 5'3" Filipino--oh joy.
“Barely,
but...” I began to say. He leaned over and I sharply inhaled and grabbed the wheel.
Pure panic and then... and then—I tried to focus on the road. The
swirling tongue and the...
“Stop!”
I yelled. His head jerked up, the back of it nearly butting my chin.
“What?”
he asked in a sharp, startled voice. He looked out the windshield to see if there was an animal up ahead or a traffic accident of some sort. “What? Was a cop?” he scanned the road behind in the rear view mirror.
“No,
but...” I didn't know how to finish. It was a primal cry of deep seated homophobia. I knew what I saw within was fear: the greatest sin and insult to fate. I felt an admonishing twinge as the blue and
white seemed disappointed. Sorry
Gabriel, but...
“No,
but um,” I stammered, “Let me just take a minute.” I looked at
the fear and saw my hands trembling. I started to laugh a little at
myself and at Timmy who still looked confused and somehow innocent.
Memories
flooded my mind. High school, the monastery, the mushrooms, and now
the mouth of this, this... man. A box of chocolates and this is what I get? I shook my head.
Well
Gabriel, this is some fucked up shit, but I get it... I just don't
know how I'm supposed to feel about the best blow job I've ever
had... from this guy.
Gabriel
didn't answer but I felt him look and nod as if to say, 'Then let's
getter done'.
“You
say you lemme suck, so you better lemme,” Timmy said. “I promise
I take you all the way to Spooken, and--”
“It's
Spokane, S-P-O-K-A-N-E, and it's like 250 miles from here, just to let you
know,” I said. “I can tell you have no idea what the fuck I'm
talking about”--I sounded more angry than I intended too--“So
before we go any further I just--”
“I
no care how far, but you say I can suck,” Timmy cut me off, “So
you lemme suck!” His own outrage at getting interrupted for the
non-emergency of my moral dilemma brought out a scolding tone. He didn't want to be conned, but was distance
not an issue?
“How
far will you take me Timmy, let's just get this straight right now,”
I asked.
“To
Spokane,”
he said, enunciating it slowly, the words dripping with sarcasm.
Each moment that passed made him resent me for denying him.
“Okay,
and you know that's about four hours from here and you can't stay
with me after that,” I said. “And," I added, "You'll buy me lunch at
Ellensburg which is right over the pass.” Despite my churning
stomach and current lack of appetite, the banana hadn't been nearly enough food for the day.
“Of
course I buy you lunch,” he said with a warm smile, “I buy you
anything you want
for lunch!” Voice of the proud provider. Somehow this humanized him, and I realized
that in a different setting, we might have even been friends. Well, maybe a different life.
“Timmy,
you may be one cock hungry fag, but damn you know how to give good
head,” I said with a chuckle. The compliment made him beam back at me with a grin. Pleased as punch.
“Thank
you Jasper, do you really think so?” he asked, fishing for more
praise.
“Yep,
but don't let it go to your head, I've only had one girlfriend
do it.” Little did I know, his would be the most technically sound fellatio of my life.
The
rain was now coming down hard in big drops on the windshield, the
wipers going full speed as I kept instructing Timmy to press down harder on the gas. I wished he had cruise control. Trying to focus on
the snow capped peeks in the distance, it was hard not to let the
pleasurable sensation overtake me. Even more difficult was suppressing the molten hot ball of anger that threatened to boil over in violence. My fists clenched I
mentally cussed and degraded Timmy, but the humor of it—and
overall his proficient talent made my mind flip end over end.
There
was an increase in noise at the top of the
pass as the sound of our hissing tires reverberated off the hillside
as the westward heading lanes were routed through an orange lit
tunnel in the hillside. Timmy looked up for a moment, but seeing no
danger he went back down. Every 15 seconds, or so, I would tell him
to accelerate, but on the empty road we were in no danger. In August we didn't have to worry about black ice at the 300 foot elevation. The road was now flat, and the 18 wheelers were passing us. Had any of them looked down? Would it look like no one was driving or would the blow job be all too apparent, and if so, were they joking about it on their C.B. radios? As for Timmy, his previous concerns over the danger were
completely overridden, and happier than a pig in shit, he was
voracious. Although he would twist and turn to apply professional pressure, not once did I feel the slightest nick of a tooth.
We
flew by Keechelus Lake and I gazed out on the cold waters and tried
to reach a sense of serenity and acceptance, but adrenaline coursed through my system in tumultuous heat. My blood was roiling white water, a volcanic geyser about to burst in a sulfuric steaming jettison. I tried to wonder about the stumps that protruded
from the shallow water at the eastern end of the lake, tried to think
of anything but... With a quickening of my heart and tension, I fell into another panic, and suddenly there was a familiar tightening in my lower abdomen.
“Timmy,
look out!” I said, and his head shot up to look out at the freeway.
A moment later I came, the semen jetting out into the cupped palm of my hand.
“What,
what is it?” he asked, seeing no apparent danger. I wiped my hand
on the seat belt. After a moment of confusion Timmy realized what had happened.
“Hey!”
he whined, “That's the best part.” And astonished, disgusted and
amused I watched him use his index and middle finger as a spoon to
scoop up and suck off what I had smeared on the seat belt. A sudden sense of betrayal--that's mine!--and then laughter. I laughed until tears formed in my eyes, until my sides ached and then I laughed some more.
