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A/N:Strae beta'd and prompted, show her some love!
WARNING: THIS STORY IS SLASH. THAT MEANS THERE ARE GAY SEXUAL RELATIONS. THAT MEANS EDWARD AND JASPER DO IT IN THE BUTT. K? Now don't say I didn't warn you first.
How to Turn a Straight Guy Gay
Part 1
It takes a great deal of savoir vivre to do what I do. It's not a sport that can be learned or a game that can be played, but an art that takes a certain finesse and understanding.
My name is Jasper Whitlock, and I teach straight boys the pleasure of cock.
I, as a gay man, have absolutely no interest in another gay man. That isn't to say I can't be attracted to a gay man, I have been before, but the moment I find out they are gay, or bi, or even curious, they immediately lose all appeal to me.
I want bona fide, cunt-loving straight boys. I settle for nothing less.
It makes life difficult, oh yes, but the results are... mind numbing, toe clenching, bone jarring, body aching... In the end, it is always worth it.
There was a time when gay men were good enough for me, that was before I met Peter. Peter changed my world around. When I met Peter, I was a freshmen in college and just learning the ways of the gay, freshly open and out myself, though I'd been sure of my sexuality and been with a man before I escaped to college. Peter was as straight as they came, straight as an arrow, straight laced, straight-up straight. He was tan and buff and hot, he oozed southern charm, he was smart, he was perfect.
I wanted him like you wouldn't fucking believe.
I spent a full year chasing Peter, gently easing him into a new way of thinking until finally he gave in and slept with me. That night changed both of our lives forever.
That night Peter learned how great cock can be and never looked back. That night I learned that it wasn't Peter I was after, it was his ass cherry.
One night of long, sweaty, passionate sex and we were both changed men.
And so that is when it all began. After Peter there was Garrett, after Garrett there was Benjamin, then Riley, then Charles, and so on. All straight boys who always enjoyed the cock once they finally gave into it. For five years I've been fucking straights boys, and they always, always enjoy it. Several gave up pussy completely after our time together, while others were very openly bi.
I don't really know what it is about a straight man that affects me so much, but it really does. Maybe it's the thrill of the chase, the fact that I'm not rightly supposed to have it, I don't know. But straights drive me crazy.
Sometimes it takes a week, sometimes a month, but in the end, it's always only the one night of sex and I move on. Some boys get clingy, but most of them are so fucking blissed out, they don't even care.
Peter took the longest, but to this day he is still, and he always will be, my greatest conquest. Of my victories, Peter is one of the few I keep in contact with. Despite living thousands of miles from each other, we remained friends.
I've been called sick and perverted and misogynistic, but I'm not a monster. I don't hurt my boys or force them. The sex, believe it or not, is always their idea. I plant the seed, so to speak, then watch as it grows, and when it's ripe for the taking, I have it.
Of all the boys I have had, there are plenty that I gave up on as well. The scared boys are always the worst. I leave the boys who are afraid, and perfectly happy with vagina, alone. It's not worth my time to teach them that the snake doesn't bite; they are usually scared for a reason anyway. It's just safer for both of us to leave each other alone.
Then there are the angry ones. Mean, gay hating, hypocritical assholes are a complete waste of time. When I was young and stupid—and horny—I didn't care how mean they were. I was inexperienced, and if I wanted them, I was convinced that was all that mattered. I learned the hard way to be choosy and that a hot body is not worth an abysmal mind.
A guy named Paul and his little pack of misfits put me in the hospital for getting a little touchy-feely. I stopped trying to fuck the callous right there and then, the women can keep those self-righteous pricks for themselves.
I don't try to embolden the fearful with sex and I don't try to tame the beasts with my magic stick. I learned to keep my boys kind and honest. That's not to say I don't enjoy a little spirit, but cruelty is not something I stand for. Kindhearted, smart, and ruggedly handsome is my type. I love a boy that's rough around the edges, maybe a little naïve, definitely a lot sporty and casual.
I'm at my usual spot, scouting out the crowd. The first step to turning a boy gay is to find the perfect boy, then you mark him.
Choosing for me is always difficult. I'm picky as hell. I swear, the more time that passes the more curious the boys get. I stay out of the gay bars in hopes of avoiding flaming Phillips and curious Georges. But the men-hungry ones seem to be drawn to me like I'm their magnetic field. I am pretty hot...
Rogue's Rock House on the edge of Seattle seems to usually tend to my needs well. Some of the hottest men I'd ever seen frequented the rock bar and very few gay men filtered in.
I nod cordially to the bartender and lean back against the counter to scan the heavy crowd. There's a lot of women out tonight. I usually come to Rogue's because of the heavy male population, but tonight the boys are scarce.
I sigh, swigging on my Heineken as I try to scope out someone suitable.
"Hey sexy," says a deep smooth voice. I mentally roll my eyes and groan inwardly. Of course, despite the depleted number of cock to cunt ratio, there would be a gay guy here to hit on me.
"Not interested," I pipe back coolly.
A large hand grips my wrist lightly and places my palm against the front of his jeans, right over his cock. Okay, so it's big, and probably pretty good, but I've had bigger.
"Now are you interested?"
I roll my head towards the ass-muncher who can't take a hint and groan, snapping my hand away from his dick. "Fucking Christ, Emmett, would you give it up already?"
Emmett laughs because he realizes that I had no idea it was him as I hadn't been looking. "Sweetie, it's you who needs to give it up," Emmett says back, sidling up beside me and trying to be covert as he makes a grab for my ass.
I sigh and sit down at an empty barstool because I know smacking Emmett around is only going to make him more feisty. He's a relentless oaf and his eyes have been locked on my balls since the first time we met, three years ago. He has it bad, but I kind of love him a little bit for it.
"Sweetie," I say back mockingly, "I'm hunting for virgin ass, so go away. You'll blow my—"
"I would blow you, if you let me," Emmett interrupts, giving me a saucy wink.
"Seriously," I deadpan, not asking if he is serious, because I know he is, but warning him to cool the fuck down. He will blow my cover. He's huge and... flamboyant, really hard to miss.
I'm on a bit of a dry spell after my last boy got super clingy and started stalking me. I apparently didn't do very good research. Emmett's offer for a free BJ are looking a bit too good at the moment.
I grow hopeful when fresh meat enters and it sounds like college boys. They cause a raucous and I'm immediately craning my neck to see them because I am admittedly getting a bit desperate. I sit back down in my seat with a defeated humph when I realize they all seem to have a bad case of emo going on. They are all pasty white and morbid looking. I'm not interested at all, though they seem to have caught the attention of the group of goth girls in the corner. At least someone is going to potentially get some.
"So, I have a proposition for you."
"I'm not interested, Emmett," I say, a lot irritably.
"Just listen, I swear it doesn't involve my cock, though you are missing out on my cock, Jazzy. It's very, very nice. Much better than those little virgin twinks you drool all over."
"Emmett, I don't have the time or patience," I warn.
He gives me flirtatious smile and moves closer. "You know how I love it when you get angry," he purrs. Yes, he is so gay that he fucking purrs.
"Fine, just fucking tell me already," I groan, rubbing my temples.
"So there's this guy..." he trails off and I shoot him a disbelieving look. He knows I don't do gay men, which can only mean… "A straight guy."
My ears perk up and I scoot closer to him. "I'm listening."
"He's fucking amazing, Jazz, like unghhh," he moans. His eyes dart to me and he adds seriously, "He's hotter than you, and you know how I feel about you."
He gives my thigh a squeeze while I'm a bit distracted, about two fucking inches from my cock and I want to smack him, but I know he'll like that, so instead I just ignore him. His hand doesn't leave my thigh as he rambles off this story about some guy he went to high school with. I don't listen very closely until he starts describing him to me.
"His mouth was fucking designed to suck cock, Jazz. His lips are so fucking hot. And his jaw, oh my fuck, it is huge and amazing." Emmett is leaning closer and I can feel his breath, but I'm too intrigued by this guy he describes to give a fuck. "His ass is firm and tight as fuck, it's edible. He's straight and so not interested. You'll fucking love him." He's rubbing my dick through my pants now and I get hard even though it's Emmett, and Emmett doesn't do that for me, at all. Yet, he's rubbing me and describing this sexy motherfucker and I spot my very own sexy motherfucker across the room.
I cut Emmett off with a, "Got to go."
So with a woody, I chug the rest of my Heineken and leave Emmett there smirking to go get a closer look at the eye candy I've spotted. The closer I get, the more I realize that he's fucking perfect.
His hair is wild and bronze and all over the fucking place and I want to grab it and fuck his perfect mouth. His lips are pouty and red, his teeth look white and straight as he chews his lip while staring at something. His thick, hard jaw is shadowed with scruff and I know that he's as much the cause for my boner as Emmett's skilled ball fondling was. I try to nonchalantly re-shift my erection into a more comfortable position as I make my way towards the fuckhot piece of ass sitting by himself.
His eyes are green and vibrant, yet fierce in a disturbing way as they meet mine. I nod towards the empty seat at his table and ask him if I may sit. He nods once and looks away from me.
Neither of us speak for about five minutes and I find myself growing restless. I really wish I had brought my drink with me instead of chugging it or got a new one so I could occupy myself with something while he just sits there.
The man doesn't pay me any mind as he rolls his neck from side to side, popping loose another button on his crisp white shirt. I think it looks like he may have been wearing a full suit at one point, but now he's only in the dress pants and the white button down. I imagine there was a tie at one point by the way his collar is laying and I wish he would have left the tie on loosely so I can imagine guiding him to my cock with it a bit better.
He continues to ignore me as a waitress steps up to him and offers him a drink that I assume he must have ordered at one point. When she turns to leave he lightly grasps her thigh to stop her and throws back his entire drink in one go. She gives him a bit of a dirty look for grabbing her but he just smirks and her face instantly turns into one of those stupid female 'I'm-wetting-myself-for-you' faces. I scoff at the woman, but get harder for the man, because he's obviously into the pussy and I fucking love that. Plus, he's just the hottest motherfucker I've ever seen. Ever.
"Long day?" I inquire after the slutty waitress leaves.
He hums an affirmative and doesn't look at me at all. His body turns slightly so he can see the live band better and I find I can see down his shirt a little bit as he leans onto the table. The wife beater he has on underneath is hugging his chest which looks strong and well muscled, even though he looks kind of slight from afar. I'm willing to bet he's definitely not little—hopefully that pertains to all of him.
"Would you like a drink?" I ask.
He doesn't look at me to snark out a sharp, "That's what waitresses are for."
Christ, he's either in a bad mood or he's an asshole. I snark back. "No shit? I thought they were just here for you to grope."
He is obviously angry as he turns to glare at me. Fuck me sideways, he looks even hotter when he's pissed. "Okay, listen here Jazz, I'm not fucking interested so go away."
I'm taken aback and I hesitate slightly. I want to ask him what the fuck he's talking about but instead I ask, "How the fuck do you know my..." I trail off realizing I don't let anyone call me 'Jazz' but one person does anyway. "What the fuck did Emmett say to you?" I growl.
"Enough," the guy answers simply.
I quickly scan the crowd and it's not hard to spot Emmett. He's like an elephant amongst a herd of gazelles; they move gracefully while he tromps along, plus he's huge. Emmett is staring at us, grinning like the fucking Cheshire cat or the one who ate the fucking canary or whatever. He looks way too fucking proud of himself. I swear to God, I'll kill him if he ruined this for me.
"I want to fucking know what he told you," I say roughly, turning to look back at the hot motherfucker who's name I don't know.
He sighs and rolls his eyes dramatically then pulls one long fingered hand through his wild hair, and I figure that's why it's standing on end so badly, it must be his habit. It's pretty hot. "He didn't tell me anything really. I know he's... g-gay," he stutters out, looking uncomfortable using it, like maybe it's the N-word and taboo. "He like, had a thing for me in high school and I saw him rubbing your dick, so I figured you must be the Jazz dude he said was 'super hot'." He uses air-quotes and I almost laugh. "So, yeah, I'm not interested," he concludes.
"In what?" I ask honestly. I don't really have a clue what he's talking about, but I have deduced that Emmett was totally fucking setting me up by telling me about him then basically aiming me right for him. Bastard has some ulterior motive and I sure as hell am not going to sit here and take his bullshit.
"Whatever you and your boyfriend have planned. I don't do guys. Ever, at all."
"Emmett is not my boyfriend, nor has he ever been, nor will he ever be," I say, really sharply and probably a bit loudly. I might be hoping that Emmett can hear me. "I don't do gay guys. Ever, at all," I say, mocking him a little bit. I don't make it a point to say that I am actually gay though.
He finally seems to really look at me then. I kind of want to say he's checking me out, but he is probably just sizing me up, as competition for poon or something. "Oh, sorry," he says lackadaisically. I know he isn't really sorry. He shrugs one shoulder up then lets it drop. "Just assumed since he was all up on your privateers."
"Will you excuse me a moment, I need to go kick Emmett's ass. While I'm up, do you want a drink?" I ask.
"Sure. Whatever you're getting, as long as it's not fruity or something."
I laugh, mostly because I think he actually is an asshole. He doesn't seem to hate gays and he doesn't seem afraid of the thought, but I really fucking like that he's being cocky and a prick. It's fucking hot.
With a look that I hope is threatening, I make my way back to Emmett who just looks really fucking excited. I want to kick in his teeth, which is absolutely nothing he should be getting a boner about.
"I'm going to kill you if you fucked this up for me," I growl menacingly, or at least I think I sound menacing because I know I'm completely serious.
Emmett just gives me his best bedroom eyes. "God, you look so fucking hot right now."
I slam my fist down on the bar and he quivers, though I highly doubt it's out of fear. "You listen to me, Emmett, I will never be with you, ever, so whatever bullshit scheme you have all planned out, forget about it. I won't be a part of it, I want nothing from you."
Emmett looks smug and horny, the two feelings I had tried to eradicate. "Oh, Jasper, I do have something you want."
He continues to smirk and reaches into his pocket, I look away, assuming he's going to cup his balls or something. I call to the bartender and order two beers so I can get away from stupid Emmett and back to the man I actually find attractive as soon as possible.
I hear something beeping and my attention is drawn back to Emmett who is messing around with his phone. I ignore him, thankful his mind doesn't seem focused on me for once. I'd like to keep it that way. Suddenly his phone is being shoved in my face and I unconsciously go cross eyed from him holding the fucking screen so close.
"Who does that look like to you, sexy?" he asks excitedly.
I try to blink to focus my eyes but it doesn't work. I grab his wrist and shove his hand back so I can actually see what he's talking about. I gasp because his finger slips and not only do I see the really fucking hot guy's face, but also what looks to be the head of his penis. Emmett quickly pulls his phone back and stuffs it down the front of his pants. He's not completely stupid, it would seem, he apparently knows I won't be digging in there, even for a picture of the hottie and his seemingly really hot cock.
"What the fuck was that?" I ask.
"I think you got a better gist of what that was than I expected to give you."
"How do you have a picture of his fucking cock?" I demand. Mostly I'm really jealous, but I'm also terrified that I'm going to lose this really hot piece of ass for being already gay curious, or worse, a full-fledged cock lover.
"So you know how I started to tell you about going to high school with him?" Emmett asks, leaning in towards me.
I take a step away, not interested in being within grabbing distance of him again. I nod, though I actually didn't listen at all to a word he'd said before.
"Well, he was dating this girl. She was a complete hornball. I think her name was Bella, yeah, Bella. So Bella was a hornball and she convinced him to take pictures of himself masturbating and send them to her. After she let it slip one night when she was wasted that she had nudey pics of him on her phone, I stole the fucker and sent them to myself. I have the whole set."
I groan, really fucking loudly. He has jerk off pictures of that hot piece of ass… Oh my fuck.
Emmett nodded. "I know, Jazz, I know. Those pictures alone have been more beneficial to me than any other spank-bank material ever."
"What the fuck do you want?" I ask him, because I'm really starting to get nervous now. Is he going to blackmail me or Hottie McHotpants?
"Honestly Jazz, nothing. I just wanted to fuck with you a little. Here are your drinks," he says, handing me my two beers. "Go get him, tiger."
I stare blankly at him as he shoves me away, drinks in hand. He's lying, he has to be.
I try to push it from my mind as I make my way back to the man's table. Shit, I don't know his name yet, I should have asked Emmett.
Offering him his beer, I say, "Hey, so my name is Jasper. Never call me 'Jazz' or 'Jazzy' or anything else that relates to jazz."
He nods. "Nice to meet you, Jasper. How did Emmett take the news?"
"That he won't be fucking either of us?" I ask. Admittedly, I just do it to make sure he has the appropriate reaction. I'm not disappointed, he cringes and looks like he might gag. He nods again to answer my question. "He's a bit upset, but I'm sure he'll get over it."
"He's still staring over here," he says.
I take a draw from my bottle and swish it around while I look over my shoulder to see Emmett staring. Yes, that fucker definitely has a plan. "He's a bit obsessed with me," I admit. "It's really quite sad and pathetic. What's your name?" I ask. It's a bad transition, but I'm curious and I don't usually beat around the bush.
"Edward."
Edward. Huh, kind of fitting. 'Edward' sounds kind of manly, rugged. I could definitely see myself moaning the name Edward at the top of my lungs until my throat was raw. Hmm.
"Nice to meet you, Edward," I say, offering him my hand over the table.
He's staring at me dubiously. He offers his own hand slowly and grips mine firmly, shaking once then pulling me closer to him over the table.
I get an instant erection from his bold move, though it's really stupid because I know it's entirely too soon for a straight boy to be making advances. It's still hot.
He doesn't kiss me, or lick my neck, or even touch my hair, but he steals my bottle of beer and gives me his own.
"I don't trust you, Jasper," he says.
I quirk an eyebrow and try to calm my breathing. "You shouldn't," I admit. I take a deep swallow out of the bottle he has traded me and he does the same.
I am a bit transfixed by the way his Adam's apple bobs when he swallows. I continue to stare as his jaw unhinges and he speaks. I love the way his neck flexes; I can imagine myself licking, sucking, and biting the corded tendons as he arches his head back whilst we make love.
I attempted to make conversation with Edward for a hour or more, but he really wasn't the most receptive. Well, he might have been a bit more talkative, but about every five minutes a skank would come along and interrupt us. He didn't give a shit, obviously, because half of them were drunk off their asses and willingly grinding up on his business while he just sat there. I really fucking gave a shit though. Bitches are rude, can't they see I'm working?
I started to just ignore them and talked while they grinded, but they would get all needy and whine something about taking them home. Edward had the same excuse every time.
"Sorry, I have to work in the morning."
I admittedly was a bit irritated when he used the same excuse on me. "Oh yeah, where do you work, hotshot?" I ask, quirking a brow.
"Promise not to fall all over me when I tell you?" he replies with a smirk. He's flirting, definitely flirting.
"No promises, I might not be able to control myself if you're rich," I say jokingly, mostly, maybe flirting back just a little.
"I probably shouldn't tell you then."
I start to laugh, but he looks completely serious. "So, who are you, like Patrick Dempsey's body double?"
He smirks and rubs his chest. "I am. How did you guess? This smoking body totally gave me away again, didn't it?"
I really want to jump onto the table and start licking his neck, as I tell him that yes, it definitely was the smoking body of his that gave him away. Christ, he is fucking hot.
Edward reaches into his back pocket and I admire the way his body is arched. "Here," he says finally, handing me a card that he practically dug out of his ass. I am smart enough not to rub it against my face and caress it softly, in public.
I scan the card, then my mouth probably drops open in shock because I hear him chuckle. I recognize the name of one of Seattle's most prominent law firms and my first instinct is to not believe him.
"Bullshit," I say, shaking my head.
He smirks even more cockily than normal. "Call the cell number," he urges.
I pull out my cell phone and watch him carefully. He continues to smirk. I dial the cell number that is listed on the card. Again, he simply continues to sit there smirking. I press send and put the phone up to my ear. The call connects and rings into my ear. He pulls out a cell phone and answers, staring directly into my eyes.
"Edward Cullen, attorney at law, how can I be of service to you?" I hear, both in person and through the phone.
Holy. Fuck. I'm pretty sure that I cum in my jeans, at least a little bit. He can be of service to me in so many ways.
It's definitely official. He is my new boy. I'm without a doubt getting into his pants as soon as possible.
I attempt to roll my tongue back into my mouth. I'm not sure that I'm capable of being nonchalant at the moment, but I try anyway. I shrug and say, "Nice. Are you even old enough to be an 'attorney at law'?"
He glares, though he doesn't necessarily look seriously angry. "I'm still in school, so no. But it's my father's firm and I intern there."
"Oh, so you're Carlisle's son, right?"
His brow crinkles as he stares at me disbelievingly. "You really haven't heard of me, have you?"
"No, not really," I say honestly. "I've seen Carlisle on the television commercials for the firm, but, no, I've never heard of you."
He shakes his head at me. "Dude, I'm hurt, deeply." He grabs his beer and chugs the remnants down. "Well, hey, I gotta head out, so if you promise not to look me up on the internet, I might tell you the real story sometime."
Is that a date offer, Mr. Cullen? "Well, hey now, hold on a second, I'm curious about something." He waits with a look of bored interest. "What did you come here for? You've been shooing the ladies away like flies and are leaving alone." I'm honestly curious.
"I didn't come here to get my rocks off, man. I'm here for the good music and the free alcohol." He smirks at me. "The free alcohol usually comes from the chicks that I don't take home. I'm not gonna lie, you may have been slightly more entertaining, though greatly less attractive."
I don't have to pretend to be offended. I am offended. "Asshole!"
He puts his hands up defensively. "Hey, I told you, I don't do dudes, so what did you expect?" He quirks an eyebrow questioningly. That definitely wasn't just a rhetorical question, unfortunately. Maybe his gaydar is picking up on my cock loving tendencies.
I play with my hair and jut my chest out. "It's just really rude to call someone who's obviously hot unattractive, you know?" I say. I get the desired reaction when he laughs and his question is deflected, he is really not ready to hear what I expect yet. "So, are you married then?" I ask. There isn't a ring in sight, but I ask anyway.
"No, I'm not married. Gotta go, Jasper. I'll see you around."
I watch his ass as he walks away and yell above the music, "You're paying next time, and you're telling me your 'real story'."
I can see his shoulders shaking with laughter as he flips me the bird without looking back, his head shakes from side to side and I find myself grinning in response.
I'm so going to lay him and he doesn't even know it.
As soon as Edward is gone, Emmett invites himself to my table, plopping his ass in Edward's chair with a sigh. I immediately stand to leave, but I have to walk past him and because he's enormous, he's stronger than me. He pulls me down into his lap. I start punching him in the ribs to make him let go.
"Guess you don't want to see those pictures then, huh?" he says hurriedly as he tries to block my blows.
I freeze. Yeah, he is going to fucking hold those bad boys over my head until he gets what he wants. "What do you want?" I ask.
"How did it go, Jazz? Do you think he's going to succumb to your gay little ways?"
"Yes, actually I'm supposed to be following him now," I say. "He invited me into his ass den the minute I told him my dick is twelve-point-four-seven inches in diameter."
"Edward drives an Aston," Emmett says, like it's the most fucking normal thing to say after I told him my cock was astronomically huge.
"Let me the fuck go, Emmett. Right now, or I'll yell for security and get your ass thrown out of here," I threaten.
Emmett sighs. "Fine, Jazz, be that way, but just so you know, if you start to play nice with me, I'll give you Edward's pictures."
"I'm not playing anything with you, Emmett. I'll see his dick for myself and it'll be my hand wrapped around him jerking him off. The reality is much better than the imaginary, but you wouldn't know since you're too busy chasing things you can't have."
Emmett laughs. "That's a bit hypocritical coming from you, don't you think, Jasper?"
I pat Emmett on the cheek, then break his hold on me to stand up. "No, I'll get what I want."
Emmett smiles and says, "So will I."
– – –
After leaving the club, I am left to contemplate how to go about getting rid of Emmett without compromising my situation with Edward. It's too late to pretend I'm not interested in Edward, because Emmett won't fall for that. There is also the niggling little detail that I hate losing. Giving up Edward would be like losing, to Emmett of all people. I couldn't fucking lose to Emmett, I especially could not lose Edward to Emmett. Edward had the potential to become my greatest lay ever.
Once I arrive home, I immediately strip off my clothes and put them in the wash machine. I brush my teeth quickly, then jump into the shower. I hate the smell of stale smoke and taste of old beer on my tongue.
Under the warm spray of water, I get hard thinking about Edward. I soap up my hands and jerk off imagining fucking Edward's mouth. He's got an amazing mouth, I definitely want to get my dick in it, maybe even more than I want to get it into his tight ass. I stroke myself in time with fantasy Edward's fast moving mouth. The water pounds soothingly against my neck and back and I cum fast. I imagine pulling almost completely out of Edward's mouth and watching myself cum on his tongue and it makes my toes curl.
Satisfied for the time being, I finish showering and dry off in the bathroom. I keep my house set at a decent temperature and my blinds closed up for a reason, and tonight is like any other night. I roam my house naked, as I prefer to do, and munch on an apple as I try to talk myself into going to bed. It's late and I should go to sleep, but I can't get my mind off of Edward and I know if I go to bed, I'll probably just end up jerking off again, and possibly again, and then again if I'm still not asleep. I'm prone to binge-jerking when bored and horny, as most men are, but with the possibility of getting my dick played with by Edward himself, I really don't want to make it sore by overdoing it. And by overdoing it, I mean jacking off repeatedly, which I will do because Edward is fucking hot, and now I'm hard again.
Biting off the last chunk of my apple, I toss it in the trash then make my way back to my entry hall where my washer and dryer is. I switch the washed clothes into the dryer, and when I'm reaching for a lone sock that's at the far bottom of the washer, my hot, painfully hard cock rubs against the cold, unforgiving hard metal wash machine. I gasp and pull away, then push against it again, because I kind of like the painful, yet pleasurable feeling.
My phone beeps and Emmett's name shows up on the screen, flashing that I have '1 New Text'. I almost expect it to say 'I see you fucking your wash machine, Jazzy' but it doesn't. I stop fucking my wash machine though because who does that? It's creepy. Fucking Emmett would be better than fucking a wash machine.
I shudder at the thought and take it back. Fucking a washer is definitely better than ever putting my dick anywhere near Emmett. I grab my discarded phone, wallet, and Edward's card and go to my couch, where I lay on my erection to hopefully squish it to death. I make myself promise not to hump the couch because the leather will cause some serious chafing and I really want my dick un-chafed for Edward.
I read Emmett's text, which is just the number eight, some equal signs, a capital 'D', and some squiggly lines, arranged in that order to make a text penis that is jizzing. I delete the message and set my phone down, but as soon as I do, it lights up again with another text from Emmett.
Edward's pictures still get the job done.
I groan and delete the message. I'm incredibly jealous that Emmett has pictures of Edward jerking his cock. Emmett of course knows this and will taunt me mercilessly until I give into whatever it is that he wants. Right now, I'm thinking that he wants me to sleep with him, and right now, the prospect of sleeping with someone isn't looking so bad.
The problem is not that Emmett is unattractive, he's actually very good-looking, and I was actually attracted to him at one point. The problem is that he's gay. Like, life partner gay. He wants to make me his mate, or something like that, and it's such a huge turn off for me. Were he not so blatantly obvious and flamboyantly homo, I could probably actually just get it over with and do him, but he just... wants it too much. Maybe one day he'll learn to tone it done and pretend that he's the one out of my league, and maybe I'll be horny enough to fuck him, but for now, no amount of horniness, or number of sexy pictures, would get him into my pants. I could wait to see Edward's cock.
I grab Edward's card and study it for a while. The card is boring, to say the least. It's white and crisp and uptight, and I wonder if Edward is much like this card. I don't think he is. I think he's probably well-rounded, considering he's a lawyer, but I think there is another side to him. There is a website listed on the card, so I set the card down and grab my laptop.
I know I kind of, not really, promised I wouldn't look him up on the internet, but I'm curious. On the website, there is a picture with some people I do not recognize, and two that I do. Carlisle I recognize from commercials and ads and Edward I definitely know. A group of men and women are standing on a stone staircase in front of a huge building with glass windows, dressed in expensive looking suits. Edward looks very serious, and very sexy, surrounded by the mostly older crowd.
I click on a link that says 'The Cullens' and it brings me to a page with a picture of three men and two women. Under the picture it says, 'Ed Cullen, Irina Cullen, Carlisle Cullen, Esme Cullen, and Edward Cullen'.
Edward is noticeably related to the men, though I can't find a single likeliness between him and any of the women. I assume the picture holds three generations of Cullens: Ed, the grandfather; Carlisle, the father; and Edward, the son. I assume 'Esme' is probably Edward's mother, but there is no resemblance at all. Carlisle looks like Irina—who is obviously his mother—with his blonde hair and blue eyes, but his face and body appear very similar to Edward's. I have no idea where Edward's bronze hair and green eyes came from. A family throw back, maybe.
Or a scandal. Perhaps that is why he didn't want me searching the internet for him. Edward Cullen, attorney at law, and illegitimate son? Yeah, I definitely smelled a scandal.
Bored, and still not tired—and desperately wanting to feel someone's mouth on my cock—I grab my handy sketch pad and a discarded pencil. I quickly sketch Carlisle and Ed's profiles onto the paper, then I rigorously render Edward's profile on the page. Every last detail of his face is transferred onto the paper. His jaw and eyes are difficult to replicate, but I do my best off of memory and the pictures still up on my laptop. I save his lips for last, knowing I won't be able to resist imaging them doing delightful things to me again. I'm not wrong; as soon as I start shaping them, I grow hard again. I spend a long time filling in the details—the fullness, the shape, the shadows, the creases. It all has to be just right. My dick starts to ache from being hard so long with the weight of my body pressing it into the couch, so I put my book aside and roll over.
I don't have any lube nearby so I spit on my hand and start stroking myself slowly.
I want to know what Edward tastes like. His mouth and his neck and his nipples and his fingers, I want to lick them, I want to lick all of him. I want to kiss his chest and stomach, to dip my tongue into his bellybutton, to tease the sensitive skin near his hips with my tongue and to just taste him. I want to feel his cock in my mouth, to taste him on the back of my tongue and in my throat. I want to tease the slit of his cock with the tip of my tongue to press my lips against his balls while he's deep in my throat. I want to taste his cum in my mouth, to feel him cumming in my mouth.
I groan and slide my hand along my shaft more quickly as I imagine what he'd feel like cumming against my tongue.
I want to feel his hands in my hair as he fucks my mouth. I want to feel the pressure of the head of his cock pressing into my throat, to hear him grunt my name as he nears climax and watches his cock fucking my mouth. I want to see him jump and hear him hiss when I press my fingers between his ass cheeks. I want to see him throw his head back when he can't take it anymore. I want to hear him coming undone, to know that he wants it as I tease his ass, to see the way he looks at me when he realizes how good it feels.
I want to be the one who changes him, I want so badly to teach him how much he is missing. I want him to want my cock and I want him to want to give me his cock. I just fucking want him.
I feel myself getting close and I throw my head back against the sofa, closing my eyes to imagine him better as I focus on the head of my cock, knowing it'll get me off. I imagine him going down on me again, the unsure and shy look he'll give me as he licks my head for the first time.
I twist my hand over the top of my cock, gathering the moisture there and spread it around my head. I can feel my thighs starting to tense and my neck arches back as I groan. I think about Edward looking up at me as he takes me into his mouth, his hair falling into his eyes as he sucks and licks at my head. My hips start to buck against my hand and I feel the indicative tightening in my stomach and testicles.
I slow my movements as my climax builds, drawing it out and edging for as long as I can take it. My thighs quiver and I hear myself whimper unintentionally as the pleasure becomes nearly painful from the prolongment. Finally, I can't take it anymore and I fist the head of my cock. My hips press up hard with quick, jerky thrusts, fucking my hand as I grunt and groan through the pleasure.
I cum hard—much harder than normal for a self-induced orgasm, but Edward already seems capable of bringing me so much pleasure. I can feel my cum on my stomach and my hand, but I don't care, I ignore it and close my eyes. The euphoria of the orgasm keeps my body tingling and my mind numb while I try to catch my breath.
Post climatic, I want to call Edward, but logically I know I can't do that. One of the most important steps to the process is to always be on your game. Calling him immediately after an orgasm because I want to hear his voice before he has any idea what is going on is about as far from 'on my game' as I can get.
But still, I pick up my phone and program his name and number in, saving it into my contacts for easy access for anytime I may need it.
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