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Colin tries to let the fact that he just got his first blowjob sink in. He decides to go with the flow in the worst way possible, and gets an unintentional lesson as a result.

What do you say to someone who'd just sucked your dick?

Apparently . . . nothing. I was still basking in the afterglow of the best orgasm that I'd ever had and it was all that I could do to look Michael in the eye. He had this expression that could be best described as amusement. I was returning his look with what could be best described as an awkward stare. I was lost for words, and the silence made every passing second unbearable.

He sat beside me on the bed. It seemed like he was patiently waiting for me to regain my ability to speak, as if it was a form of courtesy that you extend to people who've just had their first experience with fellatio. It's not that I couldn't speak—it's just that I didn't know what to say. Michael was being too kind and too obsequious. I felt like I was being patronized, and I hated it. I hated not knowing what to do or what to say. I hated not knowing what to feel. I hated having my expectations about people proven wrong. I hated not being in control.

It was time that I fixed it.

"Michael, thank you. That was totally awesome."

"Hey, I'm glad you liked it. So now—Colin? What are you . . . ?"

"Shhh. I know what to do."

Maybe he got startled when he saw the look in my eye. I wasn't sure—I wasn't in front of my mirror anymore. This was really me, and what I really was startled Michael. Was that a good sign? Maybe. But I know that he wanted this. He had to want this—it only made sense. I knew it made sense. I knew what I was supposed to do . . . so I grabbed the front of his shorts and began groping him.

"Colin, what—?"

"Shhh."

Michael grabbed my arm to stop me from rubbing his dick, but I kept on going. I shifted my weight so that he was now lying on the bed with me on top of him, all the while keeping my hand on his crotch. My head leaned down onto his chest, where I could faintly hear his heartbeat getting faster.

I knew that any further resistance on his part would be futile. He was already hard. I took that as an invitation as I slid my hand inside his shorts and undies in one fluid motion and grabbed his thick, engorged dick. I could feel every ridge and every surface of his dick in my hand. I began jerking him off despite the fact that our current position on the bed made it quite awkward to do. He was squirming, but because I was on top of him, my weight kept him pinned firmly in place. This was my first time holding another boy's dick, and I was damned well determined to do it right.

Everything felt hot. The air was hot, my breath was hot, and Michael's dick was hot in my hand. I looked at him, fully expecting to see his intense approval, even encouragement. But instead I saw something else.

"Colin?"

"You want this, don't you?" It wasn't really a question. It was me telling him what I knew to be true. He looked unsure, so I did what my mind automatically told me to do.

I put my face on top of his and leaned in for a kiss.

"Stop it, Colin!"

When Michael said 'stop', time froze for me. My hand stopped moving in his shorts, and my lungs stopped working. Even my heart kept still. I was petrified—a stone statue. Michael eased himself off of me and sat cross-legged on one end of the bed. I didn't know what had just happened. All I knew was that he was staring down at my bed, the bulge in his shorts was mysteriously absent, and I was left looking at him with what I imagined were exaggerated question marks in my eyes where the pupils used to be.

When Michael finally looked me in the eye again, he didn't have a smile on his face. It occurred to me just then that this was the first time I'd seen him that day without his smile. He looked pensive— serious, even. Seeing him like that annoyed me—more than annoyed. I can't think of the word right now. But I let him know exactly how incredulous I was feeling.

"I don't understand you!" I blurted in frustration, slightly louder than I'd intended.

"I didn't think there was anything to understand in the first place . . ." he replied, somehow sounding more sad than anything else.

"What do you mean? This—everything that we just did—I had it all figured out! You were supposed to like it! But you don't . . . and I don't get it."

"Colin, you're not making sense."

"You sucked my dick! And I liked it! You're gay, and now, I'm gay too. I'm just running with it! This is what we're supposed to do next! You're supposed to like it—I already planned this out!"

"I never said I was gay, and neither did you," Michael replied calmly.

"You don't have to say it, do you?" I retorted not as calmly. "You sucked my dick! We're gay—both of us! That's what gay boys do, and that's what we were doing! Did I do it wrong? Isn't this what we're supposed to do?"

"I don't think I'm gay, Colin. At least I know I don't want to do those other things with you. I don't know about you, though."

"I don't get it—I don't get you!" This time, I know I was shouting.

Michael crawled over next to me, his face slowly coming closer to mine. I thought that we were finally seeing eye-to-eye—he looked like he was leaning in for a kiss. But then, a sudden sharp pain exploded from my left cheek. Clearly I was wrong, and that realization left me figuratively and literally staggered.

The bastard had just slapped me. Hard. Our basketball training had really done wonders for his strength, it seems.

"Owww! What the hell was that for?"

"You were sounding hysterical."

"Slapping is gay, though."

"Would you like it more if I punched your face?" Michael's face had a mischievous grin now. Somehow, it calmed me.

"No, I suppose not. I'm sorry. I just . . . I don't . . . I thought . . . "

"You're messed up, Colin." Michael was shaking his head as he said it.

"I guess so. Can I still fix this?"

"Depends on what you want."

"I don't know what I want," I groaned.

"Well . . . we could talk. That's a start, yeah?"

"Yeah . . . "

He sat beside me once more, and I felt a sigh escaping my lips. I was staring at my knees. Silence once again permeated the air, but somehow, it felt less oppressive this time—not as awkward as before.

"So you're not gay?" I began.

"No, I don't think I am."

"Then how do you even know how to suck dick?"

"Dennis," Michael said simply. He was staring at some point in front of him—just the wall, actually—as if remembering a fond memory. "He was my best bud last year and he'd admitted to me that he was gay. That kind of trust—the kind of guts that it takes to admit that to anyone—was something that I respected and appreciated. I was one of the few friends he had in class. It just happened one time at his place. It meant a lot to him, so I let him. That's how I learned."

"But how can you give a blowjob to a guy without being gay?" I asked with a tone of confusion. "I really don't get it."

"For someone who's so smart, you can be so dense sometimes, y'know?"

"You're not the first one to say it," I replied. I felt really stupid admitting it. Did Anthony ever have to admit that sometimes he didn't know everything?

"Giving a blowjob doesn't make you gay. It's being gay that makes you gay."

"I still don't get it."

"How you live your life doesn't depend on just one single thing you did," Michael began. "People who admit that they're gay just live their lives the way that they think they should as gay people.

"You liked getting blown. No big deal—everyone does. Liking it doesn't make you gay. Getting it from a guy doesn't make you gay. Even giving it isn't really gay. There's way more things to being gay and just doing and liking one of those things doesn't automatically change what you like when it comes to everything else. I sucked you off, but that doesn't mean I want to do all those other things with you, dude. If I say no, that's no. I don't have to be gay to know what I do and don't like.

"If you think you should be gay just because I gave you head, then you're not gay," Michael continued. "You don't think about becoming gay. You don't plan it. The way I see it is, if you've never thought about being gay before now then you're definitely not gay."

I'd never really thought Michael could answer that way. Call me arrogant, but . . . I'd never thought he could sound that smart. Shows what I know. Recently, I've been getting a lot of reminders that being smart in school didn't mean that you're smart at everything. I could just as easily be an idiot in everything else . . . and Michael was currently making me feel like maybe I was.

"That doesn't make a lot of sense to me. What about Dennis? Wasn't he gay?" I asked as a half-hearted attempt at a rebuttal.

"Yeah. He was, because he knew and admitted that he was. Because he did and liked things that he knew were gay and he loved doing them because they're gay. It didn't have anything to do with how he carried himself in class. Even after he left school, no one thought that he was gay. But people thought that I was, only 'cuz I liked to express myself. Not all boys who stay quiet and proper are straight, and not all boys who like flaunting their stuff are gay."

"I guess I can understand that," I conceded.

"Let me guess—you thought I'd start talking like a spoiled girl and talk about sex all day long," Michael asked with a smirk, knowing fully well what I would say.

"Yeah, I did." Guilty as charged, I thought—it was like Michael could read my mind. "But if you're not gay, then . . . why give blowjobs at all? Dennis did it because he was gay. Why'd you have to do it, too? If a guy gives a guy a blowjob, that's gay."

"And who decides what's gay and what's not?" Michael asked me with a raised eyebrow.

"Well . . . "

"I know, Colin," Michael answered with a patient smile. "Shit's complicated. But it doesn't have to be for us. See, Dennis considered it to be the best thing he could ever give to anyone. He knew I was straight, but still asked me anyway. It meant a lot—for him, and for me. You're the only other boy that I've tried it with, you know. I just thought it would have the same effect on you—that it would mean the same for you. And you know what? So what if it is gay? So what if I were gay? It felt good, didn't it?"

"Yeah, it did," I replied hesitantly. "But why did you try it on me? Why couldn't you have just bought me lunch like how everyone else says thanks? What if I said no?"

"What you did for me meant a lot . . . and I remembered Dennis, I guess," Michael answered thoughtfully. "Sure, everyone says it's gay to suck dick, but it really depends on you to decide if you're gay with everything else, yeah? I just thought that you'd like it, and you did. That's all I ever wanted to happen. Besides, I asked, and you said 'yes'."

"I didn't!"

"Well . . . you didn't say 'no'." Michael grinned as he said it. "When I asked you, I could read it on your face. It kinda excited you, didn't it?" Admittedly, he'd gotten me on that.

"So . . . what now . . . ?" I asked, with all the uncertainty of a child trying to decide if it was acceptable to pet a growling dog. "I liked that blowjob. I was gonna do things to you because I thought you'd want me to—I thought that was what I was supposed to do for you. I thought that's how being gay works.

"You said you're not gay . . . but what does that make me?" The question just tumbled out of my mouth, like I was afraid that I wouldn't be able to say it.

"Why do you have to 'be' anything? Why can't you just be Colin?" Michael replied. He was smiling again. It was the kind of honest smile that made me feel at peace inside.

I didn't reply right away, so Michael continued.

"There's no time limit to know who you are. There's no deadline, and it's not a class requirement. You're the only one who gets to decide who or what you are and you can do it at your own pace. You don't have to be anything that people expect. Straight, gay, bi, whatever. You can be anything or nothing, as long as you can be proud of being Colin Cress."

I smiled. It was the biggest smile that I'd had in a while, and my insides felt warm. I'd never thought that I'd end up being schooled by Michael, of all people.

"I always thought I was smart, but everything you just said here makes you smarter than I'll ever be."

Michael giggled at my remark. "Nah, I'm not all that. Don't you think I ever asked the same questions you just did? Where do you think I got this all from? Dennis wasn't anything special at school, but I'll be damned if he wasn't the smartest person that I've ever known in my life. He was simply good at being a decent human being."

Michael's eyes were staring at the wall again. I was starting to wonder if I should name my wall 'Dennis' because of the way he kept staring at it whenever he talked about his friend.

Michael got up off the bed and rummaged inside his rucksack. He then brought out two shiny green bottles. He regarded each with a fond expression, and then handed me one of them with a mischievous look in his eye.

"Michael, you brought beer?" I asked incredulously.

"Yeah, I thought it would be a great idea, taking a swig after your first blowjob. Our talk got heavy, dinn'it? But either way, people drink to wash away their sorrows, yeah?"

"I've never tried drinking before. This'll be my first time," I said as I felt my cheeks begin to warm.

"Who says this isn't my first time, too?" he replied with a laugh. "I just snuck these out of the fridge when Mom wasn't looking."

"You are the craziest friend I've ever known," I said. Somehow, the sincerity and truth in my voice felt absolutely perfect in this situation.

"Friends, eh? I'll drink to that!" Michael said as we raised our bottles together and took our very first sip of beer . . .

. . . which we both promptly spat out at roughly the same time.

"That tasted like barbed wire," I groaned, as I stuck my tongue out, hoping to get the aftertaste off.

"Agreed," Michael replied with a disbelieving smile. "This shit is nasty. Why do people even drink this stuff?"

We just looked at each other for a couple of seconds before we both burst out laughing.

I eventually had to get a mop to clean up the mess that we'd made with the beer while Michael helped me out. When I think about it, the day had turned out quite pleasantly, even if it had completely derailed what I'd planned for it. Originally, I'd thought that I was just going to get a blowjob, followed by my ridiculous attempts to do what I thought gay people did. Instead, I also learned about myself, about friendship, and about being a decent human being.

Most of all, I learned . . . that beer really does taste like shit.