In the meantime, Matt became more comfortable in my presence and started talking more openly about sex. I realized that most of his banter revolved around oral sex; in particular about his penchant for having his cock sucked. He often spoke of how he liked to train his girlfriends to suck his cock for hours on end. As he spoke of this I fantasized myself in the place of the women he spoke of.

I knew that if I were a woman I would gladly thrive in the worship of his phallus.  I thought of my girlfriend and how much she liked to give me head and I was certain she would like his cock even more. I imagined her giving him head I was both jealous and at the same time totally turned on.

Whenever she gave me head I sat fascinated inevitably imagining myself going down on Matt. I thought of him propped up on that bean bag—his cock and balls and even his asshole proudly on display and easily accessible. I wanted to touch it with both hands; to weigh his balls in my fingers as he reigned over me.

Each time I visited I secretly hoped to walk in on Matt splayed on the beanbag. I imagined walking directly over to sit beside him—my eyes betraying that I was willing to do whatever he wanted in order to please him. But each time I came up the stairs I was sorely disappointed to find him do something else.

I found myself visiting more frequently—sometimes unannounced—to see if I could catch him. One evening during a planned visit I came in to find him highly agitated. “What’s wrong with you?” I asked.

“Oh, it’s Debbie. She’s been a total bitch lately.” He shrugged and then laughed. “She’s been making me suffer.”

“How so? You mean she’s not putting out?”

“Oh she’ll put out—most of the time. She just won’t suck my cock. She says I’ve gotten too spoiled and she intends to wean me off.” He shook his head. “And then today she wouldn’t even fuck me. Man, I just hate that.”

“Oh.” I hesitated. “I’m surprised you don’t just find someone else,” I said kind of haltingly, trying to make it sound like it was jest.

“Oh, I might right now if I had time.” Matt laughed, nervously. “But she’ll be home in a few hours anyway.” He paused. Matt looked amazingly vulnerable. I had never seen him like that and for one instance I decided to admit my desires when he spoke first, “I need a beer, you want one too?”

“Yeah sure.”

Matt got up to go downstairs. I realized how disappointed I was to have missed an opportunity. I looked at my hands and realized I was shaking. Matt came back a few moments later with a full six pack and handed me a beer. For the next hour we painted, discussing various things while we drank the beers. I think that subconsciously I was trying to steer the conversation back to sex but he was having no part of it.

Suddenly, he put his work aside and said, “It must seem funny to you, huh?”

“Funny? What do you mean?”

“Me, all frustrated.” He sneered.