Lyin’ Ryan

Chapter 1-4

During the cab ride to my condo, I wondered if I’d made a mistake in inviting Ryan to my home. I didn’t know him and it had been a long time since I’d picked up anyone in a bar. What if we got to my condo and demanded money for s*x? I didn’t even have much cash on me. How much did male prostitutes charge these days? Fifty dollars for a blow job? A hundred for anal? More than that? I had no idea. Ryan rested his head on my shoulder and closed his eyes. Yes, he was young and cute, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t beat the s**t out of me, rob me, or even kill me. He was a stranger to me. He’s not a psychopath, I silently told myself. We’ll have a good time together. This one-night stand is just the thing I need to get myself out of my s****l slump. Taking Ryan home won’t be something I’ll regret in the morning.

By the time the cab pulled up in front of my building, I’d convinced myself I was doing the right thing.

I lived in a one-bedroom, one-bath condo on the eleventh floor of a high rise in Chicago’s Streeterville neighborhood. It was an older building without a lot of the amenities that the newly constructed downtown condos had, but I’d gotten a good price for it and I liked it. Because I’d saved money on the purchase price, I was able to do extensive renovations, gutting the kitchen and bathroom to put in new marble countertops and updated fixtures, having new hardwood floors installed, and painting every room in warm, earthy colors. I had hoped Donovan and I would eventually buy a bigger, nicer place together, but every time I’d brought up the subject of cohabitation, he’d either give me some bullshit excuse about the time not being right or change the subject entirely.

“Thanks for inviting me here,” Ryan said as we walked into the living room.

“Thanks for coming.”

“Well,” he said with a soft laugh, “I haven’t come yet.”

Even though his joke was lame, I laughed anyway because it was funny. At least he had a sense of humor.

“Your place is nice,” he said, looking around the living and dining areas.

“Thanks. I like it.”

There was some small talk between us about the condo and I took Ryan onto the balcony to view the city.

“Do you live here alone?” he asked as we looked out over the Chicago skyline.

“Yes.”

“No boyfriend?”

“No boyfriend.”

Ryan looked like he wanted to ask another question but, thankfully, he didn’t. The last thing I wanted to do was talk about Donovan.

When Ryan and I returned to the living room, I turned to him. “Look, before this goes any further, I’m going to need to see some ID.”

He blinked. “ID?”

“I just want to make sure you’re the consenting adult you say you are.”

“How young do you think I am?”

“I figure you must be at least twenty-one since we met in a bar, but I want confirmation.”

Ryan pulled his wallet from his back pocket and slid out his driver’s license. I looked it over. He was indeed twenty-one and I was surprised to see that his license was from New York and listed a Syracuse address. Maybe he really was a college student. I handed it back to him with a smile.

“Well, happy birthday, Mr. Meade.”

His face flushed as he stuffed his license back into his wallet. “Thanks.”

“How does it feel to finally be twenty-one?”

He smiled. “It feels great.”

I told him to have a seat and asked if he wanted something to drink.

“I’ll take a beer, if you have one,” he said, sitting in one of the living room chairs.

While I was getting two cans of MGD from the fridge, I asked, “Shouldn’t you be spending your twenty-first birthday getting drunk somewhere with your friends?”

“Probably, but I chose not to.”

When I returned to the living room, I handed Ryan a beer. “Are you doing this for money?” As soon as the question left my mouth, I regretted speaking the words, but I couldn’t let things go any further until I knew the answer. I expected him to be insulted and angered, but he wasn’t. Instead, he seemed to find it amusing and laughed.

“Wow,” he said, popping the beer can top before taking a swallow. “I don’t think I’ve ever been accused of being underage and a trick in the same night.”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked—”

“I’m not a prostitute, Matthew. I don’t want any money from you.”

“Okay.” I should have let the matter drop then and there, but I didn’t. “I know it’s none of my business, but why didn’t you just find a guy your own age to hook up with?”

Ryan laughed dismissively. “Guys my age are f*****g idiots.”

Guys my age aren’t much better, I was tempted to say.

“Besides,” he continued, “that’s not what I want. I’ve fantasized about being with an older man for a long time. A man who knows what he’s doing.”

Fantasized? Given how hard he’d been hitting on me at the bar, I assumed he’d been around the block a few times. “You’re not a virgin, are you?”

He laughed again. “No, I’m not a virgin. I’ve just never been with an older man before. Hopefully, that will change tonight.”

Ryan’s revelation and the statement that followed made me a little uneasy. He may not have been a virgin in the traditional sense of the word, but he was virgin enough for me to have reservations about f*****g him. Why was he so anxious to get f****d by someone twice his age? Did he have a daddy fetish?

“Maybe this isn’t such a good idea,” I said.

He immediately sat up. “What? Why not?”

“Look, I’m forty years old.”

He shrugged. “So?”

“So I’m twice your age. It may not be an issue for you, but it’s starting to be an issue for me.”

“Why? I’m an adult who can make my own decisions. You aren’t forcing me to do anything I don’t want to do.”

I didn’t know what to say. My mind was working overtime trying to figure out a reasonable solution that would satisfy us both. I knew if I f****d him, I’d end up feeling like a dirty old man and regretting it afterward. Maybe we could just blow each other and call it a night.

“Look,” he said, interrupting my thoughts, “I want to get f****d. That’s what I came here for. If you want to bail, just tell me now so I can be on my way.”

Even though my mind told me to do just that and show him the door, I didn’t. He was right. He was an adult who could make his own decisions, and if he wanted to get f****d, then I figured I should f**k him.

“I’ll give you what you came for,” I told him, “but if you’re uncomfortable with something or if I am, everything stops, okay?”

“Okay.” A wry smile came to Ryan’s lips and he settled into his chair and chugged the rest of his beer. He asked to go to the bathroom after that and I told him it was down the hall. After he was gone, I finished my own beer and tried to convince myself that I wasn’t about to make a huge mistake.

When Ryan emerged about a minute later, he and I retreated to the bedroom.

“You know my last name, but I don’t know yours,” he said as he stepped out of his shoes.

“It’s Pepper.”

He chuckled. “So your patients call you Dr. Pepper?”

I rolled my eyes. Dr. Pepper jokes stopped being funny to me years ago. “Yes. My patients call me Dr. Pepper.”

He unzipped his pants and slid his hand inside. He wasn’t wearing underwear. “Can I call you Dr. Pepper?” He pulled out his c**k and stroked it.

My mouth watered at the sight. “You can call me whatever you want.”

He smiled and stopped stroking long enough to pull off his pants and discard his shirt. His body was as nice as I thought it would be: lean, fit, and beautiful. His chest was smooth with dark n*****s and he was on his way to a decent set of abs. A faint trail of dark hair below his navel led to a nice-sized, hard c**k with a set of low-hanging balls surrounded by a neat bush of pubic hair.

“Come here,” I said to him. He did as instructed. I took him into my arms and kissed him on the neck. I wasn’t sure if he was comfortable being kissed on the mouth, so I purposely avoided that for the time being. I figured if he was okay with me kissing his neck, he’d be okay with me kissing his mouth.

“You smell good,” I said, grabbing his ass cheeks. He did smell good. Clearly he’d showered before he went to the bar. Unfortunately, some young men often weren’t particularly hygienic, so I was glad to discover Ryan bucked the trend.

I pushed him onto the bed and dropped to my knees before him. I didn’t even bother getting undressed myself, so desperate to suck his c**k. He moaned as I took him in and grasped the sides of my head. I loved the way Ryan tasted and the way his c**k felt in my mouth. I hadn’t sucked any man’s c**k (other than Donovan’s) in more than two years, so having a different man in my mouth was, well, different. It wasn’t different in a bad way, but different nonetheless. I’d grown accustomed to the width and girth of Donovan’s c**k. I knew his genitalia inside and out, so having a new c**k and a new set of balls to deal with presented a challenge to me. With Donovan, I knew how to please him because I knew what he liked sexually. With Ryan, I didn’t, and I liked that being with him was a new adventure for me.

“I’m gonna come,” Ryan said.

I appreciated his warning and pulled off his c**k. A lot of men wouldn’t have shown such courtesy. They would have just blown their load into my mouth without a second thought. Clearly, Ryan had been raised right. I took his c**k in my hand and gave it a few strokes before he let out a breathy sigh and came all over my shirt. He immediately sat up and looked at me.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“Don’t be.”

I blew my wad pretty fast when I was younger also. Now, I got out of my jizz-covered shirt and the rest of my clothes before joining Ryan on the bed. I turned him onto his stomach and spread the cheeks of his lovely ass. He was clean here also, thank God, and his hole looked sweet and tight. I licked his crack before sliding my tongue inside. He gasped and his entire body shook like he’d just gotten a severe chill. I hoped he didn’t pass out on me. I could feel his body trembling as I ate his ass. When I replaced my tongue with a finger, he practically howled. I knew then that he was ready to be f****d. I also knew that there was no way I was going to f**k him. I should have never brought him into my home and into my bed. I wasn’t the kind of guy who picked up college boys, yet I’d done just that. I’d blown and rimmed a kid, a virtual stranger. Was I that pathetic? Apparently.

“I can’t do this,” I said after giving Ryan’s ass cheeks a good squeeze.

He looked over his shoulder. “Why not?”

“I just can’t,” I said, rising. “I’m sorry.” My c**k had gone soft, too. It, obviously, was as disappointed as I was that the evening had hit such a sour note.

I expected Ryan to question me further about why I’d bailed on him, but he didn’t. Instead, he quickly rose and started gathering his discarded clothing. Clearly, he wasn’t interested in talking about our failed s****l encounter. He just wanted to get the hell away from me.

“Can I take a shower?” he finally asked, a tremor of anxiousness in his voice that made me feel even worse than I already did.

“Sure,” I said with a sigh.

After the bathroom door closed and I heard the shower running, I put on my pants. I felt terrible. Not only had I failed in f*****g Ryan, I’d managed to totally freak him out, too.

By the time he emerged about ten minutes later, I was pulling clean underwear and pajamas from the dresser in anticipation of my own shower. He’d dressed and his hair was damp. He looked fine except for one thing: his eyes were red. f**k. On top of everything else, I’d made him cry. He glanced at me for a moment before clearing his throat and looking away.

“I’d better go,” he mumbled.

I touched his arm as he started to leave the bedroom. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he said rather unconvincingly.

I wanted to ask if he’d been crying, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it, mainly because I didn’t want to embarrass him, but also because I didn’t really want to hear the answer. So I kept my mouth shut and walked him to the front door in silence.

“Thanks for coming by,” I said. “I really appreciate it.” I asked if he needed money for a cab home and he shook his head.

“Goodnight,” he mumbled.

And with that, he bolted out of the apartment and disappeared into one of the elevator cars.

I hit the shower almost immediately. After our failed evening of debauchery, I was ready to wash the smell of him from my body and remove the taste of him from my mouth. By the time I’d had a thorough scrub, put on clean underwear, a T-shirt, and a pair of pajama pants, brushed my teeth, gargled with mouthwash, and changed the sheets on my bed, I felt slightly better. I figured the worst was over, and I eventually fell asleep, assuming I’d never hear from or see Ryan Meade again.