Splash

Rodney's first blowjob happened in the guest bathroom at Clarisse Peterson's pool house, the summer he was fifteen. He'd mapped out the branching probability tree of everything that was likely to happen at Clarisse's sweet sixteen, down to who he thought he might try to flirt with and how spectacularly that flirtation would fail.

He hadn't, however, factored serendipity into the picture. In this case, running from an angry wasp (there might have been others! What if it had friends?) into the downstairs bathroom, not realizing Todd Stanislavski had just let himself in there.

There was an awkward moment during which Rodney blushed and stammered and felt like eleven kinds of idiot, but then Todd smiled at him’—a confident goalie smile’—and unzipped his fly.

This was nothing like standing next to another guy in a public men's room. For one thing, there was only the one commode, and Todd wasn't even facing it. And then there was the invitation. All Todd said was, "You want to?" and Rodney's life turned upside-down.

Todd might have said something else, but it was drowned out by the rushing of blood in Rodney's ears. He sank to the floor, sparing half a thought to be thankful for the shag rug in front of the sink. He licked his lips, and the hunger he saw in Todd's eyes in that moment was heady and gratifying and made him open his mouth and take Todd in.

Rodney was dimly aware of his own wet swim trunks, clammy against his skin in the air-conditioned room. He was profoundly aware that he was doing something that was really against the rules’—the kind of thing that could get a guy's ass kicked, especially a guy who was already younger than everyone else in his supposed peer group. (Right. Like these people were his peers in any way.)

But mostly he was aware of the feel of Todd's dick in his mouth. It was bigger than he'd expected, and the skin was softer. He felt clumsy and unpracticed, but Todd apparently didn't care; he was gasping, pushing forward like Rodney's mouth was the best thing ever. Rodney's own dick strained against the net lining of his swimsuit, aching.

It was over surprisingly fast. Rodney choked a little and swallowed hard, and blinked a few times.

Todd reached a hand down and helped him stand. His mouth was tingling and standing too fast made him dizzy.

"Thanks, McKay," Todd said, still smiling. "You're all right."

And then Todd left, and Rodney stared at himself in the mirror. He reached down to finish himself off, startled by how his dick surged in his hand as he watched his pale reflection's fist moving, his thumb stroking over the tip --

When he went back out to the party, he made a beeline for the pool and cannonballed into the deep end. In that moment’—sated, surprised, burning with possibility’—he didn't care how big of a splash he made.

(500 words)

The End