One of My Followers Got My Attention

Everyone is 18.

It started with a message. Just: "hi."

I rolled my eyes. People think they're starting a conversation when really they're just starting a waiting game. Still, I try to answer my DMs if I can.

I replied: "sup"

A beat later: "Not gay, but your stories are so hot."

Attached were two nudes. One selfie, a serious face showing off his cheek bones, his boner under a towel held up by his hand, ass showing in the mirror. The other sprawled across a bed with a horny expression, legs up showing his hole. He looked eighteen. Barely. He had great abs, definitely having played sports. His butt was perky and perfect, with a tiny pink hole and just the faintest amount of hair on it. He was exactly my type of jock-leaning twink.

I didn’t reply for a full hour. I let him sit in his own anxiety. Eventually I just wrote: "Straight guys don’t usually send me those."

"I just think you’re hot," he sent back. "Is that a crime?"

Cute. I let it sit again. Then: "Depends what you wanna do about it."

He kept messaging. I learned he was fresh to the city, had just turned 18 in June, and was crashing on a friend's couch. I assumed he was looking for a warm bed. Still, I liked the way he talked to me. Bold in text, timid in photos. A push-pull I couldn’t resist.

"You wanna hang out? Just chill. I’m 18. I'm not trying anything."

"Yeah, you are."

"Okay."

I agreed to meet him for coffee. Neutral territory.

He showed up wearing a fitted t-shirt that didn’t hide how often he went to the gym. He kept his eyes mostly on his drink. Until I shifted in my seat, legs wide apart, letting my jeans do some of the talking. Then his gaze dropped for just a second too long.

"You look like your stories," he mumbled. "I mean, you write how you are. Confident. Big dick energy."

"BDE is just when you think someone is hot and dominant."

He grinned. "Well that's you then."

He kept talking, his words tumbling out in a nervous rush. "You’re just... different, you know? Like, the way you carry yourself. It’s not just the confidence or whatever. It’s like you know what you want, and you don’t care what anyone thinks. I wish I could be like that."

He paused, fidgeting with his coffee cup. "And your stories... they’re so raw. Like, they make me feel things I didn’t even know I could feel."

I raised an eyebrow, making sure he knew I was listening. "Sounds like you’ve been thinking about me a lot."

He blushed, looking down at the table. "Maybe. But it’s not like that. I mean, I’m definitely not gay or anything. It’s just... you’re interesting. And hot. But not in a gay way."

I smirked, leaning back in my chair. His level of denial was interesting to me. "Sure, dude."

He laughed nervously, running a hand through his hair. "It’s just... school’s been weird lately. Like, there’s this guy in my class who keeps giving me these looks, and I don’t know what to do about it. And then there’s this girl who’s always flirting with me, but I can’t tell if she’s serious or just messing with me. It’s all so confusing."

I nodded, letting him vent. "Sounds like you’ve got a lot on your mind."

"Yeah," he said, sighing. "But talking to you helps. You’re easy to talk to, even if you are kind of a dick sometimes."

"Glad I can be of service," I said as the corners of my lips curled into a smile, finishing my coffee.

He grinned back, his confidence flickering back for a moment. "You know, you’re kind of like my therapist. Except hotter. And less professional."

"Great," I said, standing up. "Just what I always wanted to be."

He laughed again, following me out of the café. As we headed down the block, he kept glancing at me, like he was trying to figure something out. But he didn’t say anything for a while as we walked, and neither did I.

We walked down a side street "near his friend's place". He stopped beside a graffiti-tagged dumpster and said, "Wanna see something?"

Before I could answer, he unzipped and pulled himself out. Already half hard. It was a nice dick actually, as big as it had looked in his pics.

"Nice."

I walked off.

He zipped up quick and chased me. "Wait, that’s it?"

"You want a gold star for flashing me? Try harder."

—[]—

The first time he came over, he was sweaty and a little dirty from biking over. He showered. He walked out in a towel, pretending to be surprised I was still in the room. He dropped the towel and tried to pretend it was an accident. He looked at me.

I tossed him a hoodie and went back to my laptop.

That night, he slept in my bed. Shirtless. Just briefs. He crept closer until his thigh pressed against mine. I didn’t move.

"You ever just want to... try something? Just to see?"

"Do you?"

"I don't know," he mumbled.

He groaned.

It became a pattern. He’d come over. Shower. Walk out naked. I'd let my gaze linger just long enough to fuel his spiral, then never make a move. One night, he climbed into my lap. Naked. Hard. Grinding slightly. A desperate, athletic twink in my lap begging for something to happen.

"Please," he whispered. "I just wanna touch it. I think about it all the time."

I slid him off like luggage.

"You don't know what you want."

He threw a pillow at me. "You’re a dick."

"You’re easy."

—[]—

He got jealous sometimes. Like if I mentioned a guy I had been with in the past, and then he wouldn't say anything for a while.

He tried to seduce me at his parents' place once when I came over. They weren't home. There were candles. Instant ramen. He walked around in his boxer briefs and put on a playlist that jumped from The Weeknd to a weird lo-fi cover of Britney Spears. He tripped while trying to strip. We both laughed until we couldn’t breathe.

I kissed him. Just once. He melted into it.

Then I pulled away. "Nice try."

He didn’t text me for two days. Then showed up at my door, hoodie over his head, red-eyed.

"I thought you were done with me," I said casually upon seeing him.

"You wish."

That night, he lay in my bed, fully naked. Not shy anymore. He crawled toward me like he had something to prove.

"I don’t care anymore. I need it. I want it."

I looked him dead in the eye. "Say it."

He swallowed. Then glanced down at my bulge and muttered, "I'm straight. But I'm gay for that."

I smiled. "At least you finally said it."

I kissed him hard for the first time, and he loved it, like he’d been standing for his whole life and just sat down for the first time. His body melted into mine as I held him, his hands gripping my shoulders like he was afraid I’d pull away. But I didn’t. I let him feel it, the weight of what he’d been chasing, the heat of what I'd been denying him.

I moved down his body, kissing every inch of him until I reached his cock. I sucked his thickness into my mouth slowly, teasingly, rubbing my tongue on the sensitive underside, stopping just before he could cum. He groaned, frustrated but desperate, his hips twitching under my control. Then I flipped him over, spreading his cheeks and licking his sweaty, pink hole. He gasped, his back arching as I worked him open with my tongue. He was trembling by the time he begged, “Please… put it in.”

I finally gave in to his demands, lubing us up and sliding into him. He moaned, loud and unrestrained, his body tightening around me as I fucked him deep and slow. He took to it quicker than I expected, probably loosened up from the weeks of teasing I had tortured him with. He clawed at the sheets, his breath coming in ragged gasps. I could feel him unraveling beneath me, every thrust pushing him closer to the edge of sanity.

He said he was going to cum, but neither of us was even touching his dick. I wasn't anywhere near close yet, still in the slow motions of the warm-up phase, so I pulled out. He looked at me disappointed, maybe confused, as I lay back on my bed, arms behind my head, my eyes beaming at him.

He took things into his own hands. He got on all fours next to me, his body was fucking hot. I literally felt the warmth radiating off of him. He leaned down and wrapped his lips around my cock. I could tell how obsessed he had been just from the eagerness of his mouth. The way his tongue flicked against me, tentative at first but getting bolder with every second. He didn’t care that my cock had just been inside him. He bobbed on it powerfully like he was claiming it for himself.

I let him take control, watching as he bounced his head on me, his movements clumsy but impressive driven. His hands gripped my thighs and my hips, steadying himself as he worked me deeper into his mouth, and then his throat. I closed my eyes and listened to the soft, wet squishing sounds of him sucking me off. He was inexperienced, but that just made him raw and unfiltered, going purely off instincts and porn videos, and maybe a girl or two who had blown him. He was giving himself completely to the moment.

His eyes looked up to meet mine, and I could see the desperation in them, the way he was silently begging for approval. I reached down and tangled my fingers in his hair, not guiding him, just letting him know I was there. He whimpered around my cock, sinking deep into the submissive role he had fantasized about until now, the vibration making my cock feel amazing. He was learning fast, and his tongue swirled around the tip before he took me deep again, his throat gripping my shaft, working to accommodate me.

I could feel myself getting closer, especially when he used his hands. He was firmly working the head of my cock every time he took me out of his mouth. The tension built in my gut, but I didn’t want it to end yet. I pulled his head off me gently, his lips making a soft pop as they separated. He looked up at me, confused, his face flushed and his lips swollen. “Why’d you stop me?” he whispered, he said with the telltale hoarse voice of a recently given blowjob.

“Because I want to savor this,” I said, running my thumb over his bottom lip. “You’re so hot.”

He smiled at the praise, his eyes closing for a moment before he leaned back in, determined to finish what he started. This time, his confidence had grown, and his movements were smoother. I let myself get lost in the sensation, in the way it made me feel to be worshiped. I always loved a submissive guy, but this dude was kind of special. He had a real desire to please me, and be close to me. I felt like I had to be careful with him, like maybe he was fragile. I thought I had just been teasing him, but maybe I was afraid of hurting him by "using" him like so many bottoms had asked me to do over the years. I came suddenly, before I realized it was too late. I warned him, my hand tightening in his hair, but he didn't miss a beat, swallowing every drop.

He pulled back slowly, licking his lips as he looked up at me with a mix of pride and exhaustion. “Was that okay?” he asked softly, somewhat unsure.

I smiled, pulling him up to kiss him deeply. I tasted all of myself on him. I pulled away and looked at him.

“It was more than okay, dude,” I muttered quietly against his lips. “It was perfect.”

He messages me every morning now. Sends photos. Wears my clothes. Brings me snacks. Sometimes I catch him staring at me when he thinks I’m not looking. I had never even thought about having a "boyfriend", but I guess there's not better word to describe him now.

He still hasn't figured out what label fits him best, but it doesn't matter. That's just his journey, even if it seems obvious to me.

At least he figured out what he wanted.