Adam Venus
My heart stops as the door opens and he appears through the steam – totally naked. All six feet of him. He pads across the floor, then sits opposite me on the step, his firm ass against the wood. And then he stares directly into my eyes.
I came in here for security. I didn’t know where else to go. His penis was just staring at me, huge and terrifying. I didn’t think he would follow. But, okay, I’m not too disappointed…just scared. This is so not allowed. If anyone comes in, my future is derailed. I can just see the headlines: Local Student Banned for Homosexual Activity in Seminary. My dad would disown me, my life would be over…
And yet, right now, the penis in front of me probably outweighs all of that. Maybe even literally.
“Hi?” I ask, but he doesn’t say anything. Instead, to my horror, he keeps his eyes locked with mine and takes his penis in his hands. I stop breathing as he caresses the tip, touching parts of himself I’ve only seen in biblical-age paintings. My blood burns, my own penis grows, by pulse pounds in my ears. His back arches as he rubs a little harder, and his eyes become slits.
“Oh,” he moans, his shoulders sinking down the wooden wall a few inches. What is going on? And why is my hand migrating to my own penis, too?
We play a cat-and-mouse moment for a minute – him daring me to react, me dancing around admitting I know what’s going on. It makes me feel like my whole body has been lit on fire. I consider praying and asking for forgiveness, but then I decide I don’t even want God’s name in my head in a setting as unholy as this. I can be religious, and sensual, at the same time – right? No matter the gender?
…Right?
“Do it,” he murmurs. “Do it with me. No touching needed. Just watch.”
He takes his length with both hands, and for a moment I can’t believe what is happening. I’m watching a guy masturbate on my campus. This is so bad.
But it feels so good.
And so I do it, too. And the shepherd leads a flock of one.
I spread my legs just an inch and then barely move my towel apart in the front, showing him a glimpse. My heart thuds, my chest is tight. This is horrifying but I know I want it. His – well, for lack of a better word, his maleness, the overpowering energy radiating off him, is too much.
“Oh, fuck yes,” he moans. “Show me more.”
I move my towel an inch more.
“Oh, yeah. More.”
We keep this dance for a minute until my towel is fully off. And suddenly I am sitting naked in front of another male.
“Damn,” he says. “That cock is so nice. Stroke it for me. Please?”
I hesitate, then finally I say one last prayer for forgiveness and then wrap my hand around the end of my penis. I moan instantly, the sound unlike any I’ve ever made.
“But…what if someone comes in?”
“Stop,” he says. “Just feel it. Just let it in.”
I start rubbing with one hand, then two. With his eyes on me while I do this, and mine on his while he does the same, I’ve never felt so electrified. Life wasn’t life before this. It was just…existing.
“Come with me,” he breathes, his voice strained. I watch his muscles flex as he speaks, and my penis twitches. I didn’t even know I could do that.
“You mean…at the same time?”
“It can sync up, like girls and their cycles. Just keep your eyes on me and try to stay in tune. Watch me stroke this cock, Adam.”
He starts rubbing harder than ever, moaning and letting his eyes close. I do the same, and soon I am taken to heaven. Or hell, maybe. But either way, I’ve never felt like this. His penis is so big and fat, his abs are so defined and sweaty and slick, his legs are so powerful-looking…I want him to take me, to just claim me and make me his own. I’m just starting to imagine that when my legs go numb and I realize I am about to orgasm.
“I’m there,” I groan, and he nods.
“Me, too.”
And then we both come together, and for the first time in my life, another person watches me tense up, go still, and then squirt semen all over my chest…
Bump-bump.
I lean against the wall, exhausted and fuzzy-brained, gasping for air. Then it hits me – this was the craziest thing I ever did. I need to get out of here. Now.
I grab my towel and rub the whitish goo off my chest and abdomen. Then I get up and run out before I can even say goodbye. This marks the second time I’ve ditched him lately, but I don’t care – that was reckless, and it’s remarkable that we didn’t get caught. Miraculous, even. Moses coming off the mountain had nothing on us.
Actually, no: the most remarkable thing is that as the door slams behind me, I am almost positive I hear him laughing hysterically to himself.
~
I wait for the nightmares that night. They don’t come. Instead I have a series of hazy, heated sex dreams about Fabian. Now that I have something to assign to these visuals, they’re far more detailed and erotic. We do things I’ve never even seen in porn videos. And when I wake at seven, feeling totally rested – and totally hard – I wait for the mountain of shame to fall on me. I wait for the guilt. I let a guy watch me masturbate yesterday – that’s bad, right?
But no. I never feel any of that. Instead I feel…kind of charged, like I’m wearing a static-y sweater on a cold day. And by that evening I decided I want to do it again, as crazy as that sounds…or something like it…
Class is dreadful the next day, mostly because he won’t get off my mind. I’m back in the locker room trying on my church’s new ceremonial robes when someone appears behind me, the door closing behind them. And again, I know that it is him. He’s been in the gym, and instantly I smell the musty, sweaty scent wafting off him – admittedly my favorite way for a guy to smell. It’s just so…wild, and I don’t know why I like that, but I do.
I don’t turn. Instead I hear him walk up behind me, and then I see his face in the mirror, looming over my shoulder, his eyes boring into mine. His hair is wild and his face shimmers with sweat. He places a kiss on my earlobe, and I inhale. I have no idea how I am going to be able to handle this or even reject him. But we can’t do this here.
“Fabian,” I breathe, my voice desperate and choked. Already, his name sounds like a prayer on my lips. “Not…here. Not now. Not again. I’m in my robes.”
“I know,” he says, tracing a line down my back. “And you’ve got your cross necklace on, too. You’re always so…proper. So good. Why not be a little bad? Angels can be devils, too – Lucifer himself started out in heaven.”
His voice, low and hungry, makes me shiver. “And then ended up in hell. I’m literally in a pastor’s robe, standing in a seminary school, and I don’t want to get sent straight to hell in a chariot of fire, plunged into a lake of lave, etcetera.”
“Lava – sounds hot. Almost as hot as us.” His eyes turn to slits. “Such a shame.”
“What is?”
“That you’re so holy. Because it means I can’t do…this,” he says, running his hand down my side, then around, and rubbing at my crotch with his arm, large hands. I close my eyes and moan. “And I can’t do…this either,” he whispers, licking me from my ear down to my collarbone, his tongue a wet trail of heaven. My heart pounds, my mouth goes dry. At this point I could rip everything off my body and just attack him, but I can’t – something about the robe is just making me too nervous. I’ve changed a lot lately, but not that much. I am not going to have gay sex in a pastor’s robe.
“Fabian,” I plead, knowing I won’t be able to resist this for much longer. “Please. Not here. Not now.”
His eyes shift again. Then his face twists into a snarl. “Fine,” he says, and just like that, he is gone.
He’s on my mind the whole next day. I don’t see him on campus, but it’s not like we cross paths that regularly anyway. And soon it consumes me. I’ve got to apologize to him, but I don’t know how. Sure, he’s moving quickly, but he knows how slow I need to go if I’m going to stay comfortable. So I message his profile as soon as my last class ends, swallowing nerves as my hands slicken with sweat:
Hey. I’m really sorry about the other day. But I want to make it up to you. Please let me?