|Out of Luck
Author: d'Neronique PM
[slash] No one wants something more than if they can’t have it. That’s why I believe the best way to get guys is to pretend you’re straight – and you had better believe it works like a charm.Rated: Fiction M - English - Humor/Angst - Chapters: 10 - Words: 42,254 - Reviews: 339 - Favs: 464 - Follows: 80 - Updated: 02-03-07 - Published: 12-15-06 - Status: Complete - id: 2290966
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Out of Luck
Chapter 1: Mr. Malloc
No one wants something more than if they can't have it. That's why I believe the best way to get guys is to pretend you're straight – and you had better believe it works like a charm.
For example, take that guy over there. He's gay – I can feel it. I have this amazing gaydar I carry around with me at all times, and to this day has never led me astray. And that guy over there, sitting on that bench, deep in concentration is definitely gay. Allow me to demonstrate.
Step One: Establish Straightness
I took out my cell phone, made sure it was turned off, and began to have a fictitious conversation with my fictitious girlfriend.
"Baby, don't worry about it. I'll – you what?" I paused appropriately and waited for my fictitious lover to give me her fictitious words. While she was doing so, I meandered my way over to Mr. Bench and sat down in one of the benches opposite him. It was a park, so there were plenty of benches – this meant I had to be careful with my choice of bench. I wanted to get close enough to be able to eventually find an excuse to start up a conversation, while at the same time, I didn't want to make him uncomfortable by sitting too close. "Come on, don't get too upset about it. You gotta do what you gotta do. I won't get mad, you're my girl."
I knew right away that my one-sided conversation was starting to annoy the boy; he began to shift his position and fidget. He was, after all, trying to read or study or whatever with that book on his lap.
"Ok, you do that. You really should. Ok? Call me when you're done. Bye, babe." And with that, I ended the conversation that didn't actually exist.
Step Two: Start Conversation
(It is worth noting that step one and two can often be reversed.)
As I made my motions to put my cell phone away in my bag, I snorted conversationally. "Girls."
The other boy was aware that I was talking to him, but obviously didn't want to respond in a way that would encourage me to continue. He shrugged noncommittally and without looking at me. Unfortunately for him, I had plans. You see, not only am I a master at pretending to be straight, I am a master of conversation. I can go on for hours with a complete stranger if I have to, and leave the conversation with an excellent impression.
I nodded, not feeling bad about ruining his concentration. "What are you reading?"
Finally, he looked at me. This is good – the first look is always crucial and can come in many different times and flavors. The first look is when I can immediately tell if he's into me or not. If he's into me, I know it's worth the effort to keep pushing. If he's not, I'll probably meander off and look for someone else.
This boy was into me.
I hate to stroke my own ego, but it's actually very rare that gay guys aren't into me. Girls, too, for that matter. I'm pretty damned hot, I'm not going to lie. My body is nothing to be ashamed about – during high school I'd kept it in shape by being in the track team, and when I entered college, I had my daily jog around campus and nightly pushups. My face isn't too shabby either – large amber eyes, straight nose, kissable lips, a worthy chin, a sculpted jaw line, and dimples – all this covered by a head of nobly straight rust-colored hair. Yeah, I'm the real deal.
While we're on the subject of looks, Mr. Bench wasn't completely devoid of sexiness either. He was a blondie, sad gray eyes – and if my eyes don't deceive me a few freckles scattered atop his adorable little button of a nose as well. Yeah, I'd hit that. And I'll do everything in my power not to let him know that.
A little less reluctant now that he knew of my dashingly handsome looks, the boy offered up a shy smile. He had nice teeth. "It's just my psychology text."
Step Three: Charm and be Charmed
This is one of my favorite parts. It's the part where I try my best to win over the man until his own gaydar decides that I'm probably at least a little bi-curious, after which I watch the other bloke try his best to seduce me. For some guys, I let myself be 'seduced' rather quickly. For other guys though, I'll let it go on for weeks, months. Years, even. The longer the deception lasts, the better the sex is for both of us. Mr. Bench, however, is merely for demonstration purposes, so I plan on teasing him only for a short amount of time before we make-out behind a tree and never see to each other again.
I smiled my award-winning smile, dimples and all. "Is it your major, or just an elective?"
The boy shook his head, a little chunk of blond hair falling in front of his eyes. Delicious. "It's for my minor. I'm actually an International Business major."
"I see, I see." I nodded my head in a way that I've seen real straight boys do a million fucking times. While I had gotten a response that was more than just a grunt and a gesture, I was clearly making progress, but nowhere near where I wanted to be – he hadn't asked about me yet, a tell-tale sign of not-yet-interested. So I pushed forward. "What's your year?"
"Senior." He paused, trying to give me a discreet little check-out, building his interest in me. "Are you a student?"
Score! Inquiry! "Yeah! I'm over at BIT. Computer Science major with a concentration in Artificial Intelligence." That was another thing that was important – where he went to college. Under no circumstances would I fuck around with someone I had a chance of running into again at school – they'd screw it up with the guys I was playing with there. After he confirms that he is not a student of BIT – Bearleton Institute of Technology – I should probably find some way into a different topic. There are few things less sexy than back-propagation neural networks and decision tree induction, let me tell you. "But I'm sure your business-slash-psychology thing is hella more fun."
The cutie let out a cute little laugh. Not exactly a giggle, but pretty close. And did I mention cute? I wanted to eat him. "Fun wouldn't be the word I'd choose. It's a lot of work – it better make me rich. I've heard BIT is pretty tough, though."
And score again! He doesn't go to BIT. Perfect. Now back away from school and into more intimate things. "It has its moments. Were you studying for some sort of test?"
"Yes," For some reason he began to flip through the pages of his text. When he eventually stopped, he turned around the book so I could see it and pointed to one of those blob-pictures on the right page. "Interpretation. What do you see?"
"A black blob. What am I supposed to see?"
"Try again. You can see anything."
"Um…" I knew that I could see anything. I knew that my answer was supposed to reflect some deep insight into my mind. I had taken AP Psychology in high school and considered myself pretty good in it – not to mention there's this strong anti-liberal arts sentiment in the students of BIT, and frankly, I also considered it too easy to be taken seriously. But this kid was fuckable so I didn't want to insult him. "I see a melting cat."
"Really?" He turned the book around and studied it. "I don't. I see an upside down flower on fire."
At that moment, we laughed carelessly. During this laugh, we made eye-contact, and I let it linger longer that a real straight guy would have let it linger, and I could tell that Mr. Bench noticed it.
Step Four: Give Hope, Take Hope
"That's pretty gay."
This step is the one that can last the longest. Like sex, the longer it is, the better it is. It starts immediately after he starts getting 'bicurious vibes' and ends when the desired level of tension is created, or until any further application of tension would result in returning a null result. An important and very basic part of this stage is firmly establishing that he is gay and I'm not.
The man's face suddenly hardened a bit at my words – the appropriate response. "Don't use 'gay' that way. I don't appreciate it."
I feigned awkward surprise. "Oh – oh sorry. Are you-" I looked around a little nervously and lowered my voice a bit. "Are you…?"
"Yeah, I am gay." He said it loud and proud and without hesitation. He was going to be easy.
"That's cool. I'm sorry. An upside-down flower on fire is awesome and therefore gay. Because gay is awesome. Ok, get it? Good save right?" I wanted tug his blond head down to my crotch – but I must have patience. I offered my hand. "Peace? I'm Alec."
He let lose an adorable forgiving smile and took my hand. "Peace. I'm Dennis."
"So, uh, Dennis." I pretended to have an awkward moment of silence. "Have a, you know, boyfriend?" Give hope.
"Yeah. He's older and out in the real world, doing the work thing. I get lonely."
This is actually not a problem. Boyfriends happen. Spontaneous fucks happen more. Therefore, I had the advantage over Mr. Out-in-the-real-world. Especially if loneliness is involved. "Out in the real world? I'm not sure if I can get involved with someone who's out there. I usually prefer if they don't go to BIT-" Give hope! "- like my girlfriend right now goes to the community college down the road." Take hope away. "But having someone out in the real world - that's gotta be tough."
Dennis nodded in understanding, staring obviously at me, trying to find a good excuse to try to convince me that I'm actually a little curious about guys and that it was his duty to be the one to sate that curiosity. "Oh, I know. Trust me. He's always got some office drama to complain about or extra work he has to do."
"That's rough." We stared at each other for a while. This was my way of building up hope again, since I couldn't really think of a response that teased properly. Staring was always a good default way of communicating: I want you to casually suggest we have sex because I'm too straight to admit I'm actually curious about cock. Especially your cock, you sexy blond beefcake, you.
He got my telepathic message. There's always a moment where they make up the decision in their mind to try to seduce me right out and proper, and the line they think they should use to start it. "I'm sorry, but you have really nice eyes."
I've heard that before. Like I said, this guy is going to be easy. Play it out awkwardly, Alec. Adorably awkward. "Oh. Uh, thanks." Study his eyes. "Yours aren't too bad, either." Of course, I had to meet him halfway if I wanted him to play nicely. "They're the same color as my car."
Accepting my game of bashful-discrete-awkward-flirtation, Dennis flashed his wonderful smile of toothy sexiness in a way that screamed the sexual excitement I'm getting in anticipation of seducing a straight boy in his own car is making me impatient. "You have a car? Would you mind giving me a ride home? I'm on East Wellscott Street."
"That's on the way to BIT, isn't it?" I felt victory in the tip of my cock as I anticipated my inevitable prize. I would like to take this point in time to say that the feeling of naughty victory is shared by the boy I'm trying to convince to seduce me – it's a very satisfying feeling for a homosexual to know that you've taken the gay virginity of a supposed straight person. And that's the gift I give to all of 'my' boys. "Yeah, ok. We can leave now if you want."
Oh, he wants. "Ok, let me put my book away and we can go. I really appreciate this, Alec."
I'm sure you do.
As I led Dennis out to my car in its paralleled parked place on the street, we continued our idle chatter. It mostly consisted of how old and wonderfully shitty my car was. When Dennis was finally allowed entrance into the passenger side of my car, he allowed himself a good long look, inspecting it thoroughly. "Nice tinted windows, Mr…" He paused when he realized he didn't know my last name. "Mr. Alec."
"You may call me Mr. Malloc." Oh, you had better believe it.
Dennis hardly concealed his smirk and the laughter that followed. Oh, that mouth. The wonderful, wonderful things I bet that mouth was capable of was something I didn't want to wait to personally experience. "Alec Malloc? Seriously?" When I confirmed the rhyming nature of my name, he burst out in laughter again. "Sorry, I mean. That's awesome."
"You mean gay." This was going very well. VERY WELL. I'm fucking handing it to him on a fucking plate. "Get it? From earlier?"
"Oh, I get it. I just disagree." Take the bait, take the bait! "This is gay."
And with those last words, Dennis leaned in and planted and rather tender and convincing kiss upon my lips. Oh god, how I wanted it to last longer, maybe indulge myself in a little tongue. But that would be too easy – and like any good programmer, I loved a good challenge. I did the straight thing and jerked away, surprised. "Whoa! Dennis – I'm not that way!"
Dennis was, naturally, expecting it. "Come on, Alec, aren't you at least a little curious what it's like with a guy?"
Keep denying! "Hell no!"
"All guys are. They're just too proud to admit it." The soothing sound of his voice was very coaxing, very convincing. He probably had previous experience seducing the straight and-or deeply closeted. "Just me a chance to show you, ok?"
While he spoke, I distinctly felt a hand on the top of my pants. Personally, I thought the approach was too strong, but since I was determined to get off either way, I didn't stop him. Instead, I breathed loudly – a noble alternative. "But Denn-"
Step Five: Give In
Before I could finish my meaningless plea, Dennis had attacked my mouth with his lips once again, his hand reaching down and cupping my penis in a most pleasant way. I knew I was going to be rather hard rather soon. When I gasped, Dennis took the opportunity to force his tongue into my mouth and moan like the slut he was – digging his face into mine, I loved it.
I didn't give in to him right away. A straight guy – even an easily convincible and bicurious guy wouldn't feel comfortable with that intense of a kiss right away. After a few seconds of Dennis's solo tongue-swirling heat, however, I finally gave in a returned his efforts with a skill that I have often been complimented on. He moaned again. No, it was more like a growl.
With a finesse that made it clear his true sluttiness, Dennis began to undo my pants, single-handedly. When his cold hand found my blazing hot erection, I hissed a bit. "Dennisss. That's my…"
"I know what it is." And then we began to feverishly kiss some more as Dennis decided that the best way to warm up his hand was to give me a hand job. I silently agreed with him on this one.
It wasn't long before Dennis thought it was time to introduce the "straight" boy in the driver's seat next to him about receiving a blowjob from a knowledgeable man. In his awkward twisted position from the passenger seat, it couldn't have been very comfortable for him. It was, however, very comfortable for me. One hand was on the back of Dennis's head, tangling my fingers all in his blond hair, and not feeling bad about forcing him to pick up the speed a little. My other hand was stretched out in front of me, my hand grabbing onto the steering wheel in my intense pleasure induced fist. Fuck, this is hot. Dennis was all up moaning on my cock and I was all up cursing lightly as I watched Dennis's head move up and down with skillful precision, deeply enjoying his well-trained tongue service me in ways I'd forgotten were possible. Oh, this was worth it. Fuck, fuck, fuck –
When I came, Dennis swallowed all of it. I knew he would; he came off as the type of guy that loved semen more than he loved his mother. When he sat back up, he spent a few seconds making sure all my cum was properly taken care of, and then leaned back over to kiss me on my lips once more.
Step Six: Shame, Denial and Escape
Right before he made his mark, I turned my head so he kissed my cheek instead. Obviously displeased, Dennis returned to his seat and faced forward. You always had to insult them a little. "So?"
You were amazing. "I can't believe I just did that. I have a girlfriend." Dennis just watched me silently as I did my usual scripted freak-out, frantically tucking myself back in and zipping up my pants. "Fuck! I can't tell her. I can't tell anyone. Fuck! This never happened. Why did I let you… aw, fuck!"
"I'm so sorry I couldn't please you." A sarcastic roll of the eyes and a door slam later, Dennis had left my car in an angry queenish stomp. When he was out of sight, I let out a sigh and looked in my rear-view mirror to make sure I didn't have "JUST GOT A BLOWJOB" written all over me; I didn't.
As for making Dennis angry, I didn't worry about it. I would never see him again, and after he got over his anger, he'd bask in the pride of sucking off some hot straight guy in his car. He's probably even brag about it to his friends both before and after he broke it off from Mr. Real-World.
Everyone has their favorite thing. My sister's thing is to tell every guy she dates she's a virgin. My protestant friend's thing is to only date Jewish girls, so he can shock them in his uncircumcised nature. My thing is to pretend I'm straight and watch as all my gay suitors try extra hard to seduce me. Eventually, I always give in at the end, and never the boy again; everyone wins. My 'seducer' wins, because he thinks he just took my gay virginity, and I win because once again, I succeeded in my thing.
As I started my car and began to meander my way out of the tight parking spot, my thoughts began to wander to school work I had to complete for tomorrow, how many more miles I could get out of this tank of gas and that I should really give my mom a call before the weekend.
And then I returned back to my apartment, alone.
AN: Yeah. I was drunk when I wrote this! So drunk, I forgot that it's against my policy to put in author notes anymore. They're silly and pointless. But I really thought that I had to defend my dignity by explaining my drunkenness. Does that make sense? It should. I also want praise on how wonderful my editing is when I'm drunk. The squiggly lines of misspelled words and auto-correction are really useful. Words of wisdom? Banana-garlic-bacon "cookies" start to taste good after a while. Since I'm not wearing pants, I can truly say I wrote this story in the mode of 'rock out with my cock out' which is actually a lie because I'm wearing boxers. Maybe I'll be ashamed of this in the morning and take it down.