Brian drives for a few minutes before either of us say anything. I'm not really sure what to say. I'm kind of embarrassed about the mockery. Being characterized as "Jizz-man" is hardly good for my self-esteem. On the flip side, who in hell would want to be Jizz-man's partner? But I'm also … I don't know. This may sound weak, but I like the idea of being protected sometimes. Not all the time. Just sometimes. And if anyone is to attempt it, to try to defend my honor, such as it is, I want it to be Brian, not Tom. Failing that, Brian could at least speak to me in public. I know. I know. He can't. That simple act could wreck his life. I understand. I do. That doesn't mean I like it. That doesn't mean it doesn't hurt.

I imagine that Brian's thinking some of what I'm thinking cause he keeps stealing glances. But every time our eyes meet, he looks away, so I can't read the expression therein.

When one of us finally speaks, it's Brian. He says simply, "I need to make a stop before we go to my house."

I smile softly. "Okay." I'm excited about having sex with Brian again, but I'm still a little too hurt to muster one of my Sunshine smiles. I figure he needs to buy milk or something. Needless to say, I'm shocked when Brian pulls up in front of a bar. With loud dance music coming from it (it's loud even outside), and lots and lots of half-naked men walking around in front and in the alley beside it. Clearly this is a gay bar. I stare at Brian in shock as he gets out. Before shutting the door, he says, "Come on."

What?

I do (get out), but I do so slowly. I creep around the back of the truck and approach Brian, who's in the process of stripping (he took off his shoulder pad thingies and other pads before coming out to the truck after the rally), but now, he's taking off his jersey and changing shoes. When I get close, he pulls me to him and quickly peels his Steelers shirt off of me. Then he pulls me toward the alley and the door to the bar.

"Brian … I … what?" I stammer.

Brian smiles back at me. "Just come on."

I continue to protest, "Do you have a fake ID? Cause I don't have a fake ID."

Brian sighs. I can't hear him do it. The music's too loud, but he sighs so hard that I see his chest heave, even from behind him. He doesn't say anything though. Just keeps pulling me, like a lamb to the slaughter … I start imagining horrible things … being laughed at, being arrested, being spotted by a parent (though I can't imagine my pregnant formerly high-class mother or my stuffy, mean, and most likely homophobic father ever having cause to be here). I'm so lost in my fears that the next thing I know we're up the steps being stared down by a tall built blond man, with an incredible tan, wearing a loin cloth. I think he oiled himself up, too. Either that or his sweat is really, really shiny.

The guy doesn't even blink. He just gestures with his head, indicating that we should go in.

What?

Once inside, I lean close to Brian and ask, "Why didn't he card us?"

Brian laughs. Then he moves his lips right against my ear and whispers, slow and super husky, "Cause we're young and hot." The warm puffs of Brian's breath cause a delicious shiver to wiggle through my body. I'm instantaneously hard. Then Brian's pulling me again. He's been holding my hand the entire time, but now, he threads our fingers together. As we walk through the bar, I look around. It seems like everyone is staring at us. At Brian with hunger and at me with jealousy. I don't see the guys who want me. I feel them. Pinching nipples and squeezing my ass, which is actually framed to great effect in Brian's jeans, since he's taller (a lot), but skinnier (a little) than me. When we reach the other side of the bar, Brian keeps pulling. We go through a tiny door and into … I don't know. It looks like a long hallway with turns. It's hot and dim (and glowing red). And guys are everywhere. Oh my God. They're all … you know … having sex and giving each other blow jobs. Not at the same time, of course. Oh. Nope. There's a threesome doing just that. Brian stops at the first turn. People in the first hallway segment (the one we just walked through) and the second can see us. Some actually turn to watch.

Brian pushes me up against a pillar diagonal from the corner where the two hallway segments meet and then starts undoing my (well his) jeans.

"Brian … what are you doing?"

Brian laughs and shakes his head. "Give it a second. You'll figure it out."

I blush. God I feel stupid. I know what he's doing. I'm just wondering why here, now, in front of all these people we don't know.

But the second I feel his warm breath against my shaft, I no longer care. Brian runs his hands all over my ass, gently and slowly, and just hovers near my dick, breathing, and looking up at me. The sight of him on his knees is enough to bring me to the edge. I pinch my nipple. Some of the guys who did it actually hurt me; I'm hoping the pain will help me keep control. And it might. Or might have. But Brian sees me do it once and then he starts doing it, and … I guess I'm just a slut for him. Any time he touches me, in any way, my body responds, burning, swelling, and bursting. Plan B works okay (biting my lip so hard that it bleeds), but it, too, has unforeseen consequences. Brian stands, leans in, and licks my bottom lip, where it's bleeding. He sucks on that spot gently and then sucks my entire lower lip into his mouth. Then he slides his fingers through my sugary hair, pulls me closer (while also growling softly), and plunges his tongue into my mouth. He spends a good two or three minutes exploring my mouth, plunging his tongue deeper and deeper, drawing me nearer and nearer, and even biting my lips and pulling my hair. When he finally pulls away, Brian's counteracted plan B, a million times over.

Then he's on his knees again. This time, he's less indirect with his ministrations. He licks my shaft, from base to tip, on all sides. He draws his tongue so slowly along it that I shiver, many, many times. He swirls his tongue over the head and then, then, he deepthroats my dick. Seriously, he takes the entire thing into his mouth in one go and then starts sucking hard, bobbing his head up and down fast, so fast. I hold onto the pillar I'm leaning against and close my eyes as wave after wave of heat rushes through me. When Brian slides his hands back around my ass and starts pulling me closer on each downstroke, pushing my dick deeper into his throat and even swallowing around the tip, I moan, loudly (and keep moaning; over and over, I cry out, "Brian, oh fuck, yes, yes, Brian.") And clench my right hand so that my nails are digging into my skin. I never want this to end, but I'm so close. Any second I'll erupt. And when Brian starts humming, that's exactly what I do. I shut my eyes tight, shout, "Ohhhh, ohhhhhh, ohhhhhhhhh!" and explode into his mouth, with a force I don't think I've ever managed before. Afterward, my chest is heaving and my heart beating so fast I'm afraid that it, too, might explode. I let my eyes flutter open. The first thing I see is Brian still on his knees, licking his lips. God. I don't think I've ever seen anything sexier.

Brian stands then and pulls my (well, his) jeans up and then buttons and zips them, all the while laying soft, slow open-mouthed kisses along my neck. He takes my hand, threads our fingers together, and then starts pulling me out of the hallway room.

I protest (ironic, on the way in and the way out), "Wait, but … don't you want me to …"

Brian stops, leans in, and whispers, "I fully expect you to reciprocate. At my house."

"I don't understand."

"This was for you, just you, because I … nothing." He kisses my cheek sweetly (even looking at me a little sweetly) and then starts leading me out again.

Like I said, one touch and Brian has me burning, swelling, and bursting. Even my heart.

TBC…