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The GreenMount Chronicles, Chapter 3 "Calvin and Leon"

Cal knew he wasn't the brightest guy on the planet, or even along the lazy little road where he lived, but he knew that something wasn't right in his life. Perhaps he had known it from the start, and he had just been too reluctant to admit it to himself. After all, he wasn't some genius like Chuck from his algebra class, or even very funny, like that guy Roger; he was just a big, dumb baseball playing dalmatian in his Junior year of high school. Yet, even though he had neither the right nor the ability to question his life or the motives of other people, he knew something wasn't quite right around him.

Calvin Stein sat down heavily on the edge of his bed, his five foot nine, one hundred forty pound frame making the mattress dip slightly. He rested his white-furred elbows on his knees and leaned over, cupping his canine face in his hands. His sky-blue eyes were shut, and a sigh escaped him from deep in his well-developed chest. He wore no shirt, baring his smooth, milky shoulders and his thin, spotted back. The jeans that hugged his hips stopped just below the knees, revealing a powerful set of calves. He was a thin guy, with subtle, supple muscles beneath his fur, but his legs were strong from all the time he spent training and jogging.

Just two hours ago Leon Markam had been standing before him. Leon the class all-star, in his senior year, with his charming golden leonine eyes, his winning smile, his thick lion's mane that fell onto his big shoulders, and his brand name clothes, who never would have bothered giving Calvin a second glance two months ago. Leon had stood before him two hours ago, while Calvin sat there on the edge of the bed, a thousand butterflies colliding in his stomach, looking up at him.

Cal supposed he would never forget what the big lion had said to him. Not as long as he lived.

Leon had been slowly unfastening his belt, pulling the thick black leather out of the buckle. Giving Calvin his big, warm grin, he'd said, "I've been wanting this all day. How much do you charge?"

At those words Calvin froze. "Whatta you mean?" he asked. But he knew what Leon meant. Leon had unbuckled his belt, and now he was unzipping the fly of his khaki slacks, lifting the front of his shirt with his other hand, showing off a trail of golden abs, and a thick ruff of darker fur that ran down below his navel, disappearing into the waistband of his black silk boxers.

"I've only got like, sixteen bucks with me," said Leon, as he pulled apart the fly of his pants, exposing the silk black fabric that encased a big, thick bulge. His voice was growing distant, almost husky. Then, for the first time since he had approached Calvin two days ago, he sounded slightly unsure of himself. "S...should I take it out, or will you?"

It was all happening so fast! Calvin felt panic work its way up his spine. Here was Leon Markam, easily the most popular guy in the school, always with a girl on each arm. Here he was, standing before him with his legs slightly parted and his pants open, waiting for a blowjob. This in itself was pretty amazing.

Leon had been so friendly to Calvin earlier that day. The big lion had taken him out to lunch, talked with him, laughed with him, and then gently insisted that Calvin take him to his place. So, fifteen minutes ago they both walked into Calvin's bedroom, with its teal blue carpet, its second-hand wooden furniture, and its sports posters on the wall.

Calvin knew what was expected of him. He would give Leon some head, make him squirm, moan, and cry out (they always did, even the quiet ones; Cal took it as a compliment), and then Leon would zip up, thank him and perhaps he would stay for a little while (sometimes they would stay and chat; Lance the cat had stayed long enough to take a nap).

"Are you going to do it or not?" Leon asked, a touch of anxiety crawling into his voice. It hadn't been very long at all, not more than ten seconds, but Leon wasn't feeling terribly patient. When Calvin didn't answer his original question, he reached into the slit of his boxers, and tugged out the long, thick erection that was concealed within. He just slipped it out for him, as though that would help him decide.

He looked at Leon's lionmeat. It was about seven inches long, and thick. The golden sheath was pulled back from the pinkish flesh, revealing the smooth, veined surface, which throbbed slightly. The head was plump and round, the vertical slit seeming to stare at him. It reminded Calvin of the surface of a fruit-- smooth, luscious and inviting. It was one of the nicer ones he'd seen over the past couple of months. Jutting out from between his legs, it was a sexy thing, a thing Calvin wanted, despite his growing shame.

Slightly higher, Leon ran one big hand over his flat, muscled stomach, sometimes lifting it to his chest, where Calvin could see a pink nipple among the carpet of fur on the golden mounds of his pecs.

Then Calvin heard himself talking again, but his voice was far away. Surely it was someone else speaking, not him. "Y... yeah," he said. "It's okay, I don't want you to pay me."

Leon sighed breathily, and he grinned. "You want to blow me for free then?" he soothed.

Calvin lifted his right hand and curled his palm under the big male shaft, feeling the silky skin. Looking up at Leon, and feeling at the same time weak and in control, he said softly, "No man, I'm doing this because I like you. You're... you're my friend, aren't you?"

But he knew how the lion would answer. It was always the same: after he touched their cocks they would say anything. It was how guys worked. Get them excited, and their brain goes to mush. This is what made him feel powerful. He now had Leon's undivided attention, and the ability to please him. In a way, Leon needed him. He wanted to get sucked off-- wanted it very badly in order to jeopardize his reputation as the class stud. If anyone suspected Leon was getting blown by a closet fag, he would be shunned.

Yet, just as Calvin had Leon by the balls, Leon (as well as all the others who had come to him) had power over him as well. Calvin was alone in the world, save his parents. There were no friends, and no close relatives whom he could convince himself were. These guys who lined up for his velvety mouth ("You make the fuckin' room spin," Lance once told him.) were the only affection he got. As well as the only outlet for the tremendous sexual energy that coursed through him.

Leon smiled down at him, and there was both tremendous warmth and a thick haze of lust in his eyes. It gave a very sexy twist to his High School hearthrob look. "Yeah, I'm your friend," he murmured blissfully. "You're my buddy, Cal."

Calvin felt a surge of heat rush through him. It was something like being on fire inside, only it felt wonderful. Perhaps he had a crush on Leon. He looked at the lion, saw his big muscles and his photogenic smile, saw the way everyone fell all over him, and he thought, 'You have all the things I ever wanted, and you're gorgeous.'

He moved his hand slowly back and forth, caressing the hard cock in his hand, feeling it twitch with pleasure. 'Fine,' he thought. 'You're probably gonna walk out after this, and I can't stop you... but I can give you something you'll never forget, pal. I can make the room spin.'

And with that, he leaned forward, pressed his lips to the tip of the shaft, to that thin vertical slit, and began to suck Leon off.

* * *

That had been two hours ago. Calvin sat alone on his bed, remembering clearly the taste and feel of the lion's penis, and the thick smell of his sex. It was undeniably erotic, and more of a turn-on than Calvin liked to admit to himself.

The shape of his muzzle gave him a big advantage. It was long and slender, as was his big, wet tongue. With each experience he learned how to do the job more efficiently. It wasn't difficult; pleasuring a guy is easy once you know his little quirks, the little things he likes.

That was what really mattered, after all: getting the job done. Nothing else was very important; the only thing of any significance was what happened during the great silence: after conversation and before they left.

Despite all the faked dirty talk in porn movies, or in those cheap sex stories on the Internet, there is often a long space during the sex act where no words are spoken. In Calvin's experience this took place after the initial touch, when the rhythm began. It was a wordless time filled instead with soft, wet sounds that seemed very loud in the sudden lack of conversation. It was what Calvin remembered more than anything else about his encounters. With Leon, for example, it had taken less than five minutes, but he would remember it for years.

* * *

"Ohhh fuck," Leon whispered shakily. Calvin slid forward, opening his mouth and feeling the hard, throbbing length sliding along his wet tongue. He relaxed his jaw and tongue, letting his slick muzzle naturally conform to the rubbery shaft. He had learned early on to relax himself. Taking a cock when he was tensed was the best way to make himself sore and kill the whole experience.

Besides, usually he had to do little more than just work back and forth, slathering his big tongue over the silky flesh, gently sucking until its owner went into the throes of climax. He liked to put variation into it, but basically that's what it was: giving a tongue-bath. Polishing the knob.

That was when the quiet settled over the room like a thick blanket. Leon stood there, rubbing his chest, the sound of fingers in fur making a soft rasping sound. His breathing was deep and slow (Calvin noticed it was deeper than his own), sighing an occasional soft moan.

Calvin sat there with seven inches of throbbing manhood hilted in his mouth, sliding his tongue back and forth. It rubbed along the bottom, teasing friction, slippery, like two guys trying to wrestle in warm oil. As he did this, he moved back and forth, swallowing the cock until his nose touched Leon's black boxers, then backing off a few inches.

That was the key-- friction, the sensation of rubbing. Sure, they loved it wet and warm, they loved it in the mouth, or in a wet, slicked up hand, but it all came down to stroking, that sensation of fucking something, that drove them nuts.

Calvin didn't rock back and forth very much. He let Leon find his own pace-- they liked to have some control over it, usually. Before long, the big lion, High School boy-toy Leon Markam was swaying a little, pushing his member into the heat that bathed it. Guys loved to fuck things with their cocks, and that didn't change whether they were straight or bi or gay. The trick to getting straight guys to take head was to make it feel so good that they didn't care whether it was a guy or a girl.

As Calvin sucked and tugged on it, he made quiet slurping sounds, or occasional soft, wet clicks as the big slab of meat shifted around inside his mouth. These moist sounds also seemed loud, accompanied by Calvin's breathing.

Incredible tension was building in the room. Those little suckling sounds and the quiet time that was passing along both carried unspoken thoughts with them.

'You're letting another guy suck your cock,' the silence whispered to Leon. 'There's a guy sitting in front of you, and your dick in his mouth, rubbing over his long tongue, making a lump in his cheeks. What are you going to do about it?'

But all this was accompanied by pleasure. Gripping, burning pleasure. He kept trying to picture all the girls he'd ever fucked, especially Monique with the nice tits... but he kept looking down and seeing a guy sucking his cock, and hearing those little sounds, those wet licking sounds... damn, it felt good.

And so during the silence, when he realized what was going on, and he thought, 'What are you going to do about it?' He answered himself, with both fear and lust, 'I'm not going to do anything about it. I'm just going to stand here and let it happen, because it feels to fucking good.'

Leon moaned softly and languidly, one long, drawn out 'nnnnnnn'. At first he had held back his voice, almost held his breath for fear of what was happening... but he had realized it, and now, with the intense feelings, that devastating suction on his cock and the swirling, moving wetness of the mouth, he didn't care.

Seconds stretched into minutes, rolling over one another, pulled tighter and tighter with the tension in the room, and the mounting need in Leon's hot blood.

Calvin sucked, worked his jaw and tugged on the cock. He felt the elastic pressure in the air pulling taut, ready to snap. Leon bent his knees, hunching over a bit more, and his breath was ragged.

Occasionally the big lion would growl or swear, or he'd moan softly. He was getting louder and more vicious. His swaying became thrusting, fucking the mouth before him. He was heating up like a steam train, his stomach tensing, his mouth dropping open.

Suddenly the tension broke, snapped in two, and rich, wild pleasure rushed through his cock. It was like a hot stab right in his loins, overwhelming. His mind overloaded and his body tensed up as his big dick throbbed, with delicious pleasure, and gripped tight, spurting out his man juice, and Calvin kept sucking, pushing him further over the edge harder and harder and---

"Ffffuccck!" Leon snarled, tossing his head back. "FFFUCK!" This time it came out as more of a loud, distracted sigh.

Calvin held the cock in his mouth, looking up at Leon. He could feel it jumping and tensing up in his muzzle, throbbing, on his tongue. It spurted once, jetting hot and salty stuff, and Cal swallowed it, his throat tugging on the head of Leon's cock.

Leon was growling, his normally grinning face contorted with pleasure that looked so much like exquisite pain. His right hand was clenched, his fingers buried in his thick golden hair. His left was behind Calvin's head, encouraging him...

But then Calvin felt Leon's fingers grab his hair and yank him back. The next moment he was leaning back, watching Leon rapidly stroking his shaft, firing out a thick spray of cum onto his chest, leaving ropes and dots of semen on his shirt.

His hand worked extremely fast, and then it slowed down as the throbbing and tensing subsided. Once again Leon was simply breathing heavy, but now much more slowly.

Calvin always felt a moment of terror, relief, and dread when they came.

Terror was from the way they reacted-- Leon was growling and vicious, making loud noises that sounded full of rage. The relief came because Cal knew he had done a good job. They always cried out, even the ones who tried not to.

His job was done, and the rest was easy. Then there was the dread, because they were never the same after they shot their loads. It was like they became different people. Whether or not they were friendly before, they were almost always distant afterward. There had been a few exceptions (Big Mike and Lance), but he always dreaded it, because when they left he would be alone again.

Several seconds passed while Leon held his drooling prick and Cal stared at it. He'd never been yanked off at the moment of climax like that. He knew the surface of the penis got very sensitive just after orgasm, so perhaps it had just been too much.

Finally one of them did something to break the silence. Leon slipped his cock back into his pants and zipped up the fly. Cal looked up at him, but Leon wouldn't meet his gaze. Reaching into the pocket of his tan slacks, the lion pulled out a black wallet, and fumbled some cash out of it.

Leon gave Calvin the money, sort of tossing the bills at him. "Here," he muttered, and he turned away, and seemed ready to walk (or bolt outright) through the door.

Calvin stood up. "I don't want your money," he said, feeling a lump in his throat that had nothing to do with the blowjob he'd just given. "I told you it wasn't for money."

He wanted to sound angry, but he couldn't quite manage it. He just felt hurt. They always walked away in the end. All the people who seemed like his friends, all they wanted was to get their rocks off.

Leon stopped in the doorway to his bedroom, and he glanced back out of the corner of his eye.

"Look," he said softly. "If you like to suck cock and all, that's fine. But I'm not into it. I'm the class hero. I'm on the football team, and I've been with a lot of girls. You helped me out just now, and that's cool. So just take the money and don't tell anyone about it."

Cal looked down, dejected. It wasn't so much that Leon was rejecting him. What hurt him so much was that *everyone* eventually rejected him. One straight guy after the other... they seemed friendly, but they walked out in a hurry once they realized what they were doing.

"D... didja ever like me at all?" he found himself asking. It sounded pathetic, but he waited for the answer nonetheless. He felt very young and foolish. Leon was older and more popular. Normally he wouldn't even associate with someone like Cal. He could no more hang out with a fag than he could a shy kid from eleventh grade. They had been together for a time, and now it was over.

When he looked up again, Leon was gone.

* * *

And now, two hours later, Calvin Stein, lonely high school junior, sat on his bed, trying to sort things out. He had taken off his wet shirt and thrown it in the laundry. It wasn't the first time someone had cum on his clothes. At least it washed out.

They always left him after they came.

This had happened to him many times recently. Far, far too often to be a coincidence. Especially considering how homophobic the guys in his high school were. Yet they had come to him, one at a time, friendly for a while, and then insistent later, always insistent, as though he owed them a 'favor' for all the time they had so generously spent with him. It was a moderately large high school, eight hundred students, and so far eleven of them had approached Calvin. A majority were considered 'straight' guys.

This should have set alarms off in his head. Some part of him knew it wasn't a coincidence that almost a dozen times, guys had approached him, friendly and smiling (though usually a little apprehensive), and in the end, asking him gently for a 'favor' in return. It wasn't just most of them. Every one of those eleven guys had, in the end, asked him to give head. Sometimes it was subtle, and sometimes it wasn't.

The resolution he sought for simply wasn't there. Any excuse was plausible as the next; perhaps the first guy he'd been with had secretly told someone else, and then he had told someone else, and so on. Or perhaps it was something about Cal's appearance. He was attractive in a gentle way. Or perhaps these things happened all the time, and no one told him. After all, there is more going on in the world than people often realize.

Most of this he could overlook. Yes, it hurt that all of the great guys simply walked away, but the sting of that was secondary. What bothered him most was Leon's money.

"He thinks I'm a whore," Cal said softly to himself.

He thought about this for a while. To the best of his knowledge, he wasn't prostituting himself. Not for money, anyway. He realized that his sexual escapades were largely in exchange for friendship, companionship he sorely lacked. He considered it. Perhaps he was only angry at Leon because Leon preferred giving him money to attention, when attention was what he wanted.

He realized for the first time that, when it came to the guys who approached him, he never thought to say No. Sometimes, he realized, the thing which feels good at the moment is not the best course of action in the long run.

Having the knowledge didn't save him, however. What would he do the next time a guy approached him, looking for a blowjob? He knew he would probably do it.

Cal lowered his head and sighed, feeling the terrible weight of the knowledge that there are some doors which, once opened, are not simple at all to close.

This is not the end of his story.