Lavish Didi Stories - The straight Batman

Author’s note: All my characters are consenting adults (18+). All sexual acts depicted are consensual between the adult characters.

Halloween season. The bonfire was too hot for a cape, so Batman was just a mask and a ripped body. Batman was actually my best friend’s older brother.

Azi’s parents had the country house for the weekend and had left the key in the fake rock like we were still seventeen. Azi wanted a Halloween party that looked like a film still. Actors, he said. We’re actors. Twenty-three and a headshot that had gotten me one callback and him none, which he was handling by inviting forty people and a fog machine that died in the first hour.

I came as nothing. Black clothes. A cheap half-mask I took off by the fire because it itched. Azi was a vampire with the teeth in his pocket. His brother came late.

Blake.

Engaged. Hilary in another city for a work thing she couldn’t move. He had texted Azi that he was only staying an hour and then he stayed, because the fire was good and the cooler was full of beer and nobody at the house was going to tell the engaged brother to put a shirt on. Most of the guests were gay.

Bleached hair, grown out at the root, the dark mustache and eyebrows that didn’t match the hair and made the mismatch better. Chest still wet from the heat, or from a beer he’d poured on himself as a joke and not wiped off. Patterned shorts. A white bead bracelet. The Batman mask pushed up on his forehead and then down again when somebody yelled that costumes were mandatory.

I had known him since Azi and I were fifteen. He was the straight one. The one who did the driveway, the one who had a fiancée, the one who used to call us the theater kids and mean it as a door he didn’t open. At the fire he sat on the low wall next to me because the other seats were taken, and the mask made it easier to look at his mouth.

“Hilary hates this holiday,” he said. “Says it’s an excuse for people to be weird. She’s not wrong.”

“Yet you’re still here in a mask.”

“I’m in a mask because your best friend said I’d get booed if I showed up as a guy in shorts.” He drank. The fire moved on his chest. “You two still doing the acting thing?”

“Trying.”

“She asked me once if Azi was going to bring you to the wedding. I said probably. She said that’s fine.” He looked at the fire, not at me. “You swallow?”

I turned my head. Batman. The mask was down. I couldn’t see his eyes well.

“What?” I was appalled by the question.

“Cum. You swallow it. Azi said something once, years ago, drunk, and I never asked him because he’s my brother and that’s a door I don’t open. I’m asking you. Do you.”

The fire popped. Somebody laughed on the other side of the yard. I should have laughed too and stood up.

“Sometimes,” I said. “If I want to.”

“What’s it taste like?”

“Blake, what the fuck? Are you drunk and mocking me?”

“I’m asking. Genuinely curious. Hilary won’t. I asked her. Once. She tried and threw up on the bathroom floor and cried and said never again, and I said okay, and I meant it, and I still think about it. Not her throwing up. The other part. Somebody taking it and keeping it. Telling me what I taste like. I don’t have that. I have a fiancée who loves me and a thing she can’t do, and I’m at a Halloween party with my brothers gay friends because she’s in another city. So. What’s it taste like?”

I looked at his mouth under the mask. The thick perfectly trimmed mustache. The way he said it like he was asking for a train time.

“Salt, sweet. It depends of the guy.” I said. “Bitter if the guy drinks or smokes. Thick. It sits on the tongue. Some of it is nothing, some of it is the man. You don’t know until it’s in your mouth.”

He nodded. Once. Like I’d given him a note on a scene.

“Huh.”

Azi appeared with two cups and the vampire teeth in. “Are you corrupting my brother?”

“He’s corrupting me.” Blake said, and took a cup, and the mask stayed down, and the subject died in the fire.

I went inside. I stood in the kitchen with a warm beer and my pulse in my teeth. Azi found me and asked if I was good. I said the fire was hot. He believed me because he wanted to believe the party was working.

An hour later Blake was in the hallway by the basement door. Mask up now. Face bare. The bleached hair messed from the heat. He didn’t touch me. He stood with his hands in the pockets of the shorts and spoke like the awkward part was already behind us, which it wasn’t.

“So.. can you swallow me? One time,” he said. “Not a thing. Not a secret you tell my brother. I want to know what I taste like. You already know how to do it. Hilary can’t. I’m not asking you to date me. I’m asking you to swallow and then tell me. Joke, if you need it to be a joke. I’m still engaged in the morning.”

I should have said no. I looked at the fit chest, the mustache, the bracelet, the body I had not been allowed to look at for eight years because he was Azi’s brother and he was straight and he was somebody’s fiancé.

“Once.” I said.

“My parent’s wine cellar. They don’t go down there during parties. Lock’s broken in the good way.”

The stairs were narrow. The cellar smelled like wet stone and cork. A single bulb. Racks. A plastic table the parents used for labeling. He shut the door. He didn’t lock it. He leaned on the table and looked at me like he was checking I was still the person from the fire.

“You can leave.”

“I know.”

“I don’t want it rough. I want to see you take it. That’s the whole thing. She never let me see. She turned her head.”

I got on my knees on the concrete. He pushed the shorts down just enough. No ceremony. He was half-hard already, trimmed pubes, thick, the head bare, a drop at the slit from the talking or from the hour he’d spent not saying it again. I took him in my hand first. He breathed out through his nose.

“Fuck. Okay. Yeah.”

I sucked him. Slow, because he had said he didn’t want it rough, I guess he was afraid of cumming to fast, and because I wanted the mustache and the bleached hair in my sightline when I looked up. He held the edge of the table. He didn’t grab my head. His stomach tightened. The taste of his skin was clean sweat and beer. He got fully hard in my mouth, heavy on my tongue, and he watched. That was the point. He watched my lips. He watched my throat move.

“Tell me if you’re gonna swallow my cum, Luca.” he said, voice lower. “I need to hear it before.”

“I’m going to swallow.”

“Say it again.”

“I’m going to swallow your fucking cum, Blake.”

His hand hovered, then settled in my hair, not pushing. “Okay. Don’t spill it. I want it in you. I want you to have an opinion.”

I worked him until his thigh shook against my cheek. He warned me with a broken “now, now,” and I stayed on him. 

“Just swallow my fucking cum, boy. All of it. Take it.” My best friend’s brother was ejaculating in my mouth. He came in my mouth violently. Cock pulsating. Hot, bitter, thick, pulse after pulse on my tongue, and I didn’t pull off. I held it. He stared. His mouth open. The Batman mask on his face, useless.

When he finished I open my moth to show him and then closed my lips and swallowed. Once. Then again, because there was more than one mouthful. I opened and showed him it was empty.

“Gone, I swallowed.” I said.

He laughed, short, wrecked, a hand over his own mouth.

“What’s it taste like?”

“Bitter. Beer. Salty. Thick. It coated my tongue. Not bad. You taste like you smell up close. I’d know it was you.”

He nodded. He pulled the shorts up. He looked at the door like Azi might be on the other side and wasn’t.

“That’s the thing,” he said. “That’s the whole thing. Thank you. Don’t tell him. Hilary doesn’t hear this. I still love her. I just needed somebody to keep it.”

“Once.” I said.

“Once. Thank you dude, you really did it. I appreciate it.”

He was Batman again, chest still bare, walking up into the noise of his brother’s party. I stayed on the concrete until my knees hurt, the taste of him still there, and then I swallowed one more time out of habit, to be sure, and went up to tell Azi the fire had gotten into my clothes.