I Let Him Face-fuck me for Love

People typically had their minds made up about me before they'd even met me.

That was the problem with being a gay guy in a Canadian town small enough to be the setting for a Stephen King novel. Ours was the kind of town that a tour guide could only give a scant description to, a fact which many residents, with their Protestant upbringing, took pride in.

If pressed to provide a more fulsome description, the tour guide would likely look around, nervous, spot me, and declare:

"Behold! Elrye, Canada's only homosexual!"

Elrye had three homosexuals, but they didn't command the same infamy.

Not that I had sought infamy. Until a few months ago, I was so forgettable that my parents had a running gag where they would pretend to get my name wrong.

Edward? Elric? Dave?

It's Eric, by the way.

Anyway, I embraced my anonymity. Nothing good could come from being the main attraction in a town that had been the last to outlaw hanging. While the town's politics had progressed tremendously since then, I fully intended to keep a low profile until I had enough money to live alone when I matriculated.

But then Marcus Cooper came to town.

Marcus Cooper was the leader of an environmental impacts team that our mayor had invited after some big oil company had shown interest in the land just north of our town. This was before the Trucker Convoy but around the same time when rumors of Canada's "lost decade" were finally reaching small towns. We weren't smart enough to know if, or how, Marcus was culpable for the lost decade, but that he was from Ottawa was sufficient, in our minds, to hold him responsible.

Somehow, Marcus persuaded everyone to think otherwise. He faced insults with compliments and snarls with smiles. Once, Ol' Cranky Delores hurled a racial slur at Marcus (he was black) on his way to the gas station. A few days later, she gushed to anyone who would listen about how he had helped her fix the stair railings leading into her backyard after her son had delayed the work for the fifth time.

Marcus quickly had everyone under his spell.

I think I liked Marcus the most.

I took every chance I could get to talk with him, a fact which elicited several laughs from his subordinates. But, Marcus never showed that he was in any way uncomfortable with my obvious boy crush. When I tried to flirt with him, which I knew I did poorly, he would laugh politely and put his arm around me in a way that seemed intimate to me but was likely platonic to everybody else.

When it was time for Marcus and his team to submit their report to Ottawa, Elrye held a small party for him and his team. Although they had only been with us for a couple of months, it felt as if we were losing longtime residents.

A fact about small-townsfolk is that we know how to throw a party. People danced and sang and had competitions of strength. I sought out Marcus pretty early on but intended to meet up with him later on in the party after seeing a group of people trying to get their last goodbyes with him.

But then he noticed me and waved me over. He and some others were sitting on a log. A lady was cuddling into him, which he didn't seem to appreciate but was too nice to reproach her for. Instead, he asked if I would sit next to him. I agreed and heard him sigh in relief when I replaced the woman who had probably hoped would have gotten some BBC that night. I suppressed my laugh.

I was having so much fun talking to Marcus. The hours went by quickly. I also couldn't help but notice the warmth of his hand on my thigh. It had initially been on my knee but had trailed up my leg the more inebriated Marcus became.

By this time, most people had gone home. The only people left were some members of Marcus's crew and a few of my work friends. Everyone was completely hammered--including me. The universe seemed to collapse entirely on just Marcus and I.

"God, Eric, make yourself less obvious, why don't you?" Someone joked.

We all laughed. It was an open secret now that I had a crush on Marcus and I guess I had been staring mindlessly at his face.

"Gay guys can have at least one straight crush in their life," I said, which the heavily inebriated group found just hilarious.

"What about one straight fuck?" Someone asked.

Everyone laughed at the obvious joke, but when I looked at Marcus he was not laughing. He wasn't even smiling. He just looked off mindlessly, as if in serious contemplation.

I became embarrassed. Had the joking gone too far? Was he now ashamed to be with me? I opened my mouth to make some wry comment about Marcus's skills with the ladies when he cut me off.

"What about one straight blowjob?" He asked.

The laughter just... stopped. Marcus sounded so serious, even in his drunken state. People exchanged nervous glances. They were waiting to see how I would respond.

"Just one," I said, as casually as I could.

I felt my heart hammering against my rib cage as Marcus unzipped his pants to reveal his cock. He looked to be semi-hard already.

I pursed my lips. I wanted very much for Marcus to like me but I had never just gone down on a near-stranger before, and certainly not in front of an audience.

I took his penis experimentally in my hands. It pulsed at my touch. And then, without further thought, I hunched over Marcus's knee to lick the head of his penis. It was salty and I could taste a bit of piss. Otherwise, it wasn't bad.

More confident, I got down from the log to kneel before Marcus.

Someone screamed gleefully at my brazenness. Someone else shouted, "Go, Eric!"

I pressed my tongue flat against the back of Marcus's shaft and followed a vein to his frenulum. He moaned his encouragement as I sucked his head and jerked his shaft. He started bucking his hips. I tried to stop him from bucking but he easily overpowered me so I just let him use my throat like a pocket pussy.

Tears sprung to my eyes as he started pistoning his cock down my throat. It hurt like a bitch but I sucked it up.

Behind me, our small group had grown quiet. I felt their eyes watch as Marcus abused my mouth.

The only person who was talking, in fact, was Marcus.

And it was just a lot of filth.

"Yeah, you like that BBC, don't you, white boy," he said, "You wanna get that black seed."

His words embarrassed and aroused me in equal measure.

His pre-cum leaked like a faucet and I could tell he was about to nut.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," he groaned, and pushed my face down, forcing me to take his impressive member to the base. I couldn't breathe. I tried to push his hands away but I couldn't pry his fingers off the back of my head. And then, his warm seed sprayed down my throat. The amount was so incredible that it leaked from my nose.

And just as | I was about to pass out, he let me go.

I took in lungfuls of air--sweet, sweet air. I was also coughing and hacking up spit and cum. Marcus seemed utterly oblivious to my plight, simply basking in his post-nut clarity.

Stunned, I turned to see if anyone had noticed that Marcus had nearly suffocated me--but no one was paying attention anymore.

Aroused by my performance, they had all found partners to kiss or suck. A few people had also left--to fuck, I imagine.

Under other circumstances, I would have gotten an instant hard-on, but I just felt empty. I politely excused myself, took another look at Marcus--who was already trying to join one of the couples--and left.

Marcus and his crew departed the following morning. My parents asked if I wanted to say goodbye to them but I told them that I had already said my goodbyes at the party. I could tell they knew something was up but I wasn't ready to talk about it. And what would I say?

My first, real crush just wanted to get a quick BJ?

It turned out that I didn't have to say anything at all. Several days after Marcus left, rumors quickly circulated that I had given Marcus crazy head in front of a group of people. The rumor seemed to completely ignore the fact that others had been about to start fucking each other right before I left.

But the damage had been done: everyone knew that I had seduced Marcus Cooper.

I was fortunate that my family were some of the town's few generational residents (my grandfather was born in this town, and his grandfather, and his...). Otherwise, the residents might be more keen to let me know what they thought about my homosexual escapade.

But, having deep roots in the town meant that the worst I ever got was some disappointed frowns (mostly from Ol' Cranky Delores).

The most common reaction I got was from women who asked me what it was like to suck off The Marcus Cooper. Now and again, straight men would proposition me.

Only most of them were joking.

My renown had not subsided in the slightest even several months after the incident. If anything, the story grew the fantastical add-ons congenital to rumors. I hadn't just sucked Marcus off. I had let him fuck me. He had let me fuck him. Marcus wasn't a cis man; he was transgender.

My parents couldn't make jokes about people forgetting my name anymore. Now I was the most famous resident in Elrye, Canada.

I almost had enough money to live on campus at a nearby college. If I could avoid any further trouble before matriculating, then maybe my infamy would subside when I visited next summer.

This was the new plan. Just stay out of trouble.

Then Dylan Duncan's prospecting team came to town.

But that's a story for another time.