"What's that area around the guy's ass that makes him come?" I ask.
"You mean the taint?"
"I don't know," I say.
"Between the balls and asshole, right?"
It isn't what you'd call a typical conversation you'd have while cooking pea soup, but for us it isn't unusual. One minute we're exchanging tips on how to make soup stock, the next we're exchanging tips on how to make a man come.
His name is Samuel, and if it weren't for our genders we'd practically be the same person. We're both unable to commit, interested in being known as the best lay on this side of the metropolis and so insecure about these two facts that we have to continually reassure each other that it's okay to be this way. And if it weren't for the fact that he's gay, I probably would've fucked him and dumped him by now. Would he have fucked and dumped me? Who knows?
"It's where the prostate is," he says. "Here, I'll show you."
Before I know it, he has his pants down around his ankles and his ass in my face. I really wasn't expecting to have my soup with a side order of ass crack.
He separates his cheeks with his hands. "Look under here," he instructs. I remain in my seat, amazed that I've been able to focus on his ass crack for as long as I have. I am, however, unsure if I'd be able to do so while down on my knees.
"C'mon," he says. "It's for educational purposes."
The whole scene is bordering on absurdity, yet there I am, dutifully sliding down onto the floor. Admittedly, the prospect of discovering the area that causes a man to explode with ecstasy delights me.
I crank my head upward until I'm face-to-face with what I guess is his taint. Whatever it is, it's furry.
"Can you see it?" he asks.
"All I see is a bunch of hair."
"Hold on," he says, taking his fingers and parting his pubic hair to reveal something wrinkly.
"I see something that looks like chicken skin."
"Good. Now touch it," he says.
"How else are you going to learn? Just put your finger on it and apply pressure. It's okay."
The "it's okay" part of the sentence fails to give me the reassurance I need.
"But... what if I... you know make you come?"
In one swift movement, he lets go of his ass cheeks, pulls his pants up and moves away from me.
"This isn't something I'd do for just anyone, you know," he says.
"Well, I'm embarrassed. I've never been ordered to touch someone's prostate before."
"So you say, but really it's because you're grossed out by me," he says.
We are no longer bordering on absurdity. We are smack dab in the middle of it.
"Oh, fuck off," I say. "If you weren't gay I'd be right in there licking those wrinkles smooth."
I detect a slight softening on his part. I, on the other hand, am getting aggravated. If anyone is going to be insecure about this whole situation, it's going to be me.
"Seriously, I could make you come if I wanted to," I say.
"You probably couldn't even give me an erection."
"If you were straight I could."
I could practically see the idea churning in his head. "Maybe," he says, and after careful consideration, "probably."
I know for Samuel this is a compliment, and for now it becomes a challenge. "Okay. Get your ass over here."
He resumes his position while I extend my index finger. I take a deep breath in and then slowly breath out. Shortly thereafter I hear a whimper. As it dawns on me that it's coming from Samuel he somehow loses his footing and ends up on my face.
With his ass on my forehead, balls on my mouth and taint on the bridge of my nose, I wonder where his dick is. Like everything else, it should've been somewhere on my face - which was at that moment being crushed by his weight.
Samuel immediately rolls off me.
"I'm sorry," he says.
"What happened?" I ask.
"Nothing." He won't look at me.
"What do you mean, nothing? Your balls were just on my face."
"I'm sorry," he repeats. He refuses to say anything more as he pulls his pants up and exits the room.
I, in the meantime, have to stretch, and while doing so check on the pea soup. I see that a thin layer of skin has formed on the top. Maybe it was burnt. I turn the stove off, then move the pot off the element.
Samuel comes back, looking more relaxed. In fact, he looks almost elated.
"You'll be happy to know I just jerked off," he chirps.
"Excuse me?" We've always been open with each other, but this I wasn't expecting.
"You gave me an erection," he says.
"I did?" I've been upgraded from maybe to probably to definitely! "But how? I didn't even touch you."
"No, but you blew on me." When he sees my confusion, he corrects himself. "You exhaled on me."
"Oh," I say, a smile slowly spreading across my face.
He finally turns his attention toward the soup. "This doesn't look good." He takes a fork and starts poking at the layer of skin. "You know what this looks like?"
It doesn't take me long to get what he's saying, and at that moment I silently vow never to make soup with Samuel again.