Two Thousand Pounds Per Square Inch (The Russel Middlebrook Series Book 5) by Brent Hartinger Page B
Authors: Brent Hartinger
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time for antibodies to form—up to three months. What this test today is really saying is what your status was three months ago."
That was good news if I was negative. I hadn't had sex in months. I guess a shitty love life had some advantages. Although there was a potential new guy, Wade, which is partly why I'd come to this clinic in the first place.
"So," he said. "I was hoping I could talk to you about safer sex."
He wanted to talk about sex? Here? Now? Nobody said we'd be talking about sex! Between waiting for my HIV test results and now having to talk about sex, I wasn't sure I'd ever be able to breathe again.
He sat down in a swivel chair across from a small sofa.
"How about I just go over the basics?" he said. "Then you can ask me any questions, okay?"
I wanted to tell him, "I already know all about safer sex!" Problem is, if you can't breathe, you can't talk.
And then I thought, Do I know all about safer sex? Isn't it just using a condom when you fuck? Or is there more to it than that?
I was still having a hard time breathing, but I was also kind of curious. So I took a seat on that sofa.
"First the good news," Brent said. "HIV is really hard to catch, and it's really easy to avoid."
I squirmed. It was one of those Ikea sofas that look good, but where it's impossible to get comfortable.
"You might already know that when a guy is infected with HIV, the virus gets into his blood and his cum and precum. The only way for the virus to infect someone else is if that blood or that cum gets into the blood of another person. Does that make sense?"
I squirmed some more. Had this forty-something guy really just said the word "cum" to a teenager?
"So when it comes to sex," Brent said, "to keep from getting infected, you just need to make sure that another guy’s blood or cum or pre-cum doesn’t get inside your bloodstream. There are a lot of things you can do sexually that have basically no risk of that at all. You can kiss and stroke and jerk a guy off, you can lick a guy all over, even his balls and cock, provided you don’t get his cum or pre-cum into your mouth or in cuts or sores. And you can dry-fuck. That’s when you rub your dick against another guy's crotch or butt, but the dick doesn't go inside. The only absolutely sure way to avoid transmitting HIV is to not have sex, but you can do all the things I just mentioned, and you don’t really have to worry about HIV at all. Oh, but gay guys shouldn't share razor blades or toothbrushes."
And I’d been embarrassed by the word "cum"? Had this guy really said all that about licking a guy’s cock and balls, and dry-fucking? Suddenly, the pressure on my head and lungs increased by another thousand or so pounds per square inch.
At the same time, I couldn't help but remember the very first time I'd had sex. It had been more than a year ago, with Kevin Land, the first guy I'd ever dated.
The air was cold on my skin.
Kevin and I were out in the woods, under the stars, and our shirts were off and our pants and underwear were down around our ankles. We'd been kissing for a while, but now we just faced each other, staring, taking each other in.
There was dark hair on his chest, not a lot, but some. Meanwhile, the hair in his crotch was thick and black, a lot thicker than mine. But there was one mystery even the thick night shadows of that crotch could not contain: his dick pointing right up at me.
We were both hard.
I reached out and touched him. It was the first time I'd ever touched a cock other than my own. I could feel it pulsing in my hand — it was surprisingly warm. It was both very familiar yet totally alien. I'd never touched a dick from this angle. And my dick wasn't really anything like his.
We were both about the same size, although his was thicker. It stuck up more too, in almost a perfect arch. Mine angled up too, but the shaft itself was straight.
I wanted to be looking at two places at once, into his eyes, and also down at his dick. But
That was good news if I was negative. I hadn't had sex in months. I guess a shitty love life had some advantages. Although there was a potential new guy, Wade, which is partly why I'd come to this clinic in the first place.
"So," he said. "I was hoping I could talk to you about safer sex."
He wanted to talk about sex? Here? Now? Nobody said we'd be talking about sex! Between waiting for my HIV test results and now having to talk about sex, I wasn't sure I'd ever be able to breathe again.
He sat down in a swivel chair across from a small sofa.
"How about I just go over the basics?" he said. "Then you can ask me any questions, okay?"
I wanted to tell him, "I already know all about safer sex!" Problem is, if you can't breathe, you can't talk.
And then I thought, Do I know all about safer sex? Isn't it just using a condom when you fuck? Or is there more to it than that?
I was still having a hard time breathing, but I was also kind of curious. So I took a seat on that sofa.
"First the good news," Brent said. "HIV is really hard to catch, and it's really easy to avoid."
I squirmed. It was one of those Ikea sofas that look good, but where it's impossible to get comfortable.
"You might already know that when a guy is infected with HIV, the virus gets into his blood and his cum and precum. The only way for the virus to infect someone else is if that blood or that cum gets into the blood of another person. Does that make sense?"
I squirmed some more. Had this forty-something guy really just said the word "cum" to a teenager?
"So when it comes to sex," Brent said, "to keep from getting infected, you just need to make sure that another guy’s blood or cum or pre-cum doesn’t get inside your bloodstream. There are a lot of things you can do sexually that have basically no risk of that at all. You can kiss and stroke and jerk a guy off, you can lick a guy all over, even his balls and cock, provided you don’t get his cum or pre-cum into your mouth or in cuts or sores. And you can dry-fuck. That’s when you rub your dick against another guy's crotch or butt, but the dick doesn't go inside. The only absolutely sure way to avoid transmitting HIV is to not have sex, but you can do all the things I just mentioned, and you don’t really have to worry about HIV at all. Oh, but gay guys shouldn't share razor blades or toothbrushes."
And I’d been embarrassed by the word "cum"? Had this guy really said all that about licking a guy’s cock and balls, and dry-fucking? Suddenly, the pressure on my head and lungs increased by another thousand or so pounds per square inch.
At the same time, I couldn't help but remember the very first time I'd had sex. It had been more than a year ago, with Kevin Land, the first guy I'd ever dated.
The air was cold on my skin.
Kevin and I were out in the woods, under the stars, and our shirts were off and our pants and underwear were down around our ankles. We'd been kissing for a while, but now we just faced each other, staring, taking each other in.
There was dark hair on his chest, not a lot, but some. Meanwhile, the hair in his crotch was thick and black, a lot thicker than mine. But there was one mystery even the thick night shadows of that crotch could not contain: his dick pointing right up at me.
We were both hard.
I reached out and touched him. It was the first time I'd ever touched a cock other than my own. I could feel it pulsing in my hand — it was surprisingly warm. It was both very familiar yet totally alien. I'd never touched a dick from this angle. And my dick wasn't really anything like his.
We were both about the same size, although his was thicker. It stuck up more too, in almost a perfect arch. Mine angled up too, but the shaft itself was straight.
I wanted to be looking at two places at once, into his eyes, and also down at his dick. But
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