O’Riley had his eyes closed. He’d given his hand a rest and that’s when I made my move—and the worst mistake possible. I closed my mouth over his penis. I liked the feel of it, the taste, even the smell.
“No,” he said, pushing me away. “I don’t want that.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s not normal,” he said. “Only my wife will do that for me.”
“But you’re a kid and not married and I’m here.” I reached for him, but he grabbed my hand.
“No, Phil.” Then he must have seen my dejected expression and added, “what we were doing, that’s fine. Like I said, all the boys at St. Sebastian’s do this, but not—”
“—I gotta go,” I said and bent over to tie my shoes.
“You’ll miss the rest of the album. Stay.” But when he saw I was leaving, he shrugged and went back to finish up.