"Oh God," he moaned. "Right there, dude. Awww fuck, yeah. You're such a fucking stud, man! Yeah!"
That's where everything ended up two years ago on Christmas Day, after a hearty meal and several hours spent with the family of one of my Dad's best friends. They both worked out of the same office, and as luck would have it, lived within a block of one another. So my parents decided not to make the trek up to my grandparents' house for the annual family gathering, and we invited the Sheltons over to our home for Christmas dinner.
Of course, that was just fine with me. The family gatherings were a pain in the ass, especially with the long drive. Then there was the fact that none of my cousins were the same age as me. I was fifteen, and most of my older cousins were a few years younger than I was. As a result, I'd usually get stuck supervising the other kids and didn't have any fun at all. Sometimes I'd help the adults in the kitchen or hang out with my uncles as they watched a few college football games on television, but that was usually about it. I was bored out of my mind. To add insult to injury, some of my giggling, bratty younger cousins -- little girls in nice dresses and a mouth full of braces -- would tease me and make comments about how "cute" I was and that I looked like I should be on some WB show on television. Usually I'd just blush and smile, telling them to shut up. But they'd keep on laughing and even asked if they could "practice kissing a boy" on me.
"Come on, Cayden!" my oldest cousin was twelve would plead. "Just sit on the bed and let us practice! Come on, please?"
My own freakin' cousins. I know, it's gross.
I wasn't one of those guys who was full of himself. Then again, I didn't have any cause for complaint either. Even though I'm a city kid from the suburbs, my short blond hair is the color of golden wheat and I've been given a set of farmboy blue eyes to match. I have All-American, teen idol good looks, and my skin is always unblemished. I was an athletic kid, too -- although I never joined any sports teams. It just wasn't my thing. Music was far more interesting. I was a rock drummer and had a kick ass kit in our garage. However, I must admit I'd also become pretty good on a skateboard and could outrace any of my friends in a swimming pool.
Of course, Matt Shelton would give me a good run for my money. He was a bona fide athlete to the core. He was only a sophomore in high school, but Matt had made the Varsity football team as a wide receiver and punt returner. There was a speed about him that seemed almost superhuman when he was running across the field or making a spectacular catch. His hair was dark brown, cut into a nice preppy style and complimenting a set of flashing green eyes. Even as a fifteen year old, he could have had any girl at school whether she was from our class or a senior -- but lucky for me, Matt wasn't interested in girls at all!
Matt had been my best friend since third grade, and our relationship had expanded into something a lot more stimulating. We'd been fooling around ever since we were thirteen years old, starting during one of the hottest August months on record and a late night trading of blow jobs in the swimming pool. We'd jacked off a few times in front of each other when we were twelve, but that summer evening was the moment where we actually took everything a step further. One step had led to another step, and soon we were doing things that our parents would be shocked to learn about. But we were pretty careful about it. Matt was considered the young athlete "stud in training" at school, and I was pretty popular with the cool crowds and skater set. Neither of us wanted to endanger that and come out as gay boy lovers when we were only fifteen.
But when I found out that we'd be spending Christmas together, I could barely conceal how overjoyed I was. Being a laid back teenager, I played it cool, of course. But deep inside, I was ready to jump into the air and scream, "Yes!"
When the holiday finally arrived, we spent the morning opening gifts and having a huge breakfast together as usual. Then, we took our showers and got changed for the get-together later in the afternoon. My Mom spent most of the day working in the kitchen while I tried to give her a hand. She started making a big deal about how nice I looked and I got slightly embarrassed. Since it was a nice holiday gathering, I'd decided to get all prepped out with a pair of khakis, a white oxford button down collar polo shirt, a burgundy and gold Abercrombie and Fitch striped tie which was slightly loosened from the open shirt collar (back in the days when Abercrombie sold neckties), and a sleeveless, V-necked brown argyle sweater. Usually my blond hair was tousled and unkempt, rocker style. But on that day it was combed pretty nicely, and the sleeves of my shirt rolled up to the elbow, showing off the leather cuff that I wore on my left wrist. A little punk with the preppy. Sometimes I really liked dressing up, and I definitely wanted to look good for Matt. When my Mom was done fussing over my clothes, I started setting the table. The entire house was bathed in the scent of fresh pine. But there was also the aroma of honey baked ham, pumpkin pie, spices and cranberries, causing my mouth to water in anticipation of both the upcoming feast -- as well as what might come afterwards.
At around four o'clock or so, the front doorbell rang.
I was standing in the kitchen doorway, leaning on the counter as I woofed down a piece of celery stolen from the cutting board. Mom was chopping up some potatoes and threw a quick glance over at me.
"Would you get that?" she asked.
"Sure, Mom."
Of course I wanted to answer it. I walked quickly to the entryway just beyond the living room threshold, checked my hair in the mirror and slightly adjusted my tie so it looked just right. Then, I opened the door with a bright smile and welcomed the Sheltons to our home for Christmas.
Matt was standing just off to the side and behind his mother, regarding me with a slightly sheepish grin when I greeted them. As soon as I shook hands with his Dad and received a kiss on the cheek from his Mom, they walked inside and left me on the front porch with their son. We both took a little time to check each other out before slapping our palms together into a "buddy" handshake.
Not surprisingly, he looked great. He was wearing a pair of Wranglers which looked to be brand new, cut perfectly to his limber form. The denim hugged both his bountiful teenage basket and the strong, athletic ass which had been perfectly shaped from running routes on the football field. They didn't quite go with the loafers that he wore, but on a guy like Matt it didn't really matter. He fuckin' looked good in everything. A leather belt was buckled tightly around his narrow waist, and he sported a blue button down collar polo shirt with a dark navy Ralph Lauren classic player logo on his left chest. He was all dressed up and preppy like I was, although it was really more his style. All of the jocks were preps at our high school, and they weren't caught dead without their Polo and Lacoste and Abercrombie attire. It was their unofficial uniform.
"Nice tie," he said with an unassuming smirk on his face. He was cocky as hell on the football field, but Mark was soft-spoken off it. I just smiled back at him and adjusted my tie knot a bit.
"Thanks."
Before long, we grabbed a pair of cokes and traded conversation with our parents, catching a college bowl game on television. The entire time, Matt and I traded knowing little smirks about what we'd rather be doing. But nobody seemed to notice, even when we were sitting at the dinner table.
Everyone had two or three helpings along with a slice of pumpkin pie, and by the time seven o'clock rolled around, we were stuffed. Both my Dad and Mr. Shelton dragged us down to the basement, splitting us into two teams for a game of pool. The teenagers against the adults. So we took them up on it. As the game progressed, I kept staring at my best buddy. Matt looked so fucking hot, it was unbelievable. There wasn't so much as a crease in his shirt, and the split yoke beneath the back of his collar made my cock go stiff. He moved around the table with a confidence that was infectious. His shoulders were always squared while his eyes flickered with the thrill of competition. And his ass -- my God, the way that athletic, teen Superboy ass looked in those jeans -- it was a wonder that I didn't jump him right there and then. I could feel myself getting kinda hot under the collar and ran a finger underneath it several times, taking a series of deep breaths to control myself.
Naturally, we ended up winning the match. After the eight ball was sunk into a side pocket and victory declared, our Dads sat down on a couch while Matt and I played another game. Before long, they started to doze off. Mrs. Shelton and my Mom were cleaning up in the kitchen, and we could hear their voices as Matt and I finished our third game of pool.
"Let's go up to my room," I whispered, putting down my pool cue. Matt nodded and followed suit as we quietly left the basement.
Nobody saw us head upstairs, and I gently closed my bedroom door after we'd walked inside. Matt flopped backwards on my bed, arms spread out as he emitted a small groan.
"Oh man," he said. "I ate way too much."
I sat down on the edge of the bed, right next to him. "Yeah, I'm feeling pretty full. You want to work it off?"
Matt let out another groan, adopting a weary look that told me he didn't much feel like moving a muscle. "You mean go out for a walk?" he asked. "Because I think I just want to stay right here."
Our eyes locked, and a cocky grin appeared on my face. My hand reached out and wandered up the front of his shirt, locating the taut muscles concealed beneath the polo as my fingertips slid over the buttons. Matt's eyes registered pleasant surprise as my thumb traced the Ralph Lauren logo, while my other hand gently squeezed the rapidly growing basket just below his belt buckle.
"That's what I mean."
Matt was sporting a grin, and it was obvious he wasn't feeling quite so full anymore. Slowly, I eased down and brought his lips against his own. We started kissing with all the gentleness of a summer breeze. I eased down so that I was laying right on top of him, feeling his hands as they gently slipped over my khaki covered butt. And for around a minute or two, it didn't go any further than that.
But soon, our adrenaline started kicking in. We gave into the type of rowdy sex drive that only a couple of teenage boys can feel. Our hips were grinding together, the engorged mounds within our pants increasing as our cocks doubled their size. Tongues explored, and our breathing become heavier. Passion mounted like steam looking to escape a kettle. My hands were everywhere on him. I kissed his neck and bit down above his shirt collar, drawing a groan of ecstasy from the fifteen year-old buck. His reaction to it drove me onward, and I kissed him even more passionately as our tongues flicked and fought for supremacy. My fingers traced the outline of his pecs hidden beneath his shirt front, begging for an escape.
Breaking off from his lips, I started kissing his polo shirt, touching my lips on the buttoned point of one of his collars, sliding down and kissing each one of the shirt buttons that led to the prize below his belt buckle. As I was doing this, my hands tugged the shirt tail out from his jeans, pushing it up just enough to expose his navel and the beginning of a six pack. He was still too young to be perfectly developed, but Matt was definitely on his way there. And his body was as tight and well built as a fifteen year-old was gonna get. Intending to enjoy every minute of this Christmas holiday, I sucked on the tiny ridges of his abs, then traced my tongue down and kissed his belly button.
"You are such a hot fuckin' preppy," I whispered, stopping for just a moment.
"So are you," he smiled breathlessly with a set of perfect, white teeth. "But let's get out of these stuffy clothes."
Those words were like opening the floodgates. The fact that our parents were just downstairs meant nothing. I wanted to have this preppy teenage stud just like he wanted me, and nothing was going to stop it now.
There was a flash of a smile on my face, and then I sat up so that I was straddling him just below the waist. Mark put his locked fingers behind his head, biting down on his lower lip with a grin as he watched. "You want me to do anything special for you?" I asked, flipping his shirt front back down over his belt buckle.
Matt nodded. "Make a muscle," he said.
I raised one of my arms and flexed a bicep, a cocky smirk on my face as I felt the sinews pressing up against the sleeve. I could tell that he was getting turned on from the look on his face.
"Now let me see it," he said.
He didn't need to even give the command. "Preppy Boy," I said. "To drummer boy. Coming up."
There was a popping of collar buttons, my necktie yanked off and clothing worked over my head -- exposing tanned flesh and cords of muscle -- until the heavy bundle of still-buttoned preppy attire landed on the floor in a heap. Now I clenched both fists and started flexing again for Matt, tightening my pecs and stomach muscles along with the corded biceps, built up from years of drum playing. My hair was mussed from pulling off my clothes. Below it, I was left with nothing but a shell necklace, the leather cuff, and a shirtless torso rippling with strength.
"Awwww yeah," Matt grinned. "You hot drummer stud. Now that's what I wanted to see all fuckin' day!"
He sat up and kissed me passionately, taking my breath away as his hands explored my shoulders and slipped down the muscles of my back. My own fingers combed through his thick hair, then I pushed him back down on the bed.
"Your turn, Superboy."
Without any hesitation, I grabbed the bottom of his polo shirt and started ripping it open from the bottom up. Buttons scattered, revealing more and more of his athletic chest, until the last button below the collar popped away and I threw the shirt wide open. Those wondrous pecs stared back at me, bronzed from the many hours he'd worked out shirtless in his back yard, along with the stunning torso that I could worship for days on end. It was soft and smooth, but blessed with muscle.
I leaned down and sucked on his nipples, hungrily kissing his pecs and chewing on his abs until I reached his stomach. I unclasped his belt, tugging open the button fly of his jeans and peeling those tight Wranglers down his legs with groping fingers. When his Abercrombie boxer briefs were revealed, I could see the thick outline of his swollen cock and the precum staining the front. My lips sucked on the cock through his white underwear, then pulled the edge of the elastic band down with my teeth. Matt's flagpole sprang out, eager to receive some much-needed attention, and slapped hard against his stomach. Thick droplets of creamy boy juice were oozing from the tip and trickled on his abs. I flicked my tongue over the purple mushroom head then sucked on his balls for good measure, enjoying the warm taste of this hot, teenage jock filling my mouth. Matt could barely contain himself as he shut his eyes tight, his fingers digging into the comforter of my bed.
"Unnggghhh," he rasped in a horse whisper. "Unnngggh! ... Oh God, Cayden ... aw fuck ... yeah, man. Suck my cock. Do it dude. Fuck yeah!"
Running my tongue along the shaft, I started licking the most sensitive area just below the base. Matt ran his hands through my hair, then squeezed my shoulders with every flick of my tongue. Seconds later, I went for another tactic. My lips began sucking just on the end of the pole. Wiggling my tongue on the end of it repeatedly, and then removing my lips like a child would suck on a popsicle at the beach. Matt made a hissing sound, still biting that lower lip with a grin. Finally, I decided to stop teasing him and got down to business. I bobbed my head on his dick, taking all of his seven inches, while tugging at his Wrangler jeans and Abercrombie briefs until they were bunched at his calves. A few drops of sweat appeared on Matt's chest as he took deep ragged breaths. That was too much for me to ignore, so I resumed licking his hairless chest and tasting some of the fresh, salty perspiration dripping over his muscles. He had a surfer's chest, which was funny since he'd never seen the ocean. But he liked to work out in our swimming pool, and the musculature in his healthy frame reflected it.
"Get off for a second," he said.
"Why? ... Something wrong?"
"No, just get up."
Doing what I was told so I could catch my breath, Matt unbuttoned his cuffs and shrugged off his torn polo shirt. He flung it to the floor, then kicked aside his jeans. Now he was completely naked except for a sweet little choker that he'd picked out from (where else?) Abercrombie and Fitch. Matt dropped down on his knees and started grappling with my belt, unfastening the button of my khakis and yanking my white CK's down to reveal a six incher just begging to be serviced. He was more than happy to oblige, tickling the end of it with his tongue and squeezing it gently. The muscles in my chest and arms tightened, flexing just a bit. That must've turned him on because he started kissing my balls and sucking on them like tootsie pops. I could feel his hands gripping my ass, kneading it slowly. Then he guided the shaft into his mouth and started going to work, bobbing with a steady motion while I began to thrust my hips in perfect sync.
"That's so hot," I moaned. "Aw, fuck ... keep sucking that cock, preppy boy. Fuck, yeah ... awesome jock stud."
No doubt, this was the best Christmas ever. Two preppy studs -- one transformed back into a drummer rocker -- having hot sex in my bedroom. Right before I was ready to shoot my load, Matt broke it off. He teasingly waited until my dick started to get a little soft again, then started using the precum from my own love pole to slather the entire shaft like lube.
"What are you doing, man?" I asked.
"You're gonna like it," he answered with a wicked flash in his eyes. "I've always wanted to try this out with you."
He turned around and grabbed the edge of the desktop, thrusting his ass out a bit so that his anus was right in front of my erection. "Slide it in," he said. "Just go slow. I've never done it, and it might hurt." Immediately, I knew what Matt was talking about. And hell, I wasn't gonna turn him down. With a good natured shrug and feeling more turned on than ever, I nodded back.
"All right, dude!"
Moving forward, I grabbed a firm ass cheek in either hand, prying them apart so that the target was revealed in all of its glory. With muscles tensed in my chest and arms that made me look like a young athlete, I started pushing the length of my teen cock into his awaiting hole. There was an intoxicating warmth that engulfed my cock, and it drew a big smile on my face.
At first, I could feel the muscles in Matt's ass clamping down on my shaft and he groaned in pain. Suddenly, I got kinda scared that I might be hurting him and was about to pull back out. But then, I heard another deep little moan of pleasure. The tightness surrounding my dick started to ease up a little. So I kept pushing inward until I felt something hard and round at the end of it.
"Unnngghhh," he sputtered. "Ungh! ... Awwww yeaaaaah ... "
"What's that?"
"It's my prostrate," he said. "That's where my spunk is stored. Start fucking me, you drummer stud. Come on."
My cock was stiff as a board again, and I kept thrusting into him until I felt that sweet spot at the end of it. Matt just kept groaning and hissing, jacking himself off while I rammed him. Our muscles were tensed up, hair dripping with sweat and teeth clenched in our mouths behind huge grins.
"Oh God," he moaned. "Right there, dude. Awww fuck, yeah. You're such a fucking stud, man! Yeah!"
"Awwww, yeah!" I moaned as an orgasm coursed through my body. "Dude, I'm gonna cuuuuuummmm ..."
There was the sensation of power racing through my muscles, causing them to tense up under my skin, and I hit a double biceps pose again as my cock starting burying load after load of boy jizz into Matt's insides. He groaned and the muscles under his back and shoulder blades tightened. Then, his own shaft began pumping like a hose and spewing white cream on the floor.
"Aw yeah!" he wailed. "Don't stop now, skater boy! Awwww, yeah!"
He kept shooting and firing semen from his cock, a bit of the juice hitting the wall and leaving quite a puddle at his feet, before we both collapsed on the bed. We were pretty spent, but that didn't stop us from sharing another passionate kiss that left me desperate for air. For a while, we licked our chests and ran our hands over the cocks which were just starting to droop back to normal. Then, we noticed that it'd been an hour and realized that we'd better get cleaned up.
Both of us quickly showered in my adjoining bathroom, then gathered up our preppy clothes as we started to get dressed. After I'd finished pulling on my preppy clothes and refastened the collar buttons on my oxford shirt, I realized that Matt's own dress polo oxford was ruined. Thinking fast, I gave him a hooded sweatshirt from my dresser to wear over it. Luckily, after he donned the sweatshirt, only the buttoned down collar of the polo shirt was visible and not the ripped front.
"Will your Mom be mad about your shirt?" I asked.
"Nah," Matt smirked. "I got dozens of these oxfords. She won't even know that it's gone. Trust me."
"Cool."
"Besides," he added with a sly wink. "When you ripped it open like that, that was fucking amazing. I almost came right then."
"I had to do it," I kissed him again, tugging at his shirt collar. "I mean, that's what Superboy fuckin' does, right? The shirt rip?"
"Hell yeah," Matt grinned.
Our parents weren't the wiser. Matt told his parents that he was pretty cold and was borrowing one of my sweatshirts. Nobody said a thing. My Mom made a passing comment about how my hair got so mussed, and why I wasn't wearing my tie. But I just shrugged and told her that I decided to lose it, and that Matt and I had gotten into a little bit of roughhousing. Of course, they didn't realize just how "rough" things had gotten in my bedroom!
Not long afterwards, they said goodbye and left. But not before Matt and I traded one final, mutual basket squeeze as he walked out. We'd already made a pact to make New Year's Eve just as special as Christmas.
And believe me, it was ...