NOTE TO READERS: Thanks for the positive feedback on the first chapter to my story. This is the first story I've written and it's definitely a turn-on to do. My goal is to write one chapter every couple of weeks. I know a lot of you guys are eager for our narrator to get onto Zach's hard cock. Our story, though, is developing step by step. This chapter chronicles our guy's emotional ups and downs in trying to come to grips with his strong attraction to the straight young stud. I realize that some of you may not like a slow build-up to our guy slurping the teenager's bone. So, please feel free to skip those chapters you're not interested in. Thanks for reading!
I woke up groggily on Monday morning after my marathon masturbation weekend. I had lost count of the number of times I had cum pulling on my hard little pud. My dick would come to strict attention each time I started thinking about Zach forcing his randy teen prick into some girl's face and asshole. I never realized that a guy could cum as often or as much as I had from Friday night through last night. I felt totally drained -- and not just of cum! Throwing the blanket off, I inspected my much-self-abused dick. It sat there small and lifeless. Normally, I would wake with a morning piss hardon. I wasn't at all averse to starting a day by pumping my pud until I had dumped one or two warm cum loads onto my stomach. Then I would jump into a hot shower and be ready to face the day.
Looking clinically at my limp dick, the thought popped into my head that maybe I had so totally drained myself of cum over the weekend that my prick would never be willing to again get hard and spit out a load of spooge. I shook my head to clear the crazy thought from my mind and hopped into the shower. I made the shower water really hot and directed it onto my limp dick. I always enjoyed taking a leisurely leak with the hot water streaming onto my dick. I sprayed my piss onto the side and floor tiles of the shower stall. By the time my piss stream slowed, I had begun to feel relaxed and untroubled. I soaped up my lean body from head to toe, paying special attention to my armpits, ass and crotch. A few minutes later, my gentle manipulation of my soapy dick with one hand and my balls with the other had given me a full erection. I guess I hadn't killed off my sex drive after all, I thought with relief! I briefly considered whacking off in the shower, as I sometimes liked to do with a soapy finger or two shoved up my butt, but figured I shouldn't press my luck. Instead, I playfully slapped my hardon back and forth a few times before finishing my shower in an upbeat mood and getting dressed for work.
I wasn't scheduled to work with Zach again until Wednesday, and I felt both relief and disappointment at the prospect of not seeing the young stud for two days. I was relieved that I would not be distracted by the constant hardon I would sport under my uniform pants simply from being in the general vicinity the handsome teenager. On the other hand, nothing made me more excited than being around him and I didn't know if I could make it through two whole days without a Zach fix.
As it turned out, you wouldn't have been able to tell from my dick that Zach wasn't there. I found myself thinking about him constantly and that would always result in a woody in my pants. I kept trying to focus my mind on something else, but after only about 15 seconds of effort I would find myself automatically returning in my mind to images of Zach's handsome face and awesome body.
On Monday and Tuesday nights, I jerked off to thoughts of the young stud, but strictly limited myself to cuming only twice each night. This was my idea of sexual discipline when it came to Zach!
I awoke on Wednesday morning to find my usual piss hardon throbbing in my crotch. I also saw dried cum on my stomach from my jerk-off session the night before. I felt proud that I had limited myself to cuming only twice the night before and, building on my accomplishment, decided to skip whacking off that morning. Man, I thought, I am fuckin' disciplined!
By the time I had showered and began dressing, thoughts of Zach were flooding my head and my dick was throbbing. I felt nervous or excited, or maybe both. I told myself I needed to stay in control of my emotions and act normal (or as close to normal as I could get!). My body, though, seemed not to be under my mind's control. As I got into my car and reached for the steering wheel, I saw that my hands were gently shaking and it felt like I had a swarm of butterflies in my stomach. I felt like I was about to step in front of an audience of a thousand people to give a speech. I briefly thought about heading back into my apartment and calling in sick. That is fucking crazy, I thought. I'm an adult. I can control my thoughts and emotions. With mental determination I headed to work, trying like hell to ignore my nervousness and excitement -- and the hardness in my pants.
As I pulled into the station, I saw Zach's Mustang already parked there. Suddenly I felt like I needed to throw up. Shit, I thought. I have got to get a fucking grip on myself! Stepping into the station, I said my good mornings to the other staff, while in my peripheral vision I was desperately seeking out Zach. Where the fuck was he? Then the door to the station's restroom flung open and out he walked. Zach was still buckling his belt and the sight of the muscular young stud stuffed into his uniform made me feel faint. I dropped to my knees and pretended to tie my shoes in an effort to get some blood back into my brain.
Zach walked right past me without stopping, uttering a weak "hey" as he passed. I don't know why, but a feeling of devastation washed through me. My whole fucking mind and body were twisted around this cocky teen, who barely seemed to know I existed. I felt battered by two opposing strong emotions: an irresistible attraction to the young straight stud, and a feeling of rejection and being a worthless piece of shit. I got myself into the restroom and splashed my face with cold water several times. I then sat down in one of the toilet stalls to collect myself before going back out. After five or ten minutes, I was feeling better. I still felt embarrassed and confused, but I told myself I could get through this. At least I no longer felt like I needed to disappear from the face of the earth.
Zach was neither friendly nor unfriendly toward me during that day. He just didn't seem too interested in me at all. I wondered how it was possible that one person could be so absorbed with another person and that other person could not seem to care less about him? Why would the universe construct things this way? I had no idea.
The rest of the day was a surreal experience. I acted normal, went through the motions, but felt totally numb emotionally. In about 20 minutes that morning, I had gone from being totally wired to totally numb.
Thursday morning I called in sick, which really wasn't far from the truth. My energy was totally sapped and I stayed in bed sleeping the whole day. By Friday morning, though, I was feeling better and spend the day at work. Zach was there and I treated him like just another co-worker. A couple of times during the day he smiled at me when I made a joke about something, and I felt conflicted deep in my gut. His charming smile was like the whole world to me and I wanted to drink it in deeply, but my feelings were still hurt, so I just turned away from him as casually as I could.
Zach didn't work on Saturday and this allowed me to get some emotional distance on the situation. My head had been working overtime struggling to come up with some kind of explanation for the crazy ups and downs I had been feeling. I tended to be very analytical and feared being out of control of things -- especially of myself. I told myself I had allowed myself to get infatuated with the young stud. Zach was a straight teenager who barely knew I existed. I had nothing in common with him and he would never be my friend or anything other than a co-worker. Certainly if Zach knew I was a fag who had been drooling over him since the first moment I laid eyes on him, he probably would want to beat the crap out of me for my trouble. Although this realization was depressing, I felt I had at least managed to put things in perspective and that this would allow me to get on with my life. At that time in my young life, I naively thought that having an explanation for something was the same as being able to accept it or control it.
By the time the station was scheduled to close at 10 p.m. on Saturday, I was feeling resigned but emotionally stronger. I had spent a Zach-free day at work and fancied that I was quickly recovering from my emotional addiction to the handsome teenager. I proudly noted to myself that I had spent the entire day without getting a woody in my pants thinking about Zach. I couldn't remember the last full day I had spent without my little dick getting hard and leaky over him. This confirmed to me that I was well on my way to a return to full mental health!
As was usual, the last couple of hours at the station on Saturday night were very slow and by our 10 p.m. closing time I was alone and taking the final readings on the gas pumps. It was dark and a little cold. After turning off all the lights and locking the station doors, I changed into my civilian clothes and headed toward my car. I was tired, but figured that today had been a turning point for me. No matter what happened to me, I knew that my smart mind could always come to understand the situation and allow me to right myself.
I was fumbling with my car keys when out of the corner of my eye I noticed a car pulling into the darkened station. We're closed shithead, I thought. Doesn't the fact that all of the lights are turned off give you some kind of fucking clue? As the car pulled up to where I was standing, I turned toward it ready to tell the driver that, sorry, we are closed.
The sight hit me like a two-by-four. It was Zach's Mustang. All of my intellectualizations of the day about having put things in perspective immediately flew out the window. I was hit with a wave of nervousness that informed me like a sharp slap to my face that I was totally full of shit when it came to controlling my emotions. Oh, great. Just what I need. Another emotional rollercoaster ride with this fucking guy. I was registering both nervousness and anger. Maybe it was stupid, but I felt angry at Zach that he had such involuntary control over my mind and emotions.
As his car pulled up to me, I was ready to curtly inform him that I was late for something (a date maybe, or a party?) and didn't have time to chat or re-open the pumps so he could get gas for his stupid Mustang.
As the driver's window lowered, a puff of smoke wafted out. A split second later I took in the sweet, pungent smell of pot. My determination began to melt as soon as Zach's handsome face came into view.
"Hey, man," he said. "How's it goin'?"
The young stud had a friendly, goofy smile on his face and I surmised he was stoned.
To be continued. . . .