Disclaimer: This story is basically a fantasy involving humiliation, mild violence, and sexual activity between teenage boys. If you are underage (18), find such material offensive, or in violation of the laws of your state/country, please don't read any further.
(c) Art M. Hill ArtHill579@aol.com All rights reserved (2004). If you enjoy this story, please email me.
"High School Blues" part 14: Stormy Weather...
Just crossing the state line into New Jersey on I-78, the storm that had been threatening all afternoon finally caught up with us. The sky turned black followed by thunder, lightening, and finally a torrential downpour. Many of the cars were forced off the road, including our camper, which was being buffeted around by the heavy winds. As a result we didn't arrive back home until much later than we had anticipated. Mr. Greenburg stopped at a small diner to call Terry's parents and mine to assure them that all was well. They were already getting the beginnings of the storm along the Jersey shore and were starting to worry about us.
The Greenburgs dropped Terry off first and then me before going home. It was raining so hard when I jumped out of the camper that I got drenched just running to the front door. I was greeted by my parents who asked about the weekend, which I told them was really great (what else do you tell parents?) In spite of having to repeatedly suck off Terry and Bob, I did enjoy the weekend, and had to admit that I even enjoyed--somewhat--the blow jobs too.
Later, as I lay in bed listening to the rain pounding on my window, I thought about how it felt to take those big teen cocks in my mouth. I especially thought about Terry's uncut cock. At first I didn't like it because of the "cheese," but once I got used to it I found it irresistible. The feeling of my tongue running underneath that warm layer of silky skin, accompanied by the soft moans of Terry; his hands gently but firmly holding my head, occasionally pulling it in as he thrust deeper into my mouth, was very exciting. I found myself sporting another erection, thinking about that beautiful cock thrusting in and out of my mouth, and finally filling it with a warm load of cum. At that moment I had my own mind-blowing orgasm. I only had time to think briefly about my problems with M & J before I fell into a deep sleep as the rain continued to lash my window.
The next day Bob didn't show up for school. When I asked Terry about it, he said that Bob had called him early this morning to report that, while they were away on the camping trip, their house had been robbed. He didn't have any more information. Terry said that Bob sounded terribly depressed on the phone, and that he was going over to see him right after school. Luckily Mike and Jimmy and the crew simply ignored me that day so I had no problems talking to Terry and even leaving school with him. When we reached the Greenburg house, the police had just left. Mrs. Greenburg answered the door.
"I'm so glad you boys are here," she said. "Bob needs his friends right about now. Most of the things taken belonged to him. I'll let him tell you what happened. It will probably make him feel a little better. Mr. Greenburg had to go in to work right after the police left. He's only staying a few hours and then he'll be home. Your timing is perfect. Bob's down in the basement."
Terry said that when something went wrong, Bob would go down to the basement and use his exercise equipment. That was the way he worked out his problems and got the strength to deal with them. When we got to the basement we saw Bob sitting on a chair with his head in his hands. He seemed to have been crying--something I couldn't quite picture Bob doing. Looking around the room, it hit me like a mad pitbull: the room was almost empty!
Terry ran over to Bob and threw his arm around his shoulder. "What happened here, man. Where is all your stuff?"
Bob didn't speak right away. There was a long silence as he seemed to gather his thoughts. "They took everything, Ter, everything!"
"Who did," Terry asked, "Who did it?"
"That's just it," Bob answered, his voice shaking. "It happened when we were away for the weekend. Some bastards broke in through the back door." He led us over to the door and showed us where it had been pried open and the lock broken. "Those shits came in through here and took all of my equipment. Then they must have dragged it across the lawn and back to that old road in the woods. That's what the cops figured. They said it had to be a team to move all that heavy equipment."
Terry knew only too well what Bob was talking about. He'd been down here often enough. He also knew how proud Bob was of his equipment and how happy he was when he could afford to buy something else he felt was necessary for his body-building routines or to share them with others. Gone was Bob's weight bench with its great variety of weights; gone was his Bowflex which he used constantly; gone was his treadmill and stepper. The bastards had even unscrewed and taken the weight pulleys from the wall, not to mention such smaller items as exercise mats, medicine balls and a heavy bag.
Who could have done such a thing? A lot of dudes, Terry thought bitterly. Bob probably had the whole soccer team in here at one time or another. Everyone of them knew the value of the setup. All anyone needed was opportunity, a group of accomplices, and a bit of know how...
Bob was still in shock. "They even went upstairs. They didn't mess anything up, but they took around $300 in cash from dad's dresser and they got my computer and my new stereo system."
I shuttered. Sure I had heard about robberies; they happened every day. But it was never personal. It never happened to anyone I knew. I felt so bad for Bob and so angry against the burglars.
"What are you gonna do?" Terry asked Bob gently.
"I don't know," Bob began to sob again. "If I could get my hands on those fuckers for just a minute I would...The police say that unless you get lucky there's very little chance of recovering stolen items or finding out who did it. The bastards must have been pretty smart. They really didn't leave any clues except marks in the grass where they carried or dragged the stuff back into the woods. The police went over the whole area very carefully. There were several sets of tire tracks on that road, but it's used often enough by guys hopin' to screw their chicks that there was no way of knowing for sure."
"The cops said they would keep workin' on it, but you know the story. They said this is a 'victimless crime'. That means it has very low priority in their case files." He laughed bitterly. "Hey, maybe I should start watching those detective shows on the Discovery Channel or "CSI" and trace down all those clues like fibers and stuff myself."
"Bob, listen," Terry said. "This isn't gonna stop us. We'll go to the gym for now. Then after that we'll see what happens. There's always a chance the cops will get lucky and turn something up. Another thing: if anybody from school was involved we may be able to find 'em. You know how guys brag about things they've done whether it's fuckin' some chick or whatever. Somebody might open his mouth."
A vague thought passed through my mind about something Mike and Jimmy had said in the woods the other day. Something about where Bob lived...it was all confused in my mind since I had been drugged. I decided to simply let it go and tune in again on the conversation.
"Well, I'll tell ya something, Ter," Bob was saying, this time with anger in his voice, "If the cops turn something up, I'm gonna be right there and make sure that whoever did this pays-seriously pays!"
I had only consolation to offer Bob. Suddenly he seemed to notice me for the first time. "Hey Joe," he said, "thanks for comin' man. I appreciate that."
"Hey Bob," Terry piped up. "Why don't you let Joe here give you a blow job? That'll make you feel better and ease some of the tension."
I was shocked that Terry had offered my services to Bob without even asking me. But I did want to make Bob feel better, and I had to admit I was excited by the prospect of getting to blow him again.
"Nah," said Bob. "I really don't feel like it."
In spite of what he said, I stepped up to him, almost like I was in a trance, and sank down to my knees. I buried my face in his jean-covered crotch and began to rub his cock, which began to stiffen. At first Bob pushed me away, but when I persisted he gave in, and let me unzip his jeans and pull them down along with his briefs. His cock was fully hard at this point, and I massaged it gently in my hand. Bob let out a soft groan.
"Ya see," Terry said. "Remember how talented that mouth is. Joe's gonna make ya feel real good in no time."
I did everything Bob taught me and concentrated on the things I knew he liked best. Soon he was thrusting vigorously into my mouth and throat and talking trash to me. This only encouraged me to try to deep throat him. I found I was getting much better at relaxing my gag reflex and taking his cock down my throat.
"Oh yeah," he groaned, "Oh yeah. Do it fag, work that baby; treat it right and it's gonna treat you right, real soon now."
Bob grabbed the back of my head and forced his whole cock into my sucking mouth. At the same time I did my best to wrap my tongue around his pole, and to pull in my cheeks to feel like a cunt. I felt his cock swell up and a shudder go through his body. Then a river of warm cum started pouring out of his twitching cock, while Bob almost screamed in extacy.
"O fuck! O damn! Yeah that's it! O God that's so good. Ahhhhhhh!" He kept his cock in my mouth while I completely cleaned all remnants of cum from his now deflating cock. Finally he pulled it out with a pop.
"Thanks, man," Bob panted. "I really needed that."
"Told ya," said Terry, as he stepped up to me to get his turn. I was just about to object that the idea was to help out Bob and not to have Terry get his rocks off. But in the end I relented. I didn't want this moment when Bob was feeling better to end on a sour note. Besides, I remembered Terry's uncut cock with lust, and secretly hoped that he had not showered that day so I could sample his nasty 'cheese' again.
"Pull down my jeans and boxers," he ordered. "Now get on that cock and make me feel good."
I could not help but notice the tone of authority that had crept into Terry's voice. When had that started? I began wondering again about our friendship. Friends don't treat other friends like servants or order them around. These guys were becoming a little bit too much like Mike and Jimmy. But, like I said, those kind of dudes were turning me on more and more.
After just a moment's hesitation I did as Terry wished, and after pulling down his jeans and boxers, saw the object of my craving. His cock was still limp so the foreskin entirely covered his cockhead. However, I could see a glistening drop of precum, indicating that he was already excited and his cock would soon be stiffening. I started again by running my tongue under the silky foreskin accompanied by a moan of approval from Terry. I suspected from the smell of his cock that he hadn't washed this morning, and was secretly delighted that I was right. If anything, there was even more 'cheese' than the other day. I feasted slowly on the creamy treat before I went to work on his shaft and cockhead.
"Ya like that 'cheese', don'tcha? You're turning into a queer little pig. Go at it piggy. Eat that cheese and work that cock. Yeah, just like that. Ohhhhhh!"
Terry shot like he hadn't cum in a week. Now I knew to swallow as soon as he started shooting, so I had no trouble taking it all. That seemed to please him, and he congratulated me.
"Like I said, fag," Terry sighed, "Your gettin' better and better. It'll be nice when our chicks are out of town or don't want to put out to have your mouth around to do the job. What do ya' think Bob."
Bob was silent. I didn't think he was into the blow jobs as much as Terry, but I could tell he was content. I was happy that I could help him in a moment of such personal loss and unhappiness.
At the time, I never made the connection (my stupidity again!) between the theft of Bob's stuff with Mike and Jimmy and their pals. I should have known, especially since they were in the process of shaking me down for most of my weekly allowance and pay check.
The job was so easy it was laughable. Fuck, it was pure entertainment, just like in the movies. About 11:30 PM on Saturday evening all the guys met at my place: Jimmy, Phil, Shawn, Brad, and Tod. Shawn had emptied the inside of his van so that we had a lot of space, perfect to load Greenburg's equipment. To leave enough room in the van for the goods, we also used Tod's pickup. The guys would ride in the van on the way over, and in the pickup on the way back. Mom and dad were away, as usual, so we had no worry about their interference. Before we left we had a round of beers, reviewed our plan one more time (we had gone over it again and again), and headed out for the old dirt road behind High Street.
The beauty of this plan was that hardly anyone ever used this road since High Street was built. We parked behind the Greenburgs' house and just watched for awhile. There was no activity at the neighbors' houses. They really couldn't see between the yards anyway because of a high fence that was probably built for privacy. It was fuckin' perfect.
I had made sure everyone wore black clothes-from head to foot. I told 'em to wear soft soled shoes, and passed out the ski masks and gloves. No marks, no fingerprints. Fuck, what do you think, I'm stupid? We came out of the woods without making a sound and moved slowly, crab-walking across the back yard. Tod was able to pick the lock, but there was also a deadbolt so we had to use a crowbar. We broke the door with a minimum of noise, although a damn dog started barking somewhere in the neighborhood. We filed into the basement one by one carrying small flashlights. What we saw was awesome. Every fuckin' thing we could have hoped for.
"Stop gawking dudes," I said. "Let's get started. Tod, this is your department. Tell the guys what to take and how. You start disassembling the stuff that needs to be carried in pieces." Tod quickly got the guys into groups of two. The stepper could just be carried out. The treadmill could be folded up, but was heavy as a son-of-a-bitch. It took four guys to move it. The weight bench was unscrewed and taken in parts, and the guys heaved the weights, each one out to prove how much he could carry.
"No damn competition right about now," I ordered. "Plenty of time for that later. Right now we gotta move."
Tod was working on the Bowflex while the other guys took the smaller items. The heavy bag was unhitched from the ceiling and the pulleys unscrewed from the wall. I was determined to take everything we could, not just so that we could use it, but to fuck up that bastard Greenburg who was a pain in my ass. This was gonna be sweet!
The guys had a relay goin' across the backyard and through the woods to the van. I gotta admit, I never thought things would go so smoothly--never a hitch. Do I know how to plan a fuckin' heist or what?
While Tod finished disassembling the Bowflex, I went upstairs to see what else might be around. I deliberately took off my sneaks so that I wouldn't leave any tread marks on the carpet (good, eh?) I went straight to the Greenburgs' bedroom and rummaged through all the drawers. Bingo! A wad of cash stuffed in an envelope. Yep, couple hundred at least, but I'd count it later. Hummmm, maybe I should give the fag a break on his weekly payments now that we had some extra cash...Nah, I loved takin' that fag's money!
Next I checked out the asshole's room, hopin' to put the bite on him. I did find about $50 which I stuffed into my black jeans--not bad! Even better, I found a new stereo system with awesome amplifiers, multiple CD capacity, and all that other shit. Oh, and one other item: his computer--"Dude, you're gettin' a Dell" I laughed to myself. Yeah! Fuck you, Greenburg!
Had to watch the time. The longer we hung out there, the more the chance of gettin' busted. I headed back to the basement and saw that the place was almost cleaned out. Tod had done a great job on the Bowflex, which the guys put into the boxes we brought. Then we lugged them out to the van, together with the stuff from upstairs. We were finished here. The guys wanted to spray paint the walls, fuck everything up, but I put a stop to that. Ya don't leave any kind of evidence that it's personal. Quickest way to get caught. (I'm thinkin' again!)
So off we went with the goodies. Nobody had passed the van on the old dirt road so we lucked out again. No witnesses. Nobody to say "I passed this suspicious van parked behind the Greenburgs' and got the license plate." If that happened we would have been fucked.
By the time I got to the van, everything was loaded up and ready to go. It was about 1:00 am. Time to get off the streets before the cops spotted us. So we pulled out of the woods at legal speed and drove back to my house. Most of the guys followed us back in Tod's pickup, hidden under a tarp. By now we were wiped-out with the excitement and work of the evening. All the guys had gotten permission from their folks to crash at my place (for a fuckin' pajama party!). We didn't even bother to unload our loot. It would keep until tomorrow. We drove the van around back along with the pickup so nobody would see them from the road. Then we went inside for a nightcap to celebrate. We actually had two or three rounds before we called it a night. Everybody was giving one another high-fives and guzzling beers because we pulled it off, got some great equipment, and put that fucker Greenburg in his place--all with the help of the faggot. Zits was the toast of the night.
I warned the guys real serious about keeping their damn mouths shut. One careless word at school would fuck everything up, and we would be in juvenile court quicker than a blow job makes you jizz. I was just waitin' to see the reaction of those two muscle heads and their little cocksucker friend to our dirty work!
(to be continued)