Chapter 2 From Jess' Viewpoint
I thought I knew what real friends were, how friendship worked. I thought I knew what friends were for and what friends did and didn't do. I thought I knew a lot of things.
I'd had the same group of friends for years. But Billy was always No. 1. That next day at lunch, surrounded by my regular group of friends, I felt pretty good. Everything seemed normal. Billy and I were sitting on a bench seat so close together that our thighs were pressed against one another. I could feel the heat through our jeans. It wasn't a problem, just something I noticed. Every once in awhile, Billy would nudge me with his leg, sending a little secret message that added a private dimension to our lunchtime gab fest.
I had a reputation for not really giving a shit what anyone else thought of me, or what I did. Sometimes I did really stupid things, just to make that point. Everyone knew about me and my antics. I liked that. It made me someone special. Someone different. But different in a good way. I was cool. I was Mr. So-how-do-you-like-it?
I'm not sure why I suddenly cared so much about it, but just then I felt I needed to let the guys know, particularly Billy, that I was more into Ellie than ever. Her dad wouldn't let us see each other more than once or twice each weekend and never on weeknights. But I was into her and I wanted them to know we were a real couple. It wasn't just one of those look-at-me-I'm-so-cool-with-this-chick things.
So I started to talk about how important the time we had together was. How I hated it on days like today when she had a club meeting during lunch and I couldn't see her. I guess I hadn't noticed it, but I must have started to jiggle my leg against Billy's while I was talking. I don't know why I was doing that, because it's not something I do. But it must have gotten him mad at me again, just like last night. I could sense I was bugging him. Then all of a sudden, right while I was telling a funny story about Ellie, he just cut me off.
"Dude, what's with the leg? You gotta pee or something?"
I stopped jiggling. I stopped breathing. I felt all tense again. Something wasn't right between Billy and me, but I didn't know what. I could still feel the heat from Billy's thigh.
I figured I had to be cool. To be myself. So I did the kind of shit I always do. I didn't answer Billy. I didn't even acknowledge his comment. Instead I looked Billy right in the eye. Then I coolly surveyed the rest of my friends at the table.
"So I'm thinking about showing Ellie's dad just how big my cock is. That way he'll understand why she's so hung up on me and that he's never gonna get her to stay away from me. I just can't decide whether I should show it to him soft or hard. What do you guys think? Huh? I'll just unzip my pants, whip it out and ask her old man, 'So, how do you like it?'"
Everyone laughed. It was a big hit and even Billy seemed to snap back to his usual self. We sat a little longer with our friends and talked about whatever came up, from Emmett's farting to why anyone watched "Survivor."
Finally, Billy pushed his tray away, ready to head on out, probably to the quadrangle for some fresh air before class. He put his right hand on my shoulder, boosting himself out of the stupid bench seats. I looked up at him, our faces surprisingly close. I hoped he could sense my renewed confidence. I didn't want to end up today in the same hole we'd been in last night in my room.
"I'll see you tonight," he said as friendly as ever.
"Great," I said, smiling my tight-lipped smile, the one I only shared with him. It was different than the way I smiled at other people. It was just another little thing that only two best friends like us would even know about. "See you tonight," I said.
Then I remembered about tonight. "Oh, shit. I can't tonight. My mom needs me to help her with another one of her fund-raising projects and I have to stuff like a million envelopes and there's the stamps and keeping track of her lists of addresses and all. Man, I'm sorry. I just can't make it."
Of course, I didn't have to work for my mom that night. She was gonna do the project, but she didn't need me to be there. I had made other plans, but those plans were making my stomach churn now.
As I sat in my room after school, all I could think of was how stupid this was and how if anyone found out, I was screwed for life.
I'm not really sure when it started, but I know I had started wondering if I was really as into girls -- you know, sex with girls -- as my friends seemed to be. All they seemed to want to talk about was screwing this girl and how that girl was hot and she really put out. I did the same thing, of course, but mine was pretty much fantasies fueled by a little computer porn. My sex life was really pretty lame. Nobody knew that part about me. Not even Billy.
Then I was watching some stupid TV show with my mom and there was this part where a guy was talking about how gay men were really into each others' bodies. How they spend all their time working out and checking each other out. And I thought, oh my god, that's me. I do that!
But, I kept thinking I can't be gay. Right? I had a girlfriend and we made out pretty heavy every week. I didn't get as far with her as I wanted, but I tried. I couldn't be gay. I never even touched a guy and none had ever touched me, except maybe by accident horsing around in the locker room. But it got me worried. So I started checking stuff out about being gay on the Internet. I was starting to feel better about myself until . . . Bingo! . . . I saw this thing on how gay guys like to eat cum. Shit!
If there was one thing I really liked, it was the taste of my own cum. Warm and sloppy, slurping around in my mouth, bubbling out of my lips, smeared across my mouth. I was a cum hound and had been since . . . well almost since the first time I jacked off. I'd always thought it was so great that god had given me a sperm fountain of my very own, one with a pump strong enough to shoot cum all the way into my mouth . . . if I aimed it right. And then with time and practice . . . a lot of practice . . . I developed a technique where I could get my cum straight in my mouth almost without fail.
So I figured I was screwed, because I was pretty sure I must be gay and it made me sick. I thought that if I was gay, I'd just have to fake it with Ellie. If I was gay, I guess I must have been faking it for a long time anyway.
Ellie seemed fine with what we did for sex. But Billy . . . if he found out, and how could he not figure it out eventually . . . he'd freak and I'd have lost my best friend for life. And I couldn't let that happen. I could live without Ellie as a girlfriend, but I couldn't lose Billy as my best friend.
That's why I was going to meet Justin. He was the only gay guy I knew at all and I thought I could trust him. I had done him a favor. Not even Billy knew this. It was no big deal. The year before, he had a project due and no time to do it. He'd heard I'd had a similar project the year before and wanted to know if he could use part of my project and he'd change it around. No one would ever know. I didn't know how he even had the balls to ask me. He was a year younger and wasn't exactly in my league. Plus he was gay. But he was real nice about it and, for some reason, I had said yes.
Scared as I was sitting there in my room that afternoon, I guess I should have been glad I had done that favor, because I needed Justin to tell me how to know if I was really gay. Or maybe he'd just know. I'd heard of gaydar. Maybe it was real. God help me if Justin said I was.
I was scared that afternoon. Scared Justin would say I was gay. Scared Justin could try to blackmail me. He seemed like a nice guy. I wanted to trust him. I needed to trust him.
Then I started to get scared that Justin could seduce me. Shit, what if he tried to seduce me. I was pretty sure any gay guy who thought they had a shot at scoring my cock would make a try. After all I am a jock with a nice enough body. And after I told him I thought I might be gay, he'd probably go for it. Shit, what would that be like?
I decided I'd be less susceptible to being seduced if I'd shot my load just before I went there. So I locked my bedroom door, even though the house was empty. And I stripped off my jeans. That was all I had on, since a year or so ago I'd started going commando most of the time. Was that gay, too? I wondered.
Anyway, I sat on the end of my bed naked, right where I had sat that first time with Billy years earlier. And I gave a tug to my now-much-longer, bigger cock. I'm not sure how big it was that first time when Billy walked in on me, but it had grown. Now it was at least eight inches when it was hard. And even as nervous as I was, it was getting hard in my hand.
I got up and reached for the baby oil I kept handy. Oh, that felt so good. Smooth and silky as I ran my fist gently up and down my lengthening dick. Holding it tight at the base, I jerked my fist a little and then ran my hand up and twisted it around my swelling cockhead. My cockhead turned deep purple when it was really hard and the skin on it stretched so smooth and tight it looked like it could pop. Right then, as I gently jacked it, it felt so hard and hot in my hand. I gave it a squeeze. It felt so good, I gave it another and then another. I knew I wasn't going to last long.
I lay back on my bed and propped my hips up as high as I could with my hands. I shifted around a bit until my cock was positioned directly above my face. I loved this position, staring up at my hard cock. That purple cockhead smiling at me with those flared lips ready to shoot my cum at me. Every bulging vein in my fat cock popping as more and more blood pumped through them to make my cock even harder. My ball sac was already pulled up tight as I jacked myself with one hand, using the other to keep myself steady.
Then I did my trick, something I had learned to do and learned to love. I bent as far over as I could until my dick just touched my lips. I could reach out and touch my dick with my tongue. So I did. My warm wet tongue worked its way around my hot swollen cockhead and I was in heaven. My tongue caressed my cock, the tip touching all around the flaring edge of my smooth, slick cockhead. I let my tongue play across the most sensitive areas. It only took a few more tongue slurps and I knew I was gonna blow.
So I stroked myself a couple of time. Up and down the full length of my hard cock. From my balls to my cockhead. Every stroke made me want this moment to last. Every stroke brought me closer to the brink. My fingers tight. My cock hard. My cum surging. My lips waiting. I could feel the pressure build as I opened my mouth. And then I came. And came and came. A full day is a long time to go and I had built up quite a load. Loads of cum were shooting into my mouth, warm and salty and slippery on my tongue. I could smell the scent of sea air. I had to swallow after the first three blasts and, as I did, the fourth cum blast hit my cheek. I caught the rest of it in my mouth. The last of my cum dripped in stringy globs from the tip of my dick to my mouth.
Then I lowered my hips. I held the final cum loads in my mouth, savoring them. Opening my lips just enough to make little cum bubbles form. I went to my mirror to see. I loved seeing my cum on my lips, tasting it in my mouth, feeling it in my throat. I watched the shot I missed as it dripped down my cheek. What a waste! I never ate my cum if it didn't go straight in. Straight from my sperm fountain to my taste buds. God I loved jacking off in my mouth. Even as I gazed at the cum on my lips, I was still stroking my cock, which had only softened a little.
I looked at the clock. I had time for another round before I met Justin.
To Be Continued . . .
AUTHOR"S NOTE: The names and some other identifying information in this story have been changed to conceal the identities of the characters described. The copyright for this story is held by Hardreader. The story may not be reprinted or distributed elsewhere without the permission of the author. I would love to received comments on this story from readers at hardreader2000@aol.com