Jess' Story Chapter 4 From Jess' viewpoint
I wanted to do the right things for Anne. I really wanted to help her with Paul. Helping her would be kinda like repaying Justin and Billy for all they had done for me to help me find my way.
But I guess I didn't really know how to help Anne. She was so closed in by her fears and her parents and all of that stuff we get dumped on us.
I held her hand in mine just above my aching cock, trying to decide what to do. I could feel resistance from her. She wasn't ready to touch a guy's dick. At least not my dick. Not right then anyway.
But the aching need in my cock was so strong. Like there was a force field of sexual pressure that it was generating. Like that force field was hugging my swollen dick. Making it ache. Making it throb. I was torn between her needs and mine. I struggled with it for what seemed like forever, but was probably no more than a second.
"You don't have to if you don't want to," I said to Anne in a tone that I thought sounded like Justin's voice when he was being helpful. At least I tried to sound like that. I let go of her hand. I could see it hovering above my hard cock, which was still shut away in the fabric of my cargo shorts.
Her hand remained frozen. So close but so far. My cock began to twitch with need. "But you can touch me if you want. You can get an idea what Paul's should feel like when he gets . . ." I paused looking for the right word. A word that wouldn't upset or scare Anne. ". . . when he is attracted to you."
For the first time since this all started, she looked me directly in the eyes. She seemed to be pleading for me to give her a sign. To let her know it was OK. I just gave a little nod of my head and a small smile.
Anne bit her lower lip and looked down at my crotch. Or maybe at her hand. My gaze followed hers.
"It's OK," I said again so gently I could hardly believe it was me talking. Particularly since I was so jiggy I thought I could explode at any second.
Her hand went slowly to my hard cock. She knew where it was. She knew what it was. And now . . . Oh my fucking god, now she was running her fingers gently up and down its length. I stopped breathing. I think my mouth fell slack. I let out a sigh. Mostly just my breath but a slight groan as well.
I was so turned on and tuned into her touch, my eyelids were drooping closed. The strength was going out of my body. I was almost limp. Except for my throbbing cock.
Her fingers were making their second trip from the base of my rigid cock toward the tip. As they slowly passed over the ridge of my cockhead, my dick twitched under her touch.
She drew her hand away quickly. As I looked up to see her face, she was already headed back toward the window. Her refuge.
I couldn't resist. I couldn't stop myself if I tried. Not that I did try. My hand went straight to my cock and stroked it through the fabric of my cargoes. The long familiar stroke I had practiced for almost 10 years. I wanted to cum so bad right then.
I didn't know what to say. Or do. Should I leave? Should I try to talk to her about it? See what she was thinking? What she wanted to know? What she needed to know?
But before I could sort through all of that, she asked in a very timid, little-girl voice, "You liked it, didn't you? That . . . what I did . . . that felt good to you?"
"Oh yeah," I said, probably too enthusiastically, but she seemed to take it OK.
"You weren't pretending, you know, to make me feel good or anything?" she asked.
"Naw, not at all," I said. She was still looking out the window and I was stroking my cock, but going easy because I didn't want to cum just then. It didn't seem the cool thing to do.
"So is that all there is to it?" she asked, turning around slowly. Fortunately I caught her movement out of the corner of my eye, because I had been staring at Paul's picture. It must have been like the screensaver on her laptop or something. I left my hand on my throbbing cock, but stopped stroking it. I didn't want to upset her in any way.
I was so thrown off by her looking at me and the aching in my cock and nuts, which were pulled up so damn tight, I completely lost track of the conversation. But I knew she had asked me something.
"I'm sorry, what did you say."
"I asked if there was anything else I needed to do or know," Ann repeated.
"Well . . ." I was at a loss for words again. How should I put this? Or should I just let it go? Had we done enough for one lesson today? Enough to keep Paul interested in her?
The powerful feeling raging in my own cock and nuts at the moment was my clear answer. No guy wanted to be left like this. Not by a girl? Not by another guy? It didn't matter. The guy was gonna want more. I sure as hell did.
"Well, guys have certain needs," I started tentatively.
"Oh, we studied that in sex education," she said, sort of dismissing the importance of what I was trying to explain.
"Well, they can be really powerful needs and he may want to . . . you know . . . eject his . . . his semen . . . You understand what I'm saying?" Anne looked away and nodded yes. "Well, Paul might feel like he needs to . . ." So much of this was almost impossible to talk about with her.
There was a long silence between us. She wasn't looking at me.
I broke the silence. I had to. I had been trying to hold off, but I needed to . . .
"I really need to get off before I go to class. Do you mind if . . ."
"I can't. No. That's something . . . No," she said and returned to her spot at the window.
"Well, do you mind if I just take care of it myself?"
Her only answer was a slight shrug. I took it to mean she didn't care, but wasn't gonna get involved. I thought about going into the bathroom, but then changed my mind. I thought maybe she might change her mind when she realized the opportunity she had at hand. Maybe she really did want to know more. See more. Experience more.
Maybe I had something more to teach her that day that would help. I stayed where I was.
I opened my shorts and let my cock stand free. It looked bigger than usual to me. Maybe just having it out and hard there in Anne's room changed how it looked to me. But I think it looked bigger.
I spit into the palm of my hand. When I wrapped my fingers around my cock, I could feel the slime of my spit spreading around on my raging cock. My hand starting to glide easier over the taut skin on my cockhead, It was so damn swollen, almost purple with the blood filling it. It was begging for this attention. The power and strength in it. So damn hard! So warm. So demanding of my attention.
I started to stroke. At first I thought maybe Anne would hear that familiar sound of a guy jacking off. But maybe she wouldn't know what it was. Probably not. Maybe she didn't even hear it. I kept looking over at Paul's picture still up on her laptop. It seemed to give me a bit of inspiration. Anne sure as hell wasn't.
I decided to try to attract her attention. As I twisted my hand back and forth around the head of my cock, I let out a gentle sigh. No reaction from Anne.
I cupped my balls with my other hand and started stroking more aggressively, focusing more and more on Paul's picture and the thought that it could be his hand stroking me instead of my own. Within a minute or two, my cock was getting close. I started to moan. That deep guttural moan that guys make when they're getting close. No reaction from Anne.
Something in me said that Anne should see me cum. It was part of what she needed to know. Needed to see. Needed to experience. Touching Paul's dick . . . touching any guy's dick through their pants was not gonna be enough to keep them happy. She needed to understand. Sooner rather than later, the guy was gonna need to get off. Or move on. That's just how guys are.
Finally I was going at my cock wicked furious. Not my usual approach, but it was getting me where I needed and wanted to get. The image of Paul stripped to the waist with his hand working the head of my cock was plastered in my brain. Giving my cock and nuts the buzz they needed to bust things wide open.
"Fuck! Oh fuck! Fuck me hard! Goddamn fuck!" I was calling out like any guy about to cum and at last I had Anne's attention. She turned around so fast and gasped when she saw me beating my meat like that.
I thought she'd look away real fast, but instead she stood transfixed. Staring at me. Well, not so much at me as at my raging cock about to explode.
Some instinct inside me told me to slow down. Be more gentle. Show her another way.
I let my head fall back and started slow fisting my dick. I was running my tongue across my lips, imagining I was kissing Paul. His picture had really worked its way into my head.
As I thought of him, or maybe it was Justin or Billy . . . I guess it didn't really matter . . . just a hot guy sucking my tongue damn near down his throat, I felt my cum begin to rise.
I raised my hips. Pulled my shirt up as high as I could. I felt the surge beginning in my nuts. The overpowering sensations. Then I came. Two hard long shots. One to my neck. One to my cheek. Warm and wet. I moaned and groaned as quietly as I could, while the rest of my cum began to flow and spill from my swollen cocklips and flow over my fist. Dripping off my knuckles onto my abs.
I couldn't resist putting my hand to my mouth. Sucking in as much of my fresh cum as I could get to cling to my fingers. I loved that taste. The smell. The freshness of it. It was then that Anne turned away again.
As I got that first salty taste, it triggered a fresh surge of cum from my cock. I reached down and swiped the freshest from the tip of my cock with the end of my index finger and sampled that, too.
I looked down at my body. I was a mess. There was a lot of jizz splattered across my chest and pooling on my abs. I needed to clean up.
"Anne," I said as politely as I could.
"Are you finished?" she asked. It wasn't harsh. It wasn't angry. It sounded kind of sad. I didn't understand then. But as I think back on it, I guess this marked the end of her innocence. I had taken that from her without even touching her. And it made her sad, I guess.
"Do you have a towel or rag or something I could use to clean up?"
Turning so as not to look at me, she went in the bathroom and came back with a huge towel. Like a beach towel.
I was surprised when I saw her face. She was looking at me as she handed the towel to me. "Here," she said, holding it out.
As I took it from her I saw her look down at the cum splattered across my body. She continued to surprise me by almost studying it from where she stood. She was clearly looking at my jizz rather than me or my shrinking dick.
As I started to wipe the cum from my face, she turned politely around as though this were something girls should never watch. I finished cleaning up as best I could and then lowered my shirt and closed up my shorts.
I guess she could hear or sense or whatever that I was done and she turned around and sat across from me.
"I hope you're not mad at me for . . ." She held up her hand to silence me.
"No, I asked you to come here to help me make sure . . ." She didn't seem able to finish.
After a brief and awkward silence, I said, "I just . . ." She raised her hand to stop me again.
"It's OK. I guess I need to know all this. Whatever happens, I guess I need to know. I can't imagine. . ." She sat silently again, searching for words. "I can't believe you did this for me. It can't have been easy for you. I may have seemed . . . upset or uptight or something like that, but I'm OK. This was . . ."
"That's OK," I reassured her. "You don't need to explain. I was glad to help. A friend once helped me in kind of the same situation. So I understand. I just hope it works out better for you than it did for me." And I meant that sincerely.
I told her – using the politest words I could think of -- what else I thought she needed to know. Some guys are bigger. Some smaller. She knew about how some guys aren't cut like me. I told her all guys don't cum the same. Some more. Some less. Some shoot. Some dribble. Some go fast. Some flow. Just stuff like that. But as fast and politely as I could.
Then I just wanted to get out of there. She had listened. I hoped she had learned. I really wanted her to be able to make this guy Paul happy, even though I didn't think she was ready to try much of what we'd been talking about.
As I got up to leave, I saw a string of my cum on the bed where I had been sitting. I thought for a second that I should clean it up. But I decided she needed to start dealing with the reality of all of this. Cleaning up cum is about as real as it gets.
I was leaving her dorm when I saw a guy starting to cross the street toward me. At first I thought he looked like that picture of Paul, only with his shirt on. But that didn't make sense. Paul wasn't due for hours.
I had to walk right by the guy as I crossed the street in the opposite direction. I couldn't stop staring at him. The closer he got the more certain I was that he had to be the guy in the picture.
He must have noticed me staring because as we got just about five feet apart, I could see him looking me up and down. As his eyes came back up to mine, I nodded to him. Just a guy nod. He nodded back and then smiled.
With that I was past him. I so wanted to look back at him one more time, but fought the urge. I even toyed with the idea of turning around and heading back toward Anne's so I could . . . What? Get a better look? It was just an idea. I didn't do it.
As I heard the clank-clank sound of him opening the door to Anne's dorm, I did look back. I thought I caught him looking away from having taken a final look at me. I couldn't be sure.
To Be Continued . . .
AUTHOR'S NOTE: The characters in this project are real. The names and somebother 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 in print, electronically or digitally without the permission of the author. I would love to receive comments on this story from readers. Email me at hardreader2000@aol.com
While you're waiting for the next episode, I hope you'll stay happy. And stay hard! -- H.R.