Jess' Story Chapter 7 From Jess' viewpoint
I worried all evening about my decision to show Anne that chapter of "I Though I Knew." I almost called her a couple of times to tell her not to bother to read it. Just throw it away. But I never did call. I just worried. And wondered what she would think of it. What she would think of me.
Later, as I was trying to go to sleep, I was sure all my worrying was going to make me have that damn dream. And I really didn't want to have that dream again. I thought my plan with Anne was backfiring on me. What had I been thinking?
The next morning she still hadn't called. My phone rang twice while I was at Subway eating lunch. One was from my mother; the other was an automated reminder I had a book overdue at the library.
3 o'clock.
4 o'clock.
No call. Should I call her? Tell her not to bother?
Finally at 4:17 . . . I was that obsessed with it that I remember to the minute when Anne called.
"Is that you Jess? Where are you? It doesn't sound like you," she started off. I thought I could hear anger in her voice.
"Oh, I was just going to call you to tell you that you can just throw that stuff I gave you away. It's not all that important," I said.
"Well, mister, it's a little late for that don't you think? Now I've read it. I can't believe you asked me to read that. I can't believe you would ask anyone to read that," she said.
My stomach cramped. It felt like she'd knocked the wind out of me. I could hardly speak. "So I guess that answers my question," I managed to choke out as apologetically as I could.
"Well, you asked for my opinion, so I guess I should tell you. No person I know would ever want to read such a thing. It's sick and perverted. And if you really wrote that and if that's really about you, I don't think we can be friends anymore. It is completely . . ."
"We can't be friends?" I broke in. "You really mean that? Just because when I was in high school I wondered if maybe I was gay or bi or whatever?"
"I think you need help. Like professional help. If you are really thinking about showing something like that to people that you know and care about, you really need help."
"Well, I guess, thanks for your time and stuff. I didn't mean to upset you. You can just throw it away. Oh, and please don't share it with anyone else. I'm not sure what I want to do. That's why I asked you and I guess you gave me my answer. I hope, you know, that we can still be friends. I'm not a sicko or whatever. I'm the same guy I've always been. You know me. So maybe . . ."
She cut me off saying, "I thought I knew you but now I'm not so sure. Not so sure at all. I've got to go." Click. She was gone.
I was so upset. I sat on my bed. I would never tell anyone. And I would have to hope that no one ever figured it out that I was Jess in this damned story. I wished to hell I had never told Anne. Until the day before . . . Shit! Anne was really the only way my secret could leak out. Why hadn't I thought this all through before?
After about half an hour of feeling like shit about this whole thing, I started to get angry with H.R. He'd talked me into this. And once he had, he'd turned my life into porn just so he could get guys to blow their goddamn loads. That was all he thought about. Cum. Cum. Cum. And fucking more cum! I was so angry and upset with him. With myself. With Anne for being so mean. Such a fucking bitch!
I wanted to call Billy and Justin. I just needed to talk to someone. Those guys would understand what I was going through. We'd been through all of this together. But instead of calling, I sat on the edge of my bed and felt sorry for myself. I even cried a little.
Before I could get it together and call them, my phone rang. I don't know why, but I felt certain it was going to be Anne. When I looked, it just said "Illinois Caller." I figured it couldn't be important. For some reason, I answered it anyway. Maybe just to distract myself from my troubles.
I said hello and waited a moment. There was silence. Then a guy's voice asked, "Is this Jess? Anne's friend Jess?"
Shit, I thought. My crap is already out and I'm gonna get calls from her Bible fucking friends giving me shit.
"Who is this?" I demanded without ever identifying myself. "And what do you want?"
"It's me. Paul. Paul from lunch yesterday. Is this Jess?" he asked.
"Yeah," I said, still very suspicious. "Did Anne give you this number?"
"No, she didn't. Is this a bad number to call? I got it from a friend of yours. Anne doesn't even know I'm calling you."
"Oh, no, it's my regular number. I just thought maybe you were . . . It doesn't really matter. Hey, if this isn't really important, this isn't such a good time. Can I call you back?"
"Oh, it's not important. I only thought maybe we could get together for lunch sometime this week. I'll just call you back. When would be good?"
Those words changed everything. I still felt like my guts had been run over, but I didn't want to hang up on Paul. As I tried to figure out what to say next, I could picture him looking embarrassed at lunch the day before. Bare-chested in that picture Anne had of him. The picture I jerked off staring at. I could see him looking back at me as he opened the door to Anne's dorm. I felt certain now he was looking back at me. And that meant I was looking back at him. Hmmm?
The way I was starting to feel about Paul felt a lot like the early days with Billy and even more like with Tolley. It was just a feeling. A vibe I got whenever I saw him. Or, I guess, talked to him. Because right then, he was making me feel better. Warm and good inside. And I so needed that.
"That sounds good. Any reason in particular?" I asked after a pause that was a little too long. I wanted to keep this conversation going. It seemed important just then.
"I don't know many people on campus yet and to be honest I'm just trying to make some friends. From what I've learned from Anne and the little bit I saw of you yesterday, I thought you'd be a good guy to start with," he said.
His words sounded so sincere and friendly and very small town. It wasn't the kinda thing guys I had known . . . guys from Chicago . . . would ever do or say . . . unless they were hitting on a guy. And I was pretty sure that Paul . . . Anne's Paul . . . wasn't gonna be hitting on me. Even though I wished he would. And I could sure use a friend. One closer than Justin or Billy. I was just feeling so alone right then.
Plus Paul was sure easy on the eyes and seemed easy enough to talk to. And I was curious how his date with Anne had gone. Had that bitch learned anything at all from me? She would never tell me now, but maybe I could ease it out of him without ever having to explain my part in it all. The thought of that sent a surge of blood rushing to my cock.
I instinctively opened my shorts with my free hand and started stroking my quickly hardening cock. It felt warm and fleshy in my hand. The skin was smooth and silky. I was still soft enough that the flesh moved with my hand. It was so comforting to hold myself this way. Stroke myself as I thought about Paul. His bare chest. That look back over his shoulder. That blush at lunch.
I was getting so hard. So fast.
"Well, I don't usually have time for lunch on Mondays or Wednesdays," I said, hoping he couldn't pick up on the fact that I was jerking my cock while talking to him. "But I could do most any other day," I said. "Or maybe even dinner." Damn, that sounded so needy.
We settled on Tuesday. Picked a vegan place near campus that had great sandwiches and that was that.
After he hung up I stripped naked and lay back on my bed. I lubed my cock generously and started stroking. My cock was so hard. I could feel the ache from it being so hard. So damn hard. I took my hand away so I could look at it. Arched over my abs. Pointing straight toward my face. My cocklips kind of puffy. A little pre-jizz moistening them. The rest of my cockhead so hard it glistened with the lube.
I loved to make my cock twitch and sway. I ran my index finger slowly from my nuts to my cockhead. Just barely touching the underside of my cock. My raging hard-on. Making it rise up as if it was trying to be stroked harder. Stretching to press against my fingertips' caress. I teased myself mercilessly. It felt so good.
Then I thought my little game was going too far. My nuts felt that first sense of churning. The need for release. I knew that if I kept going this would all end too soon in intense pleasure. So I stopped.
I watched my cock twitch. I could feel blood surging into it. Stretching it even more. It was straining to get off on its own. But it couldn't.
I watched as it jerked and slowly softened. Twitched and softened. Slowly sagging from its proud hard stance above my abs.
At last the tip of my cock touched my abs. That sensation made it jump back up. But it wasn't enough to keep me hard. Soon my cock, still long, but not so hard, was lying stretched across my abs to my belly button.
I stared at it as it glistened with the lube. As another drip of pre-jizz oozed from my cocklips. Pooling in my navel. And as I watched myself going soft, I started to think of Paul again. Wondering how big his cock was. Was he cut? Did he leak a lot? Did he cum hard? Or dribble? How did he taste? How did he smell?
Soon I was running my fingers across my smooth, freshly shaved nuts. I loved the way they felt just after I'd shaved them. I was getting turned on again and my hand moved from my nuts to my hole. My index finger toyed with my pucker until it worked its way in to the first knuckle.
My other hand started stroking my cock again. Hard. Proud. Aching. Throbbing in my hand. Not jerking fast, but slow and steady. Imagining my hand was Paul's hand. My cock was his cock. His cock was my cock.
I eased my finger deeper in my hole. Stretching myself. Prodding myself. Imagining it was Paul playing with my asshole. Finger-fucking my hole.
Then two fingers and my mind started to catch fire. I couldn't help it. Paul's cock was like buried in my hole. Plunging in and out. Working me. Stretching me. Filling me.
I felt that urge. That need rising again. I wanted to stop, but in my head I saw Paul look back at me. He smiled. I smiled back. And then . . .
I was cumming. I somehow wasn't ready. I was lost in images of Paul's face. His smile. His cock buried deep in my ass. I was taken by surprise as the first blast hit my cheek. The second streaked my chest. The warm juice from my cock splashing across me. I imagined Paul cumming with me. On me.
I was still pumping cum from my throbbing cock. Still stroking as I dribbled now. No more long shots of fresh cum. But plenty of juice spilling onto my stomach.
I took my hand from my cock and started to spread the warm slimy jizz across my body. Then I licked my hand. Tasting my jizz. It tasted so good. It felt so good to smear my cum around. So much cum. So thick and still warm! And I loved my taste!
Then feelings of regret and loneliness started to creep inside my head. I didn't want another Tolley. I didn't want another Billy. And if I kept thinking the way I was thinking then, that's what I would end up with. Nothing! Nothing but a limp cock and my cooling cum.
If there really was a chance with Paul, and I didn't really think there was, I had to change. But how? I started thinking and found . . . found it wasn't easy. Sex was easy. Changing, that was hard.
To Be Continued . . .
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Jess and I both asked Anne if she would participate in this story, even in a limited way. She has absolutely refused, but she does knowit is being written and posted. The characters in this project are real. 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 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.