Oscar

Oscar, Part 2

Lying on Adam's bed, his gloopy, salty fingers sliding out of my mouth as billions of his finest swimmers plummeted to the depths of my stomach, and my own congealed in my belly button, wasn't the last time I'd feel the sharp prickles of fear burn over my body after taking a load.

But, I have to admit, it's up there with the scariest.

Straightening himself upright his face became partially hidden in darkness. His body tensed. The room went silent. Something primal inside of me jolted awake. Uh oh.

`What the fuck are you doing, you filthy faggot?'

Now don't get me wrong; I'd heard those words before. Especially the last one. Those delightful six letters would always manage to find their way to my ears at break or lunch, or from cars of lads to and from school. And online, of course.

I quickly learned that while those chat windows of infinite possibilities were perfect for boys to hang their dirty laundry and stop it from gathering mould and stinking out their minds, they could often be stained with unkindness. But only after they'd had their fun.

When it was all over and reality came crashing back fear would be waiting. They'd be petrified of their fantasies, now transformed into inescapable black facts on white screens, shuddering violently at the chill of truth once the winds of climax recede and secrets glare out from more than one screen.

You get the picture.

As I've said before, logic's your friend in these situations, usually gift wrapped in straight boy slang and guarantees like "I promise I'll delete the convo" or `I don't want to fuck up our fun, man". I promise, bro. Dude. Mate. That'll result in a repeat performance of the good stuff, or at least no more faces or fists to avoid by the lockers.

But without the QWERTY line of defence it's infinitely more confronting. Especially when he's your size and a half, height and width, with fists like bricks and pinning you down with his entire body. You have to think very carefully about what you do next.

And what's that they say about fight and flight? When you can't do one you do the other, right?

In an instant my upper lip raised in a snarl, adrenaline pumped through my veins and my fists clenched shut. My eyes darted to his flesh. He was close enough that I could sink my teeth into somewhere very sensitive and very delicate and he certainly wouldn't want to inadvertently clamp my jaw any tighter.

But a lot can happen in half a second of reaction time. He could move. He could punch me before I even tried. If I could at least do maximum damage before the untold carnage to my face began, I thought to myself, I would wake happy. If I woke.

To my relief it was all for nothing. Adam, it seemed, liked to play games. I should have seen it coming. He was the captain of the rugby team after all.

`Get the fuck off me.'

`Whoa, Oscar, buddy, I'm kidding.'

`Don't call me buddy.'

`Look, honestly, I'm joking.'

And he was. Or at least when he gently pushed me back onto the mattress, shuffled towards my feet, put two hands either side of my waist and licked every one of my abs clean with his big, flat tongue, it was a pretty convincing performance.

`Trust me now?' he said looking up with a glazed grin before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

In the panic, for a moment, I'd forgotten where and who I was with. But from that angle, in the lamplight, past my chest rising and falling slower and slower as my heart calmed and my extra testosterone fizzled into embarrassment; past my abdomen glistening with his saliva, I remembered.

Damn he was handsome. His eyes were stunning. They really had been twinkling under the light in his hallway. And while in the gentle glow of his bedroom the blue was almost gone, the gleam was not. I couldn't stay angry at that face, no matter how stupid it was.

He'd missed a spot.

`You've still got some on you,' I said, sitting up, leaning in, putting a hand around his neck and pulling him down so I could kiss his lower lip clean. I returned the favour. Then I tightened my grip and punched him hard in the stomach.

He tensed his powerful abs in time and they effortlessly stopped my fist in its tracks. He grinned.

`I deserved that,' he said.

Pushing me back down and himself backwards to standing he pulled his tracksuit trousers back up, whipping the waistband against himself. His deflating cock still made an impressive mound.

For a minute we said nothing. Him standing. Me sitting. Him grinning like an idiot. Me savouring his flavour all through my mouth; on my tongue, in between my teeth. Both shirtless. Both pleased with ourselves.

It was me that broke the silence by picking up his box of goodies. Click-click went the plastic blue fasteners on each side of the lid. From the smell I could tell it was good weed. Sickly sweet it crumbled nicely between my fingers. I rolled a joint, sat up against his headboard and lit it.

`Almost as good as mine,' he said, sliding in next to me through the fresh haze. Our bare shoulders and feet touched. Both faces faced forward, at least one too preoccupied to register what it was looking at. Too many distractions for the other senses.

`In your wet dreams,' I said, passing over the joint before draining the dregs of my beer I'd put on the bedside table. It was warm but still tasty. Everything at Adam's was.

`For a moment I thought you really were gonna smack me there.'

`Yeah, I'm sorry. It was stupid of me.'

`It's alright. It was kinda funny.'

`Yeah?'

`Kinda'

`Yeah, sorry again.'

`All good man.'

He passed the joint back and I took two full drags. We kept eye contact the whole time. There was more to this guy than I thought.

`I wasn't expecting that,' I said eventually.

`What? You and me?'

`No. I knew that would happen.'

`Fuck off.'

`Nah, come on, of course I did.'

`How?'

`It's not like I predicted the exact outcome, but I'm no idiot. You think you're the only guy to add me on MSN since everyone found out–'

`You suck dick in bowling alley toilets?'

I took a long drag of the joint, held it in for three counts and blew it, slowly, in his face. He didn't move. Didn't even flinch. He just stared, smirking through the fog a foot from my lips, until I passed him the joint again.

`He sucked my dick, alright? But yeah, since everyone found out. I didn't expect you to be so cool with it.'

`Cool with what?'

`Being like me.'

`Like you?'

`Being a filthy faggot.'

`Oh. Right.'

`Yeah. Most guys aren't as ok with it. They're nervous. It's kinda hot sometimes.'

I laughed and turned, but he wasn't smiling. He looked sad.

Taking two more drags he dropped the joint in his own almost finished bottle. The sizzle of the extinguishing cherry echoed up the neck and lingered in the air alongside its final wisps of heavy grey.

`I'm not gay,' he said.

`Sure you're not,' I said gesturing to my stomach, crusting slightly under an invisible layer of dried saliva and cum.

I'm not,' he said turning his body to me. He rested his head in his hand, propped up by his elbow on the mattress. I'm bi.'

`Really?'

`What's that supposed to mean?'

`You're not the first guy to tell me that either.'

Although, in his defence, he was the first I believed. I'm not entirely sure why. Call it intuition, or a gut reaction. Pun intended. Or maybe it was just the look in his eyes. Lost. Unsure. I shifted my position to match his. Our noses were almost touching.

He said nothing.

`You alright?'

`No one's ever going to believe me.'

`I believe you.'

`No you don't.'

`Adam, mate, I do. I'm sorry I didn't take you seriously but come on, can you blame me?'

`I guess not.'

`Why so sad?'

`I'm not sad. It's just fucked up. If two girls make out they're not automatically branded dykes for the rest of their lives. But if a guy likes lads as well as girls then he's just gay. That's it. Nothing else.'

`It's not so bad, you know?'

`You wouldn't understand.'

Get a grip you fucking pussy. Is what I wanted to say. Even though I didn't blame any of them for staying in the closet, it didn't mean I had any patience when they came bitching about their lives to me. I didn't choose when to come out. I didn't have that luxury.

Instead I said, `Society's fucked up, man.'

`True.'

`So, when did you know?'

`That I liked guys too?'

`Yeah.'

`Remember Mr Price?'

`How could I forget?'

How could anyone forget Mr Price is Right? Hands down the sexiest sports teacher our school ever had. Six-foot-two, late twenties, hairy legs always, always on show under tiny rugby shorts no matter the weather. Shaved head, green eyes, strong jaw, big arms. Perfection.

Then one day he went crazy. Literally started screaming at the pigeons in the courtyard. No one knows what happened to him. Or so I thought.

`Right?'

`No.'

He nodded, sucking in air between his teeth.

You lucky fuck,' I said. Now we're talking. When?'

`Year nine.'

`What, you were fourteen?'

`Fifteen, but even then I looked about twenty.'

`True.'

`At first he was just a good teacher. I was already his height and still growing so he must have known I was a natural for rugby. He'd give me extra pointers after school and would drive me home. To be honest I thought he fancied my mum.'

`But?'

`But then one afternoon after practice I got a call from home. My grandad had fallen over and was in the hospital. He was fine but I'd gone outside to take the call and it lasted for ages. By the time I got back there was no one else in the changing rooms except for him.'

I pictured it. Row after row of metal benches in a foggy, muddy room. White tiled walls wet with condensation from the showers. Mr Price's office in the far right corner. I'd played rugby before, back when sport was a compulsory subject. I knew how it would have looked. How it would have smelt and how it would have felt; the heat from twenty or so sweaty lads still radiating in the air.

`He was at his computer with his back to me. He didn't hear me come in so I just started to get undressed. Then I heard a woman moaning.'

`Porn.'

`Got it in one. He was jerking off.'

`What I would give.'

`Mate, it gets even better.'

`I'm all ears.'

His eyes lit up. He probably hadn't told this story to anyone before and he was loving. And so was I. With empty balls my cock still twitched under my Calvin Kleins.

`Back then I already knew there was something different about me. I definitely liked girls, but sometimes in the showers I'd see one or two of the lads and I'd start getting. You know.'

`Yeah man. I do.'

`Anyway, I crept forward like a ninja. I only had shorts on at this point so it was easy. I got to the door frame and watched. I could see it all. The bird on the screen getting fucked from behind by some giant cock, Mr Price with his rugby shorts down by his ankles, his t-shirt lifted up to his nipples, his cock in his hand, slowly beating himself off. It was beautiful.'

`How big was he?'

`I dunno in inches but he was big. Bigger than me and mine was pretty big back then I can assure you.'

`I wouldn't doubt it in a million years.'

He smiled and winked at me.

`You like this story?'

I did. Big time. I was already rubbing my hand over the rock solid bulge in my jeans.

`It's alright.'

`You ain't heard nothing yet.'

`Keep going.'

`So I watched. Watched for ages. It was probably minutes but it felt like hours. I was transfixed. I'd never dared to look at gay porn before and there I was metres away from Mr fucking Price about to blow a nut all over himself. But just when I thought he was about to shoot he stopped, paused the video and said, without turning, "I know you're there matey".'

`No fucking way.'

`Yes, way.'

`What happened?'

`I froze like a statue. At first I considered grabbing my stuff and just running, but I couldn't move. Thank fuck I didn't because by the time my feet decided to start working he reached over to the spare chair with his free hand and pulled it next to him.'

I knew exactly which chair he meant. I'd sat on it before. Mr Price always had this big cushy black chair and I remember being in his office once, sat on the uncomfortable green fabric bog standard spare and wishing I was on his. On him to be precise. Now the shit chair suddenly seemed way more appealing.

`He wanted you to join.'

`Yup. He just pulled it over and patted the top. Didn't say a word.'

`Tell me you joined him.'

`Of course I did. I didn't hesitate. I walked straight over, sat down and pulled out my cock. He didn't even look at me he just pressed play.'

`Whoa.'

`Yeah it was hot. So hot. I had to slow down so many times. I wanted to blow when he did. I kept looking at him from the corner of my eyes but he never took his off the screen. He just pumped and pumped as this chick with giant tits got smashed by some guy with tatts.'

`Shame.'

`That's what I thought. Until he was about to blow.'

`What happened?'

`His breath started getting heavier and his legs started tensing. At this point it could have been EastEnders on the screen, I wasn't watching. I was watching him. Watching his muscles flex and his arm work faster and faster. Then he started making these deep, throaty grunts and I knew what was coming.'

I closed my eyes and I could see him. Hear him. His shaved head rolling back on his shoulders, his chest filling with air, every muscle in his legs bulging like a bodybuilder.

`But, before he blew, he reached across with his free hand and clamped it on my leg. Then he turned, stared straight into my eyes, dug his fingers and thumb into my quads as hard as he could and unloaded himself all over his stomach.'

My cock ached to be free. Free from my jeans and in my hand. I could feel pre-cum soak through my underwear to my leg. But not yet. There was more.

`How big was his load?'

`Huge. It shot out of him and kept on pouring. It went all the way up his stomach and on his shirt but he didn't care. He just squeezed my leg harder and harder, staring straight at me.'

`Did you blow?'

`I didn't even need to touch myself. I was already so close when he grabbed me. When I felt his hand, another bloke's hand, and then watched him unleash his giant load from the biggest dick I'd ever seen, mine just exploded. I didn't even know it could do that.'

For a few minutes neither of us said anything. We were lost in images. I replayed every second of his story in my mind. I knew exactly how it would have played out. He was no doubt relishing a memory relived. A secret shared.

It was his turn to break the silence this time.

`Man, I'm fucking hard as a rock.'

`Me too.'

`What shall we do?'

`I have a few ideas.'

To be continued ...

Learn more about Jack Ladd and Oscar's adventures at www.jackladd.org Copyright Jack Ladd 2015

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