Valentine for Tom
The sun woke me up the next morning. I squinted at the clock and saw it was late but no classes till afternoon, so I could snooze another half hour and still make it to breakfast. I rolled over, pulled the blanket around my shoulders and realized that my cock was swelling. I ran my hand over my Jockeys and enjoyed how good it felt. I stroked slowly, luxuriated in a slow blow and afterglow, then I mused.
My mind went back to yesterday and the image of Tom standing over me naked, dark hair, fair skin, blue eyes -- a strapping young black Irishman in his prime full of Irish bravado and humor with a wash of Virginia country. I breathed deeper, longing, with a budding sense that my appetite for him was growing, as if the high of that one delicious, intoxicating blowjob only fed my lust for another. Then, was it lust, or maybe more? Maybe's echoed in my head, like maybe he'll fuck me, maybe he's gay, maybe he's bi -- after all he didn't say no. I marveled that I had the guts to ask him to fuck me. Then a pang of regret. Maybe I went too far. Then a memory from somewhere in the back of my mind filtered up -- of something I half heard through my intoxication -- something about his father's cheesy cock, and a lesson about how to suck and love and -- maybe fuck? And then some look of crisis and failure on Tom's face. Everything mixed together, stirring my groin, so I stroked faster till I heard the sound of something like men moaning and flesh slapping against sweaty flesh, it was coming from Tom's side of the room.
I sat up and saw that the laptop on his desk was still on and the ear plugs were lying on his rumpled bed. That guy was macho but really messy. I got up to turn it off and saw what he had been watching -- gay porn, and what I saw was familiar, a handsome hunk with black hair topping a lean dark skinned guy with his butt in the air and his face in the pillow. They were close. Bottom said "fuck me, seed me, fuck me faster" and the top pushed harder, pulled up over the bottom's back, bucked harder, turned his face to the camera and muttered "Oh god I'm cumming." He withdrew from the juicy hole and the camera zoomed in as he came all over the bottom's back, screaming and oohing and clutching the guy as he spurted, pumping up and down in the crevice of his ass, sliding through his own copious cum, his cock glistening as it spurted until he collapsed on the bottom. All standard porn but still delicious. I wanted to be the bottom with Tom on top and maybe he wanted that too or why would he be watching gay porn first thing in the morning?
The video ended and looped back to the start. I checked the clock and there was just time to catch breakfast, but there was the problem of my raging boner. Then I noticed Tom's whitey briefs all crumpled in a wad at the bottom of my bed. What the hell? Talk about messy. I picked them up and felt that they were cool and wet, very wet. I raised them to my nose and inhaled, deeply. Tom's smell, some fresh, some funky and stale but all sweet, sailed into me. It hit me that the wet was Tom's cum, oozy and shiny and still wet in the morning light. He must have jacked and cum watching that porn and then rushed off to class. My god, he shot a load into his briefs and left it for me!
I pressed his briefs closer to my nose and a fresh wave of lust washed over me. I tasted the wonderful gooey mess and saw Tom exploding into them, sucked as much as I could wring out of the cloth, savored and swallowed. He jacked off and left them just for me, like a valentine. I was thrilled like a middle schooler. Maybe his briefs were an answer to my maybes or maybe -- who knew -- something more.
The whole memory pushed me to the brink. My cock beckoned -- `make us cum' -- three strokes and I exploded into Tom's whities, one, two three spasms. Not as much as first thing, but enough to make a statement. I watched my cum mix with his and darken the fine white mesh. I could have eaten us together right then.
I wiped my cock clean on his briefs and spread them carefully on his bed, like a telegram responding to his valentine. If he'd been with me, I'd have kissed him.
And there was still time for breakfast.