Scotty's Tailor
By Ben C.
This story contains sexual acts between young males (t/t, oral, mast, dom). If you don't like it, or it is illegal in your country, please stop reading.
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Chapter 2
"I might stop by for another blowjob," Scotty said and left. I heard the engine of his Mustang roar before he took off.
I sat down in my mom's armchair, trying to comprehend what had happened to me today. When I woke up in the morning, I was expecting just another day at school. But before dusk, I had become a cocksucker. And a cocksucker did not really stand on the top ladder in the social structure of teenaged boys. But I didn't care. Pleasuring Scotty had been the most mind-blowing experience in my young life.
I was shaken from my thoughts when I glanced at the clock on the wall. It was almost six thirty. My mom would be home any minute now. I sprang into action and opened the window to air out the smell of sex from my mom's studio. None too early, as I already heard the familiar rattle of mom's old Nissan from our driveway.
I had to hurry. I scanned the crime scene with my eyes and spotted the towel that Scotty had used to clean himself after his blowjob. I grabbed it quickly and stuffed it into the bottom of the waste bin. Then I untied mom's apron from my waist and placed it back to the coat-rack. I was glad that my hard-on had by now somewhat eased so I was able to cover the bulge with my hands.
My mom opened the door with her keys and looked slightly surprised when he saw me in her studio.
"Why Rick, have you been doing some sewing today?"
"Hi mom. Yeah, I helped a friend with his jeans."
"Well, I'm glad to hear that. You don't have too many friends. Remember to be nice to him."
"I will, mom."
My mom placed her handbag on the table and leaned closer.
At that moment the earth froze around me. My mom was going to kiss my cheek that was covered with Scotty's dried cum. And there was absolutely nothing I could do to prevent that.
Mom kissed my cheek.
"Why Rick, you're wearing a fragrance. What's it called?"
I knew absolutely nothing about fragrances so I had to make something up.
"Well, yeah, it's... it's called... Fresh. Fresh Load."
"Where did you get it?"
"I got it from Scotty. The friend of mine."
"Well, that was nice of him."
Mom leaned closer to sniff my cheek again.
"Fresh Load? I like it. The scent is youthful... but somehow masculine. And your skin looks brisk. This lotion really suits you."
"Umm, thanks mom. I've better go upstairs to do some homework."
"Good. Anytime you need to use the studio to help your friend, just let me know."
"Thanks mom."
I grabbed my backpack and ran the stairs up to my room. I locked the door and sat down at my desk. I opened my computer and chose an image from my picture files. It was a very good shot of Scotty that I had taken for the school paper after a victorious lacrosse game last spring.
Scotty was posing for the camera shirtless, his chiseled body glistering of sweat, a black band tied around his thick blond hair. He was holding his stick behind his neck, showing his biceps and clean-shaven armpits. He was looking straight into the camera, grinning triumphantly. His shorts were hanging low, showing the three-stripe waistband of his light blue Adidas boxers.
I turned the screen so I could see it from my bed and emptied my pockets on the bedcover. My fresh loot consisted of Scotty's light blue Adidas sport boxers, possibly the very same he was wearing in the picture, and a pair of his white Nike ankle socks. The socks were still moist from his sweat. I straightened them and smelled the strong aroma of high school jock's feet.
Then I lay down on my back on the bed and pressed Scotty's boxers on my face. I took a deep breath through my nose, fumbling with the zipper of my shorts and focused my eyes to the image of Scotty on the screen. He seemed to be looking straight into my eyes, grinning cockily. I didn't manage to open my zipper before I shot a huge load of cum in my pants.
I finished Scotty's Nudies the same evening. Then I gave them a gentle hand-wash in a wash tub and hung them on our backyard drying rack. Next morning I woke up earlier than usual so that I had time to iron the jeans. I folded them neatly into my closet so they would be ready any time Scotty wanted them. I sent him a text message to let him know that his jeans were ready.
I waited three days, but there was no message from Scotty. I saw him at school several times, but he ignored me. He was always surrounded by his jock buddies or a group of aspiring girls, so I didn't have the courage to approach him.
Finally, on Friday afternoon, I saw him alone in the hallway, leaning on his locker, chewing gum and tapping his smartphone. He was wearing a grey Hollister hoodie over a black tank top that revealed his tanned chest. His expensive looking factory-worn jeans had rips in strategic spots showing some tanned skin of his thighs. The jeans and his backwards turned white baseball cap matched perfectly with his slightly scuffed white hi-top Converse. Damn, how did he manage to look so hot, just standing there?
I walked over to him.
"Hi, Scotty," I greeted him.
He glanced up and frowned when he saw me. I could tell from his hostile gaze that I had made a mistake.
Scotty looked quickly around to see if someone was watching us.
"Don't you ever approach me in public, dude. Ever," he hissed.
"Sorry, Scotty," I mumbled, regretting my mistake.
I was just about to walk away when he said,
"You know the old football team locker room in the basement?"
I nodded. The team had been rewarded with a fancy new locker room after they won the state championship last year. The old one was now deserted.
"Be there in five minutes," Scotty said and turned away.
I waited in the hallway, checking the time from my phone. After four minutes I headed downstairs to the basement. I had to wait another five minutes until Scotty came down the stairs. He fetched a key ring from his backpack and opened the door. Obviously he had somehow gained legal access there.
Scotty went in and I followed him. The football team locker room was a natural environment for him but a strange and intimidating place for me. It reeked of jock sweat. He locked the door, removed his hoodie and hung it on one of the hooks on the wall.
"I'm sorry, Scotty," I started.
"I didn't mean to embarrass you. I just wanted to ask if you want your jeans back now. Just let me know and I'll bring them to you."
Scotty didn't pay any attention to my babble. He glanced at his TagHeuer watch.
"I've got ten minutes," he said, chewing his gum.
I just stared him, puzzled. He didn't need ten minutes to tell me when he wanted his jeans back.
Scotty stripped his tank top off and threw it on one of the wooden benches. He looked at me with an impatient expression on his handsome face.
"Why the fuck are you still standing there, dude?"
I tried to swallow, but my mouth had suddenly turned dry. I sank down to my knees on the cold tiled floor. Scotty stepped closer and put his hands on his hips. I reached out to unbuckle his belt and unzip his jeans. Then I hooked my my fingers under his pearly-white boxer trunks and pulled them down with his jeans below his balls.
I wrapped my fingers around his half-hardened cock, put Scotty pushed my hand away and took a hold of his hose with his fist. He yanked it a few times, looking straight down into my eyes, until his pussy-banger grew fully hard. Then he pulled my head closer. I opened my mouth to let Scotty slide his teen gun into my mouth.
It became immediately clear to me that Scotty was not planning a smooth ride. He just wanted to get his rocks off. He grabbed my hair with his both hands and started to rock his hips back and forth, pulling my face closer with every thrust of his cock. The rubber soles of his Chucks squeaked against the floor tiles as he fucked my face. I started to gag from his fierce thrusts, but he didn't care.
"Try to take some more."
I tried not to panic and eased my throat muscles as much as I could. After a couple of thrusts the stubble of his pubes was scratching my nose. I looked up. Scotty's eyes were closed and his lips were pressed tight together. His baseball cap had fallen down on the back of his head so that the brim was pointing down. His tight muscles moved in pace with his fucking thrusts.
I slid my hands under the back of his jeans and took hold of his boxer-clad buttocks to help him reach his goal.
After a few more forceful thrusts he was there.
"Nhhh... Nhhh..." he grunted and shot his load into my mouth. He pulled out a bit too early, and the final spurt of jizz landed on my forehead.
He stood still for a while, panting. Then he turned around and went to the shower room to wash off. I stayed on my knees on the locker room floor, trying to catch my breath.
Scotty strutted back to the locker room, adjusting his package into his boxers. He grinned when he noticed my cum-covered face.
"Sorry for the facial, dude," he chuckled, clearly satisfied with himself.
He zipped his jeans, pulled on his tank top and buckled his belt. Then he took a moment in front of a mirror to fix the wisps of blond hair that were sticking over the strap of his baseball cap.
"Wait ten minutes before you leave," he said and left.
I sat up on the dirty floor and leaned my back on the wall. Scotty's cum was dribbling down my face. His taste was strong in my mouth. This time I managed to open my pants before I shot my load.
My own mother told me that Scotty's cum on my face suits me well. She even tasted it herself. Who am I to question her judgment?
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