Disclaimer:
I'll do my best to set down what I can still remember in words as accurately as I can, but I should go on record, here at the very beginning, saying that I don't believe that there is such a thing as nonfiction. Both the acts of remembering, as well as, creative writing are intrusive, altering what happened, sometimes subtly and sometimes entirely, most often in purely unintentional ways. I leave it to you to separate the true from the real. Some of the experiences are based on events that actually happened (to me) and some of them are re-imagined. Do not attempt to reenact or recreate any event described in the text of this or other chapters. Please remember that ordinary human decency as well as maturity requires good judgment and the ability to distinguish illegal acts described in literary fiction from the reality of responsible human behavior.
All rights reserved. Other than downloading one copy for personal enjoyment, no part of this story may be reproduced or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author. The story has been written for entertainment purposes for adults only. You must be a minimum of 18 years of age (or 21 years of age in some jurisdictions) to read this story. If you are not of legal age or if you consider this type of writing to be morally offensive, then do not read the following story. It is your own responsibility to adhere to these terms.
Comments on the story are appreciated and may be addressed to the author at: dreamcat_dave@yahoo.com
CHAPTER 1: POP GOES THE WEASEL!
I met Billy Jakes when I was a freshman. His father was the janitor at our school and when I ended up sharing a desk with him in chemistry, and looked over into Billy's blue-green eyes I knew from the uncomfortable tent forming in my shorts that what I wanted right then and there, was Billy.
I already knew that I was gay, though I don't think I had ever said those words out loud, but I knew that I had always been attracted to other boys. Santa Rosa, Texas was a small farm town. While gay rights may have been making strides in other parts of the country, it was still just downright dangerous to be a "ho-mo-sex-u-al" in a small redneck town like Santa Rosa.
I hadn't previously paid much attention to Billy, even though we had a few classes together. He was a bit older, friendly, but mostly kept to himself, and he was certainly not the smartest kid in school. I heard that he had repeated a grade pretty far down in elementary school before his family moved to Santa Rosa. Even so he was still a year ahead of me, and I guess a couple of years older.
Billy was good looking in a trailer-trash boy-next-door kind of way. Anyways his bad-boy way of pouting when he couldn't work through a problem in class and his brooding eyes caught my attention. He had dirty blond hair that he always wore long on the top and shaved short around the back and sides, light freckled cheeks, and the most amazing blue-green eyes that change colors every time I looked at him. He had a penchant for wearing sleeveless shirts to show off his arms. Despite his fair skin and freckles he always seemed to manage a light tan to accent the color of his hair.
Despite our age difference I was an inch or so taller than Billy. He was a bit more muscular, while I had more of a swimmer's build. I would guess that he was almost twenty pounds heavier and it was all muscle. At the time, I was about 5'11" tall and maybe 125-130 pounds.
I tried hard at school to be friendly but he wasn't the most talkative guy. I spent the whole term cultivating his friendship, and pretty much every day in chemistry class sporting the little boner that wouldn't die. Billy noticed my pup tent once, and blushing with embarrassment I leaned forward trying to cover it up, but Billy just smiled and leaned back, totally unashamed, to show me that he had pitched a tent of his own, though Billy's brazen bulge was quite a bit bigger and the sight of it almost drove me insane.
We didn't have many sports in common, Billy played basketball and ran track while I was on the swim team. Because of Billy I would try out for the track team later that year. He would join the swim team, but that was later. Despite all that, over the next few weeks, Billy and I became pretty good friends.
Cycling was common interest. Billy wasn't into competitive cycling, but it was his regular form of transportation to work. He also had an old Camaro that his father had given him that was up on cinderblocks beside the driveway at his house, which he shared with his father and brother, but that car spent more time in the yard getting repaired than it did on the road. Billy was always working on that car, or saving up for the next part he had to replace.
I had just spent almost all of my life-savings on a fifteen-speed, super-lightweight aluminum frame racing bike. I had already experienced a few nasty encounters with some kids on the bus and riding to school was much less stressful.
That fall Billy and I would ride Highway 107 out west of town to an old industrial park and race each other around in circles whenever we had the opportunity. Billy was very competitive and would "bet a buck I can beat you" turning just about anything into a bet. One Saturday we rode our bikes down the ravine and along the bike trails, packing a lunch in our knapsacks.
Billy's older brother Jimmy, a skateboard punk anarchist, who also worked in maintenance at the high school, and sported a fine bulge of his own, readily apparent even wearing his janitor's uniform. He had the same blue-green eyes as his brother and had dirty blonde hair that was shaved at the sides and pulled back in a trailer trash ponytail. He had too many tattoos and none of them matched.
Ever since the day Billy showed me his bulge in class, I had been working at trying to see Billy's big shank unleashed and he had been most uncooperative. Billy seemed to be completely oblivious to the fact that I was in love with him and lusting after his body every moment I spent with him.
He could be such a tease. He wore a lot of sleeveless shirts, showing off his arms and armpits, and I'm convinced it's that fact alone that created in me the armpit fetish that I have even to this day. What made it worse was that I am convinced that he was completely ignorant of the effect he was having on me. Billy would change in front of me, standing there in his boxers while searching for some shirt amid the pile of discarded shirts on the floor around his bed. He was never bashful about being seen in his boxers, or his cycling shorts, but I could never manage to see any more than that of his obvious bulge and the distinct dark blond treasure trail that led down toward it!
A few weeks into the fall semester we went to see Freddy's Dead: The Final Nightmare one Saturday afternoon. It was one of those rare occasions that his Camaro was road worthy, though the air conditioning was still on the fritz and it was a hot September afternoon so we were all sweated up by the time we actually made it into the theatre.
As we walked in it was really dark. The theater was huge, from before the days of multiplexes. There were some previews showing by the time we got in. I started down the aisle straight ahead toward the front where I usually sit, but Billy caught my arm and redirected me to turn around. I preferred to sit closer to the screen, but I wasn't going to argue with Billy. It was the first time we had ever done something together other than chemistry projects or riding our bikes.
The cool air felt good. We let our eyes adjust to the dark, then put on our 3-D glasses (it was released in 3-D) and sat down in the center of the back row of an almost empty theatre to split a large soda pop and a tub of insufficiently buttered popcorn. So I sat down and put my drink in the cup holder on my right. Billy was on my left.
As my eyes adjusted, I could see further into the theater. I thought that we were going to be the only ones at that afternoon showing, but then two guys came walking in just about the time the movie started. They sat down about five or six rows closer to the screen, in the middle of the center section of seats directly in front of us.
It was an awesomely terrible flick, but Billy though Lisa Zane was hot. I thought Breckin Meyer was sexy enough is a nerdy sort of way, but figured it was better not to say so.
The movie had been playing for about a half an hour when I saw one of the guys sitting ahead of us look around the room. Then the head of the guy sitting next to him disappeared. I grabbed Billy's arm and pointed, but he had already noticed. "Let's go," he whispered eagerly, and so we got up, and moved a little closer, just a couple of rows behind and to the left of them. I could see the head of the guy who was doing the sucking bobbing up and down in the dim light. He looked like he was in his own world; sliding his mouth up and down the other guy's shank. They both looked like they were in their early twenties, maybe the guy doing the sucking was still in his teens, and I'm pretty sure he was Hispanic. The one getting blown had his head back and eyes closed, seemingly enjoying the attention his friend was giving to his rigid shaft.
I sat and watched, fascinated by the raw sexuality of it. I had never seen a blowjob happening in real life, only in pictures and video clips on the internet. I looked over at Billy, but he was so caught up in what was happening he didn't seem to notice me.
After only a few minutes, the guy getting his cock sucked grabbed the head of the Hispanic guy, and started bucking his hips up off the seat, ready to cum. The Hispanic guy started bobbing his head faster and faster, and I could hear the wet sucking sounds he was making even over the soundtrack, until the other guy grabbed his head and shoved it down hard as he started to cum. The guy getting his cock sucked gasped, and the Hispanic guy made a sound that was somewhere between the sound of getting someone getting choked and a swallowed moan. When his friend released his head, he pulled off his cock just in time to receive one forceful splatter of spooge across his face. A second blast missed and hit a seat in front of them. Without thinking, Billy let out an excited gasp and started laughing, and the two guys all of a sudden turned around to see us watching them with a "just got caught" look of surprise on their faces. I guess they hadn't noticed us as they walked past. They must have thought they were alone in the theater. They got up abruptly and quickly scurried away. The Hispanic guy was still wiping cum off his cheek as they left the theater.
Billy grabbed my arm again and we ended up snaking our way around the end of the row as he led me to the seats where the two guys had been sitting. We bent down to examine the seat where the guy had unloaded his spooge. It was too dark to see it, but the area smelled of male sweat, musk, and cum. On our way back to our original seats at the back of the theatre I could see Billy sporting that same bulge revealing that he was sporting wood.
When we sat back down, I turned to sneak another peak at Billy's crotch to see if he still had a remarkably stout pup tent going, and he shifted his legs apart. I looked up to see him looking at me, smiling broadly. He abruptly caught my left hand with his and hastily brought it down between his legs grinding the palm of my left hand firmly against his stiff rod. It must have been as rigid as steel and at least a foot long. Well, that's what it felt like to me anyways. The only thing between my hand and his big dick were a couple of layers of clothing. His dick pulsed in my hand and without warning my body suddenly convulsed and I popped load after load of teen spirit into my shorts. I had come lots of times from jerking myself off, but had never experienced an eruption like that one. It seemed to go on and on forever, and it was so intense--like a shotgun blast-that I had to look down to see if I had blown a hole out of the crotch of my shorts.
Billy laughed loudly, pointing at me, "Dude you should see your face!" as another seizure took me, forcing another grimace, as a final few surges found their way into my shorts. I pulled my hand off his crotch bulge and sat back in my seat, not sure what to say. I could smell the odor of my own semen soaking into my shorts, and my dick felt like a little wet weasel, nestled between a sodden tangle of pubes and boxers gone uncomfortably sticky and damp. Billy continued to chortle in amusement at what had just happened. I leaned back and tried to ignore him.
Billy sat back in his seat too, and turned his attention back to the movie, though every now and then he would suddenly snort, exploding into laughter at the most inappropriate times. I tried concentrating on the movie, knowing that if I looked over at Billy my eyes would move instinctively down again to stare at Billy crotch, and that Billy would most likely notice. At one point Billy leaned back into his seat and stretched. With his arms folded behind his head his armpits were exposed and I could see the brown tufts of silky hair in Billy's arm pits, it was dark and thick against his pale skin. Within seconds I was sporting wood again.
As the movie continued I continued to notice Billy's hand return again and again to adjust the bulge between his legs that never did seem to subside. I tried to estimate just how big his dick must be. Comparing bulges, I knew that his was substantially larger than my own, a fact he must have also noticed, but then my own dick tended to point straight up, positioned tight against my body, not sticking out at some lewd angle like pictures I had seen on porn sites.
If you asked me that afternoon about what happened in the movie I wouldn't have been able to tell you. I was obsessed with Billy's bulge. My gaze was covertly on his crotch more than on the screen. I counted the seconds between each time he reached down to adjust himself. I had never wanted anything so bad in my life. So I continued sneaking peeks at him out of the corner of my eye, watching him, wanting him. But I wanted his friendship too much to risk ruining everything, and I kept my eyes, and my hands, to myself. But the intensity of sitting so close to him, knowing he was hard, and from the way he kept touching himself, probably horny as well, was driving me insane.
Suddenly I felt his hand on my leg, and it happened again. Without warning, my body convulsed again as I unloaded another series of blasts into my shorts.
Billy laughed raucously, pointing at me, "Dude, you keep that up and your going to make a hell of a mess in your pants." He nudged me that it was time to get up and leave, and I looked up to see the movie was over and the credits were rolling.
"You know your gonna get some serious teasing about popping your cork so quick!" Billy smirked and made his way toward the aisle. I sat there looking down at my pants. My crotch was visibly soaked to one side of my zipper, and I still had to make my way out of the theater. Of course, that's about the time the lights came on.
Back in the Camaro, windows rolled down, Billy boasted that he had found a collection of Penthouse magazines his brother had stashed in some secret place. I implored him to let me take a look at them and with a devilish grin he finally consented.
We drove over to Billy's house, but his father was there, and a few of his friends were over visiting and watching a ball game. We hung out in the back yard until they finally left, and then Billy and I were in his bedroom in a flash. Billy asked me to wait a minute while he took a piss and got his brother's stash of porn. He pulled off his t-shirt as he walked toward the restroom and dropped it unceremoniously on the floor. The bathroom in Billy's room connected to his older brother's bedroom. He didn't bother to shut the door. A lot of guys are like that. I couldn't help but listen to the sound of Billy pissing into the toilet. Then everything went quite. I waited for a flush that never came, and in a few minutes Billy re-emerged from the bathroom holding a stack of Jimmy's magazines. Within seconds we were pouring through his brother's collection of about six dog-eared old Penthouse magazines.
Billy knew every picture, he had read every article and had even just about memorized every letter every letter in the Forum. It was fantastic watching him bounce around with excitement while showing me the "best" pictures and almost ordering me to read certain juicy letters or stories. After about five minutes I had four of the magazines open on my lap and Billy was still looking for another "awesome" picture to show me.
I confess that I wasn't nearly so interested in the pictures as I was interested in Billy showing them to me! But my eyes kept wandering off the pictures and onto his shirtless torso, following his treasure trail down to the point his shorts pulled away slightly, and then down to that massive tent pole he had straining against his shorts, pitched just to the left of his zipper.
I was sure I knew what was going to happen next. I had heard that jerking off with your buddies was common, especially in junior high. Though jerking off with a buddy wasn't something I'd had the good fortune of experiencing. Once you got to high school you were supposed to stop doing it with your buddies and start doing it with girls. Well I hadn't even started doing it with my buddies!
I was fairly convinced that Billy was straight from the way he practically drooled over his favorite pictures. After a half hour of us squirming around trying to find a comfortable position, all the while enduring erections straining painfully against the inside of our shorts, Billy came right out and asked if I was into "polishing my knob".
I knew exactly what he was talking about but I had never heard that expression used before. There must be a thousand different ways to describe "jerking off". My voice cracked when I tried, oh so casually, to say, "Sure, why not?"
Suddenly Billy's face grew serious. "Wait," he said, and I was sure he had changed his mind. "Did you just shoot another load?" he asked, making fun of the way my voice had cracked. He fell over on the bed laughing at my expense. I punched his arm a couple of times and he shoved me down hard onto the bed and crawled up on top of me. Wrestling with Billy was as close to fucking as I figured I would ever get. He pinned my arms above my shoulders, and as he bore down his musky masculine scent almost overwhelmed me. I struggled against him and he brought his knee up between my legs, not intending to wrack my balls, but just to keep me pinned, as be brought his weight down on me.
And then it happened again. Again! With his knee still pushed up hard against my balls, and his weight on top of me pinning me to his bed, and a look of complete bewilderment on his face as it dawned on him that I was pumping out a third unexpected load of teen spirit. I know Billy felt my body shudder and tense, then I suddenly convulsed and churned out another wet load into my shorts. As he pulled away in surprise, my whole body shook violently as another orgasm took me, forcing another grimace.
But this time I started to cry. It was just too embarrassing. It seemed like every time he touched me I came.
That was, of course, the moment we heard the front door open and Billy's brother Jimmy come home.
Billy snatched the magazines up off the bed and dashed into his brother's room while I heard Jimmy opening a beer in the kitchen. I chose that moment to make my escape, and headed out the front door and down the street, not even thinking about the long walk home I would have.
I looked back once to see Billy standing out in his front yard looking at me as I walked toward the end of his street, and then started to run.
I knew in my heart that I had exposed myself to Billy. My body had betrayed me. My erection had betrayed me. Jesus! All he had to do was touch me and I came. I had always been quick to shoot, but nothing like this had ever happened to me before! I hadn't ever come like that, not even touching myself, and so unexpectedly, in someone's presence!
I wanted Billy more than anything, but I knew that if Billy thought I was gay (and how could he not know that now) that Billy would do something, something . . . maybe even beat me up, or tell the other guys at school that I am queer, or maybe just stop hanging out with me.
I walked home trying to find something to think about, whatever, anything at all that would take my mind off just how deeply I had fallen for Billy.
It was a long way home.