Wanting Sam

By Kazz Jerome

Published on Jul 10, 2012

Gay
  • Wanting Sam -- Part 8* -----------------------------------

It wasn't easy sleeping on the Friday evening -- not half an hour after I had ejaculated my dick was upright and ready for more. It took all the willpower in the world and then some to not jerk off again considering the images I had in my head of Sam bending over, Sam wiggling his cute butt, Sam begging me to fill him up, cumming inside Sam... I'm sure you get the idea. Knowing that it was going to happen, knowing that I had the most beautiful boy in the world willing to let me finally take him -- I never expected in all my days that I would have desired or been granted such privilege, pleasure or happiness.

I woke up to a bright Saturday morning and, of course, found my boner had woken up hours before me. I grabbed myself hard, in complete distress, and murmured to myself, "no, no, no, not now! Not now, god dammit!"I squeezed hard enough for it to hurt slightly and tried to think of anything I could that had nothing to do with fucking Sam up the ass. In the end I settled on thinking about my mate Owain, (who was way too masculine for me), in Speedos. That did the trick.

As flaccid as could be, I quickly forced myself out of bed less temptation took over again. Every time a thought of Sam (generally without clothes on) arose, I grit my teeth and slapped the side of my face. Showering wasn't easy -- I had to wash a particular part of my body a lot more carefully today and of course stimulation of said part did not help the boner situation. I left the shower as fast as I could.

I decided to shave whatever hair I had on my face, which comprised of mostly a teenage moustache and attempted sideburns. I sprayed on a little aftershave, which wasn't something I bothered with, and brushed my teeth a lot longer than per usual. I was following the exact motions of a boy going on his first date -- and this is unfortunately what my Father assumed as well. I was originally planning on a quick getaway, but as I reached the bottom of the stairs, I heard that old familiar "alright boy!? Come in here a second!" from the dining room. Oh, great.

I walked into the room to find my Father sitting at the table, looking through a list of horses names in the newspaper -- he was big on watching and betting on the horse racing. He didn't win a lot, but each to our own, I guess; whatever makes us happy.

"You alright, Dad?" I asked as I entered the room.

"Aye, aye, not too bad boy. Just on the horses!" he answered, "feeling lucky today, I tell you!" He scanned the page over his reading glasses and then turned to me suddenly. "Aftershave today, is it? Come on then, who is she? Your mum's not here!"

"Ah, nobody really." I said awkwardly.

"Don't try and fool me, now!" he retorted, shaking a finger at me. "You're a good looker, just like your old man! Bring her over for dinner one evening, now."

I don't know what suddenly brought it on, but I nearly confessed there and then. "Dad, uh... if I was um g-"

My Dad's talkative personality saved my own secret and he interrupted me. "Look now!" he said. "You don't worry about your Mum, she'll be fine. I'll have a talk with her, boy."

"Yeah, yeah, we'll see..." I decided to change the subject - "so, who ya betting on then?"

"Not this fucker!" he said, poking hard at one of the horses names on the page. "Little bastard can't gallop for shit. I was bloody gutted, last week! Gutted! Twenty fucking quid I bet on that twat! Never mind, I'll win us a million yet, boy."

I had never known a man to fit so much profanity into one sentence, but I loved that man to bits. I left the room laughing. Just before I closed the door, I heard my Dad shout, "be back before five for dinner now, boy! Say hello to her for me, alright!?"


Sam had told me to come over for 11:00 via text. The walk over to his house did me good -- fresh air kept my body calm and my lustful mind at bay. Instead, I could logically think things over without lack of concentration. I was worried about a couple of things; first of all, how was I going to initiate first time sex with Sam? I mean, did "going further" even imply anal sex? There wasn't a lot left that we hadn't done! Surely that's what he wanted.

Secondly, lubrication -- I never thought I'd see the day when I might have had to consider this. Up until all of this had happened, I assumed that I was probably straight -- that my attraction to Sam was simply just his feminine looks, a complete fantasy. But no, here I was, ready to penetrate my boyfriend. It was bizarre. But exciting.

I guess the best bet was just to discuss such things with Sam directly. I mean, having somebody put their private parts inside your body and fuck you is quite a big deal, especially in the case where it's in an orifice not intended for fucking. But hey, that's the magic of humanity.

Where the lube was concerned, I had seen and heard of the KY Jelly stuff numerous times, normally used in a joking context by my lovely, but vulgar friend Oscar. There was no way in hell I would even consider walking into a store and buying it over the counter in case somebody from school saw me. Dammit, I should've ordered some online! Well, too late for that. Things would work themselves out as they saw fit.

Ironically, the only thing that didn't come to mind was protection. Using a condom hadn't crossed my mind once. Remember, I was 14 years of age and, though I wasn't stupid, still naïve. I really didn't consider things like STDs or anything along those lines. They were just something that, as a teenager, I had disregarded as another funny part of Sexual Education lessons. This was the first time that Sam or I had indulged in anything even close to a relationship, let alone a gay one, so previous partners were nothing to worry about at our age.

These thoughts took up most of my time as I drew closer to Sam's house. Before I knew it, I was through the garden gate and approaching the front door, my heart racing, my throat dry. I couldn't believe how nervous I was. Before knocking, I paused, inhaled sharply, and finally rapped my knuckles on the door twice. It opened almost immediately and there he was. My Sam.

The rays of sunlight that now shone through the doorway and lit up his face gave definition to the word beautiful. A boy can be just that -- as well as feminine, pretty, angelic, but still in every physical sense be a boy. It is possible, my friends. His blue eyes were open to me, accepting of who I was and what we now were as one. His black hair was combed and tidy, and he had chose simple but effective clothing -- an innocent white t-shirt but tight, suggestive blue jeans which fit perfectly around his slim lower body.

He looked... virginal. *But not for long! Oh fuck, he's mine! *That lustful part of my mind thought. I pushed the thought away and, noticing that I was speechless, managed to come out with the most basic of compliments.

"Hey, uhh... you look lovely." I said.

It must've been a good choice, as much as I felt stupid staying it, because Sam actually blushed, then broke out into the loveliest smile I had ever seen and, like a girl, tilted his head and giggled more than laughed. "Thanks," he replied, obviously taken back. "You look nice too."

I moved towards him, slightly depersonalized, now seriously wondering if this was a dream. What a tragedy that would've been. Yet it was not. I held my boy around the waist, pulled him close and we kissed. The door remained wide open, for there seemed to be no reason to hide. And for a heavenly moment, we cared not for a soul in the world who might have seen us.

Next: Chapter 9


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