All the characters and events in this story are fictitious. Any resemblance to real people, either living or dead, is entirely unintentional.
The story is copyrighted and may not be reproduced in any way without the express permission of the author who can be contacted at: pjalexander1753@gmail.com
A Very Ordinary Boy (Part 2)
From Chapter 8:
You know, something about telling you the whole Tani story has made me feel sooo tired. Would it be okay if we stop now? I could totally do with some sleep. Do you mind? Thanks. What's that? My idea? Oh, yeah, that. I was thinking, if you'd like to, and if you've got nothing else planned, well, I was wondering if you want to stay over on Friday. I'm sure I could square it with my mum and dad and we could order in pizza (don't tell Rosa) and watch a couple of movies. But if you've got something else planned, well, no sweat. Another time, maybe. Yes? You'd like that? Great. See you Friday. Now I need to sleep. See ya!
Chapter 9:
Oh, fuck! What can I say? I am sooo sorry. I thought I was ready, thought that I was over the whole Noah-and-the-camping-trip thing. I wasn't setting you up, wasn't leading you on or deliberately being a cock-tease. Really. Honestly I wasn't. Pleeease, you've got to believe me.
After what happened last Friday night I couldn't have blamed you for never wanting to speak to me again, so I'm over the fucking moon that you're here. And relieved. And surprised, considering that you haven't been answering my texts or replying to my voice mails. Not that I blame you for that. Your battery died? Oh. And here's me getting all drama-queeny and convincing myself that it was all over, you know, you and me, us. Before it had properly got going.
And that, being so new together and no-one else knowing, that was probably a lot of the reason why things turned out the way that they did. Thinking back over what happened -- I've been turning it over and over all weekend - I'm sure it was because everything was happening too quickly, that I wasn't as ready as I thought I was. Hoped I was. I just couldn't keep up. And it was totally my fault. Yes, it was. You didn't do anything I didn't want you to do. At least, what I thought I wanted you to do. Or, maybe, convinced myself that I wanted you to do.
You see, after the other stuff we'd done together - the making-out, the sexting, the touching, the cumming for each other and eating each other's loads -- well, that was all unbelievably, mind-blowingly, shit-eatingly fantastic, and so exciting that I was 100% sure that I was ready to go further, take the next step. Basically do anything you wanted. That's why I was so up for you to stay over on Friday night and why I was totally stoked when mum and dad agreed, without first giving me the Spanish Inquisition routine. Of course, it helped that Granny Smith gave you such an out-of-sight recommendation, said how much you'd been helping me get better, supporting me and being there for me. And as far as I was concerned all those things -- the help and support and stuff - well, they just made me even more convinced that the time was right and that I was ready to go all the way. With you.
And it all started out so brilliantly. There you were, looking amazing. I love the new hair. Cut short at the sides like that totally suits you. And when you took off your hoodie with that sleeveless T underneath, showing off your swimmer's shoulders, oh wow, so hot. And don't get me started on the slim-fit jeans. Just believe that you could totally be on magazine covers. No-one would be able to take their eyes off you. I definitely couldn't. I wanted to tear those sexy clothes off you as soon as we managed to escape from the parents and got up here. But you were so mean, not allowing even a little kiss before we'd got the school stuff out of the way. Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you before, Chalky White came to see me again. I'd like to tell you what he said. Later. Before you go home. That's if you decide you want to stay for a while. I hope you do. But won't blame you if you don't. If you just want to dump today's homework and get out of here.
But last Friday. Oh wow! Making-out with you gets better every time and on Friday it was as if we'd hit a complete other level. I loved the way you ran your tongue around my lips, so slowly, so gently. And then how you teased me with it, slipping it just a little way into my mouth and then pulling it back again until I was desperate for you to put it all the way in. I wanted you to use it to explore every corner, so that, when you eventually did just that, well, it was unfuckingbelievably like fireworks going off in my head. And other parts of my body. Well, one particular part. I still don't know how I didn't cum in my underwear right there and then.
I didn't realise how much time went by while we were lying on the bed, this bed, kissing, touching, exploring, getting excited. When the message came through from my dad to say that the pizza delivery guy was downstairs and that we needed to get down there double quick or he'd eat the lot -- not a joke, by the way -- I couldn't believe it was nearly two hours since you'd arrived. Two hours, and we'd only got as far as getting out of our T's. Which was a good thing, `cause I think there'd have been some pretty uncomfortable questions to answer if we'd been naked and had taken ages getting dressed before going down. For sure that would have raised some suspicions, especially for my mum. And that would definitely have turned into maximum interrogation time.
And feeding each other with the pizza -- sausage with pineapple and capers? Honestly? -- that was unbelievably sexy, especially when you had to' lick off the tomato sauce that had accidentally' dripped onto my ... what did you call it, my, "soon to be six-pack"? In my dreams. And how you tried to convince me that it had gone deep into my tummy button, when really all you wanted to do was to tickle me and make me squirm. Which I did. A lot.
We'd said we'd watch a couple of Scary Movies but that didn't happen. After the pizza (and the licking) and the teeth-brushing it was back to bed and more making-out. The way you let your fingers travel up and down my front, each time getting nearer and nearer the button on my jeans but each time swerving away again, that was sexy and painful at the same time. I was desperate for you to undo the button, pull down the zip and peel those jeans off me, and when you finally decided that the moment had come to do that I totally understood why you'd taken your time, `cause the feelings of relief and anticipation and excitement were beyond incredible.
But I was so disappointed when you stopped. I couldn't believe it. How mean could you get? You'd got me naked (apart from my briefs and my socks), my cock was steel hard and leaking pre like an overflow, I was soo ready, and totally willing for you to do whatever you wanted to me. But no, you stopped, took your hands and your body away and got off the bed. I was afraid you'd changed your mind. That this wasn't what you wanted after all. You'd taken me close to the edge but then ... nothing. So unfair and so cruel. Until you started to move. That amazing, sexy, unforgettable dance you did, starting with just your hips moving from side to side and then circling them round and round, pushing out your bulge and showing off your incredible abs. Then, turning around, first with your hands behind your head, flexing those biceps and rolling your shoulders, then dropping your hands down to unfasten your jeans to begin to shrug them off. Yes, I laughed out loud when you nearly fell over because they were so tight and you couldn't get them off without standing on one leg and almost over-balancing. But once they were off and you were there, in the middle of the floor, this floor, my floor, me, ordinary Jack Smith, and you were standing right there, you, the most beautiful, the sexiest, the most fantastic boy ever, standing with your tight and muscled back to me, long legs apart, naked apart from those pale blue CK boxer briefs, running your hands up and down over the mounds of your butt, first on the outside of your underwear and then inside, stretching the waistband as you worked them down, down over your cheeks, gradually revealing your crack. I'm sure I nearly stopped breathing, stopped believing what I was seeing, convinced that this must be a wonderful, wonderful dream. And if I did zone out, it was the realisation that you had turned back around and were walking slowly and deliberately towards me, your cock trapped horizontally inside the bunched-up fabric of your CK's and pushed out in front like a homing missile, that's what brought me back to reality.
When you stopped, like six inches away from me, hands on your hips, pushing your bulge towards me and then pulling it back again, over and over, it wasn't hard to guess what it was you wanted me to do. And I was totally up for it (you could probably see just how much I was up for it) so my hands were actually shaking as I started to pull your underwear down over the neat bush and then, slowly, slowly over the solid ridge of your cock, letting it spring into freedom and flicking a bead of fresh pre onto my face. I couldn't stop myself from smiling, partly because of the pre but mostly because your cock is so fantastic. The last time I saw it I guessed it was about six inches, but then, last Friday, up close and very personal, I saw that it was longer, more like seven and easily four around, maybe more. And it was quivering, like a dog waiting desperately to be let off the leash. And I could see every pulsing vein. The one-eyed head pointed straight at me, deep red, smooth and shiny with pre which had formed itself into a bead which I had to lick off. I had no choice. It was like being dragged by the most powerful magnet.
I'll never forget the smell and the taste. I don't know what I expected but the reality was way more than I ever could have imagined. Yeah, I've read hundreds and hundreds of on-line stories but no description of giving a first ever blow-job had prepared me for the actual, mind-blowing experience. And the texture - that feeling in my mouth, so hard yet soft and spongy at the same time -- it was, literally, a wank-fantasy come true. I'd no idea if I was doing it right, I'd never done it before except in my imagination, but your moans and whimpers made me think I must have been doing okay, even when you asked me to stop with your cock and start sucking your balls. Why hadn't I thought of that before? It was a whole other sensation as they moved around in my mouth, first one and then the other. The sack was smooth and slippery with my spit and I licked right up behind it and nearly reached your crack with my tongue. I was wondering if I dare go any further but that was the moment when you pulled me to my feet and gently pushed me back onto the bed, saying I'd got you this close to cumming but that you didn't want that to happen. Not yet.
The next thing I knew you were dragging off my briefs and covering my chest and tummy with kisses and when I reached down between your legs you were still rock hard and dripping pre, excited for whatever was gonna come next. Then the feeling of my cock disappearing into your mouth took things to a whole other level and, like before, I couldn't believe that I hadn't instantly gone off like a rocket. But I hadn't, and I just about had time to be pleased about that, thinking that I wanted to hold off cumming until the main event (yes, even then I'd made up my mind that this was gonna be the night when I'd welcome you up inside me and I knew that then would be the perfect time to release a mind-blowing, ball-blowing load). Looking up I saw you smiling down at me before you brought your lips down to meet mine. I wondered if I really wanted to be kissed by lips that, seconds before, had been wrapped around my cock, I mean, that's pretty gross, right? But that thought lasted for about half a nanosecond before the stars came out and I knew, totally and 100% knew, that this was it. This was the moment, and it was then that I broke the kiss (I didn't want to but I knew that I had to) and turned myself around so I was lying full length, face down, pushing my butt up, waiting for you.
The feeling of your breath blowing across my hole and then your cock being dragged up and down my crack had me squirming with excitement and anticipation. Believe me, I was never more ready for anything in my life. I knew this was what I wanted, knew that this was a dream come true, knew that this moment, finally and forever, would banish the memory of that night with Noah. But then ... Oh, fuck! Noah. Noah. Why did I have to think about Noah? This is how it was with me and him, exactly the same, me lying face down, convinced this was gonna be the best night of my life, the night when my beautiful boy-crush would make love to me and, for once and all, bring me out of the dark and lonely closet that I'd been in for so long. But he didn't make love to me, he pushed me down so I could hardly breathe and he rammed his cock into my totally unready hole and fucked me so hard I was burning inside. Fucked me until I passed out. Raped me.
So last Friday night I freaked. Totally freaked. You must have thought I'd gone mad. And I think, in that moment, I had. The way I suddenly rolled over and kicked out at you over and over, with no control, and screamed and yelled at you to stop touching me and to leave me the fuck alone and to go away. Looking back, it's such a good thing that, up here, I'm a long way from the rest of the house. It's too scary to think what would have happened if my mum and dad had heard what was going on.
And I had gone mad, because I was terrified the same thing was gonna happen again, the same as what happened with Noah. And I knew I couldn't deal with all that shit a second time, not with you, not with the boy I was starting to think I might actually be in love with. Yeah, scary or what?
So that's why I got off the bed and screwed myself up into the corner there between my desk and the wall `cause I needed to feel safe. Safe? Safe from what? From who? From the kindest, most patient, most caring boy on the planet? What was I thinking? Well, the answer to that is that I wasn't thinking, at least, not straight. Yes, ha ha, very funny -- not! It's not a joke. Not now and definitely not then.
But you were amazing. I mean, how was it that you didn't just get all your stuff together and get the fuck out of here? Why didn't you run a mile from the pathetic, naked, sobbing mess curled up in the corner? I don't know why you didn't but I'm so glad you stayed. I can't tell you how many hours this weekend I spent trying to figure things out and I can totally tell you that it was you who saved me from another trip to the psych ward. The way that, you know, at first, you came over and sat with me on the floor there, not touching, not talking, just being there. And then moving nearer, squeezing in beside me and putting your arm round my shoulders, stroking my hair and telling me everything would be okay. I don't know how long we sat there nor do I remember how you got me back to bed, but I do remember us lying together, you up against my back and holding me tight -- is that what they call `spooning'? -- feeling all the tightness and tension gradually draining out of my body, like someone had pulled the plug, so that, eventually, I managed to fall asleep. That's what saved me from another trip to the hospital. You did that.
When I woke up on Saturday morning and you were gone, well, at first I couldn't understand it. But then I started getting flashes of what had happened, like tiny instant photos in my head of what I'd done, and I freaked out -- again. Not like on Friday night, no, not a full-on nut-job, but crying some more and convinced that you'd never come back here again, never want to see me again. And when you didn't reply to any of my messages, well, that was all the proof I needed that you, the one good thing in my life, had gone. And what had you told my mum and dad about why you were leaving so early? I didn't have the balls to go down to find out, in case the news was as bad as I imagined.
When I eventually did manage to get my shit together and go downstairs, my dad said you'd had some sort of last-minute family thing come up and had to leave but that I was still asleep and not to wake me. I was so relieved when I heard that. At least you hadn't told them anything about what had gone down. It was like I could breathe again. And of course you wouldn't tell, would you? `Cause that's not who you are. I know that. Really, I do. But I was so scared that you might have, I dunno, accidentally said something to set the parental alarm bells ringing. I suppose I couldn't stop imagining every worst-case scenario.
Later on I worked out that you must have needed some space, some time to get your head around what had happened. I mean, how were you to know what was going on in this screwed-up head of mine? You must have been really confused. I mean, one minute I'm making it sooo obvious that I'm totally into you, even offering you my butt to be fucked, and then next minute, when it looks as if you're gonna do that very thing, I turn into a crazed madman, kicking and yelling and screaming at you to get out. Who wouldn't need time and space to try to make some sense of all that?
But you're here now and you've listened to me for, like, forever and you've taken off your Nikes -- I've only just noticed -- so I'm hoping that means that I haven't totally blown it with you (even though I have blown you -- yes, that one is a joke. What do you mean, not a very good one?). Is that a nod and a smile? And you do understand about Friday night and it's fine with you if we chill and slow things down. But now you've gotta go. But you'll be back tomorrow. And I can tell you, then, about Chalkey White coming round. And, yes, I can have a kiss before you go.
As an author, it's REALLY encouraging to know that there are people out there who are taking the time to read what I've written, and then bothering to send a response. So please, do feel free to write to me at the email address given at the top of the chapter. I welcome all comments and guarantee to write back. PJ
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