Bobby Big and Tight - Ch. 2
Preface: This is the continuation of a true story. It involves a friend and me and happened two years ago when we were seniors in high school. Both of us were eighteen at the time. If descriptions of teen sexuality bothers you or offends you, please read no further.
I.
It had been three days since our return from Maine and Bobby and I had yet to speak. I wouldn't say that we were ignoring each other, as we were both busy with track and school, but it was clear that neither of us were actively pursuing a conversation either.
Just last Friday, a playful wrestle between us had turned into a hardcore gay sex act that caught us both by surprise and embarrassment. I felt that the best way to deal with it was to ignore it.
On Thursday, however, I got a note from Bobby in my locker - "I'm gonna drink some beer tonight and give you a call at nine o'clock," the note read.
I was excited and scared at the same time. Part of me hoped he would say that our "episode" together was all a mistake and could we just forget it. Another part of me really hoped that he'd say he wanted it to happen again and would I come over.
"Maybe I am a queer," I wondered.
II.
I told my mom I was going to study up in my bedroom and then go to bed. I had two shots of Jim Beam from a bottle I kept hidden beneath some old baseball cards. It tasted awful and I thought I'd puke, but I didn't want to be too sober if he was going to be drunk when he called. It wasn't long before I started feeling well-buzzed and soon the phone rang.
It was ten minutes before nine.
"I got it mom," I yelled.
"Hey, if it isn't my partner in crime," Bobby said from the other end of the line.
"Hey, how are you? Your ten minutes early," I teased.
"Well, I wanted to get this over with before I fell asleep or passed out," Bobby laughed. "I've been drinking beer since six o'clock."
"So, what's up?" I asked a bit nervously.
"Well, right to it then," Bobby answered. I could tell he was nervous, despite his obviously impaired speech. "Listen, my friend, I'm no fag and I don't think you are either. I like tits and pussy, and want as much of it as I can get, but, and this important, I like getting-off and getting-off a lot. And I always thought that if I had a friend that liked getting his rocks off a lot also that it would be kind of perfect, you know what I mean? A little pussy here and there for real, but with a guy friend who was willing to help out, there would be no dry spells, understand?"
"Yeah, I guess. Kind of like a friend who was a 'whore bag'," I said.
"Yeah, kind of like that." Bobby said, "But a whore that was still a friend, because that's the important part, you know? A friend that was willing to try new things and not get caught up in all that emotional relationship shit that girls get caught up in. If I want to call you and be bold and crazy about physical stuff, I think its okay if you as a friend is there with me."
I thought it was funny that just a couple of days ago I had swallowed this guy's jizz and that he let me fuck him in the ass, and now all this prude could bring himself to say was "physical stuff".
I asked him, "But what if someone at school finds out, they'd think we were homos?"
Bobby shot back, "Don't worry about it, no one will find out and nobody would believe it even if they saw it with their own eyes. I barely believe it myself and I was there. No body will find out, I promise."
"So what's next?" I asked him.
"Nothing, let's just see what happens. I wanted to let you know that I'm not a gay but that I had fun the other night, okay? Does that freak you out?" Bobby asked.
"No, no it doesn't freak me out, I'm guess I'm still kind of in shock about the whole thing, but its okay with me if it is okay with you." I said truthfully.
"Good, I'm glad we talked about this 'cause I don't want things to get weird between us." Bobby said. "I'll talk to you tomorrow", and Bobby hung up the phone.
I sat at the edge of my bed, replaying the conversation again and again in my mind and wondered what I had actually agreed to.
III.
I saw Bobby the next day right after lunch. He was with Maureen, a girl that he had dated off and on and who I once French kissed while they were going out. Bobby didn't know about our kiss but Maureen and I had grown closer on account of this little indiscretion.
"Bobby, what's up for the weekend?" I asked. I could feel the secret between us weighing heavily upon each word I spoke.
"Not too, much. Maureen and I going to the movies tomorrow, and will probably just get a pizza tonight. Want to join us?" Bobby suggested with a smile.
"No, that's alright. I think Scott and I might hang and play Nintendo," I lied.
Bobby said, "That sounds cool, have fun". And he was off down the hall with Maureen.
But he turned back quickly and said, "Hey, why don't you come over and watch the Yankees on Sunday, my folks are at the Shore again".
"Sounds good, I'll be there when the game starts." I answered as he turned the corner in the hall.
Did I notice that he was a bit nervous talking to me? Probably not, but if he was is that a good sign or a bad sign and what difference did it make?
I didn't know what to make of it all, but I was kind of excited about Sunday and that concerned me greatly.
IV.
We had been watching the Yanks game for a couple of innings when Bobby went to the kitchen for more beer. While he was gone, I thought of his folks who spent a lot of time at the shore and how Bobby seemed to spend way too much time alone than was proper for a guy his age. My parents, for instance, would never, ever, leave me alone for so long as a single night for fear I'd accidentally set fire to myself or the house.
Not only did Bobby's parents spend weekends away, but they would do things like leave on Thursday evenings and return Tuesday morning for work. It didn't seem to bother Bobby much, but it bothered me that he didn't have the same kind of parents I had. Maybe this all had something to do with Bobby's continuous need for positive feedback of the physical kind.
Bobby returned with the beer and said, "So...this game is boring, let's go upstairs for a while."
I had expected him to say something to get things going at some point, but really didn't know how he was going to do it. I had decided before arriving that I wasn't going to say anything about it unless he did. Should I really go upstairs with him, I thought?
I simply responded, "OK."
We took our beers in hand and began walking upstairs in silence.
How did I get myself into this, I thought. When did I get so passive about my own sex life? Was it simply because I was tired of the games that had to be played when dealing with girls? As I guy, I always felt the pressure was on me to get sex going. With Bobby, it felt different. He was in charge and it didn't bother me a bit. Or maybe it made me feel less like a fag since I wasn't really initiating anything.
I could have thought about this stuff all day long, but now we were entering his room and the time for deep thoughts had passed.
Bobby turned to me when he reached the middle of the room and said, "Maureen didn't feel like making out last night so I kind of struck out. Now might be a good time to see if our idea works."
I knew exactly what he meant. He was horny and he wanted me to help get him off.
"Well, if you think you need to, then fine," I responded, again, trying to make Bobby the decision maker, and I merely a tag-along.
Bobby moved to the side of the bed saying, "Let's sit here."
I crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed and he sat next to me. We both wore very baggy shorts and our bare thighs touched. Bobby reached over and started to rub the front of shorts with the palm of his hand. I sat there, again frozen, like the first time he had touched me just a week before. I was instantly hard and Bobby was soon stroking me through my shorts.
He slid off the bed and took to a kneeling position on the floor in front of me. He moved to unsnap my shorts and unzipped the fly. He grabbed the waist band of my shorts and boxers and yanked them down together. I raised my butt to allow them to fall off and on to the floor.
I felt very naked now as Bobby was still clothed and I, sitting on his bed, without a stitch. He gently took my balls in his hand and bent to lick them as though he were holding water he'd scooped from a stream. He licked and rolled my nuts around in his hands. My cock was so hard it was almost painful.
He began to use his tongue up and down the front of my shaft until is glistened with a mixture of his saliva and my precum. Instinctually, I lay backward on to the bed and Bobby guided my legs onto his wide, strapping shoulders.
From this position Bobby went back to working on my balls and, surprisingly, he began to use his tongue on that small space that stretched between my ball sack and my anus. He not only licked it this stretch of skin, but pressed his tongue hard onto the flesh there, pressing against a pleasure point I had never known existed.
He breathed on my hole, but didn't lick it, saving all his contact for the area closer to my balls. I wanted nothing more to reach out and grab the back of his head and force his tongue into my asshole, but I controlled myself for fear that he may reject the overture.
Bobby took my legs down of his shoulders and he joined me on the bed. He curled himself up beside me and took my cock in his mouth. I tried to move him into a "69" position so I could reciprocate these pleasures, but he refused, saying softly, "Relax".
It wasn't more than a minute until I felt an orgasm welling up in side me. I grabbed onto his hair tightly and lifted my hips. Just as I was to come, Bobby forced his finger deep into my butt and I screamed out, "Oh my God", as I shot my load.
My head was swirling and could barely breathe as I shook my head back and forth on the pillow. I could hear Bobby swallowing and I could feel the suction of his swallows on the top of dick even as he continued to finger fuck me faster and faster.
The cum that Bobby didn't swallow was spit out onto my balls and spread down into the crack of my ass. He rubbed the sperm slowly between my cheeks for a good long time. I spread my legs a bit to give him deeper access and he took advantage of the space to push the cum deeper into my rear.
As I lie enjoying the anal massage, Bobby leaned forward and said softly in my ear, "Jon, I want to fuck you."
My legs closed a bit as an unconscious reflex.
It was moment that I feared might come and I had already decided what my answer would be.
"Bobby," I said, "I don't think so, you're way too big for me. It wouldn't work."
He was a bit taken aback, and was visibly upset and his expression changed to one of annoyance.
It suddenly dawned on me, clear as day, that this wonderful blowjob, sack-licking, and anal rub was just a setup for him to fuck me. I felt like a girl on prom night, primed with beer and kisses and roses all for the purpose of a fuckfest in the back seat.
Now, I was annoyed.
I wanted to tell him that getting off was one thing, but doing something dangerous like shoving an eight plus inch cock up my ass was all together different. I tried to hide my annoyance.
"Bobby, I think it would be fine if yours wasn't so big. It's not about you or us. I'm afraid of what would happen and we don't even know what were doing,"
I was just saying words to fill up the silence.
Bobby stretched out on the bed and sighed.
I leaned over and undid his fly, reached in and pulled out his massive hog. It was bigger than I had remembered from the previous week, probably because it has literally and figuratively "come between us". It was now an enemy.
I took the cock in my mouth and sucked and stroked. Even though it was just the second time I'd been with a guy, the bad mood between Bobby and me made the blowjob as routine as my own private beat-off sessions.
After a minute or too, I could feel Bobby's breathing quicken and I knew he was cumming.
I misjudged a bit and began swallowing to late. I gagged and had to take the spewing dick out of my mouth.
It was a mess.
His thick prick continued to lob chunks of load onto my lips and eyes, but mostly it dripped and splattered on his t-shirt and shorts.
I tried to make up for it by sucking and licking what jizz was left on his cock.
But Bobby just raised his head and said sarcastically, "Great, now I have to change, asshole."
I got dressed and went home, dreading the coming school week.
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