His name was Sean, and he was he gorgeous. Kinda long blond hair on the top, short on the sides, blue eyes, not very tan (but what computer nerd is?), and he was wearing a dirty white shirt. He smiled at me. It wasn't a longing smile or a sly smile; it was just an act barely registering in his mind. That's all it took, and I was obsessed.
It happened at school, where a few memorable things do occur. That's the year I got suspended. Have a couple of friends use LoFat crack, and get a few passwords, spread them around school, and you see what happens. As a punishment, I wasn't allowed to take any computer classes or touch any computers.
Rather than have a hole in my schedule, I still went to the class, but didn't touch anything. I was working on making a triple boot operating system and was only half way done, so the teacher called another student in to have me walk him through the rest. He had kinda long blond hair on top and blue eyes. The teacher figured since the job needed to be done and I couldn't touch it, that another skilled computer guy could learn it first hand, with me telling them how to do it. It was a sensible plan, and I though it would be easy, until I saw him.
Sean did have a knack for computers, the same way I did, though I was on my third computer job as he was on his first. For my own vanity, I will tell you I have been a grunt (a go-do-that guy) for a dot com, a network administrator for a small business, and of course I've had the basic technician job. He was doing his technician job.
Ironically, from that day forth, I didn't miss a single day of the class I was no longer in. After a few days of working with him, I had found out he was as smart as he was cute, but that he may not have been interested in me. Needless to say I was depressed, but not without hope. I had gotten him to admit never having a girlfriend, and this was his Jr. Year in high school.
It took over two weeks to build up the courage to ask him over to my house. I would have rather gone over to his house, because there was no way my parents were to know about me, and they were to have no suspicions. And bringing the boy of my dreams home with me probably wasn't the brightest idea I've even had, but one that I could deal with.
Sorry, but nothing much happened the first time he came over, but he was in my house, in my room, and on my bed. AND ON MY BED. Oh, that almost drove me mad right there, the way he laid on my bed staring at me looking bored. I love my family, but DAM them for being in the house at that moment. On a side note, my depression was gone, and my hope was manifesting itself into something else.
He started coming over a lot after that, sometimes staying as late as midnight. Then came the day he asked me over to his house. He was an only child, and his parents were away for a wedding. He had a nice house. It was clean, pretty big, and had a welcoming feeling to it. There was a lot of brown. His room was oddly clean as if he had cleaned it for the occasion, and as soon as he was out feeding his dogs, I was on his computer looking for his collection of porn. I didn't find anything at first, but with a simple unerase utility, I found all sorts of things. Thanks to Kazaa's limited assortment of porn, I recognized some of the titles. I left the window open, and laid down on his bed awaiting his return. I had a grin on my face.
When he returned, he looked at me and asked, "What are you so proud of?"
I motioned toward the computer, and as soon as he recognized the names of some of his favorites, he got big eyed. His question actually surprised me. It wasn't, "Are you going to tell anyone?", or "Oh my god, now you know."
It was, "How'd you do that?"
I laughed and got up to show him. I went through the process again, and recovered one of them and told it to play.
Sean said, "But I've already seen this one."
I shot him a sly smile and said, "so have I"
We stared at each other for the longest time, and then we kissed. There were no tongues, no animal passion, or even grace. But a kiss is more than just performance; it's who it's with. The second kiss was with tongues, and the third one was on the floor. I was on top.
He pulled off my shirt, as he pinned his between his back and the carpet.
"don't make me force that off of you," I threatened.
He just playfully smiled at me and said, "If that's the way it has to be..."
With that, I lifted him off the floor, and set him on his bed, for the dual purpose of easier access to his shirt, and for what was to come. I couldn't believe how soft his skin was. Everywhere I caressed, kissed, or licked, was soft, and he was just as curious. It took at least five minutes between taking off the shirts, and taking off the pants. But we both could feel the other was ready through our own readiness.
He was a little longer than I was, but I was thicker. After a while of exploring the newly released sections of our bodies, we realized we still had socks on. That was the last minor detail before we showed some skill. He went for me first, and before I realized what he was doing, he had me in his warm, wet, and moving mouth. His tongue massaged the bottom of my dick as he went in and out, and to the sides.
I looked down to see my dream boy attacking my body with his head and hands. I closed my eyes and I saw a retelling of my dreams and the real boy in front of me, and the two were happening at the same time. He developed rhythm, as I developed an expression of agony, and bliss on my face. He swallowed every bit.
We traded places and I started on him the same way we went on me. I figured that if that is what he gave me, then that that is what he wanted himself. I didn't get a good taste, as it squirted into the back of my throat, and almost made me gag, but seeing as he hit the back of my throat, he had to have been happy. I hold it in my mouth till he was done, and then slowly let it out as he gasped at the extra stimulation.
We laid down into bed together and fell asleep. My Parents were mad at me for getting home late that day.
If you have any comments of suggestions, please feel free to e-mail me at Brian33a@hotmail.com