DOODLING
By Tommyhawk1@AOL.COM
WWW.TOMMYHAWKSFANTASYWORLD.COM
I was seated in Tolliver's Coffehouse just off campus waiting for my next class to begin. Normally I would have been in Algebra, but this was mid-terms, the three days before Thanksgiving were devoted to midterms, with classes jumbled and everyone poring over their books every chance they got. Me, I'd studied all weekend and if I didn't know enough to pass Early American History by now, I wasn't going to learn it by a review. Instead I was trying to destress the best way I could in the time I had, that is, I was doodling in my notebook.
I'd been doing it since high school, and I have to say, I was pretty damned good, in a caricature sort of way. If I drew Angela Barrett as a sleazy prostitute (like I had my senior year), you could both tell it was Angela Barrett and that it was a sleazy prostitute. At this moment, the object of my pen was the object of my current lust, Andrew Kirck. He was a half-back for the university football team and we shared a couple of classes (even though I was a freshman and he was a sophmore), and as captain of his high school football team, he bore the rather inevitable moniker of Captain Kirck. To his credit, he discouraged any use of it, pointing out that he wasn't captain of the football team at this university, so it wasn't appropriate. I overheard him telling a friend that frankly, the joke had gotten way old, already! Not that I was a Trekkie with displaced lust, my problem stemmed from the fact the beginning of my physical education class (they required it for the first two years, four semesters of it, then they let go of you) coincided with the end of football practice and I was going into the lockerroom and had a locker where I got to see the football squad walking out and going to their own section of the lockers. Most of them wore shorts or wrapped a towel, but not Andy Kirck! He walked right out and get everyone take a look at the billy club he was swinging between his legs. And to top it all off (and make me need to sketch him while I waited between classes), last Friday, he'd stopped halfway down the short stretch where his whanger was on display to me to stand and talk with a classmate for nearly five minutes, in the course of which he'd pitched a half-boner, you know where it fattens up and distends, but doesn't rise up. So I'd seen him in his full glory, nearly, and that image had been dancing through my waking and sleeping fantasies every since.
So this doodling was meant to be cathartic, I'd draw out my fantasy and get it out of my system, and that would let me concentrate on the history of our country from John Smith to George Washington (as far as we'd gotten in history thus far, we'd go through the Civil War by Christmas) enough to pass the mid-term with a solid B plus.
I'd seen Andrew naked enough in that lockerroom to be able to draw him pretty well, and drawing myself was easy since I was drawing my back to the viewer, down on my knees and chowing on that pud. I carefully made the prick neither larger or smaller than real life, this was going to be as close to the real thing as I could manage. I was having a bit of trouble with his jawline, how to draw that raw masculine power he had which didn't diminish his rugged good looks one damned bit. If I could capture that jawline, I'd have half the trouble with doing his face licked. The rest would be that nose, simple, straight, arrogant and aristocratic, but lacking any hint of femininity or effete softness. One day a misplaced elbow would break that nose, but that was only going to make it more beautiful. The hair, a military flattop of super-short hair, was a cinch, just a row of short lines across the top and I was done. The eyes, too, were simple, on this scale I didn't have to show them as sapphire-blue gems, just a careful couple of curves to suggest them would be fine. And the mouth, that perpetual smile, I could do that in my sleep, he wore it constantly.
The hour was nearly up and I was working on the final touches of my sketch, putting in the background (the lockerroom, naturally) and an outline of the coach watching us in horror (he felt any guy not on the football team was a waste of testosterone and didn't mind letting us all know it, I was glad he wasn't my teacher this semester and would avoid him like the plague for the other three classes I'd have to serve in that place), and not doing so bad. I was feeling pretty good about things otherwise, next time I had filthy thoughts about Andrew, I could pull out the picture and add some more detail or colorize it, and keep it by my bed, and a few stroke sessions would push Andrew right out of my brain's search engine from a memory to a fantasy, and capable of being ignored when I had to study. I was even spending more time right now thinking about the history test than the drawing when I heard a voice behind me. The worst possible voice you could imagine!
"Hey there, Gareth, what are you doodling on? Hey, a dirty picture, I..." And that pause was realizing who the guy in the picture was. For you guessed it, it was Andy Kirck, looking at my porn picture of me sucking his cock! I looked around and into his eyes and I knew right away that he not only knew that was him in the picture, the other person in the picture was me!
I closed my notebook, far, far too late. "Hey, Andy!" I said.
"So...what you up to?"
"Just waiting to get to my history test." I said. Looked at my watch, though I knew damned well what time it was. "I got to go now, in fact."
I was shoving my stuff into my backpack fast as I could, but that takes time, you know. It let Andy say, "Gareth?"
"Yeah?" I said as casually as I could.
"What the hell?"
I didn't need an explanation for that! "I was just doodling, dude. Relaxing before a test. That's all it is. Honest!"
I finished packing my backpack and slung it and got the hell out of there. And I totally boned my history test, and can you blame me?
My last test and last class before Thanksgiving weekend was the test in that Algebra class I had missed due to the changed schedule during mid-terms. And it was a class I had with Andy. I approached that test with a dread that had nothing to do with my worries about the test; unlike history, Algebra was something that, once you got it (and I had), the test wasn't a problem. My dread was that Andy would be in that class with me. He was taking it the second time, was my guess, from things that had happened in the class. I sat down and looked around.
Andy was sitting in his usual desk, and for the first time, I really noticed how he had an unobstructed view of me from there. I couldn't see him, he was seeing me from slightly behind (two rows over and one seat behind), and when I turned and looked, he was looking right at me, and I couldn't tell from the look on his face whether he was mad or upset, or cool with what I'd drawn, or what!
I turned when the professor came in and took my test, but I felt his eye tracks over me the entire time. If Algebra had been one whit hard for me, I would have boned that test, too. As it was, I probably got a B instead of an A but nothing worse. Done, I got up quietly and handed in my test, and left.
And Andy was right behind me, turning in his test. I left the room with my gut churning and in the hall, I walked, knowing he was right behind me, following me. Would he say something, was he guiding me into a trap with some other football players waiting to beat the shit out of me, or what?
"Gareth?" came his voice at the most isolated section of hallway we had, nobody else was anywhere near.
I decided I had to tough this out, best I could. At least he wasn't going to beat the shit out of me, unless he planned to do it all by himself. I stopped, turned around and said, "What?"
"That doodle of me that you drew."
Here it comes. "Yeah? I'm sorry about that, it was just a doodle, I was killing time."
"Yeah, but, can you do a bigger one for me?"
"Huh?"
"Can you draw a full-sized sketch of me nude?"
"What would you want with that?" I asked. "Never mind. I don't want to know." Hell, this wasn't anything like I was expecting him to be saying. "I'm not very good of an artist, Andy. That sort of caricature of you I did was about the best I can do."
"Yeah, but that's okay, that's what I want. A sort of caricature of me. I want it for a Christmas present."
"Sure, I guess I can do that." I said. "Sure."
"Great." Andy paused. "Do you need me to pose for it?"
"Uh." I gulped, and told the truth. "I wouldn't just have to have you pose for me, but I could do a better job of it for you if you did, yeah."
"So, great." Andy said. Another pause. "You have any more classes this week?"
"No."
"Me, either. Can we go ahead and do it now, then?"
"Sure." I agreed. "That'll give me a bit of time to work it over before I do the final before Christmas."
"We can do it at your place?" Andy lived at one of the dorms.
I lived alone, a studio so tiny it must have violated a few building codes, but it was cheap. "Sure."
"Then let's go."
Andy got into my car, a subcompact, which forced him to fold his large body up even more than I did. He did it, laughing easily at his discomfort. Back at my place, I started setting up a drafting station with my table and a chair. Andy would have to take the bed.
I sat at the table and looked over at Andy. He was naked and using an oil on his body. "Thought I ought to grease up a bit for this." he explained to my stupefied expression. "Want to make sure you can see my body to its best advantage, okay?"
"Okay." I gulped. Shit, this was insane! Why had I agreed to this? This was going to be worse than my looking at him standing in the lockerroom talking and getting a semi-woody!
Andy stretched out on the bed. "Can you see okay?" he asked me from there.
God, the lighting was making that oiled body glisten and outline every curve on his form! "I can see you fine!" I said and my voice was a strangled sort of squeak when I said it. That was an understatement, I could see the indentations on his abs, the way his chest was softly divided in the center with a dimpled area, the way his throat had a deep oval right at the top of that, and I wanted to nibble that soft oval more than any other part of his body!
Andy turned and rested his upper body and head on one hand, elbow on the bed, his lower body turned slightly my way. "I figured on this pose, will this be okay?"
"It'll be fine."
"I figured for my cock, it'd be better if I could get it hard." Andy reached down and began to work his prick. "When I'm soft, it's pretty small." That wasn't what I saw when he got out of the shower, but I just nodded dumbly. He fondled himself as I watched him, saying, "Isn't it funny about how your cock seems to get hard when you don't want it to, but when you want it to, it just sort of shrivels up. Mine isn't wanting to get hard here and normally I walk about with a boner half the time. You ever have that problem?"
"Huh?"
"You ever walk around with a boner for no good reason?"
"Sometimes."
"I hate when that happens. I figure, what's the use of having a boner when you don't want it? Shouldn't you only have one when you want to, like now?"
I was keeping my face fixed on the paper, sketching his body out, just rough lines now. I was going to do my best on this drawing. I figured I could work it out in pencil, do the final in ink, erase the pencil and give him that.
"Gareth? Gareth?" I looked up. He had a full-on hardon in his hand. "How's this? You like it like this?"
"Yah. Yah. That'll be fine."
"You can draw it like this?"
"Sure." I turned my face back firmly to the paper. My heart was pounding. Shit, I had to be crazy, trying to draw him nude, even as a way of making up for my pornographic picture of him.
"Gareth?"
"Yeah?" I looked up again. He was stroking it slowly.
"We never talked about what I was going to pay you for this."
"Oh. Oh! That's okay. Me sketching that image of you, I figure doing this is the least I can do."
"No, I think you deserve more than just that for drawing me. What would you like for it?"
I couldn't say what I really wanted. "No, really, I couldn't take your money for this, honest!"
"I wasn't thinking of money."
I looked back up again, and this time I looked at his face. "Huh?"
"I wasn't thinking about money. But you deserve something for drawing me, and I think you ought to get it. Don't you?" His eyes gestured me downwards in a way that made everything crystal clear.
My eyes stayed fixed on his. "You're right." I heard myself say. "I think I should."
"So get over here and do like you do-do-doodle!" He laughed harder at his joke than it deserved. But so did I.
I got up from that table and around it and over to my bed in no time, knelt down beside it and leaned over to grab that pud and follow my hand up with my mouth. His dick was clean, pink, and tasted a clean as a fresh hot dog right out of the water on the stove, and just as warm and luscious!
"Ahhh, yeahhhh!" Andy groaned as I licked his prick, slathering my saliva all over it. "Shit, man, yeahhhh! Come on, do me like you did me in your doodle! Do me like that!"
His hands grabbed my head and thrust it down over his cock. I had worked up quite a bit of spit on it, so it wasn't an impossible deep-throat swallow, but it was pretty damned peremptory. I gagged but controlled it, and he shoved about two-thirds of that massively long prong into my throat and down a ways.
"Ahhh, yeahh, come on, suck me, man, suck my cock! Come on, you know you want to, I know you want to, you drew yourself sucking me and I'm going to fucking collect on it!"
God, the arrogance of this guy! I ought to bite his cock instead of sucking it...ah, hell, who was I kidding! His arrogance was a part of the appeal, the raw assurance that he could take anything he wanted from me because I wanted it, too, and after all, didn't he deserve it? You can't argue with that sort of sense of total self-worth, you just have to work with it.
So I went to town on his pud and he let go once he realized I was going to do the job right on my own without his hands forcing me down. I was slurping away, figuring that I could siphon off a load and he'd probably make some excuse about the sketch he'd asked for (it had only been a pretext after all, hadn't it?), and that would be the end of it. I'd have a memory instead of a fantasy and that's better than a caricature to jerk off to.
So he surprised me when he said, "Hey, Gareth?
I let go long enough to say one word. "Huh?"
"Get your clothes off and get up on the bed with me. This position is getting boring. If I'm going to be sucked off by you, I want to do it every which way."
That was even better! "Sure, Andy." I stood up and began to strip. Looking at his body while I did it, he was such a beautiful stud there. His gorgeously handsome face was fixed in a slight smirk as he watched me, the eager neophyte, making myself naked for him. With that disdain beaming at me, I got unclothed and climbed onto the bed. Andy didn't move, he was right near the edge so I had to clamber over him. The only way for me to suck on him, since he wasn't moving, was to put my feet up on the pillows and scrunch upwards that way, and I got back a hold of him.
And my prick was resting right on his shoulder. I felt that intimate contact (unintentional, really, I wasn't thinking in terms of him doing a damned thing for me in that bed) and my cock hardened up. I was touching his body, in more places than that, though that was the most stimulating focus of the touching we were doing. My naked body against his, warm and soft and he was so very much there, and I was sucking on him and it was all real, so very real.
I felt his hand moving and when it touched my ass, I damned near creamed. I groaned and my cock surged harder than ever and then his hand was up and between my legs and he had hold of my dick.
Shit, was Andy going to jerk my dick for me while I sucked him? I couldn't be that lucky, could I? Could I?
I groaned again and I slurped and his cock was getting so warm, the kind of warmth that's accompanied by the balls crawling up to plastering themselves against the shaft. Shit, at this rate, I could let my passion control me, and we'd come together. Right freaking together! The thought of that hot come spraying into my mouth while I squirted was just so fucking hot that... Jesus H. Christ, I felt something wet and moist on my cock! Was it, could it be?
It was! Andy Kirck was sucking on my cock! We were sixty-nining, fucking sixty-nining! I didn't try to analyze any of this, I just let myself enjoy it! I sucked and got sucked and my passion was raging in my brain while Andy's prick heated up to a nearly painful degree in my mouth.
He was moaning and so was I and I don't quite know which one of us hit orgasm first. I was hearing his groans of ecstasy while I was having my own senses blasted by my own climax, and when I ejaculated my load down his throat, his own flood was jetting into my own. Andy jammed his prick as far down my throat as he could when he came, I did the same thing to him, and we both ended up gulping down each other's wad-packs as they squirted out. It was like my entire world was one enormous orgasm, and nothing else existed, my prick deep within Andy's body and his deep within me.
Done, I rolled off and onto my back, my blanket was wadded up in a near-roll underneath me, making my position lumped up and awkward, but I wasn't in any mood to complain.
"Man, that was awesome!" Andy breathed. "I can't believe you shot in my mouth! And let me shoot in yours."
I laughed feebly. "I was kind of lost in the moment."
"I can believe that." he said with feeling. "Well, anyway, that was damned good payment, you have to admit."
"It sure was."
"So, let's get to it."
"Okay." I said dreamily. Then, "Get to what?"
"Your sketching of me nude." he reminded me. "You said you'd do it, and I need it for my Christmas present."
I looked at him, surprised. "You mean you really want me to do it?"
"Yeah, doofus!" He said. "That was the deal. You suck my cock, you draw me naked, so I can give it as a present."
What else was there to do? I got up from the bed, Andy posed himself again and I sat back at the table and started drawing him.
I got the basic drawing done and said, "Well, that ought to be enough. I can finish this up over the holiday and have it ready for you by next Monday."
"Let me see that." Andy said to me.
I showed him the image. "This is just in pencil, I'm going to do it over in ink and erase and...."
"No, no, this is all wrong, all wrong!" Andy complained.
"What's wrong with it? I did the best I could, I said I wasn't a very good artist...."
"No, no, it's not that. The pose is all wrong."
"Oh." I said. "So, what do you want to do?"
"You got plans for Thanksgiving?"
"Not really." My parents weren't high on my list of favorites, nothing hostile, but there you go, I didn't particularly want to go home for Thanksgiving.
"Good. You come home with me. Tomorrow morning, you can try drawing me again, this time in my own bed back home."
"All right." I said. Then, a flash of inspiration. "Uh, given this is a totally new drawing I'm doing, I'll have to be paid all over again."
Andy looked at me without an expression. "Well of course. That goes without saying. We'll just keep doing it over until we get something I want."
"Yeah." I said, smiling a lot broader than I probably should have. "We'll just have to keep on doodling, won't we?"
Andy did smile then. "Yeah. Just keep on doodling."
THE END
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WWW.TOMMYHAWKSFANTASYWORLD.COM