Copyright © 2014 by Elliot Hawk (elliothawk@outlook.com)
Disclaimer: The material in this work is for mature audiences only and contains graphic sexual content and language. It is intended only for those aged 18 and older. All of the characters in this work are assumed to be at least 18 years of age.This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and settings are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, names, locales, organizations, or persons living or dead, is entirely coincidental. In the real world having sex without using a condom can be very dangerous to your health. Don't ruin your life or your future. Slip it on before you slip it in.
This is a mostly true story of a guy I met in high school. Names/details etc. have been changed. This is my first go at writing a short story like this, so I would love to hear your thoughts/suggestions/criticisms and if you want me to write any further stories about Elliot and Tim :)
I can't remember exactly how old I was when I first started noticing the funny way I felt looking at other guys, but I can remember who it was I was looking at. It was 2003 and I was watching the Rugby World Cup, marvelling at the speed, strength and skill that was on display. But I soon started noticing something else that was on display that I marvelled at even more, the thickset, muscle bound Adonises playing the game. One that caught my eye in particular was a young fly-half for the England team named Jonny Wilkinson, a stunning 24 year old with beautiful short blond hair and a trim, rippling tanned physique. Despite playing for the arch enemy of my own country Australia, he quickly became my favourite player. I couldn't take my eyes off the curve of his rear in his white rugby shorts, his thick biceps and broad muscular pecs. As soon as the tournament was over I went with my dad to our local junior club and signed up for the next season, all the while dreaming of being the next Jonny.
By the time I reached high school my obsession with rugby had dissipated into a more general obsession with all sports, or more accurately the men who competed in them. Like most Aussies I'd been swimming almost as long as I could walk, but I started competitively training in my first year of high school. The early morning trainings were made all the more bearable by being surrounded by my toned and brawny classmates in the tiny Speedos we had to wear, maroon in our school colours. Waterpolo naturally followed, along with soccer, cricket, track and field and gymnastics with each new sport bringing new uniforms and new guys for me to steal secret glances at in the change rooms and on the field. Although my passion for rugby boys was unchanged, my biggest sporting successes came in rowing, a sport that I instantly fell in love with. After starting in yr8 as most rowers do, I went on to become the state champion and was offered a boarding scholarship at a prestigious private boys school on the Gold Coast in yr 10.
Settling into life at boarding school was a bit of a tough transition at first. There were 5 boarding houses, each housing students from yrs8-12 with about 10-15 students in each grade. Students in years 8-10 had partitioned dorms as accommodation while the Seniors (11s and 12s) had a room to themselves. Each boarding house had a living room with TV, Xbox, pool and table tennis tables and study areas. I quickly settled into life at the school, taking up about every sport on offer.
Hours of swimming, rowing and rugby training gradually made by body taught and nicely muscled. I was about 5'10", tall for my age with wavy, tussled brown hair that was almost long enough to fall foul of the school dress code. Girls had been commenting on my sparkling sapphire eyes since primary school, which usually elicited a shy smile that exposed my flawless and shining white teeth' (I always thought I was slightly bucktoothed but nobody else ever agreed) and more admiration for the dimples that dug into my cheeks with each grin. Stuck in between was a light dusting of freckles that had become thicker the more time I spent out on the water training. Swimming and rowing had definitely made the biggest impact on my body, my shoulders had broadened with well defined delts and lats drawing the eye down towards my vee shaped abdomen and narrower hips. The rugby had thickened me out a bit though, so I wasn't what you'd call a swimmer's build. With fairly beefy legs and a thick, round, pretty gigantic muscular ass I wasn't a skinny twink. The swimming had also contributed to a nice all over tan and I'd been spared the struggles with acne most guys my age had, leaving my skin flawless but for a tiny brown mole here or there. Although every time I got changed in the locker room the true whiteness of my ass was exposed (thankfully the nickname Moonshine' didn't stick around for too long). As I got more serious about the rowing and rugby I stopped bothering to shave myself for swimming, and light brown fuzz started to grow over my legs stomach and chest.
But by far my favourite part of my body was my package. My dick wasn't huge, but it was nice and really thick at about 7.5 inches. The best part was I was a shower and not a grower, so my cock stayed sweet and fat when I wasn't hard and combined with my low hanging round balls it was impossible not to notice me when I put on my Speedos. I'd caught friends, class mates, teachers, coaches, teammate's mothers and even a few dads stealing quick glances. At first it made me really self conscious, but eventually I really started to get off on catching people checking me out. I started purposefully buying Speedos and rowing zoot suits a size too small, small enough that the waistband barely covered the base of my dick and the lower parts of my ass cheeks would sometimes be revealed. I would always spend a good minute or so positioning myself before each training session or meet and then spend half the time looking around to see if anybody would notice. I even started trying it out in the dorm rooms, wearing shorter shorts and always sitting with my legs slightly spread open to see who noticed. Most of the guys would take a fleeting look now and again (some more than others) especially when I walked around the dorms after my showers, always purposefully holding the towel as low as I could get away with. But despite my confident swagger when around the pools or in the crew boats in my tight fitting lycra, I was way too nervous about anybody finding out that I wanted more than guys to just look at my junk, so I didn't try and see if any of the other guys felt the same way. The risk just wasn't worth it, so I resigned myself to keeping my fantasies in my head and jerking off while the other guys were asleep. Besides, I figured that most of the guys were just comparing anyway and if by chance one of the others was gay, they would have noticed me staring at them a long time ago. I couldn't help myself, there were so many testosterone fuelled budding men that I was usually slack jawed and staring at the plethora of ass, bulges, abs and other fantastic body parts on show. But there was one guy I stared at more than any other, one who inspired most of my late night jack-offs.
Tim Bradford was about as close to the embodiment of the perfect male as you could get. He was a Year 12 Senior in my boarding house and I'd been infatuated with him since the day I first started there. He stood about 6'3" with a striking face that was always smirking or laughing. Bright blond hair, brilliant green eyes and an absolutely radiant smile had me gobsmacked when he first introduced himself as House Captain in his thick Australian country accent. I was so enamoured I scarcely said a word other than a stammering, barely audible "Elliot Whittaker" when he asked me my name. I responded to most questions with a shy smile as he showed me around the dorm rooms on my first day. When I eventually managed to draw my attention away from his astonishingly cute face, I noticed that underneath his captivating visage was an athlete's physique. His broad and bulky shoulders and pecs always stretched the limits of his school uniform shirt while his bubble butt was thicker and rounder even than mine, as were his legs. Similarly, his bulging arms always struggled to be free of any school blazer sleeve he tried to force them through. On weekends he did away with sleeves all together, opting for singlets or no shirt at all. He had no body fat to speak of; every inch of him was rippling muscle and defined lines. His skin was light, smooth and hairless except for the peach fluffy hair along his burly thighs.
In the weeks and months that followed he would occasionally chat to me at dinner, in the dorms and in the hallways between classes to see how I was settling in. I found out he was from a sheep station in country New South Wales and along with being my House Boarding Captain he was the school Sports Captain and Captain of the 1st XV Rugby team. He was a natural leader on the field and a lot of guys said he would have been School Captain too if his family had been wealthier and donated more money to the school board, but I thought it had more to do with the fact that the guy was just too loud and exuberant. He was always cracking jokes and pulling pranks, but the teachers and other staff just couldn't help but love him. He was that type of frustrating person that was good at pretty much everything. Along with rugby he also did waterpolo, track and field and he even played American football on weekends. He could play the guitar, violin and drums, sang with the voice of an angel and excelled academically to boot. He pretty much had every high school girl in the area lining up to be fucked whenever the boarders managed to go to parties on the weekends with the day students, and he obliged, returning on Sunday night with stories to share with us younger boys. As much as you wanted to hate him and think of him as an arrogant dickhead, he was such a kind, honest and genuine guy that you couldn't help but like him. That and he was fucking hilarious. He was everything I, and probably ever other guy in the school, wanted to be.
About halfway through the year I was invited to train with the 1st XV rugby team as part of a development squad. Tim and I started to get to know each other more and I gradually managed to hide my blushing every time he spoke to me. I had a much harder time hiding my stiff dick during scrums or lineouts, when Tim and another senior would grab me by the ass and lift me to retrieve the throw. The tight Speedos came in handy hiding my half hard-ons, but I was always terrified that one of the other guys would notice and start harassing me. It made it even harder whenever Tim and I came close to each other on the field. Whenever he wrapped his arms around me and tackled me to the ground I would get a whiff of sweat, grass and Lynx that just about did my head in. The power and violent aggression he used to take me down just made me lust after him even more, he was an alpha on the rugby field and he absolutely knew it.
One afternoon session he tackled me so often my usual semi gave way to an absolute raging erection. I was absolutely certain that everybody would notice, but thankfully the training was so exhausting most of the guys were completely out of it. Relief swept over me when the coach finally blew his whistle and shouted for us to head to the showers, but before I could grab my bag and run the strength and conditioning coach yelled "Wait a second boys, we've got a trial game on Saturday so we'll finish up with some stretching before you head off. Pair up with whoever's nearest and we'll start with hamstrings."
I looked up from my bag slightly and gulped when I realised who was nearest to me; Tim Bradford. He smiled his perfect smile and came over to me. "Righto, on your back, spread your legs. You're lucky Whittaker. I've got sluts usually begging for this sort of treatment."
Thinking of him pounding balls deep into some random slut didn't do my situation any good. I tried to think of anything; math homework, old ladies, anything to try and bring my stiffy down but it wasn't working with him standing right there in his rugby shorts and skin tight jersey, little droplets of sweat still making his body glisten. "Fuck off," was the best comeback I could manage as I lay down on the cool grass, still frantically trying to mentally suck the blood out of my member. He knelt down and grabbed my left leg, lifting and tilting it back to stretch out the hamstring. As he leaned into me there was no more hope, I could feel his rough hands on my thighs and as he pushed deeper into the stretch his crotch came within a couple inches of mine. I cursed my flexibility in my head as he pushed closer, sweat dripping off his face onto my chest and his flat hard stomach pressing into my legs. I tried to think of something to say to keep him looking at me and not down at my dick but it was too late, after a couple seconds holding the stretch he pulled my leg back and looked down to grab my other leg and noticed the barely concealable outline of my raging dick. I could just see his eyebrow rise slightly in surprise as he picked up my right leg and began to stretch it back. I stared fixatedly up into the clouds to avoid any chance of eye contact as he began to push into my thighs again. He pushed harder and faster this time, causing me to grimace and look back at him. Our eyes met and I saw the faintest smirk on his lips as his flashing green eyes bore into mine.
"Your boots fucking stink man," was all he said, still smirking.
"Probably not as bad as that mangy slut's pussy you ate out last week, I think you like it," I shot back, trying to smile and act casual even as my heart beat so fast I swear he could have felt it through my legs. He smiled again and slowly looked down at my crotch. Swiftly dropping my leg down, he backhanded me in the balls and stood up, laughing softly.
"Bitch needs to learn some manners," he chuckled as he left me clutching my nuggets in pain while a few of the other senior guy around laughed. The only positive was at least the pain took my hard-on away quick smart, sparing me the embarrassment of any other guys noticing.
Over the next few days I tried to avoid Tim as much as I could, which wasn't easy considering we ate, slept, showered and studied in the same building. It didn't take long for me to realise though that Tim seemed to be doing the opposite. I caught him looking at me during dinner, watching me from across the room as I played table tennis one night and despite not being in the swim team he showed up to training one morning "for fitness cross-training" as he put it. Seeing him in a Speedo nearly made me nut at first sight, especially after noticing his family jewels were more ample than any other guy there.
He never brought up my boner at rugby though and I was beginning to think he hadn't really noticed it until one Wednesday night during study hour. Each night after dinner we'd have to sit down for supervised study time assisted by our housemasters. I was struggling through my maths homework and asked Callum Howard, our 25yr old house tutor for help. "I'm helping Jack with his science assignment, go and ask one of the senior boys for help. Oi, Tim!" he yelled, spotting Tim wrestling with one of the other seniors, "Stop making so much noise, it's study time and if you're finished with your homework you can help Elliot with his."
Tim looked over at us, smiling while still holding his friend in a headlock "Sure thing Sir. Grab your shit Whittaker we'll study in my room, it's quieter."
I mumbled a sort of nervous affirmative and bundled my books together to follow him to his room. I'd never been in any of the senior rooms before. They were pretty basic, a long single bed on one side of the room, a desk at the foot of it and a wardrobe on the opposite side. Tim's room had a guitar in one corner and a few rugby posters adorning the walls while his desk was covered with photos of home. There was a pretty typical amount of dirty clothes scattered across the floor, leaving a distinct odour of sweat, grass and balls. My dick gave a little leap at the thought of what Tim got up to in this room late at night; most guys in the dorms were convinced at least 3 chicks had snuck in through his window already this year to get fucked by him. I dumped my books on the desk and sat down, eyeing the photos of Tim in horse riding gear at his family's farm (flannelette shirt and akubra hat), photos of him in his Navy cadet outfit and a few photos of him fishing and travelling with his family. I couldn't really take my eyes off of the Navy cadet photo, `Fuck I've got a thing for boys in uniform.'
"Shit, I've got to clean that up before inspection tomorrow," Tim muttered as he swept some of the clothes under his bed with his foot. He pinched a pair of white briefs between his toes and flung them at me. "Catch."
"Fuck off Bradford," I tried to duck but they still caught me in the face. I flung them away but not before I caught the scent. His scent. It made my dick jump a little bit higher, "That's fucking disgusting bro. I could smell those."
"Can't smell any worse than your bloody feet," he said beaming. "Fuck it's hot in here," Tim groaned, sliding the window open, "let me get changed." He was still wearing his white school shirt, tie and grey pants. I always marvelled at how nice his ass looked in the school pants, stretching the fabric taught across his muscular globes. I made to duck outside the door to let him change but Tim just started to undress while I watched until all he had on was his grey socks and blue satin boxers. He turned his back to me and began to rummage through the bottom of his wardrobe, the muscles in his back rippling and tensing as he threw clothes around in his search. "Here they are!" he said as he whipped out a pair of black rugby shorts. Before I had time to blink, he slipped out of his boxers and into the rugby shorts, for the briefest of seconds exposing his perfect ass cheeks. It felt like time was standing still but thankfully I had the sense not to still be staring by the time he turned around. I rifled through the pages of my maths book as he bounced over and sat down cross legged on the bed. It was all I could do to resist peeking over at him, knowing there was nothing underneath his shorts to stop me from getting a glimpse.
"So what are you having trouble with?" Tim asked. I could see him rearranging himself through the fabric of his shorts in the corner of my eye. I was at half mast now, my heart rate increasing.
"Just a couple of differentiation questions in this maths assignment," I said, focusing more on trying to keep my cock down. Tim got up and walked behind my chair, peering over my shoulder to get a better view.
"Is it that one that you're having trouble with?" he asked, pointing over my shoulder and leaning down to point at one of the equations. His pits were so close to my nose I was practically breathing their musk. I was instantly hard.
"Yeah. Don't know what to do for it," I gulped trying to keep my voice steady. Tim moved back and sat on the bed, leaning back on his elbows. He looked at me for a while, his brow slightly furrowed, reaching up to scratch one of his nipples. I couldn't help myself; my eyes flickered down to his nipples and then straight back to his face. It was quick, but he would have noticed. His lips parted in a slight smirk.
"I've got the whole assignment in my locker somewhere if you want it, I did the same one two years ago and Mr. Stuetzl is too lazy to change them every year," he sat up, scratching his lower abdomen just above his waistband, "But I'd need something in return."
"Like what?" I asked, genuinely perplexed.
He stared at me again, his deep emerald eyes drilling deep into me. Then he lazily pointed at my crotch and said "You're having trouble keeping it in your pants again."
My face flushed bright red instantly. "Fuck off," was once again the only comeback I could muster. I tried to push my dick down into my underwear to make it go soft. I turned back to the maths book and tried to focus on the graphs and equations.
"Don't worry mate, it's been pretty obvious to me that you're a homo ever since you got here. Bitches love me, why shouldn't homos?" He said, smirking even wider now.
"I'm not a fucking homo you asshole, are you gonna help me with my maths or not?" I snapped, my voice breaking not so much in anger but because I was stressed that somebody had figured me out. My mind was racing, I couldn't figure out what to do.
"Yeah you are, don't bullshit with me," He said, not smiling anymore, "Nobody else has a fucking boner every rugby session but you." I looked up at him, colour drained from my face. Seeing my anguish he sighed, punched me lightly on the shoulder and said softly, "Look buddy, I don't give a shit so don't stress. Nobody else has noticed but me from what I can tell. You do a pretty good job of hiding it." The smile had returned and I felt a bit more relaxed.
"Please don't tell anybody," I mumbled. It felt like an instant weight had been lifted off my shoulders. I'd never admitted to anybody before the way I felt about guys, but Tim didn't seem to care at all. "I don't want anybody to know."
"I'm not going to fucking tell anybody, chill the fuck out," he chuckled, "Now do you want this fucking assignment or what homo boy?"
"Yes, but don't call me that shithead."
"I'll call you what I want. If you want it I can give it to you, but like I said I need something in return."
"What?"
Tim looked me over and paused for a bit before responding. "My parents rang this week and said that they aren't letting me go out of boarding on weekends anymore because they want me studying for my final exams rather than partying. No partying means no girls, no girls mean no pussy, and no pussy means no getting off. I can't focus on school if I'm not getting off," he said carefully, watching my reaction, "Jerking doesn't do it for me anymore. I need to fuck something."
I stared at him, equal parts shocked and aroused. "You what?" I spluttered. Was he saying what I think he was saying?
"I want you to suck me off." He said, not breaking eye contact.
"Are you serious?" I blurted out, not believing what I was hearing. He rolled over on his bed and reached for the blinds, swinging them shut. Then he walked over to the door and stuck a doorstop behind it. Staring back at me, he dropped his shorts. I gazed at him, mesmerised. It was probably the nicest dick I had ever seen. He was thick and long even when flaccid, his foreskin bunched up neatly over the large head of his cock, a single pulsing vein curving around his shaft. He had only a small amount of trimmed light pubic hair above his dick, his immense round balls hanging smooth and hairless. He flicked his shorts over to his wardrobe and stood there, waiting.
"I know you want it homo boy, you've been staring at it all year. Well now I need someone to suck it." I couldn't move, I was paralysed, in shock at how quickly things were going. "Just suck it." He said again, firmer this time. I couldn't say I didn't want to; every fibre of my being was longing to taste that sweet rod, to bury my nose into the space between his legs.
"What if somebody walks in?" I whispered, still frozen with fear.
"The door is blocked. Suck it already. This is your only chance."
I rose slowly from the chair and crouched down before him. His soft cock was just centimetres from my mouth. Tim reached put his hand on the back of my head, gently forcing it down towards him. I let him push me, until my lips brushed against the tip of his penis. "Open your mouth." He ordered. I obeyed, parting my lips and letting the tip of his dick push into my mouth. He tasted sickly sweet, and the smell was like fresh cotton underwear mixed with sweat. "Take it all in," came the sound of his deep husky whisper and again I obeyed. I opened my mouth up wider, swallowing the whole length of him. He thrust into me gently; his eyes closed moaning, "That's it," as he let out a gasp. The sound of him moaning in pleasure travelled straight down my ears and into my dick. I wanted to please him, make him feel good.
I began to bob up and down on his dick, feeling it swell up in my mouth. I couldn't believe how thick it was getting or how long, after only a few pumps I could barely get all the way down to the base. I wrapped my lips around his bulging head, swirling my tongue around as I sucked. He moaned again softly. The sounds excited me even more so I reached up with my right hand and grabbed his shaft. It felt so weird holding another guy's dick in my hand, yet so right at the same time. I squeezed it gently, feeling the warm flesh under my finger tips hardening with each pulsing throb. I could feel his whole cock pulsing now, and I could taste warm and sweet pre-cum on my tongue. I sucked it down, fuelling my ecstasy even further. With my left hand I grabbed his balls, cupping them in my hand and rolling them between my fingers. They were the size of eggs, thick and juicy. I leant in and began to suck on his testicles, giving his balls the same treatment as I had his cock while continuing to jerk him off.
"Fuck yeah," he breathed, bucking his hips slightly into my clenched fist. I moved my mouth to the other testicle, slobbering over it till it was covered in spit. Tim grabbed the back of my head with both hands and lifted me back up onto his cock, pushing me down further onto it. I chocked, gagging and spluttering but he pushed me further down, relenting only when I pushed myself back off him, coughing. A rope of spit hung between my lips and the end of his rock hard cock, almost like a lasso pulling me back in. I dove back on bouncing up and down on his cock. I couldn't believe how big his dick had gotten, at least 8.5 inches and thick too.
The hands returned, pushing me back down as I gagged again. Instead of pushing me all the down this time though, Tim began to thrust his hips in and out, fucking my throat. I opened my mouth as wide as I could to take it all in as he kept throat fucking me. I could feel it banging into the bag of my throat, but my gag reflex began to slightly subside as I felt him probe deeper with each thrust. As his speed and depth increased so too did his breathing. He began to pant softly, sweat starting to form on his arms and legs, making his blond hairs gleam. He looked straight down into my eyes and unleashed his evil little smirk. "You fucking love this don't you? Fuck this is good, take it you little bitch." He grunted, his whole body tensing with each thrust. I was so captivated by the sight of his abs clenching and his biceps swelling that I almost forgot his dick was in my mouth. He was like a caveman, just pure testosterone pumping through his veins. He kept thrusting, pushing faster and faster as his breathing became more laboured.
Fuuuuck, I'm gonna cum," he gasped. I felt a surge of adrenalin when I heard that. I reached up and grabbed his dick again, furiously working it through my hands and forcing my tongue into his dick. "Shit, I'm gonna cum, swallow it bitch," he whispered. Three more pumps and then the thrust deep into my mouth, his cock shooting thick wads of cum into my mouth. It came so hard and fast that it started leaking out of my mouth and running down my chin. I gulped and slurped as much of it down as I could, squeezing and milking every last drip out of him. I had never tasted anything like it, horrible and wonderful at the same time. He shuddered and moaned, looking down into my eyes and grinning. "That was good work. I think you're going to make a good little whore. You need some more training, but that takes time. Did you enjoy that, boy?" He asked. I nodded slowly. "Say, Yes Sir' when you talk to me."
"Yes Sir."
"Good," he pulled his dick out of my mouth and reached for his shorts, pulling them back up over his dick now shining with my spit. He flopped face first down onto his bed, reaching his arm underneath. "Here," he said, flinging a pair of black Bonds briefs at me, "take that and go jack off in the toilet or whatever you want. Wear those to school tomorrow. I'll have your assignment for you tomorrow night, we can study again then." He winked, smiled that perfect smile and rolled over, pulling the covers up over himself.
Head still spinning, I left his room and headed back to my dorm. Everybody else was getting ready for bed, brushing their teeth and getting their stuff ready for tomorrow. I got changed into my pyjamas and lay down. After waiting for everybody to fall asleep, I crept into the bathroom with Tim's jocks. Closing my eyes, I jerked out one of the biggest loads of my life. The next day I wore his Bonds to school and to rugby training afterwards. Tim didn't speak to me once all day and I was starting to panic about what I'd done the night before and whether people were going to find out. I felt sick with stress and could barely touch dinner.
Later that night, I was sitting at my desk trying to make up some bullshit for a poem for English with Mr Howard's help. Someone tapped me on the shoulder. I spun around and saw Tim standing there smiling his big toothy grin. "Mr Howard, Elliot still had some work to finish off on his maths from last night, do you mind if I help him with that?" He looked at me smirking, his eyes shining wickedly. I had a feeling I was never going to be disappointed to get maths homework again.