Exposed: Chapter 34
Sunday morning Brock was in pain. He decided he'd rather sleep a couple of more hours than take his pain medication at the prescribed interval. So between the pain meds beginning to wear off and morning stiffness, he was in a bad way.
"Just stay in bed," James said, "I'll get your prescription and a bottle of water. There's no reason for you to get out of bed until the meds start to kick in." James also found Brock's phone and put it beside the bed because he expected Florence to call any minute to check on her boy.
After getting Brock his meds and phone, James started to go to the bathroom. "Where are you going?" Brock asked.
"To piss and then take a shower."
"You can piss, but then I expect your ass back in bed with me."
James crossed his arms and said, "Watch it with the demands, Buster. Now might be the only chance I ever have to kick your ass, and I'm just looking for an excuse to try it."
Brock put on his best sad face and said, "I'm sorry. I'm just wanting some love from the hottest boyfriend any guy could ever have. Please?"
James laughed. Brock knew how to play him like a fiddle. So after using the toilet James crawled back into bed and cuddled up to Brock's good side.
They were talking about their Summer plans when Brock's phone rang. It was Florence, and James suddenly had a wicked idea.
While he and Brock had been talking, James had his head resting on Brock's good shoulder and was idly tracing Brock's nipples with his fingers. But now, with Brock conversing with his mother, James began slowly tracing a path down his torso. When James' fingers were near his navel Brock realized where his fingers were headed and he whispered "James, stop that." However, James whispered back, "Your lips say, no; but your cock screams, yes."
James took hold of Brock's engorged cock, and Brock couldn't resist a soft moan, which Florence mistook for a groan of pain. "Oh baby," she said, "You sound miserable..." If she only knew how far from miserable he was at that moment. Florence quickly told Brock to take care of himself and said goodbye.
When Brock was off the phone, he said, "James Pierce, you are a mean SOB."
James pulled off Brock's hard cock, and said, "I can stop if you want."
"Don't you ..." Brock couldn't finish his sentence before James swallowed Brock's cock.
If Brock was still hurting, he was too preoccupied with pleasure to notice or care. Brock locked his hands behind his head and tried to relax, but when the man you love is giving you the best head of your entire life, that was easier said than done, Finally Brock exploded, and it was volcanic. James had no chance of swallowing all the cum, or even containing it. After his orgasm, Brock lay with his legs still spread, his eyes closed, and slowly, deeply breathing.
Finally, Brock said, `That was amazing. It's just what I needed. Now let me do you."
"I appreciate that you want to reciprocate, but that is not a good idea. I'll just take care of it myself."
"Can I watch?" Brock asked sheepishly.
James kissed him and said, "Sure babe."
As James began stroking himself, Brock watched with fascination. Something about Brock watching him was a turn-on for James and he began to put on a show that would have put most Chaturbaters to shame. James cock was huge and Brock wondered how he was even able to get that monster up his ass. His only explanation was where there is a will, no better a need, there is a way.
James noticed that as Brock watched, his own cock was beginning to stir. Brock had a remarkably short refractory period and seemed to be able to come twice for every orgasm James had, something of which James was a bit jealous. James reached down and took hold of Brock's cock and it immediately rose to attention. There was James with both hands full of cock and getting closer by the minute. Finally, it happened. James began to cum and Brock wasn't far behind. James made sure Brock's face, chest, and abs were covered with cum. Brock looked like he was covered in donut glaze.
When James had recovered his focus he noticed that Brock was trying to lick the cum from his lips, and said, "Here babe, let me help you with that." Then James began collecting cum with his tongue and feeding it to Brock. When Brock's face was clean, James said, "I think we both need a shower."
James and Brock had showered together many times in their room's shower, but it was small, intended for only one person. Two normal-size teen boys would have found it a tight fit, but when one was a large muscular jock, it ensured there was a lot of body contact. But the wheelchair-accessible shower in the downstairs room had plenty of space, and Brock said with a big grin, "We can have some fun in here."
"Hey stud," James said, "we'd better see what the doctor has to say about that."
Brock looked concerned and said, "You're not really going to ask the doctor if we can have sex?
"No," James said, and Brock sighed in relief. Then James said, " Why would I ask if I can have sex? I'm not the one who is injured. You on the other hand ...." Suddenly the concerned look returned to Brock's face. Then James said, "We'd better get our asses in gear or we'll be last for Sunday dinner, and you know what that means."
Mill Brook had a tradition that any boy not seated before the Head Master's prayer was required to bus tables and help with dishes. James had to do that just once After scrapping all the food fragments from hundreds of plates and bowls used to serve Sunday dinner, he vowed never to be late again.
James and Brock quickly dressed in their Brookies and hurried to the cafeteria. They made it with only a few minutes to spare before Dean Meyers closed the doors for the prayer. They checked the seating chart for the day and found that Dean Meyers had put them together at the same table as Kip, Lance, Weston, and Malik. It was very unusual that a social group would be seated together at Sunday dinner. Meyers made it a practice to `break up the cliques.'
When James and Brock sat down, Lance said, "I wasn't sure we'd see you two today. I figured you'd still be breaking in your new love nest."
"Lance, don't be crude," Kip said. "Let the two lovebirds have their privacy."
"I for one think Mr. Gregg's decision to move James and Brock downstairs shows a lot of compassion and sensitivity," Malik said.
"Thank you, Malik," Brock said. "At least someone at this table is capable of empathy."
Then Malik added, "It's the first time in weeks I wasn't awakened to cries of Oh James, you're so big,' or Who's your daddy now?'"
The table burst into laughter, and James looked at Malik and said, "Et tu brute?" Malik just shrugged in response. After a bit more teasing, Weston finally, asked, "So, Brock how are you really feeling?"
"When the pain meds start wearing off it hurts like a son-of-a-bitch. I never imagined there was something worse than being kicked in the nuts, but this comes close."
"Do you think you'll be back this season?"
"Hell, yes! I am not letting an asshole like Steven Thad steal my last season of lacrosse. I just hope I get to kick his ass in the state playoffs."
The guys were eating dessert when Gage stopped by and asked whether James and Brock were still going to be at Game Club.
Before James could say anything Brock said, "Absolutely. I can still play cards and roll a die."
"Fine, but I will be drinking your beers because they won't mix with your pain meds," James said.
"Fine then I get your pizza," Brock snapped back.
Gage laughed and said, "You two sound like my Grandma and Grandpa McHenry."
"Shit," James said, "Look what you've done to me?"
"What I've done to you? More like what you've done to me. You've domesticated me," Brock said. "I used to be a wildcat, now I'm just a..."
"Pussycat," Kip said finishing Brock's sentence.
Weston started singing, "What's new pussycat? Whoa, whoa, whoa." And Lance joined in, "What's new pussycat? Whoa, whoa, whoa, oh whoa...."
"That's enough of that shit!" Brock said. "If I hear one more Whoa, whoa, whoa, oh whoa, bruised ribs or not, I'm kicking someone's ass."
The guys started laughing and couldn't stop. Soon Brock couldn't keep a straight face and began to laugh, but was stopped short by an excruciating sharp pain that caused him to wince and hold his side.
"Are you alright?" James asked.
"Yeah, I think... damn this hurts."
"Let's get you back to the room," James said, "It's time for another round of meds and an ice pack."
"Do you need some help?" Kip asked.
"No, Nurse Jimmy can handle it," Brock said.
"Watch it Pussycat," James said.
On their way back to the dorm Brock said, "You know what would help take my mind off the pain?"
"Finishing your Self-reflection Essay so you can turn in your Senior Portfolio, pass English, and graduate," James suggested.
"Hey, just because you're an overachiever and turned in your portfolio the second week of the semester doesn't mean the rest of us are slackers. That essay isn't due until Friday. So Chillax."
"I'm just remembering last semester when you had to pull an all-nighter to finish your psychology research paper. Then I missed all my morning classes editing it for you."
"Yeah, but I got an A on it," Brock said.
"Who got an A?"
"Okay, we got an A, and that just goes to show we make a good team," Brock said with a smile.
"Fine," James said, Here's the deal. You finish the first draft, and I'll look at it and see if it is worth a reward."
"Why do I suddenly feel like a rat in a Skinner Box pushing a button in the hope of a treat?" Brock asked.
James laughed and said, "So you did learn something in Psychology class. Remember, tonight is Game Cub and I have to be there early to set up, so you don't have any time to waste."
When they got back to the room, Brock gave James a quick kiss then grabbed his computer and got started. James sat down to read for AP English but soon got a text. He looked and it then said, "Philip Graves is sick and needs me to take his shift at the library. Will you be alright if I go?"
"Yeah," Brock said, "Take your computer so when I finish this damn essay I can email it to you to read."
"Don't just rush through it," James said. "There is no reward for anything but your best effort."
"Yes, master," Brock said with a smile.
Thirty minutes after James left the room, Brock was still staring at a blank computer screen. "Fuck it," Brock said and started typing.
Who are you? By Brock Chaplain
When we hear the question: Who are you, most of the time it is a request to identify ourselves. So, to answer the question: I am Brock Champlain. I am the son of Nelson and Florence Champlain. I am an 18-year-old, Catholic, white, male. I am a Mill Brook Preparatory School student, a soccer and lacrosse team captain, and a senior. On a superficial level, I can tell you exactly who I am; however, to honestly answer the question, I don't know. The best I can say is that I am Brock Champlain, and I am a work in progress.
It would have been much easier to write this essay last year because it would have been a work of fiction. I would have discussed my plans for a career in real estate or finance. How I would meet some nice Catholic girl at Fordham. That we'd marry and have lots of children and how the whole family would spend a week at the beach every summer. Yeah, I had my entire life planned out right down to the house in the suburbs and a golden retriever named Rufus. I was going to have the perfect Norman Rockwell life, and I was going to hate it.
As I said, I don't yet know who I am, but I sure as hell know who I'm not. I'm not Ward Cleaver, Mike Brady, Tim Taylor, Danny Tanner, Dan Connor, or any of the other TV dad types, not because I can't love or don't like kids, it's because I am gay. Earlier this year, an amazing friend--my boyfriend-- helped me accept that I am gay. Without James Pierce's love and the support of my longtime friend and teammate, Kip Sanders, I would most likely still be skulking in the closet, living in fear someone would find me.
The remarkable thing is that when I did finally come out, I found more acceptance than rejection. I know attitudes, particularly among young, educated people have changed, and homosexuality is no longer the scarlet letter it once was. However, I have been overwhelmed by the positive response of friends, teachers, teammates, and most of all my parents. I know that not every boy or girl who comes out has such luck, and I feel my fortune has also given me a responsibility to find a way to help kids who are not as lucky as I am. I don't know exactly how I will make a difference in the lives of gay kids facing prejudice and discrimination, poor kids facing hunger and hopelessness, or abused kids being bullied and neglected, all I know is that is what I am being called to do. As a result, I have decided not to study business or real estate at Fordham, but instead to major in Social Work and minor in Peace and Justice Studies.
So to answer the question, Who am I, I don't know. Maybe, I'm the man standing at the fork in the road in Robert Frost's "Road Not Taken."
I shall be telling this with a sigh Somewhere ages and ages hence: Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-- I took the one less travelled by, And that has made all the difference.
I hope by the time my 20-year Mill Brook class reunion rolls around, I will be far enough down that road to tell you who I am becoming.
--30--
Brock looked over his essay and then emailed it to James. Thirty minutes after hitting send, James came bursting into the room. Brock looked at his watch and asked, "Did someone take the last hour of your shift?"
"No, the library was dead, so I closed early. Besides, after reading your essay I was too riled up to reshelve books." Brock was lying in a beanbag and James dropped down astraddle his hips. Brock smiled and James couldn't resist kissing him. As they made out, James could feel Brock's cock beginning to stiffen in his thin athletic shorts. James took hold of the bulge in Brock's shorts and asked, "What have we here?"
Brock blushed a bit and said, "I'm not sure. I think I heard someone call it a boner. He said it's like a magic lamp. If you rub it, something magical will happen."
"Let's see," James said, and he started stroking Brock's cock through his athletic shorts. It wasn't long before Brock was moaning and squirming. Brock was so ready to cum, but James kept him on edge for twenty minutes, an eternity for a horny 18-year-old stud. Finally, James pulled Brock's athletic shorts down and his cock bounced free.
James leaned forward and kissed Brock's lips before giving the tip of his cock a kiss. Brock took a deep breath, and James started to swallow his cock. James was a five-star cock sucker and Brock had a fantastically suckable cock. Together they were the perfect pair. It didn't take long before James' mouth was flooded the second time that day.
James continued to milk Brock until Brock finally had to say "Stop" and pushed James off. "Damn, that was too good," Brock said. James kissed Brock, then stood up. "Where are you going?" Brock asked.
"I need to take a shower and brush my teeth before we head over to Game Club."
"But what about you?" Brock asked.
"I'll be fine," James said.
"I don't know," Brock said. "It makes me nervous when I'm not taking care of your needs. I get scared you might find someone else to pinch hit and he's better, and..."
James squatted and put a finger on Brock's lips to silence him. Then he said, "After we see the Doc tomorrow, we can decide what you're up for doing. Okay?"
"Okay," Brock said disappointedly. "But I feel like I'm taking advantage of you."
"If it makes you feel any better, I promise to take advantage of you when I'm sure you can take it."
Brock smiled and said, "Kinky. I like the sound of that."
That evening at Game Club, Brock ate James' share of pizza, and James drank Brock's share of beer. James and Brock both had a good time. In fact, James may have had too good of a time, and Brock had to have Kip's help getting James back to the room.
When they were finally in the room, they put James on the bed, and Brock asked, "Can you take his clothes off?"
"Damn boy, I would have thought you'd had enough experience taking James' clothes off you wouldn't need any help."
"Normally, yeah. But he decided to wear those skinny jeans, and with my side hurting like a son-of-a-bitch I can't get them off."
"Fine, you take your pain meds and I'll undress your boyfriend, but then I'm out of here before you ask me to do any other weird shit."
"Aw shucks, I was hoping you'd help me get ready for bed too, and then maybe a night-night story."
Brock rolled his eyes and said, "You're my brother from another mother, but reading bedtime stories to two naked and oversexed guys is where I have to draw the line. Plus, what would I read to you?"
Brock smiled and said, "Oh, how about Brockie and the ..."
"You can stop right there, Buster. I'm going to bed," Kip said, giving Brock a half-a-bro hug.
Brock looked at James who looked so peaceful. He then stripped off his clothes and climbed in next to James. Instinctively James cuddled up to Brock, who smiled and drifted off to sleep.
"Oh fuck," James moaned the next morning when the alarm went off. "Some asshole is playing the bongos in my head."
Brock laughed, and said, "You did kinda tied one on last night. Why don't you get in the shower, and I'll get you a couple of aspirin and a cup of coffee."
"Hey, I'm supposed to be taking care of you," James said weakly.
"I think this morning we're like that picture in the history book of those two wounded Civil War soldiers leaning on each other as they tried to leave the battlefield."
James rolled out of bed and walked into the bathroom. He was standing under the shower when Brock showed up with aspirin and two cups of coffee. He handed the aspirin to James on one of the cups of coffee.
James said, "The aspirin will help, but it's the nectar of life that I need most," and took a sip of coffee. Soon the extra big shower was a steam room. Brock set down his coffee and began to massage James' neck and shoulders.
"Aaah, that feels sooo good," James said.
"I can't believe I have such a hot, sexy stud for a boyfriend," Brock said.
James laughed and said, "Now you're trying to blow smoke up my ass."
"Why do you say that?"
"Come on, there are at least a dozen guys on the lacrosse team that are hotter than me."
"Not for me there isn't. You are my perfect type."
"What, skinny geek is your type?" James said.
"Now who's blowing smoke? Sure you may not be some muscled-up hulk, but you are sure not a weakling. You've got a great body and a gorgeous face."
"And?"
"Yes, you also have a monster cock," Brock said.... "At least that's what I remember. It's been so long since I've gotten to enjoy it I might just be imagining that."
James turned and kissed Brock then said, "Well it sure as hell remembers that tight jock ass of yours and can't wait to get back in it."
"So how about now?"
"Let's see what the Doc has to say and then go from there."
"Okay, but if he doesn't give me the answer I want, I am going to get a second opinion."
Since Brock's appointment was at 10, James called Michael and suggested they go out for breakfast. Michael was all in.
When they got into the SUV, Michael asked, "So James, have you recovered from your night of debauchery?"
"You know?" James asked.
"Yes, I know. That's my job.
"So where were you?" Brock asked.
"I have my locations. If you'd needed me, I would have been there before you knew you needed me."
"Like in Gran Canaria?" Brock said.
"Yep, just like that. Besides, it looked like you and Kip had James well in hand."
"Kip helped get me back to the room?" James asked.
"Yeah," Brock said, "and..."
"And, what?"
"Well, you had on those tight skinny jeans, and with my arm in this sling, I couldn't get them off," Brock said apologetically, and Michael couldn't help laughing.
When they got to the cafe, James made a beeline for the bathroom. After the coffee, Brock had been pushing James to drink water to counter the dehydration that comes with drinking too much alcohol."
"So how is your side," Michael asked Brock when they were seated.
"It definitely hurts if I bump it or twist it wrong. It hurt pretty bad yesterday when I took a deep breath, but this morning it's better. However, I'm glad my mother isn't around to see it. She'd freak. It looks like an overripe avocado."
"I know what you're talking about," Michael said. "I play on an adult men's hockey team back in New York, and I've taken, and given, my share of cheap shots. When some goon drives you into the boards, you feel it for a couple of days."
"I would have never taken you for a hockey player," Brock said.
"Why? You don't think I'm tough enough?"
"No," Brock said, "You have all your teeth."
Michael smiled and said, "What makes you think these are all originals?"
When James got back from the restroom, the conversation turned to the Summer in Europe.
"We'll spend most of our time in London, at least until we get rid of the Post reporter," James said. "Then we'll head over to Brussels to visit Brock's grandmother and the ambassador. Michael, is there any place you'd like to visit?"
"Well, my grandmother was Italian and she told me stories of growing up near Florence. So, I'd like to see Florence."
"We can easily do that," James said. He pointed at Brock and said, "The alter boy wants to go to Rome to see the Pope, so Italy is definitely on the itinerary. The other place that is definitely on the schedule is Frankfort, Germany the second week of July. The headquarters for Pierce International Europe is located in Frankfort, and Mom, Sydney, and I are scheduled to be there to meet the European executives."
After a bit more conversation, it was time to get to the clinic. Brock's appointment was with Dr. Mathers, a sports medicine specialist. Mathers was in his early forties and appeared to be in exceptional shape. From the memorabilia on the walls of his waiting room, it was apparent that he had been a high school and college athlete and currently competed in Iron Man races.
When Brock was called to go back to the exam room, he asked if James could come as well. The nurse looked at his chart and said, "You're 18, so if you want your friend to be there, that's your right."
After taking Brock's vitals, the nurse showed Brock and James to an exam room. When Dr. Mathers arrived he introduced himself. Then Brock said, "This is James Pierce. He is my roommate and friend, well boyfriend. He is also helping me with this injury."
Dr. Mathews looked at James and said, "It's always good to have someone willing to assist a patient recover from an injury."
James smiled and said, "Thanks."
"Well, Mr. Chaplain," Mathers continued, "I've looked at your X-rays and agree with the other physicians that you don't have any skeletal issues for us to worry about. Everything seems to be confined to the muscle tissue. So, go ahead and take off your shirt so I can see the injury."
Brock slipped off his shirt and James had to wince. The bruise seemed even more discolored under the exam room lights. "That's quite the bruise," Mathers said. "How does it feel?"
"Actually Doc, it looked worse than it feels. I think I could get back on the field with a couple of days' rest. I barely... AAAAGH, FUCK!" Brock screamed.
Mathers had caught Brock off guard with a poke to the ribs, then asked, "Now what was that you were about to say?"
"What happened to the Hippocratic Oath?" Brock asked.
"I don't know. It's probably in the same place as the expectation that patients shouldn't bullshit their doctors." James had to fight back a laugh. "So, let's start again, how does it feel?"
"That hurt a lot, but I still don't think it hurts as bad as it looks."
"Okay," Mathews said, "Take a couple of deep breaths." Mathews listened to Brock's chest. Then he said, "That's not bad. You're able to take good deep breaths, and I don't hear any fluid around your lungs. That's actually one of the worst consequences of this type of injury. Because it hurts to breathe, people don't take deep enough breaths to prevent fluid buildup. So good job."
"Thanks, so can I get back on the field?" Brock asked.
"No, we still need to give the bruise time to heal. I expect you will have a faster-than-normal recovery, but it will still take time."
"We play our biggest rivals and the hardest opponent on the schedule in 16 days. I need to be back in the game by then."
Mathers thought for a minute, then said, "That will really be pushing it. I won't promise anything, but I'll see you in two weeks and then decide whether or not to release you to play. In the meantime, no contact and no weights. Finish up the pain meds you were prescribed, then use over-the-counter ibuprofen. Also, keep up the ice treatments. You should rest today and tomorrow, then start jogging. Don't overdo it. In a week or so, we will see if you can do sprints and have the range of motion to take practice shots with your stick. Finally, you will need to invest in some high-quality rib protection. Can you do that?"
"Yes sir."
"Okay," Mathers said, "any other questions?"
Brock hesitated then finally asked, "What about sex?"
"Was your penis bruised as well?" Mathers asked, and Brock turned fifty shades of red.
Mathews then said with a smile, "It shouldn't hurt you. Just don't go crazy. Besides deep breathing is good pulmonary therapy."
Brock thanked Dr, Mathers and started out the door. As James was about to leave, Mathers said, "Take care of him, and don't let him do anything stupid?"
James smiled and said, "I'll try."
When the boys got back to their room, there was a note on the door that said, both of you are excused from classes," Mr. Gregg.
James thought it odd that he was excused from all his classes, along with Brock. However, the reason became clear when Michael walked in from parking the car. He'd gotten a phone call just as Brock and Michael got out of the SUV. Michael said that a photographer was caught lurking around campus. He'd been escorted off campus and told he'd be arrested for trespassing if he were caught on Mill Brooks campus again. "One of the tabloids is writing a trash piece on your mother and aunt," Michael said. "And they've offered $2000 to anyone who can get an unflattering photo of you to add to the image of family dysfunction."
"What kind of photo?" James asked.
"You know things like you kicking a dog, taking a piss on the statue of the school's first headmaster, or you being so stinking drunk it took two big lacrosse players to get you back to your dorm."
"Oh," James said sheepishly.
"Don't worry, no one had pictures of you leaving a party shitfaced,... well, leaving last night's party shitfaced. I have no idea what pictures might have snapped of you before I became your guardian angel."
James let out a sigh of relief and then said, "There might be pictures of me and a couple of buddies dressing the statue of the first headmaster in drag for Alumni Day."
"That was you!" Brock said. "That was one of the best pranks I've seen in a long time. The only better one was when that donkey walked onto the stage at this year's opening convocation dressed in cap and gown, took a shit on the stage, then walked off. The look on Headmaster Gates' face was priceless."
"We didn't know it was going to take a dump," James said.
"You were part of that?! Wow, that was epic," Brock said and raised his hand to high-five James.
"My orders are to see the two of you stay out of the public eye until your mother and aunt's people figure out what's going on. So you don't leave this building without first contacting me. Got it."
"Yes, sir," James and Brock said.
When the door closed behind them. James couldn't help but notice the wolfish grin on Brock's face.
"What?" James asked.
"You heard the Doc, sex is good pulmonary therapy. You wouldn't want me to get pneumonia would you?" Brock said.
"I'm pretty sure he was just being sarcastic."
"Don't know about that. He sounded pretty serious to me. But, it's always good to be safe rather than sorry." In a flash, Brock was naked and on all fours on the bed. James was too horny to think of an excuse not to fuck that sweet hole and soon he was buck naked with his tongue teasing Brock's tight pucker.
"Oooooh fuuuuuuck, I've needed that so bad.," Brock moaned, and it wasn't long before his cock was hard and dripping pre on the bed.
Brock wasn't in the mood for a lot of foreplay. He was ready to get to the main event, and finally, he ask, "When the hell are you going to start fucking me?"
Alright, alright, but promise me you'll tell me if it hurts too much."
"Aren't you just full of yourself? You're big, but not that big."
James gave Brock's right butt cheek a hard slap, which elicited a sharp yelp. "You know what I mean," James said.
"Yeah, yeah. I'll keep you posted on what the pain-o-meter is registering. You focus on pushing my pleasure button. I need at least 700 units of prescription-strength HO2. Oxytocin is one of the hormones produced during sex and the amount produced has been linked to the intensity of the orgasm. While learning about the brain's pleasure and pain centers in psychology, the boys started describing their orgasms in units of HO2 (Hella Orgasmic Oxytocin).
James doubted Brock would stop things of it was hurting too badly. Brock was the kind of guy that would grit it out. However, Brock was on a mission and it was useless for James to do argue with him. So, he decided it was just time to try for the elusive XHO2 (Extreme Hella Orgasmic Oxytocin).
Brock groaned deeply and loudly when James began to slide his cock into him. It was good that, except for Michael, the dorm was empty. James pulled every trick he had out of his sexual bag of tricks, and when Brock finally came, it was seismic. If it wasn't the XH2O of song and legend, it was damn close. However, James didn't have time for scientific analysis, because as soon as Brock's orgasm began to subside, James' orgasm crashed over him like storm waves on a rocky shore. The orgasms of two healthy, 18-year-old, athletic studs could rival the power of a hurricane, earthquake, or any other force Mother Nature had in her quiver.
Brock had just fallen asleep for an afternoon nap, and James was getting ready to cuddle up and do the same when his phone vibrated. He looked at the number and saw that it was Nelson Champlain. James figured he was calling to see how Brock's appointment with the doctor went. James decided to walk into the bathroom before answering the call.
James told Nelson what the doctor said, and that there was a chance Brock would return to playing earlier than expected. Nelson said, "Well, the boy is tough. I'll give him that. If I didn't know better, I would say he was built on a Detroit assembly line rather than born in a hospital."
James chuckled and said, "Yeah, he is Ram Tough."
"More like Jackass Tough," Nelson said. "Well, I'd better break the bad news to his mother. I think she was secretly hoping that he was done with lacrosse."
After they said their goodbyes, James went back into the room and crawled into bed.
"Who was that? Brock asked sleepily.
"Your father," James replied.
"What did you tell him?"
"I said he had a candy-ass for a son."
"That's nice. I'm glad you think my ass is sweet."
James laughed, cuddled up with Brock, and soon the two were sound asleep.
I hope you enjoy "Exposed."
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