Geeks Get Hot

By Mr Skinny

Published on Sep 19, 2010

Gay

Disclaimer:

The following piece of fiction contains explicit descriptions of sexual acts between consenting adult males aged over the age of 18. Please do not read further if the subject matter might offend you. If you are aged under 18 (or 21 if that is the law in your state or country) please leave this site without reading further.

Note from Author:

This part of the story is told by Anthony. At some point in the future, I plan to completely retell the story from Brad's point of view.

Geeks Get Hot (part 6) -- Anthony

The sound of Brad's alarm clock shrieked piercingly, jolting me awake, and prematurely ending a delicious dream involving all four members of McFly and a bottle of massage oil. I heard rather than saw Brad reach an arm out and hit the button to silence the beeping, my vision still fuzzy from not having put my glasses on yet. I yawned and wiped the sleep from my eyes, feeling my ever-present morning hardon twitching inside my underwear as I stretched.

I remembered now we had agreed to set the alarm for 7.30 every morning in readiness for our classes. My mind strayed back to the previous night. After the meal with the others on our dorm corridor, we had gone to a bar for a drink, then they had carried on to a nightclub, but Brad and I had decided to call it a night, neither of us fancying staying out too late. I got the feeling Brad was still adjusting to living away from home for the first time, and when it comes to drinking and dancing, I'm not the world's biggest party animal.

We had been walking away from the centre of the city, back towards the university campus, when we had passed a small group of boys waiting at a bus-stop. As they had noticed us approaching, they had started laughing and nudging each other. I'd recognised the warning signs, and quickened my walking pace to be past them as soon as possible. As we'd come alongside them, we'd both lowered our heads and tried to close our ears to their catcalls and jeers.

"Hey, check out the geeks!"

"Dudes do you even own a mirror? Have you seen what you look like?!"

Brad had stumbled into the side of me as one of them jostled against his shoulder.

"Whoa you're so skinny I'm surprised the wind doesn't blow you over!"

"Don't trip dude"

"Careful, they're probably hurrying to have time to jack-off to an episode of `Star Trek' before bed. Don't want to hold them up"

"What a pair of dorks!"

I had successfully (I'd like to think skilfully!) avoided the leg that was stuck-out in an attempt to trip me up (these people are so predictable!). Gradually, we'd left them behind and their laughing and teasing had faded away. Neither of us had said anything, just walked in silence for a few blocks (see -- getting more States-like by the day!)

I'd felt really shit -- no other word can do the emotion justice! My good mood of the whole of the day had vanished completely, destroyed by the insensitive observations of the ignorants who had goaded us. A feeling of total worthlessness had washed over me. It had been a while since I had endured such an unprovoked verbal attack as that and I had forgotten how much it affected me to have stuff like that shouted at me. At school it had been an almost daily occurrence, but since going to university and being surrounded by more open-minded and mature, intelligent people, I hadn't often had to experience the humiliation of being tormented for the way I look. I'm the first to admit I'm not an Adonis, and I don't care that much about my hairstyle or the clothes I wear (yup, I'm definitely no gay stereotype!) but I've never understood why total strangers feel the need to point this out for their own enjoyment.

Brad had broken the silence by sniffing and saying "sorry you had to witness that."

"what?" He'd confused me.

"Those assholes making fun of me." He'd sniffed again and I'd turned to look at him. Was that a tear running down his cheek? I'd pretended not to notice.

"It wasn't just you they were making fun of," I'd said, squeezing his shoulder in a gesture of geekly solidarity.

"I bet if you hadn't been walking with me they wouldn't have said any of that stuff to you"

"I'm not so sure. That's nowhere near the first time something like that's happened to me. People at my school were always taking the piss out of me. It's something that's always happened and probably always will happen. After all, wherever you go there's always going to be twats who have to make themselves feel big by taking the piss out of people cleverer than them. The price we pay for wearing glasses and daring to look like we can successfully count without using our fingers!" I'd tried to make a joke out of it, but my heart hadn't really been in it.

Brad had half-chuckled at my attempt at humour.

"It hasn't seemed to affect you though Anthony. You're not the one blubbing like a big girl."

"It does affect me. It always affects me. Words cut deep. Whoever said "stick and stones can break my bones but names will never hurt me" was talking absolute bollocks. I suppose it's just happened so often I'm used to it now and have learned not to show it has upset me."

That much was true. If I ever plucked up the courage to come out, I'd have a headstart on not letting homophobic remarks appear to affect me too much. Hah! If I ever plucked up the courage. I was almost tempted not to, it would just give people one more thing to tease me about.

We'd continued our journey in silence, probably both of us thinking about what had happened. I'd been wondering to myself how much Brad and I actually had in common in terms of being bullied at school for being so-called geeks' or nerds' or `squares' or whatever the current term of insult was.

Lying in my bed, I wondered it again to myself as I slid my glasses on and looked over to my roommate. He had put his own glasses on and was looking at me. I quickly checked my bedclothes were covering any signs of my morning wood. Yes, they were, that was a relief, although I don't know why I was worrying, chances are Brad was sporting an equally throbbing erection under his covers as well.

"Hey," he said. I made some sort of verbal sounds, vaguely communicating that I was still half-asleep, which I was (I'm not a morning person, as Brad had come to recognise!) I lazily stretched again, then reached down to readjust my dick to a more comfortable angle in my underwear.

Brad sat himself up and threw off his bedcovers. He was wearing just blue briefs. I couldn't help noticing (maybe a little disappointedly) that there was no sign of any morning wood, but maybe his had gone down quickly, whereas mine was still raging, hard as ever.

This was the first morning Brad and I had woken up at the same time. Usually, I had awoken to find him already awake, washed and dressed, and working or surfing at his computer, so had never before observed his early morning routine. I was surprised to learn that it involved exercises!

As I sleepily watched, Brad dropped to the floor and began performing press-ups. I watched in something akin to amazement (and respect) as he easily managed 25 without stopping, keeping a steady rhythm, then forced himself to finish a further 5, obviously struggling a little with these, his breathing heavy and his face reddening, beads of sweat forming on his shoulders. The sight of his tight arse encased in his blue briefs moving up and down from mid-air to the floor as he did his press-ups did little to alleviate my morning wood. If anything, it made me even harder. What can I say? I'm a horny bugger!

Finishing his press-ups, he rolled over onto his back and started doing sit-ups. Again I marvelled at how easily he was managing them. It explained his faint muscle definition. If he kept this up every morning, his skinny frame would soon end up being pretty ripped, and without his glasses, he would resemble the sort of body that I found a serious turn-on. Distracted by the sight of his bulge, which even in its flaccid state, threatened to burst out of his briefs, I tried to move my eyes off his body, but failed miserably. As my gaze scanned him, I noticed he had writing on his foot.

Strange. Was it writing or...no, actually it must be some sort of tattoo. I didn't remember having seen it before, but it obviously wasn't new. Was this the first time I'd seen Brad barefoot? Actually, now I came to think about it, it probably was.

Brad didn't strike me as the type of person to have a tattoo, and I wondered how he had mastered the courage to get one (imagine the pain! Shudder!) From the angle I was looking at, it just looked like a string of numbers to me, inked onto the top of his foot, the black standing out strikingly against his pale skin.

Having completed his sit-ups (about 50 at a guess) Brad collapsed panting on his back on the floor. I felt compelled to say something.

"Whoa -- impressive mate! Looks like I'll be rooming with a muscle-god by Christmas if that's your usual morning routine!"

Still catching his breath, too tired to reply to my joke, he raised his middle finger up at me.

"No, I'm serious. Well, sort of! You're already getting definition in your abs and arms. Don't bulk up too much or you'll give me an inferiority complex! Okay, okay, I'm joking, don't look at me like that! Seriously though I am impressed. I doubt I'd even manage one press-up, let alone thirty!"

Brad blushed a little, and he finally had enough breath to answer me.

"My doctor said I might feel a bit more confident in myself if I exercised and filled out a little. It was hard to start off with, but it's quite rewarding now, even if I know I'm never going to look like a Jock, at least I know I'm not a complete weakling. You should try it sometime. When you're thin, your muscles start showing through real quick."

"Hmm maybe I will try it, but it would have to be a last thing at night thing for me -- you know I'm no good in the mornings!"

He laughed at that, and got to his feet. Speaking of which...

"Brad, is that a tattoo you've got on your foot?"

He looked down, as if seeing it for the first time, and his face reddened again.

"Um yes, yes it is."

"Wow! Bet it was painful getting it there. What's it of? Please don't tell me it's your credit card PIN in case you ever forget it!"

He swallowed a few times, and kind of hesitated before answering me.

"It's just a...a date that's um important to me" he eventually stuttered. I turned my head upside down to look at it. 10-29-07. Oh yes, I remember now, in the States you write the month before the day, so that must mean the 29th October 2007. Or maybe 1907 or 1807 or...you get the idea!

I was going to ask Brad something else about it, but he had turned away and was busying himself with collecting up his washbag and towel.

"Do you think the bathroom will be busy? I'm still a little nervous about having to shower with lots of people around."

"It's still quite early," I said. "I expect lots of people will still be in bed."

"That's good. I'm going for my wash then. Coming? Or are you still not awake yet?"

I surreptitiously prodded my crotch under my bedclothes. I was no longer hard now, my morning wood having subsided while I'd thought about what Brad's tattoo might signify.

"Yes, I'll come too. Anything to stop your nagging about my laziness. Sometimes I do actually wonder if you're a clone of my mother!"

Getting out of bed, I pulled on my dressing gown and grabbed my towel and washbag. Then we made our way to our floor's communal bathroom. As it turned out, it wasn't as quiet as I had been expecting. What is it with these students? In the UK we fall out of bed at three in the afternoon, but here it was before 8am and there were two shower cubicles occupied and another two lads standing shaving. Brad joined them at the sinks, getting his own shaving stuff out. I had had a shave yesterday and didn't need another one yet, so I made my way to the showers.

Standing under the hot jet of water I felt myself beginning to wake up, and started whistling as I lathered my body up. I suddenly stopped, as I realised I had begun to whistle the tune of `It's Raining Men'! -- not a song you'd normally expect to hear being whistled in a male-only bathroom on a morning. Hopefully my whistling was too tuneless for anyone to have been able to tell!

As I turned my shower off and grabbed my towel from off the hook on the cubicle door to start drying myself, I thought I heard more whistling. Or was it whistling? Maybe it was my imagination, but under cover of the flowing water from the next cubicle, I thought I could hear some little moans of pleasure. My cock started to rise as my mind filled in the gaps of what the next occupant was probably doing, and I remembered I hadn't taken care of my morning wood that morning like I usually do.

I was severely tempted to let my cock rise to its full length and satisfy my sexual needs, but now I'd turned the shower off, I thought it might look a bit funny if I took a while to leave the cubicle, and the voices in the bathroom outside the cubicle didn't really help the mood. I wrapped the towel around my waist, cunningly disguising my semi via a clever positioning of my bottles of shower gel and shampoo as I carried them, and made my way back to the dorm room.

Brad was already in there dressing when I entered, and I went about putting on my deodorant and clothes, the awkwardness of the previous few mornings of being naked in front of my roommate almost a distant memory. It was amazing how soon I had got used to it. I suppose you do when there's no escaping something.

The rest of the day passed in a blur, and before I knew it, I was stripping off in front of Brad again, this time getting ready for bed. I took my glasses off and put them down on my bedside table, then got into bed pulling my covers up over me. Brad had got into his own bed and was sitting up reading.

As I rolled over settling into a more comfortable position, I felt one of my balls stick against the top of my thigh. I reached into my white boxerbriefs to readjust my bits. They were warm and a little sweaty after the busy day. I left my hand in my underwear and absentmindedly stroked my balls. I felt my cock hardening and once again remembered that I hadn't had the chance to wank yet today. All of a sudden I was feeling incredibly horny. All I could think of doing was tearing off my underwear, grabbing my erection tightly in my fist and wanking myself for all I was worth.

I was fully hard now and could feel a drop of precum forming, feeling it soaking into the material of my boxerbriefs. It took all my willpower to stop my hand taking hold of my shaft and doing what I longed to do, but with Brad in the room reading and the lights still on, I knew I had to control myself.

I decided to recite my times tables in my head to try and take my mind off my cock. I had just got up to 10 x 2 = 20, (no luck on the losing my erection front so far) when Brad swung his legs out of bed and whispered over to me "just going for a leak. I'll switch the light out when I get back" then padded over to the door and let himself out.

Oh yes, my prayers had been answered! Thank you God for this opportunity to relieve my build-up of tension!

I pulled down my boxerbriefs and grasped my shaft. I knew I had to be quick as Brad wouldn't be gone long, and I had to wank, cum, and mop up the evidence before he got back. My cock was so hard in my hand. Precum dripped out of my piss-slit making my foreskin roll backwards and forwards over my head easily and smoothly.

Fuck! Wanking felt so good!

I quickened my stroking, a moan flying uncontrollably from my lips as I felt the familiar build-up. It wouldn't be long now. Just a few more strokes to go and then...

The door handle turned and then the door opened. My hand flew off my cock leaving my cock wet and bouncing beneath my bedclothes. I laid my head on my pillow and turned my face to the wall, trying my best to disguise the fact I was flushed and breathing heavily.

Fuck. If only Brad had been 30 seconds longer. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I so badly need to cum.

Oblivious to my frustration (at least I hoped he was oblivious!) Brad switched off the lights and got into his own bed, calling over "good night, sleep well" to me.

I could feel my rock hard cock twitching and quivering impatiently, a drop of precum spilling over and running slowly down the length of my shaft.

Fuck I really need to cum.

Did I dare finish myself off with Brad lying on the other side of the room trying to get to sleep?

Slowly, quietly, I stretched my hand down towards my throbbing member. I heard Brad turn over in his bed.

No, this is too weird with him being definitely awake.

I resolved to wait until I was sure he was asleep before finishing and shooting my load. It would be a struggle to hang on that long, but self-discipline was character-building or some such bollocks.

I lay still and quiet for what seemed like a decade, my hardon pressed into my mattress, aching for its final release. In reality, it was probably only about fifteen minutes. On the other side of the room, I heard Brad fidgeting in his bed.

Bloody hurry up and fall asleep Brad!

I heard the drawer of Brad's bedside table being slowly and quietly slid open.

Don't tell me he's getting his book out to read again. At this rate it'll be dawn and I'll still be lying here with a hardon waiting to cum!

I listened for the crackle of paper, the sound of book pages being turned, but instead a very different sound came floating over. A wet slapping sound, like a brush being slid in and out of a tin of paint, or a dolphin jumping in and out of a pool, or a... or a...

"Mmmmm" I heard Brad moan softly to himself. "Mmmmm, oh, oh, mmmmm"

Or a lubed-up hand sliding up and down a slippery cock!

This was just great! Here I was with a raging hardon desperate to be put out of its misery, having been aching to blow my load for the last fuck knows how long, and my roommate was the one wanking! Just typical!

Well, if he can, why can't I?!

Slowly, quietly, hardly daring to breathe, I moved my hand down to my rock hard dick. My index finger found the sensitive spot at the back of my head and gently began tickling it.

Fuck yes, that feels good.

"Mmmmmm" Brad moaned, a little louder now, obviously confident that I was asleep.

I circled my hand round the rim of my head, and gently started wanking, my movements slight so my bedclothes wouldn't move or rustle, but enough so that it still felt fucking amazing. I bit down on my bottom lip to stop myself making a sound. I could hardly believe I was wanking with my roommate still awake and wanking himself on the other side of the room, completely oblivious to what I was doing.

Hearing the little sighs and moans he kept making was turning me on big time. My cockhead was so wet with precum, and so hard it felt like it was made of cast iron. I wanted to wank hard and fast, scream with pleasure and cum forcefully and loudly, but I kept myself slow and quiet, not wanting Brad to be aware that I was still awake, and, let's face it, had joined in with his private late night actions.

"Oh oh oh Oh! Oh!" Brad was suddenly whimpering.

"Mmmmmmm" he let out, almost uncontrollably, followed by another more satisfied "mmmmmm".

This tipped me completely over the edge, he really did sound so hot when he came. Under cover of the sounds of the tail-end of Brad's orgasm, I sped my stroking up and soon I felt volley after volley of warm sticky cum flying out of the end of my cock. I buried my face deep into my pillow, muffling my own gasps and sighs of intense pleasure, but by now so caught up in my own orgasm that I couldn't care less whether or not Brad overheard me.

Wow, that felt so good!

I wasn't sure if it felt so good because of how long I'd been waiting for release, or because I'd just heard someone else in the same room as me cum themselves. Probably a combination of the two.

The sweet smell of cum drifted up to my nostrils, and I wondered briefly if it was just my own I could smell, or whether the scent of Brad's was wafting over to me from the other side of the room.

My hand, wet and sticky with cum gave my softening cock a final stroke as I felt the first waves of sleep washing over me, and I fell asleep still clutching myself.

Next: Chapter 7: Geeks Get Hot 7 Anthony


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