Hamlet

This story contains acts of a sexual nature between two consenting males. If this offends you, please leave this page now.

As always, comments and suggestions are extremely welcome!

Hamlet

It was Saturday, and the school was empty as I walked down the hallway. Most of the lights were off; the place was empty, except for the cast of "Hamlet," which was building the show's set in the auditorium, just like every other pre-show Saturday. I didn't mind--working on the set was something fun to do on slow weekend afternoons. I got to hang out with friends and use power tools; what more could I want?

I reached the auditorium and greeted our director, Brady; she was short and fat and treated life like it was a Shakespearean tragedy. She told me to head on into the guys' dressing room and help Ben pick out paint for Gertrude's closet. He and I were to spend most of the day working on and, hopefully, finishing that particular piece of set. I followed her instructions and met Ben in the dressing room, which was connected to a hallway on stage left, right next to the girls' dressing room. He was staring at the tall cabinet filled with every imaginable type of cheap paint that took up the right wall of the room when I entered.

"Have you found the paint Brady wanted yet?" I asked.

"Nah," Ben replied, sounding slightly exasperated. "I've shown her, like, four different shades of green already. We might have to mix our own."

The drama program at our school was not the stereotypical drama program, filled with effeminate boys and melodramatic girls, and Ben and I were prime examples of that. Ben was short but well-built, with long, curly, brown hair. A wrestler and a runner, he was completely masculine. I was 6'2" with short, blonde hair and a constant five-o'-clock shadow. A soccer player and a good student, I was just as far from the stereotypical drama nerd as Ben was.

"Ah, fuck it," Ben said, grabbing two different shades of green. "Let's just mix these two and start painting before Brady can tell us the color's wrong."

I laughed and said, "Sounds good to me."

Ben and I carried the paints, as well as a mixing pan and paint rollers, behind the stage and into a side hallway, where the piece we would be painting was ready and waiting. The hallway was empty except for Ben and I; there were so few actors and so many things to do, it wasn't uncommon for kids to break up into small groups of two or three and not see anyone else for the rest of the day. I liked this setup--it allowed me to get to know my fellow cast members better. I was already good friends with Ben, however; he'd been in every play I had. He was a senior this year, and I was a junior, so we'd had years to get to know each other.

We cracked open the paint cans and poured some of each color into the mixing pan, stirring them together. Once they'd been satisfactorily blended into a single shade of green, we each dipped a roller in and went to work covering the set piece in green.

"So, how do you think the show's going?" I asked Ben.

"Eh, it's going okay," he replied. "I mean, everyone's doing pretty well, but it's getting kinda late for people to still be reading off of their scripts, you know what I mean?"

"Yeah, I totally agree," I said, standing on a stool and reaching as high as I could to cover the uppermost part of Gertrude's wall. "Do you have your lines memorized yet?

"Of course I do," Ben said in a mock-conceited voice. He knelt down to paint the bottom-left corner of the wall and asked, "How about you?"

"Yeah, I've had them down ever since--" I began, and then was cut short as I leaned to far. I crashed down from the stool and stepped on the edge of the paint pan, splattering paint everywhere. Luckily, the paint didn't splash on the set piece we were working on. Unluckily, it did splash all over Ben and I, covering us from head to foot.

"Fuck!" Ben exclaimed, standing up and wiping paint off of his face.

"Oh shit, I'm so sorry man, I was just trying to get to the corner by leaning over you," I said, beating myself up for being so careless.

Ben looked at his clothes, was silent for a moment, then began to laugh. He looked up at me, still laughing. I couldn't help laughing, too; he looked ridiculous.

"Come on, let's go try and get cleaned up," Ben said. "If we rinse our clothes while the paint is still wet, maybe we can get it all out."

I followed Ben a short way down the hallway to the boys' bathroom, then followed him inside. We headed straight for the sinks; they were near the door on the right. After the sinks, urinals lined the right wall and stalls the left. Large mirrors sat on the wall above each of the two sinks.

"Ok, man, we should get our clothes under some water right away," Ben said. "No one's gonna come in here, right? I think we might be the only guys here today."

"Um, yeah, I guess," I said, confused. "Why does that matter?"

"Because we're gonna have to take our clothes off to get them in the sink, dumbass," he said jokingly as he slipped his flip-flops off and began to peel off his shirt. "Here, you take that one, and I'll take this one," he said, indicating the two sinks.

"Oh, duh," I said, and walked to the nearest sink. I turned on the faucet and glanced over at Ben. Even though we'd been in numerous plays together, I'd somehow managed never to have a costume change at the same time as him, so I'd never seen him less than fully clothed. Now that I was seeing him strip, I couldn't seem to stop staring at his body. I'd never thought of myself as gay, but I found myself wanting to wash the paint off of Ben just so I could run my hands over his perfect chest. He had muscular pecs topped by pert, pink nipples, and a smooth, chiseled stomach. I even noticed his arms for the first time; they were so strong and masculine, ending in big, rough hands. He bent over to slide his shorts to the ground, and I found myself admiring his thick calves and thighs as well. I could see the outline of his as through the thin layer of cotton that was his plaid boxers; it looked firm and tight, sticking out slightly from the rest of his body. I had seen plenty of naked guys before--I was, after all, on the soccer team--but none had ever aroused me like this; my cock was definitely starting to grow a bit. I was so enchanted by Ben's body that I didn't even notice that there was no water running from the faucet in front of me. I was only snapped back to reality when Ben looked up at me and spoke.

"Hey, I think your sink's busted," he said. I tried toggling both handles back and forth, but nothing came out. "Here, we can just share this one. You'd better get those shorts off, though, or you won't get that paint out. Your shirt, too."

I nodded, still somewhat in a daze from seeing Ben nearly naked, and moved over next to Ben. As I pulled my paint-soaked shirt over my head, my arm brushed against Ben's bare chest, sending tingles through my body. I held my shirt under the running water, shoulder to shoulder with Ben, trying to concentrate on washing the paint out. Remembering that I was still wearing my shorts and that with every second, the paint was settling deeper into my clothing, I unbuttoned and unzipped my shorts. I glanced at Ben; I definitely did not want him to know that I'd gotten wood from looking at him. He was intent on working the paint out of his shirt and shorts, though, so I tried to quickly slide my shorts to the floor without drawing any attention from Ben.

That didn't work out so well; as I was pulling my shorts down, my elbow somehow ended up in Ben's crotch. It didn't just graze the fabric, either--my arm rubbed pretty firmly down the whole length of his cock. Ben jumped; the touch hadn't been hard enough to hurt, but it had definitely gotten his attention. He looked over at me just as my cock reached full mast, seriously tenting my boxers; the feel of Ben's soft dick on my arm had sent me over the edge.

"What are doing, man?" Ben asked, laughing a little. "Trying to feel me up?"

I laughed, too, and said, "Sorry, I was just takin' my shorts off." I held them up as if they would prove that I hadn't touched him on purpose.

He glanced down at my tenting boxers, but ignored them. He just smiled and said, "Well, you've gotta be careful with that, bro--you could've done some serious damage if you'd hit any harder."

After that, we both just went back to washing our clothes. I was surprised that he hadn't made a crack about my boner--most high school guys would have. The fact that he was a friend of mine didn't explain it--in fact, I would've expected him to be more mocking for that reason. I couldn't figure it out.

As I was contemplating this, I accidentally dropped my shirt out of the sink. As I crouched down to pick it up, my face came to the level of Ben's bulging, boxer-clad crotch. I stole a quick peek and noticed that Ben had quite a sizable package--he filled out his boxers well. I also noticed that there was green paint just to the left of the fly.

"Hey, I think some paint soaked through your shorts and into your boxers," I said, straightening up.

Ben looked down at his crotch and said, "Oh, shit. Now I'm gonna have to wash those, too."

I gulped; Ben was about to get completely naked in front of me. I already had a raging hard-on; I would lose all self control if I caught a glimpse of his bare cock. I would end up having to wash something other than paint off of my boxers.

As I was worrying, Ben was hooking his thumbs into his thumbs into the waistband of his boxers. Then he stopped. "I think you have some paint on yours, too," he said.

I glanced down at my boxers; I was trying to make the tent less conspicuous by sandwiching it between my body and the sink. Despite this, my boxers were bulging more than normal, and a big splotch of green was visible just under the waistband. I gulped again; not only was Ben about to be completely naked and standing close enough for me to touch, I was going to be completely naked, too.

As I prepared to take off my last piece of clothing, I looked back at Ben. As I watched, he slid his boxers to the floor. My eyes followed his hands, drinking in the strong musculature of his legs. Finally, I looked back at his package, now unfettered by clothing, and realized why he hadn't made fun of my boner earlier: he was hard, too.

He wasn't rock hard, like I was, but he was getting there. And his cock was just as beautiful as the rest of his body. It wasn't unusually long, but it was relatively thick and perfectly shaped. His pink head topped a smooth shaft, and below the shaft hung a juicy set of hairless balls. He had a small patch of neatly trimmed pubes above his package. My own member throbbed with lust.

And then it was my turn to strip. I unpinned my boner and slipped my boxers off as quickly as possible, tossing them in the sink with the rest of our clothes. I looked back at Ben; he was staring at my throbbing hard-on. I was slightly longer than him but about as thick, with a large set of balls below and a neat patch of pubes above.

"Damn, dude, you're big," he said appreciatively.

I chuckled nervously and said, "You're not so bad yourself." Then, jokingly, "I'm still bigger, though."

"Whoah, whoah, whoah," Ben said, playing along. "I'm not totally hard. And obviously, you are." He nodded at my crotch.

"Well, let's give it a few seconds, and then we can compare," I said, still joking and staring at Ben's meat. Even as I was saying this, his cock obviously reached its full length, standing perpendicular to his body.

"Ok, let's go, man," Ben said, and aimed his cock at me. Not sure of what to do, I faced him as well.

Suddenly, Ben reached out and grabbed my dick, pulling me toward him. I almost collapsed as pleasure shot through my cock and then through my body. Ben almost laughed at this, but contained himself.

"Since we don't have any rulers--" Ben began, then trailed off as he lined his hard cock up next to mine. Soon, our members were side by side, skin to skin. It was obvious that I was a little longer then Ben, but I didn't care--I was reveling in the feel of his soft, warm meat on mine, his big, rough hand holding our cocks.

"I guess you do have met beat," Ben said, still gripping our dicks. He looked at my face, and I must have been unable to hide how much I was enjoying just the feel of his hand and cock on me. He smiled and said, "You like that?"

I began to shrug, preparing to say something witty, when Ben slid his manly hand up our shafts. The feelings that pulsed through me were indescribable, and it was all I could do to moan and nod. Ben smiled again and continued to slide his up and down our rods, rubbing them against each other in the process. I was in heaven--I had never felt anything so indescribably amazing.

As I was lost in waves of pleasure, Ben asked, "Have you ever done anything like this before?"

I managed to say, "No." Then, my curiosity piqued, I asked, "Have you?"

Ben ignored my question and asked, "Do you like it?"

All I could say was, "Yes."

Ben stopped rubbing us and let go of our cocks. "What's wrong?" I asked.

Again, Ben ignored my question. Instead of answering, he slowly knelt down on the floor and grasped the base of my painfully hard rod. He looked up at my face and grinned, as if asking permission. I just rested my hand on the back of his head.

That was all the permission he needed. My dick was soon engulfed in in warm wetness. The feeling of insurmountable ecstasy I'd felt earlier was nothing compared to what I now felt. Ben's tongue swirled around my head and his warm lips slid up and down my shaft--it was obvious he'd done this before. I held onto Ben's head for support, twining my fingers in his hair. I found myself gently guiding his head with my hand, too--not that he needed much guidance. I felt Ben's hands roaming over my body: my taught thighs, my flat stomach, even occasionally my hard nipples.

As I felt the beginnings of an unbelievable orgasm, Ben pulled his head off of my cock and stood up. Seeing the question in my eyes, he said, "Trust me, this is gonna be just as hot." Then, Ben pulled his tight body close to mine, sandwiching our meat together between our flat stomachs. He ground his hips into me, rubbing our rods together and sending waves of pleasure washing through me. I mimicked his motions, doubling the pleasure. I had never been this aroused in my life; the feel of Ben's dick on mine, his warm, muscular body pressing against me, his rough hands now gripping and squeezing my ass, and the sexy, satisfied grin on Ben's face all had me unbearably horny.

Soon, I couldn't take it anymore and said, "Dude, I'm gonna bust."

"Do it, man," he said. "Shoot all over us."

And I did just that. My balls tightened and my dick spasmed, shooting load after load of thick, sticky jizz between us. I felt Ben's cock contract, too, and soon his sperm was mingling with mine, coating both of our stomachs and rods. The pleasure was immeasurable and seemed to last forever. Finally, though, my intense orgasm subsided, and I stayed pressed against Ben as he finished unloading his balls.

When Ben was finished, we pulled apart. Our cocks were completely coated in cum, as were our stomachs. "Well, at least we're in the bathroom," Ben said with a grin. "Easy cleanup."

I just laughed and grabbed some paper towel.