Chapter 13 -- Part I
From Billy's viewpoint
I must have been high on cum when I left Justin's house Saturday night. I'm not even sure how many times I came while I was there. I came the first time when we reloaded my old jeans . . . no, we didn't do that first. That's right, Justin stroked me good and then blew me. Oh my god was that fucking great. I thought I'd never stop cumming. Fuck, I didn't want to ever stop cumming.
Then what? Oh, yeah. Then I came on him and jerked him off. That was kind of cool, too. Another great cum! Justin came a lot more than me. Fuck, that guy can shoot a long way. His cum really flies! Thick ropey strings of cum. And it tastes so good. Smooth and warm on the tongue. And it smells like some kind of fruit. Not peaches. Not like mine. Like some kind of fruit drink. Yum!
And then we refilled the jeans. God, I was fucking wasted. Strung out on cum. Driving home I hardly knew where I was, wearing those cum-soaked old jeans and feeling like I was stoned. Cum stoned.
As I drove, I'd opened the fly so I could reach in and get some cum on my hands . . . My cum and Justin's cum. Like fucking fruit cocktail. And as I drove I was just eating our cum out of my crotch. It seemed so cool. I was like dreaming. Reliving all the sex Justin and I had just had. How we'd helped each other get off. And how great the cum tasted. I was starting to understand why Jess was so hooked on the stuff. It could easily become addictive.
When I got home, I was relieved to find my parents gone. That saved me the problem of having to explain why I was wearing an old pair of cum-drench jeans and had a pretty good start on another major boner. Fuck, the way I felt at that point, I probably would have pulled a Jess if they'd been there.
"What's that all over your pants, Billy? Is that a flashlight in your pocket?"
"No, Mom," I could imagine myself saying. "That's what's left of all the fucking cum that my new friend Justin and I just pumped from our big hard cocks. We ate most of it, but left enough so that I could wear these cool cummed-up jeans to bed tonight and dream of more hot fucking man-on-man sex. Oh, a flashlight? No, Mom. Your favorite son has a big old boner. Where do you think the cum comes from?"
But they weren't there and so instead I went up to my room and flung myself on my back on my bed. After a few minutes, I rolled over so I could rub my crotch against the mattress. Then I got on my hands and knees and started to smell the sheets. They hadn't been washed in more than a week, so they probably had as much cum soaked in them as Billy and I had loaded in these jeans that night.
I was fucking out of my mind. If you can be hopped up on sex, I was.
I lay down again, crotch against my mattress and tried to get my mind under control. What was I doing? It felt great, but it . . . God, it fucking had felt great, but what was it all about? Had I gone fucking sex crazy like Justin had with the twins? Was I a fucking queer faggot now? Was I gonna start talking with a lisp and cruising restrooms out on the interstate?
Wait! That's stupid shit. I had to get my head together. I had to find a way to think about what had happened in some rational way. I was a smart guy. As smart as Jess and headed for college . . . some college. I was a jock. I had a girlfriend. I wasn't fucking queer a week ago. So what the fuck was going on with me?
I decided to try the method my guidance counselor always told me to use. Make lists. So I started two lists in my mind. One: things that make me straight. Two: things that make me a faggot.
First list. Kate. The blowjob she gave me. Straight jock. Love pussy. Never did anything with a guy. At least not until Justin and that was just stuff any two guys could do. Beating off together, or sometimes lending a hand. Getting a blowjob from a gay guy. Lots of straight guys did these things. I'd heard other guys I knew talk about them.
As I tried to construct that list, my mind filled with images of Justin . . . and me. The shit we had done. Him jerking me off. Him blowing me. Me cumming on his scooter. How funny was that! A fucking accident was all. Me jerking Justin off to make him feel better . . . for all the help he'd been to me.
But as I thought about these things, my hand had snaked into the still open fly of my old jeans and found my cock. Hard again! Fucking hard again! And plenty of Justin's and my cum, plus all the fresh pre-cum I was oozing. More than enough there to give me the lube to start stroking. Soon I had unbuttoned the waistband so I could stroke up and down the whole eight hard inches. It felt a little tender to the touch at first - probably rubbed a little sore today -- but the sensation of stroking my meat overcame that. As I stroked with my right hand, I wrapped the tips of the fingers on my left hand around my cockhead and gently jerked my sensitive crown.
After all the action I'd had today, I was able to keep this action up for almost 20 minutes, with slight variations from time to time. Making sure my nuts didn't feel ignored. Taste testing my pre-cum. I wanted to know how it tasted compared to the thick cream soon to cum.
Eventually the time came. I tried to draw it out a little longer, turning my attention to my hardened nipples. Circling them with my cum-covered fingers. Gently stroking my chest and abs. But it was too late. I couldn't hold back once my nuts started to churn and my dick began to twitch and drool even more pre-jizz. I wasn't even touching my cock and it was just twitching a drooling. Finally, before I went fucking crazy, I reached down and with one stroke from top to bottom I brought myself off. My cum was flowing once again. It was a more gentle, less urgent climax than any I'd felt with Justin, but it still felt good. It still brought relief. I rebuttoned the waistband and closed the fly on my jeans. I didn't want to lose any of this good jizz. My sperm. My man juice. I wanted it trapped right there with the rest of my cum and Justin's cum. I wanted to sleep in it. Wrapped in our cum. And with that, I went to sleep.
When I woke up Sunday morning, my Mom was calling my name. I immediately remembered I was lying there in the old jeans and started to panic. But what the fuck. It wasn't really much different than waking up in my cum-soaked sheets day after day. And just like the jeans, those got reloaded too. Only I reloaded them at least once a day. More often some days.
Why should I panic? I hadn't done anything but jackoff, get a blowjob like any All-American boy would if he had the chance, and do a favor for a friend that didn't cost me anything except a little wrist action. No big deal.
As I started to get up, I heard her say, "Jess is here. He's coming up. Are you decent?"
With that, I did start to panic. Then, I thought, no big deal.
Billy walked in and saw me lying in bed surrounded by my soiled sheets, with nothing on but my old jeans. If he noticed the dried, flaky cum all over my crotch, he didn't mention it.
"Are you feeling OK?" he asked.
"Why?" I said.
"It's afternoon. First you missed the party last night and now you've blown off going to the cheap-seat early matinee with me. I thought maybe my best friend was sick or something."
"Yeah, kinda," I mumbled, pulling a cum-stained sheet over my crotch, trying to make sure Jess didn't notice the dried cum on my jeans. "I think it may have started during the meet yesterday. That's probably why I did so shitty. I haven't felt right since. The lies were flowing easy. Sorry, Jess, I thought. I don't want to hurt you with the truth. Whatever the fuck the truth might be.
"What's that smell?" he asked.
"What smell?"
"Something sort of sweet and rancid all at the same time. When did you wash your sheets last, dude?" Justin asked, reaching to pull the sheet off of me.
I grabbed it and told him it was laundry day. "Sorry for the stench."
"You need anything," my best bud asked in true best bud form. Jess always was a trooper. Always ready to help.
"No. I'll be OK. I think I just need to sleep it off. I'll see you tomorrow and I'm really sorry about the movie. I had no idea it was so late. I shoulda called. See you at school."
"I can stay if you want," he offered.
"No, I think I need my rest."
I did a little studying and checked out some of the porn sites Justin had showed me. As I was flipping through photos of guys doing a lot of weird stuff to other guys, I realized I wasn't getting hard.
I added that to the top of my not-gay list. I remembered seeing Justin when I walked into his room while he was looking at sites like these and he was definitely fucking hard.
Still, I was just as confused that Sunday as I was the Saturday night before. I had, however, managed to come up with a list of possibilities. First, I was completely straight. Everything Justin had said was right. Jacking each other off, getting a blowjob, all of that stuff was completely normal for horny 18-year-old jocks like me. Second, I was straight, but Justin had some weird effect on me that made me do gay shit I wouldn't do anywhere else or with anyone else, except maybe Jess. Third, I was just discovering I was bi. I could get blowjobs from Kate or Jess. Either way I got my rocks off. Fourth, I really was gay and had been fooling myself all this time.
I was strongly leaning towards the second option. None of the rest really seemed to fit the facts. At least not the facts as I had discovered them at that point in my horny fucking life.
Don't ask me why, but I decided I needed to know what Justin thought. I slipped on the A&F's Justin had given me, put my old jeans in a workout bag, and headed out the door, hoping not to face any questions from mom and dad.
Justin was at work when I stopped by his house. I guess I should have called. So rather than go back home, I decided to stop by Kate's to make sure things were OK between us. She was out, too.
So I went to the mall where Justin worked. Again, I wasn't sure why. I walked past the store a couple of times looking in to see if I could see him. The first two times I didn't see him. The third time I saw him standing talking and laughing with two other guys I think may have gone to our high school. Probably juniors like Justin. Not guys I really knew.
Justin saw me and sort of waved his hand at me. Then walked over to the double doors.
"What are you doing here?" he asked.
"Just had to pick something up for my mom."
"You want to come in and pick up some clothes. We've got a lot of stuff you'd look great in and I think you might get a nice discount from the right sales guy."
I begged off. Told him I didn't have time.
"Stop by my house later," he suggested. "I'm off at 5."
"Yeah, maybe, but I've gotta study, too."
How lame was that?
I went home and hit the books as best I could, trying to put all this gay sex shit out of my head. The time passed very slowly. History and math seemed really pointless in comparison to trying to figure out if I was gay or straight.
Finally it was 5 and I wanted to go see Justin, but he was just getting off work. Or maybe, if Mike was working, Justin was getting off. I put that thought out of my head and decided on a shower to kill the time.
Of course, I jerked off. I hadn't realized until I got in the shower and started soaping up that I had completely ignored my nads all day. It didn't take long. It wasn't any more memorable than the thousands of other times I'd jerked off in the shower. But it felt good enough and it was done.
I dressed, putting on jeans that didn't really flatter me. I knew it was an intentional strategy on my part. I just didn't know what my strategy was. I picked up the gym bag with the old jeans inside and headed for Justin's house.
To Be Continued . . .
AUTHOR"S NOTE: The names and some other identifying information in this story have been changed to conceal the identities of the characters described. The copyright for this story is held by Hardreader. The story may not be reprinted or distributed elsewhere without the permission of the author. I would love to receive comments on this story from readers at hardreader2000@aol.com