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It was my fifteenth birthday and my best friend Dalton threw me a surprise party. He got our other friend Marty, who's sixteen and has his driver's license, to drive the three of us to Pizza Shack. Dalton was springing for the pie. What I didn't know was, while we were at The Shack, my mom was let in fifteen other friends who decorated the basement with streamers and old baby photos of me and shit, and set out snacks and sodas and waiting for Marty to drive me and Dalton back to the house.
Marty had his own surprise, though. He showed it to us at the Shack after the waitress took our order. "Dudes. Check it out." He pulled his jacket open enough that we could see the pint bottle sticking out of his inside pocket. "Happy birthday, Jason!" He looked around to make sure no one who counted was looking, and poured a healthy splash into my cup of soda.
"Whoa, not so much!" I protested. He shrugged and took that cup for himself and poured a smaller dose into another cup which he passed to me. Dalton put his hand over this cup, turning down the offer.
"One of us needs to stay sober enough to drive," he said.
"Shit, you don't even have a license. You're not driving my dad's car. He'd kill me."
"Okay, but then no more booze. Save it for later."
"What's later?" I asked.
Dalton said smoothly, "After he drops us off. When he's back home."
I'd only ever had beer before. I don't know what Marty poured into my coke but it burned my throat going down. I tried to act cool but my coughing and sputtering gave me away. The way he downed his, you'd think it was nothing but water. He was obviously used to whatever it was.
He kept his word though, and stuck to soda after that. We finished our pizza and Dalton said Marty could drop us off at my house so he could go home and get wasted. I was bummed, as I thought we'd keep celebrating, but when we got home and the three of went to the basement for some Xbox and everyone jumped out shouting SURPRISE, giving me a heart attack, I got over the disappointment.
The party was great. Marty kept sneaking sips from his bottle and soon he was wasted. When the party broke up around midnight Melissa Henderson offered to drive Marty home but he said his dad would kill him if he came home drunk. "Can I crash here?" he asked me.
"Sure, I said. Bit by bit everyone left, even Dalton. I pulled out the Futon in the basement, turning into a halfway decent bed, and turned on the TV. Marty lay on the futon and ten minutes later was out cold. I started to head upstairs to my room but paused. He was really wasted. What if he puked in his sleep? My mom was an ER doc and I'd heard about people who choked to death on their own vomit when they were drunk. I don't know if that was true or a horror story she made up to keep me from drinking, but I didn't want to take a chance on Marty dying in the night.
I got on the futon next to him, using the couch cushions as a pillow, and watched TV.
I must have fallen asleep because I was having a sweet dream. I was hard and Melissa was rubbing my dick through my jeans. Dream me kept telling Dream Mellissa to stop being a tease and let me fuck her, but my subconscious wouldn't give me that satisfaction. Or maybe subconsciously I didn't want to have a wet dream next to Marty. But dream blue balls suck just as bad as waking blue balls.
I opened my eyes. The only light in the room came from the TV which was still on, but the sound was muted. At first I thought I hadn't been dreaming, because someone was for sure rubbing my jeans over my hardon. But it wasn't Melissa.
It was Marty. What the fuck kind of dream was HE having?
I decided I didn't care, because it felt too damn good. Without moving my head I looked over at him. Shit. He wasn't dreaming at all. He was wide awake. In the glow of the TV I could his profile, as he rested his chin on his left palm, elbow resting on the futon, while his right hand pressed my boner.
I closed my eyes when I saw him start to turn toward me. His hand left my crotch and slid under my shirt. Was Marty a queer? He's a got a girlfriend for Christ's sake. Then again, I'm no queer and I'm letting him do this. Maybe it's my birthday present.
Meanwhile his hand is under my shirt rubbing my belly, but not as firmly as it was rubbing my dick. It was almost tender. His fingers were spread, barely touching my skin, giving me goosebumps and they traced their way up my torso toward my pecs. They were like feathers as they barely touched my nipples, going from the left to the right and back again. I sighed and his hand paused. I forced myself to control my breathing and after an eternity his fingers continues their tantalizing dance over my nips, which had hardened. I had no idea they could feel so good. Why have I been ignoring them when I beat off?
Marty's hand lingered over my left nipple twirling it between his fingers. I suddenly wanted him to be less gently. To pinch it. Hell I wanted him to suck it. To bite it. Where did that come from. I willed him to read my mind and grant my birthday wish, but I willed in vain.
His hand worked its way from under my shirt, lingering at my belly button. I have the just the beginning of a treasure trail. More of a treasure path really. He tickled the few hairs below my navel then used both hands to undo the fly of my jeans and lower my zipper
He spread the fly, exposing the bulge of my boxer briefs. I chanced opening my eyes again. He face was inches from my throbbing dick. He put his nose so close to it I'm surprised I didn't feel it. I heard him inhale deeply and then moan. Then I did feel him and he pushed his face into my crotch, taking another deep breath.
His cheeks were pressed against my dick as he chewed gently where my underwear covered my sweaty balls. He seemed intoxicated by them. He moved his head so that his cheek was no longer pressing my dick but he never stopped slobbering over my balls as he reached into my fly and fished out my dick.
Ohmygod it felt so good to have his hand wrapped around it. It took all my willpower not to moan. He didn't jerk me off, though, he just held it. It was torture. Dammit Marty, suck my tits! Jack my cock! You're killing me! I silently screamed.
Instead of jacking it he milked it, just once, sliding his hand from base to head, coaxing out a drop of precum, something I'd only just started producing a couple of months ago. So far I was able to pass this off as a drunken birthday present, or maybe him being sleep walking or sleep wanking me, But I didn't know what to think when abandoned my balls and stuck out his tongue and licked the precum from the head of my dick.
No one else had ever touched my dick before let alone licked it. I finally couldn't hold back anymore and moaned. He froze. "Oh Jesus, Marty, don't stop. Please."
He let go of my dick and sat up. "Um, I'm sorry Jason! I was dreaming and uh."
"Shut up and suck my cock! I'm begging you!"
He looked at me, maybe to see if it was a trick, then without a word grabbed my dick again and went back to licking the head.
"Please man. Put it in your mouth. Suck it."
"You sure?"
I grabbed his head and pulled him down to my dick. "Yes! I'm sure! Suck me!"
He pushed my hands away from his head and grabbed my dick again with one hand and finally took it into his mouth. I moaned so loud I was afraid Mom would hear me up two floors up. He used his other hand to tug at my nuts, making me moan even louder.
Remembering how good it felt when his hands were on my chest I pulled up my shirt and began pinching my tits while he sucked my cock. "Oh fuck Marty, I'm gonna cum." I didn't want him to stop but I didn't dare squirt in his mouth. He'd kill me. "Seriously man, pull off I'm gonna jizz." He only tugged my nuts a little harder and jacked my cock as he sucked it.
"Unnnh!" I spurted in his mouth, grateful that he'd kept going. This was a thousand times better than jerking off. "Unnnhhh!" Another spurt, stronger than the first one, and he swallowed. He was humping the futon as he took my load. Three more spurts and I'd given him all I had, but still he sucked me until it was too sensitive. 'No more!" I said. He allowed my dick to slid out of his mouth and then desperately pulled out his own uncut cock and started masturbating furiously. I was fascinated, watching the skin cover and uncover the head of his dick. I leaned over for a close look.
This put my chest closer to his face and he stretched hungrily toward it. I got the message and scooched closer and finally got my birthday wish as his mouth latched onto my left tit, sucking and chewing it. I'd just cum seconds ago but his mouth action on my nipple kept me hard even though my dick was still too sensitive for me to jack off and cum again.
He bit down on my tit making me cry out just as his cock erupted in a geyser of cum, putting my five spurts to shame. He must have been saving it up for days.
When he came down from his orgasmic high the reality of what happened came over both of us. "Um, look," he started.
I cut him off. "You're drunk," said. "And I'm still feeling that hit I had at the Shack." That was a lie but I had to explain why I let a guy suck me off. "I'm going upstairs to bed. Night."
End part one.