Nightmares on Fig Leaf Street

Disclaimer: this is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to people, places or events is unintentional.

Nightmares on Fig Leaf Street Chapter I

THE MAN WHO WASN'T THERE

DAY ONE - SATURDAY

Henry tried to watch without making it obvious he was watching. His stepbrother Andrew was playing basketball with his best friend Leroy and they were both shirtless. They were both on the school football team so they were broad and muscular, with strong legs and arms. The October sun was warm at midday on a Saturday and the sweaty eighteen-year-olds bumped each other as they wrestled for possession of the ball.

Henry could see dick swing within the shorts. The unsupported genitals flopped and flapped against the inside of their shorts as they ran and jumped. Andrew liked the way the soft fabric brushed against the head of his penis as it swung.

Andrew and Leroy had sockless feet planted inside their sneakers so their bare ankles seamlessly joined muscular claves and thighs which were wrapped in loose shorts. Andrew and Leroy had short hair on their legs that trapped their perspiration like a flytrap.

Eighteen-year-old Henry was not like the fuck-hot boys who liked playing with balls. Well, actually, Henry did like playing with balls but not sport balls. Henry was slim and at five foot seven, he was nearly half a foot shorter than Andrew and Leroy. Henry wasn't reading Animal Dreams by Barbara Kingsolver (because he was too busy sneaking peeks at Andrew and Leroy) but it was in his hands and he was looking at the pages when he wasn't checking out his hot stepbrother and Andrew's even hotter best friend. He was crushing on straight guys!

This is how life is, ridiculous beyond comprehension – as Kingsolver wrote (if Henry ever reached that part).

As Andrew reached up to dunk another ball into the net on their driveway, his furry pit was exposed. Henry imagined burying his face in it or licking the sweat out. His tongue bathing the chest that was speckled with hair without being hairy. Andrew was a white boy with fair but not blonde hair but for a footballer, he had a surprisingly gentle and thoughtful nature. He was defensive of his stepbrother which was probably why, when Henry came out at school, there was very little harassment.

Andrew's dad, Johnny, had married Siti Ng when Henry was just a year old. Henry's own dad, Arthur, had committed suicide, leaving Siti widowed. Both of Henry's parents had been born in the New Jersey and he shared his parent's Malaysian heritage with a milky coffee complexion of smooth skin, black hair and brown eyes.

Henry wasn't on the football team (or the basketball or swimming team) but he was thick and fast, enjoying athletics recreationally instead of professionally or academically.

Henry's gaze moved to Leroy as Andrew celebrated equalising scores. Leroy high fived his friend. Leroy had dark skin but his palms were almost pink. His chest was beefy with black hair that was almost invisible on his brown skin. The game might have continued for a while longer but Andrew was distracted – stopping to stare at the end of the driveway.

Standing on the sidewalk outside No. 1984 Fig Leaf Street was man – planted almost like a scarecrow.

Henry followed Andrew's gaze to the end of the yard where the man was standing and looking at their house. There was something wrong with the stranger. He looked out of place. Incongruous. The stranger wore black trousers and shoes with a white shirt and black tie. He had a decent build hiding beneath the shirt.

It was the way the stranger didn't move that was unsettling. He stood stalk still and straight backed while looking at the house and although his head did not move and he was too far away for Henry to see his face, Henry could sense a wandering gaze.

"Hey!" shouted Andrew.

The man's head turned slowly to look at Andrew and a smile played on his lips. The eyes again, still too far away to see, were searching Andrew and then Leroy with interest.

"Can I help you?" Andrew said indignantly as he approached the stranger.

The response was too quiet for Henry to hear and Andrew's reaction seemed to be one of bewilderment. After a few exchanges, Andrew turned away from the stranger. His eyebrows shot up and walked back up the drive towards Leroy and he mouthed "what a freak." Andrew and Leroy both turned towards the house and approached the porch where Henry was sitting. Henry watched the man looking at the backs of the two high school seniors and didn't like it much; it was one thing for him to perv on boys but the man looking at them was unseemly.

Henry looked to his brother and Leroy as they got closer and looked back to the bottom of the drive only a moment later but the mysterious man had vanished.

That was weird! Henry couldn't see him anywhere on Fig Leaf Street, which stretched a long way in either direction. Where had he gone? Henry stood up as Andrew and Leroy arrived.

"Who was he?" Henry asked.

Andrew had been chatting to Leroy when his stepbrother spoke and he broke off midsentence to answer the question.

"Dunno. He said he was hungry," Andrew replied.

"What?" Henry asked.

He didn't know what he had expected but that wasn't it.

"I asked him what he was going looking at our house and he said," Andrew reported, dropping into a monosyllabic tone for the next bit; "I was just so hungry."

"But why was he here?" Henry asked.

"That's what I said," Andrew replied. "I was hungry. I was just so hungry."

"Should have made him a sandwich, bro," Leroy said.

"No way. He was dressed like a Mormon! The hell am I making those fuckers a sandwich," Andrew replied.

Henry was about to point out that one of the fastest ways to get on the blocked list was to be nice to Mormons – the leadership didn't like the naïve to know that outside the church, people could be kind and decent. When people told them to fuck off, they were supposed to scurry home to the safety of the community. Henry didn't bother saying anything though.

"Will you make me a sandwich?" Leroy asked.

"Yea, maybe," Andrew replied grudgingly.

"Where'd he go?" Henry asked – looking up at them.

They were close now - sweaty and muscular. He tried not to peek up their shorts but Leroy smirked because he could feel Henry's gaze. He never mind being checked out by his best friend's brother – he was flattered. Leroy's big dick and balls sagged inside his shorts and he was secretly quite pleased that Henry was trying to look up his shorts but equally pleased that he resisted. Pervert!

As to Henry's question, the pair looked back and equally noted the sinister man had vanished.

"Dunno," Andrew shrugged.

Andrew and Leroy passed Henry to go inside and as they did; Henry subtly inhaled the musk of the two lads. Holy fuck, they smelled good. Henry needed to get a grip! Of himself! Getting a grip of his stepbrother or Leroy was a nice idea but unlikely.

Maybe in his dreams...

DAY TWO - SUNDAY

The clock flashed 02:13 as Henry roused to a dark room. The lights were off in the family room and the TV had turned itself off to save power. Henry had a habit of falling asleep downstairs – staying up late at the weekend watching nonsense. Henry was dressed in a white vest with black shorts but he was barefoot and it was chilly in the middle of the night. It was the chill that had woken him. Henry stood up and headed out of the family room; casually scratching his balls, his genitals shrunken inside the shorts but enjoying the pull of his fingers.

Was it the chill that had woken him?

There was something wrong with the house... Henry had exited the family room and would have turned left for the stairs but a flickering to his right caught his eye. There was a light in the kitchen but not a ceiling light. There was a sound too, quiet and hissing. Henry padded towards the kitchen, feeling a little bit scared as he did so. It was a feeling of being disconcerted – a fear of the unknown and of knowing or sensing something bad was going to happen.

As Henry neared the kitchen, he realised why the light was flickering. His mom preferred a gas range to cook on and all five rings were now ignited, the oven was also lit (the door ajar) and together the hiss of the gas and blue flames created a low growl within the room. The fridge door was open too and pinged at being left open too long.

It was only as Henry reached forward to close it that he stepped fully into the kitchen and saw a figure sitting at the kitchen table.

"Fuck!" Henry jumped.

The figure did not move.

It was illuminated only by the flickering blue flames but Henry could tell it was the stranger from earlier. The one who had stood on the street and vanished. He was still dressed in black and white, only the jacket had been removed. Henry's eyes darted to the back door which was open and swayed, noiselessly, ever so slightly. Autumn leaves scurried around the floor just inside the door, the cool air creeping along the floor to chill Henry's feet; it was a chill that crawled up his legs and either it or fear made Henry's balls shrink.

The door could not have been left open accidentally. Henry's dad (his stepdad) would have closed and locked it last night. Johnny Roberts was the Chief of Police and never forgot things like that.

Henry nudged the fridge door closed to shut off the pinging and the light. The figure didn't move as Henry entered the room.

"Who are you?" Henry asked, shivering from the chill and fear now.

There was no immediate reply and Henry thought the stranger hadn't heard or wasn't going to answer.

"I was hungry," the stranger muttered.

The stranger's white shirt was illuminated brilliantly by the blue lights from the cooker, which seemed to roar louder now that Henry was in the kitchen with the man. Henry knew he should shout for help but he couldn't find his voice to do so. Henry felt all alone.

Abandoned.

Instead, Henry crossed the room to the back door and looked at the lock which was perfectly intact. The glass had not been broken, the handle had not been tampered with. How had the stranger got inside?

"Why... why are you here?" Henry asked as he grabbed the cordless phone from the cradle.

The stranger looked up at Henry and the eighteen-year-old felt frozen. The man had a handsome face but very dark eyes and his mouth was neither smiling nor scowling. It's neutrality was what made him unsettling. His hair was combed to one side and in the shirt and tie he really did look like a Mormon. A scary one... ok, they're all scary.

"I was... just... so hungry..." the stranger said.

"Right ok, well you shouldn't be here," Henry said.

"That's not nice," the man replied chillingly.

It was like he was admonishing Henry for speaking out of turn. Henry dialled 911 and the sound of it ringing seemed very loud in the suddenly silent room. The man still hadn't moved. He hadn't done anything. Henry walked back towards the entrance to the kitchen because he didn't like that the man was between him and the safety of his family.

Had none of them heard anything? The door being opened? The gas? The voices? Why did Henry feel like he was all alone?

The stranger made no move as Henry edged past him.

"911 operator, what is your emergency?" the voice came though the line.

"Hi... um... I think I need help..." Henry said.

"What is the address, please?" the operator asked.

"1984 Fig Leaf Street," Henry replied.

There was a brig pause and the sound of tapping on a keyboard.

"There was a call logged from this number yesterday afternoon. Are you Andrew Roberts, the previous caller?" the operator asked.

"No. I'm Henry Hg, his brother..." Henry replied.

He hadn't known Andrew had called the police about the stranger. It wasn't a surprise though – their dad being a cop.

"...there's a man in our house," Henry added.

The silence that followed was like a minor cord on a piano.

"He's in the house with you?" the operator asked in a voice best described as panicked.

"Yes... why?" Henry replied.

Henry watched as the man stood up, pushing the chair back with a scaping sound.

The man was taller than Henry had expected and biceps stretched the sleeves of his shirt. The flames in front of him flickered and roared, setting a blue halo around him. Slowly the man turned.

His chest was big and the face that had been expressionless now had a grotesque grin that seemed to stretch from ear to ear.

"Do not feed him!" the operator said before the line went dead.

At the same moment, the gas rings and the oven extinguished and the kitchen went dark. Henry dropped the phone and spun around, running from the kitchen towards the front of the house. So many thoughts went through his head.

Should he shout for help? Would the family think he was stupid for yelling? Should he try to grab a weapon? There were tools under the stairs, a nice hammer maybe? Should he run out the house? What if the stranger chased him or what if the stranger didn't chase him and Henry returned to find his family were all hurt? Should he run upstairs? But what if the man didn't follow and then the police couldn't find him? The man had got into the house once, would they ever feel safe again if Henry let him go?

Henry was about to pass the family room when a figure stepped from it – the stranger. But how? Henry bounced off the man, who snatched at the front of Henry's vest and ripped it off him. The vest tore away like it was made of tissue paper. Henry was now bare chested, his brown nipples shrinking in the cold. Henry had a smooth body with smooth thighs and legs projecting from his shorts. The man reached forward and gracefully covered Henry's mouth with one hand.

Henry was pressed against the baluster slats of the stairs behind him.

The man's other hand dipped into Henry's shorts.

Henry gasped as the man's big hands groped Henry's balls and his flaccid, shrunken penis. Henry wanted to shout out but couldn't. Even worse, the house felt not just quiet but silent and empty. He was all alone with the stranger and there was no-one to help.

It was Henry's greatest fear – being alone. Being abandoned.

"I was so hungry," the stranger whispered. "Take them off."

Henry didn't know why he obeyed but he dropped the shorts to his bare feet and even stepping out of them. Naked before the man, Henry shivered and quivered.

Henry had never been naked like this before. Exposed. It was exciting and flattering that the man looked at him. The man who was clearly a figure of intensity and one to be feared and yet... Henry felt complimented by the attention.

The stranger was powerful but sexy, scary but gentle, big but subtle.

"What are you doing?"

The man cupped Henry's balls but the voice had not come from him.

"What."

The man smirked as he tugged Henry's leathery sac. Still, his lips did not move.

"What are."

The man caressed Henry's penis with his thumb and index finger. The voice came as if from the air.

"What are you doing?!"

Henry jerked – not in that way – with the sudden feeling of falling. He awakened, only realising he was awakening when he did so, to find himself standing on the stairs. It was dark, in the middle of the night and Andrew was a few steps above him but there was no-one else there. The falling sensation he'd experienced was something called a hypnagogic jerk. It was the feeling of falling while sleeping. Or dreaming.

It was little consolation to Henry that he had been dreaming because the man who wasn't there lingered like a shadow.

Henry looked downstairs but couldn't hear anything or see flickering blue light or ping of the fridge or this hiss of gas. He looked back up at Andrew who was dressed in shorts and t-shirt and looking at Henry like he was nuts. Only then did Henry realise he was nude. Henry hurriedly covered his penis.

"I was... I had a dream..." Henry said.

Henry licked his lips – there was a taste on them. It was a thick and gooey coating on his tongue and lips so when he swallowed it down, Henry could have sworn it tasted like cum. It was as if the ejaculate had materialised from nowhere.

"So did Martin Luther King Junior but he wore clothes," Andrew replied.

Andrew turned away in what Henry thought was disgust but it was hard to tell in the dark.

"I'm scared," Henry admitted.

"I told you not to sit up watching the Halloween Scarefest! You're such a pussy," Andrew said but not (too) critically.

It would be Halloween on Thursday which wasn't an especially interesting holiday unless you were getting free candy and the eighteen-year-olds were all to old for that. However, Henry did like the Halloween movies except when he hated the Halloween movies.

"You don't like horror movies either!" Henry replied with a pouted lip.

"Which is why I'm not nearly wetting myself now," Andrew pointed out.

"Andrew, please? I'm really scared," Henry admitted.

There must have been something in his voice because Andrew turned back to him.

"If you put something on, you can sleep in my room," Andrew softened.

"I dreamed about..." Henry started to say but Andrew was already walking away and yawning.

Henry climbed the stairs behind his stepbrother and went to his own room for shorts and t-shirt. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and couldn't escape the feeling that his mouth had been doused with jizz. Not that he was complaining.

When Henry got to his brother's room, Andrew was back in bed but had made room for Henry to lay beside him. Andrew was a straight dude but never minded that Henry was gay and he didn't treat Henry like gay was an infection. Henry lay beside his stepbrother who sighed and rolled over to face away from Henry.

"Good night, Andrew," Henry said. "And thanks."

"Sweet dreams," Andrew replied.

Dreams weren't the problem. It was the nightmare that caused Henry to remain restless – he did not sleep well.

ROOM WITH A VIEW

"Of course I know how serious it is!" snapped Chief Roberts.

The man was better known as Johnny to his friends and dad to his son and stepson. He was currently speaking into his mobile phone, pacing irritably through the kitchen and glancing over his sons without breaking from his conversation.

"Because I've been a cop for fifteen years so I know..." he replied. "No. No, I'm not saying that... Of course I'll help you! Just wait until I get there."

"You ok, dad?" Andrew asked carefully.

"Fine. Just a work thing," Johnny responded grumpily.

Henry kept his head down. It was Sunday and Johnny didn't usually work on a Sunday; he didn't like working on a Sunday and resented his day off being interrupted. Henry slurped the last of the milk at the bottom of his cereal bowl.

"What are you boys doing today?" Johnny asked them – forcing nonchalance into his voice.

"Probably just hang out with Leroy," Andrew replied.

"I have homework to finish," Henry admitted.

"Plus Chris usually swims and lays shirtless in the back garden in the afternoon," Andrew teased his brother.

Johnny rolled his eyes – both at Andrew for teasing his brother and at Henry for perving on the boy next door.

"Whatever makes you happy," Johnny said.

The man was distracted though, already typing on his phone and migrating from the kitchen without breakfast. Their mom was at work all day – the Intensive Care Unit at the West Raven Hospital. Shortly after their dad left, Andrew went to play football with Leroy and some other Seniors from school which left Henry alone at home to spy on his neighbour Chris.

Chris was on the school swim team. He was a Senior like Henry, Andrew and Leroy but where Henry was average in height and build, Chris was tall and toned. His swimmers body was enviable and he wasn't modest about it. When it came to his physique, Chris was arrogant and boastful but deep down he was more than a little insecure. At least, Henry assumed he was insecure because they'd kissed in the locker room on the last day of Junior year and Chris had not talked about it since. Chris had popped a boner – Henry could tell because the stud had been wearing his Speedo at the time and it could barely contain the tumescence.

Henry had pressed his crotch against Chris's, his hands caressing the muscular back. Fuck, Chris was hot and Henry had been surprised but delighted to be kissed. Chris's body was smooth and his boner pressed into the seat of the trunks until the trimmed pubis was revealed more so than the tiny speedo already exposed.

In fairness to Chris, Henry hadn't tried to talk about it either so maybe Chris wasn't insecure or if he was, maybe Henry was more insecure himself than he was willing to admit.

Henry knelt on his bed, gazing out of the window at Chris who was doing laps in the pool in his back garden. It was October and soon the weather would compel Chris to go to an indoor pool – then what would Henry do? Stalk Chris's Instagram account? Pay to access Chris's OnlyFans? Watch pornography?

Chris was wet and the front of Henry's shorts were getting wet too. Henry reached down and dipped his hands inside, groping himself and tugging on his dick until it got hard. Henry's cock was 5.8 inches fully hard – very average – and he couldn't help but wonder how big other boys were.

His stepbrother, Andrew.

His stepbrothers best friend, Leroy.

His next-door neighbour, Chris.

His own best friend, Quinn.

Actually, Henry already knew how big Quinn was because he'd been sucking Quinn's dick since they were both fifteen. Nearly sixteen. Henry liked to think he was experienced for having started `sex stuff' when he was fifteen. Where Henry was a fifth of an inch short of six inches, Quinn was a fifth of an inch over. 6.2 inches seemed big when it was in your mouth and Quinn had a really nice head on his cock; the sensation of the ridge was like a bump as Henry's fist past over the head whenever he got to stroke it.

Henry didn't get to stroke it nearly enough! His sexual relationship with Quinn was fleeting at best. They were both out at school but Quinn had had a much tougher time of it. Quinn was a little taller than Henry but had a similarly average build and a similar disinterest in sports. They both ran out of necessity – because Sports were compulsory at school – rather than for fun.

The best friends rarely fell out but in Sophomore year Henry had asked Quinn why he didn't want to come out of the closet and Quinn responded that not everyone was lucky to have a cool football team big brother to look out for him. Quinn was bullied anyway and eventually told "you might as well come out, everyone knows," and it was only as Junior year came to an end that the bullies lost interest. The threat lingered though.

Henry knew how lucky he was – that his acceptance and lack of bullying was because Andrew wouldn't allow it. Others weren't so lucky – like Quinn who was bullied out of and nearly back into the closet. As Henry watched Chris swimming, his reverie moved from his best friend to the hot boy next door. The boy Henry had kissed. Henry couldn't help but wonder about Chris's sexuality. Chris was respected for his swimming but he was also considered a bit of a dick. Plus, he was the son of a Catholic priest which presented a whole different set of coming out problems for the swimmer.

Henry's thoughts chopped about like a boat on the ocean. He was stroking himself inside his shorts as he watched the scantily clad neighbour doing laps. His powerful arms, the peek of pits as he cut through the water. His heaving chest. Henry was soon thinking about Chris swimming in the ocean. All those seamen.

"Hey."

"Fuck!" Henry replied, jumping at the sudden voice behind him.

Henry turned around to see Quinn standing at his bedroom door. Quinn chuckled at having scared Henry and then noticed where his best friend's hand was. Henry checked Quinn out – he was wearing white sneakers and socks, blue board shorts with a matching short-sleeved shirt and a sky-blue vest under that. He looked really hot... and also attractive.

"What were you looking at?" Quinn asked as he wiped sweat from his forehead. "As if I didn't know."

"I was observing superior aquatic form, if you must know," Henry replied with a serious expression. "Some of us actually care about swim class, you know."

The boys looked at each other for a few seconds and then cracked up.

"I can't believe you kept a straight face," Quinn said.

"I know," Henry laughed.

"Sorry I scared you," Quinn said earnestly.

"That's ok. Talking about scares, I had a weird dream last night. It was... it frightened the crap out of me," Henry admitted.

"Do I want to know this? You know I had to stop Sonic the Hedgehog during the scary bits," Quinn said.

"It was sexy too. There's nudity in it," Henry replied.

"Oh, in that case, tell me more," Quinn agreed happily.

SHOW, DON'T TELL

Chris floated on his back. He wasn't sure when Henry had stopped watching him just like he wasn't sure when Henry had started watching him but he felt idle without an audience to bait. After a while, Chris climbed out of the pool and rubbed water from his hair with his hand.

His body was dripping wet and glistening in the sun. His nipples were hard, his muscles flexed and his tummy sucked in so there was a V shaped gap into his speedo. He thought it looked hot and it did. Chris often caught people checking him out – guys and girls, men and neighbours. He liked being looked at and admired, it fed his ego which was probably big enough already.

Chris lay down on a lounger beside the pool, enjoying the sun while it was still warm enough to bathe in. He put his arms behind his head, exposing his pits. His body was not totally smooth but he kept it very nearly hairless and he also kept his pits and pubic bush short and neat too. His pubes in particular because he didn't want short and curly hairs sprouting from his speedo during swim meets or after competition interviews.

Chris closed his eyes but only after looking to see if Henry was looking at him again and grunting when he realised he wasn't being watched. Not that he wanted Henry to watch him. Not really. Why would he? It wasn't as if Henry was the first boy he'd ever kissed. It wasn't as if it had made him hard. It wasn't as if he knew Henry was gay and single and a good guy who wouldn't go telling everyone his secret. Not that he had a secret. And if he did have a secret, it wasn't as if he was ashamed. It wasn't as if Chris was scared to be outed or scared to be seen kissing a boy...

Chris's lips touched Henry's.

It was soft and moist and warm. Nervously, Chris put out the tip of his tongue to lick Henry's lips and to press it into Henry's mouth. Henry seemed surprised and then eager. Chris put his arms around Henry, holding him tight as the lip locking became noisy and fevered.

Chris pressed his body against Henry's; his hard and muscular physique against a skinny and petite frame; his almost naked body, for he was wearing only his speedo, against a fully clothed boy.

Henry reached down and grabbed Chris's crotch, feeling a very firm lump inside the speedo. When Henry smiled, it made kissing his mouth feel funny and he smiled too. Chuckling, they both parted and Chris bit his lip as Henry squeezed the bulge. The bulge wasn't just Chris's penis – it was his big balls too which filled the seat of the speedo and made the contents of the tiny swimwear seem very impressive indeed.

"Do you want to see it?" Chris teased Henry.

"Do you want to show me?" Henry replied with uncharacteristic confidence.

Could he admit he wanted another boy to see his cock?

"Yes," he replied sheepishly.

"Take it out for me," Henry said. "Show me your dick, big boy."

"You promise not to tell anyone?" Chris asked timidly.

"Show me and I won't tell," Henry promised but was he lying?

Chris blushed as he pulled down the front of his speedo and exposed his penis. It was a firm but not quite hard tube of meat – six and a half inches of teenage prick. It was topped by short wires of dark pubic hair but Chris's chest had only a few sprigs of hair on it. His thighs were silky smooth – almost embarrassingly so. A lot of swimmers didn't shave now adays but Chris still did.

There was two reasons for this. 1) he liked the feel of his skin when it was hairless. 2) he didn't have much hair and it was easier to hide that fact when everyone knew he shaved. Chris's inner thighs were like marble and his calves and shins were silky too; his pits were kept trimmed using a dry razor that he dragged across it to pull the hair free while leaving a sparse sprout deep in the axilla.

"Your dick looks great, Chris," said Henry. "Why don't you show me how you play with it."

Henry sounded seductive and simultaneously mocking and encouraging.

"Push those things down so I can see your balls properly," Henry said.

It didn't sound like Henry. Chris looked at him for a moment but it was still the boy next door, albeit sounding hungrier and hornier than normal. Chris looked towards the locker room door, checking for safety.

"We're alone, Chris. Do it, do it now," Henry encouraged.

Chris nodded as he pushed his speedo down a bit more until they were wrapped into a tangled black line at the top of his thighs – fully exposing his ass and his genitals. Chris stroked his dick, concentrating on the circumcised head which he squeezed to encourage the leakage of lubricating drops of precum.

Chris spread the precum with his thumb and then stoked up and down the length of the veiny shaft. Chris was growing tired... was he tired... he was...

"Keep going, Chris," Henry said.

Chris looked at Henry, his dark eyes and cute face, his milky-brown skin and his smile which was growing bigger by the second. When the kissing had started, it had been exciting.

Chris felt bold when he was alone with Henry but this felt different. Chris felt exposed – jerking off for the boy who was crushing on him. It was so obvious Henry liked him, that's what Chris liked about Henry. Was that all it was – did Chris enjoy the attention?

Or was it the kissing? Was it that he wanted Henry to suck his dick... was it that Chris wanted to suck Henry's dick.

"Chris, where are you at, dude?" called a voice.

"He's in here," Henry shouted back.

"No!" Chris hissed.

Chris wanted to move, to pull his trunks up and hide his boner. To not be caught exposing himself to another boy. But he felt paralysed and Henry's voice had been different again. Like he was someone else pretending to be Henry. The door opened almost immediately.

"No don't!" Chris said but it was too late.

Chris turned to see his swimming coach and three lads from the swim team standing in the doorway and now he was facing them with his cock out. He was exposed and hard and Henry was here too. Henry and Chris in the storeroom together – what would they think?

They would know!

They would know he was a...

The coach was wearing a t-shirt with the school logo on it. The black cord around his neck on which there dangled a whistle was like a black tie, making the man look formal. He also wore black trousers.

Chris didn't recognise the coach but he knew that's who the man was. His eyes were very dark and he smirked at Chris for being caught with his speedo's down. The three lads didn't smirk – they laughed at him.

Chris struggled to pull his speedo up, untangling it and pulling it over his ass before stuffing his still hard cock back inside it. The front of the speedo bulged obscenely and Chris's teammates continued to laugh at him.

"You and Henry?"

"We... We were only kissing," Henry defended.

Even this was a humiliating admission. Even this was saying too much.

"Ha ha ha. You were kissing Henry, Chris?"

"With your cock out?"

"Which part of him were you kissing?"

It wasn't just the burning humiliation – his cheeks turning red as they made fun of him – it was the fact he couldn't, wouldn't or didn't cover the manhood inside his tight swimming trunks. Chris was still hard and he felt a sense of enjoyment at being caught. He liked it every bit as much as he feared the consequences.

"What are you even doing here?" Chris whined as his erection throbbed inside his speedo.

He was facing the coach and his three teammates and was peripherally aware that he should cover himself but logic had deserted him. The tightness of his trunks only seemed to emphasise his boy-on-boy arousal. It continued to bother Chris that while his teammates were familiar, the coach... Chris couldn't put a name to him. He had never been more aware of his smooth body and his pert nipples than he was standing in the intimate confines of the room and facing this stranger who openly ogled him.

"I was hungry," his coach said ominously.

"So was Chris."

"Cock hungry."

"No. I wasn't... we weren't doing anything," Chris pleaded.

"Wait until we tell everyone."

"No, please!" Chris said desperately.

His three friends sneered at him and Chris desperately wanted to beg them not to tell anyone but beside him, Henry hand placed a hand on his butt and he liked it. Chris really liked it. Even exposed and caught – his biggest fear – could not override the sexual pleasure of being fondled so close to has asshole.

His coach grinned so widely it looked like his face would split.

Inside his speedo, Chris's cock pulsed and it started to leak. It stained his speedo, causing more mocking laughter from his friends. Chris closed his eyes and whimpered as Henry stopped caressing his ass through the speedo and instead dipped his hand inside. Chris felt the soft hand of a boy touching the bare skin of his buttocks and his cock leaked so hard that precum leaked onto his thighs

"He likes it!"

"Looks like he's about to blow."

"They'll tell everyone, Chris," the coach whispered but the sotto voice carried.

"Everyone will know you're a..."

Chris jerked awake, sitting up in the lounger, safe and sound in his back garden on a Sunday afternoon. Chris felt a confusing mix of emotions; he had liked kissing Henry and impressing his neighbour with his cock. Even being caught, while terrifying, had been exciting.

The coach had been scary; he had said so little but his very presence seemed to linger even as the dream faded. However, the sinister presence was not Chris's greatest fear.

Chris's heart was pounding as he reflected on his biggest fear – being caught and outed.

Chris could still feel his cock straining inside his speedo. The arousal had been real. In fact, Chris could feel his speedo was filled with spunk. Had he cum in his trunks? Chris peeked inside and saw a total mess all over his penis and balls. It looked like about ten loads of cum, which was leaking over his tummy and onto his thighs. Chris couldn't have cum that much.

The jizz was so plentiful that Chris could feel it pooling around his ass, slopping over his cheeks and into his crack. It was as if his dream had conjured cum – so much cum.

"Chris?" his dad's voice called.

Chris panicked and grabbed a towel, pulling it over his crotch.

"Chris, I'm back. Are you ok?" his dad asked.

Sebastian Booth had a busy Sunday morning schedule leading Mass. Chris, did not usually attend.

"I'm fine," Chris said a little too quickly.

The man watched his son lounging around in the garden wearing only his swimwear. Sebastian was wont to remember when he was that fit but less inclined to recall other aspects of his school days. "How was the homily?" Chris asked.

"It went well. It was about the eight beatitudes," his dad replied.

"Oh right?" Chris replied.

Chris did not believe what his dad believed but he carried around a lot of guilt which was as Catholic as one got. It was guilt that made him feel ashamed of how he felt about boys.

"Yea, one of my parishioners said I was preaching `woke bullshit' and when I told him I was reflecting on the teachings of Christ he told me to stop it," Sebastian said.

The man didn't sound to bothered by the criticism.

"Are you going for a swim?" the man asked him.

Chris could still feel his dick was not totally soft and wasn't sure if the cum inside his speedo would be visible if he stood up. As happy and comfortable was Chris was with his body and being seen in tight, groin hugging clothing, he didn't really want to expose a semi to his own dad.

"In a bit," Chris replied.

Sebastian glanced over the towel covering his son's groin. Chris had strong, bare legs and a tight muscular abdomen. The priest knew girls would lust over that body of his.

"Ok. Well... don't forget your chores," Sebastian said.

"Fine," Chris said – praying (pun intended) that his dad hadn't seen his boner.

Once his dad was gone, Chris removed the towel and contemplated the abnormal volume of cum. It was so sticky and gross and magnificent. Chris couldn't go soft at the thought of how many loads of cum it would have taken to fill his speedo like this. It was as if the entire swim team had cum on him in his sleep; as if he had drawn cum from the dream and into the real world.

The nightmare had felt so real and when he looked at the top of his thighs there was a mark like a tight band had been wrapped around them... like his speedo's had been pulled down around his thighs just as in the dream.

But that wasn't real... It was just a bad dream.

END OF CHAPTER I

TO BE CONTINUED...

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My stories so far:

https://www.nifty.org/nifty/authors.html#jforrester

Complete series: School Exhibitionism, The Symposium, The Embarrassment of Riches, Do As You're Told, A Series of Embarrassing Events, and Noah the Embarrassed Nudist.

Also: Anthology, and The SEX Men.

Short stories: Aiden's Accidental Autoerotic Assignment, Jogging Joe's Jaunty Journey and Peter's Past Posing Pictures.