This story is fiction. It involves the sexual activity of two high school boys. If this offends you, or if you are not 18 or older, or if it is illegal where you reside to read such material, you must leave.
The story is a revision and a reposting of a story originally written by me; it is copywrited, all rights reserved by the author.
SLEEPING WITH RONNIE (t/t)
I had never stayed in a hotel before. Motels, yes, on family vacations. But a hotel was something very different. We were in a big city where a lot of things seemed different. I'd been really excited about the trip, and, at the same time, playing it cool, as though such a thing was a mere nothing. A trip to Chicago and two nights in a big hotel, however, were not nothing.
We were attending a three-day conference/seminar for high school student journalists. At 15 and a sophomore, I was in my first year on the school paper -- a lowly reporter -- and was lucky to be chosen for the trip. I also knew that I was out of favor with other students on the staff. There were only four of us chosen. The paper advisor was our chaperon. Two girls and two boys. And therein lay my problem.
The advisor was a woman, so she and the girls all shared a room. That left me with Ronnie. I'd never shared a room with anyone before, and I wasn't sure what sleeping in the same room would be like. Ronnie was very attractive. A year older and a junior, everyone said he was in line to be the sports editor next year. He was popular, smart. Did I mention attractive?
My problem went just a little deeper, you see. I liked boys. I wasn't quite sure what that meant yet. I knew that I enjoyed jacking off when thinking about some of the hunks at school. I knew that, at his instigation, I had enjoyed two very good jack off sessions with a buddy. That's where my knowledge stopped. Oh, I knew what queers were. All the guys at school laughed about them. I was just not to the place where I wanted to admit that sort of thing to myself. Looking back, I realize I was so far in the closet I couldn't even find the door.
I was not very pleased, then, when we checked into the room Ronnie and I would share. There was a double bed. One double bed.
I kept my mind off that during the opening sessions that afternoon and, for the most part, during dinner. Ronnie sat opposite me, and I glanced at him now and then. I had been glancing at him ever since school had started. His hair was a very dark brown, his complexion a very attractive darker tone. When he wore short-sleeved shirts to school, I would glance at him as we worked in the same room for the paper, running my eyes quickly over his smooth forearms, wishing he would stretch for something so I could see more of his upper arms. And I was to sleep in the same bed with this... hunk.
He was that. About my height, he outweighed me because of his sturdy but not stocky build. There were obviously muscles on those shoulders, that back, that chest. His waist was slim, but his thighs -- which I could imagine when his pants stretched a bit -- were big and muscular. He was the epitome of boyhood about which I fantacized. Unfortunately, I had jacked off with his image in mind many times. And now I was to share a bed with the boy himself. I was going to have to watch myself very carefully. I could only hope my dick would cooperate. It was getting to the place at school that I sprang a boner far too often.
All five of us walked to a nearby store to look around, then we stopped at a drug store since the girls wanted a couple of magazines. Then we went back to the hotel. We went up the elevator together, and the three females turned to the left to their room. We turned to the right to ours.
It wasn't too awkward when we were alone. That was mostly Ronnie's doing. He was a good conversationalist where I was rather shy, and before long we were rehashing the day. I didn't say a word about going to bed, because I wasn't sure just how preparing for bed would work.
It wasn't long before Ronnie decided to get ready for bed. He stood up to remove his shirt and pants, and in front of me stood the perfect model for the underwear he had on. White briefs and a white undershirt, the ribbed sort with straps over the shoulders. The kind that clings and accents every curve of muscle, the kind that set off a dark-complexioned guy. His briefs held the same kind of treat. They pulled tight enough over his ass that I could see his crack, but not too tight that they robbed his pouch of the material he so obviously needed. His package was an eye-drawing bulge to which I couldn't allow my eyes drawn.
He folded his shirt and pants over a chair and said, "I really need to take a leak." The bathroom was behind me, and he left the door open. I could hear his stream hit the water. I tried not to imagine what was in his hand.
But what could I do? I got rid of my clothes, and when he came back into the room I was wearing exactly the same thing he was - briefs and the ribbed undershirt. But I wasn't wearing it in exactly the way he was; I just wasn't built that way. My turn in the bathroom, but I closed the door.
When I came back in, he was sitting in the same chair where he had been before, his long, muscular legs stretched out to the floor, his arms folded across his chest. I returned to my chair and sat down. Luckily my dick was at rest. We talked some more. We talked quite a bit, in fact. He had a way of making a person relax. He even got me talking about school, family, hopes for the future. I was beginning to feel that I was really getting to know him. And I was certainly enjoying the view.
Then came the test. He announced that he always did some pushups before going to bed. Okay. He dropped down to the floor. Because of the proximity of our chairs, he was prone with his head slightly behind my chair, his shoulders and back immediately next to the chair, and his ass and legs beyond that. He was so close that if I had dropped my right hand it would have landed on his shoulder.
He began a few lifts, and I simply could not take my eyes from that beautiful sight. I watched his shoulders flex and he moved up and down, his biceps straining. He back tensed as he moved, and that shirt accented every single move. His thighs were bare, beautiful, and strong. Best of all, I could watch his ass flex as he pushed up and down. He asked me to count them off. He had to know I was looking. So I sat there and counted, and I would have been happy if he had continued all night. It was a sight I recall in detail to this day.
I don't remember how many he did. It was far too few. But he got up and, standing right in front of me, took several deep breaths. His chest expanded, contracted. I dared to glance at his pouch -- it was practically in front of my face -- and I was certain it was somewhat larger than it had been while we were facing each other and talking. Then he got in bed.
I went to the other side and slid under the covers, being very careful not to get too close. We talked for just a little longer, and I could feel the sheet move as he moved slightly. I lay as still as though I were frozen. The most beautiful boy in school, and I'm lying under the same sheet. What would I have done differently some years later? Quite a lot, as a matter of fact. But at 15, and with such confusion about my sexuality, all I could do then was stay perfectly still.
I don't remember falling asleep, though I lay there awake quite a while. I'm sure he had fallen asleep well before I did. I remember pushing the cover and sheet down sometime during the night, since it was rather warm. Later, I woke suddenly. His leg was over mine. It was raised slightly at the hip, his knee was bent. His knee, in fact, was only slightly below my crotch. It took me fifteen minutes of careful eye movement to determine all that. I didn't move anything else.
Is he asleep? Is he awake? Either could have been the case. Even when he flexed the thigh lying on my thigh, that could have been done in his sleep. But that movement of his caused a movement in me. My cock got hard. Not like it did sometimes in school, but fully, completely, achingly hard.
I hardly breathed. What do I do? Is he looking for a response? What response? If I move, will he accept it as an overture -- if he's awake. Or, if he's not, will I wake him up? I remained frozen. Except for my cock, which pulsed and throbbed with expectation.
Then he moved, but just slightly. He raised his leg to the point that his lower leg crossed my other leg and his thigh was touching my crotch. There could have been no question but that I was hard. I was even beginning to feel a wet spot! His leg moved slightly back and forth, caressing my cockhead within that cotton pouch. I was now pulsing against his thigh. A little sigh escaped my lips before I could stop it.
He rolled over onto his belly, drawing his leg away from me. But in his new position he placed his hand on my thigh -- there was no question but that he was awake now, it was so deliberate. He moved his fingers slightly, and the light hairs on my leg moved with them. The heat of his hand felt so very good. Before I realized what I was doing, I did the very natural thing. I spread my thighs a bit to give him access. His hand stroked up higher and finally reached my pouch. He closed his hand around it, and I heard a sigh from him as he squeezed it lightly.
He began to stroke his fingers up and down my cock as he traced my hard shaft. He moved against me as his hand went higher, to the waistband of my briefs. I shifted down and over a bit as he slid his hand down into my briefs. When his warm hand covered my throbbing cock, there was no longer any doubt. We were both awake, and we both knew what we were doing.
He raised up so he could pull my undershirt over my head. There was very little light in the room, but I could make out the way his body was moving. I took his action as a sign I should do the same, and he sat perfectly still until he needed to raise his arms for me to lift the shirt off him. This was by far the most erotic thing that had ever happened to me.
He turned away from me for a moment and turned the bedside light on. It was not terribly bright, but it seemed so at the time. And I was a little uncomfortable with his seeing me, self-conscious as I was. But I could see him, too. His shoulders turned back toward me, and his arm moved so that his hand could cup my hardon again. He raised up on his knees, moved his hands to the sides of my briefs, hooked his thumbs into my waistband, and began to pull them down. I lifted myself for him, and he pulled them completely off. I lay perfectly still, looking at the beautiful sight above me, as he traced his fingers lightly down my chest, into my pubic hair, and onto my cock.
He barely touched it, stroking lightly with just his fingers. And then he pulled away and lay back down on his back. It was my turn. My hand was actually shaking a bit as I first cupped his package. The heat of it was amazing. I sucked in my breath at its hardness, at the way it seemed to thrust itself up into my hand. And he raised up for me as I lowered and removed his briefs.
It was the most beautiful cock I had ever seen. I had not seen many up close, and only that of my jack off buddy really close, but I had seen enough in the shower at school to appreciate what raised up before me. He was about the same length as me, but he was thicker. Cut, like me. The skin was a pleasingly smooth, dark cover for a muscle that was moving, pulsing, as I gazed at it. There was a single drop of precum in the tiny lip of his cockhead.
I wasn't sure what to do now. He raised up and gently pressed me back onto the bed, moving his head downward as I moved backward. By the time my head was on the pillow, his tongue was at my cock, licking. I gasped loudly. Never, never, never had I ever felt such a sensation. I actually shivered. He licked around my cockhead, probably tasting the precum that had dribbled there. And then I was in his mouth. I moaned. I moaned loudly as I spread my legs wider.
He was sucking slowly, and he slowly took more of my cock into him. I could not believe the silkiness of his mouth, the searing heat of his tongue. He was lowering himself further onto it until I felt my cockhead reach the back of his mouth. He stopped sucking and just held me there. I had heard of cocksucking, of course, but I had no idea it was such an awesome thing. He slowly resumed the sucking while his hands stroked my thighs. I suppose he knew I could not last too long, not the way I had been pulsing. He let my cock slide out for a moment.
He rolled over onto his side, and his hand pulled my thigh so that I rolled over, too. His face was inches from my cock, and I realized mine was that close to his. I knew instinctively what to do. I opened my mouth and took him at the same moment he took me again.
My first taste of cock. I will never forget it. It was at that moment I became a cocksucker for life.
His cockhead was so wet and smooth it slid into my mouth with no effort at all. The skin was so soft, while the muscle beneath it was as hard as steel. And the heat of it! For a moment I just held him there, absorbing the sexual energy this beautiful boy had placed in my mouth.
He had resumed sucking, and I began. What a pleasure to slide my tongue over and around that slick cockhead! What a joy to feel his heat against the inside of my cheeks. I wanted to eat this beautiful thing he had fed me, inhale the intoxicating scent from his balls. I was about as high on sex as I have ever been. And his mouth working on my cock was only urging me on.
He dropped my cock and began to lick my balls. I groaned. And followed suit. I had never imagined licking balls before, hadn't even thought of it, but I was suddenly hungry for them. I knew not to press or pull too hard, of course, but within those constraints moved them around and around. I wanted more of that scent, more of that taste. And without even thinking of what I was doing, I opened my mouth and let one of his balls in. I licked, and was rewarded with a very long moan.
And one of my balls was suddenly engulfed in warm wetness, and he sucked. Such an unbelievable sensation! After a few moments, he dropped my ball and licked all the way around my ballsac. I did the same. We licked and sucked -- cocks, balls -- for a long time. Then he drew away, sat up, and turned around. Moving between my legs and opening them wide enough to make room for him, he lowered his face again onto my cock.
This time he sucked in earnest. He worked my cock first slowly, then faster. He was milking me. It was not very long before I knew I would soon cum. I raised up enough that I could reach his shoulders and began to push him away. He swatted my hands away; he didn't want to pull off. I'm sure he knew I was tensing, that I would pass the point of no return soon.
I had no choice but to lie back. I was panting now; he had to know. My cock was about to explode; he had to know that. He was sucking wildly now, and I was bucking my hips. I couldn't help but thrust myself up to him. I needed it!
And then the dam burst. The tension inside my body moved out and down, my balls did their job, my cock hardened even further -- and I came harder than I had ever cum. Then again. It was heavenly. It was unbelievable. It was ME emptying myself into the beautiful boy. I continued to buck, to shoot, until the sensations subsided. I relaxed completely. I trembled as he sucked more lightly, then licked my cock as he withdrew from me.
He lay beside me. I turned my head and looked at his georgeous chest as he breathed deeply. Now it was my turn, but he was not rushing me. I had tasted my cum before -- privately -- but I had never tasted, let alone swallowed, anyone elses. He had swallowed. I knew I had shot a pretty good load, and he had swallowed it all.
Suddenly I was eager for this new experience, too. I moved over between his legs and lowered my face to the cock I had been tasting. But now I would truly taste it. His cock was still wet from my mouth and his precum. And I didn't hesitate to lick it. I opened my mouth and filled it with that lovely meat I had been eating earlier. Sucking is such a delight. Sucking is one of the most erotic actions a person can make. And sucking on a beautiful cock is one of life's greatest joys.
I lowered my face onto him and sucked him deeper. I moved my tongue around as much as I could. I wanted to give him as much pleasure as he had given me. I pumped in and out quickly, then stopped completely, then resumed more slowly. The second time I did that he groaned so loudly I think it could be heard in the hallway. I continued to alternate that way -- I don't know why. Maybe it was because of the different sensations it produced in my mouth. Maybe it was because those moans assured me I was pleasing him. Maybe it was because, though unexperienced, I was a born cocksucker.
I had no second thoughts at all until I felt him tense. This was his point of no return. How much would he produce? Could I swallow fast enough? How could I keep from choking?
But there was no time for second thoughts. With a huge grunt, his cock exploded, filling my mouth with cum. I couldn't taste it; there was no time. He shot again, and I swallowed immediately. I was ready for the next one, but the one after that came unexpectedly. All I could do was keep sucking, keep swallowing. And with that I knew I loved it. Loved it.
When his cock subsided, I followed his lead and licked it gently, this time tasting the last of his cum. My tongue moved it around in my mouth, over my cheeks, my teeth. It was delicious. There was no question. Salty with a tang that was both bitter and sweet. I loved his cum.
We were both exhausted. I collapsed next to him and tried to calm my breathing. It was then I realized that everything had happened without a word being spoken! Neither one of us had uttered a word! But there was some kind of spell in the room, and I didn't want to break it. At some point I drifted off to sleep.
My first thought on waking: What will he say? What will happen now?
He was already in the shower. I was out of bed, collecting my clothes from last night, and I'd put my briefs back on. I could feel the stiffness of the dried precum. He was wearing briefs and gave me a cheery Good Morning. I went into the shower, came out and dressed, and we went off to breakfast.
It was as though nothing had happened. All day long, in the seminar, at meals, he said nothing about it. He didn't act any differently at all. I was very confused about it. I didn't say anything, either, not certain of just what to say or do.
The second night we talked for a while when we got back to our room. Nothing was unusual. He did his pushups as I watched and counted. And we went to bed. Needless to say, I didn't go to sleep. Within ten minutes I felt his thigh on my leg again. He raised it, caressed my pouch. Everything that had happened the night before. Except that we were a little faster to get to the cocksucking. It was fantastic, perhaps more than the night before. Again, not a word spoken, but obvious pleasure given and received.
The next morning we got up, showered, dressed, packed, and met the others in the lobby for breakfast. We drove for two and a half hours to get home, and he acted as he always had. Smiling, friendly, funny.
For the next two years we worked on the paper, and he graduated the year I was a senior. We worked as well together as we always had. It was as though it had all been a dream. I went on to make other friends (with some of whom I got intimate), but I knew nothing of his social life. I always received the same pleasure watching him move, listening to him speak for those two years. And knowing that within those pants he wore lay a treasure I had touched and tasted.
Years later I found that he had become very successful in the entertainment industry. I have never forgotten him. Ronnie, if you're reading this, know that you are remembered. Know that you helped open a whole new world for a young gay in the closet. Know that I will be forever grateful.