This story contains explicit sexual content, graphic language, and situations that some readers may find objectionable. Readers agree that they are age 18 or older.
October, 1993
I’d spent at least one night a month at Jacob’s house since I was a kid. We met in second grade. That’s when his dad lost his job and their fancy house and Jacob and his older brother Eric had moved in five houses down from me. We’d stood at the bus stop together on the first day of school, shivering in the cold morning air. Jacob had held out a roll of Lifesavers. “Want one?” And that was that. We were friends from that morning on.
When we were kids we played a lot of pretend games. I’d be Jane and he’d be Tarzan. Or I’d be Catwoman and he’d be Batman. Sometimes I’d be Strawberry Shortcake and he’d be the Purple Pie Man. Jacob didn’t seem to care that I always wanted to be the girl because that meant he got to be the really cool guy.
Once we were in high school, though, Jacob got quiet about the nights I stayed over at his house. I couldn’t exactly hide the way my hands moved or the way my hips didn’t stay firmly and masculinely immobile when I walked. People noticed and people talked. I felt lucky that Jacob didn’t shun me entirely. Some guys wouldn’t know what to do with a queer best friend.
One cold February night during our senior year in high school, Jacob was asleep in his bed, snoring like he was dead to the world, while I was huddled on the floor in my sleeping bag watching the shadows creep on the walls. I couldn’t sleep. I was too wound up.
Before bed, Jacob had asked me point blank if I was gay, and I’d asked him what he’d do if I was. He’d shrugged, saying, “Make sure to get laid a lot more so that people won’t think I’m queer, too.”
I didn’t answer him, just kind of looked away.
He’d said, “Look, I don’t have a problem with fags. Let’s go to bed. It’s late.”
Then he’d fallen asleep like we’d been talking about sweet and cuddly things like bunny rabbits or girls’ tits, like it was easy to get off to dreamland.
After an hour, I got up, pissed in the hallway bathroom, and decided to head down to the basement to watch some television. Jacob’s house was like my own home. No one would care if I watched some tv when I couldn’t sleep.
The basement door was slightly ajar and I could hear tinny, droning voices. I paused for a minute. Jacob’s parents were out of town for their anniversary, so the noise of the television meant Eric must have come home from his college party. Eric was twenty-one, a little bit of a bastard, attractive in a sweaty sort of way, and I’d been crushing on him for nearly four years. He, however, didn’t think of me as anything other than an annoyance. Just last week, he’d bitched to Jacob about how he didn’t want anything to do with him or his dumbass friends before kicking us out of the basement so he could watch tv alone.
I thought about going back to Jacob’s room to toss and turn some more, but I smelled popcorn. My stomach fluttered nervously as I played the possible scene in my mind’s eye. Me telling Eric I was hungry, him rolling his eyes, huffing, and yet offering me a seat beside him on the sofa and shoving the popcorn bowl my way. If I was lucky, our fingers might even touch in the bowl. So long as I managed to keep from popping wood at that, I could save up the sensation of small, buttery touches for later when I was alone. I took a deep breath and decided that it was worth the risk. The worst he could do would be to tell me to get the hell out.
As I walked down the stairs, I noticed the main lights were off. The basement rec room was lit by just the flicker of the television. I stood on the bottom step for a long minute looking at Eric as I shivered in my boxers and t-shirt. I’d always thought Eric was handsome. With his dark, wavy hair, and chiseled jaw, he’d been the subject of my fantasies since I had first realized how much fun beating off could really be.
Eric turned when I cleared my throat. His handsome face was mostly in shadow and I couldn’t make out his expression.
“What do you want?”
“Can’t sleep,” I said. “And I’m hungry.”
“Huh.” He shoved a handful of popcorn into his mouth, crunching loudly. Then he turned back to the television, the light sliding in long blue-ish pulses over his long straight nose and high cheek bones. I imagined running my fingers over his stubble, so much thicker and darker than my own, and then touching his full lips. I clenched my hands into fists, stilling my arousal before it took over.
He glanced back at me. “You gonna just stand there? Or what?”
I took that as the invitation I’d been hoping for. I crossed to the wide, soft sofa Jacob’s mother had found at Goodwill and had delivered a few years back, and I dropped down on the opposite side. Eric shoved the popcorn bowl at me and I took a handful before he snatched it back. I chewed several pieces and kept my eyes on the screen. A man and a woman on a motorcycle were driving up to a dirty looking motel in the middle of nowhere. My heartbeat against my chest felt strange, like it was loud enough that even Eric might hear it.
I ate more popcorn and tried not to think about the fact that Eric was in just boxers and a t-shirt, too. His jeans were tossed along with his belt into a pile by the foosball table. I wished for a glass of water because the popcorn seemed incredibly salty, and my mouth was too dry, and Eric’s dick was just a few feet and a thin, cotton bit of material away. If I was someone else, if he was someone else, I could reach over and slip my hand through the hole in the front, and touch. I wondered what someone else’s cock would feel like in my palm. More specifically, I wondered what Eric’s cock would feel like. I closed my eyes and concentrated on getting my own to behave.
“Don’t tell my parents we watched this,” Eric warned, eating another handful of popcorn. “It’s Showtime. We aren’t supposed to watch it after ten at night.”
“Why not?”
Eric ignored my question. “You’re eighteen now, right?”
“Yeah?” I swallowed hard, wondering what that had to do with anything.
“So, we’re all adults here. It’s a stupid rule, that’s what I say.” Eric pushed the bowl of popcorn towards me. “More?”
I helped myself to a big handful despite my mouth feeling too dry already. I needed to occupy myself because my stupid prick was not willing to stick to reality. It was off on a fantasy jaunt where it got to be hard for an actual reason–like Eric’s fat dick pulsing in my fist–and not because I was an eighteen year old horny virgin. I determinedly kept my eyes turned away from Eric and his lips, which he kept licking the butter and salt from, and focused on the screen.
The man and woman were inside the hotel now, making some stupid sexy conversation. It looked pretty lame. Then he grabbed her, kissed her, and ripped her blouse open. I groaned softly as her breasts burst forth and the guy mouthed her nipples while she moaned and tossed her hair. Shit, this was not good. Girls weren’t my thing, but sex was sex, and Eric was next to me, and, crap, my boner was not going to let this go.
Worse, I was trapped. If I stood up now, Eric would see. I had to find a way to get my traitorous penis to behave. I closed my eyes, bit my cheek, hoping the pain would lessen the stiffness in my boxers.
“Fuck,” Eric whispered. “Have you ever seen real porn, Tommy? This isn’t even the good stuff. In real porn, you can see their dick and see it going in. Then at the end they come–usually on her face.”
I glanced over at him. He’d shifted down on the sofa. The blue flickering light made his handsome face seem more angled. His t-shirt was rumpled up revealing a strip of skin and a dark trail of hair that led down to the waistband of his boxers. I let my eyes fall, wanting to see if he was hard, wondering if I could tell.
“What are you looking at?”
I jerked, caught. “Nothing.”
Eric laughed softly. “Yeah, right.”
I focused my eyes back on the screen.
The girl looked like she was going down on the guy now, but the shot was set up in such a way that I couldn’t see any details. My hand was salty from the popcorn so I ran it over my shirt. I felt Eric’s eyes on me. I wanted to prove to him that I hadn’t been looking at his crotch so I stared hard at the movie.
“Ever done that?” Eric asked, suddenly. “Nah, of course you haven’t.”
I watched as the woman’s head moved up and down, up and down, and the guy’s face scrunched up with pleasure.
“I’ve done it.”
I desperately wanted to look at Eric, but I kept my head facing the tv. My mind presented me with half a dozen girls I’d seen Eric with over the years. I wondered which ones had their mouth on his cock.
“Yeah?” I managed.
“Yeah, sucked a friend’s dick. Even swallowed his come.”
I didn’t know what to say. I blinked stupidly at the woman and man who were now rutting against each other on screen. Part of me wondered if it was a joke, if Eric was trying to get me to react so that he could make fun of me, or even beat me up. I stayed still, my thoughts rushing like wind, and my heart pounding in my throat.
“We did more, too.”
I shifted and didn’t look at him. My cock was so hard that I felt lightheaded. This couldn’t be happening. Eric couldn’t be saying these things. And yet he was and I was hard, and I knew because I could just feel it–Eric was hard, too. I gave in and shifted my dick a little with one hand. It just made it worse. Now I wanted to grip it for real and do something crazy like shove Eric all the way down, stand up beside him, and jerk off on his face like he’d said they do in real porn.
It was nearly impossible to keep my eyes away from him. I wanted so badly to see his face, to know if he was fucking with me or not. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Don’t play dumb with me.”
“No, really, why?” I felt shaky inside like I’d huffed paint or downed a liter of Coke.
“You’re a fag, Tommy. You’re a cocksucker–even if you’ve never sucked cock. You know it. I know it.”
My heart was going to explode. I stared at him, my mouth open. Finally, I whispered, “And what are you?”
Eric snorted softly. “Does it matter? Right now, I’m a guy who wants you to suck my dick.”
I licked my lips. I imagined moving across the endless expanse of couch between us, shoving down Eric’s boxers, and running my tongue over the head of his cock. I pushed myself off the sofa, shaking and twitchy. “I should get back to bed. Jacob might miss me.”
“He’d sleep through a fucking tornado.”
But that was Eric’s only attempt to keep me there. I made it upstairs and crawled into my sleeping bag with a throbbing hard-on and thoughts of Eric that I couldn’t put out of my head. Eventually, I had to make my way back to the bathroom to relieve my problem. But within a few minutes, it just sprang back up.
For the next few weeks I spent most of the day, every day, kicking myself for not having had the balls to take Eric up on his offer. Why hadn’t I taken my chance? Worse, Jacob was busy for awhile with a family wedding and then a funeral. I started to feel like I would lose my mind if I didn’t get the opportunity to see Eric again soon.
When Jacob asked me to stay the night at his house three weeks later, I was alternately despondent and ecstatic. I knew I’d missed my one opportunity with Eric, but I couldn’t help hoping there’d be a repeat of the offer. But what if there wasn’t? What if it had just been the movie and the particular night, and what if Eric never asked me to touch him again?
Friday night was interminable. I tried to be interested in the movies that Jacob had rented for us, but I had to stop myself at least ten times from asking whether or not Eric would be home.
“What is up with you?” Jacob asked between movies. “You’re weird lately.”
“Nothing.”
“Fuck that. I’m not interested in a girly discussion of our feelings, but you’re acting like a total weirdo lately. You keep looking at the door like you want to be anywhere but here.”
“No. No, that’s not it.” I sighed and ran a hand in my hair. “Jacob…Jake…here’s the thing. I almost got laid. But then I didn’t.”
Jacob’s eyebrows did a really interesting thing which could easily be translated as, “Fuck, I don’t think I want to know.” What he said was, “When? Who?”
“I messed it up. It doesn’t matter. I’ll die a virgin now.”
“Nah, you’re a decent looking guy, I mean, objectively and all. A little scrawny, but I hear that’s a popular look on a gay guy. Next year in college you’ll be fighting the dudes off with a stick probably. Or rubbing your stick with their sticks. Or whatever.” He looked uncomfortable. “‘Good pep talk, Jake. I feel better now, Jake. No need to talk about my dick and other dicks now Jake. You’re a good friend, Jake’,” he said.
I smiled. “Yeah, you’re a good friend.”
We were in the middle of watching Return of the Living Dead when Eric stomped down to the basement. He looked amazing in tight, black jeans that hugged his ass just right and a green henley that brought out his green eyes. I stared at him and heard myself swallow.
Jacob looked over at me with a weird expression, but then turned back to the television.
Eric crossed his arms over his chest and declared, “The basement is my space on the weekends.”
Jacob flipped him the bird.
I got up my nerve to catch Eric’s eye, but he’d already turned away. Instead, I watched his ass as he stomped back upstairs, muttering under his breath.
“Thinks he’s so fucking great since he got a car. Fuck him,” Jacob said irritably, passing me some more M&Ms. Still, when the movie was over, Jacob turned the t.v. off and stood up, stretching. “Come on. Let’s go to bed. He’ll be down here bitching at us if we don’t.”
I stretched too, my stomach twisted in nervous knots. I followed Jacob up the stairs, passing Eric in the kitchen. He was reading a book at the kitchen table and eating a bowl of ice cream. He didn’t even look up.
In Jacob’s room, we got ready for bed. Jacob made a few comments about a girl at school he liked but I couldn’t really pay attention.
“I’m gonna dream of Sylvia’s tits right up in my face.”
“All right then. Do it and don’t talk about it.”
“Faggot.”
“Pussy-eater.”
Jacob laughed a little. Then the room was silent save for Jacob’s smooth breaths and my thundering heartbeat.
I was terrified that Jacob wasn’t really asleep, so I waited until he hadn’t moved for almost an half an hour. I crept out of bed and past Jacob’s parents’ bedroom. His father snored loudly, and his mother slept with ear plugs because of it. Jacob and I had taken advantage of that more than once to sneak out at night. Usually, we just took a walk around the neighborhood to feel like we were getting away with something. But tonight I was glad they both slept so soundly.
I headed down the hallway to the basement door. It was shut this time, but I opened it anyway and then pulled it closed again behind me. I tried to be as quiet as possible on the stairs, telling myself that I could still turn back so long as Eric didn’t know I had ever come down to begin with. But I knew there was no way in hell I was going to leave that basement without at least seeing if I could reverse course from last time. I desperately wanted another chance to see Eric’s dick.
The television showed more Showtime soft-core porn and Eric lay sprawled out on the couch. I stood on the bottom step getting up my nerve. I didn’t have to wait long.
“Are you gonna just stand there?” Eric’s voice was gruff, and he seemed impatient, like maybe he’d been waiting for awhile.
I walked toward him. It felt like I was moving really slowly and super fast at once. My hands didn’t know what to do with themselves. Like they had a life of their own, they fluttered up to rub my neck, then down to my sides, then up again. When I finally stood next to the couch, I crossed my arms over my chest just to still them.
“Hey,” Eric said. His voice was almost soft and completely lacking the big-brother-snot-faced attitude he usually used towards me. “You okay?”
“Um, couldn’t sleep.” I felt my swallow catch and I was annoyed with myself. I’d planned to tell him exactly what I wanted as soon as I saw him, but somehow I’d said this instead.
“Sit down.” He patted a bit of couch just next to his hip. He didn’t sit up and he didn’t make more room.
I sat, turned sideways so I could see his face. He smiled at me and I relaxed a little, letting out the breath I’d been holding. We stared at each other for what seemed like forever. His eyes green-flecked and looked darker than usual in the light of the tv. His lips were open, a wet line on the bottom where he’d licked just as I’d sat down. His dark hair fell onto his forehead in a way that made me itch to reach out and brush it back, but I kept still.
“Have you ever touched another guy’s dick, Tommy?” he asked. He sounded strangely tender, and he reached out to touch my cheek. His fingers were a little rough from his work in his dad’s landscaping business. I leaned into the sensation.
“No.”
“Do you want to touch mine?”
I blinked. It seemed an almost juvenile question like I was a five year old asking to see his if I showed him mine. “Yes,” I whispered.
His fingers slid along my cheek in a gentle back and forth sweep. He kept doing that, a soothing, sweet gesture, as he took hold of my right hand with his other. His palm was warm and a little damp, his fingers big and blunt, but his hold was gentle. He moved my hand to cover the long, thick bulge in his sweatpants. He pressed it there for a moment, then he let go of my face to shove his sweatpants down to his hips. I stared at his rosy, cut dick jutting out from dark, curly pubic hair.
“Like it?” he asked.
I nodded and slowly I put my palm on top of his hard cock. I stared at it for a long time. His dick under my hand, the soft skin under my fingers, the thick head pearled with a drop of pre-come already. I wrapped my fingers around it experimentally, and Eric held onto my wrist.
“That’s good. That’s hot,” he said. “Now touch my balls. Come on, feel ’em.”
I slid my hand down, letting go of the velvety shaft and ran the tips of my fingers over his sac. I felt the balls shift and the skin pull up, growing tighter.
“That’s good, Tommy. Now jerk me off like you would yourself.”
I couldn’t look away from my hand on Eric’s dick. It seemed surreal. I was touching another guy. I was holding his penis and stroking it while he encouraged me. My own cock was so hard that I had to grab it with my free hand and squeeze to relieve the ache.
I finally glanced up at Eric’s face, licking my lips, and wanting to kiss him. But he hadn’t said anything about kissing. He hadn’t made a move to touch me, really. Nothing beyond the initial caresses and the move to put my hand on his dick. His dilated eyes met mine. “Suck it, Tommy. Suck me off.”
I opened my mouth and started to ask for a kiss. Instead, I leaned down and ran my tongue over the head of his cock, tasting what he’d leaked while I stroked him. I sucked him in, just the head, and marveled at the soft skin against my tongue, the weight on my bottom lip, the way Eric’s cock seemed to fill not only my mouth but my entire awareness. I held myself still until he shifted, lifting his hips up for me to take more.
“That’s it, Tommy. Put your hand around the base. Use it to help. Oh, fuck, yeah.”
I pumped my fist up and down as I sucked. It was messy, and I felt my teeth graze over skin a few times, but quickly corrected it. Eric groaned and put a hand on top of my head, a steady weight to encourage me. My cock ached and I jerked it in rhythm to my sucks. I was loud, too–lots of wet, slick sounds and gagging, but Eric didn’t seem to mind, adding to it all with his own soft curses and moans. I didn’t know if I was any good at it, but I clearly didn’t totally botch the job because Eric rolled his head back and forth on the sofa, dug the heel of his free hand into his right eye and clenched all over. I took every response from him as encouragement, and even when I thought I’d come myself because I was so turned on and excited, I kept going until Eric said, “Be a man, Tommy. Swallow it. Swallow it all.”
And he grabbed my hair in his fists, thrust into my mouth, and shot.
I gagged, but I did my best, the grip of his hands in my hair teaching me to please him. I swallowed a lot of it, just a little dribbled out of my mouth and down his cock into his dark pubic hair.
Eric’s hands gentled then, moving in my hair, stroking softly. Eric’s cock throbbed gently in my mouth. I held him there, moving my tongue against the shaft.
“Pull off,” he whispered eventually. “Careful. It’s too much now.”
I let go and he jerked his sweats back up. He put a hand over his eyes for a minute and breathed. I sat still next to him, not even jerking myself anymore as I watched him. My heart banged against my ribs, and my cock was so hard that I felt like I’d edged over from aroused to being in pain. Also, my back ached from hunching over. I tasted the briny aftertaste of his come and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand.
Eric stirred, moving over to make some room beside him. “Here. Lay down. ”
I felt mad with my unsatisfied lust, high, and accomplished somehow, too, like I’d run a marathon. I moved in beside him, and he put one arm around my shoulders. I held very still afraid that he’d change his mind now that he’d gotten off. I watched as his other hand slid down my boxers. My breath caught as he took hold of my cock and started to jerk me off.
“Eric?” I asked, wanting to just hear something from him, anything at all.
“Shh, Tommy. Let me get you taken care of. You’ll like it. I promise.”
I knew I’d like it. Hell, I fucking loved it. My hips moved of their own accord and my cock thrust into Eric’s warm, calloused palm. He held me and jerked my dick until I was shaking. I desperately wanted a kiss, but didn’t know how to ask.
Instead, I said, “I’m gonna–”
I came. I came so hard that I cried out and Eric’s hand clamped over my mouth to muffle the sound. I squirmed and bucked, come smacking me in the face, and covering Eric’s knuckles where he kept on stroking me even once I was writhing and whimpering for him to stop.
“Want every last bit,” he muttered, and then finally withdrew his hand, kissing the top of my head.
It was over and I on the couch trying to catch my breath, Eric used his own shirt to wipe away the come. He ran his hand over the length of my body affectionately, and then kissed my mouth with a soft, lingering press of his full lips. I reached up to hold him in place, wanting open-mouthed and more.
He chuckled and pulled away without giving me what I wanted. “Next time I’ll suck you.”
“Next time?”
“Sure. Why not?”
I didn’t see any reason why we couldn’t do it again right now, but Eric sat up and picked up the remote for the tv. It was clear that sex was over for the night. But he’d said next time.
“See ya later, Tommy. Better get back upstairs before Jacob misses you.”
I stood up dizzily, my heart still pounding, and I wobbled as I walked to the stairs. I paused and looked at the side of Eric’s handsome face in the flickering blue light. I resisted the urge to ask him when the next time would be. He didn’t turn to watch me leave.
“See ya,” I echoed as I made my way upstairs.
“See ya,” he echoed, and I thought he sounded a little wistful and for a second I thought he might call me back to him. But he didn’t, and I went back upstairs to my cold sleeping back on the floor no longer a virgin, and with a promise of ‘next time’.
— first in a series of shorts featuring Tommy & Eric, a free short story by Leta Blake. Copyright 2012.
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