Date: Sun, 22 Mar 2015 04:51:09 +0000 (UTC)
From: Demitiri Symone <demitirik@yahoo.com>
Subject: Dumb Jock 5

Disclaimer - The usual warnings apply here, don't read if you're underage
or squeamish. Sex is definitely involved here and please don't try to
pass this off as your own.

If you have any questions, comments or just want to talk feel free to
email me at demitirik@yahoo.com. And donate to Nifty! Your contributions
keep the archive free.


      You know that feeling of waking up and feeling like your life has
finally reached a point where you're totally and happily satisfied? You
wake up with a smile, not because you have to plaster one all day but
because you're just that damn insufferably happy. You have this bubbly aura
around you that everyone notices and it makes people more intrigued by you,
they talk to you more, they want to hang out with you and become a part of
your life.

      Now do you know what it's like to only see that happening to someone
else? That would be Stephen and I. He gets the attention and whistles and
winks, he gets the hot girls hitting on him and the hot guys awkwardly
flirting with him, he gets his fucking frappe at Starbucks upgraded to the
bigger size for no extra price and me? I get shit. I'm sure this reads as
me being angry and that's because I am. What's so damn special about him
but not me? Don't get me wrong, I love Stephen dearly but I'm jealous, very
jealous. I don't understand how we can walk around campus holding hands and
the world acts like I don't even exist, they can't even shift their eyes to
my presence. I bet it'd be all eyes on me if I poured bleach in that
fuckers face cream wouldn't it? I would never do that, though. It's beneath
me. Chemical warfare is best left to children.

      "Kiss me," I say to my knight in shining funk as he awakens. And he
does, of course. I think in some weird way I control Stephen, he just isn't
aware of it. He's always running to my every call, he never intentionally
hurts me or makes any mistakes, he's always extra charming around me, he
makes it a habit to photograph and remember any event between us for
memorial sakes, he's like textbook perfect boyfriend material. Too bad it's
all a giant act.

      I've seen the cracks and a small part of me wants them exposed to see
what he's really like. I've seen him bite his lip instead of just going in
for the argument with me, I've seen him get noticeably agitated but quickly
shaking it off to not seem bothered by my actions, I know he's putting up a
front with me. However, I can't be too mad because I'm basically doing the
same with him. That's what we are, two people playing with each other out
of fear of the unknown. He thinks I'm an angel, a sweetheart, one of the
kindest gentlest guys ever. I know I'm a vindictive, manipulative, jealous,
bitter cunt from hell. And I know he's a brutish, archaic, arrogant,
domineering asshole. And I want that side of him so, so bad. Sometimes
it'll come out during sex but that's it, any other time he's so carefully
tiptoeing around me, he's my big dick ballerina. I think I'll make that his
name in my phone, `Big Dick Ballerina' equipped with that purple cucumber
emoji thing and a wink face too.

      I followed my big dick ballerina into the shower and just stood
hugging him from behind as the steaming hot water cascaded over us. I
always like those sexual moments where nothing sexual really happens. I
just rubbed my hands over his hard abs and played with his hair, I teased
him with neck kisses and little ear nibbles but I had no intentions of
going farther than this. I just wanted to appreciate his ridiculously
amazing body. Being with him made everything seem like nothing more than
background noise.

      Did he know how I truly, deeply felt about him? I've never told him I
loved him but he had to know right? I mean, there aren't any other guys
here that I'm willing to blow in a movie theatre or drink 6 bottles of
water in 3 hours just so my ass would be clean for him to plow me. I work
so hard for him... he can see it right? He can, so why doesn't he ever say
fucking thank you?

      I could feel anger take over me but it melted away the moment his
soft hands glided against my smooth ass. His fingers gently poking at my
hole, I know he wanted me. And I wanted him too. I want to ring this man
dry of every fluid in his body, I want him to be a hollow shell to only be
filled with my likes and dislikes. He needs to be forged to my fancy. My
man. He'd never see it coming either.

"I don't want to have sex," I tell him in a whisper.  "We don't even have
to, I just want to feel your beautiful body."

	And that he did. He ran his tongue from my neck to the crack of my
ass with one hand squeezing my cheeks together and the other hand fondling
my wet balls. It all felt so good, his warm breath heating my skin, his wet
hair slapping against me with his sudden motions, he knew all my pleasure
points. He knew how to tickle my stomach in the right way to make me quiver
against the wall like a wounded schoolboy. He knew how much pressure to
apply when he choked my while staring deep into my eyes. He knew how to
slip just one finger inside my tender asshole with no need for lube and
still make it pleasurable. He knew my entire damn body.

	There was a small part of me that wanted to get my ass turned
inside out but he pretty much did that yesterday while Daniel watched us. I
knew that nerd would love that shit. How? Because he wants me too. For now,
he'll just have to wait in the shadows but I wouldn't be opposed to giving
him a quick lay, I wonder if he's a virgin. He probably told me is and I
just forgot. My train of thought was immediately knocked off the rails when
my body got hit with what was basically a glacier. Turns out of if someone
flushes the toilet (Daniel) the water goes shit cold. Should I ask him to
join us?

	I'm afraid I'm beginning to come off as a bit of a sociopath
here. I hope that isn't the case, I don't think there's anything inherently
wrong or bad about what I do, ultimately I'm just trying to make people
happier. There's nothing sociopathic in that simple act is there?

	I dried my tall, chiseled stud off and quietly hummed a random tune
as I walked him out of the bathroom hand in hand. We were going out to
dinner tonight, the entire gang actually. He picked out my outfit (it was
terrible but I just dealt with it) and now it was my turn to stroll over to
his closet in his room and pick out something nice for him. As we stepped
inside his twin Ronnie was sprawled out on his bed looking like he was
about to overdose. His eyes were fully open but his entire body was just
still. It was creepy as hell.

"Ron!" Stephen shouted at him.  "Oh shit, sorry I was daydreaming hard as
hell. Today is so boring I wish we could just go now."  "Well too bad we're
not," I replied.  "Don't act tough because your boy is here, don't forget
what happened in this room on your first night."  "I didn't forget, why do
you think he's my boyfriend?" Ooh what a good sassy remark that was.
"Speaking of boyfriend, what's going on with you and Jake, Ronnie?"

	What? Ronnie and Jake? How long has this been happening and why am
I just now finding out about it?!

"He's too fucking sketchy. Every time I try to hang out with him he'll have
some excuse or whatever and basically tonight is going to be the first time
we hang out."  "Sounds like he afraid of getting some dick," Stephen
responded. I screamed inside.  "He is, we trade pics on snapchat a lot and
he always says some shit like `I'm gonna split him in two.'"  "Well you are
aren't you? I mean shit, have you seen that ass on him? Kid is crazy."
"Why were you checking out his ass?" I innocently asked.  "I'm a guy, it's
what we do. Nothing wrong with checking someone out. It's not like I have
any intentions of doing anything with him, so you have nothing to worry
about dear," he said giving me a kiss on the forehead, like some little
child.

	Don't you love when your mate says that, though? `Oh I have no
intentions!' I don't give a damn about intentions. Why is it so hard for
men to keep it in their damn pants and only concern themselves over what
they already have? Sure, some people might say that there's nothing wrong
with a peek, or glance, or whatever you want to call it but the fact that
Stephen has gotten enough peeks and glances to speak so highly of Jake's
ass just doesn't sit right with me. But I'll just suck it up and flash my
pearly smile, allowing him to think everything is okay. After all, that's
the kind of guy I am for now, aren't I? The kind that just smiles with
terrified eyes whenever my boyfriend does something I don't like but I
don't want to upset him because I have no idea what he's capable of and I
don't want to be alone. That's not really good for me but oh well, I do it
anyway.

	I just go back to picking out his clothes but it was rather anyway
since almost everything in this closet is the same. White shirt with random
words or labels or colors, light blue jeans, medium blue jeans, dark blue
jeans, brown shoes, white shoes, black shoes, blue shoes, red hat, white
hat, green hat (why?), blue hat. I hate men with no fashion. At least take
some pride in how you appear to the world. Oh, I forgot Stephen doesn't
have that problem. He has this natural aura that makes people just
gravitate to him even if he was wearing a garbage bag decorated with the
shit of any random homeless guy up the block.

"So, Ronnie, when did you and Jake start talking?"  "Sometime last week."
"And you two are already exchanging nudes? That was pretty fast."  "Yea,
that's definitely worse than some guy losing his virginity to twins he
literally just met that day."  "He got you there, real good too!" Stephen
exclaimed, giving his brother a high five as they laughed.

	I didn't have a witty rebuttal to that so I just kept my mouth
shut. No need to exchange in immature insults when I can squash his little
crush on Jake in what will surely take no time. That's one thing I was
always rather good at, ending people. How do you think I was so immensely
loved and popular back in high school? I had those idiots eating out of my
hand, and anyone who tried to cross me I turned into mincemeat. There was
this one kid named Chuck, he transferred over in sophomore year and at
first he use to really get under my skin. See, Check knew I was gay. He
spotted it out the first day we met and he even told me several times when
we'd be in the locker room alone that one day he was going to fuck the shit
out of me. Of course, I would always tell him to piss off but secretly I
loved it.

	Then there was one day in particular where he crept up behind me,
slapped my ass and started saying some extremely hot things in my ear. I
wanted it so bad, I needed him inside me but I was not out the closet and I
refused to let him drag me out against my terms. I told Chuck to choke me,
to dig his nails deep into my back and make me his bitch. I told Chuck to
dominate me and turn me into the school bottom, he thought he finally
conquered me. I heard the locker door squeak open and in that instant I
grabbed Chuck's arm, twisted myself down to the floor and screamed as if I
was giving birth. Two days later Chuck was expelled from the school and
sent to juvie on sexual assault charges. The love for me in that school
shot through the roof, poor innocent little Bryan, nobody can keep their
hands off him. I was kind of sad, no not because I sent an innocent guy to
juvie, but because he knew me. The fact that he was able to disengage me so
easily infuriated me, I don't want people to have that sort of control over
me.

	That's a control that I allow only myself to wield. And then
there's Stephen standing beside me. Hands on my hips just hugging me,
simple moments like this kind of take me out of my daze and make me realize
I have someone special. Someone incredible. My incredible guy.

	Mine.