Date: Tue, 04 May 2010 23:09:15 -0400
From: hardreader2000@aol.com
Subject: Jess' Story, Chapter 2

Jess' Story
Chapter 2
From Jess' viewpoint

I was having lunch with a friend of mine named Ann. We'd become friends
during our freshman year. And since most everyone we knew had left campus
for the summer, we'd become closer. Well, what I mean is that we saw more
of each other.

It was only a few weeks into summer session and I was already thinking of
this as my Summer of Masturbation. Everyone I had ever fucked around with,
or even thought about fucking around with, was gone until fall. It was just
me and Ann. And a lot of solo jack-off time.

I was still jacking off the way I had since I was a kid. Rocking up on my
shoulders. Lining my cock up right above my mouth. Licking and sucking on
my cockhead until I shot my load directly into my mouth. With all the
practice I'd been getting lately, I found I could get more and more of my
cock in my mouth. More than I ever had before. The whole head, which felt
so good, and even a little bit of my shaft too. I liked that. I wondered if
maybe my cock was getting longer, but when I measured it was still right at
8 inches.

I liked being able to suck on my cockhead. Feel its heat against my
tongue. Taste what pre-jizz I had as it drizzled from my cocklips. My
pre-jizz was really sweet, even if my cum wasn't nearly as sweet as some
guys I'd tasted.

When I was wound up in myself like that with my cock in my mouth, I could
smell what I really smelled like. What other girls and guys smelled when
they were sucking me. And I have to say, it turned me on. Thinking about
all the mouths that had sucked my cum out, All the times I'd shot. How
they'd tasted me. And even swallowed me. How cool was that!

But I seem to have gotten distracted from my story. Oh, yeah. I was talking
about Ann.

I still remember when I first asked her out on a date. It was the beginning
of the second semester. I don't know why I asked her out. I wasn't really
attracted to her or anything. But we had a creative writing class together
and had started talking to each other fairly regularly after classes.

One day we were talking and I asked her if she wanted to catch a movie or
something that Friday evening. A guy I had been planning to go with had
just cancelled. Anyway Ann said yes and we went.

I thought it was going to be a date, but it wasn't like a date at all. More
like an extension of our discussions after class. We talked about our
writing projects and other kids in the class and the teacher. Stuff like
that. After the movie we got some ice cream and talked some more and I took
her home. I got nothing. Not even a peck on the cheek.

That doesn't happen to me often because I usually make sure I know what the
person I'm with wants from me and I'm clear about what I'd like from
them. I'm not shy about talking about sex, as you can probably tell.

With Ann, the topic never came up. But somehow at the end of the evening I
still expected something. It just didn't happen. That, I figured, was Ann.

It seemed clear to me that we were meant to be friends and that anything
more would only complicate our friendship. After that, we saw each other
regularly for lunch. Occasionally for dinner or a movie. Sometimes I
paid. Sometimes we split it. We never talked about our relationship. It
just was what it was.

Now that it was summer and neither of us had anyone else much to turn to,
we were seeing even more of each other.

So we were at lunch one day and all of a sudden she looked at me very
seriously and asked, "Do you know my friend Paul?" When I didn't answer
immediately, she added, "Paul. He went to high school with me. From my
hometown."

"I don't think so. Is he in one of my classes or something?" I asked.

"No. I just thought maybe you knew him. He's taking two classes here this
summer. He's transferring and needed the hours to stay on schedule to
graduate," she explained.

I started to wonder if maybe she was getting ready to try to set me
up. Then I couldn't remember if she even knew I was "undeclared." I guess
we'd never talked about anything like that. I hadn't told her I liked sex
of all kinds. With all kinds. She probably thought I was just a straight
guy.

As I was trying to remember what she might or might not know about my
sexual orientation, or lack thereof, she said, "We're going out
tonight. Paul and me. Second date."

It was like I had heard each word just fine, but they didn't fit
together. Not in a way that seemed to make sense. Ann? A date? A second
date? I had just completely stopped thinking of her in that way. I guess I
had forgotten that anyone would.

She wasn't ugly or anything. She was good looking in a girl-next-door sort
of way. She was smart and funny. And nice. I liked her. It was just that
since that first night when we went to the movies, I guess I had buried
those kinds of thoughts about her.

I was kind of at a loss for words. "Do you like him?" I finally asked.

"I kinda do. Yeah," she said and looked a little embarrassed.

"So why so shy about it?" I asked.

"I think he's expecting something . . . you know, something more." She
couldn't bring herself to look at me as she strained and stuttered to get
the words out.

I was glad she wasn't looking at me, because I'm not sure I concealed my
surprise at the direction our conversation had suddenly taken. It was
virgin territory for sure. At least for us. But maybe she didn't mean what
I thought she meant.

"Well, do you want to, you know, do something 'more'?" Questions. I was
always good with questions.

There was a long pause and then she finally said, "I really think I like
him . . . a lot."

"So . . . ?" I left the word hanging between us. I have to admit that the
thought of her getting it on even with another guy was kind of turning me
on. Hell, the thought of sex was turning me on. After all, I'd had nothing
but my own devices to get me off for more than a month.

"I don't have a lot of experience dating. My parents made it difficult when
I was in high school . . ." and with those words she started to explain.

It seems she had been quite "smitten" - her word - with Paul in high
school, but her parents didn't "think he was right" for her. So she never
went out with him. I couldn't really tell from what she said whether he had
even asked her out.

They had met again on campus this summer and her interest in him had
quickly rekindled. She had gotten up the nerve to ask him if he wanted to
go out. He called her a day or two later to make more definite plans.

On their first date she had let him kiss her good night "for quite a
while." Her words again. She told me how as she had loosened her hands from
holding him close to her, her hand brushed against . . . How did she put
it?

"As I withdrew my hand from his hip, it accidentally brushed against the
front of his slacks. I could tell that he was extended." I'm pretty sure
that's just about exactly what she said.

Apparently she didn't do anything to help the guy out. She had no
experience whatsoever with such things. And she had worried ever since that
she was going to lose any chance she had with him if she didn't "respond to
his needs" this next time.

"So, you're a guy. Tell me what I should do if it happens again?"

It popped into my head at that moment that Ann could be the answer to my
dream. My nightmare. I could help her and she could help me. I didn't know
exactly how it would work, but I felt confident that it would . . . or at
least that it could.

If I helped her with this problem she was having, she'd have to help me
with mine, I figured. Maybe I could share with her my fears about how
people would react if they knew that I had shared the intimate details of
my life with thousands of guys online.

With a renewed interest in this conversation I eagerly asked, "So what do
you want to do to him?" Again with the questions.

"I just want to make him happy. To have him like me. To . . . you know."
Again she could not bring herself to look at me as she said those words.

I took a deep breath as I gathered my thoughts and then plunged in. "Well,
if your hand should again . . . by accident . . . brush against his
extended . . ." I hesitated myself as I searched for the right
word. Without thinking about it, I let the back of my hand brush against my
crotch. I felt my cock respond. This conversation was starting to turn me
on.

Fortunately, Anne couldn't actually see what I had done because the
tabletop between us blocked her view. But I think she got the idea. I guess
I figured it didn't really matter what she saw me do at this point, so I
kind of brushed my growing cock with the tips of my fingers a few times as
I continued, "If your hand should again brush against his penis, let it
pause there. Just let your hand rest on it for a moment or two. If he
doesn't do anything to show you he's uncomfortable with that" and I'm
thinking fat chance of that, "wrap your fingers around it and hold it. You
can squeeze it gently."

I made an appropriate squeezing gesture on my own cock, which was now
pretty hard and felt good in my hand. I could feel its heat. Its solid
mass. Its throbbing pulse. I was feeling horny.

I had to sort of adjust myself to make more room for my growing cock. Ann
didn't react. I guess she must not have realized what I was doing. She
couldn't see it. Just some movement in my upper arm.

Then thinking more of me than of Ann's would-be boyfriend, I added, "Maybe
stroke it up and down it a little. I think he'd probably like that."

Suddenly I'm wondering what the hell am I doing? This is crazy. I'm sitting
at lunch in public telling this girl, this friend, how to jack a guy
off. And as I tell her, I'm jerking myself off in the seat across from her.

"That's all I need to do?" she asked me so innocently. It was all I could
do not to freak or burst out laughing. But I did great. I stayed in my
good-friend mode.

"Yeah. I think that should do it," I said, trying to extract myself from
this conversation before I came in my pants. I was also trying to think
ahead to how I could move things along so I could suggest that I had
questions to ask her. Questions about my problem.

But the time just didn't seem right and so I figured I could ask her
later. In the end, I just said, "Good luck with that tonight. Let me know
if I was of any help. I hope you're both, you know, happy with the outcum."
I kinda stressed the "cum" part, but I don't think she got the pun.

"Gee, thanks," she said as we prepared to leave and head our separate ways.

Gee? Does anyone say "gee" anymore?

I was standing at the counter to pay our bill. Ann walked up and stood
close behind me. Too close really. I kind of jumped when I felt her warm
breath on my ear. Was she gonna kiss me or what?

I froze. I didn't know what to do. "Jess," she whispered in my ear too
quiet for anyone else to hear, "I hate to ask you this, but do you think
you could show me how? This afternoon? I really want to . . . you know
. . . get it right and everything."

I didn't answer. Hell, I didn't move, or even breathe. But my cock was
suddenly hard again.

"Please!" she begged. My cock twitched. What the hell was going on?

If it wasn't for the dream and my fears and the feeling . . . no it was
more a belief or even a certainty . . . that Ann held some part of the
solution to my dilemma, I could have made up an excuse. Any excuse. And
gotten the hell out of there.

At least that's what my head was saying. My cock was thinking, easy
sex. Easy sex!

I guess I was thinking with my cock again because what I said was, "I'll
see what I can do. What time?"

Even as the words left my mouth, I started to doubt whether Ann could help
me in any real way with my problem. But my cock seemed mighty pleased with
the prospects of what it might mean to help her with her problem.

"3 o'clock at my place would be great," she said and flashed me a big and
very genuine smile before she gave me a little kiss. On my cheek.

As I headed back to my place, I started wondering what the hell had I
gotten myself into. What did Ann expect? Was I supposed to demonstrate what
it's like when a guy . . . hell, when a guy blows his load? Does she know
shit about all this? About any of this? How basic do I have to get? I could
show her videos from some of the porn sites. She's probably completely
clueless about such things. That's what I was thinking.

As I reached my apartment, I started to wonder if maybe, just maybe, she
would possibly . . . Could she want to practice on me? To jerk me off? No,
she just wanted to make sure she understood what to do. What guys like. To
try to understand what it felt like. At least that's what I thought. I
really couldn't quite get my head around Ann jerking anyone off. Certainly
not me. But my cock seemed to have ideas of its own. I gave it a squeeze.

Then it popped into my head that maybe there was no boyfriend. No
Paul. Maybe she was just trying to, you know, have sex with me.

I thought about that and every other possibility I could come up with for
the next two hours until it was time to go. I even thought back to when I
was in high school. How Justin, the only gay kid I knew at the time, had
taught me about such things. Like how to give a good blowjob.

Oh, man, Justin sure did give good head. I loved the way H.R. wrote that
part. I couldn't resist reading it again: "Justin cupped my cock and balls
in both his hands and then leaned forward and started licking. First my
cock and then my balls. Then back to my cock. He was right. He was good at
this. I thought Billy's handjob was nice. This was better.

"I didn't need to tell Justin I liked it. My cock was already telling him
as it stretched out in his hands. Wet with his spittle, he was now gently
stroking my cock, licking it, stroking it. God it was getting hard really
fast. Standing straight up, presenting its sensitive underside to his
tongue, giving him a rock hard column to stroke and lick.

"And then he said, "Ready?" I didn't know what he meant, but before I could
inquire as directed, he had begun to suck on my cockhead, slurping it in
and out between his lips. I looked down and he was looking up, my cockhead
in his smiling lips. His fist wrapped gently around my shaft. His saliva
dripping down around my nuts. I was fascinated by the view. I loved the
sensation.

"He stopped and lifted his head enough so my cock was standing free just in
front of his warm, welcoming lips. "Remember what I'm doing. Go slow. Watch
your teeth that you don't scratch him. Dicks don't like teeth."

"I could feel his breath on my cock as he talked and couldn't resist
leaning forward to get my cock closer to his lips. So this is what blowjobs
were like?

"Then he started again. I gasped.

"Are you going to cum?"

"No," I said. "Not yet."

"Let me know if your gonna cum. That's important."

"And he went back to caressing my cockhead with his lips, stroking my cock
with one hand and now pinching one of my nipples with the other.

"I pulled away suddenly, almost in a panic. "I don't think Billy's gonna go
for this. Maybe a blowjob, but not the stuff with the nips."

"OK," Justin said reassuringly. "You should focus on his dick, if that's
what you think he wants, but don't be afraid to ask him. You might be
surprised."

"I couldn't."

"Justin looked a little discouraged, but then smiled reassuringly. "Just
relax and try to enjoy it. Remember, you're doing this for Billy, not to
Billy. So make it as good as you can. Now relax."

"And he started again, minus the nipple. Before long he started to take my
cock deeper into his mouth. In and out as his tongue played all around my
swollen cock. I could see why guys went crazy for this. I watched as my
cock went deeper into his mouth. I felt my sensitive cockhead being stroked
by the roof of his mouth, caressed by his warm, slippery tongue. It was so
wet. So welcoming. So warm.

"He started to hum gently almost like a cat purring. And I felt the gentle
vibration in my cock. His lips smiled as my hard meat slipped in and
out. In and out. I couldn't resist. The urge was too strong and so I
started to pump my cock deeper. It must have been going down his
throat. That's what I could feel. I was fucking his throat. I could feel
the surge building in my balls. I could sense every muscle in my body
contract.

"Then I exploded with a massive blast of cum. "I'm cumming," I shouted and
shot again and again. I could see Justin swallowing, but still cum was
dribbling from the edges of his mouth. I could see it on his lips. His lips
swollen from sucking on my cock. That was my cum. On Justin's lips. My
cum. His lips. Down his tight throat. Fucking A. So this was being gay.

"As I looked into his eyes, I again had that great view of my still rigid
cock deep between his lips, his smiling face looking up at me. My cum
dripping from his mouth. On his lips.

"He pulled back and my cock stood free. It felt cold in the air out of the
comforting warmth of Justin's mouth."  By the time I finished reading that,
I was so hard. It may seem kinda weird, but reading this had turned me
on. My own story in pretty much my own words with a little help from
H.R. It had gotten me really hard.

As I sat their stroking my aching cock, I began to realize that it wasn't
just remembering what had happened between me and Justin that had gotten me
so hard. It was the idea that we were changing places. I was gonna be the
teacher. I was gonna be the one to show Ann how to give Paul what every guy
needs.

There was something so . . . I don't know. Just the idea that I was gonna
be teaching someone else how to get a guy off was what really turned me on
I think.

As I stroked my cock, all eight rigid inches of it, I started thinking with
my head again. What I should do is make this as good an experience for Ann
as Justin had made it for me? I wasn't quite sure how I was going to make
that happen, but that was my new goal.

And I started telling myself, Whatever happens, it's just sex. You've done
it before and you'll do it again.

To Be Continued . . .

AUTHOR'S NOTE: The characters in this project are real. The names and some
other identifying information in this story have been changed to conceal
the identities of the characters described. The Copyright for this story is
held by Hardreader. The story may not be reprinted or distributed elsewhere
in print, electronically or digitally without the permission of the
author. I would love to receive comments on this story from readers.  Email
me at hardreader2000@aol.com

While you're waiting for the next episode, I hope you'll stay happy. And
stay hard! -- H.R.