Date: Fri, 1 Jun 2001 05:55:22 -0700
From: webcurator Author <webcurator@my-deja.com>
Subject: Bobby Big and Tight - Ch. 2

Bobby Big and Tight - Ch. 2

Preface: This is the continuation of a true story.  It involves a friend
and me and happened two years ago when we were seniors in high school. Both
of us were eighteen at the time. If descriptions of teen sexuality bothers
you or offends you, please read no further.


I.

It had been three days since our return from Maine and Bobby and I had yet
to speak. I wouldn't say that we were ignoring each other, as we were both
busy with track and school, but it was clear that neither of us were
actively pursuing a conversation either.

Just last Friday, a playful wrestle between us had turned into a hardcore
gay sex act that caught us both by surprise and embarrassment. I felt that
the best way to deal with it was to ignore it.

On Thursday, however, I got a note from Bobby in my locker - "I'm gonna
drink some beer tonight and give you a call at nine o'clock," the note
read.

I was excited and scared at the same time. Part of me hoped he would say
that our "episode" together was all a mistake and could we just forget it.
Another part of me really hoped that he'd say he wanted it to happen again
and would I come over.

"Maybe I am a queer," I wondered.


II.

I told my mom I was going to study up in my bedroom and then go to bed. I
had two shots of Jim Beam from a bottle I kept hidden beneath some old
baseball cards. It tasted awful and I thought I'd puke, but I didn't want
to be too sober if he was going to be drunk when he called. It wasn't long
before I started feeling well-buzzed and soon the phone rang.

It was ten minutes before nine.

"I got it mom," I yelled.

"Hey, if it isn't my partner in crime," Bobby said from the other end of
the line.

"Hey, how are you? Your ten minutes early," I teased.

"Well, I wanted to get this over with before I fell asleep or passed out,"
Bobby laughed. "I've been drinking beer since six o'clock."

"So, what's up?" I asked a bit nervously.

"Well, right to it then," Bobby answered. I could tell he was nervous,
despite his obviously impaired speech. "Listen, my friend, I'm no fag and I
don't think you are either. I like tits and pussy, and want as much of it
as I can get, but, and this important, I like getting-off and getting-off a
lot. And I always thought that if I had a friend that liked getting his
rocks off a lot also that it would be kind of perfect, you know what I
mean? A little pussy here and there for real, but with a guy friend who was
willing to help out, there would be no dry spells, understand?"

"Yeah, I guess. Kind of like a friend who was a 'whore bag'," I said.

"Yeah, kind of like that." Bobby said, "But a whore that was still a
friend, because that's the important part, you know?  A friend that was
willing to try new things and not get caught up in all that emotional
relationship shit that girls get caught up in. If I want to call you and be
bold and crazy about physical stuff, I think its okay if you as a friend is
there with me."

I thought it was funny that just a couple of days ago I had swallowed this
guy's jizz and that he let me fuck him in the ass, and now all this prude
could bring himself to say was "physical stuff".

I asked him, "But what if someone at school finds out, they'd think we were
homos?"

Bobby shot back, "Don't worry about it, no one will find out and nobody
would believe it even if they saw it with their own eyes. I barely believe
it myself and I was there. No body will find out, I promise."

"So what's next?" I asked him.

"Nothing, let's just see what happens. I wanted to let you know that I'm
not a gay but that I had fun the other night, okay? Does that freak you
out?" Bobby asked.

"No, no it doesn't freak me out, I'm guess I'm still kind of in shock about
the whole thing, but its okay with me if it is okay with you." I said
truthfully.

"Good, I'm glad we talked about this 'cause I don't want things to get
weird between us." Bobby said. "I'll talk to you tomorrow", and Bobby hung
up the phone.

I sat at the edge of my bed, replaying the conversation again and again in
my mind and wondered what I had actually agreed to.


III.

I saw Bobby the next day right after lunch. He was with Maureen, a girl
that he had dated off and on and who I once French kissed while they were
going out. Bobby didn't know about our kiss but Maureen and I had grown
closer on account of this little indiscretion.

"Bobby, what's up for the weekend?" I asked.  I could feel the secret
between us weighing heavily upon each word I spoke.

"Not too, much. Maureen and I going to the movies tomorrow, and will
probably just get a pizza tonight. Want to join us?" Bobby suggested with a
smile.

"No, that's alright.  I think Scott and I might hang and play Nintendo," I
lied.

Bobby said, "That sounds cool, have fun". And he was off down the hall with
Maureen.

But he turned back quickly and said, "Hey, why don't you come over and
watch the Yankees on Sunday, my folks are at the Shore again".

"Sounds good, I'll be there when the game starts." I answered as he turned
the corner in the hall.

Did I notice that he was a bit nervous talking to me? Probably not, but if
he was is that a good sign or a bad sign and what difference did it make?

I didn't know what to make of it all, but I was kind of excited about
Sunday and that concerned me greatly.

IV.

We had been watching the Yanks game for a couple of innings when Bobby went
to the kitchen for more beer. While he was gone, I thought of his folks who
spent a lot of time at the shore and how Bobby seemed to spend way too much
time alone than was proper for a guy his age. My parents, for instance,
would never, ever, leave me alone for so long as a single night for fear
I'd accidentally set fire to myself or the house.

Not only did Bobby's parents spend weekends away, but they would do things
like leave on Thursday evenings and return Tuesday morning for work.  It
didn't seem to bother Bobby much, but it bothered me that he didn't have
the same kind of parents I had. Maybe this all had something to do with
Bobby's continuous need for positive feedback of the physical kind.

Bobby returned with the beer and said, "So...this game is boring, let's go
upstairs for a while."

I had expected him to say something to get things going at some point, but
really didn't know how he was going to do it. I had decided before arriving
that I wasn't going to say anything about it unless he did. Should I really
go upstairs with him, I thought?

I simply responded, "OK."

We took our beers in hand and began walking upstairs in silence.

How did I get myself into this, I thought. When did I get so passive about
my own sex life? Was it simply because I was tired of the games that had to
be played when dealing with girls? As I guy, I always felt the pressure was
on me to get sex going. With Bobby, it felt different. He was in charge and
it didn't bother me a bit.  Or maybe it made me feel less like a fag since
I wasn't really initiating anything.

I could have thought about this stuff all day long, but now we were
entering his room and the time for deep thoughts had passed.

Bobby turned to me when he reached the middle of the room and said,
"Maureen didn't feel like making out last night so I kind of struck
out. Now might be a good time to see if our idea works."

I knew exactly what he meant. He was horny and he wanted me to help get him
off.

"Well, if you think you need to, then fine," I responded, again, trying to
make Bobby the decision maker, and I merely a tag-along.

Bobby moved to the side of the bed saying, "Let's sit here."

I crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed and he sat next to me. We
both wore very baggy shorts and our bare thighs touched. Bobby reached over
and started to rub the front of shorts with the palm of his hand. I sat
there, again frozen, like the first time he had touched me just a week
before. I was instantly hard and Bobby was soon stroking me through my
shorts.

He slid off the bed and took to a kneeling position on the floor in front
of me. He moved to unsnap my shorts and unzipped the fly. He grabbed the
waist band of my shorts and boxers and yanked them down together. I raised
my butt to allow them to fall off and on to the floor.

I felt very naked now as Bobby was still clothed and I, sitting on his bed,
without a stitch. He gently took my balls in his hand and bent to lick them
as though he were holding water he'd scooped from a stream. He licked and
rolled my nuts around in his hands. My cock was so hard it was almost
painful.

He began to use his tongue up and down the front of my shaft until is
glistened with a mixture of his saliva and my precum. Instinctually, I lay
backward on to the bed and Bobby guided my legs onto his wide, strapping
shoulders.

>From this position Bobby went back to working on my balls and,
surprisingly, he began to use his tongue on that small space that stretched
between my ball sack and my anus. He not only licked it this stretch of
skin, but pressed his tongue hard onto the flesh there, pressing against a
pleasure point I had never known existed.

He breathed on my hole, but didn't lick it, saving all his contact for the
area closer to my balls. I wanted nothing more to reach out and grab the
back of his head and force his tongue into my asshole, but I controlled
myself for fear that he may reject the overture.

Bobby took my legs down of his shoulders and he joined me on the bed. He
curled himself up beside me and took my cock in his mouth. I tried to move
him into a "69" position so I could reciprocate these pleasures, but he
refused, saying softly, "Relax".

It wasn't more than a minute until I felt an orgasm welling up in side
me. I grabbed onto his hair tightly and lifted my hips. Just as I was to
come, Bobby forced his finger deep into my butt and I screamed out, "Oh my
God", as I shot my load.

My head was swirling and could barely breathe as I shook my head back and
forth on the pillow. I could hear Bobby swallowing and I could feel the
suction of his swallows on the top of dick even as he continued to finger
fuck me faster and faster.

The cum that Bobby didn't swallow was spit out onto my balls and spread
down into the crack of my ass. He rubbed the sperm slowly between my cheeks
for a good long time. I spread my legs a bit to give him deeper access and
he took advantage of the space to push the cum deeper into my rear.

As I lie enjoying the anal massage, Bobby leaned forward and said softly in
my ear, "Jon, I want to fuck you."

My legs closed a bit as an unconscious reflex.

It was moment that I feared might come and I had already decided what my
answer would be.

"Bobby," I said, "I don't think so, you're way too big for me. It wouldn't
work."

He was a bit taken aback, and was visibly upset and his expression changed
to one of annoyance.

It suddenly dawned on me, clear as day, that this wonderful blowjob,
sack-licking, and anal rub was just a setup for him to fuck me. I felt like
a girl on prom night, primed with beer and kisses and roses all for the
purpose of a fuckfest in the back seat.

Now, I was annoyed.

I wanted to tell him that getting off was one thing, but doing something
dangerous like shoving an eight plus inch cock up my ass was all together
different. I tried to hide my annoyance.

"Bobby, I think it would be fine if yours wasn't so big. It's not about you
or us. I'm afraid of what would happen and we don't even know what were
doing,"

I was just saying words to fill up the silence.

Bobby stretched out on the bed and sighed.

I leaned over and undid his fly, reached in and pulled out his massive
hog. It was bigger than I had remembered from the previous week, probably
because it has literally and figuratively "come between us". It was now an
enemy.

I took the cock in my mouth and sucked and stroked.  Even though it was
just the second time I'd been with a guy, the bad mood between Bobby and me
made the blowjob as routine as my own private beat-off sessions.

After a minute or too, I could feel Bobby's breathing quicken and I knew he
was cumming.

I misjudged a bit and began swallowing to late. I gagged and had to take
the spewing dick out of my mouth.

It was a mess.

His thick prick continued to lob chunks of load onto my lips and eyes, but
mostly it dripped and splattered on his t-shirt and shorts.

I tried to make up for it by sucking and licking what jizz was left on his
cock.

But Bobby just raised his head and said sarcastically, "Great, now I have
to change, asshole."

I got dressed and went home, dreading the coming school week.

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