Date: Tue, 14 Jul 2009 12:27:25 -0500
From: peter johnson <peter2817@live.com>
Subject: Hamlet

This story contains acts of a sexual nature between two consenting
males. If this offends you, please leave this page now.

As always, comments and suggestions are extremely welcome!


				  Hamlet


  It was Saturday, and the school was empty as I walked down the hallway.
Most of the lights were off; the place was empty, except for the cast of
"Hamlet," which was building the show's set in the auditorium, just like
every other pre-show Saturday. I didn't mind--working on the set was
something fun to do on slow weekend afternoons. I got to hang out with
friends and use power tools; what more could I want?
  I reached the auditorium and greeted our director, Brady; she was short
and fat and treated life like it was a Shakespearean tragedy. She told me
to head on into the guys' dressing room and help Ben pick out paint for
Gertrude's closet. He and I were to spend most of the day working on and,
hopefully, finishing that particular piece of set. I followed her
instructions and met Ben in the dressing room, which was connected to a
hallway on stage left, right next to the girls' dressing room. He was
staring at the tall cabinet filled with every imaginable type of cheap
paint that took up the right wall of the room when I entered.
  "Have you found the paint Brady wanted yet?" I asked.
  "Nah," Ben replied, sounding slightly exasperated. "I've shown her, like,
four different shades of green already. We might have to mix our own."
  The drama program at our school was not the stereotypical drama program,
filled with effeminate boys and melodramatic girls, and Ben and I were
prime examples of that. Ben was short but well-built, with long, curly,
brown hair. A wrestler and a runner, he was completely masculine. I was
6'2" with short, blonde hair and a constant five-o'-clock shadow. A soccer
player and a good student, I was just as far from the stereotypical drama
nerd as Ben was.
  "Ah, fuck it," Ben said, grabbing two different shades of green. "Let's
just mix these two and start painting before Brady can tell us the color's
wrong."
  I laughed and said, "Sounds good to me."
  Ben and I carried the paints, as well as a mixing pan and paint rollers,
behind the stage and into a side hallway, where the piece we would be
painting was ready and waiting. The hallway was empty except for Ben and I;
there were so few actors and so many things to do, it wasn't uncommon for
kids to break up into small groups of two or three and not see anyone else
for the rest of the day. I liked this setup--it allowed me to get to know
my fellow cast members better. I was already good friends with Ben,
however; he'd been in every play I had. He was a senior this year, and I
was a junior, so we'd had years to get to know each other.
  We cracked open the paint cans and poured some of each color into the
mixing pan, stirring them together. Once they'd been satisfactorily blended
into a single shade of green, we each dipped a roller in and went to work
covering the set piece in green.
  "So, how do you think the show's going?" I asked Ben.
  "Eh, it's going okay," he replied. "I mean, everyone's doing pretty well,
but it's getting kinda late for people to still be reading off of their
scripts, you know what I mean?"
  "Yeah, I totally agree," I said, standing on a stool and reaching as high
as I could to cover the uppermost part of Gertrude's wall. "Do you have
your lines memorized yet?
  "Of course I do," Ben said in a mock-conceited voice. He knelt down to
paint the bottom-left corner of the wall and asked, "How about you?"
  "Yeah, I've had them down ever since--" I began, and then was cut short
as I leaned to far. I crashed down from the stool and stepped on the edge
of the paint pan, splattering paint everywhere. Luckily, the paint didn't
splash on the set piece we were working on. Unluckily, it did splash all
over Ben and I, covering us from head to foot.
  "Fuck!" Ben exclaimed, standing up and wiping paint off of his face.
  "Oh shit, I'm so sorry man, I was just trying to get to the corner by
leaning over you," I said, beating myself up for being so careless.
  Ben looked at his clothes, was silent for a moment, then began to
laugh. He looked up at me, still laughing. I couldn't help laughing, too;
he looked ridiculous.
  "Come on, let's go try and get cleaned up," Ben said. "If we rinse our
clothes while the paint is still wet, maybe we can get it all out."
  I followed Ben a short way down the hallway to the boys' bathroom, then
followed him inside. We headed straight for the sinks; they were near the
door on the right. After the sinks, urinals lined the right wall and stalls
the left. Large mirrors sat on the wall above each of the two sinks.
  "Ok, man, we should get our clothes under some water right away," Ben
said. "No one's gonna come in here, right? I think we might be the only
guys here today."
  "Um, yeah, I guess," I said, confused. "Why does that matter?"
  "Because we're gonna have to take our clothes off to get them in the
sink, dumbass," he said jokingly as he slipped his flip-flops off and began
to peel off his shirt. "Here, you take that one, and I'll take this one,"
he said, indicating the two sinks.
  "Oh, duh," I said, and walked to the nearest sink. I turned on the faucet
and glanced over at Ben. Even though we'd been in numerous plays together,
I'd somehow managed never to have a costume change at the same time as him,
so I'd never seen him less than fully clothed. Now that I was seeing him
strip, I couldn't seem to stop staring at his body. I'd never thought of
myself as gay, but I found myself wanting to wash the paint off of Ben just
so I could run my hands over his perfect chest. He had muscular pecs topped
by pert, pink nipples, and a smooth, chiseled stomach. I even noticed his
arms for the first time; they were so strong and masculine, ending in big,
rough hands. He bent over to slide his shorts to the ground, and I found
myself admiring his thick calves and thighs as well. I could see the
outline of his as through the thin layer of cotton that was his plaid
boxers; it looked firm and tight, sticking out slightly from the rest of
his body. I had seen plenty of naked guys before--I was, after all, on the
soccer team--but none had ever aroused me like this; my cock was definitely
starting to grow a bit. I was so enchanted by Ben's body that I didn't even
notice that there was no water running from the faucet in front of me. I
was only snapped back to reality when Ben looked up at me and spoke.
  "Hey, I think your sink's busted," he said. I tried toggling both handles
back and forth, but nothing came out. "Here, we can just share this one.
You'd better get those shorts off, though, or you won't get that paint
out. Your shirt, too."
  I nodded, still somewhat in a daze from seeing Ben nearly naked, and
moved over next to Ben. As I pulled my paint-soaked shirt over my head, my
arm brushed against Ben's bare chest, sending tingles through my body. I
held my shirt under the running water, shoulder to shoulder with Ben,
trying to concentrate on washing the paint out. Remembering that I was
still wearing my shorts and that with every second, the paint was settling
deeper into my clothing, I unbuttoned and unzipped my shorts. I glanced at
Ben; I definitely did not want him to know that I'd gotten wood from
looking at him. He was intent on working the paint out of his shirt and
shorts, though, so I tried to quickly slide my shorts to the floor without
drawing any attention from Ben.
  That didn't work out so well; as I was pulling my shorts down, my elbow
somehow ended up in Ben's crotch. It didn't just graze the fabric,
either--my arm rubbed pretty firmly down the whole length of his cock. Ben
jumped; the touch hadn't been hard enough to hurt, but it had definitely
gotten his attention. He looked over at me just as my cock reached full
mast, seriously tenting my boxers; the feel of Ben's soft dick on my arm
had sent me over the edge.
  "What are doing, man?" Ben asked, laughing a little. "Trying to feel me
up?"
  I laughed, too, and said, "Sorry, I was just takin' my shorts off." I
held them up as if they would prove that I hadn't touched him on purpose.
  He glanced down at my tenting boxers, but ignored them. He just smiled
and said, "Well, you've gotta be careful with that, bro--you could've done
some serious damage if you'd hit any harder."
  After that, we both just went back to washing our clothes. I was
surprised that he hadn't made a crack about my boner--most high school guys
would have. The fact that he was a friend of mine didn't explain it--in
fact, I would've expected him to be more mocking for that reason. I
couldn't figure it out.
  As I was contemplating this, I accidentally dropped my shirt out of the
sink. As I crouched down to pick it up, my face came to the level of Ben's
bulging, boxer-clad crotch. I stole a quick peek and noticed that Ben had
quite a sizable package--he filled out his boxers well. I also noticed that
there was green paint just to the left of the fly.
  "Hey, I think some paint soaked through your shorts and into your
boxers," I said, straightening up.
  Ben looked down at his crotch and said, "Oh, shit. Now I'm gonna have to
wash those, too."
  I gulped; Ben was about to get completely naked in front of me. I already
had a raging hard-on; I would lose all self control if I caught a glimpse
of his bare cock. I would end up having to wash something other than paint
off of my boxers.
  As I was worrying, Ben was hooking his thumbs into his thumbs into the
waistband of his boxers. Then he stopped. "I think you have some paint on
yours, too," he said.
  I glanced down at my boxers; I was trying to make the tent less
conspicuous by sandwiching it between my body and the sink. Despite this,
my boxers were bulging more than normal, and a big splotch of green was
visible just under the waistband. I gulped again; not only was Ben about to
be completely naked and standing close enough for me to touch, I was going
to be completely naked, too.
  As I prepared to take off my last piece of clothing, I looked back at
Ben. As I watched, he slid his boxers to the floor. My eyes followed his
hands, drinking in the strong musculature of his legs. Finally, I looked
back at his package, now unfettered by clothing, and realized why he hadn't
made fun of my boner earlier: he was hard, too.
  He wasn't rock hard, like I was, but he was getting there. And his cock
was just as beautiful as the rest of his body. It wasn't unusually long,
but it was relatively thick and perfectly shaped. His pink head topped a
smooth shaft, and below the shaft hung a juicy set of hairless balls. He
had a small patch of neatly trimmed pubes above his package. My own member
throbbed with lust.
  And then it was my turn to strip. I unpinned my boner and slipped my
boxers off as quickly as possible, tossing them in the sink with the rest
of our clothes. I looked back at Ben; he was staring at my throbbing
hard-on. I was slightly longer than him but about as thick, with a large
set of balls below and a neat patch of pubes above.
  "Damn, dude, you're big," he said appreciatively.
  I chuckled nervously and said, "You're not so bad yourself." Then,
jokingly, "I'm still bigger, though."
  "Whoah, whoah, whoah," Ben said, playing along. "I'm not totally
hard. And obviously, you are." He nodded at my crotch.
  "Well, let's give it a few seconds, and then we can compare," I said,
still joking and staring at Ben's meat. Even as I was saying this, his cock
obviously reached its full length, standing perpendicular to his body.
  "Ok, let's go, man," Ben said, and aimed his cock at me. Not sure of what
to do, I faced him as well.
  Suddenly, Ben reached out and grabbed my dick, pulling me toward him. I
almost collapsed as pleasure shot through my cock and then through my
body. Ben almost laughed at this, but contained himself.
  "Since we don't have any rulers--" Ben began, then trailed off as he
lined his hard cock up next to mine. Soon, our members were side by side,
skin to skin. It was obvious that I was a little longer then Ben, but I
didn't care--I was reveling in the feel of his soft, warm meat on mine, his
big, rough hand holding our cocks.
  "I guess you do have met beat," Ben said, still gripping our dicks. He
looked at my face, and I must have been unable to hide how much I was
enjoying just the feel of his hand and cock on me. He smiled and said, "You
like that?"
  I began to shrug, preparing to say something witty, when Ben slid his
manly hand up our shafts. The feelings that pulsed through me were
indescribable, and it was all I could do to moan and nod. Ben smiled again
and continued to slide his up and down our rods, rubbing them against each
other in the process. I was in heaven--I had never felt anything so
indescribably amazing.
  As I was lost in waves of pleasure, Ben asked, "Have you ever done
anything like this before?"
  I managed to say, "No." Then, my curiosity piqued, I asked, "Have you?"
  Ben ignored my question and asked, "Do you like it?"
  All I could say was, "Yes."
  Ben stopped rubbing us and let go of our cocks. "What's wrong?" I asked.
  Again, Ben ignored my question. Instead of answering, he slowly knelt
down on the floor and grasped the base of my painfully hard rod. He looked
up at my face and grinned, as if asking permission. I just rested my hand
on the back of his head.
  That was all the permission he needed. My dick was soon engulfed in in
warm wetness. The feeling of insurmountable ecstasy I'd felt earlier was
nothing compared to what I now felt. Ben's tongue swirled around my head
and his warm lips slid up and down my shaft--it was obvious he'd done this
before. I held onto Ben's head for support, twining my fingers in his
hair. I found myself gently guiding his head with my hand, too--not that he
needed much guidance. I felt Ben's hands roaming over my body: my taught
thighs, my flat stomach, even occasionally my hard nipples.
  As I felt the beginnings of an unbelievable orgasm, Ben pulled his head
off of my cock and stood up. Seeing the question in my eyes, he said,
"Trust me, this is gonna be just as hot." Then, Ben pulled his tight body
close to mine, sandwiching our meat together between our flat stomachs. He
ground his hips into me, rubbing our rods together and sending waves of
pleasure washing through me. I mimicked his motions, doubling the
pleasure. I had never been this aroused in my life; the feel of Ben's dick
on mine, his warm, muscular body pressing against me, his rough hands now
gripping and squeezing my ass, and the sexy, satisfied grin on Ben's face
all had me unbearably horny.
  Soon, I couldn't take it anymore and said, "Dude, I'm gonna bust."
  "Do it, man," he said. "Shoot all over us."
  And I did just that. My balls tightened and my dick spasmed, shooting
load after load of thick, sticky jizz between us. I felt Ben's cock
contract, too, and soon his sperm was mingling with mine, coating both of
our stomachs and rods. The pleasure was immeasurable and seemed to last
forever. Finally, though, my intense orgasm subsided, and I stayed pressed
against Ben as he finished unloading his balls.
  When Ben was finished, we pulled apart. Our cocks were completely coated
in cum, as were our stomachs. "Well, at least we're in the bathroom," Ben
said with a grin. "Easy cleanup."
  I just laughed and grabbed some paper towel.