Date: Sun, 01 Mar 2009 22:37:16 -0500
From: hardreader2000@aol.com
Subject: I Thought I Knew -- Chapter 1

This is the story of three real guys I have gotten to know quite well
recently. Each has told me his story from his point of view. I have taken
their versions and woven them into a single story for you. There may be
slight differences from one chapter to the next because no two people, let
alone three people, see or remember things exactly the same. Now relax and
enjoy the story and, of course, let me know what you think.

Chapter 1

From Billy's viewpoint

I thought I knew everything about Jess. I'd known him forever. We went to
school together through high school. We'd always been close friends. Now it
was our senior year in high school and you'd think by that point you'd know
everything about your best bud. But suddenly I wasn't so sure.

It was Tuesday just after school let out. I'd started walking home with
some friends, wondering where Jess was. We always walked home together.
Then I remembered a history book I'd left in my locker and so I hustled
back to school. As I headed toward my locker, I saw two guys talking, their
heads real close together like they wanted to make sure no one could hear
what they said. I was almost certain one of them was Jess, but the other
one I couldn't be positive about.

As I got closer, Jess must have heard my footsteps. He looked up. I was
pretty sure he said, "See you tomorrow night," to the other guy. Then he
turned toward me and smiled as though he was glad to see me. The other guy
hurried past me and out of the building. I felt that I'd seen him before.

"Hi," I said. "Who was that?"

"Oh, just a junior who wanted to talk to me about some project he's working
on. I didn't really understand what it was all about and told him I didn't
think I could help him with it. He said a friend had told him I knew a lot
about whatever it was, but I didn't."

It sounded like too much of an answer to me. You come to know when your
best bud is bullshitting, covering up. Fuck, call a spade a spade. I was
pretty sure he was lying.

It didn't make a lot of sense to me, but Jess had just been talking to a
guy I'm certain everyone knew was one of the school's better known fags.
Cool jocks like Jess didn't talk to fags. Even though I didn't really see
his face, I think I know a fag when I see one. And this was one I'd seen
before.

So Jess was chatting up a fag, plus he was bullshitting me about it. I
wondered what was going on, but decided not to push it. Not just then.

* * *

Later that evening, Jess and I were in his room, where we hung out a lot,
listening to music, studying, talking sports, whatever.

He'd been bitching for about ten minutes about how tough swim practice had
been Monday night. Lap after lap after lap. I was getting real tired of his
bitching.

"Man, sure it's hard work," I said. "But look at your abs, your chest.
Heck, even look at my abs, which aren't half as good as yours. It's worth
the effort. Chicks eat up bods like ours."

"You really think I've got that great a body?" Jess asked, sounding truly
surprised by the thought.

"Fuck, yeah. It's fantastic!" I said sarcastically. I was exasperated with
him. And really pissed at him, too, for bullshitting me earlier that day
and now for his moaning about swim practice. Good fucking god! It was swim
practice. It was supposed to be tough.

But I think he only heard the words, not really understanding just how I
was feeling at the moment. He lifted his T-shirt and looked down at his
tight, tanned abs. He ran one hand lightly across his hard six-pack, which
truly was a sight to behold. I'd seen them plenty of times before, but I
couldn't help but look at them again. They were getting better and better.
And, fuck, he was showing them off for me. So I looked. OK, maybe I looked
too long. What else was I supposed to be doing?

"You really like them?" Jess asked. There was a new seriousness in his
voice.

There must have been some sort of major shift in the conversation that I'd
missed. My best bud sounded like he really wanted to know if I liked his
abs. This was what he wanted to talk about? His abs? Looking at his fucking
abs?

"So what's this about?" I asked. "Do I like your abs? I told you they're
great. What are you getting at?"

Finally he sensed my frustration and pulled down his shirt. He looked
embarrassed. We both sat silently for a few moments and then he looked into
his lap and said, "I don't know. I just wondered if you ever admired guys'
bodies. You know, appreciate the hard work they put in to get so tight, so
hard. What I mean is, do they look good to you? Or do . . .  I mean, do
. . .  do . . ." and he just stammered. "I don't know what I'm talking
about. I'm just tired and babbling and stupid and . . . shit . . . Let's
call it a night."

Jess was so red in the face, embarrassed as hell. He was a smart guy, going
to college, had his head together. He was always at the top of his game.
And suddenly here he was completely out of it, babbling on about his abs
and looking like he was so confused. He looked panicked. Trapped. Scared. I
really thought he might cry.

I guess I felt sorry for him. He was my best bud and I thought somehow I
was responsible for whatever was wrong. And something was certainly wrong.

"Just lay back and relax," I said. "It's OK." Of course, I didn't know what
"it" was and I sure as fuck didn't know if "it" was "OK". I just wanted
Jess to calm down, to be himself. This was starting to freak me out.

So we were quiet for a while, just listening to music and trying to breath
easy. When I sensed the crisis had passed, I asked, "OK?"

"OK," he said.

I kept trying to piece things together in my head. To make some sense of
where this evening had gone off track. And before I thought it through, I'd
said, "Does all of this have anything to do with you talking to that fag
guy at school today?"

"What? I wasn't talking to any fags. I was just talking to Justin about his
project. He wanted help and I told him no. He's not a fag, is he? I mean, I
think I've heard some people say they thought he might be, but didn't he go
out with what's her name to some dance. I mean I've seen him with girls. I
don't think he's gay."

This was bullshit upon bullshit. I was fucking pissed off all over again,
but trying hard not to show it because Jess, my best bud Jess, was really
struggling here and I didn't have a clue why.

"So why are you so defensive about it? OK, so maybe Justin isn't gay. I
know he never sucked my dick. So just relax. It's just that I saw you
talking to him earlier and you seemed sort of, I don't know, like
embarrassed when I came up. And now you seem sort of embarrassed again.
And, let's face it, you're not an easily embarrassed kind of guy. I mean
I've seen you in some pretty kinky situations and you were never even a bit
embarrassed. Caught bare assed. Caught with your dick hanging out. Caught
with your big hard cock stuffed in Susan's mouth. Caught . . . Man you have
been caught so many fucking times before," and I started to laugh just
thinking of all the shit Jess and I had done together.

"Remember the time I came in your room without knocking and . . ."

He knew the story as well as I did and within seconds Jess started to
laugh, too.

The mood was broken. We were laughing and bullshitting and remembering a
lot of good times. And then I headed home.

* * *

I was lying on my bed kind of confused by what had happened with Jess and
my mind drifted back over the years. It was remembering one of those
moments Jess had been caught. I'd walked in his room without knocking. I
never knocked back then.

There he was with his dick in his hand. I recall being surprised because it
was a lot bigger than I remembered it being when I'd seen it in the
changing room after swim class the summer before. And it was hard, pointing
straight up.

He looked at me. Freaked. What could he do? Say? And then he got a big
shit-eating grin on his face, looked so cool staring straight into my
eyes. It was then I first heard what would come to be his trademark
phrase. "So, how do you like it?" That was Jess. Caught so red-handed you
just had to let it go. Caught like that, he'd act so natural and cool. Let
everyone think the world was going his way and, as far as he was concerned,
you could get on or you could get off. He could care less. He was cool with
it the way it was.

And being young and idolizing Jess the way I did, I wasn't going to let him
see me rattled. So I just said, "It's cool. And big!"

"Isn't yours getting big yet?" he asked.

"Yeah, but not like yours." I was shaking inside, but trying so fucking
hard to look cool for Jess.

"You wanna show me?"

I was just wearing track shorts on my skinny-ass body. I let them drop.

"It looks bigger to me," he said, raising his eyebrows in admiration.

I was so pleased. It was important to me that I please Jess. Jess liked my
cock. He could tell it was getting bigger. "I can make it even bigger," I
said.

"I bet you can," he said with a smirk.

I remembered those next moments as if it were yesterday. I'd played with
myself before, but never with anyone else around. I was scared, but trying
not to show it. Not wanting Jess to know.

But when Jess was done cumming and he looked me straight in the eye with
his shit-eating grin, I knew it was all good shit. And then he asked so
coolly, "So how do you like it?"

Suddenly I thought I was going to pee. I started to panic. And then, before
I knew what was happening, I was done, too. My first cum.

 I looked over at Jess and he looked at me. We were two hot guys.

* * *

There I was remembering my first time. Remembering the feel. The power.
Having my hard cock in my hand for the first time. The smell of fresh
cum. And once again cum, lots and lots of cum, was running down my hand,
lubing my big hard eight-inch cock. It was my cock. My 18-year-old
throbbing, aching, hard-as-ever cock. The sensation of cumming had only
gotten better and better as month by month I could tell my loads were
getting bigger and bigger. More intense. And I loved how it felt. The
aching build-up in my balls, the surge of power through my hardened
cock. The amazing release as cum poured out of my cockhead. So warm and
slick and . . . I just stroked my cum-drenched hand up and down my dick. I
was done cumming at last, but my meat still felt great with my favorite
hand wrapped around it.

I loved to cum, but truth be told, I leaked so much pre-cum and came so
much it could be a problem cleaning up. But, what the fuck, it felt so
good.

I lay there as my sperm cooled and started to run down my side. Finally I
rolled over, feeling the cooled cum gluing me to my already badly
cum-stained sheet. And so I drifted off to sleep in my own private puddle
of cum. It was nothing new. I'd been doing it for years.

To Be Continued . . .

AUTHOR"S NOTE: The names and some other identifying information in this
story has 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 without the permission of the
author. I would love to received comments on this story from readers at
hardreader2000@aol.com