Date: Tue, 9 Oct 2012 10:56:49 +0100 (BST) From: Tom James <tom_james@rocketmail.com> Subject: My Chemical Romance (Part 1) - Gay Male This story contains graphic descriptions of gay sex, features profanity and drug use. If you live in a backwards part of the world, or think you might take offence, please do not continue reading. The characters contained within this story are entirely fictional (wink) and should be taken as such. Any resemblance to any person(s) living or dead is entirely and shockingly coincidental. Remember, drugs are bad Mmmkay - and always practice safer sex. ****************************************************************************** I guess you'll be wanting to know what I look like. So for those that haven't seen me sprawled out in janitors cupboards or nodding off on webcam I'm Tom, but my friends call me TJ (more on that later). I'm 6ft 3, but I'm not a big guy, I go pretty unnoticed in school. I'm fairly skinny - but not in the sinewy way, I don't really have any definition at all. Some people call me lanky but I don't think I have the arms for that (those gorilla arms properly lanky people have). I'm half scandinavian, I have pale skin and very light ash-blond hair, blonde eyebrows, blonde everything. Yes - the carpets match the drapes. In fairness I don't have much hair except a little under my arm pits and my balls and above my dick which is a respectable six-inches. I call it my straight-six because it's poker straight, from the base to the tip (and thickish I guess) unlike most of the ones I've seen that have a slight curve in them or a big bulbous head. I masturbate most mornings and every evening before bed. Sometimes if I'm bored in class I might go to the bathroom and have one in there. I think about doing it at my desk and maybe being caught and the ridicule that I might have to endure and it turns me on but I don't really have the stones to go through with it. I worry sometimes that I'm addicted, they say 14 year olds masturbate all the time, like it's a new toy. I get that - but I worry I should have grown out of it by now. It's like my balls are always running on empty, I've worked out how to bring myself off with precision intensity, sitting in a bathroom stall or on my bed (I can't stand up to do it) my legs shaking, my eyes rolling to the back of my head like I'm having a seizure - I'll lose all control. I've figured out just what I need to do to make my orgasm last as long as possible and I love it. I say my friends call me TJ but I don't have a huge group of them, a little posse of freaks I guess, my friends in choir, my friends in advanced math including my best friend Nicole. I work hard, I get good grades. I'm a responsible son and I'm gay. My mom doesn't know, at least I don't think she does (I never met my dad so he definitely doesn't know), at school it's a different matter because, though I've never said anything, they all seemed to have known before me. No one seems to mind though. My friends don't bring it up and generic 'cool' kids, the ones that go to parties and drink or smoke - they're not particularly mean to me. The girls ignore me but the guys joke around with me, like they're trying to turn me on or prove that I'm gay or that I fancy them, they might flash me in the locker room, or smack my behind or occasionally grope me - or once one of them groped themselves and then put their hand in my face, but they don't bully me so much. In bio once, my teacher decided on a random tangent to remind the class that only vaginas have natural lube and so in case any of us wanted to try anal sex, extra thick condoms and lots of lube were recommended. I got the sneaking (glaringly obvious) suspicion that was for my benefit. Just to give you a taste of my ridiculous life. ****************************************************************************************** Chapter 1. Meet Cute. "Congratulations" said my choir master, handing me the small box, inside which contained my music colours, "and tipped for head boy next year no doubt." The rest of the group clapped earnestly as I took the badge and gratefully pinned it to my school jumper. (I should explain that colours are rewarded for an achievement in academia, sport, music and so on. They came in the form of a little badge; in this case a small black oval with an enamelled gold Treble Clef). "Hurry or you'll be late for your next period" he added, we all packed our things and got ready to leave, a couple of people extending congratulations to me. These are my third colours, including form captain and a gold merit badge. It puts me in a select club of rewarded students, including Prefects, all of whom can be easily divided into two: The diligent ones who earned through learning and the others, who earned theirs through sport and status, not that there was a right or wrong way to earn an achievement. There was no better proof for this than George Oakley. Head boy, whom I'm thought to be replacing next year and who I would pass every Wednesday on my way from choir to double english. He was definitely one of the cooler kids, whose colours included Swimming and Hockey and we would always exchange a gentle nod, out of politeness or mutual respect for a coloured colleague I guess. This time I got a little something extra... 'Nice colours' I saw him mouth as he wondered by. George Oakley, the stuff that dreams are made of. Older than me by one year and just as tall (which is a must) but with a much nicer body from swimming, soft dark brown hair and brilliant green eyes - the kind of boy who plays the hot son in every American drama show ever. The one you always think about. 'Nice colours' - That was all I needed. Double-English meant a convenient time to take a bathroom break and 'crank' one out. I would pretend he was in the same bathroom, perhaps he would walk in on me, hearing me gasp or the gentle patter of my wrist stroking feverishly with my hardon - 'nice colours' became 'nice dick' or maybe even...'get on your knees and swallow this' - I think if he found out what we'd done in my head, he'd stop exchanging pleasantries with me, no matter how subtle they were. Oh well, a guy can dream can't he? "Movie night on Friday? Nicole offered. My closest friend and confident and the girl I shared a table with in English. We sat at the back, not because we were cool, but because our teacher Miss Benn knew we could be trusted (more troublesome students like Harry Lemler were seated at the front). "I don't think I can!" "But we always watch movies on Friday night!" She pulled a hurt look. "Alright, but I want to go do something first" I hoped that she would stop pulling that ridiculous face. "Sure, can I come?" and then after a moment, "what are you doing?". She posed it like she thought she knew the answer, tiptoeing around my reply in case the answer was I'd met someone - she'd be devastated. "I wanted to go watch the swim meet" I muttered. I know for a fact that's what I said, but regardless, she heard what I meant. "You slut! You want to go watch that douche George Oakley in his speedos! You're such a pervert!" "Miss Roberts?" called the teacher, "Anything you'd like to share with us?" "Sorry Miss Benn", and then, dropping to a whisper, "It's never going to happen! I've got more chance of sleeping with you." I chuckle and she looks offended. "Maybe I can change his mind" I suggest. "He's dating Rosie Lee and everyone knows she's a slag, there is nothing you can offer that she hasn't" "What about" I'm about to suggest anal, but I realise I'm not sure how to phrase it. Not that it matters because the look on her face says she knows exactly what I was about to say." "Honey please, she was giving that bad boy up at 12 - she's probably offering up ears and nostrils now!" "But what if he's curious" "Fine we'll go to the meet" she says, resolute. "Hmm, bi-curious George" We LOL'd. - Come Friday, freshly wanked and even more freshly dressed (in what I considered to be my sexiest outfit), I returned to school at six to watch the Meet. Nicole and I grab seats front and centre and I begin to realise the error of my outfit. "Now I know why they only wear Speedos, it's so hot in here," she shouted. "What if I get really sweaty and he sees," a hint of nervousness in my voice. "Then you'll have a marginally smaller chance of sleeping with him than you have now darling" she offered reassuringly, "but trust me hun, i've done the maths on this and the percentages are fractional - I've got a chart somewhere." The swimmers emerged from the far side of the hall, through small doors that otherwise lead to the changing rooms. I grabbed Nicole's arm in excitement! There he was, looking smooth and muscular and hot as ever with little freckly shoulders and soft defined abs leading all the way down to a bulge in his pants that made my head spin, stomach flip and my penis slowly begin to inflate. I could definitely make out his dick, that pointed straight towards his thigh and two heavy balls. I'm sitting, surrounded by maybe 100 people and I have an erection, I wonder if anyone can tell... "You pervert" Nicole smacked me around the head. "Don't do that!" I cried, grabbing my head, "That hurt! Oh my God, did you see that?" George's eyes scanned the crowd as his team lined up against the wall on the far side, he caught my eye and the faintest smile spread across his lips before he sticks his tongue out. "What does that mean?" I ask. "It can't have been for you, honey!" said Nic, "Where's Rosie Bitchface, she's got to be here somewhere", she scanned the hall, "Fuck me!" "What?" I peered around trying to see her. She wasn't anywhere. "Why would he stick his tongue out at you?" Before she could finish the thought her phone bleated and, checking the text. "Fuck! I have to go and babysit Derek!" Her face dropped. "Oh..." I said, nervous of where this might be leading. "Do you want to come...oh who the fuck am I kidding, stay, perve on unavailable men. Text me when you're coming over, I'm thinking a Patrick Swayze and Keanu bromance seems about right." I smiled and waved her off, turning back to see George now beaming at me unashamedly. "Stay here" he mouthed - or at least that's what I thought he said, his hand gestures confirmed it. "I"m not going anywhere" I shouted, before realising that A, no one could hear a word over the crowd and B, it sounded incredibly gay, "OK," I mouthed back. -- Sport, for me anyway, is usually dull. But seeing your dream man, practically naked and glistening with water surrounded by equally naked guys, I was fairly solid throughout. We won overall and George won a gold for Butterfly, my future trophy husband accepting a little trophy of his own before he and the rest of the team disappeared back into the changing rooms and the crowds began to leave. I didn't text Nicole straight away, instead I sat on my own in the hall for half an hour thinking, like an idiot, that he might have come and found me, what was I thinking? ...That he would have come found me, told me that the shower was awfully lonely and would I like to come and join him, that's what I was thinking... He didn't and the janitor was asking me to leave and I was cringing like a jilted date. I got up and walked outside. The place was empty, I had just sat there while everyone left like a moron. I grabbed my phone to text Nicole, nearly walking straight into the path of an oncoming car. "Hey!" came a voice from with in, "Need a lift?" It was George in his little silver Ford Fiesta. "No, i'm OK. Thanks though" What was I saying - if George Oakley offers you a lift you take it! If he offers you cyanide you take it!! "Get in, you practically live next door!" was his reply. Thankful for the second chance, I took it and slinked inside, not realising for a second that he knew where I lived. "Just got to make a quick stop first, if that's ok?" he asked. "Sure" was all I could say. I suddenly noticed that my heart was racing and my whole body was shaking. "It was really sweet of you to come watch me, was your friend ok?" "Nicole, Nic I mean, she had to go and babysit her brother" I stammered. "You've come a few times, you don't think I notice but I have, so thank you." "You swim really well"I didn't know what else to say. I decided just to stop talking and instead I listened to...was that...Dido? Coming out of his CD player? Not what I had imagined at all. He told me about how most of the people who came were for the other team or his other team mates; friends and family etc. His friends were supportive but the last thing any of his friends wanted to do was come back to school on a Friday night. I was thankful to not have to answer any more questions. The car stopped. "I'll be two minutes" said George, climbing out of the car. This time, he really was quick, he came back and tapped on the window - I reached over and rolled it down. "I feel like such an idiot - can I borrow £10 off you? I'm short" "Sure, I think" I reached awkwardly into my back pocket and checked my wallet, praying that I had some cash to offer. I did. "Thanks", he took it and held my hand briefly, "You'll get it back ASAP, I promise!" He disappeared again. I looked around, realising that we hadn't stopped outside a shop or a garage but were parked outside someone's ordinary house. What was he short for? Maybe he owed someone money and he was in loads of debt and I wouldn't ever see that again... The car door opened and in climbed George. "You'll get it back I promise" he repeated. "That's ok, what did you need it for?" He glanced at me, starting the engine. "Are you cool?" He hesitated. "Ummm, I wouldn't say cool, I mean I've got some friends..." "No, can you keep a secret?" He laughed. "Is it bad?" I asked, genuinely worried now. "Not bad, just some people don't always react well" Before I could answer, he tossed a small bag onto my lap, and in the dark I didn't have a clue what it is, picking it up, it's a small plastic bag, like a zip lock bag only tiny and inside is what looks like sticky green tea, all clumped together... "Is that cannabis?" The question flies from my mouth - what a dickhead I am. He laughs, a little too hard at first "Yes, it is" he replies. "Don't get me wrong, I'm not some stoner, just every now and again, especially after a good meet." "No, yeah, sure...It's ok, each to their own?" "You're not judging me now? Because you're looking at me like I just shot someone." The car stops again. "This is me, if you want I can drop you off home but..." "I really do live just just up there" - about a minute through a small alleyway that runs behind his house is my road! I couldn't believe that after all this time crushing on him he lived so close. "I know!" he said, smiling "Coming in?" "I don't know, I really should get back..." I start to stammer again. What if he starts smoking drugs in front of me? And gets all weird or has a freak out. There's my fantasy down the drain! I'll have to go back to regular porn. "Just for a bit" he insists. The house is nice, semi detached and empty. George tells me that his dad had a work party and his mom always goes to show support and we bond for a few minutes over the fact that we're both only children. He takes me up to his room which is big and dark blue, with a double bed from Ikea double bed... "Your people." he joked... At one end and a desk with stacks of trophies and certificates and medals at the other. "I'm just going to take a really quick shower, I hate those crappy school ones - I'll be thirty seconds, just need to wash the chlorine off" he told me. I sit on the edge of his bed waiting. My straight and unattainable crush was taking a shower while I sat in his bedroom? I started shaking again. Why was I here? He was lonely. No...he wanted to make sure I wouldn't rat his drugs out to anyone in school. I still couldn't believe he did it. He was such a nice boy. I already liked him a little less, but he was also cool too I guess and I'd known that all along. He was always going to parties. I bet Rosie Bitchface got him hooked on it, she was blatantly a junkie... "...I'm thinking considering you've seen me in just a speedo, a towel is OK, right...earth to TJ..." I snapped out of my thought process. He was standing in front of me wearing nothing but a towel and holding a small hand-rolled cigarette, or what I later realised was a joint. It was a strange mix of attraction and confusion. "I'm sorry?" I asked. "I said do you mind if I just wear a towel? I don't wear PJ's and since you've..." "Right, no, yeah, it's ok, it's better than ok, it's great." I was beginning to turn scarlet. He looked at me laughed and smiled, standing by his bedroom window and lighting the thin joint, carefully inhaling the smoke and blowing it (even more carefully) out of the window. "How often do you do it?" I asked. "Once or twice a year," he replied between lungfulls, "really not very often at all, but with the parents away and the meet I thought why not, want to try some? It's not what you think at all." He was standing two feet away from me wearing nothing but a towel, a little water still glistening on his ever so slightly defined pecs and his abs - FUCK! I could see the outline of his dick. "Ignore it, it always happens. I just get excited you know? It's kind of taboo!" he creased his face up in a grin. "What does it feel like?" I ask. "A bit like drinking I guess, only drinking sometimes makes me down, you know? This just makes you giddy." He was head boy. It couldn't be all bad. He sensed my intrigue and moved closer, holding the joint to my lips. I shook my head. "I've never smoked," I tell him. "Just suck in a little" I closed my lips around the joint and tried to pull in the hot acrid smoke. He glances down at me and I realise I hard as a rock and pre-cum is oozing down my thigh - and i'm wearing slim jeans - I gasped in shock, inhaling a load of ash or smoke or toxic shit - I swear I think I coughed up a lung, tears forming in my eyes as I hack violently and george rubs my back. - I had to leave after that. The coughing fit thankfully deflated my penis long enough for me to thank him and leave. He insisted I take half of the bag home with me, he wouldn't take no for an answer. I tried to explain that I wouldn't even be able to use it and he told me that since I paid for half I should keep half until he could pay me back, collateral or something. I ran into my room, bidding hurried hello's to my mother on route and immediately hid the bag inside a sock, inside another sock which I then tucked into an empty aftershave box, praying to God she wouldn't find it. If I'm totally honest I was a little curious to see what being high felt like, I lay back on my bed and tried to imagine myself like some 60's hippy having his first trip. But then realised I didn't actually feel at all different just sore from coughing up my lung. I thought back to the events that had transpired and how I had watched George stand at his window, dick pressing against his towel, smooth abs and arms and pecks, that wasn't normal head boy/younger diligent student behaviour was it? What if it was an open invitation - and I fucked it up! I didn't feel giddy, all I had was an erection. Maybe weed just didn't affect me, I considered. It was probably a narrow escape. I was a responsible student after all. I escaped the confines of my jeans and lay on my bed rubbing my stomach and brushing against the head of my now thumping dick, pre-cum was everywhere. I imagined what might have been. We could have both taken a shower, both shared his joint. Both gotten hard, maybe he'd force himself on me I could have been a release, blamed the drugs! I would have been an innocent victim in it all. The more I thought about it the harder I got and the more pre-cum flooded from the tip of my dick, like an open faucet. Grasping it firmly in my hand I began stroking myself, smiling at the - slap slap slap - noise made by the combined efforts of my hand, foreskin and the copious amounts of pre-cum now pouring from me. I think my bio teacher was wrong! With my left hand I continued rubbing my stomach, feeling the warm numbness invade my brain as I grew closer and closer...imagining his hand on mine...mine on his...making him moan... I came with a grunt. Shuddering once, twice, three, four, I lost count as I continued to shoot load after load, my legs spasming, my body convulsing and cum thoroughly ruining my top. I lay there in a stupor staring at my ceiling, a sort of post-orgasm static ringing through my ears. I remembered hearing somewhere that cannabis was supposed to help prevent cancer and that it was legal in Amsterdam - so maybe it really wasn't all bad. My biggest fear was that I might not keep my grades but George didn't seem to have that problem. I decided then and there that if the offer was extended again, I wouldn't be so eager to resist. ************************************************************************** You've seen where it all ends up - and now how it started. I guess it just depends whether you want to hear about the events in between.