MIKE SOLO Mike threw his books on the table, and sank into the chair. He didn't have the energy to even take off his jacket at this point; he was exhausted. He let the car keys in his hand fall to the linoleum floor as he slumped there in the kitchen. Idly glancing around, he noticed that his mom hadn't done the dishes this morning before she left for work, but neither had she left a note on the refrigerator door for him, telling him what chores he had to do. Good. He looked up at the clock. 5:05. Actually, it was earlier than he thought; it felt like nearly 6:30 to him. Well, he thought, that was good, too. He'd have some time to himself, maybe to rest and listen to some music, before Mom came home and started dinner, and started urging him to do homework. "Mike, don't put it off, get started early," she'd say. So, with what seemed like incredible effort, he got himself up on his feet, picked up his stuff, and headed for his room. "Some day, I'm going to have to straighten out this junk," he said aloud to himself as he entered his bedroom. It wasn't dirty, or especially messy. Just cluttered. He had to decide to get rid of some of the odds and ends he had collected. It would probably take a whole weekend to do it, he thought, but it might be worth it. Who knows what he might find underneath the top layer? He sat on the edge of his bed and started to untie his boots. It even hurt a little to bend over; the workout his wrestling coach had given the team today had taken its toll, and he ached all over. He kicked the boots off, finally, and laid back on the bed, thinking. The team had a match coming up with Winslow High School, and while he was looking forward to the competition, he really didn't think he was ready for it. Half the team, for that matter, needed more training, more workouts. He hoped that the next two weeks would give him the confidence he needed. Todays's practice was good, though, he thought. He had especially enjoyed his match with Joe Alvarez, because even though Joe was slightly bigger than him, he had been able to pin him without too much trouble. "I think I got him on speed and agility," he decided. He began going over the details of the match with Joe, and remembered the things he wanted to try out at the next practice. He was really bad on a couple of holds, and wanted to ask Coach Barnes to help him master them. The coach had looked slightly disappointed with him, even though he won, he had noticed. As he laid there, feeling warm and comfortable, he began thinking about something that had bothered him a little. Just a little, but he didn't know what to think. During the match with Joe, he had experienced something slightly offbeat. When Joe had him in one of the holds, he was incredibly aware that Joe's hand was on his crotch, and that it felt good. He remembered thinking that he wished the feeling could last. It was as if the few seconds it was happening were stretched in time, kind of like a slo-mo replay on a game on TV. The feeling was even clear to him now, as he reviewed it in his mind. Mike put his hand on his crotch lightly, cupping his balls. The feeling came over him almost immediately again, and he savored it. He pressed his hand into himself with only a light pressure, like Joe had done, and without thinking, he moaned softly with the pleasure he felt. And he began to get hard. He thought about later, after the practice, in the showers. He hadn't realized it then, but now he knew he had thoroughly checked out Joe while they were showering. The thought made him uncomfortable now, and he felt a certain heat in his face. He knew he shouldn't check out guys like that, but there was something about Joe that made him look. Joe had a really good build - he knew he worked out with weights - and let's face it, Joe had a really big dick. Mike lightly rubbed his hard-on through his jeans, and tried to imagine how big Joe's dick would be, hard. The image of Joe with a hard-on made Mike press harder into his crotch, and he groaned again. Soon, though, Mike pulled his hand away, and rolled over onto his stomach, pressing his face into the pillow. "I shouldn't be thinking like that," he thought. "It's not right, anyway. I'm not queer." He tried to think about Melissa, and how she had looked last week at the party, but he couldn't really keep his mind on one thing. He decided he'd better take a shower, it would make him feel a lot better, even though he'd just taken one at school, barely an hour ago. He quickly jumped up and began to strip off his clothes. He noticed a wet spot on his jockey shorts where he guessed he had leaked a little during his daydreams. He used his handkerchief to blot at it, hoping he could avoid any stain that Mom might see. It was a small spot, anyway, so he didn't really care. Not at all like the huge stain his dick had caused when he saw that X-rated video at Bill's house last month, and got all hot and bothered... He threw his underwear and socks in the hamper, and then walked naked down the hall to the bathroom. He checked out his face in the mirror over the sink to see if those two ugly pimples were going away, and he was relieved to see that the blotches were much smaller and lighter. As he stood there, he checked out his shoulders, inhaling deeply, making a muscle. He figured he was beginning to look bigger, finally. "About time," he thought, "I'm already 18." He stood there for a few minutes, looking intently at himself. He was getting more hair under his arms, he noted. He didn't especially like that, but he realized it made him feel older. Same way the thickening hair around his balls made him feel more like a real man. He raised himself up on his toes, and looked awkwardly down through the mirror, so he could see his crotch. Yup, there was more hair there, too. He suddenly wanted to see himself full-length, nude. See what he looked like to others, like, say, in the shower room at school. He went across the hall to his mom's room, where there was a full-length mirror on the wall. The drapes were half-shut, so he turned on the lights as he went in, so he could see, really good. He stood in front of the mirror, examining himself, trying all sorts of poses. First, like a boxer, then a bodybuilder, then hands-on-hips like Superman or something. He guessed he didn't look too bad, after all. He could use some more weight in the right places, but he assumed that would come soon with a little work on his part. The wrestling had helped, too. His legs looked meatier than he remembered. He turned around, back to the mirror, and looked over his shoulder at his back view. Not bad, he thought, and he inhaled again and tensed his muscles to see the expanded "V" of his back. That looked better, he decided. He looked at his rear end, which his Mom always joked about. She'd been saying since he was thirteen that he had the cutest butt of any young man she had ever seen, but he thought it kind of stuck out too much. But what did he know? Maybe the girls like it like that. He laughed, and then bent over, with one hand on each cheek of his ass, spreading it, and "mooning" the mirror. "What a strange view," he thought as he looked through his legs at the mirror. "Almost looks like the rear of Uncle Mack's dog Ralph!" he thought, with his balls hanging down like that. Without standing upright, he backed up, closer to the mirror, for a better look. He noticed that there was some hair down there that he didn't remember seeing before. This made him feel pretty good. Mike stood up, and turned around, facing the mirror again. He stared at his crotch. His cock was a little small, he thought, but he was sure glad it wasn't as small as Billy Monroe's! Wow, that kid had a problem... but maybe Billy would grow eventually. Billy was a good friend, and a dynamite wrestler. Mike turned sideways, and examined the way he looked from a side view. He really did think his butt stuck out too far, and he tried pulling in his hips to make his butt smaller. Well, it almost worked, but it made his dick stick out way too far in front of him. Holding that awkward position, he grabbed his cock as he would if he was taking a leak, to see what that looked like. He laughed at himself, "Jeez, men look stupid naked!" He pulled at his dick slightly, filling it out a bit to make it look longer, and he realized he needed to take a leak. He walked back into the bathroom and stood in front of the toilet. Just before the piss started to flow, he got a wacky idea, and moved over to the bathtub. He leaned over the tub, with his legs spread wide and his thighs against the rim, and he rested his hands against the tile wall on the other side, then released the pent-up piss. He had always liked those old-fashioned urinals, the ones that looked like watering troughs for horses, that reminded him of little bathtubs when he was a kid. He remembered it was fun to spray your piss around like a hose, sometimes even writing "words" with the piss. Thinking of this, he started moving his hips back and forth, splashing his urine along the length of the tub as he did so. It felt really good, he thought, to let it go like this, and he closed his eyes and enjoyed the feeling. It was better than even pissing in the woods, where it didn't matter where it went, unless it got on your shoes! Mike pissed long and hard; he hadn't realized how badly he had had to go. He would have said, "I gotta take a wicked piss!" if he was out with his buddies or something. For some reason, he always thought it was fun when he and the guys spent a night Downtown, and they ducked in an alley as a group to take a much-needed piss. Somehow, pissing took on a better feel when you were standing, pissing against a brick wall, with a bunch of guys who all had their cocks out! Maybe because it was a "group experience", Mike thought. When he finished, he ran some water into the tub to rinse it, because it kind of smelled funny, naturally. When he stood up, he noticed his cock was a bit enlarged, probably because he was thinking so much about it, and pissing, and so forth. He stared down at it for a minute, then walked back into his Mom's room to look in the mirror again. This time, in a side view, he noticed, he looked more like Joe. Joe's dick was about as big as his was now, half-hard, and Joe's body wasn't that much bigger than his own. He smiled to himself, thinking how impossibly big Joe's prick must be when it was full-hard, and Mike began stroking his cock slowly. With thoughts of the locker room and the showers in his mind, it was only a matter of seconds before Mike was sporting a full hard-on. He was watching himself in the mirror, and it felt especially good. Suddenly, he stopped, and took his hand off his dick. He stared at his face intently in the mirror across from him. "This is really wrong," he said aloud, softly. It just felt wrong to be thinking the thoughts he was thinking, and yet feeling so hot and sexual at the same time. He didn't think he was queer, and yet, it was exciting. He looked down at his boner. It was as hard as a rock. He knew he wanted to jerk off now, real bad, but something was making him feel nasty inside. He'd been playing with himself, pretty regularly, for the past couple of years. Usually, he didn't think about anything when he was doing it, except how it felt, how incredibly good it felt. It made him feel guilty afterwards, though, and because of that, he tried not to do it too often. Only when he really had to. When the feeling was so nagging in the pit of his stomach that he just had to make the nag go away, and make his cock feel so good. He'd been trying to just do it maybe twice a week. It was difficult controlling himself, but it helped to remember something he'd read about real athletes avoiding sex before competition, because it boosted performance. If he got the urge to beat his meat, and he'd done it too recently, he'd just concentrate on how much better his wrestling would be if he held off. Most of the time, he'd be able to keep his hands off it. Sometimes, he'd be weak, and he'd know he had to do it or stay awake all night. He'd been able to keep it down to only a couple of times a week this way. Right now, though, staring down at his intense hard-on, and with the confusing thoughts and images of Joe reeling in his brain, he knew he was going to be weak. He started to stroke himself again, and oh, it felt so good! A drop of the sticky clear fluid eased out of the tip, and Mike spread it over the tip of his dick with his finger. His dick was on fire, and touching it like that made it jerk slightly, as if it had a life of its own. He watched himself in the mirror as he stroked, and tried to imagine that he was looking at Joe jerking off. He wondered if Joe did it, too. He must. "His cock must ache like mine sometimes, too," he thought, and he was sure he was right. He read somewhere that almost all guys do it once in a while. He figured Joe must do it at least as much as he did, and the thought of Joe lying on his bed, playing with himself, made Mike squeeze his dick hard with pleasure. It felt good, but Mike wanted more. He walked over to his Mom's dressing table and took the small bottle of Vaseline that she used to remove her eye makeup sometimes. He opened the bottle, took a small glop on his finger, and spread it on his cock. He closed the bottle, put it back where it had been, and walked back to the mirror. "Ah! That's it!" he said aloud as he began to stroke the greased dick. It felt so much better, even too good. Kinky. He hunched his body, and pumped his hips into his stationary hand, as if he were fucking it. He had his mouth open wide, moaning. It was incredible. It had been a week since he had last jerked off, and he really needed this, he knew. The mirror extended right down to the carpet, and Mike was feeling weak with the pleasure, so he sank to his knees and got real close to the mirror. He watched his dick as it kept sloshing out of sight into his fist. The head of his dick was getting quite red, and the feeling was heating up within him. Mike played with his balls with his other hand, squeezing and manipulating them in their sac. He kept imagining he was watching Joe, rather than looking at himself in the mirror, and it was exciting beyond belief. He fantasized that he was looking at Joe through a one-way mirror, and that Joe didn't know he was being watched. He made faces of ecstasy that he knew Joe would be making as he beat off. He suddenly remembered that he had been in the Boys' washroom last week, standing at one of the urinals, when Joe had come in to take a piss. Joe took the urinal right next to his, and hauled out his cock. Mike remembered looking over at Joe, discreetly, and thinking how thick his cock seemed, and how fat the stream of piss was that was gushing from it. He remembered how envious he had felt, and how he had looked down at his own equipment, and hoped he grow to be that big down there. This thought came back to Mike now, and threw him into a frenzy of excitement. He started jerking off faster, harder, thinking to himself that he had Joe's hard dick in his grip right now, and he was jerking him off, not himself. He was holding Joe's thick, hard piece, and making Joe feel so damn good, and it was so big! Mike threw his head back, he didn't need to look in the mirror anymore, and he opened his mouth wide and groaned in pleasure. His hand was moving incredibly fast now, and the slapping sound of his lubricated fist on his hard-on was loud and insistent. The feeling was intense and wonderful, and Mike wanted it to last forever. He was close now, and he knew it. Mike laid down on his back on the soft carpet, and fully let himself go. He started pumping his hips to meet the thrusts of his hand, and his other hand alternately played with his balls and pressed against the crack of his ass, rubbing against his asshole. Mike's mind was flashing with crazy images of Joe and some of the other guys in the shower - they were all hard, and jerking off together in the lockerroom! - they were all in an alley, taking a piss, and then hard, and jerking off together! - images piled on images, Mike's mind was reeling in ecstasy. This was it! He really needed to cum now. He wanted to shoot his load, and have his cream on Joe's chest! He wanted to shoot his jism in one of those trough-type urinals, and have it drip down the side! He wanted to blow his load so hard, it would shoot right over his head! He wanted to be doing this to Joe, to make his buddy Joe feel so good, like he was now! Mike's fist was pounding furiously, and with just a few more strokes, he felt the pressure build up to that point-of-no-return. He went wild, thrashing his body around, and with a few loud moans, Mike began to cum! It was a pounding orgasm; the cum shot out of his prick in several thick streams, and with each blast, Mike let out a little scream. He didn't want it to end. It felt so good! He kept stroking until he couldn't anymore, till the powerful sensations subsided, and the head of his cock became ultra-sensitive. He kept his hand on his hard cock, and laid there, panting. He had cum all over his stomach and chest. The sexual images of cocks and balls and Joe and the others faded. His body was tingling all over, and beads of sweat were traveling from his armpits to the rug beneath him. He laid there, exhausted, for several minutes, then got up very carefully so cum wouldn't drip anywhere, and walked back to the bathroom. He used toilet tissue to wipe the jism and Vaseline off himself, and dropped the used tissues in the toilet. Can't leave the evidence around, he thought. He wiped off most of the stuff, then washed his hands with soap and water in the sink. He walked back to his Mom's room to make sure he hadn't left anything there, and that everything was in place, and it was. He glanced at his naked image in the mirror again, but now he didn't seem to look so good. He felt a little weird. It was hard to re-construct the feelings he was having just a few minutes ago, about the guys and Joe, but he knew that it had been intense and real. He was weird. He laughed at himself, posed again like a boxer in the mirror, turned around and stuck his ass way out and wagged it, and then left the room, turning out the light. Back in the bathroom, he turned on he shower so it would warm up, flushed the toilet to get rid of all the floating tissues, got a fresh bath towel out of the linen closet, and finally stepped into the tub. It felt refreshing to have the warm water pelting down on him. He lathered his chest, stomach, and crotch right away, to get rid of the greasy feeling from the Vaseline. Then he just stood there, and let the water cascade down over his body, motionless. He felt really special. It was hard to put a finger on, but he felt "alive". He wondered why athletes tried not to cum, because he felt more powerful right now than he had before. Mike thought, "I don't think I'll try so hard anymore to be 'good' and not jerk off. To Hell with it, it feels good. More than good: Incredible! I'm going to jerk off from now on as much as I can!" The End (?) ---------- The preceeding story was provided to THE SUPER STUD by the people at GAYLINK on PEOPLE LINK. We wish to thank them for allowing us to redistribute this story to our supporting members.