Date: Sun, 19 Jul 1998 17:42:19 EDT
From: KenH4U@aol.com
Subject: Caught Without My Brad
Here is the latest chapter in the continuing saga. Sorry it was so long
coming. Many thanks to those who took the time to write me. Have enjoyed
your comments and have made some new friends. Thanks especially to Donald,
Patrick and Robb. Please send your comments (constructive, I hope) Once
again, this is a work of pure fiction.
Caught Without My Brad
When the wake-up bell sounded at 6:30 am, I was still snuggling in the warmth
of the dream where last night's gift from Brad was repeated over and over. As
the lights and the loud talking slowly brought me awake, I could feel the
stickiness around my dick and on my stomach from last night's fun. There is
hardly ever enough time to get dressed, make your bed, and straighten up
before the breakfast bell sounds, but I knew that I had to have a shower this
morning. Throwing off the covers and grabbing my bathrobe, I dashed for the
basement showers, oblivious to the greeting and the protests that my mad dash
generated. I couldn't be late for breakfast, `cause I surely didn't want the
demerits that would bring, especially on the day we left for Christmas
vacation.
Showering my thin, almost hairless body didn't take long, and as cold as it
was in that basement, drying took even less time. I was out of breath by the
time I got back to my room, but I was sure I would have enough time to get to
the dining hall on time. Throwing my bathrobe on a hook in the closet, I
pulled open bureau drawers to take out underclothes and socks. Just as I got
one leg inserted in my briefs, Brad stopped by the open door. "Better hurry
up or you'll be late," he said, smiling and letting his eyes roam over my
naked body. "I'll see you in formation or after breakfast," he added, winking
. Waving his hand, he trotted off to the dining hall.
The dorm was silent as I finished knotting my tie and grabbed for my heavy
coat. I knew I was running a little behind, but felt I still had time to make
formation if I ran hard all the way. Because of the silence in the building,
I had assumed everyone had already left for breakfast, so I jumped when "M"
(at boarding school, everyone was called by their last name. Hope you don't
mind that I abbreviated his last name) stopped me from leaving my room with an
arm across the doorway. "God, "M" you scared the shit outta me," I yelled at
him. "Why aren't you at formation?"
"Thought you and I should have a little chat," he began, without a hint of
letting his arm drop from the doorway. Although he was just about as tall as
I was, and a good twenty pounds heavier, I never doubted that I could take him
in a fight if I had to ( and he knew it, too). But there was something in his
voice that made me pause before shoving his arm out of my way.
"What the hell could we possibly have to `chat' about, "M"?" I demanded.
"We've barely spoken to each other in four years." He and I had been in the
same dormitory ever since fifth grade and I had watch him grow up. He had a
perpetual tan, thanks to some distant Mediterranean ancestor, dark brown hair,
and a fairly rounded face. His brown "doe" eyes, with thick lashes could
almost draw you completely into them if you weren't careful. His body was
firm, muscled, with a lot of definition, and it was evident he was quite proud
of it as much as he showed it off. He was extremely handsome, and he knew it,
and while some might find him irritable, he and I were hardly even
acquaintance, let alone friends, and I wanted to keep it that way. I didn't
like him. I didn't like the way he traded on his good looks to get what he
wanted. I didn't like the mean streak he displayed (usually with boys in
lower grades who wouldn't fight back). I didn't like his laziness, or the way
he used other boys to do his work. I didn't like the way he watched out only
for himself, caring little if his actions hurt someone else. Despite having
the looks of a movie star and the body of a young Greek god, I really didn't
like him.
"I saw what you did for Brad last night," he replied with a smug smile.
"Woke up around 1 am, and had to take a piss. I saw everything."
My heart began to race as I tried to desperately think of a reply. Just
bluff it out and seewhat he knows, I told myself. "I haven't the foggiest
idea what you're babbling about, and I haven't got time for games, "M". Now
get out of my way or we're both going to be late for breakfast," I added,
hoping to get out of this unpleasant situation.
"It's no game, and you know it," he shot back, allowing a bit of anger to
creep into his voice. "I saw you with Brad's dick in your mouth, and kissing
it and everything. So don't play all innocent with me, fag boy."
Instead of being angry as his crude remarks, all I could think of was, thank
God he hadn't see everything, for I was more afraid for Brad than I was for
me. Still I had to try to bluff my way out, for I had no doubt that "M"
cheerfully resort to blackmail. "You're full of shit, "M", " I said, knocking
his arm out of my way. "I don't know what you're talking about, but obviously
you had a wishful dream."
I didn't wait for a reply, but headed for the stairs, determined to present a
picture of a wrongfully accused person.
"It was no dream," he called to my back. "And with all the moonlight, I got
to real good look. You really know how to use those lips of yours. Made me
hard just watching."
I forced myself to walk calmly down the stairs. Hoping that if I ignored his
last sentence, he would believe that maybe he was wrong. But it was me who
was wrong.
"Make a nice, juicy story for the rest of the dorm, don't you think?," he
asked, without expecting a reply. "8th grade sports hero get blow job from
class brain. Should be lots of the fellas who would love to hear the details.
Kinda ruin your life around here, won't it? Won't do much for Brad's
reputation either."
If it were just me, I like to think I would have kept walking down those
stairs, or better yet, beating the shit out of "M" for even mentioning the
whole thing, but I knew in my heart I wouldn't let him hurt Brad. He was
right about one thing, Brad was a hero to most of the guys in the 8th grade,
and damn it, to most of the entire middle school. He thrived on being a role
model for them, always taking the time to explain or show a move to someone
who asked. He loved baseball and soccer, and loved sharing his knowledge and
talent with others. It would kill him to be ostrisized from the other boys,
as being exposed by "M" would surely do. So slowly I retraced my steps,
wanting more than anything to smack that smile off "M"'s face, but instead
swallowed my anger. I could do anything for Brad.
"So, what do you want?", I asked as I drew up in front of him.
"Want?", he asked. "Why I want the same thing Brad did, and right now," he
demanded, pushing me into my room. "Do a good job and I'll forget I saw you
and Brad together." I sat on the corner of my bed as I watched him unbuckle
his belt, draw down his zipper, and push his pants and briefs down to his
ankles. His monsterous errection stood straight out, with a drop of clear
precum already oozing out of his piss slit. It had to be seven and a half
inches, and thick and veiny. His balls hung way down his thigh, covered with
a thin mat of curley dark hair. His circumsized dick had a rounded head, with
a thick thatch of dark hair at its base, which lightly wandered up towards his
belly button. He was "well hung", but the sight of it did nothing for me, but
rather the opposite. I'd have given anything not to have been in the
situation in which I now found myself. Anything, that is, except betray my
Brad.
"So, suck it boy," he demanded as he manouvered it towards my mouth. "Now!"
I took as much of it into my mouth as I could, but still only covered about
three-quarters of it. I refused to tease it with my tounge as I had with
Brad, making "M" do all the work, which he quickly did. He began to fuck my
face with a vengence, making me gag every three or four thrusts he made, but
he just snickered and continued to shove his meat in faster and faster. I
tried to move my head backwards to lessen the pain his thrusts were causing,
but he put both hands behind my head and forced me forward to meet each new
thrust.
I placed my hands on his hips, at first gently rubbing his skin to allay any
suspicion, but with the main idea of slowing down his attack on my mouth. By
breaking ever so slighly his forward thrusts, I managed to spare the back of
my throat a lot of pain. Finally I had had enough of the abuse, and decided
to end it as quickly as I could. I began to run my tounge along the underside
of his shaft as it moved in and out, causing him to slow down his thrusts to
take advantage of the new feelings that my tounge was generating. As his
thrust decreased in violence, I felt safe enough to release one hand from his
hip to play with his shrinking ball sac, causing him to moan for the first
time since he popped that monster into my mouth. After what seemed like an
hour to me, his thrusts became faster, his maons louder, and his ball sac
almost disappeared within his body, telling me that he was about to cum. I
tried to move my head back to take his swollen dick out of my mouth, but his
hands kept my head in place. Anger built within me, for I refused to taste
any cum that I did not invite, so I raised my hand and knocked his hands from
my head, removing his dick just in time to be greeted by a face full of hot
cum. It splattered across my nose and mouth, and even managed a hit or two
down my shirt and tie.
"Why'd you take it out?," "M" demanded as he fisted the last of the cum from
his dick. "I told you to do a good job if you wanted me to keep silent.
Looks like you haven't learned how to do as you're told."
"I gave you what you wanted," I countered. "Nothing was said about letting
you cum in my mouth."
He stared at me for a couple of seconds, then shrugged. "Well, maybe next
time. I know how you fags just love to suck cock, and I know I got a bigger
one than your friend Brad."
If he was trying to get a rise out of me over his comments, I refused to give
him that satisfaction. Instead, I began to remove my soiled tie and shirt,
knowing I would have to take them home dirty. The shirt I could wash, but the
tie was a lost cause. No way I was going to take that to a dry cleaner.
What I tried to convey was indifference, but what "M" thought was a
completely the opposite thing. "Yeah, as long as I'm here, I might as well
get a look at the goods that made old Brad attracted to you. It certainly
wasn't your ability to suck cock, `cause I'm telling you, that was one of the
poorest blow jobs I've ever had."
"Fuck off, "M"," I told him, stopping the unbuttoning of my shirt. "You got
what you wanted, now leave."
"Hey, kid, I'll decide when I've got what I wanted," he shot back with an
smirk across his face. "If you want my silence, and you know you do, just do
as I tell you and show me your naked body. I'm courious."
The humiliation at sucking his dick was nothing compared to the humiliation
of having to strip for him. But what choice did I have? I knew he would rush
to tell everybody in the dorm what he had seen, and that would make life
miserable for Brad (and it wouldn't do much for me, either), and I simply
couldn't let that happen. So I did as he demanded, and removed my clothes,
tossing them on the bed. At least I was discusted enough not to get an
erection, which would surely have added fuel to the fire, and "M" didn't need
anymore amunition.
"Ain't much is it?," he commented when I stood up from removing my briefs.
"Kinda skinny and only some peach fuzz." His words may have hurt me if it
hadn't been for Brad's comments on how beautiful my dick was and how it was
perfectly proportioned. And he also told me he liked the fact that he was
helping my pubic hair to grow by all the attention he was giving it. So "M"'s
words didn't hurt at all, and I think he was expecting them to. "So turn
around and let's see if it's your ass that turns him on," he continued,
grabbing my shoulder to turn me around. For a brief instant my anger almost
got the best of me and my hands formed fists, but I slowly let them drop back
to my side. If I touched the bastard, he'd squeal his guts out, so once again
I forced myself to do what he demanded.
"Well, at least you got a nice bubble butt," he said, much like he was
commenting on the chrome bumper of a new car. "Bend over and lets have a
better look."
His hands spread my ass cheeks apart, and I could feel his breath on my cold
skin as he took his time examining my hole. He released one hand and I could
feel him trying to insert a finger, and while that had been a great feeling
when Brad did it, "M"'s attempts to penetrate caused me to shudder. It didn't
feel good; in fact I didn't like him touching me at all. I started to rise
up, but he put his hand on my back to keep me from moving. I heard him spit,
and the next instant I felt the most searing pair I have ever experienced as
he shove his newly errect dick into my ass hole. The pain took my breath away
as it felt he was tearing my insides apart. The pain continued to grow as he
penetrated further and further, until I thought I would pass out. But instead
of passing out, I fought back.
Despited his hand holding my back down, I pushed up and used my elbows to
knock him backwards, the pain caused by the sudden removal of his cock almost
as great as the original penetration. "Hey, kid," he yelled with pain as he
slammed into my bureau. "What the hell you think . . ."
"Shut the fuck up," I demanded as I grabbed him by the throat, interrupting
his protest. "What the hell makes you think you have the right to shove that
son-of-a-bitch up somebody's ass?" Relaeasing the pressure on his throat as
his skin turned white and tears formed in his eyes, I shoved him on the floor
in front of the closet. "I let you get away with your demands, because I
don't want any problems in the dorm, but no more, "M". You come anywhere near
me again, I'll punch you in the face so hard my knuckles will leave printmarks
in your forehead!"
With the returning air in his lungs, "M" began to rise, rubbing his throat.
"You're a crazy son-of-a-bitch'in fairy, you know that, don't you?"
That was all I needed to hear, and without preamble, I aimed my fist for his
face. I don't know who the punch hurt more, for my hand felt like it was
broken, but it was "M" who was once more on the floor, with blood dripping
from his nose. I reached over to continue the assult, but simply couldn't
when I looked at the fear in his face and the hand raised to ward off further
blows. Instead, I took a couple of deep breaths, then spoke very slowly to
him, keeping my face as close to his as I could get, considering he was still
on the floor.
""M", if I hear so much as a whisper, or a smirk, or even a sideways glance
that makes me think you told someone about either this or what you think you
saw, I'll get you. It may not be right then, or even that day or week, but
believe me, I'll get you, and when I do, I'll do my damnest to beat you to
death!"
His eyes clearly registered his belief in my statement. I knew I wouldn't be
able to carry out the threat, simply because I knew myself well enough to know
I could never beat up on anybody that badly. But it was importent for me to
make sure he believed I would. For if that fear hadn't been reflected in his
eyes, I knew that he would have won, and I would have continued to do most
anything he demanded. It was the least I could do to protect Brad and the
love he had given me.
"Pull your pants up and get the hell outta my room," I demanded, pulling him
from the floor. "And don't forget my warning, `cause it's something you can
take to the bank, believe me."
Struggling with his briefs and pants while trying to stop his nose from
bleeding, "M" shuffled from my room. When he had dissappeared, I sank heavily
onto the room's one wooden chair. The pain from sitting brought back all that
had just taken place, and tears slipped silently from my closed eyes. I had
never even dreamed that a person could have done that to another, and the
burning pain was overshadowed by fleeting emotions of humiliation, rage,
dejection, fear and finally, resignation. I told myself it was the price I
had to pay for being allowed to love another boy, and then I admitted to
myself, that if that was so, it was a small price for the love, trust, and
friendship of a special boy named, Brad.