Date: Thu, 30 Jun 2005 19:10:45 -0700 (PDT)
From: thunder boy <thunder151@yahoo.com>
Subject: Jockboy Mike: Chapter 03

Disclaimer:  If you are under 18 or it is illegal to read this material in your
area, please leave now. This story contains material describing sexual activity
between teenage boys. Material may not be reproduced without author's
permission. Responses/suggestions/feedback to: thunder151@yahoo.com.

A word of thanks to those who have offered their support and encouragement.
There has been a recurring request for a little more action, which is all well and
good, but this story is not about instant gratification, especially Jockboy Mike's.

Astrophysicists tell us that, when a photon is created in the core of the sun, it
bounces, spirals, ricochets and gyrates in the flowing, superheated matrix for
100 YEARS  before it crawls out of the sun's gravitational well and leaps onto
our retinas. Please be patient and enjoy the show, as Mike soaks in a teenage
marinade of hormones.

                    JOCKBOY MIKE: CHAPTER 03

     The following weeks were strange. I thought about Sean constantly,
and fantasized about him every night while I fell asleep. At first, I panicked
about seeing him in the hallways at school or in gym class. I wanted to see
him, but at the same time I was scared he would 'out' me for being gay, or
even worse, avoid me for being queer.  I continued to watch him whenever he
was around. He just treated me like a casual acquaintance, nodding or saying
'hi' when we ran into each other. The strange part was .... when nobody was
looking .... he would intentionally grab his crotch, or casually point to it ....
looking away from me absently, with the hint of a smile.  Since he kept his
antics 'under the table,' I started to relax a little.

     The other strange thing was .... he didn't avoid me, and other than his
lewd gestures, he didn't approach me, either.  He seemed to be teasing me. I
couldn't figure it out. If he had enough interest, and enough balls, to touch
my boner in the locker-room ... I hoped he would be more interested in
getting to know me. After a while, I started thinking he was just a straight
dude trying to deal with an awkward "gay" moment in the showers without
seeming like he was freaking over it. After all, he was probably straight
anyway. After our encounter in the locker-room, he went back to using the
team showers for gym class. Damn.

     In the meantime, my home-dawg Cooper and I continued to hang out
together. Cooper didn't quite inspire my libido quite like Sean did. He was
decent-looking, but not like Sean. Still, he had a definite sexual presence that
I couldn't ignore. He was a real horn-dog sometimes. He would talk about
girls at school, who was hot and who put out. He told me about one girl that I
thought was kinda ugly, how they went out and how he managed to get a
blow-job from her.  Despite our jack-off session in the woods so many
months ago,  I figured he wasn't interested in any real guy-on-guy action.
That didn't help much when we were hanging out, though. I would still get
horny looking at him, wishing he would notice my interest .... and DO
something about it. After all, he was the instigator for MOST of our capers.

     By late October, I had decided that I was going to get on the wrestling
team that year. I was fairly athletic, tired of the same old school routine, and
wanted to do something to get me closer to Sean. When I told Cooper I was
going to wrestle, he was game, so he joined too. It was a  real commitment.

     Within a week after the start of practice, my whole body was sore. It
was 3 hours of hard  work after school every day, in a crowded practice
room, hot and humid from everyone working out til their arms were ready to
drop off. And I got to watch Sean. I worked hard to impress him. Not an easy
task. When he was in practice, he was all business, a serious wrestler. He was
quick, he was strong, he was skilled, and he was untiring.

     The shower-room after practice opened whole new vistas of
appreciation for me. Way better than the standard gym class. Especially the
guys under 150#. Sweet. There were some lean, hard bodies and cute faces in
that crowd. But I was a newcomer, my locker far from the clutch of veteran
wrestlers, so I didn't see much of Sean after practice. He usually went off
with the varsity guys. It made it a little easier for me, not seeing him, in one
way   I didn't have to worry so much about springing a boner in front of all
those jocks. After practice, Coop and I would hit the cool night air, drained
and relaxed, and head for home.

          *****************************************

     Just when things seemed to be getting routine again, just when I was
starting to feel like another regular guy who just happened to think about
other guys now and then, something interesting happened. There was this guy
who sat behind me in homeroom     a kinda scruffy, kinda good-looking,
kinda tall and skinny motorhead.

     One day he was bored and started trying to bother me while I was
trying to burn through some homework. He started putting his foot on the
back of my chair and nudging me in the back. I slid forward and tried to keep
working. Then he put his feet beside my chair ... and started swinging them
around like he was bored, occasionally hitting me in the leg.  I tried to ignore
him, and after a while this tactic got boring and he settled down.

     Then he tapped his desk with a pencil for a while. After a few minutes
of this, he started leaning forward, whispering loudly, "What you doing,
Mike?"  And "Hey, Mike, are you doing some of that new math?" I ignored
him some more. Finally, he started flicking my ear with his finger. He started
whispering "What you doin', Mikey, some o' that cock-u-less? Or is that fag-
o-nometry your doin'?"

      I started getting really irritated, clenching my jaw and breathing heavy.
I tried to brush his hand away from the side of my head when I felt it there,
but I think this just made the game soooo much more interesting for him. My
ears were turning red.

      Finally I whipped around and blurted out  "Just leave me the fuck
alone," all mad-serious. Motorhead jumped back in his seat in mock surprise
and grinned.

      I turned back in my seat, and he started whispering to noone in
particular, "Don't bother Mike, he's doing some serious new math," and
"Don't mess with Mike, he's tough." I managed to ignore him til the class
bell rang, but I was humiliated.  By some dumb-ass motorhead. By a hardboy
grease-monkey.

               ***********************************

     The incident got even more interesting later that night, in my sleep. I
dreamt I was in homeroom class again doing my homework, just like it
happened that day. And motorhead was there, too, nudging me and teasing
me. In the dream, he was kinda grease-smudged, but when I turned around to
look at him, it felt way more sexual. His eyes were especially clear and
bright, with long dark eyelashes. His lips were full and expressive. His voice
was a deep, clear half-whisper.

     When he nudged me in the back with his foot, I could smell the
ripeness of his old tennis shoes. And the nudges were different. He nudged
me .... but then left his foot there .... touching my lower back. Then he moved
his foot forward on my seat, beside me, until it was right up against my thigh.
I pressed my leg into his tennis shoe. He started teasing my neck and ears
with his pencil, so light that it felt like a fly was walking on my skin. I got
goose-bumps. I pressed my leg harder against his foot. I started getting hard.

     Motorhead started his verbal teasing then, whispering "Mikey's gettin'
turned on, Mikey's got a hard-on for my sneakers, Mikey wants to be my
tough little fag-boy, Mikey is gonna be my homeroom cock-slave, Mikey
wants to taste my wiener. Mikey's a queer-boy." All through this I got more
and more turned on.

     Motorhead scooted close enough behind me to get his leg around me
and plant his foot square in my lap, right on my hard-on. I didn't try to stop
him. I just let it happen. Then, talking low and close to my ear he said,
"Come on Mikey, take off your pants. Show me how you got a hard-on for
me. Take 'em off." And for emphasis, he ground his foot on my hard cock
one last time before dropping it to the ground. I missed his foot on my lap as
soon as it was gone. He gave me a long moment to let the situation sink in.

      "Stand up," he said. Something in my mind snapped. Somewhere in
the back of my mind I knew this fierce hardboy  was going to exercise his
sexual charm and exploit me. I could not refuse it. I stood up.

       "Drop your pants," he said. I turned to face him.  He was leaning back
in his chair smirking, his legs stretched wide in front of him. I unbuckled my
belt, unzipped my fly, dropped my pants to the floor. He chuckled, delighted
with himself.

     "Your underwear," he said quietly, looking at me steadily, like it was a
dare.  I pulled them down to my ankles. I stood there between his
outstretched legs with my boner bouncing in the air for him. He shifted in his
seat and laughed. "Nice boy-boner you got there Mikey." he grinned,
pointing. I blushed. In the dream, I could feel everyone looking at me,
looking at my boy-wiener, but my eyes stayed fixed on him.

     "Okay, boner-boy .... kick off your shoes," he said. I stood there with
my hard-on arching up from under my t-shirt. "And your shirt," he said, still
grinning. I was totally naked, totally hard.

      "On your knees, faggot." I dropped to my knees, feeling like a faggot.
He laughed. He kicked my knees wide apart with his sneakered feet. He wore
jeans, no socks. I  remember .... the leg-hair on his ankles .... looking so hot.
He brought the toe of his sneakers under my balls and nudged them, making
my hard-on bounce in the air.

     Then he said  "Turn around, wiener-head.  On your hands and knees."
It was automatic. I turned and presented my bare behind to him. My dick was
crazy-hard  along my stomach. My smooth, loose balls hung down  between
my legs. He prodded those danglers around with his shoe.

     Then he traced the inside of my thighs with the toe of his shoe. I started
oozing goo. "You got a hard-on for my feet, don'cha punkboy?" he teased.
"You queer for my dick, Mikey?"

     The toe of his shoe traced the crack of my ass. I pushed into it. Ooooh
fuck! Yeah, man, I am queer for your cock. I am a fag for your feet. You own
my ass. His tennis shoe slipped down over my hole, between my legs, along
the underside of my leaking cock. Shudder. I started humping his funky
sneaker, back and forth, the laces rasping over my hole, my balls, and my
boy-boner. Oooh, oooh, fuck! I shot hard .... all over his shoe .... like a
confirmed punk-bitch .... I .... cum .... for .... you.


     It was another wet-dream for the journal. It was another first   butt sex.
It really surprised me. I was kinda freaked that my hole had something to do
with sex. And I was kinda freaked that   deep down inside   I was so willing
to be punked. And that I liked it. That I actually got OFF on it. I was pulling
some curious fish out of my deep, dark  little pond. Curiouser and curiouser.

     I put it all down in my journal, sitting at my desk, naked and squirming
on my chair, teasing my bonerized wiener, feeling totally naked. I imagined it
was motorhead making me write it all down, and lavished it with detail for
maximum effect. Even as I was writing it all down, I was still freaked by the
'whole' concept of having my ass literally dominated. Like, where the fuck
did that come from?  And it made my dick HARD.


               *********************************


     Meanwhile, back in the real world, the wrestling program was
progressing from strength and endurance work to basic skills. All of us
neophytes worked together, and now and then I was paired up with good old
Cooper. I thought about how erotic this kind of contact could be, but usually
the workouts were so intense and focused that there wasn't much room for
fantasizing, let alone bonerizing. After a few weeks of basic skills, we spent
one practice reviewing videotapes of previous seasons' matches so we could
start learning how to put it all together. Almost accidentally, I ended up
sitting next to Sean on the wrestling mats while the team gathered around the
video screen. I was thrilled on the inside while attempting to stay cool on the
outside. Everyone was wearing the basic wrestling singlette and gym shorts.
The lights were dimmed and coach gave commentary for the on-screen action
while everyone settled in.

     Yikes! I was sitting next to Sean, in his personal space. I was nervous
as a banshee. He knew I had gotten a hard-on over seeing him in the locker-
room, had reminded me of it every day since then with his crotch-pointing
antics. And now he was sitting next to me, apparently unaffected, quiet,
focused on the video and commentary.

     He sat leaning back on his hands with his legs stretched out in front of
him, occasionally rolling his head to the side, a habitual neck-stretch
movement he had. I didn't see much of that video. Instead, I kept lookin' at
his hot, killer hairy legs. I put my legs out in front of me, just like his. My left
leg and his right leg were right next to each other. He edged his leg over to
mine. They were 1/4 inch apart. I could feel the bristly fuzz of his kinky leg
hair brushing on my skin. He held it there, moving it imperceptibly. It was
driving me fucking nuts! My dick got hard, pressed at an angle across my
stomach under the wrestling singlette. It was pointing towards him.

     Then he decided to make himself more comfortable. He took his shoes
and socks off. The aroma of Sean-sweat wafted up from his feet, subtle,
complex,  sweet, only a little acrid, only a little funky. He laid back, fingers
intertwined behind his head to hold it up, while he watched the video. I
turned and looked at him. OOOOOOOH MAN! WAS HE FINE!  Then ....
Then he winked at me. He fucking winked at me. YIKES! Blood pounded in
my temples. My dick flexed involuntarily.

     Before I could think, I lay back beside him, in the same pose.

      My first thought was, holy cow! What was I thinking? Here I am
laying back with a rigid boner for him again, which is now edging up under
the skin-tight layer of my singlette, and poking up past the waistband of my
gym shorts. A bulge for him to see. A bulge for anyone to see. Out of control.
He moved his leg next to mine again, without comment. My situation was
hopeless.

     The tickle of his leg hair on my skin went up my leg to my crotch like
an electric current. I could feel the heat from his body. My boner waxed
glorious for him. Now and then he moved his leg a mere millimeter or two,
lest I should forget where, exactly, I was.

      I cast  side-long glances at him. Once, I saw him looking toward my
crotch. I flexed my dick then. So he could see it. At the same time, I was
openly wondering to myself .... 'What the hell are you DOING?' My dick
was doing all the thinking. I also noticed .... I thought .... that Sean's bulge
seemed a bit generous, but it was hard to tell, angled sideways against his leg
.... under his baggy gym shorts. I thought it was pointing towards me.

     We stayed like that for about 30 minutes, til the end of the video, his
leg against mine, holding our heads up or leaning back on our elbows, me
with an obviously visible hard-on, him with probably some wood. I wished,
god I wished .... it was wood.

     The lights went up. He sat up, Indian style, staring blankly at the
screen. I sat up, too, looking around for the first time in half an hour. I snuck
glances at him. He probably noticed them, in his peripheral vision. After a
few minutes, he stood up. I did too, my dick now only half-hard. Sean turned
to face me. He reached out and pointed at my singlette, right above the
waistband on my stomach. I looked down to see a quarter-sized wet spot. I
looked at his face. He was grinning. I started flushing. He turned away to
start working out. I noticed he shot a look at Cooper, who had been sitting
behind us. Cooper looked away like he hadn't seen any of it. The moment
passed, and practice continued with 2-minute wrestling drills.

     I went to sleep that night thinking about Sean's hairy leg next to mine,
and the sexual energy in the 1/4 inch space between our legs. I thought about
his awesome package, and his sprawling patch of pubic hair. I thought about
him teasing me about getting turned on, pointing at my wet-spot, and hoped
it meant something. The dream I had that night was about him.

     In the dream, we were in my bedroom. He was  wearing only shorts,
bare-chested and barefoot. I was wearing  a t-shirt .... and no pants. That's
just how I remembered the dream beginning. I was laying on the floor on my
back, looking up at him standing beside me. I had a steel hard-on. (Big
Surprise!). He told me to spread my legs apart and put the soles of my feet
together. I did it. Totally exposed. The unspoken understanding was .... my
hard  wiener  was all his.

     Then he kneeled beside me. He got shaving cream and lathered my
crotch. All slow and deliberate. He got a safety razor and started shaving my
pubes.

      He told me he was shaving my pubes cause I was just a boy. He told
me to hold still and watch while he shaved me clean. It was for my own
good. A boy like me didn't need any pubic hair. If I needed to see some real
teen-stud pubes, it would have to be his. And besides, this would make my
perky little boy-boner look bigger. My dick was rigid. He moved it around as
he worked.

     In a few minutes, all of my pubic hair was gone. Totally gone. He
looked at it with an approving smile. He rubbed the smooth skin with his
fingers and said, "aaahhh .... nice and smooth." Then he shaved the thin skin
of my ball-sack silky-smooth. He said he wanted my hard cock totally naked
for him. It was. I felt totally exposed, totally hard for him.

     Then he said, "but that's not quite enough." He grabbed a black magic
marker.  "Everyone's gonna see you're just a boy, but they also need to know
WHOSE boy."

      "Hold still," he said. He started drawing substitute pubes, a maze of
curly-cues all around the base of my dick. I watched the flexing muscles of
his hand as he marked me with bold, firm strokes. He had an expression of
focused concentration. My boy-hard dick was leaking as he moved it around.
When he was done, he pulled my oozing boner downward and let go. It
slapped against my belly.

     "Perfect," he said, capping the magic marker,  "Go look in the mirror."

     I went to the full-length mirror on the back of my bedroom door and
looked at myself. My crotch was totally smooth, my cherished pubic hair
gone. The magic marker curly-cues only called more attention to my hairless
state, framing my naked boner in stark contrast. Then I looked closer at the
artwork. In the midst of the intricate design I could clearly make out letters.
They spelled out "SEAN," in reverse, forming a semicircle above my cock. It
marked me as his. Then the dream dissolved.

     I woke up, startled and very horny. The loss of my hard-earned crotch-
hair .... was so unexpectedly contrary to my usual way of thinking .... and
such an embarrassment .... but there was no denying how desperately,
urgently horny it made me. It took only a minute to spew as I kneeled on my
bed, light-stroking and thinking of Sean coming into my bedroom and
shaving me clean. The dream stuck in my head. Of course, I poured it into my
journal.