Everyone is 18.

It all started when Teddy got his own room, near the beginning of this school year. Our parents had been using the extra bedroom as a home office for most of our lives, forcing us to share a room for some reason, and when my dad finally migrated everything to the newly built annex, we got our own rooms. Teddy claimed the new space immediately since it’s bigger and has large windows overlooking the woods behind our house. He moved his stuff over in like twenty minutes, including his bed. I didn’t even know he was done until I walked into “my” room and saw that all his crap was gone. The excitement of finally having my own private masturbation sanctuary was undercut by a strange sensation that something was “missing” now.

I wasn’t used to sleeping with more than six feet of carpet between me and Teddy. Besides a few slips here and there, we were both typically modest about the shared space. We didn’t get naked in front of each other. We had developed sort of an unspoken code and learned not to look.

I heard him, though, almost every night.

I believe he tried to wait until I fell asleep. But honestly, my routine became to just get really quiet, to give him space enough to spank his meat while believing he had acquired some of that coveted privacy which was a priceless commodity between us. Once he thought the coast was clear, the gentle, rhythmic rustling would begin under his blanket, the dim light from his phone screen lighting up his face, his ear buds on. Occasionally, I could even sense his breathing change. And a few times, I heard him moan a little bit. 

I never said anything. I gave him his privacy out loud, and in my own bed, under my own covers, I joined him, quietly, finishing into a different sock or pair of underwear. That became a habit, and happened pretty much every time.

I honestly believed it was just the proximity and hormones in the air that made me do it. Hell, I needed a release as much as he did. It was just the timing, and the shower wanks were only so satisfying compared to the comfort of my warm bed. Two guys in the same room, same hormones rushing through us would lead us to a little proximal jerking off. 

Obviously, the smell of built-up cum rags was a giveaway that we were both engaged in the same bodily routines, but it never became a spoken thing, and he never mentioned if he knew what I knew.

But after a few weeks of having my own room and spanking it openly anytime I wanted, I started to miss Teddy.

I started noticing him more, and wanting his company. I was weirdly afraid to ask for it, though. I missed just bullshitting, sitting on our beds, and I missed the clandestine evening wank sessions, as weird as that sounds.

The first time I saw him naked after that was an accident. He came out of the bathroom in the hallway, towel over his shoulder, his fully body uncovered, dick hanging out, half hard. I was right there coming around the corner. Neither of us expected it. He covered himself with one hand while he held the towel with the other and I caught it before I looked away. He had a boner. Not a full one but it was not a rested-state dong. I didn't say anything about it. I looked at the wall.

“Sorry,” he chuckled, “Thought I was alone.”

"Didn't even see that much of you back when we shared a room," I said.

He grinned. "Yeah, well."

“Try to keep it contained, Mister Big Cock,” I said for some reason as I walked past him.

He chuckled and turned back to me. I heard him stop and turned my head. He dropped his hand and wiggled his hips, making it flop around, showing off its size even more. 

“Can’t keep this thing hidden forever.”

I noted that he was indeed bigger than me, some internal competition I never even knew I had coming to the surface. I chalked it up to him being a couple years older, but I knew it was an actual difference beyond that.

I went to my room and didn't think about it. I just loaded up some gooner porn on twitter and spanked myself silly, letting my new hobby do its thing and make me forget about the world for a bit.

But I thought about it that night, when I was alone in the room.

—[]—

A few weeks later I was walking past his room and the door wasn't fully closed. I glanced in as a reflex, and Teddy was standing at his desk pulling up his underwear. His laptop was open to some porn site that was instantly recognizable as smut. I paused, and noticed that I could hear the low audio from it, just barely. He didn't see me, and I kept walking.

I went to my room and locked the door and I instantly went at it on my hog like I was trying to choke the thing. I didn’t even pull up any porn. It was fast and uncontrollable, kind of desperate in a way. I finished in about thirty seconds, spraying my floor without even aiming, breathing hard, not even sure what image I had used to bring me over the edge. The release hit me hard enough that I had to hold onto the edge of my desk for balance as I waddled to my bed, my pants around my ankles.

I collapsed and lay there for a second breathing.

Then I got up and walked to the living room, finding Teddy there on the couch in sweatpants. We didn’t acknowledge each other, which was normal, and I sat next to him and we watched TV for several hours as we played on our phones.

—[]—

The holidays were the worst.

Family came in and out on a daily basis. Cousins stayed over. My parents were home around the clock. For about ten days we lost the run of the house and I ended up in Teddy's new room on an air mattress, which my mom thought was a fun throwback and which I found completely insane.

Teddy thought it was funny. He made a whole production of it, cleared floor space, dug out the air mattress from the closet. "Just like old times," he said.

“Sure,” I said on the first night as I lay down, my old instincts coming back immediately, but with a little built up tension in them. 

I did my old habit of pretending to sleep, waiting to see if it would happen.

I listened to him breathe, a few feet away from me, thinking about nothing I was supposed to be thinking about, the anticipation giving me a reflexive boner before I even started on myself. But he didn't do anything. Soon he was making sleep sounds, and neither of us got off that night. For the next week and a half I went to bed each night, glancing over at Teddy, peaking at the shape of his body, looking for signs that we were going to engage in our unspoken routine of jerking off in the same room. I wondered again if he knew about it, or if he really just thought I was asleep the whole time. 

Either way, it appeared to have ended, the chapter closed. It didn’t feel right to get off in Teddy’s room if he wasn’t doing it as well, and I went ten days only spanking it in the shower, plus a few trips to the bathroom at school of course.

When the cousins left, and everyone cleared out, and I went back to my own room, and Teddy closed the door to his room, I felt it like a book was closing. The story was over, and it was time to move on. There was some amount of grief, but I guess we all move on from these things eventually.

—[]—

But, of course, some things don’t change. 

I was in my room one night, late, doing nothing in particular, already spent as I had blown my load several times since getting home, just dicking around in my gaming chair, looking at YouTube on my laptop when I heard a specific noise through the wall. It was… porn? I took off my headphones, and, just barely, I confirmed what it was.

I raised an eyebrow. 

Okay, so there’s that, i thought to myself.

We had always had this wing of the house to ourselves most of the time. My parents' room was on the other end of the hall. When they were home they were home, but their side of the house was their side. Teddy and I had figured that out a long time ago, which is why we got away with hijinx over the years, as long as our parents weren’t in their office at the time.

I sat there for a second, my hand drifting on its own down to my crotch, feeling for myself through my underwear, judging myself subconsciously on size, reminding myself I was “bigger than average… probably”.

Then the sounds from his side of the wall got louder, and I felt a small rush in my body. I did what I'd always done, except with impunity now. I pulled my underwear down, hooked them below my balls, and started spanking my boy meat like I was starting a lawnmower. It felt the same as the shared room, but with the freedom to whip it out openly. And this time, technically, we were even closer than before, just a couple feet away on the other side of the wall. I never even thought before how close we were this whole time, until he suddenly decided to go full audio.

I actually recognized the video at some point. The same “Girl takes multiple big dicks” type of video I had grown to love almost exclusively. I looked up the one I thought it was, and tried to sync it on my own laptop. I knew it because I'd watched it myself more than once.

He likes the same freaky shit I do, I thought to myself, grinning at no one.

I heard it skip to the end, and then suddenly cut off after the big face splattering ending. Knowing his habits of how long he liked to tease himself, I figured he wasn’t done yet. He was just deciding what to put on next.

I looked at my laptop, and got an idea. I would decide the next video.

I put something on, in the same category, and switched the audio to computer speakers. I turned it up a bit. The apparently thin walls were certainly carrying the message over to Teddy. No more noise came from his side, and I edged myself slowly to the video on my side of the wall, hoping that he was on the other side with me. 

My clip was short, and when it ended I paused the autoplay, my heart racing as I waited to see if he would continue this new game of ours. I waited for probably twenty seconds, sweating, wondering if I was just imagining things.

Then he put something on. Bodies clapped together audibly through his speakers and I stood up at my desk, almost jumping for joy as I held onto my ding dong, nodding my head to the gentle soundtrack accompanying his video. I didn’t even need to see it. I was getting off just knowing that we were sharing.

We went back and forth like that for a while. One video ended, and the next started on each side of the wall, just the innocent exchange of it, back and forth in the dark. I'd finish one and he'd start one. He'd let his go quiet and I'd pick it up. It had a rhythm to it. It felt like a conversation in some language we had only just now confirmed the other could speak. 

I realized we had the same taste. Not just similar, but the same. The specific sub-genres of large cocks stuffing these holes, the same niche stuff I'd always assumed was just my own private weird corner of the internet. He was there too. He'd been there the whole time.

Then he put on a compilation. He made his speakers louder than anything he'd played before. I knew the video immediately. I had come back to it many times to “finish the job”, and I instinctively knew that we had mutually agreed on the end game. My poor dick was aching for release, and i pulled up the same video.

In seconds I felt the tension rise from my lower crotch through my dick and I blasted out the largest, most watery nut of my life onto my body. I had never seen it come out so clear before. My body was expelling every ounce of fluid it had in response to the most sexual experience of my life so far. I was shocked that it went to far, getting on my lips and dripping down my neck, puddling around my abs, before subsequent streaks turned into the gooey squirts of cloudy whiteness that I was used to. I tensed my ass as I finished strong, squeezing the tip to milk out the last drop, impressed with my body for performing like that. I melted into my chair and held my messy dick, not looking forward to cleaning up my body or my chair.

We finished within a minute of each other, judging by his speakers cutting out only a few seconds after I had blasted off and turned off my own. I could tell by the quiet that settled in on his side that he was as relaxed as I was. The silence had a particular quality to it, the post orgasm flood of positive vibes, with no shame.

I lay back in my chair, staring at the ceiling.

My phone vibrated.

Teddy: That was fun.

There was a photo attached, is desk. The evidence of a dozen watery, clearish white streaks puddling on top of it. It was voluminous. I chuckled to myself. Just when I thought I was a man, he proves yet again that there are higher peaks to conquer. I stared at the photo that should have been shocking, but was somehow expected at this point.

I texted him back: Mine was big too.

Teddy responded after a minute: We’ll have to compare next time.

—[]—

Teddy and I didn’t exactly talk about what we did, but the last text he sent me ran through my mind for days.

We'll have to compare next time.

And it came with a picture of his cum all over the desk. I hadn't responded to it. I'd read it probably forty times and typed out a few different things and deleted all of them. And waking up the next day, I saw him in the hall on the way to the bathroom, and found myself subconsciously trying to see if he had morning wood. My head felt different.

And I started noticing things I hadn't paid attention to before.

Teddy was in the kitchen in the morning, his shirt off, pouring milk in cereal. The width of his back and the definition of his shoulders were kind of… aesthetic? I noticed the way his sweatpants sat on his hips. He actually had real cum gutters. I'd seen him like this a million times and it had never registered the way it did now. I'd be in the middle of eating and catch myself tracking him across the kitchen, and then I'd look back down at my food.

I started clocking his body in a specific way. If he'd been in his room for a while and then came out, I'd notice whether his bulge was “active” or not, like if he was half hard. I got good at reading it fast, the slight change in how his shorts would hang. I wasn't always sure but I was getting a better picture than I had before. It became a kind of low-grade background activity for my brain, involuntary.

He didn’t bring up the session we had, and I couldn’t find the words to bring it up myself.

—[]—

We were on the couch together one night, just the two of us. It wasn’t unusual. We did this all the time. But while he flipped through some streaming TV options, he had one leg up on the cushion, fully relaxed in a specific way that kind of gave me visual access to his nether regions. I was on my phone next to him, or pretending to be, while out of the corner of my eye, I looked at his crotch.

I was aware of exactly how far away his knee was from my leg. About four inches. I was aware of it the entire time we sat there.

When I saw some movement in his crotch, my eyes darted over. I watched as he stayed still, and his rocket basically took off in his pants. His meat thickened along his left thigh, and I could see the thick shaft grow into a tube of manhood through the fabric. I gulped with no saliva in my mouth when I saw the head of it through the leg hole of his shorts. My heart skipped a beat.

I looked up from his crotch and he was already looking at me. It was just a quick glance that hadn't moved on yet. He looked back at the TV without saying anything. I looked back at my phone and shifted to adjust my boner.

Stuff like that happened a couple more times over the next week, him already looking when I looked up. Nothing was spoken, but I couldn’t stop thinking about it.

—[]—

About a week after the session in our rooms, I heard him through the wall again. Same as before, unmistakable porn sounds. It had to be on purpose. I lay there for a second with my hand on my stomach, thinking about it.

Then I picked up my phone and texted him.

Want to come over?

I watched the screen. Three dots appeared almost immediately. Then they disappeared. Then his response came.

lol nah

I put the phone face down on my chest and stared at the ceiling.

I finished on my own, quietly, and it was fine, it was the same as it had always been before any of this started, completely adequate. I lay there after and thought about the "lol" in his text, the way it was dismissive and light, and disappointing, but it didn't quite close the door. In my head it was a “not yet” rather than a no.

I decided it was just a matter of time. I don't know what I was basing that on. But it felt true.

—[]—

A few days later I was digging through the closet in the hall looking for a specific hoodie and pulled out one of Teddy's by accident. I held it up.

"Did you wear this?" I called toward his open door.

He leaned out. "Yeah."

I walked over to his doorway.

"You stretched the neck out."

He chuckled. “Well you borrowed my shit all the time. Sorry my big head did that though.”

"Yeah,” I said, “We shared everything when we were in the same room."

He looked at me for a second. "We've shared more than clothes at this point."

He turned back to his computer. I stood in the hall holding the hoodie, not moving for a moment. Then I hung it back up and went to my room and closed the door.

—[]—

On a Tuesday night at almost 1am, I texted him. We both had class in the morning and I did it anyway.

You up?

yeah

Can't sleep.

same

I lay there trying to figure out if I was going to say the next thing or not. I typed it out. Deleted it. Typed it again.

Still thinking about that one night.

A long pause this time. I almost fell asleep.

me too

It was different doing it together.

yeah

Even through the wall.

Imagine in person, he sent.

I read that three times.

Yeah, I sent back.

Another pause. I waited, my phone in both hands.

Anyway. Night.

Night.

I put my phone down and lay there in the dark for a long time not sleeping. I was mad at myself for not pushing it. But maybe this was the way. I didn’t even know what I wanted, but I knew it was going to be in person with him.

—[]—

Two nights later, I got home late from a team thing, and his door was open when I walked past. All the way open. He was at his desk in his gaming chair, laptop in front of him. He heard me in the hall and turned his head.

I stopped and gave him a “sup” style nod.

"Missed you tonight," he said.

I chuckled. “Oh yeah?”

He rolled his chair back, and his erect dick was in full view. His shorts were absent completely. Just my bro, his body, and an unbuttoned polo shirt. My heart skipped a beat as my jaw dropped.

“Yeah,” he said smoothly. His voice was even.

I walked in.

He was already rubbing himself, his one hand moving up and down on his pole. I'd seen him through a cracked door, I'd seen him in a towel in the hallway, I'd seen the photo of his load on the desk. None of that was the same as this. It was close range, him not covering anything or adjusting. He was hard and touching himself with porn playing, and he let me look without comment.

He was bigger than I'd registered before, by a couple inches actually.

He nodded at the spare chair next to him. I pulled it up and sat down, leaving maybe eighteen inches between us. The laptop was open on the desk, a video running. He pulled out one airpod and handed it to me, I put it in and listened to bodies clapping against each other, wet squishy sounds and moans, male and female. I didn’t care about any of that, just the fact that it was making my older genetic lookalike hard and horny, and that made me horny.

I pulled my shorts down and got myself out. It was the first time we'd been side by side like this. As many times as I knew he was doing it in his bed, but I never thought we would get this open. I tried to keep my eyes forward, but he was driving me crazy just by existing. We jerked it silently, except for a few quiet moans from him, almost like little grunts. I was suddenly self conscious about how I spanked it, wondering if he would judge the way I used my fist. I didn’t want to give my balls the workout they were used to, until I saw him start doing it. I reached down and started tugging on my sack, just the way I like it.

“Nice,” he said casually. I smiled at myself. I had never really cared about validation from him before, but for this, it suddenly seemed like everything I ever needed. 

We sat like that for a few minutes. It was strange but it wasn't. My body was fully involved before I had time to think about whether it should be.

—[]—

"You know what would be really cool?" Teddy said, not looking away from the screen.

"What."

"A blowjob."

“Haven’t you had one before?”

"I mean right now."

I didn't say anything for a second. "Yeah," I said. "That’d be awesome."

"A mouth is a mouth," he said.

I gulped.

He reached over and put his hand on the back of my head. Slow enough that I had time to move out of the way if I wanted to, but I didn’t even flinch. His hand was warm and he applied just enough pressure to make the direction clear.

I went with it, looking down at his hard dick as my face got closer to it.

The physical reality of it arrived quicker than my brain registered it. I had his warm, salty shaft in my mouth before I'd really had time to think about it. His hand stayed on the back of my head as I let his body part soak in my mouth. He gently gripped my hair, reminding me he was present. I rolled my tongue around it and felt it pulse against the inside of my cheek. I let go of myself and focused on what I was doing with him, adjusting as I went, figuring it out. I moved my head up and down, mimicking the girls in the videos, and I was surprised by how straightforward it felt. There was no hesitation in my body, even when my brain was several steps behind.

His free hand found my shoulder, then moved down my back, rubbing me gently, telling me wordlessly that he liked what I was doing. He reached around to my chest and squeezed like my pecs were little titties. His hand moved further down my chest then back around to my bare ass that was sticking out. He reached for my round boy meat and palmed it, squeezing gently. And I heard him make a quiet sound of approval.

"Wow," he said. "Bubbly."

I didn't respond. I kept going.

He licked his fingers. I registered what that meant a second before I felt it. His hand went back to my ass and I kept myself still as I let him stick a finger inside me. The physical sensation was new enough that I had no reference for it, nothing to compare it to. But I liked that he was doing it to me.

One finger turned into two and maybe three, while I gently nursed the leaking shaft in my mouth, gulping down the drops of pre-cum that I was getting every few seconds.

"Could I…?" he said.

I came off his shaft and held it in my hand. As much as I liked what we were doing, my jaw was getting sore. I bit my lip, wondering if I was making the right choice as I stood up and turned toward his desk, bending over to let him have full access to my ass, to do whatever he wanted to me.

He positioned himself behind me with both hands on my hips until I was where he wanted me, leaning forward, my palms flat on the desk surface. The laptop was still open, the porn still playing.

He took his time getting into position, using a lot of spit, and a bit of hand lotion from his desk. Then the pressure started, and I held onto the edge of the desk and breathed through the first part of it, which was the hardest part. My grip tightened on the desk and I let out a breath and kept breathing. It got easier when the thicker part got in, but I was running on pure adrenaline at this point.

“It feels ok,” I whispered. “You can go in all the way.”

He leaned forward and I felt him open me up fully. His pubes touched my body, and I felt a sense of completion. It still hurt, but I kind of liked it. It was more than I expected to ever happen, but it felt right.

After a couple of minutes something shifted. The discomfort didn't disappear but it moved to the background. I became aware of tingling instead, the weight of him as he leaned against me, the slight movements he made, being so gentle with my body. The heat of his hands on my hips, the way they held tighter intermittently as he held still inside me, a gentle pulse telling me he was trying not to cum.

He finally went still and I felt it happen inside me, specific and unmistakable pulsing, only this time I was feeling it on my insides. He breathed hot against my neck as I felt his body melt behind me, his weight coming down on my back. He stayed there for a second after, catching his breath.

Then his hand came around my front and wrapped around my desperate pole. I was hard as hell and ready to bust. My legs were unsteady and I leaned back against him, my weight shifting to pull his still-hard organ deeper inside me. He held me up without comment and his hand started moving.

"There's a good boy," he said, quietly, breathing into my ear.

My whole body responded to that phrase. I finished in seconds, spraying onto the surface of his desk, exactly like his load he had sent me. My eyes closed, his arm across my chest holding me up, my strength faltering.

He pulled out slowly after and I straightened up. I stood there for a second, my hands still on the desk. I was aware of the absence of him in my ass, the new unfamiliar quality of it. I became aware of another kind of relief too, the release of pressure I hadn't known I'd been holding.

I looked at the desk. The mess he’d yanked out of me onto it.

I looked at Teddy, he was sort of just waiting to see what I’d say. Neither of us could come back from that, so it was sort of just a shared, weird, not terrible feeling.

“That was… cool.”

He smiled nervously. “Yeah.”

“I gotta shower,” I said.

He just nodded, reaching for his underwear on the floor. I checked out his ass when he bent over. I still felt weird about it, but I raised an eyebrow anyway.

—[]—

I went to the bathroom and got in the shower and stood under the water for a while. The heat helped me focus. I didn't think about anything specific, I just stood there until the water started cooling.

I dried off and went to my room and got into bed.

I lay in the dark for a few minutes. Then I felt myself get hard again, thinking about the night. I quickly and quietly deposited a load into my sheets, not even bothering to grab a sock, and I lay there after with my arm over my eyes until I fell asleep.

Everyone is 18.

Chapter 1: No Homo

There are two Dereks on the team.

Derek S. has been there since freshman year. He's a decent shortstop and a complete dick, and everyone mostly tolerates him because he's decent at shortstop. Derek D. showed up at the start of this season, transferred in, a year older than everyone because he skipped one somewhere along the way. I was aware of him, since he was a good player at another school,  but nobody really knew him yet.

I noticed him at the first practice, the way everyone sort of did. He stood out as a bigger dude. Not taller exactly, just broader through the shoulders, thicker body with a lot of meat on him. When he threw, he made it look easy, even though he was outshining the rest of us with every move. When he ran, he aroused the thought of a train rushing down a track. Dude had momentum.

His attitude was serious about baseball, but jovial about everything else. He was likable, and that was as immediately apparent as his large shoulders.

Then there was showers.

I don't make a habit of looking, but Derek made it difficult not to watch. He had the best “definition” on the team, and it was obvious that we were all a mix of jealous and in awe of the guy. On top of that, he didn’t seem to have a shy bone in his body. He walked to the center of the shower area on the first day, openly glancing around at the guys in our individual stalls looking for a shower head for himself, just nodding as if to say “sup?” to individuals when they looked back, wondering why he was so cavalier.

He wasn’t even wearing a towel, not in any rush toward modesty, no apparent awareness that other people might be having a slightly different experience of the situation than he was. I couldn’t stop looking at him. He had such a different personality than the rest of us. He caught his own reflection in the foggy mirror while he was waiting for a shower to open up, and he adjusted his stance. Rolled his shoulders back. Flexed one arm slowly, just checking himself out.

Somebody wolf-whistled, and the rest of the guys poked their heads out of their stalls to see what was happening. He grinned and flexed harder.

I turned back to my own locker.

A few weeks in, there had been a few group hangouts with the team, and he and I were friendly. I respected his game. He'd nod at me in the hallway. That was about the whole relationship.

Then one Saturday afternoon I saw his Instagram story.

He was at the beach, apparently by himself on a run. I zoomed in on the pic to confirm that he was at the section that was right by my house. Not to flex, but I lived on the “cool” side of town, which was actually kind of far from where Derek lived. So he was out this way, for whatever reason, and I stared at my phone for about a full minute, just thinking.

I opened his DMs.

Yo are you still at the beach?

He replied in about twenty seconds. Yeah why

I typed: My mom is making that good shit if you want to come by. 

Then I stared at that for a second. I'd never once told this guy about my mom's cooking. I didn't know why I said it like that. I cringed at myself, insecurity coming up. But I had already hit send.

Sure! he wrote back. Just like that.

I gave him my address. He was there in ten minutes.

My mom didn't miss a beat. She set another place before he even had his shoes off. My dad shook his hand and immediately started asking him about his mechanics, which Derek seemed genuinely into, and the two of them were talking baseball before I'd even sat down. My little sister ignored him entirely, which is how she treats everyone, and somehow that made him laugh.

He ate a lot. Mom loved that.

We went back to my room after and played games for a while. He was better than I expected. We talked some trash, getting a little competitive. He elbowed me once to distract me, but it was harder than I expected. I dropped my controller.

“Oh shit, sorry!” he said, dropping his own and forgetting about the game.

He put his large hand on my ribcage, spreading his palm flat and rubbing his thumb in a little circle over my shirt, warm and strong. “You all right, dude?”

“Yeah,” I said out of instinct, looking down at his hand comforting me. I smiled a bit.

We kept playing for a long time. It got dark. We didn’t pay attention to the clock.

My parents had mostly stopped policing me at all when it came to my friends being over. Things were good at school, grades were fine, I wasn't giving them anything to worry about. My older brother had been a different story, so I think by the time they got to me they were just relieved. If someone was still here at midnight, my mom would stop by with a snack for us and that was the extent of it.

At some point Derek looked at his phone and made a face.

"It's late," I said.

"Yeah."

"Just tell your mom you're gonna crash here." I said it pretty casually. I wasn't sure why my chest tensed a little right after.

He raised his eyebrows. "That's cool?"

"Yeah, def."

He texted someone, tossed his phone on the carpet, and that was that.

I got up to change and just dropped my jeans and my shirt, which left me in my underwear. I normally sleep without anything on, but I left them on for his sake.

Derek looked over from the chair. "Nice undies," he said.

"Thanks," I said, suddenly more aware of myself.

My mom knocked and came in with a full armload, blankets, a sleeping bag, one of those travel pillows she buys in bulk for like, no reason. I guess she put it together already that he was staying over. She’s always weirdly one step ahead of me mentally. She set them on the floor near the foot of the bed and told Derek it was nice to meet him, and he said it was nice to meet her too, and the way he said it was a bit warm, like he genuinely liked my mom. And I liked that.

When she left, he started sorting through the stuff she'd brought. I was under my covers with my phone in my hand, checking on the texts and things of the day.

"My bed is huge," I said, not looking up. "You can just hop in if you want."

He paused, looked at the bed, looked at the pile on the floor.

"I'm down," he said. "No homo."

We both snickered. He kicked off his jeans and got in on the other side.

He took up a lot of space. I was aware of his volume and the weight of him making the bed curl into his side. The mattress shifted when he moved. There was heat coming off him. He smelled like the beach still, a little, not bad.

We talked for a long time. I don't even know what about, mostly nothing. He said my family was cool.

"I mean, not always," I said.

"Don't say that, dude."

"Why not? It's true."

"It could be a lot worse," he said. He wasn't joking anymore.

I looked over at him. He was staring at the ceiling.

"Your parents aren't cool?" I asked.

"My dad is no good," he said. Just like that. Simple sentence. He didn't follow it with anything.

I didn't push it. We lay there for a minute in the quiet.

We fell asleep.

—[]—

I woke up in the dark and couldn't figure out what had changed.

Then I figured it out. He had moved. At some point he'd rolled toward me, and his arm was across my chest, and he was holding on tight. His hand had my shirt and his grip was solid. Some part of him needed me in that moment. That was the sense I got. He was definitely asleep, which I could tell from the lack of quiet in his breathing. Maybe he was having a bad dream. He'd just moved here on his own, in the dark, and held on to me, his hand cupping my pec, his chest tight and warm against the back of me.

I curled up tighter and stayed still. He was bigger than me and this was a lot of contact.

I eventually went back to sleep, feeling his breath on the back of me in a perfect rhythm.

—[]—

In the morning I woke up and his arm was still around me, but we had both shifted. I had a sensation in my crotch like I had wet the bed or something, but just a little. It took me a moment to recognize it. It had been a while since anything like that had happened, but I knew what it was.

“Oh shit,” I muttered aloud in my hazy, partial wakefulness. 

Derek shifted onto his back, still half sleeping, exhaling slowly. I was still for a second, wondering how to deal with myself without making it a thing. Derek opened his eyes, looking at the ceiling as his hand moved under the covers to his crotch. A bit of morning wood added to the bulge there, and he nudged his junk around like he was adjusting himself. He turned his head and looked at me. Then he looked at the ceiling again.

"Yo," he said.

"Hey."

"I think I had a wet dream."

I didn't say anything for a second, I started smiling. I would’ve laughed if I was fully awake.

“Brooo,” he sighed, “Don’t body shame me.”

"No," I said. “So did I.”

He smiled back at me. “Really?”

“Yeah.”

We started chuckling, a bond forming between us, unspoken.

"I thought we said no homo," he said.

"We did say that."

"Mm."

I told him he could shower first. My bathroom is right next to my room, one door over, so he got up and stretched, breathing life into his body. His muscles were glowing in the morning light from my window, casting the shadow of Adonis on my wall. It actually looked kind of cool. He dropped his stained underwear right in front of me, then bent over to pick them up. I could see the pink hole between his glutes, which made me pause. 

Male nudity wasn’t new. I’d been in sports, but this was just the two of us. I never changed fully naked in front of my brother or anything like that. Derek’s dick hung over his balls different than mine. He was thicker than me down there, and a slightly different shape. His pubes were more abundant than mine. I almost thought about asking if he trimmed them. I chuckled internally and didn’t say anything as he stepped out of my room and into the bathroom.

He came out with a towel around his waist, hair wet, and started going through his clothes on the floor. 

“Here’s some clean underwear and socks,” I said, tossing them to him from my drawer. 

“Nice. Could I borrow a shirt too?”

“Sure, in there,” I said.

He started to go through my closet as I stepped out.

When I came out he was dressed and sitting in my chair, scrolling his phone. We talked about nothing while I got ready. I faced away from him and dropped my towel to pull on my clothes, and I felt a small rush doing it.

"Get your cute little ass ready," Derek said, not looking up from his phone, "and we'll get bagels before school."

"Bet," I said.

I didn't say anything about the “cute little ass” part. I just found my jeans.

Before we left my room, he stopped and turned to me, one hand on his backpack strap. 

“Thanks for letting me crash,” he said with a little smirk. 

I just nodded.

He reached out to give me a bro hug with his free arm, and gave me a quick kiss on my cheek, which was not a normal thing to do in my circle of guys.

I didn’t react. We got our stuff together and walked to school. We talked about practice. We talked about the game on Friday. 

In class, I couldn’t really focus. All I could think about was Derek.

Chapter 2: School

I spent the morning on cloud nine. I was just excited about my new friend. I thought about him and the feeling I had when we admitted that we had both had wet dreams. As soon as we parted at the front of the school, both of us heading to our respective first period classes, he was on my mind. It felt like nothing could break my stride. 

I saw him in the hallway mid-morning, before homeroom.

He was coming from the other direction, his backpack over one shoulder, talking to someone I didn't know. He looked up and saw me from maybe thirty feet away. He didn't wave or say anything. He just smirked. I could tell it was a small, private thing, meant for me. Then he kept walking.

I kept walking too.

I thought about that smirk for the next two periods.

At lunch I was sitting with some other baseball guys, and Derek found me. He sat down at my table across from me and started chatting with everyone, seamlessly dropping into the conversation. Even though he was newer at our school, it seemed like everyone already really liked him. He helped himself to one of my chips without asking, and started talking to me directly about the upcoming game. It was like we were old friends already. We had a rapport.

Someone said something about their Dad, and then turned to Derek. “Hey, what’s your family like?”

His face got a little solemn. He paused. “Mom good. Dad… no good.”

The rest of us nodded a bit, not really sure how to ingest that. Derek turned back to me and started talking again. I felt like, in some way, I was his comfort blanket. I didn’t even know if that was in my head, but I got a sense that I gave him some sort of ease and comfort that he needed. Just a hunch.

I ate my sandwich and let him talk, and felt unreasonably good about all of it.

—[]—

Practice was… sharp. Derek was locked in, which made everyone else lock in, which was one of the things he did without seeming to try. He had that effect. He hit well, he moved well, and when he caught a bad throw in the dirt and came up with it cleanly, somebody on the bench made a noise and he just tossed the ball back like it was nothing.

I played well too. I was aware of him watching when I was up.

When we hit the showers, Derek was in the middle of it the way he tended to be since he arrived. He would wander out from his stall, shamelessly letting it all hang out while he chatted with the other guys, letting his shower run, not in any rush, talking to those on either side of him or even across the room. This day, the second time he came out of his stall to chat, he had soap suds piled onto his crotch to cover his junk. He made some guys look for a laugh.

“Where do you get all this energy, even after practice?” someone asked him.

“I sleep eight hours,” he said smiling.

"I had the worst sleep of my life last night," someone said. It was Kowalski, I think. He was always complaining about something.

"Why?"

"Gotta be honest,” he said, “Horniness. And I woke up to a wet dream. I hate those things. Woke me up at like three-am."

A few guys groaned in sympathy.

"I had two in one night once," somebody offered from the back. "Cleaned up, went back to sleep, boom. Second one. I was like, what is happening to my body."

Laughter.

"I've actually never had one," said Torres.

"That's not a flex," Derek said, rinsing his hair.

"I didn't say it was."

“I just had one last night,” Derek said, and the guys nodded along, like he was setting the tone.

"What about you?" Kowalski said, looking at me.

I was rinsing off. I glanced over. Derek had his eyes on me, mild, waiting.

"Had one last night too," I said, a bit of nerves taking over my face. I looked at Derek when I said the next part. "We were in the same bed."

The room went quiet for half a second.

Derek grinned, full and easy-going, as usual.

"That sucks," said Kowalski. “Probably felt super gay.”

"Nah," Derek said. "It happened to both of us. Bonding moment."

Somebody laughed. The noise came back. Derek finally started rinsing off. I had a strange feeling like some tension had arisen, and then suddenly, was perfectly resolved.

Derek and I dressed next to each other afterward. Derek pulled on his shirt and looked at me.

“Some guys said they wanted to come watch the game at my place on Saturday.”

“Cool.”

"You should come," he said.

"Yeah, I'm down," I said.

"Could do another…” He paused. “Sleepover thing…" He said it with a tiny hint of suggestion, just barely. I felt myself light up a bit, definitely unable to contain my expression.

"Yeah, I’m down," I said.

He nodded and that was that.

—[]—

Saturday morning, Derek texted the group chat that his Mom was having a thing and he couldn’t have us over. My disappointment was instant and immeasurable. Without even asking my parents, I immediately answered in the chat.

“Everyone come to mine instead.”

I got five reaction emojis. It was on.

Derek showed up at my place around 3:45 with a backpack. We were just getting adjusted on the floor of my room, waiting for others to start to arrive while my Mom made snacks. I checked my phone to find that Torres had texted the group chat saying he got grounded. Two minutes later, Mikey texted: Sorry too busy playing Madden. Which, okay. I texted the chat to ask if anyone else was still coming. Half didn’t answer, and the other half said no for various reasons.

So it was just Derek and me.

“Mom!” I yelled from my room.

“What!” she yelled back, making Derek chuckle.

“No one else is coming!”

“Ok!”

We watched the game for a bit, got bored when we could see it was a blowout against our favored team, and pulled up some video games. Naturally, the hours flew by and we ended up playing until we started yawning, not even realizing how much time had passed. We were alone, the rest of the house having gone quiet.

At some point Derek reached into his backpack and put something on the bed between us.

I looked at it. It was some sort of plastic tube, like a pringles can but with a wider end. Some PVC thing I would expect to be at the bottom of a shed in my crazy uncle’s backyard.

"What’s that?" I said.

"This," he said as he pulled off the end. 

There was a pink, plastic pussy shape under the cap, leading to the rest of the tube. I squinted for a second, knowing I recognized the idea before realizing what it was. My heart skipped a beat and I felt my face flush.

“Is that a fleshlight?”

“The best one,” he said, his face as excited as I had ever seen it. “No more wet dreams for us.”

I laughed. “Where’d you get it?”

“I’ll tell you later.”

I was intrigued. I was horny. I had butterflies in my stomach as I imagined what we were going to get up to.

He leaned back against the headboard and crossed his arms, completely comfortable with himself. "You're a virgin, right?"

I looked at him. "What?"

"Are you."

"I mean." I paused. "Yeah."

He nodded like that confirmed something. "You need to know what you're doing before you're actually doing it. That's the closest thing to real pussy besides actual pussy." 

He said it like he was explaining a piece of equipment, matter-of-factly like this was just a normal thing guys did.

I looked at the box.

"I'm not…" I started.

"I'll talk you through it," he said.

“I mean…” I started, but didn’t even know what to say. I crawled into bed and lowered my shorts and underwear, exposing myself under the blanket, already getting a rush just from that. He leaned closer to me, still on top of the covers, his knee pushing against my thigh through the blanket, talking to me. His voice was low and confident. 

“Stick it in really slowly. It’s already lubed.”

I did as he said, and the sensation was shocking. I felt my crotch quiver, almost vibrating from the adrenaline and the sexual thrill. I looked him in the eye as I pushed into it slowly.

“Not too fast,” he said, “Train your cock. Stamina.”

I just nodded slowly, my jaw dropped open.

“Is it good?” he said.

"Yeah," I said.

"Yeah," he agreed, like he knew.

He talked about the real thing. He'd clearly had it. He was specific in a way that only came from experience. 

“Real pussy is a lot like that, except obviously you have a real girl with you. Can’t fake that.”

“Yeah,” I said as I attempted to chuckle, but only exhaled. 

“It’s so good,” I added as I started to move it up and down the length of me. It was warming up as I moved in it. The squelching sounds were new to me, but I could tell I was going to associate them with sex for the rest of my life.

“Now hold it still and thrust a little,” he said.

I moved slowly under the blanket, listening to him talk as he started going on about “real pussy” again. I was trying and failing to keep my breathing normal.

"That's not fair," I said.

"What isn't."

"I'm the only one doing anything. You’re gonna have a wet dream too."

He looked at me for a second. Then he shrugged and reached into his shorts.

"Get naked," I said. I don't know where it came from. It just came out.

He looked at me again, something shifting slightly in his face, and then he pulled his shirt off. He had the body he had. I'd seen it a lot before, but there was still something different about seeing him in my room, when it was just the two of us. He was broad and defined, and he didn’t have any of the shoulder acne I had. He pushed his shorts and underwear down and kicked them off before hopping onto the bed next to me, over the covers.

“Siri, turn the lights low,” he said, triggering my room to get dark. 

"True bromance," he said.

"If we both finish, we won't have wet dreams," I said, feeling like an idiot for just repeating the idea again. It wasn’t even a theory I actually believed, but it sounded like a reason to do whatever we were doing.

"Hope it works," he said as he grabbed himself rubbing slowly.

He got up on his knees on the mattress and slowly pulled the blanket off of me. I didn’t resist at all. He looked down at me. I felt the air on my lower stomach, then my pube area, and then my balls, my dick still buried in the warm tube. I didn't move to cover it up, just letting him expose me. He watched for a second like he was taking stock of me, his own mostly hard rod pointing in my direction, and then settled back down, next to me on his side, propped up on one elbow, close enough that his dick was only an inch from my thigh.

I could feel the warmth coming off his body.

“Now I’m cold,” I said. Then after a second, “But you seem warm.”

He didn’t respond. He just scooted even closer, letting his leg cross over mine, his dick resting on my thigh, nonchalant as he put his hand on top of the fleshlight, steadying it for me. His face was a foot from mine. I could feel him breathing on me. He smelled like minty gum, which I only noticed at that moment he had been chewing. I thrust upward, slowly into the toy while I looked at him.

"Tell me about your first time," I said. "Or the best time. Or something."

He looked at me for a moment. Then he leaned in closer, resting his shoulder across my body, and put his mouth near my ear. 

He thought about it for a second, then started talking.

"First time I lasted about forty-five seconds," he said, right at my ear. "I thought I was prepared. I was not prepared. She was cool about it but I could tell she was like, okay, that's it? So I just stayed in her and kept going because I didn't go soft, and that saved me. Second round was way better. I had something to prove."

He paused. I pushed further into the toy as his free hand slid up and rested on top of my head, not gripping, just resting, heavy and warm and strong. I was doing what he said, taking it slow. He started to gently move the toy up and down my shaft, his pinkie touching my balls with each down stroke.

"Best time though. Different girl. We were in her car, back seat, she climbs on top of me and I'm like, okay, this is it, this is the move. And it was. She's doing her thing and I'm just holding her hips and watching her face. Then she turns around. Reverse. And I could see everything. I put my hands on her lower back and pushed her down and she made this sound." 

He stopped for a second and pushed the toy down onto me quickly, firmly pressing against my balls, and I moaned a little with an exhale. 

"Yeah, that sound,” he said, “I think about that sound every time I jack off."

“Now you have a new sound,” I said between breaths.

He looked at me sort of sternly. “Do it again.”

He slammed the toy down on me, pushing into my balls with his fingers while he gave me the sensation of deep penetration. I heard myself whimper, and felt his hard dick press again my leg. He was thrusting, maybe involuntarily. I looked down and saw him leaking some pre-cum onto me.

“You’re getting me all sticky,” I said, feeling the taboo nature of this reach an apex.

“Mmhmm,” he said lowly, the breath out of his nose making my neck tingle.

“Tell me more,” I said, more because I wanted to feel his words in my ear than I wanted to hear the story.

He shifted slightly, mouth back at my ear.

"I got her on her stomach after that. Came in from behind, and she just… she opened up dude. She kept saying to keep going, ‘don't stop’, exactly like that, over and over. I had both hands on her hips pulling her back into me. I had all this stamina the second time. She was saying my name over and over."

“Derek,” I said, feeling my voice get higher pitched than normal, the sensation on my dick getting intense.

“Yeah,” he said into my ear, letting his lips touch me directly for the first time. “Just like that.”

I felt the words more than I heard them. His breath was hot and directly against my ears and neck. His fingers made little circles in my hair and pulled slightly while he continued massaging me with the fleshlight. 

His humping took on a rhythm as he worked himself against me, the strings of goo attached to various parts of me like a drunken spider web.

His hand tightened slowly in my hair, and I moaned again.

"That's a good one,” he groaned, “Just like the ones I think about when I beat it."

I turned my head and our cheeks brushed each other. He looked at me, his eyes half closed, his body moving against me, his hand working my manhood. I felt like I was losing my virginity. His breath hit my lips directly.

I reached down and wrapped my hand around his shaft. He sighed and closed his eyes. It was exactly what he had been waiting for. He exhaled slowly through his nose. His hand tightened sturdily in my hair.

I had never held another dude’s dick before. It was bigger than mine, and it was slimy. I never made this much pre-cum in my life, and he was leaking it like a faucet. I rubbed it sloppily and he seemed to love it. He humped into my hand while his never stopped jerking me with the toy. Our breaths picked up as we pushed each other toward the edge.

“I wanna know,” I said between breaths, looking him in the eye.

“What?” he said.

“I wanna know how you kissed her.”

He closed the space between our faces and shoved his tongue down my throat immediately. His greedy mouth invaded mine and I didn’t even know how to respond. I just let him probe me with his tongue while he kept working on each other. In seconds, I was moaning like a pornstar, letting him know without saying it that I was about to finish. He didn’t warn me either, our mouths busy with each other as he spilled a hot load that sprayed across me, streaking my abs and wetting my sheets, quickly dripping down my body. The smell was intense, and I released into the toy. 

“MMMmm,” I shouted without shouting, as my body froze. And he slowed down his stroking of me, our orgasms reaching peak at the same time as we continued to make out with vigor. The flame kindled between us burned brightly and fleetingly.

As we came down from our joint climax, I pulled away from him, suddenly aware of the mess that was on my body. 

Derek’s long exhale was like a satisfied sigh. “That’ll do the trick.”

“I don’t even care if it did,” I said, groping around the side of my bed for the towel I usually used as a cum rag.

We cleaned up without making it a thing, wiping our junk while chuckling about how intense that had gotten. I got under the blanket again while Derek looked at his phone. I didn’t put any clothes back on. Then the room got quiet, but in a comfortable way.

He got back in bed next to me, our bodies touching from the hips through the thighs, both of us turned slightly toward the other. Without discussion, without any kind of announcement, he grabbed my hip and turned me around so I was facing away, and moved in behind me. He put his arm across my chest and held on again, same as that first night. It hit me in that moment that he hadn’t done it in his sleep. He just needed a body to hold. He needed to hold me.

I stared at the wall while I listened to his breathing slow down.

Eventually I stopped thinking and went to sleep.

Everyone is 18.

There are two Dereks on the team.

Derek S. has been there since freshman year. He's a decent shortstop and a complete dick, and everyone mostly tolerates him because he's decent at shortstop. Derek D. showed up at the start of this season, transferred in, a year older than everyone because he skipped one somewhere along the way. I was aware of him, since he was a good player at another school,  but nobody really knew him yet.

I noticed him at the first practice, the way everyone sort of did. He stood out as a bigger dude. Not taller exactly, just broader through the shoulders, thicker body with a lot of meat on him. When he threw, he made it look easy, even though he was outshining the rest of us with every move. When he ran, he aroused the thought of a train rushing down a track. Dude had momentum.

His attitude was serious about baseball, but jovial about everything else. He was likable, and that was as immediately apparent as his large shoulders.

Then there was showers.

I don't make a habit of looking, but Derek made it difficult not to watch. He had the best “definition” on the team, and it was obvious that we were all a mix of jealous and in awe of the guy. On top of that, he didn’t seem to have a shy bone in his body. He walked to the center of the shower area on the first day, openly glancing around at the guys in our individual stalls looking for a shower head for himself, just nodding as if to say “sup?” to individuals when they looked back, wondering why he was so cavalier.

He wasn’t even wearing a towel, not in any rush toward modesty, no apparent awareness that other people might be having a slightly different experience of the situation than he was. I couldn’t stop looking at him. He had such a different personality than the rest of us. He caught his own reflection in the foggy mirror while he was waiting for a shower to open up, and he adjusted his stance. Rolled his shoulders back. Flexed one arm slowly, just checking himself out.

Somebody wolf-whistled, and the rest of the guys poked their heads out of their stalls to see what was happening. He grinned and flexed harder.

I turned back to my own locker.

A few weeks in, there had been a few group hangouts with the team, and he and I were friendly. I respected his game. He'd nod at me in the hallway. That was about the whole relationship.

Then one Saturday afternoon I saw his Instagram story.

He was at the beach, apparently by himself on a run. I zoomed in on the pic to confirm that he was at the section that was right by my house. Not to flex, but I lived on the “cool” side of town, which was actually kind of far from where Derek lived. So he was out this way, for whatever reason, and I stared at my phone for about a full minute, just thinking.

I opened his DMs.

Yo are you still at the beach?

He replied in about twenty seconds. Yeah why

I typed: My mom is making that good shit if you want to come by. 

Then I stared at that for a second. I'd never once told this guy about my mom's cooking. I didn't know why I said it like that. I cringed at myself, insecurity coming up. But I had already hit send.

Sure! he wrote back. Just like that.

I gave him my address. He was there in ten minutes.

My mom didn't miss a beat. She set another place before he even had his shoes off. My dad shook his hand and immediately started asking him about his mechanics, which Derek seemed genuinely into, and the two of them were talking baseball before I'd even sat down. My little sister ignored him entirely, which is how she treats everyone, and somehow that made him laugh.

He ate a lot. Mom loved that.

We went back to my room after and played games for a while. He was better than I expected. We talked some trash, getting a little competitive. He elbowed me once to distract me, but it was harder than I expected. I dropped my controller.

“Oh shit, sorry!” he said, dropping his own and forgetting about the game.

He put his large hand on my ribcage, spreading his palm flat and rubbing his thumb in a little circle over my shirt, warm and strong. “You all right, dude?”

“Yeah,” I said out of instinct, looking down at his hand comforting me. I smiled a bit.

We kept playing for a long time. It got dark. We didn’t pay attention to the clock.

My parents had mostly stopped policing me at all when it came to my friends being over. Things were good at school, grades were fine, I wasn't giving them anything to worry about. My older brother had been a different story, so I think by the time they got to me they were just relieved. If someone was still here at midnight, my mom would stop by with a snack for us and that was the extent of it.

At some point Derek looked at his phone and made a face.

"It's late," I said.

"Yeah."

"Just tell your mom you're gonna crash here." I said it pretty casually. I wasn't sure why my chest tensed a little right after.

He raised his eyebrows. "That's cool?"

"Yeah, def."

He texted someone, tossed his phone on the carpet, and that was that.

I got up to change and just dropped my jeans and my shirt, which left me in my underwear. I normally sleep without anything on, but I left them on for his sake.

Derek looked over from the chair. "Nice undies," he said.

"Thanks," I said, suddenly more aware of myself.

My mom knocked and came in with a full armload, blankets, a sleeping bag, one of those travel pillows she buys in bulk for like, no reason. I guess she put it together already that he was staying over. She’s always weirdly one step ahead of me mentally. She set them on the floor near the foot of the bed and told Derek it was nice to meet him, and he said it was nice to meet her too, and the way he said it was a bit warm, like he genuinely liked my mom. And I liked that.

When she left, he started sorting through the stuff she'd brought. I was under my covers with my phone in my hand, checking on the texts and things of the day.

"My bed is huge," I said, not looking up. "You can just hop in if you want."

He paused, looked at the bed, looked at the pile on the floor.

"I'm down," he said. "No homo."

We both snickered. He kicked off his jeans and got in on the other side.

He took up a lot of space. I was aware of his volume and the weight of him making the bed curl into his side. The mattress shifted when he moved. There was heat coming off him. He smelled like the beach still, a little, not bad.

We talked for a long time. I don't even know what about, mostly nothing. He said my family was cool.

"I mean, not always," I said.

"Don't say that, dude."

"Why not? It's true."

"It could be a lot worse," he said. He wasn't joking anymore.

I looked over at him. He was staring at the ceiling.

"Your parents aren't cool?" I asked.

"My dad is no good," he said. Just like that. Simple sentence. He didn't follow it with anything.

I didn't push it. We lay there for a minute in the quiet.

We fell asleep.

—[]—

I woke up in the dark and couldn't figure out what had changed.

Then I figured it out. He had moved. At some point he'd rolled toward me, and his arm was across my chest, and he was holding on tight. His hand had my shirt and his grip was solid. Some part of him needed me in that moment. That was the sense I got. He was definitely asleep, which I could tell from the lack of quiet in his breathing. Maybe he was having a bad dream. He'd just moved here on his own, in the dark, and held on to me, his hand cupping my pec, his chest tight and warm against the back of me.

I curled up tighter and stayed still. He was bigger than me and this was a lot of contact.

I eventually went back to sleep, feeling his breath on the back of me in a perfect rhythm.

—[]—

In the morning I woke up and his arm was still around me, but we had both shifted. I had a sensation in my crotch like I had wet the bed or something, but just a little. It took me a moment to recognize it. It had been a while since anything like that had happened, but I knew what it was.

“Oh shit,” I muttered aloud in my hazy, partial wakefulness. 

Derek shifted onto his back, still half sleeping, exhaling slowly. I was still for a second, wondering how to deal with myself without making it a thing. Derek opened his eyes, looking at the ceiling as his hand moved under the covers to his crotch. A bit of morning wood added to the bulge there, and he nudged his junk around like he was adjusting himself. He turned his head and looked at me. Then he looked at the ceiling again.

"Yo," he said.

"Hey."

"I think I had a wet dream."

I didn't say anything for a second, I started smiling. I would’ve laughed if I was fully awake.

“Brooo,” he sighed, “Don’t body shame me.”

"No," I said. “So did I.”

He smiled back at me. “Really?”

“Yeah.”

We started chuckling, a bond forming between us, unspoken.

"I thought we said no homo," he said.

"We did say that."

"Mm."

I told him he could shower first. My bathroom is right next to my room, one door over, so he got up and stretched, breathing life into his body. His muscles were glowing in the morning light from my window, casting the shadow of Adonis on my wall. It actually looked kind of cool. He dropped his stained underwear right in front of me, then bent over to pick them up. I could see the pink hole between his glutes, which made me pause. 

Male nudity wasn’t new. I’d been in sports, but this was just the two of us. I never changed fully naked in front of my brother or anything like that. Derek’s dick hung over his balls different than mine. He was thicker than me down there, and a slightly different shape. His pubes were more abundant than mine. I almost thought about asking if he trimmed them. I chuckled internally and didn’t say anything as he stepped out of my room and into the bathroom.

He came out with a towel around his waist, hair wet, and started going through his clothes on the floor. 

“Here’s some clean underwear and socks,” I said, tossing them to him from my drawer. 

“Nice. Could I borrow a shirt too?”

“Sure, in there,” I said.

He started to go through my closet as I stepped out.

When I came out he was dressed and sitting in my chair, scrolling his phone. We talked about nothing while I got ready. I faced away from him and dropped my towel to pull on my clothes, and I felt a small rush doing it.

"Get your cute little ass ready," Derek said, not looking up from his phone, "and we'll get bagels before school."

"Bet," I said.

I didn't say anything about the “cute little ass” part. I just found my jeans.

Before we left my room, he stopped and turned to me, one hand on his backpack strap. 

“Thanks for letting me crash,” he said with a little smirk. 

I just nodded.

He reached out to give me a bro hug with his free arm, and gave me a quick kiss on my cheek, which was not a normal thing to do in my circle of guys.

I didn’t react. We got our stuff together and walked to school. We talked about practice. We talked about the game on Friday. 

In class, I couldn’t really focus. All I could think about was Derek.

—[]—

I spent the morning on cloud nine. I was just excited about my new friend. I thought about him and the feeling I had when we admitted that we had both had wet dreams. As soon as we parted at the front of the school, both of us heading to our respective first period classes, he was on my mind. It felt like nothing could break my stride. 

I saw him in the hallway mid-morning, before homeroom.

He was coming from the other direction, his backpack over one shoulder, talking to someone I didn't know. He looked up and saw me from maybe thirty feet away. He didn't wave or say anything. He just smirked. I could tell it was a small, private thing, meant for me. Then he kept walking.

I kept walking too.

I thought about that smirk for the next two periods.

At lunch I was sitting with some other baseball guys, and Derek found me. He sat down at my table across from me and started chatting with everyone, seamlessly dropping into the conversation. Even though he was newer at our school, it seemed like everyone already really liked him. He helped himself to one of my chips without asking, and started talking to me directly about the upcoming game. It was like we were old friends already. We had a rapport.

Someone said something about their Dad, and then turned to Derek. “Hey, what’s your family like?”

His face got a little solemn. He paused. “Mom good. Dad… no good.”

The rest of us nodded a bit, not really sure how to ingest that. Derek turned back to me and started talking again. I felt like, in some way, I was his comfort blanket. I didn’t even know if that was in my head, but I got a sense that I gave him some sort of ease and comfort that he needed. Just a hunch.

I ate my sandwich and let him talk, and felt unreasonably good about all of it.

—[]—

Practice was… sharp. Derek was locked in, which made everyone else lock in, which was one of the things he did without seeming to try. He had that effect. He hit well, he moved well, and when he caught a bad throw in the dirt and came up with it cleanly, somebody on the bench made a noise and he just tossed the ball back like it was nothing.

I played well too. I was aware of him watching when I was up.

When we hit the showers, Derek was in the middle of it the way he tended to be since he arrived. He would wander out from his stall, shamelessly letting it all hang out while he chatted with the other guys, letting his shower run, not in any rush, talking to those on either side of him or even across the room. This day, the second time he came out of his stall to chat, he had soap suds piled onto his crotch to cover his junk. He made some guys look for a laugh.

“Where do you get all this energy, even after practice?” someone asked him.

“I sleep eight hours,” he said smiling.

"I had the worst sleep of my life last night," someone said. It was Kowalski, I think. He was always complaining about something.

"Why?"

"Gotta be honest,” he said, “Horniness. And I woke up to a wet dream. I hate those things. Woke me up at like three-am."

A few guys groaned in sympathy.

"I had two in one night once," somebody offered from the back. "Cleaned up, went back to sleep, boom. Second one. I was like, what is happening to my body."

Laughter.

"I've actually never had one," said Torres.

"That's not a flex," Derek said, rinsing his hair.

"I didn't say it was."

“I just had one last night,” Derek said, and the guys nodded along, like he was setting the tone.

"What about you?" Kowalski said, looking at me.

I was rinsing off. I glanced over. Derek had his eyes on me, mild, waiting.

"Had one last night too," I said, a bit of nerves taking over my face. I looked at Derek when I said the next part. "We were in the same bed."

The room went quiet for half a second.

Derek grinned, full and easy-going, as usual.

"That sucks," said Kowalski. “Probably felt super gay.”

"Nah," Derek said. "It happened to both of us. Bonding moment."

Somebody laughed. The noise came back. Derek finally started rinsing off. I had a strange feeling like some tension had arisen, and then suddenly, was perfectly resolved.

Derek and I dressed next to each other afterward. Derek pulled on his shirt and looked at me.

“Some guys said they wanted to come watch the game at my place on Saturday.”

“Cool.”

"You should come," he said.

"Yeah, I'm down," I said.

"Could do another…” He paused. “Sleepover thing…" He said it with a tiny hint of suggestion, just barely. I felt myself light up a bit, definitely unable to contain my expression.

"Yeah, I’m down," I said.

He nodded and that was that.

—[]—

Saturday morning, Derek texted the group chat that his Mom was having a thing and he couldn’t have us over. My disappointment was instant and immeasurable. Without even asking my parents, I immediately answered in the chat.

“Everyone come to mine instead.”

I got five reaction emojis. It was on.

Derek showed up at my place around 3:45 with a backpack. We were just getting adjusted on the floor of my room, waiting for others to start to arrive while my Mom made snacks. I checked my phone to find that Torres had texted the group chat saying he got grounded. Two minutes later, Mikey texted: Sorry too busy playing Madden. Which, okay. I texted the chat to ask if anyone else was still coming. Half didn’t answer, and the other half said no for various reasons.

So it was just Derek and me.

“Mom!” I yelled from my room.

“What!” she yelled back, making Derek chuckle.

“No one else is coming!”

“Ok!”

We watched the game for a bit, got bored when we could see it was a blowout against our favored team, and pulled up some video games. Naturally, the hours flew by and we ended up playing until we started yawning, not even realizing how much time had passed. We were alone, the rest of the house having gone quiet.

At some point Derek reached into his backpack and put something on the bed between us.

I looked at it. It was some sort of plastic tube, like a pringles can but with a wider end. Some PVC thing I would expect to be at the bottom of a shed in my crazy uncle’s backyard.

"What’s that?" I said.

"This," he said as he pulled off the end. 

There was a pink, plastic pussy shape under the cap, leading to the rest of the tube. I squinted for a second, knowing I recognized the idea before realizing what it was. My heart skipped a beat and I felt my face flush.

“Is that a fleshlight?”

“The best one,” he said, his face as excited as I had ever seen it. “No more wet dreams for us.”

I laughed. “Where’d you get it?”

“I’ll tell you later.”

I was intrigued. I was horny. I had butterflies in my stomach as I imagined what we were going to get up to.

He leaned back against the headboard and crossed his arms, completely comfortable with himself. "You're a virgin, right?"

I looked at him. "What?"

"Are you."

"I mean." I paused. "Yeah."

He nodded like that confirmed something. "You need to know what you're doing before you're actually doing it. That's the closest thing to real pussy besides actual pussy." 

He said it like he was explaining a piece of equipment, matter-of-factly like this was just a normal thing guys did.

I looked at the box.

"I'm not…" I started.

"I'll talk you through it," he said.

“I mean…” I started, but didn’t even know what to say. I crawled into bed and lowered my shorts and underwear, exposing myself under the blanket, already getting a rush just from that. He leaned closer to me, still on top of the covers, his knee pushing against my thigh through the blanket, talking to me. His voice was low and confident. 

“Stick it in really slowly. It’s already lubed.”

I did as he said, and the sensation was shocking. I felt my crotch quiver, almost vibrating from the adrenaline and the sexual thrill. I looked him in the eye as I pushed into it slowly.

“Not too fast,” he said, “Train your cock. Stamina.”

I just nodded slowly, my jaw dropped open.

“Is it good?” he said.

"Yeah," I said.

"Yeah," he agreed, like he knew.

He talked about the real thing. He'd clearly had it. He was specific in a way that only came from experience. 

“Real pussy is a lot like that, except obviously you have a real girl with you. Can’t fake that.”

“Yeah,” I said as I attempted to chuckle, but only exhaled. 

“It’s so good,” I added as I started to move it up and down the length of me. It was warming up as I moved in it. The squelching sounds were new to me, but I could tell I was going to associate them with sex for the rest of my life.

“Now hold it still and thrust a little,” he said.

I moved slowly under the blanket, listening to him talk as he started going on about “real pussy” again. I was trying and failing to keep my breathing normal.

"That's not fair," I said.

"What isn't."

"I'm the only one doing anything. You’re gonna have a wet dream too."

He looked at me for a second. Then he shrugged and reached into his shorts.

"Get naked," I said. I don't know where it came from. It just came out.

He looked at me again, something shifting slightly in his face, and then he pulled his shirt off. He had the body he had. I'd seen it a lot before, but there was still something different about seeing him in my room, when it was just the two of us. He was broad and defined, and he didn’t have any of the shoulder acne I had. He pushed his shorts and underwear down and kicked them off before hopping onto the bed next to me, over the covers.

“Siri, turn the lights low,” he said, triggering my room to get dark. 

"True bromance," he said.

"If we both finish, we won't have wet dreams," I said, feeling like an idiot for just repeating the idea again. It wasn’t even a theory I actually believed, but it sounded like a reason to do whatever we were doing.

"Hope it works," he said as he grabbed himself rubbing slowly.

He got up on his knees on the mattress and slowly pulled the blanket off of me. I didn’t resist at all. He looked down at me. I felt the air on my lower stomach, then my pube area, and then my balls, my dick still buried in the warm tube. I didn't move to cover it up, just letting him expose me. He watched for a second like he was taking stock of me, his own mostly hard rod pointing in my direction, and then settled back down, next to me on his side, propped up on one elbow, close enough that his dick was only an inch from my thigh.

I could feel the warmth coming off his body.

“Now I’m cold,” I said. Then after a second, “But you seem warm.”

He didn’t respond. He just scooted even closer, letting his leg cross over mine, his dick resting on my thigh, nonchalant as he put his hand on top of the fleshlight, steadying it for me. His face was a foot from mine. I could feel him breathing on me. He smelled like minty gum, which I only noticed at that moment he had been chewing. I thrust upward, slowly into the toy while I looked at him.

"Tell me about your first time," I said. "Or the best time. Or something."

He looked at me for a moment. Then he leaned in closer, resting his shoulder across my body, and put his mouth near my ear. 

He thought about it for a second, then started talking.

"First time I lasted about forty-five seconds," he said, right at my ear. "I thought I was prepared. I was not prepared. She was cool about it but I could tell she was like, okay, that's it? So I just stayed in her and kept going because I didn't go soft, and that saved me. Second round was way better. I had something to prove."

He paused. I pushed further into the toy as his free hand slid up and rested on top of my head, not gripping, just resting, heavy and warm and strong. I was doing what he said, taking it slow. He started to gently move the toy up and down my shaft, his pinkie touching my balls with each down stroke.

"Best time though. Different girl. We were in her car, back seat, she climbs on top of me and I'm like, okay, this is it, this is the move. And it was. She's doing her thing and I'm just holding her hips and watching her face. Then she turns around. Reverse. And I could see everything. I put my hands on her lower back and pushed her down and she made this sound." 

He stopped for a second and pushed the toy down onto me quickly, firmly pressing against my balls, and I moaned a little with an exhale. 

"Yeah, that sound,” he said, “I think about that sound every time I jack off."

“Now you have a new sound,” I said between breaths.

He looked at me sort of sternly. “Do it again.”

He slammed the toy down on me, pushing into my balls with his fingers while he gave me the sensation of deep penetration. I heard myself whimper, and felt his hard dick press again my leg. He was thrusting, maybe involuntarily. I looked down and saw him leaking some pre-cum onto me.

“You’re getting me all sticky,” I said, feeling the taboo nature of this reach an apex.

“Mmhmm,” he said lowly, the breath out of his nose making my neck tingle.

“Tell me more,” I said, more because I wanted to feel his words in my ear than I wanted to hear the story.

He shifted slightly, mouth back at my ear.

"I got her on her stomach after that. Came in from behind, and she just… she opened up dude. She kept saying to keep going, ‘don't stop’, exactly like that, over and over. I had both hands on her hips pulling her back into me. I had all this stamina the second time. She was saying my name over and over."

“Derek,” I said, feeling my voice get higher pitched than normal, the sensation on my dick getting intense.

“Yeah,” he said into my ear, letting his lips touch me directly for the first time. “Just like that.”

I felt the words more than I heard them. His breath was hot and directly against my ears and neck. His fingers made little circles in my hair and pulled slightly while he continued massaging me with the fleshlight. 

His humping took on a rhythm as he worked himself against me, the strings of goo attached to various parts of me like a drunken spider web.

His hand tightened slowly in my hair, and I moaned again.

"That's a good one,” he groaned, “Just like the ones I think about when I beat it."

I turned my head and our cheeks brushed each other. He looked at me, his eyes half closed, his body moving against me, his hand working my manhood. I felt like I was losing my virginity. His breath hit my lips directly.

I reached down and wrapped my hand around his shaft. He sighed and closed his eyes. It was exactly what he had been waiting for. He exhaled slowly through his nose. His hand tightened sturdily in my hair.

I had never held another dude’s dick before. It was bigger than mine, and it was slimy. I never made this much pre-cum in my life, and he was leaking it like a faucet. I rubbed it sloppily and he seemed to love it. He humped into my hand while his never stopped jerking me with the toy. Our breaths picked up as we pushed each other toward the edge.

“I wanna know,” I said between breaths, looking him in the eye.

“What?” he said.

“I wanna know how you kissed her.”

He closed the space between our faces and shoved his tongue down my throat immediately. His greedy mouth invaded mine and I didn’t even know how to respond. I just let him probe me with his tongue while he kept working on each other. In seconds, I was moaning like a pornstar, letting him know without saying it that I was about to finish. He didn’t warn me either, our mouths busy with each other as he spilled a hot load that sprayed across me, streaking my abs and wetting my sheets, quickly dripping down my body. The smell was intense, and I released into the toy. 

“MMMmm,” I shouted without shouting, as my body froze. And he slowed down his stroking of me, our orgasms reaching peak at the same time as we continued to make out with vigor. The flame kindled between us burned brightly and fleetingly.

As we came down from our joint climax, I pulled away from him, suddenly aware of the mess that was on my body. 

Derek’s long exhale was like a satisfied sigh. “That’ll do the trick.”

“I don’t even care if it did,” I said, groping around the side of my bed for the towel I usually used as a cum rag.

We cleaned up without making it a thing, wiping our junk while chuckling about how intense that had gotten. I got under the blanket again while Derek looked at his phone. I didn’t put any clothes back on. Then the room got quiet, but in a comfortable way.

He got back in bed next to me, our bodies touching from the hips through the thighs, both of us turned slightly toward the other. Without discussion, without any kind of announcement, he grabbed my hip and turned me around so I was facing away, and moved in behind me. He put his arm across my chest and held on again, same as that first night. It hit me in that moment that he hadn’t done it in his sleep. He just needed a body to hold. He needed to hold me.

I stared at the wall while I listened to his breathing slow down.

Eventually I stopped thinking and went to sleep.

Everyone is 18.

I’m several years out of college, so I assumed the experimental phase had passed.  I’ve been living in NYC since graduating, and Tinder girls typically keep me satisfied for one-offs when I need a release. I’ve considered myself straight and I always preferred the ladies, but I also knew that my appreciation for male bodies was slightly elevated compared to the typical straight guy. I used to joke about it with my friends growing up. When someone would make a comment like “Woah that’s way too gay for me,” I would say, “I’d do it.”

I knew they couldn’t tell for sure if I was joking or not, but it was never a thing, and I never got with a guy in any actual way besides some mutual jerking off.

In college, I started showering with other guys at the gym for the first time, and that was pretty revealing at first. When a dude has an enviable stack of abs, tree trunk thighs and a bubble butt, muscles up and down his shoulders and a symmetrical, handsome face, stuff like that always made me want to be a little closer to them, “bro out” a little harder, push the limits of male bonding. I even knew that it was somewhat sexual, but it was more of a light curiosity than a desire that wasn’t easily satisfied with a horny girl at a party, so it never went beyond a bit of horseplay with the boys.

Things changed when I moved into a new building last year in Murray Hill. I found out that the “Co-op board president” was a total dick. 

He was so judgmental about everything related to my apartment that he could see from outside. The first thing he ever said to me was that my furniture layout was “kind of tacky”, with a weirdly simmering half smile. I actually thought he was gay, but it turned out he was just pretentious and snobby. He had opinions about everything, even the cool electronic lock I had installed on my door. The thing opens when I tap my phone on it, which is badass, but apparently it’s “ugly”? It’s just a small black circle. He told me I literally needed to put a flower holder thing in my window, or else I “might get fined by the co-op”. 

“Aren’t you the board president?” I asked, astonished at the intruding nature of this dude. 

“Yes,” he said plainly, and then walked away. 

He seemed to specifically hate me. I rarely saw his wife at all, but he had mentioned her in passing a few times, and I was loosely aware that they had a son.

A couple weeks after my last interaction with Dave, during which I decided to just not talk to him anymore, I heard him fighting loudly with his son in his apartment, even though I was a couple floors down at the stairwell. The kid was yelling back with a verbal punch, which instantly made me a fan. 

Then, I heard Dave call him a “faggot”, or else say that his clothes made him look like one or something, which filled me with pity for the poor dude. 

“What an asshole,” I said out loud to myself in the hallway. 

I finally met the kid a couple days later. He was standing shirtless and sweaty outside the building, fumbling with his phone and cursing at it. His shorts were riding low and he was clearly returning from a run. He was drenched in sweat, and his shorts hugged his toned bubble butt that I noticed quickly. He was clearly athletic. I was already weirdly jealous of him, getting flashbacks to my time as a skinny high school kid looking up to the premium jocks who got all the girls. I had since filled out at the gym and learned how to look good naked, but those core development years never went away, really. 

I walked up and he looked at me expectantly.

“Sup,” I said.

“Hey, I’m Josh, on the third floor. Lost my key on my run. Phone is out of battery.”

“I gotchyu,” I said.

He stood close to me as I unlocked the door, and I couldn’t help but notice the peak male shape of him. And he smelled like a sweaty boy, which was objectively kind of nasty, but also cool in a bro-ey way. I respected the hustle of getting a disgusting sweat built up for a workout.

When I let him into the building, I held the door open for him to the narrow hallway that led to the stairs. He squeezed by me, and his wet, firm body slid against me, leaving a visible line of sweat along my shirt, making me chuckle. 

“Sorry,” he said.

“All good,” I said, shrugging it off.

I left him with a nod, heading toward my door, which was right by the entrance, but I noticed a pause. He was standing still at the bottom of the stairs, staring at the wall. 

“You alright?” I said.

“Yeah.”

Another pause. 

“I just don’t wanna go home yet. My dad is a dick.”

I narrowed my eyes for a second. 

“Is Dave your Dad?”

“Yeah… how did you?”

“Lucky guess,” I said, chuckling, and he laughed too. We had something in common already.

He paused for another second, pulling his phone out of his pocket, stalling for time I guess.

“Come to mine,” I said, “grab some water.”

I added a wink to let him know it was all good, which made me immediately question myself. His eyes lit up, making me wonder if I had given the wrong impression. It was the standard wink I do to let people know things are cool, things are ok, absolutely not the wink that means any subtle undertones of flirting, and this kid might be gay, so I should have been walking on eggshells.

We talked for a few minutes while he chugged water in my kitchen. I made sure to talk a little more masculine and bro-ey than normal, to make sure he knew I was straight. I think I got my point across, and, honestly, I wasn’t even sure he was gay after a couple minutes of talking. He didn’t give off any vibes at all.

I learned that he was eighteen, at the tail end of high school and clearly going through a phase of aggressive assertion of independence, which wasn’t helping the friction with his dad.

He was cute and blonde and clearly athletic, or at least very well toned. I noticed the shape of him very clearly. Old feelings came up that I hadn’t really had since college, and I had the urge to both get closer to this dude as well as do something that would piss off his asshole dad.

Just when I was about to tell him he should probably go, as much to save myself from doing anything stupid as to prevent his dad from knowing he was hanging out here, he asked if he could shower.

I hesitated for a second, then relaxed. “Sure, towels are in the pantry thing in the bathroom.”

He threw back the rest of his glass of water, slammed it down on the counter and disappeared behind the door. The water started running, and I put on some coffee and relaxed on my couch. 

After a notably long shower, like maybe thirty minutes, He opened the door followed by a wall of steam shrouding him. His towel was hung low under his abs, and I caught myself staring at him.

He plopped down on the chair across from my couch, a bit of water still dripping from his hair. He sank back into it like he was getting very comfortable. The towel hung slightly over his knees, so I couldn’t see anything I wasn’t supposed to, not that I was looking.

“You wanna watch TV or something?” he said. 

I guess he plans on staying a while.

“Sure, what’re you into?” I asked. I had gestured to the TV, but the pause in his demeanor let me know I had inadvertently asked something personal.

I saw him gulp. He looked at me sideways, raising an eyebrow. “I’m… open.”

I spread my legs a little farther than they were already, and I noticed something shift under his towel. Something was happening.

“Hey,” I said, “If you’re still wet, you probably shouldn’t sit on that chair. You’ll damage the leather.”

He stood up slowly, and the bulge under his towel was clear as day. His hands clutched the towel at his waist, as his eyes darted to the ground. He looked at the space on the couch. The pillows were piled up across from me, so the only opening was up close to where I was sitting. 

He shook slightly as he slowly sat down. Our legs touched, my pants warming up at the contact with his bare skin. He sat there sheepishly, his young, lean muscles glistening as the sunlight hit them through my window. He glanced at the chair.

“That’s not leather,” he said.

“I know,” I replied.

He looked at me. I winked. We smiled at each other.

We went on to talk about ourselves. After a few minutes he was sitting casually, facing me. His elbows were back on the pillows as I reclined into my half of the couch. We connected on everything, and he told me what it was like to grow up in the city. His legs started to overlap with mine, like he was playing footsie with me while I continued playing a flirtatious form of hard-to-get. 

He laughed at every other sentence I said, even if I didn’t mean to make a joke, and I felt like I was breaking down barriers I didn’t even know I had.

When we finally started talking about dating, he got a little more serious.

“My ex-girlfriend was a great cook,” I said. “The first time I ever got a little bit of a belly was the year in college when I dated her.”

“You don’t have a belly,” he said, poking me through my shirt. 

I lifted my polo up, showing my hard-earned abs. I actually had a happy trail, compared to him.

“Nah, I worked it off.”

He reached out and gently touched my abs. I let him, slowly watching him rub the back of his hand along the stack I was so proud of. One corner of my mouth raised while I looked at him, his eyes focused down on my body.

I brushed him away gently, and let my shirt fall back down. I gestured to his exposed stack of abs and man meat. “You’ve got a great set yourself.”

“Thanks,” he said as he rested a hand on his abdomen. “It’s wrestling, really. And basketball I guess.”

Then he finally asked the question he wanted to. 

“So, do you have a girlfriend now?”

“Nope.”

I could see his eyes light up a bit. I wondered if this was going too far, if this was ok. But still, in my head, it wasn’t going to go beyond a bit of flirting, until he asked the next question.

“Have you ever been with a guy?”

I chuckled, but I felt my stomach sink in my body.

“No,” I said, slowly. I was saying something more with my eyes than my words.

He shifted on the couch, the open part of his towel now facing me.

“Would you?”

I held his gaze for a moment while I eyed him suspiciously. He put a hand on my thigh. 

“Yeah.”

His hand moved higher toward my growing bulge.

“But, your dad…” I said.

“It would piss him off… if he found out,” Josh whispered, his face approaching mine.

I got goosebumps from the way he said it, his hard form crawling over my body on the couch as his towel started to fall off of him, exposing that bubble butt I had been thinking about all day. I could feel his dick dragging along my legs, my eyes glued to his face.

“Josh,” I said as I put a hand on his hip, steadying myself before I fell off the couch. 

I gripped hard, and felt the meat of his glute under my fingers. The sensation in my body was insane. It was taboo. The age difference was wrong. We could get caught. He lives in my building. Everything in my pre-frontal cortex was telling me to bail, but my body was sensing an impending pleasure I hadn’t known before. 

I pulled his body against me, our foreheads touching, our eyes almost fusing together. I felt a hard dick touching me for the first time in my life. I wanted to kiss him. I felt his body tense, his ass muscles flexing under my hand as I got a better grip on his perfectly smooth skin, his hairless ass like a globe of pure sex in my palm.

Josh’s eyes turned to glass.

“Uh, oh, wait, shit,” Josh said, his voice cracking a bit. His eye flinched.

“I’m sorry,” he said, and I felt it. A wet spot had appeared on my shirt and pants. He pulled his body away slowly, and I saw that last bit of white goo dribble out of his raging cock. 

“Oh, damn,” I said, shock hitting me. I had never seen another dude’s cum in person before, but I guess it wasn’t really anything weird. Just cum. My hand fell away from his body as he sat up, his raging boner sticking up in the air. 

I grabbed the towel from the floor and wiped myself up.

“I’m so sorry,” he said.

“No, it’s alright dude. It happens. I used to be like that too.” 

I tried to chuckle, but I felt my own wave of shame rising up in my body. This had gone too far. This really wasn’t right. I let a teenager into my house and let the strange, taboo attraction lead to a jizzing accident.

“I thought I was over that phase,” he said, a hint of shame in his voice.

“I better get home,” he said as he found his sweaty shorts, pulling them on and picking up the underwear to shove into his pocket. 

I didn’t want him to feel ashamed at all, but I also really wanted him to leave at this point. I had this strange sense that everyone was going to find out, like I would be judged or something. I was already planning in my head how to avoid scandal if people in the building started talking about it. My head was spinning.

“Yeah, sure,” I said, “But really, it’s all good man. I’ll see you around the building for sure.”

“Can I have your number?” he said, sucking his lips into his mouth, like it was a nervous thing he did.

I paused. “I mean, probably better not to exchange contact info. You know?”

“Sure,” he said with a nod, but his disappointment was evident on his face.

When the door closed behind him. I felt the whirlwind of the experience flying through my body. I had been horny, embarrassed, thrilled and ashamed all in an afternoon, and it was some young jock who was the son of my least favorite neighbor.

I threw my pants into my overflowing hamper and waited for my heart to stop racing. 

Things quieted in my head, and by the next day I had shaken it off. But after that, I started to see him around the building and the neighborhood more and more, and he would usually just acknowledge me briefly if at all, especially if his dad was around, which was probably a good thing. He winked at me one time with a bit of a smile, which made me feel a little warm inside. I really liked this dude, to be honest, and I could finally admit that to myself, even if it was more appropriate that nothing private happen between us.

The week after we met, I did ignore a follow request from Josh on my Instagram. It pained me to do so, but I was just afraid of the consequences, whatever they might be.

The next Friday night, I was superlatively horny after returning home from a work thing. It was close to midnight, and I didn’t really have the energy to “go out”, and I wasn’t even sure if any of my friends would really want to anyway. 

I opened up Tinder, to maybe get a girl over or else just sext with some females and have a nice nut. I swiped a few times until I saw an unexpected profile. It was a dude, but it wasn’t even showing his face. It happens sometimes, where a gay dude makes his gender “female” to try and sneak onto a straight guy’s Tinder stack.

“Idiot,” I said out loud to no one. I was about to swipe him away until something hit me. The shape of the torso was familiar. I recognized him. His golden tan, the exact pink hue of his nipples, the build of his pecs and abs. 

Fuck, it’s Josh.

I bit my lip, and swiped right.

It was a match.

Everyone is 18.

I’m several years out of college, so I assumed the experimental phase had passed.  I’ve been living in NYC since graduating, and Tinder girls typically keep me satisfied for one-offs when I need a release. I’ve considered myself straight and I always preferred the ladies, but I also knew that my appreciation for male bodies was slightly elevated compared to the typical straight guy. I used to joke about it with my friends growing up. When someone would make a comment like “Woah that’s way too gay for me,” I would say, “I’d do it.”

I knew they couldn’t tell for sure if I was joking or not, but it was never a thing, and I never got with a guy in any actual way besides some mutual jerking off.

In college, I started showering with other guys at the gym for the first time, and that was pretty revealing at first. When a dude has an enviable stack of abs, tree trunk thighs and a bubble butt, muscles up and down his shoulders and a symmetrical, handsome face, stuff like that always made me want to be a little closer to them, “bro out” a little harder, push the limits of male bonding. I even knew that it was somewhat sexual, but it was more of a light curiosity than a desire that wasn’t easily satisfied with a horny girl at a party, so it never went beyond a bit of horseplay with the boys.

Things changed when I moved into a new building last year in Murray Hill. I found out that the “Co-op board president” was a total dick. 

He was so judgmental about everything related to my apartment that he could see from outside. The first thing he ever said to me was that my furniture layout was “kind of tacky”, with a weirdly simmering half smile. I actually thought he was gay, but it turned out he was just pretentious and snobby. He had opinions about everything, even the cool electronic lock I had installed on my door. The thing opens when I tap my phone on it, which is badass, but apparently it’s “ugly”? It’s just a small black circle. He told me I literally needed to put a flower holder thing in my window, or else I “might get fined by the co-op”. 

“Aren’t you the board president?” I asked, astonished at the intruding nature of this dude. 

“Yes,” he said plainly, and then walked away. 

He seemed to specifically hate me. I rarely saw his wife at all, but he had mentioned her in passing a few times, and I was loosely aware that they had a son.

A couple weeks after my last interaction with Dave, during which I decided to just not talk to him anymore, I heard him fighting loudly with his son in his apartment, even though I was a couple floors down at the stairwell. The kid was yelling back with a verbal punch, which instantly made me a fan. 

Then, I heard Dave call him a “faggot”, or else say that his clothes made him look like one or something, which filled me with pity for the poor dude. 

“What an asshole,” I said out loud to myself in the hallway. 

I finally met the kid a couple days later. He was standing shirtless and sweaty outside the building, fumbling with his phone and cursing at it. His shorts were riding low and he was clearly returning from a run. He was drenched in sweat, and his shorts hugged his toned bubble butt that I noticed quickly. He was clearly athletic. I was already weirdly jealous of him, getting flashbacks to my time as a skinny high school kid looking up to the premium jocks who got all the girls. I had since filled out at the gym and learned how to look good naked, but those core development years never went away, really. 

I walked up and he looked at me expectantly.

“Sup,” I said.

“Hey, I’m Josh, on the third floor. Lost my key on my run. Phone is out of battery.”

“I gotchyu,” I said.

He stood close to me as I unlocked the door, and I couldn’t help but notice the peak male shape of him. And he smelled like a sweaty boy, which was objectively kind of nasty, but also cool in a bro-ey way. I respected the hustle of getting a disgusting sweat built up for a workout.

When I let him into the building, I held the door open for him to the narrow hallway that led to the stairs. He squeezed by me, and his wet, firm body slid against me, leaving a visible line of sweat along my shirt, making me chuckle. 

“Sorry,” he said.

“All good,” I said, shrugging it off.

I left him with a nod, heading toward my door, which was right by the entrance, but I noticed a pause. He was standing still at the bottom of the stairs, staring at the wall. 

“You alright?” I said.

“Yeah.”

Another pause. 

“I just don’t wanna go home yet. My dad is a dick.”

I narrowed my eyes for a second. 

“Is Dave your Dad?”

“Yeah… how did you?”

“Lucky guess,” I said, chuckling, and he laughed too. We had something in common already.

He paused for another second, pulling his phone out of his pocket, stalling for time I guess.

“Come to mine,” I said, “grab some water.”

I added a wink to let him know it was all good, which made me immediately question myself. His eyes lit up, making me wonder if I had given the wrong impression. It was the standard wink I do to let people know things are cool, things are ok, absolutely not the wink that means any subtle undertones of flirting, and this kid might be gay, so I should have been walking on eggshells.

We talked for a few minutes while he chugged water in my kitchen. I made sure to talk a little more masculine and bro-ey than normal, to make sure he knew I was straight. I think I got my point across, and, honestly, I wasn’t even sure he was gay after a couple minutes of talking. He didn’t give off any vibes at all.

I learned that he was eighteen, at the tail end of high school and clearly going through a phase of aggressive assertion of independence, which wasn’t helping the friction with his dad.

He was cute and blonde and clearly athletic, or at least very well toned. I noticed the shape of him very clearly. Old feelings came up that I hadn’t really had since college, and I had the urge to both get closer to this dude as well as do something that would piss off his asshole dad.

Just when I was about to tell him he should probably go, as much to save myself from doing anything stupid as to prevent his dad from knowing he was hanging out here, he asked if he could shower.

I hesitated for a second, then relaxed. “Sure, towels are in the pantry thing in the bathroom.”

He threw back the rest of his glass of water, slammed it down on the counter and disappeared behind the door. The water started running, and I put on some coffee and relaxed on my couch. 

After a notably long shower, like maybe thirty minutes, He opened the door followed by a wall of steam shrouding him. His towel was hung low under his abs, and I caught myself staring at him.

He plopped down on the chair across from my couch, a bit of water still dripping from his hair. He sank back into it like he was getting very comfortable. The towel hung slightly over his knees, so I couldn’t see anything I wasn’t supposed to, not that I was looking.

“You wanna watch TV or something?” he said. 

I guess he plans on staying a while.

“Sure, what’re you into?” I asked. I had gestured to the TV, but the pause in his demeanor let me know I had inadvertently asked something personal.

I saw him gulp. He looked at me sideways, raising an eyebrow. “I’m… open.”

I spread my legs a little farther than they were already, and I noticed something shift under his towel. Something was happening.

“Hey,” I said, “If you’re still wet, you probably shouldn’t sit on that chair. You’ll damage the leather.”

He stood up slowly, and the bulge under his towel was clear as day. His hands clutched the towel at his waist, as his eyes darted to the ground. He looked at the space on the couch. The pillows were piled up across from me, so the only opening was up close to where I was sitting. 

He shook slightly as he slowly sat down. Our legs touched, my pants warming up at the contact with his bare skin. He sat there sheepishly, his young, lean muscles glistening as the sunlight hit them through my window. He glanced at the chair.

“That’s not leather,” he said.

“I know,” I replied.

He looked at me. I winked. We smiled at each other.

We went on to talk about ourselves. After a few minutes he was sitting casually, facing me. His elbows were back on the pillows as I reclined into my half of the couch. We connected on everything, and he told me what it was like to grow up in the city. His legs started to overlap with mine, like he was playing footsie with me while I continued playing a flirtatious form of hard-to-get. 

He laughed at every other sentence I said, even if I didn’t mean to make a joke, and I felt like I was breaking down barriers I didn’t even know I had.

When we finally started talking about dating, he got a little more serious.

“My ex-girlfriend was a great cook,” I said. “The first time I ever got a little bit of a belly was the year in college when I dated her.”

“You don’t have a belly,” he said, poking me through my shirt. 

I lifted my polo up, showing my hard-earned abs. I actually had a happy trail, compared to him.

“Nah, I worked it off.”

He reached out and gently touched my abs. I let him, slowly watching him rub the back of his hand along the stack I was so proud of. One corner of my mouth raised while I looked at him, his eyes focused down on my body.

I brushed him away gently, and let my shirt fall back down. I gestured to his exposed stack of abs and man meat. “You’ve got a great set yourself.”

“Thanks,” he said as he rested a hand on his abdomen. “It’s wrestling, really. And basketball I guess.”

Then he finally asked the question he wanted to. 

“So, do you have a girlfriend now?”

“Nope.”

I could see his eyes light up a bit. I wondered if this was going too far, if this was ok. But still, in my head, it wasn’t going to go beyond a bit of flirting, until he asked the next question.

“Have you ever been with a guy?”

I chuckled, but I felt my stomach sink in my body.

“No,” I said, slowly. I was saying something more with my eyes than my words.

He shifted on the couch, the open part of his towel now facing me.

“Would you?”

I held his gaze for a moment while I eyed him suspiciously. He put a hand on my thigh. 

“Yeah.”

His hand moved higher toward my growing bulge.

“But, your dad…” I said.

“It would piss him off… if he found out,” Josh whispered, his face approaching mine.

I got goosebumps from the way he said it, his hard form crawling over my body on the couch as his towel started to fall off of him, exposing that bubble butt I had been thinking about all day. I could feel his dick dragging along my legs, my eyes glued to his face.

“Josh,” I said as I put a hand on his hip, steadying myself before I fell off the couch. 

I gripped hard, and felt the meat of his glute under my fingers. The sensation in my body was insane. It was taboo. The age difference was wrong. We could get caught. He lives in my building. Everything in my pre-frontal cortex was telling me to bail, but my body was sensing an impending pleasure I hadn’t known before. 

I pulled his body against me, our foreheads touching, our eyes almost fusing together. I felt a hard dick touching me for the first time in my life. I wanted to kiss him. I felt his body tense, his ass muscles flexing under my hand as I got a better grip on his perfectly smooth skin, his hairless ass like a globe of pure sex in my palm.

Josh’s eyes turned to glass.

“Uh, oh, wait, shit,” Josh said, his voice cracking a bit. His eye flinched.

“I’m sorry,” he said, and I felt it. A wet spot had appeared on my shirt and pants. He pulled his body away slowly, and I saw that last bit of white goo dribble out of his raging cock. 

“Oh, damn,” I said, shock hitting me. I had never seen another dude’s cum in person before, but I guess it wasn’t really anything weird. Just cum. My hand fell away from his body as he sat up, his raging boner sticking up in the air. 

I grabbed the towel from the floor and wiped myself up.

“I’m so sorry,” he said.

“No, it’s alright dude. It happens. I used to be like that too.” 

I tried to chuckle, but I felt my own wave of shame rising up in my body. This had gone too far. This really wasn’t right. I let a teenager into my house and let the strange, taboo attraction lead to a jizzing accident.

“I thought I was over that phase,” he said, a hint of shame in his voice.

“I better get home,” he said as he found his sweaty shorts, pulling them on and picking up the underwear to shove into his pocket. 

I didn’t want him to feel ashamed at all, but I also really wanted him to leave at this point. I had this strange sense that everyone was going to find out, like I would be judged or something. I was already planning in my head how to avoid scandal if people in the building started talking about it. My head was spinning.

“Yeah, sure,” I said, “But really, it’s all good man. I’ll see you around the building for sure.”

“Can I have your number?” he said, sucking his lips into his mouth, like it was a nervous thing he did.

I paused. “I mean, probably better not to exchange contact info. You know?”

“Sure,” he said with a nod, but his disappointment was evident on his face.

When the door closed behind him. I felt the whirlwind of the experience flying through my body. I had been horny, embarrassed, thrilled and ashamed all in an afternoon, and it was some young jock who was the son of my least favorite neighbor.

I threw my pants into my overflowing hamper and waited for my heart to stop racing. 

Things quieted in my head, and by the next day I had shaken it off. But after that, I started to see him around the building and the neighborhood more and more, and he would usually just acknowledge me briefly if at all, especially if his dad was around, which was probably a good thing. He winked at me one time with a bit of a smile, which made me feel a little warm inside. I really liked this dude, to be honest, and I could finally admit that to myself, even if it was more appropriate that nothing private happen between us.

The week after we met, I did ignore a follow request from Josh on my Instagram. It pained me to do so, but I was just afraid of the consequences, whatever they might be.

The next Friday night, I was superlatively horny after returning home from a work thing. It was close to midnight, and I didn’t really have the energy to “go out”, and I wasn’t even sure if any of my friends would really want to anyway. 

I opened up Tinder, to maybe get a girl over or else just sext with some females and have a nice nut. I swiped a few times until I saw an unexpected profile. It was a dude, but it wasn’t even showing his face. It happens sometimes, where a gay dude makes his gender “female” to try and sneak onto a straight guy’s Tinder stack.

“Idiot,” I said out loud to no one. I was about to swipe him away until something hit me. The shape of the torso was familiar. I recognized him. His golden tan, the exact pink hue of his nipples, the build of his pecs and abs. 

Fuck, it’s Josh.

I bit my lip, and swiped right.

It was a match.

Everyone is 18+ and fully consenting.

The trail had been going downhill for about ten minutes when Will hit a root wrong and fishtailed, and I saw the whole thing from behind. His back tire was kicking out, his elbows dropping to compensate, his body doing this low, sloppy wobble and his butt was rubbing hard against his seat, back and forth. He finally pulled it back together without eating shit. He didn't fall. He never fell. He just looked back at me with a relieved grin, then smirked like he'd done it on purpose.

"Smooth," I shouted to him.

"Thank you," he said, and stood up on his pedals and accelerated away from me down the hill.

That was Will. We'd been doing this since we were twelve, these family friend camping trips out to the same park in the mountains, same sites, same summer, our parents drinking wine and talking about boring stuff while we disappeared into the trails for most of the day. By now we'd ridden everything in range at least three or four times. We knew where the good descents were, where the trail went soft and loose near the creek, where you could get enough speed coming off the ridge that you'd actually catch air for a second before the ground came back up.

We were older now, and the day had been really nice. It was long, and hot. We'd done a full “ridge loop”, which was probably over fifteen miles, and by the time we turned back toward camp we were both cooked, mud up to our thighs, dried sweat on our necks re-moisturizing with new sweat. My legs were tired but my head was clear.

On the way back we'd passed a group of girls sunbathing near a lower trail, laid out on towels on a flat section of grass near the creek with their tops off. They must have been European visitors or something. Will had slowed down just enough to be noticeable and I'd done the same and then we'd both sped up again without saying anything until we were around the bend.

"Did you see the one in the blue," he said.

"I didn’t see any clothes."

"She was wearing bottoms."

“I… didn’t see.”

That was the whole conversation. We were both desperate virgins and our brains were kind of rattled. Being inexperienced and male, it had been an intense and tangible shock to our systems. 

We'd talked about sex and jerking off before, but sort of abstractly. The only real nudity I had seen before that day was Will changing in front of me. He was like a brother, and I had looked, but just to compare to myself, I thought.

When we got into horny conversations, we always talked about the future and “college”, like it was some abstract concept, even as it loomed closer. We talked about how the girls would actually want to do stuff with us. We’d “hook up” for real, and not end up in situations that amounted to little more than three months of low-grade anxiety and a miscommunication about who liked who.

Nothing had happened yet for either of us. Not really. A little, but nothing that counted.

By the time we got back to camp we were filthy. My shins looked like I'd been playing football in the rain. Will’s shirt was off, and he had a streak of mud up his spine that somehow contoured his back muscles, making him look more ripped than he was. 

“You look cool,” I said. “You should take a pic.”

“Take it for me,” he said, leaning against his handlebars as he caught his breath.

I pulled out my phone and framed him in the center of the screen. I found myself admiring more than just his back. From where his rear tire had kicked it up, there was brown mud all the way to his shoulder blades against his tan. The curve of his ass through his shorts was manly and developed, and I found myself comparing our bodies in my head. I looked down at my rather skinny form, shrugged, and snapped a few shots of him. He wasn’t moving, so they all looked the same. I texted them to him and forgot about it.

"I need a shower," he said.

"Same."

-[]-

The shower block was about a hundred feet from our campsite, so it felt remote, and private. It was a small brick building with two toilet stalls and two shower stalls, one long drain running between them. We grabbed our stuff and walked over, and there was nobody else in there when we pushed the door open. We each took a stall. The partition between them was different than I expected. The gap at the bottom was high enough that you could see someone's feet and shins from the next stall, and the drain ran straight through. When I disrobed, I already had the strange sensation that I was about to shower with my friend.

The water took a while to warm up. We stood there talking while it did, naked but on our own sides of the wall. When we finally got to start showering, I looked down and noticed that all the runoff mud from my shower was pooling at the partition and crossing under to his side. His drain was cleaner than mine. Mine looked like I'd been hosing off a construction site.

"Bro," I said. "All your dirt is coming over to my side."

"My bad," he said.

It clearly wasn't his fault. But I was looking at the gap at the bottom of the partition, at how wide it was, and then I was looking at my own situation, and an idea popped into my head.

"Watch this," I said, and pointed my dick at the gap and started peeing.

"BRO." His feet scrambled back toward the front of the stall. I could hear him laughing. "What the hell."

"Just making it even,” I said as I aimed at his feet, laughing maniacally. 

He giggled and squealed, reminding me that even with a big, masculine frame, he was still a boyish male like me. 

"Just you wait," he said as my stream petered out.

I finished and went back to washing my body, half expecting a stream to come shooting under at any second. I stepped to the back of my stall preemptively. But nothing came.

"I'm waiting," I said.

"I don't need to go," he said.

"Convenient,” I replied, but I wasn’t convinced. 

I laughed and went back to what I was doing. I wasn't paying attention to his shadow at first. The light in the shower block was coming from a single fixture in the ceiling of each stall, and at some point I registered that his shadow had shifted on the floor near the partition. His feet were still at the front of his stall. He hadn't moved back to center.

I looked at the shadow more carefully.

The shape of it was clear enough. Him facing forward, one arm at his side, and the unmistakable geometry of a straight cylinder sticking out in front of him, his hand caressing it lengthwise, up and down.

I'd seen Will's dick before, at urinals and whenever we had changed in the same room. A certain amount of imagery related to his cock had accumulated in my head just from knowing each other for that long. This was different, though. He was hard and jerking it, and he probably couldn’t tell that I was able to see it. The shadow showed something, his upright meat pole and the movement of his fist along its length, and my brain registered it in that order, what it was, then the fact that it was happening right there, then the fact that we were maybe two feet apart. I felt my nerves move through me. Then I noticed my own hand had started scratching my balls without me even realizing it. I watched his shadow continue to move as my dick got a nervous rush of blood flow, slowly pulsing itself straight while I just pleasantly twisted around the skin of my scrotum, my instinctive ritual as I worked myself up toward jerking off.

"Are you beating it right now?" I said quietly as I grabbed my dick at the base, stroking it slowly.

The movement in the shadow stopped as his body turned away from me.

"How did you know…," he said.

“Your shadow.”

"Aww, shit.”

I paused for a second. "Look at mine."

He slowly bent down to look under the partition. His hand, I noticed, had started moving again.

“How long does it usually take you to finish?”

“Longer in the shower.”

“Same.”

“What’re you thinking about?”

“Those boobs we saw today.”

“Same.”

“It’s fun doing it together.”

“I know.”

We both giggled, watching each other’s shadow. He paused every few seconds, gripping just the head. I tried to copy him, and I liked it.

We had some back and forth about it, some light banter. It made the whole thing less tense, and weirdly more exciting. It was cool that he was down to keep jerking off even knowing that I saw. We'd talked about jerking off before the way guys do, but nothing close to this. I never even thought about it that much. But we had talked about what we were into, how often we did it, all of it casual and theoretical. I didn’t know, until now, the exact cadence of his strokes, the rhythm with which he massaged his meat. This was the first time it had stopped being a private thing. This was the first time I was psychologically aware that he actually spanked his meat too, that his body actually did that, the same as mine.

"Okay," he said. "Payback time."

He squatted down. His hand came through the gap first, gripping his raging, pink cock in his hands. The sight of his dark patch of pubes struck me since it was bushier than mine. I had never in my life seen a guy’s dick hard before. It filled his hand and it was angry-looking from the angle, the blood in it visible. He furiously worked his fist in a blur as I watched the shadow and the real thing at the same time, his balls hanging low and smacking his body which each stroke. The scene lasted just a few seconds while I held my fist still, gripping myself, frozen in shock. Then he made a guttural sound, low in his throat, and released a string of white juice, closing the distance between us and striking my foot before I quickly jumped out of the way.

“Damn you!” I shouted as I started stroking myself again, vengeance on my mind as I subconsciously counted the ropes coming out of him. There were a lot of them. They hit the floor of my stall and I hopped around laughing, swearing.

He was laughing too. Breathing hard.

“Did I get you??”

“Yeah,” I admitted, losing my breath as I tried to reach my own climax quickly. “You got my foot.”

“Good. Little bitch.”

I chuckled just as I crossed the edge. I stood over where his dick still jutted out under the stall wall, and aimed myself down at him.

I released a thick rope of fluid that went unexpectedly far, and he got out of the way before I could strike him with my goo.

"You missed me," he said.

“Next time,” I said, catching my breath, suddenly a little ashamed about the shenanigans as my post-orgasm brain returned to normal.

We stood there for a second. Then we both started laughing again, properly this time, making it hard to catch our breath. We pushed each other’s evidence between stalls with our feet, mixing it into the drain, giggling.

"We're even," he said.

"We're definitely not even,” I replied as I reached for my towel.

Someone else came into the shower block then, and we both went quiet and finished up quickly and got out.

—[]—

I couldn't sleep that night.

The tent was warm. We'd set up our sleeping bags side by side the way we always did, and Will dropped off almost immediately the way he always did, and I lay there in the dark staring at the roof of the tent and not sleeping.

I kept seeing his dick in my mind. It just kept coming back. The shape of his thing.

Then I heard rustling.

It was coming from Will's sleeping bag. Rhythmic and unmistakable. He wasn't trying to hide it or he wasn't thinking about whether I could hear it, and either way there it was, the sleeping bag shifting in a regular slow rhythm in the dark.

It went on for a few minutes. I stayed completely still. Then it stopped.

I assumed he finished. I was a little disappointed that I had “missed it” this time. I waited, listening for him to clean up. I wondered if I would smell it, if it would smell like mine always did after a nice bedtime wank sesh at home. I was hard again, the thought of him beating it right next to me punching my brain repeatedly. 

Then his voice came out of the dark.

"You awake?"

I waited a few seconds. The rustling started again.

"I'm awake," I said.

It stopped.

"I gotta drop another load," he said.

"Horny man."

"Desperately."

"Go for it," I said.

A pause. Longer than a breath.

"I can't."

"Okay."

"I need a blowjob," he said.

I was quiet for a second, chuckling slightly through my nose, knowing that he had never had a blowjob before or else I would’ve heard about it the same day.

"Well, too bad. No girls here."

Silence.

The silence went on long enough that I started to understand that he might be suggesting something.

"Oh," I said.

"Yeah," he said. His voice was strained in a way I'd never heard before. "Would you…"

"Shut up. No,” I said, but I knew I sounded nervous.

A beat passed. My heart raced. 

"I'll do you too," he said.

My heart was pounding. I lay still for one second, two, three.

"Fuck it," I said.

He sat up quickly, already pushing his sleeping bag off himself. 

"Can we go head to foot?" 

I was briefly stunned that he was describing our physical arrangement so plainly, like he had already stopped caring how gay this was getting, like that ship had sailed and he was fine watching it go. 

I shifted without answering, leaning down so my face was between his thighs, his tented underwear in my face, the warm smell of male crotch greeting me. He trapped my hips and put his face at own crotch, and I was looking directly at what had caused all of this in the first place.

He pulled himself out, and I was quickly face to face with a dude’s dick. 

I bit the bullet. Closed my eyes, opened my mouth, and put it in.

It wasn't what I expected. It was warmer, softer in texture than the angry throbbing of it suggested. I moved my lips the way I'd seen online, licking up and down like a popsicle and just trying to keep it inside my mouth, trying to be useful, and after a second I found a rhythm that seemed to work. I heard him exhale as his body shifted to aim his hips more directly at my face.

Then his mouth was on me, and I stopped thinking about my technique altogether. I felt the purest pleasure of my life, and understood what I was doing to him at the same time.

His mouth was warm, and he was focused. My whole body shifted as a tingle ran up from the base of my spine. I understood immediately, in a way I hadn't a moment before, why people wanted this. He steadied himself with a hand on my hip, his fingers curling around to my lower back, basically gripping my ass, and I did the same to him without thinking about it. 

It wasn't as hard as I'd expected. The rhythm came naturally, each of us working, the tent completely quiet except for breathing and slurping sounds. I was more focused on what was happening to me than what I was doing, which probably made me a worse partner but I couldn't help it. It was strange that the sensations kept building past the point where I thought I would finish. It was like I was reaching new levels of sexual pleasure, like a new type of orgasm.

When I felt myself actually getting close, I had the instinct to pull out. Obviously, I didn’t want to finish in my friend's mouth. That wasn't the deal. 

I pulled off of him and whispered into the dark, "Dude, I'm about to nut I think."

His response was to reach down, find the back of my head, and push me roughly back onto his dick. He held me and started thrusting, going rough.

His tongue ran a slow circle and I felt it pull at something and the pleasure came up through me before I could brace for it, washing over me in a wave while I pulsed into him. His tongue kept moving through all of it, patient, wringing it out, while he pushed himself a little deeper like he was pushing into my throat, and his rhythm changed.

He was close. His pace was suddenly looser and more urgent, his hips moving against my face with no particular rhythm. I understood what he wanted. I pulled him in by his ass and held him there, and he gripped my head and his whole body tightened. He finished with a low sound coming out of his nose while my dick stayed in his mouth, pulsing into the back of my throat, and I held still the way he'd held still for me.

He pulled out of me slowly when he was done.

I lay there with the taste of him filling my mouth. Strange, heavier than expected, a lot of my saliva mixed in. I assumed we'd both unzip the tent and spit into the grass. I was working out how to suggest that without making it weird.

"Thanks dude," he said.

I looked at him, surprised. If he was speaking clearly, then he had swallowed. In the dark I could just make out his face. His eyes were closed. 

I looked at the roof of the tent for a moment. Then I gulped it all down in one go, and didn't mention it.

"Yeah, no," I said, clearing my throat. "That was fun."

He turned away from me and was immediately still, his breathing already slowing. I lay down facing the ceiling of the tent, the taste coating the back of my throat, my body completely hollowed out.

I was asleep in under a minute.

-[]-

I woke up with his arm across my chest.

He was still asleep. His rhythmic, slightly loud breathing was steady against the back of my neck, and he'd thrown his arm over me at some point in the night. The tent was light but it was early. The sunshine coming through the little nylon screen was bright and golden. I could hear birds rustling somewhere outside near the tent.

I lay still. I turned my head a little to look at him, which woke him up.

He blinked. We looked at each other. He didn't move his arm right away.

"Morning," he said.

"Morning."

We were both sweating. The sleeping bags were too warm for the season and we'd been zipped up anyway, and our hormonal bodies ran hot. His arm was still there.

"Should we shower again?" I said.

He looked at me for a second. Then something shifted in his face.

"Can I take care of this first?" 

He pressed his hips forward and I felt it through both sleeping bags, unmistakable, the same as last night except it was morning and we could see each other's faces clearly. I could tell he was a little nervous, wondering if I was going to be as receptive as the night before. I could’ve just told him it was “too gay” or something, but I didn't say anything. I just pushed the sleeping bag down, showing him my naked body.

He slowly did the same, still spooning me, and soon his hard dick was pressing against my bare ass.

“How do you wanna do it?” I said, feeling my heart start to race. 

Everyone is 18+ and fully consenting.

The trail had been going downhill for about ten minutes when Will hit a root wrong and fishtailed, and I saw the whole thing from behind. His back tire was kicking out, his elbows dropping to compensate, his body doing this low, sloppy wobble and his butt was rubbing hard against his seat, back and forth. He finally pulled it back together without eating shit. He didn't fall. He never fell. He just looked back at me with a relieved grin, then smirked like he'd done it on purpose.

"Smooth," I shouted to him.

"Thank you," he said, and stood up on his pedals and accelerated away from me down the hill.

That was Will. We'd been doing this since we were twelve, these family friend camping trips out to the same park in the mountains, same sites, same summer, our parents drinking wine and talking about boring stuff while we disappeared into the trails for most of the day. By now we'd ridden everything in range at least three or four times. We knew where the good descents were, where the trail went soft and loose near the creek, where you could get enough speed coming off the ridge that you'd actually catch air for a second before the ground came back up.

We were older now, and the day had been really nice. It was long, and hot. We'd done a full “ridge loop”, which was probably over fifteen miles, and by the time we turned back toward camp we were both cooked, mud up to our thighs, dried sweat on our necks re-moisturizing with new sweat. My legs were tired but my head was clear.

On the way back we'd passed a group of girls sunbathing near a lower trail, laid out on towels on a flat section of grass near the creek with their tops off. They must have been European visitors or something. Will had slowed down just enough to be noticeable and I'd done the same and then we'd both sped up again without saying anything until we were around the bend.

"Did you see the one in the blue," he said.

"I didn’t see any clothes."

"She was wearing bottoms."

“I… didn’t see.”

That was the whole conversation. We were both desperate virgins and our brains were kind of rattled. Being inexperienced and male, it had been an intense and tangible shock to our systems. 

We'd talked about sex and jerking off before, but sort of abstractly. The only real nudity I had seen before that day was Will changing in front of me. He was like a brother, and I had looked, but just to compare to myself, I thought.

When we got into horny conversations, we always talked about the future and “college”, like it was some abstract concept, even as it loomed closer. We talked about how the girls would actually want to do stuff with us. We’d “hook up” for real, and not end up in situations that amounted to little more than three months of low-grade anxiety and a miscommunication about who liked who.

Nothing had happened yet for either of us. Not really. A little, but nothing that counted.

By the time we got back to camp we were filthy. My shins looked like I'd been playing football in the rain. Will’s shirt was off, and he had a streak of mud up his spine that somehow contoured his back muscles, making him look more ripped than he was. 

“You look cool,” I said. “You should take a pic.”

“Take it for me,” he said, leaning against his handlebars as he caught his breath.

I pulled out my phone and framed him in the center of the screen. I found myself admiring more than just his back. From where his rear tire had kicked it up, there was brown mud all the way to his shoulder blades against his tan. The curve of his ass through his shorts was manly and developed, and I found myself comparing our bodies in my head. I looked down at my rather skinny form, shrugged, and snapped a few shots of him. He wasn’t moving, so they all looked the same. I texted them to him and forgot about it.

"I need a shower," he said.

"Same."

-[]-

The shower block was about a hundred feet from our campsite, so it felt remote, and private. It was a small brick building with two toilet stalls and two shower stalls, one long drain running between them. We grabbed our stuff and walked over, and there was nobody else in there when we pushed the door open. We each took a stall. The partition between them was different than I expected. The gap at the bottom was high enough that you could see someone's feet and shins from the next stall, and the drain ran straight through. When I disrobed, I already had the strange sensation that I was about to shower with my friend.

The water took a while to warm up. We stood there talking while it did, naked but on our own sides of the wall. When we finally got to start showering, I looked down and noticed that all the runoff mud from my shower was pooling at the partition and crossing under to his side. His drain was cleaner than mine. Mine looked like I'd been hosing off a construction site.

"Bro," I said. "All your dirt is coming over to my side."

"My bad," he said.

It clearly wasn't his fault. But I was looking at the gap at the bottom of the partition, at how wide it was, and then I was looking at my own situation, and an idea popped into my head.

"Watch this," I said, and pointed my dick at the gap and started peeing.

"BRO." His feet scrambled back toward the front of the stall. I could hear him laughing. "What the hell."

"Just making it even,” I said as I aimed at his feet, laughing maniacally. 

He giggled and squealed, reminding me that even with a big, masculine frame, he was still a boyish male like me. 

"Just you wait," he said as my stream petered out.

I finished and went back to washing my body, half expecting a stream to come shooting under at any second. I stepped to the back of my stall preemptively. But nothing came.

"I'm waiting," I said.

"I don't need to go," he said.

"Convenient,” I replied, but I wasn’t convinced. 

I laughed and went back to what I was doing. I wasn't paying attention to his shadow at first. The light in the shower block was coming from a single fixture in the ceiling of each stall, and at some point I registered that his shadow had shifted on the floor near the partition. His feet were still at the front of his stall. He hadn't moved back to center.

I looked at the shadow more carefully.

The shape of it was clear enough. Him facing forward, one arm at his side, and the unmistakable geometry of a straight cylinder sticking out in front of him, his hand caressing it lengthwise, up and down.

I'd seen Will's dick before, at urinals and whenever we had changed in the same room. A certain amount of imagery related to his cock had accumulated in my head just from knowing each other for that long. This was different, though. He was hard and jerking it, and he probably couldn’t tell that I was able to see it. The shadow showed something, his upright meat pole and the movement of his fist along its length, and my brain registered it in that order, what it was, then the fact that it was happening right there, then the fact that we were maybe two feet apart. I felt my nerves move through me. Then I noticed my own hand had started scratching my balls without me even realizing it. I watched his shadow continue to move as my dick got a nervous rush of blood flow, slowly pulsing itself straight while I just pleasantly twisted around the skin of my scrotum, my instinctive ritual as I worked myself up toward jerking off.

"Are you beating it right now?" I said quietly as I grabbed my dick at the base, stroking it slowly.

The movement in the shadow stopped as his body turned away from me.

"How did you know…," he said.

“Your shadow.”

"Aww, shit.”

I paused for a second. "Look at mine."

He slowly bent down to look under the partition. His hand, I noticed, had started moving again.

“How long does it usually take you to finish?”

“Longer in the shower.”

“Same.”

“What’re you thinking about?”

“Those boobs we saw today.”

“Same.”

“It’s fun doing it together.”

“I know.”

We both giggled, watching each other’s shadow. He paused every few seconds, gripping just the head. I tried to copy him, and I liked it.

We had some back and forth about it, some light banter. It made the whole thing less tense, and weirdly more exciting. It was cool that he was down to keep jerking off even knowing that I saw. We'd talked about jerking off before the way guys do, but nothing close to this. I never even thought about it that much. But we had talked about what we were into, how often we did it, all of it casual and theoretical. I didn’t know, until now, the exact cadence of his strokes, the rhythm with which he massaged his meat. This was the first time it had stopped being a private thing. This was the first time I was psychologically aware that he actually spanked his meat too, that his body actually did that, the same as mine.

"Okay," he said. "Payback time."

He squatted down. His hand came through the gap first, gripping his raging, pink cock in his hands. The sight of his dark patch of pubes struck me since it was bushier than mine. I had never in my life seen a guy’s dick hard before. It filled his hand and it was angry-looking from the angle, the blood in it visible. He furiously worked his fist in a blur as I watched the shadow and the real thing at the same time, his balls hanging low and smacking his body which each stroke. The scene lasted just a few seconds while I held my fist still, gripping myself, frozen in shock. Then he made a guttural sound, low in his throat, and released a string of white juice, closing the distance between us and striking my foot before I quickly jumped out of the way.

“Damn you!” I shouted as I started stroking myself again, vengeance on my mind as I subconsciously counted the ropes coming out of him. There were a lot of them. They hit the floor of my stall and I hopped around laughing, swearing.

He was laughing too. Breathing hard.

“Did I get you??”

“Yeah,” I admitted, losing my breath as I tried to reach my own climax quickly. “You got my foot.”

“Good. Little bitch.”

I chuckled just as I crossed the edge. I stood over where his dick still jutted out under the stall wall, and aimed myself down at him.

I released a thick rope of fluid that went unexpectedly far, and he got out of the way before I could strike him with my goo.

"You missed me," he said.

“Next time,” I said, catching my breath, suddenly a little ashamed about the shenanigans as my post-orgasm brain returned to normal.

We stood there for a second. Then we both started laughing again, properly this time, making it hard to catch our breath. We pushed each other’s evidence between stalls with our feet, mixing it into the drain, giggling.

"We're even," he said.

"We're definitely not even,” I replied as I reached for my towel.

Someone else came into the shower block then, and we both went quiet and finished up quickly and got out.

—[]—

I couldn't sleep that night.

The tent was warm. We'd set up our sleeping bags side by side the way we always did, and Will dropped off almost immediately the way he always did, and I lay there in the dark staring at the roof of the tent and not sleeping.

I kept seeing his dick in my mind. It just kept coming back. The shape of his thing.

Then I heard rustling.

It was coming from Will's sleeping bag. Rhythmic and unmistakable. He wasn't trying to hide it or he wasn't thinking about whether I could hear it, and either way there it was, the sleeping bag shifting in a regular slow rhythm in the dark.

It went on for a few minutes. I stayed completely still. Then it stopped.

I assumed he finished. I was a little disappointed that I had “missed it” this time. I waited, listening for him to clean up. I wondered if I would smell it, if it would smell like mine always did after a nice bedtime wank sesh at home. I was hard again, the thought of him beating it right next to me punching my brain repeatedly. 

Then his voice came out of the dark.

"You awake?"

I waited a few seconds. The rustling started again.

"I'm awake," I said.

It stopped.

"I gotta drop another load," he said.

"Horny man."

"Desperately."

"Go for it," I said.

A pause. Longer than a breath.

"I can't."

"Okay."

"I need a blowjob," he said.

I was quiet for a second, chuckling slightly through my nose, knowing that he had never had a blowjob before or else I would’ve heard about it the same day.

"Well, too bad. No girls here."

Silence.

The silence went on long enough that I started to understand that he might be suggesting something.

"Oh," I said.

"Yeah," he said. His voice was strained in a way I'd never heard before. "Would you…"

"Shut up. No,” I said, but I knew I sounded nervous.

A beat passed. My heart raced. 

"I'll do you too," he said.

My heart was pounding. I lay still for one second, two, three.

"Fuck it," I said.

He sat up quickly, already pushing his sleeping bag off himself. 

"Can we go head to foot?" 

I was briefly stunned that he was describing our physical arrangement so plainly, like he had already stopped caring how gay this was getting, like that ship had sailed and he was fine watching it go. 

I shifted without answering, leaning down so my face was between his thighs, his tented underwear in my face, the warm smell of male crotch greeting me. He trapped my hips and put his face at own crotch, and I was looking directly at what had caused all of this in the first place.

He pulled himself out, and I was quickly face to face with a dude’s dick. 

I bit the bullet. Closed my eyes, opened my mouth, and put it in.

It wasn't what I expected. It was warmer, softer in texture than the angry throbbing of it suggested. I moved my lips the way I'd seen online, licking up and down like a popsicle and just trying to keep it inside my mouth, trying to be useful, and after a second I found a rhythm that seemed to work. I heard him exhale as his body shifted to aim his hips more directly at my face.

Then his mouth was on me, and I stopped thinking about my technique altogether. I felt the purest pleasure of my life, and understood what I was doing to him at the same time.

His mouth was warm, and he was focused. My whole body shifted as a tingle ran up from the base of my spine. I understood immediately, in a way I hadn't a moment before, why people wanted this. He steadied himself with a hand on my hip, his fingers curling around to my lower back, basically gripping my ass, and I did the same to him without thinking about it. 

It wasn't as hard as I'd expected. The rhythm came naturally, each of us working, the tent completely quiet except for breathing and slurping sounds. I was more focused on what was happening to me than what I was doing, which probably made me a worse partner but I couldn't help it. It was strange that the sensations kept building past the point where I thought I would finish. It was like I was reaching new levels of sexual pleasure, like a new type of orgasm.

When I felt myself actually getting close, I had the instinct to pull out. Obviously, I didn’t want to finish in my friend's mouth. That wasn't the deal. 

I pulled off of him and whispered into the dark, "Dude, I'm about to nut I think."

His response was to reach down, find the back of my head, and push me roughly back onto his dick. He held me and started thrusting, going rough.

His tongue ran a slow circle and I felt it pull at something and the pleasure came up through me before I could brace for it, washing over me in a wave while I pulsed into him. His tongue kept moving through all of it, patient, wringing it out, while he pushed himself a little deeper like he was pushing into my throat, and his rhythm changed.

He was close. His pace was suddenly looser and more urgent, his hips moving against my face with no particular rhythm. I understood what he wanted. I pulled him in by his ass and held him there, and he gripped my head and his whole body tightened. He finished with a low sound coming out of his nose while my dick stayed in his mouth, pulsing into the back of my throat, and I held still the way he'd held still for me.

He pulled out of me slowly when he was done.

I lay there with the taste of him filling my mouth. Strange, heavier than expected, a lot of my saliva mixed in. I assumed we'd both unzip the tent and spit into the grass. I was working out how to suggest that without making it weird.

"Thanks dude," he said.

I looked at him, surprised. If he was speaking clearly, then he had swallowed. In the dark I could just make out his face. His eyes were closed. 

I looked at the roof of the tent for a moment. Then I gulped it all down in one go, and didn't mention it.

"Yeah, no," I said, clearing my throat. "That was fun."

He turned away from me and was immediately still, his breathing already slowing. I lay down facing the ceiling of the tent, the taste coating the back of my throat, my body completely hollowed out.

I was asleep in under a minute.

-[]-

I woke up with his arm across my chest.

He was still asleep. His rhythmic, slightly loud breathing was steady against the back of my neck, and he'd thrown his arm over me at some point in the night. The tent was light but it was early. The sunshine coming through the little nylon screen was bright and golden. I could hear birds rustling somewhere outside near the tent.

I lay still. I turned my head a little to look at him, which woke him up.

He blinked. We looked at each other. He didn't move his arm right away.

"Morning," he said.

"Morning."

We were both sweating. The sleeping bags were too warm for the season and we'd been zipped up anyway, and our hormonal bodies ran hot. His arm was still there.

"Should we shower again?" I said.

He looked at me for a second. Then something shifted in his face.

"Can I take care of this first?" 

He pressed his hips forward and I felt it through both sleeping bags, unmistakable, the same as last night except it was morning and we could see each other's faces clearly. I could tell he was a little nervous, wondering if I was going to be as receptive as the night before. I could’ve just told him it was “too gay” or something, but I didn't say anything. I just pushed the sleeping bag down, showing him my naked body.

He slowly did the same, still spooning me, and soon his hard dick was pressing against my bare ass.

“How do you wanna do it?” I said, feeling my heart start to race. 

Everyone is 18.

He said he could cum in less than twenty seconds, then just keep going and cum again a minute later.

“This is crazy, but I have to see it.”

Cut to us in his backyard shed after school and he’s showing me.

The shed smelled of old wood and the faint tang of motor oil, but I barely noticed. My heart was pounding as I stared at him, my best friend since freshman year, standing there with his pants around his ankles. His plump, half hard cock hung sweating between his legs, pale and smooth, the tip starting to pulse, coming to life. I swallowed hard, my own dick twitching in my jeans as he grinned at me, that cocky smirk I’d seen a thousand times before.

“Start the timer,” he said, his voice low and steady, like he was about to perform some kind of magic trick. And maybe he was. I fumbled with my phone, my fingers trembling as I opened the stopwatch app. “Ready?” he asked, and I nodded, unable to speak.

He started slow, his hand wrapping around his flaccid cock, his fingers sliding over the soft skin. But within seconds, he was moving faster, his hand pumping up and down, his dick thickening before my eyes. It was like watching a flower bloom in fast-forward, his cock growing harder and harder with each stroke. Precum beaded at the tip, glistening in the dim light, and I felt my own dick straining against the fabric of my jeans.

“Fifteen seconds,” I muttered, my voice barely above a whisper. He nodded, his breathing quickening, his hand moving even faster now. His cock was fully erect, the veins standing out against the pale skin, the head flushed a deep red. And then, just as I hit the twenty-second mark, he came. A thick stream of cum shot out of his dick, splattering onto the wooden floor, and I watched, mesmerized, as he kept going, his hand never stopping.

“Fifty seconds,” I said, my voice shaky now, my own hand unconsciously moving to my crotch. He nodded again, his eyes closed, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps. And then, just as promised, he came again, another load spilling out of his cock, adding to the mess on the floor.

I was rock hard now, my dick pressing painfully against the zipper of my jeans. He looked at me, his chest heaving, his cock still hard and leaking.

“Your turn,” he said, and even though this wasn't part of the plan, I didn’t hesitate.

I unzipped my jeans, pulling them down along with my boxers, my own cock springing free. It was thicker than his and heavy, the head already glistening with precum, my balls tight against my body.

We stood there, just a few feet apart, our dicks in our hands, stroking ourselves in unison. The shed was filled with the sound of our breathing, the soft slap of skin against skin, and the occasional moan as we edged closer and closer to climax. “Like Dante descending into the Inferno,” I thought, though I wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was the heat, the way the air seemed to grip us, or the way I felt like I was crossing some kind of threshold.

“Check this out,” he said, pulling out his phone and opening Instagram. He scrolled through images of girls from our school, their smiling faces, their tight bodies, their suggestive poses. We both groaned, our hands moving faster now, our dicks throbbing with need. He switched to porn, the images more explicit, more raw, and I felt my balls tighten, the pressure building.

I came, a strong stream of cum shooting out of my dick, landing on the floor beside his earlier mess. He followed moments later, his load joining mine, the two of us standing there, panting, our dicks still hard, our hands still moving.

We didn’t stop. We had no reason to stop. It was like some kind of fucked-up marathon, the two of us pushing each other to go further, to last longer, to cum harder. We pulled up more images, more videos, our hands never stopping, our dicks never softening. I lost track of how many times I came, the pleasure building and building until it felt like I was going to burst.

He was like a machine, his cock never flagging, his load spilling out again and again, each one oozier than the last. I lost count after his sixth, my own body trembling with exhaustion, my dick still hard, still throbbing.

“This is insane,” I muttered, my voice hoarse, my hand cramping from the constant motion.

“Insane like Moby Dick,” he said, grinning at me, his eyes shining with a kind of wild, unhinged excitement. “We’re chasing the white whale, man. We’re not stopping until we’ve got it.”

I laughed, though it came out more like a groan, my body aching, my dick still begging for more. And then, just when I thought I couldn’t take it anymore, he moved closer, his body pressing against mine, his hand reaching for my dick.

“Let’s see if we can do it together,” he whispered, his breath hot against my ear, and I nodded, my heart racing, my body on fire.

Somehow, my exhaustion faded when he began touching me. I didn’t expect it, especially after cumming multiple times, but the porn still playing on his phone, combined with the way his hand wrapped around my aching cock, reignited the fire in me. My body responded instantly, my dick twitching in his grip, already leaking precum. I let him jerk me off, my breath hitching as his fingers moved expertly over my sensitive skin.

Of course, I returned the favor. My hand found his cock, still hard and hot, and I stroked him in rhythm with his movements. The shed was alive with the sound of our ragged breathing, the slick slide of our hands, and the soft moans from our lips.

In the spirit of wild adventure, I leaned in, my heart racing, and pressed my lips to his. He didn’t hesitate, his tongue meeting mine in a hungry, desperate kiss. Boy or girl, the feeling was electric, the warmth of his mouth sending shivers down my spine. My hand tightened around his cock as I came again, a weaker but still intense spurt of cum adding to the mess on the floor.

True to form, he didn’t stop. Even though my dick was sensitive, sore, and downright empty, he kept tugging me, his hand never slowing. I did the same for him, my fingers moving in time with his, our bodies locked in a feverish rhythm. It was insane, reckless, and utterly intoxicating. I leaned down to spit on his cock, and he mimicked it on me.

“Fuck,” I muttered, my voice hoarse, my body trembling with overstimulation.

“Don’t stop,” he whispered, his lips brushing against mine, his breath hot and desperate.

We didn’t. The porn kept playing, the images flickering on the screen, fueling our lust even further. I have no idea how many times we came, the pleasure building and building until it felt like we were floating, untethered from reality. It was raw, primal, and completely unhinged, and I loved every second of it.

It was around sunset when his mom texted him to come inside for dinner, and our session was over. We flipped the switch and started acting totally straight again as we got dressed, even when his sweaty ass was in my face as he bent over to grab his pants, damp from furiously jerking off all afternoon. The smell of sweat and cum still wafted into our nostrils, but we ignored it, pulling on our clothes with practiced casualness.

We came in for dinner, his mom standing at the stove with a wooden spoon in hand, her apron speckled with tomato sauce. “What were you two doing out there all afternoon?” she asked, her tone light but curious.

He didn’t miss a beat. “Just working on my engine,” he said, his voice steady, his face completely straight. “You know, getting ready for the summer road trips.”

I almost choked on my water, but I managed to keep a straight face. His mom nodded, satisfied with the answer, and turned back to the stove. I shot him a look, and he smirked, that same cocky grin I’d seen a thousand times, but now it felt loaded with something else—something secret and shared.

We sat down at the table, the space between us full of unspoken words. His mom dished out spaghetti and meatballs to us and his brother, who was quietly playing on his phone while eating. We ate in silence, the only sound the clinking of forks against plates. My mind kept drifting back to the shed, to the way his hand had felt on my dick, the way his lips had tasted against mine. I glanced at him across the table, and he caught my eye, his grin widening ever so slightly.

“You boys want seconds?” his mom asked, breaking the silence.

“Yes, please,” we said almost in unison.

"I thought you boys looked like you could go for another round," she said to us, and we looked at each other knowingly, and then laughed, the tension easing just a little.

But as I pushed my plate away, and his Mom left for the kitchen, I had a creeping thought, and acted on it before I could even think about it. Just as he was shoving another meatball into his face, I moved my foot over and slowly crept it up his leg.

His head jerked to look at me, his face frozen, realizing this wasn't over yet. He looked over to his brother, who had looked up from his phone to give us a knowing smirk.

Everyone is 18.

He said he could cum in less than twenty seconds, then just keep going and cum again a minute later.

“This is crazy, but I have to see it.”

Cut to us in his backyard shed after school and he’s showing me.

The shed smelled of old wood and the faint tang of motor oil, but I barely noticed. My heart was pounding as I stared at him, my best friend since freshman year, standing there with his pants around his ankles. His plump, half hard cock hung sweating between his legs, pale and smooth, the tip starting to pulse, coming to life. I swallowed hard, my own dick twitching in my jeans as he grinned at me, that cocky smirk I’d seen a thousand times before.

“Start the timer,” he said, his voice low and steady, like he was about to perform some kind of magic trick. And maybe he was. I fumbled with my phone, my fingers trembling as I opened the stopwatch app. “Ready?” he asked, and I nodded, unable to speak.

He started slow, his hand wrapping around his flaccid cock, his fingers sliding over the soft skin. But within seconds, he was moving faster, his hand pumping up and down, his dick thickening before my eyes. It was like watching a flower bloom in fast-forward, his cock growing harder and harder with each stroke. Precum beaded at the tip, glistening in the dim light, and I felt my own dick straining against the fabric of my jeans.

“Fifteen seconds,” I muttered, my voice barely above a whisper. He nodded, his breathing quickening, his hand moving even faster now. His cock was fully erect, the veins standing out against the pale skin, the head flushed a deep red. And then, just as I hit the twenty-second mark, he came. A thick stream of cum shot out of his dick, splattering onto the wooden floor, and I watched, mesmerized, as he kept going, his hand never stopping.

“Fifty seconds,” I said, my voice shaky now, my own hand unconsciously moving to my crotch. He nodded again, his eyes closed, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps. And then, just as promised, he came again, another load spilling out of his cock, adding to the mess on the floor.

I was rock hard now, my dick pressing painfully against the zipper of my jeans. He looked at me, his chest heaving, his cock still hard and leaking.

“Your turn,” he said, and even though this wasn't part of the plan, I didn’t hesitate.

I unzipped my jeans, pulling them down along with my boxers, my own cock springing free. It was thicker than his and heavy, the head already glistening with precum, my balls tight against my body.

We stood there, just a few feet apart, our dicks in our hands, stroking ourselves in unison. The shed was filled with the sound of our breathing, the soft slap of skin against skin, and the occasional moan as we edged closer and closer to climax. “Like Dante descending into the Inferno,” I thought, though I wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was the heat, the way the air seemed to grip us, or the way I felt like I was crossing some kind of threshold.

“Check this out,” he said, pulling out his phone and opening Instagram. He scrolled through images of girls from our school, their smiling faces, their tight bodies, their suggestive poses. We both groaned, our hands moving faster now, our dicks throbbing with need. He switched to porn, the images more explicit, more raw, and I felt my balls tighten, the pressure building.

I came, a strong stream of cum shooting out of my dick, landing on the floor beside his earlier mess. He followed moments later, his load joining mine, the two of us standing there, panting, our dicks still hard, our hands still moving.

We didn’t stop. We had no reason to stop. It was like some kind of fucked-up marathon, the two of us pushing each other to go further, to last longer, to cum harder. We pulled up more images, more videos, our hands never stopping, our dicks never softening. I lost track of how many times I came, the pleasure building and building until it felt like I was going to burst.

He was like a machine, his cock never flagging, his load spilling out again and again, each one oozier than the last. I lost count after his sixth, my own body trembling with exhaustion, my dick still hard, still throbbing.

“This is insane,” I muttered, my voice hoarse, my hand cramping from the constant motion.

“Insane like Moby Dick,” he said, grinning at me, his eyes shining with a kind of wild, unhinged excitement. “We’re chasing the white whale, man. We’re not stopping until we’ve got it.”

I laughed, though it came out more like a groan, my body aching, my dick still begging for more. And then, just when I thought I couldn’t take it anymore, he moved closer, his body pressing against mine, his hand reaching for my dick.

“Let’s see if we can do it together,” he whispered, his breath hot against my ear, and I nodded, my heart racing, my body on fire.

Somehow, my exhaustion faded when he began touching me. I didn’t expect it, especially after cumming multiple times, but the porn still playing on his phone, combined with the way his hand wrapped around my aching cock, reignited the fire in me. My body responded instantly, my dick twitching in his grip, already leaking precum. I let him jerk me off, my breath hitching as his fingers moved expertly over my sensitive skin.

Of course, I returned the favor. My hand found his cock, still hard and hot, and I stroked him in rhythm with his movements. The shed was alive with the sound of our ragged breathing, the slick slide of our hands, and the soft moans from our lips.

In the spirit of wild adventure, I leaned in, my heart racing, and pressed my lips to his. He didn’t hesitate, his tongue meeting mine in a hungry, desperate kiss. Boy or girl, the feeling was electric, the warmth of his mouth sending shivers down my spine. My hand tightened around his cock as I came again, a weaker but still intense spurt of cum adding to the mess on the floor.

True to form, he didn’t stop. Even though my dick was sensitive, sore, and downright empty, he kept tugging me, his hand never slowing. I did the same for him, my fingers moving in time with his, our bodies locked in a feverish rhythm. It was insane, reckless, and utterly intoxicating. I leaned down to spit on his cock, and he mimicked it on me.

“Fuck,” I muttered, my voice hoarse, my body trembling with overstimulation.

“Don’t stop,” he whispered, his lips brushing against mine, his breath hot and desperate.

We didn’t. The porn kept playing, the images flickering on the screen, fueling our lust even further. I have no idea how many times we came, the pleasure building and building until it felt like we were floating, untethered from reality. It was raw, primal, and completely unhinged, and I loved every second of it.

It was around sunset when his mom texted him to come inside for dinner, and our session was over. We flipped the switch and started acting totally straight again as we got dressed, even when his sweaty ass was in my face as he bent over to grab his pants, damp from furiously jerking off all afternoon. The smell of sweat and cum still wafted into our nostrils, but we ignored it, pulling on our clothes with practiced casualness.

We came in for dinner, his mom standing at the stove with a wooden spoon in hand, her apron speckled with tomato sauce. “What were you two doing out there all afternoon?” she asked, her tone light but curious.

He didn’t miss a beat. “Just working on my engine,” he said, his voice steady, his face completely straight. “You know, getting ready for the summer road trips.”

I almost choked on my water, but I managed to keep a straight face. His mom nodded, satisfied with the answer, and turned back to the stove. I shot him a look, and he smirked, that same cocky grin I’d seen a thousand times, but now it felt loaded with something else—something secret and shared.

We sat down at the table, the space between us full of unspoken words. His mom dished out spaghetti and meatballs to us and his brother, who was quietly playing on his phone while eating. We ate in silence, the only sound the clinking of forks against plates. My mind kept drifting back to the shed, to the way his hand had felt on my dick, the way his lips had tasted against mine. I glanced at him across the table, and he caught my eye, his grin widening ever so slightly.

“You boys want seconds?” his mom asked, breaking the silence.

“Yes, please,” we said almost in unison.

"I thought you boys looked like you could go for another round," she said to us, and we looked at each other knowingly, and then laughed, the tension easing just a little.

But as I pushed my plate away, and his Mom left for the kitchen, I had a creeping thought, and acted on it before I could even think about it. Just as he was shoving another meatball into his face, I moved my foot over and slowly crept it up his leg.

His head jerked to look at me, his face frozen, realizing this wasn't over yet. He looked over to his brother, who had looked up from his phone to give us a knowing smirk.