Date: Tue, 4 Dec 2012 19:36:53 -0500 From: Sean Williams Subject: The Nicholson Boy Chapter 3 The Nicholson Boy Chapter 3 [The usual disclaimers apply here. You already know them by now, lamezoids.] The next morning, I woke up to the tenderest steak I could ever imagine. No, I'm not talking about someone's dick, I actually mean a sirloin steak. The onions were soft but crunchy and they added the perfect touch of what you might call Southern flavor to the steak. By now, Frank's white apron was gettin' a little dirty from all the cooking he was doin' but I don't see how I could complain when he was making breakfast for me. I mean, that would basically make me an ingrate, I think. "It looks like you don't mind my cookin' too much," Frank said as he joined me at the table. He removed his apron and slung it over one of the empty dining room table chairs. He sat down with his legs spread wide apart. "Frank, this is amazin'," I said. "You should consider being a chef. I mean, if you wasn't dead and all. You know what I mean." "I don't wanna cook for anybody but you, Tucker. That would just be odd." I paused for a moment and looked around the room. It was a small dining room with a low ceiling. You could see the beams of the roof if you looked up. And the house was just sorta an out of the way, old-fashioned farm house. It was kinda nice and reminded me of home. Actually, since I had come to Tennessee I only felt at home when I was spending the night with Frank. Frank had this old mattress that creaked like a whining dog every time anybody turned in the bed, but it was kinda cool because Frank never really tried anything. I mean, when I woke up this morning he was sorta fingerin' my ass but I didn't mind it all that much. It kinda tickled and it made me laugh. It felt kinda good too. But he never tried to plow me or anything. It's weird. If Frank wanted to try that again I would probably let him, but it was nice that the fucking wasn't the focus. We were just sorta gettin' to know each other. "So when are you gonna tell me what's goin' on, Tucker?" Frank said this in between bites from his steak. I looked over at him. I shrugged. "I don't know what you're talkin' about, Nicholson." It looked like Frank was enjoying his steak as much as I was. "Well, you told me that you had practice yesterday but you didn't tell me why in the name of Jesus you were walkin' ten miles along the county road wearin' a Flash Gordon costume." "Do you really wanna know?" "I'm surprised you even know who Flash Gordon is." "I mean, I wouldn't say that I know who this Flash Gordon fella is, I just sorta know about him." "You gonna answer the question?" "What's the question?" Frank sighed. "Did something happen at practice? I noticed you had a pretty nasty shiner on your back. This big purple bruise. I'd like to know how that happened." "Sure, Dad. I'll tell you everything you wanna know." "You know what, Tucker. You don't have to tell me nothin' if you don't want to, buddy. How does that sound?" "Baseball hit me in the back," I said. "Right here," and I lifted up my shirt and pointed to the spot where I knew the bruise was because I could feel it. I was drunk yesterday and a little hungover today, but I still remembered that I got the bruise when Coach Gunn punched me in the back hard as he could in an attempt to take my cherry. But, I couldn't very well tell Frank that. "Yeah, it was a baseball. I mean, I am on the baseball team and all." "So that's the story you're goin' with?" "Yep." There was some silence after that and I was able to get a good look at Frank as he sat there eating. As usual, his hair was groomed perfect and it seemed like he was getting handsomer every day, in that blue collar working guy type of way. "Anybody messin' with ya?" After Frank said this, he set down his knife and fork and looked me dead in the eyes. Just the sorta way that my Dad would after asking me how come the school hadn't mailed my report cards home in three months. "No," I said. I was done with my steak and eggs (in about three minutes flat) and so I set down the knife and fork and stood up from the table. "I'm gonna go." "You're gonna go out wearin' that? You do realize that you're still wearin' that Flash Gordon costume?" "Well, would you rather I walked to campus in my birthday suit?" "Your birthday suit?" asked Frank. "Oh. You mean in the buff. No, I meant that I could give you some of my clothes and you could wear those." So I went to class that day wearin' a pair of Frank's old jeans, a t-shirt, and the famous work boots. Frank offered to give me a ride to campus in his Camaro, but I figured that was taking a risk so I asked him to drop me off at the bottom of the slope and I walked up to the quad. "Alright, this is gonna be a problem," said Brian Matheson, setting down his pencil on the paper. He was sitting beside me in Physics class and we were listening to Professor Binder go on and on about the refraction of light. I guess I shoulda asked Matheson what he was talkin' about but I was not only tired, but I was making an attempt to pay attention to the lecture. Matheson kept looking over at me like he wanted me to look back at him or talk or something, but I guess I just wasn't in the mood. Now that I was out of Frank's place, all that had happened the day before came back and hit me as fresh as if I was still in Coach Gunn's house and he was dragging me back to the bed. I started thinking that maybe I should've just let him take my cherry like he wanted to. Maybe that would just be easier. Now I would have to see him at practice and he might tell the guys on the team that I was a fag or somethin'. I mean, he may not tell them that he fucked me but he would probably be really mad and want revenge. That would probably make him say somethin' that would make me look bad. And honestly, I think if I saw the guys on the team whispering over my shoulder I would just quit school and go back to Kentucky. I don't know what I was thinkin' going to college. I'm just a dumb hick anyway. "Do you understand any of this shit?" Matheson asked this. "Yeah, the formula he's talkin' about is on page 351 in the book." "But I didn't bring the textbook." "Use mine." I reached into my bookbag and pulled out the textbook. It was a good thing that I had left my textbook in my lockerroom yesterday before practice or I would have been up a creek. "Ah. Fuck!" I said as reached over to hand Matheson the book. "Something wrong with your back?" "No. I'm fine." Matheson looked at me for a little bit without saying anything, then he said: "So you got the costume?" "What costume?" "The Flash Gordon costume. Didn't Coach Gunn give you a ride yesterday?" "Yeah. Right. Yup, I went over to Coach Gunn's and got the Flash Gordon costume." "Then what." "Then I came home. Why're you grillin' me, man?" "Um, didn't realize I was grillin' you. Just wanted to know what happened. Coach Gunn is kind of a douche, huh?" "Yeah, I didn't realize that at first, but he's like a total dick. He's more than that, I mean, he's basically like Doctor Octopus." "Nine dicks." "Word." "Help me with this formula, dipshit," said Matheson, opening the textbook I had given to him. "You said page 351, right?" Matheson turned to page 351 and looked it up and down a few times like he was trying to decipher the Rosetta Stone or something. "I don't know what the fuck is goin' on. What's 'c'?" " 'C' is the speed of light, dumbass," I said. "Just forget about it. Professor Binder is like ten pages ahead of that by now. I figure you'll have to go over that later." "Yeah, I don't even know why I come to class. Can't keep up. Maybe you can help me later. I mean, after practice tomorrow." "I don't think I'm going to practice tomorrow. I mean, with my back the way it is." "But that doesn't mean you can't meet me after I go to practice? Just say, yes, lamezoid." "Fine. Yes." "Alright, then, it's a date, bro. I mean, it's a plan, or whatever." I spent that night with Frank again, and the night after that, and I awoke that morning to another steak breakfast. Not only did Frank make steak but he made all the other stuff, too. Four different kinds of meat! Honestly, it was starting to look like I should just move into Frank's ghost house because not only was I not at my dorm all that much, but I liked his place much better. I mean, it was actually a house and not some sort of dumb college student roach motel. Like I had told Matheson in class, I had decided not to go to practice. It really had nothing to do with my back, though it still hurt like a son of a bitch from when Coach Gunn punched me, but I just didn't want to run into the coach. Actually, I not only skipped practice but I basically skipped the whole school day. I didn't go to class at all. I was kind of feeling like I wasn't really into school anymore. I just wanted to spend all my time with Frank. Some time we would just hang out in the kitchen or on the couch or whatever and talk. Just two guys hangin' out and talkin' about stuff. He didn't even have a working television, but we never ran out of stuff to do or to say. Even though I knew Frank was dead, he felt more real to me than the stupid jocks and rape-happy coaches that formed my life at school. I wasn't a complete idiot. I mean, I knew that my life was heading in a bad direction if I was skipping baseball practice, classes, and spending all my time with a dead guy, but I just didn't really give a shit anymore. Later, I was back in Physics class when I heard someone plop down in the seat beside me. I already knew it was Matheson. "Way to ditch me for studying, dipshit," he said. "Yeah, sorry, man," I said. "I just wasn't feeling up to school that day. I didn't even leave my dorm." "That's funny cuz I went to your dorm and it didn't seem like you were there either." Oh shit. He caught me. How was I gonna get outta this one? "I knocked on your door," he added. "Yeah... um..." I stuttered. "I musta been in a really deep sleep. Yeah, I mean, just like a really deep sleep. Like the time when the Joker gave Batman..." "Yeah, whatever," said Matheson. "Honestly, I didn't even really wanna study that much. I mean, I know I need it or I'm totally gonna fail this class, but I really just wanted to talk." "Energy is equal to Planck's constant times the speed of light over..." Professor Binder droned on. "We're talkin' now, Einstein," I said. I was scramblin' to write it all down. "Yeah, I know," said Matheson. He leaned back in his chair and he had this sorta look on his face that I had never seen before. It was a serious but kinda sensitive look. Matheson looked over at me. "I just realized that I don't even know you all that well. I mean, we're on the baseball team and we talk, but you can't say that we've had like a conversation. Just, like, two people talkin' about real stuff. I mean, how many times can you talk about fuckin' Halloween." "Yeah, now you know how I feel." "So, let's talk." "Whaddaya wanna know?" "Alright, so I know you're from Kentucky..." "Yep, I'm from Kentucky and I live with my parents." "And..." "I guess you might say we live in a small town, but we have a supermarket. I mean, there's one in the town. So yeah, I live there with my Mom and Dad. Well, my Mom and my step-Dad. I have eight brothers and sisters. No, I'm serious. I'm the fifth kid and the third boy. Yeah, I'm right in the middle. My Dad died when I was ten, right after my youngest sister was born." Matheson was lookin' over at me and it seemed like he really cared what I had to say. He was wearing a sweatshirt and sweatpants and he was sitting back in the chair with his legs spread apart. I could see the outline of his dick through his pants because he obviously wasn't wearing drawers. Either that or he had a hard-on. "Ok, and what else?" "Um... I don't really like baseball all that much..." "How do you not like baseball and you're a starter on the baseball team?" Matheson rubbed his chin as he asked this. He had a couple days worth of stubble oh his chin and he looked good like that. "I know." "And you're an awesome player, Tucker." "I know, but, I feel kinda like whatever about it. When I was a kid my step-dad thought I was spending too much time in the house so he made me join the team. We found out that I made a really good third baseman." "Man, I never woulda guessed that you don't like baseball because you're awesome..." "I don't hate it," I said, "but I mean, I don't know." "See," said Matheson, looking over at me again. We were almost halfway done with class and he hadn't even taken his notebook out of his bag. "I'm learnin' so much about you already. I mean, like, you obviously have middle child syndrome." I laughed. "Thanks, Dr. Freud." "I'm serious," said Matheson. "You have so much to be confident about and you're just like whatever about everything." "Yeah, I don't think I need the psychoanalysis today." "Way to use big words, dipshit," said Brian. "Oh, wait, I have an idea. Unzip your jeans." "What? Why?" "You'll see." In spite of my better judgment (or, I guess, using no judgment at all. Whatsoever.), I unzipped my jeans. Matheson looked around to see if anyone was nearby and no one was. We were sitting in the back of the class and the lights were down because Professor Binder was planning on showing a video later. Before I could say "Willy Wonka and the chocolate factory," Matheson was reaching into my pants and grabbing onto my dick. My dick was already semi-hard. Honestly, I got a hard-on as soon as Matheson sat down. Not really sure why. I knew that Matheson was a contender for douchebag-of-the-year, but he had this affect on me. Maybe because he had sucked me off before. "You're already ready to go," said Matheson, looking down at my throbbing dick. "Brian, what the fuck are you doin'?" I whispered. A girl in front of me in class turned around briefly and gave me a stank face. I smiled innocently and she turned back around. "Brian, are you crazy? Stop." "Stop what?" Brian said as he lowered his head toward my crotch. Before I knew it, my cock was in his mouth. "Oh fuck," I whispered. "ShuuU uuuhhhh annnn juuu shurrrr baaaaa..." Matheson mumbled. I'm not sure what Matheson said, but I think he just told me to shup, sit back, and enjoy the ride, or something. Kind of a lot to get out with a dick in your mouth, I suppose. "Brian, you're crazy," I said. The girl in front of me had clearly had enough and she got up and moved to the the front of the class. "Great," said Matheson, after he momentarily pulled my dick out of his mouth. "Put your hand on the back of my head." I rested my hand on Matheson's head and guided it back down to my dick. While Matheson began to deep-throat me again, I reached down and pulled up his shirt so I could rub my fingers on his abs. Matheson's abs were rock-hard from hours and hours of doing crunches and leg lifts at the gym I guess. It seemed like Matheson was always at the gym whenever I went; I figured he just went to show off, to impress the girls, but it seems like his hard work paid off. I don't know how many dicks Matheson had sucked before but he was basically a pro. He knew just how to massage my cock with his lips and play with my piss slit with his tongue to send me over the edge. Within a few seconds I was leaking pre-cum. "We can't do this here," I said. "Alright," said Matheson. "Let's go find a room," and we left the lecture through a back door. After I had pulled my pants up, that is. We found an empty classroom on the third floor of the Physics building. It was filled with those seats that have the flat desk part that you can fold down to the side of the chair. I was beginning to think that this was a bad idea, but anything would be better than getting caught with your pants down in the back of the lecture hall. Brian led me by the arm over to a desk. He took off his sweatshirt and his shirt and pulled down his sweatpants. "I want you to fuck me," he said. Matheson leaned over the side of the desk and I almost came right then and there. I had seen Matheson's ass before, so I already knew that he had a strong, meaty ass, but I had never seen him in this position before. It was truly a beautiful sight. The way that Matheson was laid out, his back was arched a little bit and his muscular round asscheeks were pointing right up toward my face. His ass was so meaty that I wanted to give it a slap, but I was afraid of making too much noise. I could see those little muscles at the tip of his back where his back curved down to his ass and it was like I had never noticed them before. Matheson reached back behind himself and spread his asscheeks apart. In the center was the tiniest pink hole in Tennessee. I was a little shocked. I thought that Matheson would have a big anus, for obvious reasons. "Your hole looks so tight," I said. "You never been fucked before?" "Course not, dipshit." My dick was already pulsating in excitement so it wasn't easy getting the condom on. Once it was on, I lubed my dick up with spit. I lubed my fingers up with spit too and I worked them into Matheson's ass. "Oh yeah," Matheson said and his voice was pure joy. I had never heard him that excited, even when he told us the story about how he fucked three thirty-something women in the back of a car at the same time. "Fuck... Fuck me," said Brian I pulled my fingers out of Matheson's jock butt and grabbed on to my dick. I pushed it in. "Yeah," Matheson moaned as my dick entered in. I went really slow since I knew that Matheson was a virgin and steadily his hole opened up for me. He may have been a virgin but boy did his ass open wide for me. I had taken off my shirt and pulled down my pants already, and I leaned my body down against Matheson's back as my cock slid in. The feeling of my chest against his back felt really good as I fucked his big, beefy ass. Soon I was in balls deep and I wrapped my arms around Matheson as I began to work my thrusts into a motion. With my arms around him, I could feel Matheson's meaty pecs and his big, fleshy nipples. I could even feel the hair on his chest. It took all my concentration to not prevent from cumming, it was all so hot. "Fuck me harder," said Matheson. "Fuck me, Tucker." I had been fucking Matheson kinda slow cuz I didn't wanna hurt him, but I didn't need any more goading to fuck him harder. I stood up a little bit more and I began to pound Matheson's ass with my cock. I placed my hands on his shoulders to steady myself. Matheson's muscular butt jiggled a little as I slammed it and it felt like his hole was squeezing my dick. I was close. "I'm gonna cum soon," I said. The sight of Matheson's muscle body with his wide back and meaty ass underneath me was more than I could take. "Cum on my back," said Brian. As he said this, Matheson reached up for my right hand and brought it toward his face. I put two fingers in his mouth and he sucked on them real good. "Here I come," I said after I had pulled out my cock and taken off the condom. "Ah, fuck. Fuck!" I tried not to scream too loud. I jerked my dick and my hole body seemed to throb with an electric shock. I felt weak in the knees as the first spurt of cum came out of my dick. It landed right in the middle of Matheson's back and quickly trickled down toward his ass cheeks. I came again and and again and most landed on Matheson's back, but some landed on the desk or the floor. I still had my fingers in Matheson's mouth and he continued to suck on them. "Ah, that hot cum on my back did it for me," he said. "I'm gonna cum, too! Ah, fuck! Fuck yeah! I'm gonna cum! I'm gonna cum! Fuck here I cum! Here I cum! Yeah! Here I cum! I'm gonna cum, boy! It's gonna be a gusher!" "Dude, just cum already..." "Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh!" Matheson came all over the seat and it was the biggest cum shot that I had ever seen in my life. On the seat, sorta hidden by the desk, this big pool of white, sticky stuff had pooled and I surely felt sorry for whatever unsuspecting sucker sat in that tomorrow. They would be smelling like cum all day long, not to mention the big cum stain that would be on their pants. Matheson was so loud when he was cumming that while we were getting dressed, I kept wondering whether or not someone would come into the room. Matheson was slow to dress because he kept talkin' the whole time. "I'm not a bad guy," he said. "I wanna prove it to you. I mean, I wanna be good friends. You could trust me with anything, man." He was saying stuff like that. I was done dressing already so I walked over to the window. My eyes locked with those of someone sitting on a car parked right below the window. A red Camaro. It was Frank Nicholson. [TO BE CONTINUED] [As always, send comments and corrections to the e-mail address above. Thanks, guys!]