Disclaimer and Legal Stuff:  Don't read this if you're not supposed to, either because you live in a regressive community or you don't like erotic stories about gay sex (in which case, why are you here?).  If you distribute this story, that's fine, just don't edit it and leave my name on it.  Thanks.

Brains Over Brawn
Chapter 3

Someone was stroking my cheek.  My eyelids fluttered open, and my eyes focused on Ryan looking at my face.  My first thought was one of complete shock; it only took about a second for me to remember where I was and why -- I felt a familiar feeling of dried cum on my body and a completely new feeling, a dull throb, in my ass.  I still tasted his cum, faintly.  My face must have registered my alarm, because his initial easy smile quickly clouded over.

"Yeah, it wasn't a nightmare, jock boy," he frowned.

"What time is it?"

"It's about 11," he answered.  I looked to the window because the overhead lights were on and the room was bright.  Still dark, so I hadn't been gone all night.

"I have to go home," I told him.  My parents didn't bitch a lot about me being out, but they hadn't gotten home when I left and I hadn't left them a note about where I'd be or when I'd get back.  It occurred to me that I hadn't seen Ryan's parents, or anyone else, and that he didn't seem to be worried about us being caught in bed together.  Hell, he hadn't even told me to shut the bedroom door behind me when we had come up from the kitchen.

His eyes searched mine and then scanned my face.  "You liked getting it up the ass, Alex.  You don't want to admit it to yourself, but you did."  He rolled away from me and sat up.  His mood was completely different from just a few hours earlier.  His arrogance was gone.  I watched him put on his glasses and then slip his feet into his briefs and pull them up to his waist as he stood.  He walked over to his desk and switched on the computer.  He sat in his padded desk chair and never looked towards me.  "There's a bathroom directly across the hall.  You're going to want to shower because you're covered in my cum...and yours."

I extracted myself from the crust that connected me to the mattress.  Each move of my thighs deepened the ache in my asshole, and when I sat on the edge of the bed it felt like I had a ping-pong ball fixed just outside my opening.  As I stood and walked to the bedroom doorway, I glanced over at Ryan to see if he was checking me out while I was naked, but his eyes never left the monitor.  I crossed the hall, entered the bathroom, and was confronted by yet another elegantly designed facility.

Like the bathroom of a New York penthouse, there was a walk-in shower in one corner and a whirlpool bath in another.  Perpendicular to these on one wall was a long double vanity the mirrors over which reflected the toilet and a bidet.  I took a towel from the deeply varnished linen cabinet that stood between the shower and the whirlpool, stepped into the shower, and turned it on.  The streams hit me on all sides as three shower heads began to spray warm water.  Just the water felt wonderful, and I don't know how long I stood under it before I lathered up to rid myself of the vestiges of Ryan's orgasms and my own.

After rinsing, I stayed under the water still longer, wondering how many times I would have to relive this night before Ryan decided I'd had enough and cut me loose.  I thought for a moment that it might not be so bad; the orgasm I'd had tonight had definitely been the best ever.  I quickly shook that thought from my head, turned off the water, stepped out, and toweled off.  Wrapping the towel around my waist, I walked back into Ryan's bedroom, but he wasn't there.  I saw my clothes on the desk where I'd left them and began to get dressed.

When I'd finished, I walked over to Ryan's bookshelf and looked over the countless volumes that filled it.  A lot were math and physics and computer science books:  imaginary numbers, Stephen Hawking, UNIX.  Some were classics, like Robert Louis Stevenson, and even a three-part collection of The Divine Comedy.  I wondered just how many of the books Ryan had actually read and just how smart he really was.  I went over to his windows and looked out.  I put my face to the glass and shielded the overhead light out with my hands.  There were no exterior lights on, so I couldn't see anything.  From the orientation of the room against the stairs and what I'd seen of the ground floor, I guessed his room overlooked the back yard.

I didn't know what I was supposed to do.  I didn't think I should go roaming the house to find Ryan.  He'd been pretty dismissive about my wanting to leave and about telling me to shower.  In a way, I figured I was lucky he didn't make me stay, or worse, kick me out to go home covered in dried cum.  With nothing left to do, I turned, left his room, and made my way back downstairs.

As I reached the foot of the stairway and the foyer, I saw it.  He'd hung my shirt, the one I'd used to cheat on Mrs. Gresham's exam, on the knob of the front door.  I stared at it in disbelief.  One night?  That was all?  I looked around.  "Ryan?"  I called out.  All I heard was silence.  I looked around the hallway corner back to the kitchen.  Nothing.  I grabbed my shirt, walked out the front door, and drove home.


I woke up hard.  Rock hard.  I reached down into my boxers and fished out my cock, and as I began to slide my hand up and down my shaft, I couldn't help but remember what had occurred the night before.  I tried to shake off the memory, and thought back to the cheerleader I had been seeing until we broke up at Thanksgiving.  I focused on the feel of her breasts, and how my cock felt when I slid it inside her.  Somehow, though, it just didn't work out.  I couldn't keep the echoes of Ryan's cock plowing my ass from creeping in.  Every time I thought of cumming in that cheerleader, I recalled the explosive orgasm I'd had while I had been fucked.

Frustrated, I got out of bed.  I walked over to my desk in the corner where my computer was booted and ready.  I signed onto my ISP and began to cruise some of my bookmarked porn sites.  Hot girls, big tits, facials.  I looked at some of the girls with cum on their faces, and I was again taken back to the previous night.  How had I looked when, after I'd sucked him off, Ryan dipped his own cum from my mouth with his cock and smeared it on my face?  My wood was subsiding a little, but my horniness wasn't.

Suddenly, I had a thought.  I keyed the URL for my favorite search engine, and looked for a reverse phone directory.  Finding one, I used the address to Ryan's house to find his number.  I stared at the screen.  I looked at the shirt peeking out of my basket of dirty laundry, the shirt that had gotten me into all this mess.  I looked back at the screen.  I thought back to the waves of electricity that had surged through my entire body as Ryan had found the spot inside my ass over and over again.  My dick throbbed.

I drummed my fingers on the desktop and bit my lip indecisively.  I couldn't call him.  What would I say?  I wasn't gay.  I mean, I couldn't be.  I'd fucked girls, I was a jock, I was popular.  But the fact remained that being fucked up the ass was the hottest thing I'd ever had done to me.  I sure as hell wasn't going to admit that to anyone who didn't know it.  Ryan knew it already; "You liked getting it up the ass, Alex.  You don't want to admit it to yourself, but you did."  His words burned into my brain.  He was right.

I closed my eyes and closed my hand around my cock again.  I slid my ass off the edge of the chair slightly, and reached under my balls with my free hand.  I began to stroke my still slightly sore asshole through my underwear with my middle fingertip while I beat off through my fly.  What the hell was happening to me?  I didn't know, and really, I didn't care.  I let my mind wander freely back to being fucked and how it had felt.  I even returned to sucking Ryan's cock and the taste of his cum in my mouth, the feeling of his spunk drying on my face.  At last, I blew a long, hard load up onto my chest.  Hell, some of it almost hit my chin.

I looked down at the ropes of glimmering pearl jam.  How did mine taste, compared to Ryan's?  A couple of girls knew what mine tasted like from blowing me, but I didn't.  For a minute, it occurred to me that it might be sick to taste my own jizz, but hell, I'd tasted another guy's, hadn't I?  Not only that, but the memory of sucking and having cum shot into my mouth was partly responsible for the load I was wearing.

I lifted my slickened hand to my mouth and tentatively licked at the slime that covered my fingers.  It was salty and bleachy like Ryan's, but something was missing.  I didn't know what it was.  Curiosity piqued, I deliberately sucked my hand dry.  I still couldn't figure out why my cum would taste different from his, or what the difference in the taste was exactly.  Before I realized what I was doing, I had scooped up all the cum from my chest and fed it to myself.  Fuck!  I'd blown my load thinking about being a cocksucker and drinking semen, about taking cock and sperm up my ass!  And now I'd finished eating that same load from off my own body.

I felt disgusted with myself.  I raised my eyes from my softened cock and now relatively clean chest, and I saw Ryan's phone number on the monitor, waiting for me.  Beckoning to me.  I stared at it again.  In seconds, my disgust completely faded.  It had been transformed into a new emotion, one equally powerful and definitely more dangerous:  lust.  I wanted Ryan to fuck me again.  I didn't know why, and I didn't care how.  I grabbed a pencil from the desk drawer and scrawled the number on a pad.  I'd just jerked off, but as I stood up and headed to the bathroom to shower, I felt the blood flowing back into my dick.

I beat off again in the shower, and this time I let my cum wash down the drain.  The second orgasm helped clear my mind, and I got dressed and went about my day, running to the mall and getting some Christmas presents.  By mid-afternoon, I'd finished my shopping for the day, the horniness was back, and I could feel my cock stirring in my pants.  I was in my bedroom, stashing my cache of family presents where they wouldn't be found by my mom.  For some reason, probably some subconscious imperative, my eyes flickered over my desk and caught Ryan's number, which I'd scribbled in the morning.

Impulsively, I picked up my phone and dialed.  I didn't even think.  Not about why I was calling or what I would say.

"Hello?"  It was his voice.

I didn't know what to say.  I sat there, like an obscene caller, saying nothing.  His voice had frozen me -- a deer in headlights all over again.

"Hello?!" he repeated.

"Ryan?" I asked needlessly.

"Yeah.  Who is this?"

"It's, uh...  It's Alex."

There was a pause.  "What do you want?  You've got your shirt back."

"Uh, I was wondering.  About last night..."  I started.  It was a good effort, but I had no idea where I was going.  I trailed off mid-sentence and there was silence from his end.  And then I heard it, the change in his voice, and his new tone.  Well, not his new tone, but the arrogant, commanding, condescending tone he'd last used while we were in his bedroom.

"You mean, you were wondering about how I fucked you up the ass, Alex?  You were wondering about how you kneeled in front of me and sucked the cum from my cock?  Is that what you mean?"  I turned crimson, and I almost slammed down the phone.  "Are you wondering whether I'll fuck you again, Alex?  Is that what you were wondering?"

His words pierced me.  Just hearing the question made my cock balloon into full erection.  My throat went dry.  How did he know?  Did it matter?  He was right; that was exactly what I was wondering.  "Yes," I whispered, as if my voice had a mind of its own, just like my cock.

"What was that?  I didn't hear you."

"I said, `Yes.'" I repeated quietly.

"'Yes,' what, Alex?  Tell me."

"Yes, I was wondering if you'd fuck me again," I stammered.  I didn't understand why I was saying it.  I mean, it was true, but why was I telling him?  How was he pulling this information from me, almost as if he'd taken possession of my thoughts?  Was it the tone of his voice?  Was it the mesmerizing way he kept repeating my name?  I didn't know how, but he was definitely taking possession.  I hadn't been able to get off without thinking about him, and just hearing him again filled me with lust.  I was in a trance.

"Yeah, I might.  I might fuck your ass for you, if you really want me to.  But I think you're probably going to have to work for it."

"Work for it?"  I was startled and it shook me back to consciousness.  "Work for it how?"

"Well, we'll think of something once you get over here.  I think you should come now."

My cock surged.  "OK, I'll leave right now."

"Good boy.  Oh, and make sure you've made the arrangements to spend the night here."

"What?!"  I was definitely not prepared for that.

"Well, this is something you want, right?  After all, if you want my sweet cock up your ass, we want to be able to take our time, don't we?  To make sure it's good for you.  To make sure you're satisfied."

"There's a party at Russ Smith's tonight," I countered.  "I'm supposed to go."

"Well, you're not going.  But I bet that party will make a great excuse for you to be out all night tonight, won't it, Alex?"

"Yeah, I guess so," I gave in.  I was supposed to go to the party, and I had been looking forward to it.  Russ gave awesome parties with lots of hot girls who loved jocks.  I probably wouldn't score, but chances are I'd meet someone I could hook up with over next semester, since the deal with the cheerleader had ended at Thanksgiving.  But I wanted to try this ass fucking again, because I couldn't get it out my mind.  It would be worth missing the party for this.  He'd throw another one at New Year's, or if he didn't, one of my other friends would.

"Then get the fuck over here, bitch," he smirked, and hung up the phone.

I listened to the dial tone.  My cock raged, and when I reached down to adjust it, I could feel the wetness of precum that it had oozed.  I hung up the phone, scribbled a note to my parents that I'd be staying over at Russ's after the party, and hopped into my car.

Author's Note:  Without being overly effusive, I'd like to thank those who have emailed their constructive comments about this story.  I apologize to those to whom my reponses may have seemed terse, but I've been getting a lot more mail than I had anticipated and, rather than spend my allotted writing time with replies, I felt that continuing the story would probably be better appreciated by all.  I apologize also to anyone who feels cheated that there isn't more sex in this chapter; I assure you it's made up for in Chapter Four.  Publication of chapters after Chapter Four will be dictated by the time I have available and reader interest.  Thanks also to the Archivist, for his patience with my story, and to those who financially support the Archive in ways college students often cannot.  To the many who have asked:  this story is fiction - but the best fiction arises from embellishment of truth.