Author’s Note - The voices in my head are still sexually harassing me.
Efrain and Cory’s story doesn’t really have a plot-plot, as it was always episodic and character-driven to begin with, and the narrative point-of-view shifts to which ever character can most effectively tell the story at that moment. This is my first attempt at both erotica and extended fiction, and I more than welcome feedback. Thank you for reading. ~Dayne (firstname.lastname@example.org)
PS - I wouldn’t be able to post this, and you wouldn’t be reading it, without Nifty. Give some love where love is needed - http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html
Chapter Two – On Finger-Banging Cheerleaders
I’m not completely sure why we’re tabling for yet another week during the summer session. But, Kiley thinks she can keep the GSA active even though most of our members went home for the summer, and somehow I’m roped into this. I honestly doubt we’ll get any new members since so few students start here in the summer – anyone who wanted to join would have done so already. I’m seriously about to pack up here and lovingly tell that dyke Kiley that she can go fuck herself.
“Oh, cool, there’s a gay-straight alliance here!” The voice is a soft baritone with a slight Texas drawl. When I look up, I find its owner to be the mass accumulation of every brotastic dumb jock that made fun of me for being gay and/or being a cheerleader in high school. Tall, broad shouldered, so muscled up that it makes his t-shirt and cargo shorts fit snuggly in the most eye-pleasing ways. Overall, an amazing body and the face is just as nice. His sandy blonde hair is cut short on the sides with a longer tousled fringe on top that he keeps brushed to one side, under are dark blue eyes, a small mouth with perfectly bowed lips and dimpled cheeks.
His hand is out-stretched and his smile at least seems genuine. I figure Kiley will kick my ass if I don’t greet everyone properly, even if he does turn out to be a homophobe, so I might as well talk. “Name’s Cory,” he tells me.
“Preston,” I reply and seem at a loss, so I hand him a pamphlet.
“So,” he says after an awkward pause. “When do you guys meet?”
I consider giving him wrong information, but it’s printed on the pamphlet anyway. “Mondays at 7:00 PM.”
“Will you be there?” he asks warmly.
“I’m the secretary; of course, I’ll be…” I trail off as it occurs to me. Is this guy really..? You can’t be serious. I look back at him, his expression, the way he holds his body. “Wait, are you hitting on me?”
Preston and I fall through the door. We fumble with zippers and buttons, our tongues buried in each other’s mouth, all heavy breathing and roaming hands. We manage to pull off our shirts before we trip onto his bed, and he seems satisfied enough with this state to return to making out with me. I lie half on top of him, my leg pressed between his. He rolls his hips to rub his hard-on against my thigh. I grab his leg and guide it around my waist. He pants into my mouth as I rub myself against the leg I have trapped under me.
“We should finish stripping,” I tell him. “Or I’m going to cum in my pants.”
“Been that long?”
“Fuck. You have no idea.” He laughs at that. I’d like to say that I sealed the deal on him the day I met him – a classic twink looking cute as fuck in chino shorts, button up shirt, and bowtie with his short brown hair spiked up – but we became more like friends. Since he was the person who introduced me to the group, I naturally gravitated to him, but he’s a pretty nice guy and easy to talk to. I never thought I would end up befriending one of those sassy gay types.
The only reason we’re here ripping off clothes and humping each other’s leg is because someone gave us a few beers and we have stupidly low alcohol tolerances (For fucking real, how can three beers be enough to get a guy my size buzzed?). He started giggling about wanting to fuck a football player and I started giggling about wanting to fuck a cheerleader that had a dick. And he’s all like “Wait, you’re a football player!” And I was like “Dude, you’re a cheerleader AND you have a dick!”
Then we got bummed because we’re both bottoms.
“We could still blow each other.”
“Shit. I would suck the hell out of your dick.”
And so we dipped out of the party and hurried back to his place before one of us could regain the ability to really think this through. He takes too long getting the door open, so I pin him against it and lay one on him. His mouth is hot and tastes like cheap beer, which is actually pretty fucking arousing. Preston still tries to unlock his door and open it while my tongue clashes with his. I’m leaning into him with my whole body, so when he does get the door open, we go down.
Back on the bed, he’s pushing my shorts and trunks over my hips. I get them to my ankles and have to stop to take off my high tops before I can consider myself stripped. Preston wore flip flops today, which were kicked off the moment we regained our balance, so peeling off his clothes is easier. Pretty soon, we’re back to rolling around on the bed, just with significantly less clothing.
His hands are all over me, but I want my mouth to do my exploring. He’s used to picking up and tossing 120 pound girls and doing gymnastics, so his body is fucking amazing. I suck his neck, salty from the sweaty press of bodies in Kiley’s living room, and kiss a trail down his chest. I draw a hardened nipple into my mouth and lightly bite it, which makes him gasp and arch his back. Not content to stay, I lick sweat from the ridges in his abs, dip my tongue into his belly button, and continue south.
I position myself at a right angle to his body and put my head in his lap. I lower his cock to my mouth and lap the underside of his head. He wraps his fingers around my dick and lightly strokes it. I give him a little more attention with my lips and tongue. When he gets bolder with his hands, I put him further into my mouth as a reward.
Preston soon intuits what my game is and repositions himself so we’re both laying on our sides with our heads resting on the other’s thigh. I reward this by putting him as deep as I can get him. He’s smaller than me, a little bit longer than the width of my hand, so he easily bottoms out in my mouth.
He moans loudly around the mouthful he has taken so far and, as if by some unspoken cue, we start sucking each other off. I lift his leg, bending it up and wedging it under my arm. I push his leg a little and he extends it and lifts it higher until he’s in a full split. I pause to lift myself up on my elbow to appreciate the view, admiring how this move exposes his most vulnerable parts. I rub my hands over the insides of his thigh and pert ass. He likes to tan, so there’s a nice little line at his waist and below his ass. He stops sucking and I catch him watching me with a smug expression.
Preston would later tell me that it’s his signature move.
Not breaking eye contact, I lick my middle and index fingers, getting them as slicked up as I can. He probably knows where I’m going with this because he starts panting in anticipation before I can start rubbing his hole with my fingers. He pauses himself and I feel his fingers on me.
He folds his leg down and wraps it around my upper body, pulling me in to him. I put his dick back in my mouth and start bobbing on it again as I slowly push my middle finger inside. He whimpers and follows my lead. I whimper, too. When I slowly finger fuck him, he finger fucks me. He adds his index finger when I add mine. We find each other’s sensitive spots and build speed at the same time.
Preston is doing his best to make it hard for me to keep up what I’m doing. I persevere, his dick pinning down my moans in the back of my throat. At some point, he puts his foot on the back of my head (don’t ask me how, but he did) and shoves my face into his groin. In retaliation, I fuck his tight little hole with my fingers, finding his weaknesses and exploiting them – knowing that every bit of punishment I dish out will be paid in kind. We fuck each other’s mouth -- smooth, rolling thrusts at first, but that devolves into wild bucking the closer we get to climax.
He cums first, shooting his load deep into my mouth. I suck it up and eagerly swallow. Not a drop of my cum escapes when it’s my turn to nut. I slip free of him and roll onto my back, staring up at the ceiling fan spinning lazily above me as I catch my breath.
When I leave Preston’s a little while later, I text Keenan.
“Dude, we haven’t started college yet and I’ve already pulled a college cheerleader.”
“It was probably a dude,” he texts back.
“Doesn’t matter, man. Still a cheerleader.”
“Does matter, man. Still a queer.”
“Whatever. You can’t kill my spirit!”