This story is written jointly by Rhys and Jason Gruffydd. While we have written together numerous times, this is our first joint publishing attempt and our first story posted on Nifty. With few exceptions, Rhys is the voice of Lucas and Jason is the voice of Jamie.
If you'd like to comment on our work you can email us at email@example.com. Please put Goo Goo Muck in the subject of your letter so that we don't think its spam. If you'd like updates on future story posts and links to other works by us feel free to join our Yahoo Group at http://groups.yahoo.com/group/rgruffydd/.
We would like to thank Basil O'Shay for her tireless and encouraging efforts in editing this work.
Oh, this is just fucked up! I am convinced I am in Hell. When Mom and I stepped off the train in Jesup, it had just rained and the sidewalks were steaming. The weather was also hot, that sticky cloying hot that makes you sweat and you can't ever get dry. We took a cab to our new, but tiny apartment. Mom had been busy; it didn't take her long to find a job as a waitress at Loves Country Store. I think it's a truck stop out on the highway.
I was really bummed. School started in a week, and my gear was slow to be shipped down from North Carolina. That's not where I am from though. I am from Los Angeles, and being stuck in bum fucking Egypt for the remainder of my life sucks donkey balls. The apartment front office called and said the delivery truck was here so I went down there to tell them where to put our stuff. Mom had already walked down to the bus stop to catch a ride for work.
There's no storage, which sucks. We have one tiny closet that doesn't lock out on the porch so Mom got us a garage. Not like there's going to be a car in it any time soon. I could buy one but Mom won't let me get my license yet, she's too afraid that I will pack up my shit and head back to LA. She's right. I would.
I've got the corner bedroom facing the street and it's a quiet cul du sac so that's not too bad. I lugged in my boxes and spent a better part of the afternoon arranging my CD's. I don't really have any furniture, just a mattress and box springs that we bought when we got here. I set my clock radio up on a milk crate that I'd borrowed from Safeway down the street. I set my guitars on their stands and put my clothes up in the closet. I took all the boxes and cut them down and carried them back out to the garage. We had already moved twice in the last year, so I know not to throw the boxes away.
On my way back from the garage I saw this really tricked out IROC Z28 sitting there and I didn't remember seeing it before. The camaro was gun metal blue gray on gray and it was clearly a racing machine. I wondered who owned it, as it looked fast. I walked all the way around it, admiring it before returning to the apartment. Tomorrow I'll have to go over to the school and get registered for classes. The high school is about five blocks away. I can make that on my board in pretty good time.
I spent part of the evening cleaning my skateboard and getting my gear together. We don't have cable. Mom won't let me watch it anymore. I don't have a computer or Internet for the same reason. I hate being on house arrest.
I tried to set my alarm clock with a radio station but all they seem to have down here in Hell is county and western stations. My friend back in LA, Jerry, he had one that was a CD player and you could program it so that whatever CD was in it would wake you up. Maybe if I'd fucked him he would have given me one.
Mom's not going to be home until really late. I decided to take a shower and try to get dry but it's so fucking humid here. I finally turned on the overhead fans and opened the windows in a feeble attempt to get a breeze.
I'm horny as hell. Mom threw away all my porn stuff too. I am surprised she has not forced me to go to church but I think she knows better. I lay there on my bed stroking my cock wishing I was back in LA. I thought about Jerry for a little bit. He was older, maybe thirty something. He liked me though. He liked to kiss me and I liked that a lot. I thought about him and stroked my cock but Jerry doesn't really do it for me. He's cool and stuff. I just like him because he's nice to me and gives me stuff. Brad is really fucking cool and built like a football player. I think he was a football player for the Raiders or something. But, while he's all buff, he's a jerk. Every time he opens his mouth he pisses me off. But, that doesn't keep me from admiring his ass, and wondering what his dick would feel like in my mouth. I lay there for a while just stroking myself not really thinking of much.
I finally got up and went to the refrigerator. Mom threw out all my vibes and toys and I'd already figured out there were no good toy stores or adult shops around here in Hell, so I did the next best thing. I went shopping at Safeway. The problem with the South is that they have never heard of a small cucumber. I had to cut the thing way down or it would never fit.
I kept thinking to myself, Jesus, this is kinky Lucas. But, my ass was craving a bit of action, and I hadn't gotten laid since we left LA nearly a year ago. I took a few hits off my second to the last joint and felt the buzz settle in. I lay back on my bed and stroked myself this time with a little more intensity. I could hear music from somewhere. I listened for a little bit. Somebody up above me was playing the saxophone and really making it wail. The bluesy vibe got to me and I nodded my head in time with the imaginary beat. Whoever it was playing was really, really fucking good.
I wrapped my paired down cucumber up in a condom and found some coconut oil I could use for lube. I was high so the music seduced me and I shut my eyes and pretended that it caressed me. I ran my fingers over my chest and pinched my nipple and then pulled on the ring in the other one. A small shockwave of lust trickled down my belly and I could feel that sax in my spine. The throbbing tempo matched the pulsing of my cock, and I poured some oil on it and slid my fist up and down. I let my slick fingers drift lower and play with the rim of my asshole. I wondered if I could even take the cucumber, it had been that long. But, it felt so fucking good. I moaned right along with the saxophone. The cuke was cold but I didn't care. I just wanted to be fucked. I impaled myself on it and moaned again as the fullness stretched me. When I could breathe again, I started sliding it in and out. The saxophone player increased his tempo, almost like he or she was feeling my sense of urgency. I seriously needed to cum. The sax player was really letting fly and I did too. The cuke hit my prostate and I came so hard that a jet of my cream hit the alarm clock. I laid there for a bit until my breathing quieted then stripped the condom off the cuke and tossed the whole thing in the trash. My legs were jelly and it was the most relaxed I'd been in a while. I blew the saxophone player a kiss before rolling over and instantly falling asleep.
I wheeled into the parking lot as fast as I could; slamming the door of the Camaro before climbing the steps leading to my apartment. The sun was just starting to set and my sweat soaked uniform clung to my body trapping in the heat. I know it had to be about 98 degrees but when you factored in the humidity, it felt more like 198. Our bitch of a director, Dr. Peters insisted we practice in full marching uniform. She was new, fresh out of some fancy conservatory in Boston and had just landed her first teaching assignment... in Hell. She was absofuckinglutely clueless and as drum major I had to pick up for her slack. This was going to be a long season.
I hurried up the steps in anticipation of feeling the familiar arms of air-conditioning reaching out to greet me, cooling my exhausted body as I opened the door. I was disappointed; it was fucking hot as shit inside as the air was on the fritz again. The dammed air conditioner seemed busted more often than not. I threw open the window by the balcony as Scott burst out of his room. He was pissed, and I could see the veins bulging out around his eyes as he started screaming about some punk ass motherfucker on a skateboard who flipped him off and nearly ran him down in the parking lot. We had new neighbors. They must have moved in while I was at practice.
Great... the bitch, busted AC, ranting roommates and pissy neighbors; it was more than I could take at the moment and I sought solace in the quiet of the bathroom. Peeling out of my uniform I climbed into the shower and let the cold water wash away the heat-induced stress of the day. Maybe one day I could afford an apartment with a tub big enough to soak in, but there was no way my 6'1" frame was fitting in this. Sometimes I thought of it as more of a sink than a tub.
Leaving my hair wet, I pulled on a pair of silk boxers, as it was too hot to wear anything more. I picked up my saxophone and took it out onto the balcony overlooking the street. I hadn't taken it to practice with me; drum majors didn't get to play much during marching season. Wetting the reed, I slipped it into place and began to blow. I didn't have any particular song in mind, so I began to play aimlessly, letting my emotions dictate the notes. I began to wail out my own tune, playing with everything I had. Music was my passion; my escape from reality, my closest friend and it comforted me as I bellowed out the notes. Allowing my music tell the world all about the heat, my fucked up family, the shitty air-conditioning, and my pissy roommates, things began to seem better towards the end and my tempo changed, quickening as I felt a ray of hope that music brought me. Music reminded me that it was a new year, MY year. A year I was going to make the most of come hell or high water. I ended my song with a long resounding high note, a symbol of my determination and resolve.
The music must have been good, because an older lady in the balcony whistled and
clapped her hands as I placed my sax back in its case. I saw my reflection in
the mirror and blushed slightly wondering if she enjoyed the music or the
I got up, and slapped the alarm around. I hate the beeping but it was a hell of a lot better than that country and western shit. I dragged myself out of bed to take a shower. I got out and tried again to dry off to no avail. I used three times as much deodorant, and some of Mom's cornstarch and that seemed to help. I found some clean boxers and pulled them on. I managed also to find a clean shirt and a baggy pair of shorts.
I went to the refrigerator and found the OJ. Mom was out cold on the rent-a-couch. The TV was still on with the sound turned way down. I went over and turned it off. I made her some coffee in the microwave. I found the skillet and bacon, and began frying some up. I made toast too. There was lettuce and tomato, so I made myself a sandwich and stuck it in a plastic bag for later. Mom woke up and kissed me for making her coffee. I set it on the rent-a-coffee table for her.
Mom doesn't talk a lot in the mornings. She's a night person like me, so dawn can be a painful even around our house. I sat down on the floor in front of the coffee table `cause we don't have a dinner table. I ate a couple of strips of bacon, some toast, and a piece of cheese I found in the `fridge. I left the rest for her. I told her I was going to go get registered for school and she nodded blearily at me. I figured she would be asleep in five minutes after I left. I got my board, helmet and pads from my room and tucked my ID and birth certificate in my wallet. I shoved my cigs and lighter into my front pocket and located my keys. I kissed Mom on the cheek and left.
I took off on my board and took a short cut through the breezeway to the gate. Some asshole tried to play tag with me and I just zoomed around him and flipped him off. I don't have a whole lot of patience with dicks that think they are funny. By the time I got to school, sweat was running down my back. I knew my hair was going to be wet under my helmet but it couldn't be helped. I really needed to find my sunglasses. I was squinting too much already. Somebody was mowing the grass in front of the school and I sneezed. All this fresh air was a killer for my allergies. I would take smog any day. I was used to it. The front doors were locked but there was a sign up that said Schedules and an arrow, so I followed it around the building. There were lots of kids on the giant staircase leading up into the building. There were heavy handrails going right down the center of it, and the staircase itself gave me an idea. The rails were just about the right height and angle, and I wondered if I could have a little fun some night when no one was around. That was something else I had already learned about the South. There were no skate parks to speak of, and everyone got pissed when you used the sidewalk to ride your board. Tough shit. I was an amateur champion and I'll be damned if I have to stop riding for two years. Up in North Carolina, I got used to riding in an abandoned drainage ditch. The sides sloped too much for me to get any real air. I hoped I would find a suitable substitute, and soon.
I trudged up the stairs and waited in line. They were holding registration in the cafeteria. This school must be really small. However, they thought they were big. There was a guy there with a bullhorn directing traffic. My school in Los Angeles held four thousand kids. I didn't know how many students Union West had, but the home of the Tigers seemed pretty damned small to me. When I got to the registration table I was in for a shock. They didn't have a computer registration. They let me register for classes but I would have to get my Mom to write my old school in North Carolina for my transcript. I couldn't believe it. What schools don't have computers these days? Unfuckingbelievable. So, I ended up in standard classes for juniors. I argued with them about putting me in Algebra. I already had Algebra and should have been in Calculus.
The lady at registration said, "Without a signed and notarized transcript, we can only put you in regular classes. Have your parents contact the other school and have them send us all the appropriate paperwork."
I was fucking pissed. I tried to talk to one of the guidance councilor types but got the same story. He was even a little condescending; nodding his head and giving me a little patronizing smile the entire time. I was honest with him. I told him I was from Los Angeles, and had upper level courses there.
He just smiled at me and said, "Well, it's been our experience that students transferring from other schools are really not as prepared as they might expect. If you do well in Algebra, we will consider moving you into Calculus."
I stood there with my mouth open. What the fuck did this guy think I was? A liar? Who the fuck in their right mind would want to take Calculus anyway? I point blank asked him how many kids had come to him and asked to be transferred to an upper division course from a lower. He just looked at me. "That's what I thought!" I snapped and stalked off to get my ID picture made.
My helmet was going to make my hair look like shit but I didn't really give a fuck at that moment. The blonde girl with the shitty looking bow in her hair at the picture desk just stared at me like I'd lit a cigarette in the hallway and had it stuck in my mouth. I had pulled off my helmet and raked my fingers through my sandy blond hair. Sweat made it darker, but I didn't care at the moment. I'd hunted high and low for a stylist in North Carolina that could keep up the cut I'd had in LA. To me, it was a typical skate punk haircut, but to everyone else, I might as well have dyed it blue or something. The stylist had cut it high in the back, and shaved it up my neck so that my helmet wouldn't rub. She'd angled it in basically all one length but chopped it off so that it was level with my cheekbones. My hair wanted to curl a little bit at the ends, so it always looked like I was trying to wear it around my face. I liked the look. I thought it was sleek and sexy. I used to model a bit out in LA and at six foot tall; I could have done runway or any number of skate park print stuff. I sighed. She was still staring at me like I had grown three heads or something.
"Excuse me, but Elvis left the building. Could you make my picture now?" I didn't mean to be rude to her, but fuck, I was getting tired of standing around.
She flushed and mumbled "Yeah sure." She got the picture, and then asked, "What's your name?"
I twitched a bit. She had a zit on her nose. Yeah, I know, real fucking shallow of me to notice too. She would have been a runner up in the ugly sister category for sure though.
She nodded and said "Well, Lucas Monroe, you can pick this up tomorrow at the office."
I nodded, picked up my board and helmet, and tossed a quick "Thanks" over my shoulder before I left.
The sun was beating down when I left and I was thirsty. I wanted a smoke but I was running low. I hoped Mom would cave in and buy me a carton. I found the nearest Shit-N-Git and stopped in to get a bottle of water. This place was far too close to the school for me to ask the guy behind the counter for a pack of smokes. I had a feeling I would get ID'd really fast. So, I just bought some Gatorade and a bottle of water. I had twenty bucks left and I really didn't want to hit my savings yet.
I slugged down the bottle of water and took off. I wanted to find the library. They might have an Internet connection and I could email my friends back home. Maybe, if I promised Jerry some pictures, he'd send me one of the CD player clock radios. I still had my digital camera. Jerry would get a kick out my cucumber attack I was pretty sure.
I found the library and managed to get a couple of books, just science fiction. The library was small and there was no Internet. This place was so ancient that they still used card files. Many of the books I'd already read so I gave up in disgust and went home. I didn't realize I was crying until I got there. I was so homesick; I wanted to throw up. I threw myself on my bed and stared at the ceiling. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! I want to go home! I want to go home!
I crawled out of bed sometime after 9. I hadn't set the alarm, as there was no use getting up early yet; I had all day to pick up my schedule. No way was I getting up at 6 until school started. I'm not a morning person. The a/c still wasn't working and it was already hot so I took my breakfast out on the balcony. "Frosted flakes... there're GRRRRRRRRRATE," I said aloud for my own amusement before slurping up the last of the milk and heading back in the house. I tossed on some clothes, shorts, a t-shirt and a pair of flops. At least I could be casual today.
It was just after 11 when I carefully parked my Camaro in the student lot. I'm not sure why they called it a lot, it wasn't really paved it was more like a grassy field with large potholes and handfuls of gravel strewn about for good measure. We'd tried complaining to the school board about the pot holes and they told us to consider them "speed bumps" so every year we endured and had great fun laughing at the sophomores and new drivers who almost always got stuck. Crossing the field, I made my way to the cafeteria where they were handing out schedules. The procedure was the same this year as it was every year... Find the table for your last name... get in line... wait in line... whatever. They always made such a production out of what should have been a simple process. We hardly had enough students to form a line much less to have Dr. Potts herding us like cattle through the process with his mini-bullhorn. I walked up to my table and groaned inwardly. The new band bitch was there; they'd somehow roped her into handing out schedules and she made a point to look over mine before handing it to me.
"You're not taking my advanced jazz appreciation course?" She said with a snide tone.
"No, I need a computer applications course for college," I told her as I tried to take my schedule from her hands.
"Wait just a minute Jamie!" She said sharply. "Official policy says I have to see your student ID before I can hand this to you."
"What?" I gave her an incredulous look "I've not had my ID since my freshman year, we never use those things."
"Policy is policy," she said in her classic bitchy tone, "Unless you're a new student, No ID means No Schedule. So if you've lost yours you'll just have to pay for a new one," She said, her final words on the subject as she put my schedule back in her file folder and pointed to over to the media center where the librarian always made the IDs for the freshmen and new students.
What a waste of a fucking day, I thought as I walked into the media center. Ms. Boatright was there as always, snapping photos and gossiping away. I had to sit there and listen to her go on and on about some punk rocker type that came in earlier. According to her, he was so stoned out of his mind he thought she was Elvis. Of course like always, she'd just politely asked his name and snapped his photo. She hadn't the heart to correct him, and she was just flattered to death he thought she was famous.
Jesus Fucking Christ! I thought to myself, if anyone was stoned it had to be her, but at least she forgot to charge me for reissuing my ID. The day was a total waste, and I had to saunter around the building aimlessly while I waited for the stupid thing to print. I took a few moments to find my locker, not that I'd use it. As always, they gave me one on the opposite end of the building from most of my classes.
What an incredible waste of my time! I was there until 2 o'clock before I was finally able to pick up my shit from the band bitch and get out of there. The year was getting off to a great start.
We didn't have many nights left before school started back so we decided to make the most of it. We did the only interesting thing there was to do in Jesup, polish off the rest of our stockpile of Bud Light and sit around playing Xbox games. Scott and Chris had a bit of an earlier start than I. I'd been stuck attending the first band boosters meeting of the season trying to do my part to drum up support from the parents. As I walked in the door, Chris gave me a shot of tequila so that I could catch up to the buzz level he and Scott already had going. I had barely swallowed it when he popped open a can of Bud Light and placed it in my hands. They encouraged me to chug the beer as fast as I could, and I humored them by chugging the first one. I tried to ignore the fact that I thought it tasted like piss. They were trying to get me drunk, hoping that I'd end-up as the evening entertainment. I do funny shit when I'm drunk. I don't remember much of it but last time I got drunk, they swear up and down I sat facing the opposite direction from the TV holding the Xbox controller in my hands and bitched half the night because I couldn't make the field goal on the NFL game we were playing.
I wasn't trying to get that drunk tonight though, I had practice tomorrow and marching with a hangover sucks ass. I chugged a couple beers, just enough to get a good buzz going on and then slipped out on the balcony with my sax. I liked sitting out here at night. The air was cool and calm and when it wasn't cloudy you can lean back in one of the lounge chairs up there and gaze into the stars forever. I felt there was something comfortable about playing out there; just me and the music, no pressure from anyone else. The stars were a patient audience. I stood next to the railing as I opened my case I leaned over to pick up the sax when I felt my wallet slip out of my pocket.
"FUCKING SHORTS!" I thought, annoyed. My wallet bumped against the wooden deck of the balcony before slipping through a slot in the railing and plummeting to the ground below. I was going to have to hunt for it. The dammed thing probably landed near the bushes below I thought, as I raced down the steps hoping to find my wallet before someone else did. I hadn't thought to bring a flashlight and even if I did the chance of the batteries working was slim to none, so I was left to crawl along the edge of the complex feeling for my wallet with only the dim light from the street lamps in the parking lot. I concentrated my search in the area just under my balcony. I was right underneath the window of one of the bedrooms the new people, when I heard a noise. I'd not met them yet and so I tried to keep quiet, staying as low as I could I sat with my back against the wall of complex. I didn't want them to think I was spying on them or worse yet have our first experience as neighbors to be them calling the cops to report me as some sort of prowler.
I felt around beside me as I sat there, and by some sheer stroke of luck, I found my wallet. I crawled over to it, quickly slipping it into my pocket as I braced against the side of the complex while I tried to stand up. I heard a moaning sort of noise and I turned around noticing the window to the downstairs apartment wasn't closed at all. In fact, it was wide open; their A/C must have been out too, I thought as I found myself drawn to peer in the open window. To my shock and fascination, there was a guy masturbating! I couldn't see his face but he appeared to be about my age. Something told me I shouldn't be watching this, yet I couldn't take my eyes off of him either.
My dick began to stir, straining the elastic of my shorts as I watched the guy open a bottle of oil and begin to pour it over his body. I could smell the scent of coconut as I watched the unknown guy begin to rub the oil into his skin, slowly progressing down his torso before grasping his slick cock and beginning to jack it up and down. There was something about him, something about the way his thin body looked in the glow of the candle, the only light he had in the room that made me unable to look away. I watched in awe as he played with his cock, running his fingers around the head and whimpering slightly each time he rubbed the tip of a finger through his slit.
He moaned and whimpered loudly as he teased himself. He shifted position and I gasped as I saw what looked to be a silver loop in his navel. He had a belly ring! Just thinking about it made my cock twitch. I crept closer to the window, crouching down so I couldn't be seen, but I couldn't stop watching him. There was something about him that captivated me. I wanted to lick him, to flick my tongue against that belly ring of his and hear him moan. I wanted to put my hands on his cock and feel it. I wondered what he'd taste like, and what he'd do if I wrapped my tongue around the head of his cock.
What the fuck was I thinking? A guy was turning me on! What the hell was wrong with me? I'd started to snap out of it and walk away when I heard his bed creak, drawing my attention back to the window. He came up on his knees, spreading his ass apart with one hand while he squeezed some sort of lube into it with the other. He set the lube on a crate by the bed and then he laid back. He brought his knees to his chest as he began to finger himself, whimpering loudly as he began to thrust his fingers in and out of his ass. I couldn't believe what I was seeing! His window was open for fucks sake, but the more he did, the more I felt compelled to watch.
I was consumed by him, the sounds of his moaning, the way his gold nipple ring looked against his tan skin, the way his oil slick cock glistened in the candle light; everything about him made me curious. I was mesmerized by the way his whole body seemed to crave pleasure and the open way in which he seemed to give in to his needs. His pace began to quicken and he removed his fingers, replacing them with something else, I couldn't tell quite what it was. Maybe a vibe, I thought, but he lubed it up and began to thrust it in and out of his ass. He whimpered louder and louder as he rose up on his knees and fucked himself with one hand and stroked his dick with the other. He got louder still letting out little moans and cries. "Yeah...ohh yeah fuck... yeah," he said over and over again. Rolling over onto his back once more, he bent his legs at the knees and spread them wide as he began to thrust harder.
I could hear his fist slapping up against his ass each time he thrust the object deeper inside. I could see the muscles in his arms tighten as his body quivered, and his toes began to curl. He had the most amazing feet. There was something about the way his toes curled that just made me want to kiss them. I continued watching as his climax built, and he thrust harder and harder, his whole body now racing to get off as his bed creaked loudly. I heard him gasp and his breathing almost stop as his whole body tensed one last time before his cock erupted into ribbons of white cum, splattering all over his fist and his chest as he lay there whimpering and fucking himself until every last drop of cream had been emptied from his balls.
I heard a car door slam and I suddenly remembered where I was and what I was doing. I jumped to my feet and hurriedly made for the steps, wondering who the hell he was and why I enjoyed watching him so much. Scott and Chris were still playing Xbox when I came back in but I didn't join them. I had too much on my mind and too large a wet spot on my shorts. They hardly noticed as I walked in and went past them right into my room, locking the door behind me.
I stripped out of my shirt and shorts and lay on the bed next to the window. I imagined I could still hear the stranger. I could still see him, his image burned into my retinas. He was no longer in his bed down stairs; he was in my room, touching me. My body craved his touch and I whimpered at the thought. Waves of electricity ran through my body as I imagined his lips kissing my nipples and his tongue lightly tracing down my chest and grazing my navel. My cock twitched as I imagined what his face would look like, and how his lips would feel around the head of my dick. I wanted to put my hands on the back of his head and guide him farther down on my cock. I wanted to hear the sounds of his whimpers muffled by the thickness of my dick. I wanted to look down and see his eyes looking up at me and watching as he drove me wild.
I began to jack off wondering how it'd feel if he slowly slid a finger in my ass. Would it hurt? It didn't look like it hurt him. I wanted to feel my legs wrapped around him letting our cocks rub together as he explored my body. I wanted to rub all over every last inch of him coating him with my cream. My pace increased as I thought about the muscle definition in his arms, and what it might be like to lick at his nipples and tug gently on his nipple ring. I pinched my nipple thinking about it. It felt so fucking good I had to bite my pillow to keep from screaming and attracting the attention of my roommates. Every nerve in my body was so over-sensitized. Watching the stranger had ignited some sort of fire in the pit of my stomach and suddenly now all I could think about was being with him, and how good he would feel. I didn't even know what he looked like and yet I imagined I could see his face smiling as he thrust his fingers into me and began to jack me off, thrusting harder and harder. I matched the strokes with my hand to the strokes I saw in my mind, locking eyes with the stranger as he leaned over kissing my nipple, biting on it gently before giving my cock one final rub.
Suddenly my whole body was tense, my balls seemed to draw up tighter than they ever had, and my toes curled just like the stranger's, as I gasped releasing a river of cum all over my chest.
I woke up about seven and took a shower. I thought about eating the sandwich I'd made earlier in the day but...I just wasn't hungry. Mom left me a note that said she was working a double shift and she wouldn't be home until late. I scribbled a note on her note telling her that I needed her to call my old school and get my transcript else I would be unable to take Calculus. I didn't tell her I thought my new school was run by a bunch of self-important pricks. I did tell her I was nearly out of smokes; that wasn't entirely true but I've learned to hold something back just in case.
I spent about an hour playing my guitar, just goofing off. I played along with Dirty Vegas, The White Stripes and my favorite band, The Cramps. I always played by ear. Mom couldn't afford lessons for me. I'd learned basic chord progressions from the Internet. Playing made me feel a little better, but I was still depressed. I thought North Carolina was bad, but this was worse. My day's investigations led me to determine that there were no bookstores or music stores of merit in this town. Wal-Mart was the total of existence, and they sucked musically.
When it got dark, my mysterious sax player started in again. I couldn't tell if he was right above me or a couple buildings over. The notes seemed to dance and reverberate on the wind so it was really hard for me to tell. I played along with him for a bit, just trying to follow his lead, nothing special. I gave up. I am just not that good of a player.
I'd smoked another couple of hits off my second to the last joint and I felt a little better. I stretched and lay on my bed. I didn't have sheets or anything, just my bedroll from camping when I was a kid. I left it unzipped because it was so fucking hot. I pushed the window open a little wider and got up to get another cucumber. I don't know why but the combination of pot and jazz made me hornier than hell.
I made fast work on it, cutting it down so that I could take it. I trotted back to my bed and lay there listening. I was buzzing, feeling really good, and the sax player abruptly stopped. I waited but he or she didn't start again. I didn't want to lose my buzz so I kicked on my stereo and listened to something mellow while I stroked myself.
I don't know why I always fantasize about guys. I'd slept with a couple of girls, but for whatever reason, the orgasm with a guy was that much more intense. I lay there dreaming about sucking Jerry off while Brad fucked the hell out of me. I poured tanning oil all over my cock and stroked myself. I shuddered, wanting to crawl into Brad's lap and impale myself on his thick cock. I got up on my knees and imagined sliding down on him.
I positioned myself and pushed the cuke all the way into my ass in one stroke. The pain and pleasure was so intense that I hissed. Oh fuck yeah that felt so fucking good! My ass was tight and I had to really relax to get it in. After the initial pain I was more than ready. My knees got too weak to maintain my position so I fell back onto my back and pretended that I was sucking Jerry's cock. Actually, I'd never even seen Jerry's cock but other guys had told me he was well endowed. I didn't care. I wanted to suck him off and have Brad fuck me hard. I whimpered, loud. I didn't care. I just wanted this so fucking badly that I didn't care who the hell heard me.
If I shut my eyes and concentrated I could feel Brad's ghostly lips on my skin, teasing my nipple. He'd lick my ring and pull on it with his teeth. He'd suck at my throat, turning into a vampire and leaving hickeys on my collarbone. He'd kiss me until my lips were swollen and red. He'd fuck me hard, driving my knees into my chest and making me writhe on that thick pole of his. Oh fuck, I wanted this! I wanted this so dammed bad I was almost crying. Oh fuck; I wanted this so fucking badly! I was pleading in my head to my imaginary Brad to make me cum. Oh fuck yeah, make me cum...make me cum. I need to cum so fucking badly. I was gasping for breath and I could feel it rushing through me and I came hard, spattering my chest and even getting it in my hair. I rolled over on my side away from the window and tried to breathe. I was shaking. For the second time in as many days I began to cry, burying my head in my arms and shivering. I needed, oh god, I would give anything just to be held, and I snuffled into my pillow, aching for someone to be beside me.
I faintly heard a car door slam somewhere. Then I heard it-just a faint crunch of gravel outside my window. Was someone watching me? I rolled over and looked out the window but I didn't see anyone. Maybe I just imagined it. I took out the cucumber and tossed the whole thing in the trash. Then, I collapsed, exhausted.