by Greg Scott
All the usual stuff about you must be old enough in your jurisdiction, etc. In other words, if you are underage, don't read this unless you have a really cool teacher who assigned it. Otherwise, come back in a few years, when nobody will yell at you.
For my regular readers, I want to point out that this story is not part of The Lavender Line series.
What I had been waiting for was finally about to happen. My best friend, Lee, was going to be spending the night at my house. In the morning we would go to Six Flags for a day of roller coaster rides, junk food and all around fun. It would be my first ever sleepover.
Now, I know what you're thinking. Every little kid gets excited at the prospect of having a friend spend the night for the first time. I'm sure that's true, but I'm definitely not a little kid. In fact, I'm seventeen years old and a junior in high school.
What had delayed this event well beyond the time when most of my friends were spending nights at each others' houses was my dad. My dad is the strictest father I know. I'm sure every teenager thinks their parents are too restrictive, but it was especially true in my case. Well, not my mom so much but definitely my father.
Dad controlled everything in our house. He decided what my mother would cook for dinner. He decided what we would watch on television. He even decided what after-school organizations I would join.
If I ever challenged his authority over me, something I pretty much stopped doing entirely by the time I was about twelve, he would take out the fraternity paddle that he had kept since college and beat me with it until my butt was actually bruised a deep purple color.
A few times, my mother would take my side. She would pay the price for what my dad interpreted to be her insolence. He didn't use the paddle on her. Instead, he would stomp through the house breaking anything that he knew she loved.
He smashed a figurine that my mom had inherited from her grandmother when my mother said that I shouldn't have to join the sixth grade football team if I didn't want to. Another time he broke every one of her CDs when she said that she couldn't see any harm in me spending the night at Lee's house along with two other friends of mine.
I don't know why my mother put up with his abuse, but she did. I used to pray that she would divorce him or that the cops would come to our house and take him away. Then I remembered that I didn't believe in any god, so there wasn't really much point in my praying.
It was about the time of that realization that I just stopped complaining. I obeyed any rule that he made, no matter how stupid it seemed to me. I stopped asking my mother for permission to do anything, because I was afraid that her response might just get her into trouble with my father.
I think that it was our complete acceptance of his authority that eventually saved us. I believe he grew bored so he went out looking for other things he could control.
What he found was another woman. This past summer he moved out of the house to go live with her. He managed to beat my mother one last time and destroy the remaining things she cared about after she protested his departure. Despite the tantrum he threw, I was as happy as I had ever been watching him carrying out his clothing.
My mother gradually began to suspend his lingering rules. It was as if she slowly became aware that she was free to make her own decisions for the first time in almost twenty years. As she began to live this fresh liberation, I saw her mood change from fear and lonleiness to a sense of freedom and hope.
My sense of relief had come more quickly. I felt it as soon as my dad's car pulled away from our driveway.
Lee followed me home from school in his car and parked in the driveway immediately behind mine. I was allowed to have my own car, now, so I wanted to drive it that Friday even though it would have made more sense for me to just have Lee stop by to pick me up.
One of the reasons that my dad had been so strict with me was that he sensed, even before I did, that I didn't really have any interest in girls. No, I liked boys, and he could see that somehow, even though nobody else could.
There was nothing my father hated more than "fags," as he called them; as he called us, I guess. I think that was why I was supposed to be on the football team, although once he saw how poorly I played, he was willing for me to convert to wrestling by the time I reached high school. I also think that is the reason I could never stay over at any friend's house. In fact he told me as much on more than one occasion.
I don't know if he ever shared his hunch with my mom. If he did, it must not have scared her as much as it did him.
Mom cooked fried chicken for dinner for Lee and me, because she knew that was Lee's favorite meal. After we ate, we went up to my room where I was now allowed to keep my computer and have my own television.
After about an hour of playing video games, my mother brought up two pieces of fresh cherry pie for our dessert. Lee and I decided to watch some television movie. It wasn't that good, and we talked more than we watched.
I had a plan for Lee. I wanted to get him involved in a little wrestling match. We never got to wrestle each other in practice, because Lee was taller and just bigger in general. So he was three weight classes above mine, and the coach never matched up two guys that far apart.
To be honest, though, I had wanted to wrestle Lee for as long as I had been on the team. I didn't try to kid myself about beating him. I just wanted to be close to him physically, to be able to touch him and maybe have him prone across me so that I could feel his weight on top of me.
About half way through the movie, I tried to implement my plan, but he wouldn't go for the idea. He explained that we wouldn't be a good match because of our size difference. He didn't seem to know that my plan had nothing to do with actually getting in a good practice session.
Since we wanted to get an early start to the amusement park, we decided to go to bed after the movie ended. We each stripped to our underwear, a condition we had seen each other many times in the locker room, climbed into our respective beds, and I turned out the light on the stand between us.
I was thrilled to be able to listen to my friend's breathing so close to me. I know it wouldn't seem like a big deal to most guys my age, but it was something that I had looked forward to for so long.
I could tell that Lee wasn't sleeping yet. I wasn't really at all sleepy. The only reason that we were in bed this early on a Friday night was so that we could get up early and make the most of our day at Six Flags.
"Are you sleepy," I asked.
"No," he replied. "Want to talk?"
"Sure. What do you want to talk about?" I asked.
"I don't care. Anything," Lee responded.
We were quiet in the darkness for a while. It's hard to come up with something to talk about when that's what you're thinking about. Besides, since the movie hadn't really maintained our interest, we had pretty much already brought each other up to date on any news in our lives.
"I got something," Lee finally said.
"Okay, go ahead."
"It might be kind of embarrassing," Lee said in a way that was almost a question.
"That's okay," I said. "We're the only ones here."
"How often do you jack off?" Lee whispered the question.
I was caught off guard. A few times during our friendship, Lee had tried to talk about sex. Really what he had talked about were things like what girl he would like to fuck and which girls had the best breasts. Since I didn't join in the conversation, Lee eventually stopped bringing up the topic.
"What makes you think I jack off?" I replied with my own question, trying to figure out if I could trust him with the truth, even though I knew that I could.
"You're a guy," Lee pointed out the obvious. "All guys jack off, even old guys, but especially teen guys."
"Do you really think old guys jack off?" I asked, finding it hard to believe that my dad had ever done something like that.
"Just answer the question," Lee said, frustrated by my delay.
"Almost every day," I said, purposefully understating the truth. "What about you? How often do you jack off?"
"Every day, at least twice. Sometimes I do it three times a day," Lee confessed.
"No kidding?" I said. "Me, too. I can't remember the last day I didn't."
The topic of our conversation was already making my dick stir in my underwear.
"Have you done it today?" Lee asked.
"Yeah, this morning when I woke up, before I got out of bed," I said.
"I did it this morning in the shower. I can't do it in the bed when I first wake up because my brother's there," he explained.
Lee has a brother who is a senior. He's just as hot to look at as Lee is. I've actually thought about both of them during my jack off sessions.
"Are you hard now?" Lee asked.
"Yeah, I am."
"Me, too" said Lee. "Do you want to jack off now?"
I couldn't believe this was happening. This was almost as good as my wrestling idea that had failed.
"I guess...if you want to," I said, trying to sound much more reluctant than I really felt.
"I'm going to take off my underwear," Lee told me.
I could hear him throw back the covers. I strained to watch the movement. I couldn't make out the details, but my imagination filled in the blanks as he dropped his briefs onto the floor.
I imitated his actions, removing and discarding my own boxers in the space between us.
I could barely see that he had already begun his stroking movements, and I wished I could see better. If only the night had a full moon and no clouds.
I grasped my own cock, which felt harder and maybe even a little larger than it had ever felt before. I began my familiar up and down movements, and I felt a bit of precum form on my tip. I concentrated my visual and mental attention on what was happening in the bed about four feet away. I wished that I could see better.
"I'm watching you," Lee said to my surprise.
"I'm watching you, too," I said.
"I can't see you very well," he said. "Would it be okay if I came over there?"
"Yeah," I whispered, but it sort of caught in my throat, so I tried again. "Yes, absolutely."
I watched as Lee came toward me. I moved over so that he would have a place awaiting him in my bed.
He filled the vacant space. I felt his left shoulder contact my right one. I felt his hip against mine. I felt his thigh firmly press my own. A surge like electricity swept through my entire body.
I could now see his cock better if not perfectly. Of course, I had seen it many times before in the locker room showers. This, though, was the first time that I had ever seen his erect cock or any hard cock that was not in porn. I was so mesmerized by the sight that I actually stopped my strokes for a while.
I finally broke my stare and looked into his face. I could tell that he was staring at my dick. He must have felt me looking at him, because he looked into my face, although I really couldn't see his deep blue eyes very well.
"Is it okay if I turn on the light?" Lee asked.
"Yes, please," I said, maybe a bit too enthusiastically.
As he twisted the switch knob, the light blinded me for a moment, but then my eyes adjusted. I was still looking at his face, and his eyes looked more beautiful to me than they ever had before. Of course, I had never seen them this close.
He was staring at my cock and my hand that was wrapped around it. I had resumed my movement. I lowered my gaze to watch as he caressed his own.
"Did you cum?" he asked.
"No," I said, surprised and confused by his question.
"Then, what's that on top of your cock?"
"Oh," I said, noticing that he didn't produce precum. "It's called precum. It's like a lubricant. Some guys make it; some guys don't."
"Oh, yeah," Lee said. "I've read about that."
He suddenly sat up in bed to examine my sticky fluid more closely.
"You can touch it if you want," I offered. "It feels different from cum."
I wondered if I had gone too far with my offer or my admission that I knew what both precum and cum felt like. Apparently I had nothing to worry about, because Lee reached out with his index finger. He touched the tip of my cock, gathering the substance. He showed no hesitation at all, and I wondered how much more experienced he might be at this sort of thing.
Lee rubbed his finger against his thumb to get a sense of the texture of the precum. He pulled apart his two digits and seemed fascinated by the little thread that developed between them.
"Does it taste like cum?" he asked, as I wondered if he realized how much he had revealed with his question.
"It's sweeter than cum. You can try it if you want."
Apparently he did want to, because he touched my cock head again, gathering as much as he could, then he brought his finger to his mouth.
"It's kind of good," he reported.
He returned to his previous prone position. Instead of resuming his masturbation, though, he reached for my cock with his left hand. He wrapped his fingers around me and squeezed gently. Shortly after that, he began the familiar up and down movement.
It felt strange to have someone else's hand performing the act that I knew so well. His grip was different from mine, as was his pacing. His hand, which was somewhat bigger than mine, covered a greater proportion of my shaft, although he still had plenty of room for his strokes.
I wanted to take his cock into my hand, but I decided to concentrate just a while longer on the act that he was performing for me. Here was this ladies man, this dear friend after whom I had lusted for several years, jacking me off. I wanted to process that fact for a moment. I shivered as it sunk fully into my mind.
At last I grasped his dick. I could immediately tell that his circumference was greater than mine. As I moved my hand upward toward the head, Lee moaned. The motion let me know that his cock was a bit shorter than mine, although I didn't care one way or the other. What was important to me was that this was my friend's dick. I wouldn't have cared if it was huge or tiny, which it was neither. I only cared that it was Lee's.
"Have you ever done this with anyone before?" Lee asked.
"No, never," I replied. "Have you?"
"Yes," he replied. "A couple guys."
"Who?" I asked, hoping to add to my masturbation fantasy list.
"I can't tell you that."
"I guess not," I admitted.
"But I'm you're first?" he asked again.
"Yes," I said. "But I've wanted to do something with you for a long time. I've jacked off a lot thinking about it."
As soon as I finished that sentence, he started to squirm and shoot his semen onto his chin and chest. I stroked harder and faster as I watched his excitement and the projection of the liquid I had longed to see for so long.
Once his ejaculation had completely stopped, I ended my stroking of his wonderful cock. I looked at his face to see that he was smiling broadly.
"That was the best ever," he said enthusiastically, well above the whisper that we had been using.
"I'm glad," I said in an understatement of my genuinely enthusiastic reaction to his words.
He had stopped jacking my cock, so I took over. I was so close to cumming that I knew it wouldn't take long.
He sat in the bed, again, and watched my work intently. Then he bent over as I was stroking and licked my tip. I felt the surge rising inside me.
My mind had already begun its climax. I closed my eyes as I continued my feverish strokes and he continued his greedy licks. Just as I realized that the cum was going to gush on the next stroke, I felt Lee's warm mouth envelop my cock. His lips pushed away my hand, and he began to suck.
I exploded with a force that I didn't know I could produce. I opened my eyes so that I could watch my dick launch my seed into Lee's eager mouth.
Once I had come down a bit from my extreme high, I thought to myself that my dad had been right about a sleepover allowing for homosexual activities.
I thought to myself that if I ever had a chance, I was going to tell my dad in the greatest detail possible about my first blow job in the house that he had paid for. Then I would say, "Take that, you bastard!"
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