It's funny how frustrated I got about how little time I had to fuck James.
How stressed I was that the condom was too small. How impatient I became after a minute of fumbling slippery latex before running downstairs to grab my own I'd stupidly left in the back pocket of my jeans.
As I bit open the second packet, finally peeled the rubber down myself and lubed up, I could hear the seconds ticking away inside my head. With each stroke of my internal clock I knew I had less and less time to accomplish two very specific and important tasks.
The first, but least important, was to blow. Since watching Mr. Price run off into the sunset the urge to unload had pulled and tugged at my balls like a greedy party boy after his first hit of poppers.
When I'd thrown myself under the shower, it had taken all of my strength not to rub one out into the draining water gushing over my feet. After I'd convinced myself a better option was only a bus journey away, I refused to waste the opportunity. Especially when it was lying face down, arse up in front of me.
The problem was, as I put a hand on his lower back to push his hole higher, positioned myself and checked the clock on top of his bedside table – four thin, red numbers blaring out the inescapable fact that his parents would be home in half an hour – I couldn't rag him stupid.
I couldn't pump him senseless like Adam had done to me only days before. Use him like my personal cum dumpster until I was sweaty, spent, empty and all better. It wasn't an option because of the second task. The most important.
I needed him to enjoy it. Push through the pain and want it again. I needed him to be keen to spread his legs for me. And for Adam.
James knew I packed a heavy punch, but he didn't need weeks of picture messaging and a throatful to know Adam's would be heavier, bigger, thicker and stronger. Even the ginger midget knew the stories of girls not being able to talk or walk properly the day after one of the king's parties. Everyone did.
There was nothing I could do but work James's hole hard and fast enough to get my rocks off, but gently and considerate enough so I wouldn't put the guy off bottoming forever.
No matter how much he might have fantasised about my cock driving inside of him, balls deep, tough and rough, if I rushed or pushed too quickly or carelessly, the reality could incinerate his and my dreams in a searing, burning instant.
But like I said, in hindsight it was funny. Ironic, too. Because I severely overestimated how long I would last.
I should have known. Seen, or rather sensed it coming when I'd slid my first finger inside of him. Past the constricted, ringed wall of his hole squeezing me so tight I felt the blood pumping under my nail, down my finger and through my hand. But I thought I could last. Handle it.
How wrong I was.
Truth is I lasted two minutes. Maybe less. I didn't count. Couldn't. My brain was too busy switching control of my body to my balls, and they were too busy pulsing and throbbing as I pushed myself deeper and deeper inside the tightest boy I'd ever had the pleasure of opening up.
Not that I didn't have experience topping. Far from it. Once I'd discovered the joys of the Internet, the fifteen-year-old me was more than eager to meet up with guys. My age at first. In the park. The fields near my house. Somewhere secluded. After they'd had fun with my hands they usually wanted more. I never objected.
But then they'd wanted even more. Relationships. Hand holding on the grass, talking about nothing with their mindless friends. So I'd started to meet with older blokes. Started bottoming myself. In their cars late at night. In hotels. At their homes when their wives were out.
At sixteen I finally understood what versatile meant in the drop down box on my Gaydar profile. And at seventeen I was as accustomed to pitching as I was to catching. There just hadn't been many catchers like James. James and his tight, pink, perfect peach.
I should have ignored his adorable whimpers and moans as his face turned redder and redder and droplets of sweat glistened across his forehead. I should have resisted the urge to push apart his arse cheeks with my index finger and thumb. I shouldn't have let myself see every single smooth detail of his hairless hole clamped around my rock hard cock sliding back and forth, slow and steady. Pulling out and pushing in a little more each time.
About three-quarters the way in, time wise and physically inside of him, my load stirred. Fast and uncontrollable as waves of pleasure rose and rolled throughout my body. Even paintings of his stern, wrinkled grandparents wouldn't have stopped me.
The veins in my cock bulged. My thrusts grew faster. Harder. Deeper. Rougher. Tougher.
Panic raced through my mind. I realised I could be hurting him. His hands were clutching at the bed sheet so hard. Bunching it up in tall, skinny, creased mounds inside white-knuckled fists.
But my fear vanished as quickly as it had arrived. His eyes. They'd rolled to the back of his head, twisted ninety degrees flat against the bed, and only a thin white line showed beneath his thick lashed eyelids. His moans were deep and slow. His body was relaxed enough to rock a counter-rhythm. His cock was hard. He was loving every second.
But so was I.
Putting a hand between his shoulder blades I steadied myself and pushed as far as I could. His glutes, smooth and slick with sweat and lube squashed against the base of my abs. He took it all. Squeezed every inch of me from tip to base. I couldn't hold back any longer.
My other hand clamped around his waist. His back arched. His hole tightened. Mine tightened. My legs shook. My whole body did. His mouth opened wider to let out a loud, boyish, pleasure-filled moan. Mine joined alongside and our sounds filled his whole bedroom. They bounced against the walls and down and out into the house as my load did the same against its latex bubble.
I don't know how long I lay on top of him afterwards, amazed at how quickly he'd made me cum. My cock twitching and his arse clenching. Our teenage smells mingling. Our chests rising and falling fast. Our hearts beating hard. I know it wasn't ages, but it felt like forever.
When I eventually slid out of him the condom was full. Fuller than any I'd pulled off before. James checked the clock. Frowned. Told me to tie up the end and leave it on the side so he could jerk off with it when I was gone. I told him to send me a pic.
Five minutes later as I did up my laces, fully dressed and sitting on the edge of his bed, his toilet flushed. James walked back into his room, now pairing his green t-shirt with navy blue gym shorts. His face was still red but he was smiling from ear to ear. He ran over and jumped onto the bed bedside me. Threw his arms around my shoulders, hugged me and kissed me on the cheek.
`That was amazing,' he said. `You're amazing.'
I smiled to myself. He wasn't the first guy to say that to me that week.
`Thanks,' I said, enjoying the warmth of his body against mine for a few seconds before casually wriggling out of him and standing up.
`Are you going?' he said.
`Soon. I should probably head before your folks get back,' I said.
`Yeah. I wish you didn't have to. We could cuddle.'
I supressed a laugh. He really did have the wrong end of the stick. But it was too soon to crush his dreams. I still had to tell him about Adam. I rustled his hair instead.
`Another time. That thing I wanted to talk to you about though.'
`Oh yeah?' he said, jumping to his feet and following me out of his bedroom.
`You hear about Adam Stanmore at school today?' I said as we walked down the thin, spiral stairway.
His footsteps stopped on the step behind me. I looked back. His mouth was wide in surprise.
`I know! I can't believe it!' he said following me again. `Beaten up by his own father. What a prick.'
`Yeah,' I said, now back on the first floor and looking out the window, past my reflection, for signs of headlights. There were none. `You know why, right?'
`Didn't he shag a girl in his parents' bedroom?'
I stopped at the top of the sweeping staircase. He almost bumped into me.
`What?' he said.
`No he fucked a guy.'
`Fuck off!' he said, his face wide with surprise again. A lot wider than before. `Who?'
I said nothing. Just looked down expressionless at him. It took him three seconds to put two and two together.
`You?' he said.
I nodded. Then something happened. Another something I should have seen coming, but I'd been too preoccupied with getting my message across and getting the hell out of his house to see it staring me in the face the whole time.
His mouth hung low and morphed into a frown. He looked down and then back up at me, trying to hide his emotions but failing. Like all the typical teenagers before him, he'd thought a few texts and a fuck meant we were bestest boyfriends forever. The kid was heartbroken.
`Why are you telling me this?' he said.
Putting an arm around his shoulder I walked him down the sweeping staircase. Eyed a wall clock as we went. If his parents took an hour to pick up his brother, including my overestimation, I still only had a few minutes. Now was not the time for damage control, but I had no choice.
`Look,' I said as we reached the ground floor. I squeezed him tighter and then turned to face him. Hands on his shoulders. `I wish I had more time to explain, but Adam meant nothing to me, I promise. But, we got chatting after school today. We spoke about what happened with his dad. I told him he wasn't alone and I'd be there to help if he needed it, you know?'
He nodded. Said nothing. His eyes still sad but now sparkling bright blue under the chandelier.
`Then he asked me something really interesting. He wanted to know if there were any other guys at school like us,' I said.
James looked up. His sad eyes tinted with fear.
`Did you tell him about me?' he said.
`Of course not. But I said I did know one other guy. A really sweet, nice, cute guy I fancied the pants off, and before I knew it, the poor dude was begging me to get us all together.'
`Why?' he asked.
`Who knows! I think he's probably a bit lonely. Wouldn't you be after that?'
I opened the front door and leaned against it. His frown had gone, replaced with confused sympathy.
`I guess so,' he said.
`So how about it?' I said, poking him gently in the centre of his chest. `Shall I tell him he and I can come over some time when your parents are out? Hopefully for a little longer,' I said, tickling him.
He giggled and writhed away from me. Smiled.
`So you two aren't together?' he said.
`No way!' I said putting my hands around his waist and pulling him close again.
`And he won't say anything about me to anyone?'
`Of course not.'
`Ok,' he said nodding. `Let's do it.'
I beamed. Then I kissed him on the lips.
`You're amazing,' I said.
Winking I turned and ran down the driveway, just as the gates began to rattle open in front of me. Almost diving behind a tree I watched a black Mercedes pull into the drive and trundle up to the huge house behind me.
Back by the bus stop I pulled out my phone. Thumbed a message to Adam.
I've got a bite. He'll need more work but his arse is tight as fuck. He thinks I'm his boyfriend. Will do anything for me. You'll like his house too.
His reply didn't ping through my headphones until I was already off the bus and two minutes from home.
You work quickly. Pics?
Scrolling through my archived conversations I found the picture message James had sent earlier that evening. But as I went to forward it to Adam, a brand new one pinged across my screen.
My load looked good as lube so I sent them both. This time Adam's reply was practically instantaneous.
To be continued ...
Head over to my website to learn more about Oscar, including new and exclusive content about my upcoming eBook series Oscar Down Under. An audio recording for Oscar, Part 13 will be uploaded to my website next week!
Copyright Jack Ladd 2016
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