Date: Sat, 1 Jan 2022 22:14:22 +0000 From: Matthew Storm Subject: A Johnson Family Tradition - Chapter 2 NOTICE: This is a work of fiction depicting sex between males, including male relatives. If this is something that bothers you, read no further. Thank you to Nifty Archive for the work it does for its writers. Please consider donating here: https://donate.nifty.org/ Please provide feedback: mattstorm1997@gmail.com Chapter 2 -- After Soccer Practice Fall 2011 -- Columbus, Georgia School started in mid-September and, by then, me and dad had already moved into our new apartment. It wasn't much, but it was enough. It had two bedrooms and one bathroom, a kitchen, and a living room. We lived 20 minutes away from grandpa and uncle Leo and close enough to school for me to walk. The car shop dad worked at was just down the street, so he promised I could drive his car to school once I had my driver's license. The first couple of weeks of school went surprisingly well. I'd never changed schools, so I'd been a bit nervous about starting junior year somewhere new, but I soon realized Columbus' high school was used to having new kids, what with the army families all moving around. I met with the school counsellor - she liked to meet all the new kids -- and she asked about my plans for university. I eventually mentioned I liked soccer and she said I should join the soccer team to get extra credit. Perhaps I could even get a scholarship out of it if I was good. I told her my grandpa knew the soccer coach and she remembered that the coach had already asked her to look out for a kid called Mark Johnson and to send me his way as soon as possible. Coach Brooks met with me the next day. He was a 40-something-year-old, married and with stocky build. He wasn't too tall, but he was still buff, more like my father instead of grandpa. He greeted me with a solid handclasp, welcoming me to Columbus and making some small conversation about my grandpa. Apparently, he'd served under grandpa in the military and had become a PE teacher and soccer coach after returning to civilian life. "So, about the soccer team. Try-outs have already happened, but I think I can still squeeze you in. We lost about half of the team over the summer, with graduation and some of them moving away, so I'm missing some of my big stars. Your grandpa told me great things about you, but no pressure, I know how grandpas can be, especially Sargent Johnson" he chuckled, as if he'd just remembered some inside joke. "We do need to bulk you up. Not much, soccer isn't like football, but I need to make sure you can keep up. We play a lot against other local high schools and most of these kids want to go into the army, so they've been bulking up for quite some time. I'm guessing you want to go too?" "Not really," I answered. "But I do want to bulk up," I quickly added, afraid he'd dismiss me. "Ok, great. We have a gym you can use whenever, and we practice three times a week after school. Before big games, we practice during the weekend as well, ok? Sounds good?" "Sounds great." The first practice was the very next day. I showed up a bit nervous, changing in the locker room. The football team was practicing at the same time, so I had no idea who my team members were. All I knew was that I was weirdly transfixed by them. Coach Brooks had been right when he'd said I would need to bulk to keep up with these guys: most of them were almost as big as dad or uncle Leo. I once again felt weirdly inferior to them, as if I didn't belong. Back in Atlanta, all of my friends had had roughly the same build as me; Tyler had even been slightly overweight! Here, I was the scrawny kid. Despite all that, no one said anything or made jokes. The kids in Columbus were weirdly welcoming, greeting you randomly even if they didn't know you. I guessed this was because they were used to so many new faces every year. Once out on the field, Coach Brooks introduced me to the team. I quickly forgot all of their names and positions, but they all greeted me with a handclasp before Coach made us run laps to warm up. I lagged a bit behind, clearly out of my depth here, but a couple of kids hung back to run alongside me. "So, military family?", one of them asked. He looked way older than me, already sporting a full, dark-brown beard. He was a couple of inches taller as well, but not as buff as some of the other guys, instead having your typical soccer player build. "Kinda," I answered. "My grandpa and uncle are both in the army, my dad isn't." "So, why'd you move here?", the other asked. This one was clean shaven and looked more like my age. "Sorry if that was too forward." "No, it's alright. My mom left," I answered. There was no point denying it. "And dad's family's all here, so we came to Columbus." "Ah, shit," the bearded one said. "Sorry about that." "It's fine. I didn't really get along with her anyway." "I'm Blake, by the way," the bearded one said. "I'm Kyle," the other added. Practice was fine. I wasn't the best, but I definitely also wasn't the worst. My smaller frame granted me more agility, which was key for soccer, so I ended up being able to move the ball around while escaping others' attempts at getting it away from me. Afterwards, Coach gave us some encouraging words, reminding us we still had some time before our first match to get better and then dismissed us to the changing rooms. The football guys were still at practice, so the locker room was just us. I had to take a piss though, so I walked over to the urinal area. There were urinals on one side and cubicles with toilets on the other, with sinks on the third wall and mirrors above. I took a random urinal and pulled down my soccer uniform shorts, blue and flowy, clearly too big for my still matchstick-thick legs. As the stream started flowing, someone took a urinal to my left, leaving one empty in between. I looked up and saw Blake. He gave me a quick grin, the awkward smile you give another guy you know at the urinals. "Great assist back there, I wouldn't have scored without it," he said after a silent beat. "Thanks," I replied, looking down on my cock. The urinals had nothing dividing them, so I didn't want to make it awkward by looking at him, but I noticed from my peripheral vision that he was looking at me. "It was a great shot," I added. "Coach wants me as defender, but we lost one of our best forwards over the summer so I'm trying to take his place," he said, still looking at me. I looked back at him, confident it would be okay considering he was doing the same. For a second, we stood there, pissing and looking at each other. It was bizarre but weirdly... sexual. "What year are you in?", I asked. His beard made him look much older, too old to be in high school. I looked down for a brief second at his arms, also hairy. I suddenly realized he might've taken that as me checking out his cock and, irrationally, I did make a quick glance at it. It wasn't huge, but I gathered it was bigger than average, at least soft. He was cut though, the piss coming out like a strong jet stream and hitting the urinal's porcelain. I looked back up at his face and noticed he too was looking down, clearly looking at my cock. I was suddenly self-conscious of it. Was I a freak for having a big cock? "Junior," he eventually answered. All of our looking had actually only taken about a second. "You're 17?", I asked, incredulous. "Yeah, turning 18 next March. Why?" "No offense, but you look older," I answered, tugging at my cock, squeezing out the last drops. "You don't look 16 yourself," he said. Only later, back by my locker, did I realize what he'd meant by that. I wasn't hairy like him, nor was I muscled or tall. The only thing that would make me look older was my cock. Was Blake... gay? The thought struck me like a thunderbolt. I'd never met a gay guy before. Nor, truthfully, had I ever thought much about it. Of course, I was completely fine by it, and the realization that he might've been checking me out gave me a much-needed ego boost. I showered alongside the other guys. It was my first time participating in this sort of jock culture: back in Atlanta, after PE, the showers had always been an awkward affair. Here, however, we were all talking while standing nude next to each other. Some of the guys were even slapping each other's asses, talking about their sexual endeavors, commenting on each other's dicks. Blake was participating in it all but, throughout it, I could swear he kept looking back at me and, more specifically, at my cock. I quickly realized I was one of the bigger guys, if not the biggest and, again, the thought made me feel proud. I was walking out of the sports center, ready for my walk back home, when someone shouted my name. "Johnson!", Blake called. I turned and saw him waving next to a car, duffel bag slung over his shoulder. "Need a ride?" "Thanks, but I live close by. It's just a 20-minute walk." "That's a 3-minute ride," he countered. I was feeling tired from practice, so I relented. "Alright, thanks," I said, walking towards his car. He unlocked it and I sat on the passenger seat, putting my duffel bag at my feet. "Sorry for the direct question," he started once we'd closed the doors, "but do you smoke pot?" "Sometimes," I lied. I'd never smoked it, but I also didn't want to look uncool. Why was I trying to impress Blake, though? "Do you have time for a quick toke? I know a place." "Sure," I answered, and he started driving. He took us to a dirt road somewhere behind the school, trees all around and empty fields beyond. There was no one else there. He parked and opened the glove compartment, taking out a small pouch which he opened, and promptly started rolling a joint. I looked at him while he did it, fascinated by the process and the swiftness of his fingers. He was definitely experienced in it. "I used to have a smoking buddy, but he graduated last year," he explained. Something in his voice told me this had been a much bigger loss than just a "smoking buddy". "You don't like smoking by yourself?" "I don't mind it," he added, licking the rolling paper so it would close. "But I prefer doing it with someone else." There was a moment of silence as he lit the blunt. I looked intently at him, at the joint hanging from his lips, his fingers lighting up the lighter while behind him the trees swayed gently in the September dusk. He's beautiful, I suddenly realized. His beard was a bit messy from the showers and definitely lacked the care grandpa gave his, but it also granted Blake a weirdly masculine vibe. Like he didn't much care for his looks, like he just wanted to look gruff. His bicep flexed as he held the lighter to the joint, and I noticed it was nicely developed, filling out his t-shirt's sleeve. A small patch of chest hair peaked out from underneath the shirt's neckline, and I noticed he had a thin, gold chain hanging from his neck, hidden underneath. I'd never thought of another man as beautiful. I'd always had a certain attraction to some guys, but I'd always figured that was normal and not sexual. If you have eyes and any understanding of beauty standards, it's impossible not to know whether someone is hot or not. But beautiful was different. Blake was different. He held the joint out to me, and I realized I'd been staring at him for probably a whole minute while he smoked. I tried to come up with an excuse and said, "To be honest, I actually never smoked." He laughed. "But do you want to?" "Yeah," I said, accepting the joint. "But how do I do it?" "Well, the way I was explained was to just pull in some smoke, not too much. Then let it flow down to your throat, but don't swallow it! As it enters your throat, hold your breath as if your dad had just caught you smoking. The first few times I smoked I actually let out a surprised gasp as if I'd been caught and it helped. You'll get better with practice," he encouraged. I followed his instructions, but as soon as the smoke entered my mouth I started coughing wildly. Blake was having a hell of a time watching me struggle, but he wasn't laughing at me. He was laughing with me as I realized the ridiculousness of the situation. I tried again, and this time managed to hold the smoke a little, but it burned, so I let it out quickly. I passed the blunt out to Blake again. By the third time he gave it back to me, I was somehow able to somewhat hold it. I was feeling my body relax, my head lighter than usual, as if every thought had left. I was giggling uncontrollably and Blake was laughing at my giddiness. "The guys already have a nickname for you," he said as he finished the blunt. "What is it?" "BJ," he answered, pressing the joint to the car's ashtray to put it out. "Short for Big John. Or Big Johnson." He must've seen my look of confusion because he grinned and nodded to my lap with his chin. I looked down and knew what he meant. "Oh," was all I managed to say. "Yeah, well, at least it's something cool. I mean, who doesn't want to be known as the guy with the biggest dick, right?" I didn't know if it was all this talk about my cock or the fact that I was suddenly and inexplicably attracted to Blake or the rush of testosterone from soccer practice or the weed or all of the above combined, but I was suddenly sporting an erection, clearly visible underneath my jeans. And Blake was looking at it. "Weed leaves me like that too," he said, and I looked down and saw his own hardon, heavy underneath his gray joggers. "Want to take care of it?" Before I could answer, he reached over and grabbed my cock over my jeans. My first instinct was to move his hand away, and I suddenly shifted in my seat. He looked up at me, waiting for confirmation that what he was doing was okay. I remained still, and he took that as a yes, unbuttoning my jeans with one hand and unbuckling his seatbelt with the other. My heart was fluttering, still in shock of what was happening. My brain was telling me I didn't want this but everything else in my body was begging for him to continue. So, I remained paralyzed, letting him open the zipper. I raised my butt slightly so he could pull down my jeans, exposing my lycra boxer briefs over which my massive cock was clearly visible. "Fuck," he whispered in amazement. "You're so fucking big." I didn't say anything, letting him rub my cock over the fabric. It felt so fucking wonderful. Hannah had never touched me. No one had ever touched me there. And the feeling of another man's strong hands playing with my cock, reaching down to feel my balls, was like crack to my brain. "Fuck," I whispered as well, overwhelmed with what was happening. I was certain I was about to shoot with just his touch but, before I could do that, he stopped and pulled down my briefs. My cock jumped out as he set it free, the tip already slick with precum. He moved his index finger underneath my foreskin getting some of the precum and taking it to his lips. "You taste fucking amazing," he whispered. "Let me see your cock," I said, somewhat awkwardly. He complied, pulling down his joggers and boxers in one go. His cock was around 6'', somewhere on the thick side, cut. It was, like everything about him, beautiful. I gingerly reached out, still confused as to how I was suddenly attracted to another guy and, not only that, was letting him touch my cock and, not only that, was about to touch his. I'd never touched another man's cock. I'd never even thought about doing it. But Blake felt... right. I closed my left hand around his cock and he closed his right hand around mine. For a minute, we stayed like that, stroking each other in his car, each of us looking at the other's meat. I was fascinated by the sensations, both in my hand and on my cock. His dick was warm and solid and his touch on mine was relaxing, even more than the weed. Then, as I was about to cum again, he leaned down. I wasn't expecting that, I hadn't even thought about the possibility of a blowjob. I'd heard stories that some guys liked stroking together, even perhaps stroking each other, but I did want more from Blake. I wanted to have sex with him, to kiss him. Was this what it was like to fall in love? Was this what people meant when they talked about love at first sight? Was this even love? I'd never felt like this with Hannah. I'd liked touching her and getting her pictures and thinking about her, but I'd never actually wanted to do it with her. Maybe that had been the reason why I'd never pushed the topic with her. Or was this just the weed and testosterone getting to my head? All those thoughts dispelled as soon as his lips touched the tip of my cock. I let out a soft moan, shutting down my overthinking brain, and just let Blake do his thing. He licked at my foreskin, taking in my precum, and then his tongue ventured further in, underneath the skin, touching the head. It felt fucking amazing. He was soft about it, letting his warm tongue explore the sensitive area, leaving me moaning like a fucking whore. I could tell he was loving leaving me like this, excited like a teenager hooked on hormones. Well, I was a teenager hooked on hormones. And I was getting a blowjob by a hot guy older than me. Throughout it, I kept stroking his cock and he started playing with my balls as, slowly, he let more and more of my cock into his warm, delicious mouth. His saliva was dripping down my mast and he used it as lube to stroke the base while his mouth took care of the upper half. I'd seen girls deepthroating cocks in porn, and I wondered if Blake was able to do it, so I started thrusting my hips slowly up and down, not wanting to be too forceful. He took a few more inches into his mouth until the head of my cock touched the back of his throat. He was taking it like a champ, but I could tell he couldn't go deeper. No matter. His jaw was already stretched open to take my beer can thick cock and his mouth was warm and hungry, devouring my meat. He bobbed his head up and down, his tongue playing with my head every time he came back up. For a couple of times, he stopped and raised his head to take a deep breath and swallow the precum and saliva that had pooled on his mouth. I wanted to kiss him then, but something held me back. Kissing felt too... real. Too personal. I wasn't sure if he was into that. As he went back down on me, I rested my free hand on top of his head, encouraging him to take me. His hair felt soft as I ran my fingers through it, caressing his head and moving it down to his cheek, feeling his bristly beard. I still couldn't fucking believe a bearded guy was going down on me. It was so different from everything I'd ever imagined. It didn't feel real. Admittedly, it didn't take me long to cum. I didn't want to make excuses, I was just too fucking horny and the entire situation was just too fucking hot. Plus, it was my first real sexual experience and, best of all, my first blowjob. I grunted as I felt my pelvic floor contract, my balls twitching as they released my semen which shot up into Blake's mouth. I hadn't warned him about it, but he didn't seem fazed by it either, taking my load and gulping it down as shot after shot hit his throat. I could tell he was definitely experienced, slurping my load hungrily, as if it were the most amazing thing he'd ever tasted. As my orgasm tapered off, I felt his dick contract in my hand, and it was his turn to cum. He was still leaned over, nursing on my softening dick, so most of his cum hit his shirt as he licked my cock clean of semen and saliva. He didn't seem to mind it though. When he was done orgasming, he sat back up and looked down at his torso to assess the mess. I was still holding his semi-hard cock, some cum on my hand, and his shirt had blotches of cum too. He laughed, and I looked up at him, noticing he had a string of my semen hanging from his beard. I laughed as well, still blown away by what had just happened but beyond ecstatic that it had. Blake took my wrist and raised my cum-covered hand to his mouth. He licked his cum clean from my fingers and I took the chance to feed him the semen that had stuck to his beard. He lapped it all up. "That was the best fucking thing that's ever happened to me," I confessed as he opened the glove compartment again, taking out a pack of soft tissues. He removed one from the pack and offered it to me. I took another and cleaned myself up. "Thanks for letting me do it," he said as he looked at himself in the mirror, making sure he was clean. "Are you kidding me? You can do that to me anytime you want," I said, pulling up my boxer briefs and jeans. "For real?", he asked. He seemed genuinely surprised by my offering. "Of course," I said. He changed shirts and I couldn't help but admire his body as he sat next to me shirtless. He was hairy, which was not surprising, and he had a lean, clean-cut look to him. His abs weren't showing because he was sitting, but his pecs were nicely defined, hanging soft with a golden crucifix in between them, sitting atop the mat of fur on his chest. I wanted to reach out and touch him, feel his body hair in between my fingers like I'd felt his hair and beard, feel his pecs and his strong midriff. Instead, I watched him change and asked, "What's your nickname?" He looked confused, so I elaborated, "With the guys from the team." "Ah," said, slipping on his uniform shirt. A musky whiff of sweat drifted towards me, and my dick twitched again. "Most call me Hairy Blake, for obvious reasons. Some call me Great BJ." He started driving the car back out of the deserted road. "Great BJ?", I asked, confused. I thought "BJ" was my nickname. "My name's Blake Jacobs," he explained. "But also, because I give great blowjobs." He looked at me with a shit-eating grin and I laughed. When I got home, dad was already sitting on the couch, still wearing his mechanic suit, the front zipper half-open. He had a beer in his hand, and he was watching a football game. I sat on the armchair, still feeling woozy from the weed, and couldn't help but stare at him. His solid frame, the black hair peeking out from underneath his suit, his manly moustache, his sharp nose and jaw. He looked over at me, as if feeling my intense look, and his eyes bulged in alarm. "What...," he started. Then he sighed and asked about my day. We talked for a bit, but I was feeling particularly hungry and had a sudden desire for brownies or fries. When I got up to go to the kitchen, dad said, "Just be careful out there." But I was too stoned to understand his meaning. The rest of the fall semester went by in a flash. I was fitting in more with the soccer crowd as I started going to gym with some of them and with practice 3 days a week. Me and Blake became best friends, and it became a running joke among the team to call us "BJ and BJ" because we were so inseparable. We maintained our "joint and blowjob" sessions pretty regularly too, sometimes after practice in the road behind the school, other times at Blake's house whenever he invited me over for some games. Once, he sucked me in the gym's stalls after a workout session. The locker room had been empty, but the thrill of doing it somewhere so public was beyond exciting. I was starting to feel a bit bad for not returning the gesture, but Blake seemed content to be the only one giving the blowjobs. He told me he'd sometimes sucked some of the other guys on the team, but none wanted to do it regularly, so now he only did it with me. What we did was somewhat of an open secret among the team, but no one gave us any hard time with it. Thanksgiving rolled around and we would be having our first match against another local high school team on Saturday. It was going to be a friendly match, so there was no real pressure, but we still practiced more regularly. Coach Brooks guided me through my bulking process, helping me with nutrition and workout plans, and the results were starting to show. My muscles were a bit more defined, even if nothing compared to most of the other guys on the team, but my stamina was also greatly improved. I could now keep pace with everyone else and I was still the most agile. I would stay in the bench for this first match, but I wasn't too fazed by it. Thanksgiving dinner was held at grandpa's place. He and uncle Leo had just returned from some work trip to the west coast, but they insisted on having it there and made sure to invite uncles Rocco and Alex. Uncle Rocco lived in Columbus, but on the other side of the city where me and dad lived. He was a cop and had a wife and twin daughters, so we still hadn't had a chance to meet. Uncle Alex lived close to uncle Rocco and was a fireman. They were 6 and 14 years younger than dad respectively (so 29 and 21 years old). When me and dad got to grandpa's house, dinner was already well underway. It turned out that Leo was a great cook, and so was Rocco's wife, Sarah. Sarah was a petite woman, made even more petite next to uncle Rocco, who was as big, if not bigger, than grandpa. The main difference was that Rocco sported a firm beer belly underneath his plaid shirt and seemed to have more of a dad bod. Still, I could tell he kept in shape, and his jovial look paired well with his deep, thunderous and frequent laughter. He introduced me to his little girls, Emma and Elsa, both 6, each sitting proudly on one of Rocco's arms. I couldn't help but notice the firm biceps straining his tight shirt. I offered to help with dinner, but uncle Leo and Sarah shoed me away to the living room where dad, grandpa and Rocco were all sitting with beers on their hands while watching a game. The twins were playing with some toys in front of them, so I sat on one of the armchairs. Emma and Elsa looked like carbon copies of their mother, except for their noses. They, too, had the so-called "Balzano Roman nose". I chuckled at that and texted Blake, asking him how his Thanksgiving was going. A few minutes later, uncle Alex showed up. He'd brought his girlfriend, Kelly, and we all greeted each other. I'd known uncle Alex was young, but I was still surprised to see what basically looked like a slightly older version of me except, of course, a bit taller and much buffer. Looking around, I realized that all of us men looked strikingly identical, with only a few differences. Leo was blonde, Rocco had a more prominent chin, and Alex had brown eyes, instead of blue. But, other than that, there was no denying we were all related. "I guess I'm your uncle," Alex said, clasping my hand. "I guess so," I answered, smiling. He held my hand for a second too long, looking me in the eyes just like grandpa had done that very first day. Alex had a striking smile, not unlike dad's. "Sorry," he said, patting my shoulder. "It's still weird thinking that I have a 16-year-old nephew at 21. But I guess your dad could be my dad, by this family's standards," he joked and, right on cue, my dad smacked him in the head. Dinner was delicious and, afterwards, we all just sat around in the living room making small conversation. Grandpa and Leo were talking about their next deployment which, apparently, would be happening right after my birthday in February. Kelly and Sarah started talking about children and marriage, a conversation Alex was keen on ignoring. He got up and tapped me on the shoulder, nodding for me to follow. He led me to the kitchen and opened the fridge, taking out two cold beers and handing me one, signaling for me to keep quiet. I greedily except, grinning, and then followed him out to the backyard. "If your dad or grandpa or Rocco find out about this, they'll flay me alive," he explained as he sat down on a chair. I followed suit and sat on the one next to his. He held out his beer and we clinked them together. He winked at me, and we both drank. "Thanks," I said, feeling refreshed. "Ah, no problem. I'm the cool uncle," he jokingly said. "Maybe one day we can smoke a joint together." My heart skipped a beat. "How do you know?", I asked. "I was 16-years-old just 5 years ago," he said. "Plus, I'm not the cop. But, either way, Rocco smoked too." "Really?" "Yeah, he was the one who introduced me to it. And he, in turn, was introduced to it by Leo and Matt." "My dad?" "No offense, but your dad had a kid at 18. Did you really think he was some uptight guy? Nah, you got lucky with this family. We're a nice bunch, I think." We sipped from our beers in the following silence, and then he asked, "How's school? I heard you were in the soccer team." We talked a bit about that, and I mentioned I had a game Saturday. He said he would be working, but that he would try and change shifts so he could go. I explained that wasn't really necessary, but he insisted he wanted to go, so I relented. "And any chicks?", he then asked. There was a beat of silence, and I was about to answer before he added, "Or dudes, I don't discriminate." "Ah," I started. I desperately wanted to tell him about Blake. Maybe he could offer me some guidance on my newly discovered male attraction. But then I remembered Alex had a girlfriend and was probably straight, so there was no point. "I'm keeping somewhat of a low profile for now, trying to focus on soccer and the new school and whatnot." That didn't seem to satisfy him, but he didn't press the subject. We finished our beers and went back inside, Alex squeezing my shoulder as he followed from behind. We ended up winning the game on Saturday because of me. Coach Brooks had sorted me out as a midfielder and one of the guys got injured halfway through the game. It was tied 1-1 by then, and my substitution didn't look auspicious, what with my still sub-par physique. However, just 5 minutes before the end, I managed to pass the ball to Blake, who then passed it back to Kyle and then back to me and I somehow managed to score. I was flooded with a rush of adrenaline and started running around the field in celebration with Blake and Kyle in tow. I saw my family in the stands (dad, grandpa, Leo, Alex and Kelly) celebrating wildly as if I'd just won the World Cup. Afterwards, in the locker room, the guys went wild on me, shouting "BJ" at the top of their lungs as they shook me around in celebration. Kyle managed to convince his parents to let him host an afterparty at his house and I met with dad to ask him if I could go. He said it was fine, tousling my hair and kissing my forehead, congratulating me on the win. The others all congratulated me as well and I felt Alex press something to my hand. I closed my fist around the small baggie of weed, and put it in my pocket, waving them goodbye as I followed Blake to his car. One of the older guys had managed to buy some beers and they all teased me when I got one for myself, saying I was too young and shouldn't be drinking. I drank anyways, and they started chanting "chug, chug, chug" and I finished my beer in one go. I got another and Blake patted me on the back, moving me away from the testosterone-filled guys in the kitchen to avoid another chug-chant. We went to the backyard, and I handed Blake the weed Alex had given me. He rolled a couple of blunts and we smoked them with some other guys while drinking our beers. I was feeling pretty buzzed, and the sudden influx of beer made me want to piss. I told Blake I was going to the bathroom, and he followed me upstairs. Once in the bathroom, he shut the door behind him and we started pissing together, giggling like kids as I reached over to grab his cock and he mine. When we were done, I let myself fall back against the bathroom wall, dick still out, my head feeling as if it were full of helium and was about to float away. "Want me to suck your cock?", Blake asked, slurring his words. "Fuck yeah I do," I replied, laughing and swinging my dick around. Some droplets of piss flew away as I did it and we giggled uncontrollably. Blake approached me, taking my cock in his hand and stroking it to get it up. He was standing so close to me, and I could smell his warm breath, acrid with alcohol. His smile was beautiful, his teeth whiter in contrast with his beard, and my eyes roved over his body, tight underneath his shirt. The chest hair visible just above the neckline drove me crazy and I put one hand underneath his shirt, feeling his hairy abs. This was the first time I was touching his body. The first time we were doing anything that could be considered remotely sensual, instead of sexual. I didn't care. His belly was warm and firm underneath my hands, his hair rough and masculine. Blake leaned against the wall next to me, still stroking my now hard cock as I felt his body, his face close to mine, still smiling. I smiled back. It happened before I could think too much about it: one moment we were smiling, looking into each other's eyes, the other we were kissing, our lips brushing against each other before our tongues touched. He tasted deliciously, his tongue warm and soft as our saliva moved from one mouth to the other. I closed my eyes and felt like I was floating, his hand still stroking my now completely erect cock and my hands still exploring his body, my fingers trailing through his abs and up his chest, caressing his pecs and playing with a nipple. Our tongues battled in our mouths as we kissed more and more hungrily, Blake pushing me against the wall with his kiss. He broke our kiss and his lips moved to my chin. I raised my head, exposing my neck, and he kissed my skin there. I laughed at the tingling sensation of his soft lips against my still hairless neck. He kept moving further down, kissing my body over my shirt, until he was kneeling before me. I grabbed the back of his head and pulled it back so he was looking up at me. We looked at each other for a moment. I still couldn't believe how fucking hot he was. And I still couldn't believe he liked sucking my dick. I leaned down and kissed him again. He opened his mouth, letting out his tongue, and I licked it with mine, sucking on his lips, feeling his bristly beard against my skin. Then, I leaned back against the wall again, and let him service me. He kissed the top of my dick, as he usually did, savoring the precum. I was so horny that my dick already looked like a fountain, sticky precum forming strings between my foreskin and his lips each time he went down to kiss it. His tongue explored the folds of skin, touching the head underneath. He wrapped his lips around the first inch, readying his jaw for my jawbreaker. I let him go at his pace, but I also wanted to just shove it all down his throat. Slowly, he started swallowing more and more inches of my meat and I looked down, fascinated as my shaft disappeared between his lips and into his warm, wet mouth. His jaw was open wide, but he was now used to my beer can thick dick. The head touched the back of his throat, and I instinctively pulled a bit out, not wanting to hurt him. He stopped sucking me and said, "I want you to fuck my mouth." I grinned down at him and grabbed the back of his head again to keep him steady. In truth, I didn't really know how to do it, but the beer and the pot were giving me more confidence than I would've felt. He swallowed half of my dick before it got to the back of his throat again and I removed it a bit, only to shove it back in. I was holding his head so he would stay put and I backed out again and thrust once more. Each time, he swallowed one more inch until, eventually, his nose was buried in my bush of black pubes. I held him there for a moment, letting him choke on my cock and smell the sweat on my pubes. Saliva was dripping down his lips and onto his beard and he tapped my leg to let me know he couldn't take it anymore. I complied and pulled it out, looking down at him to make sure he was okay. He replied with a shit-eating grin, like he couldn't believe he'd been able to take it. Then, he went back to sucking me, looking up at me, hunger in his puppy eyes. I face fucked him, thrusting my hips against him and shoving my cock deep down his throat. He deepthroated me twice more and, each time, he held it for a second longer. I didn't know how he managed it, but I didn't care. I was in bliss, looking down at his teary eyes and saliva covered mouth and beard. A hot fucking guy, so fucking manly, kneeling before me and taking my cock. I was ready to blow. I took out my cock and started stroking it furiously, my dick slick with Blake's saliva. He took the hint and dutifully opened his mouth, letting out his tongue. I wanted to see my cum in his mouth, wanted to see his hungry eyes as I fed him my seed, my 16-year-old jock seed. I came almost immediately, grunting as my load landed on his tongue, pooling in his mouth, a mass of white spunk filling him up. By then, he'd taken out his cock and had also been stroking it and he came not long after, spraying the wall between my legs and floor. I squeezed the last drops of cum into his mouth and Blake swallowed it all in one go, opening it again as if to show me his good work. I grinned down at him, still high from the beer and the pot and the amazing orgasm. "You're the fucking best," I said, still panting. He got up and kissed me again.