A BOOK OF FIRSTS, Pt 15
I actually met Preston in middle school when our tennis teams met in tournaments. I thought he was a little stuck up. He later told me that he thought I was. That’s perhaps because we were both shy and both highly competitive on the court, and we were on competing teams.
Preston and I were average height, and pretty lean. He had piercing blue eyes, and his jet-black hair, which he kept short, was thick as fur. He usually wore a terrycloth headband and those really short tennis shorts we wore back then. And… he had a wicked serve.
My hair was dark blond and so damned curly that I usually wore a ball cap; reversed for tennis… well, reversed most of the time. My forehand was respectable, and I handled Preston’s serves well enough to have beaten him twice in matches. I won’t say how many times I lost matches to him.
We ended up as freshmen in the same high school. The first day, I had a couple of classes with him. Then, rushing for my phys ed class, which I had at the end of the day, because I was in tennis, I ran into Preston, literally, coming around a corner. We both dropped stuff.
We helped each other pick things up, and then sort of naturally walked together toward the gym.
“I see you’re still not that coordinated,” he said.
I glanced at him, and saw the corners of his mouth curl slightly.
“And you,” I said, “seem to be as clumsy as ever.”
“We’ll see,” he said flashing grin.
We were assigned adjacent lockers and got in each other’s way as we tried to change.
“Just don’t bean me with your racquet,” he warned.
“Then quit jabbing me with your boney elbow.”
We bumped into each other going out the door, stopped for each other, neither of us moved, so we both did, bumping again. We laughed. Besides ineptitude at politeness, I guess we were at that “awkward” stage boys hit about fourteen. Anyway, I started calling him Clumsy instead of Preston and he started calling me Reckless instead of Stephan, and we became best friends, beginning that afternoon.
We were pretty evenly matched, and when we paired for doubles, we did great, even against upper classmen. We began hanging together at school and after, doing homework together, playing Nintendo at his house or Playstation at mine. We found we had lots in common, and we enjoyed being together. We really, really liked each other.
Then one afternoon, when we were changing for practice, I noticed Preston looking at Tommy Moran’s butt. It was only a matter of seconds… Preston looking at Tommy’s bare butt – Tommy wore a jock for practice – and then at Tommy’s legs. Preston glanced away, but when Tommy turned back toward him, Preston’s eyes went right to Tommy’s jock-covered package.
Tommy didn’t notice; he was talking to another guy. I don’t think Preston saw me notice, and I don’t think anyone else did.
It was a little unsettling because of the way Preston looked at him. I mean, all guys check each other out, but Preston looked, well… a little impressed. And the really unsettling part about it was that I got jealous of Tommy.
My feelings were sort of complicated. It wasn’t like I was into guys. I dreamed about girls and ogled them as much as any guy. But I was painfully shy around girls, and not around guys. And, too, I guess that like any guy that age, I admired other boys’ bodies… when they had strong legs, or a lean torso, or good definition, or a nice package. Especially that last part. I had developed a fairly good package myself and I liked its prominence when I looked down my body, or the way it pouched up when I sat, or the way my balls filled my palm when I held them with my cock dangling over the side; and I made constant comparisons of my package with those of other guys.
So when I saw Preston look at Tommy that way, I got a little jealous. I mean, I didn’t want to lose my new best friend to Tommy because he was cooler, but as odd as the thought struck me, if Preston was going to admire another boy’s body, I wanted it to be mine.
So… of course… the next day, I wore a jock for practice. I pulled it on with my back to Preston and sneaked a glance back over my shoulder. I was glad to see that Preston’s eyes were on my butt. Incredibly, my cock started to thicken, and I quickly pulled on my shorts.
The day after that, Preston wore a jock for practice, as well. He pulled it on with his back to me. I was sitting on the bench, and his white butt, two firm globes of muscle, was only inches away. His skin was creamy as milk and really smooth and soft looking. When Preston turned back toward me, suddenly, he caught me staring at his ass. I know I blushed as I quickly looked away.
When we showered, afterward, Preston and I got into a shoving contest under one of the shower heads, and I could swear his cock grew a little. Mine did. We both had an adequate, circumcised endowment, and our dicks swung like heavy pendulums. We got into a towel popping contest after that, and I put a couple of red marks on his white butt. He put several marks on me; mainly on my legs.
If I were to try to pick a time when I started thinking about Preston sexually, I’d pick that night, because that night, I jacked off in bed, thinking about holding Preston up against the shower room wall while rubbing my cock on his firm bottom.
After that, I thought a lot about Preston. All the things I’d ever heard of boys doing together, I imagined doing with Preston, and I wondered what each different thing would be like.
Our relationship became, subtly, more physical. One afternoon, when we sat in the stands for one coach’s skills talks, Preston took a seat on the row below me and leaned back against my knees for a back rest. I loved the feel of his firm back against my knees and shins. I liked watching his head as he turned left and right – I liked the shape of his head and that thick black fur on top of his head. I liked even better, the easily familiarity of his leaning back against me; it was a “best buds” kind of thing.
Next talk, I took a turn leaning back against his knees, and he stole my cap, putting it on.
When he leaned back against my knees at the next talk, I popped his sweatband… several times.
Then, at like, the next talk, I sat to lean back against his knees, he spread his legs so that I fell back between them. I think he thought I’d sprain a gut trying to catch myself, but I didn’t let it faze me; I simply rested my back against his crotch, like a backrest, and draped an arm over each of his legs, like armrests. He stole my cap again.
The next talk, he took the lower seat, and when he leaned back, I opened my legs. He leaned back against my crotch, an arm draped over each of my legs the way I had done with his. It took all of my concentration on anything other than the feel of his back between my legs, to not spring a boner.
A few times, sitting like that, I did run my knuckles through his dense hair as a kind of gentle noogie. I couldn’t do it much though because it gave me a hard-on.
There was a talk or two, when I thought I felt an erection behind my back. There was also a talk or two when I was glad my dick pointed up my lap instead of down my pant leg. I nevertheless wondered if Preston felt the lump of my thickness at the base of my cock. I certainly felt his back against it, and it took a hell of a lot of concentration to not start leaking precum.
It wasn’t just in coaches talks or assemblies that we grew more physical. When we walked together, Preston would sling an arm over my shoulders, or I’d throw an arm over his shoulders. Lying on the floor to watch TV at his house or mine, he’d use my butt or belly for a pillow, or I’d use his. At my house, we shared opposite ends of the couch, with our legs resting against one another’s.
When we sat to play Nintendo, we sat side-by-side, shoulders touching, and we shoved each other, joking around. I loved the feel of his lean body as we jostled. I liked his grin and the way he laughed and the way his eyes were so happy when they met mine. I liked how happy I felt.
All our little touches and body contact began to feel like some, strange courting dance. One of us would come up with a new way to lean against each other, or touch, or butt swat, or elbow, and then the other would come up with something else.
It wasn’t like we were getting hard-ons all the time – we did, some; at least I did, and I thought he did – but it all became increasingly sexual, until I was like ninety-nine percent sure that Preston wanted to sex with me as much as I wanted to with him. But at fourteen, one little percent of uncertainty is scary as hell. I mean, what if I was wrong? What if I thought Preston wanted to sex with me, but I completely misread him, and he didn’t. There would go, not only our friendship, but my whole damn reputation and life?
Most difficult was when we slept over and crawled into bed in only our boxers, and then lay with legs or shoulders touching, and it was so damned hard to sleep. And then one night; I woke laying on him. He was on his belly and I was laying beside him with my leg cocked over the back of his legs. My erection pressed his butt. I gasped and quickly rolled away because I was about ready to shoot.
For a moment, I lay, barely breathing, listening. Preston didn’t stir even though I thought he must have been awake. After a moment, I went quietly to the bathroom and jacked off.
There were times I felt like some stupid girl in a movie because I’d always be so damned happy when Preston called or when he greeted me in the morning with, “Hey, Reckless,” and I’d call back, “Hey, Clumsy.”
The Christmas/New Years break arrived, and we spent most of every day together. I loved it. It was a great time. But it was like there were two of me. One of me was great friends with Preston, and it was incredible fun, simply being with him. But there was another one of me, living my life on edge because the more I was with Preston, the more I desired him. The more I noticed how very blue his eyes were, or how veins and had begun to show in his forearms, or how smooth the skin of his thighs, or how perfectly shaped the hollow under his ear… the more I noticed, the more I wanted to touch, to hold, to kiss.
I thought about Preston all the time, even when we weren’t together. I couldn’t eat. I couldn’t focus. My mom thought I was sick. Maybe I was. Maybe I had what they used to call lovesickness or love fever. I know it wouldn’t have been nearly as bad if I didn’t think Preston really wanted to do it, too. That was the worse part of it; I was scared shitless to try anything.
Shortly after school started back up, we saw two guys clowning in the hall. They made it look at first like they were kissing, but one guy had his hand over the other guy’s mouth and he was actually only kissing the back of his hand while covering the other guy’s mouth with his palm.
On the way to tennis – we called it tennis, but, in the winter, it was cross-training three days a week and a trip to a local sports club with indoor courts two days a week – that afternoon, laughing, Preston backed me to a wall, covering my mouth with his hand, and then he kissed the back of his hand. He was clowning around, but it took my breath away because, for a moment, his body pressed mine, and his face was as close as with a real kiss.
After workout, I did it to him in the shower. It was an impulse, because I thought it’d freak all the guys out, and because Preston and I were naked and I wanted to press my body to his, and it was a really, really stupid idea. Our bodies pressed briefly and my cock took a quantum leap.
I pulled back quickly, laughing to show I’d been joking, and dodging back under my shower head, pretending to wash between my legs with both hands, trying to hold down and conceal my cock. I tried to think about the lob-smash sequence Preston had been destroying me with, and how to counter it, and I thought about the history test the next day, and I did not look at Preston and his naked body or any of the other naked boys, most of who were laughing and hooting like I thought they would at the fake kiss, and hopefully, not laughing at me trying to keep down a boner.
As we walked from the gym, bundled in thick jackets against the cold, Preston elbowed me.
“You sprung a boner in the shower, didn’t you?” he asked with a grin.
“You did,” he said, elbowing me again. “You damn near gave me one, too, you asshole.”
I glanced at him. He was grinning.
“Well, you did!” he said. “What’d you think would happen, with both of us naked like that?”
His smile faded slightly, and he looked away.
“You still coming to my house for supper?” he asked.
“Yeah. We need to study for that history exam tomorrow. I want to ace it.”
We walked silently then, for a few moments, crunching in the snow. His mom was waiting in her car out front and we both climbed into the back.
After supper, we kicked off our shoes and sat on the foot of his bed, playing Madden on the Nintendo, to “unwind” before studying. We’d barely started when, while I was trying to execute a pass in the game, Preston grabbed me from the side and fake kissed me. When I looked back at the game, I’d been intercepted.
“That’s cheating!” I told him.
“Ha! They do it in the NFL all the time,” he said, choosing his first-down play.
“Yeah, right. Tacklin’ and kissin’. Nothing but tacklin’ and kissin’.”
He called a run, and my team held him. Then I figured he’d call a pass, and I’d do to him what he’d done to me. Only, I wanted to really kiss him. I wanted to kiss him badly enough that I faked my hand slipping from his mouth “accidently” and I brushed his lips with mine. Then I made a show of spitting and being grossed out by the “accident”.
He howled and gave me shove and we rocked apart and then back together on the foot of the bed.
We picked the next play and defense.
“Dude,” he said quietly. “If that’s the best you can kiss, you aren’t going to get many girls.”
I glanced at him. He wasn’t smiling. His eyes were on my lips. His face was red and he looked like the bottom had fallen out of his stomach, which was suddenly how I felt myself. I swallowed hard.
And then, scared beyond shitless, I leaned in and placed my lips on Preston’s. He returned the kiss. Suddenly, I felt his hand cradle the back of my head, and our lips pressed more firmly. Our mouths opened. I probed into his mouth with my tongue and wrapped an arm behind his back.
His mouth was warm and wet, and his tongue slid forcefully against mine… I could feel the bumps of his tongue’s surface against the side of my tongue, and then under it, and then top of tongue to top of tongue.
He exhaled sharply through his nostrils, and my nostrils flared as I inhaled deeply, remembering to breathe.
I laid my game controller aside and placed my hand on his belly through his t-shirt. He laid his controller aside and slid his hand behind my back.
Without breaking the kiss, I laid him back onto the bed, his legs dangling over the end. His fingers were in the back of my hair and a hand went up under my t-shirt, up my side. I slipped a hand under his t-shirt and onto the smooth, warm skin of his belly. It was a flat, taut belly, heaving under my palm.
We kissed hungrily, with the desperation of fourteen-year-olds, possessed, driven by raging hormones and boners, and months of pent up longing. Under my shirt, his hands ran up my sides, over my chest, down my back. I felt over his belly and chest.
He pulled my shirt up, and I sat up to pull it over my head. Preston sat up to pull his off, and he scooted all the way up onto the bed before laying back down. I was on him instantly, bare belly and chest to bare belly and chest, mouth to mouth. The sensation of his bare skin against mine brought my heart to my throat.
I was hard as a rock, and I could feel his hardness through our pants. We embraced tightly, me lying on him, chests and bellies heaving as we probed and wrestled with our tongues.
We rolled, and Preston was on top, and his hand was working down between our bellies, tugging at my belt.
“Dude,” I whispered, catching my breath. “Lock the door.”
He jumped from the bed, and I unfastened my belt and jeans, and he was instantly back, grabbing the bottoms of my jeans and pulling them right off me. One sock went with them. I pushed down my boxers and he grabbed them, pulling them off as well, along with the other sock.
My dick pointed straight up my belly, and his eyes locked on it as he unfastened his belt and jeans and shoved them and his boxers down and off, all at once. And then, for a moment, he stood in only his socks, at the foot of the bed, looking at my body and me looking at his.
His cock was longer than mine, but not thicker. Both our cocks had large, flared crowns and a deep pink color. His dick bobbed.
“Holy shit!” I murmured.
His eyes rose to mine briefly, and then dropped back to my body.
“Awesome,” he murmured quietly. He came up onto the bed, crawling up over me on all fours like a cat before dropping his body onto mine and covering my mouth once more with his.
I was beyond all conscious thought. We kissed, we rolled, we entwined legs, and we rubbed cocks. We finally wound up with me on my back and us holding each other tightly, nuzzling, while we humped furiously.
I arched under him when my orgasm hit, driving my hips up. He pounded faster.
And then it was over; Preston collapsed on me, the two of us still embraced, still cheek to cheek.
“Well,” he said, taking a deep, shuddering breath. “We finally did it.”
“No shit!” I murmured.
He started to roll off, but I held him. “Don’t,” I said quietly. “Don’t move yet.”
“I guess,” I said, “I feel sorta weird about all this, now, and if you roll off me, I think I’ll feel weirder about it.”
He relaxed onto me. I didn’t know he wasn’t relaxed, but I felt him relax even more. He nuzzled under my ear.
“Don’t feel weird about it, Reckless,” he murmured. “That was fucking, incredibly awesome.”
I smiled and nuzzled his thick hair. “It was, wasn’t it?”
He nodded beside my head.
We were quiet a moment.
“It does feel a little weird,” he whispered. “Like, when I lift my head and look at you, is it gonna be all different?”
I shrugged. “Kiss me,” I whispered. “Don’t look at me yet. Kiss me with your eyes closed and we’ll open our eyes in a minute.”
He lifted his head and I closed my eyes, and his lips settled on mine. He had firm lips and the skin around his mouth and his cheeks was so soft. We wrestled tongues lightly.
“Keep your eyes closed,” he whispered. “Let me look at you first.”
I kept my eyes closed and he lifted his head.
“You are so hot!” he whispered, and he ground his hips slightly, grinding our crotches.
I opened my eyes and smiled at him. “You’re the one who’s hot,” I told him.
His eyes traveled over my features, and then he squinted, almost like he’d been hit in the gut, and he plunged his mouth onto mine once more.
I ran my hands down his back, and over his butt. No baby ever had a softer skinned bottom, but unlike a baby’s, the two globes of Preston’s bottom were firm and muscular.
“I’ve wanted to grab your butt so many times,” I murmured.
He lifted his head and looked down at me, with an almost sad smile. “Dude, I’ve been lusting for your body since the first day in the showers at school.”
“Why didn’t you do anything earlier?” I asked.
“Why didn’t you? There’ve been times when all you woulda needed to do was touch me and we would have gone up in flames.”
I grinned. “We were smokin’ hot, weren’t we?” I parted my legs and his settled between mine. I kneaded his butt.
Preston smiled and ground his hips. “We smoked,” he confirmed softly. His eyes dropped to my mouth. “Did you know you have a sexy mouth?”
“No,” I said, smiling, wondering if my mouth looked sexy when I smiled.
“You have no idea,” he murmured, lowering his mouth once more to mine.
I don’t think I’d even gotten soft; I don’t think either of us had. We began kissing again, and then grinding. We rolled to the side and felt the cum between our bellies.
We took our time, this time. We rubbed cocks on our sides, and then grabbed each other’s cock and stroked it, and the feel of his cock in my hand left me speechless. We rolled with Preston onto his back and me on top. He grabbed my butt as I ground my hips.
“You’ve got a fine ass, Recklass,” he murmured. “You’ve got a damn fine ass.”
I rubbed noses with him. “Not as fine as yours, Clumsy. You’ve got the finest ass I’ve ever seen.”
His eyes dropped to my lips again, so I lowered my mouth to his, and we kissed deeply, forcefully. And when we held each other to catch our breath, I pumped my hips. Preston parted his legs.
“This is so fuckin’ hot,” he murmured beside my ear. “I can feel your balls on mine, and the way your legs feel between my legs… I never realized it would feel like this.”
I pumped my hips and he opened his legs wide out to the sides. He clutched at my butt, pulling my dick hard against his crotch. I pushed up onto my hands to watch his face as I humped. His eyes closed and his head lolled. And then he arched back under me, and I looked between our bellies to where our cockheads poked out and back. I saw his cum shoot up onto his stomach.
And then he relaxed, all dreamy looking, and when I settled back down onto him, he wrapped his arms around my shoulders. I rubbed my cheek against his soft one.
We rested a moment. I was still hard and wanted to come, but it seemed right to simply wait.
He nuzzled the side of my face and sighed contentedly. His fingers stroked my back and I shuddered.
“You haven’t come again yet, have you?” he asked softly.
He rolled me to my back, leaning up over me. He gazed down into my eyes and smiled. Then he slid down my body, and I sucked my belly almost to my backbone, watching as Preston slid his hand over my cock and balls, rubbing them. He adjusted his position, and bent down to take my cock into his mouth.
I froze. I’d imagined this moment. I’d imagined Preston giving me a blow job, but the reality was so incredibly better than my imagination had been… the warm, wet envelopment, the licking, the feel of his tongue going over my crown, and the sheer intimacy and vulnerability of the moment.
I moved my hips, moving my dick inside his mouth. His head moved with me, a slow bob. He grasped the base of my shaft with his hand, and then licked over my crown like an ice cream cone.
“Oh, shit!” I gasped. “I’m gonna come!”
Preston quickly covered my crown with his mouth, and he drank all that I shot.
“Dude,” I gasped in a pained voice as my crown went super sensitive in his mouth.
Preston came up beside me, lying on his side, gazing at me. He laid his palm on my chest, and then smiled. “Did you like it?” he asked.
“Ha!” I laughed and rolled up to face him. “It was awesome.” I laid my hand on the side of his waist. “Of course, when I do you, I’ll do it even better.”
He grinned. “I can’t wait for you to try.”
I glanced down at his dick. It was pretty thick.
“Maybe we should study some history,” he said.
“History!” I murmured disdainfully. “We just made history.”
Preston laughed and mussed my hair. “Do you think that will be on the exam?”
We had barely cleaned up when his mom called up the stairs to say she’d baked cookies for us.
She watched as we sat in the kitchen, eating oatmeal cookies and drinking milk.
“Mom,” Preston said, giving me a wink. “We’ve got a lot more studying to do for this history exam tomorrow. We’re gonna be up late, so Stephan needs to sleep over.”
His mom glanced at me and smiled. “Fine with me. You better call your mom, though Stephen.”
I aced the exam, barely. It was an easier exam than I thought it would be, which was good, because I did very little studying the night before, or sleeping.
It turned out that I worried more all day about whether people could tell, just by looking, that I had sucked Preston’s cock; I felt like they could. I wondered if they could tell, just by watching me, that my butt still felt loose as a goose because Vaseline sure as hell doesn’t wash off all that easily. The most difficult part of the day was Preston and me trying to act naturally together.
“Preston’s sleeping over tonight,” I told my mom as we piled into the back of her car after tennis that evening. “It’s the weekend,” I said, “and we stayed up so late studying last night that we’re gonna sleep in all day tomorrow.”
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