Date: Thu, 17 Apr 2008 23:17:25 -0500 From: Charles Hughes Subject: TOMAS AND THE DICK - Chapter 1 (t/b) This story is fiction. It describes the relationships among three boys, a young teen and younger boys. If this offends you, or if you are not 18 years of age, or if it is illegal where you reside to read such material, you must leave. Copyright 2008 Charles Hughes, all rights reserved I will try to answer all emails: the. empty.room@hotmail.com TOMAS AND THE DICK - Chapter 1 (t/b) Tomas luxurated in the shower. He let the suds slowly move down his chest. The white suds contrasted with his burnished-copper skin. His tight nipples reappeared as the suds moved slowly downward. He wanted to imagine the suds were rippling over his abs, but he was honest enough to admit that his abs just weren't that well developed yet. The white bubbles drifted downward, like a snow-covered island on a darker sea. The bubbles slowed noticeably when they reached his sparse black pubes, but the movement finally resumed. His flaccid cock disappeared under the suds then, and soon the bubbles gave up on him and dripped from his cock to the floor. Tomas stepped quickly back under the water and rinsed off. It would not be wise to let any of the other guys catch on to his fantasy. No one seemed to mind too much if someone became semi-hard in the shower or locker room, but a full-blown hardon was a no-no. At least he had enough control so he didn't have to worry about that problem. He had enough problems already. At thirteen, Tomas found himself in something of a no-man's land. He wasn't a child anymore, but he wasn't really a man. Technically, he was a teenager now, though barely, but he didn't feel like one. To make things worse, he'd known for some time that his interest was in his own sex. He had no interest at all in girls. They had an interest in him, however. He was easily the best looking boy in the seventh grade. His Mexican-American background gave him hair as dark as the night and skin as smooth as a baby's. His even features were highlighted by his dark brown eyes and full lips. He was well-muscled for a thirteen-year-old, and the girls referred to him as a hunk. When he was on the basketball court, he could feel their eyes all over him. But Tomas' own eyes were elsewhere. He would catch glimpses of cock and ass in the locker room. He knew some of the other guys looked at him, too, but that was because, a year older, he was what many of them wished they were, hoped they would be. At home in bed at night, Tomas would select a boy for his dreams and spend time teasing his naked body into sexual tension. When he finally allowed himself to jack off, his cum lay stark on his chest or shoulders or thighs. He would lick it from his fingers, and his sexual high would slowly become a deep frustration. He was a year older than his seventh-grade classmates because he'd been held back in the early grades. He'd been so shy and quiet his teachers assumed he was a little slow. In fact, he was very intelligent but bored with school, and he did fall behind. His mother enrolled him in a tutoring program, and when his reading improved dramatically so did his grades in everything else. As he dried himself in the locker room, he was completely unself-conscious. He had learned to accept his physique and did not try to show off. He slipped his white briefs on over his strong thighs, tucked his dick in place, and took his jeans and t-shirt from the locker. "Later, guys," he called as he finished dressing and left. The others on the team liked him, but he was not really one of the gang. His shyness returned when he got off the court, and some people assumed he was just a little "stand-offish." It wasn't that. He felt "apart." Part of it was that he was older. Part of it was that he now had little difficulty with his school subjects and got better grades than many. But, mostly, it was the fact that he was gay. He'd known that for quite a while, ever since he was a boy, and he'd also known what most people, especially school boys, thought about queers. So he preferred to be inconspicuous. He hopped on his bike and headed for the southside. He hated riding the school bus and didn't ride it unless he had to. Too noisy. Everybody talking with friends. And he was too alone. If he had to be alone, then he'd be alone on his own terms. The library was to be just a quick stop on the way home; he needed to pick up something reserved for him. But while he was waiting at the desk he saw a boy he'd never seen before walk in the front door and look around. Tomas watched him turn into the stacks. The guy was nothing special, really. Shorter than Tomas' own 5'4" but more slender. Light brown hair. Kind of a graceful walk. Tomas heard the librarian calling him back to reality, and he checked out his book. Instead of leaving, however, he decided to look up the guy who had just walked in. He went back into the stacks and wandered around a little bit, but he didn't see him again. He sighed, feeling stupid, and went into the john before heading home. The boy was standing at a urinal taking a piss. There was only one urinal, so Tomas went into the stall and emptied his bladder. The boy was washing his hands when Tomas finished. "Hey," Tomas said. "Hi," the boy replied. "You at Sprinfgield Middle School?" Tomas asked. "Yeah." "Me, too. Seventh grade." Tomas tried to slow down washing his hands. Maybe if he could prolong the conversation... "Me, too," the boy said. "But you look older." Tomas got this reaction a lot. He knew he looked more like an eighth grader. "See ya," the boy said, and he turned and walked out the door. Tomas sighed. Guy was kind of plain looking, but in a cute sort of way, he thought. Wonder what he'd look like if he smiled. He found out when he went down the steps outside. The guy was standing there by the bike rack with a big grin on his face. "Hey, look..." he started out. Tomas realized that the grin was the kind of grin you get sometimes when you're very nervous. "Look," the kid tried again, "I'm sorry about... ah, in there. I mean, you were trying to be friendly and I... well, I suck at being friendly..." He looked at the ground for a minute, then he turned and started to walk away. "Hold on!" Tomas called. "Hey, wait a minute." He got his bike and ran with it to catch up to the boy. "What do you mean, you suck at being friendly? Hey, what's your name, anyway? I'm Tomas. Tomas Morales." "You a Mex? I'm Richard Roth." "No," Tomas said with exaggerated intensity. "I'm Mexican-American, Richard. Some people say 'Latino.' If they want to insult us, they say 'Mex. Or, even better, 'wetbacks.'" "Aw, shit man... Tomas." Richard reddened. "Sorry, man, I wasn't thinking. I mean, I didn't mean... I mean..." Tomas grinned at the way Richard had become tongue-tied, and Richard soon grinned with him. "It's okay, Richard. I grew up with Superman and Spiderman, just like you did. We're no different." Richard's laughter dried up quickly, and a sour look spread across his face. "Um... I think maybe we are different..." Richard scraped the ground with his shoe as they walked along. "I always got picked on where we used to live because I was different." Richard stopped and looked off into the distance. "I've always been picked on. Got used to it, I guess. It'll be the same here. I can't hide it, and I don't really care anymore." He turned and faced Tomas. "See, I just don't like some of the things everybody else likes. I like some... sissy sutff, they called it. You know, long-hair music. Besides," and his words came a little faster, "I'm a Jew. That's it. Everybody knows it. Or they did where we used to live. That's all it takes for some people. Guess it will be that way here, too. I'm different, and you don't want to be seen hanging around me." They were entering the city park, and Tomas stopped for a drink at the water fountain. Richard walked on. Tomas caught up with him. "Sit down a minute." Tomas sounded as though he were giving an order, and Richard stopped in his tracks. Tomas motioned him over to a bench. Richard sat down in a slouch, his long legs stretched out in front of him. "What makes you think I wouldn't want to hang around with you just because you're a Jew?" Tomas asked. "Cause nobody does. Everybody stays away like you've got the plague." "How old are you, anyway?" Tomas asked. "12," Richard said. "I'm 13." He saw the question on Richard's face. "Got held back a grade. See, people thought I was dumb, but they didn't really know me." Tomas waited a minute to see if his remark would sink in. "Once they got to know me, they found out I was okay. Maybe if people get to know you..." "I'd still be a Jew. Who likes sissy music," Richard finished for him. "You feel like you don't belong, like you stick out like a sore thumb, like they can see it in your eyes, like there's a sign around your neck that says, 'I'm a Jew." Tomas ran all his words together, speaking fast so he wouldn't stop. Richard stared at him. "Yeah," Tomas said. "I know how it feels." He did, too. He wasn't talking about being Jewish or liking "sissy" things. He was talking about being gay. He'd known he was gay for a long time, but he had never admitted it to a friend around his own age. Tomas took a deep breath. He nervously ran his fingers through his thick black hair. "I know how you feel, because I feel it, too." He stopped before he went too far. "I mean, see, I'm different, too," he continued. "I'm older by a year. I'm sort of a loner, I guess. You get good grades, some kids avoid you. And you think I don't know that some guys call me a 'wetback?'" He shrugged. Richard was speechless for a minute. "You? You... But, you're... I've seen you play with the team; you're one of the jocks. The jocks are top of the heap!" "Hey, maybe jocks don't have it so easy sometimes. You ever think of that?" He hesitated. Richard had no idea how alienated he felt sometimes, Tomas thought. He bristled at the notion that someone was making assumptions about him. But at the same moment he realized that the lonely guy he'd met in the library needed a real friend, he'd also realized the same was true for him. He'd adjusted, he thought, to his loneliness. But he really hadn't. Nobody really wants to be alone, completely isolated. It was still a new school for him, too, in the seventh grade. Maybe it was time to be a friend to make a friend. "So," Tomas continued, "a couple of seventh graders could hang out together. You think? A Jew and a wetback?" Richard looked at him through suspicious eyes. "This is a trick. You and those jocks want a jewboy to trounce, to punch around..." "No trick, Richard," Tomas said quietly. "This is just me." Richard sat up straight and pulled away, toward the end of the bench. "I don't trick so easy -- I've learned to take care of myself by just staying away..." "Oh, shit!" Tomas stood up and tried to keep his voice down. "You are an asshole. No wonder they wanted to trounce you!" He stopped. What an awful thing to say to a guy. Especially this guy. "Look..." he started. "Hell, no..." Richard stopped. He shook the temptation out of his head. "They got me in a john last year at home and pissed on me -- they got off pissing on the jewboy." Richard got up off the bench and stalked off angrily. Tomas sat there a moment, as angry with himself as Richard apparently was. His mouth had run off at the wrong moment, to the wrong guy. He sighed and mounted his bike. He had intended to ride straight home, but there was no hurry, since his mom would be at work. He decided to ride his anger off. Besides, the exercise would keep him in shape. In shape! Maybe being seen as a hunk at school isn't such a great thing, he thought. It makes people pay attention to you, and that's not always a good thing. He remembered the girl in the sixth grade who had bragged to her girlfriends that she would make the best looking boy in school, Tomas, her boyfriend. Then, when managed to make her understand he wasn't interested, she started calling him a "dirty Mex" to her friends, saying she wanted no part of him. The girls look, the guys look. The damn teachers pay more attention to you if you look nice. He stood slightly to begin pumping up a long hill. He wished he had a huge wart on his nose, a deformed mouth, and ears twice the size they should be! Then nobody would look. People would look away, and he could feel... safer. If they didn't pay attention, they wouldn't need to know he was gay. It's not that I'm afraid, he thought. He was grunting a bit with effort as he came closer to the top of the hill, his body thrust forward a bit from the hips, his strong arms gripping the handlebars, his thighs and calves aching from the effort. I'm gay. Known that since I was a kid. I'll be that for the rest of my life, and that's okay. But I don't need to go looking for trouble. Arriving finally at the top of hill, he stopped and took a deep breath. He wanted to scream at the top of his lungs, "I'm gay! Leave me alone!" But after resting for a moment, he turned back to coast down the hill toward home. Richard is asking for it, he thought. He shouldn't be so willing to accept being... well, being not accepted, not now in the seventh grade! Not when he's twelve! What kind of experience could Richard have at school if everybody avoided him, called him names... But it seems he's made up his mind, Tomas thought. He announces it like he's challenging people! Like he's daring them to... to trounce him! Better to keep your mouth shut. Okay, be a loner. But better to be a loner than a kid who gets beaten up every day! As he coasted back into the park, he decided to stop long enough to take a piss in the public toilet. He parked his bike at the back of the building and entered. As with most public toilets, it wasn't especially clean, but it was functional. He went up to one of the urninals, unzipped, and pulled his dick out through the soft briefs he liked to wear. He stood for only a moment, and then his stream started. Good thing I stopped, he thought. Hard to ride a bike when your bladder's busting. He watched the blunt tip of his dick as it spewed it's yellow spray. He grinned for a second at the memory of one of the guys on the team pissing in the shower a couple of days ago. Everybody had yelled and laughed, but a couple of them joined him. Tomas had just ignored it. He shook his dick and watched the last couple of drops fall. He hated the damp in his briefs if he left a little in his dick. He stroked his dick from the base of the shaft to just below his cockhead, urging all of his piss out. His dick began to stiffen just a bit. It always did. As he shoved his dick back into his pants, he heard a shuffling sound. Must be someone in one of those filthy stalls, he thought. He looked over at the wooden wall that separated the first stall from the urinals and noticed something he'd never seen before. There was a small hole, just the size of a small coin in the wall, and he could see movement behind it! Someone was watching him! That was all it took to restoke his anger. Thirteen years old or not, he could tell that fucker off with change left over! He stormed over to the stall door and yanked it open. It had been locked, but he'd pulled the eye for the hook out of the wood. "What the fuck...?" It was Richard! Richard was seated on the stool, his pants down halfway to his ankles, and his dick in his hand. His eyes showed his shock at being discovered, and his dick, already wilting a bit, showed just what Richard had been up to. "You were watching me! You were jacking off and watching me!" Tomas was so angry he hit the wooden wall with his fist. "You fucker..." He was stopped by the look on Richard's face. Richard was pale, scared. He was frightened to death. What did he expect Tomas was going to do? Pound on him? Tomas froze in place. Pound on a guy who was so horny he'd taken to spying in a filthy public toilet? He stood, watching, as Richard hastily pulled up his pants, embarrassed so much he couldn't say anything. But Tomas blocked the door. "Jeeeeeze, Richard! Is this how... You could be in so much trouble... Damn, Richard. What if I'd been some crazy guy who'd be ready to beat the shit out of you? Get your ass out here!" He stepped to the side and let Richard out of the stall and followed him out the door of the building. But he grabbed the back of Richard's shirt and pulled him around to the back of the building. Richard was sputtering. "I'm not a queer, asshole! Leave me alone!" When Tomas let loose of his shirt, Richard took a fighting stance, his arms up. But there was still fear in his eyes. "For shit's sake, man," Tomas said. "I'm not going to do anything. But you can't do this, man. You can't use a public toilet to jack off!." He stopped. "Shit!" Richard's voice was low but full of anger. "I just... I've never done that before... I only..." As his arms slowly lowered, he looked downward. Tomas felt funny inside when he saw how dejected Richard was. A little empty. A little pang. A little... sorrow. Who was this strange boy? "I've never done that before. You got to believe me... Look," and Richard's assertiveness became a plea, "please don't tell anybody... please don't..." Richard was looking down at the floor, and then, without raising his eyes, he turned quickly and hurried away. Oh, shit, Richard thought. It was all he could do to keep from breaking into a run to get away from the embarrassment of it all. Oh, shit. He thinks I'm queer. It's just to jack off... I just want a quick jack off, and it's my luck to have it be him, to have him see me! And now he thinks... I'm queer... Tomas watched Richard move around a bend in the trail and disappear from sight. He didn't know what to think of what had just happened. Okay, he thought. So the guy gets a little turned on by being in a toilet. Who knows what was written on the damned wall! If there was a hole... well, a curious guy might just look. Maybe. And it had to be me! Hell of a way to meet a new friend. Tomas kicked the ground in frustration, retrieved his bike, and headed on home. His mother had left some supper he could warm in the microwave, and he ate quickly. He went into his room and sat at the card table he used when he did his homework. History first. That was only reading. Then that English assignment. A report on a short story they'd just read. And that was where he lost his concentration. His mind kept wandering back to the library, the park, the public restroom. Who was that strange boy? He talked like he had a brain between his ears, and he acted like he made his decisions with his little head instead of his big head. Tomas thought back to less than a year ago when he was finally able to cum for real. Yeah, he admitted to himself, I've jacked off at school, in the restroom, in a stall, just because... well, because he could. Not many in the sixth grade could! He'd loved playing with his dick since he was seven, and finally being able to cum just seened to make him horny all the time. Is that the way it was with Richard? He's a year younger, Tomas realized. Can he cum? A lot of guys are horny all the time, and maybe Richard was one of them. Was Richard gay? Tomas put his books away and got ready for bed. He pulled down the top sheet and lay naked with his hands clasped behind his head. Unless he was really tired, he usually started naked, got his nuts off, and then pulled his briefs back on before he heard his mother's car in the drive. She usually knocked softly and opened the door just to make sure he was safely at home. He glanced down at the body stretched out on the bed. One hand went down to play with his ballsac, still smooth. His fingers touched his dick now and then, and it was rock-hard quickly. He brushed the fingers of his other hand through the little nest of dark pubes that had begun to appear at the base of his dick, and then his hand went lower, his fingers toying with the soft skin underneath his balls. Richard probably didn't have hair down there. All Tomas could remember was a quick glimpse of his dick, but he was pretty sure there wasn't any hair. He'd looked pretty hard when Tomas had first yanked the door open. Maybe about four inches? Of course, it wilted immediately when Richard realized he'd been caught! Tomas spread his legs wide, bending them at the knee. His finger burrowed lower into the beginning of his crack. The skin was so smooth there, and always so warm. He found the puckered hole, and he slowly slid the pad of his finger around it. He sighed. His other hand began a slow and steady tapping on his dick as it lay against his belly, with his fingers tapping on the underside of his dick, on the big tube inside. Tapping his fingers quickly as though he were tapping a rhythm on a tabletop. One-two-three-four. One-two-three-four. He raised his other hand to his mouth and sucked on his forefinger. When it was thoroughly wet he replaced it at his hole. He pressed the pad of his finger -- one-two-three-four -- against the pucker and pushed. He entered himself, just to the first knuckle. One-two-three-four. That small distance was enough to make his cock throb more as it bounced against his fingers -- one-two-three-four. His ass was smooth inside, tight, slick. He raised his legs into the air a bit so he could reach inside himself even farther. He curled his finger upward, as though he were calling someone to come over to him, and his finger tip hit the place. His walnut. His prostate. So hard inside him, though it was surrounded by all that soft flesh in his ass. He shivered in pleasure. He slowly fingerfucked himself, pulling his finger just to the lips of his asshole before pushing it back in again and massaging that hard nut inside. One-two-three-four. The fingers at his dick were more than tapping the underside now; they were almost slapping it back downward as it sought to throb even harder. One-two-three-four. He moaned. He continued his slow sensual torture of himself for a bit. Then the boy's sex gland inside tightened at bit, and he knew he would continue, not postpone the pleasure, let the orgasm take over his mind as it took over his body... He placed one finger of those that had been tapping/slapping at the underside of his dick just under his glans, right at the "Y" underneath his dickhead. He let that finger press his cock back onto his belly and then massage just that one little place. The finger inside felt the tension of his prostate as he massaged it, felt it harden, even as his dick hardened more. Without looking he knew he was leaking precum; he could feel it dripping onto his belly. He couldn't keep his pleasure inside any more. He didn't want to keep his pleasure inside any more. "Ahhhhhh..." Tomas sighed loudly. This was it! He grabbed his cockhead between his forefinger and thumb and gave himself to the pumping aciton all boys learn sooner or later. And the finger on his walnut inside felt the little wall of muscle there become as tight and hard as steel. Just as his prostate clenched to send his first shot of cum outward, he pressed his finger on that gland deep inside, and the pleasure/pain shot from it outward to his cock, upward through his shaft... It burst from his cocklips... "Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh..." ...as his prostate clenched a second time, his finger encouraging it's tight convulsion, and his second shot exploded into the air. His cum was now so intense he sat up on the bed as though he had been yanked up, bending over, and he shoved his ass toward the finger moving deep inside him. "Ooooooooooo..." And his third shot hit his cheek just to the right of his lips. He fell back onto the bed. He let his ass expell the finger that had been working there as he enjoyed the after-glow of one of his intense orgasms. He exhaled slowly. He didn't need to look down; his fingers found the two puddles of cum on his belly, and he licked at it. It wasn't a lot, he knew. Not like he'd be able to shoot soon. But it was the sweet dessert to a great experience of sex. He smiled and felt the few drops on his cheek. He moved his tongue out but had to use his fingers to collect them and bring them in where he could enjoy them. Tomas lay still for a while, but before he let sleep overcome him he reached for his briefs and pulled them up. He rolled over onto his stomach and grasped his pillow in his arms, pulling it to his head. He slept. The darkness in the room and the natural dark complexion of the boy contrasted with the white of the cotton briefs pulled across his ass. Gradually, the moon moved so its light entered and fell across the boy. His ass was so starkly white now it was almost florescent.