Date: Thu, 12 Nov 2015 23:17:30 +0000
From: Jack Ladd <jackladd89@gmail.com>
Subject: Oscar, Part 2

Oscar, Part 2

Lying on Adam's bed, his gloopy, salty fingers sliding out of my mouth as
billions of his finest swimmers plummeted to the depths of my stomach, and
my own congealed in my belly button, wasn't the last time I'd feel the
sharp prickles of fear burn over my body after taking a load.

But, I have to admit, it's up there with the scariest.

Straightening himself upright his face became partially hidden in
darkness. His body tensed. The room went silent. Something primal inside of
me jolted awake. Uh oh.

`What the fuck are you doing, you filthy faggot?'

Now don't get me wrong; I'd heard those words before. Especially the last
one. Those delightful six letters would always manage to find their way to
my ears at break or lunch, or from cars of lads to and from school. And
online, of course.

I quickly learned that while those chat windows of infinite possibilities
were perfect for boys to hang their dirty laundry and stop it from
gathering mould and stinking out their minds, they could often be stained
with unkindness. But only after they'd had their fun.

When it was all over and reality came crashing back fear would be
waiting. They'd be petrified of their fantasies, now transformed into
inescapable black facts on white screens, shuddering violently at the chill
of truth once the winds of climax recede and secrets glare out from more
than one screen.

You get the picture.

As I've said before, logic's your friend in these situations, usually gift
wrapped in straight boy slang and guarantees like "I promise I'll delete
the convo" or `I don't want to fuck up our fun, man". I promise,
bro. Dude. Mate. That'll result in a repeat performance of the good stuff,
or at least no more faces or fists to avoid by the lockers.

But without the QWERTY line of defence it's infinitely more
confronting. Especially when he's your size and a half, height and width,
with fists like bricks and pinning you down with his entire body. You have
to think very carefully about what you do next.

And what's that they say about fight and flight? When you can't do one you
do the other, right?

In an instant my upper lip raised in a snarl, adrenaline pumped through my
veins and my fists clenched shut. My eyes darted to his flesh. He was close
enough that I could sink my teeth into somewhere very sensitive and very
delicate and he certainly wouldn't want to inadvertently clamp my jaw any
tighter.

But a lot can happen in half a second of reaction time. He could move. He
could punch me before I even tried. If I could at least do maximum damage
before the untold carnage to my face began, I thought to myself, I would
wake happy. If I woke.

To my relief it was all for nothing. Adam, it seemed, liked to play
games. I should have seen it coming. He was the captain of the rugby team
after all.

`Get the fuck off me.'

`Whoa, Oscar, buddy, I'm kidding.'

`Don't call me buddy.'

`Look, honestly, I'm joking.'

And he was. Or at least when he gently pushed me back onto the mattress,
shuffled towards my feet, put two hands either side of my waist and licked
every one of my abs clean with his big, flat tongue, it was a pretty
convincing performance.

`Trust me now?' he said looking up with a glazed grin before wiping his
mouth with the back of his hand.

In the panic, for a moment, I'd forgotten where and who I was with. But
from that angle, in the lamplight, past my chest rising and falling slower
and slower as my heart calmed and my extra testosterone fizzled into
embarrassment; past my abdomen glistening with his saliva, I remembered.

Damn he was handsome. His eyes were stunning. They really had been
twinkling under the light in his hallway. And while in the gentle glow of
his bedroom the blue was almost gone, the gleam was not. I couldn't stay
angry at that face, no matter how stupid it was.

He'd missed a spot.

`You've still got some on you,' I said, sitting up, leaning in, putting a
hand around his neck and pulling him down so I could kiss his lower lip
clean. I returned the favour. Then I tightened my grip and punched him hard
in the stomach.

He tensed his powerful abs in time and they effortlessly stopped my fist in
its tracks. He grinned.

`I deserved that,' he said.

Pushing me back down and himself backwards to standing he pulled his
tracksuit trousers back up, whipping the waistband against himself. His
deflating cock still made an impressive mound.

For a minute we said nothing. Him standing. Me sitting. Him grinning like
an idiot. Me savouring his flavour all through my mouth; on my tongue, in
between my teeth. Both shirtless. Both pleased with ourselves.

It was me that broke the silence by picking up his box of
goodies. Click-click went the plastic blue fasteners on each side of the
lid. From the smell I could tell it was good weed. Sickly sweet it crumbled
nicely between my fingers. I rolled a joint, sat up against his headboard
and lit it.

`Almost as good as mine,' he said, sliding in next to me through the fresh
haze. Our bare shoulders and feet touched. Both faces faced forward, at
least one too preoccupied to register what it was looking at. Too many
distractions for the other senses.

`In your wet dreams,' I said, passing over the joint before draining the
dregs of my beer I'd put on the bedside table. It was warm but still
tasty. Everything at Adam's was.

`For a moment I thought you really were gonna smack me there.'

`Yeah, I'm sorry. It was stupid of me.'

`It's alright. It was kinda funny.'

`Yeah?'

`Kinda'

`Yeah, sorry again.'

`All good man.'

He passed the joint back and I took two full drags. We kept eye contact the
whole time. There was more to this guy than I thought.

`I wasn't expecting that,' I said eventually.

`What? You and me?'

`No. I knew that would happen.'

`Fuck off.'

`Nah, come on, of course I did.'

`How?'

`It's not like I predicted the exact outcome, but I'm no idiot. You think
you're the only guy to add me on MSN since everyone found out–'

`You suck dick in bowling alley toilets?'

I took a long drag of the joint, held it in for three counts and blew it,
slowly, in his face. He didn't move. Didn't even flinch. He just stared,
smirking through the fog a foot from my lips, until I passed him the joint
again.

`He sucked my dick, alright? But yeah, since everyone found out. I didn't
expect you to be so cool with it.'

`Cool with what?'

`Being like me.'

`Like you?'

`Being a filthy faggot.'

`Oh. Right.'

`Yeah. Most guys aren't as ok with it. They're nervous. It's kinda hot
sometimes.'

I laughed and turned, but he wasn't smiling. He looked sad.

Taking two more drags he dropped the joint in his own almost finished
bottle. The sizzle of the extinguishing cherry echoed up the neck and
lingered in the air alongside its final wisps of heavy grey.

`I'm not gay,' he said.

`Sure you're not,' I said gesturing to my stomach, crusting slightly under
an invisible layer of dried saliva and cum.

`I'm not,' he said turning his body to me. He rested his head in his hand,
propped up by his elbow on the mattress. `I'm bi.'

`Really?'

`What's that supposed to mean?'

`You're not the first guy to tell me that either.'

Although, in his defence, he was the first I believed. I'm not entirely
sure why. Call it intuition, or a gut reaction. Pun intended. Or maybe it
was just the look in his eyes. Lost. Unsure. I shifted my position to match
his. Our noses were almost touching.

He said nothing.

`You alright?'

`No one's ever going to believe me.'

`I believe you.'

`No you don't.'

`Adam, mate, I do. I'm sorry I didn't take you seriously but come on, can
you blame me?'

`I guess not.'

`Why so sad?'

`I'm not sad. It's just fucked up. If two girls make out they're not
automatically branded dykes for the rest of their lives. But if a guy likes
lads as well as girls then he's just gay. That's it. Nothing else.'

`It's not so bad, you know?'

`You wouldn't understand.'

Get a grip you fucking pussy. Is what I wanted to say. Even though I didn't
blame any of them for staying in the closet, it didn't mean I had any
patience when they came bitching about their lives to me. I didn't choose
when to come out. I didn't have that luxury.

Instead I said, `Society's fucked up, man.'

`True.'

`So, when did you know?'

`That I liked guys too?'

`Yeah.'

`Remember Mr Price?'

`How could I forget?'

How could anyone forget Mr Price is Right? Hands down the sexiest sports
teacher our school ever had. Six-foot-two, late twenties, hairy legs
always, always on show under tiny rugby shorts no matter the
weather. Shaved head, green eyes, strong jaw, big arms. Perfection.

Then one day he went crazy. Literally started screaming at the pigeons in
the courtyard. No one knows what happened to him. Or so I thought.

`Right?'

`No.'

He nodded, sucking in air between his teeth.

`You lucky fuck,' I said. Now we're talking. `When?'

`Year nine.'

`What, you were fourteen?'

`Fifteen, but even then I looked about twenty.'

`True.'

`At first he was just a good teacher. I was already his height and still
growing so he must have known I was a natural for rugby. He'd give me extra
pointers after school and would drive me home. To be honest I thought he
fancied my mum.'

`But?'

`But then one afternoon after practice I got a call from home. My grandad
had fallen over and was in the hospital. He was fine but I'd gone outside
to take the call and it lasted for ages. By the time I got back there was
no one else in the changing rooms except for him.'

I pictured it. Row after row of metal benches in a foggy, muddy room. White
tiled walls wet with condensation from the showers. Mr Price's office in
the far right corner. I'd played rugby before, back when sport was a
compulsory subject. I knew how it would have looked. How it would have
smelt and how it would have felt; the heat from twenty or so sweaty lads
still radiating in the air.

`He was at his computer with his back to me. He didn't hear me come in so I
just started to get undressed. Then I heard a woman moaning.'

`Porn.'

`Got it in one. He was jerking off.'

`What I would give.'

`Mate, it gets even better.'

`I'm all ears.'

His eyes lit up. He probably hadn't told this story to anyone before and he
was loving. And so was I. With empty balls my cock still twitched under my
Calvin Kleins.

`Back then I already knew there was something different about me. I
definitely liked girls, but sometimes in the showers I'd see one or two of
the lads and I'd start getting. You know.'

`Yeah man. I do.'

`Anyway, I crept forward like a ninja. I only had shorts on at this point
so it was easy. I got to the door frame and watched. I could see it
all. The bird on the screen getting fucked from behind by some giant cock,
Mr Price with his rugby shorts down by his ankles, his t-shirt lifted up to
his nipples, his cock in his hand, slowly beating himself off. It was
beautiful.'

`How big was he?'

`I dunno in inches but he was big. Bigger than me and mine was pretty big
back then I can assure you.'

`I wouldn't doubt it in a million years.'

He smiled and winked at me.

`You like this story?'

I did. Big time. I was already rubbing my hand over the rock solid bulge in
my jeans.

`It's alright.'

`You ain't heard nothing yet.'

`Keep going.'

`So I watched. Watched for ages. It was probably minutes but it felt like
hours. I was transfixed. I'd never dared to look at gay porn before and
there I was metres away from Mr fucking Price about to blow a nut all over
himself. But just when I thought he was about to shoot he stopped, paused
the video and said, without turning, "I know you're there matey".'

`No fucking way.'

`Yes, way.'

`What happened?'

`I froze like a statue. At first I considered grabbing my stuff and just
running, but I couldn't move. Thank fuck I didn't because by the time my
feet decided to start working he reached over to the spare chair with his
free hand and pulled it next to him.'

I knew exactly which chair he meant. I'd sat on it before. Mr Price always
had this big cushy black chair and I remember being in his office once, sat
on the uncomfortable green fabric bog standard spare and wishing I was on
his. On him to be precise. Now the shit chair suddenly seemed way more
appealing.

`He wanted you to join.'

`Yup. He just pulled it over and patted the top. Didn't say a word.'

`Tell me you joined him.'

`Of course I did. I didn't hesitate. I walked straight over, sat down and
pulled out my cock. He didn't even look at me he just pressed play.'

`Whoa.'

`Yeah it was hot. So hot. I had to slow down so many times. I wanted to
blow when he did. I kept looking at him from the corner of my eyes but he
never took his off the screen. He just pumped and pumped as this chick with
giant tits got smashed by some guy with tatts.'

`Shame.'

`That's what I thought. Until he was about to blow.'

`What happened?'

`His breath started getting heavier and his legs started tensing. At this
point it could have been EastEnders on the screen, I wasn't watching. I was
watching him. Watching his muscles flex and his arm work faster and
faster. Then he started making these deep, throaty grunts and I knew what
was coming.'

I closed my eyes and I could see him. Hear him. His shaved head rolling
back on his shoulders, his chest filling with air, every muscle in his legs
bulging like a bodybuilder.

`But, before he blew, he reached across with his free hand and clamped it
on my leg. Then he turned, stared straight into my eyes, dug his fingers
and thumb into my quads as hard as he could and unloaded himself all over
his stomach.'

My cock ached to be free. Free from my jeans and in my hand. I could feel
pre-cum soak through my underwear to my leg. But not yet. There was more.

`How big was his load?'

`Huge. It shot out of him and kept on pouring. It went all the way up his
stomach and on his shirt but he didn't care. He just squeezed my leg harder
and harder, staring straight at me.'

`Did you blow?'

`I didn't even need to touch myself. I was already so close when he grabbed
me. When I felt his hand, another bloke's hand, and then watched him
unleash his giant load from the biggest dick I'd ever seen, mine just
exploded. I didn't even know it could do that.'

For a few minutes neither of us said anything. We were lost in images. I
replayed every second of his story in my mind. I knew exactly how it would
have played out. He was no doubt relishing a memory relived. A secret
shared.

It was his turn to break the silence this time.

`Man, I'm fucking hard as a rock.'

`Me too.'

`What shall we do?'

`I have a few ideas.'

To be continued ...

Learn more about Jack Ladd and Oscar's adventures at www.jackladd.org
Copyright Jack Ladd 2015

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