December 12, 1994
The end of the trimester was a week away, as was winter break. The nice part about the trimester system, I suppose, was that we had a two-week break at Christmas, and a two-week spring break, and you got to start a new trimester fresh after the holiday.
But what it meant now was studying. A lot of studying. Eric asked me to come over and help him memorize the layers of the atmosphere. I was still a little upset about what happened in Cory’s garage. Was I jealous? I mean, it’s not like Eric started hanging out with Andy all the time and ignored me. If anything, I was the one being moody. I think it just bothered me and I didn’t know why. More than anything, we didn’t have any time or space to wrestle. I had been introduced to something amazing, and only was able to do it with him once.
We got to Eric’s house, and said hi to his mom. “Can we listen to the tape that Cassie gave me while we study? The Dana Carvey one?” he asked.
“You can take breaks and listen to it,” his mom said. “Dana Carvey isn’t going to help you with your science homework.” Eric reluctantly agreed.
“What’s the tape?” I asked after we went upstairs to Eric’s room and unpacked our books.
“My cousin’s boyfriend got it, I guess, from someone who went to one of his shows. He’s touring all over the country, and someone recorded his show. She said he had to wear boots in order to sneak the tape out,” Eric said.
“Whoa, cool,” I said. “But why?”
“I don’t know, she said he had to put the recorder in his boot leg or something like that. I’ve listened to it at least 10 times, it’s hilarious! Choppin’ broccoli!” Eric sang. He loaded the cassette into a wood-tone, top-loading tape player that had to be at least 10 years old, but didn’t press play.
We put our heads down on the atmosphere. “All the spheres sound the same,” he complained.
“We have to list them in order. Let’s think of a mnemonic device,” I said.
“What’s that?” Eric asked.
“You make a funny sentence with the same first letters as the things you need to remember. Here: OK.” I took out the worksheet with what we had to memorize for the oral exam:
- Troposphere
- Stratosphere
- Mesosphere
- Thermosphere
- Exosphere
“T, S, M, T, E,” I said. “The … snow … man … turns … eight. Bleh,” I said.
“This … situation … makes … things … extra,” Eric said. “Extra what? Doesn’t work.” he concluded.
“Trying … straddling … makes … thingy … erect?” I suggested, giggling. “That way you have “trying” and “troposphere” and “thingy” and “thermosphere.” Eric started giggling too.
“Try straddling me, then ejaculate,” Eric said triumphantly.
“Yes! That’s it!” I exclaimed quietly, mindful of making too much noise with Eric’s parents home. We both dissolved into quiet laughter.
We reviewed more of what would be on the test, and tried to think of more mnemonics. The three kinds of rocks — igneous, sedementary, and metamorphic — became JISM: Just I, S, and M. Eric started condensing his notes into three-by-five cards. For each subject, we could reference the cards during the written test, so everyone tried to cram as much as possible on the single side we were allowed to use.
“I think my brain is full,” Eric sighed, after filling a fifth card with tiny handwriting. “And my hand hurts,” he added.
I sighed.
“Hey, so who peed in your Cheerios lately?” Eric asked. “This is the most you’ve talked all week.”
“I keep thinking about what happened in Cory’s garage,” I said.
“Yeah, I felt kind of bad that you were the only one left out,” Eric said. He leaned in close and whispered, “You could have jerked off, like Cory did.”
“No, it’s not that,” I whispered back. “It was the way Andy was looking at me. It’s like, he wanted to get back at me for something.”
Eric thought, and he sighed. “I think Andy’s still pissed about that time I told him what we did, and he’s … I don’t know, he’s being a bitch about it.” Eric waited a beat. “Let’s not let Andy ruin the fun we’re having. We can have fun together, and we can have fun as a group, and if you’re OK with it, I’m OK with it. I’ll be careful about what I share.”
“I’m OK with it,” I said, feeling slightly better knowing that Eric had at least thought it through. “But I think I like having fun with you better than as a group,” I said. We both shifted in our seats as we thought about what “having fun” meant.
“I really want to wrestle you right now,” Eric said, his whisper even quieter. “I can’t think straight. But my bed squeaks so much that my parents would hear and break down the door about the noise. I want to try what we did last time, but with you on top.”
I looked at Eric’s bedside clock. It was 4:19. Plenty of time before dinner, Eric’s parents are probably watching the news and wouldn’t come in unannounced. “I want to too. We could take a break and put on the Dana Carvey tape,” I suggested.
“That little tape player can’t play loud enough to cover the bed sounds,” Eric explained. “Feel how hard I am,” he added suddenly, grabbing my hand and pulling it into his crotch. He spread his thighs apart. It startled me and I flinched, but when I felt how big and hard his cock was … I had to admit that I liked how forward he was being about it.
“Feel mine,” I said back, trying to match his energy. Eric reached for my hard shaft, circling his fingers around it outside my pants. I flinched again. “Don’t jack me off, you’re gonna make me cum,” I said with an impossible-to-conceal grin. Eric locked eyes with me. “Can we do it on the floor?”
“With all the thumping? My parents would be up here in a second telling us to be quiet,” he said, sighing.
“No, I mean … maybe I just pin you, and we … do it … quietly. We get naked, I pin you down, we cum, we clean up, and we can focus again.” I paused for a beat. “Put on the tape,” I said. Eric looked at his door, and saw that it was cracked. It was risky.
Eric nodded, his expression excited but also anxious, his eyes darting to the door. He stood up, and closed it silently. He turned and pulled his shoes off first, followed by his shorts and underwear. I mirrored Eric’s actions, and we both pulled off our t-shirts last, our bobbing erections pronounced in front of us. He was nodding the whole time, licking his lips. He walked back over to where I was, and started to lay down. “Shit,” he hissed suddenly. “No lotion,” he breathed.
“It’s OK, I want to try something,” I said. I knelt in front of Eric, licking my lips too. Just like the boys in Cory’s garage, I started by tonguing the length of Eric’s shaft. It tasted like … skin, really. I wasn’t sure what I was expecting. I took his head in my mouth, closing my lips around it, my tongue swirling around it, tasting every crevice —
“Not too much, I don’t want to cum this way,” Eric said, pulling his hips back and his cock out of my mouth. “I mean, it feels good, but I … just want you on top of me,” he said, the last part coming out as a little whine. “Here, let me do you,” he said.
I nodded, and we switched positions. Eric didn’t bother licking — he took my cock in his mouth and suckled gently. I immediately saw what he meant: it felt incredible and it would have been ridiculously easy to cum this way. He got my cock good and wet, and released me. “OK,” he said. I gave him a little room to lay down in the empty space next to his bed. I stepped over him, a foot on either side of his hips, and lowered myself down. “Try straddling me, then ejaculate,” Eric teased. I shushed him, and we giggled softly.
I put him in a schoolboy pin for starters, and felt our cocks touch. I interlaced our fingers, pinning his wrists next to his ears, just like last time. On top, I had a lot more control over how much pressure I could put on his cock, and also how fast I could grind against him. I wasn’t sure yet what I liked better. But I started to hump Eric’s cock with mine, and we squirmed together, finding a rhythm. Dana Carvey echoed deep in the background of a club somewhere, doing a Jimmy Stewart impression, his voice tinny from the little mono speaker. We were silent, and Eric strained his ears to make sure nobody was coming up the stairs.
Our breathing deepened. I realized that, on top, I wasn’t as immediately close to cumming as I was when Eric was on top of me. But I could tell from Eric’s expression that maybe he was closer than I was. I laid my chest down on Eric’s, feeling our bodies connect completely. Eric corkscrewed his legs around mine, echoing what I did weeks ago.
“This feels so good, Bobby,” Eric whispered urgently, then grunted. His body spasmed as he came, and I felt fresh wet heat on my cock grinding against his. I pressed Eric down into the floor as his legs held me tight against him. Eric panted, and I smiled down at him, our noses almost touching. “I see why you like being pinned. Did you cum?” he asked.
“Not yet,” I said.
“Roll over, quick” Eric said, and we worked together to roll onto my back with Eric on top of me. Eric squished his wet cock against mine, pushing my hands down into the carpet and himself up into a cobra position. That’s what finally put me over the edge. I moaned, but quietly, kind of like a whispered long hhhhhh sound. My cock throbbed, pleasure flooding through my body as I came, my cum mixing with Eric’s and squirting out onto my tummy.
Eric collapsed on top of me, and we de-interlaced our fingers. He tapped twice lightly on the floor, and hopped up off me. “Good?” he asked, standing on my foot and offering me a hand up. I looked at his tummy, wet with white syrup.
“So good,” I said, standing. “Let’s get cleaned up.”
It’s a wonder that Eric’s parents were never the wiser. We went back to studying, and I went home for dinner. We both got As on the both oral and written finals.
That, dear reader, was the beginning of Eric and I getting very good at — well — we called it “wrestling,” the thing we did on the floor. When either of us really wanted to wrestle, as in the athletic activity, we would qualify it with, “you know, really wrestle,” even though that most often resulted in boners, grinding and cumming, too.
I should say more precisely it’s not that we got good at it, but we got very efficient at it. Not the next day but the day after, we were studying at my house, and risked doing it again: No Dana Carvey to mask the sound. Since my bed didn’t squeak as much, we climbed up there. We didn’t completely undress — we just took of our pants and underwear, and we got a washcloth ready for cleaning up afterward. I don’t want to suggest that it got routine, either: Our hearts were pounding the entire time in anticipation of the orgasm, but also at the risk of getting caught. We both liked being on the bottom, but if we were pressed for time, Eric knew he could get me to cum faster if I was on top.
Later we would try variations — for example, once we tried it standing up in the bathroom, and while we both came, it was a lackluster experience we wouldn’t repeat. And, of course, Eric’s parents still had Rotary once a month where we had the house to ourselves. We would really wrestle then — Eric taking particular joy in high jumps and cradles, anything to knock or pull me onto my back and get in close contact. With more practice, it would take us longer and longer to get hard, but hard we would get, and sweaty too. We always tried to wrestle both ways, but all things being equal, the kind that ended in an orgasm for the both of us was always the best.
The variation that I liked the most we discovered at my house during winter break when we knew my parents were occupied with some minor desert-winter landscaping project in the backyard. “I have an idea,” I said. “It won’t take long, I just want to see if it’s possible. Lay back on the bed,” I said.
“Pants down?” Eric asked, and I nodded. He pulled of his pants and underwear in one swoop, and hopped back on the bed, his not-quite-fully-erect cock following him with a flop. I pulled my pants and shorts off too, and climbed up the bed, ogling his thickening cock and smooth thighs. Straddling his legs, I bent down, taking his head in my mouth. We had a little bit of a system where Eric would tell me when he was hard enough and not quite to the point of no return, and he would touch my hair. I felt his fingers and knew he was ready.
“OK,” I said, scooting up to where I usually would be if we were wrestling, but I went a little further, my cock pressing into his tummy, and I spread my feet apart. I took his cock, wet with my spit, and closed my thighs around it, locking my ankles. “How does that feel?” I asked, laying my body on top of his.
“Different,” he said. “But I think I like it.” He started to thrust up into my thighs. “Tighter,” he said. I flexed my quads as tight as I could. “Yeah, good,” he said, continuing to roll his hips. I rubbed my erection against his tummy, but I knew immediately that I probably wouldn’t cum that way.
Hopefully Eric would. “Do you think you can cum?” I asked.
Eric nodded. “Gimme a second,” he said. We kept at it, our young bodies writhing against one another. Surprisingly, his hands went to my butt cheeks and squeezed, my glutes flexed to the max to keep Eric’s cock trapped tight between my thighs. His grip was stronger than I thought it was going to be, and it felt good. “Yeah, yeah,” he grunted urgently, and his core flexed, cum shooting between my quads. I kept them flexed while I felt rivulets of his jizz follow gravity down my thigh.
“Holy crap, that felt great,” Eric said as I came up into cobra position to see his reaction. “Maybe that’s what real sex feels like? It would be great if you could cum at the same time,” he said. I watched his eyes dart back and forth, not in a nervous way, but like he was looking at me … curiously. “Do you want to try it?” I nodded and grinned.
I came up to straddling and we cleaned up with the towel we had ready, except I stole a little bit of Eric’s cum for lube on my cock, which was practically purple with excitement. I climbed off Eric and rolled onto my back, Eric straddled my hips and scooted up a little to find the right position. I spread my feet apart, and he nestled between my legs. “Try locking your ankles and flexing,” I suggested, now that I was the expert on intracrural sex. He did, and an electric shock of pleasure shot through my shaft and into my core.
The cum made the motion smooth, and extremely satisfying. I looked up as Eric’s head was above mine, and I could see him grinning, his hands pressed into the mattress, holding himself up off my chest. I thrusted up into his grip, and he flexed in time with my thrusts, which was a new addition I loved. I did what Eric did and grabbed his butt right where each cheek met a thigh, and gripped. Eric giggled, and collapsed on top of me, breathing hard.
My forehead was pressed into his neck, and my voice was a little muffled when I said I was cumming. The electric shock from earlier turned into a tidal wave of endorphins through my body as I came hard — harder than I expected — the jets of cum never quite turning into an oozy river. My cock throbbed for a full minute, I figure, and it was still pulsing when Eric climbed off me. “How did that feel for you?” he asked.
“I’m still cumming,” I chuckled, pointing to my still-throbbing shaft.
“I think that’s one to save for Rotary nights,” Eric said with a grin. “I see a new way to pin you in your future.”