Date: Thu, 6 May 2021 21:56:44 +0000
From: Matt Smith <matterotica@hotmail.co.uk>
Subject: Missed Opportunity

Author's Note: While I always welcome feedback and criticism, please be
aware that this is one of the few true stories I have ever shared on here,
so please be sensitive. You can contact me at matterotica@hotmail.co.uk

If you like my writing and want to support my erotic endeavours, please
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------------------------

Missed Opportunity

By Matt

I have never been good at picking up on other people's intentions. On the
bright side, someone can be insulting me and I'll be completely oblivious
to it or just think they're joking. The bad side, I am immune to
flirting. Guys (or girls, eww) can be throwing themselves at me and I just
figure they're either funny or just being nice.

While I have a very clever system in place now (if a friend sees someone is
flirting with me, they very bluntly say "he's flirting with you!") I didn't
have that in my youth and a lot of opportunities passed me by. This is the
story one such missed opportunity that managed to come back round again and
give me a second chance.

I went to an all-boys grammar school in Lincolnshire. Sadly, it's not as
much fun as it sounds because it was populated mostly by pretentious
douchebags and spoiled rich kids. I was neither rich nor pretentious (so
just a spoiled douchebag maybe), but in short, I never really fit in. There
were a few decent guys there and while we never really crossed the line
into `friends' we could at least sit together on classes and give the
impression we weren't the sad loners we were.

One of these boys was Jamie (name changed to protect his identity). Jamie
was... rough. I think that's the best way to put it. The primary school I
went to had been in a less affluent area and being well-spoken and
good-mannered, I never really seemed to fit, but Jamie would have felt
right at home. Maybe that makes me sound a bit snobby, but I don't mean it
in a bad way. He just had the kind of down-to-earth, everyday kind of guy
attitude that was sorely lacking in the rest of our class.

We were in Year 7, with me approaching twelve and Jamie half a year ahead
of me when the aforementioned `opportunity' presented itself. We were sat
in History class, right at the back. It was two boys to each desk, so the
nearest other boys were a few feet either side of us. I was sat there
listening to Mr Forgettable (not his actual name, but it may as well have
been) ramble on about World War One when I felt something on my leg.

I looked down to find Jamie's hand there. At first I thought he was just
trying to get my attention, but it quickly became apparent he was just
stroking it. I remember thinking, `Huh, that's nice!' and smiling at him
then let him carry on doing it without giving it much more thought. See, I
told you I was oblivious!

So skip forward to the next week, same class, same classroom, same seating
arrangement... hand on my leg again. So when I referred to this as `a
missed opportunity' I think I maybe should have called it `a dozen missed
opportunities.' That's right, it went on for the whole term. Jamie feeling
up my leg and me just smiling happily. Thinking back on it, I've gotta say,
bless him for his perseverance!

It never went further than him stroking my leg. Maybe it would have if it
had carried on a little longer, but sadly we never got the chance. We were
a few weeks into the second term and suddenly... Jamie was gone! Was he
expelled? It wouldn't have surprised me, he was always in trouble. Had he
just left? Again, wouldn't have been surprising, he was as unhappy there as
I was.

They never actually told us the reason. It sucked. I felt more alone than
ever. My lifelong battle with depression kicked in, but that's not what you
came here for and not the story I want to tell. I want to tell you about my
second chance!

So skip forward seven months and my first year at the school had thankfully
come to an end. The Summer break stretched ahead of me, though I already
found myself wishing it could last six years instead of six weeks!

Three days into the school holidays and there's a knock at the door. I go
to answer it and there he is. Jamie, just standing there, smiling. Now,
while this is very much a true story, I can't claim to have an eidetic
memory so what we said is not historically accurate, but the events around
them are.

"Wanna hang out?" he asked.

I'm not sure how he knew where I lived but considering this was back in the
days where the phone book also listed addresses, and having a fairly unique
surname, it wasn't too hard to figure out. I didn't question it at the time
though, the same way I didn't question what he was doing there. I just said
a very happy, "Yeah!" I shouted upstairs to tell my big brother I was going
out to play. He told me to piss off and leave him alone. We had a great
relationship!

So off I went with Jamie. He was on his bike, so I got mine and we went out
and played. It was an amazing morning, because I actually got to hang out
with a friend, something I hadn't done since leaving Primary School. I
often wonder if that crippling loneliness might have been part of what
drove the events of that afternoon or whether it was just one of those
things that was always going to happen.

At lunchtime we headed back to my place and stuffed ourselves. I offered to
bring my brother some lunch, he threatened to break my neck if spoke to him
again. Ah, brotherly love.

After lunch, rather than going out again we headed up to my room. He was
mesmerised by my Nintendo Gameboy and I very proudly showed it off. It was
cutting edge technology after all (sorry, is my age showing?!) We ended up
just sitting on my bed, with Jamie playing a few minutes of one game before
excitedly moving on to try the next.

It occurs to me now that I never actually asked him why he left the
school. I don't know whether it was a conscious decision I made at the time
or just not something the crossed my mind. I do recall the first thing I
did say about it though. "I miss having you at school!"

"I don't miss that place!" he said quite coldly. After a few moments, he
added, "But there's some bits I do miss!"

"Like History class?" I asked. I don't know what prompted me to say it. I
certainly wasn't hinting at anything or trying to make something happen, I
just remember the closeness I'd felt with him in the class in particular.

He chuckled. "Yeah, like history class!"

We went quiet for a few minutes while he continued playing.

"Why did you used to touch my leg?" I asked. I do wonder what he really
thought about the question. Did he think I was playing dumb, or that I was
actually dumb? Did he think I was trying to trick him into saying something
incriminating or embarrassing?

I ask this because his response was nothing more than a shrug and a hummed
grunt that had a slight cadence of `I don't know'. A few more moments and
he asked, "Why did you let me?"

"It felt nice!" I answered honestly.

I heard the `pause' sound on his game and he lowered the Gameboy, placing
it on the bed beside him. He didn't look at me, I didn't look at him, but
his hand lowered onto my leg. I smiled. It felt so familiar and comforting.

"Still feel nice?" he asked quietly.

"Yeah," I said, smiling at him.

"You can touch mine too, if you like!" he said. I wasn't sure whether it
was an offer or a request, but my hand was on his leg in a flash.

That was the moment I realised the wasted opportunities. I had already
fooled around with other boys (they're another story) so I had a good
feeling I knew where this was going and mentally kicked myself for not
picking up on it back when it first happened.

We leaned onto each other, bare arms touching as our heads pressed
together. I don't know how long we sat like that, just enjoying the
intimate proximity. It felt like forever at the time and little more than a
fleeting moment looking back.

I'm not sure which of us moved first, but whoever it was, the other eagerly
followed and our lips met. It wasn't the most exciting kiss, our lips
closed, barely moving, but it still managed to be mind-blowingly exciting
to twelve-year-old me. As I pulled away, the grin on his face was huge. I
imagine mine looked much the same.

I moved round straddled his lap, my hands casually holding onto his sides
as he reached up and gripped mine. I don't know why I was so nervous as I
leant in. We had just kissed, but this one felt like... more! As it
started, the nerves melted away and instead all I felt was sheer joy as he
kissed me back. I parted my lips a little, he did the same. He poked his
tongue out a bit, I copied. It was like we were taking it in turns to push
us both a little further.

We kissed like that for several minutes. I could feel he was hard and my
own erection, while not massive, was not unnoticeable as it tented my
shorts. I reached for the bottom of his t-shirt and he did the same to
me. We both lifted, seeing a hint of each other's bodies before our arms
and t-shirts became entangled and we struggled against each other for a
moment, toppling sideways in hysterics as we gave on removing each other's
clothing and just finished removing our own.

As we lay on our sides looking into each other, we kissed again, this time
each allowing a hand to explore each other's bare chest, stomach, back and
arms. Our touching wasn't intended to turn each other on (although it
obviously was), it was just an innocent exploration of another boy's body,
a seemingly brand-new sensation for him and a pleasantly familiar one for
myself.

When our kissing stopped again, we lay grinning at each other, my finger
tracing random lines and circles on his chest while his hand gripped
tightly onto my waist. A few moments later, we both looked down at the
bulges in each other's shorts and with silent agreement, climbed up off the
bed.

We stood a few feet apart, looking each other up and down, though our eyes
very blatantly lingered most intently on the still-covered areas. I grabbed
the waistband of my shorts and tucked my thumbs inside, making it clearly
visible that my underwear was hooked too. He copied. I felt nervous again
and from his expression, he felt the same.

"On three!" I said, getting a nod from Jamie. "One... two... three!"

As one, we both dropped out shorts and underwear and stood, facing each
other. Our dicks were almost identical in size, which was a relief for us
both really. Both uncut, both rigid. The main difference was the
hair. While he was raven-haired and several months more developed, he had a
decent-sized patch of black hair. Being somewhere between blonde and
ginger, I had a little less to show. There was almost as much there but
being fairer it just wasn't quite as obvious. He didn't seem to care
though.

He stepped forward and placed his hand on my leg, exactly where he used to
touch it in class, then audibly gulped and let it slide up and take hold of
my cock. While I had been with other boys, it had been fairly infrequent,
so it was still a new and exciting sensation as I stood there with my dick
in his hand. I took hold of his in return and we leaned in to kiss again,
casually tugging on each other's straining boners as we did it.

That was about when we reached the extent of what he knew and where my
previous encounters gave me the edge. I moved round to kiss at his neck,
nibbling at it playfully as he let out happy little mews, one of his hands
still grasped onto my dick while the other reached round and stroked up and
down my back.

As I moved round to start kissing his chest, I had to pull my body away
from him a little and he let out a reluctant moan as my dick slipped from
his grasp. His disappointment was quickly replaced by pleasure as my lips
found their way to his nipple, my hand ensuring the other one didn't feel
left out. Not really understanding the value of foreplay yet, I was soon
moving down further, kissing his stomach. Ugh, his stomach. To this day I
still remember how my lips felt against the warm, smooth skin and the long
happy sigh he let out as I licked a circle around his belly button.

One of my biggest regrets in life is that I didn't spend more time
worshipping that perfect, smooth stomach, but down I went, feeling his cock
brush against my jaw, then my cheek before I finally licked it.

"Oh God!" he muttered as he felt his dick being pleasured for the first
time.

I took it into my mouth and began bobbing back and forth on it, letting my
tongue tease the head.

"Matt... I'm gonna... unnh!" he moaned, his hands alternating between
grasping handfuls of my hair and stroking his fingers through
it. "Ohhhh... Yessss!" he moaned excitedly as his load dribbled into my
mouth.

I kept sucking until he giggled and pulled back, getting too sensitive to
take any more. I stood up and opened my mouth, like some dumb kid showing
off that he'd eaten all of his veggies. He seemed to like it though and
grabbed me in another kiss.

"Do I... have to do you too?" he asked looking down nervously at my boner.

"Only if you want to," I reassured him. "Or you can just play with it. Or
we can stop if you don't wanna do anymore!"

"No!" he said, quite urgently. I couldn't help smiling at that. Other boys
I had blown had a tendency to freak out after cumming and not want to do
any more, so I was glad he seemed keen to continue.

I moved to the bed to lay down, casually stroking myself as I did so. He
stood for a moment, just watching me before he climbed on the bed between
my legs. He leaned down and I quickly realised he was just doing exactly
the same things I had done to him, licking it in the same way a few times
before taking it into his mouth.

"Ooof," I yelped as I felt a tooth graze the shaft. "Rule number one. Mind
the teeth!" I said with a chuckle.

He pulled away and sat up, looking quite upset. "S... sorry!" he
stuttered. "Do you want me to stop?"

"Hell no!" I said happily. "Like I said, mind the teeth. Other than that,
just... do what you think would feel good to you and I'll enjoy it!"

He smiled and nodded, taking my dick in his mouth again. To his credit, I
never felt another tooth and what he was doing definitely felt good. I wish
I'd had the stamina that I developed over the years so I could have enjoyed
it for longer, but alas I soon felt my orgasm approaching. The wicked side
of me considered not telling him. It would have been especially mean as I
could already spurt a pretty massive load and it could get good distance
too (let's just say a black light on the wall above my head would look like
a Jackson Pollock!) but this was his first time apparently and traumatising
him by drowning him with spunk didn't seem too kind.

"I'm about to cum!" I warned him.

He immediately pulled off, stopping all touching until I cleared my throat
and gestured to my cock. He giggled and realised, so he gave me the few
final strokes needed and off I went. First shot over my head onto the wall,
second hitting me in the eye, the rest covering my body.

"Holy fuck!" He gasped as he watched.

I giggled as I came down, seeing his expression. "Yeah, I'm a shooter!" I
said proudly. I jumped up and quickly cleaned myself off with my boxers the
turned to see him still keeling on my bed, seemingly unsure what to do
next.

I lay back down on the bed and then held out an arm. He understood the
invitation and happily nuzzled down beside me. We kissed a few more times
and just chatted about nothing in particular until he eventually looked at
the clock and said he should probably go.

At the door, I said, "It was nice to see you again!"

"Yeah, you too!" he said happily. "See you around!"

"See ya!" I called after him.

*****

About seven years later, I was in a local nightclub, not one of the good
ones, one I hadn't even known was there until the guy I hooked up with
showed me. It was underneath a pet shop and all I could think about was how
the thumping music had to be disturbing the poor animals.

Anyway, I was just stood there, nursing my drink until the `straight' guy I
was with was drunk enough to start fooling around with me when I saw a
familiar face. I smiled. Jamie smiled.

He came over to me. The music was so loud we had to shout just to hear each
other. "Great to see you!" he shouted.

"Yeah, you too!" I shouted back, though seeing him was quite a shock.

"You look good!" he shouted.

"Thanks, you too!" I replied. It was an outright liey. He didn't look good,
he looked awful. I knew a heavy drug-user when I saw one.

"You remember that day?" he asked. I felt his hand on my leg.

I looked down and could have cried at the track marks on his
arm. "Yeah. Yeah I do!" I replied, smiling.

Just then, the girl he had been sat with came over and threw herself over
him. She looked to be in an even worse state than he was.

"This is Lisa, my fiancé!" he introduced her.

"We're getting married!" she slurred loudly.

"Congratulations!" I said to them both, and just like that, they moved on.

That was the last time I saw Jamie. I often think about the missed
opportunity. Not the chance for a hook-up when he touched my leg in class,
but the chance to be in his life when he showed up at my door, to maybe
change what happened. About eighteen months after I saw him in the
nightclub, I he died from a heroin overdose.

When I remember him, I don't think of the junkie dying with a needle in his
arm. I don't think of the strung-out mess I saw in the nightclub. I just
think of the sweet boy lying beside me on my bed, enjoying his first time
with me.

This was for you, Jamie x