Date: Mon, 10 Aug 2020 22:51:55 +0000 (UTC)
From: Casey Monoghan <monoman89@yahoo.com>
Subject: Sleeping on the Floor (Gay Males/Young Friends)

I doubt anyone stumbled here by accident, but you should know the
following story may contain gay, graphic encounters between minors.
I hope you enjoy this fictional story. I'm new to this and
feedback/constructive criticism would be great.
email: monoman89@yahoo.com

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Sleeping on the Floor

I met Anthony through my friend Ethan. They'd been friends for a few
years and lived near each other, so I'd heard about him but never met him
since Ethan usually came over to my house when we hung out, but Ethan's
dad had just built him a new gaming PC so I was spending more time at his
house nerding out over the graphical capabilities of the new machine, and
so I finally got to meet the other kid.

  He was pretty much as Ethan had described him, kinda quiet and shy at
first but he opened up after he got comfortable with you, especially if
anything tech-related was part of the discussion. He was clearly pretty
smart, but even though I didn't go to school with him I could tell he
probably wasn't the most popular kid.

 I wasn't expecting much, and I certainly wasn't expecting to be
infatuated from the first time I saw him. I can't explain exactly what it
was about him, I mean he wasn't "hot" in the classical sense or whatever,
but something about him just checked all kinds of boxes that I didn't
even know about. He was small for his age, and young looking, with a big
ol' mop of brown/blonde hair, and he had this face that just looked so
forelorn, so solemn, with these really wide brown eyes. His natural
expression made him look like he was expecting something awful to happen,
and those big eyes looked so hopeful, and you just wanted to give him a
big hug and tell him everything's going to be alright. But then he would
smile and his face would brighten and he'd get this dimple in his cheek
and his eyes would sparkle and my soul would leave my body. And as soon
as I heard him speak I couldn't get enough of his voice. It was kind of
raspy, as if he'd just recently been yelling at the top of his lungs and
now his vocal chords were shot, but the texture of it sent tingles down
my spine.

 I've never been very shy, I'm pretty talkative and social, I guess, and
something about Anthony's shyness, and his delicate movements, just
intrigued me. I wanted to be his friend, to get to know him, I wanted to
stick him in my pocket and take him with me everywhere I went, and I also
wanted to lay him down and take off his clothes and see what expressions
I could invoke on that beautiful solemn face as I teased pleasures out of
his delicious little body. I also noticed that he never really talked
about girls, but he and Ethan were both kind of dorks so I figured I
shouldn't read too much into that.

  So I made an effort to be very friendly with Anthony and encouraged him
to come to my house along with Ethan. I also had to be careful not to get
Ethan suspicious, but Ethan seemed happy I liked his other friend and he
started bringing Anthony over regularly, and we had a few sleepovers.
Finally the opportunity came when Ethan couldn't come because he had too
much homework, so I was able to invite Anthony alone. Not that I was
really expecting anything to happen at 13, I just relished the thought of
being alone with him.

 We had our usual fun playing games and watching YouTube videos till it
was finally time for bed, and Anthony asked if he could go get the
sleeping bag from the hall closet as usual. With a bit of a nervous
flutter, I told him he didn't have to sleep on the floor since it was
just the two of us. He said okay, but I could tell immediately that he
wasn't very into this idea. I got into bed but he just laid on top of the
covers, and we chatted and giggled for a while, and then when it got late
and we were starting to yawn and I asked if he was going to get under the
covers he hesitated, then said he really preferred sleeping on the floor.
Okay, fine, he's not into boys. Or at least he's not into me. Whatever, I
still liked having him in my room, and I would still continue beating off
thinking about him every chance I got.

 Otherwise things were great, and I started hanging out with him as often
as I hung out with Ethan, and even with the firm rejection I was still
crushing on him pretty hard. My sexual appetite for him was certainly not
diminished. He stayed over fairly regularly as the summer went on, but he
never slept in my bed. I did suggest it one more time a month or so later
and didn't bother again after I got the same response. He also talked and
made noises in his sleep a lot, which was cute, but a few times it
actually gave me a fright when he'd wake me up in the middle of the night
saying something random in his sleep before muttering back into regular
slumber. Maybe being a restless sleeper was the reason he always wanted
to sleep on the floor.

 One night near the end of summer I had him over and we were bingeing
some Marvel movies when I noticed that he was starting to nod off. We
were sitting up against my headboard, so I lowered myself until I was
laying on the bed and propped my head against my pillow, just trying to
get a little more comfortable and hoping to inspire my sleepy friend to
do the same, and it actually worked. He looked over at me, then slid down
and fluffed up his own pillow and within minutes his breathing evened and
he was out. I waited a while, then slowly turned down the volume. After a
bit his body twitched a few times, which I took to mean he was out pretty
good (and also thought was super cute, like a sleeping puppy), and I
turned the TV off. He stayed asleep, and I laid there in satisfaction
just knowing I had him in my bed at last, until I drifted off.

 At some point I was awakened. I was still lying on top of the covers in
my t-shirt and underwear, and I'd curled up on my side in my sleep, and
someone was pulling on my hip, trying to turn me onto my back. Was
something wrong? I wondered, but there didn't seem to be any urgency to
the touch. I turned with the hand, rolling onto my back, and I could
barely make out Anthony lying on his side facing me, propped up on an
elbow. Did he really not want to sleep in my bed so badly that he was
going to wake me up in the middle of the night about it? Jeez.

 "What?" I asked groggily, my voice barely working. Anthony's hand moved
from my hip up across my body to the side of my face, almost tenderly.
What the hell? Was this some kind of game? It wasn't really like Anthony
to mess around like that, he was-

 All thoughts flew from my head as Anthony planted his face right on mine
in a firm kiss. My half lidded eyes flew open in shock, and before I
could gather my wits he quickly took it to another level, opening his
mouth against mine and pushing his tongue into my mouth with a moan of
pleasure, his hand moving to the back of my neck.

 He was French kissing me. Just like that. I'd always imagined my first
kiss would be tentative, to start gentle and delicate and awkward before
moving on to deeper passion. Anthony just started making out with me out
of nowhere as confidently as if we'd been doing it for years. Where the
hell was this coming from? His tongue was a little dry and tasted a
little savory from sleep, and my tongue felt a little leathery as well,
but any self-conciousness I might have felt about it was overwhelmed by
his complete lack of reservation, and in moments the muscles that had
stiffened in shock were melting and I tentatively kissed him back,
bringing moans of pleasure from him in that sexy, raspy voice of his.

 Just when I thought my brain was starting to catch up with all this his
hand moved down from my neck and greedily cupped my crotch. I mean, he
just grabbed it, no warning or working up to it, he just took hold of me
and started working my groin with his palm. My dick was bent downward in
its natural position but was very quickly swelling upward against his
palm, and I ached to stand it up but I was too wrapped up in making out
with him and didn't want to disentangle my fingers from those rich, dense
curls of hair.

 He ground his hips against my side and his crotch pressed against me and
I felt his dick against my hip, hard as a rock and standing straight up
in his underwear, and at one point he thrusted enough to lift my t-shirt
a bit and I felt his dick against my exposed skin and I could feel that
the head was poking out of the top of his underwear and I could tell it
was just a touch smaller than mine and it left a tiny spot of wetness on
my skin that drove me absolutely insane with horniness.

 He slid his mouth away from mine as he tongued and kissed down along my
neck, still moaning those sweet raspy moans of hunger, and honestly it
tickled like crazy but I fought my giggles and squirms as hard as I could
so I didn't accidentally ruin the moment or whatever the hell this was.
He kissed down my chest and stomach through my shirt, his hand still
rubbing my crotch, and he had worked my dick to its full upright position
and he was rubbing my shaft and then he was kissing it through my
underwear, and I looked down to see his mop of beautiful curly hair with
his face pressed against my crotch as he moved his hands over my bare
thighs, and the next thing I knew he grabbed the waistband of my
underwear and tugged on them. I lifted my butt to help it along until
they were limp around my ankles, and for a moment I felt self-conscious,
naked from the waist down with my oh-so-familiar boner standing up under
my recent and meager patch of pubic hair, not knowing what he would make
of this secret part of myself that I had never shared with anyone. Would
he still be interested once he saw it?

 But he didn't really look at it, he just grabbed it with one hand as he
kissed his way up my right thigh and then my balls and then he let go of
my dick with his hand and kissed the length of my shaft and then I was
inside his warm, wet mouth.

 I stared at the ceiling, my mouth still buzzing with the feel and taste
of his lips, trying to make sense of all this. It was an odd sensation
for me. I don't mean having my dick sucked, that was great. No, it was
just that in my fantasies, I'd always imagined myself doing sex stuff to
other boys. Like I seduce them or trick them or I have super powers and
freeze time or whatever it takes to get their pants off so I could suck
their dicks and lick their balls and worship their bodies and all that,
and it sounds weird but it had just never occured to me that someone else
would want to do these things to me. Did this nice, shy, quiet kid really
want to do that stuff to me as badly as I wanted to do them to him?

 Oh yes, yes he did. Oh my god. The kid was devouring my crotch, sucking
my dick one second, then licking it like a popsicle, then kissing and
licking my thighs, my groin, sucking my balls. He moved his hands between
my legs and spread them and then slid them under me and cupped my butt,
so my thighs were on either side of his face, his unruly mop of curls
tickling my legs as he feasted on me. I think he muttered something at
one point but I couldn't make it out, and whatever it was he had my
permission anyway. I stared at all this with fascination, thinking oh yes
baby you can have it, you can have whatever you want, and then he was
kissing up my stomach again but this time sliding my shirt up as he went,
kissing my bare chest and as soon as he was close enough I grabbed his
sweet, solemn face and pulled it to me and sucked his tongue into my
mouth and he laid down on me with my legs on either side of him and I
could feel his smaller, rock hard boner against mine, his dick still
behind his underwear and mine bare and throbbing and wet, and I felt an
almost overwhelming thrill of sexual pleasure course though me at the
dick-to-dick contact, the weight of his small frame pressed against me,
and he was writhing against me with a delicious rhythm as we kissed and I
eagerly traced his sexy body with my hands, his thin waist and back, and
as much as I wanted him naked I was surprised how much I loved feeling
his warm skin through his shirt, the shape of his shoulder blades and the
valley of his spine, I just couldn't get enough and I wanted more. I
grabbed his cute little butt and pulled him into me as he started kissing
my neck again and I humped up against him, waves of sexual satisfaction
flowing through me, and I was thinking fuck yeah, oh fuck yeah, and I
might have even started saying it out loud, and then he kissed me again
and now we were practically whining with hunger and I was already
thinking about what I was going to do to him, how he had no idea what he
was in for cause I was gonna get him completely naked and fucking eat
every inch of his sweet body until he can't take it anymore and he
explodes and I get to experience every moment of it and relish his raspy
moans and watch his sweet, so-serious face as I took him to heaven.

 He slid his hands down and cupped my ass and ground his dick against
mine and I was working my right hand into the smooth, tight cleft in the
middle of his ass while pushing the fingers of my left hand under the
elastic waistband above his left cheek, getting my first feel of his
naked skin, and I sucked on his tongue like I was blowing it, planning
all the delightful things that were going to happen in the next few
minutes, when suddenly things... changed. He stopped moving and pulled
his tongue out of my mouth, and I could feel a string of saliva
connecting our mouths, which broke as he opened his eyes and looked at me
for the first time since this started, and it made me uncomfortable. I
reflexively pulled my hands away from his butt. I could feel that
something was wrong, but I didn't know what. Had he cum or something? He
glanced down at my body for a second, and I felt oddly ashamed, then he
just moved off of me and rolled onto his side with his back to me,
leaving me laying on top of my covers with my shirt bunched up under my
armpits and my underwear tangled loosely around one ankle, my neck and
chest and stomach and crotch and thighs wet with his cooling saliva, my
mouth still open.

 What the fuck? Why had it stopped? Why had it even started? What the
hell was happening? I bent down to awkwardly get my underwear back in
place, which was difficult because I had to get the other foot in first
but I was trying to be as discreet as I could, even though I didn't know
why since just a moment ago we had been more indescreet than I'd ever
thought possible, but I got my underwear up and my shirt down, trying to
act natural about it, and turned onto my side away from him and lay
still. I felt guilty, like I'd done something wrong. It didn't make
sense, but my mind believed it to be true, I felt like I'd somehow led
him on and he had come to his senses and realized it was a mistake, and
now he knew I liked boys and now he wouldn't want to be my friend. He was
probably disgusted with me. Oh God was he going to tell Ethan? Would
Ethan tell the kids at school? Guilty thoughts raced through my mind and
my eyes started to sting with tears until at some point I fell into a
fitful sleep.


I woke up the next morning and enjoyed a blissful moment or two before
the events of the night before came flooding back. Wait, had that really
happened? Did Anthony totally try to have sex with me? Now in the warm,
rational light of morning, such things seemed impossible. I looked over
and saw that the other side of the bed was empty, confirming the thought.
Anthony was already up, sitting on the floor against my nightstand,
playing with his phone.

 "Oh, hey," he greeted.

 "EEEnnggg gudmawrninggg!" I tried to respond as I stretched, working the
last vestiges of funky anxiety out of my muscles from that weird dream.
"How'd you sleep?"

 "Fine." He was back to his phone.

 "Wait, did you sleep on the floor all night without a sleeping bag or
anything?"

 "Yeah. It was fine. I had a pillow."

 "Alright."

 And that was that. We played with our phones for a bit and then we had
breakfast and an hour or so later he had to go home and took off on his
bike, leaving me alone with my thoughts. Had he been extra shy and quiet
that morning? Or was my dream still fucking with me?

 Part of me insisted that it had been real. I mean, it HAD been real! I
could remember the smell of his shirt. I had felt his teeth a couple of
times when he was sucking my dick. Hell, he'd had a bit of morning
breath. Why would I dream about such an obscure detail? But really,
Anthony? My little Anthony? It didn't add up. Also, I was definitely
starting puberty and such dreams were to be expected, right? Well, if
they were all like that I was already very much looking forward to the
next one.

 I went over to Ethan's house the following Saturday but Anthony said he
had chores all day and couldn't come over, and I'd be lying if I didn't
feel a spike of fear when he sent that, but I quickly pushed it away. The
following week he was busy as well, and then school started and I saw
Ethan all the time since we went to school together, but didn't hear much
from Anthony, and I didn't want to ask Ethan about him too much or Ethan
might think something was up. So I gave it a couple of weeks, just
checking in here and there, before inviting him over on a Friday after
school.

 Any extra shyness I may or may not have observed that one morning was
definitely gone now as we effervescently caught each other up on the
goings-on in our classes and other things in our lives. My mom invited
him to stay for dinner, which led to an invitation to stay the night. We
played some games and then settled in for some Netflix.

 "Where are you going?" I asked as he sat up and started scooting off the
bed at one point.

 "Gonna go grab the sleeping bag and get it all set up."

 "Okay."

 He hopped off the bed.

 "Hey, you know you don't HAVE to sleep on the floor, right? I mean I
know you said it's fine but I just want to remind you in case you were
just being polite or whatever."

  He paused, looking at the bedroom door, then lowered his gaze to the
floor. "You know I can't," he said meaningfully, and a spike of panicky
fear washed through me. He walked out the door to get the sleeping bag,
moving slowly and deliberately as he opened the door and closed it behind
him, not looking at me.

 My brain was ringing like a bell. So it HAD happened! Holy crap! And he
remembered! You know I can't, he'd said. You know I can't... What,
because he couldn't control himself? Because he couldn't trust himself
around me? Or was it because I might take advantage of him? Is that what
happened?

 He came back in with the bundle under his arm, and I scrolled through
Netflix without really seeing it and without looking at him, my mind
spinning. He quietly set up the sleeping bag and got into it, and I laid
back, looking at the ceiling in the glow of the TV screen, my world
turned upside down just when I was getting a grip on things again.

 "So... we're just not going to talk about it then?" I found myself
asking. I tried to keep my tone casual, but even I could hear the stress
and emotion in my voice. He didn't reply. Oh, so he's going to pretend to
be asleep? Fine. I picked up the remote to turn off the TV.

 "What do you remember?" he asked before I could hit the power button.

 "Huh?"

 "What do you remember?" he repeated.

 "Oh. Um... I dunno. I mean it's kind of... what do YOU remember?"

 "I'm... not sure."

 An awkward moment began to stretch out as we each waited for the other
to say something. Finally Anthony broke the silence.

 "Have you ever heard of parasomnia?"

 "What?"

 "Parasomnia. It's like... you know what sleepwalking is, right? That's a
kind of parasomnia. It's just one kind though, there are others. And
usually people with one kind have at least one other one. They're
sleeping disorders. I actually used to sleepwalk when I was little."

 "Really?"

 "Yeah. My parents said they'd find me in weird places, or sometimes I'd
be, like, standing in the kitchen talking to invisible people and stuff.
I don't remember it though."

 "Wow, really? That's kinda creepy! What if you were actually talking to
ghosts or something?" I didn't know where this conversation had come
from, but I was eager to move on from the awkwardness of the last one.
And this was actually kinda cool.

 "Well I don't know if it was ghosts. I hope not! That would be pretty
freaky. But it only lasted for a couple of years."

 "And you don't remember it at all?"

 "No, not really. But I still have a couple of other parasomnias that
happen once in a while. And recently, like in the last year or so, some
of them have been getting worse. Like, I know I talk in my sleep a
lot..."

 "Oh yeah. One time I woke up and you were like 'Gimme the bowl!' or
something, and it was really loud and I was like, 'What bowl?' but then I
noticed you were asleep." We both chuckled at that.

 "Yeah, sorry about that. But in the last year or so it's gotten weird. I
wake up in weird positions, like sometimes I'm upside down in my bed-"

 "Upside down!?"

 "I mean like, my feet where my head is supposed to be, like turned
around."

 "Oh, okay, I thought you meant, like, upside-down upside-down."

 "Ha ha, yeah, now THAT would be freaky! But sometimes I'll wake myself
up knocking on the wall in my sleep or something, or I'll wake up with my
pillow underneath me. Or sometimes if I have an intense dream or like,
you know, a... sexy dream or whatever, I'll wake up hugging the pillow
with my body and stuff."

 Oh. I was beginning to see the connection now, and I did not like where
this was going.

 "Hmmm, interesting," was all I could say, wishing we could change the
subject.

 "So you don't remember anything about the other night?" he asked. Fuck.

 "I mean, I was pretty asleep too. I remember I was passing out and I
think you fell asleep on the bed when we were watching TV, and... I don't
know, it's all kind of hazy from there, like I can't remember what was a
dream and what wasn't." The lie sounded fake even to me.

 "Yeah. I don't remember falling asleep. I remember I was completely out
and then I woke up and... I think I was, like, on top of you or
something?" he said hesitantly.

 "Yeah, I think I remember you maybe might have been... on top of me at
some point," I conceded. My skin was starting to flush, I was glad he
couldn't see me.

 "And... I dunno... I think maybe... was I trying to kiss you or
something...?"

 "Yeah I'm starting to remember now, yeah I think you were... kissing
me..." It felt so weird to say out loud. I really wanted this
conversation to end.

 "Yeah. Um, was I... like... French kissing you?" Well, at least he
seemed to be taking the responsibility for this, which made it somewhat
easier.

 "Well, yeah, I wasn't going to say it, but yeah you were... kind of
Frenching me."

 "Oh. Wow. Sorry."

 "What were you dreaming about?"

 "I don't remember. I mean I'm pretty sure it was... like... a sex dream,
but I don't remember with who or what was happening."

 "Yeah. Weird.""

"So, what else was I doing?"

Damnit, stop asking me! What should I say? I knew exactly the moment he
woke up, but I didn't know how much he knew. "I think that was pretty
much it," I lied.

 "Okay."

 Awkward silence.

 "I know this sounds weird, but did I... um, did I pull your underwear
down?" he asked slowly.

 "Ummmm.."

 "I did, didn't I?" It was more a statement than a question. "I'm
sorry..." he said, and he started to cry.

 "Hey. Hey! It's okay!"

 "No it's not! I can't believe I did that to you! To my best friend!"

 I was his best friend? My heart melted even more. "But you were asleep!"

 "So! It doesn't matter if I was asleep or not! I'm a freak. I can't even
sleep in the same bed as you without..." The waterworks were really
coming now, and I wanted more than anything to comfort him. "You don't
understand. I raped my friend!" he said between sobs.

 "Whoa, okay, stop that, no you did not."

 "Yes I did! I raped you!"

 "No you didn't! Stop saying that! Jeez. Look, listen to me, okay? Hey,
look at me." I laid down sideways across the bed with my head hanging
over the side so I could look at him where he lay in the sleeping bag on
the floor, his hands rubbing his eyes. "That's just stupid. You didn't..."
I glanced at the door nervously and lowered my voice. "You didn't 'rape'
me, okay?"

 "What do you call it then, huh?"

 "I certainly don't call it rape!" I sighed. "Okay, look, do you remember
waking up that night?"

 "Yeah, kinda."

 "Did you notice anything?"

 "What do you mean?" His crying had stopped, so at least there was that.

 "Just tell me what you remember from when you first woke up."

 "Well, I was... you know, on you... and I think I was... kissing you...
like, you know..."

 "French kissing me, yes. And what was I doing? Was I kicking you off of
me or anything?"

 He thought for a moment. "Not really."

 "So if I wasn't kicking you off, what was I doing?"

 "I dunno. You were just kind of laying there I guess."

  I took a deep breath and looked him in the eye. "I was kissing you
back," I confessed.

 He just looked at me trying to process that. "You were..."

 "Yes. Alright, guess what, I've got some news for you, okay?"

 "Um, okay..."

 "You ready?"

 "I guess."

 "It was... well, I don't know how else to say it. It was amazing."

  He stared at me blankly.

  "Okay? Yeah, that's right. A-MA-ZING! I don't know what that was or
where it came from or what, but... wow."

 He started to smile.

 "I mean it was like... one second I'm lying there sleeping and the next
second it's like, you're just, you know," I looked at the door and
lowered my voice again. "Kissing me and touching me and going all crazy
and I was like, 'Holy crap!' I didn't really have time to react! But I
gotta tell you - and I mean this - you are an incredible kisser. I mean
I've never kissed anyone before, but damn!"

 "Really?" he asked, and he was full-on grinning now dimple and all. I'd
do anything to make him smile like that, even if I was embarrassing
myself in the process.

 "Oh yeah. Man, you were like an animal. I don't know what that was but
honestly..." I shook my head. "It was kinda incredible."

 "Shut up," he said, chuckling.

 "Why do you think I asked you what I was doing when you woke up? I
wasn't kicking you off me because, I mean, I was having a pretty damn
good time! I mean the way you were touching me and kissing me, it
literally blew my mind."

 "It didn't gross you out?"

 "Honestly? Not at all."

 "Wow. What else did I do?"

 "Well..."

 "Come on!"

 "I don't think you want to hear it."

 "Yes I do! I won't freak out I promise."

 "I mean I don't even know how to say it. You already know you pulled my
underwear down, and you were all, like... you know..."

 "What?"

 "You were going all crazy down there! Like licking everything and... you
know..."

 "You mean I sucked your dick and stuff?" he whispered.

 "Ummmmm... yes?"

 "Holy shit!"

 "Yeah." I allowed a few moments for all that to sink in. "And honestly?
You were, like, an expert. Seriously." He giggled again. "Okay, another
secret."

 "What?"

 "I'm being totally honest here, okay?"

 "Okay."

 "I was kinda disappointed when you woke up."

  "Disappointed?"

 "Yeah. You know, cause then you stopped."

 "Oh, you mean... you wanted me to keep going?"

 "Look I'm just saying, whatever it was, it was freaking amazing. And you
were just, like, wow. And I totally would have kept going." He covered
his mouth to contain his giggle. "You said you noticed my underwear was
down. You didn't notice how freaking hard I was?" He giggled some more.
"So yeah, you didn't freaking rape me, okay? You can call it what you
want, but it wasn't that, because I was, like, totally down."

 Feeling good about finally getting this off my chest, I clicked off the
TV and laid back in bed. Neither of us said anything for a while.

 "Oh, and by the way, you can totally sleep in my bed any time."

 "Even if I start doing stuff in my sleep?"

 "Especially if you start doing stuff in your sleep," and we both
laughed.

  I laid there in the dark for a few minutes, wondering what he was
thinking, how he was taking this. Had I said too much? He had seemed
okay, but would things be different now?

"Well, if I'm being honest," he said, sitting up and looking at me. "It's
really not super comfortable sleeping on the floor..."