Monday, 8 February 2010

Nights with Tom (Part 2) by JKReegan

Nights with Tom (Part 2)

A couple days later, Tom spent the night at my house.

My parents were home, and we just hung out and goofed off... typical teenager stuff. That, of course, meant no alcohol though, which I guessed would put a damper on anything else happening that evening.

However, once the lights were out, my hormones took over. All I could think about was how great it was to have his cock in my mouth, how much I loved the taste of his cum. I had to try again. I waited as long as I could, at least until I heard his breathing change into
nice deep breaths.

This time I was in my bed, and he was on the floor. I got up and moved over to him, and slipped my hand underneath the sleeping bag. I touched his shoulder again, squeezing it a little. I was prepared to say "Did you hear that?" if he woke up, as if I had heard something go bump in the night. Seemed reasonable.

He didn't wake up though, and I slowly worked my way down to his crotch once again. He was soft, but quickly hardened in my questing fingers. Despite the higher risk tonight because of his missing alcoholic haze, I moved faster, and with more daring. I pulled the covers back, pulled him out, and had him in mouth in just a few seconds.

I took time tonight to lick him all over, even sucking in his balls one at a time. I was prepared this time when he came, and I didn't miss a drop.

Afterwards, I went back to my bed and jacked myself off.

The next morning, I woke up early, probably around 7 or so, early for a Saturday at least. I figured my parents would be down doing laundry. They'd gotten into this ritual of going down to the Laundromat every Saturday at 5 or 6 in the morning ever since our washing machine broke. Why they hadn't called a repairman, I didn't know.

However, that meant I didn't have to worry about being disturbed by them... especially since I was thinking of repeating my recent activities. I figured Tom would be asleep for a few hours at least... it had only been about 5 hours since we had gone to sleep. So, I decided to give it another shot.

I moved down to the floor again and had him out and hard in record time. While I sucked on him again, I pulled myself out of my briefs and stroked myself. Everything was going great, until I heard footsteps coming down the hall, and I heard my mother say "Let me see
if they're up."

I only had time to throw the sleeping bag back up over him and pull my own briefs up before the door was opening. I pulled my knees up and sat with them against my chest as my mother walked in, hoping my erection was well hidden.

As for what my mother saw and thought, I can only imagine. She walked in to see her son, clad in only his briefs, hunched near another sleeping boy in a sleeping bag.

I saw the strange look on her face, and said the first thing that came to mind. "He's talking in his sleep. I'm trying to hear what he is saying."

All things considered, it was somewhat plausible, and not bad for being on the spot. My mother seemed to buy it, though the questioning look never really left her face. She told me they had
overslept, and wanted to know if we'd like breakfast.

I told her it was way too early for breakfast, and we'd get something later. She left and pulled the door closed (thank god). I figured I'd pushed my luck and reached in only to pull his briefs back up over his erection and then went back to my bed... definitely not

And I knew I'd try again.

A short time later, school was out, and he and I spent the night at each other's house often. Every time, without fail, I sucked him off, and he never woke up.

At first I wondered if he was just faking it, but every time I went to him at night, he was always soft. I knew that if I had been expecting a blowjob sometime in the night, I would have been rock hard all night waiting for it. But he was always soft, so I never really knew for sure.

As the summer progressed, I grew increasingly daring. A couple of times I kissed him softly onthe lips, but the most daring was using his hand to jack myself off.

That was a revelation in itself, another that lead me to believe he wasn't as asleep as he appeared to be. I found that if I had my hand on his cock, and his hand on my cock, whatever I did he copied. Who knows, maybe he thought he was touching himself... yeah, sure.
However, it got me more and more turned on to stroke him while he stroked me.

Evening blowjobs also turned into afternoon blowjobs when the occasions arose that Tom decided to take a nap. My suspicions that he was faking it were pretty much confirmed. Once, after a trip to an amusement park, his mother dropped us off at his house while she went grocery shopping. She told him to mow the lawn while she was gone, but instead Tom took a nap on the couch, with me "resting" in a nearby chair.

When Tom rolled over with his hard on quite visible in his jeans, I went for it, as usual. I had only unbuttoned the top few buttons of his jeans and was licking the tip when I heard his mother's car in the driveway. I quickly buttoned Tom back up and dashed for the
chair. Tom's erection was very obvious in his jeans, but I couldn't do anything about it.

Just before she walked in, Tom "conveniently" rolled over to face the back of the couch, hiding his erection from his mother quite well. She walked in, saw him sleeping on the couch, and immediately started yelling about mowing the lawn. Apparently she had forgotten her coupons or something, which is why she came back. She made him get up before she left again, but in those few minutes his erection had wilted. There was no sign of it when he got up.

Towards the end of the summer, part of me felt satisfied, but another part of me felt unfulfilled. Basically, I wanted more. I wanted some action in return. I didn't want to mess up the situation though, but I grew more frustrated.

Finally, one night the dam burst. A blowjob turned into me kissing him all over his body, including his lips. As my lips touched his, I thought of how it was only fair that he should do the same favor me that I had done so often for him. I told myself that he wouldn't notice the difference between my lips and my cock brushing against his lips. I told myself that just feeling his lips on my cock would get me through.

Of course, once I had slip up his body and kneeled across his chest, and my cock touched his lips, it was far from being enough. I spread his lips open and rubbed the tip of my cock along his teeth. Next I was pressing his lower jaw down, and slipping my cock in and resting it on his tongue. Each sensation just drove me further and soon I was thrusting myself into his mouth, my cock scraping on his teeth but I just didn't care.

And when his hand came up my leg, onto my thigh, and finally onto my ass as I thrust into him, it didn't even occur to me that a sleeping person doesn't do that. I was way too into it.

The scraping was making me more and more sensitive though, and in a painful way, not in a good way. One particularly painful jab made me stop. I pulled out and slid back down his body and began kissing him again, turned on by the fact that I was kissing lips that had just been around my cock.

I fully explored his mouth this time, my tongue sliding around everywhere. I pulled back to catch my breath for a second, and my world froze when I heard him whisper "Only one time."

I was stupefied, and stupidly, I blurted out "You're awake." I froze and didn't say anything else. I didn't know if that meant only that one kiss, if he knew about the rest, I was just in mass confusion.

And within seconds, he was asleep again, or at least was pretending to be.

I was still frozen for a time, but then I finally decided to take action. And definitive action it was.

I decided "Only one time" meant tonight. And that whatever I was going to, it had to be tonight.

That meant I was going to get fucked tonight, because that was what I wanted.

I got up and went to the bathroom and grabbed some Vaseline. I knew I needed something to lube up with from my own explorations of my ass. I went back to my room, rubbed some my Vaseline into my hole and then straddled him. I rubbed some Vaseline along his still hard cock and lowered myself onto him.

It hurt like hell, being larger than anything I had put up there before, but I was determined. It took a while for me to adjust to him, but eventually I was bouncing up and down on his cock, loving every second of it.

Tom still pretended to be asleep.

That pissed me off, but I was also getting what I wanted... and I wanted this fuck more than anything.

I stroked myself as I rode him, and his orgasm inside me got me so hot that my own followed a few seconds later, spraying out along his chest.

When I could breathe again, I cleaned my cum off of him with a sock, and then went to the bathroom to clean myself up. I even brought back a washcloth to wipe down his dick and chest. I finished it off with another kiss to his lips and went to sleep, well satisfied. I could have been more satisfied, of course, if he had been an active partner, but it was still the best I'd ever had.

The next day, he acted as if nothing had ever happened, just like he always had. It frustrated the hell out of me.

So, I decided to confront him. I thought that if we just got it all out in the open, it could be better than ever. It was obvious.

So, I did the mature thing and wrote him a note. I know, I know. Childish, but I was still kind of chicken about it. Basically, in the note I confessed everything, and voiced my suspicions about his own actions, told him I was in love with him... the works.

I left it for him and waited to see what would happen.

When the phone rang later, I knew it would be him. I answered it, and sure enough it was. But everything was all wrong.

He was angry, and couldn't believe I had done those things to him while he slept. He said he wasn't gay and wanted nothing more to do with me. He told me that if I ever got near him again, I'd regret it.

And that was it. He never changed his mind, and never spoke to me again. I tried to speak with him, but he'd ignore me and hang up on me.

Eventually I gave up.

But several years later, he called me, with questions about what had happened before. He wanted to know exactly what I did... blow by blow, so to speak.

While I had moved on, I hadn't left my hurt feelings behind. I told him that if he needed material for his jack off fantasies, he wouldn't get it from me. He had gotten all he would ever get from me. Then I hung up.

I had a certain satisfaction that now instead of me left wanting him, he was left wanting me.

Something felt very right about that.

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