Little Jimmy Grows Upbytimmywells©
In the interest of full disclosure I would like to mention that this story involves the following topics; rough, reluctant but consensual sex, anal sex, and both very dominant and completely submissive characters.
This story takes place during the Summer of 1970 and involves a very shy, meek and socially awkward guy whose life is forever changed one day in his 18th summer when an old classmate reenters his life. After he does, nothing is ever the same again.
Chapter One: A blast from the past.
I recognized him right away, and when I saw him back at the soda cooler of the local convenience store, my heart skipped a beat, just like old times.
He was wearing white shorts and a light blue tank-top that showcased a physique that seemed even more impressive than it had been back three years ago when I had seen Tom daily back in ninth grade.
His ruddy complexion had been highlighted by a lot of exposure to the sun, which had brought out even more freckles on his burly frame. The flaming red hair that liberally coated his muscular legs and peeked out from all openings of the snug fitting tank-top brought back a lot of memories as well, and I found myself staring at Tom in a fog just as he looked over toward me.
"Jimmy?" Tom asked, and then his face lit up to a grin when he realized his guess was correct. "Long time no see."
I stuck out my hand, rather stunned that he would even remember my name, and saw it disappear in the beefy paw of my former classmate while I tried not to wince at his grip.
It wasn't like we traveled in the same circles or anything, since Tom had been an outgoing guy who played sports, whereas I was just, for lack of a better term, a nerd. An introverted bookworm back in ninth grade, meek and unassuming, who during the three years of high school had managed to not change a bit, which was a fact that did not elude Tom.
"You haven't changed a bit," Tom noted as he looked me over, and it was certainly true.
I still looked exactly like I had back when we shared classes. Same skinny body and same shy manner, and even though Tom was only a couple of inches taller than me, he looked like a giant in comparison, and while we talked I had to struggle to maintain eye contact.
Not only was it my nature to shy away and avert my eyes when talking to people, but it was those memories of Tom that had me occasionally looking him over.
Tom had left public school after ninth grade, transferring to a Catholic high school where he continued to excel in athletics, as I had noticed by reading the newspaper. As for me, I kept hitting the books while living in my own little world.
Now we were both heading off to college, as we learned by talking, and while I was staying local, Tom was headed out to the Midwest on an athletic scholarship.
Oddly enough, that fact made me feel a little sad. Why would being far away from someone that I had rarely seen bother me? Was it because it meant that all of the fantasies I had played out in my mind would never take place?
Chapter Two: Remembering.
I seem to recall that I was in several of the same classes as Tom, but the only one that I truly remembered was gym class. It was there that began my fascination with Tom. Maybe infatuation would be a more accurate term, because it was that one October afternoon that was a rather major event in my young life.
It had been just another gym class, and probably one that I had managed to embarrass myself in. There was little I could do athletically at any skill level besides soccer, so I tended to try and avoid everything else until we got sent back inside to change.
The locker room was a terrifying enough place for me as it was, but for whatever reason, there were times when the gym teacher felt compelled to stand there and make sure everybody took a shower. The chance that you could actually work up a sweat in the 25 minutes of the period left after dressing was minimal at best, but that didn't matter to the teacher.
I loathed the walk to the enormous and intimidating ivory colored tiled room. You had to leave your towel in the drying room and walk in the showers naked, and there was nothing that provided any kind of privacy at all, so what I did at times like that was to run to a corner and let the spray hit me for a few seconds before running back out and hiding under my towel.
There were a few other guys like me; modest and intimidated by the less inhibited ones who proudly strutted their stuff without fear, and there was no one more modest than I was, for with good reason.
It hadn't taken me long to figure out that in the showers, all men are not created equal. After taking enough quick peeks at the other guys, I came to the realization that along with not being blessed with the most manly physique in the obvious ways, I had been rather cheated in another, far more intimate area.
So on the memorable day in question when I was forced into taking a shower, I did what I usually did. Avoiding the snapping of towels and the slapping of butts as best I could, I made sure the teacher checked my name off and headed for my usual corner for a quick rinse before fleeing. This time, however, I didn't leave as quickly.
Over on the side where I usually hid, Tom was scrubbing himself with soap while letting the water cascade down his face. My eyes quickly darted downward like they did to everyone else, but this time instead of peeking and hiding, I did a double take.
I forced myself to jerk my head away before he caught me staring at him, but the ten seconds or so that I was looking at him was permanently etched in my memory. That night, and many other nights after that, while alone in my bed I would replay that image in my head while I brought myself to orgasm.
After that day, I became more willing to take showers after gym class. I would plan my visit so that I would get in the shower just before Tom did, getting into a perfect spot to watch him enter the room. Keeping my privates shielded as best I could from everyone, especially Tom, I would watch him until he stepped under a nozzle and began lathering up, and at that point I would scurry out and hide under my towel.
Tom was on the wrestling and gymnastic teams, and I became an instant fan of those sports, cheering on our team at most of the home contests. I suppose I cared about the outcome, but I was mainly interested in Tom, and watching him compete in those skimpy uniforms was the highlight of that school year for me.
One afternoon, after he had won his wrestling match, I went over and congratulated him. Our relationship was only a "Hello" type thing, but that afternoon, just as I was turning away from Tom, he asked me if I would want to come over to his house that weekend.
Flustered to totally shocked, I panicked, mumbling some lie about having plans before hurrying away. I mentally kicked myself for being such an idiot, and that stupid reaction had haunted me ever since. Why in the world didn't I just say yes?
Tom transferred to that Catholic school after that school year, and we hadn't seen each other since that day. Oh, I had seen him plenty. I followed his exploits in the newspaper religiously, and had even attended a couple of his wrestling tournaments, but I always kept my distance.
Chapter Three: Gay?
Despite my infatuation with Tom, I didn't consider myself gay. I liked girls, even though they didn't return the favor very often. As for guys, I would check other guys out in the shower, but that was it. Certainly nobody ever got my attention like Tom had, and I was convinced that nobody ever would.
My sex life in high school was almost non-existent, and I wished that even that one instance never happened, because it pretty much destroyed me. I had gone steady with this neighborhood girl for a few weeks, and when we were alone in the woods we started exploring each other's bodies.
I got to feel my first breasts that afternoon, groping Sue Paige's plump tits like they were bike horns, and in return Sue reached into my pants and pulled out my cock.
"Wow! Your dick is really little," Sue said as she held my throbbing erection in her hand, making a face at what she was holding as she pulled on it a couple of times.
I came almost immediately after that, humiliated at the way she spoke but not enough to have it affect my orgasm. Sue moved on to what I'm sure were bigger and better things, and I retreated farther into my shell, determined not to let myself get crushed like that again.
That was the extent of my sex life. One hand job from Sue Paige, whose amusement at my endowment had managed to take much of the enjoyment out of that, and about 5,000 orgasms that I brought on myself, mostly inspired by Tom. Time after time I would stare at those yearbook pictures of Tom; the one of him wrestling and the other one of Tom on the rings, executing a perfect Iron Cross.
That grainy black and white photo of Tom in his gymnastics uniform, with his shoulder and arm muscles rippling and his chest practically bursting out of the skimpy uniform, never failed to excite me, and even though he was wearing trunks in those photos, I managed to make them disappear in my mind as I recalled those days in the locker room.
Chapter Four: Invitation.
All of those thoughts raced through my mind as we chatted outside the store. A better description of the conversation would be that Tom spoke while I listened and nodded, because his life was a lot more interesting than mine. While he spoke of his upcoming trip out west to start college and continue his athletic career, all I could manage was that I was going to go to the state college in town.
What else could I have added? I imagined that if I told him that I had spent a considerable amount of my life masturbating while looking at his yearbook picture, I would find myself on the ground picking up what was left of my teeth. With his strength and size advantage over me, he could and would probably crush me like a grape without even trying if I ever told him that, even if I assured him that I wasn't gay.
"Say, you want to come over to my house?" Tom said after a few minutes.
"Me?" I asked, as if there was anybody else around us at the time, and I started to panic as I tried to find an answer.
"Uh... sure," I managed to say, and mentally patted myself on the back for not making the same mistake twice.
So we walked down the street to the cul de sac his house was, Tom talking and me mostly listening. My heart was racing as we headed around the bend to his place. I knew right where he lived, even though I had never been there, because I managed to ride my bike nearby on a regular basis, hoping to see him by chance.
Instead of going into his house, he led me along the side and into the rear of the property, where a small building stood in the back of the spacious yard. It was a barn garage with a second floor, and as it turned out it was an little attic apartment which served as Tom's workout room as well.
Tom closed the door behind me after I followed him in, and then locked it, which I thought was a little weird. Tom seemed very relaxed about it however, and calmly showed me around the stuffy apartment. It was essentially a workout room with a cot and chair, along with a small bathroom. The ceiling was about 10 feet tall in the center of the room, but tapered down on the sides of the room, with thick beams running across that our heads barely missed as we walked under them.
"Not fancy, but it's got everything I need," Tom said. "It's like my Fortress of Solitude. My Mom isn't crazy about my lifestyle, but as long as I keep it out of the house she's pretty cool about it. How about your folks? They upset about it?"
I shrugged my shoulders, not really sure why he mother would object to him lifting weights, being a star athlete and getting a scholarship, but before I could ask him what he meant I got distracted. That might be an understatement, because I probably did a triple take when I saw what was attached to the side of beam we had just walked under.
"Like them?" Tom said, chuckling as he saw my reaction to the wrist bracelets hanging on the chains. "Hope so, even though they might be a little big on you."
I jumped when Tom's hand came up and grabbed me by the back of the neck, and as he applied a firm grip I winced and let out a startled grunt.
"I'm glad you took me up on my offer this time, Jimmy," Tom hissed in my ear as he kneaded my neck. "The last time I asked you, you shot me down. Remember?"
"I don't understand," I said, starting to hyperventilate as his iron grip tightened a little more.
"The last time, back in 9th grade," Tom reminded me. "I asked you to come over and you said no."
"No, I mean... I don't understand any of this. What my parents think about what?"
"You being queer," Tom said.
"Queer?" I answered in a chirp that made me sound very much like that. "I'm not queer."
"Neither am I," Tom whispered as he pulled me closer to him. "The rest of the world is. Here. I know what you want."
As he spoke, his free hand grabbed mine and brought it down toward his crotch. I struggled to get out of the grip he had on both my wrist and my neck, and I did get free, although that was only because Tom let me escape.
"What's wrong?" Tom said as he stood between me and the door.
"I think you got the wrong idea," I said.
"Then that must be because you're sending out the wrong signals. Why did you come up here with me then?" Tom wanted to know. "Just to talk about the old times?"
"Well, yeah," I answered, the tension in this oppressive attic making me sweat like a pig as my head spun. "Look, I gotta go."
"So go," Tom said with a shrug, stepping aside to let me past him.
I took a couple of quick steps but slowed as I neared the door. My hands went to the lock, holding the knob with a hand that was visibly shaking, but I couldn't make it move.
"Just turn it to the left," Tom said as he came up behind me, his breath hot on my damp neck. "That is, if you really want to leave."
Chapter Five: What I want.
"I don't," I started to say, stammering nervously. "I mean, I'm really not, you know."
"That right?" Tom said, his hand gently but firmly moving my hand off the lock before turning me slowly to face him. "Well then, let's talk about the old days."
"I remember the way you used to look at me in the showers at school," Tom continued. "Didn't take me long to figure out your routine, but then the other guys started telling me about the way you would stare at my cock while I showered."
"They did?" I said, and this time when Tom's hand came up to my neck it was firm but not painfully so.
"Sure they did," Tom explained, making me realize why I always got snickered at a lot. "Of course, I had to tell them how offended I was that a little fruit like you was checking me out, but I really wasn't mad."
"I'm sorry," I mumbled as Tom led me back to the beam with the cuffs attached to it. "Didn't mean anything, I swear. I was just curious."
"I know, Jimmy," Tom said in an understanding voice. "Don't apologize. Don't you think somebody built like me gets looked at a lot? I liked you looking at me, and I could tell that you liked what you saw, didn't you? You liked looking at my big cock."
I looked at the bracelets and then at Tom, not knowing what to say. Finally, I just shrugged and averted my eyes downward.
"Thought so. Most people do. You remember the way to used to be so shy? Trying to cover up your stuff so that nobody could see?" Tom asked, and continued without waiting for an answer. "Would it make you feel any better if I told you that because of all your modesty, I never really got a good look at your dick even though I wanted to?"
I didn't know what to say. Hell, I didn't even know what I felt or what I wanted. I only knew that whatever Tom wanted me to do, I was going to do.
"What I could see of you though, gave me a little that you weren't - how should I say this? Not very well endowed?" Tom said as his hands came up to my shoulders. "Am I right? Look at me."
My eyes came up, and when they met Tom's I felt powerless to do anything but respond. My affirmative nod brought a smile to Tom's mouth as he took a couple of steps backward.
"Show me," Tom said. "Take off your clothes. I want to see all of you."
"Here?" I asked, and Tom nodded deliberately, adding only one word as I stood there.
Chapter Six: Following orders.
I stood there in the middle of the room, trembling like a leaf as I tried to make sense out of all this earth-shaking news. Tom was apparently gay, even though I know he was always around girls back in school, and not only that, he thought that I was gay too.
Even more outrageously, Tom wanted to see me naked. Me! The most pitifully underdeveloped and unattractive nerd on earth. Taking my clothes of in front of this magnificent example of manliness was absurd, yet that was what I found myself doing under Tom's intense watch.
I pulled my t-shirt up over my head, exposing my scrawny and hairless chest, which was just as pitiful as the rest of me. Tom didn't laugh, but I heard him exhale loudly as I held the shirt in my hand before he took it from me and tossed it aside as he nodded toward my shorts.
"Why do you want to see me... you know?"
"Probably the same reason that you want to see me naked," Tom suggested. "You do, don't you? You want to see me again - all of me - don't you?"
"Well?" Tom asked, raising his voice as he seemed to grow impatient with me.
My shaking hands fumbled with the buckle of my belt before I finally managed to get it opened, and as the weight of the belt brought my shorts down to the floor all I could think of was hoping that my underwear were clean. I fiddled with the elastic at the top of my pale white underwear, praying for a bolt of lightning to hit me and spare me the humiliation that was about to follow.
"You've got to be trying to get me pissed off or more excited," Tom said as he watched me delay the inevitable. "Either way, it's working. Get those underwear off before I rip them off for you."
Feeling like I was about to cry, I pulled down my underwear, bending over as I did to try and hide myself. After I stepped out of my briefs and straightened up, I cupped my hands over my genitals, using both even though one would have been sufficient, but Tom would have none of that.
"What's the matter?" Tom said.
"I'm scared," I confessed, even though it seemed so obvious that it didn't need to be said.
"Scared of what?" Tom asked.
"You know," I said. "I mean, I never did this before."
"Really?" Tom said, sounding surprised. "I thought you were just playing around to get me hot. You mean you've never been with a guy before?"
I shook my head vigorously as I gave my dick a little squeeze, trying to get a little life into it as it tried to shrink into my intestines in fear.
"That makes it even better," Tom said. "Move your hands for me. Now."
"The window," I said, looking straight ahead to the large window which gave an completely unobstructed view of the back of Tom's house, and of course allowed his mother to see up here if she wanted to. "Can't you close the curtain?"
"Mom wouldn't approve of that," Tom said with a chuckle.
"But if she looks up this way, she can see - you know."
"I'm waiting," Tom snapped. "Or are you the type that needs to pretend they're being forced into doing things they really want? You know you want to show me your dick."
Slowly, I pulled my hands away from my crotch and stood there, feeling even more naked than I was. I had my eyes almost screwed shut as I waited for the expected laughter, or at least a chuckle, as I stood there with my knees actually knocking.
Instead, all I heard from Tom was a loud swallow as he looked at my little toadstool of a penis sitting under a sparse little tuft of hair, with my nuts contracted into a taut wrinkled and hairless sac from fright.