A Summer of Firsts - Reimagined

His dick was already hard. It had been hard most of the day it seemed. His balls ached. He borrowed one of his uncle's favorite sayings and told himself to shit or get off the pot. Decision made he opened the cabinet under the sink as quietly as he could. Of all the options he had considered, this one, while not perfect, seemed the best he could do.

Not wanting to risk turning on a light, he found what he was looking for by feel and retrieved it. He was careful not to disturb the other tools. He suddenly knew, knew for a fact, his mother was going to come striding into the kitchen with a knowing and contemptuous look on her face. She would demand to know why he was standing in the middle of the kitchen, jeans tented, with a bag containing an 8 ounce bottle of Jergen's hand lotion in one hand and a screwdriver in the other. He bolted for the stairs and raced up them in an awkward bowlegged stance in order to tread on the outside edges of the risers, minimizing the creaks.

He closed his bedroom door and stood there for long minutes, panting in fear. When his heart and breathing slowed sufficiently, he listened quietly, listened for opening doors, creaky stairs, his mother's angry accusations. All he heard was the usual groans and complaints from lumber that had long ago grown weary of supporting the weight of the house. Even the cicadas were quiet tonight, having already mated and died.

Nick took a minute to curse himself for being a frightened little scaredy-cat. He almost called himself a pussy but his mind balked. That word was too close to fairy for comfort. He tossed the bag on the bed and looked at the screwdriver. It was old and large, the biggest one in the tool kit. He examined the hard wooden handle carefully, running his fingers over it, feeling for any rough spots, or worse, splinters. He wasn't sure what wood the handle was made of, ash perhaps, but it was worn smooth. The shank was metal of course, and it was rusty, but that did not matter. The shank would be the handle after all, the true handle being intended for an altogether different purpose. Unbidden, he heard his grandmother's voice in his head, telling him as she stashed yet another bread bag in the drawer that "everything has a least two uses."

He had the totally bizarre notion of calling her and telling her how very right she was. He shook the thought from his head and tossed the screwdriver onto the bed before stripping off his clothes. His hands smelled of hamburger and onions but he knew from experience that no amount of scrubbing would be able to banish the odor.

He laid down on his bed and began to pull at his dick. It was already getting hard. He didn't think this would take long. He'd been on the edge of busting a nut all day. He fumbled the hand lotion out of the bag, letting the empty bag drop to the floor. He twisted the pump open and pretended to consider not doing what he had been thinking about for days before squirting the lotion on the handle of the screwdriver. He used his left hand to spread the lotion over the handle before reaching below his balls to rub what remained of it over his asshole.

After wiping lotion over his asshole, he moved his left hand under his leg and tugged his butt cheek to one side. His right hand held the screwdriver by the shank, near the handle. Reaching under his right thigh, he started to rub the smooth rounded handle against his asshole. He pressed and it hurt. He cussed at himself, telling himself to relax and reminding himself, somewhat disgustingly, that he crapped bigger than the handle.

He took a breath, held it, tried to relax, and pushed again. He felt a flare of pain and almost stopped but instead, pushed a little harder. The handle shouldered aside his sphincter and entered his ass. He gasped at the penetration and did nothing for several heart beats, then he pushed a little more. It was easy now. With no difficulty, he inserted the entire length of the handle.

He paused then, considering how it felt. He decided, weird as it seemed, that it felt good. He tried moving the handle in and out. That felt even better. He jiggled the handle. That felt good too. It did not occur to him that what he was enjoying was having his ass fucked.

He switched hands, holding the shank of the screwdriver in his left now. He began to move it faster, not yet touching his dick. He watched, fascinated as the movement in his ass caused his dick to pulse and swell. The most wonderfully crampy pleasure/pain combination built behind his balls. His movements became too vigorous and the handle slipped out of his ass. He panicked for a second, afraid it would hurt going back in. It didn't. It slipped back inside easily, as his ass gave it a prodigal's welcome home.

As Nick reached for his cock with his right hand, inspiration struck, whether the source was Eros or Satan or neither is a question everyone must answer for themselves. Without letting go of the screwdriver or his dick he pulled his legs up, way up, over his head. His ass was in the air, his left hand fucking it with an old wooden screwdriver handle and his dick was pointed at his mouth.

He opened wide as he pushed, hard, on the screwdriver. The whole handle penetrated him. His sphincter closed around the cold steel shank. As his cock started spewing over his face, he frantically wiggled the screwdriver in his ass, having no idea he was stimulating his prostate. Cum sprayed into his hair, eyes, face and mouth. He opened his mouth wider and pointed his cock, no longer jerking it, desperate to get as much of his load into his mouth as he could manage.

He swallowed, licked his lips, and swallowed again. His right hand abandoned his dick and he licked his fingers. He wiped cum off his cheek and out of his eye and greedily sucked it off his fingers. He decided his cum didn't taste bad. It certainly didn't taste salty. It made his mouth feel a little puckery like biting into a not quite ripe persimmon but beyond that he couldn't describe the taste. It didn't matter. He couldn't explain why but he felt compelled to get as much cum as he could into his mouth.

Sated, he allowed his legs to fall back as he pulled the screwdriver from his ass, surprised that it hurt as he did so. He let it drop between his legs and fell asleep almost instantly.

While not technically the first time Nick had had something in his ass. It was the first time he fucked himself.

It was also the first time he ate his own spunk.

-

He woke to the sound of his mom calling his name. Heart thudding, he scrambled to pull the sheet over his naked body before realizing she was calling him from the foot of the stairs.

"Nick?!" He heard the irritation in her voice and understood that she must have already called him several times. He struggled to find his voice, hoping to forestall her bounding up the stairs and demanding to be heard.

"What?" he croaked loudly, making no effort to hide his own irritation.

"Don't snap at me. Do you want anything from the store. I'll stop after I get my hair fixed."

"No. I worked all night. I just want to sleep."

Sleep was the last thing on his mind. He became aware of the screwdriver lying between his legs. The memory of last night washed over him in a wave of disgust and self-revulsion.

He heard his mother's indignant "harrumph," followed by the squeak and bang of the screen door. He sprang from the bed. Feeling the tug of dried cum on his skin. He remembered how he had licked and sucked at his fingers and felt sick. He felt sicker when he looked down at the bed. The screwdriver lay there. The sheets were smeared with something whitish brown he could only assume was shit and hand lotion. There was a darker spot of rusty brown he took to be blood.

Holy fuck. He'd probably torn up his insides. He felt his belly with his hands. Probed his body mentally, searching for signs of impending peritonitis. It would kill him, of that there could be no doubt, since he would never tell a soul in the world what was wrong or how it had happened.

He gingerly worked his fingers into his ass crack. It was slick. And it was tender.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

His eyes darted around the room as he tried to make sense of this disaster. First things first he decided. He yanked on a pair of gym shorts and jerked the sheets off the bed and grabbed the screwdriver, being careful to grab it by the shank end. He hurried downstairs and bolted into the laundry room, dropping the screwdriver into the sink. He squirted gobs of Shout on the stains on the sheet and tossed it into the washer.

As the washer filled with hot water, he turned his attention to the screwdriver. His mouth twitched in disgust. The handle was smeared with shit.

"What did you expect dumbass?" He sneered at himself. "You shoved the fucking thing up your ass you, fucking homo."

He wasn't even aware of it but that was the first time he thought of himself as a homo.

--

He sprinkled some Tide over the screwdriver and ran some hot water into the sink. He cleaned it, ignoring the brownish tint of the water as it drained. He rinsed the screwdriver, his hands, and the sink with water so hot it threatened to scald him. He dried the screwdriver with paper towels and returned it to the tool kit beneath the sink.

He ran back upstairs. He considered throwing out the Jergen's but settled for putting it atop his dresser and headed to his bathroom. He didn't have a shower. He dropped the gym shorts to the floor and adjusted the water. He climbed in, knelt with his back toward the tap and leaned over his legs, letting the warm water wash into, and over, the crack of his ass. He didn't look at the water, not wanting to see anything that would remind him of last night. When he was sure the water had washed anything really gross off his ass, he fitted the stopper and let the tub fill.

He soaked until the water began to get cold, then he washed. He told himself over and over that what he had done last night was an aberration. He had let himself get too wound up, too excited. He would stay away from the mall, the mall's bathroom and never do that again. He told himself he should stop masturbating, too. Tomorrow was Sunday. He'd surprise his mom and go to church with her. He never should have stopped going. This is what happens when sleeping late on Sunday becomes more important than God.

He dried, dressed and hung his sheets out on the line. Needing something to do besides thinking about how perverted he was, he weeded the garden and was half done mowing when his mom drove up. He knew she would prefer him to finish mowing so he let her carry in the groceries. He also knew she would assume he was doing his chores without being asked because he felt guilty about snapping at her this morning. He didn't but if it kept her from asking questions, so much the better.

By the time the mowing was finished and he ate some lunch it was time to go to work. He closed again. His mom said nothing when he joined her for church the next day. He wrote his girlfriend a letter and went to bed early.

--

The following night he gave up on his no more jerking off promise. As he came, he recalled how intense the feeling had been when he came with the screwdriver in his ass. There was no way he was going to do that again. What a pain it had been to clean up. He considered buying rubbers. He could put one over the handle to keep it from getting dirty. The vision of his mom's face if she found a rubber in the trash killed that idea.

Cleaning up after supper he thought of a solution, having forgotten already, or deciding to ignore, the fact he had sworn he'd never do anything as gross as putting something in his ass again.

He bought his own Cokes. His mom would not pay for anything more expensive than Royal Crown Cola. He often took a Coke up to his room when he went to bed. That night he also took a piece of Saran wrap tucked in his jeans pocket.

When he couldn't avoid thinking about what he intended to do he tried to convince himself it wasn't that weird. He wrapped the Coke bottle in the Saran wrap. He was getting ready to strip when he ducked into his bathroom and made himself take a dump. Back in his room, he squirted lotion on the Saran wrap. He couldn't really lay in bed given the bottle did not come equipped with a handle. Instead, he sat it on the floor and squatted over it. Steadying himself with one hand on the mattress, he let his weight settle on the bottle. He reminded himself to relax.

The bottle slipped in with much less fuss than the screwdriver and with almost no pain. Nick found he could gradually let more of his weight rest on the bottle. He never got close to the wide flare in the middle of the bottle but still it was a lot bigger than the screwdriver handle.

Not wanting to make a mess on the floor, he came in his hand. Eating and licking his fingers clean was simply being efficient he told himself, and wasn't really all that weird.

-

The following Friday when he got home from work, day shift this time, his mom reminded him she was going with her sister to Quincy for the weekend for a craft show. She asked, for the sake of form, if he'd like to go. And, for the sake of form, he pretended to regret having to work. She reminded him there was plenty of food in the fridge. She didn't tell him not to have any parties while she was gone, the very idea of doing so never crossed either of their minds.

He was rummaging for his keys when the phone rang. There was a mix up in the schedule. They didn't need him to come in. Would Nick like to take the day off? He needed the money but said yes. He looked at the keys in his hand, bounced them in his palm and weighed his options. He nodded to himself, closed his fist around the keys, and headed to his car. But first he took off his sneakers and his pants He then removed his tighty-whities and tossed them into the laundry room before putting his pants and sneakers back on.

He heard the rush of feet as he entered the bathroom. The guy with the blue eyes and button jeans stood at the urinal. Nick could tell he was only pretending to pee. Nick moved toward him and instead of simply unzipping his pants, he unbuckled his belt, opened the snap, and unzipped. He pulled his already hard cock from his jeans as he faced the guy in the button jeans. The guy smiled.

"Wasn't sure I'd see you in here again."

Nick said nothing. He simply stared at the guy's hardon.

Nick pretended not to know what was going to happen when button jeans knelt down but he didn't pull away when the hand wrapped around his dick. When the guy's head moved forward, Nick's hips moved to meet him.

Nick shivered as the man's lips closed over the head of his dick. He shivered again as he took the length of his dick into his mouth and throat. When he pulled his mouth back over Nick's cock, his hand followed. With pursed lips, button jeans bobbed rapidly over the head of Nick's cock and as his hand continued to stroke the shaft.

Nick was only vaguely aware that the stall door had opened and another man stood there with his pants around his ankles, jerking off as he watched Nick get his first blow job.

When Nick began to thrust more forcefully to greet the mouth on his cock, button jeans stopped and stood up. He continued to hold Nick's cock with one hand. The other man began to stroke Nick's arm.

"What do you want to do, man? Want me to finish sucking you? You into fucking? You want to fuck me? Want me to fuck you?"

Nick started to speak. His voice cracked and he started over. "I want to put my mouth on you," he was finally able to whisper.

"Sure man, that'd be cool." The guy with the clear blue eyes looked at Nick. "You ever done that before?"

Nick shook his head.

"That's cool, no sweat. I'll let you do as much as you want. That cool with you?"

Nick nodded as button jeans took a step back and wrapped his fingers around the base of his own cock, offering it up to Nick's virgin mouth.

Nick knelt. The floor was cold and hard on his knees. He switched positions, sitting on his haunches. The man in the stall reached down and pulled his pants up with one hand and closed the space between them. Nick glanced at him a second before turning back to button jeans. Nick's hand was shaking when he touched the cock.

It was the first time he had ever touched another cock.

It felt different somehow. He didn't know why. He'd felt his own dick often enough but this one felt different. Nick began to stroke the cock, marveling at the satin smoothness that covered the steel hard shaft. As he stroked, he leaned ever so slowly, closer. He could smell the guy's crotch now. The musky scent was familiar. He'd smelt it often enough on his own hands after jerking off.

Button jeans never moved, never pushed. He waited. When Nick's lips finally brushed against the head of his dick, he very gently rested one hand on Nick's head.

Nick had never imagine it would feel like this, soft and hard at the same time. The head of the cock was spongy. He could compress it with his lips but just behind it, the shaft was rigid, like warm steel wrapped in velvet. Nick could taste him, taste the musk and fresh sweat, taste the pre-cum that leaked from the slit. He reveled in the taste, reveled in the feel and in the scent.

Final barrier breached, Nick did his best to copy what button jeans had done to him. He began to gag before he could get all the cock in his mouth and the guy's hand had grown firm on his head, forcing him back. Nick heard him breath, "Easy," and knew it was for his benefit. He pulled back, giving himself a second to breath. He stroke the cock with his hand.

Button jeans had not done this to Nick but Nick was desperate to taste him so he ran the tip of his tongue over the guy's piss slit. Both button jeans and stall man groaned, "Yeah." Nick swirled his tongue around the crown, then popped it back into his mouth. He moved his mouth back and forth, stroking and squeezing with his hand. The way the guy's fingers twisted in his hair made Nick assume he was doing this right.

Nick felt another hand on his head and something warm pressed against his cheek. When he turned, the man from the stall was standing beside him. He had brushed his hardon against Nick's cheek. Nick stared at the other cock. It was different somehow. It took Nick a moment to make sense of it. He was gazing at his first uncircumcised cock. Weird.

He took the stall man's cock in his mouth, using his other hand to steady it. The man shuffled to stand beside button jeans. Nick began to alternate between the two cocks, sucking and stroking one while stroking the other.

The man from the stall panted, "I'm going to cum," and started to pull away. Nick's mouth, his eager mouth, followed him. The man moaned, "Oh fuck yeah, kid," and then Nick's mouth was full. He swallowed reflexively but not fast enough. He could feel the cum begin to run down his chin. He tightened his grip as he milked the last of the man's honey. Nick sat back on his heels, wiped his chin and licked his finger.

He had just sucked his first cock to completion. His second followed almost immediately.

Nick turned his head and took button jeans' cock back in his mouth. He began to move his lips rapidly over the crown of the man's cock. Button jeans put both of his hands on Nick's head, and despite his best intentions, his hips began to thrust. Nick didn't mind. Nick didn't mind at all.

The man from the stall continued to stroke his wilting cock as button jeans began to unload into Nick's mouth. Nick pulled back, mouth open, so the man could see the sperm firing into Nick's mouth and over his lips.

Nick's first facial.

--

ALTERNATE ENDING:

The man from the stall zipped himself up and tussled Nick's hair in appreciation as Nick continued to suck at button jeans' cock. Checking himself quickly in the mirror, the man turned and left.