Give it to me Straight: Jonas

I had a moment of weakness. A lapse in judgment that should not cost me my entire future. It did not help that every fucking asshole within a ten thousand mile radius has a cell phone on them and everyone seems ready to record before maybe considering they should step in to do the right thing. I would have listened if someone had told me to stay, if someone had told me to hang tight that it was better to face the consequences, take responsibility for what I had done. But I didn't, I got scared and I fucked up and now -- well I found myself in a horrible situation.

My name is Adrian Bottelli, by the way, and this all started four days ago when I was driving home from a party. My best friend Steve and his girlfriend decided to throw a huge rager at his place and we partied until well past 2am. It was great, Steve's house is huge and the bedrooms upstairs had a constant stream of couples and groups banging and fucking and I think some even got into Steve's parents' toys, I saw some chick walking around with a double delight strapped into her, and she was wearing a dog leash and collar. I can't imagine people bring that to a high school party, though I also can't imagine why anyone would borrow someone else's dildos.

I always get tail, if I want it, and I wanted it that night. My choice from the available options was Leticia Jones. She was a tight, gorgeous black girl, she was a year ahead of most of us, back from college, and she and I had done some wild things when she was still in school with the rest of us. It was great to reconnect and it was great to see she had picked up some things in college, who says you don't really learn anything your first year? Just one example: she learned to it take up the ass, that had been off the table before and I was ecstatic it was on the menu -- she asked for it actually. She hated fucking with condoms and there ain't no baby oven at the end of that tunnel, her words, not mine. As if I was going to put up an argument and she needed to be persuasive!

After a great party, I headed home. I had only drunk two beers, I knew I was driving, I felt fine. It wasn't until the dark shadow crossed in front of me while I was going down Stuart Court, just half a mile from my house, that I remembered I had a fat blunt in my pocket. I had not wanted to smoke it -- because I knew I would be driving! I wasn't distracted, I wasn't texting, none of that -- and all of a sudden this thing, this animal runs across the street and hits my car. Or more precisely, I hit it with my car.

"Shit! Shit! Shit!," I was cursing and screaming and beating on my steering wheel. Here I was, captain of the football team, prom king, salutatorian, about to go to college in a few months, full ride scholarship to Clemson to play football, and I have alcohol in my system and a blunt in my pocket. It never occurred to me to throw the fucking blunt away. Why? It never occurred to me that Mayor Alvarez' fucking dog is always loose and it's fucking Mayor Alvarez' fault. My mind seized on this scenario where the cops search me, find the blunt, test my breath and everything ends. To be honest, at first I was not sure what I had hit, I thought maybe I would be lucky and it was a deer, or a true stray. But I was pretty sure the shadow I saw had a white streak down it's side, just like Jonas, the Mayor's dog. I got out of my car and went to the whimpering animal and confirmed it was indeed him.

Not sure what to do, I picked up poor Jonas, named after Joe, I was told, and walked him back to the Mayor's front porch less than 100 feet away and set him a few feet from the front door, off to the right. I laid him down, he was whimpering. I picked up a heavy rock (Don't go there, I'm not a miscreant!). I went back to my car and careful not to hurt the animal, I threw the rock at the Mayor's front door and sped away.

Relieved to be home, I went upstairs and stripped naked. I have always loved being naked and love the feeling of hot water washing every care away. After I toweled myself off, I walked back into my room, again naked, and took my phone out of my pants to leave it charging overnight. I noticed two messages had come in while I was showering.

"Who the fuck is messaging at this hour?" I mumbled to myself.

My whole world turned upside down with those two messages. Both were from Jordan, my neighbor from across the street. We had been close as kids but he came out when he was 14 and would not stop hitting on me. As much as I would ask him to stop, he kept pressing the issue and joking about how he would conquer me and take my hole and shit like that. It was really offensive and demeaning and he just would not stop. I finally told him we were done being friends. We had not spoken much in 4 years, just the occasional nod at neighborhood events.

Now, don't get me wrong, I am not some neanderthal who has never lent a helping hand, or accepted one, and I am not going to beat someone up if they offer to suck my cock. It's doubtful I would let them, but it's not the point. Be fucking polite! Be a human. Just because I look like Adonis reincarnated and I have the ass of Derek Jeter in his prime, does not mean you get to objectify me. I am not above beating the shit out of rude people. Hell, even that night when I hit Jonas -- shit, poor fucking Jonas -- even that night Steve and I doubled up on Leticia. That was another thing she learned in college. Our cocks touched, he wanted to also fuck her without a rubber and took my dick out when I was spent. But he's a friend and he's pure gold, I trust him to touch every one of my glorious inches!

Anyway, the first message was just a video. It was a video of me, getting out of my truck, picking up Jonas and carrying him to the Mayor's porch. My heart sunk to the floor. I remembered the fucking blunt and immediately flushed it down the toilet. I went back, the second message read, "Turn on your lights and stand at the window. I know you sleep naked."

He would have known that how? I didn't remember telling him but he had become friends with a couple of my exes, maybe that's how.

"Fuck off," I wrote back.

"OK, Adrian, but I will be sending this to Mayor Alvarez tomorrow, and to Clemson admissions," he replied.

Shit! How did he know about Clemson? There had been a story in the town newspaper, fucking journalists! "This isn't right Jordan. It's very fucked up!"

"So is hitting a dog and running away," he replied.

He was right about that. If this was the price to pay, then I deserved it. I flicked on my lights and went and stood at the window.

"Why the fuck were you out there at this hour?" I asked. I mean, it was 2:30am, who is out walking around at this time of night with a phone strapped to his fucking wrist?

"No that it's any of your business but the Uber dropped my off a block away so I wouldn't make my dad, he worries. I fucked Luke Lottoro and that took a while," he said.

I thought about that. Luke was one of my wide receivers, I loved the guy and had tag teamed a couple of theater gals with him. Why the fuck was he fucking around with shitty, pile of talking refuse, Jordan Koplowski?

"I want to see you hard," a new message from Jordan.

"Dude, this is really fucking shitty of you, I am jacked up on adrenaline still, this is absolute asshole behavior!" I sent back a voice message, I was pissed.

"It was shitty of you to abandon me because I was gay," he replied.

"I have tons of gay friends. I cut you off because you're an asshole, and this here proves it. A friend would try to help," I texted back.

"I am helping, I am helping you be redeemed. I am your path to taking responsibility," he said in a voice message that sounded like a voice over tryout for Lord of the Rings.

"I am not doing this," I replied.

"You are or goodbye Clemson, goodbye future, hello prison," he texted back.

I was close to tears. I didn't care if the whole world saw me jerking off. I have a great cock, I love sharing it. I think half the school has seen me naked, either because I like streaking a lot or because it's a chick and I fucked her good. I mean, it's a chubby, fat 8.5 inches, of course it's going to fuck good. And I don't skimp on preliminaries. Those women are there for me, I am there for them. But this asshole was coercive and a fucking lowlife. But what could I do? I ran, I really, actually ran.

I switched my phone to a porn video from my favorite site and jerked off in front of my window. I could see movement in Jordan's room as he pulled his curtains further apart. He was probably jerking off or recording this. I hated him, but what could I do? I wanted to get off and get this over with, so I focused on the video and started pulling on my dick, long tight strokes, the full length from the base to just under the head. I could feel the blood building up and it became pleasant to touch my now hard dick. One girl had taught me a cool trick, she had licked the palm of her hand, slobbered on it really, and she took my cock and painted small circles on the inside of her hand. It felt amazing and I had picked up the habit.

I was doing this when another message came in. Fuck him, I thought. I continued as I was for just a bit longer. Eventually I switched to my favorite, the two fisted stroke. I am certain that is everyone's favorite, it has to be, when your palms are stacked along your fat shaft and you can still see the head popping out, foreskin coming on and off a creamy dick head? Everyone loves that! Another message, what could be so fucking important?

The first message was OBE, "Move your fucking hand, I want to see!"

The second was infuriating. "Finger your hole," he was ordering me.

Now, if you think I'm some scared straight boy who has never fingered his hole, you don't know my generation. But if you think I like being told what to do by some spoiled, arrogant asshole, you don't know me. In my only small victory that night, I massaged my hole but never actually inserted my finger. To be honest, it felt really nice. It had been a very long time since I had done it last. Maybe after Jordan fucked off, I would do it again for my personal pleasure and actually say hello to my prostate.

I thought of every sexy thing I could think of and was about to come into my shirt when I imagined the asshole would be upset if he could not see me cumming (Why did I even care?). So, I pointed my fat hose at the window and blew my load all over the glass. It was a great load, not as big as the one Leticia Jones had up her ass that night, but it was big.

The next morning I woke up and went about my normal Sunday routine. I had slept in, took another quick shower, cleaned up a ton of spooge off my window -- that's not really part of the routine -- and dressed to go for a jog -- which that day had meant socks, running shoes and onion skin running shorts. It was a great run around the neighborhood, I went a full six miles. On my way back home, I passed in front of Mayor Alvarez' house just as he was returning from the vet's office. My heart sank again. They were still wearing their robes and pajamas and Mrs. Alvarez was crying.

"Mayor, Mrs. Alvarez, what's going on?" I asked.

The Mayor shook his head, he came and gave me a tight hug. I was sweaty and I thought I felt him take a deep wiff, but in that moment of distress, would he really be horned up after a sweaty, shirtless, 6'3" high school quarterback with 4% body fat, perfect teeth, no underwear, eyes the color of an Icelandic sky, wearing only onion skin shorts and a glorious mane of blond, curly hair? It seemed unlikely.

When he did finally pull away, I could tell he was upset.

I asked him again, "What's going on, why are you in your PJ's, is everyone OK?"

The Mayor shook his head again and hugged me once more, letting his head rest on my sweaty chest, while he wept softly. I comforted him and felt horrible doing it, I had caused his misery and here I was pretending to provide a shoulder, or in this case a tight, square, thick pectoral slab that, together with the arm I laid across his back, had carried the Titans through two undefeated seasons and two, name them, two state championships! Back to back!

The Mayor finally got a hold of himself, though he kept tugging at his robe as if he were cold. "It was Jonas, my sweet baby Jonas," he looked up at me with such sad eyes I felt horrible. "He was hit by a car yesterday, a hit and run, or hit, help and then run, I guess. Whoever hit him carried him to our porch and then left. I am not sure who would do that, our poor baby!"

"Is he OK?" I asked, desperate to hear that he was alive and would be fine.

"We don't know yet. They had to perform surgery on him and he's in recovery. We need to head inside, we are exhausted. It's been such a long night," the Mayor said, his voice was heavy and he looked like absolute shit.

I said goodbye and headed home, I was crushed. Jonas might not make it and it was my fault. Then it got so much worse.

When I arrived home, I immediately jumped in the shower and washed off all the sweat. When I came out of the bathroom I checked my phone which I don't take on runs, there were four messages from asshole.

"Thought all night about your gorgeous cock."

"I love that I own it now, and I own your ass, you homophobic piece of shit!"

"Tonight you're not going to blow that glorious straight boy batter on the window, I am taking it."

"See you at 11:30"

FUCK! Fuck my life!

"I did your thing last night you fucking blackmailing piece of shit. It's over!" I wrote back.

"The fuck it is! It's over when I drop a load in your hole, that's when it's over. But I want this to be fun, I'm going to take my time with you, asshole," he replied.

"The asshole is usually the blackmailer you fucking scum!" he was really pissing me off.

"CLEMSON AND THE MAYOR, I HAVE THE MESSAGE DRAFTED. DARE ME TO DO IT!" he replied, all in caps like a screaming fucking witch.

That night I had dinner plans with my parents, but as with most Sundays, I liked to go to sleep early so I would be fresh for school. We had just a few major projects to turn in and some finals, but it was senior year, last semester, no one was riding us too hard. Still, this fucker was messing with me and my sleep schedule, I was steaming, raging furious.

I wanted to confide in someone but I felt like I might be involving them in some cover-up. I would pull them into my guilt. I would have told Steve, he was, he is my best friend, but Jonas sired a bunch of puppies in the neighborhood, because he's not fixed, and the fucking Mayor won't put up an electric fence or even a metal fence higher than three feet! Anyway, Steven's dog that he's had for three years, his best friend in life, even more than me, is Jonas' son. Seriously, fuck my life!

The whole day was miserable for me and by the time 11:30 rolled around, my parents were already in bed, I was jacked up on adrenaline again. I was infuriated and at the same time I felt completely impotent.

"At the door," came his message.

I didn't answer, I just walked over to the door and opened it. Cringe as fuck Jordan Koplowski walked into my house as if he owned it. He didn't even wait to be asked inside. I walked up to my room silently and he followed me, going on about 'this is the dream of a lifetime, my very own jock, can't wait to plow that boy pussy, blah blah blah.' Fuck him! If you are interested in what he looks like, then fuck you too. He was a shithead. The rest of him was a six foot tall asshole. Mr. Koplowski is the sweetest old man, just as kind as can be, he emigrated from Poland about forty years back when he was just a kid. He was always so nice to me, gave me candy, invited me to his swimming pool, took us camping and skinny dipping in the lake. He is just a sweetheart! How he bred and raised this vulgar obscenity of a human being, this cretinous, bad-mannered stack of talking shit is beyond me.

When talking anus walked in behind me, I closed my door, stripped off all my clothes and lay on the bed. "Do your shit and get out of my house." I told him.

He looked at me with a smarmy, nasty face and said, "You're not even hard."

I looked at him with every bit of disdain I felt and let him understand my deep disappointment that he was alive. "Listen, you try getting hard with the fucking Eye of Sauron blackmailing you. If you can't get me hard that's on you and your talentless face snatch."

He looked at me, full of defiance. He pulled his phone out and was looking for a place to set it down.

"What are you doing," I asked.

"Finding a good angle to record all of this, obviously. Fuck how did you even become salutatorian being this stupid?" he dared to fucking mock me. And he seriously thought he was going to get a spank bank deposit?

I grabbed his phone, opened my window and tossed it all the way to his front yard.

"You can go get your phone or you can suck my cock, you have five minutes," I said to him, though this is not even close to what I wanted to say.

He was pissed but I guess my cock was more interesting that making sure his phone wasn't broken because he quickly decided on meat whistle over Google Pixel. I was determined to stay soft and I fought for no wood. I thought of Bea Arthur, Homer Simpson, Judge Judy, even Madonna, but fuck if the asshole didn't know how to suck cock like a king. Thinking of Judge Judy may have been a mistake as well, that woman is five feet of dynamite!

It was clear Jordan loved my cock. That boy was taking his time and it was a sweet, sweet work of art. It was like he was a toothless meat sock full of warm mac and cheese. My cock slid in and out and the only hints of pressure I got were from his lips which he loved to keep sloppy and loose all the way down to the base of my cock, his throat which opened up for me and gave me amazing tingles all over, and his tongue which if it wasn't out licking my nuts and rolling them around inside his mouth, was like a third lip tickling the underside of my fat dick as he sucked. Why did he have to be such an asshole? I mean the blow job alone would have won me over. If he'd said, 'please Adrian, I know you are superior to me in every fucking way imaginable, may I please show you how well I can suck a cock and if you are displeased you can banish my shitty ass forever,' I would have maybe thought about it. This was good head!

I couldn't let him know I was enjoying it, I was hoping the stream of pre-cum he was swallowing and the granite hard state of my cock would not give anything away, but it was tough to deny how talented this asshole was with my yogurt slinger. He was on his best behavior and focused on my cock until I finally could not hold it anymore and unleashed a thick load into his mouth. He ate every last drop, milking my cock until I finally kicked him away with my foot.

"I think you enjoyed that," he seemed to be so proud of himself.

"Even monkeys know how to give head," I told him, as I held open the door for him to leave.

"Tomorrow your ass is mine," he said, whispering it to me like some movie villain as he was passing through the door.

"Fuck you!" I told him. "That is not ever happening."

"Clemson and Mayor Alv -"

"Shut the fuck up. Besides, I am away tomorrow, at my aunt's house until Wednesday morning," I needed to buy time, this was getting out of hand.

The next day at school I got a couple of messages from shithead. Moron speak like, "Humpday is my day," with an eggplant emoji. The worst was a selfie of him hard, shirtless, stroking his nasty pud. Asshole.

This had to end and as soon as I got home from school, I decided to come clean, whatever the cost. I told my dad everything, everything. He was furious but said we needed to talk to Mayor Alvarez, Rafa, as my dad called him. They went to high school and college together and were pretty good friends.