Stumbling Ch. 05

Richey had been somewhat of a phantom the next morning. His truck wasn't in the parking lot when I arrived. The only reason I knew he was even at school was a glimpse I'd seen of him from across the hall during a class change. We shared lunch and last period with Sumner. Until then, I'd have to be patient.

Lunch. Lunch meant Arthur Campbell. Arthur Campbell meant trouble. May as well get it over with, I thought as I marched down the hallway. My hand reached out for the double door push bar when a hand grabbed my shoulder. I spun around to see Richey.

"Follow me." He said.

Admittedly, I hadn't paid much attention to anyone's special bits. Gentlemanly or otherwise. Strange for a senior in high school, I know. I'd watched porn before, seen what I thought I was supposed to see. It always took an extreme amount of coaxing to bring myself off. Just kissing Richey had me ready to cream my pants last night. This may seem like the ramblings of some hormone crazed teenager, which means I must stress the point that this had NEVER happened to me before ever. Not with any of my girlfriends. Honestly, I had begun to think of myself as just not having a sex drive. I got the urge to cum, not the urge to cum for anyone in particular. Richey had changed that last night. The girls I'd dated out of some twisted sense of obligation had always confused me with their advances. I could never figure out if they were just bad at flirting. Turns out, I was just bad at being straight.

Mrs. Turner looked up at the two of us as we entered the library.

"Another tutoring session Mr. Kirk?" She asked sweetly. Damn her. If she had been talking to me, it would've been a step above hissing.

"No ma'am, we're working on a project together for Mr. Sumner's class."

"See that Mr. Kirk doesn't wind up doing all the work Mr. Doyle."

"Yes Ma'am." I gritted out between clenched teeth.

"That lady hates me." I whispered to Richey on our way to the back tables.

"She doesn't like any jocks."

"I'm not a jock!" I whispered loudly.

"No, but you look it muscle boy."

I blushed, remembering when I'd last heard him say that.

He laid out a couple of notebooks in front of us once we sat down. They had random notes from different classes spread out on their pages.

"This has nothing to do with our project."

"Please, I've seen how smart you are. We can write ten pages in our sleep. I just wanted to spend some time with you." He leaned in close to whisper in my ear. "You have no idea how much I'd love to sneak off with you right now. That was quite the picture last night."

"I wasn't sure you'd gotten that."

"Funny that. I woke up this morning to find a hot little muscle boy had sent me a down right sinful photo." A hand roamed over my thigh, a mere inch away from my already hard dick. "I've kept checking it throughout the day."

"I wasn't sure if I should do it or not, you know?"

"No I don't know. If you wanted me to want you, you didn't need to do anything."

"Oh fuck..." I moaned. One finger was running a nail down the length of my cock. It pulsed under his touch.

"It's a good thing no one comes to the library much. You look like you're about to cum in your pants. Not that I'm complaining."

"If you make me cum here, I swear I will kill you."

"Then stop me." He smiled.

"You're an evil bastard." I placed my head down on the tabletop. My breath came in pants. Sweat was starting to break out on my forehead. I laid my head on its side to look up at him.

"You're a sexy bastard though." I said.

"Compliments are always good." He gave my cock one last squeeze. "I'll have mercy on you. After all, I want you built up for when we get to your place." My cock throbbed at hearing this.

After a minute's breathing, we sat up straight. Our eyes searched the others for some sign of... well something.

"Where are we going with this?" I asked.

"Where do you want to go with this?"

"I'm not after a quick blowjob."

"Not even an ass fuck?" He joked.

"Do you always make jokes when people are trying to be serious?"

"Only when you're being serious."

"Look, I want more, okay? There I said it."

He sat back in his chair, looking quite pleased with himself. Smug jackass.

"I think the term you're looking for is 'boyfriend.'" He said quietly, air quoting the word.

I gulped, though didn't break eye contact. Above all else, I wanted him to see that I was serious about this. Our eyes stayed locked. My hand slid on top of his below the table.

"Richey, will you date me?"

His head nodded once.

"I'd love to. For your sake though, I'd recommend keeping it to ourselves for the time being."

"What do you mean for my sake?" I asked, a bit offended. Did he think I wasn't serious?

"Well, you are on the football team. You sit at the jock table. Are you telling me you're willing just to throw that all overboard when we just started this today?"

"You seem incapable of understanding that I am not some king of the school." I said, leaning forward. I pointed two fingers toward my eyes. "Look at me. I am a backup strong safety on a football team whose season has ended, a losing one at that. No school anywhere sent me the first scholarship offer. I. Am. Not. A. Jock. Those people don't know, nor do they particularly care about me. I'm just another nobody. They only talk to me out because I was on the team. No other reason."

"Are you blind?" He stared at me like he had all the answers. "Do you know what would've happened to anyone else who grabbed Arthur Campbell's arm like you did? Hmm?" The fingers of the hand not attached to mine thrummed on the table.

"I don't know. Probably a fight of some sort."

"You have no idea, do you?"

"About what?"

"Just how intimidating you are."

"Please." I pulled my hand back, attempting to cross my arms. His hand popped me in the kidney with a short jab. "Ow!" My hand was immediately scooped up by his when I dropped them to clutch my side.

"That's better." He said.

"If I'm so intimidating, then why ain't you cowering around me?"

"Because I've seen how you really are. Shy, quiet, thoughtful, considerate, someone who is just who he is without having to explain himself. Nobody else see's this, least not at this school. They all see a guy who doesn't look to others for any sort of validation. Maybe you're not the greatest football player-"

"Thanks."

"But you are strong, certainly for someone your size. You don't take crap off of anyone. Your... perfect." He finished on sigh, his eyes holding mine.

"You're delusional."

The bell went off overhead. Just as the dull hum of the electric note playing through the speakers finished, the sound of books cluttering to the ground came from behind a nearby shelf.

"The fuck?" Said a surprised Richey.

My pulse shot through the roof. I half expected to see some spying friend of one of my exes running out the library with her mini skirt flapping in the breeze. Instead, Larsen Nichols sheepishly walked out from behind the shelf.

"Hi guys." He gave a meek little wave from the waist.

"Were you listening Larsen?" I asked, deciding to get straight to the point. Less bull shit that way.

Richey gave me a strange look, almost as if he were saying 'be nice.'

"Yeah... I kinda sorta overheard the beginning. And then the middle... possibly the end."

His face was extremely red.

"Look guys, I swear to god I'm cool. I was just looking for a book. When I heard what you guys were talking about... well I couldn't help but listen."

"Why?" Richey and I both asked.

"Well, to be honest... the idea was kinda hot." Slowly, he met both our shocked gazes.

"This, I did not see coming." I said, stunned.

"Well, I may have."

Larsen and I both shifted out gazes to Richey.

"What?" He said. "He's not subtle about letting his eyes roam."

Larsen stood there with his mouth hanging open, redder than ever.

"Look," I said "We'll see about this later. We've got to get to class."

We all shuffled out the doors feeling awkward as hell.

Mr. Sumner's class passed quickly. The man had the unique ability to make the drivel that is a government prescribed history class somewhat interesting. It is quite embarrassing when you think about it. What do most U.S. history classes cover when they talk about the War Between the States? They go over three generals and four battles. Lee, Grant, and Sherman followed by Manassas, Antietam, Vicksburg, and Gettysburg. It's arguably the most important time in the nation's history, yet the chuckle fucks who set the curriculum think it's only worthy of two class periods. Meanwhile, I have to hear a week's worth of shit on where Christopher Columbus took a shit.

Watergate gets a day. Actually, a day is me being generous. If Richey and I spent more than forty minutes on our project, we would've covered more than we would have in the class where it was assigned. Which is why I spend my time in better ways. Much better ways. Firmer ways.

"Are you even paying attention?"

I looked up to meet Richey's eyes. He had a habit. Whenever he could pace, he would. My floor has developed a rut in it, I'm sure.

"Were you staring at my ass?"

"No, no." I waved a hand dismissively. "Just making sure you didn't sit in anything."

"Uh, huh."

Slowly, he stalked over towards me. Knees brushed past one another as he stood between my open legs. Hands descended down onto my shoulders.

"I suppose two hours is enough work for one night." He whispered, his face a few short inches from mine.

"It was closer to an hour and a half, if we're honest."

"Shut up."

Lips slowly glided against mine. I swear to god, there is something seriously underrated about taking your time. Little nibbles on my lips. Slow flicks of tongues up against one another. All of it adds up to a combination to drive me wild. My hands palmed his ass through his tight jeans. His hands worked their way down my chest. A sound bordering on a hiccup escaped me when nimble fingers found my zipper.

"Too fast?" He whispered.

"No... I just...I"

"No way," His eyes widened. Both hands flattened on my thighs. "You're a-"

"Yes. Okay? Yes. Look, I just-"

He cut me off with a quick kiss. With a quick plop, his ass rested sideways on my lap, his feet hanging over the edge of the old recliner I kept in the corner of my room. One hand played with the hair on the back of my neck while the other toyed with what peeked out the collar of my shirt. His forehead rested against mine while the sides of our heads lay against the plush chair.

"I think it's cute."

"Can you stop, please?" I moaned from embarrassment. He giggled in response.

"Come now, it's sexy too."

"How is being a virgin sexy?"

Our noses touched throughout this conversation, giving me the perfect view of his bright blue eyes and the shine they held.

"Oh, let's see..." He a finger from the hand that'd been on my chest down my jawline. "I get to train you just the way I want, for starters. Teach you what I like. You're like a new puppy who hasn't been taught any bad habits."

I chuckled at the comparison.

"So I'm a dog to you now? That's kinkier than I'm willing to get."

"You'll get used to me."

He gave me a quick peck before swinging his legs off me. His hips swayed a little as he slowly pulled his shirt up to reveal a pale flat stomach.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"Shut up and enjoy yourself."

"Ain't a striptease about as cliché as-" A shirt suddenly obscured my vision"

"Quiet you. You're supposed to be going crazy with desire here."

My eyes roamed up his lithe torso, admiring the lines. He wasn't as hairy as me. The treasure trail wasn't even noticeable unless the light hit it just right. Little pink nipples stood out on a firm set of pecs.

"I'm getting there. Keep going."

"Hey, this is a give and take type deal here."

I quickly ripped my shirt off. It wound up across the room somewhere.

"There. Proceed."

"You are absolutely no fun." He said laughing.

"How's this for fun?"

I stood up, abruptly ending his dance, if it could even be called that. My hands made short work of his belt and zipper.

"Someone's eager."

"Eighteen years will do that to a guy."

"I'm sure you can wait a few minutes more."

He was just as efficient with my pants as I was. We kicked out of our denim ankle cuffs.

"I didn't peg you for a boxer guy." I said.

"What, the gay guy needs to wear bikini briefs?"

"I wouldn't have minded."

"I'll be sure to pick some up for you."

I looked down to see a large tent in his plain, sky blue boxers. Cautiously, I tugged the waistband down until his dick flopped up against his stomach with its release.

"Impressive." I said as I stroked him lightly.

"Ohhh... Care to show me how impressive."

"Don't get cocky."

"Ha, cock."

"Sit." I said, as I pushed him back towards the recliner. "Bear with me on this?"

"I'll do my best darlin." He sat back in the comfy chair slowly stroking his long, thin cock.

Few things are as daunting as sucking a dick for the first time, especially if you've only been thinking about it for less time than it takes to cook chili in the crock pot. It's strange the things you think of in these times. The thought running through my head was how Stacey had once asked me to eat her out. I couldn't bring myself to get remotely turned on at the prospect. If memory serves, I told her I was a good boy waiting for marriage. Now, I was getting more turned on the closer his pulsing cock got to my face.

Can a taste sow peculiar be described? Probably not, but hey, it's worth a shot. Salty isn't the word. Salty is more like an undertone, largely masked by the musky taste and smell of man. Really, it's sensory overload. I felt like a rookie juggler being thrown in front of the circus for the first time. I licked my way around, feeling out the whole situation. The entire time, my dick was throbbing between my legs.

"Oh... Baby that's good. Just like that. You're doing great." He moaned while I bobbed.

It's an awkward role to play. At first. The more we went along, the more I got into it. The more he moaned, the more determined I became to milk every drop from him. My fingers gently rolled his balls as he writhed in the chair. I could tell he was getting close. They were starting to draw up.

"Fuck baby, if you don't want to swallow you'd best- OH FUCK!"

I wanted it. The head of his long, skinny dick hit the back of my throat. Next, came a volley of scalding hot spunk down my throat. I pulled back in time to catch the last two pumps on my tongue. He pulled me up, his mouth meeting mine with force in an effort to suck what remained from me, before his tongue swapped it back with me.

"Holy shit." He purred. "Not bad for the first at bat."

"I've heard I'm a quick learner."

"I'll be the judge of that. Now," He twisted us until he was in front of me while I took his old position. "I think it's my turn." He grinned up at me.

I'd like to believe I'm a porn star. Fact of the matter is, I'm not. Hard as a rock, I'm only a tad under six inches. Thickness counts for something though, or at least that's what I'm going with. Everyone who doesn't have a horse cock has surely thought themselves inadequate at one point. Want to know the cure for that? Having a hot as sin guy on his knees staring at your cock like it's a glass of water in the middle of the Atacama.

Duel moans exited us when his lips slid over my head. My eyes closed from the pleasure. Every lick, every flick of his tongue, every stroke of his hands as they massaged my sack was speedily sending me to ecstasy. There had been way too much going on before we even got to this point. My teeth damn near bit a hole through my lip due to my efforts to make this last just a little longer.

Alas, all good things must come to an end.

"Let it go babe." He said during a brief pull off.

"Oh damn, damn, damn..." I ended in a long moan as shot after shot went down his throat.

He milked every drop, tenderly licking along my softening shaft, only stopping when I pulled him off.

"Sorry that didn't go longer."

"Babe, that was perfect. Don't worry about it."

"It's just messing with you has me on a hair trigger to start with. Throw in blowing you and we're lucky I didn't cum before you even touched me."

"I think that's the best compliment I've gotten in a while."

"Don't get used to it."

We spent some time just cooling down after that, resting like we had before in the big chair.

"Why do you have a recliner in your room?"

"Well," I said while stretching a little. My arm had fallen asleep where Richey was leaning on it. "It was in the living room for years. When my mother-"

"Mom. For the love of god please say mom."

"When dear MOTHER," He shook his head. "Bought the new couches she bought a new recliner to go with it. That left nowhere to put this. She wanted to give it away while I love this damn chair. It was arranged to move it in here."

"It's one of the ugliest chairs I've ever seen."

He ran a hand over the plump, soft material of the arm rest. The chair itself was an oversized, green mixed with brown mixed with god knows what, mess. Plaid and sad as my mother once said. It sat well though. My ass had its own mold at this point.

"Is it comfy?" I asked.

"Eh." He didn't look impressed.

"You realize I'm dragging it out of this house through a window if a fire ever catches."

"Why?"

"Memories, like the corners of my mind." I began to sing. When I started to go into the next line, he slapped the back of my head.

Jealous of my vocal chords is all.

We parted ways at nine. He watched TV with my mother for an hour before deciding it was time to head home. My mother may be more accepting than previously thought. In fact I'm almost sure she knew something was amiss. Sideways stares can only be ignored so long. Headlights had just finished going across the living room wall when I heard the TV turn off, the remote clattering to the coffee table.

"So dear Boyo," She said, still reclined on the couch. For all the world, she looked like a queen on her throne, despite the pajama pants. "Do we need to have a sex talk or do you think I can trust you not to do anything too stupid?"

I'm sure my face was red. I know my eyes had bugged out. Ever just hear something you weren't ready for, even though you thought you were? My mother always had a way of knowing what you thought she was going to say, then taking another route just to mess with your head.

"Whatever do you mean?"

"Don't play coy. I may be dumb, but I ain't blind. Anybody can see you two are smitten with each other."

"Does this mean you're not mad?"

For all the 'I'm grown up' arguments we'd had in the past, never had I felt more like a little kid than then. Essentially, you're placing your happiness in the hands of someone else and hoping they don't ball it up while you watch. If she wanted, she could've cut me like a knife without ever leaving the couch.

"Honey, I'd never hate you over something like that. Tell me, do you remember your uncle Clemton? The tall one with the real tan skin?"

"You're half-brother?"

"That's the one."

Uncle Clemton died when I was nine. A drunk driver had t-boned him late one night in the winter. Can't say I was too torn up about. The only time I ever saw the man was Thanksgiving and Christmas. He was born to my Step-grandmother before she married my grandfather. He and my mother knew each other on a somewhat distant basis, as they were already grown when their parents had married. To my knowledge, he wasn't too close with anyone on our side of the family.

"What about him."

"He was gay."

There's something else I hadn't braced myself for. To actually here the word, to hear her say it, to know that she knew it applied to me. It was all surreal. Almost like an out of body experience where you can still feel your heart pound.