The Bamboo Ceiling Ch. 01

Notwithstanding, James could add one more enthusiastic conquest to his long list.

I put my headphones back on so that I wouldn't have to listen while I left my room. After I got back, I kept the headphones in to drown out any noise.

At around 10 PM, I left the safety of my bedroom to make a snack from the kitchen. Surely, I thought, she would have left or fallen asleep by now. I was mistaken. James was in the living room saying goodbye to Tiffany. Her hair was completely disheveled and she was wearing the dark button-down that James had been wearing earlier that afternoon.

By contrast, James was standing in the middle of the room with a triumphant smirk across his face. His dishwater-blond hair was tousled, and he was wearing nothing but a pair of jeans that he haphazardly put back on. His rippling abs and chest had a few red scratch marks. Everything about James seemed unattainable for me in ways that, though unfair, intrigued me. And between the two of them, why could I not stop staring at James?

"Will I get to see you again?" As Tiffany asked this, her hands raised beneath her face so that her fingers touched and the backsides of her hand framed the underside of her chin. So she was still playing the part of some "kawaii" fetish model.

"Sure. You're fun. I'll call you."

I could tell from her eyes that she was not satisfied with that blasé response. But she just kept up that painted smile and cheery tone. "Sounds great! See you!"

I caught Tiffany's gaze as she turned around and walked past me toward the door. I raised my hand to wave goodbye. In response, the edge of her mouth went up in a grimace, as if she was annoyed by my presence. As if to say that I wasn't worth the effort of a real acknowledgment, and that I was audacious to even try.

After she was out the door, James winked at me. "How were your games, bud?"

I didn't respond at first, but James just kept staring at me, waiting for a reply. He just loved to rub in the contrast between how we spent our evenings.

"Yeah, it was fun. How was your night?"

"Great! I've had better, but she was eager enough. Probably not a long-term fuck, but I'll add her to the list in case I'm bored one of these nights. Also, there's a mess in the dining room and the kitchen. Be a good boy and clean that up while I'm in the shower. And while you're at it, would it be any trouble for you to clean up my bedroom real quick? You're so good at making the bed; I'd love it if you took care of that for me."

"Sure," I replied, not meeting his gaze, "I'll take care of it."

After I cleared the dining room table, I went upstairs to James's room to clean up the mess that James and Tiffany had just made. Across the room, I saw a pair of lacey panties thrown against the wall opposite from Jame's bed. I walked over to the pair of panties and picked it up. The side and bottom strap of the slight, revealing underwear were completely ripped at the side and bottom. I inferred that James had grabbed Tiffany by the panties and ripped them off with one powerful pull. As I stood there holding the ripped fabric, I was reminded of similar experiences growing up with my older sister, Ari.

~~YEARS EARLIER~~

Ari was two years my senior. After my dad died, she helped my mom take care of me. As hard as mom worked to keep a roof over our heads, it would be fair to say that Ari practically raised me.

I loved Ari, and she did her best to take care of me. But her taste in men was her vice. Ari had a constant stream of boyfriends during her teenage years. And with no exceptions, she dated older white boys.

First, there was Mitch. Ari was only a freshman in high school and Mitch was a senior when they started dating. At first, my mother protested to Mitch staying the night. But after a "polite conversation," my mother stopped complaining. I still remember my indignation as Mitch towered over my mother, casually leaning against the frame of the open front door. Mitch would flash his devious smile at my mother, "Are you sure Mrs. Kim? Your daughter so generously offered to help me study." I recalled my shock as Mitch reached down to place his massive, linebacker's hand on my mother's shoulder. "I'd really appreciate it if you'd let me come in." My mother moved aside with her head bowed, and never complained about Ari's boyfriends after that.

Immediately after Mitched humped-and-dumped my sister, she started seeing Brandon. My sister dated Brandon until she graduated high school and then through her first years of college. Unlike Mitch, Brandon didn't even pretend to respect Ari or my mother. In fact, at school, Brandon treated Ari more like an ornament than a girlfriend. He would walk around the halls with his arm wrapped around her waist, guiding her movements and speed. He told her which classes she would take so that she could do his homework for him and so that he could cheat off of her exams. He made her study in the library until he finished football practice, and insisted on driving her home every evening. He controlled where she was and what she did during every hour of the day.

I remembered my resentment one evening when, while the three of us were watching TV on the couch, Brandon cleared his throat at Ari and nodded his head in the direction of her bedroom. She obediently got up and led him to the bedroom without questions. For the next several minutes, I could hear pounding coming from behind the closed door as Brandon fucked my sister.

At the time, I remembered experiencing a cocktail of rage and arousal in my newly post-pubescent brain. On the surface, I wanted to beat up Brandon. But I knew that, at most, Brandon would have dispensed of that effort with one punch and a laugh. And at a deeper level, I envied my sister.

My masculinity as a Korean boy was never celebrated in school. On the contrary, the larger, more masculine boys on the football team (almost exclusively white, black, or Latino) would tease me about my slender frame and soft features. One boy, Ryan, made it a point to slap my ass every time he passed me in the hallway. I was devastated by the giggles of the onlooking girls at Ryan's expression of dominance over me. But I was more devastated by the inevitable swelling I felt in my crotch every time that Ryan slapped my ass and called me some demeaning name.

One evening after I'd turned eighteen, Brandon and my sister went out for the weekend to stay with some friends. I entered my sister's bedroom and spotted a pair of stray panties thrown against the wall opposite her bed. Despite myself, I bent down to pick them up. They'd been torn at the side; Brandon was clearly in too big of a hurry to even let her take them off completely. I imagined the way that Brandon's cock probably poked at the fabric before he reached down and tore them off of her. I felt the slight dampness in my hands as I imagined her arousal, even though he treated her like a walking fleshlight.

Before I realized what I was doing, I shut and locked the bedroom door and began stripping. I was unsure of why I felt this need, but I quickly slid the ripped panties up my legs and against my body. I laid on Ari's disheveled bed, completely naked except for this pair of white, ripped panties, and stared at the ceiling. I imagined what Ari probably saw as everyone else in the house heard that godawful pounding coming from this bedroom. I contemplated what Brandon's face must have looked like. Did he look her in the eyes when he fucked her? Did he look at himself in the floor-length mirror that my sister kept by her bed? My hand traveled down to my groin as I imagined the power that, day after day, Brandon exercised over my sister on this very bed. After a few moments of my hand rubbing the outside of the panties, I made them even wetter. I threw the pair away in shame.

~~PRESENT-DAY~~

Back in James's room, my thoughts returned to the present when I heard James shut off the shower. I had barely started cleaning James's room as I stood there, dumbly holding Tiffany's panties in my hand. I quickly stuffed the underwear in my pocket and scurried around the room to pick up loose clothes and make the bed. I was just tucking the last of the blanket corners when James walked into the room, wearing nothing but a thin towel wrapped around his waist. His dishwater-blond hair, darker than usual from the water, partially obscured his eyes as it lay flat against his forehead.

"Thanks, Kimmy! This looks great."

I saw James look down at my pocket. I quickly looked down to see my pocket bulge with an obvious mass inside, and a small (but conspicuous) piece of lacey fabric poking out of my pocket.

Oh shit. James had just fucked a girl in his room, and he could probably tell that I just stashed the panties that he had just ripped off of her. I looked back up at James with wide, frightened eyes.

James did not indicate that he saw anything, but I could see the corners of his mouth turn up in a noticeable smirk.

"All done then?" James inquired. Before I could answer, James dropped his towel and walked toward his dresser.

I couldn't help but gawk at the massive member that swung between James's legs as he walked. Even while completely flaccid (and having had at least one orgasm within the last hour), the head of his cock hung at least three inches past his balls—balls that already hung much lower and heavier than mine. Was this the source of James's confidence? Was this the source of James's authority? Was a ripped figure and a massive, pendulous cock the secret the having the world bow at your feet?

James's subtle smirk grew slightly when he saw that me standing there, gawking like an idiot. "Anything else, Kimmy? Or are you heading to bed?"

"Uh, yeah—sorry," I stammered as I scurried out of the room, my head looking straight down at the ground in front of me.

As I neared my own room, I heard James call out, "Kimmy—could you shut my door when you leave?"

I could see that James was, at most, four steps from his door, while I was down the hall. But I didn't protest. I obediently turned around, walked back to James's bedroom, and shut his door.

When I finally got settled into my bed, I made sure that my door was locked before pulling out the wadded-up panties from my pocket and sliding off my clothes. While the tiny little lacey thing was barely intact, I slid the fabric up my legs and over my cock and ass. I felt the thong-style back of the panties slide into my ass cheeks. The front of the panties, though tiny enough to barely cover anything, completely covered my comparably small dick and balls.

Imagining what Tiffany might have seen in the previous hours, I laid on my back and stared at the ceiling. My thumb and index finger slowly rubbed my dick through the lacey fabric. My pathetic little cock would never boast the power and virility of James's pendulous monster. And thus, I imagined it as Tiffany's clit as I worked my fingers through the fabric.

***TO BE CONTINUED***