Lockdown – Chapter 2
That night, while I slept, I’m not sure if I dreamed or simply reminisced.
I opened my eyes, standing in the hallway next to my locker. Instinctively, I knew it was the beginning of my sophomore year. I was fifteen. From down the hall, on an intersecting wing, something slammed into a locker. There was swearing and then the slapping of sneakers running away on the worn linoleum.
When I came around the corner, there was a boy leaning against a locker. His binder was thrown on the floor and someone had upended his backpack, leaving everything strewn about. Hurrying over, I saw a couple of other girls down the hall. They looked at him, shook their heads and turned away, continuing their conversation.
Perplexed, I went over to the boy, “You okay?”
He brushed long, dirty blond hair out of his face. “I guess so. I know Kenny and Lonnie from last year. I guess they didn’t flunk the eighth grade after all.”
I grabbed his backpack and knelt down with him as we picked up his school supplies.
Once we were finished, I stuck out my hand, “I’m Andrea. But my friends call me Dre.”
The boy tentatively took my hand. There was hardly any strength in his shake; almost like a girl’s. “I’m Chase. My friends call me, um, Chase.”
When he turned and walked away, I figured out why the other boys made fun of him. He had a bit of way about him that wasn’t masculine. I saw him again at lunch. I spied some of my friends eating in the cafeteria. Chase was by himself at a table a couple of rows over from them. While I really wanted to hang out with my friends, there was something forlorn about Chase. For a fourteen-year-old, he was small for his age, and if my gaydar was going off, no doubt a bunch of other teens picked up the same vibe.
When I got over to the table where my friends sat, there were a couple of empty chairs. I put my tray at one of them, said hello to everyone and then went over to the boy, “Hey Chase. I’m eating with some of my friends and I wanted to see if you wanted to join us.”
The look on the boy’s face was one of shock. Then a smile, “A-are you sure, Dre?”
I nodded, “Hell, yeah.”
When he sat down beside me at my friends’ table, a couple of girls gave me a “what the fuck” look. But as we caught up on everyone’s summers, my friends, even if they didn’t warm to him, they didn’t look at him like he had leprosy.
Within a couple of weeks, the other girls had warmed to my gay friend, and he joined us at our regular table from then on. And within a month, he had become my best friend, even though he was a year younger. His mom loved me and had me over as often as possible. Even my parents liked him. And even though I wasn’t allowed to date until I was sixteen, Chase wasn’t included in that ban. And that made me happy. Because even though Chase had come out, I had serious feelings for him.
The next memory was Halloween. Even though we were both teenagers, the neighborhood where he lived threw a huge block party, and there were contests for the best costumes for all age groups. I sat on his bed while he sat at his desk. I begged, “Come on, Chase. It’ll be fun. We can wear costumes. We can go as Bert and Earnie.”
Chase gave me a blank stare. “Who?”
“Oh, never mind. Maybe something easier. What about ghosts or something? You think your mom would let us poke holes in her sheets?”
He rolled his eyes at me, “Not even.”
Even though he was gay, Chase was still a boy. His room was messy and his bed unkempt. I stood and yanked the top sheet from his bed, wrapping it around my torso, “Okay. Ghosts are out. How about we go as Romans?”
“I dunno. Mom…” he started to say when a voice from the door startled us both.
I twirled beside the bed in my faux toga, “There’s the block party this evening. Costume contests and lots of candy. I told Mr. Sourpuss we should go as Romans.”
His mom came into the room and took the end of the sheet and held it to her nose, “Oh, sister, this won’t do. I’ve got some other sheets you two can use. They’re white and don’t smell of stinky boy.”
Chase looked insulted, “Mom, don’t embarrass me in front of Dre.”
His mom left us, saying, “I’ll be back in a few minutes with some sheets.”
When she came back into the Chase’s room, she had a couple of white sheets and a bolt of white cloth. She set them on the bed, “Don’t get away from here without letting me take some pictures.”
With a sigh of surrender, Chase closed the door behind her and grabbed one of the sheets and sat down at his desk. When he got online, he said, “I didn’t know there were so many ways to put on a toga, Dre.”
After a moment of leaning over his shoulder, I pointed to one video, “That’s the one, Chase. That’s authentic. Let’s try that.”
We watched the video, which explained how women put on togas. I took the cloth from Chase and wrapped it around me once. It looked nothing like what the woman in the video looked like. “What’s wrong with it?”
Chase’s cheeks flushed red, “Um, clothes, Dre. She was in her underwear I think.”
“Oh,” I said as I looked at the video. I wasn’t sure she wore even that much, aside from the toga. I shrugged, “You okay with that?”
Chase blushed as he nodded, “Well, you can wear a pair of my shorts, if you want.”
“Let’s see how it looks first,” I said. One of the reasons Chase and I had become so close is that I didn’t judge him for being gay, and my parents and his mom thought it was a wonderful friendship. I guess they thought we’d never fool around with each other. For more than one reason, it didn’t bother me to strip down to my underwear. On one hand, he had become my best friend, and I really didn’t care if he saw me like this. On the other, deep down I was seriously crushing on my best friend, and I liked the idea of him seeing me like this.
Once down to my panties and bra, I held one end of the fabric under my left armpit as I got Chase to wrap the fabric around my torso. His face was still red and I could see him steeling glances at my a-cup bra. One time around with the fabric wrap and then we took the loose end and folded it over my right shoulder, and then back around to my left hip.
“We, um, we need to secure it with a safety pen, Dre. Let me go see if mom has any.
When Chase left the room, I glanced at the mirror on the door of his closet. It looked better, although my bra strap stood out. It would need to come off. I got a bit warm thinking about Chase helping me with it.
When he came back into the room, Chase had safety pins and some gold cording, “Mom said we can use these as belts. I think they’ll look authentic enough.”
I said, “Cool. Help me with this.”
I undraped the loose end and loosened the wrapping enough to drop it below my chest. Then I reached behind me and unhooked my bra.
“What are you doing, Dre?” Chase exclaimed when the bra fell away. Even though his face was crimson, and he was gay, he didn’t look away.
I tugged the wrapping up and covered my boobs. I certainly didn’t want Chase to think I was putting on some kind of show for him. “The strap looked tacky. It had to come off.”
“Oh,” he said. “Yeah. I didn’t think about how silly it would look.”
After draping the loose end over my shoulder again, I said, “Can you pin me at my waist?”
With that and a glittering gold cord tied around me, I had to admit, as I looked in the mirror, I looked pretty good.
“Okay, Chase. Your turn.”
The fourteen-year-old took his shirt off without a problem. But after unbuttoning his pants, he looked at me, “Don’t look, okay?”
I coughed, “Um, you just saw my boobs, Chase.”
“Well, um, ah. Well, don’t tell anyone, okay?”
With that, he pulled his shorts down, revealing a pair of red low-cut briefs. Oh, no. I really was getting warm as I saw his small bulge.
His chest and stomach were smooth, although his shoulders were slightly wider than his narrow waist. I knew boys his age had hair, but the parts I could see there was none. He murmured, “You’re staring, Dre.”
“Sorry, man. I just haven’t seen a boy before. Not in just underwear.”
He grinned, “Me neither. Um, not a boy. A girl. I haven’t seen a girl’s um, chest before today.”
I took a sheet, folded in half, and gave him an end, “Hold this against your waist.”
I wrapped the sheet against his waist and then we draped the loose end over his shoulder, just like we had mine. A safety pin at his waist made sure the wrapping would stay in place. A shy smile crossed his face, and he spun around, “How do I look, Dre?”
Sexy. But all I said was “Like a real Roman. All that’s missing is the chain around your neck and you’d be my slave.”
A week before, we had watched a documentary on slavery in the Roman world. Chase put his hands together, like a supplicant, “Yes, mistress. As you wish, mistress.”
We both burst out laughing and a moment later, there was his mom’s soft knock, “Everything good. You kids ready for pics?”
Chase opened the door and came over to me, “Whatcha think, Mom?”
His mom nodded, “You two look good. It’s a good thing the night’s unseasonably warm. Otherwise, you would probably freeze your asses off.”
Once she took a few pictures, she looked at one of the photos and giggled.
Still self-conscious, Chase said, “What?”
“Red underwear, right?”
I stepped back, and I joined in the giggling. Chase’s tight red briefs were barely visible through the double folded sheet. He groaned, “What the heck? I can’t go like this.”
His mom, still laughing “Well, you can always do what Dre did and go commando.”
I furiously blushed as I realized his mom was looking at my little bra on the floor. “The strap looked bad.”
His mom patted me on the arm as she walked over to a chest of drawers, “It’s okay, sweetie.”
Chase stammered, “I, I can’t go commando! That would be embarrassing.”
His mom pulled a pair of white briefs from a drawer, “Here, sweetie, trade these out.”
I think Charlie had been beat-red for a while now, as he shimmied out of his red underwear and then slid the white under his toga.
A close inspection revealed no sign of color. “You look good, Chase. Just like a Roman. All your missing is your slave collar.”
His mom clapped, “Oh, that would just make the outfit complete.”
Once again, she hurried from the room. When she came back, she carried a neck collar made of leather. It looked like something a dominatrix might wear, rather than a slave. The chain was delicate, almost like from a small dog’s leash. She waved me over, “Help me put this on your cute little slave boy.”
“Oh, shush. This really is too cute.”
I wasn’t entirely sure I agreed. The collar and chain were probably overkill. But I thought Chase was very cute, even if he was out of sorts. A few more photos later, Chase’s mom pushed us out the front door and told us to have fun.
The party was just down the street. There were kids in every imaginable costume. And we were hardly the only teens. Even most of the adults celebrated with outlandish and silly costumes. Just before we got there, I pulled lightly on the chain, “Alright slave, you must do what I tell you. Otherwise, there’ll be no candy for you.”
Chase stuck out his tongue, “Not happening, Dre.”
Bossing my best friend around sounded fun. But there was note in his voice telling me he wasn’t going to be bossed. Instead of leaving it alone, I changed tack. “Come on, Chase. It’ll be fun. We can switch out in a bit, and I’ll wear the slave collar and you can boss me around.”
Instead of outright rejecting my offer, Chase said, “Really? I can be the master and you the slave?”
“Yep. Once we swap out, I’ll be your slave until I have to go home.”
Chase bowed low, “Yes, mistress. As you command.”
I gripped the dog chain and said, “Very well, Maximus. Let’s go see about bobbing for apples”
The next hour or so, we bobbed for apples, dunked Mrs. Mondale, the HOA president, and collected candy from several booths. When the sun slipped below the horizon, they turned lights on, keeping the street lit. A DJ at one end of the party was playing some music and there were several couples dancing. Raggedy Ann and Andy were holding hands. The Lone Ranger and a very sexy Tonto were also dancing. Even Casper and Wendy.
My fingers slid into Chase’s, “Let’s dance, Chase. It’ll be fun.”
Although Chase didn’t pull back, he glanced over at me, “Come on, Dre? Really? I can’t dance.”
I haughtily tilted my nose up, “Slave, I command you to dance with me.”
Chase snorted, “Is that how it’s going to be? Fine. But after this, it’s my turn to be the master.”
I came around and stood in front of him. He really had no idea what to do, “Put your right arm on my hip and hold your other hand out.”
I took his outstretched hand in mine and lightly rested my other hand on his bare shoulder. It wasn’t very pretty, but we shuffled around to one side, keeping away from those who were better dancers. Or more likely, we were being avoided by the other dancers.
By the end of the second song, we were getting a handle on it. Of course, the third was a slow song. Chase stepped away as we saw several couples get closer to one another. I didn’t let go of his hand. “One last song, Chase. Then we’ll swap the collar.”
There was uncertainty in the boy’s eyes as I pulled him to me. I put both my arms around his neck, “Put your arms around my waist. We’ll just dance in place.”
The feel of the boy’s arms around my waist felt good. Even though I knew he was unattainable, it didn’t stop me from enjoying his body against mine. Especially when I thought about how little we wore beneath our togas.
All too soon, the dance ended and Chase escaped my arm as he managed to unfasten the collar. He held it out, “Your turn, Dre, to be the slave.”
Still feeling my hormones getting the best of me, I leaned forward and pulled my hair away from my neck, “Can you help put it on?”
Chase’s body brushed against mine as he fixed the collar on me. Then he had fun repaying me for all the commands I had given him. I had just fetched him a drink when several people started breaking down the candy booths. My friend looked genuinely sad, “What the hell? It’s not that late.”
Then we heard a crash of thunder in the distance, “Damn!” we chimed at the same time.
“Come on, Dre. Let’s get home before we get drenched,” Chase said, grabbing my hand and hurrying toward his house as wind blew down the street, whipping the bottom of our togas. As we hurried along, he grumbled, “You got to be master for ninety minutes, and I was barely getting started.”
Almost running to keep up with him, I said, “It’s not fair. But we can keep playing until your mom takes me home. Okay?”
His smile showed how much he appreciated the offer.
When we reached the path from the sidewalk to the porch, the skies opened on us. We were only in the rain for a few seconds, but by the time our sandaled feet hit the porch, our togas were heavy from the downpour.
Chase let go of my hand as we turned, and from the safety of the porch watched the rain send trick-or-treaters scurrying for cover. There was no sign of it letting up anytime soon. And as the wind picked up, it cut through our wet togas, chilling us to the bone.
We turned and stepped through the door. “Mom, we’re back!”
Although the light in the living room was on, the house was quiet. Chase turned and grabbed a sticky note from the door. “Oh, Mom went to the church festival this evening.”
While Chase and I were best friends, I had assumed with a last name like Mazouz that he was Jewish. “Church?”
“Yeah, St. Joseph’s.”
Curious, I just said, “Mazouz.”
The light came on. “Oh, my dad was Jewish. Mom’s Catholic.”
I’d never heard him talk about his dad, but standing in our soaking togas wasn’t the time to ask. “Your mom’s going to kill us. We’re soaking the carpet.”
Chase realized it too, “Oh, shit. We need to get out of these damned togas.” He reached behind him, trying to get to the safety pin, but couldn’t quite reach it. “Dre, can you unhook me?”
I took off the safety pin and, in a moment, he pulled his sheet off, leaving himself shivering in just his white underwear, which was also soaked through, turning the cotton material just transparent enough that the outline of his penis was very clear.
I tore my eyes away, “Unhook me.”
Once he did, I pulled the sheet of fabric off and held it against my chest, my teeth almost chattering. Hanging down in front of the sheet was the dog chain attached to the leather collar, which was still around my neck. The flush was back in Chase’s face as he took hold of the chain. “What a shame about the rain. I was looking forward to being the master.”
I tried to keep my teeth from chattering, I felt bad about being the master for most of the evening. After all, I had wanted to see what kind of things he would make me do. “We still can. If you want to.”
Despite lips that were turning blue, he said, “Really? You’re okay with being the slave?”
“Yeah. But this is cold.”
Chase handed me the leash, “I’ll get this back in a moment.” Then he took hold of my soaking toga, taking it from my hands, “Here, Dre, let me have the toga, its gotta be cold against your, um, chest.”
His eyes lingered just for a moment against my bare chest before he turned, “Slave, follow me to the laundry room.”
In the laundry room, he tossed our togas into the clothes drier. If I wasn’t so cold, I would have enjoyed letting this marvelous, gay boy look at my boobs. Instead, he turned on the drier and said, “Come slave, let’s get upstairs.”
Once in his room with the door closed behind us, he said, “Are you warm enough yet, Dre?”
I shook my head, “No, still cold.”
“Me too,” he said. Then with uncertainty in his voice, he said, “Um, slave, follow me.”
He opened the door to his bathroom and led me in. In a hesitant voice he pointed toward the tub, “Slave, please turn on the water faucet.”
As I turned the water on, I giggled, “Please? Chase, come on, bro. You’re the master. You don’t have to say please.”
He swallowed, “I, um, well. We’re both cold. And we’re best friends, right?” he had dropped even the pretense of master-slave.
I nodded, suspecting where he was going. Then he continued, “We, um, we can warm up together. In the shower. We just have to be done before Mom gets home.”
We could hear the rain drumming on the window on his bedroom wall. She would not be home early. We had time to enjoy the hot water and each other’s company. I had really loved it when he had taken my toga away and ordered me about. Even more than when I had been in control. “Um, Master?”
“Yeah, Dre. I mean, slave?”
I gave a slight bow, knowing that my small breasts were completely visible to him. “As your slave, I await your every command.”
“You want me to order you around in here?” Chase gasped, his eyes round in surprise.
I nodded and gave him a submissive bow. “I’m your slave, you’re my master. What do you command?”
The surprised look didn’t really go away. But something else happened. My gay best friend’s penis was pushing against the fabric of his wet underwear. Bent over, I could see its outline.
After a moment, Chase pushed down on his erection, trying to get it to go away. Then seeing me staring at him, he sighed, “Slave. I want you to promise that you won’t tell a soul.”
“Yes, Master. Not a soul.”
“Okay, turn on the shower and let’s get in.”
We got into the tub and closed the curtain, Chase in his briefs and me in my panties. As I turned on the shower nozzle, hot water rained down on us, finally chasing the chill away. We stood facing each other, barely inches apart, both wanting to feel the hot water. Of course, my tits, which were perhaps the size of a couple of half-limes, were inside an arm’s length of his face. Worse, or better, depending on one’s perspective, as I warmed up, my nipples grew erect. They weren’t big, no bigger than the clicker on the end of a Bic pen. But seeing Chase looking at me made me horny.
“What now, Master? Do you want me to wash your back, like a good slave?”
I could see his wheels turning inside his head. He was gay, effeminate, even. He’d told me about one boy he’d been with once before, so I knew him liking other boys was something he’d actually experienced and liked. But right then, he was a nearly naked fourteen-year-old boy in a shower with a nearly naked fifteen-year-old girl.
His voice warbled, “Yes, slave. You may, I mean, you should wash me.”
I took the loofah hanging from the water faucet and drizzled some body-wash over it before moving around to his back. I ran my left hand over his back while my right guided the loofah in a figure eight motion. My fingers brushed against his wet elastic band at his waist, “Master, would you have me wash the rest of you?”
Chase’s voice cracked, “Y-yes, slave.”
My own nerves were a mess as I grabbed his underwear and pulled them down. When they landed with a wet thud on the bottom of the tub, he picked his legs up and kicked the sodden briefs away. The loofah touched the round globe of Chase’s ass before I dared to run my other hand over his ass cheek.
Still not having much control over the timber of his voice, Chase said, “Go ahead, slave, wash my legs as well.”
I knelt behind him and washed his legs, starting at the bottom and working up toward his ass. My hands washed around his thighs, going most of the way around his legs until I stopped once my hand grazed the underside of his butt.
I wanted to empower him. To make him take charge. In the silence that filled the moment, I said, “Master, what now?”
I prayed against any expectation he’d tell me to wash his front. He drew in a ragged breath, “Slave, you did an outstanding job washing my back and legs.” His voice cracked again, “Now show me your loyalty as a slave isn’t misplaced. Wash my front.”
This time, he turned around, facing me. Already kneeling, when he swung around, his hard penis came within a few inches of my face.
I paused, staring at him. We were both very close to the same height, so he was a bit shorter than most other freshmen. To a girl who had never seen a penis except online, he looked perfect, a bit more than four inches. He had a few strands of pubic hair right at the base of his penis. Perhaps a hundred, maybe. I had expected to see more, thicker pubic hair, but there was a beauty in his sparseness that made me wish, for at least the hundredth time, for him not to be gay.
“It’s not much, but Robby likes me like this.”
I shook my head, “It’s, um, you’re beautiful, Chase. I envy Robby.”
Chase opened his legs a bit, “Um, slave. Please finish washing me.”
He got me with his please. I wanted him to lord himself over me, not simply to beg for permission. Still, I was more than happy to enjoy the shared moment. I soaped up the loofah and washed one hip and thigh, then switched over to the other hip and thigh. Then, looking into his eyes, I took him in my hand, even though I was shaking in fear and dreading rejection.
He gasped, “Oh, shit!”
He nodded, “It feels good.”
Watching a video of some slut jacking off some dude doesn’t really prepare you for your first time. My grip was awkward, my rhythm uneven, but I masturbated Chase as though I was his love slave. A minute or so of jacking him, his hips jerked forward and backward as he groaned, “Dre…” he started.
Rocking back and forth, he tried again, “Ahhh, Dre, I’m getting…”
Then it happened. His penis grew even harder in my hand and then it vibrated something powerful as a glob of semen shot right past my nose, missing me by a couple of inches. Then a second blast erupted, falling on my leg. Another shot oozed from his urethra and ran down my fingers. I kept on jacking him as his penis violently vibrated, not stopping until he stopped.
Then, in a voice of reverential awe, I said, “Master, did your slave do good?”
There was a shaky chuckle, “Wow. Yeah. You did good, slave.”
Before I stood, I swiped at my leg with a finger, catching the dollop of semen. I examined it. It was thinner than the semen I’d seen in the videos, not quite as thick or white. It was more cloudy than pearly white. It carried a peculiar smell unlike anything I’d ever smelled before. Having heard other girls in school talk about their boyfriends cumming in their mouths, I’d heard several very contradictory stories about how a guy’s seed tasted.
I put my finger in my mouth, almost cringing at the expected taste. The acrid bitterness I feared wasn’t there. In its place was a slightly sweet but mostly salty slime. As I swallowed it, I decided right then if ever given another chance to suck Chase, I’d take it.
After washing myself off and finishing Chase’s chest, I stood tall, looking the boy straight in the eyes, “What now, Master?”
What little I knew about men was that once they orgasmed, their erection would go away. I assumed for a gay boy not attracted to me, Chase would go soft pretty quick. But as he stood there mulling over his next command, his erection never flagged. He touched himself as he said, “Slave, take off your panties.”
Happily, I pulled them down and kicked them, making them land on top of Chase’s briefs.
And there I stood. Naked and fifteen right in front of a naked fourteen-year-old.
“Dre, I mean, Slave, you need to stand still while I inspect you.”
Chase stepped closer, bumping his penis against my hip as he lowered his face to my boobs. He reached out, caressing one of my half-a-lime-shaped boobs. My nipple was hard as a rock. His touch felt even better than when I fingered and caressed myself. Then he used both hands, working them around my tits.
After a moment, he dropped the master routine, “Wow, Dre. They feel really good. I didn’t expect that.”
Feeling even hornier now than before, I said, “Are you sure you’re gay? I mean, you’re hard as can be.”
He gently squeezed a nipple until I moaned in pleasure, “Yeah. Well, I’m sure I like Robby. I’m sure I like his, um, dick. Normally, when I see a girl in a video, it does nothing for me.”
I slid my arms around his neck and pulled his face against my boobs, “Even now?”
His hot breath on my tits made me tingle in ways I’d yet to experience. He lifted his head, “I don’t understand why you’re having this effect on me. I like it. A lot. But it doesn’t make me stop loving Robby. Does that make sense, Dre?”
It did. And it was enough for me to hope my friendship with Chase would develop into something more.
I awoke, sweaty despite the chill in the air. Had I been dreaming or remembering? I couldn’t say. In that moment, I missed Chase, even though I hadn’t seen him in a more than a dozen years.
During my dreams, my hand had found its way inside my panties, rubbing atop my freshly shaven mound. Before the quarantine, Wayne and I had talked about our kinks, and he’d confided that he liked his women smooth. Now, as my fingers drifted lower, they were soon coated in my juices. Dreaming about Chase had made me horny. Even more than when Wayne and I had talked dirty on the phone.
Before long, I ground my finger against my clit, letting the frustration from my dream work itself out as I felt my body respond to the abuse my fingers dished out. I bit my lower lip when I felt a moan coming on. I was so close; I just needed a bit more.
When I came, my fingers became even slicker as my panties soaked through. The release I sought wasn’t there, even as my pussy shook with its orgasm. My thoughts kept returning to Chase. Sweet, beautiful, gay Chase. There was no relief as I came again.
It was a long while before I finally fell asleep.
I read on my Kindle until I heard Mom close her door. I glanced toward my door before deciding I wanted to finish the chapter. Once I bookmarked the next chapter, I turned the device off and plugged it up to recharge.
Then I turned the light off and stripped off my pajamas and sweatshirt. Lately, I had taken to sleeping in just my underwear. In truth, I found the freedom in sleeping naked to be a lot of fun too, but I’m a heavy sleeper, and Mom usually has to get me up in the morning. I don’t like imagining her response to me sleeping in the buff.
Once I slid between my dark blue sheets, that didn’t stop my hand from slipping between my skin and my underwear. Recently, I discovered how much I liked the touch of my hand on my smooth pubic area. There was a large part of me who looked forward to running my fingers through my pubic hair, but for now, I found enough pleasure in my own soft touch on my smooth skin. My penis was soft at first, just two soft, pliable inches. But as I played with my little tube, blood flowed into it and before long it strained the fabric of my underwear.
I knew how to handle that. I pulled my underwear down until my dick was free, lying almost flat against my stomach. I loved that feeling. I closed my eyes, thinking back to that moment a few months before when my friend, Jason spent the night.
Mom had already gone to bed before Jason and I turned off the PS4 and headed to my bedroom. Even though we were both newly minted seventh graders and had known each other for years, I hesitated to strip down to my underwear and put my PJs on in front of him.
Jason didn’t bat any eye, though. He stripped down to his underwear and sat on his sleeping bag as though there was nothing more normal that being almost naked in front of another twelve-year-old. Nervously, I stripped down to my underwear and sat on the edge of my bed.
Jason, a few months older than me, said, “Did you check out Carla Kimble today? Her tits are getting big.”
All the boys in school liked looking at Karla. She was already thirteen, but she looked nearly as mature as some younger teachers. And she was stacked. Funny how that works. When Jason and I had been in the fifth grade, lots of us had made fun of her when her boobs first started making an appearance. Now, a couple of years later, a lot of us were like puppy dogs on a leash. She could have had her revenge if she’d wanted it. In a way, I suppose she was. She was dating a boy in the ninth grade.
“Yeah. I liked the way she stretched out her shirt,” I said. But Karla was never my type. She was too… much. She knew she was hot stuff, and she wasn’t afraid to make your life miserable if you overstepped her boundary. I think she really believed in karma, and God knows, if she had been keeping score over the past few years, she had plenty to dish out.
“But, what about Kimberly? I think she looks pretty.” I said, changing the subject to the girl I sat next to in homeroom.
Jason scrunched his nose in thought before shaking his head, “Nah. She’s got a pretty enough face, Jax. But that’s about it. Does she even have tits yet?”
I wanted to be upset with Jason, but he didn’t have much of a filter, telling it like he saw it. And he wasn’t far off about Kim. I thought she had a beautiful face, formed in the shape of a heart. But her figure was mostly boyish. She wasn’t quite as flat as Jason said, but her chest had only recently sported a couple of bumps. A lot of the girls in our school were already wearing adult bras. Of course, we noticed. You could see the thin straps outlined on their shoulders and through the material on their backs. Kim, though, wore more of a training bra. Sometimes, when I sat next to her, I could see the straps on her shoulder. They were wide, covering most of her shoulder. When I stood behind her, like in the lunch line, the backside of her bra wasn’t little straps, but covered most of her upper back.
I don’t know why I preferred Kim over Karla. It probably had more to do with Kim actually talking to me instead of ignoring me, like Karla.
All the talk about girls and boobs had an effect on two twelve-year-olds, and when I looked down at Jason, his underwear had a tent in it. That alone would have been enough to cause embarrassment, but what really made me ashamed at that moment, his tent was bigger than the one I sported.
Jason pulled out his phone, “Come sit down here, Jax. My brother helped me unlock the parental controls on my phone and let me show you what I found.”
There was a war in my mind. I really wanted to see what he had found. I recently discovered girls are fascinating creatures. But it weirded me out about him seeing my stiffy. The girls won out, and I scooted off the bed until I sat next to my best friend as he pulled up video of two girls going at it, completely naked.
By the time the video ended, my dick was so hard, it was painful in my underwear. Jason had the same problem. He pulled his underwear down until his dick popped out. We had seen each other naked before. Even bathed together when we were a lot younger. But I’d never seen him like this. The tent hadn’t lied. He was easily four inches. He even has a few strands of hair at the base.
Then, he wrapped his fist around his erection and started moving it up and down. That was the first time I saw someone masturbating. And even though we had already covered a bit of sex education in the sixth grade, things in my mind hadn’t clicked until that moment. Jason moaned, “Oh, this feels awesome. Come on, Jax. You’re going to tear a hole in your underwear, pull that piece of meat out and beat it til you cum.”
Jason and I had always been close, and even though I didn’t want him seeing me naked, I wanted even less for him to think it bothered me for him to see me like this, so I tugged my underwear down, freeing my own little nail. At the beginning of the seventh grade, my penis was barely three skinny inches. Not wanting to disappoint my friend, I copied his action and soon had my fist wrapped around my penis, moving up and down, mirroring his motions.
And that’s when it hit me. The tingling, which I had felt sometimes when I had touched myself, was ten times more powerful as I stroked myself. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I wondered why Jason hadn’t shown me this before. I basked in the pleasure of the gently rising tide of my tingles, as my tiny marble-sized balls bounced just below my penis as my fingers gripped me and pulled on me.
Jason leaned against my bed, “Oh, shit, Jax. I’m about there.”
His fist flew even faster as he made a distinct fapping noise, and then he grunted and clear goo exploded out of his piss slit and splashed against his neck and chin. A second later, he shot more stuff out, but this drop hit just above his belly button. A last drop remained on the tip of his erection as he grinned, “Best fucking feeling, dude. Come on, finish it up. Let’s see you spunk.”
I forgot my shame. It was washed away in the intense tingling sensation that continued rising inside me. I was feeling better than I had ever felt, and then it felt like I had to pee. “Um, Jason. I think I gotta pee, man.”
He shook his head, and clapped his hand on my shoulder, “No, that just means you’re getting close. Don’t stop. You’ll see.”
That sense of needing to pee got worse. Then it happened. My dick, all three inches, spasmed in my hand and I felt an explosive release in the base of erection. Warm tingles, the likes of which I had never felt before, crashed over me. I barely managed to keep a loud moan from escaping, “Mmph!”
My erection spasmed and spasmed, again and again as my fingers kept bringing forth those incredible tingles. Until I couldn’t take the intensity any more. Even after I pulled my hand away, my dick twitched several more times, as the tingles finally retreated.
“Wow,” is all I managed to say.
Jason leaned over me, “Dude, you didn’t jizz.”
Right then, I couldn’t have cared less. My first orgasm was incredible. I lost track of how many times my dick has spasmed, every spasm sending a fresh wave of bliss washing over me.
I blinked away the memory, returning to the moment. Mom was asleep in the other room, and I was pulling on my erection. Aside from getting a bit longer, nothing had changed for me since that moment six months before. Well, other than jacking off whenever I had the chance.
Jason and I haven’t had a sleep over since January. And now, with the virus locking everyone up, that wasn’t likely to happen again for a while. Since then, Jason had tried on a couple of occasions to get Karla to go out with him. But she’d shot him down like Snoopy taking out the Red Barron. It hadn’t been pretty.
My thoughts turned to Kim, and I enjoyed the rising tide of my tingles. I missed seeing her in homeroom. Over the past six months, if her boobs had gotten larger it wasn’t by much. The last time I’d paid attention to what she wore, she still had on the modest training bra that she probably didn’t need.
I closed my eyes and imagined what she would look like without her shirt or bra on. In my mind’s eye, her little boobs came to delightful tips and her little nipples were pointing right at me. She pulled her panties down, revealing a smooth gash between her legs.
My fingers stroked faster as that now familiar sense of needing to pee came on me, and still keeping my eyes closed, I tried to bring Kim back into focus. I thought about her boobs, soft and delightful to the touch. Soft and warm. I’d felt a warm and soft breast against my side less than an hour before, and as my body tensed up, in the theater of my mind, Kim was whisked away. My mom stood before me, naked and exposed. Her breasts were small and inviting.
When my body shook, and my erection spasmed, I hit the countdown timer on my phone. My dry orgasm washed over me as my brain seized the image of my mom’s soft, warm and small breasts. I didn’t want the intense tingling to stop and my fingers kept going. My balls, still small and marble sized, tried to constrict, unable yet to release anything. But the spasms wracked me, time and time again. It wasn’t long after Jason taught me the pleasures of my body, I learned that when he orgasmed, his dick would spasm a half dozen times or so, even though he only shot his jizz during the first couple of times. Not me. When I came, as long as I kept jacking off, the dry ejaculations kept rolling over me. And that night, as my brain seized on my mom’s chest, I refused to stop jerking. Sweat beaded on my forehead and my entire body shook until I was overcome. In six months of jacking off, my longest sustained dry cum had lasted almost a minute. Yes. I had timed it, even as every couple of seconds my erection would jerk and shoot a blank. The last thing I remembered before I lost consciousness was seeing the countdown timer on my phone pass the three-minute mark.
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