This is the story of three guys I have gotten to know quite well recently. Each has told me their story from his point of view. I have taken their versions and woven them into a single story for you. There may be slight differences from one chapter to the next, because no two people, let alone three people, see or remember things exactly the same. Now relax and enjoy the story and, of course, let me know what you think. Please keep in mind that Chapter 1 has been toned down by the JUB censor, so please make sure you stick with the story for a few more chapters before you make your final judgment.
From Billy’s viewpoint
I thought I knew everything about Jess. I’d known him forever. We went to school together through high school. We’d always been close friends. Now it was our senior year in high school and you’d think by that point you’d know everything about your best bud. But suddenly I wasn’t so sure.
It was Tuesday just after school let out. I’d started walking home with some friends, wondering where Jess was. We always walked home together. Then I remembered a history book I’d left in my locker and so I hustled back to school. As I headed toward my locker, I saw two guys talking, their heads real close together like they wanted to make sure no one could hear what they said. I was almost certain one of them was Jess, but the other one I couldn't be positive about.
As I got closer, Jess must have heard my footsteps. He looked up. I was pretty sure he said, “See you tomorrow night,” to the other guy. Then he turned toward me and smiled as though he were glad to see me. The other guy hurried past me and out of the building. I felt that I’d seen him before.
“Hi,” I said. “Who was that?”
“Oh, just a junior who wanted to talk to me about some project he’s working on. I didn’t really understand what it was all about and told him I didn’t think I could help him with it. He said a friend had told him I knew a lot about whatever it was, but I didn’t.”
It sounded like too much of an answer to me. You come to know when your best bud is bullshitting, covering up. Fuck, call a spade a spade. I was pretty sure he was lying.
It didn’t make a lot of sense to me, but Jess had just been talking to a guy I’m certain everyone knew was one of the school’s better known fags. Cool jocks like Jess didn’t talk to fags. Even though I didn’t really see his face, I think I know a fag when I see one. And this was one I’d seen before.
So Jess was chatting up a fag, plus he was bullshitting me about it. I wondered what was going on, but decided not to push it. Not just then.
* * *
Later that evening, Jess and I were in his room, where we hung out a lot, listening to music, studying, talking sports, whatever.
He’d been bitching for about ten minutes about how tough swim practice had been Monday night. Lap after lap after lap. I was getting real tired of his bitching.
“Man, sure it’s hard work,” I said. “But look at your abs, your chest. Heck, even look at my abs, which aren’t half as good as yours. It’s worth the effort. Chicks eat up bods like ours.”
“You really think I’ve got that great a body?” Jess asked, sounding truly surprised by the thought.
“Fuck, yeah. It’s fantastic!” I said sarcastically. I was exasperated with him. And really pissed at him, too, for bullshitting me earlier that day and now for his moaning about swim practice. Good fucking god! It was swim practice. It was supposed to be tough.
But I think he only heard the words, not really understanding just how I was feeling at the moment. He lifted his T-shirt and looked down at his tight, tanned abs. He ran one hand lightly across his hard six-pack, which truly was a sight to behold. I’d seen them plenty of times before, but I couldn’t help but look at them. They were getting better and better. And, fuck, he was showing them off for me. So I looked. OK, maybe I looked too long. What else was I supposed to be doing?
“You really like them?” Jess asked. There was a new seriousness in his voice.
There must have been some sort of major shift in the conversation that I’d missed. My best bud sounded like he really wanted to know if I liked his abs. This was what he wanted to talk about? His abs? Looking at his fucking abs?
“So what’s this about?” I asked. “Do I like your abs? I told you they’re great. What are you getting at?”
Finally he sensed my frustration and pulled down his shirt. He looked embarrassed. We both sat silently for a few moments and then he looked into his lap and said, “I don’t know. I just wondered if you ever admired guys’ bodies. You know, appreciate the hard work they put in to get so tight, so hard. What I mean is, do they look good to you? Or do, I mean, do, do . . .” and he just stammered. “I don’t know what I’m talking about. I’m just tired and babbling and stupid and . . . shit . . . Let’s call it a night.”
Jess was so red in the face, embarrassed as hell. He was a smart guy, going to college, had his head together. He was always at the top of his game. And suddenly here he was completely out of it, babbling on about his abs and looking like he was so confused. He looked panicked. Trapped. Scared. I really thought he might cry.
I guess I felt sorry for him. He was my best bud and I thought somehow I was responsible for whatever was wrong. And something was certainly wrong.
“Just lay back and relax,” I said. “It’s OK.” Of course, I didn’t know what “it” was and I sure as fuck didn’t know if “it” was “OK”. I just wanted Jess to calm down, to be himself. This was starting to freak me out.
So we were quiet for a while, just listening to music and trying to breath easy. When I sensed the crisis had passed, I asked, “OK?”
“OK,” he said.
I kept trying to piece things together in my head, to make some sense of where this evening had gone off track. And before I thought it through, I’d said, “Does all of this have anything to do with you talking to that fag guy at school today?”
“What? I wasn’t talking to any fags. I was just talking to Justin about his project. He wanted help and I told him no. He’s not a fag, is he? I mean, I think I’ve heard some people say they thought he might be, but didn’t he go out with what’s her name to some dance. I mean I’ve seen him with girls. I don’t think he’s gay.”
This was bullshit upon bullshit. I was fucking pissed off all over again, but trying hard not to show it because Jess, my best bud Jess, was really struggling here and I didn’t have a clue why.
“So why are you so defensive about it? OK, so maybe Justin isn’t gay. I know he never sucked my dick. So just relax. It’s just that I saw you talking to him earlier and you seemed sort of, I don’t know, like embarrassed when I came up. And now you seem sort of embarrassed again. And, let’s face it, you’re not an easily embarrassed kind of guy. I mean I’ve seen you in some pretty kinky situations and you were never even a bit embarrassed. Caught bare assed. Caught with your dick hanging out. Caught with your big hard cock stuffed in Susan’s mouth. Caught . . . Man you have been caught so many fucking times before,” and I started to laugh just thinking of all the shit Jess and I had done together.
“Remember the time I came in your room without knocking and . . .”
He knew the story as well as I did and within seconds Jess started to laugh, too.
The mood was broken. We were laughing and bullshitting and remembering a lot of good times. And then I headed home.
* * *
I was lying on my bed kind of confused by what had happened with Jess and my mind drifted back over the years. It was remembering one of those moments Jess had been caught. I’d walked in his room without knocking. I never knocked back then.
There he was with his dick in his hand. I recall being surprised because it was a lot bigger than I remembered it being when I’d seen it in the changing room after swim class the summer before. And it was hard, pointing straight up.
He looked at me. Freaked. What could he do? Say? And then he got a big shit-eating grin on his face, looked so cool staring straight into my eyes. It was then I first heard what would come to be his trademark phrase. “So, how do you like it?” That was Jess. Caught so red-handed you just had to let it go. Caught like that, he’d act so natural and cool. Let everyone think the world was going his way and, as far as he was concerned, you could get on or you could get off. He could care less. He was cool with it the way it was.
And being young and idolizing Jess the way I did, I wasn’t going to let him see me rattled. So I just said, “It’s cool. And big!”
“Isn’t yours getting big yet?” he asked.
“Yeah, but not like yours.” I was shaking inside, but trying so fucking hard to look cool for Jess.
“You wanna show me?”
I was just wearing track shorts on my skinny-ass body. I let them drop.
“It looks bigger to me,” he said, raising his eyebrows in admiration.
I was so pleased and it was important to me that I please Jess. Jess liked my cock. He could tell it was getting bigger. “I can make it even bigger,” I said.
“I bet you can,” he said with a smirk.
I remembered those next moments as if it were yesterday. I’d played with myself before, but never with anyone else around. I was scared, but trying not to show it. Not wanting Jess to know.
But when Jess was done cumming and he looked me straight in the eye with his shit-eating grin, I knew it was all good shit. And then he asked so coolly, “So how do you like it?”
Suddenly I thought I was going to pee. I started to panic. And then, before I knew what was happening, I was done, too. My first cum.
I looked over at Jess and he looked at me. We were two hot guys.
* * *
There I was remembering my first time. Remembering the feel. The power. Having my hard cock in my hand for the first time. The smell of fresh cum. And once again cum, lots and lots of cum, was running down my hand, lubing my big hard eight-inch cock. It was my cock. My 18-year-old throbbing, aching, hard-as-ever cock. The sensation of cumming had only gotten better and better as month by month I could tell my loads were getting bigger and bigger. More intense. And I loved how it felt. The aching build-up in my balls, the surge of power through my hardened cock. The amazing release as cum poured out of my cockhead. So warm and slick and . . . I just stroked my cum-drenched hand up and down my dick. I was done cumming at last, but my meat still felt great with my favorite hand wrapped around it.
I loved to cum, but truth be told, I leaked so much pre-cum and came so much it could be a problem cleaning up. But, what the fuck, it felt so good.
I lay there as my sperm cooled and started to run down my side. Finally I rolled over, feeling the cooled cum gluing me to my already badly cum-stained sheet. And so I drifted off to sleep in my own private puddle of cum. It was nothing new. I’d been doing it for years.