I Thought I Knew -- Book Three
Chapter 13, Part I
From Jess' viewpoint
To understand how I felt when Paul said he liked to read stories at JustUsBoys, you have to understand how I felt before he said it.
Remember that Paul and I had just shared a load of my cum. I’ve done a lot of stuff with a lot of guys and girls, but somehow cumming in my mouth had always been a private thing. It had never even occurred to me to do it with someone.
Sure Billy and Justin and H.R. and even his boyfriend had all seen me do it. But even then it was something I did with . . . no, did for myself. It was me taking care of me in a world where no one else ever seemed to want to take care of my needs.
With Paul it was like everything had changed. He did care about me and what I liked. What I wanted. What I needed. Or at least he seemed to.
When I felt his tongue join mine as I licked my hard smooth cockhead, it was like electricity running between us. To feel him licking my nuts as I sucked my cock. His warm mouth sucking in one nut and then the other. To feel his tongue caressing my cock. It made me feel so good. So connected. At last I was really connected to someone. It’s like his doing this for me validated all the time we had spent talking and getting to know each other. It changed everything.
When I felt my cum starting to churn and knew I would cum soon, my mind was thinking I’d cum in my mouth. But then I realized I could cum in both of our mouths. I could really share this with him the way he was sharing with me. Or at least the way I thought he was sharing.
Then we were kissing. Sharing my cum again. So close. So bonded So much like becoming one . . .
I don’t know how to explain it but it was like the first time our high school swim team had won the regional state championship. Something happened when we won that last race that like bonded us together. When we all hugged each other beside that pool, we were connected as never before. We all knew it.
I was bonded with Paul that way. It was a shared experience unlike any I’d ever had with a guy. OK, so it was kind of like that the night I asked Billy and Justin to each show me what it was like to be fucked by a guy. It was kinda like one of those moments. But I’d known even as Justin first tried to gently work his monster into my hole that he was doing it as a favor for me. Not exactly pity sex, but not so far from it either. After all, he was only doing it because I all but begged him to. Billy was more enthusiastic, but still it was nothing like this.
I could completely sense how important this was to Paul. It felt like I was changing his whole life. Maybe mine too. It just felt like we were completely in sync in everything.
It wasn’t just the sex, but it didn’t hurt that we were swapping my load of cum back and forth. Our tongues playing in it. Our bodies sweaty as they writhed against each other in the aftermath of my fucking best cum in probably forever.
At that moment I felt that I somehow knew everything about Paul I ever needed to know. It had confirmed all I had felt as we’d spent most of yesterday together doing pretty much nothing at all.
So we were lying there face to face. Naked. My mind felt like it was melding with his like in one of those sci-fi stories.
Then suddenly he said something about reading porn. My guts cramped up as all the fears and terrors that my nightmare caused came crashing down on me. Only in real life, it wasn’t my mother who knew . . . but Paul.
It may be completely illogical, but when I realized that he might have read my story on JUB, my guts almost exploded. My thoughts cringed in the back of my brain. My body . . . I couldn’t even move.
Immediately my brain told me that Paul couldn’t possibly connect me to that story even if he had read it. H.R. had gone over that with us so many times. He’d taken every precaution. I should have been able to reassure myself. But just like when I had my nightmare, I couldn’t control the fears and doubts. The guilt. The shame.
I don’t know how I found the strength to ask, but I had to ask, “Do you have a site where you like to read it?” Maybe I was hoping he’d say something other than JUB. Maybe I just asked because I couldn’t stop myself.
It was like I was in freefall from the greatest moment of my life to the worst. I guess it didn’t really matter what I asked. I was falling and couldn’t seem to stop.
“Have you ever heard of JustUsBoys?” he asked.
That’s when I hit the bottom. Hard. Like it knocked the wind out of me.
I knew I should answer, but I couldn’t speak. I tried to open my mouth to answer, but I couldn’t seem to make it work. I tried to nod my head yes, but my head just fell kind of to the side.
Suddenly my mind was overpowered by the memory of Paul standing in front the picture of me that Justin had drawn. Paul staring at my cum-splattered body. Oh, fuck me!
Then my mind raced off in a new direction. A couple of little things he had said ran through my head in rapid succession: “I’ve read how sweet your pre-cum is. I dreamed of tasting it.” . . . “It’s sweet like I thought it would be.” . . . And Paul staring at that picture of me saying, “Justin must be a really good friend.” The words echoed in my head. I thought I was going to be sick.
He knew about Justin and the picture. He knew about my pre-cum. He must have known I could suck myself off. He’d planned it all. It was an elaborate scam. He knew all about me. Everything! He was playing me. Tricking me into shit. This was some sort of game to him.
I panicked. I scrambled out of bed. Found my shorts. Pulled them on. My head was reeling. I didn’t really know what I was doing or why. I just knew I needed to get away from this.
I just remember thinking, I’ve gotta go. I bolted from the room grabbing a T-shirt and I was gone. I was out in the parking lot before I realized I was barefoot. But I couldn’t go back. I just started to run. The T-shirt still clutched in my hand.
I know I ended up in a grassy area on campus near the administration building. I was completely winded and confused and scared. I don’t remember thinking about anything. I must have sat there a long time because it was almost dark by the time I got back to my place. I remember how hungry I was. I guess I hadn’t eaten all day.
I probably should have tried to figure out if Paul was still there, but it didn’t even occur to me that he could be.
When I got inside I found a note from him:
I had a really great time. Actually it was a lot better than great. It was the best. I can’t thank you enough for making my first time so special. You couldn’t have treated me any better than you did. I’ll never forget it. You are the best!
I am sorry you had to leave so fast. I sure hope everything is OK with you. I’ll call you later. Maybe we can get together this evening. I’ll be hanging out at my place.
Thanks again. Paul
I reached down with every intention of crumbling up the note, but somehow I just couldn’t. It made me so sad. I could feel what he was trying to tell me and I wanted to tell him the same thing.
But I couldn’t forget that he knew and he didn’t tell me. He led me on. Played me. I reached toward the paper again, but there was like this struggle inside me that wanted me to hate him, fear him, drive him away. And one that wanted me to hold him and . . . That’s when I started to cry. I cried for a very long time.
Finally I was all cried out. I walked into the bathroom and stared at myself in the mirror. My eyes were puffy and red. I looked like I hadn’t slept in days. Even my skin looked like shit.
Finally I climbed in the shower and let the warm water run over me till it turned cold. I dried myself off and went and sat on my bed. I couldn’t help but look at the disheveled sheets. With their obvious cum stains. Our cum stains. Me and Paul all mixed together.
I ripped them off the bed and threw them on the floor. Then I sat on the stripped bed and I called H.R.
I remember him saying, “I hear you. I hear what you’re saying. But I don’t think he could possibly know even if he did read the project. We’ve been through this a millions times. He can’t know.
“Yeah, I know the picture is a big clue we didn’t figure on, but even that doesn’t make the link. Think about it. Think what he saw. Think what I wrote about you guys. How does he make the connection? He can’t. It’s just a coincidence. You met a guy who read your story and you're falling in . . . OK. OK. So you're not. It just seems like you’re really into this guy and if you are then don’t let this stop you.
“OK, let’s assume he does know. So what’s the harm? . . . Wait! Just wait! So he didn’t tell you that he knew who you were. So face it, you haven’t been completely honest about who you are either. When he said he read shit on JUB you didn’t say, ‘Oh I have a fuck story about me posted there.’ . . . Well, you had every opportunity to tell him. . . . I know you were scared and upset. . . . I’m just telling you I think you’re over-reacting.”
I hung up really pissed at H.R. It seemed to me he was taking Paul’s side. Fuck him!
About a minute later my phone rang. I checked and it was Paul. I let it ring.
It was the next morning before I checked my messages. Paul had texted me twice. The first one thanked me again for “a wonderful time”. The second said he was checking to see if I was OK. I ignored them
Actually I did my best to ignore thinking about Paul at all. It upset me and it confused me. I was mad, angry, scared and sad. All in no particular order. Just a mess of feelings whirling around in my head and stomach.
It had been about 10 days since that night we’d spent together. Paul had stopped texting me daily after the first four days.
I was so depressed about the whole thing. I’d stopped trying to figure out what had happened and just accepted that it had. My little JUB project had bitten me in the ass big time. The first guy I thought I might have really made it with and it was all fucked up because of that stupid story.
I was taking a shower playing with my cock a little for the first time in maybe almost a week. My soapy hand couldn’t ignore it. Or more precisely, my cock wouldn’t let my soapy hand ignore it. I hadn’t been getting myself off much for some reason since . . . since Paul.
I guess I was horny. Anyway I was rock hard in seconds. I didn’t want to rush this. I was horny but I needed some me time. I needed to do this nice and slow. I deserved that much. Just me and my cock getting reacquainted.
I was slow stroking, feeling the warm comfort of my familiar hand wrapped around my aching cock. I closed my eyes and could almost see my hand stroking my cock as clearly as when my eyes were open. But with my eyes closed, it felt better. Getting myself off all alone. The warm water on my back. That aching need in my cock and nuts. The silky feel of my soapy hand against my hard, throbbing cock.
But somehow, without realizing it at first, in my mind my hand became Paul’s hand. It was Paul slow stroking my cock. Making it feel so good. It was that first time again. In my bed. Lying naked between his legs as he stroked me off for the first time. I could feel the warmth of his face beside mine. Feel his hard cock pressing behind me. Smell his manly odor as he . . . Oh, this was so good! So much better than I’d ever . . .
My nuts were getting tight. My breathing raggedly. I wanted to cum so bad. I wanted to be held and loved and . . . Ohhhh, fuck. I came so hard. Cum spraying on my chest and abs. On the shower wall.
I kept stroking as my orgasm seemed to go on and on. And all the while Paul was wrapped around me. Stroking me. Making me feel so good.
I opened my eyes. Alone in the shower. Cum on my hand. On my body. On the wall. I didn’t want to be there alone anymore. I closed my eyes, but I couldn’t conjure back that image I had just enjoyed. I started to cry again for the second time.
At last I pulled myself together and was getting ready for class when my phone rang. Without thinking, I picked it up and answered it.
“Jess?” a sort of timid, shy voice said. I didn’t recognize it.
“Yeah, who’s this?”
“It’s me, Paul.”
I almost hung up, but instead stood frozen, my phone to my ear.
“Are you still there?” Paul finally asked.
“What?” I asked, surprised by how flat my own voice sounded.
“I’ve . . . I’ve missed you and hoped . . .” There was a long pause. “ . . . hoped you’d talk to me. I really want to talk to you. I think we need to talk.”
“About what?” I asked, again in that flat voice I didn’t recognize as my own.
“About us. About what’s happened. I think I must have upset you and I’m sorry. Can we please talk?”
“You’re damn right you upset me. So what do you want to say? Say it now.” I was suddenly angry.
“Can’t I talk to you . . . face to face?”
“Tell me what you have to say, or I’m hanging up and that’s the end of it!”
There was a long pause.
“I should have told you right away, but I didn’t know how. I know who you are. I know about your story. I’ve read it. And I think I love you.”
I remember it was like a bullet piercing my brain. Pain. The words actually hurt. My head hurt and I felt dizzy. I think I hung up without saying anything. Just hung up. I’m not proud of that moment, but that’s what I did. Paul said he loved me and I hung up the phone.
To Be Continued . . .
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