Text Stories

It was 4:00 o'clock in the morning, the floor was covered with empty beer
cans and pizza boxes. Tom Stevenson had taken advantage of the fact that
his parents were away for the weekend to ask some buds over for a party.
Eight of his buddies from school had come over, they'd played video games,
drunk beer despite being just 18 (the older brother of one of the
guys had bought two cases for them), told rude jokes, just messed around
like high school students do. Tom was popular at school, star second baseman
on the baseball team. He was blond, almost six feet tall, in excellent shape and
tanned deeply. And right now he was drunk. The rec room had emptied out
gradually, guys who had to work the next morning, Sunday, leaving earlier,
guys who just needed to crash leaving later.

Now it was just Tom, his best friend Pete Sackley, dark haired to
Tom's blondness, but equally fit and athletic, and Randy Paige, senior
captain of the football team, tall, beautifully muscled - and passed out snoring
on the couch. It was summer, none of the three boys was particularly overdressed.
Tom had a jockstrap under his gym shorts, white socks on his feet, no shirt.
Pete was dressed almost identically but had a tight, white T-shirt over his
muscular chest and flat stomach. Randy was down just to his shorts, and
that is where the late night got interesting.

Randy was sprawled out on the couch, one leg propped up against the back,
the other stretched out. He had one hand on his muscular stomach, the
other thrown back over his eyes. And there, hanging out the leg of his
shorts was a pair of balls, lightly downed with blond hair, stretching down
low. Clearly, Randy wasn't wearing a jockstrap, and Tom wondered blearily
how he hadn't noticed before. Tom and Pete's deepest secret was that in
addition to being best friends, they were also occasional fuck buddies. At
the age of nine the two of them had made themselves a fort out in the woods
behind Tom's back yard, and eventually it was only natural for them to get
naked, only natural for them to notice each other's penises, only natural
to find out that their penises felt really good when they touched them and
rubbed them, only natural to be with each other when, at the age of 12 and
one week apart, they had produced their first sperm. The first night the
two of them had swiped some beer out of Tom's basement refrigerator (his
dad had noticed, and Tom had got a lecture later, but not a very angry one
- his dad had had his wild days, too), they'd got a good buzz on and, for
the first time, inexpertly taken each other's growing cocks into their
mouths, reveling in the great feeling of having your meat slurped. Now,
four years later, they both went out with girls, but they kept gravitating
back to each other, because they knew one another's bodies intimately and
knew exactly how to make the other feel great. The boys didn't think of
themselves as gay, they were jocks, after all, but where chicks were soft
and squishy, boys were hard-bodied, and besides, chicks didn't know how to
suck cock worth shit, and neither of the friends had ever fucked a girl -
here in Kansas there were unwritten rules about shit like that. Truth be
told, Tom had only ever had one girl give him a blow job, and she had used
so much teeth that he hadn't cum despite having taken six weeks to maneuver
her into bed. Pete had taken care of him half an hour later, sympathetic
at his friend's blue balls and painful cock. Pete didn't use teeth.

Now Tom nudged Pete, who was sitting next to him, swaying slightly and
holding a half-empty bottle of beer in his hand. "Look'a that," he
whispered. Pete looked.

"Man," he breathed. "Look'a them balls!" The two boys looked at each
other and cracked up, sputtering and snorting to keep from laughing out
loud. In Tom's crotch, alcohol was battling with natural teen horniness,
and he felt his cock waking up. "Dare ya to feel 'em," he said.

Pete grinned at him drunkenly. "Ya think I won't?" He scooted over to the
couch on his butt and carefully reached out his hand. With one finger, he
poked the hanging balls and then withdrew his hand as if he had been
burned. Pete looked over his shoulder at Tom. "Now you," he said.

"You're a pussy," Tom whispered. "That ain't what you do to a guy's
balls." He slid over next to Pete and took Randy's ball sac in his hand.
"This is what you do." He rolled the big balls in his hand gently, feeling
their heft. Tom had never seen Randy naked before, they didn't move in the
same circles at school, but now there was no doubt that Tom's cock was
demanding some action, beer or no beer.

"Your turn," he whispered to his friend. "Dare you to touch his cock."

Pete looked at him. "You mean through his shorts?"

Tom nodded. "Yeah, for now."

Pete reached out and gently put his hand on the front of Randy's silk
shorts. His eyes grew big. "Man, he's packin'!"

"Lemme see." Tom pushed Pete's hand aside and felt up the senior himself.
Pete was right - Tom could feel the heat through Randy's shorts as his hand
rested on a cock which seemed to be nice and fat. He still couldn't
understand how he hadn't noticed it bouncing around before, but the guys
who had been there were all pussy hounds, and so staring at another dude's
crotch definitely would not have been cool.

As Tom ran his hand up and down the silk-covered shaft, Randy grunted. The
two boys leapt back, but the older boy was still asleep, he'd just shifted
his left leg so that it, too, was now stretched out on the couch. There
was a pronounced bulge in the front of his shorts.

"Dare you to pull 'em down," Pete whispered, grinning lasciviously. Tom
nervously looked at Randy's face and quickly determined that their friend
was out cold. He knelt alongside the couch and took the elastic waistband
of the royal blue shorts in his fingers. Slowly, ever so slowly, he
started to pull the pants downward, inch by inch - dark pubic hair first,
then the bottom of what was a fat cock, no doubt about it, then one inch,
two inches, four inches - maybe six inches of prickmeat, a beautiful
cockhead down at the end, flopping down over the low-hanging balls.

"Motherfucker," Pete whispered beside him. "What a prick!"

Tom's cock was painful against the rough cloth of his jockstrap, and he
reached down and fished his boner out through the leg hole of his own
shorts. Six inches of boned prick stood straight up as Tom reached out and
softly ran his hand down the length of Randy's cock. It was soft and silky
and very, very hot.

"Lemme feel it," Pete whispered, reaching out with his own hand. Now Randy
had two hands stroking the shaft of his meat, and as the boys watched,
fascinated, the cock began to expand in length and grow harder. It started
to rise up from the balls which were nestling it, angling upward into Tom's
hand. It didn't take more than a minute, and Randy Paige was asleep but
rock hard between his legs. There had to be eight inches there - Randy was
a shower, not a grower.

Pete rolled back a bit and yanked down his shorts and jockstrap, exposing
his raging six-and-a-half inch cock. Tom had seen it so many times, sucked
on it, played with it, but he thought that he'd never seen it as erect as
it was right now. Tom's own penis was also rigid, the burning feeling of
the palm of the boy's hand as it ran slowly up and down Randy's big shaft
rushing through his arm and down into his crotch. Randy slept on,
oblivious.

"I'm gonna suck 'im," Tom whispered. He knelt beside the couch and lowered
his face toward the jock's penis. He stuck out his tongue and tasted the
salty musk of a teenager's cock. And then horny teenage hormones kicked in
hard, and Tom took Randy's cock into his mouth, rolling his tongue around
the red cockhead and then sinking down, down and down until the prick
banged the back of his throat, and his nose was in Randy's pubes. Tom was
very good at giving blowjobs, he could always get Pete to give up a load in
four or five minutes. Just a few weeks ago he'd been in town at the mall,
where, in the men's room, a guy had given him the eye. Next thing Tom
knew, the two of them were in a stall, the guy's pants around his ankles
and his sizeable dick in Tom's mouth. The guy looked to be about 25, maybe
30, and he was definitely getting off on having a teen jock suck him off.
He banged Tom's face as if it was a pussy, and no more than three or four
minutes passed before he filled the boy's mouth up with a load of cum, not
noticing or caring that underneath, sitting on the toilet, Tom was
masturbating himself to climax, too, splashing cum between the guy's legs
and into his underwear, which was bunched down around his shoes. If the
dude felt the warm slime on his balls when he pulled his pants up, he
didn't say so. He gave Tom $20 and then was gone.

Now Tom ran his face right up and down the length of Randy Paige's jock
cock, cupping the heavy balls in one hand as he sucked. Randy was still
snoring, gone from the world around him. Through the corner of his eye,
Tom could see Pete beating off and watching. Pete wasn't as big on
cocksucking as Tom was. He blew his buddy when his buddy needed it, and he
took loads down his throat like a man, but as far as Tom knew, Pete had
never had anybody else's cock in his mouth. He sort of liked that, knowing
that he was the only one who felt his best friend's tongue running along
the base of his cock and lips caressing his cockhead.

Randy's snores were coming faster, and his cock was so hard in Tom's mouth
that it seemed about ready to burst. He could taste salty precum oozing
out of the tip of Randy's beautiful tool, and he did the best he could to
suck the big cock, sort of wishing that Randy were awake and egging him on
- "Suck me, Stevenson, suck that big cock of mine." But there was just the
teenager's snoring.

Tom grasped the shaft of the fat cock in his fist and began to masturbate
the sleeping Randy, keeping his mouth firmly clamped on the cockhead,
running his tongue around and around. He no longer cared if Randy woke up
and beat the shit out of him for touching his cock, he was going to make
the star football player jet a load. And into his mouth. Tom knew he'd be
whacking off to this image for the next three months.

Pete scooted up to sit beside his friend again and took Tom's cock into his
hand. He could see it pulsing and knew that Tom's hands were busy - one
jerking off the star of the football team, the other supporting him on the
cushion of the couch. Pete ran his thumb across the tip of his buddy's
cock and found it wet. He got into a rhythm, stroking himself with his
left hand and Tom with the right. It was anybody's guess who was going to
sperm first, but Pete guessed that Tom would get Randy off first - that was
always sexier. When Tom gave Pete blowjobs, he always masturbated, but he
never shot his load before Pete had given him his.

Then, suddenly, Randy Paige gave a growl in his sleep, and Tom felt the
first blast of cum hit the back of his throat. He quickly raised his head
as another rope of sperm shot out, just to give Pete a look. It splashed
onto Randy's chest, and Tom quickly took the sperming prick back into his
mouth. Randy might believe that he'd had a wet dream, but how would he
explain his shorts on and cum all over himself? His strong arm continued
to rub the shaft of Randy's prick hard and fast, willing every drop of cum
to shoot out of the low-hanging balls. Just as the liquid ran out, and
Randy's penis began to soften back to its original state, Tom felt the
welcome warmth of his best friend's hand on his cock, jerking for all it
was worth, and then, Randy's penis still in his mouth, Tom gasped and
released a mammoth load onto the front of the couch. Beside him, quietly,
Pete masturbated himself to orgasm, too, unfamiliar with the feeling of his
left hand on his cock, but horned up totally to see his friend sucking down
the juice of the studly teenager. His first blast shot straight up and hit
him on the chin, which almost made him bust out laughing again.

Tom leaned forward and very carefully licked Randy's sperm off his chest
and ripped stomach. Then he cautiously pulled the teenager's shorts back
up, covering up the dick that had only moments before been shooting cum
into his mouth. The beer kicked back in, and Tom felt a bit woozy. He
looked at Pete beside him and saw that his friend was a bit worse for the
wear, too, still holding his softening, wet cock in his hand. "Think it
might be bedtime?" Tom whispered. Pete gazed at him with red eyes. "Yeah,
I think so. Don't even need you to suck me tonight." And that did get
them laughing again, snorting and sputtering while Randy, oblivious to
having been brought into a faggot game, as he would think of it, slept on.