Jiggling the latch on the locker to get it to stay closed was something I would not miss. Another month until graduation and I would be out of here. Almost everyone in my class felt that way; although, I knew that on graduation day, half of them would be crying their eyes out and claiming how much they’d miss the place. I had plans, and they didn’t include the boring classes I was taking here. The teachers spent too much time going over stuff that we already knew. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. I hoped college would be different.
“Hey, Jason.”
I turned and looked down toward the source of the sound. It was Colt Peterson, the five-six brother of Emily Peterson, homecoming queen and pretentious bitch who thought she was the Princess of the World. Colt couldn’t help that I looked down on him. I looked down on almost everyone. At six foot three, most people were below my eye level.
“What do you need, Colt?”
“I’ve got something that I want to talk to you about. After school. Walk or talk?”
“Fuck walking,” I said. “I’ve got my truck. You can hide in the bed. I’ll give you a ride home.”
“OK,” he nodded.
“I’m kidding. You can ride up front. Hell, man, what kind of guy do you think I am?”
He was smiling; he knew I was joking. “I’ll meet you in the parking lot after school.”
I watched Colt walk away. What the fuck could that guy have to tell me? But I’d go with him. I felt sorry for him. With a sister like that, his life had to be miserable. People avoided him. They’d called him names in middle school. Until I punched Kirby Weller down for calling him a faggot. I got a day’s in-school suspension, but it was worth it. Well, I had one more class before the day was over, and it was my favorite one. In fact, it was the only one I really liked. Mr. Hendricks was one of the few cool teachers at the school. He taught computers, and if you had a question about something that was actually important, he’d talk about it. Doing a website for your family business, or doing your business logo. How to do a newsletter. He’d taught me all those things. Now I was learning how to do coding, and not the kind where you move a turtle around on a screen. I could write a program that would display a dialog box and take data from text boxes. They were things I knew I could use.
I didn’t have to wait very long for Colt to show up. He jumped right up in the passenger seat and slumped down.
“Fucking sit up straight. You’re gonna make people think that I’m trying to sneak off with you,” I shook my head and blew out a deep breath. “You gonna tell me what this is about?” I asked as I headed out of the parking lot and toward his house.
“Not until we get there.” I sensed a nervous quiver in his voice.
The last time someone wanted to meet with me after school and sounded nervous about it was when Darla Elmot wanted to draw my chest for art class. She wanted me to pose without my shirt on. It was all done in secret, and I never told anyone how she measured the distance between my nipples and shit like that. On the last day, she came close to me and moved her hand from my chest to my crotch. She told me she wanted to thank me for posing for her. Her eyes widened as she felt me get hard.
“You’re a lot bigger than Toby. I was going to suck you, but I’d bet you’d feel better inside. You make me so wet, Jason.”
I looked over at the drawing she’d just shown me. It did look good, and I did want to know what it would feel like to slide my dick in a tight wet hole.
“I can’t,” I said. “I don’t want to risk any babies. Blowing me is one thing; fucking you is entirely different.”
“Fuck you,” she spat as she stepped back.
I wondered how many other guys had dipped their wick in her crotch. I guess no one else had refused her. It didn’t matter. I put my shirt on and left. I jerked off later, as usual, and as for the drawing, it was put on display at the city library. They titled it Grecian Athlete. That made me laugh. I don’t think there’s any Greek in me.
“Want me to park in the back?” I asked Colt as I turned onto his street. I laughed as I saw him roll his eyes.
“Just over there so you don’t block the driveway.” He pointed. The space was partially in front of his house and partially in front of the house next door.
I got out and walked to the sidewalk.
“We’re going to my workshop,” Colt said.
“Your workshop?” I asked.
“Yeah. It was my clubhouse when I was younger, but now I work on my hobbies and stuff in it. It’s the old storage building that we have out back. It’s got air conditioning.”
“That’s cool.” I chuckled at my own little joke. Colt said nothing. I don’t think that he got it. I noticed that he was hurrying across the yard to what looked like a rather nice building. It was freshly painted, had a metal roof, and the grass around it was trimmed and neat.
“Dad says I can use it as long as I keep everything shipshape.”
“And Bristol fashion,” I added.
“What’s that mean?” he asked.
“It’s a British term. I learned it in English class. Shipshape and Bristol fashion means neat and orderly.”
“Shipshape and Bristol fashion,” repeated Colt. “That’s what I’m trying to do.” He unlocked the door and allowed me to step in.
Even in the light from outside, I could tell the place was neat. I moved farther in and turned toward the door, resting my ass against a workbench made of plywood. Colt closed the door and clicked on a ceiling light. A warm yellow glow filled the room.
“You can have a seat on my cot, if you want,” he said.
I took a seat where he pointed. I was surprised at the softness of the cushion under me. I looked over at Colt. We were close to eye level. I could sense a tenseness. I wasn’t sure whether I should try to break the tension, but I remained quiet.
He kept looking at me and then looking away. Thirty seconds of silence can seem like forever when you’re waiting for someone to start talking.
“I’m not sure where to start,” he finally said. “You know, sometimes you act like a really tough guy who doesn’t give a shit about anything or anyone. You give off an attitude that keeps people from getting close to you, but I know you care about things. You kept me from having a miserable existence in high school by beating the shit out of that asshole Weller, and I don’t think I ever thanked you for it.
“So, thank you.”
I was starting to feel a little uncomfortable. If he could see through me, who else could.
“I am a faggot, Jason.” Colt looked down at the ground.
“No. No, you’re not. That’s a vile thing to say about yourself or about anyone. You might be gay, and it’s OK if you are. But faggot is a mean, ugly word.”
Colt looked up into my eyes. “Thank you for saying that.”
I couldn’t look away from him. I knew I needed to. I needed to tell him that he was welcome, and then I needed to get up and leave.
Colt stepped closer to me. “You’re so handsome, Jason.”
Oh, fuck, I thought. He’s going to kiss me. I remained fixed in the spot; how did I feel about that? It took me an instant to know. My dick started to get hard.
“I want to suck your dick, Jason. I’ve never done it, so I’m sure I won’t be that good at it, but you’ll tell me, won’t you. Can I?”
I grunted a quiet yeah, and Colt reached down to undo my belt. I moved my hips forward to allow him better access, and then I undid the belt for him before unfastening the button and unzipping my pants. He pulled at the waistband, and I let my pants and underwear travel down to my knees. My dick, already on its way to getting hard, bounced up toward him.
“Wow,” he whispered. “It’s even bigger than I dreamed.”
I felt somewhat light-headed. He’d dreamed about my dick. I’d never dreamed about anyone’s dick, but this guy had dreamed about mine.
His mouth was warm and wet as the first few inches of my cock disappeared between his lips. If he was inexperienced, I couldn’t tell. I was amazed at the sensation; it beat using hand lotion all to hell. I could spend the rest of my life just sitting here and letting him slobber and suck on the end of my cock.
A familiar sensation began to grow inside me. I recognized it. I hadn’t jerked off in about a week, and I was about to spew forth my seed. I wanted to hold back. I wanted this to last longer. I wasn’t ready for this to end.
I moved my hands to Colt’s shoulders. My breathing became quicker and shallower as I started to hump my hips toward him. His mouth seemed to open a little more, and more of my shaft moved in and out over his tongue.
I grunted deeply as I came. The wet sound of my dick moving in and out of Colt’s face changed, and he sat back. Cum dripped from the side of his mouth, but I could tell he’d swallowed at least some of it. In one of my fantasies of getting a blowjob, I would stand up and pull up my pants before announcing that the quality was OK but that I’d had better. In another, I’d pushed the guy onto the ground and belittle him with, “That was fucking awful.”
Today, I looked at Colt, and I wanted him. I pulled him to me and kissed him. I pushed my tongue into his mouth and tasted my own seed. I knew just what I wanted; we were only getting started.
