Catharsis Ch. 02

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Bigtitsatschool

CHAPTER 2: ABREACTION

The night Coach Henry Jacobs of Jefferson Davis High was living out his fantasies with Asad Udovicic, the school’s star quarterback, Anthony Breslin had been the same thing he was doing now- furiously masturbating to his own.

On the whole, Anthony’s erotic longings were quite a few shades less disturbing than the Coach’s.

Breslin had known Udovicic since well before he even knew he was gay, and they had grown up together in the same boring-ass suburb of Houston, a tiny speck on the map known as Canaan, Texas. They had shared many of the same teachers, and many of the same classes, including Amy Bookman’s.

Tony smiled as he thought about Asad banging their Bio teacher. Mrs. Bookman was a cutie, he had to admit, even though a woman like her would have never looked at Tony twice on the street. The situation was typical of the trajectory of Asad and Anthony’s friendship after puberty. The awkward little Croatian boy with the funny name shot up to 6’2 practically overnight, their sophomore year, he gained muscle mass, and began to display a heretofore unanticipated aptitude for sports. By the start of junior year, the legend about Udovicic’s enormous trouser snake had spread to every corner of Jefferson Davis High, and something like a cult had formed around him amongst the girls.

Not that Tony was a slouch in the looks department per se.

A lot of girls thought Anthony was cute. He had a sensitive, pretty face, with well-defined cheekbones, and a decent jawline, but he knew he wasn’t in Asad’s league. At eighteen, he had already had a couple of girlfriends, just beards really, but no boyfriends. He had plenty of opportunities, but the time simply didn’t feel right to declare his sexuality. He wasn’t ready for that kind of scrutiny. Certainly, there were a small number of “out” kids at Jefferson Davis- band geeks, and drama club queens Tony felt he had little in common in with.

“Flamers,” his friends called them, and he couldn’t help but share their casual homophobia, their implicit allegiance to the idea of rigid gender roles, and their doggedly heteronormative view of sexuality. There’s nothing more conservative, Tony mused in private, than a typical teenager in a predominantly white, suburban high school; for Tony to attempt to buck the trend would have been social suicide.

“Flamers”, he had repeated, echoing their patriarchal hatred for individuals with the stones to blur gender roles. Inside, Tony had to admit he was quite a bit jealous over how comfortable the out kids were with their sexuality, proudly swishing their hips as they walked down the hallways, ignoring the catcalls from the redneck kids. Someday, Tony would have that courage. As it stood, he had only come out to two people at school.

He was an underachiever in other ways too.

Despite his above average intelligence, Breslin was a solid C student. “Brilliant but lazy” was what his teachers labeled him, and more than once, he pointed out that such a description was clichéd, and thus indicated a lack of effort on their own part.

“Try to think of something a little less pat, Mrs. Crenshaw,” Breslin had replied to his English teacher, on one such occasion.

“Don’t be such a smartass, Tony. We might be in the home stretch, but you’re not out of the woods yet. How would you like to graduate in August?” She replied, with a smirk.

Tony’s face reddened, but he had laughed along with the rest of the class. He did not hold grudges, and he liked jokes, even ones at his expense (provided they were amusing, and not merely mean-spirited). At the end of the day, there was nothing that Mrs. Crenshaw could say that could really phase him.

The fact was that Tony disdained of a formal education, and academia in general. He saw college for the racket it was.

As he told his buddy Carson Fujiyama:

“Fuck it, I wouldn’t get anything out of it, anyway. I’m not a hard-core intellectual. And anyway, don’t most companies prefer an uneducated labor pool they can easily exploit now?”

What Breslin wanted, even more badly than Asad Udovicic, was to be a stand-up comedian. He enjoyed the stand-up of Daniel Tosh, Aziz Ansari, and Anthony Jeselnik. His dream was to take part in a Comedy Central roast, and sit next to Lisa Lampanelli at a celebrity roast.

But that was something that lay far in the future.

At the moment, Anthony lay in bed, cold, blue moonlight slanting though the venetian blinds, throwing a pattern across his sheets. He closed his eyes, and imagined himself walking in on Asad changing in the boy’s lockerroom…

His iphone chimed indicating a new text message. Anthony was shocked when he saw that it was from Asad. Speak of the Devil.

Anthony had recently confessed to Asad that he had long harbored a schoolboy crush on him. It was the spur of the moment thing, and nobody was more surprised than Tony that it had happened at all.

Asad’s response was to hug him, promise not to say a word to anyone, and then ignore him in the hallways subsequently.

“Hey, man, casino şirketleri what are you up to?” Asad’s text said.

“Nothin. U?” He replied.

“Nuthin. Bored. Can I come over? I need to talk to you about something.”

Anthony paused to consider for a moment. What could Mr. Popularity possibly want to do with him so late in their high school career?

“Yeah,” Anthony replied, at last, to Asad’s query.

Asad arrived at Tony’s ranch style house twenty minutes later.

“Come in,” Tony said at the door.

Tony took in the sight of Udovicic crossing the threshold of his house for the first time in years, and had to hide his smile.

“Nothing’s changed,” Asad said, looking around at the sundry knick-knacks Tony’s mother had arranged around the modest living room.

The teen athlete stood a little over six feet, his black hair neatly shaved in a military style cut. He had a ruggedly handsome face, with strong Eastern European features, and a broad scimitar of a nose which led him to being mistaken for a Turk, oftentimes.

His full, rose-colored lips were wrapped around a straw, and Tony couldn’t help but flash on something he’d read online as Asad slurped the last of his Big Gulp: according to certain message boards, the color of a man’s lips was the same color as the head of his dick.

“Let’s go to my room,” Tony said, as casually as he could, “bet I can still kick your ass at Dead or Alive.”

“Shit, you couldn’t beat my ass at Pac-Man.”

Asad followed Tony upstairs. Breslin turned on his X-box, and before long the pair quickly fell back into their old familiar rhythms.

As they played for hours, Tony could not stop thinking about how he was sitting just a couple feet from the muse of so many of his most intense sexual fantasies. He struggled hard to keep the satisfaction from showing in his face, and reminded himself that it was never going to happen. Hell, in his khaki shorts, and Birkenstock sandals, Asad already looked the part of the handsome suburban dad he would someday be.

“That was fun,” Tony said, when it was over.

“Yeah. What time is it?” Asad asked. He yawned.

“A little after midnight. You going home?”

“I guess I better.”

Tony sensed an opportunity. Asad looked exhausted.

“You know…you can crash here, if you want,” Tony said.

Asad raised a quizzical eyebrow.

“Can I now?” The jock said, in a playful tone.

“So what did you want to talk about?” Tony said, eager to change the subject.

“I’m going to quit the team,” Asad said.

“What? No way!” Anthony said.

“Yeah…”

Silence now. Asad averted his gaze from Tony’s probing eyes.

“I guess this is probably the obvious question, but since you don’t seem intent on elaborating, I hope you don’t mind if I ask why?”

“Just because.”

“Weren’t you being courted by Tulane, and other schools to go play?”

“It wasn’t an easy decision to make, but I…I made up my mind,” Asad said.

“What’s wrong?” Anthony asked.

Tony was witnessing the rare spectacle of Asad Udovicic in a vulnerable state.

Anthony wanted to reach over to touch Asad, to hold him, and talk to him about whatever was bothering him. He didn’t want to embarrass the big jock, however. After a half-second’s worth of consideration, Breslin decided on the manliest way to initiate body contact, and punched him in the arm.

“If I tell you this…”Asad began, and trailed off.

“If you tell me what?

“No, I shouldn’t,”

“Tell me. Whatever it is, you can tell me.”

“You have to promise not to tell a soul.”

“You kept my secret. I can keep yours,” Anthony said.

Anthony’s interest was really piqued now. He wondered what big, shameful secret Asad had to divulge. Everybody knew about the thing with Mrs. Bookman. There were rumors that Asad was heavy into coke. Whatever it was, it something he couldn’t reveal to the members of his usual group, the crème de la crème of Jefferson Davis High.

“Coach Jacobs fucked me,” Asad said, at last, with a drawn out exhalation.

Holy shit, Anthony thought.

“Fucked you, like in the ass?” He asked.

“No, fucked me like in the ear- yes, in my ass!”

Tony’s cheeks felt hot.

“Keep your voice low, man, my mom might still be awake,” Tony said.

“Sorry.”

“Tell me what happened.”

As Asad told his story, Tony’s face grew more and more concerned, even as his penis hardened. He crossed his legs several times, and strategically placed his hands so it wouldn’t show.

Asad didn’t skimp on the details. He told his friend about the habitual cocaine use that led to him nearly being prostituted to a strange man by Coach Henry Jacobs. Tony’s jaw dropped, as Asad told him about the Francophile, who spoke terrible French, and had even worse manners, about the willowy Japanese queen who tittered like a bored socialite while he was degraded.

Udovicic shuddered, recalling the way Coach Jacobs’ hot breath had blown on his neck, when he said, “I want to casino firmaları fuck the shit out of you.” Asad, the school’s star quarterback, had been reduced to a sexual plaything, and the most horrible part, he confessed, was that it wasn’t nearly as bad as he thought it would be.

In fact, he’d experienced a shattering climax.

“I guess going to the police is out of the question?” Tony said, at the end of his friend’s story.

“Yeah, I don’t think so. I’m eighteen. My name and face would be on the news. I would become the poster boy for male-on-male rape. That’s not how I want my whole life to be defined,”

“Besides,” Asad continued, “I heard he has an in with the Mexican mafia.”

“I wouldn’t worry about them. They only protect their own- Jacobs is, I believe, Scots-Irish. Anyway, they mainly kill in matters of territorial dispute.”

“All I know is I’m glad I won’t have to deal with him again,” Asad said.

“But you can’t quit the team. Not just yet. It’s your meal ticket,” Tony said.

“I don’t like the thought of him watching me in the showers, smiling, knowing what he did to me. He was really rough.”

“Show me,” Tony said.

Asad took off his shirt. His pecs were amazing, firm, and around, and lightly covered with hair. Finally, he could look at them up close. They were thick, and bounced, covered in a sweaty sheen when he ran track after school, shirtless, but Tony had only glimpsed this from afar.

The big jock’s smooth white chest was mottled with pink suck marks. There was a trail of them leading down to his six pack, and further down, into his shorts.

“Wow,” Tony said.

Udovicic slipped out of his khakis. Asad knew he was taking a chance, knew that Tony had feelings for him, but he needed to show someone what happened.

Tony turned away as his friend pulled down his boxers, ashamed at himself for being so aroused by the thought of his friend’s sexual humiliation.

“Don’t be a pussy, Tony. Look. It’s what you want to do. We both know that, so look,” Asad said.

Breslin’s looked, and took in the breathtaking sight of Asad Udovicic naked.

Here, at last, was Asad’s dick, the fabled Anaconda, in all its glory. It dangled between the teen’s sinewy quads, like a fleshy hose, a long, thick dorsal vein running down its length. The tip of his glans caught the lamp’s yellow light in a diffused spray of tiny pinpricks.

Then Asad turned, and there were bruises on his ass. There were a good half dozen, overlapping bluish-purple handprints across the twin domes of his muscled glutes.

Seeing his gallant knight’s body defiled in this way, angered him. He felt umbrage on behalf of his friend for being humiliated, for being exploited by a predator who traded on his position of authority to gain the confidence and trust of unsuspecting young men.

However a darker part of Tony, below all this righteous indignation felt only a sense of resentment, as though a treasure had been stolen from him.

“Asad, I have to be honest with you. I’m hard as a rock right now,” Tony said.

“I know,” Asad said.

“Would you let me kiss it?”

Tony looked into Asad’s eyes for what seemed like a long time. Even as he spoke the words, Tony knew it was an impudent suggestion, quite baldly stated, and insensitive on the heels of everything Asad had just said.

So it was a mystery to him, and always would be, why the jock stud, the star quarterback, assented with a single nod of his head.

He had dreamt about this moment for a long time, had stroked his rod raw to what he assumed was an impossible scenario.

Breslin kneeled down, and kissed Asad’s bulbous, blush colored cockhead. It was a wet, sloppy kiss, and Tony soon began to envelop more and more of the teen’s enormous penis in his mouth.

“I thought you just wanted to give it a kiss,” Asad said.

Tony slid the cock out of his mouth, with a noisy sucking sound.

“Yeah, a French kiss,” Tony said.

Asad closed his eyes. He was beginning to get used to these spontaneous blowjobs from long time admirers. He imagined it was Mrs. Bookman’s mouth swallowing his dick.

Asad’s penis hardened, took on girth and length as it came alive in Tony’s mouth.

Tony worked the monster for a good half hour, sucking Asad’s dick like he was mad at it. Clearly, Udovicic thought, he was copying something he’d seen in a porno.

“Hang on,” Tony said.

Anthony grabbed fountain drink Asad had brought in with him. He took off the lid, and poured watery coke and melting ice cubes into his mouth.

He reached down to jerk his monster, as he resumed his post…

Asad moaned softly, eyes rolling into the back of his head, spinchter contracting, as he oozed his thick, creamy semen into Tony’s eager mouth.

In that second, Tony felt his nuts tighten, and then a delicious sense of release flooded him. His moaned, as he sprayed Asad’s ankles with his seed.

Tony pulled away from Asad’s glans, gluey strands of jock spunk stretching, and snapping as the expanse güvenilir casino between his lips and the massive penis widened.

He swallowed the Asad-flavored slurry in his mouth.

Semen drooled down Breslin’s chin. He licked his lips clean, and wiped the remaining goo off with the back of his hand.

“Good to the last drop,” Tony said, smiling.

Asad looked away, his cheeks burning red.

“You liked it, don’t pretend. I’ve never heard of anyone having buyer’s remorse after getting head,” Tony said.

Udovicic didn’t reply. He had satisfied his urge to explore, in the wake of his rape, but he wouldn’t admit to enjoying this little experiment. It was shameful, and unmanly.

“Okay, maybe it wasn’t that great-my fault. I’ve never done it before,” Tony admitted.

“It wasn’t that bad,” Asad said, at once overcome with a swell of pity for his friend.

The teen knew Tony would remember this night forever as one of the highpoints of his high school career, and he didn’t want to ruin that for him, despite his reservations.

Talking about damning someone with faint praise, Tony thought, and couldn’t help chuckling a bit.

He tucked his subsiding erection back into his shorts, but a second later, he was taking off his shirt, and shoes.

“What are you doing?” Asad asked.

“Just making myself more comfortable,” Tony said.

Breslin unzipped his jeans and let them drop to the ground. His legs were gangly, pale as the underside of a fish, and finely dusted with brown hair. Semen glistened across the front of his Ninja Turtles boxers.

“A blow job’s far as it’s going to go, man,” Asad said.

Anthony stared at Udovicic. Did he mean that night’s sexual activity, or romantically, for both of them? Probably both, a cold voice inside him said. But he was undeterred. Asad had the look of boy who wanted to try new things, but had to be cajoled into doing so.

Breslin couldn’t help but note with pleasure that Asad had not recoiled, or run to the bathroom to wash off his semen, which still oozed down the jock’s hairy ankles.

Yes, something could happen here, Tony thought, if he didn’t push Asad hard.

“Okay, but I sleep naked. And I’m going to insist that you share the bed with me,” Tony said.

“I don’t know about that, I’m not a…”

Asad groped for the right word, desperate not to offend his old friend.

“A faggot?” Tony offered.

“That’s not what I meant,” Asad countered.

“It’s what you were thinking,”

“Come on, man, don’t play the faggot card.”

“The what?”

“You’re trying to shame me into something by saying I’m a bigot if I don’t do it. You’re just embarrassing yourself, Tony. Why do you want to sleep naked, anyway?”

Tony smiled.

“The intimacy. Come on, we’re close friends, right?” he said.

This gave Asad pause.

Asad loved the freedom of showering, and chewing the fat, while bare-assed naked, with his boys. There was nothing sexual in this, rather the pleasure derived from the sense of being totally comfortable with a group of fellow human beings. Indeed, many of the girls called the varsity football players faggots, not out of any real homophobia, but out of pure, feminine spite; they knew they could never hope to share a bond with any of the players as deep as the one they had already formed with each other.

Asad saw some of the same jealousy flickering in Tony’s eyes now. They glittered like sharp, well-scrubbed emeralds.

“Okay,” Asad said, with brief sigh.

Anthony couldn’t help but smile. He climbed in to bed, slid under the covers, and motioned for his jock friend to the same.

Tony threw his arms around Asad, relishing the feel of his naked body pressing against his. He nibbled on the big jock’s ear lobe.

The whole situation was simply unreal. Here was Asad, the Big Man on Campus, vulnerable, needing him for a change, and naked, in his bed.

“You’re very touchy-feely all of a sudden,” Asad said, dryly.

“Maybe it’s because my dad didn’t hug me until I was seventeen,” Tony said.

“Is that a true story or part of your stand up?”

“It’s true.”

Breslin began grinding his genitals against Asad’s ass, and didn’t stop until the stud broke into giggles.

“That tickles, dude.”

“I know,” Tony said.

A part of Tony knew this had all not been staged just for his benefit, and he worried for his friend’s state of being.

“Doesn’t it make you feel…special? Being wanted like this, I mean,” Tony said.

Asad said nothing for a few moments. Then he shrugged, and let out a barely audible, “Maybe.”

Frustrated with the jock’s coyness, Tony licked Asad’s neck, running his tongue along the length of the Croatian’s sternomastoid muscle. He reached down and grabbed Asad’s flaccid cock.

“I’m not sure I’ll behave myself, which is a really fucked up thing to say after what happened to you, I know. You might have to beat me up, because I won’t be able to stop touching you tonight, and I’m not sure I’ll respond to a simple ‘stop’.”

“I won’t beat you up,” Asad said, pressing his buttocks against Tony’s dick.

“Okay. I’m not going to say anything to make you uncomfortable, but you know how I feel about you. It’s just…I like this, Asad. A lot,” Tony said.

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Bir cevap yazın

E-posta hesabınız yayımlanmayacak. Gerekli alanlar * ile işaretlenmişlerdir