Blame It On The Window

I looked at him, my mouth gapped open. He must be crazy, my mind screamed, but I said nothing as he stood up.

"Just lay back, it'll be good," He said, in that soothing, matter-of-fact tone of his.  Everything in me said this was wrong but I did nothing when he started to remove my clothes. Just sat there, until I was bare butt naked again. Then I felt him sucking on my nipples again and the rest was all a blur.  

In no time he was between my legs, licking from the bottom of my balls to the head of my leaking dick. Quivering like a bowl of jello, I gasped and writhed as he slowly licked lower and lower until I felt those magical sensations again.  

Glancing at the TV I saw the guys had switched and now the tall guy was "fingering" the one on the bed while the other guy straddled his face. Groans and smacks poured out the speakers and as I watched, I felt Mr. Simpson rubbing my asshole with his finger.  I knew what was about to happen but my dick was so hard and everything felt so good, I lay there passive, waiting.  

His finger slicked with spit, Mr. Simpson prodded it about my tight hole, then he pushed in. My toes wiggled and my dick stood straight up. Slowly his long digit advanced, my hole spreading to accept it. It was a bit uncomfortable at first but then he slipped my aching dick back in his mouth and I forgot about the finger.  

Certain I'd blow, I jerked my head up to watch. Mr. Simpson looked at me, his mouth swirling up and down my dick and then his finger sunk deep inside me. I felt it sliding around inside my hole, searching, it seemed.  My mouth forming an "O", I gasped and shrieked when his finger found my prostate. I didn't have a clue what it was then, just that there was a spot, somewhere deep inside me that his finger had magically found.  Bucking and moaning loudly, I accidentally squeezed my ass muscles and then everything went black. I heard myself bellowing, felt my asshole quivering, his finger stimulating that knot inside me, then I felt my dick leap in his mouth.  

Whooping like crazy, I bucked and writhed, my dick firing round after round of tiny explosions. Kaleidoscopes swirled behind my eyelids again and my head spun like a top. Once again, Mr. Simpson was right and that day, I made another advance into the heady world of male on male sex.  

I didn't even complain when Mr. Simpson stood, his dick hard as a brick, and aimed it right at my mouth. Like a cock sucking whore, I took it in my mouth, letting him slide it back and forth on my tongue.  It only took a few thrusts before he was scalding the back of my throat with his spurting load. Like before I held it in my mouth, my eyes on his face as it contorted. When he pulled out, I went to the bathroom and spit his cum out again.  

He joined me at the sink, his arms embracing me as we stared in the mirror. I didn't know it then but I was on the way to becoming a full fledged homosexual. I just knew it felt good to have him hold me and that it didn't matter how much my conscience kept insisting this was somehow wrong.  I snuck over to his place frequently, after that. He was always glad to see me and I never knew where our sessions would lead, which excited me to no end. I was Mr. Simpson's new toy and he hadn't steered me wrong yet, so every visit was an adventure.  Mostly we'd fool around in his room but sometimes we'd do it in his living room, in front of that fantastic TV. I never got over how clear the picture was and how fascinating it was to hear sex in stereo.  Every time I wanted to get a good nutt, I'd hop the fence and duck below the hedges until I was safe inside his kitchen. Calling out for him, he was always happy to see me. And then the fun would start, sometimes, right in the kitchen.  A lot of times I didn't even wear underwear, my need so great, I didn't want the hindrance. My dick would always be hard by the time I got inside. He'd stare at it and smile and I'd blush like a school girl. Then he'd do something that felt good, like rubbing on it through my clothes or just reaching inside and stroking it.  I'd tremble, like the hot teen I was and then my clothes would be off before I could think. His tongue would work wonders on all of my hot spots, starting with my nipples and not stopping until I was flat my back, my legs in the air.  The bed, the shower, the couch in the living room, even one time on the kitchen table. I loved having him lick on my asshole and when he'd stick a finger up there, I knew it wouldn't be long before I'd blast off.  I became insatiable, the few friends I had forgotten. It was me, my dick and Mr. Simpson. I don't know, maybe I was falling for him, but it was all a mixed up bundle of emotions and desire in my head and I couldn't sort it out. I just know it all felt good, the licking, the fingering and especially the hugs and kisses. Mr. Simpson could hold me like nobody and my teen desire ate it up like a hungry puppy.

Our experimentation continued until, what I'd feared the most came naturally. It was a late Sunday afternoon and we were in his bedroom. He'd positioned me on my knees and was behind me, his face planted between my butt cheeks.My head turned towards the window, I moaned softly, my dick jerking upwards, every time his tongue slapped across my hole just the right way. I was lost in ecstasy and didn't even notice the pair of eyes, creeping over the window ceil.  Mr. Simpson stuck his tongue up my asshole and my eyes flung open, just in time to see Nicky dart out of sight.  

Panicked, I jerked up, my eyes bulged. This had to be a nightmare, I thought, running from the room. Mr. Simpson stared at me, confused as I stood in the hallway, peering around the door.

"What...?"  I motioned at the window, my heart beating so hard, I thought I'd pass out. He raised up, peering out the window but saw nothing."Nicky!" I scream whispered."Shit!" Mr. Simpson said, running to the window.  

But no one was there...