Musk

The front door creaked open as I hastened upstairs to my room and shut the bedroom door behind me. I hurled my bag onto the floor before realizing my laptop was in there, but I didn't care. I leaped on my bed and I felt so horny. I started thrusting my pelvis on my pillow and a good gush of pre-cum leaked. I closed my eyes and buried my face onto the pillow, concealing my eyes from the afternoon light while trying to expunge the dirty thoughts that clouded my mind. But Adam was so... beautiful. His enticing blue eyes, his massive arms and those manly pecs... I just wanted to—

"Stop!" I roared, my voice buried under the pillow and the sheets of my bed. I couldn't take it. I could no longer contain myself. I promptly took off my shirt, unbuckled my belt and pulled my jeans to my ankles before my white briefs went down too. I was lying motionless on my bed, mulling over what just happened. I squeezed my eyes shut again, trying to force the images out of my head. I have never seen a boy this way.

"Porn," I thought. I dashed to my leather messenger bag that I carelessly threw on the floor and fished my laptop out, relieved to see it unscathed. I flipped it open and hurriedly clicked on my porn stash neatly accumulated in a folder. I clicked on another folder labelled 'Hentai' and took a deep breath before I began masturbating.

There was too much friction. Not leaving my eyes off an exaggeratedly busty pink-haired girl willingly getting abused by a group of monsters, I reached my hand to the second drawer of my nightstand and ransacked the junk in it to find the lubricant. After successfully doing so, I dripped a generous amount on my penis right before stroking it up and down feverishly.

It wasn't doing it for me. I unconsciously sealed my eyes shut, simultaneously closing my laptop with my free right hand.

"Ohhh..." I muttered, recalling Adam's sweet, musky scent through my nostrils. My mind was inebriated with inappropriate thoughts. I imagined being in a small, enclosed, steamy shower cubical with Adam with his smell still present and his body so close to mine, water cascading down his back and down his creamy bubble butt.

"Oh... Jesus," I cried as my right hand groped my balls and went down to teasingly rub the opening of my hole. My heart was going a hundred miles an hour. My cock was hard as rock and I knew I reached the point of no return – the moment that's familiar with every man on earth.

I creamed all over my abs and shot as far as the wall behind me. I couldn't stop moaning.

"Oh...fuck...yes...please..." I breathed heavily as another shot splattered on my left cheek with a few drops on my mouth. I licked my lips, enjoying the warm taste of myself. My penis ached and I finally stopped ejaculating.

My heart decelerated languidly. I lay there on my bed, exhausted, my body completely torpid. That felt so good.

"Holy...fucking...shit..." I managed to whisper before falling straight asleep.

The cacophony of car honks and tyre screeches roused me from my doze. I felt a hint of remorse for choosing to reside along a busy street. Seven twelve, I peered at the analog clock across my pitch dark room. I stared down at my jeans that hung awkwardly on my ankles and slipped it off with a struggle. A gentle smell of semen filled my nose as I revived what just happened. A pang of guilt rushed in me. I've never, ever, not even once, looked at another boy sexually before. I clasped my hands on my face. Am I gay?

As my head dwelled on that question I lolloped out of bed, inadvertently pulling my duvet that clung on my legs onto the floor. Neglecting that, I dragged my body to the bathroom to have a lazy bath. I felt lethargic. My muscles were aching everywhere.

Am I really gay?

I shambled my feet on the hardwood floors to my en suite, opened the white sliding doors, and headed to the sink to wash my face. I took a glimpse of the silver-framed mirror before me.

I've never even came across the thought that I was gay.

I spun around and poked my toes on the surface of the ceramic tub, only to discover it was ice cold. I twisted the red-labelled tap and waited impatiently as the shower warmed my bathtub.

I mean... I don't see anything wrong with being gay; it's the twenty-first century for Pete's sake. I'm just... confused.

I splashed myself in the water, overwhelmed by the soothing warmth. I heaved a sigh as I gradually closed my eyes.

In fact, I haven't put in much thought in my sexuality all my life.

I hopped out of the bathtub, unaware of how long I was in there. I seized a towel and wrapped it around me absent-mindedly after I took a piss.

It's just that... I've never jerked off and felt a tenth of pleasure I felt this afternoon before.

I slipped on a black tank and a pair of silk shorts before rummaging my way to the kitchen down stairs. Passing the living room on my way there, I realised Mum, Dad, and Beck were all seated on the couch watching Juste Pour Rire. I continued dragging myself to the fridge while contemplating on what I should prepare myself to appease my grumbling stomach. Alas, upon fathoming that the new kitchen wasn't remotely familiar I proceeded with a bag of chips to the living room to join my family.

"What's wrong, kid?" Dad pried, probably because my face seemed moody compared to the rest of them who were laughing their heads off.

"Nothing. I just feel a little guilty bringing you all the way here." I lied. I was still ruminating over my sexuality situation.

"What are you talking about? You're the only one with the job in this house. If it wasn't your this move we would all be screwed back in Vancouver." Mum butted in.

It was true. Both my parents were owners of a real estate firm before painfully collapsing after the economic slowdown. Although there was a recession, investment wasn't really on the minds of the people from the small suburban town on the outskirts of Vancouver. Prior to that, we were constantly shifting from one house to another because my picky parents were never satisfied with the current residence. In fact, we moved almost once a year. We're all probably used to it.

"Okay," I mumbled. The three of them stared at me whilst I went back up to my room. I collected a new bed sheets in my closet and began changing the currently stained white fabric. Then I bounced onto my bed, breathing in the smell of new bed sheets. While staring at the ceiling, I couldn't resist thinking about Adam, again. There's something about him that makes me feel funny inside. Still lying on my bed, I reached for my bag that I previously tossed on the floor and retrieved my phone. Out of the blue, a piece of paper came flying out.

I examined the paper clearly torn from a larger piece and discovered a long string of numbers in almost illegible penmanship; and the name 'Adam' written below followed by a distorted-looking smiley face. He must have sneaked this in my bag while I was ogling at him in the locker room. I cringed at my own thoughts. Immediately, I dialed the number on my phone.

"Hello, Adam." I said comfortably, although a thought of me masturbating to him was stinging at the back of my mind.

"Oh, hey," he responded as I heard a faint clanking noise in the background. Cooking, I presume. "I just gave you my number in case you needed me."

"Sure."

"Listen," He giggled. "I wanted to give you our team jersey but you fled off so early. Where did you go anyway?"

"I was late for something," I lied apologetically.

"Was our interview done?"

"I don't think so. I only know that you're eighteen, you're studying Linguistics, and that you 'just kinda like rugby'."

"Fine. What else do you need from me?" His voice sounded a little raspy.

"What else do you do apart from rugby?" I inquired, getting my notebook ready.

"Uhhh... I used to do gymnastics but I'm focusing more on rugby 'cos the GNAs are so close."

"GNAs?" I asked, totally baffled.

"Don't you do your research, boy? I meant the Great North American Rugby Championship."

"I see. Can I get a little personal?"

"Depends on how personal you wanna get, babe."

"Any girlfriends?" I stressed on the plural because I surmised that all 'jocks' were two-timing asswipes.

"Nah... not at the moment. I just broke off with a girl just a week ago." Adam responded.

I was thoroughly beaten. He's not gay. Awesome. Now I feel twice as awful thinking about him when I please myself.

After a long pause, he resumed, "I heard you just started with this magazine. What's it again? Cut? Cot?"

"Colt." I divulged.

"Yeah, remind me to pick it up at the store tomorrow."

"Why?"

"I figured I should know about the magazine that's going to print out my 'life as a jock', right?"

I smiled. He's adorable.

We talked on the phone past midnight. Besides learning that he liked painting, his father was in the air force, his most embarrassing moment was accidentally burping while singing for his middle-school talent show, the fact that he couldn't decide whether he likes sushi or grilled steak more, and that he's fluent in German, French, and Russian, I realised that our conversation consisted of a lot of questions directed to me, which shouldn't be the case by virtue of the fact that I'm supposed to be interviewing him in the first place. We spent so much time talking I managed to reveal my story behind my move from Vancouver.

"What kind of ice-cream do you like?" he asked.

"Choco mint," I replied, ignoring the pointlessness of the question.

"I like vanilla. Actually, I like all kinds of ice-cream. I tried squid-flavoured ice-cream from Japan once." His voice started to get sleepy.

"We've been talking for three hours straight, we should get some sleep."

"Okay," His reply drooling with slight disappointment.

"Goodnight."

"Goodnight, sexy." He murmured right before hanging up.

I couldn't help but think he was flirting with me... at least a little... right? I let go of my phone, pulled my newly-changed sheets, turned my night lamp off, and went sound asleep.