The Electric Interruption
Peter’s icy fingers wrapped around the head of his cock as it began to harden. He watched the computer screen where two men sat next to each other stroking away. Both looked off to the right at what he assumed was a tv. The light from the tv danced across their faces, tip toeing on their parted lips and drooping eyelids.
Peter began to stroke his cock when they did. He started off slowly, lightly tapping on the tip and playing with the corona, circling it with his forefinger. He continued to do this until his dick began to jump at the touch; the senses heightened and the nerves excited. It helped that his fingers were nearly frozen. The heater broke again, and the near zero temperatures of Brooklyn had seeped in his apartment walls.
The men quickened their pace, and Peter attempted to match it. His hand would slide up as their hands would slide up. His hand would slide down as their hands would slide down. All three began to pant, bright red lips quivered, and eyelids fluttered. Abs clenched and unclenched. Biceps bulged and thighs tightened. Muscles contracted and released. Strokes became more frantic; large hands sliding up slippery shafts, around the head, and down the shaft again. Skin slapped against skin as hands angrily collided with the base of thick cocks. Right arms went behind heads as mouths turned into O’s. They could feel it coming. The tight swirling in the lower abdomen began to grow stronger and balls clenched. The universe stopped moving as their cocks filled with energy ready to blow.
The lights in the apartment suddenly flashed and the computer screen vanished. Peter’s hand froze mid-shaft as he stared at the black screen. The power had gone out.
“Fuck!” Peter said under his breath as he was pulled back from the two men and into the reality of his one-room apartment. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. Why now?” he said to himself. Dealing with the loss of what could have been the best orgasm of his life, he lay in bed, eyes staring at the stained ceiling, hands to the side. His cock continued to twitch.
After a few minutes, and what felt like the five stages of grief, he sat up and closed his laptop. “Sorry buddy, looks like you’re going to have to wait,” he said to his erection and sat up. Reaching over to his bedside table, which happened to also function as a dining table, he grabbed a palm-sized leather-bound notebook. He untied the strings, opened the book, and flipped through pages. Each page had two names on it and a brief description of what their asshole’s felt like, how big their dicks were, and a number rating them out of ten. These weren’t his writings.
The first five pages were the records of Joey Noble. He was Peter’s best friend in high school. Joey was a junior when Peter was a senior. So when Peter left to move to Brooklyn, Joey wanted to give him a piece of himself. He handed Peter his Fuck Book. During the semester, Peter found himself reading the scrawled entries over and over.
Dalton Bishop 7/10
6in. cock, short but thick. Large arms and bulging pecs. On our
basketball team. He approached me in lockers. Took my cock
in his hole on his hands and knees. Jerked him off as I fucked
him from behind. Very hairy. Power bottom.
Peter enjoyed picturing Joey taking another boy from behind, but also felt a tinge of jealousy. All the boys Joey stuck his dick in were Peter’s old classmates. He turned eighteen at the beginning of senior year, so his options were very limited in high school.
Peter flipped through the next few pages where he began to make entries a few months back when he started college. He only made four and none of them were particularly good. One was a seven, the rest fives. He considered them practices, not “the real thing”. 0.1 through 0.4. But he knew who may be his first #1. Last night, he wrote in a new name; Zach. He hadn’t fucked the guy yet, but he planned on it.
Peter put the book down, and picked up his cell phone lying next to the book, quickly tapping the landlord’s number. The phone rang a few times until the landlord finally picked up.
“Peter? Do you know what time it is?” the landlord said incredulously.
“I wouldn’t need to call if you paid the damn electricity bill,” he retorted.
“Why do you care? It’s 3 in the morning.” Peter hesitated and looked down at his fading erection feeling a deep sadness.
“I was… in the middle of something, then the power cut off. And don’t get me started on the heater.”
“Well, if your rent was on time, maybe I would’ve paid the bill.”
“Yeah, well, go fuck yourself,” he said and then hung up. Peter sighed deeply and then redialed the landlord. “Zach, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that.”
“I know Peter,” he said. “Get to sleep.” Then he hung up. Peter put his phone down and sighed. Well, there’s always a next time, he thought. He didn’t continue masturbating because once you’re interrupted, it won’t be perfect. And every jack off should be perfect.