Jordan

I’m not really that much of a talker, especially about things that mean very much to me.

There may be lots of reasons for that:  my three older sisters spoiled me, I was blessed with natural athletic skills, as well as good looks, both of which brought more friends than I probably cared about, and things either came easy for me or I didn’t really care much about them, unless it was something like math, and that mostly just pissed me off.

Jordan, on the other hand, somehow became an enigma to me.  He was kind of spoiled, but not really.  He was way more attractive than he seemed to know.  He was kind to everyone, but at the same time really didn’t seem to give a shit about what people thought about him.  I didn’t know of a single girl who would turn him down for a date, and yet he almost never asked a single one out for a second time.  And what he may have lacked in athletic skills he more than made up in sheer determination and effort.  Plus he seemed to have this crazy brain that just never seemed to stop.

So I found myself wanting to get to know this guy, even if I didn’t really have the time or space.  My girl always wanted more of me, other than my cock, which she more often than not complained about because it was too big.  My sports and other buddies seemed to talk endlessly about how they wished they had my skills, my looks, or my body, even going so far as to outwardly saying they wished they had a cock like mine.  And I seemed to be able to lure almost any guy I wanted into giving me a blow job, or letting me even fuck them, or get one of them to fuck another of them.  Almost anywhere.

And then there was Jordan.  Was he so religious he didn’t really care about sex?  Were his hormones just not functioning like the rest of us, even if mine might have been in overdrive?

So maybe that was another temptation, although I swear I never had any intention of making him anything less than what he was.  But no matter what I tried to get his attention, he almost seemed not to care.  And yet somehow that intrigued me, way more than it pissed me off.

My writing this isn’t going to help anyone believe I’m not a talker.  Even more than trying to figure out Jordan, I mostly just tried to figure out why I almost seemed obsessed with this guy, and even increasingly so.  I had no clue whatsoever.

And in the midst of that I found myself writing him a note.  And not even one, but actual drafts.  From someone who barely ever wrote anything, as this final note filled both sides of a legal page, even if it did continue to seem like just blabber.  Damn.  What was making me do this?

But hell, no one would ever believe I had written such a thing anyway.  The two of us just knew each other in passing.  And I had never known Jordan to do anything remotely mean to anyone, no matter how much he probably should have.  Was that part of what had kept my uncle spending so much time with Jordan’s dad?

So I slipped the note into Jordan’s locker.  Fuck.  I hadn’t ever even written a letter to a girl, let alone a guy.  And here I was basically hiding so no one would catch me.

And then he didn’t respond.  At least not all that quickly.  But somehow even that didn’t bother me, even to the point that I quietly asked to make sure he got the note.

Wow.  Who could have guessed how deep his response would hit me:  “Of course.  Sorry I didn’t say anything.  I was still trying to think what I should say.  I promise I’ve never not liked you.”

And then he paused.

“Honestly, I’m flattered in ways I don’t even know how to respond to.”

How could that not flatter me back?  But somehow I wasn’t remotely interested in being flattered.  For whatever strange reason, I really wanted to get to know this guy.

I offered him my hand.  Jordan took it.  Even his damned hand was warm.

Shit.  I didn’t shake people’s hands either.  I joked, I’d slap, I’d halfway abuse, especially guys.  And they almost always seemed to want more of it.

“Thank you.”  Fuck.  Such a nice guy.  I looked into his blue eyes.  He almost seemed embarrassed looking into mine, even if for just a second.  I probably held his hand too long, especially when my typical response would have been to try to overpower whoever was on the other side.

“I really didn’t mean to trouble you.  I really had no idea you would ever even be interested in me.  I know you’re busy.  I know you have plenty of demands on your time.”

This guy didn’t stop.  Even as I knew he was at least as busy as me.  Doing real things.  Real things, for real people.  For almost anyone who he seemed to think he could help.  And he was just happy to do it.  As I mostly just nonchalantly entertained people with my naturally given skills, or gifts. 

Even the dudes who had sucked my dick hadn’t kept me this interested.

“You have time to go for a ride?”

“Of course, if you do.”

And maybe that was the first indication that some new kind of door might be opening, whether I was ready or not.  But I swear the only thing that felt drawn to him at this point was my heart.  Fuck.  As if I had ever felt that before.

We had a nice ride.  A nice visit.  Even if I don’t seem to be able to remember even a single thing we talked about.  I had never wanted even a date to be more pleased than I hoped he was. He shook my hand as we parted.  I was immediately pissed that I forgot to schedule a next visit.

And no satisfaction of any kind so far.  Damn.  I couldn’t even get my mind off of him when I was with my girl that night.

I jerked off, as always, and tried to think of him then.  No relief there either.  I had to think of something else to get me to shoot.  I tried getting a blowjob from one of these regular guys.  Thinking of Jordan stopped me from cumming.

Fuck. 

At least otherwise life seemed so simple…