Solo Time for a Closeted Texan
“Yo, dudes!” My best friend, Rhys, greeted us at the lunch table, unwrapping a chicken caesar wrap and a bag of chips. “Sup, dudettes!” He turned to Christine and Dana, the resident pair of girls in our core friend group.
We’d pretty much filled out the same lunch table all four years of high school. Rhys, my best bud, who’s a little brash, but who’d been by my side since childhood, John, our buddy on the football team, Brad, who Rhys had met freshman year and who was a bit of a bully to others, but was nice to us, and Dana and Christine.
Christine has had a thing for me since sophomore year. She was hot, but a little all over the place at times. Had we fucked? Sure, a bunch of times, and it was awesome…but would I date her? Nah, that wasn’t for me. Dana, on the other hand, her best friend, was great. She was fun, down to earth, easy to talk to, and didn’t take shit too seriously, just like me. She was too good a friend, though, and had steered clear of me the last two years to respect Christine. That did change last month, though, when she blew me in my car one Friday night. The best head of my life.
“Sup, bitch.” Brad fist bumped Rhys.
“John, can I wear your jersey Friday?” Christine asked him. She kept her eyes on me the whole time as she said it. Rhys flashed me an eye roll, knowing this was just her latest attempt to try to make me jealous, but I couldn’t care les about her attention.
High school had been good to me. Hell, life had in general. I was definitely blessed with some good genes. Last year, though, I got a big fucking curveball thrown into my stupid head. When I jerked off, I was starting to spend a little more time focusing on the guy on the screen. Girls were still great, but I suddenly caught myself walking the school halls looking a little longer at guys, and even Rhys.
“Whatever you want, sure.” John offered, playing with his food. He was a little more chill, like me.
“You gotta put out first, girl! Gotta earn that jersey!” Brad said, wiggling his eyebrows at Christine.
“Ew, stop Brad!” She said throwing a chip at him.
“C’mon he’d be a cake walk if you were able to handle Tucker’s hammer!” Rhys said out of the blue, leaning back in his chair with a shit-eating grin.
I rolled my eyes. “Fuck off.”
Rhys had seen me naked many times at sleepovers and never shut up teasing me about how hung I was. You’d think it would be flattering, but over time, it just became embarrassing that random people in school would often look at me like they knew the rumors.
“How big we talking?” Brad snickered. "Admit it, you can do some damage with that thing!”
I sighed. Apparently, my penis was a constant source of amusement (and maybe a little envy) for my guy friends. I was a solid 6’2 and on top of it, blessed in that department down low.
Christine caught my eye across the table and bit down on her lip, seductively, trying to rope me in. It probably would’ve worked under normal circumstances; a guy wasn’t going to turn down sex after all, but my mind was drifting to other places. She'd always wanted us to be more serious, which made me even more uninterested.
Some guy on the soccer team walked by our table in his jersey. His calves looked huge and the hair coating them looked soft, like it would be warm to nuzzle against. Normally, I would have relished the attention from the girls, but today, I wished far more it was the soccer player’s mouth on me instead.
John, oblivious to the awkwardness around the table, punched my shoulder. "Hey, you coming to the game on Friday, by the way?”
"Wouldn't miss it," I replied, forcing a smile. “Friday night lights, baby!” I loved football and lately, on top of it, the idea of staring down sweaty, athletic guys in tight jerseys was pretty enticing too.
Brad made an ugly, contorted face. “Baby? You sound so fucking gay sometimes, dude…”
“Not everything is ‘gay’ Brad…” Dana said.
Rhys laughed, “the boys just gotta keep each other in line, Dana! We can’t have any sus shit from this group!”
And that was why I was so deep in the closet. Was I bi? Was I gay? I didn’t know and had no chance to figure it out of fear of Rhys or Brad finding out.
We wrapped up lunch, heading off to our last three classes of the day. "Tucker, wait up," Dana said. She placed a hand on my arm, her nails painted a bright, attention-grabbing red. "So, about later…"
I pulled my arm away gently. “Later?”
“After school. Maybe we can hang out?” I could tell by the way she was swaying that the talk at the table had gotten her wanting to hook up again.
I didn’t want any distractions today. The only moments I had to enjoy a guy’s body were when I was alone and staring at a screen. “Gotta study, Dana. Big test coming up."
"Studying can wait," she purred, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "I bet I can think of a better way for you to relieve some stress." She leaned closer.
"Thanks, but I'm good," I said, my voice sounding surprisingly firm. "Catch you later." I practically bolted out of the cafeteria, desperate for some space to breathe.
The afternoon crawled by. My classes were a blur of droning teachers and bored classmates. I had to fight back like four obvious boners that afternoon, my body impatiently waiting for me to get home. Being ‘big’ down there made this part of life really difficult to hide the random horniness that inevitably hit an eighteen year old guy three hundreds times per day.
Finally, the last bell rang, and I practically sprinted home. As soon as I walked through the door, I headed straight for my room and locked it. I collapsed onto my bed, staring up at the ceiling.
I got up and walked over to my desk. In the bottom drawer, hidden beneath a pile of old textbooks, was a black box. Inside was a silicone sleeve that I’d ordered a few weeks ago from a website that promised to deliver it in an inconspicuous package.
I took it out, the smooth, slightly sticky texture familiar in my hand. I’d used it almost daily since the day it came. I grabbed some lube from my bedside table. Of course now I wasn’t even really hard, but I knew that I wanted to cum. I was eighteen…I always wanted to cum…
I flicked open my laptop. I wasn’t sure exactly what I was looking for, as long as a dick was involved. Muscled bodies, chiseled faces, and masculine eyes that promised a world of pleasure I couldn't even begin to imagine. I scrolled through them, my pulse quickening with a mix of shame and excitement washing over me.
I honed in on one between a guy in his forties and one my age. I’d learned the last few weeks that he was called a ‘twink’. The one my age was on his knees, his head bobbing up and down as he serviced the other guy. I pictured myself first as the guy standing, getting head and dominating over another male. I applied a generous amount of lube on my now hard 8.5 inch (22cm) cut cock and into the sleeve, before sliding it down over my dick.
I’d ordered the biggest one the site had, which was still an inch shorter than my cock. The blessing and curse of being so hung…
I began to stroke myself and heard the wet, loud noises of the silicone squishing up against my thick cock. No one was home, nor would they be for a while, so I let the noises of the horse meat attached to my slim, smooth body blare out in my house.
Now, I couldn’t help but picture myself as the guy on his knees. I closed my eyes, imagining what it would feel like to taste a man. The curve of his cock against my tongue. The sound of his moans filling my ears. The taste…I couldn’t begin to guess what it would be like.
Faster and faster I pumped, my hips rocking back and forth with growing intensity. The fantasy in my head became more vivid, more real. I was no longer just watching. I was there. I was the one on my knees.
I started to moan, the sounds being drowned out by the wet noises coming from my lap. I felt muscles up and down my body start to flex and contort, preparing to power out a release. The pressure built and I felt heat spread through my core.
“Oh, fuck…fuck…” I gasped, speeding up my hand even faster, trying to overwhelm my already sensitive dick with overwhelming stimulation.
One last, desperate stroke, and I exploded. A gallon of cum shot into the sleeve, the force of it sending shivers down my spine. I collapsed back, panting, my body trembling.
I was so desperate for dick that I was willing to have it be my own. I turned the sleeve upside down and let a glob of my own seed dribble into my palm. Raising it up to my face, I inhaled the strong, earthy scent…I didn’t care, it was about what it was. I ran my tongue along my palm, carefully lapping up every drip of my own semen, tasting the bitter, salty, stickiness. I could almost feel my dick getting hard again, knowing what this was. If only it were someone else’s…
I cleaned myself up, tossed the sleeve back into its hiding place, and turned off the laptop. The room was silent and I had clarity. I couldn't keep living like this. I had to find a way to hook up with a guy, and I knew there were apps that could help…
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