Jon From High School

by Jeremy Jenkins

  It was the sound of dancing around things.

  So fucking annoying!

  I went into the private stall—the one behind the door at the back, and turned on the warm water.

  Peeling off my sweaty clothes didn’t make me feel better. It just made me angrier.

  Because every time I closed my eyes, all I could see was Victor laughing at whatever stupid thing that guy said.

  As I stepped into the water, I combed my memory for that guy.

  I’d never seen him before, and I thought I knew every sorry son of a bitch in this school.

  But that one… he didn’t ring a bell.

  Squeak. Squeak. Squeak.

  Goddammit, even the hiss of the shower couldn’t drown out that insufferable sound—!

  But it was closer than the gym. Someone was out in the locker room.

  It was toward the end of practice; that must have been the sound of another team member cutting out early.

  Of course I couldn’t get any privacy in here. There was no privacy anywhere; always all these people around, crowding out my questioning thoughts.

  But for the first time in my life, I began to crave the silence. I began to crave the feeling of being alone, so I could sift through all of these foreign feelings in my head.

  These feelings that had been lingering on the tip of my tongue.

  Shit, maybe they’d been on the tip of my tongue my whole life; who the fuck knew.

  A knock sounded on the door of the private bathroom.

  I jumped.

  “Jon?”

  “Victor?” I asked, trying to sound more filled with disbelief than desperation. “What the fuck are you doing here? I’m trying to take a shower.”

  Again, it felt like he was asking me if I was all right, when he knew I wasn’t.

  He could pick up on things like that about me when no one else did.

  Shit, Victor Petoskey might have been the only person in the world who really knew me.

  He might have been the only person who gave half a shit about me.

  “I’m just here to ask you what your problem was. That ball hurt, you know.”

  I hurt, you know, my inner voice mocked. “Pussy.”

  He thrust open the door and came inside. “I’m not one of your asshole friends. Don’t call me that.”

  Fuck, I’d forgotten to lock it.

  He let the door close behind him with a soft thud, sealing us both in the private bathroom.

  Suddenly, cold, hard fear percolated through me. “Did anyone see you come in?”

  “No. I was the only one in the locker room.”

  “Lock the door behind you anyway,” I barked from behind the shower curtain.

  I heard the lock latch, and relief flooded through me.

  “What makes you think you can interrupt a guy while he’s taking a shower?” I snarled.

  I was grappling with my emotions. Why did I feel annoyed—but secretly delighted—at the same time?

  “To call you on your bullshit. Why did you throw that ball at Martin and me?”

  “Who the fuck is Martin?” I hissed.

  He paused. I wished I could see his expression.

  “Dude, seriously? He’s been here since the start of the year,” Victor said.

  Was that a gloating tone to his voice, or was I imagining things?

  “I’ve never seen that douchebag before in my life,” I snarled.

  Then, Victor chuckled.

  He fucking chuckled.

  “What the fuck is so funny?!”

  “You’re jealous. It’s so obvious.”

  “Jealous?!” I nearly roared. “Of what?! Of you spending your time with some ugly asshole?”

  “Martin’s not ugly,” he said with a shade of darkness to his voice.

  “So you’re attracted to him.”

  “How is that relevant?”

  “Answer the question.”

  “I don’t have to tell you shit,” he said.

  I was surprised the water that trickled off me didn’t evaporate with the heat of my rage. “Then why are you here?!”

  He pulled back the shower curtain and kissed me, hard.

  He was still in all of his clothes, but he didn’t seem to care. He came right into the shower with me, the water soaking him.

  His lips shaped around mine desperately; needily.

  The door was locked. No one could walk in on us.

  I could… I could submit to him. I could submit to this.

  I could reclaim something I’d lost, but I didn’t even know what that was.

  All I knew was that this… this felt good.

  This felt right.

  I pinned Victor against the tile wall, the warm water running down my naked body. “This is what you wanted?”

  Victor’s black eyeliner ran down his face in long, spidery streaks.

  Fuck, he wore eyeliner? How… how…

  How gay.

  But you know what? I didn’t fucking care anymore.

  I pressed my lips to his and fumbled with his shirt.

  Peeled it off.

  Then I grabbed the button on his skinny jeans.

  Peeled those off, too.

  Before long, we were both naked, making out against the shower wall.

  I knew we didn’t have very much time before practice was over. Soon, the locker room would be flooded with a zillion homophobic jocks.

  But I didn’t care. That thought was far away.

  The only thing I cared about at this moment…

  Was Victor.

  We rotated and then it was him shoving me against the wall, his hands traveling down my body.

  Then he pulled away, reached for the soap, and lathered it in his hands.

  I took some from him.

  Together, we took turns lathering each other up, then sliding against one another in our passionate kiss and fondle session.

  I loved how smooth his body felt beneath mine. His skin was porcelain and pristine, shining in the water.

  I’d seen plenty of naked women in my life. Hell, I’d seen plenty of naked guys, too, being in and out of locker rooms for the past ten years. I’d seen beautiful naked people.

  But Victor? Naked Victor was the first person I’d seen without clothes and really felt he was beautiful.

  I let out a moan as his hand traveled to my crotch and wrapped around my shaft.

  He looked up at me, his dark blue eyes full of mischief. “You like that?” he whispered.

  I nodded vigorously. Fuck, with the soap as lube, I’d like anything.

  Breathing hard, I was sandwiched between the wall and Victor.

  I wouldn’t look at it.

  But I couldn’t not.

  I looked down and saw his massive cock, fully erect, his purple head ascending past his belly button.

  Once I locked my eyes onto it, I couldn’t look away.

  I was dickmatized.

  However, Victor was still looking at my face, gauging my reaction. “You don’t have to touch it—”

  But I wasn’t going to make the same mistake again. I’d been thinking about it all this time—and one thing was for sure:

  I wasn’t going to chicken out.

  I reached down and stroked the shaft.

  Victor tipped his head back, his long, dark hair slopping back.

  I loved the look of how his sinewy neck came up and met his jaw. I loved the drops of water there; clear beads on his flesh.

  Carefully, I wrapped my fingers around his huge shaft.

  He let out a soft moan.

  After that, I couldn’t help myself. I kissed the spot under his ear, licking away the beads of moisture.

  I could taste the salt of his sweat and desire on his skin.

  He leaned forward and started licking my neck, too, tracing his tongue from my earlobe to my collarbone.

  A shudder passed through me as I tried to keep it together, but a pang of desire pulsed in my low belly.

  “Fuck,” I whispered.<
br />
  And then, Victor rubbed his massive shaft along mine.

  The sensation was unreal.

  Was this what they told you in sex ed was mutual masturbation or whatever? Because I liked it.

  I liked it a lot.

  Electricity shot through me, riding on the silvery wings of pleasure and I moaned.

  I always thought that sex had to be either oral, anal, or vaginal.

  And I’d been taught that sex was the only thing I should really want, as a teenage boy.

  Did it make it so wrong that I wanted it—not sex, exactly, but whatever this was—with Victor only? Was it wrong to be curious like this, explore a little?

  He rubbed his shaft against mine a little more, pressing me against the wall.

  I dared to look down at his monstrous cock again.

  Jesus, it was like the thing belonged on a fucking horse.

  Suddenly, I was possessed by the urge to… to do things to it.

  I got on my knees.

  “You don’t have to—” Victor said.

  I looked up at him with a long, longing look and that shut him up.

  “I want to,” I said in.

  His mouth came open a little, then he closed it. He braced himself against the wall.

  What would a dick taste like? Honestly I’d been wondering that secretly for a while. I’d tasted pussy before, of course, and I didn’t mind it. But it wasn’t something I thought when I touched myself late at night.

  I’d been thinking about Victor’s cock late at night, though. I told myself that I was just curious about it; wondering how an appendage so huge could exist on a guy without him tipping over.

  When I was on my knees, it stared me in the face.

  I’d seen guys do this on porn, so I knew the basics.

  And of course, I had my own dick, so I knew what felt good and what didn’t.

  But why did I care if Victor felt good? I didn’t. He was just my lab rat.

  My experiment.

  I touched my tongue to his purple tip reluctantly, just to try it out.

  A soft moan escaped Victor’s lips.

  I liked that. I liked it a lot.

  I wanted to hear it again.

  So I swiveled my tongue around his tip.

  He cocked his head back and moaned again.

  Then I ran my tongue along his shaft, taking my time exploring.

  I knew we only had so much time until the locker room outside filled up with the basketball team, but that thought was nothing more than an abstract notion. Here in the shower, in this locked room, it felt like me and Victor were locked in a time machine, hanging in space.

  My brain offered up a comfortable thought:

  This didn’t count. None of this counted.

  No homo. I was just experimenting.

  And just like that, it felt okay. The last of my resistance fell away.

  I opened my mouth a little over his tip and took him inside.

  7

  Victor

  Oh my God, Jon Preston’s giving me head—!

  The thought was delirious. I didn’t know if I was in a dream or what. Shit, it felt like a dream.

  I watched my purple tip disappear into his mouth and he moved it around with his tongue.

  My tip bumped against his hard tooth.

  “Teeth,” I hissed, pulling back.

  He looked up at me cluelessly, inexperienced.

  “S-sorry,” he said.

  Then a look came over his face that made me sure he was asking for permission to try again.

  God, looking down and seeing the high-and-mighty Jon Preston on his knees, looking up at me like that, almost bowing before my massive cock…

  It was almost enough to make me come by itself.

  The look of desperation and submission in his eyes. The look of asking if what we were doing was okay. How all the questions in his eyes seemed to recede when he was on his knees…

  Maybe I got lost in the moment a little. I wrapped my hand around my massive shaft and said, “Suck it.”

  So he took me into his mouth again, though, a little reluctant this time.

  I smiled and let a breath escape through my mouth.

  “No teeth,” I said.

  This time, Jon was more careful.

  Sure, he was inexperienced at sucking dick. But his clumsiness only made it hotter. I wasn’t getting off on the act of the blowjob itself—I was getting off on the fact that I had Jon Preston on his knees. I could look down at his broad, sinewy shoulders, flecked with droplets of water. It turned me on so much watching his muscles and sinew flex beneath his skin like that.

  He only played with the tip—that was fine. I didn’t want him to be overwhelmed.

  But he swiveled his tongue around my opening, and pleasure coursed through me.

  “Mmh,” I moaned, leaning against the wall.

  Jon swiveled his tongue faster and faster.

  I moaned again.

  I knew practice would end soon—there’d be a zillion other guys in that room on the other side of the wall.

  That only made it hotter.

  His slippery tongue moved in tight circles.

  I looked down, expecting him to look up at me like all those guys in porn videos.

  But he didn’t. He was looking at my cock.

  Again, inexperienced—

  “I’m gonna come…” I warned him.

  He kept going. Didn’t he hear me?

  “I’m gonna come!” I said louder.

  Still, his tongue moved around in tight, slippery circles.

  I guess he was okay with it.

  All at once, I released. A balloon of pleasure inside me popped.

  “Oh! Oh! Oh my God!” I gasped.

  Victor gagged and choked, and took me out of his mouth, but it was too late.

  I was already coming.

  I seized my dick to try and control the aim, but it was out of control.

  My cock erupted from the tip, squirting my jizz all over Jon Preston’s face like a super soaker.

  He tried to turn away, and it got in his hair.

  I fucking loved the look of him, drenched in my cum.

  Shit, it looked like he’d dipped his forehead in Elmer’s Glue.

  I kept coming.

  I could have aimed it at the wall if I had the willpower. But a vengeful little demon had taken control of my dick like a little kid with a firehose.

  I painted Jon’s face.

  He groaned and tried to block the flow, but his efforts were futile.

  “Yeah…” I breathed, watching my come drip from his forehead into his thick blond eyebrow.

  In that moment, whatever happened between us, I knew that image would be seared in my memory forever.

  When I was finally done, I collapsed, leaning against the wall.

  Jon stood up, avoiding my eyes.

  A primal instinct inside me thought, “yes….”

  Somehow, I’d won something. Somehow, I’d dominated this pretty boy asshole jock.

  As Jon stepped into the flow of water, my eyes traveled to his perfect bubble butt. Ooh, he had that muscle dimple in the sides of his ass, too.

  Oh, how I longed to shove my massive cock between his ass cheeks…

  But I knew that could wait. One step at a time.

  And hell, I didn’t know if Jon would ever talk to me again after I just painted his face.

  He wasn’t looking at me now. That wasn’t a good sign.

  “You did… incredible,” I panted, testing the waters.

  He wiped his face in the stream of water, then lathered his hands with the soap. “Thanks. It was my first time… I didn’t really know what I was doing.” Then he turned his head to the side, and I could see his tawny eyes, bloodshot from choking on my cock.

  It filled me with a satisfying delight.

  “You did amazing for your first time,” I said, reaching out to touch his smooth, muscley back.

  He pulled away. “It didn’t mean anythin
g.”

  The tide of happiness inside me receded. “Sure.”

  Right. This was just an experiment.

  “I’m… don’t tell anyone about this,” he said.

  “You know I won’t.”

  “I need time to think,” Jon said.

  Even though we were only inches apart here in the shower, I knew he was miles away.

  He’d become the cardboard cutout again.

  “You don’t have to go through this alone,” I said.

  His eyebrow twitched. “What, just a quick hookup with a slut in the shower?”

  I scrunched up my face. “Where is this coming from? You sucked my—”

  “Get out!” he barked.

  I blinked at him.

  He advanced on me and pinned me against the wall, breathing hard.

  His hard, washboard abs were soaped up, so they slid across mine.

  My cock twitched at the sensation.

  Jon’s eyes bored into me. “I said. Get. Out.”

  A beat of silence passed. Another beat.

  A standoff.

  “Fine,” I said, stepping out of the shower.

  His nostrils flared. “Don’t you fucking dare tell anyone about this. Or I’ll—I’ll—”

  “Shut up,” I said with venom. “I’ve had enough of your closeted bullshit. I won’t tell anyone—you can count on me for that. But this is the last time I’m dealing with your pent-up straight boy stunted emotions. No more.”

  “Fucking fine, just leave!” he roared.

  “You don’t have to tell me twice,” I spat.

  Then I took the lone, fluffy towel hanging on the rack nearby, gave myself a quick pat-down, and left the steamy shower room with it.

  It filled me with petty satisfaction knowing that there was no towel in there for him. He’d have to come out of there wet and cold, and wounded.

  I’d already given him a bandaid all those weeks ago to stop his bleeding.

  But a bandaid for his ego? That was something he’d have to figure out himself.

  Over the next few days, Jon ignored me again.

  I often wondered what Jon was going through. But I didn’t have to wonder too hard—I knew something of what he might be going through. I’d been through it myself.

  But coming to terms with the fact that I was gay was an easy transition for me. No one was ever surprised when they learned that about me. And, I didn’t have scholarships to worry about. I’d already been admitted to college—a private music school, and my financial aid was taken care of. My path going forward wasn’t completely clear—I didn’t know my major or anything—but at least it wasn’t completely cloudy anymore.