Part I - Jocks Can Be Frustrated Too

As I was wrestling with myself, a dark form silently entered my room and closed the door, jerking me out of my trance. "That you Mitchell?" I asked calmly.

"Yeah." Mitch moved closer, and I reached over and flipped on the bedside lamp. He stood over my bed, open robe draped around his shoulders, t-shirt and black boxers underneath. His ruffled hair said he'd been in bed, but there wasn't a trace of sleep in his eyes. "What is it?"

"I couldn't sleep." He moved to the reading chair by the bed and sat, looking at me. "Have you ever done anything like that before?"

"No," I answered. "You?"

"Once," he said. "A friend of mine and I were experimenting and jacked each other off, back before our parents met." He paused. "But that's over eight years ago. I didn't think it meant anything." His brow lowered, his eyes troubled. "I liked it, Trevor. I really liked it. I don't know what that means."

We sat in silence for a while. Finally, I said, "It doesn't mean anything, Mitch. We were horny. We were desperate." I paused, "In any case, we've been so close for so long, I think it may have just been a matter of time." That didn't quite fit in my mind, but it was the best thing I could come up with.

Mitchell nodded and went silent. I lay back on the bed, my arms behind my head. He broke the silence after a few moments. "You know what scares me the most?" he almost whispered. I looked over at him. He hesitated, then looked straight into my eyes, his brown, dark, boyish visage suddenly superlatively vulnerable. "I want more," he said softly. "No, I want you."

That same nauseous feeling waved over me again. God, what now? If we moved on this, it might change everything, forever....

"I can't get the taste out of my mouth. I want more." I stared straight at the ceiling, flabbergasted. I had no idea what to say. "If you aren't cool with all this, all you gotta do is give me the word," he said. But I couldn't bring myself to say anything. Finally, I heard a rustle as Mitch stood and shed his robe. He moved to the foot of the bed, and knelt on it, straddling my shins. I looked down at him, our eyes meeting. He waited, giving me a chance to recant, to stop everything. Finally, I closed my eyes and lay back. I felt his weight shift as he leaned down, his hands looping into my sweat tops, pulling them and my briefs slowly down, exposing my still-floppy dick, and slowly dragging them down and past my ankles and off my feet. He slid back up my legs and took my semi-hard cock into his mouth, just sucking it like a lollipop.

I smiled at the pleasant sensations as his fingers started caressing my balls. He was already better at this, already more skilled than before. I heard his breathing become more ragged through his nose. My cock quickly hardened to solid rock in his mouth, and he slowly moved his lips up and down on it.

The next twenty minutes passed in rapture. Mitch lay between my legs, playing with and worshipping my throbbing cock. He would suck on my scrotum and testicles, lick up and down my cock, suck like a nursing baby, bob up and down like a buoy, and occasionally plunge deep and massage my entire penis with his tongue and throat. He experimented, seeing what he could do, and what got the best response from me. His hands explored up onto my stomach and chest, and around to my back and my ass, squeezing the cheeks, caressing my skin.

Suddenly, his careful attention sparked that familiar flame deep inside me. As my breathing hardened, he sensed I was close and concentrated all his attention on my cock head, sliding his boyish lips up and down, sucking hard. "Oh god..." I breathed, "I'm gonna shoot man..."

Suddenly he became ravenous, punishing my cock. My body tensed, and I ejaculated directly into his mouth. As the heavenly feeling washed over me, I groaned softly, my abdomen flexing under Mitchell's sweaty hands.

Slowly, the fire of the orgasm declined, and Mitch gently milked the last dregs of semen from my glans into his mouth. Finally, he looked up at me and grinned, obviously slushing my cum in his mouth, relishing the taste. The sight made me laugh. "Dude, that's fucking nasty."

That made him grin all the wider, and he finally swallowed. Without a word, he slid up even with me, straddling my right leg, and supported himself with his elbows on either side of my torso. I felt his hard cock press against my leg. He locked his eyes onto mine, and for an interminable moment, the world disappeared. My chest constricted, I couldn't look away from the endless well of his deep brown eyes. Slowly, he moved his face closer, and we kissed, natural in the moment. I felt his tongue in my mouth, and I tentatively explored his. I tasted something salty in the areas around his teeth and under his tongue. My breath exploded as I realized it was the remnants of my own semen. Oh, god, this was the best kiss of my life, hotter than any girl, sensuous in its manliness.

As we broke the kiss, I became aware that he was slowly grinding against my leg. His cock rubbed against my thigh through the black silk of his boxers, and he closed his eyes and tilted his head back.

Keenly I watched his face in the profile of the lamplight. I watched with fascination the rapture that shone there, how his eyelids pressed together, how his tongue darted between his fine lips as he gradually increased the intensity with which he was humping my thigh, the way his breathing varied. The feeling shifted as the top half of his cock poked out past his waistband. He changed between short thrusts forward and back and circling slowly with his pelvis. I moved my hands and groped his flexing arms and shoulders and back.

Suddenly, his face contorted, and he lifted his body onto his arms, grinding hard against me. I felt his sticky, hot semen begin to pool and smear on the top of my leg, and Mitchell grunted once in satisfaction.

As he slowed and stopped, he looked down at me and smiled once more. He rolled off and positioned himself over my leg. I saw him hungrily eye the cum that had begun dribbling down the inside of my leg. "Wait," I said spontaneously, smiling. "Share some with me." He smiled wider as his tongue slowly rolled up the beads of jizz, cleaning every drop thoroughly from my skin. Finally, he moved back up my body and kissed me, swishing his cum into my mouth. It was an odd taste, I thought. Acquired. But something in me liked it.

We both licked our lips as we broke the kiss. He rolled over and lay on his back at my side. We listened to nothing for several minutes. I thought that Mitchell had dozed off. Suddenly, he cleared his throat. "Does this make us gay?" he asked me.

I thought for a moment. "No," I said after a while. "We can decide that later." I turned to my side, facing him. "For now, let's just do what feels good." That answer felt right.

"Cool," he said. "But we've gotta keep this shit from getting to our heads. It's just sex, right? Just physical?"

"Right," I agreed. "Just sex."

"Alright." He punched me in the chest, as we often did to show our affection, and got up, adjusting his shorts and replacing his robe over his shoulders. He turned and softly opened the door and crept down the hallway. I was thirsty. I remembered some water in the bottle in my backpack. I drank a couple of gulps, knowing that any more would cause a late-night trip to the bathroom.

I felt good. My question had been answered. This last experience with my stepbrother clarified it to me. It felt different, having sex with him. It really was just physical, a release. With a girl, there was an emotional connection; it was deeply satisfying to make love to a good woman. It energized me, recharged me emotionally. Sex with Mitchell wasn't a substitute for that. It simply felt good.

There's room for both in my life, I decided, as I turned off the light and crawled under the warm covers.