If I don't lose my virginity soon, I think I'm going to lose my mind.
Graduation is just around the corner, and I'm the only one of my friends who hasn't punched his V-card! It's not for lack of trying, of course. I bat my eyes at the cute boys at school and flirt with strange men on the Internet all the time, but for whatever reason, I've yet to seal the deal for real. The closest I got was with my first real boyfriend, this hot guy named Kevin. But then my dad had to swoop in and fuck him instead!
It's so frustrating. Everyone says my dad's hot, and manly, and his dick is pretty big, but don't I deserve love? I like to think so. In any event, I've learned my lesson--don't let guys anywhere near my father. I never know what he's going to do! He claimed he fucked Kevin to try and help me, but I don't know if I buy all that. It's not like I need my first time to be anything special. I just want a dick in my ass, for crying out loud!
That brings me to my current mark, uh, I mean, guy. His name is Brock, and he's so fucking gorgeous. He's the quarterback of the football team, a real meathead with a thick neck and a head full of rocks. Just my type! He's never been particularly nice to me--in fact, he actively bullied me all through junior high. But ever since I came out last year he's been okay to me, and the last few weeks he's been downright nice!
Whereas he used to bump into me in the hallway and leave me with a bruised shoulder, pretty soon he started just ignoring me, which I counted as a major win. But last month, everything changed. I was walking to AP Chem when I passed him in the hallway. He was wearing his football jersey, his long blonde hair all sweaty from P.E. (it was the only class he wasn't currently failing). I was ogling him out of the corner of my eye--secretly picturing whether he was cut or uncut like I always do--when suddenly he turned and nodded at me!
Let's just say, for him, that was a lot. I turned to my closest girlfriend, a short, chubby little girl named Gibby, and squealed.
"Did you see that?"
"He's in love with you," she agreed, her eyes wide and desperate.
The next day, on my way to lunch, he did it again. But this time, he even smiled at me, too! I started to cherish these little moments of attention. I normally dressed relatively slutty (I had a virginity to lose, after all) but I started dressing even more outrageously. Thin tank tops that showed off my slender arms and smooth, pale skin. Ass-hugging shorts that were at least a size too small in order to show off my greatest asset. And cute, beach-ready little flip-flops so I could show off my pedicured feet and painted toenails. I was downright fuckable, and Brock definitely seemed to notice.
I was heading to my locker one afternoon after school when Brock grabbed me by the shirt and pulled me into an empty classroom.
"You're looking pretty faggy, Leo," he said, his voice low and stupid.
"Oh, am I?" I asked, batting my eyes.
"You really like showing off, don't you?" He eyed my bare legs, which I'd spent an hour before school putting lotion on.
"I don't know what you're talking about, Brock," I said innocently. "I just like to dress comfortable."
"I heard faggy guys like you like to suck cock," he said matter-of-factly. He grabbed my tank top and pulled me in closer, exposing my right nipple. He looked down at it and smirked. "So do you?"
I smiled sweetly. "Well, if you ask nice."
He pulled the string of his joggers to undo his pants. The head of his dick poked through the light grey material, eager to be released into my mouth. I got down on my knees and grasped the waistband of his joggers, pulling them slowly down.
A patch of neatly trimmed, dirty blonde pubic hair peeked out from underneath his compression shorts. His cock was thick and long, and it seemed to go on forever as he pulled his underwear down. Finally, the head of his dick came swinging upward, freed from the confines of its cotton prison. I salivated at the sight of it--cut, meaty, lightly curved at the end.
"Put your mouth on it," he said, his voice husky.
I needed no further instruction. I stuck my tongue out, lightly grazing the underside of his cockhead. The bitter, salty taste of his precum was like nectar on my tongue. He let out a low groan, gripping my curly brown hair with his thick fingers. I opened my mouth and took him inside, reveling in the taste of my very first cock.
Fuck, blowing my dildo at home did not do this justice. His cock was warm and pulsing with life, oozing its stickiness into my hungry mouth. I took him deeper inside me, determined to show him that gay guys really were good cocksuckers. His fingers gently squeezed my curls as he slowly started humping into my mouth.
I was blowing him about halfway by now, his cock sliding past my tongue and hitting the back of my throat at a regular rhythm. I tried to ignore my gag reflex, focusing instead on bringing the most amount of pleasure to the football stud in front of me. I grabbed his meaty thighs, holding onto him to steady myself as I tried to relax my throat. The feeling of his muscular, hairy legs made me leak, and at the same time, allowed me to open my throat enough to take him even deeper.
"Fuck, you're such a good cocksucker," he moaned. "Suck my dick, faggot."
He was now almost balls-deep inside my throat. I looked up at him, his pubic hair crowding my line of sight with every thrust. He wasn't looking at me, naturally (probably imagining some blonde bimbo like Haiyleigh from AP Bio) but that didn't really concern me. I was just happy to be of service! I'd barely had so much as a kiss, let alone a dick to suck and slurp and go to town on. If I played my cards right, I might even get him to pork me before he went off to UF on that football scholarship.
He was facefucking me now, his hands gripping the sides of my head as he threw his head back and groaned. I kept my eyes open and my throat relaxed, marveling at how dumb and sexy he looked. He was grinning like an idiot, the right half of his upper lip curled in a smile as he threw back his head and gave into pleasure. Guys like Brock would never cure cancer, but damn did they know how to empty their nuts. Lucky for him I was programmed to receive.
I watched a wave of emotion go over his face as his breathing grew short and ragged. He squinted his eyes in a look of intense concentration like he was trying to remember the square root of four. Then his face went slack and his jaw dropped open as he let out a short gasp.
"Oh, fuck," he said.
His cock pulsed against my tongue. A boy was cumming in my mouth, finally! I felt glamorous and classy, like Princess Diana. The warm, bitter liquid splashed against the back of my throat, burning slightly as it went down my esophagus. I swallowed as fast as I could, eager to impress him with my commitment to service. His cock twitched with every shot of cum, eliciting short little moans and whimpers from him as a satisfied smile crept across his face.
I did that. I made him smile with my superior cocksucking skills and soft, silky mouth. Take that, Dad!
He pulled his cock out of my mouth, wet and already at half-mast. He sniffed, itching his nose as he tucked his cock back in his joggers. There was a loud SMACK as the fabric of his waistband slapped across his belly.
"That was dope," he said in what I thought was a bit of an understatement.
I wiped a little bit of semen off my lips and nodded bashfully. "Anytime, Brock."
Well, he sure did take that to heart. Barely two days went by after that without Brock pulling me into some empty classroom or janitor's closet for a quick blowie. Most of the time he just shoved me to my knees and let his dick flop out onto my face, although sometimes he let me reach in and pull it out myself. I loved the feeling of his cock in my hand, the first real-live dick I'd ever touched besides my own. I made it my mission to learn what he liked--no talking, extra suction on the head, a quick tug on his balls when he was about to cum. Sometimes he would even flex for me while I blew him, which really got me hot. Staring up at his hot, sculpted muscles and the stupid smile on his face was almost enough to make me squirt hands-free.
He even convinced me to join the football team as a waterboy, "just to have that pretty mouth nearby" (blush). I didn't know the first thing about football, but luckily all I had to do was mix Gatorade powder into a jug and hand out cups to sweaty jocks during practice. I could practically smell the testosterone and don't even get me STARTED about the locker room. It was like every gay boy's dream: bare asses, swingin' dicks, and uninhibited masculinity, all with a healthy undertone of homophobia. Then, once the rest of the guys headed home after practice, Brock would meet me in the showers, his muscles swollen and cock begging for relief. It was like I had died and gone to gay heaven.
But no matter how much I tried to move the conversation toward him putting that big, beautiful dick in my pretty little pussy, things never went beyond oral. Brock made it clear that he had no interest in blowing me, which was fine. I mean, a little ass-eating would have been appreciated, but I can respect some guys aren't into that. But what was driving me crazy was him not wanting to fuck me! Oral sex was nice and all, but in the gay world, it was essentially a handshake. I needed a dick in my ass if I wanted to properly obliterate my virginity. (I guess I could also top somebody, but I had little to no interest in that--I know what I was put on this earth to do, and it was not to hammer away at some twink like I'm Woody Woodpecker).
The first time I tried to bring up anal, he seemed totally lost.
