Author's Note -
The voices in my head are still sexually harassing me. ~Dayne
Chapter Two – On Finger-Banging Cheerleaders
I'm not completely sure why we're tabling for yet another week during the summer session. But, Kiley thinks she can keep the GSA active even though most of our members went home for the summer, and somehow I'm roped into this. I honestly doubt we'll get any new members since so few students start here in the summer – anyone who wanted to join would have done so already. I'm seriously about to pack up here and lovingly tell that dyke Kiley that she can go fuck herself.
"Oh, cool, there's a gay-straight alliance here!" The voice is a soft baritone with a slight Texas drawl. When I look up, I find its owner to be the mass accumulation of every brotastic dumb jock that made fun of me for being gay and/or being a cheerleader in high school. Tall, broad shouldered, so muscled up that it makes his t-shirt and cargo shorts fit snuggly in the most eye-pleasing ways. Overall, an amazing body and the face is just as nice. His sandy blonde hair is cut short on the sides with a longer tousled fringe on top that he keeps brushed to one side, under are dark blue eyes, a small mouth with perfectly bowed lips and dimpled cheeks.
His hand is out-stretched and his smile at least seems genuine. I figure Kiley will kick my ass if I don't greet everyone properly, even if he does turn out to be a homophobe, so I might as well talk. "Name's Cory," he tells me.
"Preston," I reply and seem at a loss, so I hand him a pamphlet.
"So," he says after an awkward pause. "When do you guys meet?"
I consider giving him wrong information, but it's printed on the pamphlet anyway. "Mondays at 7:00 PM."
"Will you be there?" he asks warmly.
"I'm the secretary; of course, I'll be..." I trail off as it occurs to me. Is this guy really..? You can't be serious. I look back at him, his expression, the way he holds his body. "Wait, are you hitting on me?"
***
Preston and I fall through the door. We fumble with zippers and buttons, our tongues buried in each other's mouth, all heavy breathing and roaming hands. We manage to pull off our shirts before we trip onto his bed, and he seems satisfied enough with this state to return to making out with me. I lie half on top of him, my leg pressed between his. He rolls his hips to rub his hard-on against my thigh. I grab his leg and guide it around my waist. He pants into my mouth as I rub myself against the leg I have trapped under me.
"We should finish stripping," I tell him. "Or I'm going to cum in my pants."
"Been that long?"
"Fuck. You have no idea." He laughs at that. I'd like to say that I sealed the deal on him the day I met him – a classic twink looking cute as fuck in chino shorts, button up shirt, and bowtie with his short brown hair spiked up – but we became more like friends. Since he was the person who introduced me to the group, I naturally gravitated to him, but he's a pretty nice guy and easy to talk to. I never thought I would end up befriending one of those sassy gay types.
The only reason we're here ripping off clothes and humping each other's leg is because someone gave us a few beers and we have stupidly low alcohol tolerances (For fucking real, how can three beers be enough to get a guy my size buzzed?). He started giggling about wanting to fuck a football player and I started giggling about wanting to fuck a cheerleader that had a dick. And he's all like "Wait, you're a football player!" And I was like "Dude, you're a cheerleader AND you have a dick!"
Then we got bummed because we're both bottoms.