Sleeptalking Pt 02 Broken Promise

The events have been significantly altered to protect the identities of those involved and to save the reader from rubbing blisters into their privates as they try and stay horny through -- what could have been -- a 400-page novel.

If you are here for the 'action' I promise you, we get there in this chapter. That said, if you find yourself fascinated by the story/characters and want to enjoy this series as a whole, I urge you read Chapter 1 if you have not already.

Anyway, this is my first so please be gentle! That said, I would love to hear honest and constructive feedback.

Enjoy!

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

I must have looked like a deer staring at headlights because Cory immediately added, "Oh. I mean, if you don't want to drink, we don't HAVE to drink." as he hurriedly put the clear-glass liquor bottle back into the mini-fridge.

God damn it. I was such a child. I had never drunk alcohol before but that did not mean I had to be a prude about it. Cory, my roommate and fellow freshman at the university, had been nothing if not nice to me today. He had helped me carry stuff up six stories to our room, introduced me to some really cool people earlier at dinner, and had been a shoulder for me to cry on when I was struck by an intense shot of homesickness. He was not one of those charlatans who were put on probation back in high school: he was a nice, sensible guy.

Quickly regaining my composure, I said, "No please go ahead. Just don't get caught."

Cory's sigh was audible. "Man! I thought you were going to report me for a second!" He pulled out the bottle. "You sure you don't want some? It's on me today, if you're interested."

Damn it. I was interested.

I would be lying if I had not been looking forward to 'growing up' and drinking with Dad or my friends. More importantly, I trusted Cory. Something about him made me feel like he would be a good person to experience alcohol with for the first time.

"I am interested. I've just never had alcohol before." I guess truth is the better part of confidence.

"Oh." Cory seemed quite surprised, but almost immediately broke a cheeky grin. "Well then. Drink slow, but have as much as you want. It's best to test your tolerance indoors." He unscrewed the lid and brought the bottle to his lips. I saw two solid gulps travel down his neck.

He walked over to where I was sitting on the floor, my back resting against the wall. I had just gotten done unpacking my stuff and did not want to get my bed sweaty while I cooled off.

"Here." He offered me the clear bottle. I wiped my hands on the carpet and held the cool bottle tenderly with both hands. The glass was slippery with condensation. My heart was pounding.

Cory smiled warmly, "Be careful: Vodka is not how I would have chosen to start you off, but hey! It's college and you're going to learn sooner or later! Maybe take a small-"

His advice came too late. I was already coughing up the paint-thinner he had handed me. My throat was a mixture of cold and burning- hot and I felt the fumes make their way into my lungs. Almost immediately, I felt warm.

"Woah! Woah! Easy there Luke!" Cory picked the bottle back out of my hands. He kneeled next to me and patted my back. "You doing okay there?" I could hear him trying not to laugh.

I narrowed my eyes (my teary, burning eyes) and smiled at him. "That is awful! I don't understand how people enjoy that!"

"Give it a minute. You must have inhaled some, which is never fun." He gently rubbed his hand up and down my spine. The friction imparted a soothing warmth that slowly melted away the pain in my throat. "Once the burning goes away, you'll see." Cory reassured me.

I was beginning to see.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

In the following hours, we went into excruciating depth about each other's lives before college. I told him that I had grown up in a small conservative town, and was proud of the strong family values I had been taught. I told him about my time as goalkeeper on the soccer team and about some of the shenanigans the boys and I got up to when we won a game ("and then we'd sneak up behind the cows and yell super loud!"). I told him about how my father was a retired underwater welder who now volunteered with the local parish. I told him about how some of my friends and I ventured into the woods when we were young to explore and, when we grew older, to hang out. I told him about how, one day, one of those friends kissed me and told me she loved me with all her soul, and about how much I missed Ally, even though I had just spoken to her over the phone earlier in the evening.

But things did not get interesting until an hour (or was it three? I lost track of the hours. And the drinks.) later when Cory started telling me about his life. Cory was born and raised in the big city, just a few hours from here. He had top grades in his class and had qualified for the same scholarship as me. He loved his parents, who loved him too, and he had been on the lacrosse team BUT MORE IMPORTANTLY, he had lived a very... active life.

Sex-life. Cory had had sex with a TON of girls. "Sex" had been a taboo word for most of my life but BY GOD was alcohol liberating!

I vowed to make vodka the unofficial mascot of my life! Cory thought that was a terrific idea.

Anyway...

"What do you mean 'from behind'?" I was a mixture of grossed out and excited, "Like, you put it up her butt?!"

"Hah! If only! No, I put it in her from behind." Cory was slurring his words. "Like, if you want to imagine it, Jenna was sort of lying down on her side..."

I WAS imagining it.

I think I learned more about sex in that conversation with Cory than I had in all my preceding experiences. Cory was not only experienced he was a GREAT narrator.

"... Fortunately, I am big enough that I can do that. It can be problematic if you aren't." Cory was DEFINITELY slurring his words now.

Did he say "big enough?"

I panicked. "Wait, what do you mean 'big enough'?" Up until that point I had never even considered that different men might be differently endowed. The fear of inadequacy crept into me: what if, once we were married, I was not man enough for Ally?

Cory seemed to sense my fear. "Oh. Well, size more-like limits the kinds of things you can try, not the amount of fun you can have. It's kind of like, the size of the field limits the type of tactics you can play in soccer, but not the amount of fun you can have."

My mind was put at ease. But then another question came up. "So how big do you need to be to be able to try... the more tactical stuff."

It took me a minute longer than it took Cory to find what I had just said funny.

"You can do most things if you're 7 inches long, I think." From his tone it was clear he was making a bit of a show about not knowing what being 7 inches long felt like. "But if you're 9 inches long you're probably in the clear."

I was, to put it mildly, upset. I had never measured myself before, but I did not think I was 7 inches long. "Are most people 7 inches long?"

Cory responded a little too quickly, "Oh no. Most of my friends were five to six inches. I'd say that is about average."

That was a relief. Nothing comforts the ego like- Wait a second. I turned to Cory. "How do you know how... uh... long... your friends are?"

There was a moment where Cory looked at me like he was trying to read my face. "I'm not going to lie to you." He put a hand on my back and leaned towards me, as if we was going to whisper into my ear. "I've compared sizes with my friends. And, if I might brag for a bit: I was always longer." He patted my back as he chuckled and leaned away.

I felt that weird feeling in my stomach again.

Looking around the room, I noticed the clock. It was THAT LATE?!

"Hey Cory, think we can pause for a bit? I really should go shower."

"Sure thing Luke. I'm probably going to turn in now, so I'll see you tomorrow!"

"Good to know. I won't turn the main lights on when I come back." I urgently opened the door. The buzz and the discussion had made it so I needed some alone time in the shower.

"Don't worry about it." I paused to listen respectfully. "My mother used to say I could sleep through a hurricane!" I gave him a polite but short chuckle and walked as swiftly down the corridor as I could without drunkenly hitting one of the walls.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Oh GOD yes.

I was so hard. All six inches of me (As a boy scout, I had learned how to measure inches using the ridges in my fingers) were solid as stone.

I panted quietly. The warm shower was running down my neck and stomach. The rushing water drowned out the sound of my movements. There probably was no one to hide from, but my fear of getting discovered was only barely defeated by my need for release.

In my mind I saw two boys in a bathroom similar to this one. They were comparing sizes.

One of them was smaller, six inches: he did not matter. He was fun but limited in the tactics he could implement.

The other was nine inches long. Pale with a soft blush on his cheeks. His hair was black and long and straight and his eyes were a deep brown. He was built for speed and dexterity, lithe yet strong, like any self-respecting lacrosse player would be. He stank of sex. Sex and cologne.

Oh God, I was close.

I had not touched myself so desperately since the day Ally had let me see her breasts.

Ally...

Everything came to a screeching halt.

What was I doing? I was committed to a beautiful, loving woman. How could I think of someone else when I touched myself? Was I cheating on Ally?

No. This was the alcohol. This was not me.

Besides, it was just a fantasy. I would never actually...

I focused on getting myself dried.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

I tried not to look. But the first thing I saw, was his chest, pale and hairless in the corridor light. It was so smooth. He snored peacefully.

I left the door open as I walked across the room and turned on my desk lamp before I closed the door. In the dark, I opened my cupboard, put my soiled clothes in the laundry box and put on a fresh pair of boxers, all the while facing away from Cory's bed. It was too warm for shorts, so I skipped them.

I was about to turn off the light. *click* darkness. Blankets. Bed. It could have been that simple.

As my hand reached for the lamp switch, I noticed a glint in the corner of my eye. It was the bottle of vodka. Cory was still holding it. I walked up to his bed, wanting to protect the precious liquid from spillage. It took a bit of searching but I managed to locate the lid, which had almost buried itself under his pillow.

I reached for the open bottle, which was wedged between his spread legs (probably the only reason he had not spilled it all), and found, to my dismay, that his hand was wrapped pretty tightly around its neck. As I held onto it with my right hand I tried to loosen his grip, slowly, with my left. I pried a finger, two fingers, three, all the while relishing the delicious touch of his smooth skin. He sighed extravagantly, finally relinquishing the bottle, as I realized, that he was relishing my touch as well.

Unfastening his grip must have jiggled the bottle a lot more than I realized, because the mound between his legs had clearly grown longer. Significantly longer.

I had the bottle free of his grip and the cap in my other hand. I just needed to put it back in the fridge and go to sleep. That was all I needed.

But I *wanted* so much more.

Before I had the chance to think, I had picked up the bottle and slid its base so it rubbed against his length. When I heard Cory gasp pleasantly, I new there was no going back.

Gripping the bottle with both hands to try and stop my trembling from waking him, I started to slowly stroke Cory with the base of the bottle. It was not long before Cory's breaths started to become throatier.

He was asleep. This was not sex. Tomorrow, it would be as if I had just fantasized all of this.

I could feel myself leaving a faint wetness on my underwear. I was so hard.

Cory was harder. He was big.

I NEEDED to know how big he was.

I put the bottle in the fridge and walked back to his bedside. The bed was lofted to fit a set of drawers underneath it, so that his head was level with my hips. I sat on his bedside and leaned over, placing my hands on his waist. When he did not respond, I started to graze my hands up and down his hips. He felt so smooth. His skin was soft but sat on firm, lithe muscle.

He did not seem to budge.

Needing more, but still hungry, I hooked my fingers into his shorts and underwear.

Except, he was not wearing underwear. I let out an audible shiver, although Cory did not seem to care.

With my fingers, I gently lifted his shorts away from his hips, and down until I saw his glistening tip emerge from underneath his waistband. Slowly, I saw the unkempt hair on his abdomen get thicker, but it felt like a long time before I finally found his base, then his sack and then was clear of him.

I let his shorts sit around his thighs and let my hands hungrily slide up to the prize that was standing up in all its glory.

I wanted to measure it.

But what if it was not as hard as it could get? That would not do. It needed to be as hard as it could get.

Knowing from personal experience how sensitive a circumcised head can be, I let some saliva collect in my mouth and dribbled it onto my right hand, closing and rubbing my fist to spread it out.

My right hand stretched out to meet his head. With my index finger, I traced the line of his slit.

"MMMMMmmmmmm." Cory hummed to softly. Urged on by the moan, I grabber his shaft and started to jerk him off.

He started to breathe in time with my motions. I started to breathe in time with his breaths. Nothing but his chest moved but, with only the light from my desk lamp, it was easy to imagine that he was looking at me through half-open eyes, grinning sexily at me.

Of its own accord, my left hand glid across his stomach and relished its smoothness. And firmness. As I pressed down with my fingers, I met an incredible resistance over his abdomen. The contours of his abs were not visible, but I sensed the ridges with my fingers. I felt a strong twitch between my legs.

It was getting really uncomfortable between my legs. I tried to take off my underwear with just my left hand but my shaft was caught painfully in my waistband. I reluctantly let go of his beautiful member and...

"Dooooon't sssstop."

I froze. I felt dread run down my spine. I had had thought Cory was asleep.

"W-What did-d you say-y Cory?" I was shivering slowly and painfully, half from fear and half from lust.

"Dooooon't stop. So gooood." He was slurring his words like the homeless people by the park at night.

In an instant, the fantasy was gone. I had cheated on Ally. Everything was ruined... All that was left was...

Trepiditiously, I reached for his member. I was terrified. This was no longer something I would enjoy and he would not remember. He wanted this. I wanted this. This was... gay. I was doing something gay.

And I could not stop myself.

I must have grabbed his shaft harder than I wanted, because his hands immediately grabbed mine and stopped it. "Toooooo dryyyyy.", he mumbled, as he brought my hand to his face and started licking my palm.

And that was when I felt my muscles stiffen. Just as Cory put my fingers in his mouth and started sucking them, I came into my underwear, panting exquisitely with each release.

Cory took my hand out of his mouth and wrapped my fingers around his penis. It felt hard and rubbery in my hands. It felt warm, pleasantly warm.

I was no longer aroused. I was thinking clearly. But I could not stop.

With my right hand I started stroking Cory again, keeping a diligent eye on him, noting every twitch and pulse of his skin.

I must have been good, because it was not long before he grunted "I'm cummiiiiiiiing..." as I moved my left hand into position to measure his length. A clean ten inches.

"I'm cuuuuuuuuumming Jeeeeeeenna!"

I stopped stroking him abruptly. Jenna. He called me Jenna.

How drunk was he?

I held him tightly as his semen oozed out onto my hand. Apparently, his did not shoot out like mine did. At least, in that aspect, mine was stronger. I unwrapped my fingers before his semen dripped onto him and walked over to my laundry box to wiped my hand on my soiled clothes, throwing in my semen-stained underwear with the rest.

If he did not remember this night... There was hope...

I walked back to Cory's bedside, where he lay with his softening penis, its tip slightly damp from our recent exercise, and his shorts around his knees. With a hand, I nervously brushed his cheek with my right hand.

"Hey there Cory" I did my best 'Jenna impression'. "Say my name again."

He nuzzled my hand with his face. I felt a soft pang in my stomach.

He grabbed my arm with both his hands and started licking my fingers. "MMMMmmmmm... Thank you Jen. You beautiful little fox."

His tongue felt good.

With my left hand, I ruffled his hair slowly. "Pick up your shorts Cory. And go to sleep."

"MMMMMmmmm." With some of my fingers still in his mouth, he arched his hips and pulled his shorts up. I watched his manhood disappear under his waistband.

"Good. Now go to sleep." I stood up to move away but his hands still gripped my arm firmly.

I turned around, horrified. "Cory-"

"Kiss mmmme goodniiiiight."

I half-stood, half-sat on the bed. His grip was firm.

I had to kiss him. I did not have a choice. It was not wrong because I was doing it out of necessity. If I did not kiss him, he would not let me leave and then everything could be ruined.

My heart was pounding. My stomach hurt.

Almost like when I first kissed Ally.

I noticed the fullness of his lips. How they were slightly parted. And then he started snoring again, softly like the sound of leaves rustling in a brisk wind.

His grip loosened on my arm...

I did not have to kiss him anymore...

His lips were right there, full and soft and gently parted.