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Mr. Spectacular was one of the low points of my missions thus far. Yeah it was great having somebody else take the initiative to come to me, but it was horrifying how it literally lasted eight seconds. His lips were so plump and so tender…I can still vaguely feel them wrapped around my cock.
Although I digress, the thought of Paul needs to be taken out of my mind. Regardless of the length of time we hooked up, it happened. I need to move on to someone else. However, I can’t get Shawn out of my mind. The way he looked at me in band, it’s burned into my mind. I can see his green eyes looking longingly in my soul. I want something more. Deep down, however, I know it’s not part of the plan. I can’t start falling for Shawn. It will just end up exactly like it did with Rick.
I can’t have that happen again.
I rolled out of bed around 10 this morning. Sunday’s were always so boring. I didn’t have a job, didn’t have homework, and didn’t really have a lot of friends that didn’t have jobs. So mostly I just sat around the house, watching television and making awkward conversation with my parents. I slowly descended downstairs to the kitchen to get something to eat.
My house was weird. It had the first floor, where the kitchen, dining room and den resided, and it had the second floor, where all the bedrooms where. The thing that was weird about it was the “sub-floor” we had, right in between the first and second floor, where we had more of a formal living room. It wasn’t a floor of it’s own, though, my parents always told me. I hated that room more than anything. It all goes back to the summer of tenth grade.
It was a hot august night in the year 2010. I had my summer job as a camp counselor at the day camp two blocks down from me. It was a good job to start on, but I swore I would never work there, or as a camp counselor again after that summer. I also decided I would never have kids. But that’s a completely different story. My parents decided that was the summer they wanted to go on a cruise. Being the indifferent parents they are, they decided not to tell me about it in advance. So I couldn’t get off from work with enough notice.
I wasn’t too distraught over this though. Sure, going on a tropical cruise Travesti would’ve been fun, but I had the whole house to myself for eight days! Being the delinquent child I was back in tenth grade, of course I was going to have parties nearly every night. So one on exceptionally hot Friday night, I threw a giant party. It got a little too out of hand though. Thinking back on it now, all of the guys that I’ve gotten with thus far were actually there, not that I spoke to any of them at the time. You all know how high school is, someone hears about a party and suddenly the whole school knows. Literally the whole school.
I really don’t know how the cops weren’t called. It was out of control. I also don’t know how my parents never found out about it, despite one of their antique vases being shattered into a million pieces. Luck must have been on my side. Especially since that was the first night I ever hooked up with Rick. Around 1:00, most of the people had left, except for a few random people left making out, and a few close friends that clearly did not want to help clean up, but didn’t want to seem rude.
“It’s fine, you guys don’t have to stay. I’ll just clean up in the morning,” I said as I watched them all quickly scurry away, along with the remaining love-struck teenagers. All that remained was Rick and I. “That goes for you too, you don’t have to clean if you don’t want to”.
“I don’t want to clean,” he said bluntly. I could smell the whiskey a mile away. This was the very first time I saw Rick drunk. Sure, I had gotten a few nasty text messages from him every once in a while, but never face-to-face drunk.
“Well, I guess it’s a good thing you don’t have to clean,” I awkwardly said as I turned away from him. At this point, I really did not have any kind of game. I was 16, what else did I know.
The rest of the night turned into a blur. Rick tried convincing me that nothing happened, but I know something did happen. There is no way I could have imagined us having relations. As time went on, we did have relations, which he did remember. That is also, however, another story.
My trip down memory lane was abruptly stopped when my dad came barreling into the kitchen.
“Nice to see you up before noon,” he İstanbul Travesti muttered under his breath as he poured himself a cup of coffee. My dad never really seemed to lighten up on the whole “only son and child being gay” thing. Ever since I told him, things have been very different between us. It’s sad. I ignored his comment and went up to my room, and closed the door behind me. I didn’t want to deal with him today. I logged onto my computer, and instantly all my different social mediums popped up.
Facebook, twitter and oovoo all logged themselves in.
Oovoo was a strange one. Video chatting. Like anyone ever did any chatting on there. I learned far too quickly that a camera to camera situation was nothing but trouble. A lonely night and a webcam is never a good idea when there’s an entire world full of horny viewers. But I still logged onto it anyway, and there were a couple of people on there that I would talk to. But this time was different, I logged on to see a friend request. I eagerly checked it, and saw the name ‘Paul Swagner’. Fucking idiot tool. I accepted it, and immediately he tried to contact me.
“What’s up,” he said as his face popped up on screen. His pearly whites flashed me, mesmerizing me.
“Um, nothing really,” I awkwardly said as I scratched my head. “The other night was weird, huh?”
“That’s exactly what I wanted to talk about!” he eagerly exclaimed.
“Troy, I’m going out with your mom to get some groceries, don’t burn the house down!” my dad yelled from downstairs. “And try not to get AIDS either,” I heard him mumble. He was horrible at trying to whisper and be discreet.
“Anyway, you cannot tell a single person about what happened there,” he started. “I know there’s not that much time left in the year, but I can’t leave here having people think I’m a homo”.
I rolled my eyes at him. “What do you care? You’re going to California, you’re never going to see most of these people, including me, ever again. What does it matter if they know you’re a homo?”
“Stop right there. I’m not a homo. I want to expand my horizon, try new things. Sucking a dick for ten seconds does not make me a homo. It makes me…” he paused, struggling to find the word, “Open with Ankara Travesti my sexuality,”
Never heard that one before. “Whatever, I’m not going to tell anybody, I wasn’t going to in the first place,”
“Good,” he said with a smile, flashing me that perfect smile again. He tore his shirt off, expecting me to do the same.
“What do you think your doing?”
“Isn’t this what you people like doing on webcam? Cyberfucking, as they call it?”
I was appalled. Paul Wagner wanted to fucking have cybersex? What the fuck was happening? I wasn’t objecting though. I tore my shirt off, and slid down my pajama pants. My cock was already hardening through my boxers.
“Look at that fucking thing,” he said in astonishment. “I can only wish my that big,”
“Well let’s see it then,” I demanded impatiently. I had things to do today, and couldn’t sit around marveling at my dick all day.
He quickly removed his cock from his shorts. It was nice, not huge, and not much compared to Shawn’s or Jake’s. But it was nice. Looked about 6 inches, and had a nice patch of blonde hair above the cut head. He quickly began stroking it. I tore off my boxers and took my meat in hand. I slowly began stroking it up and down before picking up the pace and vigorously beating it.
“Fuck, you’re sexy,” he asserted from the screen. He looked like he was watching a porno. Something he genuinely enjoyed watching. ‘Open with my sexuality’ my ass, this kid was as gay as they game. I had to admit though, watching him pump his cock was sexy as well. He would spit in his hand to create lubrication and just go at it. He was hot to watch.
I felt myself getting ready to cum. I knew how these things worked, guys went crazy over a nice cum shot. I told him I was getting close, and positioned the camera accordingly. I vigorously pumped my meat, begging my juices to come flying out. Before I knew it, my balls became super sensitive, and my legs became stiff. I threw my head back, and felt my white ropes fly out of my body, landing all over myself and my bed. This was a huge orgasm, and I moaned out after each ejaculation. I looked on the computer screen and saw Paul in ecstasy, and managed to look over in time to see him shoot his own load, landing all over himself and the screen.
“Wow, that was fucking hot,” he said between pants.
“Yeah, it was nice. I gotta go,” I said as I closed the conversation and turned off my computer.
Did I really just having fucking cybersex with that douchebag?
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