Jock Auction (3 page)

“You want to see it, or touch it, or what?” I asked him; he licked his lips as I traced my fingertips around the tube of flesh, shaping the soft cotton against its contours.

Craig nodded, eyes unmoving from my groin.

It wasn’t enough, though. I needed to hear it. “Tell me what you want,” I ordered

him. “I’ll let you have it, but you need to tell me what you want.”

His gaze flicked up to mine, then back down again. The smudge of his blush had

returned, outlining his cheekbones. He swallowed once, then a second time.

“I want to see your dick,” he said, voice quiet and hoarse. I pinched my boxers

tight around the head of it, feeling precum ooze out and into the smooth material. “I want to see it and touch it, and I want to suck it.”

That triggered another lurch in me, and I knew Craig had seen it. I lifted myself

up, still straddling him but on my knees now, and eased both thumbs under the

waistband of my underwear. Looking down the contours of my chest, my stomach, I

watched as my dick came into view: first the root, thick and furred, as I slid my boxers down some, and then the shaft itself. Finally, the head of it sprang free, my cock bobbing in front of me as I tucked the elastic under my balls.

For a moment I waited, hands still on the waistband, framing my groin. Then I

wrapped my fingers around my dick, gave it one or two lazy strokes. I was already

completely, almost painfully, hard.

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Craig didn’t move; it was like he was holding his breath. “Dude, come on,” I told

him, exasperation in my voice, and it seemed enough to wake him from whatever

reverie he was in. Slowly he reached up, let his fingertips first stray along the length of my shaft, and then eagerly gripped me.

It was like electricity. Like the first time I had discovered jerking off, the newness of the sensation. I felt my hips automatically buck, spasming my cock through his fist.

His other hand cradled my balls, gently squeezing and rubbing them, as he dragged his fingers along my hardness.

After a moment, I realized he was pulling on me—wordlessly telling me what he

wanted next. I shuffled myself up until my thighs were flanking his chest, knees tucked into his armpits, and watched as he tugged my dick down, bringing the swollen head close to his mouth.

“Do it,” I whispered, and just as the tip of my cock brushed his lips he opened up and fed the first few inches of me in. Hot and wet, and the flick of his tongue—instantly eager—swarming me. It was all I could do not to force myself into his throat, bury myself in that incredible feeling until my pubes were mashed against his nose.

I resisted, though, let Craig call the shots as he ran his tongue around the flare of my cock and lapped at my precum. With one hand, he worked the bottom half of my

shaft, the fingers of the other a cradle around my nuts, occasionally working them as they began to tighten between my thighs. His hands were soft, though unmistakably

those of a guy, but it was the feel of his mouth on me that was most thrilling.

“I’ve got my cock in your mouth, Craig,” I told him, his lips stretched taut around the thickness of my shaft. He groaned, sending dull vibrations up into my pelvis.

Looking down the length of my body, I watched as he pushed the tip of his tongue out between the layers of skin, wetting my dick until it glistened obscenely.

Glancing behind me, I saw the bulge in his jeans, the evidence of how much I was

turning him on. It looked uncomfortably confined in the tightness of his skinnies, but JOCK AUCTION | 15

Craig made no move to adjust himself, his hands refusing to move from between my

legs.

“Do you want me to get your dick out?” I asked him, my voice teasing, quiet. He

squeezed his eyes shut, nodded as much as he could with his mouth so occupied.

Okay, so I’d looked at other guys’ junk in the locker room, in the showers. I’d seen the dicks of other guys on the football team and on the swim team a couple summers back when I’d spent half my life in the pool. I’d done the usual you-show-me-yours stuff with my cousins, back when we were first getting pubes, and there was still

something mysterious and confusing about boning up.

But now…now was the first time I was really curious. Not just a quick sideways

glance, wondering how you’d compare to whatever soapy guy was showering next to

you, but full on eagerness to see what Craig had happening down there. It didn’t feel like a gay thing—though I was kinda shelving those questions for the moment, since having your dick in some guy’s mouth seemed pretty gay on the face of it—but, in the heat of this experience, I wanted to understand how Craig was feeling.

It’s tough to unbutton someone’s skinny jeans when you’re straddling their chest

at the time—facing the other way, in fact—and you’re pretty desperate not to pull your cock out of their face. I sort of leaned back, chest and stomach taut, and did it by feel, basically looking up at the ceiling and trying not to get too distracted by the tap dance Craig’s tongue was playing on the sensitive triangle where the tip of my cock joined the shaft.

And okay, so I copped a feel. I guess I knew Craig probably wouldn’t object, and

just like his mouth was the first guy’s mouth to get wrapped around my dick, his dick was the first I’d actually had the opportunity to touch—at least, without the potential to get knocked out moments later.

I mean, I know what my own bone feels like when I’m grabbing it through my

jeans. But someone else’s, that’s weirdly different somehow. Sort of harder and softer all at the same time, and you can’t really get a proper grip or an idea of size or thickness or 16
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whatever from it, because there are a couple of layers of material in the way to make stuff more vague.

But I could feel it throbbing, feel how it jerked against my fingertips when I

stroked them down the sides. I managed to snag open the top button, and then it was sort of a case of yanking at the zip until it jagged open. I could slip my fingers in then, get past the denim, and feel the smooth softness of his underwear, tented out by his obvious excitement.

He moaned again then, and his hips rose up, as if trying to force his cock into my grip. And yeah, it probably counted as pretty gay, but I sort of wanted to help him get off too—altruism undoubtedly fueled by the incredible sensations from my dick as it bucked and ground in his mouth and as he lapped and slobbered around it.

But that was going to be tricky with how we were positioned, and if there was one

thing I knew for sure, it was that I didn’t want this kick-ass blowjob to end. So I leaned forward some and forced my arm behind Craig’s neck so that I could lift his head. This way I could slip back some on his chest until I was straddling the base of his rib cage, holding his face up and forward with all of my inches rammed between his lips. And if he didn’t like it, if he wanted to control how much he was taking, I was at least making up for that by reaching behind myself and dipping my fingers under the waistband of his underwear to squeeze the blunt thickness of him, the first cock—bar my own—that I’d ever touched.

Anyway, his hands on my ass pulling my groin in closer, driving my dick down

his throat, made it seem like he was pretty happy with the deal too.

Craig had been leaking, and it only took a couple of amateurish strokes before my

fist was wet with his ooze. Maybe it should’ve turned me off, but it didn’t. I alternated between gripping his dick tight at the base and sort of wagging it as much as it could move in the confines of his briefs, then tracing all the way to the tip and corkscrewing my fingertips around the flared head, which made him jolt and whimper every time.

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It also made him double his efforts on me, and I could feel the surge starting in my balls as Craig brought me close to the point of no return. My hips began to take over, forcing my cock as far in as I could with each thrust, my ass clenching as his gullet writhed around the thick intruder. I looked down, made eye contact with him; he was staring up at me with a hunger I could only assume was mirrored by my own.

I had to ask it. “In your mouth?” and he knew just what I meant, gave me a

pleading look while the corners of his lips flexed as closely to a grin as is possible when you’re busy giving head. It would be the first time for me, certainly; no girl had let me come in her mouth. I smiled back down at him, pointedly drew my fingers up from the chubby base of his cock to the tip. “Here it comes, Craig.”

He coaxed a little more motion out, but to be honest, it wasn’t necessary. I was too far gone as it was. The shock and surprise of the situation, the feel of ringing pleasure between my legs. As I hit the peak, I hugged Craig’s head in close, mashing his nose into my pubes and loosing jet after jet deep into him. I could feel the rhythmic gulp of his swallowing, itself delivering new, clinging sensations around me.

I’d only just begun to breathe again, to come down from the high, when Craig

frantically brushed my hand away from his jeans and began to jerk off madly. Less than twenty seconds and he was moaning again—my softening cock still resting on his

tongue—and then twitching underneath my spread thighs as he reached his own

climax. I felt warm, wet spatters hit my lower back as he tensed three, four times, each time his body growing rigid as he coated his stomach and groin.

I sat there for a moment, tilting my hips back a little to pull myself from his

mouth. Craig’s lips were puffy and slickly glistening, I guess from a mixture of spit, precum, and of course my cream, a last bubble of which oozed from the tip of my knob.

I reached down and smeared it across his face, using my dick as a paintbrush to mess up his cheeks, his chin.

Only then did I stand up, lifting myself off Craig, who lay—disheveled and

flecked with wetness—across the bed. I let my jeans droop to my ankles, stepped out of 18
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them while tucking my still-fluffed but no longer rampant junk back into my boxers.

Craig’s head lolled over to the side to watch me, and I gave a little wriggle of my hips to make sure everything was freshly restored behind fabric. He smirked.

“Dude, all over my back?” I could feel his cum begin to trickle and turned round

to show him the damage. As I peered back over my shoulder, I saw him shrug as best he could while still lying back, the smirk wider.

“Dude, all down my throat,” he pointed out, and I shrugged back, a shit-eating

grin plastered across my face. He’d wanted it; I knew that.

“Can I shower?”

I won’t lie and say there wasn’t a little voice in the back of my head screaming,

Whoa, what’s with all the gay stuff? Why aren’t you getting out of there as soon as fucking
possible?
But I was doing a good job of ignoring it. Ignoring the questions—inevitable, difficult questions—about sexuality and experimentation too. They could probably wait until I didn’t have the rapidly cooling evidence of that experimentation sliding down my back and soaking into my boxers. Craig led me to a family bathroom and pulled out a towel for me, having already tried wiping himself off—not entirely effectively—with an old T-shirt from the floor.

He started to back out the door when I stopped him. “For fuck’s sake, dude, just

get cleaned up,” I told him.

He gave a half-smile; I guess he wasn’t as used to life in the locker room as I’d

become.

I pulled off my socks and peeled down my underwear. As I’d guessed, the back

was streaked with little streams of cream where Craig had pegged me good. I looked over at him as he somewhat awkwardly took off his T-shirt and began to tug down his skinnies.

He wasn’t as shapeless as I’d figured he would be. Sure, he didn’t have the sort of muscles you’d associate with spending half your waking hours on the football field, but neither was he a sack of loose bones. He just had a very slim torso and, as I saw as he JOCK AUCTION | 19

managed to extricate his legs from his clinging jeans, slender thighs and calves to match.

Craig looked self-conscious again when it came to taking off his underwear, a

simple pair of white briefs. I rolled my eyes at him and got the flash of a blush across his cheekbones in return, but he dropped them all the same. His dick—though I’d

briefly seen it and of course felt it—was a surprise, hanging meatily from his groin and at odds with the rest of his lean body.

We stood for a moment looking at each other. I knew my interest was at least

vaguely scientific—the same sort of locker room comparison all boys did and all boys excuse—and I also knew that Craig was looking at me with probably more specific

interests, given what he’d told me before. I didn’t really mind, though.

Cold jizz on your back is cold jizz, though, and after a minute I asked, “So this

shower, then?”

He grinned sheepishly, as if knowing he’d been caught, then brushed past me and

opened the glass door of the sizable shower cubicle. Soon steam was gusting out,

fogging the broad mirror over the basin, and Craig held out his hand, waiter-style, as if to say,
After you, sir.

I didn’t hold back, ducking into the hot water and letting it thunder across my

scalp and shoulders. I was dimly aware of Craig stepping in behind me and shutting the door, but there was space enough for us both to stand without touching. I knew he’d be getting cold, though, and so with only a little reluctance offered up my place under the showerhead.

He tentatively took it, being cautious to flatten himself almost comically to the

wall so that we could switch without him brushing against me. I rolled my eyes again; considering what had happened just a few minutes before, I couldn’t quite see a reason for his shyness. Instead, I busied myself with a handful of soap, lathering first my hair and then the rest of me.