("`-''-/").___..--''"`-._
`6_ 6 ) `-. ( ).`-.__.`)
(_Y_.)' ._ ) `._ `. ``-..-'
_..`--'_..-_/ /--'_.' ,'
(((' (((-((('' ((((
K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N
_________________________________________
WARNING!
This text file contains sexually explicit
material. If you do not wish to read this
type of literature, or you are under age,
PLEASE CLOSE THIS FILE NOW!!!!
_________________________________________
Scroll down to view text
--------------------------------------------------------
This work is copyrighted to the author © 2004. Please
don't remove the author information or make any changes
to this story. You may post freely to non-commercial
"free" sites, or in the "free" area of commercial sites.
Thank you for your consideration.
--------------------------------------------------------
Jerry's Obsession
by Rich D. (richdinmd45@yahoo.com )
***
The story of a young man's first sexual encounter with
another man. He's petrified and not at all sure he
wants to do it. How many other guys go through this?
Written as realistically as I could make it. (MM, 1st-
gay-expr, bi)
***
I've always wanted to suck a guy's cock. From the age
of twelve it's been an obsession. Prior to that I
fantasized about it but then the testosterone kicked in
and turned fantasy into fixation.
My high school years have been the worst. Before and
after gym class I'm surrounded by naked guys and, in
the showers I have to joke around with them and pretend
to be straight and pretend not to notice their cocks.
Actually, I am straight, I just have this obsession.
The test for sexual inclination is this: If you look at
the opposite sex 95% of the time then you are straight.
It's more like 100% with me, because guys don't turn me
on. I have never looked at a guy on the street or
anywhere else and thought: Hey, he's cute. I like
girls.
Two nights ago I was online in my bedroom and in a chat
room. I was also browsing through the AOL newsgroups
and decided to look in one called:
alt.binaries.pictures.erotica.male.oral. I'd been in
there before, but never on a school night, and not with
my bedroom door unlocked. I got up and remedied that
part of the situation right away. I couldn't do
anything about what day it was.
I was in boxer shorts and a tee-shirt. I had not
masturbated in three or four days and was very horny. I
had a pretty good erection from the last newsgroup I
was in: alt.binaries.pictures.girlfriends.ex. In it
there had been a pretty brunette supposedly sucking her
boyfriend's best friend's cock. It didn't give her name
or age, but she was definitely in her teens and a
normal looking girl. I think this guy really fucked
her. Not fucked her, I mean really fucked her over.
Anyway, the brunette really turned me on and so did the
cock she was sucking. It was long and pink and alive
looking. It's my problem in a nutshell. I have a
disassociative obsession. I want the guy's cock without
the guy.
The chat room I was in was one of the ones created by
local kids so I wasn't doing anything stupid there. But
I had IRC open as well, and was browsing there. When I
saw a chat room named StraightguyslooktooMD, I went in.
"Hello," someone immediately IM'd me.
"Hello yourself."
"Where you from?"
"Germantwon," I misspelled. "You?"
"Germantwon? LO. Ijamsville. Know where that is?"
"It's north of me. Near I-70, right?"
"That's right," he said. "So, you gay?"
"No," I wrote back. "Bi, I think. You?"
"Commitedly straight, but with a desire for oral sex."
"Which way?" I asked.
"Receiving."
My belly felt like a nest of squirming vipers. "How old
are you?" I asked.
"25. You?"
"Sure you want to ask that?"
His reply came back slower than it had before. "If
you're under 18 we shouldn't be talking. You're 18,
right?"
"I'm in high school," I wrote truthfully.
"What year?"
"12th."
"Plenty of 12th graders are 18."
"If you say so," I said.
When no reply seemed to be coming, I typed back: "I was
teasing you. I'm 18. Want to see my license?"
"Do you have a scanner?" he wrote.
"Are you serious? I do, but I don't think I'm ready to
give you my personal information yet."
He wrote back, "LO," and I felt better. "So, have you
ever done it?"
"Done what?" I asked.
"Sucked a guy's cock."
"Only in my dreams," I replied truthfully. "Have you?"
"Twice. I like being sucked, but the first couple of
times left me wondering how it would be, so I decided
to find out."
"Did you like it?" I asked.
"Not as much as being sucked. It was okay."
I hesitated before asking this: "Do guys usually let
you come in their mouths? And how many guys you been
with?"
"About 50/50," he replied. "And six guys so far. All
from AOL or IRC. Interested?"
I looked at my hands and they were shaking. I felt
breathless and terrified. A guy I had never met and
whose name I didn't even know was inviting me to suck
his cock.
"What's you name?" I typed.
"Rob. What's yours?"
"Jerry."
"What school you go to Jerry?"
"Seneca Valley."
"The Screaming Eagles. I went to Quince Orchard 9th and
10th, graduated from Damascus in 97. Moved to
Ijamsville in 2002. Have an apartment here. You live at
home still?"
"Yeah," I wrote. I had calmed a little, not much. "When
was the 1st time? Were you in school?"
"Hell no! You crazy LO? Not until November 2002. Been
almost 2 years now."
"I'm surprised you didn't do it in college," I wrote.
"Still lived at home. Didn't move out officially until
I graduated. Lived in a dorm the first 2 years so no
opportunity there. Went off-campus after that but with
three other guys, so no opportunity there either.
Didn't consider it until I had moved to Ijamsville."
I wrote hesitantly: "Where do you usually meet? In your
apartment?"
"Yeah. Twice I've met them someplace else, but mostly
they like the privacy of my apartment. Beats the front
seat of a car, LO."
"Or the backseat," I wrote.
He asked me again: "Are you interested, Jerry?"
"Yes," I wrote honestly. "And very scared."
"You have a right to be. My first time I was scared
shitless and I didn't even do anything. In fact, I was
probably more scared than he was. I was petrified I
wouldn't be able to get it up. Could you imagine?
Having a guy ready to give you head and not being able
to get it up?"
"LO. That would be a nightmare, I guess. It didn't
happen then?"
"As soon as the guy touched me I started to grow. I got
hard as a rock in his hand. He stroked me for about two
minutes and then began to kiss it on the tip. Now THAT
I liked, LO."
"I guess so! Was he gay?"
"No, married. All of them were straight or first-time
bisexual. 4 of the 6 were married. If you do it, you
will definitely be the youngest one, though."
My hands were shaking again. "How would we do this? Do
I drive up to your place?"
"Yes, but only at night."
I understood that immediately. My fantasizing took
place only at night. I couldn't even think about gay-
sex in the daylight. "It couldn't be this weekend," I
wrote him back, and then asked myself why not. I had
nothing lined up and nothing in the works. Fear, I
guess. I followed with: "I said that because I'm
scared. There's no reason we couldn't get together
tomorrow night or Saturday night. If you're free."
"I'm free and very willing to meet you, Jerry. (Spelled
"Anxious", LO.) Want directions to my place?"
"Yes," I replied. My hands shook worse than ever. I
jumped at the sound of my brother laughing downstairs
and was sure I could be seen through the curtained
windows. My penis ached with longing and semen leaked
against my right thigh. I wanted to tell him that, but
couldn't gather the courage.
"From Germantown, take 355 or I-270 to Route 80. Take
80 north/east to Prices Distillery Road, turn right on
Ijamsville Road, and follow it north to Mahogany Run."
He gave me the street address and the apartment number
of his place, which I won't repeat here. "The next
question, I guess, is when. And what do you look like,
Jerry?"
Add embarrassment to trepidation. "Saturday night would
be best, I think. I'm 5'9", weigh 165#, brown eyes and
brown hair, and I'm white."
"LO. White here too, 5'11", 170#, brown and brown also.
I'm cut if you're interested in that and 7-1/2". You?"
I wanted to giggle. I almost did. I was nearly too
jittery to write. "Also cut and 6" long. Normal
thickness. Takes a small hook to the left if that's
okay?"
"Fine," he wrote back. "Just fine. Only keep in mind .
. ."
He didn't have to say the rest. I understood. "I'll do
all the sucking," I promised.
* * *
Saturday night arrived and I was a schizoid-paranoia
attack waiting to happen. Everyone knew what I was
doing tonight. A big sign on my back announced that I'd
be on my knees in a few hours gobbling cock. I had
neglected to bring up the subject of sperm in the mouth
and feared he'd expect it now. I had no idea if I could
do that. I had no idea if I wanted to. The idea of cock
in my mouth was bad enough. And the idea of swallowing?
I shuddered mightily.
"Get a grip on yourself," I whispered shakily. It was
seven o'clock and getting dark outside. I already knew
the way because I had driven up there last night to
scope the place out. I had never been to Ijamsville
before but felt I could navigate the main roads
blindfolded. Of his apartment I could recite the number
of steps to the front stoop, the number of windows in
the front of the building, the makes and models of all
the cars parked out front and the sex and colors of at
least four of his neighbors. Two were females and one
very cute. The other was a Goth and cute in her own
way, I guess. I pray that he hadn't seen me.
We set the time for nine o'clock so I could get back at
a decent hour. I felt surprisingly stupid asking how
long it would take but he came back saying about two
hours, if I wanted to talk. I wondered how long I could
suck. The blow jobs I had received myself hadn't lasted
that long, five or ten minutes, max. Getting it over
with and done when it was expected of you was a girls'
first impulse, I imagined. I suddenly felt very sorry
for girls.
At eight o'clock I told mom when to expect me back and
went out to my car. I was jumpy as a cat at a canine
convention; I was sure the engine wouldn't start. Then,
because I feared running out of gas, I topped off my
three-quarter full tank at the Exxon station. I was a
mess.
On the way I recited my greetings. "Hello, Rob. I'm
Jerry." "Hi, I'm Jerry from the chat room." "Remember
me? I'm Jerry."
What if this was a joke. What if some twisted friend of
mine had discovered my screen name and set me up. What
if Jerry the twenty-four year old e-mailer turned out
to be Jerry the forty-two-year old redneck trucker who
didn't except teenage boys knocking on his front door.
What if friends planned a surprise party for me as a
Halloween prank. I almost turned around.
At eight-thirty I pulled into his parking lot and
waited. At ten minutes to nine, I stopped twisting my
hands in my lap and got out and locked the door. At
five minutes to nine, I did the exact same thing and
walked over to the building. I climbed the stoop and
pressed the button marked 3C.
"Jerry?"
"Uh-huh."
"It's open, okay?"
The door buzzed and I grabbed the handle like a
malfunctioning robot. My whole body felt like a
malfunction--especially my bowels, which felt like warm
dishwater. I opened the door and went inside. I climbed
the three sets of stairs to the third floor landing and
there, as advertised, standing in the open doorway of
his apartment, grinning uncertainly, was my date.
"Hi there," I said lamely.
"Hi there. You gonna come in?"
His grin had widened because unconsciously, I had
stopped on the last riser before the third floor
landing. I certainly wanted to flee. I wanted to turn
tail on those steps and scramble down them like out of
a burning building. Instead, I stepped up to the
landing and approached the door. He had on jeans and a
long-sleeve vee-neck sweater and Reeboks. His hair was
brown and longer than I had imagined; he was lightly
freckled across the nose and cheek bones. His
appearance was that of a shoe-store salesman or maybe a
someone from Best Buy. In other words, normal.
"I'm Jerry," I said stupidly and stuck out my hand. He
shook it and stepped back to let me in. His apartment
was what you'd expect of a Best Buy employee:
mismatched couch and chairs, a coffee table that looked
like a Big Lots special, Wal-Mart lamps on K-mart end
tables, and a large oval area rug covering most of the
floor. On the plus side was that the place looked
immaculately clean, the flooring under the rug was
gleaming wood, and he had a full dining room set,
complete with china cabinet. Personal touches such as
Redskins and Baltimore Ravens pennants, a three story
waterfall with a dozen potted plants stuck in one
corner, a large component stereo system featuring
Harman-Kardon equipment, a wide-screen projection TV
and pictures of sports team gave the place a homey
feel.
"Take your jacket?" he asked.
"Thanks." I took it off and handed it to him. He hung
it on a line of pegs beside the front door. I looked at
him, thinking distractedly that between his legs was a
7-1/2" long penis with my name on it.
"Something to drink? I have Coke, diet-Coke, Pepsi,
ice-tea, even bottled water."
"No thanks," I said, then, "Bottled water?"
"Coming right up." He walked into the dining room--
which was about as big as my mother's walk-in closet--
through a doorway into the kitchen. I heard the
refrigerator door open and the clank of jars and
bottles on the shelves, and then it closed again. He
returned with a bottle of Dasani for myself and a diet-
Coke. "Cheers," he said, popping the aluminum pop-top.
If I could have been any more anxious I don't know what
would have caused it. I breathed consciously through my
nose and felt every beat of my heart. My ears rang and
someone had replaced my brains with mud. Maybe mud
thought better. "Do you, uh, live here alone?" I asked.
He nodded, grinning. Of course mud could think better.
"Stupid question," I said. "How about, do you get much
company?"
"I won't tonight," he said. "Everyone thinks I'm out of
town."
"Oh," I replied, feeling red light up my face. "Nice
place."
He sat in a chair and I sat down on the couch. I
crossed my legs, crossed them in the other direction,
fumbled my bottled water putting it down on a coaster.
"It's okay," he said quickly, getting up and going to
the kitchen. "It's laminate, not wood, so you can't
hurt it." Regardless of that, I was about to cry. He
returned with a dishtowel in his hand and wiped up the
spill. "Believe me, this is nothing."
Completely humiliated, I sat back against the seat
cushions and waited. I had nothing to say nor could
think of anything; I wanted to go home. My ego was a
pinch of salt and so was my penis. I tried to locate it
by muscle-flex but it had left the building. I wanted
to follow it.
"Relax, Jerry. I'm not going to bite you." The wrong
thing to say to a guy there to suck your cock.
"I'm okay," I lied. I looked around the room,
remembering I'd already said it was nice. The mud
seemed to be churning. "You work where?" I asked.
"Best Buy in Frederick."
I laughed but he didn't seem surprised. "I get that
reaction a lot," he said. "You work?"
"Part time. At the mall."
He didn't ask where. "You go out for team sports, Jer?"
"Do I look like I go out for team sports, Rob?"
"You could," he said, pleased that I was loosening up.
"How's Seneca Valley this year?"
"Doing shitty," I said. "One and two. Damascus beat us
last week."
"That's too bad."
"Yeah." I picked up my water bottle and my hand no
longer visibly shook. Six guys he had said, at least
four of them in this apartment. How many had been just
like me? Surprisingly, I asked him.
"Every single one," he said. "I was scared shitless
myself, remember. I always am."
"You don't look it," I said.
"I'm used to faking." He sat with his soda can grasped
between his hands, and his honesty reassured me. "Tell
me about yourself," he said.
I thought. "Well, I'm eighteen and I have a
girlfriend." He smiled. "I play football and soccer at
school--" I tipped my Dasani bottle at him in
recognition. "--and softball and soccer for the county
league. I was an honor student ninth, tenth and
eleventh grades, and I'll probably go to my dad's alma-
mater, Penn State." He cheered me me on that. "I have a
1999 Toyota Corolla that I will probably never sell, a
thousand CD's and as many MP3's as I could download
before my hard drive crashed." He laughed and tipped
his diet-Coke can at me. "And I know one of your
neighbors is a Goth chick."
"Krystle," he said, not at all surprised. "She's really
hot."
"Is she?"
"When you get to know here, yeah."
I nodded slowly. Then I blurted out: "I'm not sure I
can do this, Rob! I mean--" I didn't know what I meant.
But he seemed unfazed.
"Nobody's making you do anything. As far as I'm
concerned, you just dropped by for a visit. I had
nothing at all planned for the evening; I was glad to
see you. I gotta warn you though, Krystle is only
seventeen. When she was sixteen she almost got me into
trouble. If I hadn't asked, she wouldn't have told me.
Scary, man."
I couldn't believe his cool. "That would have been a
real bummer, man."
"Ten years for ten minutes? Yeah. Not worth it. Not
worth it at all. Are you really eighteen, Jerry?"
Say no. Say no and that you're sorry for what you just
did, that you regret letting your obsession fuck with
your judgment but there it is. Say its not worth ten
years for ten minutes, even if you're a guy, and nobody
cares about guys because nobody wants the embarrassment
of such a thing. Just say no.
Instead, I got out my wallet and handed him my driver's
license.
"Thank you," he said, handing it back.
"You're welcome."
I put the license back in my wallet and my wallet back
in my rear pocket and I asked what I needed to say.
"Can I suck your dick now, Rob?"
"You certainly can."
And I did.
***
Every guy has a story. Mine is special only because it
happened to me. What I did with Jerry that night is
also special, and nobody's business but my own. I will
answer a few questions, though.
Did I like it? Very much.
Did he cum in my mouth? Yes, again.
Did I swallow? That's something only I and Jerry know
and I'm not telling.
Have I seen him again?
Not yet, but I can hope.
THE END
About this story: I tried to write this tale as
convincingly as I could. I am not Jerry and there is no
Rob in Ijamsville. The places are real but everything
else is made up. I don't condone sex with minors.
My real age is 45 and I'm a father with two grown kids.
I've never been with a guy and this is my first attempt
at gay-fiction. I do, however, understand obsession.
I've lived it with all my life. Jerry's obsession is my
own, only he did something about it, where I never did.
I hope you enjoyed the story.
Rich D.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
It's okay to *READ* stories about unprotected sex with
others outside a monogamous relationship. But it isn't
okay to *HAVE* unprotected sex with people other than
a trusted partner. You only have one body per lifetime,
so take good care of it!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Kristen's collection - Directory 31