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My name is Grady Lakeland, and I moved to Storyville with my dad after my parents were divorced. We'd been in Storyville only two weeks when we finally got to move out of the little two bedroom apartment my dad had rented when we first arrived and into a three bedroom house near Storyville High School. The house wasn't amazing or anything. It was bigger than the apartment, and I could finally have all of my stuff with me instead of in boxes inside a storage shed.
Let me start out by telling you about myself. I'm an average teenager with dark hair and brown eyes. My hair is always cut short, but that doesn't stop the waves from forming on top of my head. This is a trait I received from my mother. I work out just about every weekend, but I'm by no means a muscle man. I am quite proud of my toned body, though. My dad says that with my body size and height, I shouldn't go overboard with working out. I'm only five feet-eight inches tall, but I don't think anyone really worries about my height. In Oregon, I had many friends, and girls asked me out fairly often. I'm not saying that I'm a God, or anything. I just think I look better than some.
The only thing about me that I don't like are my defective eyes. My vision started to get worse when I was ten years old, and I've had glasses ever since. Now don't get me wrong, I don't think that anyone who wears glasses is ugly. I just don't like them on me. The pair that I have currently aren't too bad. They cost my dad a lot of money, and the frames are really nice.
My dad is a really sexy guy, and I can't understand why my mother decided that she didn't love him anymore. He's six feet tall with dark hair and eyes like mine. His vision is perfect, though, and so is his body. My dad works out more than I do, but he says that once you reach his age its necessary to work out more to keep your physique. He says that I'll learn that when I get older.
One thing about myself that I have always kept a closely guarded secret is that I'm gay. I'm not worried that my dad will throw me out or disown me, but I'm just not ready for anyone to find out. That means that I keep a close eye on everything I say and not only when I'm around my father either. I believe I successfully kept my secret in Oregon. None of my friends even suspected, and the girls kept asking me out, so I believe that I was successful.
That brings us to the house in Storyville. House number 213 Crestview Drive is a two story, three bedroom house with two full bathrooms, a large living room, kitchen and dining room. There are two bedrooms and a bathroom on the second floor of the house. The master bedroom is on the first floor, and I got to decide which of the two identical second floor bedrooms to claim as my own. It wasn't exactly a difficult decision for me to make. I just walked into the first bedroom off the top of the stairs and put my bags on the floor.
We moved all of the furniture that we had, and everything from the storage shed, into the house, and I was unpacking my things in my room when I discovered the picture on the shelf in my closet. It was a Polaroid that had started to fade a bit, but I could make out the subject and most of the details of the photo. As I held it in my hand and inspected it, my mouth went dry and my stomach started to quiver. I could feel my dick getting hard, and I quickly closed my bedroom door and sat down on the bed I'd just put together.
The boy in the picture couldn't have been more than a year older than me. He was blond, dressed in a baseball uniform with a baseball bat across his shoulders. His hands were on either side of the bat, making his toned chest strain against the fabric of his jersey. What had made me hard was the fact that his pants were down around his thighs, and just the head and maybe an inch of his dick was sticking out of the side of his jock. He had a smug look on his face, but I didn't waste too much time looking at his face. It was the jock that I couldn't take my eyes off of.
Over the course of the next few days, I studied that picture over and over again. I had committed the details of the image to memory, and I lodged that picture firmly in my mind each night as I wrapped my fist around my dick to jack off. I'd think of that sculpted chest and stomach as my hand slid up and down the length of my dick. I wondered who the boy was and how old the picture was. I also wondered if he was gay, and if he was, what would he think if he knew that I masturbated thinking about that picture every night.
Abandoning all thoughts of anything but the details of that picture, I used my left hand to rub the lotion I'd swiped from the bathroom downstairs into my balls as my hand, coated liberally with the same lotion, slid up and down my dick. I kept myself quiet, not moaning and giving myself away to my father downstairs as I felt my body start to tingle with my oncoming orgasm. When it hit, my entire body shook as each shot of cum erupted from my dick. My fifteen year old balls produced a lot of cum, and it was a quality that I was proud of.
After taking a shower to clean all of the cum and lotion off of my crotch, stomach and chest, I settled into bed for a night of dreams about the beautiful boy in the picture. My dreams were full of the walking, talking version of the boy I'd nicknamed "baseball jock". In those dreams he was more than slightly undressed.
The next morning, it was time for my first day at Storyville High School. I got up, made my bed and got dressed before meeting my father downstairs for breakfast. He was dressed in his suit and tie with the newspaper folded beside his plate of pancakes. He smiled at me when I came into the kitchen.
"All set for your big day?"
"I'm as ready as I'll ever be," I replied, taking three pancakes and sitting across from him at the table.
"It'll be all right, Grady," he assured me. "You'll see. Before long you'll have more friends than you ever had."
"I'm not worried," I half lied as I spread syrup on my pancakes.
"I probably won't be home when you get home today," he said. "I have another meeting after work today."
He'd been going to meetings for the last two weeks. His company, which I knew very little about, was in the process of being taken over. Dad was one of the new employees hired by the company that was doing the taking over, but that meant that he had to attend meetings of some sort almost every day. He'd never told me about what his company actually did, and I never asked. It was an unspoken rule that work, school and home were all separate worlds.
We were quiet after that, and it didn't take long for him to finish his breakfast and leave for work. That left me alone to load the dishwasher and get myself as psyched as possible for my first day in a new school. It wasn't really that bad for me. Sure, I was nervous about it, but I wasn't so nervous that I didn't actually want to go. We'd been to the school already to register me, and I had all of my classes lined up. It wasn't as if I had to spend the first forty minutes in the guidance office to get my schedule.
I walked out of the house at a quarter till seven to head down the street and catch my bus when the door to the house next to ours opened and "baseball jock" walked out. I was stunned and stuck to my spot on the steps as he walked out of the house, rummaging through his backpack. When he zipped it shut and tossed it over his shoulder, he saw me and smiled.
"Hey," he said, skipping down the steps of his front porch and walking over to me. "I was wondering if I was ever going to see who moved in. I'm Chet, but everyone calls me CJ." He reached out and grabbed my hand to shake while I mentally processed what he'd just said to me.
"Grady," I said stupidly as he pumped my hand and smiled.
"You headed to the bus stop?" He looked in the driveway and saw that there was no car before looking back at me.
"Yeah," I said. "I don't get my license for another three months."
"No sweat," he said with a smile. "You can ride with me. Storyville High, right?"
"Yeah," I said, still not over the shock of finding the subject of my masturbatory fantasies standing in front of me.
He was even better looking in person, and I could actually see his green eyes. They sparkled, and he had this look of excitement on his face. His hair was cut short now, and he had it gelled and spiked for school. He smelled like soap and aftershave, and I couldn't help noticing that his white shirt was kind of tight. I felt the familiar feeling of my dick trying to force room in my jeans, and I held my bag in front of me to prevent him from seeing it.
"You don't say much, huh?" He laughed and turned to walk to his car with me following dumbly behind him.
"Not a morning person," I lied. I had to snap out of my amazement and act normal.
His car was an old black Ford Mustang, and he told me all about how he'd saved every penny he made at the video store to buy the car. He said his grandparents had helped out with what he didn't have after saving, and his father had helped him get insurance and plates. He talked to me like I was a friend he hadn't seen in a few years, and I liked that about him. When he asked me what I was doing after school, I was silent for a few minutes. I had to make sure that I didn't just blurt out that I was planning to lock myself in my room, holding his picture while I stroked my dick into another massive orgasm. I didn't know what was wrong with me. I'd never felt so nervous around anyone in my life.
"Nothing," I finally said. "I don't know anyone here, so I just hang out around the house."
"Well, you know me now," he laughed. "Why don't I come over and hang out with you?"
"OK," I replied stupidly.
The first class of the day was kind of strange for me. It was a study period, and I didn't know anyone. Everyone divided off into groups of friends, and I was one of the only people without a group. Sure, some of them asked me about myself, where I'd come from and that sort of thing, but mostly they left me alone. It was odd for me, because I was so used to having a group of friends of my own to hang out with and talk to. Making new friends would take a while, but I was sure I'd eventually have a group to join.
I had a blast in my Art class, and though I'm not much better than average when it comes to art, the teacher was happy with the drawing I did in that hour. Math and Science classes were where I was really gifted, and the teachers in both of those classes quickly understood that I could excel in their subjects. They made sure that I had challenging work to do.
The rest of the day seemed to go by all right. No one snickered at me or anything in any of my new classes. CJ was in three of them, and he met me for lunch. I was introduced to his friends, but I can't remember who any of them were. I remember names, but I couldn't put them with faces. That was going to take a bit longer.
The final hour of the school day was the one that really dragged on and on. I couldn't wait to get out of school and hang out with CJ. I was worried at lunch that he would invite one of his other friends to hang out with us, but he didn't. It wasn't that I expected him to take off his clothes and let me fondle him or anything. I just wanted to get to know him a little better before he brought other people into the mix. After all, CJ lived right next door to me.
When the final bell sounded, I went to my locker and waited for CJ to come and find me. He'd promised to meet me at my locker after school, and I was eager to get home. I saw him with his friends, laughing and talking as they all came down the hall. I hoped that eventually, I'd be one of that group. I hadn't realized how much I was going to miss all of my friends from Oregon.
"Hey, Grady," said CJ as he and his friends parted ways and he headed over to me. "Ready to go?"
"Sure," I replied. I still hadn't gotten past one or two word replied when I talked to him. I really needed to work on my verbal skills.
We drove to our neighborhood, and then we sat in my room. We played video games, and CJ told me all about his circle of friends and how close they all were. I listened intently, because I really wanted to be one of that group. I hadn't even thought about the picture since we'd gotten to my house. His friends were what I was interested in.
I told him about all of my friends from Oregon, and he told me about his best friend, Jesse, that had lived in my house. He even said that the room I was in had been Jesse's, and that's when the picture came into my mind. If Jesse was a guy, and he had a picture like that of CJ, did that mean CJ was gay? I couldn't keep that out of my head.
"So did you leave a girlfriend in Oregon?" CJ asked, ripping me out of my thoughts.
"Nope," I replied. "I went out to movies and stuff with some of the girls from school, but I didn't have a steady one."
"Me either," he said. "I've been out with a few of them, but none of them really spark my interest for long for some reason."
I thought I knew the reason, but then I berated myself for assuming that he was gay just because of the picture. For all I knew it could have been a prank. I didn't like the way I was quickly jumping to conclusions all of a sudden. CJ was having a real effect on me. I was actually sad to see him leave when he announced that he needed to get home for supper. He told me he'd meet me in the morning to go to school, and then he was gone.
I worked on my homework until my dad got home. We talked about school over supper, and I told him about CJ. Dad was very happy that I seemed to be making friends, and I reminded him that the only one that I'd really gotten to know at all was CJ. He assured me that it wouldn't be long, and I'd know a lot of them better.
Dad was right. Over the course of the school week, I did get to know a few of the guys in CJ's group of friends a little better. Randy O'Connell and Dane Flemming were the clowns of the group. Both boys had dark hair like mine, but their eyes were blue like the sky. They talked fast, and they loved to keep the group laughing. It turned out that they both only lived two blocks from me, and before the end of the week both of them had been to my house to hang out and play video games.
CJ continued to come over every afternoon, and he even talked about having me over to spend the night that Friday night. That was something that had me both excited and nervous at the same time. I was excited, because I would be spending the night with CJ. I was nervous about what I might say or do. I'd never been nervous around any of my other friends before. Having CJ Deeter as my friend was very strange for me. CJ was definitely having an effect on me, and I wasn't sure if I liked that effect.
When Friday arrived, he told me that his parents had said I could stay. I asked my father when I got home from school, and he said he thought it was a great idea. We went upstairs and gathered a few video games, a change of clothes for me and my sleeping bag. He looked at me funny when I grabbed the sleeping bag, but he didn't say anything.
His house was almost exactly like our house, but it only had two bedrooms, and there was no dining room. The kitchen was huge, and his mother was making supper when we walked in the back door. She looked kind of like him with long blond hair and the same green eyes. She smiled at me when he introduced us and she asked if I had eaten. I informed her that I hadn't, and then we were off to his room.
CJ's room was a lot like mine. We had the same kinds of posters on the walls of sports figures, but the sports stars weren't the same. He had his own television and VCR, and his Playstation was the same as mine, too. His bed was bigger than mine, and I figured out why he looked at me strange when I grabbed my sleeping bag. Unlike my single bed, CJ had a queen sized bed in his room.
"You can put your stuff over there," he said, pointing to a spot on the floor in front of the closet. "We don't have long until supper is ready, so what do you want to do?"
"I don't care," I replied. "Whatever you want to do."
"We can play a video game until Mom yells for us," he said and started to go through his collection of games. We had virtually the same games. The only ones he didn't have that I had, I'd brought with me. He only had one game that I didn't have, but it wasn't one I'd ever wanted to play before. He chose that one, and we were laughing and making fun of it as we played.
His father was home by the time his mother called us down for supper. He looked just like his father. I'd thought that his mother looked a little like him, but this was like looking at what CJ would look like in the future. He was easily six feet tall with the same blond hair as his son. His eyes were a darker green than his wife's, and I was surprised that I didn't notice how much lighter her eye color was than CJ's. He smiled at me and shook my hand when we were introduced.
He asked about my father while we ate, and I told him all I knew about the company my father worked for. When Mrs. Deeter asked about my mother, I had to explain how she left us and wanted nothing to do with me or my dad. Everyone was a little quiet after that, but I didn't really feel uncomfortable about the question. If my mother didn't want anything to do with me, then she wasn't worth me getting upset over.
We watched a movie on television with Mr. and Mrs. Deeter, and then CJ and I went up to his room to play video games. We talked about school, classes and our friends, and I was happy to finally be able to call them "our friends". When I asked him if any of them were on the baseball team with him, he gave me a strange look.
"Baseball? None of us play baseball. We never have," he said. "What made you think I played baseball?"
That was a difficult question for me to ask. I was silent for a while as I scrambled for any answer that wouldn't sound fictitious, but nothing came to mind. I was about to just ask him to forget it when he said something else.
"Jesse played baseball," he said quietly. "I used to go to all of his games, but I never played. I just can't figure out why you would think that I played."
"I found a picture in my closet," I said slowly. I couldn't believe I was going to tell him the truth, but my mouth kept opening, and I kept talking. "I found it the day we moved in. Its kind of faded, but I could tell it was you. You had a baseball uniform on and a bat over your shoulders . . ."
"And my pants were down," he said, not looking at me. "I thought Jesse burned all of those damned pictures. How much of me did you see?"
The question was direct enough, but he still wasn't looking at me. I was trying to decide how much I was still going to tell him, and my heart was racing. Was I actually going to tell him that I masturbated, thinking about that damned picture? I don't think that was what I was planning to say, but then my mouth opened again.
"You were wearing a jock, and you were kind of hanging out of it a bit," I heard myself saying.
"Perfect," he sighed, putting the game controller on the floor in front of him. "So you think I'm some kind of pervert now, huh?"
"I found the picture when I moved in," I reminded him. "If I thought you were a pervert, I wouldn't have had anything to do with you. I knew it was you in the picture the first time I saw you."
"So the picture wasn't faded too badly," he said. "Look, Jesse and I . . ."
He trailed off and looked at his hands in his lap again. I didn't know what to say to him. I should have said that it was no big deal and to forget about it, but I really wanted to know what he was planning to say after Jesse and I.
"God," he sighed, running his fingers through his hair. "You have to promise not to tell anyone about that picture."
"I wouldn't tell anyone about it," I replied. "It isn't anyone's business."
"I could kill Jesse for leaving one behind," he said. "He swore to me that he burned every one of those pictures."
I was starting to wonder just how many of them there were. I had never thought about more of them. I'd always tried to use my imagination to come up with more mental pictures. I'd had no idea that there had been a series of those pictures. Jesse must have either taken the rest with him or burned them. I didn't understand why he'd leave one behind, but that wasn't my worry.
"There was only that one," I stupidly said. "I didn't find any others."
"What did you do with the picture?" CJ asked, and it was my turn to be quiet for a few minutes.
"Its in my top dresser drawer under my socks," I sighed, thinking that now was the time that I was going to get hit.
"Why would you keep it?"
"I . . ." I trailed off. Did I tell him the truth? Did I think up some lie to try and hide my secret again? I was actually shocked to discover that I was tired of hiding. I was tired of making up lies to hide my secret. I actually wanted to tell him. "I like to look at it now and then."
"You like to look at a picture of me with my dick hanging out of my jock?" He looked at me then, and I had to put my head down.
"Look," I sighed, "I know what you're thinking, and if you want me to leave, I will."
"Why would I want you to leave? I just want to know if you like looking at a picture of me with my dick hanging out," he said, stunning me.
"Yes, I do," I admitted, looking him in the eye. I was ready for whatever was going to come next. If he called me names, I thought I deserved it. I just didn't want to lie about this stuff anymore.
"Well, if you want, I'll show you what my dick looks like without a jock," he said, and I thought my ears were deceiving me.
I sat there, staring at him, no doubt with my mouth open, for at least a solid minute. I couldn't believe he said that to me. After all I'd done to make sure I didn't let myself slip and give myself away in front of him, he was willing to show me his dick. I didn't know what to say to that. My mind wasn't working properly, but my dick was getting hard. It definitely knew what was happening.
He got up with a sigh and hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his shorts, looking at me. With one fluid motion, he pulled his shorts and underwear down his legs to his ankles and stepped out of them. He turned to face me and put his hands on his hips. His dick was right in front of my face. It was hard as a rock, and I was stunned.
"Well, you've seen mine," he said, sitting down beside me. "Now show me yours."
I almost laughed at that one. It was like he was playing the game of "you show me yours, and I'll show you mine" only he'd already shown his. That made it my turn. I stood up on unsteady legs and unbuttoned my shorts. I glanced at him before pulling them down, and he was looking at me with an expectant look on his face. With a sigh of my own, I pulled my own shorts and underwear down to my ankles and stepped out of them. I imitated what he had done and stood in front of him with my own hard dick in his face. Finally I sat down beside him.
"Can I touch it?" He looked almost as nervous as I felt. I smiled at him and nodded my head, and then he tentatively wrapped his hand around my dick and slowly started to stroke me. "Its been a while for me."
"I've never done anything like this before," I reminded him, but I was loving the sensation of his hand on me.
I reached out my hand without remembering to ask him if it was all right. He smiled and nodded at me when I hesitated, and then I wrapped my hand around a dick that wasn't mine for the first time in my young life. It didn't feel that much different than mine, I suppose. I don't know what I expected it to feel like. I could feel the veins that snaked up and down and around his dick, and as I closed my hand around it I could feel his pulse. The head was slightly larger than the shaft, and he was already leaking precum. I don't know why I did it, but I ran my thumb over the head of his dick, smearing the precum all over it. He shuddered, and his grip got tighter on my dick.
"That's nice," he said with a sigh, and when I looked up at him, his eyes were softly closed.
He copied what I'd done, and I felt little bolts of electricity shoot through the length of my dick as he did it. I wanted so badly to find out what it was like to have his dick in my mouth, but I didn't want to make him think I was too gay, so I didn't say anything. What we were already doing was more than I had dreamed of in my nightly dreams of him. I had to concentrate on what I was doing so I didn't get lost in the sensation of him stroking my dick.
I tightened my grip on his dick to remind myself what I was doing, and I heard him sigh. I kept trying to ignore the pleasure he was giving me, so I could continue to give him the same amount of pleasure, but it was hard. Being this close to his naked body after fantasizing about it for so long was almost hypnotic. The feel of his hard dick in my hand was enough to keep me excited even without his hand on mine. The very fact that we were touching each other in this way had my head wanting to spin.
I could smell the scent of him, and it was an intoxicating mixture of soap, bubble gum, sweat and aftershave. My balls were tingling almost from the time he exposed his penis. I couldn't believe it was happening, and I wanted to do so much more. I didn't know exactly how far he was willing to go, though. I didn't want to mess it up with pushing too far too soon.
With another sigh, CJ sped up his movements on my dick, tightening his grip slightly and bringing me to a new level of arousal. He definitely knew what he was doing, and I thought about about Jesse and what he and CJ had really done. All thoughts of Jesse and CJ's experience left my mind as my balls started to tingle even more, and my knees joined them. My orgasm was coming fast.
"I'm almost there," I warned softly, almost panting.
"Me too," he replied, and he was panting.
Then, as I watched, his balls slowly contracted in their sack. I felt his dick get even harder in my hand, and it began to pulse slightly. When it jerked in my hand, and his stomach muscles clenched, I knew he was there. A stream of white cum was shot from the head of his dick and up in the air. I thought for a second that it was going to land in his hair, but it kept falling back to land on my hand as I sped up my stroking. Another volley erupted, but it didn't go as high. I lost track after that, because my own body jerked with the first wave of my orgasm, and before I knew it, I was having the most intense orgasm of my life.
"Wow," was all I could say when the final wave of orgasm rocked me. He was panting and smiling as he looked at the cum that covered both of us.
"That was awesome," he breathed as he lay back against the headboard of his bed and looked at me. "What did you think?"
"It was amazing for me," I replied. "I've never felt anything like it."
"There's more, but I'm too tired to do anything else tonight," he said, reaching under the bed and pulling out a blue towel. He wiped the cum from his hand and arm, and then he ran the towel over his abdomen before tossing it to me with a lopsided grin. "Sorry, if I'd known that this was going to happen, I'd have grabbed two towels this morning."
I wiped myself off as best as I could with the cum soaked towel and wondered what "more" meant. He'd said he was too tired for anything else, so I didn't push it. After I had gotten almost all of the cum off of me, I stretched out beside him as he moved over to allow me room. He put his arm around me, and we slid down in the bed. He turned off the light, and turned onto his side to wrap his other arm around me