("`-''-/").___..--''"`-._ `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