A Bad Game of Pool
CHAPTER 2
“Jesus fuck…” I heard someone moaning above me. “…that fucking mouth is something else.”
My head bobbed steadily on the man’s cock, and I pulled away to grab the head so a bead of precum could build up. Fuck he tasted good. Then again, they all did. I put my mouth over the tip of his cock and savored the taste. My cock was throbbing at my jock, but I couldn’t touch myself now. I’d do it after.
A low purr rumbled inside the mans chest as I teased the tip of his cock, pulling the foreskin over the head and running tiny circles over his slit with my tongue. I swallowed him down again.
“..mmm-ffffuuuckkkk yes oh god…” he groaned as I slid all the way down. The bedsheet was taught in his fists. I felt him slowly start to rock his hips, his orgasm churning in his balls. I knew it was coming.
“..that’s it boy…. That’s it, just like that…” he cooed, and I locked myself into the rhythm he liked.
“You want this load? Huh?” he panted, and I felt his hand instinctively move to his dick to jerk it off. I batted it away and mumbled yes into his cock. I worked fucking hard for this load.
He thrust deeply and came down the back of my throat, hot and sticky. I pulled him back so he could unload on my tongue and coat my mouth. Fuck I lived for this. He was still hard as a rock as I nursed on it.
The dreams were always like this ever since that night at the bar. Initially tame, but steadily more sexual. And always men. I woke up, and absently fingered the wet spot on my naval. These had been going on for a week like clockwork. I was a different person in these dreams.
I brought my finger up to my nose to smell my cum and took a deep breath of it.
…Fuck it.
I licked my finger. Then sucked it. What the fuck, why did that taste so incredible? It wasn’t long before my naval was clean, and my finger a little pruny from sucking on it. It was exactly like the dream.
Getting up, I fished a pair of sweat pants out from my drawer and pulled it up. There was a pile of pants in the corner of the room I couldn’t fit into anymore. For some reason my ass was getting bigger. I looked at myself in the mirror before heading out to the gym. My ass looked good. It was just really fucking unexpected.
When I got to the gym I saw Stephanie on the treadmill and her face lit up. We always got here at the same time but the dreams were screwing up my routine. I winked at her, eyes purposefully lingering on her body before hitting the free weights.
A while after I caught Stephanie in the mirror behind me and decided to stop for a bit. She glanced at my ass, obviously noticing the change. “I’ve got a booty.” I said, getting ahead of her thought. “I was going to say..” she started, grinning “…where did that come from? Not that I’m complaining.” And she patted my ass playfully. A streak of desire shot up my spine at that, and I found myself stepping close to her. “You change your diet? You smell different too.”
I shrugged and glanced back at the racks thinking about my workout. She was still smiling. “…how much longer are you going to be working out?” she asked, her eyes saying ‘because you should come over.’
“Another hour?” I answered, absently stretching my arm over my head. Her brow furrowed, and she looked at my arm pit. “...okay. Just remember to shower.” She said, walking backwards and grinning. I sniffed my pit. I did smell different.
Not long after into my workout I heard a familiar voice. “Graham?” I heard beside me. I was doing squats and looked over to see a mutual friend of Stephanie and mine. A flash of disbelief went over his face. “That is not the way I remember your ass looking, man! I thought you were someone else!” he laughed and he put out a hand to shake. It turned into a hug and I felt embarrassed getting my sweat on him. Chris’s friendship with Stephanie predated me, and the two would often go to places like Nowhere or Julius together.
“Sorry” I said, grabbing my towel and dabbing myself a bit with it. He shrugged. “Nah, my fault besides I don’t mind it.” He said with a perverted smile. I got on with Chris quickly because the truth was we were very much the same person—just with different sexual preferences—and we both loved getting scandalized reactions from people. He knew he could flirt with me and nothing would happen. My stomach started to knot. Of course, that was before these dreams.
Chris wiped his cheek where my neck touched it and paused. “You change your deodorant or something?” he asked. I answered no. “Well, you smell different, that’s for sure.” He said, turning his body away from me to pick up a bottle of water near the wall and drink it. In a mirror I could swear I saw him sporting a chubby.
He went off to do his own workout and I continued mine.
I was settling into the bench press when he came over beside me. “Lemme spot you.” I heard Chris say from the side. I was getting ready to say no when something clicked in my brain, and some assertive side of me went quiet. “Sure, man.” I answered.
Through the reps a haze was sneaking over me. I could feel the heat from Chris’s workout, smell his sweat, and I was suddenly reminded of my dream last night. I glanced up his fuzzy leg and towards his crotch, and a thrill shot up my spine. A panicked, scared part of me wanted to rack the weight and get out of there.
But then I thought of how many mornings I lay in bed. Smelling my sex on my fingers. How long it took me to eventually taste it. What if I just ran with it?
Chris’s eyes locked with mine and another thrill raced through me. He nervously broke contact and looked aside. My eyes wandered do his crotch and I saw his hardon. With a grunt I pushed out another rep, and Chris helped me rack the weight. He tugged awkwardly at his shorts to keep himself hidden.
I thanked him and took his forearm to lift me up off the bench. Standing face to face with him I felt a rush. He wanted me. Somehow I could feel it. I felt something shift in my head, and it was distinctly like being in one of my dreams. A detachment that gave me permission to be someone else. And in my dreams I was a scandal. Without thinking I licked my lips and saw his eyes dart down.
“Something is different.” He began. We stood there, not moving. “…you’re different.”
I cracked a smile and headed toward the changerooms. I didn’t need to glance behind me to know he was following me.
My heart was racing as I walked into one of the stalls, Chris closing it behind him. His eyes were wild with desire, but there was doubt painted across his features also. “Are you sure about this?” he asked, and I lunged at him, kissing him.
My hands tugged at his waistband and he turned around to face then wall. He pressed his ass against me, and I spun him back around. “You wanna do it at mine instead?” he whispered, keeping an eye on the door. Ignoring him I fell on my knees, buried my face in his naval and breathed deeply. He lifted his shirt and I kissed at the skin there tasting the salt. Chris let out a sigh, and I yanked at the waistband until his shorts slid down and fell to his ankles.
I kissed lower, and saw his cock outlined in his briefs, a stain at the head. Some part of me rallied—this wasn’t a dream, this was real life—but the scent of his cock numbed any rational thought. All I knew was that this felt good. And I was tired of imagining it. Tired of dreaming it. I wanted the real thing.
My tongue lapped at the stain on the briefs, and at the taste my mouth watered. A shudder ran through me and I let out a moan. “Shhhh…!” Chris whispered, glancing over the top of the stall door. I looked up at him and his eyes were wild. A mix of desire and total disbelief that this was happening.
My drool coated his briefs, Chris’s cock straining at the fabric. With my mouth I steered his head down his leg, and with my teeth lifted the hem of his briefs so his cock could peek through. A bead of precum was forming over the slit, and I stared at it transfixed, wanting it to get bigger before I tasted it. When the bead was about to drip I took him in my mouth and he let out a grunt. My tongue began to work on just the head and it wasn’t long after that I had Chris frantically peeling his wet briefs off his body.
I panted, eyes half lidded as he brought his cock against my cheek. My cock was aching terribly in my briefs, leaking through my sweats. Another bead formed over the slit and I took him in again, only this time I let him down my throat until I had buried my nose in his pubes. I felt his hot cock filling my throat, and I considered for a moment why I wasn’t gagging. I willed myself to swallow, and my throat gripped and massaged his cock. Chris let out a moan. “What the fuck.” He rasped, and I swallowed again. “You… how…?” he stammered, and I pushed my face hard against him, butting him against the wall, fighting for more of his length inside my throat. This went on for a while, me reliving these dreams. All the times I sucked cock. The men in my dreams were always stunned. Always in awe of what my throat could do. But it’s what It was made for.
“—I’m gonna… I’m close…!” he panted, and I felt him tap my shoulder—a courtesy—then try to pry me off his hips. I pressed harder into him, the muscles in my throat massaging and working his length while I slid his shaft steadily in and out of my throat. He groaned, and I felt his cock shoot. I let him slide out and I caught a few spurts inside my mouth and across my lips. My balls churned and I came inside my pants, while my mouth still slowly sucked on his cock, savoring the flavor. I rubbed his head against my scruff and Chris winced, pulling back.
Steadily, the lust-filled haze was lifting, and anxiety crept into my stomach again. What the fuck was I doing?! I stood up, legs almost cramping. “…Graham what the fuck was that?” he panted. He made an intimate move to touch my face, and I jumped back a little. He frowned. “Sorry—Graham are you alright?”
“I’m just…” I started, grabbing a towel to hide the stain on my sweats. “…I’m just trying to figure something out.” I moved to the door handle, but he grabbed my forearm gently.
“Yo that’s cool—it’s cool.” He said, and it felt like a man trying to talk someone off a ledge. “…Listen I won’t say anything. But does Steph know?”
The silence stretched for a few moments. “I gotta go.” And I took off, grabbing my bag and carrying it so my cum stain wouldn’t show. I raced home.
Getting into my room I peeled off my clothes and felt my mess sticky and crisp against my skin. I wiped it off with another pair of briefs beside my bed. Chucking them aside, I jumped into bed and checked my phone.
It was filled with messages from Stephanie.
“Hey stinky, you done yet?”
“Should I start heading over?”
Missed Call from Stephanie Meyers
“Graham do I need to spell it out for you.”
Missed Call from Stephanie Meyers
“Call me when you get this.”
I couldn’t deal with this now, so I put my phone aside. I felt more cum on my naval, and I crawled to the side of my bed to fish another piece of old clothing to wipe it off. The movement made me aware of a wetness in my crack, and I leapt out of bed nervous I was going to make worse a mess.
In the bathroom I wiped myself to check, but it was clean. Just wet. I tossed the toilet paper aside and explored with my finger. A tingle flittered across my hole as my finger glided across my skin. It was slick. I played with my hole a little more, and my body shook.
What the fuck had Cort done to me?
Looking at myself in the mirror I saw my ass was bigger. But now my ass got slick when I got turned on. What else had he done to me, and how?
I fished the pair of jeans I was wearing back at Nowhere when the incident with Cort happened and tried putting them on. Turning sideways it was almost a joke. There was no way these would fit me. I felt something in my back pocket and fished out a matchbook with the club name “Nowhere” on it. My heart leapt—he must have put it there at some point. I opened it:
“917-555-3801 —Cort”
Fuck it.
I grabbed my phone and dialed.