Ryan Mitchell is considered the Top Dog of the Pack, the Rooster of the Walk, the Champion of the Field among our high school’s inner circle. Already at eighteen years of age, he is being called a real man’s man in the town’s two newspapers. His relaxed good looks, athletic prowess, academic skills, and hypnotic charisma are what makes him the object of lust for females, both young and old. And even though I was in most of Ryan’s classes during the past fours years of school, and lived only a couple of houses away in the same neighborhood, he took very little notice of me, other than the usual “Yo..what’s up!” I guess that’s because he’s always been the extroverted Colin Farrell type, and I’ve always been the introverted Toby McGuire type myself. I’ve used those particular references mainly because Ryan Mitchell’s got that devil-may-care Colin-look, and I’ve got that nerdy Toby-look going for me. So we’ve never really clicked, socially. Well, that is, until that night I found myself at home, alone.
Yup. My parent’s had flown to Idaho for several days to attend a convention, trusting me for the first time to fend for myself in the house alone. I had turned eighteen a few days earlier, and they were pretty much testing my adulthood. Anyway, it was around 7:30 PM, and I had settled down in dad’s easy chair in the den to attack a Conan Doyle book for the evening, when I heard the frantic ringing of the doorbell. Going to the door and swinging it open, my heart started to thunder like a buffalo stampede. To my surprise, there stood Ryan Mitchell! His tee-shirt had been ripped and his mouth was bleeding. In general, he looked really out of it.
“H-Hey, man! Hey man, you gotta help!” he gushed in hoarse, hushed tones, forcing himself past me into my hallway.
“Ah…er....What’s wrong..?”, I asked, closing the front door behind us.
“My dad, man! He’s gone nuts!”, growled Ryan Mitchell, as his contorted, handsome features only grew more sexy, “He’s been beating me up since I was a kid…!”, he continued, “But, tonight, man, he’s really tripped-out. You gotta let me stay here, ...even if it’s only for a couple of hours! Huh?”
I had never seen this proud, self-possessed kid so scared. It was almost as if he had, psychologically, regressed ten years. He seemed to be an eight-year-old boy afraid of the boogey man. He was, literally, gorgeous! I wanted to protect him, to save him from what this monster that was chasing him. But, then, what if his “nutso” dad came charging down to my house, tearing it apart, brick by brick, looking for him. Cripes! Then, it would be my dad’s turn to be kicking my ass, when Monday afternoon came around.
“Naw, Jay, he’d never come looking for me here..”, began Ryan, wiping drops of blood from his bleeding mouth, when I presented him with that possibility, “he saw me ride off with Derek and the guys…and he’s probably on his way over there now. He’d never think I had back-tracked over here!”
Seeing this high school love-god looking so vulnerable, so human, and standing here in my own house next to me, all sweaty and begging for my assistance, was something similar to what going off to Valhalla must be like. My particular angst with the “dad situation” being solved, I guided this six-foot paragon with the shock of chocolate brown hair and piercing dark blue eyes into the power room off the hallway.
I helped him clean-up the scratches on his neck and shoulders, and swab out the cut inside his mouth from the fist-blow to his cheek. And what a gorgeous cheek it is.
After which I led him into the den where I had been sitting. Ryan Mitchell spent the next two hours unburdening the horrors of the physical and psychological abuse of his childhood and adolescence. Eventually it appeared as though we had been bosom buddies all our lives. And during the last hour of his confessional he was sitting at my feet looking up at me with imploring, electric-blue eyes, as I sat there in Dad’s old easy chair. Yup, he sure was beautiful. Those large, often very pained, eyes only served to magnify the love I felt for this perfect creature. I couldn’t even begin to imagine just how psychotic his father must be to want to harm such a magnificent human creation. And, also, it was difficult to imagine, that I, James “J.J.” Anderson, was sitting here playing shrink to such a magnificent human creation.
Around 10:15 PM it was pretty apparent that he was beginning to flag. Leaning back against my dad’s chair, his mind would often wander and he would go quiet and just stare blankly; then catch himself and yawn. He kept reaching into the box of Kleenex I had given him, pulling out a fresh tissue to dab at his cut. He was totally exhausted, emotionally and physically. And realizing that he was still in pain, I led him to the upstairs bathroom and gave him one of my mom’s super powerful migraine pain capsules.
We stood there in the brightly lighted bathroom, his seemingly sensitive, dark-blue eyes blinked in the radiance. Looking down at the floor, becoming almost school-boyishly shy, he asked could he sleep on my couch for the night. Said he’d be no trouble at all, and would be up and gone in the morning with no noise at all. I told him it would be no problem at all for him to stay in the guest room, instead.
Leading him down the hall into the guest room, I turned down the bedspread and told him to get some sleep. I then returned downstairs to get at least an hour’s reading of the Hounds of the Baskervilles.
Around 12:00 AM I went up to the guest room to check on him. Peering into the room, I noticed he lay there sprawled on the bed sound asleep, breathing heavily. Occasionally the heavy breathing would succumb to sporadic snoring. At least he had found presence of mind to take off his shirt before sleep, and my mom’s meds, had overtaken him. I stood there at the door and smiled. He looked so damned angelic in sleep. I walked the distance to his bed and looked down at him. DAMN, he smelled good. I had never gotten such a close look at his body without fearing that he, or someone else, might be judging me for ogling. His 6-pack was awesome…I’m sure even Colin Farrell would be jealous of it. Yup, I found it totally impossible to resist reaching down and feeling his chest. He was so out-of-it he didn’t even notice.
Further emboldened, I went ahead and removed his shoes and socks, and grabbed the sides of his jeans and pulled them off. His boxers started to slip down with the jeans. I quickly halted pulling down the jeans long enough to pull the boxers back up; but not before noticing, and smelling, those lush dark pubes. I had to stop. Yup, I had to stop. Wouldn’t this too be a form of abuse to do this to him when he lay there so vulnerable? Swiftly, I completed tugging off his jeans, but still saw his pecker peeking out of his boxers. It was perfectly shaped, with a nice “helmet”. I looked up at Ryan’s face. There was no sign of awakening, as his perfect upper body continued to rise and full in heavy breathing. I pulled him into the center of the bed, and tugged the sheets up over him and left the room.
My rigid cock was painfully throbbing. I quickly ran to the bathroom and took an ice cold shower. Yup, that shocked the shit out of me. Then I went back down to the den and tried to do a few more chapters of Conan Doyle. But I still felt summoned back to the guestroom, being drawn there by some unyielding, magnetic force. I decided to just go up to my room, whack off, and go to sleep. On my way to my room, I had to pass the guestroom, and as I walked by, I peered in on Ryan. He was fast asleep, in the same position I had left him in, minutes ago. I stood there for what seemed like eons before deciding to take another peek. Hey, just looking wouldn’t hurt, right?!
I walked the distance to his bed again. Lifting the sheet, I stared at his boxers. There was a nice bulge where his cock and balls were nicely nestled within their cotton home. Gently, I felt the hairs on his leg and enjoyed his masculinity for a while before deciding to get a good look again. After checking that he hadn’t awakened, I parted the fly of his boxers and moved fabric so I could see better - the hallway light was my only viewing aid. Damn, it was an excellent dick; as big as I had expected. I was reverently admiring that superior phallus when my hand, seemingly of its own free will, went inside the fabric confines and started stroking the head of the cock. It felt like silk.
Then I decided I wanted a better view and pulled the boxers down. Yup, he sure had perfect balls. I played with those for a while and then went back to his dick. I traced up and down its silky shaft enjoying all the sensations, and the possible risk. I don’t know how long I was doing this when I noticed he was getting hard. Of course, I continued to tease and fondle it as it elongated into its full, powerful length. I gently played with it, mostly using my fingertips, feeling the veins running along the shaft, enjoying the mixture of soft and hard. My cock raging, my head swirling, my heart thundering, I wrapped my fingers around Ryan’s shaft and slowly began to jack him off. Part of me could hear him mumbling something or moaning. At that moment, I didn’t care which; I was totally swept away by my mesmeric, over-lording lust.
With each passing second, my mouth and lips were being drawn to the pulpy head of that cock. It was calling me, beckoning me, begging me to please, please, please taste it. Slowly I leaned down and took the leaky, pre-come soaked head of his raging dick into my watering mouth, feeling his body respond. I looked up at him, and it looked as if he were having one helluva dream. My whole body smiled at that sight and I rapidly went back to my jubilant task. I moved up and down his shaft, filling my long-waiting mouth with Ryan Mitchell’s rigid rod. I moved my greedy mouth to his sweaty balls. Deciding his boxers were in the way, I removed them and spread his legs wide. Hungrily, I sucked his huge gonads into my mouth, while at the same time I hotly massaged his dick. Then, slowly my hot, watering mouth returned to that splendid dick. I sucked him deep and long, hearing his breathing slightly change, felt his muscles wildly twitching beneath my hands, and then felt his cock swell an inch longer and explode its copious treasure inside my expecting mouth and throat. Greedily and happily, I swallowed it all, licking up every trace. Then I lovingly watched him sleep a few minutes more as his big dick slowly shriveled back to flaccid. Mentally, I burned the whole tableau into my brain, fully realizing that this chance would never come again.
Yup, I suppose I should have felt guilty, but I didn’t. I tried putting his boxers back on, but gave up after a few failed attempts. I just covered him back up with the sheet, and departed the room.
The next morning I instantly sprang out of bed when I awoke at 7:30am, fearing that I had missed Ryan’s departure. Racing down the hall, I peeked into the guestroom. And there he was…still out cold. Oh, wow, too cool, I thought, as I headed for the bathroom to take a shower.
After adjusting the water temperature, I got in and shampooed my hair. And as I began soaping up my body, I heard the bathroom door creak. I stopped, and listened intently while searching through the steam. On the other side of the glass door of the shower I could see someone in the bathroom. “Ryan?...is that you?”
Suddenly the glass door opened, and in stepped Ryan, naked as when I had left him, wearing only that famous impish grin and a HUGE erection. “Howdy, Jay!”
“Uhm, Hi, What are you doing!”
“I was hoping for some more!”
“S-S-Some more…?” I stuttered, my face burning red with embarrassment; feeling pretty much like a dirty old man rapist.
“Yeah......'some more', you sly little bitch!”, returned Ryan, laughing, his dark blue eyes flashing radiantly with contented playfulness. His hands reached down towards my hips and pull me closer to him. I followed him as he pulled me over.
Our shower has two seats for lack of a better term. Never really paid much attention to them. Mostly just used them to rest shampoo bottles on, but I found myself silently blessing the person who thought of these seats.
Smiling the whole time, Ryan’s eyes lustfully locked on mine, almost hypnotizing me, as he sat down and spread his legs. I leaned down and his hand found the back of my head, as he said, “Come on, Jay-Jay, do your magic!”
I knelt down, the hot water beating on my back, my heartbeat in my throat. With Ryan staring lewdly at me, I opened my mouth and joyously took that beatific cock into my mouth once again. I heard Ryan hiss “Yesssssss” as I begin to work. Last night I was gentle, tentative, slow, because I was cautiously labouring within the confines of stealth. But this morning, all limitations have been abolished, and I am consumed with an outrageous thirst, hunger and greed for this perfect body that I have loved from afar for so long. Ravenously, I devoured Ryan’s cock, his hand encouraging me in my up-and-down motion. He begins to pump my mouth, his hips moving in rhythm with my hungry bobbing. Ryan is earnestly “fucking my face”, one hand holding my head in place while his body lifts up off the seat to slide his rod in-and-out of my salivating mouth. As his pumping becomes more urgent, I prepare myself for what I know is soon going to happen…..and in no time at all my mouth and throat are rewarded with repeated loads of my dream lover’s thick milk.
When he finally finishes with his abundant unloading, I rest my head on his thigh, while he gently plays with my hair. “Wow, thanks Jay”, he said, to which he added, “Can I stay here with you today? I think I’m gonna want “some more” from you all day long. I have never let myself feel this close to anybody before in my life.”
He’s got to be kidding, was the first thought that crowded my mind. This is all too unreal. Once I was only a faint shadow in his very full and exciting life, and now he’s trying to pretend that I’ve become the only one in his life that he wants to spend a whole Saturday with. He’s got to be kidding me; he just can’t be serious!, I thought. But raising my head, I looked into that powerfully sincere face and realized that he couldn’t have been any more serious.
Grateful, I find myself nodding yes as I grew aware of my hands lovingly playing with his balls, warmly caressing them, as his once semi-erect dick rapidly awakens to its dominant and demanding state, again. It is then that I silently utter a prayer, thanking mom and dad for leaving me at home alone for several days. Yup!
The Badpuppy.com model in these pictures is Greg
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