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The Awakening: Kevin and Randy
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
AWAKENING
by
Jason Garrey
He's always been part of my life. Actually, I met Kevin when
I was 15. He was a substitute teacher in my sophomore English
class. He made MacBeth come alive for me as no other teacher ever
had, and that was tough to do; I was a real jock in high school.
I was interested in football, skiing, and (maybe) girls - in that
order.
Kevin was "Mr. Bromm" to me in those days. He wasn't a bad-
looking guy. He had a medium build, short-cropped brown hair,
thickly lidded blue eyes, and a mustache. As a teacher, he was a
preppy dresser: sweaters, cords, and loafers - the whole bit.
Kevin was 23 then and was trying to start a career as a
singer. He was damn good. Once, I got a fake ID and went to hear
him at Clive's Place, a glitzy, neon sort of bar, downtown. He blew
the audience away.
In fact, it was that night that I discovered there was
something between us besides the usual teacher-student stuff.
I was sitting off to the side of the bar with my girlfriend.
We were both uneasy - mostly because we were underage. She wanted
to get the hell out of there. I was so dumb, I didn't realize there
were only guys in that bar until Denise told me. Even then, I
didn't think anything of it.
Kevin's performance mesmerized me. His talent was one of the
most exciting things about him. He was a fascinating teacher, for
sure, but in the spotlight, he was electrifying. His voice was rich
and vibrant as he moved from jazz riffs to Broadway ballads.
Watching Kevin move on that stage, I found it hard to believe he
was a teacher in the daytime. He held the mike stand as if he were
holding his dick. He could really put on a show.
Denise freaked. She couldn't figure out why none of the guys
were looking at her. She kept whining, "Randy, please .... I wanna
get out of here right now. Randy ..."
"For Christ's sake," I told her, "I broke my ass to get these
IDs, and I'm gonna see Mr. B. If you don't like it, fuck off." And
she did; she got up and marched out of the bar, no doubt expecting
me to follow.
I didn't.
Denise's exit caught Kevin's eye. Then he saw me and winked.
I didn't know why, but my heart skipped a beat. After his last set,
he joined me at the bar.
"Randy! What are you doing here?" He seemed surprised, but I
think he was really glad to see me. I explained myself as best I
could, whispering about the fake ID.
"You took a hell of a chance," he said. Then, after a few
seconds, he looked directly into my eyes and added, "I'm really
flattered you came."
"And you're really good," I stammered, sensing a change in the
energy between us.
We looked at each other for a long moment. "It seems you're
alone. Do you need a ride home?" Kevin asked.
It occurred to me that I did. I'd come in Denise's car, and
she, of course, had split.
"Let's go," he said. Then he added under his breath, "You've
got school tomorrow."
On the way home, we talked. He wanted to know all about me,
about my plans and aspirations, about Denise and me. He really
seemed interested in me.
Talking to Kevin was so easy. He would look right into my
eyes. He said at one point that, as good-looking as I was, I could
probably have anybody I wanted. No male had ever said anything like
that to me before; it was unnerving.
After Kevin dropped me off at home, I went straight up to my
bedroom, thinking about what he had said. I looked at myself in the
mirror. He was right: I wasn't bad looking. My curly blond hair
would probably turn dark like my dad's someday. I stared into my
deep-green eyes and then traced the cleft in my chin with my
finger. Not bad at all, I thought.
I kept looking at myself. The rest of me was pretty impressive
for my age. I started to strip in front of the mirror. As my shirt
and sweater came off, I ran my hands over my broad shoulders, under
my fuzzy blond armpits, and across my hairless chest.
As I flexed my arms and pecs, I felt my nipples hardening into
little peaks. I touched them; I had never before realized how good
it felt. I had only thought only girls liked to have their tits
played with. As I pulled and pinched them, they got harder and more
sensitive.
Watching my tits harden in the mirror was a real turn-on. My
whole body started to tingle.
My knees trembled as I ran my hands over my flat stomach, down
beneath my belt, and into the front of my jeans. My dick was hard
as a rock, aching to be fred from its confinement in my cotton
Jockey shorts.
It seemed I always had a hard-on in those days, but this one
was more insistent than most. I knew I was headed for a great JO
session, and I was determined to make this one last.
I concentrated on my muscular torso, pulling my stomach taut
as I slowly slipped my jeans and shorts down over my crotch. I ran
my fingers slowly through my pubic hair, a light brown thatch I'd
only had for a couple of years. The hair was starting to grow up
toward my navel, and I traced its path with my hand, finally poking
my index finger in and out of my deep belly button.
My thick, steel-hard rod finally sprang free and slapped up
against my stomach. My angry purple cock head leaked a few drops
of clear, sticky liquid, and I spread the precome around my gaping
piss slit. My breathing became more rapid as I watched myself
making thrusting motions toward the full-length mirror on my closet
door.
I stepped out of my pants and shorts and approached the
mirror, still stroking myself. In the past year or so, my legs,
powerful from skiing, had become downy with blond fur, and I
realized that I had become turned on by looking at them.
I pressed myself against the mirror, licking the image of my
own face and tongue while I pressed my genitals, which now
glistened with precome, against the glass. What a turn-on it was -
two wet cocks, both thick and long, pressing against each other;
two heavy sets of young hairless balls slapping together; and two
powerful pairs of legs trembling with excitement.
I came, and the semen gushed out of me in white jets that
seemed to go on endlessly. I looked down at myself; the force of
my orgasm was so intense that I shot straight up into my own mouth!
At that moment I discovered I actually liked the taste of come; it
was thick, pungent, and sweet. Once I had regained control of my
body, I knelt and licked every last drop of my come off the mirror.
I looked at my face, which was wet with my own come, and I was
confused.
I must have made more noise than I thought I had, because my
mother called up the stairs, "Randolph, what in the world were you
just doing? Are you hammering something into the wall?"
My dick! I wanted to answer, but instead, I called breathlessly,
"No, Mom, everything's OK." I quickly hopped into bed, turned out
the lights, and started thinking about what had just happened. I
didn't know what it meant, but that night I had a wet dream about
my jacking off. and I dreamed that Kevin Bromm was watching me.
In the next three years, Kevin's and my friendship became
deeper and more important to me. We had long been on a first-name
basis and spent much of our free time together. There was very
little time left over for me to date girls although there was no
lack of interested females. But having Kevin seemed to take the
pressure off me.
As my high school graduation approached, Kevin became moody
and unpredictable. At times he was exciting and vivacious; other
times he was silent and brooding, not knowing what to say to me
when were along yet always seeming to have something on his mind.
None of my other male friends had ever acted that way toward me.
He sometimes took me to New York or Boston to converts and
shows, with my parents' blessing. Sometimes we went backstage to
meet friends of his who were performing, and as often as not, we
went to dinner or night spots with them after performances.
We were at Barrymore's in New York, celebrating my 19th
birthday, when I realized I had start facing some facts about
Kevin, about me, and about us. A friend of Kevin's named Ted, had
joined us after the performance of a show he was stage-managing.
Kevin was singing with the pianist at the bar, as lots of aspiring
performers did at Barrymore's.
As Kevin sang, Ted bough me a drink and sat down next to be.
About 30, six feet tall, and very dark, Ted hadn't shaved in days.
"How'd you like to make a little extra cash while you're in the
city, kid? You're 18, right?" Ted's coal-black eyes were on fire.
"Yeah, just," I said. I couldn't figure what he was leading
up to.
"Well, I'm an amateur photographer in my spare time. I don't
often see guys who look as young, straight, and wholesome as you.
I'd make it worth your while."
Straight? What the hell was he talking about? Of course I
looked straight; I was straight.
It wouldn't take too long, Ted said, and it might be fun.
"Sure, why not?" I said. "When?"
"How about now?"
"Year, OK. I guess so. Let me tell Kevin."
Ted gave an odd smirk. "Oh, yes. Do tell Kevin."
It never occurred to me that Kevin would mind. I have never
been more wrong.
He was furious. "Are you out of your mind?" he snapped at me
after he'd finish singing. "I know Ted, Randy. I can't let you do
this. Please."
I was 18, goddamn it; I could do whatever the hell I pleased.
"Who the fuck are you to let me do anything? You don't own me, you
know!" THere were tears in Kevin's eyes as I stormed out with Ted.
At Ted's apartment, we went into his studio, a more or less
empty, cold room except for a sophisticated camera setup. Along the
back wall was a floor-to-ceiling mirror. I figured he just wanted
to do some portrait photos; in fact, that's how the session started
- lots of smiles and wholesome, cute stuff. All the while, Ted was
feeding me beer, and I was feeling very adult, drinking legally and
all.
"It's getting hot as hell in here, Randy," Ted said. "Why
don't you take off your shirt?" I can't believe now that I fell for
that line, but I did. Ted was already down to his briefs and a tank
top. The black hair on his massive chest and legs was matted with
sweat.
"Flex your muscle for me, fella. Let's see what you can do,"
he leered. "I'll bet you got muscles nobody's ever seen you flex
before."
The heat in his voice made my steamy jack-off session three
years ago instantly reply itself in my mind. I remembered Kevin
saying that I could have anybody I wanted. The beer had loosened
my inhibitions, and soon I abandoned myself to the pleasure of my
own body.
Now oblivious to Ted, I ripped off my pants and shorts and
kicked off my boots. I caught sight of myself in the mirror as I
stood before Ted and the camera in nothing but my loose white gym
socks. Ted's camera was riveted to me as he snapped shot after
shot.
My body looked as good as ever, my muscles bulging from three
years of football, my legs even more developed form winters on the
slopes. My hair had, indeed, darkened somewhat, and what had once
been a thatch of soft pubic hair had become thick and wiry,
extending in a line to and around my navel and then fanning out to
lightly cover my chest. I jerked my stiff, dripping meat the mirror
as Ted barked directions.
"Your ass, man. Let me see that smooth ass."
I turned my back to the camera and flexed my buns. Ted was
naked now, his thick, uncut meat throbbing with the pulse of a
machine gun.
"Bend, over, damn it. Show me your soft butthole!"
I planted my legs far apart and bent away from the camera,
spreading the cheeks of my ass with my hands. Then I dropped into
a full, open squat.
Ted gasped, "Holy shit, kid!" He tore the camera off its
tripod and brought it so close to me that he nearly shoved the lens
up my ass. "Yeah, that's it, Randy baby. Play with it. Stick your
finger up that tight, rosy hole. Come on, kid, do it for me.
It never occurred to me to play with my ass before, but I was
game for anything by then. I tried to shove my finger up there, but
it hurt too much. With teasing fingers, I massaged my pulsing pink
asshole for him.
"Do it like this, kid," Ted groaned. Putting down the camera,
he shoved his index finger into his mouth to wet it and then, after
slowly massaging my rectum, slid his finger inside. To my surprise,
my cock stayed as hard as iron, and my balls pulled up as tight as
they could, ready to shoot. After the initial pain, the motion of
Ted's finger felt dizzyingly good. Then he found my prostate.
I couldn't believe the sensation. Without removing his finger,
I turned to ace Ted, my pecker just inches from his face. He
continued to probe my asshole, stroking my meat at he same time.
In seconds, my whole body contracted in an orgasm that I thought
would split me in tow. I was so surprised by the intensity of it
that I screamed. Impaled on Ted's finger, I shot spurt after spurt
all over his face - and his camera. Not thinking, I tried to catch
my come in my mouth as it dripped off his face. I licked it off
his nose, his eyelids, and his chin before I found his lips, white
with my semen. My tongue found his, and I was struck by a new
thought: Jesus! I'm kissing another guy! It felt great.
Ted must have sensed I was a novice at this. "You're really
something, kid," he crooned. "Have you ever tasted anybody else's
come?"
"Uh, no," I said hesitantly.
"I think you'll like mine. Here."
He moved so that his throbbing meat wa all but touching my
lips. He slipped his foreskin back to expose a huge, glistening
cock head. It was impressive. His dick was easily nine inches long
and almost as thick as my wrist. His pendulous balls were moist
with sweat, and his musky scent was intoxicating.
I looked at Ted's imposing cock and realized that I wanted it
- really wanted it. What I really didn't want was Ted.
I wanted Kevin - my friend, my support, my everything. In all
this time, I had never thought of Kevin sexually. I don't know why;
he was sexy enough. He must have loved me all these years and never
told me. Why?
Then I realized a simple truth: I had been underage. He could
have gotten into a lot of trouble if the wrong person had found out
he'd even touched me. I knew he trusted me. The first thing I'd
ever done to make him distrust me was this. He had loved me enough
not to compromise me, or himself, because of my age.
"Ted, shit, I'm really sorry, but I gotta get out of here. I'm
sorry - sorry." I pulled on my clothes and ran out of the
apartment, leaving Ted naked, aroused, and thoroughly bewildered.
Where the hell was Kevin? Would he still be a Barrymore's? did
he take the bus home? New York was a lousy place to lose somebody.
Kevin was standing just outside his apartment building.
"Kevin! God, you waited for me," I stammered, choking back
tears.
"I'll wait for you as long as I have to," Kevin replied
simply. I threw my arms around him and pushed my body tightly
against his.
Kevin looked at me, his eyes full of questions he didn't ask.
Slowly, his arms came up from his sides and encircled my waist. I
don't know what the few passersby on the street thought. I kissed
him hard on the mouth.
Without a word, we went back to our hotel. Once the door was
closed, I took off my clothes, took Kevin's hand and placed it
around my rigid cock. As he began to stroke it, I unzipped his
pants and let them fall around his ankles. As my legs parted and
I guided his fingers into my asshole, I stripped off his sport coat
and shirt and eased him down on the bed.
I had never seen Kevin naked before. He was not built like a
football player or a Greek god, but to me, he was beautiful. He was
an average, firm 26-year-old with a little extra padding in the
middle, a moderately hairy chest and stomach, and solid, muscular
legs. His hips were narrow, and his melon like cheeks were covered
with sandy, downy hair that looked darker in contrast to his
creamy-white skin. I cannot imagine anyone looking more sexually
powerful than Kevin did at that moment.
Trembling all over, Kevin began to breathe in short gasps, and
his thick, hard cock rose out of a patch of dense, dark-brown pubic
hair like a missile about to blast off from Cape Canaveral. His
huge balls were already pulled tightly into his scrotum, and his
legs were spread so far apart that I could see his asshole pulsing
in anticipation.
I straddled him in a sixty-nine position, with my ass and
balls directly above Kevin's mouth. He went wild. He licked my
asshole, thrusting his hot tongue in as deep as he could force it.
I spread my ass cheeks to commodate him fully. He all but inhaled
my cock, taking it all the way down his throat in one thrust.
In seconds, Kevin came. Without his even touching himself,
torrents of come covered him, the sheets, and me. I bent over to
drink his come, and it was hotter and sweeter than I could have
imagined.
That was what I had wanted; Kevin was what I had always
wanted. That night, Kevin came no fewer than six times - sometimes
gently, sometimes fiercely, but always with a fire of love in his
eyes.
Kevin's hand kneaded, caressed, and stimulated me everywhere,
and I knew suddenly what it really felt like to be loved. Hew told
me with his body, with his eyes, and with his words. I was not
merely wanted but loved.
The End
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