My Friend Showed Me How Big It Gets 09: Alex (Patreon)

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Chapter 9: Alex

The alley behind the shop by Alex's house smelled like hot brake dust. A few skateboarding kids were down at the far end like usual, and Alex was already out there, sitting on an overturned milk crate right beside the shop's back door, his back to the brick and his feet planted wide, man-spreading his legs. He still had the buttoned work shirt on with the sleeves rolled past his elbows, jeans, a shop rag folded over his right knee, vape in his left hand. Grease striped up his forearms.

I came up the alley and dropped onto the curb on his left side without saying anything.

That put me about a foot below him, both of us facing out across the alley at the dumpster instead of at each other, my right shoulder about level with his left knee. I put my forearms on my thighs and let my hands hang between my knees. My backpack was still hooked on one shoulder and I left it there.

He hit the vape and blew it out sideways, away from me, the same as always.

A truck went by out at the mouth of the alley and the sound bounced around off the brick and died.

He looked down at the side of my face without moving his head much.

"You look weird," he said.

"Fuck you."

"You do."

I shrugged the backpack off and set it on the curb between my feet, and I let it sit there while he pulled on the vape again.

"We had sex," I said.

He choked in response, a weirdly physical reaction for Alex to have. The whole hit came out of him sideways in one bark and he coughed into his own shoulder, hard, four or five times, his back curling over, and he stayed up on the crate the entire time with the vape held straight up in his left hand and his right hand pressed flat on the rag on his knee.

Neither of us turned. We both kept looking at the dumpster.

He got his breath back and cleared his throat.

"Okay," he said. "Who did what."

"Both."

"Both meaning what, exactly."

"Meaning I did it to him first, that night, at his house. And then Saturday morning he did it to me."

He looked at me like he wanted more. 

"I took it in the ass. And I liked it."

Alex looked forward again and nodded at the dumpster. I kept my elbows on my thighs and my hands hanging between my knees and looked at the same brick wall behind it that he was looking at.

"Did it hurt."

"Yeah. At the start it hurt a lot."

"And then?"

"A minute in, maybe less, I got used to it. He was really patient."

"That's weirdly fast to get used to it."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

He asked about more details, and I sensed him getting turned on. He asked whether Finn made noise. I said he made a lot of it the first time, into the pillow, this high boyish sound that did not match one single thing about his normal vibe, and that the second time it was me making it and Finn had to clamp his hand over my mouth because his parents were in the kitchen.

"His parents were home."

"Both times."

"You're insane," he said, not like an insult.

"Yeah."

"Did you finish."

"He didn't even touch me. It happened anyway."

"That's also rare."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"It was... awesome."

He asked if there was blood, and I said no, and he asked what we used, and I said lotion off his desk, and he said that was disgusting and I said I know. He asked if Finn had done it with a guy before and I said no, and he said how do you know, and I said because he asked me.

He'd been turning the vape over and over in the fingers of his left hand the whole conversation, end over end, like always, and at some point it stopped. He held it dead still against his left thigh.

"How big actually," he said. "Because you've been running your mouth about this since May."

"We measured Saturday."

He turned his head an inch toward me. "Wow."

"He got a tape measure out of his desk. The metal kind."

"And?"

"Over nine inches," I said.

I said it out at the alley, and I heard how it sounded coming out of me, and I did not care.

"Over nine."

"Yeah."

"Wow."

"That's what the tape said. I was holding the tab."

Alex sat back on the crate. His spine straightened up against the brick and both boots slid wider apart on the concrete, and he didn't say anything for a second, which for him is a long time.

"That's like, a forearm," he said, looking down at his arm. "That's not a human size of dick. I've never seen one that big in person."

"He made me do mine after. Six and change."

He chuckled.

"Dick-mogged."

"Yup."

I thought he was enjoying the details, so I went on ever further. I told him about Finn putting his hand flat between my shoulder blades and holding me down, and how he did that to me Friday night after I'd done the same thing to him the night before, and how Finn started laughing while he was actively cumming, wheezing into the pillow with it still happening to him, and how he does that every single time. I was gesturing with my right hand while I talked, loosely, my left hand flat on the concrete of the curb behind my hip.

I got hard during the retelling, and so did Alex.

"He laughs when he cums," Alex said.

"Yeah, every time."

"That's so unhinged."

"I like it," I said, and there it was, out in the alley in front of both of us.

"Let me see the video," Alex said.

I knew which one he meant, Finn shaking his ass and his hard dick around. I'd shown him the first four seconds of it a couple months ago, before any of this, back when it was still a joke.

I pulled the phone out of my right front pocket and rested it face down on my right thigh with my thumb on the back of the case, and I sat there like that.

Then I unlocked it, got the video up, and reached it up and back over my right shoulder without turning my head, and his right hand came down and took it off me from above.

He tucked the vape into his shirt pocket, spread his knees wider, and held the phone in both hands down low between them, screen angled at the concrete and away from the mouth of the alley, sound off. I heard the tiny click of him killing the volume anyway. I kept facing forward with my hands hanging between my knees and listened to him breathe through his nose.

He watched it once.

Then he watched it again. I sensed his face change. 

His thumb scrubbed it back to the start and I heard him run the whole silent length of it a second time. Twenty-some seconds. The part where Finn turns around near the end. He reached down over my right shoulder and put the phone back in my hand the same way it went up, without a word about it. 

Then his left hand came up off his thigh and went straight down the front of his jeans. He didn't bother with the waistband. He pushed the heel of his hand down hard against the denim over his fly and shoved everything in there over to the left, toward his hip, the same direction it had been pointing behind the gym that day, and the denim bunched and creased where his fingers dug in. He did it right there beside my head. His knuckles were maybe six inches from my ear. I heard the fabric drag under his palm, the rough scrape of the seam, and I kept my eyes on the dumpster the entire time and still saw every bit of it out of my peripheral vision.

I was still hard from telling him about Finn, and the phone was warm from his hands. My right shoulder stayed an inch off his left knee. I looked at the rust line along the dumpster lid and breathed slowly out my nose and heard him doing the same above me, heavier than normal, the two of us sitting in the alley like that with the skateboard wheels clacking somewhere down at the far end.

"Okay, yeah," he said. "I get it."

I thumbed the video shut and pushed the phone deep into my right front pocket, and I sat there on the curb with my jaw locked and my hands back between my knees. He'd watched it twice.

Neither of us moved for a bit. The compressor inside the shop kicked on and rattled the wall behind him.

"Why do you care," I said.

I turned my head and looked up at him that time. He didn't turn his.

He took his time with it. He pulled the vape back out of his shirt pocket and set it down on the crate beside his right thigh, and then he picked the rag up off his knee and wiped his palms on it, one and then the other, slowly, working the grease around in the creases of his fingers more than getting any of it off.

"Because I would've done all of it with you first," he said. "If you'd ever asked me to."

I turned my head back to the dumpster. The compressor was still going behind him.

"All of it," he said. "Any of it. That's why."

I felt like he was about to say he was joking, but he didn't. He put the rag back down over his knee and left his hands on top of it.

"You... like me like that?" 

"No," he said. 

"So what the fuck?"

"I don't know. I'm just jealous now."

"It isn't like I've always been into guys," I said. "I told you that already. It's not a guys thing for me. It's just... him."

"I know."

"Like, specifically him. If it was anybody else I don't think any of this would've..."

"I know," he said. "Yeah. I know."

He said it plainly. He picked the rag back up and folded it over once, and then again, squaring the corners, and laid it back over his knee.

I kept looking straight ahead. It felt weird that someone had a problem with me hooking up, or being with someone or whatever, and it was bizarre that it was Alex. 

"I guess I just... never know what's really going on in your head," I said.

"You don't know what's going on in anyone's head."

"What the fuck, dude?"

He paused. "I'm not gonna be weird about it."

"You're already being weird."

A bell went off inside the shop. I don't know what it meant but I assume it meant he had work to do. Alex picked the vape up off the crate with his left hand and hit it once.

Then he stood up off the crate and his knee finally left my shoulder, and the air where it had been felt cooler than the rest of me. He tugged the front of his jeans straight with two fingers and didn't say one word about the boner he had or how it related to his issues. He pulled the rag off his knee, finally done fidgeting with it, and dropped it over his shoulder.

"Tell me how Thursday goes," he said.

"No."

He stepped around behind me and pulled the shop door open and it banged shut behind him, and then it was me on the curb with my backpack between my feet, looking at an empty milk crate and the dumpster and the brick.

My phone buzzed against my right leg.

I dug it out of my pocket and held it in both hands with my elbows still on my knees.

Finn: You bringing the calc book or are we doing this... the hard way

I typed something. It took me a while. It was a full paragraph, several lines, about the alley, about Alex, about the weird stuff he'd said to me.

I read it twice. Then I held the backspace down and watched it eat up the whole message, a few letters at a time, all the way back to nothing.

Me: Sure babe

I sent that.

Finn: Good boy

Finn: Also bring the "pigment table", my dad's gonna ask about it.

I pushed the phone back into my front pocket, hauled the backpack up onto one shoulder, and stood up off the curb.