First Time I Compared Dicks With The Neighbor Boy 02: Peanut Butter Cup (Patreon)

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Chapter 2: Peanut Butter Cup

A couple days later, I took the trash cans down to the curb after dinner and the grey house had a light on in the front bedroom over the porch. I stood at the end of my own driveway with a hand on each can and looked up at that light for a while, then went back inside. The next night I walked the same stretch with nothing in my hands and no reason to be out there, and then I kept going. I got all the way past the mailbox before I turned around at the corner and came back on the other side of the street.

I went back inside and watched a movie with my mom, and did not follow a single scene of it because I kept replaying the strange event at Clark's house, the wood cold under my palms, the taste of his juice in my mouth for the rest of the day, how good it felt when he had his hand on me and the noises I made.

I didn't text him about the party he had mentioned, but I thought about it constantly in the back of my head.

Saturday afternoon my mom came through the kitchen with her hair done and a bottle of wine under her arm and a canvas bag that was clinking with plastic as she walked.

"Are those dice?" I asked.

"It's a game," she said. "Bunco. Diane's putting out a whole spread."

"Diane?"

"Clark's mom." My stomach sank. Mom checked herself out in the microwave door reflection. "Why don't you see if Clark wants to hang out again too. Or did you two not hit it off?"

"We did, I guess."

"Awesome," she said as she headed out.

"When are you back?"

"Late," she said, and the storm door banged behind her.

My phone buzzed on the counter maybe ten minutes later.

Clark: They're going to be going all night. My mom made a spread and everything

Clark: Guys are getting here around seven

Me: Ok

Clark: Come at seven

I ate a sandwich standing up at the counter and showered even though I had already showered that morning, and I put on a clean shirt and shorts, and my good deodorant. And then I sat on my bed with my phone, scrolling reels until it was almost seven.

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I came up the driveway of the grey house right as a car pulled in behind the truck, and two guys got out of it yelling before either door was shut.

"Clark! Clark, come carry my bag, I'm a guest!"

I later learned that was Jax. He was my height, built compact like an athlete, blonde with a fade haircut, a hard line shaved into it, and a bag over his shoulder with something heavy in the bottom of it. The other one, Brent, came around the hood with his phone up filming the house, narrating quietly to nobody.

Clark came out the front and down the steps in the same gym shorts he seemed to own several pairs of.

"Bro, what's your mom up to tonight?"

"Playing dice with friends."

"They're getting hammered, then."

The third one got out of the back seat and shut the door with his hip. He was bigger in the chest, a plain white tee that sat tight on his arms, and a sort of plain face. He came over and put his hand out to me, which nobody else had done.

"Rhys," he said.

I introduced myself back as I shook his hand. He held on for an extra second, then let go and looked at the garage.

"Peanut butter cup!" Brent yelled from behind his phone. "Say hi to the neighbor!"

"I did," Rhys said.

Nobody explained it. Jax laughed at a joke he had clearly heard many times and Brent panned the camera over to the truck, and I stood there feeling slightly out of the loop, bombarded with an existing, tight-knit, rowdy friend group.

"What's in the bag," Clark said.

Jax swung the bag off his shoulder, dug into the bottom of it, and held something up over his head with both hands like the Stanley Cup.

"Behold," he said.

"Put it down, my mom is inside," Clark said, and then he grabbed for it anyway.

Jax twisted it away from him and there it was in his hand, a fleshlight, the clear kind, the whole sleeve transparent so you could see the ridges and chambers molded down the inside of it, barely cloudy at all, like it had hardly been touched. A bottle of lube came out of the bag after it and he tucked that under his arm.

"Where did you even get that," I said.

"Found it under my little brother's bed last night," Jax said. "That little freak."

"You're just gonna use your brother's fleshlight."

Jax shrugged with both shoulders. "He'd probably think it was funny."

"Has anybody ever used one of these?" Brent said from behind the phone.

"Not me," Jax and Clark said in unison.

"Me neither," I added.

Rhys had his hands in his pockets and he was watching me instead of the toy, and when I looked over he did not look away, like he wanted to tell me something.

"Basement," Clark said, interrupting my train of thought. "Side door, not through the kitchen, unless you want your cheeks pinched by a bunch of drunk ladies."

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The basement was half finished, carpet down and drywall up and no trim on anything yet, and the back wall had a sectional couch against it, facing a TV still sitting on top of its own box. Cords ran across the floor to a power strip. There was a utility sink under the stairs and a folding table with a case of Mountain Dew on it.

Jax and Brent took the long side of the sectional and spread out over three cushions between them. Clark dropped onto the short end where the couch turns and put his heels up on a plastic tub.

Rhys went to the far corner and sat down and put his hands on his knees. He still had his shoes on. Everybody else had kicked theirs off by the stairs.

That left the middle cushion, which put me between Clark on my right and Rhys on my left with about a foot of couch on either side.

"Do you...do the dew," Jax said to me, smirking. It took me a second to realize what he was joking about.

"Yeah," I chuckled, "I'll take one."

He threw one at my chest underhand and I caught it and it foamed up when I cracked it, spilling a little on my shirt.

"Who's a messy boy?" Brent said to me like he was talking to a puppy dog, making me chuckle.

Jax leaned forward and started messing with the remote and the HDMI on the back of the TV. For a while it was just five guys in a basement drinking soda and arguing about which input was the right one.

Then Jax got it working, and what came up on the screen was not a regular movie. My suspicions were confirmed when a big pair of tits appeared on the screen, two big dicks touching them from either side.

He did not announce it or make a bit out of it. The screen went from a blue input error to a porn vid, and the sound came on loud, and Jax turned it down two notches and set the remote on the arm of the couch.

Brent pushed his shorts down without standing up, just lifted his hips off the cushion and shoved them and his underwear down to his knees in one motion, and sat back. Jax did the same a few seconds later. Clark did it next to me without any ceremony at all. All of them still had their shirts on, which made me do a double take against the group, five guys in t-shirts on a couch with their shorts bunched at their knees, dicks on display and getting hard.

I don't know why, but I was expecting a slew of giant cocks to match Clark's. But among them, they were mostly about my size, from what I could tell. Not small, but not monster cocks.

I pulled my shorts down too, on a delayed response after them. I lifted up, pushed down, sat back, trying to seem as casual as they were.

Rhys did not follow along.

Jax slid forward to the front edge of his cushion, elbows on his knees, and reached down into his bag on the floor.

"I brought it. I'm going first."

He pulled the fleshlight out and turned it over in his hands twice, like it was the first time he actually inspected it. He uncapped the bottom and flipped the lube open with his thumb and squeezed a long line of it straight down into the opening, then worked his dick into it quickly and started moving it up and down on himself, and he narrated the whole thing at conversational volume the entire time.

"Oh, that's cold. That's very cold. Is it supposed to be that cold. Okay, no, we're fine, we're fine now. Okay. Oh no. Oh, this is the real thing. Fuck I'm gonna cum already."

I could see him in there. That part was weird, but cool at the same time, that the thing was see-through, and his dick was right there inside the plastic, the head pushing up against the ridges and going flat and pink every time he shoved in, the lube smearing out in front of it in a wave. It looked like something in a jar at a science museum. It made his dick look bigger when it was inside it.

Brent got off the couch onto the carpet and lay on his side and filmed it horizontally, holding his phone with both hands and framing it up like he was shooting a nature documentary.

"Get my face in it," Jax said.

"No."

"Get my face in it, pussy."

Jax went a couple minutes like that and then handed it off, and it moved down the couch. Brent took it from the floor without getting up and squirted more lube into it, and I watched his go in from a foot away, a cloudy, wet shape sliding up and down under the clear wall of the sleeve. 

"It's so warm," he said when he bottomed out the first time.

"You're welcome," Jax said, smirking, holding his hard dick, which had taken on an angry, dark red shade.

"Gross," Brent replied without looking at him.

Then he passed it over to Clark.

"Damn, he's gonna stretch it out," I said, making the guys laugh.

"King cock over here," Jax added, and Clark pressed up against it quickly, exhaling roughly when he popped the head in. He worked it quietly for a bit, watching himself and not the TV at all, with his head pressed back against the couch cushion. I watched him wax the big pole of his, without even pretending to watch the TV, that whole thick length of him filling the sleeve up completely, so much of him in there that the ridges inside it stretched out flat and the plastic bulged wider around him than it had for the other two. His head hit the far end of the chamber on every push and mashed against it, wide and purple through the plastic. And while he fucked it, it made little sounds as the air escaped that the other guys hadn't produced. 

Then he took it off, and held it out without looking at me.

I took it.

Nobody asked me if I wanted to. I got the bottom cap off and sat back into the cushion and angled the sleeve down toward my hips and slid it on, and it was warm from three guys and slippery with everybody's lube and it gripped me hard enough that my heels pushed into the carpet.

"Ohh," I said. "That's crazy."

"Right?" Jax said, from three cushions away, not looking over. "It's like a pussy."

"I wouldn't know," I admitted.

I looked down at myself in it and that nearly ended it right there, my own dick sitting in the middle of the clear tube, the head squashed up against a ridge, the shaft shiny with lube, every vein visible under the plastic like an anatomy diagram. I worked it slowly because I knew if I went quickly I would finish first, in front of four random people I had barely met. 

I stopped moving the toy, and put my eyes on the TV without paying attention to one frame of it. I turned my head, and Clark was a foot to my right with his own hand moving on himself and one eyebrow up, watching me do it.

He did not say anything as I let my dick soak in the warm toy, throbbing, not moving it up and down. He gave me the eyebrow and then leaned over across the foot of couch between us.

"Do it for real," he said suddenly, after I hadn't stroked myself for a minute, and he put his hand flat on the top of the tube and shoved it down hard onto me, all the way, until the base of the silicone part smushed against my pelvis.

He gave it a couple strokes, up and down, his fingers wrapped around the outside of the tube with mine, and that was all it took. Two pulls from a hand that was not my own and I finished, in front of four people, barely ninety seconds after I shoved into it. I squirted white juice up into the toy and everybody watched it happen, the first shot hitting the far end of the chamber and running back down over my own head, the ridges filling up cloudy, my heels digging into the carpet and my ass lifting off the cushion while Clark held it down on me with his palm.

"Oh, shit," Jax said. "He's done."

I pulled it off and the whole mess came out with it, my cum and a bunch of lube sliding down out of the opening and onto my crotch, running down into my pubes and the crease of my thighs and balls, and soaking into the cushion under me, basically wetting my ass. Brent had his phone up, documenting my mess before it stopped running down my body.

"Bro, that smell," Brent said, taking a big, theatrical whiff as if it were pleasant. "That's pungent."

"That's a fresh load," Jax said. "Give it here."

He reached over and took it out of my hand gently and shoved himself back into it immediately, still wet with all my output, and worked it right down onto himself.

"I don't care if it's your cum," he said, looking at the TV. "That's just more lube."

I was still hard, completely, standing straight up out of the mess on my lap, hovering over my stomach, and I was sitting there with my shorts at my knees and my thighs sticky, watching Brent fuck my cum around the sleeve, white foam starting to froth at the base of his dick.

Rhys leaned over toward me, quietly, so only I would hear it.

"So you're done now, or...?"

"Not even close," I said quickly. "That barely counted for me."

He had a nervous smile on him, the only one on the couch still with all his clothes on, shoes and all. I stayed looking at him for a second, trying to figure out what he was asking.

While I was looking at Rhys, Clark took my right hand off my knee and brought it over to his dick, pressing my fingers closed around it. He never looked at me while he did it. He was watching Jax and the TV.

So I stroked him with my right hand, that heavy thick length of him hot and wet from the sleeve in my fist, and I got my left hand on myself in the cum and lube pooled on my lap and I stroked with that too. The toy had moved back down the couch to Brent now, and he was on his knees on the carpet facing the TV with his back to us, with his shirt still on and his shorts around his ankles. He had a very perky, bubbly butt that I had not noticed before under his shorts, and I watched it tense and release as he sped up his pace on the toy, the two round cheeks clenching hard and relaxing back and forth, over and over, dimpling on the sides every time he pushed in.

Clark's hips started pushing up into my hand. I matched his pace with the one on myself.

This night was just getting started.