Blowjob From My Gay Friend 02: When It Rains, It Pours (Patreon)

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Chapter 2: When It Rains, It Pours

I woke up in Teddy's bed before he did, his thigh still warm against mine and the Switch dead on the floor by his hand, and I let myself out without waking him. He didn't text me. I didn't text him. By the afternoon I was at the rec center with my headphones in, and I felt great.

I always lift better the day after I get laid, and apparently for my psyche this counted. My shoulders sat lower, I didn't check my phone between sets. I loaded an extra forty-five plate than normal and just lifted it. The "laid" part had been a guy with my dick in his throat, and my body apparently didn't know the difference, because I hit a bench PR in the first twenty minutes and didn't even make a snapchat post about it. My ego was satisfied and my feelings were already elevated.

Teddy got there just a bit after me. I saw him at the squat rack on the far side of the floor in the same white tee he had slept in, his big ass loaded up under a bar, and he saw me at the same second I saw him. He nodded. I nodded. He turned back to his set and I turned back to mine. Nobody in that room would have guessed where his mouth had been the night before, and he didn't look over again.

Marcus was on the bench next to mine for the back half of my workout. He lifts with me sometimes when Teddy doesn't drag me in. He was a junior, club rugby, dark-skinned black guy and built like a monster truck. His traps looked like they were going to eat his head. His chest was huge and broad and girls loved him. He talked nonstop between sets, and brought up his dick a lot. 

Every group chat he's in has gotten the speech. "You don't understand. It's a problem. Girls tap out." I had always treated that like I treated any guy's dick talk, basically as a number he made up.

He spotted me on my last set, and when I racked it he leaned over the bar.

“You look loose today,” he said.

“I slept well.”

He laughed.

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The campus gym showers were open stalls in two facing rows with no curtains on any of them, an architectural decision made by somebody who hated us. I was rinsing off alone. Eight stalls down my side, all of them empty, and my dick was hanging heavy and half-awake under the hot water, and I was just starting to think about spanking my meat, when Marcus walked in with his towel over one shoulder and took the shower directly across from mine.

He got his water on and started soaping his chest facing me, which was a choice.

I kept my eyes at his shoulder level and washed my hair, and I still caught him looking down at me twice. The first time he glanced back up. The second time he didn't. He kept his hand moving over his chest and kept his eyes exactly where they were, and he wanted me to see him do it.

I don't know what he was picking up on. Maybe I was standing differently. Maybe getting your dick sucked shows on you the next day, like a sunburn. Whatever it was, he was reading it off me from across the tile and he wasn't hiding that he was looking at me like I was a snack.

My dick started filling under the water. I turned my hip toward the wall, not nearly far enough, and my ears burned, and I could sense Marcus was still watching me, taking his time with his soap.

"Hey," he said.

"Hey," I said back, and didn't turn my hip another inch.

My eyes finally dropped down to the meat between his legs. Maybe the first time I ever intentionally looked at another dude's dick, my instincts breaking. He had not been lying in the group chat. It hung halfway down his thigh, dark and thick as my wrist, the head heavier than the rest so it swung when he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. I had never seen one that size on a real person. It was porn-sized.

And it was moving. Not swinging, but growing. While I watched, it thickened and lifted off his thigh in slow stages, the head swelling darker, until it stood out from him at an angle with the water running off the tip, and by the time I dragged my eyes back up to his face it was pointing straight at me and he was smiling.

I had done that. Me, with shampoo still running down the back of my neck. My straight ass had made a guy that size hard from across the room, and that got me hard too.

I turned my hip back square to him. Hiding it had started to feel kind of stupid.

Marcus looked down at me, looked back up, and raised his eyebrows once.

I wrapped my hand around myself, not even pretending to wash myself. I stroked slowly, twice, and watched him watch me do it, the water running over my knuckles. He didn't touch himself. He stood under his spray with all that pointing at me and his eyes traveled down to my hand and back up to my face and down again, and every trip they made, my dick jumped in my fist.

I had never gotten off on being watched in my life. Girls looking at me was nice, I liked it, but it never got me any harder than I already was. This did. Marcus standing across the tile with his dick up because of me was doing more than my hand was doing. A large, muscular stud liked me, or at least my body.

He turned around finally, and I got to see the other half of him.

His ass was a bubble butt shelf. Two dark, round, dense mounds that sat up high off his thighs and jumped separately when he shifted foot to foot under the water, all of it hard muscle. Teddy's was big and juicy. Marcus's looked like he was made of metal. He arched his back under the spray and stuck it out, and he held it there, and I stroked myself and watched it carefully, the water sheeting off those two curves, the crease deepening when he bent to rinse his shins, the muscle in each cheek flexing when he came back up.

I kept stroking.

He turned back around, saw my hand still on myself, and walked out from under his water. He crossed the tile between the two rows, wet feet slapping, dick swinging heavy and hard in front of him, and stepped into my stall, and I backed up until my shoulder blades hit the wet wall. He was close enough that the head of his dick bumped my stomach.

"Marcus," I said, just acknowledging what was happening.

He just put a hand around my back, feeling up and down. I kept my back against the wet wall, one hand still wrapped around myself, my other palm flat on the tile. He had a few inches on me, so he had to bend as he dropped his head down, his mouth closing over my nipple, warm and wet under the water, and he sucked hard, his tongue flicking the tip and his teeth catching it, and my whole chest jumped.

His hand came down, pushed mine off my dick, and replaced it. His fist was so much bigger than mine. He wrapped all the way around and stroked me firmly from base to head, the water and the leftover soap making it slide, his thumb dragging across the tip on every upstroke, and he kept sucking my nipple the whole time, pulling it up between his lips and letting it snap back. Nobody had ever touched my nipples. I'd assumed they were just decorative. Every pull he took on my chest shot straight down into his fist.

I put my hand on the back of his head, over the short wet stubble of his hair, and I didn't push. I just held it there. And I was hard as I had ever been. I could feel myself pulsing in his hand.

He straightened up, pushed his hips forward, and lined his dick up against mine. His was heavier and darker and thicker, and it ran past mine by a couple inches, the head of it resting against my stomach above where mine ended. He held our dicks together tightly. He started stroking us like that, two dicks in one fist, his hot shaft grinding along the underside of mine on every pull, and I looked down and watched it, my pale dick and his dark one mashed together in his hand with the water running down over both.

I put my hands on his hips, my palms sliding over the wet skin, and then I reached around and grabbed his ass with both hands, because I had been staring at it since he turned around and I wanted to know what it felt like. It was exactly as hard as it looked. Two dense mounds of muscle, hot under the water, and when I dug my fingers in they didn't give at all, not even a dimple. Teddy's cheeks had squish to them. These felt like grabbing a statue with a heartbeat. 

He grunted into the top of my head and stroked us faster. He was breathing loud over the top of my head. His stomach tensed into ridges against me as his hand clamped tighter around the two of us, and he said "Yeah," once, to nobody, and then he pulsed against me. It didn't even occur to me until then that there might be someone else's cum involved here. 

It shot out hot between us, onto my stomach, onto my dick, over his own knuckles, thick ropes the water didn't wash off right away, and he kept stroking through it, and I felt every pulse of it pressed against the underside of my shaft.

He let go of himself and kept hold of me. He scooped his own load off my stomach with two fingers, smeared it down over the head of my dick, and wrapped his fist around me again, and it was slicker than anything I'd ever felt, hot and heavy and thick, his cum and my precum and the water, and he pumped me with it fast and firmly. No pacing. No teasing. Just his big hand jerking me with his own cum for lube while I held onto his ass with both hands. I even started humping into him a bit, which made it feel even better. 

I didn't get ten strokes out of it. My knees locked and I squirted up onto him, onto his abs and the base of his dick and his hand, four hard pulses, the last one dribbling out over his fingers, and he milked me down slowly until I twitched and pushed his wrist away.

He looked down at the mess on both of us, wiped his hand on his own thigh, and turned around and walked back across the tile to his own shower, ass flexing, dick still half hard and swinging in front of him. He stepped back under his water and started rinsing off, with more soap.

I stayed where I was with my back against the wall. My cum ran off his abs and down the drain over there, and his ran off my stomach and down the drain over here.

He got the soap out again and started working it over his chest, facing me, same as before.

"So," he said. "How're classes going?"