Looks wise, he’s perfect. He reminds of that actor, Barry Keegan or something, from that crazy movie where he humps a grave, with his black hair and blue eyes.
Skinny little nerds like Mark and Andy are totally my type.
But I could never go up to Andy and talk to him. Not because we’re a cliche in those bad Netflix movies, the jock and the nerd, but because I don’t share any classes with him and we don’t have any friends in common. I thought about joining the Anime Club to get to know him, but I’m not actually that into it. One time I overheard him talking about an anime with his friends, and later that night I checked it out. It was alright, but not my thing.
So the best I could do was admire Andy from afar. Still, I couldn’t help but let my eyes follow him.
And just my luck, while I’m too wrapped up in gazing at his angular face, crystal blue eyes, and that pitch black hair, he turns his head and makes eye contact with me. I look away quickly, trying to suppress my panic, but for a split-second I notice his confused expression.
Fuck, fuck. Hold yourself together, Matt.
It’s just a few more months left of senior year, and I never wanted to come out in high school. Once I’m in college, I’ll explore my sexuality, but for the time being I have to be DL. Which sucks, honestly. Cuz when I heard that I was nominated for Homecoming King, I couldn’t help but imagine what it’d be like if Andy was crowned next to me.
I’m such a cliche. The closet case jock crushing hard on the cute nerdy gay guy.
***
I’m showering up after an intense practice. The locker room isn’t really like what you hear about. Guys aren’t walking naked, groping each other like in those stories. I mean, guys will compliment me sometimes on my glutes, but it’s nothing too over the top.
I towel up and change then make my way towards the parking lot when I remember I’m missing a textbook I need for tonight’s homework. Returning to my locker, I’m shocked to see Andy at his own. I don’t know if he notices me.
When I’m rummaging around in my locker, I get one of those feelings that somebody is watching me. And when I look towards Andy, I find his eyes trained on me. Only he doesn’t look away. I try to suppress the crazy butterflies that are going off in my stomach as he starts walking towards me.
“Hey, Matt.”
“Hey, Andy.” I say, playing it cool. I’ve gotten good at hiding my feelings, being closeted and all. Still, my mouth feels like sandpaper, but I don’t think Andy notices.
“What are you doing here so late?” he asks.
“Ah you know, wrestling practice, just grabbing a book. What about you?”
He shrugs. “Working on my final for Studio Art.”
“Oh cool,” I say, noticing that he has some dried paint on his hands and some splatter on his shirt. “I didn’t know you painted.”
His face breaks out in a smile and I almost swoon. “Yeah, I love it. I’m actually thinking about majoring in Art in college.”
“Oh cool,” I say again, lamely.
“Yeah…” he says as the conversation trails off.
This is fucking awkward.
“Do you want to hang out sometime?” Andy suddenly asks me out of the blue.
I’m completely caught off guard. “What? Uh, why?” I say before realizing how rude that sounds.
He just shrugs again. “I figured it wasn’t too late to make some new friends.”
And the thought of being friends with Andy makes those butterflies in my stomach swarm.
***
That night, I’m a goner. I know better than to get my dildo out when anybody else is home, but I at least can finger myself a little while I work my cock.
Only this time, the star of my fantasies isn’t Mark the nerd, but Andy. I imagine Andy behind me, one hand scissoring his fingers into my jock pussy, while the other strokes my cock.
“Yeah, take it, you’ve got such a hungry pussy, Matt,” he whispers in my ear while I fight to suppress a moan. “Look at how well it swallows up my fingers, such a hot jock cunt. Made for taking my cock.”
I imagine him unzipping his jeans and pulling out a Mark-sized cock, longer than a ruler, and just as I’m picturing him pressing the head of that weapon against my tight entrance, I shudder and make a mess in my hand, moaning into the pillow.
***
The more I hang out with Andy, the more I like him. Which is kinda bad news.
At first it was awkward. We didn’t really know each other well enough. And I was too nervous, wondering if hanging out was more than just hanging out as friends. But, pretty quickly things started to change.
Talking to Andy became fun. He’s a pretty funny guy, with a really dry sense of humor, sarcastic but not mean. He says it’s because he watches a lot of British comedy shows. He’s also an insanely talented artist. He showed me his Studio Art project, it’s a gigantic canvas, big enough that it would take up the width of a whole wall, and at first I thought it was like a giant one of those black ink tests, you know the ones where you look at it and say what you see and it’s supposed to mean something about your psyche? But actually Andy says it’s meant to be a bird, like a giant raven, flying directly towards you. I don’t know much about art, but it’s really cool.
Andy is easy to talk to. I even ended up confessing that I tried watching some anime but didn’t like it. Andy showed me a few shows he said I might like, one of them was like Joe-Joe’s Adventure or something, and it’s actually really cool. We started watching it together after school.
And the more we hang out, the more my fantasies run wild. I’ve graduated from Andy fingering me to him spreading my fat cheeks and tongue fucking the life out of me. Or he takes that fat cock and slides it between my cheeks, teasing my hole. A part of me avoids imagining him actually fucking me, because I feel like if I do that then there’s no turning back.
One day we get to my house and there’s nobody there. My parents left a note saying my sister was going to a dance recital a couple towns over, and some money to order a pizza. The idea of being completely alone with Andy, not at school or anything, almost makes me chub up. Almost.
I tell him I’m gonna grab my laptop, and he decides to follow me. I grab it and my charger, turning around to see him looking curiously at something on the floor.
Something pink.
My stomach drops. I feel like I’m going to pass out, but the panic is pumping adrenaline into my veins. I just stand there, frozen, heart racing, as he bends down and picks up the tiny pink thong. And when he’s bent over, his head turns, he frowns, and he reaches underneath my bed.
No no no no fuck fuck no please no.
See, that morning I woke up so horned, I broke my own rule. I had to grab my dildo and thong, and I was getting so into that when my mom screamed “MATT!! You’re going to be late for school!” I practically flew off the bed, and in my rush I just pushed my dildo and thong under the bed, thinking nobody would notice.
Andy pulls his hand from under the bed, and my worst fear comes true. Because his fingers are gripped around my dildo, which is, yup, still slick with this morning’s lube.
He holds them both up, thong in one hand, dildo in the other, his face incredulous, looking back and forth between the two like he can’t believe his eyes.