Authors: Sean Wolfe
Aroused (3 page)
Carlos, Brian, and Robert started laughing as they watched me slide my ass back and forth against the invisible cock fucking my ass. I was vaguely aware of them around me as delirium took over my body, and I closed my eyes. A moment later my second load of the night flew from my cock and landed all across my chest and stomach.
And then I fell asleep.
Â
The next morning I was awakened by the phone.
“Listen, Jason, I know you're not thrilled with our gift. I know it doesn't seem like much right now.” It was Carlos. “But trust me, you're gonna love it. I promise.”
I could still feel his fat cock deep inside my ass. It wasn't fucking me now, but just buried there, filling me up completely. The previous night came flooding back to me, and I remembered my first two wishes. I couldn't believe it was happening, but there was no denying the long, thick, hard cock I felt up my ass. I hadn't used my third wish, and for a moment, I thought about wishing I'd never asked to feel Carlos' cock inside me forever. I was soft, but just the sound of Carlos' voice was getting me plump, and as I got harder, the feel of his cock inside me began to move ever so slowly. I suddenly realized the little bit of control I had over the situation, and decided not to use my last wish just quite yet. I'd save it for another time.
“Jason, are you there?”
“Yes,” I said softly, as my cock grew just a little harder, and I felt his thick cock slide in and out of my ass slowly. I closed my eyes and moaned slowly as I wriggled my ass against the pleasure it brought. “Hey, where did you guys go after the party last night?”
“We all went home. It was after three in the morning. Where else would we go? Are you okay?”
By now I was fully hard, and Carlos cock was sliding in and out at a quickening pace.
“Mmm hmm.”
“Alright. Just one last thing, though, okay? Your gift is not a joke. You get three wishes, and they really will come true.”
“Really?” I asked as I stroked my cock and felt him fuck me harder and faster. I was already close.
“Okay, I can tell you're mocking me. So I'm gonna go. Have fun with your gift. But Jason, promise me one thing.”
“What's that?” I whispered as I bit my lip and the first spray of cum spewed from my cock and landed on my face.
“Be careful what you wish for.”
He Made Me Quaker
G
rowing up in a small, northern Texas panhandle town of less than 500 is a burden and punishment I truly would not wish upon my worst enemy. I held my breath and tried my best to get through high school with as little attention and notoriety as possible. It was painfully obvious to me that I didn't fit in there. It was even more obvious to the other 499 residents who infringed upon my space and stole my air.
rowing up in a small, northern Texas panhandle town of less than 500 is a burden and punishment I truly would not wish upon my worst enemy. I held my breath and tried my best to get through high school with as little attention and notoriety as possible. It was painfully obvious to me that I didn't fit in there. It was even more obvious to the other 499 residents who infringed upon my space and stole my air.
I came from a poor family, so I figured going to college was completely out of the question. Instead I focused my energies on researching other ways of getting out of the small, Bible-belt mentality, hopelessly redneck town and out into the real world. But my options were limited. My senior year in high school I felt like I was trapped and doomed to a life of riding tractors and plowing fields.
But miraculously, my belief and faith in the universe and its ability and desire to take care of us kicked in and proved my belief and faith were justified.
I attended a Quaker church. Though I didn't acknowledge it at the time, I initially went because there were a couple of really hot guys around my age who attended there, and I had the hots for them. It was a subconscious action, or reaction, and I certainly didn't realize it back then. But I know it now. Eventually, I actually found that my personal spiritual beliefs were very much in line with Quaker teachings, and I loved my church. And my involvement with the Booker Friends Church led me down a path that would forever change my life in many ways.
Most significantly, it announced in January of my senior year, that if I would be kind enough to accept the gift, they would be honored to pay my way through college. The one stipulation was that they wanted me to attend Friends University, a Quaker college in Wichita, Kansas. It was their sincere hope that I would get a degree in Bible and Theology, and eventually return to Booker and pastor my own church.
I was ecstatic, and agreed without hesitation. Wichita was a big city! I'd never been to a city of over 10,000, and so Wichita's population of 250,000 seemed like New York City to me at that moment. I was finally going to get out of Booker. It didn't matter that the church wanted me to return after my studies to set up permanent and binding residence and pastorship there. All I could see was an open door that presented a world of promises for me. I'd finally get a glimpse of reality. I'd finally see a real live Black person or a real live Asian person, rather than just seeing them on TV. I'd finally see tall buildings and subway systems and hear sirens racing through the streets at night.
But Wichita was a huge disappointment. It wasn't a real city at all. No tall buildings or subway systems. The only sirens I heard were usually the result of a cat that got caught in a tree or something similarly ridiculous. Wichita wasn't much different from Booker, except that it had approximately 249,500 more rednecks than did my hometown.
I did enjoy college, though, which was a relief, after having hated high school so much. It did present a few problems, however. I lived in the men's dorm, which had communal showers on each floor. We had about 200 young, virile, corn-fed Midwestern boys in our dorm, and though we were all attending a Christian college, and many of us were planning on going into the ministry, most of us seemed quite uninhibited, and were perfectly comfortable walking around the dorm in various states of undress, and in various states of ... “happiness.” I was not one of those uninhibited boys, but I took extreme pleasure in watching my dormmates lather themselves in the showers and walk around the hallways either completely naked and sporting hard-ons, or in just their tented boxers.
By my junior year at Friends University, I was still a virgin. My mind raced with thoughts and images and dreams of quite torrid sex with several of my fellow students. There were a couple of brothers, Mike and Loren Boettcher, who were particularly blessed, and about whom I could not stop thinking. Both of them had cocks that hung to their knees when soft, and both of them couldn't help but get half hard just by stepping under the shower. They often showered at the same time, and I often made every attempt to conveniently be in the shower at that same moment. There were also three or four other guys that I had the hots for as well, and I found myself spending more and more time strategizing on how to see them naked. And I spent more and more time daydreaming and fantasizing about all of them.
I'm no genius, but I'm not stupid either. It didn't take long for me to realize I had sexual identity issues. I was horny all the time, and I spent about every spare waking moment obsessing over Mike and Loren and Daniel and Cory and Kevin and ...
The second half of my junior year, I finally decided to take action. There was a “dirty” bookstore and cinema about a mile from the school. One Friday evening I drove to the bookstore, and spent an hour and a half sitting in my car, trying to calm my heart down enough to go inside. I finally did.
The smell of sexual energy immediately assaulted my nostrils, and I got hard instantly. I looked around nervously, noticing the various magazines, the sealed video boxes, and the plastic encased dildoes of various sizes. The clerk barely looked up from the magazine he was reading to acknowledge my presence, but I slinked away to the nearest corner anyway, trying to will away the heated blush that had crept up my face.
At the back of the store was a door, with the words “Movie House â Pay Clerk to receive token.” I swallowed my pride and purchased a token, dropped it into the slot, and jumped as the door buzzed and then opened in front of me. I stepped inside and was instantly overwhelmed with the odor of stale sex and even staler popcorn. It was completely dark inside the theater, and my shoes stuck to the floor and made a sucking sound as I walked forward. I heard loud moans and mumbled words from somewhere ahead of me. I walked into, and then pushed aside, a black curtain. On a large screen several feet from me was a naked woman lying on her back and a naked man lying on top of her, ramming his cock deep inside her as they both made exaggerated moans and grunting noises.
I stood there, motionless for a moment, taking in the sight before me. I'd never seen anyone fucking before, and I was mesmerized. Someone coughed, and I jumped and looked around. Seven or eight men were scattered throughout the theater. As the camera angle on the screen changed and filled the room with a little brighter light, I saw most of the men were middle-aged or older, and most of them were stroking their cocks.
I made a concerted effort not to look at any of them, and fumbled my way to a seat near the back. I sat down and watched the movie in front of me. It wasn't that I particularly tried to do so, but I automatically blocked the sight of the woman from my mind. All I could see was the naked man. His muscular ass flexed as he shoved his dick into the woman, and every once in a while the camera zoomed in and showed his cock as it pulled out and then slid back inside the woman.
I got hard instantly, and reached down to grope my cock through my jeans. It throbbed and begged to be released, so I pulled it out and stroked it slowly for a couple of minutes. In front of me on the screen, the woman began screaming, and the guy pulled out of her quickly. The camera focused in on his big dick, and I felt the stirrings of my orgasm building deep in my balls. A second later the actor moaned and huge streams of white cum flew from his cock. The first several shots landed on the woman's breasts, forcing me to acknowledge their presence for the first time. I almost lost my erection, but then the camera moved back to the actor's fat cock, and I was back on track. It took only a couple more strokes before my body tightened, a loud guttural moan escaped my throat, and I sprayed my load all over the back of the chair in front of me.
I lost my breath as jet after jet of cum flew from my cock. My legs quivered and my body shook with the force of my orgasm. When it was over I just sat there for a few minutes, letting the last few drops of cum slide down my still surprisingly hard dick. Then I stuffed my cock back inside my jeans and walked out of the theater.
“That didn't take long,” the acne-faced clerk snickered.
I felt the flush come back to my face, and darted as quickly as possible to the restroom. Once inside I grabbed a handful of paper towels, wet them, and locked myself inside the stall. I quickly shoved my jeans down to my ankles, pulled my cock out, and began washing it with the wet paper towels.
Just being inside the bookstore filled me with conflicting emotions. I felt dirty and ashamed. If any of my schoolmates or friends knew I was there, they'd surely never speak with me again. I might even get kicked out of school. But at the same time, I felt alive for maybe the first time in my life. I was experiencing something I'd never given myself permission to feel before. And even after having shot a huge load in the theater a few minutes ago, I could not get my cock to soften. My heart was pounding hard in my chest again, and I knew I needed to cum again.
As I sat there half washing and half stroking my cock, I looked over and read a handwritten message on the wall. “I need to suck your cock. You need to suck mine. No troll here, you don't be one either. 316.555.4976.”
I found it a little hard to breathe, and my chest hurt from the intense pounding of my heart. The number on the wall was only two digits different from my own, and I knew without thinking about it, that I was going to call it. I quickly stuffed my hard dick back into my jeans, pulled them up, and walked out of the restroom to the pay phone near the front door of the bookstore.
“Hello,” the voice on the other end of the line said.
My heart stopped, and I almost hung up the phone. But then I mentally slapped myself. I hadn't come this far just to back out now. “Hi,” I croaked out. “I'm at the Galaxy Palace and just read your note in the restroom.”
There was an awkward moment of silence on the other end of the phone. “Yeah,” the voice said hesitantly.
“Ummm ...” I stuttered. “Do you want to meet?”
“How old are you?”
“Twenty.”
“Cool,” the voice said, and then waited for a couple of seconds before continuing. “We can't meet at my place. But I'm just a few blocks from the Blue Angel Motel. Can you meet me there?”
“Yes,” I said, and felt my chest constrict with pain. I thought I was having a heart attack.
“How long will it take you to get there?” he asked, after giving me the address and room number.
“Twenty minutes.”
“Right on,” he said. “I'll leave the door unlocked. Just come on in. Don't turn on the lights.”
Visions of being ambushed and beaten or even killed flashed through my mind as I pictured myself walking into a dark motel room. “Okay,” I agreed way too soon, apparently not
overly
concerned about the dangers I might encounter.
overly
concerned about the dangers I might encounter.
The line went dead without a “goodbye” or “see you in a few” or any other such closing remark. I stared at the phone for a moment, and then rushed out of the bookstore.
The Blue Angel Motel was a local legend. Just a few blocks from Wichita State University, it attracted a score of college kids who wished to be discreet and rented the rooms by the hour. It was also frequented by prostitutes and drug dealers who needed a quick place to conduct their business off the streets and out of sight from cops. At Friends University we spoke of the motel in hushed whispers and sad, compassionate but self-righteous shakes of the head.
Room 115 was an end unit on the first floor. I found it easily enough and walked up to the door. It took me a couple of minutes to work up the nerve to go inside. Finally, I opened the door and took a step inside before I could turn around and run away. I closed the door quietly behind me and tried to get my bearings in the dark.
“I'm over here,” the voice said. It came from in front of me and to the left, near the only window. “Strip and then come join me.”
I tapped my hand against my right leg, a nervous habit I had when I was frightened and unsure of myself, and counted to ten. Then I stripped, letting my clothes fall to the floor next to the door, and walked slowly to the bed.
“Down here,” the voice said.
I sat on the bed and reached out to feel for him. My eyes finally began to adjust to the dark, and I made out the shadow in the middle of the bed. I laid my hand on his chest and began rubbing the hard and smooth skin, tracing my fingers across his chest and stomach, and then lightly pinching his already hard nipples.
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