Ugh………why did junior high school have to suck so bad.
Now, first off, I suppose I should tell you that I was a major closet case back then. Hell, I was so deep in the closet you probably wouldn't even see me in there. My best friends were the moths, and I knew each and every one by name. I was 15 and a basket case when it came to guys. I couldn't even buy porn for myself. Scared me to death to even look at the magazines in the store in case someone saw me. All I had was my right hand and my imagination, and I put both to good use whenever I could.
High School loosened me up a bit, but not very much. Every time I'd find myself beside some hunk or other, I'd turn to mush. Riding the buses to class each day was both the best and the most terrifying moments of my time there. I had my own apartment downtown where I caught the bus and the school was way out of the city limits. By the time the bus got to the school, it was standing room only.
I don't know how many times I ended up in an aisle seat with some crotch staring me in the face, or some guy jostling against my shoulder whenever the bus moved. Every day, I looked forward to the ride, and almost every day it terrified me. They sure gave me lots of material for late-night whack off fantasies, though, especially if the guy standing beside me showed a particularly full package or wore tight jeans. And if I could smell him. . . well. . .
I couldn't count how many times I walked off that bus with my books parked in front of my crotch.
So, I went through my first year of high school in a complete daze, torturing myself over and over and not getting up the guts to do a single thing about it. I mean, the school had a gay and lesbian newspaper, and they even held meetings, but I never looked at the magazine and I never attended any meetings. I was afraid someone would see me pick one up from the stack at the library or see me at the office. I was a mess back then. A basket case. Completely and totally.
My sophomore year began the same way my freshmen year had ended, with me still hiding in the closet and turning into pudding every time I found myself within arm's reach of a guy. To be honest, I don't know how I survived.
And then I saw The Guy. I didn't know his name. I don't remember seeing him before. He was just The Guy. I was in the library where I usually was at night on Friday, studying up and researching assignments. The school kept the library open until ten on Fridays, so that students have the opportunity to get some homework done before the weekend. With no friends to speak of, and even less of a social life, I immersed myself in my education. My best friends were my right hand and my favorite table at the school library.
It was usually quiet in the library at night. On the second floor. It was quiet and secluded there and I was alone for the most part.
I had my books spread out in front of me that night, going through them and making notes. I was alone at my table, sitting where I always did, with my back to the wall and facing the stacks so I could keep a cautious eye on the comings and goings. It happened when I went back to the stacks to load up on a few more books I needed.
When I came back to the table, I rounded the aisle and stopped dead in my tracks. Someone was sitting at my table! And he was sitting right across from my chair! The Guy had brown hair, a nice chocolate brown. It was pretty spiky too. His back was to me. He was sprawled out in his chair looking down at a book opened on the table in front of him. His right arm and his left elbow rested on the table, his head tilted against the curled knuckles of his left hand.
The nerve of The Guy! Sitting at my table, and right across from my spot! Talk about invading someone's space. Some people had more nerve than brains.
I collected my own nerves and headed back to my seat. I dropped my books onto the table, but The Guy didn't even look up. He just sat there, reading. His hair was just as spiky from the front as it was from behind, and he had red triangular marks going down the sides of both his cheeks, I don't know what was up with that. He wore an all black hoodie vest with nothing underneath, that was zipped down to just below mid-chest and I could see freckles on the untanned, light milk chocolate skin there.
He wasn't bad looking, and with those red marks on his face, somehow, they made him look kinda cute, and a little primal as well. All in all, he wasn't unpleasant to look at, and he had an interesting aroma, similar to the way soil smells right before it rains. It was pretty nice. I sat down and turned my attention to my books. My feet ran into his as I settled into my seat. He'd stretched himself across the floor under the table. He didn't look up or anything. He just pulled his legs back as I settled into position. I should have packed up and moved somewhere else, but this was my spot and this was where I wanted to be. As soon as I was comfortable, his legs stretched out again, nudging against my feet, returning to their earlier spot, but between my legs now. I instinctively moved my one foot aside to make room for him. He didn't even apologize or acknowledge my presence.
I had a toothache like him once. The dentist pulled it!
I tried to forget about him and got back to my work. As I sat there reading, making notes, and trying to decide where to go for dinner; an outside eatery called Ichiraku's for some ramen or to a great indoor restaurant named Shushuya for barbeque, he sat there, unmoving. Until The Guy's right hand turned the page and he continued reading. This time, though, his right hand dropped beneath the table.
The best part about the library, my favorite thing about 'my spot', was that it was quiet and peaceful. It was so quiet, in fact, that I could hear the distinctive sound of a zipper being pulled down.
I tilted my eyes up, looking at him from under my blonde eyebrows. He was still staring down at his book. I didn't even know what color his eyes were. Nothing moved accept his right arm, and I wasn't sure what he was doing. He squirmed in his chair once and then stopped moving again - except his right arm. It wasn't moving, really, but I could see his biceps working. Expanding and contracting in a regular rhythm. It took me a moment to catch on.
Son of a bitch! The Guy was jerking off! Right there in the library! Right there at my table! He was jerking off! Right in front of me!
My books, notes, and dinner plans were forgotten as my head tilted up to look at him. I couldn't see what he was doing. It was all hidden under the table. But I could tell. I looked at him. I so wanted to bend down and see for myself, but I was petrified, in more ways than one. As discreetly as I could, I moved my right hand into my crotch and tried to shift myself around a bit so it was less painful. I couldn't manage it and had to shove my hand down the front of my pants to do it instead. All the time, I sat there looking at The Guy.
And then his eyes turned up toward me. They were incredibly dark brown, almost black under his dark eyebrows. I pulled my hand out of my pants and returned it to the table. He stared at me for a moment, then one corner of his mouth curled up and opened ever-so-slightly, just enough for me to see a single sharp canine and he winked. His attention returned to his book, but his arm never stopped working.
I looked quickly around the library. Only one other person was there that I was aware of. Some guy, pretty tall with long, dark, scraggly hair tied back. A blue kerchief was tied around his left arm. His jeans and denim jacket looked wrinkled and unkempt. Like he was to lazy to iron his clothes or dress himself properly this morning.
I went back to looking at The Guy. He was much prettier.
I could hear The Guy now. Not a slapping sound, but the popping sound you hear when you're masturbating and a drop of pre-cum gathers in the tiny slit at the tip of your cock and snaps like a tiny bubble every time you stroke the head. The snapping sound matched the contractions and expansions of his biceps.
His rhythm was steady and continuous. He was in no hurry. His opened vest was moving, giving me quick peeks of one small arc of his right nipple with each stroke of his arm. As I watched his chest, his right arm suddenly appeared above the table. I looked up into his face and met his gaze. He looked at me as his right hand zipped down his vest a few inches and then, as his eyes returned to his book, his arm disappeared under the table again and began stroking once more. The popping sound was louder now and his vest opened enough to show me regular peeks of his entire right nipple with each stroke of his arm.
I was lost in the moment by then. I couldn't have moved if I wanted to. All I could do was look at him. He continued to stroke for about a minute longer when I saw the Lazy Dude round the stacks to my right and head for the table. He had one book open in his hands and was reading as he walked. The title on the cover read: "The Advanced Guide to Cloud Watching".
I quietly cleared my throat and The Guy looked up at me. I jerked my head to the right a smidgen. His arm never stopped working. "Staff?" he whispered. I shook my head 'no'. "Male?" I nodded. He just gave me that toothy 'corner-of-the-mouth' smile again and went back to reading and masturbating.
The Lazy Dude stopped at the end of the table and dropped his book on it. He pulled out the chair and looked at me and The Guy as he got ready to sit down. He stopped when he saw The Guy, then bent down and looked under the table. He slammed his chair back into place as he stood up again, grabbed up his book, and turned to leave. "The hell!" he said. "What a drag, it's to late at night for this….!"
And then he was gone.
The Guy looked up at me again and, this time, both corners of his mouth curled up into a smile. He nodded slightly one time and winked and went back to reading. His arm began working more furiously now. I guess he knew I would keep watch for either staff or females for him.
He hit my foot again as he uncrossed his legs and pulled them toward him. I looked down and his feet appeared from under the narrow table on either side of my own feet. I looked back up into his face. He sucked in a deep breath through his nose and let it out again. I could hear his hand moving on his cock now. He wasn't just playing with himself anymore. He was doing some serious jerking off and he was going to make himself shoot and I was going to be there to witness it all.
More than his biceps was working now. His whole arm was moving and his upper body was twitching and jerking with it. His eyebrows curled down and small furrows appeared in his forehead. He sucked in another deep breath and his lips opened a bit, showing me the tips of his white teeth. A long, quiet groan sounded from them.
The slapping and popping sounds became louder and faster as he stroked harder and faster. His vest was open now, his nipple fully displayed. It was protruding and as hard and pointed as the cock between my legs.
His head tilted up then and his eyes found mine. They were squinted, but they stayed locked on mine. He was sucking air through his mouth now. His lips were opened wider and his teeth were clenched. His entire body began to bounce as his right hand pumped his cock out of sight beneath the table. The Guy's groans turned to whimpering moans as his face started to flush, matching the red marks on his cheeks.
His eyes closed as his mouth dropped open and, with a long, extended moan, he came. I saw it all happen on his face. His brow crinkled and his eyes clenched themselves shut and his lips pulled themselves tight once more. His stoking arm slowed, but his biceps bulged now, and I could only imagine the grip he had on himself.
The moan ended and turned into a series of soft grunts. His chest heaved in and out
His mouth finally dropped open again as he released a final, deep sigh of pleasure. His eyes relaxed and his brow unfurled. The Guy continued stroking, but it was only to squeeze the remaining droplets of semen from his cock. His grip was much more gentle by then.
His eyes opened and found my gaze again, blue eyes met brown as I watched as he brought his right hand up from beneath the table and he licked away the stray puddles of man cream there as his body and breathing returned to normal. The pungent smell of semen wafted up to my nose.
The Guy continued staring into my eyes as he finished cleaning off his hand and then both hands disappeared beneath the table and I could hear the zipper being pulled up again. I could see by his movements that he did up the button on the waistband. And then he sat up straight in his chair and pulled his legs away from me. He closed the book and stood up.
"Thanks," he said. His voice was like music, but somehow animalistic, and there was a very grateful tone to it. He smiled again, winked, and then he turned and walked away.
It was only after I saw his back disappear around the stacks at the other end of the room that I pushed my chair back and looked under the table.