Day of the Boner (Conclusion) by Jess Sudhir
As I stepped into the cool darkness of the stairwell, I heard a strange panting sound. Peering into the shadows, I saw two young freshmen, a boy and a girl, fucking each other under the stairs. They looked so much alike, they could almost have been related. Both had the same "dirty" blond hair, and skinny bodies.
Mesmerized, I moved closer, my hand grasping and tugging at my renewed erection. The raw display of young lust was like a magnet. The girl was naked from the waist down, spead-eagled on the dusty floor. Above her, the boy thrust and wriggled, his pants around his ankles and a ragged sweatshirt covering his back. His smooth and skinny ass clenched and unclenched as he drove his hips like a pile driver.
Almost in a trance, I had drifted close enough to touch them, nearly close enough to be struck by the girl's tensed bare foot, as it kicked wildly in the air. The soft high voices of the lovers were melodic, an aria of moans over the rhythm of fuck sounds. Without realizing it, I began to moan along with them.
The girl's eyes opened, and she stared straight into my face, as her boyfriend continued his frenzied thrusts, all unaware of my presence. I could feel heat rising up from their bodies like a molten pool of lava. Although I stood without moving, in my mind I was positioned behind the boy, forcing my cruel rod into his hyperkinetic flesh. I could see myself, feel myself, thrusting inside him, as he pushed inside her, and the three of us moved together as one, and I could picture myself cumming, spewing my seed all the way through his quivering body, and into her waiting womb.
"Ah ah, I'm cumming, I'm cumming!" the boy screamed, just at the very moment that the bell rang to end the school day. My fantasy was broken by the sound of pounding feet as students from all over the building poured into the halls. Once again, I had been within inches of sex, without anything to show for it except a dark circle of precum at the tip of a bulge in my pants.
I had left the school, and was halfway to the bus, when I remembered. Today was wrestling practice! Quickly I hurried back to the building, but all the doors were locked. After what seemed like an eternity of pounding, an elderly janitor let me in, with a scowl on his face. As I ran down the hall towards the locker room, I heard him call me a no-good motherfucking asshole.
The locker room, with its harsh fluorescent lights, was eerily quiet when I went in. All the wrestlers had already changed and left for the mat room. Quickly, I peeled off my clothes and wriggled into my singlet. As I piled my clothes into my locker, I heard voices coming from the other side of the bank of lockers. It was the basketball team. And the things that they were saying made me stop what I was doing and prick up my ears:
"Man, I don't wanna do it. You fags don't ever wanna do anything else."
"Who you calling a fag? You're the one who was throwing wood in the showers yesterday."
"Yeah, man, you gotta jerk off every now and then or shit like that happens to you!"
"Yeah, yeah. I mean, I jerk off every now and then. But you fags wanna jerk off every single day."
"Man! You know what coach says. It relaxes us. Makes us concentrate better."
"Yeah, man... shut up and take off your fucking clothes."
On the other side of the lockers, I froze, with my singlet half on and half off. I didn't want to make a sound.
"Fine. I am kinda horny today."
"Like every day."
The next sound I heard was the unmistakable sound of boymeat --a lot of boymeat --being slapped around. I could see it in my mind. The basketball team had some of the best-looking guys in the school. They were all tall and lean, with defined muscles. I could see them, standing in a circle, some with their shorts pulled down, some in shirts and socks, some completely naked. I could see the row of dicks pointing proudly at each other, the determined look on each player's face as he worked his rod.
More than anything, I wanted to go around the lockers and join them. But what if it was just a joke? What if they were just talking? What if they knew I was listening? What then, if I burst around the corner, my dick bursting through the tight spandex of my singlet?
"Man, would you give me a hand with this?"
"You're such a fag!"
"Shut up, man, and just do it. My wrist is tired."
"What am I supposed to do with my dick?"
"I'll do it. I can get you with my left & me with my right."
"Kewl! Now that's a buddy!"
Shit! I had to jerk off! I had to get in on this action! But I was afraid to move. I didn't know what would happen if I made a noise... if they knew they weren't alone.
"Uhhh... man, not so... oh! Shit! Damn man, you know how to jerk a dick!"
Just then there was a sound of the locker door opening and closing.
"Oh fucking shit! Someone's... oh. It's just Mulligan."
"Hey boys. Jerking off again? Fags..."
"Mulligan thinks he's too good to jerk off with the rest of us."
"Why he's got a boner then?"
"Yo, we should grab him and take his clothes off"
"Hey! Guys! Stay away from me"
I heard sounds of a scuffle, and giggling.
"Stop! That tickles! You fucking fruitcakes get off of me!"
"Look at him! He's as hard as a rock!"
"Hold him down and jerk him off."
More giggling.
"You guys are such fags!"
Heavy breathing. By this time I had spread-eagled my half-naked body against the cold metal lockers. The rough aluminum burned against my skin, as I ground my crotch into its unresponsive crevices. More than anything else, I wanted to be on the other side, in the middle of that circle of self-abuse.
"Hey yo! Who thinks I should fuck Mulligan?"
"Yeah! Fuck Mulligan! Do it! He's a fucking bastard anyway!"
"No! Johnson, get away from me with that thing! You're not putting that black dick anywhere near my ass!"
"Hold him down guys!"
"Grab his legs and spread him out!"
More sounds of scuffling, and an oof! like someone had gotten kicked in the stomach.
"Oh shit! You're not really going to do this? Guys! He's really trying to poke that thing up my ass!"
"Here, I've got some lotion."
"Oh hell no! You guys are dead when I... oh.... uh ... uh! Shit! You fucking...ah.... OH!"
Over there the sounds had turned into the memorable rhythm of fucking. From the sounds of it, Mulligan was getting a royal reaming. At first I thought I was hearing a rape going on, but the high-pitched moans I heard sounded like he was enjoying himself pretty well (with Johnson's deep baritone gasps making a counterpoint bass melody).
"Man look at that fucker go!"
"He's a machine!"
"How you like it Mulligan?"
"Oh... fucking shit!"
Just then, the rear door to the locker room (the one on my side of the bank of lockers) swung open, and a squirrely face poked in.
"Hey Anderson! Are you coming to practice or not? Coach is getting pissed."
Oblivious to the orgy taking place twenty yards away, the face disappeared again. But the damage had been done.
"Who was that? Is there someone in here?"
"I know who Anderson is! He's one of the wrestlers!"
"Shit, do you think he heard us? Do you think he's been listening all this time?"
"Man, who cares if he did. Fuck him."
"Hey, that's a good idea. We should fuck him!"
"Go get him boys! We can all have a piece!"
But "my mama didn't raise no dummies". Tugging my singlet up, I was out the door by the word go.
Reaching the relative sanctuary of the mat room, I tried to let my mind go blank, and to forget the insanity of the day. If I was going to spend an hour and a half rubbing up against other young guys, it wouldn't do to have a big prodding stick attached to my loin.
But that's exactly what happened. For the entire practice period, my boner poked and pushed at the young hardbodies I wrestled, trying blindly to enter where there was no hole, between the ribs, into the navel, under the arm. And I got more than one poke back in return, from a suddenly stirring weapon behind a thin lycra veil.
No one said anything of course. Wrestling is too intimate an activity. It would be a violation of trust for anyone to call attention to the unwanted results of taking two sexually frustrated teenagers, placing them in skintight outfits, and letting them grind up against each other, fighting for dominance, until the sweat pours off of their bodies and mingles in sticky pools on the ground.
Finally Coach yelled at us. "Okay! Good practice! You're all dismissed! Except you Anderson, and you, Harris. You were both late. Stay after, and go another round."
Harris was a black guy about my own height. He had very smooth dark black skin, and a baby face that contrasted with the rock hard muscles covering his thin frame. We got back on the mats, and started wrestling.
The whole practice had seemed dreamlike to me, and now, I floated out of my body and watched myself from above. I was putting up a good fight, but Harris was better than me. After rolling for a bit, he got me pinned down on my stomach, with him on top. That much was a legitimate move but... what was happening now? It looked like he was humping me, making little thrusting motions with his hips. If I tried hard, I could just make out the sensations from my body. Yes, there was something hard as steel riding up and down the crack of my ass.
"Hey! I mean... that's enough! Good round boys, match to Harris. Excuse me for a moment."
Suddenly Coach turned and fled the room, his face flushed. Harris laughed and crawled off of me, helping me to my feet.
"What a fag coach is," he said. "I bet you money he's gone to go whack off!"
"What?" I said. Nothing seemed to be making sense to me.
"Didn't you see?" said Harris. "I bet you his dick was almost as hard as yours is."
Casually, he reached out a hand and batted at my tented-out singlet.
Whoosh! Suddenly I was wide awake and back in my body. All I could think of to do was to grab his hand and push it back against my dick. It had felt so good.
"Hey, whoa," said Harris, but he kept his hand there, moving in slow circles. "Horny fucker, aren't you?"
"You are too," I pointed out. Harris' singlet showed even more of a bulge than mine. Shyly, I reached out my hand to touch it's impressive bulk.
"Ahhh!" said Harris with an inrush of breath. Suddenly his body was pressed up against mine, his fingers digging into my ass, our hard dicks fighting it out in the space between our stomachs. He held me like that for a long moment, and then released me. Greedily I reached my hand out again.
"Don't do that!" he said, batting my hand away.
"Why?" I asked, persisting.
"Feels... too... good!" he said, shoving me backwards, as he ripped his singlet off his body. There he stood, naked in front of me, his magnificent ebony body playing second fiddle to the shiny black monster it was attached to. Stepping forward, he reached down the front of my singlet, running his hand all the way down my chest to my groin. A rush of feeling followed, making my knees weak, as he clasped his hand around me, and began to jerk me in rough harsh motions. The feelings that had been pent up all day danced around my body like electricity. I could feel it ringing in my ears, tingling in my toes, jangling my teeth, sparking in my ass, and most of all, ringing around my dick. My vision swam in and out of focus, but behind Harris, I could see Coach, his pants around his ankles, frantically beating his hairy meat. And behind Coach were my teammates, and the wrestling team, and the freshmen fuckers, and Jose and the boy from the bathroom, and the boy from the bus, all jerking along with Harris and me, their hands moving in time with the rush of sensation that built up like a balloon inside my ass and exploded out of my dick so that I screamed at the top of my lungs and CAME in a river of spunk that kept cumming and cumming and cumming until the room filled up in an ocean of white seed, and the fire bell rang, and there were feet stampeding, and guns firing and explosions, and I woke up to the sound of my alarm, just in time to get ready for school.
It had all been a dream. It was time for me to get up.
And I had the most massive boner.
The End.