Senior Year (BoyxBoy)

1 | Senior Year Begins

Eli Harris

I cracked my room door open to peek my head into the hallway. The sound of the weatherman's voice still echoed from the living room, and the smell of bacon flooded the house. I slowly closed my door to keep anyone from hearing that I was awake and promptly locked it.

"Alright, I got a few minutes to myself," I said.

I go into my closet and take a box from the shelf, revealing a bottle of lube and other personal items. My dick was already hard and twitching with excitement as I grabbed the lube and headed to the bed while removing my underwear and then reaching into my nightstand to pull out a box of tissues. 

Now, usually, I would find some porn on Twitter and hurry and rub one out, but this session calls for the spank bank. Squeezing some lube into my hand, I closed my eyes as I began to jerk my dick slowly, letting the memory play in my head.

Let me set up the picture for you.

Yesterday, Brett and I were working out at the gym, and he was sweating up a storm. His sculpted chest and hard nipples are clinging to his sweaty t-shirt. As he lifts the weights above his head, his shirt lifts to reveal his v-line. Eventually, he removes his shirt and starts to flex in the mirror and do some poses. 

I play that moment in my head over and over until I'm close to the edge. My breathing gets more erratic, and I clench onto the bed as I get ready to cum; however, my pleasure time is cut short when the doorknob jiggles, followed by a slight knock. 

"Eli?" my Dad calls out.

I hastily fumbled out of bed and fell onto the floor with a loud thud. 

"Eli, are you okay in there?" Dad asked, jiggling the doorknob again. 

"Yeah, just startled out of my sleep," I replied. 

"Oh, well, breakfast is ready; don't take too long," he says, walking off. 

I wait till his footsteps are no longer hearable and groan in frustration. 

"I guess it's blue balls for you," I say to my now soft dick.

Once I cleaned myself and put on some clothes, I headed to the kitchen to see my mom setting the table. 

"Good morning!" I said as I grabbed a plate and scooped a serving of eggs onto it. 

"Morning, baby. Sleep well?" Mom asked. 

"I could have used a few more minutes," I said, scooping a spoonful of eggs into my mouth.

Voices from the news reporters blared from the old TV in the living room. "Yesterday, the U.S. Supreme Court legalized gay marriage in all fifty states," the reporter announced.

Mom's face turns sour. "First, they ask for marriage, and then they'll want children to conform," Mom added.

Both my parents come from a strict, conservative Pakistani background; they have struggled through most of their lives. My Dad worked as a teacher, and my mom was a hairstylist. Wanting a better life to start a family, they moved to the U.S. Still, unfortunately, they brought their conservative values with them, and me being their closeted homosexual son has made my teen years painstakingly miserable.

"It's weird," Dad said as he sat at the table. "That shit doesn't affect you, so I don't pay it any mind." 

His harsh tone knocked me down a peg, sinking me into my seat. 

"How do you feel about the news?" Dad questioned.

"I don't care about it." I lied. I usually tell them what they want to hear to get out of a conversation.