Love-All

I taught Art something new

PATRICK

It's not every night that I can't get some shut-eye. Long days with Art, our classes, and ricocheting tennis balls between each other on the court is almost a guaranteed way to knock me out by the time we get into our beds. Yet, today wasn't one of those days. My ceiling stares back at me from my twin sized bed, the last place I want to be when I have so much energy left for the night. I look over at Art, sound asleep, across our dorm– he isn't that far away, given that our shared room is as tiny as it gets.

"Art," I whisper.

God, I couldn't be any more bored. This fucker sleeps like he's dead.

"Arrrrt," I whisper louder again, in a sing-song voice. "Want to go throw pebbles at Cat's window? I can't sleep."

Art stirs a little bit and moves his hand to be under his pillow. I sigh loudly and take my arms out of my blanket. Looking around our room, I tap my fingers against my lap, pretending to play the piano and humming. I guess there is, actually, one thing that helps me release some energy before knocking out. Slowly, I put my right hand back under my blanket, and then into my underwear. The elastic of my Hanes boxers is tight around my wrist as I grab my soft dick, which I begin to rub.

To be honest, I'm new to jerking off. About a month ago, I heard Dominic talking about it in the showers, and I began to eavesdrop after he mentioned how touching his hard dick would make him feel so good until he "came," which he described as "white shit coming out of this fat cock." I was pretty intrigued. I went home that night, and well, discovered the best thing in the world.

I continue my routine. I use my fingers to rub the tip of my penis, already getting a little wet with precum. I take my hand out of my underwear and lick it all around. As much as I am grossed out by it, it turns me on even more every time I get to do this. There's something about bodily fluids that has always been hot to me; a physical, tangible proof that one has gotten hot. I slide my left hand down my Hanes this time, my right finger still in my mouth. I stroke my rock-hard dick, making sure to feel every inch of it going up, going down. I notice that it's suddenly hot in the room, so I take off my blanket, my shirt, then my shorts, and finally my underwear all the way down to my ankles. I have a good pace going on at this point. Eyes shut, I move my hand up and down my dick, thrusting into the enclosure made by it. Using my non-dominant hand to jerk off, I discovered, has been rewarding– it makes it feel like another person, instead of myself, is doing it. Sometimes I imagine Cat giving me a handjob. Sometimes other people. With my right hand, I play with my balls, bouncing around as I massage them and my pubes. It feels so fucking good, I being to moan quietly. I'm pretty caught up in it all until ...

"Patrick...?" Art goes.

Art turns on his bedside lamp, throwing a yellow glow into our room. I jump and scramble to reach my underwear, but it's too late. I make eye contact with Art, staring at me, my hands, my dick. Butt. Ass. Naked. To my surprise he looks more confused than horrified, which calms me down. He's my best friend, the least judgemental guy in the world. So I relax and just shrug at him.

"What the fuck were you just doing?" asks Art, more bewildered than accusatory.

"I was jerking off my dick. As one does." I reply nonchalantly as I possibly could.

"What the hell is that?"

"You know what, I'm glad you asked. I had a feeling you were a late bloomer and thought it'd be funny to show you the world of sex." I try to say, most un-awkwardly as a guy with a massive-hard on still could say to his roommate less than 6 feet away. I decided to pull up my blanket to my waist. "Have you ever gotten a boner?"