Chapter 21 Sloppy Seconds #2
Todd’s own legs had been through a workout, as evidenced by the disheveled state of his fishnet stockings and garter belt.
Half the garter clips had lost their purchase on the stockings.
The clips jangled at the ends of their elastic straps like castanets.
The stockings sagged provocatively, begging to be ripped away.
Matt felt his cock swelling, felt the familiar tingle in his balls that presaged ejaculation.
Loud pounding echoed from the small side door through which they had entered the building. Insistent knocking. A muffled voice calling Matt’s name.
Idabel!
Shit!
Matt dropped the necktie leash, extracted his dick from Todd’s soupy hole, watched with sadness as the inflamed pink sphincter tried to reseal itself.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! Idabel was not giving up.
Todd scrabbled around, woozy as a drunk, collecting his clothes. His eyes screamed with terror. He and Matt would be expelled. Their families would be shamed into disowning them. Ruination would stalk them. God would spit-roast them for eternity—as if that hadn’t been the plan all along.
Matt felt the same fears gnawing at him, churning his stomach. But they had not been caught—yet.
“Take your stuff and get in one of the toilet stalls,” Matt hissed. “Lock the door. Sit on the tank. Prop your feet on the seat. And don’t make a peep. I’ve got to let my friend in. Hopefully, he’ll think I’m alone.”
Matt was already half dressed. He had no time to tuck into his boxer briefs. He handed those to Todd for safekeeping. Ditto for socks.
Matt made one last sweep of the room before heading out into the hall, and to the door, on the other side of which Idabel was pounding.
Matt unbolted the lock, opened the door.
“Dude, what took you so long? Choking the chicken?” Idabel joked.
“Caught red handed,” Matt fake laughed. The question was too close to the truth to be funny. He worried that his unholstered still-hard cock might snake out of the leg hole of his shorts.
Idabel breezed past Matt into the hall. “It’s eight o’clock on a Saturday night! I saw your Jeep outside. Said to myself ‘self, see if Mustang wants to go get a pizza.’ So here I am,” he said.
“Sorry. I already ate.”
“Wanna catch a movie?” Idabel asked.
“Raincheck. I have to finish up here, then go study. No rest for the wicked, you know.”
Idabel loped towards the locker room. “I’ll keep you company then. It’s too early to go back to my room.”
Shit! Fuck! Damn! Matt had no choice but to follow his friend.
Todd was nowhere to be seen when Matt and Idabel entered the locker room.
Matt eyed the toilet stalls, saw one door securely closed. The other hung slightly ajar. Matt worried that Idabel would notice the difference. It seemed glaringly obvious that one stall was occupied.
“You know that Hayley girl?” Idabel asked. “Red hair? I think I told you that I’ve been chatting with her lately, working up to asking her out. Tonight, she invited me to go bowling with her and some friends…”
“That’s awesome!” Matt interjected, trying to hurry the conversation along. Yes, Idabel had talked about Hayley. Been obsessed about her, one could say.
A soft noise came from the toilet area, the unmistakable sound of a porcelain toilet lid scraping against its tank.
Idabel shook his head. “I thought so, too. Turns out she was trying to fix me up with some friend of hers. Hayley flirted with another dude the whole time.”
The scraping noise sounded again. This time Idabel heard it. He swiveled towards the sound, peered into the shadowed stalls.
“Ava?” Idabel mouthed the name soundlessly. His face sported the universal, goofy grin middle school straight boys use to mask jealousy of their friends who are “getting some”—tail, that is.
Matt shrugged. It was all he could think of doing.
It felt wrong to pull Ava into his lie, sully her reputation vicariously just to save his own.
But outright denial would lead to more questions.
Awkward questions as to who was behind door #1, the implication being he was cheating on Ava, the truth being he was a fag.
A noncommittal shrug, then, was the best he could offer.
Idabel steeled one last look towards the locked stall, then back to Matt.
“Crap!” Idabel said, overloudly, an actor chewing up the scene. “I just remembered I have to work on my paper for Old Testament class. Guess I’d better be going.”
Matt nodded. “I’ll show you out.” It was a dumb phrase. Like Idabel didn’t know his way out of the building.
Back at the side door, Idabel paused, looking out towards the parking lot. Matt’s Jeep, Todd’s Camry, and Idabel’s pickup were the only vehicles there. The outside air seemed cooler than the stale air in the building.
“Funny,” Idabel said. “I would have sworn Ava drives a Subaru.” He didn’t wait for Matt to answer and headed towards his pickup.
Matt sighed. There would be time later to replay this conversation, parse every word, fret about what Idabel might or might not know. For now, Matt and Todd were safe.
Matt bolted the side door. Returned to the locker room. Coaxed Todd out of the stall. Led him to one of the benches.
Todd had not had time to dress. He held his clothes and Matt’s underwear and socks in his arms. He kept mumbling that he was sorry.
Sorry for having suggested they come here in the first place.
Sorry for having alerted Idabel to his presence.
Todd had felt his pumps slipping from the toilet seat, had tried shifting his weight on the wobbly tank lid. That had caused the scraping noise.
Matt took the wadded clothes from Todd’s arms, laid them aside. He gestured for Todd to sit on the bench.
Matt knelt in front of Todd, looking up into his dark, still-scared eyes. Matt unfastened the pumps and removed them. He gently released the remaining garter clips, then carefully rolled the fishnet stockings from Todd’s legs, massaging his calves in the process.
Next was the garter belt. It held no fascination for Matt, nor did any of the female accoutrements. Their magic was gone, vanished the moment Idabel had assumed Matt was fucking a woman.
Matt peeled the garter belt away from Todd’s midriff, saw red creases where it had pressed into the boy’s skin.
Finally, Matt loosened the necktie, eased it away. The time for makeshift leashes had passed.
Todd sat naked, a beautiful boy with his pink cheeks and dark hair.
Matt stood, stepped out of his shoes, shrugged out of his clothes. He sat beside Todd on the bench and draped an arm around his slender shoulders.
Todd melted into the embrace, leaning his head against Matt’s chest.
Matt combed the fingers of his free hand through Todd’s thick hair. Cupped Todd’s chin, lifted it towards him. Softly kissed his forehead. Stroked his lips.
They had not kissed earlier. Not been gentle. Urgent. Wanton. Carnal. These were words that described their first two couplings. Matt’s natural assertiveness had paired perfectly with Todd’s innate submissiveness.
Matt had no regrets. Still, something was missing.
Maybe it was the fact that Todd had not cum, had not even been hard.
Maybe it was the absence of kissing. Whatever the cause, the mystical moment where the bread of the one and the wine of the other transfigured into a mystical thing had not occurred.
Matt pressed his lips to Todd’s eyebrows, his nose.
Todd’s lips parted, seeking Matt’s.
They kissed.
Matt brushed his fingers over Todd’s nearest nipple, felt the boy’s body shudder in response. Tried it again. Same effect. The nipple hardened into a tiny erection.
Matt kissed his way down to the nipple, teased it with his tongue.
Todd arched his back, simultaneously pulling away from Matt’s tongue and presenting the nipple for more licking.
Matt sucked the nipple into his mouth, bathing it with his tongue. Bit gently. Felt shudders ripple through Todd’s body.
Matt glanced down, noticed that Todd’s dick was hard—the first time all evening. That had fascinated Matt: a guy so focused on being fucked that he ignored his own dick! Todd had not touched it once, yet it had slobbered pre-cum as it flopped around.
It had been patient enough. Now it wanted its turn.
Matt freed his mouth, smiled into Todd’s eyes, then rotated on the bench, one leg on each side. His own cock stood at attention, reporting for duty. Matt leaned back on his arms.
“Straddle me,” Matt said. “Facing me. Sit on my cock.”
“You’ll have to be gentle,” Todd whispered. “My hole can’t take much more.”
Matt watched as Todd eased onto his cock, slowly sinking until his ass pressed against Matt’s thighs. Matt held still, not bucking or thrusting.
Todd rocked his hips, rolling Matt’s cock back and forth inside him like the clapper on a bell. Todd moaned as he rocked.
“Stroke your cock,” Matt said. “I want to see you cum.”
Todd obeyed, hesitant at first, growing more urgent with time. Whereas Matt jacked with his whole hand, fingers curled around his shaft, Todd held the tip with only his thumb and forefinger, moving the foreskin up and down. It was a lovely sight.
As regarded the fucking itself, Matt preferred the earlier doggy-style and standing positions. This position afforded less penetration. Nor did it provide the sucking friction from thrusting. Instead, Matt’s cock was cocooned, its head concussed as it banged from front to back.
Still, what the position lacked in penetration was compensated by the visual stimulation.
Matt felt the mercury rising, knew his crisis was nearing. He gritted his teeth, tried listing the prime numbers between one and fifty. Anything to allow Todd to ascend to Elysium first.
Matt felt Todd’s orgasm before he had visual confirmation. Todd’s rocking grew frantic. His moans were almost prayers for relief. Then came the spooge, spilling out like lava.
Matt’s cock had its own eruption—less Vesuvius, more Mount St. Helens—this being its second of the evening. It was good enough to put a smile on his face.