My little after school sessions with Tom carried on for most of my Sophomore year, an needless to say, biology was the only class I was getting an A+ in. And needless to say, there were a few rumours floating round the school. Thankfully John hadn’t said anything and covered for me if anyone asked him anything. I should’ve appreciated it more but in all honestly, the only thing on my mind was the hot, passionate sex I was getting each day. John had ditched Katrina a few months after the pool incident and had been single ever since, having apparently given up on love. I did offer to fuck him or at the very least blow him and he kind of punched me, asking me when I turned into such a slut. He wasn’t mad at me, just annoyed at my change in character, I guess. I figured I’d make it up to him later and slunk off to Tom’s classroom.


“Did you rat me out, you little shit?” Tom spat and I slipped into his classroom.

“No. Why would I do that?” I asked, genuinely curious.

We’d been sort of fuck buddies for almost a year by this point, and he’d even let me top once, which felt a lot better than being fucked.

Tom grabbed a fistful of my hair, forcing my head back. “Well someone fucking squealed to the principal. I’m going to jail, Cayden”

“What? Why?”

“Because you’re underage”

“But... But I wanted to”

“That doesn’t count for shit, Cayden! I fucked a minor and now I’m going to jail”

“What if I tell them not to press charges?”

He sighed, letting go of my hair and wrapping his arms around me. “Even if you did, the school still would. Or your parents. Or both”

“But I love you”

Tom chuckled. “No you don’t. You love the sex, but you don’t love me. Y’know, you should tell John how you feel”

“What?” I said, feeling my cheeks light up.

“I’ve seen the way you look at him. Y’never know, he might feel the same way about you”

I hummed in agreement but I didn’t believe him. John may have been a shitty Catholic and far from homophobic but he generally seemed a little grossed out by the idea of sex with boys. Tom ran a hand through my hair, smiling.

“One more fuck for old time’s sake?”

I nodded with a smile, pulling myself up on the desk and undoing my jeans.


I lay on the grass in John’s backyard, soaking up the summer sun while he cut the grass around me.

“John,” I whined, “Do that later and come chillax with me”

“I can’t. My parents grounded me, remember?” he laughed.

I looked up at him in disbelief. “Bitch, I’m right here on your lawn. My body is ready, take me now!” I yelled, spreading my arms and legs.

“Cut it out, my folks’ll hear” he said, nudging me with his foot. I’ve mentioned they’re strict Catholics, right?

I rolled onto my stomach. “Did the Pope ever touch you up? Or your priest or whatever you Catholics call the guy”

“All the time. Father Roberts had such smooth hands”

“Wait, seriously?” I asked, sitting up. If he’d let this Father Roberts guy feel him up then maybe he’d let me too.

He looked me in the eye, this deadly serious look on his face, before collapsing in a fit of laughter. “Oh my fucking Christ, Smithy. I was joking”

“I knew that” I pouted.

“Man, you should’ve seen your face. You were, like, foaming at the mouth” he said, still laughing.

“Shut up, asshole” I pouted some more.

He just carried on laughing. I glared at him, rolling back onto my back and shutting my eyes. I used to have a habit of daydreaming when I had my eyes shut, and soon enough I was daydreaming about giving John a handjob. The handjob turned into a blowjob and... Well, I’m sure you can imagine the rest.

“Uh, Smithy” I heard real life John say as daydream John moaned.

I opened one eye, seeing John looking kind of weirded out. He pointed at something and I opened my other eye. Apparently I had a very visible boner. And apparently my hand was shoved in my boxers, closed around my dick. I grinned up at him, not bothering to move my hand.

“Dude, get your hand out of your pants. My mom’ll have a heart attack if she sees you jerking off out here”

“I’ll jerk off inside instead”

“Jerk off at your own house, man”

“You’re no fun”

“Am too” he pouted.

“Prove it” I challenged, not entirely sure where this was heading. But I fucking liked it.

He threw himself at me, a smirk resting deliciously on his lips. His knee found my stomach as he pulled my hair. I grinned. Rolling us over and pinning his arms by his side but the little fucker kneed my boner. I fell off him onto the lawn, howling and grabbing crotch like it’d help. It didn’t.

“That was harsh, man” I said, my eyes watering as John smirked at me.

“That’s why you don’t get into playfights when you’re hard”

“Fuck you, asshole, I think you broke my dick”

“Pussy” he laughed and I glared at him.

“Cynthia  Bellefleur, June twelfth last year in gym class”

John blushed and I knew exactly why. June twelfth last year in gym class, Cynthia Bellefleur had accidentally flashed John her DD jugs in all their glory, along with two shiny nipple rings. Ever since, just mentioning it would get him hard, the horny bastard.

“Don’t you dare” he said, trying to stand up but I moved too fast, punching him in the dick and laughing as he writhed around in pain.

He glared at me once he’d recovered enough to be able to move, getting to his feet shakily and pulling me up by my hair. He looked like he was about to rip my head off for a second but his gaze softened from murderous to just a tiny bit pissed off. He ran some of my hair through his fingers almost lovingly, a soft smile breaking out on his lips.

“Your hair would look nice with some blonde in it”

The End

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