Chapter 3: Keith
Keith opened the door, holding it open for me. I passed into the mudroom, which was cleaner than any spot in my house. I took off my shoes and waited for Keith in the hall where it connected with carpeted steps.
He pointed left. “Up the stairs.”
I nodded and climbed with Keith three strides behind me.
Doors flanked both sides of another hallway at the top of the steps.
“How many bedrooms are up here?” I asked.
“Five, wait… uh, yeah, five.”
“What? How many siblings?”
He laughed, “There are eight of us.”
“Shit,” I said, covering my lips.
“Yeah, Bret, children are present. Watch your fucking language,” he smirked, then nudged the door open to the first room to the right.
Stacks of books, waist-high, lined the wall behind and beyond the end of the bed. But on the bookshelf, scarcely any. Next to a small closet, a desk, and an open laptop.
Keith sat on the bed. My throat tightened. I swallowed, my shaft roused.
“Use the desk chair,” he said.
Thank God, I’m going to show through my pants in seconds, so I turned around, went, and sat, then rolled the seat towards Keith.
Keith was texting, his biceps and forearms flexing and rippling. “He asked if you’re ok,” Keith said.
“Stanley?” I asked.
Keith nodded, “Can I tell him you are?”
It hit me, the ride, the sudden suggestion to go here, Stanley yards away. All of it, part of their plan to get me in bed with Mr. Popular. I’d been such an idiot, Keith was trying to come through for his best friend.
I acknowledged and glanced back at the sleeping laptop screen. “Yeah, you can tell him.”
Keith continued texting and reading, “He says, he’s sorry if he pressured you to do something you weren’t ready for.”
“No, uh, I didn’t feel pressured, uh, not really,” I said. “I just don’t understand what happens now.”
“Alright, if I text him that?” Keith asked.
I nodded.
“He just responded, ‘Nothing unless you want.'”
The phone vibrated again in his hand. He squinted. “Oh, and the next one says, ‘I know what I want.'”
“Do you, uh, know what he wants?” I asked.
“I mean,” Keith clears his throat, “you want to hear what he likes in bed?”
“Well, no, I wasn’t asking that, but,” I cleared my throat too, “I need to hear about, uh, that too now, anything, uh, you can tell me.”
I wanted to hear what Keith liked in sordid detail. See a tent in his trousers, perhaps. Keith’s legs were crossed, I could see partially up the leg of his shorts. It shouldn’t have aroused me to this degree. I saw him far more naked than now ever practice. My swelling cock crept up my leg. I arched over it, elbows resting on my knees.
“Stan should be the one to talk to you about that,” he said.
“Come on, Keith. If I hear what he wants, uh, maybe I’ll be cool with it,” I said. “Or make myself cool with it.”
Left leg crossed away from Keith to obscure my rock-hard cock; I leaned, positioning it as far from him as possible, wedging my left knee into my armpit.
“That looks uncomfortable,” Keith said.
A jolt of fear shot up my spine.
“Here, let me get you set up with some blankets or something,” he said.
I spun on the seat, following Keith’s movement across his room to keep my crotch hidden. As ridiculous as I probably looked, I thought, it couldn’t be worse than him seeing my rager.
Keith pulled out blankets and sheets from a tall cabinet behind the door swing and spread each out, stacking them. The flex of his calves, thighs, and arms were mesmerizing, even fully clothed. I could watch the subtle bob and swing of his dick through his shorts all day. I tried to discern if he was wearing underwear; inconclusive.
“Ok, more texts from Stanley,” he said.
“He’s asking ‘what would help you be more comfortable’, and ‘we can take things slow.'”
“It’d help me if I had some clues about what he wanted,” I said.
“Ok fine, the guy is like walking ‘TMI’ so, why would he care if I told you a thing or two?” Keith said. “Ok, let me think, Ok, yeah, so, I’ve seen him hang with lots of different guys, but he chases quite a few white guys.”
“That doesn’t help. I want to hear about, uh, what he wants, like, in bed.”
“Fine, ok. So, huh, well, he says he’s a power bottom.”
I gulped, “You mean–”
“Come on, man, no details, huh?” Keith implored. “You understand right, you watch porn, no?”
I turned away as if slapped.
“Hey, man, I’m sorry, that came out wrong. I’m cool with, uh, gay stuff, ok? I guess I just assumed you’d, you’d know certain things.”
My face twisted back towards him, but I didn’t look him in the eye. I drew a sharp breath and sighed. “I don’t have internet at home”
“Fuck, man. That sucks.”
I squeezed my jaw shut.
“Hey, if you want to google some stuff, or ya know, watch porn tonight, that’s fine,” Keith said. “That’s what I use it for most.”
He chucked, and I looked up to meet his eyes.
“He, ya know, Stan, he likes to take it up the butt,” Keith said.
“I knew that much.”
“Well, fuck, Bret. Why’d you make–”
“To make you squirm.”
Keith threw a pillow at me. “Goddamn it.”
We laughed. Hanging with Keith was the best.
“I need to tell him I told you about that,” Keith said.
“Wait,” I said. “You can tell him, uh, I just, just need to know some other stuff.”
“Sure, but like what?” Keith asked.
“Like, I don’t know. Like, is he going to like tell everyone? Tell people we’re dating? We’re boyfriends? That we’re fucking?”
“He knows you’re not out, he won’t out you,” Keith said. “He can be an ass, but he’s not that big of one.”
Keith chuckled. I smiled at him.
“Stan will keep this quiet as long as you want,” he said.
“How, like, how are we going to be together without people knowing, the team knowing, my, my dad knowing?”
“You need to ask Stan about that, in person,” Keith said.
“Text him, message him, then tomorrow, tomorrow I’ll chat with him?”
“You could go talk to him now,” Keith said.
My lips swished left and across my teeth. “I want to sleep on it,” I said.
“He’ll be disappointed,” Keith said. “But he’ll understand.”
I peered downward, “Thank you.”
“Here, let me log in to my laptop, and you, uh, you, do what you need to do.”
He spun me around and pushed me to the desk by the back of his chair. Over my shoulder, he reached and entered his password. The screen unlocked. A thin woman in a bikini on the desktop. Keith scrolled as he arched over me. His stomach was so close; I drew a long breath through my nose. The smells of chlorine, laundry detergent, musk, it was intoxicating. My semi-soft dick twitched. He clicked on the browser icon and a window popped open over the girl in the bikini.
“Here you go,” Keith said, retreating behind me, springs boing as he lands on the mattress.
“But keep it down, huh? I have practice in the morning,” Keith said.
I peeked back at him and smiled.
I pecked at the keyboard. “Gay Swimmer.”
Click.
Marus Th–, click. Nice abs, but Keith is so much hotter.
Back.
Greg Louganis, is he a swimmer? Oh, a diver. Woah, did he get hotter as he got older? Super hot at the Olympics.
“Stanley wants to know if he can have your number.”
I jumped, “Uh, um, text me his number? Tell him, I’ll text him tomorrow.”
“K,” Keith said.
My phone vibrates.
I clicked on the search field, setting the cursor behind “Gay Swimmer” and typed,
“P-O-R-N”
Click.
“Hey Bret,” Keith said, I jumped again. “Can you hit that switch over there near the door?”
“Sure,” I said.
Lights off, I walked back to the desk.
I sat and clicked the first result.
‘Gay swimmers fuck’, woah, that pic. I scrolled down the page, ‘Swimmer changes in locker room,’ I click. A brown-haired guy, probably in his early twenties with a six-pack and smooth skin, stared at the camera in his locker and pulls down on his shorts. His cock dangled about 6 inches, soft. My cock pulsed, inflating and gliding up the side of my lap. The guy posed, staring at the camera with a seductive expression. He strode back and forth, grabbed his towel, posed again. Then he stepped into his boxer briefs and pulled them up over his junk. The video ended.
Fuck, what the hell? That’s all?
Back.
The previous page loaded.
I clicked on a thumbnail featuring two athletic guys. One was pressed his hips against the backside of the other, who was lying on his back on a locker room bench, legs up and spread.
Click.
The two men removed clothes between lockers, alternating glances, gawking. Their eyes finally met, both naked, and they smile and caress their bodies seductively, and winking. I handled the end of my engorging prick through my slacks. The men on screen approached one another and kiss, dicks hardening. One kneeled and stroked the other. I unbuttoned and unzipped my pants, stood, and swiveled to confirm Keith still slept. The screen, the only light source. I squinted. He wasn’t visible. I listened, hearing quiet, consistent breaths. My jeans and boxer briefs. I slid to my knees, then relaxed down. With the base in hand, I caressed the top four inches with the opposite. On the display, the dude on his knees deep throated the thick seven-incher, from time to time just stroking it, facing up at the standing man, and grinning. Further down my shaft, I descended six inches, then up. The guy blowing laid down on a bench, lifting his legs in the air. His stiff prick in hand, the guy on his feet, guides it. As I watched him ram the full length in, I felt pre-cum oozing on over fingers. My heartbeat and breathing intensified. The dude getting fucked moaned while he worked his rod. As the fucking escalated, the top said things like, “Yeah, you like that, slut?” “You like my big hard cock pounding your tight ass?”
I was growing close, tilting backward, shutting my eyes. I licked my lips and pumped my shaft.
From behind, I heard Keith shift, roll, and bellow.
“Keith,” I hissed in a loud whisper.
“Keith? Are you awake?”
No answer.
I grabbed the monitor and turn it so if he was awake he can’t see what I was watching. Even though he’d given me permission, by habit or instinct, I still preferred to hide it. My cock gave up some of its firmness. Fuck, I was so close.
I needed to be sure that Keith was sleeping. I preferred I wasn’t the reason he didn’t. It would be impossible to finish with that guilt.
I removed bottoms and stepped out of them, tripping slightly. From the desk, I hoisted the laptop with one hand and tiptoed to the bed, my half-hard dick swaying back and forth with each step. From the ankle down, I saw one of Keith’s feet hanging over the bed’s edge. I shuffled closer. His calf lit, knee, and other foot nearly touching his other thigh, knee bent, heel pointing at his groin. My heart leaped, my breath paralyzed. He wasn’t sleeping naked; I assured myself. He had some kind of covering, at least.
Forward, the light traveled with me. I drew closer, showing more and more of Keith’s bare flesh. There it was, no boxers, no sheet. He was nude, his dick roused, resting in the nook of his V. My cock jolted, inflating like a balloon, the angle between my shaft and navel shrinking quickly.
I stared, pushing forward. His head twisted and facing his bicep, both arms above his shoulders, elbows bent, forearms above his skull. With each breath, his strong muscular pecks lifted up and down.
“Keith, Keith, man. You awake?”
The middle of my thighs reached the bed. I set the computer to near the bed corner. I tapped his shin, “Keith?”
He adjusted slightly. I maneuvered back; the laptop highlighting the seams between each defined muscle, chest, abdomen, and upper thighs. His sheer masculine beauty was incredible. I tiptoed to him again, silent and cautious. I patted his shin once more and called his name, louder this time.
Just a sniff, that’s all, to appreciate his scent; know what his, what it smells like. I pushed my palms down against the bed, lifting each hip, then its knee onto it as well. My breath I held tight, kneeling. I wrapped my forefinger and thumb around his left ankle. Between my ears, my heart drummed. I lifted his ankle and swung it out, straightening his leg. The zipping glide of skin over bedsheet was the only sound. I slid closer, careful to minimize perceivable movement until my nose hung just millimeters from Keith’s perfect cock. About five inches, it was–it was the hottest, most exquisite thing I’d ever seen. The shape, proportion, color, texture, circumcision scare, the parts of the whole, all of it, flawless, glorious. Onto my heels I squatted, tilting toward his groin, belly on my thighs, my cock smashed, aching. I risked spreading my legs, relieving the pressure on my prick and balls. They fell slightly toward the mattress. Closer, I wiggled and contorted. I grabbed a weighty breath through my nostrils. The aroma of him sent a shiver through my bones, goosebumps down my limbs.
I craved touching it, feeling it in my grip. He mentioned he’s ‘cool with gay stuff,’ I justified. It doesn’t matter, a hand is a hand. I convinced myself. Arms bent, elbows pointed toward my ass, my forearms resting on the mattress. I twisted to uncoil limbs and lift my rib cage, then wedge my elbows between my legs and chest. With my pointer finger, I extend to touch his tip, then added my thumb, lightly squeezing the head. His cock hardened. I gulped, working to control my breath. From top to base, I trace my fingers down his urethra.
With my other palm, I moved under his sack and held him. The heat of his crotch warmed my hand. I discerned the undulation of his testes under the skin of his sack. Keith had an impressive pair.
I wrapped my fist around his rod; I delivered a slight squeeze. It flexed, becoming harder. For a minute, I hesitated and took notice. His breath was unchanged.
A hand encircling him. I rubbed up, then down, then stopped, listening anew. I was good, no signs he was waking. Up and down, my hand pumped, my gaze locked on his tip. A drip of pre-cum accumulated like morning dew. I wished to sample it.
He was a hot-blooded teenage boy. How could he say no? He lusted after it, needed a warm mouth on his rod, just like all men. I needed to make Keith feel good. He’d appreciate this, and I’d love to give it.
I stuck out my tongue. The moment I touched the droplet; it spread over my taste buds, a complex sweetness with light notes of umami.
I salivated, needing more. I pulled his shaft towards my mouth and pressed the head against my tongue, closing my lips. On his glands, I lathered him in my fresh saliva. Now he was mine. I gripped his sack and dragged his cock in and out of my mouth. At first, l used my right hand to hold and stoke the shaft, then I wanted it all, all of him in me. My speed gained. The bed squeaked. I forced myself to ease. His hips trembled, offering me confidence. My eagerness flared. I needed to savor it all, swallow every ounce.
“Bret!” Keith yelled.
I fell backward onto the floor with a terrible thud. The air knocked out of me, my ribs stabbed with pain.
“What the hell, man?” Keith said, more quietly, but with just as much anger.
“I–I–I,” tears pumped into my eyes, “I’m sorry.”
It was too much. I broke into a sob.
“Fuck,” he said, his fists punching the bed. “That’s not cool, not cool!”
At the sight of my tears and fearful face, he softened, “Don’t do that, man, please. Stop crying. I’m not mad. Well, I am, but not about–everything.”
I choked back my tears, raising my blood-red eyes to brave Keith’s face.
“It’s not cool to make moves on people who aren’t, ya know, aware or, uh, taking part.”
My gaze drifted to the carpet.
“If you would have asked me,” Keith paused, “Well, I would have said, ‘no.'”
Teeth crushed down, he groaned.
Meekness in my expression, I peered up again.
“Goddamn it,” he said.
He looked at the ceiling, his head shaking, his arms folded.
“What are we gonna do now?”
Keith eyed his crotch.
“God, it hurts, fucking blue as hell.”
My eyes ricocheted between the floor and his face.
“Bret, man.” Keith’s head shook again, “it isn’t cool what you did, but–”
I studied his face.
“But even less cool to leave a bro hanging like this.”
My mouth gaped.
He said, “Get up here, and finish, ok?”
He laid back down. His hands gripping each side of a pillow tight over his skull.
I stood and approached. The computer still provided the only light. I cupped his balls, still drenched in my spit. His legs bent and squirmed in some kind of futile protest, a yell dampened by the pillow. Between my finger and thumb, I squeezed the base of his cock, pointing it to my lips. I devoured him fully. He tensed. If this was the last time I ever taste him, I was going to make it count. I bounced on his dick like I was a starving calf, slurping and drooling.
Keith ripped the pillow off his face. “Bret, oh my God, I’m gonna cum.”
He held my face down on his shaft with both hands. His semen pumped to the back of my mouth, filling it. I gulped. He growled and gasped as I swallowed more. I had a part of Keith inside me. A deep sense of contentment radiated my body. He’d been my first, and I couldn’t have dreamed it better.
“Fuckin’ hell, Bret, why did you have to be so great at that?”
Keith rose, scooting back, his breath heavy, and face hunched over his drained prick.
“Shit, that was mind-shattering,” he said.
He peered up at me. “There’s no way I’m gonna take on that thing, no matter how great it was.” He gestured with his chin at my erection draped over my legs.
“Get dressed, I’ll drive you home,” Keith said.
The drive was quiet and excruciating. We were halfway to my drop-off before Keith made a peep.
“Bret, hey.” He clapped my shoulder. “You’re a cool dude and a great teammate, but,” Keith paused, looked out the side window.
“But there is no way in hell we can tell Stanley and this cannot happen again.”
I nodded, staring ahead at the street.
“Seriously, I can’t imagine what a shit show that would be.”
“I get it. I won’t say a thing,” I said.
“Not your mom, not your dad, no–.”
“Keith, I’m not gonna say anything, ok?”
“Good.”
A quiet lingered. Homes and streets regressed the closer we got to my neighborhood. Potholes, ill-repaired cracks, completely faded lane markers, and disheveled and abandoned homes book-ended by filthy gas stations, liquor, and convenient stories on every main street corner.
He said again, “You have no business being so good at that.”
I shifted my face from his view, forcing my lips together to disguise a grin. He said it shouldn’t happen again, but I was willing if he needed a draining.
Now, at the cross streets, Keith pulled his truck off to the side. “Are you sure you don’t want me to take you all the way?”
I smirked. “You said you didn’t want to do that.”
Keith shifted his jaw and swung his head around, “You know what I mean.”
“I’m sure. Just leave me, uh, here, please. Go home and, uh, get some sleep.” I said, adamant.