Authors note: This is my attempt at sharing a true-ish story. I know everyone on here claims that, but trust me on this one. Also, I suck at writing. This is one of the first times since school I’ve tried my hand at it. So, any and all feedback is extremely welcome! Also, every Character in this story is 18 years of age.
James hadn’t had a lot of free time lately. His senior schedule had become significantly more bloated than expected. Between swimming, debate, and theater, there was practically no time for himself. That was what was making this bus ride so enjoyable, just hours alone to finally just relax.
He was on his way to the second to last swim meet of the season. Just a few weeks until a break from the monotony of endless laps through the same 50 meters of water. But four years of this nightmarish routine had at least done his body good. James was in the best shape of his life. Slimmer than the average swimmer, he still had the expected build. Boxy and somewhat well defined, he had finally started to feel a bit of confidence in his own appearance when staring into the mirror each morning. However, one part of this look was beginning to keep him down. James had recently bleached his hair blond, as was the custom at the end of each season for Meadows Ridge High School. But unhappy with the look, he had finally caved and buzzed 3 years of growth that very morning. This shift in “style” had really thrown him off. It was rough that even after years of building it up, all it took for his confidence to leave was one razer and five minutes, but this bus ride was about to bring him to an even bigger state of mental panic and confusion. Here is his story.
I sat in the back left of the bus alone. The rows next to and around me were full of equipment, letting me feel wholly isolated and effectively able to wallow in self-pity effectively. Just as my thoughts determined what kind of hat I would need to buy to hide the mistake on the top of my head, I heard a familiar voice. “Why do you look like your about to cry.” I turned to see the lone diver of Meadows Ridge, Oscar Campbell, sliding down the aisle into the seat next to me.
Oscar was an incredibly pale guy with a mop of carefully styled pitch-black hair on his head. This was not who I wanted to see right now with his magazine quality mane, but I knew that there was no way I could get him to leave without playing along for a bit.
While we got along rather well, I sometimes found him to be more than a little overwhelming. We both shared a love of movies, and I knew he wanted to hear my opinion on Looper, a Rian Johnson film I had seen a few days prior with our mutual friend.
“Just having a rough few hours, I’m still mourning the loss of my hair,” I replied sheepishly.
“I can see that,” he says, glancing up. “At least you won’t have to waste time shoving it into your cap today.” Somehow this had the opposite effect of comforting me, and I could feel myself welling up. This train of thought made me even more self-conscious than I already was. I’m about to cry because I’m embarrassed about maybe crying! HOW PATHATIC WAS THAT? I thought to myself.
Sensing I was not exactly stable, Oscar forced a change in the subject “so I heard you saw looper. What did you think? Emily Blunt was pretty great, right?”
We talked for the next hour about movies. This was the first time, in a while, it was just Oscar and me alone. While we had never been great friends, we ran in a lot of the same circles. The year prior, we had both been in the ensemble for our school’s production of beauty and beast, and that’s where I had gotten to know him a lot better. While the swim team and our school’s singular diver often practiced in the same space, our time didn’t overlap. So besides occasionally seeing him walk into the showers as we left or a wave as he walked past the lane to the high dive. It felt like he was in a different sport altogether.
Personality-wise, Oscar was someone who appeared shy and silent until you got to know him, then his personality would undergo metamorphosis and come out the other side completely reversed. Now overly friendly and ready to talk about any topic for as long as possible, Oscar felt like a different person when you got to know him. But as soon as someone he didn’t know showed up, this change would shut down, leading him crawling back into his shell. My main problem with the guy wasn’t his dual nature. In fact, I liked that part of him, It was endearing. It was instead how he was incredibly touchy. During our movie conversation alone, he probably put his hand on my shoulder or knee nine times at least. I just wasn’t used to this much human touch from anyone, but it was just his MO.
“So, are you ready to talk about whatever was bothering you when I first walked over,” Oscar asked? I had just finished monologuing about my issue with the film Prometheus’s ties to the Alien franchise. I was hardly ready for this swift conversation switch.
“Um… I’m just… a little… disappointed with my haircut,” I stammered as I pointed up. Empathy washed over Oscar’s face.
“Oh dude, I totally understand. It always feels like everyone is looking whenever you change anything like that. You know, I honestly thought you were just panicking about the 400 relays, and to be honest, I think your hair looks great short.” These simple words from someone like Oscar, who always looked so put together, were all I needed to feel a little better. So for or the first time since staring at myself in the bathroom this morning, I felt relaxed.
Until Oscar suddenly brought his hand quickly down on my thigh with a soft slap. “I’m sure you’re going to power through that thing, dude you’re ready for it,” Oscar stated with an optimistic look on his face. My face, however, must have been full of panic. Thanks to the swim meet, I was wearing a speedo with only basketball pants on over. Oscar’s hand had landed in the middle of my thigh. Unfortunately for me, this had brought his pinky and ring finger in contact with the head of my penis.
Although I didn’t know it at the time, having minimal experience, I was quite well endowed. Specifically, I was a shower, not a grower. Soft, I was a little over five inches and had difficulty fitting all that into my incredibly tight swim trunks. I often found that pushing it down the right leg of my speedo would lessen the size of my bulge and leave me much more comfortable, but my soft cock reached much farther down my leg than you would expect. All this added to my current predicament.
This incidental contact, combined with my momentary calmness, and the brief emotional connection I had just felt, lead to an immediate and unexpected reaction. Blood began rushing down into my cock. It slowly twitched, then rapidly widened, pushing up against his hand already reaching his middle finger. I felt his grip lessen slightly. There was no way he could ignore my snake before it started growing, let alone now. Then without a hint of acknowledgment, he pushed down with more pressure, his fingers expanding to allowing me to swell. An almost inaudible moan escaped my lips, and I looked Oscar straight in the eyes.
“You know, I think that Ryan’s’ backstroke is actually looking really sloppy. Has anyone even talked to him about that? Someone should say Something,” Oscar continued his face with the same stoic (do you have something you want to talk about) look as before when he changed the subject from movies. Not even a hint that would suggest he had, in any way noticed, my rapidly hardening dick in his hands.
At this point, my cock had reached his thumb, he lifted it, allowing my now swollen head to pass. Seconds later, I was at full mast, and he lowered his thumb back down right under the ridge of my cockhead, slowing running it along with my engorged head before stopping and bringing his other fingers tightly around my girthy shaft. I moaned, this time much louder, and his hand stopped completely, “I know, right like why won’t he work on it? he’s going to bring the whole team down!” Oscar’s face had stayed the same throughout the whole ordeal even now, with my dick rock hard in his hand. He looked utterly calm, even a little uninterested.
“Uh… yes… I think he should work on th” I tried to say, when suddenly, Oscar’s hand gently slid up then swiftly down the full length of my cock. “OH, shit,” I mumbled.
“I’m sorry, what was that,” Oscar purred, showing the hint of enjoyment on his face for the first time since he had touched my thigh. Before I could reply, someone yelled, “Oscar, come check this out!” from the middle of the bus. Without a moment’s hesitation, his finger unclasped my cock, and he stood up.
For a second, he paused, looking down at the obscene throbbing bulge running down my right pant leg. My eyes followed his down to my own cock, struggling against its enclosure, pulsing along to my rapid heartbeat.
“Hey, James.” I turned my eyes back to Oscar, who was now staring at his hand in a circle, his fingers far apart, gauging the width of my sex. “Good luck today,” and with that, he bolted to the middle of the bus–leaving me confused, scared, and stiff.
To be continued…