Tom Tops Me

It's been some years since I wrote the first and most recent instalment of my experiences with my close friend Tom. So why have I chosen to continue writing about them now? Tom and I fell out of touch over the years, as we grew into adulthood our lives simply moved apart. Recently however, we managed to see eachother again. What happened during that reunion will be the subject of another "episode", but suffice to say it jogged my memory of earlier times and spurred me on to resume my accounts, as much for my own sake as for any potential reader's. So apologies for the long hiatus; I doubt many people will read this who read the first part when it came out, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless.

In the first chapter (which I suggest you read for the background) my sexuality had been brought into question by my oldest and closest friend, Tom. At what had initially seemed an ordinary sleepover, I had become aroused by tales of his former exploits, and we had done some "experimenting" of our own.

...

The next morning it was as if nothing had happened. We woke up, wandered bleary-eyed downstairs to the kitchen and made ourselves breakfast and coffee, all while saying very little. When it became clear that the events of the night before would remain unspoken, conversation began to flow more naturally again. We talked about video games, and the upcoming week at school, but not at all about what was pressing on my mind. The time passed and I soon found myself thanking his parents for having me over and catching the bus back to my house.

I've always believed that you can often best be alone when in a public place. As I rode the bus home I had time to myself to think about what had happened, and what it might mean. Was I gay? I certainly didn't think so. I still wanted to chase the girls at the local private school, but clearly something had changed; or perhaps more accurately, I had realised something about myself that I had till now been unaware of.

I know a few friends - one of whom the boy who Tom had experimented with before - who have deeply struggled to come to terms with their sexuality. And as much as I understand the difficult mental situation that such people often go through, I honestly cannot say it's something which had ever bothered me after that first night with Tom. The night before had been a frantic, almost unthinking, experience, but I will equally always remember that bus journey home as the moment I no longer felt the need to put any kind of label on my sexuality. If I felt like fooling around with a girl, I'd go for it, and the same for guys.

But this set of stories is primarily about Tom, and so to my experiences with him I will now return. What had surprised me about the night before was how much I had enjoyed taking on the more passive role of being the one sucking his dick, rather than the other way round. As great as Tom's prowess for oral sex was (and remains), the eye-opening part of the evening for me had been the pleasure I had received from pleasing him. You will remember how I had even ejaculated with next to no stimulation while I was going down on him, I was so turned on by the feeling of his cock in my mouth.

Indeed, as soon as I'd got off the bus and walked back to my house, I went straight upstairs and almost ripped my pants and trousers off. As I had done many times before, I began masturbating; only this time I imagined it was a smaller version of Tom's penis I was stroking and I jerked myself off not in the usual functional way, but how I imagined Tom would want to be were it really his cock I was holding. I began with long, slow strokes, gently squeezing precum from the tip. I gathered this with my fingers and let the taste remind me of Tom, then continued at a faster pace. I alternated between this speed and the slower pace before, teasing myself, but imagining I was drawing out his pleasure rather my own. Of course, what I really wanted was to be performing oral sex once more, but I had to make do. Now, I moved my free hand down to my balls and teased them with my fingers. I could feel this was bringing me closer and closer to the edge so I increased the speed at which my hand was moving, now moaning as quietly as I could. My orgasm tore through me - the best I had ever given myself - and to my surprise I felt the first spurt of hot semen hit the underside of my chin, the rest of them covering my chest and stomach.

I felt dirty. Only this time there was no sense of shame in that fact, but I found myself revelling in it. As I lay there with one hand still on my scrotum and my body covered with the fruit of my own ministrations, I knew a whole new avenue of sexual adventure was open to me now I had let go of the compulsion I had felt before to be strictly heterosexual. It was one of the most exciting periods of my life, as if I'd been exploring what I'd thought to be the world's most beautiful garden, only to find a hole in its wall, to have crawled through and to have found myself in another garden of equal but differing delights. I repeated my lurid performance twice more that Sunday.

Just as the morning at Tom's house had been surprisingly normal, so too was our first day at school together after that night. I remain sure to this day that no-one detected any sign of what had gone on over the weekend from me or him, we simply continued as normal and did not mention it to eachother even when far away from ears desperate for teenage gossip. It seemed to be business as usual. I'm not a hundred percent sure what I was actually expecting to be different, but I couldn't help but feel disappointed somehow, especially when Tuesday came and went by in exactly the same manner.

By the time we came out of our class just before lunch on Wednesday, it appeared to be shaping up as the third disappointing day in a row. That afternoon we were due to have a double Games lesson, which in mine and Tom's books meant an afternoon off school. We were by no means lazy, nor at all in bad shape, but for the last couple of years we'd managed to skive nearly every Games lesson that the sports department -- our bitter enemies - had tried to force us into. Instead, we would wander casually into town and sit in one the many charming, back-alley pubs that could be found there. Sometimes, when the weather was warmer, we'd buy ourselves a bottle of wine and sit by the river, watching our class-mates playing cricket in the playing fields from the secluded park on the other bank. The teachers, often fully aware of our exploits, never seemed to mind our Wednesday trips out as we were otherwise near-model students.

We had a normal lunchbreak that day: the school food was the definition of mediocrity, and we had spent the rest of it sat in the common room, chatting with our friends about not much in particular. When the bell rang, signalling that lunch was over and P.E. about to begin, I was surprised to see Tom grab his sports bag from the rack and begin heading towards the sports hall. Not wanting to be left behind, I grabbed mine as well and followed him. Why wasn't he skipping Games like we usually did? Had someone finally given him a bollocking for his truancy, or was he actually trying to avoid spending time alone with me? I ran and caught up to him, joking about how shocked the sports teachers would be to see these two unfamiliar faces, and together we filed into the changing rooms with the rest of our classmates.

Still a little confused, and more than a little concerned that my close friend might be feeling awkward and trying to stop spending time with me on my own, I began changing into my rarely used rugby gear; plain black shorts and a white rugby jersey emblazoned with our school's logo. I had got as far as taking off my school shirt when Tom, now shirtless as well, excused himself and slipped quietly off into the loo. I thought nothing of this at first and continued changing in my own world, putting on my jersey and then changing my grey school trousers for the rugby shorts.

It was only when I'd finished changing, and boys started filing back out of the changing rooms, with Tom having been in the toilet far longer than he could possibly need, that I realised my worst fears had been confirmed. He was ignoring me. He was going to hide until I went to Games with everyone else and then he was going to slip out of school by himself. I was no longer disappointed; I was furious. In my stubbornness, I made up my mind. I was going to sit there waiting until he decided it was 'safe' to come out, and I was going to tell him what an absolute dickhead he was for trying to pull something like this off, all because he couldn't handle the awkwardness of having hooked up with his best friend.

I never said a word.

I heard the door unlock and my head bolted round to see Tom quite sheepishly opening the door, still shirtless. He didn't look at all shocked or surprised to see me still there, which took me aback long enough for me to see a rather coy smile form on his face. Intrigued, and not wanting to be the first one to speak until I'd been able to judge the situation better, I found my eyes rapidly widening as Tom looked directly at me and unfastened his trousers, letting them drop to his ankles and stepping out of them. I could see from the bulge in his tight briefs that he was already on the way to a full erection, and this set me off down the same path.

I never said a word.

Forgetting all my previous anger, I realised he had been hiding in wait after all, but not to avoid private contact with me; to ensure it. My heart was absolutely pounding in my chest, and I could feel adrenaline being pumped through my body, making my thoughts race and my mind bold. I pulled off my rugby jersey as quickly as I could and - almost without registering what I was doing - I walked over and dropped to my knees in front of him. It was his turn to be surprised.

The outline of his swelling cock was enticing me, I reached up with my hand a lightly stroked it. It responded by growing even more rapidly, and to my delight I saw him close his eyes in pleasure and a small wet patch of precum begin to form on his pants where the tip of his penis must've been. That was all I needed to lose myself anew. I yanked his pants down and Tom's large dick burst out in front of my face, fully erect now, with a few drops of precum gathered on its head. I wasted no time in grabbing the lower half of his shaft and giving a couple of deep, long strokes to tease out another drop. Then, only now fully appreciating just how much I had wanted this, I began to lick the head and underside of his cock, all while continuing stroking him with my hand. I was greedily lapping every drop as it came, and it was nearly impossible to tell who was enjoying the experience more.

I felt Tom's hand grasp the hair on the back on my head, gently but insistently, and I knew he wanted more. Opening my mouth further, in one slow motion I swallowed the first few inches of his cock. He moaned. I held it there for a good few seconds, still slowly stroking with my right hand, then pulled my mouth back again. It was only the second time I'd done anything with a man, and here I was, sucking cock for all I was worth with my knees on the changing room floor and my own erection straining against my pants. I moved my head back down his shaft again, this time engulfing an extra inch. He moaned again, this time noticeably louder.

For the next couple of minutes I worked up a gradually increasing rhythm, bobbing my head up and down the first half of his cock while my hand stroked the rest of it to the same rhythm. With my free hand I released my own dick and started to stroke it to the same pace as I was blowing my friend, who I could sense was getting closer and closer to his orgasm. He grabbed my hair again, only now he used it to force my head further and faster down his shaft. I'd never been treated like this before, but I was incensed by how used and submissive I felt. It got to the point where I was getting so much in my mouth that using my hand on him was becoming increasingly redundant, so I took it off and used it to steady myself instead. I was moaning now, and a large part of my arousal stemmed from the fact that if anybody were to walk in now they'd see me furiously stroking my cock and moaning in sheer pleasure as Tom was pumping almost the entire length of his dick into my mouth. I was so turned on I wasn't even sure if I would stop if someone really did walk in.

I had been primarily focused on my mouth; enjoying the sensation of having Tom in my mouth, and making it as pleasurable as possible for him by working my tongue to tease him further as I was blowing him. Suddenly however I now realised that I was on the verge of a huge orgasm myself. As I was letting out the tell-tale groans of pleasure and masturbating even faster, Tom realised what was going on and took action that was both instinctive and indicative of what the sexual dynamic between us had become. With his hand still firmly on the back of my head, I felt Tom push me deeper than I had gone before; there was a moment of slight resistance where I thought my gag reflex would overpower me, but he pushed past it and I felt the whole length of his 8 inch cock down my throat. Things have been moving in this direction for a while, but the gently assertive force with which he did it and the sensation of being used for his pleasure sent me over the edge. As he drew his cock out of my throat, thick ropes of my cum shot onto the floor of the changing room. My orgasm continued as he penetrated me again, and I could tell from his contractions he was close too. "I want you to swallow my cum," was the first thing he said to me that afternoon, and as he said it he unloaded into my mouth. I obliged. The taste, not unpleasant itself, heightened by the eroticism of the whole scenario.

After it was done, we both collapsed on the bench next to us, both panting, and me with the lingering salty taste in my mouth. I was the first to speak; "That was incredible."

"I know," he replied, "you'd better come round to mine again soon." We both laughed,and after cleaning ourselves up in the shower set off for our normal afternoon of misadventures.