Tim grinned, spinning in his chair to face me. My laptop lay forlornly on the desk, it's insides ripped out and placed on the side.
'I might be able to fix it.' He smiled, grabbing a screw driver from a drawer behind him.
'I hope so, you managed to disembowel it easily enough.' I grimaced, prodding a ball of red and black wires with my finger.
I leaned back, wincing as the swivel chair I was sat on released a nasty screeching noise.
'That chair's broken.' Muttered Tim, not looking up from the screws he had in the center of his palm.
'Yeah, I got that, thanks.' I grinned, leaning forwards and drumming my fingers on the desk.
My laptop was fucked. I'd grown to accept that over the last year. Tim was my techie. The guy I went to when my laptop decided it was time to go to sleep. The deal was simple. Tim fixed my laptop, I sucked his cock...
I wish. The truth was, Tim was straight. Like, seriously straight. Irritatingly straight. The most infuriating part about it all was that he was fucking hot too. I'd spent many afternoons round his house as he twiddled with my laptop, nimble fingers pressing certain buttons and undoing tangled wires. I'd seen his cock a few times as well, a sideways glance rendering an image that was be burned into my memory just enough to linger as a vague recollection, but not enough for me to completely picture it on demand. And believe me, Tim's cock was something you wanted to be able to picture on demand.
That was the thing with me. I'd managed to make friends with the guys who were hot, hung and straight. For the first 2 years, everything was fine. I saw them as no more than good friends. Then I realized I was gay. Still it was OK until I saw their dicks, and then I was thrown into a helpless state of infatuation, every waking moment thinking of ways to get their cocks out of their pants. Tim was the latest in the long trail of guys who got me going. But I wasn't really in a position to tell anybody about the late night fantasies I had about stripping guys down to their skivvies and then teasing their cocks until they begged me to suck them. In all honesty, I was downright unpopular. In fact, I think half the people at school knew I was gay, but were just waiting until it became official before they started beating me up for it.
That was the annoying thing. Most of the guys in my year were closeted homophobes. Probably the worst type. The guys who pretend not to have a problem with it, and then unwittingly reveal themselves to the world with a snide comment or a camped up voice, usually complete with a limp wristed sashay. The depressing thing was that you could never tell which were the actual homophobes, and which were the gay guys faking it to stay with the right crowd.
Tim glanced at me, discarding the screwdriver and pressing his thumb against an uncooperative screw.
'Pass me that tape.' He murmured, scratching the dark stubble that ran across his chin with his spare hand.
That was another thing about Tim. He was hairy as fuck. One time I'd come round to his house and he'd answered the door wearing a towel.
'Oh, you've just caught me coming out of the shower. Come upstairs.'
I'd then been treated to an hour of sitting in an empty house with the guy I lusted after sitting in front of me, dripping wet, his nipples stiff. For an hour I'd sat there, my eyes fixed on the bushes of black hair under his pits and the dark trail of pubes that led down into the towel. I almost made a mess in my boxers when he stood up, informing me that he was going to get changed, grabbed a pile of clothes and walked out, letting his towel drop to the floor as he exited stage left. His furry arse had then been on plain view to all those who cared to witness the sheer sexiness of it (mainly me), until he turned the corner and walked into the bathroom.
Another time, I'd caught him just getting changed, and was rewarded for my impeccable timing by being led upstairs by his bubble butt, contained only in a pair of very tight white briefs. Tim was the only 18 year old I knew who still wore briefs, but when he turned around you instantly realized why.
Briefs only work if you can fill them, and boy could Tim fill his briefs. It wasn't even just down to the meat, it was the garnish that decorated the edge of the tiny white pants. His thighs were carpeted in amounts of hair that belied his age, of a color bested only by that of the nest of pubes that was peeking out of the top of the briefs. The cherry on the top was the massive bulge that was on show, the thin white material literally crammed with goodies. I could imagine the fibers of the material groaning as they attempted to keep Tim's meat inside.
I sighed, tactfully positioning my hand to conceal the blossoming erection that was pulling against the shackles of the heavy denim that was holding it in place. I looked at Tim, who was now slotting the back of some sort of plastic case into my laptop, his tongue poking out of the corner of his full, red lips. Hot, hung and straight.
Life's a bitch.
'I might be able to fix it.' He smiled, grabbing a screw driver from a drawer behind him.
'I hope so, you managed to disembowel it easily enough.' I grimaced, prodding a ball of red and black wires with my finger.
I leaned back, wincing as the swivel chair I was sat on released a nasty screeching noise.
'That chair's broken.' Muttered Tim, not looking up from the screws he had in the center of his palm.
'Yeah, I got that, thanks.' I grinned, leaning forwards and drumming my fingers on the desk.
My laptop was fucked. I'd grown to accept that over the last year. Tim was my techie. The guy I went to when my laptop decided it was time to go to sleep. The deal was simple. Tim fixed my laptop, I sucked his cock...
I wish. The truth was, Tim was straight. Like, seriously straight. Irritatingly straight. The most infuriating part about it all was that he was fucking hot too. I'd spent many afternoons round his house as he twiddled with my laptop, nimble fingers pressing certain buttons and undoing tangled wires. I'd seen his cock a few times as well, a sideways glance rendering an image that was be burned into my memory just enough to linger as a vague recollection, but not enough for me to completely picture it on demand. And believe me, Tim's cock was something you wanted to be able to picture on demand.
That was the thing with me. I'd managed to make friends with the guys who were hot, hung and straight. For the first 2 years, everything was fine. I saw them as no more than good friends. Then I realized I was gay. Still it was OK until I saw their dicks, and then I was thrown into a helpless state of infatuation, every waking moment thinking of ways to get their cocks out of their pants. Tim was the latest in the long trail of guys who got me going. But I wasn't really in a position to tell anybody about the late night fantasies I had about stripping guys down to their skivvies and then teasing their cocks until they begged me to suck them. In all honesty, I was downright unpopular. In fact, I think half the people at school knew I was gay, but were just waiting until it became official before they started beating me up for it.
That was the annoying thing. Most of the guys in my year were closeted homophobes. Probably the worst type. The guys who pretend not to have a problem with it, and then unwittingly reveal themselves to the world with a snide comment or a camped up voice, usually complete with a limp wristed sashay. The depressing thing was that you could never tell which were the actual homophobes, and which were the gay guys faking it to stay with the right crowd.
Tim glanced at me, discarding the screwdriver and pressing his thumb against an uncooperative screw.
'Pass me that tape.' He murmured, scratching the dark stubble that ran across his chin with his spare hand.
That was another thing about Tim. He was hairy as fuck. One time I'd come round to his house and he'd answered the door wearing a towel.
'Oh, you've just caught me coming out of the shower. Come upstairs.'
I'd then been treated to an hour of sitting in an empty house with the guy I lusted after sitting in front of me, dripping wet, his nipples stiff. For an hour I'd sat there, my eyes fixed on the bushes of black hair under his pits and the dark trail of pubes that led down into the towel. I almost made a mess in my boxers when he stood up, informing me that he was going to get changed, grabbed a pile of clothes and walked out, letting his towel drop to the floor as he exited stage left. His furry arse had then been on plain view to all those who cared to witness the sheer sexiness of it (mainly me), until he turned the corner and walked into the bathroom.
Another time, I'd caught him just getting changed, and was rewarded for my impeccable timing by being led upstairs by his bubble butt, contained only in a pair of very tight white briefs. Tim was the only 18 year old I knew who still wore briefs, but when he turned around you instantly realized why.
Briefs only work if you can fill them, and boy could Tim fill his briefs. It wasn't even just down to the meat, it was the garnish that decorated the edge of the tiny white pants. His thighs were carpeted in amounts of hair that belied his age, of a color bested only by that of the nest of pubes that was peeking out of the top of the briefs. The cherry on the top was the massive bulge that was on show, the thin white material literally crammed with goodies. I could imagine the fibers of the material groaning as they attempted to keep Tim's meat inside.
I sighed, tactfully positioning my hand to conceal the blossoming erection that was pulling against the shackles of the heavy denim that was holding it in place. I looked at Tim, who was now slotting the back of some sort of plastic case into my laptop, his tongue poking out of the corner of his full, red lips. Hot, hung and straight.
Life's a bitch.
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