Jon From High School Read online

  Jon From High School

  Jeremy Jenkins

  1

  Victor

  Jon shoved me against a locker with a clatter.

  His eyes—Jon Preston’s infamous tawny eyes—bored right into mine.

  Right through me, pinning me.

  My heart was racing.

  We’d been here so many times.

  But now? Now with no one around to see us, late at night in the dark high school hallway, they looked… different.

  They wanted something.

  They wanted me.

  Then his sculpted lips came to mine.

  My knees weakened.

  I wanted to resist. I wanted to push him away, reassert my sense of control. But when the hottest jerk in high school looks at you like you’re the thing he wants most in the world, well…

  My lips melded over his and our tongues danced together.

  It was impossible to resist.

  The only sound in the dark hallway was the slight suckling sound of our kiss.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the halls stretched to infinity, and at the end there was nothing but a window showing darkness outside.

  There was no light at the end of this tunnel.

  I knew that, even then. Back at the beginning, when everything started.

  Jon deepened our kiss and let out a soft groan.

  “Mm,” I moaned, submitting.

  I slid down the locker an inch or so and his mouth followed.

  He pressed himself against me so I was completely sandwiched against the locker.

  I was hot with sexual energy; I didn’t know if it was my own, or if I was conducting it from him.

  Then his thick jock hand—hands that could infamously palm a basketball—went through my teased emo kid hair. I would like to say that they slid through my locks, but they got caught in the tangles, and he awkwardly tugged his hand out.

  I chuckled through the kiss.

  But Jon didn’t. He just kissed me harder.

  That should have been my first warning. The first inkling that Jon wasn’t what he seemed, and that I should run.

  “Mmh…” he moaned into my mouth.

  A shudder came over me and the ache in my lower belly intensified. All rational thought evaporated from my mind as I melted into him.

  His weight pressed me against the locker.

  Here, I didn’t have to think about anything. I could lose myself in the dream; the dream that my high school bully-slash-crush was finally, finally coming onto me.

  His broad chest leaned against me and he deepened our kiss.

  Briefly, the thought drifted to the surface of my mind like a balloon, wondering who he really was, and if it was real.

  It felt like a dream. Actually, I’m pretty sure I dreamed this up a few times.

  His hands went to my face, cupping my jaw as he kissed me harder, moving his head in passionate, sloppy movements. I could feel the rough calluses on his fingers scrape the sides of my face as his hands moved downwards.

  Hurried. Shaking.

  That gave me pause. Everything I knew about Jon Preston told me that he had a laser-sharp focus when it came to anything movement-related. That’s the reason why he was so well-known in our district for basketball.

  He never choked on the court. He never shook.

  But now, as his thick hands traveled down my body, I could feel that he was shaking.

  Was that passion? Or was he just as nervous as I was?

  “Take it off,” he growled in my ear.

  A shudder crawled down my neck and raised the hair on my arms.

  I wanted to protest. I wanted to point out that anyone could walk into this dark hallway at any time and see us.

  But I had to obey. I couldn’t lose my chance with Jon—I might never get a chance like this again.

  I went to grab the hem of my black Metallica tee, but he got there first.

  He pinched the hem and yanked it off of my head.

  I shuddered as the cool air touched my skin, already lightly misted with sweat.

  Jon pulled away, paused.

  He noticed.

  His tawny eyes were dark with lust.

  I’d be okay with that. I’d made peace with the fact that this would probably be a one-time thing. As long as it was just a quick thing, a physical tryst bordering on anonymous, I could forget about him.

  But the look in his eyes now…

  It was compassion.

  And that was dangerous. That made me lean into him a little more; get curious about who he really was underneath his jock dude-bro exterior.

  An echo reverberated through the empty hallway.

  We both turned our heads toward the noise, frozen.

  We were a pair of stags in the headlights.

  The hallway was empty.

  But that sound meant there was someone else in here.

  Jon turned back to me, his blond hair falling perfectly into place.

  A ripple of fear shuddered through me. Was he going to end the hookup? Was he going to pretend it never happened? Were we going to fall back into our social groups tomorrow, me with the degenerates and him with the rest of the dude-bro jocks?

  But then he looked deep into my eyes and whispered, “Band room.”

  Delight surged through me and I nodded. Honestly, I was surprised he even knew this school had a band, let alone that the room was nearby.

  He took my hand and led me through the heavy double doors a few yards away.

  By night, the inside of the band room looked haunted as hell. The chairs and stands looked spindly and wicked in the half-light, black spiky things frozen in time. They were arranged in a half-moon around the conductor’s platform.

  I had a moment to think of how much the scene looked like walking into a giant Venus flytrap, but then Jon had me against a wall again, breathing hard.

  He kissed me again, this time less shaky. More experience. More sure of himself.

  I hoped I came across as sure of myself, too.

  Hell, I’d never felt more out of my awkward, gangly body in my life.

  Jon’s lips crashed against mine again, and his hands went up and down my bare chest.

  I had a fleeting thought that I’d left my shirt out in the hallway, but that didn’t seem to matter much right now.

  Nothing seemed to matter much right now. Only—

  With shaking fingers, I started to pluck at Jon’s buttons.

  He pulled away from the kiss and looked down to watch me, bracing himself against the wall.

  I loved the way his meaty forearms looked on either side of my shoulders. The way his biceps flexed when he shifted his stance and let me touch him like this…

  There was something so… so filled with trust about it.

  Though I knew even though I was taking off his shirt, there were so many more layers to the real Jon. I could unbutton as much as I wanted, but I knew I still wouldn’t really know him.

  All those thoughts scattered from my mind as I finally undid the last button and parted the flaps of his shirt to see—

  Holy mother of God.

  Abs. So many abs flexed and heaved underneath as he panted.

  I mean, I knew Jon Preston was famous for his abs. I often found myself sitting in the bleachers next to a group of girls during his basketball practice, and they would talk in hushed voices about the shirtless demigod as he raced around the court.

  Sure, at the time, I pretended to have my nose in a book.

  But the corner of my eye was always trained on Jon, tracking his naked torso as he dominated the basketball court.

  In one hurried, passionate motion, Jon licked the side of my neck. His warm tongue slid along my sensitive skin, sending uncontr
ollable shudders through me.

  I tilted my head to the side and moaned.

  He smirked, then kissed me on the mouth again.

  I loved the way his warm, naked torso felt against mine. He was solid and hard, and just…

  Man.

  I could feel his stiff ridge rub against mine, and it filled me with a nearly uncontrollable desire.

  I knew what I was doing, and had no idea what I was doing at the same time. I knew by wanting this so much, I was giving away my power, but I couldn’t make myself stop.

  I might never get to be in a situation like this with him again, and I needed to make the most of it.

  Maybe part of him knew that. Actually, he must have known that, because when I pulled away from our kiss and said, “I want to suck your cock,” he smiled like he won something.

  I didn’t care. I was already getting to my knees.

  God, I was so hot and horny for him that I almost came in my pants just getting at eye-level with his cock…

  I wanted to see it. I’d heard rumors of course—

  With expert precision, his hands undid his button and unzipped.

  I watched with awe as he slipped his hand under the waistband of his boxers and pulled it out.

  It wasn’t oh-my-God-big, but it was larger than average—a good seven-incher.

  Suddenly, I felt insecure about my own member. Not that it was too small, but that it was… well, I was more than well-endowed. If Jon was a closeted straight dude, if he saw how big I really was, or that I was bigger than him, it might hurt his ego.

  I had to keep my cock hidden.

  Even though it was tenting my pants like a motherfucker.

  No—if he wanted more, he’d come back for more. I didn’t have to think about that now; I had Jon Preston’s dick in my face.

  And when you have Jon Preston’s dick in your face, the only thing you do is—

  He grabbed his shaft and jiggled it; that gesture that for some reason, all guys feel compelled to do.

  I wrapped my fingers around it to hold it steady and looked up into his eyes.

  In this light, they looked so dark; almost black. Then his mouth formed the words “suck it.”

  I adjusted my posture—this tile floor made my knees ache—and pressed my lips against the tip.

  But I didn’t let him in. Not yet.

  I wanted to show him that I knew what I was doing.

  I wanted to increase the chances that he’d come back for round two.

  Then maybe… I could get him to play with mine.

  My ridiculously huge cock that scared everyone away. I didn’t blame anyone, though.

  Hell, sometimes it scared me away.

  Jon tried to push, tried to enter my mouth, but I held my lips together tightly, resisting.

  He made a grunting sound edged with frustration and pushed again, but still, I resisted.

  I looked up and saw the hard lust in his eyes, then loosened my lips a little, letting him push a few centimeters further.

  Jon tipped his head back with relief, and I watched his thick Adam’s apple bob in his neck.

  “Yes….” he hissed.

  I kept my lips tight around the tip of his head, then gave his head a quick little lick.

  He gasped and shuddered, then braced himself against the wall.

  I loved this. Sure, I was a gay boy on my knees and he was one of the untouchable gods of this high school, but here?

  In this dark room, I was the one in control. I was the one with the power.

  And oh, that power was even more delicious than Jon Preston’s dick.

  I moved my tongue in tight, slow circles around his head.

  He moaned and leaned against the wall, almost collapsing.

  I let him in a few more centimeters, still swiveling my tongue around his firm, velvety head.

  “God…” he mumbled, looking down at me.

  I looked up at him with that expression I know all men love—that vulnerable, wide-eyed look. The look that says, “I’m an innocent thing, submitting to you. Humiliate me.”

  I didn’t mind. I knew I had the power here. I knew he loved the look of his cock in my mouth.

  And I was going to let him love it. I wanted him to burn it into his memory; think about this late at night when all forbidden thoughts tend to swim around like sharks.

  I moved my head a little further down his shaft, letting him penetrate my mouth.

  He let out a low groan through his nose and tipped his head back again.

  I tightened my grip on his shaft and plunged deeper, feeling his smooth shaft pass through my lips.

  Slowly, ever so slowly, I took his whole length.

  He groaned with pleasure.

  I gagged as it touched the back of my throat, and the sound ripped through the air. But with the acoustics in here, there was nowhere for the sound to run.

  Everything was muffled; quiet; sacred. It couldn’t get away no matter how hard it tried.

  I moved backward and let him slide out of my mouth.

  A thin thread of silvery saliva connected the tip to my lip, then dripped on the floor.

  I blinked, looked up at him, and saw those dark eyes on me, entranced.

  I loved that. I loved being at the center of his attention.

  I loved this control.

  I made a show of licking my lips, as if his cock was the tastiest thing in the world.

  Jon’s mouth came open a little, his sculpted lips forming an “o.”

  Then I pressed his head through my lips again, this time taking his cock hard and fast.

  “Oh—!” he groaned, leaning into his arm.

  I pulled out just as quickly, wetting his cock with my saliva.

  “Oh…oh yes…” he said, running his hand through my hair again.

  I knew he was trying to wind his fingers around it so he could control my speed and mouth-fuck me.

  I hated getting mouth-fucked.

  Good thing my hair was tangly and teased. It looked smooth on the surface as it swooped over my face, but underneath it was nothing but a rat’s nest.

  He couldn’t get a good grip, so he took his hand away.

  Good.

  I set the pace, sheathing his shaft in my mouth, then pulling out.

  He was forced to follow my lead.

  There was a fleeting thought somewhere in my mind that this might be the most powerful I ever felt, but I shelved it. There’d be time to go over how I felt about this little power trip later.

  I picked up the pace, sometimes pausing to swivel my tongue around and let it dance around his head.

  That drove him wild.

  I didn’t really know what I was doing, but I knew how good it felt when I jerked off in certain ways.

  And I was a horny teenage boy—everything in my life was a side hobby compared to jerking off. It was my passion. My purpose.

  One could say I was an expert.

  I picked up the pace and found a rhythm.

  Jon Preston was a slave above me, moaning and helpless to the pleasure of my mouth.

  I took his cock out of my mouth for a second with a pop, then put it back in.

  His eyes rolled back as he moaned.

  My face wanted to smile with victory, but I was too focused.

  I plunged over his length again and again, letting the saliva drip and dribble down my face. I could taste his salty pre-come in my mouth, as if it was a light seasoning on the feast of power.

  He moaned louder and louder, forgetting that we had to keep quiet.

  The ache in my lower belly crescendoed. If we kept going like this I was gonna come in my pants…

  From the sounds Jon was making, I could tell he was close, too.

  I’d been edging him for all this time—tormenting him.

  I wanted to lodge the memory of this blowjob into his brain forever. I wanted him to covet it.

  I wanted to suck his dick so good that this straight boy would fantasize about it for the rest of his lif
e.

  “Yeah… oh yeah—!” he uttered with a breathy moan.

  His defenses were down. I knew it was time to slam dunk.

  So I went hard. Fast. Vicious.

  I gagged over his cock.

  He put his hand on my shoulder and tightened his grip.

  “Oh! Oh fuck!” he cried.

  I felt his cock release in my mouth, pumping the hot, bitter liquid all over the insides of my cheeks.

  I looked up at his face, full of satisfaction and vulnerability…

  The look of high-and-mighty basketball star Jon Preston coming apart. Releasing everything that made him so intimidating for a moment…

  The knowledge that I did that was what sent me cresting over the wave of my own pleasure.

  He kept squirting into my mouth as I groaned under the weight of my own release; my lower belly pulsing with pleasure.

  I could feel my cock twitch as I emptied myself into my boxers, squirting wave after wave of jizz all over the inside of my pants.

  Ecstasy pulsed through me and rushed to my fingertips.

  My eyes fluttered closed as I pulled away from his cock.

  I still held his come in my mouth; a perfect little snowball.

  Jon’s eyes were on me, watching to see if I’d swallow.

  I wanted to be safe. I didn’t just want to swallow some guy’s cum.

  But I could taste its bitter saltiness in my mouth, and the longer it stayed in there, the more unpleasant it felt. I had to do something with it, but didn’t know what. What was the right thing to do?!

  I made a wretched gagging sound as I fought to keep it inside.

  He watched me with his eagle eyes.

  This, too, was a show of power.

  So with a surge of bravery, I looked up at him and stuck out my tongue.

  I’d seen a guy in a porno do this once. I knew the mass of white cum was plastered on my tongue like a generous dollop of Elmer’s Glue, slowly oozing down. I could only imagine how it looked.

  From the look on his face, it seemed like it fried his teenage brain.

  It was at that moment that I let myself believe that I might have a future with Jon Preston.

  And I saw the echo of that thought in his eyes, too.

  Then I felt the snowball pull away from my tongue and drip.

  I moved my thighs out of the way and let it splatter on the tile floor, right there behind the conductor’s podium.