Shaun - excerpt from the book
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An excerpt from an adventure Yaoi novel I wrote. Two boys meet in school and become close before finding out that they are now entwined in an international conspiracy.
I was sitting at my desk in Geography or Science, whatever the lesson plan was for that period, with Shaun in front of me as normal. Ms. Patterson was going on about Tectonic Forces and Sheering Forces, and I was staring at the back of Shaun’s head, right at the ridge where the hair was shaved and pointed trailing down the back of his neck. Right at the point was a tiny drop of sweat. The heat was on, and the room felt like an oven. Mr. Price was testing the boiler or some shit but it was making life really unpleasant for everyone. Anyway, I saw this little drop and took my good old number 2 yellow Stanford pencil, $1.99 for a box of 12! And using the eraser which I had already nimbly chewed into a lump, reached out ever so gently, to touch that drop. It hung at the base of his hair where the hairs were finest, like down, on smooth skin… daring me to touch it. Inching the eraser closer, millimeter by millimeter, keeping my eye on the teacher so she did not out me in front of the class in my attempt at flicking this treasure, I aimed at the tiny drop. I could see the pulse in the side of his neck. He wore a white Oxford today, open at the collar with a black ribbon collar around his neck . The way the pulse made the ribbon move up and down was incredibly seductive. I could see his hands resting on the book in front of him. There was a soft shimmer of down on the backs of his wrists, barely visible, and the backs of his hands were smooth. The same down was just visible on his cheeks and on the edges of his ears. The eraser moved steadily forward hovering right above the drop when he sat back, stretching his spine. The eraser touched his neck, smashing the droplet. But Shaun did not do anything… well that is not true. He DID do something. He leaned back ever so slightly. I waited and then using the eraser, feathered the hair right along the spine. He did not move but the pulse at his neck started to beat heavier. Taking a chance, I moved the eraser down into the soft hair at the base of his neck, just inside his collar and ran it very, very lightly over them. This time small Goosebumps rose along his skin lifting the hairs up. The beat of his throat increased and he leaned back a little more. Hmmmm. This was becoming interesting. I continued to run the eraser along the erect hairs back up to the thicker hair at the base of his scalp, then following the line of his neck, ran it down the side of the neck to the point where the pulse beat. Then pulled it away waiting to see what he would do. After a few minutes, he cleared his throat, and adjusted his collar so it was open more on that side, giving me access to the soft skin down at the base of the neck. Ok, that was pretty clear, so I ran the eraser from the ear lobe slowly down the neck and slipped it into the collar where it just barely reached the base at the clavicle, watching the beat of his pulse quicken. I was turning him on. So I ran it back up to the ear and followed the outer rim very softly around to the front and back, being sure to just barely touch. This time there was no pause, he turned his head slightly to the left giving me access to more of the ear and neck. Emboldened, I repeated the exercise but this time outlining the shape of the ear and its inner curl. The Goosebumps became larger and he shuddered involuntarily. We played this game for the rest of the period. When the bell rang, we all put our books away into our book bags, and looking up I looked at his face. He was smiling at me sideways, with that small amused smile. Since the next period was the last, and that meant soccer, I decided I had better up and say something or I would lose any chance to make an impression. I have known for some time that even the most popular guys, especially the really good looking ones, are at heart insecure. If you do not show interest in them, they will pass you by even if they want to know you. It is one more sick joke nature plays on all of us.
Making my way to the Boys room at the base of the inner stairs, separated from the Girls room by a water fountain, I pushed open the swinging door to find most of the guys already dressing. Danny and Jon were laughing at the other end of the room that served as both locker room and cloak room in winter. We put our gym clothes on shelves above the coat racks for later. I moved through the press to my rolled up brown paper bag, and glancing over saw that Bruce was showing off again. What a loser. Sure he was hung but so what? Any minute Jon would be on his knees. Ignoring this, I pulled out my gym clothes and moved to the opposite end, near the door. Pulling my pullover up and over my head, I stuffed it in the bag, and dropped my jeans. When I stepped out of them and stood up I found myself face to face with Shaun. He looked at me coolly with that knowing smile, paused and then looked down. I know I should but I do not wear briefs. I prefer to hang free. I could wear boxers but they bunch up. Naked is so much nicer. Shaun apparently thought so too, because his smile deepened, and then I realized why. I was getting hard. Nonchalantly as possible, I turned around to pull on my cup and supporter. I felt something very close, and his breath touched my right ear, “You don’t have to turn away on my account, hon.” That did it. Rock hard and now trying to fit the cup over it, I was stuck. He moved just past my right as the others jostled to get out onto the field. In moments, while I struggled, the room emptied leaving Shaun leaning on the wall in his spotless white T with the Friends logo, tucked neatly into his shorts. I was beginning to think everything was tight on him. He had an incredible box. He was now smiling outright with his arms crossed in front of his chest. I was getting panicky again, but this time it was from too much attention. Hard and not showing any sign of relenting, my cock refused to go into the cup. Now I cannot claim to be huge. I am not! Above average maybe… but when a large thing meets a small container, nothing is going to make it go in and stay. I glanced at Shaun whose smile had a sweet quality to it now. He sighed gently and I thought he was going to leave. Maybe then I could right this damn thing and save what little face I had left. But no, he was not leaving. He reached down and gently took it into his right hand, and leaned forward to put his mouth next to my ear. He said very quietly “Thank you.” And then kissed my lips softly. It was so sudden, I popped… I came all over his hand taking the wind out of my chest and making my legs weak. He purred softly, rolled his hand around my cock wiping off the cum, and then slipping past me, said innocently, “Coming? I think we may be late.” , then opened the door while licking his fingers clean and walked out leaving me standing naked, with a softening, wet cock, totally red faced and in shock.
When I finally made it outside, everyone was lined up doing stretches. I ran up, chaffing slightly as I HAD to wash or it would smell. “Did you forget something, Mr. Mastersson?” Mr. Levet said. “ N-n-no Sir. I had to use the toilet.” Levet, nodded and gestured me over to join the group. No one else seemed to care. But when I too my place next to Shaun, he looked up at me with those eyes and very gently, very deliberately, licked his full lips. My chest tightened as my stomach threatened to cramp. I could not believe what had just happened… had it? Had this incredible angel just given me the shortest handjob in history and left while sucking my spooge off his fingers? Once again my head was reeling. I had to say something now, or lose the opening, so I said what first popped into my mind, “Next time, I will show you how it is done!” oh brother! That was smooth, Jase. Shaun actually snorted, something I would never thought to hear from him. “You are on, lover.” He said under his breath. And that was that. The door opened, and I fell through into a dimension of pure, unadulterated pleasure and immeasurable heartache.
Copyright ©2007 Randall A. McGrew
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