Oscar - 7. Part 7

They say time stands still during important moments in our lives.

First kisses. First loves. Births. Deaths. And you’ll always remember what you were doing when you heard about so and so, or where you were when this or that happened.

But time doesn’t stand still. It can’t. The universe doesn’t work that way, at least not for us. What happens is, in these moments, our concept of beginning, middle and end goes completely out the metaphorical window because how long doesn’t matter.

All that matters is the present. The now. For however as long as your brain needs to latch itself back onto reality.

That Sunday morning was one. Because Adam was alive. Alive with energy. Alive with desire. And, most importantly, alive with freedom.

With all that fuelling muscles trained to scrum and blood prepared to pump faster and harder than men twice his age, he didn’t let my brain keep track of time.

It couldn’t.

All it could process was my senses, surging and sparking from the rapid pulse of his thrusts. Each spit-lubricated pump rippling shockwaves of pleasure, ablaze with beautiful pain, through my entirety.

I’d wanted to see how strong he could be and he displayed his power mercilessly.

My cock, rock hard and ready to blow, slapped against my stomach. My knees and arms and legs and back were braced and flexed and arched for maximum comfort and depth.

My neck and shoulders glistened with sweat, squeezed out from almost every pore. My head was hot and wetter. Dancing by itself to a rhythm drummed from behind.

Every part of me wanted more. Every electrified cell whirred and purred as I submitted, taking what I was given. My breath was fast and deep. His breath the same. My moans were loud. His were louder.

Fabric squeaked between my teeth and bed slats creaked. The headboard beat incessantly against the wall. The smell of two teenage boys in an adult’s room filled our nostrils and the glorious sight of us was reflected into our open, hungry eyes at all times.

I watched his muscles bulge and tense. His hands clamp, strong and commanding. His hips lunge back and forth. His neck, his shoulders, his back, his arse. His cock. Me.

We could have fucked for hours. Or minutes. I have no idea. It was a living dream.

Until he was about to cum. That I remember with picture-perfect clarity. When his breath was heaviest, his thrusts hit hardest and his grip held tightest. When, panting from exhaustion, he said some of my favourite words in all the English language.

‘I’m going to blow.’

I tried to reply but my words weren’t working. Instead my load stirred inside my balls as his heavy hanging sack slapped against me. Two large droplets of sweat dripped from his forehead onto my back.

‘I’m going to blow!’ he said again.

I didn’t even bother attempting to talk. Instead I grabbed myself and locked my eyes on the mirror.

Just in time.

Sliding all the way out he leaned back on his knees and took hold of himself. My insides shifted and I saw my reddened hole gape open, dark and empty and almost perfectly circular. His body shuddered. Every muscle from his neck to his calves contracted and bulged. His arse clenched. His arm worked as fast as it could.

Thick and white his load shot between my cheeks. I watched it pour into my open hole. Tantalisingly hot over my sensitive, beaten skin. Spurt by spurt it seeped inside me.

My turn.

Tightening my grip, I lifted my arse higher and stretched my knees further apart. The veins in my cock pressed against my palm. His load travelled onwards.

‘Push it in,’ I said.

Without a word, he did. Filled me a final time as a bead of sweat ran down my face and I blew.

My load was big. It streaked across the bed, leaving a gooey white line on the sheets from my belly button to my neck. More and more poured out, over my hand and dripping between my fingers, as he slowly and steadily churned his own. His legs jolting as my hole tightened around him.

Unable to take anymore he pulled out. Then he swung himself off the bed and stood up slowly.

Collapsing onto the mattress and into my wet patch, I looked up at him. For a minute neither of us spoke a word. We simply stared at each other. Panting and sweating.

I relished every detail. He loomed over me. Like a giant.

‘You enjoy that?’ I said.

‘You have no idea.’

Throwing himself onto the bed he landed next to me, bouncing me an inch. Then, grabbing me in his arms, he rolled on top, his sweaty six-pack gliding over mine.

Here it comes. Pillow talk.

‘You’re seriously sexy, Oscar.’

‘I know,’ I said.

He laughed.

‘Mind if I shower?’ I said.

‘Huh?’

I repeated my question.

‘Shit, sorry,’ he said, releasing me from his hold and shuffling back to his side of the bed.

Pointing to the landing he said, ‘Second on the left. Want me to show you where the towels are?’

‘I’m sure I’ll manage.’

Ten minutes later I found him where I’d left him. Spread-eagled and naked on the bed. His cock soft but still huge. He looked up and opened his arms expectantly. He wanted to cuddle.

I wanted to laugh in his face.

But I couldn’t. There was one more thing I needed. One last piece of vital information.

Smiling I took off the towel from around my waist and bypassed his intimacy by straddling him. Putting his hands behind his head he relaxed and beamed up at me. I tickled his chin.

I have to do this right.

‘I know this is random, but I was thinking about what you told me. About Mr. Price,’ I said.

‘Oh yeah?’

‘Yeah. How do you know?’ I said.

‘Know what?’

‘That it was your fault.’

His brow wrinkled.

‘I mean, I know it’s a stretch, but there could be another reason why he went mental.’

He shook his head and looked to the side. Said, ‘No. I know it was me.’

‘How?’

‘He told me.’

‘You’re still in touch?’ I said nonchalantly.

‘No, not like that. I bumped into him.’

‘Sure. You “bumped” into him,’ I said, squeezing his nipple between my thumb and index finger.

‘Fuck off,’ he said, play punching my arm.

I dodged his blow. Said, ‘I’m not wrong though, am I?’

‘Ok. I went to his house.’

I pulled a face. A face that said “poor you”. A face that hid my desired reaction.

‘He lives local then?’ I said.

‘Yeah. Not far from here. But he wasn’t home. So I went to the old creek field. He goes running there some evenings. I just wanted to see him, you know? But he wouldn’t even look me in the eye.’

And like that, I had everything I needed.

‘Do you think he’ll ever talk to me again?’ he said.

I’m not proud of what happened next. How I treated him. All he’d wanted was someone to talk to. Someone he could confide in. Someone who would listen. But that Oscar, the one sitting on the lap of Adam Stanmore, wasn’t ready to forgive.

‘Hey?’ Adam said.

I ignored him. Didn’t even look him in the eye. I jumped off his lap, turned and walked. Out of the room, down the hall and into his bedroom. I was already half dressed by the time he poked his head around the door, sheepish and confused.

‘What are you doing?’ he said.

I said nothing. Didn’t look up.

‘Cool, cool. Yeah, it is cold in here. I can turn the heating on if you like? My folks don’t get home for ages. We could smoke a spliff. Get sweaty again.’

I said nothing. Didn’t look up.

‘Are you leaving?’

Nothing.

I felt his confused eyes follow me as I scooped up my trainers and walked past him toward the stairs. He reached out and put a gentle hand on my shoulder.

I stopped still, turned my head slowly and looked at his hand.

‘You really want me to stay?’ I said.

‘Of course,’ he said. ‘Why would you think I’d want you to leave?’

Letting go of my shoulder he bent down and pulled on some underwear.

‘We could hang out,’ he said.

I sneered at him.

‘Like mates?’ I said.

His smile wavered. Said, ‘Yeah, like mates.’

I looked him up and down. One last time. He really was sexy. Totally my type. Strong, built, fit, tall, handsome.

But fuck me he’s stupid.

‘No thanks,’ I said.

He said nothing. Stared at me with a face that said it all. No one had ever rejected him before. Adam Stanmore. Mr. Perfect.

‘Well, this is riveting,’ I said, continuing past him and down the stairs.

‘Wait,’ he said.

Thud, thud, thud went his heavy footsteps after me.

‘Wait!’

At the bottom of the staircase I stopped and turned. A few stairs above, he towered over me. I felt like David versus Goliath. The part where he’s about to pick up the rock.

‘What?’ I said.

‘I don’t get it, man. What did I say?’

‘Come on, Adam, really?’

Again, he said nothing. If I could have heard the cogs turning in his head before, now they were practically screeching.

‘Yeah, really. Tell me,’ he said.

I should have left. Left it there. But the twisted part of me had tasted blood and wanted more. I attacked.

‘Ok. You’re a hypocrite. And an idiot.’

He flinched, like my words had slapped him across the face. His brow furrowed. Sadness and anger crept into his eyes. His lips drooped into a frown.

Taking the final stairs slowly he sat on the third from bottom with his shoulders slumped. I’d never seen such a big guy look so small before.

‘I don’t understand,’ he said.

‘There’s a surprise.’

‘Fuck you.’

‘You just did.’

‘Why are you being like this?’

‘Mate, I’m being honest.’

‘Honest? About what? How am I a hypocrite?’

I was getting impatient. I raised my eyebrows.

‘What?!’ he yelled.

I shook my head and leaned against the wall.

‘You really think I’ve forgotten?’

‘Forgotten what?’

‘That morning at school when everyone found out?’

It took him a second. Then he got it. Guilt joined the mix of emotions splattered across his face.

‘Yeah. You remember now, don’t you?’ I said. ‘You remember standing there, laughing and joking as they circled me. You remember what they did. How they left me on the ground for the teachers to scrape up. Fucked up and bleeding.’

‘I didn’t touch you.’

My fists clenched and fury sizzled in my stomach. The urge to punch him in the face and keep on punching caught light and flared in my heart and hands. I wanted him to know how it had felt. I wanted him to feel the pain.

Instead I exhaled. Deeply. Choking the flames to a gentle simmer.

‘You’re right,’ I said. ‘You didn’t. You didn’t do anything. Like everyone else you just stood there and let it happen. But now, guess what? Now I know you were just, if not more of a faggot than me. And you did nothing. You’re worse than the rest of them.’

For five seconds, there was silence. A heavy, suffocating silence. Then he said, ‘You felt this way all along?’

‘Yes.’

‘What was last night? This morning? Everything you said was bullshit?’

‘I don’t even remember what I said. I’m not your friend, Adam.’

‘You were using me?’

I cocked my head to the side and smiled.

‘Finally. Proof that you’re not completely retarded. Yes, I was using you. And how useful you’ve been.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘It means I’ve got to go. Need to save my energy for my run around the old creek field later.’

Clenching his fists, he stood up and came at me. Squaring my shoulders, I puffed out my chest and met him halfway. He was humongous. Hard and fuming his breath blasted my forehead from flared nostrils. But I stood my ground.

‘Go on then. Do your worst,’ I said.

‘Get out.’

‘Gladly,’ I said walking to the door.

Holding the cool metal of the handle I turned and took a final look. One last look at the King of School. Defeated.

‘Oh,’ I said pulling the door open.

Sunlight poured all around me and into the hallway. He lifted his hand to shield his eyes from the rays beaming around my body.

‘If you try anything at school,’ I said. ‘I will ruin you.’