The Nightmare is Back - Logan & Bryce (A New Series) - Sex Stories

The Nightmare is Back - Logan & Bryce (A New Series)

... meant. He would just feel the urge to go tell mom or dad that I just said the “A-word.” I make my way over to my dresser drawers and pull out a pair of skinny black jeans and slide them on over my lime green American Eagle boxer-briefs. I walk over to the closet and retrieve my purple studded belt and slide it through the belt loops. The metal hangers clink and clang together as I browse through my selection of shirts. I finally choose a snug-fitting black Nirvana t-shirt and slide it over my head. I lean down and grab my purple Supra Skytops and walk over to the swivel chair in front of my computer desk, sit down and shove my feet into the shoes. I can already hear my mother pacing up and down the hallway, getting Jace and herself ready for the day. I’m seventeen, she doesn’t need to worry about getting me out the door anymore. Not like she used to, anyway - walking into my room, sitting on the edge of my bed, brushing my hair away from my face while saying, “Time to wake up, hun.“ Nowadays, she passes by my door, knocking on it loudly and says, “Time to wake up, Logan!” “Yeah, yeah…” is all I holler back. I get up from the chair and make my way to the bathroom I share with Jace. It’s a long bathroom that separates our bedrooms. For the longest time, I used to have to barricade my door to the bathroom because Jace would open his door, leading to the bathroom, sneak across the bathroom and into my room. On more than one occasion, he caught me jerking off to gay porn. In one ...

... quick movement, I’d have to cover myself up and turn the computer monitor off. I walk into the bathroom and flip on the light to do my usual morning routines, just like everybody else. Last thing I do is my hair. Oh, yeah… I forgot another typical insult I hear daily. “Look, everybody! It’s Justin Gay-ber!” Mainly because I do my hair the exact same way Mr. Bieber does his, post famous haircut. It wasn’t intentional. I didn’t have some sort of gay crush on that tool. In fact, I did my hair this way long before that douche rocket even did his hair this way. But, no matter how I did my hair, it wouldn’t stop the constant smart-ass remarks. It’s a vicious cycle. I walk over to my nightstand and take my iPhone off the charger. I have a text message from Bryce. I swipe the text notification to the right, to unlock the phone and bring up his text message into full screen. The text reads: “Hey, cutie. Woke up with a serious case of morning wood. Wish you were here to take care of it. Thank God it’s Friday, right? Can’t wait to hang out tonight, if you catch my drift! ;) See you at school.” I smile and reply… “Morning, you handsome beast! I would SO take care of that situation for you, if I were there with you right now…” I stop typing. Even thinking about sexual encounters with Bryce brings on a whole slew of horrible flashbacks to that incident. I shake my head - trying to dislodge the bad memories. No, I think to myself. No, get the fuck out of my head. I’m not going back to that ...