A Year to Remember - Sex Stories

A Year to Remember

... springs out and I shout back that I'm getting up. I spit into my hand and rub my cock-head, making myself gasp in the process at my own roughness. I like my lube, so I spit into my fist again and smear it all over my already shining helmet, using the fleshy part of my palm to rub over the sensitive sides of my slippery, swollen head. The shower scene has, thankfully, been replaced. Packed away. Purposely forgotten. Replaced by an imaginary warm, wet mouth and tongue. Sliding over my taught head. The tip, dabbing at me, drinking my dripping pre-cum. Running round the edge, under that so sensitive ridge and down, down to the base. I pull hard, on my balls, stretching my dick to its full potential. Now I look like Alex. Another tummy tensing moment and then it happens. Just as I am remembering about Alex, I cum all over the front of my already stained boxers. I let go of the breath I was holding and relax. My sticky gunk drips down and through my fingers, soaking the flimsy fabric yet again. I flop out of bed and pad across the wasteland of detritus, that is my bedroom floor, and into the bathroom. Get into the shower and do what's necessary. Luckily, I'm not one of those lads that, as soon as they hit puberty, stink like the PE changing room. That overwhelming mixture of feet, mud, spunk and armpits, that assaults ...

... you as you walk in. My testosterone seems pretty sweet smelling. I don't spend long in the freezing bathroom, darting naked and ferret-like across the landing and back into my slightly warmer bedroom. I shrug on some clothes, well lots of them actually, as it does seem pretty cold out there today, and amble downstairs. As usual my mum is flapping about. Getting ready for work, getting my breakfast, getting my sisters breakfast, flapping. “Oh, you decided to grace us with your presence then, Adam.” Her sarcasm doesn't even register today. On a day like today, I could happily go back my room, crawl back under the duvet and tug my dick every couple of hours until it was dinner time. What self-respecting teenager wouldn't want to do that? Unfortunately it is not an option today. Real life gets in the way, anyway. School. The doorbell rings and brings me back to my senses. As usual, my younger sister bounds for the front door, eager to open it. What is it with little sisters and the front door? It's hardly going to be someone for her at 7.45 in the morning. She opens the door and there are two police officers standing on the doorstep. Now, this is something of a surprise to me. But not to my mum, who standing in the kitchen doorway behind me, nearly collapses at the sight of the two expressionless people on her doorstep.