Gilbert's Dialable Dick

by Matt2670

Copyright© 2019 by Matt2670

Erotica Sex Story: Gilbert suddenly has an extraordinarily long, slender cock. Fully erect, it measures an impossible 14" long. Gilbert does with it what any extraordinarily horny, gender-confused boy would in the circumstances. This weekend alone at home, he'll do even more.

Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including mt/mt   Consensual   Reluctant   Gay   BiSexual   Heterosexual   Humor   Anal Sex   Cream Pie   Enema   First   Masturbation   Oral Sex   Transformation   .

I’m Matt. I wrote this story. It’s fictional, but based on the “Home Alone For The Weekend” series by my favorite author. Angie apparently retired to devote full time to her marriage. Gilbert’s Dialable Dick is a tribute to her HAftW series. It may be only the first. I don’t know yet.

So, here’s what happened: The day Gilbert Grove turned 14, he arrived home from school at 3:17 pm and immediately undressed. He got away with this as an only child; mom and dad both worked. The date was September 12, 2018, a Wednesday. He carried his clothes upstairs in his left hand, backpack slung over his shoulder. He sported a world-class erection even before heading up.

“I hate this fucking thing,” he grumbled. Tossing his clothes on the bed and shrugging the backpack off his shoulder, he closed his bedroom door and stared at his reflection in the mirror on the back. World-class for Gilbert garnered no bragging rights. The best he’d ever measured was 3-1/4” long. “I hate this fucking thing,” he repeated. It upset him more to stand sideways and observe it in profile.

“Today’s my birthday,” he complained, shifting back and forth to present the best angle. He’d never considered taking a selfie, not even for personal use. Too damned self-destructive. “The least someone could do is make it a little bigger. Not much. I’d settle for just about anything, you know.” He eyed his pitiful hard-on and minuscule balls. “Adjustable, would be nice.”

Depressed, he put on a t-shirt, went downstairs to make a sandwich and grab a Coke from the fridge. The long t-shirt covered his pathetic works and half his rear end. Back in his bedroom, he sat at the desk by the window and completed his homework. He pushed thoughts of his minuscule cock and balls to the back of his mind. He refused to give his shortcomings more than subconscious deliberation. At 10:45 pm, he went to bed. After tossing and turning the better part of an hour, he finally drifted off to sleep and dreamed about huge cocks.

Gilbert wasn’t queer, only envious. He had less interest in guys that he did in football or soccer. He considered himself All American Heterosexual. He liked girls, even had some as friends. He’d never dated or kissed a girl, though. He fondled breasts and tight bottoms in his dreams. He refused to daydream; another self-destructive activity he didn’t partake in.

Gilbert stood 62-1/2” tall and weighed 96 lbs. He had dark brown hair worn short, brown eyes, and a blessedly friendly complexion. His features leant him a vaguely feminine caste; he looked vaguely like Millie Bobbie Brown. He wore glasses, but they looked cute on him. So his female friends claimed, anyway. Gilbert wondered if he’d graduate high school a virgin.

He awoke at 3:08 am with a jolt. His heart raced, really banged against his rib cage, and he breathed raggedly through his mouth. He’d just had a frightening dream in which he’d sucked his own cock and cum in his mouth.

“Fuck!” he choked, grossed out. He’d frustratingly splooged in his underwear and he’d need to change. “Fuck!” he repeated, throwing back the covers.

In the dream, he’d been naked in his bedroom after school. The bedroom was that of a girl, decorated in pink and white, with posters of boys on the walls. The bedroom had three windows rather than one, with pink and white curtains rather than vertical blinds. He’d complained uselessly to his mom and dad about the décor. The argument went nowhere.

He barely remember the dream upon awakening. He remembered sucking his own cock, though. That burned his brain like a branding iron. “Fuck,” he muttered going to his dresser.

He’d sat on the edge of his mattress or in his swivel chair, he wasn’t sure which. The cock in his dream was immensely long, a foot or more in length, though surprisingly slender and seductive. He’d easily reached the head with his lips and effortlessly fellated half the length. Remembering how it felt to stroke the lower half while he fellated the upper section and sucked his supple head shocked him with a testosterone jolt. “Wow,” he muttered. “I hate you and want to have your fucking babies.”

He’d never had a dream like that before. He’d never enjoyed the idea of sucking himself, either, and coming in his mouth. He knew it was possible—with a long enough cock. He’d seen boys do it in videos. His cock didn’t come close to even the minimum length. Laughable.

Gilbert closed his eyes and breathed deeply through his mouth. God, what he’d give to have that dream come true. It meant sucking cock, but the cock was his and the cum erupting into his mouth was his also. Sucking didn’t make you queer if the cock was yours. He told himself that, anyway. Like it mattered. He’d have to quadruple in length to make that dream come true.

He carried clean underwear to the bathroom, cleaned enough to go pee, and then removed his pajama bottoms, cleaned thoroughly and changed. His cock bore an erection, but no more than the typical 3-1/4”. His nuts certainly weren’t any larger. He remembered flooding his mouth in the dream, an impossibly huge ejaculation from his enormous balls. He’d woke up gagging and nauseated.

“You sick motherfucker,” he muttered. Turning off the light, he returned to his bedroom and stuffed the soiled underwear into his hamper.

He lay in bed Thursday night, fondling his testicles through the thin pajama bottoms and underwear. He’d considered going without them tonight, but decided spurting a load into his underwear was preferable to doing it uncontained into loose pajama bottoms. Didn’t need that horror tonight, he thought. If he dreamed.

“Please,” he moaned. “Let me do it again.” Memory of the sucking, masturbation and ejaculation into his mouth had tortured him all day. Sperm tasted like battery acid, he knew that from experimentation, and he couldn’t believe any boy or girl swallowed it willingly. He didn’t remember how it tasted in his dream. He wondered if last night was really the first time he’d dreamed about sucking himself. The idea of sucking someone else in a dream horrified him. Considering it, made him shudder.

“Make me bigger,” he whispered facetiously. “Let me do it in real life.” The thought of actually doing it embarrassed him. “Fat chance,” he mouthed, pinking girlishly. “I’ll settle for six beautiful inches.” Laughing, he turned on his right side and went to sleep.

He awoke at 3:10 am. His erection throbbed achingly. Calm down, he scolded, Tell me I caught you in time.

He daren’t let his thoughts stray to the dream he’d just had. Breathing deeply through his mouth, he stared at the ceiling and thought about tomorrow’s trig exam. After a moment, he eased away from critical overload. “Phew,” he blew out, “that was close.”

He’d dreamt it again. The bedroom was different, not his, but not decorated in pink and white, either. Possibly a motel room, he thought, or that of an adult he didn’t know. The chair he sat in was a fancy office swivel chair, black, with padded black arms. He was naked again, and sucking his own cock. He’d awoken this time without coming.

“Fuck,” he breathed gratefully. “I didn’t actually expect to dream it again. Thank you, so much.” He laughed softly. “Wow! That really was something.”

He recalled more this time. Bent low, he’d stroked with his right hand while gently fondling his huge testicles with his left. They felt big as horse noogies, the size and shape of lemons. They were pliable and delicate despite that. No surprise they had flooded his mouth with sperm the night before. The memory made him laugh squeamishly. He couldn’t imagine a mouthful of cum.

He fingered his erection through the pajama bottoms. Startled, he gasped and jerked upright. His cock felt twice normal size, and so did his balls. “What the fuck?” he croaked.

It was true. Examining his cock in the diffuse bedroom light, it appeared to be 6 or more inches long, and twice as thick as normal. Not anywhere the length of his dream cock, but still marvelously huge. “This is impossible!” he gasped.

He jumped up and ran for his bedroom door and punched the thumb lock. Then he rushed to the vertical blinds and twisted them closed over the window. Then he switched on his bedside lamp and yanked out his pajama bottoms and underwear. His erection had died, leaving his penis half-flaccid. He couldn’t believe his eyes, regardless.

“Jesus, Mother of Mary,” he whispered. “What happened to you?” Pushing down his pajama bottoms, he freed his cock and let it hang limp. His former erections had never reached the size of his now half-flaccid penis. “What happened to you?” he repeated. Taking the limber shaft between his fingertips, he shook it up and down. It really was real.

He’d never held a cock big enough to fit his hand. This one did, with shaft to spare. His testicles were huge, the size of walnuts, or bigger. Fingering them gently made him shiver.

“How is this possible?” he wondered. Stroking carefully and with perverse pleasure watching his erection in the full length mirror, Gilbert wondered how long ago he measured with a tape rule. He gazed up at the ceiling. “Please don’t take this away from me? Please?” And within minutes, he made a first attempt to suck his new cock.

Wednesday, January 16, 2019 Gilbert arrived home from school at 3:14 pm. Inside the front door, he stripped naked and wiggled his amazing limp cock. It wasn’t but 2-1/2” long in a flaccid state, but routinely resized to 14” long. Addicted, he sucked it every single day, though with judicious restraint. He never ejaculated in the mornings except occasionally on a weekend, and greedily rationed his afternoon ejaculations. Rather than simply suck and masturbate his erection, he made love to it.

In theory, no human testicles could generate the enormous output he selfishly pumped into his mouth at night. The typical male produced a teaspoon of sperm during ejaculation. Gilbert easily filled a shot glass to overflowing. He estimated that he’d swallowed more than a gallon of sperm since his 14th birthday in September.

“I love you. Can I suck you this afternoon, please?” He found it advisable to treat his magic penis with reverence. What other 14-year-old had a 14” erection? (He often questioned the 14” vs 14 years of age coincidence. Would it grow an inch when he turned 15?)

“I really do love you, you know that, don’t you?” His erect penis began to elongate and thicken, surpassing 6”, and then 8”, and finally coming to fruition 2” longer than a foot. Only the slender diameter of the immensely long shaft kept it from appearing gargantuan. It was the same length of the horror-inducing Dick Rambone dildo.

The head was perfectly sized. Dropping to the foyer tiles, he crossed his legs yoga style and placed his hands palm-upright on his knees. His slowly ticking penis beckoned. He lowered his mouth and captured the head between his lips and slowly began to suck. He seldom masturbated here in the foyer. In fact, he wasn’t sure exactly how this ritual came about, fellating his erection downstairs, cross-legged on the cold ceramic tiles. Regardless, he performed the ritual every day after school before retiring to his bedroom on the second floor. His erection certainly enjoyed it.

“Mmmm,” he moaned. “I love you like the dawn.” Clearing his mind, he ran his lips down the long shaft and let the head enter his throat. He’d learned by the end of September to successfully deep-throat his erection. He’d never pushed to see how deep he could coax it down; limber as he was from all these months sucking, he suspected all the way. He imagined his nose tickled by pubic hair, lips ringed about the base of his shaft, 14” of penis in his mouth and down his throat. It gave him an intensely pleasurable buzz.

At 3:45 pm, he reluctantly abandoned his head and stretched gratefully, twisting his neck and back muscles. Despite the relative ease he experienced sucking his penis, it still required a bit of contortion. His back and neck muscles suffered. He supposed he appeared rather ludicrous bent over his work. He pushed off the floor, gathered his clothes and backpack and went upstairs.

A huge break came for Gilbert Thursday night. While helping mom in the kitchen after dinner, Robin inquired: “What do you think about your mom and dad having a parent’s getaway weekend?”

Gilbert looked at her dumbly. “What?”

Mom grinned. “You’d be here alone for the weekend. Would you like that, Gilbert?”

Gilbert thought his head might explode. “Alone? Me? For the weekend?”

Mom’s grin canted wryly. “You are 14 years old, now. Are you trustworthy, Gilbert Grape?”

Gilbert twisted around to see who she was talking to. It couldn’t be him. No one stood behind him, however.

“We’d leave mid-day tomorrow, and return Sunday afternoon. I’d leave you enough to carry you over the weekend. You could order pizza or Chinese, whatever you wanted.” Gilbert loved Chinese. “I’d even consider letting you drink a beer or two tomorrow and Saturday night. A couple,” she stressed. “The rules are, no company, and no smoking dope on the premises.” She eyed him, daring a lie concerning illicit smoking with his friends on weekend nights.

“So what do you think?”

In bed that night, buried beneath the covers, Gilbert sucked his cock and masturbated slowly while he sucked, enjoying the head down his throat, and the feel of his lips surrounding the shaft. On impulse, he slid his lips the entire way down to the base, planting his nose in his pubic hair. He lovingly sucked the entire 14”.

Friday, January 18, 2019, 3:17 pm In the foyer after school Friday, Gilbert shouted: “Mom? Dad? Are you home?” No one answered, and he texted his mom that he’d just arrived home.

“We’re halfway there,” she wrote back. “I’ll text you when we check-in.”

Gilbert sat down in the foyer with his clothes on, freed his penis, and sucked it happily for half an hour. He’d never done it with his clothes on before. He found it enjoyable and sexy. His erection enjoyed it too. It attempted to cum in his mouth on several occasions.

At 9:15 pm, Gilbert went about the condo and closed the vertical blinds over the windows and balcony doors. The temperature outside had dropped to the mid-teens. It would be a cold night on the balcony when he went outside later to light up. He relished the idea of getting stoned and sucking his cock at the balcony tablet. He’d do it with his back to the parking lot, of course, so no one could see. No one could possibly guess what he was doing.

Stripping naked right at the balcony door, he sat atop his clothes and put the head in his mouth and began to suck. Rather than masturbate, he fondled each of his testicles with his fingertips, adoring whomever had imbued him with this amazing ability to resize at will. He never imagined how precious and intimate a penis could feel in his mouth. He promised to fully deep-throat it again tonight, and not hidden beneath his covers, either.

At 11:20, mom texted goodnight. “How many beers did you drink?” she asked. Gilbert truthfully told her two. She wasn’t aware that he’d scored a 12-pack of Heineken bottles from his friend Robert. Robert thought he meant to sell the 12-pack to a 6th-grader in the building for $30 and a blow-job. Gilbert truthfully expected to score the blow-job, tonight, if not the cash. He expected to score multiple blow-jobs tonight.

At 11:30 pm, Gilbert went naked to his bedroom and removed his stash from the closet and went to the desk. He’d long ago put the 12-pack of Heineken on ice, and had brought a fresh one into the bedroom. Carefully rolling a pair of joints, he downed the beer in one go, and went to the kitchen for another. He’d diligently requested his penis to assume normal proportions while he prepared the joints. Much as he loved his 14” erection, it proved a hindrance and worrisome appendage when dangling between his thighs. He’d learned to reel it in when not actively loving it.

He cracked another beer. In less than a minute he’d emptied the bottle and opened another. He had a bit of catching up to do. He’d never sucked his cock either drunk or when high; he wondered how it would feel with the head in his mouth. He hoped for marvelous. He hoped not to throw up when swallowing a mouthful of sperm later. Much as he loved the stuff, he always got nauseous when he drank.

At 11:45, Gilbert dressed in pajamas and slipped on his moccasins. He chose a coat over a sweatshirt, determining that a coat might afford more privacy and protection when sucking his cock on the balcony. He didn’t immediately consider that a baggy sweatshirt would conceal the entire length of his tall erection, the head protruding from the neck to fit neatly into his mouth. He’d discover that convenience later, however, and put it to good use.

At 11:55, Gilbert slipped out the balcony door and lit up. This was prime kush, the best he’d ever smoked, medical marijuana purchased illicitly from a store in town, and sold to middle and high school students. He’d scored 4 grams from Robert, absolutely free. The weed came from his older brother Martin. Gilbert didn’t care where it came from, so long as it made him extraordinarily high. This stuff did.

“Holy Mother of God!” he croaked. He coughed explosively, unable to hold the smoke in his lungs. He coughed for nearly a minute straight, until he thought his lungs would burst.

Holy fucking shit, this stuff was amazing! Extraordinary! Breathtaking, he thought, chuckling harshly. He took a more judicious toke off the joint.

Gilbert had ejaculated into his mouth 95 times since the morning of Friday, September 13. He maintained a digital diary to keep track. Based on his typical output of 1-1/2 ounces per ejaculation, he’d swallowed 142 ounces of sperm. That equaled 1.113 US gallons. He imagined he owned the world record and that of Guinness too, if they tracked records like that. He’d not bothered to look. Someday, he would. Right now he took another inhalation and filled his lungs with smoke.

Ken. Ken was a particular thorn in his side. Ken was his best friend. Since September 13th, he’d fantasized continuously about sucking Ken’s beautiful cock. Ken was well endowed for a 14-year-old white male, attaining a full 7” long when erect. His erection stood perfectly straight, somewhat thicker than Gilbert’s at 1” diameter, and tipped with a gorgeously shaped head. Ken had let Gilbert suck the beautiful thing 6 times now. He wouldn’t ejaculate into Gilbert’s mouth, claiming the idea disgusted him thoroughly. Ken was torn between loving their extraordinary afternoon’s together in his bedroom, and wanting to pound Gilbert to pulp. Their last time together, 10 days ago, Tue, Jan 8, Ken had given over to using Gilbert’s mouth as a pussy, and allowed Gilbert to masturbate while having his mouth fucked.

“Don’t you fucking cum on my floor,” Kenneth warned fiercely. “Don’t you come at all, asshole!”

Gilbert shook his head emphatically. He’d kept his erection dialed back to 4-1/2” long, just enough to get a hand around and have some fun. Ken was unaware of his actual natural length, and had no idea that Gilbert could adjust his length at will. Ken had seen Gilbert’s erection only one time prior to this; when he’d first allowed Gilbert to masturbate as he sucked. That was 2 weeks ago, back on Christmas Day. The blowjob was Ken’s Christmas present. Ken’s gift in return, was letting Gilbert take off his clothes and suck him naked between Ken’s thighs.

“You fucking queer,” Ken taunted. Gilbert removed his head and gazed up at Ken, panting lightly.

“You can stop any time.”

“Fucking queer-boy cock-sucking pansy-ass fudge-packer.”

Gilbert laughed. “I’ve never had anal sex. You won’t give it to me, Ken!”

“And I never will,” Ken promised, reinserting his cock in Gilbert’s mouth to fuck it some more. “Fucking knob-gobbling baby-doll nightie training-bra bitch.”

Gilbert fantasized about wearing baby-doll nighties and girl’s underwear, especially a training bra. God knew he was small enough to pass as a prepubescent girl. Since discovering his dialable erection ability, he’d dropped 5 pounds and impossibly reduced an inch in height. Mom thought the nurse had simply misread the scale his last time in the pediatrician’s office. He now stood 5’0-1/2” tall, and his weight stood at 91 pounds. His mother didn’t know that yet.

“You look good on your knees,” Ken goaded. “You belong on your knees sucking my cock, pansy-boy.”

“You should let me do it more often, then,” Gilbert agreed.

“Fuck you in the ass, queer-boy.”

“You can do that right now. Hey!” he complained, laughing, as Ken batted him on the head. “Don’t mistreat the pleasure giver. You don’t have other friends willing to open their mouth and let you fuck it.”

Ken put his head back in Gilbert’s mouth. “I should rent myself out. This could be a big moneymaker, Grove. What?” he questioned at Gilbert’s ironic glance upward. “Oh ... I should rent you out instead?”

At 12:01 am, Gilbert took a deep inhalation of smoke and held it in against the impulse to cough.

Below, a car glided past on the way to the underground parking garage. The building opposite was an identical hi-rise, 26-stories tall. The address there was 59000 Telford Court. His building was 59100. The number on the apartment door read 14016, indicating he lived on the 14th floor, in Apartment 16. The building was a condominium. Mom and Dad owned the expensive apartment, and it was big.

Exhaling, Gilbert considered inviting Ken over. Ken lived a mile away on Travers Lane in a big brick colonial. His parents were wealthier than Gilbert’s, and owned rental properties, and time-shares all over the place. In fact, it was their Airbnb that Mom and Dad had gone to spend the weekend.

“Don’t get me wrong,” he muttered after exhaling. “I love sucking you. I love sucking you and swallowing your sperm more than anything in the world. But I like sucking Ken’s cock, too. It’s not part of me, so I loose all the pleasure of being sucked...” He spat a piece of weed off his tongue. “But I like making Ken happy, and getting to put his cock in my mouth and suck it makes me feel queer. I like being queer, you know...” He rubbed his bothersome stiffening erection through the pajama bottoms. “I just wish he’d cum in my mouth and let me swallow him, is all. I really want that.” He inhaled another hit.

Did he want anal sex? He joked about it with Ken, and he’d immediately say yes if Ken ever asked. He thought sometime soon, Ken might ask. He’d never imagined, even a month ago, that Ken would let him take off his clothes and masturbate as he sucked, or put him on his knees for an energetic mouth fucking. Yet both those occurrences happened since Christmas Day. He’d only convinced Ken to put a cock in his mouth in mid-November. He’d sucked him 5 times since. Amazing. He was certain that Ken meant to explode in his mouth anytime soon now, too. Maybe even the next time they partnered up in his bedroom. He’d hinted as much 10 days ago. Unfortunately, he hadn’t been alone with Ken since.

“You don’t mind that I suck Ken, right?” The first time he’d broached the subject was November 8th, after school. He’d been scared out of his mind about rejection, and afraid that Ken might even punch the crap out of him. Ken was no sissy-boy like Gilbert Grape.

“Uh, Ken... ?”

Ken didn’t immediately answer. They sat on the family room couch, battling on the game-console. Gilbert played even worse than normal. He thought he might feint. He couldn’t get his breath. His heart kept skipping beats.


Gilbert moaned unheard. “Um ... I wanna ask you something. Something ... something you might not like.”

Ken glanced over at the skittish, embarrassed tone of Gilbert’s voice. His brow furrowed seeing Gilbert’s uptight expression. “What?” he asked carefully.

Suffering extreme anxiety, Gilbert blanched first, and then turned bright red. “Um...”

Ken put the game on hold. “What the fuck’s going on? You okay, dude? Jesus, you look like someone about to ask...” Blinking, he leaned away defensively, eyes going wide. “What are you going to ask, Gilbert?”

Gilbert turned brighter red.

“Holy fuck,” Ken croaked. “Are you... ?”

Gilbert nodded shakily. He thought he might puke and/or burst out in tears. Ken turned extremely red.

“You’re not queer, are you? I never took you for queer, Gilbert.” He flinched as Gilbert suffered a massive, head to toe shudder. “I mean I have. But I never expected you to bring it up to me. Are you hitting on me?”

Gilbert didn’t know if he was. He’d never wanted to suck Ken’s cock before September 14th. Now he craved it madly.

“Just nod if you are, dammit.”

Gilbert half-nodded and half-shook his head.

“You don’t know if you are.”

Gilbert shrugged anxiously.

“You’ve never done anything before, though.”

Gilbert shook his head vehemently. “No-no! Never! Never. No.”

Ken looked relieved. “Good. But you are coming on to me right now?”

Gilbert half-nodded and half-shook his head again.

“Because I’m your best friend?” Ken questioned.

Gilbert emphatically nodded. Ken laughed, harshly. “You are such an asshole, Grove.”

“I am!” Gilbert exploded. “I’m so glad we got that out of the way.”

Ken laughed again, and then canted his head uncertainly. “You want to suck my cock.”

Gilbert blushed furiously, but nodded.

Ken blew out a breath. “Holy fucking shit. This is so fucked. I ought to—”

Gilbert cringed defensively. “Please don’t! Forget I ever said it!”

Ken barked laughter. “You didn’t actually say anything Grove, I did all the talking!”

Gilbert nodded, mortified and ashamed.

“I really ought to beat your ass, Grove.”

“Maybe I should leave.”

“Maybe you should stop being queer and think about pussy!”

Gilbert hunched his shoulders. “I like pussy,” he complained unconvincingly. That was November 8th. It seemed like a century ago.

“I feel really queer tonight,” he admitted to the cold balcony table and chairs. “I’d beg Ken to put it up my ass, anywhere he wanted to. He knows I want it doggie style from him.”

Well, he didn’t actually know that for sure, as Gilbert had never spoken the words, but they both enjoyed watching girls take it up the ass doggie in videos. In fact, it was during a video playing on Ken’s iPac on Friday night, November 16th, that Gilbert first got Ken’s cock in his mouth.

“Jesus,” Ken had moaned. “You know—” He squirmed, trying to relieve the discomfort in his crotch from his bulging erection. As always at night, they perched side by side on the floor of Ken’s bedroom, leaning against his bed. By unspoken agreement, they hadn’t acknowledged the afternoon in his bedroom a week ago. “I hate being a guy, sometimes.”

Gilbert chuckled. His discomfort wasn’t nearly as bad, but he only had his natural 3-1/4” length to contend with. Ken was fractionally more than twice his length and girth.

“Girls don’t get hard-ons, but if they did, they wouldn’t be afraid to whip them out, like we are.” He snorted derisively. “Like you have anything to be ashamed of, Ken. Really.”

Ken eyed him mistrustfully. “How would you know?”

Gilbert shifted uncomfortably, more from being on the floor, than having his balls crunched. “Only from seeing you in gym, a thousand times.”

Ken squinted. “I never had a hard-on, in the showers, fuckface.”

Gilbert sighed. “I know how big you are. And you know how big I’m not. Why don’t you just pull it out and be done with it?” Daringly, he added: “We both know how much I want to suck it anyway.” He raised his chin defiantly. “I’m not afraid to admit that I’m gay anymore.”

Ken stared at him discontentedly.

“I’m only gay for you, though. I don’t want anyone’s cock in my mouth but yours.” He refused to lower his chin or look away. He was tired of being cowed. “I want to suck your cock, Ken. Will you let me, tonight?” It was technically a sleepover, but neither teen would deign to call it that.

Ken shifted fitfully, obviously distraught. “I don’t know. I’m not queer, like you, Grove.”

Gilbert marginally shook his head. “Getting your cock sucked doesn’t make you gay. That’s my burden. I’m the queer. I’m the one using my mouth.” Deliberately, he extended his hand but held it two feet way from Ken’s bulging crotch. His erection hadn’t diminished as far as Gilbert could tell. “Would you like me to suck you?”

Ken shuddered and said nothing.

“I could use my hand, instead. Or first,” he suggested, stroking vaguely with his curled fingers. “You don’t have to say you like it. You don’t have to say anything, really. All you have to do is let me take it out, and do things with it.” He prayed that Ken wouldn’t punch him, instead.

Ken shook his head. “It’s too fucking dangerous. The door is unlocked. Mom and Dad are still awake. We can’t do this now!” Ken’s pessimism lent Gilbert hope. We can’t do this now, he’d said, not that we couldn’t do it at all. “I can lock the door easy enough.”

Ken clenched his teeth. “It’s perverted!”

“You have the say, one way or the other, Ken. I’m at your mercy.” He dropped his hand to his knee. “I can’t make you want me to suck you. Only you can do that.”

Ken turned brick red. “It’s perverted,” he repeated gruffly. “Fuck no! No! Now, get outa my bedroom, queer!”

Ken pushed up and stood angrily glowering down, fists clenched at his sides. Gilbert guessed their friendship was over. He only hoped that Ken kept his mouth shut in school, and didn’t blast his ex-friend as being patently queer.

Gilbert pushed to his feet, not extending his hand for assistance. “See ya,” he muttered. “I’ll call my mom to pick me up on the way.”

Ken grabbed his arm. “Wait...”

Gilbert watched emotion battle for supremacy on his face: fear, fury, uncertainty, hunger, misery, and obstinacy. “I won’t come in your mouth! I won’t!”

Gilbert’s heart soared. “OK!” he agreed breathlessly. “Anything you want, Ken!”

“You don’t take it out! Yours, I mean! I don’t want to see that fucking thing in my bedroom.”

At least he didn’t say, ‘that tiny little thing in my bedroom’ Gilbert thought. He nodded eagerly. He didn’t want to embarrass himself, anyway.

“If I tell you to stop, you stop!”

Gilbert nodded agreement again. “Anything you say, Ken.”

“And you keep you mouth shut about this, asshole! I mean it, Grove!”

Gilbert blurted laughter. “I’d tell someone? Really, Ken?” He made a Duh! exclamation with his head and hands.

Ken chuckled hoarsely. “I guess I won’t worry about that.”

“I guess not,” Gilbert agreed. He glanced at the door, hunch-shouldered in embarrassment. “Thank you for saying yes, though.” He started at the swat to his shoulder.

“What are friends for? But Grove ... you sure?”

Gilbert slowly nodded in affirmation. “I do. I really want to suck your cock, Ken. Thank you again, for letting me.”

The joint was gone, down to a roach that burnt his fingertips. It was 12:10 am, Saturday morning. Popping the roach in his mouth, he crunched it to death between his rear molars. The THC had started to kick in with both feet. “Holy fuck,” he muttered, blinking slowly. “Am I still here at home?”

He shivered, and not from the cold. He’d just experienced a reality snap. Extraordinarily powerful kush did that to him. He had forgotten the bottle of beer he’d brought out, picked it up, and twisted off the lid. His throat felt sandpaper dry and equally rough and irregular. His tongue felt thick as a slug. It tasted like cum in his mouth. Yuck.

He took an extended pull on the bottle and gave a satisfied belch. Across in the opposite building, someone lowered a bedroom shade and made the window seductively wink at him. He wanted to suck Ken’s cock; he wanted to suck his own long cock, and do it naked right here on the balcony. He wasn’t stoned enough for that.

Circling the table, and yanking out a chair, he plopped down on the cushions with his back to the parking lot and swallowed another mouthful of beer. He’d forgotten the spare Heineken in his coat pocket, and dug it out and sat it on the table. Jesus, the cushions felt coated in ice. Everywhere they contacted his pajama bottoms; heat evacuated his skin like swimmers from shark-infested water. He wished he’d worn something warmer, now, and his damned underwear, too. His balls were freezing.

They hadn’t waited. Going to Ken’s bedroom door, Gilbert listened carefully for sounds in the hallway or other bedrooms, and then gently pushed the button, locking the doorknob. He considered 11:22 pm to be relatively safe. Listening a moment longer, he returned to the bed. “Shut the window, too,” Ken ordered.

Awkwardly, Ken unzipped his fly and freed the button at the top of his jeans. Gilbert’s heart pounded madly against his breastbone, and every part of him shook from adrenaline rush. He watched ken watch him shake.

“You really want to do this?”

“Please,” Gilbert begged. “Don’t make me wait any longer for this.”

Laughing shakily, Ken nodded and spread his shorts; he looked uncertain what to do next. “Do you want to take it out, or do I?”

“Me!” Gilbert croaked. “You just sit down, okay?” Ken did, on the edge of the mattress, and Gilbert dropped to the floor between his legs. “I’ve never done this before, so...” He gave Ken a plaintive smile. “I don’t know what I’m doing, and I’m scared shitless right now.”

“Dude, me too!” Ken exploded. “And I’m fucking loosing my hard-on, too!” He winced. “Sorry, dude.”

“It’s okay. I kinda expected that.”

In truth, he didn’t know what to expect. Gazing breathlessly at the bulge in Ken’s blue underwear and the delineation of his thick shaft, and the bulbous head at the tip, made his balls shrivel reflexively. Did he really intend to do this? Suck his best friend’s cock? Holy fucking shit, man...

He placed his hand on the bulge. Ken jumped, and he did too. The gear beneath the thin material radiated heat. He imagined, rather than saw the outline of Ken’s huge balls through the cloth. Grabbing the waistband, he eased Ken’s underwear down and freed his hidden package from bondage; the large, semi-erect penis flopped downward, the head giving a grotesquely erotic bounce before coming to rest atop the bunched crotch of Ken’s jeans.

Gilbert’s eyes found Ken’s huge testicles and fixed unwavering upon them. Here were Ken’s sperm factories. He wanted Ken to fill his mouth with their output tonight, preferably more than once, letting him swallow every single drop. He feared that fantasy lay out of reach, for the time being, at least. He’d be fulfilled, just sucking his friend’s beautiful cock.

Rousing from his thoughts, Gilbert shivered, nearly shaking himself apart. He laughed thickly at the way his thought processes had slowed to the gait of a sloth. What did he do with the open bottle of Heineken, anyway? The unopened bottle sat on the table, invitingly in reach. Deciding to wait, he spread his jacket and gazed down at his crotch. The cold had shriveled his nuggets to peanut size, and his pecker to a tiny stub. He didn’t need to see inside to know it was so. Regardless, he pulled out the front of his pajama bottoms for a look see. He laughed.

“Would you like my warm, wet mouth?” His penis immediately started to grow.

“It loves you, you know. I love you too. With all my heart and soul and good intentions, penis.” He remembered last night in bed, performing a feat he’d thought impossible. He wondered if he hadn’t dreamed the entire thing, all 14”. He couldn’t quite grasp the thought of so much cock down his throat. He’d try it again later.

He threaded his erection through the flap in his pajama bottoms, letting his testicles absorb what warmth they could inside the flimsy cloth. Luckily, they had his thighs to warm and keep them company. Smiling, he watched his erection elongate and reach his waiting lips. He invited it in for much needed lovemaking and closed his lips about the base of the head. Surprisingly, he enjoyed the thrill of crisp cold air on the bare shaft. Rather than stroke it, he placed his hands on his thighs, and let the exposed staff enjoy the cold also.

“This is so queer,” Ken had said gruffly that first time. He rubbed Gilbert’s head while adding, “Don’t worry. I ain’t gonna stop you, dude.”

Scared witless, Gilbert wished he would. In just a few moments he’d take another boy’s cock in his hand. Sometimes boys experimented with blooming sexuality, masturbating a friend for fun, or engaging in joint masturbation. He’d read online that half of all teenage boys shared with a friend. The capper came when he placed the head of Ken’s cock in his mouth. The point of no return; he could never revert to being heterosexual again. From that instant forward, he’d be ust plain queer.

“You scared?”

“Petrified!” Gilbert gasped. Bulling forward, he took Ken’s erection between his fingertips; Ken shook like a leaf. Gilbert suffered an answering shiver when a sparkling drop of clear semen appeared at the tip. He hadn’t expected that. Convulsively, he wrapped his fingers about the hardening shaft and squeezed gently. Ken shivered again.

“I never, ever expected to have a guy hold my fucking cock.”

Shivering, Gilbert related what he’d read about teenage boys and experimentation. Ken said nothing, and Gilbert began to stroke his thick cock. He loved the way Ken’s skin rode up and down the shaft beneath his hand. It just felt inherently different than stroking his own cock. Wow, he thought distractedly, I like this.

“You don’t have to suck it,” Ken said.

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