How I Got Carter

Chapter 18

By Roe St. Alee


Don’t worry. The story’s not over.

I mean, if you want to freeze frame on this moment, and stop reading right now, that’s ok. It’s a happy ending if there ever was one, and I won’t blame you in the least.

But it’s not the end of the story. And it’s not even some epic moment that’s burned into my brain forever. Honestly, it happened so fast I almost missed it. It’s almost like I didn’t know what Carter did until it was already over, like it never occurred in the present moment. He pulled away, took a step back, and then I understood that he had just kissed me.

Don’t get me wrong. Holy shit. Carter Mulkins just kissed me. But it doesn’t sink in until a few minutes later.

I follow up Carter’s kiss with my usual series of awkward noises and a complete inability to form coherent thoughts or words. I’m still in shock, and still processing. Carter has to take the reins after laying one on me like that.

“Do you want to hang out this weekend?” he asks.

For some reason, his question resonates with me even more than the kiss. He’s making the offer, and it’s my prerogative fo once. I’m in control, and my decision could turn him down. For once I have the power, even if I’m too shell shocked and surprised by what’s happening to effectively wield it.

That being said, it’s simply an observation. Do you really think I’m going to say no?

“What are you doing tomorrow?” I ask.

Carter laughs at me, but in that nice, genuine way that he pulls off so well.

“You have the play tomorrow,” he says, “and I have football in Avon.”

Shit. Why am I always so dumb around him? Oh course I have the play tomorrow. And Carter won’t even be at school for most of the day. The team has an away game that’s on the other side of the city, so they’ll leave after sixth period.

“How about Saturday before your show?” he suggests.

“That sounds good,” I say, like I never suggested Friday night to begin with.

“The weather’s supposed to be nice,” he says. “You want to go for a run?”


A run?

I falter again. We’ve never done anything like that together. I play soccer, but I wouldn’t consider myself a serious runner. The football team always seems like they’re doing more running drills than we are, and…

“Don’t do that.”

I look up at Carter and he’s grinning at me.

“Don’t do what?” I ask. His smile is so pure, I can’t help but share it.

“Don’t think so hard,” he says. “I can always tell when you’re thinking too hard.”

Of course he can. It’s probably all the time.

“Ok,” I say. “Let’s go running.” As baffling as his suggestion seems, there’s no need to complicate things. Not right now.

His smile broadens. “Cool! I’ll want to loosen up after my game, and you’ll be ready for a little break from all your acting.”

It does actually sound kind of nice when he says it like that.

He continues. “I’ll text you tomorrow after the game to figure out details.”

“Ok,” I say.

Half way through the word, however, I start to have second thoughts. Sure, Carter just kissed me, but what is he really trying to do? He wants to hang out again, just like we were doing before everything happened. I haven’t talked to him in weeks, and now he wants to pick up like we never left off. Should I let myself jump back down this rabbit hole?

“Jackson,” Carter interrupts, “you’re doing it again.”

He’s right. I’m totally doing it again.

“Just relax,” he says, grabbing my shoulders and smoothing down the edges of my shirt. It’s strangely comforting, like something my mom might do. “We can take it a day at a time.”

Yes. One day at a time. I don’t need to worry about why I’m backstage with Carter right now and why he decided to come back to me. It’s ok. We can talk about it later. I can dwell on it some other time. Right now it’s just me and Carter. He gave me flowers and told me I was amazing. He said he was sorry, and he wants to spend time with me again. I need that to be good enough for now, because it is.

This time when he leans in for a kiss, I’m ready. Our lips touch, and I let myself ride a wave of happy, nervous energy. It’s quick and clean, but I feel it and taste it, and that’s the one I’ll remember. It’s real, I tell myself. Carter and I have had our first kiss - no booze, no games, and no problems.

I wander out of the backstage area in a daze and find my family. I can tell that Ko and Katy know something’s up, but they do me a solid and leave me alone about it in front of my Mom. I get compliments from everyone, how good I was and how great the show was that night. Opening night was a smash hit, just like I thought it would be.

But only one thing is on my mind: Carter came back to me. There are a million questions that I need answered, and there are a million things I’m not sure about. But Carter’s right. I can’t think so hard. I just need to take it one day at a time.


“Ready to go?”

It takes me a second to collect myself. It’s one thing to expect Carter to be standing there when I open the door. It’s quite another to see him.

He’s wearing a bright teal tank top that only serves to accentuate the muscles in his arms and hint at the body that’s hiding underneath the parts that are covered. His shorts stop above his knee and hang loosely, just barely giving the impression of a nice bulge inside. It’s like a wet dream at the gym.

“Just a second,” I say. I was in the middle of tying my shoes when the doorbell rang, and I squat down in the entryway to finish up.

“Is your mom here?” Carter asks, poking his head inside.

“Nah,” I reply, “she’s with the twins for some recital at school. I’m glad you’re here, ‘cause otherwise I’d have to go.” I stand up and step out the door, closing it behind me.

“Ouch,” says Carter. “That’s why I’m here, huh? To keep you from having to go to a recital.”

“No, I…” I catch the smirk on Carter’s face and stop fighting back. As usual, he’s just messing with me.

Instead of parrying, I take off running and leave him standing in the doorway. If he wants to play games, then he can play catch up.

I look behind me to see how far back he is and almost bump into him. I should have known better. He’s so athletic, there’s no way I could leave him in the dust.

We settle into an easy pace and I start us out on one of my go to routes. I don’t run a ton, but I try to get out a few times a week when we’re getting ready for soccer season. This route is nice because about halfway through you can pick the long way or the short way home depending on how you’re feeling. That makes it either about three miles or five. Honestly, I usually pick the short way.

The best part about today’s run, however, has to be the weather. For mid-November, this is insane. It’s in the upper 60s and the sun is shining so it feels even better than that. A few weeks ago I thought winter was in full swing, but as of this morning you would think it was barely even fall. Heck, Carter is wearing a tank top, and last week we were all decked out in our puffies.

The pace seems to be good for both of us, but I hope I’m not slowing Carter down too much. I want to keep my breath so we can talk. From the looks of it we’re both starting to work up a bit of a sweat, but more from the heat than our actual effort. We swivel through a roundabout and I turn over to Carter.

“How was the game yesterday?” I ask.

Carter doesn’t respond but he shrugs.

“You guys won,” I say. I get the feeling there’s more to it than that for Carter.

He shakes his head. “It wasn’t a good game. We won, but if that’s how we play I don’t see us getting very far in the playoffs.”

Last night’s game was a non-conference team. They were supposed to be pretty good, so I’m surprised that Carter doesn’t think a win was good enough. He’s such a perfectionist, it kills me.

“I’m sure you were just working out some of the kinks,” I say. “You have two more games to make sure you’re ready.”

“Yeah,” he admits, “maybe you’re right. What about you?”

“I don’t think we’re going to make the playoffs,” I say. Our season started well enough, but we dropped a few big games and our postseason prospects aren’t looking especially good. I figure I won’t bore Carter with the details unless he asks.

“Not soccer,” Carter says laughing. “The play last night. How did it go?”

Oh yeah, the play. I think for a second. “It was good. Not like opening night, but it was good.”

“You guys were incredible on Thursday,” he says. “It’d be hard to top that.”

“Thanks.” Even mid run I can feel my cheeks getting hot in response to the praise.

“No, seriously, like I said. You were amazing. It was like you were a totally different person up there.”

That was what he said backstage. That I was amazing. And now he’s saying it again. Why would he say that?

“Come on, dude, just admit it,” he says. “You were really good on Thursday.” He knows I can’t take a compliment, especially from him.

“Yeah, ok, we were good.” Carter’s grinning at me and I can’t help but do it too. He always gets to me. “I’m glad you came. I don’t know if we’ll have a better night than that.”

I hope it doesn’t sound like it was just because of what happened after that. I don’t think I’m supposed to bring that up. We’re just taking it day by day, right? I figure that means we’re not going to sit down and analyze every little thing that happens along the way.

“Yeah, me too.”

I try to read Carter’s expression, but I’m not sure what to think. He’s such an enigma. Here’s this beautiful boy jogging along beside me, telling me I’m ‘amazing’ and kissing me after the show the other night. Is this real life, or am I just imagining it?

I smile a little and let myself get into the zone. We cover the next few miles without talking and I’m surprised how natural it feels to be with Carter again. I feel flustered and nervous when we’re talking, but actually doing stuff together feels easy. It’s just like it used to be with him. Here I was, all geared up to have a serious talk during our run, when all we had to do was hang out with each other.

I’m surprised to see that we’re already coming around the final corner and back onto my street. We’ll be back home in just a few blocks. I slow my pace to a walk for a cooldown and Carter follows suit.

Maybe I’m complicating things. We’re just going to see what happens. Carter as much as admitted he likes me, and that was a huge step. I can’t expect him to know exactly what he wants and needs right off the bat, anymore than I could expect to know that about myself. And that’s a whole different can of worms: What do I want? What do I…

“Don’t do that,” Carter says, giving me a little push in the back to break my train of thought.

“Do what?” I ask.

He laughs. “Don’t think so hard. You’ll give yourself a headache.”

I don’t even bother trying to deny it. Am I that easy to read?

We step into the house and I start to unlace my shoes and take them off. It almost feels colder inside than it was outside. This weather is crazy. The whole front of my shirt is about soaked with sweat, not something I would usually expect in the middle of November.

I look at Carter and he’s in the same boat. His tank top is wet and there are beads of perspiration running down his arms and the top part of his chest, visible in the V of his tank top. He looks sexy as hell covered in sweat. I’m sure it’s the same way when he comes in from football practice, but I don’t get to see nearly as much of him when he’s all bundled up in pads and a jersey.

“You like what you see?” Carter asks, totally catching me staring.

I look up from his body to meet his eyes. He doesn’t seem bothered by it.

“Yeah?” I suggest weakly.

He must not mind, because in response, he pulls his tank top over his head and tosses it down with his shoes.

“I’m sweatier than I thought,” he says. He flexes his arms back and forth and twists his torso, checking himself out, presumably for sweat. He looks down at me and smiles devilishly. Something tells me he’s just trying to put on a show.

If he looks hot with a shirt on, he’s twice as hot without it. I usually see the summer build of Carter. He gets a little leaner and longer during swim season, and tan since he spends more time outside running around, playing basketball, and all that stuff. It’s a damn good look.

Mid-season football Carter, however, is a little bulkier, with maybe ten extra pounds of muscle packed on. He isn’t chunky by any means, but the extra weight makes him look so much more filled out, stronger, and manlier. It’s like having two different Carters, and there’s no way I could decide which one I like better.

“We can go use my shower if you want.”

It takes me a second to realize what I just said. I didn’t mean that we are going to use it at the same time or anything. Just that Carter can use it if he wants, and I’ll go hang out until he’s done. Honestly, can I go five minutes without saying something weird?

“Sounds good, dude.”

Again, if Carter noticed it he isn’t fazed at all. Instead he leads the way up to my room. I can’t help but notice his perfect ass in his running shorts as we go up the stairs, like two giant tennis balls trapped under the fabric, so firm. It’s all I can do not to just reach out and grab the thing.

The instant we get into my bedroom Carter leans down and shucks off his shorts, leaving only a pair of tight, gray compression shorts with yellow trim. They’re a little bit damp from our run, and it makes them slightly more transparent than normal. Even after exercising, there’s a sizable bulge inside, and not a whole lot left to the imagination.

“Well?” Carter asks, putting his hands on his hips. It juts his hips forward ever so slightly and I have to fight the urge to lick my lips. He definitely did it on purpose.

“Well, what?” I ask back, somehow pulling my gaze up and away from the glory inside Carter’s underwear.

He smirks and takes a step toward me.

“Are you coming, or not?” he asks. I can’t help but look back down as he closes the distance between us. Those shorts give him the perfect amount of support. They make his bulge look so firm and solid.

“Where are we going?” I ask.

For the record, I’m not that thick. At this point, I can see exactly what Carter’s getting at, and I absolutely want to go where he’s headed. But he’s taking the lead for once, and it’s turning me on like crazy. I don’t want to give him what he wants, I want him to take it if that’s what he’s in the mood for.

And apparently he is. He stops so his face is only about an inch away from mine, then he reaches down grabs the bottom of my shirt. I hardly have time to lift up my arms before he pulls it up over my head and throws it halfway across the room. A second later he pulls my shorts down to my ankles.

“Go get in the shower,” he says.

I instantly chub up at his command. I can feel my cock straining against the tight fabric of my underwear. He’s never been like this before, so forceful and in control. I like it.

I walk into the bathroom and I can feel his eyes on me the whole way. What’s gotten into him?

Leaning into the shower, I flip the taps on to about where they need to be. We’ll have ten or fifteen seconds before the water gets…

I stop moving and feel Carter push into me from behind. I’m still leaning slightly forward, so the only contact between us is what I assume is his semi pushing lightly into my backside. An erotic surge shoots through my body, and I push harder back into him. He reaches down and pulls me up to a standing position. He grinds his hips lightly into mine and runs his hands across my stomach and up to my chest.

I go limp in his arms as he continues to explore my body. His right hand brushes over my nipple and I feel it stiffen. I can’t see him, but I know he has that same smirk on his face that he was using on me when we were in the bedroom. His hands slide up my ribcage then up to my back and…

He pushes me into the shower.

I stumble over the edge of the tub and flop down ass first into the shower. I’m soaking wet, and I didn’t even have a chance to take my compression shorts off. I look up at Carter, and he takes a second to laugh at me before glancing down at my crotch and raising his eyebrows suggestively. It’s probably quite visible at this point, wet and mostly hard inside my shorts.

Rather than strip off his own underwear, Carter just steps into the shower to join me, helping me to my feet before pushing me back against the wall and pressing his lips against mine. I don’t even have time to react. For a second I stand there numbly, feeling his soft, wet lips pressed against my own, but then I grab the back of his head and return the kiss with everything I’ve got.

I should have known that Carter would be a fantastic kisser. He’s good at everything he does, and there’s no reason kissing would have been any different. We shared a sloppy, drunken kiss a few months ago, but this is totally different. That was a tongue haphazardly getting rammed into my mouth. This is energetic, complex, and delicious.

The whole experience is overwhelming, and I’m about to pull away to catch my breath when I think better of it and force myself to keep going. I’m afraid if I pause this, Carter might realize how crazy it is. We’re making out in the shower. I’m making out with Carter Mulkins, a straight boy who just a few days ago decided that he might like me and wants to see where it takes him. I can’t let this slow down or lose momentum for even a second.

Instead of stopping, I slide my hands down Carter’s hairless back and pull his hips into me. He responds with a slight gasp as our cocks make contact through our tight, wet compression shorts. Mine is stretched tight against the fabric, and it feels like his is too. I grind forward and backward and side to side and a jolt of pleasure runs through my whole body. At first I thought it was weird that we were both still wearing underwear, but rubbing against Carter like this is even hotter with the little bit of clothing we have.

As the erotic sensations grow, one of Carter’s hands starts to trace a line lightly down my spine. When he reaches my waistband, he slides his fingers under it and reaches down to gently cup my left asscheek. Given the tacit approval, I move both of my hands from his hips back onto the two perfect mounds of flesh on Carter’s backside. Even through his underwear, they feel amazing - firm yet supple.

We pull each other in tighter and I relish the contact between our slippery, smooth stomachs when they come together. I slide myself up and down against Carter, causing wonderful, erotic sensations from our chests all the way down through our cocks. We’ve never had this much body contact before, and Carter responds by pushing his tongue into my mouth. This is my first real french kiss, and if things were hot before, they’re on fire now.

I finally break the kiss to catch my breath, but I still don’t give Carter a chance to think about stopping. Instead, I drop to my knees in front of him and run my hands up his wet thighs. During our grinding, Carter’s now fully hard package shifted over to lie across his right hip, and as my left hand reaches the area, I roll my fingers across the highly visible ridge of his cockhead.

The instant I make contact, Carter’s cock jumps in his shorts and a light moan escapes his lips. I wrap my hand fully around his rigid shaft and trace the outline of it down from the head to the base. It might be my imagination or just my raging libido, but he looks even longer and thicker than last time I saw him.

I look up at Carter and he makes eye contact with me. His cheeks are flushed and the desire is written clearly across his face. Still looking up at him, I lean forward and wrap my mouth around the outline of his head. I follow the path of my hands and slide my lips all the way down to the base, never breaking our gaze.

“Oh, fuck, Jackson.” Carter throws his head back and pushes his hips forward, trying to get more of himself into my mouth. I take a few more seconds to explore the shape of his manhood through his shorts before hooking my fingers up into the waistband and releasing him.

His perfect cut cock flips out and sticks straight at me. I really missed this. While getting jacked off or getting blown feels amazing, I never enjoy it quite as much as I like getting to put my mouth all over him. The taste, the feel, the smell - I love every second of it. Warmed up from our run and then the hot water in the shower, Carter looks bigger and juicier than ever, like his cock is just begging me to put it in my mouth.

I do.

I take the head into my mouth, tasting it and loving how full it makes my mouth feel. I swirl my tongue around the end, savoring the contours and ridges of his big, flared head. I run the tip of my tongue up and down his exposed frenulum, feeling him twitch again under my ministrations.

“Oh my god,” Carter moans, reaching a hand down to cradle the back of my head. He pushes forward gently, and I don’t fight him, instead driving my head forward onto his shaft.

I bob my head up and down while Carter lightly rocks his hips in time with the motion, our smooth, toned bodies under the spray of the showerhead. This is heaven.

Once we have a good rhythm going, I raise up my hands to explore Carter’s hips, stomach, thighs, and ass. He’s like an adonis, with all the right edges, ridges, and curves. I love the way his hip bones jut out ever so slightly. His rippled stomach is superb. His ass is taut with muscle but layered with the perfect amount of soft padding over the top of it. And then there’s the masculinity of the band of neatly trimmed pubic hair above his cock.

“I’m so close…”

Carter’s voice shakes me out of my reverie of body worship, and I look up to see what he wants, sliding back until just the head of his dick is resting on my tongue. He’s close, but does he want me to stop, or does he want me to finish him off?

Carter looks down at me and implores me.

“Oh God, dude, make me cum.”

I don’t need to be told twice. I take him back into my mouth and take a few slow strokes over the first inch or two of his member. Then I extend to the first three inches. I know where I want to go with this, but I want it to build up a little bit.

I keep up my rhythm, slowly taking more and more of him into my mouth. I can hear his breathing getting louder, and I know I have him right on the edge. It’s time to finish him off.

I grab handfuls of both his asscheeks and pull him as far into my mouth as I can, burying him to the hilt. I hold him there in my throat, and I can feel his rod stiffening and swelling with the start of his orgasm. Here it comes!

Finally I pull off just in time to take the first shot of his cum directly in my mouth. It’s warm and salty, just like I remember it. I swallow every drop, then hold him there for a few more seconds, gently cleaning off the last few drop of cum with my tongue as they leak out.

Carter pulls out, probably overwhelmed by the sensation.

“Holy shit,” he says breathlessly, “that was amazing.” He takes a few gulps of air and then pulls me up to my feet.

I partly expect him to drop down and return the favor, but instead he turns me around so my back is facing him. He slides up behind me and reaches around to put his hands on my chest and stomach. I close my eyes as his fingers explore my body and bask in the sensations.

He pulls away and I pop my eyes open, wondering what he’s up to. Then he’s back pressed against me, but now I feel a bar of soap in his hand as he moves across my torso. He sets the soap back down and resumes his explorations. The soap adds a new sensation to it, making everything slippery and erotic in a new way.

Finally, his hands drop below my stomach and slip under my waistband. I relax back into Carter’s body and enjoy more of the flesh on flesh sensations that we were feeling before. He wraps his hand around my rock hard tool and starts gently stroking it, the soap acting as a lubricant. Needless to say, it feels amazing.

As Carter continues jacking me off, I start to feel his dick perking back up, pressing lightly into my backside. It’s pushing directly into my crack, and I push back into him. The contact down there feels… weird, but good.

To be honest, I haven’t done a ton in the way of self exploration down on that side of things. I’ve jacked off about a million times, just like any healthy teenage boy. But besides a handful of quick feels, I haven’t done much with my butt. I guess I always figured I’d be a top. I make a mental note to look into that though, because Carter’s semi pressing into the space around my ass is sending erotic sensations all through my body.

I reach down and push my compression shorts down my legs to allow Carter free access. Now when I push back into him, I can feel his cock nestle directly between my cheeks. Feeling his fat, hot meat squeezed into my crack is all it takes to get me right to the brink.

I twist my head around and let my mouth find Carter’s. He locks his lips over mine and I feel my cock start to swell in his hand. He stops jacking me, but holds his hand there as I blow my load, a huge explosion of cum blasting out across the bottom of my shower. I groan and almost lose my footing as I’m swept up in my orgasm, but Carter holds me in place, one hand around my waist and the other wrapped tightly around my spitting dick.

My mind soars above the clouds through the height of my climax and comes to rest at a spot not too much lower than that. I start to catch my breath, wrapped in Carter’s embrace, with the hot water of the shower raining down on both of us.

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