How I Got Carter

Chapter 8

By Roe St. Alee


Ok, maybe it wasn’t as easy as I tried to make it sound.

Bold action.

In my head on Wednesday night it sounded so simple. Pull myself out of my thoughts, brush my fears aside, grab life by the throat, and bend it to my will. No problem.

But real life is never as simple as a decision. I can adjust my mentality all I want, but the situation is way more complicated than that.

I’m in love with a straight boy.

There’s no chance he’ll ever feel the same way about me. Even if he was gay, he’s still out of my league, considering he’s the hottest, coolest guy I’ve ever laid eyes on. Beyond that, there’s the hundreds or even thousands of other reasons it would never work between me and Carter. As Sam told me yesterday after soccer practice, I’m ‘totally doomed.’

But I’m trying to be ok with all that. There’s no reason to worry about it every second of the day, because life doesn’t run on wishes, dreams, and thoughts. It runs on bold action.

But even with my new and improved attitude, the weekend comes and goes without any progress. Another week starts at school, as as of yet I have not been able to take any sort of action at all, bold or otherwise.

I mean, I had to watch my little brother and sister on Saturday, then I hung out with Katy on Sunday before helping my mom do some chores in the afternoon. Plus homework, a paper I need to write for English class, and a group project for history. Who has time to take bold action when there’s so much other stuff to do? At this rate, I’ll be single the rest of my life, but I’ll have a very tidy house and and high honors on my high school diploma.

That being said, things are going pretty well.

My relationship with Sam is surprisingly not awkward at all. I was worried for the first couple days after it happened, but I haven’t gotten any bad vibes from him. It’s almost like sex is a hobby for him, and he was just showing me what he likes to do in his spare time. I just keep telling myself: It’s only weird if I make it weird. As far as Sam and I go, things haven’t changed a bit.

If anything’s changed, it’s how I feel about sex. I liked it. Hell, I liked it a lot, and I want more. While my desire isn’t quite as indiscriminate as Sam’s might be, I’d do just about anything to try some things out with Carter. Handjobs, blowjobs - you name it. Then, I’d like to try them again, just to be sure.

But alas, I am in fact ‘doomed.’ Falling for a straight boy.

It was never a good idea, but every time I look at Carter, I get the feeling that it was inevitable. From the top of his head to the tips of his toes, Carter is everything I’ve ever wanted and so much more. I want to talk to him, look at him, think about him, grab him, kiss him, fuck him. Anything and everything.

And that’s exactly what I’m doing right now.

Looking at him, I mean. I should probably be taking notes or offering to help, but instead I’m just watching Carter drip sodium hydroxide into an unknown compound that we need to identify. I’m watching the intense concentration in his face as he furrows his brow and slowly curls his bottom lip up into his mouth and bites on it. That’s his concentration face, and no matter how many times I see it I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of it.



Looks like Carter caught me staring. Which means he either thinks I’m a creeper or, even worse, that I’m not pulling my weight on this lab.

“What?” he asks again, starting up that little half smile of his that makes me think he’s just making fun of me. “Seriously, Jackson, if you’re just gonna sit there and stare at me the whole time, I don’t think I’ll be able to concentrate.

I can tell my cheeks are getting red. This keeps happening. I do something weird and now I have to try and wriggle my way out of Carter thinking I’m some kind of lunatic. He just throws me off being all cool and handsome all the time.

“Sorry,” I finally reply, trying to defuse the embarrassing situation if I can. “You had a funny look on your face.”

“Funny?” He furrows his brow and looks at me skeptically. “What kind of funny look?”

Again, I’m at a loss. Sometimes I think it would just be easier to spill my guts and be done with it, instead of having to play these games with myself every time Carter so much as breathes. But of course here I am, stuck once again in a situation where...


Are you kidding me? A fire drill? And it’s right in the middle of lab.

As much as I’m glad to have successfully evaded admitting to Carter that I stare at him because he’s the most beautiful person I can imagine, I am not at all pleased about delaying our lab work.

I look around the room and see that no one else has gotten up from their stations to exit the building. We’re all looking expectantly to the front of the room waiting for instructions from Nizen. This lab has been a serious pain, and I’m not sure about the rest of the class, but I’d rather take my chances with the Fire Marshall than have to redo it.

Nizen looks at all of us, and from his pained expression I’d gather he understands our plight only too well. He looks up at the blaring fire alarm, then back at us. He repeats the process several times, but it has no effect on the alarm. Finally he throws his hands in the air.

“Everybody out!” he declares, defeated. “Make sure you don’t leave any dangerous chemicals where they could actually cause some real danger to occur. Once your station is secure, let’s head out to the parking lot.”

A collective moan goes up from the class as we close all our containers and shut down our lab tables. We’re almost halfway done with the lab period, and at this rate we’ll have to work twice as fast when we get back if we have any hope of finishing at all.

After we waste about twenty minutes being counted, even that tiny flicker of hope has fizzled out into nothingness. We trudge back into the school and classroom like a funeral procession. Instead of returning to our stations or sitting at our desks, we all loiter around the room waiting for Nizen to return and decide our fate.

“I won’t make you redo or finish the lab,” he declares as he enters the room, eliciting a little cry of joy from most of the class. “However,” he says, “I need something to evaluate and put in the grade book.”

I liked where he started, but now I’m concerned.

“I’ve decided,” he continues, “that as your homework, you and your lab partner can fabricate the results of what you didn’t finish, and then write a lab report with your best guesses of how the experiment would have gone had you finished it.”

A collective groan goes up from the class. That sounds like a lot of work.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Nizen warns us. “Pouting will get you nowhere.”

That would be a good family motto for the Nizen clan.

“If you’re a good scientist, you should know exactly what you’re getting yourself into before you even sit down to run an experiment. Your hypothesis should almost always be right. In this case, let’s just assume that it is.

“You all have phones and emails and Facebook, and I’m sure you have no trouble socializing with your friends after school is done. Let’s put that technology to good use and collaborate on tonight’s homework.”

His explanation, as much as it pains me to admit it, makes sense. But that does very little to stem the negativity most of the class is feeling toward our new assignment.

I say most of the class, because it doesn’t sound bad to me. Collaborating with the one and only Carter Mulkins outside of class? You don’t have to twist my arm.

I turn happily back to Carter but he’s not returning anything close to my look of joy. He looks, quite frankly, disturbed. Now it’s my turn to ask the questions.


“I’m not going to be here tomorrow,” Carter says nervously, as though I might be upset with him.

“What do you mean you’re not going to be here tomorrow?” I ask.

Tomorrow, if I’m not mistaken, is Thursday, which is a school day, which involves coming here, regardless of whether Carter meant this specific class or the school in general.

“I have a dentist’s appointment, and then we have to travel for a football scrimmage.”

Football travel. Usually that means missing a period or two at the end of the day, which means Carter won’t be coming to chemistry tomorrow. The dentist means missing some time in the morning, which is when we have study hall together and would ordinarily do something like this.

Long story short, I don’t know when the heck we’re going to get this thing done.

I shrug my shoulders and try to look helpless. Hopefully Carter has an idea, because I sure don’t.

“Are you free tonight?”

How ironic is that? These are words I’ve been waiting and dreaming I would one day hear Carter say to me. This isn’t the context I was hoping for, but I’ll take it.

“Yeah, soccer ends at about five, and then I don’t have to be home for dinner until about eight,” I respond. “What do you have in mind?”

“We usually get off from practice at the same time,” he says, “so I can get you a ride back to my house and we can work on it after that.”

“Yeah,” I say, “that should work.”

My mom works late tonight and I don’t have to watch the twins or anything. That should give us plenty of time to get the lab done, and then she can pick me up on her way home.

“That’s not too much trouble?”

I shake my head emphatically. But not too emphatically. Enough to let Carter know that it’s not too much trouble, but not enough to let him know I’d like to rip his clothes off and explore his body with my tongue.

“Cool. Just meet me after practice and we can catch a ride to my place with one of the other guys on the team.”

“Works for me,” I reply.

Just as the bell rings, Carter throws me one of his best, most awesome, genuine smiles. Thankfully, I’m leaning against a desk, because I half swoon when I see it. This boy, his smile, his… everything. It’s perfect and I want every bit of it.

Soccer practice is two hours long. That’s completely normal. Soccer practice is almost always about two hours. Usually, unless it’s conditioning day, that time flies by. Today, however, the seconds could not tick more slowly. It seems like every time I look up at the clock on the scoreboard, about ten have gone by.

But even at that rate, enough time does eventually pass that practice comes to a close and we head into the locker room to get showered and changed. I do it as fast as I can, and after a quick word with Ko and Sam about this or that, I practically run out the door.

Carter told me to just hang out in front of the school at the pick up and drop off area until he comes out. One of his teammates is supposed to give us a ride back to Carter’s place.


It’s hard to believe. The belly of the beast. In only a few short minutes, I’ll be going to a place that currently only exists in the fantasies of my imagination. I never could have come up with an excuse to get over there on my own, but for some reason, fortune decided to drop this wonderful situation straight into my lap. Fate did all my scheming for me, and as soon as Carter gets in from practice, I’m going to his house.

I wonder what it will be like. To be honest, I’m not even sure where it is. I feel like there’s some people who have friends over to their house all the time, and then there are people who don’t. I guess I’m one of the latter, and Carter might be too. For me it’s just that there isn’t much to do. I spend most of my free time at Ko’s house, so I’ve never really invested in anything exciting to do at my own.

Maybe Carter’s the same way. I know he hangs out a lot with a few guys from the football team, so there’s a good chance he doesn’t have a lot of video games or anything like that. Or maybe his parents, who I’ve heard are pretty wealthy, have one of those houses where everything is expensive and no one is allowed to touch anything or even go into some of the rooms. I’ve never understood those sort of people, but who knows?

“Hey, asshole!”

My train of thought is derailed as two hands push hard straight into the middle of my back. I turn around in a huff to see who’s trying to beat me up. My anger and surprise become laughter in an instant once I see who it is.

“What’s up, Ko?”

“I don’t know man,” he answers. “I don’t feel like I even see you enough to know what’s up, unless I’m driving you around somewhere.”

He’s kind of right about that. I’ve been hanging out with Sam a bit more, and Ko a bit less lately. School has been super busy, so I haven’t even had much time to talk or fool around with him in study hall for the last two weeks.

“Sorry, dude,” I say somewhat lamely. “I’m been really busy-”

“With your new friends?”

Ouch. That stings a little bit, but I guess I deserve it. So much of my time and energy has been going towards Carter, I need to make sure I don’t forget about my other friends.

Luckily, before I have to apologize, make excuses, or explain myself, Koichi punches me in the shoulder and laughs.

“Don’t look so freaked out,” he says. “I’m just giving you shit. I know you’ve been busy, and you’re allowed to have other friends besides me. But I need to be honest, Jackson.” His face turns grave for a second before he continues. “I got some new games for us to play, and they are not going to beat themselves.”

We make plans to hang out over the coming weekend and Ko walks away towards the student parking lot. A lot of exciting things have been happening for me lately, and I need to remember the people who have my back no matter what. Koichi’s a good friend. In fact, so good that I don’t think he even could be mad at me, pretty much no matter what I did. But still, that doesn’t mean I need to tempt it.

After a few more minutes to wait and think, a red SUV pulls up to the sidewalk. As the rear window rolls down, I see Carter’s beautiful face pop out.

“Need a ride?” he ask, beaming.

I hop in the back and say hi to Luke, the driver, and Robert, his passenger. They’re both seniors and best friends. They’re on the swim team, so I know them to some extent, but Carter plays football with Robert.

The ten minutes or so we spend riding to Carter’s house, all we talk about is girls. While the topic of dating females doesn’t appeal to me as much as I’m sure it does to them, I’m still interested. On one hand, I’m always intrigued by what Carter might have to say on the subject, and on the other - I won’t lie, I just like to gossip.

After ten minutes or so of discussing the merits of having steady girlfriends versus trying to engage in as many casual flings as possible, we arrive at Carter’s house.

Carter’s house is big.

I knew it would be, at least as of a few minutes ago when I noticed what part of town we were getting into. All the houses here are big. But it’s one thing to drive by on my way to someplace else, and another to be standing in front of a huge ass house. It makes me feel tiny.

I haven’t talked to Carter too much about what his parents do for a living, but I’d heard that his dad was some kind of wealthy businessman - a lawyer or something like that. Apparently, business is good, because this house is right on the border of what I might call a mansion.

Carter punches a code at the front door and it opens. Apparently wealthy folks don’t use keys.

“Come on in!” he says, waving me into his house.

I reply with something in between a “thanks” and a “woah,” as I step into an expansive and well-decorated entryway. Rich people are something else. They have rooms for entering the house. A specific room, just for coming and going. Crazy. My house dumps you straight into the living room as soon as you step in the door.

We head through the dining room and kitchen, reaching a door that leads down into the basement. Before I follow Carter down the stairs I’m distracted by a TV, which is blaring in the next room over. From here I can see the back of a curly head watching from the couch. I’m about to ask Carter if that’s his mom, but he calls back up the stairs before I get the chance.

“You coming?” he asks.

“Yeah,” I respond, as I clamber down to the basement.

That’s kind of weird. If I had someone over to my house, I would definitely have them meet my mom if she was home. That being said, at my house it would be hard to avoid bumping into her on the way through our tiny little living room, whereas at Carter’s there are probably several different routes we could have taken on our way to the basement door, all of which would not disturb her TV time.

I immediately forget whatever I was thinking about, because Carter’s basement is awesome.

It’s basically the coolest thing I can imagine. There’s a foosball table, some workout equipment, a big stereo, a computer, and a bunch of other toys and games scattered around. The crown jewel of the room, however, is the massive flat screen TV against the far wall, stocked with what looks like an Xbox and a Playstation, and tons of games and movies on the shelves behind it.

“Dude,” I say, half to myself, taking it all in.

“Yeah, it’s pretty cool,” Carter says, almost half-heartedly.

“Pretty cool?” I say incredulously, “This place is awesome! Look at all this stuff!”

Carter simply shrugs. Maybe he’s just used to it, or being modest. If this was my house, I don’t think I’d ever go outside again.

“I guess it doesn’t matter,” I sigh, “because we have a lab report to write.”

That gets a smile out of him.

“You’re totally right,” he replies. “And there’s no fun until that’s over,” he says in his best impression of Nizen, before he breaks into another grin.

If I had a dollar for every time I made Carter smile, I wouldn’t even care about the money because that shit is priceless.


We hear a faint but urgent sounding call from up the stairs. A female voice, I assume it’s his mother. When I look back at him, the smile is gone from his face.

“Hang on a sec,” he says getting up and heading towards the stairs. “I need to see what she wants.”

I flash him a thumbs up and watch him run up to the first floor. With every step his gym shorts cling to his butt a little bit and show off some of its shape. If I ever forget how incredibly beautiful Carter is, it usually only takes a minute or two for him to do something that reminds me.

I have a few minutes to myself in Carter’s room. My plan is of course to get started on our lab report while I wait, but I decide to check my email before I start. I pick up my phone, but I don’t have any signal.

Of course. The basement. I bet this electronic palace has wifi, but I don’t know the password.

It’s one of those things. I’m not expecting any important emails, but now that the idea is in my head to check it, I’m not going to be able to think of anything else until I do it. I decide to log on the old fashioned way using Carter’s computer.

I open up the browser and go onto to my email. Junk, junk, spam, junk, spam, crap. That’s it for today. I’m about to close the window when it hits me. I’m on Carter’s computer.

If you’re judging me right now, don’t even start! This isn’t some classmate of mine that I’m lurking on just to be a jerk or anything like that. This is Carter Mulkins. This is the boy I’ve had a crush on for ages, and I’m in his room, and I’m alone with his computer. Yes, my intentions are absolutely one hundred percent selfish. But there’s no negativity, hurt, or hatred fueling me as I poke around through his browser history. It’s all about love.

In short, yes, I decide to snoop around on Carter’s laptop. I check his browser history, but there isn’t anything too exciting, at least not in the last few days. Football scores, plenty of Wikipedia (we had a history paper due a few days ago), and then typical email and Facebook stuff. Hmph. I quickly scroll through the last couple of weeks, but nothing looks too interesting. Everyone uses incognito browsing when they’re getting weird these days.

Wait, what was that?

I look a little closer at some items. It’s Google search history, so I guess my eyes just skimmed over it at first, but something caught my attention. Now what was it?

There! The word ‘blowjob.’

I click on the link and open the page.

It’s search results for “guys girls who gives better blowjobs.” Exactly what I was looking for. I guess Sam’s conversation last Thursday had quite an impact on Carter.

I won’t lie, I was wondering about the exact same thing, but I hadn’t thought to look it up online. Props to Carter for thinking outside the box. I figure I won’t get head from a girl at any point in my life, so the thought doesn’t intrigue me that much. I do, however, find it much more interesting that the seed of doubt has been planted in the mind of Carter Mulkins.

It looks like he searched a bunch of different times with different phrases, and a few of the websites he wound up going to are pretty crazy, with pictures and videos and everything. I wonder if he watched any videos of guys blowing each other.

Before I can jump any further down the rabbit hole, I hear the basement door open and I quickly close all of the windows and open my chemistry book as though I was getting work done this whole time. I try not to look guilty, and my ruse must work, because Carter doesn’t notice anything out of the ordinary.

We work for about an hour on our lab, and beside the constant distraction of thinking about Carter looking up blowjobs on the internet, before too long we have the thing more or less finished. We have one section that we aren’t sure about, but I’ll ask Nizen during study hall, and then we’ll touch base before we turn it in.

I check the time. It’s only 6:45. I have at least an hour before my mom comes to pick me up.

“So, what do you want to do?” Carter asks.

‘Explore our sexualities together,’ I think to myself.

“You want to play something?” I actually ask out loud, nodding toward the TV.

I’m glad I didn’t get the two mixed up.

We settle on the new Call of Duty. I’ve played it with Ko a bunch of times, so it should be a fair fight.

Playing on the huge TV is amazing. Either of our split screens is easily twice as big as the TV we play on at Ko’s house. I know that what someone owns doesn’t make up for them being a bad person, but this is different. Carter is the boy of my dreams, through and through. Now that I know he lives in a mansion with a kick ass video game setup, I don’t see anything wrong with finding him that much more attractive. It’s like he got cranked up from an eleven to and eleven and a half.

Skill wise, Carter isn’t bad. He might be a little bit better than me at playing the game, but I’m a lot craftier, and can throw all different strategies at him. Koichi is insanely good at video games, and while I can’t pull off half the stuff he can, he’s helped me get a lot better at strategy.

After a few games to warm up, we have a sort of mini tournament between the two of us. For almost an hour we’re enraptured in the game, with the score going back and forth. Finally, I manage to beat him a few times in a row and get a sizable lead.

“Ok,” Carter says, throwing the controller down on the couch between us. “I submit. You’re better than me at Call of Duty.”

“And archery,” I add, trying to rub a little salt in the wound.

Maybe it sounds mean, but I really like winding Carter up. Feeling the way I do about him, he has the upperhand every time we see each other, whether he knows it or not. It’s always nice to have something to hold over his head, even if it’s just a little thing.

“Of course you would bring that up, too,” says Carter, shooting me a dirty look.

“I’m just teasing you,” I concede. “You almost had me the other day. Maybe next time.”

Carter’s eyes light up.

“You think we can shoot again sometime?” he asks.

“Yeah, probably. I’ll ask Sam after practice tomorrow.”


This is a perfect segway into what I really want to talk about with Carter. From what I saw on his computer, it’s obvious that Sam’s exploits have been on his mind. The more Carter thinks about boy on boy blowjobs, the better.

“Maybe Sam will have some more crazy stories to tell us, too.”

I say it casually, as though I’m not just trying to bait him into a conversation. My “bold action” thinking over the last few days has paid off. A week ago, I don’t know if I would have had the guts to say something like that, but with a little mental push, the words come right out.

“Yeah, that’s for sure,” he says, chuckling. “Did you know any of that stuff?” he asks, slightly more seriously. “About him getting kicked out of Segman, I mean.”

I shake my head.

“No,” I answer truthfully. “I mean, I knew he had gotten kicked out, but I didn’t know why.” Carter still looks quizzical, so I continue. “I knew he was gay, I guess, but I didn’t know about the… blowjobs or whatever.”

“Can you believe that? A bunch of guys letting him suck their dicks all the time?” Now it’s Carter’s turn to shake his head. “It’s hard to believe. But then again, it feels awesome, so in a way it’s not that surprising.”

“I guess I wouldn’t know.” I try to sound innocent and slightly embarrassed about it, as though Sam didn’t give me head a week ago. At this point I know exactly how it feels - amazing.

“Oh yeah,” Carter says, giving me one of his cutest sheepish grins. “Sorry.”

I laugh. He’s apologizing for me not ever having gotten a blowjob. That’s pretty funny, in an absurd kind of way.

“It’s not your fault,” I assure him, which gets him laughing too. “Unless you were scheduled to give me head and missed the appointment, but I don’t remember anything like that.”

Carter laughs, which is good. I said it as a joke, obviously, but that doesn’t mean there wasn’t some tiny part of me that wished it was the truth.

“Have you gotten a lot?” I ask tentatively.

“Not too many,” he answers. “Just from Beth. I don’t think she likes doing it, so it hasn’t been very often.”

Beth, obviously, is Carter’s girlfriend. She’s a senior, and is exactly what you’d expect for an adonis like Carter. Pretty, smart, athletic, perky, perfect, and so on. I can’t imagine Carter dating anything less than that. I don’t actually have anything bad to say about her, except maybe the fact that she doesn’t want to put Carter’s dick in her mouth more often. That’s a red flag if you ask me.

“Was it good?” I ask. Part of me is just baiting Carter to talk more on the topic, but I’m also a little bit curious to hear how a high school girl stacks up.

“Yeah, they feel good, if that’s what you’re asking.” Carter shrugs. “I mean, as far as Beth goes, I guess she did a good job, but…” Carter trails off.

“But what?” I ask.

“I dunno,” he says. If it was lighter in the basement, I think I’d see some color creeping into Carter’s cheeks. “Hearing Sam talk about it, I’m not sure if Beth’s were good or not. Don’t get me wrong, they felt great, but Sam made it seem like there might be this whole other level out there.”

“You mean, like, from a dude?”

“No,” Carter says, somewhat definitively.

“Well,” he concedes on second thought, “yeah, maybe. I mean, whoever it is, just like…” He can’t quite seem to find the words. “Somebody who really knows what they’re doing.”

“Oh,” I say, as though I totally get it and neither think nor hope that he might be gay. “I get what you mean. You’ve only ever done it with one person.”

“So I don’t have anything to compare it to,” he finishes. “Like if someone gave you a blowjob right now, you’d think it was the best blowjob ever, because technically, it is.”

“Yeah,” I concur as my mind drifts away to the thought of someone giving me a blowjob right now. Someone very close to me.

It’s times like these I wish I had the confidence that Sam has. I’m guessing he would rip Carter’s pants off and show him a thing or two with his mouth. Unfortunately, I’m not quite at that level. I’ve never given anyone oral before, and I would not only forever ruin my chances with Carter if I gave him a sub-Beth blowjob, but I would also shame the entire race of gay men with my ineptitude. I can’t perform under that sort of pressure.

So much for bold action.

“Man,” Carter says, grabbing at the bulge in his shorts, “all this talk about blowjobs is getting me kind of worked up.”

Carter’s definitely right about that. The mere utterance of the word “blowjob” is enough to get any healthy teenage boy “worked up.” I was getting a little hot and bothered myself, but the instant Carter grabs at his crotch, I’m more or less fully hard. Thankfully I’m wearing tight briefs, and the compression they offer makes it hard to tell.

“Yeah,” I respond with more honesty than Carter realizes. “Me too.”

Carter’s eyes flick back and forth mischievously.

“Do you ever watch porn?” he asks.

I nod in affirmation. I’m being honest, but I would probably say or do anything to keep Carter moving forward at this point.

“My parents never really come down here. Like, ever.” Carter says.

I like where this is going.

“And there’s one pretty awesome thing about that.” He goes over to his computer and works the mouse for a minute. He comes back to the couch and turns on the TV.

The TV comes on, and I am met with the largest display of pornography I’ve ever seen. Obviously I’m stoked beyond anything that I’m watching porn with Carter in his basement right now, but more than that, I’m simply in awe. Forget my tiny little cell phone screen. Forget Koichi’s 27 inch dual monitors. This is how porn was meant to be seen.

“Cool,” I mutter, legitimately in awe. Short of the real thing, this is every boy’s fantasy.

We watch the porn for a minute or two, and I’m struck once again by how big of an opportunity this is. I’m alone with Carter in his basement, both of us are horny, and we’re watching porn together at his suggestion. If Sam was here, he’d be laughing at me. When he wasn’t blowing Carter, that is.

I may not have even a tenth of Sam’s confidence in these situations, but I know I need to conjure up enough to pull this off. I swore to myself that I would take bold action when I need it, and that I wouldn’t let a moment like this slip through my fingers. So, while I can’t come right out and say what it is that I want right now, I can at least make a bit of a suggestion.

“Man, I could definitely jack off right now.” I give my bulge a plainly visible squeeze for effect.

It seems to work, because Carter’s eyes follow the movement down to my crotch and then back up to my face. His mischievous smile returns, even bigger this time.

“Do you want to?”

My heart stops.


I’m not always the most articulate in these situations. I think I used up all my spunk with my initial comment. At the actual possibility of this happening, I’ve returned to my normal, hopeless-around-Carter self.

“I get to do this all the time,” he says, nodding his head toward the fifteen square feet of porn on the wall to my right, “but it might be cool for you to try it, too.”

I finally compose myself enough to stammer out an “Ok, sure.” Carter hands me a couple tissues and sits down on his end of the couch. I take my seat at the opposite end.

I guess we’re both just going to sit here and jerk it?

I try to be discrete and not look over at Carter while I get situated, but it’s tempting. On one hand, part of me thinks this might just be some weird joke, and I want to let him make the first move. On the other hand, I want to see every square inch of Carter’s body, especially if he’s hard and jacking off.

Eventually, out of the corner of my eye, I see Carter slide his pants down and make the familiar motion of stroking his dick. It’s seriously happening!

When I follow suit, my penis springs up and slaps against my stomach. I’m not sure about Carter, but I’m as hard as a rock right now. Four feet away from me on the couch is the boy of my dreams, and he’s pulling out his dick.

The porn we’re watching is actually not too bad. Neither of the actors are too porny, and they’re both young and good looking. Girls don’t gross me out or anything like that. Sexy people are sexy, whether they’re guys or girls, and watching a hot, muscular dude go to town on a hot, fit female is not going to turn me off. Yes, two dudes would be better, but I’m not about to suggest it.

The whole time, I want so badly to turn and look at Carter. I’ve seen him naked in the locker room before, but that’s different. A naked body doesn’t have any implication. It’s just a body. Right now, Carter is hard, watching porn, and jerking off. His body is screaming sex, and it’s taking every shred of willpower that I have to keep facing the screen and settle for watching the movement of his hand up and down in the very corner of my peripheral vision.

It’s only a couple of minutes before I can tell that Carter’s getting close, because he’s moving his hand faster. That turns me on, of course. But what really starts pushing me over the edge is the tiny moan I hear come out the back of his throat. It’s barely audible, but that tiny sound invades my imagination and makes it start running wild.

Imagine Carter moaning above me as I suck him off. Imagine that same sound in my ear as we fuck. It takes me from “aroused” to “brink of cumming” in about half a second.

I hear another noise from Carter and I can’t help it anymore. I turn to look at him just as he throws his head back in orgasm. His eyes are closed tight as he bucks his hips into his hands and empties his load into a wad of tissues. It’s almost better that I can’t see his dick underneath it all. It makes me focus on his face and his body in general, writhing around in ecstasy as he cums in the soft light of the TV. His expression is hot beyond any description.

Watching Carter cum puts me over the edge in a heartbeat, and I blast my jizz into my own tissues. I’m still cumming when I see Carter’s eyes start to open and I turn back towards the screen. I close my eyes and reimagine the way he looked a few seconds ago, helpless under the thrall of his orgasm. God, if only I could burn that image into my head forever.

For a perfect couple of seconds, I bask in the afterglow of our first mutual orgasm. Yes, we were separated by the length of a large, leather couch, but we came together, and that felt really good. Intimate and personal in a way - nothing like sex, obviously - but still not something you would do with just anybody, right?

As my glow fades out, however, I suddenly realize how incredibly awkward this is. I’m sitting on the couch with Carter, cum-soaked tissue in one hand and - quite literally - my dick in the other.

Somehow this hadn’t occurred to me until right this second. While we were jerking off, I didn’t think anything of it. Carter was focused on the porn up on the screen, and I was focused on the fact that Carter was rubbing his dick a few feet away. When your penis is calling the shots, you don’t worry about how weird it all might be five minutes from now.

Paralyzed by fear, I’m not sure whether I should say something, do something, or maybe just wait until Carter makes the first move. I can only pretend to relish an orgasm for so long before it will become obvious that I don’t know what to do. Maybe I could just sigh loudly and contentedly, and that would count as progressing the situation, and then it would be Carter’s turn to so something.

Is sex always this awkward?

I’m leaning toward jumping over the back of the couch, running up the stairs, and pretending none of this ever happened, when the whole awkward situation is suddenly defused.

Strange as it sounds, it’s actually my mom who saves the day.

Bzzzt. Bzzzt.

My phone vibrates twice with the sound of a text message. The second I grab my phone, everything starts back into motion. I read a text that says she’s waiting outside to pick me up, and Carter gets up and grabs a trash can for us to dispose of our towels. Life has resumed, and we don’t have to talk what just happened, at least not right now.

“That’s my mom,” I say, gathering up my books and tossing them in my bag.

Glad to have an excuse to escape, I take off without more than a quick nod in Carter’s direction. I’m most of the way up the stairs when Carter calls up to me.

“Hey, Jackson!”

I look down and just see him backlit by the lights in the basement, so I can’t make out his face.


I laugh. Like I’m going to walk around school talking about this. I’m gay, but I’m not an idiot.

“Of course.”

“Cool.” I can’t see him, but I can hear the smile in his voice. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

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