Hockey Team Sleepover 02

Everyone is 18+ and fully consenting.

Chapter 2: Beanbag

After our boners finally settled enough, Max headed out of the bathroom and grabbed some shorts. I finished showering, wiped the counter and stared at my naked reflection in the mirror. Max cleared his throat behind me and smacked me in the butt again. I threw on some shorts too and we walked upstairs side by side, shoulders not touching but close enough to feel heat, both pretending the last few minutes hadn’t been anything special. By the time we hit the kitchen, we’d put the proverbial masks back on, nonchalant smiles and loose posture, acting like nothing happened.

Breakfast was already loud as the boys sat around eating and chatting. Max and I sat shoulder to shoulder at the table. Our knees knocked under it every time one of us shifted, and neither of us pulled away. We kept poking and elbowing each other the way we always had, except now every touch felt like something special to me, like my body was keeping track of each time it happened. When his arm brushed mine, I felt a tingle travel up my side, pretending I hadn’t noticed while noticing everything.

Little Ryan slid the syrup across the table and looked me dead in the eye.

“Careful," he said with a smirk, "it squirts out fast the first time.”

The guys burst out laughing, and I shook my head, closing my eyes. Max's mom looked over at us and made a little hand gesture that moms do. "Oh you boys."

A couple of guys snorted into their orange juice. Max didn’t look at me, just smirked and added, “Yeah, you gotta let it warm up first or it’s over before it starts.” 

It sounded innocent enough, breakfast talk, but the timing made it a funny innuendo.

A ripple of snickers went around the room because Max’s mom was right there at the stove, back turned, pretending not to hear any of it. The jokes stayed coded, all raised eyebrows and half sentences that landed and moved on before they could be called out.

Between jokes, I kept my eyes on my phone, thumb scrolling nowhere, my screen lighting up and dimming depending on the next thing that popped up. I was hyper-aware of Max next to me, of how close he was, of the clean, just-showered scent on him mixing with fruit and waffles and syrup. 

—[]—

When we were done getting stuffed with breakfast foods, most of us grouped up to go skateboarding. It was kind of a loose, sunburned afternoon that we were used to. It was unusually warm for December, and we mostly just wore t-shirts or hoodies. 

We took turns pushing off down the block, boards rattling over cracks, chirping each other for bailing or landing something clean. Max handed me my board back when it skidded away, and his hand grabbed my arm before I stepped backward into traffic. The shock that I almost got hit by a car hit me all at once, and I was stunned for a second. 

He laughed and said, “You ok?” 

“Yeah,” I said, grabbing his arm back, then pulling away with a smile and skating away.

We took a group piss break in an alley, something we’d done a million times before, but this time it felt different. The brick wall we aimed at was radiating heat from the sunny afternoon, the air smelling like dust and stone and someone having smoked in the area not long before we got there. Everyone shuffled into place as we whipped it out together. 

Max drifted in right next to me without comment, close enough that our shoulders almost touched. I felt him there before I even looked directly, the way his presence tugged at my attention.

Ryan, the little guy, immediately went full clown mode, dropping his pants and underwear to his ankles, his little butt stick out as he peed like a toddler. He leaned back like in an exaggerated way as we all looked at laughed. He wasn’t even holding his dick. He put his hands on his hips and just let his dick aim itself forward. He was lucky there was no wind.

I was suddenly aware of details I’d never noticed before. The way Max shifted his weight from one leg to the other making his butt cheeks tense one at a time. The sound of him exhaling through his nose, almost like he was trying to say something with his breath. I tried to stare straight ahead at the wall, telling myself to relax, to stop narrating in my head. I caught myself noticing a small freckle halfway up Max's shaft, somewhere I shouldn't have been looking, a stupidly specific detail I immediately wish I hadn’t noticed, but now I would never unsee.

When we finished up, one by one everyone zipped and shuffled back out like normal, laughter carrying ahead of us as we fucked around. I hung back half a second longer than usual, just thinking about things, then caught up to everyone, my heart thumping hard. It bothered me in a way, that something so ordinary had felt like an intense moment again. It bothered me more that I already knew I’d remember it later.

—[]—

That night, Max came over, just like he said he would.

This time there was no group around to buffer us. When he closed the door to my room, the click hit me as something important, like it sealed us in and set a tone of privacy. I was slouched in a beanbag chair, half-focused on the Xbox menu, the controller warm and a little slick in my hands from having held it for so long already. He crossed the room without saying anything and dropped into my beanbag chair, hip to hip with me. The fabric swished audibly and reshaped around us, pulling us closer as our bodies pressed together. Our shoulders and sides touched and didn’t separate, and neither of us made a joke about being too close, which itself felt like something new.

As we started to fuck around and play some games, we adjusted in small, careful ways, knees angling inward, weight settling wherever the beanbag decided it would. The heat between us built over a few minutes. Every movement pressed us together again. 

He cleared his throat and said, almost offhand, “This thing always traps heat,” like he was just saying some mundane comment about the furniture.

“Yeah,” I said, even though it hadn’t felt hot a minute ago.

We loaded a new game and the menu music hummed, but we barely put any effort into playing. We were both a little distracted. Our hands bumped into each other as we played.

I noticed everything with more intensity than normal. The clean-laundry smell of his hoodie mixed with his natural scent. The slow rise and fall of his chest compared to my own quicker pace of breathing. The steady pressure of his leg against mine that stayed there instead of drifting away. 

We talked around the tension without addressing it. We talked about people at school, about the guys on the team, about nothing that really mattered. It was the first forced small talk of my life, and every sentence felt like there was another meaning behind it. Each pause felt like an open space where one of us might move the topic to sex. When his knee pressed in again and stayed, I didn’t move, and neither did he. The closeness stopped feeling accidental and started feeling intentional, even if neither of us said it out loud.

“Last night was so cool,” I finally said. “How have we not talked about that today yet?”

He chuckled. “It was awesome.”

“It was so cool that we lost our v-cards together, especially that I could hear you clapping her body through the wall.”

“Nice,” he said as he reached down to adjust his dick.

“To be honest,” he went on, “I couldn't really get hard at first. Too nervous.”

"Oh, damn,” I said, “I had the opposite problem. I came immediately. I had to fuck her again to even be sure it counted."

"Yeah, that's funny," he said, "That's never happened to me."

“Never?” I said, narrowing my eyes. “Not even when you jerk off?”

“Nope,” he replied nonchalantly.

"You must not be doing it right," I said. 

He looked at me puzzled, and I returned the same look to him. I guess I was projecting, but I just couldn't imagine in my head how a guy would not cum quickly when stimulated.

“I’m not wrong about how I get off,” he said, looking at me like I was crazy. His body still felt warm against me.

“You must be,” I said, thinking hard. 

Then, before I could think of anything else, I blurted out, “I bet I could make you cum in under a minute, with the proper technique.”

"Shut the fuck up!" he said quickly, tapping my nutsack sharply with the back of his hand and making me bend forward, holding my crotch.

"Oh god," I groaned, feeling the sting in my balls. It was a good nut tap. I felt it up my spine, the surge of anger rapidly cooling to broey contentment that I was used to.

My brother, Kurt suddenly burst through my door, interrupting my pain. He startled Max for some reason, who jumped a little. 

"Have you seen my..." Kurt said, stopping short as he looked over at me. 

"You ok?" he asked. 

I didn't answer, just looked up with squinted eyes, dazed.

He looked at Max. "Why do you have a boner?"

"Shut the fuck up," Max said, adjusting his shorts but failing to hide it. He grabbed a blanket off the floor and dragged it over himself, half covering me as well since we were on the same beanbag chair. 

"It's something that happens to men and you're still a little boy," he said, smirking at Kurt.

Kurt was apparently offended, even though it was an absurd insult, and he rolled his eyes. He looked around, saw his charger on my desk, grabbed it and left, muttering something about “gays” under his breath.

"So," I said, turning my face to Max, "Why do you have a boner?"

“Shut up,” he said, then his face softened a bit. “I don’t know, it’s random.”

Unlike on the couch the night before, we were sitting in un-forced proximity this time. Same beanbag chair. Same blanket. But for no reason.

“You as horny as I am after finally having sex?” I said casually, picking up the controller and starting a new round.

“Honestly,” he said, “I’ve been taking wank breaks the whole day. I’ve never been hornier in my life than I am today. It’s like finally having sex only made me want it more.”

“Same!” I said. It was awesome that we had the same experience. “Except I haven’t beaten it since our shower this morning.”

We both paused.

“That was fun too,” I said, regretting my words as soon as I said them. 

I saw his face turn a little red, the first time I saw any shyness in him at all. My stomach tightened, but I pretended like it had just been a normal thing to say. I felt his body shift next to me. And I felt the tension sharpen in my head.

I wondered if I was feeling curious or what, but I couldn’t get Max and the thoughts of his body out of my head. The proximity with him was taking me right back to the night before. I pictured that he had been in the same room as me while we banged those girls, and my dick throbbed in my shorts, matching his own raging boner next to me. I pictured what he must have looked like as he pounded her, his butt tightening rhythmically as his body clapped against hers. I pictured us sharing the same girl, as he towered over both of us. I pictured feeling his dick rub against mine. I wasn’t even thinking about the girl anymore.

I was only thinking about Max.

Fear entered my brain for the first time, not of being gay, but of fucking up whatever this thing was that was developing between us. Still I decided to lean into whatever felt right in the moment, since it hadn’t failed me yet.

“Fuck,” Max said gesturing to the screen as something happened in the game, snapping me out of my trance.

We talked about nothing for a while while we continued playing video games, our bodies slowly turning toward each other under the blanket. I glanced down a few times, inadvertently seeing his continuing boner. I even saw it twitch through the blanket.

I couldn’t help but touch myself a bit as my boner refused to go away. Just adjusting it and tucking into my waistband felt good, and I did that a few times while Max pretended not to notice. I was nervous and I was trying to pretend I didn’t know why. 

We were eventually pressed so tightly together that I felt his breath mixing with mine. Our body heat became a bit too much and I lifted up the blanket once to let some cool air flow in. I saw the top of his dick sticking out of his shorts, a drop of pre-cum on the tip.

My eyes went straight to it. And when I looked, he made it flex, pulling his waistband up from his body for a beat. I froze for a second, then my body took over.

I reached out and grabbed it.

He just sighed. "Ok, you’ve got sixty seconds. Go."

My eyes lit up like it was Christmas already. It took me a second to realize he was accepting my challenge that I could get him off in under a minute. I started rubbing him like my life depended on it. I felt him hard as steel under my palm, throbbing in my hands, blood rushing into my rod in my fist as I stroked him in a blur. The squishy wetness as his pre-cum coated his shaft was a constant sound.

“You’re so hard,” I said.

He couldn’t speak right as his body spasmed next to me. He just muttered something like, “umm guh yeah ung… gum.”

I leaned close and I could smell the musk coming off of him. After a day of skating, the boy sweat that should’ve been disgusting was just enhancing the most intense sexual event of my life, and I had literally lost my virginity the night before. He moved his hips forward and backward, like he was dancing almost. His body had such a natural sex rhythm compared to mine. He throbbed and pulsed, and released a strange, vocal, “umm GUH” sound, almost like a cough. It had only been maybe twenty seconds, but I could tell I was going to win this bet.

“Are you gonna—” I started, just as he sent a blast of white goo directly onto my forehead. I held his dick tight, refusing to let go as he continued to pulse. I aimed him at his own stomach as he put up his hands to block the continued squirts, his hips thrusting and his abs tensing.

“Fuck, dude,” I said, shocked as he continued releasing juice onto his body and my hand. “That’s so much.”

“Yeah,” he said when the pulsing slowed. His face showed a sense of relief. “That was crazy.”

“I told you it would work,” I said.

“That was…” he started, trying to argue, then shrugged. “Yeah… you’re right.”

“I just,” he started again, pausing like he was trying to find the words, “I wonder why it only happened when you jerked me off, and not her…?”