Aggression

I remember being asleep when it all started.

Then again, it started out innocently enough, him curled up in my bed, me sleeping on the floor quite comfortably in a mass of blankets. He had fallen asleep first, or so I thought, and sleep came easily to me as well; we had stayed up late and had no school the next day to be worried about with summer vacation.

The dreams I had were warped and uninteresting, at least what I can recall, though they split and melted as rough hands began to wake me back up.

I had one of those moments where your eyes just don't want to open-- you're still tired, half in dream, though something insistent is trying, and winning, to stir you. When my eyes finally did open all I could see was dark, though my slowly awoken nerves were only just recognizing hands tearing off my pajama pants and slender fingers wrapping around my cock.

My vision came to me slowly, while my mind did not, making out vague shapes in the dark only aided by the thin strips of orange street lamp through the shutters of my window. I looked down and I was half-stripped from the waist down, and there he was, eyes bright and body brilliant, naked.

My mouth couldn't form words.

I wanted to ask him just what he was doing, even though, vaguely, in the back of my only half-functioning brain, I knew; my best friend was giving me a hand job.

I shifted, and I think he knew I was awake, and even in the dark I could tell he was trembling. That didn't stop him though. His fingers were slick and warm and tight around my now half hard member, stroking me fast. Oversensitive and stupefied by sleep, I let him do it.

When he looked right into my eyes and rubbed his thumb across the head of my arousal, it sent shivers down my spine and made my brain go numb-- there was no way I could argue him, his hair still a mess, his shoulders hunched, lithe muscles working under summer-tanned skin. If there was any more light I might have seen the blush on his cheek or his own erection stark and needy between his skinny little legs.

I pushed my head back against the pillow, my voice groggy with a low moan, feeling wave after wave of this newly sexual pleasure washing over me-- it was my first time, after all, in a hand other than my own, a taste of, what I thought, sex must be like. I could only just hear his rough, panting breaths as he rubbed his damp palm up and down, the situation giving me little time to be embarrassed by the noises I was making or my nudity.

At some point I must have shut my eyes, and the time passed by quickly. It didn't take long for me to nearly reach completion, my fingers wound up in the blankets, in my own shirt, breath fast and hips pumping. I wanted to cry when his hand stopped.

It was ridiculous for me to expect anything, really, but when I opened my eyes I was about to yell at him, tell him to finish what he had started.

I opened my eyes to see him crawling over on top of me, legs spread and hand guiding my cock toward him.

And it was something I would never forget; his eyes shut, his fingers loose and assuring as they moved me just there, his bony hips squirming slightly before he was forcing me inside.

I know I moaned louder than I ever should. My parents were home, after all, but my mind had forgotten anything else in the universe for his tight, hot, slick, clenching body, suddenly all around me as he sunk down, aided only by gravity and tense muscles.

He treated it as if it was so easy, me inside him completely, his hands on my chest and his mouth letting out a soft sigh of relief, and before I knew it he was raising up on his knees.

There was one moment of panic that flashed through my over-stimulated mind, suddenly worried that he was pulling away, but before the small sound of protest even raised up in my throat he was pushing back down, quickly, hard enough to bruise us both, and any complaint I might have had turned into a matured groan of pleasure.

It all went by like a blur again, my body only registering small, almost insignificant things-- his nails digging lightly into my skin, a drip of hot warmth from his cock onto my stomach, his hair, carelessly overgrown, brushing against my neck as he tensed up and came all over me. And I can only ever dream now of just how tight he had gotten as he still rode me then, even harder, until I was clutching at him with all my strength and pushing up, in, coming harder and more spectacularly than I ever had, or ever would.

I didn't even realize we just had sex until it was already over.

END