It was just the floor, and—that dizzying tile pattern.
The school board must have been smoking some wicked bad ass fucked up shit when they picked this design. Maybe it was on purpose? Maybe the design nullified the natural born thinking process in the students and that enabled the faculty to implant chips and they were all being programmed to become submissive, obedient…. Charley finally forced his eyes away from those patterns and looked up.
They were almost swirling with an unnamed storm that was brewing deep inside. Poor guy was riding on the tail of a mental tornado; he had to kind of admire him for opening up and being honest about what was going on inside his head.
He swallowed nervously, hoping nobody in the vicinity was picking up any of this conversation. The fact that his dick had already come up with an answer of its own. What the fuck was with that, anyway? Dillon Jamieson had just propositioned him and his dick was soaring to aching proportions. His dick already had an answer. Now, it was throbbing and twitching, nervously waiting for his brain to catch up and get on the same page.
A teenager talking about sex was going to go into the bone zone no matter what. Nature of the beast. Dillon had just…. Certainly never coming from Dillon Jamison. Little mice in the Science Lab…. Another thought suddenly came to mind. Was that it? Was Dillon coming out to him? Holy fuck a duck! That would set the grapevine ablaze if that was true and the buzz was that he came out. The much loved and admired Dillon Jamison?
Not in the least. Not to him, anyway.
It took faithfulness and sacrifice to achieve that mile marker. Isabel Dare. Pony Playermodel and NPC. Words: 3, Just a ported predator player model from gm Warning: This word short story contains explicit descriptions of tentacle sex, multiple orgasms, and an alien plant with an impregnation fetish.
Dillon was his friend. A very close friend. He loved the guy. He would stand by him. He would defend him. He would support him. And, why him? Why come to him? Yeah, they were classmates, teammates … friends…. Always had been.
Always would be. No matter what. Well, duh on that. Why not come to him? Dillon trusted him. Talk about being flattered. This was way beyond flattery, though. This was….
If it throbbed much longer it would start leaving a nice, shiny, juicy spot of evidence as to how excited it was by the whole idea. He reached down to slip a hand into his pocket—impromptu car key check—which was more of a chance to casually adjust his ever-growing problem; he hoped the whole time during the adjustment period that nobody would notice. Wait … just … one … second. Beyond the trust factor, anyway?
This … whatever the hell this was? Another quick survey. Final bell was at least 15 minutes ago. Enemy troops were dwindling now. There were still plenty of them around as they passed one way or the other but still—none of them were within hearing distance. Still no cyborgs.
No zombies. No tentacle creatures. Rhett and Cullen Lee were still behind those lockers…. What was up with that? Yeah, it was still safe. For now. Charley made another casual adjustment down below. An adjustment that did not go unnoticed by his dick. It throbbed against his knuckles. Throbbed, and—was that a whimper? Did dicks whimper? He squared his shoulders and steeled himself; he had to ask—even unsure as he was that he wanted to hear the answer. So much for my life as a Stealth Operative….
Deep breath. Back to Dillon. He had two lips. One above the other. One below the one above it.
They were moving. Dillon was saying something. No, of course not! How could you possibly be? They both nodded.
One knowing what only he and Chelsea knew. He nodded back and waited until Trey was beyond the hearing perimeter. Charley looked around, still a bit nervous about any of this convo being overhead. He exchanged silent jaw juts with Rhett Applegate who was standing about twenty-five feet away—looking about as much in panic mode as Dillon was right now.
His tee was tucked when he hauled Cullen Lee behind those lockers. It looked like Rhett was in the bone zone, too. Sure they did. Like this was a common conversation between high school males. Rhett took several deep breaths, ran his fingers through his hair, and then gazed up and down the corridor.
What was that about? Why did he haul him back behind the lockers? Where was Cullen Lee? Geez, Rhett was strangling the life out of the straps on his backpack. How did he get into this conversation anyway? He knew the answer to this one! The answer was coming. Almost there….