The Best It Could Be
The first time I saw him was 15 months ago and not a minute sooner. I knew from my first look at his sparkling blue eyes that shone like the ocean's first wave at dawn that I was meant to be with him. But as I was too shy to do anything with another person, I tried for months without success to muster up enough courage to talk. But luckily I found myself paired up with him for a brief group project. I was able to talk with ease after the first hello, and we quickly discovered much we had in common.
From there we hit it off very well and started eating lunch together. He was still oblivious of my feelings for him, as I was still to shy to tell him. I kept telling myself I'd bring it up when the topic pops up, but then one day came where it did pop up. I was unable to bring it up and after beating myself up for it for what seemed like forever, I accepted that unless I change soon, I would see him one day in the arms of another man (or even woman, as I said earlier I never brought it up).
As we continued to bond closer and closer, I had progressively more and more intense dreams about him. It was driving me to the point of insanity, and I could no longer take it. I had to either get an opprotunity to tell him or just run off and try to forget about it. As much as I wanted an opprotunity, it was too close to summer and I had to choose the latter. My only phone had broke at the start of my travels, and I couldn't talk to him for two months. Two long, dreadful months I could only wait and hope. It was the most soberingly frightenging wondering what had happened, and I nearly cut myself on not just one occasion.
After what felt like many lifetimes over, the summer was finally ending, and I was releived to see he was still open. I was extremely determined to casually bring the subject over to his sexuality, but to no avail. He just kept changing it right back. Then I began to consider if he was like me this whole time, longing for me to bring it up but then being too nervous and quickly changing it away. Looking at his past interaction, I quickly dismissed this theory as he has always been the friendly type who felt comfortable talking about anything.
For the next three months, that would be the basis of our conversations. It was so frustrating that after a year of trying to muster up the courage to bring it up, he was the one now changing the subject. I felt like I was practically blurting out my feelings but he was just sticking his fingers in his ears and yelling "la la la la" like an immature kid. But then the yearly school trip came, and we paired up as roommates. Now being in 9th grade, we were seen as "mature" and so the trip was to an art gallery with numerous male sculptures, so it could easily be brought up. It was the perfect chance to bring it up. I was exited like the schoolgirl I oh-so-desperatly wanted him to plow me like.
Then, the day came atlast. As we boared the bus, I couldn't wait to get there. It was an overnight trip, but even though the crampt seats were the most uncomfortable I can remember, I slept like a baby with the thoughts of tomorrow. In the middle of the night he woke up complaining that the lights from the cars on the other side of the street and asked if he could sleep next to me. I of course agreed to it, and then resumed my pleasant dreaming. When we arrived in the morning, we woke at the same time, and I had my arms around him with a mess in my pants. Even though this could be a good time to tell him, I hid it knowing there would be more, less awkward chances to bring it up. By the times everything was ready in our room, the first day of activities had been cancelled because it had snowed. While most groups went outside to play, he insisted that we shower first.
He took the first one, and I took the time to look at the weather and I saw that it would snow the rest of the trip. I was distressed that the chance would never actually come up, but my thought train was inturrupted when I heard him masturbating in the shower. I could not take it anymore and dropped my pants right then and there to masturbate to it myself, but it was not enough. I decided to knock on the door asking if I could use the bathroom and that I couldn't hold it to go in the lobby as the elevator was out of order and we were on the top floor. He reluctantly agreed, and the very moment he opened the door I jumped on his hot body, being barely covered by what must've been the smallest of towels.
I was licking his face as a dog and I felt him hardern up as our chests and penises were being pressed together as the steamy water made us slip back apart ever so smoothly. It was a blessing that nothing had ever matched or even came close to. Every time I blunk I could feel all the pleasure flowing into my head quicker than any river, and the overwhelming emotions turned me into jelly. I was a slave to what those emotions were telling and in no time I found myself with my mouth over his succulent cock, a second wave of overwhelming emotions flooded my head. It was just pure joy as it felt like time had stopped completely. Then he put his over mine, and I instantaniously exploded that very moment all over his soft tounge, and then he exploded too. What I thought was the happiest I would ever be moments ago was quickly topped by this extravagating second, and it was indescribable.
We laid there for the good part of an hour, taking in all that what just happened. It was all so fast, and so much happend. Suddenly I snapped out of it when I found him nuzzled up against me, and I took comfort in the thought that everything worked out. And so then, using his bare chest as a pillow I slept. It was the best day of my life. It was the best it could be.