In the Closet

In the Closet


Thomas lived across the road from me. Aside from having been in the same grade, we grew up together. It was not uncommon to ride our bikes all day, or throw rocks at fish and frogs in the creek, or simply looked for mischief. Our greatest delight was destroying things; lawn mowers, lawn chairs or picnic tables, or anything that to us had little or no value. But eventually, our conversations would revolve around to girls. Hot girls. Hot girls with tits and asses that you could die for. We were two horny young guys just out of high school with a lot to experience.


Sometimes I stayed at Thomas' house, but most nights, he slept over at mine. We stayed up late watching movies or playing video games and describing the female encounter we had had that day. Neither of us had a true girlfriend, except for the ones we ogled over and lusted for on a daily basis.


It had been hot and steamy all day, and we had been baling hay for a neighbor up the road, so I was damn near exhausted when Thomas came over. We sat in the family room for awhile, drinking some sweet tea when I decided I really needed a shower. Thomas said, "ok" and went back to watching something on tv.


The water felt great! Washing the dirt and sweat off of my very average body is what I needed to relax. I'm not bulky, but I have some muscle, but it isn't very prominent with my 5'11" frame and size 14 foot. Thomas on the other hand is shorter, tanner, and a little bulky. But he can run fast and throw a hay bale farther than anyone I know.


I finished my shower, drying off with a big beige towel I seemed to always choose. I could depend on it being so soft and comfortable and somehow finished the showering chore off nicely. I grabbed a couples sodas and went to my room. Dad wasn't home as usual. He found work with neighbors working ground or planting during season, or turning wrenches when it wasn't fit to be in the field. Mom left a few years ago with someone she liked better than us, leaving Dad, me and my sister to fend for ourselves. I entered my room and plopped down on the bed. Thomas was laying on the futon watching some racing shit on tv, wearing just his boxers. and guzzling the pop I had just handed him.


"Damn! you really put that shit away! That's the last one!" I kidded with him.


Thomas smirked and took another drink looking at me from the corner of his eye. 


"Guess who I saw today?" he blurted out. "Come on...guess!"


"Shit! How the hell would I know who you saw?" I retorted. "Your grandma?"


"Ha ha ha," Thomas laughed. "No, Emma. You know. Emma from town?"


I paused a minute. Yeah, Emma. She lived in a town nearby and could make a whole room go silent when she walked in. Blonde hair, bright white teeth, tan, and all the curves in the right places. She hadn't attended our school, but there were rumors of things she had done, and things she could do that set a guy's mind racing and caused him not to be able to think straight for quite a while. 


"Yeah, I know her", I said slowly, creating a picture of her in denim shorts and a white tank top . Where did you see her?"


"She was in the store when I went to get new gloves this morning" Thomas almost whispered, reliving the moment. "She was wearing these really short shorts. Her ass cheeks were hanging out! Damn she's hot!"


"She's not as hot as Bailey. Oh my God!! those tits! I would love to fuck the shit out of her and watch those tits bouncing back and forth!" I answered, moving my hips on the bed, almost spilling my drink.


We both laughed hysterically, each picturing our hot dream girl for a moment.


"You know who's really smokin' hot? I mean, you know, like hot as fuck?" Thomas asked, turning his head and looking in my direction. "Your sister!"


"Fuck you!! I yelled. "Oh God, that's sick". 


We both broke out laughing and turned our attention to the tv. Thomas kept giggling and snickering. I tried to figure out what was so funny. It sure wasn't the movie. There he did it again.


"What the hell are you laughing at?" I almost scolded him.


"Nothing", Thomas giggled. 


Another hour went by and I turned the tv off with the remote, got up off the bed and turned out the light. It didn't take us long to fall asleep. Baling and handling hay is hard work, and there was more to do tomorrow.


I'm not sure why, but I woke up a short time later and heard a noise. I listened. It wasn't snoring. I held my breath and listened hard, trying not to move. There it was again. It was a sound I had heard before, but I couldn't tell where it was coming from.


The security light on the barn somewhat lit up my window, filtered by the mini blind hanging on a slant from a failed basketball dunk into the trash can. Through the dim light I could see my closet door was open and determined that that was the source of the sound. I listened harder. Then my heart stopped. I realized what the sound was.


The familiar slap, slap, slap, slap and heavy breathing. I lifted my head and looked toward the closet. Yes, the door was open and as I squinted my eyes, I could make out the silhouette of a head and broad shoulders on a body kneeling down on the floor. I continued to listen as I watched.


Suddenly, I got the feeling in my gut. Not a bad feeling, but a churning urge from down deep. My hand slid down inside my bed pants and I realized I was getting hard. My dick was twice it's normal length and my balls were rolling back and forth inside my bag like they were playing ping pong. Then it dawned on me what was happening. Thomas was jerking off in my closet. 


As I continued to listen, I could distinguish his breathing; almost panting, mixed in with the steady slap, slap, slap of his hand hitting his body. His rhythm quickened and I saw his outline adjust his position slightly. But I still couldn't imagine what he was doing, or why in my closet?


My hand encircled my hard dick, squeezing gently and holding it in place as I listened to his steady jerk. His breath became hard gasps as he got closer to coming. For some strange reason, I felt like I should jerk too. It's a damn shame to waste a boner, especially in your own bed. 


Just about then, he stopped. I watched him stand and quickly return to the futon and slide under the sheet. I continued to lay there in silence, holding my dick and running everything through my head. It wasn't long until Thomas was asleep. His breathing was slow and steady, and he had rolled over, turning away from me. 


I rolled over as well in my own bed. Still holding my dick and replaying what I saw and what I heard over and over again in my head. Before I knew it, I was asleep and dreaming of Bailey.

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