High School Jerk

Amazing things happen after a few years go by. The
people you used to hate change, as in this particular
case that happen to me not long ago. It was a guy I used
to know in high school who was a complete jerk. We never
spoke much, but we played soccer together on the school
team, and sometimes it was impossible to avoid him. But
he changed.

I was in the Boston's Sporting Goods store, looking
through the jogging shorts on the rack, trying to find a
pair in my size. The 38s were mingled in with the 36s
and 40s, and rummaging through was tedious. But I
eventually found my size, with the color I wanted, and
was holding them up to look at them when I heard a voice
behind me call my name.

"Marty? Marty Bates, is that you?"

I turned, and behind the rack of tank tops stood a guy I
knew in high school, Jake Plummer. He was one of the
second stringers on the soccer team with me, and he was
a jerk. As I watched him walk toward me to talk with me,
I remembered the one scene during our high school days
as seniors with him that I'll never forget.

I had forgotten something in my locker after practice
and was returning for it. I thought I'd be the only one
there, but I heard the shower running. I peeked around
the corner of the wall to see who it was, and it was
Jake. Obviously he stayed a little late to work on some
of his dribbling skills, and was taking a shower. I
didn't want to say hello because he was a dick and I
didn't like him very much.

Just as I was about to quietly turn away, I saw him
reach for his penis and start to play with it. His torso
was lathered up with soap, so I thought he was just
washing himself, but he began playing with his limp
penis in his fingers.

I stood quietly behind the wall, watching him play with
himself, his penis growing larger as the lather thicken
around his fingering. His dick quickly hardened with the
sudsy stroking, and he began to masturbate in the

The splatter of the water against the tiles echoed
through the shower, drowning out some of Jake's moaning,
but I could still hear him as I watched. He slowly
stroked himself, working his hand up and down his hard

I imagined he wanted to enjoy being alone in the shower
jerking off because his hand moved at a slow steady
pace. I don't know if he thought he wouldn't get caught
or didn't care if he got caught masturbating the shower,
but he was intent on enjoying himself and his hard dick.

I watched him for about five minutes, his hand never
quickening, but never stopping either, as he jerked off.
I felt my own dick getting hard and straining against my
pants, but didn't do anything for fear of letting him
know I was watching.

As he stroked, the lather from the soap built up, and
large dollups of suds plopped loudly on the floor and
washed away in the water. He began to moan a little
loader as his masturbating went on.

Finally, his body began to convulse as he neared orgasm.
Still with his hand moving at a slow steady stroke, his
orgasm swept through him and his semen shot from his
dick, through the air and landing in the water on the
floor, only to be swept away in the water.

I continued to watch as he came, looking at the semen
spurt into the water, and his manipulations growing less
and less as his penis began to grow limp. Then as
quietly as I could, I left the locker room without
picking up whatever it was I came back for, but leaving
with a memory I would never forget.

"Well, Marty, it's been a few years, hasn't it?" Jake
asked, sticking out his hand for a handshake.

I took it, shaking it, and saying, "Since high school."

We talked for a bit, and he told me he left the city for
a job elsewhere, but was back on business. I told him
about myself, but he didn't seem that interested in my
life. As we were about to say our good-byes, he said
that we should get together for drinks tonight at the
hotel bar. Without thinking it over, I quickly said yes,
and we decided to meet at eight.

I arrived about 15 minutes after, hoping he wouldn't be
there, but he was still waiting, nursing a drink in
front of him. He looked up as saw me as I walked toward
the table and sat down. We greeted each other, I ordered
a drink and we talked.

Over the years he lost his attitude and I was enjoying
our conversation. It mostly revolved around our high
school days and the girls we liked then. He did most of
the talking about the girls because I never had one when
I was in high school, but I listened, because I remember
the girls he talked about and how good-looking they

After a few drinks I was starting to feel light-headed,
and all of a sudden I found myself talking about the
time I saw him in the shower.

"You know I saw you jerking off in the shower after
practice one day," I said.

"Really? You should have said something or joined me,"
he said matter-of-factly. "Lot of us guys used to do it
all the time. I guess you just left too early."

"Guess so."

He smirked and took a sip of his drink. "So, you got me
jerking off."

We chuckled a little, then we went silent.

"Hey, you want to do it now?" he asked, poking at the
ice in his drink with his straw.

"Do what now?" Although I probably knew what he meant.

"Well, we can go up to my room and jerk off together,"
he explained. "There's a liquor store down the street; I
can go pick up a bottle or two and we can jerk off in my
room. What'dya say?"

"I don't know, I've never..."

"There's always a first time. That's all we'll do, watch
each other jerk off. Hey, here's my room key. Go up to
it, get undressed and I'll go get some booze. We can get
drunk and jerk off."

I stared down into my drink, swirling the liquid,
listening to the ice clink against the side of the
glass. Finally, I shrugged and said, "Sure, why not."

"Great, go up to the room and I'll be there in about 20
minutes." As he left the bar I watched him go, downed
the rest of my drink and left the bar myself, passing
through the lobby to the elevators, and going up the
third floor.

His room was just three doors down from the elevator,
and I unlocked it and went in. The room was still tidy,
except one of the beds was wrinkled up from where he
sat. Then I got undressed and sat on the bed and watched
television until he returned.

It was about twenty minutes when I heard the knock on
the door and he saying it was him and to let him in. I
got up and opened the door, standing behind it to hide
my nudity from anyone who might be in the hall. He
stepped passed me into the room and I closed the door.
He looked at me and remarked that he was glad to see me
already naked, then put the bag down on the table and
took out two bottles of alcohol, one rum and one

He excused himself then went to the bathroom to undress
and urinate while I opened the rum and took a swig. I
returned to the bed where I sat earlier and put the
bottle on the table next to the bed, spread my legs
slightly apart so I could start playing with myself when
Jake got out of the bathroom.

In a few minutes I heard the bathroom door open and Jake
stepping out, naked as I was.

"Sorry, but I don't have the lube, but here's some baby
oil," he said, throwing me a small bottle of it, which
was already half empty.

"I see you've already used most of it," I said, smiling.

He picked up the bottle of whiskey, opened it and drank,
then sat on the other bed opposite me, opening his legs
too. He still had a trim body but with the weight a guy
normally puts on as he grew older. But neither of us had
a large gut, and our dicks were about the same size. His
balls were a little larger and saggier than mine and
would probably bounce around more while he stroked his

"Well, what're you waiting for, lube up and start
stroking," he said, taking another swallow of whiskey.

I opened the oil and dripped some on my hand and began
working it into my limp penis, letting Jake watch me
play with my dick to get it hard. My dick began to grow
harder, standing erect between my legs. Then I liberally
dripped some more oil onto my hand and passed him the
bottle so he could lube up his dick. I worked the oil
into my dick, hearing the oil squish between my hard
dick and hand and fingers as I moved my hand up and down
the now hard shaft of my dick.

Jake did the same, oiling up his limp dick and playing
with it to get it hard enough to start stroking in
earnest. It didn't take long for him to get hard. In its
erect position, his dick was a little longer than mine,
but not much though, and just as round.

I could tell he really got into stroking his dick,
because he was already making oh-ing and aw-ing noised
as he worked his shaft and fingered its oily head. And I
watched him, his legs spread, his dick hard, his hand
gliding over the oily shaft. He watched me too, my hand
sliding up and down my own hard dick, thumbing the head.

"I like to jerk off at least an hour, Marty," he said,
"so take it slow."

"Yeah," I replied, "I've done it for than long a couple
times too."

"It feels too good having my hard dick in my hand and
stroking it to come quickly. I really like to beat off
like this. And having you watch me while I watch you,
that's really hot," he said, playing with his erection.

"It's my first time doing this with another guy," I
admitted, "except for watching you in the shower way
back when."

"Watching another guy jerk off is great, isn't it? I
mean, look at this," he said, directing my gaze between
his open legs as his hand glided up and down his oily

"Yup," I agreed, watching him, and spreading my legs
too, allowing him to enjoy seeing me with my dick in my

For about the next two hours we jerked off together,
watching each other, talking about how good masturbation
feels, remembering the girls in high school that we
wanted to fuck. About three times during that two hours
we let our dicks go limp, watching them shrink, then
fingering them again and getting them hard, occasionally
adding more oil.

Finally, I was beginning to feel the increasing tension
in my crotch that all this stroking was doing, and told
Jake that it was time shoot my load. I think he was
feeling the same thing, because he quickly agreed.

Sitting across from each other on the separate beds, we
spread our legs for each other, giving up all modesty.
Slowly we worked our hand in unison up and down our own
hard dicks, the oil making squishing sound.

"Jerk yourself," Jake urged, "show me how a guy gets
himself off."

"Work it," I returned, "feel the burn of your hard

Our hands moved faster, but it didn't take but two or
three more strokes before we both went off.
Simultaneously we came, shoot our loads on our own
bodies, the sperm squirting all the way up to our necks
and chests, spilling over our stomachs and running down
our oily hands.

Although it was two men masturbating, the orgasm was as
if there were only one man stroking one dick which
spurted the white fluid over one torso. I could feel him
shutter as he came, and I'm sure he could feel my
quaking as well. It was a few minutes before we said
anything, both of us breathing heavily, still stroking
our oily dicks, watching each other still fingering

After that night Jake and I got together whenever he
came back into town, which was about once a month. He
was here during a three-day weekend once and all we did
those three days as walk around my apartment with
nothing on, always playing with our dicks, masturbating
whenever we wanted to. It all seemed so natural.

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