Gloryhole With My Friend 06

Everyone in this story is 18+ and fully consenting.  

Chapter 6: Hot Tub Jets

We straightened up, checked the path again, and walked out inconspicuously. It was everything I had needed. The static in my head dialed down. I felt normal for the first time in days. I went home lighter. For a while I didn’t think about anything, and Charlie’s weird energy didn’t get to me at all. It was like a meditative state. I jerked off in bed that night happily, then went for a second round. Life was good again.

But two days later, I had another dream, something loosely related to Charlie telling me to take a shower with him. I woke up to Charlie's actual dick in my doorway. For a second I thought I was still dreaming. My eyes went wide. He was standing there with his hands on the door frame, his big hog hanging over his balls. He had trimmed his pubes. I hated that I recognized that.

"Hey," he said, "Mom says we have to clean the pool again."

I raised my hands like what the fuck is going on. "Okay?"

He smirked and walked off.

I texted Rugger, and as a good friend, he told me to come right over.

I blew him in his basement like my life depended on it. I guess I was getting too good at this, because he came too quickly, and I refused to let him out of my mouth. He pressed my head away but I held on until he acquiesced and let me get him hard again. I got a good fifteen more minutes out of sucking before he blew his load again in my throat. I sat back on my heels and pulled out my own dick, to wank while I watched his wet cock rest on his thigh. I finished in seconds, blowing a load up to my chin and neck. I sat there catching my breath as he pulled up his pants.

"That'll do for now," I said.

"Yeah, I would hope so," he said with a chuckle.

At first, taking care of Rugger took the edge off. But after a couple weeks, Charlie's antics had escalated into a daily torture. I saw his long cock swaying more often than I looked at my own. I even saw it hard sometimes, especially in the mornings on his way to the bathroom. I saw his tight little bubble butt bouncing down the hall every day, and I could never stop myself from looking. He knew exactly what he was doing, and Rugger became a crutch for me.

He and I fell into a rhythm. After a quick text, I'd show up and head to his room or basement, and get to work. We kept it clean and fast, just taking my daily medecine. He would brace a hand on the wall or the back of a chair and I would settle in, breathe through it, focus on the pace. He would load up some porn and I would rough up my own throat using his cock until I got the load I needed. Sometimes I needed it right after he had jerked off. Those times were actually my favorite, because I got to use him longer and feel him get hard in my throat.

When he was pressed for time, I let him hold my head and go rough on me as much as he wanted, in order to finish faster. I would hold his hips, feel the muscle tighten under my palms, and pull him deeper into me. I usually didn’t even touch myself. The cock in my mouth and the load in my stomach were enough to quiet the noise in my head.

It became our routine for a bit. After a run. Before a movie. Sometimes at my house if we was over. Once in his parents' car, because there were too many people in his house to get any inconspicuous privacy. I learned his body, the way his breathing shifted, the way his legs tensed when he liked something, and when he was about to finish. He learned mine, the way I tapped twice on his thigh when I needed him to ease up and let me breathe, and the way I tugged him closer when I wanted him to keep going. We got efficient. No drama. We didn't even talk about it much, we just did it more and more often with each passing week. I would head to the bathroom afterward every time, rinse my mouth, splash water on my face, and feel normal for hours after. It felt like I had finally found a switch I could flip when the mental static got loud.

Then the mental static crept back. Occasionally blowing him turned into every day. The craving woke up with me and followed me around. Sucking off Rugger's fat cock only pushed it away for a while at a time. I started catching myself halfway to the memory of the bathroom with Charlie, his cock in my throat, his cum in my mouth, giggles he made and his labored breathing when he got close.

I carried equal parts shame and curiosity about Charlie’s energy. The friendly nudges and casual nudity messed with my head. Sometimes I told myself I was imagining it, but most of the time it felt like bait. I started to feel like I wanted clarity, not another secret, but I couldn't bring myself to talk to him about it again. The first time had been hard enough after that time we watched the baseball game. The scariest thought was that he might actually want to push it further with me. That idea lit me up and shut me down at the same time. I had to keep reminding myself that wanting to understand my reaction didn’t mean I had to act on it.

—[]—

One night, Charlie poked his head into my room while I was playing on my phone. I was almost angry at him just for saying hi, but his face was sweet and not mischievous. And he wasn't naked, wearing his short swim trunks, so I just looked at him and said, "What's up?"

"You wanna hit the jacuzzi?" he asked. His eyes were a little hopeful. It seemed almost like a peace offering, from his unspoken torment over the recent weeks, but I sensed a Trojan horse. 

"It’s late," I said, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah, but the water’s perfect," he shot back, already tugging the covers off my bedding. "C’mon, ten minutes. I hate going in alone."

I hesitated, exhaled, then shrugged. "Alright."

The hot tub was already warmed up when we got out there. Steam rolled off the water and the patio lights were low. He slid in first with a splash and leaned his head back. “God, this feels good,” he muttered. I followed him in, sitting on the opposite side of the hot tub.

"Five feet apart 'cause they're not gay," he said, making me smile, then laugh. We started laughing together really hard, and I suddenly felt at peace with Charlie again.

Our laughter quieted and the jets hummed between us.

"Feels like we actually did work today," I said.

"Yeah," he smirked. "Pool’s cleaner than it’s been all summer. We should charge Mom."

I laughed. "She’d make us split it with Dad."

He grinned and stretched his arms along the rim. "Still worth a shot."

We kept it small talk at first, pool chemicals, recent sports, what to watch later.

We both slowly sank deeper until the jets hit our shoulders. He shut his eyes for a second, relaxed, then glanced at me. Friendly. Easy.

Charlie leaned back and grinned. “You ever use these jets for more than just 'chillin'?” He emphasized the last word, implying air quotes. 

I raised an eyebrow. “You mean...?”

He smirked. “I’ve been jerking off with these since forever. Like, since I first started. Strongest pressure in the house.” He chuckled at his own line.

I rolled my eyes but admitted, “Yeah, I’ve done it too.”

After a brief pause, I added, "hundreds of times."

We laughed together, and I almost choked on a little jacuzzi water.

“Of course you have,” he said, chuckling. Then, without even pausing, he shifted in the water. He angled himself toward one of the jets, stretching his legs out until I realized I could see his skin from neck to toe, even through the bubbles. He had taken off his trunks. My stomach flipped. He didn’t acknowledge it at all, just kept talking about random stuff like, while at the same time edging closer and closer to the blast of bubbles.

I sat frozen, trying not to stare but failing. His casual tone made it even crazier. He was talking about nothing, but I was watching his body. He wanted me to see, but wouldn't say anything. I swallowed hard.

We kept talking while he shifted into it, acting like nothing was out of the ordinary. He started to exaggerate little moans, testing me, daring me to react. “Damn, the jets are strong,” he said with a grin, then let out another low grunt that was way too much to be casual. He laughed under his breath like he knew exactly what he was doing.

I stared at him, trying to act normal. I couldn't even really participate in the conversation, and my dick was already straining against my trunks.

He shrugged, eyes half closed, and tilted his head back. He didn’t stop. He even tossed in a few comments about how good the pressure was, subtle but obvious enough that he wanted me to hear it. It felt like he was playing some psychological game, pushing the boundary just far enough to make me sit there and deal with it.

A month prior I would have gotten the fuck out of there and called him a fucking weirdo, but after everything that happened, it was like he had a hold on me. My mind couldn't find a good reason to leave. My erection was threating to burst out of my trunks, and I just sat there, chatting with him, pretending he wasn't about to nut right in front of me.

I watched him get closer, his rhythm against the jet turning steady, his shoulders tensing up. He didn’t try to hide it at all. Little grunts slipped out of him, each one sharper than the last. The bubbles shifted and I saw the top of his round ass breaking the surface as he pressed himself into the stream. His hands gripped the rim of the hot tub and his head tilted back. Then his whole body jerked once, and he let out a long breath like he’d been holding it forever. Water splashed up against my chest from the force of him pushing forward. He finally sat back and relaxed, chest rising and falling, and smirked at me. “I love jets,” he said, totally casual, like he hadn’t just gotten off right in front of me.

"I know," I said, "It's the best feeling in the world," keeping the conversation ambiguous enough.

"There are some things that are better," he said, suggestively. His tone sounded like he had winked at me.

"I love that it's all under the water," he said, "It's almost better when you can't see what's making you feel good," he said, looking me in the eye.

My face turned red. He's referring to the thing, the thing we're not supposed to ever talk about. The thing that happened.

"I’ve got this face mask I use at night," he said casually, like he was switching subjects, leaning back again. "Helps with my mewing grind, believe it or not, and it blocks out all the light."

I raised an eyebrow. "You actually sleep in that?"

"Yeah," he nodded, like it was nothing. "I wear it every night."

Then he stood up out of the jacuzzi, butt naked, flashing his muscular little ass to me. He grabbed a towel and dried himself off without saying a word, casually rubbing down his package as it flopped around in front of me.

As he disappeared into the house, I let out a long sigh.

Fuck