The Next Morning

You wake up in the evening to find the TV on and Bob snoring in the loveseat across the room. You notice a pillow under your head and a blanket covering your naked body. Bob must have brought them down for you. Awwww, he really does care!

As silently as you can, you try to get up, fighting the burning pain coming from your bowels. Why do the good things in life always hurt? You hobble over to the kitchen where you pour yourself a whole glass of Jack Daniels. Much better.

Staggering back, you debate whether you should wake Bob, but can't bring yourself to do it. You leave through the back door, hoping your engine doesn't wake him.

"Are you drunk?!" Your mother asks as she opens the door.

You mumble something unintelligible as you push your way past her.

"Hey! Answer me young man! If I see you driving drunk one more time, I don't know what I'll do!"

The next morning you're feeling much better. Painlessly, you take your breakfast up to your room trying not to wake your mother. You don't want to listen to all her shit again.

Just as you're about to head out you get a call from Bob.

"Yo dude, how's it hanging?"

"What's up?"

"Listen, there's a change of plans. Dad just called, said they're coming home in two days. I've got something I want to do. I'll come pick you up in an hour."

It takes some time before you process what this means. If his parents are home, you won't be able to fuck, much less continue the game together. And your mom is always home, so you don't have that option either. Disappointed, you mope around your room for an hour, leaving when you hear Bob pulling up into your drive way.

"Hey, so I guess today is the last game we can play?" You ask as you shake hands.

"Yeah, I don't think we're even going to be able to play today. I told my dad I would fix the porch in the backyard and even build a little something. I've been putting it off for so long, I didn't think they were going to be coming back so soon. Actually, I'm thinking about having a little party tomorrow while we still can. But yeah, I don't know about today, I was hoping you'd come and help me with the work. If you're not still hurting," He adds with a wink as he pulls out.

"Yeah, 'course, no problem. Where we headed?"

"Over to Jack's work at Lime St. He worked out a deal with his boss to sell us some wood." Jack was a friend of Bob's who worked construction part time during the summer.

You spend the rest of the ride listening to the new Annihilator album, not really in the mood for talking. You were really enjoying your time with Bob. Is it all over?

Twenty minutes later you pull up to the construction site on Lime St. Jack comes out to greet you and offers to lead you in.

"You go ahead," You tell Bob. "I'll wait by the car," You want some time to yourself.

You watch your friend's backside as he walks away, laughing at a joke Jack made. When they enter the office, you stick your hands in your pockets and wait for them to make the deal. You think about Bob and about the excellent summer you spent together. About all the pleasure the two of you shared, indulging in your forbidden fantasies. You don't want it to end, and you decide that you'll do everything possible to make sure it doesn't.

You find yourself with a hard-on once again, and try to readjust yourself, but it's no use - there's a decently sized bulge running down your left pant. For the first time now, you notice all the stray glances you're getting from the other workers. Most are shirtless, with huge muscles as they pound out their work. Every glance seems to be judging you. Do they see my boner, you worry.

Wanting to hide, you try to get back in the car but Bob locked the door. The glances are getting more frequent now. Awkwardly, trying to be cool, you fish out a smoke and light up, sitting down on the hood. You know Bob doesn't like it when you do that, but he can't see you now.

Still, you're acutely aware of every look you get. There, on the far end of the site, is a heavily muscled worker, around forty years old, trying to get your attention. When you make eye contact, he motions you over.

You don't know what you should do. On the one hand, anything would beat all this awkward attention you're getting, but on the other hand, he probably wants something from you, and the shy part of you is saying it would rather stay here.