Derf, Part IV Standard disclaimer: If you are under 18 (or under 21, depending on the laws applicable where you reside), or if you are offended by graphic descriptions of male/male sex, READ NO FURTHER. Otherwise... enjoy! **** I didn't answer. I just stared him down. "Fine," he said, getting up and pushing past me. "Fine. You don't remember. You don't wanna talk about it. It never happened. Whatever. Look, you've got ten minutes to get rid of that," he pointed to my hardon. "Then we gotta get outta here, man. It's fuckin' freezing." He opened the door. "Ten minutes, dude. Make 'em count." He moved his hand in front of his crotch, imitating the motions of jerking off, and winked at me. Then he closed the door and went galumphing down the stairs. Funny, I thought, I don't feel cold. But to tell the truth I did, standing there in Derf's sweatpants, with my hair still wet. My roommate had just given me permission, and privacy, to jerk off. I dropped the sweats and started stroking my dick. Ten minutes? Hell, in about ten seconds I was shooting all over Derf's bed. Shit, I thought, what the hell is wrong with me? I wiped up what I could with the damp towel I had used to dry myself off. Now I had to wash it, too, before tomorrow morning. By the time Derf came back, I had on his sweats again (still no underwear -- I couldn't bring myself to put on any of the filthy stuff I had in my laundry basket) and about three layers of shirt. I couldn't find any socks that didn't stink to high heaven, either, so I had just put on my hightops & hoped for the best. Since we were going to the laundromat anyway, and since we still had three full days of vacation, I had thrown all my laundry that would fit into a duffel bag. He didn't say anything about the reason he had left. He just saw my duffel bag, crammed full, and said, "Good idea." He gathered up his own dirty laundry. We loaded up my car and headed out. After coming twice last night -- once the same way as this morning, and once from a wet dream -- and then again this morning, I felt sure that the lack of underwear wouldn't be a problem. The fact that it was about a bejillion degrees below zero outside clinched that fact. I could feel my balls shrink and shrivel as the cold air penetrated Derf's ancient sweats. We got to the laundromat & picked up Derf's blanket. I emptied my duffel bag indiscriminately into three machines. Derf sorted his, which I always found funny, but at least he never wound up with pink underwear. "Wait a sec," he said, and ducked into the restroom. When he came out, he threw his sweatshirt, t-shirt, socks and jockstrap into the washers. He stood there barefoot, in his football pants and open flannel shirt, holding his sneakers, grinning. "Might as well get as much of it done as I can." He sat down in the seat opposite mine leaned back, and crossed his arms behind his head. "God, it's good to feel warm," he said, arching his back. He closed his eyes. I picked up a magazine and pretended to read it. My head was spinning. Derf had only two articles of clothing on. There was nothing beneath the lacing on those football pants but his cock. Why the hell couldn't I think of anything else? I must be turning homo, I thought. I guessed I ought to be surprised, or appalled, but all I could think of was the outline of Derf's dick through his pants. I realized I was staring at his crotch. Derf's eyes were still closed. I looked around the laundromat. In the far corner there was a young mother with a three-year-old, and the old lady behind the counter was absorbed in some talk show on the TV. Nobody had seen me looking. Just then Derf's eyes popped open, and he winked at me again. "Hey," he said, lowering his voice, "we're both alfresco." Shit. That did it. I felt my cock twitch. "You pervert," I said, and threw the magazine at him. He just ducked and let it hit the floor. "So did you have fun while I was gone?" "Pervert." I tried to ignore him, tried to read another magazine, tried to think of anything but talking to him about masturbation. "You know, sometimes when I whack off, I like to try to suck on it." "Pervert." "Can't do it, though. I guess I'm just not limber enough. Pity, huh?" "Pervert." This was not working. I was half-hard now. I crossed my leg in front of me to hide the swelling. "I knew a guy in high school once. Took a bet. He actually could give himself blowjobs. Well, at least he could get the head of his stiffy in his mouth." "Pervert." "Man, the whole class lost that bet. Even the coach lost money." "Pervert." "Some of the guys, I guess they got him to suck them off. I never did. I didn't want anybody to think I was a fag or anything like that." "Pervert." Why the hell wouldn't he shut up? "How about you?" I looked up at him, my eyes wide. What was he asking me? "How about me, what?" "Can you suck yourself off?" "Hell no. Pervert." He grinned. "You've tried, then." "Pervert." "Man, it's cool, I think every guy with a dick has tried it at least once. Me, I keep trying. I usually can get within about an inch of the tip. Can't get any closer, though, not without help." "Pervert." "Not that I ever got help with it. But I bet if somebody would, you know, like help push me in a little closer, I could do it." "Pervert." "Not, like, fag stuff, you know? Just a little helping hand. I mean, I know I've been horny as hell since we moved in together." "Pervert." "Don't get me wrong, it's just that I never have a private minute anymore. Same with you, I bet. I mean, I can see why you had such a hardon this morning." "Pervert." Not just this morning, I was thinking. I had long since lowered the magazine to conceal my crotch. Now I had reached the last page, I wasn't sure what to do next. I looked up at Derf. The lacing on his football pants was loose, and I could see the head of his cock poking up behind the laces. He was obviously hard, too. The old lady at the counter was still glued to the talk show. The mother and her kid had left at some point; I hadn't seen them go. "Now me," he said, as if he hadn't noticed me glancing at his crotch, "when I get horny, I like to do something about it. We have a break in Film class, I always go and whack off in the john. But hey, Monday-Wednesday-Friday is hardly enough, know what I mean?" "Pervert." There wasn't another magazine I could pick up. I just kept stupidly staring at the one in my lap. "And here it is Friday already. Dude, if only privacy wasn't a problem, y'know what I'm saying?" "Pervert." "But the way things are, either we gotta do without, or go somewhere else. Or else whack off in front of each other," he added, slowly, as if it had just occurred to him. "Pervert." "Never whacked off in front of a guy before," he went on. "In front of a girl, sure. My girlfriend in high school, she used to hold my balls while I did it. It was the closest she would let me come to sex with her. Not that I expect you to hold my balls, mind you." "Pervert." But the thought of holding Derf's balls made my cock jump, and the magazine moved. "We could, like, plan it, y'know? I mean, like, plan a time for it, when we both knew it was gonna happen. Then there wouldn't be any surprises, no reason to get grossed out or anything. And if one of us didn't feel up to it, then he wouldn't have to be there, right?" I forgot to say "Pervert" this time; I was too intrigued by now. I just pretended to read the same page over and over in the magazine while he went on. "Yeah, I think that's what we should do. Pick a night when neither of us has class. I pick Sundays. Know why? I always work out on Sundays, and I always get real horny after I work out. I mean, like, I've gotten stiffies in the shower sometimes. Embarrassing as hell, dude." I couldn't keep my mouth shut. "Oh, like in the laundromat is better." He grinned and, after making sure the old lady wasn't watching, stuck his hand into his pants and adjusted his own boner. "Well, at least here I have clothes on to cover it." "I got news for you, dude, it ain't covered." "I know." He winked. "But all I have to do is close my shirt and it will be. But you, man, yours sticks straight out, not up like mine. Doesn't that make it hard to hide?" "Why the hell do you think I've been reading the same fucking magazine page for an hour?" "Not an hour," he said. "Just twenty minutes. Look, your washers are all done." Great. How was I supposed to transfer my clothes to the dryers without standing up and revealing my hardon? Derf must have read my mind. "Tell you what, dude. I'll go keep Granny occupied. You do what you need to do." He winked at me and buttoned up his shirt. He was right; the way his hardon stuck straight up, the front of the loose shirt covered any evidence of it. He hurried over to the old lady. He engaged her in conversation, keeping her looking in the opposite direction from me. His eyes kept flashing to me, though, and I was embarrassed to stand up. "This is ridiculous," I muttered to myself. Then I saw Derf's hand, beneath the counter and out of her sight, make that fake-jerk-off motion again, and he winked. He couldn't mean what I thought he meant. He couldn't. I shook my head. He repeated the motion and grinned. I shook my head again, unbelieving. What he did next shocked the hell out of me. He slipped his hand under his shirt and unlaced his pants. He tugged the laces a bit looser, and pulled out his dick. The whole time, he kept talking to the old lady as if nothing were going on out of her sight under the counter. He looked over at me and winked. Man, I was horny as all-get-out. He wasn't gonna jerk himself off right there in the laundromat, was he? My own dick was sticking straight out now, and I just had to touch it or go crazy. Derf started stroking himself surreptitiously, all the while keeping up a conversation with the old lady. You know how some guys, especially the ones like Derf who are in great shape, like to rub their bellies up and down while they talk? That's what it must have looked like to her. Holy shit, but he was one smooth motherfucker. She never even suspected what his hand was doing under the counter. I started rubbing my own cock through Derf's sweats. It was already damp with pre-cum, and as horny as this was making me, it wouldn't take very long for me to shoot. I couldn't believe we were doing this. What if somebody walked in? But nobody did. I kept rubbing, and Derf kept stroking, and every now & then he'd flash me that goofy grin of his, like "Ain't this cool, dude?" Then I felt my orgasm approaching. I didn't want to shoot inside his sweats, and yet I was too embarrassed to just whip out my dick in public like that. So I made a mad dash for the restroom. The door had barely closed behind me before I had the sweats down around my ankles. I sprayed my load all over the sink. About three seconds later, Derf came in behind me. He must have pulled his shirt down over his hardon again to cross the laundromat. Now he yanked it back up, and dropped his pants down to his ankles. He winked at me. My face felt hot, and I knew I was blushing like crazy. Then he scooped up some of my semen from the edge of the sink and rubbed it into his balls with one hand while he jerked off with the other. He was grinning from ear to hear. He closed his eyes and leaned back against the cold wall. For the first time in my life, I was watching another man come. With his dick sticking straight up like it did, a lot of his load hit his own lean body, and soaked the front of his shirt. Some of it ran down the shaft and mingled with mine on his balls. A lot of it went running slowly down his lean, hairy legs. A few drops fell onto his pants and his bare feet. He gave off a long sigh. His hands were covered with jism. He lifted them up to his face and breathed deep. Then he looked up at me and grinned. He held one hand out toward my face. "Want some?" I swatted his hand away. Some of the white liquid spattered the front of my shirt. "Pervert," I said, but I couldn't make it sound like I meant it. He laughed and shrugged. "Suit yourself," he said. He licked his hand. "Mmm," he said. "Tastes like chicken." How could he joke about this? Not knowing what else to do or say, I pulled my -- I mean, his -- sweatpants and headed back out of the restroom. I went to my washers and started unloading them into a laundry cart. When Derf came out of the restroom a few seconds later, his shirt was open again, and though he had pulled up his pants, he hadn't bothered to lace them up very securely. They rode his hips so low that I could see his pubic hair through the lacings. He was rubbing his sticky hands up and down his lean, smooth belly, leaving little shiny traces. A little trail of white liquid ran down from one corner of his mouth down his unshaven chin. He winked at me, licked his lips, and said, "Now let's get this laundry done and get out of here." I was quick to agree. ... to be continued ...
