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Stupidly... tight... jeans!

I walk behind the male soprano, wishing I’d taken another route to the gym. I hardly ever go to a lot of the classes – I prefer to go and work on my guns. They get more respect from people than my supposed intelligence, I know. Being the resident badass at McKinley means I have to look the part and, I gotta admit, I love the results. I bang more high school hotties than any of the other jocks here; not to mention the little side gig I’ve got going with my pool-cleaning job.

Oh, yes, the Puckersaurus has a reputation to uphold in this mind-deadening cow town called Lima, Ohio. There pretty much isn’t much of an outlet for a horny teen than sports and fucking around. That said, I think I’m pretty lucky that I kinda fell into this whole Glee Club thing that our Spanish teacher, Mr. Schuester, revived a couple of years ago. I didn’t always feel that way but it’s kinda grown on me. The reason for that is my dad.

My dad left my mom, sister and me some time ago – just picked up and left to “pursue his music” – the asshole. Since then, my mom has struggled with keeping a roof over our heads, food on the table, that whole keeping-the-family together thing. Deep down inside I kinda understood my dad, though, because I think I inherited the music bug from him. I’m not just a badass on the football field and in the beds of countless females; I’m a badass at singing and playing the guitar, too.

Anyway, back to why I’m wishing I was anywhere rather than walking behind a certain, pale-skinned, brown-haired singer: the flex and roll of those sinful globes encased in the tightest white jeans are making the Puckersaurus tense beyond belief! Shit, it’s as if there’s a direct line tethering me to the rhythm of those hips and I find myself fantasizing about grabbing that biteable ass and just going for it.

I flinch as I know I’d probably get a kick that would send my ’nads straight up into my head because that stunning ass belonged to none other than McKinley’s resident out and proud gay teen, the haughty and super-talented Kurt Hummel. My poor guys would probably be traumatized because that boy could kick; we’d used him one year as our kicker on the football team, so I know what I’m wincing about.

Yeah, how unfair is it that this delicate little (well, not so ‘little’ now it seems he’s gained several inches over the summer break and quite a few muscles, too) snooty kid that me and the rest of the jocks used to torment should have such a strong effect on my libido? Life definitely sucks because, after all the shit I’ve put Hummel through, there’s no way this side of the apocalypse the diva would let me get my hands on that divine ass.

Hmmm, now that I’ve been walking behind him for a while, I gotta admit, the legs are pretty spectacular, too. Is it normal for a dude to have thighs shaped like that? Da-yamn, they’re even curvier than some of those super skinny cheerleaders I’ve had riding the Puckster like their lives depended on it. Shit, now my jeans are getting too uncomfortable. Man, I’m gonna have to take care of some business before I get into my training gear.

I duck into the locker room and heave a sigh of relief that no one else has decided to skip a class and come and work out. It means that I have the place to myself and I can rub out a good one right now. Uh, just pulling down my zipper is torture. Ahhh, finally, I’ve got the Puckster in my hand and I can tell he’s anxious to get going as already pre-cum is oozing from the slit.

I tighten my fist just the way I’ve always done and lean against one of the lockers. I close my eyes and picture Hummel’s luscious, soft, pink lips approaching my junk. Shit, when did I notice all those things about his lips? Fuck, just the thought of him getting ready to suck me off is making my breath come shorter. If I had him kneeling in front of me now, he would look up at me with those unbelievable eyes and I’d see that he wanted this as much as me. Oh yeah, he’d probably lick his lips and gulp a little nervously before putting out his tongue and taking a little taste.

Oh yes, oh fuck, his tongue would be so hot but I’d encourage him by putting my hand into his hair and bringing his head forward a bit. He might fuss a bit about the hair but he’d probably get distracted by the Puckzilla. More of my bad boy would slip into his hot mouth and he would whimper in that high, sexy voice of his – huh, what? Who said his voice was sexy – and I would groan at the feel of those luscious lips closing around me.

My hand is a blur as I throw my head back, the image of Kurt’s wet, swollen lips almost too much for me. I suddenly think of something better and I would stop him, easing him off the Puckster and help him to stand. I would lean down and kiss him, plunging my tongue into his eager mouth and I would taste myself in him and it would drive me crazy. I would encourage him with my hands beneath that perfect ass in those sinful pants to hop up and wrap those long, strong thighs around my hips.

Then I would carry him over to one of the benches, set him down gently, all the while devouring his mouth and then ease back a bit. He would look at me, a confused look in his eyes and then my hands would drop to the buckle of the no doubt designer belt he would be wearing. He would catch on immediately, of course, my boy was nothing if not smart, and he would start tugging impatiently at his own clothes, as anxious as me to get them off.

When he pulls those confounded jeans down long, long legs, my heart would almost stop. He’s going commando under them and I groan and grab the Puckster before everything ends prematurely. I tell Kurt he can’t go around like that anymore because I would know and I wouldn’t be able to get anything done all day. He would giggle in that cute way he has and then I’d help him get the boots off before tugging the jeans down and off completely.

I stop him before he can take off that fancy button-down shirt he’s wearing because the artist in me loves the way he looks so slutty, lying there sprawling half-naked waiting for me. The boy is so fucking beautiful and he doesn’t seem to know it. He’s been made to feel a freak for being gay for so long, I know deep down he’s not as confident as he seems. Hey, I got eyes, I can be as observant as anyone else.

I bite back a moan as my strokes change and slow down; I want to make this last as long as I can. I see Kurt licking his lips and I can’t wait – I plunge my tongue into his luscious mouth and we groan at the same time. Our bodies line up and our cocks lunge and rub against each other. Oh shit, it feels so good and I know it won’t be long before we break. This intensity can’t hold up because I can feel his nails scratching up and down my back. The sounds he’s making as our hips roll over each other are making me frantic. His normally high voice stutters as it drops an octave or two and I know it won’t be long for him either.

I bite my lip, knowing it’s going to look suspiciously swollen but I don’t care. The only sound in the locker room is my grunting and groaning as I fist my cock viciously. I want to feel that slender, hard body beneath mine so bad I can taste it. He would start to mutter as I nibble and bite my way up his long neck to his cute little earlobe – what? – and I would whisper to him: “Come for me, babe, you’re so beautiful, so fucking hot. Come for me.”

Then he would begin to shudder and shake; a tiny whimper would escape and then his body would freeze, a low, undulating cry would erupt from him as he spurts between us. I would plant kisses all over his face even while I’m gasping and suddenly I am coming too, adding to the hot, slick mess that makes movement easier for the Puckersaurus. I would slump on him as we pant like racehorses and a satisfied smirk would spread across his beautiful face as he stares up at me.

I look down at my hand, almost surprised to see my spunk oozing over my fist, my chest heaving as I try to wrap my head around what had just happened. If I’d had any shame left I’d feel bad about violating Hummel like that in my mind. I tell myself it’s not my fault that I’m a hot, bad-ass stud who happens to still be a teenaged boy. None of this was my fault at all.

I find a towel in my gym bag and wipe my hand off before continuing to undress so as to change into workout clothes. If anyone were to blame it would be Hummel and those stupidly… tight… jeans! Yeah!