The Spectator (vignette) (Patreon)

6/12/19

I’ve never been big on journaling, but I need to start writing this down.  Either I’m going crazy or Scott is.  He and I don’t really know each other all that well despite having lived together now for just over a year, so I can’t say for sure, but his behavior has been really, really strange lately.  Ever since he broke up with Liz it’s like he’s turning into a new person.  I was bummed out when those two broke up because she and I hit it off really well.  She was totally his type; thin, with short black hair, dark features, a tiny waist and, his favorite, a big ol’ booty.  

Honestly, she’s probably better off.  She seemed really into him, but Scott’s the kind of guy who goes through girlfriends on an alarmingly regular basis.  Every three weeks he’s got another one.  I don’t know why he doesn’t just hook up and leave it at that instead of going through the motions of starting a relationship, but nevertheless he’s always leaving someone disappointed.  

I mean, I can see where they’re coming from ‘cause dude is ridiculously attractive.  When our mutual friends put us in touch after hearing we both needed a roommate I thought I’d lucked out.  I knew he was straight, but as a gay man I certainly wasn’t going to turn down some eye candy.  If a shredded, six-foot blonde with arms the size of my head and cheekbones so sharp they could cut glass needed a place to stay, who was I to turn that down?  

The reality was far less exciting.  For someone so good looking, Scott is devastatingly modest.  I figured an athletic guy like himself would be the type to lounge around the apartment in nothing but a pair of shorts, but in all the time we’ve lived together I’ve never so much as seen him shirtless.  I’ve seen him in his gym shorts and a muscle shirt on his way to and from the gym, but that’s it.  Overall he’s pretty uptight, and I can see how his anxious, type-A personality has translated to that gorgeous body of his.  He likes to be in control.  His room is always spotless and he washes his dishes as soon as he uses them.  Hell, he even folds his socks instead of just wadding the matching pairs together.  I’m far from a slob, but his standards are probably a bit higher than they need to be.  I’ve always told him he needs to relax, and apparently he’s finally decided to take that advice.  

At first I thought, okay, he’s just in a weird headspace because of his breakup with Liz.  Maybe he actually liked her?  Scott and I are friendly, but not really friends, so that isn’t the kind of conversation he and I normally have.  And he doesn’t seem upset, exactly, just...different.  When I first came home and found him standing in the kitchen with no shirt on, I thought I’d finally just managed to be in the right place at the right time.  He’d clearly just gotten home from work himself as he still had on the fitted chinos that showed off his tight, round bubble so well, but the straining polo that usually went with them was nowhere to be seen.  Instead, I finally got the unobstructed view of his prominent pecs and shredded abs I’d always hoped for.  With just a hint of elastic from his boxer briefs sticking out above his pants and making his tiny waist seem even smaller, the sight was every bit as impressive as I knew it would be.  

So lucky me, right?  For once I managed to catch him during an off moment.  Except that was Monday, today is Thursday, and he’s done it every day since.  It’s like as soon as he walks through the door now, the shirt comes off.  I worked from home yesterday and actually watched it happen.  He came in, said hello, and then started unbuttoning while he kicked his shoes off.  The same thing happens in the mornings, only in reverse as his shirt is the last thing to go on, and when he gets back from the gym.  He spent the whole evening last night stretched out on the couch with those round, perfect pecs and washboard abs on full display.  

That’s the other thing that makes me think he’s having a rough time with the breakup and maybe just doesn’t know how to process it.  Normally he keeps to himself.  We have a decent sized apartment with a big living room and kitchen, but Scott usually stays in his room.  Or at least he used to.  Now it’s like he’s allergic to it, only staying in there when he’s asleep.  I feel like I’ve seen him more in the past three days than I have in the past three months.  

He’s been more outgoing, too.  Like I said, we’re on good terms and have a bunch of mutual friends, but we don’t really hang out with each other or make more than small talk.  Now, though, Scott’s going out of his way to initiate conversations every time he sees me.  I’m not complaining, mind you, especially if he wants to lounge around dressed like that.  I’ll stare at that handsome face and granite torso as much as he wants me to.  It just feels like something weird is going on with him.  Maybe I should just flat out ask if he needs someone to talk to? 

6/14/19

Okay.  Something is most definitely going on.  I don’t even know where to start.  Remember how I wrote that Scott’s been acting funny and hanging around with no shirt on?  Well, this morning that got kicked up a notch.  It’s Saturday, so I slept in a little like I usually do, and most of the time I don’t even know if Scott’s home on the weekends.  Sometimes he’ll crash with whatever girl he’s currently fucking, or he’ll get up early and go to the gym, all of which is to say I absolutely did not expect a sleepy Scott to come stumbling out of his room in nothing but his little striped boxer briefs while I was making coffee.  

I’ve seen the tiny underwear in his laundry, but never in action, and definitely never tented out by a slab of morning wood the likes of which I’ve never seen.  He seemed perfectly casual about the entire scene, giving the small patch of hair on his abs a scratch and waving a groggy hello in my direction as he lumbered into the bathroom.  From the few glimpses of his bulge that I’d caught in his gym shorts, especially over the last several days, I’ve always suspected that Scott was well-hung and this just confirmed it.  He’s huge.  That thing had to be close to eight inches and was like a goddamn forearm.  

I had to have been staring.  The novelty of his tiny nipples hadn’t worn off yet, so how was I supposed to process a monster cock and his tantalizingly round cheeks?  With that giant organ pulling them tight, the stripes of his boxer briefs made Scott’s shifting globes seem even larger as the fabric wedged between them, practically lifting and separating like a wonder bra.  

When he came out of the bathroom, still half-hard, I expected him to go straight back to his room.  Instead, he casually strolled into the kitchen and hung out with me while the coffee brewed like it was entirely normal behavior for him.  He even asked me what I was up to and suggested we hang out later.  That was a couple hours ago and he still hasn’t put anything on.  I can see him sitting on the couch as I write this, his thick arm up on the back and that uncomfortably large bulge sitting heavy between his man-spread thighs.  I mean, I’m very much enjoying the view, but I’m starting to worry.  

6/15/19

I may have created a monster.  Or my wildest dreams are somehow coming true?  I’m not entirely sure what’s happening yet.   

He didn’t put anything else on yesterday.  At least not when he was home.  He took his usual afternoon trip to the gym, but as soon as he was through the door he was stripping down.  Like, ALL the way down.  He had his shirt and shorts off before he’d crossed the living room, then he stood with the bathroom door open while he dropped his boxer briefs and took a quick shower.  I tried not to be a total creep, but I couldn’t help it.  Sitting on the couch gives a nearly straight-on view into the bathroom, and he didn’t seem at all concerned about my ability to see every inch of his gorgeous frame.  His package looked even better dangling free between his impressive thighs, especially with his trim little patch of bush sitting just below his abs. 

He actually caught me staring while he was toweling off, but he just smiled and kept going, throwing his towel over his shoulder and showing off his perfectly round cheeks on the way into his bedroom.  A few minutes later he was back out in nothing but a pair of small green boxer briefs, his only clothes for the rest of the day.  

Later in the evening I decided to take him up on his offer of hanging out, but I wanted to do a little experiment in the process.  I should qualify this by saying that, while I’m not in bad shape, I’m nowhere near Scott’s Adonis-like physique, so I had to bite down on my nerves when I decided to join him in the living room in nothing but my own tiny trunks.  

This was totally out of character, but all he did was smile as he looked me up and down, completely unfazed.  I started to head for the chair, but he patted the cushion next to him and motioned for me to join him on the couch.  Not at the other end, but literally right beside him.  Next thing I knew I was practically leaning against him, his heavy arm slung up on the couch behind me and our bare thighs brushing together.  I very quickly started to worry that I’d give myself away when my cock began throbbing at the circumstances, but he actually beat me to it.  

I was doing my best to think of anything other than his gorgeous body pressing against mine when I saw his bulge start to twitch and bounce in my periphery.  I waited for him to react, but as with everything else he seemed oblivious to his massively tented underwear.  Even when I pointed it out all he did was smile bashfully and blush, all the while making no move to cover or excuse himself.  I was a lost cause at this point and gave up trying to keep my own, much smaller cock, from joining in.  

As oblivious as he seemed to his own aching rod, Scott was immediately aware of mine.  I felt him tense next to me and feared that this might have finally been the line, until I looked over and saw the nervous, hungry expression on his face.  He swallowed hard and licked his full, soft lips, and I could feel his hand clutching at the cushion behind me.  Figuring I was already in the deep end I reached over and gave his meaty thigh a squeeze, asking if he was feeling okay.  

He laughed for a solid minute, a drunken, nervous chuckle as he stared back and forth between my hand on his thigh and our tented bulges.  I’d never seen the normally-confident jock so awkward before, and it was completely disarming.  He wasn’t an arrogant pretty boy who was just teasing me.  He was putty in my hands. 

I pushed things further, reaching behind and lifting his arm from the back of the couch.  He didn’t struggle at all as I took the muscled piston and lowered it to my lap, and I could feel his hand trembling as it settled against my solid tent.  He started kneading as if on instinct, a confused look in his eyes as he squeezed and stroked through my underwear.  I could see a damp spot starting to form in his, but I kept my hands where they were, letting him take his time as he began stroking the insides of my thighs and toying with the waist of my boxer briefs.  

Neither of us said anything when he finally fished me free.  I watched his eyes go wide as he studied my average cock like he’d never seen one before, his rough hand gently sliding along its length while I did my best not to explode right then and there.  Seeing the look of puzzled wonder on his handsome face, his breath hot on my neck as he leaned his trembling, granite body against me, was like nothing I’ve ever experienced before.  I’ve never hooked up with anyone close to Scott’s level, and I was starting to become frustrated by my inability to get my hands on him the way he had his on me.  

If I was eager, he was desperate.  Before I could slip my hand over from his thigh to get a solid squeeze of his oozing member, he shoved me back on the couch, pulling my underwear free before draping his athletic frame on top of me and pressing his mouth against mine.  I’d fantasized about it before and had wondered if he was really as good as the noises I heard coming from his room suggested, but it was even better than I could have imagined.  He was like a force of nature in my arms.  I clutched at his broad back, feeling the muscles shift as he writhed on top of me and ground his heavy cock against mine.  His hips were like gyros as he rhythmically pumped, and I just had time to slip my hands into his underwear and get a quick grab of his flexing, granite cheeks before he pulled out of my grasp.  

I still couldn’t believe any of this was really happening as he worked his soft lips and warm tongue across my chest and down my stomach, and before I knew it I was watching his broad shoulders flex and his blonde head bob up and down as he swallowed nearly all of me.  As much of a quick study as he was, I started to wonder if Scott had been lying to me this whole time.  For a straight guy, he worked his lips and tongue like they were a third hand, and he showed absolutely zero hesitation as he licked slowly along the underside and paid equal attention to my throbbing, churning balls.  

Even when I told him I was about to cum he kept his head in place, and he sucked down all of my explosive load without spilling a drop.  He kept sucking until I was entirely spent and softening in his lovely mouth, only pulling away when I reluctantly asked him to.  He looked like an eager puppy as he sat back and stared down at me with eyes that bordered on adoring, one hand gently sliding up and down my bare thigh while his bulging pecs heaved for breath.  

When I finally asked him what the hell just happened he immediately apologized, his deep voice coming out in a stuttering stammer as he said he hoped he hadn’t done anything wrong, and that he didn’t know what came over him.  He was still apologizing when I sat up and resumed our kiss, this time making sure I was the one who pushed him back on the couch.  

I can’t even describe the sense of power I felt as he gazed up at me with his wide, doe eyes, his impossible body stretched out in front of me for the taking.  Since I didn’t know if I’d ever have a chance like this again, I took my time.  I slid my hands slowly up his sturdy thighs, feeling every inch before grabbing his underwear and retreating back in the other direction.  His cock was like a forearm as it sprang free, slapping loudly against his ripped stomach and sending droplets of liquid flying into the air.  He looked like he was about to pop already, and as soon as my probing fingers even brushed against his hefty balls he spasmed and erupted like a volcano.  The whole couch shook from his bucking hips and he roared so loud I’m sure everyone on the floor heard it.  

It was hard to tell which of us was more surprised.  Scott went bright red as he stared at his heaping, cum-covered pecs, a stunned look on his face.  I was just disappointed.  I knew he should have had more stamina than that, a fact he began insisting when he started apologizing again.  Despite feeling like a kid who’s balloon had popped, I still loved the sight of this gorgeous stud, covered in his own juices, stammering out an apology for being a one-pump chump when he could normally last for hours.  

Scott was so busy trying to explain what happened that he didn’t notice his cock had stayed rock hard.  Despite having just blown like a geyser, the proud beast was as rigid as ever and showed no signs of going back to sleep when I started pumping away.  If anything, the explosion seemed to have heightened Scott’s sensitivity as he started whimpering and squirming at the slightest touch.  

I still don’t know what’s happening, but this feels like more than someone discovering their identity.  Embracing who he truly is would explain Scott’s strange behavior over the past couple days, but it wouldn’t explain the way he writhed helplessly on the couch like he’d never been touched before.  It also wouldn’t explain the way he came over and over again, soaking both of us in the process.  I could tell by the look of surprise with each eruption that this wasn’t normal, and Scott seemed legitimately humiliated by his trigger-happy organ.  He clearly wasn’t used to being pushed over the edge with nothing but a few strokes and licks, but while he may have been mortified, I thought it was adorable.  A bit alarming, and my head hurts whenever I think about it for too long, but adorable nonetheless.  

Scott finally ran dry after the sixth explosion.  He was so embarrassed by his bizarre performance that he insisted on scrubbing me down in the shower, and after he’d finished that I watched him scrub every inch of the couch, all without putting anything back on.  I tried to help since I was equally responsible for the mess but he refused to let me, so instead I sat back and enjoyed the view of his ample rear and sculpted muscle flexing as he knelt and scrubbed until the room was spotless.  

He seemed to be in a growing daze, so when he stumbled into my bed and fell asleep I certainly wasn’t going to argue about it.  I’m watching him sleep as I write this, his explosive cock already tenting the sheet while he’s sprawled out on his back.  I’m tempted to go over and give it a few pumps to see what happens, but I’ll hold off.  This has to be more than just a bad reaction to a breakup, right?  I feel like I’m watching something important happen; I just have no idea what it is.