He's Just a Skater Boy (boyxboyxboy)

Chapter 97: The Intentions of Gift

The breeze in the air cooling the sticky liquid that was progressively soaking up into my boxers as the skirt of my dress curled around me in a way that might have been studio Ghibli levels of picturesque had one not known that the girl wearing it was a boy, and that the boy wearing it had abused red lips and wet boxers.

~⌣︵⌣︵⌣︵⌣︵⌣︵⌣~

Waking up in the late morning everything felt like one big dream, or something I'd just imagined one moment and accidentally confused as a memory. But there were several reasons why this feeling didn't last long.

Going to the bathroom to clean my face and whatnot my lip had split at the corner without me really noticing. But even then I looked at myself and felt like... I'm not sure... like I looked different somehow. But not bad. I stared at my face for a while.

Maybe it had something to do with being in an unusually good mood when I woke up. I looked at the light streaming into my room and thought, damn that looks nice, then tried to log onto my computer and it crashed immediately and it didn't even faze me, I just ignored it and got going to the bathroom.

Then going back to my room I saw the dress.

I mean the dress was washed and everything and hanging in my wardrobe. I might have been supposed to hand it back in but at this point I didn't know how I could make a girl handle something like that. Not that I knew what they would do with a dress catering to a figure missing the tits part.

I looked at it, felt some blood rushing to my face and shoved it to the side so that it was better hidden but none of the other things hanging in my wardrobe were as long as that skirt so no matter what it was obviously there.

The school was closed the day after the school festival, prefects and volunteers and all those idiots either had to or could go to school on that Monday to help putting the school back together, tallying the income of each group and various other boring time consuming chores.

But I was free, and that meant I had the chance on that calm Monday morning to forget about everything that happened.

I decided carefully that I would go in to school on Tuesday like nothing had changed, like I wasn't even bothered, didn't remember shit or care about it. And they'd be like... what's that all about, does he not even care? Nope, I just don't. Doesn't mean anything. One time thing.

I took my shirt off to change and saw the bruises on my wrists and my breath hitched. I could see the pattern of his fingers.

My mind flashbacked, like PTSD but instead of fear and tremors I remembered the feeling of my mouth and throat full and my cock being massaged through my dress as his hand pinned my wrists behind my back.

Fuck.

I turned my wrists over and couldn't help the spike in my heart rate as I saw the colour. It was worse than hickies or whatever, it was so much worse because it represented something even more humiliating.

I pressed the bruises lightly and they tingled and throbbed. My breathing got a little slow, eyes went half lidded. 

It wasn't like I was intentionally doing it. But my mind went places, my head full of the scene that made me want to jack off. Once then again then maybe one time after that.

Surely if I did it in my room I could imagine whatever I liked, it wouldn't impact anything because they'd never find out I liked it as much as I did, that part of me wanted to revisit the scene over and over, every aspect of being between the two of them heating up my blood so much I felt unsettled.