My Jim Carroll fantasy --
today, playing in Jim Carroll's pubic hair

"I wanna run my fingers
through your pubic hair, just
play around in there
until I cum." I'm
saying this to Jim Carroll.
He's in my bedroom, lying
naked on my bed. "I'm gonna
jerk myself off with one
hand, and play with your
pubic hair with my
other hand." Jim Carroll is
on his back. I'm lying
on my side. "How much
for all that?" I ask him.
"Fifty bucks", he says,
"but if you want me
to cum, that'll be a
total of seventy-five."
"Oh hell yeah," I
say, "let's make
it seventy-five."
 
Jim Carroll and me are
in my apartment, or
rather my parents' apartment. My
parents are gone for
the afternoon.

As you may recall,
Jim Carroll and me are in
the same English class at
the fancy high school we both
go to. I sit
right behind him
in that English class.
Jim Carroll's parents
are poor.  My parents
are kinda rich. Jim Carroll
does drugs. He needs money
for that. I get a generous
allowance. So today I'm
paying Jim Carroll to lie
on his back and let me
play in his pubic
hair while I jerk myself off.

So I start running
my fingertips around
in his pubic hair.
His pubic hair
is reddish-blonde,
just a tiny bit
darker in color
than the hair on
his head. His pubic
hair is kinda curly,
kinda kinky too. It's
soft, but also kinda
wiry -- and kinda brittle
and dry, but just a
slight bit sorta oily too.
It feels really really
good tangled around my fingertips.
I guess this is something
I've wanted to do
for a while now, just
play around in his
pubic hair, really
feel its smooth
sex-hot texture.

Now, his dick
is hard, his dick
is rubbing against
the top of my hand
as I play with
his pubic hair.
I'm doing this
with my right hand.
Meanwhile, I'm
jerking myself off
with my left hand.

"When I start to cum,"
I tell him, "then
I'm gonna grab your
dick and jerk on it
until you cum."

"Fine by me," Jim Carroll
says. "Less work
for me."

Also, in case I
didn't mention it before,
I'll go ahead and
say it now: I'm in love
with Jim Carroll. He's a hot
skinny gorgeous basketball
player. He's a great basketball
player. That's why he's
going to my fancy expensive
private high school. They
gave him a scholarship to
play basketball for them.
He's really good. I don't
play any sports. Mainly
I read a lot. One day after
English class I got up
enough nerve to talk to
him and offered him money
to come to my apartment
and have sex with me.
People talk. I knew he
sometimes has sex with
guys for money, even
though he's straight.

Anyhow.

So today Jim Carroll and
me are once again doing sexy stuff
in my bedroom.
We've agreed on the
price, and I'm playing
in his pubic hair
and jerking myself off.

"You got a real nice set-up
here," he says to me
as I fiddle around
in his pubic hair and
tug on my own
rock-hard dick.

"Yeah, I know," I say.
"Lucked out I guess."

"I'd say so," says
Jim Carroll, as my
knuckles hit the top
of his hard long
thick dick while
I'm playing in
his pubic hair.

"So maybe we can make
it an even hundred bucks
today," he says, "instead
of the seventy-five, and
instead of your jerking
me off when you start
to cum, you can
suck me off instead."

By now I'm so turned
on that I'm leaking
pre-cum like crazy,
and I know I'm only
a few seconds away
from starting to
spurt.

"It's a deal!" I say,
way lounder than I
need to, but,
I'm pretty dern excited.

So I start spurting
cum, I wrap
my lips around
his dickhead and
still keep playing
around in his
pubic hair with
my free hand
while I suck
on his smooth
gorgeous dickhead,
and, just as I'm done
spurting my own cum onto
the sheet beneath me, he starts
spurting his cum
into my eager mouth,
and I swallow and
swallow and taste him
and taste him and taste him   
and man it's all good.

After we've
both cum, he lies there
on his back, his
legs spread wide
like he's airing out
his balls. I lie
back beside him
and stare at
the ceiling.

"That was real nice,"
he says. "That'll
be a hundred. Now,
please, I gotta
be somewhere."

"Sure," I say. I
get out of bed, looking
at the big blob of my cum
that I've left on my sheet.

I go to my desk,
open a drawer, pull
out a hundred in
five twenties.

He's already dressed.
I hand him the cash.

"Next week?" I say.
"Wednesday, about this same time?"

"Sure," he says.
"That'll work."

I follow him as he heads into
the living room and
puts his hand on the
doorknob.

I'm still naked.
My dick is still
hard, and I leak
a couple lingering drops
of cum onto the
hard wooden floor.

"Ya' got a nice dick,"
Jim Carroll says to
me. "I gotta admit
it, and ya got pretty balls
too."

"Um, thanks," I say. Of
course it's all part
of what I'm paying
for, from
time to time, him telling me
I've got a nice bod
and a nice dick and good
balls. Truth is,
I'm not a bad-looking guy,
especially for a guy
who doesn't do sports
and who likes to read a lot.

"I'm glad you think I've
got a good body," I say.
"That's nice to hear."

"Don't mention it," he
says. "It's true.
You're tall and skinny,
kinda like me in
that way." Then, he's
out the door, and
I'm standing in the
living room, naked,
my dick still hard,
and I'm thinking
that after I throw
my cum-spattered sheets
into the washing
machine, I'm gonna
get in the shower,
and spend a nice
long time jerking
off in there. I may even
cum three times while
I'm showering
instead of my usual two.

It's just that kind
of day.

--Carl Miller Daniels (August 26, 2024)