We were just boys, 14 at the time I think. He was a greaseball, a pot-smoking heavy metal kid with a s*** attitude. I was a nerd trying to be cool, nursing a secret crush. He never talked much and the few times I was able to be alone with him we’d smoke pot and he’d lie there staring at the sky, probably not wanting to talk to me. Sometimes I would steal a glance at him then turn away and fantasize. I saw him with his shirt off once, he was in beautiful shape with a pale lithe body. As he lied there I would imagine slowly removing his shirt, then taking the joint from his lips and replacing it with my mouth.Maybe he would be shocked, this macho greaseball, but in my fantasy he always liked it and would make a soft little moan as I kissed him. He would be strangely shy and passive and I would become the man of the two of us, leading the way to s**. My mouth and tongue would explore his neck, his chest. I would kiss and stroke those beautiful dark red n****** on that pale chest (I kept stealing glances at them when I saw him with his shirt off, they were juicy like black cherries). My tongue would make a wet stripe down his front as I tasted his flesh to the belly button. Then it was pants off, and he was fully erect with the most swollen c*** I have ever seen. I would make a meal of his d*** and balls, moaning like an animal as I ate and choked on that c***, consumed him into a shaking, thundering o*****.