I woke up because of the movement in my bed. I took me a minute to remember that Ross had spent the night. We had stayed up late, drinking beer. As a senior in high school, I couldn't handle too many. We split a six pack and pretty much crashed in my bed. I was in a deep sleep when his movement in my bed brought me to near wakefulness. What happened next got my full attention: his hand slid over to my crotch.

I was all ready hard. I began to realize that he hadn't just been restless. When we fell asleep, I was on the left side of the bed. Now he was there. He had slid over me, rubbing his body against mine, getting me hard in my sleep, arousing my cock and myself to a groggy bliss.

Though I was shocked that this was happening I didn't hesitate to slip off my briefs. He tugged and pulled and rubbed my cock, settling into a nice jacking rhythm. I couldn't believe the pleasure. This hand job felt overwhelmingly incredible, way better than any feeling I could create on my own. Being the first time ever with a guy the sensation was accompanied by thoughts of disbelief, wonder, amazement and satisfaction. I laid there silent and motionless as Ross continued stroking. Butterflies welled up in my gut as the tingling feeling built into a powerful, pulsing squirting orgasm.

I reached over to return the favor. Ross helped me remove the pair of shorts he borrowed from me to sleep in. I grabbed his bone. It was smaller than mine but just as hard. I hadn't gone flaccid after I came as this experience was so incredibly exciting.

As he lay on his back, I jacked him off. I wanted to suck him, but didn't have the courage. I stroked him, explored around his tight sack, and stroked him some more. I was on my side staring at him in the dark. I couldn't see a thing and wished the lights had been left on. He began to pull on my cock as I layed on my side. He was able to beat me off at this odd angle. 

Ross' back arched as his body tightened up. He let out intense, short grunts. Exhaling deeply, he shot a load on his chest. All the while he rubbed my cock. Another gut welling orgasm began to stir inside me. I shot on the sheets, demonstrating my pleasure with heavy panting. I collapsed on his arm. We both fell back asleep, not bothering to clean up.

In the morning, neither of us discussed what we had done in bed. Not a word had been spoken during our jack session and not a word after. I was hoping to give it another go, but being sober and in the light of day, I squashed my desire. Too embarrassed? Too bewildered? I don't know. I don't know why we didn't speak about it. Nothing more happen.

After he left, I was watching a teen comedy--one of those John Hughes brat pack films I think. The song "Johnnie, Are You Queer" came on. To this day I laugh about the irony. Back then I questioned myself. Was I gay? I knew that chicks turned me on, but so did guys. In my youth I didn't know that there was such thing as being Bi. It took years and other experiences with both guys and chicks to figure out that I was Bi.