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I walked along the corridor, my bag bumping against my leg as I squeezed past the throngs of people, all terribly late for their lessons. As I walked, I pulled my water bottle from my bag, tilting my head back as the refreshing liquid poured into my mouth. I stopped myself from grinning when I realized that I was effectively whoring myself out to any gay guys who were watching. I wiped my mouth, unable to stop the smile from spreading across my face, and strode onwards.

I joined the back of the line outside the Geography class, and leaned against the wall. On my left was Chris Wilson, the guy who I'd known for the last 3 years.

A stereotypical jock, he had bulging arms and a tight stomach, both emphasized by the undersized shirt he was wearing. He had blue eyes, hidden under long heavy eyelashes, and thick brown eyebrows that knitted in the middle of his forehead when he frowned. His long brown hair was stylishly thrown to the side, covering up his left eye. He shoved his hands in his pockets, turned, and smiled at me.

We had been sat next to each other by our teacher, Mr Bunting, for the last 4 months and, although we didn't get on too well, we made a good team. James Richardson ran past, slapping me on the arse as he shot by. He turned and winked at me, and I grinned back at him.
'See you at lunch, sexy.' He laughed.
'Damn right, you will.' I called after him. He walked backwards, squeezing his crotch and screwing up his face as if he were climaxing.

James and I had this whole 'fake gay' thing going on, pretty much everyone else was in on it. What everyone else didn't know was that I had harbored a secret crush on James ever since he turned around while we were changing for swimming, and I got an eyeful of his long, cut cock. Since then, I had been taking every available opportunity to hit on him and the year before, he had come out as being bi-sexual. I hadn't declared my feelings for him, instead deciding to watch from a distance.

I turned back, and smiled at Chris. He grinned back, his eyes crinkling at the sides. His white, even teeth flashed as he smiled. I raised my eyebrows and he raised his. I winked at him, testing the water. From experience, I knew this could go one of two ways. Either he would play along and wink back, or he would take offense and proclaim me as a fag for the rest of the month, until he forgot about it.

He seemed taken aback, but then his smile widened, and he winked back. Then he surprised me. He grabbed my arm, stroking my bicep with his thumb. Pulling me close, he whispered in my ear,
'Hey there, stud.' Letting me go, he laughed, and turned to go into class.

Not wanting Chris to think he'd won, I quickly walked up behind him and grabbed his arse cheek, smiling coquettishly as I overtook him. I heard him gasp and then chuckle. 'Good one.' He grinned, as he shot past me and strode into the classroom. I felt my balls twitch as I watched his arse move ahead of me. Two seconds ago my hand had been firmly planted on it. Years of sports had left Chris's butt cheeks muscled and nicely shaped.

Pulling back my chair, I sat down, pulling my sweater off. I was wearing a white muscle top underneath. I yawned, leaning back. I allowed my top to slide up my stomach, revealing my flat gut to Chris.
'Dammit.' I muttered, pulling down my top where it had ridden up. I pulled my books from my bag and placed them on the desk. I turned to Chris.
'Have you done your homework?' I asked. He was staring at my chest. I looked down. 'What?' I couldn't see anything out of the ordinary.
'Is it cold in here?' Asked Chris, his blue eyes sparkling. I looked down again.

'Shit.' My nipples were rock hard, pointing out quite visibly through the top. Chris grinned.
'Don't worry about it, Jonny. They look good. Perfect for touching.' He winked at me. So, he was taking the game further. I wasn't going to let him phase me for a second.
'They do, don't they. Fancy a feel?' I scanned his face. Looking for a reaction. He raised his eyebrows, before leaning towards me and gently stroking my left nipple. I stiffened, my eyes fixed on his. He grinned wider, and gave my nipple a pinch, twisting it between his fingertips. Even I had limits. I pulled away, wincing.
'Ow.'
'Wimp.'

Turning to Lucy, the girl sitting next to me, I grinned and mouthed the word, 'help!' She chuckled, and carried on with her work, unworried by the faux gay action that was taking place beside her. Only, by the look on Chris's face, and the rapidly growing bulge in my boxers, this faux gay action was distinctly lacking in faux.

The teacher walked in and flicked the whiteboard on, opening up the work we were going to be doing in the lesson. Chris leaned forwards and I did the same. Not to shadow him, but because it was more comfortable. He tilted his head round and smiled at me, showing his teeth again. His eyes fixed on mine, he slowly, deliberately ran his tongue over his bottom lip. I smiled back and turned to the board. Under the table, I did what I normally do in situations like these. I spread my legs apart. It allowed for unexpected erections.

As I spread my legs, my knee softly touched Chris's and I jerked it away, mumbling an apology. My eyes widened when Chris gently placed his hand on my knee, pulling at back to rest against his leg. The game was on.

Every boy in our year knew about the game. If both guys were up for it, the aim was to slowly work your way up the leg until your hand was resting on the other player's crotch. Then it was simply an endurance test, to see who could stand the touch of another man the longest. You had to take turns, slowly increasing the stakes as the game went on. Being gay, I was a master at the game.

Winking at me, Chris turned back to the board, his hand still resting on my knee. He firmly slid his hand up my thigh, bringing his hand down to the knee and up again. He did this several times, until the teacher looked in our direction and he jerked his hand away. I left my knee leaning against his, and wrote down the date. The challenge was to show absolutely no reaction to what was happening under the table. This was for two reasons. One, you didn't want anybody else to find out. It was unsurprisingly quite difficult to explain to the teacher why you were caressing another boys genitals. Two, if you winced, or showed any signs of uncomfortableness, you automatically lost the game.

I had a way to play the game that usually won. I would let the other player work their way up my thigh, leaving them frustrated as I refused to touch them back. And then, finally, I would quickly slide my hand up their thigh. Usually this elicited gasps of shock, forcing the other player to forfeit, as well as providing the bonus of watching them explain the sudden outburst to the teacher. Chris elbowed me in the side, whispering,
'Are you playing, or what, Jonny?' I ignored him, jotting down the notes from the board. Already, he was at a disadvantage. Because I was sitting on the right, it meant I could easily use my left hand to play the game, while writing normally with my right hand. He had to stop writing every time he wanted to play. I felt him grip my knee, and then slowly rub my lower thigh, his eyes fixed on the teacher. I smiled, letting him know that he wasn't affecting me. His eyebrows knitted, and he moved his searching fingers further up my leg, reaching around my inner thigh, and gently brushing my crotch with an outstretched finger. I almost gasped as his finger poked my cock, but I resisted the urge. He played well, but unfortunately for him, I was a champion. I turned to him, and fluttered my eyelashes.
'You'll have to do better than that, sexy.'

I placed my left hand on my knee. He stiffened, but then, after realizing that I didn't intend to make any further moves, he took control again. He slid his hand over mine, locking fingers. Maneuvering my wrist, he got us into a position where we were holding hands, hidden by the table. My heart started to pump faster. Nobody had ever played this way before. It was strictly grope and go, there was nothing above the waist usually. But I had to stand strong, although Chris made this tactic difficult, stroking the back of my hand with his thumb and whispering sexual things, punctuated by heavy, orgasmic breathing. Seeing that this didn't made an external effect, he released my hand, and got back to work.

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