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I groan. Sunlight is streaming through my window blinds, just dripping with enthusiasm for the new day. Fuck you, Sol. I pull my pillow over my head and turn to my left side to face the wall. My boxers twist around me, painfully, cutting into the morning wood I've been sporting for the past few days. At least, that's the name that I've heard thrown about. I'm scared of how sensitive it is, and how even just a brush of the hand can bring it to life. How even just seeing that person can set me on fire, cock first.

I've actually never masturbated before. It just never seemed very appealing to me. But sometimes I find myself waking up with my hand down there, and I am disgusted with myself. I don't mind how it looks or anything... I mean, I think I should be kind of proud of it. I can JUST close my hand around it when I grip it for a pee, and I've been able to make special arrangements with Coach Kleats to have longer shorts for gym class... not that I ever participate.

I think about what day it might be. I think it's a Saturday. I roll over, giving up the fight against the sun, and look at my alarm clock. 10 AM. I guess it's Saturday. Mom and Pop know not to even try waking me up on the weekends. This is Jughead time... I can smell Mom baking cookies with molasses in them for Jellybean.

My erection is still persisting, even as I try not to think about one of my best friends. I crawl out of bed and take the two steps to my bedroom door. I make sure it's locked, and I turn on some of my music. I've given up on the stuff that it seems everyone else is hooked on. Rap, R&B... Give me some jazz, something with a beat that can really get me going. I'm sick of hearing Pachebel Canon in D everywhere I go... And this music here, is enough reason to keep breathing.

My knees are still a little wobbly from waking up, and I catch myself against the door, accidentally rubbing my erection against the hard wood. It felt.. good. Really, really good. Not even thinking about it, I rub against the door a little bit more. Stop. Stop stop stop. My family is just down stairs. But.. I'm up here. My door is locked. I have music playing. I have my own bathroom with a shower.

I lay back in my bed and lazily trace my fingers up and down my chest, a little suprised at the muscle that's developed instead of the fat that I've been dreading for the past few years. I think of my friend. Laughing. Talking. Touching. Me.

As I continue to think of them, my hand goes lower and lower, and I get more and more nervous. This is private! I'm alone! Why should I be nervous? Why should I have this much anxiety?

I pull my boxers down, down, down... and my cock springs free. It really does look a bit glorious, with the sun playing off of the black hairs around the base, showing colours of blue and purple... the rounded head looking quite... lovely. I touch it, tentatively, and it sends shivers down my back. I slowly wrap my hand around the base, and bring it up, then bring it down. I add more pressure and do it again. Oh holy damn. I am sweating with nerves of what I'm doing, of someone catching me, and I am sweating from the tension, my body knowing that a release that has been held for Seventeen years will soon come to a close. My breathing is different. I am breathing as if I've run a marathon, and I'm sweating. Everything in me seems to be getting tighter and tighter and I pull and stroke my cock. I imagine fucking my friend, raw and hard, and I feel as if I've exploded in pleasure... It's hard not to moan out, and I'm just glad I have my music on. Warm droplets hit my chest and stomach and I'm still shaking, my balls feeling unbelievably tight. Without really thinking, I grab those and play with them, roughly, making more, bigger droplets of cum land on my chest.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

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I step out of the shower, washing the filth away and step out, hoping that I'm a new Jughead.
I hear a knock at the door, so I yell out, "Just a sec!!"

I take the dark red towel, fresh out of the wash, and wrap it around my hips. A wave of relief washed over me as I no longer had that forsaken erection.

I opened the door after turning down the music, and SHE is standing there. I guess I was just kind of standing there, because then she giggled and said, "Sorry Jughead, I guess I caught you at a bad time."

"No! No you didn't. Excellent timing, actually. Did you want to come in? Did you want to wait for me downstairs? I think I have some food, or or my Mom is baking cookies for Jellybean!" Shut up Jughead, shut up, you are rambling.

A quizzical look on her face. "Are you okay, Juggie?"

"I'm fine! Just fine." I run my fingers through my hair, forgetting it's wet.


Forgetting I'm just in a towel.


I heard Betty gasp as it dropped, my renewed erection holding the damp towel from hitting the ground.


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BETTY POV

As the door slams in my face, unexpectedly, I hear a sob. Jughead's been really strange lately, and I just want to see if he was alright. Did the woman hater finally crack? I knock on the door, softly.

"Juggie, it's okay!"

"No, Betty, it isn't... It isn't okay. I'm so sorry. You should leave."

"But Jughead..."

"LEAVE!!"

I.. I'm shocked. Jughead has never, ever raised his voice at anyone, not even Hotdog. Something is definately up.

I don't move. I'm not leaving.

I make myself comfortable outside his bedroom door, listening to his muffled music. It's strange... I haven't really heard anything like it before, and.. I think I like it.

"Betty?" I hear his voice softly carry through his door, the moment his music stopped.

"Jughead."

"You didn't leave."

"No."

The door opens, and I am looking at a sliver of one of my best friends. The small portion of his eye that I can see is bloodshot, and his fingers that are gripping the door are shaking. I reach out to touch them, and the door is opened a little more.

"I'm sorry you had to see that," he apologizes, as if he was talking about some great sin. I step forward towards the door and he opens it for me, allowing me into his bedroom. It's still warm and steamy from the bathroom, from the shower I had interuppted. I look at him and he's dressed in his usual clothes, crown and all. Silence permeates his room and I go to the nearest sitting place- His bed.

"What's wrong, Jughead?" I ask. He looks everywhere but me. Hands are clasped behind his back and he seems to be really out of it. I stand up and go right in front of him. I reach out and grab his face in my hands, forcing him to look into my eyes.

"Jughead."

His eyes meet mine, and then, I know. He steps a little closer to me, and I step closer to him. Our breathing matches. Inch by inch, he gets closer to me. I never realized how warm his eyes could be. Somehow his hands have ended up on the small of my back, and my fingers are through his hair. The tension just keeps building up and up and up and is he going to do it why is he doing this what is going on. Jughead Jones, proclaimed woman-hater and bachelor for life, is kissing me, Betty Cooper.