Andrew's Story Chapter 1 March 16 2001
Written By: Justin Case
Disclaimer: OMG, look where you are; its a gay site. If you want to be here, good. If you don't want to be here, bounce. If you shouldn't be here and you know the answer to that. Be out. The author, his editor and the website, will not accept responsibilities of your actions; either before you read this, or after. This story is rated M and has sexual content. BTW this is not a joke, it is real. Oh the story is fiction, but based on reality. One more little thingy, we don't consider this story pornography. This story is educational. Remember its all a matter of perspective!
Words from the author: Hey! Yep, yep. Its me! Oh boy, I have broadened my horizons. For months I didn't feel like writing. I have been perusing Nifty for inspiration. Suddenly, I remembered what my good friend Eric Case said to me months ago. "Just have fun." So here goes Eric, I'm just having fun. BTW I miss our chats. I dedicate this story to you Eric and your friend, on your anniversary. For the rest of you; keep the e-mails coming; I love hearing from you; the address is still the same Justin69SK@aol.com
BEEP-BEEP-BEEP
"OOOOoo." I sighed, as I hit the snooze button. "Just a few more minutes." I thought to myself.
BEEP-BEEP
"Dammit" I said, under my breath. I struck the alarm once again. "I have to get up. Come on Andrew you can do it. I don't want to. You have weight lifting; you have to." Oh, the inner self and its ability to control me, as well as argue with me.
I looked at my bedside table; the clock said 4:35 AM. With its bright red numbers, flashing 4:35 AM. I sat up, in my dilapidated old twin bed. It was dark, but the night-light cast a dim light through our bedroom. I heard his deep breathing. How could he sleep through my alarm? God, I hated him. Damn, the floor was so cold; did I really have to walk to my dresser? I slowly emerged from the bed and crept across the room to get my clothes.
"Do you have to make so much noise?" Jon grunted at me.
God, I hated him. My stepbrother, Jon can be such a geek! He thought he was popular, but I knew better. Shit, half the football team laughed at him behind his back; the other half couldn't stand him. Jon was a pain in the ass. I glanced over to him, as I walked across our room. "Why couldn't I have stayed in Florida, with my mother?" I wondered.
I opened the top drawer of my bureau and grabbed a fresh pair of boxers. It was too dark to see. I wanted to wear my plain white ones. Today was a special day; I was going to wear my white Sean John jeans and my red and white Echo hoody, so the white boxers were essential. I was going to wear my favorite red and white Nike sneakers. "Oh well, too bad Jon; I gotta turn the light on." I thought to myself, as I clicked the switch to find my boxers.
"You fucker, Andrew. Turn the fucking light off." Jon screamed from his bed.
I hated sharing a room. I especially hated living here; with my dad, his new wife, his parents, my sister, as well as my step-mom's two sons. I just wanted to be back down in Florida with my mom. "Yeah, that was cool; just Moms and me" I thought. I don't know who I hate more, Jon or my grandparents. I'll need to start a list of those I hate. Have you ever lived with parents and grandparents? Talk about putting up with shit; you have no clue until you have two sets of parents over your head.
I silently tip toed up the stairs from the bedroom in the basement to the living room. I hated everything about this place, Connecticut. I was forced to move here this past summer when my father was transferred from Florida. I had lived with my mom, but got into some trouble; let's not go there now, then my father said I had to live with him. It wasn't even my fault, but like I said let's not go there.
So far, I've lived here almost a year now and only found two people I really like, Sarah and my boss. Actually, my boss is Sarah's father. Sarah is really cool, she accepts me the way I am, helps me with my homework and always lets me confide my deepest secrets. Her dad is different than most adults, he never judges me. He always sees the best in me and is easy to talk to. I met Sarah at school, she's in a couple of classes with me; we even have the same last name, Johnson, we're not related though. She's like my best friend, nothing sexual. I don't even know if I like girls.
I have to take a shower first thing in the morning, it wakes me up. I come out of the cellar, clad only in my boxers, still rubbing the sleep out of my brown eyes. I walk through the kitchen. Sitting at the table is Gramma, she's reading the paper and eating a rice cake. Nothing ever changes. Every morning my Korean grandmother is up before the rest of the household. I always wished I put on a bathrobe, so she wouldn't see me in my boxers, but never do.
"Don't get water all over the floor Andrew." Gramma says, as I stumble through the kitchen and dining room, headed for the bathroom.
"Why can't we have a bathroom down stairs?" I wonder.
"Good morning, Gramma." I say, without any enthusiasm, as I go into the bathroom.
Alone in the bathroom, I close and lock the door. I need my solitude; after all I do my morning thing in the shower. I only do it once a day, well, that's what I tell people who ask. Not that many ask, but once in a while guys ask each other "how often ,or do they jerk off?" I'm really too embarrassed to tell the truth. Besides, is it anyone's business? I put my white boxers on the vanity counter. I check my looks out in the mirror. I'm part Korean and Caucasian. Often, I'm mistaken for Puerto Rican. I have short black hair, usually I wear it spiked unless the gel wears out and then I put on a hat. I have dark brown eyes set deep above my nose, which is small. I have a square jaw and high cheekbones, which accentuate my new smile. Yep, I had braces; they came off in December. People tell me I have a great smile, but I still cover my mouth a lot and try not to smile.
I strip out of my boxers. I look down at my cock; it's half-awake. I'm fourteen, so I don't have much hair down there yet, but I do have some on either side of my dick. I have quite a bit of black hair under my arms; I wish I could transplant some of it to my privates. I saw this commercial for Rogaine but that's for your head; I think. I pull back the white shower curtain and turn on the shower water. I turn back to the medicine cabinet and get my toothbrush and toothpaste out and begin to brush my teeth. The entire time, I watch myself in the mirror mounted over the sink and vanity. "Two minutes, two minutes." That's what the hygienist told me the proper brushing time was, when they took the metal out of my mouth. "How the hell am I supposed to know how long two minutes is, when I'm in the bathroom?" I wondered, again. I wondered that every morning. How many people have a clock in their bathroom? We don't!
"Andrew, Andrew! Hurry up. I need to get in the shower." The shrill voice of my stepmother came, it was so loud it made the bathroom window shake; I swear.
I had forgotten, she told me last night about her appointment at the hospital. She told all of us, actually, they were checking her nerves. She announced, like she was proud of herself, "Its my nerves, the Doctor said its my nerves." "Shit, if anyone should have a problem with their nerves it should be me." I thought, as she told us. As far as I was concerned, it was just an excuse for being such a bitch. Let's add her to the list of people I hate. I didn't even acknowledge her, as she pounded on the door.
I felt the warmth of the water as it sprayed over my smooth young body in the shower. I was in heaven as the water warmed my torso. I closed my eyes and turned, so my small five foot, one hundred and fifteen pound frame faced the pummel of water, as it cascaded my naked body; from head to toe. The only thing better than taking my morning shower, was being in my comfy bed; with the blankets pulled all the way up to my neck. I began to escape reality; I went to the place that was mine and mine alone.
BANG, BANG, POUND She wasn't letting up. She wouldn't either. When the first bang happened, it scared me. It sounded like she was in the bathroom with me. "Damn her." I thought. I quickly soaped myself up and rinsed. I washed my short black hair in record time. No fantasies this morning, no release for my balls.
"Just a minute!" I shouted.
I got out of the shower and quickly put on my fresh white boxers. I barely dried myself off. After all, I didn't want her on my case; today was a special day. I just kept telling myself, "She's just a bitch." Jim, that's my boss' name, has told me; "its not always you, sometimes Andrew, its them." He also, tells me he feels bad for me. "Andrew you're too nice a person for that kind of treatment." Man, he makes me feel good. I just had to remember all the things he tells me. "Andrew, you're so nice; I can't believe how you get dissed in your house." Sarah has told me, more than once. Thank God for real friends. I mean I have a lot of acquaintenances, but only Sarah and Jim seem to be real. Do you know what I mean?
I hurriedly left the bathroom, after I had collected all my things. I went back through the dining room and kitchen of our raised ranch, as I headed to the dungeon. Wearing only my white boxers, I might add.
"You didn't get the floor all wet; did you?" Gramma's voice pelted at my ears, through the room.
"Mmm" I said, exasperated as I returned to my bedroom.
"Today is a special day." I kept telling myself, as I bounced down the stairs. I was picturing the way I'd look in my special outfit; the one I wore like once a week. I guess red and white are my favorite colors. Sarah has told me on more than one occasion that I look good in red. Jim made a comment one day too, he told me red was his favorite color.
"God damn you, fucking Andrew. Can't you walk down the stairs?" Jon screamed, still in his bed.
"I'm sorry Jonnie. Did I wake you?" I finally acknowledged him.
"Fuck off you little fag." He retorted.
Oh, how I hated him. I couldn't help but wonder if I was? A fag, I mean. I had heard the expression so many times. I liked girls. Didn't I? I mean, Sarah was my best friend; it didn't matter what I thought of Tad. Right? Talk about nerves, like I said; "If anyone should have problems with their nerves it should be me." I thought, as I went to my closet to get my clothes. I'd lay them out on my bed, before my run. I had to run, yep a mile every morning after my first shower, I took another after weight lifting. I grabbed my yellow addida sweat suit off the end of my bed and put it on, shirt first of course; I mean I had to tuck it into the pants. I glanced at my clock, the two inch red numbers blinked 4:55 AM; "A little earlier than usual." I thought.
As I opened the back door I heard Gramma yell, "You got water all over the floor."
"Be back in fifteen, Gramma." I called over my shoulder, as I exited the house from hell.
I felt the brisk, March morning air, as it bombarded my body. I began my run. I ran from my back door to the driveway. From the driveway, I took a left and then a right onto Evergreen Street. I would run to the second stop sign on Evergreen and then circle back to the house from hell. I know I called it the house from hell more than once, but it is.
My eyes teared up from the cold as I ran. I could feel my heart throb as it pumped the blood through my young body. I would breathe in through my nose and let the air out my mouth, as I jogged up the pavement. "Today is a special day." I kept my mind focused on that thought as I ran.
Today was the day I was to compete; head to head with Tad in weight lifting. Tad was the only other boy in my weight class. Today would decide which one of us would go to State Finals. I was nervous. I never was good at anything, but I had to show them. Today was going to be different. Jim always tells me, "Andrew, you can do what ever you put your mind to." I could hear it ringing through my ears, almost like he was with me.
As I rounded the first half of my run I began to picture Tad. Why did I keep doing this? I actually thought about him yesterday; when I beat off. Maybe I was a fag. "I'm going out with Crystal," I told myself. Flashes of Tad kept crossing my mind; his smooth chiseled body. I visualized him in his weight lifting uniform. Bam the bulge of his cock, in those navy blue spandex shorts, was a frozen picture in my head. I reached my driveway, panting. The cold air had further woken me up. I could feel the throbbing of my heart, in my ears. I felt alive; I was ready to take on the world and Tad.
I walked in the front door to the house from hell; the heat hit me directly in the face. My eyes were still adjusting to the lights, as I crossed from the living room to the dining room. Gramma was still sitting at the table, with my step-mom. I squinted to see them; the lights bothered my eyes. My step-mom, Helen was dressed in her usual non-descript way; she had a light green top on with a pair of Levis. Gramma was still in her bathrobe, the one she wore most of the day. "Nothing ever changes here," I thought, dismally.
"Andrew, where are your midterms?" Helen asked, accusatorially.
"They had a problem with the grades, because of the snow days." I explained.
"Well you better be right. Those grades better be all above eighty too, or no more job." She told me.
"They should be; I've done all the homework." I defended myself.
"Not SHOULD, but better be." She said, sounding like her voice was coming from the bowels of purgatory.
"They will be." I assured her. Although I was afraid they might not be.
"Andrew? Why don`t you do as well as I did when I was your age, are you stupid or something?" I heard my father shout, from the hallway.
I said nothing; I just looked at my Gramma. I was hungry, tired, feeling kind of lonely and it was a special day. I couldn't let them bring me down anymore. I walked into the kitchen and got out a box of cereal, hoping the distraction would change the subject. I grabbed the box of Wheaties from the bottom cabinet and a bowl. I hated Wheaties, but it was Jon's favorite; so it was the only kind of cereal we had.
"Andrew, when I was in ninth grade I got all A's." My dad was lecturing, again.
I decided against breakfast. I put the bowl and box back and retreated to my bedroom. I quietly walked down the stairs; I didn't want anymore shit, especially from Jon. Today was a special day; I wouldn't let them bother me. I had to concentrate on the task at hand. I couldn't screw up. My back had been bothering me since I dead lifted the 150 lbs. the day before yesterday; I didn't use my legs. I knew better. "Andrew, you can do anything you put your mind to." I heard Jim's words, over and over in my mind.
I took my running shoes and suit off. Jon had gotten up now; he just stared at me while I dressed. He just sat on his bed and watched me. "What's his problem?" I thought, as I sprayed my new Gucci cologne onto my face. I had just got it at the mall; it cost like fifty bucks; now that I had a job I could afford it.
"What are you bitch?" Jon demanded.
"Whatever." I said, it was the only thing I could think of.
"You don't think you're going to out lift Tad, do you?" Jon asked, in a matter of fact tone.
"Boys, let's go or we'll be late." Came Dad's voice from the top to the stairs.
"Coming Gil." Jon said, like all friendly.
"I'm straight Dad." I yelled to him.
Jon pushed me out of his way as he ran up the stairs. "Shotgun!" He yelled.
"Thank you God." I thought to myself. I didn't want to sit up front with Dad anyway. The last thing I wanted was the rest of the grade lecture and to hear how stupid I am. That's my dad, he gets me in the family van alone and starts in. The conversations are always the same. Its always about how stupid I am and how I will never amount to anything. God, I can almost have the talks by myself. He tells me he loves me, but he acts like he's ashamed of me. I can't let all this stuff get to me today, especially now. Actually, today the ride is silent; none of us talk.
As we pulled into the school parking lot, I noticed Tad's car drive in right behind us. I felt my heart beat getting faster. I was nervous. When our van came to a stop Jon got out, as he did he turned to me in the back seat and stuck his tongue out at me. God I hated him.
"Have a good day, Gil." He said to my father, as he smiled at him.
"You too, Jon." My dad said.
I pulled the sliding door back and climbed out of the vehicle, my book bag in tow. I nodded at my dad, as I closed the door. It had warmed up some since my run. I didn't have a jacket on; my rhino brand hoody was warm enough. My back had that dull throb; I ignored it. I tried to concentrate on what I had to do, as I walked into the school.
"Andrew!" I heard my name being called. "Andrew!"
I recognized the voice as Tad's. I turned and saw him running towards me from the parking lot. He was so cute. Immediately I felt guilty about thinking that. Tad was fourteen, his birthday was in July a month after mine, but he was a little bigger than I was. He had light brown hair, which he kept shaved. His face was round. He had blue eyes and black eye brows that set them off. He had a bright white smile that engulfed his whole face, when he flashed it.
"Hey, my dawg. I just wanted to wish you luck. You're going to need it." He teased, as he lightly punched me on the left arm.
"We'll see, bitch." I said.
"BITCH?" He asked, as he laughed.
"Nah. Good luck to you too bud." I said, as I felt myself blush.
"How's your back?" He asked, sincerely.
"Its still bothering me."
"That's too bad. You sure you ought to lift?"
"I have to."
"Hey, what do you mean? You don't want to hurt yourself permanently do you?" Tad asked, showing genuine concern. His face suddenly became saddened. He put an arm around me, as we walked into the locker room.
"Its nothing." I told him.
"If you say so."
"Hey, you going to Sarah's party next Friday?" I asked, hoping he was.
"Yep. You?"
"Yeah, Crystal and me are going." I don't know why, but it came out kind of depressing.
"Hey after, you wanna sleep at my house? Mikey's coming over." Tad asked, all excited.
"Sure."
We parted company as we went to our lockers to get changed. His locker was one row away from mine, with the lockers between us. We bantered back and forth over the metal wall. Idle chitchat, nothing serious. I think he was as nervous as I was. Within the next hour we would know who was going to the State Finals. Dressed for the match, I grabbed a towel from my locker and headed to the weight lifting room. I glanced at the clock; it was 6:45. "Fifteen more minutes and it will all be over." I thought to myself.
"Hey, Andrew, hold up." Tad called to me.
I was so preoccupied I forgot he was there with me. I waited near the door for him and we walked to the weight room together. We didn't say a word to each other; we took our places on the team bench. There were eight others on the team and the coach. I assure you that there were more of us than spectators. Weight lifting doesn't draw a crowd, especially before 7:00 AM.
I was to be the first to lift. My heart was racing. The coach was blabbing something. Who could concentrate on whatever it was he was saying? I looked around the room, trying to clear my thoughts. I saw Brian McCarthy staring at me. Brian is the biggest kid in school, not to mention the strongest. His arms were as big as my legs. I wished that someday I could be as big as him.
"Andrew Johnson." Coach Rice announced my name.
I heard some applause as I rose to my feet. I stepped onto the mats and faced the weights. "You can do anything you put your mind to, Andrew." I heard Jim's voice in my head. I drew in my air and took my squat position. I reached my hands to the barbell and clenched my fingers around it. "Lift with your legs; lift with your legs." I heard the Coach Rice's voice in my head. I stood up with the weights, paused the hold and raised them over my head; locking my elbows before lowering them . I had done it. I had lifted 185 lbs. It was fifteen more pounds than I had ever lifted before. Would it be enough to win a place at State?
Well, what do you think? I like it. I know its not much of a cliff hanger, hopefully enough to keep your interest up. Hey, we have two things to look forward to. Will Andrew go to State and what's going to happen Friday at Tad's sleep over? Hey Eric, my best to you and all the gang. Hey Ben, if you read this too bad about Hunter. E-mail me if you wish my faithful readers Justin69SK@aol.com