IN THE CHEM LAB
Part 4
Hank had returned for his books, which he'd left on the bench in the Chem Lab, but when he opened the door and turned on the lights, he saw me, shirtless, pants down, with my dick up another boy's butt and my hand around his dick I had known that Hank had a key - one or two other boys did as well - but all of them were day students, and I had never seen any of them on campus after dark except when we were in the middle of a complex lab assignment.
I pulled myself out of Hugh's ass, unavoidably showing Hank my slimy, semi-erect dick, and quickly pulled up my pants. Hugh, stark naked, stood up, exposing the fact that he was hugely erect (he'd been about to cum, after all), looked around wildly at his clothes, which were casually strewn across the floor, then turned and ran to the far end of the lab and hid behind one of the counters. There's a reason we day students thought boarders were dumb.
"Um, uh, I. . . ." I grabbed my shirt and coat from the table and struggled into the shirt, fishing for something to say. Hugh just stood and stared at me. "Please don't tell anyone."
"Ah dunno, y'all reckon I kin? I shore did see SOMETHIN peculiar here!" barely suppressing a grin. This was actually music to my ears, because he only exaggerated his accent like that when he was teasing, and only with me was he comfortable enough to do it at all. What he was really saying, better than ordinary words could ever do, was that we were still best friends, and that I could trust him. More seriously, "Ah'll get my books and head home. We can tawk tomorrah."
"Thanks, man," pulling my coat on so I could walk out with him, "I appreciate it." He gave me a peculiar look as I picked up the jar of Vaseline and put it in my pocket, then just grinned and shook his head.
"Ah nevah would'a guessed it!" He grabbed his books and we stepped out together, closing the door to give poor Hugh a chance to get his clothes on. We walked down the steps quietly.
"Um, Hank . . ."
"Tomorrah, Davy. Ah need to think own it some, okay? But I won't tell own you. Don't worry." As we stepped out the door, I saw his family's beat up old station wagon, and I was surprised to see his mother in the driver's seat. (I found out later his folks wouldn't let him drive at night yet.) This forced me to exchange greetings with her, offer some explanation for why I was here so late ("fooling around in the Chem Lab" was Hank's unhelpful answer) report news on my family, etc. Her accent made Hank's sound like standard English, and I can't think of any way to type it that would do it justice and still be intelligible. Not that it was all that intelligible out loud; for example, she thought the plural of "we" was "weuns" and the plural of "you" was "yourunziz." "Y'all" was actually the singular form of "you" in her dialect. Hank would have been humiliated had any of our friends heard her, but he was comfortable with her talking to me, and as I had spent a weekend at their farm (where he and I had chastely shared a bed) it was no surprise to me, and I even had the hang of deciphering it.
When I finally got free and headed back up to the Chem Lab, Hugh and his clothes were gone. I cleaned up a bit, turned out the lights, locked up, and went home.
I didn't sleep too well that night.
In class the next day, Hank acted like nothing unusual had happened. He winked at me once, but was otherwise he usual cheerful self. When we finally had a free period together, we found a secluded place to chat. I wasn't quite sure what to say until he started:
"So did I REALLY see you corn holing Hugh Watson last night?"
"How do you even know his name?" This surprised me because Hugh wasn't in our class, and Hank never hung out in the computer center.
"He's in my Phys. Ed. Class." Great. The famous Phys. Ed. Class strikes again.
"Oh."
"So was that really what you were doing?"
"No, I was teaching him how to clean the floor and somehow our clothes fell off. What did you THINK we were doing?"
"Corn holing, pretty much."
"Well, that's pretty much right."
"So are y'all gay?"
"Him? I'm not sure. Me, yeah, I'm pretty sure I am."
"Wail, he sure did seem to like it - judging from what I could see - and since you were corning him, I'm not sure why you think you're more queer than him. I can understand givin' it a lot better than gettin' it." He smiled at this.
"Well, in the first place, I never think about girls - only guys. I've even tried thinking about girls on purpose, and I can't make it work. In the second place, that was the first time I was ever the one doing it, but I've been the one getting it several times."
"With Hugh?"
"No, this was only my second time with Hugh, and we didn't do anal intercourse the first time."
"So you don't like girls at all? Not even a little bit?" I nodded. "How can you be sure? There aren't any here at Bailey. Maybe it'll change in college."
"Maybe," I said doubtfully, "but I see girls on TV and at church and in magazines, and they don't do anything for me, but sometimes even just a cartoon of a guy can get me going."
"Hmmm." A long pause. "So how long have you thought you might be gay?"
"Ever since seventh grade."
"And that was just from thinking about it, or actually doing it?"
"Both."
"In seventh grade?" Astonished.
"Yeah."
"Can I ask you who with?"
"A cousin of mine. He's about three years older than me. His name's Frank."
"So he made you gay?"
"No, I'm pretty sure I wanted it before. I guess I wanted it as long as I can remember."
"Wail, ah reckon you wanted it pretty bad last night!" Another sly grin.
Blushing and smiling myself, "Yeah, I kinda did." Silence fell for a bit. "You know, I'm really sorry I never talked to you about this before. If I'd known you'd be so good about it . . ."
He looked a bit embarrassed, then punched me lightly on the shoulder and said, "Wail, just remember you kaint cornhole me no matter how nice you ask." We both giggled at that, although I made a note not to tell him any of my fantasies about him.
Then, more seriously, he asked, "will you tell me about how you got started with your cousin?"
--To Be Continued