This story is an original work of gay fiction. None of the people or events are real. While some of the town names used may be real, any other geographic references (school, events) are purely fictional. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is completely coincidental. This story depicts sexual situations between high school aged males. If reading this is illegal where you reside, or you are not at least 18 years of age, you are reading at your own risk. This work is the property of the author, Lee R Wilson, and shall not be reproduced and/or re-posted without his permission. Story ©2023 Lee R Wilson.
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Grocery Store Fantasies
CHAPTER 2 - Working With Fruits - How Apropos
I need to get this off my chest. I don't have a therapist; can't afford it, so you're the lucky ones I vent to. I'm Robert Armitage. Rob is OK. Not Robby, Bob, or Bobby, please. I'm a grownup now. In my mind, those are kid's names. I've been holding onto this for, well, we'll just say quite a few years. This all happened when I was in high school. To say these events changed the course of my life would be accurate. I'm not saying that course was terrible, not perfect either, just not the way I envisioned before this all happened. I've had a pretty good life, moderately successful in my career and have a wonderful family. Not a wife and kids, but brothers, sisters, nieces and nephews. A small circle of friends, none of whom have any clue who the real Robert Armitage is. Well one person does, if he's still alive, but he hasn't been a friend for, gee, that same quite a few years. This is not a coincidence.
I applied at the Shop-N-Save as soon as I turned 16. As I already mentioned, I had brothers and sisters, most were younger than me. I had one older sister, almost 18 at the time, one younger sister and three younger brothers. Yeah, if we were close enough in age we could have been a volleyball team. The younger ones ranged between 8 and 14 back then. We're all pretty close to 2 years apart. Whether our parents planned that or not, I can't say, but it sure seemed like it. Unfortunately, we weren't rich. Hell, even lower middle class would be a little bit of a stretch. Never threatening to be homeless, but never having enough money to experience some of the minor luxuries in life. Vacations were long weekends camping; hotels were too expensive. We had a home phone and dad had a cell phone that would only be used if absolutely necessary. Purchasing too many minutes was not in the cards either. I had a paper route from 11-years-old. I didn't get to keep much of my earnings; the family needed it. I mention all this to justify why I've done some of the things I'm about to discuss. Whether that justification is valid, well, I'll let you all decide that.
So, I followed what I figured was a typical progression of a young, male, grocery store employee. I started out pushing carts, cleaning bathrooms, doing any of the grunt work that needed to be done. After a few months of proving myself in that role, a position opened up in the produce department and I got my first promotion. I never knew there were that many different kinds of apples. Pears and plums too. But I digress. As was common in many industries, you moved into a new job, you spent some time training. Nothing too eventful happened during my training, but I do remember one fun thing from that time period.
The broccoli we sold had a piece of square cellophane wrap over it. It didn't arrive like that, we had to put the cellophane on with a rubber band. My trainer, Matt, and I would race doing some of the things we needed to. Wrapping the broccoli was a perfect candidate. Of course, being new, I expected to lose most of these races, but I felt a great deal of satisfaction when I did win. This was one of those times. We kept a radio in the back room so we could listen to music while we were preparing some of the products. Shrink-wrapping melons was another common prep activity that lent itself well to racing. Anyway, back to the broccoli. We both were set up with a case of broccoli, a stack of cellophane, and a supply of rubber bands. We were moving along pretty well, I was almost keeping up, maybe taking a second or two longer per head than Matt. Then Def Leppard's 'Bringing on the Heartbreak' came on the radio. At the time, it was one of my favorite songs. I went from being maybe most of a head behind to clearing my case before Matt, who still had three heads left. (The broccoli anecdote is actually true, but, as Bon Scott once sang, only the names have been changed to protect the guilty.)
"What the fuck Robert? If we played that song all the time, we'd finish a four hour shift in three hours."
Of course, that wasn't exactly possible. Someone still would have needed to replace the product out in the store that last hour. That, and the fact we were paid by the hour, not by the number of heads of broccoli or melons we wrapped.
"I like the song, what can I say? It makes me happy. I guess I move faster when I'm happy."
"I'd say so. Hey, if you were gay, you'd be happy all the time. He he."
"Funny Matt. Suck my dick."
"I said if YOU were gay, not me. Pecker checker." (Another little tidbit of truth, being called pecker checker. I hope the real `Matt' isn't reading this.)
Matt was from the next town over and was just a little older than me. A big enough difference for him to be in 11th grade to my 10th, but close enough to be able to joke around with like that. The produce manager, for example, was quite a bit older than us. He was an OK guy, but not one for joking around at work. The nickname Matt had just saddled me with would be used by him for as long as I knew him. Fortunately, he never used it around anybody else. I wasn't gay, at least didn't think so at the time, but I was a bit on the curious side. Getting called pecker checker lit a spark in my head, or maybe fueled an already present spark.
After working closely together with Matt, we started to become good friends. We'd do things together outside of work, like go to sporting events, movies, normal shit for 16-year-olds. Since we had gotten to be good friends, we took the pecker checker joke to another level. Whenever he called me that, I'd tell him to whip it out. Sometimes even kneel in front of him with my mouth wide open. Over time, I secretly wished he would, so I really could check his pecker. I wouldn't just check it though. I had a desire to suck it. (Again, all true except the ages. Fantasy begins here.) So, one time we're in the refrigerator in the back room, putting stuff on our carts to fill up the shelves. It was like a 15x15 foot room. Huge, so it could store enough inventory to not run out of things too often. I don't remember what led up to it, I probably dissed him, jokingly, and he called me pecker checker. As had gotten to be the habit, I said whip it out, not expecting him to do so. He never had before. I suppose he was a little horny so he pulls down his zipper and takes his semi-hard dick out. I was obviously staring at it. I liked seeing it. Actually, I wanted to touch it and more. Fortunately for me at the time, we were about 6 or 8 feet apart, so reaching out and touching it wasn't possible.
"Shit, you really are checking it."
"Um, no. You just surprised me. You never did that before."
"Bullshit, you were staring at it. I bet if I keep it out longer, you'd start drooling."
"OK, you had your fun, put it away."
I obviously didn't want him to, but had to be cool about it and not show my desire any more than I already had. He put it away and zipped back up, but he had this look on his face, like 'I gotta remember this.' Remember it he did. We were closing that night. At the end of the night, a lot of the items needed to be packed up and brought back into the fridge. We had just brought the last of it in and still had a few minutes left in our shift. Matt had closed the door completely.
"Hey pecker checker."
I turned to him.
"What?"
He had his dick out and this time he was only about a foot away from me.
"Matt, give me a break."
"No. Robert, give me a hand job."
"You're serious?"
"Come on, we don't have all night. I know you want to; you know you want to."
I look toward the door.
"Nobody's going to come in. I'll cum quick, I guarantee it."
So there I was, looking at his dick, inches away from my hand. Being called pecker checker for a while now, I was almost hypnotized into doing it. I reach out with my right hand and wrap it around his cock.
"Mmmmmm. Yes. Start rubbing it."
It was like I was on auto-pilot. My hand wasn't part of my body any longer. My brain was saying 'don't do this' but I couldn't keep myself from doing it. I started stroking him. He was moaning quietly, urging me to go faster. I started stroking him faster, all the while, my own dick getting harder and harder in my pants.
"I'm gonna cum. Catch it in your other hand so it doesn't go on the floor."
Again, it's like I'm outside myself and I do as he asks. Moments later he starts squirting his cum into my left hand. I see this and I cum in my underwear, never even touching my dick. We're both shaking with our orgasms. He finally stops cumming. I have to use both hands to keep the puddle of cum from dripping onto the floor.
"What do I do with it now?"
"I guess you have to wipe it on your clothes or eat it."
I look at him like he's crazy. That's on the outside. On the inside I'm thinking 'good idea' but I can't seem too willing to eat it.
"Shit. Go get me some paper towels so I can wipe it off."
"Nope. I want to see you eat it."
At this point, I pretty much have no choice. If I separate my hands to open the door, it'll drip on the floor and I'm sure he'd make me lick it up. He's not only a little older than me, he's also a bit bigger than me. Only an inch or so taller, but he probably outweighs me by 30 or 40 pounds. If he wanted to force me to do something I had no chance to win that battle. I raise my hands toward my face, lowering my head at the same time and slurp up his cum. It grosses me out a little and I shudder, like I'm eating a brussels sprout or something equally disgusting. After I lick most of it off my hands, he opens the door and I'm able to get a paper towel to wipe the rest of it off.
"Thanks Robert. That was great. Next time I'll make sure you don't get it on your hands."
"Um, gee. Thanks."
I look down at myself, fortunately no evidence that I came in my pants. He obviously knows I did, but at least I can get out of the store without cum dripping off my slacks.
I turn and leave, heading to the time clock to punch out and out the front door. Once I'm in my car, well, really mom's car, I contemplate what just happened. Even though eating his cum initially grossed me out, I'm now thinking I liked it. I had stuffed a couple more paper towels into my pocket before I left. I open my pants and wipe as much of my cum off as I can. Fortunately, I pass some woods on the way home and toss the towels out the window.
The next time we work together, neither one of us says anything about what happened. We basically continue on as before, good friends, hanging out together, etc. It wasn't until two weeks later before we closed up together again. This typically happened on Friday or Saturday nights, or Sunday afternoons. Busier times. There were 5 part-timers, so we all rotated the shifts. It wasn't fair for anybody to work closing both nights, so you'd work with different people. This time it was a Friday night. As it started to get later in the evening, I couldn't stop thinking about what we had done two weeks before. I think I had a non-stop boner from about 7:30 until closing time. Once again, we finished a bit early and he closed the fridge door.
"Hey pecker checker. I got something for you."
I turn around and look, sure enough, his dick is out and is hard, all 6 or so inches of it.
"Let me go get some paper towels."
"You won't need them."
"Why not?"
"Because you're going to give me a blowjob this time."
Yes!! I've actually wanted to do this for a while, but again, can't make it obvious.
"No way!"
"Oh, don't give me that. You came as hard as I did last time. You want my dick in your mouth more than an ice cream sundae on a hot summer day. Start sucking. I promise I'll cum fast again."
"Am I that transparent?"
"Yes. Go ahead, check my pecker with the inside of your mouth."
I put my mouth over the head of his dick. Now that I'm actually doing something I've dreamed of, I realize I don't have a clue how to give a blowjob. I fake it as best I can, moving my lips up and down his shaft.
"Ow. Watch the teeth."
"Sorry."
I resume sucking, making sure my tongue covers my bottom teeth and my upper lip does the same for my top teeth. My dick doesn't wait until he cums before filling my underpants again. Then I'm bobbing on his dick - this is when I realized I never wanted to be called Bob or Bobby ever again - and another maybe 30 seconds later, he keeps his promise, cumming quick. I back off a little bit so it doesn't go straight into my throat and make me gag. He stops cumming after I feel four spurts hit my tongue. I swallow and lick a little more, making sure I get all of it.
"Oh, fuck that was awesome. You're a good friend Robert. You liked it though, right?"
"Yeah, I did. Thanks, I guess."
"Thank you too. I'll see you tomorrow."
With that, he turns around and leaves. Once again, I grab some paper towels, stuff them in my pocket, make sure there's no visible evidence of my orgasm and head out. We both have an early shift the next day, I'm in 10 to 4 and he only has 3 to 7. So there won't be a chance to suck him again. Probably not until we close together again. I ended up being wrong about that. Before I leave at 4, he sets up the next opportunity.
"You want to come over later after I get out of work? Mom and dad took my brother and sister to see my grandparents. I lucked out having to work. They probably won't be home until like 9."
"Yeah. I'll check with my parents, but I doubt they'll have a problem with it."
Matt had been over at my house a number of times too. My parents liked him, so we'd been over to each other's houses a few times. He lived closer to the store than I did, so I left my house a couple minutes to seven. He was home by the time I got there.
"I picked up a couple slices of pizza on my way home, want one?"
"No, mom made mac 'n cheese. I'm good."
"OK. Give me a couple to finish this then we'll head to my room."
He finished his pizza and I followed him to his room.
"So, I know I kind of forced you the first time, for the hand job."
"It's OK, like you said, I did want to do it."
"Yeah, but I don't want to force you tonight. I'll ask first."
"What's the difference, I've sucked you too now, I'm cool with it."
"Well, I don't want just a blowjob this time, so I want to make sure you're OK with, um, me fucking you."
"You want to fuck? Really? Yeah, I'd like to. I've obviously never done that before, I hear it hurts."
"I'll take it slow, let you get used to it it a little at a time. You've got a nice ass. Better than some girls I know. If you say no, it's cool. But I'd really like to find out what it's like to fuck someone."
"You got hand lotion or anything?"
"Yeah, I can snag some from Cheryl's room."
"OK."
"Get undressed, I'll be right back with the lotion and a towel to put on my bed. Catch any overflow."
I can't believe it. I'm going to get fucked. As time went on knowing Matt, more and more I realized I was probably gay. Having his dick in my ass, I would definitely prove that to myself one way or the other. Although I have little doubt that I am gay. I undress and sit on his bed completely naked; harder than I think I've ever been. If I cum from giving him a hand job and a blowjob, I wonder if I'll cum twice getting fucked. He's back with the lotion and a huge bath towel.
"Stand up so I can put the towel down. And get a look at your ass without clothes."
I stand up and turn around.
"Oh, it's gonna be so nice getting into that. OK, lay down on your back."
I do that, boner pointing up at the ceiling light. He pushes my knees up towards my shoulders. I feel him rubbing some of the lotion around my asshole. Then he slides a finger in. With the lotion, it goes in pretty easily, no pain at all. After a minute or so of single finger fucking my asshole, he starts putting in a second finger. This one isn't going in as easily. It kind of feels funny, not really hurting, but more than umcomfortable. Finger number three is quite a different story.
"Ow. Maybe go slower with the third finger, that one actually hurts."
He does as I ask, obviously not wanting to hurt me so he can get to the final step. Another minute or so later, he has three fingers in my ass and starts moving them in and out, squirting more lotion on before every re-insertion. It still hurts a little, but it's bearable. I want this too, so I put up with the little pain. After a few seconds with all three fingers plunging in and out, he pulls them out and lines his dick up with my hole. His dick is glistening with the lotion as well. I never even noticed him putting it on himself. He pushes a little bit, but I tense up.
"Relax, just let it happen."
I try to relax and not tense up my ass. He pushes again and the head of his dick is inside me.
"Ahhh, hold it there for a second."
He does. A few seconds later I nod at him and he pushes his dick a little further in. The first push hurt the most. The pain is easing a little bit. I nod again and he pushes again. I look at his dick in my ass, he's a little more than halfway in. It's starting to feel pretty good.
"Push it in the rest of the way."
He does so and my dick starts bouncing and throbbing. Once again, I'm cumming without ever touching my dick. He uses the distraction of my cumming to start moving in and out. I may have just cum, but my dick stays hard.
"Oh, God that feels so good."
We both say that at almost the exact time. He starts speeding up a little. I'm feeling like I'm dying of happiness. He keeps pumping me for about 3 or 4 minutes.
"Oh, God. I'm gonna cum. You ready for it?"
"Yessss, do it. Fill my ass."
He starts cumming. I feel it hitting the insides of my ass and amazingly, I cum again. He's been hitting my prostate on most of his pushes. I couldn't have prevented cumming no matter what. Not that I wanted to. After he stops cumming, he leans down on top of me so his dick can't escape as easily. After about 30 seconds though, I feel it start to go flaccid and it slides out. I feel empty but fulfilled at the same time.
"Oh God Matt, that was awesome."
"It sure was Robert. That's the best I've ever felt in my life."
"Me too. I can't believe I came twice. But damn, I'm worn out now."
"I know how you feel. I'm not even sure I have the energy to roll of of you."
"I'm not sure I want you to."
His face is close to mine. I raise my head and give him a kiss on the lips. He not only found the energy to roll off me, but he shot off of me like he was hit with a cattle prod.
"Fuck. Why did you do that?"
"Sorry, it felt right to me."
"Uh uh. It didn't feel right to me. Arrgrhgh."
He makes a big deal of wiping his mouth on the towel. I'm still laying there with my knees above my shoulders.
"Oh, God. Why did you have to kiss me? Shit. I need mouthwash. Get dressed."
"But..."
"Put your fucking clothes on."
He leaves his room, apparently heading for the bathroom. I'm stunned. I'm barely able to move my body so I can get off the bed. It's like I've been hit by a train. I hear him spitting over and over in the bathroom across the hall. I'm not even thinking while I'm putting my clothes back on, just completely stunned over his reaction. I would think fucking me was worse than a kiss, as far as being gay went. I'm still only half dressed when he comes back into his room. He starts handing me pieces of my clothing, trying to get me to hurry more.
"Matt, what was so wrong about that?"
"It's gay."
"And fucking my ass isn't?"
"No. That's gay for you, but for me it's not. The gay one gets the dick in his mouth and ass. Straight boys do the fucking. Gay boys get fucked. You should have asked me if you could kiss me. Come on. Finish dressing and get out of here, my family could be home any time."
It's not even 8:00, he said they'd be home around 9. He just wants to get rid of me. I finally finish dressing and he's shoving me toward the front door. I'm hurt, confused, even embarrassed, even though I shouldn't be embarrassed. I put my sneakers back on and he shoves me out the door before I can even tie them. The door slams behind me. I just stand there dumbfounded for like three minutes over what just happened. He opens the door again.
"Get going you fag."
He pushes me off the porch. Fortunately, I keep my balance. I'm crying as I walk to the car. I get in it, start it up, and drive away. I can barely see anything so I stop a couple blocks away at a school. I park it, and just sit there crying. When the tears finally dry up, it's past 8:30. I've been sitting here crying for a half hour. I finally get myself settled, wipe my eyes, blow my nose. Fortunately, mom keeps tissues in the car. I realize I'm sitting in a wet spot. But the seat isn't wet, it's just my underwear. Matt's cum has been leaking out of my ass. I don't care that I'm outside, it's almost dark. I get out of the car, grabbing a bunch of tissues, drop my pants and clean up as best I can. I parked along the tree line, so I toss the soaked tissues into the trees. I realize I'm symbolically throwing Matt away. But I don't care. I'm starting to wish I could throw him away for real. I'm no longer sad. I'm angry. Both at myself, for thinking Matt really liked me, and at Matt because he was just using me. He wanted to fuck and I was gullible enough to let him.
I never want to see him again. I can't quit my job because we need the money. I don't make a lot, but enough to make a little bit of a difference in our lives. I decide to go into the store tomorrow and see if I can at least get transferred out of the produce department. My anger and sadness have both eased enough that I can see, so I get back into the car and head home.
"You're home early."
"Yeah."
I'm not hiding my bad mood from my parents very well.
"Something happen?"
"Yes. Matt's a jerk."
"What happened?"
"I don't want to talk about it. I'm going to take a shower and go to bed."
As I walk away, I hear mom:
"Wait until he's done Robert and go talk to him."
I go into the bathroom, take off my clothes and set the water as cold as I can stand it. I'm scrubbing my ass so long, dad knocks on the door.
"You OK in there Rob?"
"Yeah. I'm finishing now."
I let the water rinse me off for a couple seconds and turn it off. I dry off, wrap the towel around myself and head to my bedroom. Well, our bedroom. All 4 of us boys share it. 2 sets of bunk beds. Larry and Martin, the two youngest are already in there, just laying in bed, not asleep yet. I drop the towel and pull my PJs out from under my pillow. Martin is on the opposite top bunk, Larry is above me, so Martin sees me bend over to get my PJs. There's no privacy with 4 in the room, so we've gotten used to seeing each other nude.
"What happened to your butt? It's all red."
"Nothing, it's been itching real bad for some reason. I tried scrubbing it, I guess I made it red."
"Oh. Does it hurt?"
"No, like I said. Itchy."
Someone knocks on the door. I had just finished getting my PJs on.
"Rob, you decent?"
"Yeah dad."
He comes in.
"You need to come out and apologize to your mother for that display of attitude you just gave us. And then tell us what's going on."
Oh, God, no. I can apologize, but talk about what's going on? Fuck no.
"OK, be out in a second."
"I suppose I didn't make myself plain enough. You need to come out NOW."
I follow him out to the living room.
"Sorry I gave you guys attitude. Dad said to come out, so I'm coming out. I'm gay. I let Matt know, being my best friend, and he freaked out. Can I please go to bed now?"
Mom and dad are speechless. I know I have to wait for an answer. If I just leave, I'll be grounded. Not that it matters, where would I want to go anyway? Mom finds her voice first.
"Are you sure? Do you want to talk about it?"
"Yes, I'm sure, and I really don't want to talk about it now. I need to think. Can we do that tomorrow, please?"
Mom looks at dad, no reaction. He's obviously surprised and probably pissed off about it.
"Yes, we'll do that. Goodnight Robert. Sleep well."
"Thanks. Goodnight."
I'm up early the next morning, so I can talk to mom and dad while everybody else is still asleep.
"Good morning mom, dad."
"You're up early for a Sunday."
"Yeah, mom. I wanted to be able to talk to the two of you before everybody else was up. Sorry, I was so curt with you two last night. I was upset. I didn't mean to take it out on you."
"Now that you've slept on it, do you still feel the same way?"
"Upset? Maybe still a little bit, dad."
"Um, no, I meant about..."
"Yes. Sleeping on it didn't change me from being gay overnight. I suspect you're not too happy about it, but I can't help it and I don't see myself changing."
"Whether I or your mother are happy about it isn't really important. I'm sure you're not necessarily happy about it, but are you comfortable with it, accepting of it?"
"Yes. I've felt this way for a little while now. It all just came to the surface last night at Matt's."
"I'm guessing he didn't take it well."
"That would be accurate, if not severely understated, dad."
"So you've essentially lost your best friend?"
"Without a doubt mom. I'm not going to be able to work with him anymore. I plan on going into work later and talk to the manager, see if I can switch to a different department."
"And if you can't?"
"I'll just have to suck it up. Maybe ask the produce manager to avoid scheduling us together as much as possible. I know I can't quit, much as I'd like to. He'll probably tell everyone. I thought he'd understand. That was far from the case."
"Well, we'll support you either way. If you want to look for another job, that would be fine, but you obviously know we need even the small contributions you and Arlene make."
"I know mom. I haven't seriously considered just quitting. But I have to change something. I'll see what the managers say today and/or tomorrow and take it from there. If push comes to shove, I'll start looking for another job and give notice when I get one."
"OK. If you need to talk more about it, we're here. I still love you dear. Nothing will change that."
"I love you too son."
"Thanks mom. Dad. I was hoping you'd be at least OK with this. I don't know what I would have done if either of you freaked out. I guess I'll grab some cereal now."
I walk into the store about 11:00. Early enough so if the manager came in, he'd still be there, but late enough if he came in a little later, he'd be there already. I walk up to the service desk.
"Hey Karen. Is Mr. Thomas in today?"
"Yes. I think he's up in his office."
"Thanks."
I walk up the stairs and knock on the door frame. He looks up.
"Robert, come on in."
"Hi Mr. Thomas."
"What can I do for you?"
"Um, I need to ask if it's possible I transfer out of produce?"
"You're doing a good job there. Why would you want to do that?"
"Let's just say a personality conflict."
"Hmmm. Well, normally I'd say OK, but we're already about to be short-staffed there. I'm surprised you didn't know. Matt gave his notice two weeks ago. Yesterday was his last day. His family is moving."
"WHAT??!! Oh, geez, I'm sorry."
"I guess you really didn't know. I thought you two were pretty good friends."
"We were. I can't believe he didn't tell me."
"Does this make a difference with your request?"
"Request? Oh, yeah. Matt was the personality conflict as of yesterday. I'm just shocked he didn't say anything."
Maybe not as shocked as I think. He wanted a fuck before he left town, knowing he wouldn't have to face me again.
"Are you OK? Do you need a drink or anything?"
"Yeah, I'm fine. Just completely surprised. OK, well, I guess I'll be going. Maybe I'll let Mr. Jackson know he can give me a few more hours if he needs to. Thanks for telling me."
"You sure you're OK? You look more upset, or angry than surprised."
"Yeah, a little of each I guess. I'll be OK. Thanks again."
I get up and leave. I can't even think, I'm so pissed. It was bad enough he went postal on me last night after I kissed him, but finding out he knew he was quitting and then moving is just too much for me to assimilate. Well, one thing I won't need to worry about, he won't be telling everybody that I'm gay. Or as he so eloquently put it, a fag. I contemplate going over to his house and slash the tires on his car or something. Fortunately, that thought dies a lonely death. I'm not that kind of guy. I go back home and tell my parents I won't need to change jobs, Mr. Thomas told me that Matt had already quit and is moving.
"And he didn't tell you? That doesn't seem like him."
"Well, after last night, I couldn't say what seemed like him or not mom. He was a completely different person. All I could think is he already suspected I was gay and didn't want me to be clingy the last two weeks."
No, he wanted a no strings attached fuck. But I can't tell mom that. I head to my room to try and digest everything that's happened the last 18 hours or so.
The hardest part was when my brothers found out. Taylor, the 14-year-old understood best, but still started to avoid me. Martin and Larry, at 8 and 10 didn't really understand, but because Taylor avoided me, they followed his lead. In hindsight, something apparently cracked inside me. I became promiscuous. I didn't care if anybody knew I was gay or not. I let it be known if anybody ever wanted a blowjob, I was willing. I even let about a dozen guys fuck me before I graduated. Maybe more. I went through the rest of high school being known as the male slut. I honestly didn't care.
I stayed at the store, hell, I'm still there. After high school I went full time, became Mr. Jackson's right hand man. When he retired a few years later, I was made the produce manager. Four years after that, I'm the assistant store manager. Like I said at the beginning, moderately successful in my career. I initially changed my ways a little. After high school, I stopped blowing or fucking anybody who asked. I still had the occasional fling though.
Last year's fling hit me hard. The man was diagnosed with AIDS. I get myself tested every three months, so far I'm still clean. But I worry every day.
Every day I also fantasize ways I would kill Matt, if I could do it all over again. I think my favorite is fucking him with a 20 inch, solid steel dildo until he bled to death.
Next up - "Aren't You Freezing?"
Author's Note
Each chapter of this story will be based on a real fantasy I had as a young man, mostly during my supermarket days, although there weren't that many to make it too long a story, so at least a couple won't be grocery store fantasies, at least the first 3 will be though. Only the fantasies themselves were real. Nothing that follows really happened.
Feel free to drop me a line if you haven't already. I appreciate the comments, good or bad.
If you liked this, check out my other stories on nifty: https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/young-friends/look-but-dont-look (Complete) https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/highschool/high-school-cum-boy (Complete) https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/young-friends/the-gay-boys-of-brumfeld (Complete) https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/young-friends/my-roommate-teaches-me (Complete) https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/young-friends/our-secret-tree-fort (Complete)
And elsewhere: https://gayauthors.org/story/lee-wilson/dont-blame-the-band/
LRW