Copyright © 2010 by Jaden Lane, All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording , or by any information storage and retrieval storage system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner. (Permission to post electronically is given to www.nifty.org and its affiliated mirror sites only.)
This story is a work of fiction. Any resemblances to any person, place, or written works are purely coincidental. It may contain consensual sex between young men. Do not read if you find that objectionable or if it is illegal for you to view this content for whatever the reason.
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In the Shadows of Our Lives Part 2 - Wings of Tomorrow I ~ Venus or Bust [An End Is Just a New Begining] ~
"We're heading for Venus, and still we stand tall, 'Cause maybe they've seen us, and welcome us all." The Final Countdown, By Europe.
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JON
It is said that the end of one thing is just the beginning of something new. Ain't that the truth! With one person in particular, it's time to shut the closet door behind me and start a more open and honest relationship. Well, here I go.
Out of the blue I surprise my friend Tim, "So, you're not a virgin?"
He tries to act prudish and wholesome, "Who says that?"
It's late September 2000 in a lower income area of Houston. I'm in grade 12, my final year of teenage-angst riddled high school. We're watching the Law and Order season premiere; the one with Dianne Wiest being introduced as the fictional District Attorney of New York City, by the real mayor of New York, Rudy Guiliani.
At first ignoring that it has returned from commercial break, I dig a little deeper with Tim, "You. You said you've managed to set a couple girls worlds on fire when I came out to you. You know of the two guys I've slept with. Kay, it's more like four and a half, if we're really counting. You're the half because you just won't give it up to me, yet. Either way, you know my dirty laundry. Ergo, I think it's only fair that you share too. So, who've you slept with?"
With a pensive look on his face he seems to agree, "Hmmm. Who have I been with? Well, for starters, you only count as a quarter I guess, because you got thrown out at first base. Sorry about that."
I protest, teasingly putting a hand on his thigh and pretending to slowly move it towards his crotch, "Screw that Timbo! I at least got to second base with you. What do you call that weird stuff with jacking off in your bedroom back in New Orleans, after I wore your jock on my bare skin? And how many times have you pantsed me over the last year in your pool? C'mon, admit it; you jack off to my naked image late at night, doncha?"
My hand comes to a rest a mere inch short of feeling his goods. I'm one little inch from his goodies. Letting my hand stay between his thighs just long enough for there to be no doubt as to who won this game of chicken, he casually removes my hand and gives me a mock glare.
Trying his best to hide that the corners of his mouth are curling up into a smile, he acts all stern and pretends to lecture me, "Good grief Cheesedick! Don't you know baseball dating? A kiss is first base, petting is second base, oral is third base, and baby making is a home run. Sorry, but you only managed to get me to first base. And you technically stole first, off a foul ball no less, if we're sticking to the analogy! Let's get one thing straight, you kissed me. I did not kiss back. What you and I have isn't the same as with your boyfriends, it's just homoerotic tension brought on by your fantasies of my hot body."
I lean in to Tim, my face inches from his. He gets the hint I'm playing as he again tries to hide the grin that returns. Continuing the ruse I lock eyes with him, "Oh. Sorry to be naive. Then you, the sexy, hopelessly straight, real second baseman threw me out at first base according to those rules. But at least I got that far and you can't deny it! And as much as I hate to burst your straight bubble, you sure as shit did kiss back!"
"Tim protests, "Did not. If my lips moved it's because I was shouting at you to stop!"
It's the closest I'll ever get to anything sexual with Tim, so I don't let it go, "Oh no, you're not getting out of this so easily! I promise this is the only time I'll ever say it out loud, but you did kiss back, right up until we both pulled away in absolute shock. And like an hour later, after I came out to you, right over there in that very kitchen, you gave me a kiss on the lips and told me I'm okay. Although I'll never tell another soul, tell me, what other boy can boast that they got to kiss Tim Matthews?"
"Check and mate. You are the one and only lucky duck that got to kiss my awesomeness. Well played," Tim concedes.
Only because I know he's one hundred percent cool with me, my sexuality, and my feelings towards him, I add, "And for the record? In my fantasies, in some alternate reality, you and I? We're the home run kings baby!"
Tim cranes his neck to look around me at the television, "Well hopefully for me, in that reality, I'm into it and not tied up. Otherwise that just makes alternate you a rapist."
"Hm, kinky. At least in this reality God blessed me with you and your ability to deal with the fact that my love for you is equal, like dead even, with my respect for your unfortunate sexual orientation," I say with a wink.
He blows me a kiss and then pushes my face out of his, "Yeah, yeah. Well hit another home run for us in your bed tonight then, while you mind phases into one of those other realities. But in this reality or any other, do not make me explain to Paul Hunter why it's my name you scream out at the top your lungs as the two of you consummate your marriage!"
In the rematch of our metaphoric chess game, he just took me out with his first move. I let the Paul comment slide, suddenly shy again that I'm so obvious to my friend.
Tim backs off and instead boasts his male bravado, "As for me, as you originally asked? The farthest I ever got with Jenna was second base. Drew Butler had the team over for a party and I almost got her to third, but I chickened out. I think we both chickened out. Then she decided I was too much of a jock for her and she ditched me. I've hit home runs with Stacey when she was still with Hunter, and Tania when she and Neil were fighting once."
I try to think back. I knew Tim was dating Jenna Scott over the summer between grades 10 and 11, and through the Millennium New Year. I didn't pay much attention at the time because he was more a friend through my boyfriend at the time, rather than an actual friend of mine. Back then Michael Edwards was my de-facto, supposed best friend. I say de-facto because we only became good friends when his cousin and my former best friend, Phil Edwards, moved away. I was never Michael's best friend, but he was my best friend. I say supposed because in time he proved to me just how opposite of a friend he was.
More so with Tim, at the time I was starting things off in a secret relationship with my first boyfriend, Daniel Rice. I developed tunnel vision towards Daniel; he was my entire world. So my guess is that Tim was with Jenna around the time Daniel and I were turning our plutonic relationship into something more sexual. Daniel's about all I remember of that summer. A far cry from now, last year seems like a distant memory.
Now Tim is my best friend, Phil thinks he's too good for me and long ago dropped me like a bad habit, Daniel is a complete ass and ignoring me in St. Louis, and I hate Michael. Since Tim's family moved to New Orleans, he tried to get an apartment here in Houston in order to stay and finish his last year of school with all of his friends. His sticking it out in Houston also had a lot to do with the baseball scouts knowing of him here.
The whole apartment deal inadvertently fell through thanks to me. When that happened, right at the beginning of summer vacation, Tim left to stay with his family in New Orleans. I thought he was gone from my life for good too, not just for the summer. Instead he surprised me and now lives at my place, with my version of a family, to complete his last year of high school.
Losing Tim would have been the last straw for me. I would have just given up on trying to have friends and become a complete recluse. I pat his leg, "You're the best."
"I'm glad to be here too," Tim says, knowing I've gone all introspective.
We both drop the chatter and focus on the show which is switching over to the DA side of the story. We let the conversation end when Dianne Wiest is introduced into the series as Nora Lewin, the fictional District Attorney of New York, replacing the Adam Schiff character portrayed for 10 years by Stephen Hill.
As much as I love the show, the new character momentarily puts me off, so my mind wanders again. I knew of Jenna Scott, and if I thought about it at all, I guess I would have thought Tim was screwing her. After all, banging babes is the ultimate goal of those whacky, straight, teenage slabs of flesh I drool over, isn't it?
While I'm thinking of Jenna, I wonder what happened to her; she used to be a valley girl back then, now she looks punk and acts goth. She looks confused in whatever image she's trying to pull off, and it burns me when people say she's a rocker chick because they group me in with her like we're tight or something. After three years of school together, I couldn't pick her voice out a pair, let alone a crowd. We've never talked.
As for my image, if I have one; I'm a rocker. Yeah, despite Tim's attempts to spice my wardrobe up with some trendy labels, my image is that of a rocker, bordering on punk rock when I wear my wallet that attaches to a chain and a studded leather cuff or collar. Mostly though it's just a lot of vintage rock band t-shirts and new t-shirts, hoodies and such for some of the older bands I love, and some t-shirts for more current bands like The Offspring or whatever.
But yeah, back to Jenna. I know Tim used to be with her. I didn't however know about Stacey Smith or Tania Crosby. Those two are best friends, and to the best of my knowledge have each only had one long term relationship each. Tania and Neil Anderson seem like they have been together since grade 9. By some accounts, Stacey and Paul Hunter are still together. Others say their three year relationship is over. Still, other people say that they broke up a year ago. At least I know firsthand from Paul that he and Stacey are done.
So, both were very sticky situations for Tim. He's is hot as hell; he could get any girl he wants. Why was he diddling with his friends' girlfriend, and sleeping with Stacey when she was still with Paul? Is it some sort of hetero male dominance thing that I don't get? Why doesn't he just get a girl of his own or admit that Nat Wilson and he are like Romeo and Juliet?
As soon as the show breaks for commercial again, I ask, "Stacey and Tania but no Nat? She's way nicer, and even I know she's hotter. Seriously, you guys are so into each other I swear you mumble her name at least a hundred times when I hear you beating off at night! Why don't you just ask her, or do I have to do it for you?"
Oh, I've hit a nerve. Tim counters quickly, "It's not like that with her. Nat's just a friend, totally plutonic. Like us. She was too much like a sister when we were younger. So, no we're not at it like bunnies. You're the one she had a crush on, but you had no clue. So how about you? When are you going to ask Hunter to be your boyfriend, or do I have to be the man and do it for you? And for the record, it's been a long hard few weeks but I haven't felt comfortable doing that here yet, thank you very much!"
My best friend feels on the spot so I choose to exploit this rare opportunity, "What? You haven't jacked off since New Orleans? Yeah right!"
"I just feel weird doing it here with your mom and Coach Maynes downstairs, and apparently you in earshot, even if everyone's asleep. Almost as weird as talking about it with you at all. On second thought forget about it Cheesedick," Tim says before clamming up.
"Hahaha, so you do play with my favourite penis in bed at night! Does it help you get to sleep? Oh, you're blushing," I say to Tim's reddening cheeks. He refuses to acknowledge my taunts.
Unsuccessful at baiting him any further, I switch to another point of interest to me: Paul Hunter. I let out my fears, "What if it's all a mistake and we're totally wrong and he's not into guys at all, let alone me?"
"Then I offer your other crush the option of a tight lip or a fat lip. But don't worry about it; you'll see what the rest of us see. He's totally into you. Even in your heavy metal t-shirts, you're cute Cheesedick. I'm sure the boys want you as much as the girls. I know he looked at you. I've already told you; when you guys suddenly stopped chasing each other like lost little puppies, I was convinced that you had finally hooked up," Tim never shields the truth with me now; he trusts I can handle his honesty.
I love him all the more for it. That I can talk to him so openly is such a blessing. I truly feel lucky to call him my best friend, so I don't hold back, "I'm not into the two tone messy-spike hairdo he has right now, but it does make him look hot. I'm glad he grew the sideburns back in a bit though. What do you think?"
"Well, for starters, that I wouldn't know how to kiss him without getting razor burn. He has real stubble unlike your peach fuzz. Yeah, that would be a deal breaker. Then if he wanted to do the bump and grind without clothes on, if he wasn't good in the sack, I'd have to dump his sorry ass. And I'd be all worried that he'll grow a hairy back. I don't even like guys, but thanks to Anderson I still hate hairy backs. Other than that, I don't know. What do you want me to say? He's not my type," Tim sarcastically answers.
"Kay, fair enough. Getting back to your type, what's really up with Nat and you?" I ask.
Tim drops his bravado, "If I knew, I promise you I'd tell you. Every gory, heart crushing detail. I can't get her past the `it'll ruin our friendship' argument. She doesn't want us to change, and I kinda understand. She's like my other girlfriend...only neither of you put out for me!"
"I wouldn't want to ruin the friendship," I jest.
I get a slap to the chest and then thrown into a headlock for my smart-ass behavior. I let him have his fun against my non resistance. He wrestles me off the couch and onto my stomach on the floor. The headlock becomes something else as one arm is looped around my neck and his other arm is pulling an ankle back and up towards my head. When he tires of the submission move he's trying out, he lets go of me and we get up.
I give him the flimsiest of hugs before we sit down, re-establishing the socially expected divide of space between us on the couch. I think he almost hugs me back without thinking. Fully knowing the answer, I ask for possibly the hundredth time, "You're sure you're okay with me?"
He rubs my leg like a parent soothing a child, "I'm as comfortable with you as you are, maybe more. Just no public moves like that one or else people will really be talking about you."
The show has already started again. I've figured out in the past month that Tim gets totally engrossed when he's watching something and won't talk during a show. He waits for a commercial break, the last one of the show, and then asks me, "So what really happened with Blondie? Why's Chris out of the picture now anyway?"
"Honestly?" The word escapes while I am more thinking out loud than asking him if he wants the truth.
He answers anyway, "Well duh! Yeah, honestly."
I offer my thoughts on the subject, "You. Sort of, anyway. Don't take it the wrong way; I know you're not gay. I didn't leave him for you. Not really anyway. It's just that I wanted to tell you about it a million times. You know, that I like guys. And then like a million times more when we were at your place in New Orleans. Then on the drive back here. But I didn't. I wanted to tell everyone, at some point. It just wasn't fair to him that I wasn't out and was hiding him."
"So you guys broke up because you were keeping him a poorly guarded secret? We already knew. You weren't that careful," Tim points out.
I sigh, "Pretty early on that put a lot of tension we didn't see between us, but he understood and never pressured me much. I think we were breaking up already for other reasons anyhow. We're still friends. And now because you know about me he doesn't have to be a secret anymore, and we don't have to fear what'll happen if he comes over. He wants to meet you, see for himself if you are worthy of the pedestal I portray you on. But no, I think as mostly compatible as we were, we just weren't totally compatible."
This puzzles him, "How so."
I almost start to ask him if he really wants to know, but catch myself knowing he'll say yes even if he isn't sure where I'm going. I can feel my cheeks reddening, "Kay, here goes. If it grosses you out just say so. When a guy does a girl, all the mechanics are worked out for you. You obviously know who's going to put what where."
I pause to gauge his reaction, he just nods.
I continue, "Well with two guys, someone's going to be putting something somewhere."
Again I pause, letting it sink in and hope he starts talking about the Texas Ranger's chances at making it as the wildcard team this year. Instead he shrugs his shoulders and nods again. I go on, "Kay, well let's just say that we both wanted to be doing the same thing."
"And that would be?" Tim prods. It doesn't at all shock me that he is so open minded. I just don't know how to tell him that I want to take it up the ass a lot more than I feel a desire to give it.
I accidentally educate Tim a little, "Well, there are tops and bottoms, and we both prefer the same. Anything more than that is too personal unless you're going to go to bed with me."
Tim lets that one go without comment, but what comes next is worse. I guess somehow he read a tell off of me and figured out I'm a bottom. He takes control of the conversation, "I'll have to check if Hunter's a top."
If I was red before, I am probably now ashen white. Now the subject change. I don't feel humiliated, but I feel embarrassed all the same. If there's a middle road between the two, I am walking it right now. It's real personal information Tim just guessed at. If this conversation were a sporting game I'd have spent the entire game on the defensive. At this point in the metaphorical game, I don't want to even score so much as just deflect the one sided attention. In order to do so I mock lick my lips and wink, "Totally didn't mean to notice, but this talk has you boned up. Need any help?"
"Whatever Cheesedick." Tim slaps me and we start to wrestle again. Shortly thereafter I am in a Bret Hart sharpshooter and he's toying with me, "I thought you just said you wouldn't want to ruin the friendship. Would it help you understand that I don't care you go for dick if I actually let you suck mine?"
"Only if I can rim your sweet ass too," I suggest to no reaction. Kay, we've reached the boundary. We both know that I check him out. We both know that he is completely disinclined to guys. We both know that if we ever gave in and something like me giving him a blow job happened, that I would never be able to talk to him again. He lets me go from the submission maneuver and casually adjusts himself as I roll onto my back. "You are impossible. Fucking impossible, you know that? Here I am spilling everything and you are so calm. I pretend to offer sex with you and you're all casual, you just adjust yourself in your shorts like I'm just another straight guy here. Nothing phases you."
"I've got a dick. You've got a dick. I like pussy, you like dick. All jokes aside, we both know two dicks you'd like to get to know. I just hope poor Hunter's dick doesn't disappoint because mine's off limits," Tim reveals.
That ends that conversation. We missed the ending of Law and Order. We don't know if Jack McCoy (Sam Waterson) actually won or lost this one. We talk about the show and his fictitious ability as a lawyer, and about Lennie Briscoe, (Jerry Orbach's character) and his new partner Ed Green (played by Jesse L. Martin) who joined last year. We talk about the new dynamic with Briscoe and Green and reminisce about Rey Curtis (Benjamin Bratt's departed character). We're undecided about the new D.A., but both gush over Angie Harmon's portrayal of Abbie Carmichael until the phone rings.
Tim answers on half a ring, expecting the long distance ring to be his parents. Instead it's Candy and Tim jokes to her that we were just talking about another hot brunette when she called. They talk for a few minutes before I even clue in that it's the middle sister of my three older sisters that has called from whatever port the cruise ship she's working on has docked at. I talk to her all of a minute as I walk the cordless phone to my mother, who's working on a crossword at the table while Larry is studying some notes he has on some other high school's football team.
From there Tim empties the Brita water jug in the fridge while I crack open a new bottle of cola. I coax Bandit inside for the night with a treat while Tim head upstairs for the bathroom and then bed. I use the bathroom next and am au natural, in bed with the lights out, when Tim knocks on my door. (I keep the door closed over because I do sleep in the nude.)
"Yeah," I answer.
After a pause he says, "Ah, never mind, it's nothing."
A little louder I offer, "What? Come in, 'kay."
Tim comes in and flicks on the light. He's got his ball cap on and a white undershirt and his navy blue pair of Fruit of the Loom boxer briefs. They look so good against his creamy white skin where his legs aren't tanned, bunched up in his crotch as they are when he sits on the corner of my bed.
"What's up," I ask.
"How do I get a girl to like me as more than a friend? You've gone to the next step with guys, how do you get them to," Tim asks my advice as he switches from sitting on the edge of my bed to face me, crossed legged by my feet as I pull myself up into a somewhat sitting, but not revealing position. I think it's at this point that I've got some definitive confirmation that things actually are O.K. between us for sure.
"What do you mean?" I ask, suggesting, "It's the same as you getting those girls to sleep with you, but easier because it's more romantic and all that stuff that girls like."
Looking more at my chin or neck than my eyes, he reveals, "Yeah, well about that...um, I'm sorta like, a virgin."
Being dumb for a second, I inquire, "What about Stacey and Tania?"
Tim looks away and sighs, "Virgin, Jon. Like stranded at second base. No Tania, no Stacey. Together for half a year and still no third base with Jenna. You do the math. I get too nervous. There's a reason people say Neil and I were together, and now that you and I are."
I can't help but ask, "Then why'd you say that about them? About Stacey and Tania?"
Tim rolls his eyes, "I'm telling you the truth now."
A part of me wants to ask if this is a joke. Another part of me wants to think that he's being honest right now. And yet another part of me knows his body language enough to recognize that he's hiding something. I go with the second thought; that he's being honest now, and dismiss my paranoia, "But why?"
He's quiet when he answers, "Because it's way harder for you, and you've still been with four guys. I kind of feel like something's wrong with me that I haven't bagged my first girl yet. Let it go?"
"Timbo, you're a stud. You're good looking, have a killer body, and really nice boy parts. I know you're not a pig with plans to bed the whole cheerleading squad, but I figured you of all people would have slept with a girl. What's holding you back?"
Tim shakes his head, "I guess it's partly because I'm scared. I just never know what to say or do. If there's even a chance, I panic. I chicken out, always have."
"Well then, to be honest, you're asking the wrong guy. I never instigate anything. In my mind I do, but in reality I am always the one waiting for a signal, or for the other guy to take charge and start things off. You've kind of figured out I'm a bottom. For me anyways, that means I'm submissive. Once things get started I go with the flow and see what happens. Sorry I'm of no help," I admit.
"Well, thanks anyways. As for the matter of virginity, I know I don't have to ask this of you, but nobody else needs to know. You know," He suggests.
"No worries. Our secret," I agree.
I'm guessing by his body language that he hoped I had an answer for him and is now regretting revealing his inadequacy to me. Feeling vulnerable, he rests his hands over his basket. I'm doing my best to not steal any glances down that way, especially not where his thighs disappear into the soft cuffs of the boxer-briefs. He knows I have an underwear fetish, and I have an attraction to him. Putting his hands casually over his junk doesn't exactly stop my growing erection.
I can't just leave him hanging though while I take a mental picture, I have to take the bull by the reins. My tent is becoming obvious so I don't bother being discreet. I press it down through my sheets and trap it between my thighs, pointing out, "See. You have that reaction in people. If you're afraid of not being good enough or something, I can promise you, we all feel that way. Just pretend I'm a girl in front of you right now. While you're worried about not being any good at sex, I'm looking at you and just praying that I turn you on as much as you turn me on. I'm hoping that I'm good enough too."
Tim waves a finger, "Whoa there, let's not pretend you're a girl. I don't need the image in my head causing me to laugh out loud thinking about this when I'm that far with a girl. She'll slap me and chase me out of the bed."
I try to cast him a devious look, "Yeah, you also don't want to think about me when you're with a girl, you may just associate the feelings and switch teams!"
"Dream on. Just because I said you're cute earlier doesn't mean I want to bed you. Now that Paul Hunter, he's a stud. I'd do him."
I protest, "I thought you didn't like his stubble."
"Ah, he can shave," Tim says with a shrug and a flip of his hand, as if he's waving it off as nothing important.
I argue, "But what if he grows a hairy back?"
Tim pretends to really think before answering, "Then I hand him off to you."
"Hands off my guy," I pretend warn, before getting back to his dilemma, "Kay. So I'm a dude here with you right now, and that doesn't work for you. We'll remove me from the picture. You're in your room with a girl. She's on your bed and I'm at work. You've been fooling around, touching her, kissing her."
He asks, "Are we naked? Feeling each other up?"
"No, not yet," I answer, adding a dig, "But strangely enough she doesn't even mind the smell of your baseball uniforms stinking up the room too terribly; she's that into you."
"You love my stuff," Tim points out.
"Not the point," I counter.
"But you do," Tim presses.
Yeah, I do. His baseball uniforms are a major turn-on to me. He knows it, but strangely he lets do his laundry anyways. I guess there's a balance between being unnerved by it and being too busy/lazy to do his own laundry.
I get back to my scenario, "So you're crawling over her and doing whatever, you know foreplay. She's doing the same. Undress her, but don't let her undress you. When she reaches for something, you take it off. That way you're still the man."
"I am the man," He agrees.
Damn he's making me horny. I finish laying out my plan for him, half serious, half tongue-in-cheek, "Take your time and that way when you finally get in her, if you don't last long or whatever, she's still happy. Tell her how hot she is and if she's cool with it, throw on a new condom and keep on going. She'll forget how nervous you are because all she'll remember is how nervous she is, and that you were a total stud."
He smiles, "Thanks. You're totally talking out of your ass, but thanks."
I'm a little miffed, "No, when it's just you and me, unfortunately there are no asses involved. But seriously Timbo, just because my experiences are with guys doesn't change it. Sex is sex."
Tim confuses me often. This is another one of those times that I sense he wants to talk about something but veils it, or doesn't get at what he wants to and instead hides behind banter. He's the most thoughtful and perceptive person I know, and seeing the change in the look on his face right now, he's realizing I've figured out that this conversation is more a front than anything.
He sighs again, "You're right, sex is sex, although I could figure most of that part out on my own. All I got out of that was to make sure to tell Hunter to be your dominant man, wear his baseball uniform to make you hot and bothered, and that you like more than one round."
I gasp, "You wouldn't!"
Tim shakes my leg and ignores the erection it frees as he promises, "Hey, if you're my wingman, I have to be yours in return."
"Then I've got to get you laid," I concede.
He's still skirting his true intentions, although he seems genuine when he asks, "How do I stop being nervous?"
I don't know where this is all going so I try to keep it short, "You don't. You just get used to it. Like playing ball in front of 20 000 people in the city championship last summer, you'll be nervous, but you'll get through it. The next time and the next time, you'll be nervous still, but the thrill of it all that you remember gets you past that."
Absentmindedly scratching an armpit, he asks, "Do you get nervous?"
"Every time, and it makes it even better," I reveal while casually trying to tuck my boner back down. There's no way to hide it though. He catches me and smiles. It's not pity in his eyes, but it's not far off either.
"Thanks," Tim says as he gets up from my bed. Turning back he adds, "I'm sorry I do that to you, you know. Not that you get hard over me, that's kinda a trip really. I'm sorry that you have to deal with being attracted to straight guys. You better take care of that thing now."
He's not hard, but his bulge is always a good sight, so I nod back at his, "You should take care of that thing too! Do it for me."
He laughs, "Nah, I'll do it for myself, but thanks!"
With that Tim turns my light off and closes the door behind him. Me? I get down to business doing what a man does alone. I do envision Tim and the boxer briefs caressing the globes of his butt and his basket in front. I try to keep it strictly silent as I see the underwear pinched between his cheeks in my mind. I'm sure he can hear my heavy breathing and gasp on the other side of my bedroom wall as I orgasm. I'd like to stay awake and listen for any signs that he's doing the same. If I heard any evidence of him masturbating I'd quickly go for round two. But instead sleep swiftly takes me.
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PAUL
`The plan'.
It was simple. Keep my nose clean. Get the best grades I can. become a pro baseball player. Failing that, the plan would be to get the best grades I can and make something of myself.
But the plan changed.
First I got Stacey pregnant. Then her parents refused to let her have an abortion even though they also refused to let her be a teenage mother. So they forced her to sign over her parental rights to me.
All because my mother could better deal with the stigma of her screw-up of a son being a teenage parent, rather than the embarrassment of her teenage screw-up of a son also signing over parental rights to the state, I had no choice. I have Belinda now. I am a single teenage father.
Not that I am complaining; I'd never begrudge her. The minute I saw her I loved her. She caused the first change in my plans. I can't put the time into baseball that I had planned to. That's fine. So I can't become a major league player and leave this life behind. I don't need to be a pro ball player. Baseball would have just been the means to an end. The plan is flexible. It's liquid and able to adapt to the confinements oppressed upon it.
So now I work my ass off for money; more than my parents know about. I work my ass off and get good grades. When I graduate from high school the plan now is to go to school somewhere far away from here. I need to leave this life behind.
I have to do it before Stacey turns 18 and decides she wants to get revenge on me by filing for visitation, or appealing her parents' decision to sign sole custody over to me. Belinda is young enough that it won't disturb her. I'll pick up in the middle of the night, put her in the car and we'll head towards a happier future. I always thought I'd disappear to a liberal state, California most likely, or one in the north-east.
This is where the plan starts to get a little crazy. On one of my few occasions actually talking with Jon Farrows, he threw out Canada as an idea for himself. Since that conversation I've discovered that that country and its people are way more accepting and tolerant than we are here. Maybe that's my best bet for a good chance at a decent life for me and Belinda, being a gay single father, possibly on the lam and whatnot.
Oh yeah, that's the main reason for the plan. I'm just a little bit gay, and by a little bit, I mean completely.
So yeah, Canada. I'm looking at schools there to apply to, and ways of making it happen. I'll study part time, work part time, and be a father full time. Then, and only then, is when I intend to put the final piece to the puzzle. Only then do I plan to live a homosexual life.
No Mom, no Dad, no 6 nosey brothers to tell me it's wrong. They'll never know where I am. I love them well enough, but they will never see things my way. They gave me life, my parents that is, and my brothers helped shape me along the way with them. Yes, I know that.
But that's just it; it's my life. I used to wrestle with this but not anymore. I only have this one life. If I am supposed to do right, and leave a positive mark on this Earth, the only way I know that I can do it is if I am free to be me.
So the plan; it's still simple. I am going to keep up the act that I am straight. No one here will ever know. I've never told anyone except for Belinda. She doesn't know what the words mean. Heck she hardly knows more than a handful of words and can't even talk in sentences yet. I just can't ever let anyone here know that I am gay! I've seen the way guys get harassed when they are suspected of being gay. We've all been accused of being gay at some point or another. It's how straight boys define themselves through puberty. Make it clear that you are not gay by saying someone else is.
Me gay? Me? Sorry, you must be mistaken. I had a girlfriend like any normal straight guy. We had sex regularly. The fact that my girlfriend, Stacey Smith, has a big mouth that I knew would kiss and tell-all, also factored into the plan. How can I be gay when I satisfy her sexually and everyone hears about it? Like how can a guy go any farther to prove how not-gay he is?
She happened to like me. I didn't give a rats' behind about her one way or another. She has tits? Let me get my glasses. Oh yeah, that she does. Ha, big deal. They never did anything for me, but I sure gave her the idea that they did. So rather than have to work on finding a girlfriend, I just took the option that she presented to me. Yeah, rather than search for a girlfriend I took the easy out and used her as a trophy to display how straight I am. For nearly two years she was the image I needed to groom. She worked quite well.
Then it happened. The plan hit a snag.
You see, there's this boy. Damn, what a boy! He has his own style. It's like he's not from around here. No cowboy hat or boots for starters. He mostly dresses like the kids you see on television portraying your everyday all-American boy next door. He wears looser fitting jeans than cowboys 'round here do. His jeans sit low on his hips and caress his beautiful shaped bulge and butt, and then are straight in the legs. Mostly his jeans are the relaxed fit, sometimes the loose or the baggy fit, but they never flare out at the bottom or taper in.
Except for one pair; sometimes he even wears a pair that could nearly fit two of him in each of the legs with a chain for a belt. He always matches up a rocker t-shirt with those jeans at school. Always. Usually black, sometimes white. And on cooler days he'll wear a long sleeve t-shirt underneath. It's always a retro band like Iron Maiden, Def Leppard, Ratt, or L.A. Guns. Usually it's a vintage older t-shirt from years gone by, but sometimes it's a current t-shirt for said bands.
Now outside of school? He'll match up a golf shirt or long sleeve polo with the baggy pants if he wears them to a party. Hot damn it! Cute as all heck! Especially the time he was dressed all preppy, and juxtaposed it with a dog collar. Mmm! But it's the school style I like best, rock shirts and his jeans. Plus, on occasion I've seen him walk home and he'll strip to just his white wife-beater if it's really hot outside. He looks amazing when he does so and is wearing his leather cuff and those jeans. Aside from jeans, he wears jean shorts, cargo shorts, cargo pants and khakis. He doesn't wear tear-aways, jogging pants, or athletic shorts, except for gym class. Never any other time.
Do I obsess much? Yeah, maybe a little. I can go on and on about his clothes alone.
He has brown hair like me, only his is lighter. Mine is like chestnut brown and his is like honey brown. He has brown eyes. Oh, his magnificent brown irises have a warm amber-orange hue to them around the outside and a dark brown ring defining their circumferences. Mmmm, I could get lost in those eyes. He's the same height as me. His build is what mine would be if I didn't work out with weights, but rather just did cardio. He has tight, slightly defined pecks. His stomach is neither concave nor protruding. It is flat, and the waist bands of his pants and shorts rest flat on it.
Oops, there I go to his pants again! His arms are average. No flab, no definition. They are tight, but not scrawny like you can see his bones or anything. His bulge is quite nice in his comfortable fitting pants. You have no idea how badly I'd like to see him in something tight fitting. Yet again, there I go right back to his pants. I guess they become a focus when I so desperately long to get inside of them!
He's made me question my plan.
I would almost forgo the plan if there were a clear cut way of seeing the future, and us together in it. It's not a matter about whether or not he's gay. That I know. We had this thing you see. I don't know what to call it, but basically we'd scan the halls at school for each other. After he and his boyfriend broke up, well after his boyfriend got sent away to live with relatives when it became public knowledge that they might be gay, we'd plan our days so that we could pass the same places at the same times, and wordlessly stare into each other's eyes.
It's not just me that did it, it was mutual. I know that for sure. I couldn't make a move though, it didn't fit my plan. Then I was hit with a wave of pain when I saw him with that other boy. After Daniel Rice left, he moved on. Before I saw his new boyfriend the game between us seemed to intensify for a while until I gave him a ride home from the city championships. He was zoned in on my jock that day as I drove. I could sense his eyes there and could easily confirm this out of the corner of my eyes. He caught me catching him and poof, from then on he either avoided me in the halls at school or wouldn't look at me.
I have watched him for three years. For three years he's been the object of my hearts desires. I've watched his angelic face and I've seen from afar into the depths of his soul through his bear-all eyes. It's never been a question for me; I've always just known he's gay. Sure there are occasional rumors about his sexuality, but that was because of Daniel Rice.
You see, Daniel was a jock, but he was also very little, very effeminate, and often too obvious. People judged Daniel as gay, and he's the only guy I know who never got bullied or beaten for being gay. Well, not true. Michael Edwards took a bat to him, causing his parents to move him to St. Louis to live with family.
Jon was also suspect, based on his close friendship with Daniel. But to my knowledge, no one knows for sure about Jon. That was a tough time, I really wanted to take Jon aside and tell him that someone loves him as he was dealing with his loss of Daniel. His eyes cried bottomless pits of sorrow for weeks, I just know it. I didn't have to stare hard to tell his eye lids were red and raw. I wish I could have stepped in and told him I love him. But that would be shallow and opportunistic, not to mention counter-effective to my plan.
The time before, when I saw such pain in Jon, I also wanted to step in. But I didn't. It wasn't my place. I was in the change room from gym class. I was returning to the fields outside from taking my asthma inhaler. Jon grabbed a rolled up scrap of paper from his locker and then went into the washroom where Daniel was. They argued. He left empty handed and tossed everything from his gym locker into his back-pack and bolted from the school.
Jon looked right through me and probably never saw me as I watched tears stream down his face. I knew then that Jon was totally devoted to Daniel. I knew then that I didn't stand a chance at his heart. I felt betrayed. I felt angry. I felt sad for myself. I was angry at him, I was angry at myself that I never made a move beforehand. I was angry that I'm gay.
That night I had sex with Stacey to drown the inner sorrow. Even though she was supposedly on the pill, I used a condom religiously up until that night. That night I just didn't care. I actually hoped she'd get pregnant. I figured it would force me to not be gay. I thought it would give me a lie to live for the rest of my life, and in a few moments of pleasure I would set the path of my life into stone. Stacey did get pregnant. Belinda was born. Nothing else changed. I am still gay, in fact I feel more drawn to guys than even before.
Yes, I do regret that Belinda will have to someday come to grips with the fact that I am not heterosexual. I never wished that on her. In all honesty, yes, she was not planned. I'll never call her a mistake though. She was not, and is not a mistake. An unexpected consideration in my life, but not a burden. She's my little princess and I'll do right by her for all I am worth.
So now the plan involves Belinda.
She was a preemie, born on October 12, 1999. Today she's a totally healthy, bubbly baby girl with an ever growing vocabulary, coming up on a year old in a few weeks. Stacey and I have been broken up since about halfway through her pregnancy with Belinda. But we kept up the pretense of being together because she was afraid of being an only mother, and I desperately didn't want any child of mine getting a bum chance at life with only Stacey looking out for him or her.
Bluntly said, Stacey is fucked in the head. She ain't all there upstairs, and what is there is warped. Almost 6 months ago I got the courts to award me sole custody of Belinda because her parents refused to let her be a teenage parent, and they even went as far as to have her psychologist tell the courts that she is unfit as a mother based on psychotic break where she tried to harm Belinda. She's diagnosed as mildly bi-polar, with possible personality conflict tendencies. Basically she's fine and in all likelihood it was an episode brought on by post-partum disorder, but the court has accepted Children's Aid portrayal of her as manic-depressive based on the bi-polar disorder, and schizophrenic with multiple personalities.
I was worried in all the court proceedings that somehow my sexuality would come under question. Stacey had a decent theory, and sure tried to make it an issue, but I lucked out and the powers that be decided it was just her ranting and being vindictive, and irrelevant to her ability to be fit mother. I don't want to think what would have happened if they chose to explore my sexuality. Being Texas, I probably would have lost Belinda.
I dropped out of baseball and all school activities after Belinda was born, so that I could look after her and make money in whatever time I could get to work. I traded in my Dodge truck for a Chevrolet Cavalier so that I could better afford Belinda. I have made every sacrifice possible up to and including almost never seeing my friends. I go to school, I work, and I am a single father. That is my life.
My parents don't know about some of the money I make. I have one paycheque that goes into a secret account, and that is my fund for getting the heck out of here as soon as I finish high school. Thankfully I get next to free daycare from a lady at my church. That allows me to stash more money. She says she is just helping out the unfortunate, and refuses to take any more money than enough to cover the expenses of food and diapers. I gave up arguing her and now put the money that she assures my parents she is taking into my get-away fund too. I feel bad using here like this, considering she is funding my running away.
The lawyer I used was through church too. He's actually specialized in financial law, but proved still more than competent for what I needed. Being a good Baptist, he provided his services in exchange for me committing to be his yard-boy once a week. And not in a gay porno plot way either. In a dig out that tree stump and wash the muck out of the eaves while he and his family are at the cottage kind of way. But I have to play the cards I'm dealt.
So yeah, the plan. As much as I'd like to be with Jon Farrows, and as much as I believe there is mutual attraction, I can't.
Once I get my life settled I'll look for my first boyfriend. It's a depressing thought and I feel weak at times and ready to give into the urge to just get a boyfriend now. More specifically, it's a struggle to not throw myself at Jon. I really, really want a boyfriend, and I want it to be him. Sure I want to have sex with him. I want so badly to experience sex on such a profound level, with someone I am actually attracted to.
Yes, there's the fact that I am just plain horny, and want to get my first gay experience under my belt. But I am also looking for a long-term relationship with a man. I am looking for companionship. I badly want now what ultimately can ruin the plan. Get a boyfriend, get killed, and leave Belinda fatherless. Get a boyfriend, have my parents find out, and get kicked out of the house. Nope, I just don't see the upside to having a boyfriend.
I'll be honest, there are a few guys I would love to put it in. But they are straight for starters. All but one. Jon Farrows. And he has a boyfriend. I saw him with the guy the night I helped out at last year's grad ceremony and dinner. My friend Jackie saw him with that same guy at the mall. Definitely boyfriends. I haven't seen the guy around this year so far, but then I don't think the guy goes to our school anyhow.
This summer I even tried to cut my hair, bleach and style it like that guy's, in hopes of catching Jon's interest this year. Thankfully that was right at the beginning of summer. I reclaimed my senses and it has nearly grown out now. Now I just have frosted tips, and in one more hair cut they're gone too. Then I'll grow my hair back out to my usual length. Not long, mind you, sort of like Jerry O'Connell's hair in Mission to Mars, or like Chris Klien's as Oz in American Pie.
I quickly gave up on trying to catch Jon by copying his boyfriends hair, just about the second it was too late and the scissors were hacking away at my freshly bleached hair. I have to admit that was stupid. I shouldn't have wasted the money on it. I should have realized that the haircut I was borrowing from a gay guy might just look gay on me too. At least it looks gay around this part of the country anyhow. All because I saw Jon's boyfriend that night after the grad party and wanted to emulate him.
Of course I would have never even volunteered for the grad committee in the first place if Jon wasn't on it. I screwed that up too. I wanted to, but in the meetings and during the entire grad I never so much as talked to him. I think I pushed him away some. I think maybe he noticed me checking him out and got defensive; he does have a boyfriend after all.
Just to add to my connection to him, Jackie recently took a job working in the music store at the mall that Jon is a manager of. Oh yeah, Jackie Wilson is one of my best friends. But the whole him working for Jon thing I don't quite get. I mean, he tells me all the time that he thinks Jon Farrows is a fag for like two years, and now he's cool with him, works for him, plays pick-up ball with him, talks to him at school, and says nice things about him? At least I don't have to betray my heart over Jon and gay bash with Jackie. That's a huge relief, and if anything, I almost want to tell Jackie about me too. So I hear things about Jon occasionally from Jackie, and I hear even more because Jackie's twin sister Nat is in Jon's group of friends.
Yeah, I am so infatuated with him. But again, I could swear that it once was mutual. I hang onto moments in time search for their meaning. Like how for a time there, he looked me straight in the eyes in the halls at school. Not now, never now, but before the summer. And there was the time he checked me out, the one time I drove him home from a baseball game. I'm not just making that up. Then there was the time he fell at the mall and he smiled so warmly at me when I helped him up off the floor. I swear I could just feel so much in that smile.
I could be wrong, but some guiding force in me knows otherwise. I need him. I need to be with him. I need his love as much as I love him. If something were to ever happen, he'd trip up my plan, but I almost think I'd give it a chance.
Oh well, one month of school down, eight to go. Then Belinda and I are out of here. No goodbyes, no nothing. Out like a thief in the night, never to return. I have to stick to the plan. But here's a thought, why do we always fall in love with the one's we can't have?
[to be continued]
).:.(<<
Note to the reader:
So here's the first chapter of Wings of Tomorrow, part 2 of In the Shadow of Our Lives. It's been a long time coming, and I know I promised to deliver it by late summer / early autumn... Sorry? (picture Gilly from Saturday Night Live) Anyways, here it is! I'm excited to get back to Jon, and am going to use the first person – alternating perspectives for this part of the story. I hope it's worth the wait.
For those that may be using this as a starting point; yes, there is a background. 25 chapters worth in fact. I'd kind of love it if you read everything up to this point, but it's not necessary to enjoy the story going forward. (I mean, hey, if you care to go back to the beginning and work your way to this point, I'm not going to stand in your way!)
Merry Christmas and Happy New Year,
~Jade xo