Copyright © 2011/2012 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.
I now have a web page (yahoo group) where I am posting my writing! The format is cleaner to read, both on the computer and on mobile devices, and if you join the group it will send notifications when new chapters are posted. http://ca.groups.yahoo.com/group/phantomscorpio77 Also, write me anytime @ phantomscorpio77@gmail.com :)
And yes, all due apologies for the time away from my last posting to this one. Life again got in the way of my ambition to see this story through in a timely maner.
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In the Shadows of Our Lives
Part 2 - Wings of Tomorrow VI ~ I Think We're Alone Now ~
"My mother would tell me Better stay in line, You gotta look for the magic, If there's a way there comes a time.
My dad used to tell me You gotta work real hard, Keep it straight and simple, From the head, then the heart.
If you ask my brother I know what he'd say, Let the children play.
It's not where we're coming from, It's how we turn from here. We know where we want to go We just need a line, to get us there."
Let the Children Play, by Europe
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PAUL
It's exactly a week before Jon and I can spend our next evening together. We've been dating for one day short of two weeks now. Playing it safe, we've planned to hook up with Tim, Wayne, and Jackie. Jon and I know we'll be on hold until I drop Jackie and Wayne off, supposedly on my way home, so our plan is to get them out of the picture as soon as possible in the night. Thankfully I have my car this weekend as my brother and his girlfriend have taken a rain-cheque on the use of my car until next weekend, when their schedules work better.
After I drop Jackie and Wayne off at home I boot back over to Jon's. With Belinda asleep in her car seat on the floor at the foot of my boyfriend's bed, he and I entwine our bodies on top of his bed and make out for a while, just discovering each other. Jon for the most part looks comfortably stretched out on his side, one hand sensually massaging behind my neck, the other propping him up. I'm lounging lazily beside him as we concentrate on kissing. Keeping his promise of letting me set our pace, he's letting my hands roam his body freely, and right at the moment I'm actually getting a memorable feel of his erection. It's warm and silky and soft, even though it's hard - no different than something of my own that I've played with for years in that sense - the big difference being that instead of mine, it's his!
I'm brought back to reality when Tim gently knocks on the door and tells us to get decent. Without waiting, he comes in and announces that he is bored, as we sit upright on Jon's bed and adjust our clothes. Because Tim wouldn't want to play the same games Jon and I were just playing, I go to my car and come back with `Windy', my acoustic guitar. I'd rather still be using my lips to kiss Jon and my hands to continue exploring beneath his waistband, but he didn't shoe Tim away and it's not my place to. At least my singing and playing the guitar won't wake Belinda as it's how I often get her to sleep.
Before I know it I am kissing Jon goodbye for the night, taking a Tesla CD that he's slipping in my back pocket, and accidentally leaving Windy behind. Home by eight o'clock, it's still more than early enough in the night for Jon and Tim to pick up Wayne, Nat, and Jackie and not miss out on a Saturday night. Of course to me it's already Belinda's bed time, which is a problem because she's now rested and wide awake. Having left Windy at Jon's, I grab my back-up acoustic guitar, a black Gibson named Baroness after the G.I. Joe cartoon character. She has a decidedly sharper tone than Windy, but she'll have to do. Once I've lulled Belinda to sleep, I settle on the couch for half an hour of flipping through channels on the T.V.
When I head to bed I'm still excited about my make-out session earlier in the night with Jon. Although I know it's horrible parenting to silently masturbate under my bed sheets with Belinda sleeping only a handful of feet away, my options are limited as I can only escape for so many showers in a day. I've gotten quick about the deed recently when I do it in bed, and any time I hear her stir, I stop. Even if it means I have to go without my happy ending. As uncanny as it seems, it happens a lot. The last two weeks though, Jon has given me real fuel for the task, and having touched him tonight, I explode nearly as quickly as I harden.
After cleaning up the evidence, I lay back down quietly and crack open a study guide. I might as well study for my SAT's. A productive hour later I stow the book back on my school bag, kill the desk lamp, and get to thinking.
I reflect on the past few weeks and try to think back to any times I may have let my guard down. Jackie has been hinting about all things gay a lot lately, I'm just not sure why. It's like he's in love with the word homosexual and tries to slip it into as many conversations with me as possible. Convinced that Jon is gay, it's like Jackie thinks his acceptance is fashionable. Of course he can't share his excitement about having a gay friend with Wayne, so I get a double dose. I still haven't really committed to any stance on Jon's sexuality with him, but every time it comes I have to keep myself from blurting out that I'm glad he's okay with my boyfriend.
As for Jon and I, we certainly don't give people much to talk about. Correction, we don't give them anything whatsoever to talk about. So far I've lived my usual routine with my family, my daughter, my friends, and my job, barely finding any time to set aside for Jon. He has a job and his friends on top of school as well, and he's applying to some restaurants to see if he can get a second job after having to quit his last one. So it's not like we do anything public together, when we do get time together.
The occasional rumor about him is still circulating even though there is nothing to substantiate the claims. It's going to be a hard year for him, fending off the rumors alone, but it's different for us. He's pretty confident now that he can cope if people know. Sure life will be made hell, but he doesn't have to worry about his family abandoning him, nor a daughter's best interests to think of, whereas I absolutely can't risk being found out.
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The next Saturday night I brush off my friends altogether by telling them that I have to stay home. It's the truth because Belinda and I are home alone without a car, and I don't want to ditch her at a baby sitter as often as I seem to have been doing lately. I surprise my parents by giving them some money to go out for a movie and ice cream afterwards. It takes some convincing on my part as they are wondering what my ulterior motive is. Convincing them that I have no hidden agenda behind my offer is even harder. Despite here objections I can tell my ma wants to see a movie, and when she finally relents it's with an open-ended comment to my daddy about how I better not get another girl pregnant, or else.
Just as I planned, Jon gets dropped off almost as soon as I call and tell him my parents are gone. Slinging his backpack over one shoulder, he's wearing a big smile as he steps out of the driver's side of Mr. Maynes truck, obviously still excited to have his beginners permit and getting to drive. He's dressed in a long sleeve T-shirt I don't recall, and used army fatigues that I accidentally told Tim get me hard at the sight of him in them. Tim must have squealed that tidbit of info to Jon. His wind-tousled hair's looking more of a dark blonde in the early evening sun than its actual honey-brown as he waves goodbye to Coach, glistening like strands of golden silk. He combs his hair with his fingers as he walks up to the door. Opening the door before he can knock, I pull him inside, close the door and wrap him in a hug. I ruffle his straight hair and mention how good he looks to me after a kiss he initiated.
Once he's fished his discman out of a side cargo pocket we get comfortable on my couch. We spend the night sprawled in each other's arms watching our first movie together. Partway through Almost Famous we divert our attention to each other. After a hot and steamy make-out session which has us both sweating, I check on Belinda and then lead Jon to my room. It's only quarter past eight, so I don't have to worry about James coming home in the next three or four hours, but my best guess is that my parents will definitely be home sometime around ten. Here we are, finally rounding second base together and my mind is giving me the signal to go for third, or even to try and stretch it out into a home run! I'm actually quite blissfully content with this new contact, and I know for sure that I want to go farther soon.
We start making out on my bed and I can't get enough of his body. As he straddles me I slip my hands in the back pockets of his pants and knead the globes of his cute butt while he grinds our hips together. I pull his new quicksilver shirt up his back and over his head. With the zeal of a kid he pulls his arms out of it and then whips it across the room with authority, immediately followed by his tank-top undershirt. I can see the results of his working out at the gym for the last few months already in the definition in his chest and arms. Nothing much in the way of actual muscle development, but he's definitely slightly more toned than he was when I last saw him with a shirt off before the summer.
He undoes the bottom buttons on my shirt and I lean up so that he can take it off me, and then peel off my undershirt. He doesn't stop there; he goes right for my belt and pulls my jeans off too. All too cute standing at the foot of my bed, he looks at me as if for permission before releasing the claps of his belt-buckle. He lets his fatigues drop to the floor with a thud and we both laugh. He's wearing a pair of pure white Calvin Klein button-fly boxer-briefs that are tented quite nicely.
I can feel some heat in my cheeks, but my body at least knows enough to respond in kind as my semi-erection hardens to its full length and my head slips just free of the loose and worn-out waist band of my cheap boxers. He straddles me again, this time much lower and leans in and kisses the exposed part of my penis. My whole body tenses up at the contact. I involuntarily drive my hips up with him as he sits back upright.
"Somebody's eager," He jokes.
"For your touch? I've waited over three years," I profess.
"Well wait no longer," He says with a wicked grin as he hooks the waist band of my boxers under my balls and wraps his hand firmly around my penis. In turn I grab at his boxer briefs and he helps me slid them down his bronze thighs so that I can hold his erection too. This is the first time I have held a man's penis in my hands and had mine held in his hands at the same time! Shoot, it's only the second time I've touched Jon's. It's quite magical and I must say that I am turned on big-time!
After a quick glance to make sure Belinda's still asleep we get fully naked on my bed and I run my hands all over his body. I'm in heaven! As he bends to go down on me I pull him up and get him to sit so that his legs are over my legs, and our crotches are close together. Obviously Jon's ready for oral but suddenly I am not sure that I'm quite there yet. It's not that I'm not into him, or that I have any hang-ups with the fact that he's a guy. It's just that it all only happens once, the firsts that is, and I want to enjoy the firsts and draw them out to make great memories, rather than race through everything like a whirlwind and end up not able to recall the feelings and details.
I lay back and take in his body, starting from his light brown, almost amber/hazel-brownish eyes which are a near-perfect match to his hair, to the cute rounded tip of his nose and his easy smile. I keep drinking in more, right down his perfect neck to his lightly muscled chest and toned shoulders and arms, then over his tight and tanned stomach with a hint of almost-abs. I love the way that his torso narrows before flaring out slightly for his hips, with the chorded area of his belly creating a hint of a V that ends in his crotch where his brown, trimmed, pubic bush stands contrast to the milky smooth skin where he never tans. I love the close up look of his legs, lean and firm, beautifully tanned from high thigh on down to his toes, and the dark blonde hair that starts sparsely around mid-thigh and gets thicker down his calves, but thankfully not like a coat of fur.
After taking inventory of his whole body from his warm brown eyes down to his cute little bronze toes, I start to masturbate his excited penis. We adjust our position so that we are sitting, legs spread with his over mine, our feet touching behind each other's butts. In this new position we lean in and start making out again.
We both gasp when Jon wraps his hand around the base of my penis and around the top of my sac, "Damn, I can't believe you only wear boxers, you have some pretty big low-hangers there that could use some support. Although maybe they look so completely delicious because they get to hang free."
I know there are showers and growers. I guess I fall somewhere in the first category. At fully erect length, Jon and I are very close, but I hang more than him when soft, and have a scrotum that hangs almost as low. I'm used to it, but having scanned locker rooms, I know I show more than most guys. What I don't know is how I stack up to other guys when we grow. Confirming my suspicions from last week, I'm relieved that Jon and I are about the same.
With his one hand circling me at the root, his other lifts up my sac and starts gently massaging my testicles. He sends a wave of involuntary shivers through my body. I mimic his actions, fondling his testes as I jack him off. He abruptly stops and tells me to hold the thought. He climbs off me, and I get a good look at the light dusting of hair behind his sac and in the crevice of his cheeks as he turns and steps off my bed.
Jon then grabs his backpack that he had earlier dropped on the floor at the foot of my bed and comes out with a fistful. He puts the strip of condoms back in, giving me a shrug like it couldn't hurt to try, and assumes his spot in my lap with a black bottle of Wet lubricant. I've seen similar stuff at the pharmacy but never had the brains to buy some. He works a small amount onto his engorged penis, and adds more into his hand before he resumes masturbating me and fondling my testes.
With the slippery sensation I quickly ejaculate the first of my forceful loads between his spread legs, getting all over his balls, penis, and bush with the next couple shots before splattering the remainder onto his thighs before the last shots merely ooze out. Our moans and the loud grunt that announced my orgasm have woken Belinda. I bite my lip and nod to Jon that we're good, returning my hand to his penis so that he can climax too. He puts his hand over mine and squeezes our grip tighter around his erection, working it faster and harder than I would have dared. A few strokes later he is returning the favour, plastering me from my chest down to my penis with his thick load.
I cut things off at this point, now that we are both spent, and offer him a shower. He instead licks his cum off my body, right down to the stream that had run down beside my balls, and then with a finger he takes a swipe of my seed off his leg where one of my spurts hit him. He takes this to his mouth while I still sit frozen after my orgasm, and eats that too before picking up his Calvin's and wiping up the remainder off himself with the crotch of them. Setting them aside, he puts my boxers back on instead. We make out as we dress, one article at a time interrupted by some hot kissing. He doesn't try to French kiss me and I'm a little relieved, even though I am really turned on that he's also dressed himself in my undershirt, shirt, and socks as well. The only things of his he puts back on are his pants and belt. Once fully dressed, I pick Belinda up and we see Jon to the door where he puts on his own shoes before leaving.
Jon pleads in front of my house, "Why don't you come over and stay tonight? No sex, no pressure. To be honest I'm not ready for that yet if it helps you decide. Just sleep in the same bed Paul, fully clothed if you want. I've wanted that, to share a bed with you, for so long now."
"Nah. What about Belinda?" I counter.
"Well, bring her too, obviously!" He suggests.
I'd like to, but it isn't really possible, "Nah. I can't. Her crib and all; It's too big and takes too long to dismantle and rebuild. Plus what would I ever say to my parents?"
Jon argues, "Don't you have the crib from Stacey's? I thought you said they gave you the extra crib? You could set it up at my place and tell your parents you sold it. By the sound of things your ma wouldn't care to ask where you were staying, if you stayed over. I know you stay a lot at Nat and Jackie's."
That's an idea I think to myself, already missing the distinct lemon scent of Jon's hair. I do have the crib that I told him Stacey's dad dumped on my front lawn. I can bring it over to Jon's and tell my parents I sold it or gave it away. But that won't work for today. We agree that we'll move the crib over, barring any objections from Jon's ma. We risk a quick goodbye kiss before Jon turns to start his walk home.
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JON
Monday at school is electric. A handful of students from rival school have transferred to Parkwood with us. Tim was his usual friendly welcoming committee until he saw the guys. Then he grabbed me by the arm and we walked away without so much as a word to them. He muttered something to me about how the guys better not think they're taking any spots from our players on the baseball team.
At dinner I get the low-down on them from Larry, but have to promise to keep it quiet unless the guys tell everyone their story first. Larry won't say exactly what, but he says they were victims of athletic hazing at their old school, and that's what necessitated their transfer. When I bring up Tim's worry that the guys are going to try and take spots from our baseball team, Larry tells me to tell Tim not to get to worried, that the school board has fairly defined rules about transfer-students being ineligible for that year for academic and athletic teams.
With his visit now only a couple week away, I also go over details with my ma about what I can and can't do when my friend Duncan from Vancouver comes and stays for a week between Christmas and New Year's. What I really wanted was to go to Vancouver and see if I like the city, but it morphed into this when Ma categorically said no to me going away to Vancouver for the holidays. She did however cave when I begged incessantly to let Dunny visit me in Houston instead. With Tim going home to New Orleans for the holidays he's cool with Duncan using his room and bed, even though he knows Duncan is gay too. I guess I need to start getting serious about university and Canada soon.
After dinner on Monday I answer the phone to get someone asking for Tim. She refers to herself as his agent, but something in her voice makes me wonder if this is the girl he's always talking to at weird hours, and then furiously masturbating to after getting off the phone. When Tim gets back from his city all-star baseball practice, looking seriously hot and fuckable in his dusted-up uniform, I give him the number.
He acts all strange, like he just got caught doing something wrong. He then takes the phone to his room and calls her back, almost whispering over the phone. I'm not trying to listen anyhow, well yeah I am but hell, I'm all the way downstairs. Still, he whispers all the same. After a quick shower he then brings the cordless phone back to the kitchen and has a black wedding album or something under his arm. He says he has to go do something and takes off. I have to get going too; I have to go to work and do a bunch of month end stuff and recount some of the inventory, so I can't wait for him to get back to get an explanation from him.
I have some laundry to start before I head out, so I go to Tim's room and sort through his hamper like usual to create a full wash. Sorting his laundry so that I can add his jeans to mine, I instead I grab his ripe baseball stuff from today along with his uniform from Sunday, and his practice uniform from school today. I take the cups out of his slider shorts and jock straps, inhale deeply, and stack them in his sock and underwear drawer. My perversion aside, I feel like his mother in doing his laundry for him, but he goes through so much laundry to play baseball that I know he'll be cussing under his breath tomorrow when he has to sort out which compression short or which jock is the most dry and smells the least rank, to wear for practice at school. Once I have that wash started for him I put together the wash I wanted to do; greens, greys, tans, and browns.
More than a week ago I called him on the fact that he started stashing his underwear under his mattress. It's taken him a while, but teenage hormones and sexual frustration mixed with finally feeling comfortable in my house has probably finally stopped him from jerking it exclusively in the shower, and got him comfortable masturbating in bed. Just like he showed me back in New Orleans, he actually uses his underwear as cum rags on a regular basis, so after he got back in the habit of making love to his hand in bed, he hid them under his mattress so that I wouldn't see them.
I have a mental inventory of his underwear, even the new ones he bought at Wal-Mart when he asked Paul out for me. Even if I didn't discover them while changing his bed, did he really think I wouldn't notice all his underwear going missing? He knows of my perversion to underwear, so he should have known I'd notice when some of his went missing. Since I casually brought his hiding place for them up, much to his embarrassment, I gather that now every pair goes to bed on his body after a day of wear, and then at some point comes off to catch his seed like usual. Unlike before however, now after being used to wipe up, they get tossed aside for the night, and then dropped in his hamper in the morning.
He creates so much semen that not only last night's, but the pair from the night before are still moist as I rifle through his hamper. I pull out the grey pairs and his green hoodie, dropping the rest back in his hamper for now. I just love going above and beyond by folding his undies and putting them away for him, after washing them for him. He wears them and ejaculates in them. I wash them and fold them. Other than that one pair he left on my bed for me, I honestly don't do anything more than that with them, but he doesn't know one way or the other. It's just a silent agreement now I guess, as he much less minds our clothes being washed together and me handling his intimates than actually having to do laundry himself. Before I send him off to college I'll have to teach him how again, that or teach him how to find another gay boy that will worship him and do this service for him.
Once I have the wash started I have to get my ass going to work. With Bobby Sue and Jackie both being somewhat recently new hires, this is the first inventory I've had them help with. Based on what Dee says has been sent to her, they have screwed up numbers for the sections they were in charge of counting stock for. She's driving from Austin after her shift at the store there so that she and I can go through both with them before the end of the day. Their counts almost give me a shit-fit; so much is missing, until I figure out that Bobbie-sue put her floor counts on the front of the page and stock-room counts on the back, and forgot to add them together. Jackie on the other hand forgot about a few locked shelves below the current top-ten display.
By the time we get home I can hear Tim snoring as I walk past his room to change my bed for Dee to use, so I don't bother to wake him and ask him what the hell was up earlier. Instead I just pop downstairs to flip his laundry, and start the wash that I wanted. I boot up the computer and work on an assignment for my economics class. After ten minutes in the dryer I take Tim's jocks out and set them aside until the dryer is done. [He gets all pissy if they lose elasticity from the heat.] When the dryer ends I'm too tired to fold, so I just lay his baseball uniforms out flat over the dryer and flip my wash into the dryer. Fighting with Bandit for space, I crash on the couch. I can't believe I've stayed up till 1:30 in the morning just so that tomorrow I can wear my pair of pants I know Paul likes best.
The army fatigues are in fact a pair Tim bought from an army surplus store and meant to drop off at a thrift store because they got too small for him. They're right up my alley; I used to love them on him back when Daniel and I started dating two years ago. At the time Tim and I were mere acquaintances but I thought his jock-boy ass looked best in them of all his pants. Now I own them and they are so incredibly comfortable. They're my second favourite pair of pants, next to a pair of jeans I also inherited from Tim. Yeah, with his blessing, after cutting the legs an inch shorter and purposely fraying the bottoms, the well-worn [near threadbare in places] and perfectly faded Hollister's are my all-time favourite pair of jeans. I am proud that my butt too looks quite appealing in both pairs of pants!
Before falling asleep I remember that Dee is staying over and I've left Tim's intimates on display in the laundry room. Gathering them, I quietly open Tim's door just enough to hang his almost dry jocks on the inside of the doorknob and steal a look at my naked friend laying peacefully half-covered under his sheet before carefully closing it. I want to wake him and tell him not to worry about the transfer-students from the other school, but it's extremely late and Ma will give me heck if she hears me bothering Tim. After grabbing a blanket from the linen closet I strip to my boxer briefs and poke Bandit enough to get him to vacate the couch for me to sleep on.
In the morning Tim wakes me as is almost custom. Yes, I still like to ignore my primary alarm, the electronic one that is. I am lazy and I know it. Not that my alarm would do me any good this morning as it's in my room and I slept in the living room. As I gather my wits about me I notice that he has the book in his hands.
"I guess this isn't a secret anymore. You once asked me my deepest darkest secret. Well, this isn't it either, but still, prepare yourself," He says, taking a deep breath and flipping over the cover. I crack a smile, a huge one. It's a photo portfolio. More specifically a portfolio of him. He quickly flips page by page and I am witness to pictures of him in all kinds of poses and states of dress. He skips over a group of pages and I put my hand in the way. He just nods at me and says, "near-nudies."
"Have you ever modeled then?" I ask.
"Yeah. I was in a few K-Mart ads in grade 8 for shorts, and tried again last year. I have good legs apparently but never a face shot. I just submitted some copies yesterday for a milk ad. Really, it's nothing and hardly pays much, but with my 8-pack now Giorgio Armani and Calvin Klein should be knocking down the door any time. Like right after I get my next rejection from Abercrombie and Finch!"
"I love your face, there's nothing wrong with it."
"To you. Apparently there is something wrong with it to them I guess."
"What do they know?"
"Yeah well, whatever. No one knows this. Not even Mackenzie, Sam, or Will. No one. Only my parents, and now you. I'm not going to bribe you with telling everyone that you and Hunter are an item or anything, but I expect you won't tell anyone about this. I'd never live it down."
"You tried out for Abercrombie and Finch?"
"Yeah, got to keep a bunch of clothes from them and a suggestion that maybe I try being a shoe model or something. L.L. Bean was interested, my agent might have an in there for me. Someone she knows, knows someone else or something. Most times it all amounts to a lot of nothing."
Remembering the pants I am going to be wearing today I insist, "Your ass is your best asset. Those All-American globes could increase the sales of anything they wore. Fuck, you know I'd buy them second hand and worn in from you."
Tim sighs, "Yeah, but you're biased. And I wouldn't charge my favourite fan for anything off of my body that you'd idolize anyway. Hell, after fighting me at first, how much of my clothes has made its way into your closet? Even stuff that my mom bought me for back-to-school this year!"
"Yeah, yeah, my stuff, your stuff. I only wear it because you encourage me to. And hey, stroking your ego should be payment enough! You're always welcome to anything you like in my dresser. Besides, now that I'm partly out of it, I'd appreciate it if you stay out of my closet! There's nothing else for you to see in there. Nothing you'd want to see, anyways," I jest.
"Blame yourself for that. You're the one that gave me the ego, that is. You with the gentle features that the girls like and the boys wish they had. Friendship aside, if I were into boys, you'd be in my top two. If I'm letting all my secrets go, you might as well know I have a bit of a man-crush on Johnny Depp. Point being, you're hardly hard to look at yourself, and you put me on such a high pedestal. As for your closet, just remember I love you, so let this stay in my closet, okay?"
I thumb through the pages again. Tim gets antsy as I near the racy pictures. I ignore him. He probably knows that I'll just find the book and look at them when he's not around if he doesn't let me look at them now. At least this way with him present he can be sure that the pages don't get sticky on account of me! They're pretty PG actually, soft-core porn at worst. Being Tim, he's wearing a baseball uniform in different poses, starting from just the shirt unbuttoned and hanging open, to ones in his sliding shorts sitting real low on his hips, down to ones in just his jock. Then there are a couple of him in a very skimpy bikini-brief, one in front and one from behind, followed by a few strategically unrevealing poses of him naked on a couch. Man I wish I had his body; all tall, tight, and built. Nothing bulky, just an extreme example of a teenage male entering his prime.
"Thanks. Go get me your wet gitch and a give me couple minutes alone now?" I joke as I close the cover and hand the portfolio back to Tim. He rolls his eyes at me and shakes his head. I quickly add, "Oh and don't worry, you know I'm good for keeping secrets. Even when it's obviously not a secret anymore!"
Taking the portfolio back from me, he rolls his eyes, "Yeah, as if I didn't know you like the boys! But you're right, you did keep your secret!"
I don't bother jerking off in the shower before school. The contents of the portfolio are nothing I haven't seen firsthand by now, in fact I've seen the whole monty on a few occasions. On top of that I feel ashamed at even the thought of it. Not that I couldn't overcome the shame pretty easily, but I'm kinda proud that my subconscious is actively telling to respect my friend, and to be faithful to my boyfriend.
On the way to school I tell Tim, "Oh, I talked with Larry last night about the transfer students. He said not to worry, there are rules that prevent the guys from competing for our school in anything for a year, kay."
"I know. Coach Cody gave us all a huge lecture last night about hazing and told us that if we do anything on any of our school or other teams and we are subject the law. I guess those guys had something a little too sexual done to them that crossed way over the line."
Horny gay teenager here, of course I perk up, "Sexual? Like what?"
"I don't know, just the usual pranks. Not that I'm all for it, but we all went through it. It's just part of making a team. It sounds like a parent couldn't handle guys being guys."
"What do you guys do to each other? Daniel told me the football team makes rookies shave everything, everywhere except their eyelashes. Of course that's after a week of wearing whatever hack job the team does first with clippers. Then if they won't shave everything else on their own, the team does it for them. Like everything! We've seen enough guys with shaved legs, heads and eyebrows to believe it!"
Tim too quickly agrees, "Yeah then, like that."
I can tell Tim is lying by how agitated he gets so I let it slide. Obviously the baseball team goes beyond that.
At school Tim wants to hang with Neil and Tania for lunch, but when we get to the cafeteria Neil is in an argument with Nat, Tania, and Stacey again. Instead he grabs my by the arm to keep me from stopping, and bee-lines us back out of the caf and we head directly to the weight room instead of having a bite to eat first. When we get there Mickey fills us in on this weeks' installment of drama in Neil's world. If the gossip can be believed, Neil has hit Tania at some point in the last day. It looks like anyone that knows Neil today is avoiding him like the plague because Drew Butler is with Ray, Mickey, Tim and I today, and shortly after we get started throwing a medicine ball around, Brent and Justin Liddle also come in with Paul, Wayne and Jackie.
Paul and I get like thirty seconds alone near the end of the lunch period when all the ball players huddle into the team locker room to discuss something that me, Paul, Larry, and the other guys in the weight room are not allowed to hear. He's wearing his glasses today, something he never does. I almost forgot about the time in the summer that I saw him wearing them in the mall. All lunch I've been stealing glances of him and starting to get my shorts dangerously wet with more than perspiration. I love the goof, but am blown away when he looks both ways, takes his cute wire-rim glasses off, and pulls me in for a quick kiss. Talk about dangerous! In the few seconds we have just to us, I tell him to go talk to Larry; that I asked Larry if we can borrow his truck for an hour right after school today if Paul is free. I tell him I didn't mention it is to move the spare crib over.
Larry catches me at my locker between classes and hands me his keys. Cautioning me, it's like he knows what we are up to, "I've come to know you lead with your heart, but you're guided by your head. You two boys are moving at a lightning-quick pace. Faster than I would advise. Be careful Jon."
"From your vantage you're right. But we've been partners in this dance for a lot longer than anyone knows. We may not have spent a whole lot of time together, but trust me, we've been headed this way since before you watched Daniel and me start down our own road two years ago," I defend. I don't go on to fully explain that we've both had a heightened interest in each other for that long as well, or how he makes me feel alive and complete. I know it's a childish argument so I don't even attempt it. That would be about as good as gushing over how good Paul looks when he wears glasses. I would be babbling like a love-drunk idiot! I also again fail to mention the reason we're borrowing the truck is to put a crib in my room.
The idea Paul and I come up with is to tell his parents that he is donating the crib to another single parent through the school, just like Stacey got it through the church. When we get to his house it turns out our worry, and quickly thought up cockamamie scheme, is all for naught as his parents aren't home yet to notice us. Seizing the opportunity, Paul shows me their garage which is set up like a guitar shop, and easily houses a good thirty-plus guitars. A whole bunch of the guitars displayed on stands are left handed and Paul indicates they're all his. He starts throwing out names for them; Renegade, Scorpio, Jester, Viper, Cannonball. It's funny, the house doesn't have an alarm but the garage that doubles as a home studio does. Paul quickly grabs a hard case and throws a shiny iced-tea finished Gibson Les Paul into it, zips the case up and hands it to me. I can only wonder if it is authentic, or a knock-off.
He even makes introductions for us, "Jon, meet Merlin. Before you and Belinda, he was the love of my life. Merlin, this is the new love of my life Jon, he'll treat you good."
Yay! I think? I have now met `Merlin'! He also grabs Windy again, which Tim dropped off Sunday for him. Windy seems to travel more on any given day than I do. As Paul is always coming and going with Belinda in one arm and a guitar in another, he guesses that his parents never even notice which guitars he has and where. Still, as he is sneaking them out, more or less for good, he is very nervous about being questioned, especially when he goes back for an amp.
Before I lose the chance, back in Paul's garage I pull his glasses off and give him a kiss which turns into a long sweet one. Breaking the kiss I mention, "Was the wet-spot noticeable in my shorts at lunch? My, correction, your boxers got a little more wet in the front every time I looked at you!"
"I thought you were hanging my ratty boxers hanging loose off your hips!"
"Yeah. The thing about that is, a little loose or not, they're mine now! Of course I'm wearing them under our favourite pair of my pants! Well, my favourite now that I know they're your favourite."
Paul gets a little bold, "How I'd like to drop them right now and do things to that cute bum in them, maybe even retrieve my boxers and give you a better pair at least, but we have to get going."
I kiss him before we leave his garage again, "No, these are perfect. They've obviously been with you a long time. I'm not getting rid of them until I've at least been with you as long. How old are they anyways?"
"A couple of years at least. Maybe like since grade nine," He says. It's cute that he's embarrassed that we're talking about his underwear.
I clearly have no trouble discussing this subject, "See? We'll call it an even three years. They have lots of life left. When we celebrate our three year anniversary I'll retire them. Of course any underwear you own will be mine by then."
"Really? You, I mean we, we'll share underwear?"
"Why not?"
"Guys do that? That's like, I don't know...weird. I've got six brothers and we never shared. It's just weird."
"No, it's what I figure boyfriends do. If you're slipping your penis in my rectum with any regularity, sharing underwear is hardly as taboo. Just sexy."
"So, like should I start wearing the one's you left on Saturday? What if someone sees? What is someone points out that I'm wearing them?"
I shoot Paul a playful grin, "I'll hump your leg like a good little doggie if you do!"
After a moment to compose himself he replies, "Make it my bum you hump and we have a deal."
I almost swallow my gum, "You want me in you?"
"Sometimes, yeah. We haven't tried it yet, but I'm sure I'll like it because it's you. And if I don't like it, oh well. That's what a boyfriend's for when you feel the urge to, top, as you put it."
"Marry me!" I blurt out.
We laugh the rest of the way to my house. Once we get there we unload the dismantled crib in my room. I comment, "I guess if this doesn't fly, we can maybe take it over to Larry's and stash it in his garage with some of Tim's stuff."
Back downstairs I can see a change in his face as Paul gets an idea. Handing the keys to me he asks, "Are the keys to Larry's house on here? Do you know where his house is?"
I look at the key ring, "Yeah, I think so, and yeah, I know where. Why?"
"Well, if you know where it is, and we have the keys, I was thinking maybe I would stash Merlin there now, before we go back to the school to drop off the truck and grab my car. Maybe if Tim has stuff in the garage there I can hide some of my things there before the end of school so we're set when we sneak away from my family and move to Canada."
By move, I guess he means our hardly-discussed, crazy plan of him running away to go to school in Vancouver, and me applying there too. Looks like we still have to figure that one out, and quick. I wasn't thinking we really were going to do it. Just thinking about it now that I know he's serious about it, I think I'm having my first ever panic attack!
"Um, yeah. Kay," I answer as Paul plops himself down on a chair in my living room just inside from the front door. Seeing him sit there gives me a momentary flash of my dad sitting on that chair, leaning over just like Paul is, to play toy cars with me when I was real young. The hint of a memory warms me and makes me realise I'm not handling things right with my boyfriend. I've regressed back to monosyllabic answers and I feel like a fool all over again, like I did when I first got together with my first boyfriend Daniel. Also like when I first tried talking to Paul. I wonder if he's noticing that I just turtled?
Failing miserably at blocking Canada from my mind, all I can do is look at his feet as he looks at me. It's got my stomach in knots more than I can justify. After carrying his guitars and amp upstairs I venture, "About Canada; you're like one hundred percent set on it?"
Coming back into view as I hit the bottom of the stairs, I can't help but think about how white Paul's teeth are, much whiter than mine, as his smile falters, "One hundred percent. I take it you're not. Give me a number. Are you ninety percent, fifty percent, ten percent?"
Ouch, that's a low blow with the ten percent. This is my first time seeing Paul dead-serious. Looking at his glossy pink lips pursed together rather than into his lively green eyes, I scratch my ear and answer, "Well, more than fifty/fifty I guess."
I get to see him annoyed for the first time, "Fuck me! Fifty/fifty? You guess? This is serious."
Fuck you? Seriously, did you just order me to fuck you? Looking as hot as you do with those cute-as-a-button glasses on? Kay, I can make an exception and top if you want! I know this isn't the time to say something witty though. I feel like I've just let him down huge, "I know. Serious as a heart-attack."
"And you're fifty/fifty. How much more than fifty/fifty are you?"
"I dunno. I'm like a hundred percent on wanting to be with you, and maybe like, ninety percent on wanting to go there, so like a hundred and ninety percent, kay? But I'm also, like, a hundred and fifty percent scared shitless of the whole idea too."
Removing his bright white smile is the first thing I took from his face. Now the corners of his mouth that are usually up-turned are clearly down-turned. He takes off his glasses and looks away from me. He's squinting a little judging by the creases that have appeared in his forehead and around his eyes, "So you're really like only forty percent on the whole idea, not even fifty/fifty."
"Just wait a sec, kay? Like, maybe stop with the numbers! That's a Neil thing that drives me bonkers. Look, I've never said no, I've always said yes. When I think about it, I'm mostly cool with it. I want to go there, and I want to go there with you. But like, when you're so sure of it and I'm worried, I just flipped-out a little inside. Aren't you scared a little too?"
"No, I'm excited!"
I can't hold back, "You're not scared at all?"
"A little, but that'll make the whole experience more fun. What are you worried about?"
"Kay, it's like this. You know your mind and you're confident with your decisions. You have a ton of self-confidence. Me, although people think I dress like a fashion victim every time I even try something different, I worry every day over what I'm going to wear and who's going to say something about it. Vancouver isn't just a question of do I really want to wear this studded dog collar today or not. Fuck, I haven't made that mistake at school twice, once was enough. Vanilla. Fit in. Rock T's are as hard-core as I dare. So if you're getting my drift, status quo in Houston is my safety blanket. It's been safer to just dream about getting away and think of it as a dream than to actually plan it. It's like a million miles away from home and I've only been away from home like once really," I offer.
I could go on and tell him that I'm afraid of being a second father to Belinda who I've really yet to meet other than seeing her asleep, and what if we break up? I'm not even talking about what we'd do for living arrangements and stuff, more like how will I go on now that I've too easily let him become my whole world.
I'm surprised that we're so close to being on the same wavelength, "You think I'm not afraid of that? I've never really been far from home either. Plus I have Belinda to worry about too. And not just that, but we're running away, like I'm almost kidnapping her even though the ink is drying on the papers that give me full custody and sever Stacey's rights. Then I worry about money and how I'm ever going to go to school and work, and still be a father and a boyfriend. I already worry if you're going to run away from it all once we all get together there. I worry about that and a whole lot more. Maybe it's because it's all I have to hope for, but I don't think that's it. The whole idea of living there with Belinda, and with you by our sides, excites me. I dream about it every day."
"Kay. We'll see how you feel about me and guys after we've had sex," I say, trying to joke.
Paul blushes, "I'll feel a whole lot better than I do after slipping condoms over penis-sized objects from the bathroom and using them in the shower."
"Oh my lord! You didn't just say that!"
Avoiding eye contact by putting his glasses back on, Paul quietly acknowledges, "Yup. I just said that."
"What do you use? Why?"
"Because even though you said you want to get a lot more than you want to give, when you want to give, I better be ready for it or else you might want to give it to someone else."
I can feel myself blushing now too, "No way! I can't think of a pair of cheeks I've wanted to slip in between more than yours!"
"See? You said you want to be the one getting it, but you do want to put it in me! I had to get used to it for you."
"Don't worry, every time I look at the bulge in your front I feel the urge to rip off my pants and let you have me. Bend me over, do me however you want, as long as I get to look at your face when you cum inside me and know that I helped cause that euphoria."
"You want me to shoot it in you?"
It's a little embarrassing to actually say and I can feel the heat rise in my cheeks, but he won't know what I'm comfortable with and what I'm not if I don't tell him, "In my ass, in my mouth, on my face; toes, wherever you want. Anywhere at all other than in my ears, eyes, or nose. Mix it up. No pressure, but I can't wait until we get married enough to ditch the condoms, kay! So now, what objects do you use as practice for my cock?"
"Not going to answer that, and I hate the word cock. It's so dirty. No condoms eventually, but I can't wait until we have sex the first time; my penis in you, or your penis in me."
"Me either! So, um, my question earlier about the wet spot in my shorts and underwear at lunch, the reason I asked is because you look totally hot with glasses. Some guys can wear them, some guys can't. You can! Like cause-me-a-boner-all-day wear them! What's with them today anyway?"
"I've had a couple of really late nights with Queen B. I've messed up her whole sleep pattern something good lately, so when she finally settles I've fallen asleep with my eyes still in two nights in a row now. They were just to irritating to possibly wear this morning. Normally I'm good with them, like I never even have to take them out for sports 'cause they fit so well."
"Yeah I hate it when I fall asleep with my eyes still in too! What do you mean, your eyes?"
"It's a stupid joke between me and my brother James; he calls my contacts my eyes."
"Oh," I say as he stands up and kisses me. We've had our first little spat and he's still in love with me. Penises will be put places soon enough, for now we settle with sticking our tongues in each other's mouths and our hands all over each other's bodies.
Judging by both our states of arousal, when Paul tries to break things off, he may have a hard time driving Larry's truck back to school. Looks like soon enough just got here. Against his protests of not enough time, I push him back towards the living room and tug his pants and boxers down in one pull, belt and all. Before he can do anything I dive onto him. Once my lips have wrapped around his rather long head, he forgets how to protest.
I pat the chair he was just sitting in and he gets the idea to sit back down on the somewhat plush cushion. He escapes my mouth as he sits so I put a finger to his lips and dictate, "Let it happen. When you're ready to cum, just let it go in my mouth, kay? Don't bother warning me, I'm sure I'll know you're ready so please don't ruin it by pulling me off to ask if I'm sure. You have my full and willing consent ahead of time; yes, on this I'm one hundred percent certain I want you to ejaculate in my mouth. Just enjoy, kay?"
I get right back to giving him a fast and furious blow job. I still can't deep throat too well yet so I use my hand on his base and his balls, and latch my other hand firmly in his crotch with a couple fingers slipping backward into his crevice, curling up against his anus but not penetrating it.
He doesn't last long at all as his knees buckle and he falls forward on me, burying his head in my cheek and unloading in my mouth. When he comes back to this world from his state of euphoria I promise him, "That was just to get you off quickly. Don't worry, it can be way better than that, and I do like to usually take my time."
Paul is seeing stars, I think as he tries to pull me up off of my knees, "Ah shoot, this'll definitely make me late for work, but hurry, get your pants down."
Instead I pull his pants back up for him, "Nope. Lots of time later for that. And only after I give you a real slow and loving one first. I just want you to know that we'll figure this out. I'm with you and you're just going to have to be patient while I get my head around Canada. Now let's go so you're not late, I'll get the crib together tonight and your guitars and stuff over to Larry's one night this week."
"Thanks then, I guess. For the, you know," He says and kisses me.
I counter, "No, Thank you for letting me show my love for you! Besides, it wasn't just all about you. Believe me, it was my pleasure!"
).:.(<<
PAUL
Tonight is the big plunge. Four weeks into my relationship with Jon I'm going to do it; I'm going to sleep with a boy for the first time! After my first ever blow-job it's all I can think of. Oh man, I am so nervous. All day it's been right here with me, at school and at work. Not in the back of my mind either but front and centre. I can hardly concentrate on anything else. As a cashier tonight and I've screwed up so many times that my supervisor Patty must think I'm on crack or stealing. Even though I have keys for the register and fixed my own mistakes, it shows up on my cash-out. I'm sure it'll get back to my dad at some point how much of a spazz I am tonight. Oh well.
Immediately following my Friday night shift I drive home and call Jon at work. After packing Belinda up I drive over to Jon's work and we go to his place to drop Belinda off. Jon watches her as Tim Matthews follows me back home so I can keep my promise and get the car back to James for the night as payment for him babysitting Belinda for me tomorrow. I've been listening to Jon's Tesla CD exclusively in my car, figuring out the parts so I might be able to play them for him. To me, a couple of the songs are so him, so gentle and beautiful yet complex and spontaneous, and most of all they are uplifting. James is waiting for me when I get back home. Even without my car I'm not sure how Jon's ma and Mr. Maynes are not going to find out that I'm staying over. Somehow they may not have seen the crib Jon put together after school Monday, but when they spot me and Belinda in the morning they're going to figure things out in one helluva hurry.
Tim just has this big 'ole dopey grin on as he opens the door of his white mustang for me from inside. I am shaking like a leaf as I put on my seat belt after falling into his bucket seat.
Tim points out, "Dude, you're nervous!"
"Yeah. I think I love him Tim. I can't believe this is happening," I stammer.
"Good for you then, both of you. He deserves to be loved. And so do you Mikey," Tim says after a long silence.
I can't believe that Tim even remembers when he, Jackie, Wayne and I used to pretend we were the 4 Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. I was Michaelangelo to his Raphael. That was when he first moved to the neighborhood. Wayne was Donatello, Jackie was Leonardo, Neil was Splinter, Drew was Casey Jones, and Nat used to be April O'Neil. Ah, the innocence we had then.
We drive most of the way to Jon's listening to perhaps the longest rock song ever made. I comment on it and Tim points out, "Yeah, this is my ride, but it's Jon's stereo. I gave up on listening to what I want to hear long ago. It's like five minutes to school, but he has a CD ready every day, just look at the pile in the backseat. Since he took me to an Iron Maiden concert it's his personal mission to make me like them. They're certainly no Offspring. Or Linkin Park; you probably haven't heard them yet, but they're all Jon's playing right now since their CD came out a month ago. I like it, but he's played it so much that I'm actually playing Maiden on purpose. In the end Jon wins anyway; the little bugger got me hooked on Iron Maiden after all. This one's called Rhyme of the Ancient Mariner. It's pretty epic."
We again share silence listening to the song until Tim turns off his car in the driveway, "Well Hunter, don't let Farrows know I offered you this tidbit of advice, but you can say no. You don't have to do anything you're not comfortable with."
"I want to sleep with him," I inform.
"No shit? I never clued in to that one Hunter! No, I mean the things that happen when two lovebirds sleep in the same bed. Use your imagination, it may involve a dick or two, and a cute little ass or two. Um, scrap the cute part. More specifically your dick in his ass," Tim stops as I pick my jaw up off of my lap, "Fine. Never mind. I won't go any farther than to tell you for future reference that he wets himself over guys in jockstraps, especially you, when you hide your cup under pinstripes. Just watch out if he ever gets his hands on yours, he'll never give it back!"
`He's already got a shirt, an undershirt, and boxers from me!"
"I've seen. Your shirt has been his lounge-around-the-house shirt all week and he pointed out that he was wearing your boxers to me. And don't forget your socks, he has those to worship now too!"
"Does he tell you absolutely everything?"
"What, like your first ever blow job and how you were blushing something fierce, and how hot it made you look? About how you two locked eyes when you exploded and how cute and gentle you two were afterwards, or how he's over the moon that things didn't get weird after it? No, he doesn't tell me everything. He said I wouldn't believe him if he told me what your cum tasted like anyways."
"Oh my god, he does tell you everything! Please don't think I'm sick Tim. I can't help feeling this way, I really tried, but no one has ever compared to how he makes me feel," I plead.
Tim pats my shoulder, "Relax Hunter, your secret's safe with me. I'm still not telling anyone. To be honest in fact, when he gets going it's infectious. I almost wish you were my boyfriend. Well, except for your man parts. But seriously, I can safely promise you that my boy Farrows loves you too. I'm sure he'll play nice, but I can't promise he won't bite!"
"Thanks," I squeak out, holding my rosary in hand.
I don't know how to act all of a sudden. Somehow Tim Matthews never fit into my daydreams of how this would come about. Sure he's Jon's best friend and living with him, but somehow I always envisioned Tim kicking my ass if he knew I was sleeping with his friend. I certainly didn't expect him to wholeheartedly condone it, nor did I ever expect him to be reassuring me that it's okay.
I remember he was a nice guy when we were friends years ago, but I didn't stay close enough to him through most of high school to really know what he'd think. I just figured like any other male Texan teen who chases girls, that he'd be a homophobe. As high school went on I only knew Tim through baseball, and I just figured he was like all the rest of the guys from baseball over the years that tried to out me, all macho and homophobic and whatnot. It's funny how life works out some times.
I am out of the car, in the door with my shoes off and Belinda in my hands and I don't really even remember getting out of Tim's Mustang. I can distinctly make out Kiss's MTV Unplugged CD playing quietly on the stereo. There is a soft light washing into the hallway from somewhere inside Ms. Farrow's bedroom door. Mr. Maynes isn't home from Friday night football yet, which is a good thing I guess. Looking into the living room, it too is softly aglow with the light from two cardboard lamps and the ambient flicker and scent of Glade strawberry-vanilla candles. Ms. Farrows, Charlene, is the one that hands me Belinda, commenting about how calm Belinda is and how she wished that at least one of her three daughters had been that way.
I can't believe that she has taken to calling Jon one of her `three girls'. Searching Jon's face I don't catch any reaction to it at all so I thank Charlene for her praise of Belinda. I guess that is the socially correct thing to do. I'm not quite sure she knows Jon and I intend for me to sleep over. I don't know what to say as she invites me into the living room.
She moderates a discussion between Jon and I. Did I know Daniel Rice too? Do I know Chris? How did Jon and I meet? How am I gay but still managed to have a biological daughter? Is Belinda in fact my biological daughter? What is my faith? Do I still practice? How can I practice a faith that condemns me? We've talked before, but never really broke the surface of who we are. She explains how Jon has opened her eyes and she is not finding answers she can accept in her church and is questioning her faith currently. She adds that she'd never bring this liberal view up outside her own home because she fears the backlash it would create. We've never talked about it but I assume the Farrow's are Christian. I certainly haven't seen them at the Baptist church I attend.
Charlene gets up when the CD player switches from Kiss to Whitesnake, turns the stereo off, and announces it's time she gets some rest. Jon agrees, only Charlene doesn't realize that means all of us and that I'm not leaving tonight. As I settle Belinda into her crib Jon slips out of the room to put out the candles downstairs and to turn off the light in the hallway. My heart is racing worse than it ever had when I've been up to bat in any championship game I've ever played in. I can barely hear the echo of Tim's deep voice on the phone in the next room over the blood rushing through the back of my neck. I think I'm going to have a heart attack.
When Jon comes back into his room and closes the door I am mesmerized by the poster on the back of it. It's now somewhat a panoramic poster of a tropical beach and water. The poster isn't all that interesting, I recall it being bigger when it was a promotional poster in his music store for some sales promotion or other. With the actual advertisement cut away from the picture, it's what's on the poster that catches me. I hadn't noticed it before. In a gothic calligraphy hand done with a sharpie marker I'm assuming, the lyrics to The Who's `Behind Blue Eyes' are superimposed in front of the beach and ocean.
Jon reaches for me and I flinch. I grab his hand from my shoulder and wrap it and his arm around my body. He hugs me tightly as I lean my head back onto his shoulder. He starts to nibble on my earlobe a bit. I turn to face him and our lips lock in a sensuous kiss. Soon our tongues are playing together as we embrace each other. I think Jon can feel my heart pounding in my chest. He slips his hands under my shirt and proceeds to slide it over my head and down my arms.
I can't recall if I put more deodorant on after work. I had the briefest of showers, and I know I forgot to put my Aqua Di Gio on. They say a skunk never smells itself, so I can't help but hope my pits don't smell! Jon kisses me on my breastbone, around the level of my nipples. His lips never leave my body as his mouth explores it's way all over my chest as he outlines my subtle pectorals.
He instinctively goes for my collarbone and is rewarded when we both discover the reaction it evokes in me. He gently massages my erection through my pants as his tongue and teeth head to the nape of my neck. I start grinding into his hand as he lightly bites and licks at some hyper-sensitive spots. He continues up the side of my neck to my right ear and then repeats up my neck on my left side to the base of my ear. His touch is electric. I gasp and sigh at every new sensation.
Tim was probably joking when he said he couldn't guarantee that Jon won't bite. I hope he doesn't have first-hand knowledge that Jon is a nibbler! Just about now, if I wasn't being seduced by my boyfriend's touch, I'd pop into the next room with a shit-eating grin just to let Tim know that Jon does bite and it feels so damn amazing! Shoot, I'd love to give Stacey a video tape of this and tell her to take notes. She never even tried to give me any pleasure like this, it was all about her. Not that I'm ever going back to any girl again, let alone her.
Jon pulls his own shirt up over his head and twists it inside out as he husks it from his body and lets it fall across the floor to the base of his bed. Next he goes for my belt. It's one of those black leather jobs with two metal-ringed holes side by side across its entire length. He very quickly has it open and the top button of my jeans too. The rest of my fly gives him pause as he figures out that these, my best pair of American Eagle jeans, are button-fly style. Soon my jeans are dropping off my legs and the belt buckle makes an impossibly loud noise in the quiet house as it hits the floor. Jon undoes his belt, releases the button on his cargoes and they fall off his body. He's wearing white 2(x)ist boxer briefs that look amazing against his bronze legs, just like the button-fly CK boxer briefs he left at my house last weekend. As he steps out of his pants and strides to the wall to hit the lights I wish I had worn a better label of underwear than my old, employee discounted value-pack Fruit of the Loom boxers.
The light goes out and the room is pitch black, save for a pumpkin-orange LCD display from his alarm clock. Not a lick of light from the window I know to be on the wall there somewhere. He apologizes as my eyes adjust, saying that he needs complete darkness to sleep in because his old room growing up didn't have any windows. He grabs me by the hand and leads me to his bed.
This is it, the moment of truth. He pulls the sheet down and hops in, scurrying over to the wall side of the bed. I can barely make out his form as he pulls his socks off one by one and flings them against his closet door.
I take the moment to take mine off too as I ask quietly ask him, "Can you turn the light back on for a sec? I need to take my eyes out."
Standing with my heel of one foot on the toe of the opposite foot's sock and vice versa I slip my socks off while keeping a hand on his mattress as he gets up to turn the light back on. After I put my contacts in some solution, and set them on Jon's dresser I nod to him that he can flip the switch once more and get back into bed. His hands linger over me as he slips by ne and gets back into bed. Sitting tenuously on the edge of the mattress I stall. He rubs his hands across the bed and whispers that he just changed the sheets.
I can do this. Here I go. I get into the bed and pull the sheet up over us. I'm not cold, but I am shivering a bit all the same. We twist so that we are facing each other and start to make out. My initial nerves quell a little and I get carried away, eventually finding myself towering over Jon with my knees spread on either side of his lower ribs. That puts my butt almost directly above the head of his throbbing erection. From the underside of my bum, right behind my balls, I can feel his penis twitch and fight against its cotton prison.
Slowly Jon's hands trace my body and arrive at their obvious eventual destination; my own erection. He gently massages it but does not slip his hand under my waistband. He realizes I have to give him the green light to do so after he moved too quickly last time. I take his hand and guide it under the waistband. Very gently Jon starts stroking me. I slip my boxers down a bit so that he has better access. He tugs them further until I get the idea that he wants them off. I manage to stay straddled over him and still slip them off. He sits up a bit and pulls me forward. His hand cups my balls. His other hand rests on one of my buttocks, pulling me closer to him. Then I feel it, his warm mouth makes contact with my head. He manages to take me all the way to the base, which is further than he went Monday night. And to boot, he is doing so willingly.
I worry that I am going to shoot right away, but instead last longer than I ever have in any sexual situation that involves more than just me. And this despite getting off on it more than anything else in my life to date! Performance anxiety I suppose. When I am getting close he removes his mouth and searches for something with one hand while his other hand wraps around my shaft and starts stroking. I'm going to assume his rule of just letting it happen from last time still applies. I'm not as experienced as Jon at this but I realize my breathing gives him some sort of indication that I am close. I'm not sure, but whatever he's searching for takes second place when I start spurting time and again onto his neck and chest.
Arching his back, he slips his the waistband of his underwear down onto his thighs and starts frantically pumping his own erection. I feel his body tense beneath me almost right away and hear him softly grunt as he shoots load after load into my wadded up underwear. I'm pretty sure he let a couple shots purposely hit my back and butt. After finishing himself off, he uses the underwear to wipe his neck and chest. The kicker is when he uses his tongue on my backside! He ends things by using my deflated penis as a sucker one last time, getting it nice and clean before we start to make out again.
I think I taste my own cum mixed in with his saliva as we exchange spit. It's an odd sensation and thought. It tastes distinct, but I can't say what it tastes like. Fruity maybe? What the heck did Jon think it tastes like that he doesn't think Tim would even believe? One thing's for sure; where his tongue went between my legs from behind, I'm glad I had a shower for him just in case.
Finally we lay down together and spoon. He is asleep in no time while I don't close my eyes very much the entire night.
In the morning I try to not let it show that I wasn't fully comfortable with the whole sleepover and the sexual play. It's great, but I just have this knot in my stomach for some reason. Part of that may be from when Belinda cried in the middle of the night. I got her quiet quickly with a soother, but while Tim says he never heard Belinda, Jon's ma and Mr. Maynes had to have. They left a note and were gone to Home Depot and breakfast by the time Jon woke, so I'm curious to how that played out. As soon as Tim is up I get him to carefully drive me home while tightly holding Belinda in my arms. Stupid, I know.
I drag myself through the day and after work I head home. My brother James and his girlfriend Sarah have been babysitting for me today. On top of having to bus it to and from work for my measly three hour shift today, out of Sarah's sight I give James a twenty for sitting Belinda. Pocketing my money, he tells me I should probably crash wherever I did last night again because the `parental units' are pissy and Daddy is threatening to force me to put Belinda up for adoption and enlist in the army like all of his other good sons just to get Ma off his ass already.
Blowing off what I guess is my brother's over-dramatization, inwardly I smile to myself wondering if Sarah even knows Melissa, my brother's other current girlfriend, or if they are complete strangers. Outwardly I keep up my lifelong mask of neutrality. When James takes Sarah by the hand to our room after the early college football game on T.V. ends, I know he's planning to fuck her quickly and then send her home so that he can call Melissa.
I grab the phone right away and give Jon a call. I know he's going out with Chris and their friends tonight. I figure that he's already busy with them as he finished work about the same time as me, but I leave a message on his cell phone anyways.
I hope I can stay at Jon's again tonight but it's probably asking too much. His Ma will probably get upset. Maybe the Wilson's will let me stay. Angie, Jackie and Nat's mom, always lets me know Belinda and I are welcome there any time, without any notice. She knows how unreasonable my own Ma has become and set up a crib in their spare room for Belinda. Jackie is usually cool with me crashing in his sleeping bag on his floor. In fact back in September when I stayed for over two weeks he even traded off the bed with me every other night until we finally broke down and just both slept in it together for a few nights before I finally went home. Much like Jon tells me he and Tim have done.
That however, is the most important reason I can't tell Jackie I'm gay. He's a lot more open minded than he'd like people to believe, and I know for a fact that he's gay friendly. Homosexuals are fine in his eyes until they actually affect him I've partially concluded. Even that's up for debate lately the way he talks about Jon to me when it's just us. I think he's actually silently rooting for Jon's happiness.
By the time James sees Sarah to the door I've gotten it in full force from my parents that I need to take responsibility for my life. I blow them off saying the Belinda and I won't be home again tonight. My Ma snaps the I better be wearing a condom this time and my Daddy adds that I better not come home at all if I'm out getting some girl pregnant. They are fucking insane! James has just fucked a girl right under their noses, under their own roof for the umpteenth time without them catching on, and here they are yelling at me. Still it's actually rather ironic, that for all the talk of responsibility, when you really boil it down they are just happy to have me out of the house and out of their hair. Out of sight, out of mind, and they can pretend that their failure of a son hasn't made them grandparents out of wedlock.
When Sarah's gone and Ma and Daddy are done ragging on me James comes back into our room. He's all sheepish. I don't face him. Sometimes words are easier when they're not face to face I tell myself, but my inner voice is just telling me that's a lie and I can't face him because he is straight and gets as much sex as he pleases. I am envious on both counts to be honest. All I manage to say is, "J, change the sheets for me at least this time."
He proudly asks, "How'd you know?"
I can see the smirk on his face in my mind's eye. I know for sure if I turn around I'll see it just as I picture it.
Pulling back the blanket on my bed I point out, "Well, let's see, J. It smells like sex in here for starters."
"No," he interrupts, "It smells like a messy diaper."
"Whatever J, it smells like you're smelly ass armpits were sweating in my bed. Further, my bed's a mess, from you yet again. You don't even pretend to try and make it right for me. And you left your boxers and the condom right there on the mattress this time. I had to cover it up for you just so Ma and Daddy didn't ball me out for that too. You always use my bed for sex because you never change yours and it smells. You only ever change your sheets when you think Melissa will put out for you. What I can't figure out is why you cheat on her in the first place. No, you know what, forget that, I really just wish to God you'd stop having sex in my bed. You even do it when Belinda's in the room no less, sleeping or not."
As much as I love James he's almost too stupid to get mad at. Seriously, he is far from smart and he knows it, "Ya got me P, it does smell like I worked up a good funk too! Since were sharing secrets, I also grabbed the Jimmy outta your drawer for my Johnson too. You know, where we, er, you always stash them. I see you took a couple yesterday too, planed on some action did ya? Thought you were staying at that guy's place? Hey, you finally riding Nat Wilson now, or maybe taking Jackie to a new level of friendship?"
I snipe at him, "Yeah, looks like you caught me too J. Nat, Jackie and I had a good 'ole threesome. I screwed them both until they tied me up, paired off, and cut me out completely. It was so hot. We made a video of it if you want to watch and learn a thing or two from your bro. Get your head checked out J, poking a guy is gay last I checked."
He grabs for my crotch, "Yeah P, gay like you."
"You only wish I were gay J, then you could stop fantasizing it was me you were having sex with when you do it in my bed and actually have me you fucker!" I joke back.
James continues the trash talking, "P, you'd die to have my monster in you but you could never handle my big little man! It's bigger'n yours and I can use it better too."
So like close brothers we trash talk each other until it becomes clear like always that James is no match for me in our war or words. It turns into the next step in brotherly love; wrestling! My younger but bigger brother is a pretty good physical match for me. We have some good tussles and I mostly can hold my own, but when he wins it's almost always because he managed to get me into some sort of submission hold. We are as quiet as can be when we wrestle until one of us gets the other into a submission hold. When we get to this point the trash talking starts again as one of us gets a wonderful view of the carpet, hardwood floor, bed spread, grass, or whatever landscape we battled over.
Currently my face is pressed into my mattress and will remain there until he is satisfied that he is more a man than me. He loves this part; he is a master at gloating. James has me down on my bed in his infallible submission hold, trying to position me so that my face is in his discarded condom. Tonight however, as we wrestle the phone rings. He bolts off of me and answers the phone before the second ring, hoping it's his second lay of the day calling.
Instead he hands me the phone and gives me a jab in the stomach. With a smirk James heads for the door, `Saved by the bell! It's that Jon Farrows guy, your tutor or study partner or whatever. Man you must be as dumb as me after all P!"
).:.(<<
Dear Reader:
I want to see this story to the end, at least the smaller story of Jon and Paul. I vow to. I can't promise any schedule, so if you want to keep up on ItSoOLjoin my free group or watch for more here.
Happy New Year!
~Jade