Copyright © 2013-2014 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.)
Nifty would like our help to continue to provide us with wonderful stories. Please donate if you can. http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html
).:.(<<
In the Shadows of Our Lives Part 2 - Wings of Tomorrow XII ~ In My Time [Time in a Bottle] ~
"I found the strength, I breathing again, And I've told myself I'm still a lucky man.
'Cause when I thought I couldn't start anew, When it's dark a light shines through, In my time I got to love you."
In My Time, by Europe
).:.(<<
TIM
When I get to Jon's house, back from Christmas with my family, the only one to greet me is Bandit. After letting him out in the yard I take a couple of chips from a bag on the counter. I almost spit them out as I try to figure out what kind they are. Ketchup? Huh. I grab a few more while I wait for Bandit to come back to the door.
Bandit follows me as I make my way up to my room to dump the haul I brought back with me. I scan my room for anything out of place or anything noticeably missing. The obvious thing that jumps right out to me is the large poster that Jon took from work and added the lyrics of a song to it. What stands out to me is the huge frame case it's now housed in. I laughingly told Jon all that the poster needed to be complete was a frame and his autograph, and I'd keep it up on a wall wherever I live. Jon also signed the poster right where I said he should.
The poster is like one of those Russian toys with a wooden doll inside a larger doll, inside an even larger one. It has layers to it. What jumps out right away are the lyrics he chose. Over top of a black and white silhouette of a couple holding hands on a beach is the song, written in red. The words leap out at you, and I marvel at the steady hand he wrote with. The style of the letters is really cool and he was consistent from the first letter to the last. The lyrics are simple but perfect for him. The song he wrote should be Paul's and his song. If it isn't maybe I'll make it my song when I get married. Only after scrutinizing his perfect handwriting up close do I notice something new. Stepping back to take the whole poster in, it dawns on me. Not exactly clear from the outline of the couple, focusing on their shadows, I'd bet my last dollar that it's two guys in the poster. Hahaha, Farrows, you sly devil! He had to know I was putting a romantic poster of two dudes on my wall, but didn't point it out.
Going back to scanning my room, beyond the now framed poster, on the bed is a grey t-shit, new with the tags still attached. As I pick it up a thank-you card falls out of it. Huh. The card is from Duncan and has a cool hand-made necklace in it.
Yo Tim!
Thanks, for letting me use your room and bed. That's way cool of you. Jiffy is so lucky that you kick-ass like that. He's right; you're a keeper for sure! Don't worry. I didn't jack it in your room or bed or anything like that! Straight or gay, I wouldn't want some hot stranger spanking his monkey in my bed, at least not without me! :) But back to you; I made Jon clear out your hamper, drawers, and baseball gear to set your mind at ease. I even brought my own pillow so I wouldn't sweat or drool on yours. So yeah, I totally behaved myself.
The necklace is from a little shop in Vancouver that sells hand-made authentic aboriginal jewelry and trinkets. This one is for spiritual tranquility. (Ima be totally honest though; it looks hella sexy on a hot guy. Hope it gets you laid!)
A friend of Jon is a friend of mine, so if you're ever my way, you've got a free place to stay!
Duncan
Picking up the t-shirt, it says Property of Vancouver Canucks. It's a size too small, but that appears to be on purpose. On the tag he wrote to wear it, that it'll look hot on me. The kid is as much a clown as Jon makes him out to be. The only other thing I can see out of place in my room is his green t-shirt layered over a black long sleeve t-shirt, draped over the back of my desk chair. I pick the shirts up and look at them. The t-shirt has the words Kitsilano High School Phys-Ed stenciled on the front in blue letters with a school logo. Separating it from the other shirt, the long sleeve shirt underneath is white with baseball jersey style black sleeves. It features a Southpark character on it, Craig I think, saying `Yep. And if I had wheels I'd be a wagon'.
As I hold the Southpark shirt up to read it, the short sleeve green t-shirt falls out from my hand. I don't know why, but as I pick it up off the floor I bring it to my nose to get a better smell of the faint cologne I detect. The cologne smells good. I'd wear that cologne. The shirt smells fresh and clean. So does the long sleeve one that he wore as a base layer; the armpits smell of deodorant and maybe a hint of sweat, and the neck smells like a guy, just like any of my shirts after a day of wear. I don't know what I was expecting or why I'm surprised; Jon did say his friend is pretty much like me in build and athleticism, just gay. His shirts don't smell gay. He's no different than Jon or Paul, or me, and his shirts don't smell sour like when I get a whiff of Neil. Not that it'll do Duncan any good right now, I toss his shirts in my hamper to be washed.
Looking around the room that I've called home for four months now, I wonder what other secrets it holds that I can't see. Then again, Duncan was probably true to his word and it's just me. A big part of my apprehension in coming back here to finish my high school career here revolves around a secret.
Nothing new here, but the night before I left to visit my family for Christmas, I slept with Jon. He halfheartedly tried to seduce me. I almost said yes out of twisted curiosity, but thankfully didn't. I did playfully grope him, and we did end up spooning with his hand around my stuff. Two very odd experiences. I can't believe his hard-on was between my legs, even if we were both wearing underwear. As we moved around getting comfortable before we fell asleep, if not for the two layers of cotton between us, he was perfectly positioned to enter me a few times. At the same time it both alarmed and grossed me out a little, and yet for some bizarre reason it also gave me an intense sensation that made me want to jack off fast and furious.
So here's the thing. Here's my secret. No, it's not that I'm in love with Jon. I'm not gay, truly. The thought of doing something with a guy weirds me out a little bit. I do love Jon though. In a way. I don't mind him hugging me or offering up one of my just worn jock straps for him to do whatever he desires. It feeds my ego a little that he worships me. Make that a lot. If I ever felt inclined to try it with a guy, Jon would be the one. If I were attracted to him, he already has my complete trust I feel comfortable around him.
Good thing too, he's found my hidden cum-rag underwear, and since he called me on it, I stopped hiding it under the mattress. Instead now I just use whatever pair I'm wearing to bed as my cum-catcher and toss them when I'm done. Jon knows he can find a fresh deposit of my spunk secreted in them near the top of my hamper every morning. A few times he's joked about sampling it, which with him I'm pretty sure is his form of admission. At first I felt a little violated by this, but then that was hypocritical, as I've offered it up to him. A door I opened, an envelope I pushed too far, a monster I created.
Now here's the thing, the real secret. I know I've meandered in getting to it. Sorry. A while back now Jon asked me my deepest, darkest secret. Although I fluffed him off with my birth name and how it traumatized me at the time, I held tight to my real secret. It's a two-parter really. However it's not something for for him to know. In time maybe. It's about a girl. A girl that not only gave me constant erections for three years at school, but she makes me act and feel so stupid. In her presence my head swims, my chest gets tight, and I get anxious and panicked. In short, I act like a spastic cheesedick around her. I don't know how Jon would take it if I finally told him about her.
Seriously, how would he feel if I told him that the day Tania, Neil and I came over to save Jon from his pity-party over Daniel, I was hoping to use it as a way to get a chance to talk to his sister? How would he feel if my plan was to use him as a way to get Candace to notice me? How would he feel if I weren't such a chicken-shit and managed to talk to her, and maybe even started dating her? But that ship sailed. Literally. I had six months to do something, anything. Instead I cowered around her until almost the last moments and dedicated a whole ton of near-daily masturbations to her. Not all were for her, sometimes they're just for stress relief, other times they're for other girls, but probably more than half of my self-induced orgasms throughout high school were for her. So you see, if I were to ever have done anything with Jon, it would be seeing here face while I looked upon his. That's the confusion I spoke of earlier when I said I was confused that night in bed with Jon.
As a consolation to Candace and my inability to act until it was too late, in Jon I've found the best friend I've ever known. Now I wouldn't want to trade a date with her for my best friend any day. And still, it doesn't stop me from wanting both, however. If I got to sleep with her enough, it would all be about me and her in bed, and I could forget about the sexual tension between Jon and me and I really could just be best friends with him still. I know I could. But would he be mad at me for liking his sister?
Getting back to that night, I somehow managed to fall asleep with his throbbing hard-on pressed into my cheeks and the back of my balls. I think it's a safe bet that if it weren't for our underwear between us, he would have tried to enter me. The tingle between my legs when Jon nestled his engorged penis between my thighs and subtly rubbed it around for good measure? Yup, that's my newest secret.
Now my new deepest, darkest secret, I've discovered, is that the feeling of something there gets me off. I don't even know why, but with the tingling I was experiencing, really feeling inside, the strange primal anticipation my body was conveying, if I had slept the whole night with Jon I almost fear I would have fished a condom from his drawers and made him use it.
For the life of me, at that moment I was getting so perversely horny, if he tried to initiate something I can honestly say I might have at least turned the tables and pushed myself between his tiny butt cheeks and pounded him for all I was worth. The thought scares me and gave me a lot of self-reflection to do over the holidays.
What I've come up with is first, that I was feeling sad and lonely over a lot of different things, and I'd just listened to him and Paul have sex together for their first time less than 24 hours ago. I was confused and jealous.
Second, and this is the worrisome part; I'm not gay. I don't want to be gay. But, maybe my prostate is gay? Like, maybe I'm one of those guys that likes a little back door play from his girlfriend. Maybe even someday a strap-on with the girl I marry if she's open minded. But the whole idea freaks me out and I'm just going to shut it down and store it in some dark recess of my psyche for later. It's too big a blow to my ego. Hopefully the whole thing just goes away. Maybe it's not even my prostate. Maybe it's only my perineum. One thing for sure, this is a new secret I'm not telling Jon.
And third, I'll chalk that up mostly to my unintentional celibacy. Man I need to get laid again! I'm almost eighteen and I've had sex with one girl six times, all in the span of 24 hours, give or take.
Yes, it was the girl of my dreams. The one I talk to on the phone almost nightly, and on occasion that she's not on a satellite phone from the ship, have phone sex with. The one that I masturbate to the rest of the time after getting off the phone with her. Candace was my first and only, one night when I was headed to New Orleans by way of Panama City, Florida. When she hitched a ride, we had sex three times the first night, and a repeat performance the next night.
Nat never meant anything to me that way. Especially after what I had with Candace. Sex was everything I expected, and more. And that it was with her? The thought gets me hard every time. And I can't have been too shabby myself. With all the guys on the ship, the tourists and locals she encounters, she still calls me every night she can, and she talks dirty to me about our encounters while getting herself off. Jon's sister was my deepest, darkest secret, the biggest one I can't tell him about.
I wonder if the note from Duncan is the truth, or did he jack it on my bed? I expected he would. Either way I guess it's no matter to me. When you think about how many hotel beds I've been in over the years for travel teams, and all the different kinds of sex those beds have had played out on them, I long ago resigned myself to the fact that fresh sheets fix everything. Then again, this is my private and personal bed. I wonder what else he did in my room? Did he worship my stuff like Jon? Probably not, he probably was true to his note. A guy that's considerate enough to bring his own pillow so as not to drool on mine, probably didn't jack it in my bed either. Then again, this is the same guy that intentionally left me a one-size-too-small t-shirt to show off my body in.
Maybe I'll email him some time, send him some money and have him mail me a few bags of those chips.
).:.(<<
JON
The very day Tim is home I make good on my promise to him to spend some `us time'. That evening I take him out on a date. Well, not a date, more of a guy's night. I make him suck up his pride and we go bowling.
Feeling eminently confident in his athleticism, he wants to place a wager on our game as I pop a new CD of songs Duncan burned for me into his car deck, "Bet I can kick your ass. What do you say? Want to make this interesting?"
"How so? What do you have in mind? What are the stakes," I answer.
"If I win, I get control of my car radio back," Tim proposes.
I'm actually pretty confident I can beat him. This is the bowling alley Lacey still works at. Up until Daniel came into my life and I pulled away from my family, Ma, Candace, Lacey and I would play for free here almost weekly.
I confidently accept his challenge, "Well neither is very likely. You beating me, or getting to control the radio in your car. I guess I should demand something as completely outrageous and unrealistic...kay, got it...sure, if you win you get to play whatever music you want. If I win, you get to cook me a dinner. Candles and everything. Burnt Kraft Dinner isn't going to cut it either. I mean like, actually cook."
Tim takes his hand from the gear shift and pinches my cheek, like stereotypical grandmothers do on T.V. shows or in movies, "Romantic dinner for two? You're on!"
When we get to bowling Tim's not very good. I'm not great, but not bad. By the time the crappy pizza we order gets to the table at our lane, Tim's figured this out, "You suck!"
"And swallow," I agree.
Tim mock covers his ears, "Too much information!"
I try to pry his hands but he's stronger. When he's declared victory and removes his hands from his ears I comment, "Oh, we both know you love all the sordid little details, 'kay. I'm like your soap opera!"
"Not all the details. Just the fun ones," Tim admits, "So things going good with Hunter? Did Duncan distract you or did you drool over him?"
Grabbing a piece of pizza and fanning it to cool it, I share, "No. It was all good. Dunny teased both Paul and me, like really good, but he was really careful not to cross any boundaries. And Paul and I could have been a little less in his face. We got carried away with Duncan being so easy going and well, being gay around him. We kept the whole house up one night I think. We thought we were being quiet. Having Duncan here threatened Paul a bit I think, so he made sure to lay claim to me."
"How so," Tim asks through a full mouth.
"Well, he was a lot more touchy. He'd hug me more, and hold me tighter. And like I said, we had some fucking good sex. Great sex. Mind blowing. He lasted two hours and I thought it was maybe like twenty minutes. Forget I said that. I uh, I mean he's, um, really good," I trail off sheepishly.
Tim gets up to bowl, "And like me, Duncan had to hear you guys?"
I wait for his ball to go into the gutter before answering, "Uh, yeah. He teased us a bit for fun, but it didn't bother him. I wish you got to meet him. He's wound like the Energizer Bunny on one hand, but he's exactly like you on the other hand. He can be the class clown for fun when he wants to be, and always lightning quick with the banter, but he's like calm, zen, mature, really deep. He's really thoughtful and intuitive."
"You have a crush on him?"
"A bit. You should see his body. It's a cross between me and you. Like, if I put on some more muscle I'm never going to get your stock. My frame is too small. He's your height, almost your frame, but all his muscles are more compact. You're more my type. You and Paul. But I do have a friend crush on him more like the way I have one on you. I'm going to miss you so much next year and I already feel bad because I know I'm going to latch onto him to fill your void. They don't have a baseball program that you're interested in there huh?"
"I wish. I'm pretty settled now on Indiana unless Notre Dame comes through, but I doubt it. There's nothing in Canada for me and the only thing out that way I'd even consider is Oregon, and I'd rather not," Tim says with an apologetic shrug.
"This sucks! In half a year I'm going to lose you," I state as I throw the ball for a split.
"There's still such a thing as a phone," Tim says as I pick up my second ball.
"I know, and online chatting," I begin to say and then roll the ball straight down the middle and miss the remaining pins, "But it's not the same. I'm just really going to miss you is all. I'll have Paul, which is awesome, and I'll know Duncan and another guy couple that we hung out with last week, if they go to school there. But I wouldn't be here right now if it weren't for you, 'kay. You, Neil and Tania. Like, I'd probably be in a hospital for depression if you especially hadn't slapped me around and taught me it's okay to be me."
At my mention of Neil and Tania, Tim suggests, "Maybe we should invite them? We've got the lane for two and a half more hours. I guess it's time to bury the hatchet? You think?"
I quickly grab my phone, "Yeah. That'd be cool."
I can see Tim is guardedly happy to patch things up with Neil. They were best friends for years before Tania stole Neil and I stole Tim. I'm happy too, I miss them. Tim seems a little apprehensive but mostly relieved when Neil calls me back five minutes later and says he and Tania are both on their way.
Before our friends meet us at the bowling alley, Tim lets out a brooding sigh, "I guess with you having a boyfriend and us both planning for college, I need to change a couple of our arrangements."
This blindsides me, "Uh oh. Like what?"
Holding up his 16 pound bowling ball in front of his face to block eye contact, Tim explains, "I don't know how to do laundry. In theory, I do, but I've never done it. You have to stop doing my laundry for me, for real, or I'm going to be one smelly guy next year."
"And..." I say, sensing there's more.
"And I know you have an underwear thing, but maybe just play with Paul's and not mine from now on? That's something I know I started, but it just doesn't seem...right."
I'm embarrassed, but he's right, "Done. I've been weaning myself from that already. And mostly, it was just talk anyway."
"Mostly?"
"Yeah, mostly."
"Can you stop?"
I concede, "Yeah. I'm past that stage now. Since you got Paul and me together, I only really washed your stuff and put it away for you. Even that felt like cheating on Paul."
"Okay."
"Okay. But...If you're interested in making some money Duncan did show me this site where guys take pictures of themselves and sell their stuff. You could do that and buy new stuff with the money. Just think of it like modeling clothes."
"Those few times were fully clothed, for a department store. I'm not a model, and I'm not selling my underwear on the internet," Tim downplays himself.
"Well, I still think you should be an underwear model all the same, but for once I wasn't just talking about that. You can sell pretty much anything from your ball caps right down to your socks and shoes," I offer.
"Thanks for the compliment, again," Tim says with a wink and a fake kiss, "But really, who would even buy another guys' used clothes?"
"Lots of people. Just an idea. I don't think everything you brought back from Christmas is going to fit in your closet when you decide to put it away, and now that I have Paul's clothes to share I don't need yours."
Tim doesn't understand, "You don't need anyone's. You have enough of your own. You're not that poor you know?"
I let out a deep breath and explain a couple things I'm beginning to finally understand about myself, "I know. It's not a money thing, 'kay. It's hard to explain so just bear with me and hear me out. Something finally clicked for me that day I didn't come to school. When I did, I told Larry something or other about when he and Ma fell for each other or whatever, the thing he has to remember is that what brought them together in the first place is that I'm just a little fucked in the head."
"No you're not. No more than anyone else," Tim objects.
"Yeah, I am. At least a little. Mainly I have attachment issues, in case you are blind and missed that obvious one. Blame it on my dad dying when I was young if you want. Really though, I think I was socially anxious even before that, 'kay. Did you know Larry almost has a PHD in psychiatry?"
Tim nods, "Yeah, he's talked me through a few situations."
"Kay. Well, we had a serious talk just after Christmas. He doesn't think I fit into the autism spectrum, which I'd kick his ass for if he did, but he pointed out a few quirks and tendencies I have that are strikingly close to it."
Tim slaps my chest and almost dies of laughter, "You'd kick his ass?"
"In my head, yeah. Now that I know him, he's all plush-toy Hulk, not scary big muscle Hulk like I first thought. I know he bench presses like your and my weight combined, but he goes to bingo with Ma and have you ever seen a bigger suck with Bandit, the way he picks him up and talks to him?"
This makes Tim laugh even more. Between fits of giggles he points out, "He could throw you around like a rag doll. You don't weigh much more than your dog and you just said how easy Larry picks him up."
"Anyways, not the point. We're way off track here, 'kay. One of the things I've come to realize is that when I feel emotionally close to someone, I keep a part of them close to me and find a sense of security in it. Like your school team baseball hat that you were keeping as a souvenir, the one you gave to me. Only with your hat, not that I'm a hat guy in the first place, I never want to wear it because I don't want to get it dirty. But I look at that hat every day and feel good, because it's a physical representation of your friendship to me and what you mean to me. Same goes with anything from Paul. A shirt, his shorts, even his socks. Even after washing whatever it is, just wearing it and knowing it's his, that he's my boyfriend, the connection between the two is calming to me."
"What about your underwear thing?"
"Oh, that's just a sexual fetish. Wearing Paul's boxers makes me feel sexy."
"And how about mine?"
"I don't wear yours. I seriously don't do anything with yours! I finally got over the fact that a hot straight guy can accept me and be my friend around Thanksgiving, when you set me up with Paul, and were so happy with yourself when it worked. You're just awesome and I'll always love you for it, but I'm over you. I have Paul!"
"Eh, he's alright, I guess."
"He's perfect!"
"But he's no me."
"Shut up! His hair is perfect. It's a wicked brown and shines like gold in the sun. He has real green eyes, and his contacts make them glow like emeralds. And he can pull off glasses better than anyone I can think of. His lips are to die for. He's got muscles in all the right places and what he thinks is a flabby belly I see as pillowy abs. I don't even know what he's talking about there, he has definition! How can he think it's flabby? His butt and legs are the best in the school, no offence. Even Daniel agreed with me there. His toes are so cute and perfect. His hands are long and strong and so delicate with me. His arms are powerful and hold me so lovingly, and he smells so fucking good! He's smart and funny, and so sweet and loving without even trying, and his soul is so pure and gentle. And in case you thought I would spare you, his dick is just, wow! And he can really use it too. Like, I've had sex with a few guys, 'kay. No comparison! I thought I knew good sex before him, but he is on another level. I can't even put it into words, but he can really make love. He's just, wow! Yeah."
Tim leans into me, "You really are gay!"
"Duh! A hundred percent."
"And you really love him."
"Double duh! A thousand percent. A hundred thousand percent."
"You get all gooy and googly-eyed."
"Don't be jealous, you had your chance. I also get wet for him so lets' change the subject," I say as I check my pants for a damp spot.
"On that note, maybe we should order another pizza before Neil and Tania get here. Lord help us if we have to hear a rant about how Neil doesn't like Hawaiian again!"
).:.(<<
The second week of January I'm working a dead shift in the music store. After the Christmas shopping season, and then the returns and exchanges that follow, January is usually a quiet sales month. The biggest thing going on in the store is a lot of bored people getting out of the house and window shopping. On this Thursday night an entire song can play without a customer stopping in, so I have the Leonardo DiCaprio movie The Beach' playing with the volume up. I figure hey, why not watch a movie while I'm working'.
My peaceful night ends when my sister walks in. Other than an abbreviated visit at Christmas I haven't seen Lacey in months. I actually smile when she waves hello to me. I guess my brain momentarily forgot she's a bitch and trumped it with the fact that she is my sister.
She sounds reticent, "Hey Moody."
"Nobody calls me that anymore," I fire back at her, the previous lapse in my dislike for her corrected.
She launches right into it, "Look. Let's cut to the chase. There's something you have to know. Something that's pissed me off for a long time now."
"Please enlighten me dear sister," I fire back with dripping sarcasm.
"When you slept with Brent Liddle, it was a game to him."
"I know. But he got what he wanted, I got what I wanted. What do you care? Why are you even talking to me, let alone about that? You hate me for being gay."
"I don't hate you for being gay. It's not right, but I don't hate you for it."
"Then why do you hate me so much?"
"I'm only here 'cause Ma told me about your friend Neville that had a kid with his boyfriend's sister. I hate you because of Brent Liddle. The same morning you woke up in his bed after sex with him and Justin took pictures of you two sleeping, I fell asleep in his bed that same night after sex with him. Having me on the same sheets with your dried sweat and God-only-knows-what, was his ultimate score that he brags about. He hoped to get us both together in his bed with him after that. I had no idea, you and him. Do you know how humiliated I was when he told me? The guy I really liked and thought he liked me, the guy I dumped Jason for and that I just had sex with, had his huge dick up your ass only hours earlier? And he kept it up for a couple weeks, playing both of us. I know you didn't know, but that doesn't change it. If you had known, I'd have killed you. I swear it."
I finally understand where her mere tolerance of me turned to hatred. I'm stunned. Nauseated.
"Just thought you should know. Ma is always on my case to accept you, and now you know why I can't. So tell her that you and me are okay now and get her to back the fuck off me already. And don't you tell her, or anybody for that matter, if you have even a shred of care for me," Lacey says and promptly walks out of the store.
I didn't even know that she liked him. I had no idea she was seeing Brent in between her ex Jason and the guy she's living with now, Andy. I knew the bondage really got Brent off, just not how much, or why. I can only imagine he used the same ball gag and cuffs on her. And then he used them with me again. All the while he was getting off on the fact that he was doing me and my sister. I want to throw up.
).:.(<<
PAUL
Since Jackie and Nat's parents said something to my parents about laying off me already, it seems to have worked. Image in the church is my mama's biggest concern, and being looked down on for turning her back on me has made her change her tune. Outwardly anyways. I know I still disgust her, but she is at least trying to be pleasant for Belinda's sake and not chasing us away to sleep at other people's homes.
She has asked all kinds of questions about Jon and his Ma and Larry. I'm guessing it's through the church gossip channels that she heard about Jon possibly being gay, and that his Ma stopped going to their church because of it. Turning a new leaf and trying to be civil, she's still not all that good at masking her real interest when gently prodding my connection to Jon's family. It's taken a lot of effort, and a lot of time away from Jon to convince her that my connection to them is actually Larry, and that he's developing a program for students like myself or worse, that are in need of housing because of issues at home.
Even with the current truce at home, it hasn't stopped my parents from pushing me to enlist like all my brothers before me. Rather than argue with them, now that I actually have a roadmap for my life planned out, I tell them what they want to hear. Daddy is so proud that I'm manning up, he's called all my brothers to tell them the good news. Mama throws out the obligatory no gays in the military line. She asks if I'm going to give Belinda up to Stacey or turn her over to child services, or if I plan on leaving my poor parents to watch after her.
That attitude is exactly why I'm spending more time at home with Belinda. Aside from the fact that sitters generally cost money, it's my goal to keep things as stable as possible for Belinda until we get the fuck out of dodge. If the peace with my parents holds, school nights I'm going to stay at home, and Friday and Saturday nights Belinda and I will be staying with Jon. The only other definite things on my schedule are school, which is set, and work, which is variable.
Socially, as Friday nights are football nights the baseball team never plays, so its date night for Jon and Tim, and my night to hang with Wayne and Jackie, work permitting. Belinda will be in tow those nights, and they will be early nights for me before heading to Jon's. I'll spend Sundays Jon as Daddy has made it clear to his managers that we don't work on the Lord's Sabbath. Jon is going to work his schedule so that it can be our day.
Presently it's a Friday night, January 12th. Belinda's birthday. Wayne, Jackie and their girlfriends along with Nat and her, and Jackie's parents are over for a BBQ. The idea was to bring guitars and girlfriends so that we can all sit around and play later. After filling up on ribs and macaroni salad, Wayne and Michelle crap out on us. Not entirely unexpected. He's still afraid he'll catch the gay virus if he spends too much time around me, but his valid excuse tonight is a two month anniversary date with his girl to a chick-flick. After presents for Belinda and cake, Jackie's girlfriend Shannon doesn't mind sticking around to hear Nat, Jackie and I play some guitar.
Jon said something the other night when I called him before bed. The finger of pain has turned upon itself. I liked it and wondered where it came from, if he was quoting a song. It stands out because I've seen him use the line in his journal that he insisted I read. When I searched the line in my web browser it brought up a song called Fall at Your Feet'. I doubt that's where Jon got the line from, but I liked the lyrics so I searched for the song on Napster. When I heard it, I instantly thought of just these two. Nat and Jackie. Well, actually, I thought of Duncan. He and a friend play a lot of folk music on guitar. He sent me a copy of them playing Jon Denver's Take Me Home, Country Roads'. It was pretty good, but I digress.
This song I found, it's a flamenco guitar style, which like I said, made me instantly think of Nat and Jackie. Now that I think of it, John Denver and a banjo also make me think of them too. We end up trying to play both for a couple hours. Jackie knows my new routine so closing in on nine he suggests to Shannon that they go to Baskin Robbins for a sundae, and to Nat that it's time to go find Barry after his football game.
When I get to Jon's, Belinda settles pretty quickly for me. Turning the tables on Jon I search through his clothes for anything resembling athletic shorts. I know he has a pair of orange mesh school issue shorts somewhere that are comfortable. When I finally find the shorts I'm looking for I go to his underwear drawer. I know it would really excite him but I'm not a fan of wearing a thong, so I pull out his most well-worn 2(x)ist boxer briefs.
I make a mental note that he still has a dildo hidden in the drawer. It's not huge but with rubber balls attached it is in fact roughly the same length we are, and more or less the same thickness, but a different shape than either of us. I'm waiting for the day it disappears, or the day we use it together.
I strip and step into the faded white boxer briefs that are so worn they are even loose on my thicker waist and thighs. I slip into the yellowish orange shorts and leave my plaid cotton boxers in the middle of his floor for him to find. When he gets home and slips into bed I'm hoping he likes me wearing his stuff.
I don't know what time it was when he gets home. I vaguely remember kicking off the shorts when I was still alone in bed because two layers was too constraining. I think I hear him change Belinda and soothe her back to sleep when he got in, but I never fully woke. I also remember him snuggling up to me at some point after that, and later again waking to feel him hugging me in his sleep, his breath on my collarbone and his erection against the back of my thigh.
I wake early. It's just a habit I have now because half the time Belinda is fussing by now. Today she's still quiet. I carefully sit up and crawl to the foot of the bed to make sure she's still breathing. It sounds paranoid, but it's just something I do. The mat in her crib is very thin, but SIDS is something I always worry about. Her chest is rising and falling ever so slightly. Relieved, I crawl back under the bed sheet next to my boyfriend.
When I am comfortable I notice his eyes are open and he's smiling at me. He whispers, "Hey you."
I reach in for a good long kiss and then answer, "Hey."
All cute and bashful he asks, "You want to?"
I nod my head yes and in return ask, "You?"
"With you? Fuck yeah! Always!"
One year and one day since Belinda was born, I'm still just a little insecure about the whole life I've started. Gay guys are supposedly promiscuous. Jon has been all I've wanted for a few years now. He was so adorably cute when I first fell for him and now that we've grown from boys to men, he is so hot. I'm confident he can have his choice of guys, so why he picked me is a mystery to me, but it makes me feel special.
I fish for affirmation, "And with other guys?"
He winces, "Never. Not ever. You and only you. I'll never do anything to screw this up."
I quickly profess, "I feel the same way. I just need to hear it still. Now that I finally have you, I love you more than I even knew was possible."
Rather than respond with words, Jon pounces his lips on mine and hops on top of me, his hands clasping my wrists just above my head, his naked body pinning me to the mattress. His legs are tight against my side and his butt is on my pelvis, his erection and balls grinding against my navel. I surprise myself when a whimper escapes me. Normally it's Jon that makes those noises. He notices too and responds with a moan as our tongues dance with each other.
He starts sensually working his way down my body, licking and nipping at my ear lobes, the nape of my neck, my collarbone, my armpits. His fingertips are playing in the short hair on the back of my head and massaging the base of my skull and my neck as he drinks in the drops of sweat and the scent collected in my armpits. If I didn't already know that my scent was a huge part of the sexual experience for him, the drip that falls from his penis into the slightest of crevices in the centre of my belly, would betray him.
From my armpits he nibbles on my nipples until he knows they're getting too sensitive for me and then sits up. Reaching backward he starts to shimmy his boxer briefs off me that I wore to bed.
"Nice touch, by the way," Jon lustily whispers.
Lifting my legs straight up to help him, I point to my boxers still on the floor, wondering why he didn't take the bait.
After he wins his battle with my feet and has the underwear off me, he holds me tight by the ankles and shrugs his shoulders. Answering the question I asked without words, he tells me, "Yeah, your clothes comfort me and your boxers excite me, but no need to fuck around with those when I have my prize naked in bed right here with me. I only need the consolation when your sexy ass body isn't around for me to touch or hold or smile at!"
Jon flips around so that he is behind me and pushes my knees to my chest. Working my hole and around my sack and everywhere in between, he has me in a sex frenzy in no time. When he finally lets my engorged member into his warm and wet mouth I've pulled at the fitted sheet on the bed so much that two corners have come free. He doesn't let me enjoy the pleasure of his mouth for too long though. He started out as a silhouette when we were kissing, and already the sun is rising enough outside that I can see his features clearly. I'm thinking he's been torturing me for half an hour by now, probably closer to forty-five minutes.
When he finally lets up I'm raring to turn the tables on him, but being the dominant bottom he is, he has other plans. He pivots on one foot to his dresser and back. He returns with a near empty bottle of lube and two condoms. The first he puts on himself and the second on me. I always love the way he fits it on me and unrolls it with such purpose. A slathering of lube on my upright member and his entrance later, he is holding and guiding me as he impales himself on me.
We don't have a routine down yet. However we get here, this is usually when he relinquishes control to me. This morning he continues bouncing up and down on me as I start to lift my hips to meet him. Orgasm aside, if there's a better feeling than having the head and length of my penis constantly being stimulated in the soft, tight grip of my boyfriends' canal while we make love, I don't know it.
We get to a point where I need to take over. I push him backwards so that his head is hanging off the edge of the bed, wrap his legs together and distribute my weight on the damp backs of his knees by way of my shoulders. Normally I start off nice and slow and build a lot of long sensual stroking up before I pick up the pace. I liken sex to `Stairway to Heaven', a slow gentle start constantly building to an emphatic climax, and then just a little denouement that follows in the afterglow.
Sometimes before I really get to pumping him, near my own climax, he hops off me and turns tables and puts his penis in me, proving his soul owns my body as much as mine does his. The condom he's already wearing indicates he plans to orgasm in me before we flip around and I finish in him. Taking charge and switching up my game today by starting fast and hard, I have him confused, but he's willingly follows my lead. His near silent moans, gasps, and whimpers only increase my sexual passion. Our hips rapidly slapping together are not nearly as quiet. Somewhere between the two is the constant complaining of the bedsprings. Yes, this morning everyone is going to know we're having sex. Oh well.
When his face is utter ecstasy I have to stop before I have a heart attack. Jon likes taking it in so many different ways. Ass up with his face buried in my underwear or hockey equipment is definitely up there for him, but so is the missionary position, or starfish I've heard it called. He loves me restraining his wrists and bearing down all my weight on them. I don't know what I really like yet in terms of bottoming, so as I pull out of him from the missionary position I get in the doggy position and lube up for him. So far I've enjoyed his full length massaging me best from this position.
He starts off gentle for me and then ramps up the tempo, quickly trying to match the pace I was going at. His physical stamina isn't as good as mine so he soon takes to hugging me tightly around my chest and only working his hips slowly and deliberately. I know he loves when I start off this way in him. I've never called him on it but he's shed more than a tear with a smile on his face when I've done this to him. When he starts to fight a charley horse in his calf, he grabs me tight and flips us onto our sides where he continues the sensual long-dicking of my ass. When I've bottomed, it's never felt this good. A couple times already I've found myself bored and wanting him to just finish up already, but this? This is new. Now I'm the one whimpering and stifling my moans.
When Jon spreads my legs like scissors and straddles my lower leg I can see the sun is now above the horizon and shining directly into his room. He picks up the pace again and starts to shake. When his orgasm freezes him in place he grunts loudly and dives in for a kiss. Our bodies are dripping sweat as he slips out of me and pulls me up to my knees. He backs into me and with a hand forces me back into him. With my chest to his shoulder blades I start pumping furiously. In this position I keep falling out despite being rock hard still. I shove him down flat on the mattress and mount him. Jon is resting his head in his folded arms and I swear he's actually nodding off a couple times.
Belinda is fussing by the time I reach my climax. My sweaty balls are slipping around in the sweaty crevice between Jon's little butt cheeks as I rock back and forth. When he starts flexing his butt and his canal it's game over. Usually once I'm spent and have recovered I start up again and it tapers off into a make-out session. Today I don't even have the energy to start up again. Jon just wiggles around underneath me until my breathing comes back to normal. When I pull out we are both amazed at how much extra I filled the condom today.
After drinking my load, Jon gets up and looks at Belinda, "I'll change her while you have a shower. Then you can feed her while I have a shower and change the sheets. Then we can go back to sleep. I'm so drained I just want to lay in bed with you and cuddle all day."
That's exactly what we do. It's almost noon when we finally decide to dress and emerge from his room for the day. No one says anything when Jon leaves for his twelve to six shift. I work four to eight today, and Tim has an orientation with us at four and then is training with me from five to eight. I figured using my dad to get him a job when he asked about it was the least I could do for him. He was originally hired as a buggy-boy, but for the few hours he can actually work, getting paid more than double as a cashier will help his wallet.
).:.(<<
After I hand Belinda off to Charlene so I can take Tim in to work, he finally says something, "Dude, I don't know how it was with Stacey, but if you can fuck Jon for three and a half hours, I don't know how you figured you'd avoid parenthood without a condom."
"Nah, I was so upset when I saw him with Daniel I didn't care. Belinda's a blessing though, and we both have Jon now. And this morning, that was more him than me, believe it or not. My legs are still weak and fuck am I sore! Sore, but so totally content."
"Damn, this long distance relationship is with the girl of my dreams, so I get some of that, but fuck you assholes. I am so beyond jealous. A three and a half hour sex-a-thon? I've got to get me some of that! Soon," Tim says and worries his hand over a funky necklace he got over Christmas.
I'm feeling a little bold, "We didn't have a stopwatch on it but yeah, it went a while. If you want what we had this morning, you have to take as well as give."
Tim is slow with his comeback, "Is that an offer Hunter? You and me? Or a threesome with Jon?"
"No. You're a catch for a nice girl. I don't get your long distance thing, but I don't get girls either. If we're going by physical attraction, you don't compare to Jon. I'm with him on the other part; you're too nice of a guy and anyone that knows you can easily fall for you."
"Aww, thanks. So you definitely don't like my body. Okay. Whatever. What's there not to like?"
I'm exasperated, "Seriously? We're going there?"
Tim just grins, "Seriously."
"You have a great body. In case you're too straight to notice, I don't look all that much different. Ever since I lost some weight I'm motivated to not get fat again so I over compensate, but that's beside the point. I don't know why I don't go for our build. Look at Jon. He's long and slender and when I'd see him change in gym class into real clothes, not baggy stuff to make him look bigger, everything about his body made me hard."
Tim laughs, "Well he thinks the world of you too. I've heard it all from him, from your gorgeous eyes and perfect eyebrows right down to your cute toes and back to your unmatched ass. Almost makes me jealous. And, no, I'm not too straight to notice. Besides being in shape for baseball, there's a reason I work out and it's to get some action already. Do you think I'm stupid for keeping a long-distance relationship?"
"I really don't know the details other than Jon says you talk to some girl in the middle of the night. I'd say you were a secret closet case, but he's specifically heard you describe her body when you have phone sex."
"Oh, she's a girl all right. I always come back to her when I spank the monkey."
"Does she have a name?"
"Yup."
"And?"
"If I told you, I'd have to kill you. There are too many layers. She was my first. And my only. Unfortunately she's not here. I get so horny and then I hear you two going at it and I start to wonder if I'm ever actually going to see her again and what I'm doing saving myself for her when I could be getting laid."
"Has she asked you to save yourself for her?"
"No. The opposite actually. She wants me to get a girl before our graduation prom."
"It sucks, but you have your answer."
"I know."
"Then what's holding you back?"
"If you make fun of me for this ever, I'll step on your fun bag and grind it to nothing. Then I'll rip off your dick for good measure. I don't know how to talk to a girl. I get too nervous. Nat is like the only one, and it's because she was a friend. But look what that got me. She thinks I'm gay with you and Jon."
"You know who doesn't think you're gay?"
"Who?"
"Lots of girls. Weren't you right at the top of that ranking thing they had?"
"Yeah. And so far my hand is the only one that's asked me out on a date."
As we pull into Wal-Mart I point out, "You don't talk to them. Your life is focused on baseball and your friends and now a little work. At school you hide in the weight room at lunch, and don't socialize a lot in class. You are hot and really nice, but completely unapproachable."
Tim looks severely chastised, "Ouch. Point taken. Thanks for your honesty. And thanks for getting me upgraded from buggy-boy to cashier."
"Nah. No thanks needed. You deserve it. Now I just have to get Jon's ma hired too before I disappear."
).:.(<<
On Sunday Jon and I do another birthday get-together for Belinda, this time a lunch at his house with our friends and his family. Again, low-key but there are more than enough pictures courtesy of Nat for Queen B to see when she's older.
Later in the afternoon we get the skates Duncan bought him fitted. We suit him up in a football girdle from Larry so that he has tailbone protection under his bulky jeans, and go skating for a couple hours. Jon isn't too bad on skates, having rollerblades gave him the general idea. I know it's Texas and we're boyfriends, but for a little while I don't care that people can see me touching him or him holding onto me. Duncan was right, it is a good excuse to be able to touch him without ridicule. Someday when the newness of being gay wears off, and we're comfortable being a couple in public, I'll feel like the richest man in the world for the love Jon gives me.
).:.(<<
Check out my web page (yahoo group) where I post this along with my other stories! The format is way cleaner to read (pdf), both on the computer and on mobile devices. If you join the group it will send notifications to an email addy of your choice when new chapters are posted. No other junk mail, no spam. http://ca.groups.yahoo.com/group/phantomscorpio77
Three chapters left of WoT. Drop me a line if it pleases you. (It really does make my day)