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His parents returning, I went back to my house for the rest of the day. For once my mother and father were home. Both looked tired, yet due to their secretive jobs, couldn't say much. Dad was always uptight, and an enigma to me then, and even after his death years later I don't know much about him. Aloof and intelligent are two words I'll use. He was upon prompting, able to help me out with difficult math and science homework, but it seemed to pain him that I asked him for help. From what I knew Dad was born in upstate New York. We had visited his then surviving mom years ago, and I remember it as being idyllic and beautiful. Lots of hills and mountains, along with small towns compared to our everything is big in San Diego. Yes we technically lived outside of it in San Marcos, an upscale suburb where no one locked their doors, but reminiscing about grandmas place is a happy memory.
She was a warm and loving lady. I remember crying in 8th grade, when she died of a heart attack. Although we lived on opposite coasts, we talked often on the phone, and shared a love of poetry through writing each other. This was a foggy time as dad struggled greatly. When home he would drink. I tried as a young man to help him, but he just became rather callous for awhile. It was just how he grieved, and he retreated to booze, his Apple computer from who knows what year, and often would fall asleep. He never talked about his dad who had passed years previously. They had no relationship that I was aware of, and mom simply shrugged her shoulders when I asked.
They had both met at UCLA. Both were engineering majors, and their connection was mostly a happy one. At least from looking at their pictures, they seemed so carefree from that sophomore year to when they graduated. Their marriage album showed much happiness, and while they were similar in many ways, mom had some personality. She was better at showing love too. Quite often even though working, she'd leave me dinner with a kind handwritten note. I still have a lot of these, and she also when available, would take me to the movies or close by parks. We didn't travel a lot, but mom one summer did take me on a trip to Vancouver, Canada. It was a lot of fun, and this is where I discovered my love of Asian foods.
Mom and dad said "hi" to me, but not much more than that. After I completed my homework, mom, dad, and I had a tasty dinner of her famous casserole. With potatoes and turkey, it was really tasty, and they both smiled as I ate most of it. Mom actually laughed, "my high school boy is becoming a man." Dad gave me an approving nod. They did both want to know about cross country season, and I let them know about my varsity starts, along with my new friend James from DC and the other San Marcos high school. They both seemed semi intrigued, but at the same time, dad put on the news and they were gone again. It was fine by me, as we learned more about what the Soviets were doing. Their invading of Afghanistan was disturbing, and the threat of nuclear Armageddon never seemed far away. There was a movie that came out on television, that had riveted our entire nation. Would we be attacked by communists?
That night I took a shower, and got ready for bed as school was going to start tomorrow. "Ready or not here I come!" Thinking about having my balls licked by James earlier, and our kissing had led me to a mixture of emotions. This caused me not to be able to sleep. I was so confused. Yes I liked how it felt, and really was enjoying our conversations and sex activities. Yet part of me felt guilty was this? I had an active mind, and it wouldn't allow me a break from our activities. Plus I was absorbing what he had described being fucked by another guy. I imagined George putting his penis in my handsome bright blonde friend, and what it must have been like. One thing was for certain, it did get me excited, yet I knew I wasn't ready. Was it okay that James had sucked my balls? Or wow didn't it feel so damn good? I was hard, and it wouldn't go away. Finally I reached down under the sheets, and got another load off, before getting a semblance of sleep.
That damn GE alarm clock. Loud and unapologetic. I finally turned it off, before throwing on khaki shorts, and a blue Billabong t shirt. A quick breakfast with a coke, I walked to school. Mrs Johnson waved from her porch as she read the paper. She was such a nice neighbor. Also I saw the guy with the German shepherd again. Probably a new neighbor, although he seemed to keep to himself. His orange Walkman headsets on, he was in his own element, and I trudged on to get to school on time. As athletes, we were held to a higher standard. Plus I wanted to go to Stanford, so being late to classes or dropped grades, could decrease the chances of my dreams. I couldn't wait to go to that university in a little over a year, and had happy thoughts about running in front of spectators.
Today was English, history, gym, and chemistry. The last was my favorite, as the periodic table of elements was one of my favorite discoveries. Then again I loved the Rubik's cubes and other strategy games, so the variables of these elements kept my attention. I saw James briefly in the hallway. He smiled and as the ten minute break was on between classes, told me to meet him at his locker next one for "something special." Was he stupid enough to keep weed there, and try to give me some? I hoped not, as I hustled off to history. Mr Tyrell was a decent educator. Sure he was a little quirky, but today was about the Korean War conflict. I never understood how Truman had fired MacArthur, so this was an area where learning was desired. By the end of class, I found out it had to happen, because if it hadn't war with China and the Soviet Union were possibilities. Men with high ranks of power, and add a war to it, to bring out the best and worst of each's characteristics.
Sure enough after Tyrell's class, I did go to James's locker. He handed me a brown bag, and simply said, "enjoy these reading materials." His grin was mischievous. What was he up to? Obviously this would have to wait, yet the brown bag seemed to have magazines in there. Yet they soon we're forgotten about, as gym and chemistry provided a physical and mental challenge. It was Monday, and the clocks did seem slower than normal. We had them in every class and hallway. As seconds became minutes and then hours, I was looking forward to calling it a day. Yet where was that bell? It was as if time had stopped, and I was stuck in some version of purgatory. Mercifully it concluded, and once home from my walk, I used the key in my pocket to get inside.
Brought the mail inside, and watched a bit of Donahue. The Fritos chips went well with the Coke. I was hungry despite having a decent lunch, and eventually realized to look into the backpack. Opening up my green LL Bean one everyone had, all subjects of books and writing paper were found. The krinkly brown bag was in there, and I saw confirmation on my original thoughts. They were magazines, and the three of them were all full of gay guys. I was taken aback, yet quickly went up to my room, apprehensive yet excited about what would be in the pages. Sure I had Hustlers and the like, but James has provided me new materials to peruse. They were a lot different, but as my penis grew, the attraction and seductive nature of them was so damn obvious.
The first one was nude men. Almost all of them were fully erect, or showing off their backsides. The other two were graphic. These were guys giving each other blowjobs, or fucking each other. One page of a young guy bending over for a huge hard penis inside of him had me really feeling frisky. My hard cock was out in no time, as these pictures were so damn hot. I found the ones of the man riding a cock to be extremely horny inducing. Each page turned led to more discoveries, including 900 number advertisements which were sexy too. There was a cute blond wearing nothing, and his ad said "I need to be fucked." Yet as much as I struggled with this, I knew not to call these phone numbers. What would I tell my parents? Even if I had a credit card number, they would find out one way or the other.
As I turned each page more, I saw images of three men together. Wondering what the man in the middle felt, as he was penetrating while being penetrated. The pictures of guys on their knees sucking made me really hard. This led me to dreaming of James going down my shaft. I also was getting horny looking at a dark Puerto Rican guy nailing a Asian male. The kinkiness factor was high. His penis was so much bigger, than the guy he was fucking. Another picture of him with his penis shooting white loads, as I simply couldn't resist stroking my 8 inch monster. Images of gay males made me horny, and within minutes, I had blown a unbelievable load with a full intense orgasm. These gay magazines turned me on, and I was sure Jamss wanted me to know for sure.
To be continued.