DISCLAIMER: This story contains depictions of homosexual contact between underage males. Read at your own risk, and do not read at all if it is illegal in your city, state, or province. All characters depicted are fictional, and any resemblance to real persons can be attributed to chance.
I woke up at some late hour, maybe 9, maybe 3 in the morning. I don't bother to look at the clock when I can help it. I knew whatever time it was, I had slept enough, and I would not be able to go back to sleep for a while. Utterly bored, I felt around the room for my guitar. It was an old Martin that my enterprising grandfather had converted to left hand use. He was proud of it, a worthy heirloom to his favorite grandson. As a result, I was proud of it too, not to mention highly secretive. Besides my mother and father, not a soul knew I had a guitar, let alone could play one. I played only to relax and amuse myself. Which was what I planned to do now.
Feeling the familiar weathered wood under my fingertips, I launched into a series of scales with confidence born of countless late night performances such as this one. Then, I worked out a simple melody, something calm and vaguely Spanish, and backed it with some chords. Not before long I was lost under a cascade of notes, drowning in a musical flood of my own devising. Even though I had never played this particular song in my life, the chords fell into place like it was inescapable fate, the song just sounded so damn right. Not meaning to brag, of course, but I was a fiend for guitar music. As I made my way through a bridge, I closed my eyes and laid my head back against the wall. I switched keys and launched back in, full swing. I was just wandering through a thoughtful refrain when I felt a wave of air, the unmistakable gust caused by an opened window. Slowly, reluctant to leave my blissful state, I cracked my eyes, only to gaze on my window, which was indeed just opened. I froze, and almost instantly my heart started trying to claw its way out of my chest. For a moment, I considered hefting the guitar (El Kabong, anyone?) but quickly decided that if it was my life or the ax, the instrument had been here a lot longer than I had. I stared at the windowsill, ready to jump at (or away from, depending on just how big they were)any burglar suddenly popping up. Taking a moment to think, I armed myself more appropriately with a good 'ol Louisville Slugger (which ironically enough, was a gift from Grandpa that didn't go over so well... Who plays baseball, anyway?) and tiptoed to the window. Seeing no imminent doom, I chanced sticking my head out. Nothing left, nothing right. But right under my open window sat a blond haired boy, who was obviously asleep. Even though I was prepared a few moments ago to go out fighting, I was shocked and overjoyed to see my new boyfriend and lover Chance in his angelic slumber. So shocked, that I jerked my head back and knocked it soundly on the window. I rattled my brains sufficiently enough to wake him up and almost put me to sleep, too. He stood up, and stared dumbly, and then seemed to realize where he was. He looked through the window, and saw his lover and boyfriend Ian sprawled on the floor staring at the ceiling. He somehow found the sight pleasant. Smiling dazedly, he stepped through the window (taking care to watch his head) and curled up right next to me. What conversation followed sounded like we both had no idea how to speak English. "Pretty music..." "Ow. My head hurts..." "You play guitar?" "I am concussed" "Love you." "Shouldn't sleep, should I?" No, I probably shouldn't have, but having Chance made my head hurt less and made me feel more sleepy. So, I cuddled up to him, and we spooned our way to the morning. * * * *
What woke me up was the noticeable lack of boyfriend next to me and the smell of pancakes. I slowly roused myself, and smiled at the pleasantness of sleeping with Chance, but frowned that he left before I woke up. My next destination was the bathroom. I stopped outside the door, because someone was taking a shower. Weird. My mom always takes her shower years before I wake up. I checked my watch (which wasn't there) and turned to go lay back down when my mom's voiced piped up over the sizzle of pancakes turning from the kitchen. "He's in the shower Ian... although (here her voice dropped a pitch) I doubt there's anything you haven't seen already!" "Mom!" "Yes, hon" She chimed back, taking delight in making me blush. "Nevermind." I touched the door, which was unlocked. I figured I couldn't hold it, and I'd be done before he knew. I was right on both counts. Resisting the urge to rip the curtain open and expose him, I peed and flushed the toilet. Oh damn. Howling crazily, Chance jumped out of the shower, into me. In the process, he yanked the curtain, which flipped the curtain rod, which somehow knocked the shower head to turn out into the bathroom. Poor (or lucky, depending on how you look at it) me, I've got a cold wet teenage boy on top of me (he was taking a cold shower? I must have an effect on him.), and the shower faucet is now spewing hot water on both of us, only we're not in the shower, and I'm still dressed. Chance had pinned me to the floor, and we ended up in a very suggestive position, that is to say him on top of me naked, face to face, crotch to crotch. We were both surprised to be so close so fast, so we did the only thing that made sense. So we were madly making out (if only we both were naked, damn.) when my mother peeked in, full of motherly concern. "Wow. I'm impressed. Points for creativity." "Mom!"
"These aren't 'I'm your mom and I love you and I just felt like making them' pancakes, boys," she said, plopping a few on each of our plates. "These are 'I'm depressed that my son is getting laid more than I am so I'm going to cook myself into an early grave' pancakes. So be happy." Chance guffawed heartily at this, and I tried to disappear. "So, lover boy, where ya from?" "Chicago." "Ah, makes sense. That's how you met Ian. What brings you to Fort Wort?" "We moved. I stayed behind to finish school. I'll start my senior year here, though. "Wow, cool. You two should be at the same school, then. What do your folks do?" I perked up, because I knew his family was a sore subject. "My dad's a... church musician and my mom's a chef at a restaurant downtown. I don't remember the name..." "Denise Owens? At the Rio Grande? I knew you looked familiar!" she said, swinging a towel through the air for emphasis. I do some desserts for them every now and then! You've really got her eyes, you know." He blinked said eyes, smiling pleasantly. "I had know idea she was so well known..." "Yep, I'd say she's pretty good. But since she's not here, you'll just have to settle for my pancakes. Eat up." Eat up we did.
After breakfast, Chance suggested that we go to his house. "My dad's got a studio downstairs. You think you could record a couple of tracks?" he said, miming like he was holding a guitar. "Is it okay with your dad?" "He's out of town, actually... and my mom, she doesn't go down there. she says she cooks enough at work." "What do you mean?" "You'll see. Anyway, if the layouts the same as his one in Chicago, I know how to not break anything."
So down the block we walked, guitar over my shoulder, whistling merry tunes.
"You know Chance, I'm only doing this because I love you."
He affected a British accent. "I am going to make you into an idol!"
"Stow it, Simon."
"Meet me in my trailer for some private voice lessons. Don't wear anything." I threatened to Kabong him and we both busted out laughing. We entered Chance's house through the back door (mind out of gutter, please.)and descended directly into the studio. It was baking down there. The only cooling devices in use were those to keep the large array of recording equipment at normal temperature. Everything else was hot. "Let's get this started. You might want to warm up."
"I am."
"Huh?... oh! bad pun babe, bad pun." And so I found myself slow roasting in a small foam covered room. I could see him through the glass, and he looked like he clearly knew what he was doing. After a while, I stopped playing around and looked up. Chance gave me a thumbs up sign, and flipped a switch. A red light above me came on. Showtime. I started with something distinctly Latin, reminiscent of sunny streets of Mexico, and love and hate and drama on them. It danced with the salsa, the meringue, it cracked like the castanets. The song somehow raised my body temperature, so I responded by giving it more heat. My fingers danced through the chords, and I could feel my pulse quickening, my blood burning. I decided I would name the song "Fire," after the flames of it's conception. Fire consumed me. I swept up and up into a burning note that didn't resolve. I nodded, and the light went out. I deliberately opened the recording room door, as if my newfound fire might engulf it. The sweat ran in rivulets like coffee down my face, down my back. I could see Chance was the same way. As he hunched over the electronics I walked over to him, put my hand on his shoulder. He turned, and I yanked him up into a kiss. The sweat plastered our shirts to our bodies, our bodies to each other. We didn't stand up for long at all. Chance was on top of me, again, and his dick was burning hard against mine. We felt each other, somehow not hot enough, wanting to steal each other's heat. In the fray, somehow our shirts came off, dropping heavily because of the sweat. Somehow our pants came off, and the boxers too. We were so entwined that we wore each other instead. When he ended up under me, I slid down to his crotch, the hottest part of his body. Without much ado, I took his glistening penis in my mouth, not really concerned with love at the moment, because the heat had brought out some kind of animal lust in us. My life existed for me to lunge until I felt him at the back of my throat, and lunge I did. He convulsed as he came, sending his white hot seed down my throat. I grabbed him, for the very sensation of him shivering with an orgasm gave me one. I barely had to touch myself, and it was over. I hope I didn't stain anything. We lay like that for a while, the whole time thinking, "Oops, we did it again." I had always known what love felt like, but this seemed to be something else. It was only one of the things I'd discover in the arms of Chance.
Long time coming, but I know, more Chance is gonna come. I'm in the midst of furiously trying to finish high school, and once I'm out, I promise, I'll write like a fiend. Enjoy. Inlwtx@yahoo.com