Dedicated with affection to dudesweet (dude sweet at hot mail dot com), whom I hope is living something like this story right now; and josh (btomandback@hotmail.com), whose work has moved me, (and who deserves to be published!) I highly recommend their stories.
No real disclaimers, except that this is fiction -- with some real experiences occasionally woven in. The characters are composites, although somewhat based on several real high school classmates of mine. No names, but more on that at the end of the series.
I won't urge underage boys to avoid this site, or avoid this behavior. I think gay boys should have lots of sex, as often as possible -- as long as it's safe and healthy. Physically, and emotionally. That's important. And I think gay boys should have boyfriends, whenever they can.
Copyright 2005 by dlgrantsf@yahoo.com; all rights reserved, apart from the Nifty copyright. Please, do not repost, or edit.
Naked with Connor -- part 4
The trip back to the cabin was so beautiful.
I mean, there was the whole insanely-beautiful-lakeside thing going, and Connor kept pointing out stuff I hadn't noticed on the way out.
And of course, there was the incredibly-beautiful-boyfriend thing going too. Watching him swim, dive, walk along, all sleek, smooth, and nude, water glistening on his skin in the sun, in his pubes -- getting me hotter . . .
Yeah.
But it was more. It was like, as we went back, we really opened up to each other. A lot.
We talked. About lots of stuff; music, TV, family. Stupid stuff; and important stuff, like when we figured out we were gay. (Me, almost at birth. Connor, at 13! He said he was pretty sure all along, but left his options open for changing his mind till then.)
And just plain silly stuff, too. Like Connor said he sometimes felt like a dork, and I told him I couldn't believe it, and he started doing Dork Connor -- like, he BECAME a dork, everything he said, and just the way he moved, just everything about him, until I made him stop because it was creeping me out.
And a little later I somehow started singing to him -- a really bad Coldplay cover -- and he put his hands over his ears, so I kept singing and did air guitar, and he pulled us both into the water to get me to stop, which gave us an excuse to wrestle, some, again, which was nice.
But also -- we got to touch.
Part of the way back, wading in shallows, we had our arms around each other's waists, side by side, and that was incredible (and that's also when I started doing Bad Coldplay).
But there were other times too. Once, Connor just lightly ran his hand over my chest, squeezing just a little; it made me shiver, and I think I blushed, again.
I did the same thing to his butt.
I still had plans for that butt.
But -- it wasn't just, like, sexual grabbing. Exactly. I mean, I felt his hands on me, EVERYWHERE. Soft, warm hands; all over my front, and my back, in private places (well, I guess they aren't so private, when you're nude) -- and it just felt so GOOD, and comfortable, somehow, and I felt so connected to Connor --
And I did the same things to him. Of course. It was almost like, I was reassuring myself that it was all real, and not just a dream; but it was also because he felt so, so, wonderful, under my hands, against my skin, and the way he just seemed to glow when we were touching, and I could tell by the way he moved that he was into it like I was --
So, yeah. We wound up doing a lot of that; and a lot of making out, on the trip back. And in some ways, that opening up to each other, and that touching, and that kissing, was better than the sex. Some ways. It may sound weird -- but.
In spite of everything -- as in, my terminal horniness -- I was getting pretty tired by the time we climbed the ladder up to the dock.
The first thing we did was take a shower. Together. Washing each other, actually.
THAT was another new experience.
And then, toweling each other dry -- and not getting dressed. We just hung up to the towels to dry. And stayed bare. The feelings of that . . . Jesus, the feelings . . .
I still was in that hormone-haze-not-hungry phase; but Connor insisted that we had to eat, so he fixed something on the propane stove, while I made a fire in the fireplace, using some wood and kindling from the woodbox by the door.
I don't even remember what we ate; I know it was good, once I started. Connor teased me when I asked for seconds, and I didn't mind.
And then came the best part; as it started getting dark. And the second time Connor totally blew my mind.
We made a kind of nest, right in front of the fireplace; both sleeping bags, opened up, one on top of the other, with some soft, clean old comforters and pillows on top, and around us.
Lots of blankets. Connor's; he planned this ahead.
So by the time it got dark, there we were, snuggling together in a kind of soft cocoon, backs up against the old sofa, in front of the small fire.
Next recommendation; snuggling -- nude -- with your boyfriend, in front of a fire. Highly, highly recommended.
I was actually snuggling Connor in my arms; I was leaning back against the sofa, he was leaning back against my chest, between my legs.
His head up against my shoulder; I could smell his shampoo, as I nuzzled into his cheek, and ran my hands over his chest, and down his stomach, along his thighs, and I played with his nipples just a little as I kissed and licked his neck, and he snuggled back against me and ran his hands over my arms and legs and my foot and any other part of me he could get to --
And I felt this really deep emotional shift, because I knew, right then, that I was so, so much in love with him that it scared me.
We didn't say anything for a long time; just cuddled together, and caressed, and felt the warm glow of the fire against our bare skin, and the coolness where the fire didn't shine, and the different warm of skin against skin, and the things we didn't say -- the quiet -- just got more and more charged . . .
"Scott?"
"Hmmm?" I nuzzled him, below his ear. He made a comfortable noise, and shifted against me.
"You're the best thing that ever happened to me," he whispered. "I mean it."
I got hard. Instantly. I mean, how perverse? It was an emotional statement, not sexual; but it was an incredible emotional rush, and I got hard.
I still get hard when Connor tells me he loves me. I hope that doesn't stop. But. Anyway.
"Me, too," I whispered back. "I mean -- you too. You -- "
"Shhhh . . . " He craned his head around, we kissed. A little awkwardly; but wet.
(I remember now; we had chili, that night. He tasted like Connor; but like a Connor who'd been eating chili.)
Back to silence. And caresses. And that cosmic, glowing feeling. Both of us making little purring, contented noises, from time to time.
And then --
"Scott?"
"Mmmm - ?" My hands were down in his lap, now; not stroking or fondling him yet, exactly, but working up to it. Running my fingers gently through his pubes, mostly.
I felt him tense up a little, in my arms, under my hands.
"Brian knows about us."
Long pause. REAL long pause.
"Yeah?" My hands kept moving, as I thought about it.
"I didn't tell him." Connor shifted a little in my arms. "He kind of figured it out by himself."
Another pause.
"Yeah." I kissed his neck, again. "And he's -- okay with it?"
"Uh-huh. It's OK; I promise."
I kept up my slow caressing, as I kept thinking. I knew Connor had more to say.
"So," I began slowly, "is that why he drove us up here?"
THAT was a question with consequences. As in -- he drove us up here, because he knew how important it was to Connor? And me - ?
"Yeah. Mostly, I think."
Stroke; nuzzle. The fire crackled as a log burned through.
"Wow. And I thought YOU were the saint."
"What does that mean?" He twisted his head around, to look at me.
"You're a really -- nice person. Sometimes I sort of call you Saint Connor, just to myself. It's one of the things I really, well, . . . " I trailed off awkwardly; I wasn't ready to use the word "love" to him, yet.
That would come a whole six days later. But not that night.
Connor settled back against me, again; still tense. He squeezed my thigh.
"So -- you talked about it?" I went on, gently.
"Yeah. A lot," he said, softly.
It was a weird feeling. I was just now so totally flushed with love for Connor, I wanted to tell the whole world. On the other hand -- up until a minute ago, Connor was the only other person in the world who knew about me. Being gay, I mean.
"And he's not, like, grossed out, or anything?"
"Are you serious? He approves of you."
Wow. Again. "He does?"
I felt a kind of hidden laugh, in his body, under my hands. "He says you're probably the coolest guy in our class, yours and mine; that you're really mature, and nice. And what makes you cool is that you don't know it." He paused, and I felt him take a breath. "He thinks you're really cute, too."
Ohhhh-kay.
I kissed Connor's cheek, and let him get on with the rest of it.
"Something I didn't tell you, Scott. See -- after that weekend Brian and I were up here -- well, he came back. With Travis. Twice, actually," he went on. "Two weekends, I mean."
Kiss; caress. Connor squeezed my bare foot; I tried to grasp it.
Travis was Brian's best friend; a kind of goofy, funny, shaggy blond boy who always reminded me of a big golden labrador retriever. He and Brian were always together at school, and it seemed like they were always laughing about something.
And yeah, he was really cute, too.
And he and Brian had spent TWO weekends up here - ?"
"Same -- deal?"
As in naked,? And having sex?
"Yeah," whispered my boyfriend.
"Wow," I went, not very originally.
The images flashed; I couldn't help it, Brian and Travis doing what Connor and I had done -- were still going to do -- and suddenly it struck me, Brian and Travis had probably snuggled together RIGHT HERE, in front of this same fireplace, the same way --
And now I understood all the extra comforters and pillows. Experience.
"You could have told me. Before, I mean." I said it gently.
I wasn't mad.
I thought it was cool. WAY cool.
"Well -- it wasn't actually for me to tell. You know?" He squeezed my hand, as I found his left nipple.
He still felt a little tense, under my hands; I'd gotten to know his body that well, in such a short time.
"More?" I whispered.
"Yeah," he whispered back; and this time I felt him REALLY tense up. Like he was going to move away, get up, but decided not to, at the last minute.
"Brian and me -- well." He stopped, a second. "When we were up here last year; and, well, even before. We -- I mean, uh, . . . "
I knew.
Oh, Jesus.
I hugged him tighter, and buried my face in his neck.
Can you say, conflicted emotions? As in -- totally turned on, sexually; combined with the weird feeling of knowing about the boy you love having sex with someone else?
And -- his BROTHER?? Oh, Jesus; the images - !
"It's all right," I said into his neck. Then I propped my chin on his shoulder. "It's okay." I kissed his cheek. "And -- how do you feel about, uh, - ?"
"It's different with us! You and me, I mean." Connor twisted around to look me in the yes. "With Brian -- well, we're brothers. It's -- well, we're brothers. With you, it's so totally different - !"
His eyes were moist. I kissed him on his lips, and then wetly, and pulled him back against my chest again.
"I mean -- we've always been really, really close. I really love him, Scott," he said, twisting against me a little.
"It's okay. Honest." I hugged him tighter, again.
"I wasn't going to tell you. But -- well, I guess I thought I needed to." He shifted, again. "Does it -- gross you out?" His voice was tense.
"No." I kissed his cheek. "I -- guess I feel funny, thinking of you having sex with anybody else. Now, I mean." Another kiss. "It's also, like, totally hot to think about."
I was hoping THAT didn't gross him out, in return.
"We haven't doing anything since you and I started," he whispered.
"Okay." That made me feel better. A lot better, actually.
Silence for another few seconds; then -- I couldn't let it rest.
"So -- were you and Brian, uh, like, you know -- doing it -- for very long?"
Another tensing up feeling, under my hands. "A few years. I guess." He paused. "It was me that started it."
"That's cool. Well -- you know what I mean." I had to know something more; it had to do with my plans for Connor tomorrow. "So . . . I guess that blowjob I gave you today wasn't, like, your first?" I tried to make it sound like a joke.
"Not exactly." Connor leaned his head against mine. "But it was the best." He found my bare foot again, and started playing with it. "We . . . didn't get beyond that. Being oral, I mean. Brian said I should like, save that for, well . . . " and he trailed off, and I flushed again, and hugged him.
One more thing I had to know.
"Do you -- miss it? Doing it with Brian, I mean."
I had reasons for asking. It occurred to me that I had some responsibility in this -- situation. Connor wouldn't do anything to make me unhappy. But -- did he, like, really miss it? Being with Brian, I mean.
And if he did -- what should I say?
Long pause. LONG pause.
"I'd so rather do it with you."
Okay.
"Would you -- still like to get together with him?" I whispered. Whispering seemed more intimate, somehow. "Ever?"
Pause. Tensing up.
"Only if you were there. And part of it." Another squeeze to my foot. "And really into it." He craned his head to kiss my cheek.
Wow. Oh, - wow. Oh, Jesus.
I didn't say anything, at first; I just took his right hand, and gently brought it back to my dick, which was so hard -- again -- that it throbbed. His hand found it, and squeezed, gently.
"So that -- doesn't gross you out - ?" he whispered.
"No." I licked his neck, below his ear. My hand cupped his beautiful balls, and he wriggled in my arms, a little. "As long as you're there, and into it -- it, um, - it might be really cool . . . " I ticked his scrotum, just a bit, with my fingertips. "I really like Brian."
"As much as me?"
"No." This time I squeezed his scrotum, just a little. My boyfriend's scrotum. My boyfriend's balls. "Not nearly. Not ever . . . "
And this time I really pulled him back, and wriggled out from behind him so we were lying side by bide wrapped around each other, and we began making out really seriously, cushioned by the soft comforters and pillows with the heat of the fire on our bare bodies, and pretty soon we were in each other's mouths again, and this time, because I couldn't resist, my fingers were all over inside Connor's crack, just feeling, touching, pressing just a little in that smooth spot, and Connor was moaning and moving like it was really doing things to him . . .
You get the picture.
The next chapter is coming soon.
Comments are welcome, to dlgrantsf@yahoo.com. I'm not particularly fishing for compliments; I'm mostly curious about how many people are following this story.
Thanks, to everyone who has already written!
And, thanks for reading.