GREETINGS... ============
...to everyone who read Copier Guy (gay/beginnings) or The Cavern (gay/authoritarian), to the hundreds of people who wrote to me about them, to everyone who didn't read either but is reading this. This is the first part of what may well turn out to be quite a long story, the idea came to me fully formed and I'll be posting chapters just as quickly as I can write them, if only so I can get it done and get on with other stuff! As with previous stories, your input is greatly appreciated whether criticism or praise I'd love to hear from you. Now, read on, and let me know what you think...
DISCLAIMER ==========
This is a work of fiction; any resemblance to persons living or dead is entirely coincidental. The author asserts all legal and moral rights (copyright (c) 2000 - ardveche@hotmail.com) to this work and you may not copy it or transmit it in any way except in its entirety and with this disclaimer. This story features descriptions of sex between consenting (all over the legal age, at least in my jurisdiction they are) males:
- if such material is prohibited in your jurisdiction, please DO NOT READ ON, - if you're under the legal age to read such material, please DO NOT READ ON, - if you don't like, or are offended by such material, please DO NOT READ ON.
Now, if everyone who is still here is meant to be here, let's get on with it. This is the first story I've posted so all comments are welcome (email them to ardveche@hotmail.com).
NEW TO THIS STATE =================
Chapter 1 - The Move
So this was it, my parents were getting divorced. My mother and I were packing up and moving across the country to live with my grandmother until we "get on our feet"; whatever that was meant to mean. I was pulled from my school, where in truth I hadn't really fitted in, and had to say my farewells to what few friends I had made there. On the plus side, my mother would never now find out that I skipped half my classes and was flunking pretty much everything as a result. It's not that I'm dumb, quite the opposite, but since what I now mentally tagged `the incident' I hadn't really wanted to be around Aaron. Long story short? Aaron's this really cute guy in some of my classes who I thought was coming on to me, so I responded in kind, but it turns out he was just being friendly. Oops. I thought we were all meant to be able to tell when we met another faggot? Not me.
As far as I know he never told anyone about it. At least, I hadn't had my ass kicked. But I couldn't stop worrying that I hadn't had my ass kicked - yet! So evasive action was the order of the day and I steered clear of him, and his friends. Just in case. You've guessed by now that I'm not out to many people. It wouldn't have gone down well at my school (private, all boys) and it sure as hell wouldn't have gone down well with my dad. It struck me that the move to California, new school and no dad afforded an opportunity to reinvent myself to the world. Then it struck me that my grandmother, who I last saw when I was six, probably wasn't all that "with it" and that my mom probably didn't need any more to worry about.
See, that's the kind of caring guy I am, always putting other people first. Yeah, right! In fact, I'm a total coward and I was hardly about to fuck up my time at a new school on day one. Besides, I only have one more year of high-school (assuming I don't screw up totally) and then I'm out on my own in the big wide world of college! I only hope that the college fund survives the divorce settlement. Any lawyers out there? Kidding! My dad was away for the weekend (probably banging some slut) and we were taking advantage of his absence to get packed up and get out. My mom was being so prissy about everything though, taking none of the cool stuff because "it's your father's". So what? If we take it, it's ours, right?
We finally got done around 2am, and the U-Haul was packed full. Looking at it, it was surprisingly little to show for nineteen years of married life (in my mom's case) or seventeen years on this earth (in mine). But that was it, all our portable goods and chattels packed into the back of a U-Haul and the back seats of my mom's car. We were leaving first thing in the morning, taking turn driving the thousands of miles to our new `home'. Ha! Divorce is a hell of a thing. But I probably don't need to tell you that, I guess you (whoever you ultimately turn out to be - if anyone) are a statistic, same as me. Fucking moral decline of society! He may have been a total bastard, but I was going to kinda miss my dad. I tried not to let it show, tried to be supportive of my mother who was obviously as upset as I was.
Around ten o'clock the doorbell rang and we both stiffened, stopped what we were doing. I went to get it, a little cautious in case we were interrupted in our escape. But it was only Josh, a sort of buddy from school who I told earlier in the day I was leaving. Josh is an okay guy, but a bit dull and bookish and way too into Dungeons and Dragons for my liking - he has like every rule book ever produced. I've never been into that stuff. I spend too much of my life pretending to be someone else to want to do it on my free time too. Ooh, deep! We hung around together a bit, less since I went into hiding, and he was the closest thing I had to a best friend, so I told him about the planned departure.
"Um, hi, Drew." He shifted nervously in the doorway, not looking me in the eye and I suddenly caught an overpowering wave of cologne. "Can I come in?"
"Hey, Josh. Jeez, you drop the bottle, man? You smell like a department store." He flushed bright red and shuffled even more nervously than before. Typical Josh, he could be an okay looking guy if he'd stand up straight, do something with his hair and get some contacts. And yes, I have given a lot of thought to this! When you're a frustrated gay teenager (and is there another kind?), pretty much anything in pants starts getting mentally undressed, or made-over and then undressed. "Sure come in, but you can't stay long, we're kinda in the middle of packing up."
"Maybe I could help?" He sounded so pathetic I was almost prepared to ignore the fact that he was the clumsiest person I knew. But I decided to decline the offer, I was pretty sure my mom wouldn't want a stranger poking around in our private stuff. "Hey, Mrs. Q." As if reading my mind, my mom had come into the hall.
"Hello, Josh. Honey, why don't you take some time to talk to Josh, I can manage on my own for a bit." She pushed an errant strand of hair out of her eyes and smiled at the two of us.
"Thanks, mom." Good old mom, time off to have an awkward conversation with a guy I only half know and entirely think is boring. "We'll be out in the gardens." Did I mention my dad had pots of cash? No? Well, no `yard' for us, oh no we had terraced gardens sloping down from the back of a house to a gazebo and a stream at the bottom. We headed out there now and walked side by side along the arbor in silence.
"So, Josh, um, not to sound rude, but, why are you here?" I stopped and faced him, his face mostly obscured in the shadows cast by leaves and branches.
"I wanted to say goodbye."
"You did that already."
"I know, I wanted to do it properly." He paused and took his glasses off to polish them on his shirt tail, "and I guess I wanted to talk to you, too."
"About what?"
"I don't know. Stuff. Like that I'll miss you?" He looked up, squinting hopefully at me, obviously expecting me to respond in kind.
"Well, I'll miss you too, old buddy." I thought I sounded pretty hearty, even if I was lying, but he seemed to notice something in my tone.
"Really?" He put his glasses back on and looked me hard in the face.
"Yes. Really." I was firm. This time he accepted my words and we started moving again, downhill towards the stream.
"I brought you a present." He said quietly.
"You didn't have to do that." I said automatically, because it was the right thing to say, I'd never actually refuse a present. "What is it?" He handed me a small, poorly wrapped rectangle that looked and felt pretty much book sized.
"Open it." I pulled at the paper and revealed a small quarter-bound volume, it looked pretty old and the words on the spine were faded so I couldn't easily make them out. "It's the `Analects of Confucius', I thought it might, you know, help keep you philosophical about, um, stuff. You don't like it, do you?"
I realised I had been standing in silence staring at the book. It was lovely, and I was really touched that he'd got it for me and that he'd remembered me talking about Confucius months before. I choked back what might have been the beginnings of a tear and said, "No! I love it. It's wonderful, thanks so much, Josh." And impulsively I hugged him. I heard him suck his breath in sharply and felt him tense up so I let go immediately and mumbled an apology.
"It's okay, really." He answered, but his voice sounded strained and I knew I'd gone too far. But fuck it, I was leaving in the morning so I wouldn't have to avoid him at school and like I said, I always thought he was kinda boring anyway. "Let's sit down." He indicated the gazebo and I tried to conceal my surprise that he hadn't just left then and there. We wandered over and took a seat. It was a little lighter here because of the moon reflecting off the water, but screened from the rest of the garden. I snorted aloud.
"What's funny?" He asked.
"Nothing. I was just thinking that this was a pretty romantic spot. I guess my parents must've been into one another at some point." I snorted laughter again.
"It is kinda romantic." There was a long pause while neither of us spoke, me processing what he'd just said and him, presumably, processing what he was about to say. He cleared his throat and started, hesitantly, to speak and then it all came out in a rush. "Drew, if the answer's no, I understand, but with you leaving tomorrow, well, I guess, it's pretty much now or never, and I've wanted to ask you for so long, but, well, you seemed so, like, normal, that I could never make myself say the words, and Jeez, I've really screwed this up, haven't I?" He stopped speaking.
"Josh, I'm not sure I..." I trailed off slightly nonplussed by his outburst.
"Oh, fuck it." He said, and suddenly he was kissing me. On my lips. Me. A guy. Him too, come to that. A guy, that is. My brain was completely unable to come up with a single coherent thought, I was stunned. But not, thank God (or evolution, or whatever the fuck), too stunned to respond. I brought my hands up and placed them on his back, stroking the soft flannel fabric of his shirt, suddenly aware of how firm Josh's body was. That must have reassured him and he wrapped his arms around me too. And for the next five minutes we just got totally into kissing each other - my first kiss! But, oh fuck, why now?!
"Wow." He said, coming up for air and grinning sheepishly at me. I just stared back at him, too amazed to say anything. "I thought you'd hit me or something." He added.
"Hit you?"
"Yes, you know, for being a, well, a fag." He said hesitantly, his voice dropping off on the last word.
"A fag?" I realised I was parroting what he was saying. "Yes. I guess so." Oh that was so much better, made much more sense! Where was the Andrew Quinn patented snappy comeback when I needed it?
"But you didn't."
"No, I didn't."
"You kissed me back!" He was grinning like an idiot now.
"Yes, I did." Clearly something more than that was expected of me, "Maybe we could do it again?" It was my turn to sound hesitant. But at least it was better than sounding like a total retard. I reached up and lifted his glasses off his face, folding them and placing them on the book next to me on the bench. I looked at his eyes, a delicate shade of blue, slightly watery without his glasses, but nice nevertheless. He smiled shyly, and I realised that he had tried to do something with his blondish hair, but that it was naturally unruly and running a comb through it wasn't going to do the trick. The boy needed a stylist. But time was a' wastin', so I cupped his chin and kissed him again, his fingers played with my hair as our tongues writhed against each other.
"Why didn't you say something before now?" I asked him as we broke the second kiss, this time keeping our arms draped around one another.
"I was scared you'd hit me, or hate me, or worse, just laugh at me. You're so beautiful." He breathed.
"Beautiful? ME?" I was incredulous. I stand a shade over five foot ten, and I guess I have a pretty good body, no fat and some definition, but nothing amazing. I play sports, but I'm no jock. I've always thought my best features are my eyes which are a dark brown, so dark that sometimes it's hard to tell the pupil from the iris. I've stared into my own eyes in a mirror often enough to know that I have killer eyes. I keep my hair pretty short and my teeth are straight and white, but other than that my face is unremarkable, too rounded for my liking. But, hey, it's all in the eye of the beholder, right?
"Yes. You." Said my particular beholder laying his hand on my thigh. I became painfully aware, for the first time, that his hand was not the only thing pressing insistently against my thigh. "Can I touch you?" His voice was soft and scared.
I was about to tell him he already was, when I realised what he meant: could he touch my dick. Well, share and share alike I was always taught, so I nodded my assent and his face lit up. I swallowed, this was going pretty fast, but like he'd said it was now or never and my hesitancy was only mental, my body had quite distinct notions. Time for Mr. Brain to shut his big yap and sit back to enjoy the ride!
His fingers were fiddling inexpertly with the button-fly of my jeans, my shirt (untucked and with tails hanging out, of course) was getting in his way, the humanitarian in me decided to help him out and I unbuttoned it pushing it aside, exposing my abdomen and the top of my jeans. He leaned closer to see what he was doing in the dark and I felt his breath warm on my skin. I put my hand on the back of his head and stroked his hair gently, he gasped again and finally succeeded in undoing the top button. From there, he seemed to find the rest easier, but I was paying more attention to the feeling of the back of his neck under my hand, so the next thing I was aware of is him reaching into my pants and touching my dick. I stiffened - and I do mean all over!
"Oh, God!" He gasped and I felt the words against my skin. "I can't believe this is happening to me." You can't believe it's happening to YOU? I almost laughed aloud again, but was prevented by the sudden tentative brushing of his fingers on my chest, I drew my breath in and let it out slowly. His fingers had finally negotiated my shorts and my dick, hard as a rock, was in his hand. The feeling of someone else's hand was electric, like nothing I'd ever felt before, any of the countless times I'd jacked off. I have about six inches, what I'd always thought of as a pretty good handful and it seemed to suit Josh well enough.
He started to stroke rhythmically up and down, and I knew this was not going to last too long, but I just didn't care. It felt much too good to try to get him to slow down or stop. I had a brief flash of guilt that I was getting all the pleasure here. "Sit up, I want to do you." I murmured.
"Don't worry about it." He said glancing up at me and blushing. Then he did something totally unexpected, he put the head of my dick in his mouth! And if I thought his hand had felt good, well I'd felt nothing like this! My breathing was pretty uneven as the moist, tightness of his mouth moved up and down slightly, his fist still pounding away at the remaining inches of my shaft that weren't in his mouth. Oh. My. God.
"Andrew?" My mother's voice drifted across the gardens from the house and my entire body tensed, partly from fear of being caught like this and partly because Josh had just pushed me over the edge. I felt my balls tightening as the rush of orgasm began to overtake me. I cried out, half in warning to Josh and half in response to my mom.
"I'm coming!" And so I did. Josh didn't stop his sucking though, to my surprise he stayed exactly where he was and swallowed my entire load. I had tasted my cum before and never really cared for it, maybe like my beauty it was all a question of taste?
"Okay. Hurry up." I faintly heard my mom call back to me. I started to laugh, uncontrollably until tears were running down my face. When I got a grip of myself, Josh was looking at me with a strange grin on his lips - part cat that got the cream' (so to speak!) and part what is he on?' - and a flush on his cheeks.
"That was the most amazing thing I've ever experienced." I told him taking his hands in mine and trying to pack as much sincerity into my voice as I could. "Let me do you now?"
"There's no need, um, I already..." He looked very embarrassed. "Well, I already finished." He came while he was sucking me off? That was kinda flattering!
"Oh. Well, kiss me some more."
"You should go, your mom's calling for you." He suddenly seemed like he wanted out of there really bad, like he was embarrassed by what had just happened. Much as I wanted to stay with him for longer and kiss him more, he was already on his feet as I buttoned up my shirt and put everything back where it was meant to be. "Thanks." He kissed me lightly on the lips, put his glasses on and thrust the book into my hands. We made our way back up the path to the house.
"Write me?" He said as I was seeing him out the front door. There was a pleading note in his voice.
"I will, I promise." I checked for my mom, sneaked one more quick kiss and then he was gone. As he walked away I thought I heard a slight sob.
That night I slept fitfully, to say the least, and I heard my mother get up more than once during the night, moving around the house and once peeking in at me and sighing. She's a good woman, my mom, she tried hard to make a go of everything and bent over backwards for me, and I did fuck all for her. Funny how you only appreciate a thing when it's way too late. From now on I resolved to be the best son I could possibly be. To be upbeat and helpful at all times so my mom never doubted she'd done the right thing. Wasn't going to be that hard, truth be told, I had pretty much hated it here for the last three or four years. Ever since I was old enough to really be aware of what was going on in fact. The only fly in the ointment was, of course, Josh. Sigh!
"You ready, Hon?" Came my mother's voice from the bottom of the stairs as I crawled around my room (my former room) looking for my other sneaker.
"Just a sec!" I called back.
"Well, hurry up, we ought to get going soon." Why? In case California starts moving away in the other direction? Moms!
"Okay!" I finally found my shoe and I was ready to rock and roll. I picked up the book Josh had given me and stroked the soft leather of the cover. Taking a deep breath to prepare myself, I closed the door on my old life! Actually, I guess the front door was sort of the door to my old life. But I couldn't resist saying that.
My mom took first shift driving, and I buried my nose in `Analects' until we were past the city limits and coming up fast on the state line, then I wound down my window and hurled something out into the trees beside the road.
"What was that?" My mom sounded tense.
"Oh, nothing much." I favored her with a lopsided grin.
"C'mon Andrew Timothy Quinn, spill." My mom used my full name, as she always used to when I was in trouble.
"Well..." I decided to drag things out a bit. "You know how dad never carries a key?" My mom was expected to be in when he got back from wherever the fuck he had been.
"Yes?" There was amusement in her tone now.
"Well, that was the spare key from under the flowerpot."
"It's not a flowerpot, it's a jardiniere, dear." My mother tried to be serious, but couldn't manage it and burst out laughing, swerving into the middle of the road. I grabbed the wheel to keep us straight.
"Mom! Watch the road!" Jeez, it wasn't that funny.
"Sorry!" She wiped the tears from her eyes and took a deep breath before gripping the steering wheel again, but she was still smiling and shaking her head. "That was very wrong, Andrew. Your poor father'll have to pay a fortune for a locksmith."
"Assuming he can find a `phone to call one." I smiled at her.
"Where did you learn such behaviour, young man?" She patted my knee.
The rest of the day passed pretty much in silence as we drove. Me taking over driving every couple of hours so my mom didn't get too tired. We stopped twice to eat in towns we passed on the way but didn't talk too much. I guess mom was thinking about stuff, about what we were doing. About what we were going to do. I know I was! Half of me was really looking forward to a new start, the other half dreaded the whole damn thing and wanted to be back in Josh's arms. But I'm a realist, and I knew that wasn't about to happen.
To Be Continued ===============