Pt.I/Chapter 4 Legal Notice:
The following contains descriptions of mild sexual acts between consenting underage boys. It is an original work of fiction and has no basis in reality.
Do not read this story if:
- You're not 18 or over.
- If it is illegal to read this type of material where you live.
- If you don't want to read about gay/bisexual people in love or having sex.
The author retains copyright (2003) to this story. Reproducing this story for distribution without the author's permission is a violation of that copyright.
Perry and Jesse: The Incredibly Romantic (and slightly kinky) Adventures of Two Boys In Love
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Part I First Encounters**
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Chapter 4 The First Visit**
The week of Jesse’s impending visit turned out to be a busy one, making the time go by much quicker than it otherwise might have. We had our first two major tests of the year, English on Tuesday, and Math on Thursday. Thursday night we had a basketball game with a visiting team from Escondido-- from a much bigger school than ours--and we won. We won!
On Tuesday morning, Tom met up with me in the parking lot and he looked a little...odd, like he was nervous or apprehensive about something.
“What’s up, dude?” I asked, as we high fived each other. I liked Tom a lot. Even though he was only a few months younger than me, I always felt that he behaved more like a kid than the rest of us. We were at that age where we still had the energy and enthusiasm of a preteen, but mixed with the growing need to be perceived of as ‘cool’ in front of our peers. That meant showing a certain restraint in most things, whether it was standing in line for something without squirming, using the most up to date slang when we spoke to each other, not letting our mom’s hug or kiss us in public, and all the other things that distinguished teenagers from the younger kids. Not to mention all the issues involved in our outward appearance: clothes, hair, accessories......don’t even get me started on that one! But Tom always had a boyish smile on his sweet face, and wanted a high five, refusing to stand down until his hand was properly smacked. He was always bursting with energy, and always wanted to be doing something physical, whether it involved an organized game like basketball or baseball, or just rough housing with whoever happened to be standing closest to him at the time.
He loved to grab kids around the waist and try to lift them up, even though, at five foot three, he was one of the smaller boys in our class. Sometimes, this got him into trouble when one of the other guys deemed that sort of horseplay to not be cool and appropriate behavior for a teenager. It also wasn’t a gesture that endeared him to the female population of St. Boniface, and he had been scolded by the staff on more than one occasion, since grabbing someone by the waist and trying to lift them off the ground also involved Tom grinding his crotch into the thighs or butt of whomever he had in his clutches at the moment. As for myself, I went along with him as much as I could, and if I thought the time or place was not conducive to such horseplay, I’d simply tell him to knock it off--but in a lighthearted way--and he’d always back off, giving me an apologetic smile.
So when I saw him approach me in the parking lot, I assumed I was in for some early morning squeezing. But he had his hands uncharacteristically stuffed in his pockets, and he had that odd look on his face that puzzled me.
“Nothing much,” he responded with an uneasy shrug to my greeting and inquiry.
“Ready for the big English test?” I asked.
Tom shrugged again. “Hey, I speak English all the time so it should be a breeze!” he responded with a little of his boyish sense of humor. Then his smile disappeared again and he got that nervous look as he stood next to me, fidgeting.
“So, what do you think of the new kid?” he asked, trying to sound like the question had just popped into his head. By the way he asked it though, I knew that it was more than an attempt at idle conversation.
“You mean Jesse?” I asked.
Tom nodded. “He’s kinda shy, huh?”
“Actually, he’s pretty cool once you get to know him,” I answered honestly.
Tom gave me a strange, pondering look. I hoped I hadn’t said the wrong thing. Tom and I had become good friends over the last year, especially playing together on the baseball team last spring. He was a great pitcher--what he lacked in strength, he made up for in speed and accuracy. I was sure he’d make starting pitcher this year.
“So, you’re getting to know him pretty well?” Tom asked.
Now I was starting to wonder where all of this was leading to. I became a little more thoughtful with my responses.
“Actually, I can’t say that I know him that well,” and that was certainly the truth at the moment. “I think things were different for him back in Illinois, but he doesn’t really talk about it much.”
“But you like him?” Tom asked, and the way he put the emphasis on ‘like,’ sent some sort of signal to my brain that it wasn’t quite able to interpret. Did he have some sense of my true feelings for Jesse? I didn’t think he or anyone else had seen me having my nervous breakdown last week, and I tried not to treat Jesse any differently then I treated my other friends, especially in public. Still...there must be times when I was staring at him, simply because I was so dumbstruck by his appearance. Had Tom noticed? Were my big, stupid eyes giving me away yet again?
“Well, we’ve only really talked away from the rest of the group just a few of times on the phone. Friday at the mall was the first time I really saw him away from school...but yeah, I guess I do.” If I could get away with telling the truth, than that was always my preference. I wasn’t a natural born liar. Not that I didn’t do it sometimes. It was just that it didn’t seem to come as easily to me as it did to others. The lie always seemed to come out of my mouth feeling different than the truth did, and I imagined most people were perceptive enough to pick up on that--my mom certainly was! Also, any time I lied or thought about lying, it reminded me of my dad, and how he had deceived my mom about his affair for a year before finally coming clean and filing for divorce. So I always stuck to the truth when I could.
“He seems cool,” Tom agreed. “I like his hair and stuff...He looks like he should be on TV or something...” He laughed nervously after making that comment, and even though it caught me by surprise, I just nodded in silent agreement. Was it possible that I had a rival for Jesse’s affections? I desperately hoped not, since I had no idea how I would handle such a situation. The whole idea of being infatuated with someone--and there was no question at this point that I was infatuated with Jesse Taylor--was so new to me, that I didn’t think I would have the energy, or the wit, to engage in some sort of battle to see who could win Jesse’s attention.
“Anyway, I was just wondering about him, is all,” Tom concluded, and started heading towards homeroom. I was still pondering his last comment, and he stopped after a few steps, waiting for me to join him.
“I guess it’s always interesting, having a new kid in class,” I remarked.
“Yeah, I remember last year--you were the new kid!” Tom said with a laugh. “You were pretty shy back then...”
“I got over it, and I think Jesse will to,” I said, although I wasn’t sure that I entirely believed that. There were so many things about Jesse that I didn’t know, but I felt like I should. And my conversation with Tom was more confusing than anything else. I decided that I needed to be careful what I said around him concerning Jesse, and I also decided that I needed to be more careful about the way I behaved around Jesse--especially the staring part!
While school and basketball kept me pretty busy all week, I found myself spending all my free time thinking about Jesse, about my intense feelings for him, my almost desperate need to be his one and only true best friend, and the other, more physical things that his upcoming visit brought to the fore. While I had never disregarded sex before--even back in La Jolla I had smuggled a couple of Playboy type magazines into my bedroom--it had been sort of a moot issue. First, there had been the trauma of my parent’s divorce--not that it had been a particularly ugly one because my mom pretty much gave up early on, her one and only concern being that she have prime custody of me--a demand my father seemed more than willing to make. Then there was the move to a new town--even though it was less than an hour drive back to La Jolla, it might as well have been on the other side of the state. We never went back and I knew that my mom didn’t want to face those old memories. The only connection I had with my old life were a few guys that I kept in touch with via email. I was actually surprised how quickly I was able to put all that behind me, once I started attending St. Boniface.
Once I met Morgan, and the rest of the crew, I was caught up with spending time with my new friends--sports, the mall, the arcade, movies, books--it seemed like a full and satisfying life to a young teenager. As I said before, I had my goofy little foot fetish, and I found my eye attracted to both girls and boys that I found intriguing in some way, but I didn’t obsess over any one person. I knew that it was normal to like girls, and there were some I found attractive, like Katy, Jessica and Melissa in my class. But I wasn’t ready to go out on a date or anything and I didn’t feel any urgent need to make physical contact with them in a sexual way--it just wasn’t a big deal--until now.
When Jesse Taylor walked into our class and into my life, all that began to change. Suddenly, I was fascinated by the way another kid looked, not just because of some peculiar physical trait, or because he reminded me of some celebrity (although there was no question that Jesse would have made a great tennybopper heart throb!), but because I found him to be the embodiment of some ideal teenage form that had been planted somewhere in the back of my mind, but had never really made itself known before.
I had become obsessed with thinking about him in ways that could only be described as purely sexual. In the last few weeks, I had gone from stupid fantasies about Jesse taking off his shoes at my house, to the two of us lying naked on my bed. I found myself trying to imagine what every part of Jesse’s body looked like without clothes: his chest, his stomach, his shoulders, his back, his legs, and especially his ass. And most disturbingly, I wanted to see his private parts! Even in my thirteen year old suburban naivete, I knew that wasn’t quite right. If I was obsessed with seeing another boy naked--I must be gay! Holy shit!
Sometimes, it just frightened me to death, made me want to force all my feelings for Jesse out of my mind, made me think that it was high time I started dating. But other times, it just consumed me. I loved thinking about Jesse’s body and what it would be like to touch him...everywhere. I knew, from that day he touched my cheek in the john, that I wanted to kiss him. That was supposed to be something boys and girls did--older boys and girls! The emotional hug we had shared after the incident at the mall never left my mind completely. While it had been a purely emotional moment, now when I looked back on it, remembered how it felt having him pressed to my chest, his hot breath on my neck, it made me harder than any issue of Playboy could.
So I spent that whole week in some sort of struggle with myself--was I gay or not gay? If I wasn’t, how could I explain my physical obsession? If I was gay, how would it affect my life? Would I be able to tell my mom? My friends? Would I be teased, or even beaten up because of it? It was starting to seem really scary, and I spent several nights tossing and turning as I grappled with myself--my true, undeniable feelings versus my worst fears.
Still, during the day, when I was in school, and Jesse was right there near me, it all seemed so simple and straight forward. I had strong feelings for him, feelings that seemed to grow every day. He was a remarkable, complex, smart person who I had to have in my life at any cost. And his radiant beauty--it never lessened no matter how much I tried to fight it, to tell myself that he was just another thirteen year old kid (though there were times when he could have easily passed for twelve or even eleven). He looked to be about five foot six and weighed maybe a hundred and twenty pounds at the most. He had arms and legs, and hands and feet, a nose for breathing, and a mouth for eating. What was the big deal? Plenty!
There was that beautiful, silky, golden blonde hair that fell in loose bangs on either side of his face, parted neatly in the middle. There were those full red lips and those creamy smooth cheeks. There was that rare smile that seemed to be just for me, and that raspy, not-quite-settled-in, young teenage voice, that sounded like a little kid’s when he giggled, but also had the ability to speak in a serious tone that made him sound wise beyond his years.
And there were those eyes...Damn those eyes! Those crystal blue eyes that seemed to sparkle with some inner light. When you really looked into them, which I admit was a hard thing for me to do because it was such a potent experience. They seemed as deep as the deepest ocean, but at the same time, clear as the clearest mountain lake. There were depths there, experiences completely beyond the scope of my sheltered existence, profound thoughts and passionate feelings...I sensed all those things in his sapphire eyes. His delicate, long lashes only reinforced the aesthetic beauty there. Yeah, it all seemed so simple...Now what Jesse might think about all this, there was a question to lose sleep over!
Friday finally arrived. It was a cool October day as we waited for my mom to swing into the school parking lot a little after noon. I had told Jesse to bring a comfortable change of clothes since I knew I was going to get out of my school things just as soon as I could when we got home. He had his stuff in his backpack and seemed nervous and excited. At least he wasn’t a total basketcase like me!
“You’re sure your mom is okay with this, Jesse?” my mom asked as we pulled out of the parking lot. It was a little late now, but I knew she was just covering her bases. “She knows I’ll be at work until six?”