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Powell and Me 4
Three days later, I was coming out of the bathroom and Powell grabbed me. There's a little alcove where there's supposed to be a drinking fountain, but they took it out years ago. He pushed me into it. I imagine if you were just walking by, it looked like he was just leaning against the wall. I was trapped.
"Hi, Powell," I said.
"Shut up!" he growled.
The noise in the halls between classes faded, then the bell rang and it got quiet. "Pow--"
"I said shut up!"
It felt like forever before he started talking. His lips were tight. "I'm not a faggot. Understand?"
"Yeah." It seemed like the best answer, under the circumstances.
"You looked like a girl."
"Without tits." I hoped it sounded like I was agreeing with him.
"I was just getting off."
"Okay."
"I'm not like you."
"Right."
"Don't get smart with me."
"You're not like me. I agreed, that's all."
"I'm not a faggot."
I didn't answer.
"Straight guys do shit like that, right?" he pressed.
"I don't know what straight guys do. I'm gay."
"I'm not a gay!"
"Didn't say you were."
We both waited, like a firecracker was about to go off. "I don't know what to do," Powell said, at last, and his eyes fell.
"What, ah, what do you want to do?" Please don't say break my neck.
"What we did," he whispered, soft enough that I might have been reading his mind.
I nodded my head. "But you can't."
Anger flared in his eyes and he leaned closer. "Says who?"
"You, Powell. You won't let yourself, or something."
"Because I'm not ... you know."
"Powell--Danny, listen to yourself. You know the truth. You must!"
Powell shook his head. "No! I can't--It isn't true!!" His face was hardening, anger filling it like juice in a glass.
"You can lie to me if you want to, but you can't lie to yourself!" That came out louder than I'd expected, and he pulled back in surprise. "I know this part, Danny, where you're all trying to convince yourself it was just one time and you're not ... you know! You can play this game as long as you want to, but you know the truth, and things will be all fucked up until you admit it! They were for me!"
"You said you always--"
"When I looked back, yeah. I was dumb as dirt, or hiding from myself--hiding it from myself, I mean, but--" God, this stuff is hard to talk about. "No, I was right the first time. I was hiding from myself. And so are you!"
"I'll break your goddamn face!"
"Go ahead." I stared into Powell's eyes. It didn't matter if he broke my face, right then. I just wanted it to be over. Everything.
Neither of us moved.
"I don't know what to do," Danny whispered again. It was a plea for help.
"I get it. Look, it's not like you're going to die, or anything. You just ... know a little more about yourself. That's good, right? Knowing who you are?"
"I don't know. It's ... fuck me, I'm scared."
"We all are, at first. But I'm still me. I'm still Eddie. I'm still a nerd who likes to read, and stuff; I still think the cafeteria food sucks, and--"
"It does, doesn't it?" Powell--no, it was Danny--laughed and so did I, way too hard for what he said.
I felt relief flooding through me. "You okay?"
Danny shook his head. "I still don't know what to do."
"Well, there's always the boathouse."
Powell shut his eyes for a moment, and I think I saw him actually shudder. "You want to?"
"Yes," I whispered. "Even just to hold you, you know? Or just talk. No sex, if you don't want--"
"That's the point, Eddie. God help me, I do."
"Feel like a pizza? I could meet you there and we could not have a slice."
"It is really lousy pizza, right?" Danny nodded and stepped away, and we headed down the hall, careful not to walk too close together. He rounded the corner a couple of yards ahead of me, and I heard "Powell! Hall pass?" Shit! It was the Assistant Principal.
"I don't have one. I got stuck in the--"
"Save it, Powell. I'm tired of excuses. Detention. And don't try to duck out of it!"
I couldn't make out Powell's reply.
"You want Detention tomorrow, too?"
"No, Sir," Powell said, and the sound of his voice made me want to rush to his rescue, but how?
"Now get to class, Powell! Move it!"
I let Powell's footsteps fade, then started whistling and "strolled" around the corner.
"Eddie! Why aren't you in class? Is something wrong?" The Assistant Principal was being nice to me, which made me hate the guy even more.
"Fuck, no," I said. "Just taking my time."
The Assistant Principal frowned. "Well, you'd better put some speed on, if you're going to get to class on time."
I shrugged. "It's math class. It'll wait."
"What's going on, Eddie? You're not behaving like you--"
"So? You going to put me in Detention?" That was supposed to sound tough, but I never talked to him-- to anyone, really--like that, so ...
Assistant Principal Cruikshank scrunched up his eyes and his brows ran together. "Yes, I am, Edward. I don't know what's going on, but that wise-guy attitude just earned you Detention. We'll see if that won't get you back on track."
"Yessir," I replied. Perfect. I spent the rest of the day being the only kid in the universe who looked forward to Detention.
Powell's jaw dropped when I walked into Detention. It was perfect, though. We'd have to take the city bus, so his buddies wouldn't see us, and he had a perfect excuse. Unless one of them showed up in Detention, too. I hadn't thought of that! A couple of other kids showed up, but neither of them knew Powell--except by reputation, I suppose. When they settled in, I realized I was sitting closer to him than anyone else in the room. Mister Dorn gave us a little speech about "reflecting on what brought us here," and "the importance of taking school seriously," and then told us to sit and study and be quiet for the rest of the hour unless we wanted to wind up with another day of Detention. Finally, he sat down behind his desk with a magazine in front of his face.
Powell coughed. I waited a second before I looked in his direction. He winked at me.
We left school an hour later and headed for the city bus stop. "How'd you get Detention?" Powell asked.
"I wised off to Cruikshank."
"Why'd you do a dumbshit thing like that?"
"So we could go to the boathouse," I said, looking down the street for the bus.
"Damn," Powell said. "You got balls."
"Yours are bigger."
"Are not," he sighed. "I don't get it."
"What?"
"Why I feel this way."
"What would be different if you knew?"
"Huh?" Powell looked like I'd suddenly started talking in Russian, or something.
"I'm gay, Danny. I don't know why, but if I did, I'd still be gay, so it doesn't matter."
"But if you could fix it, wouldn't you want to?"
"Sure, I guess. No. I mean, if I'd never been gay, I don't suppose I'd want to be gay, but now that I am gay ... it would be like starting all over again, or something. It would be like finding out I was somebody else, all of a sudden."
"That's what it feels like for me."
The bus interrupted us. I paid both of our fares and we found a seat between two empty ones. "But is it different? Or just new?"
Powell frowned. "New is different!"
"I guess." We were quiet for a couple of stops. "You're still in charge, though," I went on, at last. "I mean, you still get to decide who to ... you know." Then this old guy sat down behind us.
Powell jerked his head toward the guy, like telling me to shut up. "Yeah," he admitted, but it was clear he wanted that to be the end of our discussion. So we were quiet until we got through the fence. Then, he turned to me. "Can we try some stuff?"
"Like what?"
He actually blushed. "I don't know, just ... stuff."
"Sure," I grinned. "Why not?" Things went quiet again, until we were in the boathouse. Then we stood looking at each other for a while. Finally, I reached up and unbuttoned my shirt, and watched Powell do the same thing. I kicked off my shoes, and so did he. We watched each other take off our jackets and shirts, and then I took off my t-shirt. After a second, Powell took off his undershirt. "Can I touch your chest?" I whispered, and he nodded.
I'm not going to try to describe Powell's body any more. I mean, I thought it was gorgeous, but what does that really tell you? His skin was smooth, except for this little line of hair from the middle of his chest down to his navel, and then it sort of spread out and disappeared behind his pants. But his skin was solid, almost like stone. I could feel the muscles, and how some of them twitched when I touched him. "You can touch me, too," I whispered, and I saw his right hand reaching out and the fingers disappearing from sight just as they touched my side, and I giggled. "Tickles," I explained.
He smiled, and his fingers slid up my side and traced the top of my collarbone and slid lightly down the middle of my chest, and he touched my nipples, one at a time, and then pressed both palms against my pecs, and then wrapped his arms around me and pulled me close to him.
My hands were on his back, following the valley of his spine and then his hand was on the back of my head and he pulled it to him and we were kissing. His eyes were closed. Our tongues met and he pulled back suddenly, startled. He was really blushing now, no question. And my face felt all hot. I smiled. "Nice," I said.
"We kissed, I guess."
"I liked it," I nodded. "We can do it again, if--" But Powell was already undoing his belt, so I went to work on mine. He was cute and awkward getting his pants off. I smiled some more. It was so ... un- Powell. It was Danny. Definitely Danny. I got my pants and underpants off, and stood there while Danny looked at me for a few seconds, then shrugged, and took off his underpants, so there we were, naked except for our socks.
"Turn around. Slow," Danny said, and I did. "Stop," he said, and I did, with my back to him. I felt him behind me, and he wrapped his arms around me and sort of nuzzled my neck above my right shoulder, and his hands slid down to my crotch. "Feels weird," he whispered, exploring my rigid cock. I gasped when his fingers touched my balls. "Sorry."
"It's okay," I answered. I pressed my head back, trying to get to his ear. And then I felt his cock pressing against my ass. "I can feel your cock," I whispered. "It feels good." I remembered my painful experiments with Mike Silver, and I wondered if things might be different, this time.
"Can I do something?"
I could feel Danny's voice in his throat. Here we go. Please, please let this feel as good as it's supposed to, this time! "I think--"
"I want to lick your tits."
Oh. "Yeah! Sure!"
I turned around to face Danny, and he sort of nibble-kissed his way down to my left nipple, and then worked his way across to my right nipple. "Feel good?" he murmured.
"Yeah." God, yes!
So he squeezed them, just a little, between his fingers, and kissed and licked and almost sucked on them, back and forth. After a few passes, he knelt down, and my cock pressed against his chest. "Uummm," I purred, eloquently, and all I could think of was how good that mouth would feel, lower down. I realized I was pushing his shoulders.
"I can't--I don't know how to ... do that," Danny said, pulling his head back and looking up at me.
"It's all right," I smiled. "I'll show you." We switched positions, and I started licking his cock, the head first, and then around the edge of the head, and then the top, and the side, and the bottom and the other side, pulling moans out of him. Then, I pressed his cock to his belly so I could examine his balls. I was pretty sure I couldn't get them both into my mouth at the same time, and I sure didn't want to take any risks with them. So I licked them gently, one at a time, and then worked my way back up to the head of his shaft and took it into my mouth.
He whimpered. Putty in my hands--or mouth. His hands were trembling, but he kept them on my shoulders and let me slowly work his cock into my mouth. Not putty, then. Bronze, again, smooth and hot bumpy in places, reaching for the back of my throat and me sliding down, then back and down again, further, until he couldn't take it any more and just stabbed into me and I felt his cum pumping along and pouring out and heard these little whimpers that I'm pretty sure weren't coming from me. And then he let me pull back a bit, and I could feel him softening so I worked it a little with my lips and heard him hiss, "Shit! Don't! It's too much!"
He pulled out and knelt next to me and we lay down and he whispered in my ear. "I can't believe ... you feel so fucking good! Eddie ... Eddie, Eddie, Eddie!" And he pulled me over so I was on top of him and we kissed again, and this time our tongues explored each other for a bit. Then he pulled my head back and said, "Can you kneel up like last time?"
I scrambled into position, one knee on each side of his stomach.
"No, closer," he said, pulling my butt towards his face.
I scrambled forward, grinding dirt into my knees, until my cock was almost to his chin, and then he raised his head and licked the tip.
He dropped his head back. "Just tastes like skin," he announced. "Come closer."
So I did, leaning over his head so my cock was pointed at his mouth. "Closer," he said, and I put the tip of my shaft right on his lips, and he started licking on it. He slid his hand in and moved my dick around so he could lick the sides and the bottom. "Take your time," I whispered, fighting off the urge to just go for broke.
He licked and kissed it for a while and I struggled to hold back my juice until it wasn't possible any more. "I'm gonna shoot!" I gasped, and he put his hands flat against my crotch so I was in the crotches of his thumbs and it was almost like I was flying, or something, and my cock just exploded all over his face. He guided my body to his side and smeared his face against me, from bellybutton to neck, laughing and licking at the same time.
I shifted around so I could get his cock back into my mouth and began working it, and I felt his lips on my cock, sliding along one side, so I did the same. Every time he changed, I did, as well. I wanted him to suck me, of course, so I could suck him, but I didn't want to trigger his gag reflex. I just wanted us to keep doing what we were doing. Forever. But nature took over, of course. "I'm gonna cum again!" I whispered.
Danny took my cock in his hand and worked it while I dove onto his. I felt myself shooting, probably all over his chest, and then he poured another load down my throat.
We rolled apart, both of us covered with muddy cum, too exhausted to do more than stare above us. After a bit, without discussing it or anything, we both sat up. "I'm a mess," Danny sighed, but it wasn't a complaint.
"Me, too," I agreed.
"I guess we should have brought towels, or something," Danny said. "I don't know if our undershirts are going to be enough."
They weren't, but we did what we could, and--apart from our hair--we looked almost presentable when we left the boathouse. The walk back to the fence was different, somehow. I still followed Danny, but his walk was looser, more comfortable. Easy. Once we were through the fence, his body stiffened, ready for an attack, or something. Powell was back. Just before we left the alley, he turned to me. "Now what?" he asked.
"Back to ... normal, I guess." I smiled and put "normal" in air quotes. "We don't know each other, and you're pretending to be straight."
Powell frowned at "pretending." "I am straight," he said, then just stood for a second. "I'm not, though."
"You're still Powell. You're still you. You've just added a detail," I suggested.
"That's like saying adding a new second floor to a skyscraper is 'adding a detail'," he challenged.
He was right. That was a pretty good metaphor, I had to admit. Or simile, maybe. "I won't tell anyone anything," I reminded him. "My mom and dad think I'm helping a kid with homework."
"Some homework," he chuckled. "I ... I really like you, Eddie."
"I like you, too, Dan--Powell." I so wanted to say "love." But not here, I couldn't.
"I get it, Eddie. Danny likes you, too. But so does Powell. He just can't admit it, yet. Better get across the street. The bus's coming!"
"Shit!" And that quickly, the real world was back. I caught the bus and found a seat on the street side, so I could watch Powell as the bus pulled out. He was headed down Wilson and I guess when you care about someone every detail stands out, like how he moves. This was Powell as I'd first seen him, braced and ready for battle.
I settled in and grabbed my phone to call Mom. What the hell? It was almost six o'clock! I forgot to allow for the hour in Detention! And of course, I couldn't get a signal. And my clothes were a mess--by Mom's standards, anyway.
And then I realized I was on the wrong bus! I panicked, pulled the stop cord, and hurried back to Wilson. "Come on!" I pleaded to the bus gods! "I've got to get home, or --" And I suddenly realized that my own stupidity had saved me. I grabbed my phone.
"Hello?"
"Mom? It's me! I didn't want you to worry! I--"
"Too late, Edward. Where are you? Are you all right?"
"I'm fine, Mom. I just got on the wrong bus. I'll be home pretty quick now. Here comes the right one!"
"We're going to have a little talk when you get home, young man! Be careful!"
"I will, Mom. Love you!" I hung up before she could say more. The bus was only a block away, after all.