Okay, this is not a story with a whole lot of sex. Some will come in here and there, but it is not the central theme. It's a story about love between men and self-acceptance, kinda like all of my stories are.
If you're under 18 or 21 or whatever, be aware that in some odd corner of the universe, you could possbly be breaking the law.
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IMPORTANT!!! This story includes excerpts of Paul & Morgan's memoir, which I will separate from the rest of the story with asteriks like the one's below. If this is confusing, e-mail me and let me know and I will try to figure something else out!
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Part Five
Paul & Morgan 3
Paul:
The rain started only a few days later. Not rain in the literal sense, but the rainy portion of my life. I was twelve years old and I had a monster crush on a guy that I considered to be the epitome of manhood. He played football and he hung out with my brother for crying out loud. There was no chance that he would want to have anything to do with me.
The only problem was, he did. He wanted to have something to do with me. It was a Saturday and I was up a little later than usual because weekend paper delivery was three hours later than the weekdays. I rode my bike back towards the house, having tossed all of the newspapers into their proper and respective yards. Normally, I didn't see Morgan on the weekends. He saved his jogging for school days, which made the task of waking up to deliver newspapers that much more depressing.
But he was there. As I headed for home, he was standing next to the bushes I always seemed to see him near. I slowed my bike and smiled at him shyly, my heart pounding overtime in my chest.
"Hi," I said a little awkwardly. Morgan stared down at me for a long moment and I was tempted to just ride off, then he smiled a little. So, I stayed put.
"Hey, kiddo," he said lightly and I winced a little. I didn't want to be his kiddo. It was okay if my dad or my great uncle Bert called me kiddo, but not Morgan.
"You going to see Ryan?" I asked and he shook his head. Silence stretched between us for a long moment and I sat there, feeling awkward.
"Okay, well, I guess I'll catch ya later," I said, moving to start pedalling again. He put one large hand on the handlebars and stared at me.
"Where ya headed?" he asked and I stared up at him uncertainly.
"Home," I said.
"You wanna hang out?" he asked and I stared at him, shocked.
"Sure," I said. Like I would say no. He was cool and he wanted to hang out with me?
"I wanna show you my backyard, you ever been back there?" he asked and I shook my head.
"An old couple lived there before, they didn't like kids all over their yard," I said and he pushed m a little, to get me off of the bike, I guess. He took the bike and hauled it up with one huge arm and started walking towards his house. I followed, feeling small and awkward with my carrier bag slung over my shoulder its dingy white and orange over my jacket and t-shirt.
Morgan leaned my bike against the side of the two-story brick house he lived in and led me through the huge, wooden fence that had always blocked my line of view. I gasped when I saw it, the entire backyard was a carefully sculpted garden with pristine, little paths and well-trimmed bushes strategically placed throughout. In the center of it all, a water fountain teemed, creating a peaceful sound. I stepped cautiously forward.
"Seems the old lady was big on gardens," Morgan said, shrugging. "My mom loves it." I peered around me in awe. Who would have thought that such a beautiful place existed behind that ugly wooden fence? So began my infatuation with gardens and with the beauty of landscaping.
"Its beautiful," I said quietly and Morgan smiled down at me, sending a wave of warmth through me. I grinned back.
"I thought you would like it," Morgan said and then took me by the hand - the hand! - and led me further into the garden. My entire being was focused on the fact that my hand was lying inside of his hand. I couldn't tell whether the pounding I felt was from my heart or his. I just followed him like a lamb to the slaughter.
Perfectly trimmed bushes lined one side of the garden and as we walked past it, I could see that there was a long white bench on one side of it. When Morgan and I sat on that bench, we were completely hidden from the rest of the world. The only thing I could fathom was that we were sitting on a bench and that my hand was still in his. I stared up at him with my heart in my eyes.
He smirked a little as his thumb played with the back of my hand.
"So, kiddo, seems like you have a crush on me," he said quietly and the dreamy quality of the moment evaporated for me. I looked away and tried to pull my hand back, but he held fast.
"You gonna answer that?" he asked. I kept staring off away from him.
"It wasn't a question," I mumbled and he laughed a little. Then, he turned me to face him. He held my face so that I was looking at him.
"Do you have a crush on me?" he asked.
I stared at him for a moment, considering. He didn't look like he was angry about it, but you could never be sure.
"Yep," I said quietly.
"Good," he said with satisfaction and let go of me. He started to unbutton his jeans. I stared at him, open-mouthed, my heart beating fast in my chest. What did he think he was doing? I had played with myself a lot but I had never seen another guy's schlong, not unless you counted Ryan and he didn't count. In those days, gay magazines in small Michigan towns were few and far between. Even mentioning anything about being queer was out of the question. I just stared at him in shock.
"W-what are you doing?" I asked, trembling as he pulled his jeans and white underwear down around his ankles. His dick popped out and bobbed a little. My eyes were glued to its giant image. He put his hand on it and started to move it up and down slowly.
"Come over here," he said, but I stayed rooted to the spot. He grinned at me, though, and something inside of me melted, but I still didn't move.
"Um," I said, searching for words. "What for?"
"Just come here," he said with a smirk and moved a little bit closer to him my eyes moving back down to his dick. It was red and ridged and...perfect. I wanted to touch it, but I had no idea how to start.
I'd played around with myself, but that was different. What if I did something stupid and he laughed at me? I could completely erase any hope of him liking me.
He took my hand and put it on his dick and I touched it lightly, circled my fingers around it silently. He leaned back on his hands and watched me, his eyes hooded and smoky. I bit my lip and tightened my grip on his shaft, moving my hand up and down slowly.
*** Morgan:
It had been so long since another guy touched me. I'd started messing around with girls, but with them, I had to do all the touching and if I so much as hinted that I wanted to let my dick out, the whole thing was over. It was the 60's and free sex was on its way to the big metropolis, but it wouldn't reach any small Michigan towns or cities for more than a decade.
Still, I was a fifteen year old with raging hormones and I knew how and where to get my rocks off. Paul seemed like the prime opportunity to me. I had come to a big conclusion the night before and that was that I wasn't going to let the little guy get inside my head. Whatever I felt for him, I was positive, would eventually go away, especially after we had messed around a few times.
So, lying in my bed that night, I devised a plan. I was going to seduce him in my mom's garden and then use him whenever I needed to get off and it wouldn't be such a bad deal for him either, because I'd make sure he got off, too...and it was obvious that he wanted me. I convinced myself that I was doing us both a favor.
From where I sat at that moment, the plan was working like I had never even dared to dream. I moved my dick in and out of his sweatly palm slowly, doing my best to hide the fact that his hand was driving me crazy. He had nice hands, long, thin fingers that told the story of how tall and lanky he was going to be years before he would ever hit a growth spurt.
I moved my hand to his lap and rubbed the bulge there. That's when he looked up at me with those brown eyes. There was such a mixture of awe, wonder and lust there and blind infatuation that something loosened inside of me. He looked down at my hand on him and the curve of his neck, the smooth ivory flesh there entranced me. He was so vulnerable. I buried my face in his neck and pressed my lips against the soft skin there, filled with this pressing need, an urgent desire that I couldn't identify but which I knew had absolutely nothing to do with sex.
These were the things that I did not want to think about, the feelings that I wanted to go away. It had to be about sex, just sex. If something else happened, then I was putting us both in for a world of hurt and I refused to do that.
He moved slowly against my lips, brushing my cheek with his. His nose bumped against mine and I could taste his breath, the lingering sweetness of it. His lips were wet and shining and beckoning at me. So, I did it. The one thing that I had never done with any other guy before in my life, not even Tim.
I kissed him. It was a slow peck at first, the kind where your lips press together and nothing much else, but when I moved back a little, he pressed in closer to me and his tongue delved into my mouth. I lost all of my sensible thoughts in that instant and came right in his hand.
Paul:
It was a good thing that he'd pulled his pants all the way down because he came all over the place, all over my hand and his thighs. I was so shocked that I stopped kissing him right away and pulled back to watch the him spurt everywhere.
"Shit," he hissed when he saw the mess and I started wiping my hand against the bushes behind us, half-heartedly. I was as hard as a rock.
"Hey, Anderson," a booming, male voice called and I knew at once that it was my brother. I almost shot up onto my feet, but Morgan pulled me down and held me there.
"Damn, stay down," he said, quickly pulling his underwear and jeans up in a fumbling motion. I crouched low on the bench, watching him with wide, terrified eyes.
"What's going on, Ryan?" he called, standing up and looking over the bushes.
"What are you doing back there, man?" Ryan asked suspiciously. "My little brother's bike is here, you seen him?"
"I'm doing some - uh- weeding for my mom," Morgan said quickly. "Just a sec, let me finish this spot."
Morgan crouched down and stared hard at me.
"Don't move a fucking muscle and wait about fifteen minutes, then scram," he said through his teeth. "You hear me?"
I nodded uncertainly, wanting the warm guy who'd held my hand and kissed me not even seconds before and seeing nothing but hardness in his place. He stood up and walked around the bushes and I listened and his voice mingled with my brothers and then faded away.
I waited, counting to sixty fifteen times before I stood up and peered cautiously over the bushes. They were nowhere to be seen. So, I hurried out and got onto my bike, pedalling away as fast as my legs could go. Somehow, I felt like the more distance I put between Morgan's house and myself, the faster the pain in my chest would disappear. ********************************************************************* Eric:
I finished the chapter and closed the file folder, dropping my red pen on Morgan's desk in the process. What a load crap that was, for him to treat Paul like shit after they'd had their hands wrapped around each other's dicks. Even I could see that. I had been hoping to see their romance blossom, I guess, and instead I was finding out what an asshole Morgan could be.
I pushed the chair, prepared to get up and go search out Paul or Morgan to drop off the edited copy when Morgan came into the room carrying a book full of receipts. I watched as he dropped them on the desk, not quite looking him in the eyes. I was annoyed with him, wanting to tell him what I thought of the way he had treated Paul, but not knowing quite what to say if I had the cance anyway.
Morgan stood there, looking down at my downcast eyes. His eyes fell on the closed file folder.
"You done with that?" he asked and, after a moment, I nodded. "What did you think?"
I shrugged. My conversations with Morgan were few and far between and I really didn't want to say the wrong thing to make matters worse than they already were.
"Did you think I was an asshole?" Morgan asked and when I looked up at him there was a smirk on his face. I could imagine that smirk on his face all those years ago when he and Paul were in his parent's garden. I nodded.
"Good," he said, heading for the door. "Because you remind me of myself."
I watched as he disappeared through the door, then he popped back in quickly.
"Paul ordered pizza, its in the break room," he said and left again.
I stared after him for a moment and then stood up. It was no use letting the pizza get cold. I picked up the folder and headed down the hall for the break room, which I normally steered clear of since Drew and Skit could very well be in there. But I was hungry and so, fuck those two.
Sheena was standing outside of the break room with her arms folded over her chest, staring wide-eyed at a short blonde girl with big hips.
"Fuck you, Kelly, did I say that I was gonna sleep with him?" Sheena asked loudly and the girl she had called Kelly was practically vibrating with some emotion.
"See, see?" Kelly ranted. "Just the fact that you're even talking about sleeping with him is proof enough that there is a chance that something could happen between you and Frederick. I mean, didn't you say like six months ago that we're part of nano relationship? What did that mean, huh?"
I tried to brush pass them, rolling my eyes. Women.
"I'm a lesbian, Kelly, hello," Sheena declared, flinging her arms out just as I came flush with her, slapping me on the head.
"Ouch," I said in an exaggerated way and she drew back her hand quickly.
"I'm sorry, Eric," she exclaimed, those brown eyes bright with emotion and Kelly's blue eyes fixed on me, too.
"Who are you?" Kelly asked as I clutched my head.
"He's Eric," Sheena said. "The MP hired him for the summer."
Kelly eyed me up and down.
"Where do you go to school?" she asked.
"West Central," I said.
"West Central?" she asked, her noise wrinkling slightly. "Where's that?"
"West Central High School," Sheena said and Kelly's eyes bulged.
"You're in fucking high school?" she exclaimed. "You look about twenty years old."
"I just turned seventeen," I said and smiled. "Where's the pizza?"
"Drew's fucking guarding it," Kelly said and I looked into the break room to see a bunch of kids I didn't know sitting around and Drew was standing over the pizza boxes. Skit was sitting near the end of the table, a black sketchpad underneath his plate of pizza. When had I ever backed down from a challenge?
I walked into the room, drawing all eyes, which was pretty much always the way it went. It's not like I'm super good-looking or conceited or anything, but I'm 6'3" and I tower over everyone. When I walk into a room, people know that I'm there, you know?
I walked over to where Drew was standing and picked up a paper plate.
"You serving or just standing there?" I asked and Drew stared at me for a second, then looked away.
"Whatever you want, man," he said and I piled slices high onto my plate and then turned in search of a seat. There were four empty ones and one of them was right next to Skit so I was pretty sure that was where Drew was sitting. There was one seat away from everyone else, so I sat there.
I started munching on the pizza, my eyes traveling over the group and landing where I knew they were heading. On Skit. If for no other reason than to see what color hair he had for the day. Platinum pink. It blended well with the flecks of his natural blond hair and went pretty well with the black getup he'd chosen for the day. His pants were black but he was sitting so I couldn't get a good look at them. The black looked like it could very well be a plain old, everyday turtleneck sweater, but why he'd be wearing that in 80 degree weather, I wasn't even trying to figure out.
He caught me staring not even a few seconds later when his eyes caught mine, but he quickly looked away. Sticking to my orders, I guess. One of the kids at the table turned around and looked at me.
"Come sit over here with us, man," he said in a marked Cuban accent. Since they were being friendly, I picked up my plate and walked over to the table and sat down in an available seat kiddy corner from Skit. I sat down in the middle of the guys and continued to stuff my face with pizza.
"What's your name?" a guy with an obvious lisp and what looked to me like false eyelashes asked. I stared at him.
"Eric," I said from around the food in my mouth.
"I'm Kyle," he responded and then everybody started saying their names.
"Rafe."
"Mario."
"Scottie."
"Tina."
"Reno."
Skit did a little wave. "We know each other," he said and turned his head. When he did, his sweater pulled away from his neck a little bit and I saw it. Red marks. The telltale signs of neck-sucking, a hickey. It was a fierce one, too. Drew had sucked the shit out of his neck and I was suddenly and irrevocably pissed off.
What the fuck? Hadn't he just said a day or so ago that they were just fucking friends? His word meant nothing, zilch. Fuck! Why was I so pissed off?
My appetite turned to shit and I was staring at Skit's neck blatantly. When he turned back and shot a quick look at me from under his eyelids, he caught me and flushed bright red, pulling his turtleneck up a little bit. I folded my hands in front of me, ignoring my food and all the kids I didn't really know. I stared at him, my imagination running wild with thoughts of what he and Drew had done and when.
Skit looked at me again and when he saw that I was still staring, he slid his chair back and stood up, grabbing his plate and heading for the trash. He walked out of the break room and Drew followed like two seconds later. I felt like garbage. I sat there, barely acknowledging anyone when my eyes fell on the spot where Skit had been sitting and I saw it, the black sketchpad.
I got up and reached across the table for it.
"Skit, left his sketchpad," I said quickly. "I better take it to him."
I walked out of the break room door pass Kelly and Sheena and down the hall. I would find Skit later, I promised myself as I ducked into Misti's work room, a nice, safe spot since she wasn't around and I flipped it open.
I just wanted to get a look at what more of his artwork looked like. But two pages into it, I was staring back at my own reflection. My heart started pounding in my chest as I stared at the pencil sketches of my image. Each one had a title written in long, sloping letters at the bottom. In love with a jock, Mask, Underneath the Mask, A secret smile, Just Eric...the one that hit me the most was a closeup of my face, marked in angry lines, fear in my eyes, the words at the bottom read Attacker. I held it, staring down at it with shaky hands. It must have been from the time in the gym. I flipped the page, and there I was, my profile in confrontation mode and underneath was written, My Hero. Judging by the top of my t-shirt, this one was from the time in the office when he'd been painting Drew.
"E-eric, have you seen my -," his soft voice asked from the doorway and I turned around to stare at him. His eyes took in the expression on my face and the open sketchpad in my hand and he closed them quickly.
"Are you mad?" he asked and I could feel his dread. ********************************************************************* I had to either stop here and post or wait another day, so I stopped here. Waiting another day could have meant that I second-guessed myself, scrapped everything and started over, which I frequently do and which probably makes the time between postings so very long and drawn out.
Let me know what you think! Look for Mannie next!
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I am Virtual Insanity and my Nifty Stories are: Wade & Chistian - High School 2004 The Prick - High School 2004 Mannie the Marine - Military 2004 Summer of Change - High School 2004