This story is about male/male relationships and contains graphic descriptions of sex. You should not read this story if it is in any way illegal due to your age or residence.
This is a work of pure fiction. This story is the sole property of its author and may not be copied in whole or in part or posted on any website without the permission of the author.
Questions and commentary can be sent to djakeeba@aol.com
TRAGEDY IN THE BLOOD by Steven H. Davis
It was Saturday afternoon, and I was practicing my Humorous Interpretation piece for the next week's Chamberlain tournament in my bedroom, trying to keep my mind off of the previous night's party and how much I missed Taine. As I finished my fifth run-through of the cutting from Christopher Durang's "Titanic," I felt as if I finally remembered all the lines, had the three characters down, and had smoothed the transition between those characters to an acceptable level.
"Rick!" Rex barked from the kitchen. "Telephone!"
All the Drama kids got a sheet with everyone else's phone numbers and addresses on it, in case we needed a ride to rehearsal or to a local tournament, so I shouldn't have been as surprised as I was when I rushed to the wall-phone in the living room and heard Jeff Salzburg's voice.
"Is this Rick?" the voice sang with mock childish innocence.
I laughed and plopped down into the La-Z Boy as Rex grabbed a beer and went out the kitchen door into the garage.
"Jeff? Is that you?"
"Come over to my house, fucker! I have an idea!"
"Uhm, okay," I said. "Where do you live?" Jeff's address was on the sheet with the phone numbers, but I was still relatively new to the area and didn't know all the side street names.
"Two blocks behind the school. Hurry up. I've got a surprise for you."
I hung up the phone and checked with Tynah to see if it was all right, then hopped on my bicycle and pedaled off down the street. As I passed the driveway, I saw Rex standing in front of the house with his beer can, directing Foxy to "bite Hector's balls off!"
Hector Rodriguez was our 350-lb. Hispanic neighbor, who was on permanent disability from the government. It was supposedly due to a bad back, although his back never seemed to stop him from boating at Marble Falls or working on any of the five dilapidated cars and trucks in his driveway and the street in front of his house. He had a horrible fat wife, Maria, and four kids. The oldest of his litter was Jimmy, who had shown me around Polk on the first day of school, but had kept his distance since, presumably because of the simmering Cold War between his dad and Rex.
Hector made a dismissive gesture to Rex and went into his house, as Rex drunkenly called him a cocksucker and watched Foxy romp through the front yard, chasing butterflies and barking happily.
I pedaled further down the street, suddenly escorted by a barking Meatball. Not a real meatball, but a tiny, bedraggled Scotch terrier who looked as if he'd been through a meat-grinder. Nobody knew if Meatball had a home, but anyone who jogged or bicycled down my suburban street found themselves accompanied by the scruffy, scarred little dog. He had more than earned his name, as the little fella was a complete disaster, having been run over by passing cars at least three times that anyone knew about. Meatball yipped and barked, following me as far as his stubby, gimpy little legs would allow, and then trotted off in the other direction, apparently satisfied with his work.
I sped around the corner and pedaled along up Walzem Road toward the school, wondering why Jeff had even called me. He was almost seventeen, and I was only a freshman. Also, he had something of a reputation as the school libertine, carrying on with people of both sexes, including a few college students and at least one guy in his thirties. That being said, although he certainly seemed to be into Mark Urrutia the night before, and had made out with Kathy Witcher after I had been locked out of the car, he was the only one in that VW bug to have not done a single thing with me. I assured myself that whatever Jeff had in store was purely platonic, probably something to do with Drama.
An hour later, Jeff and I were in his bedroom, improvising insanely dirty comedy sketches into a small cassette tape recorder. Far from the distant and unapproachable enigma that Jeff seemed to be in school, he delighted me by being as absolutely silly and ridiculous in his sense of humor as I was. We were able to riff off each other like a professional comedy team which had been together for years, and our wild young imaginations created crazy characters and outlandish situations effortlessly and repeatedly.
As our improvised "show" reached its conclusion, Jeff grinned at me mischievously and shut off the tape recorder. I was sitting on the edge of his large, comfortable bed, and he sat in a sleek aluminum chair at his modern, pricey desk. Jeff wore cuffed blue jeans, stylish alligator shoes, and a simple black t-shirt, which showed off his bulging biceps and well- developed, muscular torso. The shirt also matched his close-cropped, jet-black hair and set off his piercing steel-grey-blue eyes. He was quite handsome in a cold, fashion-model way, with a chiseled jaw, aquiline nose, high cheekbones and somewhat cruel, thin lips.
"That was great," I told him. "We really played off each other well."
"I've got something to show you," he said.
I looked around the walls of his room, which were covered with art prints by Patrick Nagel and movie posters -- "Rocky Horror," "Pink Flamingos" -- as well as sexy and alluring covers of record albums by artists which were unfamiliar to me. What was Kraftwerk, I wondered, and who was Patrick Cowley? Jeff seemed unbelievably cool to me, and I wondered if he would be my passport into a strange but tempting new world.
Jeff stood up from his chair and went to the door of his closet, which was covered by a poster for a film called "Jubilee," which I had never seen. He pulled open the door, grinning back over his shoulder at me, and bent slightly at the waist. I stealthily scoped out his ass, which was full, round and firm in his jeans, but my eyes were drawn more toward his muscular back and shoulders, rippling under the thin black t-shirt.
Jeff emerged from the closet with a small metal cart, on which was mounted what looked like a hospital oxygen tank, about two feet high with a release valve and some kind of monitor gauge on top. He had a naughty grin on his face.
"What's that?" I asked.
"Ether!" Jeff giggled. "I got it from Harold. He's a dentist!"
Harold was Jeff's infamous older boyfriend, whom I had never seen. The mention of him reminded me of why I had wanted to become friends with Jeff in the first place. I wanted to ask him some questions. After all, I was in love with a guy -- Taine Maxwell -- and I knew what that made me, and I knew that Jeff might be the only person I knew who could shed some light on what it all meant.
"Jeff," I ventured. "Can I ask you a question?"
"You just did," he said with a slow smile. "Hush. Just trust me. You're going to like this."
Jeff removed a large balloon from a drawer in his desk. The sides of it were ridged, and it was thicker than most I had seen. It looked more like a hot-water pouch than a balloon, but Jeff tested it and blew it up fairly easily, then let the air back out. He gave me a sidelong look and went to the tank, turning the valve until the balloon filled with gas.
I don't remember exactly how it happened, or much of what actually did happen, and an hour later, I wasn't sure exactly how I felt about it. I do know that after I took a hit of the gas in that balloon, I felt things in my mind and body which I had never felt before.
I remember that I laughed a lot, giggling hysterically from the effects of the gas, Jeff just observing me and smiling a strange little grin. We listened to a few select bits from the cassette we had made, nodding and laughing with the growing conviction that we had actually made a fantastically funny tape. I also remember checking out Jeff's muscular torso and the obvious bulge in his jeans as he sat back in the desk chair, legs wide apart.
I sobered up for a moment and said, "Jeff, what's it like to have sex with another guy?"
Jeff smiled. "You never have before? You mean... with your dirty little mind, you're a virgin?"
I nodded, sighing heavily before another wave of druggy laughter swept through me and I fell back on Jeff's bed, helpless to fight off the giggles. Jeff stood up from the chair and put on a record, the "Rocky Horror Picture Show" soundtrack album. Then he walked over to the tank, refilled the balloon and brought it over to the bed.
"Have some more," he said softly, holding the balloon to my lips.
I inhaled the gas, and started to feel myself drifting, all my skin and nerves feeling both relaxed and heightened simultaneously. I raised my head groggily, noticing a piece of black cloth in Jeff's hand.
"What's that?" I managed, as waves of sensation spread through my body, all the way to my fingers and the tips of my toes. I didn't feel like laughing anymore, instead riding a crest of drowsy pleasure although I was wide awake.
Jeff indicated the "Rocky Horror" record playing on the stereo.
"This is how we initiate virgins," he murmured, and kneeled on the bed on top of me, slipping the blindfold gently over my eyes, lifting my head with one hand and making sure the strap was secure at the back.
As Jeff lowered my head back down to the bed, I gave a slight moan. I could feel him straddling my chest, and instinctively began caressing his muscular thighs through his jeans. I thought I knew what was about to happen, and although I was powerless to prevent it, I wasn't sure whether I wanted it to stop or not. I tried to relax and listen to the music.
Jeff lightly grasped my wrists, removing them from his thighs and lifting them back over my head. I heard a sound of clicking metal, and realized that I was being handcuffed. Somewhere, deep in my drugged mind, I felt as if I should protest this development, but the thought came and went fairly quickly. I felt Jeff getting up from the bed, and although I was a little uneasy, I felt some disappointment. I wanted him back.
I heard some other sounds, which barely registered as my mind swam in the blindfolded darkness. They might have been the sounds of a belt buckle being undone, and a zipper, and jeans being removed. I recognized the hiss of the gas tank as the balloon was being refilled, and then Jeff was next to me on the bed, gently stroking my chest as the end of the balloon went between my lips.
"Relax," Jeff whispered raspily in my ear as my lungs filled again with the sweet, druggy gas. "Lift up."
I did as instructed, and he supported my back with one muscular arm as he tugged my black Izod over my head with expert speed, not disturbing the blindfold as he pulled the shirt across my upraised arms, all the way to where they were joined at the wrists by the steel handcuffs.
I felt a twinge of embarrassment as the shirt was bunched against my cuffed wrists, knowing that Jeff could now see my smooth, hairless armpits and flat, boyish chest and belly.
Jeff's warm, large hand began moving across my chest, an index finger tracing my small, hardening nipples. The finger slowly moved down my chest, sending druggy electric sparks firing across every nerve in my young body. That was when I felt the mattress shift beneath me as Jeff moved.
I wasn't actually sure if he was moving or whether I was just imagining things from the effects of the ether, but then I felt his naked thighs straddling my chest and felt the mattress move next to me as he supported his muscular weight on one arm. I felt Jeff's fingers part my quivering lips and insert the end of the balloon. I smiled groggily at the squeaky noise as he released more of the intoxicating gas, which I dutifully inhaled.
The balloon was removed, and I trembled a bit. The room was a little cold from the air-conditioning being cranked on high, and Jeff's warm body lifted away from my chest, giving me a slight chill. I felt my lips being parted again, by something warm and spongy and thick, but it was not Jeff's finger. I knew that I was about to give my first blowjob, after having just received my own the previous night.
Tentatively, I opened my mouth a little and slowly inhaled, my arousal, curiosity and anticipation overcoming the shivery coldness of my slender torso and my nervousness about what was happening. As Jeff's manly, somewhat musky but exciting scent filled my nostrils, I tensed my wrists against the cuffs and extended my tongue to taste him. He tasted good, smooth, with just a hint of saltiness. I licked the thick, warm head of his boyhood, slicking it to allow Jeff to slowly push more of himself into my virgin mouth. It filled my intoxicated, attenuated senses with contradictions. It was hard, yet silky smooth, rigid but rubbery, insistent yet friendly.
He began to thrust then, gently, and I allowed him to as I struggled to contain his thick, pulsing cock. Allowed him to! It wasn't as if -- drugged, handcuffed, blindfolded and held down by his strong thighs -- I had any choice in the matter, but it also wasn't as if I would have had much objection anyway. I had, after all, asked the question: "What's it like to have sex with another guy?" I was about to find out.
Suddenly, Jeff removed his throbbing cock from my lips and dismounted. Confused and somewhat disappointed, I licked my lips and let myself float on pure sensation, hearing the sensual music and feeling the gooseflesh breaking out on my thin chest, which was cold once again without Jeff's warmth on top of me.
Then I felt hands on my stomach, undoing my belt-buckle -- which, predictably, was a tacky metal KISS logo -- and opening the button of my tight Calvin Klein jeans. I felt my zipper going down, but in my intoxicated state, didn't think to raise my butt to allow for removal. Jeff didn't seem to care, peeling my jeans off in what seemed to be a single, deft motion and taking my tighty-whities with them.
I heard my jeans tossed to the floor of Jeff's room. There was a pause, and then I heard the gasping sounds which I recognized as a plastic bottle of hand-lotion. I had been an enthusiastic consumer of hand lotion for my solo sexual explorations since the age of about ten, so to say the sound was familiar would be an understatement.
That was when I realized I was completely naked, and felt my long, slim legs being spread gently apart by the backs of Jeff's muscular arms. One of his large, warm hands began stroking my cock, which was strangely soft from the frigid room, the gas, and my confused apprehension.
I heard the gasping of the bottle again, and there was a cold, wet sensation between my cheeks, as Jeff's lotion-slicked fingers began probing my tight virgin boyhole.
The coldness soon turned warm as Jeff began gently rubbing his fingertips across my pink, hairless pucker.
It felt good, strangely erotic, and was entirely new to me, as I had never explored back there despite my extensive masturbatory history. Bolts of pleasure shot through my body and my cock began to lengthen and pulse as Jeff's skilled fingers worked both it and my sensitive young opening. The fingers slowly withdrew, after probing and relaxing my tight anal muscle. I felt Jeff's lotion-moist hands under my thighs, and a warm pressure between my spread cheeks.
At that moment, I felt completely sober all at once, and began to panic. This was going to hurt, and I didn't want it anymore! All I wanted was Taine!
It shouldn't be like this, I thought crazily. Blindfolded and bound, drugged out of my mind on some jaded upperclassman's bed! It should be him! It should be Taine!
But I couldn't move. I could barely breathe.
Jeff thrust himself forcefully inside me, and as I threw my head back with a scream and strained against the handcuffs, I suddenly felt the greatest physical pain I had experienced in my entire life.
Chapter 13
"Shhh....shhh," Jeff said, as I grimaced in pain and felt hot tears in my eyes, soaking into the black cloth blindfold.
"It... it really hurts," I managed, gritting my teeth against the searing pain in my bottom.
"Okay, okay," Jeff soothed.
He completely stopped moving, allowing my body to adjust to the presence of his thick, pulsing cock, the voluminous mushroom-shaped head of which was stretching and tearing my tight, no-longer-virgin hole. I heard a sound like glass snapping, and smelled a pungent odor under my nostrils.
"Breathe in through your nose," he said.
"What is it?" I whimpered. Whatever it was smelled like the stale lockerroom at Polk.
"Poppers," Jeff replied. "They'll make you relax."
I did as instructed, and started feeling other new sensations. My heart started beating faster, and I heard blood rushing in my ears. But my opening no longer hurt, and felt like it was loosening a bit, although it did seem to pulse tightly around Jeff's rigid, invading cock.
I had broken out in a sweat from the pain of his initial thrust, and though it had briefly started to cool in the frigid, air-conditioned room, the poppers made me feel flushed and hot again. More to the point, the rushing blood had now fully engorged my young staff again, and all my fears and doubts began to be swept away in a rising wave of arousal.
I exhaled deeply and whispered, "You can keep going now."
He did, grasping me firmly by my slender waist and sliding the large head of his turgid cock slowly past both my smooth, hairless outer ring and then the tighter, still semi-resistant inner ring about an inch further inside me. As the head slid fully inside me, I felt relief. It was the thickest part, and his slimmer shaft followed it easily and without any discomfort.
"Are you okay?" he asked softly, his hand stroking my hardened shaft. "You want more poppers?"
"No," I moaned softly, still getting used to having him inside me. My arms relaxed, and my wrists stopped straining against the steel cuffs. I grasped my bunched-up Izod tightly with both hands and said, "I'm okay."
He pulled back very slightly, then thrust slowly forward with his hips as my long, slim legs instinctively wrapped themselves around his slender, tightly-muscled waist.
I gasped as he drove into me, clutching the shirt for dear life as I felt the heat and fullness of him sliding further into the place where no one had gone before.
That was when he hit it.
I'm pretty sure we hadn't covered the prostate in Biology class yet, and if we had, I'm almost certain -- living in conservative Texas as we did -- that no one had discussed its role in sexual pleasure, but oh, boy, what I had been missing!
My eyes shot wide open behind the blindfold and a surprised yelp escaped my lips as the head of his cock made contact and slid across what I would later learn was known as "the male G-spot."
"Oh shit!" I gasped. "What's that?"
Jeff snickered and replied, "That is why people do this."
With no further explanation, he grabbed the undersides of my knees, lifting them in the air, and pulled me down to the edge of the bed. I heard his feet hit the floor as he stepped off into a standing position. With my slim butt slightly raised off the edge of the bed, Jeff began rhythmically thrusting into me, holding my legs for balance and hitting my newly- discovered interior sweet spot with every stroke. I couldn't believe what I was feeling. Fullness, a sublime pressure, and an almost indescribable whole-body pleasure from each of his slow, methodic thrusts.
I imagined what Jeff must look like, standing there and fucking me, and wished that my blindfold and cuffs were removed so that I could see and run my hands over his taut, lean abdomen and muscular young chest. But things were as they were, so I merely closed my eyes and concentrated on the pure, amazing feeling emanating from his pulsing cock as it pummeled my now-eager boyhole and the hard, nutlike gland within, spreading pure ecstasy throughout my writhing young body.
Jeff began moving faster and with more urgency, gripping my knees tighter and thrusting forward with intensity and purpose. I felt the familiar, wonderful feeling begin to build inside my balls, which were pulled up tight to my body in preparation for blastoff. Again I marveled at what was happening... neither Jeff nor I were anywhere near my cock, which nevertheless tensed and rose from my belly in excitement.
"Ohhhhhhhhh shiiiiittttttttt," Jeff groaned, bucking and pumping against me, slamming my throbbing prostate as I felt his molten cum shooting deep inside me.
That sent me over the edge and I squeezed my legs tight around his waist, clutching my shirt tightly in my fists as my untouched cock shot spurt after spurt of hot, creamy boyjuice across my belly and chest. This was the most intense orgasm of my entire life, and I felt it all over my body. I was just one giant cock, screaming and cumming like a maniac, my hips bucking and thrusting back against Jeff's as his orgasm began to subside and mine just get kept going.
Jeff withdrew slowly and lowered my feet to the floor as I shuddered and twitched from my first deep-dicking. I heard a soft tinkling of metal and then Jeff stretched himself across my body, undoing the handcuffs with one of a pair of tiny brass keys held together by a thin wire. I rubbed at my wrists and removed my blindfold, still overwhelmed and taking in the sight of his magnificent, muscled young body as I basked in contented afterglow.
His body was as perfect as I had imagined behind the blindfold, but I noticed that he was hairier than I thought, with a soft patch of fuzz in the middle of his chest, some stray black hairs around his pale nipples, and a thick, coarse treasure trail leading from his small, flat navel to a large, curly bush around his softening cock. God, it was thick. Even at half-staff, it looked enormous, and I couldn't believe that it had all fit inside me.
Jeff grabbed a pack of cigarettes from his desk and flopped down on the bed nude, handing me a washcloth from under one of his pillows.
"Wipe that before you get up here on the blanket," he said gruffly, nodding toward my quivering ass. I did so, wiping between my cheeks and around my still-hard boyhood, looking down at the unprecedented amount of cream I had shot all over my upper torso. Turning the washcloth over to a dry side, I wiped my spent passion from my skin and scooched up the bed to be level with Jeff.
Lighting a cigarette, Jeff plucked the washcloth from my hand and tossed it into a laundry hamper between the side of his bed and the wall. He offered me a cigarette and his embossed Bic lighter, which I took with trembling fingers. It took me a couple of tries to light up, as I was still shaking so much from my first no-hands, full-body orgasm.
Jeff grinned slightly, noticing my difficulties, and asked, "How did you like it?"
I lay back on a pillow, making sure to note the location of the small glass ashtray between us, and inhaled smoke deeply, then blew it out in a long, thick column which rose to the ceiling.
"It was fucking amazing," I said. "Is it always like that?"
"Well," Jeff replied, "the ether was gone by the time I started, and the poppers only last about half a minute, so the rest of it was all me and you."
I shook my head back and forth in disbelief. "I came without even touching it."
Jeff smiled at my naivete. "That happens a lot when you get your prostate pounded. Everything's connected..." he paused and added, "Little One."
I smiled wistfully, crushed out my cigarette and turned to watch as Jeff finished his own.
"You're incredible," I said quietly.
I propped myself up on one elbow and attempted to move in to kiss him, but he abruptly turned his head away and sat up, crushing out his cigarette and then jumping up from the bed.
"Let's take a shower!" he exclaimed, somewhat too loudly. "I have to go meet Harold in 20 minutes."
I shrugged, disappointed by his instant change of mood, and followed him into the bathroom. We showered quickly, Jeff turning his back to me and washing hurriedly, paying me no mind despite the fact that we were both naked, wet, and soapy less than a foot from each other. I decided to do the same, and I felt a bit of a sting, not just as I soaped my newly-popped boy-cherry, but in my heart as I couldn't understand Jeff's suddenly brusque and dismissive manner.
By the time we had finished our shower and toweled off, I was feeling incredibly empty and sad. I had been blindfolded, drugged, handcuffed, had a dick crammed in my mouth, and then been painfully buttfucked. Yes, I had come to enjoy it there at the end -- enjoy it a hell of a lot, in fact -- but losing your virginity was supposed to be special, meaningful. Emotionally meaningful, not just physically. It was something I wanted to carry with me forever in my heart, a fond memory of my passage into manhood. It should have been with someone I loved. The one I loved. This was... well, it wasn't that.
*I've done a lot, God knows I've tried...
To find the truth, I've even lied...*
The record was still playing as we went back into Jeff's room and he hurriedly pulled his jeans from the floor, put them on and went to his closet to select a shirt for his date. His date!
*But all I know-ow-ow...
Is down inside, I'm blee-ee-ding...*
"Well," Jeff said, buttoning a silk dress shirt and looking down at the floor, "you should probably go. I have to do a few things before I leave."
*And superheroes come to fea-east...
To taste the flesh, not yet deceased...*
I turned away, tugging up my jeans, putting on my shirt and slipping back into my Sperry TopSiders. My emotions were a mass of confusion, and I didn't want Jeff to see the tears in my eyes lest one of them betrayed me and rolled down my hot, flushed cheeks. I just wanted to get out of there at that point, which is, of course, just what Jeff wanted me to do.
*And all I know-ow-ow...
Is still the beast is fee-ee-ding...*
Jeff came up behind me, wrapped his arms around me and gave me a perfunctory squeeze.
"That was fun," he said. " I really like the tape we made. That punk rock character is a keeper. We should do that again. See ya at school on Monday."
I nodded, not trusting my voice not to break, and headed downstairs to the front door, which I fumbled open, pulled quickly closed behind me, and ran to my bicycle in the driveway.
I pedaled home quickly down Walzem Road, and even though my bike was a 20-speed, I stood up on the pedals like I was driving a dirtbike. The reason was that, not to put too fine a point on it, my asshole was on fire. Between the pain in my butt, the pain in my heart, and the tears in my eyes, I was lucky to get home without wiping out on the long, steep hill leading down toward my street.
I pulled my bike alongside the garage as soon as I got to my house, leaning it against the shiny white siding and sneaking in the garage's side door. I knew that whatever was in my underpants wouldn't be pretty, and I wanted to hide them in the machine with the other dirty laundry so that it would just be done along with everything else and without individual inspection. I quickly shucked my jeans and pulled off my tighty-whities. Sure enough, the back of my briefs was pink with faint traces of fresh blood.
Damn, I thought. He really tore me up. I wadded the briefs into a ball, with the bloodstains hidden in the middle, and pushed them way down into the washing machine, pulling other clothes on top of them. When I thought they were well- hidden, I pulled my jeans back up and ran inside to the bathroom. I needed another shower.
As I sat on the floor of the bathtub, letting the warm water pour over my head, I thought about the last few days and cried, despite the almost comical progression of my life over that time.
On Tuesday, I had kissed Taine, and he had run from the house. On Wednesday, Taine had kissed me, and then made me leave his house. On Friday, Mark Urrutia had kissed me, Kathy Witcher had given me my first blowjob, and then they locked me out of the car. And today, I had given my first blowjob, Jeff had fucked me, and then he made me leave his house.
All I could do was shake my head, feeling used and abused, cast off and rejected as the song from Jeff's room came back to my mind.
*And crawling...
On the planet's face...
Some insects called the human race...
Lost in time... and lost in space...
And meaning.*
Thank you for reading Chapters 12 & 13. To be continued...
"Super Heroes" by Richard O'Brien. Performed by Barry Bostwick, Susan Sarandon and Charles Grey. c 1975 by Twentieth Century Fox Film Corporation.
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