Date: Fri, 6 Jun 2003 16:52:41 -0700 (PDT) From: Mark Arbour Subject: On the Mark 1 PREFACE: I am writing this story primarily as a self-exploration tool. I invite you to come along for the ride, which is sometimes rocky, often boring, and not always happy. Unfortunately, it's not always very erotic either. That being said, and if M/M and M/F sex doesn't upset you, read on. Since this is my story, please don't reproduce or publish it anywhere without asking me first: markarbour2000@yahoo.com. DEDICATION: This story, good, bad, or otherwise, is dedicated to John Walsh of "Fraternity Memoirs" fame, whose ability and willingness to bare his soul in his story inspired me to try to do the same. My story starts right after my 14th birthday, which, like all my birthdays, is in May. This story starts in the mid-1970s...before herpes and AIDS, where the biggest danger was the clothes. Kids at school wore jeans or cords for the most part, with big elephant bell bottoms. Some of the students, mostly the Hispanic or Black kids, would wear those polyester "Angel Flight" pants...so very disco. Wild color shirts or t-shirts were OK, and some people even wore those western-type shirts with the "yoke" in the front. Hair was long, and "feathered" back, and guys all caried a big black comb (with the handle sticking out) in their back pocket. And one more thing....the pants were all TIGHT. I had to be the biggest dork on the planet. For starters, I was a late bloomer. All the other guys I knew were well on their way through puberty by 14, but not me. I was just beginning. So even though I was tall, my muscles were still undeveloped, I still had my baby fat, and I only had a little body hair. Since I have dark brown hair, my lack of hair was even more obvious. All the guys talked about masterbating like it was something they did all the time, yet I had only had three prior jack off experiences where I actually came, and the first was pretty much an accident. Those 3 incidents had been spaced out over the previous month or so. I was naturally clumsy, so I hated sports. Even more than sports, I hated PE and the locker room scene. I never took a shower with the other guys, or even undressed in front of them, because I was so embarrassed that I had the body of a 6th grader. And to make matters even worse (are you getting the feeling this wasn't a happy time in my life?) I was intensely curious about the other guys around me. I knew that I wasn't supposed to be attracted to other guys, and I was still exploring what "attraction" met in a physical way, but I found I could not stop myself from looking around the locker room. That's what got me into trouble. Aaron Bryce had the locker right next to mine. Aaron was everything that I was not. He was a good athlete and had a thin honed body. He was about 5'7" tall, had brown hair, and a cute dimpled ass. His dick was about 3 inches long, soft, and it was surrounded by a big tuft of brown pubes. I'd look, then try not to look, then look...you get the picture. One other thing about Aaron: he was a complete asshole. I was staring, he saw me...I was busted. "Arbour, you faggot, quit staring at my dick!", he said, loud enough to attract the attention of the other guys around us. "Fuck you Bryce, I'm not looking at you", I said trying to sound convincing, even though I could feel my face turning red. "Yeah you were...you were staring right at my dick, you fucking homo." He was in my face, and there were at least 4 other guys staring at us, smirking. He pushed me back, and I stumbled...I realized that there were only two ways out of this...run like hell or make a lot of noise. I started yelling: "Leave me the fuck alone Bryce! And quit wiggling your dick in front of everyone's face!" That got the desired result...the coach came cruising into the locker room to see what was going on, and everyone backed off and acted normal. Fortunately, I was pretty much dressed by then, so I just stood upto leave, when he grabbed me and pushed me into the lockers. "After school I'm gonna kick your ass," he said, with a low, menacing voice...like he meant it. Oh terrific. Just what I need...a fight. And I knew that he probably could kick my ass. Nothing like a little fear to spice up a day. Plus it was hard to argue since I was staring at him. Was I really a fag? I kept telling myself that I was just intrigued by his body, and all the changes it had gone through. You know, like a scientific experiment. That's right, I was just observing from a purely research-oriented curiosity. Rationalization is a wonderful thing. My last class was typing with Ms. Garcia, who was a totally hot teacher. She was one of those women with a perfect body and the smile to go with it. There wasn't a guy in her class that wouldn't do absolutely anything for her. I think that was the only class where I never missed a homework assignment, or got less than an A on a test. In addition to staring at Ms. Garcia's tits, I was also wondering if Aaron was really going to try to fight me after school. Should I try to avoid him, and go out the back way, or should I just stand him down and risk getting my ass kicked? As I was looking around the room, I unexpectedly made eye contact with Darryl Sharpe, who was three rows over (there wasn't anyone sitting in betweeen us). Aaron could threaten to kick my ass, and I could view that rather calmly, but Darryl Sharpe scared the shit out of me and everyone else in school. He was one tough guy. Our school was built at the bottom of the hill. I think it is a universal truth that people who live in California spend whatever they can afford to be as close to the top of the hill or as close to water as possible. It is also important to point out that a "hill" as in this case, is pretty big, as opposed to the type of "hill" you'd find in the midwest. We called the Sierra Nevadas mountains...everything else was a hill. In this case, the higher up the hill you lived, the more money your parents probably had. We lived about half way up in our little upper-middle class world. Darryl lived near the school, in the blue collar neighborhood. He was about average height, with dirty blonde hair that was usually just a little unkempt. He always wore jeans and a black t-shirt, and when it was cold he had a leather jacket. This guy was not a star athlete, but he was ripped. I think he was into martial arts or something. When I looked at his face, the most outstanding feature was his left dimple which only showed up when he gave his lopsided smile. I couldn't tell if he was smiling at me in a friendly way, or just mocking me. Shit, maybe he wanted to kick my ass too. Suddenly I felt like the fox in a fox hunt. Oh well, back to Ms. Garcia's tits. I had about 5 more minutes to stare at them before school was out. She was supposedly married to some soon-to-be pro football player. Figures. I decided that the thing to do was to just walk home. Sometimes I took the bus, but I really hated school buses, and it was a nice day. Besides, most of my friends took the "late bus" for activities and stuff, so I'd be pretty much alone and a sitting duck if Aaron and his friends decided to torment me. Being a pussy requires a lot of strategic planning. The bell rang and I moved as quickly as I could while still looking calm. I just walked straight out the door and headed through the school, winding my way through the corridors to find my exit. On the way out, I ran into my friend Mari (short for Marianne). She'd lived next door for pretty much my whole life, and we were really good friends. She just had to tell me all about her day. So much for getting out of school quickly. Anyway, I was walking off campus as the buses were leaving, As my bus drove by Aaron leaned out the window and yelled "Hey fag!". I flipped him off. At least he was on the bus, so I wouldn't have to deal with him. My route home took me first through the "blue collar neighborhood", and then I usually stopped at the gas station to get something to drink before I made the climb up the hill. I was just about 3 blocks from the gas station when I turned a corner and there was Aaron, with two of his friends. Fuck. The friend on his right was Nick Barcheletta, but people just called him Bark. He was a good looking Italian Guy, but not too bright, with a big mouth. The guy on the left was Julian Alpert. He was the smallest of the three, and he looked very uncomfortable, probably because we knew each other pretty well and he sure didn't want to pick a fight with me. We all called him Julie, which used to piss him off, but now he just dealt with it. Aaron came walking forward looking pretty beligerant. "I'm gonna break your middle finger off, Fag!" I just stood my ground. The only real weapon I had was my backpack, filled with books, so I grabbed it pretty tight. Then he pushed me hard, and I started to fall back. While I was staggering, I felt a rage run through my body. I'm a pretty calm guy, and I don't easily get pissed, but when I do...and I was really pissed now. "Fuck You!" I yelled, and took my back pack from behind my back and swung it around. I hit him hard right on the side of the head. He looked a little dazed, but then he charged me and knocked me down. I remember rolling around on the ground, taking a few punches but nothing too bad...and then we both froze when we heard Bark scream in pain. I looked up and saw Bark holding his stomach as he fell to the ground, while Darryl Sharpe stood in front of him in some kind of Karate like pose. Wow. He looked over at us and said "Bryce, you fuck with my friends, and I'll fuck with yours." He then kicked Bark in the chest and knocked him back on his ass. Aaron and I both got up, both of us amazed. "I didn't know he was your friend", Aaron said very sheepishly. I didn't know I was his friend either. We all just stared at each other for a minute, then Aaron helped Bark up (he was pretty messed up) and they walked off. I just stood there, speechless, watching them leave. Wow. I looked over at Darryl, and he gave me his lopsided grin (and the dimple showed). "Thanks man", was all I could think of to say. He just shrugged, and asked me if I wanted to come in and get cleaned up. I didn't realize this all happened right in front of his house. So cool, I followed him in and he showed me where the bathroom was. Not too much damage...I might get this past my parents without them noticing. I walked back into the family room and he tossed me a coke and said "Come On" and we went back to his room. It was pretty basic, with lots of posters on the walls of hot chicks and metal bands. "Thanks again for saving my ass" I told him. "That was pretty nice of you...why'd you do it?" He smiled at me and told me that he hated bullies, and that he thought Aaron was too full of himself, and that he really didn't like Bark. So then we just kind of bullshitted for a while, and he told me about his family. He had a younger brother, and both his parents worked, that's why he was home alone right now. He was in the middle of a sentence about his parents when he suddenly stopped, and said "Hey, you wanna get high?" "You mean, like, smoke pot?" "No dumbshit, go fly on a plane. Yeah....I'm gonna smoke a joint." "I've never done that before." I was pretty nervous. I mean, we're talking drugs here, narcotics. Shit, I could get arrested. Maybe he's some big time drug dealer. I wonder if I'll weird out like they say you do..like in the movie "Reefer Madness"? He pulled out the joint, lit it, and said "you don't have to if you don't want to." What the fuck. You had to take risks some time. And that first hit off the joint was the beginning of two important parts of my life: I loved pot, and Darryl could get me to do just about anything. So the next thing I know, I'm high as a kite, laughing at everything, and getting really hungry. After a while, we decided to re-light the joint. As I passed it over to Darryl, he dropped it and it landed on his shirt. "Fuck, it burned a hole in my t-shirt" he screamed and then he jumped up pretty quick. I was laughing my ass off. He looked at me and gave me a "go to hell" smile, and took off his shirt. I was transfixed by his body. I had never seen him without his shirt. His body was ripped. His muscles, especially his pecs and abs, showed through his skin, not like a Mr. Universe, but in a more gentle, subtle manner. He had small brown nipples, and light brown hair under his arms. But what really got me was his light brown treasure trail. I've always found treasure trails to be a major turn on, and his was just perfect. I realized that as soon as he took his shirt off, I had stopped laughing and started staring. I was big time busted. He looked at me kind of funny, and I felt my stomach drop. I was really enjoying Darryl, I was doing fun things with him and getting to know him. And now I'd done it again. It's amazing how quickly I can flagellate myself in my own mind. I looked straight at him, and saw his expression changing again, to be even more serious. Maybe he'd finish the ass-kicking that Aaron started. "So Mark, were you really staring at Aaron's dick, or was he just making that up?" I looked down at the floor. I was too high to lie convincingly, and besides, there was something about him that seemed to pull the truth out of me. "Kind of. He was standing right in front of me, and I guess I was curious. I'm not gay or anything." Why did I add the last part? He was standing up, shirtless, and I was sitting on the floor cross-legged. I don't think I ever felt quite so humiliated. "If you're curious and you want to see what a real dick looks like, you should have asked me", and as I looked up he started to unbutton his jeans. He pulled them down and stepped out of them. I noticed his calves and thighs, both ripped just like his chest, with just a slight dusting of blonde hair. He was wearing bikini underwear, and I could see the outline of his dick as he pulled them down and let them fall to the ground. Here I was, sitting at eye level with Darryl Sharpe's dick two feet away from me. He had a nice mound of light brown pubes, and his dick was about half-hard, and already at about 5 inches. I couldn't stop staring at it. "Go ahead, touch it" he said. "Go ahead, you've seen it, you might as well feel it. I won't tell anyone." I slowly moved my right hand up and wrapped it around his dick. It was like I was in a trance, and my hand had a mind of it's own. I felt it harden as I touched it. "Feels good" he said. I felt encouraged, so I began to run my fingers around the shaft, and up to the head. Darryl began to moan and a drop of fluid appeared at the tip of his cock. I touched it with my finger, and it felt kind of oily. My own dick was hard as a rock...I had never been this hard before. My dick was straining against my pants so hard that it almost hurt. "Taste it", he said. I looked up at him, into his eyes, and he gave me that lopsided smile. He had me and he knew it. I'd do anything he asked. I put my finger in my mouth and tasted his pre-cum. It tasted salty...that's what I remember the most. He kind of laughed. "No man, put your mouth on it." "You want me to suck your dick?" I asked, suddenly horrified at the implication. "Yeah. Come on man. You know you want to, and I really need a blow job. I won't tell anyone. Do me a favor here." That was all I needed. He was right, I did want to. But I didn't want to want to. But this guy, who just saved my ass and was showing me a good time was asking me for a favor. How could I say no? It's good to know that getting high didn't hurt my rationalization skills. "I've never done this before" "I'll tell you what to do, don't worry." I kneeled in front of him and moved to swallow his dick. I noticed that it had gotten really big, about 7" now, and I wasn't sure how that was going to fit in my mouth. I also noticed a musky kind of smell. At first it sort of repelled me, but after about the third whiff I felt my dick straining harder than ever against my jeans. I slowly engulfed his dick with my mouth....he moaned in appreciation. "That's it, just take it slow. I'll do all the work" He began to slowly moving his dick in and out of my mouth, each time going just a little bit deeper. He hit the back of my throat, and I gagged. I thought I was gonna puke for a minute. "Sorry man. I'll go slower. Just pretend like you're swallowing something". He began to moan..this must feel great. I started experimenting with different mouth formations, being real careful, since I had braces. And the more I sucked his dick, and the more he moaned, the more powerful I felt. His knees began to shake and he laid down on the floor. I was into it now, I needed no urging. I engulfed his monster and started sucking like there was no tomorrow. I felt him start to tense up, and watched his ab muscles contract. He pushed my mouth off his dick and began stroking it frantically with his hand... "I'm cumming!" Shots of white cum blew out of his cock. The first shot hit him on the chin, the second on his chest, and the rest trickled down his dick. He laid there panting, and I sat there staring at him for a few minutes. "Thanks man. You were awesome. I'll make you a deal, you suck my dick, and I'll make sure no one bothers you again". OK. What do I say to that? Does that make me a whore? Do I want to suck his dick again? OK, the answer to that question is yes. All I could do was look at him funny. "My mom should be home soon, and I gotta get cleaned up" "Yeah, I gotta get home anyway". The walk home would be good for me. In about 2 hours I had turned into a pot-smoking cocksucker. I had a lot to think about. I figured that by the time I got to the gas station my dick would be calmer, but no dice. I asked the guy behind the counter for the bathroom key (he gave me a funny look) and went into the bathroom and blew the biggest load of my life...which isn't really saying that much...but it was pretty intense. I'd never been that turned on before. I grabbed a coke and started walking up the hill when a feeling hit me, one that would plague me for years to come. That feeling was fear. Fear that I was really gay, fear that someone would find out, fear that my parents would find out, my friends...that I would be ostrasized..that I would never be able to live in mainstream society and have the American Dream. For me...it was never so much a feeling of guilt, but this fear of being caught....and even more intense (even though I didn't yet realize it) a fear that I really was gay.