Warning, this story may contain explicit descriptions of sexual acts between boys of various ages and/or men and boys. If this is not to your tastes, please leave now.
The author retains copyrights to the story.
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By Chris Carr
©1999
Keone was crushed. Watching the boy gathering his CD's, it wasn't until he'd gotten to the door before Keone jumped up. Placing his hand on the boy's shoulder he said,
"Yo, I'm sorry, B. You don't have to leave." Rashawn turned to face him and gazing into his clear brown eyes, Keone felt his dick move. Rashawn was more radiant now than when he'd seen him naked in the locker room. Such beautiful skin, and immaculately styled hair.
The boys stood, Rashawn with his back to the door and Keone just inches from his face, looking. Keone's dick moved of it's own volition, now, raising higher and higher in his boxers. Gazing at the boy's soft, crimson red lips, Keone felt a rush of feelings wash over him that was insurmountable. Moving closer, he observed that Rashawn didn't react, his eyes locked on Keone's. Instinct taking over, Keone felt himself moving closer and closer until their lips met. Like blooming roses in the spring, their lips parted, and for the first time in his life, Keone was kissing another boy.
Pressing against the boy, his dick fully erect now, Keone dashed his tongue into Rashawn's mouth, lapping at the boy's tongue. Still holding a handful of CD's, Rashawn stood motionless, his mind reeling, his own dick hardening. This can't be happening! he thought, astonished. Allowing the boy to push him against the door, he felt his dick, pressing against his groin. Keone's tongue was fervidly exploring his mouth, strong, unwanted, sensations coursing through his body. Keone started caressing the boy's body, his hands traveling down his sides, and over his chest. When he felt them tugging at his pants, feverishly trying to open them, he cried out, his words muffled by the boy's probing tongue.
His protests startled Keone, forcing him to recognize the severity of his actions. He was literally ramming his tongue down a guy's throat and trying to get into his pants! Breaking away he stuttered,
"I'm sorry, Rashawn! I don’t know what I was thinkin'…"
Watching the boy back pedal, Rashawn grabbed his hand.
"It's alright, Keone. I've been wantin' to do that, too. It's just, I didn't think you was that way."
"You been wantin' to kiss me!"
Shocked, Keone stared at the boy.
"I didn't think you was that way," he said, rushing back to embrace the boy. Kissing him again, he ripped at the boy's pants.
Grabbing his hands, Rashawn broke the kiss again.
"What?" Keone said, his hand on the boy's groin.
"Dang, man! Shit gets all fucked up some times, " Rashawn blathered, his eyes rolling upward.
What was he talking about?
"I cain't Keone, I got a lover, now."
Pulling him to the couch, Rashawn looked into his eyes, saddened.
"When I saw you at the pool that day, I wanted you so bad it hurt," he explained. "I used to look at you every day, dog, but I figured that was just a crazy dream. When you got sent to jail, I thought that was it. I'd never get a chance at you, then. When I turned 17, I went to this club with a friend and I met this guy. He's 20 and he crazy 'bout me, man. We been together for 'bout a month now. He keep tryin' to get me to move in with him, but I don't know." Keone felt like he'd been pushed out a 10th story window.
Rashawn like guys?
Rashawn got a lover!
How was this possible? Rashawn didn't seem like no fag.
"I just wish I'd known," he was saying, "We could've been PHAT together, B," he said, kissing the boy on his lips.
Holding him, Keone sought to make the kiss last. Rashawn permitted another long, passionate kiss, but eventually broke it off.
"You keep kissin' me like that, and I'm gon' get in big trouble," Rashawn said, standing.
Where he going? Keone's tormented brain screamed.
"I gotta go, B. We too dangerous fo' each other. I'll leave these CD's, check 'em out when you can. Later." Glued to the couch, Keone watched as the boy left, his bubble butt the last thing he noticed leaving out the door.
"Nigga I told you Dallas sucked!"
"Fo'get you, Eric!" Keone raved. "This game don't even count. This just a exhibition game!"
"Yeah, but Dallas still lost. Frisco gon' go all the way, man."
Quietly watching the boys rant about their teams, Jordie felt a sense of satisfaction. His football party had been a success, the crowning achievement being Keone's last minute appearance. Up until the boy had stumbled in, the game halfway over, Jordie had practically resolved himself the rift between them was irreparable. Pleased, he started cleaning up.
Trailing him into the kitchen, Michael tapped him on the shoulder.
"He seem ok, huh?"
"Yeah. Didn't think that at first though," Jordie replied.
"Yeah, he was like a deep freeze at first, kid."
"All he needed was to get around some people that is fo' real, man, 'stead of them 'busters' at Southwest."
Throwing a pile of dirty paper plates into the trash can, Michael stated,
"Yeah, but can we keep 'em here?"
"We'll have to cross that bridge when we get to it."
"You gon' let 'em work up at the pool?"
"One thing at a time, Michael."
"Yeah, I hear ya."
"But thanks a million fo' yo' help, though, dog," Jordie added.
"No problem, man. The little monsters didn't run me half as crazy as I thought."
"Well, we had something to keep them occupied. We let them keep ranting 'bout they teams, though, and it might get a little hectic, " Jordie said, tossing the leftover salsa in the fridge.
"Check, how 'bout I take Eric and Cordell home, then?"
"That sounds like a good idea. Rashawn, Russell and Keone all live close, I'll take them home."
"A'ight, then," Michael said, returning to the living room.
"Yo, Eric and Cordell, I can give y'all a ride home if you want?"
"Ok," the boy's responded, standing.
"Yo, Jordie, thanks a lot man, everything was cool," Eric said.
"Yeah, I had a good time," Cordell added.
"No problem, y'all. Just glad y'all could stop by," Jordie said, throwing them each a quick hug.
"A'ight, Jordie, we'll check y'all later," Michael said, walking the boy's to the door. Turning to the remaining boy's Jordie suggested,
"Yo, since y'all stay on the 'round each other, I guess I could jet y'all home."
"A'ight," they chimed.
Stopping at Rashawn's house, Jordie said his good-byes. Glancing at Keone, he took note of how the boy was staring at him. When Rashawn entered his house, Keone glanced up, busted, then looked away. Driving away, Jordie passed into the next block, pulling in front of Keone's house. The engine still running, he waited for the boy to exit, but Keone didn't move.
"Jordie?" he started.
"Yo?"
"Can we talk?"
"Sure," Jordie said, turning his engine off.
"But not here, man."
"Where then?"
"I don't care, just drive, a'ight?"
"A'ight," Jordie said, starting the car.
Hanging out the window, Keone strained into the darkness, his eyes searching the secluded beach. Jordie had made the suggestion that they come here, fond memories of times he'd spent there with his father his incentive. Circling to the back of the car, they removed the blankets and towels placed there after a brief stop at Jordie's apartment. The paraphernalia in hand, they made the trek from the parking lot out into the darkness of the empty beach.
"What to do with this?" Keone asked, holding up the bags of fast food they'd picked up.
"Let me get the blanket laid out," Jordie instructed, "And we can sit down and have us a li'l picnic, B."
Spreading the blanket, they sat, ripping open the bags of fried chicken meals, sticking straws into the invitingly cold drinks. They'd road around the city for the past hour, Keone insisting they keep going nowhere in particular as he talked. Jordie was so happy Keone felt like talking, he didn't even worry about the time spent wandering the city. It wasn't until they'd stopped to get the chicken that Jordie offered the idea of going to his private spot.
Munching on his fries, Keone surveyed the beach, an oddity to him. He could only remember two times visiting any beach, neither of them at night.
"How you find this beach?" he inquired.
"My Pops and me used to come up here all the time," Jordie said, taking a sip from his soda. "First time we came up here, we was hangin' out one day and he say's 'Lets go watch the sun set', just like that. We drove all the way up here, picked up some burgers at this stand down the street and sat out here on the beach, watching the sun go down. We didn't say shit, man. Just sat here, watching a big orange sun float down the sky." Smiling, Jordie looked out over the water.
"That sounds like that was cool," Keone remarked, then added, "Yo' father sound real cool, too."
"Yeah, we did everything together. Played video games, watched football, listened to music, even went to see the Dodgers play every once in a while. He the one showed me how to work with computers."
"A'ight. So, y'all still do all the stuff?"
"My Dad's dead," Jordie quipped.
"Aw shit, sorry to here that, B. My Dad's dead, too."
"Oh yeah? How'd he die?"
"Heart attack," Keone stated, unemotional.
"How old was you when he died?"
"I was 'bout nine or ten."
"Yeah? I was 'bout 15 when mine died."
"Bet you really miss 'em, huh?"
"Hell yeah, man. My Pops died, I thought I was gon' die too, B. That's why I keep comin' up to this beach. It's like I can still feel him when I'm up here."
"Word."
Placing his soda down, Jordie asked,
"What 'bout you, Keone? You miss yo' Pops?"
Keone swallowed, his answer slow coming. "Yeah… but… he wasn't cool like yo' Dad. He was mean, man. Used to beat the shit outta my Moms, and me." Dropping his head, his eating slowed.
"He drank or somethin'?" Jordie asked.
"Nigga stayed drunk. Worst was the weekends. He'd go out on Friday's and drink the whole weekend. Saturday nights, he'd come home drunk and start slapping my Moms around. I'd try to get 'em to stop, sometimes, but then he'd start beatin' the shit outta me. Funny thing is, come Monday, that son'a bitch would go to work and handled his shit like a mutha fuck. Kept us in a nice house, with a nice car and clothes and shit." Looking out at the waves, his voice low, he added, "But I still miss 'em."
"I hear you," Jordie said, gazing out at the water, too.
"Wanna go walk along the water, shorty?" he offered
"Ok."
Removing their shoes and socks, the boy's walked toward the water, the warm sand squishing between their toes.
Stepping into the cool water, Jordie petitioned,
"So how you doin', shorty?"
Taking a few steps before he answered, Keone responded, "Guess I'm doin' ok." The wet sand felt funny beneath his feet, the footprints they left in the sand amusing him. He knew what Jordie was getting at, but couldn't exactly find the words. They walked along in silence, waves of water rushing between their legs.
Stopping, Keone turned to Jordie, a possible way to air his concerns coming to mind.
"You said you had a cousin that was gay, right?" Keone started.
"Yeah, that's right."
"How you deal with that, man?"
"What you mean, deal with that?"
"I mean, don't that bother you?"
"Nope. He ain't no different than any other my relatives or friends to me," Jordie said, kicking a burst of water up with his foot. Inputting, Keone walked a little further.
"Man, I would be freaked out if I knew one of my cousins, or homies was gay," he offered.
"You need to loosen up, kid. What's so bad 'bout somebody bein' gay?"
"Man that shit is whacked! Niggas in the hood ever find out you likin' dudes, they bust yo' ass up!"
"Eddie stay in the hood," Jordie posited. "Niggas don't give a shit 'bout him, either."
Turning to face the youth, Keone exclaimed, "You kiddin?"
"I wouldn't shit you man. Eddie stay dead in the hood, B. See, what you ain't knowin', shorty, it's mo' niggas in the hood fuck around than they let on."
"Straight up, hard niggas?"
"'Sright. Eddie ain't no swish. Lot of yo' peeps probably gettin' a little freaky on the side, Keone. They just ain't actin' like you think gon' act." Mesmerized, Keone stared, his mouth gapped open.
"Jordie, you mean to tell me dudes like Russell, and Eric and Zoon them, doin' shit with each other?" Keone objected.
"No doubt."
"Man, you trippin'."
"Believe what you wanna, but I'm tryin' to tell you, some the most hardest actin' niggas 'round is just perpetrating, man." Remembering his startling experience with Rashawn, Keone offered no further protests. If what had happened with he and Rashawn was any indication, Jordie was probably telling the truth.
"You heard 'bout that shit happened to me?" he inquired, watching for the youth's reaction.
"What shit you talkin' 'bout?"
"Man, I know you know," Keone accused. "Everybody heard 'bout it. Even niggas up at Forester had heard."
"You talkin' 'bout messin' 'round with that dude?"
"Yeah," Keone ruffled, regretting his attempt at discussing this sensitive subject
"What 'bout it?"
"What'd you think when you first heard it?"
"I didn't know what to think. You cain't always believe what you hear on the streets," Jordie said, a circling seagull catching his attention. Turning back to the boy he stated, "I was gon' wait till I heard it from you before I considered it."
"But what if you was to find out it was true?" Keone pressed.
"What of it? Why you make yo'self jump through all them hoops, B?"
"Jump through all them hoops?" Keone echoed, puzzled.
"You worry 'bout what other people think too much, Keone. Why'd you hook up with dude?"
Unnerved, Keone half-heartedly kicked at the rushing water. Stalling, he played his foot in the sand, another amazing footprint appearing in its wake.
"I was real fucked up," he explained. "La Vel had tripped on me that weekend, and I was thinkin' you was all mad at me."
"I'm real sorry 'bout that, Keone," Jordie apologized. "Things was all crazy that week. I had too many things on my plate to handle all that shit and talk to you, too."
"It's a'ight," Keone shrugged. "That's the same shit was goin' on fo' me, too, though. I got so messed up in the head, next thing I know, I was callin' dude."
"How'd you get his number?"
"Found it in this magazine I had."
"Magazine?"
Frustrated, Keone replied, "This magazine I found at the park, man."
"So, it was some kind of gay magazine or somethin."
"Yeah," Keone answered sharply.
"Why you trippin?"
"'Cause, this shit ain't easy for me to talk 'bout."
"You worried I'm gon' think you weird or somethin'?"
"Don't you?"
"I keep tryin' to tell you, it ain't no big deal, shorty."
Relieved, Keone inquired, "You know what kind of magazine I'm talkin' 'bout?"
"I got a pretty good idea. It had pictures of naked men in it and shit?"
Flushed, Keone softly replied, "Yeah."
They'd walked a fair distance from their spot now, so Jordie turned, heading back. Noticing that Keone had withdrawn, he inquired,
"So you tryin' to say, if you hadn't been so fucked up in the head, you probably wouldn't never have called that dude?"
"I guess not," Keone replied.
"And you ain't never done nothin' else with a dude?"
Hunching his shoulders, Keone hated that he had started this conversation now. "I did somethin' with this dude at Forester, but that was to save my ass," he confessed.
"Save yo' ass?"
"Yeah, there was this nigga there that was goin' 'round fuckin' all the new guys. Shit, he wudn't fuckin' 'em, he was rapin' them, man. One time, I saw him bust this boy's ass." Observing Jordie's expression of shock he explained, "I was in the bathroom, takin' a dump, and he brings this kid in there. He didn't know I was in there, and he and his gansta friends held that boy and fucked the shit outta him. I got so scared, I almost passed out. That's when I told this dude named Jerrell I would do whatever he wanted to save my ass."
"How this nigga was gon' save yo' ass?"
"He had all kind of juice, man. He was with the Bloods, and Malik, that's the horny nigga was fuckin' everybody, didn't mess 'round wit' him. He knew better than to fuck a nigga in Bloods, else he'd be dead."
"So how did homey save yo' ass?" Jordie said, turning for the blanket.
Following him back up the beach, Keone continued.
"Well, he said if I met him at the showers one day, he'd set somethin' up so I could be protected by him."
"He fucked you?" Jordie inquired.
"Hell no, man!" Keone spouted, indignant. "That's why I was tryin' to hook up with blood. He said I had to suck his dick if I wanted his protection."
"You do it?"
Sullen, Keone sat on the blanket, the incessant roar of the waves ringing in his ears. Why was he making such a big thing out of this?
Under his breath he muttered, "Yeah."
"But that was different, man!" he quickly qualified.
"I didn't say nothin'," Jordie said, knocking the sand off his feet. Plopping down on the blanket, he joined Keone, their eyes meeting. Keone looked away.
"So, you didn't like none of the times you did somethin' with a guy, huh?"
"Not really," Keone brooded.
"Then, I guess that mean you not gay, then," Jordie explained.
Looking at his feet, Keone was silent. He'd started the conversation hoping to get some answers, and Jordie's last statement was, more or less, what he'd been looking for. He should've been happy, but his conscious wouldn't let the matter be.
"That's how you know if you gay?" he heard himself inquiring, kicking himself simultaneously for picking at the issue again.
"It ain't all that simple, kid."
"How come?"
Turning to face him, Jordie's reply lodged in his throat, trapped by the earnest look on Keone's face. He knew the boy respected his opinion highly, and didn't want to mislead him.
"I don't think being gay is 'bout whether you do somethin' with a dude or not, Keone. If that was the case, just 'bout every nigga on the face of the earth would be gay."
"Everybody don't fuck 'round with dudes, man."
"I didn't say everybody did. I'm just sayin', most everybody has done somethin' with a dude one time or 'nother, whether they admit it or not."
"So, a nigga can do somethin' with anotha nigga, and he still ain't gay?" Keone petitioned.
"Not necessarily."
"Then, what make 'em gay?"
"I ain't sure, Keone. I guess if a nigga is just messin' 'round with anotha nigga, he might just be doin' it 'cause he hot, like you said you did. But if he really gay, then he prefer doin' it with a dude," Jordie instructed.
"So, I sucked Jerrell's dick, but that don't mean I'm gay?"
"No."
"But what if you do somethin' else?"
"Like what?"
"Like…" hesitant again, Keone stopped. Empathetic, Jordie watched the boy struggle with himself.
Keone tried again.
"Like, what if…" The words failing him, he paused, picking up a pebble and hurling it in the sand in his frustration. Patiently, Jordie waited, mindful that he was going to have let Keone do this himself.
"What if you kiss a dude?" Keone blurted, holding his breath until Jordie responded.
Exhaling a deep breath, Jordie looked at him, unsure how to proceed. Keone busied himself with the edge of the blanket, fiddling with it.
"What was it like for you?" Jordie finally asked. Releasing the blanket, Keone rested his head on his knees, searching for an answer. Should he be honest and tell him what it really was like for him, or just drop it all together? The weight of the subject unavoidable, Keone longed for release.
"I liked it," he whispered, a thousand pounds seeming to lift off of him. Lightened, he continued, "It was me and Rashawn. He was over my house, and we was talkin', next thing I know, we lockin' lips." Fiddling with the blanket again, Keone slowly lifted his head to look at Jordie, his face inquisitive.
"What you want me to do, Keone, tell you it's alright for you to like guys?"
"No," Keone sulked. "That ain't what that mean, anyway. That just happened."
Tired of his excuses, Jordie plainly said, "When you ready to quit beatin' up on yo'self, then maybe we can really talk."
"Man, you ain't gettin' it!" Keone hissed. "I kissed a nigga, and I liked it! That's fucked up! I ain't tryin' to be like this, man, it just keep happenin'. If I had my choice, I'd never get a hard-on lookin' at a niggas ass, that shit is sick! Why I got to be like this? Why I cain't get a hard-on when I look at a bitch? Know what happened to me? I tried to go straight, when I came outta Forester, man. Wouldn't even jack-off! I even went to the park and tried fuckin' one of them ho's up there. But my shit wouldn't get up! And I was gettin' all turned off by her pussy! Only reason why I busted a nut was 'cause I started thinkin' 'bout suckin' that nigga's dick at Forester. What's wrong with me? I don't want to be like this!"
Tears stinging his eyes, Keone watched as Jordie moved toward him. Wrapping his arm about the boy's shoulder, Jordie whispered, "It's alright, shorty. You just being too hard on yo'self." Resting against him, Keone tried to fight the tears, hating how weak he appeared. Finding Jordie's embrace undeniably comforting however, he released, bitter tears trickling down his stolid face. Embarrassed by his childish display of emotions, he wiped his face moving away from his friend.
Watching the recurring rush of the waves, the pair was silent, each deep in thought.
"Jordie, you talkin' 'bout niggas bumpin' dicks so, you ever did that?"