Date: Tue, 27 Apr 2004 13:08:44 +0000 From: David Lundquist Subject: Are you gay, part 1 Are you gay? By David Lundquist "Are you gay?" Peter asked me suddenly, his big black eyes boring into me. Let me explain; Peter is the 14-year-old son of an old friend. He and I were sitting on the deck outside his family's summerhouse. A soft clear morning sun promised us another warm summer day filled with light, so typical of the West Coast of Sweden. His parents were shopping in the city and I was enjoying a late breakfast, Peter keeping me with company having nothing better to do. I hesitated before answering him. I thought about how I could evade his question, but how could I deny him the truth, any truth? Still I stalled. "Why do you ask?" I tried, hiding behind the coffee-cup. "I want to know." He looked over at me, stretching his agile body so he could better stare me down with those eyes I could not resist looking at. He was wearing a white t-shirt and a small pair of white shorts, emphasizing his long tanned legs. The skin on his legs was smooth and soft, like a girl. "But what made you ask me such a question?" "But are you or are you not?" he insisted. I could not help noticing him moistening his read sharp lips with the tip of his tongue. My defenses crumbled. "Yes and no." I answered him. "What do you mean, yes and no?" He looked annoyed over to me. "Either you are or you aren't!" "I'm both, both gay and not gay." I blushed. "Both gay and .... and normal?" "Yes." He sat still for a minute of so, thinking it over. "Does that mean that you like both boys and girls?" "Yes." "Oh." He sat up on his easy chair, rearranging his gazelle-like legs under him. I could not help staring at them. He sent me a look like he understood why I stared at him, or did he? "But, I mean....." now it was his turn to blush, "do you have sex with both girls and boys?" "What makes you believe you have the right to ask me such personal questions?" I tried to be angry with him, not quite succeeding. He noticed that. "But you told me that I could ask you everything, that you would always answer me honestly!" Did I? Sure I had told him. When he looks into my eyes he sees all the way down to my soul. I can never never deny him anything... "But what made you think I was gay?" I tried to evade his question with one of my own. "John told me that you must be gay." (John is his 16-year-old brother, one of the most beautiful creatures that ever walked the earth). "It's the way you look at him." I sighed. Yes of course he was right. I could not take my eyes away from John when he was around. "You did not answer me, do you?" "Do I what?" "Have sex with both girls and boys?" "What makes you think I have sex?" I teased him. "Come on! You're 25, you're very good looking, I know the girls think the world of you! Do you?" "Yes, I do." "Oh." Peter's bravado lessened. "Sex with boys...... I mean....... How..." I did not dare finish the question. "Do you want to know what I do with boys when I have sex with them?" I could not help being a bit cruel. But if I would have then courage to answer his questions, that was another question! "Yes..." He blushed so hard that it showed clearly under his natural deep tan. "I mean, with girls I know what you do..." his voice cracked, "but how do you.... do it with boys?" "Don't you ever do anything with your friends?" I asked him. "Do what?" He looked at me with saucer big eyes. "Oh, you mean..... you mean..." "Yes." "Oh, don't know..." he evaded my eyes for once. "But that's not got anything to do with love. I do not love my friends! I'm not gay!" He suddenly understood what he had said. "Oh, sorry! I did not mean that!" "It's all right." I smiled to him. "I can understand it's not so easy to comprehend for you." "But, what do you do!" Peter was back on top again. He moved around on his seat. Did he have an itch in his pants? I smiled to him, and he blushed again. "We mess around, just like I'm sure you do with your friends." "But, how can you do it the whole way with a boy?" He looked down in his lap, but looked quick away when he noticed that I too had seen the lump in his crotch. "I mean, a boy does not have a hole there!" He thought he had me now. "A boy has another hole there, you know." He looked aghast. "Do you mean that you stick it up........ up his bum?" His mouth was wide open. "Yes." "That's gross!" A grimace crossed his face. "It's not! When you're clean and slippery, it's very very arousing and nice!" His moth stayed open while he stared at me. "Nice?" "Yes, very nice!" He sat thinking at this for a while. Then he started asking again. It was easier for me to answer now that we had been through the worst. "Do you kiss and so?" "Yes." "Mastubr.... masturb .... You know!" "Masturbate each other? Yes, we do. That's nice, I guess you know that!" He blushed again. "What more you do?" "Suck each other." "Oh.." He closed his mouth at once. "What kind of boys do you fancy?" "Oh, nice boys. Good-looking boys. Sexy boys." "Am I sexy?" he looked straight in my eyes. He had never been shy that boy! "You're not!" I emphasized it maybe a bit too fast. "Why not? I'm nice! I'm good looking!" He grinned to me and stretched his body out on the chair. Sure he was sexy! I had just not seen it before. "Don't you think I'm just a tiny bit sexy?" He lifted one knee and parted his legs. The hem on his shorts climbed high on his thighs, showing off his long slim legs to their best. "No, no, you're not sexy!" I tried to be calm and serious. "Why not, am I not good looking?" "Sure your are." "Nice?" "Sure." "So why not sexy?" "You're too young. You're a son of my best friends!" He straightened out his long legs on the easy chair. The lump in his crotch was clearly bigger. "Do you mean that I cannot be sexy as long as I'm a son of mom and dad? Or cannot young boys be sexy?" He mocked me. "You, well, you can......." I did not know what to say. He was very sexy there on the chair, and he knew it, and he knew that I knew it. "No, you're not sexy! It's not right!" "Sure I'm sexy! Look!" With a swift movement he pulled the t-shirt over his head and leaned back on the easy chair, clad only in his tiny white shorts. His heart was working hard under the smooth tanned skin on his breast. "Look Peter, I ddddon't ttthink you should do that!" I started stuttering. "I will if you do not agree that I'm sexy!" He threw a challenging look in my face. He undid the button in his shorts, and slowly drew down the zipper. I should have protested, but I did not, and he knew he had me. With an open mouth I watched him slowly open up his trousers in the front. I managed a short glimpse of the top of a white pair of briefs, when we suddenly heard the front door open. Suddenly he was a small boy again. Quickly he zipped up and buttoned up his shorts. And when his mother came chatting out on the deck, he was reading a comic and I was contemplating the view out over the ocean. I would like comments, sent them to davidi50@hotmail.com