Date: Fri, 8 Sep 2017 10:01:05 -0600
From: Rocky Hawkins <justwriting@soniq.org>
Subject: Hearts On Fire, A Ginger Fireman Story

Title: Hearts On Fire, A Ginger Fireman Story


Author's Note:

This story is told as a fantasy, and I won't tell you that there is any
truth to it. But, as narrator and protagonist, I am not really that
creative. So, you can decide if I made it up or not...

I love email and feedback, so let me know if you like this one!

DISCLAIMER:

The following content may contain detailed descriptions of sexual
interactions between a minor and adult. If the laws in your place of
residence or your religious beliefs make it illegal or wrong to read such,
do not continue. If this type of content offends you, do not continue.

Donate:

Nifty operates free because there's people who donate to keep it
running. Donate. It's worth the spunk.

Contact me:
Feedback and such to justwriting@soniq.org.

========================================================

'You're an Army Brat,' is what they always told me. It was the excuse I had
engrained into my mind, after yet another move, to another town, trailing
along with my Mother's 'new' boyfriend.

This time it was Osseo, Minnesota. After only 18 weeks in our last house,
Mom met this guy, Dave, and we packed up to move back to his town. He owned
land here, and Mom thought that this would be a bit more stable for us.

At this point, I didn't much care. It was just another town; 5th day of
school. I was a sophomore, just 16. I liked a lot of things, like soccer,
the sax, and computers; I just never really stayed in a school long enough
to really, you know, dig into any of them.

Except for computers. After one of the previous boyfriends, I mean "moves",
Mom had scored me a cool used Macintosh Classic. It was a beauty! 9"
screen, 4 MB of Ram, and a printer! I spent all day on that thing.

Anyway, here I was, in a new town with no friends. I really had no interest
in people my age; I was shorter than most, coming in at just 5'5", and
while I was pretty thin, I wasn't a body builder or runner or anything. My
hair, now down to my shoulders, really should have been cut; kids in my
last school called me 'Hanson', even though I have brown hair and blue
eyes. Of course, it was better than being called out for being gay. I mean,
I was gay, I get that... but how did they know that?

I walked home on Friday from school; I could take the bus, as it was about
3 miles, but there were a couple reasons not to. First, I was told that
this was rare weather. "It's either Winter, or Construction," they
said. Well, today was 70's and sunny, with a light breeze. Perfect.

The second was to explore. The town was small; I could walk from the school
(next to the park) all the way to the end of the Main St., where the road
tapered off and the outer, older homes still sat. My house was about a mile
further, all the way at the end of the fire road #7. Yeah. Our street
didn't even have a name. It was just a way to identify the gravel.

I got past the row of trailer homes, crossed the main 4-way intersection,
and hopped over the old bench for a bus that never runs. On this part of
the street was a second-hand store, a few shops that I'll never step foot
in, and the dime-store. It was a cool little place, really. Much more
selection of candy and toys than a store of its size should have, but still
fun to look in. I picked out a couple Laffy-Taffy pulls and continued home.

On the exact opposite sides of the street were the Fire Department, and the
Police/City Hall building. I was on the Police side, and stopped to
look. The Police Station had a big blue box in the front, with a light on
top, and three cars in the lot. It was very quiet; all the doors were
locked.

The Fire Department was different. There was activity. The garage doors
were wide open, there was a big green grass area in front, and smoke
billowing from the side. I watched as a man, about 40, very overweight,
opened the door to the front. He carried a bunch of... hot dogs? Oh! They
were grilling out! The smoke led to the side of the building, where they
had a half-barrel drum open and a fire roared.

I watched the man take tongs and layer the meat onto the top shelf, leaving
the grill open a bit. When he was finished, he looked over toward me, and
waved. I had a handful of books, and I shuffled to wave back, but he had
already turn toward the door. Why I decided to carry my books, instead of
packing them in my book-bag, I'll never know.

The shuffling of the books created a clumsy situation (did I mention I was
clumsy?), and it all came tumbling out of my hands. Books fell to the
ground, and papers I hadn't even looked at careless flipped in the wind. I
threw my bag on top of the books and went running to grab the
papers. Crossing the street, I found first my homework, then my study list;
the class schedule was still in the street. I ran to grab it, and I guess I
didn't think...

When I woke up, I was in a white room. "Lieutenant," a voice called out,
"Johnny Depp is waking up!"

My eyes were foggy, and my head hurt, but I took a look around. I was in a
white room with fluorescent lighting. I was laying on something soft, but
cold on the sides. I realized, it was a gurney, and I was in a hospital?

Then, the whisper. "It's ok, little man... you're safe," it said. It was a
low, deep voice; it reminded me of my father when he would calm me to sleep
at night after a storm.

I tried to focus, and lift up, but a pair of arms met my shoulders, and the
whisper was gone. "Woah, woah, buddy. It's ok. You got a little clip by
'Old Mr. Morris' beat up Chevy. Just lay there a bit."

I reached up to feel my head, and noted a small bruise. The headache hadn't
set in, but I was familiar with this... I was in for hurt later.

The heavy voice spoke again. "You're the new kid, right? Dade, is it?"

I nodded my head, turning to the voice. There were two men in the room,
sitting by a... hose? It wasn't a hospital at all; I looked past them and
realized, I was in the fire house! The two men were sitting at a card
table, in front of one of the engines itself.

I turned to look the other way, and I was enclosed. The doors of the garage
were closed, and I was in the second bay. "Ouch," I said, mainly to myself.

"Yeah, you hit your head a bit, it's gonna sting." The low voice stood up,
and walked over to me. I didn't try to get up this time, and he didn't try
to hold me in place. I looked at his face.

And I died.

I mean, you had to see it to believe it. The voice wasn't just a man. He
was THE man. The man of my dreams. The man of my waking fantasies. I caught
my breath as he leaned over me, pushing a bit of my hair away to check my
bump.

My heart began to race as my senses registered him.  A mix of aftershave
and deodorant, with a hint of something only men like him could have - he
was intoxicating. I gasp a little as the scent entered my nose; whatever
pain I had was far forgotten.

He pulled back, looking me in the eyes. They met mine, and I almost
cried. They were deep, like an ocean, but a honey-coated one. They were
almost bronze. Hazel for sure, and a perfect jaw line to boot. His hair,
perfectly falling into his face, was a fiery color. Red, and deep, but with
hints of blonde. That same red trailed into his face, a thin row of
freckles down his nose. They swopped across his jawline, connecting to his
facial hair. It was well groomed, tight to his face, but a defined line of
red scruff, lining his jaw, and creating a mask around his mouth. And his
lips...

"Uh, little man? You ok?" He said, pulling back a bit. His arm retreated
from my hair, and I hadn't realized that I was touching his elbow. I
straightened a bit, and cleared my throat, letting go of him.

"Oh, yeah, I uh, was just a little out of it there," I lied, "I'm fine
now. Doesn't even hurt."

The tall red headed man returned to a full stand. He was at least 6', with
broad shoulders and muscles everywhere. They weren't body builder; you
could tell he only used them to support his job. My fantasy firefighter.

He turned towards the gurney, and coughed a little, his own red freckles
lighting up like Christmas. I twisted my head a bit, slightly
confused. Again, he nodded to nothing in particular, and coughed again.

I pushed my hands to the gurney, to bring myself up a bit, and immediately
blushed. All the while I was examining this man in silence, my body had
chosen to react to the god before me. In my horizontal state, my basketball
shorts and boxers had given away the lust I felt. Now at full mast, my 5"
of uncut manhood had made an appearance.

I quickly reached down to adjust, but it was of no use. I felt my face get
hot as I realized: this man, whose name I didn't even know, had watched me
get, and now deal, with an erection.

I must have nine lives, because I just died again.

He smirked a little as I tried with difficulty to position my boner. It
found a home under my waist band, my shirt long enough to cover. It was
only then, he offered his hand to lift me up to a sitting position. I swung
my legs over the gurney, and he returned his hands to a position in front
of him, crossed, army-style. He leaned over once more, still facing ahead
and whispered, "Happens to us all, little man... well, not so little, huh?"

I blushed. Like a video game, there goes life #3.

The big guy in the room, I noticed, was also the guy who was working the
grill earlier. Clearly, I had taken him from this, as there was a stack of
half burnt dogs sitting on the table. Guilt hit me, and I looked down at my
dangling shoes.

I learned quickly that he was the Lieutenant. "Well, Dade. I called your,
uh, step-dad, but there was no answer. How's the head?"

I nodded and felt it with my fingers. It was ok, but it would be there for
a bit. "Fine, uh, sir. And he's not my Dad... he just... goes with my Mom
right now."

He nodded and went over to the table. He offered me a hot dog, but I wasn't
in a food mood; with a nod, the man with the low voice and the great eyes
met him over at the table. They prepared and ate almost a whole hot dog
before either of them spoke.

"I suppose we should get him home, hey?" the Lieutenant said. He turned to
me. "Mark here will take you home; he's out by Fire 9 anyway, and his shift
is up for the next 7. You let me know if that head gets at ya, and I'll
have the doc look at it."

I hopped off the gurney, and 'Mark' wrapped up another hot dog in a
towel. We walked out together in silence.

From behind us, Lieutenant called out. "Tell your Ma and fella that we will
take care of it if there's anything medical- Mr. Morris is on the Fire
Insurance!"

Mark looked at me and winked. I blushed again and followed a step behind
him. Mr. Boner was coming back.

He lead us to the side of the building, and I couldn't believe it. There,
in full color, was a Chevy C/K Pickup 3500, but on steroids. It was
HUGE. Almost 4 feet off the ground, the truck's foot holds just barely
touched my forehead. I looked over the truck, and he walked up behind me.

"I'm gonna have to help you in the truck. I know it's stupid. I mean, who
buys something like this? I promise, I'm a normal guy," he continued, "I
got it from an auction in another town. I was gonna take the lift kit off,
but they did so much custom work..."

Why was he telling me all this? Was he, blushing?

"I don't know why I'm telling you all this," he reached for my hand. "The
best way to do this is to grab you by the legs. Ok?"

I nodded, and stood toward him. What happened next can only be described as
a dream come true. Mark, this 6-foot ginger of muscle, bend down to his
knees, and grabbed me around the knees. In an instant, he was back on his
feet, and I was there, above him, with the side of his
face... directly... in... my... crotch.

"OK, now, go ahead and grab the side handles, and when you got `em," he
breathed, "go ahead and tell me so I can let your leg get on the lift."

I reached for the handles, but he stepped to the side. Reaching again, I
had to lean into him. I could feel my balls against his forehead, protected
only by boxers, basketball shorts, and hope. My cock wasn't afraid to
notice either; it had now sprung back to life, and I was getting hard right
above him. He reached his left arm up to steady me, now his right arm the
only thing holding me up. He was so strong. His left hand held my waist and
I was able to reach the first handle. He looked up at me, and seeing my
hand on the bar, moved his arm again to support my shift. I felt his hand
now firmly on my ass, holding me up as my left foot reached for the stand.

Catching both the handle and the stand, I felt his shoulders relax, and he
let me go. Well, almost. His hand gave me a slap on the ass.

"Good job, buddy. You're a pro at that. Get in," he said, clipping over to
the other side. Before I could even shut the door, he was up and in the
driver's seat, starting the engine.

"Oh, and no seat belts, so, hold on to those roller bars right there." He
pointed to some cage bars in the door and on the ceiling.

It was an interesting ride home; he knew where I lived, and it only took a
few minutes. When we got there, he pulled out my books and bag from behind
the seat, and hopped down. I opened the door, and looked to him for
advice. He pointed to the lower step and the bar on the side; it was enough
to get down, but even so, he was there to catch me as I slipped from the
rung.

"Am I gonna have to be around all the time, clumsy?" he laughed.

I laughed to, wishing it were true. Yes, I do want you around all the time.

He handed me my things, and pulled my head toward him one more time. With a
flick, he clipped my hair to the side, and looked over my now fully formed
bump on my head.

"Keep your feet elevated, and put some ice on it. You're a cute guy, don't
want to ruin that..." He smiled, then cleared his throat. "Anyway. My
number is in your book bag, I mean, for the fire station. Call me-us- if
you need anything. Say hi to your family for me."

And with that, he hopped in the truck and was off to the next road.

I closed the door to the 3 bedroom shack we called a home, and ran to my
room. For whatever reason, this old farmhouse didn't have doors, so I knew
I would have to be quick. It was already 4:30, and Dave would be home from
the print factory soon. Mom was working at the diner, so she would be late.

With no time to spare, I yanked down my shorts and reached for my cock. The
visions of Mark's smile, the way he flicked his hair from his face, the
button nose... it was too much. My hands went flying as my right hand
yanked my uncut cock to life, and my left hand found my new favorite spot
under my balls. I pushed a finger at my own hole while my hand pumped up
and down, sensations of Mark filling my brain. His smell was still in my
nose and his whisper still in my ears as my own body took over. I felt my
back arch and my legs tighten; my finger had found the entrance and was
rubbing, and my foreskin was flying up and down. I couldn't hold back any
longer, and the wave hit me. I felt my cock spit out its first shot of cum,
it's first splash hitting my belly button, then the next few on my hands
and own cock. I had learned that if I edge it for a while, I can shoot
pretty far, but the sensations that came from imagining this hot redhead
were too much.

I panted as the last wave washed over me, then panic as the sound of gravel
hit my ears. I quickly grabbed my clothes and zoomed into the bathroom,
turning the shower head on just as the Chevy Nova's old, painful engine
ground to a halt. Mom's boyfriend was home.

The shower washed away the evidence, and that night not a word was spoken
of my accident, or my afterglow. Her boyfriend didn't really care about me
that much, which was fine. I didn't really care for him either.



I must've tried to call Mark at least 17 times. I mean, he gave me his
card. "Mark Williams. Driver Engineer. Firefighter." I read it over and
over, dialing 6 of the 7 digits, then hanging up. I couldn't do it. I
couldn't think of a reason to call him.

So, I made it a point now to walk home from school every day. Most of the
time, I could save part of my lunch money (it was only $2.00 for lunch at
school, but if you didn't get milk, it was only $1.50) for a piece of candy
or a bag of chips. That was my excuse, of course, to walk by the fire house
every day.

I saw him twice so far. Once, last Tuesday, he was doing something in the
cab of the firetruck; like a test of something. I couldn't seem to catch
his eye; but even if I did, what then? I was only 16, well, 17 in 3
weeks. What would a guy like that want with me? I mean, he's not even gay,
right? I watched him talk to the other firemen outside the big rig, and
check mark things off on a clipboard. I picked out a bag of Fun Yuns and
walked home.

The second time I saw him was a heart stopper. It was unusually nice
outside, the weather had held, and everyone was out. It was a Saturday, and
my Mom's boyfriend had drove into town for some supplies. Mom gave us a
list, but he liked to get his own stuff, so he dropped me off at the
five-and-dime to grab the stuff she needed. He handed me a $20 and was off
to the liquor store. I lobbied up and down the few aisles in the store,
checking off the items. Q-Tips. Witch-hazel. Windex. I paid the kid at the
counter, who apparently went to my school. He asked me if I was that 'new
kid' from Iowa. "Yup, that's me. Iowa," I retorted.

He held my change hostage, a whole $14.74, as he continued. "I heard you
got hit by a car,"

I nodded. "Yup, clipped by a Chevy. How did you-"

"...And I heard it knocked you clean out. That you had to be revived!" I
reached for my change, but he pulled back a bit. Clearly, I was to answer
this line of questioning.

"No, not really, I mean the fire department saw it, and I did get knocked
out, but they just kinda let me sleep it off in the garag-"

"See I heard that MARK scooped you up and carried you into the garage. That
you was just a limp little bag of bones!" he laughed.

I couldn't help but smile at this gossip. I guess towns like this only had
the news of the week going for them.

"Yeah, I don't know, I was knocked out. I woke up like 20 minutes later, on
a gurney. Mark and the Lieutenant were there. It was just a little bump, no
big de-"

"So you were out cold for 20 minutes around MARK?" the boy popped up from
his chair and slammed the money down. I quickly grabbed it as he
continued. "You know he's like, queer, don't you? 20 minutes is a long time
to be alone with a fag... he didn't poke ya or anything, did he?"

My jaw dropped. I have lived in some small towns. Many, in fact. But the
way this kid went from 0 to ignorant in no time flat was just killing me. I
quickly regained my composure. I had two options. Get on my soapbox about
things and take a road that will likely get back to school and get me beat
up for months or... be a redneck.

Damn it spine, where'd you go? "Naw man, I didn't know he was qu-queer, but
there's no way he touched me. The other fire guys were right there the
whole time. That would have been fucked up."

I hated that I did it, but it was the only way. "Hell yeah it woulda. I
mean, I ain't got proof that he's a gay-rod, but my brother worked out at
the Budget Host last summer, and he told me that Mark checked in to a room
all by himself, and that when he went to go give him some extra towels, a
DIFFERENT man answered the door. Now you tell me, what do you think of
that!"

I shook my head. Part of my wanted to scream from the heavens, 'he's gay!
I'm not alone!', but the reality of my life was like, 'oh shit, people
think he's gay, and now I'm hanging around him.'

I couldn't win.

I ended my chat with, uhm, Kyle, I think? and left the store with my
bags. here's where the heart stopper happened. I was walking towards the
liquor store, my brain all a buzz, when I noticed some noise. I turned to
see it, and almost dropped my bags. There, playing volleyball in the park
with a few others, was Mark. Naked.

Ok, he wasn't naked, but he might as well have been. He was shirtless, just
like the other guys. His shorts, blue with a silver stripe, looked like
soccer gear, but I couldn't be certain. He was wearing the newest cross
trainers, with ankle socks. Not common for this area, to be sure. I
compared him to some of the others, not really noticing that I had stopped
in the middle of the sidewalk. He was taller than them; not a tower, but he
had the advantage. His hands, when he held the ball, had a precision grip,
and his serve hit the mark every time. I noticed that his hair, that
red-blonde mix, always seemed to stay in place. It always lightly covered
his face, draped to the side, and was shaved tight at the neck. His chest
heaved as he launched the ball, and I could see the outlines of at least
5-6 abs running down his front. Where his freckles stopped on his face,
they resumed on his neck. It was almost funny how cute it was. Like a
giraffe, almost, but smaller spots. Maybe more like a cheetah. My hot,
ginger-fireman-cheetah.

Annnnnd Mr. Boner was back. Damn it!

My only snap to reality was when I started to feel the pull of my bags. I
had bought too many bottles of things, and it was getting heavy. Spotting a
bench in the park, I walked over and set down. Sitting also gave me time to
let Mr. Happy settle down.

The game was rounding out, and people were resting hands-on-knees. I guess
it was time for a break. The guys split out towards tables full of BBQ
items, and met up with friends and family. I peered back to the stores,
looking for our old car. It hadn't yet moved from the liquor store, so I
guess he was still in there.

I noticed Mark move to the center of the field. I watched, curious as to
why he didn't meet up with the group of friends eating. Rather than join
them at the table, he dropped to his chest. 10, then 20 pushups. Then, up
on his feet, crouched, he bolted toward the basketball court, some 50 yards
away. Reaching his goal, he turned, jogging back. I could see his shorts
lift and fall as he jogged, his arms curved, his muscles flexing at each
stride. I was staring.

That's when my heart stopped. His eyes, first looking at his form as he
ran, suddenly lifted, and met mine. I was frozen. I couldn't look away. I
couldn't blink. He smiled, increasing his stride, towards me.

"Hey, clunker," he called out. I unlocked my gaze and turned to my bags. I
don't know why, but I had to be DOING something. Anything. "How's the
noggin?"

I chuckled a little, embarrassed, as he dropped to haunches in front of
me. He wasn't gonna let me get by without an answer.

"Clunker?" I asked. He chuckled.

"Yeah, well, the station guys kinda made it a thing. When I mentioned you
got hit by Morris' clunker, and you hit your head... well, it kind of
became a double entendre."

I perked up. He was smart, too? I mean, who in a rinky-dink town like this
would use words like 'entendre'?

When I looked up, he had his head cocked down, his eyes trying to reach
into mine. He put his hand on my knee. I shivered a little.

"I hope it doesn't bother you, big man," he smiled again. "I think it's a
great nickname for you. No harm meant."

I shook my head and commented, "Nah, it's better than Hanson."

His hand left my knee, and I watched as he flopped backwards, landing
Indian-style on the ground. Legs. Spread. Indian. Style.

I had to look away. He rested his wrists on his knees, and gave me a
quizzical look. "Hansen?"

The topic took me away from trying to avoid the view of his now open-legged
shorts. Blue, by the way. He was wearing blue. Underwear. Thankfully, my
own sitting position and the single bag of Windex on my lap hid anything
obvious.

"Yeah, Hansen. You know, like 'MMM Bop'? At my last school, everyone used
to call me that, you know, cuz of my long blonde hair? It's stupid, but I
guess it fits. I mean, I am small and have the hair, and I kinda have the
teeth and-"

"I don't think you look anything like that group." Mark said. He stopped
smiling, and flattened out his legs. His hands fell behind him, holding him
up. I could see more of his abs from this position.

I stopped talking. "In fact, I don't think I've ever seen anyone quite like
you, Dade. You are unique."

I felt my face get hot again. Damn, I was blushing. I didn't know what to
do, or what to say. Luckily, I didn't have to. With a blare of a horn, we
both looked over to see Dave with his bottles, loading into the car.

"That's my ride." I said, turning carefully with the bags still in front of
me, then standing.

"Yeah, cool," he said, standing up as well. "Hey, uhm. I teach a volleyball
class for some of the kids on Fridays. Would you want to try it?"

I picked shuffled the bags, and shook my head. "I'm not really a 'team
sports' guy, really. But, thanks." I walked away, and he called out.

"Dade, stop by the station tomorrow, let me at least check on that head,
big guy, ok?" Was he pleading?

I didn't respond as I approached the car, and I could smell liquor. Dave
had been drinking in the bar next to the liquor store. That explains the
long wait for him. thankfully, we got home of, and I made my own dinner
before bed.


In the morning, I took one of the bikes from the shed behind the house, and
rode into town. I was never a bike rider before, but now that I was
traipsing into town so often, 2 miles walking each way adds up!

It was about 10 or so when I rode past the firehouse. The main garage doors
were still closed, but the big 3500 was parked alongside. I dropped my bike
by the tree and went to the main office door. It wasn't locked.

Inside, it was very clean. White everything. A bulletin board of the town's
events had been organized, and everything was very neat and trim. I snooped
a bit, before seeing the sign: "For service, ring the bell ->"

I was suddenly nervous. What do I say I am here for, if Mark doesn't get to
me first? You know, I can't. I just can't. I turned to walk out, when his
voice whispered, "Hey clunker, why ya snoopin'?"

Confused, I turned. He wasn't in the room. I heard a snap, and followed the
sound. About 20 feet above me, Mark was smiling, hanging halfway out a
window. "I'll be right down," he whispered again. Yes, he was shirtless.

When he came to the lobby area, he was flipping on a t-shirt over his
head. It read, 'I put out' with a fire extinguisher on the front. I caught
the joke, and laughed.

He looked down, and laughed too. "Oh, yeah, we have a ton of these crazy
shirts. People send us stuff, they think it's funny..." he trailed off and
walked toward me. He was wearing compression shorts under his soccer
gear. No pants. No socks. No shoes.

I had to look down. Couldn't. Look forward.

His feet were perfect. They were wide, and well groomed. Pink and clean. I
had never noticed feet before, but of course on him, I notice
everything. Just more perfect.

"Ok," he said, his hand wrapping around the back of my head. "Let's get the
business out of the way."

He pulled my head with his hand into his chest. At first I was confused,
but I realized quickly, that he was just holding my head in place, while he
parted my hair to look at my bump. I breathed in, and caught a strong scent
of him. He was clean; he must have just showered. The aftershave and
deodorant I had smelled from him before was now replaced with an Irish
soap, and a hint of sweat. I savored it while I could.

"Any headaches? Fever? Nausea? Diarrhea? Anything like that?" He asked,
completely matter of fact. I tried to shake my head, but it was locked in
place.

Through the fabric of his shirt, I replied. "Nu, I had nuh uf gat."

"Good, then definitely no concussion," He continued, "I was worried about
that. Guys your age can have issues later if they don't get fixed up."

He pulled me from the warmth of his chest, and I found myself pushing back
toward it. His hands held my shoulder, and he positioned me to look at his
face. "Let me see your eyes."

I looked up at him, and he stared at me. Correction. He stared INTO me. I
felt the heat from his hands, and the breath from his lips as he looked,
deeply. Was this something? Could he see my desires? Did he, know me?

He broke the stare and stood up, back to his 6-foot world; my chest caved a
bit as my own height betrayed me. I was a small little boy next to him, and
simply by standing, he was proving that.

"Ok, no fog. Looks like you're ok." I nodded, not really listening. In
those moments, I had secretly transmitted my inner fears, my hopes, my
dreams, my love for him - and, he was simply giving me a check-up. He
reached behind the desk and grabbed a pair of shoes, the socks stuffed in
the tongues. As he sat to put them on, he talked.

"Yeah, so I was a field medic in the Army, few years back, then when I came
back state-side, I was an EMT. Didn't really care too much for the blood
anymore, but liked to help people. My uncle Nick got me into the fire gig,
and I've been here since. Love the job. Like a constant workout for my
body, and plenty of down time to read and study on the 'brain' side," he
paused. "Dade, you ok?"

I snapped out of my daze, and nodded, smiling toward him. No need for him
to feel bad about my shattered dreams. "Thanks for checking me out, I
guess. Anyway..."

I started to the door, but he hopped up and stopped me. He still only had
half his shoe on. "No no no, wait. I didn't ask you here just to check your
clunk, Clunker! I wanted to hang out with you. I was thinking we could go
to brunch. I get in the theater for free, so maybe we could even watch the
new release?"

I pulled from the door. I was confused. He wanted to spend time with me?
But, I'm just a kid.

"Look, it must sound weird, a guy like me asking to hang out," he tied up
the last of his laces, "But you may have noticed that there's not a lot of
people to socialize with around here."

I turned as he stood back up, and waited for more. There had to be more.

"Plus, I thought we might have some things in common."

I didn't have to say anything at that point. He grabbed a set of keys from
the counter, and we were off. This time, in a car. A normal, no lift-kit,
seatbelt enabled, car. "It's the Chief's. He's on vacation. I use it when I
can. I hate my truck."

We had a normal breakfast at the diner, and a few of the town's people
stopped by while we were eating. There was a girl or two who looked at us
both, first at me, then resting on him. I wasn't bad looking, for sure, but
compared to Ginger-Muscle-Man-Genius, I was just a kid with hand-me-down
clothes. He was gracious of course, talking to the girls and making them
giggle with his jokes. He was charming, and sincere to them; both qualities
I longed for. Occasionally, he would say something, infer something, and
then he'd look to me and wink. Each time, I blushed, but played
along. Somehow, in the 45 minutes between driving to the diner and
finishing some pancakes, we had developed a code. It was like we shared a
secret, no one else knew.

I was falling in love.

The movie was something I had never heard of. We got to the theater just as
it was starting, and the house was empty. Mark told me that they played the
matinee's regardless of the attendance, so that they could get credits from
the distributor. We sat in the third row from the back, right in the
center. He even bought me some popcorn.

About a third of the way through the movie, our hands met in the
popcorn. At first, it was an accident. I could tell, because we were both
surprised. But then, his hand would linger in the bucket longer and
longer. Each time, he would pull away, but it was clear that either he was
so interested in the movie that he was freezing in place, or that he was
looking to make contact with me.

I had to test me theory. I handed him the popcorn to hold and whispered,
"I'm done with that."

He put it to the chair next to me, and leaned back into the chair. He was a
tall man, so I watched as he hunched down a bit in the chair, his hips low
in the seat, and his legs wide in the aisle. His knees, now almost at eye
level, were barely touching the seats in front of us. Since I was much
shorter, I could lean back and stretch my legs, with ease. Slowly, about
every 3 minutes or so, I widened my stance. Each time, my left calf came
closer and closer to his bent leg. Then, it happened. His leg, widely
arched, gave way from its tense state, and relaxed. His hips twisted them a
bit, and there it was. His leg, from the thigh to his calf, was now resting
on my outstretched leg.

An electrical sensation hit me. Starting from my leg, a tingle of fire
rolled up my hips through my crotch, up my lungs and into my throat. I
caught my breath, and my body froze. He was touching me. He knew it, I knew
it, and God knew it.

"This movie sucks," he said in a low voice, his gaze still at the silver
screen. He arched his head a bit, and murmured, "Wanna get out of here?"

He stood up without waiting for an answer, and grabbed the popcorn. "Let's
take a drive, ok?"

We got back into the car, and took off. He started down a road I had never
been and drove for about 10 minutes. In the light of day, I could tell we
were on the far east of town, but I still had a basic idea of where I
was. The radio stations didn't always reach out here, and the car started
to hiss and moan over the speakers. He turned it off, and tapped the
steering wheel nervously.

It wasn't until we came to a stop in front of an old farm house, that he
spoke.

"Hey, so, Dade," he started. "I uh, well. So."

I blinked. I knew this talk. I've HAD this talk. I smiled. "Mark,"

"Oh. Yeah, Dade, you first." he sighed.

I turned to him, and noted that his eyes were glued to the house in front
of us. I was 90% sure what he was trying to say. I had to make it easy for
him. And, easy for him, maybe easy for me?

"Thanks," I continued. Be strong, Dade. "So, I'll be 17 soon. I've moved so
many times, I've barely had time to make like, friends, you know? But
that's cool, because sometimes, well, you know, you get to move somewhere
and meet someone who is better than just a friend."

I took a breath, and watched Mark fidget. He didn't stop me. Good.

"Yeah, so, like, a couple moves ago. I met someone who was really cool. We
did everything together. I even had my first kiss, and then some other
stuff, you know? It was really great to have that in my life. A friend who
I could share that experience with. I just wish we had dated or more,
because, well, I'm pretty new, but I am not naive. I was ready for
more. But you know how those small towns are... and he just wasn't ready
for that kind of situation." I stopped. Stopped breathing. Stopped my
heart. I just watched, and listened.

My words hit him slowly, I think. After I used the 'he' in my story, he
stopped fidgeting, but he didn't change his gaze. He didn't look at me. He
didn't... do anything.

"Yeah, so it didn't matter. I moved a couple weeks later and then I-"

"Dade?" he said, his hands now steady on the wheel. "Can I show you
something?"

I nodded, and he got out of the car. I followed him up the stairs into the
house, where many of the windows had been blown out by the elements (or
teenagers). There was a room toward the back, and in it he lead me. It was
airy, but dark. The sun didn't shine on this side of the house, and only a
few cuts of light came in through the rafters. He closed the door, and
leaned against it. I walked around the room, noticing that there was a
fresh sleeping bag in the room.

"I come here to think, mostly," he said, motioning to the bag. "I sometimes
spend the night here. Always alone."

I stopped scanning the room, and looked at him. His head was down, and he
was picking something out of his fingernail.

"I know you're only 16," he stammered, "but I thought you might, well, I
thought you might be... and then when you kept looking at me, and then the
hard-ons...."

I blushed. My eyes reached out to him. "Yeah, uhm, I didn't mean to. You
know, guys, they react... to what they like..."

He looked up. His eyes met mine. Come on. Read me.

He didn't say a word; before I could send him my thoughts, my dreams, my
lust for him, it was too late. His strong arms had surrounded my body. He
swept into me like a tornado, and pulled me to him. I felt our chests
connect as he lifted me off the ground to him. Our height was no matter,
our difference in size not a concern as his lips moved towards mine. They
connected in a fiery heat that forced my eyes shut. I felt my legs bend and
my toes curl as his lips, now fully connected to mine, parted and his
tongue reached in to explore. My arms instinctively wrapped around his
strong neck, my body held tight in place by his now locked arms. I felt my
hips grind against him as he twisted us around, slowly bending down to the
sleeping bag in the room. My hands started to explore his body, feeling
every ridge of his strong arms, neck, back. He responded as well, his own
hands sliding up and down my body, holding my head with one hand and
sliding across my ass with the other.

I moaned loudly as his lips moved sensually from our kiss, to my neck,
where he licked and tasted me. His hands slid beneath my shirt, touching my
back, moving to my chest, feeling my nipples, and moving back to my hips.

Now on his knees, still holding me in place, my own legs wrapped around
him. My hips and hard-on had minds of their own as they continued to grind
and stroke against his abs. I couldn't get enough of this, and he was
panting as well. Moments or hours may have passed, until he pulled me from
the embrace. I shifted a little, and an unexplainable whimper came from my
lips. I didn't want to stop! What's going on?

"Dade," he panted. "Dade, we have to stop."

My eyes opened wide, and my jaw began to drop. I didn't understand, hell no
we didn't have to stop!

He spoke again. "See, I mean, this is amazing. I want... well, there's a
lot I want. But I have to be real... I'm 32. You're..."

I interjected, "Old enough to know what I want, and old enough to be what
you want..."

He shook his head. "No, you know, Dade, this was probably a mistake. I
can't, I mean, we could both get in so much trou-"

My lips lunged back to his, and his words were muffled. He resisted at
first, but it wasn't long before his rigid stance melted. I had to show him
that I was ready, and willing, for him. I reached back at him, exploring
his body once more; this time, with a purpose.

My hands slid down those perfect abs, and as I felt his perfect hair brush
across my face, a groan escaped his lips. I had reached my target; my hands
touched him. It was hard as steel, pointing straight up. It was locked
behind layers of fabric, both from the compression shorts and the soccer
shorts - but even then, I could feel his girth. His attraction to me was no
longer able to be denied. He was hot, and for me.

Without words, his hips lifted. He pulled me against him, and his kisses
moved to my neck once again. I began to stroke him, and his arms released
me. He yanked at my shirt, and soon, my own chest was exposed. He leaned
back, taking a deep look at me. His smile felt lustful as he looked me up
and down. I suddenly felt shy. My ambition to stroke him now felt scary; he
had a look I had seen only in animals.

"Dade, you are so fucking sexy like that..." he growled. I felt like a
deer, being cornered by a wolf. And I liked it.

His hands did the talking now. All over my body, I was soon down to my
underwear. Still wearing boxers, his hands brushed my own hard cock several
times, but he hadn't yet touched it directly. It was incredibly erotic.

Laying in front of him, he stood up, facing me. He crossed his arms, and
pulled at the base of his shirt. In a single motion, his shirt was off, and
he was reaching to his waist. He slowly, sensually, pulled at his
strings. He was teasing me. Each string pull made my cock twitch; I
couldn't believe this was happening.

He slid his hands over his body, running from his neck, over his freckled
chest, down his abs, sliding inside the tight compression fabric. He
grabbed himself, and pulled at it. He was stroking, in front of me, and I
still hadn't seen him.

His other hand slid into the waistband, pulling away from his perfectly
smooth pelvis. In what felt like hours, his pants moved, inch by inch,
lower and lower. I lifted from my laying position, now inches from his
torso. I couldn't take it any longer, and reached for him. My hands
connected to his, and I pulled.

His scent was the first thing that hit me as I took in the sight of him. I
could smell a hint of sweat, with a musk that was distinctly him. What was
once a fantasy in my room, was now inches from my face. He was big. For
sure. I got close to him, my hand first sliding along his pelvis, his red
tuft of hair outlining him. His cock, now straight out in front of me, was
thick. Veiny. He was cut, unlike mine. It was longer than me, and the tip
was wet.

I don't know why, but I reached out and licked the droplet from the tip of
his cock. He moaned, and his hand went to my hair. In moments, he was
pulling me to him, my own instincts taking over. My mouth slid down onto
him, stretching a bit. He filled me immediately, and I felt dry as he
pushed forward.

I felt him jerk back. "Ooh, watch the teeth, big man."

The motion felt completely natural to me. I used my hands to play with his
shaft, while his hips slid his head back and forth against my tongue. He
stroked my hair, and whispered things like 'oh yeah,' and 'that's so
goooood', until he started to buck. I knew that feeling, as I get it
myself. He was getting close.

"Dade, I'm getting so close buddy... can you... can you take it...?" he
pleaded.

My response was simple. I slid both of my hands around him, feeling his
perfect glutes. I pulled at him, making his cock push deeper into my
throat. He got the hint, and took hold of my head. He pumped a bit faster,
his strokes now longer and more forceful. I tasted more salt as his pre-cum
glided against my tongue. He started to breathe heavily, and his arms
locked tight. I squinted my eyes shut as I prepared for it.

His cum was incredibly powerful as the first shot passed my tonsils
straight down my throat. I could feel him pulse again and again. Wanting to
know his taste, I tried to pull back, but it was no use. His strong hands
held my head tight to his body. I could barely breathe as wave after wave
of his orgasm filled my throat. His whole body was tense, and his moans
were short and low. "Uhg, Ugh, Uhh, Yeah...." was all he said.

When his euphoria subsided, and reality came back to focus, he realized how
tight I was against him. My nose was fully in his pubic hair, and his 7"
was softening in my throat. My eyes were watering, and I was slightly
heaving when he let go. His hands flew back, and I pulled away, gasping for
gulps of air. I wasn't choking, but the sensation of no air did make me a
bit panicked. He stroked my hair as I recovered from it, and when I was
breathing normal, I looked up at him and smiled.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"What for?" I asked.

"Well, I was a bit rough."

I laughed. "I've wanted that for weeks. It was awesome. Don't worry about a
little coughing. I'll get better."

This time, he laughed. "I push you onto my cock, almost choke you, and
orgasm directly into your stomach - and you're worried about 'doing better
next time'? You are seriously unbelievable."

I leaned into him, and tried to pull him to the floor. He held fast, but
then let me yank on him. When we were both on the sleeping bag, I cuddled
into him. With our size difference, I felt very safe. His warm, naked body
against me, and his arms under me, holding me close - it was the dream come
true.

"Are we dating?" I asked. I looked up to him, and he stroked my hair a
little, his own mind deep in thought.

After a moment, he responded. "Well, I think until you turn 17 and have
some legal ground, let's just call each other 'friends'. After you hang out
with me for a while, and you hit some milestones, we can talk about what it
means to us, and where we should be. How's that?"

I nodded, and smiled. He may not want to call it that, but I was sure going
to think it.

We laid there for a while, his hands still roaming my body, lazily. I
sighed happily, and didn't even think about my own dick, ranging from hard
to soft over and over this whole time. But, as it seems, Mark did.

He sat up abruptly, and I found myself flat on my back. "Mark, what's
wrong?"

His eyes furrowed and his chest heaved. I started to pull myself up, moving
from a laying position to now resting on my elbows. Mark crawled to me, his
face against mine, and he kissed me again. I melted as I felt him explore
my body again, his strong hands sliding down my own pale chest. He broke
the kiss, looking at me and smiling. I smiled back, satisfied with the
kiss, but he wasn't done. With cat-like swiftness, my boxers were yanked
from my body; my hardness exposed to the air.

I gasped, and watched as he began to kiss me. First my cheek. Then my
chest. My abdomen. My Pelvis. His hands slid between my legs, and took hold
of my inner thighs. I felt my heart pounding, and my own cock was at full
mast. When his hand finally grasp my fully erect 5", I fell back. The
sensations of his touch were killing me, and I had never felt so much. He
chuckled at my small moans, each time his hand would caress my body, or
slowly stroke my cock.

I had to see, so I lifted back up. Mark was on all fours, his ass high in
the air, my own cock just inches from the side of his face, wrapped in his
strong right hand. As if it were a joystick, Mark slung my cock to the
left, the shat and head slapping against his face. I could feel the stubble
from his freshly trimmed beard, and the feeling of my hardness against him
was intoxicating.

"I knew you were a big boy," he said. I blushed. Compared to him, I wasn't
anything special. He easily had two inches on me. I began to speak, telling
him I wasn't 'that' big, but he shushed me.

"Dade, I'm telling you. This is perfect. I love your body. All of it. I'd
like to know you. Ok?" he was pleading.

 I just nodded, and he smiled.

 The next few moments took the last of my nine lives. His mouth, warm and
soft, engulfed me from tip to base, in one fell swoop. His tongue circled
my shaft as he pulled back, and my mind saw only stars. His hand, once at
my cock, was now sliding up and down my thighs, sometimes tracing my hips,
other times moving to my chest. I couldn't hear or see anything; only the
feelings of his touch, and the wet warmth of his mouth existed. He sucked
in each time as he stroked my cock with his mouth, taking a moment each
time to stretch and release my foreskin. This was unlike any jerk off I've
ever had, and he was getting me close.

 He took his tongue to the inside of my foreskin, swirling around it; my
hips reacted to the intensity of it, and my back arched as well. He knew I
was almost there, so he tightened his lips and pushed forward. The extra
friction pulled my foreskin back, and his mouth engulfed my cock, my head
now rubbing against his throat. Without the protection of my hood, I
couldn't hold back. My breath got shallow as I felt the wave coming, and I
couldn't speak. I began to whimper, to moan, and I felt his hands come
together at my stomach. He began to bob up and down, faster and faster on
me, and my heart stopped. All time stopped. My brain exploded as my cock
began to shoot pump after pump of my cum into his mouth. He pulled back,
the foreskin coming with him, and kept me halfway in his mouth as I
shot. He stroked me slowly, milking each pulse out of me. I wasn't sure how
much I shot, but I felt like it was more than I'd ever had before.

 I came down from the high, and opened my eyes. Mark was still between my
legs, his face buried, his nose at my pelvis. His hand, once on my chest,
had moved to his own thick cock. I lay there, still, as he swirled my cock
in his mouth, my cum still on his tongue, furiously jerking himself. He
pulled off my body, on his knees in front of me, and moaned. His hand flew
back and forth along his cock, and a jet of cum shot out, landing on my
thigh, then my cock. His eyes were closed tightly, and his jaw was wide,
his moans now grunts as each shot of his orgasm coated my body.

 We both breathed heavily when he collapsed next to me. The sleeping bag
had taken a beating; covered in sweat, cum, and tossed around from our
foreplay, it was useless to even try. My own body was much the same; both
of our cum making my dick sticky, my own sweat running down my body.

 Mark panted, then turned to his side to face me. He propped up on one arm,
and put his other hand to my chest. He could feel my heart still pounding,
having felt the most amazing thing in all my (almost) 17 years.

 "You... were great," he breathed. "And you taste amazing."

 I laughed at the thought. I mean, I guess I never thought about how my cum
would 'taste'. I didn't have a response, but I did have questions.

 "So, Mark... I really like this. I mean, I like you..." I stammered. I
didn't want this to end. I didn't want him to go away. "I will never tell
anyone anything, I just..."

 He interrupted me with a kiss. A long, slow, salty kiss. I could taste my
own cum on his tongue. Surprisingly, it was kind of appealing. Almost, a
turn on. He pulled back.

 "Well, we can't tell anyone, for sure," he said. "Not for a while. But,
I'd love to give this a chance. I really like you, Dade. It's hard to find
people like us, and even harder to find a match. I don't know if we fit,
but I'd like to find out. I mean, at the very least we know that we find
each other attractive, so that's a start. And we seem to do well in the
bedroom, so far..."

 I blushed again. I mean, I know I am naked in front of him, and we just
did so many things, but it's still weird to TALK about sex, you know? I
want to know what he meant by 'in the bedroom, so far', but he was already
talking.

 "So yeah, I think that I want this. Mr. Murphy," he raised up a bit, and
mounted me. His legs came over each side of my chest, and his ass, tight
and firm, rested gently on my stomach. His cock, now only 4" or so, flopped
to my chest. He placed his hands on my shoulders, and looked me in the
eyes. I looked at him, his long red bangs now hanging down from his face,
pointing at me. I began to think about my own hair. I wonder what kind of
mess I must look like!

 "Hello? Mr. Murphy?" I snapped back. He smiled and waved his hair back and
forth, touching my nose with it.

 "Oh, sorry, yes, Mr. Taylor?" I replied, using my low voice. Official
time. Got it. I couldn't help but smile.

 He leaned into me, and kissed my nose. "Would you be my steady fella? Even
if I can't show you how much I want to jump you every time I see you? Even
if I can't take you out to make-out point or kiss you in line at the
grocery store? Even if we have to keep a few secrets? Even if-"

 I stopped him by bounding up to his lips. My kiss gave him the answer he
needed, and he wrapped around me in an embrace. It was the perfect day, and
turned into the perfect year.

 Ok, so it wasn't completely perfect. Truth be told, it was difficult as
hell. I turned 17, and we had to come up with a system to see each other. I
joined the Volleyball thing so that I could be around him without raising
suspicion, but of course, kids at school started to make fun of me for
it. Well, they made fun of everyone in that class, so at least I wasn't
singled out. We had to find ways to meet alone, which wasn't easy with his
schedule and my Mom. I mean, I was 17, but Mom was still putting me on
curfew. We found another place, on Fire Route 5, that had a small brook and
an old wheat mill. At night, especially if Mom and Dave had been drinking,
I could sneak out and hop the fence over to it. It was less than a mile,
and I would take clothes with me. In the early morning, Mark would drop me
off behind the school, and I would just hang out until they unlocked the
doors. We had a study hall for 1st period, so it wasn't unheard of for
kids, especially farm kids, to get there early.

 About 6 months into it, we had a couple scares. First, Mom and Dave broke
up, so she threatened to move. Through some begging, pleading, and a secret
connection from my boyfriend, we found an apartment in town, above the
hardware store. The rent was cheap, and Mom's job easily covered the
rent. Now that I was living in town, we lost the wheat mill, but from my
room, I could see the firehouse!

 Later that month, Mark was in an accident. The strut on his truck snapped,
and with the lift kit and everything, the truck toppled, then rolled. He
broke his arm, and was in the hospital for weeks with other injuries. I
couldn't see him for a while, and that really made me depressed. I almost
failed Trig that semester.

But, there's a silver lining. I'm 19 now. My scholarship was approved, and
I am now living in Minneapolis, a freshman at the University of Minnesota,
Twin Cities. Mom fell in love with the hardware store owner, and they now
run it together. I see her on holidays.

As for Mark; he took another job, and left that small town. With me now in
Minneapolis for college, he felt it was time to move on. He now works at
the St. Paul Fire Department as a Lieutenant himself. I am very happy for
him.

We found a great little place in St. Paul, and it's only 15 minutes from
school. We've been living there a few months now, and it's been great. We
haven't had a fight yet, and my eyes still light up every time he comes
home. Have you ever lived with a firefighter? Try it sometime. They are the
best cooks in the world, and they can make love all night.


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Like it? Email me.  justwriting@soniq.org