Date: Sun, 10 Feb 2002 11:41:08 -0500 From: Tom Cup Subject: In memory of Steve - chapter 1 Gay A/Y interracial In Memory of Steve by Tom Cup Copyright 2001, 2002 by the Paratwa Partnership: A Colorado Corporation. All rights reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic or mechanical, except in the case of reviews, without written permission from the Paratwa Partnership, Inc, 354 Plateau Drive, Florissant, CO 80816 This is a fictional story involving youth/youth or adult/youth sexual relationships. If this type of material offends you, please do not read any further. This material is intended for mature adult audiences. Names, characters, locations and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. ************************************************************************ This story is part of the Tom Cup Library and may be accessed at http://tomcup.iscool.net or at http://www.eroscities.com Also available at the Tom Cup Library: Calvin Part 3 Chapter 32 Added 02/10 Of Our Teenage Years Chapter 2 Added 02/09 The Innocents Part 3 Chapter 2 Added 02/06 David's Christmas Present - Ch. 18 Added 01/31 In Memory of Steve Chapter 6 Added 01/29 Kevin Part 3 - Donna Chapter 3 Added 01/28 Terms of Living Chapter 8 Added 01/27 Age Before Beauty Chapter 1 Added 01/26 Stephen Miller's Journal Chapter 8 Added 01/21 A Place Called Home Chapter 9 Added 12/30 Private Lessons Chapter 1 Added 12/15 Tommy-Returning Home Chapter 5 Added 12/09 For a complete list of Series and Short Stories Available, Visit http://tomcup.iscool.net ************************************************************************ In Memory of Steve By Tom Cup Chapter 1 Sister Mine We loved each other. I am not ashamed to admit it. I will never be ashamed of that. I loved the look in his eyes, the smile on his face, the curve of his hip and the lump in his pants. I was nine years old when I met Steve. He was my sister's ... half sister's boyfriend. They eventually got married but I knew I had to have him from the moment I saw him. What was it about him? I can't really tell you. It wasn't that he looked like some guy you're supposed to fall in love with from the moment you lay eyes on him. He wasn't the blond haired blued all American boy that the Fifth Avenue and Hollywood types sear into our brains as beautiful. Hell, maybe I was just a horny little kid. I don't think so though. No, it was something else. Something that just spoke to me. I think that before meeting Steve I could have cared less about my emerging sexuality. I mean looking back, maybe I would say that I always liked guys. You know what I mean? But I hadn't made the conscious connection. But when I saw his lips, heard his laugh, witnessed his smile...I was in love and everything within me knew it. All at once I knew I loved this man. I know some of you are thinking, `Sure... he was seduced and doesn't remember or know it.' No! I made a goal of having him, making my intentions known to him, seducing him, bedding him. Maybe it was that I hadn't ever met a black man before. I know that seems strange. I had seen them on TV and maybe one or two at the shopping mall but to have him standing in front of me, in my house, made me drunk with lust. ********* Angie met Steve in her freshman year at college. Knowing her, she probably flirted her way into his circle of friends. He was a cross-country running star and popular at the college. Angie was known for screwing anything popular. I'm not sure if that's why my parents never really liked Steve, or if it was the fact that he was black. I'm sure they thought he was banging Angie when she brought him home that first time. I heard Mom and Angie arguing after Steve left. Mom came right out and asked, "How could you be having sex again after all we've been through?" You see, Angie had gotten pregnant the year before college and had to give the baby up for adoption. She was no virgin believe me! Angie denied that anything was happening between her and Steve. I'm fairly sure Mom and Dad would have reacted the same to anyone that Angie brought home, black or white. But the thought of his dark body grinding away atop of her milk white flesh kept me awake and hard for hours. Steve was always nice to me. He was nice to everyone. The second time he came to our home was to help Angie move some of her stuff to her dorm room. He had on this tank top with crushed dark gray baggy jeans. My eyes moved from his shoulders to his biceps and over his waist to his flattened stomach. I felt feverish and my stomach tossed. I wanted to touch him, to see what his flesh felt like against mine. Angie's stuff had been moved to the basement. I had taken the room that once belonged to her. So as Angie busied herself doing something so she wouldn't have to do anything, Steve and I went down to the basement to clear a path to Angie's stuff. We chatted as we began bringing Angie's belonging's up and putting them into Steve's pick-up. We were almost finished when Steve mentioned my weight set sitting in the far corner of the room. "Must have been hard to get to that," he nodded over to my workout equipment. "Yeah," I managed. "You use it much?" "Yeah," I answered trying to sound convincing and then thinking better of it, "Not really. I don't know how to use it, really." Steve smiled and rustled my strawberry blond hair saying, "Don't worry, Mikey, it'd be my honor to show you a few exercises to get you started. You work on them and the next time I visit I'll show you some more. OK?" There are two things you should know about that moment. First, when he rustled my hair my nine-year-old cock, which had been hard since he arrived, shuttered; treating me to a mild orgasm, which was only a prelude to that night's indulgence. Second, I didn't give a shit about working out. I just wanted him to come back and never to leave me. "OK," I stammered my agreement with a smile. Steve spent the rest of the afternoon teaching me exercises for alternating days of the week. When he lay down to teach me the proper technique for the bench press, I watched his muscles dance as he pushed them. I studied his chest, waistline, stomach and groin. The image of him laying on my bench and pushing weights gave me two weeks of self-play gratification. The following Sunday I was antsy. We hadn't heard from Angie and didn't know if she would be joining us for supper. Of course, what I really wanted to know was if Steve was coming or not. I couldn't think of a way to ask the question without sounding like the overheated kid I was. Steve had become the object of my every sleeping and waking dream. I awakened many times thinking of him with an overpowering hard-on that demanded to be stroked. I was learning more and more about the pleasure my body could produce. Sometimes a gentle stroking that sent mild tingles up and down my spine was enough to satisfy me; at other times I would reach body quaking, gut wrenching, back arching, pure boy orgasmic pleasure. When the phone finally rang after church, I ran to answer it. It was Angie. She and Steve had gone to service on campus and would be visiting his family for dinner. "So you guys not going to come over today," I sought clarification. "No. Not today. Will you let Mom and Dad know?" "Yeah. Angie?" "Yeah?" "Are you guys coming next week? Steve said he'd teach me more about weights." "We'll try. OK? Miss you. Bye." "Bye." I was never really close to Angie. She was nine by the time I was born and resented me immediately. I couldn't really blame her. Mom had basically stolen her dad from her mother. Then, to make matters worse, I was born replacing her as her father's baby. I didn't know at the time why she was so distant but as I grew I began to understand. By the time Angie brought Steve home we had an unspoken agreement to act civil to one another. I wouldn't call her "slut" and she wouldn't be a bitch towards me. What she didn't know, and what I was beginning to understand, was that my civility toward her was based on the parade of guys she brought home. Mom and dad stopped their conversation when I entered the kitchen. I hated when they did that. They treated me like I was such an innocent. But how could I be. I was born into a divorced family. I knew from a very young age that life wasn't as simple as people pretended it to be. People didn't simply grow up, get married and live happily ever after. I knew that was bullshit. Maybe that was why I was already experimenting with my sexuality. Anyway, how do you explain things to grown ups that they are suppose to already know? It was easier for them to think I was still their little baby. Mom would have had a heart attack if she knew I was "touching myself," let alone jacking off to the point of orgasm while holding images of naked males in my head. I told them about the conversation with Angie and they both seemed at the same time relieved and concerned. I guessed they were glad that Steve wasn't coming over but concerned that Angie was visiting his family. I left them to their concerns and found a movie to watch in the den. I didn't pay much attention to the movie. My concern was on how to let Steve know I liked him, and on the hand that gently played in my pants. When Angie called the following week to let us know that she and Steve would be coming by for dinner, I had a hard time containing my excitement. I spent most of Saturday, and Sunday morning, trying to devise a plan for getting Steve to spend some time with me. I was so worked up by the time they arrived that I felt sick. Mom noticed how short tempered and on edge I had become. She kept asking if I was OK which only annoyed me further. As it turned out, I hadn't needed to spend so much time planning to get Steve alone. To my surprise, Angie had a brain! She figured out that the best way to win Mom and Dad's approval of Steve was to enlist me to their side. "I need a favor," She whispered to me pulling me into a corner. "Let go," I protested. "Please Mikey," She whined, "I'll owe you big time." "What d'ya want?" "I really like Steve. Not like the other guys. I mean I really like him. "So." I never realized that the word "so" had so much power. Angie and I had called each other every degrading name in the book, at one time or another, when the parents weren't in earshot. I had barely ever been able to get a jeer out of her but now by simply saying "so" she looked on the verge of tears. "Please Mikey," Her voice cracked during the whispered request, "I promise that I'll stop being a bitch. I'll owe you big time just help me out. Please." I eyed her carefully. I knew her well enough that I could tell she meant what she was saying. She stood silently with her eyes downcast and her brow furrowed. I got the sense that she was afraid to let her eyes meet mine as if by doing so she would be completely at my mercy. In the end, the sight of her broke my heart. "What d'ya want me to do?" I asked She looked up at me almost in shock. Some unseen force made her step forward and hug me. "Hey!" I protested her touching me. "Sorry. I mean, thank you." "I didn't say I'd do anything yet," I volleyed knowing that I would do what she asked. "OK, OK. It's just that I know mom and dad hate Steve. I can tell. He's not like the other guys I've been with. I mean he hasn't... you know... ugh! How do I say this?" "You mean he hasn't fucked you yet?" I giggled to Angie's wide-eyed amazement. "Yes," she confessed looking away not before I saw the tear fall from her eye. I wasn't sure if it was because she finally had to admit to me what a slut she was, or because she finally realized that she really was a slut, or because she was truly in love with Steve or some combination of them all. What I was sure of was that this was the first honest moment we had ever had. "I like him too," I confessed, "I'll help you.' Again she hugged me and this time I let her. Though she didn't know why, our goal was the same: to bring Steve into the family. I would make sure that mom and dad were ashamed of even the most minor slight against Steve. He would be invited to Thanksgiving, Christmas and Easter dinner. I would pout if they even hinted at not inviting him to any event that involved the family. In this way, Steve and I began spending more and more time together. I became his champion. *********************************************************************** You'll find my newest writings at http://tomcup.iscool.net. I also recommend visiting these sites: Boyztown - Gay Pictures and Stories http://www.boyztown.net Girlztown - Lesbian Pictures and Stories http://www.girlztown.net Eroscities - Featuring the writings of Richard Dean http://www.eroscities.com Alternative Lifestyles of Youth http://www.anysexuality.com All my best, Tom Cup "Why is it that the words we write for ourselves are so much better than the words we write for others?" Sean Connery as William Forrester in the film "Finding Forrester."