By Wes Leigh
This is a work
of fiction intended solely for the entertainment of my readers; any resemblance
to any real people or places is purely coincidental. Readers who would like to chat are encouraged
to contact me at weston.leigh@protonmail.com.
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the property of the author and is protected by copyright laws. The author retains all rights. No
reproductions are allowed without the author's consent.
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Jack tried to ignore the television blaring
in the background. His mother hated
hearing it on while they were eating dinner, but his dad always insisted,
claiming he needed to hear the latest news.
Jack cut off another bite of pork chop and stuck it in his mouth,
chewing.
"The President signed the Fairness for All
People Act today," the news anchor was saying, while video played of a White
House ceremony in which a smiling man scribbled his signature on paper while self-satisfied
sycophants stood all around. The anchor
continued, "Supporters hailed the legislation as a step in the right direction
for recognizing the rights of all people, whatever their sexual identification,
orientation, or predilection, to express themselves sexually without fear of
reprisals from State and local laws. The
Act overrides all laws that restrict, and in some cases criminalize, sexual
behavior between consenting people."
Both of Jack's parents were no longer eating.
Their heads were turned, listening to
the news report.
The anchor went on, "Not everyone is happy
with the Act. Some detractors point out
that the new law establishes a nation-wide age of consent at fifteen years of
age. Protestors claim this will encourage
sexual predators to seek out minors for sex."
The scene switched to a reporter talking to a
woman in a suit. The reporter asked,
"Senator Friedman, what do you say to those who claim your bill will encourage
pedophilia?"
The woman in the suit laughed, "It does no
such thing! Do you realize how
inconsistent the States are regarding age of consent? You have States that allow sixteen-year-olds
to enjoy sex with whomever they please located next to States where you must be
eighteen to consent. It's led to
confusion, chaos, and wrongful criminal prosecution. We're simply trying to bring common sense and
clarity to the Nation."
"But some have claimed you've gone too far by
lowering the age of consent to fifteen," the reporter persisted.
Senator Friedman shrugged her shoulders. "Many experts say we haven't gone far
enough. The age of consent in some
nations is as low as eleven. Jewish boys
and girls come of age at thirteen when they undergo their bar mitzvah or bat mitzvah—"
The reporter interrupted, "But some
psychologists believe younger teenagers aren't truly able to consent—"
The Senator interrupted right back with, "Teenagers
are fully aware of the consequences of their sexual
behavior. Anyone who says otherwise is
not in touch with the present times."
Jack cringed when he heard that. `Here we go,' he thought.
It began with a long, drawn-out sigh from his
mother.
His dad glanced sideways at her, smirking.
She saw the smirk and frowned.
"You might as well say it as think it," his
dad said, with a grin.
She put down her fork and snapped, "You don't
know what I'm thinking."
He chuckled.
"Oh, but I do. You're thinking
this is going to lead to a sexual free-for-all, with teenagers going wild and having
sex left and right."
She picked up her fork and angrily stabbed
her pork chop. "I'm thinking nothing of
the sort."
"Then what are you thinking?" his dad asked.
She glanced nervously at Jack. "I'm just concerned that it will be a green
light for more ... exploration, by young people who aren't ready for sex."
Jack threw his napkin down next to his
plate. He'd heard it all before. The fears that he would be careless and catch
all sorts of horrible diseases now that he was openly gay. The worries that he would be having sex every
chance he got the moment he was out of his parents' sight. The insinuation that gay men were unable to
control their sexual behavior, and since Jack now admitted to being gay, the
assumption that Jack couldn't be trusted even to date another guy.
Jack had to be honest and admit his parents
weren't as bad as they could be. They
hadn't freaked out when he told them he was gay. They hadn't threatened him, rejected him, or
been hateful in any way. But that didn't
mean they weren't driving him crazy over it.
His dad kept a close eye on every place Jack went, demanding to know
where he was every minute of the day, who he was with, what they were
doing. And his mom ... she dropped
not-so-subtle hints all the time.
Judging by her insinuations, she probably believed gay men dropped their
pants and fucked in public every chance they got. Jack was sick of hearing it.
"Can I be excused?" Jack asked.
"You haven't eaten your food," his dad
commented.
"I'm not hungry," Jack replied. "I've lost my appetite."
His mother and father exchanged glances,
silently accusing one another.
"I'll put your food in the refrigerator," his
mother said. "You can reheat it if you
get hungry later."
It
didn't do much good to go in his room.
He could still hear his parents arguing.
"How
can you say this is a good thing?" his mother asked, getting more and more
frustrated with his father.
"How
can you say it's bad?" his dad responded.
"That
should be obvious," she snapped. "It
will encourage promiscuity, especially among groups—" she paused and lowered
her voice, but Jack could still hear her— "that are already predisposed to it."
"You
mean like gays?" he asked.
"Keep
your voice down," she hissed.
"Babe,
we don't even know if that's true or a silly myth."
"It's
a fact," she replied. "Look at how AIDS
spread so rampantly in the 90's.
Scientists know it started with gay men having frequent, multiple
partners."
"That
was the 90's," he insisted. "I think
everyone is smarter now. Certainly gay men are."
"You
don't know that," she replied.
"I do
know that gay men are no different than hetero men. We're all horny, all the time."
"This
is no joking matter," she said, exasperated.
"Our son is gay."
He
chuckled. "I am well
aware of that, babe. Why do you
think I keep such a close eye on him?"
"Well,
it's going to be harder for you to do that now.
This law sets him free to have sex with anyone he wants, without our permission."
"I think
you're taking it too far. We have a very
responsible fifteen-year-old. Jack isn't
going to change just because some pandering politicians passed a law."
Jack
wanted to cheer. `Good job, Dad. Thanks for the vote of confidence.' But his father's next words made his heart
sink again.
"Don't
worry, babe. He's still living in our
house, operating under our rules. I'm
not removing the internet controls. He
still has to tell me who he's with whenever he goes
out. Nothing has changed."
͠ ͠
͠
But that wasn't true.
Something had changed.
Not the stupid law. Not his attitude about sex. Not even his plans for sex, now that he had
turned fifteen.
No, what had changed was Jack's heart. It had taken years, but he was finally beginning
to accept himself fully
Like every other boy, puberty had
been—without a doubt—the most confusing curse to ever strike his teenaged
body. He had struggled to understand the
sexual urges he began to feel when it started.
They were random, unfocused, and unexpectedly activated by the touch of
shampoo on his throbbing erection or the warm arm of a schoolmate brushing
against his own or a bunched-up pillow underneath his groin in the middle of
the night. Over time, his urges began to
make more sense. He came to realize that
certain friends at school caused harder boners for him, that thinking about
those friends while jacking off resulted in more explosive orgasms, and that
each of those friends, like him, had one thing in common: cocks between their legs.
Like all the other boys, he found puberty to
be a confusing and unsettling time.
Unlike the other boys, he found himself dealing with the added burden of
being attracted to other guys.
His parents hadn't made it any easier. When he took them aside at the age of
thirteen and told them he was gay, they hadn't believed him at first. "It's just a phase," they had said. "You'll grow out of it."
But he hadn't. It wasn't like he'd actually
grown into it, so what was there to grow out of?
It was simply the way it was. He liked boys. They made him hard. He shot his wad while thinking about boys as
he jerked his cock.
He didn't like girls. Well, not in that way. He liked them as friends, but they didn't
make him hard when they touched his arm in a flirtatious way, not like it did
his friends. And when he saw his friends
with tented out pants, that was when he did get hard, so the only
thing he found sexually exciting about girls was the fact that they made the
boys sexually excited.
His parents had finally accepted that he was
gay, though not without consequences, such as his dad's ever-present hovering
and his mom's constant harping. But at
least they had accepted it. They didn't
support him or encourage him, but they didn't hate him or despise him. That was a good thing, right?
At the age of fourteen, Jack had told a few
friends at school that he was gay. They
seemed to accept it just fine, as though it was no big deal. Word spread to the other kids. No one made a fuss over it. He didn't get called names or bullied or
harassed. He'd been a popular guy before
the Big Revelation, and so no one seemed to care that much. The girls kept flirting with him, making it a
game. His friends kept hanging out with
him, not minding if Jack saw them pop boners as they joked about girls. No biggie.
But for Jack, there was one serious
problem. All his friends began dating,
and though they weren't all that successful at getting their hands inside the
pants of their dates, they were at least making the attempt.
Jack, on the other hand, wasn't even
dating. For one thing, there weren't
that many gay guys to choose from at his school. For another, his parents wouldn't allow him
to date.
It was all ridiculously unfair. How was he supposed to figure out what it
meant to be gay if he couldn't have a boyfriend, couldn't go on dates, couldn't
kiss, and couldn't get hot and bothered and have to
stop before things went too far?
Jack stood up and irritably stripped off his
shirt and threw it into the clothes hamper.
He pushed his bedroom door shut, locked it, and stood in front of the full-length
mirror on the back of the door. He
studied his upper body, critically examining it. Would a gay man find him attractive?
He wasn't particularly muscular. His body was fairly thin.
You could even see his ribs. His chest was hairless, and there was just
the tiniest trail of black hair leading from his belly button down into his
pants.
His face was cute enough. Not stunning.
Not amazing. But he was
handsome. His blue eyes were probably
his most notable feature. They seemed to
complement his wavy, black hair. His
lips were ruby red, full, kissable. Or
so it seemed to Jack. He'd want to kiss
a guy with lips like his.
He unbuttoned his pants and pulled the zipper
down, slid his pants and underwear to the ground and stared at his soft
cock. It was average. About the same size as what he saw hanging
from the other boys during showers after gym class.
He took his cock in one hand and gently
stroked it. It was great having a foreskin. It made jerking off better, or so he'd read,
from the websites he enjoyed visiting. His
dad's internet monitoring program wasn't hard to bypass.
Jack pulled the skin back, exposing the dark
red cap of his cock. It seemed to swell
up like an engorged mushroom when he got hard, as he was doing now. When he was fully hard, the skin stopped
below the head. It was a stretch to pull
it back over the cap, but the sensations he got from doing so made his head
spin. He tugged the skin up and down,
stroking his cock to full boner status.
`Not bad,' he thought. `Not porn
star quality, but decent for a fifteen-year-old.'
And it really was a decent size. Six inches.
Fairly thick. Straight as an
arrow and pointing at the ceiling when it was throbbing at its hardest.
His balls were full, hanging down in a
hairless sac. He cupped them with his
left hand while he stroked his cock with his right hand, stretching the skin
slowly up over the cap and then pulling it back down again. He continued stroking as he looked at his
legs. They were thin too, nothing
special. They were almost hairless on
his upper thighs, but his calves had a nice smattering of dark hair. Not like Nate Matthews.
Nate Matthews. What a stud!
Center forward for the varsity field hockey team. Brown hair.
Green eyes. Legs like tree
trunks. Hair on his chest, his calves,
his massive thighs. Nate even had hair
on his balls and inside his ass crack, which Jack had been lucky enough to see
the last time they'd been in the shower after gym and Nate had been bending
over to wash mud off his legs.
It was Nate's legs that drove Jack wild. He could just imagine himself between those
legs, running his hands up and down the powerful muscles, sliding his fingers
along the hard sinews of his upper thighs up to that heavy cock, watching it
swell and fill up to who-knows-how-many inches.
It was certainly big enough when Nate was soaping up. He could be a shower, not a grower, but
somehow Jack suspected Nate of being one of those guys who had an eight or
nine-inch monster.
Would Jack want a boyfriend like that? So huge you couldn't quite fit it in your
mouth ... or anywhere else for that matter.
He pictured Nate pushing him back onto the
bed, stretching out on top of him, holding him down with his powerful
body. Nate would kiss him, tenderly but
passionately, as he reached down and rubbed on Jack's most intimate
places. Jack would spread his legs wide,
inviting Nate to go lower. Nate's
fingers would rub and press, sliding in and opening him up, preparing him. Then Nate would kiss him again, covering his
mouth completely so his muffled screams wouldn't alarm anyone as Nate pushed
his monstrous cock up into Jack's body.
Just the thought of Nate penetrating him sent
electric sensations through Jack. He
arched his back and stroked faster, sucking in several rapid breaths as his
orgasm built. He felt his balls sucking
up into his body. It was starting. Quickly, he cupped the end of his cock with
his left hand and caught the creamy ejaculate squirting out of his cock. He kept stroking, slowly, milking out the cum
into his palm. Then he wiped off the
last drops and took a deep breath. That
had been one of his best cums yet, probably because
Nate was one of his biggest crushes.
Jack lifted his left hand to his face and
sniffed the slimy liquid in his palm.
Wrinkling up his nose, he found the smell somewhat sour. How could anyone eat this stuff, he wondered? He pulled tissues out of the dispenser on his
desk and wiped up the cum in his hand, then cleaned off his cock and tossed the
tissues in the trash.
Looking back in the mirror, Jack absent-mindedly
stroked his cock, draining the last few drops of cum and wiping them on his
stomach. He planned to shower later and
clean up completely. His gaze travelled
back up to his eyes. He stared into
those blue eyes and had a conversation with himself.
`Jack,' he said, `what are you going to do
about this?'
`I don't know,' he replied. `What do you think I should do?'
`I guess it depends on what you want from
life. Have you figured that out yet?'
`No,' he had to reply, being totally honest
with himself. `I'd like a boyfriend, but
I'm not sure I'm ready for sex.'
`Yeah,' he had to agree, `that's a big
step. Maybe smaller steps? For now?'
`Like what?' he asked himself.
`Maybe kissing? Grabbing each other ... down there?'
`Kind of need a boyfriend first to do that.'
`Sure.
It works better that way. Random
strangers usually get upset if you grab their cocks.'
He giggled at himself. `They get even more upset if you ask them to
grab your cock.'
`Goofball,' he replied, `You don't need a
stranger. You grab your own dick often
enough.'
He frowned.
`How can you say that? Twice a
day isn't that bad.'
`Twice a day?' he asked himself with a frown.
`Are you forgetting last weekend?'
He blushed.
Last weekend had been nice. Both
parents gone. Lots of hand lotion. Visions of the entire field hockey team
playing naked. His cock had been red and
raw after the fourth orgasm, which had produced only a single drop of cum,
despite making his body shake violently as his balls attempted to produce more
juice.
That had been fun, but he was tired of
juvenile jerking off sessions. He wanted
more from life. He wasn't sure what
he wanted, whether it was a boyfriend to kiss or a lover to share his bed, but
he wanted something.
That stupid law the President signed hadn't
really changed anything about how Jack was going to live his life, but it had
changed one thing. Jack was no longer
satisfied with his own hand and his teenage fantasies. He was determined to explore who and what he
was.
Maybe his mom was right in one way. He felt he had permission to tear down the
barrier between him and love.
The end of THE
BARRIER, Chapter One