Let The World Go By

by: Richard

This is a story that involves sex between males. If such a story is offensive or illegal for you to read where you live then do not continue go and surf elsewhere.

While this is a work of fiction and in no way draws on the lives of any specific person or persons, there may be some similarity to some real persons or events every attempt has been made to make this non-apparent.

The work is copyrighted by the author and may not be reproduced in any form without the specific written permission of the author. It is assigned to the Nifty Archives under the terms of their submission agreement but it may not be copied or archived on any other site without the written permission of the author.

I want to thank all of you who have sent me comments about the story -- even those who didn't like it.

Part One

The Early Years

Chapter 7

The week after the incident, as everyone called it, passed; routine and calm had returned to Chesterville. Preparations for the homecoming were well underway. The excitement was growing, both in the contest for selection of a Queen and for the big game of that weekend. With many of the regulars, the big name players, out for a second week, practice became only a formality. Many wondered if the team could even win over the second string of the opposition.

Although there were four candidates for the title of Queen, there were only two real contenders: Barbara and Louise, both of the senior class. They were good friends; both were cheerleaders, and both members of the marching band. It was hard to see that there was much difference between them. Not that they looked alike, but they were both lovely in the sweet innocent way of high-school girls in the 50s. It was a shame that both couldn't be winners, but it could not be.

A week before the parade and game, the election was to take place. Friends of both were trying to glean the votes necessary to make their choice the winner. At last the day came. The ballots were passed out during the last hour of class on Friday, giving the committee the weekend to sort out any discrepancies in the counts.


Of the students in the high school who had dealings with Myron, most only thought of what it meant to themselves. Of the rest of the students, only a few of them gave much more than a fleeting thought about him. The lone student, who was not even a friend of Myron's, James Arneson, hated that everyone was saying; it was his own fault that he got caught. He was often alone in his ideas about the world around him

It took much persuasion on his part, to convince his parents that it was the right thing to do, and even more, to convince them that they should let him go. His mother was easier to convince, and she even made the phone call to see when Myron would be allowed to have visitors for the first time.

James was lucky, and the day was not a school day, or he was certain that he would have had to have skip classes in order to go. The day arrived, and James set off for the prison.

He was not certain of how he would feel seeing this person he barely knew in this setting. He had a natural curiosity about the prison, and that part of him kept him on an even keel.

He carried the permission note from his mother, and went to the visitors center lobby. It was dingy and dimly lighted. He waited his turn and finally was shown to an area he was to wait until his name was called. James was beginning to feel cold and clammy and even more nervous about his being there.

Myron was surprised when he heard his name called to go to the visitor's center. He couldn't imagine who, it was who was coming to see him. The guard had no idea either, not that he was much inclined to tell him even if he had known.

Accompanied by the guard, Myron walked the long distance to the visiting area. He had never been there, and was surprised to see the long row of chairs facing the series of windows. When his name was called, he went to the window with the number that had been called with his name. Slowly he walked the short distance to the window and the chair. He sat down to wait until his visitor was seated in front of him.

The face was vaguely familiar, but he couldn't place a name to it.

"I'm James," James said through the glass, "James Arneson."

"Oh yes, James," Myron said, still trying to place him.

They were surprised at how easily they could hear each other, without even raising their voices.

"Yes, my father has the farm a ways from town, and I am in the class with Buddy and Kevin, and the rest," James tried to clue him in on who he was.

Vague recollections began to come back to Myron as he listened to James explain who he was and how he had come to visit him.

"So you see," James said softly, "I just had to come. No one else was going to. It wasn't your fault that you got sent here, and I don't think it's right somehow, just to leave you here with no one to come and see you."

"Thanks, James," Myron said, his eye blurred in gratification of the kindness.

"I hope you don't mind," James said, "Especially since we don't know each other, or barely."

"I don't mind at all," Myron smiled, "I'm glad you came. It does get lonely in here."

There was a long pause when neither could think of anything to say, finally James asked, "How are you doing? Have you any friends at all here?"

"I'm doing okay," Myron said, he could hardly tell a total stranger of his trials, "Yeah, I've got one friend, a real good friend." He couldn't tell him much about Jenks either, not without revealing more than he wanted to.

"That's good," James smiled, "That's real good. You can't have too many friends."

"He's real good to me," Myron broke down and let some details out, vague ones, "He protects me from the rough ones here, the ones that'll hurt you if they get a chance. He keeps them away from me. Without him, I'd be in real serious trouble."

"What kind of trouble," James asked without realizing what he was asking.

"Rape," Myron said softly.

"Oh," James said, "I'm sorry. I . . . "

"Don't be," Myron said, "I've got to tell someone. And since you're the only one who's come to see me, it might as well be you." He unloaded his whole tale of woe, leaving out some of the awful, degrading details, but leaving in enough to give James a really good picture of life in the prison. He concluded by saying again, "Jenks is real good to me, we're best of friends."

"And he doesn't. . . ," James stopped.

"Yeah," Myron admitted, "He does, but because I want him to, otherwise he wouldn't."

They chatted on for a while, and finally the time was up.

"Write me," Myron said, "And I'll write back."

"Okay," James said quietly, and he got up and left. He watched as Myron disappeared through the doorway and back into the darkness of the prison. I'll write, he said to himself.


"Who was that who come to see you?" Jenks asked when Myron was back in his cell.

"A high school friend," Myron said, "A real good friend."

"Oh," smiled Jenks, "A real good friend?"

"No, not like that," Myron blushed, and added smiling, "Though he is kinda cute at that."

"It's good to have someone to come and talk to," Jenks said wistfully, "Even that kind of friend."

"You ever have visitors?" Myron asked.

"No," Jenks answered, "Don't have anybody who cares."

"You do now," Myron said, "I'll come and visit you, if'n they'll let me."

"They might," Jenks said, "After a while."


Louise Nordly became the homecoming queen that weekend, and rode in the parade atop the large senior class float leading the parade after the band and the honor guard. There were tears at Barbara's house the night she learned that she was not to be the queen. Kevin was barely able to console her, she had been so certain that she would get it.

The football team won the game, which made the weekend complete and wonderful, after loosing to the same team on homecoming year after year.


During the game Bill had bruised his hip; although not serious, it was still painful. With that as an excuse, Buddy and Bill conspired to secure Doug as the new supplier. The next day Bill called Doug to see if he could go to Doug's place and get it massaged. Doug agreed, and Bill arrived at Doug's apartment that evening just after dark. Doug had his bed setup for a massage: oils and towels that he would use. He dressed in his usual white shorts and tee shirt, wearing only socks and no shoes.

"Come on in," Doug said when he saw Bill outside his door.

"Thanks," Bill said shyly, "I'm sorry to bother you like this, but it's still hurts like crazy."

"No problem," Doug smiled, "You know I'm always glad to help."

"Could I have a drink of something cold?" Bill asked.

"Sure, what would you like?"

"Just water would be fine, thanks." Doug went to the kitchen and while he was there Bill quietly unlocked the door to the apartment.

"Here you go," Doug said when he returned.

"Thanks," Bill said and took a long drink from the glass of ice water, then handed the glass back to Doug. Doug put it back in the kitchen and returned to lead Bill to his bedroom.

"You just get undressed and we'll see what I can do to make it feel better."

Bill quickly took off his shirt and jeans, and then his shoes and socks.

"You might as well take those off too," Doug teased and pointed to Bill's briefs.

"Oh yeah," Bill grinned, and slipped off his underwear.

"Okay," Doug said, "Climb up on the bed on your stomach, and we'll have a look at your hip." While Bill had a football player's build for small town team, he wasn't overly developed. And with his light skin and red hair, he had freckles on his shoulders as well as his face.

"I see," said Doug, "It's still quite red." He touched the spot gingerly, evoking a jerk and moan from Bill.

"Yeah, and it still hurts," Bill groaned, perhaps more than necessary, but Buddy had told him to make it look good.

"I can tell." Doug dumped a generous amount of his special solution on his hand, and rubbed the two hands together, warming it a bit. Then he carefully applied the liquid to the injured hip. Bill jumped a little with the first touch, but quickly began to feel comforted by the application of the solution.

Doug began to massage Bill's hip getting him to relax. Gradually he worked the oil deeper into the muscles of Bill's hip and upper butt area. When he had that area fully relaxed, he pour some oil onto one hand and after warming it briefly applied it to Bill's lower back. By this time Bill was moaning softly from the pleasure he was receiving from the massage.

Doug could see that Bill was beginning to become aroused from his treatment. And while Bill was not particularly well endowed, his balls and dick were showing his condition between his legs. Doug applied more oil to Bill's buttocks and eased his hands down along the cleft between his cheeks. Bill groaned appreciatively, moving his legs further apart as Doug pressed into his butt area.

Doug was beginning to become aroused too, and allowed his fingers to trail along the crack between Bill's cheeks caressing slightly his anal opening. This elicited more pleasurable moans from deep within Bill's throat.

"Enjoying this?" Doug asked.

"Oh Yeahhh," Bill sighed, and he spread his legs even further apart giving Doug an even better view of his ass hole and his balls and cock, which by this time was nearly at full hardness.

Doug was too engrossed in what he was doing to notice the shadowy figure lurking in the hallway outside his bedroom.

Doug worked his skilled hands down the backs of Bill's legs and massaged those muscles as well. He worked down to Bill's toes and did his feet also. Then he carefully worked his way back up to Bill's butt massaging as he went. When he reached the middle of Bill's back once again he took some more oil and massaged Bill's upper back and neck area.

Once he finished with Bill's whole back he said, "Okay Bill, it's time to do the other side. Can't do just half a job, you know."

"Do I gotta?" Bill asked shyly.

"What's the matter? Got a hardon?" Doug asked grinning, knowing that just asking would make Bill's erection grow even further.

"Yeah, sorta," Bill answered.

"Well, don't worry," Doug smiled, "I won't tell anyone."

Bill slowly flipped over onto his back, and closed his eyes, hoping that by not seeing what was going on, his problem would go away.

Seeing Bill's pink-headed dick pulsing on his stomach, Doug's own problem increased pushing its way down the leg of his shorts, just short of being visible.

Doug quickly applied more oil to his hands and began with Bill's chest and worked his way down to Bill's red bush, easing his fingers gently under the throbbing cock that now lay in the way. He pulled his hand away and began massaging Bill's feet and legs, working his way back up to Bill's groin.

By this time Bill was leaking precum profusely and a trail of the clear slime was running across his stomach. Doug leaned over and thrust his tongue into the puddle near the head of Bill's pulsing cock. Bill groaned as he felt the warmth of Doug's tongue on his stomach. He began blushing as he thought of the fact that Buddy might be watching. Only two people had ever seen him in this condition before, one of them was Buddy and the other was Myron.

Doug now moved his fingers gently between Bill's legs and massaged his balls lightly. Bill moaned and his cock jumped and then settled once again on his stomach. He no longer cared that Buddy might be watching, he only wanted to get his release.

"Suck me!" he pleaded to Doug opening his eyes and looking down at him, "Please?"

Doug looked up at the still blushing face of the boy in front of him. Slowly he approached the pulsing cock bending close and breathing roughly. His tongue flicked out and grazed the hard cock before him causing it to rise up to meet his tongue. He opened his mouth and took it inside. Bill gasped and grabbed Doug's head pulling him down on his throbbing cock.

"Ohhh!" he groaned thrusting deeply into Doug's throat that wrapped itself tightly around the rigid cock. Bill's body tensed and exploded in pulse after pulse of hot cum into Doug's swallowing throat. "Oh God!" he exclaimed.

Doug's fingers continued to massage Bill's balls gently until he stopped shooting into Doug's throat.

At this point Buddy stepped into the room. "Was that as good as it looked?" he asked looking at his friend and Doug.

"What!" Doug cried out as he lifted his head from Bill's crotch. "How'd you get in here?"

"You must have left your door unlocked," Buddy grinned.

Bill sat up and covered himself with his hands. "Gees Buddy, did you have to come in now?" he groaned sheepishly.

"You wouldn't have wanted me to come earlier would you?"

"No, but . . ."

"Well," Buddy said, "I guess we have ourselves a new source of beer."

"What? Is that what this is all about?" Doug was dazed by the situation in which he found himself.

"Bill's a pretty good actor, don't you think?"

"I can't do that!" Doug protested.

"Of course you can," Buddy insisted, "Unless you want everyone to know how much you like sucking a guy's dick. And a minor at that." Buddy pushed down on his own cock, which was threatening to push its way out of his jeans.

"You might as well do me while you're at it," Buddy grinned.

"That was a rotten thing to do," Bill said as they walked down the street to Buddy's house.

"Yeah," Buddy laughed, "It was, wasn't it?"


It wasn't just the humiliation of being caught by Buddy having sex with Bill that upset Doug so much, but the idea that he was forced to do something which he wouldn't have done otherwise, something which he believed to be terribly wrong. He knew the consequences of what he had agreed to do, and what it could mean to them, if it was allowed to go unchecked. He couldn't allow it to happen. He would have to resign and to seek work elsewhere, somewhere he wasn't known. He would see to it the next day.

Buddy was furious when he found out that Doug was leaving the school system, and the city. There was nothing that he could do to prevent it, and nothing he could do to convince Doug that he shouldn't do it. He tried to think of all the things that might change his mind, but nothing could be found, nothing that wouldn't also get him in a lot of trouble too.


James sat down at the table that served as a desk in his room. He began to write his first letter to Myron. It was difficult to know how to begin, he barely knew him. Most of what he knew about him, he had learned that day at the prison. After several attempts barely getting a few lines, he put it aside, and decided to wait.

He walked outside and looked up at the sky. It was clear and brisk, typical of late October. No clouds to hide the moon and stars, or to keep the heat of the day close to the earth. There would be frost again tonight, he thought. It made him want to be inside and close to someone, someone to keep him warm and safe. There was no one.


Myron snuggled close to Jenks after they had finished making love. They had begun staying together longer and longer afterwards. Sometimes it was nearly dawn before he would sense the movement that meant the Jenks was going to his own bed, and feel the hand on his shoulder saying good-bye. He moaned pleasantly and pulled the blanket up close to his chin, and continued his sleep.


The holidays came and went. The dreariness of the winter set in upon the land. A cold wind blew, it seemed, endlessly, piling snow high in the yards and fields, and along the roads of the central plains. But, as all things pass, so did the winter pass, and gradually the weather warmed, almost imperceptibly, at first, but enough so that day by day the snow disappeared seeping into the dark rich soil and spring suddenly burst upon the prairie. A profusion of wild flowers peeked through the last remnants of the frozen snows of the ditches and along the edges of the groves of box elder trees, creating a mixture of gold and green and purple and blue in stark contrast to the dull muddy paths that meandered through the countryside. James for one was ecstatic that spring had arrived as he felt a prison himself in that last winter of his youth.

He looked at the envelope for a long time before daring to open it. He knew that it was from Myron, and treasured them all. Myron, though happy with his arrangement with Jenks was beginning to be more and more melancholy over his imprisonment. He longed, he said, to be free, and to be able to visit him. It was late March and James was beginning to despair of winter's silent grip.

"Dearest James," it began, " I can not bare it. This life cannot go on. I must get out, and soon or I will surely die. Jenks tries to cheer me up, it does no good. You have tried too, God knows, but I fear that I will never get free from this place, this hell that I am in.

"I grow tired and listless, I don't care not what happens to me, and have been careless in what I do, and what I say. The other day without thinking I stayed too long in the showers, and was attacked by four guys. I don't have to tell you what happened. The strange thing is that I didn't really care. Jenks was tearful and tried to comfort me. I just sat there dry-eyed and silent.

"Please, dearest James, come and visit me. I need to see your face, and hear you voice. I long to hold you and taste your lips. You can't know what it is I feel, how lonely I am.

"Please, please -- Myron."

James read the letter again and began to weep. He too felt lonely, and weary. He saw the pleadings of his friend made him feel distressed.


When he arrived at the prison for his visit the following weekend, he was delighted to see that Myron was cheerful. He beamed when James approached the window where he sat waiting.

They greeted in the usual fashion, touching the glass at the same place with their fingers, though on opposite sides.

"I'm getting out soon!" Myron almost shouted. His eyes sparkled with excitement.

"That's great news!" James returned, "When?" he asked.

"In two weeks," Myron answered, "Two weeks! Can you imagine?"

"Shall I come to get you then?"

"Would you?" he asked, "Could you?"

"I think so," James said trying to recall if anything would prevent it.

Myron was full of plans, and ideas of what he, rather, they would do. James too was excited. Myron really wondered what it would be like when he did come home, back to the town where he'd grown up. They talked rapidly as there would not be time enough for everything. And soon the time was up, and Myron disappeared once again through the heavy door beyond.


It was the fourteenth of April and James drove the drive he'd made so many times before, and arrived at the prison lot a few minutes before ten o'clock, the time that Myron had told him he could be freed.

James waited, as Myron had instructed him to do. The seconds and minutes passed slowly. James grew restless. With his window rolled down to let out the smoke, he sat trying to be patient, but gradually grew agitated. A figure appeared at the door he'd been watching, but it was not Myron. It was that of a prison guard. The man crossed the lot quickly and soon stepped up to his car.

"James?" the man asked, betraying a concern.

"Yes," James answered.

"Come with me."

James got out quickly, and followed the man back into the building and down a long corridor. Finally they entered a door marked Warden.

"James Arneson?" the man behind the desk asked.

"Yes Sir," James replied.

"I have some sad news for you," he said slowly, "Please sit down."

With no idea of what could be so sad on a day like today, when his friend would be getting out of this place.

"Early this morning," the man began, "When the guards were making rounds to wake the prisoners, it was discovered that Myron and his cell-mate were dead in their cell.

"It has been determined that the other prisoner killed Myron, and then himself."

James sat in disbelief. It couldn't be true, he told himself, it just couldn't.

"Why? How?" was all that he could manage.

"These things happen," the warden said softly. "We're still not sure exactly why, but it seems that Jenks, that was his name, was distraught that Myron was getting out today. And the distress over this caused him to do this.

"I don't know how well you understand what happens here, when two men live together for a period of time. But sometimes they become involved emotionally with each other, and this is what happened between them.

"Jenks, apparently couldn't handle the idea that he was loosing his friend, and decided that it was better this way." The man stopped and watched to see if James was getting what he was talking about.

"You knew this?" James stood up angrily, "And yet you let it happen?"

The warden stood up also, "We can't do much to stop it," he said trying to be patient with him, "If we separated every prisoner the day before his release, it might be possible, but they still would find a way."

James knew this, he understood how it was, but still he was angry. He turned and started to leave.

"Please," the warden said kindly, "Will you take these things of his, to his family?"

"He has no family," James said coldly.

"Then you keep them," the man said holding out the large manila envelope, "It's not much, but better than nothing."

"What will happen to him?" James asked, thinking of no other way of asking about Myron's body.

"We'll take care of everything," he said, "The burial will be where ever he wanted it."

James closed his eyes, and walked slowly out of the office and down the long hallway to the outside. He couldn't believe it, Myron was gone.

His eyes clouded with tears, and he barely could see to get to his car. For a long time he sat sobbing alone in the bright sunlight. Finally he looked down at the envelope, it was all there was, he thought, and he drove off.


The whole town was appalled when the news of Myron's murder finally surfaced completely, at least officially. There were those who said that it showed the wages of sin; and those who blamed faulty parenting; and those who always knew that he would turn out badly. Those who knew him, knew that it just a matter of being in the wrong place at the wrong time, and what had happened to him, could have happened to them under different circumstances. The group of guys who had been suspended from school due to their involvement with him, were most seriously offended by the gossip that flew about when the circumstances of his death surfaced.

James retreated into his shell of seclusion, having no one in the adult world with whom to talk. The one person who might have understood, and might have been able to talk to him about it, had moved a thousand miles away, driven away by the behavior of a few of James' classmates in their push to continue to obtain illegal alcohol.

Dirk watched as James walked slowly through the hallway, oblivious to what was going on around him. Once, briefly, they had talked about Myron. James had confided to Dirk that he and Myron would have been lovers of sorts, when Myron returned to the town. It pained him to see his friend in such distress.

"James," he called, "Hold up!"

James stopped and turned toward him. A small, pained smile crept onto his lips as he waited.

"Hi, Dirk," he said when Dirk pulled up to his side.

"How are you doing?" Dirk asked.

"Oh, okay, I guess," James lied.

"Say," Dirk said as if he'd just thought of it, "I've got Doug's address, if you want it. Maybe he'll know something that will help you."

James had wished that Doug were here, he was sure that Doug would know what to do.

"Maybe," James said taking the small slip of paper from Dirk. James had been too involved with his own interests at the time that Doug had resigned to much notice what was going on. He hadn't given it much thought. He'd never had much to do with Doug, as he wasn't involved with sports, and didn't live in town where he might have encountered him in other ways.

"Is it true," James asked, "What I've heard about him?"

"How do you mean?" Dirk wasn't sure he could answer the question as posed.

"I mean, was he queer?" James cringed as he said the word, "I've heard that he was."

"I've heard that too," Dirk admitted, he knew from first hand experience that it was true, but he hated the word.

"Me too," Dirk said, "But that's the word that's used. Maybe someday there'll be another word, one not so cruel."

"Do you suppose it's true?" James asked hopefully.

"I think perhaps it is," Dirk was being evasive.

"It's not so awful, is it?" James asked, "I mean to be that way?"

"I guess that would depend on the person. For some people it's right, for others it's wrong."

"How can it be both ways?" James was surprised.

"I mean, if you're a good person in other ways, then it doesn't matter if you are, if you not a good person, then it doesn't make you better because you're not that way," Dirk explained the way he felt about it, the way he rationalized his own experience and feelings.

"I suppose you're right," James sighed, "Maybe I will write to Doug, and see what he has to say about it."

"I think that you'll feel better, if you do." Dirk was sure of it, Doug was a good person, he felt that all along, even when others were saying differently.


"Dear Mr. Jensen," he began. "I've been wanting to talk with someone about the events of the past month. You're the only one whom I know who can help me.

"You may have heard of Myron's murder while he was in prison. He and I had come to an understanding about the way we felt about each other and were planning to live together when he got out, (after I finished high school). But that all has changed.

"No one knows about this except you and Dirk. He was the one who suggested that I talk to you about it. I don't know what to do now that he's gone. Can you help me in understanding about these things? Please, if you can."

And he sighed his name. He mailed it right away so that he wouldn't have a chance to change his mind about sending it, as when he reread it, he was inclined to think it sounded silly.

Each day that passed without a reply made him think even more that he had wasted his time in writing to Doug, and he felt humiliated that he had opened himself up to him the way that he had done.

But a week later the letter he got ... reward him.

"Dear James," it began. " I was pleased when I got your letter, pleased that you trusted me enough to expose yourself the way that you did. You can be sure that no one will ever know that you wrote to me, unless you want them to.

"One can never know what the fates will deal to us when we give ourselves to another the way that you did with Myron. One can never know how someone will respond to such love. All we can do is to hope that it will be returned with as much love as it was given with.

"I know how devastated you must have been when he was killed in such a senseless way. You must try to forgive the man who did it. He too must have loved Myron very much, though not enough to give him to you. Try not to hate him too much, as it will only cause you grief.

"About what you should do now. You are young, you will love again. Don't worry about that. As to the other questions, I can but speculate. You have friends, like Dirk with whom you can talk and plan. You may not feel much like giving yourself to someone very soon, but time will heal your wounds, and you will someday, I pray soon, be able to see someone with whom you will want to love.

"Please remember that sex is not the same thing as love. Love comes from the heart, sex mostly from the mind and body, as you undoubtedly already know.

"Keep kind thoughts for me in your heart. Write to me again, if you like. I will always remember that you are very special and treat you like a friend.

"Always," and it was signed simply "Doug."

He could not help but cry when he read the letter. He did not show it to Dirk for several weeks, although he did tell him about getting an answer to his letter.


It was nearly the end of the school year, and the class of '51 was making final preparations for graduation: the Junior-Senior Prom, the Progressive Dinner, the Baccalaureate Service, a Skip Day, and lastly Graduation.

James had decided that he must go to the Prom, as he had not gone to the one last year. And if he were to go, he would have to have a date. He didn't date anyone and therefore didn't have an automatic person to ask. He couldn't very well just ask someone, it just wasn't done that way, at least he didn't think so.

He wasn't really in the mood for dating. Dating, he felt should be fun, exciting, interesting, and most of all, full of promises that would surely follow on successive dates. He had no real interest in such promises, the kind that most guys, at least talked about. His experience was so limited that he had no idea that the things guys talked about were things that they had made up to secure their image. In the world of sex and romance, James only knew the way it was between guys, and that was real, not lies. He supposed that it was the same way with girls, even though he didn't want to get involved with girls that way. He knew something of the ways of the world, and knew that a lot of problems could arise because of that kind of activity; even though his knowledge was sketchy, and sometimes faulty. He knew that other guys, the ones he had sex with, were dealing with it, and he supposed that he could too.

His first several calls yielded nothing beyond polite conversation. Oh they sounded interested in going out with him, but most were busy, or already going out with someone steady, which meant that they already had a date for the Prom. Every night for a week he made phone calls to the various girls that he thought that he would like to go out with, and ones that he thought might go out with him. The results were always the same, no deal.

James confided in Dirk that he was having trouble finding someone who might go to the Prom with him. Dirk suggested that he try someone in the Junior class, as that was permitted, in fact, he told James, several that he knew of, had expressed an interest in going with him.

Buoyed by the possibilities, James began collecting numbers for one last try at it. Before he could make even a first phone call, he received a phone call from a girl he'd known for sometime, who was in the junior class inviting him to a party at her house the following Saturday. He accepted.


After the party, it was all set, he had a date for the Prom, and it seemed, anything else that he might want to do. Arlene Johnston wasn't the sort of girl he'd thought he'd like, but she was fun, and best of all, she liked him, why he had no idea. They had two more dates before the Prom, and everything went well. She even kissed him good night on the second date.

The weather turned warm, and everything, it seemed, bloomed at the same time. The night was heavy with the fragrance of spring flowers, apple, plum, iris, and lilac was just beginning.

As all the activities of the end of school required formal dress, James was outfitted in a new suit. A light gray with fine burgundy stripes in a double-breasted style with wide lapels, he looked splendid in it. New black shoes and two white shirts and matching ties went with it. His mother, it seemed, understood something of what he was going through. She, being a woman, knew the kinds of things that girls liked in boys. She cautioned him on the sorts of things that he should avoid, as if he didn't already know, at least he thought he knew.

The family car was washed and polished for the occasion, and he had arranged to double with a couple that were friends of Arlene's. A fresh, a week old, haircut completed his preparations.


His mother took a picture of him as he stood by the car before leaving to pick up his date. He smiled broadly, and looked every bit the dapper young man he was. He saw his mother kiss his father as he drove out of the driveway and head for town.

He stopped at the florist shop to pick up the flowers. The shop stayed open late that night as a special favor to the students who that night spent more than two weeks worth of income in that one night.

James parked in front of the Johnston home. Doctor Johnston had been the family doctor for many years and had a fine house in the good part of town. He hurried up the front walk and rang the bell holding the white cardboard box containing the gold and white carnations.

Mrs. Johnston opened the door and invited him inside. They chatted for the few minutes it took for Arlene to complete her final preparations. When she came down the stairs, James could barely believe his eyes, she looked stunning in her evening gown of wine color taffeta. Nervously he pinned on the flowers, with help from her trembling fingers. When they turned around to leave a flash bulb caught them smiling and her looking radiant and him looking handsome.


James barely remembered later what had happened in the early part of the evening; the dinner, the cute speeches, the formal entrance down the aisle of the auditorium to the stage and onto the dance floor. Many parents had come to see their children make their grand entrance and nearly filled the downstairs of the auditorium. The auditorium was decorated as a South Seas Island, in keeping with the theme of the dance, Some Enchanted Evening*.

The highlight of the evening for most was Tyrone singing an old song of the 40s: Let The Rest Of The World Go By**. Several guys playing guitars in a South Seas Island style accompanied him..

He began with the chorus: "With someone like you, -- a pal good and true, . . . ."

"I'd like to leave it all behind, -- and go and find, . . . ."

"Someplace that's known to God alone, . . . ."

"Just a spot to call our own, . . . ."

"We'll find perfect peace, -- where joys never cease, . . . ."

"Out there beneath a kindly sky, . . . ."

"We'll build a sweet little nest, -- somewhere in the West, . . . ."

"And let the rest of the world go by. . . ."

Then he began the first verse: "Is the struggle and strife, . . . ."

"We find in this life, . . . ."

"Really worth while, after all? . . . ."

"I've been wishing today, . . . ."

"I could just run away, . . . ."

"Out where the west winds call. . . ."

And then the chorus began again: "With someone like you, -- a pal good and true. . . . ."

This time softly at first, the audience joined in "I'd like to leave it all behind, -- and go and find. . . ."

Then louder as they found the words on their programs: "Some place that's known to God alone. . . ."

"Just a spot to call our own. . . ."

"We'll find perfect peace, -- where joys never cease, . . . ."

"Out there beneath a kindly sky, . . . ."

"We'll build a sweet little nest, -- somewhere in the West, . . . ."

"And let the rest of the world go by. . . ."

And the Tyrone by himself began the second verse: "Is the future to hold, . . . ."

"Just struggles for gold. . . ."

"While the real world waits outside, . . . ."

"Away on the breast. . . ."

"Of the wonderful west, . . . ."

"Across the great Divide?. . . ."

And then he was joined by the audience for the chorus once more: "With someone like you, -- a pal good and true, . . . ."

"I'd like to leave it all behind, -- and go and find, . . . ."

"Some place that's known to God alone, . . . ."

"Just a spot to call our own. . . ."

"We'll find perfect peace, -- where joys never cease, . . . ."

"Out there beneath a kindly sky, . . . ."

"We'll build a sweet little nest, -- somewhere in the West, . . . ."

"And let the rest of the world go by. . . . ."

And with that glorious ending, the auditorium erupted in joyous applause.

And Tyrone had to repeat the chorus one more time.

Dancing returned, with even more of the crowd joining in this time.

Before anyone had time to turn around, the dance was over. Some of the class was going out to a late supper, at a club some thirty miles away. James had no such plans, though he had heard about it, it was not in his budget.

Arlene asked to be the first to be dropped off. They lingered on the front steps just a moment, they kissed briefly, and she went inside. James then drove to the farm with Delbert and Jean, where Jean lived. Delbert lived just a few miles away, which was Arlene's reason for going home first. As James waited in the car while they went up to the house, he thought, the girls must have agreed on something, as Delbert got the same brief kiss as he got from Arlene.

Delbert came back to the car, his hands stuffed deeply into his pockets, and looking all glum and irritated.

"Damn," he said getting in along side of James.

"What?" James asked.

"Nothing," he said softly. James started the car and drove out of the driveway. "You know," Delbert said, "That they planned it this way."

"How's that?" James asked.

"That they'd both get out and leave us alone."

"Isn't that the way it's supposed to be?" James was confused.

"Well," Delbert admitted, "Yeah, I guess. But I was looking forward to some heavy kissing and stuff."

James understood stuff; feeling and groping.

"I suppose," James smiled.

"Oh well."

"Which way to your place?" James asked when they reached the main road.

"Oh," he said pointing, "that way." James headed the car out onto the road and picked up some speed. Two minutes later Delbert pointed again, "It's in that turn ahead." James slowed the car and made the turn.

"It was fun though," James said, "Wasn't it?"

"Yeah," Delbert said, and added, "Pull over here. I've got to take a leak." James slowed and stopped the car.

"Me too," James said. They both got out and James walked around to the passenger side of the car.

Delbert was already sending a stream of hot urine spurting into the grass. James unzipped and began doing the same not noticing that Delbert was doing more than taking a leak. James had finished and was shaking off the last few drops when he felt a hand on his.

"Don't put it away just yet," Delbert said softly, "You've got a beautiful cock."

"Oh," James said surprised and looked over at him, "Yours is hard."

"Yeah," he cooed, "Feel it. Make it feel good." James did as requested grasping Delbert's stiff dick in his hand. It wasn't all that big, but it sure was hard, he thought.

His own was beginning to stiffen and take shape. "Feels good," he said.

"God, but you're big," Delbert said admiringly as he took James' cock in his hand. "Really big!"

James didn't respond but moaned as Delbert slowly stroked it to full erection. He could feel himself rising to near exploding.

"Hey, easy," he said, "I don't want to shoot right away." Delbert's motion slowed, but it didn't ease the sensations.

"You like to suck?" Delbert asked stopping his stroking.

"Yeah, you?"

"Yeah, some."

James smiled, that was like saying you liked some ice cream.

James leaned over as Delbert dropped his hand from James's cock. He took the stiff cock into his mouth and let his own slip back inside his trousers. He worked his tongue around the hot tip tasting the bittersweet tang of the pre-cum. Delbert moaned and grasp James's head with his hands holding him tight against his groin. A moment later he filled James' mouth and throat with hot sticky cum, spurting the delightful fluid deep into his throat. James flicked his tongue around the exploding shaft sending his friend into convulsive jerking.

"Okay, okay!" Delbert said, "Enough!" James stopped and pressed his lips tightly as Delbert tried to slid out from their grasp. "God!" Delbert said, "I never knew it could be like that!"

"It can be," James said softly.

"I hope I can get my mouth around that monster of yours."

"You'll do all right," James said standing up. He retrieved his still hard cock from his pants and held it tightly.

Delbert looked at it, "It's beautiful. So big!" He knelt down on the grass and began lapping at it. A minute later he was trying desperately to get it all inside his mouth and throat.

"It won't go," Delbert said, "It's too big."

"Don't worry about it," James said, "You're doing fine, just the way you doing it."

Delbert looked up at him, "I wish mine was half your size.

"No wonder Arlene wants you." He put his mouth back onto it and licked around the hot swollen glans. A moment later James reached the peak and shot his load. Delbert had just covered the tip with his mouth in time to catch the hot fluid that spurt out, filling his mouth and coating his tongue. Delbert moaned as he tried to contain it. He swallowed and swallowed again as James continued to shoot.

When it was over, Delbert got up licking his lips. He looked into James eyes. "I've never had one like yours, so big, so hot, with so much cum."

James didn't respond, there was nothing to say.

"Can you do it again?" Delbert asked.

"Not for a while," he answered.

"I'm ready again."


"Yeah, feel," Delbert took James' hand an put it on his cock, "See?"

Sure enough, Delbert's cock was just as hard now as when they started. James leaned over and in a few quick moments had Delbert once again begging him to stop.

"How you do that!" he said, "God!"

"It's not me," James laughed, "It's you. You're just horny that's all."

"I guess," Delbert giggled. "Who needs girls? They can't do it that good."

"Really?" James didn't know about that.

"Hell no! They can't come close to what you do to me. Jean's tried, but she says that she doesn't like the taste of it."

"It tastes okay to me," James laughed.

"Me too," Delbert laughed too.

There was a moment of silence. "We'd better go," James said, "Before someone comes along."

"You don't want to get off again?"

"I can't for a while," James said. It was a lie, but who was to know.

"Let me try," Delbert pleaded, "Just for a minute."

James obliged by pulling his cock out again. It was not hard, but still full and hot, and still too big for Delbert to get into his mouth. He let him suck on it for a while, and although it did get somewhat harder, it wasn't going to get really hard that way.

"We'd better go," James said.

Delbert got up. "I suppose," he said, "Before you decide you want to fuck me with that. I know I can't take that much dick up my ass."

James laughed as Delbert squeezed it one more time. Just Delbert's saying it, made him get hard all of a sudden. That's what would happen too, he thought, just what would happen.

"I don't know about that," James said, "I think you could in the right situation."

"I don't know," Delbert said laughing, "But maybe another time. I think I'd like to try."

"Well," James said. "Another time then." He stuffed his hard cock inside his pants and zipped up.

Graduation came and went. Nothing would ever compare, James thought, with the feelings he experienced as he walked up to get his diploma. Tears filled his eyes and he noticed that he was not alone in the way that he felt.

To be continued

* Some Enchanted Evening -- Richard Rodgers

** Let The Rest Of The World Go By -- Keirn Brennan

If you have any comments or suggestions, please send them to Richard richardl_1@charter.net

Please include the story title and part # in the subject line of your e-mail.