The following fictional narrative involves sexually-explicit erotic events between men. If you shouldn't be reading this, please move on.
In the world of this story, the characters don't always use condoms. In the real world, you should care enough about yourself and others to always practice safe sex.
The author retains all rights. No reproductions or links to other sites are allowed without the author's consent.
The town of Stafford, the Sunrise Arts Center, and the characters in this story are fictitious.
Special thanks to Mickey and Drew, who have provided inspiration, advice, and encouragement throughout the writing of this series.
The meeting I organized with the art faculty of the local high schools took place in due course. It went well. They seemed pleased that I wanted to coordinate more closely with them. We arranged for more frequent visits of their students to Sunrise, and I told them that with enough notice we could usually provide a docent, so the teachers who came along wouldn't have to talk about the exhibits unless they wanted to. I reminded them that our library was available to their students, and then asked them how they thought we could help them. It was a good discussion. At the end of the meeting, I suggested that they select one art teacher from each of the two high schools to be liaison with me. The Stafford High staff chose, to my delight, Stuart Blount. I was hoping it wouldn't be "the Burleigh" as I'd come to think of her, and the chair of the department said she simply didn't have time.
Stu invited me to come to see him after school later that week so he could show me around their facilities and explain their courses. I did that. Stu was a good host, and I enjoyed seeing the Stafford High art facilities.
The following week we met at Sunrise.
We had been upstairs looking in briefly on an acrylics class being taught by a local artist mainly for retirees and walked past the library on our way to my office. I wanted to grab a newly-acquired book to show him, so we stepped in to the large room. Sitting together near the end of the long table in the middle of the room were Louis and Judd. Although they had books and papers spread out on the table in front of them, it didn't look to me as if they'd been studying. Judd was flushed, and both boys seemed flustered.
Louis started to stand up, but I noticed that Judd pulled him back down. Not in time to keep me from seeing that Louis was throwing considerable wood.
"Don't let us bother you, guys. I just wanted to get a book to show Mr. Blount."
"Hi, guys," Stu said, "working on school stuff?"
"Yes, sir," Judd said, "Louis has really helped me out with my art class."
"Yeah, you've got a good tutor there, Judd."
Stu looked at me and grinned as we went back to my office and sat down. "Don't think there was much studying going on just before we got there."
"They're both nice kids. I'm glad they've become friends. But I'll have to have a word with Louis. I know him better than I do Judd since he was here last summer helping with Art Camp."
Stu chuckled. "I'd never had any idea that Judd was gay, but it surely looked that way, didn't it?"
"Well, teen hormones being what they are, I suppose copping a feel is copping a feel, whether you're straight or gay. You might just remind them to be a bit discreet."
"I'm glad you're so understanding, Stu."
I was also glad to be sitting behind my desk. The man across from me was enough to get me as hard as Louis had been, and he'd never touched me. I've previously described him as having curly red hair and green eyes. He had broad shoulders, a narrow waist, big feet and hands. There were freckles and fine red hairs on the backs of his hands. Although he was only three or four inches taller than me, he seemed bigger. I squirmed in my chair because I was having visions of his grabbing me and carrying me off to his Viking boat and having his way with me. Discreetly adjusting my hardon, I managed to bring my attention back to what he was saying.
"Uh, I'm sorry, Stu. My mind wandered there for a minute. What were you saying?"
He gave me a puzzled look and said, "I said I can be understanding because as an art major at the university I had lots of gay friends. And as an art teacher, I see my share of gay students."
I took that to mean he was reminding me that he was straight, so I changed the subject by asking him what his special field of art was.
"I paint miniatures."
"Sometimes. But I also do miniature still lifes and landscapes."
"Could I see some of them sometime?"
He smiled, and I got even harder, if that was possible.
"Sure. I've converted a bedroom into a studio. I'd love to have you come over."
"Since you teach, it will have to be a weekend. I don't imagine you'll want me to see your things under artificial light."
"Well, I do have a skylight in the studio, and they do look best under natural light."
We got back to what we needed to talk about, but as he left, he repeated that he'd like me to come over some day to see his miniatures. I said I'd like to do that.
When he was gone I really had the urge to go to the john and jack off. Even though I was sure he was straight, or perhaps because I was sure he was straight, he turned me on terribly. Unable to concentrate and feeling like a horny teen, I decided to go home. It was 4:30, only a half hour before my usual quitting time.
I stood, painfully. My hard tool was showing clearly in my khakis, and I could feel that my boxers were damp. I leaned around the corner of the door to Jean's office and asked if she'd have Jerome close up. She winked at me and said she'd see to it. Somehow, I think she must have guessed why I wasn't showing all of myself to her.
By the time I had driven home, my erection had subsided a little, but I was still desperately horny. I went to my room, took off all my clothes, lay back on the bed, and began to rub my resurrected cock. As I did so, I first had images of Stuart in mind, but as I continued the visions of a naked Stuart were interspersed with those of Jerome. I'd never seen either of them naked, of course, but I had fantasized. So I gave myself over to the only sexual pleasure I'd had since my memorable evening with Louis. Just as I felt the telltale signals from my balls that I was about to explode, a new image came into my mind's eye. There, smiling at me, holding his hard dick in one hand and fondling his nipple with another, was Chave MacPherson.
As I stood in the bathroom cleaning the spunk off my body, I wondered `Where did that come from? You don't even like MacPherson.'
`Damn,' I thought. `Pell, you've got to get a grip. Better still, get yourself a guy. But who?'
Thanksgiving came and went. I was able to be with Judd a lot over the holiday, which began at noon on Wednesday and ended when school started again Monday morning. We each had to have Thanksgiving dinner with our families, but except for that we were pretty inseparable. We spent lots of time in his room or mine, we braved all the holiday shoppers to go to the mall, and we went to the movies twice.
After Judd had more or less told off the Albright cousins, I didn't worry quite so much about touching him when I didn't think anyone was looking. One night he had put his hand on my butt as we went upstairs to my room, and I sort of took that as a clue that it was okay for me to touch him.
I may have gone too far, `cause sometimes he blushed or slapped my hand away, but I think he liked it. In restaurants I'd occasionally rub his leg with my foot. One day when we were in a booth I kicked my shoe off and put my foot in his crotch. He jumped so bad he almost knocked our cokes over.
In the movies we often sat in the back so we could rub each other's crotches as we ate. When we left one day he had a greasy spot on his bulge. I guess I'd been eating popcorn with the same hand I'd used to play with his package. He made me walk in front of him until we got to the car.
The closest we came to getting caught well the day we did get caught was one day when we were in the library at Sunrise. We were sitting as far from the door as we could get, side by side at the long table that runs down the middle of the room. I began to run my hand up and down his thigh. When he did the same to me, I escalated things a little by finding and rubbing his dick. He reciprocated. Soon, I had a mess of precum in my boxers, and I think he must have, too.
That's when I looked up and saw Whitney and Stuart Blount coming into the room. I started to jump up, but that was stupid because my boner was showing through my jeans. Judd had presence of mind enough to pull me back down, but I'm sure the two men knew what we were doing.
They said something pleasant and went on back toward Whitney's office.
"Oh my God," Judd said, laughing and leaning back in his chair. "That was close."
"What do you mean, close? They caught us, dude."
"No doubt. Well, they didn't see your stiffie, but they got a good look at mine. They must have known what we were doing."
"Yeah. Guess I've got to be more careful around you. You're gonna get me in trouble one of these days." He grinned at me to show he was teasing. "Seriously though, we are going to have to watch it with the touchy-feely stuff. Dr. Pell and Mr. Blount are pretty cool guys, but we don't want the rest of Stafford knowing for sure about us."
"I know, babe, I know. But it's so hard to keep my hands off of you."
"No pun intended, of course."
He looked so cute sitting there. He hadn't gotten a haircut since soccer season ended. He said he was tired of the buzz cut and he wanted to wear his hair a little longer. It was at a kind of shaggy stage right then, but I could tell it was going to be wavy as it grew out. He was so gorgeous and he had such a beautiful smile. How was I gonna keep my hands off him?"
"No, no pun intended. But I can't wait to get you someplace where I can have my way with your hot bod. Let's get out of here."
I didn't know the volunteer at the reception desk, but she smiled and said "Goodbye, boys. Y'all come back."
At my age, I couldn't help wondering occasionally how much time I had left. Doug and Stan had reminded me of that when they urged me not to waste time if I was serious about Frank. But that was exactly the problem. I knew I hated living alone. I knew I liked Frank. I knew he liked me. But did I love him enough to make a commitment to him?
There was the likelihood that, if we became a couple, one of us would have to nurse the other through a terminal disease. We were both in good health, but I was a few years older than he was. Perhaps I should not pursue our relationship so that he wouldn't be stuck with taking care of me if I had some sort of lingering illness.
I called him when I got home from the Charlotte airport, as I had promised I would. He seemed happy that I was back.
"Jon, I've really missed you. I'd like to invite you here for supper tomorrow night, but I have a teachers' meeting after school. Would you meet me at Sebastian's about 6:00, my treat, so we can celebrate your return and you can tell me all about your trip?"
"Frank, I'm going to shop for groceries first thing tomorrow. Why don't you let me fix something for us at my place?"
"No, I want this to be my party. I've missed you so much!"
I laughed. "Well, I've missed you, too. If you're sure, I'd love to have dinner with you. And it's been a while since I've been to Sebastian's, so that will be especially nice."
Sebastian's was perhaps second only to Raintree as a place for a nice dinner in Stafford. The food and service were all one could wish. I had a wonderful time with Frank. He wanted to know all about my trip, and I gave him a detailed account of what had happened, leaving out only the part where Doug had urged me to grab Frank while I still could.
I invited him back to my place, but he said he had to grade papers before the next day. We planned to get together on the weekend, which we managed to do. He spent most of the day with me that Saturday. One of the things we discussed was the soccer match where Stafford had lost, largely because Judd Thomas hadn't scored. We both thought something strange had happened there, but we hadn't any idea what was going on that evening. We both suspected Louis would know, but neither of us could think of a way to ask him without seeming downright nosy. Which I suppose we were.
Since neither of us had anywhere to go for Thanksgiving we decided to have dinner together. I offered my place, and he accepted. I said I'd roast the turkey and make the stuffing and mashed potatoes. I also said I'd do a pumpkin pie, though it would probably be Marie Callender's or Mrs. Smith's. He said he'd bring the cranberries and a couple of side dishes.
Early in the week before Thanksgiving, it occurred to me that Whitney might be alone on the holiday. I called Frank on Monday evening and asked if he'd mind if I invited Whitney to join us. He said he'd be delighted. Both of us enjoyed being alone together, but the thought that Whitney might have nowhere to go was enough to make me ashamed of my feelings and invite him.
I made a point of stopping by his office on Tuesday morning.
"Hi, Jon, what brings you here on a Tuesday? You've got Thursday off this week. I'd have thought you'd stay away."
I chuckled. "It's no busman's holiday, Whitney. Actually, I wanted to invite you for Thanksgiving dinner if you don't have another invitation. Frank and I are fixing a meal, and I'm sure there'd be plenty for you to join us. Frank says to tell you he hopes you'll come."
He got up from behind his desk, came around it, and hugged me.
"That's sweet, Jon. Please give my thanks to Frank, too. But I do have an invitation. I'm having dinner with Jerome and his mother." He chuckled. "I offered to help with the cooking, but Jerome said his mother insisted that she was going to do the whole thing, and she didn't want any men interfering, and she certainly didn't want to let his boss do any of the cooking."
I laughed. "I'm glad you won't be alone, my friend. Frank and I would have enjoyed your company, but you'll have a great time and be well fed, no doubt. Jerome, huh?"
He grinned. "Yeah. Whatever his mother's cooking is like, the eye candy will be great."
"That's true, for sure."
I was up early on Thanksgiving so I could bake the pie and get it out of the oven in time to put the turkey in. Then I set the dining room table for two. Without its leaves it seated six, which put the people who sat at either end some distance from each other. I decided to set a place on each side, so we were facing each other across the width rather than the length of the table. I had inherited Spode and Waterford from my parents, and I decided to use them. They all had to be washed, of course, since I hadn't used either the china or the crystal since I'd moved back to Stafford. I also discovered I needed to polish the sterling.
Everything was ready when Frank arrived except that I hadn't mashed the potatoes. He had a small picnic basket in one hand and a large bouquet of yellow roses in the other. I was so touched tears came to my eyes.
"Flowers for me? That's the first time since, uh, well, Frank that's very sweet. Come on in and let me get them in water."
As I found a vase, Frank took two casserole dishes from his basket and put them in the oven to keep warm. After putting the roses on the dining table but to one side so they wouldn't keep us from seeing each other I opened a bottle of chardonnay and poured us each a glass.
"Happy Thanksgiving, my friend, I'm glad you're sharing it with me. And thanks for the beautiful roses."
"Jon, I hope you won't mind if I say I hope this is the first of many Thanksgivings we spend together."
That took me aback. I wasn't sure just what to say to him. "I would like to think that we'll be friends for a long, long time, Frank."
Dinner was great fun. He'd brought asparagus, which only needed to be put in the microwave for a few minutes, and scalloped tomatoes, both of which went well with the things I'd prepared. After we'd finished he helped me put away the leftovers. I put a lot of the turkey in a Tupperware container for him to take home.
We took our coffee and pie into the living room and turned on the TV. I'm not sure what football game was on because we more or less ignored it as we talked about what we'd done that week, the approaching holiday season, the novel the book group was currently reading.
He asked me why Whitney hadn't joined us, and I explained that he had been invited to have Thanksgiving dinner with Jerome and his mother.
"Jerome, he's that gorgeous custodian at Sunrise, isn't he?"
"I've seen him a couple of times. He's certainly good to look at. But I'm surprised he'd invite his boss for the holiday dinner."
"He and Whitney have lunch together occasionally. I'm sure Whitney enjoys the eye candy, but Jerome's a pretty sharp guy. He's been in the Air Force and he's got a degree from the local community college. I suspect this job at Sunrise is only a temporary thing. I believe he told me he wants to go back to college."
"So the director isn't just trying to get into the custodian's pants?"
"Honestly, I have no idea. Whitney told me he had just come out of a long relationship before he moved here. He hasn't really dated anyone since he arrived in town. I don't know whether he's looking around or not. But he's a cute little hunk, and it seems a shame he doesn't have anybody. If he's interested in Jerome, more power to him, I say."
"Wouldn't it be pretty awkward if the director and the janitor became a couple?"
I took a minute to think about that. "Yes, I suspect it would. I can just hear some of the Board members clucking about that. But we're really theorizing way ahead of our facts, you know, Mr. Cummings."
He chuckled. "Yeah, we're just being a couple of gossipy old queens, aren't we?"
"Wash you mouth out with soap! Queens indeed!" I laughed.
Frank got up from the wingback he'd been sitting in and sat next to me on the sofa. I thought perhaps he was interested in a kiss and some cuddling, but he stayed at the opposite end of the sofa from me.
"Jon, there's another couple I want to talk about."
"Yep. Have you been thinking about our agreement?"
He meant, of course, the agreement I'd asked for. The one that said we weren't going to have sex until we were both ready to become a more or less committed couple. And we'd given ourselves until Christmas to decide.
"I think about it almost constantly, Frank."
"Wanna share your thoughts?"
"Maybe. Wanna persuade me?" I held my arms out.
He scooted across the sofa and put his arms around me. We kissed with the passion of a couple of teens but with an expertise based on many years of practice. Both of us were breathing heavily when we quit. I had an erection that reminded me of earlier years, and Frank was tenting his khakis pretty nicely, too.
"Wow!" he said.
"Yeah, wow! I hope that shows you that I think you're very sexy."
"I think I knew that. But that's not really the question is it?"
"Frank, I love you. I haven't felt this way about anyone for a long time."
"But. . . ?"
"Believe me, I've been thinking a lot about us. When I was in Florida recently I saw how happy Doug and his partner are, and I wanted that sort of loving relationship desperately."
"But . . . ?"
"But I keep asking myself questions."
"Look, you're fun to be with. Interesting to talk to. We have a lot of interests in common. And you look great. For an old fart, that is."
He laughed at that.
"You still haven't told me what the questions are that you're asking yourself. But I'll bet I know. It's Will, isn't it?"
"No, it's not that. I know Will would approve of my having a mate. I think he'd have loved you."
"Then what is it, Jon?"
"It's partly this awful fear of committing to you and then losing you. I don't know whether I could go through that again."
"Well, and partly the thought that if we become a couple, you'd wind up having to take care of me when I couldn't take care of myself. At our age, we have to think of such things, you know."
He took a deep breath and expelled it. "I don't think we should worry about what might happen. We're both healthy. We've probably got twenty years or more ahead of us. If you are so afraid of seeing me through a final illness, then I guess there isn't as much love there as I'd hoped. If you're worried about my having to do it for you, forget it. I'd never want you to be alone and sick or disabled if I were able to be there to help you."
I took his hand. "Oh, Frank, please don't think I've had any problems thinking about taking care of you. It's just that the thought of losing you seems so painful . . . ."
He smiled and squeezed my hand. "Don't think about losing me. Think about having me."
I smiled back. "You're a real smooth talker, Mr. English Teacher. Thinking about having you has caused me to make a bit of a sticky mess in my pants."
"I'm available for having, and I think we can take care of the problem in your pants."
I grinned at him, stood, and led him upstairs to my bedroom, where he took care of my problem and then I took care of his. After that we took a nap in each other's arms.
When we awoke, he said, "You know, I thought after we got up from the table I wouldn't be able to eat again today. But I could do with a little more turkey, stuffing, and gravy. Some of the cranberries might be good, too."
"I'd like to warm up some of your scalloped tomatoes. Let's head for the kitchen."
After we'd had a second go at all the Thanksgiving goodies, he helped me get the kitchen cleaned up. Since he had to grade papers most of the weekend, we agreed we'd get together Saturday night at his house for soup and sandwiches or something light. I offered to bring turkey soup, but he laughingly declined.
On Friday I decided to brave the traditional day-after-Thanksgiving shopping madness and go out. Since I visited a jeweler downtown, I didn't have to fight such large mobs as if I'd gone to the mall.
I got five invitations for Thanksgiving. Jean told me her son would be home from Georgia Tech and her daughter and family (with two adorable grandkids whose pictures adorned the filing cabinet in her office) would be there, and I was welcome to join them.
Jonathan invited me to have dinner with him and Frank Howard. Stu Blount called and invited me to go somewhere for dinner with him. And Chave MacPherson offered to cook dinner for me. I was impressed with that invitation because I hadn't known that Chave liked to cook. Somehow he didn't seem like the type.
I accepted the first invitation I got, however, which was from Jerome. He said he and his mother would be having dinner together, and she'd told him to ask me to be with them. I tried to refuse, saying that I didn't want to horn in on a family occasion. Jerome said I wouldn't be intruding and that both he and his mother would like for me to be there.
I had been enjoying the lunches Jerome and I had every few weeks, so I told him I'd like to come. I asked what I could bring.
"Just yourself. Mom says she's been doing big holiday dinners forever, so she'll have everything under control."
I asked what to wear, and he said for an occasion like that, she'd expect jackets and ties.
I worried about what to take. I didn't know whether she drank or served wine, and Jerome always ordered iced tea when we had lunch together. So, I got flowers. Or, rather, I ordered a big bouquet of rust-colored mums to be delivered the evening before.
It turned out to be a very pleasant experience. Mrs. Huggins was a beautiful, beautifully- dressed woman. (She'd put the mums on the sideboard in the dining room, and she thanked me profusely for them.)
Dinner had all the usual food plus the best collard greens I'd had since my grandmother Harrison used to make them. She had sweet potato pie, coconut cake, and ambrosia for dessert. I had to have some of each, and I think that pleased her. After dinner Jerome and I took off our jackets, loosened our ties, put away the food, and cleaned up the kitchen.
Mrs. Huggins excused herself to take a tray of food to a shut-in neighbor, so Jerome and I were able to sit, have a second cup of coffee, and just talk.
After we'd talked about some things coming up at Sunrise, he changed the subject.
"Whitney, do you know about the book discussion group at your church?"
I thought there might be more than one, but I knew there was one attended mostly by gay men, for Jonathan had told me about it. That's where he met Frank Howard. But Jerome had never told me he was gay, so I wasn't quite sure how to answer.
"You mean the one Jon Baker goes to?"
"Uh huh. That one."
"I only know that Jon goes and says he's enjoying it."
"Have you met Father Gary, the assistant minister there?"
"Yeah." I was wondering where this was going.
"Well, I see Gary regularly at the Downtown Youth Center. We were talking last Saturday afternoon, and he invited me to start coming. I think I'd like to do that."
"Uh, Jerome, you do know there are a lot of gay guys in that group, don't you?"
He grinned. "Well, yes."
"So are you going to go?"
"I'd like to. But it would mean coming out to the community. Some people know I'm gay, but if I started attending that group, everyone would know or at least suspect."
"Are you ready for that?"
"Yeah, I think so. I'm sick of pussyfooting around. Besides, if I'm seen much more with you, people are gonna draw their own conclusions."
"Damn, Jerome, it never occurred to me that our lunches together would affect your reputation in Stafford."
"Well, they shouldn't. But I've gotten some pointed questions from some of my `friends.'"
"Everybody knows I'm gay, so they assume if you're having lunch with me you're gay."
"Exactly. I'm afraid I told a couple of them I was having lunch with you because you're my boss. But I'm ashamed that I did that."
"No need. And if you don't want us to have lunch any more, I'll understand."
"No, you don't understand. I'm not gonna hide who I am any more. I want us to go on having our lunches. It's awkward saying this because you are my boss, but I like you. I think we could become friends. So I thought starting to go to the book group at Holy Trinity would be a way of putting my toe in the water. Let word get around gradually." He paused. "Besides, they're about to read and discuss "Native Son," and I'd like to reread that and sit in on the discussions."
"That's an old novel."
"Yeah, but I'll bet a lot of white guys in Stafford have never read it. And since Baldwin was both Black and gay, I'd really enjoy being involved."
"You know, Jerome, Jon and Gary have both asked me to come. Would it bother you if I joined the group, too?"
"Not at all. In fact, I was hoping you would."
I really loved Louis, but he nearly drove me crazy sometimes. He wouldn't keep his hands off me. Don't get me wrong, I loved it when he touched me, and Mr. Happy really got delirious whenever he did. When we were in either of our cars, he always had his hand on my thigh or was rubbing my dick. When we were walking along a sidewalk, or in the hallways at school, or at the mall, he'd often put his hand on my butt and rub his finger in my crack if he thought no one was looking. He kept me so hard it was all I could do not to jump his bones on the spot.
He knew how sensitive my nipples were. When we were alone and naked, he'd suck and nibble on them, and that sent me into orbit. But the pesky bastard liked to tweak them when we were in public, like walking down the sidewalk. Of course, whenever he did, I got hard (if I wasn't already) and began to make a mess in my boxers.
You'd think after what happened in the library at Sunrise that afternoon we'd have learned our lesson, but he just kept feeling me up and I just kept letting him. I'd even cop a feel of my own once in a while, though I was a lot more careful about where I'd do it. Where we were, that is, not where on his bod I'd grab him.
One day at lunch he suggested I meet him at Sunrise after school.
"Don't you think we should avoid the library for a while?"
He grinned and licked his lips. "We aren't goin' to the library, stud. Just meet me in the parking lot."
When I pulled in, his black convertible was already there. He jumped out when he saw me. "Come on," he said and headed toward the Music Hall.
"Louis, what you got in mind, babe?"
"Never mind. Just come with me. We went into the building through a side door. The second floor of a part of the building had music classrooms, and I could hear someone playing a violin. Louis led me down a darkened hallway and opened a door. He reached inside and flipped on the lights. Although I'd never been there before, I recognized it as the place where performers waited before they went onstage. There was a counter down one side with a mirror over it and a row of stools in front of it. There were bare light bulbs all along above the mirror. There was an open door at the back and I could see toilet stalls through it.
Louis then pulled me through another door into a larger room that looked like a lounge. There was even a long sofa.
"Welcome to the Green Room," he said, with a very sexy look on his face. "Are you ready to perform, Maestro Thomas?"
"Louis, we can't do anything in here! What if someone comes in?"
"Don't worry about it. I locked the door behind us. And no one ever comes in here except when there are performances anyway. So, let's get nekkid!"
He didn't waste any time getting out of his clothes. Ignoring my qualms, I soon had my clothes off, too, and we stood facing each other wearing only our sneaks and socks, both of our cocks pointing up.
Louis and I hadn't gotten into the anal thing. Neither of us seemed to want to go there yet. One of our favorite things, as good as 69ing, was what he told me was called frottage. Soon I was lying on the sofa with Louis on top of me. We were deep kissing as he humped my belly. Our hard dicks were trapped between us and lubricating themselves, each other, and our lower bodies. God, that was so hot! I couldn't imagine anything better than that. Our tongues were in each other's mouths and our dicks were rubbing against each other. What could be better? Except coming. Which is what he did. Feeling his hot jizz shooting onto our bodies triggered my own explosion, and I added my stuff to his.
At the moment I had my climax, a deep voice said, "I think you gentlemen are trespassing."
At first I was too much into how good I felt for that to register, but my bliss quickly turned into shock. I opened my eyes to see Jerome standing in the doorway! `Oh, shit!' I said to myself. `We're busted for sure!'
Louis didn't make a move to get up. Considering how much cum there was on both our bodies, I was glad he didn't.
"Hey, brotha, want to join us?" he asked, turning his head and grinning.
"Don't give me that `brotha' shit, Louis. Besides, it looks like I'm too late for this party."
"Dunno, Big J. We might be able to get you into the party mood."
I was practically dying from embarrassment. But Jerome laughed.
"Louis, you're too much, man. But you two shouldn't be in here. And you sure as shit shouldn't be in here fucking around."
"Well, technically, we weren't fucking."
I was still lying there with Louis on top of me, the cum between us turning cold, my cock shriveled into nothingness, and wishing I could sink through the floor.
"Okay, okay. Get some paper towels in the dressing room and clean yourselves up. Then get your funky asses out of here. And don't ever do this again, hear? What if it had been Miss Jean or Lakeesha who walked in on you?"
"Oh, fuck," Louis said. "I knew you and Whitney had keys. I never thought about the women."
"Maybe you're doing too much thinking with the wrong head, boy," Jerome said, chuckling. "Now, you two git, before I change my mind and tell Whitney what you've been up to."
After he had gone, Louis giggled, got up, and went to get paper towels. He dampened some of them and brought them back to where I was sitting on the edge of the sofa.
After we'd cleaned ourselves up and had gotten dressed again, I said, "Louis, I just thought of something. Jerome was a little upset because we were in here doing that. But he didn't seem to mind that we were doing what we were."
"Okay, let me try again. He didn't like us doing it in here, but he didn't seem to care that we were having gay sex."
"Well, he wouldn't, would he?"
`What do you mean?"
"Man, don't you have any gaydar at all?"
"You mean Jerome's gay?"
"Is it the earrings?"
"Naw, man, lots of straight guys wear earrings."
"Well then, what?"
"Nothing in particular. I have just always assumed he was gay, sort of like I sensed it."
"So you think he meant it when he said he wouldn't tell Whitney?"
"Yeah. Jerome's a good guy. He said he wouldn't tell, so he won't."
"Louis, we've got to be more careful. One of these day's we're really gonna be in deep shit if we don't. I mean it, man. You're gonna give me a heart attack."
"Yeah, right. You're eighteen and in perfect physical condition. Which is why I can't keep my hands off of you, by the way. I'm not worried about your heart giving out anyways near soon. But I'll try to behave myself. I guess it would have been pretty embarrassing if Miss Jean had walked in on us."
"No shit, Sherlock!"
To be continued.