Places: Macomb
By John Yager

This is one more in the series of short vignettes collectively titled Places. It was the most difficult of these stories to write, as you'll understand as you read it. It will also be the last of this series, at least for the foreseeable future.

Andrew, as always, thank you for much needed help with proofing and editing.

This work is copyright © by the author, 2004, and may not be reproduced in any form without specific written permission from 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.

"Fuck his ass, John," Steve growled as I plowed into the kid. His ass was slack, open and filled with come, not mine, I knew, but Steve's and Donny's and Dace's. I was fourth and last in line, having lost the draw.

"Fuck the little slut," Steve moaned, his voice slurred with booze and poppers. The boy obviously heard Steve, if he was sober enough to care, and it seemed harsh, unthinking.

Slut, I though as I pounded into the boy's gaping rear, an interesting word. What did it mean, whore, prostitute, I thought, but not quite accurate in this case as no money had changed hands.

Slut, a sexually depraved person, well, yes, but anymore him than us?

We were using the kid, but he was using us.

We were in town for a meet and our team had gotten trounced, not just beaten, but routed by a far superior squad. We were out of our element, out of our league, for sure.

Going to the bar had been an excuse to blow off steam, the four of us breaking all the training rules while our coach and the rest of the guys headed back to the motel. The kid had been there, eyeing us as we eyed uninterested chicks.

It was Donny, always the wild card, who'd finally said, "well, shit. I'm gona fuck. If there ain't willing females, I say let's grab that kid and ream his ass."

"Wanta party, kid," Steve called over to the boy, not waiting for consensus.

"What do you have in mind," the kid said, shyly approaching our booth.

"Well, you know . . ." Steve said, loosing his nerve when it came to actually spelling it out. "We'll take a bottle back to our motel and see what comes up."

Donny hooted.

"I guess so," the boy said, and we were off.

Boy, he was probably our age, but small, not effeminate, but somehow radiating gay.  We weren't gay, of course, we did it with chicks, we told our selves.

Back at the motel, in the room Steve and Dace were sharing, we drank a little more, the others beer, me coke.  Not knowing how to get things going, Donny just said it, "so you want to get fucked?"

After that we were all stripping, and the action began.

The kid was well built, not big, not bulked like Steve or Donny or Dace, or even me, but he was well defined and had a nice body. Five-six, five-seven, maybe, maybe one-forty, tops. He had sandy hair and a smooth body, and an okay cock, which stayed hard all night and shot off twice, once when Donny was fucking him and again when Dace was pounding his cute ass.

"Fuck the little whore," Steve moaned and then fell silent, stretched out beside the kid and me on the not so roomy bed. I realized Donny and Dace were sound asleep in the other bed, their naked bodies twisted together in a way which suggested everything they'd deny about their sexuality.

I'd had no alcohol, since I'd brought my own car to the meet and had been the logical designated driver. Truth be told, I didn't like the sensation of being drunk, and even when I was drinking, I definitely knew my limit. I couldn't tell if the kid were drunk or not but I knew Donny and Steve had both been sticking poppers under his nose.

I pulled out of the kid, unable to go on, my cock going soft in the boy's slimy ass.

"Did you come?" he whispered.

"No," I whispered back, "but it's okay."

He rose up and looked at me. "You're sure? If you want to go on, it's okay."

"No, really," I said, swinging over and off the bed. "Grab your clothes and come on."

I picked up my stuff as I made toward the connecting door, the door to the room Donny and I were supposed to be sharing. The kid followed my lead, gathering his shoes and socks, his rumpled gray slacks and shirt.

"You want to take a shower?" I asked, closing the door behind us.

The guys wouldn't wake up until at least mid-morning, I figured.

"Is it okay?" he whispered back.

"Go ahead."

The cheap motel digital clock said 2:22, glowing a dull red. I flopped naked on the bed and dozed.

"I'm finished," the kid said, coming back, sitting gently on the side of the bed, wearing only a pair of white jockeys. He looked cute, much more desirable than he had naked and used on the rumpled bed in then adjacent room.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

"Yes, a little sore, but I'm always fine by morning."

"Okay," I said, getting up and heading for the bathroom. I felt soiled and a shower was essential before I got under the covers.

"My name is Wayne," the boy said from the bathroom door as I stepped from the shower and dried myself.

"Hi, Wayne," I said, extending my right hand when I'd tucked the skimpy towel around my waist. "John."

"I know," he said, his voice still little more than a whisper.


"Yes," he said. "I heard your friends say your name."

"I don't think we need to whisper," I said, still standing by the shower, not wanting to squeeze by him.

"I guess the others are asleep," he said.

"More than asleep," I grinned. "They're out."

"Passed out?"

"Yeah," I said. "Booze and poppers. They'll probably sleep till noon."

"So are you going to bed now?" he asked, his voice no longer a whisper, but still very soft.

"Yeah, what about you?"

"Could I stay here?"


"Yes. I can sleep on the floor if you don't want to share the bed."

"You don't need to get home?"

"I can't get back in until after six-thirty."

"You don't have a key?" I said, wondering if it was his folks or a roommate who'd locked him out.

"The dorm is locked at midnight on Friday and Saturday nights," he said. "They close it at ten-thirty Sunday through Thursday."

"The university has dorm hours for guys?" I asked, totally astonished.  I'd heard of some conservative schools which still had dorm hours for women, but not for guys.

"I don't go to the university," he said. "I go to the Bible School in New Philadelphia," he said.

"You drove over here?"

"I hitched," he smiled. "We're not allowed to have cars until our senior year."

"Will you get in trouble for being out after hours?" I asked, still amazed that such restrictive places existed. He was still standing in the doorway so I sat down on the edge of the tub.

His body, backlit by the lamp in the bedroom, looked angelic, like the side panel of a medieval altar piece.

"No, I signed myself in and then snuck out," he said. "My roommate is gone for the weekend so no one will know if I show up in time for breakfast.

"You do this often?"

"Not often. I hate myself for weeks afterwards, but eventually it gets too much for me and I sneak off here or over to Peoria." He paused and then added, "at the beginning of the Christmas holidays I went into Chicago for three days before I headed home. I told my folks I was visiting friends."

"Gay bars?" I asked.

"Yes, in Chicago. There aren't any gay bars in Macomb or Peoria. Or if there are, I've not found them. I can usually find someone at a straight bar if I hang around a while."


"A guy. Guys."

"Like us tonight."

"Yes, jocks, mostly." He looked at me shyly. "You guys are jocks."

"Yeah, here for a swimming meet," I said.

"How did you do?"

"I came in second in one of my events but our team got trounced."

"So tonight was a way of relaxing."

"Yeah, I guess you could say that," I said, looking up at him with an embarrassed smile. "Do you always let guys do it bareback?"

"No, only if I really think they're safe."

"How can you tell?"

"Well, most college guys are okay, especially jocks. I also squeeze a lot of Nonoxynol-nine cream into my . . . you know, my rectum. Guys just think it's lubricant.

"It's still not safe, Wayne."

"You guys are all okay, right?"

"Yes, in fact the entire team was tested a few weeks ago."

"I was, too. I got tested in Peoria."

"Don't let guys fuck you without condoms, man."

"I know."


"I always promise myself."

"Well, just do it, Wayne. Always, from now on."

He nodded.

Then on a whim, I added, "let's go to bed."

"You're sure?"

"Yeah, it's fine," I said as he turned and went back into the bedroom. I followed him and between us, standing on opposite sides of the big bed, we turned back the covers.

The other room had two standard beds, this one, only one, but a king. We'd tossed for the rooms and Donny and I had lost, making the necessary jokes about staying on our own side.

Now it didn't matter.

"You going to sleep naked?" Wayne asked.

"Yeah, I usually do."

"Okay if I do too, then?" he asked softly.


"We're required to wear pajamas at school," he smiled.

"Somehow I'm not surprised," I grinned as I slid between the cool sheets. Wayne peeled off his jockey shorts and joined me, being careful to stay on his own side of the bed.

"You want to cuddle?" I asked.

"Is it okay?"

"Sure," I said, feeling suddenly protective.

He scooted over against me and I put my arm around him pulling him close. He snuggled against me, feeling for all the world like a warm puppy.

I soon felt his body relax and his breathing slow and I knew he was asleep.

It wasn't so easy for me. I lay there thinking about Wayne and about Donny and Dace and Steve, thinking about myself, and what we'd done, using the kid, being used by him.  Which of us were the sluts?

At some point I was vaguely aware of Wayne moving and getting out of bed. A few minutes, or an hour later, for all I knew, he was back, snuggling against me. I'd rolled onto my side and he spooned, pressing his cute ass against my crotch, then moving in a seductive way which quickly brought me to a full erection.

When it was obvious to him that I was hard, he reached back and guided my cock to his pucker.  I had some fleeting thoughts about safe sex and what I'd said to him earlier about not fucking without protection, but the thoughts were gone as quickly as they'd come.  We'd both been tested, I reminded myself and I'd had my cock in him earlier, to boot.  I guessed it didn't matter, of if it did, it was too late to worry about it.

I pressed forward and slid into his hot little body. His ass had clearly contracted over the last few hours and he was no longer loose. He was tight and tingling and I was soon thrusting forward with a gentle but steady rhythm.

It was okay, but I'd never liked fucking on my side all that well, so after a few minutes I pulled out and rolled him over on his back. He immediately spread his legs so I could kneel between them and then lifted his legs to my shoulders. The kid clearly knew the drill.

"You okay?" I asked as I slid into him.

"Yes," he moaned, "wonderful."

I fucked him slowly, gently, assuming that his ass was still tender from the pounding he'd taken the night before.

"Oh, yes, John," Wayne crooned. "Wonderful."

His own cock was hard, pulsing back against his tummy, and his eyes were fixed on mine.

"You're beautiful," I whispered, looking into his incredibly blue eyes.

"No I'm not," he whispered back. There was an audible catch in is voice.

"Yes, Wayne," I panted between strokes. He looked like a cherub.

"I'm a sinner and I'm going to hell," he groaned.

"Is that what they teach you at that Bible School?"

"It's true, John. It's what the Bible says. I know it but I can't stop myself."

"Hush," I said, not wanting the moment ruined. "We'll talk later."

"Oh," he gasped as the head of my cock nudged his prostate.

We concentrated on what we were doing, leaving the theology for another time.

I kept up a steady pace, taking long, easy strokes, working his magic button and watching his blue eyes as they sparkled with joy.

I felt my own body moving toward an amazing climax and felt Wayne going rigid below me.

"Yes, yes," he chanted, and then his cock erupted suddenly, sending volleys of his white seed up over his stomach and chest.

"Oh, John, yes . . ." he moaned as my own cock exploded in his hot ass.

We came down slowly. His breathing calmed. He reached out to me, pulling me down onto him, my chest pressing against his, grafted together by his drying come.

He locked his legs around me and nudged me down more firmly against him.

"I'm too heavy for you," I whispered, still supporting myself on my elbows.

"No, I want your weight on me," he whispered and I complied. He felt like a delicate bird beneath me but he clearly wanted the pressure of my body on his.

We lay like that for quite a while. I actually think I dozed, only to be wakened by my softening cock slipping out of him with a little gushing sound.

Wayne giggled.

"I guess I'd better get up and take another shower. I need to go," he whispered, kissing my ear.

"How far is it?"

"About twenty miles," he said. "I can usually get a ride with one of the milk trucks."

"I'll take you," I said, rolling off of him.

"What about the others?"

"I'll leave them a note, but chances are, they'll still be sleeping when I get back. The bedside clock said it was seven o'clock.

We showered together, washing each other. I kissed him for the first time and he resisted a little, then surrendered to me. I held him close, still feeling that sense of protectiveness and affection.

In the car, as we drove between vast newly plowed fields, I asked him again about his belief that he was somehow damned.

"I'm a bad person, John," he said. "I know if I die now I'll go to hell, but I just can't change, as much as I try, as much as I pray to be delivered from my unnatural desires."

"Did it ever occur to you that you might be just the way God made you, Wayne, just the way he wanted you?" I tried to reason.

"That can't be, John," he said. "He'd never make anyone to be like me."

"You're a beautiful man, Wayne," I said, wanting desperately to reassure him, to somehow lift that awful cloud of religiosity from his lovely soul.

"No, I'm not. Even if I'm physically attractive, my heart is black, as black as Satan, as black as the pit of hell."

When we reached the school he insisted on getting out at the edge of the squalid little campus, not wanting to be seen by any of his fellow students or teachers.

I wrote my address and phone number on a scrap of paper and gave it to him. "If you ever need to contact me, just write me, or call," I said.

"Thank you," he said softly, giving my hand one last gentle squeeze.

I never heard from Wayne again. I didn't really expect to.

The end.