Places: Starkville
By John Yager

This is one more in the series of short vignettes collectively titled Places.

Andrew, as always, thank you for much needed help with proofing and editing and for your mastery of the Queen's English.

This work is copyright © by the author, 2003, 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.

It had been a long day and I was glad I had nothing planned for the evening. On my way into town that afternoon, I'd checked in to a new motel on Highway 12, just south of Highway 82. It was good to know I had a cozy room to head for. The sky looked gray and damp. It would be a good evening to get in bed with a new book, not realizing my plans would abruptly change.

Leaving my last appointment, I looked at my watch and saw it was only five-thirty, too early for a real meal, but remembering the new deli I'd seen a few blocks south of the motel, decided I'd stop there for a sandwich and a cup of coffee and then just tuck in for the night.

With my order in hand, I found a place on a settee running along one wall. I propped up the book I'd bought the night before so I could read while I ate, and dove into the newest adventure published by a man who'd recently become one of my favorite authors of light novels.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw that a few places to my left a young man, probably a student at Mississippi State was doing much the same thing.

"Hey, is that the new Dan White book?" he asked a few seconds later.

"Yes," I said, turning the book toward him so he could see the vivid cover illustration.

"Cool," he said, "I read a couple of reviews but didn't know it was out yet."

"I think it was just released this week," I said, closing the book and taking a sip of coffee. I could read later, I reasoned, and it was pleasant to chat for a while with a great looking young man.

"Have you read Seraphim?" he asked, referring to one of White's earlier books.

"Yes," I said, turning a little to get a better look at him. I guessed he was in his early twenties and very cute. The book he'd been reading was a thermo dynamics text, thick, heavy and imposing. He had light brown hair which was a little ragged and in need of a barber. His face was long with an aquiline nose and a slightly pointed chin . . . a good looking kid, I thought to myself, lean, his body probably in good shape under the baggy jeans and loose sweat shirt.

"What did you think of the religious aspects of the story?" he ventured, still referring to Seraphim. As I continued to watch him, he took a bite from his sandwich.

"Oh, a little odd," I said, "a little too `New Age' for me, but interesting."

"Are you religious?"

"Yeah," I said, thinking it was a somewhat forward question from a young man I'd not even properly met. "I guess so."

"My name's Kevin," he said, almost as if he'd read my thoughts. He turned a little toward me and extended his hand, reaching across the space between us.

"John," I said.

"So do you go to church, John?"

"Yes," I said, still thinking it was a rather personal line of inquiry. Maybe he's a Jehovah's Witness or a Mormon, I thought, steering the conversation toward some sort of pitch. But in his casual dress, he didn't look the part.

"Do you mind if I ask which denomination?"

"Episcopal," I said. "I go to an Episcopal church."

"Cool," he immediately responded. "I have an aunt who is an Episcopalian." I was pleased he had the adjective and adverb forms straight. "Man, can you believe they finally chose a gay man to be a bishop? It almost makes me want to go join up."

"Well, hey," I chuckled, "the more the merrier."

"Yeah, at least it lets a lot of people who've felt excluded think maybe there is a community were they can belong, a community that really practices love and acceptance."

As he spoke a young couple came toward us, looking for a place to set. It was then a little after six o'clock and the place was beginning to fill up.

"Here," Kevin said, beckoning to them. "You can have this table."

With that he stood up and began to move to his right, to the table just next to me.

"Thanks, man," the guy said as his girlfriend slid into the settee and the newcomer took the chair facing her.

Kevin settled back down next to me and took another bite of his sandwich.

"Are you gay, Kevin?" I asked, my voice carefully modulated so as not to carry beyond his ears. I'd not had the nerve to ask if he hadn't been so forward.

"Yeah," he said, his own voice equally low. "Well, I guess I should say I'm still trying to figure it out."

"Me too," I laughed softly. "And I've got a few years on you."

"The answers aren't simple, are they?"

"No," I agreed. "And the older I get the more complex they seem."

We talked a bit more about religion and churches, the more open ones and those who threw up walls of prejudice and misunder-standing. We exchanged views on sexual orientation and what lay behind it, upbringing, experience, genetics, or a mixture of all those factors and more.

When two older women came in our direction Kevin looked over at me. It was a little awkward carrying on this sidewise conversation.

"It's getting busy here," he said. "Mind if I just move over to your table?"

"No, I think it's a good idea before one of us gets a stiff neck."

He moved his book and sandwich and drink to the opposite side of my table and motioned to the little table he'd just left. "Ladies, this table is free if you want it," he said to the closest of the two women.

"Oh, thank you, young man," the lady said, putting her things down on the table. One of the pair slid onto the settee against the wall, settling in with just a foot or so between my left leg and her right.

Kevin helped the other woman with the chair. She thanked him again, and lapsed into a conversation with her table mate about some upcoming luncheon and bridge party.

Kevin sat down facing me and smiled. He toyed with his sandwich and looked ill at ease.

"I guess we'd better save the rest of the conversation for another time," he smiled.

"Probably," I said, finishing my coffee. "I'd probably better go anyway."

"I wish we could continue talking."

"Yes, it's been interesting."

"John, I don't mean to be pushy, but do you live near here?"

"No, actually," I said, wondering were this was going. "I'm from out of town, just here on business."

"I wish I could ask you back to my room but I have a roommate and he's not what you`d call a free thinker."

"Would you like to come back to my room?" I asked, wondering as soon as I'd said it if I'd made a blunder. "I'm staying at that new motel over on Highway 12, just south of Highway 82."

"I know the one," he said. "Would you mind?"

"No, I wouldn't have asked if I minded."

In the parking lot I pointed out my car and he pointed out his little Japanese pick-up. It was dark blue. The night had gotten cold and it had been raining.

"I'll try to follow," he said.

"If we get separated, just come on up. I'm in room 315."

Ten minutes later we were standing awkwardly at the door to my room.

I felt a little like a kid coming home with a puppy and saying to his mother, "gee, mom, he followed me home. Can't I keep him?"

There a king sized bed. Apart from the bed, which stood like some huge specter in the middle of the room, there was one upholstered chair which looked fairly comfortable and one wooden chair, which looked straight and hard and was clearly meant to be used at the small desk which stood against the wall to the right of an imposing TV cabinet.

"I don't have anything to offer you," I said, "but I think there's a coke machine and an ice dispenser by the elevator."

"I don't need anything, John, really," the kid said. "I'm just glad to have a chance to continue our conversation."

"Well, have at it, then," I said, gesturing toward the larger chair.

"No, really, you set there. I'll be fine in the desk chair."

"Okay, if you're sure," I said, and kicked off my shoes.

We talked for nearly an hour, or rather Kevin talked and I listened, making occasional comments or asking an occasional questions. He seemed to need to talk and much of what he said had to do with the history of his brief life.

Kevin was twenty-three, he told me, although I thought he looked more like eighteen. He was in his fifth year at the university and expected to be completing an engineering degree in the spring.

He'd dropped out of school for over a year after his sophomore year, taking a summer job with an engineering firm in Jackson and staying on for eighteen months instead of the expected three.

He told me that his mother and younger sister lived in Jackson, as did all four of his grandparents. His parents had been divorced when Kevin was thirteen and his father had moved to the west coast.

"I had a girlfriend in high school," he continued. "We had sex twice but she was really afraid of getting pregnant and I didn't really get into it all that much anyway."

"From what you said a the deli, I figured you'd also had sex with at least one guy," I said.

"Four, actually. The first guy picked me up at a park and gave me a blow job. That was the summer between my freshman and sophomore year."

"What about the others?"

"Well, the year I was home something got started between me and a guy at the engineering firm. He was older, thirty-two."

"What happened."

"Well, you know, we'd go to his apartment and hang out. He lived alone and the apartment complex were he lived had a swimming pool. The first time I went there we ended up in bed. He sucked my cock and I sucked his. It was the first time I'd ever done that."

"Were you and he only into oral stuff."

"No, it wasn't long before he wanted to fuck me. I liked it a lot but he wanted me to fuck him, too but I couldn't get into it."

"How long did it last?"

"About six months, actually. Then he got a job in Denver and moved out there. That was the end of it.

"And the other two?"

"Oh, just one night stands; guys I met in a gay bar in Memphis. One of them just wanted to beat off and the other guy fucked me."

"You like being fucked?"

"Yeah, I love it, especially if the other guy is really into a lot of kissing and romantic stuff first."

"But you don't like fucking another guy?"

"No, I guess I'm just a natural bottom. When I tried to fuck Jason, the guy in Jackson, I kept loosing my erection. I never did get my cock in his ass."

We continued talking, about his classes and his hopes for the future. He wanted to finish his degree and go out to California for a while. His dad and his step mother had said he could come stay with them for a while if he wanted to look for a job in the LA area, but he really was hoping to find something in the San Francisco Bay area.

"It's tough being at a school like this, especially in the engineering program."

"Not too Fay Griendly?" I teased.

"You got to be kidding, John," he smiled, looking down at his feet with a sort of hang-dog expression. "I think every person in the engineering school is homophobic, the professors and the students alike."

"I guess engineering is a sort of butch field."

"Yeah, probably. If there are any other gay guys around I sure don't know it. But I sort of keep my head down and I guess if there are any other gay men in the school, they do the same thing."

We sat for a while in silence and then Kevin said, "I guess I should go."

I didn't respond and was unsure whether I wanted him to go or stay.

"What would you be doing if I wasn't here," he asked.

"Oh, I'd just strip off and get in bed, read a while, maybe watch some TV."

After another long pause, he said, "could we do that?"

"Get in bed?"


I stood up and went over to him. "I get the feeling you don't want to go back to your dorm," I said, teasing his soft hair.

"It's a real drag," he sighed. When he looked up at me I almost thought he was going to cry.

"Come on," I said. I went over to the bed and pulled back the covers.

He stood across from me for a moment and then asked, "are you going to get undressed?"

"Yeah," I said as I carried my shoes over to the little stand were I'd put my bag. I put my shoes under the stand, pulled off my socks and then my slacks. I laid my slacks over my bag and then unbuttoned my shirt and took it off, laying it on top of my slacks. Wearing only my boxer shorts, I turned back to find Kevin just standing there staring at me.

I just went over and got in bed.

He stood perfectly still for a moment longer and then turning toward the bathroom, said, "I'll be right back."

It was, in fact several minutes before he returned. He was wearing an old pair of boxer briefs which clung to his body and suggested by the pronounced bulge in the crotch that he was already partially hard. The briefs had probably been black when new, but had been through so many harsh washings that they were now a rather dull gray.

Kevin was slender. His muscles well defined but his body was not at all bulked up. It was the body of a healthy boy, rather than that of a man. His skin was light, but showed hints of a faded summer tan. He was completely smooth.

As he came back into the bedroom, he was carrying his clothes in a bundle, clutched against his chest. When he'd placed the pile on the wooden chair he came back around the bed and laid down.

I put aside my book and looked over at him. He smiled at me but said nothing.

"What now?" I asked.

He rolled onto his side facing me and placed one hand on my chest in a rather tentative manner. Looking up into my eyes, he whispered, "can you hold me a little?"

"Sure," I said, sliding down in the bed beside him. He moved willingly into my arms and we kissed, lightly at first but soon with greater and greater passion.

I rolled onto my back and pulled him over onto me. The weight and warmth of his body was wonderful. Our kisses became more passionate, more intrusive. Our hands were all over each other and we were both hard. I felt his cock thought the warn fabric of his shorts, stroked it a little and then shoved my hand behind the elastic waistband and grasped it.

Kevin rolled onto his back and lifted his hips a little so I could slide his briefs down and off. I leaned over his lovely cock and kissed its drooling head.

He moaned and I took his cock head into my mouth and ran my tongue over it. His moaning became more pronounced and his hips began to buck. I grasped the shaft of his cock with my right hand and placed my left hand in the center of his chest, holding him gently down.

Kevin was moaning constantly now and I suspected he was getting very close to coming. I moved my right hand from his shaft and began to gently squeeze his balls as I ran my tongue up and down along the back side of his cock.

He settled own a little and I let my right hand move back and down, exploring the soft skin behind his balls. He bent his legs at the knees, drawing them up, giving me freer access to the cleft of his ass. I brought my right hand to my mouth and quickly laved my fingers with saliva, then ran my wet finger tips up and down his crack. I located the puckered bud of his ass, and began to probe.

Kevin's moaning became louder. I wondered if there was anyone in the next room and how much they might hear. The thought left as quickly as it came when I rose up and let my eyes roam over his magnificent body.

I had two fingers in him by then and he seemed to be concentrating completely on his ass and the sensations which I was causing there.

He looked up at me, an angelic expression on his handsome face, and whispered, "will you fuck me, John?"

I left him briefly to retrieve lubricant and condoms from my bag, then back in bed, I slowly prepared him, working the cool, clear cream into his dilated ass.

It wasn't long before he whispered, "I'm ready."

I knelt between his widespread legs and placed his ankles on my shoulders. I ripped open a packet and rolled on a condom, then moved forward and positioned my cock against his waiting ass.

He was tight but willing and it wasn't long before I was fully in him. I waited, letting his ass adjust to my presence, and when he nodded his head, I began to thrust. As our passions built, my thrusts became harder and faster until I was driving into him with all my force.

Kevin came suddenly, without warning, shooting his white seed up over his belly and chest. The clinching of his sphincter sat me off.

His climax lasted longer than mine but when we had both settled down a little, I gently pulled out of him and leaned forward to give him one more gentle kiss. The remnants of his climax pressed between our chests, bonding us.

"That was wonderful," he whispered, and I agreed. He rolled onto his side and, as I got up, I pulled the sheet up over him.

I went off to the bathroom to clean up and by the time I came back, Kevin as asleep. With a damp cloth, I wiped the residue of our lovemaking from his chest and stomach, marveling again at the sheer beauty of his body. I laid down beside him and he cuddled against me and eventually, I also drifted off to sleep.

I woke at three-thirty and went off to the bathroom in desperate need of a piss. When I got back into bed, Kevin again rolled against me, but this time it was clear he was awake.

"Can we do it again?" he whispered.

"Oh, kiddo," I chuckled, "I'm not as young as you."

"I'll get you hard," he said, diving under the sheet and devouring my soft cock. It wasn't long before he had me fully erect. He tossed back the covers and rose up, giving me a triumphant smile.

"Oh, all right," I chucked, reaching over to the bed stand for a fresh condom and more lube.

The second time was slower and lasted for a very long time. Kevin seemed to love it that way and neither of us was in any hurry to reach our goal.

Eventually, though, even my mature body responded fully and I shot another smaller, but joyous load.

When I realized Kevin had not come, I knelt between his legs and sucked his cock until he cried out and shot his own hot load into my hungry mouth.

When I woke again it was just after seven and there was a gray light shining around the edges of the drapes. I heard the shower running and went off to join my young guest.

"Good morning, old man," he grinned when I stepped into the shower and took the soap from him. We washed each other and then, kneeling under the pulsing spray, Kevin again went down on my tired but willing cock. I assumed he would want me to fuck him again and I was looking forward to taking him there in the shower. But when I put my hands under his arms and tired to lift him up, he abandoned my cock just long enough to say, "no, I want to suck you off."

"You don't want me to fuck you again?"

"I'd love it, John, but my ass is too sore."

I leaned back against the tile wall as the water danced over us and he brought me to one more climax, taking my load and swallowing it.

I pulled him up and kissed him, tasting myself in his mouth.

"Can I do you?" I asked.

"No, I took care of myself before you got here."

I offered to take him to breakfast but he refused, saying he had to run to make his first class.

We exchanged e-mail addressed and agreed we both desperately wanted to get together again.

"I think I may be falling in love with you, John," he whispered as we kissed one more time before he left.

A second later, as I was walking back into the bathroom, there was a slight knock at my door. Looking through the little peekhole, I was Kevin smiling back at me. Still naked, I opened the door slightly and he said, "paper, mister?" handing me the complementry newspaper which he'd found on the floor outside my door.

I took it from him and, leaning in, he gave me one more quick kiss.

When I got home that night there was a message waiting for me in e-mail in-box. I told him about the stories I'd posted on NIFTY and he began to read them avidly. I pointed out the Places stories and teasingly suggested I write one about our night together.

To my surprise Kevin not only agreed, but begged me to do so as quickly as possible. "Just change the place and my name," he wrote, "and let me read what you write before you share it with anybody else."

I have complied.

We are planning another night together as soon as I can arrange another trip to Starkville.

In parting, all I can add is this:

"And here's to you, Bishop Robinson . . . Heaven holds a place for those who pray!"

The end.