Sorry It’s been a while since my last story. Collage finals came up. You all understand. . . and if you don’t, well, maybe you shouldn’t be reading this. ;-)
The following story is false. The names were not changed because they didn’t really exist. No one is innocent. If this story bears any resemblance to anyone, living or dead, it is purely coincidental and unintentional. If this story IS an accurate representation of you life, I greatly envy you. Good job. ;-) Note that although it is written in the first person, I am not really the narrator, as much as I would like to be.
Anyway, comments, send to ZB1000@adelphia.net Criticism will be appreciated. Flames will be ignored. Yada yada yada.
Don’t read this story if it is illegal to do so in your location. This depicts sexual situations and acts between 2 consenting teenage males and it may be inappropriate for some readers.
I wrote this story because I don’t see many like it around. This is my first erotic writing but not, by far, my first time writing anything. I fully intend “The Boyfriend Chronicles: All the Way >From Aaron to Zach” to be a series. Each story is self contained but all of the stories in the series will contain the same characters and exist in a linear time line in the same fictitious universe.
This story is a little shorter than the others and it doesn’t have any sex. I’m sorry, but some things just need to be said.
And now, without further adieu, I bring on the teenage homoeroticism.
[t/t, romance, no sex]
The Boyfriend Chronicles: All the Way From Aaron to Zach.
________________________Story 3: The Valentine Inamorato________________________
Chapter 1 Chapter 1 Chapter 1 Chapter 1 Chapter 1 Chapter 1 Chapter 1 Chapter 1 Chapter 1
That time of year was fast approaching. It was, in fact, just two days away. I had picked up his gift three weeks ago but suddenly, to my horror, he FUCKING BOUGHT ONE HIMSELF! I am talking about the PS2 I had got him for Valentine’s day. No, that wasn’t the entire gift. I’m not THAT unromantic. It was only half. The other half, which still worked at that point, was dinner and a movie. Most of you would think that that would be enough, but you would be wrong. I wanted to get him something special for all he did for me when I was sick in Scranton.
With the PS2 returned, I was in, what could only be describes as “The verge of hysteria” I had to find him another gift. He didn’t want any of the other game systems and buying him games just didn’t seem to work as well in my mind. I was so pathetically unprepared that I even went around to the various malls outside of town and I told the proprietors that I was helping my “sister” shop for her boyfriend because she was sick. Hey, I only half lied.
I considered buying him underwear but before I picked it up, I realized that a present for me wasn’t helping the matter. That’s where I saw the sign. Just outside the mall. There was a sign for a massage center. “Total relaxation techniques” and “Full sensual massage” or something like that was written there. “That would be perfect.” I thought to myself. “If I could get a reservation with only two days to spare.”
I actually drove out to the place after school the next day, about an hour away. I figured that it would be much more difficult to turn a sobbing gay teenager away in person than it would be over the phone. It was simply called the Massage Parlor. It was literally, in the middle of nowhere. I mean farm country; the cows outnumbered the people AND the chickens 10 to 1. And I saw a lot of chickens, which disturbed me for reasons I don’t quite understand.
I walked into the lobby and there was a man in his early thirties sitting at the desk typing into a computer. “Yes, can I help you?” he asked and I wasn’t sure if my mind was playing tricks on me, but I swore I heard a lisp.
“Yes.” I said. “Are there any open appointments for the 14th?” I asked humbly.
“Tomorrow?” he laughed (again, almost flamboyantly) “Oh, god no. not at this point.” he suddenly sharpened up remembering that I was a potential customer. “I’m sorry, but we are a small operation in the middle of nowhere. We only had 5 spots open. There’s not enough business around here to get more help. There’s only 2 massage artists and I’m one of them. Who’s it for, sweety, your girlfriend?”
“Boyfriend.” I corrected before I even knew what was coming out of my mouth. I was about to correct myself with some story but he spoke before me.
“Awww. How cute.” He sighed and began to stare off into space. “I remember my first boyfriend. . .” He began a story which I won’t repeat for the simple fact that it really began to creep me out. I don’t want anything to do with the sex life of anyone twice my age. “. . . And so that was my 85th.” he said.
“Err. . . Time?” I asked.
“Oh, heavens no. My 85th partner. I try to keep track of how many I get a year.” he said with a flamboyant grin. “My goal for next year is 100, with at least 10 of them virgins. . . You interested?”
“Oh, no.” I exclaimed taking a step back. “We’re monogamous.” I said to his astonishment.
“Wow. You don’t see many of those anymore.” he said. I decided on not correcting him that the 60s, 70s, and 80s as well as the 90s were over. He then smiled. “You’re young and in love. Just keep in mind, it doesn’t last.”
“Not many do, but we’re gonna be one of them.” I said defiantly
“You got spunk, kid. I’ll pencil you in for 8 PM. It’s the only time open. Don’s gonna kill me but what the hell. I’m his only plans for tomorrow night.” he gawked.
I left there very disturbed at how petty gay relationships are seen as, even by other gays. “It doesn’t last” didn’t leave my mind but I knew one thing. Sometimes, they do last. They had to.
Chapter 2 Chapter 2 Chapter 2 Chapter 2 Chapter 2 Chapter 2 Chapter 2 Chapter 2 Chapter 2
Friday the 14th came. Valentine’s day had finally arrived and we both did our best to not talk about ANY plans for the evening during school for fear of revealing our. . . Well, extracurricular activities to our homophobic classmates. I regularly gave him a ride home so out plans were not significantly delayed by the school bus accident in the bus turnaround that had just occurred before the final bell.
We both got into the car and acted as normal as possible during the short drive out of the school’s campus. Now, don’t get me wrong. It wasn’t as if we were going to go down on each other as soon as we were free. We just didn’t feel comfortable with everyone around us looking at us. We may have been a little paranoid, but that’s just gay life when you’re in the closet.
Our first stop for the afternoon was to the movie theater about 20 minutes away. I wanted to see Shanghai Knights but Zach wanted to see Daredevil so we went to see daredevil. It was his gift so I didn’t mind at all. All in all, the movie was actually pretty good. The ending, though, with Electra’s “death” sort of hit me hard, because I was still remembering what the guy from the massage parlor said the day before. “It doesn’t last.” I held my emotions in.
We had dinner at “Il Buon Pranzo”. It was just classy enough so that we didn’t have to change into a suit, but not what anyone would call a ‘cheap’ joint. It cost me near $100 for both our meals. We did get some strange looks from the other patrons, but we were far enough away from home to not care too much. I had ordered the chicken Parmesan over a bed of linguini. Zach had the tortellini but it was in a creamy mushroom sauce. It looked really good and I wish I had gotten it myself.
For dessert, we both ordered the fried ice cream. I wish I had a better way to explain the taste of the ice cream, but it was like. . . Well, it was like my mouth had an orgasm. If I died right then and there, I would have been able to say my life was complete. Who’d thought ice-cream could taste like that?
After dinner, we were both in my car. It was about quarter to seven when we set out for the last part of our date. He still had no idea where we were going so he kept trying to guess as to where I was taking him. For reasons which escape me, he was convinced that I was taking him to the opera hall in Philadelphia. We both disliked Opera and we were headed in the wrong direction. I think he was just toying with me, but It didn’t matter. We were getting close.
I stopped at a convenient mart about 5 minutes away from our destination. I carefully took out a bandana and placed it around his eyes so he couldn’t see. I wanted to do it earlier, but we had just eaten and I didn’t really want to get him sick, so I settled for five minutes away.
The waiting room was empty. It was five minutes to eight and we both sat down. Before we could even open our mouths to talk to each other, the same strange guy that had taken my reservation before entered the room. “Ah, Mr. Keil. The. . .” he suddenly saw the blindfold. “The . . . surprise awaits.”
“Who was that?” Zach asked a bit nervous.
“No one you need to worry about, my dear.” I replied. We stood up and I lead him into the back room where a large hot tup was situated. Strangely enough, it was full of some sort of gray mud. I helped Zach disrobe down to his briefs before leading him to the tub. Gently, I helped him in. The mud was warm, but my no means hot. It felt rather nice, even though I wasn’t in it myself.
“You too, Mr. Keil.” said the steward. “On the house. For the idealists. May they never have to face reality.” he said and winked. I hoped that he wasn’t trying to get me into bed like our last encounter, but he didn’t seem like the dangerous type. His words did bother me, though. May they never have to face reality I thought. It never lasts I thought.
“No, but thanks.” I said. “That wouldn’t be fair. This is his gift, not mine.” I replied. I decided that I did not really like our host.
“Can I take the blindfold off now?” Zach asked. “I want to look you in the eyes while I thank you for the massage treatment.” he said smiling.
“Aw, you guessed.” I said smiling and removed the blindfold. He was about to kiss me, but suddenly he held back. We decided early on to never do anything like that in public, no matter the company.
With the mud bath over, he was led to a small shower area where he quickly shed the mud that cased his body. A fresh towel was on a small rack so I took the liberty of handing it over to him. He dried off and put on the robe that was also left for him before we were lead over to a massage table where presumably “Don” would be waiting.
Don, looked exactly like our host, the creepy gay guy at the desk, save Don had a goatee and his hair was slightly darker. Our host (we found out that his name was Byron) was actually Don’s brother, and not his lover of the moment. This put me at ease a little bit.
We both talked to Don while he worked on Zach. He appeared to be a really nice guy. He was the owner of the place and he was actually straight, despite the stereotype of a massage parlor worker. He even apologized for his brother’s “Whoreish” attitude. That made me feel a lot better, but Byron’s words still filled my head. It never lasts. It just kept echoing through my ears.
When the gift was over around 9:15, we went back to my car and began the drive home. I dragged my feet while Zach floated over as usual. I wish I knew how he could be so graceful. We arrived back at my house at 10:30. Traffic was a little heavy and I needed gas so I stopped at the convenient mart again on the way out.
My father was at work like he usually was at this hour of the night and my mother was asleep in her room after the 48 hour shift she had just gotten off from. I sat down in my reading chair in a huff.
“What’s wrong, Aaron?” Zach asked me quietly.
“Nothing, I’m just tired, is all.” I replied. Zach slowly walked over to my chair and knelt down at my side and took my hand into his.
“What is wrong, my love?” he asked again, but this time he was staring me right in the eyes and I couldn’t help but to look away. “If it bothers you this much, you should tell me. We’re not just lovers. You are my friend. You can tell me.” he said quietly.
“It never lasts!” I blurted out before grabbing him and hugging him. I buried my face into his shoulder as I sobbed.
“What?” he asked caught off guard. “What do you mean?” he asked. “Who were you talking too?” he demanded a bit more stern.
I told him of my conversation with that bastard Byron from the massage parlor the other day through my tears. When I had finished, he stayed real still and didn’t move. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
“Aaron, I will admit. There are not many like us with our lifestyle. We are the minority of a minority. But what we have is real. We exist. What we have between each other exists.” He pushed me over a little bit and made room in the chair for him to sit next to me, my arms were still around his neck and I rested my head against his chest. “The stereotype is just that. . . a stereotype. Each of us has the ability to be as like or different from it as we want. Being gay does not direct our lives. We direct our lives through our choices and actions. Being gay only affects our choices, it does not control them.”
“But what if we break up in the end?” I turned and looked up to him.
“Then we will have fought the good fight knowing that we had tried our best. That is the most anyone could ask for.” Zach responded as a small tear of his own fell from his cheek.
I grabbed him around the neck again and hugged him tightly. “Thank you.” I said. “Thank you for giving me what I needed.”
“What was that?” he gently asked.
“Hope.” I replied. “The possibility that we can be who we are and still be what we are.” I said. He then sat me up and snuck out a small box wrapped in a shinny golden paper.
“You forgot to ask me for your gift.” he said and smiled. I carefully tore the wrapper apart to find a small wooden brown box with woodland designs on it. I opened it to find a small silver medallion with the symbol of the white tree of Gondor on it’s front. Zach took it from my hand and unfastened the chain before reattaching it behind my neck.
“It’s beautiful.” I said as I picked it up from my chest to admire it.
“Open it.” he said. I reached up with my other hand and carefully pried the locket open. Inside I found a small picture of me across from a small picture of him. The word WITH was under one face and the word LOVE was under the other.
“Oh, dear Zach. . . It’s perfect.” I said as my tears finally subsided. And with that, he hugged me before we began to snuggle. The fireplace was lit and burning. It was cold outside and warm inside, and love was in the air.