Date: Fri, 19 Mar 2021 07:05:31 +0000 (UTC)
From: austintc@aol.com
Subject: Carter and the Biker Boy, Chapter 11

The following story is purely fiction involving fictional individuals of
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Carter and the Biker Boy

Chapter 11

I didn't realize how tired I was until I got home, put my bike in the
garage, grabbed the mail and the free weekly newspaper we always got
every Friday. I hadn't been home since Thursday, and I had forgotten to
turn the A/C on in the house, so it was warm and humid inside.
Thankfully, our central air would cool the house down quickly.  I flipped
the thermostat thingy on and the thing started pushing out cold air.
Soon the house would be nice and cool. I went into the kitchen, and it
was indeed a mess, and the living room wasn't much better. I hadn't
done dishes in about a week -- in fact, I hadn't done any dishes since
Mom had left. Looking at the cleaning I'd have to do before Mom got home
tomorrow, I got so tired that I just went to my room, flopped on the bed,
and quickly fell asleep.

I wasn't sure how long I'd been asleep, but it was a deep, dreamless
sleep for what seemed like hours. My sleep was interrupted by my cell
phone buzzing, letting me know I had a text message.  With one eye barely
open I grabbed the phone and saw the text was from Dylan.

< Hey Carter-man.

< Hey Dylan. Whats up?

< Why'd you leave so early dude? Thought we could hang today.

< I know. I have stuff to do at home. Mom comes home today.

< Really..thought that was tomorrow.

< She got an early flight.

< What time she come home?

I lied and told him 6 pm tonight
.
< Can I stop by in about an hour?

I pondered my response, but I know that seeing my biker boy would make me
happy I agreed to let him stop by.  Plus, I had to ask him about last
night.

< Yeah, sure. See you then.

< Great! See you then
.
It was killing me to know why he called me Dayne last night when he...
well, you know.  Or was it just a very strange yet awesome sexual dream
that I imagined? It couldn't have been. No way! When I went to the
bathroom, the evidence was revealed. Oh well. In the meantime, I'll just
lay here in my extremely comfortable bed for just a few minutes more.

A few minutes turned into about sixty, because I was awoken by the sound
of the doorbell. It scared the crap out of me, and I shot right up out of
bed to see who was at my door. It was Dylan, looking hotter than ever,
wearing the same biking outfit that he wore the day that I first met him
after his accident in front of my house.

"Oh hey Dylan, come in. Man, it's hot outside today," was all I could
think of to say. "When do you have to go to your party?" I inquired, as
he seemed distant.

"Oh, yeah. Um my mom is going to drop me off around six.  I still have
five hours. So what you up to?"

"Um, not much. Just thought I'd better get the house cleaned up before
my mom gets home this evening." I lied once again, and he challenged me
on it.

"But I thought she wasn't getting home until tomorrow?"

"Change of plans, I guess.  She was trying to get an earlier flight so
she could, um, you know, rest up tomorrow."

"Oh, okay.  So is it like okay that I came over today?" Dylan inquired,
suddenly no longer seeming like so confident in knowing that I'd want
him here.

"Yeah, yeah. That's fine. I don't have to go anywhere, you know, I
just have to clean the kitchen."

"Cool, because I thought we could spend a little fun time together
before she gets home. I want to finish what we started at the park and
didn't get a chance to do last night."  At first I felt my body tense
up with excitement of knowing that I'd get another chance to feel my
biker boy give me what I longed for, but then when he said that he
didn't get a chance to do anything last night, I felt a wave of
uneasiness creep over me. I had to say something about what happened
while I was asleep and called me Dayne, but I didn't know just how to
approach him. So I just more or less blurted it out, minus the Dayne
part.

"But, I thought that you did do it to me, in the middle of the night
last night?" He was taken aback by my statement.

"Dude, I um am pretty sure I didn't.  I didn't even hear you get up
and leave this morning. I think I would have remembered if we did it last
night. But you're saying I did?"

So I told him about the dream I was having and then how it was his voice
and that he kept calling me Dayne.

"Whaaaat? Calling you Dayne? Why would I call you that name? Dude, you
were just dreaming. Sounds like a heck of a cool wet dream, Carter-man.
Now you have me really turned on by your dream, and I want to make up to
you what we didn't do last night." He truly did believe that it wasn't
him who screwed me last night. In fact, now he almost had me believing
it. Anyway, I shrugged it off as being not a big deal, especially when he
pulled me close to him and started rubbing my shoulders with his strong
big hands.

"Come on, just let's have some fun.  This is probably going to be one
of the last times we can get together before school starts.  Soccer
practice starts on Monday for me, and then in two weeks school starts.
You know you want me, don't you, little dude?
"
And as he pulled me close to him, my head on his muscular pecs, I could
feel the sweat on his biking shirt and his dick rock-solid hard against
my chest. His scent was mixed with his sweat and some Axe cologne, and it
was the best smell I've known in my young life. He knew me too well.  I
did want him now, as my own dick was straining to get loose from my tight
fitting boxer briefs. But what happened next took me by surprise. There
was a change in his tone of voice, and a change in his attitude that
began to scare me, but I still did as he told me to do.

"Let's go to your room, and you can take your clothes off so I can see
you."  I did as he told and seconds later, I was naked in front of him.
"Now, pull my shorts down and lick my thighs." I did as he told me, and
he was wearing a black jockstrap that barely concealed his upcurved dick
and full, hairy balls. I did as he told me and as I began to lick his
thighs inches away from the jock strap, he grabbed the back of my head
and pushed me into the jockstrap.

"Show me how much you want my dick in your ass. Lick and suck that
jockstrap like you want it so bad." Again, I did as he instructed me.
The heat coming off the jockstrap was amazing; the musky scent of his
sweaty jock was turning me on like never before.

"That's it, Carter-man. You want my dick, don't you? Say it.  Say I
want your dick, Dylan." He instructed me with a voice of authority now,
pulling my hair and head back from his jock so he could look into my
eyes.

"I -- I, um, yeah, I want your dick in my --" He cut me off before I
could finish saying where I wanted him.

"I said to say, `I want your dick, Dylan!' Now say it right!"  Now I
was getting a bit nervous, but if this was a game he was playing, I was
getting into it and figured I'd better play along.

"I want your dick, Dylan.  I want your dick, Dylan. I WANT YOUR DICK
DYLAN!" I said a little louder each time, even though my words were
muffled by his hand holding my face into his jockstrap, which was now wet
with my saliva.

"That's more like it.  Now if you want it so badly, pull my jock strap
down and take me into your mouth.  Get that dick all nice and slobbery so
it'll be ready for your tight ass." I wasted no time pulling his
jockstrap down to his ankles, and as his dick sprung loose, I quickly
grabbed it by the base and pulled it to my mouth. A string of precum
stretched from his wet head to his thick bush of dark pubes, and as I
took him in my mouth, a stream of precum began to flow into my mouth, its
taste salty and sweet, making his dick slippery and causing him to moan.

"OH yeah, Carter, that it's.  That feels so fucking good. Keep sucking
that dick."  I did for about five minutes or so.  I wanted to touch my
own dripping dick, but as he saw my hand move toward my dick, he stopped
me and firmly told me not to. "Not until I say you can touch yourself.
Then you can. But now you need to keep sucking."

My knees were getting sore, and I was nearly gagging each time he forced
his dick deeper into my throat. Even still, I was enjoying every minute
of sucking on Dylan's huge dick, but I was getting really nervous of
what was yet to come.  Finally, as his breathing increased, and his dick
seemed to get harder yet while still leaking copious amounts of precum, I
thought he was going to cum, but instead he told me to get up and bend
over on the edge of my bed. Now on the edge of my bed with my butt in the
air, I waited for the next instruction from Dylan. Suddenly, the doorbell
rang.

"Don't answer it.  Don't you dare move, Carter." Dylan whispered in a
serious authoritative voice. My phone was on the bed, and I quickly
pulled up the outside cam on the security app both Mom and I have
installed on our phones. It was my Tio Javier who was standing outside.
"It's my Tio Javier, Dylan.  I have to answer the door.  He has a key
to the house, and he will come in and find us. I can't have that happen
again." I heard him mutter `fuck' under his breath and he then
instructed me to answer the door but told me to make him leave. That
would be impossible, I thought to myself.

I quickly grabbed my basketball shorts from the floor by the doorway to
my room, pulled them on as my dick had now gone limp in fear of not
knowing what my tio wanted. As I opened the door, he was just reaching
for his keys to unlock the door.

"Hola Tio!" I nervously said, shaking his hand as he pulled me into a
hug on the front porch.

"Como estas, Mijo?" (my son - a name he always called me). I replied
that I was well. "Tu mama va a llegar mañana del D.F., verdad?"
he asked, wondering when my mom was going to get home tomorrow from el
Distrito Federal, commonly known to us as Mexico City.

"Si, Tio. Ojala que ella estare aqui mañana por la tarde. Necesitamos
comprar cosas para mis clases y ropa nueva. No hay mucho tiempo mas antes
el primera dia de la escuela." I told him that I needed things for
school including new clothes, and that I had hoped that she would return
tomorrow afternoon.

"Ah, verdad, Mijo. Si necesitas algo, tu tia puede ayudarte."  I knew
my aunt would be more than willing to help me, even if Tio Javier had
volunteered her services without her knowing.

"Gracias, Tio. Vas a cortar el pasto?" I figured he was here to cut the
lawn, but I thought I'd ask just to be sure.

"Si Mijo, Javecito ya esta atras."  I wondered why I hadn't seen Javy
out by the truck.  He had already started cutting the lawn in back of the
house.  It was a huge relief to know that my Tio was treating me like he
did before he caught Javy doing me in Javy's bedroom. I had hoped it
would stay that way, because I really had fun staying with Javy while mom
and mis tios were in Mexico. So that was a relief, but now I had a bigger
concern as my Tio asked me if I was home alone. It was as if he sensed my
nervousness and asked me if everything was okay.

"Si Tio, todo esta bien, mi amigo Dylan esta aqui conmigo." I explained
to him that I was okay, and my friend Dylan whom he had met before was
here.

"Quien es este muchacho?" I tried again to explain to him who he was,
but all he responded with was that did my mom know him and was it okay
for him to be in our house while she was not at home.  I responded to him
that it was, that she knew him and would be fine with him here.

Satisfied that I was okay and that I had not let an axe murderer in the
house, he told me that he had best get mowing as he had seven more
client's lawns to mow today. As he walked away, he told me to be careful
and then said in English, loud enough for Dylan to hear:

"Tell your mom to call me when she gets home tomorrow."

"I will Tio.  Tell Javy to call me later, okay?" He agreed, and waved
goodbye, just as Javy emerged from the garage side of the house. His long
curly jet black hair was nearly touching his dark, tanned shoulders, his
back wet with sweat from mowing; his white soccer shorts not doing a
great job of concealing his dick.  How I longed to be back with him, and
maybe not so much with Dylan, with the way he was treating me this
afternoon. Javy waved as my tio started the big mower, and I waved back,
making the hand motion to call me later.  He nodded his head in agreement
and walked to the truck. I went back in the house and hoped the Dylan
would have changed and was back to being the kind and friendly big
brother type friend I had come to know and really like. But instead, the
same tone of voice greeted me.

"So your mom isn't coming back until tomorrow, huh? You lied to me
Carter."  Dylan startled me as I locked the front door to find him
almost right behind me in the living room, wearing nothing but his socks
and shoes.

"Time to go back to your room, Carter. Where did we leave off before we
were interrupted by your uncle?"

"You were just about ready to leave?" I asked while laughing a bit as I
said the word `leave'.

"No Carter, you were on the edge of your bed, ready to give me what I
want, weren't you?"

I couldn't lie, I did want him, but not in this manner. I wasn't sure
how to respond. He was acting angrier than he was the first time he saw
me look at his shorts when I was putting the bandage on the wound on his
inner thigh when he collided with the car in front of our house earlier
in the summer. I nodded that I was on the edge of my bed, ready to give
him what he wanted. But I also had to stall him in case Tio Javier or
Javy rang the doorbell again, or worse yet, came in the house. So if I
could wait a few minutes longer, they would be gone. I told him that I
needed a glass of water, and he followed me into the kitchen, and waited
as I slowly drank my water. I looked out of the front window in the
kitchen just in time to see my Tio pull out of the driveway, turn left,
and headed down East Drive to his next job. Dylan then forcefully put his
right hand on my shoulder and guided me to my room.

"Okay, let's do this NOW." He said in a determined voice. "Get on the
edge of the bed. I said EDGE of the bed, Carter!" And grabbing me by my
shoulders, he pushed me down on the bed, then quickly pulled my shorts
down to my ankles to reveal my bare butt. "Oh yeah, that's what I want.
Look at that cute ass. And it's going to be mine real quick. But first
you're going to like this, and you will be begging me for my dick."

He spread my legs apart and in one motion buried his face into my hole,
his tongue darting first around the hole, then he began to lick it like
it was an ice cream cone.

The feeling was like nothing I'd felt before. My dick automatically
sprang to life, was hard in seconds, and the feeling of him licking my
hole had me almost ready to beg for his big dick to be in me.

"Oh fuck yeah Carter, your hairless hole tastes good. But as much as
I'd like to keep licking, it's time for you to take me inside you.
Dylan stood up, and with one quick motion I felt his hot, wet, precum and
spit lubed dick head press hard into my hole, breaking my tightness and
in one swift motion he buried it deep inside me until I felt his pubes
and sack against my skin. "Oh fuck Carter, that feels great!" I wasn't
ready for him to force it in so fast, and as the pain shot through my
entire butt, I screamed into my sheets and blanket on my bed, and felt
tears start to form in my eyes.

"That hurts, Dylan, please pull it out!" I cried out loud, but he just
told me to relax and to wait a minute until the pain subsided. I tried,
and after a moment or two of deep breathing, my butt got used to his size
and surprisingly, as the pain went away, feeling his hot dick inside me
again caused the pleasure start to return. He asked if it was better, I
nodded that it was, and he began to move his dick in and out of my hole.

Whatever immense pleasure I got from him being in me last night in his
bedroom was now replaced with not only pain and an uncomfortable feeling,
but fear of wondering how badly he was going to fuck me. I remembered how
the guy in the video Javy showed me mercifully punished the other guy,
and I was afraid Dylan would do the same to me. My only thought was to
act like I was enjoying it enough and that maybe he would cum quickly.
So I started moaning and tried to match his in and out movements with
movements of my own. It began to work, and the moaning seemed to turn
Dylan on more, as I could feel his dick get harder. With all my energy
and might I continued to fuck him more than he was fucking me, and as I
tried to squeeze my butt muscles around his dick, I felt his breathing
increase and finally as he was about to blow his load inside me, he
pulled out just in time to shoot his load all over my bare back, in my
hair, and on the sheets in front of me. Little did I know that as I was
riding and fucking him, I shot a huge load of cum on the side of the bed
and onto the hardwood floor of my room.  Dylan started laughing a little,
and quickly rolled me over on my back, his cum now transferred from my
back to my sheets.

"You were fucking great, Carter. Oh, I see you came too.  You little
bottom bitch! You liked that as much as I did, didn't you?"  All I
could do was nod my head yes, just trying to agree with him so he would
leave. But instead, he pulled me by my hair and forced me down to my
knees and stuck his dick by my mouth and told me to open up. At first I
shook my head no, but he pulled my hair more and forced my face into the
base of his dick, and as he pulled his dick down to my mouth, I took him
in my mouth and nearly gagged at the taste of it. As he moved it in and
out of my mouth, he got hard again. Now I was afraid he would fuck me
again, but he kept punishing my mouth for like five minutes or so, and
finally he tensed up as his dick got really hard and big as he shot a
small load of cum in my mouth. I tried not to swallow it, but he kept his
dick inside my mouth by holding my head tightly against him. I had no
choice but to feel the hot, pungent tasting cum slide down my throat into
my stomach. Now I really felt used and abused, and totally felt like
throwing up.
 I really did not like this version of Dylan whatsoever.  He scared me.
Finally, after sitting on the side of my bed looking at my cum on the
floor, he got up and began to put his clothes on.

"I gotta go. Hope you liked feeling my big dick in your tight ass, and
that load I shot into your mouth.  I know it sure felt good for me.  So
hey, I am not sure when I'll see you again.  Been fun.  I'll let myself
out.  Good luck at school if I don't see you before.  And hey, this
didn't happen, so if you know what's good for yourself, you better NOT
tell ANYONE at school about this.  Got it?"

With tears now streaming down my face, my mind full of confusion and
disbelief over what had just happened, I got up from my bed, slipped on
my shorts just in time to see Dylan walk out the front door of the house,
hop on his bike and ride down the street to the bike path that led to his
house.

***
I am not sure which pain was worse. Was it the physical pain I felt from
how Dylan had just used me, or was it the mental anguish due to the fact
of how he was so mean and hurtful with his words and actions towards me?
Either way, both made me feel miserable.

I cried for the better part of an hour, trying to come to terms with his
actions. It made no sense how he was so nice to me one moment like he was
yesterday, which was almost the best day of my life. We had so much fun
together, and I truly thought he was becoming my best friend. And then
the next moment he denied fucking me last night in his room, and then he
came here to my house and was so angry and rough. What bothered me even
more was that all the while he was being mean to me like that, part of me
was scared to death, but another part of me, somewhere deep inside
greatly enjoyed being used and being told what to do sexually. All I knew
was that for once in my life something inside made me fight back by not
just lying there, and instead figuratively standing up to his attack by
me fucking him, making him cum rather than him having his way with me.
Even though there was pleasure by what he did, and I did cum too, my
tortured hole was very, very sore.

I fell into a dreamless sleep again, and when I woke up it was dark
outside.  I couldn't move for fear of the deep ache in my bowels again.
As I laid in my bed, I checked my phone for messages, and there were
none.  I thought just maybe Dylan might have texted me, but he did not.
Neither had Javy.  It was almost 9 pm, so he probably would not call me.
Finally, I got up out of bed, and took a nice hot shower. My butt hole
felt stretched and was very tender to touch. I put on a pair of
basketball shorts, a tee shirt and made myself some mac and cheese.

I didn't realize just how hungry I really was.  The mac and cheese
tasted great, and I nearly ate the entire pan that I'd made.  Some of
the pain had begun to subside, but I was still quite sore. As I sat
watching another episode of "Love, Victor" on Hulu, the entire time
spent with Dylan passed through my mind. With everything that had
transpired since he invited me to spend a few days with him at his house,
it seemed as if he really enjoyed being with me, and likewise, I enjoyed
spending time with him.  But then it only started to make sense that he
was essentially using me to get what he really wanted -- what he got from
me today. Which was weird, but anyway the answers just could not come to
me.

I ended up watching two episodes of "Victor" and then decided to go to
bed.  The past two days had been eventful enough, and if anyone texted me
later, too bad.  I was going to bed. Almost immediately, I fell into a
deep sleep, did not dream, and slept all they way until the filtered
sunlight streamed in through my bedroom window.  Looking at my phone, the
time was only 6:30 am.  I could have tried to go back to sleep, but it
was too light in the room, so I got up and started cleaning.  By almost
10 am I had the house cleaned up, and so I decided to take a bike ride.
Mom texted me at 11 saying that her plane was just getting ready to taxi
down the runway. My best guess was that she would be home by 8 pm later
in the evening.

It was another beautiful day, almost a carbon copy of yesterday. I rode
my usual route, which was south down through Shorewood Park to the YMCA,
then turned around and rode north back past my house to the forest
preserve district office, which was about four miles north of my house,
where I sat drinking some water at a park bench that overlooked the small
lake.

As I sat there soaking up the late morning sun, several groups of people
walked by, as well as an older guy with what appeared to be his young
son.  The boy looked to be about 10 or 11, and the dad was so proud of
him for making it up the hill without stopping.  The little boy was
beaming with joy at his dad's approval. The dad looked at me several
times and I just smiled at him. He smiled back at me, and just like that
they mounted their bikes and continued on their ride.  A few minutes
later I noticed that they had stopped at another part where you can ride
right down to the shore of the lake.  They were both skipping rocks
across the water.  The boy must have skipped his first rock as I could
hear the dad congratulating him as he gave his son a "high five".  It
was then that I really wondered what it would have been like if my dad
would have been in my life.  Would I still be the same person I am today,
or would I have been different?

I often wondered how it would have been to have a male role model in my
life other than my Tio Javier. Yes, as my godfather, Tio Javier was good
to me, remembered me on my birthday, and always helped out if we needed
money.  But he wasn't my father. Seeing that boy with his dad made me
wonder if my own dad would have accepted me as a gay son anyway. Probably
not, I thought to myself. My ponderance only added to my melancholy mood,
and for the first time since Mom had gone to Mexico to be with my
abuelita, I began to feel very, very alone. Before I had another crying
episode like I had at home last night, I got up from the park bench,
pressed play on the music app on my phone, got on my bike and started the
ride back home. About a mile into the ride, alongside the baseball
diamonds in Sportscore park, a song came on and the lyrics made me stop
and wipe the tears from eyes that would not stop flowing:

"I thought that I've been hurt before
But no one's ever left me quite this sore
Your words cut deeper than a knife.
Now I need someone to breathe me back to life."

The song, "Stitches", is by one of my favorite artists, Shawn Mendes.  As
I tried to compose myself, looking to my right of course there was a
baseball game being played by guys Dylan's age. I didn't think it was
his team that was playing, but of course as I watched the batter swing at
the next pitch and hit it way over the centerfield wall, several people
in the stands were cheering and I'm pretty sure I heard someone say
"Awesome hit, Dylan!" Ironically as I got back on my bike and started
riding away, I glanced to the field in time to see the batter (Dylan?)
look out at me on my bike. It was all the more reasons to ride away as
fast as I could.

As I crossed the parking lot on the southern edge of the soccer fields, I
glanced to my right at the field where Javy pushed me into the goal post,
which resulted in my broken leg back in May. This also put me further and
deeper in my depressed state of mind as I reflected back on everything
that had happened to me since May. I continued biking for about a half a
mile to the picnic shelter, which was located at the southwest corner of
the park along the bike path. It was a good parking spot to drink some
water and try to calm myself down, but to no avail. I just needed to get
it out, as my emotions had reached a bursting point, and the dam waters
were going to let loose.  Thankfully, no one was there, or so I thought.

I had been there about five minutes crying my eyes out when the dad and
his son that I'd seen by the lake came riding up on their bikes around
the western side of the shelter, surprising me just as much as I had
surprised them.  The boy quickly asked the dad why the other boy was
crying.  So of course, the dad started to talk to me.

"Hey buddy, are you okay, are you hurt?" he asked, in a calm and caring
voice; his son seemed scared that I was crying.

"Oh, sorry, sir.  I'm okay.  I'm not hurt, physically.  I'm just, um,
going through a hard time right now. But I'll be okay." I really
didn't want to tell my life story to some stranger in the park, even if
he did have his kid with him.

"Are you sure? I mean, it's okay if you need to, um, talk or anything?
I'm a school counselor and am a good listener."

Great, I thought to myself.  Just what I need, another do good counselor
thinking they have the answers to all of my problems.  I'm sure he had
good intentions, but right now talking about my gay problems is the last
thing I felt talking about, even to a counselor.

"I'm okay, sir. M-m-maybe at some point I will be ready, but sorry,
just not right now."

"Sure, no problem. I understand.  Sometimes it is very difficult being a
teenager, or a boy who is about to become a teenager. It always helps to
talk to someone like a mom or a dad if you have a question or problem.
But if that's not possible, your school should have a trusted counselor
you can go to.  If I can ask, are you going in to... seventh grade?"

"No," I said sort of angrily. I hated it when people took me for
someone younger. "I'm actually going to be a freshman at Harlem this
year. I start in a couple of weeks."  Just talking made me feel a bit
better.  At least my crying had stopped, although my nose was still
running.

"Oh, sorry.  So you're just like me. I was the smallest kid in my class
in grade school and for most of high school. I get what you might be
going through.  Thankfully, my boy Jake here took after his mom's side
of the family and is growing up quicker than I did at his age."
Glancing at Jake he appeared to be almost as tall me.

"So Harlem, eh?" He asked. "Well, I am at Harlem, so if you're okay
with it, I'll give you my card, and feel free to stop in and see me
anytime once school starts.  I'll help you with whatever I can -- no
questions asked, and the advice is always free." He then handed me his
card. Mr. John Olsen was his name. "Okay young man, If you're okay,
Jake and me are going to continue our ride. That number on the card is my
cell number, so call me anytime if you need anything. Okay?"

"Sure thing, sir. Thank you." As they rode away, the boy named Jake in
the lead, I kind of felt better, but the thoughts about my own dad
flooded into my mind momentarily, but dried up just as fast as they
flowed in. I took a deep breath, hopped back on my bike, and began to
ride home.

Maybe it would be worth talking to a counselor, I thought as I rode along
the path, riding past the limestone table where Dylan and I...well, you
know.  The guy seemed nice enough, but would I want him to know about me?
Would I want to come out as a gay teenager once I got to high school?
Would he tell my teachers about me, and would other students find out and
make my life an even greater living hell? So many unanswered questions in
my mind which was already clouded by so many issues that were becoming so
overwhelming for me to deal with. As I was stopped at the lights on
Riverside Boulevard waiting for the light to change for me to safely
cross the road, I reached in my front right shorts pocket to feel for Mr.
Olsen's card, but little did I know that after I accidently left it on
the table at the shelter, a gust of wind blew through the shelter,
carrying the card with it, throwing it a good fifty feet away from the
picnic table into the deep woods that were located alongside the shelter,
not to be found anytime soon.