This story contains explicit descriptions of sexual acts between the characters in it. Although the characters are teenagers who may be below the age of consent in the country or state where this is read, nothing written here should be taken as approval of, or encouragement for, sexual liaisons between people where such liaisons are either illegal, or objectionable for moral reasons. Although this story does not include safe sex practices, it is everyone's own responsibility to themselves and to each other to engage only in PROTECTED SEX. It is a story. Any resemblance to real persons is purely coincidental. Nothing represented here is based on any fact known to the author.
The story is copyright 1999 by "Its Only Me from Across the Sea". If you copy the story, please leave the credits, and the web address of http://gay.sexhound.net/iomfats/ present, and also the email address of firstname.lastname@example.org. I'd love to receive feedback.
I only slept fitfully for the rest of the night. I got up for a pee a couple of times, thirsty each time, and saw just about every hour pass when I looked at the dial on my watch. Trying to get this straight in my mind was difficult. Actually it wasn't difficult at all, it was impossible. Just thinking about it made my brain spin. I tried sorting out what was good and what wasn't so good.
The list of good things was hard, too. I was in love; I was having a huge high; I had lost my virginity to someone - no, two someones who loved me and who I loved; sex was great fun.
The not so good list was even worse. I loved two people; one of them was a boy; After Carol had made love to me I had virtually ignored her; I didn't understand what was in Nigel's mind; Carol didn't know about Nigel; Carol was going to be absolutely killed by her Dad; Her Dad was going to tell my Dad.
The 'not so good' list was looking positively awful. The 'good' list didn't look so splendid, suddenly, either. I know it sounds pretty obvious, but my life wasn't ever going to be the same again, whatever I did. It seemed very hot, suddenly, and I was sweating buckets. Two faces constantly swam in front of me as I half dozed - Carol and Nigel, Nigel and Carol, Carol, Nigel, Nigel and Carol, Carol, Nigel...
Six o'clock. Fully awake. Not rested, but fully awake. 'I'm fourteen, dammit,' I raged to myself. 'I'm not meant to be able to handle this at fourteen. This is adult stuff. I was a kid a couple of days ago.' That didn't do any good. I crept out for another pee and yet another drink of water. At least no-one else was up and about yet, and I guess I felt better after rinsing my face in cold water, too. I was in a pretty depressed mood even so, so I went back to our room, just to lie still and try to fathom it all out. 'Things always look better in the morning' was one of my Mum's favourite phrases, but they didn't.
As I lay on Nigel's bed, looking at him on mine, I was still able to admire his beauty, the softness of his face, the bright spun silver of his hair, the long eyelashes; then a shaft of sunlight broke through our east facing window, and lit up his hair from behind, and gave him a silver and gold halo, made him look like I always imagined an angel to be: radiant, somehow, and unworldly, and made of pure light and beauty. Looking at his face always melted me inside. This morning it melted me all over, and I relaxed, and was suddenly dreamily asleep. No problems were sorted out or anything, but Nigel's beauty made me relax.
I was deeply asleep when I was woken up. The wake-up crew had to shake me to get me going. Nigel had already gone to breakfast, and I was late. I dragged a comb through my hair, threw water at my face, hauled on some clothes and hit the dining hall. Two glasses of orange juice later, I filled a plate with ham, bread, cheese, and two of those wonderful pains au chocolat, and was attacking them to try and get kick started into life. There was almost no-one in the dining room. I was just about last to get going. No Carol, no Nigel, and certainly no-one I really wanted to talk to. I was actually ferociously hungry, and ate the lot, and a second helping besides.
When I'd finished, I felt a great deal better about life, and checked the noticeboard for the last day's activities. We had today, a big party tonight, then the train home tomorrow. I reckoned my trouble started for sure after we got home, so I was going to make sure my two lovers and I had a great time until then, if we could keep Miss Coker away from Carol, that was. Today we were going to an art gallery, then some ruins, then some sort of show, and then back here to get set for the party.
I was on the second coach. No Carol, no Nigel. They must have been on the coach that had left already, I decided. I needed to talk to Carol. Had to. Nigel had planned the whole thing, but I'd left Carol rather suddenly last night, and it was important, no vital to talk to her properly. I was still having my 'crisis', still needed to, er, wanted to, er; I don't know what it was, but it was something!
Anyway, we got to the art gallery. "Form into pairs, children!" I forget who the teacher was, but what a patronising moron! 'Children' indeed! But we did. It was simpler than arguing. And we went into the gallery. Whoever said Picasso was an artist needed psychotherapy! But there was some choc box stuff there, too, you know, pictures of real things, ones you can recognise, with all their bits in the right places. And in the distance, just at the end of the corridor at right angles to the one I was in, I caught a glimpse of Carol. So I headed in her direction. As I got there, of course, she'd moved on, which was just as well, because I hadn't the slightest idea what I wanted to say. But I carried on.
Found her! Walking with Nigel. 'Best person for her to be with,' I thought. "Hi guys," I called.
"Where were you at breakfast?" Nigel asked. "I thought you were just getting dressed as we went down."
"Yes, where did you get to?" Carol added.
"Went back to sleep. They had to shake me awake!"
"Did you sleep OK?" She's asking me if I slept OK. Why is she asking me if I slept OK?
"So-so. How about you?"
"I couldn't sleep for ages." Then, to Nigel, "you couldn't sort of vanish for ten minutes, could you? Please?" He vanished. And to me "You went pretty quickly last night."
"It's OK, I'm teasing"
"I, er, you, er.."
"Chris, shut up and kiss me!" So I did, and it was as good as last night, and her tongue wrapped itself all round the inside of my mouth, and her hands grabbed my bum and pulled me hard towards her, and I joined in. Running my hands over her back, down to her backside, stroking each cheek, and pulling her towards me in return. Oh yes, it was good, as good as Nigel, and the same difference as last night. Nigel! And I broke the clinch.
"Nigel. He'll be back in a second. Somewhere, somehow, I need a quiet place to talk to you." I didn't seem able to get my thoughts into order, even harder with the growing excitement trapped in my jeans. At which point Nigel came round the corner.
He had a very peculiar glint in his eye. I was still certain that I was the only fourteen year old there. The others seemed so, so, so.. well not adult so much as worldly, which wasn't right. I almost felt as though there was a joke, and I was part of it. Or I wasn't part of it. And then something happened that made me tingle all over and want the floor to open up and swallow me completely and forever.
Nigel came up to me, put his hands on my shoulders, moved them round my shoulders, pulled me towards him and kissed me.
In the middle of the corridor.
In the art gallery.
In front of Carol.
In front of anyone who was looking.
And I kissed him back. Hard, lovingly, properly, just like I'd been kissing Carol a moment before.
In the middle of the corridor.
In the art gallery.
In front of Carol.
In front of anyone who was looking.
"Guys?" Carol was laughing. "Guys?" A little more urgently. "Guys?" A hint of 'What's going on here?' "Stop it. Joke's over!"
And we stopped kissing, and stood there feeling a little foolish. Well I was feeling a little foolish.
"So what is going on?" she asked.
I just stood there. Bewildered. Frightened. Worried. Nigel, my beautiful Nigel had kissed me in public. Worse. He'd kissed me in front of my, er, my, er, in front of Carol. In front of the girlfriend I'd been with for two years, and with whom I'd made love on the beach last night. Everything seemed to be in slow motion, except my brain, which was running at about mach 2. My brain tried to take stock. I loved Nigel; I loved Carol; I had made love to Nigel; I had made love to Carol; Nigel and Carol had each made love to me; Nigel and Carol each loved me. Then I went back to the start again. Like a bad dream, just like a bad dream.
Nigel was speaking. "I, er, well.. I love him, Carol. I love him."
"But!" Carol was looking astounded, "but! But? Chris! Speak to me!"
"Stop muttering and speak to me. Tell me this isn't happening!"
"Can't." I felt like I was the prize in some weird game. "I, oh heck, this isn't meant to be happening, not like this, not here, not now. I, that is Nigel, I mean we, but, oh shit, shit, shit! Carol, I, er we, er, you and I, er, oh heck." And I crumpled. Into a little heap. Against the wall. Hugging my knees.
"Do you mean that you, that he, you're, you've, with.. ?"
I found my voice. Almost. "Yes."
"But we've been going out for two years. Two years, Chris. Two years! And last night.. "
But she turned on her heel, and went away, walking, no, running down the corridor, out of sight round the corner. And I was there, hugging my knees, sitting on the floor, rocking backwards and forwards, on my own. On my own.
On my own, and with Nigel. With my beautiful Nigel, with my lover, with the boy who seduced me, with the boy who loved me. And I was scared again. "Why, Nigel, why?" And I looked up at him, at his face, into his eyes. And I knew why.
"I love you, Chris."
And I knew he did, and I saw the pain in his eyes, and the lips, almost quivering. And I knew I loved him, too. And I felt I'd let two people down, felt selfish, felt bad. "Me too. I mean I love you, too."
"But I love her, too, Nigel. I love her too!"
"More than me?"
"Not what I mean." And then neither of us could look each other in the eye, and we subsided into silence. Avoiding each other in each other's company. But sneaking looks at each other when we each thought we weren't looking. And he was just as beautiful, and just as exciting as when he had kissed me in front of Carol.
"What?" a bit sullen.
"I love you."
"Enough to kiss me, here, now?"
Why me? Why was thing happening to me? All I wanted was as uncomplicated a time as possible. Also this didn't seem like the Nigel of even yesterday. Out of character was putting it mildly. You know when you watch those TV soaps and you feel the story's gone all wrong, because that character just wouldn't behave like that? Now I was in one. Hanging on to reality just for a moment, I looked round. No-one there.
"Yes, enough to kiss you here, now. And I will, in a minute. I'm just, well, a bit, er, horrified, yes horrified with things at the moment. I love you, Nigel, I love you. I'm just not, er, wasn't ready to.. "
"Sorry. I couldn't help it." He looked as though he was about to crumple. "You look so beautiful, I couldn't help it. I know I said I could cope, but I couldn't. When I came back and saw you kissing, I was jealous. Now I've wrecked it, and I love you, and, and... "
It's hard to keep talking when someone's kissing you. At least Nigel found it hard. As we broke, there was still no-one around. 'Phew,' I thought. 'Phew.' "You haven't wrecked it. Not our love. You may have wrecked our reputation. Depends on Carol and whether anyone else was watching, is watching. You've kind of stopped Carol wanting me, but you haven't stopped me wanting her. No, it's OK, I won't, not if it hurts you so much." I'd seen his face look first happy, then worried as I was talking. I felt as though I was growing up very fast. I wasn't sure I wanted to, but it didn't seem optional, right then. "Look, I have to talk to her."
"No, about what she's going to do."
"If we both...?"
"Maybe. Let me try myself first. At lunch, if I can, if she'll talk to me."
"I'm sorry, Chris. Really sorry."
He didn't need to tell me. Truth was, I almost felt relieved. I didn't have to lie anymore, I just had to choose. And I wasn't gay. Nigel and I were lovers, but I wasn't gay. Carol and I had been, briefly, lovers, but I wasn't, what's the word, 'straight' either. I was just me, just Chris. Trying to be fourteen again. "It'll be all right," I said to him, trying to believe it. "It'll be all right." And I ruffled his hair. "Let's get to the coach, I'm fed up with art!"
The ruins weren't much fun. They were ruins. I mean, old walls, crumbled away so that you can't see the point of preserving them, boring descriptions of places all in French, so that I couldn't be bothered to read them. I wasn't impressed. I don't think anything would have impressed me for the rest of the morning. I wandered round them, didn't take much in, and still had that mach 2 trouble with my brain. Nigel was all cheerful, but I still needed to talk to Carol.
Over lunch, I tried. Well, I say 'over lunch'. What I mean was 'while we were eating a ham roll, a packet of crisps and a mars bar'. I tried. "I don't want to talk to you." That's all she said to me before she turned her back on me. Her face was blank, but I could see she'd been crying.
I put my hand on her shoulder. "Carol?"
"I. Do. Not. Want. To. Talk. To. You."
"Watch my lips, Chris: I. Do. Not. Want. To. Talk. To. You."
"I, er... "
"I'm sorry, Carol, I'm sorry..."
I know she heard me, and I know she ignored me. I just heard "...trusted you." before she got up and walked pointedly away.
And no, I didn't try to follow her. There didn't seem to be any point. Nor did I try to stop the tears flowing down my cheeks as I watched her go, nor care about the stares from the other kids. I just stood, not sobbing or anything, but raining tears onto the ground. There were only two people I wanted near me. One was walking away from me, and I daren't acknowledge comfort from the other. But I wanted it, needed it, needed it. And Nigel knew I needed him.
"Come with me," he said quietly from just behind me. "You need some space."
And I went with him, brain still racing, but in a daze, too. "Wait, no, this place is horrible!"
"It's also private," he said, shutting the door behind us.
"But it's disgusting... "
"True, but please be quiet." And he put his arms round me, and started to kiss away my tears, standing there in the bloody gents toilet, with the smell of lavatories all round us.
I whispered "This isn't right. Not here... "
"No, not here. I just needed to put my arms round you and kiss you and show you that I love you. And I couldn't. Not out there, not with everyone out there, with everyone wondering, half knowing. I need to hold you, Chris. Just to hold you"
And I needed to hold Nigel too, and held him tight to me, and kissed his face and his sweet lips, and rested my cheek against his, and just stayed there, healing inside. I wanted him so badly then, but not there, not there. And we had the afternoon to get through before we could go anywhere private. But right now I wanted to feel Nigel's skin against mine, to hold him close, to stroke his silken skin, and to lose myself in the delights of his body.
But I couldn't.
The afternoon was a treat. Well, it should have been. Normally I love the circus, and that's where we went, all of us. Candy floss, clowns, elephants, high wire acts, trapeze acts, circus band, lions, the lot. Well, I enjoyed the acts, but I was still feeling sorry for myself. "Chocolate or vanilla?"
"You heard me," Nigel said. "Chocolate or vanilla ice cream? My treat"
I shook myself out of it. "Chocolate, please." And I managed to squeeze his hand as he went to the ice cream stand.
As he was queuing, I was thinking to myself how much I loved him; how beautiful he was; how I needed him; how sweet his lips were; how much I wanted to be with him; how incomplete I'd been before he came into my life. By the time he came back I was sitting with a trickle of tears down my cheeks.
"Here y'are. Chocolate. Hey, you OK?"
I almost didn't trust myself to speak, but I managed a whisper "I am now."
"Why the tears?"
"Because... because... because you're perfect, and because I love you and because you love me." And I managed to press my thigh against his where we sat together on the bench, and, apart from what Carol might say, might do, all was suddenly right with my world. And I started to enjoy the show. Which was just as well, because there was only a quarter of an hour left! And Nigel pressed so tightly against me that I almost came, then and there, just thinking about him and what I wanted to do later to make him feel good.
We were late back to the school on the coach. Carol was on the same one, but she spent the time making sure that she was as far away from us as possible. Didn't meet my eyes, no smile, nothing. I wasn't too sure I blamed her. I reckon I would have felt much the same in her shoes. But I didn't have time to think about that. We had to get into fancy dress for the party.
I rushed back to the room. Heck, we rushed back to the room. As we got inside I jammed the door handle with the chair again, and grabbed great handfuls of Nigel, grabbed his tee shirt, and pulled it off him, ripped his trainers off, undid his jeans, pulled them down and his underpants, and revealed him, naked, perfect, unblemished and naked, and I kissed him on the lips, and on his chest, and nibbled his nipples, and the lobes of his ears, and ran my teeth over his neck, all the time struggling out of my own clothes, and I circled him, kissing his standing body, stroking him, smelling his musky scent, moving slowly towards his cock, towards that bursting, throbbing boyhood, with that paper thin, drum tight foreskin, the cockhead just peeping out at me, moving down to plant a kiss at the very point the cockhead winked out at me, touching it with the tip of my tongue. I was dripping with sweat from the heat of the day, and precum and he tasted beautiful, wonderful, and I gripped his foreskin with lip covered teeth, and eased it gently downwards, tightly downwards. I wanted that cock, all of it, but not in my mouth. I manoeuvred him towards the bed, and laid him back onto it, and straddled him, facing him. "I love you," I gasped as I put the tip of his hot cock up against the place I wanted him most, and then forced myself down as hard and suddenly as I could. Two groans, in chorus "Ahhhhh!" Agony from me, hard, tearing agony, pulling me apart, hurting, like I had sat on a spear. Fierce pleasure from Nigel, though I think his face and mine must have looked the same. I could hardly move. It hurt so much, but I needed to hurt. I needed his cock to tear me open. I didn't care, and I started to fuck his cock, and gradually, imperceptibly the agony was replaced with pain, and the pain with discomfort, and the discomfort with pleasure as I relaxed and his cock bounced again and again into my prostate. I could hardly keep going, hardly move any more when I felt him tense, and arch his back, and start to whimper, and with a massive release he came deep inside me, and it seemed like he came for ever, biting his lips to stop from yelling out loud, thrusting into my exhausted body, deeper than he had ever felt before. And he reached for me, for my cock, and I heard... heard...
Carol's voice at the door. Carol's voice at the door! CAROL'S VOICE AT THE DOOR!!!