Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction, and any resemblance to real people is coincidental.  The story contains graphic descriptions of sex between adult male teenagers.  If the law in your jurisdiction prohibits you from reading such descriptions, please exit the story immediately.  --Brew Maxwell

Coming Out

Chapter 2

The school day passed the next day without incident or need for comment. I couldn't go to Jason's house that afternoon because of a meeting I had after school, but I knew we would talk later that night. I got home before either of my parents and went up to my room. I heard them both come in, but I couldn't hear them talking. My mom rarely cooked from scratch on week nights, preferring instead to stop at a deli for our evening meal, and that night was no exception. She called me down around six o'clock.

The meal went as usual, but neither of my parents was particularly talkative. I made a comment or two, and they answered me, but it was definitely strained. I finished eating and asked to be excused.

"Wait, please. Your mother and I want to talk to you," Dad said.

Oh, shit, I thought. What the fuck can this be about?

"Kent, your mother and I have been talking about this almost non-stop for the last twenty-four hours. It's something we feel that we must confront you with. We want you to know that you will always be our son and we'll always love you, no matter what."

It was like someone had swung a sledge hammer into my gut. I felt incredibly hot all of a sudden, and I was sure my deodorant would give out. My penis contracted to its smallest dimension at that moment, and I felt a wave of bile rise in my throat. This is it, I thought. They know I'm gay. At least he had said they'll always love me. But what is the "but" that follows that?

"Yes, sir," I said. "I know that." I was trembling with nerves and anxiety.

"Good, son. We think we've made a discovery about you that came as a total surprise to us. We're hoping it's just a phase, a little bit of experimentation by a high-spirited boy."

Oh, God! Take me now, I prayed. Let me die, please. Don't let me have to say this. I bowed my head almost all the way to my chest. I couldn't look at them, these wonderful people who had given me life and a happy home for so many years. I would disgrace them, and I couldn't help it. I thought of Jason and wished he were there with me. Sweet Jesus, I prayed silently, don't let them hate me. Don't let them cast me out of their home.

"Kent, we're waiting, Son," my dad said.

"Yes, sir," I said. Then, after a pause, "Dad, it's not a phase, and it's not just experimentation. yes">  It's not something I chose. You have to believe me."

"Son, we believe it is something you chose, and we believe it's something you can overcome," my dad said.

"Daddy, I didn't choose it. Please believe me," I said. Tears began streaming down my face.

"Calm down, Son. Your mother and I just really don't understand."

I was sobbing by that point. I felt so completely humiliated, so completely inadequate, so totally ashamed. I had let them down in the most fundamental of ways.

"We believe Jason is behind this," my mom said. "We've suspected it about him for several years, and we've actually known for sure since last summer." Tears were streaming down her face.

"It isn't Jason's fault. I don't want you to think less of him," I said between my sobs.

"Well, we don't agree with you on that point. We know how strong the pressure can be, especially with boys as close as you and Jason are. We love him, too, Kent, and we always will, but we're pleading with you to let this thing go."

"I can't, Dad. I just can't."

My mother burst into hard, wracking sobs. Just then the phone rang, and it was evidently one of my dad's law partners.

"I have to take this call, and I'm probably going to have to go out of town for a few days to help with this case he's calling about. Let's all calm down, and we'll talk about this again when I get home. I love you, Kent, and, when your mother is able to talk, I know she'll say the same thing. If you can't stop it, you can't stop it. I don't understand that, but I'll try to live with it. You're an adult, and I can't control your life, even if I totally disagree with your choices. I just won't have it in my house. I hope you'll understand."

He focused his attention on his call. My mother got up and went into their bedroom. I sat there totally numb. His words echoed in my head and in my heart: "I just won't have it in my house." I heard my heart beat in my ears, and I was truly afraid for the first time in my life. They were going to disown me. They were going to kick me out because I was gay.

My dad left the kitchen with the cordless phone and went into his study. I put my head down on the table and cried. I sobbed. I wept. I had the closest thing to a total catharsis that I had ever experienced.

I got up and washed my face in the kitchen sink. I dried my face on a paper towel, and I walked slowly out the back door. Without thinking, I got into my car in the driveway and cranked it up. I backed out and headed toward Jason.

When I got to his house, I let myself in. We never knocked on the door of each other's houses. In fact, we each had keys to the other one's house, in case we ever needed them. That night the back door was unlocked, as usual, and I stumbled up the stairs and opened the door to his room without knocking.

The room was in shadows, illuminated by a few candles. Jason was on the floor in the lotus position, and he was naked. He had a huge erection rising up from his groin, and he was staring at a picture of me. I knew he meditated, but that was the first time I had actually caught him at it. Ordinarily, the sight of him without a shirt on was enough to make me hard, much less him naked with a hard-on. That night, though, it had no effect on me.

He seemed a bit surprised to see me, but he wasn't startled when I burst into the room. He didn't move at all.

"Hello, Kent. Please have a seat," he said.

His voice seemed far removed from that room, almost like he had a foreign accent or something. He never said stuff like, "Please have a seat" to me. In a couple of minutes, he rolled his eyes far back into his head, and I thought I could see life coming back into him.

In a few seconds, he grinned at me.

"Hey, buddy. What's up?"

"Something bad, man." My voice caught, and I was, once again, on the verge of tears. He scooted over to me and pulled me to the floor. He hugged me and kissed me tenderly. He knew I was in pain, and he wanted to comfort me.

"What happened? Your face is a train wreck. You look like shit."

Ordinarily, I would have had some wise-ass remark to come back with, but that night I was too distraught to even pay attention to his insults. Besides, I was sure I did look like hell, if not shit.

"My parents confronted me tonight," I said.

"Confronted you? About what?" He seemed genuinely puzzled.

"About being gay, that's about what! It was a scene. I was crying. My mom was crying."

"What did you say," he asked, obviously solicitous for me.

"I told them it's something I didn't choose, and it's something I can't give up."

"What did they say when you said that," he asked.

"He said they think I did choose it and that I can give it up, if I want to."

"Jesus Christ! I gave Frank more credit than that, Babe. I really did. Isn't it common knowledge people don't choose to be gay?"

"I thought it was, especially among educated people like them. Hell, I don't know any more, man."

"What else did he say? Did he say anything about me?"

"Oh, yeah. They think I'm going through a phase, maybe adolescent experimentation or something, and that you're causing it. They said they've suspected it about you for years but that they've known for sure since the summer."

"They've suspected it for years? Shit, I've been like your fucking brother, Kent. Your parents are like my second parents. I've spent as much time at your house as I have at my own. What happened last summer to make them know it for sure about me? I swear to God and to you, I've never so much as kissed, or even held hands with, another boy."

"I know that. I don't know what made them know."

"What else did they say," he asked. There was worry, almost panic, in his voice.

"The worst."

"The worst? What? What did they say," he demanded.

"He said, `I just won't have it in my house.'" I collapsed in tears. Jason pulled me to him, and, in a second, he was crying, too.

We stayed clinched together, crying, for a long time. His warm flesh felt good. I felt supported and loved.

"You can live here," he said, after we had calmed down.

"What about your folks? Do you think they'll go for that? Hell, your parents and my parents are best friends. Do you think they'll let me live here?"

"We'll talk to them. We'll explain what happened. They'll support us. Remember what my mom said the other day. It's a human rights issue."

"Living with you would be pretty damn good," I said. My mood was beginning to lighten a little.

"Oh, man. It would be fan-fucking-tastic. For sure." He was grinning.

"It's kind of something to look forward to when they kick me out," I said.

He looked at me quizzically.

"They didn't kick you out tonight," he asked. I detected a slight edge of disappointment.

"Well, not officially. He got a phone call he had to take, and my mom left the kitchen in tears. He said we'd discuss it further in a few days when he gets back from his business trip."

"Oh. Well, that's cool, though. It'll give us time to prime my parents. To get them used to the idea of your living here. I think we need to talk to them first thing in the morning, though. So your mom doesn't have time to call my mom."

"That's a good idea. They get up early, though, don't they?"

"Jesus! Yeah. Like 6:30 or something. We can do it, though."

"Yeah," I said. "We can do it together."

Jason reached up to the coffee table in front of the loveseat and retrieved his cigarettes. He lit up and offered them to me. I had actually remembered to put a pack in my shirt pocket before I got out of my car, so I declined and lit up one of my own.

We sat on the floor smoking and thinking.

After a few minutes, Jason broke the silence. "Since we have to get up so early, I think you'd better spend the night here, don't you?"

"Yeah. I do, too. I'm not real big on the idea of sleeping at home tonight, anyway."

"By the way, did you do the math," he asked.

"Yeah. I had a study period today because my humanities teacher was absent. The sub said for us to stay quiet and keep busy, so I did my homework."

There was a long pause. "Is it hard," he asked.

"Babe, maybe later, okay? I'm not much in the mood right now," I said.

Jason looked at me uncomprehendingly. Then he said, "Not your dick, dummy. The math homework."

After the tension of the confrontation by my parents, that struck me as enormously funny, and I laughed my ass off. Jason laughed, too, probably because he gets amused when I laugh that hard.

"It's pretty easy, actually. I'll help you, though, if you need it."

"Did you bring yours home," he asked.

"No. It's in my locker at school. Do you have your book?"

"I hope so. I meant to bring it home, if I didn't," he replied.

"Well you can do it when you get to school, if you don't. It only took me about ten minutes," I said.

"Are you going to go home to get your stuff for school," he asked.

"I probably ought to. Will you come with me," I asked.

"Of course. I'm hungry, too. We didn't have dinner tonight. My parents are out. You want to go get something to eat?"

Even though I had had dinner, I could pretty much eat anytime. We left his house and drove to mine. I was hoping we wouldn't see my mom. I didn't want there to be a another confrontation so soon after what had happened earlier.

The house was dark when we got there. I found that a little strange, considering it was only a little after eight. I unlocked the front door and turned on the light in the foyer. The house was completely quiet. I had noticed that my dad's car was gone, but that didn't surprise me. I didn't know where he had gone, but I assumed he had either driven there or had driven himself to the airport.

"I want a coke," Jason said. He went into the kitchen and turned on the light. "Hey, Kent. Come in here," he called to me.

"What," I asked. I was slightly annoyed. I wanted to get my stuff and get the hell out of there before my mom heard us and came out of her room.

"Look at this," he said, handing me a sheet of paper. It was a note from my mom. There were also four fifty-dollar bills on the table. I picked them up and stuffed them into my pocket. I figured the note would explain what they were for.


I've decided to go with Dad to Atlanta for his business trip. I want to do some early Christmas shopping and see a couple of my friends up there. We'll be home Sunday night or Monday.

Baby, Dad and I are really sorry about tonight. We had no idea it would affect you the way it did. We don't ever want to hurt you or alienate you, and I'm afraid we might have done both tonight. Just know that we love you with all our hearts.



Below that message was one written by my dad.


I echo everything your mother just wrote. As I said earlier this evening, if you can't stop it, you can't stop it. I don't understand that, but I'll try to live with it. You're an adult, and I can't control your life, even if I totally disagree with your choices. I really can't stand to have it in my house, though. I hope you'll understand that and respect it. You and your brother and Jason mean the world to me, but I can't tolerate it in you and Jason, any more than I could in Darren. We'll talk more when we get home. I'm confident you and Jason will do the right thing.



There it was in black and white. There was definitely no denying it. I gave it to Jason for him to read, and I could tell he was getting more and more angry with each line of what my dad had written.

"Son of a bitch! Mother fucker! I can't believe this shit, Kent. Not from Frank. I love him, Babe. How can he do this to us?"

"I told you it was the worst, man. Jason, I'm so torn up." I started to cry, but I continued speaking through my sobs. "I love them so much, man. How can they say they love us but they won't tolerate us? How can that be, Jason?"

"Slow down. I can't understand what you're saying," he said. "They won't tolerate us loving each other? Is that what you said?"

I was way too emotional to try to repeat exactly what I had said, so I just nodded. He had gotten the essence of what I meant, even if he hadn't really gotten the details of what I had said. I sat down in one of the chairs at the kitchen table. My face was wet with tears, and snot was leaking out of my nose and running down my face. I didn't care, though. Jason handed me a paper towel from the rack under the cabinet, and I wiped my face. Then I blew my nose. That made me feel a little better, a little calmer.

After I calmed down a little, I was able to speak intelligibly again.

"You know what I feel like doing?"

"What? Getting something to eat?"

"No. Going into his study and letting you fuck the shit out of my ass on his precious desk." My dad had a magnificent antique Queen Anne desk, with a gold leaf design worked into the leather on the top of it. His parents had given it to him when he was made a partner of his law firm, and it was his pride and joy. He never let my brother or me near it when we were little, and even now he cringed a bit if I happened to go in there with a can of coke or a bottle of water in my hand. It was like a fetish object to him.

"And I'd let your cum leak out of my ass all over the top of it, and I'd rub it in with my dick, just before I shot my own load onto it," I said.

"Jesus Christ! You're losing your fucking mind, Kent. That desk is a work of art. Plus, sperm plays hell with leather, especially antique leather," he said.

"How do you know that," I asked.

"I watch HGTV, man. It's on all the time at my house. Don't you ever watch `This Old House Classics'?"

"They talk about the effect cum has on antique leather on `This Old House'?"

"Well, not exactly, but you can put two and two together. It doesn't take a genius, you know?"

"I think we're both losing our minds. I wish we had a joint."

"Do you smoke pot," he asked, incredulous.

"No, but I bet it would calm me down, or something. If I smoked pot, I'd have a joint, now wouldn't I?"

"Not if you smoked them all," he replied.

"Good point. Well, anyway, let's get my shit and get out of here."

"Get your shit? I thought you didn't have any pot."

"My stuff, Jason. My clothes and books and shit." Jeeze, I thought, this whole thing with my parents really has him rattled.