The contents of this story is purely fictional although based on real life happenings in my life. All names have been fictionalize to protect the innocent and not so innocent. The content matter of this story concerns love and sex between males teenagers. If this is not what you like reading or it is illegal for you to read this material because of age or laws go somewhere else. This story is copyrighted by it's owner and may not be copied or published elsewhere without the owners permission.

Author's note:

Here's the next chapter. Write me.

Hope you like the story. Let me hear from you.

Sam Lakes

samlakes86 at


by Sam Lakes

Copyright © 2006 All Rights Reserved

Chapter Six

I spent three days learning to use my new camera and all its features. Of course Michael had me back in school for four hours a day of which one and a half hours were spent on French. Both my dads spoke French fluently and I was pretty good at it myself as we had lived in France before for almost a year.

“Michael, when do you think we’ll be leaving for Chicago?”

“Well, your dad says we will only be here for two or three months at the most.”

I decided against making any friends. That was until I met Henri (pronounced On-Ree) and Jacques. I was in the park when I saw Henri with his friends communicating with such alacrity that I couldn’t look away. One of his friends saw me staring at Henri and said something to him. He looked at me and I smiled. His friend said in a not to friendly tone. “Take a picture it will last longer.”

Henri rolled his eyes. “Excuse my friend he is so rude.”

“Maybe but he’s right. A picture will last longer,” I said as I took off my backpack and took out my camera. “Smile.” I took a picture then moved to a different angle and shot another couple of pictures.

They started making these really funny faces and laughing. I captured them all and I found myself laughing too.

“What is your name?”

“Bastian.” I was about to ask him his name but he then asked. “Where is Falcor?” and giggled.

“I’ve lost him,” I said sadly,”I lost my luck dragon.” I put on the saddest face I could manage. Then we three both burst out into laughter. His friend’s name was Jacques.

“You don’t have a Parisian accent,” said Jacques, “Where are you from?”

“That is very hard for me to say. I was born in America. But I’ve lived everywhere, Canada, England, Germany, Sweden, Netherlands, Switzerland, South Africa, Australia, Japan, China, New Zealand, and the US.”

“Wow! How many languages do you speak?” asked Henri.

“English, French, German fluently but I also speak some Dutch and some Swedish.”

“You don’t have an English, American or German accent,” said Jacques.

“Well, I learned French when we lived in Nice. It’s my second language. My Dad speaks French fluently and so does Michael, he’s my tutor.”

We talked a bit more. I found out they were both fifteen and Henri had a younger brother, Pierre. The two of them invited me to go with them to the mall. I ended up spending the day with them and their friends. I took a lot of pictures.

It’s interesting being a photographer. You learn to see things others don’t. By the time I left them, I knew they were a couple. It was the way they looked at each other and would surreptitiously touch each other. Also I noticed, when I’d see a drop-dead gorgeous girl and comment on it, they seemed less than interested, but when I commented on a good looking guy and they both looked, and then after a few moments Jacques asked, “Are you gay?” in an accusing tone.

I just laughed and changed the subject because I wasn't positive that they were.

The thing is I was watching them and they definitely were checking the guy out. I was intently watching one of their friends; playing a game, and then noticed them walking out of the arcade. I followed them.

I really didn’t know where they were going, but I didn’t want them to ditch me, because I had no idea as to how to find my way back to my apartment. I saw them turn down a corridor. By the time I got to the corridor I just saw them disappear from view around another corner.

As I rounded the corner I found them seriously engaged in a rather passionate kiss. Both had their eyes closed.

They made a sweet couple. I couldn’t resist. I slowly and silently moved in to get a really good shot and fired. The sound of the camera must have been like an explosion because they both jumped apart in an instant.

My camera snapped again and caught a couple of horrified looks. I couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m sorry but your faces” I continued to laugh. They regarded me curiously but with a lot of apprehension.

“You make a cute couple. I didn’t mean to scare you. You don’t have to worry I have a boyfriend in America.”

“You’re gay,” said Jacques, "I knew it!"

I nodded.

“You’re not going to show that picture to anyone are you?” asked Jacques.

“Only my dads.”

“No, you can’t Bastian. Please he will tell our parents.”

“It’s okay my Dads won’t say anything they’ll think it’s a cute photo too.”

“What do you mean your dads?” asked Henri.

“I have two dads, two fathers. Brian is my birth dad and Michael is his lover.”

“Wow!” they both said. I think it was from that moment on that we three became close friends. Sort of like the Three Musketeers. The only thing we didn’t do together was sex.

The best picture I got of them was one I took two days before I left Paris. At the time I didn’t know I was leaving. Henri asked me if I would take a photo of them nude.

“No,” I said firmly. Not because I’m a prude but because I knew I was attracted to both of them and I knew I’d get hard seeing them nude. I had fantasized about having sex with both of them several times…okay! OKAY! Nearly every jack-off session I had, it involved them and me. You happy!

I ended up taking the pictures. They were beautiful. One of the photos I covered my bed with rose petals and miniature yellow chrysanthemums and had them lying on their backs so their heads were even with each other’s pelvic bone. I had a ladder and shot the picture from above them. I used Vaseline on my lens filter to get a really soft focus.

Of course after I took the picture they asked if I wanted to take a break. I smiled and left the room. When I returned, the room didn’t smell like rose petals anymore and they sort of had a relaxed look.

The best one was a silhouette of the two naked boys facing each other very close. I made them a copy of all the pics I took.

“We want to kiss you,” said Jacques.

“We love you,” said Henri as he pulled me close to them.

I loved both of them equally and I knew they loved me. A moment later I was doing the hottest thing I’d ever done - a three-way French kiss. I know you probably think that it was rather tame but I was only fourteen years old and to me it was hot. It is one of my most favorite memories.

The following day was a D, as in Disaster, day. My dad announced that we would be leaving Paris the following day. He had finished up his work and there was no point in staying because his work visa had expired.

I cried. I pleaded. I begged to stay in France. “I told him I had friends, now and I didn’t want to leave.” It made no difference. I noticed Michael was a bit quiet.

I cried all night. I refused to pack, so Michael packed for me. I knew he was on my side because I vaguely remember hearing them argue for a few moments after I ran out of the room.

Henri and Jacques met me at the airport to say good-bye. We were all crying. I hugged and kissed them good-bye and followed Michael and Dad through security. Before I disappeared from their view I turned and waved. I saw them both sobbing so hard it started me off again.

Michael pulled me into a hug and tried to calm me down. It helped a bit. I supposed I was too occupied with my own woes to notice that Michael and Dad had said very little to each other. I didn’t really notice anything wrong until I found myself sitting next to Michael. In the past Dad and Michael always sat together and I sat by myself.

I guessed the argument they had was pretty bad, but I was still pissed that we were leaving Paris and too upset at leaving Henri and Jacques. It was only a few minutes later that I really realized something was wrong.

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome aboard flight 3978 enroute to Melbourne, Australia via Singapore. Our flight to Singapore will be twelve hours and thirty minutes with a two hour stopover in Singapore.

We were not going to Chicago like Dad had promised months ago. Michael had known.

“I want off the plane,” I said.

“Bastian, it’s only for a few weeks then we’ll be going on to Chicago. I’ve found a house and they are getting it ready for us.

There was no point in making a scene – it didn’t work last night. I turned and looked out the window, got out my mp3 player and tried to tune everything out. I was tired and depressed.

I woke when they were serving breakfast. I spent a good ten minutes in the restroom crying. Finally, washed my face and returned to my seat. During breakfast I toyed with my food. Michael tried to talk with me. I ignored him and then pushed the call button for the flight attendant. When she arrived I handed her my tray and turned and looked out the window at nothing.

I heard Michael say, “You can take mine too. I’m not that hungry.”

After the flight attendant left I heard Michael sniff. I turned and looked at him. His eyes were closed but a tear was running down his cheek. I knew it wasn’t his fault we weren’t going to Chicago. He looked so sad. I kissed his cheek.

“I love you so much,” he whispered opening his eyes and looking at me.

I leaned into him and he put his arm around me and gave me a hug. I needed that hug. “Michael, is that why you were arguing with Dad last night?”

“Yeah, that and we have some personal problems we have to sort out.”

Neither Michael, nor I talked to my Dad the whole flight to Melbourne.

Melbourne was okay. We were staying in an okay hotel, but then we moved to Brisbane. Over the next two weeks there were more arguments between Dad and Michael.

The thing I feared the most happened. Michael left.


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