You know the rules. Nobody under 18 allowed. But knowing myself, and if I was under 18, I wouldn't care at this point. Just don't get caught. This is my first attempt at a rather sexually oriented story. To be honest, it's actually my first attempt at one without an English rubric or a teacher to supervise.
ATTENTION reader: you must absolutely tell me what you think, else I will come via modem and ... make all your dreams come true! Kidding. Feedback to Comments, hate mail, flames, are welcome. No bombs and marriage proposals please. Seriously, I don't consider myself an excellent writer. In fact, you'll probably notice many grammatical and spelling (my spell check does not work, unfortunately) mistakes. If you're an English major, teacher, or just friggin' well versed in the language (unlike me), aid me in improving my fledgling writings.
This is a partially true story. There really is a "he" (you'll find out later) and hopefully "he" won't find this story. Names are real with surnames tastefully abbreviated. Up to the part where "he" stops me after class is true. Events afterwards didn't happen but hopefully will.
Just a note: if you're looking for hardcore sex in literary form, you won't find too much of it in here. I strive for story and plot development. Nevertheless, there are "moments" like that in here.

History with Him


I knew I was gay ever since I knew I had a penis. Whenever I had the chance, regardless of location (yes, even in airplanes and department stores), my fingers would find themselves caressing and playing with my dick. Actually, no, I began the whole "jacking-off escapades" around 7th grade, when I was about 11. Only then did I start looking at "boys" in a whole different light, sexually.

Now, at 15, and a junior in a "straight" high school in upstate New York, I am going crazy. Do you know the feeling? The feeling of wanting to scream to the masses "I am gay," and perhaps, "yes, goddamit, I am a Lilith Fair addict!" The feeling of lust for the unclothed sweaty bodies in the locker room and yet knowing that the moment you set eyes upon a patch of hair below the navel or at a nicely defined chest, you'll be forever taunted and shamed by the person you are not. The feeling of falling in love for the first time. That is how I live now. And the funny thing is I have always thought that I'd remain like this. Closeted, trapped in my little shell, and silently yearning for the taste of a dick in my mouth behind rosy-colored glasses. All this changed when I met Blake. Cliche, yes, I know, but let me digress.

He was in my advanced U.S. history class. A beautiful, un-jockish 6' 2" dream. His face was that of a cherub: angelic and lusciously inviting. Lovely short, slightly spiked hair that I just yearned to touch. Brown eyes and deliciously pink lips, a lovely bronze-white complexion. All those attributes just increased his magnetism. One can never find him not wearing Eddie Bauer -- and girls. And then there is his laugh. His delicious laugh: high-pitched with a pinch of femme reverberating in the background. His teeth were not perfect. They were crooked and caused him to slightly mumble at times. But, at any point, I didn't give a flying shit. He was perfect in my eyes, and, crooked teeth or not, I lusted for him with a silent, passionate fury.

The seats in the class for that one Friday before Halloween were arranged in a U shape for a discussion forum; students were assigned alphabetically by last name. Myself having a last name beginning with an "A", I was naturally assigned the first seat. Blake, whose last name was on the other end of the spectrum with a "W", sat a seat next to me, with no one in between us. I have long legs. And so does Blake. Unfortunately, we didn't have enough room to stretch our legs and fashionably slouch without making foot contact. Fortunately, I being the slacker and bum of the two stretched my legs out first in the space fronting the two of us. But he knew my feet were there or so I thought. Right when the teacher was discussing the likely outcome of the coming elections, I felt two feet blanket my own. Normally, circumstances would have me withdraw quickly and sit up straight. However, for one reason or another, I kept them there, enjoying his veiled touch, and hoping that he didn't think me queer for keeping them there.

He withdrew his feet two minutes before the bell signaled the end of second period. Our eyes met furtively then and I had a chance to witness to the true beauty and shape of his for a good...say, three seconds. And when the class did end, I walked out quickly, hoping to avoid further eye contact (which I avoid at all costs, hoping that nobody will see through my facade). Though as I exited the doorway, I felt a hand touch my shoulder and a muffled "Hey, Mike--" and turned around to find Blake smiling. Not knowing what to do, I said "Hi" and muffled an excuse to leave as I was going to be late for Spanish class. "But we're both walking to the language wing in the basement," he asked, "why don't we just go down together." Shock enveloped me. This was the first time he overtly broke through the barrier I had constructed and talked to me. But I refused, suddenly remembering an orchestra lesson I had to make up during the period. I'm so damn good at lying, even to myself. And so he walked away, glancing back only once and then catching up with his clique. I waited until he disappeared from the hallway and then ran to Spanish class taking an alternate route.

That day progressed extremely slowly. To say that it even progressed is an exaggeration. At the end of eight period's computer science class, time found me finishing up a C++ program, and waiting anxiously for the afternoon announcements to break the silence and signal the end of the school day. Blake found me then. He entered the computer lab telling the aide he had an assignment to type and sat down at a computer across the room. When the bell did ring, I saved my program, zippered my bag, said goodbye to my partner, and prepared to leave for the bus when I felt that familiar touch on my shoulder. It was Blake once more, and, like earlier before, his smile radiated, well, let's say, burned me with its utter simplicity and graciousness. This time around he came with a proposal.

"Mike, hey, howya doin'?" he asked.

"Fine, just fine Blake. Did you need something? I mean, I really gotta catch the bus."

"No prob. I'll give ya a ride home if you do," was his reply.

At that point I was silently reeling. His smell, his smile, his hand on my shoulder, everything about him drove me crazy. I wanted more than a ride from him. He wondered if I was going to a pre-Halloween party that night. He pondered why the hostess, an extremely sultry, flat chested girl whom I knew to have the instincts of a bitch in heat, hadn't invited me. What he didn't know was that I had offended little miss hostess a week before when I told her that she was obsessed (having counted her 429 pictures on her wall) over a particular (and very cute) boy band, N'SYNC.

"But Jess hates me, Blake; she just does. In fact, I think she wants to kill me. Kill me with her voice or something. Or, like with her hair: whipping me like that Sindel chica in Mortal Kombat."

He laughed.

I smiled.

"No problem, Mike, a lot of people cancelled and she's asked me to help repopulate, um, I mean to get more people to come to the party. Will you come if I asked you she wanted you bad?"

No. But he was going to be there so I said "yes", smiled, obtained an invitation, and ran to the bus, which was on its process of leaving the school's driveway.

Nevertheless the hellish load of homework for that night, I was excited. I was going to a party with oh-so-cool and delicious Blake attending. My mom drove me to the store to get a costume. Pondering, I selected Elmo socks, an orange knit hat, a Russian hood just in case, and a black shirt for my costume. I was to be a starving Russian poet wearing Elmo socks. And to match the socks, I found an Elmo doll, regained its disemboweled mechanical "Elmo loves you--" stomach from my brother's fortress-in-a-room, and carried it with me.

I looked odd, definitely.

The night came clear and crisp with a whisper of October's chill. When I arrived at the party at around 7 p.m., there were people passed out from the beer on the lawn of Jessica's massive lawn. Suspicious shapes intertwined behind curtains on the second and first floor bedrooms. I went inside, wondering what Blake was dressed up as, when I found, to my unlucky surprise that it wasn't a costume party. This further proved a point. I am such a dumbass at times.

I turned different shades of red, blue, and green at that moment. But I guess everyone was too roaring drunk to notice. I said "hi" to Jess, said sorry for the N'SYNC affair, and gave her my card. Not being the best "mingler", I deposited my dumb little ass on a nice empty leather couch. Jess then gathered the "coherent bunch", turned off the lights, and put the VCR on play. We were to watch "Event Horizon", a sci-fi/horror movie about a haunted space ship with demons from hell. Fitting. The couch, or so I thought, was empty. But when the opening screen came up and the light from it permeated the darkness, I found that the couch was actually occupied by two other people besides me: Blake and Jess. I smiled to both and moved a good distance away from Blake, who sat in the middle. "Event Horizon" progressed with the speed of a snail in winter. Throughout the whole movie, Jess was attempting to seduce Blake with her long blonde locks and her rather revealing top (though it did not reveal much) to no avail. Blake was fixed on the movie. And I was, in turn, fixed on him.

I was uneasy. Jess had her head on his thigh, edging ever so slowly to the area I craved from him. To shake the tension from myself, I propped my legs up on an empty chair in front of me. The movie in itself was not scary, perhaps disgusting at times, but not scary whatsoever. What made us all jump however, was Jess' high-pitched scream every time the eyeball-less woman would lift up her eyelids. After one particular scream session, Jess situated her head right on Blake's crotch and digged down. A whispered "Jess!" followed and Blake moved right next to me. Our asses were touching and he leaned on my shoulder. His shoeless feet propped up next to mine. His hands touched my kneecaps. In other words, I was utterly, amazingly seduced, entranced by this angel sitting next to me, touching my Elmo-socked feet, and slowly and seductively rubbing my kneecaps clockwise. One could tell by looking at the subtly emerging bulge in my pants.

What was I doing? I was getting hard by Blake. Blake! Blake of all people was rubbing my thighs and playing footsies with me! I was getting an erection. A stiffy! And I wasn't even drunk. And neither was he! What can one think but "eek" at a moment like that?

At the moment of my panic, the scorned soprano emerged from the kitchen with two cups of beer for Blake and me. But by "accident", she tripped on two "maker-outers" and spilt it all over Blake's pants. Breaking out of my stupor and of Blake's touch, I offered to get him some tissue and went to the kitchen. Blake followed.

"It's ok, Mike. I can do it myself."

"Got it for you already. Here, wipe well. Damn, you smell like my father after a night out with his 'buddies'."

"Yep, my parents are gonna kill me if they pick me up tonight," he said, "Damn it, I hate beer, I hate wearing beer soaked pants."

Laughingly, I replied, "Why? Have you been soaked in beer before? Take them off if you want and go around in your boxers."

"I don't wear underwear," was his reply, "it's too constricting."

"No shit. Hey, dude, I'll give you my pants to wear for tonight, and I'll go in my boxers, besides, seventy-five percent of these assholes are too drunk to realize the beauty of my kneecaps. You're a size 32, right?"

He smiled.

I took off my pants and gave them to him.

"Feel free to wear them, Blake. Just don't, you know, stain them! There's a bathroom there, two doors on the right, down this hallway."

"Nice socks, they match your boxers."

Well, my socks didn't match my green boxers but I smiled.

"It's ok, I can change right here."

I turned politely away while he took off his beer soaked pants.

"Hey, Mike."


"That bitch meant to do this to me, right? Whatdoya think?"

"Yep. And what are you going to do about it? Kill her with your cuteness?"

I almost shit in my pants at that moment. I had slipped, but apparently he had not noticed.

"Neah, look."

I turned around. He was naked from head to toe with the spray nozzle of Jessica's sink in his hand.

"I'm gonna take a shower now -- in her kitchen!"

And with that, he turned the water on, and proceeded to enjoy every moment as the water caressed his skin. He paid particular attention to his inner thighs and his legs' point of contact. I turned around, obviously embarrassed, my erection making a tent in my green boxers.

"No, Mike, look!"

I turned slowly around. He had a bar of Safeguard in his hands and was ever so slowly lathering up his pubic area. When he arrived at his delicious set of balls, the moaning started.

"Blake, stop it! Rinse yourself damn it! I'm going back to the couch. I'll see ya around."

I wanted to stay and revel in his beautiful presence but found that I could not.

"Mike, wait, sorry, I'll stop!" said he, "I just really need a fucking shower. I hate the smell of beer and I don't want my parents to think I got drunk when they pick me up."

"Why don't you just use the regular bathroom?" I asked.

"Well, let's see, bathroom one, Karen and Grady are fucking, bathroom two, second floor, Carolyn's giving Josh a blowjob, powder room, first floor, hmm, Joe is throwing up. Believe me, Mike, I've checked on the way here."

"If you don't want to get in trouble, I can give you a ride to my house. You can shower there and afterwards I can take you home. My parents won't be there to tell your parents anything. If you want, you gotta call your parents now though, I'm getting tired of the movie."

I handed him the cordless.


I went back to the living room but didn't sit down. My spot was taken by Jess and this senior named, Mark. They were in the process of getting a "home run".

Blake, who put his hand on my shoulder, startled me.

"My parents said `ok' but asked if I can sleep over at your house because they didn't want me to stay home alone while they went to their own party. Is it ok with you?"

"Yeah, sure." I smiled. I couldn't contain my excitement and kissed him. He answered back as fervently. But I stopped, ashamed of what I just did, and went out to the car.

"Um, Blake--?"


"Never mind."

The car ride was in silence. We arrived at my one bedroom apartment in five minutes. I told him he could take the master bedroom and my parent's bed while I take my normal position in the couch. He agreed hesitatingly, arguing that he should get the couch. But I insisted, and he took the towel I gave him, closed the bedroom door, and took a shower. I went to sleep confused, without a shirt in the sweltering heat of the apartment, and still in my boxers.

In the middle of the night I woke with a start badly needing nourishment from a bag of potato chips and a trip to the bathroom, which as in the master bedroom. With attention to my bladder, I first went to the bathroom noticing the serene beauty of a slumbering Blake. After relieving myself, I noticed that Blake had shifted in position and had his hands in the pants I had given him to wear. Shock of all shocks was the fact that he was moaning and saying my name in his process of jacking off. The thought that passed through my mind at that moment was, "Shit. Now he's gonna cream in my pants." But then I realized the reality of the situation: the man of my dreams was jacking off, in front of me, and in my pants! I tiptoed right next to him, cock in hand, and blew softly on his face. He was asleep. I was about to go out and indulge in the bag of chips when I decided "what the hell?" and bent down and unzipped the pants his hands were in.

"What the fuck!" screamed he.

"Um--uhh--oh nooooooo--"

I ran to the door.

"If you want to fucking suck my dick, please do it while I am awake, please?"

He unzipped the pants and revealed his cock between his hands. It had gotten soft due to the initial shock but he was now working fervently to get it back up. I went softly next to him and pulled down my boxers. He undressed and then quickly pulled me down on him and kissed me. I kissed back. He kissed back. I was in ecstasy. All my fantasies were coming true. A poor teenage boy like me was actually getting what he has wanted ever since he laid eyes on this beautiful Jewish boy.

I took a nipple in my mouth, savored its sweetness and moved slowly down to his navel. He moaned. I toyed with him, tonguing his stomach area, and swatting his hand every time it went to jerk his cock off. My tongue found its way to his smooth, almost hairless thighs. He tasted good, and I was yet to explore the prize. Slowly, I took it in, the object of my dreams. Only when it was fully erect did I notice the challenge I had ahead of me. It was hard. Really hard. His cock was a good 7.5 inches long, not friggin' bad for a 16-year-old. I sucked, schlurped, engulfed, bobbed up and down, I did everything to satisfy Blake. He moaned and moaned and even said, "Slow down!" I was into it so much. I wanted it. I wanted him to feed me his children.

When he was about to burst, I stopped. I left, went back to the couch, and cried.

He came to me naked and shivering despite the heat. We had both just realized ourselves and didn't like it. Hell, we enjoyed it, but the shock was too great. He hugged me as I cried. I kissed him once more and left.

Continued in part 2: "forgiveness"
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