Written By: Justin Case
Edited By: Ed
October 8, 2001
Disclaimer: This story contains sexually explicit material, you must be of legal age to read it. The tale is about young gay life, in the real world, but it is fiction. If there are any similarities to real people, places, or things, it must be a strange coincidence. The writer, his editor, and his publisher accept no responsibility for the reader of this material. This work is protected by copyright laws of the United States of America. ©JCPCo2001
SoapBox®: Hey guys, it's me again, with another new one. I hope you like it. Let me know, the address is Justin69SK@aol.com and if you get a chance to, look at my web site, it's at http://Justinscorner.homestead.com
I don't even know where to start, that's always my problem, I always start at the end, the wrong end. Well, I guess I can tell you all my name, it's Jacob Mathers, pretty boring, huh? Yeah, it could have been Godfrey, my mother is always telling me. God for short, I guess. Who knows what they were thinking? I'm the only Jacob in my school, Mayfield High, and I think the only Jacob in Mayfield, New Jersey.
I guess, first I'll tell you a little about Mayfield, since there really isn't much to say about me. OK, Mayfield is in southern Jersey not too far from Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. It's a small township, only has about two thousand people. I think that all the people in town know me, at least it sure feels that way sometimes. Have you ever lived in a small town? You know the kind, where everyone knows everyone else's business, and if they don't they make it up. People here in Mayfield are funny, and the more of them I get to know, the more I like my dog. OK, so I stole that line from a bumper sticker I once saw, but it is how I feel.
As I was telling you, Mayfield is a small place, all the kids go to school together, and most of us have lived here all our lives. So needless to say, we all know what's what, and who's who. By the way, I'm not on the `Who's who' list. Nope, I kind of like it that way too, I stick to myself and what few friends I have.
Oh, before I forget, I'll tell you about me. It's what Mr. Furey, the junior class English teacher says you have to do in this stupid project he has us doing. Yeah, it's a yearlong assignment he gave us. We have to write about our lives. I can promise you, it won't be that long, I'm only sixteen. "If you can add some real facts from your life, it will enrich the story," Mr. Furey explained as he talked about the writing assignment. "Now, you don't have to get personal, but real things also will add to the content. If you have to, you can change people's names, and even places, but I'd like you all to be as honest as you can."
Was he in for a surprise? Honesty he wants, honesty he'll get. It's not like people don't know about me, like I said, I come from a small town. `Maybe I can teach `em all something,' I thought to myself as I began writing this. I don't know why but sometimes I feel so much like I'm surrounded by a bunch of foolish people, and it's up to me to show them how ignorant they really are.
I remember when I was in the ninth grade, we were in music class, Linda Dailey says to me, "What's it like when you have sex? Are you the man or woman?" Linda is one of those on the list of `Who's who'. I just felt I had to show her how ignorant she was, I was bursting with information, after all, I was the only gay boy that anyone knew, except for me, I knew a couple others.
"Neither, Linda. We just have sex and enjoy each other's bodies to the fullest extent," I proudly shot the words at her.
I watched her face as it twisted with distaste. "Oh, you fag," she screamed, loud enough for the rest of the class to hear.
Enough of Linda, let's get back to me. I like me better than Linda. OK, like I was saying, my name is Jacob, and I'm five foot six, I weigh about one hundred and ten pounds. I have black hair, which I wear in a spike. I've just highlighted some of the ends; it looks pretty awesome if you ask me. I have dark brown eyes, which are deeply set below my large forehead. Yeah, I got this huge forehead. I'm not athletic, so I don't have one of those muscular bodies that so many others seem to have. I guess I'm pretty average, body wise. Oh, yeah, and one more thing, like I said earlier, I'm gay.
I don't broadcast the fact, but people know. I've given up on the idea of hiding who I am from everyone, except my family. I don't think they know, at least I haven't told them. I'm still ashamed of myself, I guess. I've even had thoughts of suicide, but I gave those up when I figured no one would come to my funeral. I also think some people would be pretty upset if I did kill myself. I have accepted the fact that I have sex secretly, and I look for love secretly. I haven't found it yet, love that is, but I'm still looking.
I guess I can tell you a little about my family now, that's the other thing Mr. Furey said to make sure we do. He told us not to introduce too many people at one time or we'd confuse the reader. I don't know how, he already knows most of us and who are families are, he's going to be the reader. I mean it's not like this thing is going to be read by a bunch of people, Furey did say only the best would be posted on the central bulletin board, but I know this won't be one of the best. Besides, I'm gonna write some real detailed stuff in here, about my favorite subject, SEX! I may be gay, but I'm a red blooded horny sixteen-year old boy, just like all the other boys in my class.
See how I get all going in a different direction, I warned you. I'll get back to my family now. Sorry about that. I hope that if nothing else, I'll learn how to write from this stupid project. I can't stand all those red pen marks on my papers, you know the ones. "Poor sentence structure, fragmented sentence, run-on sentence," not to mention "poor punctuation," the notes in the margin or all over the pages, always in red. There I go again, huh?
My family, what can I say? First there's my father, he's cool. His name is Jack. He lives in Philadelphia, he and my mother divorced years ago. Dad likes to drink more than he likes family. He is about six feet tall, gray hair, and drives a sports car. He used to beat my mother, so we threw him out. I only see him a couple times a year now, and that's fine with me. My mother, on the other hand, sleeps a lot. So, even though I live with her and my sister, we don't talk that much. She stands about five foot five, has brown hair, brown eyes, and a huge nose. Mom works at the Shop-Rite in Woodbury, New Jersey, the next township over from us. Finally, there's my sister, her name is Joan. She's cool; she got her license a few years ago, and has always taken me where I wanted to go. Joan is thinking of moving out soon, she just turned nineteen. She's a little taller than I am; we've always competed for tallest. Joan is five foot six and one half inch tall, has the same black hair I do, but wears hers long, it hangs all the way down her back. She has blue eyes, like my father, and her nose is big like my mother's.
I remember one time, Paula Crowley and I were talking in art class, I mentioned having to ask my mother about something, and Paula goes, "You have a mother? I didn't know you had parents, you don't seem like you have parents." I always wondered what she meant.
I thought about that a lot, and wondered how many other people didn't know I had parents. I guess that because my mother never came to any school functions, she was always too tired from work, and she did work out of town, people didn't know her. Like I said, I don't have many friends so I guess that's why Paula didn't know I had a mother.
I suppose this is where I should tell you about my friends, few as they are. I hang around with a group of people actually; most are younger than I am. Some of my friends are still in Junior High, so no one in Mayfield High knows who I chum around with. So much for my small town theory, I guess I live a sheltered life unknown by many. Which, like I said earlier, is fine by me.
For the most part after school, I hang around at the Morins' house. The Morins are a large family that live a few blocks away from me. There are eight kids in the family, and often I am the eleventh at the dinner table. Mrs. Morin seems to like me. Mrs. Morin works at an insurance company, and Mr. Morin works at a liquor store. Usually, they're not home when we get home from school. I pretty much hang around with Champ, he's fourteen and pretty cool. He's as confused about sex as I am, but we enjoy each other's company, in more ways than one.
Champ is five foot two, has dirty blonde hair, blue eyes that sparkle whenever he sees me. He has a great body, smooth all over, and well defined. I love watching him in the summer when he takes his shirt off. He has the softest patches of hair under his arms that turn me on. He only weighs about ninety pounds, so he's not really skinny, but he's not fat at all.
It all started, my definitely knowing that I was gay, and what I considered the beginning of my life that is, two years ago. It was an early spring day, a day like any other day, we were sitting around the kitchen table. Melody was busy cooking supper; I had been invited again. I guess at the time, Melody was considered to be my girlfriend. That's because I had asked her out, I did try to keep up the appearances, and hoped maybe if I went out with a girl I could be normal. It was worth a try, and Melody was a nice girl, I really did like her too.
I was sitting at the chair at the end of the table; it was halfway in the kitchen and halfway in the living room. The Morin house was a cape; it had a large kitchen-dining area that you came into from the back door. The only other rooms on the first floor were two bedrooms down the hall that ran off the kitchen, and the living room that was off the dining area. The stairway to the second floor was right across from the front door to the home, and the second floor had the other two bedrooms, the five boys in one, and the three girls in the other.
Like I was saying, I was sitting in the chair between the living room and dining room. Melody was at the stove cooking shepherd's pie, one of my favorites. Margie was reading to Carla, the youngest Morin girl and Carl's twin sister, on the couch. Champ was in the kitchen with Mel and me. He kept wanting a cigarette, I forgot to mention, I smoke. Melody kept telling him he was too young to smoke. We all smoke, except for the twins that is, they were only eight, but Melody, Margie, Champ, and Greg, the twelve year old Morin, smoke.
"No, Jacob, don't give him one. Haha," Melody teased.
He rounded the corner from the kitchen to the living room, and grabbed my cigarettes and stuffed them down his pants, he had that `dare you' look in his blue eyes, and a smirk that wouldn't quit pasted to his lips.
I felt my heart skip a beat, I could do it, and it would be acceptable. After all, it was a dare, and Melody didn't want him to have my cigarettes. I shoved myself out of the chair, I heard it as it fell over onto the hardwood floor, I chased into the living room after him. He quickly turned and charged back into the kitchen. I caught him just as he tried to run down the hallway and Melody blocked him. I grabbed his belt, the one that held his blue jeans up, with my left hand, and forced my right hand into his pants and tight white underwear. I let my fingers linger around as slowly, but not obviously, as I could, and grabbed for the cigarette pack.
His body stopped, I felt him as he relaxed against my hand in his crotch, and it was almost as if he had wanted me to feel him. His soft blue eyes seemed to invite my touch; we looked at each other directly in the eye. I gently pulled my hand out with the rescued cigarettes and felt his few pubic hairs on my fingertips. It was a moment that froze in my mind, a moment that I had long awaited, and the chance to find out if he had matured enough to have hair.
"Wow, I guess you won't be smoking any today," Melody chanted.
I opened my pack and gave him a cigarette, and just looked at him while he stared into my eyes.
"Aww, Jacob, you're too nice. You should have made him get them out of your pants," Melody laughed as she continued teasing her younger brother.
I only wondered why I hadn't thought of that. I guess it was because he was only twelve, and that while I felt he had some hair on his privates, I was fourteen and had more, I didn't want to embarrass him, I guess. I wanted to be able to take it further, and now I think he did too. I hoped he did, he did seem to freeze up while my hand roamed around his dick and balls, he didn't flinch, he actually pushed his body towards my probing hand.
I remember the rest of the day, but in fast forward, it wasn't until I got home that night, that my mind began to slow down. When I was in my bedroom, alone with my thoughts, the ones I had of Champ and me touching each other, and exploring our bodies. My dick grew to its full five inches, and I slowly jerked it off, while I lay on my back in my bed in the darkened room. I pictured his soft cock, the one I had briefly touched that afternoon. I tried to imagine what it must look like hard. I created my own vision of it, while my cum exploded out of my dick and onto my chest, with the stroking of my right fist vigorously squeezing every drop from the cut mushroomed head as I climaxed alone.
This was the beginning of my life, as I know it.
There you have it, I hope you liked it. There is more to come, I promise.
Thanks, Ed, for the edit.
But Not Forever,