Written By: Justin Case
Edited By: Ed
October 19, 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 to you all, I hope you're enjoying the tale. I want to thank the many of you that have written to express your thoughts. For the rest of you, who want to write, or IM me, the addy is Justin69SK@aol.com I love getting your letters and hearing from you. Until the next time, as always, but not forever, just, Justin<
Well, like I was saying, I felt a certain agony the rest of the day. I really am sorry to leave you all hanging like that, but I had to wait until Mr. Furey had read what I had written. No sense in going on with the story, if he wouldn't accept it. Right? I just got my paper back, the first two chapters in fact, with comments. God, I hate red pens.
I couldn't believe it; do you know what Furey said to me? He handed me my paper, he looked up from his desk, and his blue eyes seemed to soften. He had made each one of us come to the front of the class one at a time to get our papers back, while we were reading `Breakfast of Champions' by Kurt Vonnegut. That was our first semester's reading assignment, which went along with this yearlong paper. I guess that's why they call this AP English comp and literature, we have to write and read. As I was saying, he sat perched upon his seat, behind the big, olive drab green desk that faced kitty cornered towards the students. It was strategically placed near the doorway to the hall, he handed me my paper and his eyes seemed to tear into me, but they were not angry.
Mr. Furey's face froze while his eyes softened, it let me know he was pleased before he said, "Jacob, I want you to keep working on this, but do not discuss it with any student. I think you have a wonderful beginning, and we need to work on some sentence structure, but overall this paper shows emotion. I think, someday you may become a very talented writer, if you need any help whatsoever let me know. The way you are able to paint a picture with the words is half the battle, the other half is the technical stuff that I can teach you."
I trembled as he said it; I didn't know what to say. I really had expected him to lambaste me. I asked him about the sexual detail. I really wanted to be able to describe it as I remembered it, and in thorough detail.
"I understand, and you have my permission to write this paper however you feel. I can not stress enough though, that for your own safety and other obvious reasons, you are not to discuss this paper with any other student. Is that clear?" Mr. Furey was adamant.
I nodded, and walked back to my desk. I saw Linda Dailey as I walked across the classroom. My desk was the second seat back in the last row, nearest the windows, while Linda's was the front desk in the center row. I saw her sneering face, as she ran her right hand through her long brown hair, in what I imagined to be her way of hiding her contempt from Mr. Furey's view. As I climbed into my seat that was attached to the desktop, Linda stuck her tongue out at me and flipped me the bird; her back was to Mr. Furey.
I felt that hollow feeling I get when I'm scared, my stomach was doing triple flips. I don't know why she was able to get to me that much; I just turned away from her and stared out the window for a few minutes. Finally, I looked down at my paper, then decided I would wait to read the comments, and I slipped it into my notebook. I picked up the green and blue paperback written by Vonnegut and started reading it again. I wasn't able to concentrate though, my mind kept thinking about Linda and how much she seemed to hate me. As I tried to read the words in the book, I couldn't seem to focus. I closed the book, and for the first time, I noticed on the front cover the ever seeing eye with a single tear, pictured on the top. I felt that tear.
Enough of that, I'm getting all sappy and sentimental, not to mention off the track. I warned you, you can't say I didn't. I do have a way of getting all tangled up sometimes, in the words. Let's just get back to that Friday in April two years ago, where it all started.
We all went over to Champ's and as promised, he had a bottle of blackberry brandy. Champ wanted me to have the first drink. I watched him as he held his blue eyes on me most of the day, and kept wondering what it was he wanted to tell me. We all went down to the family room; it was in the basement of the Morins' house. It was comfortable, they had a sofa that was old and worn, but comfortable, and a couple of stuffed chairs. One of the chairs was a recliner; the other was a fireside chair. A twenty five-inch console television, complete with a VCR and Nintendo 64 game station, was against the back wall, directly in front of the couch.
Champ pulled the bottle of brandy out from under the couch. Bob was fiddling around with the N64 and the Madden 1999 football game, while sitting in the burnt orange recliner. Dane had picked up the other controller and sat in the brown chair that was on the other end of the couch. I was on the sofa next to Champ, he handed me the bottle, and his eyes seemed to be searching me. I felt his warm hand brush against mine as I took the booze from him.
"Here, Jacob, you go first." Champ smiled, the soft gentle tone in his voice made me sound like the most important person in the room.
I took the liter bottle and twisted the cap off; I held it by the neck and put my nose to the opening. The brandy smelled sweet, yet it opened my sinuses like when I smell gasoline, I felt it in the back of my throat. Its odor reminded me of cough syrup. I touched the bottle to my lips and tilted it upwards as I leaned my head back and took a healthy swig. Oh, it burned the roof of my mouth and throat as it slipped into my body. I felt a warmth from deep in my chest rise a few seconds later, my eyes began to water. The taste of blackberry was detectable, but lost with the physical sensations that the alcohol created.
"Whuuuahhh, cough, cough, that was potent, here, you go next and go easy." I fixed my brown eyes on him, and tried to put all the affection I felt for him into them, as I handed him the bottle.
We spent the next hour or so, all four of us, alternating gulps off the bottle. Even Dane, he seemed to like it the most. I was surprised that he drank as much as he did. We got silly, as the liquor took its hold on us. I had never felt so light headed and unsteady on my feet. I really didn't like the feeling that I lacked control of myself. It did seem to loosen all our tongues though, not that what most of what we said made much sense, the conversation didn't seem to stop.
I think the only thing that kept me somewhat in reality was my constant wondering what Champ wanted to tell me. As we took turns playing the game, Champ kept getting closer to me, and rubbing his thigh against mine. I couldn't help but let him, I was so attracted to him, and the feelings of his leg against mine were electrifying. I found myself constantly staring at him, and he seemed to be looking back at me every time, almost invitingly.
"Hey, we better get out of here, Melody and Margie will be coming home soon. I don't want to get caught, my mother would kill me," Dane broke in with during one of his and Bob's rematches on the N64.
"Yeah, let's go over your house, we can play Dream Cast for a while," Bob, the person who didn't like Dream Cast that morning said.
You know, as I think about it, Bob has always been one to be fluid. It's like he has chameleon in his genes; he can do or say whatever you want him to. It depends on what is most popular at any given moment that dictates him. At that particular moment in time, Bob was a Dream Cast fan, the way he made it sound, he always was too. I just had to call him on it, I don't know why, but like I said before, sometimes I just feel like I have to show people how ignorant they are.
"Gee, Bob, I thought you said earlier Dream Cast sucked," I challenged.
"Yeah, Bob, what's up with that?" Champ pursued the battle with me.
Bob didn't answer; he just threw the controller down and got up to leave. I figured it wasn't worth dissecting him, and decided to let him off the hook. I felt Champ's left hand on my upper thigh; he lightly squeezed his fingers against my leg. Almost, as if to say, `Let's leave him alone, I'm with you though,' is how I interpreted his gesture. I had to stand up, before my dick did, Champ may or may not have known he was flicking my sexual switches. I didn't want to risk my little friend rising to the occasion, so I followed Bob. Champ and Dane were right behind us as the four of us trudged up the stairs. The loud, echoing, clumping sound of our heavy feet on the wooden stairs was all you could hear.
It had gotten to be about eight o'clock. We played Dream Cast at Dane's until about four, then Bob went home for dinner; Champ and I went to his house. I had eaten dinner with the Morins again. After dinner, Margie and Melody did the dishes, while Champ, Norm, and I played N64. It was cool, no one except us four boys knew we had skipped school, at least then. We were playing one of the kiddy games, because Norm was only ten at the time.
"You guys wanna go out to the room?" Melody asked as she sat in the recliner.
"I don't care," I told her.
"Sure, I need a cigarette anyways," Champ admitted, as he put the game on pause.
"That's all you guys do is smoke, smoke, smoke. You know it's gonna kill you, it's bad for you, we learned it in DARE. I think I need one too. Shit," Norm complained as he pulled the turquoise pack of Newport cigarettes, with the white chevron logo, from his blue jeans pocket, "I only have a clip left."
"You shouldn't be smoking anyways, little brother. Where's your self esteem?" Champ teased, quoting the lingo of the DARE officer that we had all heard in fifth grade.
"I got your self esteem," the ten year old teary blue eyed, with the short dirty blonde hair, shot back, as he grabbed his privates and swiveled his hips, in an accentuated gyration.
"I seen your self esteem, and it ain't nothing to brag about, Normie," Champ laughed at his younger brother, as he teased.
"Like yours is, hell, I seen yours too." Norm kept the banter going.
"Enough already, you two. I could care less." Melody sharply, and emphatically, criticized her brothers.
We all herded together, and walked up the stairs into the kitchen; one by one we filed out the back door and headed to the garage. Bob joined us a little while later; he brought the dirty book with him. Margie and Dane showed up too, we all had a curiosity about sex, and were fixated on looking at the naked pictures of men and women. I felt a little uncomfortable, because Champ and Norm were looking at the nudies in front of their sisters. I don't think I could have done that in front of Joan, no, actually, I know I couldn't.
It had to be around nine thirty, the room was filled with smoke from all our heavy smoking. My head began to throb with a slight headache, I imagined it was from the drinking earlier. I was tired, and to be honest totally uncomfortable with the magazine. It just didn't seem to excite me like it did Bob. I kept wondering how much Champ liked it. He wasn't acting that enthused about it either; I kept feeling his eyes on me. He had managed to sit right next to me on the floor, and I kept feeling him brush up against me, just like he had done earlier.
I couldn't get out of my mind what he wanted to talk to me about; I kept wanting to scream out. I just wanted to be alone with him, once and for all, to find out what he wanted to say. I didn't know what I wanted to do; I just had a tremendous anxious feeling with the slight pounding in my head. I finally let out a loud and exaggerated yawn, I tried to be subtle, and wondered if Champ would pick up on my hint.
"Yeah, I'm tired too. You wanna go inside, Jacob? I'm exhausted," Champ nonchalantly mumbled.
"You boys tired? OOO, poor babies," Bob's voice rang in my ears.
"Well some of us have a life, ROBERT, I have to get up early tomorrow." I defended my boyhood with all my heart.
"Oh, I see, pardon the fuck out of me, Jacob's a busy man," his voice full of his shitty sarcasm, as he rolled his eyes behind those Coke bottle lenses he wore.
"How's your mother, Jacob?" Melody tried to rescue me.
"I think she's OK, just a little nervous. Joanie and I are taking her to the hospital at eleven tomorrow, she's only gonna be there a few days, not all week like Joanie made it sound." The words slipped from my tongue as I stood to leave.
"She'll be all right, it's nothing." Margie offered her confidence.
"Come on, Jacob, we can sleep in the family room," Champ announced, as he led the way out of the room.
A little while later, the two of us were camped out on the floor of the basement. I was tired, and my head was hurting, but I still wanted to know what he wanted to tell me. I lay on the blankets he had diligently put on the tiled floor, wishing it were carpeted, my hands behind my head. The only light came from the stairway; a small night-light cast its dull glow into the family room.
"What's it feel like when someone else touches your dick?" he whispered in the darkness.
"The other night, when you were in the room with my sisters. What does it feel like? They did touch you dick, didn't they?" he asserted.
"I don't know, good, I guess."
"I never had anyone touch me before, but I think about it all the time," his raspy whispers continued.
"I used to think about it too," I confided in him.
"Did you let them suck on it?" He could barely verbalize.
"Champ, what do you want me to say?" I tried to answer without telling him the truth.
"What did that feel like?" He seemed obsessed.
"All right," I shyly told him.
"Did you ever think about sucking another guy's dick?" he asked, the words cut through me like a razor.
"Did you?" I tried to keep on solid ground.
"You won't tell anyone?" he asked with all the seriousness he could muster.
"Nope, I would never tell anyone anything you tell me, Champ." I tried to build his confidence.
"Yeah, I have. I think about it a lot too," he confessed.
"Me too." I couldn't believe how easy my admission fell off my tongue.
My mind began reeling with thoughts, I think every emotion that possibly could be felt ran through my body. The throbbing in my head began to ease, as I thought about the conversation. I wanted to touch him, to feel his naked body against my own. I pictured his dick, the soft one, with a little hair, that I had touched those few days before, in my mind. I visualized my mouth sucking on his cock. I felt his hand as he put it on me; he rested it right on top of my cock as it began to swell.
"You want to?" The words quietly fell from his lips in the dimly lit room.
"If you want to." I couldn't stop my hand; I reached over to his body and felt his dick through the boxers he had on. I rubbed my hand up and down the front of the cotton, trying to picture what his hard on looked like.
"Oh, Jacob, that feels so good. I want to kiss you." He rolled to his side and put his lips against mine as he kissed me.
I put my arms around his bare back and pulled him towards me. I thrust my hips to his, and pushed my underwear covered hard dick against his pelvic area. I felt his hardness as he pushed it against mine. It was the beginning of a long night of sheer pleasure. The night that began this story. It was almost heaven to be with him. I had long forgotten my aching head; the pleasures he gave me took it away. It was the first time I had ever had an orgasm with another person, I guess you could say, it was the night I became a man.
We fell asleep in each other's arms several hours later.
Well now, there you have it. Was it good for you? Let me know your thoughts. I do this for you guys, I really do.
Thanks, Ed, for the edit.
But not forever,