Jacob's Life
Chapter 8


Written By: Justin Case
Edited By:   Ed


February 6, 2002


Disclaimer: This story contains sexually graphic material involving young teenage boys with other boys. It is a work of fiction created by the author, any resemblance to real people should be considered coincidence. If you are not of legal age to view this type of material you must leave now. If you find this kind of subject matter offensive, you are encouraged to read it, so you may become a more understanding human being. The writer, his editors, and publishers, accept no responsibility for the actions of the viewer. ©2002JCPCo all rights reserved.


SoapBox®: I sure do appreciate the letters I've been getting about this story. It lets me know my work is appreciated. I have to admit I often wonder if I'm any good at writing. Several of you seem to think so, and it's for you I'll continue to do what I like to do. I want to thank the many of you who've checked my website, and encourage you all to please leave a message on the newly created message board. The addy is http://Justinscorner.homestead.com for those of you that want to check out the site.

A little update on how I'm doing with my recent surgery. Many of you who follow my work remember I was injured in a work-related accident back in 2000. A ladder collapsed while I was on it, catapulting me to the ground from only about six or so feet high. At that time I had surgery to correct the badly fractured bone. Five stainless steel pins were screwed through my skin and tissue into the bone, the exterior ends of which were connected to four rods perpendicularly along the upper surface of my forearm. I was in that contraption for three months, as well as constant throbbing, pulsating, excruciating pain. Fun is!

I was told it would take a year to fully recover. Unfortunately, I continued to experience severe pain often, and had very little control of my left wrist. So, a year after the pins had been removed, and hundreds of vicadins later, I went back for an MRI. A torn ligament showed to be the cause of some of the pain, but still had the surgeon confused, because the ligament was on the inside of the forearm while most of my pain was on the outer side. X-rays were ordered, and a burr on the end of the bone near the healed fracture had developed, causing most of the pain.

I was told that to fix my wrist, and hopefully to alleviate most of the pain and give me back some of the mobility, more surgery would be necessary. This time I was going to be cut open, scoped out to locate the exact location of the ligament tear, and have the burr removed. Well, the ligament tear was on the inside of the bone, so an invasion would have to be made through the outer bone to get to it and fuse it back to its original location. That caused the outer bone to be cut and shortened, and replaced with a four-inch steel plate. I had this surgery done in the middle of December 2001.

I've been in a cast ever since, making typing very difficult, as well as all my regular routines. The cast will come off the first week of March; I can hardly wait.

I'd like to thank the guys who e-mail me often, asking how I'm doing. It sure does make me realize how much you care. I'd also like to express my gratitude to the many that write me just to say `hello'.

If you'd like to e-mail me, feel free, the address is Justin69SK@aol.com I love getting mail, and answer each and every one of the letters I receive.

Enough of my doldrums, let's get on with the story!

We must have fallen asleep from exhaustion, because the next thing I remember was hearing the morning birds chirping. I looked around in a half-dazed state and saw Dane and Champ, naked, sound asleep, and in each other's arms.

I sat there a few minutes, thinking about what we had done. I couldn't help feeling terribly guilty for having had sex with both of them, but most specifically what I had let Dane do. I mean it went against everything I had been taught. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't deny to myself that if we were found out it wouldn't be good. I thought about how I had been taught in Sex-Ed, that we should have safe sex. I thought about the lessons I had in Sunday School, years before, regarding pre-marital sex. The hardest pounding memory was the one I had been taught in church, saying `homosexuality was an abomination.'

My mind was a torrent of thoughts, as parts of my memories were like those from my upbringing, and others were from the newer things I had been taught. Things like; `You are what God made you,' `Celebrate diversity,' and `Zero tolerance against prejudice and bigotry,'

It didn't matter, none of it mattered, all I knew was how deeply shamed I felt from my actions. I had had sex, I allowed another boy to put his penis inside of me, and I didn't love him. I knew I liked Champ, but wasn't even sure if I loved him. I had let Dane have intercourse with me, for the sheer pleasure of it.

I quickly gathered up my clothes and frantically put them on. I left, my tears were stinging my cheeks in the bitter cold spring air, as the it rushed into my face while I ran all the way home. I couldn't accept that at fourteen years old, I had given away my virginity to someone I didn't love. I cried and cried, I asked God to help me be normal. I didn't want to be gay!

I flung open my back door and slammed it shut behind me, and stormed as quietly into my bedroom as possible. I didn't want Mom or Joan to see me. I quickly threw off my sneakers and jumped into my bed, and pulled the blankets over my head. I buried my face into my pillow and cried. I thought about Champ, I thought about Melody, and I thought about Dane. I wondered how I could have let myself do what I had done. The most tormenting thought I had was how I so desired to have Dane be a part of me as he probed my hole with his dick. It was almost as if the desire to have him deep inside me was instinctual, and animalistic.

I began to reason with myself that I am an animal, we're all animals. So the desires would be natural, because I certainly couldn't deny them. I thought about how intense the feelings welled up from deep inside of me, as the three of us lay next to each other, and Dane rubbed his small organ inside my ass cheeks. I remember feeling my asshole lubricate itself; I had never experienced that before. I figured, if my body knew what to do it had to be the way it was created.

I suddenly remembered something I had read in the paper a few weeks before. It was about some Bishop of the Episcopal Church, here in New Jersey. He wanted to write a new Bible. When I first saw the headlines, I thought it was crazy, so I read the story. This Bishop explained that the Bible was written eleven hundred years ago, and certainly was not written by God. He explained that the Bible was written by great philosophers as a way to teach things that man didn't understand. He said over and over again, that his God was a loving God, not one of hatred and punishment. I think the most perplexing thing he said was "Would you let a doctor, using an eleven hundred year old book, treat you?"

I remembered while I read the article it all made perfect sense. I mean my God is a loving God too. He was there for me when my father was thrown out. He had always been there for me, and he knew I was a good person.

I had finally settled myself down. The only ache I was left with was that I really thought I loved Champ, and didn't love Melody. I also didn't love Dane; I liked him, but could never let this happen again between him and me. I had to break up with Melody, but didn't know what to say to her. I had barely talked to her since the day I put my hands into Champ's pants. I mean we had talked, but not communicated.

I decided the best thing to say to Melody was that the experience of her and Margie in the room with Rob and Dane was confusing. I would tell her that I didn't know if I truly loved her. I wouldn't blame it on her; I would tell her she deserved someone better than me.

I sat up in my bed, and figured I'd take a shower. I grabbed a clean pair of boxers from my dresser and headed towards the bathroom. I heard Joanie call my name from her bedroom.

"Jacob, is that you?"

"Yep," I called over my shoulder as I reached the bathroom door.

"Thanks, Squirt, for coming home, I appreciate it. Can I get you something when I go out with Judy?"

"No, thanks anyways."

I closed and locked the bathroom door behind me. I looked at myself in the mirror; I was a mess. Streaks of white clung to my cheeks where the tears had dried, my eyes were all puffy and red, and my hair was all flattened out. I was feeling like shit too. I hoped a good hot bath would remedy what ailed my young frail body and mind. I reached over the tub towards its faucet, and turned it to its hottest setting, then pulled the drain stop so it would fill. I slowly took off my clothes and climbed into the hot water. I liked the feeling of the scalding water as it began to blanket my body; every muscle in my body seemed to relax as I allowed myself the pleasures of the bath.

"MMMmm," I moaned, as I closed my eyes to the serenity I began to feel in the tub.

I dozed off, and was startled when I heard Joan knocking on the door, calling to me, "Jacob, you all right? You're not sick, are you? You've been in there quite a while."

"Um, no, Joan, I'm sorry. I fell asleep in the tub. What time is it?"

"It's just now 11:00, I need to get in there real quick before I leave. Are you decent, can I come in?"

"Sure, Joan, come on in." It wasn't like she could see me, we did have a shower curtain, and we were brother and sister.

I heard her try to open the door, then remembered I had locked it. "Hang on, Joan, I'll be out in a second, sorry." I stood up; Joan said something, but the sound of the water splashing in the tub from my standing made it impossible to hear clearly.

I grabbed a towel and quickly dried myself off, pulled on my clean boxers, wrapped the towel around me and opened the door. Joan was standing outside of it; I could tell by the look in her eye, she was running late.

"I'm sorry, Joanie."

"Don't worry about it, I'm just a little stressed. Did you hear me? Champ called a minute ago."

"No. Did he say what he wanted?"

"Just asked if you were here, and wants you to call him as soon as you can."

"Thanks, Joan," I said, and grabbed my dirty clothes and headed back to my bedroom.

"You guys are worse than girls, damn, you spent the night there and he already wants you to call," Joan called out and teased as she closed the bathroom door, and I reached my bedroom.

I knew he'd call, I hadn't quite figured out what I'd say. I just needed some time to think about everything. I couldn't exactly see him, like `see' him, for what seemed like justifiable reasons to me. The first one being, I was going out with his sister. The second one, and the more important one, I didn't want to be tempted any more. I wanted to be able to save myself for the person I loved and who loved me. I knew that I probably loved him, but he had only said he liked me.

It started another soul argument in my mind. I had only told Champ that I liked him. What if he didn't tell me how he felt for the same reason I didn't? Uncertainty! I wondered if he was just as confused as I was. He had to be, I mean he's only twelve and I'm fourteen, he was more than likely more confused and upset.

I gave in to my sudden burst of confidence, finished dressing, and went into the dining room where our classic black, wall hung, rotary dial phone was strategically placed in the `sixties.' Most people in Mayfield had several phones in their homes, not to mention cellies. Not us Mathers, no siree-Bob; Mom couldn't afford any luxuries, so we still had the home's original equipment. Including the ugly shag carpet that was matted down with its obvious age; that ran from the living room down the hall. No matter, it was our home and I felt safe there. It wasn't like any one ever said anything about these material things that I often thought about. I was probably the only one that felt self-conscious about the Mather home decor. I dialed the Morins' phone number and listened for someone to answer.

"Hello?" It was Melody.

"Hey, Mel," I greeted her casually.

"Jacob? How come you didn't stay for breakfast? I made a special one for you," Melody chirped with excitement.

"I'm sorry, I had to get home. My mother needed me, Joan's going out with Judy," I explained.

"Oh. Jacob, can I ask you something?" Melody continued the conversation.


"Are we OK? I mean. Is there anything wrong? Between you and I?" I could hear concern in her voice.

"Well, we do need to talk. It's just that... Well... I'm not sure I like you the way you deserve to be liked. I guess I began thinking about it after that night in the room." There was no turning back now; the words had been spoken. I held my breath while I waited for her reply.

"What does that mean, Jacob? The way I deserve to be liked?" She was obviously upset.

"I guess, I just don't treat you the way I feel I should treat someone I'm going steady with. I feel like I take advantage of you." It was true; I did use her in a sense to keep close with Champ. I mean when you're fourteen and in high school you don't belong hanging around with 12 year olds in junior high.

Silence, not a word was spoken for several seconds followed, it seemed like an eternity. Finally the phone went dead. She'd hung up on me. I knew it was really for the best, but I still felt bad about hurting her. I stood there for a moment, thinking about calling back and asking for Champ, but decided to wait.

"Jacob, there is some leftover stew in the fridge, you can heat that up for Mom. Oh, and there's some bread in the bread-box I bought at the bakery to go with it. I'm out." Joan called me back to reality.

I looked at the clock that hung on our kitchen wall. It was already twenty to twelve. So I went into the kitchen and began making my mother's lunch. I really was feeling better about myself. I was glad that I had finally taken care of one of my dilemmas. I was also home, cooking lunch for my mother, and it too seemed like the right thing to do.

While I heated the stew on the stove, I sliced and buttered some of the bakery bread. When the stew was hot, I put it in a bowl, on a tray next to the bread. I filled a glass of water, got a couple of my mother's pain pills out and put them on the tray too. I walked the meal down the hall and knocked on my mom's bedroom door.

"Ma, I got your lunch. Can I come in?" I asked through the closed bedroom door.

"Jacob? Is that you? Yes, come in." She seemed surprised it was me, and not Joan.

The tray had small fold up leg-like things. I unfolded them and set the tray on my mother's bed over her waist. Then I helped her adjust her pillows so she could sit comfortably, while she ate.

"Sit, Jacob," she said softly, as she motioned her hand towards the chair next to the bed.

I sat down and watched my mother as she ate the stew and bread. I hadn't noticed until then, how old she seemed to have gotten. I looked into her soft brown eyes and felt so loved. I hadn't felt like that since I was much younger. Her eyes had always seemed so tired and filled with anger the last several years, I avoided her.

"Jacob, I have some orange creams in my dresser drawer. Why don't you get us each one?" Mom asked, her voice sounded so weak.

Orange creams were my mother's weakness. She kept a box of them in her dresser at all times. When Joan and I were little, she'd give us one apiece for special occasions. I loved them as much as she did. The chocolate covered, citrus flavored cream candies seemed to be filled with love. I opened the drawer that held the box and took two candies out, one for her, the other for me. We ate them together. I noticed my mother smile as the candy melted in her mouth. It was the first time I had seen her smile in ages.

"Mom, can I ask you something?"

"Sure, Honey. What is it?"

"How do you know when you're in love?"

"Do you think you love someone. Jacob?"

"I'm not really sure. I don't know what it feels like," I explained.

"Jacob, love is the most elusive emotion known to man. I have heard lots and lots of different explanations in my life. I guess the only thing I can say about it is, when you're in love there is no other feeling like it. I think it's every emotion we have running at the same time. I love you and your sister so much I would die for you both. That's what love is to me, Jacob." She smiled again, and offered her hand to me.

I took my mother's soft warm hand into my own and held it, while I thought about what she had just said. I had never heard my mother say she loved me before, at least not that I could remember. I bent down and kissed her softly on her forehead.

"Now you run along, Jacob, let me get some rest. I feel so weak from the surgery, and I need my rest."

I picked up the tray and quietly left my mother to get her rest. I had never felt so close to her before. Flashes of Paula Crowley that day in Art class came flooding back to my mind. The day she said she couldn't believe I had parents. I pictured my classmate's blue eyes full of surprise as she realized I in fact had to have parents. `If Paula could see me now,' I thought to myself.

After I cleaned up the dishes from my mother's lunch, I decided to watch a little television. I had no sooner sat down on the dilapidated old couch than the phone rang. I immediately knew it was Champ calling. It was almost as if I had a sixth sense.

"Hello?" I said into the receiver.

"Jacob, what happened? You left without even saying good bye. Are you mad at me?" his young tenor voice, distraught, asked intently.

"Not mad, just confused, Champ," I spoke softly, so as not to wake my mother.

"Can I come over? Do you mind?" His voice was still sounding full of hurt.

"I guess. Sure, we just have to be very quiet."

"I'll see you in a few." He hung up before we even said goodbye.

I walked back into the front room, wondering how to explain how I thought I felt to him. I also hoped he'd make it easy for me and tell me he felt the same way. Whatever the outcome, I knew I had to do what was right for both of us. I half watched the television while I waited for Champ to arrive.

I thought about what my mother had said about love. I knew that I felt it around Champ. Whenever I was near him, he was all I could think about. I get butterflies, my heart pounds, I want to laugh and sometimes I want to cry when I'm near him. It had to be love, because I would die for him.

I began to get excited as I watched `Days of Our Lives' on the green television screen in our living room. I was filled with tension; my mind was too cluttered with thoughts of Champ to concentrate on the TV. So I shut it off and waited as patiently as I could for him to get here. I just prayed that he would feel the same way I did. Although, a little part of me said I was foolish to expect his love. He was only twelve, and I know I didn't love anyone when I was twelve. He was such a mature twelve though, and practically thirteen, I reasoned while I waited.


I sure hope Champ and Jacob can come to terms with their relationship together. We'll just have to wait and see. Thanks for following along with me. I hope you check out the new message board at my website and leave a message. The address is http://Justinscorner.homestead.com, click on the `Message Board' link button, and feel free to leave your thoughts, questions, or desires.

Thank you, Ed, for the fine edit.

As Always,

But not forever,