This story concerns teenage gay males who are involved in sexual situations. If it is illegal for you to read such stories, or if you do not like to read such stories, please leave now.

This story is copyright 2006 by the author who retains all rights.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

WARNING: This chapter contains the “N” word. Its place in the narrative is noted by “n_____”. I find it difficult to have bigots say nice words; and, in this instance, the person saying the “N” word is definitely a bigot. The word occurs only once.

This is my second submission to Nifty. This is a continuation of “Kiel’s Story” which was last posted on 7/24/06. It is not necessary to read “Kiel’s Story” before reading this, but it may help you understand where the character relationships started. Any comments or questions are welcome at:

A warm thank you goes out to all who’ve written. I appreciate knowing someone is actually reading this stuff. I try to respond to all, including flames, but time is precious in my life, so if I didn’t answer yours, please accept my apology.

Tim and the Corsair

by Carl Holiday

Chapter 12 – The Principal Reason

The Morning Herald article about Mark Patterson came out on Good Friday. The front page headline, in big, black, sans serif, said, “SHAME!” It certainly caught your eye. It caught a lot of people’s eyes.

That night, “North Park High School in the city of North Park, Washington,” was the lead-in on the Huntley-Brinkley Report. For a brief moment in time, North Park was on the minds of millions of television viewers across the nation. What most of the faculty, staff, and students at North Park High did to Mark Patterson was on the minds of a lot of parents of high school athletes. Changes had to be made. Those on the side of truth had won out again over those who preferred lies, deceit, and innuendo.

Monday morning everyone seemed to be at North Park High School, everyone that is except for Principal Jennings, his secretary, and six of Mark’s teachers. News reporters were everywhere trying to get interviews with students.

Home Room was extended to a full hour so all the students could attend an assembly in the auditorium. Half in the first thirty minutes and half later. The first assembly lasted forty-five minutes. That’s the one I was supposed to attend, but I ended up at both of them. I turned out to be one of the participants. It seemed to a lot of people I was the reason Mark Patterson nearly killed himself.

Boy’s Vice Principal William A. “Billy” Washington was the emcee.

“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. For those of you who do not know me, I am the Acting Principal at North Park High School. Former Principal Steven J. Jennings is no longer employed by North Park School District.”

(Pause for audience reaction; stunned silence mostly.)

“As I’m sure many of you are aware, North Park has been in the news very recently. We even made it on a couple national TV news programs.

“Now, I’m not going to bore you rehashing the Morning Herald article. It was very detailed and went to the heart of the problem. There are a lot of sick minds here and a lot of weak minds, too. The sick minds wanted someone removed from this school, the weak minds followed like sheep to slaughter. Unfortunately, I can count myself among the sheep.”

(Pause to allow students to consider whether they were a sicko or a sheep.)

“We’re gathered here, this morning, to lay down a few rules . . .”

(Dickie James, one of the worst sickos, raised his hand, then stood up. “You’re not going to allow that homo football player to come back, are you?”)

(A little laughter, possibly from the other sickos.)

“Ah, yes, Mr. James, I might have expected an outburst from you. Mr. Love, if you would be so kind and remove that person from this assembly. The paperwork is in the office, just fill in his name, call his parents, and we won’t be bothered by him anymore.”

(Pause to allow Dickie James to be escorted out of the auditorium.)

“I know you’re asking yourselves, ‘What’s become of Dickie?” Well, if he had waited until I laid out the new rules and considered his situation here at North Park, he might not have said what he did. Dickie James is being expelled from this institution; and, no, he will not be back next year. So, if there are any others who would like to make a similar statement, the paperwork is in the office, all you have to do is fill-in your name and we won’t have to worry about what you might say, either.”

(Pause to allow students to grasp the situation.)

“Good, now, let’s see, where were we, ah, yes, the rules. By the direction of the School Board, there will be no derogatory remarks directed toward Mark Patterson from this day forward. There will be no physical actions taken against Mark Patterson from this day forward. There will be no harassment, bullying, or physical attacks toward any other North Park student.

“This institution and the City of North Park are under a cloud of shame right now and it behooves you to understand now is not the time to think you are superior to any other person in this city or school. And, just to let you know, I’ve spoken to the other two high school principals in North Park and they will not be accepting anyone who is expelled from this high school. I’ve also spoken to a number of high school principals in Seattle and, well, you’ll have a hard time finding a welcome mat there. In other words, no one wants a bigoted troublemaker in their school. We don’t want you here, they don’t want you there.

“Now, any questions?

There were a number of questions. One dealt with Billy Washington’s ethnicity and whether “we white people” had to listen to him. That student was escorted to the office, as were a number of others who seemed to be in agreement. There were a couple comments directed toward me, giving me a hint why I was welcomed to the second assembly, and those individuals were escorted to the office.

Afterwards, everything seemed to settle down with some degree of uneasiness floating in the air. The school’s bullies acted big and tough for a while, then after an announcement over the school’s PA system that one of their number was now no longer a member of the student body, they seemed to be unsure what they were supposed to do, as bullies, that is. There were, of course, still bigots wandering the halls, sitting in classrooms, sitting behind teacher’s desks, and wherever else they hid, but they’d obviously gotten the message. Or, did they?

The Fairy Table was practically full when I got there with my tray. Girls. No, guys. Girls like fags, no threat. Girls are funny, too. You know they want your opinion on their boyfriend’s dick, but they just can’t get themselves to ask. Probably, because they’re afraid to find out he’s been cheating on the other side of the fence. Other than PE, where would I have seen their boyfriend’s dick? Monica wasn’t there. Alice Matthews, Brenda Robertson, Denise Connor, and Suzy Washington—who was not Billy Washington’s daughter, niece, or anything close, but they were related—sat in the first four places, with Denise and Suzy closest to me. We’d known each other since fourth or fifth grade. I guess the other two were hangers-on, because I didn’t really know them. Maybe, they knew Mark and were hoping he was going to come back.

I nodded, acknowledging their presence, but no one said anything, so I started eating my lunch.

I don’t think he knew I’d seen him coming my way. Jerry Arnold, jokester, fool, obnoxious bastard, the kind of kid who said he liked you but told the most disgusting queer jokes in school like, “Why can’t you let a fag change a light bulb? Because he’ll stick his cock in the socket and electrocute himself. Har! Har! Har!” He was carrying a tray full of food. He was walking toward me. He didn’t look around to see Billy Washington walk into the cafeteria.

“Hey, fag, compliments of the football team,” he said behind me.

I turned around and grabbed his crotch, getting his dick and balls in my fist, which wasn’t that difficult considering what Jerry had, or rather didn’t have. I squeezed as hard as I could. There was a slight whimper. I twisted my hand and tried to squeeze harder. The whimper was a little high in pitch, a little lower in volume.

“Why don’t you put your face in it?” I asked, trying to squeeze a little more.

“That’s enough, Geoff, I think Jerry’s got the message,” Billy said. “Here let me take that tray. Oh, and, Jerry, why don’t you come with me to the office. The boy’s who contributed to this tray of food are waiting for you.

“Oh, and, Geoff, come to my office after lunch. Okay?”

“Yes, sir.”

I defended myself. The old Geoff would’ve let himself be humiliated, but not the new Geoff. Only, I wasn’t certain the new Geoff could fend off every attempt.

“Very good, Geoff,” Suzy said. “And, thank you for not letting Jerry dump all that food on me, too.”

“Uh, no problem, I guess.”

“Yeah, Geoff, that was quite a hold you had on him,” Alice said.

“Oh, it wasn’t that much, really.”

“I bet his girlfriend doesn’t know that,” Brenda said.

We all laughed, plus the tables on either side of us. Too bad Jerry was going to be expelled, he was going to be the laughingstock of the school for quite a while. His poor girlfriend wasn’t going to fare much better until the word got around she’d dumped him and his little dick.

I sat there eating my lunch and looking at Mark’s empty chair. From what Doctor Randall said, Mark was having a little difficulty coming back to reality. Seems he might have gotten through the door, only to be pulled back, or, maybe, pushed out because it wasn’t his time. Anyway, he didn’t seem to like being back. A tear dribbled down my cheek.

“Are you alright, Geoff?” Denise asked. She had long black hair, black eyelashes, and the whitest skin of anyone I’d ever met and it was thick. There was a hint of blood vessels. Stark was a good word for her. She was short and slim with nice breasts, if I could be a judge of breasts. She was wearing a white blouse with a frilly lace collar.

“Yes, I’m okay, I was just thinking of Mark.”

“Is he okay? No one has said anything.”

“I don’t really know how bad it is. All I do know is he’s still in the hospital and he’s having a little trouble accepting the fact he lived through it. They won’t let me see him, right now.”

“What about that weird friend of his?” Alice asked. “He was always acting like Mark was his boyfriend, or something, and Mark isn’t even queer.”

“Yeah, what about that guy?” Brenda asked.

“He was sent to Western State for recovery and evaluation.”

“Wasn’t he Sam Black from over on Mallard Lake?” Denise asked.

“Yeah, that was his name,” Brenda said.

“Wasn’t he in trouble because of something he did to his sister?” Alice asked.

“I thought that had been settled,” Suzy said.

And, they went on talking, completely ignoring me. I finished my lunch and stood up.

“See you tomorrow, Geoff?” Brenda asked.

“Yeah, I guess, but why?”

“Why what?” Denise asked.

“Why are you sitting at the Fairy Table?” I asked.

“They moved the fairy over to the other atrium. It’s a dolphin, now,” Suzy said.

I looked and there was a marble dolphin standing where the fairy used to be.

“And, don’t give us that disgusted look. As far as the four of us are concerned, we’ll sit with you and Mark wherever you guys sit. Okay?”

“Sure, Suzy, thanks. Yeah, thanks, all of you.”

It seemed I had friends. They were all girls, but at that point in time I didn’t feel I could be choosy.

“I’m suspending you for the rest of the day,” Billy said.

“What? What did I do?”

“I think you’re smart enough to figure that out, after all you did sign the rules stating you read and understood them.”

“But, he was going to . . .”

“There are times when a physical response is appropriate and times when it isn’t. You’re lucky I don’t expel you, because I do have that option.”

“I think I liked you as Boy’s Vice Principal better,” I said getting to my feet. I reached across his desk and we shook hands. It was as firm as I expected.

“I’m not settling for a handshake, not between friends like us,” Billy said coming around the desk and wrapping his arms around me into a hug. I felt his cock pressing against my abdomen, it was hard. His right hand descended to my ass and he pulled me into him. He started to move his hips rubbing his cock against me.

“Ah, shit!” I said.

“I know you’re sexually active, so how about a quick blowjob?” Billy said. He released me, but we stood close enough for me to easily bend down and take him in my mouth. He unzipped his slacks and took it out. “Go ahead, I know you want to.”

“No, no, I don’t, no,” I said. I didn’t want to. It was as simple as that. He was my Principal for god’s sake. I kept staring at it. It was long, thick, and cut. I turned to leave, but Billy grabbed my arm.

“Wait! Come on, Geoff, quit struggling. I’m not going to hurt you.”

He let go of my arm and put his dick back where it belonged. I was scared.

“Hey, Geoff, buddy, calm down,” Billy said, putting an arm across my shoulders, buddy like. We were buddies. Only, I felt more like a victim. Why me? Why did this shit always happen to me? “Now, Geoff, I’d appreciate if this didn’t get out of my office, if you know what I mean.”

“Sure, I don’t want anyone to know, either,” I said. I felt him pat my ass like I was a football player or something, only his pat was more of a lingering caress. I stepped away from him and went out the door.

Monica and four other cheerleaders were in the school office. All of them were wearing their spirit sweaters with the silver football very prominent over their left breasts. Poor Monica didn’t have a clue. I smiled.

“What are you doing here?” She asked.

“Tried to rip Jerry Arnold’s balls off,” I said. “I’ve been suspended for the rest of the day. What are you doing here?”

“All of a sudden people don’t like us wearing our spirit sweaters with the silver football,” she said, indignation wrapped around her words. “We’re supporting the Coach and the players Mark turned in.”

“Still supporting them after all the newspaper articles, the television reports, and the assembly this morning?”

“What newspaper articles? Marsha, do you read the newspaper?”

“Why?” Marsha English said. Why indeed? The others nodded that the news was something they left for more intelligent people.

“What about the assembly this morning?” I asked.

“Oh, we had a cheerleader meeting this morning that was way more important,” Marsha said. She was head cheerleader. More like head dummy.

The other cheerleaders came in and two of them had their pom-poms. They were freshmen and had to do all the silly rah-rah shit.

Billy walked out of his office and stared at me. Then he noticed the forever smiles on the girls. “Geoff, I thought I sent you home?”

“I was just wondering why no one told the dense team,” I said. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Come on into my office, girls, time for a little explanation of why you’re wearing your cheerleading gear,” Billy said.

“Where’s Principal Jennings, n_____?” Marsha asked.

If Billy could’ve turned a brighter shade of livid, I’m sure he did, but his black skin did a good job of camouflaging his immediate reaction. I looked at him and smiled. He smiled back like we were still friends.

I didn’t feel like riding the bus home. The four mile walk was going to do me good. I stopped by Johnny’s fifth period class and told his teacher to tell him I was being sent home early.

Maybe, I should have taken the bus because when I got to the railroad crossing at One Hundred Twenty-third I paused for a long moment. I don’t know if I was lost in thought, or that dark part of my mind was taking opportunity at hand and stopped my leg muscles from working. I was thinking hard about what to do about Billy. Something had to be done, but it would be my word against his. I was screwed no matter what happened.

I didn’t hear the train. They don’t go that fast anyway. It’s just a local that was put in around the turn of the century to serve the foundry, rolling mill, and sawmill, then other businesses that saw the advantage of locating next to a railroad.

A cop pulled me out of harm’s way at the last moment. The train was in emergency, but it wasn’t going to come to a complete stop for at least a couple hundred feet. The cop and I were sitting on the ballast as the train went by, brakes screaming. I knew him, but couldn’t remember where we’d met.

“Okay, do I call your psychiatrist, or take you down to the station?” He asked, helping me up to my feet.

“Why?” I asked. Honestly, I didn’t realize what just almost happened.

“The train, Geoff! The train!”

I looked at him and then it came to me.

“Look, I’ve got a problem . . .”

“No, kidding.”

“No, I wasn’t trying to commit suicide.”

“It certainly looked like it.”

“No, I wasn’t. Honest. It’s something else, entirely, different.”


Well, I didn’t want to reveal my sexual orientation. You just don’t go around telling people you’re gay. You never know who you’re going to run into, especially in a town where the last fag nearly died. I could’ve said, “My Principal just propositioned me,” but it was his word against mine and I was a known crazy. They’d say I imagined him asking for a blowjob and taking out his dick, which wasn’t that bad other than it was attached to my Principal, even if he was only Acting.

The train crew arrived and the officer suddenly became very busy placating them over my attempt to ruin their afternoon. That’s the biggest problem with using a train to commit suicide. There is someone sitting in the driver’s seat. Someone who has to try to stop the train before it sends you to eternity. That someone also has to get out and see how many body parts you’re missing and whether you’re gone, or simply going as blood unstoppably seeps out of multiple wounds. They get very angry when you get out of the way at the last moment. In some ways, it’s as if they wished they’d hit you because in all likelihood the expression, “Ah, shit!”, is meant to be taken quite literally, as far as they are concerned.

Wisely, I tried to make myself as insignificant as possible and walked over to the police car. Another car drove up and Officer Tomlinson got out. He looked at me and shook his head. He held the back door of his car open and I got in.

I wondered if anyone was going to believe me. It certainly looked like I was trying use a train for the ultimate end, but I didn’t think I was. Of course, there was that dark part of my mind that wanted to die, no matter what drugs Doctor Randall gave me or what we discussed at our sessions. About the only thing that we’d been able to do so far was compartmentalize that area and try to build good thoughts around it. Sort of like, have a bad thought, immediately think a good thought, or two or three. Kind of like putting up mental fences around an internal ogre that wanted my body turned into a lump of flesh sitting in a puddle of blood, Geoff Tartare.

Officer Tomlinson got back in the car and turned to me. He looked unhappy. Well, he had a right to be disappointed.

“I’ll take you home,” he said and turned around.

Needless to say, Doctor Randall was not happy to see me get out of a police car. He was even less happy when I was escorted to the door by Officer Tomlinson. He was even more unhappy when he was told I almost stopped the Monday afternoon freight, permanently.

“Go to your room, we’ll talk about it in a little bit,” Doctor Randall said and sounded just like a dad. I was impressed.

I tried to look properly chastised and went into the house. Now, was not the time to argue. Of course, I had been standing on the tracks, that was a given. Why I stopped on the tracks was beyond me. The man asked for a blowjob. It was as simple as, “Hey, gay boy, suck my cock.” At least he didn’t tell me to bend over for a couple swats, then try to shove that thing in where it really belonged. That certainly happened to me on a more regular basis than a request for a blowjob, which hadn’t ever occurred, ever, even from the few gay boys I knew. No one came up to me and said, “Hey, Geoff, how about showing me how good a cocksucker you are.” No one, ever.

I was sitting on my bed when Doctor Randall knocked on my door jamb. That was encouraging, this wasn’t going to be the kind of visit that ended in swats, or at least I hoped so. He did have a syringe and a bottle of the clear, yellowish stuff, nighty night Geoff medicine, super sedative stuff. I’d have to present a good story, or it was going to be a long nothing.

“I didn’t purposefully try to have the train hit me,” I said when he sat down beside me and placed the syringe and medicine on the other side of him. “I was thinking about something and the next thing I know is I’m sitting beside the tracks with a policeman as the train screamed by.”

“Why are you home early?” That was a good place to start. I hadn’t thought of it, but I guess if you’re in the crazy person business establishing a reason for a suicide attempt is the first thing you go for.

“I was suspended for the afternoon,” I said, trying to smile. We were close to why I stopped on the tracks. He was going to get me to tell him. It was going to be my word against Billy’s and I was going to be in big trouble, syringe trouble.

“Do you mind telling me why?”

“Things changed at school this morning.”

“I know, I talked to the new Principal, who sounded a lot like the old Boy’s Vice Principal.”

“One and the same, but then he must have told you why I’m here and not, uh, well almost getting on the bus right now.”

“Don’t get smart with me.” Where the hell did that come from? I wasn’t being a smartass, or at least I hoped I wasn’t sounding like a smartass. Smartasses got needles stuck in their arms.

“Jerry Arnold, who can be a real prick sometimes, tried to dump a tray of food on me and I grabbed him in the crotch. I did a good job, too. Except, Principal Washington was there and saw me do it.”

“Got him good, huh?”

“Yeah, he’ll have blue balls and not from dry humping his girlfriend. Anyway, with the new rules I wasn’t supposed to do that. I wouldn’t have done it a month ago, but I did it and I feel good the way I reacted to his threat.”

“For what it’s worth, Principal Washington and I agree with you, but that wasn’t what you were thinking about. Was it?”


“Mind telling me?”

“Did Principal Washington tell you anything?”

“Should he have?”

“I don’t know. I guess it depends on how you look at it?”

“Look at what?”

“Maybe you should just give me the injection. You’re going to do it anyway.”

“The injection is not for punishment. It’s to keep you from doing something stupid, again.”

“I didn’t stop on the tracks on purpose.”

“You already said that.”

“I wasn’t thinking about getting suspended, grabbing Jerry, or anything else.”

“Come on, Geoff, you know it’s going to burn a hole in you. You know you’re not safe until you get it out.”

“If I tell you, you have to believe me. I didn’t imagine it. Or, I don’t think I imagined it. Today’s been kind of stressful for someone who is different and everyone suddenly knows why.”

“It’s not because of that stress, is it?”


He raised his eyebrow, waiting for an explanation. I felt tears in my eyes. This was just like the time my Dad talked to me about throwing rocks at passing cars and running away, only I didn’t run fast enough.

“Okay, I guess you might as well get comfortable,” he said standing up and taking the syringe and medicine with him. “Go ahead and get ready for bed, you’ll be there awhile.”

“No, I don’t need that stuff,” I said through tears dribbling down my cheeks. “I know you’re not going to believe me. You talked to the Principal already, but he didn’t tell you he propositioned me.”

“He what?!!” Doctor Randall was down on the bed in dad mode.

“After he suspended me, I shook his hand, but he said he wanted a hug. Hugs are innocent, they’re meant to make you feel good. I don’t mind getting hugs, only I could feel his erection pressing against me and he grabbed my ass pulling me harder against him. Then he took it out and told me, no asked me, or I can’t remember how he said it, but he wanted a blowjob and he said he knew I was sexually active. I know you won’t believe me, but that’s what I was thinking about. I said no, if it matters.”

“The dirty fucking bastard!” Doctor Randall exclaimed. Then he stood up, picked up the syringe and medicine, and started walking toward the door. Then he stopped. “As long as you’re home early, Mark wants to see you. Go to the hospital and talk to him. Maybe it’ll make you both feel good.”

And, he was gone.

I hadn’t seen Mark since that morning when he called and we saved Sam and him from certain death. There was still a lot of bruising around his neck and there was a bandage circling his neck where the rope must have dug into the skin. He was going to have a permanent reminder of his failed attempt at hanging. In a way, I thought he was lucky because as a jumper I was unlikely to have any permanent reminder of my failed attempt because jumping was almost a certain deal, especially if you remember head first. Of course, there were a few who survived, those who chose water over land and hit at such an angle their legs weren’t driven up into their torso, their lungs didn’t collapse, or they simply weren’t high enough.

He looked sad, the sadness of not dying, of not making it, of not having the correct credentials when you showed up at the door. I smiled and placed my hand on his right knee. He looked up at me, as if he hadn’t noticed I entered his room.

“Hi,” I said.

Mark smiled a little. Then the shadow descended and he fell into his gloom.

“Doctor Randall said you wanted to see me,” I said. I was lightly massaging the lower thigh, just above his knee, far from anywhere serious.

Mark smiled, again. It was the smile of someone caught doing something wrong and hoping a little smile might ease the coming punishment. He looked about seven years old, very innocent, shy, unsure of his place in the reality he didn’t escape.

“I’m sorry I did this to you,” he said. I stared at him uncertain what he meant. Could it be his love for me never faded; or, maybe at the last moment he realized that my love for him was a whole lot better than what Sam was offering.

“I don’t understand,” I said slowly moving my hand upward and inward allowing my fingers to lightly knead the sensitive skin of his inner thigh.

“If you keep doing that, you’re going to have to do something,” he said, smiling a little more.

“Speaking of doing something, guess who asked me for a blowjob today,” I said, inching my fingers and thumb toward the open fly of his pajamas.

“I haven’t the foggiest idea,” he said, placing his hand on mine, then picking it up and placing it over his half hard cock. Then his eyes went empty as if his brain couldn’t think anymore. I felt his cock soften and shrink away from my hand.

“Mark, I still love you. I never stopped loving you.”

He smiled and his eyes brightened somewhat.

“I don’t know what to do,” he said. There were tears in his eyes, but I wiped them away with a tissue.

“It’s going to take time, lot’s of time, don’t hurry your recovery,” I said, brushing the back of my fingers across the poorly shaven stubble on his cheeks.

“He made me do it. I didn’t want to. He said some things about you.”

“Mark, please, not now, that’s between you and Sam if we ever see him again.”

“But, I didn’t want to. You said you forgave me, I didn’t have to do it then.”

“What exactly was I forgiving?”

“Me, for staying with Sam. He said you didn’t love me, but were just using me for sex. He said that when Tim comes back, you’ll completely ignore me. I told him you weren’t like that, but he made me believe him.”

“And, that was by?”

“When you didn’t complain when we stopped having sex.”

“But, you were upset Sam took off.”

“He came to me and I helped him. I believed him. I thought I loved him. He put the rope around my neck and pushed me off the ladder. I didn’t do anything. Don’t you see? I didn’t do it. It was Sam.”

He was crying now, bawling. I leaned in and held him showing him I still loved him, no matter what Sam did to him. What was it going to be like to be forever marked as a suicide survivor when in fact he hadn’t tried to commit suicide? First impressions can be lasting and who wants to walk around giving everyone the wrong impression. Mark was going to need a lot of help in the days, weeks, and months ahead. I hoped I could be there for him, but I knew if Tim showed up tomorrow very little of my attention would be focused on Mark’s needs.

A nurse came in and asked if he needed a hypo, but I said he’d be okay in a little bit. I said he told me what happened. She smiled. She knew what that meant. She shut the door when she left.

Mark was quieting down as great gut wrenching sobs began to overcome the loud crying. I tried to soothe him, kissing his tear stained cheek, caressing his neck, and allowing my other hand to be placed on his flaccid cock. He slowly quieted down as his cock grew. He was still whimpering when I wrapped my lips around the familiar head laving it with my tongue. He stiffened quickly and as the whimpering softened the first wad of come spewed into my mouth coating my tongue. I swallowed as they came, milking his erection with my hand until he had nothing more to give.

“Feel a little better?” I asked before kissing him lightly on the lips.

“A little, so who asked you for the blowjob?”

“You are feeling better,” I said, pressing my lips against his, taking his tongue into my mouth. I pulled away and kissed his forehead. “The Principal.”

“Old man Jennings?”

“No, Billy Washington. Jennings is gone for what he did to you. Didn’t you see your article?”

“No, did it come out?”

“Yeah and North Park made the national news. I think everyone of your teachers is gone, too.”

“So, did you suck him?”

“Why would I do that? Not the way he came on to me.”

“How about if he kissed you first?”

“Well, maybe if he groped me a little, too.”

“You’re a sex fiend, you know that?”

“No, I just miss making love to someone who is very close to me.”

We kissed hard and long until we heard a knock on his door. We were still putting ourselves back together when Doctor Randall walked in. His right hand was in a cast.

“What happened to you?” I asked.

“I busted his jaw, the fucking bastard,” Doctor Randall said. “And, he won’t be giving you any more problems.”

“You hit Billy?”

“Teach that son of a bitch to proposition one of my boys,” he said. “Broke my hand, too.”

He held out the cast for me to look at. His fingers were immobilized. He looked rather bad.

“Too bad it’s your right hand,” I said. “If you’d hit him with your left, you’d still be able to jack off.”

“What makes you think I’m not left handed?”

“I want you to marry Mother soon, I want to start calling you dad, okay?”

He put his arms around me and hugged me close.

“Now, what’s with my favorite patient?”

“Mark told me what happened,” I said. “He cried for a long time and I held him.”

“Mark, I surprised in you,” Doctor Randall said. “All this time I’ve been trying to get you to open up and the first thing you do is tell Geoff. What’s he got that I don’t have? No, wait, let me rephrase that.”

“It’s alright Doctor Tim,” Mark said. “Geoff loves me, really loves me. You’re just my shrink.”

“So, Doctor Geoff, what did you find out that I wasn’t able to?”

“Well, Doctor Randall, it’s worse than we thought.”

“Wait a minute, Geoff, why do you call him Doctor Randall when all the kids I know call him Doctor Tim?”

“Because when I started seeing the good doctor, Tim was not my boyfriend.”

“That’s when he forced you to have sex with him, right?”

“Yeah, that’s, uh, the, uh,” I broke down. I sat down on the edge of Mark’s bed and leaned over onto to his shoulder and started to cry.