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Any use of real places, events, corporations or products within this text are strictly for the purpose of adding realism and authenticity to the writing. Critiques are always welcome. Also, please let me know what you think of the format. If you want more information about any rodeo events, there are tons of resources online.
Written exclusively for Nifty Archives. This story involves sexual relationships between boys, aged 15 and older. If this is illegal in your area, please do not read on. This story is work of fiction. Any similarities between real places, people, and events is completely coincidental and unintentional. If you read the archives frequently, then you know the drill. Take the rest with a grain of salt. This story is (c) 2007-08, Milos. All rights reserved! Please do NOT repost this story without permission.
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It's really too early in the morning for this shit. I've just walked into the barn and Jason's blasting the stereo. He kinda dances up and down the isles while he works from stall to stall.
I can hardly make sense of myself. Or last night. I'm so tired I feel like I'm floatin' above the ground. Dragging the tips of my toes along with me. I had to walk home because I couldn't wake Jeff up. And my butt hurts. It's not like a stinging or anything, just a hollow ache. A sadness of sorts, because Jeff was in me. Shared himself. I don't know how to feel about any of it.
It's not fun walking home with your ass hurting. I'm dragging ass, too. I'm tired, a little cranky, irritated, sore, my head hurts and I just want to curl up in my own bed and hide from the world.
I push the muck cart back into the isle. I break the bale with a pitchfork, start spreading hay around Smokey's stall. I turn to the right a little, see Momma standing by the door in my side vision. She's got her hands on her hips, like she's about to make a point of something. Great. Just, fucking great.
"So, where the hell were you last night?" She crosses her arms.
I look over at her really quick, then get back to the hay like it's no big deal. "I was at Jeff's."
"I thought you said you were going to the bowling alley. Chase and I went to Safeway to rent some movies last night. Decided I'd check in on you."
Jesus jumped-up Christ. I just stand up. Face her. I probably look like a deer in the headlights.
"I thought that's what Jeff was talkin' about. Turns out his neighbor has the new Nintendo system. It's got bowling on there. They have these controllers that can tell you're movin' em. So it's like you're really bowling. We ended up doing that instead." She's not going to buy this.
"Are you lying to me?"
"Why didn't you just call me and let me know?"
I look at the floor. "Sorry. I guess I was just caught up in the game."
"Why didn't you just go to the alley? It's more fun than some stupid video game."
"Yeah, but the TV game doesn't charge by the round. They've got Tennis and Boxin' and stuff on there, too."
She sighs. "Okay. Just you remember this next time. I want a call if plans change."
She pauses. "You look owly."
"We didn't sleep much."
"Well, after you're done with your chores, I want you in bed. I don't want you fightin' with your brother or sister because you're being awnry."
She walks up. Hugs me. "You smell like cigarettes."
Fuck. "Jeff's mom smokes like a chimney."
"Hmm. Okay." She slaps my on the butt. "Get your stuff done." She walks out, spots Jason dancin' around down the hall. She looks back at me with a smile, nods toward him. She walks up to the stereo, pulls the plug.
Jason stops, turns around like he's pissed. Like it was Chase or me that done it, and he's gonna slap someone around. He stops, blinks at Momma. "Mom!"
She cackles. Plugs it back in.
# # #
Richard Kelly spent a few years as a rodeo clown in his mid-twenties before he got into raising livestock. He met his wife, Grace Whithers, at a rodeo in Riverton, Wyoming. Much later, after they were wed, Grace knew 681 was trouble from the instant he was unloaded from the truck and put with the other cows in the pasture.
Grace W. Kelly is of no particular relation to the 1950's American actress Grace P. Kelly. At least I don't think she is.
# # #
I stare at the clock. Just wait for the big hand to strike the thirty. Wait for the bell. It's taking forever. Almost lunch time, then I won't have to be here. This dull classroom. Cinderblock cage with white-washed walls. Fluorescent death-rays. No windows. Dull brown carpet. Desks dirty, grafitti all over them. Pistachio green filing cabinet in one corner. Smells like a dank basement. There's a set of double doors that lead to a storage closet. The room's right next to the small gym, and they keep the mats for wrestling locked in there. What a shitty place for a geometry class. Shitty little room. Shitty teacher. Shitty feelings.
My mind's been runnin' like a wild hound all week. I can't wait for Friday afternoon. To be free for two more days. Just to be stacked with five more back-to-back days of hell. Might not be so bad if I wasn't in this particular classroom. Feels claustrophobic.
The bell chimes. Everyone in the class tries to get out, leave like a prison full of inmates escaping through a wide-open door. I'm at the back of the room. I can get out pretty quick, if needed. Three more classes left, then I get to go home. I've got homework, but hell, at least it's anywhere but here.
I turn a corner, go up the steps, walk down the hall. People have this way of lookin' at you that makes you feel guilty 'bout all sorts of things. I guess nobody knows what's up with me and Jeff. If they did, I'd probably already be dead.
I spot Jeff comin' from the other way. We lock eyes. Feels dangerous. He doesn't grin at me like he normally would. Just stops in front of me. "Off to lunch?"
"Umm, yeah." I've gone the whole week without seein' him, and he pops up now. Suddenly.
"What's your deal?"
"Feel funny. Don't know."
He scratches his arm. "Follow me." Nods forward.
"Why? Where're we goin'?"
"Gonna come or not, Susan?" He starts walking forward, bumps my shoulder when he passes by.
I shrug to myself. Figure I might as well.
We walk down the hall, toward where the old pool used to be. They closed it down in the eighties because someone tried to dive off the balcony. They missed the water and killed themselves, landed on the deck. Momma remembers it, she said it was in the newspaper 'bout the time Ronnie was born.
The hallways are clearing out. Jeff turns into this recess that joins the hall. There's a set of double-doors in there. They've always been locked, never even seen what's inside. I always figured it was a janitor closet or a boiler room or something. Jeff pulls out his wallet. Gets out this thing that looks like a cut up credit card. Cut in the shape of an L. He puts it through the crack of the door, slides it down and pulls it back toward him. The door opens a crack.
He hisses like an angry rattlesnake. "Shhh! Can it, Susan!" He pushes me through the door into the darkness. I just stand there. He closes the door behind him, shuts it quiet-like. I can't see anything but a strip of light on the floor, reflecting on the white tile. Jeff brushes past me, I hear him rubbing something. Suddenly, a light comes on. The light's soft, coming from around the corner. It's still pretty dark, but we can see where we're going. Not sure what this is until we walk around the corner and down the steps.
We come into a large room, bout the size of the gym. Big empty concrete pit, painted blue, four thick black lines across the bottom. Boxes, desks, chairs, filing cabinets. In the pool there are big steel drums in the shallow area. About fifteen of them. Some covered in tarps. One of the barrels has [Br]-Bromine stenciled on the side.
"Dude, we're gonna be in deep shit if we get caught in here."
Jeff shrugs. "We're not gonna get caught. They only come in here once or twice a year." He pulls my arm. "Come on."
I have a bad feeling about this. About being caught in here. He leads me into this little room off the deck. An old coach's office or something. There's a couch someone shoved in here without much thought. It's up against the desk at a weird angle. He pushes me down on the couch, takes off his backpack and sets it down next to the desk.
He walks over, works my pants off.
# # #
Ronnie's outta town looking at a college in Idaho he might go to this spring. He took a few months off after graduating. To catch his breath. Help his family out with the horses for a little.
Mattie and I are watching movies, since there's nothing else to do this time of year. Guess I could be out fartin' around with Brooke, but I really don't want to be seen out and about. Don't want a run-in with Jeff. When we make love, I love him. Other than that, I love to hate him. We don't talk like we used to. And right now, I'm prefectly happy sitting here with Matthew. I feel safe. For now.
Mattie's mom is cooking a few pumpkin pies. Trying a new recipe or something. It smells good, the scent just flowing through the house. In another hour, I'd be willing to bet she'll invite us upstairs to a big slice and a tall glass of milk. I love this time of year, what with all the cookin'.
I put my head on Mattie's shoulder, like he's done so many times before. Hold his arm. He breathes in like I surprised him. He puts his cheek against the top of my head. "What's wrong?"
"I feel funny."
"You getting sick or something?"
I sigh. "No... no."
"What is it?"
"I feel... Hell, Mattie, I haven't felt like myself in a long time." I nuzzle his neck for some reason. My safety, my rock. "I'm just so fuckin' confused about everything."
"Wanna talk about it?"
"Why not? Did I do something?"
"No, Mattie. I can't drag you into this thing."
"Are you in trouble?"
I sit up, face him. I keep him close. "Over my head, but I'm not in trouble. I mean, I prolly would be if people knew what was going on, but..." I shrug. "I don't know what."
He cocks his head to the side. "Shit. Did you get Brooke pregnant?"
I feel my eyes open wide, like I'm giving him the what the fuck's wrong with you stare. "I'm not dunkin' those donuts, dude. I like Brooke, but not that much."
Mattie grins big, laughs. It's the first my heart's felt at home since I first saw Jeff. First time since my world turned upside-down. "Is it a secret?"
"That's what best friends are for. For secrets." He nudges me.
"I reckon so."
"Aint you gonna tell me?"
"Mattie, it's a secret!"
He frowns. "Why not?"
"What about Joey then?"
He sits back a bit. "What about her?"
"Well, you told me you tell her things you can't tell me. What was it?"
He sighs and looks off at the wall. Got him in his own trap.
"Mattie, have you ever kissed someone?"
He looks at me. "Nobody oustide'a my family. I mean, not kisses like that, but..." He stalls. "Why?"
"What do you think it's like? Kissing someone?"
"Well, you kissed Brooke. You should know."
"That's different. It was a kiss on the cheek at best."
He scoffs. "If that's what you wanna call it."
"What the hell's that supposed to mean?"
He leans forward, rests his elbows on his knees. "Dude, you were tasting her tonsils."
"You always watch people making out?"
"Besides, she kissed me. I'd have been fine with a kiss on the cheek." We sit in quiet for a minute, just think between ourselves. "Is there anyone you ever wanted to make out with? Just to do it?"
He blushes. "I guess."
"What'd you think it'd be like, kissing that person?"
"Close your eyes, just think about it. What would it be like?"
Now Mattie's a chameleon. He matches the maroon throw pillows on the couch.
I nod him on.
He closes his eyes. "Umm..." Sighs. "Soft lips. The most gentle kiss in all of Montana. Something that I'd never be able to forget. Eyes as green as... as a pine forrest."
He's thought about this before. "You think that's how a kiss should always be?"
He opens his eyes, nods his head. "It's the way I always imagined it'd be. What'd it be like for you?"
I close my eyes. Picture Jeff the first time we kissed, when we shot-gunned. The warm light of the afternoon. I feel my heart beating, a warm feeling crosses my body. I remember back to a time when Jeff was a dream. Out of my reach. A figment of my perverted imagination. "Brown eyes, like a sunset on fire. Soft lips, warm skin. Warmth all over, I guess. Like we're connected somehow. Like this could be the one I'm with forever. Like in the DIsney fairy tales we watched when we was kids."
Mattie squeezes my hand. I can't think like this anymore, use Mattie as a mask for Jeff. He doesn't deserve it.
Thoughts of Jeff flicker in my mind, the best of him, the worst of him. It's all real now, out of my head, bending me to his own twisted mind. I'm starting to freak out. "Forceful. I can't decide, make up my own damn mind. Won't let me. It's all I see, it's too much. It's suffocation, Mattie. Pressing... against my... my face hard. Skin like sand paper. I can't do it... Why, Mattie?" I'm starting to get worked up. I can hear it in my own voice, that I'm gonna cry if I keep at it. "Wh-- why..."
Mattie whispers. "Lem." I feel something brush my bottom lip, softly. I open my eyes and find him staring at me. He's got his thumb on my face, runs it across my lip. He reaches my cheek and puts his whole hand on the side of my face.
"Why's it gotta feel so different than I thought it would, Mattie? Why do I hurt so much inside?" I squint a little, let the tear out of my eye. Feel it roll down my face, stop at Mattie's hand. "God, I'm making an ass of myself."
He shakes his head, just keeps looking into my eyes. Talks softly, like he understands all the wrong things about me. "No, you aren't." Orange eyes like... like a sunset on fire. They light the room. He must have been workin' up the courage for a long time, I've never seen him like this. An understanding expression, a sad grin on his lips. He leans over to me, hand still on my face. He stops a few inches from my me, looks me up and down to make sure.
He puts his lips on mine. Not forceful, like Jeff. Just Soft and warm and gentle. The most gentle kiss in Montana.
I squeeze my eyes shut tighter, feel a few more drops on my face. I feel his breath on my face. A moment of misery that gives me comfort for some fucked up reason. He pulls back, puts his forehead against mine. Strokes my face.
I don't know what's goin' on anymore. "Mattie..."
He holds me there, close to him. Cheek to cheek.
"I don't know how to say what's on my mind anymore."
"Mom always said these'd be the most awkward years of your life. The ones just before you leave home."
"She has no fuckin' idea." I kinda laugh when I say it.
He breathes in, strokes the back of my head with his face still against mine. He keeps his voice soft and low. It sounds like a calm breeze when he says, "I love you, Lem."
"I guess I've kinda always had the feeling you--"
He brushes his head to the side. Plants another one on me and shuts me up. Pulls me over on top of him. This is a whole new dimension of strange here.
I feel the rolling inferno inside him, sweeping me like wind through a wheat field. Holding me in the hottest summer sun. Just this one minute, he makes me feel safe and looked after. Ronnie was wrong. I've never been the one looking after Matthew. He's been looking after me. Been my conscience, my shadow. Eyes and ears. This angel. This being.
I swallow over the lump in my throat. "I love you, Shadow."
# # #
The lights are down. A blue nightlight casts funny shadows in the basement. I can make out the details, the monuments on Mattie's face. Darkened sockets and a glint off his eye.
The haunting sound of a sad steel guitar plays on the stereo. Softly as a breath of air. A sad fiddle. It feels right for this predicament. 'No one's gonna do me wrong to-night... Seems I've been through it all...' Mattie's always been a sentimental fool.
We're naked. Sitting on top of a soft blanket spread out across the floor. We're side by side, facing different walls. Our right shoulders touch each other, his right arm propping him up, across my chest, his hand next to my leg. I have my arm around his side.
Half an hour of kissing brought us here. I can't taste the salt on his lips anymore, just the mint on his breath. The texture of his tongue. His grace and delicate nature. This feels like something right. Like a poem where paradox meets purity. I will only hurt him. We both know it.
I back away from his face, rest my chin on his shoulder and stare off into the darkness. Kiss his collar bone, move down to a spot near his sternum. I can smell the blossoms again, light and sweet. Move to his belly button. A shallow innie resting between defined muscles. Lick it gently, softly. He gasps, lays back on his elbows. Arches his back up a little. Squeezes my forearm.
He's as hard as a rock. I kiss the head, stop. Whisper to his belly. "Mattie, is this what you want?"
He's quiet for a moment. "I don't know what I want, Lem. As long as it's got to do with you."
I feel wretched. That he waited for me. Waited to tell me this. That he wanted me like this and I didn't even see it. That I want to feel right about this, that I want to love him, love Jeff. That I want to love Brooke the way I should, but can't.
I lean down, take him into my mouth. Run my tongue around the ridge under his head, lick up the gully and stop at the opening at the top. Make my lips right, take it all the way in. Go down on him. Look up at his face.
He's still propped up on his elbows, arms tucked in at his sides, eyes closed. An almost stoned look in his face.
Smooth skin. A precious few strawberry blond wisps lay flat against his body, soft like the hair on his head. There's a freckle on the left side of his sack. His balls are hanging low from the heat of the basement. Thin, peach skin. A light handful of fig fruit. I have my best friend in my mouth.
His hand's shaking. He grabs me, licks it all the way up. Kisses it. Drops down so his wet lips are tickling the base. He hovers over me, moves his leg over top of me and puts his knees on either side of my head, pushes them outward to bring himself down a bit. His nuts bob up and down with his thrusts, meet my nose.
I can see his button, a little pink notch. The ring-piece. I think about it, good and hard. Get the urge to do it. I can't let this go on any past where we are now, for the sake of Mattie. For my own sake. I can't drag him into this, my perversion. My little black box. My rotten heart.
I keep looking into it. Taste Mattie's dick, let him thrust it down my throat. Smell his clean musk. A mix of his manhood, his back scraps. It makes me feel queazy, wanting to do to him what Jeff did to me. Suck on his ass. Just get really, really filthy. I Can't, wont.
It's not gonna be too much longer, for him or for me. His chest vibrates, like he's purring. Moaning. I could touch it... no!
I've known this kid for ten years, knew everything about him 'till now. Knew everything but his taste, his love. The way he feels all over. The brand.
He gasps, keeps sucking me. I feel something warm shoot down my throat. He's throbbing in my mouth. Try to swallow it, all of Mattie. There's too much. With his pumping, the amount of it, it starts running down the side of my face. This warm, thick bleach. Spicy and bland.
I drop my load, just fire it off. Mattie stops sucking, just keeps his mouth on me, keeps the suction. Swallows every bit of me. After a minute, he walks on all fours to turn around. Sits across my hips and leans down close to my face. Cleans off his stuff with his tongue, pushes it back into my mouth, and sticks his tongue in. A mixer kiss. A snowball.
I feel guilty about everything right now. I feel like I spirited him to this.
He lies down, presses his full weight on me. Snuggles his face into my neck.
"Mattie, I can't let you be this way because of me."
He pulls his face out of my neck and looks sideways at me. "I'm not this way because of you."
"I don't want people to treat you different, even if you aren't."
"I'm not gay. I can love you like this and still be normal. You're the only person in this world I want to be with, Lem." He squeezes me, rests his head on my shoulder. "I could be your everything."
My heart sinks. I said that to Jeff once, in a stupor. I could be everything for you. I'm just like Jeff. Just as despicable, just as fucked up. Mattie, you deserve so much better than this.
# # #
We're parked by the lake, Jeff and me. Looking down the dirt road toward town. Grass is brown and dead. There are small snow drifts, about a foot high, stacked up on the sides of the road. There are big puddles of water here and there. The sky looks dirty, white and gray.
Jeff hasn't been the same. I've been keeping a tally. Thirteen. Thirteen times in two weeks has he been inside me. Thirteen times he left behind his calling card, his cum. Thirteen times he opened up my vulnerability. Thirteen times has he talked to me, each time to one-up the number to the next. Make a deposit. Use my ass for his own, slam me and be done with me. It feels wrong, but I can't say no. Not to Jeff.
I'm sitting in the middle of the truck, right up against him. He flicks the butt of his cigarette out the window, hits a snow bank square. He puts his arm around my shoulders, pulls me over. Just starts kissing me, slobbering on my lips. His breath tastes bad, acidic. I won't be able to get the taste out for days.
He undoes my fly, starts jerkin' me. Gets me by my attention stick. He starts trying to work my shirt off. Breaks the kiss long enough for me to catch my breath and say something that's been in my brain. "So, this mean we're boyfriends or something?"
He looks me in the eye, keeps workin' at my shirt. "I'm no fuckin' fag."
I grab his hand. "So, for my own piece'a mind, what the hell you call this?"
He fuckin' smacks me across the face. Just smacks me, like I'm just some bitch to him. I really am just a piece of ass.
I hold my face, stare at him. Watch him try to put things together.
His eyes stay angry. He puts a hand on my forehead and pushes me back. Grabs me by the arms and turns me over. Rips my pants down around the bottom of my butt. Spits on my hole and pushes me down on the seat. "You fuckin' like this? Huh? You like a cock in your ass? Like being a little fag?" He pushes my pants all the way off with his foot, feel him trying to work his belt off, get his stuff out.
I feel his dick against my asshole. He just pushes it in, doesn't do it slowly, either. Jams it in. If he wasn't holding me down, using his weight, I'da jumped clear across the cabin holding my ass. It burns, feels like it's tearing. I want this. I need it, to be punished. This is what I deserve, isn't it?
"You like it? Being gay? You want it?" He grabs a fist-full of the back of my shirt, pulls it back. Almost chokes me. "Gonna give it to you good." One thrust after another. The sad thing is I'm still hard, and it's starting to feel good. I don't want to be here anymore, be anywhere near Jeff. "You like this? Huh?"
"What the fuck if I do?"
It only takes a minute or two, but he cums in me. Pulls it out. "Fuck. You got blood on my dick. Should make you clean this off." He's sitting up now, using my shirt to clean himself.
I sit up, clinch my broken cheeks together. I can feel my hole throbbing. I'm sitting on my knees, facing outta the drivers window with Jeff behind be. I turn, put my feet on the floor and start getting my pants back on. Bastard. "Thanks. You're such a gentleman." Get my pants snapped up, zipped. "You really did fuck that kid in Coeur d'Alene, didn't you?"
"If I did, you really think I'd tell a fag like you?"
"I aint no fag. Never said I was, did I?"
"Little queers like you an' Mattie always run around in groups. He deserves a better friend than you."
It hurts. More than my ass. "Fuckin' leave Mattie outta this." I try to punch him in the face. Graze his forehead, but he's got me by the arm. Pushes the hit off to the side and holds my arm away from him. Yanks me toward him, wraps his arms around me. "You're half the man Mattie is. He's not gay." I try to squirm out of his grasp.
"Why? You afraid I'd fuck his little ass? Split him in half? I bet he'd be a better fuck than you."
I spit on his face.
"You shit!" He starts pushing me toward the driver-side door, keeps his arms tight around me. He reaches out for the door handle and pops it open.
I get an arm free, elbow him in the ribs as hard as I can. He just pushes me outta the truck. I fall forward, land flat on my face. He throws my coat at me. Starts the truck, slams the door, and takes off.
I stand up, take a step forward and flip him off. Hope he sees it. Brush myself off, pull my jacket over my arms and take to walkin'. It's starting to get a little dark, and I've got eight or so miles before I get home.
The cold breeze picks up. She licks at my back and wraps her frosty fingers around the back of my neck. Chills me to the quick. Fuck Jeff. Fuck this town. Fuck Montana. Fuck my life.
Please let me know what you think of the story. Send critiques to email@example.com with the subject "Lem.". Thanks for reading!