Written By: Justin Case
Edited By: Ed
Disclaimer: Hey, what the heck have you gone and done now? Somehow, you have managed to find your way into a gay site. I hope you're old enough to be here, cause if you're not, uh oh, you could be in trouble. I hope you enjoy the story here, because I wrote it for you. Yes, that's right; I created it and placed it here for the world to see. It is fiction at my best, so any coincidental similarities are just that. This material is placed here for your enjoyment. I give it to you freely, and ask that if you feel so compelled to copy it, you do so too. Neither I, nor my editors, nor the site publisher, accept responsibility for you. We barely are responsible for ourselves. You, my friends, are on your own! ©2001 JCPCo
SoapBox: Hey there, all my faithful, how the hell are ya? I have gotten many letters and IMs asking me for more Luke. So not to let you all down, here we go. I have to tell you, that with the warmer weather upon me, here in New England, I am busy with my real job. I am so, so, sorry it is taking me a little longer to post my work for you. I hope you forgive me.
You know, my friends; I have to tell you all something. I know. What else is new? I got an IM the other night, and want to share it with you. I hope you don't mind, but, if you do, scroll on down to the story. I wouldn't know the difference, Hehe. Anyways, this guy sends me a message, he's sixteen, and wondering what he is. You know, the old 'am I gay or what?' syndrome. Only, he wonders if he's bi. Seems he has a girlfriend and he likes her. However, he also has a mad crush on his best friend, and they both flirt with each other. He doesn't know if his friend is interested sexually, but he fantasizes about the friend constantly. He wants me to advise him. Well, I got to tell you, I was flattered by his confidence. Here's my theory; if you fantasize sexually about others of the same sex, try it, you may like it. Make sure they are willing to try it with you. I hate labels. No, no, no, labels are not for me. I firmly believe that if we (men and women) were left to our own devices we would experience the fun of making love with our own types. I have often said some like the Chevrolet and others like the Ford, some like blue and some don't. Somewhere along the line of our history, organized religion told us sex amongst our own kind was wrong, and that has been preached to us since. I just saw how the Pope apologized to the Jewish folks, for years of preaching hate. I can only wonder when all the churches will apologize to us, the people who prefer to have love with our own gender. Enough about that. Send me your thoughts, I love hearing from you. I can be reached at Justin69SK@aol.com Remember one thing, my friends; sexual preference is something we are born with. Yes, it is a gift from God above, let no man put asunder what He has given us. My love to you all, as we wander through the journeys of our lives. I hope you like the story. Don't forget, if you want to chat with me live I can be found in http://talkcity.com on Saturday nights at 10:00PM EDT, in Justin's Corner. Thanks for listening to me ramble. As always, Just, Justin J
I woke that Christmas morning alone in my bed, Travis had to spend the night with his Mom. I ached for him to be by my side, but knew he was in a safe place. It was the first night since my dad died that I had slept without him. I felt so alone, yet I felt happy to have him in my life. I wanted to get up and see what presents had been placed under our tree, but decided that I would stay in bed and think about what Christmas was all about. I know I sound silly, but sometimes I just think I need to connect with God. It must be the years of Catholic School.
I pictured Christ as he traveled amongst the people two thousand years ago, in the Middle East. I visualized Him and his disciples wandering around, preaching His word. I couldn't help but think that these twelve men and Christ were all men. I know, it sounds weird, but, what did they do on those cold nights alone in the dark? I thought about Joseph and Mary being turned away, and having to sleep amongst the animals in a manger. I wondered how God decided upon a carpenter and a virgin to be the parents of Christ. I thought about how, in all his teachings, the Lord taught about the less fortunate people. He seemed to love those who had been cast aside by fellow man. I realized He loved me, and I loved Him.
I lay in my bed and thanked Him for giving me Travis. I told Him how happy he had made me. I know He heard me, I felt it. I only wished that Father Jenkins, the Monsignor at Sacred Heart, knew Christ like I knew him. Father Jenkins always seemed so stuffy to me.
Just as I was deep in my thoughts, the phone next to my bed startled me with its ringing. I rolled my limber body over to reach for it, I hoped it was Travis. I placed the receiver to my ear.
"Hello," I answered.
"Merry Christmas, good looking. I miss you." Travis's voice penetrated my deep cerebration.
"I miss you too. What time can I come over? I have to do the present thing here first, but I can't wait to see you," I affectionately said, into the mouthpiece.
"Where are you, sleepy head? Still in bed?" Travis asked.
"Mmhmm. Thinking about you," I told him, proudly.
"Really? What you got on?" he mused.
"Traaaavis, you are bad," I laughed, as I said his name with some exaggeration.
"What? Can't a fellow ask what you're wearing? I'm still in my bed too," he chuckled, with a devilish sound to his laughter.
"What are thinking?" I continued the banter.
"I'm thinking that I want to have phone sex with you. Aren't I good enough? I never had phone sex before," he whispered into the telephone.
"I have on my paisley print boxers, the ones you said you like," I confessed.
"Oh, wow. I have on my plain old white Fruit of the Looms. Am I boring or what?" He sounded so sexy.
I grasped my hard dick in my right hand and began to fondle it. I slowly slid my hand up and down my cock, stopping at the top of it and spreading the pre-cum around the head of it. I envisioned his delectable smooth body lying in his bed doing the same thing. I could hear his breathing as it got heavier.
"No, you are never boring," I finally responded to him.
"I love you so much, Luke, I really do." I heard the excitement in his voice.
"Uh, uh, ohhh, I love you too," I said, as my cum shot over my head and onto my chest.
"Luke, did you just do it? I was kidding. Awww, oooo," his gasps came.
"Huh, yeah. OK, whatever you say." I laughed, knowing he was teasing. He was just as horny for me as I was for him. I felt so much in love with him at that moment I can't begin to express it.
"I know, I did it too. I am bad," he finally admitted, his laughter was infectious.
I held my stomach with my left hand as I laughed with him. I had wet sperm all over me, it was so sticky. I didn't mind though, 'cause I knew he did too. Hell, I was going to take a shower anyways. I had never shot a load like I had that day; it actually flew over my head on the first blast.
"Hey, Buddy. Can you be here for eleven?" Travis asked, his breathing began to return to normal.
"Depends," I teased at him. "Are you going to be good? 'Cause if you're not, no presents from me," I halfheartedly told him.
"I promise, I'll be good. I have to go. I'll see you at eleven. Give my love to your Mom and Grandma for me. Bye." The phone went dead in my ear before I could say a word.
I replaced the receiver into its cradle and laid back on my bed. I put both my arms behind my head and just stared off into space. I was so lucky to have Travis in my life. Everything seemed so different now. I felt guilty, because I had lost my dad, but remembered what my mother had told me. I wished my dad a Merry Christmas, as I stared at the ceiling above me, hoping he could hear me.
"Luke, are you going to come down?" I heard my mom's voice through my door.
"I'm getting up now."
"Who was that on the phone?" she asked, still outside my door.
"Travis, he wished us all a Merry Christmas."
"He's so thoughtful. I want you to invite his mom over for dinner. I want to get to know her. She has to be a wonderful person to raise such a nice young man," Mother called to me.
"That would be great, Mom. I have to go over there for eleven, I'll ask her then," I shouted back.
I quickly jerked my comforter off my body and placed my feet on the carpet. I got out of my bed and spread my blankets back, covering the remnants of my excitement. I thought to myself that I would tell Helga to change my bedding. I didn't want to sleep with a crusty pillowcase or sheet. Especially if Travis spent the night, which I knew and hoped he would.
I gradually shook the sleep from my tired soul as I tried to figure out what I was going to wear. I stood before my closet and cast my eyes upon my worldly possessions. I thought about Travis, and hoped he was going to like the present I bought for him. I also imagined what he would say when I gave him the gift my grandmother bought for me to give to him. I was so damn excited; it was like I was a little boy again.
I decided to wear my baby blue cotton sweater, with my red and blue striped oxford shirt. I would wear my white Dockers and my special Santa socks. I decided to wear my black loafers, so I grabbed my shoe polishing kit from the bottom of my closet. I finally decided to wear my red silk boxers, just in case Travis wanted to unwrap me later.
I scampered to the shower, full of glee. I hurried through my daily washing, 'cause I wanted to fix my hair just so. I knew my hair was going to take a little more time to fix than it usually did, because I wanted to look just right. I studied myself in the mirror as I primed my 'do. I eventually got every strand of it where I thought it would look best and moussed it to its artful design. Content with the way I looked, I casually walked out of the bathroom and descended the stairs to join the others.
It was a marvelous day. I had gotten some nice painting equipment from Helga. She seemed to go all out, she gave me a burgundy, leathered artist's case with velvet lining. I knew it was expensive, so I thanked her profusely. My grandmother gave me a new easel, with an artist's smock. The smock was tan in color; its fabric was cotton. She told me it would match my eyes. I had never had a real smock before, I was thankful for her thoughtfulness. From my mother I got an envelope with five hundred dollars inside, and a note. The personal message read: "To my darling son, you mean the world to me. I wanted you to have this money so you could buy whatever your heart desired. Merry Christmas, by the way, the big box under the tree was from your father and me."
I was shocked, my eyes teared up as I closed the note and immediately searched for the last box behind the tree. It was wrapped in a shiny green paper, with a gold ribbon around it and a bright red bow on its top. I grabbed the box and ripped furiously at the paper. I couldn't wait to see what was in it. I slowly opened the container and removed the white tissue paper from inside of it, exposing a brand new camcorder.
"We thought you could use that instead of a camera for your artwork," Mother cheerfully explained.
"Thank you all so much." I began to sob.
The gifts I had gotten for each of them paled in comparison to the ones they had given me. I gave my mother a simple gold locket and necklace, I put a picture of my dad and me inside of it. I gave my grandmother some lottery tickets and a gift certificate to Lord and Taylor's, I knew it was her favorite place to shop. I gave Helga a Hickory Farms assortment of cheese and meats, and a Chicago butcher knife. I knew she liked the cheeses and wouldn't dare eat them unless they were a gift. The cleaver was one I had seen her admire one day while looking through a shopping flyer. Funny thing was, we all sat around with tears in our eyes, telling one another how much we loved the gifts. I guess you just never know what makes others happy.
After we opened our gifts we had a grand breakfast, my grandmother was quick to report that she had helped prepare the feast. My mother even told Helga to join us at the table, which was something we would never have thought about with my father. We had pancakes with blueberries, and fresh whipped butter smothering them. Helga had made her famous Christmas sausage; the recipe came from her grandmother in Germany. It was the only day of the year we ever had it. I loved it and wished we could have it more, but Helga said it was very time consuming to make and was only for Christmas. Grandmother had made some wonderful pastries; she glazed them with honey. My mother commented on how she hadn't had the pastries since she first met my dad. The baked delights were soft and doughy; they were golden brown with the glazing oozing over them. Helga also had an assortment of fruits and her famous scrambled eggs with cheese and bacon bits set on platters in the midst of the table. The breakfast feast was very salubrious, to say the least.
I helped clear the table, it was another gift my grandmother and I gave Helga, and one that Father would never had stood for. I was anxious to get over to Travis' so I nearly dropped the platter that held the dirty dishes. My nervousness must have been apparent.
"Luke, why don't you go get your things together. I'll finish up here. I'll drive you over to Travis'," Grandmother said lovingly, as she pushed me out of the kitchen.
I didn't waste any time; I flew up the stairs to my bedroom to collect the gifts and my jacket. I only stopped briefly at my mother's door and thanked her again. I quickly yelled, as I ran back down the hall to the stairs, that I'd be home for dinner. I heard her call out something, I figured it was just a reminder to invite Mrs. Jenson, so I kept going. I hit the bottom step and slid across the foyer floor where I waited for my grandmother.
The celebration at Travis' was fun; his mother played Christmas records on her stereo. She had put out an assortment of cookies and candies on the dining room table and on her coffee table in the living room. The thing I liked most was the large bowl of assorted nuts on the center of the coffee table, the kind of nuts you had to crack with a nutcracker. The cookies were all homemade; I especially liked the ones they called pecan tarts. They were like little pie shells filled with crushed pecans and honey. I couldn't remember ever eating so much before, not even at Thanksgiving. The three of us sat in their living room, chatting and munching until Travis couldn't stand it.
"Hey, come on, you guys, let's do presents," he said, as he got up from the couch and moved to the floor near the seven-foot tall balsam fir tree.
The fragrance of pine filled the room. The occasional crackle of the fire could be heard over the music that played in the background. The tree was adorned with various ornaments, some of which looked hand crafted, while others appeared to be antiques. The tree was tastefully decorated; it had just the right amount of dressing that made it balance and look well thought out.
Travis slid a couple of boxes from under the tree, one small one and one larger one; he handed them to me. They both had been wrapped in the same paper; I looked closer at the wrappings and realized he had hand painted it. It contained several winter scenes. Some were of skaters on an ice-covered pond; others were of families in sleighs. He even had some with carolers singing on a gazebo. I knew how much work he had put into the paper alone, so I admired it before I dared open it.
I moved over to the tree myself; I had placed my two gifts to him under it when I had arrived. I pulled them out and handed him the two boxes that I had had wrapped. I handed him my gifts.
"You go first!" he exclaimed.
"No. You go first," I resisted.
"I got an idea," came his mother's voice of reason, "how about you do it together, but wait, let me get my camera."
"Yeah, thanks, Mom," Travis said, as he shot me a wink and smile.
I was so fascinated with how well Travis and his mom seemed to get along. I guessed that they had been without Mr. Jenson for so long that the two of them had put more into their own relationship. I remember thinking, I hoped my mother and I would do the same. I had noticed how Helga and my grandmother were treating me more grown up now, but I just hadn't made time for my mother. I made a mental note that I would spend some quality time with her before I went back to school.
Mrs. Jenson was armed with her Minolta 35 millimeter camera and pointing it in our direction. We both slowly unwrapped the smaller boxes first. When I looked up to see his reaction, tears were streaming down his face. I explained to him that my grandmother had bought us each one, and pulled mine out from below my shirt and sweater to show it to him. Inside the small box he had given me was a gold ring with a small diamond and it was engraved with "BF." He must have seen the confused look on my face, he immediately explained it meant best friend. I became just as overwhelmed as he, and the tears started running down my face too.
"Oh, look at you two. Come on now, this is Christmas. Smile, look here at the camera," Mrs. Jenson insisted.
"Now do the big one, Luke, please. You first, you cheated on the little one," Travis said with a begging tone.
I complied with his wishes, and gently opened the hand painted paper that he so lovingly created for my gifts. I would cherish and save the paper forever. I finally had the wrapping removed and with great ease lifted the top off the box. Inside there was a blue velvet bathrobe. It was the most beautiful bathrobe I had ever seen. On the left breast was a monogram, it had my initials in gold. The cuffs and collar were also trimmed in gold, as was the tie that went around the waist.
"Thank you, Travis, I love it. I don't know what to say," I said as I admired the robe.
"It's from my mother and me. I couldn't believe with all your clothes you have, you didn't have a bathrobe that fit, this one is sized to fit all," he gleamed with pride.
I thought that the bathrobe I had been wearing was old and worn. I knew then how thoughtful he really was. He bought me something that he knew I needed. I liked this idea better than the lists we did; this was a surprise. His two gifts were the first two gifts I had ever gotten that I hadn't put on a wish list. I truly was grateful to have him in my life.
"Now you. I hope you like it," I said, with anticipation.
He opened the box as gingerly as I imagined a young child would on Christmas Day. I watched him as he tore the ribbon and bow away and threw them to the side, and as he ripped the paper from the box. His eyes were full and wide, as he parted the flaps of the box top. He dug his hands in and pulled out the saddle brown leather jacket I had bought him at Wilson's. It was just like the one I had that he liked so much. Wilson's was like my second favorite store to go; I love the smell of leather, and was amazed at the things they could make.
"Oh, Luke, you shouldn't have. Oh, I am so happy, it's just like yours," he said with obvious fondness in his voice, as he clutched the jacket to his chest.
"Try it on, I want to make sure it fits. I got you a little bigger size than I have, mine looked small on you." I poked fun at him.
He put his arm into the right sleeve and pulled the leather jacket around his back while he stood up to finish getting it on. I have to tell you, even if it sounds like I'm bragging; it fit him perfectly. He looked so divine, he walked over to me and pulled me up from the floor and hugged me. I saw the flash of the camera as his mother caught the two of us in the Minolta. It was perfect; it all seemed to fit, the ring, the jacket, and our love for each other.
"Oh, by the way, Mrs. Jenson, my mom wanted you to come for dinner tonight," I said as I broke from our embrace.
"That would be wonderful. I have some fresh baked pies I could bring. I hope I have some pecan tarts left, I'll bring some of those too," she said jokingly.
We spent the rest of the afternoon talking quietly in his living room, occasionally listening to the music that his mother kept playing. Travis and I took turns adding logs to the fire to keep it going, while I helped myself to the cookies and nuts. I was content to just be by his side.
Well, there you have it, another chapter of Luke's Secret Art. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did. Please send me your thoughts, I love getting e-mail. Thanks for viewing my site too. The address to my site, justincase you forgot is: http://justinscorner.homestead.com and my e-mail is Justin69SK@aol.com
My special thanks goes to Ed for his fine editing job.
Until we meet again.