Date: Wed, 14 Jul 2004 17:32:49 -0400
From: blue_steele82@hotmail.com
Subject: matt, part 1

     Right, so, here goes.  This is my first time writing
anything like this, I thought I'd just put it out there and
see.  I guess I should say that this is a story of complete
fiction, and any x-rated stuff happens between two
consensual people.  If you shouldn't be reading this/would
not want to read this, don't.  If you enjoy it, please feel
free to e-mail me at blue_steele82@hotmail.com.  Thanks.

_____________________________


     I've been watching Roman Sainsbury since we were in
grade 10.  He's one of those ridiculously fantastic looking
people who get more interesting to look at every time you
see them.  He's absolutely fascinating - from the way he
moves to the way he smiles to his facial expressions.  He's
not the conventional good-looking type - you know, that
bulky, preppie style guy; he's leaner, and has dark curly
hair and deep blue eyes and is slightly off-beat.  He's
pretty popular, in the way that people are here.  It's a big
school - there are almost 2000 kids from grades 9 to 12 -
and everyone has their own niche and their own web of
friends and acquaintances.
     That's why I didn't know who he was until our sophomore
year.  He sat in front of me in math, and I got so hard the
first time I saw him.  I spent the whole year just staring
at his neck, at the mole he has just below his hair line -
his hair was shorter then.
     I talk to him sometimes; after over three years in the
same school with the same group of people, you get to know
almost everyone in your grade who is even remotely like you
- that is, those people who go to parties know people who
party, athletes know athletes, enrichment course kids know
other smart kids - it's just how it is.  So he's my buddy,
of sorts, but I've never really had the opportunity to get
close to him.
     On the rare occasion when we have to chilled together,
he just amazes me.  What's even more amazing than how good-
looking he is is that he has a personality to match it.
He's very intelligent and funny in his own way and has
direction and is passionate about music and just knows a lot
of things.  And he's genuinely friendly, if a little shy,
and easy to be around.  Basically, I've been on and off
completely smitten with him since I've known him.
     That's not to say that I've been freakishly in love
with him for three years.  I'm pretty sure that it's
impossible to maintain a crush for that long with no
reciprocation whatsoever from the other party.  I've had my
share fare of crushes since and during him, and even fooled
around with some guys (never from my school - I'm not out
here, and I don't want to be), but I just keep coming back
to him.  Maybe it's because I secretly think that there's
hope for us.  Most of the time, he seems pretty straight,
but then there are these instances where I just get this
vibe from him.  It's probably just me seeing something that
I want to see.  It might even ruin it for me if I knew he
was gay, as if it might make he seem like less of a real
specimen of man or something.  Roman.  Shit, sometimes I
wonder what I'm going to do.

     ______________________

     I check myself out.  I look pretty hot, I guess, for
me.  My skin looks good, there's good color to it, and my
hair's doing what I want it to, which it rarely does.  I
hate its color, blondish-brownish, and it's too straight.
But I'd never dye it - I know it sounds kind of funny, but
I'm too much of a pretty boy about my hair to do anything to
it - I can't risk ruining it.  That would just be
disastrous.
     Anyway, I'm set.  My outfit's hot, and I'm ready to hit
this party up.  I wonder if Roman's going to be there.. I
wonder if straight boys spend this much time in front of the
mirror before they go out - do I give myself away?  Do I
come across as a fag?  I hope not.  I hate effeminate gay
people that can't handle their own.  Actually, that's a lie,
I just hate that the rest of us are subject to those
generalizations just because some of us are like that.  And
I love how I say us as if having the same sexual preference
immediately makes us all part of a singular group, like I
know the entire global population of homosexuals.
     But the point is, I play sports.  Rugby, football, and
volleyball (okay, to be honest, I'm not really a football
jock, the team is huge and anyone who tries out makes it as
like 90th string, and over half the team never dresses, but
every cool boy in school is on the team, so I am too, but
that's besides the point).  I do play sports, though, and
I've gotten into fights.  I'm just a regular guy.  I just
happen to like other guys.
     So, right, this party I'm going to.  I'm pretty stoked
on.  It's at this rich bitch Lindsay's mansion, and
everyone's going - it's the first open house of the year,
and it's already October.  It should be good business for
me.  I sell some bud on the side, mostly only at these
functions, but it's a good way to make money, because most
of the people at my highly suburbanized high school are too
afraid to approach real dealers.
     My buddy Chris shows up a few minutes later.  He's
already got Trevor in the car with him.  Chris is my most
responsible friend, and he rarely drinks.  Its not that he's
opposed to it, he just likes to drive, and I think that he
likes to be the one who deals with the drunken idiocies of
his friends and laughs at the slutty drunk chicks.  Trevor,
on the other hand, is a tank, and has two two-fours waiting
in the back seat for us.
     A few hours later, and more than a few beers later, I'm
ready to leave.  The party's fun, but it's the same as every
other party I've ever been to.  I'm stuck here, though,
because Chris's ex-girlfriend Becky is drunk and therefore
horny and he's not one to let a poor girl down.
     I'm just about to go barge in on them when I see him
approaching.  God, he looks good tonight - he's got a green
Marley print t-shirt on and it suits him awesomely.
     "Hey," he says, "how's it going, man?"
     "Fine." Fucking idiot, that's all I can think of to
say.
     "So, I was wondering if I could pick off you.  Just a
gram."  Right, that's why he's talking to me, he just wants
to buy drugs.  Why else would he talk to me?
     "Ya, sure man."  And we exchange drugs for money and
our hands touch briefly.  This is the highlight of my night.
     We chat for a little bit after this (I think that he
just feels obliged because he kinda knows me and is too nice
to pretend that he doesn't).
     "Hey, you okay, man?"  he suddenly asks.  He says it
with such casualness - a question normally reserved for
between intimate friends - and even then is often skirted
around between males.  But I can tell he means it, and that
he actually cares.
     "Uh.. ya," I say pathetically, "It's just. I'm kinda
bored and kinda tired, but Chris is. busy, and he's my ride
home."
     Then he asks me where I live.  I tell him; I know it's
not close to his house (don't ask me why, I just know).  But
it comes anyway:
     "I could give you a lift home.  This party's getting to
be a bit lame."  I should ask him if he's okay to drive, but
I don't; I should tell him Chris is almost finished, but I
don't; instead, I too eagerly take him up on his offer.  I
love him..
     On the way out to his car, he stops to talk to his
friend Ryan.  Ryan doesn't say anything to me, but he gives
me a dirty look.  A lot of people in that crew of boys don't
like me.  They think I'm a fag, but not because they know
I'm gay or anything.  I just represent everything that
they're against in the world.  I'm outgoing and sociable,
and I'm on Student's Council and really involved in our
school, as opposed to them, who do nothing but get high and
drive around with each other (I mean, I get high a lot, but
I'm still active).  I know Ryan would never say anything
about me to my face and wouldn't try to start shit with
Roman there, but it makes me uncomfortable.  For a moment,
I'm briefly reminded of part of the reason why I never chill
with Roman in the first place.
     When we get to my house, Roman asks if he can come in
and use my bathroom.  Oh my God, he's coming into my house.
When we get inside he's trying really hard to be quiet, and
I have to laugh at him.
     "My house is empty, man.  My mom's out of town on
business.  My sister's away at U of T."  He visibly relaxes,
and I point him in direction of the bathroom.
     I expect him to leave as soon as he's done peeing, but
when he comes out he seems reluctant to go.  He dawdles a
little bit, and I figure that if he wants to stay and chill
he's welcome too, so I offer him a drink.
     We move into my kitchen and he sits down at the table.
I pour us each some water, and join him.  We begin talking,
and before long he begins rolling a joint with the weed I
just sold him.
     "You don't mind, do you?" he asks me.  "I was going to
just smoke this alone later, but we may as well just chill
on it now."  I nod my consent, and we continue to make small
talk.  The entire time I just have this constant stream of
thought in the back of my mind, `I can't believe he's here.
I can't believe I'm talking to him.'  But it just seems so
easy.  We get along really well, better than I ever thought
we would, and for the first time I don't really feel nervous
around him.
     When we light up, chilling with him just gets even
easier.  Neither one of us gets very high, just enough to
calm us down.  I've got the perfect buzz going; I've had
enough beers to make me happy and enough weed to chill me
out, but not so much of either that I feel sleepy or sick.
     Me and Roman just sit there and shoot the shit for
hours in my kitchen.  We talk about music - well, mostly
Roman talks and I listen, because he knows so much about
what's going on there and I just like to hear him speak -
and I make him freestyle for me, because he tells me that he
does it.  When he does, it reminds me of spot poetry, and I
begin to tell him about my writing, something that I don't
talk to anyone about, not even Chris.  The conversation
moves from heavy to light subjects, from school to the
future (we're graduating this year, so it's a big one) to
people who piss us off to our views on life, and with every
second I feel more and more close to him, and - with growing
concern - more and more attracted to him.
     Eventually, the conversation turns towards to girls.
He's been dating tienne for 6 months now.  I know this
already, but he tells me as if I don't.  What I don't know
is that technically they've been broken up for over a month,
but she won't leave him alone.  That's why they're still
together a lot at school, and he still sleeps with her from
time to time, but really he's just tired of her shit.  Then
he says something that freaks me out, but only because I'm
reading too much into it.
     "I just don't feel close to her.  I wish I could just
be with someone who I can talk to like I'm talking to you
right now."  Holy shit, me too. if he only knew.  Naturally,
he wants to know about me and girls, and I feel obliged to
tell him.  I start off easy.
     "I haven't had a girlfriend since grade 10," I tell him
(he remembers - Tina Price).  "I'm still close with her.  I
mean, things weren't ever going to work out, but sometimes I
just miss with being with someone.  And I miss someone
constant to fool around with.  I mean, I still see people
from time to time.. No one from our school, but it's not
really the same."
     "Well why don't you just hit up someone.  There are a
lot of hot girls at our school, and I know for a fact that a
lot of them think you're cute."
     Holy shit.  Why does he know that?  Does he talk about
me often?  That's kinda a weird thing to say, no?  Maybe
it's just because he's high.  Jesus, would I be freaking out
like this if it wasn't him.  Is it actually that weird of a
thing to say.  Either way, moment of truth, here.  He wants
to know why I don't hit any of the girls up at school.  I
haven't lied to him once yet this night, and I really don't
want to.  And I feel like I could tell him and it would be
okay.  The problem is, I've never actually articulated how I
feel about sex to anyone.  I often say I'm gay, either to
myself or my hook-ups or whatever, but it's only for
simplification reasons.  I know I like guys, and I'm pretty
sure that I like them more than girls.  But the thing is
that I don't find girls completely unappealing.  When I was
with Tina, I don't remember not being turned on by her.  So
I'm a little bit confused.  I take a deep inhale, and his
question hangs in the air.
     "Why don't you just hit someone up?"  I decide to tell
him.  I don't see him getting upset.  Except that I'm a big
pussy and I chicken out.
     "No one at our school really interests me - at least no
one who's available."  Okay, so I didn't lie to him,
exactly.  I just sugar-coated the truth.
     "Fair enough," he says, in his perfectly accepting
manner.  I hate myself; I should have told him, and I'm
never going to get this moment again.
     We talk for a little while longer, and at around 4 am I
begin to wonder if he's ever going home.  I don't want him
to leave, but it's weird - 3 and a half hours ago I barely
knew him and was just getting a ride home from him.  Now I
feel closer to him than even to some of my best and oldest
friends - at least at this moment.  Who knows what things
will be like on Monday.  Then he brings it up (the him
leaving thing, not the issue of our new relationship).
     "I hope you don't mind that I'm staying here so long."
He says it pleadingly, like he's begging me to let him stay.
I suddenly see a lot of hurt in him.
     "Not at all," I reply.  "You're parents don't mind that
you're out so late."  I'm genuinely concerned - and okay, I
admit it, a little bit curious.  He looks sad.  What's going
on with Mr. Together?
     "My parent's don't care.  They barely know me.  I'm
just some unfortunate thing that happened in their lives.
They were supposed to have a football star.  Instead they
got me.  Basically they only keep me so that the neighbours
still think that we have a normal family.  My parents are
very vain."
     After he says it I hate myself even more.  He just
unloaded this huge confession on me, showing that he really
trusts me, and I can't tell him any of my shit.  Why am I so
afraid?  I try to be supportive about his revelation and let
him talk about it as much as he wants, which is not that
much.  I don't know what to say, but I mumble something
about how I think he's a really good guy and that I think
his parents are idiots.
     A little while later, we decide to pop in a movie.
Reservoir Dogs.  I think it's pretty obvious that we're not
getting much sleep tonight.  So there I am, sitting on a
couch, listening to Steve Buscemi bitch about how he doesn't
tip, so close to my walking wet dream that I can feel the
heat emanating off his body, and the next thing I know, Mr.
Black is dancing around to Stuck in the Middle With You,
torturing a police officer with a wife and a kid, and, oh
yeah - I'm lying in Roman fucking Sainsbury's lap.  And
furthermore, he's absent-mindedly stroking my temple.  What
the fuck.
     I yawn, turn over, and look up at him.
     "Did I fall asleep?"  He just looks at me and laughs a
little.  Of course you fell asleep, you idiot.
     "You crashed at the beginning of the movie.  I would
have woken you up, but you looked so cute, all rosy-cheeked
and drooly."  Oh shit, did I drool on him?  He must read it
in my face.
     "Don't worry.  You didn't get spit on me."  And he
looks in my eyes.  Whoa!  Holy intense moment.  Okay, I have
to tell him.  I can't just not get this off my chest.  This
is my chance.  I sit up and move to the other end of the
couch.  I want to give him his space while I tell him this.
     "What's wrong?" he asks me.  "Was I."
     "It's nothing you did.  The thing is," I start, "I feel
like I need to tell you something.  Because I feel like
you're letting me into you and - and I don't want you to get
the wrong impression, or something."  He just stares at me
with his perfect, intense eyes, a question written on his
face.  But I can tell he doesn't want to interrupt me.
"Okay. so, I feel like you're letting me get close to you
and that you maybe wouldn't if you know some things about
me.  What I mean is, I'm not really sure that I'm completely
into girls."  I hide my head in my hands.  "Actually, I know
I'm not.  I mean, I don't find girls fully unappealing, but
I'd much rather be with a guy.  And that just raises a lot
of problems I'm not sure I'm ready to deal with.  And we're
having this physical contact and this intense night, and I
feel like I need to let you know the way I feel. about you."
I look up at him.  He looks a little shocked.  I know I am.
I just told the guy I've had a crush on for over two years
that I'm gay.  Oh shit, he's gonna know that I like him now.
     "That was a really big admission," he tells me.  Like I
don't know that.
     "What's bigger is that you're the only person that I've
ever told.  Or the only person in this part of my life that
I've told, I mean."
     "Thank-you for trusting me with that."  I can tell that
he's choosing his words carefully and that he's thinking
things through as he speaks.  "Can I ask you stuff about
it?"  Sure..  Where is this going?  He doesn't even seem
surprised, really.  Why isn't he surprised?
     "Ya, sure, go ahead, man."
     "Have you ever been with a guy?"  I tell him yes, and
we go on like that for a few minutes while he asks me all
the questions that he seems to need to ask to be comfortable
with me again.  He's very diplomatic about the whole thing.
I can tell that he has more he wants to say on the topic,
but that he doesn't want to make me feel uncomfortable.
     "So, I guess I should probably apologize to you for, I
dunno, falling asleep on you.  I mean I know that you're
straight and that in your shoes I'd probably feel a little
bit uncomfortable right about now."  This is a weird
experience, saying everything I feel, all those inner things
that we as humans normally hide and encode in what we
actually say are just sitting in the open, naked and
blatant, and it doesn't feel embarrassing.  It's one of the
most honest moments of my life, and I wonder how long it is
going to last.
     I look at him.  He seems to be struggling with
something.  And then he opens his mouth.
     "Dude," he begins, "first of all, I don't have a
problem with you.  You're a very real person and I
appreciate the way we can talk to each other, and especially
you're honesty with me.  But to be honest I am a little
freaked out."  Shit.  Everything's ruined.  He continues.
     "Umm. what I mean is. did you say you had feelings for
me?"  He's picking up on one of those mentions that could
have easily been ignored or forgotten.  He's forcing it out.
Why the fuck not, I guess..
     "Ya, I did," I reply to him.
     "You know, it's funny," he says.  "I've always kinda
got that feeling from you, but couldn't place it.  Because,
I mean, I've spent years honing skills and deciphering when
girls were checking me out," he says with a bit of a laugh,
"not guys.  And then, well, I told myself I was only
imagining it.  That I saw it there only because I wanted to.
I don't mean to say that I like you or anything. it was just
that the thought that you found me attractive turned me on.
And it made me wonder about some things, sometimes."
     "Oh."  What the fuck am I supposed to say to that?  I
mean, did he just tell me that he was into me and wanted to
try us out, or was he just voicing a casual thought or
observation trying to explain why he wasn't so surprised.
     "Ha ha ha ha." he's laughing at me.  "You look so
confused."
     "I am," I concede.
     And then he leans over and kisses me.  Okay, last thing
I was expecting him to do.  I mean he really kisses me.
Arms wrapped around each other, hands rubbing backs, lips
parted, tongues in each other's mouths kisses me.  And then
he pulls away and looks at me and smiles.
     "I never thought I'd ever do that," he laughs.  "But it
was always something that I had in the back of my mind as a
`what if?'"
     "And.."
     "And it felt somehow right."  Kay, I don't know if he's
experimental or just horny or what, but he's staring at me
with these big, wide eyes, and he seems so vulnerable, and I
know this moment will never come again.
     So I do what any stupid kid would do, I lean over and I
kiss him again.  And he responds.  Before long, we're full
on making out, me lying on my back on my couch, him
straddling on top of me, leaning in to keep our lips in
contact, his hands rubbing underneath my shirt.  I'm
completely sober by this time, and I'm pretty sure that he
is, too, and that makes it even better.
     Our lips part for only moments so I can help him take
his shirt off, and then he's leaning in again, kissing me
passionately.  He begins to feel me up under my shirt,
reaches my chest and then stops.
     "Whoa," he says.
     "What?"  I look at him.  Oh shit, is he freaking out?
     "I went to go feel up your tits, only."
     "Only I don't have any.  Is that going to be a
problem?"  He looks at me and chuckles a little bit.
     "At this moment, not in the slightest."  I take my
shirt off and we begin to make out again.  I can tell he
wants to take things farther but is hesitant to, because
he's not really sure what he's doing.  I figure that he's
made enough first moves for one night, and undo his pants.
I flip us over so that he's lying on his back now and I'm
over him, and I take my pants off.  Normally, I'm not this
forward, but everything I do with him just feels so natural
and right, and the opposite of self-conscious.  I position
myself lower so that my knees are between his legs and if I
were to bend over, which of course I will, my head would be
right at his penis.
     I pull his pants down, and then his boxers, and he
kicks them off.  I get my first full look at his naked body.
He's so fucking hot, oh my god.  Thin and toned and pale but
slightly tanned, and he's a got a thankfully hard cock to
match his body - long and slender and perfect.
     I lean in and begin to lick the head of his penis, and
then I slowly begin to slide it down my throat.  I begin a
rhythm.  I like giving head - its sort of fun, and I like
making other people happy - and I think that I'm pretty good
at it.  I suck his cock off a little bit, and then begin to
lick and suck his balls.  He seems a little bit surprised at
first (I find that gay guys are far more adventurous
sexually and I'm pretty sure that no girl our age would have
the balls to venture into that area) but he begins to really
enjoy it.  I jack him off while licking first his balls,
which makes him shiver - I'd move to his asshole, but I
think he might freak him out a little bit too much - and
then I begin to blow him again.  Faster and faster until he
comes, moaning and panting and sweaty.  I swallow his whole
load, something I don't often do, and actually enjoy the
taste of his cum.
     He reaches down and pulls me back up to his mouth and
kisses me, hard.  There's a bit of a surprised look on his
face, because there's still a little bit of his jiz residue
on my tongue and I'm sure it's not a taste he was expecting.
He probably doesn't usually kiss girls after they give him
head.
     "You swallowed?" he says.
     "Yup."
     "Most girls don't.  Cool." And he smiles at me.
     And then I just lay in his arms, him catching his
breath and coming down from his orgasmic high.  I still have
my boxers on, and I'm really hard from the experience, but I
don't expect anything from him.  It's his first time with
another guy, and physically touching another penis might
make him cross a line that he's not ready to cross.
     He's still lying on his back, and he turns to his side
and looks at me.  Our legs are entangled and he cautiously
begins stroking my chest with his index finger.
     "Jesus fucking Christ," he says.  "That was the best
fucking head I've ever gotten."  And then he smiles at me
and kisses my nose.  Oh God, I love his smile.  Meanwhile,
his hand begins to roam more unashamedly over my body,
slowly downward until he reaches the elastic of my boxers.
He stops for a moment, and then slips his hand under and
begins to rub my cock, something I didn't expect him to do.
But then again, he's shocked me more than once tonight.
     "You don't have to -" I begin.
     "This doesn't feel weird," he says to me.  Wow.  He
begins to slowly jack me off under my boxers, the whole
while maintaining eye contact.  It's a slightly less
practiced motion than I'm used to, but the fact that it's
with Roman makes it one of the best hand jobs I've had.  He
pulls his hand out of my boxers and begins to pull them
down.  I help him, and together we manage to get them off my
body.  He then continues to pump my cock, more and more
confidently until I come.  I spew all over both of our
stomachs, but thankfully don't get any on the couch.  I lean
over and grab my undershirt and wipe it up.  Before I get
rid of it all, Roman takes some on his finger and brings it
to his mouth, tasting my cum.
     "I just wanted to know." he says.  We lay in each
other's arm for a little while longer, and I look over at
the clock on the VCR: 6:33.  I didn't even notice it get
light again.  I suddenly begin to feel very tired, and I
stand up to throw my boxers back on.
     "Jesus," Roman says, sitting up on the couch and
looking over my naked body.  "You're really fucking hot."  I
begin to blush - I don't do well with complements.
     "And really cute when you blush," he adds.  He walks
toward me and kisses me again.  We part.  I put on my
boxers, and likewise he puts on his undershirt and his
boxers.
     "I'm kind of tired," I say.  "Do you want to sleep
here?"  I hope he says yes.
     He just nods his consent and follows me to my bedroom.
I begin to pull back my sheets, and he says "actually, I'm
just gonna go out for a smoke.  I'll come back in a few
minutes."
     I fall asleep almost immediately, alone.