The Moon in Your Eyes
(a.k.a. Free Thinker)
Disclaimer: The following contains scenes of sexual activity between males. If
you find this offensive or if it is illegal for you to read this in your particular
jurisdiction, please do not do so. The author does not condone the violation of
Please send any comments or suggestions to ChrisWriter@msn.com. I enjoy
reading your email and try to answer as many as I can. I appreciate your
feedback and commentary.
You may find another story I am writing, entitled A Canterbury Tale, in the
Adult/Youth section of Nifty. It is actually a series of stories set in a northern
college town. I invite you to read it and hope you will enjoy it, as well.
The Moon in Your Eyes
All I could think about Sunday night and Monday morning, even displacing my concerns over the Tuesday meeting with the Headmaster, was that amazing experience with Jeff on my bed Sunday afternoon. Nothing had ever felt so good and nothing had ever left me in such an obsessive state. I masturbated three more times that night remembering the incredible feeling and dreaming of doing the same to him. Monday morning, Labor Day, I awoke early with a screaming erection and was about to do it yet again, despite my having rubbed raw a spot on the side of my penis, when I realized I could run over to Jeff's and have the real thing! Quickly, I jumped up from the bed and threw on a pair of Bermuda shorts, a t-shirt, and a pair of Keds. I ran down the stairs and through the kitchen, passing Fred as he munched toast, reminding me of a cow chewing his cud.
"Where the Hell do you think you're goin'?" he barked, spitting bits of mushy toast all over the breakfast table.
"I'm running over to Jeff's for a minute."
"Why don't you eat some breakfast first and then run over the yard with the lawn mower."
No. This couldn't be happening. I needed it. I needed it bad. I needed it NOW!
"I just mowed it the other day," I whined from inside the dining room.
"Don't argue with me! It needs it again. Set your ass down here, eat some breakfast and then get out there and mow before it gets too hot and damages the grass."
The Brat was laying on the carpet in the living room watching a cartoon and started giggling. I looked at her and saw the giggle was for me and my situation and not for her cartoon.
"Shut up!" I yelled.
"YOU shut up!" my stepfather barked. "Leave her alone. Now get in here!"
The next hour and a half seemed to be the longest of my life, but I somehow managed to finish the yard in record time and even without my stepfather's usual criticism and demands that I re-do certain areas. Seconds after replacing the mower in the tool shed in the back yard, I was running, covered in sweat, dirt, and grass, up Twenty-first St. to Jeff's house.
Because I was so dirty, I went to the back door. I wanted to take a shower, but I couldn't wait to get my hands, or my mouth, on Jeff's dick.
Mrs. Robinson came to the door with Mr. Robinson following behind with a scowl.
"Good morning, Scotty," she said stepping past me and down the porch to the driveway. I tried not to scowl myself at the use of the nickname I had always loathed. "Jeff's still in bed. Why don't you wake him up. Ted and I are going to the Club for brunch. There are sandwiches in the fridge if you want them.
"Thank you, ma'am. Have a good time."
She gave me a sickeningly sweet smile; Mr. Robinson raised an unenthusiastic eyebrow and followed his wife to the LTD.
If Jeff was still in bed, then this was perfect! Quietly, I slipped down the stairs to the basement and, with as much stealth as possible, turned the knob and opened the door.
The bedroom was almost pitch black, but I could see the covers thrown back on the empty bed just as I heard the water in the shower turn on. My erection lurched in my shorts. The thought of Jeff naked in the shower was too much.
Just as I closed the door, I began to rip my dirty clothes off. This was more than perfect. I could clean myself and have fun with Jeff at the same time! It took less than ten seconds for me to find myself standing before the bathroom door naked and with a rigid, five inch erection pointing upward.
The door was only half closed and the light from the window beside the shower was shining into the bedroom. It was showing on a table beside the easel on which were a number of art supplies, including a ruler. Suddenly, I was seized with an idea. I picked up the ruler and crept into the bathroom.
Through the translucent turquoise shower curtain, I could see Jeff soaping up his slim body. It was everything I could do not to run into the shower and take him in my arms. I stood watching, feeling my hormones going crazy as my dick jumped and bobbed in front of me. Jeff's hands were gliding up and down his body and he seemed to be really getting into himself. I could tell he was because I could just barely see his erection through the plastic. Then, he poured another bit of shampoo on his right hand and wrapped it around his boner.
I shifted the ruler to my left hand and, with my right, grabbed my pulsing erection. Slowly, I mimicked Jeff's moves, stroking my boner at just the same pace as he.
I almost shot as I heard him moan and start whispering, "Oh, yeah, Scott. Suck me, suck me, Scott. Suck my dick!" My heart could have burst at that moment. Jeff was fantasizing about me as he masturbated!
I don't know why it should have surprised me; I fantasized about him. I loved him. He loved me. Why wouldn't he fantasize about me? It was just a surprise and so sweet that I almost decided not to do what I had planned. Almost, but not quite. The opportunity was just too good to miss.
I released my dick and took the ruler back in my right hand. Slowly, I stepped up to the shower. Jeff's moans and whimpers were growing louder. I had to act quickly before he came. And, then...
In one lightening flash, I threw open the curtain, raised the ruler, and slashed downward repeatedly as I screeched a very poor imitation of the incidental music as Tony Perkins slashed Janet Leigh in Psycho.
Jeff screamed and fell against the wall, a look of absolute terror on his face, as he clutched his chest.
I burst into hysterical laughter, but my hilarity ended abruptly when I realized just how intensely I had frightened my boyfriend. He was laying against the wall, trembling, gasping for breath, looking at me with wild eyes.
"Jeff, I'm sorry," I said, my voice alternating between sympathy and sorry on the one hand, and wanting to laugh my ass off on the other.
"You... you... bastard. You... you motherfucker. You fucking son of a bitch...."
This was certainly an education for me. I had never heard Jeff use such language. My sweet boyfriend was definitelypissed off.
"I'm sorry, Jeff. I just couldn't resist. It was just too perfect an opportunity."
Jeff remained leaning against the wall, his erection most definitely wilted, gasping for breath, staring at me with fury in his eyes. But, as he looked over my naked form, and my own wilting hard-on, and as the humor left my face and my regret and sorrow overcame my sense of hilarity, he sighed.
"Bastard," he whispered as his face lightened ever so slightly. "Come here, damn it."
I smiled, set the ruler down on the sink, and stepped into the shower. Closing the curtain, I stood with my back to the water and held out my arms. Jeff took another deep breath, scrunched his eyes up at me for one last admonishment, and then leaned against my body. I folded my arms around his slim frame and held him tightly.
"I love you, Vim," I whispered.
"I heard a sigh and he whispered, "I love you, too."
We stood for a moment, holding each other, drawing on each other's strength until Jeff finally looked up at me and said, with a grin, "You're filthy. Let me wash you."
He stood back as I allowed the water to rush over me. He then picked up the soap and, sudsing up his hands, began to run them over my torso. He covered ever inch of my body. Both our penises had resumed their earlier states of arousal by this time and when Jeff slid his soapy hands underneath my balls, I cried out. He gave me his toothy grin and then soaped up his own body.
Realizing what he had in mind, I felt a sudden sharp surge deep within me and my penis, already as hard as steel, seemed to grow even more rigid. I pushed him against the wall of the shower and leaned against him, our arms wrapping around each other. Our bodies slid against each other and the erotic sensations of skin sliding against slick skin were out of this world.
Both of us were moaning by now and Jeff's face was flushed with excitement. I began to thrust my hips against him, sliding my rigid teenage cock up against his abdomen. Jeff fucked back against me and we both seemed to lose control as we worked with each other against each other.
"Oh, God, Jeff! I love you!" I cried, feeling my orgasm about to explode.
"Eng, eng, eng," was all Jeff could say in his delirium.
And, then, I screamed.
The water had suddenly turned ice cold.
In spite of his crazed state of mind, Jeff burst out laughing as I desperately sought to shield him from the cold and, at the same time, turn off the nozzle. With my mission accomplished, we stood facing each other, still partially covered with soap, still pulsingly erect. Jeff leaned forward and kissed me on the lips.
Quickly, I turned the water back on and we rinsed off and fast as we could. Then, Jeff wrapped himself up in his bath towel, hopped out and withdrew one from the closet for me. Wrapped in our towels, we ran shivering from the bathroom to Jeff's bed, where we sat and dried each other off. I paid special attention to Jeff's thick hair, which had turned a darker shade of blond in its wetness. Jeff raised his hands and ran his fingers through his hair, partially straightening it and giving it a wild though controlled look. It hung over his ears and over his face. He looked at me through his long, blond bangs, his head bent downward, his eyes looking up, his lips open and never had he or any other boy in the history of the world looked more sexy, more beautiful.
"God," I whispered. "You are so beautiful."
Still slightly damp, I pushed Jeff back against the bed. We crawled under the sheet and blanket as I wrapped my arms around him again. My face just inches above his, I gazed once more into his eyes, and then our lips came together.
Jeff whimpered as I rolled over on top of him and began to kiss him deeply, thrusting my tongue deep into his mouth. I brought my right hand up and caressed his face. After several minutes, I came up for air. Jeff opened his eyes and seemed only half conscious. I smiled at him and he sighed.
"Scott," he asked softly. "Would you do to me what I did to you yesterday?"
I felt that surge again, you know, the one you get when you know something hot is about to happen. Breathlessly, I said, "Oh, yeah."
Only, this time would be different. I leaned down and placed my mouth on Jeff's throat and licked it all over. Jeff groaned and writhed beneath me. I moved down, licking his shoulders and chest. I started to lick one of his nipples, but I thought that would tickle him, (silly me!), so I moved on down to his tummy, which did tickle him. As he giggled and twisted beneath me, I felt another surge. I could see his rigid penis just inches from my face. I wanted to lean down and take it in my mouth right then, but I had other plans for my sweet Jeff.
I lifted up off my boyfriend, pulled the sheet and blanket back and scooted down his legs. I came to his feet, which, seemed to me to be just a little too big for his legs, prompting me to wonder why, when a boy goes through puberty, every part of his body can't have growth spurts at the same time. But, it didn't matter. They were still beautiful, still erotic, still hot. I licked the bottom of his left foot, causing his to jump and squeal, and cry out, "Oh, Scott!"
I held his foot and licked all over it, running my tongue between his toes and making him shiver. I sucked each toe into my mouth and his whimpers became one continuous moan.
I couldn't believe I was doing this. It seemed so erotic, so sexy, so naughty. I ran my tongue around the toes as I sucked them and watched as Jeff reached down with his right hand and grabbed his throbbing boner.
"Ah, ah, ah," I chided him as I reached up and knocked his hand away.
"Oh, God, Scott! I can't stand it. Please suck my dick."
I smiled and slowly moved up his slim calf, kissing the smooth skin, running my hands lovingly up and down his leg, caressing the soft, sparse, almost invisible hairs. I fondled his knee and kissed the side of it, causing him to jerk his leg. Then, I began to seriously drive him crazy. I opened his legs up, exposing the soft, creamy, almost alabaster skin of the inside of his thighs. Softly, I ran the tips of my fingers over the sensitive skin and he cried out again. I leaned forward and kissed all over his left thigh for several minutes, feeling him tremble and quake beneath me, hearing the desperate gasps for air above. However, it was nothing compared to what happened when I began to lick.
I ran my tongue up the inside of his thigh and Jeff cried, "Aaaaaaah, aaaaaaah, aaaaaaaaah!" The closer I came to his special place, the louder and more plaintive his cries became. Soon, my nose was just inches from his hairless balls. I looked up and saw his eyes glued on my face, his mouth open in a gasp, and his penis jerking stiffly before me.
With our eyes locked on each other, I opened my mouth and slowly stuck my tongue out. Jeff's eyes grew wider as the tip of my tongue slowly approached his ball sac. He began to tremble in anticipation and when my tongue came into contact with the tight skin holding his balls snugly against the base of his dick, he closed his eyes and threw his head back, his mouth open in a silent scream.
Slowly, relentlessly, I licked his balls as he squirmed and writhed beneath me, desperately grasping at the sheets beneath him. I ran my tongue in the groove between his balls and his thighs, causing him to squeal.
I couldn't take it anymore; I reached between my legs and grabbed my rigid boner and began masturbating as fast and as hard as I could.
"AAAHHH! Oh, PLEASE!!!!" Jeff begged.
I realized that if I couldn't take it anymore, he certainly couldn't. I relented and moved my tongue up from his balls to the throbbing shaft of his penis. It pulsed upward hard against my tongue.
Jeff grabbed my head and pushed his penis into my mouth. I gagged as I felt his stiff dick enter and press against the back of my throat. I did nothing as he held my head and fucked my mouth.
And, then, he screamed and I tried to cry out around the penis in my mouth. I nearly lost consciousness as I crashed over the barrier and began shooting all over Jeff's legs and my mouth began to fill with Jeff's bittersweet creamy sperm. He bucked and twisted, as did I, while sperm dripped from my lips and onto his abdomen.
It seemed forever, yet it ended all too soon. Eventually, Jeff let go and my head collapsed onto his thigh.
I awoke to the sound of thunder. A late summer storm had erupted outside as we slept. Slowly, I looked up and saw Jeff awakening. I crawled up his body, took him in my arms and kissed him gently on his puffy lips.
We spent the rest of the afternoon, as the rain fell outside, alternating between
loving each other and just enjoying each other's company. Jeff climbed from
bed at one point and sat before his easel working on the painting of the English
church while I lay on the bed reading from Jeff's copy of David Copperfield.
Every so often, he would return to the bed and we would love a bit more before
he resumed his art and I my reading.
Tuesday. As Jeff and I walked to homeroom, we endured the usual taunts and pranks. I believed I was referred to as "Plebe" three times and "WT" twice while Jeff was called "Prettyboy" at least a couple of times. I was slammed against a locker by the Pustulent Sophomore, but we were no worse for the wear by the time we entered Civics. Mr. Gordon was not in the room, but Kelly and Randy were. Jeff waved and said hi as we passed their desks on the front row. I smiled as well and said hello to both. The uncertain smiles on their faces burst into thrilled grins as I acknowledged them. I had to admit that they were just too cute, almost as cute as my precious Jeff!
Mr. Gordon entered and seemed rather more somber than usual. After the bell, the Pledge of Allegiance, and the Lord's Prayer, (this was a private school, afterall), Baldwin the Younger came sauntering into class. Mr. Gordon said nothing, though his scowl spoke far more eloquently.
"Mr. Forrester and Mr. Robinson," he said gravely, "you are to report to the Headmaster's office."
This soon? Jeff turned around and looked at me with fear on his face. This was very strange. Baldwin the Younger chuckled as we stood up. All eyes in the class were on us as we walked out the door, my face burning furiously as was Jeff's, particularly when we both heard Baldwin the Younger chuckling as we exited.
As we proceeded down the hallway toward the Headmaster's office, Jeff looked at me with a worried expression.
"I know we had the meeting, but all of a sudden I'm scared. Something doesn't feel right."
"I know," I replied. "Mr. Gordon looked really funny. And, Jim Baldwin was chuckling. If his brother was getting in trouble, he wouldn't be laughing like that."
Jeff sighed nervously. "Something's not right."
Father Parker was just entering the anteroom to the Headmaster's office as we arrived. He, too, had a serious, even worried, expression on his face. However, when he saw us come up behind him, his face softened and he smiled reassuringly at us.
"How are you boys this morning?"
Jeff hesitated, so I stepped in.
"We're OK. Is everything going to be alright?" I asked.
Father Parker gave a non-committal smile.
"I've had some interesting conversations over the weekend. I am of the belief that life for you two at St. Steve's should be getting a little less difficult."
The Headmaster's secretary buzzed him as Jeff and I sat down. Father Parker went on into the office.
Jeff and I nervously glanced around the office, checking out the old black and white photos on the wall of students from years past, great St. Stephen's football teams, famous alumni. Jeff giggled as we checked out some boys from the fifties with their greased up hair and I pointed out a really old picture of Mr. Gordon when he was a student here. He still wore the same bow tie he did in the eleventh grade!
Suddenly, the door to the office burst open and Mr. Ostrander stormed out. He froze when he saw Jeff and I sitting apprehensively in the corner. It was obvious he was trying to control his anger and think of something to say. Suddenly, he just seemed to give up. He came up to us and just shook his head as he affectionately squeezed our shoulders. Then, without a word, he walked out the door.
We looked at each other. The fear in Jeff's eyes broke my heart. I wanted to hug him so badly, but the witch-looking woman behind the desk was watching us out of the corners of her narrow, dark eyes. I didn't dare do anything out of the ordinary, so I tried to give him strength through my eyes and smile.
What little peace there was in the office was shattered suddenly as the buzzer on the secretary's telephone went off.
"Yes, Headmaster," she said primly as she replaced the receiver. She looked at us and, with disapproval dripping from her voice, announced, "You may enter."
I kept reminding myself as Jeff and I stood and walked to the door of the Headmaster's office, that we hadn't done anything wrong. Yet, guilt fought with fear in my heart as I turned the knob with a trembling hand.
Jeff stood back fearfully as I opened the door. I pulled him by the sleeve and we both entered.
The office was dark, made more so by the oppresive oak paneling and the bookshelves lining three of the walls. Heavy curtains were drawn over the windows on the fourth wall. The Headmaster was seated not at his desk in front of the windows, but at a round table in the far corner. Beside him was a slightly overweight man in his forties. It was obvious even to an eighth grader such as I that his longish black hair was combed downward to cover his receding hairline. A look of severe impatience clouded his face as he scowled darkly at us. Father Parker was seated in a leather chair to the side, facing away from the Headmaster and the mysterious man. He smiled at us and nodded as we entered.
"Come in, boys," said the Headmaster. He was working his hands behind the table in a disturbing way, working his body around in a way that reminded me, for some reason, of something or someone I could not put my finger on.
"Come in and stand before the table. This is William Baldwin, boys. He is a member of the Board of Trustees of St. Stephen's and we... he... has a few questions."
This news made my stomach constrict. I could only imagine what Jeff was feeling.
Suddenly, I realized who the Headmaster reminded me of. Normally, he wasn't so oily or wormy, but this persona was disturbing. It gave me the willies. Over the weekend, I had reached the part in David Copperfield where David has runaway to Aunt Betsy Trotwood, who adopts him and then sends him to school in Canterbury. David lodges with Aunt Betsy's attorney, Mr. Wickfield, who has, as his assistant, the oily, slimy, butt-kissing snake Uriah Heep! That was who he reminded me of. Our Headmaster was Uriah Heep!
"Boys," the Headmaster started before he was interrupted by Mr. Baldwin.
"When Mr. Ostrander interrupted your conversation with Mike the other day, did he make an insulting comment about me or the Board?"
I was so takien aback by the abrupt nature of Mr. Baldwin's voice and the completely bizarre question that I simply stood looking at him in fear and confusion.
"Um, I don't remember that. I remember that Mike and a bunch of his friends were bullying us and...
"Did he make an insulting comment about me? That's a simple question."
Jeff stood silently next to me, trembling. I took a deep breath.
"Mike smarted-off to him and he said that you wouldn't be able to buy his way out of this."
Mr. Baldwin looked at me with thin, evil eyes.
"And, then, Friday, when Jeff and I were walking to school, he and his gang...."
"That's enough," Mr. Baldwin declared as he stood up. "Fenster, I don't have time for this. What we have here are a couple of sissies who can't take normal schoolyard teasing and some insubordinate adults who want to coddle them and over-react!"
At that, he looked at Father Parker, who flushed angrily, but remained silent.
"We've dealt with coddlers over-reacting. But, the board won't tolerate insubordination or disrespect from teachers."
The Headmaster suddenly looked at Jeff and me with a worried expression and said, "Boys, that will be all. You may return to class."
Mr. Baldwin seemed to understand that he should say no more in front of us and glowered until we reached the door.
As soon as we were standing in the anteroom and the door was closed, Jeff remained motionless looking at the floor. He had said nothing the entire time and now he looked utterly defeated. As the full import of what had just happened hit me, I became overwhelmed with anger.
The witch behind the desk cleared her throat and awoke us from our reveries. I tugged at Jeff and we went outside to the hallway. I fell against the wall and Jeff remained catatonic, staring at the floor. I was speechless with anger.
After several minutes, the door to the anteroom burst open and Mr. Baldwin stormed out and headed down the hallway away from us, oblivious to us standing there behind him. Once he had disappeared around the corner, Jeff fell against me and I wrapped my arms around him.
"Its so unfair," he whispered softly. "Its so unfair."
"I know." I stroked his soft hair, not knowing what to say, not knowing if anything I could say would do any good.
Slowly, I pulled at him and we began to walk down the hallway back to Civics. I had my arm around Jeff's shoulder and I could hear him sniff every so often. As we turned the corner, I glanced back down the hallway and saw Father Parker standing at the door to the Headmaster's anteroom. He had a sad look on his face. I started to say something, but he simply waived me off and turned around. I squeezed Jeff and whispered, "We'll make it, Jeff. We'll make it."
My little Dutch boyfriend looked up at me with tear-filled eyes.
"Eekhowfanyou," he whispered. I love you.
And, so, Chapter Nine ends. Please let me know what you think by writing to me at ChrisWriter@msn.com. I am grateful for your email and will attempt to answer everyone. Thank you for reading my stories.