Date: Thu, 17 Dec 98 21:14:05 -0600
From: dogbert1@usa.net
Subject: MORP 3

That's right, kids, there's another one.  Back by popular demand, it's
those crazy kids from the original morp story.  A couple of clarifications
- the Eric that I dedicated this series of stories to is the same Eric that
is one of the main characters.  He DOES exist, and he is NOT "KrypTiX."  If
the object of my affections ever reads these stories, I'll commit ritual
suicide...right after we have sex.  Actually, if KrypTiX reads these, I'll
probably kill myself, too.  (That's yer warning, bud.)  As usual, all
comments, roses, money, and Christmas gifts can be sent to
dogbert1@usa.net.  I'll reply to all of 'em.  :-)

The Christmas season is upon us...a heartfelt wish for nothing but the best
in holiday cheer and cool presents during this Yuletide season, from me to
you and yours.

DISCLAIMER - Two teenage boys having sex with each other in something that
is definitley NOT the missionary position.  Disgusted? then GET THE HELL
OUTTA HERE.  For the love of ..... anyways, the previous statement also
applies to those of you who would be violating laws, written or implied, by
reading this.  Don't let your parents catch you.

Part 3 - Plot Twist *again*

	Dear Journal,
	I saw Eric again two days ago, and we exchanged bodily fluids.  It
felt so good to be with him...I think I might be falling in love.  I can't
say for sure, however; I haven't had a non-sexual encounter with him yet.
Speaking of encounters, I do have another sexual one for you, Journal.
(Why do I keep referring to you in second-person?  Something must be wrong
with me.)  This one gets kinda weird; in fact, I have a hard time believing
that it really happened to me.

	Eric came up to me the other day at school last week and asked me
if I wanted to go to a concert with him in Bismarck.  Everclear was
playing, and he had two tickets, so I said, hell yeah!  I agreed to drive
'cause Eric's terrified of doing something bad on the freeway.  We decided
it would work best if we made this a two-day outing, so both of us lied to
our parents; I told my mom I was going to a concert with my friend Paul's
family.  I don't know what Eric said; maybe he didn't say anything.

	That Friday night, which was two days ago (I'm even congruent this
time, Journal!  How sick is that?  Once again, I think something is wrong
with me.), we went to the concert.  We hopped in my '93 Grand Am and rolled
away, five hours (as the maniac drives) to Bismarck.  The drive down to
Bismarck would have been enough of a weekend for me - I got to listen to
Eric's entire life story, more or less.  I think I'll start watching pro
hockey now, too.  Man, the things I do for him.  But anyways, Everclear
isn't exactly a talented band to begin with, but they sure sound great
live.  They played a great set - that Father of Mine song sounds really
neat when they do it live, 'cause he stands there and screams the whole
time.  They had a bunch of cops enforcing the no moshing rule, which was
really dumb, 'cause the Bismarck Civic is standing-room-only.  But
whatever.  We saw the concert, and we drove to a reasonably cheap motel
where Eric said he had reservations.  The conversation went something like
this.
	"Can I help you?"
	"Yeah, reservations for Decker."
	"Okay, sir, one moment...sorry, no reservations for that name."
	"WHAT?"
	"Nothing we can do about it, sir; we're packed tonight.  I'm really
sorry..."
	"Yeah, whatever."  Then we left.
	So we had a problem...nowhere to sleep.  This was a bad thing.  I
was really sleepy, and my arms ached from driving the whole way down.
Don't ask me why that is, but they do that sometimes.  Eric was tired, too;
it showed in his face.  We ended up stopping at a rest area a little west
of Valley City.
	"So, where are we gonna sleep?" Eric asked.
	"Look behind you."
	Eric complied, and his facial expression melted from one of total
confusion to one of utter distaste.  "You don't mean..."
	"Yeah, looks like we get to camp in the back seat.  Don't worry; at
least this isn't my old car.  Get the sleeping bag out of the back seat,
would you?"  By this time, it was nearly 2 or 3 am; I can't remember.  Eric
complied, and I got out and looked at the stars.  A few moments later, Eric
re-appeared.
	"Turn to your left a bit, could you?" he asked.  I did, feeling
rather confused.  "Okay, great.  Now I can kiss you."  And he did...I
pulled his short form into my arms and relaxed for the first time that
night.  As tongues parted lips, I felt at peace with myself, my bruises,
and the world.  Everything really was okay...forever and a day later, we
broke our embrace when headlights flew past us on the freeway, not too
terribly far away.  "Sorry, I always wanted to kiss someone under the
stars, with a nice outdoor background or something, and, well, the
bathrooms just weren't doin' it for me.  Much nicer scenery over that way."
Eric pointed behind me and I looked; there were some real live hills, a
phenomenon non-existent in eastern North Dakota.  I nodded agreement,
clapped him on the back, and crawled into my car's rather comfy back seat.
Eric followed shortly thereafter, snuggling up atop me.
	"It's uh, a little warm under here," I complained.
	"So take yer clothes off," came the expected reply.
	"I will if you will."  Something about getting naked always
inspires me to be bashful and silly, like a kid in junior high changing for
P.E. for the first time.  Eric gave me a weird look and rolled off me, into
the footwells of my car.  Once there, he somehow managed to strip himself
down to boxers.  I did the same, using only the light of the nearby parking
lot light to both make sure I wasn't dropping anything, and to scope out
the shadows revealing the intense tone of Eric's upper body.  His
blondish-brown hair looked almost pale gray in the admittedly horrible
lighting, but the glow that seemed to surround the rest of him made him
look exactly like a floppy-haired angel...my angel.  (Wow, Journal, I'm a
sappy motherfucker.)
	Eric crawled back atop me and we lay there together for a few
minutes.  The heat and the smell of each other (Eric ALWAYS smells like
Tommy cologne, I wanna know how he does that!) made us both rather, um,
aroused.  I guess neither one of us really felt like doing anything sexual,
'cause neither one of us made any quick moves towards each other.  That was
okay with me; I'd just had a really long night.  I was having difficulty
telling the passage of time now that my car was turned off; I couldn't see
the clock, and I never learned how to tell time by the moon.  As I was
contemplating the regularity of lunar cycles and their usefulness in
telling me what time of day it was, I felt Eric press his groin into my
stomach.  He moaned softly, and I suddenly became hornier than I think I've
ever been in my life.  Except now, I think.  Just kidding.  But it had a
real effect on me, and I pushed back, pushing my genitals towards his.  Not
a word was exchanged; just a few guttural noises and deep breaths, but it
was mutually decided that this would be our form of sexual release.  Soon
the thrusts developed a rhythm, and an unknown number of really, really
satisfying minutes later, we both reached critical mass.  Very loudly.  In
the only part of my mind that was not occupied with the amazing sensations
tearing through my body at breackneck speeds, I was worried that maybe
someone would hear us from the freeway and come investigate.  My worries
dissolved immediatley as the afterglow set in, and I grabbed my t-shirt in
order to clean us both off.
	"Don't you need that?" Eric asked.
	"Nope, I got another in the trunk."  With that, I kissed him gently
on the lips and hugged him tight.  "G'night, sweetie."
	"Sweetie?  What the fuck?"  Eric looked hurt.  "Go to sleep, you
faggot."  And he rested his head on my chest and let his entire body relax.
	"Whatever.  See you in the morning, you queer."

	Morning rolled around, and I was awoken by a laser beam shining
directly into my eyes.

	Upon closer examination, the beam was not a laser, but rather a
piercing ray of sunlight burning into my very soul.  I raised a hand to
turn away the oppressive light, and looked at the sleeping form of Eric,
still resting quite comfortably on my chest.  He was sleeping like a rock,
breathing slowly and deeply...the sound was like music to my ears.  I
thought to myself of that Aerosmith song, the one with the line, "I could
stay awake / just to hear / your breathing / watch you smile while you are
sleeping, / while you're far away and dreaming," and I started humming it
to myself, while watching the sleeping beauty atop me.  The total
perfection (save my arm, which was beginning to ache again from being held
up to block the sun) of the situation brought a tear to my eye, and when I
moved my other arm to brush it away, Eric stirred.
	"Good morning, sleepyhead."  After surreptitiously moving away the
tear, I ruffled his hair.
	"Yeah, yeah, whatever.  C'mon, let's get dressed."  Eric mumbled,
reaching for his clothes.  I climbed out of the back seat (not an easy task
in a 2-door car) and stretched.  Then I dug around in my trunk for my other
clothes, and put a shirt on, 'cause it's hella cold in the mornings in late
October.  Eric finished dressing and we settled into the front seat.  I
started the car and turned on the radio, trying to find a Valley City
station.  I was greeted with the opening strains of the Aerosmith song I
had been humming to myself a few moments ago.  I smiled to myself and
debated whether or not I wanted to cry.  "Let's go get somethin' to eat,
okay?"  Eric looked at me very plaintivley, and I agreed.
	We drove into Valley City and stopped at a Perkins there.  The
hostess seated us and returned to her business, talking to some truckers
that looked like they hadn't cared about personal hygeine once in the last
30 years.  A waitress in her late 40s appeared and offered us coffee.
"Hell, yes, and keep it comin', too," Eric urged.  I also took coffee, and
set about the task of making it perfect, a task which involved the adding
of a container of cream...and about sixty packets of sugar.  As I was
stirring my coffee, waiting for it to thicken into a syrup-like state, Eric
downed half a cup of coffee in a minute or so.  "God damn, I needed that.
I don't get along very well with mornings...unless you've got bacon, watch
out."  Eric's reactions of the morning made a lot more sense now - he was
just even less of a morning person than I.
	"That's okay," I reassured him, and the waitress returned.  We
ordered, and then talked about the concert until our food came.  Like a
pack of wild pigs, we devoured our breakfast, Eric in particular showing no
mercy towards his bacon, eggs, and pancakes.  We left a hefty tip for the
waitress and were on our way home.  The trip passed a lot more quietly than
did the trip down; neither one of us said much.  I complained a bit about
my shoulder hurting, and Eric sighed and crawled over his seat, into the
back.  He settled down behind me and began to massage my shoulders as I was
driving.
	"OW!  Mmmm...ohh, man, that's just what I needed.  Thanks," I
raved.
	"Hey, no problem.  You're an okay guy," Eric replied.
	"Yeah, you too.  We should do this again sometime."
	"Are you kidding?  Every night should be like last night."
	"Yeah, no shit."  I smiled to myself; Eric DID have as much fun as
I thought he had.  We spent the rest of the trip home going over every
second of the previous day's events, and I felt amazingly depressed when I
dropped him off at home early that afternoon.  "Gimme a call sometime,
okay?"
	"Yeah, sure, whatever.  Thanks for the ride!" Eric grabbed his bag
out of my trunk and waved as I drove away.
	Such is life, I thought, and looked at my pile of clothes in the
back seat.  I'll never wash my t-shirt again.  That was pretty much it,
Journal.  I can't wait to see him at school Monday.  Until then...