By Kit
This story is a revised version of Not Always Easy, the original of which was posted to the Nifty Archive a couple of years ago. If you enjoy this story then you might like to take a look at my second story, 'Tapping', which is currently also in the gay/highschool section of the Nifty Archive.
This is a story about a gay teen male and may involve sexual activity between
males, so if this is likely to offend you, or is illegal where you live then
do not read any further. All the events and characters in this story
are fictional and any resemblances to real people are purely coincidental.
The story is copyright of the author and may not be distributed or
placed on any web sites without written permission from the author.
I would like to thank my editor, Richard Lyon, for his hard work and
encouragement and also Richie Ryan for his moral support. Any remaining
errors are purely my own fault.
If you enjoy this story or have any comments about it, please feel free
to send me an email . I will respond to all emails except flames.
Kit
kitzyma@yahoo.com
Prologue
For the first seventeen years of my life everything was simple and easy.
My parents were caring, sensible and supportive, and though they were not
rich, we always had everything we needed and lots of things we didn't really
need at all. At school I got good grades without working too hard and
I got on well with most of my classmates. Even my adolescent acne hadn't
been at all traumatic - it had come and gone in a flurry of spots for a few
months when I was fourteen.
By the time I was sixteen I was pretty sure, but not certain, that I was
gay, and that gave me a few concerns about the future but I didn't agonise
about it. It was just something I'd eventually have to deal with, like
A-level exams and getting into university. However, I wasn't ready
to deal with it just yet and I was firmly in the closet.
The best part of my life was that I had several good friends and two people
in particular were very special for me: a best friend who was like a brother
and my brother who was one of my best friends. Soon after my seventeenth
birthday I came to realise how important friendships can be, how easy it
can be to neglect a friendship, and that friendship is not always easy.
Chapter 1 - A Different Kind Of Friend
It was a Wednesday evening, but for me it wasn't just any Wednesday evening.
After dinner I showered, dressed, looked in the mirror, undressed, then dressed
again. I'd told my parents I was going out to meet some friends but
Mum had seen how nervous I was and I think she suspected I was meeting a
girl. Fortunately, she trusted me and respected my privacy, so she
didn't ask questions or make any comments. My real problem was that
although I'd announced my intention to go into town, I was no longer sure
that it was a good idea.
In my uncertainty, I paced my bedroom, then desperate to calm my mind enough
to reach a decision, I sat on my bed, closed my eyes, and took a deep breath.
At that point, my mobile phone rang, and on its display I saw the name and
number of my best friend, Mike. This wasn't a surprise as we phoned
one another most nights when we didn'tt actually meet. We usually didn't
need any specific reason to call, and just enjoyed the contact.
"Hey, you," I said.
"Hey, you too," Mike responded.
This was one of our 'trademark' greetings. Although it wasn't very
original, I found it very comforting, especially as I was somewhat stressed.
However, I didn't have time for a leisurely chat.
"So, what're you doing tonight?" he continued.
"Actually, I'm just about to go into town and meet up with some guys from
school."
"Oh," he said, sounding a little disappointed, "Well, when you get back,
give me a call and if it's not too late maybe I'll come over."
"Okay," I agreed, "See ya."
I hated lying to him, and we rarely had secrets from each other, but I couldn't
tell him that I was trying to pluck up the courage to go to a meeting of
the town's gay youth group.
Mike was very different from me, but despite that we had been best friends
ever since we were eight years old. He lived in the same street as
I did, but never went to the same schools as he wasn't Catholic. He
was tall, dark-haired, handsome, full of mischief and adventure... and he
had the most incredibly deep blue eyes. In contrast, I was just 'Mr
Average'.
If I had to choose just one word to describe myself, Paul, it would have
to be 'medium'. Medium brown hair, medium hazel eyes, medium height,
medium build, medium looks. I was born in a medium-sized hospital and
lived in a medium-sized house, brought up in a medium sized town, and attended
a medium sized school in England. At school my academic performance
was good, but not spectacular and my sporting abilities were mediocre at
best.
Why we became best friends and how we remained best friends was a mystery
to me as there seemed little that I, 'Mr Average,' could offer such a popular
and fun-loving guy. Maybe it was because I was a point of stability
for him, an area of calm in his turbulent life. Maybe it was because
I never judged him or told him he shouldn't have fun, and he knew that I
and my whole family would be there for him when he needed us.
Between the ages of ten and twelve Mike had needed us a lot as his own family
was going through a messy and vitriolic break-up. After arguing and
fighting for years, his parents divorced when he was twelve and he, an only
child, stayed with his mother in the family home when his father moved out.
During the most unhappy periods in his family life he would spend much of
his time at our house and often stayed overnight, sleeping in the spare bed
in my bedroom.
Unlike me, Mike was a real hell-raiser. He sometimes bunked off school,
and when he was just fourteen he occasionally got drunk and smoked cigarettes.
He often swore, but never in front of my parents or his mother. Once
he was even arrested by the police for painting graffiti on a factory wall.
Actually, I thought it was very artistic, but maybe I was biased. However,
no matter what he did outside, he was always well-behaved in our house and
all my family liked, respected and trusted him.
Ever since I could remember I loved Mike, though never in a sexual way.
Perhaps it sounds silly, but he was too close to me to evoke any sexual desire,
though a couple of times as kids we played 'doctors' and during puberty we
occasionally wanked together. Anyway, even from an early age, when
I was beginning to wonder about my own sexuality, it was clear to me that
Mike was completely and irrevocably heterosexual. There was no macho
posing, no bragging about conquests, just the obvious fact that he was totally
comfortable with his heterosexuality.
I was not quite so comfortable with my sexuality, however, and it was the
one secret I kept from Mike as well as from my family. One excuse I
gave to myself for not saying anything to him was that I still wasn't sure.
However, that excuse seemed a bit lame when I considered that for over four
years I'd been masturbating at least twice per day and every single masturbation
fantasy involved other males and never, ever females. Another excuse
I made for my secrecy was that it should make no difference to anyone whether
I was gay or not, and therefore it was none of their business.
Furthermore, as I didn't particularly like the idea of being gay, I still
hoped my attraction exclusively to other males was a passing phase.
So if it was a phase, I thought, there was no point in making a fuss over
something that may not last.
With regard to that difficult decision, it was not the first time that I'd
faced it. In fact I'd been thinking about the matter fairly frequently
for a couple of years, ever since I'd first seen small announcements in the
local newspaper about a Gay and Lesbian Youth Group . However, until
shortly after my seventeenth birthday, I never really thought seriously about
going. After all, I wasn't sure I was gay.
Maybe it was the course of driving lessons that my parents gave me as a birthday
present that prompted me to be more adventurous, or maybe I'd just been thinking
about it long enough. Whatever the reason, when I turned seventeen
I began to think more seriously about going to the Gay and Lesbian Youth
Group. My idea was that I might go just to see what went on and maybe
decide for sure if I was gay or not. Well, strange as it may seem,
that was the way my mind was working at that time.
The weekly meetings were on Wednesday evenings in the local Technical College,
and a few times I actually decided to go, but changed my mind at the last
minute. Finally, though, as I sat on my bed after talking to Mike on
the phone, I resolved that this time I would follow up on my decision.
Despite that resolve, I hung around outside the building for almost an hour,
walking round and round the block before working up the courage to go inside.
Once inside the building I quickly found the correct room, which was just
as well because if there had been any problems at all I would have scampered
quickly back home. I sidled into the large wood-panelled room and made
myself as small as possible in the nearest corner. Glancing round the
room I saw that in the central area there were about thirty people, mostly
male and ranging in age from about fifteen to twenty. Over at the far
side of the room, sitting together, near a small table with drinks, were
two men and two women, all four of whom appeared to be in their middle thirties.
I had never met anyone I knew for sure was gay, so being in the same room
as all these presumably gay people was an exciting and in some ways liberating
experience, and I no longer felt quite so isolated. As I settled discreetly
into my corner, the first part of the meeting, announcements, discussion
of plans for future events, etc., was just drawing to a close and the 'socialising'
part of the meeting was starting. I just stayed where I was and tried
not to look too much like an outsider. Most of the people in the room
looked like typical sort of youngsters who could have been seen at random
on any street in town, and only a couple of the young men seemed to be behaving
in a way that was obviously gay or 'camp'.
The first person to come over and talk to me was a slim Chinese guy who was
wearing black loose trousers and a grey shirt. He introduced himself
as Ben, and I found out from him that, at twenty, he was one of the oldest
people in the GLYG, apart from the two men and two women who organised and
'chaperoned' the meetings. Ben informed me that when referring to the
GLYG, everyone just used the initials and pronounced it as 'Glig'.
He was friendly, charming, comfortable with his sexuality, and the first
openly gay person that I'd ever conversed with. Besides all that he
was both attractive and, at least in my eyes, exotic, being a Chinese Malaysian
studying computing at the Technical College. Having asked what I wanted
to drink, he brought me an orange juice from the little beverages table.
Something about Ben immediately switched on the lust centres of my brain.
I was immensely flattered that he should be talking to me at all, and even
more flattered when he suggested meeting for a coffee sometime. I couldn't
bring myself to tell him that I didn't much like coffee, so I agreed and
we exchanged phone numbers. That night I couldn't sleep because of
all the excited thoughts buzzing through my brain. My first meeting
with a group of openly gay people and one of the most attractive guys in
the room came over and talked to me. Not only that, but he also asked
me to meet him again. Perhaps this was going to be my first-ever date.
One evening a few days later, Ben phoned me and we arranged a time and place
to meet, and when we got together had such a great time chatting to
him that I even enjoyed the coffee. He fascinated me by talking about
Malaysia, his Chinese heritage, his family, and he even made the mysteries
of computers seem interesting. A couple of days after our coffee meeting,
and fortuitously during my mid-term holiday, he took me to a Chinese restaurant
and introduced me to 'real' Chinese food for the first time. When he
taught me how to use chopsticks properly, I marvelled at his long slim fingers,
which perfectly matched his cute slim face and body. After the meal
he invited me back to his apartment for coffee, and I agreed, telling him
I had to be home by 11 pm.
His one-bedroom apartment was very neat and tidy, and was decorated with
lots of oriental wall-hangings. We sat together on his large, comfortable
sofa, and I really tried hard to relax, but my body just wouldn't obey me.
This was the first time I had ever been alone with another gay person and
I wondered if anything would happen. In fact, I both hoped and feared
that something might happen. Because of the conflict between my desires
and my fears, my brain froze and I lost track of the conversation we were
having. Ben, noticing my silence and seeing me perched tensely on the
edge of the sofa, moved closer to me, and being a couple of inches taller
than my 5'8", he easily put his long arm over my shoulders.
"Tell me to stop if you want," he said.
When he kissed the side of my neck I didn't say anything, and when he stroked
my hair and kissed the side of my face, I felt my tense muscles suddenly
go loose, and I collapsed backwards. Ben leaned over and kissed
me on the lips, gently pushing his tongue into my mouth. This was my
first ever 'French kiss' from anyone and it totally blew me away .
My heart thumped so hard that it hurt and I even forgot to breath.
As Ben continued kissing, he stroked my chest, then he hugged me tight and
placed little kisses all over my face. When his hand drifted down to
the crotch of my jeans I froze again and he asked if I wanted to stop.
Relaxing, I shook my head 'No'. This was first time anyone had touched
me there since my childhood games of 'doctor' with Mike, and as Ben touched
my cock I felt that it was harder than it had ever been before. I reached
over and traced the outline of his cock through his black trousers.
However, as I did that, my feelings of delight rapidly turned to embarrassment
as I shot a load of cum into my underpants.
To say I was mortified would be a gross understatement. I just wanted
to curl up and die, and unable to say a word I just stared at the floor.
Ben knew immediately what had happened, but he was extremely kind and understanding.
"Did you just cum?" he asked, smiling.
Red-faced and filled with shame, I just nodded.
"Is this your first time with another guy?" he continued, and I nodded again.
"Well, I'm very flattered that I had that effect on you! Do you want
to go to the bathroom and clean up?"
Having been concentrating so much on the emotional embarrassment, I'd totally
forgotten about the physical results of my orgasm. It occurred to me
that going home with cum-soaked jeans would not be such a good idea, so I
nodded at his welcome suggestion and speedily headed for the bathroom.
I was very relieved to find that my semen was still mostly in my boxers and
had not yet quite soaked through to my jeans. Eventually, I got myself
cleaned up, taking longer than was really necessary as I was nervous about
returning to Ben in the living room. When I did raise enough courage
to face him, he was all smiles and understanding, but I wanted to leave quickly
anyway, so I declined his offer of something to drink. He said that
as it wasn't even 10 pm yet, it was a pity to end the evening so soon, but
when I insisted on leaving he agreed to drive me home.
When Ben dropped me off outside my house he said he'd phone me soon, but
I thought he was just being polite and didn't believe that such a cute guy
would want to see me again after such a disastrous encounter. After
all, it suddenly occurred to me that he hadn't had the chance to reach his
own orgasm. I rushed into the house, shouted a quick 'Hi' to my parents,
and fled to my bedroom, desperately hoping no one would see me and somehow
guess what I'd been up to.
I sat on my bed, and as my emotions calmed down a little, I remembered that
my mobile phone had been switched off while was with Ben, so I fished it
out of my pocket and switched it on. There was a text message from
Mike, reminding me to call him when I got home. I very nearly didn't
call him because I didn't feel like talking to him just then, mainly because
I didn't know what I could say and was reluctant to lie if he asked me any
direct questions. However, I had promised to phone, and as I didn't
want to break that promise, I called him.
If I had been with a girl I would have told him about the kiss and may even
have admitted to cumming in my pants, though I definitely wouldn't have mentioned
that last bit over the phone. As it was, we discussed the restaurant,
the food, and other general stuff. By the time the call ended I felt
much more relaxed and happy with life, and it occurred to me that if this
calming and soothing effect Mike produced could be bottled and sold, then
he'd make a fortune.
When Ben phoned me two days later, I was pleasantly surprised. He suggested
we meet in the town centre the following Sunday afternoon and maybe go back
to his apartment, which was on the opposite side of town. Now I might
have been inexperienced but I wasn't a complete idiot , and as he mentioned
no other activity apart from going back to his place, it seemed quite likely
to me that he wanted us to carry on from where we left off. The idea
of expanding my sexual experience appealed to me, and in any case I did feel
a little guilty, not only for cumming so quickly but also for leaving him
before he had cum at all. Anyway, to try to avoid a repeat of my last
performance, I made sure to have a wank during the shower I took before setting
off to meet him.
We met in the car park behind the cafe where we'd had our first 'date'.
The dark blue jeans and pale blue top which Ben was wearing really accentuated
his beautiful dark-gold skin and shiny black hair. When he asked if
we should go straight back to his place I quickly agreed, hoping that I didn't
sound too eager or too nervous. Once we arrived at his apartment things
started off as before, only this time I didn't cum as soon as we touched
one another's cocks.
While we were kissing and stroking one another's bodies, he kept boosting
my ego by saying that I was really cute and that I was so good at kissing
he couldn't believe this was only my second time. By the time he suggested
that we take off our clothes I was more than ready to agree and I don't think
I've ever got undressed so quickly. Compared to his golden skin I looked
pasty white, but it was, after all, almost winter and we were in England.
Like me, Ben was totally smooth apart from head, armpits and pubes, but whereas
his pubic hair was a large, thick black bush, my own smaller bush was relatively
sparse and medium brown. His cock, like mine, was uncut and was about
the same length as my 6.5 inches, but his was noticeably thinner.
Ben gently pushed me back on the sofa, and lay on top of me, kissing me and
rubbing our cocks together. I wasn't sure which would explode first,
my cock or my rapidly thumping heart. Then placing his knees on either
side of my thighs, he sat up, looked into my eyes, and started wanking me,
pulling the foreskin backwards and forwards. I reached up and started
rubbing his cock in the same way, and within just a few seconds I squirted
my cum on his chest and his knees, as well as on my face, on my chest, and
on my belly.
The intense and prolonged pleasure was such that I stopped wanking Ben and
could merely give his cock an occasional gentle squeeze. When I returned
to my senses I noticed that Ben was smiling gently and was using his left
hand to rub my cum into my chest and stomach while his right hand retained
his grip on my wilting cock. Seeing my return to full consciousness
he got up off the sofa and went over to get some paper tissues to clean us
both up. It was only then that I realised that my thighs were aching
where he had been sitting on them.
We sat side by side for a couple of minutes while I completed my recovery,
then I reached over and began to wank him, first slowly, then following his
instructions, I speeded up. After less than five minutes he too shot
his load all over his chest and stomach, and I gently cleaned him and my
hand with the tissues he'd left on the arm of the sofa. We lay down
next to one another and continued kissing and cuddling until my cock, which
had never totally softened, began to grow hard again. When he felt
my stiff cock prodding him, he moved down, pulled back my foreskin and started
licking my cock. He then put it in his mouth and started sucking, making
me go rigid with the pleasure of my first ever blow-job. Had I not
already cum less than fifteen minutes earlier, I'm sure I would have cum
within seconds of him putting my cock in his mouth. As it was, the
delicious feelings made my toes curl.
I told Ben that I wanted to do the same to him, so he moved round to a 69
position with me lying on my back and him kneeling over me. Before
putting his cock in my mouth I spent some time revelling in the close-up
sight, smell and touch of it, exploring it in every detail with my hand and
tongue. This was my first ever chance to see another guy's cock quite
so close, and at that moment in time it was the most fascinating and exciting
thing in my universe. For awhile, time became meaningless for me, so
I've no idea how long it was before I came again and Ben swallowed it all.
This time the pleasure was such that it was almost painful, possibly because
it was only a few minutes since my last orgasm and this was my third orgasm
in less than three hours.
While I was basking in the post-orgasmic glow, Ben got up and gave me a deep
kiss. I tasted my cum in his mouth and at first I felt a little queasy
because I'd never tasted cum before, not even my own. Perhaps sensing
my negative reaction, Ben moved and sat at the end of the sofa.
"Wow!! Thanks, Ben," I said, "That was the greatest feeling I've ever had!"
"You're welcome. How would you feel about sucking me off now?"
"Okay," I agreed, though I wasn't enthusiastic about having him cum in my
mouth, "How do you want me to do it?"
"Why not come over here, kneel between my legs and see what you can do."
I did as he suggested, but after a short time, I could sense he was getting
a bit impatient, so I became more energetic and used my lips to push back
his foreskin and began bobbing my mouth up and down. He began instructing
me on using my tongue to rub on the most sensitive bits, then told me to
do it faster and harder. It wasn't long before he came, and despite
my initial reservations I thought it only fair to swallow his cum as he had
swallowed all mine. As it happened it tasted okay and somehow swallowing
his cum didn't seem as bad as tasting my own.
"That was really great," Ben said when I'd finished licking all the cum from
his cock, "it's hard to believe you've not done it before."
Then he leaned over, raised me up off my knees, and started kissing me.
We kissed and cuddled until I noticed the time, and told him I had to be
getting home for my family evening meal. As we dressed we kept touching
one another and exchanging kisses, which made me feel a wonderful deep emotional
'warmth'. Then Ben gave me a ride back into town, promising to call
me again soon.
When I got home I dashed straight to the bathroom to brush my teeth as I
didn't want anyone to smell cum on my breath. Then, going back down
to the kitchen, I found that it was going to be at least another half hour
until food was ready, so I decided to take a quick shower, just in case there
was any smell of sex on my body. I felt happy and elated, but also
a bit sad that I couldn't talk about it with Mike, the person with whom I
shared everything else. As I was leaving the bathroom after my shower,
I almost bumped into John, my younger brother, who was in the hallway .
Mike often playfully teased us by saying that John and I could be identical
twins born two years apart. We always strenuously denied this, pointing
out what to us were obvious major differences, such as John's turned-up button-nose,
and my notoriously unruly hair.
John greeted me with a surprised smile, quickly overlaid with an expression
of curiosity.
"What's going on, Paul?" he asked, "Two showers in one day and it's not even
dinner time yet!"
"Yeah, well," I stuttered, thinking quickly, "I was helping a friend fix
his car and got a bit messed up."
As was made up at such short notice, it wasn't a very good lie and John quickly
saw through it, especially as we both knew I blush when I lie.
"But you don't know anything about fixing cars," he pointed out.
"That doesn't stop me helping, " I responded defensively, "Holding tools
and stuff."
"Well, who were you helping then?" he asked, doubt written all over his face.
"Look," I said brusquely, "I don't have time for idle chat. I've got
to get dressed before dinner."
With that, I made a rapid retreat into my bedroom.
John, my only sibling, was two years younger than me and we usually got on
very well. This was fortunate because when my parents had friends or
family visiting the guests would get John's room and he'd share mine, using
the spare bed. As the 'moveable' brother, John was expected to keep
his bedroom tidier and in better condition than mine, just in case we had
visitors. However, most of the time he never did, and it was fortunate
for him that my parents had a very strict privacy rule. They would
never enter our bedrooms without knocking and they never entered without
permission.
My parents were very reasonable people, and although they were strict about
certain things, they didn't actually impose a lot of rules. For the
most part, our parents trusted us to do the right thing, and unless we betrayed
that trust they assumed we could be relied upon. Maybe John and I were
trusted because we were unusually reliable, or maybe we were reliable because
we were trusted. Whatever the case, the system worked for us and we
never deliberately betrayed their trust.
Of course neither John nor I were angels; we told lies, played pranks, got
into trouble, and committed all the usual minor infractions of childhood,
but when our parents put something to us as a matter of trust we did our
very best not to disappoint them. We shared a common view that promises
should never be forced, but once a promise was made voluntarily then it should
never be deliberately broken. Mike, despite all his wild ways outside
our house, seemed to embrace this family view enthusiastically when he was
with us.
Unfortunately, my parents' calm-and-reasonable approach seemed to extend
to more positive emotions and our family did not seem to me to be as close
or as warm as the families of some of my friends. We rarely hugged,
seldom got too emotional, and our interactions were, for the most part, businesslike.
This is not to say that we didn't love one another; in fact we often showed
our mutual love and care in lots of little ways, but we just didn't say it
out loud and rarely showed physical affection.
Ben called me the following week and we arranged to meet again the next Sunday
afternoon. When I suggested maybe going for a movie or a meal he said
he was busy with a programming project and wasn't sure if he'd have time.
I was a little disappointed that we wouldn't have much time to socialise
because I was hoping that Ben would become much closer than just a friend
with whom I had sex. However, just listening to Ben's voice over the
phone gave me a stiffy, so the prospect of meeting up for some physical interaction
was very attractive.
We met in the same car park as the previous Sunday and he immediately drove
us back to his place. As soon as we got through the door of his apartment
he took me by the hand, led me to the sofa and started kissing me.
I was so horny that I responded enthusiastically and, still standing, we
began to undress one another. As soon as we were naked he led me to
his bedroom and, lying on the bed we kissed, hugged, and ground our cocks
together. He began to lick all over my face and neck as we fondled
one another's cocks. Then he began to lick my nipples, before licking
his way all the way down to my cock.
He ran his tongue up and down my cock, then drove me wild by putting it inside
my foreskin and licking round and round between my cock-head and foreskin.
Just before I thought I would cum, he stopped doing that and began licking
my balls, which tickled so much that I couldn't keep still. When he
licked lower and started licking round my anal opening I was at first very
shocked, but then it felt so nice that I decided not to complain. Then
Ben turned his attentions back to my cock and my mind was lost in pleasure
when he began pumping my cock with his mouth. In fact I was so lost
in pleasure that at first I didn't realise he was slipping his finger into
my bum hole.
He must have lubed his finger with saliva because it went in easily.
However, nothing had ever gone up there before, not even my own finger, so
the feeling was strange and not exactly pleasant. Just as I was about
to complain, his finger started to feel good inside, so I just lay there
and began to enjoy it. When he moved his finger inside me he occasionally
hit a magic spot, my prostate, and the feeling was so overpowering that I
wasn't sure if it was pleasure or pain. Suddenly, before even I expected
it, I had an intense orgasm and pumped cum into Ben's mouth.
As soon as I finished spurting, Ben moved up and started kissing me, but
his time I was not so put off by the taste of my own semen and happily returned
his kiss. He lay on top of me, kissing and rubbing his cock just under
my balls. His dick must have been leaking lots of pre-cum as it slid
very easily between my thighs. After my orgasm I was so relaxed and
enjoying Ben's attentions that at first I wasn't giving much thought to how
he might want to reach his own orgasm. When I felt Ben's hand push
my thighs apart and then felt his finger on my hole, I began to suspect what
he might have in mind.
"What're you doing?" I asked, beginning to get worried.
"Just though you might need some loosening up."
"Loosening up?" I squeaked, realising immediately how stupid I sounded.
"You enjoyed my finger up there didn't you?"
"Yeah..." I said hesitantly.
"Well, I thought you 'd like to try something else up there."
From relaxed lethargy my mind switched into panic mode. I really didn't
want 'something else up there', but I didn't know how to say it without hurting
Ben's feelings or alienating him. Apart from anything else, I was sure
'something else up there' would hurt, and even if it didn't, I was still
getting used to the idea of a finger and I certainly wasn't ready for 'something
else'.
This was my first sexual relationship and Ben was clearly experienced, so
I thought that maybe 'something else up there' was the usual and expected
thing to do and that if I refused then maybe he would think I was weird.
While these thoughts spun in my head I was quiet, and Ben must have taken
my silence as an agreement to go ahead, so he began pushing a finger inside
me.
"Stop! Please, stop!" I shouted in a panic, probably far too loudly.
"What's the matter?"
"Nothings ever been up there before your finger today."
"It won't hurt . I promise to be very slow and gentle."
"No, I'm really not ready for that," I said, more forcefully than I intended.
Ben just froze and tensed up, possibly considering what to do or say, and
I felt terrible, as if I'd just spoiled this wonderful afternoon we were
having together. He relaxed, rolled off me and lay beside me.
For what seemed like a very long time he was silent and there was nothing
I could think of to say. Then, eventually I thought of something.
"Would you like me to suck you off?" I asked, hoping that I hadn't disappointed
him too much.
"OK, if you want." he replied.
My heart sank as I heard the lack of enthusiasm in his voice, but I went
ahead and moved between his legs to give him the very best blow-job I could.
Thinking about all the instructions he'd given me during our last meeting,
I tried my hardest to give him as much pleasure as possible and it wasn't
long before he came in my mouth and I swallowed every drop. Then, as
I moved up to kiss him he looked over at his bedside clock.
"Damn," he said and jumped off the bed, "I just remembered that I promised
to meet the guy who's doing the project with me!"
Of course I knew he was lying, but what could I say? I was very upset
by the way he was reacting and my emotions were swinging violently between
anger and sorrow.
"We'd better hurry up and get dressed," he said as he moved toward the bedroom
door, I'll drive you into town."
"Can't we talk?" I asked as I got up off the bed.
"No time. Must dash. I'll call you later."
Those words were thrown over his shoulder as he walked into the living room
to collect his clothes. Again, I knew he was lying and that he wouldn't
call later, but I couldn't do anything but get dressed. No more words
were spoken while we dressed or as we drove back into town. When I
got out of his car I said good-bye and he mumbled some reply, but I couldn't
tell what it was.
As I travelled home on the bus, I tried to analyse what had gone wrong.
Was it my fault? Should I have been more tactful? Should I even
have let him do what he wanted? As I thought more, I decided on the
answer: - No! Despite my naivete, it began to dawn on me that Ben had
just been using me for sex and that once I refused I was no longer of interest
to him. Even if I hadn't refused he would probably have lost interest
once he'd got what he wanted. Still, at least my sexual experience
with him had made me pretty certain that I really was gay. However,
as the idea of being gay wasn't too attractive to me just then, that certainty
didn't make me feel any better.
When I returned home I went straight to the bathroom, brushed my teeth, and
gargled with mouthwash. As I knew there was plenty of time before our
family meal, I had a long slow shower. This time not just to remove
any smell of sex but because for some reason I felt really, really, dirty.
That evening Mike phoned, and I can't express in words how glad I was to
hear his voice. As we talked it seemed I was clinging on to his every
word and he must have guessed something was not right with me.
"What's the matter, pal?" he asked.
"Oh, I'm just feeling a bit down. It's nothing much."
"C'mon Paul, I know you. It must be something to make you sound like
that."
"Really, it's nothing important."
"Whatever it is, you can tell me. You know that."
"Well it's not something I can talk about on the phone," I replied evasively.
That was true, but the main reason I said it was to buy myself some time
to think.
"Okay, I'll come on over and we can talk in person."
"Nah, better not. It's getting late and it's school tomorrow."
"Look, I can tell something's wrong and I'm not going to leave you like that.
I'll fetch over my stuff, stay the night, and go straight to school from
your place in the morning. See you in about ten minutes."
He hung up before I had chance to reply.
Finding mum in the living room, I told her that Mike was coming over for
the night. There was no need to actually ask permission because ever
since Mike was ten he had a standing invitation to stay whenever he wanted.
Mum nodded and raised an eyebrow, but didn't ask why he was coming over that
particular night. With the family privacy-and-trust agreement she knew
that we would tell her if it was important to do so.
As soon Mike arrived and had greeted my parents, I took him upstairs, and
despite the fact that I had no idea what I was going to say to him, I was
still very happy to see him. Before going into my bedroom, he knocked
on John's door just to say 'Hi'. That was typical of him, friendly
and always making sure that none of his friends feel 'excluded'. When we
entered my room, I sat on my bed and he sat down on the other bed, facing
me.
"Well, young Paul, tell me everything."
He often called me 'young Paul' when he wanted to wind me up, because when
we were little kids I once made a big thing about me being six months older
than him.
"Everything? I thought you were staying for a night, not a century."
My pathetic attempt at a joke was just stalling for time, and Mike knew it.
"OK, not everything. Just why you seem so unhappy."
"Unhappy? It's Monday tomorrow and back to school. That's enough
to make anyone unhappy!"
"Doesn't seem like just 'Sunday evening blues' to me," he said, obviously
able to tell I was squirming, "but if you don't feel like talking now, then
maybe later. I'm here for you, okay?"
With that, he let me off the hook, at least temporarily and I diverted the
conversation on to other topics, school, plans for Christmas, which was just
over 5 weeks away, and I eventually got to mentioning Sue. Mike had
been interested in Sue, a girl in his school, for several months and had
gradually worked his way into her circle of friends. He'd found out
she didn't have a boyfriend at the moment but he had not yet got around to
asking her out on a date. He said he wanted to take things slowly and
I told him that any girl who turned him down should be certified as totally
insane. He responded by giving me one of his big beaming grins, which
always make my life brighter.
Shortly after that we ended up watching TV and sitting next to one another
on my bed, our backs propped oh the headboard.
"I'm glad I came over," Mike said without taking his eyes off the screen,
"you seem much happier now than you sounded on the phone."
"I'm glad too, and I feel much better. I really appreciate it."
"And you know you can talk to me about anything, right? I'm not pressuring
you and you don't need to say anything, but I just want to make sure you
know I'm here to talk whenever you want. You and your family have always
been here for me and I'll always be here for you."
There was quite a long pause while my mind began to churn, then I took a
deep breath.
"Suppose you don't like what I talk about?" I asked.
"We're best friends, aren't we? Nothing will change that."
"Yeah, but just suppose..." I replied, my voice trembling a little.
"Look, Paul, whatever it is, we'll always be best friends," he said, moving
his gaze from the TV to my face, "And one reason for that is we don't
judge and disapprove. Remember when we were fifteen and I got hold
of the whisky and we both got pissed and had terrible hangovers?"
"How could I forget!" I said and grinned.
"You never told me I was wrong, you never blamed me for your hangover and
never tried to make me feel bad about you being so sick. You never
told anyone why you were so ill and you never accused me of being a bad influence."
"Why should I? You didn't steal it and nobody made me drink it.
I wanted to try it and it was just an experiment that was quite nice
at the time but went too far."
"And left us feeling bloody awful!" he said and laughed, then became more
serious and continued, "Lots of people would have blamed me. Not many
people would have covered up for me when they were feeling as sick as you
were."
I blushed but didn't say anything, and after a brief pause, he continued.
"Remember when we were fourteen and I started smoking?"
"God yes, the stink!" I smiled, thankful he'd given up.
"Yes, you kept having to 'deodorise' your room to hide the smell from your
parents and the room ended up smelling like a perfume factory! All
the time you covered up for me without criticising and without judging..."
"But I did point out the health risks..." I interrupted.
"Yeah, but having pointed them out, you didn't go on and on about it.
You didn't tell me I was a stupid idiot.... When my mum found out I was smoking
she went ballistic. She threatened to ground me for life and told me
I was totally stupid. She went on and on about it for days. She
made me look at pictures of lung cancers...YUCK! But nothing she said
or did had any effect and I still carried on smoking in secret."
"Okay, but you don't smoke now do you?"
"No... and ya know why I stopped? I never told anyone this, but it
was something you said."
Now it was Mike who blushed, something very rare for him.
"What did I say?" I asked, trying to remember what it could be.
"Well, one day you said that you wished that I'd give up. But it wasn't
so much what you said but the way you said it and the way you looked.
You weren't annoyed or critical, or disapproving or anything like that.
You just made a quiet statement, and I could see from your puppy-dog eyes
that it was something you'd really like me to do. So I gave up smoking.
Not because of threats from mum. Not because of health risks.
Not because anyone disapproved. But just because giving up was something
I could do to make you happier."
Mike looked embarrassed but didn't look away from my face. I couldn't
think what to say and there was such a lump in my throat that I probably
couldn't have said anything even if I had known what to say. We rarely
showed any signs of physical affection, but the only appropriate thing I
could think of doing was to put my arm round his shoulders and to squeeze
him in a sort-of one-armed hug.
"Aaawww, Mike," I said when the lump in my throat had subsided enough for
me to be able to speak again, "that's the nicest thing anyone has ever said
to me. I'm lucky to have you as my best friend."
"I thought I'd just been explaining that I was the lucky one!" Mike said,
pretending to be exasperated, "Anyway, the important thing to remember is
that any time you want to talk, I'm ready to listen."
"Thanks..." was all I could think of to say, while my mind churned with the
question: should I tell him I'm gay?
oo00oo