The following contains descriptions of graphic sexual acts between consenting underage boys. It is a work of fiction and has no basis in reality.
Do not read this story if:
1) You're not 18 or over.
2) If it is illegal to read this type of material where you live.
3) If you don't want to read about gay/bisexual people in love or having sex.
The author retains copyright (2003) to this story. Reproducing this story for distribution without the author's permission is a violation of that copyright.
Perry and Jesse: The Incredibly Romantic (and slightly kinky) Adventures of Two Boys In Love
Part IV Brothers
Chapter 14 A Visit With Tom Pt. 2 (You Show Me Yours And I'll Show You Mine)
It was much bigger than I expected--really big and long. I realized that Tom's room was the whole front of the second floor. There were the three gables I had seen from the yard, with bright sunshine streaming in and reflecting off the smoothly polished wooden floor. I could immediately see that the large area was unequally divided into two parts--maybe a third of it was Tom's bedroom, with a desk and computer, bookshelves, stereo, TV and video game machine, and the other half was set up like an artist's studio with two different sized easels, cabinets and tables, drawings and paintings pinned up, or leaning against the wall. There were two ceiling fans hanging from the exposed rafters and track lighting along the inside wall, although it wasn't needed in the middle of a sunny day like this, even if the icy cold wind was howling outside. There was even a little dorm fridge in one corner. I didn't think Tom's family was particularly well off--certainly not like Morgan, or Jessica, or Katy's families--but with the sunlight casting wide, glowing beams across the room, and all the artwork, the glossy floor, and the exposed beam ceiling overhead, it seemed like I was walking into some swanky, overpriced downtown loft.
I just stood dumbly right inside the doorway, trying to take it all in.
"Cool--huh?" Tom asked, and I could hear the pride in his voice. He slipped passed me and made a sweeping gesture. "There used to be three little bedrooms up here, a bathroom and a storage closet. My dad tore down most of the walls, opened up the ceiling, and polished the floors. Lili has the room next door, but it's not as big as this one, and it doesn't have the exposed rafters--and it's like totally soundproof so I don't have to listen to her loud and obnoxious music all the time!"
I slowly started to walk into the room, fascinated by all the drawings and paintings. There were even a few simple sculptures on the counter between the cabinets and the drawers. I saw a drawing that was clearly of Derek. He was in his Tae Kwon Do gi and he was kicking his foot straight out. The look of concentration on his face and the sense of movement was amazing! And Tom sure knew how to draw feet--Derek's looked good enough to eat!
"Oh, that was just off a photo," he explained.
"It's great!" I told him.
"Here's another one he actually posed for," Tom said, pointing to one of the easels.
The easel was covered with a huge pad of drawing paper. He flipped through a few sheets and then let me look. It was Derek all right, a close-up actually. He was shirtless and you could see his slender and bony shoulders and the top part of his smooth and narrow chest. He was smiling only slightly and there was a thoughtful look on his boyish face. And even though it was only a black and white pencil drawing, I swear you could tell his eyes were green!
"We did that this summer," Tom said. "I think he looks really cute!"
"It's a great picture. That look on his face, it just shows that he trusts you and that you guys are great friends," I pointed out.
Tom seemed to be enjoying all the praise I was giving him, but it was all totally sincere. I would never tell anybody that their artwork sucked to their face, but I'd come up with some mindless platitudes just so they wouldn't feel bad. But that was definitely not the case here. You could just tell by the intangible things that Tom was able to capture in his work, that he was a truly gifted artist.
"You draw better than Sister Mary Luellen!" I told him.
"Nah," he said dismissively. "Really?" he asked, blushing with pride.
"Totally. I mean, does Father Marlen know you can draw--and paint like this?" I asked excitedly.
Tom nodded. "He's said some nice things about my work before--he's really good. Someday, I wish I could paint like him."
"Well, like I said, I don't know much about art, Tom. But I know Father Marlen is really good and so are you! Your family must be so proud!"
"Well, my dad did fix this all up for me. Estudio Espinoza he calls it." He seemed to debate with himself about something for a few seconds, and then started flipping some of the huge sheets of paper over the back of the easel.
It was a drawing of an old lady in a rocker, with a shawl around her shoulders. The level of detail was amazing. You could see every wrinkle in her face (and there were a lot!) and even in her folded hands, one of which clutched a rosary on which every bead seemed to reflect the light just perfectly.
"This is one of my favorites. That's my abuelita," he said. "She asked me to draw her even though she was really sick..."
She didn't look sick in the drawing. She had a warm smile and a twinkle in her eyes that seemed to say that she might be old on the outside, but she was still young on the inside.
"Two weeks after I drew this, she died."
"I'm...I'm sorry," I stammered, caught by surprise by the sad news.
"Yeah, she was really cool, always had stories to tell, made the best Christmas tamales you ever tasted..." I could hear Tom's voice getting choked with emotion. "Everyone's waiting for me to turn this into a painting, but I don't know...She just died like a few months ago and I guess it's still too soon for me...
"Well, the drawing looks great. She doesn't look sick at all. In fact, she looks like she's ready to get up and start dancing!"
Tom dabbed some moisture from his eyes. "Stop it, Perry. You're really too much. I'm not that good..."
"Yes you are," I said with absolute conviction.
I waited while he pulled himself together. He kept staring at me and I just stood there with a dumb smile on my face, wanting to show him that I was being genuinely sincere.
"Would you like me to draw you, Perry?" he asked, and I could tell by the careful way he said it that it wasn't just a spur of the moment idea.
"Really?!" I said, starting to get excited. "I mean...you'd want to draw me?" I asked disbelievingly.
"I'd love to, Perry. You know what I think of you, and any artist would kill to get a model like you."
"Well...gees...I mean, how long would it take?" I asked, suddenly not relishing the idea of just standing still for the rest of the afternoon.
Tom shrugged. "It depends on the pose and stuff, but probably an hour and a half or so."
"You'd really like to draw me?" I asked again, thinking that this might be a way that I could make Tom happy after telling him my sad story and then pushing him away so rudely.
"Gees, Perry, are you going to make me beg?" he asked seriously.
I shook my head. "No, of course not. It's just that...well, I think it'd be totally awesome. I just don't want you to feel like you have to..."
"The truth is, I've thought about this a lot. I just didn't know you'd be so impressed with my work. You don't know how much that means to me!"
"So where should I stand?...Or sit?" I asked.
"Well, the best thing is, you just take off all your clothes and stand right in the middle of the sunlight!" he answered with a completely straight face.
I just stared at him, completely dumbfounded.
Tom laughed. "Just kidding. Do you think I could just sit here and draw you if you were standing in my room naked? I'd probably have a stroke or something!"
I laughed with him even though I knew he really did want to see me naked, and that stirred up a lot of confused feelings in me.
Tom was looking at me more contemplatively now, obviously getting seriously into his artistic mode. "Whatcha got on under the sweatshirt?" he asked.
"Oh, just a St. Boniface T-shirt."
Tom nodded. "Okay. Why don't you lose the sweatshirt. It's just so bulky and doesn't show your hot bod off very well."
I complied, pulling the heavy fleece shirt off over my head. It actually was more than warm enough up here with the sun streaming in through the gabled windows. Of course, my long, dysfunctional brown hair came tumbling down in total disarray. I reached in the back pocket of my jeans and fished out my flat brush.
"Here, let me do that!" Tom said excitedly. He ran over to me and stopped just before grabbing the brush from my hand. "S...sorry," he apologized, backing off. "It's just that...I'll do a good job of combing it--okay?"
I shrugged and handed him the brush. Again Tom studied me with that intensive artistic look and it almost looked a little funny because he had such a round boyish face, and usually his eyes were big and wide. Now he was looking so serious: squinting and sticking his lower lip out and moving his jaw around from side to side. He slowly walked around me and I felt the brush tugging at the back of my head. He even held my chin in the fingers of one hand while he combed back my bangs with the other. He took his time, getting every hair just where he wanted it, and then stood back and assessed his work.
But as he stepped back from me, I realized that the serious look of artistic contemplation had left his face, to be replaced by something even more intense. He was breathing heavily and there was that look in his eyes...that lustful look I had seen the last time we had gotten together.
"Are you okay?" I asked nervously.
He slowly shook his head. That's when I glanced down and noticed the way his jeans were tenting out. He obviously had a raging boner and I was surprised that it hadn't ripped right through the tough denim fabric.
"I'll...I'll be right back," he said, absently handing me the brush before walking quickly past.
Walking towards the bedroom area, he turned and disappeared into what I assumed was a bathroom. He closed the door and I found myself just standing there by myself, with my hair--for once--perfectly combed. I casually wandered over to his bookshelves to see what he was reading. Besides Tolkien and Rowlings, I noticed he had long rows of Anne McCaffrey, Mercedes Lackey, Terry Pratchett and other fantasy authors. I was about to reach out and choose a volume to browse through, when I heard the groans coming from the bathroom. At first, I thought Tom was being sick--that maybe the enchiladas had been a little too much for him as well--but then I realized I was hearing that now familiar sound of exploding passion that meant Tom was having an orgasm. It certainly was an odd thing to listen to when you yourself weren't involved in the activity. I loved the little moaning sounds Jesse made when he reached his climax, and I guessed I probably made similar sounds--although I was never in much of a state to actually listen to myself under those circumstances!
I slowly made my way back into the studio, wanting to give Tom a little privacy if I could. He'd probably feel embarrassed when he came out, just like when he creamed his pants at my house a few weeks ago. I wondered if this meant there would be no drawing today...
After hearing the water running in the sink for a while, Tom finally came out. It seemed like my apprehensions had all been for naught because he looked much like his usual chipper self, with bright brown eyes and a wide, toothy white smile that contrasted nicely with his creamy brown skin. He had unbuttoned his plaid shirt and let the tails hang loose, revealing a plain white T-shirt underneath.
"Sorry about that," he said.
I just gave him a little smile, not wanting to make a big deal out of it.
"I've got a good idea now what to do," he said. He went over to his computer desk and grabbed the old chair from it and came and placed it in the middle of the floor where it got the most natural light. Then he started sliding his easel with the large pad of paper attached to it a little closer. I hurriedly went to help him. He set it up about ten feet from where he had placed the chair.
"Okay, so I want you to sit in the chair," he said excitedly.
It looked like an antique and had what appeared to br a newly upholstered seat cushion. I started to sit...
"No, no, not like that!" he insisted. He flipped the chair so that the slated back was facing his easel. "Like this, leaning over the back of the chair with...uh...with your arms sort of folded...yeah! And you can sort of straddle the seat."
I sat as he told me, the old chair creaking slightly under my weight.
Tom stood back by the easel scrutinizing every detail while he nervously bit his lower lip. "Yeah, now just lean forward--real casual like with your arms folded on top...You can rest your head on your arms, but look up a little...yeah just like that!" he said.
This wasn't bad. It was a smallish chair and I had no problem straddling it, placing my feet on either side of the two back legs.
Something was bothering him though. I suddenly started feeling very self-conscious, wondering why Tom would want to waste his time or his precious skills on such a lackluster subject like me. I honestly wished I did look the way he thought of me, tall and handsome and kind and sexy. But I had no idea where he got those ideas from. I couldn't just shift my molecules around and become the person he imagined me to be.
"Those are cool sneaks," Tom said, which surprised me a little. I hadn't been expecting that, but I was glad he had noticed.
"Oh, thanks. I just got them on Friday. They're for the playoffs!"
"Yeah, they're pretty cool but...I don't know, a little boring to draw, ya know?"
I guessed I could see his point. These Reeboks had a sleek streamlined appearance and when they were zipped up, had very little surface detail, especially from the front. That was probably why the glossy blue around the heels looked so stunning. "Do you want me to take them off?" I offered.
Tom's eyes widened at the idea. "Of course I do...but not for the picture...hehehe," he giggled. "Do those things have laces underneath?" he asked.
"Okay then...well, unzip them and untie the laces, and let them just hang loose onto the floor."
I stooped to unzip and untie my shoes, realizing that he really did have a keen eye for composition.
"That looks very cool, very casual," Tom said approvingly. "I just wanted to see a little more texture at the bottom of the pic--not that anyone's gonna be looking at your feet..." he laughed.
I just shrugged, indicating that what he saw was pretty much what he was going to get. I did feel pretty comfortable, although I didn't know how I'd feel after sitting here for an hour. Maybe he'd give me a break after half an hour or so.
"Now, I want you to look right at me and smile...just a little...yeah...All right, that looks just...perfect!" he declared with an approving smile. He disappeared behind his easel and started drawing, frequently poking his head around the side to sort of scowl at me in a rather intense way.
I tried my best not to feel self-conscious, but it was hard, just sitting there like that, knowing that someone was examining me in excruciating detail. In a way, it was worse even then being perused by Derrin's Martian associates! I couldn't imagine posing nude for someone like some models did. While I didn't think they did that at the high school level, I was pretty sure they did at colleges and art schools. That must be a very weird feeling, and one I could never imagine being able to endure--even for money!
As the hour proceeded, I noticed that Tom was looking at me less and less. While his strokes had started broad and vigorous, now he seemed to be working on much finer detail and he would disappear completely behind the easel for minutes at a time. He used several different pencils and periodically walked to a nearby work table to sharpen them with a small knife. Because my arms were folded under my chin, I could occasionally sneek a glance at my watch. It had been nearly forty five minutes and I was starting to feel a little cramped and thirsty.
"Wanna take a break?" he finally asked.
"Definitely!" I said, quickly springing to my feet. "Is there anything to drink?" I asked, pointing to the small dorm fridge near his computer desk.
"Sure, Cokes, bottled water, maybe some Seven-up or something..." he said, walking ahead of me. He stooped and pulled out a Coke for me and a bottled water for himself.
I clomped over to the fridge with my untied sneakers barely staying on my feet. "How's it going?" I asked, trying to sound casual but actually feeling pretty apprehensive about the whole thing.
"It's going great. I can already tell it's going to be one of my best drawings ever--I mean, how could it not be, right?" he giggled before taking a large gulp of soda.
"Is it like...realistic?" I asked hesitantly.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, like, do I have that dorky, pouty look on my face like I always do?" I asked worriedly.
"Dorky...pouty...? What the hell are you talking about?" Tom asked, sounding somewhat confused.
I just shrugged embarrassedly.
Tom gave me a more thoughtful look. "Did you think that portrait of Derek looked dorky?" he asked.
I shook my head. "No--it was great!"
"Then trust me," he said with a reassuring smile. "Need to take a leak?" he asked, glancing at his watch.
I shook my head.
"Then let's get back to work. I really only need about another twenty or thirty minutes," he said, walking back to his easel.
"Can I see?" I asked with more than idle curiosity.
"No! I mean...not yet...It's not finished...It would look...weird," he stammered nervously.
"Okay," I said, sitting back down in my pose. I could understand how he wouldn't want to show me something that was only partially completed. I might get the wrong idea. By now I had gotten pretty used to the idea of just sitting in one position, staring straight ahead. I was barely aware of Tom behind the easel and my mind started to drift...
"Hey, are you awake?" Tom was asking, waving an arm in front of my face.
I nearly jumped out of the chair. "Shit! What happened?" I asked worriedly.
"Nothing," Tom laughed. "I guess you kind of drifted off. I mean, your eyes were open and stuff, but it was like...I don't know...like you weren't there!"
"Sorry," I mumbled, wearily rubbing my eyes. I did feel groggy. "How much longer?"
"It's done!" Tom declared with a proud smile, "and I think you'll like the way it turned out."
Now that it really was done, I was actually hesitant to look at it. Tom went and stood nervously by his easel as I took my time shuffling over there. His eyes followed me closely and I looked at him apprehensively. He smiled encouragingly and made a little gesture towards the easel. Finally, no longer able to resist, I brought my eyes over to it and...Whoa--who the hell was that?!
There was this nice looking kid sitting backwards on an old chair, leaning comfortably on his folded arms, a slight, beckoning smile on his face, and a definite gleam in his eyes. At first, I thought that Tom had totally screwed up. It didn't look anything like me. And yet...the more I looked, the more I realized it was some sort of idealized version of me. The dark wavy hair looked just perfect, neatly parted, curling around the ears a little. There was a nice straight nose--a little rounded on the end, and just the slightest hint of dimples around my lazy smile. You could even make out the nearly faded freckles that still dotted the area around the bridge of my nose. I realized that, by having me smile slightly, he managed to get rid of that pouty look that I hated so much. And my eyes...well, they actually didn't look stupid! Sure, they were still kinda big--there was no avoiding that--but they had a warm and friendly look, and each long lash was there in perfect detail and...something else, something harder to put my finger on. Could it be that innocuous little smile somehow made me look just a teeny tiny bit...sexy? Was that possible? There was no question that Tom had interpolated a lot of his own idealized vision of me into his drawing, but that was one of his gifts. It made his drawings and paintings more than just photographic copies. It gave them a life of their own. He had done the same here. He had taken a dull and ordinary subject like me and turned it into something really special.
The rest of the drawing was just as good. There was nothing that was out of proportion. Every detail looked just right, from the wrinkles in my T-shirt, to the faded patches on the knees of my Levi's, to the untied laces on my shoes. It seemed to me that I looked a little older in the picture than I really was, but that was okay--I didn't want to look like a little kid anymore and I appreciated the fact that Tom didn't see me that way either.
"Well...?" Tom asked, standing there nervously playing with one of his drawing pencils.
At first, I just looked at him, probably with some sort of blankly stupid look on my face. It was hard to express verbally what I was thinking.
"You...don't like it...?" he asked worriedly.
"Tom, it's...it's..." I stammered, trying to form the proper words even as they eluded my tongue. "It's just so..." I instinctively reached out towards it, wanting to touch it, imagining that I would feel the soft warmth of human flesh, the cool fabric of the clothing, the smoothly worn texture of the old chair...My fingers stopped just centimeters from the paper and then I pulled my hand away. "Is that...me?" I finally managed to ask.
"Of course. It looks just like you...don't you think?" Tom asked, still somewhat puzzled by my hesitant reaction.
"It looks like...like a really good version of me," I told him. "Like someone used me as a template and then created something...something much better..." I said dazedly, finding myself almost hypnotized by the character of the drawing. I didn't see how seemingly random lines and smudges of lead or charcoal or whatever in various shades of black and grey on an ordinary piece of white paper could combine to have such an emotional impact. It just had to be the enchiladas...
Tom took my comment seriously though and kept darting his eyes back and forth between the drawing and me. "Hmmmm...It looks pretty damn close to me..." he insisted.
"Is that really how you see me?" I asked in disbelief.
Tom nodded cautiously, still thinking that I wasn't impressed by his work. "I mean, a drawing doesn't really do you justice. There's something about you, some intangible thing that makes you so attractive..." He shrugged for lack of words to describe his feelings.
"Shit...this is so...good," I finally managed to say.
"So you like it?" Tom asked, a hesitant smile trying very hard to form on his tense countenance.
"I like it a lot--it's amazing," I assured him with a sincere smile. "I just wished I really looked like that!"
Tom thought this was really funny, because he started snickering and then shaking with full out laughter. He was turning red and a couple of tears spilled from his eyes. It wasn't until he started coughing that he was able to pull himself somewhat together. "Oh Perry..." he said, his voice trembling a little, "you're just so precious!"
"You're great, Tom. This is an amazing drawing! I can't believe you just stood here and did this...I mean, how do you get your ideas?" I asked.
This set Tom off again, and he finally had to grab my arm to hold himself up. Somehow, it ended up with his arms wrapped around my waist and his head pressed up against my chest. I could feel him gasping for breath and his body still occasionally shook with a quiver of laughter.
"Thank you, Perry. Thank you so much for posing. It just felt so good, so right. I just knew it was going to be something special..."
"It is special," I agreed wholeheartedly. "Thanks for taking the time to do that. It's just amazing to see what you came up with!" I joyfully rubbed my hand through his thick mat of curly black hair, amazed that hyper little, waist squeezing Tom Espinoza had so much talent. I was already thinking that Tom's drawings were as good as Jesse's stories. How amazing that I had two remarkably talented friends!
Tom pulled back and glanced at the drawing. "At least now you can see a little bit of why everyone thinks you're so hot!" he declared.
"Well, I can see a little of how you feel about me," I admitted.
"Fair enough," Tom conceded with a shrug.
"Can I have this?" I asked. I wasn't planning on hanging it up or anything, but I just wanted to show my mom what an incredible artist Tom was.
"Oh...well..." Tom stammered uncomfortably. "It's just that...well, I'd really like to show it to Sister Mary Luellen, and maybe even to Father Marlen. I really think it's one of the best things I've ever done..."
"All your drawings are good!" I insisted.
"Yeah, well, this one, the one of Derek, and the one of my abuelita, these are really extra special to me," he explained.
"I understand. It's your creation. You should do whatever you want with it. I'd really like to show it to my mom sometime."
"Well, when she comes to pick you up, we can show it to her," Tom suggested.
"Yeah, that's a great idea." I glanced at my watch and it was nearly three o'clock. My mom would be home by now. "Maybe I should go ahead and call her," I offered, not wanting to outstay my welcome.
"Oh, please don't go. It's still early!" Tom pleaded.
I shrugged. "I can stay if you want. I just figured you might have other stuff to do."
"There's nothing I want more than to spend time with you," he assured me quietly.
I looked at him, trying to figure out how he really felt about me. There was definitely something in the way he looked at me. He had admitted to me that he liked boys and was scared of girls, and it was clear that he thought of me as more than just a friend. Yet, as far as he knew, I was totally straight, and I wanted to keep it that way. For one thing, I didn't have the strong, passionate feelings for Tom that I did for Jesse. He was my cute little friend--not really that little I guess, but he just seemed that way to me. "Tom, I guess I really don't understand how you feel about me," I finally admitted. "I can't figure it out. "
Tom smiled sheepishly. "It's hard to explain," he said. "C'mon, let's go sit down," he suggested. He picked up the old chair I had been posing in and carried it back to his 'bedroom.' It felt good to stretch my legs after all that sitting and I wasn't anxious to sit down again so soon.
"I'll just stand for a bit," I told him.
"It'd be better if you sat down," he urged me, gesturing to his neatly made full sized bed.
Reluctantly, I sat on the edge while he pulled the chair up close and sat down facing me.
"Don't you want to be with Derek?" I asked.
Tom nodded. "Yeah...And I understand that you think he'll take your place somehow," he observed astutely.
I nodded hopefully.
"Well, dude...it just isn't that simple. I hope that Derek and I can take things to the next level....start a real boy to boy relationship. That would be just...awesome..."
"The awesomest!" I declared, using one of Derek's favorite terms.
Tom smiled at the reference. "Yeah, but... you see, that's not going to change the way I feel about you--at least I don't think it will."
"You look like you just got an 'F' on your Georgraphy test!" Tom giggled, despite the seriousness of the subject.
"Sorry..." I said, "it's just that I don't know what to do...how to...help you or anything!"
Tom shook his head. "You don't have to help me," he assured me. "You're such a good friend and you've been so supportive. I've been going back and forth about whether it was good to tell you how I felt about boys...but now I'm for sure glad I did. Not only was it an incredible weight off my shoulders, but it lets me tell you how I really feel about you, and it even lets me be closer to you."
"How close do you want to get?" I asked, for once cutting to the chase.
I watched as my friend's cheeks started to glow a dull crimson. He seemed all set to tell me exactly what he wanted, his eyes lighting up with excitement. He opened his mouth...and then closed it again. His expression became more thoughtful. "I'd like to get really close," he admitted. Then he sighed, "You just can't understand what it's like. The things I think about doing with you..." he said quietly, "they would seem really gross to you..."
Of course, nothing he could say would seem gross to me after the things Jesse and I had done in private. While I was extremely uncomfortable with the idea of being naked in front of Tom--or anyone else for that matter, I also didn't feel like it was totally out of the question. I thought back to last Sunday, when Morgan had been lying on the futon in my bedroom, completely and unashamedly nude. He had encouraged me to take hold of his most private parts, and insisted in fact, that I bring him to the point of orgasm, and he had delighted in it. Still, he was undeniably straight. Why couldn't I do the same for Tom, who had a real interest in that sort of thing?
"What ever you want, Tom," I offered quietly.
Tom put his hands to his mouth, as if to keep something from flying out. I could see that he trying very hard to control himself. He was definitely dealing with some inner struggle, and I guessed it had something to do with how far he thought he could go with me without damaging our friendship. I didn't really have an answer to that either, since I couldn't tell him my two major concerns: to maintain the ruse that I was totally straight, and to keep concealed my passionate physical relationship with Jesse Taylor, the love of my life.
"Can I see your feet?" Tom suddenly asked, somewhat bashfully.
"What?!" I asked, startled by the unexpected request.
I realized he was being serious. "I guess...but why?" I asked curiously.
Instead of answering directly, Tom got on his knees in front of me, grasped my ankle through my jeans and lifted my leg slightly so he could slip my untied shoe off my foot.
"Wow, these are a lot lighter than I thought they'd be!" he remarked, hefting the basketball sneaker in his hand a few times before setting it on the floor next to his bed.
"Yeah. They're pretty cool. They were kind of expensive, but I thought they'd be worth it for the playoffs."
"Absolutely. You're gonna look really hot in these," he said, slipping my other shoe off. "The blue even goes with the color of your uniform!"
Why was Tom suddenly interested in my feet? Was it possible he had the same strange little fetish that I did? That would be too weird, and I was self-consciously worried that my feet might not smell too good. It had been a long day already, spending all morning in my loafers, and then changing right into my sneakers without a shower in between.
"You might not want to get too close there," I warned him delicately.
Tom just gave me a devilish smile and actually brought his nose right up to my sock feet and took a noisy sniff! "Gees, there's hardly any smell at all," he remarked with a hint of disappointment. "Mostly that leathery 'new shoes' smell."
Well, that was a relief, but now I really did have to wonder if Tom had a thing for feet. He hadn't said that he wanted to undress me and that he was just starting with my shoes and socks. He had specifically said he wanted to see my feet. I was worried that this was going to lead to some sort of tickling, like Morgan had done last week to try and persuade me to give him a hand job. I felt myself getting more tense.
Tom was already peeling down one of my white crew socks. "Yeah..." he muttered approvingly to himself as he carefully straightened out the crumpled cotton ball and laid it next to my shoes. My bare foot now rested on the large braided oval rug that ran the length of the side of Tom's bed.
"Why are you doing this?" I asked nervously, dreading the tickling assault that I was sure would be coming my way any minute now.
"Ever since I saw your feet that last time I was at your house," he explained while peeling off my other sock, "I dreamed about this." I recalled how he had stared so wide eyed at my feet as I sat at my desk, intent on stripping for him so he could give me a hand job. He lowered his head again and I figured he was going to take another whiff. I was instead mildly shocked when I felt his lips press against the top of my left foot, right at the top of the tendony area between my toes and my ankle. I stiffened, but it didn't really tickle. It just felt like a kiss--not that much different from when he had kissed my hand downstairs.
"Tom, isn't that a little gross?"
"I don't think so. I love your feet, Perry. There so long and smooth and soft. Every toe is just perfectly straight and..." He kissed my big toe and started speaking in a childish voice. "Hello, Perry's Big Toe. How're you doing today?" he asked. "You're looking simply marvilloso!" Then he kissed my second toe. "And how lucky are you, getting to live your whole life right next to that totally hunky Big Toe?"
"Tom, cut it out!" I laughed and blushed at the silliness of his little fantasy. I gently pulled my foot back towards the bed.
That at least got Tom to look up at me, although he still sat on the rug with one knee bent. "I know it's really weird, but I guess I've always had a thing for feet..." he admitted.
Oh Man! It was true! Tom really did have a foot fetish!
"That's one of the reasons I got into Tae Kwon Do," he admitted sheepishly. "I thought it would be a great way to check out guys' feet..."
"You only like guys' feet?"
Tom shrugged. "Mostly. I'm not really into girl's feet, especially when they paint their toenails and stuff." He made a distasteful face. "At the party, I noticed Jessica had pretty nice feet though," he pointed out.
I couldn't tell if he meant that or was just saying it because he knew I had some feelings for her.
"So, how did that work out? Did you see some feet that you liked?" I asked curiously.
"Huh? You mean in my class?"
"Sure. There are definitely some cute guys in there. It's hard to find really nice feet on a boy though," he said, gently laying his hands on the tops of my feet. "Mostly, they have dirty nails, or scabs or scars, or their soles are really tough..." He looked up at me with puppy dog eyes. "I've been just aching to see yours...I bet they're really, really soft, huh?" he asked.
Oh no, I sensed that we were getting close to the unpleasant part...I shrugged nervously.
"Can I see them?" he asked politely.
"Well..." I hesitated, tucking my feet in so that my heels were actually under the side of Tom's bed. "It's just that..." I gulped, afraid to reveal my vulnerability, "that I'm really ticklish there..."
Tom's eyes opened wide with surprise. "Yeah?" he asked.
I nodded cautiously, expecting him to make a lunge for my unprotected feet.
"I'll be very, very careful...I promise," he said with such sincerity that I slowly lifted my legs up, plainly exposing my soles to his view.
Tom cautiously reached out two of his fingers and pressed them lightly into the sole of my right foot. I was already tense, but I stiffened even more. Fortunately, the way he just pressed his fingers straight into the fleshy pad under my toes, didn't cause the tickling sensation I was dreading. I realized I was holding my breath.
Tom gasped and slowly withdrew his probing fingers. "I can't believe it...They're so soft. It's like you kept them in bubble wrap all these years."
"Bubble wrap?" I laughed. I wiggled my toes playfully.
"Ummm..." Tom moaned. "You're really turning me on..."
"Sorry..." I apologized.
Tom got back on both knees and lowered himself until his cheek was actually pressed against the tops of my feet.
"You know," he said, his cheek resting on the tops of my feet, "this is just where I kneel to say my prayers every night." As I slowly started to accept the fact that Tom was actually enjoying what he was doing, I realized that it was weird, but kinda cool. Still, it could only mean one thing--that he really was into feet, and I made a decision...
"Tom, I want to tell you something, but it's really, really a secret, okay?" I began cautiously.
Tom looked up at me expectantly. "You can trust me completely!" he assured me quickly. "Just like I trusted you with my secret!"
Well, this wasn't quite as big as Tom's secret but...
"You can't tell anyone, even Derek and Jesse, okay?" I requested. Even though Jesse already knew about my foot fetish, I wanted to emphasize to Tom how personal this was. Actually, I did trust him. After just spending a few hours at his house, I realized that he was a far better person than me and I was lucky to be able to count him as a friend. At least I could share this much with him...
Tom's eyes opened wide and he nodded solemnly. "I swear, Perry," he whispered.
"Well, it's just that...I'm kinda into feet too..." I said, my voice trembling a little.
Tom just stared at me and his mouth slowly fell open. Then he broke into a wide grin. "Really?" he asked, sitting back and pulling his knees up.
I smiled and nodded. I felt a certain amount of relief as I realized that I was getting all worked up over nothing. It was just such a weird thing to admit to someone.
"That's so cool, Perry! Thanks for sharing that with me!" he said excitedly.
I could tell that he thought it was a big deal that I had confided in him. I shrugged sheepishly, scrunching up my toes.
"Are you just into girls' feet?" he asked hopefully.
Hmmm...I hadn't anticipated that question. Still, what could it hurt? "Both...I guess..." I admitted quietly.
"Cool!" Tom said, rocking back and forth a little on his butt, his hands clasped around his knees as he looked up at me with a big smile plastered on his face. "So who has the coolest feet you ever saw?"
I obviously hadn't thought this out very clearly. I hated to lie, especially to such a sweet person like Tom. "You have to promise never to utter this to another soul!" I told him emphatically.
Tom nodded his agreement and then added, "I swear!"
"Jesse..." I said quietly.
Tom's eyes opened wide in astonishment. "Jesse Taylor? Jesse has the best feet you ever saw?!"
"God--of course. He's so hot--I bet his feet are just like Aaron Carter's..."
Hmmmm...were they? I couldn't really recall what Aaron Carter's feet looked like. Jesse had pretty much ruined me for anyone else. There was no part of anybody that I thought was better than any part of Jesse. In my eyes, he was perfect. I felt myself starting to get hard at the thought of Jesse undressing in front of me for the first time in his bedroom. He had hesitantly suggested that we both get naked together and it had been a nerve wracking, but ultimately rewarding experience for both of us.
"Does he go barefoot a lot?" Tom asked, as if he were trying to find out quirky little details about his favorite celebrity. And maybe that was how Tom saw Jesse, as someone who was a little removed from his sphere of influence, somewhat aloof, a little mysterious, and with the kind of stunning looks you rarely if ever saw in real life.
I laughed, trying to shake the image of my beautiful blond angel out of my head. "I don't know..."
"But he sleeps barefoot?" Tom persisted.
"Cool! Next week, when we're at the Grand Californian--I'll get to see Jesse Taylor's feet!"
I thought Tom was ready to start marching around the room with excitement, but instead, he just rocked back and forth like a little kid, with his arms around his knees and his ankles crossed.
Yeah, that was going to be a little weird, spending the night with Tom, Morgan, and Jesse all in the same room. Last year, the whole idea of sex seemed remote at best, something you thought about in the privacy of your own bedroom. It was thinking about some hot looking boy at the mall, or having childish fantasies about Katy, or reading dirty stories on the internet. I never imagined that, by the time my fourteenth birthday had come around, I would be deeply in love with anyone, let alone another boy! And add to that the intensely lustful and passionate physical part of the relationship...I never imagined that girls would find me attractive, or that Tom would turn out to like boys, or that Morgan couldn't wait for me to jack him off...Why had things changed so drastically in such a short amount of time? Even my young cousin Derrin was getting into the act now.
"Hey, Perry..." Tom said, looking up at me with a slightly mischievous smile, "wanna see my feet?"
I couldn't say no after what I had just told him. Still, I wasn't sure where all this was headed. While I wasn't one to talk, I was worried that Tom wasn't able to really control all the powerful emotions and urges that were tugging at him from the inside out. I did want to see his feet--I had for a long time actually, but I didn't think I'd want to kiss them or anything. And then, would Tom be offended? Had I gotten myself into another mess from which there was no way to avoid hurting someone's feelings in order to get out of it?
"Sure," I answered simply, keeping my voice light and casual.
"Cool!" he said, and came to sit next to me on the edge of the bed. He brought his foot up and crossed his ankle over his knee and started untying the double knotted, worn grey laces of his black Hi-top Keds. Then he stopped and looked at me, still with a big grin plastered on his cute round face. "Do you want to do this?" he asked.
Presumably, he was offering to let me take off his shoes and socks for him. If it had been Jesse, I would've untied his laces with my teeth! "That's okay..." I shrugged uncomfortably.
Tom got his shoe untied and tugged it off, letting it fall with a dull thump to the thickly braided rug. "I just took a shower before we picked you up, so I don't think my feet smell or anything," he informed me as he peeled his white and grey crew sock off.
He did have a really nice foot and I felt my dick twitch a little in my jeans. It was incredibly smooth and a shade lighter than the skin on his arms, but certainly richer in hue than my barely tanned extremities. His toes were small, but nicely proportioned, rounded on the ends with neatly trimmed nails. His foot still rested on his knee and I could plainly see his bare sole. It was smooth and lighter toned than the top of his foot, and even the bottom of his heel looked only slightly callused.
After he got his other shoe and sock off, Tom got up and started walking towards the middle of the long room. He stood in a bright patch of sunlight pouring in through one of the gabled windows, and it gave him a sort of glow. He turned and beckoned to me.
"C'mon over here. This floor feels really good to walk on!" he informed me.
I got up and walked to him. The newly polished wood floor did feel surprisingly smooth to the soles of my bare feet. The sun had warmed it up nicely and there wasn't any dust or grit, and it wasn't sticky the way some wood floors were.
"I just swept this out after church," Tom informed me.
Now we just stood there, a few feet apart, sort of staring at each other. I could see by the look on Tom's face, that he was coming up with some weird idea. I hoped he wasn't going to ask me to dance!
Tom suddenly got down on the floor. He sat flat on his butt and spread his legs in a comfortable 'V', leaning back on his hands for support. He gestured for me to do the same thing. I started to sit next to him, but he indicated that I should sit across from him. Now I was starting to get an idea of what he had in mind...
"I've always wanted to do this with...with someone!" he told me, his voice quiet but filled with intense excitement. "I just could never get up the nerve to ask Derek!"
"What did you have in mind?" I asked cautiously. Again, my main concern was for maintaining Tom's belief that I was straight. I didn't want to do anything that might be construed as 'gay.' I worried that maybe I had crossed that line already by admitting that I liked Jesse's feet.
"Just put your legs out like mine," he instructed. He waited for me to get into position. "And now..."
Tom wiggled around on his butt until we were lined up facing each other. His 'V' matched mine and he delicately pressed the soles of his feet against mine. He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, a satisfied, but subdued smile on his face.
My first thought was that this was something I definitely wanted to try with Jesse. While I had no strong sexual feelings for Tom, it did feel kind of cool to be touching our feet together like this. Soon, our soles were pressed tightly together from the heels to the toes, with only the arches not making contact. I playfully wiggled my toes against his and he immediately reacted by opening his eyes in surprise, his smile turning into a full fledged grin of bright white teeth.
"Isn't this kewl?" he asked excitedly, sounding more like a child let loose at Chucky Cheese with a fist full of tokens than a nearly fourteen year old teenager with serious artistic skills.
I nodded. I was glad I'd found something that we could share. I realized I was still feeling a little self-conscious, so I found myself talking nonsense. "We could have our own private club!" I said conspiratorially.
But Tom's eyes lit up at the ludicrous idea. "Yeah--like the Secret Society of The Foot! We could be Foot Brothers!" he suggested.
"Foot Brothers!" I laughed approvingly.
After that, neither one of us said anything as we sat there on the polished wood floor, bathed in the warm glow of the late November afternoon sun, our toes engaged in some sort of playful battle. Tom was actually quite dexterous and managed to clamp his smaller toes over my longer ones after a few minutes of sportive goofing around. He squeezed hard and then relaxed, and then repeated his action, obviously getting some sort of sexual satisfaction from our foot play.
I couldn't say that I wasn't enjoying it--as weird as it was, but I also didn't feel any sense of building sexual excitement like I did when I was with Jesse. While I felt my dick getting slightly hard, it wasn't tenting my jeans the way Tom's so clearly was. For me, it was more like playing a silly, childish game, and I started to realize that it wasn't just the feet, or the face, or the hair or the eyes, that got me truly aroused. There had to be more to it than that. While I couldn't deny that I was initially attracted to people by their physical appearance, the thing that truly awakened my passion had more to do with something unseen, something inside the other person. Maybe it had to do with the way human souls communicated with each other. Maybe the body was just a shell, like the brilliantly colored petals of a flower, something to attract other souls to it. Once those souls were in a certain proximity to each other, they began communicating in some unspoken, intangible way that we weren't even aware of on a conscious level. I knew I felt something undefinable tugging at me when I was close to Jesse.
If this was something close to the truth (as far as a nearly fourteen year old boy could understand it), then it seemed that Tom's soul must have sensed something in me that it was attracted to, some inner quality that I wasn't aware of, and maybe even Tom wasn't consciously cognizant of. And for my part, I guessed it was pretty plain to me that my soul had already found it's mate and it wasn't searching for anything other than that special and unique soul wrapped in the beautiful package that was Jesse Taylor. The only other one who seemed to tickle me a little in that sense was Jessica...
"This is so cool!" Tom crooned loudly. He was breathing heavily now and I sensed that he was perhaps on his way to another passionate experience.
I was shaken out of my reverie as I realized Tom's feet were pressed so hard against mine that my butt was starting to slide on the smooth floor back towards the 'bedroom' area. Now that I was focused again, I planted the palms of my hands flat against the floor, and stiffened the muscles in my legs, just trying to keep from flying away!
Tom was looking right into my eyes and I quickly averted them, knowing that they were such an open window to my inner thoughts and feelings. I was about to tell him to lighten up a little as I felt my knees getting ready to buckle at the forceful and constant pressure, but he abruptly eased up. With an intensely focused look on his youthful face, he tucked his legs under him, lowered his head and started showering my feet with kisses--moist, sucking kisses that tickled when he pressed his lips against my soles. The kisses soon turned into licking, and Tom's tongue explored everywhere it could, over every toe, up and down my soles, over the arches, lingering on the heels, and then sliding wetly back up. He lifted his head for a moment and his eyes had a sort of glazed look. He was breathing heavily now. He lowered his head and grasped my right ankle. He started working exclusively on my right foot, again attacking my already saliva soaked toes, this time allowing his tongue to probe under my short nails and then even into the crevices between my toes.
I was squirming furiously now, because Tom's tongue was really tickling me. When he licked my sole up and down it felt like thousands of wet, tiny fingers gliding along the wrinkled surface. When he licked between my toes it caused me to burst out in laughter and grasp vainly at the smooth surface of the floor.
"Stop, Tom!" I gasped between bouts of uncontrollable laughter. "Let go--please!" But he didn't stop. In fact, his licking and sucking became even more intense. I tried to pull away, but he held my ankle tightly with both hands. I'd have to either push him off with my left foot, or try to drag myself away. When the floor proved too slippery for me to really get enough traction to pull myself out of his grip, I hesitantly put my foot up on his stooped shoulder, ready to shove myself out of his reach.
Tom for his part was moaning and mumbling to himself, gasping for quick gulps of air between frantically licking and sucking my toes. Now he was actually taking them into his mouth, first my big toe, then the next two, and then all five at once! Tom's mouth bulged grotesquely outwards as if his cheeks were full of acorns as he encompassed the whole front part of my right foot!
"Tom, let go!" I urged him as I planted my left foot more firmly on his right shoulder. I was getting ready to push with as much force as I could muster, when I felt a sharp pain.
"Owwwww!!!" I cried, feeling Tom's teeth sink into my right foot. My first instinct was to yank it out, but I realized that would cause more damage then just holding still despite the pain. "Stop it, Tom! You're hurting me!" I gasped desperately.
When in Hollywood, please visit the Perry and Jesse Forum. Wholesome fun for the entire, sex crazed family! You can leave your comments and criticisms there, or browse through some of the other topics and articles, and leave your comments and questions, or just introduce yourself to the rest of the gang of hopeless romantics. Join us at: http://www.livejournal.com/~underthehood/
I also encourage you to email me at: firstname.lastname@example.org with your comments and constructive criticisms.