The following contains mild descriptions of sexual acts between young people. It is an original work of fiction and has no basis in reality.
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Morgan and Derek were still waiting for their ride and Jesse was standing at the bus stop when my mom picked me up. I’d already told her that Morgan wanted me to come over and work on some strategies for the game on Thursday, and she had readily agreed. It was clear that she saw Morgan as the ‘right’ kind of friend, the earnest but sensitive jock, a ‘normal’ boy with whom she felt a sense of comfort. And Jesse...I knew she had apprehensions about him, but to her credit, she seemed more than willing to give him the benefit of the doubt, or at least a second chance. I had to be grateful to her for that. Since she knew nothing about our ravenous sexual appetites for one another, the simple admonishment that we shouldn’t see each other outside of school until after the Christmas break was surely nothing more than a token punishment in her eyes.
Morgan had suggested that I go home and clean up first. I told my mom I’d ride my bike over to the Kipner’s. She was worried that it would be dark by the time I left, but I reminded her that it was only a few blocks, all within the comfy limits of our well-lit community of Coronado Hills. Besides, I was fourteen now and more than capable of crossing the street without an adult holding my hand.
I decided to go for a quick shower. I for sure needed to do something! I’d been going crazy all last night and today, trying to imagine how I was going to deal with what Morgan wanted to do. He seemed distant today at lunch and I wasn’t sure if it was my imagination or not, but so did Jesse. I think he really was worried about me despite his assurances that I was doing the right thing. I had the feeling that this situation was wrong. Morgan was straight and I was certain he wanted to keep it that way as much as I did.
I kept seeing that worried look on Morgan’s long, expressive face, kept thinking about that afternoon in my bedroom when he had unintentionally hit me. Damn—this was all because of me! I was somehow messing up his life in a big way and I felt terrible about it. I would do this thing he wanted no matter how uncomfortable I was with it. But then what? Would Morgan just pat me on the head for a job well done and everything would then go back to the way it was at the beginning of the school year? It seemed that if he had sexual feelings for me, and if those feelings were anything even remotely like what I felt for Jesse—the insatiable physical desire combined with a deep sense of friendship and loyalty—then it would be hard to walk away. He might want to do this more often, turn it into a regular thing: me jacking him off, him jacking me off. Where and when would it end? I was also worried how would it affect his relationship with Katy. She deserved Morgan’s full attention.
I dressed in a long sleeved, light gray Calvin Klein T-shirt made of super soft cotton and a little spandex, with a black collar and black trim on the sleeves and tails. The only thing was that the spandex made it a bit clingy and I wondered if I might be leading Morgan on somehow by wearing something that so clearly showed off my skinny torso. But then I realized what a ludicrous thought that was. Whatever Morgan’s problem was, it had a lot more to do with stuff in his own head than it did with me and my actual physical appearance. No matter what time of the day or night, no matter how wide awake or tired, how buoyant or despondent, no matter in what mirror I looked—big, small, public or private, I was always the same skinny, brown haired, plain ol’ Perry Thompson I’d always been. It didn’t matter what Tom or Gary, or Jessica said. If Jesse saw something in me, then it was something deep down inside. I smiled, remembering what he had said about my soul belonging only to him. Yeah...that was cool.
As I pulled on my socks and stuffed my legs into my Levi’s, I wondered yet again what it was about me specifically that attracted Morgan in such an unusual way. I was his lesser in nearly every way—especially physically. I did a little better than him in academics, but he was intelligent, and he enjoyed reading for fun—which was more than you could say about most jocks, and he far outshone me in his athletic skills. He was a take-charge kind of guy while I hated to make decisions or bear the responsibility of guiding others. It was a real puzzle to me, more so than any of the other relationships I had become involved in. While I had to accept that Tom, who truly felt that he was gay, had real and deep feelings for me, feelings that somehow touched his soul but not mine, but I somehow didn’t think that was where Morgan was coming from. I didn’t think he was gay or even bi. He exuded straightness, and if he had been a little shy with Melissa that summer before the seventh grade, well...who could blame him? She had blossomed early and her hormones had rocketed to full strength while most of the rest of us were just becoming aware that our bodies (and priorities) were starting to change. And yet, Morgan’s interest in jacking me off was clearly more than a casual thing. Nor was it a simple question of reciprocity. He saw something especially in me that aroused sexual feelings in him, and I think that frightened him as much as it did me.
I put on my Northwestern hoodie (feeling that I was taking a little bit of Jesse along with me), and got my bike out of the garage. I noticed my helmet felt a little loose since I had gotten a haircut. While it had felt good to do it at the time, I had to admit that I actually missed that shaggy mop of wavy brown chaos, and I was determined to let it grow back over the Christmas break and beyond.
It was less than a ten minute bike ride to the Kipners, but it was pretty much all uphill and I felt winded as well as refreshed as I pulled into the empty driveway. There were a couple of nice looking racing bikes up against the garage, and right on cue, Dumbbell began barking from the backyard as I put my bike alongside the others, preferring to lean it up against the garage wall rather than using the kickstand. Morgan had already stepped out of the kitchen door by the time I got my helmet off. I left it dangling on one of the handle bars. He had on a white YMCA T-shirt, loose fitting, faded blue jeans, and his well-worn Airwalks.
“Hey, Per. I was getting worried there that maybe you uh...changed your mind or something,” Morgan noted, his dark eyebrows knit tightly over his close set, dark green eyes.
“Sorry, I just felt like grabbing a quick shower first.”
“No problem,” he said with a weak smile.
It was a little weird actually entering the Kipner abode for the first time since having that wild dream about Derek and his blackmail scheme. But it all looked much the same as it had the last time I had been over here to shoot hoops. Man, had that been way back in June?
“Can I get you anything?” Morgan asked, opening the stainless steel Subzero and poking his head in.
I felt like a Coke but figured I didn’t need the extra jolt of caffeine right now—I was already feeling jittery enough!
“Some Gatorade?” he asked when I didn’t respond right away.
“Uh...no, maybe just some cold water.”
“Here,” he said, handing me a cold bottle of Sparkletts. I was tempted to instruct him to just go ahead and pour it over my head. I chugged about half of it down immediately, feeling unusually thirsty after my short uphill bike ride. He grabbed a bottle of blue Gatorade and headed into the house. As we walked through the large, high ceilinged living room, I noted the family portrait over the wall, dominated by the imposing figure of a smiling, mustached Mr. Kipner looking slightly uncomfortable in his suit and tie, a well coifed Mrs. Kipner, a relatively short and stout woman compared to her husband, dressed in her Sunday best, the pleasant and kind face of Morgan’s older sister, Allison, lean and nicely tanned, framed by long, dark brown hair that laid flat against her head and curled at the shoulders, Morgan looking confident and athletic despite the monkey suit, and of course, bright-eyed Derek, looking like he could barely sit still long enough for a serious portrait. I was surprised when we walked past the large, curving staircase, since I knew his bedroom was upstairs.
“Um...where are we going?” I asked, trying not to sound overly nervous.
“Oh, uh, My dad’s home office—he hardly ever uses it.”
He stopped in front of a closed door of highly polished dark wood.
“Are you sure it’s okay to use your dad’s room?” I asked, wondering why he wanted to jack me off in such an unusual venue.
“Per...uh.... This is gonna seem pretty weird.” Morgan began hesitantly.
That was, so far, the understatement of the day. I just waited impassively to hear what he had to say, stifling the urge to giggle like a mental patient.
“I...we...that is, Jesse and me, we came up with this idea...sorta like a game.”
“A game?” That did sound like Jesse! How I wished that he was here!
“Yeah, well, like.... It’s like we’re going into a therapy session,” he explained awkwardly.
“You mean we’re gonna talk about our feelings and stuff?”
Morgan nodded. “Yeah, something like that...only, well...I don’t know if you’ll like it or not....” His voice trailed off guiltily.
I didn’t see how pretending to go to a therapy session was going to lead to Morgan doing what I knew he wanted to do, but for now, I was letting him call the shots. As Jesse had told me, I would just speak up if I thought things were going in a bad direction, confident that Morgan would never do anything to me against my will. Even as I recalled Jesse’s words, I felt the sting on my cheek where Morgan had smacked me.
“I’m totally here for you,” I assured him. “You’re my friend and I just want to make everything good between us.”
Morgan nodded and offered a shaky smile. “Yeah, I want that too. I want...a lot of things.... It’s been really hard, living with all these feelings and crazy ideas.”
What did he mean by crazy ideas?!
“But if you’re ready....”
Now I understood why we were going to his dad’s office. That would fit with the therapy idea.
“What do I have to do?”
Morgan shrugged. “Just be yourself. The best thing is if you’re just totally truthful about everything.... I’m gonna be...gonna try to be...honest with you.”
“Okay,” I agreed hesitantly, still wondering what this all had to do with Morgan’s desire to give me a hand job. Maybe he had abandoned the idea, or Jesse had been able to talk him out of it. That would be such a relief. We’d just sit and tell each other how we felt, maybe have a nice hug—yeah, I liked hugs just fine—and then shoot some hoops before it got too dark outside.
Morgan opened the door and went in first. I followed, noting first the dark wood paneling on the walls and darker wood moldings along the ceiling. The floor was carpeted in a springy maroon berber, and the furniture was all dark, padded leather. Behind the large, uncluttered desk...behind the desk!
It was definitely like a scene out of the Twilight Zone, when Jesse, dressed in a white, long sleeved, button down shirt and conservative dark tie, came over to me with a very fake looking smile on his beautiful face.
“Good afternoon Morgan. I presume this is the friend you’ve been telling me about—Perry?”
“Ah, yeah...uh...Doctor Taylor. This is my friend, Perry Thompson. Perry, this is Doc Taylor.” Morgan spoke like he knew his lines but was feeling very self-conscious about reciting them.
My head was really spinning now. What was Jesse doing here? He was supposed to be tutoring, and more importantly, we weren’t supposed to see each other outside of school! What if one of our moms found out?!
“Jesse...you’re not...I mean, we’re not, I mean,” I stuttered stupidly.
“You can call me Jesse if you like, although surprisingly, most people prefer the formal title for some reason,” Jesse noted in a calm, professional sounding voice, staying perfectly in character.
All right, I told myself, Jesse was here. That was great, wasn’t it? He’d keep Morgan from freaking out, and maybe help us all get to the bottom of this strange problem of his. I had to trust that Jesse knew what he was doing, and had made the appropriate arrangements so that he—or I—wouldn’t get in any trouble over this.
“Don’t you have tutoring today?” I asked confusedly, not quite ready to jump into this little fantasy head first.
“Um...everything’s just fine,” Jesse assured me, half in, and half out of character. He gave me a confident, playful wink. “Now why don’t you boys just have a seat. We have a lot to cover in our session today.” I noted he was still wearing his black school pants and Vans sneakers, but he still looked totally hot!
I surveyed the room more thoroughly now, noting the closed wooden blinds on the windows behind Mr. Kipner’s oak paneled desk, that still let in a little of the quickly diminishing late afternoon light. Otherwise, there was a stylish lamp on the desk, and a couple of sconces on the wall, giving the paneled and carpeted room a warm but professional feeling. There was a big, puffy sofa against the other wall along with some plaques and awards. Photos of Mr. Kipner shaking hands with various important-looking people, one of him and Morgan decked out in their hunting regalia, and a big painting of a heavily antlered buck racing through the woods helped to emphasize the masculine character of the room. Opposite the door we had entered through was an open doorway that led into a short hall with a double doored closet along one wall and a half-open door that probably lead to a bathroom. At the end of the short corridor was a solid-looking door with a deadbolt that probably led out to the backyard...and Dumbbell.
Morgan gestured toward the sofa and waited for me to sit before he sat a comfortable distance from me. There was a thick and heavy wooden coffee table in front of the sofa, strewn with various trade magazines covering contracting, remodeling, and architecture.
“So, let’s get started,” Jesse said, sitting back down in the leather padded swivel chair behind the large desk, looking small and child-like in his starched white shirt and tie, his long, shiny blond hair spilling over the collar. He seemed relatively relaxed considering the strangeness of the situation, but I knew Jesse liked to play these kinds of fantasy games and in that sense, he was in his element.
“Now Perry, I don’t want you to be distressed by this, but Morgan has talked about you a great deal through the course of our sessions. He thinks very highly of you, not just as a friend, but as a human being. He sees characteristics in you that he greatly admires...envies even.”
Morgan, with his elbows locked, his hands gripping his knees, sat near the edge of the sofa, leaning slightly forward. I had no idea if Morgan had ever gotten involved in a role playing game on the serious level that Jesse liked to play them. He certainly didn’t look comfortable, but he had plenty of reasons for that! For my part, I felt like I was on camera or something, and wasn’t quite sure where to look or what to do with my hands. It was so confusing to suddenly see Jesse here, dressed the way he was, when I had just seen him less than an hour ago, wearing his St. Boniface hoodie, backpack slung over one shoulder, waiting for his bus. Now he was looking at us as Dr. Taylor: relaxed, sophisticated—a confident professional in total control of the situation. I wondered if we really would be able to talk honestly about some of the things that were going on, or if someone would start having a giggling fit at some point and cause the whole illusion to collapse. But so far, the mood seemed tense, and I certainly didn’t feel like laughing, so I figured I would make the best of it and see what I could learn from this ‘therapy’ session.
“Now you should know a couple of things from the get go, Perry,” Jesse explained leisurely. “First, it is of paramount importance that you always speak the truth, regardless of whether it feels uncomfortable, or you’re afraid it will give offense, or even if it’s just plain weird. Honesty is the foundation of everything we do here. Without it, everything else is just a house of cards. Do you understand?”
I nodded. “Yeah, sure...uh...Doctor Taylor.” Oh no! I was starting to smile! Doctor Taylor—gees!
“And the second thing is, I’m known in some professional circles for using some rather...unconventional, but highly effective techniques to achieve breakthroughs with my patients. I hope you will keep an open mind and remember above all else, that we are here to help Morgan deal with some very strong, difficult, and even conflicting feelings...most of which focus on you.”
“Okay...I understand,” I assured him, realizing that Jesse was actually being serious. We were playing a game, but as he reminded me, we were also here to somehow help Morgan. I had to keep that in the front of my mind, regardless of what went on here today.
“Just so you know, Perry, Morgan told me all about the afternoon he came to your house, got uh...slightly inebriated, and insisted that you engage in some rather mild sexual interplay.”
I blushed, even though it was Jesse. I wasn’t sure handling Morgan’s massive dick and watching him spray his seminal fluids right up to his nostrils constituted mild sexual interplay.
“And he told me that, when you refused to allow him to reciprocate, he lost his temper for a brief moment and struck you. Is that pretty much how you would describe it?”
I nodded mutely, then added: “I don’t think he really meant to hurt me.”
“Good, then. Now the first thing I want you boys to do, is come and stand in front of the table.”
Jesse waited patiently, elbows on the desk, his chin resting on his steepled fingers, as Morgan and I got up and came around the stocky piece of furniture.
“Now, I want you to turn your backs to each other.” Jesse waited while we complied. I ended up staring at the closed door through which we had come. Had Morgan locked it after we came in? I thought he had, but I wasn’t certain. A little shiver of fear coursed through my body as I imagined some member of Morgan’s family suddenly popping in unannounced.
“I want you to take turns saying something positive about each other, something pertaining to a nonphysical attribute. Morgan, why don’t you go first?”
“Well...um...” Morgan said, sounding like he really was in a therapy session and while feeling tense and uncomfortable, also trying his best to be earnest. “Perry’s always thinking about others—how he can help his friends and stuff.”
“Morgan always points out other people’s achievements before his own...like on the basketball team.”
“Ah yes...the basketball,” Jesse mused. “Good, good. Morgan?”
“Perry seems to be able to get along with anybody. Almost everyone likes him.”
“That’s actually two things, but certainly related. Well done. Perry?”
“Morgan was the first person to go out of his way and befriend me when I came to St. Boniface last year.”
“Yes, that’s something we have discussed in our sessions here,” Jesse affirmed. “That went very well. Now, I’d like you boys to turn and face each other...but stay a good ten feet apart or so.”
Morgan and I turned and stepped further apart, and for some reason, it was really hard to look each other in the eye.
“I want you to both take off your shirts, please,” Jesse requested.
Okay, now this was getting weird. But even as I hesitated, Morgan grabbed the loose tails of his T-shirt and lifted it up over his head, exposing his smooth, evenly muscled torso.
“Um...is this really necessary?” I asked squeamishly.
“Actually,” Jesse said, his gaze fixating on me even though Morgan was now stunningly half naked, “neither one of you has to do anything. Requests will be made. Approaches will be tried, but if you say the word, it will all come to an immediate and unequivocal end.”
I realized that what he meant was that I could say ‘no’ any time I wanted, but that would mean the end for Morgan as well. And wasn’t the whole reason we were here to help Morgan through his feelings and problems? I pulled the Northwestern hoodie over my head and tossed it back on the sofa along with Morgan’s T-shirt. I again hesitated as I saw that Morgan was now staring at me intently from across the room.
“That’s a very handsome shirt, Perry,” Dr. Taylor noted pleasantly.
“Thanks,” I muttered. Moving as quickly as I could to get it over with, I pulled my T-shirt over my head and tugged the clinging sleeves down my arms. I felt the slightly cool air brush my chest and back as I tossed the shirt over with the other stuff.
“It would be good if you could also remove your necklace for now,” Jesse noted gently.
He was referring to my crucifix, of course. That was an interesting request, and I didn’t imagine it had anything to do with Morgan. I wondered if it was because it had been a gift from Jessica? I didn’t know why I had even bothered putting it on after my shower. Just habit I guess. At least I had left the friendship band that usually clung to my left ankle all day, at home. I unclasped the thin chainlink and laid it on the coffee table, before resuming my position facing Morgan. I was now naked from the waist up except for my wristwatch.
“Now I’d like you to take turns remarking on each other’s physical attributes. These can be as subjective or specific as you’d like. Just be honest. Perry, why don’t you go first?”
My brain kept switching from nervousness to fright to giddiness, sometimes all in the matter of a few heartbeats. Jesse was doing such a good job pretending to be a therapist, with his steady inflection, clinical detachment, and all the appropriate sounding lingo, that it was making the whole situation feel unsettlingly real.
“Well...uh...Morgan has a great physique...I wish I looked like that!”
Morgan seemed really touched by this compliment and I saw his eyes get a little watery. “You-you’re...” he stammered in a barely audible voice, “you’re so beautiful, Perry.”
“Morgan, can you clarify what you mean by that?” Jesse asked, as if what he had just heard was nothing more than par for the course.
Morgan nodded, still staring at me intensely. I had to constantly resist the urge to cross my arms over my bare chest.
“Perry just seems like...like the perfect boy. Everything about him is so stunning...his hair, his eyes, his nose, his mouth...And it just keeps going...His shoulders, his arms, his hands—”
“Okay, we get the picture,” Jesse said a bit impatiently. “Perry, what do you think of Morgan’s perspective?”
“I don’t get it,” I admitted without hesitation, because it was totally true. There was nothing perfect or beautiful about me. I was plain, and nothing more. Vanilla! White Bread! Tap water!
“You don’t think you’re physically attractive?” What a strange question to be coming from the mouth of my beautiful blond angel.
I shook my head and cast my eyes to the carpeted floor. I stared, admiring my new skater sneaks, big, puffy, dark grey Etnies with blue trim and fat, light gray laces...very, very cool.
“So you’re saying that Morgan is wrong? That he’s not seeing what he thinks he’s seeing?”
“Huh? Um...” I shrugged helplessly. “I guess...something like that,” I muttered self-consciously.
“Perry, is it possible that you’re the one who’s making an error in judgment? That in fact, Morgan is correct in his asessment—minus the hyperbole perhaps.”
Well, I wasn’t even sure what the heck that meant! “I thought we were here to help Morgan,” I noted dully.
“True, but isn’t it possible that an important part of the solution would be for you to understand where he’s coming from?”
“I guess.” I was starting to really feel like I was in a therapy session now, like the ones we went to at the Catholic Ministries Office in La Jolla after my dad first admitted he was having an affair. Of course, the Church frowned on divorce, and did everything it could to help its members to try and work things out. Those had been long, interminable one hour sessions that had been filled with heavy silences, empty words, and hopeless sighs. I had come to realize quickly, as young as I was, that my parents’ marriage was dissolving right before my eyes, and sitting with a pleasant, gray haired, soft-spoken priest named Father Bertram, for an hour a week wasn’t going to make anything better. I was starting to get the same feeling here, even though this was all fake, and I was actually standing in a room with two of my best friends, one of whom happened to be my soulmate as well.
“Morgan, are there any other boys, or males in your life that you are attracted to in the same way as you are to Perry?”
“No...it’s only him,” Morgan declared resolutely.
“I see...Well, suffice it to say that I find this case extremely intriguing,” Jesse noted with just the right touch of clinical enthusiasm. “I think we should proceed to the next stage.”
“Can I...uh...put my shirt back on now?” I asked sheepishly, finally giving into temptation and wrapping my arms around myself.
“Well, actually, since we are moving into the next phase of our session today, I think I’ll leave that up to Morgan.”
“Please Perry,” Morgan said in a pinched, urgent voice, “don’t feel self-conscious or anything like that. I really meant what I said. I like seeing you like this.”
I just looked away.
“You gotta understand that it’s really hard for me to say these things...out loud,” Morgan admitted quietly.
I hadn’t really thought about that, how hard it was for Morgan to talk about another boy that way. He didn’t see himself as gay and obviously didn’t want anyone thinking that way about him, but still, he was trying his best to be absolutely truthful. And Jesse had said at the outset, that honesty was the cornerstone of everything we were doing. Now I was starting to think Doctor Taylor wasn’t as ridiculous sounding as I had first thought!
“I’m sorry, Morgan. I’m being a total dick. I was just thinking about myself...Please, forgive me?” I asked, finally managing to once again lock gazes with him.
“Oh man...” Morgan uttered emotionally. He dabbed at his eyes with his bare arm, and then looked at Jesse, as if to confirm something. Jesse offered a half smile and nodded. Morgan came up and gently pulled my arms back down to my sides. Then he rubbed his large, sweaty hands over my shoulders and forearms. “You rock; you totally rock!” he said, running his fingers through my hair. Next his warm and clammy hands pressed firmly against my cheeks and a tentative smile was growing on his long, sad face, the corners of his mouth twitching ever so slightly. He suddenly pulled me in and embraced me fully, his arms wrapped around my bare back, palms spread over my shoulder blades, pressing our bare chests and bellies together, and even our denim-clad crotches. He buried his face in the curve of my neck, and then leaned his cheek on my shoulder. “I love you, man. I fuckin’ love you.”
Funny, but that didn’t sound as weird as it should have. Maybe it was because Morgan had been my first and best friend right up to the time that Jesse came blowing into my life like a Category 5 hurricane. Maybe it was because Morgan’s voice was so choked with emotion that there was no conceivable way for the words to be false. The other thing I knew instinctively, was that we weren’t talking soulmates here, just a close bond of friendship that had somehow morphed into something strangely and unexpectedly sexual in nature. If that was the case, maybe there was a way to work through this and come out again as close friends.
“Perry, would you like to respond?” Jesse asked quietly, the quiver in his voice suggesting that he was also moved by Morgan’s emotional declaration.
“Um, well...” I said, trying to ignore the fact that our flesh was pressed together in such an intimate way, “I really like Morgan too—a lot. I admire his athletic skills and—”
“But Morgan said he loved you,” Jesse pointed out. “How do you respond to that?”
I gently pushed Morgan back a few steps so I had some breathing room. His eyes were moist and there was a shaky, awkward smile plastered on his face, making him look frighteningly vulnerable. What could I say that wouldn’t hurt his feelings?
“Morgan’s my friend. I’ll do whatever he wants so that he...feels better about stuff.”
“I see,” Jesse mused, sounding slightly disappointed by my response. “Very well then. This brings us to another issue, one that perhaps bears some scrutiny. The fact that Morgan is a boy, and that he has strong feelings for you, might be difficult for you to handle, Perry,” Jesse said in a lecturing type voice, “but the fact is, it’s just as difficult, or even more so, for Morgan himself. He believes these kinds of feelings—these intense feelings of sexuality focused on you and your physical form, are wrong. He feels that, not only do they go against the mores of Catholicism and society in general, but against his own personal view of who he is.”
“It bothers me that I feel this way about you,” Morgan clarified worriedly.
“Of course. I understand,” I told him sympathetically. Why couldn’t we put our shirts back on and just talk about this? It was so weird to be standing in Mr. Kipner’s office, with all his photos on the wall, and even the faint smell of cigar smoke brushing my nostrils, the two of us half naked, with Jesse sitting pompously behind a desk dressed in a shirt and tie.
Morgan looked at me skeptically, but I think I really was beginning to get the picture. He wasn’t like Tom, who had made up his mind about who and what he was and had made some sort of peace with himself, or even Gary, who had already had an emotional and sexual experience with a boy in the past. This was a guy who had been brought up to appreciate the manly things in life: competitive sports, hunting, probably a little brewski now and then, and a pretty girl on your arm. His father, an imposing physical presence, was clearly against the whole idea of homosexuality and had no tolerance for it in his life. And then, along comes stupid little me, with my dad’s face, forever dazed and confused, fucking his brain up, turning everything he believed about himself upside down.
“I’m so sorry, Morgan,” I apologized helplessly. “I’m so sorry I did this to you.”
“God Almighty, Perry, you didn’t do anything to me, “ Morgan said, the smile still on his face. “I’m the one who fell for you. All you did was be yourself. There’s nothing wrong with that!”
He seemed quite sure about that, but I was no longer so certain. Maybe there was something wrong with being me! Something about my stupid eyes, or my insecurities about my stupid body, or even my constant worrying about my friends and family and how I should interact with them, some thing that was giving people the totally wrong impression about me. While I would never call myself blatantly ugly, I knew my physical appearance was nothing out of the ordinary. I knew ‘hot’ when I saw it, and right now, the very definition was sitting gloriously incarnate behind Mr. Kipner’s big oak desk, with a white collar and navy blue tie, looking good enough to lick off a stick!
“Yes, there’s absolutely nothing to blame yourself for, Perry. And the same goes for you, Morgan,” Jesse, rather, Doctor Taylor, pointed out. “The fact is that Perry is an exceptionally handsome young man, and the fact is, Morgan, you really are drawn to him in the physical sense of the word. The good thing is that you’ve acknowledged that, both to me and to Perry. That is the key to everything.”
“So you think you can help me?” Morgan asked, and it sounded like he really believed for the moment that Jesse was indeed a real honest to goodness psychologist and that there really was a chance that he could somehow be ‘cured’ of these strange and undesirable feelings.
“Morgan, the fact that you and Perry are here today, and talking about these things, even connecting emotionally and physically, is a sign that something good is happening here. This is simply something that has to be dealt with. There is no shame in it, no right or wrong, no magic ‘cure.’ Do you understand that...both of you?”
Man, Jesse was smart! It seemed like he had everything wrapped up with a bow. From where I was standing, it was time for Jesse to rip off his shirt and tie and come around that desk for a big hug and a wet kiss and...and...a bunch of other fun stuff!
“But we digress slightly,” Jesse noted in a calmer, more clinical voice. “The thing that most concerns me at the moment, is Morgan’s response to his own feelings. This is clearly not a good thing, and something that needs to be dealt with, agreed?”
Morgan nodded enthusiastically, his eyes wide with hope and anticipation.
“Let’s proceed with an...experiment, I guess you might call it, something Morgan and I discussed in some detail during our last session. You see, Perry, you have a very warm, but submissive personality, while Morgan, who obviously has strong leadership characteristics, has something of a dominant, but essentially non-egotistical personality. What we want to try here today, is to take that dichotomy of personality traits, pare them down to their essentials, and move this scenario into the realm of fantasy—wish fulfillment if you’d like.”
“Fantasy?” I asked skeptically, wondering if Jerrin, the Boy From Another Dimension, was about to make a sudden appearance.
Jesse nodded. “Exactly. We’re going to take those two aspects and grossly exaggerate them. Morgan, you will be totally dominant, and Perry, you will be totally submissive.”
“I don’t get it,” I admitted. I thought we were already playing out a fantasy.
“There is an opportunity here for Morgan to play out some of his deepest fantasies, and hopefully, by doing that, come to understand, and even make peace with some of the confusing feelings he’s been experiencing. Now Perry, you need to understand once again, that no one’s going to make you do anything you really don’t want to do, okay?”
I nodded hesitantly.
“The way this is normally handled in a typical S & D scenario, is for there to be something called a safe word. This would be a totally crystal clear signal for Perry to declare that he’s had enough—he wants to stop, at which point, Morgan, you must comply. Do you both understand?”
Morgan nodded and glanced at me nervously.
“Safe word?” I asked.
“Sure,” Jesse said with a gentle smile playing across his face. “Some word or very simple phrase that wouldn’t come up in normal conversation, something whose meaning in this situation would be perfectly clear. Does anything come to mind?”
“Well, let me make a suggestion then: Kingcarver.”
“Oh, that’s the—”
Jesse nodded smugly, “Yes, the name of a very popular video game. I do have kids you know!”
When he said that, my first reaction was to open my mouth in disbelief. Then I kicked myself in the head, remembering that this was all a gag! Shit, Jesse was good!
“Okay...Kingcarver,” I said, repeating the word in its new context as a ‘safe word.’
“So Morgan, you are being given a unique opportunity here to truly indulge your deepest, most intimate fantasies. Granted, we have already established some clear boundaries in our previous discussion, and I do reserve the right to intervene at any point if I feel the experiment is not proceeding in a healthy way, understood?”
“So having said that, I think we can begin. Morgan, I’d like you to speak out loud as much as possible, telling us clearly what you want to do or what you want Perry to do. Even though you are the dominant partner in this scenario, you are to treat your sub with the utmost respect at all times, even if the intent of your fantasy is to cause discomfort or even pain.”
“What?!” I asked fearfully.
“I assure you, I will be monitoring the situation closely,” Jesse said in a calm voice. “And remember, you have your safe word. Don’t use it unless you’re absolutely certain you don’t want to proceed, because that will be the end of the experiment. Is that clear?”
“Uh...yeah...sure...” I said, my heart rate starting to increase as my mind raced, trying to anticipate what sort of fantasies Morgan had about me other than wanting to jack me off.
Morgan looked me up and down and I again felt the strongest urge to wrap my arms across my bare chest, but instead, I hooked my thumbs into the tops of my jean pockets, trying futiley to look casual and relaxed.
“Perry, take off your shoes and socks,” he said in a tense, husky voice.
I immediately recalled Morgan kneeling before me in my bedroom, peeling off my socks, and tickling my feet, trying to entice me into engaging in a jack off session with him. I hoped that wasn’t what he had in mind today. It was pretty clear to me now that when people touched my feet, it made me hard regardless of how I was feeling. It was just some weird autosexual reaction. Kingcarver flashed through my mind, but I dismissed it quickly when I saw Morgan looking at me with an expression that was a potent mixture of guilt and desire.
All right, this was no big deal. I glanced around, noting that I could go back and sit on the sofa to do this, and even the coffee table looked sturdy enough to support my weight. But Morgan hadn’t said anything about sitting down, and wasn’t I supposed to follow his orders unquestioningly? So I just stood there and toed off my new sneaks, my feet sinking a little into the carpet. It was a little more tricky taking off my socks like this, so I took my time, balancing on one foot while peeling the sock off the other foot, and then switching. I just left my footwear there next to me, my socks crumpled into two white cotton balls.
“Is there anything more to your request, than simply desiring to see Perry undress?” Jesse inquired.
Morgan nodded without hesitation. “Perry has great feet. They’re really nice to look at.... Don’t you think?”
Jesse went through the motions of rising slightly from his chair and glancing down at my feet. “Very nice. I bet you’ve gone through more than one pair of shoes since the beginning of the school year, huh?” he asked in a kind, fatherly voice (but was it trembling ever so slightly?). “I know how kids’ feet just grow and grow at your age.”
I nodded, scrunching my toes self-consciously into the plush carpeting. I didn’t even notice until he was standing right next to me, that Morgan had approached. “Thanks for doing this,” he whispered. He immediately started working on the single button at the top of my jeans.
“Morgan...?” Jesse inquired calmly but pointedly.
“Yeah...uh...I’m gonna take his pants off now, okay?” I wasn’t sure whose permission he was asking, so I just kept my mouth shut. It wasn’t okay, and all my previous thoughts of being a good and helpful friend suddenly seemed to fly out the window. I realized I had a very real fear of Morgan seeing me naked. I knew he’d be disappointed, and that would probably make him angry and frustrated with me. I wondered if we’d ever be able to be friends again.... Kingcarver, Kingcarver, Kingcarver.... It was becoming a mantra in my head. It even had its own little echo!
“Have you ever done this before—to another boy?” Jesse asked.
“No...of course not,” Morgan answered a bit testily. He was focusing carefully on what he was doing as he tugged my fly down, exposing my light blue boxers. I wondered if he could see my heart pounding against my bare chest as he worked. It took all the restraint I could muster not to grab his arms, or back away. He glanced up at me once, an intense expression on his long face, then lowered his gaze once again as he slipped his thumbs into my jeans and began shimmying them down my hips, tugging only slightly at my boxers. Fortunately, I wasn’t the least bit hard, and felt more like I was in a doctor’s office getting examined, than involved in some bizarre sexual fantasy.
“You can step out...” Morgan suggested, squatting in front of me, having accordioned my pants down to my bare ankles. He held my jeans down as I wiggled my feet free. He stood back up and tossed my jeans on the sofa with our other clothes.
“What are you feeling, Morgan?” Jesse asked.
“Well...uh...I’ve seen Perry in boxers before but....”
“He looks great—with or without clothes, but.... It’s not enough.”
“I understand,” Jesse replied without emotion. “What else?”
“I’m scared I’m doing something terrible to Perry.”
“I asked you not to go there,” Jesse reminded him pointedly. “He can speak for himself.”
Kingcarver, Kingcarver, Kingcarver....
“Is there part of you that’s enjoying this?” Jesse asked.
Morgan nodded and swallowed a lump in his throat.
“Concentrate on that part, please.”
He nodded again and looked at me with a more focused gaze. I saw him set his jaw and his chest swell with a deep inhalation. “Kneel,” he said.
I didn’t even get it at first and I just stood there, feeling skinny and stupid in my boxers.
“You will kneel before me!” Morgan announced more firmly, gritting his teeth, his voice low but uncharacteristically harsh.
“Oh...uh...” I stammered, dropping quickly to my knees in front of his long legs. My eyes were now aligned with his belly button.
“From now on...you are my slave,” Morgan said. It didn’t sound like he was quite convinced himself, but I just nodded, bowing my head. “Say it!” Morgan demanded.
“I—I’m your slave,” I repeated uneasily.
“Your only function is to serve my needs.”
I nodded dutifully. “Sure...your needs.”
“Kiss my feet, slave!”
I glanced down at Morgan’s dingy white and gray Airwalks. I tried to imagine all the places he had trod recently, through dirt, grass, classroom grit, parking lots, driveways. I wondered if he’d stepped in anything in the backyard recently, maybe something left behind by Dumbbell? I started to feel queasy.
“Perry?” Jesse asked calmly.
Well, I wasn’t ready to use my safe word yet, and disappoint Morgan. Jesse had made me realize that fantasies were a big deal. They weren’t just pretty scenes of people skipping through a field of daisies or winning the lottery or sitting on a sandy beach in Hawaii sipping oddly colored drinks with little umbrellas in them. This meant something to Morgan, and Jesse had somehow gotten him to lower his inhibitions. If I messed this up, I sensed that it could have harmful repercussions for my dear, mixed up friend, so I lowered my head and puckered my lips. I decided the laces were my best bet, and touched them quickly, left and then right.
“Untie them,” Morgan ordered.
I collapsed the bows of the dingy gray laces on each sneaker with trembling fingers. Morgan toed the shoes off, leaving his long feet clad in white socks with grey patches on the toes and heels.
“Kiss my feet again!” he ordered through gritted teeth.
I instinctively shook my head, not finding anything the least bit enticing about putting my lips on Morgan’s sockfeet.
“Kiss them, slave!”
I closed my eyes and again lowered my head. I felt the heat coming off the tops of his feet as my lips made contact with the dry fabric of his socks.
“Do it!” Morgan ordered sharply. I puckered my lips and quickly kissed the top of each foot.
“Did you enjoy that, Perry?” Jesse asked, and I didn’t detect the least bit of sarcasm in his clinical tone.
I shook my head.
“How does that make you feel, Morgan?”
“I didn’t think he’d enjoy it. It was just something I wanted him to do.”
“So you enjoyed it?”
Morgan paused and I looked up at him from my knees. “Yeah,” he answered quietly, “I did...I did,” he repeated softly. There was a long pause and I dared to glance up to see him looking down at me with a pained expression.
“Jes...uh...Doc?” Morgan asked, now turning toward the desk. It was a relief just to have his eyes off me for a minute!
“I’m pretty sure I’d like to do that thing...you know, that thing we talked about.”
“I understand. The only request I will make is that you indulge yourself fully in it. I don’t want you to be concerned or wracked with guilt. Perry has his safe word, after all.”
What the fuck were they talking about now?!
Jesse slid open a drawer in the desk and nodded. Morgan went over and pulled out...a coil of rope!
Special thanks to Blue for contributing his precious time and expertise to the editing of P&J. I hope everyone will give him a word of thanks for his efforts at the forum.
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