The Broken Road
By: Gabriel A. Shaw (firstname.lastname@example.org)
Disclaimer: Please obey all local and federal laws regarding erotic and homoerotic material. If you are under eighteen or twenty-one in designated areas, please do not continue. If you are offended by material depicting homoerotic behavior, homosexuals engaging in sex, or depictions of romance between homosexuals, please do not continue. You have been warned.
Author's note: This is my first attempt at publishing (via the web or any other method) any of my writing. I am in desperate need of an experienced editor and plenty of reader feedback if I am to continue posting this story. Please read and review. Criticisms in all forms welcome.
A Brief Prologue: The morning after the morning after...
I stared at the blank page of paper in my journal, wondering what to write. What could I write? What could I say that would make it sound alright? "I'm only fourteen and I touched another boy's dick today?" Damn you, Greg! I felt so dirty, so wrong.
I closed my eyes and rolled over in my bed, mentally cursing the boner that was starting to form in my shorts. He made me touch him, the bastard, but the shitty thing was that I liked it. He made me! I closed my eyes and shuddered as I remembered the feeling of the cold concrete wall against my back and the uncomfortable bed beneath me. My breathing accelerated as I remembered the heat of his member in my hand and the excited fear I felt.
I nearly wept under the colossal wave of shame that swept over me. I touched him! I cringed inside as I imagined my father's response. I could almost feel the disappointment. Yes, even at that age, I could feel it. I didn't want to do it ever again.
I was lying, I knew, because a deeper part of me wanted to find Greg and do it again...and maybe more. I could feel a small monster inside me ravenous with the hunger for forbidden feelings. I could feel the rising tide within me and I knew that I would never be the same.
Greg was certainly making quite a faggot of himself. I stared at him with disgust as he led a drunk Colin Harper by the hand upstairs. Colin was too young, and Greg knew it, but then he'd always been settled to fuck anything that moved just right. Colin was too drunk and stupid to realize what he was getting himself into. Before the night was over, Colin would be under the manipulative little thumb of Greg, just like more boys than would care to admit it.
Greg was a whore, but a diplomatic one. He'd sleep with you, sure. Hell, he'd even show you the time of your life, but God help you if you ever wanted out. The boy was vicious like a goddamned middle school girl. He was a bitch if there ever was one and everyone knew it, but they all respected the money his father threw around like candy enough to be afraid to piss him off. Greg White, Sr. was quite a powerful man, and even though he held no public office, you could be damn sure his influence spread from the courthouse to the outhouse, and then some.
I took another sip of my beer, cautiously observing everyone in the place. That had been my nature since my dealings with high school life had begun three years before. I was damned paranoid, and for good reason, too. I had broken old Greg's heart back in the day. Apparently, I was his first fag crush, and when I decided to play it straight, he was crushed and made up for it by sleeping with anything that had a penis and was willing to use it.
I still lived in fear that he'd out me for what I had been, but he'd made no moves toward me in any sense of the word. I glanced over at my girlfriend Lauren's group to make sure she was unmolested by any unwanted males, and satisfied that my blonde-haired, blue-eyed beauty queen was still safe, I continued watching people. It drove Lauren crazy, my nervous habit of going all FBI on everyone, but I couldn't help it.
I'm a cautious person by nature, slow to trust, and quick to judge, but I say this without one iota of pride or arrogance: I'm a scary judge of character. I'll pick a fraud out quicker than a dog'll eat a steak. I guess that's what makes me such a good fraud.
No one knew what was going on inside me. No one knew I still struggled with the same feelings Greg had stirred up all those years ago at summer camp. No one knew that I was scared to death every time Lauren and I slept together that I wouldn't get it up or perform. Now don't get me wrong, Lauren's beautiful and I love her as much as any guy loves his girlfriend, but there are sometimes when I can barely keep my...other desires under control.
I wouldn't call myself a bisexual, because deep down, I know what sex makes my blood boil. Women are great, soft and supple, all curves and gentle strength, but men...oh, men. Men are hard, angular, strong...they are sex. Penis, dick, cock, prick. Call it what you want, there's just something about the thought of it that drives me insane.
I frowned as I caught myself eyeballing a sophomore's flat stomach as he wiped his mouth with his shirttail.
"Dammit," I sighed, I usually had more control than that.
As if on cue, Lauren was at my side. She can always tell when I start to get horny.
"You wanna leave?" she asked, her perfect face awash with knowing.
I kissed her.
"You always know," I whispered against her mouth.
She grabbed me by the hand and led me out to my Avalanche. We were silent as I started the truck and pulled out of the driveway and headed toward her house down by Bay Lake. When we were getting close, she calmly put her hand on my lap.
"How do you always know?" I asked, looking over at her serene face.
"You have a look," she said, smiling, "like you're the most hungry man on the face of the earth...like you could eat a whole cow if you had the chance."
We pulled up to her house and were kissing before I had a chance to respond. She pressed against me with a gentle need and I answered with aggression. We wrestled our way down to her boathouse (where we went to be "alone.") My shirt was already off and my hand was up her blouse before we even got inside.
It was like we were fighting each other to be naked until finally I pushed into her warm softness and the real battle began. As a couple, we didn't have sex, we didn't make love, we fucked. It was hard and rough with lots of noise and sensations. Lauren mused once that we should be on porn movies, but I doubt I'd fool anyone on a porn set. Lauren usually orgasmed a couple of times, but believe you me, it wasn't because I was such a good lover, it was because I had to work so hard to get off.
Whatever the case, it made me look good, because while I was so busy trying to imagine someone hot enough to get me off, Lauren was riding the O-train a second time around. When I finally came, I fell against her and we lay their, our sweaty bodies tangled like a human pretzel.
"You're beautiful," I said, kissing her gently.
I felt bad for faking it with her, but she really was a gentle, beautiful girl, and I was perceptive enough to know that she had emotional needs that needed feeling. I figured since I was her boyfriend, I might as well treat her the way she deserved to be treated. She'd never been anything but good to me.
"So are you," she whispered, draping an arm over me.
"Guys aren't beautiful, babe," I laughed putting an arm behind my head for support.
We were lying on an oversized futon that was our usual place, and it didn't have any pillows (and I'm a big pillow guy), so I was dying.
"You are," she said, "honestly."
"You remember back in the day when I was a fatty?" I asked, smiling.
"You were never fat...just big..."
"...Big-boned," I finished for her.
We both laughed and she hugged me.
"Stay with me," she said as I began to sit up.
"You know I can't, baby," I sighed, "I gotta work in the morning. Me and Dad have to plant the back five acres tomorrow, and he's been in a pissy mood the last couple of days. I don't want to give him a reason to be pissy with me."
"Call me," she said as I stood up, reaching for my underwear.
She was shamelessly checking me out and I laughed at her.
"What?" she asked, as innocent as a schoolgirl.
"You're looking," I pointed out, nodding toward my crotch.
"I like it," she shrugged.
"It aims to please," I grinned, slipping on my underwear and reaching for my jeans.
"It does," she smiled.
I shook my head and finished dressing before leaning over and kissing her gently.
"Love you," I said as I headed toward my truck.
"Love you back," she said as I closed the door.
I looked at the clock and winced at the time. It was getting close to twelve and I had to be up by at least six. I picked up my Nextel from the middle console and called up my twin sister, Jenny's radio number. I alerted her and waited a couple of seconds before she responed.
"What do you want, Jake?" her voice said.
"What're you doing, Doodlebug?" I asked, using my pet name for her.
"SOS," she said, "same old shit, hanging out with Chase."
Jenny was into the whole emo scene and Chase was her consummate consort. He wasn't quite her boyfriend, and he wasn't quite just an acquaintance, either. They were probably at a concert themed around how sucky life was and how the world was out to get them. I couldn't get into that whole music thing she was into. I liked good old rock and country, but start whining about how depressing your life is, and I get really tired.
"You gonna make an honest man of Chase?" I asked, hoping she'd quit acting like a bitch and give the guy some credit.
He was a pretty decent kid, if a little melancholy all the time.
"Nah," she said.
"You're being a bitch, Doodlebug," I cautioned.
I was the protective twin.
"Fuck you, Jake," she said, "why don't you go sleep with Beauty Queen Barbie."
"Too late," I said, just to gross her out (since she hated hearing about my sex life.)
"Eww," she said.
The rest was garbled when loud, obnoxious-sounding music began to play, but I did make out "concert starting" and "love you."
I laughed and closed my phone, turning into the long driveway to my house. It had to have been more than two hours since Lauren and I'd left the party, so you can imagine my surprise to see Greg's black sports car waiting for me. My heart nearly stopped. What the hell did he want?
I immediately jumped out of my truck and headed for his car. He was lying on the hood, staring up at the stars.
"Lauren still recovering from ya'lls action?" he asked coyly.
"What the hell are you doing here?" I asked.
"Nice to see you too, Jake," he said, finally turning to look at me.
His normally-clear green eyes were bloodshot and he had a goofy look on his face. He was clearly lit.
"Jesus, Greg," I sighed, "what the hell did you do?"
"Just a little weed," he said, waving his hand, "it was nothing. Tommy Baxter gave it to me."
"Tommy Baxter's a dick and you know it, Greg," I said, "he probably laced it with coke."
"Dick," Greg laughed, "you said dick."
I sighed and crossed my arms, running my fingers through my hair in frustration.
"What do you want, Greg?" I asked.
"That's a good question, Jake," he said, looking back up to the stars, "do you ever think about...you know?"
"Think about what?" I asked, knowing full well what he meant.
"You know," he said, laughing goofily and acted as if he were jacking off, "that."
"Not really," I said, "now that you mention it."
"Oh yeah," he grinned, "you've got Lauren now. You're one of them."
"What the hell are you talking about?" I asked.
"I'm gay, Jake," he laughed, "I've never actually said that before, have I?"
"You never needed to, Greg," I said, sighing, "everyone kind of knows."
"I guess they do, huh?" he frowned, tugging at a strand of his flawlessly-shagged brown hair, "I wanted you to hear it from me."
"Thanks," I said, "is that all?"
"You weren't always an asshole, Jake," he said, leaning up, his face inches from mine, "you used to be...really sweet."
"You're high, Greg," I said, "go home. You probably won't even remember this in the morning."
"Good," he said, "then I won't be ashamed of myself for remembering this..."
He pulled my face close and kissed me square on the lips. The barely-caged beast roared inside of me to kiss him back, but I pushed away, wiping my mouth and uttering a nasty string of bad words.
"What the fuck, dude?" I asked, wiping my mouth again.
"I want you," he said, all the emotion suddenly draining from his face, "it's that simple. I've always wanted you. I've wanted you ever since we messed around as kids."
"It was like...three times at summer camp, at least three years ago Greg," I said, "it was just kids messing around. Jesus."
"I'm not talking about then," he said, slipping off his car, and walking towards me, "I'm talking about now."
"Don't do anything you're going to regret, Greg," I said, "I'm not like that."
"I'll do things to you that'll make you forget what a pussy feels like," he said, his eyes empty, and yet vaguely desperate.
"I doubt that," I said, putting an arm between us.
"Just let me suck you off, then," he said, "please, I'm so horny!"
I wanted to let him...maybe even do him. I shuddered at the thought and pushed it out of my mind.
"Listen to yourself!" I shouted at him, "God, can you hear how pathetic you sound, you tired old fag? Have you finally fucked yourself through all the willing boys in the school that you have to come begging to me."
I felt horrible immediately, and he looked hurt...badly.
"I'm sorry, Greg," I said, "I didn't mean it."
"You're right," he laughed emptily, getting into his black BMW roadster, "I'm pathetic."
"Greg, stop," I said, my old paranoia flaring up, "let's talk about this."
"You were special, you know," Greg said, "you were the first boy I ever had a crush on."
With that, he cranked up and sped off, leaving me to watch and wonder.
-End Chapter 1
Coprygith 2006 Gabriel A. Shaw
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