Date: Sun, 1 Sep 2013 23:20:20 -0500
From: Oliver St. Croix <oliverstcroix@gmail.com>
Subject: "The Quarterback's Queer"

				"The Quarterback's Queer"
			        Chapter 1: Oral Arguments

"Words, Xander! Words!" Margot shouted, her short blonde hair careening
around her freckled face as she examined my motionless body.

I opened my mouth but struggled to articulate anything.

"Uh. Ry," I panted. "Bay. No."

I waved my hands around my torso, trying to convey what I had seen just
minutes earlier.

It was third period, which meant gym. Now, I'm not exactly out of shape, in
fact I played volleyball in middle school and freshman and sophomore year,
but gym is probably my least favorite class. I'm not much for forced
interaction. Today we were supposed to be playing badminton, but my partner
Ira and I decided to hide behind the bleachers and gossip. Ira was a cool
kid saddled with a terrible name. He was also one of the few other kids at
my high school out of the closet. This meant, of course, that we "dated"
freshman year, if you can call watching John Waters movies and holding
hands dating. But then we "broke up" over the summer and decided we were
better off as friends. Ira's dating a senior who's into the same obscure
French rap music he is and I have my hand. Which, whatever. I'm sixteen,
that's part of the whole deal, right?

Ira and I spent the hour catching up and talking about the stupidity of the
junior class. We weren't best friends or anything, we had drifted since
this year started, but it was nice to have Ira in my life. We understood
each other well and I never had to hold back with him. Completely caught up
in our gossip, we missed our gym class heading back to the locker room to
change.

"Shit, I'm going to be late for history." Ira exclaimed, realizing how late
it was. We snuck into the locker rooms, but by then our class was already
leaving and the football players, who sometimes practice during fourth hour
lunch, were piling in. And that's when it happened. I turned down my aisle
in the locker room and there he was.

Ryan Bay.

Standing shirtless.

In a jockstrap.

"Hey Xander, how's it going?" Ryan asked with a smile, completely oblivious
to the look of terror on my face.

My throat dried instantly and I struggled to act normal. "Not much, just
running late for lunch. You?" I replied, not even realizing he did not ask
what was up, rather how it was going. I would berate myself excessively for
that later.

"Ehh," He began wearily, "Coach is making us practice during lunch. Usual
bullshit. Did you do the reading for English?" He asked as he pulled on his
padded pants, setting off the tiniest jiggle in his toned ass.

"Yeah, it was just about F. Scott Fitzgerald's relationship with his wife
Zelda. Make sure you know the stuff about her years as a ballerina. Ira
Pulitzer told me Mrs. Kota gives a quiz. He has her second period." I
replied, laboring to keep my eyes on my locker and my hands off of the
gorgeous, mostly naked young man only a few feet away from me.

Ryan Bay is a fellow junior and already the star quarterback for the
varsity football team. We met earlier this school year when he sat down
next to me in Junior Advanced English. When he walked through the door, I
thought he was lost. At 6'3" he's one of the tallest kids in our
class. He's also pretty hairy with his jaw, forearms, and defined calves
all covered in dark hair. He's muscular, but toned and not too brawny. His
jaw is well defined and he has sharp green eyes and fat puffy lips. He told
me once he was partially Italian which probably explains his lightly tanned
skin. In a word, Ryan Bay is perfect. To me at least.

And now he was standing nearly naked in front of me, asking about Zelda
Fitzgerald, and it was almost impossible to stop myself from falling on my
knees to beg. We carried on for a few more minutes while I changed back
into my regular clothes and he suited up for football.

"See you in class." Ryan said as I left.

"See ya, yeah. Bye" I stammered awkwardly, running off to lunch.

"Do you think we should get someone? Like a nurse?"  Margot asked, worried
because I hadn't said anything in the seven minutes I had been seated our
lunch table, only emitting random sounds paired with heavy breathing.

"Xander. Are. You. Oh. Kay?" my friend Cecil asked me, his thin lips over
enunciating as if he were speaking to a foreigner.

"He's fine. He's just being dramatic. Knock it off!" Astrid shouted,
punching me hard on the arm.

"OW!" I roared, spinning my head around to glare at her.

"Told you." Astrid said. Her face breaking into a smug smile.

"Are you going to tell us what's causing the big freak out?" Thomas asked.

Thomas, Astrid, Cecil, Margot and I had been having lunch together since
the fifth grade. With the exception of Thomas, we initially bonded over our
weird names. He joined us because he was kind of weird too. Six years
laters, we were closer than ever. As close as five people could be,
really. And though I was grateful for them, our bond meant that any sense
of privacy had eroded long ago. As much as I wanted to stay quiet for the
rest of lunch and replay the locker room scene over and over in my mind, I
was forced the recount in great detail what happened.

Astrid, being far too mature for such juvenile concerns, returned to her
book and hummus. Thomas was straight so he wasn't much interested, instead
turning to his Calculus homework. But Margot and Cecil--who wasn't wont to
claim any sexuality--could appreciate the divine beauty of Ryan Bay as well
as I could. They were fully engrossed in my tale. I described in the
greatest detail I could summon the pattern of Ryan's chest hair, his meaty
thighs, and the way his ass dimpled, toned from such hard work on the
field. I was so excited that I didn't even bother to eat.

"You have been chasing him around since last year. Why won't you accept
that he's straight?" Astrid asked, her eyes still on her book.

I didn't respond. I wasn't in the mood for Astrid's usual dourness, I
wanted to revel in the afterglow of a nearly-naked Ryan Bay. The rest of
lunch passed quickly and I hurried off to English.

Ryan, as usual, sat next to me. I could smell his body wash from my seat. A
clean scent that covered the hard sweat he had worked up during
practice. Ryan was one of few boys who didn't drench himself in Axe, giving
him that club douche smell. He always smelled fresh and that made him even
more perfect to me. As his scent wafted towards me, I thought about him
showering in the locker room, his hands washing his hard, wet body. I
thought about joining him, rubbing myself against him as h--

My fantasy was snapped as soon as Ryan spoke. "Z, can you tell me what I
need to know for the quiz again?" He whispered.

Ryan was the only person I allowed to call me Z. The only person I allowed
to call me anything other than Xander. I like my name, I think it's
unique. But Ryan Bay was allowed to call me anything he wanted. Just
knowing he had some sort of nickname for me made my crotch ache. The lust I
had for this boy was immeasurable.

I helped him go over the reading, paying attention to the things Ira said
would be on the quiz. Mrs. Kota, with her dated early 90's pixie haircut
and oversized blouse, always announced pop quizzes with dramatic flair, as
if half the class hadn't already been tipped off. Ryan and I did well on
the quiz and after class he thanked me with a usual fist bump.

The rest of the day felt excruciatingly boring compared to third period. It
was Tuesday, which meant an hour of Debate prep after school. I know Debate
isn't the coolest thing to do in high school, but it was challenging,
competitive, and I was really, really good at it. Every month we worked on
a new topic and had to research and prepare arguments for both sides of the
issue. Thomas was the only one of my close friends on the team, but
everyone on the team was friendly. Debate meant spending long hours
together. Especially on weekends, when tournaments took place. We traveled
to other high schools in the Chicago area, toting heavy briefcases of
research and arguments, dressed in our teenage imitation of business
attire, and spent hours and hours talking about the same issues over and
over again. But I loved it.

For the upcoming tournament I was paired with Craig, a guy I'd known since
middle school, but had never really gotten close to. Like Ira, he was also
out of the closet but unlike Ira had never really shown any interest in
me. We huddled together in a corner of the Debate room and started
spitballing arguments and going over the initial research our coaches had
given us. After a few minutes this devolved into a gossip session. Between
the two of us, Craig and I knew everyone in school. I wouldn't say we were
popular, but friendly and extroverted. This meant people were generally
nice to us and sometimes told us their secrets.

"Well, you know she's trying to fuck Mr. Oswald." Craig said of this girl
Lindsay we had been talking about.

"No way!" I snorted. "She's not even pretty. Besides, Oz is gay."

"Wishful thinking." Craig retorted.

"Probably." I sighed. Mr. Oswald--Oz--was the hunk of the history
department. He stood over six feet tall, built like an Olympian, and had
the cutest red hair I'd ever seen on a guy. I found it difficult to pay
attention in his class, my eyes always wandering to his plump bulge.

Craig and I left the debate room woefully unstudied, having completely
abandoned any hope of work after our discussion on Oz's sexuality.

"My mom is working late tonight. Do you want to come over and go through
the evidence? I have wine coolers." Craig said with a grin as we made our
way to the parking lot. I hesitated, only because Craig seemed a little too
eager. I mean we were friends, kind of, but Craig had never really shown
any interest in me outside of debate. When we were paired for tournaments,
we worked only at school or through email. Never at each other's
house. Plus, Craig was cute. And experienced. He'd been to Boystown. He
sometimes brought his boyfriends to tournaments. He had everything I wanted
for my life. The gay boy I wish I had the courage to be.  Eventually I
agreed and we made plans for me to come over around 8.

I got home and immediately rifled through my closet, desperate to pick out
the perfect outfit. Craig would definitely be wearing something casual but
put-together. He was classy that way. My mom was at work until 9 or later,
so I had the house to myself while I prepped. I took a shower, using my
finest, most expensive products. And as I stepped out I examined myself in
the mirror.

I was mostly okay with my teenaged body. At just about six feet, I had
slender, but developed limbs. My ass was respectable, but nothing too
bodacious. My tummy was fairly flat and my chest was sort of
developed. Overall, puberty had been kind to me so far, sparing me from any
severe acne and gracing me with a decent sized cock. Just over seven
inches. I slicked back my short black hair and let a few strands dangle in
front of my face. I thought I looked cute. I threw on some grey chucks,
jeans, and a bright green t-shirt. I considered a trucker hat, but decided
against it. Too many bros had been sporting them lately. Damn Ashton
Kutcher.

My heart started beating faster the minute I rang Craig's doorbell. This
was a Debate thing. This wasn't a date. What was wrong with me?

As I anticipated, Craig looked really nice. He was in gray jeans that
hugged his lower body in all the right places. His ass looked particularly
great that night. His collared shirt was a deep red that looked striking
against his pale skin. His blonde beard was trimmed close and his short
blonde hair curled just a little. He was super cute and I felt plain
compared to him.

He invited me in and for about an hour we got work done, reading through
evidence, sharing notes and forming arguments. Around 9 he offered me a
wine cooler and from there the amount of work we got done significantly
decreased.

By 10, we were teetering close to intoxication, at least what we thought
intoxication felt like, and had moved from the dining room to Craig's room,
so he could play me an album from a new group called Fall Out Boy. It was a
short album, and he put on No Doubt next. Their new album had been huge at
school.

We were sat on opposite ends of his twin size bed, perched on its edges,
facing his stereo. As Gwen Stefani rocked on, Craig turned to me.

"You look really nice, Xander."

"Aw, thanks Craig. You always look nice. You've got style." I said, bashful
that a cute boy had complimented me.

It only took a moment, and I wasn't even really aware of what was happening
until it had happened, but very quickly and without warning, Craig had
moved himself closer to me and placed his mouth on top of mine.

And as though that weren't overwhelming enough, his hands were on my
thighs, moving closer towards my crotch. I fumbled gracelessly, my hands
pawing uneasily at Craig's body. But I didn't need to do anything, not
really. Craig had slid his tongue against mine, and his long fingers were
comfortably needling my rising member.

He knew exactly what he was doing. Craig was comfortable with another boy's
body, whereas I was still unsure. I had spent hours exploring my own body,
but hadn't spent too much time with anyone else's. Craig sunk to the floor,
kneeling between my legs, and quickly unzipped my jeans and slid them down
my thighs.

He looked up at me and asked, "You ready?" I gave him a small nod.

Ira and I had dabbled in oral last year, but nothing intense. Usually he'd
lick the tip of my penis for a little while and then finish me off with his
hand. I would try and swallow his member but I usually started gagging two
inches in. There was a lot of mutual masturbation between us, which was
still exciting but nothing compared to what Craig offered. Craig had
experience. Craig had skill.

My cock, while not huge, had a bit of heft to it and he handled it
excellently. Without gagging or making the harsh guttural sounds as I did,
Craig steadily worked his mouth down the length of my member, caressing it
with his soft lips and soaking it in his saliva. In what seemed like
fractions of a second, his mouth was pressed against my pelvis, the
entirety of my penis resting comfortably in his throat. He managed to do
this thing that I had seen so many times on the internet, but made it
personal and sexy and it was all so overwhelming, my fingers digging deeply
into his mattress as if I could grip onto reality.

Craig looked up at me with a satisfied twinkle in his eye. He would later
tell me repeatedly that I tasted "good, like really good." And though I
tried to return a smirk or grin or anything remotely sexy, I was terrified
of shooting my load barely two minutes into this magnificent blowjob. It
didn't occur to me to give this talented boy directions, so I silently
prayed Craig would make slow movements. And as if he could read my mind, he
gently retreated off of my cock, his lips softly stroking my length.

The sight of my tanned member sliding in and out of his pale mouth was
beyond comprehension. My sixteen-year old, porn-addled mind couldn't
rectify that this was reality. My head swirled and everything felt surreal,
as if I stumbled into a fever dream. Craig's mouth was warm and soft, and I
kept expecting his teeth to scrape me but he deftly kept them out of the
way. Every part of me tingled, as if I could fall apart at any minute, held
together only by the tip of my penis, currently lodged in Craig's velvet
throat.

After minutes of working slowly, Craig increased his speed, bobbing quickly
up and down on my engorged prick. I ran my fingers through his hair, all
the while moaning uncontrollably. No one had ever made me feel so good.

"Fuck, you're really good at this." I panted. Craig looked up at me and
smirked around my cock. It was the hottest thing I'd ever seen in my life.

"Craig, I'm not going to last much longer." I said loudly.

But he didn't slow, if anything he moved faster. My cock prickled,
preparing for an orgasm like none I'd had before.

Panting, I tried to warn Craig, I even tried pulling out of his mouth, but
he burrowed down, burying me in his throat. Barely three tracks into Rock
Steady I was shooting my warm teenage load down Craig's throat. He gagged
slightly, but after a few seconds he released me, my load mostly gone.

"Have you always been this hot?" Craig said as he wiped himself
clean. "Seriously."

I could feel my cheeks on fire, did Craig really just call me hot? Xander
Diaz was not hot. He was cute, adorable, handsome maybe. But not hot. I
didn't even know what to say, mumbling something about him being crazy and
awkwardly trying to return the compliment.

I wiped the cum out of Craig's short beard as I tried to comprehend what
was happening. Craig had given me a blowjob and then he swallowed my
cum. Swallowed it! Like it was a fucking beverage.

"Listen, I hope things don't get weird at school or anything." Craig
started.

"Not at all!" I said. "This was cool but I'm not going to get all crazy
clingy or anything."

"Cool. Cuz if we could do this and maybe some other stuff without having to
make anything official, that'd be fucking awesome." Craig said with a grin.

"Yeah." I said. "I think I'd really like that."

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Oliver
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