Courtesy of www.99Gay-Men.US

The Suggestive Name, Part 1
by Greg Scott


All the usual stuff about you must be old enough in your jurisdiction, etc.  In other words, if you are underage, don't read this unless you have a really cool teacher who assigned it.  Otherwise, come back in a few years, when nobody will yell at you.

This is the sixteenth story in the series, The Lavender Line.


As I got back from my college visit--well, really it was just a "Keith visit"--I went directly to Karl's house.  I guess that it's also Keith's house whenever he's home from college, since Keith and Karl are brothers.

I pulled up in front of his house and called his mobile.  It was quite late, so I didn't want to wake his parents by ringing the doorbell or knocking.  Karl told me the front door was unlocked; I should just go on up to his room.

The house was ideally suited to a family with three sons.  Mr. and Mrs. Wilson had a small first floor master suite that was in a separate wing of the house.  The bedrooms of the boys were located on the second floor, which didn't extend over the parents' bedroom.  It insulated them well from the noise that the boys must have made while they were growing up.  It also provided Kevin, Keith and Karl with the kind of privacy from their parents that I envied.

I had a crush on Keith since I was twelve, but I had always assumed that he had no interest in guys.  Actually, I guess he had assumed the same thing about me, even though he hardly knew I existed since I was a year younger.

When I finally told Karl who is openly gay earlier this summer about my feelings for his older brother, Karl said that he wasn't absolutely sure that Keith was as straight as he appeared to be.  That's when I came up with the excuse to visit the campus.

Now, I just felt that I had to tell someone about the experience, and my good friend Karl, who had been openly gay for as long as I've known him was really the only one I could talk to about it.

I bounded up the stairs and into Karl's bedroom, where I came to a complete stop.  Karl had a guest, someone I didn't recognize.  He obviously didn't go to our school or I would have noticed this guy--for sure.

"Hey Alex," Karl greeted me.  "This is Rod.  We met in Youth Group."

I almost laughed as I instantly thought that this guy's name was ideal for a gay porn star, a star in a movie that I would love to see.  I tried to place what Karl meant by the group, and then I remembered that he was active in some sort of gay youth group to provide support or something to gay guys and girls in the region.  Karl had tried to get me to go with him to meetings.

Rod put out his hand, but he didn't stand from the beanbag chair in which he sat.  I shook it, noticing the firm grip of his warm, soft hands.

"I hear you and Keith had a good weekend," Karl said with a wink.

I shot a quick glance at Rod, feeling myself getting embarrassed before remembering that this guy must be gay, too.

"Did you call Keith?" I asked Karl.

"No.  He called me.  He figured I should hear it from my brother first," Karl had a huge grin as he spoke.

"But he told me not to tell you any details," I said, surprised that Keith had called his younger brother to spill the beans.

"Oh, he didn't tell me the juicy stuff.  In fact, the main reason he called was to make me promise not to try to pump you for information," Karl explained.

"Listen, guys," Rod spoke, rising from the chair and looking even more magnificent as he did.  "I've got to get up early for work.  I'm heading home.  I'll let you two gossip by yourselves, even though I would love to hear the juicy tidbits."

Rod gave me a very obvious top to bottom inspection as he said that.

We said our good byes, Rod hugged Karl and left.

"Is Rod one of your secret boyfriends?" I asked feeling a little lustful envy.

"No way," Karl replied.  "I guess you could say we're more like girlfriends than anything.  He's just started to come out, and I'm sort of his sounding board.  What do you think?"

"I'd rate him about eleven on a ten point scale," I said grinning.

"Yeah, he's a pretty popular addition to our little community, but I want to hear how you led my big brother astray."

"I promised Keith that I would be discreet, but I will tell you that he is just as hot as I spent the last six years imagining he would be," I revealed.

"Yeah, I don't think I want to hear too many intimate details about my own brother anyway.  So should I try to protect you from the temptations of Rod?" he asked playfully.

"Keith said that we should just see where things stand when I get to college next year.  Besides, he seems to have someone to keep him occupied while he's away," I said with a touch of regret.

"Whoa!  No shit?  My formerly straight big bro already has a little boy-toy?"

"More like a big old man toy," I explained.

"How old?" Karl asked, obviously intrigued by this news.

"Well, I don't know exactly, but he looks like he's at least twenty-five," I replied.

"Ah, the perfect age to teach Keith what he needs to learn," Karl said taking the situation more lightly that I was.  "How did they meet?"

"I don't know.  He didn't say.  He's a grad student and teaches some engineering courses or something.  I've got no idea how they met."

"Keith probably put up a flyer on some bulletin board on campus.  'Wanted: Tutor with big cock who knows how to use it,'" Karl laughed at his own joke, but I didn't think it was so funny.

"So what's the deal with this Rod guy?" I asked, desperate to change the subject away from Keith's love life.

"Well, everything we talk about at group is confidential, but I can tell you that he's a good guy and a jock like you," he replied.  "You want his phone number?"

"Maybe," I admitted.

"Well, I'll have to check with him first.  I'll call him after he gets off work tomorrow to see if I can give it to you."

"Couldn't you check with him, now?" I asked.

"Are you that horny already?" Karl teased.  "I mean you just left my brother six hours ago."

The next night Karl called to give me Rod's number.  He also told me that, since Rod was just barely coming out, Rod wanted me to be as discreet as possible.  That was okay with me.  Rod and I seemed to be at about the same stage in that regard.

I called Rod immediately.  Our conversation flowed so well that we talked for over three hours without realizing it.  When I hung up I thought I knew him as well as I did some friends that I have known for three years or more.

We met for coffee the next day and talked about everything.  I was amazed that we had so much left to say after our marathon phone call from the night before.  

We spent much of the time talking about his bizarre family life.  At least it was quite different from mine, even if not everyone would think of it as all that bizarre.  His dad worked for some American company in Iraq.  Rod said that he was sure his dad had just taken the job to escape Rod's mother, who he described as a domineering religious fanatic.

Rod's mom belonged to a fundamentalist church, and was active in practically all of the church's activities.  She sang in the choir, taught Sunday School, led a marriage preparation group for young couples, participated in three different bible study groups a week and served as an associate deacon, the highest rank in the church that a woman was allowed to hold.

Rod attended church with her on Sunday mornings only because she insisted that it would look bad if he didn't.  She had used the same argument to get Rod's dad to go with her.  The approach stopped working with him about two years before he left for Iraq.  Apparently, it had turned into quite a screaming match the first time Rod's dad refused to attend services.  Rod's mother actually gave his dad a black eye.

The biggest shock for me in this story was that Rod went to a school that was run by the church.  Like me, he was a senior and, coincidentally, the football team's starting quarterback.  He said that he envied me for going to a public school--or, as he put it, a "normal school."

Two nights later Rod called me to ask if I wanted to go bowling.  Obviously, I said that I did.  He said that he'd pick me up this time.

It had been quite a while since I had bowled, but Rod was quite skilled.  My best score out of the three games we played was 142.  He praised me heavily for that one, which was rather typical behavior for him.   Even Rod couldn't find anything good to say about my next two games, though.  I didn't even come close to a hundred on those, although, if we had been playing golf instead, the scores would have been PGA caliber.

Afterwards, we sat at a table and slowly sipped a couple of sodas.  Rod admitted that he wanted to delay going home for as long as possible.  His mother had invited a former friend of Rod's to stay with them for a couple weeks while that guy's parents were on some sort of second honeymoon or something.

According to Rod, she had gotten her grips on this guy a couple years before, about the same time that Rod's dad stopped going to church.  It started with a simple invitation to go to church but had quickly escalated to a full scale, "praise the lord" conversion for the boy.  Rod laughingly said that you could starve to death whenever it was that guy's turn to say grace before dinner.

Anyway, as this guy, Rich, started spending more and more time at the church, their friendship had sort of fallen by the wayside.  Rich became increasingly critical of Rod, sounding a lot more like his intolerant mother than his friend.

Rod had foolishly come out to Rich one night when Rod was feeling particularly confused.  Ever since, Rich had been wanting to pray with Rod to get rid of the devil or, alternatively, cursing him and threatening to tell Rod's mom.

Throughout this conversation I found myself feeling more and more thankful for my own parents.  They were the first people that I told that I thought I was gay about two months before.  While I can't claim that they were elated, they at least accepted the facts and reassured me of their love for me.  It actually had gotten better every day.

We finally decided to call it a night.  On the way to my house, Rod rested his hand on my thigh.  I placed mine on top of his.  I felt myself getting aroused by just that little contact.  I knew that I was starting to feel something for this guy, something that went beyond the basic eighteen year old state of constant lust.

Rod stopped the car before he turned the last corner to my house.  He put it in park and turned off the engine.  I thought for a moment that he had gotten confused about my address.

Then he released his seat belt and leaned toward me.  His intention was clear in his eyes.

I matched his movement and met his lips for our first kiss.  Whatever arousal that I had felt from his touch was nothing compared to what I experienced when our lips met.

I fumbled to get out of my seatbelt, scooted in his direction and leaned back against my door with his upper weight on me.  We accomplished all of that without ever breaking contact.

I felt his hand tracing my thigh and tugging at my belt.  He was getting nowhere, so I broke the kiss just long enough to help him with that task.

He needed no help with my button or zipper, as my shorts parted in a V pattern granting him access to his target.  He reached through the fly on my boxers and retrieved his prize.

Just before he lowered his mouth onto my leaking cock, he said something.  I didn't catch what he said, but I didn't want to delay him by asking what I had missed.

His technique was out-fucking-standing.  What Rod lacked in experience he made up for with desire.  I shot into his mouth before I even realized that I was close.  He moaned his thanks for my contribution to his diet.

We met in another wonderful kiss before he expertly put me back together again.  I reached for his belt.

"My turn," I said.

"Not tonight," he said.  "I want this night to be about that experience.  I don't want it muddled with any other memories.  You were my first, you know."

"I know.  I'm honored," I replied not able to adequately express how honored I truly did feel.

I gave one more shot at his belt.

"Next time," he promised as he started the car for the remaining short drive to my house.

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