The following is fiction. It contains some scenes involving gay sex. If reading such material is against the law, please do not read this story.
I have been enormously gratified by my readers’ response to my first two stories, 8th Grade and Prom. Your comments to me have been exceedingly generous and deeply appreciated.
I have had several requests asking for the location of my two previous stories. They can be found as follows:
8th Grade: Nifty Archives, Gay Male, Young Friends, April 1, 2005
Prom: Nifty Archives, Gay Male, High School, May 15, 2005
What explicit sex is included in this story is intended to further the story; I do not write gratuitous sex scenes. The story is not principally about sex, and if your interest lies principally in reading about sexual activity, you will find this story disappointing and uninteresting in the extreme.
Those of you that have read my first two stories know that I like writing romantic tales of young teens learning who they are. This story has a somewhat darker and more troubling theme, and may have a message that is objectionable to some. I think the majority of you will enjoy it, but I’ve been known to be wrong in the past. Please be forewarned.
This story is copyrighted by the author. His permission must be secured before any copying or use of this story is permitted.
I love hearing from readers. It’s the reward I get for writing these stories. Any comments will reach me at email@example.com
T I M
When we got out into the gym, Coach Mahoney gathered us into a group and called the roll. When that was done, he told us we were going to play volleyball. There were four nets set up across the gym and there were going to be eight teams with 8 players on a team. There were 65 kids, so one team would have 9 players. Coach explained the rules to us, then looked at his roll sheet and told the following kids to step forward, then called out 8 names. Those kids were then told to take turns picking teammates.
The kids chosen were at random, and while a couple of them were kids accustomed to being in the limelight, the other six weren’t and you could tell picking other kids wasn’t something that came naturally to them. What I liked, however, was one of the kids chosen pick kids for the teams was Jed. I liked that because I was pretty sure I wouldn’t end up being picked last, or nearly last, as usual. And indeed I wasn’t. He picked me second, after a kid named Randy Meyers, a really good athlete.
The picking of teams went really quickly because the coach wasn’t one to let the guys doing the picking fuss over their choices. He wanted this done quickly so the games could start, and so if someone paused, the coach made the selection for him, just pointing to some kid and saying, “You, over here.”
Rather quickly, we had eight teams and got started. On both teams, the problem of playing together was quickly apparent. The bigger or better kids immediately started trying to hit all the balls, sometimes actually bumping other kids away that were in better position to hit the ball so they could take them. And this wasn’t working because, even if these were big and good players, they usually weren’t getting into the proper position quickly enough and so were fumbling half their hits.
I’m not much of an athlete, but I do have a confident manner and cocksure attitude and it was pissing me off, how we were playing. I finally called time and called all our team together. I was the shortest kid on our team, but I called everyone together, and they assembled around me like it was an everyday occurrence. Funny how attitude works.
“Hey guys,” I said, “look, this isn’t working. We’re all out of position and falling all over the place. Why don’t we try just maintaining our position, only play the balls that are our own, and don’t try to hog everything? Randy’s our best player, so if we can have the guy the ball is hit to hit it towards Randy, then either he can hit it over the net or, he can set someone else up for a winner. If we work together instead of just all trying to do everything all by ourselves, it’ll work better. Let’s try it at least.”
I’m not sure why they listened to me. It could have been because they were as frustrated as I was the way the game was going, or maybe they recognized they needed some sort of leadership, or maybe there was just something in the way I was handling myself, but whatever it was, these kids all knew me and I guess they respected me enough to listen. They not only listened, they did what I suggested, and when we started playing again, everyone started to only play his own position and work the ball when he hit it, and not surprisingly, we started doing much better.
I found I was at least average in controlling the ball when it was hit to me, and I did like the others were now doing, hitting the ball to a teammate closer to the net or Randy, and I found I was having fun. We were now functioning like a team instead of 8 individuals all getting in each others’ way and it was amazing how much better that worked. The team across the net from us continued not to have any organization at all. Their bigger kids kept trying to monopolize play and in doing so kept bumping into their own teammates and having to hit awkward shots. They started yelling at each other, and finally Coach Mahoney had to talk to a couple of them.
Our team members were all smiling at each other and encouraging each other, and it was fun.
When the game stopped due to the coach chewing on a couple of the guys on the other team, I took a chance to look around the gym. I knew most everyone there, only new kids being strangers and there weren’t many of those. A lot of the boys, however, I hadn’t seen over the summer, and at that age, a lot of growing is going on, so I was seeing the kids I’d gone to school with last year who now were bigger. And some of them, cuter. I looked around, picking out cute boys, as I’d been doing for years, and noticed four or five that really struck me as attractive. One in particular, Billy Cameron, I had always liked looking at, and over the summer he’d become even better looking. He had very yellow blond hair that was long and soft-looking, cut in style that had some layers and body and surrounded his face. He had a good build, strikingly handsome features, a ready smile and dark blue, mischievous eyes. I could look at Billy Cameron all day.
Coach Mahoney’s whistle brought me out of my reverie. “Ten more minutes, guys, then hit the showers,” he yelled out, and then we were back at our game. Even after the ass-chewing, the other team didn’t play like one and we did, and so it continued to be a rout, which we entirely enjoyed.
Another whistle announced the end of the game. We all yelled and high-fived each other, grins on all faces. I was surprised when Randy came up to me and clapped me on the back. “Great move, Tim,” he said. “You taking charge out there made us a team.” He smiled at me, then several of the other guys made complimentary comments as they began leaving the court.
That made me proud, things being said like that by all these guys, and especially from a popular guy like Randy. I thanked them all. I’d been so busy playing I hadn’t given a thought to showers, but now, as we all trouped towards the locker room, the awareness came back in a rush.
I made my way to my locker. I was removing my shoes when Jed arrived. He was talking to a kid who’d been on another team. “How’d you guys do?” he asked him.
“We sucked big time. Joe and Evan tried to hog all the balls. How ’bout you?”
“Kicked ass and took names, after Tim got us organized. It was great.”
By then, my shoes and socks and shirt were all off. This was the moment I’d been thinking about since Coach told us the shower procedure yesterday. My imagination made it too clear: after getting undressed, we had to walk naked to the shower. We only got the towel after we showered, so we had to walk from the locker to the shower in the altogether. I stood up at my locker, then waited till Jed was ready. When we’d both reached the point of no return, I slipped down my shorts and jock, he did the same, and then we were walking together toward the showers.
The room was full of naked boys. It was something, looking at them. No one had a towel, no one had anything to cover himself with. But more amazing than the sight of all those naked boys was the fact that most of us didn’t know what to do with our eyes. We all wanted to look at all those naked bodies, all those round, tight butts and hanging dicks and nuts, we all wanted to see what everyone else looked like and how we compared, but knew other boys were watching us, watching our eyes, and we were all afraid to look down. The only way we could do that was quickly and casually and surreptitiously; certainly no one could stare, could make it known he was checking anyone out. I for one would have loved to have looked but didn’t have the guts. It was sort of like being in a candy store and wearing mittens.
The setting, the problem keeping my eyes up instead of letting them roam to illicit places, the nervousness, all contributed to not having a problem of getting excited where I didn’t want to. Jed and I joined the crowd and reached the showers, on the way passing by Mr. Mahoney, whose presence helped keep a damper on any monkey business or wayward remarks. The shower was a large tiled, steamy room with showerheads on opposite walls, probably twenty to a wall. This meant about a third of us had to wait, but some boys were slower getting there, maybe on purpose because they were reluctant to start that naked walk with so many other boys, some took really quick showers, and so there weren’t a lot of boys waiting. There were a lot of nervous boys, however, and I found myself enjoying watching them squirm.
Some of them covered themselves with their hands, some were blushing, a few giggled, and almost none of them looked down at anything but themselves. Jed and I got showers without waiting. Being next to him calmed me, gave me a feeling of reassurance, and maybe I did the same for him, too. We both took showers long enough to soap ourselves and rinse off, and neither of us got hard.
Billy Cameron wasn’t that lucky. He was in a small bunch waiting for a showerhead to come open, and I was glancing at him as I’d been doing for three years. My eyes found him in a crowd with no trouble at all. The only trouble was keeping it so no one noticed me looking at him. This time, when I found him, he was having a problem. He had his hands over his boy parts, both together, and he was blushing. His eyes were big. The boy standing next to him looked down, and a big grin appeared on his face.
Jody Hobart was one of the boys who fit the description the coach had rattled off yesterday, not too bright and a little primitive. He was a farm boy, one of the kids who didn’t live in town, and was big, strong, and on the edge of failing all his classes every year. He wasn’t mean or unlikable at all, but a little rough around the edges. Now, he was looking down at Billy’s discomfort and starting to grin. Big time.
Something about the way Jody moved must have taken Billy’s attention away from his growing problem for a second, because Billy looked at Jody, and horror appeared in his eyes. I could immediately tell, Billy knew Jody was going to say something, and probably loudly so everyone could hear.
Billy and Jody were only a few feet away from me. Without any more thought, I quickly stepped over to them, and before the thought that had slowly formed in Jody’s mind could make it’s way to his lips, I said to him, “Jody, remember what the coach said yesterday? Any sort of personal remarks, you’re running laps till Christmas. I’d be real cautious here. I’d also think about hurting someone’s feelings. I know you wouldn’t want to do that.”
Jody’s expression changed from glee to confusion to understanding and then even to compasssion. He looked at Billy and said, “Sorry, Billy.” Then he saw my open showerhead and walked to it, leaving me alone with Billy.
Billy was looking at me with something like awe in his eyes. “Tim, thanks,” he said to me, a little breathlessly, and then blushed deeply. “I think you just saved my life there.”
He still had his hands in front of his privates, privates I’d dearly love to get a look at, but I didn’t dare look down. But, with that thought, it suddenly occurred to me I was standing next to a naked, a naked and probably erect, Billy Cameron, the boy I’d been sighing over and dreaming about for the past three years! And, was naked, too.
We were in the shower doorway, next to the table with the towels on it. I quickly grabbed one, hoping I wasn’t being too obvious but not caring too much if I was, the urgent, no, immediate, need to get covered wiping out any and all other extraneous considerations.
Once I was safely wrapped, I turned back to Billy and said, “That’s OK, Billy, and don’t worry about it. It happens to all of us. I’m just glad I was able to help. I was just in the right time and the right place, that’s all.”
“Still, you did help instead of just let him say something. I appreciate it, Tim.” He was looking at me with eyes filled with thanks, and I was getting very uncomfortable, meaning, I was well on the way to being very hard, and the towel was starting to make that obvious. So, I just smiled at him, waved, and walked back to my locker, grabbing a second towel as I passed the table and draping that one casually in front of me as I walked.
I sat down, then wondered how I was going to get dressed. Sometimes my boners lasted an hour or more, and the situation here, with young naked boys wandering around and me already being excited, wasn’t going to provide any relief. This was going to be difficult.
At that point Jed walked up, his towel around his middle. “Hey, what was all that with Billy?” he asked.
“He looked like he was springing a hard-on and Jody was going to say something, so I sort of stopped him.”
“Really?!! Did you see it? How big is he? What did it look like?”
“No, he was covering it and I couldn’t really look down at it. But, watching both of them, I knew what was happening. But Jed, now I have a problem.” I pointed to my crotch, moved the second towel, and he could see the one wrapped around me pressed up in the middle.
“Oops! Yes you do! What are you going to do?”
“That’s what I was wondering. Maybe if you sort of shield me, I can get my boxers on. OK?”
He nodded. I dried myself sitting down, then stood up and half faced his locker. He moved closer to me, his towel hanging from his hand. I stepped into my boxers lying on the floor before dropping the towel, then did that and quickly yanked up the underwear. Casually glancing around afterward, I didn’t see anyone looking my way. I grinned at Jed, and thanked him.
home that night, Dad asked how the day had gone. I
told Dad a lot, but some things, I just didn’t. Some
things were personal. Like sex things.
I told him we had to take showers after gym
and he wanted details
about that, but the details I told him were far different from the ones
sure he’d have liked me to tell him. I
don’t care how tight you are with your dad, you don’t talk about boys
are cute and have been perving on for several years getting boners and
doing the same yourself thinking about him and his boner.
As the days and weeks went by, seeing other naked boys in the locker room and showers became routine. It was still exciting, but something that was now just an every day occurrence, and you went with it. I’d learned how to look at the other boys without them knowing, or at least without them or anyone else saying anything. We were all a little less intimidated by Coach Mahoney by now, so some personal remarks were slipping out, but they weren’t out loud where everyone could hear and there wasn’t any outright, vicious bullying in the locker room, for which I, one of the smallest kids there all over, was very grateful. While it was quite possible people thought about my underdevelopment, maybe even spoke to each other about it as Jed and I discussed the size and shape and specifics of a lot of the boys when we were alone together, I wasn’t ever put in the position of defending myself or being embarrassed in the locker room, and my natural cocky, assertive nature continued to define my personality.
At home, Mom and Shawn continued their church attendance and activities. Shawn was in a youth group, Mom was now an important figure and had become an assistant of sorts to Reverend Elliston. She was spending more and more time at church, less and less at home. When she was home, she was a little different from the mom I’d grown up with. Many of her thoughts now seemed to have religious overtones accompanying them. She talked a lot about sin, about salvation, and Jesus was mentioned frequently. Dad tended to get a sour look on his face sometimes when she got started. I didn’t see them talking to each other about personal stuff as much, and overall, Dad didn’t seem as happy as he’d been in the past.
Shawn was at the church a lot. He’d take part in all the youth activities and it seemed to me he was there even when those kinds of activities weren’t scheduled. I knew that some kids liked to play basketball in the church parking lot, so figured maybe that was the reason. We really didn’t talk to each other much at all anymore. He just seemed to look through me, and sometimes didn’t even answer when I asked him something. When we were younger we were more like typical brothers, fighting and playing and being family. Now, he was pensive, a little withdrawn, and ignored me. Weird. I got used to it and didn’t bother much with him any more. A three year age difference when you’re just entering your teens, as I was, and you’re entangled fully in high school, as he was, makes for a lot of separation.
And I wasn’t the only one with sibling problems. Jed’s sister, Missy, was much more of a thorn in Jed’s side than Shawn was to me. Shawn simply ignored my existence. Missy took great delight in making Jed’s life a living hell. She was a bitch of the first order, she knew how to get under his skin, and unfortunately, Mrs. Tuckman didn’t seem to see anything wrong with having a ratfink squealer living in the house with them. Anything Jed did that might be construed to be wrong in any way, anything he said that someone could find fault with, was promptly reported by his sister to his mother. As a result, Jed was frequently in trouble, and we didn’t have as many sleep-overs as I’d have liked as a result.
One of the problems was, Missy was a bitch, but she was a clever, devious and nasty bitch and unfortunately, a fair degree smarter than Jed. And she liked getting him in trouble. At least Shawn didn’t do that with me. Jed and I spent some time every week talking about Missy, what grief she’d caused him this week, and what could be done about it. The trouble was, she was a couple years older than we were, her mother thought her faultless, and we weren’t able to come up with anything that seemed suitable revenge for all the misery she caused Jed.
It was the next year, when we were all a year older, that an event occurred that I think of as the beginning of our problems. I was now 13. That’s a pretty lusty year for a boy. By now, I was in puberty, had some hair at long last where I was expected to have it, was starting not to look like a 5 year old down there any longer, and now was so mature that I no longer was even excited by being in the locker room. Well, OK, that’s not really true. I must admit, I still liked being there, liked looking at everyone in my own sly way, but the excitement and fear and anticipation that I experienced during the first year had mostly evaporated with the daily routine of the event. I was still short, no growth spurt for me yet, if ever, I thought, but I was developing a little musculature. I felt good about myself.
One reason for that was jerking off. I’d just recently started shooting, and man, what a kick that was! Jed had been doing it for some time, having begun puberty long before I did, but better late than never, for me, and I was having a blast. It was a rare day I didn’t practice my new art at least three times, morning, after school and night. I’d look forward to my afternoon session starting in gym, knowing I’d be getting off soon. Wonderful anticipation.
This day had been ordinary in most regards, although I seemed hornier than usual and in gym, thinking ahead, I’d had a hard time controlling my enthusiasm. The occasional woody was sprung in that room, with the usual embarrassment, but it had never happened to me and I didn’t want to start now. I got through gym soft, barely, and eventually was home.
I went quickly to my room, shutting my door as usual and getting rid of my clothes as fast as I could. Some days, I just took in out and stroked, some days I got all the way naked. Today was a naked day: I was horny as hell and wanted to have all the fun I could. I’d been waiting it seemed for hours.
I lay down on my bed and began rubbing myself all over, feeling the skin on my body, letting my mind wander. I thought of Jed, naked. I thought of Billy Cameron, naked. I thought of the three of us together, doing things, wonderful, exciting, dirty things. My arousal was very strong.
I began slowly stroking my erection, then stopping and rubbing something else, like my chest or thighs. Then a few more strokes on my raging hard-on. My eyes were closed, trying to make my thoughts as real as possible. Soon, too soon, I began stroking my member without stopping continually but slowly, slowly, letting the feelings build. My other hand slipped to my testicles, just handling them I pleased my rod.
The feelings of urgency for release began to build. The delicious feeling of building pressure took over. I kept my pace slow and steady, not wanting to rush, wanting to let the build-up be as slow and long as possible.
The end was inevitably nearing, however. The wonderful end, the spontaneous release. I worked for it, worked nearer to it, anticipating, cuddling my balls, stroking faster.
Which was when Shawn walked in.