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 apprciated.
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 as I do not write gratuitous sex scenes. The story is not principally about sex, and if your objective is to read about sexual activity, you will find this story disappointing and uninteresting in the extreme.
This story is copyrighted by the author. All rights are reserved.
I love hearing from readers. It’s the reward I get for writing these stories. Any comments will reach me at firstname.lastname@example.org
T I M
We made dinner together in the kitchen after I called my dad and told him I’d be home late. When we were done and had cleaned up, somehow, without talking about it, we just ended up back on John’s bed. We’d only slipped into our shorts to make dinner, but didn’t bother to take them off now. We’d made out for hours before dinner, and even though we were teenagers and completely refueled, it somehow felt right this way, lying together, skin touching, but not complete naked.
We lay together and talked. We had a lot to talk about.
We talked about school. I asked him what he felt about coming out to everyone. He said he wanted to, he was so happy and proud he didn’t want to hide, but was worried about me, because coming out could cause me to have to defend myself, while he wasn’t nearly as much of a physical target in his wheelchair.
We talked about telling our parents. I told him my father and I talked about everything and that the two of them would like each other and Dad would be totally accepting of our relationship. John looked a little skeptical, but I told him just to trust me, and wait and see for himself.
The difficult thing we talked about was John’s parents.
While he said his mom wouldn’t have any problems with us being together, he just didn’t know about his dad. He said he father was so disappointed his son wasn’t a big athlete and hadn’t been able to do things growing up other kids did with their dads, like playing touch football and wrestling and playing tennis and all sorts of stuff like that, the two of them weren’t real close. They didn’t talk about personal stuff, that his dad got uncomfortable if John would talk about any problem he had due to his condition. He knew he was a disappointment to his dad, and this might just be another disappointment for him. Maybe a big one.
We talked about Terry. We both agreed he’d be happy for us, and he was the first one we were going to tell that we were together. We both felt Terry was very, very special.
We talked about a lot of things, personal things, remembered things, feelings, like and dislikes, all sort of things.
The talking lasted for hours. We lay on his bed, touching each other, occasionally kissing, sometimes caressing, but mostly just talking and being together. I told him about my childhood, what my family had been like, about my parents, about stuff I’d kept hidden. I felt incredibly free, able to say whatever I wanted to without having to think about what I needed to hold back. He talked about the problems he’d had with his condition, how angry he used to get, how it felt not being able to do the things other kids could. He told me how amazed he was I just seemed to ignore his condition.
We got to know each other. Funny how if you have deep feelings for someone, learning about them can feel so good, so right. It feels like they’re becoming part of you, and they mesh with you perfectly. Every new thing you learn is so neat and makes the other person so much better. More real, more human, more loveable. Especially when you realize he’s feeling the same thing as he learns about you.
We were talking about what things John had most resented about being in his wheelchair at school, and I’d begun making the odd sarcastic remark, prodding him with the occasional tease, and while doing it thinking how exceptional it felt doing so, when for about the third time in the last hour, he got a bemused expression on his face and stopped talking. I asked him what the matter was.
“Tim, “I’m just noticing something, and it seems strange.”
“Well, remember when we met? Up until today, every time we met, you were sort of quiet and reserved. You didn’t say much, you volunteered almost nothing, and you did a lot of thinking. You were sort of withdrawn.”
“Yeah, I guess that’s true. I was hiding myself, and it’s hard to do that if you’re talking a lot. I guess I learned to keep things in. That’s one reason I feel so incredible talking to you like I am now. But what’s that got to do with anything? What’s strange?”
“It seems strange because for the past hour or so, you’ve been different. You’re teasing me and kidding me and making jokes, making me laugh. You’re challenging me about things. You just weren’t like that before. It’s like your personality is changing. What’s going on?”
I thought about it, and realized what he was saying was true. And then I thought about how I was feeling, how this pressure I’d been living with for months, this need to keep everything inside of me, to keep myself hidden in the shadows, to restrain my personality, that pressure was gone. I felt free. And with that freedom, my old personality, the slight cocky, slightly irreverent, sort of wise-ass, happy-go-lucky, sassy me was re-emerging. And that made me excited. I was starting to feel like me again. It’d been so long.
And with this realization, I couldn’t help feeling a moment of fear. “John, what you’re seeing now is the real me. Not the one that was hiding. But you fell in love with the scared me, the timid me. That’s not really who I am. It’s who I was for a while, but I think he’s gone. Do you think you’ll be able to like this me? This is really who I am, and I don’t what to be that other guy any more.”
John looked at me, then paused, and appeared to be thinking deeply. Finally he said, “Gee, I don’t know, Tim. I sort of liked that other guy. Maybe we better re-think this whole thing.”
I reacted. I reached over and began tickling him. I don’t know why that occurred to me, but his statement was so apparently false, I figured if he could tease me, I could tickle him back.
I was gentle, as I now was instinctively with John, but I was still determined, and he was quickly laughing uncontrollably, and squirming around trying to protect himself.
“Take it back John, take it back, or this will go on forever,” I said, tickling his pits and his sides and anything else I could get to through his rapidly moving screen of knees and elbows and arms and legs.
“OK, OK, quit it,” he screamed, and I did. “OK, I’ll take it back. Although that meek little guy that ran away all the time never would have attacked me like that. I think I liked him better.”
“Well, I’m hoping he’s gone forever. You’ll just have to get used to me.” And I kissed him. The kiss turned from playful to deep and passionate.
Lights flashing over his bedroom window cautioned us John’s parents were home. While they were parking the car in the garage, we were quickly dressing, and when they came in and his mom came to his room to check on him, the door was open, the bed smooth and innocent looking and we were playing a video game.
“Hi, Tim! Nice to see you again! Hi, honey, is everything OK? Did you boys get some dinner?”
“Yes Mom, we ate, thanks. Hey, is it all right if Tim stays over? We lost track of the time. Is that OK?”
“Of course, if his parents are all right with it.” Her face lit up in a broad smile. It seemed she was very happy at the idea of someone spending the night at John’s. I decided John was right that she had concerns about him.
“OK, I’ll call,” I said, and did. My dad was very pleased I was doing this, too. He hated me being as reclusive as I’d been. He remembered how I used to be. Back when I’d been happy.
I got to meet John’s father, and I liked him. He was pleasant and friendly and seemed very nice. I thought about that when I had the chance. I began to wonder if maybe John’s problem with his father might not be quite what he thought it was. Could it be that John felt guilt about not being able to do the things that he only thought his father wanted him to be able to do? Was it possible John was projecting his own feelings about his disability onto his father? I knew I’d be spending a lot of time with John. I’d probably get to see this relationship first hand. Maybe I could help John and his father get closer. I thought perhaps this was something I could approach his mom with. It would be interesting to see what she felt about it.
Spending the night with John was great. When he shut the door, he very quietly locked it, then slipped out of his briefs. I got to see him standing nude before me in the room before he turned out the light. I’d seen him that way all afternoon, but it still was a thrill. It still made me hard.
I’d thought maybe we’d just go to sleep, but sharing sex with another boy was still absolutely new to John and he was insatiable. Not that I objected. I was as ready and eager as he was. We didn’t get to sleep till very late, and we were both exhausted by then. We slept till after noon.
=========== ============= ===========Sunday, after having breakfast at 1 PM and not feeling guilty about it, what with Mrs. Bauer making us waffles and eggs and chattering like I was her best friend and so happy to have me there, and Mr. Bauer asking questions, but not intrusive ones so I didn't feel a bit like I was being grilled, and John being sarcastic and sharp and me laughing at him and rolling my eyes along with his parents at him, I went with him to his bedroom and asked him something.
I feel like bursting. I’m so happy,
your parents are neat, I want to tell them, but we agreed you’d talk to
mother. But I feel this great need to
talk to people, tell them how happy I am.
I’ve got an idea. The two people
we’re going to tell, Terry and my dad, I want to do it all at once.
I can’t wait. How’s
about we grab Terry, go to my house, and tell them
John looked at me, and started to look a little worried. “I’ve never met your father, Tim. He’s going to see this kid in a wheelchair, you’re going to tell him we’re boyfriends, and I don’t know what’ll happen. I trust you and all, but still. . . .”
“John, trust me a little more. This will work. I told you. I’m feel like jumping up and down, like you feel at Chrismas when you’re six. I want to do this. Please, John? Pleeeeeease?”
He looked at me, and started to look disgusted, a mock disgusted, but disgusted just the same. So I made my hands into claws, started wiggling my fingers, and slowly advancing on him. He got a look of shock on his face, yelled, “No, not the tickle machine,” started laughing, and gave in completely.
I called Terry. He was done with church and so curious he couldn’t contain himself. I told him to meet us at my house at 2 o’clock. And that I was going to call my father and have him pick us and my bike up, and he could ride in the back of the truck if he wanted to. He said, rather sniffily I thought, that he’d make other arrangements.
At two, we were all sitting in my living room. Dad and Terry were in upholstered chairs, and John and I were on the couch. I’d introduced John and Dad when he’d driven over to pick us up.
Terry and Dad were looking at me. I was too content and amazingly happy to feel nervous. I imagined I looked like the cat that had stolen the cream. I just started talking.
“Dad, Terry, we have some things to say. First, John and I are boyfriends. It’s actually a little more than that. We love each other, more than I can say in words.”
Dad looked a little surprised. Terry said, “Yes!,” and pumped his fist in the air. Then he jumped out of his chair and came over and hugged John, a really affectionate hug that lasted a bit, and then did the same with me. I was probably imagining it, but his eyes looked a little moist to me. I guess one hug wasn’t enough for him, because he hugged John again. They’d been friends for a long time. The depth of Terry’s feelings for John were apparent.
I had a lot more to say, and after Terry had high-fived both of us and returned to his seat, I continued.
“Dad, you’ve been telling me all the problems we had back in Lakeshore weren’t my fault. Terry, you told me the same thing. Then, John did. Well, I must be stubborn, because I wasn’t listening to any of you, but it’s finally dawned on me that you guys are right. It’s finally sunk in. John made me realize that I’d been upset more than anything else by Mom rejecting me. I was so upset by it that I refused to face it. When I did, when he made me, I realized that she didn’t hate me, that she had personal problems that didn’t have anything to do with me. I thought about it, and it just came clear to me. He was right, you guys were all right. I didn’t do anything to cause her problems. None of it was my fault. I’m gay, but I didn’t cause the problems. It’s taken me far too long to understand that, but now I do. It’s still in the process of sinking in, but I feel so good I want to shout out loud. And it’s because off all you guys in this room. I owe you guys everything. I love you guys.”
That’s when Dad, who did have tears in his eyes, came over and hugged me. He hugged me hard, and long, and said to me, very softly, “I love you so much, Tim,” before releasing me. Then, instead of going back and sitting down again, he stood in front of John and said, “John, please stand up.”
Looking a little uncertain, John stood. Dad put his arms around him and started to hug, and I quickly said, “Dad! Be gentle!”
I’d told him about John’s problem when we’d put his wheelchair in the back of the truck, but John didn’t look in any way disabled, and I was afraid Dad would have forgotten. He hadn’t. The hug he gave John was much tenderer than mine had been. Mine had been hard and firm and came from over a year of worry. John’s was loving and soft and kind.
“John, you’re more than welcome here. I want to see you here a lot. Looking at Tim, he looks just like he used to look. There’s a life in him this morning that’s been missing for so long. His face is glowing again. He’s happy! There’s been a cloud over him for a long time. I think you’ve had a lot to do with getting rid of that. Thanks for helping me get my son back, John.”
John looked a little shocked, but then got a huge smile on this face, and he returned my father’s hug. It looked to me like he held on longer than he needed to. I think he liked the affection he was receiving. Maybe he was also feeling some relief that my father could act like that after finding out he was my boyfriend.
When everyone was seated again, I turned to Terry. “Terry, you’ve been the best friend I could ever have. You’ve been more than a friend. You saw a kid that needed a helping hand, and gave him your whole arm. John tells me that’s the way you always are. You’re incredible, and even if I ever stop telling you that, please believe me, I’ll never stop thinking and feeling it.”
John piped up. “Me too, Terry. We both feel that way.”
Terry blushed. “Hey guys,” he sputtered, “you know I hate that mushy stuff. Cut it out.”
My father spoke up at that point. “That goes for me, too, Terry. If there’s ever anything you need, any kind of help, don’t feel the least bit shy coming to me. Please. It would be an honor to help you.”
After that, I let the other guys talk. There were lots of questions for John and me, about how we’d told each other we liked one another, when we’d known, that sort of thing. I wasn’t embarrassed and neither was John. We kept getting congratulated, and it was a wonderful feeling, being surround by two people who loved and supported us. It was a wonderful afternoon.
============== ================ ===========
Monday, I was eating lunch with John when Terry showed up. Much to my surprise, he was ushering in a very hesitant, resisting and embarrassed Eliot Barrenger.
“Hey guys, can we join you?” Terry asked as he was pulling chairs out from the table.
This was strange. I looked at John and he looked at me, and neither of us said a word.
Terry was smiling and happy. Eliot looked nervous and uncertain. I wondered why he’d agree to come. I was going to say something to calm him, then realized in all the times I’d eaten with him, we’d never spoke at all, with the exception of a few words on the first day when he’d been trying to get rid of me. Thinking of that, I decided I could do a lot better than he had.
“Hey Eliot. I’m glad you can join us. And I want to say something. The other day you looked over at us and we laughed. I want to tell you, we weren’t laughing at you, even if it did look that way. We weren’t.”
“Yeah, Terry told me that.” He sound gruff, but then, he spoke so little, maybe his voice box was rusty.
John spoke up. Which worried me, because John was usually sarcastic and confrontational. I loved it when he was that way with me, it allowed me to be the same back to him. I didn’t know how Eliot would react, however.
“Hey, man, welcome. Except for the tall dude with us, this could be the outcast table now. We could have our own club.”
Being John, he didn’t crack a smile. He always left it up to the person he was talking to to decide if he was trying to be funny or not.
Eliot looked at him for a second, then said, “I don’t see any outcasts here. Just four independent people who don’t mind being individuals.”
My mouth fell open. I couldn’t help myself. “Eliot! You spoke! You said something! Way to go, Bro.” I reached up, offering a high-five to him.
He looked at my hand, then very tentatively, slowly, reached up and softly slapped it. A sort of half smile crossed his lips. “I never did that before,” he said softly. “Always wanted to. It always looked kinda neat.”
He looked down in embarrassment. I thought I’d give him some space. He’d already said more than I’d every heard him say. I turned to Terry and raised my eyebrows.
He looked only the slightest bit uncomfortable. Then he said, “Well, I needed another project.”
I looked at John. He looked at me. Somehow, for some reason, we both looked at Terry at exactly the same time and said, in unison, “St. Terry!” And then burst into spontaneous laughter.
A few days later, I bumped into Terry in the hall while I was hurrying to my History class. Something was bothering me.
“Terry, when is your Citizenship report due, the one I’m supposed to be answering questions for, you know, the one I’m helping you with, when’s it due, anyway?”
Terry blushed. That was odd. Terry never blushed. The most self-confident guy, the guy that had it all together more than anyone I knew, was embarrassed! What was going on here?
He looked very sheepish. “Tim, I handed in my paper a week ago.”
“Well, it was due, what was I supposed to do?”
“But, but, how could you do that?! You hadn’t even finished talking to me at that point!”
“Oh, I made something up. I used you as the subject, you’re new, the teacher didn’t know you from Adam, so I just made up a lot of crap. I got an A,” he said proudly.
“Terry! You put me through hell! Every question you asked me hurt! I struggled answering each one, sweated through it. How could you do that!”
"I had fun. Didn’t you?”
“Fun?! FUN! I’m going to kick your ass, you dumb shit!”
“Oh, kinky sex! I love it! S&M! With a gay guy! Let’s get it on, dude!”
I looked at him. He had a huge grin on his face. I thought about what to say, then, slowly, a smile formed on my face. I looked at him with pseudo-arrogance in my eyes and said, haughtily and with great disdain, “Sorry, man, no S&M for me. I’m taken.”
And then I really did smile. He couldn’t, in his wildest dreams, no matter what, possibly know how good it felt, being able to say that, to say that I was already taken. And really, truly mean it.
This brings Tim to a conclusion. I want to express my sincere and heartfelt thanks to those of you who have taken the time to express their enjoyment with my writing. I doubt very much I would be continuing with it without your support.
I will begin submitting a new story to Nifty Archives soon. I am suggesting it be posted in the Adult-Youth section. It will be titled “When He Was Five.” I am proud of all my stories, and am especially pleased with this next one.