This is an original homocentric love story. If you are offended by homosexual relationships, do not read. All characters and situations are fictional and of my own creation. Any resemblance to real situations or people, living or dead, is completely coincidental.
When I woke up this time, my morning wood was resting between Jer's ass cheeks, with my arm draped around him. The alarm clock was getting louder with each passing second, so I reached over and turned it off before returning to my boyfriend.
"What time is it?" Jeremy asked muzzily.
"Six-thirty," I replied, trailing my hand down his belly to his morning hardness, and starting to stroke him.
"Mm... That feels good. But we don't have to get up until seven. Why so early?"
"For this," I told him. As much as I hated losing the feel of his warm cleft on my hardness, I pulled away and urged him to roll onto his back, then swung a leg over, and straddled him. He watched me sleepily, but with interest. I didn't keep him wondering long. I started running my hands softly over him, eliciting a gasp of pleasure from him, and he soon returned the favor; his soft, warm hands gently exploring my body, making me shiver with pleasure from time to time.
I leaned forward and kissed him, running my tongue lightly between his lips, asking entrance, which he promptly granted. After a few minutes of exploring each others' mouths, I pulled gently away, then placed another soft, closed-lip kiss to his lips. I followed his jawline back to his earlobe, nibbling on it and licking behind it, causing my boyfriend to gasp, and move to give me easier access. I laughed to myself, thinking he certainly wasn't sleepy now! I moved down his neck, licking and nibbling, but being careful not to make any visible marks, then down his chest to his right nipple. I licked it, blew on it, then licked again before descending to gently suck on it. He tried to get his whole chest in my mouth.
This was all new territory to me. I was just experimenting with things I'd read in stories on Nifty, and a few other story sites. I was delighted to find out that all that stuff really worked. Of course my ultimate goal was a bit further down, but first I treated his other nipple to the same thing, then kissed it before licking and kissing my way down his ribcage, then over to his navel.
That didn't work out so well. He squirmed quite a bit when I went over his ribs, but he was just too ticklish when my tongue delved into his belly button, so I didn't linger. Instead I moved on down, avoiding his hard, ready cock, to explore where it joined his body, and his still sparse, darker blond bush. I kissed and licked all around the base, then made my way to his ball sac. I nuzzled and licked both of those beautiful jewels before taking first one, then the other in my mouth, laving them with my tongue, and then gently sucking on them. His legs moved wider apart. I nuzzled his balls aside, and treated his perineum, or as much of it as I could reach, to a good tonguing, too. During this, Jer lifted his knees and moved his legs as far apart as he could get them, so I'd have better access. I could smell a faint muskiness; not a dirty smell, but just natural body oils. I reached down and started gently massaging his opening while I worked my way back up.
Jer hadn't been quiet by any means during all of this. In fact he'd been pretty loud from time to time. And by now his breathing was short and fast, and he had started sounding desperate. The variety of sounds he made were a song for me, telling me how much he appreciated what I was doing. His groans, whimpers, encouragements, comments, and short, sharp yells of pleasure made me so horny I almost decided to take him then and there. But there really wasn't enough time, and when it happened, I wanted to take my time with him, so I had been contenting myself with slowly jacking myself when my hand was free, and rubbing against him when I could. I moved on up towards the real prize.
I'd had to stop him from touching himself several times, since I wanted to get him off, and he was clutching at anything he could reach. I guess I must have done too good a job with everything else, 'cause as soon as I had the head of his cock in my mouth, he gave a strangled yell, his hands were in my hair, and he started shooting as he thrust himself deep into my mouth. I was surprised, but I didn't want to waste it, so I swallowed the salty-sweet, slightly viscous spurts, then savored the slightly bitter aftertaste. It wasn't that it tasted good, although it wasn't really a bad taste, but that it was Jeremy I was tasting. That made all the difference. As he relaxed I raised my head off him, his hands falling off my head, and to his sides. With a few more strokes of my hand, I found my relief, too.
I climbed back up beside him, and he clutched me as though I were the last life preserver on a sinking ship, although there didn't seem to be much strength in him either, right then.
"Damn, Tan. Where'd you learn how to do that?" he asked me, when our breathing had evened out and we'd recovered somewhat.
"Reading," I told him.
"You mean you've never done that before?" He sounded amazed.
"Uh-uh. You liked it?"
"Shit! If it gets any better, you're gonna kill me!"
I laughed at him, knowing that I'd been kinda clumsy and hesitant as I decided what to do next, and that I hoped to get much better at pleasing him. I glanced over at the clock, and almost panicked. "Shit! It's quarter after! C'mon!"
We scrambled out of bed, threw our bathrobes on, and dashed to the bathroom, where we did our morning business, and cleaned off our morning fun. Once dressed, we headed for the kitchen.
"I wondered if you two would make it on time," Mister G commented as we helped ourselves to cold cereal.
I'm sure I blushed, and I know Jeremy did. I wondered if they'd heard us. Mrs. G wouldn't look at me, and wasn't saying a thing: not good for my peace of mind. The warm glow I'd been feeling faded. "But we did, didn't we?" I looked at Jeremy's mother. "Good morning, Mrs. G."
"Good morning, Ethan."
Well at least she was speaking to me, and her voice wasn't hostile.
"Well, we knew you were awake, anyway," Mister G said with a smirk.
I groaned, and my head hit the table. They had heard us! I looked up to try to see what they were thinking.
Mister G was chuckling to himself, his body shaking with the effort, and Mrs. G kinda smirked into her coffee. Jeremy was staring, motionless, at his cereal, his face bright red. We were a match, I'm sure.
Only one thing more was said about it, and Mister G waited until he was driving us to school to bring it up. (Mister G drove us there, although it got us to school a half-hour early. We took the bus home in the afternoon, because Mister G didn't get finished until an hour or two after school was out.) "It would be very considerate of Amy's feelings if you boys were to launder your own sheets when they get... messy," he said, his hesitation making it clear that he wasn't talking about unmade beds.
I hadn't thought of that. Knowing her 'little boy' was sexually active with his lover was one thing - finding evidence of it was another. "I'll do that as soon as I get back," I promised.
The day dragged on, like every other school day. Nothing much different. I heard 'faggot' thrown around a few times - a couple of times at me - but no more than on any other day. I didn't think anyone meant it seriously. Well, I mean... They meant to insult, but they didn't know. At least, I don't think they did, yet. It was just that casual put-down stuff that always goes on. Still, while I didn't let it show, it did kinda hurt. I just said things like 'you wish' and 'yeah, right', sarcastic-like. Barry and the guys were cool, though. We goofed on each other, and had fun. I didn't ignore Jeremy, but we kept it strictly brother friendly, and not much of that.
Jeremy and I took the bus home, where I made it up to him. We sat in front of the tv while we cuddled and kissed for awhile (and yes, our hands got busy and we had a liquid mess to clean up. What do you expect from two horny teenagers?) Then our stomachs decided it had been too long since lunch, so we had a sandwich apiece, drank a soda, then took a soccer ball out in the back yard and kicked it around until his parents got home.
"You know, boys," Mister G said at supper, "that's a huge basement we have down there. Since Ethan is now in what used to be our guest room, I've been thinking we should partition off a part of the basement and make a guest room out of it."
I felt a little guilty that he was having to go to that trouble, but only a little.
"I thought we'd start on it Saturday," he continued. "I'd like both you boys to help, but I thought this could start your earning some spending money, Ethan."
I was surprised, but pleasantly so. "Sure!" I grinned at him, and got a smile in return. Then he had to ruin it by mussing my hair. Well, I was really only annoyed for a second, before the fact that he'd treated me like he would his own son, penetrated. That made me happier than before.
Nothing more of note took place the rest of the week. Jeremy continued to share my shower and my bed, but we didn't have sex every night. And if you believe that, I have a bridge in Brooklyn I can sell you - cheap. We were just starting our relationship, getting to know each other's likes and dislikes (although there wasn't much we didn't like), and it was all still really new to us. Not to mention that our bodies were flooded with hormones as they changed us from boys to men. Of course we were at each other as often as possible! Just hands and mouths, though. Although Jer was getting a lot more comfortable with me touching him anywhere, at any time, there just didn't seem to be enough time free of parental ears. And like I've said before, I wanted to take time with that, and make sure Jeremy enjoyed it as much as possible. But I knew, as vocal as Jer was with what we did do, that there would be some yelling going on of one sort or another during that.
Jeremy did start bringing clean clothes for the next day from his room to mine, though. It was easier. And since we were washing the sheets on my bed nearly every day, we did our clothes, too. Of course that led to Mrs. G teaching us how to do it correctly; separating whites from darks, and how much of what powder or liquid to put in each. She thanked us for doing it, too. It still felt really weird, though, to be sleeping (and other things) with their son while living with them, and knowing they knew what was going on - and then to be working side-by-side with his mom? I just knew she thought of me as some sort of molester - but that was probably just my paranoia speaking. I hope. I knew I'd get used to it eventually, but in the meantime...
So about nine o'clock Saturday morning we found ourselves in the aisles of one of the largest home supply stores in the area. Mister G had already made measurements and made up a list of materials we'd need, so we had a large flat-bed cart, and started piling on the lumber he pointed out to us. Two-by-fours, sheets of cheap, oak-finish paneling, and what I thought at first was drywall panels but turned out to be soundproofing - to keep out the noise of the rest of the basement, which would still be used for recreation and watching sports games, he said. That was understandable. Guests should be able to go to bed without worrying about breaking up anyone else' fun, and visa-versa; people could use the rec-room without worrying about disturbing guests.
We also got cement nails, chemically-treated buffer strips so the wood wouldn't rot by being in direct contact with the concrete, a sound-proofed door and the hardware to go with it, and molding strips.
It was while we were checking out that I saw him. My father. He saw me, too, for a second - then looked right through me, as though I didn't exist. I had known that this would be how he'd act, intellectually, and that I'd inevitably see him from time to time since we lived in the same general area, but when it happened, it caught me totally unprepared. I felt like someone had reached into my chest and grabbed my heart in a cruelly harsh grasp, while at the same time, the room temperature plunged to icy levels.
Mister G noticed my reaction to my father's snubbing of me, but he didn't say anything about that. What he did say, was, "Ethan, you're looking a little pale. Why don't you go out and wait in the car while I make arrangements to have them deliver this stuff?"
Feeling rather numb now, I nodded and took the keys he handed to me, then made my way to the door. Jeremy came with me, of course, with one hand on my shoulder; trying, in the limited way he could in public, to make me feel better. Once in the car, however, he put both arms around me. It rather hurt my macho image of myself, but I huddled into that hug, trying to absorb Jeremy's warmth and love, to combat the coldness shown by the man who'd sired me. But as soon as the numbness wore off, the tears started flowing.
"Damn, Jer; I'm sorry," I said, my voice strained. "I feel like such a baby. Sixteen years old, and crying like someone half my age!"
"Hey; you were thrown away. That could throw anyone!" he told me protectively.
That perspective hadn't occurred to me. Thrown away? The shock of the realization that yes, that is exactly what had happened to me, was enough to put a damper on my outburst. I looked at my boyfriend with new respect. "You're pretty smart, you know that?" I told him. "I never thought of it like that. But you know what? I'm not trash that can be thrown away!" I resolved that I was going to make something of my life and be happy, just to spite the bastard who thought I was so worthless.
"Of course you're not!" Jer sounded really offended that I thought I might have been. I hadn't really, but he couldn't have known that.
About that time Mister G showed up. I'd only unlocked the passenger door when Jer and I got in, so I had to unlock the driver's door for him. I handed him the keys.
"Are you all right?" Mr G asked me.
"Better," I told him. "Jer helped me put things in perspective."
"Yeah. That man threw me away like I was trash. I hadn't thought of it like that, before. But I'm going to make something of myself. I'm going to succeed."
Mister G looked a little worried. "Don't worry too much about succeeding; just find something that makes you happy."
"I've already done that," I told him, kissing Jer on the cheek, and heedless, at the moment, of any eyes that might be watching, "but I know what you mean. Find a job I like. You know, for all that I have a high IQ, I've never thought much about what to do with it after I got through school."
"Have you taken the school aptitude tests?" Mister G asked.
"Yeah. They weren't much help. Said I could do anything I wanted to, basically."
Mister G gave a short laugh. "Well, with a hundred and forty-five IQ, I guess you could. What kinds of things are you interested in?"
Jeremy had gotten bored with the conversation and cuddled up to me, laying his head on my shoulder. I absently put an arm around him, as I thought. I was stumped. There was computer work, of course, and I could probably learn to create programs and games, I guess. But then there was what I'd gone through with my family when I was outed. And I was lucky, compared to many. Maybe social work, or getting a law degree so I could help out kids that needed it. I thought about medicine, but I'd heard of the kinds of hours they had to put in, both in school and in their careers, and promptly dismissed it. It was supposed to be good money, but I wanted to be able to enjoy my life: not have to work half the day and be on call the rest of it. "I'm not sure. I think law, or social work; something to help out kids who aren't as lucky as I was."
Mister G mulled that over for awhile. "I think, with your brains, you should take law. Perhaps specialize in the area of social law. What do you think?"
It sounded good. Later, if I decided I wanted to be a social worker of some kind after all, a background in law should be very helpful. "Sounds like a plan, Mister G."
"I'll see if we have a curriculum that would help you get ready for college, with that in mind."
I wasn't keen on having to change classes this late in the school year, but if it would help... "Thanks."
"Not this year, of course," he said. "If there are new classes you'd have to take, you'd have a hard time catching up. But we'll see. If there are, you could always borrow the books and study them, to be ready for next year."
That was a better plan. I was relieved. "Sure. Sounds good." I hadn't really noticed, but sometime during the last few minutes, I had completely gotten over my reaction to what had happened at the store.
Yeah. Weird, huh? You'd think something like that, being treated like a total stranger by my father, I'd be broken up for hours; a couple of days, even. But I guess on some level I'd been preparing for it since I'd accepted my sexual orientation - a couple of years, now. I mean: it was inevitable, right?
The rest of the ride was spent on idle chit-chat; Mister G asking about how Jeremy and I were doing in classes, if there'd been any problems with the other students or otherwise, and so on.
The lumber and other supplies for the new wall in the basement wouldn't be delivered until Monday, but that didn't mean we were allowed to take it easy. Oh, no. We had to move everything from that end of the basement to the other. Mister G then took a piece of chalk, and after carefully making his measurements, marked it, then cut out the strip of carpeting and padding where the wall would go, minus the door area. He did the same with the paneling, taking it down to the cement walls. I thought it would be easier to just put the two-by-fours on the carpeting and against the paneling, but Mister G explained that butting the wall directly against the concrete, with only the protective strip to prevent rotting between the wood and cement, would make the wall more sturdy, and safer in case of natural disaster.
Naturally after a day like that, all three of us were dirty and tired by the end of the day. Jeremy and I took our shower together, but only had enough energy to help each other wash up - no hanky-panky (as I've heard the older folks call it). We put on our pajamas and bathrobes, and watched a couple of hours of television before heading off to bed. If we hadn't been so stubborn as to want to wait until we actually had to go to bed, we might have headed off an hour earlier. As it was, we merely stripped down and cuddled for a few minutes before dropping off to sleep.
Over the course of the next two weeks, the room was finished: not just building the wall, but all the finishing touches as well. If we could have worked at it steadily it might have only taken two or three days, but since it was only a couple of hours a night, and two of the three workers didn't know what they were doing...
And no, we didn't have the one weekend, either. Mister G had promised the football coaches that he'd attend the away game that weekend - a grudge match with a 'sister' town half the state away. How it got that title I don't know, but the grudge had something to do with a series of football games thirty years ago, where the coach had taught his players to do anything to win, including injuring players on the opposing team. The fact that the coach in question had been fired immediately after that fact was discovered had done nothing to assuage the hurt feelings. Anyway, we won. And that necessitated a party of course, and nobody was worth anything the next day insofar as working was concerned. Well, Mister G wasn't, anyway. And he, rightfully, didn't trust Jeremy and me to work on the project without him. Since we'd never done that kind of work before, we probably would have messed up without even trying.
In the meantime Jer had all but moved into my room. His was where he kept his clothes and other stuff, other than the change he brought with him every night, but he slept with me. It was nice, but sometimes it could get to be a little bit much, too. It seemed I never had any time alone with my thoughts. Don't get me wrong; I loved every second I was with Jer. But some time to sort out my thoughts and emotions when he wasn't there to provide me with distractions, as wonderful as those distractions were, would have been nice, too. School wasn't any good, 'cause there was just too much noise all the time. I wound up spending more time in the bathroom, staying awake after Jeremy had gone to sleep, using tv time, etc, for that purpose. It wasn't quite as good as a solid block of time, but it avoided the hurt feelings I knew Jer would get if I asked for time away from him.
There was another thing that was worrying me, too. I mean: it was really nice of Mister G to set it up for me to make some pocket money, but I was sixteen, and I needed a car. Okay, maybe 'needed' is a bit strong, but I really wanted to take Jer out places and treat him to movies and things, and it would be a lot easier if I had a car. But I couldn't ask Mister G to buy me one like I could my own... Let's back up and try that again. Like I should have been able to ask my father, if the lousy bas... If he hadn't thrown me out. If you hadn't noticed, I still have some anger problems in that area. Anyway, so that meant I needed an after-school job so I could buy one, and afford the insurance and upkeep. Maybe work one day per weekend, too.
I figured I'd get a junk heap. The school had a metal shop class that also taught auto repair. I figured I'd see if I could get Mister G to pull a few strings and have the school fix up my car as a class project. I might have to buy a few parts, but it'd be a lot cheaper than buying a really good car to begin with, or having a car shop fix up a junker. Yeah, it was manipulative, but when you have the contacts, and it's not hurting anybody... Okay, so my conscience wasn't entirely easy with the idea. I didn't really have many options. Just needed just the right time to talk to Mister G about it.
Anyway, with that idea in mind, I dedicated myself to being as helpful as I possibly could. I hadn't stinted on anything the Graves had asked me to do, but I hadn't looked for things that needed doing, either. I changed that. If something needed picking up, I picked it up. I helped Mrs. G with the dishes after meals, when I had time. And since I didn't plan for Jer and me to live with his parents after we graduated, I asked his mom to teach me how to cook. I pulled Jeremy into those lessons, too. I didn't plan to cook all of our meals, and eating out is too expensive on a regular basis. Jer wasn't very happy with me wanting him to learn to cook until after I explained my reasoning to him. Afterward, he still wasn't very happy, but he understood the necessity and was a lot more willing. (I think he was just happy that I was planning for us to be together long-term.)
So anyway, our days and evenings were pretty well filled. As for the nights... Well, we got each other off at least once a day, and usually more, but until Jer could control his vocalizing, I wasn't going to 'go all the way' with him. As it was, I tried to make sure we were alone in the house before we did anything. The knowing looks we got from his parents afterward when we got carried away when they were home was embarrassing, to say the least! Jer just couldn't keep from letting me, and anyone in hearing distance, know just how much he appreciated the pleasure I gave him. Not that it was one-sided. Jer's hands and mouth were magic, as far as I was concerned, but I managed to keep my appreciation fairly quiet - most of the time. There was this one thing he did... Well, still does... Well, let's just say that it's 'more than adequate', okay?
Nothing new was happening at school, and that was good. It was getting harder to not make mistakes with each other, though. It's stupid. Breeder couples can hold hands, hug - even kiss in public; but if two guys who feel the same way about each other do that? You'd think it was a crime! And the guys involved can look forward to meeting bony protuberances on the ends of arms belonging to other guys who think it's their duty to punish that crime. The Victorians and Puritans have a lot to answer for.
Breeders? Oh, yeah. Sorry. That's a term I came across on the internet. Gay guys use it to refer to heterosexuals. It's a lot more polite than some of the names they call us.
But anyway, two weeks went by and the new room in the basement was done. Then it was time to go shopping for furniture for it. All four of us went. I'm not sure why they wanted Jer and I along, but I was pleased that they wanted our opinions. We went to a bare wood furniture store. Since the wood hadn't been painted, varnished, or stained, the furniture was cheaper; and Mr G had known of a place for factory seconds, and that cut the price even further.
I learned that factory seconds can be classified like that just because a board gets dented, although there was worse damaged stuff, too. We picked out a bedroom set, one piece at a time, in pine. Mrs. G decided that the room needed a really large set of drawers so guests could put a lot of stuff on top of it, for convenience; so we picked out an eight-drawer piece. It had two layers of three drawers side by side, and two larger drawers underneath, and was almost seven feet wide. The bed was a queen-sized with drawers under it 'so it doesn't gather dust underneath it', two nice side tables, also with a drawer each, a computer desk with a hutch (I couldn't quite figure that one out, but it wasn't my money, so... ), and a writing desk. Mister G set up a payment plan for it, and set up a date to have them delivered. It would be about a week.
Of course with desks, you need chairs, so next we headed for a government surplus warehouse, and picked up a couple of swivel-style office chairs that weren't in too bad a condition. They were a little worn, but Mrs. G said she'd make covers for them. The chairs were only ten dollars apiece. While we were there we spotted some pretty nice desks, too. They were so much cheaper that Mister G bought two right then and there. He said he'd cancel the desk from the other store, and ask a new friend of his, who had a large pick-up truck, to help him pick them up within the next few days.
That Saturday Mister McBride ("Call me 'Fred'." And his last name was pronounced 'muhk-breed' [Hey, don't look at me - it's his name!]), came by with a huge Chevy pick-up, and we went and picked up the furniture at the government surplus. There wasn't enough room for all of us in the cab, so Jer and I kept a low profile in the back. It's against the law to carry passengers in the back of a truck, and we didn't want Fred to get a ticket while doing us a favor.
Riding back was a trip! We huddled underneath the desks. Between them and the chairs, it was the only place there was room for us. It was kinda scary, but kinda exciting, too. Kinda reminded me of playing 'cave' when I was kid, but this cave was moving down the freeway at sixty-five miles an hour, with all kinds of crazy drivers dodging and manouvering around us.
But we arrived safely, and then the real fun began! Trying to get that stuff down in the basement! We managed, but just barely. Sweaty, darn-near breathless, with some skinned knuckles and elbows and a couple of mashed fingers, but we got it done. I don't know when a cold soda tasted so good, after we got back up to the kitchen.
"Man, I hope your guests really appreciate that room!" I told Mister G.
"Oh, I think whoever stays there will like it very well indeed," he replied with a chuckle.
I didn't see what was so funny, and Jer joined me in giving his dad a strange look.
The bed and set of drawers arrived the following Tuesday while we were all at school. Fortunately Mrs. G was able to get home to let them in, and they put everything in the room themselves. I was very satisfied with that. No more mashed fingers!
Mrs. G wanted to paint them white, but the wood grain was so pretty that I argued they should get varnished, instead. We wound up getting some stuff that had a light oak tint added to it, and over the next few nights we got everything varnished. And it was really pretty with the oak finish on it. We got everything put together and arranged, with Mister and Mrs. G asking us where we thought everything should be put.
I thought they were just being nice and trying to make me feel like part of the family. It was working, too. Then they dropped the bombshell, and told me it was my new room!
"Of course, Jeremy isn't likely to spend any more time in his own room than he has been, so there's plenty of room for his things, too," Mister G remarked.
Gee, thanks. I just about lit up the room with my blush. 'Course, Jer was helping.
Copyright © 2005 by Shamyn Whitehawk