Hi, everybody.  I appreciate all the emails.  This story is in its third incarnation at Nifty, and I still seem to be getting new readers.

I need to put in a word of warning here.  This story is archived in Bisexual/Relationships and in Gay Male/Relationships.  It's above all else a "gay" story, I guess, because in the final analysis, it's about the love of one guy for his best friend.

But it does contain some straight sex scenes in places.  This chapter would be one of those places.  I'm just warning you.  If you hate reading straight erotic narrative, you ought to skip this.

Thanks to the Nifty Archivist for putting up with my need to revise this whole story a couple of times.  And thanks to all my readers and supporters. 

Okay, let's get on with it.

14. Falling

Up until the moment she picked up the phone, I wasn't sure whether I was going through with it or not.

I was nervous.  Me.  Nervous about calling a girl. So nervous I decided to use Pre-Cal as an excuse, in spite of what I'd said to Matt. I couldn't believe the butterflies in my stomach. Ridiculous.

Angie ran with the crowd I ran with. She was probably the only girl in that group I hadn't ever dated. Not because of her looks, though; she was every bit as beautiful as any of the girls I'd been with.

I'd known her since third grade, but for many years, from my perspective, she was just the "smart girl" in my classes. The first time I'd ever really opened up my eyes and seen her was during that Student Council assembly our freshman year, where Matt stole the show. It was clear to everybody that the election was over before anybody cast a vote, and that she didn't have a chance to get elected.  But when her turn came to speak, she hung in there like a trooper. Her delivery was smart and even funny, and I thought she sparkled.

Come to think of it, that was the very day that Matt started bugging me about asking her out.

So why hadn't I asked her out?

It was simple. Looking at her made me weak in the knees. It wasn't just sex drive; the total package unnerved me. I loved watching her in class.  I loved listening to her answer questions. I loved the way she put everything she had into those stupid cheers. I loved the way she spoke her mind, the way she always made it clear that while she genuinely liked everybody, she wasn't going to be led around by anybody.

My crew all liked her visuals, and she was easy enough to talk to.  But she didn't walk around hero-worshipping the jocks.  And while she never had any trouble getting dates, I couldn't remember that she'd been in many serious relationships. I'd heard that she wasn't a virgin, but nobody knew the details, and nobody I knew who'd ever tried to get past first base with her had reported any success beyond a make-out session.

So it wasn't that I hadn't noticed her. God, no. She made my dick hard, just like the available girls I ran with. But being around Angie also brought other parts of me to attention. I was afraid of that. I was afraid of feeling too much. She made my head spin. She made my steps uncertain. I wasn't sure how to finesse her. And after my crash-and-burn "first love" melodrama, I'd vowed never to be that vulnerable again. Angie stirred up some of those same feelings as Staci had, so I avoided her. Never much gave her a second thought; worked hard at not giving her a second thought.

Matt, on the other hand, apparently gave her considerable thought. "She's perfect for you," he was always telling me, at least once a day lately. It was starting to piss me off.

He'd been out with her, twice. He liked her a lot, but though they were friends, they'd never really clicked. "She needs a smart guy in her life," he'd said, as if that explained all that needed explaining.

I'd been successful in ignoring Matt's opinion so far. But he kept raving. He "thought we'd make an ideal couple." Gradually he must have beaten down my resolve, because now I began to warm to the idea.

I don't think my own ideas ran parallel to Matt's, though. He seemed enthusiastic at the thought of finding "true love" for me. Typical Matt. For a tough guy who played the ladies, he was a little bit of a departure: he was always falling in love. Every girl he ever asked out was the "love of his life."

As far as I was concerned, though, that's not what this was about. I'd decided to deal with all that turbulence Angie churned up inside me by mastering it; hell, by mastering her. She'll just be the latest girl in the long string of girls I've hooked up with, I told myself.


That afternoon, Matt's one-note tune about calling her finally put me over the top. More to shut him up than anything, I decided to do it right then. I dialed the number and pumped myself up for the game as I listened to the phone ring. Immediately I started having second thoughts, and for an instant I considered hanging up, when I heard a voice on the other end of the line:


"Hey, Angie, it's Andy."


"Andy Phillips."

"Oh. Hey, Andy, what's up?"

"Listen, I'm over here studying Pre-Cal with Matt..."

"Boy, there's a visual," she said.

"What?" I wasn't following her.

"Matt studying Pre-Cal."

Wow. What brought that on?

I frowned. "I didn't say he was studying Pre-Cal, I'm saying we're up here studying and I'm the one working on the Pre-Cal--"

"...and he's studying the Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue."


"Hey, that's pretty cold," I said, as I turned to look at Matt. "He's studying history."

"I was just kidding," she assured me. "I like Matt a lot."

"Me too."

"I know," she said.

The response struck me as odd, but I shook it off and continued.

"Anyway, I just needed a study break and I just thought, well, we're in the same Pre-Cal class and you might be willing to go grab a Coke at McDonald's or something and just chill, and, you know, kind of see if we can help each other at our weak spots."

"Ooh, smooth move," she said.


While I was trying to figure out what to say that would reverse the power differential on this transaction before it went completely to hell, she started laughing, and said, "I'm sorry, Andy, I was just messin' with you a little. Yeah, sure, I'd be happy to go on your cheap-ass date."

"What kind of apology is that?"

"One that's not gonna bullshit you." She laughed a little more. God, her laugh was infectious; irresistible. Still, I wasn't sure I liked this. You're fumblin' the fuckin' ball, I told myself; I needed to regain the upper hand.

"Look, Angie, it's not a cheap-ass date because it's not a damn date, okay? It's a freakin' study break. I just figured you could probably use a change of scenery. And I figured if you want to talk about Pre-Cal, that's cool too. Maybe I know some stuff from class you don't. Maybe you know some stuff I don't. We could bring our work and find out."

"That might be good," she said. "The last two weeks I've been struggling."

"Me too, but maybe we're dumb in different places," I suggested.

She laughed again. "So I guess if it's not a date, you're not gonna pick up the tab for me or Matt."

"Matt's not coming," I said.



"So this is a date."

I sighed. "Just tell me if you wanna go; I'm dyin' here and you're doin' a number on my ego, pretty girl."

"Sure, Andy," she said.

"'Sure' what?"

"Sure, I'll meet you at McDonald's for a study break. Or a study session. Or whatever it is you're calling this date."

I had to smile to myself. Shit, she's good. "Awesome," I replied. "Hey, I'll even buy."

"Even better," she said. After the initial resistance, she seemed to be enjoying talking to me. All right, boy, I thought. You're in.

Yeah, I am so smooth.

"One thing, though," she said. "Stop playing the game on me, okay? It's kind of insulting, and it sure doesn't make you very attractive."

I froze.


"I don't know what the hell you're talking about," I shot back, wincing at the brazenness of this lie.

"Oh, really."


"Okay, then," she began; "If that's true--"

"It's true," I interrupted. "Passionate sincerity mode" was always my best weapon in the game. The sincerity was optional, as long as the passion was convincing.

"Okay, if it's true, then be true about this: What did you and Matt say to each other the last five minutes before you made this phone call?"


"Look, Angie," I protested, as my brain stumbled around for a path through this minefield.

"No, you look, Andy. I like you. I think there's something real about you. Don't bring a bunch of lines, though. You do that with girls a lot. Just bring the real Andy, okay?"

"You have me all wrong," I began again, recognizing that I was going to have to play it wounded-and-sincere. "I'm a better person than all that."

"Are you willing to prove it?"

"Yeah, I am," I said.

"Then tell me what you said to Matt before you called."




"Before you called, is it possible that you bragged to Matt about being able to snag-and-bag me?"


"Andy, answer the question."

I sighed. I could tell this was going to require moving into uncharted territory.

"Okay. Yeah, I did.  I'm sorry.  It was just dumb guy talk, like we always do; I didn't mean anything by it."

I didn't think that would be good enough for her. I expected to hear the receiver click down, and I was thinking about how to save face with Matt. Instead, she spoke. "I know that's true...mostly. But save your dumb guy talk for dumb guys, because I'm not one. I'm also not standing in the line, you know what I mean?"

I hesitated, staring at the phone.


"What?"  I said it with more force that I wanted.  I felt like a deer in headlights. I had to think of something fast: "Okay! I just...I know you're not..." I trailed off, tongue-tied, then took a deep breath and plunged in again.

"Okay. Here it is, bottom line. I like you. We've never been out in all these years and I like you. Is that a crime?"

"No," she said, "it's not. And I like you too. I have for a long time. You're smart. And you've always been nice to me. And you and Matt have done some good things at school. And Matt, well, mainly he's just a real sweet guy . But I don't need to tell you that."

There it was again. What the hell?

Before my thoughts had a chance to drift off-course, she continued.

"The thing is, I know about you. Both of you. Boys aren't the only ones who talk. And I don't always like what I hear. You guys go through girls pretty fast. That's why I've never thrown myself at your feet the way you like it."

This girl was actually making me feel ashamed. Who the fuck did she think she was, talking to me like this? Nobody talks to me like this. This is my reward for asking her out?

But I couldn't help it: I found myself wanting more of this. Of her.

"Anyway," I heard her say, "I can meet you at McDonald's in fifteen minutes, and we'll see how it goes. I can probably get away from this crap for an hour, or at least take it somewhere else. It might clear my head to work through it with you."

"Great," I said. "I'll see you there in fifteen minutes. We'll call it a study date, since you're making me get all honest with you."

"All right; sounds like a plan," she said. "One more thing..."


"Bring lots of money, Andy. I'm ordering a big Coke."

I was laughing too much to get a clear "goodbye" out, but I hung up anyway.

Matt had been paying attention to my end of the dialogue; when I cracked up and hung up, he said, "What?"

"Oh, man, Matt," I answered. "She may be better at this thing than me."

His smirk told me he'd enjoyed watching me squirm a little. "My work is done here," he quipped, and he began packing up his stuff.

I grabbed my books and walked with him down the stairs. When we got to his van he slapped me on the shoulder and wished me luck as he climbed in.

"Hey, I got it all under control," I said.

"Yeah, right," he grinned, as he backed out of the driveway.

I got into my car and headed toward McDonald's, trying to figure out what the fuck had just happened. Boy, had I gotten thrown off my game.

"Thrown off"? Shit, the game got thrown out! Or at least it would if she had her way.

Although I didn't yet realize it, I was the one who was snagged-and-bagged.


Fifteen minutes later, we were sitting in a booth at McDonald's.

We talked for an hour; we never even got around to Pre-Cal.

She laughed at my jokes; I laughed at hers. She was a huge sports fan, and even knew more stats than I did. She shared my political views, and had plenty of her own. We talked about our upcoming senior year, and beyond that, college and the future. She had it all figured out: from college she wanted to go to medical school.

We talked about the people we'd dated last. We talked about our friends. It was relaxed and easy, and oddly for me, it was genuine. When it was all done, I realized that from the very beginning, I'd lost control of the game. I ended up being myself--and it didn't kill me. As a matter of fact, it made things better.

Too soon, she looked at her watch and said, "I gotta go." I couldn't believe an hour had gone by. It felt like five minutes. " Okay," I told her. "But would you go to a movie with me this weekend?"

"Well, it depends. What movie?"

I frowned. "What difference does it make?"

"Well, I know you're not used to this on a date, but at the movies I actually watch the movie. So it makes a difference."

I had to laugh. "Okay. Let me see what's on where and it'll give me an excuse to call you."

"All right," she said. "You did all right today, by the way."

"Well, I'm glad I passed the test."

She ignored the sarcasm. "I meant it. I liked talking to you."

"Yeah, I hear what you're saying," I grinned. "And you can think what you want, but I like you too--a lot. For real; no game, no lines..."

I hesitated for effect, then smiled and continued. "But I'm still gonna get what I want. How's that for no bullshit?"

"Impressive," she said, reaching for her Coke. "Announcing your evil intent; that's a gutsy move. How about if I return the favor? I'm gonna get what I want, too, before you ever do. Because if I don't, you won't either."

She looked into my eyes. "Anyway," she said, growing serious, "why does it have to be all about that? Why can't it just be about what it's about?"

I wasn't sure what she meant, but I was enchanted. She was so self-possessed.

I stood up with her and watched as she walked away. As a parting shot, she turned back to me and said, "So...I'll hear from you when I hear from you. Your move, Andy. Okay?"

"You'll hear from me later tonight," I told her.

"I'd like that." And with that she was out the door.

I drove home, pulled the car into our driveway and sat there for a moment.

I'd heard Mom say a million times that relationships can only happen when people drop the armor and open up to each other.

Who wants that, though?

"Yeah, I wonder who," I said out loud. The sound of my own voice startled me. Damn. I was in bad shape: she had me talking to myself.

I shook my head and laughed a little. It wasn't an amused laugh. If this thing flew, in a real sense I was going to be the one "giving it up."

Talk about your reversals.


I took her to see "Austin Powers." Not an obvious choice for a first date, but I had friends who were already throwing around quotes from the movie, and I'd been wanting to see it. If she wants the "real" Andy, I figured, she'll have to get used to my warped sense of humor.

And just as she'd said, she watched the movie. She loved it. I loved that she loved it. And--God help me--I loved her.


There was a field party going on later that night at the north end of the city. A field party is a huge suburban teenage hormone-fest. It gets held late at night on a weekend, on the sly, in an open field or some not-yet-used piece of real estate in suburbia. Kids bring their music, and their bodies, and their drugs of choice, and just let the collective teen id run wild. It goes without saying that these gatherings are not particularly safe; too many kids have gone over the edge at field parties and dropped off, at least temporarily--too much booze, too much weed, too much Ecstasy, too much heroin, too much cocaine, even too much sex; or some combination thereof. But if your head's on straight and you don't get stupid, even the smart kids find them to be excellent vehicles for venting some of the pressures of life in an achievement-oriented suburban pressure cooker. And nobody harasses anybody to indulge in any of the more dangerous stuff that's plentiful there; you're free just to enjoy the vibe if that's all you want.

After the movie, we stopped by the party to see who was there. Everybody was. Well, everybody but the Jesus kids. Stoners, jocks, and cheerleaders, the industrial crew, the smart kids; everybody was up to something. We bumped into Alex Burleson, a senior wide receiver, who greeted us and motioned us toward his pickup. He had an ice chest full of soft drinks, beer, and several fifths of vodka and rum. I grabbed a couple of Cokes and cups. I raised a questioning eyebrow at Angie and pointed to the rum; she nodded, and I poured some rum into the cups, threw in some ice, and filled them with the Coke.

We walked through the thick of the crowd, greeting the people we knew. Several of my buds looked at me with raised eyebrows, as if to say, "Good luck, buddy, you're gonna need it." My red-haired football teammate Ethan, drunk on his ass, saw us together and started in with the thumbs-up sign, leering and shouting, "You go, Phillips; shell that clam and you will definitely be Da Man."

"Shut up, asshole," I shouted at him. I cringed and turned to look at Angie. She just laughed and said, "If I were you I'd tell him not to put any money on it."

We made our way back to Alex's pickup, intending to shoot the shit with him a little. When we got there, he was in the cab with his girlfriend, Jessica Vinson. Jessica was a cheerleader and a good friend of Angie's. It was pretty clear that Alex and Jess were more interested in making out than in talking to us, so we took our drinks and sat on the bed of the pickup, talking, occasionally staring up at the stars.

As the evening went on, I found myself reflecting upon the fact that in two dates' time, I'd fallen hard.

Angie made me feel alive. Things felt easy and natural between the two of us. It made me want to risk. It made me want to open up.

As we talked, I took her hand gently, and held it; she looked at me and smiled. We talked, sipped our drinks, and enjoyed the atmosphere.

In the middle of one of my tall tales she leaned toward me and kissed me. It was easy, gentle, almost like a feather brushing my lips. I scooted in closer and returned the kiss; this one was a little longer, a little more insistent. She responded in kind.

I lifted her off the bed of the pickup and onto the ground. We stood facing each other. She looked into my eyes and smiled; I stroked her beautiful blond hair and closed my eyes, then put my arms around her and pulled her closer to me. We began kissing again, and I urged the action forward by placing my open mouth on hers. She responded by opening her mouth, and soon our tongues were in the act.

As the passion and the sexual tension rose, she pulled me tight against her, grinding our crotches together. Shocked, I pulled back a little and looked at her in disbelief.

This was the girl who wasn't putting out?

She grinned and said, "What? You gonna tell me you don't know what it's like to use someone's body?"

"Well, uhhh...you said...you said that you weren't--"

I couldn't finish the sentence because she put her mouth back on mine, and just like that we were back at it again.

When we came up for air, she said, "I'm happy, Andy. It's fun to be with you. And you didn't even bring any of that fake crap. I think you're sexy when you're real. When you're not being an asshole, you have a lot to offer."

I decided to go with an "asshole" reply. "You have no idea," I said, grinning wickedly.

She didn't even blink. "Oh, I have a pretty good idea," she shot back. "I told you before, boys aren't the only ones who talk. And anyway, after what we've just been doing, I think I know pretty much first-hand."

Okay; she's not shockable, either. Damn. I put a hand to my face, covering it, and shook my head a few times.

She pulled my hands away from my face and looked straight into my eyes. "What I was gonna say is--well, that part's easy. You can have that any time you want with all kinds of girls. But I'm not one of 'em. I want more from you. I like your brain. And I like your personality, when you decide to bring your real one."

I started to say something in my defense, but, to my credit, I kept my mouth shut.

"Oh, I like the rest, too," she added with a wicked smile as she put her hand on my crotch and squeezed. While I tried to put my eyes back into their sockets, she added, "But we're gonna take this a day at a time, and we're not going there unless it's right, and both of us know it's right. Can you live with that?"

Could I live with it? Hell, I'd have fuckin' laid on a bed of nine-inch nails for it! She had me right where she wanted me. And in two dates!

I pulled her close to me and kissed her. "I get what you're saying and it's cool with me," I told her. "Just being with you...getting to know you better...that's awesome, and it's all I want."

I paused, then raised my eyebrows and added, "For now."

She just laughed, and patted my ass. "We'll see."


The Jock Posse trips to the beach started the weekend before school let out that year. We'd gone three times by the end of June. By that point in the summer, Angie and I had been going out for eight weeks.

We were still going strong. I saw her almost every day. And it was always easy, always smooth, always right for both of us. I gave myself more and more to her--genuinely, effortlessly, unconcerned about where it was taking me.

And although I continued to press, she continued to hold me off on the matter of sex. She wouldn't even give me a little head.

Somehow it didn't matter. Before, if a girl hadn't put out by the fifth date, I'd have moved on down the road. The most Angie would ever do was grope me outside my jeans, and let me grope her from the outside; maybe feel a breast. But I didn't care. I didn't just want into her pants; I wanted her in my world. I thought about her all the time when I was away from her. I couldn't keep my mind off her.

She never went along on a Posse beach trip. She had a job as an assistant camp director for a summer YMCA day camp and couldn't get away. I had a more flexible schedule.  My grandfather had a successful landscaping business in the area.  Over the last couple of summers, he helped me build up my lawn-maintenance gigs into a profitable lawn care/landscaping venture of my own.  I operated under his banner, but the interface with the clientele was all my own. I had several ongoing commercial contracts, and lots of residential work. Sometimes Danny helped, sometimes Matt helped, and my grandfather gave lots of assistance and advice with landscaping issues. He was lots of help on the marketing and business ends too.

The best thing about the work was that within reason, I could set my own hours, and could take a few days off here and there for fun and games. It was an ideal arrangement for dropping everything to soak up sun and surf with my crew.

The beach trips that summer were pretty much the same as they'd always been for most of the guys. My Posse teammates got lots of sex at the beach those first three trips that summer. I had plenty of opportunities; there were always amazing girls who enjoyed hooking up with athletic guys. But I wasn't all that interested. I had a great time swimming, soaking up the rays, horsing around with my friends, and taking in what the coastline had to offer me. But for the first time in my love life, I was willing to go without, for the sake of protecting and preserving something that seemed, for once, better than sex.

My right hand saw a lot of action, though.


The Jock Posse had gone to the beach over the July 4 weekend. Most of us had driven down on Thursday, the 3rd.

Not to have Angie along dampened my enthusiasm somewhat.  But even without her, the coastline always worked its peculiar magic on me. Additionally, on this trip Matt had voluntarily taken a break from hooking up with some bikini-clad local for the sake of spending a little one-on-one with me to keep me entertained. We talked, and threw the football around, and drank, and smoked a joint or two.

He and I were fishing off the pier on the evening of the 5th, after having spent much of the day sleeping off the excesses of the night before. There weren't many people out there with us. Except for the sound of the waves breaking a few hundred feet behind us, things were placid.

I liked it. And I liked being there, fishing. Most of all, I guess, I liked having Matt with me. We didn't have to fill the space with empty talk. Quiet time with him calmed my stormy, ADD-addled brain.

I'd pulled in my line to bait the hook again. We'd been fishing in silence for about twenty minutes, neither of us catching anything worth keeping, when he spoke up:

"I told you about Angie."

He was reeling in his line as he spoke, and set down his rod-and-reel. I turned to look him in the face, scrutinizing, trying to see if he was having a little fun with me. He was looking at me with his patented killer smile, but there wasn't an ounce of insincerity there.

A wisp of a thought, difficult to grab and pin down, swept by: I wish he'd touch me, put his hand on my shoulder. In the same instant that I tried to fix on that thought, verify that that's actually what I was thinking, another force inside me pushed me away from it, and I stared vacantly downward into the waves.

After a while, I spoke up. "I think I'm in love with her," I confessed.

There was another long silence. Then he scooted close to me and threw an arm over my shoulder as he said, "You're my boy; you know that, don't you?"

I closed my eyes and let the experience of his touch wash over me. His nearness, his warmth, his love: the air was thick with all of it.  I reached up with my hand and clasped the hand that was draped over the front of my shoulder.

"Yeah; I know."

"I knew she was perfect for you."

"I know; you told me."

"I'm not saying I told you so; I'm just saying."

"I know. You were right."

"She's beautiful," he said, after another minute of silence.

"I know."

"I'd ask her out again myself."

"Matt, you don't need to tell me how awesome she is."

He laughed; then his face grew serious, reflective. "I know," he said, almost whispering. "I'm just happy for you."

I let go of his hand and he took his arm off my shoulder. Grabbing his rod and reel, he baited his hook again and cast off.


I got home Sunday night around ten. My parents were out on the town with friends from our church. I'd gone upstairs and was unpacking all my stuff. Danny was sitting cross-legged on my bed, talking with me. That spring he'd made the varsity football team, and he was curious to know everything about the Posse and our beach trips. I was giving him a play-by-play of the weekend when the phone rang. Danny leaned over to my nightstand and picked it up.

After the initial "hello," I heard him say, "Yeah, this is me."

He paused, listening. A grin spread on his face, then he said, "Okay, so it's not. But you wanna dump that loser for a real man, Angie. I have a bigger--"

"Shut up," I said, snatching the phone from him. "And anyway, you don't."

"Doesn't matter," he said, "if you go over there smelling like that."

I put the receiver to my ear. "Hey, Angie. I apologize for my little brother's obnoxiousness." At that, Danny punched me hard on the arm.

She laughed. God, whenever she laughed I wanted to kiss her. "It's okay," she said, "I have a brother. Did you have a good time?"

"Yeah, I did," I told her.  "It was kind of quiet. We played some ball and I did some fishing with Matt. How was your weekend?"

"Pretty good," she said, "but I've been lonely. My parents have been at the lakehouse all weekend, so it's just been me. A bunch of us went to the Cotton Bowl and watched the fireworks on the Fourth. Aside from that, I mostly worked."

"Excellent. Just keep rakin' in the money so you can support me."

She laughed, and then said, "I missed you, Andy."

I was touched by her sincerity.  "I missed you too."

After a moment's silence she said, "Andy...my parents both took a vacation day Monday so they could spend an extra day at the lake."

"So you want me to come keep you company till they get back tonight?"

"Yeah, I do." She paused. "Did you hear what I just told you? They're not getting back till tomorrow night."

The hand holding the phone dropped from my face and fell into my lap. I sat there, a little dazed for a moment. Tomorrow night? Was she saying--

I put the receiver back to my ear. "I'll be over in twenty minutes. I gotta shower and take care of some stuff. I'll see you in a little bit. Love you." I hung up the phone, sprinted to the closet, and started pulling out some fresh clothes.

Danny looked at me with curiosity. "What's going on?"

I walked back to the foot of the bed, stripped off my t-shirt, and threw it onto my bed. "Never mind. When Mom and Dad get back, tell them I'm spending the night at Matt's."

"But that wasn't Matt on the phone."  He sounded puzzled, and looked blankly at me for a few seconds. Then, as the light dawned, his eyes grew wide.  "Hey, are you gonna actually--"

"If you don't ask, you won't have to lie," I said, interrupting him. "Just do what I tell you and say I told you I was spending the night at Matt's."

"Maybe I will, and maybe I won't," he taunted.

"I guess you will if you don't want your first year on Varsity to be pure hell," I said. I walked over to my nightstand and opened its drawer. I pulled out four wrapped condoms and laid them on top of my clothes.

He was unfazed at my threat. "What's it worth to you?"

I sighed. "I don't know, Dan. What's your price?"

He grinned and said, "I want to hear all the details tomorrow night."

"You're a pervert," I said.

His face grew serious.  "No, man, maybe you can give me some pointers. I still haven't...well, you know."

I wasn't sure how to respond.  "It's kind of private. I love her, Danny. It's not just a quick screw."

Danny's face fell.

"Tell you what," I said. "Keep my little secret and when I get home tomorrow night I'll tell you about my first time. That might be more what you want to hear anyway."

"Okay," he said. "But I was just kidding. You don't have to. I'd cover for you anyway."

"Thanks," I replied.  "And I'll tell you what you want to know. Now do me one more favor."

"What's that?"

"Call Matt and tell him I'm telling Mom and Dad I'm spending the night at his house. If they call him to talk to me tell him to say I'm in the bathroom. Then have him call me at Angie's." My parents didn't butt into my love life, much, but they might have something to say about this move.  And I wasn't interested in having them lecture me about sleeping over at a girl's house.

He raised his eyebrows. "Dude, you better be glad we don't have Caller ID."

"Whatever; will you just do it?"

"Yeah, of course I will," he said. "Go clean up. You stink." He watched me as I pushed my soccer shorts and boxers down to my ankles. I noted with some amusement that his eyes focused for just a little too long on my crotch. I stepped out of my clothes, turned around, and walked naked back to my closet to get a towel.

Just before I stepped out of the room, I turned and said, "Thanks, Dan. I love you, Little Bro."

Danny grinned big, and said, "Back atcha, Naked Boy."


After I showered, I threw on some khakis, a polo shirt, and a pair of sandals, and made it to Angie's in record time. She was waiting for me outside when I pulled up.

"I was so lonely this weekend," she said, grabbing me around the waist. "The whole time we were watching the fireworks I was wishing you were with me."

"It was the same with me, Angie," I said. "It's not as much fun down there anymore when my mind keeps wandering back to you."

She pushed me away from her playfully. "Liar," she said. "It was the beach; I know about you and the beach."

I reached forward and pulled her back into me. "Well, yeah, you're right; but I still wished you were there." I kissed her on the neck. She shivered, pulled me closer, and put her mouth on mine. I opened my mouth and our tongues began exploring each other.

I stopped long enough to whisper, "Let's go inside."

She fluttered innocent-looking eyelids at me and said, "Why?"

"Well, for whatever reason you called, or should I just go back home?"

"I don't think you wanna do that," she replied, as she led me by the hand through the front door and on into her bedroom.


We walked into her bedroom, holding hands. Jewel's "You Were Meant for Me" was playing in the background.

I pulled her toward me and looked into her eyes. "Are you sure you want to do this? You know you don't have to do this. I love you and I'll wait as long as you need."

She kissed me all over my face. "I know. I told you, remember? You'll get what you want when I've gotten what I want. Andy, you gave that to me almost from the beginning."

"I already have what I want too," I said, kissing her again. "It's not even about 'getting what I want' unless--"

"Shut up," she said, her eyes sparkling. "Look around and get a clue."

I took in the room for the first time. The overhead lights were off; and she must have had a hundred candles lit. The bedsheets were turned down, and the music had segued from Jewel to All-4-One's "I Can Love You Like That." I smiled when the tune came on; she said, "I mixed a tape just for the occasion."

Everything was perfect. I was so overwhelmed with love for her--with desire for her--that I couldn't speak.

I kissed her one more time, then pulled my shirt over my head and draped it over the chair by her dresser. She kissed me on the neck and made her way down, kissing me all over the chest, then on the nipples. I pulled her top over her head and laid it on top of mine.

I knelt down, unfastened her jeans, and pulled them down past her knees. She stepped out of them and stood before me, now clad only in a white bra and a pair of white bikini panties. I brought my lips to the crotch of her panties and kissed, gently at first, then more insistently. I'd read an old novel once that said that down there women smelled like warm hay drying in a barn. That wasn't quite right, I thought, as I pulled the panties down and kissed her again where I'd kissed her before--but it was close enough.

I spread her apart a little with my hands and entered her with my tongue. Her scent, her taste, urged me on. The thinking part of my brain seemed to stand back, watching, as a more primal, more primordial part of me stepped forward. She stroked my hair, moaning, while I stroked her with my tongue.

After a while I stood up, held her close to me, and reached around and unhooked her bra. Taking it off, I laid it on top of our shirts and pulled our naked chests together. My dick was straining for release against my pants. As I kissed her breasts, her hands caressed my back, my ass, the back of my head.

I pulled back a little, unbuttoned the fly on my khakis, and dropped them and my boxers to the floor. Stepping out of them, I stood before her naked and moved closer to her to embrace her again, when she said, "Just stand there for a minute. I want to look at you."

I smiled and stood still for a minute, watching her watching me. My dick was standing at full attention and a little drop of precum had appeared at the tip.

I watched as she closed her eyes and sighed. We stood there, naked before each other for the first time.

She knelt down at my feet and caressed my nuts with her hand. Then she wrapped a hand around the base of my dick, put her tongue to the tip, and licked off the drop of precum. Gently she pulled back the foreskin, put the head of my dick in her mouth, and began swirling her tongue around it.

My entire body shuddered and I thought for a minute I was done for. "Angie," I gasped, "you better stop if you want this to last longer than thirty seconds." In response, she stood up and hugged me; my penis rubbed lightly against her belly.

I reached downward and put a hand on her pubes. With my middle finger I rubbed gently against her opening. My dick jumped as I felt my finger sink into her; she was so wet! I caressed her clit gently as I held her to me, and she began breathing deeper and moaning softly.

I pulled away from her and picked my pants up off the floor. Reaching into a pocket, I pulled out a condom and tore the wrapper off. I started to grab my dick to put it on, but she said, "Let me do it, okay?"

I smiled and handed her the condom.

"Tell me what to do," she said.

"Put it on the tip and pinch off the top of the condom with one hand so air doesn't get trapped in it. Then just unroll it onto me."

"As far as I can?"

"All the way to the short hairs," I laughed.

She did it perfectly. When it was on, she stood up and pulled me to her. She began sucking on my neck. I stuck my finger back inside her and began stimulating her clit lightly. We stood there making out for about a minute. Then she leaned back onto the bed and pulled me on top of her.

I continued massaging her with my finger for a while. Then I took my hand and guided my dick into place, and closing my eyes, eased slowly into her.

Her hands were caressing my back as I entered her. I watched her face as I pushed further in. Her eyes got wide and her breathing grew quicker, so I tried to be as gentle as I could. When I was in to the hilt, I stopped for a minute and asked, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," she said. A couple of tears fell down her cheek. "I'm sorry. I'm not hurt. You know I always get like this when--when something happens better than I even dreamed."

"I love you, Angie," I said, wiping the tears from her face.

She smiled, and her eyes were moist and shining. "I love you too, Andy."

Our bodies seemed to understand each other perfectly; our sexual rhythm was as easy and natural as our emotional rhythm had been since that first date. I discovered that Angie got off easily and was capable of several orgasms in one session. I brought her off twice just by making sure the top of my dick rubbed against her clit. Each time after I felt her tighten around me as she came, I quit thrusting while she recovered. I never pulled out, though. She was ready to keep going after each one. Finally, after we'd been making love for about twenty minutes, and I was getting so close I could hardly stand it, her muscles squeezed together in orgasm and I couldn't hold back any longer; I exploded into the condom and felt my dick spasm for what must have been twenty times. She had her hands on my ass, and one of her hands was tracing up and down the crack, pushing just a little farther between the cheeks than a nice girl should know how to do.

As my orgasm subsided, I covered her body with kisses. I rolled us over to our sides and pulled our sweaty bodies close to each other, my dick still inside her. We kissed, caressed, and closed our eyes and fell asleep, still physically joined.

An hour later I woke up. My dick had gone soft and had slipped most of the way out of her. I put my hand on the base of the condom and pulled out the rest of the way, then slipped the condom off my dick and tied it off at the opening. I'd never seen so much cum in a condom before. I got up quietly, stuffed the condom into the opened wrapper, and put it into the pocket of my khakis. Then I went into her bathroom and took a shower. I wanted to clean all the remaining cum off my dick so I could sleep with her without any chance of getting us into trouble.

After I'd cleaned up I climbed back into bed with her. I pulled her back into me and caressed her tiny butt with my hands. She opened her eyes briefly and smiled and we kissed lightly. I fell asleep with her in my arms; it was the first time I'd ever literally slept with a woman. Somewhere deep in my chromosomes I was singing.

We made love two more times that night, and woke up in each other's arms the next morning when the alarm went off at daybreak. I found myself resenting the sunrise. I had a day's worth of lawns to mow and she had camp kids to entertain. Our incredible night was fading with the rising sun. We got up early and showered together, and made love in the shower, standing up.

We got dressed and ate breakfast together. As we walked out the front door together, we took time for one final passionate kiss.

For the rest of the day, as I worked on my lawns, I relived the events of the previous night. I felt more "right" with the world than I'd ever remembered.

I called her when she got off work. We talked for a while, but didn't have a lot of time; she was going out to dinner with her parents, who'd gotten back home. Just hearing her voice, though, brought it all back to me.

I had dinner with my family; I'd hardly seen my parents since I'd left for the weekend. I spent the remainder of my evening with Danny and Beth. Danny had just bought a new video game and we played that for a while; then I piled them into my car and we went to the mall theater nearby and watched "Men In Black." I hadn't done much with my brother and sister lately, and it was fun to spend time with them. My family was close, and my relationship with Danny and Beth was always tight.

By the time we got home, I was tired from the day's exertion, and showered up fairly quickly after that. As I turned off the light and climbed into bed, I thought once again of Angie and of how much I loved her. "She makes me whole," I said to myself.

"Almost," whispered a voice from some unknown place inside me.


Copyright 2005 by Adam Phillips.  Thanks for reading.  You can email me at aaptx28@yahoo.com and I promise I'll email you back.