Lunch at the Regal

This is a work of fiction. As always, this story is intended for an adult audience interested in Gay erotic literature. If you are not of legal age--that's eighteen in the US--or are offended by depictions of homosexuality or what homosexuals do when you're not around, then I strongly request that you find another place to surf. This story remains the property of the author and may not be reprinted in part or in whole without my permission.

If you'd like to contact me, you can write me at: soqueer@hotmail.com.

Love and a wet kiss,

SoQueer

"Fuckin' faggot!" I heard a man behind me say. It was Sunday afternoon, and I had taken my elderly mother out for dinner. We were sitting at our usual table at the Regal, a small, greasy restaurant in Quitman, Georgia--a community not known for being the center of cultural enlightenment.

"Hold your head up," I told myself. "You're a gay man in South Georgia. Don't let that Neanderthal get to you. He's the one with the problem!"

I had moved back home after my father's death a year earlier. At the time it seemed a wise choice: After all, I loved my mother, and she needed me now that she was alone and her health was fading. Returning to the closet, however, had not proven so easy. Now I found myself facing a scene I had dreaded as far back as I could remember. Being outed in public is not only humiliating, but in some areas of the country it can also be dangerous.

I knocked a spoon off the table to give myself an excuse to see my tormenter. As I bent down to retrieve the fallen spoon, I looked up into his face. To my surprise, he was a beautiful young man of about nineteen or twenty with gold-blond hair, a deep farmer's tan, and clear blue eyes. Also to my surprise was the fact that he was NOT looking at me. I followed his gaze over to the table across from mine, to a young man of about eighteen. He wassitting by himself with his head hung low. His cheeks were bright red, and his hands were shaking. I sat up still looking at him, knowing full well what he was going through. I had to put a stop to this for my own sake if not for his.

I glanced over at my mother. She hadn't said anything, but I knew she had heard the man, too. I excused myself and went over to the blond guy's table. I squatted down so that we could be at eye level. "Listen, that's my mother over there, and she's not used to that kind of language. Could you lower your voice a notch or two, please?"

"Fuck you!" he said.

I looked at the woman sitting at the table across from him. She was easily a hundred pounds overweight, and the only thing more limp than her hair was the expression on her face. Next to her sat a mealy-mouthed baby with the same vacuous look on his face. I looked back at the blond and felt a smile touch my lips. In that short moment I had him, his sham of a marriage, and his relationship to the boy across the room summed up. I felt a tinge of sorrow for this closeted bigot. "You have a nice day, too. And your charming wife, here, as well."

I went back to my chair. I could hear the man grumbling under his breath several times, but I couldn't help noting that he kept it low enough that I couldn't make out the words. The boy across the room noted the change, also. He glanced over at me several times, each time letting himself look at me a little longer. Finally, I gave him a little smile. He smiled back, but didn't look in my direction again.

My mother finished her meal, and I helped her to her feet. Old age can be terrible for some people, and Mom was one of those fiercely independent people who can't bare being helped. Still, she took the proffered hand and got out of her chair. In a statement of defiance she announced that the meal was on her and she picked up the check. I followed her toward the counter but stopped at the youth's table. He had long since finished his meal and was just sitting there. He looked up at me with a fragile smile on his face. "Hi," he said. I made no reply but smiled at him. I put my thumb under my chin and pushed it up and then gave him a wink. I saw a brief tinge of crimson rush to his face, and I walked to the door to help my mother out.

As I got Mom settled in I couldn't help thinking about the situation in the restaurant. Ten years earlier it might have been me sitting there with my head hung low. I had been outed at school by my once best friend as a cover for his own confused sexuality. At the time, I didn't understand what was going on. It was just a game we played, like gin rummy or baseball. One by one I watched my friends and classmates withdraw from me like I was some kind of serial killer. I had longed for someone to just stop him from talking--to shut him up long enough for me to collect myself. I had desperately longed for someone to do for me what I had just done for the boy in the caf. I felt proud of myself for sticking up for the kid. "Hey, Mister!" I heard a voice call out from behind me as I was going around the car. I turned to see who was calling me and saw the red-faced youth walking in my direction. "What did you mean by that chin thing back in there?" he asked.

"I meant, `Keep your chin up!'" I said. "I heard the guy sitting behind me. He was talking about you wasn't he?"

He just stood there. Tears welled up in his eyes, but he didn't make a sound. I reached in my coat pocket, took out one of my business cards, and wrote my home phone number on the back. "Here. Call me if you ever need someone to talk to. No strings attached-- I'll just listen with out judging. OK?"

He took the card from my hand and put it in his pocket. "Thanks," he said. "For back there."

"Anytime," I said. He gave me a little wave and walked off. I got in the car and drove back home.

The heat wave had been on for two weeks. The air-conditioning at the house went out, and the nights became unbearable. I threw all the windows open and headed for Quitman for a couple of cold beers. I hoped it would give the house time to cool off some and help me relax enough to get to sleep. I took the twelve-mile ride as slow as I could down back roads with the truck's AC on wide open. By the time I got to the convenience store I was no longer sticky, and I had almost changed my mind. I decided I needed the change, though, and went inside.

I was standing at the counter checking out when I saw him. He gave me a nod--something southern men do to each other without thinking if they accidentally make eye contact--and headed to the coolers. The clerk had problems ringing up my purchase, so I was still at the counter when the young man returned.

"Hi," I said, and gave him a little smile. "How's it going?"

His face flushed red with recognition. "Uh, I--OK I guess."

He obviously was embarrassed, so I turned back to the clerk to hand her my money. I paid my tab and left the store. As I was unlocking the truck door he came out of the store and got on an old bike, but he just stood there like he was trying to make up his mind. I hadn't realized how cute he was until just then, but something about the way his loose clothes hung on his body grabbed my attention. I realized it had been some time since I had been with any one, and I began feeling the familiar stirring in my crotch. I decided I had better leave, so I opened the truck door to get in.

"Mr. Davis? Uh, Allen?" I turned to see him getting off his bike.

How the hell did he know my name, I asked myself. The business card! "Yes?"

"I--Does your offer still stand?" he asked, his face an odd shade of red in the store's lights. "From the other day, I mean! You do remember?"

"Yeah," I replied with a smile. "I remember. Let's put your bike in the back, and we'll go for a ride."

He ran over to the bike and threw it in the back. I unlocked the passenger door, and he climbed in. His loose shorts rode up his legs enough to reveal a nice set of thighs already showing an impressive amount of hair. It was all I could do not to reach over and cop a feel as I helped him adjust his seat belt. I had to tell myself I was supposed to be helping the kid come to terms with himself, not showing him the finer points of man-to-man contact. Besides, I had no doubt he already had that last part well in hand, anyway.

We left the city limits soon enough (after all, Quitman isn't THAT big), and headed out in the country. I handed him one of the two beers, and we kept the conversation light. He told me that his name was Tony Moore, and he was indeed eighteen. He asked where I worked, if I was married, etc. and I told him the brief, non-committal version of my life story. By the time we got to where I thought we could stop and talk we knew enough about each other that I felt I could wade out into deeper waters.

I parked my pickup in front of an old house hidden in the woods and turned the lights off. The moon was full, and its pale blue light danced through the gently swaying pines. I undid my seat belt and let the seat back. Tony did the same. We rolled down the windows and let the warm, moist night air into the cab.

"What made you choose this place?" he asked. There was a hint of nervousness in his voice that made me horny. He was expecting me to put the move on him.

"Its just a place. I thought it would be easier to talk if the motor wasn't running," I said, turning in my seat so I could see him better. "What made you decide to ask if we could talk?"

"I don't know." he answered. He was peeling the label off his beer bottle. "You were so...I don't know...maybe I shouldn't have come." He was trembling slightly.

"You're wondering why I stopped that jerk?" He looked at me. The dark made his blue eyes as deep as wells. "I've been there. I know how it feels."

"I'm not gay."

"I didn't say you were. I said I know how it feels to have your secrets exposed in public."

"He had no right to say those things about me! He had no right!" he turned and looked the other way. As his head turned away from me I saw the glint of moonlight reflecting off of his cheek. I hadn't realized he was crying.

"He must have hurt you deeply." He made no reply. >From time to time his shoulders rose and fell with shallow breaths. Emotions are difficult for southern men--even gay ones. "I was seventeen," I said. "It was in my favorite class with my favorite teacher in front of my closest friends. A guy I had been best friends with for ten years called me a faggot to my face. He told everybody within shouting distance that I liked to kiss boys, and that I'd tried to get him to kiss me."

"What did you do?" His back was still to me.

"What can you do when someone you trust rips your heart out? I sat there shocked with embarrassment while the whole class laughed at me." I had to swallow hard to get the lump out of my throat. "And I prayed for someone to come to my rescue. No one did. Not a single one of my `friends' came to my aid. That's why I had to stop that prick. You looked like you needed a couple of prayers answered."

He turned and looked at me. "Was it true? What he said about you? Did you try to kiss him?"

"No." It was my turn to look away now. "Don't get me wrong. I'm gay. I was gay then, and I knew it. That wasn't the point. He was my best friend, but I wasn't in love with him. I had never laid a hand on him, and really, I had no desire to. I had spent the night at his house the weekend before. I woke up in the middle of the night with my dick in his mouth. It took me a while to realize he was giving me a blow job. Hell, I didn't know what to do, so I pushed him off.

"Why?"

I turned to look in the kid's eyes again. Damn, they were deep. "I already had a lover, Tony. Back then I believed in words like `faithfulness' and `honesty'. I needed him for a friend, and sex has a way of ruining friendships." I took a swig of my beer. "Any way, he freaked. I tried to tell him it was OK. I even told him I was gay. He just started calling me a `fruit' and a `faggot'. I guess you could say he didn't take rejection very well."

I put my hand on Tony's shoulder. His skin was smooth and warm. "I don't let any one-- especially some hayseed redneck--call me a faggot, not any more. I may get the crap beat out of me, but at least I can say I stood up to them. My self esteem is more important to me than that."

I withdrew my hand and sat in silence. I hadn't thought of those events in years, much less spoken of them. Here I was sitting in the dark on a warm summer's night with a beautiful young man drumming up ancient history! I can be a real dumbass sometimes.

"Corey's an ass hole," he said quietly.

"Who?"

"Corey, the guy at the restaurant. He's a friend of my brother's. They used to do a lot of shit together, you know, get drunk and stuff. One night Corey was spending the night at our house, and he came into my room. I woke up, and he was on top of me. I tried to get him off, but he was a lot bigger'n me back then. Next thing I know he was corn-holing me."

I hadn't heard anyone call `ass-fucking' `corn-holing' since I was twelve. "What did you do?"

"What could I do? I was thirteen. He was nearly seventeen. He said if I made a sound he'd beat the shit out of me, so I let him finish. After that he kept trying to find reasons to sleep over. At first I tried spending the night at friends houses when I knew he was staying over, but he caught up with me eventually. My dad won't let us put locks on the bedroom doors--he says we got no business doing stuff behind locked doors."

Typical! Heaven forbid you allow your son a guarantee of privacy for an occasional jerk-off, but it's OK to expose him to rape. "So it happened again?"

"Yeah. A few times. Then he stopped."

"What happened?"

"One night he slipped in my room. He started telling me how he loved me and started trying to kiss me. I was ready for him though. I pulled out a butcher knife I had hidden under my pillow, and I told him if he ever came in my room again I'd kill him."

"Let me guess, that was about a year-and-a-half-ago, right?"

"How did you know?"

I closed my eyes and laid my head back against the head-rest. I had pegged ol' Corey pretty well. "Because. That's about when he got married, right? I figure the kid's about six months old, add nine months, and whamo! You've got yourself a blushing bride!"

"That slut? She was the school whore. I bet it ain't even his kid."

My eyes were still closed. I could see all the signs clearly. A dumpy wife--fat and lack-luster-- married to a man much too attractive for her: Obviously, it was a sham marriage. I doubt he'd even had sex with her more than once or twice, if at all. The rage I saw in Corey's eyes wasn't homophobia, but the anger of a lover scorned. He was still in love with this beautiful youth sitting in the seat next to me.

"Can I ask you something?" Tony asked abruptly.

His question shook me back to reality. I opened my eyes and looked at him. "Sure. We've got no secrets."

"What's it like to kiss a guy?"

"That was not the question I expected," I said. He was obviously trying to seduce me. To be honest, it felt good to be seduced even if it was a clumsy attempt.

"I...just...wondered, that's all."

I put my hand on his neck and pulled him to me. Our lips met, but his remained closed. I felt no resistance, but neither was there any move on his part to go any further. "Now you know," I said, pulling away from him. "You tell me. What's it like to kiss a guy?"

He said nothing. We were both facing forward. The moon was directly overhead now, and I felt the pressing urgency to take a piss. I climbed out of the truck and undid my zipper. The night air felt cool on my dick as I pulled it free, and soon I could hear the playful patter of urine splattering on the leaves and grasses at my feet. I heard the other door open and soon heard Tony relieving himself, too.

I heard his footsteps as he walked around the truck. I was still standing there with my dick in my hands, and I felt foolish as I shook off the last drops. It had not been my intention to expose myself, but Tony was looking at my crotch. I casually folded my cock back into my pants and pulled up the zipper. I was careful not to pull it up too fast. I didn't want him to think I was uncomfortable being so near him.

"Feel better now?" I asked as he walked up to me.

"Not really. Why did you kiss me?"

"You wanted to know what it was like to kiss a guy. Some things can't be put into words. You just have to experience it. Why did you keep your mouth closed?"

"I didn't know I was supposed to open it. Can we try again?"

I relaxed and let him take me in his arms. His caresses were timid at first, but grew bolder as he grew accustomed to holding another man in a passionate embrace. He pressed his lips softly against mine. I slowly inserted my tongue in his mouth. Our tongues danced with each other, first in his mouth and then in mine. He experimented with various techniques and angles, and he quickly became an expert kisser. The kid was turning me on and fast. I could feel a growing tension rising up in my crotch, and sweat started running down my back. I wrapped him in my arms and pulled him hard against me. His dick was as hard as a rock and thrusting out against my leg.

"So now what?" I asked, breaking our embrace. Again, Tony didn't answer. He timidly placed a hand on my crotch and began to explore my growing erection. His hand felt warm against my bulging crotch, and it didn't take him long to make the position of my rapidly expanding cock painful.

"You're getting hard," he said flatly.

"Do you like what you feel?"

"I dunno. It's so hot. What does it look like when it's hard?"

"Take it out and see for yourself." I answered.

Tony put both hands on my crotch and gave me a squeeze. It was painful, but at the same time his innocence was making me even hotter. I swallowed hard as I felt him undo my belt. His fingers awkwardly fumbled with the fastener and then pulled down the zipper. He slipped his hands under the waistband and pushed my shorts down around my ankles. I looked down at the comically obscene tent in my briefs. It looked like my hard-on was straining to rip through the cloth. Tony took his thumb and forefinger and traced the outline of my engorged member. He spread his palm out against the head of my dick and gently rubbed it back and fourth. He was getting me close, and I had to fight the urge to shoot off in my underwear.

"It looks so big," he whispered. "I'll bet it's bigger'n mine."

"Why don't you take it out and let's see."

"This don't mean I'm queer or anything."

"No..."

"OK!" Tony reached around my waist and put his hands inside my briefs. His hands toyed with my ass, slowly slipping the band of my underwear down in the back. He never took his gaze off of the bulge in the front. Slowly he lowered the straining waistband. My cock was jerking to be set free. It pushed out against the fly and fought the downward pull of the elastic against its base. Suddenly my prick broke free and slapped hard against my belly. "Oh damn! It's really big," he said.

I felt my underwear fall to the ground. I stepped out of both them and my shorts and stood before this hot young man naked from the waist down. "Is it what you expected? I can take off my shirt, too, if you'd like." My cock was jutting up at a forty-five degree angle from my belly. The head glistened in the moonlight. "Maybe you'd like to touch it."

Tony didn't make a sound. He stood there silently taking in the fullness of my hard-on, and then he shook himself back to reality. His right hand came up almost as if by a will of its own and cupped my balls. He tenderly massaged them, making my dancing cock twitch and jerk all the livelier. Pre-cum was running down my shaft and no doubt down my balls onto his hand, as well. Tony was still staring at my throbbing manhood. His gentle stroking of my ball sack was making my mouth dry. Something about this boy made me want more. He was getting me hotter than I had been in years.

"So, is it bigger than yours?" I asked. I wanted to see his body. I wanted to touch his young dick. I wanted this boy, and I wanted him now!

Tony dropped his hand and stepped back from me. He turned and walked over to the steps and sat down. I pulled my shirt off, picked up my shorts and briefs, and tossed my clothes in the back of the truck. I walked over to where he was and sat down beside him.

"Where's your clothes?" he asked. He was nervous, and it showed in his voice.

"In the truck."

"Someone might see."

"Who's going to see? It's just us, Tony. Just you and me. Does my being naked make you uneasy?"

He was breathing hard. I noticed that his eyes kept running over my body. There were no trees here to obstruct the brilliant moonlight. I had to fight to keep from forcing myself on him. The more he sat there the sexier he got. The more he didn't give in to his desires the more I wanted to force my desires on him. My dick was still begging for Tony's attention as it throbbed and bounced against my stomach.

When he finally spoke it was so soft I barely heard him. "I don't know what to do," he said.

"What would you like to do?" I asked. I sat up and moved close beside him. Our arms were touching. "I'll let you do whatever you'd like." He looked at me. He looked scared--not of me but of his own reactions. "You can call the shots tonight, Tony."

"You're not going to fuck me?" It was as much a declaration as a question.

"Not unless you want me to. We'll do what you'd like to do."

"What if I want you to take me home?"

My nuts were turning blue. "Then we go back to town. You call the shots."

"Take me home."

I stood up and brushed off my ass. I reached down to help him up. Tony paused for a second, then took the proffered hand. His touch sent shivers up my spine. I quickly left him on the steps while I still had enough self-control to resist imposing myself on him. I wasn't sure where this was going, but I didn't think for a minute that we were going back to Quitman anytime soon.

I stopped at the truck door but didn't open it. I heard him slowly walking up behind me, and then I felt his hot breath between my shoulder blades. He was standing close behind me smelling me. His body heat was pulsing over me. I could feel the heat from his hands caressing me as they explored every curve of my back without touching me. He was making love to my body without contact, yet my dick was responding as if he were ravaging me. My whole torso quivered. I could feel his nearness. I could smell his young body. My mind was exploding with the experience of so much sexual appetite hovering so near. I wanted to turn, to rip the clothes off that tight young frame, to spread his legs wide, and ride him until he called out for his mama.

I swallowed hard. He was torturing me. This young master was dominating me as surely as if he were using a whip. And I loved it. I surrendered myself to his desires. I let him stand there, his hands not an inch away from my naked flesh, and I let him have his way. I imagined the raging hardness in his pants desperately straining for freedom and release. I could almost see his eyes close and his lips quivering as he took in the smell of a grown man. I could feel his temperature rising. If anything Tony was more turned on than I was, and I was ready to shoot my load at any moment.

"Turn around," he said. His voice was raspy. I turned and faced him. "Take my shirt off."

I reached down and touched his hips below the hem line of his T-shirt. I slowly raised my hands, caressing his waist as I went up. I felt an electric thrill run through me when my fingers touched his bare skin. I ran my hands behind him and explored his taut back, then brought them far enough forward to allow my thumbs to touch his nipples. They were both fully erect. I stroked them with my thumbs, rubbing them in gentle circles, and toying with the hard pebble at the centers. Tony let out a moan. I took that as my cue and gently raised his shirt off him. He lowered his arms, and I let out a whistle between my teeth. He was a lot better developed than his clothes let on. I placed my hands on his shoulders and let them drift down his chest. I teased his rosebud nipples, allowing my hands to enfold his beautiful pectorals. I slid my palms down to his six-pack stomach. This boy was a hot, tight number.

"Can you kiss me again?" he asked. I slowly moved my hands to his back and pulled him to me. His skin was hot against me. I brought my lips to his and teased him with butterfly kisses. His eyes were closed, and his breathing was getting harder. I ran a hand up to the back of his head and pulled his mouth hard against mine. Tony put his hands on me and began grinding his crotch against mine. I pulled back from the kiss enough for our tongues to play without our lips touching. I continued holding his head in my hands, turned on by his closed eyes. I bit his lower lip, chewing and pulling softly on it. He did the same to me. He was learning fast.

I pulled back. Tony opened his eyes. I snatched him back hard against me and took his earlobe in my mouth. Tony let out a little moan as I bit down. I nibbled and licked his ear, driving him into a frenzy. He started dry-humping me, grinding his very-hard dick against me. He was groaning now in outright passion.

I kissed him again, and this time his eyes were open. I gave him a wicked little smile and slid his shorts down. His cock sprang out and slapped against me. Tony swallowed hard and nodded his consent. I pushed them down around his ankles and kissed him again as he stepped free. We were naked together, just he and I in the moonlight.

"I want to fuck you," he said. I opened the truck and got a rubber out of the glove compartment. I handed it to him. "What's this for?"

"Tomorrow," I said, "but we're gonna use it tonight." I took it out and opened it. I kissed him as I placed it on the tip of his cock. I slowly rolled it down, turning the act of protection into a caress. Tony's body shuddered. I gave him a few tugs, and tightened my grip. I pulled on him and led him to the back of the truck. I popped up the latch on the tail gate and let it down. I laid back.

"Take it slow," I said as I put my legs up on his shoulders. I felt his cock pressed up against my opening. I reached down and pulled his hips to me. His cock pushed me opened, and with a brief spasm of pain he was inside me. Tony just stood there without moving. His eyes were squeezed shut, and from his expression it was obvious he was fighting off an orgasm. I laid back and tried not to move. I relaxed my stomach and the pain of having him inside me subsided.

I opened my eyes. Tony was looking down at me. The moon was behind his head, and the moonlight cast a halo around his head. He slowly withdrew from me until just the head of his prick was still inside me. He pushed forward, and his cock slipped effortlessly up inside my ass. He experimented with the feel of being inside a man, sometimes plunging hard inside me. Other times he barely moved, relishing every sensation of sliding through my tight opening.

I reached up and started playing with his tits. I was fascinated by the musculature of his small frame. He looked so small dressed. Now he stood above me a full-fledged man . I let my hands roam over his taut body as much as our position would allow. Tony's thrust grew more serious. I reached down and started playing with my still erect penis. He brushed my hand away and started jacking me off himself. Faster and faster he thrust up inside me. Faster and faster his fist pumped my swollen dick. I was getting close, and I started clamping my ass muscles around him. Tony's hips pounded into me making slapping noises with each lunge. His cock was plunging inside me like a pile-driver.

My cum was boiling up inside me. I felt as if I was about to shoot my guts out of the head of my dick. The first blast flew over my head and landed on Tony's bike. Blast after blast of my hot, sticky cum poured out on my chest and stomach. Tony let out a yell and thrust his throbbing dick up my ass. He shot the rest of his load inside me, his whole body quivering. He collapsed on top of me. We were both out of breath. Our bodies were covered in sweat and my cum.

Tony kissed my chest. "Thank you," he whispered. In all my encounters with other men, none had ever thanked me. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. And thank you."

Tony shot up. "What time is it?"

"I don't know. Around midnight I should think. Why?"

"I gotta go home! My mom's gonna freak!"

He still lives at home, I told myself. I hadn't even bothered to ask him. I realized I knew very little about this incredible young man. I got up and fished our clothes out of the back of the truck. I pulled on my shorts and threw my underwear and shirt in the cab. Tony followed suit. His baggy shorts road so low on his hips that his pubes were showing. His chest was smeared with my cum, too. "You look a mess," I told him.

"I don't care. It was fun." We climbed in the cab of the truck. "I'd do it again if I had the time." it dawned on him what he had just said, and he gave me a nervous look. "That is, if you'd let me."

"Maybe," I said and cranked the truck. I pulled out onto the deserted road and headed for Quitman. Tony was all questions as we drove back to town. He asked every conceivable question about his performance. In many ways he was a little boy in an extraordinary man's body. "Listen," I said finally, "you were great. That had to be some of the hottest sex of my life. Just remember what you learned tonight and don't be afraid to experiment."

"What did you mean when you put that rubber on my peter?"

"The part about the rubber being for tomorrow?"

"Yeah," Tony answered.

"I'm HIV-negative, and I plan to stay that way. You, however, only have my word that I'm negative. Never, ever put your dick in a man's ass if you aren't wearing a condom. Don't let him stick his in you unless he's wearing one. I don't care how well you think you know him or how long the two of you are together--the rule still applies." He sat quietly thinking over my words. I hadn't meant to preach to him. I get so tired of hearing about AIDS, but I knew a few of its victims. Some of them had even shared my bed. Condoms worked for me, and they were well worth the trouble.

I pulled in the parking lot of the convenience store. It was closed now. Tony opened the door and got out. He reached in the back of the truck and retrieved his cum-splattered bicycle. I thought for a moment he was going to leave without speaking when he showed up at my window.

"Can we do that again sometime?" he asked timidly.

"Do what, talk?" I liked watching him squirm.

"Well, yeah," he said uncomfortably. "But I wanna know if we can do IT again?"

"You mean `Fuck'?"

He blushed. "Yeah. Fuck."

"Maybe. Give me a call."

"Sure!" he said with a big grin. He took the bundle of clothes in his hand and wiped the sweat and dried cum off his chest as best he could. "I gotta go. Bye!"

And he was off. It occurred to me that he had said `corn-holing' earlier in the evening. Now he was calling it `fucking'. He was one step closer to being a man.

He also snuck off with my underwear.