The following contains scenes of sexual activity between males. If it is illegal for you to read this in your jurisdiction or if you feel you may be offended by doing so, please read no further. The characters portrayed in this story may engage in behaviors that would today be considered unwise and unsafe. The author does not encourage such behavior: nor does he condone the violation of any laws. Please respect yourself and your partners. Please do not copy or distribute this story without the knowledge or permission of the author.
    If you would like to read other works by me, go to the Nifty Home Page and click on the FreeThinker link under  Prolific Authors.  All characters in the story are fictional and any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. This is fiction and a fantasy. It did not happen.

    Any use of racial epithets is not intended to be offensive in any way, but is used to show the state of mind of the character using them. The author rejects all forms of bigotry and racism, as the story will show.
    This chapter also shows characters engaged in illegal drug use. The author does not approve of chemical abuse and the story will eventually show this.

    I would like to know what you think. If you have any comments or suggestions, please email them to my new address:
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    Thank you so much for reading my story and for the wonderful support you have given me over the last three years. Special thanks to Bill L for his special help.

   I have had to discontinue my blog due to problems with a hacker and spammers. I will let you know if and when it resumes.

Courage and Passion
By FreeThinker

“The school-boy, above all others, is not the simple being the world imagines. In that young bosom, are often stirring passions as strong as our own, desires not less violent, a volition not less supreme. In that young bosom, what burning love, what intense ambition, what avarice, what lust of power, envy that fiends might emulate, hate that men might fear.”
Benjamin Disraeli, British Prime Minister and novelist, Coningsby, 1844

Chapter Ten
In Which the Past and Future Collide with Consequences for All

    “Excellent! Excellent!”
    Zhenya leaned back in his chair and relaxed as he watched Dr. Levin give the Youth Symphony a rare smile. The conductor even looked directly at Zhenya and nodded.
    “You have all done quite well, today. I am very proud of you. I believe that Saturday’s concert will be a brilliant success. Practice the Dvorak tonight and we will work on it again tomorrow. You may go.”
    Ian waited until Dr. Levin had left the practice room to speak.
    “Well, I guess Mrs. Levin must have put out over the weekend.”
    Zhenya looked at the teenager curiously.
    “What would she put out that would make Dr. Levin happier today?”
    Ian looked down at the boy’s curious face and grinned.
    “You know, sometimes, Zhenya, you’re so cute I want to just…”
    He stopped as he realized others in the string section might overhear. He reached under his seat for his case as Zhenya blushed and smiled.
    “So, where is Thad, today?” he asked as he, too, reached for his case.
    “I don’t know. He told me at school that he didn’t need a ride. He didn’t look sick or anything. I’ll stop by his place on the way home.”
    As they put their coats on and picked up their instruments, Ian said, “You know there’s a party after the concert?”
    “Is there?” Zhenya replied. “I did not know. Dr. Levin has not said anything.
    They stepped off the riser and headed for the door.
    “Yeah. Well, it’s not really an official party. Some of the people behind the Symphony always throw a special party for the contributors and they always invite a few special players. Like me.”
    Zhenya followed him out the door and into the hallway. He noticed Ian looking at him out of the corner of his eye.
    “You are excellent violinist,” said Zhenya. “    You deserve to go to special party.”
    Ian smiled.
    “Well, Zhenya, you’re special, too, and I’ve been told to invite you to the party. But, we can’t talk about it much around the other players because they don’t invite everyone.”
    They entered the lobby of Schaumberg Hall and headed toward the great front doors.
    “Dr. Levin will be there?” Zhenya asked.
    “Oh, yeah. They have to invite him.”
    “It is snowing,” Zhenya remarked as they walked outside.
    “Romantic isn’t it?” Ian said suggestively, causing Zhenya to blush again. “Look at the gazebo over there. Doesn’t that kind of remind you of that scene Dmitri writes about with Tolyenka in the garden?”
    Zhenya stopped and looked, a smile forming on his face. When he looked back at Ian, the teenager saw they joy in the boy’s face. Quickly, Ian looked away as an unpleasant and unfamiliar emotion crept upward through his mental defenses, a feeling which he feared might be shame. However, just as quickly as he became aware of it, he suppressed it and changed the subject.
    “So, um, did your friends say anything to you about the Halloween party?”
    Zhenya hurried to catch up with Ian as he entered the parking lot. Giant, wet flakes of snow were drifting downward, tickling Zhenya’s nose and cheeks as he tried to run toward Ian’s Cutlass.
    “Ethan asked if I had fun, but that’s all.”
    Ian pointedly did not look at Zhenya as he unlocked the passenger door for him. When the boy had climbed in and was situated with his book bag and violin case in his lap, he closed the door and sighed with relief as he walked around the front of the car. Once he had opened his own door, set his violin case in the back, and climbed in, Zhenya added, “Sean was not at school today. Robby and Ethan were worried about him. They worry he is ill.”
    As Ian started the car and pulled out of the space, he said caustically, “Maybe that white trash friend of his made him sick.”
    Zhenya was not familiar with the term, “white trash.” In his experience, the “Whites” were the counter-revolutionaries who had fought the Bolsheviks after the October Revolution on 1917. He doubted that was what Ian was referring to, but he knew it was insulting and degrading from the scorn and contempt in his voice as he spoke. It bothered Zhenya, because he liked Sean.
    “Matt is very nice boy. He is Sean’s defender at school and his friend.”
    Ian suddenly became exasperated.
    “Would you please say “a” and “the?” Matt is a very nice boy. And, no he isn’t. He’s a clod.”
    Zhenya was stunned by Ian’s sudden outburst. He had never shown such impatience with Zhenya or such intolerance for his errors in speaking English. He looked in open-mouthed shock at the teenager as Ian irritably whipped the car out onto 15th St, sliding on the slick pavement as he did.
    Ian immediately caught himself, realizing that Zhenya was more fragile than the usual victims of his sharp tongue. He sighed and reached over to the boy, taking his hand and squeezing it as he stopped in the left-turn lane at Providence. An ambulance roared through the intersection, undoubtedly heading to the hospital after a snow-induced accident downtown, its siren causing Zhenya to flinch even more.
    “Zhenyechka,” Ian muttered as he squeezed the boy’s hand. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. I’ve had a rough day.”
    Zhenya smiled cautiously.
    “That is groovy. I understand.”
    The light changed and as Ian slowly pulled out onto Providence, he smiled.
    “Actually, Zhenka, I don’t think you should say ‘groovy’ anymore.”
    Zhenya grinned.
    “Far out. I will try not to.”
    The rest of the drive to Zhenya’s house was more relaxed, but as Ian pulled into the driveway and saw Dr. Koronov’s Volkswagen, he sighed. He had been hoping for a few minutes alone with the boy, but he realized it was not to be.
    “You have time to come in and tell Papa about the party Saturday?”
    Ian squeezed the boy’s hand, knowing he wouldn’t be able to inside, and nodded with a smile.
    “Take off your coat, Ian!” Zhenya’s father declared as the boys stood in the foyer. “We must talk.”
    As they entered the living room, Zhenya almost jumped up and down.
    “Papa, there will be grand party after symphony Saturday night! The people who donate money to symphony are having party and we are invited!”
    His father smiled.
    “That is wonderful, Zhenka. I think that is excellent news. And, I am sure you and Ian will have a wonderful time there.”
    “But, Papa, you can come, too. Ian, Papa can come to party?”
    “Sure,” Ian answered, hoping his lack of enthusiasm was not too obvious.
    “Well, Ian, this is what I would like to talk about with you. You see, Zhenka, I have been invited to speak at a dinner on Saturday night at the university in Williamstown.”
    “But, Papa, it is our first concert! You have to come!”
    Dr. Koronov put his arm around his son and hugged him.
    “I know how much this means to you, Zhenka, and I would not miss your concert if this was not important. But, my publisher says I must be there because they are about to release a new volume of my plays in English and the university is giving me an award. It would be ungrateful of me to decline their invitation. But, I will see your Christmas concert and your great solo in February!”
    Zhenya leaned into his father and looked downcast. Ian thought the boy was about to cry. He couldn’t imagine the kid was that close to his father. He would have to remember that; it could be useful in the future.
    “Zhenka, I think you will like my other news, though. I have spoken to Ian’s father at college, today, and he says that if Ian does not object, you are to spend the night at the Norths’ house Saturday night. Would you like that?”
    Zhenya pulled away and looked up at his father in shock and joy. Ian was momentarily speechless. If he could, he would have run over and kissed Dr. Koronov on the mouth. He couldn’t have asked for a better situation!
    “Ian! Ian! I can spend Saturday night with you!”
    With a huge grin on his face, (and a hand jammed into the pocket of his slacks), “That’s wonderful! It’ll be a terrific night! We’ll have a great dinner, a great concert, and wonderful party, and, well, it’ll be loads of fun!”
    Their eyes met and Zhenya felt a thrill as he looked up at his hero.
    Ian was rock hard as he drove home. He could barely contain himself as he peered through the falling snow. He had two reasons now to talk with Thad. Well, maybe three. Thad might be able to help with a little, no, big problem!
    Ian’s parents were out for the evening when he arrived at the big house several blocks east of Thad’s and Ethan’s by Lake Windermere. The maid was just serving his siblings their dinner in the kitchen as he arrived.
    “You’re late, Ian,” she said admonishingly.
    “So what,” he replied insolently as he picked up the receiver of the kitchen phone. He was dialing Thad’s number and becoming impatient with the slow speed of the dial as it seemed to creep back around,
    “You know your Mother has told you to be home at six on school nights.”
    “Well, she’s not here and you’re not her, so just shut the Hell up.”
    Before the maid could admonish him for his rudeness, he said into the phone, “Is Thad there? Can I talk to him? Yeah. Hey! Where the fuck were you today?”
    The maid set her jaw in fury and stormed out of the kitchen as his younger brothers and sister giggled. They thought Ian was cool and wanted to be just like him, she thought to herself. Well, God help his parents, they were going to be.
    “What the fuck you mean you’re quitting? You’re not quitting. No, you’re not. No, you’re NOT!”
    Ian was not accustomed to people not acquiescing to his will and he certainly wasn’t accustomed to Thad not doing so.
    “Well, we’ll talk tomorrow at school. Anyway, I got news for you. Zhenya’s dad is going to be out of town Saturday night. Yeah! Which means that, after the party, guess who gets to spend the night here. Yep. What do mean that’s not a good idea? This is exactly what I’ve been trying to set up! This is perfect! Man, what’s the matter with you, all of a sudden? Yeah, well, we’re going to have a talk tomorrow and I’m going to set you straight on some shit. Well, anyway, I’m coming over later. I need a little help with something. Oh, Hell, the snow’s not that bad. Jesus, it’s only two blocks! What do you mean, they don’t want me to come over tonight?”
    Ian’s brothers both raised eyebrows, knowing one, or possibly both, of them would be pressed into duty as a substitute for the delinquent Thad; and, knowing Ian’s frequent ill-temper, neither was certain it was going to be much fun.


    Robby and Ethan were approaching Social Studies as they noticed Sean coming toward them from the opposite direction bundled up in his winter things, carrying his flute and book bag. His eyes were cast downward and he was watching only the feet of those around him.
    “Sean!” Robby declared as he put an arm around the boy’s shoulder. “How are you doing, today?”
    Ethan stood in front of him and gave him a warm smile. Sean looked up cautiously for just a moment andquickly replied, “I’m fine. Um, I gotta hurry. I’m almost late.”
    “Um, sure,” said Ethan moving to the side. Sean hurried past, his eyes still downcast. Robby frowned. He and Ethan slowly moved through the door and took their seats. Zhenya soon followed and just as the bell rang, Sean walked in. Mr. Osborn looked up from his notes as he stood behind the lectern, but he only watched Sean as he moved to his desk in the back of the room. He commenced the roll call and just as he came to Matt, the teenager entered the door carrying his book and the cheap and tattered spiral that substituted for his notebook. He was wearing the same plaid flannel shirt as the day before and his right hand was jammed into his jeans pocket once again as he clomped down the aisle to his desk. He seemed to hesitate when he saw Sean. Robby noted that he slowed just a bit, but continued on until he collapsed in his seat. He scooted his butt forward, slouching backward, resting his cheek on his fist. As Mr. Osborn ignored Matt, the teenager looked out of the corner of his eye to his side. Robby watched as Sean’s face, stunningly, looked firmly ahead, a hard and unyielding cast to it. His jaw was set and his eyes were locked on the teacher.
    Finally, Matt turned his head.
    “Hey,” he whispered.
    It was not possible for Sean to have not heard him, but the boy remained unmoving. Matt raised an eyebrow.
    “Hey, Sean,” he whispered a bit louder.
    Slowly, Sean turned a cold face toward Matt. His eyes told the teenager everything. He then turned back to Mr. Osborn as an audio-visual guy entered the room with a movie projector. He pushed it to the back as Mr. Osborn discussed “The Responsibilities of Citizenship.”
    “Sean,” Matt tried again,” what’s up?”
    The boy turned an icy face toward Matt again and said in loud whisper, “Leave me alone.”
    “Is there a problem, Mr. Lindquist?” asked the teacher as he turned back toward the class.
    “No, sir,” Sean replied with a firmness others were unaccustomed to hearing in his voice. The teacher’s eyes held Matt’s for a moment and then he continued speaking. Matt scowled and slouched further down in his seat.
    After class, Sean made it perfectly clear he was in no mood to speak to anybody as he stood purposefully and strode out the door. Ethan and Robby both looked at each other with raised eyebrows. Robby glanced back at Matt and saw him slowly and sullenly heave himself up from his seat. He avoided both boys as he lumbered out of the room.
    In French, Sean was all business with Zhenya when they were told to pair up with their study partners and work on the day’s assignment. Robby was nearly beside himself with curiosity, but Ethan seemed more in control. He kept Robby focused on conjugating and when the class was over, neither tried to speak as Sean, once again, marched from the room.
    Third Period English and Fourth Period Science saw repeats of the strange behavior, with one exception. In Science, when the class lined up to go to lunch, Sean handed a piece of paper to the teacher and exited the line as it was passing the front door. He stopped at his locker and pulled his coat out as the class continued on to the cafeteria.
    When they left the cashier, Robby and Ethan both looked for Matt, but couldn’t find him.
    “I am worried about Sean,” said Zhenya as the three found seats in the corner. “He does not act like Sean.”
    “Yeah,” said Robby. “He looks like he has a backbone.”
    “It’s strange,” said Ethan. “This morning in the hall, he was cowering and frightened and then, when Matt entered the room, he suddenly changed.
    “Have Sean and Matt had a disagreement?” Zhenya asked.
    Neither Robby nor Ethan felt they could say anything, but Ethan gave Robby a significant look and darted his eyes toward Zhenya. He then turned to Zhenya and said, “I don’t know about that, but there’s something I was kind of hoping to talk to you about, Zhenya.”
    The Russian boy looked at him with worry. The tone of Ethan’s voice was unusual, so serious for such a serene boy.
    “Is there a problem?” Zhenya asked with a frown.
    Ethan paused and licked his lips hesitantly, something else neither Zhenya nor Robby had seen him do.
    “Zhenya, I think that Ian might not be as good a friend as you think he is.”
    Zhenya opened his eyes in surprise.
    “Ya nye pon… I do not understand. Shto?”
    Robby was looking at Ethan with worry and curiosity. They hadn’t discussed this and he was worried about what Ethan was doing.
    “ I just think,” Ethan said slowly, “that you should watch Ian and try not to trust him too much until you are certain. It’s possible he might not be what he seems to be.”
    “You are saying he is someone else?”
    “No, no.” Ethan sighed. “I’m saying that you should just be careful and not let your guard down. Just… try not to let Ian hurt you.”
    Zhenya looked shocked.
    “Ian would never hurt me! Ian moy priyatyil! On moy droog! On lyubit menya!”
    Ethan looked surprised at Zhenya’s outburst. He turned to Robby, who was equally surprised.
    “Look, Zhenya, Ethan’s not trying to…”
    “Nyet! Vuii nyepravuii! On khorosh!”
    Ethan held a hand up.
    “Hold on, Zhenya. Please. We don’t speak Russian.”
    Zhenya frowned in frustration and took several breaths before replying slowly.
    “Ian is my friend. You are… how you say pyevneevuii? Jealous. You are jealous.”
    Zhenya was quiet for the rest of the lunch and Robby and Ethan were both afraid to say anything further.
    The day became even more strange in Fifth Period Gym. Robby and Ethan were dressing in their separate areas of the locker room. Zhenya was sitting next to Sean as he was trying his gym shoes when Matt slowly came up to him. He put a hand on his shoulder and when Sean looked up, he paused for a second as his eyes locked on Matt’s before he jerked away.
    “Look, Sean, can I talk to you?”
    Sean leaned down to tie his other shoe.
    “Go away. Leave me alone.”
    “Come on, Sean,” Matt said with asperity. “I want to talk to you!”
    Sean stood and looked Matt in the eye. Several people turned too watch. Sean was standing straight and firm.
    “No! Get away from me. Now.”
    No one within hearing distance had ever heard anyone speak to Matt Hunter in that way. Matt’s eyes grew wide and his jaw was set. Everyone expected to see Sean laying on the floor in a couple of seconds with blood pouring from his nose. Instead, Matt slowly turned and walked away.
    “What the fuck?” someone muttered. Robby watched several guys look at each other in shock. A minute later, as Robby and Ethan were walking into the gym, the incident was all they could hear the others discussing.
    “Did you see the way Linqueer stood up to Hunter?”
    “Man, you should have seen it. Lindquist just mouthed off to Matt Hunter! And, Hunter just took it and walked away!”
    “Hunter’ll kick his ass after school. He’s just waiting.”
    After the calisthenics, the boys divided up again to spot the trampolines. By coincidence, Sean and Matt were both assigned to the same trampoline, one near the door to the locker room. The two were on opposite sides and several guys were watching in hopes of seeing some fireworks.
    When it was Matt’s turn to jump, he seemed to do so without much spirit. Robby and Ethan were spotting on the next trampoline over and as Jason Huffnagle was jumping, Robby was able to watch Matt. He had to admit that Matt was kind of hot as his longish hair flew into the air at the top of each jump. As his arms rose and fell beside him and his shorts opened in the flow of air around him, Matt looked particularly cute. Robby looked over at Ethan and saw his eyes glued on Matt, as well, but with a strange intensity. When he looked at Robby, a momentary flash of guilt crossed his face before he quickly looked up at Jason.
    Matt was facing Sean as he jumped and his eyes seemed to stare at the boy as he rose and fell, something not unnoticed by the other boys around the trampoline. It’s meaning, however, was lost to them.
    As the boys headed to the showers, Matt maneuvered behind Sean and followed him into the locker room. Sean ignored him and went to his bench to remove his gym clothes. When he was naked, he walked purposefully into the showers. By the time he was under one of the steaming shower heads, Matt was entering. A seventh grader made the mistake of chuckling and announcing, “Look! Hunter’s boning!”
    Robby was right behind Matt and heard the comment. Indeed, Matt’s cock was getting fat and arcing outward. A naked Sean was directly in front of him and, for once, was NOT hard in the shower. Their eyes met for the briefest of moments before Sean turned. He did not, therefore see Matt turn and punch the offending seventh grader in the gut, sending the boy down to his knees. Reassured that Matt Hunter was still a hard-ass, the other boys in the shower pretended not to see anything and went about their ablutions with studied indifference.
    “The whole world is crazy,” Ethan said to Robby as they walked to Seventh Period Orchestra. Robby ignored him as they came to the stairs and Ethan continued.
    “Sean’s standing up to Matt. Matt’s getting hard in the shower and punching guys out. Man.”
    Robby looked at Ethan as the reached the second floor.
    “I’m surprised you weren’t hard in the shower, the way you were drooling over Matt on the trampoline,” he said acidly.
    “What are you talking about?” Ethan said with shock.
    “Don’t pretend, Ethan. I saw you. And, I saw that guilty look on your face when you saw me looking at you.”
    “I wasn’t… well, so what. I can look. I’m not dead, for Pete’s sake. Besides, you’ve said that Matt’s hot. Don’t you look?”
    “That’s different.”
    “What?! How?”
    “Well, I don’t stand there and drool. I mean, people notice stuff. But, that doesn’t mean they stand and bone.”
    “I wasn’t boning. Besides, you just admitted that I wasn’t boned.”
    “Yeah, well maybe not by the time you got to the shower.”
    They came to the Orchestra room and Ethan showed the first exasperation Robby had ever seen in him.
    “I don’t believe this. First, Sean’s torqued at Matt. Then, Zhenya’s torqued at me. Then Matt punches Nelson in the shower. Now, you’re torqued at me. Man, there is some seriously negative energy in this building today.”
    They were in the storage room. As Robby picked up his violin case, he looked at Ethan and spat, “Why don’t you meditate about it.”
    It was as if Robby had slapped him. Ethan was genuinely hurt. As Robby turned and walked away, Ethan felt something he hadn’t in a long time. Tears were almost forming in his eyes. He picked up his violin and slowly followed Robby out to the orchestra.
    In between pieces, as Mr. Stern was speaking to the woodwinds, Robby leaned over to the unusually quiet Zhenya and whispered, “I’m really sorry, Zhenya. We didn’t mean to hurt your feelings or make you mad. You’re our friend. You’re my friend.”
    Zhenya looked at Robby and their eyes met. For a long moment, they looked at each other. Then, suddenly, his face flushed, Zhenya looked down.
    “I know. I am sorry. I know you worry for me. But, Ian is my very good friend and he helps me much and… You are my friend, too, Rrrobby.”
    Robby smiled.
    “I love the way you trill the ‘r’ in my name sometimes. It sounds so cool.”
    Zhenya smiled bashfully.
    “You and Ethan should not be angry to each other. Ethan is your special friend.”
    Robby looked at Zhenya as the boy looked ahead carefully at Mr. Stern. How much did Zhenya know? What did he mean by “special friend?” Did he know that Robby and Ethan were boyfriends?
    After school, as Robby and Ethan stood at their respective lockers pulling on their coats and stuffing their backpacks with books, Robby was about to apologize to Ethan, who had remained quiet and left Robby alone. However, just as he was about to speak, Matt came by on his way to his locker. He stopped at Sean’s. The boy was intent on stuffing books into his bag and didn’t notice Matt until the teenager spoke his name. He set his mouth in a furious scowl.
    “Sean, I have to talk to you, man! What the fuck’s the deal?”
    Sean said nothing, but suddenly raised his knee into Matt’s groin. The only sound from his mouth was an agonized “ooof” as he sank to his knees, clutching his abdomen and gasping painfully for breath.
    Robby’s mouth fell open and Ethan’s eyes opened wide in amazement. Everyone in the vicinity stopped and stared at the site of Sean Lindquist standing bravely over the slumping figure of Matt Hunter before him.
    “I told you to leave me alone.”
    With that, as Matt continued to slump on his knees, catching his breath, Sean turned, zipped up his book bag, pulled his coat out of the locker and closed the door. Without a word and ignoring the teenager on the floor before him, he donned his coat and calmly walked away. Robby hurried to Matt’s side and knelt beside him to assist him in standing. Matt angrily pushed him aside and slowly stood on his own. Jack Purvis came up to him, laughing hysterically.
    “Hunter, you let that pussy Linqueer rack ya?”
    In less than a second, Purvis was flying backwards as blood spurted from his nose. He landed against the lockers opposite and slumped to the floor as Matt stomped to his locker, spun the dial, opened the door, removed his coat and slammed the door shut. He was marching furiously toward the lobby as Mr. Huber was approaching, confident that Purvis’ lack of popularity would insure that no one told the principal who was responsible for the bloody nose.
    Outside, Robby watched Zhenya climb into Ian’s Cutlass and Ethan walking alone up 18th St. He stood for a moment and slowly trudged north across the street and up Sycamore to his house.
    The sidewalks were mostly clear of snow, but they were wet and icy. He slipped a couple of times, but recovered. He was not prepared, however, for the sight that greeted him as he approached his house. Frank’s Pontiac was parked in the driveway at the side of the house. His heart sank. That was all he needed now.
    He trudged around to the back of the house and entered the back door. He slipped his shoes off and left them in the mudroom before slipping into the kitchen. He heard voices in the living room. There was no way to slip upstairs without being noticed.
    Frank was sitting on the floor of the living room with Brian playing checkers as Megan watched a Baby Huey cartoon on the television and his mother thumbed through a Look magazine.
    “Hey! There he is!” Frank declared with his hearty voice. “Put your things down, Sport, and join the fun!”
    “Is the Grill closed today?” Robby asked as he remained in he doorway.
    “No. I’m only open for breakfast and lunch. I thought I’d drop by after I closed up and spend a little time with my new family.”
    Robby smiled politely.
    “Well, I’ve got a lot of homework to do and I need to practice for the Thanksgiving concert at school.”
    He turned, but Frank said, “Oh, come on. What kind of kid would rather do homework than play a good, hard game of checkers?”
    “Robby,” said Brian contemptuously. “He never leaves his room.”
    “I used to,” Robby declared as he started up the stairs.
    He couldn’t hear the sneering reply of his brother, but it didn’t matter. When he entered his sanctuary, he dropped his backpack and violin beside his desk and fell onto his bed. He lay for several minutes staring at the ceiling before finally rousing himself to remove his coat. He pulled his chair out from the desk, removed his violin from the case and after tuning and warming up, began to play his improvisation of “The Dance of the Wolves.” With his eyes closed, he saw himself on stage at Carnegie Hall as the audience sat enraptured by his sensitive and insightful performance. Midway through the piece, he stood, his hair falling across his forehead as played his heart out.
    There was a knock on the door. He stopped, almost panting.
    His mother opened the door.
    “Can you please do that later? We’re trying to have a good time down there and we don’t need to listen to your screeching on that damn thing. It’s driving Frank crazy.”
    Robby looked at her in awe.
    “I’m… I have to… play.”
    His mother sighed in exasperation.
    “Well, maybe after dinner, if you can’t come down and be part of the family.”
    She closed the door hard and Robby could hear her storming down the hall to the stairs. Carefully, he placed his violin and the bow back in the case. He looked down at his backpack for a moment, but then turned his back to it and went to his bed. He collapsed face down and began to beat his pillow in fury and frustration. After a moment, panting and sweating, he pulled the pillow to him and clutched it. Memories of his old life in Austin, of riding his bike with his friends to Pease Park, climbing Mt. Bonnell with his Dad and looking out over the Hill Country to the west, swimming in Barton Springs, watching the bats at sunset come flying out from under the Congress Avenue bridge, walking amidst a cloud of fireflies on a summer night on the grounds of the Capitol.
    He needed a hug. He needed to get out of the house and get a hug. And, with a shock, he realized it was Zhenya and not Ethan whom he was thinking of.


    The trampolines had been dismantled and removed from the gymnasium Wednesday, and after calisthenics, Coach told everyone to form teams for basketball. Robby watched as Matt seemed to wander lethargically around the periphery of the boys. Sean was still exhibiting his new “firmness,” standing to the side with his jaw set and his fists clenched, as if waiting to fight. During Homeroom, when he was seated beside Matt, he never looked at or acknowledged him. Matt, was subdued and never attempted conversation with Sean. He left him completely alone. During lunch, Sean sat by himself and refused an invitation from Zhenya to join them at their own table. Instead. He sat at the end of a long table of seventh grade girls, three seats away from the giggles and chatter. Robby had given up on trying to make him speak. And, Ethan, seemed peeved at him. He was quiet and proper, but wouldn’t make any effort at conversation.
    When the teams had been selected, the boys divided up and began to play. Robby, Zhenya, and Sean found themselves on the “Shirts,” while Ethan and Matt were “Skins.” Robby and Zhenya were getting into the spirit of the game, running around and blocking. Robby even found himself with ball for a few seconds before he was forced to pass it. He watched Matt go through the motions of playing basketball with no enthusiasm. Several times, he saw Ethan watching Matt, his eyes seeming to roam over Matt’s shirtless torso. Robby bit his lip. He, too, had been guilty of looking Matt’s torso over. He was definitely hot for thirteen, with pecs and abs and strong arms; not overly muscled. But, he was hot. Once, his eyes met Ethan’s and he looked at his boyfriend coolly. Ethan frowned and ran onward.
    At one point, for some strange and unfathomable reason, Jason Huffnagle, a “shirt,” had the ball and passed it Sean, the only person open near the basket. Sean seemed stunned, but caught the ball and was turning toward the basket to shoot when he was intentionally fowled by Gavin Dietrich, a “skin.” Gavin and Biff both broke into grins and Sean went sliding across the floor. What happened next was completely unexpected.
    Sean lay on the floor on his back, looking up at the laughing bullies. Slowly he stood and walked over to Gavin, who was laughing too hard to pay much attention. That was his mistake. Sean, not accustomed to fighting, but furious nonetheless, threw a punch at Gavin’s face, knocking the kid down. Everyone stopped in their tracks, eyes and mouths open in shock as Sean jumped on him and began to wildly hit the bully anyplace he could. Dietrich was too surprised, at first, to fight back, but soon regained his wits and slugged Sean in the stomach, sending him to his knees. But, it was only for a moment. In an instant, he was on his feet again.
    Zhenya and Ethan were holding Matt back.
    “No, Matt. No,” said Ethan. “This is Sean’s fight. He needs this. Sean needs to do this himself!”
    Jason and several eighth graders were holding Gavin back as Robby and Zac Melville held Sean back. Sean was wild, furiously struggling to escape Robby and Zac, snarling lividly at Gavin.
    “You’re crazy, you fuckin’ faggot!” Gavin screamed. “just like your faggot grandfather!”
    Suddenly, the entire gym was quiet. No one spoke a word.
    “What are saying about my grandfather?” Sean demanded as he panted between Robby and Zac.
    “He’s fuckin’ crazy! That’s what I’m saying! And, he’s a faggot! My great grandfather was the judge who committed him to the loony bin! Didn’t you know?”
    Gavin grinned maliciously as Sean looked on his shock.
    “Your grandfather’s a faggot and he was in the Insane Asylum!”
    Sean became crazed.
    “I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you!” he screamed as he struggled. Several boys came to Robby’s and Zac’s aid as they struggled to hold him. Gavin laughed until Jason threw him backward on the floor. He stood over him and glared down at the bully.
    “You’re a shit, Dietrich. A real shit.”
     Jason Huffnagle was one of the few people in Sheffield who could say something of that nature to Gavin Dietrich without fear of reprisal. Gavin said nothing; he merely looked up at Jason with contempt.
    Coach was standing in the doorway.
    Sean finally stopped struggling. There were tears of fury in his eyes as he turned.
    “Hit the shower,” Coach said softly.
    Struggling for breath, Sean’s shoulders sank. Robby and Zac released him and he slowly trudged to the locker room.
    “Dietrich,” Coach said, his voice dripping with contempt. “My office. Now.”
    The coach turned and disappeared behind his door, but as Gavin struggled up and attempted to rescue what dignity he could, Matt walked over and blocked his way.
    “Hunter,” said Jason in a warning voice.
    Matt waived at him as his eyes locked on Gavin’s.
    “One of these days, when you don’t expect it, when you’re alone, I’m gonna beat the Holy fuckin’ shit outta you. That’s a fuckin’ promise.”
    “Yeah?” Gavin sneered, attempting to sound brave. But, Matt’s eyes were still locked on his and his bravado seemed to dissolve.
    Matt stood for a moment longer to let the message sink in and then stood aside to let him pass. No one said a word as Gavin walked to the door and closed it. Biff LaFrance, not always the most intelligent and perceptive of bullies, approached Matt and sneered, “Is Linqueer your fuckboy?”
    A second later, he was on his knees clutching his stomach in agony. No one made a move to help him or to stop Matt as he walked away.


    Ethan did not enter the Orchestra room until the moment the bell for Seventh Period rang. He had tried to find Sean when the game ended, looking throughout the locker room. He stopped at the office on the way to Orchestra, but the woman behind the counter refused to give him any information. He looked at the flute section and saw he wasn’t there. His eyes met Robby’s, but his friend still seemed cold and distant.
    “Mr. Spenser,” said Mr. Stern. “Do you plan to join us or are you simply going to stand before us for the class to admire?”
    With unaccustomed embarrassment, Ethan turned and climbed the risers to the storage room to retrieve his violin. His only satisfaction as he made his way through the brass and woodwinds to his seat in the center of the strings was that Gavin Dietrich was missing from the trumpets.
    Throughout the class, Ethan kept looking toward Robby, who was ignoring him. He did notice, however, that Zhenya gave him a sympathetic smile occasionally, but it didn’t help.
    “Mr. Spenser,” barked Mr. Stern at one point toward the end of the period. They were playing the overture from Rogers’ and Hammerstein’s Cinderella and everyone, including Mr. Stern, were becoming impatient with it. “Where is your mind? Why are you late at that point every single time? You are half a beat behind. Please! Pay attention.”
    Ethan looked down at his music. There was snickering from behind him. He didn’t care about that, but he hated for Robby to see this. He wanted Robby to be proud of him and now, when Robby was so inexplicably cold and irritated with him, it was even more important.
    The rest of the period went by without incident and when the final bell rang, Ethan eagerly put his violin away in its case and hurried toward the door to meet Robby.
    His friend looked faintly irritated as he called him name. Robby waited until Ethan caught up with him.
    “Robby, can we talk?” Zhenya diplomatically squeezed Robby’s arm and walked on, leaving the two together. Robby sighed.
    “What do you want?”
    “Robby, man, I don’t know what’s going on. I don’t know why you’re so upset with me. What’s going on?”
    “Well, if you’re lonely, why don’t you go see your friend Matt.”
    Ethan looked at him as if he were crazy.
    “What are you talking about?”
    Robby looked at him with a withering look of contempt.
    “You were drooling over Matt again today in gym.”
    Ethan was exasperated.
    “I don’t believe this. This is stupid! I… I just looked at him. I don’t want to do it with him.”
    He pulled Robby aside and whispered, “Robby, you’re my boyfriend! I don’t want Matt. I want you. Come over, OK? I’ll show you. Please.”
    Robby looked down and sighed.
    “Robby, what’s wrong? That’s not what’s bothering you. What is it?”
    Robby looked off.
    “Everything’s just so… “
    He couldn’t finish. He just shook his head and walked on. As he turned onto the stairway, Ethan hurried over to him.
    “Robby, talk to me. Talk to me!”
    The boy continued down the stairs and into the main hallway. Ethan gave up. Slowly, he followed. By the time he arrived at his locker, Robby was already walking away with his coat toward the lobby and the front door. Neither said good-bye.
    After getting his books and coat, Ethan slowly walked to the front door. Standing outside at the top of the steps, he looked outward and saw Zhenya climbing into Ian’s Cutlass across the street and Robby, half a block away, turning into his front yard. But, what really caught his eye was the sight of Matt Hunter standing forlornly on the sidewalk in front of Sean’s house across the street from the school. The temperature was below freezing, but he wore only his thin coat and it was unzipped. He stood, his shoulders slumped, staring at the front door. Ethan started to walk down the steps, intending to speak to him, but just at that moment, Matt slowly turned and began to walk dejectedly up Sycamore.
    Ethan followed. He didn’t know why, but he walked across the school grounds, crossed 18th St. and followed Matt, a block behind him.
    He could see the teenager didn’t seem to be in a hurry. His head was bowed and he seemed not to look around as he slowly walked up the street. A north wind sent a chill through Ethan as he glanced up at the gray sky which was threatening snow. There was something so sad about the whole scene, the cold, the clouds, the dirty snow, the sad and lonely boy walking up the street. Ethan had never felt so empty, so sad.
    As Ethan crossed 16th St., he saw Matt walk across to the left side of Sycamore and enter an alley. When he disappeared behind the house at the edge of the alley, Ethan ran forward, encumbered by his backpack and violin. When he reached the alley, he saw Matt turn and begin climbing a fire escape. Was that where he lived? Ethan knew it was above Chelsea Corner, a combination record store and head shop that catered to the college students from across the street. Because of the drug paraphernalia sold there, his mother never allowed him to visit. Of course, he had never allowed that to stop him; it had the best selection of music in Sheffield.
    He stood in the alley, surrounded by the filthy slush and the overflowing trash containers and the feeling of emptiness overwhelmed him.
    Ethan remembered little about the walk home, only that he realized he was walking past the lake in front of his house before he knew it. He sat in his room until dinner and spoke little as he ate the baked chicken and potatoes. He answered his mother’s questions in monosyllables and when he was finished, he excused himself and stood in the living room, gazing out the window at the park across the street. It was seven o’clock and Walter Cronkite was announcing on the television that a reporter for the New Yorker magazine had uncovered a massacre by American troops of Vietnamese civilians in a village called My Lai. Ethan looked over his shoulder at the television. It was the last straw.
    He walked deliberately up to his room, pulled his coat out of the closet, slipped on a woolen knit cap and his gloves and returned downstairs. He announced down the hall toward the kitchen that he was going out for a walk and, before he could hear his mother’s refusal to grant permission, was out the front door and running down the winding steps to the street.
    The clouds had cleared during dinner and the sky was a deep navy blue with hundreds of sharp, brilliant silver pinpricks of light. Without the cloud cover, the temperature was falling sharply and Ethan felt the cold penetrate the coat and his jeans. But, rather than unpleasant, he found it invigorating. It awoke him, sharpened his feelings, pushed him to march onward with purpose. He crossed the park and walked along Lake Windermere to Providence, running through a break in the traffic to the other side. He came to Zhenya’s house, saw a light on in his friend’s room, but continued on up Richmond until he came to the alley behind the Chelsea Corner record store, hesitating only when he came to the foot of the fire escape.
    Over the sound of the traffic on 15th St., he could hear Jim Morrison singing “The End” as an ambulance siren wailed appropriately in the distance. He could see college kids passing on the sidewalk on the other side of the building, bundled against the cold, rare for its bitterness this early in November. Looking upward, he saw a lone light from a window in the back of the building. He took a deep breath, the cold air stinging his throat, as climbed up the steps of the fire escape.
    He reached the metal door, with its green paint pealing off to reveal  metallic grey underneath. No sound emanated from within. He hesitated and then knocked, the sound muffled by the glove on his hand. After a minute, when there was no response, he was about to turn and leave when he swallowed. He removed his glove and banged harder on the door. He looked up at the peephole and saw a light flash through it. A second later, he heard the lock clicking and the door slowly opened to the inside.
    Matt was standing in the narrow crack, wearing only a pair of dirty, faded jeans. His hair was mussed and his eyes were red, the lids half closed. The acrid smell of pot floated out into the cold. Matt looked almost surprised, or as surprised as he could be in his state of mind.
    “Wow, what the fuck you doin’ here?”
    “Hey, Matt. Um, can I come in?”
    Matt seemed to think for a moment and then said, “Sure, hurry up. It’s cold as fuck out there!”
    Ethan stepped inside. The apartment  was dark, but he could make out the shapes of a couch and various chairs and tables in the room. There was a stale smell of fried food, mustiness, and pot. It was a disgusting environment, but Ethan was careful to show nothing in his face.
    “Come on, this way,” said Matt, stumbling toward a hallway. Ethan followed around the corner and into the room with the lit window he had seen from the alley. The room was small, lit only by a small lamp on the table beside the unmade bed, There were dirty clothes strewn across the room, a couple of empty Coke and Budweiser bottles on the table, an overflowing trash can beside the table, and a pipe next to a nearly full ashtray beside the bottles. There were a couple of Playboy magazines open to the centerfolds on the bed. Matt pulled the chair out from the table for Ethan and then collapsed on the bed, spreading his legs out wide as he sat back against the wall. It was then, as Ethan sat in the chair, that he realized Matt’s jeans were unzipped. The fly was wide open, revealing his pubic hair and a long rise pointing to the right. Matt grinned.
    Pointing to the Playboys, he slurred, “I was a little busy when ya knocked. Sorry.”
    “No, no, man,” said Ethan with a grin. “Don’t apologize. I’m the one who should apologize. I know what it’s like to get a good jack going and suddenly get interrupted. It’s a real pain in the ass.”
    Matt chuckled.
    “Well, you’re cool. Don’t worry about it. Well, this is kinda cool, man. Nobody ever comes here. So what’s up?”
    Ethan smiled, but then looked down in confusion.
    “Um, I… I don’t really know why I came by. I… I just feel kinda weird and…”
    He suddenly felt incredibly foolish. He shouldn’t have come. He had no idea why he had, just that he had to.
    Matt lost his grin as he looked at Ethan. Their eyes met for a long moment. Ethan felt a sudden surge in his pants and a shortness of breath. He looked down.
    “I guess,” he started again, “that… I’m worried about you. I really like you, Matt. I think you’re a cool guy. Everybody thinks your this pissed off hard-ass. Outside, you are. But, inside, I think you’re a really decent guy and…”
    “I don’t need no one to feel sorry for me,” Matt said coolly.
    Ethan frowned.
    “I know, man, and I’m not trying to embarrass ya or nothing,” he said, trying to affect some of Matt’s speech so as not to sound too pretentious. “But, friends care about their friends.”
    Matt’s face lost its emotion. He looked away,  biting his lip for a second. He turned back and looked at the small, brass pipe on the table and the baggy next to it. He pointed to them and quietly asked, “You want some?”
    Ethan looked at it and shook his head.
    “Naw, that’s OK. I’m cool.”
    “Too good to get high with me?” Matt said softly.
    “No, no. It’s not that. I… I did it once and something bad happened and I, I just don’t need to do it again.”
    Matt looked at him sympathetically.
    “Dude, we’re friends. You said so. Come here.”
    Matt scooted the head of the bed and spread his legs out longwise. He patted the bed between his legs. Ethan stood and removed his coat, hat, and gloves and then kicked off his shoes. He sat between Matt’s legs, cross-legged. Matt smiled and reached over for the pipe and the baggy. He emptied the pipe into the ashtray and filled it from the baggy. He lit a match and handed the pipe to Ethan.
    “Here. I gotta head start on ya.”
    Ethan hesitated, but Matt said, “Hurry up, this match is gonna burn me.”
    Ethan took the pipe and put it to his lips. Matt lit the bowl and watched  as Ethan took a hit. Ethan offered the pipe to Matt, but he shook his head.
    “It’s yours, Dude.”
    Ethan let out the smoke and took another hit, repeating the process until the bowl was consumed.
    Matt grinned.
    “You feelin’ good?”
    Ethan smiled vaguely. It was very much like the time Joshua had gotten him high, the time he persuaded him to have sex. Joshua. Tall, thick black curls, so intelligent and idealistic. What a schmuck.
    “What are ya thinkin’, man?”
    Ethan smiled and shook his head.
    “Nothing. So, where are your parents?”
    Matt snorted.
    “Mom works the second shift at the electronics plant. Her and her boyfriend. They don’t get off ‘till eleven,  then they usually go out and get drunk before they come home and fuck or fight. They sleep when I’m at school so the only time I have to fuck with ’em is on the weekends.”
    “Hey, it’s way cool.”
    Ethan could see why Matt would feel that way,  having the place basically to himself, with no one to tell him what to do. He smiled as Matt refilled the pipe.
    He looked at Matt’s sleepy eyes, at the freckles across his nose, and at the brown hair hanging down into his eyes. Ever since Ethan’s victory over the Coach in the Great Battle of the Dress Code, many of the boys at Waldo had forgone trips to the barber shop, among them Matt, whose hair now hung down over his ears, curling up in the back and to the side over his forehead. He shook his head, tossing his hair out of his eyes as he refilled the pipe. While Matt was occupied with the complicated task, Ethan took the chance to look over Matt’s hot torso up close. His chest was so hot, with its two big round nipples. They must have been twice as big as his, and despite his slumping, his stomach obviously had a good few ridges forming. There were little tufts of brown hair under his thick arms and Ethan suddenly found that, not only was his mouth getting dry, but his dick was getting hard. Well, Matt’s was already hard, apparently not going down any at all since Ethan had knocked, interrupting his masturbation with the Playboys.
    The two shared another bowl and when it was empty, Matt sat back, his legs spread wide, his fly gaping open, his sleepy eyes watching Ethan, and a knowing grin on his face.
    “So, why’d ya really come over?” he asked.
    Ethan swallowed.
    The grin disappeared from Matt’s face. He looked numbly away at the far wall.
    “Matt, what happened?”
    Matt sighed.
    “I fucked up.”
    Ethan laid his left hand on Matt’s knee and squeezed.
    “I fucked up!”
    Ethan frowned.
    “You want to tell me about it?”
    “No, I don’t wanna fuckin’ tell ya about it!”
    But, his face instantly softened.
    “Man, Ethan, I fuckin’ love the little shit. I love him.”
    He looked down desolately at the dirty sheet between his legs.
    “Man, everything was going great when we left the party. I got Sean high while we were walking home and…”
    “You got Sean high? Sean smoked pot?” Ethan asked incredulously.
    Matt grinned.
    “Yeah, he’s a fuckin’ trip when he’s high.”
    Ethan blinked and shook his head at the thought.
    “Wow. So what happened.”
    “Well, we got here and got nekid and got it on and, fuck, he is so fuckin’ crazy. Man, it was great.”
    Matt was smiling and looking off into space. Ethan assumed he was remembering Halloween night and “getting it on” with Sean. But, suddenly, his face clouded.
    “We were huggin’ and kissin’ and after I came… well, I kinda like freaked out.”
    Ethan looked sympathetically at Matt, understanding completely what was going through the teenager’s head.
    “Man, I’m a fuckin’ fag. I’m a fag. I like getting it on with Sean. I mean, it’s so… fuckin’ hot. You know? Well, I freaked out and I like scared the shit outta Sean and now, I guess he hates me and I don’t know what to do, ‘cause I love him and I just wanna hug him again and… Ethan, I’m a fag.”
    “Look, Matt. Just because you get turned on by a guy doesn’t mean you’re gay. I mean, Robby and I get it on all the time, but I like girls, too.”
    He picked up one of the Playboys.
    “Dude, I could beat off over this chick without any trouble. I like guys. I like girls. I like sex. I hate labels. I’m not gay. I’m not straight. I’m just Ethan. “
    Matt looked at him carefully. Ethan continued.
    “So what if you love Sean? You love Sean. Good! What’s the problem?”
    Matt looked down.
    “Man, people hate fags.”
    Ethan rolled his eyes.
    “Fuck people. Do you care what people think? You’re Matt Hunter. Have you ever given a shit what people think?”
    “Well, what’s the problem with you loving Sean?”
    “Well, nothing, I guess, ‘cept he hates me now.”
    “I’ll talk to him.”
    “You seen what he’s like, now. Somethin’s happened to him. He’s like totally different now. He’s not even Sean anymore. Man, I feel like fuckin’ shit and all I want to do is lay down with him and hug him. I don’t even want to do all the crazy horny shit. You know what I mean?”
    Ethan nodded, though he was having trouble concentrating completely on what Matt was saying.
    “Do you and Ronald MacDonald just get it on, or do you do, like, lovey-dovey shit?”
    Ethan smiled and looked down, his eyes inadvertently falling on Matt’s boner.
    “We do both. Sometimes, we just want to have fun and get off with each other and sometimes we want to hold each other and kiss and, well, you know.”
    Ethan looked up at Matt’s face and suddenly felt a surge through his body. Matt was looking at him intensely. His eyes were locked on his and his lips were parted slightly. Ethan could barely breath and he realized he was hard, very intensely hard.
    “Come here,” Matt whispered. He held an arm out to him. Ethan hesitated a moment and then slowly crawled forward up Matt’s body until he was laying at his side. Matt had crawled downward a bit and put his arm around Ethan. He looked down into the boy’s face. Slowly, his face moved toward Ethan’s. The boy’s eyes closed and his lips parted as he felt Matt’s breath on his face. Matt’s left  arm was holding him and his right hand came up and gently took his face as his lips touched Ethan’s.
    They kissed. Matt held Ethan’s face and gently kissed him, his lips caressing and pulling Ethan’s. For several long moments, the two boys’ mouths made love to each other until Matt’s tongue pushed forward between his lips and touched Ethan’s. The boy opened his mouth, letting Matt in and moaning as he felt the tongue slip through his lips.
    Their tongues met and Ethan’s slid over Matt’s writhing, pushing, exploring tongue. He could taste him and it made him crazy. Between the pot and the excitement of this hot, beautiful teenager, so strong, so handsome, holding him and loving him, so rough and yet so gentle, Ethan was almost crazed. His pelvis was writhing against the bed and Matt’s hip as the teenager rolled over halfway on top of the younger boy. They were both moaning, Ethan’s slightly high-pitched, as his voice was only on the verge of changing; Matt’s deeper, almost a growl as his voice had changed months before.
    Matt pulled away and looked down at Ethan. He ran his hand around the boy’s face.
    “You’re almost as pretty as Sean, you know that?” he said, not realizing it could be taken in a different way than the compliment it was intended as. Ethan understood and smiled.
    “You know,” Matt continued, “you should let your hair down. I’ll bet you’d be real pretty.”
    He sat up and reached down to unsnap his jeans. As he hoisted his butt in the air and slid them down, Ethan pulled his sweater and tee-shirt off and over his head and slipped his pants off. The two boys sat naked and rigid beside each other as Ethan reached up and back to unfasten his ponytail. He ran his fingers through his hair and shook his head as his dark golden blond hair fell about his head and almost to his shoulders.
    Bracing himself with his left hand on the bed, Matt reached up with his right again and ran his fingers through Ethan’s hair. The boy smiled and reached forward for Matt’s cock, running his hand over it and feeling it all over. He heard Matt’s breathing pick up as he felt him off. His own breathing was becoming ragged with lust as he felt the teenager’s big cock.
    Matt reached down and wrapped his hand around Ethan’s boner and the younger boy almost squealed and he felt the big hand stroke him and feel him.
    “Fuck,” Matt whispered. “I love sex. I want to get it on with you so bad.”
    Ethan was beyond self-control. He laid down and pulled Matt down beside him. The older boy took his face in his hands again and roughly began to kiss him hard, his tongue almost raping Ethan’s mouth as he nearly growled with his lust for the boy. Ethan was furiously stroking Matt’s cock and balls, reveling in the size and hardness. He was beside himself with horniness. He had never felt this with Robby.
    Robby. Oh, man, he had to share this with Robby, Oh, it would be so hot to get high with Robby and get it on like this! Or, would it. Maybe Matt was hotter than Robby. He was gazing up into Matt’s face as the older boy looked down at him, that knowing grin on his lips, those eyes gazing into his. Fuck! Matt was so hot.
    “Ethan, “ Matt breathed down at the younger boy. “I want to suck your dick.”
    “Oh, yeah. Suck me.”
    Matt crawled on top of the boy, but before he moved downward, he lay completely on Ethan, crushing his mouth with another deep, hard kiss. Ethan was in heaven with the teenager overwhelming him in such a way.  He could barely breath, barely move with the heavy boy atop him. It was wonderful.
    Matt raised his head and looked down at Ethan in awe.
    “Fuck,” he muttered in awe. “Fuck.”
    He crawled down Ethan’s slim body until his mouth was even with Ethan’s chest. He looked down at smiled as he saw Ethan’s nipples so stiff and hard. The boy could feel Matt’s hot breath on his chest, tickling his left nipple.
    “Oh, yeah,” he whispered.  “Do it.”
    Matt growled and took Ethan’s left nipple in his mouth. His tongue licked across the stiff nubbin repeatedly before his teeth gently took it and bit. Ethan cried out and thrust his chest upward, throwing his head back against the pillow. He worked his arms free from under the weight of Matt’s body. His left hand held Matt’s head firmly against his chest, forcing his mouth tightly onto his nipple with his fingers weaved into his thick, brown hair. His right hand moved up and down Matt’s back, feeling the muscles and squeezing his butt as he squirmed his hips underneath, He could feel Matt’s big teenage cock between his legs and he suddenly felt a need for the cock. He wanted to feel Matt lay atop him again and press the cock into his stomach. He wanted to feel the teenager fuck his hips up and down on him. He needed to feel Matt’s strength.
    The teenager moved to Ethan’s right nipple and the boy nearly screamed with desire as the feelings started all over again. He brought his hands underneath Matt and began to play with the teenager’s nipples. Matt grunted and raised his head, looking up at Ethan with shock.
    “Fuck!” he exclaimed. “No wonder you fags like this shit so much!”
    Ethan grinned as he squeezed and twisted Matt’s nipples, eliciting a groan as his eyes shut tightly and his head moved back further.
    Matt lay there writhing against Ethan as the boy continued to mercilessly play with his nipples until he could take it no more. Ethan was thrusting his hips upward, desperately trying to rub his rigid dick against Matt’s torso. Both boys were nearly unable to think rationally by this point.
    Matt moved down as Ethan sat up, continuing to play with the teenager’s nipples. As Matt lifted up, Ethan spread his legs wide and Matt dove down on the boy’s dick. There were no preliminaries; no licking, no kissing. He opened his mouth and swallowed the long, thin, rigid boy cock into his hungry mouth. One hand supported him as he sucked, while the other felt and played with Ethan’s balls. He fondled and squeezed them, causing the boy to writhe uncontrollably as he moaned and cried. He continued to play with Matt’s nipples and both boys were groaning and moaning.
    Matt’s fingers caressed through Ethan’s thin, soft, silky brown public hair as he ran his tongue all over the sensitive underside of the boy’s cock. Suddenly, he could wait no longer. He heaved himself upward, continuing to hungrily devour Ethan’s dick. His right hand reached down between his legs and grasped his rigid teenage cock and began to wildly jack. He growled as he began to pound away on his boner, sucking Ethan for all he was worth.
    The boy fell back against the pillow beneath him and writhed, desperately clutching at the sheets beneath him.
    Matt had never sucked a cock before and Ethan knew this was a big step for him.
    “Ah, Matt, ah, ahhh, that feels so good. Ah, suck me. Ah, man.”
    Matt lifted his mouth off Ethan for a moment and sat up. He pounded away on his cock as he looked down hungrily and the younger boy beneath him.
    “Ya look so fuckin’ pretty, Ethan. You are so fuckin’ pretty.”
    He was up on his knees, jacking off wildly over the prone form. Ethan reached down and grabbed his own dick and began rubbing desperately. He writhed beneath Matt as the teenager ferociously jacked his boner, working his hips around, his teeth set as if he were about to pounce on Ethan.
    Suddenly, Matt growled . His face contorted in a look of agony as his head fell backwards and his hips thrust outward. His left arm shot out sideways for balance as his hand rapidly beat his dick.
    Wads of thick white cum shot from the teenager’s dick and landed all over Ethan’s body and face. Wave after wave coated the boy as he writhed wildly beneath the onslaught. And, as it began to subside, Ethan cried out, threw his head back as he wildly stroked himself, and shot his thin ejaculate over his hand and tummy.
    Matt sat back between Ethan’s legs and gazed down at the boy as they both gasped with exhaustion. Their eyes met as Ethan’s sticky hand fell to the bed. Matt grinned down at him and Ethan smiled gratefully. After a moment, the teenager crawled forward a lay down beside Ethan, pulling him to him, his left arm crawling under Ethan’s shoulder and wrapping around the boy, his sticky right hand cupping the boy’s butt and pulling him to him. Their creamy, sticky torsos were glued together as Matt deeply kissed Ethan, not roughly and guided by desire as before, but gently and lovingly. He pulled back and grinned down at Ethan.
    “Thanks, man,” he whispered. “I needed that.”
    Ethan smiled back.
    “Yeah, that was pretty neat,” he said between gasps. “Wow.”
    Matt lay his head down on the pillow beside Ethan.
    “You know, I might need some more practice before Sean lets me love him, you know what I mean?”
    Ethan grinned.
    “Yeah. Me, too. I want to make sure I got it down right when I get it on with Robby.”
    He paused and then added, “Hey, you think I could buy some of this shit? I want to get Robby high and get it on with him. He’ll love this.”
    Matt looked doubtfully down at Ethan.
    “Ronald MacDonald? I don’t think so.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “Oh, I’ll get ya some, but I don’t think Robby’ll go for it, man.”
    “Of course he will. He loves sex.”
    Matt shrugged.
    “Well, OK. If you say so. My Mom deals so bring me ten dollars tomorrow and I’ll come home during lunch and get the shit. OK?”
    Ethan grinned stupidly.
    “Man, this stuff is great! I love this. Man, I’ve never felt so good. This is so much better the meditating. Wow.”
    Matt looked down at Ethan and frowned. There was something wrong here and he wasn’t sure he wanted to sell Ethan the pot. It just didn’t seem right.
    But, he put his doubts out of his mind and pulled the boy to him. Ethan snuggled close and closed his eyes in contentment, paying no attention to the time.

And, so, ends Chapter Ten. Chapter Eleven is coming soon. What will happen between Sean and Matt? Will Ethan persuade Robby to get high with him? Will Zhenya see through Ian? I hope you are enjoying the story and will let me  know at fthinker@ Thank you!!!