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From the Author
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About this story
This is my first story. It's a completed two-part short story, but actually serves as a prologue to a longer story I'm working on. I hope to hear from you about how you feel about this, and decide whether I should continue the protagonist's story.
The follow-up to "Growing Intimacy" is called "A Love so Star-crossed, A Love so Beautiful," and will continue David's story. If things go well, I'll post it soon. I've already finished the first few chapters. How you, my readers, feel will certainly decide whether or how I should continue the story.
18 Nov 2012
It was May and we were gay. Gay as in we were carefree and upbeat. Gay as in we were always sticking together and doing things that we'd like to keep secret. On one day, as May was drawing to an end, Joel and I were at my house again, and after what seemed like five minutes of computer games both of us were in my room, seated on my bed. We didn't lock the door; there was no one home. The house was all ours.
"So you wanna do it again?" asked Joel trying not to be eager. He failed. But I was as eager as he was, so after a glance of consensus we started stripping. We were naked in seconds.
"We aren't going out today, right?" I said. "You know, I'm kinda not in the mood for football today."
"And yet you're in the mood for this," he teased. My response was a lengthened "Yeah." On his face I could see that he couldn't agree more with me.
In our friendship, I often appeared to be the submissive one, and so when he suggested that I be screwed this time I just threw myself onto the bed and kept my face close to the sheet, watching sideways at his eagerness.
Then I felt he aimed his warm dick into my entrance, I pulled apart my cheeks to the best of my ability so it could enter more easily. It slipped out the first time, but the second time it was right in the place and I didn't need even to motion for him to start doing his thing.
The thrusting was slow at first, at a rather steady rhythm as his hands lay quiet motionless on my two shoulders. A minute or two later the motion quickened, and his hands squeezed on my shoulders, hard. His breathing turned unstable, and his legs separated further so as to exert more force in each push.
"Christ! It feels so good, man," cried Joel. I said, "ShhhíK" He ignored me; he was lost in fantasy.
"People may hear!" I whispered forcefully. "It's a small neighborhood...they can easily identify us from the noises you're making." What followed was that he tightened his grip on me, and the rate of his action went up. I had to admit it was great, but I was really afraid. I couldn't begin to think about what might happen if someone heard and caught us.
"DaveíKAhhh!" he shouted again. "You're so tight, and it's making this so much better."
"Hey! At least you should stop calling my name. People who pass by may hear!"
"Don't worry. No one will hear us," he assured. "Now just enjoy this." What else could I do beside obeying him and getting lost in this celestial experience? His body was so close to mine my skin could touch the heat of his breath, and his voice was cute as ever. Although I wasn't looking at his face, it was equally exciting and there was not much left to say. I gave in to pure desire.
"FasteríKfaster," I yearned. This time he did precisely what he was told. The speed was greatly increased, as was the thrill. Even pressed toward the bed and not having much room to move, my own erection was getting the share of enjoyment it deserved.
That feeling finally approached. This time I wasn't afraid íV I was ready to embrace it and love it. I hadn't the faintest idea what coming was then, but it didn't matter because it didn't need to take a smart person to figure out that it was the moment of explosion, of the "game" in which we were taking part as a team. It felt so much more personal, so much more real and solid than scoring ten goals in a game of football. With every stronger thrust, the intensity grew; the arrival of the moment of release was undeniable. Within a second or two, every muscle of my body tensed and landed me right in wonderland. My dick pulsated for a few seconds; this time it felt even better, better than the first time we did it, and better than the last time we did it. God. It got better every time.
When its vibration stopped, and my body relaxed, I breathed a deep breath and closed my eyes. Joel's movements went on, and second after second he was losing control of his body.
"Oh GodíKI'm doing itíKDavey, I'm doing itíK" he murmured in an unclear and fragmented sentence. What did he mean by "it"? Was he referring to that feeling? I wondered what "it" was.
With a final "Ahhhhhh!" he pushed his treasure into me for the last time. It was a rather a violent move and it hurt a little. But soon I was addicted to his throbbing dick and his hands that couldn't seem to fix themselves on a certain spot. I felt certain wetness inside of me and I wondered what it was. The last few times I let him penetrate me, at the end of the "game", I always felt something wet. In fact, every time he did it, that wetness seemed to be greater than the previous time. From Joel's reaction and his comments over the weeks we'd been doing this, I was aware that he knew much more than I. I decided to ask him when the time was right.
"Crap!" I yelled, "There's a wet spot on the bed!" It wasn't large, but it was large enough to make it hard to be removed completely in a short period of time. "What will Mum say if she sees this when she gets back?" I panicked. I thought I was going to cry then.
"No problemo, Dave," Joel grinned. "Get the cards in here. We'll cover it with the blanket and we'll play poker on it. We don't take it off until, you know, it evaporates." Dumbfound, I nodded and calmed down. It sounded like a good idea.
"Let's just hope your seed wasn't mighty enough to leave a mark on the mattress," he continued. The remark made me frown. But once we were into our poker game I was feeling better. It seemed my Mum would still be finding her way out of the local supermarket for a few more hours. It was an enormous supermarket, and there was a lot she could indulge in, being the kind of housewife she was.
As our card game went on, I eventually stocked up enough courage to ask Joel, "Do you know what that wet stuff was?" He looked puzzled, but after a few moments of pause and deep thoughts he regained his calmness.
"As a matter of fact, I do," he laughed. "That white stuff's your jizz. We probably don't make much now, but in the future we'll make more."
"You know. That is the stuff that makes baby." He obviously noticed I was half confused, so he continued explaining.
In the next half an hour, our game turned into a sex-ed session and I was taught loads of valuable and somewhat odd stuff. Some I'd known all along, but others not so much. I'd known what sperm was, only without Joel, I wouldn't get to know how it was made and used, and the process that was usually inevitably involved in making it. He didn't mention masturbation then, but I didn't ask. Anyway, I was told some of the basic stuff of sexual intercourse. Mostly in his rather casual description a male and a female were two willing participants. He spoke like a professional, stopping here and there for my questions. When I asked him why he chose me and why he suggested doing the "screwing" thing, he shrugged the question away. I didn't ask again. I wasn't stupid; I could easily sense that he was eluding the more personal questions especially those about our relationship, what we shared and did, though he was more than willing to flood my innocent mind with all sorts of general knowledge, most of which I didn't quite understand.
My mother still hadn't returned, and after an hour we were totally hard again. Our erections displayed on our shorts with obvious tents that begged for attention. As he reached out to get into contact with my bulge and sort of started giving it a massage and the occasional squeeze, I started doing the same for him. Soon we kicked the cards and the sheet away and explored each other's organ on the bed. I had the urge to be closer, so close and even closer to him, to smell him, to feel him. At that moment, I wanted us to be one. Was that love?
I stopped and thought for a moment when my face was in front of his, our lips inches apart. He was so seductive, that face just pulled me in. The green eyes that glistened, the smile that illuminated my bedroom, they just pulled me in. I felt he gave a slight nod, so bravely I closed the gap between us. The previous second there was sweet air and our scent that served as a boundary between our physical bodies, of our relationships and of our dreams. Now there was nothing; there was nothing but passion and passion alone when I pressed my lips against his. His breath entered my mouth at that instant, and it never felt better. I tasted only sweetness in this unfamiliar territory, like the best of strawberries, like the combination of every beauty in this world. I couldn't ask for more in my young life. My erection seemed to harden even more. I hoped it could last for a lifetime.
It didn't. As our lips touched, after what felt like a second, his green eyes grew large, so large that they appeared frightened rather than passionate. The next second I was shoved away. We stared at each other for seconds, and he said, "I better leave." Was that contempt in his eyes? Was that hate? I don't even remember his face looked like at that time, thanks to my abnormal mind.
He was out. I didn't know what went wrong, but he was out. The taste of strawberries still lingered at the tip of my lips, but when my tongue tasted it, it tasted more like blood. It tasted more like hurt. I stumbled my way toward to living room and collapsed onto the couch. I started crying like a baby and teardrops seemed to ceaselessly fall, and the sky seemed darker outside. My heaven was no more.
When my Mum returned, I was able to pull myself together and brought myself back into a transient state of peace. After supper and bath I locked myself in my room that night, thinking and rethinking in an unending loop. I still didn't know what went wrong. Then I was dragged into another breakdown, and this time I wasn't so lucky. There was no stopping my tears and my depression, and my tissues soon ran out. This time I didn't even care about wetting the bed. I simply fell onto it and passed a sleepless night in tears and agonizing thoughts.
The next day was a Sunday. When I finally fell asleep at five in the morning, I left behind dawn and drifted into my dream hoping that it would bring me joy instead of pain. It didn't. It brought me Joel, and I awoke and cried a thousand tears again. Then I slept again, and it repeated. I tried to keep my head on the pillow; most of it was soaked.
When I met Joel again the next week we played our game of football like nothing had ever happened. I didn't dare to discuss what happened between us, and oddly enough, he seemed to have forgotten about it all. It really seemed like nothing happened at all, though both of us knew that it was not true. There was something between us, and we both enjoyed what we had for the last couple of weeks. But if he felt anything, he never showed it. I was beginning to have doubts, thinking either it was all an illusion, or he had amnesia.
But then came Jane and I found out he was fully aware of what we did. After a football game, when someone in our gang mentioned something about homosexuals at school, I couldn't help looking at Joel. We shared a knowing glance, and at that moment I knew he hadn't forgotten anything. As I thought about it I was even sadder than before. The fact that he remembered it and didn't want to remember it was more hurtful than the fact that he forgot it all.
A few weeks went by and I couldn't stop my active mind from meditating on the matter more profoundly. I realized suddenly one Saturday afternoon that this could be love, and I was hurt not by Joel, but by love, and I was a victim of the game of love, or someone caught in its side effects. I was watching a rerun of an old TV show about some cheesy romance, and it made me want to cry so bad.
The same night in bed I looked at things more thoroughly. It was then I noticed there was really nothing between Joel and me. All that time he never gave a single hint indicating that he shared what I felt for him. We did share something íV we did things that normal teenagers don't do. We took part in something immoral in secrecy, and I loved it. For a moment I thought he did, too. But in the end he probably didn't. Or perhaps he didn't like being kissed. Why? Because kissing another boy was gayish? And how was putting your penis inside another boy not gayish? But it was clear; I was his experiment, and we both enjoyed it. I was wrong to think that there was nothing between us, because there was something between us. But that something, it wasn't the intimacy I yearned for; it wasn't love. It was just that we were the cause of each other's heavenly feelings, only on the physical level. When I look back, our relationship was sexual, and by kissing him I crossed the boundary into something rather dangerous. I understand it now. He decided not to take the risk.
He didn't talk about it again because he was afraid I would do something like that again. I realized he wasn't looking for what I was looking for. I thought he was probably looking for another boy to mess around with now. But wait. I knew I couldn't think that way. And I knew I couldn't blame him. He didn't use me, because we used each other. I only ended up being the one in agony because I tried to seek something that didn't exist in him. And he got what he looked for, and he ended our secret relationship himself because he wanted to prevent me from going further. It might hurt him for a while, but his physical longing was nothing compared to what I was feeling every day in my heart. I'd felt that I had a chance to hold on to something so great, but I lost that.
I moved away in July because my Dad got a different job and we had to move to a different state. I was going to miss Oklahoma, and Joel, and every game that we played, and everything that we did together.
I remember our last football game together. When it ended, the guys surrounded me and gave me a group hug that almost smothered me to death. Joel walked me to my house. The packed items and some of our electronic appliances were already outside ready to be loaded onto the truck. We sat on a few steps of stairs chatting excitedly, reminiscing old times, looking forward to unseen times. It had been a long time since he talked so much. Since that incident, we'd been communicative in a much more reserved manner. That day it was different; that day he spoke even more than I. I felt amazing because in his glistening eyes I saw he was going to miss me too. This time, I saw real tears. It's always happy to know that you're not the only one who misses somebody.
When he pulled me close to a tight hug, I felt something down there. I would definitely miss him, and remember him and the memories we shared. But I would meet someone, and that someone would mean much more to me than Joel did. We would share something much more personal, and beautiful.
But that doesn't mean I'll forget Joel. No one ever forgets their first crush.
This is the end of "Growing Intimacy." I hope you like it and continue to follow the in-progress follow-up which will be uploaded soon.
Growing Intimacy (gay/young-friends/2012)