The standard disclaimers apply. Do not read if you are under 18, if it is illegal for you to, or if you are offended by boys engaging in consentual sex. Otherwise, enjoy.

Journey Of Love

Chapter 4

Something is wrong. They say I'm supposed to start feeling better the more I write, but it hasn't started yet. My lover says don't get discouraged, it'll take time. But I don't know. But now I want to keep writing because if something happens to me, I want everyone to know how I got here.

I woke up the next morning with Danny's left arm draped over me, a raging hard-on, and the alarm clock beeping furiously. I raised my head and saw we had just enough time to dress, eat and get to school. Danny's first day back after the accident. I gently shook him awake, and when he opened his eyes and saw me, he smiled. It quickly faded, though, and a questioning look came into his eyes. It hurt. I leaned forward, and pressed my lips against his, and he smiled through the kiss. We didn't have time for much more than that. We took turns in the shower, got dressed, and hurried into the kitchen for a quick bowl of cereal before we left.

Before we went out the door, Danny's mom lectured him about taking it easy, no rough-housing, and no sport activities.

We got to school about 10 minutes before the bell for home room, and Danny was now the popular kid. Some of the boys and almost all the girls wanted to know about the accident, even though they had heard about it the day before from me. I was sort of nudged to the back of the crowd. I'd already had my day, and I was old news. But I could see Danny searching for me. I waved, and pointed toward home room.

We didn't have home room together, so I didn't see him till second period algebra.

"Man, everyone's asked me about the accident," he said.

"Yeah, I know, they all asked me the same thing yesterday," I replied.

He smiled, and I melted. "What a morbid bunch," he giggled.

Just then Mr. Swim came in and we quieted down. Danny raised his right arm.

"Mr. Shaw."

"Mr. Swim, can I have Justin take notes for me? I can't write with my left hand."

"Of course. I heard about your accident. But if you're not out of the cast by finals we'll have to figure something out. Mr. Reynolds will not be able to take the test for you."

"Thanks. I sure wouldn't want him to. Anybody but him." The class laughed out loud. I punched him on the shoulder. Danny just giggled. Geez, no wonder he is the most popular kid around. He can even make Mr. Swim laugh. But then, Mr. Swim is one of our cooler teachers.

So we learned about the quadradic equation and all its evil dimensions. I took notes, Danny listened, made a few suggestions, then grew quiet. I thought he was all absorbed in the math, when I felt a hand on my thigh. Oh, geez, not here. Two x minus ugh...what? Minus what? No, x squared...or was it two x squared minus the...ummmmm...

"Jesus, stop that," I hissed, trying to keep my eyes on the notes.

Not a sound from my right. But the hand moved higher. And the room was getting hotter.

"Dammit, Danny. Stop it now!" I said through clenched teeth. Too late. I was reacting to Danny's hand.

"Someone's gonna see us," I whispered, "and then you'll have a new topic to explain to everyone."

The hand stopped. Then it left my thigh. I felt lonely. And as horny as a rabbit. Jeez.

Silence from my right.

At last the bell rang, long enough after Danny's little "pet" project that my stiffie had wilted and I could stand up without embarrassment. The noise of the classroom rose, and I turned to Danny, who was smiling at me. I melted. But just for a moment.

"What the hell are you trying to do?" I demanded.

"Just give you some encouragement," he giggled back.

"To do what, whip it out and have you suck me right here?"

"SSSHhhhhhhhh. Jeez, Justin, chill out."

"ME chill out? Soak those hands in some ice water, pal."

We walked down the hall. He had history, I had English.

"Meet me in the bathroom down this hallway at 9:50," he said.

"No," I said. "Danny, we have to talk before we get ourselves into all kids of trouble."

"I don't wanna talk," he said, pouting. I almost melted, but I remained firm.

"Danny, I'm really confused. I gotta talk to someone about this, and you're the only one I can." Somehow that didn't seem right. I should be able to talk to a neutral third party. Danny was hardly neutral.

"Heh heh. You come talk to me. I'll just cum. I know exactly the right things to say to you." Now I knew it didn't seem right.

"What are you on? Are you still taking those pain pills?" I asked.

"I'm on you," he said. "You take away my pain."

Oh, lord. But you know, as corny as it sounded, I knew he meant it. How? His eyes. Those eyes. They weren't laughing. They were serious. There was always light in Danny's eyes, the light of happiness. Or glee. But this time, it was an intense light. I don't know, maybe it was the angle of his eyebrows. Or his mouth. He wasn't smiling. He was dead serious. He looked into me again, and my insides crawled.

"We're gonna be late," I said. "You gonna be okay in history? Got someone to take notes?"

"Well, someone will take notes for me, but I'm not gonna be okay. Not without you."

"Bye. See ya in family life." And I walked to my English class.

Joseph Conrad. Lord Jim. Oh, yeah. That's gonna help. I'd read the required chapters Sunday afternoon, when I spent a little time at home. Mom was still zinging, so I closed the door to my room and read. I really love to read. I imagined myself as one of the boys, and tried to figure out what I'd do, who's side I'd be on, how I'd react. But as we sat discussing it today, all I could think about was which boy I'd want to be with. Which was most like Danny? Could Danny come along?

"Mr. Reynolds?" My head snapped toward the teacher, Miss Green.

"Uh." Back to the dumbplace.

"The question. Can you answer it?"

I looked at her, and all I could think of was that moronic joke:

Teacher: Class, can someone give me a multi-syllable word?

Dirty Johnny: Me, teacher, me.

Teacher: Johnny?

Johnny: Urinate.

Teacher: Well, can you use that in a sentence?

Johnny: Urinate, but if you had bigger tits, you'd be a ten.

Since everyone was already laughing at me, it sounded like I was just joining in when I giggled at the thought.

"I'm sorry," I said. That old honesty thing. "I admit it. I wasn't paying attention."

"What made him do that right then?" she repeated.

Thank god I'd read it. I gave a credible answer.

Nine-fifty came and went, and I stayed put in the classroom. I was watching Becky Decker doodle. I'd had a crush on her once. Fortunately, she had crush on me at the same time, and we got together a few times to play. Just play, you pervs. We were pre-teen then. But we became good friends, and we'd always gotten together several times a year for burgers or ice cream. We talked a lot, with Danny or without him.

Family life used to be called Home Ec, and only girls took it. Now everyone took it, and we didn't bake cookies. Well, we did once. But now we were on the chapter they might as well call "How to Prevent Family Life." Sex ed. I had an assigned seat in the back with Timmy Anderson. We sat on stools behind these counters (for when we baked cookies). Danny had an assigned seat halfway up --the teacher was pretty smart about breaking up friends so we'd pay a little more attention. But I saw him talking to the teacher, then turn and smile at me as he made his way to my counter.

"Mr. Reynolds, I'm going to let Mr. Shaw sit next to you today so you can take notes for him.. Mr. Anderson, will you trade places with Mr. Shaw?"

"I can take notes for him without him sitting next to me," I said. "I'm perfectly capable of writing without him." I was panicking.

"Well, I suppose that's true," Mr. Brown said. Mr. Brown didn't usually teach the class, but as long as we were talking about sex, he took the boys and Mrs. Bertrell took the girls. We all baked cookies together, though. "But for today, he can tell you what he needs you to write down."

"Aw, he doesn't have to do that. I take great notes."

"I'm sure you do. But since we're all in our places now, let's just move on."

And he did. And Danny did, too. It didn't take him two minutes. That hand, warm, soft, was on my jeans-covered thigh.

"Stop it," I hissed.

Silence from my right. I should have sat on HIS right -- he can't do much with that cast.

Slowly he stroked my leg, and I got uncomfortable right away. Jeans don't offer much give to a five inch erection, not while you're sitting down.

"The gonads, remember, is the name...." Oh, god, just what I need.

Danny's hand moved higher. He felt my crotch and could tell I was hard. I was squirming cuz it was un-fuckin'-comfortable. I squirmed my ass around on the seat, when all of a sudden, Danny grabbed me and helped me adjust myself.

I looked around. Mr. Brown was on the vagina -- I mean was TALKING about the vagina, and every boy eye in the place was rivited on the model. Better than an instruction manual.

"Stop," I pleaded. But with far less conviction. Danny slid his soft hadn up and down my cloth covered member, and it sent chills through me. My nipples were hard under my loose shirt.

"The sperm enters...."

I tried to concentrate on the notes and ignore Danny. I wrote, but it became erratic. I concentrated on Mr. Brown, but my eyes slipped closed. The hand was gentle, but was now pressing a little harder. Ignore it, I told myself. Notes.

The hardest part was controlling my breathing. No one was watching, but if I started breathing funny, a stationary model of a girl's private parts wasn't gonna hold these guys' interest.

Up and down, then pausing at the head of my erection to squeeze a little harder. He didn't move any faster, just up and down. Shit, still 30 minutes left of class.

"Stop it." No conviction this time.

He used the palm of his hand to press hard against my cock. Sliding down, he cupped my balls and slid a finger along the seam behind them, then back up to my cock. I was starting to sweat, more from trying to control my breathing. But I took in a huge gulp, trying to make it sound like was bored. I was anything but. My nipples tingled, and from my balls came an unmistakable feeling. The slowness of Danny's hand was heightening my orgasm even further. I'd have cum an ordinary cum by now if I had been doing it, fast and furious. This slow pace was taking me far higher. I wanted the release. Oh, Christ, I needed the release. I pushed my hips forward and said, "Hurry up, dammit."

Silence from my right, but I could see him smiling as he stared at Mr. Brown.

I involuntarily drew my right leg up. The notes were a mess, so I laid the pencil down. Another deep breath. The hand was relentless in its pace. Uuuuuuuuppppp and doooooowwwwwnnnn. A little bit harder, a pause to squeeze the tip. Dooooowwwwnnnn and uuuuuuuuppppp. I dropped my head to watch his hand. I reached up and scratched a nipple, and that was it.

I couldn't breath. If I had, everyone would have heard a moan explode from me, and the jig would have been up.

"So, at the moment of orgasm...."

Boom. Stars. I heard the blood pound in my ears. I felt the cum well up from my balls and blast out into my shorts. I exhaled as quietly as possible, and Danny looked over at me, and I melted.

He rubbed more and I came more. I spurted into my shorts. This was the third time something like this happened. My toes curled inside my sneakers, and my arms tensed as I grasped the counter top. I shuddered as the last of the orgasm died away, and then sagged.

"Mr. Reynolds, are you okay?"

"Um, no. I think the stuff I'm taking for this rash is getting to me," I lied. I wasn't taking anything for it, just putting salve on it. But he didn't know that.

"Do you need to go to the nurse's office?" he asked.

"No, I think just to the bathroom, quick if you don't mind."

"I'll go with him," Danny volunteered, but Mr. Brown wasn't having it.

"No, he can take care of himself, Mr. Shaw. You stay put."

I pulled the tail of my shirt out of my pants and wiped my forehead, then let it cover where the wet spot was going to be as I made my way out of the classroom and down the hallway. I was mad.

I got to the restroom without meeting anyone, and locked myself in one of the stalls. God, I was a mess. The thick cum coated my shorts, but so far hadn't soaked through to my blue jeans. I cleaned myself up the best I could so it wouldn't leak through, pulled the clammy underwear back up, and zipped up my jeans.

How could he have done that to me? He took advantage of me. Yeah, I let him after he got me all hot, but I was mad.

There was still 10 minutes left of class, and I couldn't hang out in the bathroom, so I went back. But I picked an empty seat near the door -- far from Danny. Mr. Brown asked if I was okay.

"Yeah, it passed. But I'm gonna sit here by the door in case I feel it again," I said. I shot Danny a glance and tried to kill him with my eyes. The grin on his face faded fast. When the bell finally rang, I was the first out the door and I didn't look back.

I didn't go to lunch that day. I went outside, away from everyone.

Why? I mean, I know why he did it, but did he know how it made me feel? We were starting something, and now it had died. I felt nothing. Nothing for Danny. Nothing but anger. My heart weighed a ton. I started to cry, but got a grip just as I heard the bell.

I ran back to the school, to American history. Danny and I had that together, too, but the teacher assigned us seats and had been smart enough to separate the two of us early on. I didn't even look at Danny.

The rest of the day was tortuous. Danny and I had only one other class together, and again I sat far away and didn't look at him. After the last bell, Danny came by my locker. I didn't acknowledge him.

"Justin, are you coming over after school?" He asked.

"Nope. I gotta spend time at home. Bye."

And I left. Didn't look back. But he chased after me.

"Justin, wait." I kept walking. Before he caught up to me, I began to run, past all the kids in the hall, then out the door, across the parking lot and through the practice fields. I was in good shape cuz I was the shortstop on the JV baseball team, but baseball players don't run long distances. I couldn't keep it up long. Danny could run, and run a long ways. He played second string basketball, even though he wasn't all that tall.

"Justin, wait for me. I wanna talk to you."

I tried to run faster, but he was catching up.

"Justin, stop it," he demanded as we reached the woods. There was a tone in his voice, like he deserved to talk to me. I stopped.

"Get the fuck away from me," I spat.

He stopped dead. Fear in his eyes. It fueled my anger.

"Just get the fuck away," I said again. "I don't want to talk to you, I don't want to see you, I don't want your mom cooking grilled cheese for me, I don't want you to touch me and I don't want to be in the same state as you. Dammit, Danny, get away."

"Justin, I-I-I'm sorry, buddy."

"Fuck you. Fuck sorry."

"I-I was just trying to have a little fun."

"I hope you had it, you sick bastard. I hope you really got your jollies, you fag."

He looked at me like he never had before. The fear and turned to sheer terror. He saw our friendship breaking apart. Fourteen years, crashing on one incident. But this was a big one.

"Justin, I j-j-just w-w-wanted to m-make you f-f-f-eeel good."

"You made me feel like a fool. I told you to stop. I told you over and over to stop. Just leave me alone. You did ruin it, prick. It's over. You're a faggot who can't keep his hands off me. I'm not gonna end up like you. Just stay the fuck away."

He was stunned. He was too stunned to cry. I couldn't even tell if he was breathing.

"Justin, don't...."

"No, I won't. I won't tell anyone about you. I guess fourteen years of friendship deserves something, although you don't. In memory of that fourteen years, I'll keep your dirty little secret to myself. But don't come near me. Don't sit next to me, don't even say hi in the hallway. We're done, pal."

"Oh, god, Justin, no." He found the water valve. Big tears began to roll down his cheeks. "No, Justin, I apologize. No, don't do this. I won't ever touch you again like that, but I need you as a friend. Don't end it. Take a few days to cool off, Justin. I'll leave you alone. I swear. I won't talk to you, nothing. But say you'll at least think it over. Don't end this forever."

"Shit, look at you."

"Yeah, Justin, look at me. What am I gonna do without my best friend?"

"Don't know. Don't care. I got no best friend right now."

He sank to his knees before me. "Justin, I'm sooo sorry. Don't walk away from everything we've had. Only stay mad a few days. Please don't....." He dissolved into tears.

I looked at him, tears streaming down his cheeks, hands held together, pleading, the depths of sadness reflected in his eyes.

And I walked past him and pushed him over as I did. He curled into a ball and sobbed as I strode away.

Through the woods and across the park on my way home, I thought of all the times we had together. Birthday parties at each others' homes. Cub scouts, camping, swimming lessons. All the haunted houses we'd gone to together. Movies, playing cops and robbers. He learned to ride a bike before I did, I got a skateboard before him. Baseball games in the empty lot at the end of the block. Snow football. First dates just last year -- we doubled. His dad drove us to a movie, my dad picked us up. Countless sleepovers. The refuge of his house. His laugh, like the sound of goblets clinking together at a happy party. His eyes.

Tears clouded my eyes, but I didn't cry. I stumbled into the house. My mother was in a panic.

"Where have you been? You're five minutes late...I didn't know what to think...I was didn't call....I called for you...

"Mom, I'm home now." But I became aware of something. The smell. Alcohol. It had never been a factor. At some level, deep inside, I got scared.

"Mom, I'm going to my room."

"Don't walk past me when I'm talking to you."

"Sorry, mom. I can't...I got a lot of homework to do, and I want to get started."

"Then go. Go to your room. And don't come out till it's all done."

Well, it's not gonna stun you that there was no way I could do my homework. I did't know what I was going to do. But I knew I was NOT going to cry over this. I was no fag like my former best friend. Fourteen-year-old boys don't cry. Tomorrow I'd start hanging out more with Jeff. He'd always wanted to be better friends with me. Tomorrow was the day. The hell with Danny.

My dad came home about 7:00, and the shouting match began. I'd fixed myself a peanut butter sandwich about 6, so I just stayed in my room. I wanted so bad to fly to Danny's -- no, I did't. Well, yes I did, but not to Danny. To his mom. I knew my parents loved me, but they didn't show it. I knew Danny's parents loved me. I knew Danny loved me, but he'd thrown that all away. He may have given me my first sexual experience, but now I was free to experiment beyond him on my own.

When things quieted down about 11:00, I crept into the bathroom, brushed my teeth, crawled into bed, and read Huckleberry Finn, the chapter about the feud where Tom's friend is killed. I did cry over that. Then I went to sleep.

Which is what I gotta do now. Maybe that split is what's been causing all these thoughts in my head. Maybe that's the key to helping me get better. Good night.

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