The Boys in the Gym

Part I

Disclaimer: The following is a work of fiction. It is created with the purpose of entertainment. Therefore, If it does not entertain you, then you probably should not read it. The author takes no responsibly if the following material offends you in anyway, direct or indirect. It contains graphic material about homosexual encounters. It should not be read by minors. If local, state, federal, provincial, etc. law prohibits you from reading this because of age, or otherwise, then discontinue now. The author takes no responsibility for the reader(')s(') ignorance of such laws. This literature is not intended to encourage any illegal or immoral behavior.

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I am eighteen years old. My name is Daemon. I have failed seventh grade twice and sixth grade once. I am an adult that has yet to go through, or even start high school. I guess you could say I lack motivation, or that I am some kind of slacker, whatever. You can't really blame me though, my parents are bastards; they keep moving me from place to place. That was until my dad died. My mom is an alcoholic, quite the Biatch.

Anyhow, I am walking from my first period class to go to my second, gym. I don't know why I take gym. Most people don't take it after sixth grade, because its not required. I guess you could say I am insecure and want to beat all the little kids at sports. But the real reason is so much more sadistic.

This little punk kid, who thinks he is Hercules or something, always comes and starts talking shit to me for no reason. Maybe its because I have facial hair, or maybe cause I am the only bastard in my middle school who drives to school. Anyhow, I walk by pretending he isn't there. He only weighs like 80 pounds, so there is no way he can stop me from moving.

I go to the locker room, it is my favorite part of the entire day. There are all kinds of boys. They are all over the place, and they are all in their underwear. There are the boys with the stylish clothes, who try and show off. You have the ones who hide in the bathroom stalls because they are insecure. You got the ones who are insecure and who don't wanna seem that way, so they dress quickly in front of everyone, hoping that no one will make comments about their weak bodies.

I usually try to keep a casual conversation going when I am in the locker room. I have my reasons. I don't want to be popping a boner in front of 150 people for starters, not from lack of size I assure you. It just isn't the type-a thing you do in front of 150 people. And ease the tension you know, everyone is always so nervous. The know if the biggest, oldest guy in the room can be calm and carefree, then they can too. So anyways there is this one guy, Jake. He skipped a grade, and he just turned 11. The rest of the puny 6th graders here all just turned 12, or are going to soon. I don't always looking at him, cause I don't want to freak him out. But Whenever his pants come off, I take a few quick mental pictures, and save them in my mental photo album for later usage.

I pay close attention to his details. He has small hands, he moves quickly, and with great coordination, he has green eyes, not the kinda brown with a hint of green eyes, I mean he has some wild jungly eyes. He has a skinny body, with feminine legs, he usually wears boxers, but every now and then wears briefs, I think maybe because he was switching from briefs to boxers so guys wouldn't give him a hard time (it is believed here that only whimps wear briefs). Anyhow he is 4 foot 11 inches tall and I am 5'11. He weighs 90 pounds and I weigh 135 pounds. So, You can imagine I am a lot bigger than him. He is smaller than all the other boys in the class, but much more full of energy.

In class him and I always play these silly childish games. For instance, when we are sitting in rows waiting for the coaches to get ready and all that jazz, one of us will try to move our faces into a place where the other can't see by using obstacles between, like people and risers and stuff. Or when coach tells us to run, he will try to catch me, but never can cause I am so much faster.

The track coach tried to get me to join, cause I could run a mile in six and a half minutes, and thats with no training or anything. I just didn't really see the point in runnin' around in circles all day. I thought that was something you were supposed to try to avoid.

Anyhow, I like to think that I like boys, who like guys, and that I can somehow tell if they do. Jake always gives me this look. I don't really know what to call it. He just gets this eager look in his jungle eyes like he wants...something... There really is no way to know, I don't think.

One Day I noticed that he used the bathroom by the band hall after school, everyday. I had wood shop, right next to the band hall, last period. I could get to the bathroom right before he came in. So of course I started to make going a habit. At first I tried to start casual conversation like in the locker room. But I guess something about holding our dick in front of someone you don't know that well makes you a little quiet. Anyhow, I stopped caring about the conversation part, and just wanted to be around him more than just in gym class. So I kept going to the bathroom after school.

My dick grew into its full size when I was like 14, and I have really wanted to use it since, but I guess just never really got around to it. It is Seven inches long. I guess I am kinda big, but I am definitely big in comparison with the younger guys that I like. Anyways, One time I came to the bathroom after school, and I was just ridiculously horny. I got one of those boners that tent our pants up, and no matter what you do, it just gets harder and harder. You could even swear when you get one, that your are just a little bit longer, maybe 10% or something.

So I go to used the bathroom after school with this rigid tent in my pants. I waited for him to come in before I even pulled it out. It was the kind of hard-on that you had to kind of move your body around to pull it out of your pants. I stood back a foot from the urinal. My dick looks as long as his face. My cock was throbbing with hardness only three inches away from his face, I could practically feel his breath on it. He didn't say anything. He did stare at it for quite a while. And then he gave me one of those wild looks, full of eagerness.

Later I was talking to him in second period, we were playing Frisbee golf outside.

"Hey Jake, what's up?"

"Your mother", he gave me the finger.

"Oh, is that how its gonna be?". I pushed him a little.

"You wanna start something big guy," he glanced down just for a sec to my belt line and then back to my face.

"Na man, I was just playing."

"Yeah, that's what I thought."

"Jake, no offense, but you don't look like you think too often." I teased.

"Your one to talk," he then coughed and kinda slipped in the word "drop-out" between coughing noises.

"Hey, so....Wha'dare you doing this weekend?" I am known to randomly change subjects. It catches people off guard.


"No you effin' moron, the guy behind you", and of course there was no guy behind him.

"Oh...I gotta go to Mass on Sunday."

"Great a Catholic boy, who is going to have a guilt complex," I thought to myself. As if I didn't carry enough guilt on my shoulders as it was. I failed in school, I am gay, I like boys, and I have a lot of reasons to feel guilty I kinda didn't want another one, and I kinda didn't care.

"Wha'dabout Saturday?" I asked casually.

"No, I'm not doin' anything, why...ya wanna...hang out or somethin" He put a special emphasis on the hang, and again gave my belt line those eager eyes in a subtle way.

"Yeah man, let's do somethin'. I can pick you up."

"Uhhh...Why don't ya jus' come over to my house, we can watch a movie, or play PS2, I have a media room." He bragged.

"Yeah, sure just here," I handed him some paper, "write your address down here..."

"...5555 Blueberry Way...over by the library" He explained. He was definitely a rich kid. He only had one sibling, a sister. I hope she doesn't get in our way.

(Sorry readers, I know I am a bastard for ending the story here. There is more to come.)

© 2006 Daemon Ampericion