Date: Fri, 17 Aug 2007 07:21:24 -0500 From: J.J. Subject: Understanding Sex-Part 1 The following is a work of erotic fiction involving underage boys. Or at least somewhat erotic, (a bit of foreshadowing here; if you stick with it, it should get better) but at any rate, if reading this is illegal in your present place of residence, then you should exit immediately. If you find the subject matter to be offensive, exit and if you're underage... EXIT! I wrote most of this back in 1988, when I was 14. Although inspired by actual events, quite a bit is pure fantasy. Which would make roughly between 5% and 93% of it true. Names have been changed to protect both the innocent and the guilty. Occasionally characters were assigned both first and last names, mostly because I just liked the way they sounded, but again, let me assure you that I made it all up and any resemblance to any person living or dead is purely coincidental. Originally it was like a journal. When I started writing, I was in no way ready to admit to myself that I was gay. So for the most part I'll not bother you that part. (Well, it's a relief to ME at any rate.) I HAVE edited the stories I wrote, and I've also rearranged them a bit. For example, this first installment was something I wrote after finally MAKING that big admission. That I was gay. (Possibly.) So OK, I wasn't exactly going to start advertising that fact, and at first my expectations were rather low. (More foreshadowing.) But I've started with this story just to establish the way things really WERE for me at that time. If you've read some of my previous stories, (and hopefully enjoyed them) then I think you should enjoy this one, and I hope you like Aaron a lot. I know I did. Understanding Sex- Part 1 Aaron So first I suppose it would help if I were to give a brief synopsis of exactly HOW I found myself at Brother Jack Furnier's Christian academy. I got busted. Pot. Oh right, I should also mention that my name's J.J. I'm 14. My foster-father is a fundamentalist preacher. And THAT should explain just about everything right there, but if we're going to start with THIS story, then I should also mention that right now it's early June and I'm at my Aunt Esther's up in Minneapolis. (Home is Atlanta,GA.) I'm up here because my old man felt called into evangelism. He's going to give it another shot this summer, just as he did last summer. So at any rate, my foster-parents and my foster-sister are all going to be traveling as a team. But having me along just might prove to be a bit counterproductive, so here I am. HOPING before the summer's over he's called to become a FULL-time evangelist.. but maybe I've run off the tracks a bit here. So the only OTHER thing I guess I should mention before getting back to the Christian academy, is that right AFTER I discovered I was about to have some decent values instilled in me, I decided to run away. That very night. I was on my way to Australia, but in the end it didn't work out too well. So with all THAT out of the way, we now join our regularly scheduled story. Wednesday, June 8... I guess I might as well start at the beginning. Which would be immediately after I was returned home, got my butt tore up again and then discovered that I was STILL going to that Christian academy whether I liked it or not. And if I EVER tried running away again, he'd have my butt locked up in juvenile and I'd find out what rough really was. So the academy was a big change from Spring Creek Middle School and it took some getting used to. I was in a class with eighteen junior high students, seventh grade through ninth grade. Each class period was initiated with the Pledge of Allegiance, a selected reading from the King James version of the Bible and prayer. Five times a day they went through this drill. Every student had his or her own individual study space where he or she could progress at their own pace. More or less. Because we only read text books approved by Brother Furnier and if we were supposed to be in social studies, then we'd best not be caught studying the literature book. Or anything else. If a student needed help, then he or she quietly placed a small replica American flag in the designated slot at the upper left corner of his or her individual study space. Our teacher, (Sister Farrar) must have walked five miles a day making sure we did not stray from the approved course of study, sternly peering over our shoulders at the most inopportune times, interrupted only by those small replica American flags being quietly placed in their designated slots. And when it was off to lunch, it was no talking, single file, eyes forward, hands out of pockets, no slouching. Which took some getting used to. So that first day I didn't have much appetite. I was just sitting there staring at my food when Aaron came up, sat down across from me and said, "Hey. I'm Aaron. You're new here, right?" I nodded disinterestedly. Even though I couldn't help but notice that he was really cute, I just assumed that he was also pretty much brainwashed. But he didn't seem put off by my lack of interest. "So how you like this place?" Very quietly I hissed, "So far I HATE this place." "Yeah, you and me both then" said Aaron. Well, in that case, I guessed maybe I should get to know him better. Of course when I found out he was only twelve (and a half) I had to sort of keep my distance at first, but before very long I discovered no one else at that place was openly rebellious except possibly Sharon Mattson. And I didn't like her. So it wasn't long until me and Aaron started hanging out quite a bit, especially after finding out he was there because HE'D been caught smoking pot. Because of the mandatory drug screens, neither of us was about to start up again, but we agreed we sure would if we could and maybe in the summer that's just what we WOULD do. Of course at the time I had no idea that I would be spending the summer up here and he had no idea he'd be spending the summer with his grandparents up in Rome. But I'm getting slightly ahead of myself again. So I'll tell you when we became best friends. It was the first week of February. Now every day after lunch we have Bible study. For this we do not occupy our individual study spaces and progress at our own pace, no, we instead bring our chairs up front, reverently and quietly arrange them into a two-tiered semi-circle, listen attentively and then discuss the wonderfulness of it all. So I think we were in II Samuel. I'm pretty sure it was. But anyway, we had reached King David. The Philestines had just defeated King Saul, killed him and captured the sacred Ark of the Covenant. David became king of Israel and soon enough he defeated the Philestines and recaptured the sacred Ark. The only reason I'm telling you all this is so you'll at least have an inkling of what I'm talking about. So we were discussing the return of the Ark to Jerusalem which soon lead to the short, sad story of Uzzah. You see, Uzzah and his brother were nice enough to supply a new cart to transport the Ark back to Jerusalem. But when the Ark reached the threshing floor of Nacon I think it was, the oxen drawing the cart stumbled. The Ark was about to fall off the cart! And so thinking fast (or possibly it was a reflex action, it probably was), Uzzah put his hand against the Ark to keep it from falling off and verily, verily the Lord was pleased. Well, to tell you the truth, the Lord was NOT pleased, in fact, Uzzah was struck DEAD right then and there. If you want to look it up, you can. I'm fairly sure it's in II Samuel. So I was just going to sit there and keep my mouth shut for a change, but I guess Sister Farrar wanted me involved, so she asked me what I thought the story meant. I knew the Bible-believing answer because my mom used to read Bible stories to me before I went to sleep, but since I didn't WANT to be involved in that class, I just said, "I'm not sure." Only Sister Farrar said I'd have to do a little better than that. Oh right, I clean forgot. I was always supposed to address her as ma'am. "I'm not sure ma'am" I said in a very respectful tone of voice. She said, "Look boy, don't get smart with me or I'll slap your face!" So of course that pissed me off but I still didn't say anything. "Well, we're waiting, J.J." she said. And one thing about that lady, she is very persistent. And she waited and she waited and waited some more until finally I could stand it no longer (and besides, if I didn't say something soon I was going to be sent to the office anyway), so at last I said, "Well, if the preacher trips coming down the aisle, I sure ain't going to try breaking his fall or anything." Then Aaron, who was sitting beside me, busted out laughing. Which almost beyond a doubt would have got him sent off to the office as it was, but after he stuck his palm out for a low-five, he DEFINITELY was. We both got fifteen licks, but Aaron said he didn't care, it had been worth it, so after all that we were almost inseparable. It wasn't long until I hardly thought about him being almost a year and a half younger than me. I mean that's not really a big deal anyway. And besides, he was good-looking. And he was the same size as I was too. So I started wondering if he'd started puberty. It pretty much looked like he had, but since we didn't have regular p.e. where we dressed out, I could only wonder. We weren't sleeping over at each other's houses or anything like that, we just hung out. Then he started helping me with my paper route almost every day and when I was at that treatment center, he took over until I got back. And so it wasn't long until we were often at each other's houses. Only he never spent the night with me and I never had a chance to see him undressed. Not until April 2rd, which was on a Saturday. Before then, there had been times when we might've gone to the bathroom at the same time, or maybe we'd take a piss out in the woods, but he always had his back to me and you know, I couldn't exactly run around in front of him to take a look. So I was getting VERY curious. OK. Early Saturday afternoon, April 2rd, I was over at Aaron's. So he had a bag of water balloons and he wanted to have a fight with them. Only I didn't want to do that even though it almost immediately occurred to me that this might make it necessary to change clothes afterwards. Unfortunately, I knew nothing of his plans before I showed up at his house, so I had no clothes to change into and to tell you the truth, it was not a warm day. Gray, overcast, low-fifties and windy. Not a real good day to get soaked. So see, I CAN postpone pleasure. "It's too cold today" I said. "We'll do it once it gets hot. You want to play some basketball?" His uncle was the head custodian at this elementary school not too far from his house. There was this old cracker box gym on campus. So about anytime he wanted, he could borrow the keys because sometimes he helped his uncle out. But anyway, Aaron said, "Shit. I'm tired of basketball." But then he had an idea. "OK, I'll play basketball on one condition. First we play basketball, then we have a water balloon fight. Deal?" "It's just too cold today" I repeated, "and I don't feel like walking home with my clothes wet." "Well, I was thinking we could go downstairs in the girl's bathroom and have it there and we'll just do it in our underwear. How about that?" Oh. Well... OK. And in case you're wondering, there really was nothing perverse about using the girl's bathroom, since for one thing no girls were going to use it on a weekend and more importantly, girls do seem to be more refined than boys. Girls do not generally piss in the floor. Boys do. So we went over and played for awhile. That gym was a sweat box, so soon enough we were hot and sweaty and so I said, "Well, let's go ahead and have that damn water balloon fight." "Well, let's play one more game" said Aaron. "I thought you were tired of basketball" I said. "I am, but I'm going to play one game in my shorts. You want to?" Well... OK. It wasn't a very good idea though. Aaron was down to his shorts before I finished getting my socks off and he dribbled the length of the floor, missed a lay-up, rebounded and then returned to where I had just pulled off my pants. "Maybe we ought to forget about basketball and just go ahead and have our water balloon fight" he said. "Chickened out?" "Well, the doors might be locked but somebody could still come up and look in. And I've got loose elastic. I start jumping around and I might lose something" said Aaron. "You ready to go downstairs?" We probably would've gotten blisters on our feet anyway. So we left our clothes upstairs and entered the girl's bathroom where almost a hundred water balloons were fully armed and ready and with little in the way of opening ceremonies beyond "You ready?", "Yeah, I guess I'm ready", we began hurling them at each other. I probably hit him with about as many as he hit me with. Of course we were both very quickly soaked, but actually his shorts stayed up fairly well. They did sag at the waist but he kept yanking them back up before I got to see anything. His wienie didn't flop out, although it looked like it could at any second. And by then there was no doubt at all if he'd grown one, the contour of it moving beneath his wet shorts was clearly outlined and I did glimpse his balls partially exposed, or at least one of them. Looked like it was coming along pretty good, too. So I couldn't help it, I started getting hard. By the way, I was wearing good underwear so everything was securely in place. And as for my erection; well, there wasn't much I could do about it. Really, I didn't hardly have time to think about it, being in the middle of a water balloon fight and all, it was just stiff, that's all. I sure never considered leaving the scene and Aaron never commented about it. I'll admit at the very onset I tried to keep it turned away from him, but there was no way to do that completely unless I turned my back and in a water balloon fight turning your back is the same as a surrender. Except you can turn your back whenever you throw your balloons in hand and then race back to your stockpile to get more ammunition. That's OK. On the battle raged and the floor became very wet indeed. It was smooth concrete painted green and VERY slippery when wet. It's a wonder we didn't kill ourselves, I have no idea how many times we landed on our asses. Surely his penis must've flashed momentarily into sight when his feet flew out from under him and down he went, but I never saw it, being distracted by my own pratfall or a water balloon right in the face or having my back turned as I was gathering up more balloons. It was always something. Well. I didn't know it at the time, but finally his supply of water balloons was exhausted. My supply was dwindling fast, that I did know. Anyway, I was racing back to what remained of my supplies when whoops, my feet again flew out from under me. Down I went. Down he went beside me. What was THIS? He was after MY balloons! No fair! So we grappled and slid around on the wet floor. I pushed a balloon into his face and it broke. "Glub!" he sputtered, then without warning, he pulled at the front of my shorts, plopped a water balloon on my ERECT PENIS and busted it. He busted the water balloon, I mean. For what it's worth, I THINK he meant to jerk my shorts down real quick, plant the balloon, pull my shorts back up and THEN bust the balloon, but those balloons are fragile things. Then again, maybe not. Well, it hardly matters anyway. And maybe he wasn't trying to touch my wienie and maybe he was, but whatever, he did. It felt like an electric shock. A very wonderful electric shock. "Oh shit, NOW you have DONE it!" I squeaked but he'd already scrambled to his feet and with fiendish laughter was racing away. In frustration I hurled my remaining two balloons. They splatted harmlessly against a stall. He fled out into the hallway, the door slamming shut behind him. "Shit!" I thought, "He's headed upstairs! He's going to get dressed!" Only that wasn't the case. Between the girl's bathroom and the boy's bathroom is a janitor's closet and in that closet was a sink and a faucet and connected to that faucet was about thirty feet of water hose. His uncle used it to hose down the floors. Well, just as I hit the door, Aaron let me have it with that water hose, full force. It was awfully cold. Naturally, my normal instinct would be to retreat, and I did, but he was right behind me about to die he was laughing so hard and he wasn't ABOUT to stop hosing me. He cornered me. Getting more than just a little fed up, I spun around to face him and grab that damn hose. GLUB!! THEN before I could get the water out of my eyes and nose and mouth, he stuck it down the front of my shorts. Only that was a bad move on his part, because it allowed me to get my hands on the hose. Then he slipped. So the hose was all mine. "You die Aaron!" I screamed. It is hard to think straight when you're getting hit in the face with a stream of cold water, I know. Well, he didn't flee out the door, he instead fled toward the sinks and I quickly cornered HIM. And then I hosed him down good. Right off I was intent on drowning him, but I just happened to notice his shorts were sagging again. Pretty badly, in fact. Well, he had his back to me, but it looked like he had a cute ass, (it was about half uncovered), so I hosed those shorts right down to his ankles. Not getting it in his face, he turned towards me, probably intending to rush me. He didn't seem at all concerned about his shorts. I guess not, because when he almost tripped on them, he just kicked the things right on off. He DID have hair! A little dark brown bush. And a big fat wienie. It was about four inches long I guess. SOFT. By the way, he has blue eyes. Big blue eyes. Damn! They are beautiful! Possibly it's a little late to be mentioning his eyes though. Whatever, I sprayed him in the face to drive him back, then I hosed his midsection. I BLASTED that wienie. One time I had it going almost like a pinwheel. Then naturally it began to stiffly bounce and bob as it struggled to rise up. Which of course was enough to make me like gah gah for a few moments, but then I got scared. I had made him get hard! NOW what would he think? Shit! I was so fucking stupid! So I stopped hosing him. He said, "Do that again. It tickles!" He didn't know what it MEANT to tickle like that. Up till then I had just assumed that I was the only person on earth who didn't even know about orgasms until I was past eleven and here he was past twelve and already into puberty and had smoked pot and he STILL didn't know about them. Not that getting high has anything to do with knowing about orgasms I don't guess, but I just assumed if he was worldly enough for that, then surely he knew all about sins of the flesh. Well, was he ever in for a surprise! So there he stood seemingly not the least bit concerned that I could see his big fat one sticking up in the air. I guess erect it had to be close to seven inches. And him only twelve and a half! Holy SHIT! But sadly, I am fast approaching the end of this part of the story. Because Aaron said, "Well, are you just going to stand there running water out into the hall, or are you... oh SHIT! SHIT!! The HALL! Shit, J.J., the HALL!!!" Startled, I directed the hose away from under the bathroom door as Aaron, displaying a good deal more presence of mind than I, dashed out into the hallway. Seconds later, my water was cut off. Hearing no sound, I timidly ventured out into the hall and discovered it awash. Aaron was sitting forlornly leaning back against the wall, his arms locked around his knees and his above-average organ down below half mast and slowly wilting. But it still looked fairly impressive. Only the hall was flooded. "Aaron! There any old towels, rags, ANYTHING in the closet?" "Yes" said Aaron listlessly without moving, "but I'd really like to know what good it'll do." "Well fuck, we can put 'em up against the bottoms of the classroom doors so no more water gets in", I said frantically if not grammatically. I was at that moment frantically tossing things about in the closet, looking for rags, towels, damn! ANYTHING! "They're in this bag" he said sadly. I hadn't even heard him get up. "I guess you know you're messing my uncle's closet up." By then his noodle was completely limp and probably even less than four inches. As was mine. Limp. "We'll straighten it up later" I said. "Right now we've got to get that water up!" But we only had enough towels and rags for five doors. The rag bag being empty, I asked, "You know where anymore are? Hey! What you doing?" He was pulling my shorts off, actually. "We stick your's and mine down there and we just might have it stopped" he said with great practicality. "Well, go get your's then" I said. So he did, then we hurriedly water vacced and mopped the hall, the bathrooms and the supply closet. Only when we were finished with all that did Aaron suggest maybe we should go upstairs and get our clothes back on. With mixed emotions I had to agree with him. Then we buffed the hall, only he thought it still looked like shit, so we had to strip the wax off the entire floor, apply new wax and buff and buff and buff some more. All because of a water balloon fight. Long about dark, his uncle knocked on the back door. "Hi Uncle Jay" said Aaron with remarkable nonchalance, "We decided we'd rewax the hall. Does it look OK?" "Well, bless your hearts" he said, "It does look a sight better than it did. A whole lot better. It looks like you were just a little careless when you mopped...", (in reference to the water stained classroom carpets)... "but they'll dry out and nobody will ever know the difference. Overall, you boys did a real good job. I wasn't expecting this at all, but I sure do want you to know how much I appreciate it." (Fortunately, we caught the water before it flooded more than about a foot into the classrooms.) That night I was awake a long time worrying about how Aaron might reconsider the events just prior to our rewaxing the hall, but come Monday morning, beyond a sly grin he acted like nothing had ever happened. Of course I was sort of hoping he would mention that strange tickling sensation he'd felt but after a couple of weeks I guessed he wasn't going to. Of course I could've broached the subject myself, but as mentioned before, I am a goddamn chicken shit. But there were still a few more incidents. Like another water balloon fight for instance. Just barely a week later. He was at my house Sunday afternoon, April 10th and after we played Monopoly for awhile he mentioned how he had another bag, and he wanted to use them up that very afternoon. "Can't" I said. "My old man would raise mortal hell. Shit, I can't hardly do ANYthing on Sunday." Which was the truth. "So he won't know. How's he going to know? We can do it in our underwear again. We just won't mess with the water hose. So you want to?" "Maybe" I said. "What do you mean, maybe?" "I mean I'm thinking about it, damn it." "You ARE" said Aaron. "Maybe" I answered. "Oh come on. There's nothing to do around here" he said. "We won't make THAT big a mess. Why not?" "Let's just do it some other time" I said. But I was weakening. "But now's perfect. Nobody will be around. You're not chicken are you?" "No, I just don't want to." "Well, why NOT?" "Because my mom might wonder how my underwear got so wet." Which really was highly unlikely, I mean my folks don't check my underwear all that often, you know, but...well, hang in there, you're about to SEE why I said that. "So we'll just do it without our underwear then. You want to do that?" "You mean NAKED?" "Sure. Why not? You chicken?" "Oh shit. If it'll get rid of those fucking water balloons, I will then. Naked. Both of us. So you said it. Now are YOU chicken?" "Let's go" he answered. So you see? THAT'S why I said that. Once we started throwing the water balloons, I almost forgot about being naked even if I hardly forgot about Aaron. I didn't get a boner though. Nor did he. I've heard that if you go to a nudist camp, right at first all that nudity is likely to give you an erection, but it isn't long until the novelty of it all wears off and you don't automatically pop up hard. Well possibly, but that doesn't mean you get tired of seeing certain people. And that sure was the case with Aaron. Aaron was CUTE. He wasn't easy to figure out though. Like for instance, right after that water balloon fight we were drying off and he started popping me with his towel. He knew how to do that, but I never got the hang of it, I'm just not the most coordinated person in the world. So I said, "Hey! Cut it out!" He instead popped me again and since he was laughing about it, I figured he had no intention of stopping, so I guessed I'd just get his damn towel. I waded right in, even though I got popped a couple more times, once right on my dick. So I grabbed his arms and started trying to wrestle the towel away from him. At first he resisted causing a good deal of incidental body contact, but then all of a sudden he wanted ME to stop. Who started this? He said, "I'll leave you alone, I promise. Just let go of me." "Let go of that towel then." "I have to finish drying off. Now cut it out, please? I promise I won't bother you anymore. OK?" Oh shit. I really owed him a few red spots at the very least, but I felt like I was about to get aroused. "Well you'd BETTER. I MEAN it!" I said sternly. Then I let go and moved away from him. "Candy!" WHAP! Right on my butt. Then he ran. Oh, but I COULD run. Seriously. And I could outrun him. So I caught him before he reached the door, grabbed him around his chest with one hand and smacked his ass with my other hand as hard as I could four times. Which apparently was pretty hard. "OK! Ouch! I quit! Ouch! I prom- Damn it, that HURT! I quit! OUCH!" Then I shoved him back into the bathroom, zoomed across the hallway into the classroom where our clothes were and locked the door. I kept him locked out for a good ten minutes. I had to because soon as I started smacking his bottom, I started getting hard. Well, I'm sorry, but I did. I'm pretty sure he didn't see it though. And once I got dressed it was OK. Until I let him in, it was OK, because just as soon as I let him in, he jumped on my back! And him still naked. Well OK then, I could also wrestle pretty good, so before he could blink, I had him on the floor. I almost touched him down there. I probably WOULD'VE in a few seconds, but no sooner did I put him on the floor than he wanted to quit AGAIN. So I let him up. I was getting shaky all over, so I guessed I'd better. But it STILL wasn't over, for no sooner did he get his clothes on than he was jumping on me again, and THIS time I swear, he tried to UNZIP my pants and he was hard, I'm almost sure of it. So you know I grabbed between his legs and sure enough before long he wanted to quit again. By that time I really felt like unzipping his pants, pulling his dick out and lifting him three or four feet off the floor. I guess that would have smarted. But oh well, I didn't. I quit. Again. I really did like him. And he liked me. I'm sure of that. So I wanted to play around, but I wanted us to be best friends more, so I let him call the shots, like if he wanted to wrestle, we'd wrestle and if he started grabbing I'd grab back and if he wanted to stop, I'd stop. Sure, I was hoping before long he'd go a bit further, but if he didn't, I guessed I could live with it. Well, the following few weeks I have no idea how many times we wrestled around but while he often grabbed between my legs which would result in my doing it back, he didn't attempt to unzip my pants again. He didn't buy any more water balloons. He didn't wonder about strange tickling sensations. He never even grabbed around long enough to give me an excuse to CAUSE any strange sensations. I was about to give up hope. Maybe I give up too easy. I suppose I do. Tuesday afternoon May 9th after we got through with the paper route, we went over to his house. His old man works second shift and his mom left him a note saying she would be home around 7:30 and there was something to eat on the stove. And he had better be home when she got back. So we watched TV for awhile and then he started getting playful again, like he jumped on my back and before long we were rolling in the floor. Then he started grabbing between my legs again. "Aaron" I said, "if you don't cut that out I'm going to yank your pecker off and flush it down the commode!" Naturally I hoped he WOULDN'T stop grabbing at me, but I sure wasn't expecting him to reach down INSIDE my pants and give my BUSH a yank, I didn't expect that at ALL. And he also brushed against my penis. "Oh shit, now you've DONE it!" I said. Well damn it, he yanked MY bush, so I guessed I could yank HIS bush. But to do that, first I had to unfasten his belt and unsnap his pants. And zip them down, because they were kind of tight. I was expecting him to start in with the "Hey, let's cut it out" but I had decided that this time I WASN'T going to stop until I at LEAST got even. But he didn't say anything at ALL about quitting, in fact he put his hand into my pants again and started YANKING on my dick. When we first started wrestling, I wasn't stiff, but by the time he reached in the second time, you BET I was. And so was he. I wanted to see it, so I just yanked his underwear down and grabbed it. What a rush THAT was! Oh man! Then he started pulling my pants down. So I started pulling his down. But he still wasn't yelling at me to cut it out, he was laughing. I could not BElieve it and my ears were ringing but neither one of us was trying to get our pants back up, since I was trying to get his off and he was trying to get mine off. I knew beyond a doubt he had every intention of pulling them completely off when he started in on my shoes. Well, by the time he had my shoes off, I'd yanked his pants AND shoes off; I mean his shoes were still stuck in his pants legs. Then I went for his shirt. I didn't want to rip it, which I would've unless I could get his hands unlatched from my pants, so damn, I just kicked them off one leg, he yanked the other leg clear, then I got his arms up and removed his shirt. Then he latched onto my dick again, and this time he was really and truly PULLING on it. So all at once, without even thinking about it, I started pulling on his. But then all at once, he went "Hey, J.J. Time out a second, time out, OK?" So I KNOW what you're thinking at this point. I bet you're thinking, "Shit! Are they going to chicken out AGAIN? I am getting sick and fucking TIRED of this!" Something like that, huh? Yeah, well, I was sort of thinking along those lines myself. Although one very hopeful sign was that he HADN'T let go of me. So of course I hadn't let go of his either. We just stopped pounding the living shit out of them, that's all. And in reply to his time out request, I said, "Yeah, what?" "It's gonna feel a lot better if we go slower, you know that don't you?" And I don't know, maybe that's the best rush I've experienced up till now. There've been some really good ones, but this just might have topped EVERYTHING. And it was really WAS great. It was AWESOME! So I guess you might be wondering why I don't seem to be going into a great deal of detail, beyond it's being awesome. I'm not going into all that much detail, because... well, that evening when I was walking back home I was feeling pretty great, I mean I was on cloud nine. Almost. But even so, there was this nagging doubt. It was because of how Aaron was acting after we'd both shot our loads. (So yes, he CAN shoot off. Well, I know I'D been wondering. I figured he COULD, I just didn't know if he HAD yet.) But apparently it came as no surprise to him. And yes, by now I could as well. Every day I could. Just hadn't ever felt quite that good, you know. But the thing was, after we'd caught our breath, he was acting, well, I don't know, like we'd done something wrong. So I was worried. I mean shit, I knew all about fundamentalist guilt-trips, but somehow it never occured to me that it would bother HIM. Although it really should have come as no surprise. So anyway, I HOPED it would continue, I HOPED we'd go a lot further, and what the hell, I often enough felt guilty after even jerking myself off, but it sure didn't stop me from going at it again. But the next morning before school he came up to me and asked, "Hey, J.J. You're not going to tell anybody about what we did last night are you?" "Well shit no" I answered. "What, you think I'm crazy or something? I mean, you know how it is, everybody would think we were queers or something. But as long as if we're the only ones to know about it... I mean we were just playing around anyway, right?" "Well, the thing is I don't WANT to be queer. ... So I don't know, maybe we shouldn't do that anymore." And we haven't. So we WERE good friends, and come next fall we still might be, but somehow I sort of doubt it. So I wrote about it because for awhile, it was really great. And Aaron was really cool. I guess he still is. And I HOPE... well, that's about it really. I hope. P.S. I have to deal with this fundamentalist crap all the time. But at any rate, I guess I might feel a little worse about it all if it had been me instigating everything. Meaning I SHOULD feel better seeing as how Aaron started it. Like always, I was too much of a chicken shit. So how come I STILL end up feeling bad about it? Comments more than welcome. jjjanicki@gmail.com And really, it'll get better. Trust me on this.