This story, like almost every other story found in this Nifty section, involves sex between underage boys. So if for any reason it is illegal for you to be reading such a story, please exit.
Although to be honest, there might not be as much sex as is to be found in other stories on this site. But it still has some, and I hope you find the story to be enjoyable or at the very least, not really awful.
This disclaimer has been recycled.
And that concludes this disclaimer.
“If we wait for the moment when everything, absolutely everything is ready, we shall never begin.” ~ Ivan Turgenev
I first started writing porno when I was fourteen. Undoubtedly, some of the sexual gymnastics I described were anatomically impossible - or at least highly improbable - but at fourteen I had no way of knowing if they were or not, and more importantly, neither did my audience. There were no girls in my audience, only boys, ages twelve through fourteen, and we weren't very sophisticated. Eager, at times almost to the point of panting, but by no stretch of the imagination were we sophisticated.
Although I did think that I was more sophisticated than my audience, because what they never knew was, I had no interest in girls. At fourteen you were supposed to be interested, but I wasn't: I was only interested in getting my audience hot and bothered, because that caused some very obvious tent-like formations. In my dreams I hoped my stories of girls having all their clothes ripped off and then having sex with boys who were almost the same age as us would cause one or more boys in my audience to lose control to such an extent that they could stand it no longer, but at fourteen, the best I ever managed was a few wet spots. Not once did a boy ever say anything like, “Oh my God, I'm going to jerk off right now!” I'd heard that it could happen, that at our age it wasn't an unusual occurrence, but still, I'd never actually witnessed it.
So I guessed my stories needed a little more work, starting with some additional research, and since experimentation with real-life girls was out of the question, the best place to start was in the stacks of nearby Enormous State University.
(The way things are, it's probably best not to reveal the actual name of the university. Much of my information came from The Kinsey Reports, and even then, discovering that minors could gain unsupervised access to titles such as “Sexual Behavior in the Human Female” or “Sexual Behavior in the Human Male” could have caused some controversy. Dr. Joycelyn Elders had recently been fired from her post as Surgeon General due to her controversial remarks on masturbation, after all. Just for saying that masturbation was a part of human sexuality and that perhaps it should be promoted as a means of preventing riskier sexual activities amongst young people. Perhaps. Only perhaps!)
So ESU it will remain, even if I've managed once again to get off subject. Or at least, almost. I mean, maybe that's why my first attempts at inciting some masturbation failed, because it was controversial.
Or maybe not, because by the time I was fifteen I'd managed what I thought was an absolute masterpiece, and whether it was or not, it worked. I had an audience of three. Two were thirteen, and as it turned out they were open to any suggestions of a sexual nature, because not even a third of the way through my thirty-seven-page story, Ellis (age fourteen) made just such a suggestion. It came out like this: “Shit! Time out. Time out, damn it! You're getting me horny as shit and I need to jerk off right now!” Although, apparently still not completely sure of himself – because after all, it was a bit controversial - he glanced over at the rest of us and added, “So you want to?” and the two thirteen-year-olds breathlessly agreed that they'd like nothing better and soon enough their clothes were off, they were off to the races and I thought it was the most wonderful thing I'd ever seen in my life.
And at that time, it was, even if I'd been forced to take a rain check. I thought I'd managed it well enough, because what I said was, “Well, actually, I jerked off just before coming over, so I guess I'll still have to wait awhile. Right now it would be like beating on a dead horse, if you know what I mean, but if y'all really must, then I'll just wait until you're finished.” Needless to say, though, I was hoping that they wouldn't want me to leave until they were finished, and thanks be to whom or whatever, it never occurred to any of them.
It almost felt as though I was floating on my way back home that afternoon. I'd never before been privy to controversial behavior such as that, and I thought it was the most gloriously wicked thing ever! And not only that, apparently there were going to be repeat performances because, once spent, Ellis said that I should continue on with my story the next day when they'd all be ready to go once again.
As for myself, I was ready long before getting back home - in fact, I managed a nice quiver just by rubbing myself with my hand in my pocket. That's one advantage of delayed puberty: there are no messy after-effects. Aside from that, though, I couldn't think of any others.
Although I could hardly be expected to be interested in girls, so there was at least that much, and due to my often expecting the worst, I'd come to believe I wasn't likely to start until I was at least eighteen when I'd be able to see a doctor on my own and could be treated for what was obviously a medical problem. (The ESU library also had some interesting books in their pediatrics section, many of which featured photographs of completely naked pediatric patients.)
That should explain why I had mixed emotions going home that day, though. On one hand, I was elated. Avery, Jim and Ellis had been so turned on by my story, they'd gotten totally naked and jerked off right in front of me! So there were all those wonderful mental images, fresh in my mind. Avery was barely five feet tall, scrawny as could be (almost my size at the time) but his dick was decently long and skinny. He'd just started growing some hair and wasn't capable of producing much cum, but it was at least something and he was very proud of it.
Jim was a few inches taller, probably outweighed me by at least thirty pounds, but he had a cute little bush and his dick was probably four to four and a half inches and fairly big around. He produced nothing more than a watery jet, but he was proud of himself as well.
Ellis was no taller than Jim, and didn't weigh as much, but his bush seemed almost fully developed, he had a nice set of balls and even though his dick was probably only about average, I would have settled for it. He produced what seemed to be quite a bit of cum, and near as I could tell, it was mature.
Then there was their enthusiasm as they went about getting their selves off. There was no modesty and, once finished, no shame. So if asked prior to that episode if I would have settled for being able to see that: only once and never again, I would have said yes in a heart beat, and I also might have believed myself. But afterwards I would have discovered that I'd lied, because I could hardly wait until the next time.
Except for that small problem. I didn't want them to see mine and I wasn't sure how much longer I could finesse my way out of it.
But maybe, just maybe, (I lied to myself), I could manage it once more. Because I had to see them again, I had to!
And besides, whether I should say so or not, I was proud of my story and I was just dying to have the rest of it heard and appreciated.
No, really, I thought it was well-written, with lots of unexpected twists and turns and some premature ejaculations. Going off too soon is a great way of prolonging things, because one: it was only to be expected at their age even if it never is (expected); two: the boys still wanted very badly to do it; so three, that led to more foreplay. Plus, I opened my story with an adrenalin pumping chase involving three pissed to the max rednecks who were intent on killing one of my main characters. So that's how he ended up in a young girl's basement with his clothes practically torn off. (Although, of course, it wasn't really the girl's basement, but rather her parents', only her parents were conveniently out of town.) But at any rate, that led to the young and sexually ignorant (but very curious) girl accidentally seeing more of the boy than expected, and because she was in her night gown, the boy also saw more of her than the girl was expecting. At thirteen and fourteen, boys practically live for unexpected sightings.
Apparently, because before I'd even reached page fifteen, Avery wailed, “Oh God! Jimbo's done it to me again!” and with that, he started feverishly working on his pants.
“Me too!” exclaimed Ellis. (And I was very glad to hear that as well.) It was getting better and better. Especially since Jim wasn't saying anything, he was just panting and working on getting out his clothes, so there I was, feeling both aroused and awfully smug - I was so good, it seemed as though there should be some kind of a law against what I was doing to them - and there probably was - but then I was snapped back to reality when Ellis added, “And this time, Jimbo, you're going to get naked and do it with us.” (Until I moved into that neighborhood, I was just Jim, but the thirteen-year-old Jim who was there first thought that would be confusing, so Jimbo it was from then on out.)
And now I was being asked to be part of their gang. Or, to be more specific, I was being asked to join in their secret ritual, one that I'd been unaware of up until then, and I honestly would have liked to...
But for my medical condition. So thinking a bit too fast for my own good, I stammered, “Um... well, you might not believe this, but I just lost it a minute ago.”
“You're kidding!” exclaimed Avery, “God, I can't wait until I'm fifteen. Or at least, I don't think I can, but, that fast? That is amazing!”
So I shrugged and started blushing.
“I think he's making it up,” said Ellis.
And then he added, “So let's see it, then. You can't just watch us, you're going to have to get naked too. ... One way or another.”
Then my mouth dropped open and I got that deer-in-the-headlights look. There's no way that I couldn't have, because now not only was I in danger of being exposed, they were also about to know that I was a liar.
But then on the other hand, they were all naked again. “Damn it, why did I have to do that?”
Honestly, I was hoping the floor of Jim's tree house would suddenly open up beneath me, but on the other hand, they were all naked with boners again. So there are mixed emotions and then there was the position I was in, and it was almost enough to fry my brain.
Maybe if I tried hard enough though, I could still talk my way out of it. So I stammered something, (I have no idea what), then gave up and trailed off uncertainly.
“What?” demanded Ellis, “You got something we ain't ever seen before?”
I didn't know if they had or not, because I was also uncircumcised. It's common enough in Europe, but not in the U.S. and definitely not in The South. It was better that I was uncircumcised, that's what my father told me once when he was in one of his mellow moods, but up till then it had only made me feel different. I was already different and to me, being uncircumcised only reinforced that fact.
Still, though, I thought I should at least try explaining again. Only this time, I got no further than “????” Or to put that into actual words, I still hadn't thought of a good place to start from.
Not that it really mattered, because that's when Jim the First cut in excitedly with, “Let's get him!”
I was in his tree house, so my options were limited, but I opened my mouth once more, trying to say something. Anything. Just anything at all. Only it was too late, because now they were wrestling on me. That, and trying to pull my pants down.
So I was trying to squirm free, but there were three naked boys wrestling on me, and they were unmindful of their erections. I wasn't, but it seemed as though they were. So again, there are mixed emotions and then there's me about to be exposed by three boys with their boners more often than not pressed into my side. Or into my stomach. Or rubbing up against my thigh. My bare thigh.
And then Ellis said, “God, Jimbo, you're not even close to starting. Not even close.” It almost sounded like he was disappointed.
And if he was, then that made at least two of us. I would have thought that I would known exactly when my underpants were pulled down, but I wasn't aware of it until just then. I guess I was distracted by some other things.
It could have been one of the worst moments in my life. I have no idea how bad it could have been, but before the worst could start, (probably some actual tears of shame), Avery sighed theatrically and said, “Well, I guess we need to have another healing service.”
“Yeah,” giggled Jim the First, “this definitely calls for a laying on of hands.”
“Well, quit making fun of him,” said Avery.
“I'm not making fun of him, I'm just saying, that's all.” So it really didn't sound like Jim was all that contrite, but...
???!!??? .... What?!? No matter how hard I try, it seems that I can never avoid at least a little internal dialogue. Under the circumstances, though, I hope it's forgivable, because at that moment I was incapable of anything else.
And that was before the first instance of this “laying on of hands” occurred, because when it did - when Ellis speculatively took my poor little diseased penis between his thumb and index finger and pulled up on it slightly – at that point, my head was full of internal dialogue, but I can't recall any of it, because it all seemed to be in a foreign language.
Or at least, it was foreign to me. It was the first time I'd ever been touched that way by anyone else, and I gasped. It was a very audible gasp, but right then, it was all I could manage.
Then he pulled back down, and finally, I managed, “Oh, shit.” No exclamation point yet, but I had a feeling that there would be one coming fairly soon.
“Feels good, huh?” He didn't need to ask that question, but I emphatically shook my head yes.
Then he added, “I haven't ever seen one like yours before. ... Well, I guess maybe I've seen some pictures, but... you like being that way?”
Even if I'd been in my right mind, it would have been difficult to make any comparisons, but I was definitely liking it a lot more than before.
But there were so many firsts that day. Almost from the time I first discovered sex, I'd dreamed of something like that happening, but up until then I never really knew what I was hoping for. It was something that I couldn't put into words, it was just something. Something secret. Something that could only be shared with other boys who were almost like me. Possibly even exactly like me, and if not, then at least close enough. But I guess the reason I can't come up with anything more than that vague “something” is that up until then I didn't think anything like that was ever going to happen, so I had no idea what I could dream for. I did have some long range dreams that went far beyond what we were up to at that very moment, but I'd mostly accepted that those goals weren't going to be realized until after I was out on my own, and at fifteen, that still seemed to be almost an eternity away.
But I wish that there was some way to recapture the feelings I had that day, some way that I could put them into words so that it would feel the same now as it did then. It's not that my present tense life is really that awful, because it's not, but now, it's not often unexpected. Or if it is, then it's usually not very magical. There is nothing particularly magical about unexpected expenses and things of that nature.
So maybe it's just as well that I can't recapture those feelings, because if I could, I'd probably soon be dying from starvation. But still...
There were just so many firsts that day. Whether it should have been obvious or not, realizing for the first time that they were going to continue pulling on my penis until I had an orgasm was something very special. I can't put it all into words, but I can at least catalogue the events.
So I never would have thought it would be that easy, but almost with no hesitation I reached over and I was feeling Ellis off, and he didn't mind at all.
“Oh yeah! Now... you're catching... on,” he said breathlessly. I'd never felt anyone else's pubic hair before. His was almost coarse, but damp and sweaty. I'd never had my fingers around another person's dick before. It felt... big. And very hard, but his glans was velvety soft and I made him gasp. And his balls were nice, still practically hairless, and...
And then Avery said it was his turn, because he'd thought of it first. I liked all of them, but he was the one I could have fallen in love with.
Although Jim the First was saying that he'd better be getting his turn before I had my quiver, so I guessed that I could fall in love with him as well. Because, after all, at that age we're usually not very monogamous.
And so learning that I was expected to return the favor to all of them was something that I could live with, especially since this was to be almost on a daily basis. So it was going to happen again.
And then again the next day. It was heaven on earth.
But we weren't like gay or anything. It was supposed to be nothing more than just getting ourselves off, it was only a phase, so we could never go any further than we did that first day and we couldn't possibly ever be in love. That's almost how Ellis explained it once and because I didn't want to risk losing the best friends I'd ever had, I went along with it.
And at first I could have settled for that. It was beyond anything I'd ever imagined, so it certainly was far beyond anything I'd ever experienced, but still, after awhile it became a little less magical.
Only there was still magic in being able to believe that we were best friends, and because I didn't want to risk losing that, I pretended. I kept hoping for more, but I would keep pretending until there was no reason for it, and if it had all been left up to me, I'm not sure if that day ever would've come with anyone, because there's always a reason to play it safe. It was going to take almost a perfect storm in my case, and usually that's too much to ever hope for.
Usually, but not always.
It never happened with Ellis or Jim or Avery though. It couldn't have happened with Ellis because he met a girl about his age in early August. It couldn't have happened with Jim because he started junior high football practice in mid-August. That meant two-a-days, and somehow, it also meant that he no longer had any time for our healing services.
I really don't know if it could have ever happened with Avery or not, but I have a feeling that it could've.
From the terms he often used, (such as laying on of hands or a special anointing), I'd guess that he'd at least been exposed to religion, but if so, it didn't seem to have an adverse effect on him. He always seemed to be the most open to suggestion and never once had he been moved to say that maybe we were getting a little carried away when it came to feeling each other up. For example, prolonged ass-touching was off-limits. Ellis said it was just too gay, that it was almost like we were making out, and you could only do that with a girl. When it was the four of us, Ellis always made the rules, and we never questioned them. And if Ellis wasn't around, Jim still never questioned them, but sometimes Avery did and that's how he and I once ended up in his room practicing making out. It was fairly intense. No kissing, but we could give each other hickies, and that was close. And really, what was the big deal about ass-rubbing? As it turned out, it was a very big deal, but we never went beyond just barely touching each other's little puckered mounds. We didn't because I think I was supposed to take the initiative. It didn't matter that I didn't have as much experience, and it didn't matter that I'd still shown no signs of puberty, I was two years older, so when it came to taking things off to another level, I was supposed to take the initiative. Only I couldn't. It was too much to risk. In spite of all the hints, I could never quite get my courage up, and later on, when it was too late, I could always come up with a reason to believe that I'd really done the right thing.
There's not much to say about my sophomore year in high school beyond that it was at last over, because basically I felt like I was in limbo the whole time. I didn't belong there, I didn't want to be a part of it, so I did what was required, but beyond that I just tried to be invisible. And if nothing else, it's easier to be invisible in high school than in junior high.
Although I finally started puberty that year. Two weeks before my sixteenth birthday, I'd just stepped out of the shower and was drying myself off, when I glanced down and... “Son of a bitch! Hair! There is no doubt about it, that is hair!”
And indeed it was, (two of them) and by that summer everything of importance was almost fully developed.
But aside from that development (which was neither negative or positive, only messier), I hadn't changed much. I was all the way up to 5' 4'' and weighed 108.
Under the heading of a step in the right direction, though, I'd given up on my boy meets girl and they fuck fantasies and had started writing some gay fantasies. They were always written in the first person, and of course they were for my own amusement. But in those fantasies I was almost always forced into doing something gay. It still couldn't be my decision.
It wasn't because I didn't want to be gay - I'd accepted that much - it was just that I couldn't believe that I'd ever meet anyone else who was gay until I was an adult, and that still seemed to be a very long way off.
Although I guess I should qualify that last statement. I knew that there were kids my age who were gay, and in fact there were at least two at my school, but the problem with them was that they acted like queens and I didn't want to be like them. The boy of my dreams was someone who almost always acted like he was a boy. Only he would have to keep his true feelings hid, just like me, so...
So it was going to be very difficult.
Came summer, I had a part-time job delivering pizzas, and to that end my father let me use his second car. It wasn't much to look at, but as long as I only drove it around town, there would be no problems.
Then I had a project I was working on. Basically, it was nothing more than a pipe dream, but since the state I lived in was basketball mad, I decided that I would write the definitive history of college basketball in that state, and then once sales took off, I could drop out of school and be on my own that much sooner. I was thinking in terms of no later than the coming fall. I'd get my G.E.D. (high school equivalency) diploma, then after a year or so I'd enroll at a community college, but I'd be through with high school and, more importantly, I'd out on my own.
And so I once again started spending most of my free time at the ESU library, only now I was poring over microfilm copies of old newspapers. But I hadn't yet decided what was important and what wasn't, so until I figured that part out I was busily filling my notebook full of both the important and the unimportant. So it was taking me a lot longer than I originally thought it would and, not only that, I'd often find myself distracted by other newsworthy events such as World Wars I and II, or the hunt for John Dillinger, or exactly how long it took the newspapers to realize that we were in a depression after the stock market crash in 1929, or how Mandrake the Magician was going to get out of his latest jam...
But in spite of all that I felt like I was making some progress, although I was starting to worry some about how I was supposed to turn all my statistics into something the average person would want to read about.
In fact, I was getting lost in statistics, and after a week and a half I was close to giving up on it. But I hadn't quite yet, so I kept making my daily trek to the library. So one afternoon I decided that while I was there I might as well take another look at “The Adolescent Period: A Pictorial Atlas.” It had quite a few pictures. Well, panels of pictures. Such as: “Physical growth and sexual maturation of an early-maturing boy.” Or “Physical growth and sexual maturation of a late-maturing boy.” (Apparently, he'd been almost as bad off as I'd been.) “Contrasts between and early and late-developing boy, ages 11.5 to 16.6.” (At 15.5, the late-developer wasn't very big at all.)
And so on. It was an interesting book, and I definitely felt empathy for all those late-developers of long ago (and they were also naked) but when I turned the corner into the section this pictorial atlas was located in, I almost stumbled over another boy, and from all appearances he was deeply engrossed in that same book. And he wasn't in the female adolescent section either - he was in the section I was most interested in.
That's how I first met Neal Walker. At first it was awkward. Of course it was, because he no more wanted to be caught looking at pictures of naked boys than I did. So already we had something in common, and we both desperately wanted to keep this hid from the other.
So we were both startled. Neal jumped (almost literally, even though he was sitting cross-legged in the floor), then he quickly closed the book, only then he wasn't sure what to do with it. And as for me, I blushed and mumbled, “Sorry. I didn't know you were here,” and beat a hasty retreat. I never once thought of saying anything like: “Oh. You like looking at pictures of naked boys too, I see.” I'm not like that.
Only he was still wondering if I thought the worst of him.
I was only wondering if I'd finally found a kindred spirit, but I had no idea how to proceed.
So a minute or so later he came wandering back out of the stacks and noticed that I was at a table looking through another book that could raise no questions. For all I know, it might have been in Greek, but I was only trying to look busy, while hoping to get another look at that boy.
He glanced over at me guardedly.
I tried to look nonchalant and shrugged. Then I tried a wry grin.
Then I was sure I'd scared him off for good, because I was thinking he'd probably interpreted my wry grin as a knowing one.
Well, he did look uncertain, but he continued on to the doorway and then downstairs. He seemed to be deep in thought. And, as it turned out, he was. He was still trying to figure out if I thought the very worst about him.
Me, I was feeling frustrated. But he really looked cute! Thirteen or fourteen, I surmised, about my size, didn't act swishy, but... I had no idea. None whatsoever.
And it also occurred to me that I'd probably never see him again. So of course, that almost ruined my day. But finally, after a few minutes (because in case I ran into him again, I didn't want him to think that I was following him) I got up and sadly made my way downstairs and out the front door.
Only he was sitting on the front steps, still looking uncertain.
“How's it going?” I managed. It almost came out without a hitch.
“Okay, I suppose,” he answered. Then he added, “You go to school here?” (Me? I look like I'm still in junior high, and you want to know if I go to school here?)
But after a short pause: “Well, no, I'm just doing some research,” I said importantly.
“Oh. ... Research? That's interesting. If it's any of my business, on what subject?”
“Um... well, actually, I'd like to write a book on the history of basketball in this state. So it's not really important, but... well, it might work, and it might not. I'm about to give up on it, to tell you the truth.”
“Maybe you shouldn't. Because I do know there's a lot of interest in basketball around here. Sometimes it seems it's all they talk about.” I wasn't sure if he sounded relieved or not.
Only I still had no idea where to go from where we were right then. Small talk can sometimes lead to something else entirely, though. Or at least I'd heard that it could, but obviously I'd never visited that someplace else. And I didn't know if he really was at that other place. And even if he was, I had no idea how to ask about it, because putting myself in his place...
Well obviously, that's a good way to never find out anything.
But at least we were walking together. Still talking about nothing much in particular, but when I reached my car I had a flash of inspiration and I asked, “So can I give you a lift anywhere?”
So even though he was surprised I was old enough to drive, he said, sure, if it was no trouble, I could give him a lift home. Then once in the car, he finally said, “In case you were wondering – and I guess you might have been - I'm thinking about possibly being a pediatrician when I... well, obviously, it'll be awhile yet, but I was just trying to look up some information.”
“Oh. ... Well, I guess you were at the right place, then.”
“Yeah, I guess. ... You startled me.” (And he was also blushing a little, I noticed.)
But of course, I pretended not to notice.
So obviously we didn't end up in bed that first day, but six weeks later that's exactly where we were. Finally.
At first, though, we were just getting to know each other and pheromones designed to attract other boys were still illegal.
Then another problem was that I'd always tended to be withdrawn, and that makes it difficult to make friends. It's a vicious circle, but that should explain why at first I was surprised when it seemed that he liked being with me. So I was surprised almost to the point of being stunned when that first day he was wondering if I needed any help on my project. If we worked on it together, we could cover twice as much ground, and he really didn't have much else to do, so...
And so going home that day I was elated. But this time, please, do not fuck it up. (Internal dialogue.)
He was fourteen, and I thought that was perfect.
Or at least I did up until a few days later when he mentioned he was hoping to start college soon. Hopefully, that coming fall. Although he thought he'd probably be a little more comfortable if he were to enroll in a small private school, because socially, he wasn't ready for college life and at a school like ESU, it could be a bit overwhelming.
So that was intimidating, and I must have looked it, because after a few moments he explained that he was just wired a little differently. He couldn't explain why or how, but some things came to him very fast. Only that made him different. Most of the time he was happy with that, but not always. Sometimes all he wanted was to be normal. Or at least, fairly normal. Reasonably so, but not boringly so. Only that didn't always come to him so very fast. But he had the same needs and desires most other kids his age had. He didn't mention what those needs were right then, but when he added that he liked talking to me, then as far as I was concerned that clinched it. It did, because I also noticed he was fidgeting a little.
Only I then placed him on a pedestal. Maybe he really did want to be a pediatrician, maybe that was the only reason he was looking at that book, because in a few more years, he'd be working on a cure for cancer or something. So...
So I think I'll try to summarize things up until the night that was beyond anything I'd ever imagined. In more ways than one, it was, but first: the six weeks I was an idiot.
It finally came to me the night Neal and his parents got back from vacation. They'd been gone for two weeks. (So giving myself just a little slack, I was only an idiot around him for about a month, not for six entire weeks.)
But it all came to me after I made a call to the local 24-hour Crisis Hot Line. This was while my father was working, because otherwise I wouldn't have called. My father's homophobic, so naturally I wouldn't have wanted him to overhear: “Um, hello. ... So this is anonymous, right? You're not trying to trace my call or anything? Well, okay then. So is it all right if I'm sixteen and gay?”
If you're going to out yourself, doing it that way first can be very helpful. And the guy had no problems with my being gay. In fact, it's possible that he was as well, because he said he could empathize with me, that he'd gone through almost the same thing. (But of course, Neal remained even more anonymous: I didn't mention his age, even, he was only a friend.)
All that call really accomplished was to accentuate the positive, though. Obviously Neal and I were good friends. There was that, and several variations of that, but he couldn't say if I should or shouldn't come out to him right away.
But at least it calmed me down some. I was more than capable of working myself into a state, and I'd done it again. I never was expecting any helpful hints on how to get my best friend in bed with me, but it did calm me down quite a bit, so I thanked the guy for listening and decided it was time for a long walk so I could talk things over with myself.
So one: the fact that he'd accepted a ride from me after being caught looking at that Pictorial Atlas, along with the fact that we'd pretty much become friends that day, should indicate...
Well, I still wasn't sure. Except that, apparently, he'd looked up all the information on pediatrics he needed.
At first, though, he reacted the same way I would've had our positions been reversed. Then he walked out, and there I was, but I wasn't studiously ignoring him, nor was I staring daggers, I was trying to act friendly. So he would have to wonder. Then only a minute or so after he walked outside, so did I, still trying to be friendly, but at the very least, I was awkward. Curious. So it just might have occurred to him that while I might have made a wrong turn on my way to the Applied Physics section, I also might not have. Aha!
Although he probably still wasn't sure. Leonardo Da Vinci couldn't have been sure at that point. (Sherlock Holmes might have been, though.)
Then came the remark about his needs and desires. My experience with fourteen-year-olds was limited, but I don't think they're usually prone to putting it quite that way. But if it is brought up, it's probably because he's interested in doing something about his desires. And I don't think it's a long-range goal, it's a fairly immediate one. So if there's only the two of you, then... Shit! (More internal dialogue.)
Then, about a week later, he wanted to know if I had a girl friend. Since by then we were spending most of our free time together – sometimes he even went with me on my pizza runs - it should have been obvious that I didn't, but I answered, “Well, not at the moment.”
And that was a nice, evasive answer. I might've had one recently and I might still be looking for one. Not very hard, but you can't ever tell.
Although I did notice that he looked a little disappointed, so I quickly added, “I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm small for my age, and... well, it seems like girls go for hunks, not for anyone like me. So I've never even been out on a date, all right? It's not that I dislike them, but I never know what to say, so...” and then I shrugged.
Only Neal grinned and said, “Well, that's cool, because I don't understand them either.” So what was I waiting for, a written invitation?
No, not really, but by then I was wanting to know if he could ever be in love with me. Only I couldn't ask him, because maybe he couldn't be. There were things that I was good at, but it often seemed that self-sabotage was at the very top of the list.
But then the day before he left on vacation we were shooting hoops in his driveway. We weren't at it for long, though, because it was in the middle of the summer. So we went inside to get something to drink. (His parents both worked, so we had the place to ourselves.) So once inside, he nonchalantly shucked off his cargo shorts and there he was in just his boxers. That was as close to naked as I'd ever seen him and, almost immediately, I felt a stirring of appreciation. Although I still didn't want to let on, so I guess I must have looked... puzzled. I'm fairly sure that was it, and it probably came from that fact that while I didn't want to let on, I was interested. So... Quandary, puzzle... Yeah, I looked puzzled.
He shrugged. “No big deal, we've got the house to ourselves, so if we wanted to, I guess we could go naked.” (So at that point, I probably looked stunned.) “But anyway,” he continued, “if you got a few more minutes, I'll get you to drop me off at my mom's office. I need to hit her up for some extra cash. First, though, I'm going to take a shower. Be right back.” Pause.
And then it happened. “Guess I might as well throw these in the washer while I'm down here.” Then he stepped out of his boxers, padded back to their laundry room – naked – then nonchalantly walked back through the kitchen and on up the stairs. “Won't be long,” he said over his shoulder.
He was gorgeous. He was the most gorgeous boy I'd ever seen in my life. It wasn't a teeny-bopper heartthrob cuteness, but to me, he was beautiful.
And he'd also just walked in front of me naked. Totally unconcerned, as though it was every bit as natural as I wished it could be for me. And he did look nice. No body hair except for a small brown patch of hair at the base of his penis. His penis looked to be about the average size for fourteen so, soft, it was fairly small, only like me he was uncircumcised.
So at least that was one thing I didn't need to worry about. I didn't know when I'd be getting undressed in front of him – there was still a question of nerves in that respect – but now I was really in love.
And I was also in lust.
But at any rate, I pulled my tee shirt back on. It came down halfway to my knees, so hanging loose, my fairly obvious erection was out of sight. I still had to drop him off at his mom's office, after all.
So I did and even though I was late getting to my job, I decided a few more minutes could probably be forgiven. If nothing else, I'd work over a little. So I pulled into a McDonald's, hurried back to the men's room, locked the door and it didn't take long. If not for a potential mess, I could have easily done while I was driving, only I drove like most sixteen-year-olds, so there was no point in my tempting fate.
But I had the feeling that I'd soon be tempting the living hell out of it.
My father was 6 foot even and weighed between 250 and 260. (So obviously I take after my mother. Only problem was, apparently she'd had enough when I was three. I have no idea where she went, so other than some vague memories I have no recollection of her.)
So I guess she's a moot point and, as soon as possible, my father will be as well. But there were times when he wasn't an ass hole. For example: he let me use his second car for my job, and I could also drive it to school and to the library. He was a big sports fan, he'd worked hard most of his life and he only drank on Saturday nights, Sundays and then from Saturday night up until Thursday or Friday every third week. He worked twelve hour swing shifts, so he'd work days one week, (six days), nights the next, then he'd be off for a week.
But I think I would have come out to Neal even if my father hadn't entered the picture. I was afraid for longer than I should've been, and I also admit that I finally made my mind up after he'd stripped off in front of me. So in a way, my decision was fueled by lust. 'Hormones' sounds a little better, though.
And they were definitely running amok that day, because I jerked off again about an hour later. I didn't have a delivery to make right then, so what the hell. It was almost as good as the first one. And the first was spectacular.
So I think that, no matter what, I would have eventually come out, but once my father entered the picture there was no doubt in my mind.
It started Wednesday evening, two nights before I made my call to the crisis center and Neal was back from vacation. (Late that night.) It started during the evening news. About a month earlier there'd been another gay bashing in our community. Fortunately the two gays only ended up in the emergency room, but they'd pressed charges against the perpetrators and now it was going to trial. So, as is often the case, there were picketers outside the courthouse with their signs and their hate and our local news was interviewing one of the protesters. So I could feel it boiling up, but since my father was in the next room, I kept it inside. Or at least almost, because I just had to make a gesture at the protester on TV with my middle finger and as it turned out, I did that just as my father was walking out of the kitchen behind me, and the next thing I knew I was picking myself up off the floor. He'd only slapped my face, but there was a lot of force behind that blow. Physically, that was it: he didn't hit me again, but having to sit there and listen to him was worse. It was, even though I kept thinking that it was about to get a lot worse physically as well.
It was a bad scene. But I'm not a masochist and I'm in no way suicidal, so when he asked if I was siding with the fucking faggots who got just what they deserved, I said of course not, but I felt like shit inside.
Only it wasn't over, because now he suspected that I might have some tendencies. So among over things, I had to endure some more questions about why I didn't seem to have any interest in girls my age, and then Friday afternoon, not long before he left for work, came the worst. He didn't know much about Neal, but he did know that I was spending a lot of time with him, so that was going to stop. He didn't know what was going on between us (and he'd better not ever find out) but I was not to see him again. If he ever found out otherwise, well, I might think I was too old for the strap, but I'd soon discover that wasn't the case after all.
So poetic justice or not, one: I wished I hadn't been such a coward with Neal and two: I wasn't going to be any longer. So okay, there was also a third and a fourth fact, I was going to continue seeing him (even if I had to be very careful) and I was going to be out of the house as soon as possible. I'd been planning on it for awhile, but up until then I'd been realistic. If you're sixteen, you can drop out of school, but legally, there's not much else you can do. Kids do leave home at that age and younger, though. It might be because they're thrown out or abandoned, then other times they simply decide they've had enough, but no matter what, they'll probably end up on the street doing anything and everything that's necessary to survive. I didn't want it to be that way for me, but now I didn't see that I had a choice.
But I was going to see Neal no matter what and, Saturday morning, I did.
I had to see Neal then because I'd been worrying about something happening to them on the way back. You hear about traffic accidents all the time, so if it's somebody you care about, you worry.
I also had to see him because I'd also been thinking that it would probably serve me right if he'd finally gotten tired of dropping hints. We got along well, but still, maybe he could only drop so many hints that he'd like to do something else before telling me to just fuck off.
Hopefully, though, everything would be like it was before, and in that case, by Monday we'd not be seeing less of each other, it would be the two of us possibly for the rest of the week. It was my father's off week and he was going to be with some of his drinking buddies fishing. It had been planned for over a month and he wasn't going to let me interfere with it, he was still going. Although he did assure me that even though I might think I could get away with seeing Neal in his absence, he had ways of finding out what I'd been up to, so I might want to keep that in mind. Plus – and here's the good part – I wouldn't have any free time that week anyway. It seemed that I'd not been pulling my weight when it came to things that needed to be kept up around the house, so he had several projects lined up and, starting Saturday, when I wasn't at work, that's what I'd be busy with.
So I'd certainly be hard at it when he woke up early Saturday afternoon, but first I had to mention my plans to Neal. Just the part about us fishing for a day or so and having a place to stay at night. We could deal with anything else when it happened, but first I had to know if he still wanted to.
I really didn't care for fishing, but Neal did. But since no one is without at least a few faults, that's what we'd do, because it would be just us in my father's little shack on the lake, about ten miles north. It had been boarded up for five years, and he was still trying to sell it along with the lot it was on, but there'd been no takers and it didn't look like there ever would be. So it wasn't much, but it would be enough.
But beyond that, I had to see Neal because I had to. I don't know if this makes it sound more noble or not, but he was so important, I would have settled for just talking to him, that and nothing else.
And besides, my father was always wiped out when he got in from work, so he'd be dead to the world until at least noon. He had a hard job and he worked hard at it. So even though my stomach was in knots, I left a note saying that I had to return some books to the library because they were already overdue and off I went. It wouldn't be a pleasant experience if he ever found out where I'd been and I wouldn't have very much dignity left, but I still wouldn't have missed it for anything.
I wouldn't have, because Neal thought the idea of roughing it at the lake for a few days and nights sounded great, he could hardly wait.
But he had some news of his own. By the end of the summer, they'd be moving to Atlanta, GA. What I hadn't known was, they'd spent most of their vacation checking out the possibility of his being able to enroll early, and they'd found a school that was willing to accept him on a provisional basis. It seemed perfect and for at least the first year he'd still be with his parents, because they were moving down there as well.
So at first I was thinking that was bad news, but as I was driving back home it occurred to me that it wasn't so bad after all, because now I knew where I was going not long afterwards. With a metro population of around five and half million, there almost had to be some temporary shelters and agencies that could probably help me find some sort of a job. And I'd still be fairly close to Neal, so Atlanta it was going to be.
Although this was assuming that my coming out was going to work out the way I hoped. If it didn't, I could be in a world of hurt, because by that afternoon, I was already burning my bridges behind me.
Before leaving Neal's Saturday, I'd told him that I was sort of semi-grounded for the weekend, so while I'd try to see him Sunday, I wasn't sure if I could. I'd be calling him by that evening though, and come Monday morning, we'd be good to go.
When my father woke up at around one that afternoon, I was just finishing up with the lawn. That's something I did every week – mowing our lawn – so I guessed I could at least do it once more. Needless to say, though, once he was off on his fishing trip, he could shove the remainder of his job list up his ass because I wasn't going to be bothering with it any longer.
Three of his buddies showed up around 2:30, so after telling me once more to keep what he'd told me in mind, he was on his way.
To be on the safe side, I continued weeding up until around three, then I got cleaned up and headed off to work. Actually though, I was just picking up my check. What I told Ralph (the manager) was, my father had put his foot down, so now I had to work around the house and because of that, I had to quit, effective immediately. But my father would really appreciate it if he could go ahead and pay me everything that I had coming, and because Ralph didn't want to get on my father's wrong side, he did.
Then I went back home and loaded the car up with camping supplies. Not much really, just fishing equipment, two lanterns, two pillows, some sheets and blankets and some non-perishable food items, plus a broom, a crow bar and my father's tool kit, because it was going to take a lot of work getting our shack in shape. And I also grabbed a bunch of keys hanging over his work bench, because I was sure one of those went to the padlock on the door.
And thankfully, one did. So I swept and even mopped the floor, knocked down most of the cobwebs and pulled the boards off the three windows. Then I guessed I needed to get rid of one of the two small beds, so first I loaded the mattress into the car, drove about two miles and dumped it into the lake. Then I went back, pulled the rest of the bed outside and pushed it into the lake as well. So now we only had one small bed.
When it was almost dark, I decided to go back home. There were two reasons and one was that I wanted to be there to answer the phone in case my father called checking up on me. He'd never bothered before, but this time, he might. (Only he didn't.) But the second reason was just trying to figure out how much stuff I could take with me once I left for good. Probably this has been guessed by now, but I planned to be gone soon after Neal and I had caught all the fish we wanted to catch. Obviously I couldn't take the car because it wasn't mine and there was no point in being picked up for taking it without my father's permission. So I couldn't take much more than a back-pack stuffed with my clothes and various toilet articles along with a few of my favorite books. And I needed to find a good place to hide most of my money, because it had to last me awhile.
But I wasn't planning on leaving the area until Neal and his family left, so I spent Sunday morning looking for a good place not too far outside the city limits. (If things didn't work out, then I'd be leaving sooner. Probably by bus, and probably for somewhere in Florida.)
But of course I hoped it wouldn't come to that, so I finally found what appeared to be a good place and I built a decent lean-to. That's all, though. My back pack would stay in the trunk of the car until after our fishing trip.
Once back at the house, I called to let Neal know that we were set for the next morning. I said we could only stay one night, but he still seemed to be excited. So that made two of us, but I resisted the urge to jerk off because I was saving it for later.
My reason for saying only one night was simple: I didn't want him bringing a change of clothes. If it worked out the way I wanted, then he wouldn't be worried about extra clothes anyway.
My father didn't call checking up on me that night either, so apparently he thought I was suitably cowed and probably wouldn't be bothering. I was still a little nervous, though, because they were fishing on that same lake. But it was a big lake, 50 square miles with more than 500 miles of shoreline and since they were on the north end and we'd be close to the southernmost, it didn't seem as though I had anything to worry about, so I finally went to sleep.
I picked Neal up a little after seven. And then... we fished. We fished and we talked about everything under the sun, so I enjoyed it and I even caught a few myself. I knew how to fish even if I didn't usually enjoy it as much. Then, a little after noon, we decided to go to a nearby country store/bait shop to get something to eat. We could eat our peanut butter and jelly sandwiches washed down with Coke later on.
Then we fished some more. I was being as patient as I could be, but finally, about an hour before sundown, Neal asked me, “Why don't we go swimming for awhile?”
So with all the nonchalance I could manage, I shrugged and said, “Well, I didn't think to bring along my swimming trunks. Did you?”
“No, but we could go in our underwear. A boat hasn't gone by closer than a couple hundred yards, and even if anyone was to notice, they wouldn't be able to tell anything, so you want to?”
And so we did. But even though our boxers might have looked almost like regular swimming trunks, they had no lining inside, and that made a difference. As soon as we jumped in, in fact. And that was before Neal's started trying to slip down on him. And when he started climbing out of the water up onto the dock the fourth or fifth time, well...
Nice ass. Very white and it was all out in the open. It was a deeply moving experience. It was even better than skinny dipping. But Neal laughed, yanked them up, then cannonballed off the dock again. And practically lost them again. Oh-my-God.
My boxers weren't as much in style - in fact, I was almost embarrassed to be seen in them because they looked like something an old man might wear, but at least they stayed up. Only my fly kept coming open, because it had no buttons. It wouldn't have been a problem if I hadn't gone swimming in them, but I was, so I was about to jump back in off the dock when Neal yelled, “You're not cut either! Cool! ... Oh by the way, that's nice, Jim.”
That's when I was first aware of my problem. Only Neal didn't seem to be looking at it that way (and he was having ever more trouble keeping his up anyway) so I guessed it wasn't a problem. Although I did close my barn door with an “oops” just for appearance's sake. Not that it did any good, because like I said, I had no damn buttons. But I did feel a slight surge down there.
Or at least I thought it was slight, but then the next time I climbed out, my dick was out of the barn again, and this time it was sticking straight out. And I really didn't want to come out quite that soon, so for an instant or so I was somewhere between nonplussed and absolutely mortified, but...
“All right!” exclaimed Neal, “You got a turtle too!”
“I got a what?”
“A turtle. Your glans looks like a turtle poking its head out, just like mine does.” Giggle. “And I think I'm getting one too. Want to see it?”
I started feeling a little light-headed right about then, but I managed, “Well yeah.”
He was in shallow water facing me, so without any hesitation, he pulled his front down and it looked beautiful. Slim and jutting nearly straight up. So apparently his could go up even faster than mine. Although mine was elevating very quickly.
“Cool,” said Neal a bit breathlessly, “so um... you want to... well, you know. ... You want to? Jerk off? ... I haven't since last night, so you want to?” Not for the world would I have missed that.
Because I finally got my courage up. We were sitting side-by-side on the dock facing out towards the lake and we'd pulled our boxers off and tossed them behind us. So we were side-by-side stark naked and we'd just started jerking ourselves off, but no one was in sight and I couldn't hear a boat coming up in the distance, so I swallowed hard and said, “Hey, time out, okay? Just for a sec here, but... you want to do something that'll make it feel even better?”
Neal glanced up. (Prior to that, he'd been looking fixedly at my midsection), (and I'd been looking at his too)... but he grinned and asked, “Are you by any chance talking about us doing each other?”
“Well... yeah.” Then I laughed shakily, and added, “I mean, I've heard that it feels awesome. ... If anyone saw us, they'd probably think the worst already, so... want to try it?”
“Well, I've never had the opportunity of doing it that way either, Jim. But let's.”
And so we did and again, I would have settled for that and nothing else, but only if I had to. His felt squishier than mine. But then he said mine felt squishier than his, so I guess it's a matter of heightened awareness. We were trying to draw it out for as long as possible, so there was quite a bit of of fondling. His balls were soft and warm and he'd started growing a little hair on them. Just barely, but it was more than I'd managed and his bush was a bit coarser than mine. He was squirming but I couldn't stay still either, so I really couldn't last very long. If I'd jerked off the night before, I might have lasted a little longer, but... God!
Or maybe I wouldn't have, because even though he'd done it the night before, only a second or so after I lost it, he did too. It was a wonderful mess.
Then while we were still catching our breath Neal said, “Oh... shit. That was unreal. ... So we'll have to do it some more, huh? ... Right?”
“Well, hell yes!”
“Cool. Way cool. ... But maybe we should get ourselves washed up and then we probably should get dressed for awhile. You think?”
Then we fished some more, but the genie was now out of the bottle and so more often than not, we were still talking about sex. Neither of us had come out with everything, but it wasn't long until it occurred to me that Neal seemed to be getting awfully close, so now the question was who was going to come out first. I wasn't sure, but after this exchange, I had to think that my coming out probably wouldn't be too difficult.
He started, “So you're saying that if anyone had seen us, they would have thought the worst about us?”
“Knowing my father? ... Definitely.”
“Why? Is he like homophobic?”
“Yeah he is. ... But you know what? I really don't give a shit now.”
“But up until today you did? Give a shit?”
“... Well, I sure had to take what he thought into consideration. He's bigger than both of us put together.”
“Too bad he's not like my parents. They don't care one way or the other. It's my life.” Then he stood up and stretched.
That was awfully close. In fact... I looked over at him. Then I shrugged and gave him another wry grin. Although it might have still been in the diffident category, but whatever, it was dark by then, so finally I managed, “So... well, your parents sound pretty cool. But you think we've fished enough? `Cause I'm about ready to... well... Shit! You moron, why'd you do that for? You dumped all our fish out and you just soaked me and... well, fuck. We just did all that for... shit! You're going in right now!”
And with that, I wrapped my arms around his chest and just like that, we were back in the water. It was a gut reaction, and I think almost anyone else would have reacted the same way. If somebody without warning dumps a tub of cold water all over you – that, along with the fish – and if he's about to die laughing, then you're going to get him back one way or another. So now we were both soaked to the skin, and he'd also saved me from having to be sneaky about it.
Or at least not any more than I'd already been. I'd tossed the second bed. And so he wouldn't think of taking along any extra clothes, I'd mislead him into thinking that he'd probably not need to, because we'd only be staying one night. Lie! (But it was for a very good cause.) And when he'd suggested swimming, I'd almost suggested skinny dipping, because it was an interesting prospect, and not only that, if we got our boxers wet, we'd have to go without them until they dried out, so I was about to mention that when all at once, I thought, “Hmm. Let's just get them wet.”
But I was still trying to think of a good way of getting the rest of our clothes wet. I was going to be a dirty, rotten scoundrel with dishonorable intentions. Depending of course, on what's defined as dishonorable, but now, I didn't need to bother.
So after we'd tried to drown each other for a few minutes, and after he'd explained that he was really a catch-and-release person, (and after I'd mentioned that some of those fish were probably a little beyond resuscitation), very innocently he said, “So it looks like now we'll have to sleep naked. ... Think we can manage it?”
He had come out! Or at least, he might as well had, so I guessed I “might as well had” too. “I'm not sure about the sleeping part, but I guess we can try.”
“That sounds interesting,” Neal chattered. We were pulling our clothes off on the front porch by then. One thing about getting your clothes soaking wet is that they can quickly feel very clammy.
“Want me to rub you dry real quick?” I was straight out again.
And he was back on full-red-alert. “Yeah,” he chattered, “You do me, and I'll do you. But let's leave our clothes out here to dry and get our butts inside, okay?”
It made sense and I even latched the door from inside, just to be on the safe side. We both needed to feel as safe and secure as possible. Once dry, we climbed into bed. And as previously mentioned, it was a small bed. Nothing more than an army cot, but then Neal almost whispered, “So you think we could pretend a little longer? I think this feels nice, so let's... well, be together and talk some more.”
“Talk about what?” Because actually, by then I was at a loss for words.
“Oh, I don't know. Anything, really... or I'll tell you about where I'm going to school... you want to hear about that? ... Let me get comfortable here...” and with that, he more or less burrowed his... well, he was on the right-hand side of the bed nearest the window, I remember that distinctly, so it would have been his right thigh that was soon burrowed between my thighs. Then he giggled again and asked, “Feel all right?”
So we were definitely going to do it. There was no doubt about it, but first, we'd just cuddle and talk. Then after we did it – I was still planning on going first, but if he beat me to it, well, then I'd go second – but once finished, we'd cuddle and talk some more. All night long! I couldn't think of anything better. I was in heaven.
And then a few seconds later, I wasn't, I was out the window, right behind Neal.
We went out the window because we heard a car approaching. Then we heard car doors slamming and then I heard my old man yelling. So it was loud and then what he was saying – right on the other side of the door was, “You little faggot, I warned you! I will beat the living shit out of both of you! You come out of there, you hear me? If I have to break this door down, I will! So just get your asses out here right now!”
But Neal's smart and I'm not dumb, so with an “Oh shit!” out the window we went, and we didn't look back until we were at least a hundred yards away. That was about the time we heard the door splintering. KA-RASH!! (Sound effects.)
Fortunately, we were about a hundred yards away and it was dark outside. There was that, and the fact that we'd zig-zagged quite a bit. There was no rhyme or reason to our zig-zagging, but we were by then in some tall weeds, so it was time to take stock of things.
The good news was that apparently my father and whoever was with him had decided to wait us out in the comfort of the shack. I could no longer hear anything distinctly, but I could still hear him yelling, and apparently they thought we'd soon be trying to sneak back inside. So not only was he an ass-hole, he was a dumb ass-hole because there was no way in hell we were going to try anything like that.
So the good news far outweighed the bad, and that was even though the bad seemed to be horrible. And it sure was at first.
One: We were naked. That, and barefooted, and the barefooted part was an absolute bitch.
Two: Our clothes were out of reach, and that included all my stuff locked in the trunk. My clothes, my books and my money. Everything.
Three: We were at least ten miles from home. And we were naked! Both of us, and it was all my fault. Well, of course I felt bad about it, I almost felt like crying because I should have never taken that chance. I have no idea how my father found out, but it seems likely that either he or some of his friends must have been in one of those boats going by and if nothing else, they noticed us fishing out there.
Although now I really hope they saw us jerking each other off, but since no boats went by at that time, that probably wasn't it. But still, I'd taken a chance and I'd gotten him involved with me.
So first, Neal had to assure me that it was as much his fault as mine, because he was the one who started the chain of events that led to us being in bed naked, and he did it on purpose.
So I had to tell him that if his plan hadn't worked, mine might have, because I had the same idea.
And by the way, by then, we were walking up a dirt bike trail that led back to the highway. We were walking very gingerly, but it seemed to be our best option. We still hadn't figured out exactly what we were going to do once we reached the highway, but having already foreshadowed some of the story by saying that now I hope that whoever saw us jerking each other off, I might as well say that we finally managed to get to his place, which was only six or seven miles away after we cut across the golf course. To the best of our knowledge, no one ever saw us. There wasn't very much traffic on Highway 36 at night, but there was some. So every time we heard a car approaching, we'd quickly duck into the woods or down into a ditch. Our feet were sore for almost a week afterwards, but we eventually made it to their garage, and there we stayed until daylight.
But once we were on that trail, the first thing Neal hissed was, “Well damn, if it was going to be this much trouble, I wish we'd at least done something to make it worth it!”
That's when mine started elevating again. Obviously it was neither the time or place, but if we ever got out of the mess we were in, it sounded hopeful.
It sounded immensely hopeful, so that's why we not only walked back naked, more often than not we were anywhere from semi-hard to fully erect, and that's not the best way to attempt hitching a ride. If we'd been inclined to do so, that is, and we weren't ever.
But we sure weren't hard at first. I guess we were when we went out the window, but we didn't stay that way for long. My father banging on the door did wonders for my Libido, I kid you not.
But at any rate, while not necessarily in the strictest chronological order, here are the highlights of our long talk on the way back to his place. Because after all, we did need to keep each other's spirits up.
First, I was distraught because of everything I had being locked in the trunk of my father's second car which obviously wasn't going to be used by me any more. Even if I'd had the nerve, I didn't have the keys to the trunk, so I was really and truly fucked.
So what did I have in the trunk, Neal wondered.
“All my money, so I can't get a bus ticket, I can't eat, I can't... oh fuck! ... My clothes, books, you name it, I am fucked!”
“Books? Like what?”
So he was trying to cheer me up. “Oh... a little bit of everything I guess. Stephen King, sci-fi, some history, um... got `Portnoy's Complaint' and some big comic books and Charles Dickens and Dostoyevsky... I mean, I read all kinds of shit, really.”
“Comic books. Like what?”
“`Non Sequitur'. That's my favorite. And `Pearls Before Swine', `Dilbert', stuff like that.”
“I like those too. Dostoyevsky. You got `The Brothers Karamazov'?”
“Had. Past tense. But it's a mind-bender.”
“Present tense. I have it too.”
I looked over at him with a big question mark on my face. It probably was like a neon sign. A big question mark.
“You don't think I'm going to leave you in my back yard naked, do you?”
“Well... I guess we're about the same size, so yeah, I could use some clothes.”
“But then what? You can't go home, right?”
“No, I can't. I'd already made my mind up about that much, and it's definitely made up now. ... Besides, I don't even know if he'd let me come home. Even if I wanted to.”
“So hear me out, all right? I'm just thinking out loud, but you can't stay here. So how's Atlanta sound?”
So we finally got all that sorted out once we were in their garage. Safe at last, but by then we had an urgent need. Several times on the way back we were tempted. We were sorely tempted, and once came close to doing it in a ditch, but we knew we'd still be wanting to keep a sharp eye out, and it's hard to do that if you're in the process of sucking someone else's dick. And besides, just knowing what could be behind us and that we really should be keeping an eye out would have detracted from our overall enjoyment of the event. Probably we'd just watched too many horror movies, that's what I think, but we finally made it to his place at around four in the morning.
But it still was an interesting walk back, because we finally managed to talk ourselves off. No, really, we did. Neal was intent on giving me all the anatomical names – just to pass the time, he was doing this – so let's see, there was the epididymis, (behind our balls or testicles), corpus cavernosum penis, (causes erections), frenulum (one of our more sensitive places), and our very important urethral opening. And that's what did it.
“I think I like pee hole better,” I said.
“Well, urethra then. Forget the opening part.”
“That's the part I like best. Your slit. Your little pink slit – because it's pink inside, you know – and I'm going to pull your little pink slit open and I'm going to run my tongue all over it and just as far down inside as I can and I'm... what? Did you just... son of a bitch! You did!”
And he had at that. So finally I asked him, “Well, can I at least taste it then?” and believe it or not, that's what did it for me. So we at least got a taste. We both did, and it lifted our spirits greatly.
And it also made things last longer than they would've otherwise once we were finally inside their garage. It was the first time for both of us, so deep-throating was beyond our reach, but simply working on the glans penis worked wonders. That soft, spongy, increasingly slippery ever so pungent bulb. And then of course, there was that very important urethral opening and the marvelous frenulum. And we could do lots with our foreskins too, almost getting our tongues down inside a little. Ohhh! (Almost too loud exclamatory reaction.)
Because after all, open-minded or not, there was a right way and a wrong way of first being introduced to Neal's parents.
But finally the lights came on inside the kitchen, so, his loins girded with an empty potato sack, Neal scampered across their driveway and his parents were... surprised. Very much so. But soon afterwards I was fully dressed and then...
And then I met his parents. They were nice. Although at first they were a bit dubious, as you might well expect. But there was no place else for me to go, I was sixteen so I could just go ahead and get my G.E.D., and Neal and I really did seem to get along very well. So we could lift each other's spirits up.
And we often did.
I would not have missed it for the world.
As always, any and all feedback will be greatly appreciated. Thanks for reading my story and I hope it was worth your time.
Copyright 2010: all rights reserved. Please do not reprint, repost or otherwise reproduce this or any part thereof anywhere without my written permission.