I must preface this story by saying that it is pure fantasy. As you might know, I don't always write fantasy. Sometimes I write fact disguised as fantasy. It's up to you to tell the difference. I avoid the usual disclaimers because, I figure, why are you here in the first place? Wouldn't you like to be surprised for a change?


What Me and Mozart Have in Common:
by Larkin, .... jet2larkin (at) gmail (.) com
July 2012, copyright


Part 7: Prometheus Jr.


I felt like Prometheus from Greek mythology. He was the guy that stole fire from the gods and then he gave it to man. When the Gods found out, they were so pissed that they chained him naked on a rock and every day a great eagle would swoop down and tear open his belly and eat his liver.. In the night, his liver would grow back and the next day the bird would tear it out again,..forever and ever.

I pushed back my covers and lay naked on my bed. I imagined a big bird flying down and ripping open my belly and why, just because I wanted to give Treg the fire. The vivid early morning daydream gave me the best boner and I eagerly tended to it.

Treg occupied almost 100% of my thoughts. He had brown slightly curly hair and eyes to match. He was the tallest kid in the class and because of my age I was certainly the shortest. I was blond with very blue eyes so you might say we were total opposites. This made us an unlikely pair, but I am getting ahead of myself because Treg is clueless. He had just came over to help me with geometry and I couldn't seem to keep my hands off of him. I knew I had to play low key and act as if nothing happened.

When David or Tommy pestered me I would just give them the rat face and run off. Tommy knew enough to leave me alone but David came up and prodded me.

"Hey, what's the matter with you? I wanted to know if you wanted to come over later?"

I frowned and said in my annoyingly, high voice, "Fuck you!"

I left David standing there, puzzled.

In class Treg was being his usual studious self which is the only tedious thing about him. I acted blasť and maybe a little bored. At the break I asked him to check my work as if that was the sum total of our relationship. He scanned the paper and then nodded. He seemed impersonal and almost, distant.

I assembled my lunch tray and found a chair at his table. I gave him a big smile but only got his serious expression in return.

"You know, your tutoring really helped me. You saw how I got all the problems right. You think you could come over again before Wednesday?"

Why did he look so glum?

He shook his head and said, "I don't think so."

I said, "You could come over after school today?"

Treg put his mini-pizza down and after a pause said, "I don't think I can come next Wednesday either."

I sat stunned as if my whole world had just imploded. Treg knew immediately that he had upset me but he didn't really know how or why. I let out a faint but high pitched cry and buried my face in my hands. When I looked back up at him my face with covered with tears.

Keep in mind that this was a middle school lunch room and it can be a snake pit so I knew that this drama had to carried out discretely. Treg got up and took the chair next to me and tried to comfort me. I looked at him and tried to give him the impression that a meltdown was imminent.

I sniffed and said, "I thought you liked me?"

"Carter, I do like you, I, ah, um,"

I roughly wiped my tears away with the back of my arm. "You hate me, I know you do!"

Then I rested my head in my folded arms and sobbed. "Carter, I don't hate you, honest."

I think he was more concerned about this situation flying out of control than he was about anything else.

Still crying, I said, "Then why won't you come over to see me."

In an effort to calm me he said, "Ok, I can't come over today but I can tomorrow."

This was the perfect opportunity for me to hug him but, as I said, we were in a middle school lunch room.




I said, "Is Treg there?"

I'm guessing that it was his Mother because she was so formal. "Who shall I say is calling?"

"Carter Littlewood."

There was a long pause until Treg finally answered. "Carter, what's up?"

Treg was starting to sound almost human..

"My Mother thought you were a girl."

I was unfazed. "That happens a lot. You should have told her I was."

"Carter, are you alright, I sorry about today at lunch."

"Oh, it's ok, since I am the youngest one in school they expect me to cry sometimes. Maybe they are surprised I don't do it more often. Why didn't you want to come over? I thought I was nice and my Mother gave you $10."

He beat around and around and around the bush until I finally got him to say what was bothering him.

"Well Carter, you were like on top of me and I was so nervous that your Mother would walk in and get the wrong idea."

I listened and then said, "So? I can tell when my Mother is starting up the stairs and anyway, ...It wouldn't have been the wrong idea."

There was a long pause for both of us. My guess was that this established two things. Treg began to realize the possibilities but he was unsure of what it meant or where it could lead. Talking on the phone was made it safe and easy and Treg relaxed and was able talk about it.

I decided to be bold. "I do it,"

"Treg said, "Do what?"

"You know."

Treg was getting friendlier. "Are you talking about what I think you are talking about?"


In an effort to learn more about me he said, "Damn, how long have you been doing it?"

"Since I was maybe 4, I don't remember."

To better establish what we were talking about, he said, "Wait a minute, are we talking about the same thing?"

"I think so. I did it this morning before I got dressed for school."

There was a long silence until I heard, "Ahh, um." on the other end.

I said, "I'm doing it now."

Another long silence.

I said, "Treg?"

I thought I could hear something.

I said, "Treg, are you doing it?"


It went on for over an hour and the results were amazing. This simple, geographically dethatched act had suddenly bonded us as if we were the closest of friends. He told me he had to get to sleep and we hung up. Before he did, he promised to come over tomorrow.


I had just settled into bed when I heard something. Then I heard it again. It was pebbles against the window.

I went over and opened it and looked down. "What!"

It was Tommy. I said, "What do you want?"

He said characteristically, "You know."

I said, "Why'd you come over so late?"

"I snuck out. Come down."


He said, "Pleese! Come on, Carter, don't make me jerk off out here."

I am such a push over!

Wearing only my underpants I met him by the side garage door. Neither one of us said anything and he was up against me as we moved into the dark garage. Tommy was breathing hard and I felt how stiff he was through his pants. I got down and prepared to suck his cock.

His voice was more like a harsh whisper. "I don't want to do that, I want to do the other thing?"

I said, "What other thing?"

He turned me around and pressed his whole body against my back. "I want to fuck you."

Tommy had gotten completely undressed. We used a lawn chair matt for me to lay on and he was on top of me. He brought some goop with him and used it on me to make it trouble free. He must have been thinking about doing it to me on the long walk all the way over here. I had just had a long JO with Treg on the phone I was easy and relaxed and pleased with the idea of letting Tommy do everything. His body was warm and he was smelly with sweat and it erected me even before he started. Tommy was a shadow creature, a demon. I liked meeting him in secret.

He turned me over so that I was facing him and with my legs pushed all the way back, he could go way up into me. He pinned me as if I might try to escape and I,... clung to him as if I'd never let go.

Tommy came inside of me once and then again. I had been flooded inside.

Later, in bed, I thought about both Treg and Tommy. I wondered if I could be with both without the other knowing.

Is that such a bad thing?




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