Feedback on this story (or the previous works) is always welcome. For those that know Jakob from Hi, I'm Lance, readers are aware he must embark on a few years of survival. This chapter is a new beginning.

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18

 

"Did you feel like Anson's family was a replacement for your family?" Trevor asked me.

"No. As much as they welcomed me, I still knew I was not part of the family. The Petriellos were wonderful. I don't think it crossed my mind that I didn't have a real family. Not then. I just tried to focus on what to do next. I knew my family was still ... there. I just wasn't a part of it right then."

"Did that feeling change?"

"Yes. I thought they would want me back. I believe their thinking was that I would hate the `sinful' life and want to come home. But ... you can't just stop being gay, so I knew I couldn't go back. It was a wall. It was a philosophical stalemate. Eventually, the Petriellos became family. At the beginning, I only felt family meant being blood relatives. But I had a new family with Anson's home. I now have my husband, Lance. He's my real family now."

"But ... wasn't the arrangement short lived?"

"Yeah. You'd think getting kicked out at 17 would be your worst year. I think 18 was worse. My 18th birthday was so good. Then with each month, it went downhill."

 

"Happy birthday, Jakob!" Anson's family said. They sang.

I blew out candles.

"We have something," said Anson's father.

I ripped paper off a small box. I couldn't imagine what it would be. It was a pretty small box. I opened the lid. It was a keychain. On it was a bear and the name of the resort where we had shared the cabin. I'm sure I looked confused.

"I like it. It's nice. But ... I guess put the house key on it?"

"No, your car keys," said his father.

"Well. One day. I will need to get a car first. Someday I hope to."

"Not someday. This weekend."

"Huh? I don't understand. I've hardly saved anything. I have only had a job for three weeks."

That was true. Most people use spring break to have fun, relax, unwind. Anson and I had talked about getting jobs. After spring break, we knew the last weeks of school would be a downhill slope. Our grades were good. I had gone job hunting. Anson and I had put in applications. I got accepted at a restaurant. Quemado was a steak house with a Mexican flair. I was a busboy. It didn't have a high-earning wage, but I did get a bit of the tip share from the service staff. When I got my nametag, it was misspelled: Jacob. I had to tell them that it was spelled with a "K." It had happened frequently in my life each year as new classes started.

"Let's talk about it," he said. "With your job, you need to be independent. You can't just keep hoping we can take you."

"I can ride my bike when I need to."

"We want to go car shopping with you."

"I can't afford a car."

"Well, let's discuss it. We'd like to go look at used cars with you. We'll add you to our insurance and we'd like to pay half of your monthly statement. That way it would only cost you half of what you might think."

"I can't let you do that!!"

"We want to."

"It's too much," I said, looking at both parents. "You can't do that for me. Really, it's too much."

"We love you, Jakob. We want to help."

I was dumbfounded. It was too kind a gesture. I was all but paralyzed. I didn't move until they all surrounded me and hugged me.

 

"The Petriellos helped me get a car. A used car. They made half the monthly payments, and I paid the other half. It was easy enough for me. It was only $250 a month. Since I didn't have any other expenses, I could make $125 easy enough. I wasn't going wild spending my paychecks."

"What a lovely gesture."

"Yeah." I paused a moment. A wave of appreciation — even 12 years from the past — swarmed me. My mouth started to quiver. I quickly wiped a tear from my eye. "They ... they ... treated me like a son." I sniffed and wiped another tear. "I didn't hear a single thing from my real family, and these people — who owed me nothing — helped me get a car, to start making steps in life."

More tears came. I saw a box of tissues on a shelf across the room. I stopped talking and went over to get one. I wiped my eyes and blew my nose. I took note of some of the books on Trevor's shelf. There seemed to be several on gay studies. I blew my nose again.

"I'm sorry. I didn't expect that to hit me."

"No problem."

"That was probably the first time I had felt anger at my parents."

"You didn't when they kicked you out??"

"No. Maybe deep down I thought I brought it on. I probably felt it was my fault. I don't know. It was just the way things were working out. But my birthday, wow. That really put things in contrast."

"I'm sure. It's a lot for an 18-year-old to process."

 

Anson and I had prepared for bed. I was still in a stunned state.

"I can't believe your family, bear. They are way too nice to me."

"They love you. You're like a son. I love you, too."

He kissed me.

"I love you too, bear. I just ... I just don't deserve any of this."

"Why do you say that?"

"Your family has taken me in. That's more than anyone could ever ask."

"I've never had a brother. We're like brothers."

"No, we're not. Brothers don't feel each other's dicks."

We both started laughing. Really loud. I kissed him again and turned out the light.

"You deserve more for your birthday," he told me, pressing his lips to mine.

Anson's hand found my crotch. I was starting to get erect. He pulled my underwear off. He took his off too. Having lived there for more than two months now, we masturbated a few nights a week, but certainly not every night.

"I want to do one last thing for your birthday."

He leaned down. I felt his tongue lick my shaft. I sucked in air. We had never explored anything orally, particularly with his parents in the house. His mouth went over the head of my penis and moved down the stiff flesh.

"Wow," I whispered.

He hummed a little. I moaned a little. Anson's head bobbed up and down on my hard-on. I wasn't sure what to do, but I loved how it felt. I let my fingers run through his hair. He spread my legs open and knelt between them. As he sucked my cock, one of his hands fondled my balls.

"Bear, this feels so good."

His mouth was magical on my erection. The warmth, the moistness, the tenderness. It was a great birthday gift. I'm sure it excited me. I could tell I was going to climax faster than I normally would. My cock felt electric. The veins were sonic. I felt I should tell him I was close to coming.

"Anson. It feels so good. I'm almost there."

He didn't pull off. My breathing was ragged. I was gasping. "Oh yeah."

The first shot fired into his mouth. He moaned very loudly at the sensation. I could feel actual suction on my cock as my next shot pulsed. He kept swallowing, and I kept shooting. It was a significant load. I was impressed his mouth stayed on my dick the entire time.

I exhaled, and he pulled his mouth off me. In the darkness, he kissed me. I could feel a little cum on his lip. He kissed me again. His tongue entered my mouth. I could feel my cum on it, too. It was sensory overload. My brain didn't know what to think. I'd never been so excited.

"Happy birthday, Jakob. I love you."

"Thanks, bear. I love you, too."

Anson was still kneeling between my spread legs. He asked me to sit up. I wasn't sure what he was planning. He turned around and leaned up against me. My spread legs nestled up to his, and I wrapped my arms around him. He began masturbating in my embrace.

"I love holding you," I whispered in his ear.

His arm pounded his hard cock.

"You're the perfect boyfriend," I whispered in his ear.

I could hear his breathing increase as his arm pounded his hard cock.

"I know your dick feels so hard right now. You're so hot," I whispered in his ear.

He began to moan as his arm pounded his hard cock.

"That's it, bear. Keep stroking," I whispered in his ear.

Anson moaned louder as his arm pounded his hard cock.

"I love you, Anson," I whispered into his ear.

His body began to pulse and writhe as his arm pounded his hard cock.

"That's it baby. You're going to come for me," I whispered into his ear.

"Yeah," he breathed as his arm pounded his hard cock.

"Come for me, bear," I whispered into his ear.

"Ungh!" he said vocally enough as his body pushed back into mine.

It was dark, but I was familiar with Anson's breathing. I knew he had hit climax and his hard cock was shooting white gratification on his chest. He panted and gasped. I squeezed tighter. I felt just a small splatter of cum hit my wrist. He softly moaned as his body jerked with each ejaculation. In the darkness, his breathing and moaning straddled a borderline of pleading and ecstasy. It was thrilling to be connected to it. Soon, he completely rested still. His body melted into mine.

"A bonus birthday gift," I said.

He chuckled.

"Do you think your parents heard you?" I asked in the darkness.

"Probably not. I would think they're asleep. Even if they did, it wasn't like we were wild and screaming. I'm sure they know we have sex of some kind. It would be naïve if they didn't suspect. They're fine. I'm sure."

I thought for a moment. The contrast between his parents and mine was mind-boggling. My dad would have probably strangled me if he knew what was going on. I was in a trance as the realization of actually having had oral sex sunk in. I guess I expected it to happen eventually. I didn't know if there was some kind of sign or when you knew it was the right time. The fact that it was my birthday seemed ideal.

"Thanks for my first blowjob. I would have given you one too if you wanted."

"We have our whole lives ahead of us."

 

"The birthday ended in my first blowjob." I paused. "Jeez. That sounds so crass. I'm sorry. I hope I didn't offend you," I said to Trevor.

"Jakob. Please. I'm gay. That wouldn't offend me."

"Things really heated up that week. We had gotten into a routine of ... jacking off about every other day, maybe three times a week. That week, we had taken it to a new level. We had oral sex every night. Then it slipped back into the old routine."

My gaze turned to Trevor. I was stunned that I could say that to someone. Lance had certainly had an effect on me these past years.

"Your year sounds like it started off well. You said it went downhill."

"Oh, yes. Anson and I each found different jobs. We spent less time together. We still shared a bed and things were good up to graduation, but I could tell things changed. I remember one night I kissed him good night and said, "I love you." He replied, "Good night, Jakob." It just struck me. I noticed it. In the weeks that followed we hardly ever had any type of sexual contact. It just ... didn't happen. Maybe on a rare occasion."

"You didn't ask if anything was wrong?"

"No. I think I might have been afraid to. If he didn't love me anymore, I was worried the family might kick me out. I guess I didn't push it."

"Did you ever find out what changed?"

"Yes. More than 10 years later when I was 29. I'm not sure I'd like to share it."

"Fair enough. But if you feel like it later."

"Perhaps. The summer was fine. We really did become more like brothers."

 

My shift at the restaurant was that evening. I had picked up a lunch shift for a little extra money. Those are always quick. I had a few hours at the house in between.

"There's fresh lemonade in the fridge, Jakob, and I made a cherry pie if you'd like something," Mrs. Petriello said to me.

"I'm good right now, but maybe later this afternoon. Thanks, Mom." I stopped. "I mean ... hahaha ... thanks, Mrs. P. Sorry."

"Aw. I don't know. I kind of like it that you called me Mom."

I gave her a quick peck on the cheek and then walked into the living room. I don't know why, but something swept over me. I was overcome with the feelings I had toward her. It was like a wave. I thought about what my life would be if she and her husband had not been there for me. I walked back into the kitchen and hugged her. I didn't say anything. I just held her tightly. I could feel her arms respond in kind. We didn't say anything; we didn't need to in order to communicate.

 

"Even though Anson and I didn't seem like boyfriends anymore, I still held him in bed at night. I enjoyed that, at least."

"But they eventually moved away, didn't they?"

"They did. It was near the end of the summer. It was so painful. Painful in two ways. Not only was I losing these people I had dearly come to love, but once again, I was on my own. This time I at least had a car and a job. But it wouldn't be easy, and I had to move quickly."

 

"Jakob, could we see you in the living room?" Anson's father said to me on a Saturday afternoon.

I came in from the bedroom to find the whole family there. It immediately seemed serious. I could tell by their expressions something was wrong. My first inclination was that they were going to tell me someone I knew had died. I braced myself.

"We want to talk to you about something," Mrs. P. said.

"This is very hard," Mr. Petriello said. "We are so saddened to bring you news like this. I ... I have accepted a position in Wisconsin. We ... we are going to be moving in a couple of weeks. Anson said he wished to move with us."

It started to sink in. They were leaving. I wasn't going with them. Oddly, I didn't panic like I did earlier this year. As I tried to pay attention to the things they further said, my mind was racing to think of someone at work I might approach to move in with. When I snapped back to paying attention, both of Anson's parents had watery eyes. I could tell they were sincerely sad for me. Anson didn't seem as upset.

I nodded. "I understand."

A tear went down Mrs. Petriello's cheek. That made Anson cry a little.

"We'll figure out what to do in this next week, okay?" she said.

 

"I had gotten to know almost everybody at the restaurant, my work. At first, I was surprised how many people in that field are gay. One of the bartenders, some servers. I talked to several of them about my dilemma. One of them mentioned Christobal could use a roommate. Christobal was one of the dishwashers. He spoke English well enough, but not enough to interact with the clientele. He was a hard worker. He was nice. And he was gay, so that wouldn't be a problem."

"So the two of you became roommates?"

"Yes. He was 24, so his age helped with leases and things. I'm not sure they would lease to an 18-year-old. We went into the apartment office together. We dressed nicely and acted responsibly. I think they liked us enough and felt we would be good tenants. And let's face it. It wasn't the flashiest complex in town. It was old, but not rundown. It was smaller than some of the other apartments several of the servers had. But ... it was a place to live. I got that handled fairly quickly."

"Indeed. What about furniture?"

"Yeah. Ha. I had none. Obviously. So, I had enough saved to where I could easily afford a futon mattress, and I found a chest of drawers at a garage sale. That was it."

"Sparse. I suppose it sufficed at the beginning."

"Beginning. Right. I thought eventually I would save for a bed. That was the intention."

 

It was my last night at the Petriellos home. So much of the house was packed in boxes. Anson's bedroom was mostly intact. The guest room was gutted. They had one week left before the move.

"Last night," I casually said to Anson as we climbed into bed.

"Yeah."

He gave me a peck on the lips. We hadn't kissed in two weeks. Even though the romance part of our relationship had faded, I still held him each night. He would sometimes hold me. After being quiet for a couple of minutes, Anson rolled to face me.

"It's going to be weird. I've gotten used to you being with me each night."

"Agreed. But ... you haven't loved me for a while, so I figured you were ready to see me go."

"Part of me will always love you, Jakob. I'm in a different place right now. I haven't been open with you lately. I'm sorry that it just seemed like I pulled away. It wasn't fair to you."

"Okay." I didn't know how to respond.

"One last time?" he said, pulling off his underwear.

"Sure," I said, following suit.

Neither of us touched each other. It was just side-by-side masturbating. Still, it was a connection that was nice to experience again. I hadn't come in quite a while either, so this worked.

Anson stroked his cock slowly. He wasn't in a rush. I matched his gradual pace. His moaning was quiet, but it was there. We serviced our erections for about 10 minutes, then he switched hands and reached over to hold my free one. Wow. It had been a while since we had held hands.

We picked up the pace. Anson's moaning got louder. Had his parents been in the hall, they could have heard, but they were in their bedroom. We assumed.

"Ungh!" he moaned as the first blast came. "Ungh, ungh," he released as his orgasm continued. As his climax finished, his whole body trembled that shook the bed. I thought that was arousing. He blew out a big burst of air in an extreme exhale.

"Man."

Without asking, I reached over and wiped his cum into my hand. I started with his dick, working every bit of liquid into my palm. Then I scooped the puddle at the navel that I knew was there. I soaked my dick in it. I ran my hand down the center of his chest to squeegee the first blast that had erupted from his cock. My hard-on was a slippery, gooey pole. I worked my grip up and down. At first, I liked the slow stimulation from the slick strokes. I increased tempo, and softly moaned as my cock felt so masculine covered in Anson's semen. It was like an aphrodisiac. Minutes later, I picked up the rhythm. Anson reached for my free hand.

"Come for me, Jakob," he whispered into my ear.

I didn't say anything. My breathing was deep and heavy and ragged. I wasn't there, but I was getting there.

"Shoot all over your chest," he whispered.

My breathing and moaning merged. My heart was racing. My dick was throbbing. It felt so incredibly good.

"Come for me, come for me, come for me," he whispered, his lips barely touching my ear.

"I am. I am. I am. Ohhhhh, I'm coming, Anson."

My cock felt like a firehouse. I felt liquid spray and squirt for hours — or what felt like it. The first wave hit my chin. My chest became coated. I could feel it drip from my chest hair. It was all over my torso, my navel. My final jerks to my dick oozed just enough cum to drip down over my fingers into my bush. As my orgasm ended, I gasped for breath.

"Whoa," I called out in a soft groan.

"Awesome," he said, sitting up in the bed.

Before I knew what happened, Anson's legs were straddling my body on both sides. He pushed his penis into the cum around my navel.

"Umm ..." I didn't know what to say. I wasn't expecting anything further to happen.

Anson wriggled his cock, which had gotten a little firm again all through the cum. Then he moved down just a touch and lowered onto his elbows. He leaned in and kissed me. It was a quick, simple kiss. Then he went in deep. His tongue was in my mouth. I put my arms around his back. He moved off his elbows and fully laid on my chest. The cum merged our bodies together. We were in a sticky bond.

"Oh, wow."

"I will miss you, Jakob."

We were way too messy to stay this way for the night. He got up and walked to the bathroom to get a towel. I was impressed he was brave enough to walk down the hall, even the short distance, completely naked. Not only naked, smeared with male liquid. He came back with a wet washcloth and a dry towel.

We cleaned our bodies. Once the lights were out, he rolled on his side.

"Hold me again, Jakob?"

 

"Anson and I had one last night together. It wasn't as wild as that around my birthday, but romantic to a degree. Much more than the past two months had been. He told me he would miss me. The next morning, I packed a few things into the car. I drove to the apartment and carried it in. I had lunch with the Petriellos, and then they went with me to purchase the futon. We had found the chest of drawers the day before, so his father had an SUV that would transport both. We got it all into my new bedroom. It looked incredibly empty. Mrs. P. had given me some blankets and a spare set of sheets that didn't fit that well but would work."

 

"Well, I guess this is home now," I said.

I hadn't ever really seen Mr. Petriello cry, but both my replacement parents were.

"I hate this," Mrs. P. said. "I'm going to miss you. We love you, Jakob. You do know that, don't you?"

I nodded.

"Here," Anson's dad said. He handed me a manilla envelope.

"It's not everything you will need, but it's what we can offer."

"What?"

I looked inside. It was an envelope of money.

"I can't take this. You don't have to do this."

"It's the least we can do. We never meant to leave you in a lurch."

"You could never do that. You saved me when I needed it. I'll learn to survive on my own. You got me here."

All of us hugged. We didn't let go for a long time.

"You've been my family these past months. I will always love you," I said, finally letting go.

She sobbed. They began to make their way to the car.

They rolled down the windows to say one last goodbye. I wondered if I would get one last kiss from Anson. We looked into each other's eyes. He gave me a wave.

"Bye, bear," I said. And they drove off.

 

"Saying goodbye was incredibly hard. Before they left, they had even given me some money to help, but I was scared. I took some deep breaths. Then I walked into the apartment. Christolbal was bringing his things in that evening. Before I left, I had given the family a present to remember me by. It was a kiln-fired glass dish. I knew teal was Mrs. P's favorite color and it had a few streaks of burgundy and blue-violet. They loved it. It was the most expensive present I had ever given anyone. Granted, I was a teenager. It was still less than a hundred dollars, but at the time, the priciest gift I had ever purchased."

"You didn't attempt to contact them after the move?"

"No. I didn't have a cell phone yet. I had no idea what their address would be. Perhaps I felt the rip-off-the-bandage approach would make me feel completely independent. I wish I had. We eventually reconnected a decade later."

"How were things with your new roommate?"

"Actually pretty good. The race difference and different schedules didn't have us interacting a lot. I mean, we definitely communicated, but he had his own set of friends. He was easy to live with: relatively clean, polite and friendly, picked up after himself."

"You said he was gay. Did he have a boyfriend?"

"No, not really."

"No spark between you then?"

"No. I think he wanted someone Hispanic, if for nothing else, the ease of language. We had some laughs at times when we might be watching a show or at the store when we discussed who was good looking. Plus, Christolbal was pretty handsome. I'm sure he wanted someone better looking than me."

"Did he ever tell you that?"

"Oh no. He was very polite. I was just glad I didn't have to hide anything around him. I was myself."

"I see."

"He would bring a date home from time to time. I gave them privacy. A few spent the night."

 

I took the empty popcorn bowl to the kitchen. I saw Christolbal and Antonio were rather cozy on the couch, so I said my pleasantries and went to my bedroom.

I was deep into a book from the library, so finding some time to read some more was fine. Before I started a second chapter, I went to the bathroom and brushed my teeth. Christolbal had the master bedroom, so his bathroom was attached. Mine was just off the hall outside my door. I noticed the lights were out, so I knew they were turned in. It was 11:30.

I returned to my place in the book. A few minutes later, I heard a light noise through the door. The bedrooms did not share a wall; the living room was between them both.

I determined the sound was Antonio. It was not Christolbal's voice. I put the book down and cracked my door to see if everything was okay.

"Ohhhhh yeah," Antonio groaned.

"Ungh. Ungh." That was Christolbal.

Ah. They were having sex. I knew nothing was wrong. I was going to return to my book, but I found myself listening to them for a moment. I had never heard anyone else have sex before. It felt invasive, but at the same time, I found it hot. I groped my crotch as I listened. Knowing two men were going at it in my apartment was arousing.

"Yeah baby. That's it. Suck it baby."

"Mmmm. I love your cock. Ohhhh yeah."

A part of me was a bit put off that they didn't care that I could hear them. Clearly, they didn't mind. Anson and I were never that loud. Parents down the hall prohibited that. Plus, these guys were probably doing more than we did.

"I need you inside me, baby," Antonio called out.

Yep. More than we did.

A minute later, Antonio groaned loudly. I guessed that Christolbal was indeed inside his ass.

"That's it, baby. Ohhhhh yeah. It's good."

I turned off my light and propped open the door a few inches.

"Fuck yeah. Fuck me with your cock!"

Christolbal was grunting. I could tell he was fucking him hard. My dick was a hammer. I laid on my mattress and shimmied out of my underwear. I jerked my hardened meat as I listened to these two men. I didn't masturbate as much as I did when I first felt the freedom of my own room, but still at least two or three times a week. I stopped thinking about Anson a month ago — at least when I jacked off. My mind would drift to coworkers or handsome customers I had seen in the restaurant. Listening to these two, I didn't have to imagine much. I even softly moaned since I knew their volume would cover mine.

"Oh, baby. Yeah! Keep me fucking me."

He did. It went on for several more minutes. I didn't. This was so thrilling and so scandalous and so invasive and so on fire. I could almost see it. "Yeah!" I called out as I started coating my pecs with cum. It just flooded from me as I listened to the sex show in the next room.

"Oh yeah, oh yeah. You're going to make me come. I'm coming baby. Ohhhhh yeah!"

"Yeah," Christolbal growled. "Oh man, that's hot."

It was. I laid there completely covered in my cum. I didn't move.

"Want me to come on your face?"

That was a thing?

"Keep fucking me. Come inside me, baby."

Thirty seconds later, Christolbal did. It was with a snarling growl.

"Whew," I whispered out loud. I got up and felt for a shirt in my dirty clothes. I wiped my chest for a solid minute trying to get my climax off my skin and from the hair on my chest. I shut the door completely. As I lay back in bed, my mind was a pinball. Did people not care about privacy? Would I ever be fucked? How weird that they both spoke their passion in English. How did you clean up after being fucked? Would my roommate mention it the next day? Can you ask about it? What does being fucked feel like? Were they in love? Would this happen again?

It didn't. Antonio never came back to the apartment. Christolbal went to his once, and that was it.

 

"I guess I did a lot of growing up very quickly."

"Meaning?"

"I learned more about the world in a few months. However, I developed a sense of pride. At least for a short time. Most of my friends would go through college and not be in the real world for years. I wasn't in my 20s, and I had a place to live and was on my own. At that age, I wasn't fully aware of what all I didn't have."

"You met bills okay for being a busboy?"

"That's just it. Rent and the car payment took most of everything. I started using the envelope of money for food. Luckily, I could eat at the restaurant several times a week. I had no insurance, so thank heavens I didn't have any health issues. I thought I was doing okay, but Mr. Petriello told me I would be on my own for car insurance after the end of the year. Insurance companies aren't super kind to 18-year-old males."

"You are correct."

"Plus the entire car payment was now mine. I always laughed inside when I would hear servers come in close to the end of the month and announce they needed to make $500 this week for rent. I always thought, `Did rent come as a surprise?' You know about it all month. So many of them went out drinking after their shifts. They'd spend almost everything they made by going clubbing. I was underage, so that didn't happen with me."

I stopped and thought a moment. I noticed Trevor looking over his glasses. I could tell he was observing. He let me think.

"You know, finances weren't my issue. Then. Although I worked with these people, and they liked me — I was a hard worker —they weren't friends that I really associated with outside the restaurant. They were all old enough to drink. I guess I felt a little lonely. I missed the Petriellos. I didn't have a sense of family. Thanksgiving was a little rough, but Christmas was hard. Really hard. I had no one to buy gifts for. I knew no one would buy me anything. My family had no way to know where I even was."

"You never visited home? You didn't check in?"

"Nope. I was too scared to hear more words from my father. I accepted why he kicked me out. I didn't agree, of course, but I knew his reason. Anything else he might say would just be daggers. I was afraid to hear it."

"That must have been really hard then."

"It was. I actually cried myself to sleep Christmas Eve. I didn't feel like an adult then. I felt like a little kid that had nowhere to go for Christmas."

"Did the holidays ever get better over the years?"

"I wouldn't say better. That first year just cut deep. Once I knew what it felt like, I could at least brace for it. My survival skills increased. Until the drinking made things worse years after that. That first year was when I had my first actual drink."

"Tell me about it."

"Most companies that have holiday parties do so before Christmas. Because the restaurant was so busy with those parties through December, they closed early on December 29 and all the workers came in for a holiday party. Loud music, drinking, lots of food. They played some game; I can't even remember what it was. Beer was flowing, but the house drink was our signature margaritas. I learned soon that margaritas would become my drink. I took an immediate liking to them."

"Even though you were 18."

"About that. Three employees were underage. Two hostesses and me. Those two stuck to a strawberry daiquiri. They were fine. I tried a margarita. The boss looked at me. She didn't say anything, but the look said, `Do not get into trouble when you leave the building.' I knew it was a liability that could hurt the restaurant. But I had two. They were strong."

 

The party lifted my spirits somewhat. But I felt strange. My head was full of cotton. I assumed this was what was known as "a buzz." I really liked those drinks. But now I had to get home. It was a mile and half. I could do that, right?

I started the car. I was terrified. What if I got pulled over? What if I got arrested? What if the restaurant was fined? I breathed extra slow. I made sure I signaled every turn. I didn't want to speed. Maybe I should slow down. I looked at the speedometer. I was going 20. I didn't need to slow down. As slow as I was breathing, my pulse was surging. My heart started beating faster and faster.

Crap! A cop was coming the other direction. Crap, crap, crap, crap. I exhaled and drove like everything was cool. I tried not to have an expression that said, "I've had two drinks!" What did a regular expression look like? He passed me. Thank God. I turned the corner, and I was home. It took me two minutes to park correctly, but ... I made it.

Christolbal got home 15 minutes later. He had more to drink than me.

"Glad you made it home okay," I said.

"Oh, yeah, man. No problem."

We chuckled and talked about the party a few minutes.

"Did you see Cameron and Phil?" he asked me.

"No. What about them?"

"They started making out in a booth."

"Phil? Phil always said he was straight."

"That what he says but get some alcohol in him and those words fall right off."

We plopped down on the couch.

"Want a beer?" he said.

I never touched my roommate's alcohol. I felt it was off limits.

"Nah, I have a buzz. I'm fine."

"I suppose me too."

We were quiet a moment.

"So, Phil and Cameron. I wonder if they are doing it?" Christolbal mumbled. "I wonder if Cameron will get Phil to fuck?"

I didn't know what to say. It was odd to talk about others having sex. I never mentioned hearing him and Antonio a few weeks ago.

"What about you, amigo? Are you a top or bottom?"

Amigo was a nickname Christolbal called me. He said it once at the restaurant, and I smiled big. I guessed he felt I liked it. He called me that more than my name after that, even here at the apartment.

"Um. What? I don't ..."

"Do you like to be the one fucking or the one being fucked?"

"Oh. I've never done any fucking. Only sucking."

I suddenly felt like I was 12. Nothing made you feel less of an adult than talking about your lack of sexual experience.

"Want to try?"

I didn't. No matter how much I had to drink, I knew I didn't want to get private with someone I didn't really love or like in that way at all. It was too personal.

"I don't think so. But thanks."

I felt weird. I figured I should just go to bed.

"How about we just beat off then? You can do that, right?"

"Here? On the couch?"

"Sure! We've both had enough to drink. Neither of us is holding anything back."

I was. This was strange territory. He stood up and pulled a DVD off a shelf. After placing it in, he turned on the television, turned out all lights but one and grabbed remotes. Within minutes, I saw naked men having sex before my eyes. I didn't have a laptop. I had never seen porn before. If felt filthy. The acting was terrible; the plot was ridiculous. But the men were gorgeous.

Christolbal had unzipped his fly. He was sitting four feet away from me and pulled out his dick. It was hard. Mine was too watching these men, but this situation was uncomfortable to me. If I walked out, he would probably think I was a scared kid. Maybe because I was a scared kid.

"Don't be shy, amigo. Pull it out."

He took his shirt off and then started stroking his cock.

I caved to the pressure. I unbuttoned my jeans. I stretched out my briefs and pulled out my cock.

"Oh. You have a small one. Hm."

Swell. That made me feel worse. Truth be told, I thought his dick was gross. It didn't seem like the uncut ones — all two of them — I had seen, and the coloring of his seemed unusual. I guess I hadn't seen many penises. What did I know? Clearly the two of us were probably not a suitable match when it came to dicks. For a moment I thought about Anson's. I loved his.

We watched the sex scenes and stroked our erections. It seemed outrageous to me that these men let others film them naked and having sex. Who did that? Did their mothers know?

"This guy's hot," my roommate said as a new scene started.

"Yeah, he is."

"Look at that meat. That dude is hung."

He sure was. It was intriguing and repulsive and masculine and looked like it belonged on a Yeti. I was freaked by it but couldn't take my eyes off it. My dick looked even smaller to me now. His was huge, but I didn't find it good looking. He was, but his anatomy just seemed ... excessive. What made a dick good looking anyway?

"He gets me every time. I'm gonna shoot my load."

I saw thick ropes of cum spurt from Christolbal's dick. As much as I didn't like his penis, he had a nice bush that I thought was manly. With each blast of cum, he groaned out loud.

I wasn't sure what he would do next. I just kept watching the video. To my surprise, he just remained there motionless with the cum stuck to his chest. His was thick.

The incredibly hung man started fucking a blond guy. I found him sexier. His moustache did something for me. As he was impaled by this huge pole, he groaned loudly. I couldn't tell if it felt good or not. But watching him crank his cock brought me to the edge.

"Oh man."

My dick exploded. I had come much more in the past, but this was a good load. I couldn't remember the last time I had come actually.

"Amigo! Man! Look at all that."

I immediately felt exposed. I had left my shirt on, and it was covered in my cum. I pulled it off. I placed my cock back in my briefs. I wanted to leave.

"I'm going to bed. Good night."

"Buenos noches, amigo."

I have no idea how long he stayed there. I was awake for at least 15 minutes. I could hear the video continue to play. Listening to other people I didn't even know have sex seemed dirty. I didn't like it. I went out to brush my teeth. I saw Christolbal either asleep or passed out. His dick was hanging to the side. It wasn't that big. Maybe average. I still didn't like how it looked. His cum was still on his chest.

I actually wished I could have one more margarita.

I reached for the remote and turned everything off. After brushing my teeth, I went back to bed and eventually fell asleep.

 

"Margaritas became my favorite drink that night. However, I didn't like having to drive. I've never thought of that night as my first step to a drinking problem. However, it very well could have been."

 

 

* * * *

 

A new blog post for this chapter is called "18." You can find the background and insight at timothylane414stories.blogspot.com