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Meeting No. 10 August 9

"Hi, I'm Gordon and I'm an alcoholic."

"Hi Gordon," the group replied.

"This is my third meeting, but the first time I've said anything."

I thought I had seen Gordon before but wasn't sure. Looking at him now, he seemed to be in his young 20s. He looked cute ... in a way. He needed some maintenance, but with a bit of a makeover, I thought he could be rather handsome. Not that I wished alcoholism on anyone but seeing a younger person like me kind of made me feel less alone. I guess a few of our group were in their 20s.

Gordon held up a book.

"I finished reading this book last night. You might think, `Big deal.' But it is a big deal. For me. It's the first book — of this size at least — that I've ever read. Because ... because ..."

Gordon wiped a tear from his eyes. His hair was a mess. I wasn't sure if it was because he kept running his hand through it or if he liked it that way.

"Because I never learned how to read. I struggled from a young age. I was in special ed, and that got me passing grades — passing enough anyway. But I couldn't read. Not much beyond a third-grade level if that. Probably not. I scored poorly in all my classes. The only thing I liked to do in school was paint. I was good at art. I loved that class. I felt like one of the smart kids in art because I could do whatever the teacher asked, and I made it look great. Junior high was not easy. I still had special ed classes, but I just felt dumber and dumber. I hated school. What friends I had drifted away because we didn't have any of the same classes. Without a home room, I didn't really fit in to anything. Except art."

As I listened to Gordon, I tried to picture not being able to read but couldn't fathom what that would be like.

"By high school, most people I knew made fun of me. Especially my family and relatives. Mom stuck up for me, but even Dad expressed disappointment. `You'll never learn anything,' he said. That wasn't true. I learned to drink. My older brother snuck me alcohol when I turned 17. I dropped out my junior year. I knew I wouldn't pass anything except my special courses. I became a total jerk to be around. I was angry and a dick of a kid. By the time I was 18, I was drinking at least three drinks a day. If my brothers were around, it may have been more. I didn't even hide it from my parents at the end.

"At 19, I was told it was time for me to be on my own. I had nowhere to go. I couldn't get a job not being able to read. My oldest brother felt sorry for me. He got me a job with a lawn service. Other than a few forms to fill out at the beginning, which he helped me do, I was okay doing the physical work. It was good to earn my own money. I paid my brother some to help with rent, but I bought more beer too."

Gordon stared at the book cover.

"As much as I was an ass to most people, I never was that way on the job; I knew where my beer money was coming from. I was always nice to my brother too. But usually I was quiet. If anyone said anything to me, I was generally surly. I said something really crappy to one of my brother's friends at our apartment. After that, he put his foot down. He said if I didn't stop drinking, I would have to leave and be on my own. But he also said he would tutor me if I wanted to learn to read. That scared me. I couldn't afford to be on my own, so I said I'd stop. I did. Cold turkey. I wanted to jump out of my skin after a couple of days, I wanted a drink so bad. My brother searched my room constantly to make sure I was keeping my word. I didn't blame him. I wouldn't have trusted me either. But every time I wanted to drink, he told me to ask him to help. Every time I struggled, we sat down with a book and some paper.

"My brother wasn't an educator or anything, but he was a good teacher. I don't know why things started to click with him but didn't back in school, but I picked up on a few things. He had bought a few used books that were simple. We learned harder words as we went along. It was ... enjoyable doing it with my own brother. I didn't feel like a teacher was thinking poorly of me. I knew he really cared.

"Soon the reading lessons weren't enough. My body still craved a drink. So, I looked up AA. Here I am. But, for me to hold up this book and say I read it ... that's huge. It's a good book too. I recommend it."

Gordon slightly chuckled.

"Thank you."

The group clapped.

"Hi, I'm Janine. I'm an alcoholic."

"Hi Janine," the group replied.

"It's my fourth job this year, but I've kept it now for three weeks. And I fit in. I treat customers well, and I think I'm doing a good job. My supervisor seems to like me. He might have a crush on me, but I don't need that. My focus is just on keeping this one.

"That's all. Thank you."

The group clapped.

Jakob and I had sat next to each other. Neither of us shared tonight. Ophelia had her daughter this weekend, so she wasn't there. I had held Jakob's hand from time to time during the meeting. I wasn't sure if he would be comfortable with it. To be honest, I was amazed I was. A few months ago, I would have panicked at the thought of showing a guy affection in public. Trent held my hand in support at my first meeting. I had a death grip on it. I surprised myself by how much I had changed. I was also surprised at how no one cared at all that we held hands. I had been worried all that time — all those years — probably for nothing.

I got my tenth signature. The form was done. I would turn it in to the judge tomorrow and could have the suspension removed from my license. I thought I'd be thrilled. But I was hardly excited at all. It was funny how that wasn't as important to me right now. I had adapted.

"I'm three pounds away from losing the 20 I want to. I'm dying for a pizza, but would you join me for dinner if I had a salad?" I asked Jakob.

"I'd join you if you were eating a live boa constrictor," he answered.

I chuckled. We walked a few blocks to a salad bar place. It was dead on Sunday. Even though it was a salad, I still loaded it up with enough fancy items to make me feel like I was enjoying something special. Jakob got a baked potato.

"Do you want a place of your own?" I asked him as we ate. "I guess that's a dumb question, huh?"

"Well, I definitely don't want to live in a shelter the rest of my life. I'll never make enough to live on my own, but maybe if I can find a roommate or two — who don't drink — I could maybe make it work. I don't think too far ahead. I mean ... I guess I should have a goal, yes, but I've learned not to get my hopes up."

"Well, if you picture it, that's the first step, I suppose."

Jakob reached across the table to pick a few things off my salad. I slid it closer offering anything he wanted. It was a big salad.

"I got my tenth signature tonight. That means I can get my license reinstated. I hope. I'll see the judge tomorrow."

"But ... you crashed your car."

"Right. My father is coming into town next weekend. We plan to buy me a new one."

"Wow. That's nice. Your father sounds awesome."

"He is. I love him. I can't wait for you to meet him."

Jakob gulped and choked. He swallowed wrong. He took a drink of water and choked on that. It took him a moment, but he found his bearings.

"You want ME to meet your father?"

"Is that bad?"

"Lance. How would you introduce me? `Hey, Dad. This is Jakob. He's a homeless alcoholic who works in a convenience store and has no future.'"

"Stop that. I would probably just say, `This is Jakob. He's a new friend in my life. We've been seeing each other a little bit. I care about him and wanted you to meet him.' Would that be so bad?"

"Nicely worded, but hopefully you weren't planning on this weekend. Let's save that for down the road. And ... we only see each other at meetings. It's not like we go out or anything, except after meetings."

"If you wish, I can wait," I said. "I never want to pressure you to do anything. You let me know if you are ever uncomfortable. I'm not that guy to push you into what you don't want."

"You're too nice to me."

"Oh please. I like you. I like it when we spend time together."

"I feel like I should remind you that people beginning AA are encouraged not to date."

Jakob stabbed a cherry tomato off my salad. I ignored his last comment.

"And ... if I do get a car next weekend ... I could come pick you up if you'd like to share my bed again."

Jakob's eyes got big as he looked up at me, chewing with his mouth full.

"Are you sure? I mean, the `no sex' thing isn't a total turnoff for you?"

"I enjoyed you holding me the other night. Did you like it?"

"Definitely, yes." Jakob looked down at the last few bites of his potato. "Let me think on it. I don't know, Lance. We seem to be taking risks. It might be too tempting. If I told you Wednesday night, would that be okay?"

"It would be okay if you called me Sunday and said, `Come pick me up.'"

"Maybe we could print another letter to my Mom?"

"Okay, now we REALLY need to share the night."

"My God, Lance. Please never slip out of my life."

 

High school graduation was one week away. We had two rehearsals, one tomorrow and one the night before, next Friday. Everyone had their cap and gown.

At the first one, we all learned how to lineup in the staging area, how to enter and were admonished not to clown around. We practiced filling in the rows so we knew exactly where we would be sitting. I was near the back. No surprise. That's the curse of being a W. When lining up alphabetically, I was used to being near the end.

Randall's last name was Turner. He was just a row ahead of me. We hadn't talked much since the state debate tournament. We had no other classes together other than Debate. We never talked about our sexual exploration after that weekend. We were just a couple of guys who enjoyed fooling around.

"I'm having a party tomorrow," he told me after everyone started milling about. "Can you come?"

"I guess so. We're pretty much done with classes. Why tomorrow and not after graduation?"

"Oh please! Everyone does them then. I don't have relatives close enough to come in, so I thought I could get more friends this way. And I'm sorry about the late notice. I just got approval from the parents yesterday."

"I have nothing planned. Afternoon or evening?"

"Kind of both. Starting at 4, ordering pizzas and just chillin' in the backyard. Mom and Dad said no alcohol but would make virgin frozen drinks. I figured that would be fine. It's more than I thought I'd get."

"Sounds fun."

"They said I could ask one or two people to spend the night. Want to?"

A two-by-four slammed across my face. Why me? Would we fool around? Was that why he was asking? Was I hoping that was why he was asking? If he was asking because of why I was thinking he was asking, would I go along with it?

"Sure. If my parents say it's fine." I sounded casual. My heart was a jackhammer.

 

 

There were about 15 kids there. Just enough for everyone to always have someone to talk to. I knew everyone but three.

Randall's parents were really nice. They were very welcoming, strict but not too strict and left us alone for the most part. When food or beverages were involved, they helped administer that, but they didn't hover by any means.

As it started to get dark, a few tiki torches were lit, but his parents joked, "Last call" with a pitcher of virgin pina coladas. Everyone got a bit somber thinking about it all being over. We all sat close and leaned on each other. Everyone was pretty much ready for high school to be said and done, but deep down, we would probably miss it.

At 9:30, Mrs. Turner opened the patio door.

"All right kids. I hate to be the bad guy, but it is still technically a school night, and I told your parents you'd be home by 10."

Within 15 minutes, everyone had gone except me. I had placed an overnight bag in Randall's bedroom when I arrived.

"Is anyone else staying over?" I asked.

"No. I just asked you."

Well. That told me everything.

We helped pick up things from the backyard and put any last snacks away. I made a point to tell Randall's parents how nice everything had turned out and thanked them. I felt they appreciated that.

Just after 10, we shut the bedroom door.

"Don't stay up too late," I heard Mr. Turner's voice say through the door. "You've still got to get up at 6:45."

We started taking off our clothes. Randall plopped down on his bed in his underwear. I grabbed a toothbrush and headed into his bathroom.

"Can I use your toothpaste?" I asked.

"No prob."

Following that, I took a leak. When I came back out, he had a bedside lamp on, but all other lights had been turned out.

I stripped to my briefs. I crawled into bed on the side opposite the lamp. I covered half my body with the sheet. My chest stuck out.

Randall went in to brush his teeth. My heart was pounding. Was he going to do anything? Was the debate trip just a one-weekend thing? Would I initiate something if he didn't? Should I initiate something if he didn't? I was already hard a minute after I slid in bed. After I got so close to a panic attack, my cock softened. Was I sweating? Did I look nervous? I left my bare chest out of the sheet. Did that look sexy? Too obvious? Shit! What should I do? A few minutes later, Randall came out and set the alarm on his clock.

"Three days left. Monday and Tuesday next week should be a breeze," he said as he clicked buttons on the clock.

I then saw him take off his underwear and place them at the side of the bed. He slid into the sheets naked and turned out the light. I had been able to get a glance at his dick. It wasn't hard. It hung about three inches. I was glad I could see it for just a moment.

We laid there in the dark. Randall kept talking, making comments about the party. We talked for a few minutes, nothing intimate, nothing sexual. Knowing he was naked made me hard again.

"I'm glad you could stay over," he said.

Randall's hand reached over and touched my torso. He rubbed my chest a moment with his hand. His pinky slid in my navel for a few seconds, and it made tiny circles within the indentation. My breathing got heavy as his hand moved up and gripped my pecs. It was both electrifying and terrifying, but I was thrilled it was happening. His fingers moved lower and slid underneath the waistband of my briefs. Within seconds his hand had a grip on my cock. Between his hand and my erection, we were stretching the fabric to its limit. I reached down and pulled them a foot down my legs.

"You can take them off. It's okay," said Randall.

His grip grasped my dick tighter. I pulled my knees up so that I could completely slip my underwear off and laid them by the bed. The sheet was now pulled down to our knees. Randall pulled on my cock harder. He used regular strokes. I was nervous but ecstatic his hand was on my body. My stiff, hard, long, rigid body.

I reached over. Just enough light from the street came through the window so that I could see him in bed next to me. His erection was sticking straight up from his crotch. I wrapped my fingers around it. I could hear him moan ever so slightly. Both our arms were working in tandem stroking each other's cocks. Groping another guy was such a charge, yet it was just fooling around. I wasn't gay. It was just fun. Totally fun. We pulled on dicks like it was as common as eating chips.

Randall leaned over and put his mouth around my stone monolith.

"Oh yeah," I breathed out loud.

Randall worked on me for several minutes. While he had teased me at the tournament for a moment, I knew this was my first actual blow job. His warm, wet, sloppy mouth was heaven on my skin. I didn't know if I should be doing anything. I just placed my hand on the back of his neck. I moved my fingers to stroke through his hair as his head bobbed above my groin. I wanted to groan, but I didn't want his parents to hear. When I masturbated, I would usually get off in less than 10 minutes. He had serviced me close to that. It felt so good.

Neither of us were too loud. There was no way the slurping and sucking sounds could be heard outside the room. He moaned on my flesh softly. I whispered his name on occasion as he continued to suck on my throbbing organ. I thought my cock couldn't feel any better until it did. And did again. I felt so hard. I knew I was over eight inches. Randall had worked more than half of it into his mouth. His warm, slobbery, sensual mouth.

As the euphoric feelings escalated through my nervous system, my hips started to writhe. I squirmed in the oral experience. I moaned. I moaned faster. I moaned louder.

"Randall," I loudly whispered. I had hit the mark.

His mouth stayed on my phallus. I shot my load into someone's mouth for the first time. He grabbed my cock and jacked it as he continued to suck on my huge shaft. I felt stream after stream pulse from my dick into his throat. My hips bucked a bit and then my body slightly shuddered. I stopped coming, but he continued to suck me. He still pulled on my dick but with less force. I was done. He sucked me for two more minutes. And I loved it.

Randall pulled his mouth away from my flesh. He moved his face to mine and kissed me. His mouth opened and a drip of my cum entered my mouth. I couldn't believe how pumped I was on adrenaline. My face was flushed. It was incredible. Getting my first blow job made me feel electrocuted.

"Will you suck me?" he asked.

"Yeah. Give me your cock."

Even after coming, I was so caught up in the moment. I didn't even have to move. Randall positioned his crotch up to my face. He grabbed the headboard and started thrusting his erection into my mouth. I gagged at first, but then took it more slowly. Randall was probably a little over five inches. He felt comfortable in my mouth. I could take a lot of it. I was intrigued to feel the movement of his foreskin. It was different than me.

His motion was fast, but he didn't plunge deep. I took the hard tool sawing my face. I reached around and clutched his ass cheeks.

"Yeah. Do that," he said, not quietly.

I wasn't sure how long I had sucked his rigid organ. I got lost in the sensuality of it all. We worked at bringing Randall to climax. His breathing was heavy, deep, ragged. His thumb and pointer finger formed a ring around his cock, between my mouth and his pubic hair. He stimulated his erection while I sucked his dick like there was no tomorrow.

"I'm gonna come," he softly announced.

I was into it, but I wasn't sure I wanted his cum in my mouth. I pulled his hips back.

"Shoot on my chest. Come on me."

He grabbed his cock and yanked it fiercely. He moaned as his dick shot hot flame on my chest. I felt the warmth as the liquid hit my skin in a big splatter. His cum was thinner than mine, and I felt the liquid slowly move and drip. Randall's body jolted as further streams squirted out. He eventually stopped ejaculating cum.

"Holy fuck," he whispered.

Randall leaned down to me. His lips pressed to mine so hard. We kissed deeply. His body moved on top of mine and his cum stuck our two chests together. Despite the stickiness, it felt hot. I loved how it felt. He placed his head next to mine. We didn't say anything else. We just held each other tight. Stuck together.

Two minutes later, he went into his bathroom and grabbed a wet cloth. He wiped our chests, took the cloth back and turned out the lamp again.

I thought we would sleep, but Randall kissed me some more. We put our arms around each other and kissed for an indeterminable amount of time.

"We should probably get some sleep," I whispered.

"Yeah," he said.

He grabbed my cock and rolled me on my side. His arm was wrapped around me with a firm grip on my genitals.

"You're amazing, Lance," he said.

"Good night," I said.

He fondled and held my genitals for several minutes. I eventually felt his grip loosen, and I knew he had fallen asleep. I was staring at the walls. I wasn't freaked out; I was glad all that had happened.

Was it gay? I couldn't be gay. It was just fun. It was fun. Guys just being guys. Friends having fun.

We didn't do anything the next morning. We just showered and got ready for school. I barely saw him the rest of the next week. I never heard from him again. We slipped out of each other's lives.

 

"Jakob, I swear I will not let you slip out of my life. Right now, I'm glad you're in it. Neither of us are going anywhere, right?"

"No. You're a bright spot in my week. I love our time that we share each week."

"Then let's do another letter. Think about what you want to say, and we'll type it up next Sunday. Great idea."

"Okay. I'll really think about staying over. Thank you."

We cleared our plates. As we walked back to the center, small talk about what car I was wanting filled the conversation. For the last block, he reached for my hand. I was fine with that. He just lightly held it; we didn't interlock fingers. No one was around to see us.

I unlocked my bike and prepared to head home. Jakob gave me a kiss.

"Can't wait to see you again," he said.

"Same here. I'll see you Wednesday."

It only took a few minutes to bike home, but I filled it with something on my mind. Who had I let slip out of my life? It had been less than three months since graduation, but I dwelled on how many friends I had not called. They may not be close by, but I had their phone numbers in my cell. I could call. I needed to be better.

I locked up the bike at the apartment complex. Evan was still up. We talked a few minutes. I told him I invited Jakob to stay over next Sunday night, although I wasn't sure if he would. I explained why I said that. I wanted Evan to know why Jakob had become important to me and what he has had to endure. If I wanted him around the apartment more, I needed Evan to understand who Jakob was. He appreciated that.

I called Trent from my bedroom.

"Hey, I just needed to hear your voice."

"Anything wrong?" Trent said, sounding concerned.

"I don't think so. Just ... feeling a lot of things. I'm not sure. I thought talking to you might make it better."

"I'm here. Talk to me, buddy."

"I won't talk long. I know you have earlier hours than me."

"Is it Jakob?"

"Yeah." I didn't know if I could even express my feelings. "Trent, it seems like everything is against us. I mean ... we're not an `us.' We've become good friends. I like talking with him. Like you and me could in college. I like him. But ... newcomers to AA are encouraged not to date ... we're both alcoholics ... he's afraid to have sex..."

"Are you wanting to have sex?"

"Have you met me?"

"Right. Right."

"But, more important than sex ... I – I just want him to be okay. Kissing is nice. It's all we do. I'm afraid I will go too far and hurt him."

"Hurt him how?"

"That's just it. I'm not sure. I like him. He likes me, but he feels the reservations too. What if people are right? What if we shouldn't date? Plus, I'm me. I'm bound to do something stupid, and he'll give up on me — and what will that do to him?"

"What would it do to you?"

"Hurt. But I know myself. I wouldn't rush back to alcohol. Pain isn't a trigger for that anymore. The image of my father at the hospital shook me. Really shook me. To the core. I don't want to drink at all. The thought of going back to what I was terrifies me. But I don't know about him. Jakob seems to be a survivor, independent. But what if someone liking him causes him to stumble?"

"You sound like a good friend to me. He could sure use one judging from the little you've told me. Buddy, I'm not going to tell you what to do, but if you are worried about all the possibilities ... then make communication between the two of you the most important thing. If you are honest with each other, the right decisions might be easier to figure out."

"Mm. Right. It's very easy to talk to him. It's why I like him. I ... I can't say he's the most handsome guy in the world. Cute, I guess. But I see him ... I don't know, inside and out. That sounds dumb, but does it make sense?"

"Look at you! You're all Mr. Mature now that you have graduated."

I chuckled at Trent's jab. But truth be told, I didn't feel like a college kid anymore. We had indeed grown up.

"Hey, Lance?"

"Yeah?"

"I don't think Jakob would give up on you. You seem to be good friends and good for each other. If it goes further ... you're nice, you care, you're handsome, you have a killer cock..."

"...it's just a dick."

"Whatever. You're a catch. If he's smart, he'll hold on to you."

Those simple words touched me for some reason.

"Have I ever told you I love you?" I said back in appreciation.

"Not nearly enough. And I love you too. You'll be my best friend for my whole life."

We both said good night. My relationship with Trent always seemed to be fluid. At the university, I just wanted to be his friend. Then I was hot for him and wanted to fool around with him. Then we became friends ... best friends. Then I fell in love with him. Now ... what were we? What was I? He was right. We'll always be best friends. It seemed like my love was like a cement mixer, always tumbling. I now knew he and I could never be ... would never be ... a couple. If Jakob is to be off-limits, he and I might not work either. I seemed to be falling for men I couldn't have.

I got undressed and sat in bed. I picked up my phone again and started scrolling through the contacts. I was astonished at how many had accumulated over the years. While it would make sense to clean some out, I hesitated to do that. Maybe a few. But I had a connection to these people at some point. I needed to still work on that.

There was Randall's contact info. I sat the phone down. My mind went back to high school. That seemed so long ago. Yet, just mere months ago, I was still in denial; I was just "fooling around, having fun." Supposedly. What did I give up by being so stupid? A chance with Trent for sure, but maybe someone else. What was Randall doing nowadays?

I decided to text.

"Hey Randall. It's Lance. I'm not sure if this number still works, but I thought about you today. I wondered how you were. I know you went off to college in another state, but I haven't heard from you since. I hope you've been good, and life has gone well.

I'm a manager of a gym. Assistant manager actually. Life since graduation has been interesting. You?

How are your parents? Where are you now? If you've found someone to share your life with, I'd be interested hearing.

Reach out if you have a moment. If you want to that is."

Would he text back? Who knows? I felt better for having sent it anyway.

When I finally turned out the lights, my hand went down to touch my crotch. I reenacted how it felt when Randall first touched me. I had never forgotten.

 

* * * *

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