Date: Sat, 13 Nov 2021 23:01:11 +0000 From: Wes Leigh Subject: Misunderstood, Chapter 2 (Gay Adult/Youth) MISUNDERSTOOD By Wes Leigh This is a work of fiction intended solely for the entertainment of my readers; any resemblance to any real people or places is purely coincidental. This story is the property of the author and is protected by copyright laws. The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's consent. If you enjoy this story, please support the Nifty archives today with a thoughtful donation. Chapter Two Working at church had been fun. They'd finished cleaning up the side courtyard, earning Father Downing's praise for their hard work. He'd even hugged Andrew and told him he had been such a good worker that they would definitely ask for his help in the future. Andrew practically melted with joy hearing that. Dallas made it even better by inviting Andrew to come go swimming. But it didn't work out. Andrew's parents were too busy to take him over to the Anderson's house, even though it was just across the street. That sucked. And it kind of messed up the good day he'd been having. On Sunday, after church, the Wrights had another lunch date, this time with the mayor. By the time they got home, it was much too late to bother with swimming, so Andrew went to his room and read a book. When was he going to get to go? Summer was over, and it would soon be too cold to go swimming. Monday, the school was buzzing with the news that Alex Williams, Brent's older brother, had been expelled for conduct inconsistent with the moral principles of the Academy of Saint Thomas Aquinas. The oldest Williams boy, Jason, had also been pulled out of the Academy and both were now attending Palo Duro High School. Brent refused to explain why, but all the guys suspected it had to do with getting Marilyn Michaelson pregnant. Brent was moody and extremely upset, shrugging off any attempts to talk about it. Rumors abounded that Brent would be pulled out of the Academy too and sent to attend public school at any moment. That would be a disaster, because Brent always told such great stories about sex. Brent was so upset he didn't even join the other boys behind the gym that day. The boys missed his jokes and stories. Andrew missed seeing the other boys pop boners while listening to one of Brent's stories. They all hoped he would get over his funk soon. At supper Monday night, Dayna presented everyone with a special desert, a triple-layer ice cream cake. "What's this for?" Alan asked. Dayna smiled. "Yesterday, Father Downing mentioned how very pleased he was with a certain young man's help on Saturday. He said the young man worked very hard, never complained, and finished every job he was given. I thought it might be nice to reward him." Andrew's eyes opened wide in delight. Ice cream cake! Yum!! From underneath the table, King placed his heavy, furry chin on Andrew's knee, just to let him know how much the big dog liked ice cream cake too. Alan frowned. "Don't coddle the boy, Dayna. He did only what was required. He shouldn't be rewarded for being a good servant of the Church." Dayna nodded. "Yes, Alan. You're right, of course." But she still cut an extra large slice of cake for Andrew, winking at him as she set it before him. He smiled his gratitude and dug in. "Speaking of Father Downing," Alan said as Dayna handed him his own slice of cake, "he called asking if Andrew was available again this coming Saturday. I said he was." "Oh? I thought we were going shopping for new school clothes." Dayna mentioned. "It can wait. Serving the Church is more important." As always, Alan's decision was final. Andrew didn't mind. Not if he'd be able to work with Dallas and Father Downing again. That would be fun. At school the next day, Andrew saw Dallas talking to some other eighth graders. He waved shyly. Dallas saw him and excused himself, walking over to Andrew. "Hey, Drew. How's it hanging?" Andrew giggled and said, "Okay, I guess." Dallas thought it was cute how Drew was acting so shy today. "Did you hear about Alex Williams?" Andrew nodded his head. "I think just `bout everybody's heard by now." "Yeah. Crazy, huh?" Andrew nodded. Dallas shrugged. "That's why I don't screw with girls. Too much trouble!" Andrew stared at his feet. "Me either." Then he remembered Saturday and looked up, excited. "Dude, I'm helpin' at the church again this weekend." Dallas stopped smiling. "Oh? They didn't ask me to help." His heart sank. He thought he knew why. He didn't want to act like a silly, jealous girl over it, but it hurt his feelings to think of Andrew getting asked instead. He'd just have to pretend like it didn't matter. Andrew frowned. Judging by the look on Dallas' face, Andrew had done something wrong, but he didn't know what. "I didn't ask to work," he explained. "Father Downing set it up with my dad." Shrugging, Dallas said, "It don't matter. There probably isn't all that much to do. We finished almost everything last week so that's probably why they didn't ask for me." Dallas didn't care. Shit! Drew could be Father Downing's special helper from now on far as Dallas was concerned. He had plenty of other things to do. Maybe it was time to throw a swimming party. His parents would probably let him. Shrugging, he said, "See ya' around, Drew." "See ya', Dallas." Somehow, the conversation hadn't gone the way Andrew had hoped it would. Dallas returned to the group of eighth grade boys, asking them what they thought about having a swimming party on Saturday. One last fling before the summer ended. He said it loud enough for everyone in the hall to hear, glancing over one shoulder to be sure Andrew was listening. Andrew heard and sighed. He turned his back on Dallas and the other boys and walked down the hall, trying to sort out his feelings. It would be so much fun to go swimming with Dallas, but those big boys probably wouldn't want a little shrimp like him interfering with all their fun. He still wished he could go. Why did he have to work at the church on Saturday? Why couldn't it be some other day? Would it be just him and Father Downing? Would Father Murphy be there? It would be okay working for either one, he supposed, even though Dallas wouldn't be there. He had enjoyed working with Dallas, but swimming with Dallas would be so amazing! One of his friends grabbed his arm and pulled him into the boy's bathroom. Brent Williams was at the sinks, washing his hands with a smirk on his face. Several other sixth graders were standing around him, excited. Brent wasn't moody anymore. He seemed relieved about something. He grinned at his friends and said, "Things are going great now for my brother. Alex said changing schools was the best thing that ever happened to him. He loves going to Palo Duro. He told me there's tons of cute chicks there, and they're not as stuck up as the girls here at the Academy." He glanced around, conspiratorially, and whispered, "He's already kissed one of `em. With tongue and everything." Some of the boys grimaced and ewwwed. Others grabbed their groins and asked for details. Andrew was baffled. He understood that boys liked to kiss girls, but what did a tongue have to do with it? After Brent finished filling them all in, they were all slightly better informed and very excited, looking forward to getting alone in their individual bedrooms after school. Tongues and everything! Andrew wasn't sure he'd ever want to try that. It sounded gross. Brent was back in good form the rest of the week, telling dirty jokes at lunch and detailing his big brother's hijinks at the other school. The rest of the gang laughed at the jokes and listened eagerly to the stories, jiggling their boners around in their gray slacks, giving Andrew plenty to see out of the corner of one eye. When he got home, Andrew used both hands to jack off as he pictured Alex Williams sticking his cock in a high school girl. That was exciting, but not quite as sexy as Andrew wanted it to be, so he began picturing all his friends, with their pants around their ankles and their cocks in their little fists, peeking in a window as Alex and the girl did the dirty deed. That did the trick. His cock seemed to swell up even more. The little mushroom-shaped end turned bright red. He watched the skin sliding over it and then off again. Such a wonderful feeling. He closed his eyes and pictured his friends pumping their dicks, hands moving faster and faster, skin sliding over shiny, slippery caps. Andrew's body jerked and white spurts flew out onto the bathroom floor. Fucking awesome! He squeezed the now droopy tube of flesh to get another drop out. It was sure great having Brent back to his old self again. *** Father Downing was waiting in the church doorway when Dayna drove up with Andrew for the Saturday work session. Downing waved and walked up to the car, greeting Dayna when Andrew opened the door to get out. "Hello, Mrs. Wright. Thank you for bringing Andrew this morning. He's such a big help." "Don't mention it, Father. Alan and I are delighted to have Andrew helping. And Andrew loves doing it, too. Don't you, baby?" Andrew nodded bashfully. "Yes, ma'am." "Work hard for the Father, now, you hear." "Yes, ma'am." "Call me when you're done. I'll come get you. Your dad is going to be busy at the store all day." "Yes, ma'am." Andrew climbed out of the car, waved at his mother, and closed the door. As she drove away, he looked around. "Where's Father Murphy and the other boys?" "There's no one else, today," Downing explained. "You and I are the entire work crew!" "Really? What are we gonna do?" "Just a bit of polishing. A nice coat of wax on all the woodwork in the sanctuary. Think you can manage that, big guy?" Father Downing had a friendly smile on his face. He seemed more relaxed and open, probably because they weren't in school. He was a nice man, even as a teacher, but he seemed more cheerful at the moment. Andrew grinned and nodded. "I can try, but I don't know what to do. You'll hafta show me." Downing put his arm across Andrew's shoulders and pulled him into a sideways hug. Squeezing Andrew's shoulder, Downing said, "I'm certain you'll pick it up quickly. You're one of the smartest boys I've ever had the pleasure to teach." Andrew squirmed with pleasure, enjoying both the praise and the hug. His dad never hugged him like this. Downing's hand was so strong and warm where he held Andrew's shoulder, and the weight of Downing's arm across Andrew's neck was comforting and, in a strange way, exciting too. Andrew stole a peek up at Father Downing. Downing was watching him, his soft, brown eyes gazing at Andrew with warmth and affection. Downing led Andrew into the building, stopping at a wooden bench in the hallway outside the sanctuary. On the seat of the bench were stacks of soft cloths and a two bottles of furniture polish. Downing poured just a bit of polish onto a cloth and rubbed the bench arms and back. Another small dab of polish, and he wiped the seat next. "Just like that, Andrew. Simple enough, isn't it?" "Yes, sir." Andrew replied, taking the cloth and polish from Downing. "Andrew, you don't have to call me sir. Not here, anyway. In the classroom or at church services is a different matter, but when we're working together like this, you can call me Stephen. That's my given name, you know." Andrew's eyes grew wide and he shook his head. "I couldn't do that. My momma and daddy would skin me if they heard me callin' you Stephen. They'd say I was bein' disrespectful, and they'd be right." Downing knelt down and placed his hand on Andrew's elbow, squeezing playfully. "Then we'd best not let them hear you. But as long as no one else is around, and it's just the two of us, I would like you to call me Stephen. Okay?" Andrew wasn't sure he should, but it was thrilling in a forbidden way to call your teacher by his first name. How many other kids even knew Father Downing was actually Stephen? Andrew felt special. Like he was in a club no other kids could join. The I'm-good-friends-with-Father-Downing Club. He grinned and said, "Okay, where do ya' wanna start ... Stephen!" Downing smiled, stood up, and patted Andrew on the shoulder. "You take the south side of the sanctuary. I'll start over there. Then we'll work on the altar and choir box together." "Yes, sir, Stephen, sir!" Andrew replied, giving a snappy salute. Downing laughed and poked Andrew in the ribs. Andrew giggled. He was going to enjoy helping his new friend, Stephen. *** Andrew was especially quiet at supper that night. Dayna noticed and tried to draw him out. "Don't you like your chicken, Andrew?" "Huh?" Andrew looked up from his plate, surprised by her question. "Oh, yes, ma'am. It's real good." Alan grunted at the poor grammar. "Not `real good', Andrew. It's very good, or it's delicious." "Yes, sir. It's delicious, Momma." "Thank you, baby." She sipped her drink. "I hope you're not coming down with something." Alan dropped his fork in exasperation. "Leave the boy alone, Dayna. Andrew, quit picking at your food and eat." "Yes, sir." Andrew ate a large bite of mashed potatoes, then a big chuck of bread. The rest of the meal was uncomfortably silent, which was just fine with Andrew. He had a lot to think about. First of all, there was the real nice feeling--or as his father would say `the very good feeling'--that Andrew got when he thought about what it had been like to work alongside Father Downing all day. Or, should he say Stephen? His new friend, Stephen. They had laughed and talked as they worked, making the polishing go so quickly that it was soon over and they could then sit in a pew at the front of the church and chat. Stephen had asked Andrew all about his family, how he liked school at the Academy, and what he enjoyed doing. Stephen had seemed to take a genuine interest in Andrew's life, making Andrew feel he was important. Not just that invisible 12-year-old boy no one really wanted to hang out with. Not the son of Alan and Dayna Wright, the good little servant who always had to sit up straight during church services. Not the kid who was always getting invited to go swimming with Dallas but never could because he had to go with his parents somewhere and listen to boring adults talk. To Stephen, he was Andrew Gabriel, a funny and silly boy who was smart and special and adorable. Adorable. That was another reason Andrew was so quiet at supper. As he and Stephen had talked, Stephen had placed his arm over Andrew's shoulders and pulled him into a hug. Then Stephen had said, "You are so funny, Andrew. And adorable. You have beautiful eyes, you know." Andrew had been embarrassed by that comment. Sure, everyone told him the same thing all the time. They liked his eyes and their bright blue color. People were always saying how handsome he was and how gorgeous his eyes were. He was kind of sick of hearing it all the time, to be honest. But the way Stephen said it wasn't quite the same. He had smiled in a dreamy sort of way and almost whispered it, soft and gentle. "You have beautiful eyes, you know." And he had massaged Andrew's shoulder while he said it. Andrew hadn't known quite how to respond. He'd felt a little nervous then. Everything up until that moment had been wonderful. He and Stephen were friends. Stephen wanted to know all about him and his life. Stephen thought he was funny and smart and a hard worker. But Stephen also thought he was adorable and had beautiful eyes. It just didn't seem right to Andrew. But that wasn't the thing that bothered him the most. What was most upsetting of all was the weird way his tummy had started fluttering. He couldn't explain it. He'd never felt that way before, not ever. It wasn't the same as the feeling he got when he was sick and needed to barf. Nah, it was something entirely different. It was excitement and nerves and lots of other feelings all mixed up together. It made him want to lean back against Stephen's warm side for more hugs. Hugging Dallas would probably be good too. Either one of them could hug him and he was sure the feeling would come back. As he thought about Stephen holding him that afternoon, his tummy jumped again. The more he thought about it, the stronger the feeling grew. Maybe his mom was right. Maybe he was coming down with something. *** Andrew tapped Dallas on the shoulder. Dallas pulled a notebook out of his locker as he turned around. "Oh, hey, Drew." "Hi, Dallas. Did y'all have that swimmin' party you was talkin' about?" Dallas nodded. "Yeah. On Saturday. A bunch of eighth graders screaming and stuffing their faces and having a great time. The `rents hated it!" Andrew sighed. "Sorry I missed it. You, ummm, you plannin' to do it again some time?" Shaking his head, Dallas said, "Nah. Dad wants to drain the pool and cover it. He said it's getting too late in the year and it's about time to shut her down." "Oh." Andrew stared at his shoes. "That's too bad." Dallas felt sorry for Andrew, but what could he do? It wasn't his fault Andrew never came over. He'd invited the kid lots of times. Then he remembered something his dad had said. "Hey, Drew, we're keeping the hot tub going. Dad figures we can use it even when it starts getting cold. Maybe you could come over and try it out." Andrew looked up, eyes filled with hope. "Dude! That would be so great!" Dallas smiled. "Hey, then, that's what we'll do. Ask your `rents and let me know, okay?" "Sure thing. Thanks!" Andrew headed down the hall, a bright smile lighting up his face. Dallas smirked. Sure was easy to make the kid happy. Shoving a book into the locker, Dallas slammed the door shut. There was one thing he was wondering about. He should just ask the kid. "Oh, Drew, you working at the church this weekend?" Andrew turned around and shrugged. "Don't know. The `rents ain't said nothin' to me about it. You workin'?" "Yeah. They asked me to come in." Dallas smiled. That was good. If Andrew wasn't around, he'd have Stephen all to himself. "Well, catch you later, Drew." "Later, dude." Andrew waved and walked away, happier than he'd been in a long, long time. He was going to get to use a hot tub! With his friend Dallas!! Sweet! Dallas watched Andrew walk off. The kid was skinny and short, just like all the other sixth graders, but his butt was kind of cute. Maybe it would be fun if Stephen had both of them doing "stuff" at the same time one day. *** Father Stephen Downing had something entirely different planned for Andrew Gabriel Wright. Andrew was that special young man who came along so rarely and required the most delicate of handling. He was a boy in appearance. Small. Thin arms and spindly legs. A body without muscles yet. Skin smooth and unblemished. Cheeks untouched by peach fuzz. Yet he was becoming a man in the one place that mattered the most. His pants bulged with early growth, having had puberty thrust upon him unexpectedly. No matter how he tried to hide it, the bulging was constantly apparent. And when he popped an unexpected erection, that bane of teenage boys, there was no disguising that Andrew was an early developer, far ahead of his peers. It was obvious, not just in the front of his jeans, but also in the clumsy body and bewildered eyes. Those brilliant blue eyes that were so entrancing and beguiling, and now so endearing as they sought someone who could understand the confusion Andrew felt. Stephen Downing understood. He loved all boys, but especially boys like Andrew. Boys who were misunderstood by parents who never took the time to love them as they should be loved. Boys who wanted to be heard and cherished. Boys who loved to be held and tickled and squeezed and adored. Boys who, for a brief moment in time, were curious about the bizarre changes their young bodies were experiencing and who were willing to allow a kind and experienced adult like himself to initiate them into the mysteries of becoming a man. Yes, Andrew required delicate treatment. Going too fast would frighten him off, hurt him, or scar him for life. Andrew wasn't ready for the rambunctious fun enjoyed by Dallas, that red-headed ruffian who had been Father Stephen's special friend for the last two years. Dallas, like Andrew, had been an early developer. He had welcomed Stephen's advances and was now highly experienced in the games men and boys could enjoy together. In time, with careful handling, Andrew would be too. But not just yet. One step at a time. Slowly, savoring each moment, like a fine wine. The wine of youth. *** Brent Williams was in a bad mood again, and nothing would break him out of it. The other boys had tried. They'd begged Brent for a dirty joke at the lunch table. He'd grunted and ignored them, eating in silence. They'd pestered him after lunch when they were all hanging out behind the gym. He was always good for a story about boners and pussies. Except today. Today he wanted to throw pebbles at the building. One kid asked him about his brother Alex. What kind of sexy stuff was Alex getting into at Palo Duro High School? Brent glared when he heard that question, threw a pebble as hard as he could over the boy's head, then turned and stomped off. What was eating him? None of the guys knew, but they sure hoped Brent would cut it out and get back to normal soon. As Brent left the others behind, he became angrier with every step. He didn't want to talk about stupid Alex and especially about the sexy stuff Alex was doing. It had been so great having Alex teaching him about girls and all the shit you could do to a girl. Why did Alex have to screw it up with that ... that other stuff? And what would the guys think if they ever found out about what Alex had made him do? Brent kicked a bush as hard as he could. He never wanted to talk about sex stuff ever again. FUCK! *** "Good morning, Andrew," Dayna said with a lilt in her voice. "Time to get up and have breakfast. You're working at the church this morning." Andrew sat up, suddenly awake. It was Saturday! Stephen--Father Downing, he had to remember not to call him Stephen in front of his parents or anyone else--had asked him to help tidy up the attic. Just him. No one else. After that first time working together, Stephen always asked to work with Dallas or Andrew alone. Dallas one weekend. Andrew the next. Andrew wondered why they didn't work together anymore. Had he done something wrong? Had Dallas? Andrew climbed out of bed and hurriedly dressed, then rushed into the kitchen where his mom was putting a plate of waffles on the table. Yum! His second favorite breakfast!! He scarfed them down, earning a withering stare from his dad and another waffle from his mom. He ate it too, drank half a glass of milk in one long gulp, then announced he was ready to go. "Have you fed King?" Dayna asked. "Oops. Not yet." Andrew jumped up and opened the cabinet where they kept the dog food. He filled King's dish and refilled the water bowl too. Dayna smiled. "Good job, baby. Now drink the rest of your milk, then brush your teeth. Your dad is taking you, so you have a few more minutes." Andrew did as he was asked, then sat on the couch beside King, scratching the big Rottie's neck. Andrew's legs were jumping with nervous energy while he waited for his dad to gather up his keys and a newspaper before heading out to the garage. Andrew leapt to his feet and dashed out, shouting, "Bye, King! Bye, Momma!" "Bye, baby," Dayna shouted. She turned and said, "Remember to--" But Andrew was already shutting the door to the garage behind him. "I guess someone's excited," she chuckled, turning back to finish cleaning the dishes. King wandered into the kitchen and sat next to her. She glanced down at the dog's deep brown eyes and giggled. "Looks like we've been abandoned." For Andrew, the drive to the church seemed to take forever. Andrew tried to keep his excitement in check, but it was hard to keep still. At one point, Alan snarled, "Settle down, boy." Andrew took a deep breath and squeezed his hands together in his lap. If he squeezed hard enough, he hoped he might stop shaking. Why was he so excited, anyway? It was just working at the church. With Stephen. His friend. When they finally pulled up in front of the church, Andrew bounded out of the car and ran up the sidewalk. Father Downing--Stephen--was waiting at the front door. Andrew rushed up and hugged Stephen hard around the waist, knocking the air out of the man. Downing laughed and hugged Andrew back, though not as enthusiastically. Then he waved at Alan Wright, shouting, "Thank you again for allowing Andrew to help today!" Alan waved from the car, driving off and already focusing on the new lines of furniture he was considering for the store. Andrew released Downing and turned to wave goodbye to his dad, but his dad never looked back. Andrew's hand dropped to his side. His smile disappeared. "Bye, Daddy," he whispered. Downing stepped forward and wrapped Andrew in his arms. He gently hugged the boy from behind and rocked him slowly from side to side. Andrew's smile gradually returned. It felt so marvelous having Stephen hold him like this. His stomach was beginning to have those funny, excitable feelings again. He leaned back against Stephen, closed his eyes, and sighed. *** Father Downing and Andrew were sitting on a bench, waiting for Dayna when she pulled up to the curb in front of the church. They stood up and began walking toward the car. Andrew suddenly turned and wrapped his arms around Downing, squeezing hard. Downing smiled and gently rubbed Andrew's back as he returned the hug. Dayna frowned. It seemed a bit odd to her. Andrew released Downing and stepped back, waving as he turned to climb in the car. Dayna waved at Downing while Andrew buckled up, then pulled out into the street. "Did you have a good time, baby?" she asked. Andrew blushed and looked down at his lap. Also odd. But then he nodded and said, "Yes, ma'am." "What did you do?" "Cleaned up the attic and organized the costumes. Then we bagged up some costumes that are needin' to be sewed up. And we--" He stopped, blushing again. "You what?" she asked, prompting him to finish whatever he was going to say. He shrugged. "Nothin' else really. Ste--" He paused and started again. "Father Downing said I have a good voice. He had me sing a few songs and taught me how to control my breathin' better when I sing. I like singin'." He didn't mention it, but he also liked having Stephen push gently on his stomach while he sang, teaching him all about how to breathe correctly. Dayna cocked an eyebrow. "Really? Do you want to join the choir?" "Yeah, I really do!" Dayna glanced at Andrew. "I think you meant to say, `Yes, I do.'" Andrew grimaced. "Yes, ma'am." An awkward silence settled between them. She decided to change the subject. "You seem to enjoy working with Father Downing." "Yes, ma'am. He's real nice." She almost corrected Andrew again. Instead, she said, "You gave him a big hug when you were leaving..." She left her comment hanging in the air, hoping Andrew would respond. He blushed once more, looking out the window. Fine. She'd just say what she was thinking. "I thought you were working for him, but it looks like you've become close buddies." Andrew turned quickly, shaking his head. "It ain't like that, Momma. He's just real good to me and he listens when I tell him stuff and he talks like he's interested in me and what I like to do. That's all it is." "Hmmm. Okay, Andrew." Andrew turned and stared out the window again, suddenly quiet. Dayna was surprised by Andrew's behavior and his outburst. What was THAT all about? And why did he hug Father Downing like that? Certainly the boy didn't get much affection from his own father. Perhaps Father Downing was filling Andrew's need for a male role model. She sighed, wishing Alan would try harder to show Andrew how much he loved him. She knew Alan loved the boy, but Alan had always had a difficult time showing affection. She might have to say something to Alan tonight. Whether or not he'd listen was another matter. *** That night, Andrew curled up on his side covered by a sheet, with King snoring softly in the floor next to his bed. He couldn't sleep. There was so much he needed to think about. The day he'd spent with Stephen. The fun they'd enjoyed talking and laughing while sorting the costumes in the attic. The moment when Stephen had surprised him, grabbing him in a tight hug and tickling him. The feeling of Stephen kissing him on the back of his neck. The embarrassment he felt until Stephen apologized for getting carried away. The warm feeling that filled his body when Stephen told him that he couldn't help it because he thought Andrew was so very cute and funny and adorable. Adorable. Again. Why did Stephen keep saying that? Guys weren't supposed to think other guys were adorable. That was what homosexual men did, and they were an abomination, according to his father. "Am I an abomination?" Andrew whispered. "Why do I feel this way? Why does it make my tummy jump when Stephen hugs me? Why do I want Dallas to hug me the same way?" His cock was beginning to get hard. He pressed his hand against it, pushing it down, silently begging it to stop swelling. But it wouldn't listen. It pushed back against his hand, demanding that he rub it all over. He whimpered and slipped his hand inside his underwear, grabbing his cock and pulling the skin up and down. His cock throbbed and began leaking just a little. He rubbed the slippery drop in a circle, loving the way it made the end of his cock tingle. The tingling reminded him how he felt that afternoon. It was during that moment up in the attic when he handed a pile of robes to Stephen and Stephen's hand brushed against his crotch for just a second. It wasn't for very long, but in that moment, the back of Stephen's hand had bumped into Andrew's boner. Andrew had felt tingles then too, and he'd been mortified. He hadn't been trying to get hard; it just happened like it sometimes would, without him even trying. He'd thought he'd been doing a good job hiding it, until Stephen had taken the pile of clothing out of his hands and brushed against the hard rod tenting out the front of his pants. He couldn't be sure whether Stephen even noticed. Stephen hadn't said a word, but had carried the clothes to a shelf and stacked them there. Andrew had pretended nothing had happened, though he'd felt like melting through a crack in the floor. Why now? Why couldn't his cock behave its fucking self? And then he'd instantly felt twice as bad, because of the horrible curse word. "Great," he'd whispered, "Another bad word to confess." But that was nothing compared to popping a boner and poking it into the back of a priest's hand and feeling it tingle. As Andrew lay in bed that night, he moaned and squeezed his eyes shut as he rubbed his hard cock beneath the sheet. He was a real mess. An abomination, even. Because the truth was he liked jacking off. He loved the tingles and the squirting, a lot. He liked thinking about Brent Williams and the girls Brent wanted to fuck. And about Dallas Anderson and his red hair and freckles and nice smile. Would Dallas have red hair around his cock? How big was Dallas' cock? He was two years older, so his might be huge! If Dallas hugged him, would he feel tingly inside? Like he did with Stephen? Did Stephen notice Andrew's boner? Did he feel it against his hand? Would Stephen touch his boner again, only this time holding it and rubbing it and making it-- Andrew gasped and squirted. All over his hand. "Fuck!" he whispered. He rolled his eyes. That's twice he'd said the f-word. Twice he'd have to admit it during confession. He pulled his underwear up, tossed the sheet aside and walked to his desk, his dripping boner leaking the entire way. He found tissues, wiped off, and cleaned up his shorts as best he could. "My underwear's a mess. My life's a mess. I'm a mess." And probably an abomination. *** A few blocks away, Brent shivered beneath his sheets and blanket. Alex was back from his date. Brent had heard his older brother come in, using the flashlight on his cell phone to see. Alex had been quiet enough, but Brent had still heard him come in. Heard him kick off his shoes. Heard him pull his shirt over his head, unsnap and unzip his jeans, sliding them down and kicking them off. Brent heard it all but pretended to be asleep, with his face turned to the wall. His shivering gave him away, making it clear he wasn't asleep. He tried to stop, but he couldn't. Not that it mattered. He heard Alex chuckle. He heard the chuckling get louder and closer. He felt the blankets and sheets pull off his shoulder, exposing his naked back and boxer-clad rear. A hand touched his butt, stroking him gently. Alex chuckled again. "As soft as Debbie's. It'll have to do until she puts out ..." Fingers slid underneath the waistband on Brent's boxers, pushing them down over the curve of his butt. Brent shivered even harder. The end of MISUNDERSTOOD, Chapter Two