Date: Sun, 25 Apr 2010 17:33:41 -0400
From: hardreader2000@aol.com
Subject: Jess' Story, Chapter 1

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is the third book in the "I Thought I Knew" series. It
is the story of Jess, a real college student from Chicago. Jess has made
some decisions in his life that he now fears may create problems for him in
the future. As he begins to grapple with his fears, he is still working out
issues involving his own sexuality, his honesty and his very identity.

It is not necessary to have read either of the first two books to enjoy
this final book in the series. You'll learn all you need to know about Jess
and his friends as the story unfolds. If you decide you want to start at
the very beginning of Jess' adventure with Billy and Justin, you can go to
/nifty/gay/highschool/i-thought-i-knew/ .

As with the previous books in this series, the point of view will change
from chapter to chapter enabling you to see what is going on inside the
minds of various characters. Keep in mind that the story is true and
accurate. It is based on interviews, comments and writing by the people
involved. My job in all of this is to pull all their input together to
create a single story.

That enough from me. It's time to let Jess speak at last.-- H.R.
Jess' Story
Chapter 1
From Jess' viewpoint

Suddenly I was awake. I went from a deep sleep to wide awake in an instant.
The effect was like one of those awful amusement park rides that drop you
from on high into a near free-fall and then jerks you back. Like bungee
jumping.

Awakening from this dream was like that. Only worse.

I was tangled in my sheets. Naked. Sweating
profusely. Terrified. Confused. Embarrassed. Bewildered. And so much more
all at the same time. I was overflowing with emotions that I couldn't
understand or even name. And it all went back to a dream. A dream I've had
too many times in the past year. A dream I have come to dread.

The dream doesn't ever change much. It always starts with me sitting in my
parents' living room talking to my mother about nothing in particular. It
wouldn't be unusual at all except that I am completely naked. And I'm
hard. Raging hard! The kind of aching hard-on guys love to have. In the
dream I am slowly stroking my cock. In full view of my mother who seems not
to notice.

Then, as can happen in dreams, my mother is walking into the room. Carrying
a handful of loose papers. Like computer printer paper. I'm still hard and
still jerking off and she's still not noticing.

She stops and looks down at the pages in her hand and then looks back up at
me. I can see the pain in her face. The hurt. Maybe a hint of anger, too.

"I know," is all she says. It's all I need to hear to understand what is
causing her to look at me that way. Disgust. Contempt. Hatred. Yes, I think
I could see hatred in her eyes. She knew.

That's when I suddenly wake up from this nightmare each time. Awake with
the awful knowledge that my mother knows not only that I have had sex with
girls, but with boys, too! She not only knows that I have had sex with
both, she knows it in such detail that she might as well have been in the
room as I did . . . as I did all the sexual things most guys could ever
think or dream of doing. All those things I did with such abandon. Such
joy. Not in some dream, but in real life. My life.

I never should have shared all that stuff about myself and my friends
online. I should never have gotten involved with Justin and Billy's
"project". I should never have let H.R. write "I Thought I Knew."

If my mom has really read my story, and I am certain in my dream that she
has, it's as if she's seen me masturbating. Sucking. Fucking. She's seen me
covered in cum. My cum. Their cum. She's seen me lick it. Swallow
it. Wallow in it.

She's finally found out about me and Billy and Justin and all the rest.
She's read "I Thought I Knew" and any connection I have ever had with her
is broken. Shattered. Destroyed beyond repair.

Awake. I am awake. But the fear and the nausea of the moment are real. The
fear. The self-loathing. The helplessness. They are all real. I know it is
a dream. I know the feelings will pass in the hours ahead.

But I also know somewhere deep down inside me that someday my mom may
really learn about my story. That she may really know that I fucked my best
friends, my cousin, my step-cousin. That I'm . . .

What am I? Still shaking off sleep. Still coping with the emotions of my
nightmare. It is hard to even think about who and what I am. How I got
where I am. How I am ever going to move forward.

Some of you already know my story. I'm Jess. The same Jess you may have
read about in "I Thought I Knew." I guess it is the story of how my best
friend Billy and a friend named Justin and I tried to figure out what being
gay is all about. What we wanted in life. How we could go about finding
what we wanted.

The way our friend H.R. wrote it made it . . . Well, more than anything I
guess it made our story real. So that lots of guys related to us. I got
lots of mail from guys asking for advice. Giving advice. Wanting to meet
me. Wanting to suck me off. Wanting to fuck me. Wanting me to fuck them.

Yeah, the other thing H.R. did was to make our story really erotic. He made
it into the story of our lives. But also into porn. Great porn! But porn
just the same.

I guess I was completely OK with what he wrote when we were working on the
project. Hell, everything he wrote was true, with a few innocent changes to
protect our identities. I can't say it didn't happen the way he wrote
it. The way we told him we thought it happened. Remembered it happened.

My only worry then was that someone someday might figure out who we really
are. But that seemed unlikely. I didn't really worry about it too much back
then.

So you understand, Billy and Justin and I. . . and H.R. too, I guess
. . . set out to share more than the story about our learning to jerk-off,
suck, fuck, whatever. We thought we had a story worth sharing. A story guys
would like to read and might learn something from. That was our idea of it.

Lots of guys, I mean really lots of guys, have written to tell us how much
it helped them in their journey through discovering and untangling their
own sexuality. I still have a few cyber friends I stay in touch with who I
first met through our story. Of course, a lot more guys wrote to tell us
how many times they came reading about us.

Plenty of good has come from telling our story, just the way H.R. said it
would. But almost two years after we finished telling our story, the
experience of exposing myself that way on the Internet is haunting me as I
had never expected.

It has made me worry about something I would never have had to worry
about. Should I tell my friends about it? Or should I keep it a secret? A
secret I can never tell anyone I know or care about.

I never have told anyone I have really known that I am Jess from "I Thought
I Knew". I can't imagine how they'd react. Sure I know there are thousands
of guys out there posting pictures of themselves and their friends jerking
off and sucking and fucking everyday. It's not such a big deal.

But deep inside I worry what people will think if they know about me and my
story. It's something I wonder if I ever will share. If someday I find the
perfect girl or guy . . . will I be able to tell them? Will I lose them if
I do? Will I go crazy keeping my secret if I don't?

For a guy who begged his two best friends to fuck him and then shared every
detail of what happened, how I felt, what I thought, what I wanted and
needed . . . For a guy who could share all that, you're probably thinking,
how hard could it be to tell a friend or a lover what he had done?

But you've got to remember that when I first shared my story, my identity
was concealed. You could read a passage like:

"My cock was still rock hard. Streaked with cum and red from all the action
it had just gotten. My cockhead was still dripping a little bit of cum. A
strand of it hung from the tip and was pooling down just above my navel.

"I'd never fucked a guy before and my mind was racing with images of what
had just happened. What I'd just done. I'd actually fucked my cousin.
Sam. Little Sam. I'd shoved my big old cock up his tight ass. Rammed it in
an out. And cum deep inside him. So hot! Thinking about it made my dick
twitch from time to time and made a little more cum flow. I felt a little
chilled, but Sam reached over and put a hand on my thigh. It seemed to warm
my whole body."

My identity was concealed but everything else was out in the open. It was
all so graphically described by H.R. A lot of what he wrote was more
graphic than . . . more graphic than what it felt like when we actually
were doing it. You know, fucking, sucking, jerking each other off. His
writing style let guys look inside my head at what I was thinking and
feeling in the most intimate ways. He does that really well.

But I was always just a guy named Jess from Chicago. A guy you didn't
really know, even though a lot of you thought you did. You can look long
and hard through every detail of that story and you'll never figure out who
I am.

I felt secure in that anonymity for a long time. Sure, I liked knowing that
guys got hard and hot and horny reading my story. And I loved it every time
someone wrote to tell me how much it had helped them, even if I never
understood how.

Then the dreams started and I had to wonder how much longer I could keep
this secret locked inside of me.

How many more nights could I awake having faced my own mother's hatred?
Maybe, almost certainly, I would never tell my mom. But each time I awoke
bathed in sweat and overwhelmed by fear, I knew I would have to tell
someone. I had to start finding my way forward.

This was who I was. It's part of who I am. I was the star of a major porn
story. Thousands of guys have read about me. They know how I jerk off. Know
how I eat my own cum. Know I lusted after my best friend and his
boyfriend. They know as much about my cock and what I did with it as I
do. Maybe more.

And after they read about us each week, they wrote things like:

"Yes i am cumming huge!!!! Cant wait for next part!!!"

"If my vision weren't so blurry (It's HARD reading with your head thrown
back this far!), and my other hand weren't so "busy", I'd type something!"

"I've gotta say that this story is really cumtastic. It's really hard
holding it in."

"More and more cum is building up with each part!!"

"These boys are doing all their thinking with their dicks. But, it keeps
the cum cumming."

How could I share that with my friends? Friends who think that I'm just a
quirky college sophomore who really enjoys sex. Who can't figure out if he
wants to major in business or English. Who can't figure out if he likes
boys or girls.

How can I share the secret part of my life with someone I know
face-to-face? That's what I've gotta figure out. Before it drives me crazy.

To Be Continued . . .

The characters in this project are real. The names and some other
identifying information in this story have been changed to conceal the
identities of the characters described. The Copyright for this story is
held by Hardreader. The story may not be reprinted or distributed elsewhere
in print, electronically or digitally without the permission of the
author. I would love to receive comments on this story from readers.  Email
me at hardreader2000@aol.com

While you're waiting for the next episode, I hope you'll stay happy. And
stay hard! -- H.R.