Date: Sat, 22 Jul 2006 04:27:48 +0000
From: carl_holiday@att.net
Subject: Kiel's Story Chapter 8

This story concerns teenage gay males who may be involved in sexual
situations. If it is illegal for you to read such stories, or if you do
not like to read such stories, please leave now.

This story is copyright 2006 by the author who retains all rights.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either
are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any
resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

This is my first submission to Nifty. Any comments or questions are
welcome at: carl_holiday@att.net

A warm thank you goes out to all who've written. I appreciate knowing
someone is actually reading this stuff.


Kiel's Story

by Carl Holiday

Chapter 8 -- As a Lamb to Slaughter

"I want to do it with you."

     Those words hung in my ear like the creepy music in a horror flick.
They made shivers go up my spine, a nauseous feeling to turn my stomach,
disgusting thoughts to trouble my mind. Why? Well, because they came out
of the mouth of the last person I might have expected to come up with
such a request.

     After church on Sunday I was not in the mood for much of anything.
Seeing Mark on that stretcher and knowing there were people in my high
school capable and willing to do what they did to Mark was a little
beyond my understanding. The Sunday papers ran some interesting articles
on the incident. There wasn't a lot of detail other than Coach Jorgenson
and the football team's backfield did a pretty good job of nearly
killing Mark. There was no mention of the broom handle, where Mark was
bleeding, or that he'd been beaten up because he sat with a suspected
homo. I knew that was the real reason.

     I'd known for nearly a year I was on the suspect list at school. I
was not athletic. I was already in the running for valedictorian of the
class. I was sensitive. And, I'd been in the hospital, the psych ward of
all places. Nobody went there unless they were crazy or homosexual; and,
everybody knew crazy people weren't allowed to go to public high school.
And, I'd been friends with Stevie and we sat at the Fairy Table in our
freshman year.

     Tim was underdeveloped and he played tennis, which everyone knows is
a queer sport. It didn't help that he'd also been friends with Stevie,
but being Stevie's tennis partner was his most damning evidence. And,
now, this year, he was sitting at the Fairy Table, sometimes next to me.
The whisper circuit at school hadn't decided, but I knew it was only a
matter of time before Tim was going to find his name on the list, too.

     Kiel was an unknown. Last year, he'd attended Roosevelt High School
down in Seattle, a school known for its snobs and queers. He'd played
basketball on the freshman team and had a good reputation as an overall
athlete, but it was no secret that his former friend, his boyfriend to
those who knew, had been on the suspect list at Roosevelt. And, yet, Kiel
didn't fit any of the stereotypes, so the rumor mill didn't know what
to do with him. Living next door to me wasn't a plus or a minus, yet.

     So, of course, people were jumping to conclusions over Mark because
of his supposed friendship with me. Then his outstanding performance at
the Ballard game changed everything. Suddenly, he was a potential
football hero. North Park didn't have too many of those considering our
usual record was 0-12 or, on extraordinary years, 5-7. We hadn't had a
winning season since 1938 and now we'd beaten Ballard, the league's
traditional powerhouse, and Mark played a significant role in the game,
enough of a role to get written up in the Saturday morning papers.

     But, to be beaten up and have a broom handle shoved up where broom
handles didn't belong by his teammates at his coach's home was
something I couldn't understand. Mother wasn't any help. I tried to ask
her about what happened, but all she said was that football players and
their coaches were a strange breed and it was best I didn't associate
with animals like that. The pastor at church gave a short prayer for
Mark's quick recovery, but he also prayed that the situation with Coach
Jorgenson and Mark's teammates being in jail be resolved with due haste.
It seems people couldn't believe North Park's finest were capable to
nearly killing a football hero.

     I wasn't in a good mood, so there wasn't much else to do except go
out and make myself miserable throwing the basketball at the backboard;
and, I was pathetic, too. On any bad day I could expect to make at least
two or three shots in an hour, but I was making about every other one
when Kiel walked up and took a rebound.

     "I told you before, keep practicing and you'll get good at this,"
he said. He spun around, jumped, released the ball, and SWISH! It was
unnatural the way he did that. Creepy.

     "I was trying to make myself feel bad about what happened to
Mark."

     "Tim will be over in a couple minutes with Monica," Kiel said,
slipping up close and giving me a quick peck on the lips. "She has some
flowers and wants to take them to Mark. We've got time for a quick one,
if you want to come with me into our garage."

     "A quick what?"

     "Whatever you want."

     "I don't want anything, right now."

     "Suit yourself, but my cock is starting to like the feel of your
ass."

     "God, Kiel, is that all you can think of?"

     "What's the matter? I thought you wanted me to fuck you."

     "Well, yeah, but not today."

     "Come on, it'll take only a minute," Kiel said, grabbing my arm
just above the elbow. He squeezed hard enough to make me cringe. I'd
seen that look in the psych ward, the glazed over eyes, taut muscles
around the lips, a slight tremor at the corner of an eyelid.

     "No!"

     "Don't be an ass, come on."

     He pulled me to their garage. What the fuck was he doing? This
wasn't Kiel. This was some person I didn't know. I could see his
erection in his jeans. There was nothing I could do. He was too strong.
Tim pulled into the driveway and lightly honked his horn.

     "Shit!" Kiel whispered. He looked at me with anger spread across
his face. "One word about this, one word and you're dead. Do you
understand?"

     "No, I don't understand. What's gotten into you?"

     "Nothing you'd understand. Come on, our friends are waiting."

------------

I do not like hospitals. I especially do not like King County General.
There are people in that hospital who know me. There is a male nurse up
on the eighteenth floor, the psych ward, who likes the feel of a tight
teenage ass around his cock and doesn't mind spilling a little blood to
get that feeling. There's an orderly on twelve who likes the feel of
young teenage lips around his cock and knows how to hurt you if you
don't want to cooperate. In fact, if it hadn't been for Dawling giving
me a few good pointers on pleasuring perverts, I might have been
conveniently killed, or worse, for all the attention I was receiving from
the staff at the hospital during my two stays in that wonderful
institution.

     Mark was in a private room on the fourteenth floor, something you
don't often find in that place. Of course, he was the victim of a crime,
the kind of crime you don't want to talk to others about, especially
other pediatric patients who might wonder. You can almost see their
parents trying to explain why a boy had been raped with a broom handle.
Mark looked like he'd been beaten with a broom handle, but he was awake
and in a good mood, probably due to the drugs they were giving him.
Nothing like a shot of Demerol to pick you up.

     Mark's parents were there, but they stepped out when Monica
appeared with the flowers. I guess they didn't want to interfere with
young love. Kiel, Tim, and I followed her in and we stayed in the
background letting Monica do whatever it is that girls do when their
boyfriends are in the hospital hurting in places where you're not
supposed to hurt. What does a girl say? "I hope your asshole feels
better, honey." "Does it hurt bad when you take a shit?" What can
anyone say?

     The only good thing I could tell about Mark's room was the view of
Elliott Bay, a million dollar view. A hell of a view to pay for with a
broom handle up your ass. I watched the boats in the harbor, the ferries
going to Bainbridge Island and Bremerton, seagulls flying wherever
seagulls fly. I felt a hand on my ass. I didn't want to look. If it was
Tim, well, that might be okay, but I knew it was Kiel.

     "I hope I can wait `til we get home," he whispered in my ear.
"If this takes too long, we might have to find a broom closet."

     "What the hell's with you?" I said loud enough for Mark and
Monica to look at us. I tried to step away from Kiel, but he stayed close
seeming to move with me.

     "Hey, you two, none of that shit in this room," Mark said. "I've
had about as much grab ass as I want."

     "Are you okay?" Tim asked. "I mean, well, you know."

     "It hurts like hell and I have stitches where you don't what to
have stitches. Okay?"

     "Yeah, okay," Tim said, walking to the door. "I'll be out in the
waiting room."

     "I'll come with you," Kiel said. "There's nothing in here for
me."

     "Geoff, will you wait a minute, I'd like to talk to you," Mark
said. "Thanks for the flowers, Monny. You're great, just what a foot,
an ex-football player needs."

     "You're not going to quit, are you?" Monica asked.

     "There's no point in going on, not after what happened. Come on
give me a kiss and let me talk to Geoff."

     They were cute the way their lips tried to meet without hitting any
of the stitches around Mark's mouth. And, then I was alone with Mark. I
walked over to his bed, wondering what he had to say, dreading what he
might say. The last thing I needed to hear was that he hated me because
of what happened and was going to tear my balls off when he was better.

     "They didn't just use a broom handle," Mark said, staring at me,
but not my face, lower down. "They all, including Coach, raped me. They
were drinking and I was tied face down to a table. They'd already beaten
me practically senseless. My pants were down and they kept doing it. I
can't remember how many times. I must have passed out. You can't
imagine the pain."

     "Actually, I kind of know that pain," I said. He looked at me as
if I'd interrupted something important, something that had to be said.

     "I'm not saying I enjoyed it."

     "I didn't enjoy it, either."

     "But, you're . . ."

     "That doesn't mean I have to enjoy being raped."

     "They said some things about you, and me."

     "I can imagine it wasn't anything nice."

     "You know, Geoff, I've always liked you. And, I, well, I don't
mind if you might be, well, you know."

     "Gay?"

     "Is that what you call it?"

     "What do you call it?"

     "Homo, queer, faggot."

     "Those aren't nice words."

     "I know. That's what they were calling me because I know you; and,
that's why I wanted to talk to you."

     He sounded nice, as if he had something good to say, something I
wanted to hear.

     "When I'm better, maybe in a couple months," Mark said, reaching
over and taking hold of my hand. His hands were muscular, but he was
being gentle. "I'd like it very much, well, this is kind of hard to say
because I don't know how you'll take it, but I want to do it with
you."

     "Do what?" As if I had to ask, but maybe he wanted me to take him
to the zoo or something just as innocent. I could hope he wasn't
thinking what I didn't want him to think.

     "I know you have sex with other guys. Stevie Carlson told me."

     "Fuck, that damn bastard's done it again. Damn it, what else did
he tell you?"

     "That you'd suck my cock if I asked you," Mark said. His hand was
still holding mine, but there wasn't any threat in his grasp. He was
simply holding my hand, like he might hold Monica's. Did he think this
meant something to me?

     "You know, I really thought he was my friend, but I'm beginning to
find out he wasn't all that great a person."

     "Yeah, well, I still want to do it with you and not just you doing
me, either. I want to do everything, well, not the fucking, but
everything else. I've been nearly killed because some assholes think
I'm like you and, well, I thought you'd help me find out for sure."

     "God, Mark, do you know what you're asking?" I asked. I took my
hand out of his. I didn't want to touch him. He'd never been appealing
to me. He was just another guy, a big muscled football guy.

     "Look, Geoff, my dad knows what happened and he said, well, he said
that I'm different now. He said Coach and the other guys must have had
good reason to do what they did. That's about as close to saying I'm
homo as he can get. He's not kicking me out or anything, but he, well,
he says we're not the same anymore."

     "God, Mark, you're not like me. You've got Monica. How can you
think we could do that, together?"

     "I just want you to think about it. That's all. I just want you to
think about doing it with me. I'm willing to do anything, except you
can't fuck me. I can't do that."

     "I can't do this, Mark. I can't."

     "I just want you to think about it. It's not like we're going to
do it today. A couple months, then if I still think it's necessary,
we'll do it. Okay? Just think about it. Okay?"

     "I'm not going to be able to think about much else."

-----------

The ride home was quiet. No one seemed interested in saying anything. Tim
missed a turn right after leaving the hospital parking garage and we were
suddenly heading downtown. I was enjoying the view, but he seemed to be
getting flustered because he kept turning corners. When we passed City
Hall for the second time, I'd had enough.

     "Hey, Tim, do you know where you're going?" I asked.

     "No, damn it. How do you get out of this?"

     "Go straight," Kiel said. "Don't make any turns until I tell
you."

     "You sure?"

     "Yes."

     After a few minutes we were on Aurora heading back to familiar
territory in North Park. I was kind of hungry, but I didn't want to go
anywhere with Kiel. He was acting too weird for me. Forcing me to have
sex is not a turn on; and, with Mark propositioning me, I wasn't sure I
wanted to be anywhere near Kiel for the rest of the day. It was bad
enough sitting next to him in the backseat of Tim's car.

     "Does anyone want to get a pizza?" Tim asked.

     "No." Monica, Kiel, and I almost said in unison.

     "Well, I guess I'll take all of you home."

     He went to Monica's first. She thanked him, but it was obvious Mark
was on her mind. A few minutes later, Tim drove up into our driveway. I
got out and held the door for Kiel, but when he climbed out, I sat back
down on the front seat. Kiel looked at me like I'd forgotten what he
said.

     "I need to talk to Tim about something," I said, holding the door,
ready to shut it. "Maybe I'll talk to you later."

     "Do you want pizza?" Tim asked after I shut the door.

     "Not really, a burger would be better. How about Dave's? I'll
buy."

     "Sure, that sounds great and you won't have to give me
directions."

     He headed down and across Oak Park. This was obviously another
shortcut, but it seemed to me to be the long way around Mallard Lake to
North Park College.

     "What do you want to talk about?" Tim asked.

     "I just need someone right now, someone who isn't interested in
anything else. Okay?"

     "Kiel's been bugging you to have sex, hasn't he?"

     "You guys talk a lot, don't you."

     "Almost every night before bed. Like boyfriends, I guess, except we
don't have sex unless we do it with you. You don't want to do it with
me, do you? I mean, it's okay, but I don't want to get between you and
Kiel."

     There weren't a lot of people in Dave's. It was one of three
restaurants in the little shopping district between Thornton Creek
Country Club and North Park College. As far as I was concerned, they had
the best cheeseburger in North Park. Lettuce, tomato, onion, pickles,
cheddar cheese, mustard, ketchup, and a juicy burger still sizzling from
the grill, it was enough to make any teenager want to leave home and live
outside Dave's for the rest of their life. Tim led me to a corner booth
away from the other customers.

     I was never certain what a college hangout was supposed to look
like, but Dave's probably did an honest attempt to have the atmosphere
for philosophical discussion or chitchat between lovers. Dark paneling
with pictures of North Park graduates who'd gone on to have successful
lives. The booths had dark green seats and backs. The tables were stone,
probably marble. There were small tables across the floor with planters
holding huge houseplants spaced to provide some degree of intimacy and
privacy. Voices always seemed to be hushed, making the restaurant seem
more elegant than it was, what with loud, boisterous teenagers flocking
in there for the cheeseburgers.

     The waitress brought our water and menus then seemed to disappear.
Tim looked at me from across the table. He was trying to smile. I was
trying very hard not to start crying.

     "Do you want to order to go then take them to my sister's
apartment?" Tim asked.

     "Yeah, that's probably best," I said. "Can I ask why you live
with your sister?"

     "My parents travel a lot because of my dad's business. There's
just Mrs. Albright, the housekeeper. She's nice, but I need to be around
family, even if my sister isn't home a lot. Do you want to tell me
what's going on?"

     And, so, I told him about what Kiel tried to do, including the
threat at the end. I practically had force him to secrecy, but Tim
assured me he wouldn't tell. Then I told him what Mark wanted.

     "He wants to have sex with you?" Tim asked. We'd finished our
burgers and were still working on our extra thick chocolate milkshakes.
We hadn't left after deciding to have the milkshakes, which Dave's did
not offer for take out. "But he's Monica's boyfriend. He can't do it
with you. You're not going to let him, are you?"

     "I'm hoping in two months he'll decide Monica appeals to him more
than I do, or maybe his father will decide Mark isn't gay after all. I
don't want to do it, Tim. It's bad enough having Kiel try to force
himself on me, but to do it with Mark, man that's just too much."

     "Do you need to get home, or can we go to the apartment?"

     "I can call my mother to see, but I don't see why I can't."

-----------

We didn't have sex. We were in his bed, naked, lying close to each
other, but we didn't do anything. I held Tim against me and cried myself
to sleep.

     It was nearly nine o'clock before I woke up. Tim had disentangled
himself from my embrace, but hadn't gone far. I touched his bare chest
and he opened his eyes.

     "I guess it's time to take me home," I said, tracing a finger
around his lips.

     "I called your mother and said you'd fallen asleep. She said you
don't have to come home until tomorrow morning before school. We had a
long chat about you. She's really nice, you know."

     "Yeah, I guess."

     The telephone rang, both of us knew who it was.

     "You'd better talk to him," I said. "But, please don't say
anything."

     "I won't, okay? I'm not that stupid."

     Tim shut the door, but I could hear his side of the conversation. It
didn't seem to be going too well. Tim's voice was rising. Then he said,
"Well, fuck you!"

     I went out to the living room. Tim was standing beside the telephone
stand. The receiver was in the cradle. He looked kind of cute standing
there, naked; or, at least his butt looked cute. I walked up to him and
put my hand on his shoulder. He flinched away from my touch.

     "He said he knows you told me about what happened," Tim said,
turning to me. He came in close, wrapping his arms around me, laying his
head against my shoulder. "I said I didn't know what he was talking
about and he said we weren't friends anymore. He said he was going to
get you for telling me. I told him I didn't know anything about
anything, but he wouldn't listen."

     I held him against me and the touch of his soft skin to mine did its
magic for both of us. My hands floated across his back, my fingers
caressed his innermost feelings. That night we were together free from
Kiel's threat.

     "Come on, let's go to bed," I said. Our lips met, parted slightly
allowing our tongues to entice and excite. I felt a soft hand encircle my
growing lust.

     "In a minute," Tim said as he knelt down in front of me. He took
me into his mouth drawing me deep with his tongue. His small, tender
fingers kneaded my balls, spreading my legs. My own fingers sank into his
hair holding his head as my hips began to thrust myself down into his
throat.

     As much as I wanted this moment to linger, I could not wait or hold
onto the excitement Tim was creating along the length of my throbbing
cock. I closed my eyes, allowing my mind to imagine a world with Tim's
young, naked body against mine forever. I held on, but tonight my own
fuse was cut short. The warmth came out of me without warning. I was
coming before I could utter a sound.

     Tim held me to him until I could give him no more. I wanted to
collapse down to meet his lips, but he rose up to me. As our lips joined
once more, I felt his erection press against me. Then hot come erupted
between us. My hands held his body against mine as the spasms shuddered
through him.

     "Thank you," I whispered, reluctantly breaking our kiss. I wanted
this moment to last a lifetime, but reality set in when we heard his
sister's key in the lock.