Date: Sat, 16 Feb 2002 00:08:15 -0600 From: james smith Subject: Ronnie series Chapter 10 Ronnie (Chapter 10) Disclaimer: Ok, if you have stuck with me this far, you have most likely figured out that the story is true. I am Andy, Ronnie, Mike, Nellie, my Parents - all real - names changed to protect the innocent. If you are under 18 years of age (or whatever the legal age in your area is) you must leave. If you find this material offensive, you should not be reading this story. If you choose to continue . . . you have been warned, and I trust you to make your own wise choices. Personal Note: Evan - you wrote a very kind note about the story and you and your friend seemed to really enjoy the romance and love in the story. I tried to reply but you have your email set to reject all in-bound emails from me. I hope you will write back and set it up to where I can send you a personal note - but thanks for the kind words! I welcome any and all comments to the story, or for anyone who just wants a friend to talk with. Please feel free to contact me at boyzheart@hotmail.com with any comments or suggestions. Previously . . . "Nellie, Ronnie, your mother and Wanda (my Momma) and I have talked and decided this morning how things are going to be for a while - but you have to follow our rules, or all bets are off - got it?" He waited until we each nodded in ascent, then continued. "Mike, you are going to move in to Ronnie's room at the Webster's till the end of the school term. Ronnie you are going to move into here with Andy and stay with him and help him get better and get caught up with his school work - got it?" We couldn't believe what we were hearing - and this was from Dad! We all jumped up from the bed and starting jumping up and down and hugging like a bunch of schoolgirls. "Alright," he said with a huge-assed grin on his face, "Alright, calm down you bunch of ninnies! Just you remember, we are placing a lot of confidence in you - don't let us down. The first time - mind you - that we catch you breaking these rules and we go back to the other arrangements - got it?" "Oh Yes, yes!" we all jumbled our euphoria into another round of jumping and hugging. For once small moment - everything was right in my life - perfect. Chapter 10 The next weeks became a blur. Ronnie and I set out on a course to get back up to speed with the rest of the class. Several buds from our respective classes brought around our assignments and books. Many stayed to help and also catch up on the gossip about what really happened that day in the locker room. The word on campus was that the two seniors were gay and were hitting on all the little kids that seemed alone or afraid to stand up for themselves. I had figured them for opportunist who picked up on my gay vibes and decided to take it out on Ronnie and me. But it turns out that I was not the first these two had assaulted; just the first to stand up to them. I became something of folklore at school - the only kid to put the hurt on them and live to tell it. So far as we knew it no one suspected that Ronnie and I were together as a couple. Even the taunting that periodically haunted my youth was gone. The incident seemed to have dispelled any notion that I was gay . . . for a while. Ronnie seemed to be coated in Teflon - never once was he challenged for being gay - never. I won't bore you with the details of our school recovery process. We managed to catch up. Both of us were good students and had plenty of time to work on our studies. As I had some idea that I wanted to go to college after high school, it was important to make this happen. Ronnie never seemed interested in the future - he always lived in the present. But together we got caught up and stayed with our respective classes through graduation. We kept Mike's bed in our room for appearances sake. But Ronnie always slept with me. Most nights he would go to sleep in my arms, his back to my chest, my arms around him, his head on my right arm, my left arm over him. I would run my hands over his warm smooth chest and lower regions. My left hand would often cradle his testicles and his softening dick. He was so soft there and warm. I would sometimes trace the burgeoning treasure trail and entwine my fingers in his silky pubes. They had not yet grown course, but had the same silky texture of the beautiful hair on his head. I loved to fall asleep with my face nuzzled up to his hair smelling the fragrance and reveling in the silkiness of it. I could hold him and feel him slowly drifting away into his beauty sleep. God, I loved him. Most mornings I would wake and he would be spooned behind me and I could feel his morning woodie poking my hip or in the crack of my butt. He would begin to stir and his hot member would begin gently rubbing back and forth over my skin. I could feel the pre-cum leaking as he and I swayed to his gentle rocking motions. His breathing would grow erratic and he would pull me tighter as he groaned with pleasure. Warm, wet sensations would spew over my hip or my ass and back as he erupted in orgasmic pleasure. He loved waking this way - I can't say I minded. Both of us had grown to love our lives and our routines. There was sex, at night as we get into bed and would let our kissing give way to more intimacy. And most mornings we managed to find ways to start our days off well. But mostly we loved the togetherness and tenderness. Ronnie was such a different boy at night when he held me. During the day he was bright with energy and his eyes sparkled with alertness and mischief. He was a high-energy boy - always busy, never walked anywhere. If he went across the room or across the field - it was at quick pace. That is why his room (and now ours) was always immaculate - he had to be DOING something. He would organize everything in some sort of grouping - by size, shape, color, sequence, or other such things. Everything in his (our) drawers were perfectly folded, neatly stacked and sorted. Our closet made sense - you could look in it and see perfect logic. Sometimes it would make me sick to see how organized he was - it wasn't normal :-) At play he ran circles around everybody. Coaches would call for a break and he would be working on some skill or drill - never sat down - never stopped. In class - he finished his homework before class was over in most cases - he had other plans for his evening hours besides homework. When we would watch a movie or something on TV, he always had some gadget that needed taken apart and put back together - anything but the dreaded sit-still-and-pay-attention deal. But at night, in our bed, he was a cuddle bug. He wanted me to hold him, or he held me. We learned to sleep in each other's arms. Even today I can smell him - his essence - when I close my eyes. He became so familiar to me that his body was part of my own. At night he was unquestionably mine - all mine. His body was mine to hold, kiss, and explore. All the high energy of the day tuned to passion and love at night. In our bed, I was the center of his universe. Sometimes during the night he would hold me. He would wake and hear me crying and he would pull me into his arms and just hold me. I would put my face on his chest and listen to his heart beating as he held me and kissed my hair. He was always so warm, always so patient. He thought he knew what the night mares were about - no need to talk about them, so he held me trying to make me feel safe and warm. Usually that was enough; his arms were powerful medicine. One night I didn't stop crying after he woke and pulled me to him. He whispered to me and ran his fingers through my hair, but I couldn't stop the tears. Ronnie began to realize that there was more behind these tears than the memories of the incident in the locker room. I had told him of the bullies and the bruises, the taunting and emotional abuse I had been subjected to. These stories were so hard to relive. I was supposed to be the strong one - I was supposed to take care of him - but when I opened the seplecure in which I had buried those painful memories, I was once again that shy, small boy, alone and trembling before my tormentors. "Andy," he whispered, "Andy, please tell me what is so painful. I'm here now. I won't let anyone hurt you ever again," he pleaded. The problem was that this memory was so ugly and dark, the intensity and the revulsion it brought made me nauseous every time. I had worked so hard to forget . . to subvert the memory . . but always it came back . . always it came with the guilt, the heat of anger, the loathing . . and the tears . . always the tears. I hated crying over it . . over him. God how I wanted to just be over it. Just thinking of him and that night again makes me mad. Mad at me for the weakness, mad because I was as powerless over the memories as I was him. Damn! Dammit to hell and back! "Andy?" I turned to lie on my back. I blinked at the tears and they fell from my eyes and tickled down to my ears - just like that night. The warm tears pushed me over the edge into that abyss once again. The torrent of tears seemed to last forever; Ronnie stroked my hair, and kept his hand on my chest, and waited - he was so good to me. If I was going to get over this . . Ronnie was the one who could help me. (Thank you God for sending Ronnie to me . . .thank you!) "Damn him!" I said, "Damn him! I hate him so much. It was awful, Ronnie . . . it hurt so bad and . . and it made me feel ..." I was trembling and the tears were still there. I decided that it was time. I had to tell someone about that night. I had bottled it in for so long, but I could trust Ronnie with my secret. God finally gave me someone to share this with . . finally. "Mutt," I said hoarsely, "His name is Mutt. That's Dad's uncle. He lives with Grandma in Fort Worth. I was only 13. He did stuff to me, it still makes me cry." My tears had stopped and I was emotionally drained. Ronnie just continued to pet me. "Tell me what happened, Andy, talk to me Buddy." There was real concern in his voice. My mind slipped into a fog then and I told. I don't remember the words I just know I told . . . ************* Authors note: This section is very painful and way hard to write and . . . read. Some of you may want to skip down to the next break indicated by the asterisks (******). This is the story of how I was raped by an evil and heartless man. I have wrestled with if I should add this to Ronnie's story; ultimately I have, because the way Ronnie loved me and helped me through this is all the more reason why his story had to be told. Also, in case there is any doubt - what this man did was wrong. The telling of this is in no way intended to excite or inspire anyone. It took years of love and the grace of God for me to put this behind me. ************** Grandma's was my favorite place in the whole world! She was the absolute greatest. She loved me - and I think I was her favorite. She never said it, but I believed it. She always had my favorite food ready when I came over, always managing to make sure there was at least one extra oatmeal snake cake for me, or her delicious home-canned dill pickles (yumm). She would spoil me bad, and made sure I knew it - I did - and I loved her. I always jumped at the chance to stay over at Grandma's. She let us eat ice cream before bed time, and we could stay up as long as we wanted on Friday or Saturday night and watch the scary shows on TV that Mom and Dad wouldn't. She didn't care so long as we turned out the lights and TV and were in bed before morning. Typically I would sleep in a spare bed set up in her room. She always had fresh sheets and somehow they were always warm and so soft, extra blankets too - I was in heaven at Grandma's. One day her brother, Mutt, retired off the long-haul truck and moved in with her. Grandpa had died a couple of years earlier and Grandma was alone now, so it sorta seemed . . normal, I guess. I never really liked him though. I didn't know just why, but something about him made me uneasy. He was a big man - really big. He was about 6'-4" tall, weight at least 280 pounds; had huge hands and they were rough and hard. He was gray headed, almost white. His eyes were an eerie gray color and always gave me the creeps if I looked at them straight on. He always smelled like and old man, like he needed a bath: he smelled like a dirty old man. So, one weekend I ended up sleeping over at Grandma's alone. Mike had some school thing to do or something, so he went home on Friday night with Mom and Dad, and I stayed for the weekend with Grandma. I was beside myself with joy. I got the royal treatment too. I remember finally slipping into the bed that night and I had this kick-ass grin on my face because I had two whole days left in paradise. I drifted off to sleep, dreaming about ice cream and homemade lemon aide. The next morning I woke and Grandma was in her small kitchen. I could smell breakfast and hear her humming a tune while washing some dishes. I stretched and turned out the covers and got out of bed. I was in my tighty whities and a white wife-beater tee shirt. Grandma never minded us boys coming to breakfast in our underwear, so long as we dressed afterwards. I walked into the kitchen and Mutt was at the table sipping coffee. He stared at me and his eyes wandered all over my body. I was suddenly aware that I was in my underwear and became uncomfortable in them for the very first time in my life. I quickly sat down so he couldn't see everything he wanted. Grandma brought over some bacon and scrambled eggs, poured me a cup of coffee, and set toast and homemade jelly out. She was going to the market and to get her hair done and then to the J. C. Penny's to buy some stuff, and she wanted me to know that she would be gone until late in the afternoon. I barely remember the conversation that morning. I was in some sort of distant place because my mind had worked out that I was gong to spend the entire day with Mutt - all by myself - alone with him. . . and I felt alone. Grandma kissed me on the cheek as she made her way out the door. I still remember the sound of the old wooden framed screen door as it slapped shut against the doorframe - it was the sound of loneliness. Mutt was watching me as he sipped his coffee. As quickly as I could gulp my breakfast down, I got up and went to get dressed. I put on my jeans and a shirt and my socks and shoes - totally dressed, something I rarely did on Saturdays, but today it felt necessary. It was a sort of Saturday ritual that Mike and I would mow her lawn on Saturdays when we were there. It rarely needed mowing, but Grandma liked it kept neat, so we did it. No one asked us too, we just did it for her. I hollered at Mutt that I was going out to mow the lawn and went straight to it without returning to the kitchen. I piddled in the shed and tinkered with the mower awhile, stalling. I wasn't sure why, but I felt I needed to minimize the time I was around him. I subconsciously figured I was safer out in the yard in plain sight of the neighbors then I was in there with him. Eventually I cranked the mower and put it to work. It was a small yard and all too soon it was done. I was putting away the mower in the shed when a voice made me nearly jump out of my skin. "Whatcha doin?" came a singsong voice that could only be my best friend in the whole world, Billy. Billy lived two houses down from Grandma with his grandparents. His folks were killed in a car crash and his grand parents were his only relatives. They took him in and loved him. He was sad sometimes, but was adjusting pretty good. He and I were the only two kids on the block, so we naturally hit it off and became best buds. I met him when we were 11 or so and he was the first kid I ever had a crush on. He was shorter then me with brown hair and eyes like me, but he had the softest curls, soo sexy! After a few months, he and I began a little mutual experimenting with each other and first one thing led to another until we were very intimate with each other. We would hold hands when no one was around. Both of us were too young to understand what love was, or we would have called ourselves lovers I guess. Instinctively, we knew we couldn't talk about what we did and never held hands or kissed in front of folks. We just knew that we belonged to each other. "Jesus, Billy!" I yelped, "Ya scared the crap outta me!" Hr giggled and said, "I have to go into town with Gramps today, he wants me to go with him." His voice sounded as down about the news as I, my heart sank. He came over to me and hugged me and kissed me really quick. "Think we can sneak off to our hide-out when I get back?" "Sure," I said as I grinned at him. "Just come holler at me when you get back." He pecked me on the cheek and looked straight into my eyes, his sparkling green, and he turned and skipped across the street and banged into his house. His screen door slammed shut and I felt alone again. Dejectedly I made my way back inside and sat in the living room in one of the two overstuffed and wore out recliners. It was so big that it was hard to get comfortable in. I normally sat on the couch. But I figured I wouldn't have to share the recliner so I chose it - it seemed safer. I was watching the Saturday afternoon westerns on TV when Mutt came in carrying a class of ice water. He drug in a kitchen chair and sat beside me and offered the water. "Drink up boy," he gruffed, "all that work has to make a big boy like you thirsty." His large German nose was red and course, it was the predominant feature of his face, except for those cold gray eyes. I took the water and drank it. I returned my attention to the western and tried to shut him out. He moved his hand to my leg and rubbed it. I froze. My mind was racing, I didn't want him to touch me, but I couldn't think of how to tell him to get his filthy hands off me. He took my silence to mean everything but what I felt inside, and he began to move his hand upwards toward my crotch. I kept my eyes glued to the TV; I couldn't look at him. When I said nothing to this advance, he reached over and grabbed my dick through my jeans and sort of stroked up and down my shaft. My stupid member jumped to full mast at the first touch. Damn. I wanted to puke right there on the spot. I remember feeling my breakfast trying to come up. I was terrified. I wanted to bolt for the door and run to Billy's and beg to go with him. I wanted to scream at Mutt to get the hell away from me and leave me alone . . . but I froze . . everything about me froze except my stupid dick that just betrayed me and got hard when a stupid pervert was feeling me up. "My," he said, "Your pretty big down there boy. How old are you now . . thirteen?" I nodded. "Pretty big equipment for a thirteen year old. Ever wank on this thing?" he asked while still fondling me and winked at me. I almost puked again. I didn't answer. "Most boys your age are doing it all the time. I bet you and Billy do stuff." My ears started burning and I must have gotten a guilty look on my face because he said, "I thought so. I saw him kiss you just now. That's sweet boy, got your own personal boy toy right across the street. Don't you worry none though boy . .your secret's safe with old Mutt here. Of course, if your gonna take care of ole Billy boy next door, you may as well take care of your own flesh and blood - don't you think?" I jumped up and ran toward the bathroom, I was loosing breakfast big time. I heard him chuckling as I bolted from the room. I made it to the bathroom, thankfully without having made a mess to clean up all over Grandma's living room. I sat on the side of the tub and waited until I was sure the nausea had passed. After I washed my face in the basin, I sat back down on the tub. I decided that I was just going to go outside and wait out there for Grandma to come home. I could climb the tree in the front yard and wait for her. The only problem was that Mutt's room was immediately beside the bathroom. As I quietly slipped out of the bathroom and attempted to get down the hall to the front door, he called me from his bedroom. I froze in my tracks. "Boy," he said, "You alright?" I nodded. "Must have been the heat that made you sick. You need to come lay down and rest." I was frozen in my tracks. I didn't know what to do - no way I was going in there - not in his room, not alone . . no way. But my feet shuffled toward his door way and the next thing I knew he had pulled me into his bed. I was dark and musky smelling. There were books stacked everywhere and the place smelled like and old antique shop. He had a cool wash cloth and put it on my forehead. I guess he brought it from the kitchen. He said, "You're looking pretty peaked there boy, need to just lay here and relax a while." He unbuttoned my shirt, pulled it open and out of my jeans. Then he grabbed my tee shirt and pealed it off next. I closed my eyes and tried to think of anything else but him and where I was. I felt him fumbling with the snap of my jeans, and then I felt him pull the zipper down. He pressed his hand down on my dick and it jumped. He lifted my hips and pulled my jeans off and down to my ankles. Sitting up, he moved down and pulled off my shoes and jerked my jeans all the way off. I could feel him staring at my body. My dick was at full mast and the underwear could not contain it, nor conceal it. I felt totally vulnerable. His breathing was suddenly deeper, and he had this raspy, heavy breathing like he had asthma or something. He moved up and straddled my legs and put his mouth on my underwear and began mouthing my cock through the thin cotton material. He was moaning and rubbing his hands all over me. I just laid there and closed my eyes tight as could be and wept silently. My hot tears fell down my face and into my ears. Before I knew it, he had hooked his fingers underneath the waistband of my underwear and pulled them down and off. I heard him groaning as he lowered his face on my member. My mind and body were in utter conflict. I hated this disgusting old man taking such liberties with my body and touching me like this, I hated that he was taking my innocence and I had no choice in it. My dick was encased in the most sensational feeling of my life and I hated him; but I loved the intense pleasure in my cock. My mind was racing with how wrong this was; by body was involuntarily pushing me deeper into his mouth. I had been masturbating for several months, since after my 12th birthday, so I knew what was about to happen . .but dear God I didn't want it too. I tried desperately to make my body deny the pleasure I was feeling . . I had to be strong enough to resist . . . . . . .but I couldn't, my body betrayed me . . I erupted in his mouth and my young teenage body shook with the intensity of it. Tears of hate, tears of anger, tears of morbid embarrassment fell down . . down. . down. I felt myself melting away just like those tears. I was discussed with the betrayal of my body - I was overwhelmed with anger and if I had had a weapon just then I would have used it. Finally it was over. He was moving his heavy frame off me and moving beside me. I didn't move a muscle. I hoped he thought I was asleep or something . . anything. . .God don't let him talk to me . . I'll scream if he does. . . He laid there and let his breathing return to normal. Then he turned slightly and said, "See, that wasn't too bad now was it? I knew you would love it." I remained totally stoic, unmoving. He reached over and took my hand and placed it on his tool. Instinctively I tried to jerk back, but he, twice my size, easily held my hand in place. Oh dear God . . he is huge - massive. It is at least 10 inches long and I can barely reach my fingers around it. I didn't touch the head, but soon his precum was leaking all over the place and my hands stunk like him. He kept his hand firmly over mine and made me beat him to his own rhythm. His breathing got rapid and erratic and soon his body tensed and he shot his load high in the air. It splashed all over his chest and stomach and soon dribbled down his shaft and my hands. Suddenly I couldn't hold back and I began to vomit again. I jumped from the bed and sprinted to the bathroom. I put my hands to my face to keep the vomit from spewing everywhere, but when I did, his semen got on my lips and nose and I lost all control and I vomited all over the floor and hall and bathroom. Again I sat on the edge of the tub and dry heaved several times, tears streaming down my face. I got up and found a washcloth and put it under the cold water and washed my face. I got a drink from the faucet and sat back down on the edge of the tub. I was mortified and absolutely sure that I was going to wait right there until Grandma got home. Thankfully, he stayed away from me and didn't come looking for me. Eventually Grandma came home, she immediately knew something was wrong and came looking for me. She cleaned up the mess and drew me some bath water and made me slide in the tub. She never said a word about the fact that I was sitting on the tub nude. I was still in shock, so when she asked me what was wrong, I simply said that I got sick. She said it would be okay and went about cleaning and stuff. After my bath, I felt a bit better and I went and lay down on the couch and watched TV until dinner was ready. Grandma called me to the table to eat and Mutt was there. I sat and ate and kept my head down and refused to acknowledge him or look at him. I knew he was watching because I could feel his eyes on me. It creeped me out all over again just thinking about what he did to me. I was determined to get through the next few hours until Dad would come get me and I would be safe again. After I ate, I excused myself from the table and went back to watch TV. I grabbed a blanket and wrapped up in it and waited for bedtime. Not soon enough the evening news came on and I knew that I could go to bed and not raise any questions or suspicions. I yawned real big and got up and went to kiss Grandma good night. I told her I was sleepy and ready to turn in. What she said put me into shock. "Honey, Mutt said you had a rough day and the heat must have made you sick, I think you need to sleep in his room tonight so he can keep an eye on you and make sure you are okay - you go climb into bed in his room and he will be in later." I couldn't believe it. This wasn't happening . . no way in God's earth she was really gonna send me in there with that bastard . . . God, please nooooo.... I must have turned pale instantly. She put her hand to my forehead and said, "Poor dear, you really don't feel well." She got up and took me by the hand and led me to his room. She knew I slept in my underwear so she had me take off my pants and lay them across the chair and get into bed. I should have protested. I should have screamed out in defiance - but I couldn't say anything. I kept thinking about what I would tell Dad when he found out. If he believed me that Mutt took advantage of me, I had absolutely no doubt that Dad would kill him - literally. I believed Dad would kill him, then what would I do? My Daddy would go to jail and I would never see him again, and it would all be my fault. I couldn't let that happen. There was also the real chance that the sick bastard would convince Dad that it was me that wanted it and that I started it and it was my entire fault. Truth was that by now I wasn't sure myself that it wasn't my fault. If I had stopped him when he put his hand on my leg, or when he first touched me there - none of this would have happened. If I had just kept walking later and went to the tree like I intended, none of this would have happened. It was my fault. God I hated myself for being in this mess. Even my own body betrayed me and I knew down deep that part of me liked what he did. I was the sicko - not him. How could I face Dad? How could I face Mom? What would Mike say? So, I said nothing. I crawled under the stinking nasty sheets and moved to the far end of the bed - and said nothing. I pulled the sheets up to my chin and choked back the urge to puke again and prayed for sleep. Sleep never came . . .he did. Half an hour later he came in the room and turned out the light and got into bed. I froze, desperate for him to think I was asleep. In my childish 13-year-old mind I felt as if sleep would protect me. It was obvious that no one else (God included) was going to help; I desperately hoped sleep would protect me. I heard him wheezing that sick asthma breathing sound and felt him adjust himself in the bed. His hand snaked under the sheets and touched me, my body recoiled away. He said, "Why'd you wear those underwear to bed boy, you know you're not gonna need them." He grabbed me by the shoulder and rolled me over to my back. His hands began running all over me and soon settled on my dick and he massaged it through my fresh underwear. He hooked his fingers under the waistband and pulled them down and off. Next he grabbed the tee shirt and took it off, leaving me naked and vulnerable once more. The tears were back, falling into my ears and I heard a sound coming from my lips. "Please," I whispered. It was a last pleading for mercy and for him to stop. I just wanted him to leave me alone. "See," he said, "I knew you would want more." I couldn't believe it, the bastard thought I was asking for more . . how could he think that? How could he imagine I liked this? Then my mind said . . "you do like it . . remember how hard you got? Remember how good it felt to shoot your load down his throat? You do want this." This can't be happening the other half of me screamed. This just isn't real. But while this stupid mind game was going on in my head Mutt was busy himself. He was stroking my now erect penis and soon went down on me like he did earlier. I again struggled with the wrongness I felt about him doing this to me, and the pleasure he was bringing my body. I must have moaned because he was really getting into it. I felt him part my legs and put one of them over his shoulder. Then to my horror, I felt him pressing his fat fingers at my asshole. They were slimy with something (I now know to be K-Y Jelly). No one has ever touched me there and I was mortified. I pressed down with all my might in resistance to the intrusion, but he slipped past my defenses with first one, then another, then another finger. His hands were huge, as were his fingers and it hurt so bad. My ass was burning and I could feel him moving them back and forth as he finger fucked me. All the while his mouth never left my dick and he kept his steady up and down rhythm going on me. Up and down, in and out. Then, he touched something deep inside me that sent a bolt of electricity throughout my entire body and I exploded in his mouth and my body shook with the power of the feelings. Drained, I collapsed on the bed. I thought it was over. But he said, "You're really gonna like this boy." He moved behind me and rolled me over onto my stomach. I felt him raise my belly up slightly off the bed and he put a pillow under me, raising my ass up off the bed slightly. I had no idea what he was doing. My mind was absolutely numb by now. Then I knew. I felt him back there lining himself up to me and I knew. I began to sob into the pillow because I knew. I could only think about how big it was. I could barely reach around it with my whole hand, it was nearly a foot long for God's sake. How in the world would it fit and not kill me? His dick was hot. Hot and slimy with the same thing his fingers had on them. He spread my ass cheeks apart with his hands and pressed into my asshole with his cock. I screamed into the pillow and bit my lip till I could taste blood. His entry was slow and forceful. He never stopped pushing until I could feel that he was all the way in. He stopped only when his pubes were on my butt. Then he began to move back and forth. I was no longer innocent. I was no longer a little boy. I hated him. I prayed that this would kill me and that I would just die right here. He kept pounding and driving into me. Somehow he sifted positions because suddenly I felt that same electric shock deep inside me that I felt with his fingers in me; I orgasmed onto the pillow. He must have somehow known it, because it caused him to groan out loud and he began to ejaculate into my ass. I could feel it flowing into my insides. My tears never stopped. The pillow my head was on was soaked with tears. The pillow under my stomach was soaked with my seed. My mind couldn't sort out the difference between the pain, the confusion, and the pleasure. I was wasted. I barely remember him rolling off me, but he must've, because he came back over and over again that night. I lost count, but I know he entered me three more times - after that my mind quit working. ******************* Ronnie was crying too. He had me pulled into his chest, his arms wrapped around me and I could feel his tears as the fell. We were both trembling. We lay in silence for a long, long time, the only sounds in the room was our breathing and tears. "That sick bastard," he finally said, "I'm gonna kill the bastard." I could feel him tense as he said it. "Andy, why didn't you tell someone? Why didn't you tell your Father?" "Because," I said in a very hoarse and raspy voice, "Because he would do just what you said. He would kill Mutt. I know Daddy, and I know he would kill him. Even now, he would. Please don't tell anyone, Ronnie . . . please, promise me." "But Andy, if you don't tell . . he gets away with it. He may be doing that to other kids too. You have to tell, Andy, you have to." "Ronnie, I only told you because I thought I could trust you. What he did was against me. I have to keep this to myself. I can't live with myself if Daddy goes to jail over this. It's bad enough what he did to me, but nobody knows, and everyone is okay . If I tell, everything changes . . forever. I swear to God Ronnie, I'll hate you forever if you tell." "I should tell . . . we should tell . . I can't believe I'm going along with this." I leaned over and kissed him softly on the lips. "Thank you Ronnie, I knew I could trust you." I tuned my back to his chest and snuggled down as deep into his arms as I could go, and I pulled his arms around me. I pressed my lips into the softness of his upper arm and I began to drift off to sleep. Sleep had almost claimed me when he said, "Andy?" "Hmm?" "What happened to Billy? You said he was your best friend . . what happened?" "Oh," I said with some regret in my voice. "I quit going over to Grandma's so much. I only went when Mike was with me. Then suddenly on day Billy told me that they were moving. I asked him why and where. He said that they didn't think the neighborhood was safe anymore and they were moving to Arizona. I never saw him again." "Wow, did you . . .um . like .. .get to say good bye and stuff." "Yeah, he asked me to spend the night the last night they were there. We slept together in his bed and held each other. We cried some, but we got to be together. I kissed him goodbye the next morning in front of his Gramps and Grams; they just smiled. We were crying when they drove away. Somehow we knew that we would never see each other again." "Oh man, there aren't any good parts to this story Andy." He sniffed back the snot and wiped at his tears. "I'm here Andy. I can't change any of it, but I'm here and always will be. Nothing like that will ever happen to you again, not while I'm here." I was already asleep. I knew it about him, I just knew it. *************** Soon after I came home I began to wonder about what would happen to me when I returned to school. I knew the pressure was off my orientation, as most kids believed that I was the straight kid who put an end to the two idiots that assaulted me. In High School, I had already worked into some sort of respect as an athlete, after all . . . I lettered in every sport the school offered. The guys had accepted me for the most part as an equal. I wasn't "friends" with most of them, because I was so afraid to let myself get close to them. What if one of them became friends and somehow found out my deepest secret? That would mean a return to the torture I endured as a kid at elementary and Junior High. It was a risk I couldn't, I wouldn't take. I would live lonely before I lived in terror again. ********************* One sunny afternoon I was setting on the front porch swinging on the porch swing and enjoying the fresh air and basically just being out of doors. Ronnie was at ball practice and wouldn't be home for a couple of hours. As I sat and swung back and forth, the hypnotic nature of the swing and the air breezing around, the smells and distant neighborhood noises took their toll and I drifted off to another place in my mind. I was remembering the time when another school jerk in the 7th grade decided I needed to be the object of some cruel joke with his buds. Mikie Reedy had red hair - he was shorter then me by a couple of inches, but about 15 or 20 pounds heavier, freckles all over his face. Personally I like red hair and stuff - but he was just ugly - no way around it - ugly little person, and the personality to match it. On this particular occasion Mikie found me in my special place out at the back of the schoolyard leaning up against the cyclone fence. I would go out after lunch and sit on the slight embankment that the fence was built on and be alone. Usually the sun was warm, the other kids would be running around screaming and stuff - just acting like kids - but I stayed away from them. If I didn't I always manage to get hit or punched - or laughed at - so I stayed out there by the fence, out of sight - out of mind. It was a good arrangement. The sun was warm and I had closed my eyes soaking in the warmness of the rays and drowning out the noises of the kids by listening to some tune in my mind. All of a sudden a terrible pain exploded in my left side and the air disappeared from my lings - I screamed out in pain and rolled over instinctively to a fetal position. My eyes searched for the source of the pain and I saw two dirty tennis shoes almost standing on me they were so close. My eyes moved up to see whom they belonged too. "Get up you little faggot!" he barked, as he kicked me in the stomach. I rolled away from him and struggled to my feet. Several of his group of thugs gathered around and were laughing and jeering. I looked wide-eyed all around and saw absolutely no way out. Turning to face my nemesis I said, "Go fuck off you bastard!" "Oh! Fag Boy's got a temper!" he said gleefully. "This is gonna be sweet guys. Watch me teach this little faggot some manners." He looked around and his cohorts grunted their enthusiasm. He stepped directly toward me and swung his right hand up from his waist and drove it hard into my stomach. I thought I was gonna puke. I spun and stumbled down the small hill. I so desperately wanted to be left alone - that's all I wanted - "Just leave me the fuck alone!" I wanted to scream. My mind was racing - this just made so mad. What right does this creep have to do this shit too me! Why doesn't someone stop him - or help me! All of a sudden I just sorta snapped. A vision of an old John Wayne movie blurped across my mind - one where he turned away from the bad guy and seemed about to walk away. The Duke said, "Oh hell!" and spun on a dime and knocked the ever-loving shit out of the unsuspecting bad guy. My brain put that plan into play - like Data on Star Trek Next Generation walking into the Holo-Deck telling the computer to "start Duke simulation!" I knotted my fists up tight and with tears streaming down my face walked deliberately two or three steps away from Mikie. "Where you going freak!" he yelled as he raced down to grab me by the shoulder. On instinct, once I felt his grimy hand on my shirt I turned and swung with all my might. My right fist smashed into the hollow of his cheek just below his left eye. The force and surprise knocked him flat on his ass like some sorta huge kids bunching bag! The shock on his face was priceless. I could see a twinge of my own fear in his eyes. I immediately followed my momentum and attacked him, kicking him as hard as I could right in the face. Now I told you before that we never had much money - right? Well on this particular occasion I was wearing this really old pair of brogans that were my Grandpa's. My tennis shoes had worn completely out and Dad couldn't afford to buy me any shoes. Grandma to the rescue - she went into her closet and came out with the ugliest, heaviest, brown brogans you ever saw in your life. They had these extremely hard leather soles and they were horrible. I begged and begged Mom to not make me wear them to school. I was already the target of enough ridicule without wearing those gosh awful things. - Today they were perfect! At the time I kicked at him - I had forgotten about the leather shoes, but as soon as I saw the skin tearing under his eye where I connected I realized just how valuable they were gonna be just now. I kicked a dozen more times, each time he screamed and rolled trying to get out of my reach. Finally I pounced on him and started punching him like crazy - I really don't remember how many times I hit him, but by the time Coach Goode got there and lifted me off him, we were both bloody. (Coach Goode wasn't the same jerk from the precious chapter - this guy actually had a heart). "Reedy!" Coach said as he drug me up with one hand and Mikie with the other, he had me by the right upper arm and Reedy by the nap of the neck. "Can't you stay out of trouble for one blasted day? You're nothing but a sack of shit and looks like someone just managed to stomp you like a sack of shit deserves." Mikie was crying and wiping blood from his face. "Coach he started it!" Mikie cried out as he struggled to free himself from Coach's grasp. Coach just shook him a bit and said, "Wrong. I was watching the whole thing partner. You think I didn't see you stir up this crowd and walk all the way across the schoolyard and kick Smith here while he was minding his own business? I don't know what came over him - but you'd better be glad I was here Mister." Releasing both of us back off our tiptoes, Coach looked at me and said, "Smith, next time I see you hit anyone or see you with those god-ugly shoes - I'm taking you to my office and give you swats! You got me Mister?" I nodded my understanding as I wiped at the stupid tears running down my face. My knees were trembling and my breathing felt like I was about to hyperventilate. "Now get down to the school nurse and tell her Coach Goode sent you to get checked out. I'll be down in a few minutes to sort through all this." He released me and I turned and started toward the nurse's office. The now silent crowd parted and let me through. It all felt so surreal - like I was watching the whole thing on television. As I walked down the hill I overheard Coach say to Mikie and the rest of the group, "I don't know what you people think is so funny about picking on the quiet little guys - but you all just found out that some things just aren't what they seem. I suggest you all leave that young man alone from now on." ******************* Back on the porch swing, I felt someone sit down on the swing beside me and I jumped at the intrusion. I didn't hear anyone walk up and it startled me. It was Mike. He pulled me to him and hugged me up real tight. I realized that I was crying and even trembling. Mike held me and told me everything would be all right. I lifted my head from his chest and asked, "Mike what am I gonna do? How do I keep from always being so afraid? Why does everyone hate me and want to hurt me all the time? Why? What did I do? Why me?" My tears continued and he just pulled me back to him and held me. He held me and we swung out on the front porch in the gentle breeze and I cried. Eventually, I stopped crying and we just stayed there silent for a long time. After he was sure I had pulled myself together, he said, "Andy, Buddy, I don't know why all this happens to you. I got into my share of fights over the years, but not like what seems to happen to you. I can't tell you why. What I can do is help you put and end to it all." I shifted in the swing and pulled up from his chest and looked him square in the face, "Really? How?" "That's what I came over here to talk to you about. See, Dad and me have been talking. You know he always told us not to start fights and all that stuff - right?" I nodded. "Well, we decided that until you can defend yourself - I mean really defend yourself, you'll always be an easy mark. It's kinda hard to say, but kids that aren't sure of their selves give off this sorta, vibe that says, "here I am - hit me!" The imagery made me laugh. "So, I'm gonna help. I'm gonna teach you. It will be hard - I'm gonna push you, hard. But together we're gonna put and end to the pick-on-Andy shit." I smiled as big as a clown and jumped up in his lap and squeezed him as hard as I could. "Oh thank you Mike. I love you so much." He laughed and pushed me away, "You won't be thanking me in a few days when you're begging me to let up, Bud!" We stayed out there for the rest of the afternoon talking and laughing about stuff - I don't remember what we talked about - I just remember how special Mike could make me feel and how he made me feel important. Around 6:30 Ronnie came sliding into the drive on his bike. He laid it down perfectly and bailed out without missing a beat and bounded up the steps of the porch and jumped into my arms. The kiss he gave me was . . . WOW! "Hey, you two get a room!" Mike said with a huge grin. "Perfect plan," Ronnie said and he jumped up and practically dragged me to our room. (God I loved saying that - "our room!"). I was barely past the door when he slammed it shut and pushed me against the wall pinning me with his body pressed to mine. He pulled me into a deep passionate kiss. Our hands and arms wrapped around one another and we began grinding our mid sections together. I was moaning as he held me tighter and kissed even more passionately. With almost no warning my cock exploded in orgasm spewing cum all in my boxers. My knees gave way and I started sliding down the wall. We collapsed in a heap together, our breathing out of control. "Wow!" was all I could say. Ronnie's eyes were sparkling and he licked his lips seductively, "Hmm, you made a mess . . . I'd better get you cleaned up !" He pushed me over and dove for the button on my shorts. With delft fingers he released the button and pushed my shorts and plaid boxers down and off me with almost one single motion. He was kissing me all the while and did his work without looking. Without waiting for any response from me he moved down and took my softening member into his hot mouth and quickly had me hard as a rock again. He pulled off and kissed the top of my prick and then licked and kissed all the way down the shaft and back up again. Then he moved to my pubes, burying his nose in them. He pulled first one then the other of my balls into his mouth and rolled them around with his tongue. Finally he moved back to my member and finished what he started. I nearly passed out when I exploded in his mouth. I barely remember him pulling me up and moving me to our bed. He sat me down and pulled my tee shirt over my head and put me under the sheets. I was left in only my socks. My balls were still tingling and sorta burning from being drained twice inside five minutes. I protested when I thought he was going to leave me and held onto his hand - not wanting him to go. But he gently kissed me on the lips and whispered, "I'm not going anywhere." He stood and removed his workout clothes and slipped into bed beside me. Turning to face me I kissed him and whispered, "I missed you Ronnie." We kissed again. "Your two up on me Buddy," I whispered. Kiss. "I'm not keeping score," he said. Kiss. "Fair's fair." Kiss. I pushed past his soft face and kissed his neck and playfully bit at his ear. I rolled him on to his back and moved my full weight onto him. I held his face in both my hands and looked him in the eyes, "Ronnie, you make me feel . . loved. Thank you for loving me." Tears came to his eyes and he said, "Shut up and kiss me." So, I did. Kiss him. Deeply and passionately I kissed him. This is what I always dreamed it would be like to love him. Right here, like this, our bodies pressed together, the heat of passion warming us, feeling his firm body and silky soft skin, and kissing his passionate lips. I moved down his body slowly and methodically kissing every part of him. When I got to his belly I stopped and just lay my head there listening to his ragged breathing and his rapid heart beat. I was looking at his private place and took him in my hands and felt him throb through his penis. The aroma of his musk was heavy in the air. After a long wait I took him to the same place he carried me earlier - ecstasy. I let him return to reality while I rested on his belly, softly caressing him, basking in the knowledge that I could make him feel this way. He began to relax and his breathing eased into a smooth steady rhythm. My Ronnie was asleep. I closed my eyes and drifted away while lying there on his belly listening to his heart beating the sweetest melodic tune known only to lovers. A soft knock at the door woke me. I blinked a couple of times as my mind focused on what could have woken me. Lifting my head I was aware that I had been drooling and I wiped his warm skin with the sheet. I kissed his belly where my face had been and pulled the sheet and blanket over us. Once I was repositioned to a more respectable position for another set of eyes, I answered the inquiry, "Come in . . it's open," I said. Mike peered around the door, "Jesus - guys! Get some clothes on - dinner is ready. Is that all you two ever do?" I tossed a pillow at him and he laughed and quickly left the doorway. "No kidding," he yelled outside the door, "wake Sleeping Beauty and come down to eat!" "Be right down!" I hollered. My raised voice woke Ronnie and he stretched and curled his back like a cat then reached way up over his head. Then he turned back towards me folding his arms to his chest and snuggling into my arms. "I don't wanna go," he said. "Lets stay here, like this." "Come on get up Ronnie," I said, "I'm hungry." After grouching for a bit he unpeeled himself from his cocoon and we got up and dressed. We traded about a dozen more kisses and finally made our way down to the dinner table. Everyone was there, Mike and Nellie, Mom and Dad. We were the stragglers and of course everyone jeered and had their comments about what could have been detaining us; all the while Ronnie and I were getting redder and redder. Mom finally stepped in and called a stop to the good-natured humor and made Mike pray over dinner. As we devoured the food, we all broke into our discussions of the day's activities and accomplishments. There was such a happy noise level that all of us had bright smiles, laughter and sharp witted banter was plentiful. Dad looked at me as the conversation hit a lull and said, "Andy, boy, I've asked Mike to help you learn to fight back. I'm tired of you being the target of so much meanness at school. It has to stop - and you have to make stop. It won't be easy but we're all gonna help. You're naturally strong, a good athlete and have all the right resources to take care of yourself. The problem is you are too good and gentle on the inside - you don't want to fight, you'd rather be left alone. "Son, those are noble traits in you - traits I'm proud of. But at some point a man has to stand up for himself and put an end to bullies. It's dangerous, and fighting is not the answer you should seek, but if it comes to it - you have to be able to defend yourself." He paused to let all that soak in. "Do you understand what I'm talking to you about son? Are you with me on this?" "Dad, I have never been more ready then I am right now," I said. "I am tired of living in fear. I'll do what ever you and Mike tell me if it will make a difference in this constant fear, Dad." "Good!" he said. "It's settled then." And with that, the subject was closed - never ever to be brought up again. Dad was that way. Once he settled a matter in his heart - it was settled, no need to belabor it and re-hash it. My self-defense training began the following week. Mike began to show me how to use people's aggressive movements against them and to allow their strength to become my resource. I learned how to block crushing blows and redirect the energy. I learned how to take down even the biggest opponent by using his own balance against him. Mike taught me where the pressure sensitive places were to strike when disabling power was necessary. He taught me how only one or two skillfully directed and well placed blows could render any assailant harmless. I learned how to take a punch and recover quickly to turn the momentum back to my favor. Mike was patient and persistent. He helped me work out and build myself up, showing me what workout routines gave the best results, which weight lifting techniques yielded strength over just bulk. He worked with me in some basic boxing techniques - like stamina, movement, straight-on arm movements for maximum power. The pace was brutal, and at times very intense. But the effect was awesome. My body began responding long before my mind. I began to see the hardening affect of the training on my muscles and that in turn began to breed internal confidence. Within six months I was a different person; outside and inside. After those weeks and months of energy, I was never again beaten for being gay. I still had to deal with bigotry from time to time - but no one ever again marked me as an easy target. When Dad said a hard target is a target often passed by - he was right. Once people began picking up on the aura that I wasn't afraid anymore - they left me alone - that simple. I had my peace and freedom back. ********* Later the same night of the dinner when my self-defense training was decided, we all decided to watch a video in the living room. It was some action flick - not sure which one - I was sorta distracted throughout the entire thing. I was sitting on the couch and Ronnie sat on the floor with is back between my spread legs. I played with his hair and touched his neck and face. He would turn and suck my finger into his mouth and hold it there while running his tongue all over it. Several times I saw one that one then another of the family glance at us then turn quickly to the movie when they saw me looking. No one seemed upset, and all had a sorta smug look on their faces. Finally I couldn't stand it anymore. My boner was about to explode! If I could have managed to stifle the groans and screams of pleasure - there was gonna be no way I could camouflage the smell and the obvious wet place in my shorts, as I was free-balling again tonight. I leaned forward and whispered in his ear, "Let's go upstairs, pleeease?" He grinned and nodded and turned back to the movie. I stretched a bit too obviously and threw in an incredibly obvious fake yawn and announced, "Ya'll (Hey - watch it . . I'm from Texas okay!!), I'm tired and I'm going to bed." I stood, trying to nonchalantly rearrange my boner so it wasn't so obvious - without too much success. "You coming Ronnie?" I said nudging him with my knee. "Huh? Oh . . umm ... yeah . . I'm ....umm..." he stammered. This of course called everyone's attention to my . . situation . . and much to their delight I might add. "Look like he's not the only one about to COME!" roared Mike from the loveseat, and the whole room exploded in laughter and catcalls - pillows and popcorn suddenly airborne as Ronnie and I scrambled to escape the melee. Laughing and stumbling we made it out of the living room and up the stairs, collapsing in a fit of giggles on the bed. Ronnie turned me on my back and pulled his clothes off and sat on my stomach with all his glory. He put both hands on either side of my face and leaned in for a kiss. After a long passionate taste of his luscious lips, I flipped him over so I could strip my clothes. Once done, Ronnie insisted that he get back on top and I let him roll me on my back again - it seemed important. I had long ago decided that he would lead our relationship in all matters sexual. I mean - I was aggressive and passionate, but he would be the one to get his way if it came down to it. I liked it that way - I wanted to always please and pleasure him - what ever it would take - I would give. Once he was again sitting on my stomach and we exchanged a bit more saliva, he sat up and just gazed deeply into my eyes. He inched forward and was now sitting on my chest. He was still pretty small in over-all stature and this wasn't uncomfortable. I could feel the warmth from his ass and the texture of his balls on my chest. His dick was leaking precum and left a small trail on my abdomen as he moved forward. He rearranged his legs until his calves were under my shoulders and his precious cock only inches away from my lips. My tongue subconsciously reached out and licked my lips in anticipation. He said, "Oh God, you're so hot Andy, I can't believe your mine - all mine." He began to lower himself until his cock head was at my lips. I gently opened my lips and ran my tongue over the tip, tasting his essence. Lower he moved and his rod descended into my waiting mouth. This was so intense and so incredible. I had never dreamed of having him in such a dominate place over me and yet I loved every single minutia if what was happening. With a slow steady pace he began a rocking motion, pulling out slightly and pushing in slowly. I moved my hands up to roam all over his powerful legs and firm butt. I could soon feel his balls on my chin as they started rocking back and forth with his momentum. I don't know how long we kept at it, as time was completely irrelevant. All I know is that way too soon it was over. He collapsed backward on my chest then rolled over and off of me. I pulled him around and into my arms, both of us breathing rapidly and our hearts racing. We kissed, and he reached down and pulled the blankets up over us. I was only then that I realized that I had orgasmed also and my seed was all over my chest and on him as well. He licked some of it up on his way back to my arms. We snuggled in to the blankets and each other, he in his favorite position with his head in the hollow of my shoulder, arm draped across my chest, and his leg pulled up on top of mine. I pulled him close in a tight hug with one arm and the other hand on his silky belly. Sleep slowly enveloped us as our heart rates and breathing returned to normal. Before we knew it we were in blissful sleep. ******************* I woke up this morning to listen to the rain gently pelting the roof and window. I hear distant thunder rolling and I snuggle deeper into the blankets and kiss his hair. My mind starts wondering back to another rainy Monday morning so long ago. . . . . .... I ran out of gas after letting Dad out at work. I was going to have to walk to school in the cold rain . . . . . . I decided long ago that I like rainy Mondays! They have a way of turning out to be memorable . . if you only believe! I gently turned him over and pulled his sleeping form tightly to me, rearranging our morning wood so we could snuggle . . .and drifted back to sleep with my Ronnie in my arms, his smell lingering all around, our love beating in time with our hearts . . . God, how I love this boy . . . . . . . . . The End. ******************************** Well, my friends. There you have it. I wrestled with where to end this story and how to leave these boys. I had to be true to them and not make this into a sex story, but leave it as the romance it really was. In the words of a friend, "Anything more and it turns out to be only about sex." What Ronnie and I shared was truly incredible. Don't ask about anymore of the future - this story is about us then. This story had to be told. To the many friends I have made during this work, thank you so much for all your kindness and encouragement. To those who have begged for more . . I will write again. Watch for more and hopefully one day I can set up a website to put this and other works. To those of you struggling with being gay and living in a difficult situation - all I can offer you is hope that one day your Knight will come, his armor will shine, and his love will sweep you off your feet. Hold on to faith, live for today, trust in tomorrow. I still welcome any and all comments. Those who have chosen to keep in touch - please don't stop. I love the time we've shared together. Contact me at boyzheart@hotmail.com with comments, suggestions or conversation. -Andy