Date: Mon, 18 Feb 2002 18:01:53 +0000 From: Java Biscuit Subject: Back to the Playground, eleven This is a story involving boy/boy, teen/boy, male/male graphic sex and not intended for reading by minors. If you are underage, or this type of material is illegal where you live, please stop now, and go read something else! This is a completely fantasized story meant only for the purpose of pleasurable reading. It explores themes which some readers may find offensive or disturbing. It's not meant to encourage unsafe, unprotected sex, or to condone sex with minors. Feedback: javabiscuit@hotmail.com Back to the Playground ~ chapter eleven by Biscuit I did say no to Josh. He didn't listen at first. I had to say it a second time, using Daryl's voice. Josh left a message on my answering machine setting up our Monday date. I left one on his, telling him that I wouldn't be there. He left yet another message. Jesus, I could hear the smirk in his voice this time around. "I'll be at your place about seven, Brandy, we'll talk." Yeah, right, I thought, his dick talking to my ass. It was Trent who bailed me out, with Daryl's help. I'd only been looking for something to do that night, so I wouldn't be home when Josh showed up. Trent said no, not good enough, when he got the story out of me. He took me out, claiming it was a good excuse to go back to his favorite Chinese restaurant in the old neighborhood. Daryl stayed behind, at my place, to wait for Josh to show up. God, I was nervous, but Trent was insistent, and it worked. Daryl came swaggering into the restaurant to meet us, at about seven fifteen. Cock of the walk, beaming at me and Trent like we were his little chicks. I was only his make believe chicken, but I'd earned his good will by giving him a chance to strut his stuff and be a hero to his real chicken. "No problem," he said. You could practically see the pride shining off of Trent when they looked at each other; a little of the glow spilled over on me. All Daryl had to do was exist, big and buff, saying my ass was his, and Josh backed off. Caveman stuff, but I didn't hear from Josh again. I even got a letter introducing me to the new advisor handling my investment account, inviting me to call him if I had any questions. My shrink had me convinced that I'd stood up to Josh myself. In as clear a way as he ever expressed an opinion, in that shrinky way, he said that finding a means to address the problem was the same as solving it myself. He really seemed pleased with me, as far as I could tell. I took the credit but it was really Skyler. His second birthday call to me made it plainer than plain could be and gave me the strength to do what I had to do. There was only room for one guy in my life, and he was it. How could I let myself get tangled up with Josh, run the risk of letting him help himself to what I'd promised Skyler? It was near midnight, his time, close to three in the morning for me, when he called -- from under the covers of his bed out in Oakland. We never talked about Josh, or anything like that, but I knew by the time I hung up the phone that I'd find a way to keep Josh from ever touching me again. "Sorry to call so late," Skyler whispered to me. "Can you hear me? I have to talk low." "I can hear you," I said. I knew, without him telling me, that he was in bed, under the covers, by the close muffled sound. "Happy birthday, Sky. Did you get my message." "Yeah, my mom said you called. Thanks." "Sure." I wanted to say so much. I love you. I miss you. But I didn't want to cry. I cradled the phone on the pillow, my hand wandering down my bare belly. I was getting hard, from hearing his voice, like he was right there whispering in my ear. "It's the first time in seven years," he said. "You know?" It was true. I hadn't thought of it until he said it, but it hit me hard then. Since he'd turned eight, when I'd touched him, naked, for the first time, we'd always been together on his birthday. "Only three years left," he said. To me it felt like forever. Not for our imaginary wedding date to arrive, but until I'd see him again. I didn't say so, it was too depressing. "Know what I want?" he whispered. I could think of about a million things he might want. I just wanted to keep hearing him talk. "What?" Long pause. I heard him swallow. "Do it with me now, on the phone, okay?" Like I didn't already have my hand between my legs. "Anything you want, birthday boy," I told him. You'd think we'd have been on the phone a lot, missing each other as much as we did, but it wasn't all that easy to talk. He had trouble getting privacy in the house, for one. The other problem was that we'd end up more miserable, half the time, after we talked -- like it made the distance bigger instead of smaller. "Tell me how you're going to fuck me on our wedding night," Skyler said. It was a little bit of a splash of cold water for me, but he was breathy, in the long pause where I didn't know what to say, and that was enough to start warming me up again. "I like to think about it," he said, "after, when we're doing it right afterwards." The catch in his voice was hot and I knew he must have been getting himself in a state while he waited for Charlotte and Art to go to bed, so he could call me. "Pretend like you're wearing a dress, okay?" Only Skyler could want such a thing. I could see his face in my mind, like when he was a kid, passionate, pleading, sprinkling blades of grass on me, telling me we were on his ship. "Okay," I said, feeling like I had back then, half wanting to laugh and half wanting to crush him in my arms. "It's after our wedding," I said. God help me, I could feel the heat through the phone when I said the word wedding to him. I'd have rather killed myself than laugh at him. "I'm taking off my dress," I said. "Am I wearing a slip?" "Yes," he said with a soft hiss, and my dick pulsed in my hand. "Stockings," he said. How could a sound so quiet that I had to strain to hear it be so intense? "You're wearing stockings," he breathed the words, "your ass is wet, you're hard, you want me to fuck you." Damn, he sounded like he was close to coming. The truth is I didn't have to do a damn thing, Skyler was telling himself the story. Him panting through the phone, hints of rustling cloth finally did it for me. I could almost see it like he did. Me all slinked up in satin, my dick hard as rock and my legs spread, begging him to fuck me. I heard him groan, muffled into his pillow and I started creaming myself. We'd never make it in the phone sex industry. But it worked that night. Even if it was sad, after, not to be touching for real. He ended up getting a lot of shit from his mom when the phone bill showed up. Looking on the bright side, at least she hadn't picked up the phone and heard it. I got through the rest of that fall by increasing the number of art classes I was taking and shopping for property. I wanted a home. My new advisor was 'strongly urging' it, and without Trent and Daryl downstairs, it wasn't the same for me where I'd been living. The thought of a home was appealing. For me and Skyler. One way or another, even if it took a few years, I believed that boy would be with me. Karl and Lisa both helped me. But, wouldn't you know it would be Helen, of all people, who found the place that I ended up buying. She'd stopped working since my nephew was born and took on my house search like a job. She dragged three year-old, Karl Jr., every place she went. I'd be cringing as he screamed or threw fits in public and she'd blithely ignore it, like he wasn't howling or grabbing things and making total strangers want to kill us. Every time I met her to look at places, I'd be a nervous wreck by the end. Still, in all, he was a cute kid when he wasn't a holy terror. And he was pretty good the day she phoned to ask me to meet her and a realtor in the Village. One thing you've got to say for that woman, she nothing if not efficient. She had a list of criteria, which included finding a neighborhood where there'd be a lot of other gay people. I didn't think it was so important at the time. I'd never had that before. But she was right. It made life a lot more comfortable, I found out, to live somewhere that I blended in better. I loved the place on sight. A brownstone, like I lived in uptown, but bigger proportions. There was an art store on the first floor, which the real estate agent claimed would pay most of the mortgage, and two apartments that made up the top two floors. She said I could live in one, rent the other one and it would make a small income for me. The price was enough to give me nightmares, but I wanted it. I already knew I wanted to be up top, in the place that was kind of like my old one. Truly, without people helping me, I'd have been lost. But between Helen, her realtor, and the guy who had taken Josh's place, handling my money, the things got done that I never could have managed in a million years. By the middle of December I owned a home, and moved my few sticks of furniture into it, with Trent and Daryl's help. So there I was, sitting pretty, in my somewhat empty new home. It was beautiful, like a bigger version of my old place with a better kitchen and bathroom. All I needed was a fifteen year-old blond boy to make my life complete. I tried to make it seem real that he'd live there by setting things up as if he did. I bought a desk, thinking of him doing his homework there. Doing stuff like that can be dangerous. Like the phone calls. Sometimes it was reassuring to think about him being there, and sometimes it made feel more lonely. My sister Lisa and her boyfriend came to my place on Christmas Eve. Their housewarming gift to me, a crate of Christmas things. Her boyfriend hefted a tree up my stairs and we made an evening out of setting it up, and going out to dinner. One thing you could say for my new neighborhood, was that it had tons of places to eat and shop. I loved that. And I was feeling okay, considering the time of year. Still not the best time for me. Without Skyler to make it sweet for me, Christmas was a little too much like it had been in the old days, a time to think about who was missing. I was probably closer to my family, or at least the Karl and Lisa branches of it, than I'd ever been. The next day I would go up to Karl and Helen's to watch the little monster rip through his presents and admire the now tinsel-less tree. Precision tinseling would have to wait for Karl Jr. to grow up a few more years. Lisa and her boyfriend would be there in the afternoon. Lisa's boyfriend probably thought I was either shy or didn't like him much. I liked him okay but I avoided making eye contact the whole night. Once bitten, twice shy, I guess. It seemed safer not to look, just in case he was looking back. My sister thought I was doing great. Compared to how it was, back when I lived with her, I was doing great. It was good that they'd come to see me, dinner with them was at least a distraction and we all walked back to my place slowly, where they'd parked, looking at the decorations in shop windows. It was Lisa who said as we approached the building, "There's someone pacing on your stairs." I looked up, expecting to see the guy from the second floor. He'd already been locked out of his place once before. A nice enough, middle aged gay guy, who reminded me a little of my brother Greg, except Greg would never have done anything as irresponsible as getting locked out of his house. But it wasn't my neighbor pacing the stairs, looking up at my windows. It was a restless boy with honey colored hair; even in the streetlights I could see his bottom lip in a serious pout when he turned to scan the sidewalk. I should have thrown my arms around him and kissed him like I wanted to. I don't think us staring at each other, wanting to and not doing it, fooled Lisa, but I can't say I had a rational thought in my head. All I could think was, get him upstairs! Poor Charlotte. Her loss was my gain. She'd got into her husband's internet files, snooping to see what he'd what he'd ordered for her for Christmas. The guy never should have bragged about how easy it was to shop online. What she found a was a ton of explicit emails, to and from other woman. Skyler said she totally flipped out, printing out reams of the stuff while screaming at him to pack; in a frenzy of phoning friends, banks and credit card companies. As he was pacing my stairs, she was way uptown at the old homestead, being consoled by Trent's mom. He and I got inside my door and no further. Skyler dropped his pack and he grabbed me, trying to climb into my mouth, grind me into the back of the door and get his hands everywhere he could reach, all at the same time. "Don't ask me anything yet," was all he said to me. He was so overwrought, wanting it; he'd been hard for hours and was desperate to get at a bare patch of skin to rub on. It was a vertical wrestling match, battling to press our bodies together and somehow get of our clothes at the same time. The bed was about a million miles too far away. Coats on, our hands in each other's pants, I was pinned to the door. Through the tangle of way too much cloth there was suddenly a hard, naked cock sliding across my stomach and my whole body shuddered with pleasure. Hot and wet, crotches and mouths. You couldn't call it kissing, that fight for breath through our swiping tongues. Skyler got his hands on my ass, with his hips working a motion that turned me into hot jelly, everywhere but my dick. The rhythm of Skyler needing to come, it was imprinted into the marrow of my bones. I swelled up like a tide pulled by the moon. The same ecstatic motions he'd fucked me with as a seven year-old boy, seesawing in my lap on a swing, jabbing me with a thimble sized dick. It was the same quivering boy, his beautiful cock bigger and thicker than mine, rocking himself and me to bliss, with my weight in his hands. I came before he did, getting the head of my dick rubbed into the damp silky skin of his stomach. Skyler was shaky, exhausted, and unbearably sweet to kiss when he'd come. He was emotionally ragged, too. Slumped against the door, like a baby at the end of a tantrum, weak from crying, eyes still showing the strain of upset, but peaceful, at last. I got down on my knees to get his shoes off and help him step out of his pants, one leg and then the other. I took my time, pausing to kiss a slim, muscular thigh and his softened cock, to breath in the smell of him while I was down there. "My mom's here too," he said then. "She's uptown with Trent's mom. It's bad." He was looking around then, seeing the tree, taking in the sight of the place. "Thank God I'm here," he sighed. For him, it had been a night and day from hell, his mom in hysterics, dragging him to the airport where they'd run from airline to airline, trying to get on a flight. I guess they'd been there all night and then through the day. He didn't tell her he was going to come to me until they reached New York, to delay upsetting her more and minimize the amount of time she would have time to freak out. But he knew all along that he was going to do it; he was burning for it. I'd told him a while back that my sister was going to spend Christmas Eve with me, that I was going to take her and her boyfriend out to dinner instead of trying to cook. "I knew you'd come home, eventually," he said. For a teenager, Skyler didn't have much interest in beer, or liquor, and I don't drink much. But my sister had brought a couple of bottles of wine and we had one of them in bed with us as well as a plate full of food; the crackers and cheese I'd done up for while we were decorating the tree. It was a lot like it used to be when Skyler would visit and we'd wind up in bed with food, trying to talk, eat, drink and touch all at the same time. Heaven to put food in his mouth, hear his voice, see his face. Touch him. Maybe I was as nuts his mom, the girl that married dear old dad. He might have been drawn to what was flaky about me. But I was a lot luckier than Charlotte. At least I had been since I met Skyler. And flaky as I might be, for him I'd been pretty steady. "I'm not going back," he said. He'd washed down a mouthful of food with the wine and when he kissed me it tasted salty and like cabernet, and like him. So, so good. Handsome as he was, he looked worn out and too thin. He was still growing and part of me was in a state of nurture alarm, thinking how I had to get more food in him and make him rest. "You may have to go back, Sky. All your stuff's there, and there's school." He gave me a look that made me see the man he was becoming, strong as steel. "There's nothing to go back for. Things, Brandy. What. Clothes, my computer. A half year of school?" He shook his head. "I'll repeat the whole thing if I have to." God, I wanted to believe it. Skyler seemed changed by those few months in California, like his childhood had been burned out of him. God knows I'd done my share to make that kid grow up fast, but I wished I could ease things for him, make his life less serious than it had become. If I could just keep him with me! I rubbed my hand across his chest, feeling the shape of his collarbone, too prominent but so beautiful. "I'll beg your mom," I said. And that got him to smile. Smile or no, I was ready to do that. Anything. I kept waking up in the night, feeling him in my arms and then sinking back into sleep, thinking what I could say to her to make her let him stay. I didn't realize that it was no longer up to her. Skyler was set on what he wanted and he was done with not having it.