December 30, 1995
“Ready?” I asked, my backpack slung over my shoulder. I was at Eric’s front door, and we were going to walk over to Cory’s for a sleepover. The invitation was kind of sudden, with Cory calling the both of us yesterday. It was the last weekend of winter break, and I think our parents agreed because they could use a break from the both of us. Plus, they didn’t have to drive us anywhere. Andy was off with his family back east for Christmas and the New Year.
“Yup,” Eric said, followed by a loud “bye, see you tomorrow,” to his parents, somewhere else in the house. Have fun, came the reply from his mom. Eric closed and locked the door with his key.
Besides the sleepover, Eric and I were also invited to Cory’s church for a New Year’s Eve service Sunday morning, which was tomorrow. Mr. Davis, Cory’s dad, was giving the sermon. “Have you gone to church before?” Eric asked me.
“My grandma would take me sometimes when we lived in San Diego,” I said, “but not recently. Her church was … it was kind of an old church. Fire and brimstone. I didn’t like it very much.”
“Yeah,” Eric said. “I’ve gone to church with Cory before — there’s a lot of music,” he said.
“Oh yeah,” I said. “Everyone sang together in Grandma’s church.”
“This is more, like, there’s a band on stage. Like a concert,” he said. “Everyone holds hands. It’s OK, I guess.” He waited a beat. “I think it’s good we go to support Cory,” Eric said. “He’s a good friend, and being the son of a pastor can’t be easy.”
We got to Cory’s house, and spent the afternoon playing video games, watching a movie, and helping prepare dinner. Cory’s brother Cody was a constant presence, talking incessantly. Mrs. Davis put us to work making hamburger patties for dinner, and washing lettuce. Mr. Davis was really funny, talked a lot about church. The way he talked about it, though, was not what I expected. Running a church was more like running a school and a clinic at the same time. It was a business with a budget. He talked about a brand new cell-phone tower that Sprint had installed on a corner of the church property, and how he negotiated the lease terms. The tower was even disguised to look like a tall pine tree. “We call it the money tree now,” Mr. Davis joked.
The thing I saw, too, was that the Davises were a really, genuinely happy family. Mrs. Davis loved having a bustling house with kids and dogs, and Mr. Davis was deeply prideful of his role as a pastor and a dad. I didn’t really know a lot about Cory’s home life, and to see it started to unpack some things about Cory that I’d thought about.
I never talked about it with Eric, but there was the elephant in the room: Eric and I were coming to realize we were maybe gay, at least for each other, and Cory was at minimum bisexual. Watching Cory at home, it seemed like he was an entirely different person around his parents. When we were alone with Cory and Andy, getting each other off was practically all we did and talk about. Yet Eric and I saw how Cory just avoided discussing anything related to sex or relationships or even dating, carefully and quickly changing the subject when Eric brought up Cory’s girlfriend Lauren at the table.
Later in life, I would figure out that Cory had compartmentalized a lot of his feelings because of his complex trauma of coming to terms with his sexuality in a household where being gay was an affront to God. But for now, for tonight and tomorrow, Eric and I had to lean into the idea that we were just shy, late-blooming 13-year-old boys that weren’t ready to talk about girls yet.
And because this was a household where it was so outside the realm of possibility that boys would ever want to touch each other, Cory’s parents let Eric and I sleep in Cory and Cody’s shared room, while Cody got to camp out downtstairs on the couch overnight. At bedtime, Mr. Davis got out an inflatable mattress and put it on the floor between Cory and Cody’s bed. “You’d better draw straws or something to figure out who’s sleeping on the floor,” he said as he turned on the electric air pump.
“That’s OK, I volunteer,” I said, knowing full well that Eric and I would be sleeping together in Cody’s bed.
“That’s big of you,” Mr. Davis said. “What a good friend,” he added to Eric.
“The best,” Eric agreed, giving me an almost imperceptible wink. I went to go brush my teeth and change into pajamas. Cory and Cody had an attached bathroom, like I did.
“Lights out by 10. No butt sex,” he said, adding what in this household was a throwaway joke. Of course there wouldn’t be.
“Gross,” Eric said, leaning into it. Everyone chuckled.
“Hey, it’s a house rule. Good night boys,” he said, closing the door with a click.
“No butt sex?” Eric whispered, wide-eyed to Cory just as I came out of the bathroom.
“Wait what?” I asked. “Who’s having butt sex?”
“It’s a joke, my dad’s said it forever,” Cory said. “Nobody’s having butt sex, Bobby. But we’ve gotta be super quiet.”
“We’re good at being quiet,” I whispered, and Eric nodded. “Wanna get naked?” Did I even have to ask? I started undressing, but I was slow: By the time I was down to my underwear, Eric was already pushing Cory back onto his bed. They smashed their hard-ons together, and Cory twisted his legs around Eric’s. I hadn’t had the opportunity to actually watch what it looked like before — usually I was wrestling with someone else — but watching Eric was … hot. Like really hot. I loved seeing his butt squeeze with each thrust. Eric’s calves were perfectly twisted around Cory’s legs, smooth and flexed.
They were practically silent, the only slight shushing sound coming from Eric and Cory rhythmically grinding. Cory’s breath started to catch in his throat. He whispered a tiny unh, and Eric laughed a little ha at getting Cory to cum first. Cory’s body shivered as his cheeks got red. Eric slowed down, and pushed himself up into a cobra position on top of Cory. “Who’s next?” Eric asked, looking at me and knowing the answer.
He climbed off Cory while Cory caught his breath, and Eric’s cock shined in the dim light, slick with Cory’s cum. I stood up and pulled down my underwear, revealing my own cock, hard from watching my two friends hump together. Eric laid down and spread his feet apart, and I climbed on top of him. Eric wrapped his legs around my waist, and my cock found his, and slipped against it with the most amazing lubed sensation. I kissed Eric, our tongues wrestling against each other.
It didn’t take Eric long to cum, because he had already been pretty close on top of Cory. I worked him back up, though, and his whole body shuddered as he exploded all over my cock after only about a minute of grinding. Eric hugged me tight as he came, his body practically vibrating with pleasure.
I came up on my knees, straddling Eric. “Last man standing,” I whispered triumphantly.
Cory got up off his bed, his underwear back on. “Let me suck it,” Cory whispered softly. I wasn’t sure if he was asking me or Eric for permission, but Eric and I looked at each other and nodded. Eric and he started to clean up after I climbed off, standing on the air mattress between Cory and Cody’s beds. Cory got on his knees. He licked off Eric’s cum, or what I suppose was a mixture of his and Eric’s cum. Cory’s tongue was everywhere around my cock, and it transported me briefly back to his garage downstairs, where Eric and I watched as Cory sucked Andy off. Now I knew how it felt: Amazing. Cory worked my head with his mouth, and started jacking me off with his hand. Cory was careful not to make loud slurping noises, so he licked more than he sucked. My knees started to wobble as I felt my orgasm approaching.
I didn’t know why, but I put my hand on the back of Cory’s head. Not hard, not like, pushing into his mouth, but just running my fingers through his hair. It felt … right somehow. I whispered just a little yeah, and my shaft started to throb. Waves of pleasure washed through me as my knees really started to give up, but I didn’t topple over. Cory shut his eyes and drank down every drop of my cum. Not one escaped onto the carpet. Cory licked the length of my cock, just as he had done with Andy, as he finished.
I looked over and Eric was transfixed, watching this. I think if he hadn’t just cum, he’d be rock-hard and ready again. All three of us boys were breathing hard, and, satisfied, we put our pajamas back on. Each of us took a turn in the bathroom, and Cory brushed his teeth. I climbed in bed behind Eric, the big spoon to his little spoon.
Cory came out of the bathroom, saw us there, and simply said “g’night guys,” and clicked off the light.
I woke up a couple of times in the night, and Eric and I shifted positions a little, but we woke up with Eric half on top of me, his thigh against my morning wood. He was thick but not fully erect, or so it felt, and when he woke up he gave me a little kiss. “Sorry, morning breath,” I whispered. Eric gave me another kiss, as if to say he didn’t care. We both looked over at Cory, and then the clock. It was still early, and Cory was still asleep. Eric slid on top of me the whole way, and we pulled down our shorts. We did it quickly and silently, our breath even, no sound even when we both came.
We grinned at each other, pleased that we had perfected the silent dry-hump. We pulled up our shorts, used our pajamas to clean up a little, and settled into the spoon that we had fallen asleep in. My arm draped over Eric, and idly toyed with his nipples and belly button a little while we waited for Cory to wake up.
When he did, the three of us took turns showering, and dressed in our Sunday clothes. For Mr. Davis, Sunday was a workday, so Sunday breakfast was a kind of granola bar filled with jam (which I had never had before), some orange juice, and a piece of toast. We piled into Mrs. Davis’ minivan, and were off to the church.
You couldn’t miss the church, with its giant sign visible from the freeway. Parking was an informal affair, on a patch of unpaved land next to the sanctuary. I remember that there were a lot of trucks parked.
“You boys go say hi to everyone,” Mrs. Davis said, and she and her husband went inside. It was a cold New Year’s Eve morning, and everyone could see their breath in the quad between the sanctuary and the preschool.
“Hi Cory,” we heard a voice say behind us, and the three of us turned. It was Lauren, Cory’s … girlfriend? Eric and I looked at each other. Maybe we’d figure that out.
“Oh, hi Lauren,” Cory said. “How are you? Happy new year.”
“Happy new year … nice to see you again, it was Eric and …?” Lauren asked.
“Bobby,” I said. “Nice to meet you, I don’t think we ever met really.”
“Nice to meet you too,” she said, and then turned to Cory. “My mom’s singing today,” she added.
“Oh, that’s great, I’m glad she’s feeling better,” Cory said.
“Yeah, me too. OK, well, see you inside,” Lauren said, gave us a little wave, and headed off.
The look on Eric’s and my face asked the question that Cory was probably hoping to avoid. “We haven’t really been seeing each other at all this year. Her mom got cancer, but she’s better now. That plus the whole thing with Andy and the bus at the end of last year … we just kind of drifted apart. We’re still friends,” he said, sounding somewhat down about it.
“Are you OK?” Eric asked.
“Yeah! Yeah, I mean …” Cory sighed. “I’m not sure I was ready for a girlfriend, to be honest. I’m still not sure I’m ready. It was fun for a little while, but, I —”
The public address system clicked on and Mrs. Davis’ voice invited everyone inside the sanctuary, as the service would be starting. Cory looked relieved that he didn’t have to complete his thought about what he really wanted, I guess, romantically speaking.
Inside the sanctuary was an enormous stage and ascending seating like in a theater. It seemed really … contemporary, for lack of a better word. The church I went to with my grandma was old and drab. This church had lots of wood and glass, and everything was lit like a rock concert.
And it was a rock concert, partly, Eric was right. There was a band on stage with a guitar, bass, and two or three vocalists, including Lauren’s mom. The songs seemed fresh and new compared to the old hymns in the green hymnals at Grandma’s church. Every time we were asked to stand and bow our heads in prayer, we were also asked to hold hands with our neighbor. I held hands with Eric and a woman I didn’t know who was sitting next to me. Mr. and Mrs. Davis were up on the wings of the stage.
A few of the assistant pastors read announcements, and there was an overhead projector off to the right of the stage. They passed the collection plate, and my mom had given me some money to put in it, but we were instructed specifically, as guests, that we shouldn’t give any money. Eric and I looked at each other and shrugged a little, and just passed the plate down our row as it came by.
Mr. Davis’ big sermon began as a reflection on the year at the church. They had two missions, one to Belize and another to Africa, and one of the assistant pastors put photos up on the overhead projector as he spoke. He was buoyant and proud of the work they accomplished, and he gave some statistics about their congregation and the ways it had grown over the last year. Births, deaths, marriages, new staff members and volunteers. As someone who wasn’t part of the church, it impressed me a little at just how much they kept track of everyone and how their families grow and change.
The tone shifted, though, as Mr. Davis began to talk about the upcoming year. He mused that it might be a little early to start thinking about, but there was an election coming up, and he was concerned about the direction the country was going in. He was alarmed about what he called “popular culture” taking over the role of the church, with values that were incompatible with church teachings. I was kind of tuning out, until he said:
It is to the church we should look for guidance. Look not to the movie star to tell us how to act. Look not to the rapper to tell us how to resolve disputes. Look not to the homosexual to tell us how to raise a family. Look not to these false prophets, because they will lead us away from Christ, and away from the rewards of the Almighty.
Later in life I would muse that it was a miracle that this moment was the first time, but as soon as he spat the word homosexual, I felt suddenly that I was in an unsafe place. Partly because of the way he said it, but mostly because of the affirmative reaction of the congregation. A chill went down my spine, and I tried to not react, to maintain the façade of slight boredom that I had on my face just moments before.
I was polite, I kept myself together, but I was relieved when Mrs. Davis piled us in the car to take us home. Mr. Davis had to stay at church for his men’s group meeting, and Mrs. Davis would return later for her women’s Bible study. Cody talked nonstop. “Dad’s sermon was so good,” he said, although I wondered if Cody was just reacting to the intensity of the speech, and not really the social-political statements his dad was making. “It wasn’t about boring Bible stuff, it felt really relevant.”
“Your dad worked really hard on that sermon,” Mrs. Davis said. “He’s really worried about the shape the country will be in if Bill Clinton wins again.”
Shockingly, Cory agreed. “Dad’s right about that. Dad’s right about everything.”
Eric and I looked at each other. We wanted to hold hands, if only to comfort one another, but didn’t dare. Mrs. Davis dropped us both off in front of Eric’s house. We thanked her for hosting the sleepover, and for inviting us to church. She reminded the both of us that we were welcome any Sunday at church, and hoped she would see us there again. We said our goodbyes to Cody and Cory, and we slid shut the Previa’s door.
Eric mumbled “not likely,” just loud enough that I could hear.