Date: Sat, 31 Dec 2022 12:45:40 +0000 From: awb_1971 Subject: Joshua and Jason, Chapter Two All the usual disclaimers apply. The following story is based on personal experience, although lightly fictionalised, and contains explicit descriptions of sexual activity between young boys. READ NO FURTHER if you are under the age of eighteen or offended by such material. I am using this as a safe place to revisit memories of my own burgeoning sexuality. I do not condone in any way the sexual exploitation of minors. Please donate to nifty.org (https://donate.nifty.org). It is the only way to keep this site up and running. Any feedback, and if you want to read more of my adventures with my friends, contact me at awb_1971@protonmail.com Joshua and Jason Chapter Two Jason headed home, his still damp shirt clammy against his chest after it had been hastily sponged down. He was smiling, provoking the occasional odd look from passers-by. But he didn't care. He was happy. His mum and dad were home when he got back. They were rowing in the kitchen about something. Jason, used to raised voices and slammed doors, paid no attention, and headed straight up to his room. He lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling, still smiling slightly. As Jason thought more about what had happened, his smile started to fade. What the hell had he done? He had kissed a boy. His best friend, who had kissed back, yes, but still, he had kissed a boy. Not a girl. He started to think he should not have kissed a boy. Or got into any of the stuff that followed. His cock twitched slightly at the memory, but Jason fought his thoughts away from Joshua's hand wrapped around him, massaging him to climax, tongue exploring his mouth. His dick twitched again, more urgently. Why was that? His genitals seemed wired wrong. They should twitch for Claire, or Caroline, or some other girl with big tits. That's what all the boys talked about. Big titties. James's stiffy started to subside at the thought of Claire and her giggle and her pink bag and her thick ankles. Jason willed himself to get hard again at the thought of Claire. But Joshua's face smiling at him, the memory of his lips kept resurfacing, overlaying any girlie fantasies he was trying to create. It was probably a passing thing. Give it a while, he'll switch to girls. He'll wake up one day and find tits and `minge' as the other boys called it, as attractive as the other boys did. It was fun with Joshua, but a bit childish really. Nothing very serious. Practice. Yeah, that was it, practice. After dinner with his frostily non-speaking parents, Jason headed back to his room, and after getting through his homework (maths: he should have asked Joshua to help with that, not mucked about like they had) he went to bed. He focused hard on Claire, trying to imagine her tits and her fanny as he tried to wank. But it didn't help. Joshua's face drifted back, Joshua's hand reached down and took his cock, replacing Jason's frantic hand. Jason could feel Joshua's hot breath on his face, the memory of his body pressed into him, as his dick finally responded to the imagery and memory, throwing cum up his chest for the second time that day. Conflicted, even a bit worried, Jason cleaned up with a discarded pair of pants, dropping them back onto the floor where he found them, and fell uneasily asleep. On waking the following morning Jason decided that when he met Joshua as normal on the way to school, he would talk to him, explain that it had been fun, but that that he wanted to wait for girls to become exciting, and then start seeing one of them. Joshua would always be a mate, a best of mates, a really good friend, but that they shouldn't repeat...stuff. Joshua would nod, agreeing with this sensible approach. It was a one-off, a hormone thing. An experiment. Practice for the real thing. Not to be repeated, or spoken, of again. Mrs Coulter opened the door, smiled and said `Come in. He's nearly sorted.' Joshua was as usual juggling blazer, bag, and marmaladed toast. How Joshua got to school without marmalade all over him was a wonder to his mother. Joshua glanced up as Jason headed down the hall to the kitchen and smiled at him. Oh god, that smile. That beautiful, open, happy smile. That smile that lit the dark-haired boy up like a lamp, eyes shining and small perfect white teeth glinting as his soft lips parted. Involuntarily Jason smiled back, unable to help himself. Joshua glanced around, saw his mum was not in view and dashed over to Jason, kissing him softly on the cheek. Jason jerked back and stiffened instantly. `Bloody hell Joshua' he whispered, 'What if your mum saw?' Joshua shrugged `She won't. She's in the front room.' He looked at Jason. There was a pause. `Aren't you going to kiss me back?' Jason's eyes widened in horror. `God, no!' Joshua stepped back, a little hurt by such a blunt dismissal. `Your mum might come back' mumbled Jason by way of explanation. `Better be quick then' smirked Joshua. Struggling with the right thing to do, Jason, watched by the puzzled, and now slightly hurt Joshua, was saved by the sound of Mrs Coulter's voice. `You boys are going to be late for school!' Jason turned and headed towards the door. Joshua followed slowly after, worried by Jason's reactions. As they walked to school Joshua in unaccustomed silence, Joshua, almost jogging to keep up with Jason's determined striding, asked, `What's up with you?' Jason muttered `What do you think?' Joshua grabbed Jason's arm and stopped, forcing Jason to stop as well. `I don't know Jason. You tell me.' A flash of annoyance in his dark eyes matched a hardened tone in his speech. `You know.' `No, I don't. Tell me.' `You know, stuff.' `Stuff?' Jason nodded. `You mean yesterday?' Jason nodded again. `I thought we had fun.' `Well, yeah, it was.' `So what's the problem.' `You're a boy.' `So are you!' `Well, that's the thing.' `Thing?' `Problem.' `Is it? Not for me.' Jason turned to look at Joshua, staring at him as if he saw him for the first time. 'What the fuck do you mean by that?' `I don't like girls. I told you that.' Joshua looked away. `I didn't think you did either.' `I like girls!' `Not what you said yesterday.' `No, I mean, I will like girls, you know, properly.' `When?' `I dunno, sometime.' He paused. `So should you.' `Should? What the fuck do you mean by that?' `I mean you should like girls, not boys!' `Well, I don't and I do!' he took a deep breath and in a quieter tone added, `I like you!' An uncomfortable silence descended. `And I thought you liked me too' he continued, even more quietly. They had started to shout, he realised. `Yeah, as a mate. We've always been mates.' Joshua shook his head. `No you fucking moron, not just as a mate. Don't you get it? Fuckin' hell, I...I...I...' he stuttered into silence. `You what? What? You fucking what?' `Nothing, okay, nothing. Forget it.' Joshua started to walk towards school, this time Jason followed. He couldn't help thinking about Joshua's unfinished sentence. He what? What? Fancied him? Or worse? Trailing along a few yards behind, Jason made his troubled way to school. It was one of those days where the different streams they were in meant Joshua and Jason did not share any lessons. They met at breaks, finding it difficult to avoid each other then, but just stood around, saying nothing to each other. Claire came over during lunchbreak to hang around as normal. Observing their silence, glancing between the two sullen expressions, she tactlessly enquired `You two had a row or what?' Jason glared at her and stomped off, joining in with a kick around with other boys, kicking their ball so hard it hit Kevin in the stomach, leaving him gasping for breath, red in the face as the other boys laughed at him and punched Jason on the shoulder in congratulation. He looked around to see if Joshua was watching, not realising that was what he was doing. But he wasn't there. Jason deflated a little at this, and quickly lost heart in the kick-around, drifting off to a quiet corner of the yard, the one he and Joshua had often headed to, talking and laughing. But today it was empty, silent and cheerless. Jason stood there, its emptiness feeling somehow right, even if he did not understand why. The following day was Saturday, so no school. Jason hung around the house, unwilling to go out. `What you doin' in?' asked his mum. `Why don't you get out from under my feet?' His dad, spread fatly on the sofa looked up from the Daily Mail said `Look at him. He's moping. Been dumped by a girl `ave ya? Boo hoo, boo hoo, nobody loves me!' screwing up his face in a parody of upset. He laughed and turned back to his paper, missing his son's shaking his head. His mum laughed. `Wos her name?' she asked. Jason shook his head, annoyed at such an unanswerable question. `Well, you wanna get a proper girlfriend you know. Don't want people thinking you're a queer.' `Wot, a West `Am supporter? You `avin' a laugh? No son o' mine is a queer. Like footie and girls too much, don'tya son? Nah, `es not a queer.' All said without looking up from the latest lip-quivering outrage reported by the paper in the public interest. Queer. The word had struck Jason like a slap in the face. Queers: a terrible group of saddos that the Daily Mail was always warning us about. They were sad and furtive men who hung around toilets and schools. They were in control of the media, and would soon run the country from behind the scenes. They were filthy queers. Jason felt rooted to the spot, frozen. His parents remained oblivious to him, as usual, and for once he was grateful. He headed upstairs, got his football out of the cupboard, and headed off out. He made for the park where there was a group of boys from the school hanging about on the pitch, including Kevin who he had winded yesterday. Jason bounced the ball on the ground and the boys quickly divided into two rough teams and play ensued. Jason enjoyed himself hugely. He loved running with the ball, dodging past defenders and heading for goal. He crashed into a few defenders, and there were some tackles that sent him flying into the mud that would have been a red card in regular football. But this wasn't regular football, this was teenage tribal warfare, tribes chosen arbitrarily, but then implacably opposed to each other. No referee, no whistles, no rules. One of the boys tried to disallow a goal as offside but was roundly told to Fuck Off by both teams. As the game continued Jason saw a familiar figure entering the park. His dark hair and his very upright way of walking were unmistakeable to Jason. He tore his eyes away to concentrate on the game, but found his eyes flicking back to the solitary figure walking slowly across the park. `Watch it, you fuck!' shouted a team mate. Jason's attention snapped back to the game just in time to see, but not to dodge, a ball heading towards him at head height. It smacked him squarely on the face, knocking him backwards. His nose and lip hurt, he noticed, as he lay on the damp grass, staring at the sky. `You alright?' came a distant voice. Jason wasn't sure who the question was for, so didn't answer. He felt a trickle of something run down his cheek. He lifted a hand and wiped it away. It was sticky. He looked at his hand, which had a streak of red on it. Where had that come from? He wasn't sure. He wiped under his nose, wincing a little at the pain. His hand had a fresh streak of red on it. Blood. His blood. Oh. The other boys came over and stared at him. `You fucking prick. You should have headed it.' There was a murmur of assent; Jason was a prick. He looked up at the sea of faces, some grinning at him, some slightly annoyed at the halt in the game. `You're bleedin' like a pig' observed one boy helpfully. Jason wiped again and observed another fresh streak of blood. He tasted blood on his tongue from the cut lip and could feel it swelling up. Jason continued to lie on the grass, oddly content to do so. Ever since Friday morning Joshua had been trying hard not to cry. Big boys don't cry, he told himself. But Jason had pulled away from him when he had gone to kiss him on the cheek, stiffened, scared. He loved Jason, he knew, with his pale blond hair, greyish eyes and uncertain smile. Jason did not have much to smile about, he knew. His parents were, frankly, a bit shit, Joshua thought. Fat dad who worked occasionally, mum who seemed to regard Jason as something of a nuisance, something unavoidable she had to put up with. She didn't see Jason as Joshua did, a shining light, loyal, funny, good-looking. Sexy. Joshua knew he was attracted to boys not girls, and had known this for a while. He had realised a few weeks before, during a particularly lurid wank, that he wanted Jason as more than just a friend, he wanted him as a boyfriend. And it wasn't just sex, although he was definitely wanting to try some stuff out, based on some magazines he had found in his father's shed. They were of men and girls, but he figured that he could do most stuff he saw in these pictures anyway. He liked looking at the men, big and hairy, with enormous pricks. The girls he found unsettling, unpleasant. The photos of their `hairy cunts' as the magazines called them, repelled him. They looked like some kind of horrible accident, a terrible mistake. But the pricks and hairy balls of the men, and the occasional shot that included their bums clenching as they stuck their cocks into the hairy cunts piqued Joshua's interest. Women's bottoms were big, shapeless things, all fat and wobbly. Most unappealing. An article in one of the magazines, a letter from a `busty wife' detailed all the things he was drawn to. She explained in her letter that her husband seemed to like the things that Joshua liked: big hairy balls and thick pricks. He said he liked her cunt too, and her fat breasts. Was he a queer? she enquired. The reply explained that he was most likely bisexual, and that she should encourage him to bring guys back, that she could have twice the dick. Joshua had to furtively look up bisexual in the dictionary at home. This was a revelation. It wasn't just boys and girls, but it could be more. Boys and boys and girls. This led him to homosexual. It could be just boys. No girls. He realized this fitted him. That he was a homosexual. That he liked cocks and balls, he liked boys and tight bottoms, and he didn't like minge and tits and big wobbly fat arses. Jason had always been a friend like no other. They had been close for so long Joshua had barely noticed it. But now he knew. He loved him. And Jason had at first accepted him, then just as swiftly rejected him. Morose, fighting back tears of anger and of grief, emotions his 14-year-old brain was barely able to deal with, Joshua had descended into a world of despair. A world without Jason central in his life. A world without purpose or meaning. He had headed out at the request of his mother who thought Joshua needed taking out of himself. She was an astute woman who had observed the friendship between her son and the boy from down the road as it had developed over the years. Joshua was unusually quiet on Friday evening, after having been brimming over with happiness on just the previous evening. And Jason hadn't come round on Saturday morning to go into town with him, like they always did. Mrs Coulter had her suspicions and watched her dark son carefully. His being gay was always looking likely. He was what was called a 'sensitive child', which just meant open to other's emotions and being considerate. Bookish, academic rather than sporty, she has always been amused by his relationship with Jason, who was sporty but decidedly not academic. Opposites attract, she thought unguardedly to herself. Oh. Mrs Coulter smiled inwardly and awaited the inevitable tsunami of teenage angst and tearful confessions of `not like other boys' with patience and a slight amusement. As long as Joshua was happy, that was all that mattered. Happiness was so fleeting, or had been in her case. Joshua's father had died in a random car accident on the way home from work just four years before. His photo on the side had the same dark patient eyes of her son, and he had the same smile. She would wait. But now the awaited crisis was perhaps finally due. Joshua was morose, monosyllabic, and his eyes betrayed the possibility of tears. `Go out for a walk,' she suggested to the heap of teenage gloom under the duvet at 10:30 in the morning. `It'll make you feel better.' Joshua grumpily had agreed to go out, but more to avoid what he suspected was about to be a barrage of constant pestering by his mum than anything else. He found his feet had taken him to the park without his brain being overly involved. Boys were playing football and he could hear the supportive comments they made drifting across the field, `kick it you cunt!' `sack the goalie!' `over `ere, on the `ead!' `Fucks sake!' He walked slowly onwards. He heard the cry `Watch it, you fuck!' called with more intensity than the usual comments. There was a loud thud as leather hit flesh, followed by another as a player hit the floor. He glanced over to see a boy lying motionless on the ground. The other boys had stopped and had headed over to the prone figure. Joshua stopped too, wondering if the boy was alright. He wasn't moving. The other boys stood were around him, not helping, calling him a prick. Joshua thought he should see if he could help, having done a bit of first aid at school. He pushed his way into the ring of boys staring down at the figure and saw for himself. At first he saw the split lip and the bloody nose, then, a beloved face emerging from the torn mask, he saw it was Jason. His heart jumped, and forgetting all the pain and hard words, he leant down to Jason. `You alright?' Jason nodded, not recognising the voice or face yet. `Can you get up?' `I reckon.' `Come on then.' Joshua reached out to Jason who grasped Joshua's arm and pulled himself unsteadily up with his help. He swayed a little, but Joshua caught him round the waist to stop him falling again. The other boys stood back as Joshua steadied him. Jason glanced at his rescuer and saw who it was. In his slightly stunned state, he felt comforted by the sight of his friend. All his fear and concern from before evaporated as he drew support from him. `Look at the fucking state of you!' exclaimed Joshua. `Come on, I'll get you back to my place and we'll look at that nose and lip.' Jason nodded and the two boys, Joshua's arm wrapped around him holding him up, set off slowly for Joshua's home. The other boys turned away, and carried on their game, no need to concern themselves with Jason's fate. They were one player down, but they had kept Jason's ball for the game. `Kick it you arsehole!' `Pass it, pass it!' The calls faded as Joshua and Jason walked slowly away. Joshua, his arm wrapped around the boy he loved tried to fight back tears yet again, different ones this time. `Come on,' he squeezed Jason slightly, who winced with an emerging bruise from hitting the dirt. `Yeah, thanks' he replied. `You're the best.' A slow tear escaped from Joshua's eye and ran unchecked down his cheek.