The Root Beer Boys

Part II

By Dan

Chapter Two - Tanner's Diary

I don't really know much about my Dad's side of the family, so I don't know what my ancestry is. But it must have something to do with the lack of body hair, 'cause I don't have much. I mean, I was 15 when I met Brian the first time and I had practically no hair anywhere. A little peach fuzz on my legs and arms, a thin little patch of pubes just above my uh huh, and nothing on its friends. I wasn't shaving yet and still don't. But Brian wasn't shaving then either. We're very similar that way.

I've known I was gay since I was about 13, I guess, but I never had a chance to prove it to myself until I met Brian. I know I've always liked to look at cute boys, even when I was little. I have always enjoyed looking at their crotch when they just have undies or bathing suits on and guessing what they look like for real. But I never let myself look for very long when we were in the showers after swimming for fear I'd get a boner. Fortunately we don't have to take showers after Phys Ed.

I was always afraid of my boners until I got to Junior High School. I used to get a checkup every year before going to camp, and I'd worry that I'd pop a stiffy when the doctor did that thing where he puts his hand in my crotch and asks me to cough.

That isn't to say that I didn't enjoy 'em. I'm circumcised, and I've always been glad. I think my uh huh looks neat, hard or soft. And it has always felt good to get a boner and slide it up and down on the sheets at night. But enough of that stuff. Now for the diary.

- November -

I went to my first gay/straight alliance meeting this month. Pastor Pete knows I'm gay and suggested I go. They're held close enough to the house that I can walk, so it's easy enough to get there without having to ask Mom to drive me.

I wasn't too sure how to act since I'd never been on a date or anything. I mean, I'm pretty good at talking to people, but this was different somehow. Most of the people there knew each other and already had something in common. So I just sort of stood back in the shadows and watched what was going on.

As I looked around the room, my eyes soon fell on this one particular kid. At first I just sort of passed over him, 'cause he seemed to be interested in somebody else. But on the second pass, I stopped and really looked. He seemed to be about my age, and it was pretty obvious he was new there. He must have been as nervous as I was, too, because twice people tried to draw him into conversation but didn't stay with him very long.

As I watched him watching somebody else, I really started to notice things. He had short brown hair and a slender build. His hands seemed to be soft and gentle, but I was a long way away. But the way they just laid in his lap gave me the impression they would be fun to hold. I couldn't see what color his eyes were from that distance, but I could tell he didn't have to fight acne like so many kids our age. I'm sure glad I don't have any pimples either.

I was getting really nervous, almost disappointed, about him staring at some other kid when I realized he was looking at Travis Madison. I was surprised at how my heart kind of skipped a beat right then. I hadn't realized I was that interested in him until then. But I was glad it was Travis he was looking at for two reasons. First, it told me he was gay. Second, I knew Travis was straight. He goes to their school, but he attends the same church I do.

Before I could work my way over to him, though, closing time had arrived and Dad Dan was sending us all home. I stood outside in the dark and watched him leave with Andy and Wayne and Dad Dan. I promised myself I would meet him at the next meeting.

I made sure I got to the next meeting early so I could check out the new kid when he got there. I could tell he was looking for Travis so I went over to him.

"Hi. Looking for anyone in particular?" I said to his back as I laid my hand on his arm. I'm all the time doing that, touching people when I speak to them.

He turned to me with a startled look on his face. His arm jerked a little, but he didn't pull it completely away. I was glad he didn't, too, 'cause his arm felt really nice. He wasn't a big-boned person either, more like me, actually. And his eyes! I never saw eyes like that before. Gorgeous simply doesn't do them justice. Light brown with little gold flecks in them. As he looked into my eyes, I just swam in his. I even felt my heart skip a beat. He wasn't what you might call drop-dead gorgeous, but he was cute. And those eyes! Wow!

"Oh... uh, hi... uh, yeah. I was looking for Travis."

He seemed nervous, even more than me. I liked that. It gave me an edge. But as he turned more in my direction, his arm slipped out of my hand. Darn!

"Oh. He's one of them, ya know."

"One of whom?"

"Str8t. He's str8t."

"Oh. And you're not?"

Read me like a book, huh? Nope, of course not, I'd just referred to str8t people as them hadn't I.

"Nope. I'm gay. Figured you were too when I saw who you were scoping out."

"Oh... uh... I didn't realize I was that obvious. So you were here last week too? How come I didn't see you?"

"Yeah. I was here last week. You probably missed me because I was standing over there in the shadows, scoping somebody out myself."

"Oh yeah? Who? If uh... if you don't mind my asking, I mean."

"You."

"Me?"

"Yeah, you. You wanta get somethin' to drink?"

He seemed a little unsure of how to react, but I could see a grin beginning to form on his lips. Nice lips they were, too.

"Sure, a 7-Up would be great."

So I grabbed his hand and pulled him to his feet. I didn't let go as we started across the room to the drinks table, but as we got about half-way there, I felt him pull his hand from mine. I didn't try to stop him. I mean, we were both treading a little softly. I didn't know about him, but I'd never approached another boy like this before, so I was almost as nervous as he seemed to be.

We grabbed some drinks and then spent the rest of the night standing around watching everybody else. I tried to keep a conversation going, but he wasn't much of a talker. Actually, it was like pulling teeth to get him to say much of anything. This kid was really shy.

I guess that's the way these meetings are supposed to go. Nobody pressuring anybody else to say or do something specific. It was kinda nice just being quiet with the guy. I think I caught him looking at me a couple of times when he wasn't expecting me to, and I'm pretty sure he caught me doing the same thing. At least I know I was doing it, so I figure he must of noticed after awhile.

As I was walking home after the meeting it suddenly dawned on me that I hadn't even asked him his name. Then I realized I hadn't told him my name either. I can't believe that! Talk about country bumpkins. How are we gonna get to know each other if neither of us has sense enough to get a name?

Noticing all the lights on and music blaring out of the open windows, I wondered which boyfriend my mom had over that night. I really didn't want to see whoever it was so I climbed the tree outside my bedroom window and just sat there for about an hour. I knew they'd be humping each other before too long and I could go in without being noticed.

Sure enough, within less than an hour the lights went out. I waited another fifteen minutes before climbing down and going inside. It was at times like this that I wished we had a bigger house, like maybe a two story or something. As soon as I flushed the commode or brushed my teeth they'd know I was there, but it never made any difference. They just ignored me and went on about their business. Gross. Noisy.

All the time I was sitting in that darn tree I was thinking about whatsisname. And the more I thought about him, the more uncomfortable I got. I mean, have you ever tried to sit on a tree branch with a hardon? Of course not! You're just my diary. There's just no way you can adjust yourself and get comfortable. But it wouldn't go away no matter how uncomfortable I got.

So of course I was more than ready to take matters into my own hands as I climbed into bed with my special towel and a bottle of hand lotion. I always do my own laundry, so I'm not worried about Mom finding either of those things in my room. She never comes in here.

I didn't even bother putting on my shorts. I was rock hard the whole time I was in the bathroom and Willy was swinging in the breeze as I pulled off my socks and threw everything in the hamper. I crawled into bed and immediately poured lotion over the head of my dick. Then I started stroking it as I thought about this guy I had just met a few hours before.

It was strange really. Usually when I beat off, I'm thinking about some guy's dick. Maybe a celebrity or somebody at school or even a faceless stranger. But this time I was just thinking of whatsisname's face, his short hair, his timid smile. I thought about how shy he seemed to be, the brightness of his teeth when he smiled, the sound of his voice, and the little bit of peach fuzz on his upper lip.

I pictured the way he looked at me when he first turned around, the feel of his skin when I touched his arm, the aroma that I could smell when I stood close to him. As I kept thinking, I kept stroking, and it seemed to feel better than it ever had before. I went fast, I went slow. I slid my hand up over the mushroom head of my circumcised hardon and squeezed it tight on the way back down.

Pretty soon I was humping my hand like there was no tomorrow and cum was shooting out all over the place. Most of it hit the towel, but some fell on the sheet. Shit! Now I'm gonna have a wet spot. I HATE wet spots. And I'm gonna have to wash the sheets tomorrow too, I thought to myself as I cleaned up and slid the towel back under the bed.

I fell asleep looking into his awesome light brown eyes with the gold flecks, telling myself that I needed to ask him what that color was called and wondering what he was thinking about right then.

... to be continued