Date: Tue, 22 Dec 2015 22:39:51 -0800 From: Douglas DD DD Subject: Rough Edges Chapter 37 Welcome back to another chapter. The moment of truth as finally come for Larry and Phil. To decide how he will handle the big question, Larry takes a long look at his past. Please give to the Nifty Archive. Always be safe. Let me know your thoughts on the story. I answer all emails. Douglas. thehakaanen@hotmail.com CHAPTER 37 THE PROPOSAL "Really, they should get married," I told my best friend as we lolled naked on the ultra-sex bed. "Fuck yeah, they should," he replied. "Hell, they should already be married." Hurricane Jeffrey and I had just finished a round of stormy sex. I was the top if you think you need to know. I was fifteen and had just finished my sophomore year. Jeffrey was fourteen and just finished his freshman year. So, yeah, we're old enough to be lovers and young enough to fuck just about any time we want to. We've been doing it together since we were preteens. Everybody calls me Nick now instead of Nicky. Well, not everybody – my mom still calls me Nicky a lot of the time even though she knows I don't like it. And when she's really pissed at me she calls me Nicholas. But she's my mom and I love her to death so I don't say anything. Jeffery calls me Nicky now and then just to give me shit – so I call him Jeffy to give shit back to him. We were talking about Coach Sanders and Coach Miller, of course. Coach Miller is our coach for the summer, but Coach Sanders is the head coach of the high school, so he outranks Coach Miller. "Which one of them do you think is the top?" Jeffrey asked as he rubbed my chest and belly in an attempt to turn me on again. From the look of my rock hard cock, he appeared to be succeeding. "It's gotta be Coach Sanders, since he is the head coach." "Yeah, but it doesn't always work out that way. You and me switch off a lot." "But you're the bottom the most since you love having a big cock up that skinny ass of yours." "I have a nice ass," Jeffrey said indignantly. "Marty tells me that all the time." I leaned over and gave Jeffrey a kiss on the lips. "Yeah right, that's just because he wants to make sure you give it up to him whenever he wants it." Marty had taken Jeffrey's cherry when he was eleven on this very same bed. Jeffrey and I fucked for the first time on this bed. Jeffrey took his brother Sammy's cherry on this bed. I fucked Sammy for the first and only time on this bed while Jeffrey was fucking Sammy's best friend, twelve- year-old Alex, right next to us. Sammy and I fucked thirteen-year-old Lindy Beckett back-to-back on this bed while Jeffrey sat on the floor jerking himself off to three straight cums while he watched us get it on. Sammy was twelve when that happened. My sometime girlfriend Cassidy Ryan watched Jeffrey fuck my ass on this bed while she fucked herself with a dildo. Sammy watched Marty fuck Jeffrey while Eric Simmons fucked me on this bed back when Sammy was eleven. The little horn dog had four dry cums. I could give you a few more examples, but I think you get the idea why this is called the ultra-sex bed. "Should we talk to them and tell them what we think?" Jeffrey asked. "I think we should do that. Let's ride our bikes out there." "I think we should eat first." I pointed to my hard six inch cock. "Oh, hell no. I think we should fuck first." Jeffrey grinned and I rolled over on top of him. Right at that moment twelve- year-old Sammy sauntered in wearing nothing but a pair of boxers. His little three inch piece of boy meat was sticking out proudly through the opening. "Are you guys gonna stay in bed and fuck all day?" he asked sarcastically. "Not a bad idea, bro," Jeffrey grinned, "but we got shit to do." "Okay if I join in?" Sammy asked in his lilting boy soprano. "Since when are you all eager to mess around with guys?" I asked as I lined up my cock with Jeffrey's ass. Sammy stepped out of his boxers and was now totally naked. "Since Mary Taylor wouldn't put out last night at Rory's party." "You mean your charms couldn't get her into bed?" "It was more like she was so drunk and stoned she couldn't get up off the couch to do it." "Wouldn't that be a good time to take advantage of the situation?" Sammy shook his head. "That is so wrong. I'm not that way—you don't do that to people." "So what did you do?" I asked "Sat next to her on the couch, pulled my pants down, and started jerking off, at least until Rory came by and blew me." "Well, you at least got something," Jeffrey said. "Ain't the same as fucking a cute girl, or fucking anybody for that matter. Sometimes I think not drinking and drugging at parties isn't worth it—I might have got something if I'd been fucked up." Jeffrey raised his voice. "Sammy...," he said threateningly. "I know," he said contritely, "I learned my lesson. But, hell, I can still dream, right?" Sammy's encounter with booze and weed at a party is an entire story in itself. He was lucky we were around to rescue him and keep him out of trouble. "So what do you want to do, little dude?" I asked. "I want to fuck one of you." "And why would two high school studs want to give up their ass to a little preteen straight boy?" "Because I fuck good?" Sammy asked with a smirk. Sammy ended up fucking me while I sucked off Jeffrey. For a little dude with a little boy cock, Sammy does fuck pretty good. But then, he's had lots of practice with girls and boys—mostly girls. He was one of the major studs at the middle school, no question about that. After Sammy had an almost instant orgasm, Jeffrey and I decided to end things with a sixty-nine as little Sammy sat on the edge of the bed watching. I filled Jeffrey's mouth about a minute before he returned the favor. "You guys are a lot of fun," Sammy grinned. "You almost make me want to be queer, but you guys don't got boobs and a wet pussy." "Are you sure you're only twelve?" I asked. "Twelve and sexy." I remember when Sammy was a quiet little boy, modest and unassuming. Now, he seems to resemble his big brother more all the time. "We're gonna shower," Jeffrey said. "There's somebody we want to see." "I'll shower with you." That was a statement, not a request. We didn't have sex in the shower, although Sammy had his seemingly perpetual boner. He went back to the main house after we all dried off, leaving his boxers on the bedroom floor. "Are the coaches going to be home?" I asked Jeffrey as we pulled our bikes out of the storage shed. "It's Saturday, where else are they going to be?" For as smart as he is, Jeffrey can be pretty dumb at times. "Well, if they aren't home, we'll still get a good bike ride out of it." It turns out they were home. Coach Sanders answered the door. I know he was surprised to see us, but I think he was kinda happy to see us too. "Well, good afternoon, gentlemen. This is a pleasant surprise." See, I told you he was surprised and happy. Jeffrey and I agreed that I would do the talking. "Hi coach. Glad you're home. Is Coach Miller home too?" "Yes he is. What can we do for you two miscreants?" "We're here to be good," I assured him. I knew what a miscreant was—I mean I was a straight A student for a reason. "Well, come on in and be good, then." Coach offered us some lemonade, which we accepted. Coach Miller came in and we talked some baseball until Coach Sanders asked what it was we were really here to talk about. The dude does have a way on calling us on our bullshit. "We wanted to talk about both of you," I told the coaches. "We have something we need to tell you." "And what would that be?" Coach Miller asked. I looked over at Jeffrey. It was his turn to talk now; the Hurricane was never shy about saying what he thought. "Nick and I think it's time you two got married, and we're not the only ones who think that." Coach Sanders gave us what I think people call an amused look. "Indeed. And are you two the official spokesmen on the subject?" "Nope, but we're telling you what people are saying." "And just why would our marital status be anybody's business?" "Because, coach, we got lots of gay guys on our team and at our school. You guys keep telling us to be proud of who we are and to never be afraid of what people think." "You think we're afraid?" Coach Miller asked. "Yes, we do," I said. I gotta admit I was really nervous. I mean Coach Sanders was right, this really was none of our business. Our coaches could end up hating us for what we were saying, although I was sure they weren't like that or I wouldn't have come here. "Why?" Coach Sanders asked. He didn't appear to be mad—in fact he seemed to be really interested in what we were saying. "Well, we hear things. And why else wouldn't you do it?" "Yeah," Jeffrey chimed in. "You guys have been boyfriends since you were like in middle school." "You guys can show us that it's okay to go all the way." It was my turn to talk. "That shows us we have nothing to be afraid of in any way." Then it was Jeffrey's turn. "You don't know how we look up to you, and if you get married you've shown us how proud you are." "We appreciate your trusting us enough to share your feelings with us," Coach Sanders told us. "You gave Coach Miller and me some things to think about." "We don't want you to think about it," Jeffrey said, "we want you to do it." We talked a little more about other stuff, but Jeffrey and I had said all we really had wanted to say and we didn't stay much longer. The coaches thanked us again for being willing to express our opinion and Jeffrey and I headed back to town on our bikes. We saw Chandler and Korey driving the other way as we crossed the bridge at the end of the lake. They honked and waved, and we waved back. "I think that went pretty good," Jeffrey said when we got to his house. "Well, at least they didn't kill us," I grinned. "Do you think they'll ever do it?" "Maybe, but it won't be because of anything we said." "You never know," Jeffrey said, "you just never know." "I wonder where Chandler and Korey were going." "Only one place I can think of out that way...the coaches' house." It had been quite an afternoon. First two current players, Nick and Jeffrey, came by the house to chat. I knew how serious they were about what they had to say since I tried to discourage players and students from visiting Coach Miller and me. And then, just minutes after the players left, the ex-players showed up. It turns out they had the same subject on their minds. They sat on the swing on the deck holding hands and giving us their thoughts on marriage, courage, and example-setting. "Is this tag team or something?" Phil asked. "Say what?" Korey wondered. "Marriage is the topic that Nick and Jeffrey came to discuss and they presented the same arguments you two gave. When we were at State, some of the alums came up with the same arguments." "Smart boys, all of them," Chandler said. "That explains us seeing Nick and Jeffrey riding their bikes across the bridge. And if you want an adult perspective you could talk to my dad." "I did," I laughed. Chandler's father had talked to me at the all-school district staff picnic about matrimony. "That's what I mean about tag teaming." "I'm amazed Nick and The Hurricane talked to you about it. That's pretty gutsy for a pair of current players." "From Nick and the Hurricane to the Dawg and the Donkey, everybody seems to think they know what's best for us," Phil said. "Somebody has to," Korey grinned. "You guys sure don't seem to." I hadn't even mentioned the heartfelt letter from Eric and Noah that had come in the mail a couple of days ago. In it they reiterated some of the arguments they'd presented in Pasco. After the two young men left Phil and I sat on the same swinging couches they had occupied. "Tell me again why we can't get married?" Phil asked. "I just don't think it would wash in a small town, even one that has been as accepting as Mayfield." "That is no longer a valid argument and you know it." Phil was referring to the phone call I'd received from a large high school in the Seattle area. The athletic director called to inquire about my interest and availability to take over as the head coach and fill a math teaching position. "They didn't seem to think I was good enough when I applied there seven years ago." "Come on Larry, get real. You were a middle school JV coach applying for a head coaching position at a big, prestigious high school with a top flight athletic program. Now you have three state high school championships on your resume. They even remembered you had applied back then." "I was rejected without an interview." "So are you going to hold that against them?" "No, I was probably a naïve young buck back then. I don't blame them." "Do you want that job?" "I'd be crazy not to desire it, but I'm not going to apply for it." I swept my arm to the view off of our deck. "Where am I going to find this kind of peace and happiness? Not in Pugetopolis, that's for sure." "Moving means we have nothing to keep us from getting married," Phil said quietly. "Are you proposing to me?" I grinned. Phil squeezed me tightly and lay his head on my shoulder, his eyes looking up to me, a sly grin on his face. "Yes, I am. Will you marry me, Larry my one and only love?" I kissed the forehead of the man who had been my lifelong lover. I knew what my answer was going to be, even if he didn't. I knew why I was going to answer the way I was, just like I knew what my answer was going to be long before the first time he asked to make love to me. Back then we were so young and so naïve and so horny. After coming up with so many reasons not to go all the way, I realized that real, real sex was what we needed to have to cement our relationship. My only question was whether Phil felt the same way as I did. Since the day we'd come out to each other our lives had changed— changed for the better. We became more comfortable with each other, more comfortable with our friends, and more comfortable with sex. Sometimes our sex was casual, just jerking off or jerking each other off. More often than not we had oral sex, which we both loved. We still played around sexually with our friends, but we saved the really serious stuff for each other. Phil also continued his sexual relations with Troy. Those sessions with his big brother were important to him as they not only had sex, but discussed serious issues in their lives. Their father had left for Texas, leaving his family behind. Even though Keegan wanted to go with him, he was also left behind. Divorce papers had been filed by his mother and my Phil was about to become yet another boy from a broken family. Keegan slipped deeper into the darkness of alcohol and drug addiction. Troy tried some of the same tactics that had worked before, but Keegan rejected him. Troy pleaded for their mother to have him admitted to rehab. While she eventually would, more than once, sobriety never took hold. I had some sexual fun with relatives as well, namely with my two young cousins. As the year started to come to a close and the holidays drew near, the Wonkeys, along with Phil and me, found ourselves in some interesting situations. Still life went pretty much as it had been until November 14, which was Daniel's thirteenth birthday. His birthday was on a Friday, but we had a playoff soccer game the next morning, so party time would be on Saturday afternoon and overnight. The Wonkeys hadn't met as a group at Daniel's house since the summer before sixth grade—although many of us had been there in small groups or individually. Daniel's parents were great to us, but they were older than the other Wonkey parents and liked us better in small groups. But Daniel would only become a teenager once, they decided, so they took the chance that the Wonkeys wouldn't level the house to rubble. Some of us had planned Friday overnights. Phil and Q spent the night with me, Ben celebrated Daniel's actual birthday at Daniel's house, and Tyson spent the night at Jung's house. Perry stayed home because his brother Dean had some of his fifteen and sixteen-year-old friends spending the night, which Perry found enticing. Of course everybody shared their sexual adventures the next day. For Phil, Q, and me there was nothing to report. Our game had started at ten and was a big game. The three of us were convinced that we would have more energy for a game if we were celibate the night before. Sometimes we would have sex the night before a game for purely scientific reasons—we had to test our theory after all. As far as we could tell, having sex or not having sex didn't make much of a difference, but when we had a big game we elected not to test the theory. Such are the minds of twelve-year-olds. Daniel and Ben didn't share our anxiety about sex, and Ben played the bottom for the new teen—twice. Jung and Tyson enjoyed each other as Jung's two younger sisters watched. The older sister, who was now seventeen went to a sleepover at a friend's house. The fifteen-year-old sister watched and participated as Tyson took advantage of the fact that she was on the pill. The nine-year-old was naked and played with herself during the sexual festivities, but was still nervous about participating. Nobody ever made a big deal out of her trepidation. As for Perry, he stayed away from the bong being passed around among his brothers and his friends. "Having a big cock up my ass is what I like," he stated. "Besides, we had a game to play—no way I was going to be fuzzy headed." From what he told us, he took three big cocks up his ass. He didn't show any aftereffects from the three orgasms he enjoyed as he played his usual quick paced game and scored a big goal in our 3-2 win. I know it's hard to believe, but everybody was horny as we gathered together in the basement of Daniel's house, with Phil, Q, and I being the horniest. We were all but assured privacy in the basement as long as we didn't make too much racket. We had the computer on as well as a video game on the television. We wanted to make it look like we were engaged in approved activities instead of allowing our libidos to take control. Since both of Daniel's sisters were away at college, we didn't have to worry about them, although Q thought Daniel's eighteen-year-old sister was "fine." The first thing we did was compare how much we had changed "down there" since the last time we had been together as a group. We'd all been noting the changes, but other than at school and practice we hadn't been together as a group for a while. The big change was the growth of our penises, both soft and hard, and the sprouting of pubic hair. Everyone but Phil, Perry, and I now had hair. Tyson's was dark and curly and thick—it had sprouted in a hurry. Daniel sported a nice bush of dark brown hair while Ben had scattered dark hairs, most of them along the sides of his pubic region. Jung had a thin line of hair along the base of his penis. Although the hairs weren't real thick, they were noticeable. Q had quite a few hairs to the side of his pubic region, and a line of scattered angel hair along the base. The questionable one was Phil, who had peach fuzz growing along the base of his penis. He insisted he had hair, but the rest of us were ready to give him a hard time and insist it needed to be thicker, darker, and longer to be considered real pubic hair. All of us could shoot now. A big part of the evening would be comparing our emissions to see who shot the most, the thickest, and whose cum flew the furthest up our torsos. With that competition in mind, the night became one of solo and mutual masturbation. Things became even more interesting when we decided to see who could cum wet the most times before midnight. For the record, Tyson's was the thickest, Jung shot the most in one orgasm, mine went the farthest as my first shot hit my chin, and Phil's fourth orgasm, which happened at 11:55, broke a tie with Ben for the most orgasms. Also, some cocks found their way into a mouth in an effort to create more orgasms, but the results were shot out in public not in a mouth. I got turned on watching Tyson suck Phil for Phil's orgasm and I shot for my third time right at midnight. Daniel's thirteenth birthday was a great event. His parents allowed us to sleep in and let Daniel skip church that morning, a rarity for him. Because we didn't want to be caught naked in a sleeping bag with another boy, we slept in underpants and t-shirt. That didn't stop Daniel from sleeping with Ben, Phil from sleeping with me, Tyson from sleeping with Q, or Jung from sleeping with Perry, but at least we looked innocent doing it—or so we thought. The two weeks before Thanksgiving flew by. Phil and his family once again had Thanksgiving dinner at our house. My parents loved Phil and Troy, but were leery of Keegan. But then, everybody was leery of Keegan. "Was Keegan on drugs or something?" my mother asked after Phil's family left. "Yes he was," Phil answered instantly. This was the new Phil, the one who was not afraid of the truth, the one who told me he was gay and that I was his boyfriend. "I'm sorry. I saw him toking and was hoping mom would leave him at home." "There is nothing for you to be sorry about, you aren't the one smoking the pot. I take it you and Troy aren't following Keegan's lead." "We've both tried it," Mr. Honest said. "Me more than Troy." "Oh really?" I think mom was trying not to be judgmental, but her voice said otherwise. "Yeah really. I smoked it a lot in sixth grade, but Troy and Larry both helped me see how stupid it was. Well, Keegan helped too, because I learned I don't want to be like him." I was really hoping this conversation wouldn't turn into a disaster. To me it was possible to be too forthright, but right now Phil was on his honesty kick and felt like he had to confess everything. At least he didn't get into his smoking weed in seventh grade, but I'm sure he would have if mom had asked. "And what about you?" she asked me, the "mom look" plastering her face. "I haven't tried it," I said honestly. I'd come close, but so far I was a marijuana virgin. "I take it you have no plans to try it." Mom and dad had talked to me about sex, drugs, and alcohol, so I knew the drill. I think mom did too, since she didn't go into lecture mode. "None." Which was true at that particular time. Mom always seemed to know how far to push a subject. She appeared to be satisfied with our answers, and her next gesture indicated she was more than satisfied. She rose from her chair and beckoned Phil to stand up. She wrapped her arms around him and gave him what I know he craved from his own parents—a big hug. "I just want you to know we love you, Phil. We love you unconditionally." That conversation was a big part of our bedtime chat that night, both before and after we had sex. I chided Phil for being too honest and almost getting me into trouble. "But you didn't get in trouble because you didn't do anything wrong. And if you had smoked weed, I might have been a little less honest so you wouldn't get in trouble. I'd never rat out my boyfriend." That led to some furious kissing followed by even more furious dry-humping followed by our bellies becoming smeared with each other's cum. One of the big pieces of news in early December was Phil winning a county math tournament that was held at Pierce College. Mr. Wainwright was a crackerjack teacher and Phil's talents blossomed under his tutelage. Mr. Wainwright was a teacher I tried to emulate in my own classroom. I also had Mr. Rodman's example of how not to teach to think about as well. Mr. Rodman did not start the year at Evergreen Middle School and I never saw him again until running into him years later at a math conference. In the eyes of Mr. McKay, the principal, and Mrs. Richards, the assistant principal, Phil had become a huge success story. From the boy who was flunking math thanks to his shitty attitude, to the seventh grade winner in the county math tournament, he had without question turned his life around. Either way, I loved my boyfriend with all of my soul. During Christmas break, Phil and I spent a couple of days with Andy and Ross, Andy's newest boyfriend. They'd been together since the start of the school year. "This is the real thing," Andy assured us before Ross arrived. Ross was in eighth grade and had just turned fourteen. "He's really super nice. He plays on the basketball team and leads them in scoring and rebounds. Plus he's totally sexy." "Do people know that you two are like, you know, a couple?" I asked. "Our best friends do." "Are any of those friends on the basketball team?" I asked. "Two of them and they're cool with it. They have girlfriends and everything, but they and Ross used to mess around. Okay, they still do some, but only when I'm messing around with them, too." "Well, be careful," Phil told him. "I love you and I don't want you to be hurt." "I'm good. Nobody will mess with me when Ross is around." "What about next year when he goes to high school?" "Like I said," Andy grinned, "I'm cool." One thing about Andy was that it was hard to shake him up. He had been bullied before and had learned how to recognize it and deal with it—or at least that was what he wanted us to believe. "How about you guys—do your friends know?" "The Wonkeys know and my big brother knows," Phil told him. We had told Andy who the Wonkeys were. Ross ended up being a very cool guy. He was friendly, with a big smile and a great laugh. Andy was right about him being sexy. He had an athlete's body with developing muscles that belied the time he spent working with weights. He had some fuzzy hair on his legs and pecs and the start of a treasure trail down to his bushy pubic area. His thick, cut cock was a solid six inches. Of course we didn't become naked and hard and horny instantly. We played the games and talked the talk most seventh graders did, except that girls weren't a topic of our conversation. But we eventually became ready for sex. I wasn't surprised to see Ross lube up his cock and Andy's white, hairless ass. Andy had told me they were true lovers and that he was the bottom. "I've fucked two girls," Ross told us, "and none of them were as good as my Andy." "Is he the only guy you've fucked?" Phil asked rather undiplomatically. "He's my second. I fucked one of my buddies when we were in seventh grade. We had two friends with us who did it after us. We decided fucking was way too gay and went back to just jerking each other off and giving blow jobs. Then I met Andy, and I wanted to be gay—which is what I guess I am, if not maybe bi." Ross and Andy had met on the Fourth of July weekend at the marina where their dads kept their boats. They hit it off and soon spent time on each other's boat and at each other's house. They went all the way when they spent a night on Ross's boat at the marina. "We did it outside on the deck, too," Andy grinned. "But the boat is moored in a shed." Ross and Andy spent time making out just like Phil and I did. They were both ready and Andy was on his back on his bed, his legs back around his ears. He was a skinny, lithe boy. "I love being the bottom," Andy told us. "I love it when Ross fuck..." "You mean when I make love to you," Ross said. "You and me make love now, we don't fuck." He gave Andy a big kiss. I could tell that Ross truly loved Andy and wasn't a big kid taking advantage of Andy's cute young body. "Yeah," Andy sighed after Ross ended the deep, loving kiss. "We make love." "I can't believe you guys don't do it," Ross said before he shoved his big cock into Andy's little ass. That was the last thing he said before he went to work on his lover. "Oh, yeah, that feels so fucking good," Andy moaned. "It's so good making love." Phil and I kissed and made out and jerked each other's cocks as we watched the two rutting young adolescents fuck, because compared to what I know of making love as an adult, what those two were doing was just out and out wild fucking. We watched Ross rabbit fuck until I lightly shoved Phil to the floor and got on top of him. It wasn't fucking but it was as close to making love as Phil and I got as I dry humped him until we left our sperm over each other's bellies. Andy followed our almost simultaneous orgasm with a no touch cum over his smooth belly and lightly fuzzed pubic area. All that cumming stimulated Ross to fill Andy's ass with his teen cum. When it came time to sleep, we didn't pair up by boyfriend—Phil slept with Andy in Andy's bed and Ross and I slept together in Ross's sleeping bag. Phil and Andy were so determined to not have sex that they slept in their boxers, but they had enough desire to feel each other that they remained shirtless. Ross and I slept nude and played with each other's junk while we chatted. "When are you and Phil gonna fuck?" Ross asked me. "Make love," I reminded him. "Yeah, make love." Ross's voice was the voice of a young teen—no longer boyish but nowhere near the voice of a man. "It just hasn't interested us." I checked my nose to make sure it hadn't grown any. "Liar," Ross scoffed. "You know what me and Andy did turned you on tonight." I didn't disagree. "Maybe we'll do it someday," I mumbled. "Doing it to start the New Year would be cool." New Year's Day was three days away. "I suppose." "Look, dude, I know we just met and I know what you and your boyfriend do in bed is none of my business, but damn, making love is what it's all about." "We like to hump each other. That's what we did tonight. We figure that's like making love." "Humping ain't shit. Fucking is ten thousand times better—maybe a hundred thousand times. Quit being scared of it and do it." I didn't want to argue the point so I didn't say anything. Actually, I couldn't argue the point because I knew he was right. We could tell that Phil and Andy had fallen asleep. Neither one of us talked as we jerked each other off, leaving our cum on ourselves and on the lining of the sleeping bag. The next day was a busy day for the four of us, and that night was busier. We were still horny and set up a daisy chain on the floor of Andy's bedroom. Andy sucked Ross, who sucked Phil, who sucked me, who sucked Andy. I have no idea why Phil and Andy decided not to be sexual with each other, even in the daisy chain. Phil told me later that they wanted to be friends and have the great times they'd had in bed as part of their memories. I told him he was full of bullshit, and he laughed at me. "You're the only person other than my brother who I've loved more than Andy. That's why we decided never to have sex together again." "I call bullshit again. Andy is one sexy dude." "I know...I know." Sometimes Phil was tough to figure out. Okay, Phil was OFTEN tough to figure out. That second night we slept together as boyfriends—Phil with me and Ross with Andy. Before we left Andy's house, he added his two bits on making love. "Do it," he told us. "You won't ever be sorry." Ross and Andy weren't the only ones to prod us on the subject of making love. "You keep talking about real sex," Q told me the next night. I spent the night with him while Phil spent the night with Ben. "Fucking is real sex. I mean I've done it and I'm not even gay. You two are boyfriends, so go get fucked." Phil told me later that Ben had all but seduced him that night. Perry and Jung both talked to us about the wonders of anal sex as well. Talk about getting peer pressure. But then, we were the only Wonkeys with virgin butts. Everybody knew that when Phil and I lost our virginity ("IF we lose it," I reminded them) it would be to each other. Phil spent New Year's Eve at my house and we saw the New Year come in with my parents. When we saw the fireworks explode over the Space Needle on TV, Phil and I hugged each other and then in a "to hell with it" moment we kissed each other—on the lips. We hadn't planned the kiss; it was more of an instinctive act. After our kiss we toasted my parents and belted down our glasses of sparkling cider. I waited for mom or dad to say something about the kiss, but they pretended like it had never happened. But they did see it and they didn't forget it. We were both pretty tired as we readied for bed. Since we'd been wearing only boxers, t-shirt, and socks, it didn't take us long to strip, take care of our bladders and teeth, and climb into bed together. "Do you think your mom and dad know?" Phil asked me as I turned out the light. "Well, they did see us kiss. And they know we sleep together and we aren't little kids anymore." Amazing how a pair of twelve-year-olds no longer considered themselves little kids. "I want to fuck you," Phil said out of the blue. "Now? Tonight?" I asked. "No, doofus, but soon. I want to make love to you." "We're only twelve," I protested as I suddenly saw us as little kids again. "Jeez, so is everybody else we know who is fucking each other. But I don't want to just fuck you, I want to make love to you. What do you think?" My mind came back to the present. My life partner had just proposed marriage to me, which of course brought my mind to Phil proposing to make love to me before we'd even become teenagers. I thought it interesting that both times Phil was the one doing the asking and I was the one being asked. I wondered if that was why I was the bottom more often than not. I picked up a letter from the coffee table—it had arrived in the mail the day before. It was from Andy, who wanted to communicate in his own hand rather than by email. That was the way Andy was; he liked the personal touch. He's been married to Lance for two years and told us it was now our time. Andy had made and lost a few boyfriends through middle school and high school. He and Lance met during their junior year in college, and this time the relationship was the real thing. He knew ours was, too, and it was time for us to make if official. By the way, as adults we've never heard what happened to Ross – Andy never mentions him and Phil and I have never asked. Ironically Andy, along with the same Wonkeys who had told us it was time to make love, was now telling us it was time to get married. My former players said it was time, my current players told us it was time, even some of my fellow teachers told us. Just like when we were twelve the pressure was on from the outside to take our relationship to the next level. And just like I knew what I wanted when I was twelve, I knew what I wanted now. Next: The Wonder of Love