Date: Tue, 29 Dec 2015 20:15:48 -0800 From: Douglas DD DD Subject: Rough Edges Chapter 39 Welcome and thanks for returning. Just when Phil seems to have things going his way, he trips over his ego he finds himself screwing his life up yet again. Please donate to Nifty to keep it running free. Always be safe. Remember that this is my story and I have the rights to it. Email is always appreciated. Douglas, at thehakaanen@hotmail.com CHAPTER 39 THE BURDEN OF EGO AND SELF Phil had just officially asked me to marry him. Relatively speaking, this ranked right up there with us agreeing to be boyfriends and our first time making love. I'd agreed to be his boyfriend as soon as I saw it was what we both wanted. I dragged my feet when it came to making love, even after we agreed we both desired it. I had been riding the fence on the marriage issue ever since gay marriage became legal in the State of Washington. I knew what I wanted to do and Phil knew what he wanted to do. There was no doubt we both wanted the same thing and, as it had been with making love, I was the one holding up progress. I had recently received an offer to teach math and take over the baseball program at one of the most prestigious 4-A schools in the state. Phil told me that if I took the job I could no longer use my small-town phobia to keep me from agreeing to marry him. "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 petted his still thick, dark hair. "I can think of a million reasons to say yes, and not a single reason to say no. Yes, Phil, my one and only love, I will marry you." With that we hugged, we kissed, we cried a little, and we cuddled on the couch, looking out of the window, across the deck, and to the beautiful wooded lake that our house sat next to. Neither of us said a word, we simply held each other and reveled in the moment. We soaked in the natural beauty that surrounded our house as well as the human beauty residing within its walls. It was Phil who finally broke the silence. "I guess this means we will be moving up north to the big city." "No, I think this means we will stay here in the wonderful little town of Mayfield where we will be ourselves and do what we've always done— show the young men who have looked up to and trusted us that we are proud of who we are and have no intention of running from it." Phil landed a big kiss on my lips. "I knew there was a reason why I love you so much." "I see how it is, you want to marry me for my mind." He squeezed my hardening package. "I want to marry you for more than that." It seemed to be a good time to retire to our bedroom and take care of the physical form of love. I was hungry, but I didn't want to leave the side of the naked man beside me. He might be pushing forty, but his body was still firm and hard—the body of an athlete. I knew he would agree to marry me at some time, but I was certain that moving from our home would be the price to pay. Larry surprised me by saying we would stay right here in Mayfield as a married couple. It was one of the few times I read Larry wrong. Our love making had been passionate, sweaty, slobbery, physical, and wonderful. I fucked him hard, filling him with my love juice not once, but twice. We might be middle-aged, but we were still very much alive in the sex department, although two orgasm sessions were becoming rarer. Back in our middle school days, when we were starting out as boyfriends, we looked at ourselves as failures if we didn't have at least two orgasms during a sexual session. Just before school let out ending our seventh grade year, I turned thirteen. My birthday was June 5, but we had our big teen party two weekends before. Perry and Tyson had the same birthdate and had turned thirteen on May 11. While we all wanted separate teen parties, our parents saw things differently, deciding to split the costs of one big blowout party. While we griped and grumbled in private (not to mention in not-so-subtle ways to our parents, as good teens should do) we made the most of our party. We had pizza, followed by a skating party at the ice rink. Between the Wonkeys and the non-Wonkey friends and relatives of Perry, Tyson, and me, we had thirty kids at the party, including four girls. One of those girls was Mia Cassidy, who spent a lot of time coming on to the boys, especially Q and Tyson. Her seventh-grade year was not nearly the success her sixth-grade year had been as sex and getting wasted trumped being a good student and a nice girl. Nevertheless, we found a way of covering for Tyson and Mia when they snuck into the boys' bathroom together. We thought about having them go to the girls' room, but there were four mothers at the party who might have to use the can while Tyson and Mia were enjoying themselves. Of course, being the randy boys we were, some of us just happened to feel an urgent need to urinate while they were doing their thing. I was one of them, and got very hard when I saw Tyson's pants and undies on the floor along with Mia's pulled down to her ankles. I could see his dark legs and Mia's white legs, their feet facing in the same direction, as Tyson was obviously porking the thirteen-year-old girl. I almost came in the urinal as I listened to them grunt and moan, but I left to report their progress before the obvious conclusion. Q was in the bathroom when Tyson blew his wad. Q told us he blew his too after Tyson opened the stall door and he jerked off while watching Tyson and Mia finish fucking. "It was so fucking hot I almost fainted," Q grinned. "You can still see my jizz on the floor if you want." Puberty was certainly having its effect on the Wonkeys. We all passed on checking out Q's emission. Other than Tyson's tryst with Mia, the party was a kids' skating party with pizza, birthday cake, snacks, and enough soda to drown a school of middle schoolers. The overnight was at Tyson's house. We had the upstairs to ourselves and took advantage of it by playing games, chatting, getting naked, wrestling, groping, cumming, and having an all-around good time. "Too bad we couldn't have the girls here," Q said. "I am still mega-horny after this afternoon." "You can always fuck me, Q," Perry grinned. "Now that sounds like a plan." The other six of us watched while Q did Perry doggy style on the floor next to Tyson's bed. I couldn't help but think about Larry and me, wishing that we didn't have to wait the two months until his thirteenth birthday. I sat next to him and grabbed his rigid pre-teen pole. "That could be us," I pointed out. "Not in front of everybody," Larry said, aghast at the thought. "No, but we could be fucking somewhere, like tomorrow." "Not until I'm thirteen." It was his usual mantra, but I wasn't convinced he meant it. His steel-hard cock and flushed face convinced me he was totally turned on by the scene playing out in front of us. "You can do this right now," I smirked as I let go of his cock and went down on him. He offered no protest, and moaned with pleasure as I set to work on him. Perry came first, which was no big surprise considering how much he loved getting his ass fucked. His was a no-touch cum as he squirted his thin boy cum onto Tyson's carpet. I'm sure it wasn't the first time it had been cum on. Within ten minutes the rest of us horny teens and preteens had shot our wads. Q filled Perry's ass, Larry squirted into my mouth, I added more goo to Tyson's carpet, and Tyson came in Jung's ass as Jung jerked himself off. Tyson didn't start on Jung until after Q had cum. Daniel and Ben were jerking each other off when Robbie entered the room. "Damn, dudes, open a window...it reeks of sex in here. You don't want the `rents smelling this shit." Tyson opened the window while Daniel and Ben kept at each other. "Did you orgasm, little bro?" Robbie asked. "Fuck ya. Got me some pussy and some ass today. Being fucking thirteen totally rocks." "I got some weed to rock it even more," Robbie told us. "If nothing else it will hide the smell of sex. We know dad can handle us getting high better than he can a bunch of boys fucking each other." He was interrupted by two boys jerking each other as Daniel and Ben came at the same time, squirting cum over themselves. "Whatcha got?" Tyson asked. "Take a look. It's good shit." I knew how this was going to turn out. After I explain some things about the Wonkeys you will see why I was so certain. First, even though we were all twelve or thirteen, four of us (Jung, Tyson, Q, Perry, and I) had tried alcohol. Jung was allowed a small glass of wine with Sunday dinner. Perry had sipped a can or two of beer, but Q, Tyson, and I had been drunk at least once. Of those who hadn't used alcohol as we neared eighth grade, Daniel was the only one who never tried it—even as an adult. As for pot, Tyson, Q, and I were the only ones to smoke it. Q smoked it once, I'd been high a couple dozen times or more, and Tyson smoked it occasionally with some of his other friends, or with his brother and or his Uncle Marcus. "Wonkeys don't smoke pot together," Tyson informed his brother after Robbie offered us the marijuana. "The Wonkeys are pussies," Robbie replied. "Up yours bro. I don't need to give you my ass." "And I don't need to give you my big cock," Robbie smirked. "Go back to your room and get stoned and leave us alone." "You're all fucking faggot pussies," Robbie called out as he stomped out of Tyson's room. "I'd better get something to clean my rug," Tyson said. "You guys are such pigs." Not much later we engaged in a new round of sex. There was no fucking this time, but we did have new partners and we all had some solid orgasms. I'll just say this—Tyson sucks some mean cock. As much as I liked group sex with the Wonkeys, it seemed to be more serious than when we were ten and eleven. As we started hitting puberty things seemed to develop from messing around to serious sex. Not that I was complaining, but in a lot of ways I wanted to save the really serious stuff for Phil. I was happy we had totally agreed to lose our virginity to each other. Phil told me it wasn't that easy for him to be good. "I'd love to have Troy do me," he confessed the week after the big thirteen party. "But he knows he's gotta wait until we do it." "He can wait just fine," I said somewhat pompously. I could be a real stuck up prude at times, especially when it came to sex between Phil and me. "And it was really hard for me to not do Devon that night when he was with us at your house." "Yeah, but you managed." I loosened up and gave Phil a kiss, which got us off the subject of Wonkey sex and onto the subject of each other. "It's hard for me to manage not to do you," Phil said hoarsely. "I want to try it bad." "So do I." Which was true—I just didn't want to do it then. "Tonight?" "No." "Will you suck my cock?" Phil didn't miss a beat, which I was grateful for. As much as he wanted to go up my ass, he was willing to wait until I was ready for it, which I was grateful for. I was just as grateful as an adult that Phil waited for me to be ready before he took the plunge and asked me to marry him. Unlike when we were pubescent boys, he didn't keep asking until the day came; he just knew when it was time. I think he knew when it was time back then as well, he simply lacked the patience of an adult. "When do we want the big day to happen?" I asked Phil the morning after his proposal. "I'd like to see it happen before school starts." "That only gives us a couple of months to plan." "Plenty of time," he grinned. "And to honeymoon," I added. "That's what we have your personal leave days saved for. You can double your honeymooning pleasure by missing a week of school." "I love how you think." Teachers in the Mayfield School District received two personal leave days a year that could be taken for any reason. We could let them accumulate up to six and if they weren't used no new days were added to our total. I would have the maximum personal days accumulated once the new school year started. Phil still had two of his six weeks of vacation left for this year. We agreed on a potential Saturday date in mid-August. The next question was where the wedding would take place. We debated having it somewhere out of town, but ended up deciding that if we were going to take the plunge it would be right here in Mayfield. The next step was procuring a venue. That took us a couple of days, but turned out not to be a difficult process. Reverend Forester, the pastor of one of the Protestant churches in town, was pleased that we intended to marry. The Reverend was a big supporter of Mayfield sports. Both of his daughters had graduated from Mayfield High and had lettered in volleyball, basketball, and softball. He had been one of many Mayfield fans to watch our state championship game in Pasco, turning the church over to his assistant on Sunday. "I think God will forgive me for loving the Mayfield Mustangs on championship Sundays." He had seen us win all three of our State Championships, as had a large percentage of his congregation. His assistant had an easy time of it as he preached to the half-empty church while Reverend Forester rooted us on. "Are you willing to perform the ceremony?" Phil asked him. "As a man of God I feel I am obligated to," the Reverend said. "I didn't ask if you were obligated, I asked if you were willing." Phil still had a way of getting right to the point. "I mean you do have quite a few conservative members of your congregation who haven't approved of the lifestyle Larry and I have." "I will have to deal with them individually, which I am sure will happen." "What if we have a solution?" Larry asked. "Do you have somebody else in mind?" "A longtime friend who is the Pastor of a church in Tacoma of your denomination. You probably even know him." "Do you mean Reverend Turner?" "One and the same," I said. "He has been a friend of ours since grade school." That wasn't entirely true, but close enough—Phil hadn't met him until middle school. "He said he is more than willing to perform the ceremony here." Reverend Forester broke out into a broad smile. "I would have figured him for your choice even if you hadn't been lifelong friends." Daniel not only had performed some of the early gay marriages in Tacoma, he was married to his longtime Partner, Devon. Yeah, I know, Devon—go figure. Daniel and Ben started going their own ways during high school. They remained friends, but Ben discovered he desired the straight life. He is now married with a son and a daughter. When Daniel was a junior, he started dating Ben's younger brother, Devon, who was then a freshman. It was not like the two were strangers, either in and out of bed. "I know Reverend Turner well. A good man, a good spouse, and a good father," Reverend Forester said. Daniel and Devon had two children, both boys, from a surrogate mother. Devon was a pediatrician, which allowed them to afford to pay a surrogate and to raise the boys. "I get the best of both worlds. I can see the feathers of some of the congregation get ruffled while at the same time I won't have to totally ruffle them. I can tell you this, I know that the trustees will back me almost totally." "Almost?" Phil asked. "Every board of trustees needs at least one curmudgeon," the reverend laughed. Now all we had to do was mail out invitations, hire a caterer and take care of all of the other sundry things needed to plan a wedding. We got a break there, however. Of course current and past players quickly learned of our decision via the baseball telegraph. It's not like we were keeping the affair secret, but the telegraph was close to instantaneous. One of those to hear the news was Carla McCall, Nick and Noah's mother. She didn't hesitate to call us. "One thing that should not be left to two men, as wonderful as they are and as much as I love them, is the planning of a wedding. You have done well to get the church and the minister. I suggest you leave the rest to me and a few other mothers who are more than willing to step up to help." Phil and I did not have that kind of assistance for our big decision when we were thirteen. Yet as far as we were concerned at that age, that decision was as important as our decision to get married was to us now. But, before we could make love for the first time, Phil had to go through another of his dark periods. It didn't last long, but it did affect us for a while. All adolescents go through their moody phases, and I was no exception. For some those moods are worse than for others. I was one of those teens who could go right over the edge if I wasn't careful. Thankfully, I had Troy and Larry to help steady my ship, not that they didn't have their moody periods too—they just weren't as severe as mine could be. If not for those two I know my adolescence would have been much worse. The Wonkeys, along with a couple of adults, like Larry's dad, helped me out as well. For some reason, when I hit thirteen, I made up my mind the world owed me a living. After the fun "thirteen" skating party and the ensuing overnight I decided I was the coolest dude around and anybody who didn't agree had a few screws loose in his head. In other words, I was convinced that my shit didn't stink. My actual birthday fell on a Saturday and my summer baseball team had a game that day. I was the starting catcher, which I felt was my right, and batted fifth. I came to bat in the first inning with two on and two out. I worked a three-one count and nailed a fastball down the middle, sending it over the left-fielder's head for a two-run double. I felt like a million dollars—I mean here I was on my thirteenth birthday getting a big hit. I singled on my next at-bat, bringing a runner in from second and giving us a 4-2 lead. In the bottom of the inning I threw a runner out at second trying to steal. When my third at bat game up I hit my first ever over the fence home run, a two run shot which gave us a 6-3 lead and gave me five runs batted in for the game. The exclamation mark for me came in the top of the seventh and last inning, with us holding a 6-5 lead. The opposing batter (who was a very cute dude by the way) singled to left with the tying run on second base and two out. Q came up with the ball and fired it in to Larry, who was playing shortstop that game and was the relay man. Larry fired a bullet home which I caught on the fly and put the tag on the incoming runner. There was no question he was out and when the umpire pumped his fist and yelled, "OUT!" I jumped up in ecstasy. We had just won a big game on my birthday and I had been a major part of it. After the game Q, Jung, Perry, Larry, and I went out for burgers and fries (on our parents, of course) and I soaked in being the hero of the game. I'd hit my first home run, knocked in five of our six runs, and made the last out at home. I soaked in all of the adulation. Larry and I overnighted at Q's and of course there was sex. It was in the form of mutual masturbation with a bit of oral sex thrown in. There was no kissing, however. "I know you guys are boyfriends and all," Q told us, "and I have no problem with you two kissing each other, but kissing guys isn't my thing anymore, unless I'm fucking a guy and then it's like I can't help it." I had no problem not kissing Larry in front of Q, even though he'd said it was okay. It was Q's bedroom after all. If we had been at Larry's I think he and I would have traded spit, Q or no Q. When I got home on Sunday, Troy and mom praised my game. Keegan simply glared—he hadn't been there and didn't like all the praise going my way. He told me later, in private, that I wasn't the big shit I thought I was. I told him to go fuck himself, although what I really wanted to do was bloody his face. I slept with Troy that night, but we didn't have sex, which lately hadn't been unusual. We were naked though, and he did pet my torso, front and back. I loved being touched by him. He said he was proud of how well I was doing in school, sports, and life in general. He kiddingly told me not to let it go to my head. He was too late for that—I'd spent the time since the end of the game thinking about how awesome I was. In other words, I was getting a very large head. My ego was about to be deflated in a big way though, and I wasn't ready to acknowledge that I wasn't the big shit I thought I was, as Keegan put it. It all happened very quickly. In third period we got our final essays back. Mine was a B-, which all but wrecked the tenuous A I had going in English. I was furious and expressed my opinion later at lunch. "That is so bogus," I groused. "Why does Simmons suddenly have it in for me?" Mrs. Simmons was my English teacher. "I had an A all but clinched." "And you might have gotten it if you'd turned in A work," Larry said in his no bullshit, matter-of-fact way. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" "It means I watched you work on that essay, and you sure didn't put the effort into it that you usually do. And don't say I didn't say that to you, because I did." He was right, of course; he usually is about things like that. But I'd be damned if I was going to acknowledge the fact. My head had started swelling before Saturday's baseball game and I was not about to admit to being in the wrong about something. I'd somehow come up with the mistaken notion that all I had to do was mail in my essay to get an A. All things considered I was lucky to get the B-. The shit really hit the fan that evening. We had another baseball game. This game was against one the weakest teams in our league. As a result, Coach Wallace put together a whacko lineup. A lot of starters weren't starting and, except for the pitcher, the starters who were starting weren't playing their regular positions. I was one of the regular starters in the lineup, but I was playing third instead of catching. I did infield practice during our turnouts and had played a few innings at third, but everybody, especially me, knew that catcher was my spot. Carson Kellogg was starting at catcher. I knew he was a below average catcher and it pissed me off that he was starting there ahead of me—after all I was the one who placed the winning tag on Saturday. We were the visiting team and quickly placed six runs on the scoreboard. I had a two-run single, which made me feel better about the situation. But, as you have no doubt ascertained, I was not in a team first frame-of-mind. My team was in the first base dugout. When we went out on the field, I jogged out to my position at about half-speed. I was lucky the hammer didn't fall then, but Coach was going over something with Larry's mother, who was our scorekeeper, and wasn't paying attention to what was happening on the field. Somebody else was paying attention, though. "You know Coach Wallace will be all over your ass if you don't sprint on and off the field," Q told me as Larry, who was playing first, rolled an infield ball to me. "Fuck you, I hustled," I snarled. "Sure, sure, whatever," Q said as I threw the ball back to first. The second batter for the Jays walked and made it to second on a passed ball by Carson. That made my mood darker because I knew I would have not let an easy pitch like that go by me. The runner took off for third on the next pitch and made it when Carson threw the ball over my head. Okay, not way over my head—with a decent effort I probably would have caught the ball even though I wouldn't have been able to get the tag down. Just like with my English paper, I mailed in my effort. The runner ended up scoring on the overthrow. We got the next two batters out and the score was 6-1 after one inning. My jog back to the dugout was slow, almost a walking pace. The outfielders beat me back. Coach Wallace was waiting for me when I reached the dugout. "Since when did you get the million dollar salary?" he asked calmly. "Say what?" "When you make a few million dollars a year you can jog in from your position. Until that happens you will sprint on and off the field—at least the next time you play out there, whenever that may be. You can take a seat the rest of the game to think about it." My first reaction was to tell him to fuck himself and leave the dugout. Fortunately, I wasn't that far lost in my ego. Instead I sat on the bench and fumed for the rest of the game, making sure Coach could see my displeasure. None of my teammates said anything, but I knew they disapproved of my jog. Q giving me his best "I told you so" look pissed me off even more. "What were you thinking in the first inning?" Larry asked after the game, which we won 21-3 in five innings after the mercy rule was invoked. "I was thinking we were kicking ass, so who cared how fast I went off the field," was my haughty answer. "I think everybody on the team but you cared. What's up with you lately? It's like you don't care about anything...your final English essay, your team, your friends..." "I know my hustle won us the game on Saturday. I think that says something about caring about my team. What I don't care about is you not having my back." "I'll have your back when you're one-hundred percent right, but I sure won't when you're all full of yourself." "And you can stick that attitude up your ass." I sure told him, I thought, as I walked away from my boyfriend. I didn't feel as good as I thought I would, however. In fact, I felt like a first-class piece of shit. Troy didn't help matters when he got all over me for my attitude after we got home. I told him what I thought of his opinion, too. "You're not my dad, so you've got nothing to say," I barked. "Somebody has to say something to you, and you usually listen." "Well, I'm not listening any more. I got you, Larry, Coach Wallace, my teachers, hell, the whole world on my ass, and I'm tired of it." "Have you ever considered the fact that everybody is on your ass because you just might be wrong and we love you and want to see you succeed? That there comes a time when we need to call you on your bullshit." "Go call Keegan on his bullshit. He's the one who needs it, not me." Of course I slept in my own bed that night. I did my best to ignore Larry and the Wonkeys the next day at school. I did nothing to improve my position on the team in practice that evening. "You know what you need?" Keegan asked just before bedtime as I sulked in the living room. "What?" "You need to get stoned. It'll make you feel better." "Tomorrow." We had no practice the next day. After school, I didn't continue on the bus to Larry's house, which had not been a fun place the day before. I got off at my stop, along with Keegan, Carlos, and Skyler. We went to Skyler's house. As usual Carlos and Skyler gave me crap about beating up the Wonkeys someday to make up for the rumble the year before. But they were full of shit and we all knew it. Skyler had plenty of weed and we all got high. We also got horny and I sucked off Keegan while Carlos fucked Skyler. Once again I had just enough sanity left not to get involved in anal sex, although I did get rimmed for the first time. Keegan took care of me before he shot his load. Keegan might not be gay, but he did it all when it came to gay sex, and even in my drugged-up state I knew I loved what my brother was doing to me. I came all over Skyler's couch as Keegan got me off with both his tongue and his hand wrapped around my cock. I ended up swallowing his load after I'd had my orgasm. Keegan and I left before Skyler's mom was due home. I wondered if Skyler would get my cum cleaned off of the couch and then decided I didn't give a rat's ass. I could see Troy's disappointment when Keegan and I came home stoned. The two of us hit some more weed in Keegan's bedroom. The only reason I didn't sleep with Keegan was because he kept saying he was going to fuck me. I came real close to saying yes. Instead I slept alone once again. I was in that paranoid state that marijuana can bring on. As I lay alone in bed, observing colored lights flipping around the room, I suddenly felt very alone. I had a brief moment of clarity when I realized I had dug myself into a hole and had no idea how to get out of it. Next: Learn From It.