Date: Fri, 6 Jun 2003 16:52:41 -0700 (PDT)
From: Mark Arbour <markarbour2000@yahoo.com>
Subject: On the Mark 1

PREFACE: I am writing this story primarily as a self-exploration tool.  I
invite you to come along for the ride, which is sometimes rocky, often
boring, and not always happy. Unfortunately, it's not always very erotic
either.  That being said, and if M/M and M/F sex doesn't upset you, read
on.  Since this is my story, please don't reproduce or publish it anywhere
without asking me first: markarbour2000@yahoo.com.

DEDICATION: This story, good, bad, or otherwise, is dedicated to John Walsh
of "Fraternity Memoirs" fame, whose ability and willingness to bare his
soul in his story inspired me to try to do the same.


My story starts right after my 14th birthday, which, like all my birthdays,
is in May.  This story starts in the mid-1970s...before herpes and AIDS,
where the biggest danger was the clothes.  Kids at school wore jeans or
cords for the most part, with big elephant bell bottoms.  Some of the
students, mostly the Hispanic or Black kids, would wear those polyester
"Angel Flight" pants...so very disco.  Wild color shirts or t-shirts were
OK, and some people even wore those western-type shirts with the "yoke" in
the front.  Hair was long, and "feathered" back, and guys all caried a big
black comb (with the handle sticking out) in their back pocket.  And one
more thing....the pants were all TIGHT.

I had to be the biggest dork on the planet.  For starters, I was a late
bloomer.  All the other guys I knew were well on their way through puberty
by 14, but not me.  I was just beginning.  So even though I was tall, my
muscles were still undeveloped, I still had my baby fat, and I only had a
little body hair.  Since I have dark brown hair, my lack of hair was even
more obvious.  All the guys talked about masterbating like it was something
they did all the time, yet I had only had three prior jack off experiences
where I actually came, and the first was pretty much an accident.  Those 3
incidents had been spaced out over the previous month or so.

I was naturally clumsy, so I hated sports.  Even more than sports, I hated
PE and the locker room scene.  I never took a shower with the other guys,
or even undressed in front of them, because I was so embarrassed that I had
the body of a 6th grader.  And to make matters even worse (are you getting
the feeling this wasn't a happy time in my life?) I was intensely curious
about the other guys around me.  I knew that I wasn't supposed to be
attracted to other guys, and I was still exploring what "attraction" met in
a physical way, but I found I could not stop myself from looking around the
locker room.  That's what got me into trouble.

Aaron Bryce had the locker right next to mine.  Aaron was everything that I
was not.  He was a good athlete and had a thin honed body.  He was about
5'7" tall, had brown hair, and a cute dimpled ass.  His dick was about 3
inches long, soft, and it was surrounded by a big tuft of brown pubes.  I'd
look, then try not to look, then look...you get the picture.  One other
thing about Aaron: he was a complete asshole.  I was staring, he saw me...I
was busted.

"Arbour, you faggot, quit staring at my dick!", he said, loud enough to
attract the attention of the other guys around us.  "Fuck you Bryce, I'm
not looking at you", I said trying to sound convincing, even though I could
feel my face turning red.  "Yeah you were...you were staring right at my
dick, you fucking homo."  He was in my face, and there were at least 4
other guys staring at us, smirking.  He pushed me back, and I stumbled...I
realized that there were only two ways out of this...run like hell or make
a lot of noise.  I started yelling: "Leave me the fuck alone Bryce!  And
quit wiggling your dick in front of everyone's face!"  That got the desired
result...the coach came cruising into the locker room to see what was going
on, and everyone backed off and acted normal.  Fortunately, I was pretty
much dressed by then, so I just stood upto leave, when he grabbed me and
pushed me into the lockers.  "After school I'm gonna kick your ass," he
said, with a low, menacing voice...like he meant it.

Oh terrific.  Just what I need...a fight.  And I knew that he probably
could kick my ass.  Nothing like a little fear to spice up a day.  Plus it
was hard to argue since I was staring at him.  Was I really a fag?  I kept
telling myself that I was just intrigued by his body, and all the changes
it had gone through.  You know, like a scientific experiment.  That's
right, I was just observing from a purely research-oriented curiosity.
Rationalization is a wonderful thing.

My last class was typing with Ms. Garcia, who was a totally hot teacher.
She was one of those women with a perfect body and the smile to go with it.
There wasn't a guy in her class that wouldn't do absolutely anything for
her.  I think that was the only class where I never missed a homework
assignment, or got less than an A on a test.  In addition to staring at
Ms. Garcia's tits, I was also wondering if Aaron was really going to try to
fight me after school.  Should I try to avoid him, and go out the back way,
or should I just stand him down and risk getting my ass kicked?  As I was
looking around the room, I unexpectedly made eye contact with Darryl
Sharpe, who was three rows over (there wasn't anyone sitting in betweeen
us).  Aaron could threaten to kick my ass, and I could view that rather
calmly, but Darryl Sharpe scared the shit out of me and everyone else in
school.  He was one tough guy.

Our school was built at the bottom of the hill.  I think it is a universal
truth that people who live in California spend whatever they can afford to
be as close to the top of the hill or as close to water as possible.  It is
also important to point out that a "hill" as in this case, is pretty big,
as opposed to the type of "hill" you'd find in the midwest.  We called the
Sierra Nevadas mountains...everything else was a hill.  In this case, the
higher up the hill you lived, the more money your parents probably had.  We
lived about half way up in our little upper-middle class world.  Darryl
lived near the school, in the blue collar neighborhood.

He was about average height, with dirty blonde hair that was usually just a
little unkempt.  He always wore jeans and a black t-shirt, and when it was
cold he had a leather jacket.  This guy was not a star athlete, but he was
ripped.  I think he was into martial arts or something.  When I looked at
his face, the most outstanding feature was his left dimple which only
showed up when he gave his lopsided smile.  I couldn't tell if he was
smiling at me in a friendly way, or just mocking me.  Shit, maybe he wanted
to kick my ass too.  Suddenly I felt like the fox in a fox hunt.

Oh well, back to Ms. Garcia's tits.  I had about 5 more minutes to stare at
them before school was out.  She was supposedly married to some soon-to-be
pro football player.  Figures.  I decided that the thing to do was to just
walk home.  Sometimes I took the bus, but I really hated school buses, and
it was a nice day.  Besides, most of my friends took the "late bus" for
activities and stuff, so I'd be pretty much alone and a sitting duck if
Aaron and his friends decided to torment me.  Being a pussy requires a lot
of strategic planning.

The bell rang and I moved as quickly as I could while still looking calm.
I just walked straight out the door and headed through the school, winding
my way through the corridors to find my exit.  On the way out, I ran into
my friend Mari (short for Marianne).  She'd lived next door for pretty much
my whole life, and we were really good friends.  She just had to tell me
all about her day.  So much for getting out of school quickly.  Anyway, I
was walking off campus as the buses were leaving, As my bus drove by Aaron
leaned out the window and yelled "Hey fag!".  I flipped him off.  At least
he was on the bus, so I wouldn't have to deal with him.

My route home took me first through the "blue collar neighborhood", and
then I usually stopped at the gas station to get something to drink before
I made the climb up the hill.  I was just about 3 blocks from the gas
station when I turned a corner and there was Aaron, with two of his
friends.  Fuck.  The friend on his right was Nick Barcheletta, but people
just called him Bark.  He was a good looking Italian Guy, but not too
bright, with a big mouth.  The guy on the left was Julian Alpert.  He was
the smallest of the three, and he looked very uncomfortable, probably
because we knew each other pretty well and he sure didn't want to pick a
fight with me.  We all called him Julie, which used to piss him off, but
now he just dealt with it.

Aaron came walking forward looking pretty beligerant.  "I'm gonna break
your middle finger off, Fag!"  I just stood my ground.  The only real
weapon I had was my backpack, filled with books, so I grabbed it pretty
tight.  Then he pushed me hard, and I started to fall back.  While I was
staggering, I felt a rage run through my body.  I'm a pretty calm guy, and
I don't easily get pissed, but when I do...and I was really pissed now.
"Fuck You!"  I yelled, and took my back pack from behind my back and swung
it around.  I hit him hard right on the side of the head.  He looked a
little dazed, but then he charged me and knocked me down.  I remember
rolling around on the ground, taking a few punches but nothing too
bad...and then we both froze when we heard Bark scream in pain.  I looked
up and saw Bark holding his stomach as he fell to the ground, while Darryl
Sharpe stood in front of him in some kind of Karate like pose.  Wow.

He looked over at us and said "Bryce, you fuck with my friends, and I'll
fuck with yours." He then kicked Bark in the chest and knocked him back on
his ass.  Aaron and I both got up, both of us amazed.  "I didn't know he
was your friend", Aaron said very sheepishly.  I didn't know I was his
friend either.  We all just stared at each other for a minute, then Aaron
helped Bark up (he was pretty messed up) and they walked off.  I just stood
there, speechless, watching them leave.  Wow.

I looked over at Darryl, and he gave me his lopsided grin (and the dimple
showed).  "Thanks man", was all I could think of to say.  He just shrugged,
and asked me if I wanted to come in and get cleaned up.  I didn't realize
this all happened right in front of his house.  So cool, I followed him in
and he showed me where the bathroom was.  Not too much damage...I might get
this past my parents without them noticing.

I walked back into the family room and he tossed me a coke and said "Come
On" and we went back to his room.  It was pretty basic, with lots of
posters on the walls of hot chicks and metal bands.  "Thanks again for
saving my ass" I told him.  "That was pretty nice of you...why'd you do
it?"  He smiled at me and told me that he hated bullies, and that he
thought Aaron was too full of himself, and that he really didn't like Bark.
So then we just kind of bullshitted for a while, and he told me about his
family.  He had a younger brother, and both his parents worked, that's why
he was home alone right now.

He was in the middle of a sentence about his parents when he suddenly
stopped, and said "Hey, you wanna get high?"

"You mean, like, smoke pot?"

"No dumbshit, go fly on a plane.  Yeah....I'm gonna smoke a joint."

"I've never done that before."  I was pretty nervous.  I mean, we're
talking drugs here, narcotics.  Shit, I could get arrested.  Maybe he's
some big time drug dealer.  I wonder if I'll weird out like they say you
do..like in the movie "Reefer Madness"?

He pulled out the joint, lit it, and said "you don't have to if you don't
want to."  What the fuck.  You had to take risks some time.  And that first
hit off the joint was the beginning of two important parts of my life: I
loved pot, and Darryl could get me to do just about anything.  So the next
thing I know, I'm high as a kite, laughing at everything, and getting
really hungry.

After a while, we decided to re-light the joint.  As I passed it over to
Darryl, he dropped it and it landed on his shirt.  "Fuck, it burned a hole
in my t-shirt" he screamed and then he jumped up pretty quick.  I was
laughing my ass off.  He looked at me and gave me a "go to hell" smile, and
took off his shirt.  I was transfixed by his body.  I had never seen him
without his shirt.  His body was ripped.  His muscles, especially his pecs
and abs, showed through his skin, not like a Mr. Universe, but in a more
gentle, subtle manner.  He had small brown nipples, and light brown hair
under his arms.  But what really got me was his light brown treasure trail.
I've always found treasure trails to be a major turn on, and his was just
perfect.

I realized that as soon as he took his shirt off, I had stopped laughing
and started staring.  I was big time busted.  He looked at me kind of
funny, and I felt my stomach drop.  I was really enjoying Darryl, I was
doing fun things with him and getting to know him.  And now I'd done it
again.  It's amazing how quickly I can flagellate myself in my own mind.  I
looked straight at him, and saw his expression changing again, to be even
more serious.  Maybe he'd finish the ass-kicking that Aaron started.

"So Mark, were you really staring at Aaron's dick, or was he just making
that up?"  I looked down at the floor.  I was too high to lie convincingly,
and besides, there was something about him that seemed to pull the truth
out of me.  "Kind of.  He was standing right in front of me, and I guess I
was curious.  I'm not gay or anything."  Why did I add the last part?  He
was standing up, shirtless, and I was sitting on the floor cross-legged.  I
don't think I ever felt quite so humiliated.

"If you're curious and you want to see what a real dick looks like, you
should have asked me", and as I looked up he started to unbutton his jeans.
He pulled them down and stepped out of them.  I noticed his calves and
thighs, both ripped just like his chest, with just a slight dusting of
blonde hair.  He was wearing bikini underwear, and I could see the outline
of his dick as he pulled them down and let them fall to the ground.  Here I
was, sitting at eye level with Darryl Sharpe's dick two feet away from me.
He had a nice mound of light brown pubes, and his dick was about half-hard,
and already at about 5 inches.  I couldn't stop staring at it.

"Go ahead, touch it" he said.  "Go ahead, you've seen it, you might as well
feel it.  I won't tell anyone."  I slowly moved my right hand up and
wrapped it around his dick.  It was like I was in a trance, and my hand had
a mind of it's own.  I felt it harden as I touched it.  "Feels good" he
said.  I felt encouraged, so I began to run my fingers around the shaft,
and up to the head.  Darryl began to moan and a drop of fluid appeared at
the tip of his cock.  I touched it with my finger, and it felt kind of
oily.  My own dick was hard as a rock...I had never been this hard before.
My dick was straining against my pants so hard that it almost hurt.

"Taste it", he said.  I looked up at him, into his eyes, and he gave me
that lopsided smile.  He had me and he knew it.  I'd do anything he asked.
I put my finger in my mouth and tasted his pre-cum.  It tasted
salty...that's what I remember the most.  He kind of laughed.  "No man, put
your mouth on it."

"You want me to suck your dick?"  I asked, suddenly horrified at the
implication.

"Yeah.  Come on man.  You know you want to, and I really need a blow job.
I won't tell anyone.  Do me a favor here."  That was all I needed.  He was
right, I did want to.  But I didn't want to want to.  But this guy, who
just saved my ass and was showing me a good time was asking me for a favor.
How could I say no?  It's good to know that getting high didn't hurt my
rationalization skills.

"I've never done this before"

"I'll tell you what to do, don't worry."

I kneeled in front of him and moved to swallow his dick.  I noticed that it
had gotten really big, about 7" now, and I wasn't sure how that was going
to fit in my mouth.  I also noticed a musky kind of smell.  At first it
sort of repelled me, but after about the third whiff I felt my dick
straining harder than ever against my jeans.  I slowly engulfed his dick
with my mouth....he moaned in appreciation.

"That's it, just take it slow.  I'll do all the work" He began to slowly
moving his dick in and out of my mouth, each time going just a little bit
deeper.  He hit the back of my throat, and I gagged.  I thought I was gonna
puke for a minute.

"Sorry man.  I'll go slower.  Just pretend like you're swallowing
something".  He began to moan..this must feel great.  I started
experimenting with different mouth formations, being real careful, since I
had braces.  And the more I sucked his dick, and the more he moaned, the
more powerful I felt.  His knees began to shake and he laid down on the
floor.  I was into it now, I needed no urging.  I engulfed his monster and
started sucking like there was no tomorrow.  I felt him start to tense up,
and watched his ab muscles contract.  He pushed my mouth off his dick and
began stroking it frantically with his hand...

"I'm cumming!"  Shots of white cum blew out of his cock.  The first shot
hit him on the chin, the second on his chest, and the rest trickled down
his dick.  He laid there panting, and I sat there staring at him for a few
minutes.

"Thanks man.  You were awesome.  I'll make you a deal, you suck my dick,
and I'll make sure no one bothers you again".  OK.  What do I say to that?
Does that make me a whore?  Do I want to suck his dick again?  OK, the
answer to that question is yes.  All I could do was look at him funny.

"My mom should be home soon, and I gotta get cleaned up"

"Yeah, I gotta get home anyway".  The walk home would be good for me.  In
about 2 hours I had turned into a pot-smoking cocksucker.  I had a lot to
think about.

I figured that by the time I got to the gas station my dick would be
calmer, but no dice.  I asked the guy behind the counter for the bathroom
key (he gave me a funny look) and went into the bathroom and blew the
biggest load of my life...which isn't really saying that much...but it was
pretty intense.  I'd never been that turned on before.  I grabbed a coke
and started walking up the hill when a feeling hit me, one that would
plague me for years to come.  That feeling was fear.  Fear that I was
really gay, fear that someone would find out, fear that my parents would
find out, my friends...that I would be ostrasized..that I would never be
able to live in mainstream society and have the American Dream.  For
me...it was never so much a feeling of guilt, but this fear of being
caught....and even more intense (even though I didn't yet realize it) a
fear that I really was gay.