Date: Thu, 18 Nov 2010 17:46:34 -0500
From: Kevin Thatcher <k.thatcher90@gmail.com>
Subject: Surprise Party 2

Author's Note:

            This story depicts acts of a sexual nature been males.  If this
isn't your cup of coffee, then I hope you realize that you're not at
Starbucks.  I know that this chapter is quite different from the previous,
but please bear with me.  This chapter contains the beginnings of a plot and
I want to explore it.  I will pepper the story with sex later on, but for
now, please give it a try.



Chapter Two



            The warm spray from the showerhead came with force.  It beat
against my back, easing the tension that had risen from the dream.  I had
woken large and swollen but after finding my phone and seeing the time, I
realized I didn't have the time to take care of it.  Instead, I eased the
shower to cooler water near the end, shriveling me to a more public
appropriate state but lacking for my frail ego.  I toweled off, one for my
body and one for my thick hair, and walked to my room naked.  I'd grown
accustomed to leaving the damp towels in the bathroom hamper and air drying
commando along the upstairs stretch of hallway that Jesse and I shared.

            Jesse was the one that had told me about the surprise party.  He
felt that it would be safer for the party goers because I don't like being
surprised; as my first reaction is to grab my pocket knife, slash, and then
see if the person I cut deserves an ambulance.  I met him near our doorways,
our bedrooms sharing one wall.

            He spared me a look as he pulled on his boxers, his dick soft
and bouncing as he played with the elastic for comfort.  "Any hot water
left? I tried to make sure I didn't use it all."  He let his eyes trail down
my still damp body.

            I enjoyed the polite attention and said, "It's okay.  I needed
the cold water anyway."

            Our group of friends had always been really close.  Personal
boundaries don't exist when you become a part of our quirky group.  If
someone was naked and it was physically appealing, you don't turn away and
offend them.  The girls will verbally compliment the guys and vice versa,
but when it comes to the same sex, the minimal response of a lingering look
sufficed.

            "Yeah," he started, "I heard you moaning in your sleep."  He
laughed, deep and hearty, as I blushed.  He reached over, tweaking my
nipple, before pulling his hair into a loose ponytail.

            Jesse was the only one who had hair longer than mine, down to
his lower back while mine barely was past my shoulder blades.  He was also
one of the tallest people I know, standing five inches taller than me at
six-three.  His build was bigger than mine; lean muscles played along his
broad shoulders and down his arms.  He reminds me of a modern day Viking, a
warrior in flip-flops and jeans.  Flat and firm, his stomach was muscled but
not with the washboard abs that most guys strive for, but more like the
promise of them.

            Our coloring was quite different from each other.  My raven
black hair matched my dark brown eyes and complimented my perpetually tanned
skin.  He was a light against my darkness.  His irises were rimmed with the
green of spring leaves shifting to the pale blue of a winter's sky before
falling into the black pit of his pupil.  They were startling eyes, ones you
never forget.  His hair was similar to Andrew's, sandy brown, but it looked
lighter with the naturally occurring shoots of buttery yellow highlights.  The
darkest hair he had was his full beard, the sandy brown of his head without
the highlights.  The arm hair was blond, so was underneath his armpits, and
since he was the one that broke me of my fear of nudity, I knew that he had
a groomed bush of the same golden color.  It was as if in his making,
someone chose two palate colors for his head but used them separately for
his body.  His tan was different than mine.  While mine was genetics, his
golden hue was due to many mornings out in the surf, paddling for that one
wave that got him through his day.  I envied his body hair as I had none
less than that on my arms, legs, and those special parts that nature deemed
worthy of extra insulation.  He once expressed his want for my smooth body.
I guess we all want what we can't have.

            I got dressed in record time, black t-shirt, blue jeans, and red
Chucks.  I usually let my hair air dry; blow drying turns it into a black
cloud.  I took the stairs three at a time, the bone carved piece sign
pendant around my neck bouncing with my strides.  I landed at the bottom at
an awkward angle, the woven rug shifting against the polished hardwood
floor.  Almost landing on my ass, my arms flailing until I caught the
banister, I yelped as I lost my balance and fell backwards into Jesse's
arms.

            "Whoa," he said, "ease down.  You made it to twenty-three.  Try
and make it to twenty-five, okay?"  He straightened me up, literally lifting
me to my feet before setting me back onto the ground.

            "Thanks.  I'm such a fucking klutz.  Cracking my head on the
floor wasn't exactly on the game plan tonight," I laughed, a little dizzy
from how swiftly he brought me standing.

            I turned and felt the hammer hit my forehead.  Dressed in
chocolate brown slacks and emerald green button-up shirt, Jesse looked good.
His hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail with some unwilling strands
falling forward and framing his face.  When he caught me, my still wet hair
touched the shirt and turned the water stain a darker green.  With the shirt
on, his eyes appeared to be the greenish blue of Caribbean waters.

            I must have stared too long because Jesse laughed, put his arm
around my shoulders, and laid a brotherly kiss on my head.  "You look good,
too."

            I blushed.  "Trust me.  I've learned that with our group of
friends, I'm the homely one."

            "You doubt yourself too much."  He spared me a look, unreadable
but there nonetheless.  "Come on, let's get going.  We're already late."

            We drove in his car to the south side of town, near the local
nature preserve.  I rode shotgun.  Around the ninth mile marker, he slowed
and took a sharp curve onto a dirt road carefully hidden behind shadows.  The
car bounced along the puddles from the rain we've been having lately.  He
parked near an old oak where the road curved farther in.

            "We have to walk the rest of the way.  I don't think my car
could handle these puddles," he explained as we got out. "Everyone's down
there waiting for us."

            We strode side by side, easing through the darkness with the
help of the full moon bouncing in silvery light across the gathering pools
of rainwater.  There was a light mist coming down, the kind that was barely
detectable until you noticed the sheen of water on your skin.

            "Hey, I forgot," he said, breaking the peaceful silence, "I got
part of your birthday present on me."  He patted his back pocket and brought
out what looked like a green plastic test tube.  Turns out it was one of
those cigar tubes and as soon as he popped the top open, I smelled what was
in there.

            I sniffed the air and gently moaned.  "Orange Kush?"

            "Good nose," Jesse said, handing the blunt to me along with a
lighter.  "Happy Birthday, man."

            Smiling, I torched the end and puffed on it until the tip turned
orange and the taste of Fruity Pebbles crept down my throat to my lungs.  I
groaned as my taste buds welcomed back the taste of dank weed.  "Oh, sweet
jeebus."

            We passed it between us as we walked.  Several times we had to
follow a path around the mud puddles as they got deeper.  By the time we had
finished the blunt, we reached a part of the road where he had to stay close
behind me on the narrow line of grass or go wading through several feet of
water.

            "I have another present for you," he said.

            I wasn't really paying that much attention to him, focusing on
not slipping into the small lake that encompassed the width of the dirt
road.  It was as if I had tunnel vision, my only goal was around the murky
water, so when Jesse's arms snaked around my waist I started and almost
fell.

            "Whoa," Jesse laughed, his hold on me tightening.  He held me
inches above the ground again, effortlessly.  When he set me down, still
chuckling, he said, "Why so jumpy?"

            "Sorry," I said, catching the laughing bug, "I'm stoned."  As my
laugh faded, I realized his arms were still around me, holding me close
enough that I had to take a step forward to make room for his legs.  His
body was molded against mine intimately, fingers firm against my lower
stomach, and when I tried to pull away, he held on tighter.  After a few
seconds of trying to get away, I relaxed and asked, "What're you doing?"

            Jesse rested his chin on my shoulder, our heads now side to
side, and repeated, "I have another present for you."

            Just as I began to ask exactly what it was, he placed a kiss on
the bend of my neck, freezing me in my tracks.  His grip on my waist eased
up but I was a statue.  My buzz from the weed had been put on the
backburner, the feel of his warm lips against the soft skin of my neck
taking nearly all my attention.  I thought I imagined it but that was dashed
when he kissed me again, this time behind my ear.  One arm left my waist and
he tilted my head sideways until my neck was stretched to look at him.

            "What're you—"

            My voice was taken from me in a rush of his lips against mine.  I
froze, again, but a beat later, snaked my tongue into his mouth.  Jesse
welcomed it, playfully nipping at it, as he slowly turned me around to face
him.  The mud beneath my feet squished, but even with my new shoes
destroyed, I didn't care.  I took all that he gave me.  I wrapped my arms
around his neck and pulled him father down into the kiss, which started
tentative and reluctant, but became a hunger for lips, teeth, and tongue.  I
breathed him in through his mouth, consumed his passion, as his hands on my
biceps squeezed and broke us into two gasping guys instead of a mass of
flesh and need.

            When I caught my breath and regained sanity, I almost kneed him
in the nuts.  Keeping it low, I screamed at him, "What the hell do you think
you're doing?"

            Jesse smiled and tried to guide me closer to him.  I resisted
the urge to jump away and made sure there was a respectable distance between
us.  "What's wrong?"

            "What's wrong is," I started through gritted teeth, "I've made
my peace with the fact that I can't touch you guys and then you do something
like this!"

            Though my anger had risen, Jesse placidly stared me down until
my blood pressure settled.  He always could.  His welcoming smile compiled
with his winsome stance can always bring me back from whatever emotion I had
to just plain awe that this guy would even talk to me.  Self esteem issues?
Who?  Me?

            "Listen," Jesse said, "what did I tell you when you came out to
me?"

            I thought about it for a second, my mind going back several
years.  "You said that you weren't gay."

            He nodded.  "And?"

            I smiled when the memory of his words came back to me.  "But
that you'd sleep with me."  Then I frowned.  "Literally sleep with—but no
sex.  What is going on?"

            He took my hand.  "I'm giving it a shot," he said, beaming.

            I drew my hand away, this time with little resistance.  "Giving
what a shot?"

            Instead of answering, he moved me towards him, one hand on the
small of my back and the opposite arm draped around my shoulders.  In this
position, with his strength, I knew there was no way for escape, only
release.  He ground his groin against mine, drawing a whimpering exhale from
me as I felt his hard dick bump my thigh.

            This time, when he held my hand, I didn't pull away, but I did
have enough sense in me to ask, "What about Jules?"

            His fingers entwined with mine, he stopped the gentle stroke of
his thumb on my palm when he heard his girlfriend's name.  "She's waiting at
the party," he said, clearing his throat.

            Addressing him but watching our hands as his fingers restarted
their comforting touch, I asked, "Does she know about this?"

            Hesitating, Jesse said, "No, she doesn't."

            "We shouldn't do this," I said.  "Fucking around with you is one
thing.  Helping you cheat is another."

            "Tell me," he said, thrusting his crotch harder into mine, this
time, causing a response from me in the form to shocking pleasure from dick
to the sudden lump in my throat.  He still held me but not as tightly.  "Tell
me you don't want to do this and I'll let you go.  Tell me that you don't
want one night with me, all of me, and this gift was never presented."

            I could feel the potential of escape; I heard the truth in his
words.  If I reject this offer, I reject it forever.  I sighed and rested my
head on his chest, wrapping my arms around him like a cherished, childhood
teddy bear.  "I want to," I said, almost stuttering, "I want to have you,
even for just a night, but I like Jules.  She's always been nice to me."

            "And I'm trying to be nice to you," he said, running his fingers
through the strands of my hair until he found the black tie.  Unbinding my
hair, he continued his exploration.  "In the three years I've known you,
you've ask nothing for yourself.  You stand idle while we go through women."

            "Pretty boys like you guys are known to be heartbreakers," I
joked, breathing in his scent through the partly unbuttoned shirt.

            "Yeah, but I didn't expect to break your heart."

            I'm certain he felt me tense in his embrace because he suddenly
grabbed me by my arms and put just enough space between our faces for our
eyes to meet, our lips a mere breath away.  "No, you don't do that.  Not
with me," he said.  "I love you.  I may not love you the way you want to be
loved, but I do love you in my own way.  No one will change that.  Not even
Jules.  So let me help ease some of the pain and longing we've caused you."

            I was with him up until that last part.  I backed away from him
as much as the small pond would let me.  "Does everyone know?  Is that what
this is?  A pity fuck because you're all tired of seeing me moping
around?  Well,
forget it.  I don't need your pity."

            "It's not pity," he said.  "It hurts me seeing you pained.  Why
won't you let me help?"

            "Because Mark likes to be in control of everything," a familiar
voice said from behind, startling me.

            I looked around, trying to find the disembodied voice.

            "Leave, Logan," Jesse ordered, eyes concentrated on me.  "We'll
be there in a minute."

            As if by the conjuration of his name, Logan stepped out of the
shadows and into the moonlit night.  He was a scant shorter than me.  Tight
jeans hugged his legs, ripped with holes and fraying at the edges.  A shirt
I recognized him wearing before paled into a light purple under the silver
light of the full moon.  His brown curls were still an unruly mop atop his
head and the matching beard still needed to be filled in at certain spots.  "I
would, but they sent me out looking for you after an hour passed and still
no birthday boy."

            Startled, I asked, "How long have you been there?"

            Grinning ear to ear, he responded with, "Long enough to see that
Jesse can get hot and heavy with a guy."

            "Logan," Jesse said through gritted teeth.  "I would leave, now.
This doesn't concern you."

            I knew that these two particular boys were different from the
other friends I have.  Undoubtedly, they were best friends, but for some
reason, Logan has been a caustic thorn on Jesse's side as of late, and it
didn't look as if the night was going to prove any different.  As Logan
stepped closer to us, following the narrow strip of grass and mud, the only
path around the puddle, Jesse put his hand on my shoulder and moved in
close.  The movements made me feel awkward, not because it was very much
like he was marking his territory—though that's what it clearly was—but
because he faltered in the middle, and through that small opening I noticed
fear.

            "I know Mark a little bit better than you," Logan taunted.
 "Cornering
him won't get you anywhere."

            Jesse noticed what he did, staring at his hand as if it had
moved on its own accord, and immediately released me.  "So what?  You fucked
up your attempt and now you think you're entitled to get a second chance?  Mark
isn't something you can put in a box after you're done with it and expect
him to still be there.  You can't just use a second life to try again."

            Eyes volleying between them, I asked, "What attempt?"

            They thoroughly ignored me.

            "Halloween doesn't count!"

            "Getting too drunk is not an excuse," Jesse retorted.

            Then it hit me what they were talking about.  Last Halloween
marked a very embarrassing day for me.  Drunkenly, Logan and I had engaged
in some heated kissing and groping in a dark alley down from bars on Front
St.  Though I had achieved erection in record time, Logan's innate sexuality
preference kept him from getting hard in front of another man.  He promised
to make it up to me, to what purpose I still had no clue, and in the months
that passed, it had still yet come to fruition.  His seeking redemption at
this moment also was a piece of this increasingly annoying puzzle.

            Aggravated by both parties, I had enough of the double talk and
voiced my opinion, which usually leads to trouble, by getting between and
poking them on the chest hard enough to bruise them and almost break my
finger.  "First off, I'm right fucking here, so don't talk about me like I'm
not.  Second, there's something going on between you that you're not telling
me, so spill."

            To emphasize my point, I pointed at Logan as I said the last and
tried my best to keep a straight face.  I don't like being serious, since
each time I try ends up with me breaking down in laughter at the first sight
of uncomfortable silence.  I must have been able to control my expression
because neither laughed from the stare I gave.

            "I wasn't lying, or pitying you," Jesse said.  "I meant what I
said.  I love you, and it hurts seeing you so lonely."

            "I'm not lonely," I protested, weakly.  "I've got you guys."

            Logan stepped closer and when Jesse didn't argue, he stopped
beside me and put an arm around my waist.  Our difference in height made my
arm fit perfectly across his shoulders so that's where I put it.  This type
of touching between us guys has made certain people uncomfortable in the
past but we've jumped that hurdle a long time ago.  It just made sense to
fall into the comfort given than reject it because of social taboos.

            "You've got friends, countless of them," Logan started, "but you
never have one you can call your own, a special one who helps keep the bed
warm at night.  We've noticed that recently, but according to Nicole and the
girls, it's been going on for a while.  There are some of us who want to
rectify that."

            At the mention of her name, I filed a reminder to pinch my best
friend in the neck next time I see her.  "I confided in her," I whispered.

            "She didn't betray you," Jesse interrupted.  "She was just there
when we realized what was up with you.  We kept going into different
scenarios, the next one worse than the prior, until she set us straight."

            I shifted away from Logan and pushed them together so I could
face them side by side.  I could never think straight when they touch
me.  "Yes,
but this was my private pain, my own personal hell.  Is the reason why
there's a surprise party because of this?  If so, I'm not attending.  I may
be alone, but that doesn't mean I don't have my pride."

            I started walking back the way we came, my head spinning from
the sudden surface of a subject I assumed was personal has now turned
public.  The shame I felt overran the lust that Jesse had brought in me and
the anger that Logan stirred.  Nearly halfway back to the car, I remembered
that I didn't drive here, Jesse did.  Frustration and anger boiled forth as
my breathing quickened.  I could tell that if I kept it up for a minute or
two, I'd be hyperventilating, so I did the only thing that would ease
everything.

            I punched a tree.

            Within the fourth or fifth connection against the outer bark of
the pine, I noticed my hand began slipping more and more as the punches were
thrown.  Blood stained the stripped portion of the tree, the rough bark now
just so much red stained litter on the forest floor, and I kept hitting it,
imagining the face of all those who I used to torture my psyche.

            Jesse came first, the taste of him still on my tongue, then
Logan.  A whirlwind of images formed on the tree trunk; Justin, Adam,
Brandon, Matt, all of them were targets for my profusely bloody fists.  I
was in the middle of a right hook aimed directly at Andrew when someone
pulled me away from the tree, their arms locking mine behind my back.  I
struggled against their grip, managed to get one arm loose, but was finally
contained when Jesse took one arm while Logan kept his grip on my other.

            "Let go!"  I struggled a few more times but between my heavy
breathing and the throbbing of my bleeding knuckles, I ended up dropping my
weight until I sagged against their hold.  My knees touched water and for
the first time I realized that I had been moved away from the line of trees
and was now calf deep in muddy water.  "Leave me alone," I said, between
panting breaths.

            They dragged me back onto solid ground.  My pants were ruined,
so when I touched soft grass I sat down and leaned against the very tree I
was pummeling, not caring that the seeping mud was soaking my jeans until
they wore like a second skin.  I picked up a bloody piece of bark and it
wasn't until then that the pain in my fists hit.  My dominant hand, my
right, had the biggest gash, a tear in my fist that started from the knuckle
of my index finger, across the base of my middle finger, and ending with a
constant, pulsing stream of blood at center knuckle of my ring finger.  My
left hand fared better, simple scratches with one exception of a slight
laceration on the thumb.  I tried my best to not move my hands but morbid
curiosity had me closing and opening fists until the pain got to be too
much.

            I heard the sound of fabric tearing and looked up to see Logan
ripping up his shirt and winding the tatters around his own fist.  Jesse
bent down next to me and held my hands by the fingertips, careful not to
cause much strain on the wounds.  He tried to use the light of the full moon
to see but the constant blood flow was too distracting.

            Logan knelt on the mud beside me.  "We have to get you to a
hospital and get you stitched up.  Let me bind your hands."

            "Looks like I'll be missing my surprise party after all," I
whispered.

            Jesse looked up from where he was helping Logan wrap first one
hand, then the other.  "What?"

            "Nothing," I lied.  "I just liked that shirt."

            They exchanged a look but finished up on my wounds without
another word.  They guided me back to Jesse's car.  I felt bad for ruining
the interior, but they both told me to shut up as Jesse drove with Logan in
the backseat, reminding me to keep my hands elevated.  Only three more hours
until the clock strikes the twenty-third anniversary of my birth.

            I fucking hate birthdays.