Date: Tue, 14 Sep 2004 03:13:09 -0400
From: Just Jake <mission_hockey_4_life@hotmail.com>
Subject: Dear Journal III (high school)

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*    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *

Dear Journal:

It's past midnight.  A thick fog has rolled in, lifting my spirits.  It is
here where I live; somewhere here between the darkness and the light
is where I am happiest.   It's where I belong, shrouded from all
that might see.  Just me.  Like a dim street lamp that you can see
when you are upon it, only it casts not enough glow as to reveal
itself for those who don't look for it.  That street lamp is me, I'm
here, but I'm hidden in the fog where most people pass me by without
even noticing.

I like it this way.  I dream of my freedom on nights like this.

Chris called like promised.  I had the ringer off so that it wouldn't wake
the house but watched for it to light up seemingly forever.  I need
desperately to get a cell phone.  Haha, that's just a whole
different situation and set of problems on top of all my current
problems that I don't think I'm ready to handle yet.  I don't want a
new boyfriend.  I'm sure that's where this is headed.  With Chris
that is.  I mean yeah, I want a boyfriend and I want to love and be
loved.  Don't we all?  But I'm not ready to give love or be loved by
someone new.  What If I don't love him?  I mean it's not necessarily
going to go that way at all, it's just hopeful thinking that it will
even be a good relationship.  But here I go again; critically
overanalyzing something that hasn't yet even had a chance to happen.
No, I like it here tonight, sitting on the computer here in the
laundry room between my actual bedroom and the kitchen, right beside
the warmth of the dryer as my work uniform dries.  With the door
closed to the kitchen I can make this an extension of my incredibly
small room.  I'd roll the computer desk into my actual room like I
usually do, but my room doesn't have a window and I'd rather look
out into the hidden abyss tonight.  Looking out the window into the
deep shroud of fog I assess my life and my worth.  Yes, here safe in
my home at 2:00 a.m. where no one else can affect me; I can surf the
net, I can look at porn and do my thing masked under the squeaking
of the dryer.  Or like now, I can just simply relate my cruddy life
to you, Journal as I download a ballad that Ozzy Osborne did with
Lita Ford (If I Close My Eyes Forever) while currently listening to
Def Leppard's new Euphoria CD.  Man, Rick Savage looks good in the
liner pictures!  And headphones.  What a great invention; no longer
watching for the phone I can create my own sullen world with them on
and no one's the wiser.

I'll tell you about Chris's first phone call.  Luckily I answered the phone.
I pretended like I was talking to Tim in case anyone overheard what
I was saying.  I put the same limitations on the conversation as I
would with anyone.  Nothing sexual, nothing revealing.  Just in case
anyone might hear.  Larry was over for dinner that night.  Candace
and Lacey were washing the dishes after dinner, while Larry and Mom,
and Scott and Deanna waited on them to finish so that they could
play cribbage.  Feeling incredibly on the spot there in the kitchen,
during the one minute conversation we had I think my voice cracked 3
times.  It was the usual `hi, how are you' fluff, and then I quickly
brushed him off, telling him I was busy getting ready to go out for
the night and he'd have to call another time.  I thought that I had
pushed him away.  I mean lets face it, again I tell you I'm not
really in the market for a new boyfriend.  I can't see how I could
ever be happy with Chris when I had been so happy with Daniel.  And
still I feel guilty; it's great to feel wanted by someone.  That was
Thursday, two nights after the Beach Bash.  The one good thing that
came out of that debacle of a phone call was that Larry whispered to
Mom that a young boy might need his own phone in a house full of
women.

Honestly Journal, I didn't mean to come off that blunt with Chris.  For what
it's worth he seems like a really nice guy.  Is it maybe jealousy I
wonder?  He is out, no question about that.  He doesn't seem to get
harassed about it, he has friends that look like they accept him for
who he is.  What's more is that they really know who he is.  Why did
he have to go and develop a crush on me?  Should I be mad, maybe?
After all, I was with Daniel when he first started liking me.  And
almost a year of liking me?  He's honestly been watching me for that
long?  Heck, that's got to go right back to when Daniel and I got
jobs at the restaurant.  Should I be flattered?  I guess?  Why then
am I always so short with him then when he calls you ask Journal?
No,no you don't ask, so I'll tell you.  Duh, I'm a straight boy
remember?  Yeah, tits and ass!  Pussy!  Yum, yum, yum!  That's what
my family think I like.  Shhhh!  Remember?  I'm not gay!  Only Larry
knows and he's never lead on any different.  So when he calls me
it's hard to talk without being overheard because the one and only
phone in my house is in the kitchen.  Thus it makes most topics off
limits when Chris is asking me things.  I've explained it, and he
understands, but then he forgets in the moment and presses me
anyway.  He apologizes, remembering what it was like being closeted,
only to slip up again.  Plus he has the advantage of his own phone
and phone line, presumably in his own room.

Chris called again the next day, on Friday.  Mom answered the phone, told me
there was `a someone' on the phone for me.  She gave me a coy little
smile, one that says I'm on to you.  Bette Midler's song, The Rose
was playing on the radio.  Mom winked at me and mock danced away to
it.  I'll give him credit, Chris is tenacious.  He wanted to do
something that night, but I had to let him down because I had plans
with my small group of friends.  He sounded defeated when he replied
that it was O.K.  Somehow he again managed to reduce me to
emotionally distraught hopeless romantic.  It gave me a lump in my
throat, to cause him hurt, so I quickly suggested getting together
Sunday before my shift at the restaurant.  He jumped on the
opportunity like a fat kid on a Smartie!  By the time I was hanging
up the phone I was smiling despite myself as Jennifer Rush's The
Power of Love played on the radio.  Mom was grinning back at me.
She didn't say anything, she just winked at me again.  I guess
things are just starting to heat up between her and Larry because
she's on a cloud.

That night it was just Neil, Tania and I until Natalie showed up at Tania's.
It was a pretty good night I guess, we watched Sleepy Hollow and I
lusted over Johnny Depp.  Natalie was real friendly towards me, and
it at some point became apparent to me that the night might have
been a set-up for me to get together with her.  I found out that she
and Tim actually are good friends and they were neighbours and went
to the same school until he moved just before grade 9.  Sort of your
Peter Parker - Mary Jane Watson thingy.  Only they were friends, not
just neighbours like Spidey and his girl; however, while I'm not
certain, I think Tim does have a crush on her, and she on him.  Plus
I don't think he's out at the moment doing superhero things like
Spidey, but you get the picture.  It confused me at first until I
found this out because I thought Tim wanted her and was chatting her
up at the beach earlier in the week.  So not knowing that they were
just friends I felt real uncomfortable when she was trying to lean
against me during the creepy parts and was all chatty after the
movie.  Neil and Tania were all gooey eyed again.  When aren't they
lately?  Natalie let them know she was going out for a smoke and
yanked my arm, less than subtly suggesting I needed to go outside
too.  Outside with her she came right out and asked me if I liked
her.  That was difficult.  I said I don't even know her.  She said
that's true and asked if I wanted to get to know her.  I was stuck,
so I told her that I'd never really dated any girl, and I would have
to get to know her more before I could decide such a thing.  Adding
to my load of crap I tried to explain my life schedule with school
and two part time jobs.  Natalie said it's O.K. and that it was
Tim's idea because he thought we were a good match.  Then she asked
me if I like boys.  Woah.  She wasn't really joking.  She told me
how Tim has mentioned things about me and while he's never said it
and doesn't probably even think it, she thinks based on what she's
heard from him that I must be gay.  She also said that I didn't have
to make any excuses; that I can just say no.  I was embarrassed, and
mixed up.  I don't know her, like hell I'm telling her the answer.
But still, being discovered, or outed made me act strange.  Inside I
wanted to tell her not to tell Tim incase I've misjudged him and he
ends up beating me or something.  Outwardly I tried my best to just
laugh it off and act like it was no big deal.  What bothered me most
was the way I acted in the sense that I clung to her like my puppy
does to me after he's done something shameful, like peeing in the
house or chewing the duvet on my bed to shreds.  She left shortly
thereafter so we didn't have too long to feel awkward with each
other.

I at first figured that because Tim wasn't with us that he would have been
with Natalie but when she showed up last night it squashed that
idea.  So where was that tricky dog then if not with Natalie then
you ask?  No, no.  Again Journal you don't ask but I'll tell you
anyway.  I guess in my preoccupation with Chris and my lusting over
Paul Hunter this week I totally forgot that Tim's family was going
away to a cousin's wedding in New Orleans for the weekend.  He did
say `see you Monday' at Friday's lunch break after all before taking
the afternoon off.  I felt totally stupid when it finally dawned on
me.  Thankfully I never voiced my question and thereby avoided
looking as stupid as I felt!  This at least paved the way for me to
see Chris Sunday morning while not having to make up an excuse to
Tim and have Natalie psychoanalyze it.

Yeah Sundays!  Lately my Sunday mornings are usually devoted to playing
Grand
Theft Auto or Final Fantasy with Tim.  At least he doesn't try to
get me to play baseball with him and a group from school after the
first time 3 weeks ago.  That proved disastrous on two counts.  I
suck for starters, and I can't keep my eyes from gravitating to the
guys crotches.  I have no idea what the score of the game was, or
how many balls I didn't catch, but I could have taken wagers on who
was going au natural and who was wearing a cup.  If I hadn't
embarrassed myself so badly playing I might have risked playing
again with them for the eroticism.  But I might embarrass myself
that way too because let's face it, it's obvious when a guy is
fixated on the other guy's crotches in a sport where they all wear
skimpy pants.  And then if a guy is wearing loose-fitting shorts, or
jogging pants or tear-aways it becomes even more of a stare while
you look for the goods.  Except for the fat ugly guys and the
already hairy guys, like Neil.  Nice guy, but damn Neil, shave your
furry stomach and chest already!  Obviously I don't even care to
waste time checking their goods out.  So anyhow, Tim usually plays
ball Saturday mornings instead and we do the game system thing or
fool around in his pool until I have to go to work on Sundays.  But
damn, while I don't favour Tim sexually (as hot as he is) I got hard
every time he adjusted or scratched.  It seems baseball players do
it so often that they have no qualms about just doing it wherever
and whenever necessary.  Like say for a seemingly exaggeratedly long
span of time and an overly frequent amount of times while driving.
If Tim didn't adjust almost every time after shifting gears then I'm
not gay.  And you know quite well Journal, the fact that I noticed
every time Tim's hand went there means I just might be gay!  Haha!
At least when Daniel played baseball with the guys a while back for
a couple weeks he didn't embarrass himself based simply on his
natural ability and athleticism.  Me?  Yeah the solo hand pump
action is my only real sport right now and for the foreseeable
future!

So as I worked at the music store and then the restaurant Saturday I
increasingly felt a knot growing in my stomach.  I got mad
butterflies in my stomach when Chris came in for dinner with his
family.  They are a cute, typical family; a mom, a dad, a son and a
daughter.  I couldn't tell who is older by appearance, his sister or
him.  I said hello to his family and nodded to him as they came in.
I'm sure I caught his sister asking if `that's him' (meaning me).  I
don't have any pull at the restaurant, but I flirt back and forth
with the girl that takes names for the waiting list so I asked her
if she could squeeze them in quicker.  She said that she can't in
case any customers overheard the question, but I noticed that she in
fact sat them is well less than half the time they should have
waited.

Chris seemed to watch me very closely, and when I went to do my routine
bathroom check he was there before I was done.  There was another
older man in the washroom so Chris contained himself to a simple
`hi' and a million dollar smile.  Of course while I wiped the
counter dry and checked the soap levels I did check his ass out in
the mirror as he stood at the urinal.  Not bad, not bad at all.
After shaking it and zipping up he said he'd call me tonight and was
gone before I could argue.  I can't explain it, it's not like I had
any expectations or premonitions about Chris.  And again Journal,
for the record, no I am not actively on the market for a boyfriend!
With that said I can't figure why I was getting butterflies in my
stomach.  The whole night they just seemed to keep me company no
matter what I was doing.  Why does my mind completely go to mush
around him?

So I raced home as fast as public transit could get me and waited for the
phone.  It rang just shortly after midnight.  Chris asked me if I
could meet him out front of the restaurant tomorrow morning at 9:00
a.m.  Not thinking of what I might have to do in the morning, I
hastily agreed to meet him there.

Presently Def Leppard is shelved and I am listening to Power Ballads online
through Iceberg Radio.  Stephen Tyler of Aerosmith sang sweetly to
his `Angel', Kansas was just strumming out `Dust In The Wind', and
Damn Yankees questioned if they could be taken `High Enough' before
that.  It's like that all the time for me.  I can identify with too
many songs and find meaning in them.  Way too many songs in fact
that I can dwell upon; finding sadness in.  But lately I don't just
hear the sad song anymore, I mostly hear the hope instead.  And yet
I cry now, here alone in the middle of this foggy night.
Bittersweet tears I suppose?  I've just nodded off through Dream
Weaver I believe.  Now Cinderella is letting me that we `Don't Know
What You Got (Till It's Gone)'.  O.K.  That does it.  Again, I'm
crying now.  The guitar solo seemed so inspiring when I was with
Daniel and now it seems so hollow and lonely.  Of course I attach
these emotions to the songs.  Still, all it takes to reduce me to
tears over Daniel is a simple song.  The Scorpions' `Send Me An
Angel' is followed up by Toto's `I'll Be Over You'.  After Night
Ranger's `Sister Christian' plays Queensryche's `Silient Lucidity'
raises the question if it's all just a dream before paving the way
for Europe's `Carrie', which questions if maybe we'll meet again,
somewhere, somehow.  Then the Def Leppard song `Have You Ever Wanted
Someone So Bad' comes on and I've had it.

I switch to the 80's Hair Bands channel but that doesn't last long as Bon
Jovi's `Wanted Dead Or Alive' gives way to Tesla's `Love Song'.
Finally an uplifting song.  It's both that and melancholy, but I see
the up side.  Off goes the computer as Traci Guns starts the intro
guitar riff into L.A. Guns' `Never Enough'.  Not that I don't love
L.A. Guns, but because I am fucked up beyond belief, having
tormented myself with song after song.  And on top of that I am
meeting Chris in 6 hours now and I just don't even want to think
about it.

I grab my copy of George R.R. Martin's `A Clash of Kings'.  I loved his
first
book in the series called `A Game of Thrones', and am completely
(albeit secretly) lost in the realm of this author's imagination
while I wait on Robert Jordon's next installment of The Wheel of
Time and Stephen King's next offering to The Dark Tower.
By 5:00 a.m. I have put another 50 page dent into the book while frequently
nodding off, But I still have yet to manage to fall asleep.  I give
up on the book because I can't recall what I've just read, and try
to sleep.  It's got to be closing on 6:00 a.m. when I start to
fitfully sleep.  By 7:20 I am sick and tired of waking up every 10
minutes so I get out of bed and head for the flush.  Once I've
relieved my bladder I head to the kitchen and grab some juice before
grabbing my uniform from the dryer and deciding on what the hell I
should wear for my (date?) with Chris.

I'm somewhat nervous Journal.  I don't know why.  Is my anticipation somehow
that below my still tightly guarded feelings of loss I actually
might want a relationship?  Am I kidding myself?  Why do I keep
going along with things and play into Chris' hand?  I mean I could
have just told his friend I wasn't interested and left it at that.
But then I saw him.  There he was, a gay boy who didn't give a shit
who knows about his sexuality.  Like it's nothing.  So brave, so
courageous.  He was in a standing in a group of normal people,
presumably his friends, and they were acting totally normal to him.
He seemed so confident and sure of himself, having fun there at the
beach.  Something drew me to him.  And then I saw how gentle and
vulnerable he too, like myself, when I went over with her and she
told him.  Seeing his face, his reaction at her news, my heart cried
out for him because I know what it feels like.  Well not exactly,
his momentary loss and sadness pale in comparison to mine, but I
still know what he instantly felt.  O.K.  Yes.  I want to get to
know him.  I want to be accepted.  I want a friend who knows I'm
queer and it doesn't matter to.  In fact I guess you could say that
I want his life.  But do I want him?  Hmmm.  I don't know how or
why, but yes.

There.  There it is.  I want to be with Chris.  He wants to be with me.  I
don't know him and I am so fucking unbelievably nervous.  What if he
meets me and doesn't like me.  What if he doesn't want to be with me
because I am a closet case?  What if he outs me?  He sounds gay,
really.  Will hanging out with him give me away to people too?  But
can I learn his confidence?  Can I steal his self worth?  Haha.  Why
am I such a looser?  Most importantly, am I now afraid to love and
be loved?

Anyways, changing the subject, I know it's perverted but I masturbate in the
shower.  I know I get afforded a lot of privacy, but still it's the
only place I get enough guaranteed privacy during the daytime to get
a quick one off before anyone gets suspicious as to what the hell
I'm up to.  Looking at my body as the water starts to cascade over
me I wish I had a treasure trail.  They are so sexy, but I guess
being basically smooth works too.  So, after shaving my sac and
crack so the only hair down there is a patch above my dick, I get
right down to business under the running water.  If I don't I'm
liable to shoot off in my shorts with Chris today!  I've been
exploring myself more lately, trying to add a physical aspect to my
mental image of Daniel inside me, like I sometimes do with a wine
bottle in bed.  That's what I really want.  I know I haven't
experienced it with a girl, and I've only actually experienced it
the once for that matter, but there can be no better feeling than
the way two guys hips connect.  With Daniel lying down on my bed, as
deep inside me as he could go, it was so incredible the way the
front of his hips pressed against my butt and hips.  The sex was
uncomfortable at best, but after moving up and down him only a few
times I was in ecstasy.  It hardly took any jerking on my part to
make myself spray cum all over him.  And right then as I tensed up I
could feel his body spasm and his hips thrust up hard against me as
he filled the condom.  I cried, it was all too much.  With him still
solid inside me I leaned forward and made out madly with him.  I
professed my love for him then, quoting Cheap Trick's `The Flame'
telling him he was the first and wherever he goes I'll be with him.
That feeling is what I have silently longed for since.  Yes, of
course the emotional was bliss, but also the physical part that was
created in the presence of that emotional part.  In that moment I
wished I could have remained forever connected to him physically; it
just felt so right.

So I've showered, I have my work uniform in a gym bag over my shoulder, and
I'm about to head out the door to catch the bus.  I've picked out a
pair of light tan cargo shorts and a damn expensive white, red and
black Quicksilver shirt.  I've gone with a fresh new pair of 2(x)ist
athletic briefs that were to be a match for the pair I planned on
giving Daniel for Valentine's day.  I chose white ankle socks
because I only have a single pair of grey, red and black runners for
shoes aside from my dress shoes and work shoes.  I've laboured over
styling my hair so that it's `just so' and splashed myself with too
much Polo Sport.  Maybe I should bring that and my deodorant with me
because I am sweating!

Wish me luck Journal!


*       **    *    *

Part 3: Confusion Rolls In

As soon as I get off the bus I see him just down the street parked in front
of the restaurant by the road.  From the distance, maybe 300 feet,
he looks quite good.  My breath hitches momentarily, my already
racing heart is in my throat and I have mad butterflies in my
stomach.  Last chance to bail out.  No, he's smiling at me.  He's
seen me already.  Well here I am, here goes!  I walk as casually as
possible around his Jeep.  I fumble getting into it, the lack of a
door throwing me off.

"Nice wheels," I compliment.

"Yeah, thought you'd like them.  My Dad's probably going to give me one soon
because I keep harassing him to bring this one home from the
dealership.  My Mom hates it, says it's not safe." He replies
through an absolutely beaming smile.

He reaches over to kiss me.  I don't lean towards him, fuck that, I'm not
`out'!  The radio is playing.  Duran Duran's Ordinary World leads
into a pop/dance song called One For Sorrow, by a British group
named Steps.  I've heard the song before, but at the moment here in
Chris's car it really moves me.  Fuck, thoughts of Daniel are
bringing involuntary tears to the corners of my eyes.  I hide them
as I apologize for not kissing him by trying on his sunglasses that
were on my seat.

"Don't worry.  I didn't think.  I'm the one that should be sorry." Chris
corrects me, before asking, "So what do you want to do?"

I counter, "I dunno.  It's your big plan.  What did you have in mind?"

A big, and I mean hugely big grin flashes in response.

Defensive, feeling on the spot I snap back in response, "We're not going
there Chris.  Not today.  Look, I'm really nervous about all of
this.  Can we just get going somewhere so that someone from work
doesn't see me?"

"Not to worry stud.  I don't fuck on the first date so chill.  I was just
teasing.  You asked what I had in mind, and fucking you is all I've
had in mind since I first saw you.  I can hold off a bit longer.
But I do want to have my way with your gorgeous body sooner than
later!"  He says it as it is.

Shifting in my seat as he starts to back out of the parking spot I notice a
few X-Man comics in a bag behind his seat.  I've seen a few at
Tim's; his brothers Sam and Will are rabid X-Men and Spiderman fans
respectively.  I've been intrigued by them, but I don't pick one up
to look at because Tim shows no interest in them.  So how can I
then?  In a different element here, knowing that it must be Chris' I
pick them up to look at.  The first one has a Japanamation cover of
Iceman and some chick.  Fuck, is it stupid that I think Iceman
actually looks hot?  It is a comic after all!

Chris is slightly red in the cheeks at my discovery, so to break the moment
he suggests, "How about we swing by my place this afternoon.  I
don't want to go there just yet until my family goes to the church
fundraiser brunch though.  Maybe we can go catch a matinee or
something?"

"I dunno.  The malls aren't open and I can't think of any place that shows
matinees this early in the morning.  Why aren't you with your family
at church?" I argue.

"My parents go out of guilt to my grandparents, but they feel that I
shouldn't have to be subjected to a religion that denounces and
admonishes me."  He informs before whining, "Well what do you want
to do then?"

"Hmm.  How about breakfast somewhere?" I offer; my mind so in a fog somehow
that I can't recall if I even ate this morning.

In unison we both say "Denny's."  So Denny's it is.

It's only a block away from my work, so we have to turn around to go to it
because we've already passed it.

Focusing on the dashboard of the Jeep because I don't particularly like the
lack of a door beside me, it dawns on me who Chris might be.
Milner.  As in the son of either Dom or Mitchell Milner of the
Milner Chrysler-Dodge-Jeep dealership and other businesses as well
as various housing buildings in Houston.

So I ask him, "Does you Dad own the dealership and those buildings?"

He sheepishly replies, "Yeah, sorta.  He and my Uncle mostly took over for
my
Grandpa after he retired a couple years ago."

"So you're Chris Milner then?" I state the obvious.

He rebuffs me, "Yeah, and you're Jon Farrrows.  It doesn't change things
right?"

"No.  I guess not.  But now I'm embarrassed." I offer.

"Embarrassed?  Why?"

"Well you probably live in a huge mansion in one of those gated communities
and I live in the slums." I explain.

"Jon.  It doesn't matter to me.  Where you live doesn't change who you are."
He says, I guess with sincerity.

O.K.  Wait a minute.  Is this banter or is this totally honest.  I don't
really know.  Do I drop my guard and be open and honest like I want
to, or do I protect myself and see how it plays out, giving him
holes to see through, but not fully exposing myself.  What does it
matter though?  I'm not sure I'm good enough to pull either off!
Well here goes, rebuffing him I say "Easy for you to say.  So why do
you like me anyway, you just think I'm cute and want to screw me and
move onto another conquest?"

Ouch.  Is this what hurt looks like on his face?  It must be.  His beaming
smile is replaced by ever so slightly trembling lips.  His bright
eyes are suddenly plain, the corners narrowed as if unconsciously
wincing.  "That's not how it is at all Jon.  If I never get to have
sex with you I'd be fine.  I mean, well, I don't know.  Sure, I get
all horny by you and want to fuck your brains out, but If I can't
I'll live just fine.  I don't know.  I'm sure I sound silly, but
from the first time I saw you it was weird, you know?  I just had to
know you somehow, if you can understand."

Yes, I know what that's like, and yes, I get it, I really get it.  For the
first time in my life I am momentarily in sync with another person.
Chris is feeling as completely insecure and unsure as me.  He
doesn't have a master plan, he doesn't even have the next move
planned out.  He is just a more expressive and obviously gay teenage
male than me.  But he isn't the super confident, what's-it-matter-to-
you, proud queer I thought he is.  He is just a normal guy, with
normal feelings and desires, only the fact that he is obviously gay
has made him comfortable with his sexuality while I still try to
hide mine at all costs.

"Shit, Chris.  I'm sorry.  I look at you and I think because you are out
that
you are more than me.  You know?  Like I feel totally nervous around
you.  I guess I'm intimidated by you."

"By me?  Ha!  Capital h, capital a, exclamation!    No one's intimidated by
me, I'm the sissy fag, remember?"

"Well you intimidate me.  You're gay and people know.  You still have
friends
and even straight ones.  Maybe you don't see it but that makes you
like a god, or a superhero or something."

We mutually feel awkward now.  Chris had parked a couple minutes ago, so to
avoid the subject from getting any further he undoes his seat belt,
quickly squeezes my hand after looking for anyone watching, and hops
out of the jeep.  "Lets go in, alright?"

It feels strange going to breakfast with Chris.  During our wait to be
seated, it feels like because we know that we're on a date that
everyone around knows too.  I tell myself that we look like any two
guys, no one gives a shit one way or the other.  But when the seater
asks us if it's just the two of us she says so in a knowing voice.
She looks us up and down, smiles and the tone in her voice gives her
bigotry away.  At least that's the inflection I think I notice.
Chris doesn't follow her, so I stay with him.

"Did you see her smirk and roll her eyes to the other girl?" He loudly asks
me.

The girl taking names looks our way and asks, "Is everything O.K.?"

"Well, no Liz, everything's not O.K.  Tell Wendy to drop the attitude.  At
school's one thing, but I can get her fired here for that."  And
with that Chris turns and heads for the door.  I can only follow
suit.

At the door a manager opens the door for us and asks how everything was.
Chris says we decided not to wait.

Ignoring the situation Chris asks, "So.  Where to now?"

Looking across the road both our eyes settle on the friendly golden arches
so
we walk across to McDonalds.

Breakfast there is quick, we don't really talk much.  Chris of course
insisted in paying for me and I feel somewhat mad at that, again I
feel inferior and poor.  I have money, I can pay for myself thank
you very much.  Why does he have to be a dick and insist?  I guess
he's doing it in a chivalrous way, but still it's a slap to my
pride.

Waiting until I finish the last bite of my pancake breakfast Chris asks,
"So.
What now?"

Full of great ideas I offer my best, "Well, I don't know.  What do you want
to do?"

"Kiss you.  Feel those soft shiny red lips of yours." He says with a nervous
laugh.

"Right here?"  I ask.

He affirms "No, I wouldn't put you on the spot here."

"Why not?" I boldly question.

"Yeah right.  Whatever." Chris brushes me off.

I feel alive with Chris I discover.  I feel somehow completely emboldened by
him.  So I counter, "Why not?  Right here.  Just a quick one?"

"Yeah right," he laughs, choking on some orange juice that he must have
snorted into his nose.

O.K.  The moment has passed.  I'm completely chickening out now anyhow so we
let the moment pass and get up, taking our trays to the garbage.

Suddenly heading to the door Chris stops dead in his tracks and announces,
"I
have to go to the washroom, come with me."

So I follow him to the washroom.  He does his thing at the urinal and then
washes his hands.  I of course tried to check him out, but got
nothing.  So I stare at his ass as he dries his hands under the
dryer.  The room is momentarily empty except for us so Chris turns
with his trademark grin and plants the quickest, most gentle peck on
me.  About to ask what the hell he's doing my lips are open as we
connect.  Chris kisses my teeth.  We both nervously laugh.  Hearing
the outer door to the washroom opening I speedily lean in to him and
plant a real peck on his lips and pull away before the new person
enters through the second washroom door.  Heading out of the place
we are both beaming with smiles.  As corny as the thought is I can't
help but think that at least it's a place where smiles are free!

Why does everything in me feel so good suddenly?

Hopping in the Jeep Chris again asks me, "So any bright ideas?"

"Nope, none." I say in dismay.  I don't want this to go this way, I want to
get to know him suddenly.  Like really get to know him and be close
to him unlike an hour ago where I was mildly curious about what he
was like and how it would be like to be like him.

He offers a solution, "O.K.  Well how about we swing by my place?  It's not
the best idea, and you might feel completely uneasy, so if you do
just say so.  But at least we can be a bit relaxed rather than feel
like everyone is watching us?"

Hmm.  What to do?  Just as my Mom seems to be, I'm on a fucking cloud.  A
nice bright, soft, fluffy cloud that I don't want to get off of.  I
fully hear what he says, I fully understand what he says, I even
think that he's completely sincere in his reasoning and not just
trying to get me into his bed.  But it's again like I'm on
autopilot.  Only this time, with Chris my autopilot is pushing me
forward rather than pulling me back like it did with Daniel.  I hear
my response and almost wonder who said it, "Sure.  I'd like that."

"O.K."  Big breath, Chris seems nervous now.  How good it feels to realize
that he's going through the exact same insecurities as me!  He
cautions me, "Now look.  I'm not trying to show off or anything,
O.K.  You have to understand that.  My house is big and I don't want
you to hate me for it or think anything about me at all because of
it.  It's my parent's house, not mine.  I'm just a seventeen year
old kid who lives there with them.  Got it?"

"Uh, yeah, sure."

Chris squeezes my hand again before backing out of the parking spot.

We drive for a couple minutes before he comes up to an immaculately treed
street.  About 100 feet into the street we stop so that a security
guard can wave to him and press a button to lift the gate.  After
passing a few dozen mansions on each side of the street a boulevard
starts in the middle of the street and widens to a picturesque park.
Not a kids park with swings and sea-saws, but an adults park with a
fountain and a pagoda.
Halfway through the park, on the right hand side of the split Chris turns
into a tree covered driveway.  After driving under about a dozen
trees on both sides the driveway opens up and a massive three level
mansion is revealed.  I had caught a glimpse of the imposing stately
old home, it's manicured flower beds and grass before we turned into
the laneway and was impressed.  Now, seeing it is his I can
understand the disclaimer he had given me prior.  I gasped.

"Yeah.  This is my home. It was the first one here, over 130 years old.
It's
been in my family since it was built by my Grandpa's Grandpa.
There's always only been one child to pass it on to until my Dad and
Uncle.  But uncle Mitch doesn't like it, says it's too stuffy so he
bought the one next door.  That one is only 40 years old or
something.  So this could be mine someday I guess.  So don't hate me
for it O.K.?"

"Chris, this is amazing.  It's so huge." I gaped.

"Yeah I know, but you don't get the tour yet.  It's too embarrassing.  My
parents have to be gone now, how about we hit the pool?"

I could protest that I don't have anything for the pool but that's obvious
to
both of us.  At least I think so, which I also think is another
reason he even offered it.  So I just agree, "Sure, sounds cool."

That set off his gift to gab, "Sweet!  Do you want to skinny dip or can I at
least see you naked when you change?  I have tons of Speedos and
some awesome ones that should fit you perfectly.  You look like you
the same build as me, I'm guessing you're 5'10" too.  I'm 160 lbs so
you're probably the same.  Just one unmentionable measurement that I
can only leave for discovery.  Or if you're modest I have lifeguard
shorts too that would look hot on you; show off you're wicked tan!"

My heart is pounding in my throat, my hands are sweaty, my shirt is soaked
in
the armpits.  But I am curious too, "What the hell, show me what you
got.  Where's you room?"

"It's a corner apartment, sort of.  I have a bedroom in the front and back
corners over there on the top floor (pointing to the right hand
side) and a couple rooms that join them."

Chris walks me purposely in through the garage entrance, impressive enough
in
itself that eight cars can park in it.  We walk down rich wood
floors and corridors to a grand staircase in the back corner of the
house that boasts the back yard views through it's many paneled
windows.  The top floor is equally as impressive as the part of the
main floor that I saw as we walk down one hallway to his rooms.  The
house is so big that it has a hallway running through it that forms
a rectangle, and rooms inside that!  His room is a slight
contradiction to the rest of the house.  Everything in the house is
so formal and tasteful, and then his room looks like any other
teenagers room, except much bigger.  He has posters of rock bands, a
guitar and drums, and a trophy shelf.  He has clothes on the floor
and plates and glasses by his computer and his T.V. and game
consoles.  He leads me to the bedroom toward the front of the house
which has poster upon poster of an Australian swimmer named Ian
Thorpe.  Some are very homoerotic the way he has them collaged on
his wall.

Stating the obvious I comment, "So, you're into swimming."

"Yeah, you could say that.  My parents tried to get me into rowing when they
made me go to private school but I prefer to swim and diving.
Except thee coaches of one don't like you to do the other and I
don't know what I like more." As he saying this he's toeing off his
shoes and then pulling his shirt off and tossing it onto a dresser.
Looking at me he pauses and then slides open a dresser drawer and
offers, "Sorry.  I forgot my manners.  If you want to change in
another room I totally understand I guess.  So did you want the
shorts or the Speedo?"

"Well the way you raise you eyebrow at the Speedo I guess I'll go with that.
I've never worn one before though, so don't stare or I'll probably
pee myself in your pool."  I tried to laugh it off.  Problem is my
6" friend currently is pointing directly north in my shorts as I
stare at his shorts sitting low on white underwear band that still
are sitting low on his exposed hips.  Chris is completely smooth, no
hair even on his legs or arms and I can see that as low as his
shorts are sitting that there certainly is no treasure trail either.

He fishes out a navy blue Speedo with white and red stars and stripes
designs
on it.  Handing it to me he holds my hand, pulls me towards him and
kisses me.  He reaches into his drawer again and pulls out a thin
white jockstrap.  We start kissing pretty passionately and next
thing I notice his hand is rubbing the jockstrap over my shorts
along the length of the shaft of my dick.  We stumble-walk over to
the bed, keeping our lips locked the whole time.  My face feels
flush, I know my cheeks are burning red like when I get embarrassed.
Thing is though, I'm not embarrassed.  At least I don't think so.
My hand has slipped under the waistband of his briefs and now too is
exploring Chris's member.  It feels slightly longer than mine, and
as it gets more aroused I judge it to be at least as thick as mine.
His free hand moves from the back of my neck to my chest and he
firmly pushes me onto the bed.  I want this to happen.  Split second
decision has given me the green light rather than saying that I
don't want this.  I just want it to be gentle.  I want Chris to go
down on me and make love to me.  He certainly has a talent for the
way he's getting my body excited.  I'm guessing he has a lot more
experience than me.

Chris peels off my shirt, unfastens my belt and has my shorts at my knees
deftly, almost maintaining our kissing the whole way.  I fumble with
his shorts for a while until he hooks his thumbs under the waistband
and shucks them with style.  Oh geez, yeah he is well endowed; the
wet, pulsating tip of his penis is staring at me, having escaped the
waistband of his briefs as he has me lying back on his bed.  He is
straddling me and as I look for signs of a tan line I see nothing.

I flip upright into a sitting position and as he kneels upright I hook an
arm
around his waist and he falls over onto his side on the bed.  I want
his dick so bad I'm shaking.  Just as I'm about to engulf it into my
mouth for the first tentative time Chris puts the breaks on, "Jon,
stop.  I'm ready for this, but are you?"

"Oh fuck yeah, Chris.  You're too good to pass up on.  I knew that the
moment
I saw you, and you're extremely nice to boot.  I want to make you
happy Chris.  Let me?"

"You're so sweet Jon.  I'd love for you to, I only wanted to make sure you
were cool with it because of what you said earlier about not going
here today."

"I wasn't comfortable with you then."

"And you are now?"

"Not really," I laugh.

Chris laughs back until I touch the tip of his beautiful tool with my
tongue.
Then he gasps.  We're on our sides, our faces buried in each other's
crotches.  I can smell his soap, I can see the precum on his briefs.
I can taste the smooth, clean flesh as it searches out the back of
my mouth.

Chris slips my cargo's the rest of the way off and then grabs at the pouch
of
my 2xist sports briefs, slipping the pouch off to the side of my
dick.  I want to see and taste all of Chris so I try to slip his
briefs off.  They are Armani briefs, with a really nice ribbed
pattern to them.  But I am clumsy as usual so Chris raises his hips,
slips them down to his knees, and then off.  Again, he does so with
grace.  I grab them from his hand and use the soft material to rub
the globes of his ass with as I try with my all to swallow Chris to
the base.  When a finger slips in between his cheeks I discover that
he is entirely smooth.  The only hair on his whole body is his short
light golden blonde top, his eyelashes, and his trimmed eyebrows.

He touches me in a way indicating that he wants me to lift my hips up.  I do
as he motions for me to.  Plop, my dick is now totally free from the
underwear and he is slipping them down my legs and hooking them free
of my feet.  As he does so he bottoms out in my mouth and his sac is
briefly directly under my nose.  There is a slightly sweaty smell,
and his legs are moist in the folds between them and his sac.  As
his attention starts to focus on my swollen member I leave his alone
and start tonguing this newly exposed area around his ball sac.  His
moans and wild thrashing instantly tell me that I have found a good
spot for him.  My none is nearly in his bud ad he repositions his
top leg to allow me maximum access.  He is going wild, deep
throating me and exploring my ass crack with a finger when I start
to lick the area of skin directly behind his sac.  I work this area
alternately, while letting my tongue discover his bud in between, my
hand jacking his dick all the while.

I don't think I am giving him near the pleasure that he is giving me when he
warns me, "Step off Jon, I'm gonna blow!  I'm about to cum!"

Like that bother's me!  Duh!  That's the whole idea, silly!  So I continue
on
and suddenly my tongue is forced out of his bud forcefully and I get
rewarded with a few warm splashes on my neck and chest.  I was
nearing orgasm myself when he pulled off to warn me, and then again
when he reached orgasm and stopped his attention on my dick.

"Oh, man!  Thank you, Jon!" He panted, "Are you close?"

"I was, but I've lost it." I inform him.

Chris twists me on my back in response and starts favouring me the way I had
just done to him.  I start jacking off as his tongue whips me back
into the throws of ecstasy.  He senses I am starting to get close so
he stops and slides up my torso.  Sucking up all of his load that he
can off of me he returns to my bud and forces it and his tongue in
as far as my body will allow.  I am thrashing, my hips and legs are
bucking but still after a few mini orgasms I can't climax.  Chris's
tongue is quickly replaced with not one but two wiggling fingers and
his mouth takes me to the base again, resting his nose in my bush
every time he bobs down on me.  Fuck yeah!  That does it.

"Oh Chris!  I'm gonna cum!"  I warn.

Chris backs off on the deep throating, keeping the tip of me still in his
warm mouth and uses his free hand to jack me off while his other
hand is double penetrating me and it's thumb is massaging the area
behind my balls.  It's the second time this morning I cum, and as
Chris captures my seed I feel faint.  Like a pro he slips his
fingers out of me while I am still shooting so that I don't feel
discomfort after.  Once I'm done he slinks his now slick body up my
equally sweaty body and presents my mouth with the gift he just
captured.  We make out for a little while, both swallowing my load.
We then snuggle our now spent bodies together as we regain our
breaths.  Man, we smell, but what a smell!  I think I could get used
to him real easily.

Fumbling around Chris finds the swimmer's jock and the Speedo he'd
previously
offered me and says, "Let's go for a swim, Sexy."

As my euphoria fades, I've got mad butterflies in my stomach again.
Ah fuck!  What have I just done!

*    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *

Sorry  that this one took a lot longer to post.  Thanks  for
continuing to read and for the encouraging feedback!   I  am
trying  to  get to this when I can, as much as I  can,  time
permitting.  Life has just gotten very busy lately and  with
hope it will all settle down soon enough.    ~Jake