Date: Thu, 21 Sep 2000 20:11:49 -0700 (PDT)
From: Brew Maxwell <brew_drinker23@yahoo.com>
Subject: My First Year with Kevin, Chapter 20

The following is a work of fiction, and any resemblance to real people or
events is purely coincidental.  The story contains graphic descriptions of
sex between men, and anyone who is forbidden by law to read such material
must exit the story now.  This story is being posted to the Nifty Archive
for the enjoyment of its readers.  It may not be posted or distributed by
any other medium without the written permission of its author.

My other works in the Nifty Archive include Unusual Christmas and Nick's
Adventures, both in bisexual/high school, First Mate and Twin Spin in
gay/incest, The Dancer and Call-Boy Journal in gay/encounters, and From
Slave to Houseboy in gay/authoritarian.

E-mail comments are always welcome.


My First Year With Kevin

Chapter 20

	The rest of the spring sped by.  It got hot much earlier in New
Orleans than it did in San Diego--if you could ever really call it getting
hot there--and Kevin and I continued our sports and the other aspects of
our lives together.
	Kevin's baseball team made it into the quarter finals for state,
but they lost to a team from Shreveport.  I fully expected him to be moody
and depressed after that, but, the night they lost, he came into my room in
just his jockstrap.  He made a kind of ceremony of prancing around in it.
He was like an Indian brave doing some sort of victory dance.  He took it
off, flicked a lighter, and set the jockstrap on fire before my eyes.  He
got my metal trashcan and held it over it as it burned until the flames
started to threaten his hand.  He dropped it into the trashcan, which,
fortunately, was empty, and watched it burn out.
	"What was that all about," I asked.
	"It was about the end of my identity as a jock.  I ain't no jock
anymore."
	"I thought you liked being a jock," I said.
	"I love playing sports.  I hate the image of being a 'jock.'"
	"What's the difference," I asked.
	"Being a jock means having a set of attitudes and values I just
don't have.  Being a jock means picking on guys who are weak and who aren't
jocks.  Being a jock means being homophobic.  Being a jock means being an
asshole."
	"When did you realize this," I asked.
	"When I met you."
	"You mean, you've always felt this way?"
	"No.  I mean when I met you last summer.  Really met you.  Not when
we were fucking two-year-olds, or whatever the hell it was."
	"I'm kind of a jock, though, Kevin.  Aren't I?"
	"Not really, Matt.  You're an athlete, sure, but you're into golf
and tennis.  Jocks are into football and baseball.  There's a tremendous
difference between being an athlete and being a jock.  I like to think I'm
an athlete, too, because I don't have jock prejudices.  I love sports.  You
know that.  And I'll always be a big fan of football and baseball.  I'll
probably play them again, too, in league competition.  But I cannot be a
jock.  And that's final."
	I was silent for a long time.  Then I said,
	"I thought I knew you, Kevin, but you constantly amaze me.  Have
you ever acted out the 'jock role'?"
	"Yes, I have.  Please don't hate me for this, but I've busted some
balls of effeminate guys.  I hate myself now for doing it, but I did it
because I was a jock and other jocks expected me to do it."
	"But you were the one who told me effeminate guys can't help that.
That is just the way they are.  You told me that in that restaurant months
ago."
	"I know, Matt, and I'm so fucking sorry I did that shit."  He
started to cry.  "That was so fucking wrong, man.  That was so fucking,
fucking wrong, man.  I hate myself for doing that."
	He truly went to pieces on me.  I didn't know how to react.
	"I've never seen you do that," I said.
	"Yeah," he sobbed, "but that was before I met you."
	I was taken aback.
	"Do you see me as effeminate?"
	"Jesus Christ, man.  You know I fucking don't.  How could you even
ask that question?"
	"I'm sorry, Babe.  It was just the context.  You said you picked on
effeminate guys before you met me, and I changed your mind about that.  I
know you love me, so I just assumed you were cool with effeminate guys
because of me."
	"We've been over this before, man.  You should know I don't think
you're effeminate.  Goddamn it, Matt.  Help me here."
	"I'm sorry, Babe.  I know you don't think I'm effeminate.  I'm
sorry."
	"We're gay, but we're not feminine gays.  Neither of us.  Neither
are our dads.  You can be masculine and gay at the same time.  We are."
	"I know, Kevin.  I'm sorry I upset you."  He was much calmer by
then.  "Do you want to go out," I asked.  "Have some fun?"
	"Tomorrow night.  Tonight I want to stay here and have fun with
you.  'You make me so very happy.  I'm so glad you came into my life.'"
	We had been sitting on the edge of my bed.  He was already naked,
so I took off my briefs and pulled him into bed with me.  We kissed for a
few minutes, and I started getting hard.  There wasn't a similar reaction
from Kevin, though, so I decided to use my mouth on his dick to help him
along.  I got down to his crotch area and took his dick into my mouth.  He
moaned softly when I got him inside, and I could feel his dick begin to
thicken.  I looked up, and he had his eyes closed, which wasn't his style
at all.  I released his dick and listened to his breathing.  I heard the
slow, regular breath of Kevin asleep.  He had had a hard day and an even
harder night at the game.  I smiled at my precious boy, snuggled next to
him, and drifted off to sleep.

	The next morning, a Saturday, we slept until ten o'clock.  We woke
up more or less simultaneously.  Hard, of course.  Kevin got up to piss,
and I was right behind him.  As we stood together at the urinal, he turned
to me.
	"Good morning, sleepyhead," I said.
	"What happened last night," he asked.  There was an edge of concern
in his voice.
	"Nothing happened.  We went to sleep."
	"Yeah, but you wanted something to happen, and I let you down,
didn't I?"
	"You didn't let me down, Kevin."
	"Yes, I did.  I feel like pure shit.  I'm going to get into the
toilet, and I want you to flush me down."
	I laughed, but his whole demeanor was completely serious.
	"Matt, I. . . "
	"Shhhhhhhh," I said.  "You were tired, and you went to sleep.  No
big deal, Babe."
	"Jesus, I feel so bad.  I would never deny you sex, Matt.  Never."
	"You didn't *deny* me sex.  You went to sleep, Babe, pure and
simple."
	"What self-respecting fag goes to sleep during a blowjob?"
	That was too much.  I howled with laughter.
	"What," he asked.
	"You.  You come up with stuff that comedians would kill for, that's
what."
	"So, you tink I'm funny?  How am I funny?  Huh?  Just how the
*fuck* am I funny?"  He was doing a very good imitation of the Joe Peche
character from the movie _Good Fellas_, and it was hilarious.
	When I had finished laughing, I said, "Shake your dick off and get
you ass back into that bed.  I'll show you how you're funny."
	"Shake it for me," he said.  I knew he was serious about that.  He
often wanted me to hold his dick while he pissed.  He thought that was
extremely intimate, and, frankly, so did I.
	I reached over and took his dick in my hand.  I squeezed it a few
times, and then I gently shook it.  Because his dick was so big, even soft,
I made the end of it flap up and down pretty hard.
	"Beat it against the urinal," he said.
	I did as he asked.  We could hear the metal of his PA ring clink
against the porcelain.  His dick also started getting big.  After a few
more gentle taps on the urinal, it was too hard for me to manipulate like
that any longer.  I led him by it back to bed.
	Once in bed, he got on top of me and kissed me.  His tongue did
some amazing things to my tongue, and I got hard in a matter of seconds.
He started rubbing up and down on me, and I started thrusting under him.
Our cocks were in contact.  Kevin reached between us and hooked our PA
piercings together.  That restricted our range of movement considerably,
but it caused one of those moments of intimacy that Kevin loved so much and
that I was taking increasing pleasure in, too.
	It took us a long time to get each other off like that, and I think
I enjoyed the intimacy of the whole thing as much, or more, than I enjoyed
my orgasm.  Neither of us held back cum that time.  Lately, it seemed, we
both sort of knew intuitively when to hold back and when to shoot.  It
splashed up onto our bellies and chests.  We lay there, our dicks linked
together, and our skin bonding as our semen dried.
	"Did you like doing that," Kevin asked me.
	"Very much," I said, and then I kissed him tenderly.  He kissed me
back, but it was just as tender and without the passion of before.
	"Are you ready to get up," he asked.
	"Yeah.  Let's take a shower together.  Do you want to?"
	"Of course."  And we did.
	We took a long time in the shower, and, of course, we got hard.
	"I want you to fuck me," Kevin said.
	I got behind him as he spread his legs and braced himself on the
shower wall.  I entered his anus with practiced ease, and I started
stroking into him almost immediately.  He found my rhythm, and we had
another glorious encounter.

	Easter was in late April that year, and that's when we had what
both schools referred to as "Spring Break."  We only had Good Friday and
Easter Monday off, but it gave us a nice four-day weekend to relax, catch
up on school work, and even do a little reading for the AP exams that would
start the second week of May.  We didn't go anywhere for Spring Break, and
the weather was wet and rather chilly.  Mostly, we hung out at home.
	Easter Monday dawned beautiful, though, so we decided to drive
across the lake for the day.  Kevin called Brian to ask him to turn on the
heater in the pool and to let him know we were coming.  Kevin called Todd
to see if he wanted to go with us, but he took a rain check.  We wondered
what he and Jonathan had planned for the day.
	During the drive across the lake, Kevin said something rather odd.
	"I wish school was over."
	"Well, it almost is, Babe. Just a few more weeks, and then we'll be
off for the whole summer," I said.
	"No.  I mean really over.  We'll start again in the fall, and that
kind of depresses me."
	"Yeah, but we'll be in college.  That'll be fun, won't it," I
asked.  His tone of voice and the way he was acting had me concerned.  "You
do want to go to college, don't you," I asked.  I intended it as a joke.
	"You want my deepest, darkest, most honest answer," he asked.
	"Kevin, you're scaring me, man.  But, yeah, I do."
	"No.  I really don't want to go to college.  At least not right
away.  Not immediately.  I'd love to take a year off and just travel and
see places.  Hell, I've never even had a fucking job, have you?"
	"No.  I haven't."
	"Aren't you curious about what it's like to work in a restaurant or
a store or something?  Don't you want to know what guys our age experience
as just a matter of course?"
	"Frankly, that had never occurred to me, but I see your point," I
said.
	"We've been privileged all our lives, and everybody we know is
rich, or at least well off.  Hell, you and I are rich.  We'd never have to
work a day in our lives, and we'd still live rich," he said.
	"Babe, where's this going," I finally asked.
	"Well, nowhere, probably.  My grandfather bummed around for a
couple of years before he went to college, and I've heard Frank say more
than once he wishes he'd done the same thing.  Besides, I don't have a
fucking clue about what I want to study in college."
	"Well, I don't either," I said.  Then, "Have you talked to Frank
about this?"
	"Kind of indirectly.  He didn't think it was a terrible idea or
anything.  He didn't say go ahead, but he didn't tell me I was crazy,
either," Kevin said.  "But, hey, you're the most important thing in my
life, and if you want to go to college, I'm damn sure gonna be right there
with you."
	"Jesus Christ, Kevin.  How can you lay that on me, dude?"  I was a
little angry, and he knew it.
	"Settle down, man.  That happens to be the way I feel, okay?  I'm
not going to leave you, or even be separated from you for any length of
time.  Period."
	"Yeah, but then I'd feel guilty as hell that I was forcing you to
do something you didn't want to do.  You know what I said about me only
being happy if I make you happy.  I meant that, too, man.  I really meant
that," I said with some force.
	"Let's just drop the subject, okay?  I'm sorry I brought it up," he
said.
	"Let's examine that, now.  This is obviously something you've been
thinking about, and it affects both of our lives.  How can you be sorry you
brought it up?"
	"I don't say everything that goes through my mind, Matt.  You and I
are very intimate, but I still have thoughts that are my own.  We can't
share everything with each other."
	"Well, why not?  You used to talk about intimacy.  At first, some
of the things you wanted to do in the name of intimacy embarrassed me or
made me feel stupid.  After a while, though, I got hooked on it.  Are we
too close, now?  Do you feel like you need some space?"
	"God, I wish you hadn't said that, Matt.  That sounds like the
opening line of a break-up speech.  Believe me, I've heard and given some
of those.  I never want to lose you.  I never want us to be anything but
total and complete life partners.  I know we're not ready for that yet, but
that's my goal.  I was kind of testing the waters, you know?  We've never
even discussed *not* going to college.  We've both just assumed that that
was our next step in life, but it doesn't have to be."
	"Have you heard me say I can't be happy without going to college,"
I asked.
	He thought for a moment.  "You haven't said it, but isn't that how
you feel?"
	"I don't know how I feel.  I've always assumed I'd go to college.
It's just a new idea for me."
	"Well, I didn't say not ever go to college.  I said for a year,
maybe two.  I mean, it's not like we have to get educated and then get
married so we can start our family before we get too old."
	I couldn't help myself on that one.  I laughed hard.  He eventually
saw the humor in what he said and laughed, too.
	"Plus, man, we're fucking rich, and we're only going to get richer.
Do you think people are going to say, 'Well, we can't have the Smythe boys
over for dinner.  We only entertain *college-educated* rich faggots.'"
	Again, he made me laugh.
	"Not only that, I'm not against college.  I just want some
breathing room," he said.
	"Don't you think it would be harder to go back if we stayed out for
a while?  That's what you always hear."
	"Yeah, it might be for most people who have to work for a living
and who have wives and children to support.  But will either of those
things be true of us?  I don't think so," he said.
	"Won't people be disappointed in us if we don't go straight to
college," I asked.
	"Buddy, you and I aren't going *straight* to anything, college
included."
	It took me a second to catch his pun, and I laughed.
	"You know what I mean, Kevin," I said, after I had finished
laughing.
	"Yeah, I do.  But do you care?  Whose opinion do you care about?
Morris?"
	"Yeah, right.  Actually, he joined the navy as an enlisted man
right out of high school.  He was in for four years, got out, went to
college, became a lawyer, and went back in as an officer.  He says those
four years really made him grow up.  Ironically, of everybody, he'd
probably understand the easiest."
	"Well, we don't have to commit today.  Think about it, though, will
you," he asked.
	"Kevin, how the fuck do you think I couldn't think about what
you've said?"
	"Good point.  We're almost there."

	The place across the lake was in tip-top shape when we got there.
Brian and Jeff had planted a million flowers, and the lawns were lush and
thick.  We didn't even go inside the house.  Instead, we went around the
side of the house to the pool.  Kevin opened the poolhouse and got towels
and sunscreen for us.  Then we got naked and spread out on the lounge
chairs to get some sun.
	After we had been in place for thirty minutes or so, Kevin got a
call on his cell phone.  It was Brian, calling to see if we had made it
there yet.
	"Yeah, we're here," Kevin said.  "Why don't you and Jeff come on
down.  We're at the pool."
	Pause.
	"We haven't been in yet."  Kevin got up and stuck his foot in the
pool.  "But it feels just right."
	Pause.
	"Just Matt and me."
	Pause.
	"Shit, we didn't even think about that."
	Pause.
	"That'll be great.  By the way, the place looks beautiful, with all
the flowers and all."
	Pause.
	"Okay, see you in a little while.  Bye."
	Kevin disconnected the call.
	"It was Brian.  He and Jeff are coming down and bringing a picnic.
Can you believe we forgot about needing something to eat?"
	"Great.  It'll be good to see them," I said.  "And, no, I can't
believe we forgot about food.  Actually, it crossed my mind, but I assumed
there was food here."
	"Well, there probably is, but it would be frozen.  This'll be good,
though."
	We went back to our reading and sunbathing.  In a few minutes,
Kevin got up and took a leak in the flower bed.  Then he dove into the
pool.
	"Whooooa," he said, as he surfaced.  "It's colder than I thought it
would be."
	"Too cold," I asked.
	"Nah.  But cold."
	Kevin swam about fifty laps, and, when he came out, his muscles
were pretty pumped up.  I felt my dick putting on weight just looking at
him in that condition.  He was so goddamn beautiful to me.  I thought he
was a god.
	"You want a beer," he asked me.
	"Yeah, please."
	He got two ice cold beers out of the refrigerator in the poolhouse.
He twisted off the cap and handed me mine.
	"Thanks."
	"You're welcome."  There was a pause.  "Matt, you don't have to
thank me when I do stuff like that."
	"I know, but it's a habit.  You don't usually say thank you to me
when I do stuff like that, but that's okay."
	"Do you wish I would?"
	"No.  Not really.  Why should you?"
	"Exactly.  And why should you?  I got you the beer because I wanted
to, and I wanted to because I love you.  Saying 'thank you' is so formal.
It's like you can't tell me to do stuff for you, or something."
	"Did that bother you that I said 'thank you'?"
	"Yes and no.  That's one of those little things that seem too petty
to talk about, usually.  But I do stuff like that for you because I love
you, not because I think of you as a guest or something.  Hell, I don't
know what the fuck I'm talking about."
	I thought about that for a few seconds.  "I know what the fuck
you're talking about.  You're saying that our relationship should be so
intimate that we should take things like that for granted.  Right?"
	He thought for a second, too.  "Yeah.  That's exactly right.  At
the dinner table, if I say, 'Matt, can I have the salt,' and you pass it, I
don't say 'thank you.'"
	"Yeah, but you usually say 'please.'"
	"I know.  I guess it's the same habit you're talking about.  It was
the way I was raised."
	"Well, there's no shame in being polite to one another, is there?"
	"Of course there's no shame," he said.  "I guess my point is, I
want you to expect me to be nice to you, to do things for you.  If you
thank me all the time, it's like saying you don't expect that.  Am I being
neurotic about this, or what, Matt?"
	"No, Babe.  I know what you mean.  Gimme a smoke."
	He passed me the pack that was nearest to him, and he lit it for
me.  I didn't say "thanks" on purpose, which I was inclined to do.
	"You didn't say either 'please' or 'thank you.'  Didn't that feel
more natural?  Like my doing that was something you had a right to because
I love you and want to please you?"
	"Kevin, I really do see what you mean, dude.  And I realize the
significance of what you're saying.  I want to do little shit like that for
you because I love you, and I don't really want to be thanked because that
sort of implies I don't have the right to demand the same of you.  God, you
are so insightful.  It's the intimacy thing, isn't it?"
	"It's all about intimacy, Matt.  If we're totally intimate, then
you can tell me to do anything.  If I don't want to--and we're totally
intimate--I'll say no.  And that will be okay with you.  That's why I got
so freaked out a couple of weeks ago when I went to sleep when you were
blowing me.  How could I do that?  By the way, the way you handled that was
wonderful.  You saved me from enormous embarrassment."
	"I told you then what had happened.  That's not even part of our
history together, okay?"
	"Okay.  I see your point.  Do you see mine about the 'please' and
'thank you'?"
	"Yes, I do.  Now get your ass up and get us another beer."
	He laughed, but he got us a second beer.

	Brian and Jeff drove up a few minutes later.  I checked my watch,
and it was almost 1:30.  They had four pizza boxes with them, and I was
really ready to eat.  I was sure Kevin had already started to digest his
own stomach by then.  He was a much bigger eater than I was, and I was sure
by then the two sausage biscuits we had had for breakfast were long gone.
	We shook hands all around with Brian and Jeff.  I noticed Brian had
his camera bag, and I wondered what he had in mind.  We moved to a table,
and we dove into the pizzas.  Kevin got beers for Brian and Jeff, but our
second ones were still mostly full.  I noticed they didn't say "thanks"
when he put them down, and, all of a sudden, what we had been talking about
earlier became much clearer to me.
	After we ate, we spent the time playing.  First, we played some
two-on-two basketball, and we won, thanks to Kevin.  We played clothes and
skin, and he and I were skin, of course.  Then we swam.  Around five
o'clock, we wanted a snack, so we got out the remains of the pizzas.  There
was a whole one and part of another one left, and we polished off all of
that in no time.
	"Are you going to run Sex Camp again this summer, Kevin," Jeff
asked.
	"I don't know.  Do you want me to?"
	"Of course," all three of us said in unison.
	"Well, then, it's a positive 'maybe.'"
	We all laughed, but I noticed his eyes indicate that he was
thinking seriously about it.  In light of our conversation on the way over,
I doubted there would be any sex camp.

	The rest of the school year sped by.  Kevin and I didn't really
talk about going to college again, but it was on my mind a good bit.  One
day when Denis and I were alone, I brought it up to him.
	"Denis, what would you say if I took a year off before going to
college," I asked.
	I expected him to be dead set against the idea, but his reaction
rather surprised me.
	"Have you and Kevin been talking about that," he asked.
	"Some.  Yeah."
	"That's what he wants to do, isn't it?"
	I nodded.
	"Well, Frank and I have discussed it too, and, frankly, we can't
find any truly compelling arguments why you guys shouldn't.  You've both
been pretty insulated all of your lives.  Frank's father bummed around for
a couple of years during the Depression in the 1930's, and Frank says his
dad claimed it made a man out of him.  I think Frank's always regretted not
sowing some wild oats in his youth."
	"What about you?  Have you regretted not doing that?  Not taking
some time off from school after high school?"
	"You know, if you had asked me that a year ago, I would have said
'absolutely not' without so much as a second thought.  But you and Kevin
are in a very different set of circumstances than Frank and I were.  For
one thing, we had Vietnam to contend with."
	"What do you mean by that," I asked.
	"Well, once you turned eighteen, you had to register with your
local draft board.  Military service was mandatory, even during peace time,
and during the Vietnam War men were getting drafted the day after they
finished high school, if they had already turned eighteen."
	"What did college have to do with that," I asked.
	"You could get a deferment, if you were in college.  That's why so
few middle class kids were in that war.  It was fought largely by
minorities and other people from lower income groups who couldn't afford
college.  If I had taken a year off, my ass would have been in uniform."
	"That sort of explains Morris' situation.  He joined the navy right
after high school."
	"A lot of guys did that to avoid the army," Denis said.  "If you
joined you had to stay in longer, but you had a choice about what you
received training to do.  You were much less likely to end up as cannon
fodder than you were in the infantry."
	"You said a year ago you would have said 'absolutely not' without
thinking.  What about now?"
	"Now, I don't really think it's a bad idea for a young boy to taste
life on his own before he goes on to school.  I assume you don't know what
you want to major in.  Am I right?"
	"You're right.  I don't have a clue."  Pause.  "Kevin said he and I
are both rich.  Is that true?"
	"As a matter of fact, you are.  He has more money than you do, but
I can assure you that you'd never have to work and could still live a very
grand lifestyle.  Frank and I work because work is our passion.  We don't
have to work, either, of course."
	"How much are we talking about, Dad," I asked.
	"I don't know, for sure.  The money is all in trust funds, but I'd
say your annual income after taxes on earnings would be about a hundred and
fifty thousand.  Kevin's would be more like three hundred thousand.  He
inherited half of his mother's estate."
	I was stunned and weaken by his words.  Kevin had been right.  We
were rich.
	"And of course you'll both inherit a bundle when Frank and I die."
	"But don't die, okay," I said, the little kid coming out in me.
	He laughed.  "Oh, okay.  We won't."
	I laughed with him on that line.
	"When do we start getting money," I asked.  "I mean, would we have
enough to live on for a year or two?"
	"You can start getting it now, if you want.  We haven't done
anything about that because you haven't needed it.  In fact, I'd recommend
you not get the whole earnings even if you decide to take time off.  You
can live well on fifty or sixty thousand a year."
	"You mean it's our decision?  You and Frank won't say no if we
decide to do it?"
	"How can we say no, Matt?  You're both adults, and it's your money.
We don't have any objections to you guys seeing a little of life in the
real world, of traveling on your own."
	That night in bed I jumped on Kevin like a tiger on raw meat fresh
from a kill.  He was usually the more aggressive of us, sexually, but that
night I was as hot as I had ever been.
	After some kissing and rubbing to get us hard, I got over him on my
knees.  "Suck my cock," I said, and he slurped it willingly into his mouth.
For the first time ever, I fucked his throat.  A couple of times he gagged
a bit, but I got it into his throat on every thrust.  In and out, in and
out I pumped.  I pinched his nipples hard, the way I knew he liked it, and
he moaned around my dick.  After several minutes of that, I started getting
close to orgasm, but I continued.  I spasmed with my dick in his throat,
and he came, too.  Neither of us shot cum.  I pulled out of his throat and
kissed him hard.
	"What the fuck did you do today," he asked.  "Drink a testosterone
cocktail?"
	I laughed.  "Am I being too rough," I asked.
	"*Fuck* no," he said.  "I'm loving it.  This is a new side of you,
and I fucking love it, Babe."
	"Good.  I figured you would.  Get on your hands and knees and get
your ass up in the air."
	He complied eagerly.  I went down on his hole, licking and tonguing
it until it was soggy.  I pushed his cheeks apart and rammed my longest
finger into him.  He moaned with pleasure.  I pulled it out and dropped a
mouthful of spit directly on his hole.  I slapped it gently a few times,
and I saw it pucker for the first time ever.
	"Oh, God, Matt.  I need your cock, man.  Now!"
	"Not yet," I said.  I played with his asshole some more, rubbing it
and the spot between it and his balls.  I was evidently driving him crazy.
	"Matt, please fuck me.  Please.  I need you in me, man.  I need
it."
	"Well, come and get it.  Fuck yourself onto me, Babe.  Push right
onto my dick."
	He did it perfectly, and I went all the way in without any
resistance.  "Now fuck yourself on my cock.  You do some work, here."
	Kevin immediately started to shove back onto me, and one time the
force almost knocked me off the bed.
	"Oh, Matt," he whimpered.  "Oh, Baby.  That's so good.  That's so
fucking good."
	He kept up powerful plunges onto my cock.  He ground down on my
pubic bone when I was fully inside him, and he came.  He didn't shoot, yet,
but he came in a powerful orgasm.  Had I not been all the way in him, the
intense contractions inside his body would have popped me out.  That made
me orgasm, too, but, again, I didn't shoot.
	By that point his back and thighs were wet with sweat.  I draped my
body over his back and took over the fuck.  I rammed myself into him with
the same intensity and force he had been using.  I loved the moistness of
his skin, the slickness of it against mine.  He was supporting a good bit
of my weight on his locked arms, and I reached under him and diddled his
nipples.  We continued fucking, both of us breathing as hard as racehorses
at the end of a race.
	"I'm gonna shoot," he gasped.
	"Me, too," I said.  I pounded him three or four or five more times,
and his entire body went stiff under me.  I moved my right hand down to
cover the head of his dick, and he cried out and let loose a torrent of
sperm.  The roughest lovemaking of my life was over, but I couldn't let him
go.  He sank down onto the bed with me sill in him and still covering the
entire back of his body.
	Eventually, we separated, and I crawled up next to him in bed.
	"Jesus, Matt.  Where did that come from?  That was the fucking best
ever for me."
	"Good.  It was good for me, too, but you know I'm more inclined to
be gentle."
	"I know.  That's why is was such a wonderful surprise.  I need a
smoke."
	He got up and went into the bathroom to clean himself up.  He came
back with a warm, moist towel for my hand.  He got his cigarettes and lit
one.  He passed it to me and then lit one for himself.
	"That was so fantastic.  What came over you?"
	"I had a talk with Denis today."
	"About what?  The art of rape?"
	"Do you think I just raped you," I asked, concerned that I had been
too rough.
	"Yeah, and I loved it."  He punched me on the arm affectionately.
"Of course you didn't rape me.  But man you gave me the ride of my young
life."  He leaned over and kissed me tenderly.  "Thank you."
	"I thought we weren't supposed to say 'thank you' for stuff like
that?"
	"For ordinary stuff, Mathew.  That was way, way out of the
ordinary.  That was sublime."  Pause.  "So what did you and Denis talk
about?"
	"We talked about not going to college right away.  I've made up my
mind.  I want to take a year or two off."
	"What?!"
	"You heard me, asshole.  I want to take a year, probably two, off
to bum around with you and grow up."
	"Are you shitting me?  What did he say?"
	"I'll tell you everything, but lets go downstairs and have a drink.
It's only 10:30.  He and Frank won't be home for hours.  Plus, it's Friday
night.  We can stay up all night, if we want to."
	I made us drinks, and we snuggled together on the sofa.  I told
Kevin everything Denis and I had said to one another.
	"You've been thinking about that idea, haven't you," he asked.
	"Yes, I have.  Once you raised the possibility on that ride across
the lake, I've thought about it all the time.  It hadn't even occurred to
me that I could take time off, but you made me see it was entirely
possible."
	"So now you really like the idea," Kevin asked.
	"Now I really love the idea," I said.
	We had a couple more drinks and got more and more excited about
what we were planning.  When we got in bed, Kevin put his arms around me.
	"I love you, Matt," he said gently.  "Thank you."
	"For what?"
	"For being you," he said.
	"I thought 'thank-yous' were reserved for special things.  Now
you're confusing me, Kevin."
	"They are reserved for special things.  Very special things.
Extraordinary things.  So, thank you for being you."
	"You're trying to make me cry, aren't you?"
	"What the hell are you talking about?"
	"You know how damn sentimental I am, Kevin.  That's just about the
nicest thing you or anybody else ever said to me."
	"I love you, Babe."
	"And I love you, Kevin.  With every cell of my body.  Good night,
my love."

Both of our schools had junior-senior proms, but we both opted out of
going.  We had both gone as juniors, and neither of us was interested in
having a date with a girl we didn't know well.  We both had AP exams in
several subjects, but neither of us had to take any other exams.  Louisiana
had some weird system regarding high school seniors.  The schools had to
send the seniors' grades to the state Department of Education by the middle
of May to determine whether they received State of Louisiana diplomas.
That was bullshit, especially for the kind of schools Kevin and I went to,
but it meant that seniors were out of school from May 10th until
graduation.  His was on June 3rd, and mine was on June 5th.  That was, of
course, cool with both of us.  We hung around the house for a couple of
days, and then we decided to go on a trip to celebrate graduation before we
actually graduated.
	Since we hadn't been able to go to the beach for Spring Break like
everybody else did, we decided to go then.  We cleared it with Frank and
Denis, of course, and they were fine with the idea.  We decided to go to
Panama City Beach in Florida.  Frank and Denis had a partner who owned a
condo there, and we were able to get free use of it for ten days--basically
two weekends and the five weekdays in between.  We left around noon on the
Friday of our last AP exam, and we were there by six o'clock that night.
The condo was on the fifth floor of an eight story building, and the
apartment was beautiful.  It was right on the beach, and the large expanses
of glass made the view unbelievable.  The water in the Gulf of Mexico was
crystal clear and a beautiful blue-green.  I felt like we were in paradise.
	After we unpacked and settled in, Kevin and I went into the living
room.  We were standing at the window wall looking at the beach.  He put
his arm around my waist and pulled me in close.
	"You know what," he asked me.
	"No, what?"
	"I love you."
	"And you know what else," I asked.
	"No, what?"
	"I love you, too."
	We had played that game a million times, and the outcome was always
the same.
	We turned to face one another and kissed.  I reached down to feel
Kevin's crotch, and, just as I suspected, he was hard.  It took only a
couple of minutes of his kisses to make me as hard as he was.  When we
finally broke the kiss, Kevin started undressing me.  First he took off my
shirt, and then he started on my shorts.
	"Shouldn't we go into the bedroom," I asked.
	"Why?  Nobody could possibly see us.  There aren't any other tall
buildings nearby, at least not on this side."
	"Okay," I said.  "Let's make sure we put a shirt or something under
us so we don't get cum on the carpet."
	Kevin finished undressing me.  Then he stepped back to look.  I had
long ago gotten over any modesty I might have had at the beginning around
Kevin or other guys.  His look was one of admiration.
	"You are some gorgeous hunk of man-meat, you know it?"
	I couldn't remember his ever having said anything like that before.
I was pleased, of course, and flattered, but I was also curious about what
he was thinking.
	He started undressing himself, keeping his eyes on me all the
while.  When he was finished, he walked to where I stood and took me in his
arms.  He kissed me passionately, and we slowly lowered ourselves onto the
floor.  Kevin was unbelievably hot that night.  He licked and kissed my
face and neck, and then he moved down onto my chest.  My cock was literally
throbbing when he got to it and took it into his mouth.  He sucked and
licked my cock like he had done on only a few occasions before, and he gave
me my first orgasm that night that way.  I didn't shoot, but it took every
ounce of self-control not to.
	Next Kevin moved to my butt.  He licked my cheeks and gradually
worked his way to my anus.  When he finally got there, he spent a lot of
time licking it and caressing it with his tongue.  He inserted his tongue a
number of times.  Suddenly, I felt him go stiff, and I knew he was having a
dry orgasm.  He did that often during foreplay without any active
stimulation from me.
	Although we more or less alternated top and bottom, Kevin came up
on top slightly more often than I did.  That was perfectly all right with
me because he was much more skilled as a top than I was.  In fact, he
played my asshole the way a gifted musician would play a violin, and he was
able to bring me to the brink and back me away from it with incredible
precision.  When he finally entered me that night, he took my breath away
with pleasure.  He didn't move at first.  Instead, he brought his body up
on top of mine and kissed me deeply.
	Kevin adjusted our angle so that he had a perfect shot at my
prostate.  His PA jewelry greatly enhanced the sensation for me.  I nearly
came the first time he rubbed my sweet spot.  He noticed, of course, and
made adjustments.  I didn't count the number of his thrusts, but they
seemed to go on and on, sometimes direct hits, sometimes mere grazes, and
sometimes outside of the prostate area completely.  His control was
phenomenal.  In time, though, he decided to make me come, and, when he did,
it felt like the whole building was trembling.  My cum arched out of my
cock and hit my face on the first spurt.  After that, I spurted six or
seven more times, and I could feel Kevin emptying himself into me.  When he
finally pulled out, he grabbed one of our tee shirts and put it up under my
ass to catch cum.  He quickly wiped his dick off, and then he got beneath
me and sucked the remaining cum out of my ass.
	"Ummm, ummm, good," he said with a grin.
	I laughed.  He laughed.  Then he lay beside me, holding me to him.
If he was as content as I was, he was in heaven, too.

	In a few minutes, we sat up and lit cigarettes.
	"That was awesome, Babe," he said.
	"It was for me, too."  Then, after a short pause, "Why did you say
that about me earlier?"
	"Say what?"
	"That I was some gorgeous hunk of man-meat."
	"Cause you are."
	"Well, I appreciated the compliment, but that just wasn't like you,
Kevin."
	"I know it wasn't.  But it should be.  I thought about that driving
over here.  You were asleep when we were driving through Alabama, and I
looked at you.  I've always thought you were handsome, but I've never told
you that because it just sounded so, I don't know..."
	"Gay," I asked.
	He laughed.  "Yeah, it sounded 'gay.'"
	"Well, guess what, Babe?  We are gay."
	He laughed, but there was a tentativeness about it that was
intriguing.
	"At least, I'm gay.  One hundred percent.  Are you gay, Kevin?"
	"What do you think?"
	"I don't really think you are, at least not 100 percent.  Remember
our talking about the sexuality scale and about how some people are sliders
on that scale.  I think that's what you are, Kevin.  A slider."
	"Do you think I'm bi?"
	"I think you're whatever you want to be.  I'm not in the business
of categorizing people when it comes to their sexuality.  I know you're a
hell of a good gay lover, that much I know."
	"So what makes you think I'm not 100 percent gay?"
	"Your history, for one thing, and the fact that you get a kind of
predatory look when you see a pretty girl."
	"Oh, come on, man.  I don't do that."
	"Oh, yes, you do.  I know you're not aware of it, but you do,
Kevin."  I was warming to the topic.  I knew and sensed things about him
that I knew he didn't know or sense about himself.  "When was the last time
a girl made you get hard?"
	"You know I haven't been seeing any girls.  Come on, for God's
sake."
	"I didn't say you were.  In fact, I know you aren't.  But answer my
question."
	He blushed a little, so I knew I was probing a tender spot.
	"Today," he said, in a voice that was little more than a whisper.
	"It's nothing to be ashamed of, Babe.  Was I with you?"
	"Yeah.  When we stopped for gas in Mississippi.  I don't know if
you saw her, but this awesome chick came into the place.  I didn't get
fully hard, though.  Only a little hard."
	"But you had a sexual response to her, didn't you?"
	"Can we talk about something else, please?"
	"No.  You brought it up, and we're going to talk about it."
	"Why?"
	"Because I want to, that's why."
	"Are you afraid I'll leave you for some girl?  I won't.  I love
you, and I intend to be with you as long as you'll have me."
	"I'm not worried about that.  Besides, I love you, too, and if your
leaving me brings you greater happiness, then I'll insist on it.  That's
how much I love you."
	"You know what that comment just sounded like?"
	"No, what," I asked.
	"Todd's explanation of his relationship with Jonathan."
	"It should have sounded like that.  It's the same idea.  For me,
your happiness is all that matters."
	"What about your own?"
	"That's the point.  I can't be happy unless you are.  Dumbass."
	I knew saying something like that to him was dangerous because it
could easily start a one-upmanship match, but that time he didn't go for
it.
	"Does it embarrass you when I look at girls with--what kind of look
did you say I have?"
	"Predatory."
	"Right.  With a predatory look?"
	"Not a bit.  I look at girls, too, you know?"
	"That's exactly what I was thinking, my love.  I've seen you scope
out a nice ass or a pretty face, too, Mister 100 percent gay."
	"So maybe it's only 99.9 percent.  So cut off my balls."
	He laughed when I said that, and that lightened the atmosphere of
the discussion considerably.
	"Come on," he said, pulling me to my feet.  "Get your 99.9 percent
gay ass in the shower.  My slider ass ain't through with you yet."

	Our time at the beach was wonderful.  Kevin and I got deep, dark
tans, and we had lots of fun parasailing, running jet skis, bunjy jumping,
playing miniature golf, going to movies, eating every meal out, doing a
little shopping, and, mostly, hanging out on the beach.  We heard about a
nude beach nearby and went there a couple of days.  We made love at least
twice a day, and we just enjoyed being together.  One night Kevin asked me
if he could hold my hand as we walked along the beach in the moonlight, and
I told him yes.  That seemed to please him as much as the best blowjob I
had ever given him.
	In the car on the way home, Kevin brought up our conversation of
our first night at the beach.
	"Matt, this was probably the best week of my life," he said.  "I
love you, I'm in love with you, and I'll try not to look at any more
girls."
	"What brought that up," I asked.
	"I just wanted you to know.  You're the person I want to spend the
rest of my life with.  I never really had serious doubts, but now I know
for sure.  That is, if you'll have me."
	"Is this like a proposal or something?  Are you asking me to, like,
marry you?"
	"I guess you could look at it that way.  Yeah."
	We were on the Interstate, I was driving, and we were going 80
miles per hour.  I saw a sign that said there was a rest stop one mile
ahead, so I decided to pull over.  It took less than a minute to get to it.
	Once we had stopped, I turned to Kevin.
	"What you just said completely caught me off guard," I said.
	"I figured that, when you weren't sure whether I was proposing."
	"Kevin, I've known you just a little more than a year.  You know I
love you, just as I know you love me.  Let's get some more life behind us
before we deal with this, okay?"
	"Does that mean you want to see other guys?"
	I burst out laughing.
	"Well, does it?"
	"Of course not.  The thought of me 'dating' is ludicrous.  I told
you, I'm in love with you.  In fact, I was in love with you before you were
in love with me."
	"How do you know that?"
	"I just do, okay?  So shut up and listen to me."
	"Okay, okay.  Don't raise your voice.  Calm down."
	"Sorry, Babe."  I hadn't realized I had shouted my last line, but I
knew I had when he said that.
	"No problem.  Go on.  I'm listening."
	"Yes, I want to be yours and only yours.  And, yes, I want you to
be mine and only mine.  But we've had fun together messing around with
other guys, and I want that to continue for a while, at least.  In my mind,
being married makes that impossible."
	"No, it doesn't."
	"It does to me, Kevin.  Period."
	"Okay."
	"And it wouldn't hurt my feelings if you dated a girl now and
then."
	"I don't want to."
	"Don't predict what you might want to do in the future, Babe.
Remember what I said about your happiness and my happiness.  I noticed you
didn't say what I said back then.  And that's okay.  I respect that."
	"You think you love me more than I love you?"
	"Goddamn it, Kevin.  Why do you have to be so fucking analytical
all the time?  Huh?"  "Matt, I've made you mad, and I'm so sorry.  That's
the last thing I wanted to do."  He hung his head low and started crying.
It made me feel like shit that he was crying, but he *had* made me angry.
I started the car and got back onto the Interstate.  I wanted to cry, too,
but I knew he'd think that meant I was saying yes to his proposal, and I
wasn't ready to do that because I knew he wasn't really ready to make it.

	After what happened at the rest stop, the rest of the drive home
seemed interminable.  Kevin stopped crying in just a few minutes, but I
knew he was awfully depressed.  He didn't say anything for the longest
time, and I was afraid to talk for fear I would burst into tears.
	We finally pulled into our driveway and parked the car.  We quickly
got our stuff out of the trunk and took it up to our rooms.  I unpacked and
sorted my dirty clothes, and I assumed Kevin did the same thing.  In a few
minutes, there was a knock at my door.  I said "come in," and Kevin pushed
the door open.
	"Can we talk, please," he said.  He had the most pathetic
little-boy look on his face.  I knew he was hurting badly.
	"Of course, Baby," I said.  I went to him to hug him, and he melted
into tears in my arms.
	"I feel so bad, Matt.  Why do I always have to act like such a
fucking fool?"
	"You're not a fool, Kevin.  You're the man I love with every ounce
of my being.  Sit down."  We both sat on the edge of the bed, and I put my
arms around him.
	"I thought about what you said all the rest of the way home, and
you're right.  We are way too young to enter into a permanent commitment.
I should have talked to you about the possibility before just blurting out
a proposal like that.  That was an unfair thing to do to you.  I just
wasn't thinking."
	"Well, I thought a lot on the way home, too, Babe, and I want to
apologize for the way I reacted.  Instead of being overwhelmed with
happiness and flattered beyond belief that you would want me in that way, I
reacted out of fear."
	"Are you afraid of me?  I would never hurt you."
	I fully expected him to say something like that.  For all his
intelligence, Kevin was about the least intuitive person I had ever known.
	"Of course I'm not afraid of you.  Besides, I could easily whip
your sorry ass."
	That made him chuckle because he and I both knew how wrong that
statement was.
	"What were you afraid of, then," he asked.
	"Of myself, I guess.  Of the seriousness of that moment.  Of the
consequences of saying 'yes.'  Do you understand?"
	"I think so."  A dark cloud came over his eyes just then, and he
started crying all over again.
	"What is it, Babe?"
	"It's just...it's that..."  He was really struggling.
	"It's what," I asked, as gently as I knew how.
	He took a deep breath and got himself under control.  "It's that I
felt all the same fears as the words were leaving my mouth.  And that made
me feel bad."
	"You precious, precious boy."
	"Can I withdraw the proposal?"
	"Yes.  I accept the withdrawal.  Let's forget any of this ever
happened, okay, Babe?"
	"Okay, Matt.  Do you forgive me?"
	"For what?  For loving me so much you wanted us to make a permanent
commitment?  For wanting me to be yours forever?"
	"When you say it like that, I guess there isn't anything to forgive
me for."
	"Exactly.  Now get undressed, and let's fuck our brains out."


	That trip to the beach was truly a watershed for us.  After that,
Kevin was much more attentive to me than he had been.  I was more attentive
to him, too, but there were aspects of our lives that were completely
separate.  Graduation was one of them.  June 3rd rolled around before we
knew it, and it was time for Kevin's graduation.  It was outside on a
Sunday afternoon, and they did it up big.  All the faculty members wore
their academic robes, and the kids were in caps and gowns, as usual.  Kevin
got several awards, and he was called up on stage because he was one of two
who had gotten accepted to Harvard.  They did the same thing for a bunch of
colleges that they apparently considered important.
	Near the end of the ceremony, Kevin and Frank were called up on
stage.  Kevin was the fourth generation of his family to have graduated
from that high school, and Frank was the third.  They made a very big deal
out of that, and Frank even got a "Golden Diploma" for it.  Frank later
said he thought they did it to get some money out of him, and he did, in
fact, donate $25,000.00 to their building fund.  Later, he gave them a
whole lot more money, and they named the building Smythe Hall in his honor.
I found that out by reading Kevin's alumni mail a year or so later, but I
doubt that he ever knew it.  It wasn't the kind of thing he cared about.
	My graduation was two days later, and I, too, got the "come up on
the stage 'cause you got accepted at Harvard" thing.  I was first
generation Newton, though, so Denis and I didn't get to go up together.
That was fine with me.  Hell, I was first year Newton, and I got to go up
more than once.  I thought that was way cool.
	Frank and Denis made a lot over our graduations.  Not only that,
but Kevin's nineteenth birthday was May 25th.  Both of us were older than
our classmates by almost a whole year, and that had been a conscious
decision on the part of our moms when we started school.  It had never
bothered either one of us, and we got to drive and do other stuff a year
before everyone else.  It was cool.
	Since our trip to the beach and the awful way it ended, Kevin and I
had grown closer, if that were possible.  Our sex life was wonderful, we
got along great, and we had fun doing the simplest of things, like setting
the table.
	We got in touch with Harvard about postponing our admission that
fall.  They weren't keen on promising us a place in two years, but we
decided the life experience we'd gain in the meantime would be worth it.
	We also spent a lot of time planning some things we wanted to do.
We bought a Ford Explorer that could hold our stuff, including two
collapsible bicycles, and would have room for us to sleep in if we needed
to.  We made financial arrangements, got a subscription to AOL so we could
have readily-accessible e-mail accounts, and otherwise took care of
everything we could in order to be ready to head out.  We knew we'd be back
to visit Frank and Denis, but the next year--possibly two years--was going
to be ours to enjoy on our own.
	That's how my first year with Kevin ended.  On July 5th, Frank and
Denis were up early to see us off.  They waved us good-bye as we drove off
looking for life.

++++++++++++++++++++++

	Thank you for sticking with me this long.  I realize I've written
the equivalent of a novel, and the story of Kevin and Matt is far from
over.  I need to take a break from those guys for a while, but I'll return
to them soon.

	Several readers have written to me to ask about the "trick" of
having an orgasm without ejaculating.  It's not a trick.  It's a real
phenomenon any guy can learn.  I did it by accident for the first time when
I was fifteen.  It scared me to death, and I was sure I had some serious
medical problem.  It felt so damn good, though, that I kept trying to do it
again and again.  As a result, I basically taught myself how to control my
ejaculations.  A few years later, I came across a book called _The
Multi-Orgasmic Man_, by Mantak Chia and Douglas Abrams Arava
(HarperSanFrancisco, 1996).  Here are the first two sentences from the
Introduction to that book: "Over three thousand years ago, the Chinese
recognized that men can achieve multiple orgasms by delaying and even
withholding ejaculation.  This is possible because orgasm and ejaculation
are two distinct physical processes, though they have long been equated in
the West."  It is much easier to accomplish during masturbation than during
sex with a partner because the individual has less control over what
happens with a partner, but it is definitely possible to learn to control
ejaculations under any circumstances.  Just ask Kevin Smythe.  Brew Maxwell