Date: Sun, 8 Aug 2004 08:42:43 -0700 (PDT)
From: ds elliot <dselliot28@yahoo.com>
Subject: "New Kid in Town"  (Gay Male - High School)

New Kid in Town

by ds elliot


This is the story of two male high school students who find each other.

There may be explicit sex scenes depicted in this story. If you don't
wish to read stories about gay relationships or gay sex, if you aren't
old enough to read such stories, or if accessing and/or reading such
stories is illegal in your area... please navigate to another site and
stop reading this story now.

The author retains all rights to this story. You may not publish this
story in any form on any site or link this story to any other site.
Copyright 2004.

As always, I sincerely appreciate hearing from those reading my work.
Please share your comments, suggestions, and constructive criticism with
me at: dselliot28@yahoo.com



And now to this story...



I'm Paul Hawthorne III. That's right... Paul Hawthorne the third. That
name and a token will get you on the bus. Aside from that, it doesn't
mean too much. I guess it was easier to pick a name everyone already
knew... easier than thinking up something original anyway. Oh well,
what's in a name? I'd be the same guy no matter what name I had, and just
being my father's only son would still have made me the perpetual new kid
in town. This is the twelfth time I've held that title in the the 17
years of my life. We move around a lot. Why do we move so much? It's my
father's jobs pure and simple. Until five years ago he was in the
military. He was attached to the diplomatic wing of the government. As a
result his job required that he be stationed in several different
locations around the world. He met and married my mother while stationed
in Australia. She left him a few years later after moving from Germany to
France. I don't really know why she left, but I think it had a lot to do
with always being in a strange place where the customs and language
wasn't familiar. I say that only because there were a few times when I
considered running away for those very reasons. Suffice it to say that
mom left, and dad raised me... well, he actually had less to do with
raising me than did a string of housekeepers/nannies and personal
assistants assigned to him as a result of his rank.

I don't know exactly what my dad did in the military. He could never talk
much about his job. As a young child I fantasized about spying and other
similar 'James Bond' like adventures. As it turns out that wasn't too far
from reality. He was in the business of information gathering -- another
term for spying on both friendly and unfriendly governments. Sadly though
his position lacked the most exciting parts of my fantasies -- the bad
guys lurking around every corner, the cool cars that transformed
themselves into weapons, and the scantily clad babes attempting to seduce
my father while plying him with martinis... shaken not stirred (at the
time I didn't know what the hell that was, but it sure sounded cool). So
we moved around a lot. I've lived in Australia twice. We were in New
Zealand for a short time. We lived in Germany three different times and
France for a year. We also moved to England for a time. There was a two
year stint in Japan. Oh, and we also lived in Washington, DC.

As a kid moving to all of these different places wasn't so difficult. I
suppose I thought all families did this. I didn't really have any other
view of life in those early years. It also seemed that as a kid I was
able to adapt better than adults, especially with the different
languages. We didn't live any one place long enough for me to become
completely fluent in their native tongue, but I quickly and easily
learned enough to survive. I can't say that I hated all the moving and
traveling we did when I was young. My dad always treated each move like
it was some great adventure we were undertaking. His excitement caused me
to be equally as excited if not even more excited and anxious for the
pending move. Later on I learned that my dad's excitement was simply a
ploy to get me excited so I wouldn't try to fight or resist the move. We
never seemed to live any place long enough to form deep attachments to
people or places. I eventually had friends in each country, but none were
ever best friends/soul mates like so many kids seem to find in their
early years. At the time I didn't realize those relationships existed so
didn't feel bad about not having one. Dad's personal assistants always
moved with us so it wasn't like I didn't know someone in the new country.
During those years while dad was in the military, we often lived in the
embassy compound or very close to it. There were usually other kids there
or close by, but often it seemed those kids were either older or younger.
We knew each other, but never became really close. I was probably closer
to dad's personal assistants than anyone else. I remember viewing them as
playmates when I was small. Their job seemed to be to occupy and
entertain me so dad could work. The many housekeepers were an extension
of that as well. They fed me, cleaned me, and entertained me. In most of
the foreign countries where a language barrier existed, the housekeeper
was also my primary instructor as I learned the basics of the new
language.

When dad retired from the military, he took a position with the company
who manufactured much of the sophisticated electronic equipment he used.
His new job in the civilian world didn't lessen the travel. The first
tour was a three year stay in Germany selling some of the company's
products to our allies. For nearly the last two years we lived in
Washington, DC where dad sold the company's products to our own military
and other groups interested in gathering information. And just last week
we moved to his suburb of Los Angeles. Dad had a new position within the
company. He was now a Vice President of the spy business division. This
would be his home base. He would still travel, but usually never longer
than two weeks at a time. As we packed up our personal items for the
move, it occurred to me that this would be the last time I'd have to do
this. I started my senior year of high school just three weeks before.
The move didn't bother me all that much. I hated Washington the most of
any place we'd ever lived. I'd never been to the west coast, but I was
looking forward to sun and surf. The rest was just a routine change that
had been happening for years. I'd go to school. I'd do my own thing. I'd
graduate and go to college. I really was looking forward to college...
four years in the same place.

We landed in Los Angeles early on Thursday. Most arrangements had already
been made for us. We had a house on the beach -- my one request when I'd
learned of this move four weeks earlier. When we got to the house it was
furnished -- nothing unusual about that from my past experiences. Dad's
assistant had all of the necessary forms for him to complete and sign so
I could register for school on Friday. His assistant took me to the
school where all of the paperwork was processed. Before I left the
school, I had a class schedule and would start bright and early Monday
morning. The rest of Friday and that weekend was spent getting all
settled in to this new house and exploring the area.

Dad took me to the local mall on Saturday. He usually only wanted to do
this when he was feeling guilty for yet another move. I'd learned long
ago to relish these trips because there seemed to be no end to what he'd
spend to assuage his guilt. By the time we left I had a closet full of
new clothes as well as some other items I just had to have.

Dressed in my new California clothes, I headed to school Monday morning.
Each student was assigned a homeroom where the school day began. I found
mine. After giving some paperwork to the teacher I was told to take the
open desk in the back of the room. Once seated the guy next to me said
'Hey...' and then introduced himself (Bobby Winton) and asked my name. At
first I thought he hadn't gotten the memo about not talking to the new
guy in class. This had never happened before. It usually took at least
three days or more before someone would be brave enough to talk to a new
kid in school. It was nice really. We spent the next 30 minutes talking
about me, the school, him, and my class schedule. As it turned out we had
two classes together -- first period English and fifth period Civics. In
addition we also shared the same lunch period. We walked to our shared
class together as we continued to talk. Bobby seemed to know everyone
along the way to class. He was constantly interrupting our conversation
to say 'Hi' or chat briefly with another student. As we walked in the
classroom just prior to the bell, I handed the teacher the required
paperwork and followed Bobby to a seat next to his. Once the class was
settled, the teacher asked Bobby to introduce his new friend (me). Bobby
stood... he told the class my name, where I was born, some of the cities
I'd lived in over the years, where I transferred from, and 'for all the
ladies' that I was single and anxious to meet a nice California girl.
That brought a round of laughter and some snide comments from others in
the classroom. The instructor asked Bobby to help me get up to date with
the class since I'd arrived two weeks after the start of the school year.
Bobby agreed to be of any help he could. I was surprised on two counts.
First... I didn't realize I'd told Bobby so much in the relatively short
time we'd talked -- and even more amazed that he was actually listening
to me. Second... I was shocked that he'd actually agreed to help me get
caught up with the class. I'd changed schools more than once during the
course of a school year. No one ever offered to help the new guy get
caught up. My past experience had been that the teacher would assign some
unattractive girl who had nothing better to do with her Friday nights but
study to help out the new guy.

As we left first period, Bobby told me he'd see me at lunch. During third
period I was ready for lunch. I was hoping to see Bobby, but more than
that I was just plain hungry. When the bell rang signaling the end of the
period, I spent a few additional minutes after class with the teacher
before heading out the door. I was pleasantly surprised to see Bobby
waiting for me outside the door. We walked to the cafeteria together
comparing notes about classes and teachers. After we got food we joined a
table with some of Bobby's friends. He introduced me to the group with
sincere enthusiasm -- giving brief details on my travels. During lunch I
learned more about Bobby. Bobby was on the football team -- the star
receiver no less. He seemed to be very popular with all the beautiful
people at the school. He was definitely part of the 'in' clique --
probably a leader of the group. I'd never been part of that group -- or
any group really. I'd never really been any place long enough to
establish myself with one of the groups. I was a loner. I didn't have a
bad personality. I wasn't anti social or lacking is social graces. I was
a very long way from stupid, but not in the nerd category. My loner
status was more one of convenience and circumstance. This was a great new
experience for me, and I was enjoying it to the fullest.

Civics was the next to last period of the day. I already knew I'd like
the class because Bobby was in it with me. As I was on my way to the
class, Bobby came up behind me and put his arm around my shoulder as we
walked the rest of the way to class. As I gave the teacher my paperwork,
Bobby told the teacher he'd make sure I was up to date with the class.
Once again we sat next to each other during class. As class was ending,
Bobby told me I should come by the field to watch the football team
practice. I told him I couldn't today, but I'd do that tomorrow.

I walked home after school feeling on top of the world. All that evening
I could think of nothing but Bobby. He was my first friend in
California... my first real friend ever. All of a sudden I missed having
close friends all those years. It didn't make me sad at all. I guess I
just learned what could have been. All evening I day dreamed about Bobby.
He was an amazing guy. He was my size, but probably a better body. I mean
I didn't think I had anything to be ashamed of as far as my body went. I
wasn't buff like a weight lifter or anything, but I was in great shape. I
played tennis and swam along with several years of martial arts training
and more than a couple years spent learning how to box. My dad was big on
self defense and always enrolled me in those types of classes from about
the time I could stand on my own. I'd also done some weight lifting while
in DC since that was a main passion of my dad's assistant there. We
regularly went to his gym to work out. I didn't get really ripped, but I
gained strength and tone from those workouts. I actually enjoyed those
workouts. I found I could think/day dream while going through the
mindless workout routines -- like accomplishing two different things at
one time. Anyway... the whole point of all of this was Bobby! I'd already
had a picture in my mind of what his body would look like... great pecs,
flat stomach, washboard abs, well muscles shoulders and arms, strong
legs... and a great tan. His hair was a rich dark chocolate brown -- worn
on the short side with no particular style to it. He naturally had dark
rather heavy eyebrows over the biggest brown eyes I'd ever seen. His face
just fit his personality... warm, friendly, open. His smile showed off a
perfect set of sparkling white teeth. His lips were a darker pink... full
and soft (I imagined). He had great taste in clothes. What he wore
brought out the best aspects of his body -- especially those jeans which
really showed off that great ass and suggested plenty on the front side
too.

I had never gushed over a guy before... not like this anyway. Sure, I
looked plenty, but no one ever compared to Bobby. This guy had it all...
great body, fantastic personality, brains, charm. If you're asking
yourself if this Paul kid is gay... well, duh. I picked up on this aspect
of my life several years prior. What I learned from living in various
countries was that it was fine to be gay as long as no one ever knew.
Some things are just better kept to one's self. No one ever asked if I
was gay. No guys ever made a play for me or even hinted about any kind of
sexual interest. I suppose if someone had that wasn't gross or too
disgusting I'm sure I'd have tried sex by now, but that just hadn't
happened. I wasn't in too much of a hurry to have sex -- well I wasn't
before Bobby at least. I had two hands to take care of business -- though
using the left hand was a bit like sex with a really spastic guy (my
imagination again). Sitting in my room thinking about Bobby seemed to be
waking up this whole other side of my being. Listen... I've had an active
imagination all my life. It comes from years of being basically alone and
inventing games and stories and fantasies of one sort or another -- and
when I was much smaller, getting an adult to play along with my imagined
scenario. This was completely different.

Dad and I had a good but boring dinner together at home. Mrs. Miller was
our new housekeeper. She'd be taking care of the household chores
including all the grocery shopping and cooking Monday through Friday.
We'd be on our own for the weekends. It was nice to have dinner prepared
and ready in the evenings. I wasn't at all concerned about the weekends.
One of the many things I learned was how to cook some great meals from
many different cultures. I wouldn't say that I was skilled in the
kitchen, but I knew enough so I wouldn't starve in any country.

Tuesday and Wednesday were just as good as Monday had been. Bobby was
great! It felt like we'd been friends forever. That Tuesday I stopped by
to watch football practice. It wasn't very exciting to watch, but I could
have watched Bobby for days. As practice was winding down Bobby told me
to follow the team to the locker room. I did as he instructed. He pulled
me inside with the team. I never felt comfortable in locker rooms. It was
like putting a kid alone in a candy store. I always felt impending
disaster was just around the corner for some reason. Being there talking
with Bobby while the team stripped down to shower and change was
distracting at best. On the positive side of things I did have several
weeks worth of masturbation material as I secretly scanned the many naked
bodies of teenage football players. Bobby's ass was so much better
without clothes. I wanted to sit on my hands so I wouldn't just reach out
to hold those two flawless globes in my hands. The front side didn't
disappoint either... a nice dick, great balls, not too much hair, a
treasure trail that begged the looker to follow the path from navel to
dick. I'm sure I was licking my lips like a starving man at the sight of
food. If I did, Bobby didn't say anything. As we left toward the parking
lot, Bobby asked which car was mine. I told him I didn't have one yet so
he offered a ride home. He came inside when we got there. I introduced
him to my dad and showed Bobby my room. He seemed really impressed. It
was a great room -- not so much for what was in it but for the view from
the solid glass wall that looked over the beach and ocean only a short
ways away.

Wednesday after practice Bobby joined us for dinner and spent the next
couple of hours alone with me in my room as we made sure I was up to date
with each of the classes we shared. It probably would have only taken 30
minutes to accomplish this task especially since I already knew I was at
least with the class if not beyond where they were. The rest of the time
was spent checking out my things... the computer, the stereo and CD
collection, the XBOX and games, and then a quick walk out of my room to
the deck then down the stairs to the backyard and then to the beach. I'd
had people in my room before, but never anyone of Bobby's caliber. I've
never been more excited. If I hadn't been wearing a loose fitting shirt
over my jeans, I know that excitement would have been obvious.

Bobby and I were assigned to be partners for our Civics class project.
The project was due four weeks from the date of assignment. I wasn't at
all worried. I could do the project without Bobby's help, but the chance
to work alone with Bobby was really exciting to me. I was hoping we could
spend at least several hours each week 'working' on this class project.
Bobby encouraged me to come to the Friday evening football game. Wild
horses and mad bombers couldn't have kept me away. I had a seat at the 45
yard line just above the team benches. Bobby greeted me when the team
came onto the field before the game started.

The game was an easy win for our team. Bobby played well -- making two
touch downs and catching several passes as our team advanced toward the
goal. I've never yelled more or for that matter taken more interest in
any sporting event in my life. I watched sports, but just couldn't get
that excited one way or another. This time with Bobby playing I was an
instant fan -- as loud and passionate about this game as anyone anywhere.
As requested, I followed the team to the locker room at the end of the
game. The level of excitement even after an easy win was a joy to behold.
There was plenty of back slapping and grab ass going on in all parts of
the room. I talked with Bobby as he stripped down for his shower. When
naked he grabbed a towel then draped his arm over my shoulders telling me
he was glad I came to the game. Watching his perfect ass move as he
walked toward the showers had me nearly hypnotized. I felt like I could
look at nothing else. I remember thinking that I hoped I wasn't drooling.
While Bobby showered I packed his football uniform and gear into his
sports bag. As I picked up his jock I had a strong desire to bring it to
my face just to get a sample of Bobby's concentrated scent, but I didn't.
I also thought about stuffing it in my pocket to enjoy later, but I
didn't do that either. By the time I had all of Bobby's things packed up,
he was standing next to me dripping all over the place. He continued to
dry off and dress as we talked about the game and some parties he wanted
me to attend with him.

We stopped by two parties after the game. Both were pretty lame. We had a
beer at each place while we talked with some of the people there. I met
more new people and recognized several from school too. It was after
midnight when we headed home. Bobby looked tired. He'd played hard so had
a right to be tired. He dropped me at my house then drove himself home.
He called Saturday morning and came by shortly after the call. His
parents insisted on knowing his friends so he wanted me to come for lunch
with the family. He apologized several times for asking me to do this,
but I was happy to go. I wanted to know all there was to know about
Bobby, and I saw this as a perfect chance to learn more.

His parents were nice people... polite and sincere. His father was a
minister at a local church. His mother worked as a nurse. He had one
older sister who was attending a local college and four younger brothers.
It was a houseful to say the least. It wasn't noisy or anything, but
there was always activity happening all around us. Lunch consisted of
sandwiches and a salad with fresh fruit and glasses of milk. His parents
grilled me about where I'd lived, what my parents did, how I liked
school, what my grades were like, my hobbies and outside activities, and
more. I'd never been through anything like this before. I didn't mind all
of the questions, but I remember thinking it somehow strange and quaint
all at the same time. Mark, the youngest at about 5, told me during lunch
that he really liked my bright green eyes. He looked the most like Bobby
so I guessed that's what Bobby must have looked like at that age. After
lunch Bobby told me that his parents really seemed to like me. That made
me feel good for some reason -- proud that I'd passed their test I guess.
I could see why Bobby liked my house. He shared a room with one of his
brothers so always seemed to have no privacy at all. His family alone
packed the house, but during the time I was there a constant stream of
his sibling's friends seemed to populate the place making it a bit louder
and much more crowded. Having never lived with so many people in one
house, it didn't seem like so much a home as it did a meeting place.

When Bobby brought me back to my house, there was a new sporty car in the
driveway. I figured someone was visiting my dad so didn't think much of
it. Bobby came in with me cause we were gonna chill in my room. My dad
called me when he heard the door open. He was in the den on the first
floor with a huge mound of paperwork in front of him. As I walked in he
tossed keys to me. It seems that the sporty new car in the driveway was
mine. He must have been feeling guiltier than I first thought. Bobby and
I ran out of the house to check out the car. It was cooler than cool.
This was my Mercedes! I couldn't believe it. I'd never asked for a car...
hell, I'd never really needed one. I got my license while living in DC. I
drove my dad's car there, but driving in DC was a bitch. The traffic was
always bad. We lived right in town -- only about six blocks from my
school so there wasn't really a need for a car. This area was so
different. It seemed all the kids at school had cars. Most of those cars
were decent too... no beaters or junkers sitting in that parking lot. The
car was a glossy black with a light gray leather interior. It was a hard
top convertible. The first thing we did was start the car and lower the
top. I took Bobby on a ride through town. I really didn't know where I
was going since I wasn't that familiar with the roads. Bobby gave
constant instructions from the passenger seat... 'turn here' 'turn left
at the next light' 'go down this street' and so on. After a few miles I
pulled into a parking lot and told Bobby to trade places with me so he
could drive. He was out of the car in a flash. Before he got into the
driver's seat he hugged me tight and tried to lift me in the air. He
managed to get me up on my tip toes, but the only think I could think
about was the fact that our dicks were touching. I couldn't feel his, but
my imagination certainly could. I was glad to be sitting once again. It
helped to hide my erection and the awkward position my dick was in seemed
to pinch off the blood flow which helped to get it back down to the
default position.

We cruised all over town. Bobby made sure to drive by his friend's homes
so as many people as possible got to see my new wheels. I'm amazed that
Bobby's smile didn't blind oncoming drivers. After a couple of hours we
found ourselves back in my driveway. Bobby was late getting home so he
made a quick call to let his parents know where he was and what he was
doing. He then headed home.

I spent Sunday at home doing school work mostly. Dad and I talked over
dinner. He told me he'd be leaving Tuesday evening for two weeks. He had
some meetings in Chicago, meetings in New York, and still more meetings
in DC. I thought that might be a large part of the reason I got the car.
Up to that point I'd walked to school. The car gave me more freedom and
made him feel better about leaving me at home alone. I'd have been fine
without the car. I had his if I needed it, but I guess this made him feel
better about leaving so soon. I wasn't complaining -- I had a new car!
Bobby called Sunday evening. During our phone conversation I mentioned
that my dad would be our of town for two weeks starting Tuesday evening.
Bobby asked if I wouldn't be lonely in the house with no one else there.
I explained that I was used to it already. The longer we talked, Bobby
told me he wouldn't mind having a place to himself for a few weeks -- no
brothers and sisters bothering him... no parents nagging him... just
privacy and peace and quiet. Half jokingly I told him he could stay here
with me if he wanted. His only response was that he'd like that but his
parents wouldn't agree during the school week. I told him he could come
for the weekend, not thinking that he really would.

On Monday in homeroom Bobby told me that he asked his parents if he could
spend the weekend since my dad was going to be out of town and I'd be all
alone in a strange city. I hadn't thought of it like that, but ok...
whatever got Bobby to spend the night. Bobby told me that his parents
would want to talk to my dad to be sure it was fine with him. I already
knew my dad was impossible to reach via phone so I told him I'd have my
dad call his dad tonight. That evening dad didn't get home until after
7:00. I explained the situation -- that I'd asked Bobby to spend the
weekend while he was away. Dad didn't have a problem with that at all --
didn't even question it. I asked him to call the Winton's to tell them it
was fine with him. Before he sat down to dinner he placed the call. The
two of them talked on the phone for a much longer time than I thought
necessary. I didn't hear the conversation, but... well, how long does it
take to say 'Bobby can stay here over the weekend'? Obviously it seemed
to take over 30 minutes.

While we ate I asked if Bobby's dad had agreed. My dad said he wasn't
sure if he'd get to stay or not. It seemed that Mr. Winton planned to
talk more to Bobby before he gave his permission. Suddenly it all seemed
far too complicated. All I really wanted was for Bobby to spend the
weekend. This seemed to be turning into some major negotiation. By the
time I was finished eating I'd decided Bobby's parents wouldn't allow him
to stay. It wasn't a big deal really. I wanted it, but it wasn't
critical. After 10:00 that night Bobby called me. He was upset because
his parents were being 'dicks' about him spending the weekend. They
wanted to place conditions on his stay. As we talked the conditions
turned out to be only one condition. His father insisted that he still
get up Sunday morning to attend the regular church service with the rest
of the family. I personally didn't see the big deal so I asked why that
was a problem. Bobby's logic was that he should get to decide what he did
with the weekend since he was nearly 18. To him it was no different than
some youth camps he'd attended where church services on Sunday weren't
part of the program. I could see both sides of this argument. I told
Bobby I'd go to church with him if that would help. For some reason it
seemed to do the trick. His attitude improved almost immediately when I
told him. I'd been in churches before... lots of them... some of the
biggest cathedrals in the world. I'd even attended a couple of services
in the past. Church was just another experience -- one I didn't really
understand, but not one I was adamantly against. I could do this, and
with any luck at all sleep through most of it.

The week seemed to drag on. On Thursday I learned that Bobby couldn't
bring his car for the weekend. That wasn't really a problem. I drove to
his house to pick him up for school on Friday morning. He had a bag
packed with clothes and things for the weekend. The football game tonight
was an away game so the team had to be back at school and on the bus at
5:00 to get to the school. After school Bobby and I headed to a local
restaurant for something to eat. Neither of us was starving at that
point, but we both knew he'd be hungry if he didn't eat now. Funny how
guys can eat even when they aren't very hungry. We ordered a slew of food
and ate it all. I was stuffed as we drove back to school so he could
board the bus. I wouldn't leave for another hour to get to the game so I
went home to drop off Bobby's bag. I put it in my room figuring I'd show
him to the guest room when we got back after the game.

This game was a hard fought and difficult battle. Bobby took more than a
few hard hits during the game. He was limping as he walked to the bus
after the game. Our team eventually won by one point. The team looked
exhausted as they climbed into the bus. I was surprised they didn't
shower and change before boarding the bus, but didn't say anything. I,
along with nearly everyone else from our school, followed the bus back to
our school. When Bobby got off the bus I saw that he looked even more
beat up than I thought. He'd taken off his shoulder pads and cleats and
was just wearing a t-shirt, socks, and the football pants when he came
towards me. I put his sports bag in the car as he climbed into the
passenger seat. Back at home he showered in my bathroom while I made him
something to eat. It was a simple meal... roast beef that I reheated in
the oven, vegetables, a tossed salad, and a chocolate cake Mrs. Miller
made. He came down in just a pair of boxers. He asked if it was ok to do
that. I told him it was fine. It was something he always wanted to do,
but couldn't at home. We ate and talked about the game. We had a hot tub
on the patio and told Bobby he should soak his sore muscles before bed.
He agreed it sounded good. I went to my room to strip down to my boxers.
If that's what Bobby was wearing, I didn't want to be over dressed. With
towels in hand we walked to the tub. I took off the cover and started the
jets. Bobby stripped off his boxers before climbing into the water. I
think my mouth must have fallen open at the sight, but I followed suit.
After a short time soaking, I went to the fridge to get us each a beer. I
made sure my dad bought plenty before he left town. I wasn't the town
drunk by any means. I'd grown up drinking beer and wine. Often times
something with alcohol was safer than drinking the water. I knew enough
not to get drunk. I wouldn't let Bobby get drunk either. The beer would
relax us both... and so it did.

By the time we finished the first beer we were giggling like school girls
over the stupidest things, but it was damn fun! I've never been more
relaxed or more comfortable with anyone. We had an outdoor shower so we
both rinsed the chlorine from our bodies before drying to go back inside.
We each grabbed another beer and headed to my room. We sat out on the
deck wrapped in our towels just talking and laughing until the beer was
gone. Bobby looked done for the night. I told him about the guest room
across the hall, but he said my bed (a king size style) was plenty big
enough for two and asked which side I liked. It didn't matter to me so he
climbed in completely naked. My heart was pounding as I took off my towel
to get into bed. Once Bobby's head hit the pillow, he was out. I,
however, was not. My active imagination was racing -- conjuring up all
sorts of interesting situations. I watched him sleep for a while before
dozing off myself. We didn't wake up in a tangled mess. Bobby was laying
pretty much the way he started out, and so was I. I should have closed
the drapes over the wall of windows since the sun was Pouring in now. I
wanted to let Bobby sleep as long as he needed. I got up to draw the
drapes with my little buddy pointing towards the ceiling as I walked
across the room. Once the drapes were closed I walked toward the bathroom
for that first piss of the day. When I came out, Bobby was awake and
propped up by the pillows. I wasn't really looking in his direction as I
exited the bathroom so was a little surprised when I got back to the bed
to find him smiling at me. I was instantly self conscious since I was
completely naked. He said,

"I've never seen a dick that wasn't circumcised. Shit, you can't even
see the head of your dick."

"Sorry. I should have put some clothes on." I stated as my face turned
the deepest shade of red.

"It's no big deal. I was gonna say something last night about it. You're
probably the only guy in school who's natural. It just looks different.
When it's hard it looks just the same as every other one... umm... not
that I've ever seen another one hard... well, other than mine I mean."

"Shit! Were you already awake when I got up to close the drapes?"

"Yeah. I was trying to be quiet so you could sleep."

"Damn... that's a little embarrassing. I don't think anyone has ever
seen mine in that state. I don't usually walk around naked with a hard
on... well, at least not with someone else in the room. I'm sorry."

"Nothing to be sorry about. Guys get hard. As Martha would say, 'It's a
good thing!'"

We both were laughing at that comment. The laughter reminded Bobby that
he had yet to pee so he threw back the covers to go to the bathroom. His
dick wasn't hard... not all the way hard anyway. It looked like it would
be about the same size as mine when hard so at least I didn't feel
inadequate in that area. When Bobby finished we both donned shorts and
headed to the kitchen. We made breakfast together as we both made more
than our share of dumb jokes. After eating we walked the beach and
eventually ended up soaked from pushing and pulling each other into the
surf then trying our best to knock each other down into the rather cold
water. Eventually, once we were both wet, we started our own little game
of tag. It consisted of a lot of grab ass and forceful tags that knocked
the other into the water, but it was fun. Back at the house we rinsed off
outside then dried ourselves with towels I found in an outside cabinet.

We talked about what to do Saturday evening. Finally we decided that
Bobby would call a bunch of his friends and all meet up for pizza at a
restaurant near the mall then maybe head there to take in a movie.
Whatever he wanted to do was fine with me. He placed about a dozen calls.
When he finished he said that he had at least twenty people meeting at
the restaurant. Some of the guys were bringing dates. I asked Bobby if he
wanted to invite a date. I told him we could take my dad's car so we
could all ride together, but he declined the offer. We talked about
dating a little. Bobby asked some personal questions. I was honest,
despite wanting to seem cool and knowledgeable on the subject of dating
and sex. I think Bobby was honest too. He'd dated the same girl nearly
all of last year and over most of the summer. They broke up because he
decided she wasn't ever going to be part of his future. Bobby thought
they stayed together because it was just easier than finding someone
else. He wasn't a virgin like me, but he'd only had sex with this one
girl. He confided that most of the time the sex wasn't all that good
because she was usually drunk when they did it. When they broke up, Bobby
decided that he wanted to stay single during his senior year so he could
play the field and not have any pressures or demands placed on him by a
girlfriend. Having never really had a girl friend (or in my case a
boyfriend) I really didn't know what he was talking about, but tried to
sound like I did and sympathized with his plight.

Dinner turned out to be a lot of fun... 22 rather vocal and easily
excited teenagers always makes for fun. The movie sucked, but on the
bright side I got to sit next to Bobby for nearly two hours with our bare
knees and arms touching the whole time. That was fantastic! Back at home
we each had a beer as we talked about the evening. Bobby decided he
wanted to shower before bed. He suggested that I needed one too as he
laughed at his own joke. We took another beer each as we headed up to my
room. We stripped off as we continued to talk. Bobby insisted that I
shower first while he brushed his teeth. I started the shower than stood
over the toilet to piss. Bobby watched as I did. It was a little weird,
but I had to pee badly enough that it didn't interrupt the process. As I
dried after the shower, Bobby was grabbing at my dick as he talked about
foreskin and my 'ugly' dick. When he grabbed for it the first time, I
pulled away from his hand. I could have kicked myself for that. More than
anything I wanted him to touch me, but my damn natural reaction pulled my
dick out of his grasp... Shit! Shit! Shit! I brushed my teeth and headed
into the bedroom while Bobby showered. He walked out drying his hair. We
had to be at the church by 9:00 in the morning so I set the alarm while
Bobby climbed into bed. I turned off the light and got on my side. We
talked a little and as we did Bobby tweaked my tit. It surprised me in
many levels... mostly the level that excited me and caused my dick to
stir.

As I think about it now, I'm very confused about what happened next, but
at that moment it all seemed so clear. I raised up on my elbow and looked
at Bobby who had his eyes closed. He looked so peaceful and so inviting.
Something should have stopped my, but it didn't. I leaned in and kissed
him on the lips as my hand ran over his stomach and massaged his dick.
For one second, maybe less, I was in heaven. Reality brought me crashing
back to earth as Bobby shot out of the bed like a rocket being launched
yelling,

"What the fuck are you doing, man? Fuck! I ain't some fag! What the fuck
were you thinking? Fuck! Why the hell did you do that?"

"I... I ah... I... I don't know.." I mumbled completely shocked at his
reaction to my action.

Bobby continued to freak out on me while I stood on the opposite side of
the bed not able to meet his eyes. He wasn't calling me names or
anything, but he was obviously pissed. I walked from the room with my
head hanging -- ashamed, embarrassed, pissed at myself, and scared. I
didn't think Bobby would try to beat the shit out of me. If he wanted to
do that he already would have tried. All I could do was continue to tell
him I was so sorry as I left the room and closed the door behind me. I
slept in my dad's room that night... well, I stayed there at least. I
didn't sleep. I couldn't sleep. What I'd done kept playing over and over
in my mind. There was clearly no good that could possibly come from this.
What scared me to death was all of the bad that likely would.

When the alarm sounded I was still awake. I got up and put on some
clothes from my dad's closet. They didn't exactly fit, but they'd do. The
last thing I wanted was to be naked when Bobby got up. I was sitting in
the kitchen when he came downstairs. He didn't say anything. All I could
say was,

"I put out a choice of cereal for you. The milk is in the fridge. I'll
let you just help yourself while I brush me teeth and get some of my own
clothes."

With that said I left the room. Bobby was waiting when I got back
downstairs. Since he didn't say anything again, I said,

"Look, Bobby... I can only tell you how sorry I am about what I did last
night. I misunderstood. I'm sincerely sorry for what I did. I think it
would probably be best if I just dropped you off at the church. I don't
imagine you really want me around. I don't know what else to say..."

"Yeah..." was all he said as he stood up and walked out to the car.

I spent the rest of Sunday and all of Monday in my room in bed. I slept
some, but most of the time I just worried about the fallout. I felt
certain that Bobby had told his friends, and they had told their friends.
I just knew I'd been outed at school. Each time I thought about that I
was sick to my stomach. I'd never thrown up so many times as I did those
two days. It seemed certain that I wouldn't be part of the 'in' group at
school, but there was no point being in that group if Bobby wasn't there
with me. I'd have gone to hell and back for that guy. It didn't seem to
matter now. I'd screwed up the friendship. There is no way he would
forgive and forget. If he could do that he'd have called by now.

By Monday night I thought I'd found enough courage to drag my ass to
school to face the music. On the drive in Tuesday morning I wanted to go
anyplace but the school. I sucked it up and parked the car. Walking to
homeroom was the longest walk I'd ever made. I expected to be ambushed
along the way -- ridiculed, called names, embarrassed, you name it. None
of that happened. I took my seat next to Bobby. He was ice cold. I walked
to first period alone. The rest of the day was much the same. Everyone
was as friendly as they'd been last Friday -- everyone except Bobby. I
breathed a sigh of relief that he hadn't told anyone. I wanted to try to
talk to him, but was afraid doing so in any public place might cause a
scene. About the only private place was the bathroom, and I didn't think
it a good idea to approach him there. Finally on Friday in our shared
Civics class we were all sent to the library to do research for our
project. In the library I was finally able to talk to Bobby. I started
saying,

"Hey... thanks for not outing me to the school. I did a really stupid
thing, but you were decent enough to keep it between us. I really
appreciate that. You could have made the rest of this school year a
living hell for me."

"I didn't do it for you. I didn't want anyone to get the wrong idea
about me. How do you think it would look for the popular jock to be
friends with a fag?"

"Yeah... guess I should have worn a sign so you wouldn't have been
confused." I growled at him.

Finally looking up at me he said, "Look man... I'm not the fag here. How
the hell was I supposed to know you'd try that shit on me? I didn't do
anything to give you the idea that I was interested in guys. Why the fuck
did you do it in the first place? No wait... don't bother telling me. I
really don't want to talk about this shit. The whole fucking mess makes
me sick to my stomach. I feel like I'm gonna puke."

With that he got up and left the table. I sat there staring at the book
in front of me. I was embarrassed and hurt and pissed. I'd hoped he could
be civil towards me, but that seemed to be out of the question. I
completed the report for both of us. Two days prior to the due date I
handed him his copy of the work with a note telling him that I planned to
turn it in on the due date unless he objected. He didn't say anything so
I turned it in. As it happens we got an 'A' on the project -- no thanks
to Bobby.

The holidays came and after that classes changed in mid January. Bobby
and I had an American Government class together, but seating was assigned
by the teacher in alphabetical order so we weren't seated near each
other. It didn't matter because we hadn't spoken one word to each other
since that day in the library. Life went on. I gradually withdrew from
the group of Bobby's friends. I did go to all the football games, but I
didn't sit with the 'group'. I stayed to myself doing school work and
visiting a private gym my dad joined.

In late March I had been at the mall picking up some spring and summer
clothes when I decided to walk to a store a few blocks from the mall. On
the walk I was approaching the pizza place where Bobby, his friends, and
I had gone for dinner that fateful Saturday night so long ago. I was
thinking about the place as I got closer. I hadn't been there since. I
stayed away from all the places I thought Bobby might go. I didn't want
to risk a confrontation with him and thought it best to avoid all the
likely places where that might happen. As I got to the restaurant I
noticed a commotion in the back of the parking lot. I couldn't tell what
was going on because a group of high school kids had gathered blocking
easy view. I decided to head back there for some reason. Usually I would
have avoided anything to do with something like this. Whatever was
happening wasn't my business, but something drew me back. As I got within
hearing distance I could tell it was a fight -- or about to be a fight.
There was some yelling and name calling, but I didn't know what was going
on. I pushed my way through the gathered crowd to see four guys picking
on one guy. The letterman jackets of the four guys indicated a rival
school to mine. The guy they were picking on had a letterman's jacket
from my school. There had been some shoving and pushing, but no punches
thrown... everyone was still standing, and I didn't see blood. When I
looked to see who the guy from my school was, I was amazed to see it was
Bobby. He was in a defensive position looking to be attacked by at least
one of the four guys. The biggest guy was talking a ration of shit. I
stepped into the clearing to talk with Bobby. He had this grateful look
on his face -- like he was finally glad to see me. I asked if he needed
any help. He told me he just might. The big guy started talking shit to
me. I'd heard it all before so the words didn't hurt. He was just a big
guy with a big mouth that was rapidly getting him into trouble -- trouble
he'd soon regret. I encouraged him to stop being a pussy and take a
swing. My invitation worked. After he took his first swing that missed
and started to take another, I showed him what several years of boxing
experience can do. I got in three solid punches to his face before I
knocked him to the ground. As he was going down, one of the others lunged
at me. This time I got to use some of my martial arts experience to plant
a foot solidly in his stomach. He was doubled over and then down on one
knee. The other was close enough and as he swung at me I grabbed his arm
in mid air and punched as hard as I could at the shoulder joint. I heard
it dislocate. The fourth guy put up his hands indicating he didn't want
to play. The crowd parted as the police arrived. An aid car pulled in
right after. I gave my statement to the police first. Bobby gave his next
while the medics looked at my hand. I had skinned knuckles on my right
hand from punching the first guy in the face. The police then spoke with
the other four guys prior to putting three of them in hand cuffs and
taking them to the station while sending the fourth to the hospital to
have his shoulder looked after. I didn't say anything to Bobby once I
realized he was fine. I went back to my car and drove home.

I told my dad about the fight in the parking lot simply telling him that
one of the guys from my school was being picked on by four others. He
seemed glad that I'd finally used the skills I had gained, and happy I
wasn't hurt. I thought I should let him know just in case the police
called the house or he somehow heard about the incident.

The next morning -- a Saturday -- I was still in my room when I heard the
door bell. It hadn't been for me since Bobby stopped coming over so I
figured it was someone for dad and didn't bother or pay further
attention. I was surprised when someone rapped on the door jam to my
room. The door was partially open so if it had been dad, he'd just have
walked in. As I looked up I was shocked to see Bobby standing there. I
exclaimed...

"Bobby! What are you doing here?"

"I came to thank you for coming to my rescue yesterday. You saved me
from getting my ass kicked."

He was still standing at the door so I asked him to come in and sit down.
There were chairs in my room so it wasn't like he had to sit on the bed
or anything. I was in one chair so he took the other. I asked,

"Are you uncomfortable being in here? If you aren't, we could always go
out on the deck or go downstairs."

"No... this is fine. So where the hell did you learn to fight like that?
I couldn't believe it. You took on all three guys without batting an eye.
You weren't even scared or anything."

"I learned martial arts and boxing when I lived in various countries. It
was one of the few things to do there. It was a good way to take out
aggressions I had and my frustrations so it became fun to do. I've never
really been in a fight like that, but it's really nice to know that I can
take care of myself."

"You can take care of yourself alright. I still can't believe it. You
had all three guys down in less than five minutes. It was amazing! Makes
me damn glad I didn't try to hit you after you kissed me."

"I'd have let you hit me. Don't get me wrong... I would have defended
myself, but I wouldn't have hit you back."

"Why? That doesn't make any sense."

"You were my friend. I didn't want to hurt you. If what I did pissed you
off enough to take a swing at me, then I guess I deserved to get
punched."

"So if you 'were' my friend back then, how come you helped me yesterday?
Why didn't you just walk away and let those guys kick my ass?"

"I said you were my friend. I've never stopped being yours. You stopped
being mine. I couldn't let anyone hurt you especially if I could stop it
from happening. I'm not sure what drew me to the back of the parking lot
yesterday. Normally I would have just walked on, but something pulled me
back there yesterday. When I saw our school jacket and four against one,
I was obligated to try to do something. When I saw it was you they were
picking on, I wanted to beat the shit out of them. Fortunately I got the
chance to do that thanks to the big dumb guy taking the first swing."

"I'm sorry, Paul."

"You don't have anything to be sorry for, Bobby. I misunderstood. It was
all my fault for what happened. I put you in an impossible situation. I
never should have tried to kiss you. It was wrong for me to do. I really
thought we were in the same place. I know why I thought that, but it was
all just me confusing your kindness and friendship for more than it was.
I've learned that lesson. I won't be making that mistake again. I'm just
glad you were nice enough to not tell all your friends at school. That
probably would have been worse for me."

"Umm... you wanna go somewhere? You know get out of the house for a
while? We could take a drive someplace if you want."

"Yeah sure... I guess. Let me put on some shoes and grab my wallet and
keys."

As we got downstairs I found my dad to let him know I was going out for a
few hours. He reminded me that he'd be leaving for DC later that
afternoon. I hugged him and wished him a safe trip if I wasn't back
before he left for his trip. Outside I tossed the keys to Bobby and told
him to drive since it was his idea and he likely knew where he wanted to
go. He smiled that brilliant, sparkling smile of his. I hadn't seen that
since before the kiss. It melted my heart. I knew at that minute that we
could never really be friends. I really was in love with this guy. It was
more than a crush or good old fashioned lust. I had it bad for this guy.
His smile alone made me feel all mushy inside. I didn't know where Bobby
would go or why he wanted me with him, but I suspected it was his way of
expressing his thanks for my help. I also thought he probably really did
feel uncomfortable sitting in my room with me. The bed had to remind him
of the kiss I'd given him. I suspected that brought back all sorts of bad
memories -- memories he'd just as soon forget.

As Bobby drove and we talked, I was amazed at how easy it was to be with
him. In a matter of minutes it felt like I was transported back in time
to the point where everything was good between us. It didn't seem like
we'd had all those months of separation. We were heading down the coast.
When I asked if he had a destination in mind, I learned that he didn't.
We finally stopped for lunch at a place on the beach. The food was good.
Bobby insisted on paying for our meal. I didn't argue with him. His mind
was made up.

By the time we got back to the house, dad was already gone. He left a
note and money on the table. I put the cash in my wallet as Bobby
followed me to the kitchen for a soda. When I asked what he'd like from
the selection inside, he asked if he could have a beer. I opened two and
joined him at the table. I could read in Bobby's eyes that he had
something he wanted to say. I could tell it was the same thing he'd
wanted to say earlier when we were in my room. Since he hadn't found the
courage to say what was on his mind, I decided to push the issue. The
beer was his liquid courage so getting him to talk might take another
beer or two. I finally said,

"Bobby, it seems you've got something on your mind that you want to say.
I've always found that the best thing to do in those situations is to
just come out with it. Get it off your chest. You'll feel better once
you've said what's bothering you."

He looked across the table at me then drained the beer bottle in his
hand. I got up from my chair and got him another. I sat the open bottle
in front of him and then leaned back against the counter near the fridge.
Finally he asked,

"What exactly did you misunderstand? What made you think we were in the
same place back then?"

"Bobby, are you sure you really want to rehash all of this? I don't know
that it would make you feel any better if we do."

"Yeah... I really do want to know."

"I guess there were a lot of separate things that I misunderstood. I
don't know if I can even remember all of them now. But since you asked,
I'll do my best to give you a complete list. First it was the fact that
you befriended me on the first day. I've had lots of first days in new
schools. You are the first person to ever talk to me on the first day --
and really talk to me. Then you were so helpful -- offering to help me
get up to date with the two classes we shared. Then it was the kindness
you showed when you asked me to join you and your friends for lunch, and
you made me a part of your group of friends. Then there was that great
smile you've got. Your face always seemed to light up when you saw me.
Your eyes always sparkled when we talked. Your smile melted my heart. You
were kind and generous -- giving me rides to and from school when you
could and inviting me to the football games. You made me feel a part of
your success on the field by inviting me into the locker room with the
team after the games. Then we seemed to work well together. I remember
fixing a meal here with you. It seemed like we just functioned well
together. The weekend you stayed here you were so free and open. You wore
only boxers when you came down from your shower. We soaked in the hot tub
without clothes. We laughed and giggled that night like little kids. We
slept in the same bed without clothes. We played on the beach -- played
grab ass with each other. Do you remember trying to pull my shorts off
when we were in the water? Then there was your open discussion about my
foreskin and watching me as I pissed in the morning. You saw me with an
erection, and that didn't seem to put you off or freak you out. I guess
in my mind I took all of those things as signs that you were interested
in me as more than a friend."

"So have you had sex with other guys?"

"No. I never even really met anyone I thought of having sex with until
you."

"And you thought I'd be ok with that? You thought I'd want that?"

"I guess I did, or at least hoped you wanted the same thing. I found out
the hard way that you weren't."

"Why didn't you just ask me?"

"I wanted to so many times, but I just didn't know how to approach the
subject."

"So you decided to kiss me instead?"

"Actually I really didn't decide to do that. I didn't plan to kiss you.
That kiss was a spur of the moment decision. If I'd thought about it,
believe me I never would have done it. I just did it."

"I'm not a nudist or anything. I probably should have kept my clothes
on, but I'd never had the chance to walk downstairs in just underwear. I
could never go into a hot tub at home -- if we had one -- without wearing
a swim suit. I don't know why I decided to do it here other than the fact
that I felt comfortable around you. I never slept in the same bed with a
guy even when I was a kid so maybe I did want something more. Maybe I
just wasn't ready for the reality of 'more' when you kissed me. Maybe I
reacted the way I did because I was scared."

"There is a lot of uncertainty in all of that. I don't really know how
to deal with that."

Bobby stood in front of me. He looked into my eyes and said,

"I think I know a way, but you'd have to help me. Are you willing to try
that kiss again?"

"Hell yes!"

I'd no sooner said that when Bobby's lips were pressed against mine. I
wrapped my arms around his body as his arms pulled our waists and hips
closer together. Our bodies were connected from thighs to mouths. When
the first kiss broke we just looked at each other as we gasped for
breath. My hand was on the back of his head, I pulled Bobby's lips closer
to mine as we started the second kiss. He didn't resist. He leaned in for
more. My tongue touched his lips and they opened allowing my tongue
inside. I moaned as our tongues first touched. He was more forceful now
-- holding me tighter, running his hands over my back, pressing his lips
against mind, forcing his tongue into my mouth. As that second kiss broke
we kissed each other gently around each other's mouth and neck. I nibbled
on his ear lobe as his body shuddered from the sensation. The third kiss
Bobby's tongue was demanding as it pushed past my lips. As he kissed me
he was pulling my shirt out of my jeans and running his hands up by bare
back. I was moaning with that kiss -- needing and wanting more than just
this kiss, but being so happy with just kissing him. As this kiss broke,
Bobby was kissing my eyelids and ear and neck. I was so incredibly
aroused. Still holding me with his face in the crook of my neck he said,

"I think I've found the key to all my uncertainty."

"What's that?"

"You were right. This is what I wanted too, but I guess I was just too
afraid when the opportunity came along the first time. I'm glad I got a
second chance."

"What exactly do you want? What happens next?"

"Lets go to your room where we can be more comfortable and discuss it."

"Is this gonna freak you out later? Are you sure you want to do this?"

"I"m sure. My dick has never been this hard. Shit... it never got this
hard when I was having sex with a girl. One kiss from you, and it's
harder than rock. I feel like I'm gonna cum just from kissing you. Paul,
this just feels right. I knew it the first time I saw you walk into our
homeroom. I've known it every day since then. I was just scared of it. I
didn't want to be different than my buddies. Now I don't care. I've
wanted this since I was probably 12 years old. I can't pass up this
chance with you. I thought I lost the chance completely when you dropped
out of the group at school. When you were in the group I could at least
be a dick to you but still see you every day. I know you didn't see me,
but I watched you. I never stopped watching you. I didn't have the guts
to tell you I was sorry for how I'd treated you. I didn't have the guts
to tell you that I knew what you were going through. I didn't have the
guts to tell you that I wanted the same thing you wanted. I didn't have
the guts to kiss you back even though I wanted that more than anything
else in the world. When you came to my rescue yesterday, I had the excuse
I needed to come back here.. to talk to you. I wanted to kiss you when I
walked into your room, but I didn't have the guts to make the first move.
I've wasted too much time already. I won't let this chance slip by me
again. I need this. I want this. And most of all I want all of this with
you. Now can we please go to your room and get comfortable? My dick feels
like it's gonna explode."

"Don't you want to call your parents to let them know where you are?"

"I already told them I was spending the weekend with you. We just have
to go to church in the morning, but I don't have to be home until after
school on Monday. My clothes are in my car. We can get them later. Right
now I just really need to go to your room."

"I'll race you..."



And that brings me to the end of this story...

Thanks for reading my work!

Please share your comments, suggestions, and constructive criticism with
me at: dselliot28@yahoo.com

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on the "Author" tab and look for my name for a complete list of my
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Thanks for reading my submissions!

Peace and Love.

ds elliot