Date: Wed, 19 Dec 2001 10:39:38 -0600
From: james smith <boyzheart@hotmail.com>
Subject: Ronnie Series

Ronnie (Chapter 2)

Disclaimer:  This is a work of fiction depicting teenage males in romantic
and/or sexual positions and activity.  The people depicted in this story may
or may not really exist (many characters may have distant ties to the
memories of my past).  The places and historical social events are most
likely true, but you may not always be able to associate both to the same
place and time.

If you are under 18 years of age (or whatever the legal age I your area is)
you must leave.  If you find this material offensive, you should not be
reading this story.  If you choose to continue . . . you have been warned,
and I trust you to make your own wise choices.

Author's note:  I am completely overwhelmed by the warm responses and words
of encouragement from the first chapter, all the more so after I read the
posted version - sorry for the poor editing.  I did proof and edit
extensively with the word processing program on my laptop, but failed to
edit the saved text file I submitted to Nifty.  Hopefully the future
submissions will be easier to read.  I guess I expected some responses, but
the number was overwhelming and I am deeply grateful for your encouragement.
  It is hard to bare your soul like this - thanks!  If you did not receive a
response from me it was because your return address failed - I really took
time to answer every email.  Please try again if you didn't hear from me.

A special thanks goes out to the author of one of my favorite stories,
Discovering Gregory, in the High School section.  I will respect his privacy
and not give his name, but he is the one who encouraged me to go ahead and
write.  His story is so in tune with the internal struggles that many of us
have experienced.  Do yourself a favor and check his work out.

I welcome any comments . . . any of them.  I will do my best to answer any
email, but please be patient with me if I do not get to you right away - I
will respond.  The purpose of my writing is to express what has been held
for so long without a voice.  Hopefully these ramblings will help someone
who may be struggling with similar feelings and experiences.  Please feel
free to contact me at boyzheart@hotmail.com with any comments or
suggestions.

Chapter 2

"Ah-hem!  You guy's gonna lay there playing kissy face all morning!"

Damn!  Damn!  Damn!  I know that voice without looking.  It was Mike.

God . . . it must be Monday!  Why does this always happen to me?

Panic flashed across Ronnie's eyes as the voice jerked him away from his
(our?) pending internal combustion.  Instantly his raging cock shrank and he
was quickly detangling himself from me. "Oh . . . God no . . . What have I
d . done!" the fear and panic obvious in his voice.  "I'm sooo sorry . . .
oh god . . ."

My mind was still floating in that incredible time warp - you know the one;
everything is happening at warp speed all around you, but somehow your mind
is able to parse everything down to the millisecond - one frame at a time.
(I remember being knocked out by a classmate once while standing at the
blackboard.  How long does it take to get clocked in the back of the head
and crumple down in a heap to the floor?  Not long - right.  Well,
occasionally that scene plays over and over in my mind.  I feel almost as
though I am outside my body, because I can see the punch coming.  I see the
angry glint and determination in his eyes; and the subtle change of
expression as he realized how hard he'd actually hit me.

I can see the three girls who put him up to the dastardly deed as they
giggle at the sight of my falling form.  As I am falling the thought goes
through my mind that I will most likely lay there on the floor (where my
head is rapidly approaching) until the teacher gets back from her ritual
smoke break during the middle of third period - always took her twenty
minutes.  Twenty minutes for these CREEPS to do everything their bigoted
little minds could conceive.  I wonder what she will do when she returns and
I am lying there with my pants and boxers around my knees, erasers or other
unnatural objects crammed up my ass, blood running out my ears, my dick and
balls bruised and bloody from all the kicking and . . . then I hit the
floor.  Seemed like hours transpired in all of three or four seconds).

Somehow Ronnie was gone, completely gone, slipped out of my arms and was
gone.  I looked around for him.  (Please God, this can't be happening.)  My
mind flashes - Mike, this is his fault!  He planned it, why?

Finally (again, only milliseconds have transpired) I found my voice, "Mike!
My God!  Mike,  what are you doing!  Please . . .please, it's not what you
think!" my voice trembling.  I don't know if I am mad at him for
interrupting the most intense and intimate moment of my entire life, or
embarrassed that Mike had found me in so compromising of settings with
another boy, or worried that I have just lost the boy of my dreams before I
really had him.  (Looking back I know all those thoughts plus a few hundred
others were circling my brain all at the same time).

"Calm down!" he interrupted, "calm down Andy.  It is what I think . . . and
it's okay.  Everything is going to be okay."

"How can you say that!"  I was panicked, my breathing was suddenly
constricted, and the room was now circling, spinning out of control.  My
whole world suddenly was out of control - no, beyond that; it's over.  "What
am I going to do?" I heard myself saying.  Why did Mike have to come in just
at this moment?  Why am I so stupid that I didn't lock the door?  (I know, I
couldn't lock the door - I was still lying there all but naked in the middle
of the locker room floor.  You have to have a key to lock the outside door
and the interior door to the locker room does not lock, but how do you
reason with yourself in a rational manner in a situation like this?).

I felt Mike pulling me up to my feet and leading me over to the bench.
Obviously, he had figured out why I was all but naked on the wet floor with
my clothes around my ankles and an angel in my arms.  (Did I mention he
holds down a perfect 4.0 GPA?) He forced me to sit down, and then gently
lifted each leg removing the wet warm-ups and placing them back on the bench
just as gently.  There were so many thoughts screaming in my mind, jousting
for first utterance, that I suppose I just short-circuited.  I wanted to run
after Ronnie . . . but what would I say if I found him?  I want to hit Mike
for ruining everything . . . but he would absolutely brake me in half.
Right now all I could muster was a panic down so deep inside that it was
paralyzing.

Tears slowly began leaking out of my face.  I could feel the comforting heat
of them as they traced their way along the sides of my nose and the corners
of my mouth.  I wondered if the salty taste of them had any similarity to
cum . . .what would Ronnie taste like if . . . that of course I will never
know.

Mike is beside me now, his arms encircling me, pulling me down to his strong
chest.  I try to resist - I so desperately want to be angry - not comforted
at this moment.  But I am no match for his calm, consistent strength.  I am
no longer able to hold it back, the dam bursts and I begin to heave and sob
there in his embrace.  "Shhhh . . .sshhh.  I'm here for you. . . it's going
to be okay."  His voice somehow magical, almost mystical in it's ability to
still the torrents in my mind and body.

I'm really not sure how long he sat there rocking me, holding me.  He
patiently stroked my hair with his right hand, while the left comforted me
with familiar motherly touches.  (I was suddenly aware of the fabric
softener in his clothes and my mind began to consider Mom and what she would
think had she walked in on us . . . can't even go there right now).  Slowly
I began to regain some semblance of composure, only occasionally sobbing
after the tears dried up.  I pulled myself away from his warm chest and
sighed deeply.

"Mike . . . I . ."

"No, Andy . . . please let me talk," he said.  "I know how confused you are
right now.  I know this because I have the same confusion.  Andy, I know
that you have been watching me more closely lately.  The way you look at me
in the mornings is not like you have ever looked at me before."  He paused
and seemed to reflect for a moment.  "Do you remember when you told me the
other day that you love me?"

I nodded my response.

"I told you that I knew it already, right?"

Same response.

"Look at me," he whispered while gently lifting my sunken head and eyes to
meet his gaze.  Slowly he leaned in and kissed me.  Softly, almost feathery
soft.  His lips were warm, moist, and trembling.  "Andy, I feel it too . . .
I love you."  Tears, welling up in the brim of his eyes threatened to spill
down his day old stubble of whiskers.

"I love you, but I am so torn by this.  You don't know the nights I have
laid in the bed watching you in the dim light, listening to your every
breath, and longing to slide in beside you.  I love you so much it hurts.  I
have watched you grow up and transform from a little kid, to a sensuous
being.  Look at you - strong, beautifully defined muscles, killer tan . . .
your eyes are so . . . But, you are my brother, my flesh and blood.  I
cannot act on what my body and senses are screaming at me.  It would ruin
what we already have - your friendship. . . our relationship is the single
most important thing in the world to me.

"I have known for sometime that you are probably gay.  I just wasn't able to
come to terms with my own feelings.  Seeing you here with Ronnie made me
finally know that two boys can be in love - it is as natural as love itself.
  You and Ronnie looked perfect together."

I remained silent through the whole thing, my fingers still covering my lips
where his had been.  I was already beyond the unrealistic fear that by
best-friend-brother would hit me over the way my heart works.  (Isn't it
funny how your mind can at times just reach a decision and turn on/off a
switch without so much as a second opinion from the rest of yourself?  Then,
the same mind cannot move off dead center by a heard of buffalo!)  I
returned my gaze to his emerald eyes.  "Mike, what are we going to do . . .
what am I going to do?  What is going to happen to me . . . to us?"

Mike patted me on my very exposed butt-cheek and said, "well, to start with,
finish what you started - go get a shower.  I will try to find Ronnie for
you.  I scared the shit out of him and I don't want him freaking out and
doing something stupid."  I cringed at the thought.  (I am not even going to
dwell on that because I cannot possibly deal with where it can take me . . .
STOP!)

"Mike, why did you come here this morning?"

"I realized that you would most likely be alone.  I knew you would want to
shower and change.  I hoped I could see you  . . . like . . . without
clothes . . . alone without Mom and Dad just down the hall.   I wanted to
talk to you about all that was pressing me to these crazy thoughts.  I
didn't expect Ronnie.  I never dreamed that I would walk in on you like
that."  There was sincerity in his voice that made me believe him.

I thought about his reply.  "If you didn't expect Ronnie, and you hadn't
cleared your mind that you are gay . . .what did you expect would happen
when you found me."

Mike sat very silent for several seconds.  Finally he sighed, "thank God
Ronnie was here."  He dropped his gaze to the floor between his feet.  The
tone in his voice dropped as well, "I don't know Andy.  I know I would never
hurt you, I would never force you to do anything you didn't want to do."

I got up, pealed the wet jock off, exposing myself totally in front of Mike.
  I saw the lust in his eyes as my circumcised member began to swell.  I
leaned in and kissed him on the cheek.  Hugging his shoulders I said, "thank
you Mike.  I do love you, more today then ever."

I pulled away and headed for the shower.  "Please find him Mike, please."

The next couple of hours were a total blur.  I barley remember showering.  I
do remember deciding that I wasn't going to gratify myself in the warm
water.  Somehow that seemed dirty to me now.  (I can't explain it, I just
felt that somehow that was what Ronnie was to do and that I would be
cheating on him somehow.  But that really confused me because we aren't even
together - or are we?  Good grief.).

Sitting in class my mind was unable to focus on anything upon which I should
be concentrating.  I didn't share any classes with Mike, as he was a full
grade ahead of me.  Ronnie was two behind me; there was simply no way I
could find out what happened to Ronnie until after school (unless I skip
out).  Would he ever be able to look me in the face again?  I marveled at
how bold he was to reach out and take what was before him.  All the rest of
the time I had any interaction with him, he was pretty timid, except when we
played sports.  He was most comfortable while on the field or court.  There
he seemed to come alive, brimming with self-confidence.  Stepping up to the
challenge with all the confidence of a young lion-heart.  He seemed so in
tune with his body, so able to make it yield to his desire to excel.  But,
as soon as he stepped off the field, he reverted to a quiet, shy boy and
always seemed contented to blend into the scenery.  If I didn't know better
it was almost as if he was afraid of being "normal" with the rest of his
peers.

When we were so close in the locker room this morning he seemed all the
world to be so sure of himself and what he wanted.  I almost had the feeling
that he . . . planned our encounter.  But that would mean that he was
thinking about me before that encounter.

If he was thinking about me, what was he thinking?  Could he see through me
like my brother did?  Why did he think I wouldn't pound him for kissing me?
I mean, that is not something you do - kiss another guy (especially when
you're naked).  I could never have the courage to act on an impulse like
that.  I wonder what he is thinking right now.  Is he remembering what our
tongues tasted, or our hands felt?  I know I cannot get the feeling of his
incredible boy butt out of my mind.  Never could I have conjured up the
intensity of that moment with my previous experiences.  I almost felt like I
was melting into his flesh - it was as if we were one person for that
moment.

Don't ask me how I managed to make it to lunch.  Did the bell ring?  I
endured the fodder in the lunch line and got my tray.  (Our school is a
small private school so we don't have the best of a lot of things, but the
cafeteria is cool.  One of the student's father owned a restaurant chain and
agreed to staff and prepare the cafeteria, at extremely reduced cost - so at
least the food didn't suck.)  I made my way over to my usual table.  Most of
the time I ate alone.  I am not the most popular kid at school.  Like I said
before, I am not ugly, not odd (well, you know what I mean), but I just
didn't seem to really fit in with most of the other kids.  We never really
had that much in common.  Occasionally, some of the jocks would sit with me
if we had some big sporting event looming, but usually - I was alone.  This
is just what I need today.  Alone.  I need time to sort through all this
shit in my life.  Why is this happening to me?

I desperately wanted to ditch the rest of the day and go find Ronnie.  Most
likely he was recovered enough to be in class on the Junior High side of the
campus.  No way I could get to him.  He wouldn't come with me anyway - Mike
scared him so bad that he probably will be warped the rest of his life.
Poor kid was trembling when he left my arms . . . God, he felt so good in my
arms.

I closed my eyes and let my mind stay right there, encased in the arms of my
lover. . . I can smell him again. . . the fresh soap smell, herbal shampoo.
. .then there is the definite and unmistakable smell of a young boy . . .My
lower regions begin to respond to the mental images that are so vivid that I
can even smell him!  All other lunchroom noise and confusion begin to drift
away.  Concentrate . . .focus. . . almost . . . yes!  I can feel him.  His
eyes have glazed over as he closes them and slowly leans down . . . his face
now inches from my face.  I can feel his breath on my skin . . . toothpaste.
. .seems so real.

"Andy," a distant voice comes rattling into my sub-consciousness.  "Andy,
are you in there?"

Damn!  Damn!  Damn!  I want to be alone - please go away, I liked the other
dream better.

"Andy."  I felt someone shaking me.  Like a weird cinema transition, I feel
my consciousness zoom into focus.  (Eyes open . . . blink . . . focus . .
mind coming back to the present . . )  Mike was sitting across the table
with his hands roughly shaking my crossed hands on top of the table.  He
doesn't have my same lunch period, why is he here?  Why did he wake me - I
was dreaming about Ronnie?!

Sitting up, it all came back; Mike went to find Ronnie.  "Did you find him?
Is he okay?  He didn't do something stupid did he?  I will just die if he
did anything to himself because of me!" came flooding out of my mouth as I
searched his face for some clue of an answer.

"Yes, yes, no, and you will have to take that up with him," Mike replied
without even the slightest hint of emotion.  (Damn, I hate him sometimes).

"But . . . can you take me to him?  Where is he?  Is he mad?  Do you think
he will talk to me?"  I was sounding like some preppy high school kid.

A slight smile began to spread across his face as his eyes glanced slightly
over my left shoulder.  Irritated at his cavalier attitude about this my
most sever life crisis to date, I followed his gaze over my shoulder.  Just
millimeters away were the deepest blue eyes I ever saw, Ronnie's.

I jumped sideways as if hit by electricity.  My right elbow bumped into the
tabletop so hard that I jumped forward out of pain.  This caused my butt to
slide off the chair - and there I was, sure as shooting, flat on my ass
again.  (I can't take much more of this shit - just a little bit more and I
am sure I will end up in a straight jacket and a patty-wagon).

"Ronnie!"  I exclaimed loudly enough to draw even more attention.  Glancing
both ways quickly, "How did you get in here?  Where did you go?  Mike . . ."

Mike reached down and lifted me up by the upper arms and said, "Come on,
were ditching the rest of the day.  We have some things to talk about."  His
firm grasp and the warmth in his eyes told me that there was no refusing
(like that would happen) and that there was hope.

"Are you okay?" Ronnie asked.

"Do you only have one question in your pretty little head?"

"Do you always use the floor as your only pick-up line?"  That beautiful
smile spread over his face.


That's all for now. Thanks again for taking the time to read, hope you
enjoy.  Those who have responded have meant the world to me.  Thanks!.
boyzheart@hotmail.com

-Andy