Date: Sun, 13 Feb 2005 11:22:57 -0800 (PST)
From: Mike Wilson <billynkyle@yahoo.com>
Subject: Spring Break Cruise Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen: Power

The last few weeks had been really good for me.  It seemed as though I
spent most of my time either talking to Travis or counting down the days
until his arrival.  After our fight we both seemed to be working a little
harder at keeping in touch and actually talking about stuff other than the
weather and homework.

Even things at school had gotten back to normal, mostly.  The more time
that passed, the less it felt as though my lunchroom temper tantrum even
mattered.  I mean, sure, I heard people call me names and stuff, but it was
weird.  They never did it to my face.  And after a while it just seemed so
stupid.  Like, don't these people have anything better to do?  I guess part
of the reason I felt that way was because I still had my friends.  At
least, the those who were important to me: Rob, Neil, Sam and of course,
Sara.

As for Rob, there were still times when I saw that look of disappointment
in his eyes and, I'll admit, times when I really wouldn't have minded
having his body on top of mine.  But somehow we managed to stay friends
without doing something we shouldn't.  He even told me he really wanted to
get together with Travis when he came to town.  The idea of the two of them
in the same room freaked me out actually, but I told him we'd figure out
something.

Travis called me on the Sunday before he was supposed to come to Chicago.

"Hey babe," he said as soon as I picked up the phone.  I leaned back on my
bed to get comfortable.

"Hey!  Whazzup?"

"Not much.  Just getting excited about Friday!"

"Me too."  It felt great to hear his voice again.  It always did.  "What do
you want to do first when you get here?"

"You mean besides taking your clothes off and making out?"

We both laughed.  "Yeah," I said.  "I was kinda thinking like things to see
and do!  Ya know . . . Sears Tower?  Lake Michigan?  That kind of stuff?"

"I don't know.  Whatever you want to show me.  I'm there to see you Andy.
Not the city."

Could he say anything more perfect?

"Thanks," I said softly.  "I can't wait to see you.  I miss you so much."

"Yeah."  He was quiet for a long time.  Then out of nowhere he asked me
what I was wearing.

"What?" it seemed like such a stupid question.

"You heard me," he said softly.  "What are you wearing?"

"I dunno.  Jeans, t-shirt," I said confused.  "Why?"

"I was just, ya know, trying to picture you.  What you were doing, what you
were wearing.  What it would be like to be with you right now."

As he spoke I began to wonder if maybe he had something in mind.

"Oh, I'm just lying here on my bed.  Thinking about you."  I waited a
moment and then whispered to him.  "So what are you wearing?"  I closed my
eyes as I listened.

"Shorts and my favorite t-shirt."  I smiled at his response.  I thought
about my old shirt touching his chest, his stomach, his back.

"Mmmm," I sighed into the phone.  "What . . . what would you do if you were
here now?"

"God Andy," his voice was low.  "I just . . . I just wanna be with you.  I
wanna kiss you so bad right now.  And then-"

"Then what?"  My hand slid under my t-shirt and I started rubbing it across
my chest slowly.  "Tell me."

"Then I'd touch you.  Your beautiful chest, your sexy face.  I'd take your
shirt off so I could remember how perfect you are."

My hand slid down and squeezed my cock as it grew listening to Travis'
voice.

"I'm so hard right now," he whispered.  "Are you?"

"Yeah."  I was holding my breath.  It felt, I don't know, wrong or
something to be talking like this on the phone.  But it was Travis.  I was
so turned on by what he was saying I didn't care.

"Are you touching it now, Andy?  You got your hand around that big cock?"

"Uh-huh," I groaned as I pulled down my zipper.  I was nervous and excited
all at once.  I couldn't believe Travis was saying these things, but I was
loving every moment.

"I wish you were here babe.  I wish this was your hand on my cock instead
of my own."  We were both breathing heavily into the phone.

"I'm gonna take it out now Travis," I said.

"Oh yeah.  Take it out for me Andy.  I miss it so much, I want in my mouth
so bad right now."

I started seriously stroking my cock.  My mind drifted back to the cruise
and the feel of Travis swallowing my dick.  I could picture his face, his
lips wrapped around my cock as his head moved up and down.  I groaned into
the phone.

"Is yours out?"

"Yeah," he said.  "It's so hard Andy.  It misses you."

I laughed nervously.  "I miss it to.  I want to kiss it.  To suck it
again."

Travis panted into the phone as I was rubbing my cock.

"I'm close," I said.

"Me too."  I heard him breathing louder as my strokes grew faster.  He let
out a tiny little cry and I knew he was cumming.  The sound of him pushed
me over the edge.  The cum shot out of my cock onto my navy shirt.  Two
long ropes stretching from the head of my dick up past my belly button.  I
opened my eyes and watched as more cum poured out of the end of my cock,
drooling down onto my hand.

"Oh my God," I said.  "That was so awesome."  I was smiling and exhausted
as I looked down at the mess on my shirt and listened to Travis catching
his breath.

"Shit!" he said starting to laugh.  "I hit my neck!"

I laughed.  "Dude!  No way!"

"Yeah, it's everywhere," Travis was still giggling as he spoke.  "It's your
fault I made this mess."

"Whatever dude, I just wish I could help you clean up."

"You'll get your chance," he said.  "Wait til Friday."

"I know.  But I want it now."  I was whining.  We both grew quiet.  "Did
you . . . did you plan on doing this tonight?"

"Kinda," he said sheepishly.  "Did you like it?"

"Oh yeah!  We shoulda done this a long time ago."  We both laughed.

Eventually we said good night and hung up.  I looked down at the dark, wet
streak on my t-shirt and heard Travis' voice again in my head.  In no time
I was hard again.  I pulled off my t-shirt and jacked off quickly, dumping
another load onto the already wet cotton before going to sleep smiling and
exhausted.

* * * * *

At school on Monday I was a total flake all day.  I couldn't concentrate,
couldn't think about anything other than Travis' arrival on Friday or what
we had done the night before.  I must have looked like a complete fool
wandering from one class to the next with a big goofy smile on my face.

After school I stopped by Mr. Walbaum's room to help Neil staple some
packets of information for the teachers about the safe space program.  I
told him a little of what Travis and I had done the night before (nothing
x-rated mind you, but Neil had no problem figuring out what I was talking
about) and he seemed even more excited than I was.  By the time I headed to
my locker the school was practically empty.  I couldn't wait to get home
and IM Travis.

I headed out to the parking lot.  I wasn't paying any attention at all as I
walked around the corner of the building and ran right into Steve Morgan
and a couple of other football players.

"Hey you shit," said one of them.  "Watch where the fuck your going!"

I stopped and looked up at them.

"Well look who it is!" Steve's face lit up with recognition and a mean
smile once he saw me.  "If it isn't the newest faggot in this school.  You
running off to meet up with your boyfriend, queer?"

I froze unsure of what to say or do.  "Just going home." I said quietly.
"Excuse me."  I started walking again.

"Don't you think you need to apologize?"  Steve stood directly in front of
me blocking my way.  The other guys laughed.

"Sorry," I said quietly, trying again to walk around them.  I was totally
freaked out now.  The three of them had sort of surrounded me, with Steve
right in my face and his idiot friends on either side of me.

"Where do you think you're goin, fucker?"  Steve said.  Nothing like this
had ever happened to me before.  I knew I had to get away but I wasn't sure
how.  If I ran I thought they might chase me down and besides I'd feel like
a total wuss.  I decided to just try and keep going.  Just walk past them
and not say anything.  Then I figured they'd leave me alone.  I kept going.

"Who said you could go anywhere faggot?" said Steve.  He put his hand on my
shoulder and I could feel him pressing down into me harder and harder.

"Leave me alone," I said louder.  Steve had both hands on my shoulders now.
The other guys were on either side of me.  I tried to squeeze out from
under his grip, but he was too strong and there was no place for me to go.
I was staring straight at Steve, his ugly pimply face just inches from my
own.  I glared at him and he smirked at me as if this were all just one big
joke.

In a fit of panic I swept my right arm up and shoved his hand off my
shoulder.  I hit it harder than I expected to and Steve's hand went flying
right into his friend's face next to me.

"Fucking homo," the friend said as he put his hand to his nose, a little
trickle of blood starting to drip on his lip.  Steve's smirk disappeared
and was replaced by pure rage.  I was trying to run away from them now but
couldn't.  The third friend had grabbed my left arm, holding me in place.

"Goddamit," Steve said.  In an instant he removed his arm from my shoulder
and punched me in the face.  I was so surprised I didn't know what had
happened until, a split second later the pain of his blow overwhelmed all
of my senses.  It was unlike anything I had felt before.  As if my whole
face had been run over by a car.  He punched me again, this time in the
stomach.  I doubled over in agony, my arm still being held by the other
guy.  I was coughing and gasping for air.  I could taste blood in my mouth
from the first punch and could barely breathe after the second.  Again he
hit me and I felt my legs go out from under me.  I couldn't breath, I
couldn't see.  I fell to the ground and instantly felt another blow to my
stomach as one of them kicked me.  Hard.

I don't know when they stopped or why.  I don't remember what they said as
they left.  What I do remember is lying on the ground, every inch of my
body screaming in pain.  My cheek was lay on the concrete and I remember
how rough it was against my skin.  I didn't move.  I couldn't move.  I just
lay there, spitting little streams of blood from my mouth, trying to suck
in air even though every breath was pure agony.  I wasn't crying or
screaming anymore.  I just groaned in pain.

It was Mr. Walbaum who found me.  I remember him kneeling down beside me
saying "Andy, it's okay.  I've called an ambulance.  Just stay still.  It's
okay."  I tried moving my head to look at him, but I couldn't do it.  He
held my hand and kept talking to me.  Within moments Mr. Simpson the
principal was also there.  I could hear his voice but mostly just saw his
pants and shoes.  From time to time I heard the two of them talking to one
another, but I didn't pay any attention.  I just wanted to go home.  To go
to bed.  To not hurt anymore.

I lay there on the ground, groaning and spitting for what seemed like
forever until the paramedics finally showed up.  They kept telling me to
relax which didn't help much.  They slid a board under me and strapped my
head to it so I wouldn't move.  Then they lifted me onto the gurney.
Mr. Walbaum stayed next to me the whole time, his hand still holding mine,
his voice still reassuring.

They put me in the ambulance and we sat there for quite a while.  They
tried asking me questions like what day it was and who the president is but
I was having a hard time speaking because my mouth felt like a big pile of
Jell-o.  Eventually we left the school and I remember being totally
disappointed that they didn't turn the siren on.  Stupid, I know.  One of
the paramedics explained they didn't want to go really fast to make sure
they didn't jostle me around or anything.

We got to the hospital and I was wheeled into a curtained area in the
emergency room.  A nurse came in and took my temperature and talked to the
paramedics.  It all seemed like gibberish to me-something about possible
fractures and contusions and stuff I didn't understand.  Finally the nurse
actually came over to me and explained she was going to start getting me
cleaned up a little bit so the doctor could examine me.  She also said she
was going to help me put on a hospital gown and that they'd have to cut my
clothes off because they were worried I might have some broken bones and
didn't want me moving around to get undressed.  I didn't pay much attention
to what she was saying until I saw her take the scissors and start cutting
my shirt.  I looked down and realized it was Travis' old shirt I was
wearing.

I couldn't help myself as I started crying these huge blubbery sobs, each
one more painful than the last.  Wave after wave the tears came until my
face was covered with snot and tears and blood.  Mr. Walbaum grabbed my
hand but it didn't matter.  I kept picturing Steve Morgan's ugly, angry
face the moment before he punched me.  I kept looking down at Travis'
shirt, ruined and soiled.  With every gasp of air the pain was more and
more unbearable.

"It's okay honey," the nurse kept saying as she slid the scissors up from
my waist to my neck.  She patted my arm gently, but it was no use.  "The
doctor will be here soon.  Just relax, we're going to take good care of
you."  She peeled the shirt away from my chest leaving it draped under me.
I wanted to disappear.  I wanted to be anywhere than where I was, feeling
anything other how I was feeling.

Eventually the doctor came in after I had settled down a bit.  He seemed
pretty nice I guess and spent a lot of time gently moving me and touching
me wanting to know which parts of me hurt and which didn't.  I groaned in
response to his questions, unable to say much of anything.

"Well Andy," he said.  "We're going to need to take some x-rays.  Right now
I'm guessing you might have a couple of broken bones but until we take some
pictures I won't know for certain.  I'm going to give you some medicine for
the pain, the nurse will take you to x-ray and then we'll have you stay
overnight here in the hospital, okay.  buddy?"

I grunted at him.

"I'll come see you when the x-rays are complete and you're in your room.
Just hang in there."

I grunted again.

The pain medicine they gave me worked instantly and made me really sleepy.
Soon they wheeled me down some halls and took me into the x-ray room.  The
woman there seemed to take a hundred different pictures.  From time to time
the skimpy little hospital gown would ride up and she kept trying to make
sure that I retained my modesty by making sure my dick and balls never saw
the light of day which I guess was considerate of her.  But I could
honestly have cared less what she saw.  I was so tired.  All I wanted to do
was to be left alone to sleep.

Finally, they wheeled me to a room and my parents were both there waiting
for me.  My mom was crying as she came over to hug me gently.  Dad came
over to the other side of my bed.

"Hey champ," he was trying to smile as he took my hand.  "How ya doing?"

"Tired" I mumbled while I was sniffling, happy to see them both.  My voice
sounded weird, like my whole mouth was stuffed with cotton.  "Where's
Ruthie?"

"She's over at the Jacobsen's" my Mom said referring to our next door
neighbors.  She rubbed her eyes.  "I'm sure she'll want to see you soon."

They tried asking me a lot of questions about what the doctor had said and
how I was feeling (although nothing at all about how this happened).  But I
don't think I was much help to them.  I was tired and couldn't speak very
well through my swollen lips.  A short time later the doctor came in the
room and introduced himself to my parents.

"All right Andy, how are you feeling?" he asked as he reviewed some
paperwork.

"Fine," I mumbled.  "Tired."

"Well, you've had a quite a day.  I can understand why you're tired.  So
I'll try to keep this quick and then I'd recommend you turn in and get some
rest.  As you know we took x-rays of pretty much every bone in your body.
And I am happy to report that you are a very lucky young man.  We found no
fractures.  It does appear that you've got a bruised rib which is why it
hurts to breathe.  Everything else is superficial.  You bit your tongue
pretty hard at some point which is why there was some blood and why it's
been hard to speak.  Your eye is swollen shut but we don't detect and
serious injury there.  It should go down in a few days and we may need to
do some more tests on that but generally these things clear up on their
own.  You'll have one heckuva shiner for a while.

"The bad news, my young friend, is that modern medicine can't do a whole
lot for you.  Your rib will heal on it's own over time and the rest of your
injuries should also pretty much fix themselves.  We'll give you some pain
medicine but the real prescription for healing all of this is six to eight
weeks of rest.  No strenuous activity of any kind.

"We will keep you here overnight as a precaution, but then tomorrow you'll
go home.  You'll be able to go back to school whenever you feel up to it.
Perhaps by the end of the week.  Any questions?"

If I had listened a little more carefully to what he said, I suppose I
might have had some more questions.  But I was so tired and out of it, I
couldn't think of anything.  In fact, I started dozing off as he and my
parents continued talking.

Mom came over to me after the doctor left and took my hand.  She asked me
if I wanted them to stay the night and I said no.  I just wanted everyone
to leave so I could sleep.  She kissed my forehead and told me they'd be
back first thing in the morning.  She smiled down at me and I stared back
at her blankly.

The night in the hospital was kind of rough.  Actually, it was awful.  I
kept waking up either because of pain or because a nurse was trying to take
my temperature.  And invariably as I'd drift back to sleep, the days events
would be replayed in my head, Steve Morgan's brutal face right in front of
me.

The next day was pretty much a blur.  I felt terrible.  Every muscle in my
body was aching, every bruise tender.  Mom and Dad showed up at my hospital
room bright and early.  The doctor came by and gave me a whole bunch of
instructions and some prescriptions before he said I could go home.  I
stared at him and nodded but I wasn't paying any attention.  I wanted to be
left alone.  Dad helped me get dressed and just like in the TV shows they
took me to the hospital entrance in a wheelchair.

For most of the day at home, I just slept.  It was hard to get comfortable
no matter what position I was in, but still I didn't want to talk, didn't
want to see anyone.  Some time in the afternoon I got up to use the
bathroom and spent a few minutes staring at myself in the mirror.  I looked
terrible.  My left eye was surrounded by this huge circle of puffy, black
bruise.  My lips were dry and swollen.  Slowly I pulled up my shirt and
looked down at my stomach.  There were ugly brown bruises everywhere with a
huge red splotch covering most of my right side.  I took my hand and gently
pressed some of the bruises discovering just how sore and painful each one
was.  I wobbled back into my bed.

Throughout the rest of the day Mom kept coming in and checking on me.  I
always told her the same thing.  I was fine.  Just tired.  She gave me
pills for the pain and tried to get me to eat, but I wasn't hungry at all.
She wanted me to come downstairs and rest in the living room, reminding me
that the doctor said sitting in the recliner might be comfortable.  But I
didn't want to go downstairs.  I didn't want to see anyone and sure didn't
want anyone to see me.  It pissed me off that she wouldn't leave me alone.

That evening Dad knocked on my door and came in, telling me I had a
visitor.  I started to tell him I didn't want to see anyone but as I spoke
he opened the door wider and I could see Rob behind him.

"Hey tough guy," he said gently as he walked in the room.  "How ya
feeling'?"

"Like shit" I mumbled.

"Wow," Rob's face got more serious.  He stood there awkwardly for a few
moments.  "I just. . . . I was worried when I didn't hear from you.  What
did the doctors say?"

"Bruised rib."

"So, um, what happened?"

I turned my head away from him.  I wasn't sure I could tell the story.

"It was Steve Morgan.  He . . . it was stupid.  I ran into him or something
in the parking lot.  I just wasn't watching what I was doing.  I shoved his
arm off and it hit one of his stupid friends.  Then they . . . beat me up."

"God," Rob walked over to my bed.  He put his hand on mine.  "I'm sorry
Andy.  This is horrible."

"Thanks.  I'm glad you came."

"Yeah, well I suppose I should have called or something before coming
over. I just . . . well I needed to see you.  Make sure you were okay.
Lemme know if you need anything this week.  Homework or . . . well just
anything, all right?"

"Yeah.  I will.  I promise," I said trying to smile at him.

Rob headed out of the room and I decided to call Travis.  I didn't know
where to begin, but he was the only person I actually wanted to talk to.

"Hey babe!"  I don't think I would ever get tired of hearing that.

"Hey," I said quietly.

"What's up?  I missed you online yesterday."

"Yeah, that's why I was calling.  Something . . . . something happened
yesterday Travis."  I was tearing up as I spoke to him.

"What?  What's wrong?  Why are you talking so funny?"

"I . . . . I got beat up," I said.

"What?  What are you talking about Andy?"

"At school.  After . . . after school yesterday I ran into some stupid
football players and they . . . they beat me up."

"Oh my God!  I don't believe it.  Are you okay.?  What . . . what did they
do to you?"  There was panic in Travis' voice.

"Black eye.  Bruised rib.  That's why I haven't been online.  I . . . I was
at the hospital last night."

"You were in the hospital?!  Oh shit, I'm so sorry.  Are you okay?  I mean
. . . oh my God.  I wish I could be there for you."

"I don't know if you'd say that if you could see me," I said.

"You know that doesn't matter to me, Andy.  I'd hold you no matter what
because I love you.  So . . . what started it?  I mean, why did they do
it?"

"I told you I like bumped them or something.  I guess I wasn't really
paying attention or something and they got all pissed off.  They held me
and I tried to get away but they wouldn't let me."

Travis was quiet for a while.  "Do you think, do you think it's cause you
came out?"

"No," I whined.  "I mean, they did call me a faggot and stuff, but . . . ."
Travis' question confused me.  It hadn't occurred to me before that maybe
they did what they did because I was gay.  I thought it was just because
they were idiots.

"I'm sorry Andy.  Don't worry about it.  It was a stupid question."

We were silent for a long time.  All I could hear were the sounds of his
breathing which made me feel better.  Protected.  Loved.  Just the presence
of Travis on the other end of the line seemed to give me some sort of
strength, some hope that I might just get through all this.

"It hurts," I said quietly.

"Your rib?"

"No, how much I love you.  My heart hurts because I can't even begin to
tell you what I'm feeling.  I love you."

"I love you too, Andy"

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SPRING BREAK CRUISE
February 2005

Thanks for your ongoing encouragement and emails.  I really love hearing
from readers so I hope you'll let me know what you think of the story.
There are several more chapters in the works so if you're enjoying it,
there's plenty more to come!

This is a work of fiction.  I hope you enjoy it! Please do feel free to
write to me at: billynkyle@yahoo.com or you can try me on MSN Messenger or
Yahoo Messenger at: billynkyle@yahoo.com.  Comments and critiques are
welcome.

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