Date: Tue, 02 Sep 2003 01:34:00 +0000
From: Guy Jameson <guyjameson@hotmail.com>
Subject: The Sons of JJ Jameson Chapter 9

Thanks again go to Dee for helping to edit and for
critiquing this series of stories.

I also want to thank those of you who have read this story
and have responded to what you've read.  I am open to
receive comments and answer questions about the story.  If
you see areas for improvement, feel free to respond.

DISCLAIMER: These feeble writings are not for everyone.
Some of you will find there's not enough sex; others will
find the type of sex is not to your liking.  A few people
may even be offended by what comes later in the series.

Remember that male2male sex covers a lot of ground.  It
takes some people longer than others to develop their sexual
appetites.  This is especially true about the people
described in this continuing story.

There may even be a few of you who are too young or live in
an area where reading something that is even the slightest
bit erotic is not legal.  I will not share responsibility if
reading these chapters gets you into trouble with members of
your family (particularly with parents) or with the legal
authorities.  I live in Oklahoma so I can sympathize with
you.  Maybe we should all move to someplace a little more
understanding.

This story belongs to me and as such is copyrighted
according to the terms laid down by Nifty.

This story is based on fact but not everything described
actually happened to us or happened in the way it is
disclosed here.  Any similarity with persons living or not
is purely coincidental.

I hope you enjoy.  Feel free to send comments to me at
guyjameson@hotmail.com


                   THE SONS OF JJ JAMESON
           CHAPTER 9: VICTOR'S VICTORY IS COMPLETE


Life without JJ was a lot more boring than I thought it
would have been with him.  But I knew that life must go
on-just as I knew his would.  That first summer was the most
difficult for me but I began to make some friends and I had
begun to develop my sports skills.  I was also making some
money cutting grass.  I spent as little time as possible in
the house.

Dad was furious with me most of the time.  I went to church
for a while just to appease him but my heart wasn't in it.
About half way through the summer, though I put my foot down
and refused to accompany him and JJ's mom any more.
Eventually, when he realized I had made up my mind and to
get me in church would require force, he gave into the
inevitable.  To gain my freedom from dad's church cost what
little peace existed between us however.  Dad considered me
lost to Satan and allowed me to stay in his house only
because I was still only fifteen and he believed it would be
more shameful to have me in state custody than for him to
live with my decision.

I'd hoped he would send me to school with JJ but he was
equally determined that would not happen.  I suppose he saw
that possibility as a reward and his own surrender to the
'Satanic Forces'.

September finally rolled around and I entered my first year
in high school as a freshman.  Many of the people I knew in
junior high lived in a different high school attendance zone
than I did.  But since I had ended my eighth grade year
without any real friends, I had to admit I wasn't bothered
by the necessity of meeting new people.  As I arrived at
school that first day, I looked around to see if I knew
anyone.  Nope, none of my old acquaintances were in sight.
I reported to first period and still didn't recognize
anyone.

In fact the whole morning, there was not one person I had
known in school before.  At lunch I did run into a couple of
guys I had met at the park during the summer but they had
their old friends surrounding them.  I chose not to
interfere.

I had enrolled in sixth period P. E. thinking I would have a
go at trying out for the wrestling team.  Having had no
experience in wrestling I figured it would be a real long
shot to make the team but at least I'd be able to work out
and get to know some guys on a fairly personal level-maybe
make a friend.  OK, that may have not been the brightest
thing to believe, but I figured it would be worth a chance.

As luck would have it, the first person I saw as I walked
into the gym was-you guessed it-Tom Matthews.

"Hey Preacher Boy," he shouted across the room.  "How's that
faggot brother of yours?  He's getting along OK in reform
school, is he?"

I just looked over my shoulder, decided starting an argument
here where my likely defeat would be witnessed by all the
jocks in school was not worth the chance, and walked further
from him. Even though Tom and I had reached sort of a truce
last year I didn't relish the thought of having to stand up
against him again this soon.
This being the first day of school, all the coaches called a
general meeting where we would select our sports and receive
instructions until our season would begin.  Tom and his buds
were already signed up for football, which of course was the
first big sport of the year.  That, at least, would relieve
me from being bothered by Tom in this class.  I was happy.

Then, I discovered that he had also elected wrestling as his
winter sport.  But at least for a few months I wouldn't have
him underfoot and I would have a chance to get my foot into
the wrestling training program before he showed up.  There
were only about half a dozen guys who wanted to wrestle who
didn't also play football.  There was a chance I could
possibly form a couple of friendships or at least an
alliance with some of the other wrestlers.

After the general meeting was held, the head coaches of each
sport held their own meetings.  I was very pleased to find
out that the head wrestling coach did participate in
football so he would be able to personally supervise our
weight training.


And so September went.  Then October.  The wrestlers who
didn't play football spent their P. E. time in weight
training.  It was supposedly against the state athletic
regulations to begin any real workouts in non-season sports,
but our coach hadn't had a winning season for several years
and "bent" the rules a bit by teaching us a few moves.  My
body responded very well to the workouts.  I was getting
"buff".

The football team was having a winning season for the first
time in years.  Much of their success was attributed to the
new freshmen on the team, Tom being one of the chief
contributors to a better season.  Come wrestling season, I
knew he would be really pumped.  I just hoped he was so far
out of my weight class I wouldn't have to get "down and
dirty" with him.

Football season came to an end.  The team had done better
than it had for years but not well enough to go into the
after season state tournament.  Wrestling season started
with a bang.  But by then I had made a couple of friends and
was feeling pretty good about life in general.


After our first wrestling practice, I went into the shower
to clean up before going home.  There were only two vacant
shower heads.  I selected one and began to get wet prior to
soaping up.  The room was noisy with boys ranging in age
from freshmen (about 15 years old) to seniors who were
approaching eighteen or in a few cases had already
celebrated their first age of "majority".

I was facing the center of the shower room when Tom walked
in, naked of course and swaggering just a bit.  He thought
because of his football successes that he would now rule the
wrestling mat and this first practice had indicated he
probably was going to be the top man in his weight class.  I
noticed he had grown since the last time I had seen him in a
locker room.  His muscles were well developed-pecs sharp
enough to cut stone and all the other parts were in perfect
proportion.  I had to admit Tom was one good-looking stud.
Except for the cocky look on his face, of course.

Tom looked around at all the occupied showerheads, spied the
one vacancy next to me and swaggered to it.  I turned away
from him and continued soaping up.

"What's the matter Preacher Boy?  Don't you want to see what
a real man looks like?  Still not comfortable with
glorifying the body, maybe?  Or are you so embarrassed to be
a faggot's brother that you can't look normal people in the
face?"

I turned around to face my tormenter.  I looked him over
being as obvious about it as I could be, pausing when I saw
his large heavy cock resting in its nest of dark hair.

"I don't see anything that's all that interesting, Tom,
especially in the real man department."

Tom looked at me as if he wanted to punch my lights out.

"Tom," I continued softly.  "Let's not get started on our
old fight.  I know you're a stud.  You know you're a stud.
We both know you're the current star jock of the school.
You don't have to get started with me to prove anything."

Not many people, it seemed, had the guts to talk that way to
Tom-he was after all everything I'd said he was.  My
statement took him back just a peg or two.  He looked at me
a bit more closely.  What Tom saw was a boy his own
height-just a shade under six feet, but about thirty pounds
lighter.  But what was left after subtracting the thirty
pounds wasn't bad.  My body was hard, not much fat covering
the muscles I had acquired naturally from some distant
ancestor and improved with the daily weight training.

Over the three months he was playing football, I had been
hitting the weights pretty heavily.  I was well defined and
well shaped.  Coach for some reason had taken a liking to me
and had taken a very personal interest in my physical
development.  The thing that caught Tom's attention the
most, however, was the size of my cock.  I had at least an
inch more hanging between my very hairy legs than Tom did
and probably two inches more in diameter. I had him beat
hands down in what Tom had always considered to be the most
important thing in being a man.  If he had looked around,
Tom would have seen I had the biggest dick in the room.

"OK, Victor.  I'm willing to forget our past differences-for
the sake of the team.  But I'd better not catch you looking
at me the way your faggot brother did," he said with great
bravado.

"Don't worry, Tom.  The only place I want to fight you is on
the mats," I responded trying to sound a lot tougher than I
felt.
Tom finished his shower before I did and headed for the
locker room.  I let out a sigh of relief.  Frankly I didn't
really believe I could stand against him very well.


I had my chance to find out how well I could stand against
Tom about two weeks later.  It was the week before our first
competitive match.  We would be wrestling the school in
Tulsa that had the longest winning streak in wrestling.
They played lousy football, always ending the season at the
bottom of their league.  Wrestling was a different matter,
though.  They had the best development program in eastern
Oklahoma, with many boys starting to wrestling while still
in primary school.  Tom and I had both been chosen to
represent our weights in that match.  Coach said he had high
hopes we could beat the west side school.

In preparation for our big match, coach decided on wrestling
marathons every day that we had practice.  For this event,
one of the boys who would compete was chosen to wrestle
everyone of the other competitors, regardless of weight
class, starting with the weight immediately above him.
Those two would wrestle until one beat the other.  Then the
next weight representative would take on the winner of that
match.

My turn at the marathon came up.  There were two weight
classes between Tom and me.  Tom would be my third opponent
if I won the other two matches.  The first match was fairly
easy to win.  The kid who would wrestle at that weight was
skilled but he didn't have a lot of spark.  He used his
weight to wear down his opponent much more than he used the
skills we'd been taught.  His main sport was football and he
was one of Tom's cronies.

My second match was more difficult but I won.  My victory
had its price, however because by the time we had finished
our match, I felt like the proverbial wet wash cloth-all
wrung out.  Without giving me break, Coach sent in Tom.

Tom was another wrestler who used his weight to great
advantage.  The trouble was he had paid attention to skill
development.  He knew the moves and counter moves at least
as well as I did.  His weight and his skill and my fatigue
from the two earlier matches did not allow much promise of
me beating him.

I was able to get the first throw, however and forced Tom
onto his back much more quickly than he expected.  He'd been
pretty cocky about his eventual victory before the match.
The beginning minutes of the round shook him up a bit.
Unfortunately it had taken a lot of my strength to get him
down.  But I wanted to win more than anything.  I
desperately wanted to show this cock of the walk that there
were other people in the world besides him.

I have no idea where the strength came from but even when he
was able to reverse my hold, he couldn't get a pin.  I let
him ride me as long as I thought I could get away with it,
in order to rest.  Then when he thought he had me in a
position he would be able to pin me, a burst of energy
flowed through me.  We were gaining point for point.  When
the time for the match ended, we were tied.

Coach ordered overtime.  He wasn't going to let us end
without a clear victor.  We wrestled for another period and
our points were still tied.  At the end of the fifth period
we were still tied.  The noise in the wrestling room was
deafening.  Everyone was shouting for his favorite, cheering
and giving advice.  Coach was in his glory.  He'd never had
two boys go at it for so long without one coming out a
victor.

He ordered one more period.  It was now 6:00 in the evening.
Parents (mostly dads) were beginning to come in to pick up
those boys who had not reached driving age.  Even though
anyone could have left the practice by that point, no one
was willing to do so.  We wrestled a sixth period.  There
was still no victory for either of us.  Even counting riding
times, our score was tied.  We were both exhausted.  I was
especially so, but I knew I couldn't let Tom get the better
of me.  Coach called the match over and proudly held up both
of our arms to signal a tie.

I collapsed on the mat.  Tom looked down on me, held out a
hand and offered to help me get up.  I pulled him down on
the mat beside me.  For some perverted reason, Tom found
that to be terribly funny and began laughing and rocking his
body from side to side.  They say laughter is infectious and
I caught the virus.  We must have looked pretty foolish
lying on the mat laughing until we thought we'd puke.

The practice room emptied as we lay there laughing in our
exhaustion.  After a few minutes we were alone.  We grew
quiet but neither of us made a move to get up.  I wasn't
sure that I had the strength to stand and walk.

Fifteen minutes passed with us still lying there.  One of
Tom's cronies, a junior named Harry, walked out of the
locker room.  He was dressed but his hair was still wet from
his shower.

"Hey Tom, are you going home tonight or do you plan on
sleeping with the faggot?"

"Shut your mouth up, we'll leave when we're good and ready.
Go home if you want to.  Let us real men rest a minute."

Stricken by his friends words, Harry was crestfallen.
Cautiously he croaked, "That's OK, Tom.  Sorry about that
crack.  You know I can't go home until you're ready to drive
me.  I don't have my car today."  Even though Tom was only a
freshman, he was old enough to drive, having been held back
a couple of times in primary school.

"Then you can just wait."

Tom rolled over toward me.  "How about it Preacher Boy?  Are
you ready to get out of here?"
"Yeah, I think maybe I can get up now," I said without much
conviction.  Besides I couldn't figure this seeming change
in Tom's attitude toward me.  His use of his hated nickname
for me was said with a tint of respect.

Tom's buddy gave him a hand to get up.  Tom turned and
offered his assistance to me.  I took his hand and this time
allowed him to pull me to my feet.  Even though the shower
room was empty by the time we had stripped off our singlets,
grabbed soap and towel and walked into the steamy hole, Tom
took the showerhead right next to me.

"Preacher boy, you're not as big a wimp as I always thought
you were.  You really have your shit together on that
wrestling mat . . . "

"TTanks Tom, I kinda felt really good today.  I'm just sorry
I couldn't beat you."

"Hey, man.  I'm trying to give you a compliment.  I think
I'd like to get to be your friend . . . if you think that's
possible."

I looked at Tom trying to determine his level of
seriousness.  These are words I had never expected to hear
from him.  'Boy would JJ be surprised at this,' I thought.

"Yeah, Tom.  I think we could be friends."
"Cool, man.  Do you need a ride home?  I have plenty of room
in my car."

"I always walk home.  Dad hates the fact I'm trying to
become an athlete and refuses to either pick me up or let me
buy a car.   And I am pretty beat at this point . . . Yeah
I'd like a ride."

"Cool.  Shake your ass, man.  Let's get out of here."


Its strange how things were turning out.   I'd thought of
Tom as JJ's worst enemy and therefore mine.  To have him
even offer to give me a ride was just short of a miracle.
For me to accept made me feel I was betraying my brother.
For some reason the picture of God's angel wrestling Israel
flashed through my mind.  Maybe God had a plan after all.


The night of our first inter school competition finally
arrived.  Even though the west side school won the meet, Tom
and I both won our individual matches.  Two other guys on
our time won also.  After the match and everyone had
showered away the stink, Tom invited the whole team over to
his house.

"It's not a victory party tonight boys," he announced.  "But
I think a party is in store for us anyway."

Tom offered to take me and even said he'd drive me home
afterward, if I wanted him to.  I agreed a little too
quickly to suit me, but he and I had formed a bond of sorts.
I knew dad would get on my back about wasting my time with
sport whether I won, lost or drew or when I'd get home.  It
would be my first real party and I was ready for it.

When we arrived at Tom's house, there were no lights on
anywhere.

"My folks have gone out of town for the week end," he told
Harry and me.  "We have the whole house and two whole days
to party if we want to."

I wasn't sure a two day party was what I wanted, but I
certainly wasn't going to object; if nothing else it would
reduce the time I had to spend at home.

The three of us piled out of Tom's Camaro and walked to the
house.

Everyone was in a jolly mood.  (Coach would not have
approved of the party mood, especially since we had not won
the match.  But coach wasn't here and neither was any other
adult.)

'Man,' I thought, "Barry would have cats if he knew what I
was about to do.'

Compared to where I lived, this was a palace.  It had two
stories and stretched way into the back of the lot.  The lot
on which the house was built had to have been at least an
acre of land

It was a race to get inside. Typically, of teen age a party
in the seventies when parents weren't around there was lots
of beer and plenty of junk food.  Strangely enough, there
were no girls-only members of the team. Tom had chests full
of iced beer and there were piles of stuff to eat.  I
wondered at the time how he could have gotten hold of so
much beer.  We were, after all, under age.

No sooner did I get into the house than someone shoved a
beer into my hand.

"Drink up, Preacher Boy, there's plenty of this to go
around."

I'd never tasted beer but had heard that it was something
for which a person had to acquire a taste.  I loved it from
the first sip.  Except it wasn't a sip.  I chug a lugged the
beer as quickly as I could swallow.  I was pretty thirsty
after the match.  Three beers later, I was feeling no pain.
But I was working on my fourth bottle.

"Hey, go easy, Preacher Boy," Tom cautioned.  "This ain't no
grocery story beer.  It's the real stuff, bought at a liquor
store.  You need to go a little easy."

"TTanks Tom for watching out for me.  But I like this stuff
and I'm really thirsty . . .And I like it.  I've never had
beer before."

"All the more reason to go easy.  You're going to be really
drunk pretty fast."
Well, needless to say, I didn't go easy and I did get pretty
drunk.  'Just one more nail in dad's coffin,' I thought.
'He would have a heart attack if he could see me now.'

It didn't take long for me to discover I couldn't walk in a
straight line anymore.  People would talk to me, but I
couldn't hear them.  I could see their mouths move, but no
sound came out.  No one was in focus.  Just before I passed
out, I thought 'So this is what it means to be drunk.  I
like it.'

When I woke up, I couldn't quite figure out where I was.  I
tried to stand up.  Immediately my head felt that it was
going to split open.  It felt about three times its normal
size.  I fell back onto the sofa where I'd apparently slept
the night through.  It was still dark.  The only light in
the room was from the television set, displaying the test
pattern.  I knew it had to be late because all TV stations
in Tulsa signed off about mid-night.  I tried getting to my
feet again.  I had to piss and there was no time to waste.
I did stand and began to walk unsteadily across the room.

At that point I realized I didn't have any clothes on.  I
was naked.  I knew I had some clothes when I fell asleep (or
I guess I have to admit it.  I had passed out) but where
were they.  I saw a pair of Levi's lying on the chair.  I
pulled them on but they didn't fit.  I could have wrapped
the waist around me twice.

'These have to belong to Dew Drop.'

Dew Drop was our team's heavy weight.  He was a senior and
had never lost a match.  Actually all he had to do was get
on top of his opponent and the poor kid couldn't move.  Dew
Drop was huge.  I didn't want to get caught wearing his
clothes-especially without under wear.  I threw them back
onto the chair.  I had to find a bathroom.

I stumbled down the hall, found a closed door, opened it and
peered inside.  I'd found a bedroom.  Big bed in the center
of the room.  Four of my teammates were sprawled across the
bed-all naked.  I found two more bedrooms occupied by
members of the team, sprawled on the bed.  In one bedroom
there was one guy asleep on the rug.  Every one of the boys
was naked as the day they were born.  'Man what did I miss
last night?'

I finally found a bathroom.  One of the senior teammates was
passed out in the bathtub.  He was naked and displayed a
morning hard on.  Curled in one arm was a bottle that had
contained Scotch, at least that's what it said on the label.
The smell of his sweat mingled with the smell of beer and .
. . something, something else.  'My God, this room smells
like a public rest room.  I checked him to be sure he was
still breathing before turning to the stool and letting fly.

After relieving my bladder, I began to search for my
clothes.  I found a closed door I hadn't seen before.  I
opened it.  There was a night light on the bed table, giving
off a soft comforting glow.   It was another bedroom but in
this room there were only two boys-Tom and Harry.  They were
both naked and sleeping on top of the bedspread.  Harry had
his head on Tom's chest.  One of Harry's hands was wrapped
around Tom's very hard, very obvious, very erect cock.  I
was in shock-or I would have been if my head hadn't hurt so
much.  I quietly shut the door.

I couldn't find my clothes anywhere.  I was also terribly
thirsty-my mouth felt like spiders had been weaving their
webs all through it.  I spotted a bottle.  It still was
about half full of beer.  I drank it as quickly as possible.
It was warm, stale and had a funny smell to it, but it
helped clean out the spider webs.  Surprisingly the beer
eased my headache just a little.  I found two more half-full
bottles and drank them.  The headache was almost gone.

I made my way back to the sofa and lay down.  Sleep hit me
almost immediately.


I was having a very good dream.  Someplace in the dream JJ
had put lotion on his hand and was slowly jacking me off.  A
very pleasant feeling.  I shifted in my sleep and felt a
slight tug on my groin.  I opened my eyes-just barely.  The
headache had not returned.  It was still dark in the room,
except for the test pattern on the TV.  There was something
warm and moist wrapped around my cock.

My eyes popped open-it hadn't been a dream, at least not
just a dream.  There was a head covered in black hair
bobbing up and down on my dick.  I couldn't see who it was
servicing me, but I sure didn't want him to stop, whoever it
was.  A disconnected hand rose to my chest.  Fingers stroked
and then pinched my nipples.

Apparently the boy had been sucking me for a while because
as he squeezed my nip, digging a fingernail into the flesh,
I let go with a flood of cum.

"AAAH.  I'M CUMMING.  MAN, I AM CUMMING."

I shot several good loads of cum into the boy's mouth, my
body convulsing, forcing my meat deeper into his mouth.
After a couple of minutes, my body was empty.  My breathing
slowed and I entered a state of post-coital bliss.  With a
final good suck and lick of my cock, the boy's mouth pulled
away.  He turned his face toward me.  He smiled.  There was
a dribble of cum in the corner of his mouth.

"TOM!  What the fuck man?  What were you doing?  OH SHIT!
MAN.  What did you just do?"  The idea of Tom swinging on my
cock like a faggot was so far from what I expected.  I
couldn't believe what I was seeing.  What was he trying to
do?  The thought that he might punch on me following the
blowjob crossed my mind.

"Did you like that Preacher Boy?  You like waking up with a
cock sucker hanging on your dick?"

"Oh, Jesus Tom.  What . . .?

"Shhhh, quiet, man.  I just finished what we started last
night.  Did you like it?"
"Tom? . . . Tom . . . I don't understand.  Since when are
you a cocksucker?"

"Since forever, man.  I love nothing better than sucking a
jock cock.  It's a reward for winning your match last night.
All the winners get a good blowjob from old Tom here."

"Oh, shit.  I . . . I don't believe this!"

"What don't you believe?  You think that brother of yours is
the only faggot in the
world?"

"No, I don't believe how badly I need to piss."

Tom laughed.  "Don't worry about it.  Just hold on.  The
toilet is on his way . . . WHERE'S TANK?  WE GOT A PISSER
HERE THAT NEEDS TO GO.  HE NEEDS TO GO NOW!"

"I'm coming, Tom."

There was the sound of bare feet slapping wood floor as
Tank; our lightest wrestler came into the room.  Now Tank
was a senior.  He was one of the four of us who had won
matches the night before.  He was naked as he came in.
Though small, Tank probably didn't weigh a hundred pounds,
his body was beautifully cut.  His muscles rippled as he
moved.

I started to stand up, but Tom had gone around to the back
of the sofa and had his arms around my neck, hands resting
on my chest.  His fingers were stroking my nipples.  Tom
pushed me back onto the sofa.

"Don't move, P Boy.  Let Tank take care of you."

I had no idea what Tom meant until Tank knelt at my feet.
He spread my legs apart, moved into me and placed his mouth
around my dick.

"That's it, P Boy.  Piss in his mouth.  Ol' Tank loves jock
piss.  It's all a part of being a team."

I was surprised.  I was shocked.  I was disgusted.  I HAD TO
PISS!  Tom was playing with my chest and nipples, causing me
to relax a little.  It was a little like running water
causing someone to relax so he can pee.  Slowly my bladder
let go.  I was pissing into a boy's mouth!  What's more, he
was drinking it.  Not even a dribble escaped Tank's lips as
my urine flow increased.  His throat muscles worked overtime
as he swallowed the gift from my bladder.

When I finished, Tank swiped his tongue around the end of my
cock, cleaning me of any drops that might remain.  Slowly he
pulled off me, looked into my face and gave me a very
satisfied smile.
"I do love to drink recycled beer, man.  Thanks."

Tank stood back up and left the room.  The sun was shining
through the windows of the house.


Over the next couple of hours, the boys began to leave.
They were showered, hair combed and dressed.  I hadn't even
been able to find my clothes!  But I had showered.  Tom had
begun cleaning up the mess from the party.  In spite of the
chilly weather, all the windows and doors were open to help
air out the house.  Tom, like me, had not yet put on his
clothes.  I started to help him pick up the trash.

"P Boy, you don't have to do this.  Picking up after these
slobs is the price a host has to pay for having a party.
Did you enjoy yourself?"

"I enjoyed the parts I can remember.  But there's still a
lot of stuff I don't remember."

"Yeah, I was afraid of that.  You drank way too much, way
too fast.  You did things last night I never expected out of
you.  You sinned last night, man.  You really sinned!"

"What did I do?"

"Just having a good time.  Just what happens to bring a team
together.  You were the first one naked.  You just stood up
in the middle of the room and started doing a strip tease.
Man, you should go professional-if you were a girl.  You'd
make a bundle of money.  Then you started dancing with every
boy in the room.  Next thing I knew we were all naked.  And
you were sitting on Dew Drop's lap giving him a lap dance.
You had that poor fat boy jiggling from his head to his
toes.  He must have shot a gallon of cum before you were
through with him.  It was so funny.  Then you passed out."

"Tom, do you have any idea where my clothes are?  I can't
find my jeans, shirt-not even my shoes!"

"Oh we'll find them around here someplace.  I guess I can't
take you home until we do though, can I?"

"No, I don't think that would go over very well.  Not that I
care a shit about what dad thinks, at least he's still
letting me stay there."

We were working together to pick up stuff.  This house was
totally trashed.  When we finished the living areas, we
headed for the bedrooms.  There were dirty sheets spilled
everywhere.

"I'll have to wash all this shit.  That'll take some time.
Otherwise we can make the beds from sheets in the closets."

"I'm willing to help as much as I can, Tom."

"Thanks, man.  I appreciate that."

"No problem."

We worked together putting fresh linens on the beds.  A
little after noon, the house looked pretty good.  It still
smelled like a locker room, but even the stale smell in the
air was becoming less noticeable.  I still hadn't found my
clothes.

Tom went to the kitchen and fixed us each a peanut butter
and jelly sandwich and a glass of milk.  We sat at the
kitchen table, eating.

"How's that faggot brother of yours doing, P Boy?  Do you
ever hear anything from him?"

"We write sometimes."

"Where is he, anyway?"
"In Texas.  Dad sent him to a school run by retired Marines.
It sounds like a hell hole, but JJ seems to like it there .
. . Tom?"

"Yeah?"

"What happened that day in the shower room-between you and
JJ?  He said you called him a faggot and threatened to rip
his balls off if you ever caught him looking at you.  From
what I experienced this morning, that's kind of the pot
calling the kettle black."

"I knew JJ was a fag.  I can tell by just being around a guy
for a while.  And I wanted him, wanted him bad.  He's a
pretty hot number, you know-of course he's not as hot as you
are."

"Then why did you pick on him?  He told me the night before
that incident about a fantasy in which he sucked your cock.
Then you jumped him and he blamed me for squealing on him.
When I got home from school, I thought he was going to kill
me."

"It's simple, P Boy, JJ's not a jock.  He's pretty good at
games in P. E. but he wasn't on a team."

"That's being pretty prejudiced, isn't it.  Do you only suck
jock dick?"

"Jock dick is the only safe dick to suck.  A jock's got to
keep his reputation.  You suck a jock's cock and he's not
going to spread it around that you're queer.  It would kill
his reputation along with yours.  I wanted to test JJ.  See
if he could take the ribbing.  I wanted him to join our
b'ball team.  Even if he wasn't good at it, which he was, if
he joined the team, he could be trusted.  We could have
these parties and I could have his dick in my mouth without
having to be afraid he'd spread it around.  I didn't want to
scare him away but after that I never saw him again.  I hope
to heaven that what I did wasn't why he disappeared."

"Then every boy that was here this morning is queer?"

"No not all of them but they know if they tell what happens
at these parties then the whole team would be on them.  See?
It's a question of saving your reputation . . . and
sometimes saving your skin.  Besides even the boys who
aren't queer like getting off and most of them don't care
what hole they get off in.  You know the best blowjobs come
from another guy."

I sat there just staring at this handsome stud.  I could
feel my dick starting to get hard all over again.  I
couldn't think of anything to answer his logic or lack of
it.

"See, P Boy, I didn't really want to hurt JJ.  I wanted to
have his bod."

We both laughed.  I wasn't sure how sincere my laugh was or
what I was laughing at.


We never did find my clothes.  Tom theorized that someone
had taken my jeans and shirt to huff when he beat his meat.
I didn't buy that idea, but couldn't come up with any thing
else.  About three o'clock, Tom loaned me some of his
clothes and drove me home.


Tom and I became best friends and stayed that way for the
four years in high school.  Harry, with whom Tom had slept
the night of the party, became our third wheel.  He didn't
seem to mind my presence when he was with Tom.  In fact,
when Tom wasn't available to do something, it became just
Harry and me.


In our junior year, JJ's mom died.  Dad refused to send him
any money to come to the funeral or to visit his mom while
she was sick.  Just one more reason I hated my father.  How
I felt about my dad had become a non-issue, however.  We had
practically nothing to do with each other-except for
occupying the same house.  I'd given him every reason to
kick me out, but he was determined not to.  Why, I'll never
know.  He spent all of his free time at his church.  I spent
my time at school or with the team.  Actually I spent as
much time as I could with Tom.  I don't think love ever
entered our idea of our relationship.  We were friends.
Sometimes we had hot, heavy sex.  Otherwise we just hung
out.

The end of our junior year, Tom and I began to send out
applications for college and, hopefully, scholarships to pay
for them.  We both had college scouts check us out for
athletics.  But Tom's grades were never very good-even with
me tutoring him in his harder subjects.
I ended up getting several offers.  I decided I'd accept the
offer that came from the school that was the farthest away
from Tulsa and dad.


Our choices for college were made by the time we graduated.
I was going to UCLA on a wrestling scholarship.  Tom
received only one decent offer-mostly because of his poor
grades.  Several schools wanted his athletic ability, but
couldn't take the chance he'd flunk out.   His offer was for
Oklahoma State, which was nationally known for its wrestling
program, especially after several wrestlers ended up on the
U. S. Olympics Team.  Tom was happy to get that.

Graduation came and my last summer with dad began.  I'd put
up with him for four years and believed I could survive
three more months.  Then, off to California.  It seemed life
couldn't be any better.