Date: Tue, 21 Mar 2000 10:15:07 -0500
From: SoQueer <soqueer@hotmail.com>
Subject: A Year in the Life, Chapters 4 & 5

This is a work of fiction (Wink-Wink). The names have been changed to
protect the innocent (Nudge-Nudge). As always, this story is intended for
an adult audience interested in Gay erotic literature. If you are not of
legal age--that's eighteen in the US--or are offended by depictions of
homosexuality or what homosexuals do when you're not around, then I
strongly suggest that you find another place to surf. Offence ain't given
if it ain't taken.  This story remains the property of the author and may
not be reprinted or reposted in part or in whole without my permission.
The poem in this posting appears with the permission of the author.  If
you'd like to contact me, email me at soqueer@hotmail.com or
soqueer@exite.com .  Warning: I answer email.  If you do not want to
receive a reply, please say so in your email.

Love and a wet kiss,
Andy Deyo (SoQueer).
OK Guys!  This is the posting with the sex in it.
A Year in the Life
Chapter Four

     I was on restriction again.  But then, what was new about that?  It
seemed like all I had to do to get into trouble was walk into a room.  It
was just as well, though.  Beth was at her grandparents in Indiana.  Julie
and her family were in the Bahamas until after Christmas.  The weather the
first three days of Christmas vacation had been miserably wet and cold, so
I was stuck indoors most of the time, anyway.  Still, too much time on your
hands is not a good thing.
      I stared down at the pad lying in my lap.  I read the words over and
over, not sure if they said what I wanted:

     The memory of a touch, soft
     yet, not soft
     lingering upon the flesh
     yet deeper.
     The burning throes of desire
     shared within
     but outward too, like snow
     within without
     the rain clouds, darkly
     reminding the soul of that one
     touch, soft
     yet not soft;
     there,
     but not there, soft
     yet not soft.

     I tore the page out of the pad, wadded it up, and threw it at the
wastepaper basket.  I couldn't stop thinking about Paul.  I wanted to call
him, but I had no idea what I should say to him.  We'd spent a lot of time
with each other over the last year, but it was always with Beth and Julie
along.  I didn't begin to know how to ask him out alone.  Hell, I didn't
even know if he'd WANT to go out with just me.
     I heard a soft knock at my door.  "Come in," I yelled, and my brother,
Todd, stuck his head in the room.
     "Wassup, Lil' Bro?"  He asked.
     "Just pissing some time away," I answered.  "Come on in."
     He came in and sat down next to me on the bed.  "So how goes things
with my favorite little brother?"
     Todd was a Junior at the University of Georgia.  He and I were close.
Todd had been more of a father to me than my old man had ever hoped to be.
He'd taught me to ride a bike, to swim, to hunt, to fish, and how to play
baseball.  He bought me my first BB gun.  He taught me how to break down a
car engine and put it back together again.  In the process, he taught me
about life.  I couldn't bring myself to tell him what was bothering me.
"One, I'm your only brother, two, I'm as tall as you are, and three, how do
I know I wasn't adopted?," I said.
     "Seriously, how are things?"
     "Fine," I lied.  "I'm doing fine."
     "You don't sound fine," he replied.  I shrugged my shoulders.  He laid
back and put his head on the pillow next to me.  "Is Dad giving you a hard
time?"
     "Of course.  I committed the unpardonable sin."
     "What was that?"  He asked in a somewhat disinterested voice.
     "I'm not you."  It had slipped out before I realized what I'd said.
     Todd rolled over and looked at me.  I'd never noticed how good-looking
my brother was before.  It figures.  Not only was Todd a much celebrated
UGA quarterback, he was a straight "A" student, and he had the body and
face of Apollo.  He was as different from me as he could be.  "Mark," he
said softly, "that's bullshit, and you know it. You're a terrific guy in
your own right, and you don't need to waste your time trying to follow in
my footsteps.  Just concentrate on being yourself.  Don't let Dad play
those head games on you.  You've got to blaze your own trails.  Dad'll just
have to catch up in his own good time."
     "I know," I said.  "It just gets to be too much sometimes.  Everybody
seems to have an agenda laid out for me these days."
     "How so?"
     "It's like I don't have any control over anything.  Everybody's always
telling me what to do.  No matter what I decide, it's like it's all planned
out for me before I start."  I wanted to tell him what was really bothering
me, but I was seized with the fear that he might turn on me.  It was one
thing to face my father's derision, but I couldn't bare the thought of Todd
hating me.  "I'd just like something to go my way for once."
     "What about you and Beth?  How're things going between you two?"
     I felt the grimace hit my face before I could stop it.  "I don't think
we'll be together much longer."
     "Ah!  Why not?  What happened?"
     I felt my stomach tightened.  How could I tell him?  I looked down at
the pad lying in my lap as if the blank page would suddenly sprout the
words I needed.
     "You two-uh-getting intimate?" he asked me.
     "That's the problem.  It's all she wants to do."  There!  I'd broken
the ice.
     "And you don't want to . . . "
     "Fuck all night long?" I interjected, finishing his sentence.  "No.  I
don't.  I want the old Beth back, the one I used to pal around with.  I
don't know this girl.  I don't even know if I WANT to know her."
     "Have you said anything to her about this?"
     "She thinks there's something wrong with me."  One step closer, I told
myself.  One part of me wanted to spill it all out of my guts, but I was
terrified of Todd's reaction.  How could I tell him I wanted to dump the
"Perfect Girl" for a guy?
     Todd looked straight ahead.  "Is there?"
     "I-I don't know."  Done!  I'd crossed the line without saying too
much.  I didn't have to say anything about The Perv or the dreams or the
way Paul's ass moves when he walks.  Even so, I could ear a voice deep
within me whispering, "Chicken Shit!"
     "There's no substitute for companionship, is there?"  He asked me.
Todd reached over and put an arm around me.  I always felt safe around
Todd.  He was the kind of big brother every guy wishes they had.  Todd was
my best friend.  "Girls think just because we walk around half the day with
a boner in our pants that all we want to do is jump in the sack.  That
might be true during the half a day when we're sporting a boner," he said
with a light chuckle, "but most guys want more than that.  Highschool
romances don't usually last, anyway.  If things don't work out between you
and Beth, someone else'll come along.  You'll wonder what you ever saw in
her.  Just give it some time."
     "OK."  I didn't have the heart to tell him that 'someone' had already
showed up on the scene.
     "So much for your problem," Todd said with a sigh.  "Now you can help
me with mine."
     "Sure," I said sitting up.  "What's up?"
     "Janice is pregnant."  Todd reached up and closed my jaw.  "You
shouldn't do that.  It's impolite."
     "What are you going to do?"
     "What else could I do?  We got married last week."
     "What about an abortion?"
     Todd gave me a funny look.  "That's my child you're talking about,
Mark.  I can't ask her to do that."
     "Have you told Mom and Dad?"
     "Are you kidding?  Dad would shit a brick and then offer to feed it to
me!"  Todd sat up and dropped his head into his hands for a moment and then
straightened himself up.  "It's kind of silly, y'know, but I'm looking
forward to being a father."
     I patted him on the back.  "This means I'll be an uncle!  You going to
name him after me, right?"
     Todd raised an eyebrow.  "Now there's a thought!  Dipshit Day has a
nice ring to it!"
     "Not if it's a girl," I shot back.  I didn't see the pillow flying
toward me until it was too late.
     I was asleep, at least, that's what I kept telling myself.  I heard
the laugh come out of my mouth.  I looked straight at the telephone pole
and punched the gas.  I heard him yell no.  'Him who?'  I asked myself.  It
was all over so fast.  Everything shifted, and I was looking down at myself
asleep on the bed.  The guy standing there was so like me and yet, he
wasn't me, this other self.  I heard sobs in the background, but I couldn't
tell who was crying or why.  The other me was here now.  He sat down on the
bed and touched my face.  I felt my body stir, but I couldn't wake up.  He
knew I felt him there.  He looked around the room.  "So this is where I
live now," he said.  He looked back at me and leaned close to my ear.  In a
soft whisper he said, "I'm glad I found you.  I'll help you find him.  He's
everything you need.  Trust me."
     I awoke with a start.  My body was drenched in sweat, but the room was
ice-cold.  I felt shivers run all over my body.  My thoughts were locked on
the dream.  "What is happening to me?"  I asked aloud.
     I looked at the clock.  It was just after midnight on the morning of
the 24th.  My mind was locked on the image of the telephone pole heading
straight for me and my foot pressing as hard as it could against the gas
pedal.  I felt my body shake all over.  I started to cry.  I bit my pillow
to muffle the sobs that kept running through me.  I didn't even know why I
was crying.  I ran the dream over in my mind trying to make sense out of
it.  And then I remembered the voice crying out, "NO!"  Who's voice?  What
had I done?  Was this my future?  I'd had prescient dreams before.  They'd
always come true.  Always!  I felt another shudder rising up inside me.
I'd never been so scared in my life.
     I stood up and walked to the window.  It was pouring rain again.  I
leaned my face against the cool windowpane.  Silent tears dripped down my
cheeks.
     "Something's got to give," I whispered.  "I've got to know.  I can't
go to my grave always wondering what might have been.  I've got to know."

     Two days after Christmas I decided to make my move.  Todd's present
for me was a handful of joints, and I hoped it would give me the lead-in I
needed to get Paul alone.  Beth hated getting high, so I'd never brought up
the subject around Paul.  I felt sure, though, that if I could just get him
to loosen up a little, something would happen.
     I called his house early that afternoon.  To my delight, Paul not only
took me up on the offer to get high, but he was home alone and wanted me to
come over as soon as I could.  I told my mother I was headed over to his
house and left before she could say anything.  It took me about ten minutes
to walk across town to his house.  The brisk air and exercise coupled with
the thought of being alone with Paul had me fairly excited by the time I
reached his house.
     I rang the doorbell and waited for Paul to open the door.  I was
suddenly aware of how cold I was, and then I realized I had left the house
so fast I hadn't put on a jacket.  I rang the doorbell again.
     "Damn, Man," he said impatiently when he opened the door, "You been
sampling that stuff already?"
     "It's cold out here," I answered.  "Let me in."  Paul stepped aside
and let me in.  The house was like an oven, and the warm air felt good
against my cold skin.  Paul was wearing a pair of shorts and a T-shirt and
no shoes.  Some Life, I thought.  My mother would have griped for a month.
Paul headed into the den and plopped down on the sofa.  I took the place
beside him.  "So how was Christmas," I asked.
     "I got socks," he answered.  "You know you're not a kid anymore when
they start giving you socks."
     "I know what you mean," I answered.  "Why can't they just give us
money?"
     "Or a little weed?"
     I gave him a wicked little grin and pulled out a joint.  I'd brought
three with me just in case.  "Or a little weed."
     "Oh wow.  Merry Christmas!"
     "Merry Christmas."  I said as I lit it up.  I took the rich smoke in
my lungs and let the lightness spread through me.  I got an instant buzz.
This was a hell of a lot better than what I was used to.  I passed the
joint to Paul.  "Here."
     Paul took the joint from my hand.  Our fingertips brushed against each
other in the process.  I felt a thrill pass though me totally unconnected
with the joint we were smoking.  Paul and I passed the joint back and forth
several times, and soon we had smoked most of it.
     "Shit, Man!  What's in this?"  He exclaimed.  "I'm righteously fucked
up!"
     "Just weed," I answered.  "It is good though, ain't it?"  I later
learned that some of the joints my brother gave me including the one I
fired up at Paul's were laced with hash oil.  What a pal!
     I was still cold from my walk over.  Paul was warm, and I slowly
nuzzled up close to him just to get a little of his warmth.  Paul seemed
unconcerned at how close we were sitting.  I kept edging my way toward him
until our legs and shoulders were almost touching.
     "If I didn't know better, Man, I'd think you were trying to put the
move on me."
     "Wishful thinking!"  I shot back.  "You'd like that, wouldn't you?"
The truth was, I really hadn't meant it that way.  I was just cold.  Still,
Paul's joke reminded me why I was there. . .
     "I'm not queer," he said flatly.  "Hey!  You want a coke?"
     I'd rather have your cock, I thought.  "Sure."
     "Great!  While you're up, get me one, too!"  He said with a laugh.
     I got up and went into the kitchen.  Paul's house was very modern, and
I found the cokes in the fridge easily enough.  I picked up a bag of
cookies that was lying out on the counter and took them back to the den
with the cokes.  "Here!"  I said, handing him his coke.  I tossed the bag
in his lap.  "Hope you don't mind.  I've got the munchies!"
     I sat down next to him, and this time, our bodies made contact.  I
reached over into the bag and dug around in an extended search for a
cookie.  Paul blushed.  Bingo!  I thought.  This ought to do it.
     "You, uh, heard from the girls?"  He asked nervously.
     "Not a word," I answered, and I reached in for another cookie.  "You?"
     "Nope."
     "Have a cookie," I told him.  "They're great."
     Paul reached in and quickly pulled out a cookie.  I reached in and dug
around again.  Each time I stuck my hand in I went a little deeper.  The
fourth or fifth time I reached for a cookie Paul spread his legs a little.
I noticed that the next time he reached in the bag his own hand seemed to
be digging around a little, too, almost as if he were rearranging something
underneath. . .
     Being so close to Paul and touching his crotch through the bag was
heating me up fast.  I felt a trickle of sweat roll down the small of my
back.  "It's hot in here," I said, and I pealed off my shirt.
     Paul sat motionless.  Our bare arms brushed against each other with
each breath, and his skin felt soft and warm.  His body was giving off the
most amazing aroma, and I wanted to smell every inch of him.
     I reached over and dug around in the bag again.  This time there was a
definite hardness underneath the bag.  I spread my fingers and traced along
either side of the stiffness.  I pulled out a cookie and popped it in my
mouth.  "Great cookies, huh?"  I asked him.
     Paul swallowed hard.  "I-uh-yeah.  I guess."  He took a long drink of
his soda to wash the dryness out of his mouth.  I reached in and gave him
another stroke through the bag.  "I-we-Don't do that!" he said.
     "Don't do what?"  I asked innocently as I munched on another cookie.
I reached in and grabbed another one.
     "That!"
     "Oh!  You want the cookies for yourself!"
     Paul blushed.  I reached over and grabbed the bag.  Paul tried to grab
it back, but he was too late.  "Look's like you have a problem, there, my
friend."
     "I-I'm not queer."  His tone was unconvincing.
     "I never said you were."  I looked down at my own bulge.  Paul
followed my gaze.  "Looks like I've got the same problem, though, huh?"
     Paul stared at the bulge between my legs.  I could see obvious
movement in his crotch as his own cock tried to push its way free from its
confinement.  I was tempted to reach over and give it a squeeze, but I was
afraid that Paul would bolt and run.  Instead, I reached down and squeezed
my own crotch.  "Damn!"  I said.  "That weed sure does make a guy horny."
     Paul sat spellbound.  His hand trembled as if he were fighting the
urge to reach over and touch the lump in my jeans for himself.  I undid the
button on my pants and slipped the zipper down.
     "What are you doing?"  His voice was dry and raspy.
     "It hurts," I answered.  "I'm just getting it so it's not so
confined."
     Paul looked away.  He tried looking straight ahead, and then he looked
at the ceiling for a while.  His eyes went to every corner of the room, but
eventually, his gaze returned to the cock-filled briefs bulging up out of
the front of my pants.  I reached in and scratched my shaft through the
cotton cloth.  The sound of my nails dragging across the material filled
the room.  Paul swallowed hard.  The sights and sounds of my actions were
obviously getting to him.  His face was flushed deep red, and the swelling
in his pants looked even larger than before.
     I reached down and pulled the elastic band of my underwear down far
enough for my cock head to pop out.  It was glistening with pre-cum.
"That's better," I said.
     Paul's mouth was moving, but no sounds came out.  He didn't seem to
know what to do.  He jumped up suddenly and went into the kitchen.
     Damn!  I said to myself.  I went too fast.  I stood up, fastened my
pants and then followed Paul into the kitchen.  He was standing at the sink
with his back to me.  "I'm sorry," I said.  "I guess I got carried away
with the joke.  Pretty bad taste, huh?"
     "I'M NOT QUEER!"  He exclaimed.
     I walked over to him and put my hand on his shoulder.  "I never said
you were, Paul." He shrugged my hand from his shoulder.  "I don't think of
you that way."
     Paul turned around and looked at me.  His eyes were wild.  He pushed
me hard against the wall.  "I'm not QUEER!"
     "I didn't say you were."
     "I'm not queer!"  He said in a softer voice.  He was standing so
close.  Our eyes were locked on each other.  His hand stayed on my bare
chest.  I could feel my nipples hardening under his warm hands.
     "I didn't say you were."  I replied in a voice just above a whisper.
His lower lip quivered.
     "I'm not queer," he said again, and he kissed me.  It was just a peck
on the lips, but it might as well have been a back-bending french-kiss!  I
was completely caught off guard.
     "I'm not queer," he whispered, and he kissed me again, this time he
kept his lips pressed to mine a little longer.  His hips ground into mine,
our erections raging against each other.
     "I never said you were," I said in a horse voice, and I wrapped my
arms around him.  I pulled him tight against me and kissed him again.  Paul
started grinding his hips into mine, and the sensation was driving me
insane.  I started moving up and down in unison with him as he humped
against me.
     "I'm not queer," he said in a shaking voice when I'd pulled back.
     I spun us both around and pinned him against the wall.  "You don't
have to be."  I said.  "I'll be queer enough for both of us."
     I pressed my mouth against his.  I forced my tongue between his teeth,
and began exploring his mouth.  Paul just stood there, his body trembling
against mine.  I continued to grind my hard-on against his.  The fabric of
our clothing made odd rasping noises with each movement.  Paul's tongue
grew bolder, and soon he was kissing me furiously.
     I reached between us and undid his pants.  I ran my hands along the
waistband of his shorts and started pushing them to the floor.
     Paul pulled back.  "What are you doing?"
     "I'm getting these clothes out of our way."  I answered as I pulled
his sweatshirt over his head.
     "I-don't-please-I..."
     "You don't have to do anything you don't want to do," I told him.  I
pushed his pants the rest of the way down and gazed at his body.  I reached
out and ran my fingertips across his chest and slowly down his abdomen.
Paul closed his eyes, and his whole body shuddered.  I wrapped my arms
around his nakedness and pulled him into another kiss.  My hands dropped to
his ass and pulled his naked crotch against mine.
     Paul started thrusting harder and harder against me.  Little moans and
whimpers escaped from him with each lunge.  Our hard-ons hammered into each
other's pubes, and sweet sweat dripped from our bodies.  I ran a hand up to
his chest and started squeezing and rubbing his nipples.  Paul tossed his
head back and let out a gasp.
     I pulled back.  I walked over to the door and then said over my
shoulder, "You coming?"
     Paul followed me to his room and closed the door behind him.  I sat
down on the bed and motioned for him to come to me.  He hesitated for a
moment, but the throbbing need pointing out from his crotch won out.  He
slowly ambled over to me, his hard-on waving back and forth like a
metronome.  I brushed my hands over the hair on his legs.  I let my hands
explore him from his calves to his crotch, and then I started all over
again.  I delighted myself in the feel of him--in all the hair covering his
lower body and in the strength of the muscles underneath.  Paul's cock
danced and throbbed in front of me.  I reached up and grabbed his ass.  I
rubbed and squeezed his firm, muscular cheeks and let my fingertips explore
the warm, moist depths of his crack.  I pulled him to me and stuck my nose
in his pubes.  His smell was intoxicating.
     I slid back on the bed and pulled Paul on top of me.  I held his face
in my hands and pulled his lips to mine.  Paul's tongue immediately shot
into my mouth, and his hands started running all over me.  He rolled over
on his back and pulled me over on top of him.  I lay between his spread
legs, our cocks pressed hard against each other.  Paul moaned and thrust up
against me.  I followed his example and thrust down.  The feeling was
exquisite.  I bucked against him, my cock demanding more and more with each
thrust.
     Paul broke free of the kiss and took one of my earlobes in his mouth.
He bit and chewed on it, sending me into orbit.  My hands went wild.  I
grabbed his tits and started pinching and squeezing his nipples.  He bit
down softly on my ear, and this time I was the one who moaned.
     I sat up on my haunches.  I reached down and ran my hands down Paul's
harry legs.  I grabbed his ankles and pulled them up and over my shoulders.
A puzzled look passed across his face.  "Relax," I said.  "I'll go slow."
     "Mark, I-I don't think I can . . . "
     "Just relax!"  I pushed forward until the head of my cock touched his
ass.  It bounced and danced with an excitement all its own.  I let it lay
there for a few seconds and fought down the urge to shoot my wad across
those beautiful cheeks.  Once some of the fire had died down, I pushed
forward.  Paul groaned and tossed his head from side to side.  It was
obviously painful, but he made no move to stop me.  Slowly, I pressed
against his opening.  Inch by inch I forced my way inside him until my cock
was buried up to the hilt.
     I looked down at Paul.  He gave me a little nod to let me know he was
all right.  I ran my hands down his legs to his crotch and started playing
with his cock as I slowly pulled my cock back.
      Paul's eyes were locked on mine.  "Do it," he said hoarsely.
     That was all the encouragement I needed.  I thrust my way back inside
him.  Again I pulled back and again I thrust into him.  I pounded against
him.  Paul spread his legs slightly and tried to take even more of my
hard-on up inside himself.  leaned over him so that only my feet and my
hands touched the bed.  Paul wrapped his legs around me as I bucked against
him.  The feel of the hair on his legs against my naked ass drove me on
with a vicious passion.  I forced myself against him.  I was thrusting
against him so hard that Paul's head was banging against the headboard.  We
were both groaning from the fire burning inside us.
     "Oh damn!"  He yelled.  "Fuck me.  Oh Please!  Fuck me!"  Paul wrapped
his hand around his cock and started pumping furiously.  His head was
rocking back and forth, and his chest and shoulders were red with fevered
passion.
     It was too much.  I could feel the cum boiling inside my balls.  Every
nerve in my body was ready for me to explode inside Paul's ass.  I stood up
on my knees and held Paul in a nearly upside down position.  I pounded my
dick into him relentlessly.  I pulled his legs apart and thrust as deeply
into him as I could.  Paul let out a yell and shot off all over himself.  I
plunged into him one last time and emptied my load inside his tight, hot
hole.  Every muscle in our bodies quivered against each other as we sank
into a kiss . . .
     I opened my eyes and stared at the ceiling while listening to the
blood rushing in my ears.  I tried to empty my mind so that I could etch
every detail of the moment into my memory.  I studied the play of light
across the ceiling as I took in each smell of Paul's room.  I studied the
feel of the damp sheets under my back, and I listened carefully to the
sounds of Paul's slow, steady breathing.
     I sat up and through my legs off the bed.  I turned and looked at
Paul's sleeping face.  He looked so young so childlike lying there.  His
expression held a calmness in sleep that I'd never seen in him while he was
awake.  Was because while he slept he didn't have to think about what had
just happened, I asked myself, or was it because of what had just happened
that he slept so peacefully?  I couldn't tell.
     I stood up slowly so as not to wake him.  I walked naked to the
kitchen and got dressed.  I picked up his clothes and held them next to me
for several minutes. Standing there in his kitchen holding his underwear in
my hands, the thought hit me that Paul might resist ever having any further
contact with me.  I upset his world.  Everything about me called his
sexuality into question.  I made him feel 'queer'.
     I walked back to Paul's room and laid out his clothes on the bed next
to him.  Standing there and looking down at him in all his naked glory, I
saw Paul for what he was: A friend.  He was not, nor would he ever be, the
great love of my life.  Still, in many ways what had happened between us
reflected what had come to constitute a deep need in me.  The lust he'd
stirred in me was no passing phase, and contrary to what I'd told myself
over and over, it really had nothing to do with Paul.  He was just the
symptom.  The root cause was my own need for the touch of another guy.
What had happened between us was not love it was sex.  I saw it in a flash
the key to understanding all the confusion I'd felt for the last six
months.  I saw with blinding clarity why Paul felt it so necessary to
repeatedly deny he was queer.  Paul saw in me what I had refused for so
long to see: I am gay.
     "Sleep well, Beautiful," I whispered softly. " Dream of me."  And I
left his house.
     The wind had stopped blowing, and the afternoon sun felt warm against
my skin.  I walked as hard as I could, trying desperately not to let any
thoughts or theories creep across my mind.  I tried to fight the need to
think it all through.  I tried not to dwell on the obvious.  I tried and I
failed.  Each step demanded I face up to it.  I turned corners and walked
past house after house without seeing anything.  I was confronted with the
reality of what I was, and the more I saw the harder I tried to walk away
from it all.  The harder I walked, though, the more the Truth confronted
me.
     I looked up.  I was standing in front of the old elementary school.  I
had no idea how long I'd been standing there.  I went around back and
crawled through the hole in the wall that I'd used a dozen times before to
slip inside.  I walked the abandoned halls and reminisced about my
childhood.  I could see the faces from the past and hear their voices
echoing through the empty halls.  In my old first grade classroom a faded
portrait of George Washington still hung on the wall in its place of honor.
To my amusement, the eyes in the portrait still followed me around the
room, just as it had some ten years earlier.  So much of my personality had
been shaped in those rooms.  So many of the dreams and visions I'd held for
my future took shape as I sat staring out the windows of that tired, old
building as its teachers droned on.
     I stood in the sunshine that streamed through the tall windows.  I
looked down at my hands.  They were as empty as my soul.  I could no more
recapture those old dreams than I could snatch the sunshine falling on my
hands.
     "Why did you do this to me?"  I screamed at all the old ghosts.  "Why
did you let this happen?"  I sank to my knees as the tears started to flow.
     And flow.
     And flow.  A Year in the Life Chapter 5
     January 2 was as warm as Christmas had been cold.  Winter in South
Georgia is like that.  First it's warm, then it rains, and then it turns
cold.  I sat in the car beside Mom silently cursing Mother Nature for not
striking us with a freak blizzard or something.  How could I do it, I asked
myself.  How could I face all those people?  I felt like someone had taken
a big rubber stamp and printed the word "fag" on my forehead with indelible
ink.  I was now a marked man, I was sure of it.
     The last few days had been pure hell for me.  I felt like the world
had dropped out from under my feet.  I didn't know how to act.  After all,
how are you supposed to act when you're gay?  The only role models I could
think of were based on the dirty jokes we toldl in the sixth grade and a
handful of sissies I'd seen around school.  Was that how I was supposed to
act now?  I'd have given anything to have had someone to talk to.  I needed
time to think.
     "Marky," I heard my mom ask though the fog between my ears, "are you
gay?"
     "Ma'am?"  My heart stopped.  Did she just what I thought she said?
     "I asked you if you were all right.  You've been so quiet lately.  Is
something wrong?"
     I swallowed hard.  My mind went blank.  I tried not to panic.  What
was I supposed to say?  Uh-Mom-it's like this I fucked a guy the other day
and now I'm worried my dick's gonna fall off . . .
     "You're not getting sick, are you?"  She stuck her hand on my
forehead.  "You don't have a fever.  Do you feel sick?"
     The truth was, my stomach was so tied up in knots that I hadn't eaten
in two days.  "I-I'm fine, Mom.  I'm O.K.  Really."
     "You don't look fine!"
     Oh Mom!  Just drop it, huh?  I tried doing a laugh and a smile, but it
came out as a squeak and a grimace.  "I just don't want to go back to
school."  Good!  I thought.  Always rely on the obvious.  "Any chance I
don't have to go?"
     Mom let out a sigh.  She was buying it.  "Honestly, Mark!"  She
exclaimed in her 'exasperated' voice.  "Sometimes you give me such a scare!
I wish you wouldn't do that."
     Tell me about it, Mom!  You don't know scared from shoe polish!  "I'm
sorry," I mumbled.
     "You've gotten so moody here lately."
     "I'm a teenager, Mom.  I'm supposed to be moody. " That did it!  She
didn't say another word to me.  I knew I'd pissed her off, but at that
moment it was a small price to pay if it stop the grilling.  I'd always
been able to talk to her.  Now I had this monster secret surrounding me
like a wall, and she was on the other side of it.  There was no way I could
talk to her without coming clean.
     Mom pulled up in the school's front drive.  We were a half hour early.
I told her goodby even as a plan formulated in my mind.  I knew if I could
slip past my regular crew, I could hang out down at the livestock pavilion
until school let out.
     I took the back catwalk.  To my horror, I could feel every move of my
ass.  I was sure my ass was swishing from side to side.  Every time I heard
someone laugh behind me I was sure they were laughing at me.  I could
barely remember how to walk, but the need to hide drove me on.  That's when
I saw her.  Beth was heading right for me.  She and Julie were walking
together talking.  I ducked into a building and hid behind some lockers.  I
waited nearly ten minutes to make sure she'd gone by.  I slipped out and
made my way across the parking lot to the gym.  I ducked behind a pillar
just in time to avoid running into Paul.  This was getting to be too much!
     I peaked around and saw that Paul was far enough past me not to see
me, so I took off in a run around the corner of the building.  The first
period tennis class was already gathering on the courts for practice.
(Some of them were wearing shorts!  I forced myself to walk on.)  I made my
way past the greenhouses to the livestock pavilion.  An unbelievable smell
assaulted my nose.  Various bellows and squeals confirmed my worst fears.
"Just my luck!"  I exclaimed out loud toward the heavens.  "I attend a High
School for friggin' farmers!"
     There was no way I could hide in the middle of some livestock show.
At that moment in my life I'd have gladly been born a New Yorker.  I'll bet
myself that no kid in history of New York City ever had his whole life
ruined by cow shit and pig squeals!
     I made my way back up to the gym.  There were several cubbyholes I
could hide in for a while, but I knew I'd have to move with each period
change.  I spent some time in the laundry room. (God!  Did it stink, but
the thought of all those used jock straps helped pass some of the time
. . . )  I dressed out for second period since it was my regular class.  I
figured it was the best place to hide.  Besides, it gave me an excuse to go
to the showers . . .
     By the end of third period I was running out of options.  I slipped up
the catwalks to the restrooms and hid in one of the stalls until lunch.  My
stomach was aching after my two-day fast, and I had to get something to
eat.  Central has a small lunchroom, so they have to break up the lunches
into several groups.  Beth and the gang all ate during first lunch.  I
waited until third lunch to be sure I wouldn't run into her in passing.  I
slipped out and made my way to the cafeteria.  I'd never eaten that late,
so I had no idea it was the busiest time of the day.  The line stretched
all the way outside the building.  I had no choice, so I took my place at
the back of the line.  I hadn't been there two minutes before I heard
Beth's voice behind me.
     "Where the hell have you been?"  She demanded.  I turned around.  She
was pissed, and it showed.  "I saw you this morning.  Why did you hide?"
     Shit!  Time for a little truth, Old Boy, I told myself.  "I decided to
play hooky this morning.  I didn't want to you to know about it in case I
got caught."
     Beth looked off across the quad.  She didn't buy it any more than I
did.  "Am I suppose to believe that?"
     "It's the truth, Babe.  Honest to God!"  Liar!  I shouted inside.
Hypocrite!  "I should have let you in on my plans.  I'm sorry."  My hand
suddenly took on a life of its own.  It seemed to move in a different
direction with every word.  And my wrists!  They were like rubber!  I put
my arms around Beth to keep from going totally Nellie.  "You know I'd never
do anything to hurt you.  I just didn't want to get you in trouble."
     "I won't blow your cover this time," She said as she pulled away from
me.  "But when you get done with this little game, we need to talk."  She
walked away from me without another word.  Her arms were crossed the entire
time she'd talked to me.  Her body language was the picture of anger.  It
seemed to be my day to piss people off.
     I gave up on the idea of skipping any more classes.  After a typically
dismal lunch I made my way to my locker to get my books.  I pulled out
everything I thought I'd need and turned to leave for my next class.  I
looked up to see Paul standing there.  I felt my nuts lurch up to my
throat.  Damn!  He looked good.
     "Hi," I said.  I secretly congratulated myself on how steady my voice
sounded.
     "Hi, yourself," he said.  "Why'd you leave the other day?"
     "You were passed out," I answered.  "I didn't want to wake you."
     "Thanks for getting the place straightened up for me.  My parents came
home before I woke up."
     I laughed.  "It might have been a little hard to explain if I'd passed
out too, huh?"
     Paul let out one of his dopey giggles.  "Yeah, Man.  My mom would've
freaked.  She ain't got no idea I get high."
     What?  No mention of what she'd say if she saw her darling son lying
naked in the arms of another guy?  Is that how we were going to play it?
"It was good smoke, though, wasn't it?"
     "Righteous.  You got any more?"
     "A little.  You want a repeat?"
     Paul looked down at the ground.  He'd caught the double meaning in my
question.  "Yeah.  Maybe once."
     "When?  You call the shots."
     "How about this afternoon.  My dad's out of town, and Mom's on the
evening shift.  I've got the place to myself."
     "I guess there's a few advantages to being an only child, huh?"
     Paul looked at me with a serious look on his face.  "One or two.  You
coming, then?"
     Another double meaning?  "If I possibly can, My Man."  I smiled and
gave him a wink.  "I'll be over as soon as I can get away. "
     "See you then, Man.  I gotta run."
     "Me too," I said.  I stood there and watched as he walked away.  My
heart was beating fast and furious.  If I had any doubts about my
sexuality, Paul had just erased them altogether.
     Beth was waiting for me after school let out.  I decided against
trying to avoid her and walked up to her.  "Hi," I said.  "You still upset
with me?"
     "Yes!"  She answered sharply.
     "Look, Beth . . . "
     "I don't want to hear it."
     "You don't even know what I was going to say"
     She looked me in the eyes for the first time that day.  "Yes I do.
You were going to lie to me."
     "Beth, I "
     "I told you I don't want to hear it.  We'll just act as if today never
happened."
     "What if I don't want to act like it never happened?"
     "You don't want to go there."
     "What am I supposed to say, then?"  I was getting pissed off at her,
and for the life of me, I couldn't understand why.  "You're not going to
believe anything I say, anyway."
     "That's not true."
     "It is, too, true."
     "Are you saying you weren't going to lie to me?"
     I let out a sigh.  "You don't trust me.  If you trusted me, you'd at
least have listened to what I had to say before you started making
accusations. "
     Beth looked away.  "You WERE going to lie to me."
     Women!  "OK.  I was going to lie to you.  Have it your way.  The truth
is I spent the entire morning down at the Livestock Pavilion enjoying
conjugal bliss with a pig.  There's your lie.  Satisfied?"
     "Who is she?"
     "Who is who?"
     "Her!  The girl you're seeing, that's who!"
     Oh Beth!  I thought to myself, you are so deluded.  "The only person
outside my family that I saw all through the holidays was Paul."  Hey!  I
told the truth, and it sounded good.  This might work out, I told myself.
"If you don't believe me, call him.  He'll confirm that I went over to his
house, and Mom'll tell you it was the only time I was out of her sight."  I
saw my mother's car pulling up the driveway.  "I gotta go.  I'll call you
around seven.  We'll talk this through then."
     I hung around the house that afternoon just long enough to think up a
plausible excuse for me to run over to Paul's.  All I could come up with
was, "We're doing a project together."
     "What sort of project?"  She asked.  She was still pissed from my
smart remarks that morning.
     "Human reproduction."
     "You delight in this, don't you?"  She asked.
     "In what?"
     "In torturing me."
     "Seriously, Mom!  We're doing an experiment on how chemicals
introduced into the environment effect reproductive rates in certain
mammals.  Paul and I are going to spend a little time working out how we
want to approach the subject, that's all."  What?  That's the truth!  I was
going over to his house with some chemicals in herbal form to see what
effect they'd have on the male of the species.  I was sure if I produced
the right stimulus, Paul would come up with an approach or two.  If he
didn't, I certainly would.  "So, can I go?"
     "I suppose.  What time will you be home?"
     "I don't know.  We'll probably pop something in the oven.  I won't be
too late."  I bent down and kissed her goodbye.
     Paul opened the door rubbing sleep out of his eyes.  He was wearing a
pair of sweat pants, a T-shirt, and no shoes.  It hit me that Paul had a
definite thing about showing off his bare feet.
     "Your feet don't get cold?"  I asked him as we walked back to his
room.
     Paul stopped and looked at his feet.  "Nah.  I always go barefoot
around the house. " He looked up at me and cracked a smile.  "That's why I
got so bummed out over getting socks for Christmas.  I don't wear socks."
     I kicked off my own shoes once we got to his room.  "I hope this weed
is as good as the last stuff," I said.  "You got a lighter?"
     Paul went over and rummaged around in a dresser drawer.  He pulled out
a lighter and tossed it to me.  I lit the joint and took a hit.  "Here!"  I
said, trying my best not to let out any more breath than I had to.
     Paul took a toke and then handed me back the joint.  We barely said
ten words to each other while we smoked.  From time to time he'd give me a
funny look.  I got the impression that he wanted to talk about what had
happened between us, but he didn't know where to start.  I took a deep hit
and handed him the joint.
     "Finish it."  I told him.
     "Thanks.  I'll save it for later, if you don't mind."  I waved my hand
at him in approval.  "This is some really righteous weed, Man."
     "Yeah," I said as I let out the last of the smoke in my lungs.  "It'll
make you do some weird stuff."  There.  I'd given him the opening he
needed.
     "Yeah."  His eyes were locked on the floor.  "About the other day
. . . "
     "Uh, Paul, I-"
     "I had a good time."  His eyes lifted and he looked me hard in the
face.  "What about you?"
     I was sitting on the bed, and Paul was leaning against the dresser in
front of me.  I couldn't help noticing the slight mound forming in his
crotch.  God!  But he was so sexy!  "I had a very good time, Paul."
     "Then why'd you leave like that?"  He was biting his lower lip and
looking up at me.  His dark hair had fallen down in his eyes, and the
effect was driving me insane.
     "I had to do a little thinking."
     Paul grew silent for a moment.  He was speaking just above a whisper
when he spoke again.  "I'm not queer, you know."
     "That's why I left.  It was one of the things I needed to think
about."
     "Huh?"  The bewildered look on his face only mace me want to take him
in my arms and kiss him.
     "I didn't want to complicate things any more than I already had.  I
didn't want you to be embarrassed when you woke up."
     "I wouldn't have been."
     I smiled at him.  "I was too scared to find out."
     "Jees, Man!  What do you think I am?  I could've stopped you if I
wanted to."
     The mound in his crotch was rapidly becoming a bulge.  I felt my own
cock lengthening down my thigh.  "I hadn't thought of that.  Sorry."
     "I just want you to know I'm not queer, that's all."  Paul came over
and sat down next to me.  "But you are, aren't you?"
     I couldn't look at him.  "Yeah.  That's the other thing I needed to
think about."
     "You went queer over me?  Wow!  You're not in love with me or
anything, right?"
     I gave a little laugh.  "I don't think so.  Would that be so
terrible?"
     He looked away from me.  "I told you.  I'm not queer.  I did that
stuff the other day just to see what it was like.  I still like girls, so
don't start gettin' a thing about me, OK?"
     What did he expect me to say?  The truth is I wasn't IN LOVE with him.
The best I could manage was IN LUST.  "I told you the other day that you
don't have to do anything you don't want to do.  If I make you feel
uncomfortable, I'll leave."
     I made to stand up.  Paul put his hand on my knee.  "Don't go!"  He
said.  "I didn't mean it like that.  I just don't want you to get the wrong
ideas about me, that's all."
     I sat back down.  Paul made no move to withdraw his hand.  ""We're
just a couple of guys helping each other out," he said.  His hand inched up
my thigh a little.  "That's alright, ain't it?"
     "Yeah, Paul," I answered.  "Just a couple of guys."
     "So!  You want to fool around?"
     I looked at him.  This was Paul making the first move.  He'd obviously
planned this out, and his awkwardness was down right sexy.  "What I'd like
to do is fire up the rest of that joint and go take a shower."
     Paul looked at me with a big grin on his face as he reached for the
joint . . .
     Our clothes were scattered from one end of the room to the other.  It
had started as a joke, and it ended with Paul and me giving each other a
little striptease.  Only, in our case, we undressed each other.  I was
really getting into the game, too.  I tried to find a different way to take
off each piece of Paul's clothes.  By the time I got to his underwear the
only thing I could think of was to take them down with my teeth.  Judging
from the size of the erection that slapped me in the forehead, I'd say Paul
thought it was a good idea, too.
     I stood up and looked him in the eyes.  The tips of our cocks were
brushing against each other.  Paul had that flushed look of desire about
him, and his skin glowed in the dim light of his room.  I was stoned, but
the high I got from the weed paled in comparison to the rush of being naked
this close to another guy, especially one as good-looking as Paul.  Every
nerve in my body was on fire with lust.  I wanted to make love to him with
every inch of myself.  He looked so good I didn't know where to start . . .
     "Let's go take that shower," I suggested.
     Paul's eyes got big.  "What if someone comes?"
     "That's the idea," I answered.  Paul's eyebrows knitted together.  He
hadn't gotten the joke.  "We'll lock the door.  No one'll know.  You'll
see."
     I took Paul by the cock and led him into the bathroom.  He still
looked nervous, so I locked the door.  I turned the shower on and stepped
in.  Paul turned on the radio built into the wall and set it on the local
station.  He fumbled with the dial a lot longer than necessary.
     "You gonna join me, or am I going to have to do this by myself?"  I
asked.
     Paul stepped in the shower.  At first, I thought he was going to kiss
me, but he pulled me into a hug, instead.  The warm water spread out over
our bodies, and I picked up the bar of soap.  I started lathering Paul's
shoulders, slowly letting the suds run down his taught body.  The soap made
our bodies slick against each other, and the fresh scent of the soap added
another dimension to the erotic atmosphere.
     Paul took the soap from my hand and began lathering up my back and
arms.  He slowly spread his hands over my body, exploring each rise and
fall of muscle.  His fingers traced each line, and his palms spread out to
measure each prominence.  Paul held his head back far enough to look down
at our chests pressed together.  His lips were quivering, and little
droplets of water clung to his eyelashes.  I bent over and kissed him
softly on his eyes, but he turned his head before I could kiss his mouth.
     Paul's hand reached between us.  I felt the lather from the bar of
soap that he held spread over my upturned cock.  Paul lathered up both our
crotches and dropped the soap.  He reached around me and pulled me tight
against his slick body.  The radio was playing a slow tune, and Paul swayed
gently against me, his hips keeping time to the song.  I picked up his
pace, and we slow danced together standing naked in his shower.
     Paul's breathing was becoming more labored.  Each step of our slow
dance moved our cocks against each other's bellies.  Paul pulled me tighter
to him and began to grind his hips against mine.  The pressure he caused on
my cock sent excitement flashing though my whole body.  I squeezed him
tightly in my arms and began pushing my pelvis with increasing intensity
against his.  Soon, we were no longer moving from side to side.  Our hips
were thrusting hard against each other, and our throats emitted coarse
grunts with each lung.
     I bent close to him and bit his earlobe.  Paul mewed like a kitten,
and I felt the hot rush of his cum spurting up between us.  My own cock
trembled and shook against him.  I thrust hard against him and shot my
load.  Again and again, I felt the churning contents of my nuts spew out of
me.  My whole being was there in my crotch and pouring out of the head of
my cock.
     Paul and I pulled apart and let the water rinse the evidence away.
The last of our cum floated down the drain as the hot water ran out.  We
climbed out of the shower, dried ourselves off, and wordlessly lay down on
Paul's bed.
     I through myself back against the pillow and tried to catch my breath.
Paul was rapidly drifting off to sleep.  I looked over at his baby face,
and tried not to do anything that would disturb him.  I watched as one by
one the muscles around his mouth and eyes relaxed with sleep.  His face
took on an angelic quality, and the lowered eyelids gave him an expression
of natural modesty out of keeping with his sex-flushed nakedness.  I
reached out and tenderly placed the tip of my finger against his lips.  I
traced the pink outline of his mouth, my mind remembering the taste of his
sweet kiss.  So much about Paul was more than I could ask for, and yet,
there was something missing.
     I rolled over and stared at the ceiling.  I found myself wondering how
Paul could sleep under such a heavy, white flatness.  I wanted to run
screaming from the room.  Paul's room was another world, and I understood
so little of it.  I realized, then, that I understood even less about Paul.
We'd just held each other.  Our hands had caressed each other's bodies.
We'd brought each other to orgasm, and yet, I had no idea what Paul saw
when he looked at me.  The only comments he'd make about what we were doing
were his assertions that he wasn't queer.  I wanted more.  I wanted so much
more, but I knew that Paul lacked it within himself to give it to me.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
      I heard the grandfather clock on the stairs landing chiming eight
o'clock as I opened the front door.
     "It's about time you got home, Mister!"  I heard my father bellow.
What the hell was he doing home on a Wednesday?  "Where have you been?"
     I closed the door behind me and stood at attention.  "I-I was over at
Paul's," I said.  "I told Mom I was going."
     "You told Mom!"  There was a sarcastic bite in his voice.  He'd been
hitting the bourbon already, so I knew I was in for a rough time.  "And
that gives you the excuse to stay out all hours on a school-night?"
     "We were working on a school project," I stammered.  I couldn't make
myself speak to him in a firm voice no matter how hard I tried.  It didn't
help any that he was six inches taller than me.  When he came at me like
this, though, it felt like he was six feet taller.
     "I'll just bet you were."  He stood in front of me so close I could
smell the rotten-fruit odor of the whiskey on his breath.  "So tell me,
Einstein, if you were doing homework, where's your books?"
     I looked down at my empty hands.  Damn!  He had me.  It would've
worked on Mom, but not Dad.  I had to think quickly.  "I didn't need them.
Paul has the same books.  We used his. . ."
     "How convenient!"  His nose was less than an inch away from my own
now.  I tried not to blink, but the sour stench of the alcohol on his
breath stung my eyes.  "What's say we take us a little ride over to your
little buddy's house and give it a look-see?  Huh?  What about that?"
     I mustered all the resolve I could, and in what I hoped passed for a
level tone said, "OK.  Do you want me to drive?"
     "You're not driving anywhere," he said in a huff.  "In fact, you're
not getting behind the wheel for the rest of the month.  You're going to
learn to stick to the rules, young man, or there's going to be some changes
around here!"
     My father was ALWAYS threatening 'some changes around here!'  Todd and
I had long since learned that it was a signal he was losing his focus.  The
only thing about my father and his taste for alcohol that I found to be a
plus was that it kept him blurry in the discipline department.  Of course,
I never knew when that discipline was coming, and the much touted rules he
so cherished were apt to change without warning, but I seldom suffered long
from any of his tirades.
     He was staring at me.  There was always something terrifying about my
father's stares.  "Go to bed!"  He shouted at me.  "And don't let me find
you in there with the lights on!  From now on your bedtime is eight
o'clock!"  I hadn't gone to bed at eight since I was ten.
     "But I've got homework to do still!"
     "You should've done it while you had the chance instead of fooling
around with your little buddies!  Now git!"
     I turned and walked slowly up the stares.  Tears were stinging at the
corners of my eyes, but I wouldn't let them fall in his presence.  I topped
the stares and went into my room.  I quietly closed the door behind me, and
I undressed in the dark.
     My father was the model of inconsistency.  Sober, he could be
difficult, but he was never mean.  When he was drinking, though, you never
knew WHAT to expect.  One time he might be the most generous friend you
ever had.  The next time, he could turn so vicious that you feared for your
life.  I never knew which it was going to be, and no two days were the
same.  It left me feeling that I just couldn't win.  The only thing I ever
wanted from him was consistency.  My life would have been so much easier if
I could have either loved him or hated him.  As it was, I felt as if my
entire life were in limbo.
     I crawled beneath the covers and wiped the tears off my cheeks.  I was
angry with myself for letting him get to me again.  One day, I told myself,
I'll be my own man, and no one NO ONE will ever treat me that way again!