Date: Tue, 22 Feb 2000 18:13:41 -0800 (PST)
From: Dewey <dewey2k@yahoo.com>
Subject: For the Love of Pete Chapter 2

This story is a work of erotic fiction involving teenage boys. All the
usual rules apply. If you shouldn't be reading this now then don't
continue on.

Copyright Notice - This story is copyright by the author and the author
retains all rights.  You may distribute copy, or print this story however
you like, PROVIDED this copyright notice remains intact and you do not
change the story in any way.  Also you may not charge any fee to anyone
to distribute or access this story.


For the Love of Pete
Chapter 2

As I watched Pete leave that afternoon, I was filled with conflicting
emotions.  I was thrilled that I could now let him know how I felt about
him, and even more thrilled he felt the same about me.  But even with that
exhilaration, there were some nagging, worrisome doubts deep inside.  I was
gay.

I am not sure why the label is so significant for me.  At the time, all I
had heard led me to believe being gay was bad.  How it was bad I wasn't
sure.  I knew that being gay was a serious problem since all the guys
seemed to want to pound the shit out of any gays they found.  Maybe that IS
why it was so important.  I was scared of getting pasted.

I had never acknowledged to myself that I was gay.  I liked boys.  That is
all I knew.  I didn't comprehend that that made me gay.  I was me.  I was
no different now than I was yesterday or last week or last year.  But
today, I was gay.  That meant tomorrow, I was a target.  Not that being a
target was anything new to me.  I had been a target every day of my life
since kindergarten.  A very small, very quickly moving target.  But now I
felt I had a bulls eye tattooed on my forehead.

As I was walking home (I only lived a mile from school, while Pete's house
was more like ten miles), the though came to me, "Oh God!  Pete was going
to be a target too!"  I wasn't sure if he had ever been in that kind of an
environment.  I was so caught up in thinking about how I could protect him
from Brent and his pack, that I walked right past my street!  So much for
the homing instinct.

I turned back toward my house and almost ran over a kid that lived in my
neighborhood.  Patrick, or Pat as he preferred, was a tow headed boy with
big brown eyes just into his growth spurt.  He was all arms and legs with
little coordination.  Being in my PE class, I had plenty of opportunity to
watch him at his attempts to do the long jump or the discus.  When he ran
he locked his elbows in place and swung his arms, giving him a lopsided
comic aspect.

"You lost?" A smirk was on his face like he knew what I was thinking.

"Nah, I was coming up to see if you could play whiffle ball, but I
remembered how ugly you were and changed my mind."  I grinned as I said it
to let him know I was kidding.  He could be sensitive some times.  Well, so
am I, but I hide it well.

"I can come down to your place after I finish my chores if you want.  I
have a new pitch to try on you anyway. You want me to see if Chris can come
down too?"  I nodded and told him I'd see him in an hour or so.

I met Pat at age four. He and I went to separate schools until the sixth
grade, but had grown up together.  His parents had a really strong faith in
God and no faith in public school.  But since the christian school they had
sent him to only went up to sixth grade, he joined us at the middle school
in seventh.  On the whole I liked him.  I wasn't attracted to him, though,
even if he was a blond.

Chris, on the other hand, was a different matter completely.  He was one of
those guys that takes on puberty with a vengeance. At age 13, he was
already 5'11" and 185 pounds.  He wasn't fat either, but had worked on his
body since he was nine.  He was a jock, but without the tough exterior that
made Brent so repulsive.

His brother David was in the Navy now as a SEAL. That had been his only
goal growing up, so he did everything he could to get in to the program
including running, swimming, lifting, you name it.  Chris convinced David
to teach him how to lift and they ended up working out together until David
left home two years ago.  When he left, Chris kept lifting. And since Pat
and Chris were the only guys close enough to hang out with, we spent a lot
of time together.

I finally made it home, berating myself for taking the wrong turn and
running into Pat.  I didn't really want to be around him right now, as I
had too much to think about.  I made up my mind to call him as soon as I
walked in the door and tell him I couldn't play ball since I had some stuff
to do.

As I walked up to the front door of the house, I put on my poker face.  I
call it my poker face because just like a poker player in a casino holding
a pat hand, I showed no emotion in my home.  It just wasn't allowed.

My father was a Vietnam veteran.  He went over there at 18 and came back a
different man than the one who left.  It sounds trite, but it's true.  He
learned to turn off his emotions over there.  The only thing I saw from him
was indifference or rage, with nothing in between.  Because he couldn't
express his emotions, he didn't allow me to, either, or maybe he taught me
how to hide them.  I am sure that the stuff I went through in school didn't
help either (If you don't cry, they don't know they got to you).  Anyhow,
he drove the lesson home one day in a major way.  I don't even remember
what it was about. Something had happened and it pissed me off royally.

Dad was at that time, a thirty-six year old man, graying at the edges with
a slight beer belly.  He was a middle manager at the local plywood factory,
getting the worst of both the blue collar world and the white collar
world. He wasn't overly strong, but given my size, his strength and rage
were a fearsome combination.

Anyway, I was really going off.  My dad stepped in front of me, placed one
hand on my shoulder and lightly slapped me with the other.  Well, being the
stubborn child I was, this only incensed me further, and my face showed it.
He slapped me harder, then put his finger on my nose and said. "Stop it!"
I closed my mouth which had fallen open after the second slap and let an
angry scowl come to my face.  He slapped me a third time, hard, saying,
"Get that expression off your face or I'll slap it off!"  Talk about
motivation to work on a poker face.

That is what did it for me.  Only I took it a step further.  My dad didn't
want me to show anger.  I took the lesson to mean that emotions couldn't be
shown at all.  And that is the way I am still today.  Only Pete could get
me to open up.

For my moms part, she really wasn't interested in me.  Her interests lay in
the direction of assessing how miserable her life was.  I had always
thought that my parents marriage was, if not happy, at least comfortable.
Now that I look back, I realize that my mom, in her own way, was
sacrificing her life so us kids wouldn't have to go through a divorce.

She was a pretty thirty-two year old woman, working at a credit union as a
gopher for nearly minimum wage.  Not a fulfilling career to say the least.
She came home to a house that was always a wreck, a husband incapable of
love and her two wonderful children, both of which were a burden, or so it
seemed.

I was the first born, and with everything that had happened to me, seemed
distant and suspicious to her.  I guess she called me her "perfect little
boy" because I was never under foot or causing problems.  My sister on the
other hand, was a High Holy Terror.

Dawn made it her business to do all the mischief I never did, and then do
her own mischief on top of that.  Two years younger than me, she already
had boyfriends coming out her ears and willing coconspirators in the girls
in our neighborhood.  She disobeyed constantly, and my parents more or less
let her get away with most of it. My mother spent a lot of her time
apologizing to those girls' mothers for what Dawn had done.

Dawn had always been popular in school, had always brought home the best
grades, and always rubbed it in my face.  Just like most older brothers, I
had been admonished several times that I was bigger and stronger than her,
and not to give her the pounding she richly deserved in my estimation.  But
now, we were more of a size.

Let's see.  Where was I.  Ah, yes...

As I opened the door, my mother flashed me that fake smile she used to
convince me she was happy and everything was all right.  Then the smile
slipped and she said "Hi honey, how was your day?"  Having completed her
compulsory greeting, she then turned from me and resumed doing whatever she
had been doing, already putting me out of her mind.

As usual, I headed toward my room without a word.  I made sure to close the
door behind me.  Pete wouldn't be home for a half an hour, so I went ahead
and called Pat. His mom answered the phone and told me that he had already
left for Chris's place.  I thanked her and quickly dialed up Chris.  He
answered the phone, and I told him that I had some things I had to do and I
wouldn't be able to come out for a while.  He complained half heartedly and
then told me he'd see me later. I went back to the problems at hand.

I settled myself on the bed holding a book in my hands, not really reading
it, but rather thinking about how I would deal with the pack.  For some
reason, it was in my mind that they knew about Pete and I, and that they
would be gunning for us.  And try as I might, I could think of no way that
Pete and I could protect ourselves from the whole pack.  Individually or in
pairs, we would be able to hold our own.  But if they ganged up on us...  I
didn't want to dwell on that thought.

The phone rang and nearly scared me out of my skin.  I glanced at the clock
as I picked it up.  I had been sitting there for over 45 minutes!  Just as
I put the phone up to my ear I heard Dawn scream my name into the phone. I
quickly jerked it away from my ear, covered the mouthpiece and yelled "Got
It!".  Once more placing the phone to my ear, I waited to hear the phone
slam down as Dawn hung her end up.  But I didn't hear it.

I spoke softly into the phone. "Dawn, hang up please."  She didn't,
thinking that I didn't know she was actually there.  "Dawn, don't make me
come out there. You remember what happened last time," and I added an evil
little laugh for good measure.

"Asshole."  She finally hung up.

"Hi Bri.  Whuzzup?"  It was Pete after all.  I don't know who else it would
have been, though.

As he spoke, I felt a thrill in my heart.  How could I have not felt that
in the thousands of times he had called me before?  I tried to reply past
the sudden lump in my throat.  Instead of speaking to him, I croaked at
him.  Oh God, how embarrassing.

"You OK?  You sound like you're sick."

"I'm fine man.  Just had to catch my breath.  How are you doing?  You OK?"

"No, I'm not OK, I'm not with you, so how could I be OK?"  If there was any
doubt in my mind at that point that I wanted to be with him , he destroyed
it then and there.

"Dude, you don't know how you just made me feel.  I wish I could be with
you too."  I heard the receiver in the other room come off the hook.

Dawn's piercing voice came across the line, "Hurry up!  I have to call
Katelynn.  Get off the phone!"  I knew at this point that any conversation
we were going to have would have to take place face to face, especially
with my sister around.

"Give me a few more minutes and we'll hang up, 'k Dawn?"

"Just hurry up," she said just before slamming the phone down again.

"Pete, we can't talk on this line. Too many ears, ya know?  I'll see you
tomorrow at school.  Ask your mom if I can spend the night on Friday or
Saturday, will you?"

"I wanted to talk to you now, but I do know your sister.  I'll ask my
mom. And Bri?"

"Yeah?"

I almost didn't hear what he said he was so quiet, but I did hear it. "I
love you." Dawn chose this moment to see if we were still on the phone.

"Me too, bud.  See you tomorrow?"

"Yeah.  See you then.  Bye."

"Bye." He hung up the phone.  Dawn said with an impatient tone "You done
talking to your boyfriend now?"  My blood ran cold.  It took me a moment to
respond. She couldn't know, could she?

"Uh, Yeah.  Next time wait until I tell you we're done, OK?  I don't listen
in on your calls."

"Whatever.  Hang up."  And I did.

I sighed.  I guess I was going to make it out to play ball anyway.  That
was OK, I would see Pete tomorrow, and make up for lost time.

The phone rang again.  I thought it might be Pete, but Dawn didn't screech
my name, so it must've been for her.  I wondered what she could possibly
talk about for hours on end with a person she just left at school.

I gathered up my glove, bat, ball and grabbed a baseball cap as I left my
room.  As I was heading for the door, my mom motioned me to wait as she was
on the phone.

"Uh huh, I understand.  Don't worry, I'll take care of it.  I'll make sure
it doesn't happen again.  Thank you for calling."  She hung up the phone
and turned to face me, giving me "The Look".  Seeing this, I franticly
tried to remember what I could have possibly done to deserve The Look.

"And just where do you think you are going, Brian Andrew?"  Oh shit.  She
was really pissed.  She had her hands on her hips and was impatiently
awaiting my response. I decided to try the truth than second guess why I
was in the dog house.

"Out to the lot to play ball.  Pat and Chris are waiting for me."

"Well, think again.  You have wasted enough time with your friends for one
day, and what's worse, it was time you should have been in class!  You know
how important school is to your future! And yet you decide to skip whenever
it suits you!"  That was unfair.  I had never cut class before today.  "I
don't think you need to worry about going anywhere for a week, young man!"

"I had a good reason. Don't you think I know better than to skip unless I
have a good reason?"  As I objected, my mom's face started getting flushed.
She didn't like it when I argued with her.

"Don't you get smart with me!  I think you had better tack on another week.
Maybe you'll learn not to argue!"  Oh man, now I'd done it.  I wouldn't be
able to spend the night with Pete this weekend, or be with him after school
got out the following week.

With these thoughts running through my heart and what little brain was
functioning, I did something remarkably stupid.  I started yelling at my
mother.

"You never listen to me!  I said I had a good reason, but do you ask? NO.
You just go on and decide I need to be grounded anyway.  You don't care
that I was with Pete this afternoon because he was crying and shook up and
needed someone to talk to.  You taught me to help people in need.  I did,
but you are punishing me for it!"

You know, I used to think that fire engine red was the brightest red
around.  I was wrong.  My mom's face outshone any red I had ever seen.  I
think she was in shock.  Her perfect child had just yelled at her. What an
idiot I was.  Now I was going to get grounded for the summer. Or maybe the
rest of my life.

Over my mom's shoulder I saw Dawn standing there with a huge smile on her
face.  She loved to see me in trouble.  It didn't happen very often.  She
was trying to stifle a laugh behind her hand and failed.  My mom heard it
but ignored her.

When mom next spoke, she had that icy calm rage that scares me.  I only saw
it rarely and it usually meant dire consequences to whomever was in her
path.

"You go to your room.  No TV. No phone. No computer.  Your father will be
home in an hour.  We will discuss what is to be done with you and let you
know our decision. Now go."  Leadenly, I turned around and marched to my
room, being careful not to slam my door.

God help me, I was so stupid!  I deliberately antagonized her into this.  I
purposely set myself up for this, effectively eliminating any chance of my
seeing Pete any time in the foreseeable future. What a fucking idiot. I
wasn't worth having as a friend if I couldn't keep out of trouble long
enough to BE a friend.  Stupid sorry bastard.

I spent the next forty-five minutes telling myself stuff like that.  I did
that a lot.  People tell me I am too hard on myself - that I have
unrealistic expectations of myself.  That may be, but I was taught from an
early age that I had to be, if not perfect, damn close- and I rarely was
even in the ball park.  Looking back now, I literally convinced myself that
I was stupid, lazy, and a generally bad person.  Only after these many
years have I come to realize that I am not stupid - far from it.  I am no
more lazy than the next person.  And as for being a bad person, I am not a
murderer or a rapist, so I can't be that bad.

Now don't get the idea that I woke up one morning without those self
destructive thoughts.  I had years of therapy and many more years of life
experience to get my head on straight. It took a LOT of work on my part to
root out the cause of those thoughts.  It is always an on going battle to
remember that I am smart, good looking, and worthy of what I have.  And no
matter what you happen to think about yourself, everyone is worth of a
happy, fulfilling life.  EVERYONE! Yes, even you.

Again, I digress.

I heard the door shut in the living room.  My dad had just walked in the
front door.  I heard Dawn yelling "Daddy, Daddy, guess what Brian did!" Oh
wonderful.  Just what I needed - Dad getting a skewed version of what
happened from Dawn.

I heard Mom tell Dawn to mind her own business or she could go to her room,
too.  I grinned in spite of myself. Served the little bitch right.  Then I
heard my mom and dad talking to each other, but I couldn't make out the
words.  Funny thing was, my dad didn't sound like he was upset like he
normally gets when we get in trouble with Mom.

Ten minutes after he got home, my father came to my room, judge, jury, and
executioner.  As he opened the door, I was confused. His face wore a
neutral expression instead of the open rage I expected.  He closed the door
behind him, pulled out my desk chair, and sat.  This wasn't what I expected
and I began to get wary.  Strange things set me on edge, and this was on of
the most unusual occurrences I had ever witnessed.

His blue eyes met mine and I had to look away.  Whether it was natural
subordinance or something else I wasn't sure.  Maybe it was fear.  I never
could look my dad in the eyes.  It's not an easy thing even now.

"Brian, why did you skip out of class?"  This was the last thing I expected
from him.  Normally he comes in like the angel of doom, and announces my
fate.  Why this sudden questioning?  What did he want?  What would appease
him?  I decided on truth.  I usually did.

"I skipped out with Pete today.  I found him at his locker crying.  He had
been for a while, I could tell.  He needed someone to talk to and I was the
only one there. I wasn't sure what he would do otherwise."  I slumped down
now, having told my side of it.  No unnecessary details or pleading. It
wouldn't have helped, anyway.

"What did you talk about?"  Now this was a tricky question.  I couldn't
tell my dad that Pete was gay.  I wasn't sure how he would react, and I
wanted to be with him.  I couldn't risk not being able to see him.

"He asked me not to tell anyone."

"Brian, we have to know.  We need to make sure that he is safe and wouldn't
do anything to hurt himself.  I need you to tell me what he said."  Still I
refused.

"I'm sorry dad, he asked me not to tell, so I won't.  I will say that
everything is fine at home as far as I know and he's not going to kill
himself.  He's not on drugs or dope or anything like that." I thought I
might as well hit all the high points here for good measure. "No one is
beating him or anything.  If I thought he was in danger I would come to
you, but he's not. Please believe me. He's fine.  He just needed to talk."
I stopped before I overplayed my hand.  My dad was acting weird and I
wasn't sure where to go anyway.

He stared at me for a while.  I met his gaze for about five seconds before
I dropped my eyes again.  He sighed and got up out of the chair.  He told
me to wait here for him; he would be back.  I wondered what was going to
happen to me.  I had never seen my dad this calm when I was in trouble.  It
was more frightening than his rages.

I sat there on my bed until he came back, imagining what kind of sentence
he would hand down.  When he came in, my mom was behind him.  She had a
pensive look on her face, like she was worried or nervous about something.
She couldn't know I was gay, could she?  Was that what my dad was trying to
get me to admit?  That Pete and I were gay?  I couldn't believe that we had
only been boyfriends less than a day and we were already found out.

"Bri, your mother has something to tell you."  He looked at my mom, who
sighed (a lot of sighing in my family - everyone is so unhappy).

"Brian," she began, "I need to apologize to you.  You were right and I let
my anger get the better of me.  You saw a friend in need and you acted on
that.  I'm sorry that I yelled at you." She grinned at me. "Maybe I do need
to listen to you more."

To say that I was shocked would be an understatement.  I was blown away
totally.  I couldn't remember an adult ever apologizing to me for anything,
much less punishing me. Well, preparing to punish me anyway.

After I picked up my jaw and stuffed my tongue back in, I said something
lame like "That's okay, Mom," or "No problem."  And that was the end of
that.  No grounding, no whipping, nothing.

Maybe I would get to stay over at Pete's this weekend after all.  All I
needed to do was keep my mouth shut.

The rest of the night was uneventful.  All of us went back to our usual
roles.  No one said much, and the TV was the center point of the evening.
I went to my room around eight o'clock and started reading my book
again. It was a fantasy story by a well known author.  I had read that book
probably close to twenty times.  And no matter how often I read it, I
always find some new detail I had missed before.  I do that with all of my
books that I like.  Most people I tell this to think I am crazy.  Maybe I
am, at that.

As I was reading the book, Pete kept popping into my mind, distracting me
from the story.  I reread the same page around five times without even
knowing it.  Pete was so cute I couldn't get him out of my head, not that
he was unpleasant to think about.  I finally gave up on the book and
started focusing my mind on him.  He was so hot!

I pictured him in my mind's eye.  He was 5'6", about 125 pounds and solid
muscle with out looking overly muscular.  I loved watching him without his
shirt on.  His muscles would move under his skin and turn me on to no end.
His chest was smooth with defined pecs, a washboard stomach that I longed
to run my fingers and tongue over.  His legs were a runners legs, a result
of his training for track (he ran long distance races like the 800 and 1500
meters).  To put it succinctly, there wasn't one thing about him that
didn't turn me on.  His blond hair was jut the icing on the cake.  His
beautiful face, laughing smile and gorgeous blue eyes were a bonus.

As I thought of him, I started to get excited.  That happened a lot lately,
and I didn't have to be thinking about sex either.  It could be
embarrassing.  But right now, I felt really good and started to rub myself
through my boxer briefs.  Of course this only made my situation worse.  I
finally pulled my underwear down and did the job properly, imagining it was
Pete with his hand on my erection, slowly gliding up and down, taking me to
the heights of orgasm and gently bringing me down again.  I couldn't cum
yet, but I knew what and orgasm was and how to have one.

As I was recovering, I thought of what it would be like to have Pete as a
boyfriend and sleep with him, and I got hard again.  We would explore each
others bodies with eyes, hands, and tongues, learning every curve and
crevice, every small nuance that made us who we were.  We would take our
time and go slow, making sure we covered inch and knew each others bodies
like our own.  We would kiss each other gently and explore each others lips
with our tongues, tasting each other, testing our responses, learning what
we wanted from each other.  He would press his tongue against mine and I
against his.  They would dance together, searching out one another and
dancing together.

My hands would be feeling his skin, running from his bare shoulder down to
his chest, teasing his nipples lightly as I moved further down to his
awesome abs. I would feel them against my hand, rubbing them and feeling
them tighten as I tickled him.  My hands would continue downward and around
to his firm butt, kneading and massaging him, feeling him clinch as he
reacts to me. My hand would then move around and lightly brush his pubic
hair, marveling at the softness.

I pictured his perfect body standing in front of me in my mind, my hand
reaching for his erection, slowly stroking him toward release when-

WHAM!  I was hit with wave after wave of the most intense pleasure I had
ever felt.  This was far better than any orgasm I had had prior to this.
And there was a little liquid leaking out of my quickly deflating penis.
My first cum.  Wow!  If Pete could do that when he wasn't even here, I
couldn't wait to see what would happen when we were together.

I just lay there, enjoying the moment and letting my mind drift.  Or I
tried to let it drift.  Pete seemed to anchor my thoughts. I didn't mind.
He was beautiful to look and think about.  I fell asleep that night with
his image in my mind, smiling at me.  I am sure he was in my dreams too.

----------------

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