Date: Thu, 23 Mar 2000 19:30:11 EST
From: VicHowel@aol.com
Subject: Growing Up Sexual - XX

Growing Up Sexual - chapter XX - by Dave MacMillan

When I began to write it, I never dreamed that Growing Up Sexual would last
this long.  I've attempted to average one installment per week and have
often managed better.  I think that will need to change to one a fortnight
in future; I'm working three novels for publication and, unfortunately,
writing for pay takes precedence over even something as fun as detailing
Vic's travails in Soul GA.

As school opens, the racial situation of the beginning of summer returns to
taunt kids of both races as they grapple with handling this change in their
lives.  We remember places like Little Rock and Selma for the amount of
venomous hatred that went with bringing the races together, but most
Southerners accepted their duty as Americans and learnt to live with
integration; obviously some did not.  In this story, Soul GA went with the
flow of history.

Interestingly, I've been asked if there will be any Jewish characters
brought into Growing Up Sexual.  I can tell you that none will be -
sexually.  In the average small town of the South in the 50's, there were
two Jewish families.  The men were haberdashers, pharmacists, or doctors.
They and their wives sent their children to boarding Yeshivas in the
nearest large city - in GA that was Savannah or Atlanta.

In the 50's, A Jew was about as strange as a Martian to the average
Southern gentile.  He didn't accept Jesus!  That made him suspect.  In
addition, the white supremacists were labelling Jews as "nigger-lovers" who
were working to force integration down everyone's throat.  That made Jews
even more suspect.  And, finally, there was a wave of anti-Semitism raging
in Washington thanks to Senator Joe McCarthy.  That was almost enough to
tar and feather a Jew in the old South.  A Jewish boy who fucked a gentile
boy, much less knocked up a gentile girl, would have been as apt to be
strung up as would a Black boy who did the same thing.

So, there won't be any hanky panky with a white gentile on the part of any
Jews or Blacks I introduce into this story.  I'm just not going to deal
with the worse kinds of man's inhumanity to man in this story.

Of course, everyone realises this is just fiction.  Right?  Also, if you're
under 18, it's illegal for you to read this in English-speaking countries.
If you don't like gay stuff, why are you reading in Nifty?  And all rights
to this story belong to me.

I really would like to hear from all readers. Write me at vichowel@aol.com.
I'll answer any suggestions, comments, or even comments - usually the same
day.  I especially like to get stroked (dirty sod!  You know I didn't mean
that!).

Dave

###############################################################################

Monday morning, I was running behind.  Mum's last wake up call before she
left for work hadn't done it for me.  I started for school walking fast -
not a trot but definitely a fast walk.  I hadn't got to the first
intersection before a horn sounded behind me.  Turning my head I saw Lindy
sitting in the passenger seat, then I saw Broughton driving.  I felt weird
as I stepped over to the car.

"Get in," Lindy told me and scrunched up close to the dash to let me into
the backseat.  I glanced over at Broughton behind the wheel and he just
smiled.

There was a tension inside the car that I could taste.  I couldn't describe
it to anyone else, even if my life had depended on it - but it wasn't the
best taste I'd ever had in my mouth.  Sort of like brussel sprouts or
beets.  Worse - more like chitlins smelled cooking.  I had the distinct
impression Lindy was not happy about the detour Broughton had taken to pick
me up.

At school, Lindy hopped out of the car and started for the buildings
without looking back.  Broughton pulled the back of the seat forward so I
could get out.  I put a hand on the seat and started shifting my weight to
get a leg out the door.  He put his hand on mine.  "Meet me back here after
class, Vic."  I nodded, escaped the car and started towards the same
entrance Lindy had used.  Broughton started in the opposite direction.

I knew two things when I started high school that morning.  I had a lover,
and it really didn't matter whether I wanted one or not.  His name was
Broughton Bennett.

I also knew his younger brother wasn't happy about it.  Or about me,
anyway.  I didn't know how I was going to handle it but knew I had to get
Broughton to tone down his feelings in front of others, especially Lindy.
I didn't think I could handle having him pissed at me.

As freshmen, we did the auditorium bit and were welcomed into the midst of
high school students.  We were given a 25 page handbook then that told what
we could and couldn't do.  The coach was introduced and he explained pretty
graphically what would happen to us if we did what we couldn't do, showing
us his board of education 2 X 4 with the holes drilled in it.  I got the
real impression he was looking forward to using it a lot.

We went searching for our homerooms then.  Actually, most of the freshmen
milled around like cattle waiting for someone to herd them to where they
belonged.  I found my room and started to plop down in the back row.  "Who
are you?" a tall, slim, bald man demanded as I made my way along the wall
from the door to the back row.

I turned and faced Col. Justice.  "Vic Howell, sir," I told him.

He glanced down at a paper on his desk.  "Your seat is B-5, Mr. Howell."

"B-5?"

"Second row, 5th seat from the left, Mr. Howell.  Now, be quick about it."
He looked back to papers he had in front of him and left me to count desks
from the window.  Other students trickled in over the next 10 minutes until
the class was nearly full, there was only the seat next to mine left.

Just as the bell rang, the door opened and a light-skinned Black kid
slipped into the room.  His gaze darted around the room, his eyes wide.  He
chewed on his lower lip.  Col. Justice looked up.  "Mr. Howe?" he asked.
The Black boy nodded slowly.  "B-4.  Please be on time tomorrow.  I abhor
tardiness."  Justice riveted me with his gaze.  "Mr. Howell, please raise
your hand so that Mr. Howe can find his seat."

There was total silence in the room as Charlie Howe made his way to the
desk beside mine.  Most of the kids had their mouths open as they stared at
the Black boy.

We had heard that the high school was going to be integrated, but nobody
had known that it was going to be the freshman class that got the first
Black kid.  It felt strange suddenly, like the world had been turned upside
down.

Soul was a small, close-knit town.  We'd all grown up together, knew each
other at least to nod to.  We all knew where we stood in the pecking order
of things.  The white community and its children did.  Charlie Howe changed
that.  Completely.  By just his presence.

There was suddenly a whole world we had never known.  Charlie Howe was its
visible reminder, and he was about to sit at the desk beside me.  As our
initial shock began to wear off, a voice in the rear of the room yelped:
"He's Colored!"

Charlie froze beside me.  He didn't even look human; he was a stone statue
sitting there, staring fixedly at nothing.

Col. Justice stood beside his desk, ramrod straight.  "You all met Coach
Arthur at Assembly this morning," he said, his voice as firm and commanding
as a drill sergeant's on The Big Picture (a propaganda program the US Army
ran weekly on television during the 1950's).  Couch Arthur had looked like
a combination of Paul Bunyan and King Kong.  He looked like he could tear
any boy into pieces with his bare hands.

Every face turned to face him.  "Anybody," he continued, emphasizing the
word, "anybody who causes any kind of disturbance in this school will have
to meet with Coach Arthur and his board of education.  Is that understood?"

We nodded, even the big farm boys repeating the 9th grade.  Having cowed us
with his threat of Coach Arthur, Col. Justice spent the rest of homeroom
making sure that we could find our way to our classes.

When the bell rang, I said: "Hi, I'm Vic," to Charlie and stuck out my
hand.  He turned and looked at it, then at me.

He smiled slowly.  "I'm Charlie," he answered.  "Thanks, Vic."

I smiled back.  "It'll be all right."

"Hope so.  We'd better get moving."

I felt the hand on my back the second before I was shoved into the lockers
outside Col. Justice's room.  "What do you think you're-!" I fumed as I
turned around and was staring at a broad chest barely covered by a worn
work shirt.

"You talked to him," the boy growled.  Billy and Richard had veered off and
were closing in.  Lindy and Joe Phillips came out of Col. Justice's room
and stopped.

"I'm talking to you too," I answered, looking up into his face.

"He's a damned Nigger."

"I'd watch my language if I was you," Joe said from behind my assailant.

Joe's voice snapped the farm boy's attention away from me.  He looked
around and saw the other 4 boys.  "What do you boys want?" he growled.

"Keep your hands and your thoughts to yourself," Richard told him.

"And if I don't, kid?  You going to go tell Couch Arthur on me?"

"No," I answered with more bravado than I felt.  "We'll take care of you
ourselves."

Lindy grinned.  "Your daddy owes the bank money, doesn't he?" he asked.
"How do you think he'd feel towards you if he had to pay it back tomorrow?"

The farm boy blanched.  "Come on, Vic," Billy told me.  "I think your
friend was just leaving."

"How did you know his daddy owes yours money?" I asked Lindy as we walked
down the hall.

He chuckled.  "Everybody in town owes daddy money.  It was a safe bet that
his did too."

"He didn't look red to me," Billy said.

"You mean Charlie?" I asked.

"Yeah.  Somebody in the state legislature is saying all this integration
stuff is a Commie plot.  I heard daddy talking about it a couple of days
ago," Richard said.  "But that poor kid just looked scared to death."

"He was," I allowed.

"His daddy's the Black undertaker here in town.  I heard he was in private
school last year," Joe said.  "Up in Savannah.  I'll bet he makes better
grades than all of us."

"Aren't they supposed to be dumber than we are?" Richard asked.

Lindy laughed.  "That farm boy of Vic's isn't especially the best reason to
believe in white supremacy.  They probably break down into groups just like
we do - good folks, poor folks, and sorry trash."

I left them to walk into my English class.  But I was grateful as hell that
they'd come to my aid when the farm boy cornered me after homeroom.  They
were good friends, even Lindy who'd acted pissed at me this morning.

* * *

I was like any other cow following the herd when last period let out.  I
followed the nineth grade class out the doors into the parking lot.  "Vic!
Vic Howell!" somebody called from out in the lot and I looked up, trying to
find whoever was calling my name.

I saw him then.  Broughton Bennett was waving at me from the back of his
Olds 442.  I started towards him.

"Where's Linwood?" he asked, referring to his brother, as I came up to the
car.

"He wasn't in my last class."  I looked down at the books I was lugging
around and smiled sheepishly.  "Maybe he was smart enough to drop off his
books at the locker before coming out.  Want me to go look for him?"

"Naw.  We'll just wait a few minutes for him - and I can give him a hard
time when he does show up."  I shrugged.

"Want to go out to Clyde's this afternoon?" Broughton asked a moment later.

"We could, but we'll have to stop by the house first.  I'll have to tell
Mrs. Yokum where I'm going."

He looked startled.  "You wouldn't really tell her, would you?"

I chuckled.  "Mom would have me by the balls if I did.  I'll just say that
I going with you and Lindy out to your pond."

Five minutes later, Lindy came out of the school with Joe Phillips right
beside him.  Lindy slowed down the moment he saw us at the car.  He also
looked a little green around the gills.  Joe just looked relaxed and
comfortable as he strolled towards us.  My curiosity jumped into high gear.

"Hi, boys!" Joe greeted us as he reached the car.  Lindy didn't say
anything and seemed to be holding back, his gaze darting from his brother
to me.  He got into the backseat behind his brother without saying a word.
Joe got in beside him.  I sat on the front seat with Broughton.

"Want to go out to Clyde's?" I asked them as Broughton burnt rubber getting
out of the parking lot.

"Yeah!" Joe whooped.  I noticed that Lindy looked horrified.  He wouldn't
look at me, but he shrugged.  I was pretty sure that I had it figured out.
Joe Phillips and Lindy Bennett.  I was pretty sure who was porking whom too
- all I had to do was looking at Lindy's face.

Joe was pulling off clothes the moment we entered Clyde's property.  He was
down to his briefs when we pulled up to the house.  Joe was out of the car
and jogging happily towards the pool as soon as I pulled the seat up for
him.  Lindy climbed out of the car slowly, like a condemned man starting to
take that last walk, but he followed after Joe.  Broughton and I brought up
the rear.

"Clyde doesn't mind us coming out here without an invitation?" I asked.

Broughton laughed.  "He likes to be surrounded by naked boys, Vic."  He
waved to Clyde as the blond man opened the back door and looked out to see
who had come to play.  He smiled and waved back.

"Come on and get naked, Lindy," Joe told Broughton's brother as they stood
on the apron of the pool.  Lindy was still clothed except for his shirt.

"Promise you won't do anything to let them know," Lindy shot back.  His
words were just barely audible - a jumble at first, low and rushed.  But I
figured them out fast enough from their body english.

Joe's knob was beginning to push through its skin as he grew hard.  He was
looking back at us, watching us approach with a half-smile on his face.
Looking at me, he reached down and pulled the skin all the way back on his
shaft.  I wondered what he'd feel like working that monster into me, even
as I told myself that Joe Phillips was nothing but trouble.  And to stay
far away from him and his dick.  I did not need the fear that Lindy Bennett
was obviously going through.  I wondered if his brother had guessed what
was going on.

Broughton had something else on his mind other than his younger brother,
though.  Me.  We played dunk and he had his hands on me.  We played
leapfrog and he had hands on me.  We leant against the edge of the pool and
just talked - and Broughton was right beside me, his hand surreptitiously
playing with my butt.  Talking to me.

Joe Phillips took it all in and just grinned as he played with Lindy's butt
and didn't even try to hide it.

Lindy obviously didn't know what to do.  He stayed red and kept his eyes on
his brother while Broughton kept talking to me, ignoring them.  But he
wiggled his butt against Joe's hand as if he liked it and wanted more.  I
couldn't help noticing he was staying hard too.  Joe was too.  A couple of
times he reached underwater and gave Joe a couple of strokes.

We'd been in the pool a good thirty or forty minutes and chatting the last
ten when Clyde came out to join us.  Ronnie Varnadore was with him, his
dick leading the way.  It didn't take Wehrner von Braun or Albert Einstein
to figure out why they hadn't joined us earlier.  Besides, Ronnie's dick
was still drooling a little.

Joe didn't waste anytime after we'd all exchanged pleasantries.  "I'm going
to get something to drink," he told us.  He swam to the steps and looked
back at Lindy.  "Come on, go with me," he told him.

Lindy turned as white as a sheet and looked over at the four of us.  Clyde,
Broughton, and Ronnie were talking and ignoring the two boys.  I pretended
to be interested in the conversation.  He shuddered once and started
towards the steps as Joe climbed out of the pool.

I waited five minutes.  I didn't want to spy on them, I just wanted to
confirm my suspicions.  "I've got to take a piss, boys," I said to no one
particularly and, climbing out of the pool, started for the house.

I heard Lindy groan as I stepped into the house.  I crossed the sun room
and almost reached the hallway when Joe said: "You like that, don't you?"
Lindy mumbled.  "Tell me you like my big dick in you."

"I - I like your big dick in me," Lindy answered.

I saw the light from the bathroom halfway down the hall.  It sure sounded
like their voices from coming from there.  Yet, Joe had left the door open.
I couldn't believe.  I moved closer.

I caught sight of the mirror behind the sink then.  From where I stood, I
could see the whole bathroom.  Lindy was bent over the toilet, holding its
back.  Joe had his groin pressed up against his butt.  I watched as Joe
Phillips pulled his dick almost all the way out of Lindy Bennett's butt and
then shoved it back in.

"Fuck me!" Lindy groaned.  I saw his face then.  His eyes were glazed and
his tongue lolled from his open mouth.  He was pushing back as hard as Joe
was fucking him.

I walked back to the pool.  Did I tell Broughton what was happening with
his little brother?  And why was the door half open?

Anyone could have walked into the house and seen them.  Broughton.  Ronnie.
Clyde.  I remembered Julian on his hands and knees taking the 20-something
boys who were at Clyde's bash.  Lindy was close to putting himself in the
same position - or having himself led into it.

I understood the boy loved dick - so did I.  Maybe I had just been lucky
that Richard and Billy were as interested in keeping what they liked quiet
as I was.

I didn't think so.  Julian had had Danny Drumand who taught him that he
liked dick and then made him take it publicly.  It was beginning to seem
that Joe Phillips was more than a little like Danny.  I remembered then
that Danny had never returned the favor to Julian.  I was willing to bet
that Joe Phillips wasn't either.

So, what did I do about it?

I quickly reckoned that Broughton was the last one I should tell.  Old man
Bennett would probably have a heart attack if he knew both of his boys
liked to bend over.  And Broughton was going to go into defensive mode the
moment he found out his little brother was being porked without even a
kiss.  He wouldn't be thinking very clearly and things could get real nasty
quick if he beat up Joe.

I walked over to the pool and asked Clyde if I could talk to him.

###########################################################

I know, I'm a real bastard, ending with a cliff-hanger right after I've
told you I'm going over to a 2-week posting schedule.  If you think you're
going to have a fix of my style of writing in the next fortnight, go
quickly to Nifty's link to Amazon.com.  You'll see a link to Casting Couch
Confessions which I edited.  Click on that, pull out your trusty credit
card, and follow instructions. Inside of a week (in the US), you'll own
your own copy of Casting Couch Confessions.  I edited every story in that
anthology and I guarantee you they're all hot.  Try Barry Alexander's
"Garage Sale" - I really liked that one.