Date: Wed, 17 May 2000 11:04:19 EDT
From: VicHowel@aol.com
Subject: Growing Up Sexual - Chapter XXV

GROWING UP SEXUAL - Chapter XXV - by David MacMillan

This is the place that several writers have made into their soapboxes and
expounded on whatever was bugging them at the moment.  I hadn't done this -
yet.  I'm going to now.  I'm not going to advertise anything, but I am
going to share some personal insights with you.

Recently, I came across an interesting book - 3 MINUTES A DAY TO A 120 YEAR
LIFESPAN by Robert D Willix Jr, MD, (Life LLC, Baltimore, MD).  You have to
understand that at 57, my joints had started to ache, I didn't have the
same amount of energy I had when I was 30, etc.  I wasn't ready to be old.
In short, I was ready for this book.

In addition, I'm overweight.  It's come from sitting in front of my
computer and writing all these sexy stories - or something like that.
Looking at myself in the mirror, I was reminded of the old Alfred Hitchcock
television series - remember his shadowed profile on the wall?  Fat!  Real
overhang.  Hell!  I'm a bloody bear - and I'm not turned on by that image
(sorry, guys, but a smooth swimmer's build does it for me every time).  I
was ready for more than just this book.

I was fortunate that a friend of mine appeared about the same time and
offered me a way to get rid of those nagging aches and pains as well as to
lose that weight.  In addition, I could nourish my body with a mixture of
vitamins, minerals, and herbs developed by some of the best medical minds
in the US (Please realise that there is just no way for a person living in
North America, Europe or northern Asia to get all of the nutrition his body
needs from just the food he eats - but the Asians come closer than the
Caucasians).

In a fortnight, I've lost an inch and a half off my waist and 15 pounds.
My knees no longer hurt when I squat.  And I have as much energy as I
remember myself having when I was in my 20s.

Remember, this isn't an advertisement.  If you're interested in more - good
nutrition, weight loss, or anti-oxidants, write me at Vichowel@aol.com.  I
can give my more information and either answer your questions or find you
answers.

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

I felt strange as I dressed for Richard's and Billy's party.  Not like a
tummyache, or anything.  Just the weird thoughts that decided to roost in
my brain.  A difference that had come over me.

It was Thanksgiving, and Ronnie and I had been a couple a little less than
two months.  I still didn't know how I felt about that, only that it felt a
little weird when I let myself think about it.

We didn't talk about much when we were together.  I'd learnt that we just
didn't have many interests in common.  He gave me rides to and from school,
usually with a quick stop in a lover's lane for a quick fuck before I got
home in the afternoon.  We talked every night and, five minutes later, I
couldn't remember what we'd talk about.  His dick sliding into my butt felt
so good, though - or his lips descending down mine.  He'd become like an
old sneaker - I was becoming more comfortable with him, with us about to
begin our second month together.

Most people in Soul didn't know about us.  Not even most of the boys who
frequented Auntie Clyde's knew.  We were safe that way, just the way I
wanted it.  Clyde knew, of course.  Broughton and Lindy did too; as did
Richard and Billy.  I'm not sure how they found out, but they were cool
about it.  And, after all, it wasn't like they weren't doing it themselves.

Charlie Howe had just looked at me the day after our little talk at school
that Wednesday and grinned.  "See you took my advice, white boy," he'd
said.  I'd blushed.  "Just keep it quiet and enjoy it, Vic."  I still
hadn't figured out if he knew the specifics about me or not.  The rest of
the school didn't, though.

Mum was pretty laid back about me spending the Friday night after
Thanksgiving at Richard's and Billy's.  She knew that their parents were
visiting relatives out of town and that it would be just us boys.  She
didn't bat an eye when she learnt that Ronnie was going to be there with us
too.  "Have fun," she told me as I started for the door and Ronnie's car.
"And don't do anything that'll get you into trouble, Vic."

I knew my mother.  I started wondering what she'd meant as I walked out to
the car.  More importantly, I was starting to wonder just how much she had
guessed.  As soon as I'd pulled the car door closed behind me however,
Ronnie took my hand and placed it on his crotch.  That damned itch flaired
deep in my butt, and I forgot about Mum.

Ronnie was hard before the car could back into the street.  "Want to take a
little detour, Vic?" he asked as he righted the car and put it in drive.  I
was massaging his hard-on through his jeans.

"Yeah."  I ground my butt against the seat like it was his crotch and his
meat was already in me.

He laughed.  "Need it, do you?"

I looked into his eyes watching me and knew he knew me.  "Yeah," I mumbled,
looking down at my hands.

"It's going to have to be quick.  Get out of your jeans and underwear while
we're driving; I'll find us someplace where we won't be bothered for a
few."

I had my loafers off, my jeans and boxers off one leg and below the other
knee when Ronnie pulled into the drive that led up to Clyde's house.  Once
on the property, he pulled off the drive and stopped.  He was opening his
clothes as he circled the hood.  Ronnie grinned down at me stroking my meat
as he stood holding my door open, his shirt thrown over the door.  His
jeans and briefs bunched just above his knees; his hard dick inches from my
face.  My meat was in my hand.

He lifted my right leg and got into the well of the car below me.  My left
leg was lifted up as he settled into kneeling below me.  My back slid down
the seat and my fanny off the seat.  He grinned at me from between my legs
as he placed them on his shoulders.  I felt his knob pressing into my spine
as my butt glued to his belly.  My itch burnt deep in my butt.

"Give it to me," I growled, using my elbows to climb up on the seat enough
that there was room between us for his dick to go where I wanted it to be.

Ronnie Varnadore leant slowly into me, his dick moving along my spine to my
crack.  "Stop teasing," I demanded, "put it in me now."  I reached under my
hip and found him - and pushed it through the valley of my crack to my
hole.  I sighed when his knob was finally wedged against my hole.

He watched me, grinning.  I wiggled my butt and tried to grab his hips to
pull him into me.  He was just out of reach from my position.  "Come on,
Ronnie," I begged.

"Work it in yourself.  Show me how much you want that bad boy in your
pussy, Vic.  Show me just how queer you are."

I wasn't listening to his tone.  His word were just words.  I understood
them but I didn't evaluate them.  I couldn't.  I needed his meat inside me.

I used my elbows to work my body down the seat.  My asslips opened for him
and I got my butt close enough that the head of his dick popped through my
sphincter.  I told myself I was getting closer.  I had him now.  It was
uncomfortable, even almost difficult, but I worked myself onto him until
all of Ronnie Varnadore was inside me and I felt his balls pressing against
my buttcheeks. I was lying on my shoulders, my butt hiked in the air and my
head bent forward as far as it would go.

My dick was hard and oozing.  I felt full and satisfied.  He began to move
inside me.  A moment later, he was banging me hard and rough.  My dick
bounced around on my belly.

"I'm close," he groaned.

I was uncomfortable.  My chin resting on my chest hurt my neck.  His groin
and thighs slamming against my butt was jarring.  But his dick was hitting
my prostate, it was massaging every nerve fibre I had down there.  I was
rising, carried on the sensations washing over me - getting closer.  I
started pulling on my meat.

"Aim it down your leg, Vic," he gasped through clinched teeth.  "Or at me.
Don't mess up your shirt."

My breathing was as labored as his.  I felt my eruption growing in my balls
and aimed my 7 inches towards his belly.  "Oh, God!" I groaned.

He pulled all the way out of me and slammed back in.  His dick pulsed
against every inch of my ass wall as it rammed into me.  I spewed.  He
ground against my buttcheeks as he unloaded in me.

Ronnie had barely caught his breath when he was fumbling to open the door.
I looked up at him between my legs, not understanding.  He got a foot out,
carrying my bottom so that it was above the ground.  Pulling his other foot
out of the car, his hips pulled his dick out of me.

"Get that pussy covered up, baby," he said as my legs dropped from his
shoulders.  "We've got a party to go to."  I watched dumbfounded as he
pulled his underwear up to cover himself.

"Get dressed, Vic," he told me again as he put on his shirt and began to
button it.

He pulled his jeans up over the shirttails and smoothed them before
buttoning them.  He looked at me then - my jeans and underwear on one leg,
my stockinged feet on the grass, my bare ass hanging off the seat, holding
onto and watching him.  "Damn it!  What's wrong with you, Vic Howell?
We've got a party to go to, beer to drink, and real pussy to fuck."

Something was wrong here but I couldn't put my finger on it.  I pushed
myself into a sitting position on the car seat and worked my clothes onto
my bare leg.  Ronnie circled the front of the car and got in behind the
wheel.  I stood up and pulled my clothes on.  "Come on, we need to get
going."  I sat back down, pulled the door closed, and found my shoes.

Silence enveloped the car as Ronnie pulled back onto the road and started
towards town.  I sat in my seat knowing something was wrong and trying to
understand what it was.

We'd had sex like we did every day, and we'd both got off on it - again as
we did every day.  Ronnie had been rougher than usual, but I couldn't see
where that could be bothering me.  I'd emptied my balls.

Ronnie had called me "queer" and referred to my butt as a "pussy".  I
didn't like either.  He'd done it before, however; it wasn't something that
had come out of the blue and slapped me in the face.  I'd come to accept it
as being a part of him.

He'd been rushing me.  I hadn't been able to enjoy the afterglow of sex
like I usually did.  But, again, that had happened before too.  When he had
football practice or I had a test, we hurried.

I was still wrestling with identifying what it was that was wrong about our
sex when we pulled up in front of Richard's and Billy's.  I opened my door
and started to slide my fanny around to get out when I felt a hand grip my
arm.

"Vic-" I looked over my shoulder and saw that Ronnie Varnadore was studying
me closely.

"Yeah?"

"I want you to make a real effort to score Glenda Faye Woods if she's
here."

I studied him as closely as he was studying me.  "Why?" I gulped.

"So you'll know what it's like," he said from behind the wheel.

"Why would I want to do that?" I demanded, keeping my voice low.

He sighed.  "We can like what we're doing together, Vic; but, sooner or
later, we're both going to have to find a girl, settle down, and raise a
family."

I blinked.  I was damned sure I wasn't going to like this.  "Who says?" I
growled.

"It's the way things work.  Doing it any other way would be like banging
your head against a brick wall."

"Are you saying we're through then?"

He chuckled.  It sounded sick in the dark of the car.  "No.  And I'm not
saying I like pussy over a tight ass either.  It's just that next year I'm
going to have to start thinking about settling down.  I'll be graduating
then.  I'll go to work for my dad and start earning a grown up's salary.
Everybody's gonna expect me to date a couple of girls and, in a year or
two, decide on which one I want to live with."

"And us?"

"We've got next year."  He shrugged.  "We can get together when I'm not out
on a date or porking the girl.  I guess we could see each other some even
after I get married."

"I see," I said and felt like somebody had just slammed a 500 pound hammer
in my gut.

"You're going to have to do the same thing.  You might as well start dating
girls now and then, score one occasionally - get used to the idea of
sharing the rest of your life with them."

"I like being with you."

"That's okay for now, Vic.  It's all right to be a little queer when you're
young like us.  But it's not when you're a grown up.  They put you in
prison or the crazy house if you're homosexual."  He grinned.  "Come on,
let's go find out if the boys have Glenda Faye out of her clothes yet."

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

My book, Casting Couch Confessions, is still for sale.  Companion Press
will be releasing the next 3 books approximately mid-June.  Watch Nifty for
ordering information (our Archivist is working on a replacement to
homophobic Amazon.com and will soon have links for you to use).  Any order
through a Nifty link helps Nifty, and you like being able to read the
stories here.

Check out Beginnings for my novel Gut Feelings and Adult/Youth for The
learning Season.  Tune into scifi/fan after Monday and you can read the 1st
chapter of my new novel Confessions Of A Vampire.

As always, let me hear what you think of my stories.  Like any writer, I
LOVE for my ego to be stroked - but I'm also open to criticism.  The
e-address is vichowell@aol.com.