Date: Thu, 08 May 2003 11:06:32 -0400 From: Tom Cup <tom_cup@hotmail.com> Subject: Of Our Teenaged Years - Chapter 6 - Gay Y/F Copyright 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003 by the Paratwa Partnership: A Colorado Corporation. All rights reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic or mechanical, except in the case of reviews, without written permission from the Paratwa Partnership, Inc, 354 Plateau Drive, Florissant, CO 80816 This is a fictional story involving alternative sexual relationships. If this type of material offends you, please do not read any further. This material is intended for mature adult audiences. Names, characters, locations and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. ************************************************************************ What's New at TomCup.com? Of Our Teenage Years Chapter 12 Added 5/5 The Innocents Part 4: Paulo and Beto By Richard Dean Chapter 4 Added 5/01 KOA Boy Chapter 6 Added 04/23 Stephen Miller's Journal Chapter 12 Added 4/13 Mentoring Brandon Chapter 8 Added 4/13 Raptors By Richard Dean Chapter 7 Added 4/13 Age Before Beauty Chapter 4 Added 4/08 Calvin: Identity Crisis Chapter 12 Added 4/02 Private Lessons Chapter 5 Added 3/06 In Memory of Steve: Chapter 9 Added 2/13 Short Story: Ambrosius Added 1/29 Short Story: Blair Manor Added 1/29 Sexfiles File 10 Added 11/30 Short Story: Can I Stay With You Added 11/30 Terms of Living Chapter 11 Added 11/16 ************************************************************************ Of Our Teenage Years By Tom Cup Chapter 6 Birds of a Feather As the days passed and my relationship with Sam grew, I realized that many of the venues of the relationship were decided long before I came to terms with my sexuality. Sharon was correct concerning me being the more passive lover. As I lay beneath Sam, fleshy lumps grinding beneath the cotton fabric of our jeans, I realized that our sexual exploration was a continuation of our childhood wrestling matches. My hands moved shyly over Sam's body. He explored my body like a victor of war, not violently but with authority. I loved giving myself to Sam, I always had, and now that we were entering a new phase of our relationship I was all the more willing to be everything that my boyfriend wanted me to be. As the warm, wetness of Sam's mouth touched and teased mine, I wondered, briefly, about the boy with whom Sam had first had sex. Was he like me? Did Sam think about me when they were playing together? What kinds of things did they do together? Would I be as good a lover as that mystery boy or would Sam be thinking of him when he was making love to me? Everything that I knew about getting it on with a boy I was learning from Sam. Actually, everything I knew about getting it on I was learning from Sam, period. It's one thing to grip your cock and bring yourself off to orgasm, it's quite another to have someone else knead your flesh. Even if you don't get off it is such an intense experience that it out weighs self imposed orgasm -- at least it did for me. Sam's tongue danced with my tongue as his hand roamed between my legs. I shifted and opened my thighs. I could feel the heat radiating from his palms, through my jeans, and penetrating my cock. I wanted so much to get undressed with Sam and to complete the consummation of our pledges but we were in the treehouse, and it wouldn't be long before Mrs. Swanson came to check on us. "Can you come over this weekend," I asked, "maybe stay the night?" The question sent fearful expectancy through my body. I didn't want to break the sensual magic that our feeling each other up was producing, nor did I want to pain Sam with the fact that we weren't as free at his house to explore our love for each other as we were at my house, but that was the truth; and the more he rubbed his body against mine, the more his hands roamed between my legs, the more I wanted to do more than feel each other up through our clothing! Sam smiled down at me and then kissed me gently. "I can't," he said. I wanted to cry. It seemed that our love affair would never move beyond what my family would allow and what Sam's family would not. "Don't cry Gerald," Sam whispered. "I'm not crying." "You look like you're gonna. Besides, I know what you're thinking and it ain't so." "What? What am I thinking?" "That I'm still hung up on how your Dad acted when he caught us kissing." I nodded. That was what I was thinking. Sam shook his head. His lips came down on mine. "I'm over it," Sam said, "I want us to be together." "So why can't you come over this weekend?" "I have to visit Dad," Sam shrugged. My eyes widened. I didn't know how divorce worked. Neither had Sam. We began with this lesson: everything was to be divided between the two parents, including Sam's time. I admit that I was afraid that Sam would get alone with his Dad and be brained washed by some kind of sleep deprivation technique like we were hearing about on the evening news. The Hara Krishna's used that kind of technique to get kids to leave home, shave themselves bald, give up all their earthly possessions, and chant strangely, jumping up and down, clapping tambourines. It wasn't so far fetched to believe that Sam would come back from his visit with Mr. Swanson and no longer want to be with me. My fears were reinforced by Mrs. Swanson's voice, rising like a shaky siren, signaling the end of Sam's and my private time. "You boys OK up there?" Mrs. Swanson asked. Sam grinned at me wickedly. "Hold on mom," he said, "We have to get dressed." I swear I heard Mrs. Swanson's gasp, though I can't imagine how through Sam's riotous laughter. He rolled over onto his back, pulling me on top of him. He kissed me, unhurriedly, running his hands down my back to my ass. It was the first time I had been touched in such an erotic fashion and it caused me to lose myself in Sam's kiss. *********** Mrs. Swanson had regained whatever composure she had lost when Sam confirmed her suspicions that we were in the treehouse acting wickedly. My composure was, however, shaken. I was embarrassed to look her in the eyes. I could feel red heat escaping my cheeks. Sam was a new man. He put his arm around my waist as he walked me to the door, and before letting me leave, turned me into his arms and kissed me -- full on the lips, in plain view of his mother. Mrs. Swanson looked away, and then back at us. Our eyes met. She smiled and looked away again. I closed my eyes and accepted Sam's gift. We wouldn't hide our love for each other anymore, whether at his house or mine. "I love you," Sam whispered. "I love you too," I said. "I'll call you when I get back, OK?" "OK. I'll miss you." "Me too." I turned to leave. "Gerald?" Mrs. Swanson said. I turned towards her. She was rising from the dining room table where she had been sitting throughout Sam's and my display. I don't know what I expected. There was a tightening in my gut. I looked to Sam. He was watching his mother with intense curiosity. I turned my attention back to Mrs. Swanson. She was moving towards me -- everything seemed to be moving in slow motion -- there was a smile on her face; her arms were outstretched. "Don't I get a good-bye?" she said as her arms embraced me. ************ Sharon invited me to go swimming with her, Doug, and George. It was one of those rare Saturdays when, after breakfast, Dad announced that he was giving the kids the day off from weekend chores -- that usually meant that there were some serious sporting events on TV that Dad didn't want to miss -- and since Sam was gone, I had nothing better to do. Doug picked us up in the 1968 Ford LTD that he had received as a pre-graduation gift. It was a beautiful car, burgundy with a black top. I know that the car was meant to impress Sharon but I think it had more of an affect on me. Sitting in the back seat with George, watching Sharon smile while Doug drove with one arm around her, I imaged myself sitting in the front seat of such a car with Sam. George was his usual silent and withdrawn self. I had gotten used to his moods but there seemed to be a new undertone to his disposition that interested me. The pool was packed with kids enjoying the yawning days of school vacation. Doug and Sharon quickly found their friends and were absorbed by the group. I shrugged and found an empty lounge chair, spread my towel on it and stretched out to enjoy the warmth of the sun. George sat on the chair next to me, staring at me. "What?" I asked, blinking up into the sunlight that backlit his silhouette. I could see him shrug but he didn't answer. He lay on his lounge chair, staring up into the sun. I closed my eyes and thought of the things that I wanted to do with Sam the following weekend. I was careful not to become too aroused by my thoughts, turning my mind to mundane things when I was in danger of sporting a full-fledged hard-on. "Yo! Gerald." I had all but forgotten the friends that I had spent much of my time with before coming together again with Sam. I opened my eyes to see Spenser, Chad and Robert coming toward me. George watched me as I sat up to greet them. "Where you been?" Spenser asked. "Around," I answered, "Oh, this is George." There were nodded greetings passed around. "So we hear you been hanging around with Sam," Robert said. "Yeah, so?" "Well, is it true?" Spenser asked. "Is what true?" "What everyone is saying," Chad scowled. A sinking weight struck the bottom of my stomach. I had forgotten about the Five and Dime -- if not forgotten, I had placed it in the make believe world where what I had said would be taken as figurative, explained away as an innocent statement that didn't mean that I was a queerboy. Spenser eyed me with a smirk. Chad and Robert eyed George suspiciously. "What's everyone saying?" I asked. "That you're fucking queer!" Chad snapped. "Is this your boyfriend?" Spenser laughed. George stood up. His fists were clenched. He stood face to face with Spenser. My mouth opened and closed. I knew what life was like for boys at school that people called queer. Most of those boys were just eggheads, too bright to be with the rest of the student body. They were tormented for their intelligence more than for their sexuality, which no one knew. But I had proclaimed that I was queer. I liked boys. If Spenser, Chad and Robert knew then the whole school would know. "I ain't no fucking queer," George said, "If you want me to prove it, I will." Spenser took a step back as if George had slugged him. I felt like I had been slugged. "Fucking queer" hung in the air until all eyes returned to me. "My Mom," Robert said, "was at the Five and Dime and said that you told Sam's Dad that you were queer." I could have lied. I could have said that his mother had been mistaken -- that that wasn't what I was saying, that I was pissed because Mr. Swanson had called me queer. I could have reminded them of all the times we had spent together. I could have denied everything and remained friends. I could have walked into school in the fall knowing that the rumor of my being queer would have been eliminated. Then I thought of Sam. I thought of my father, my mother and Sharon. What did it matter if the rest of the world hated me? Those closes to me loved me. I opened my mouth to speak but it was George who was heard. "So fucking what?" he said, "Gerald's cool. I've only known him a little while and I know that. How long have you assholes known him? And now you want to ditch him because someone said he was queer. You're fucked up!" "Fuck you punk!" Chad said. I never saw the punch but I saw the effect. Chad went stumbling back toward the pool, George charging after him with a flurry of punches. The fight was over before the lifeguard blew the whistle. George and Chad were thrown out of the pool for fighting. But not before George issued a warning to Spenser and Robert -- fuck with me and George would kick their collective asses. I watched the lifeguard manhandle George and Chad through the gates. George marched to car and sat on the hood, staring back at me through the fence. I don't know what happened to Chad. I turned when I felt a hand on my shoulder. "What happened," Sharon asked. Doug was staring out toward George. "It's OK," I said looking back at George, "We don't feel like swimming is all. Can we go? We'll walk home." Sharon nodded. I gathered George's and my things and headed out the gate. ************ I wasn't sure what to say to George as I handed him his things. I wasn't sure if beating the shit out of Chad was the correct way of handling the situation. But I had to admit that it felt good having someone besides family stick up for me. "Thanks," I whispered. "Is it true?" George asked. "Yeah." "I thought so," George said. "So why'd you stick up for me then?" "Just because you're queer," George said, wagging his head, "doesn't give people the right to pick on you. It's wrong and it pisses me off." I nodded and remembered when our hands accidentally touched in the movie theater. The knot in my stomach melted and heat rushed to my cheeks. "Besides," George said, "Nobody fucks with my future brother-in-law. Nobody fucks with our family. That's what Doug always says." I looked back at the swimming pool. Sharon and Doug had once more melted into the fold of their social group. My sister was getting married. I smiled. George walked me home. ************************************************************************ Send comments to: comments@tomcup.com To support this and other stories by the author, join at http://www.tomcup.com. If you like this story, check out Tom Cup's "Calvin: A Coming of Age Story." Available at Barnes and Nobles Bookstores, Amazon.com, your local independent bookseller, or from Tom Cup.com.