Date: Fri, 17 Aug 2007 07:21:24 -0500
From: J.J. <jjjanicki@gmail.com>
Subject: Understanding Sex-Part 1

The following is a work of erotic fiction involving underage boys. Or at
least somewhat erotic, (a bit of foreshadowing here; if you stick with
it, it should get better) but at any rate, if reading this is illegal in
your present place of residence, then you should exit immediately. If you
find the subject matter to be offensive, exit and if you're underage...
EXIT!

I wrote most of this back in 1988, when I was 14. Although inspired by
actual events, quite a bit is pure fantasy. Which would make roughly
between 5% and 93% of it true. Names have been changed to protect both
the innocent and the guilty. Occasionally characters were assigned both
first and last names, mostly because I just liked the way they sounded,
but again, let me assure you that I made it all up and any resemblance to
any person living or dead is purely coincidental.

Originally it was like a journal. When I started writing, I was in no way
ready to admit to myself that I was gay. So for the most part I'll not
bother you that part. (Well, it's a relief to ME at any rate.)

I HAVE edited the stories I wrote, and I've also rearranged them a bit.
For example, this first installment was something I wrote after finally
MAKING that big admission. That I was gay. (Possibly.) So OK, I wasn't
exactly going to start advertising that fact, and at first my
expectations were rather low. (More foreshadowing.) But I've started with
this story just to establish the way things really WERE for me at that
time. If you've read some of my previous stories, (and hopefully enjoyed
them) then I think you should enjoy this one, and I hope you like Aaron a
lot. I know I did.


                    Understanding Sex- Part 1
                             Aaron


So first I suppose it would help if I were to give a brief synopsis of
exactly HOW I found myself at Brother Jack Furnier's Christian academy.

I got busted. Pot. Oh right, I should also mention that my name's J.J.
I'm 14. My foster-father is a fundamentalist preacher. And THAT should
explain just about everything right there, but if we're going to start
with THIS story, then I should also mention that right now it's early
June and I'm at my Aunt Esther's up in Minneapolis. (Home is Atlanta,GA.)
I'm up here because my old man felt called into evangelism. He's going to
give it another shot this summer, just as he did last summer. So at any
rate, my foster-parents and my foster-sister are all going to be
traveling as a team. But having me along just might prove to be a bit
counterproductive, so here I am. HOPING before the summer's over he's
called to become a FULL-time evangelist.. but maybe I've run off the
tracks a bit here.

So the only OTHER thing I guess I should mention before getting back to
the Christian academy, is that right AFTER I discovered I was about to
have some decent values instilled in me, I decided to run away. That very
night. I was on my way to Australia, but in the end it didn't work out
too well. So with all THAT out of the way, we now join our regularly
scheduled story.


Wednesday, June 8... I guess I might as well start at the beginning.
Which would be immediately after I was returned home, got my butt tore up
again and then discovered that I was STILL going to that Christian
academy whether I liked it or not. And if I EVER tried running away
again, he'd have my butt locked up in juvenile and I'd find out what
rough really was.

So the academy was a big change from Spring Creek Middle School and it
took some getting used to. I was in a class with eighteen junior high
students, seventh grade through ninth grade. Each class period was
initiated with the Pledge of Allegiance, a selected reading from the King
James version of the Bible and prayer. Five times a day they went through
this drill.

Every student had his or her own individual study space where he or she
could progress at their own pace. More or less. Because we only read text
books approved by Brother Furnier and if we were supposed to be in social
studies, then we'd best not be caught studying the literature book. Or
anything else. If a student needed help, then he or she quietly placed a
small replica American flag in the designated slot at the upper left
corner of his or her individual study space. Our teacher, (Sister Farrar)
must have walked five miles a day making sure we did not stray from the
approved course of study, sternly peering over our shoulders at the most
inopportune times, interrupted only by those small replica American flags
being quietly placed in their designated slots.

And when it was off to lunch, it was no talking, single file, eyes
forward, hands out of pockets, no slouching. Which took some getting used
to. So that first day I didn't have much appetite. I was just sitting
there staring at my food when Aaron came up, sat down across from me and
said, "Hey. I'm Aaron. You're new here, right?"

I nodded disinterestedly. Even though I couldn't help but notice that he
was really cute, I just assumed that he was also pretty much brainwashed.

But he didn't seem put off by my lack of interest. "So how you like this
place?"

Very quietly I hissed, "So far I HATE this place."

"Yeah, you and me both then" said Aaron.

Well, in that case, I guessed maybe I should get to know him better. Of
course when I found out he was only twelve (and a half) I had to sort of
keep my distance at first, but before very long I discovered no one else
at that place was openly rebellious except possibly Sharon Mattson. And I
didn't like her. So it wasn't long until me and Aaron started hanging out
quite a bit, especially after finding out he was there because HE'D been
caught smoking pot. Because of the mandatory drug screens, neither of us
was about to start up again, but we agreed we sure would if we could and
maybe in the summer that's just what we WOULD do. Of course at the time I
had no idea that I would be spending the summer up here and he had no
idea he'd be spending the summer with his grandparents up in Rome. But
I'm getting slightly ahead of myself again.

So I'll tell you when we became best friends. It was the first week of
February. Now every day after lunch we have Bible study. For this we do
not occupy our individual study spaces and progress at our own pace, no,
we instead bring our chairs up front, reverently and quietly arrange them
into a two-tiered semi-circle, listen attentively and then discuss the
wonderfulness of it all.

So I think we were in II Samuel. I'm pretty sure it was. But anyway, we
had reached King David. The Philestines had just defeated King Saul,
killed him and captured the sacred Ark of the Covenant. David became king
of Israel and soon enough he defeated the Philestines and recaptured the
sacred Ark. The only reason I'm telling you all this is so you'll at
least have an inkling of what I'm talking about. So we were discussing
the return of the Ark to Jerusalem which soon lead to the short, sad
story of Uzzah. You see, Uzzah and his brother were nice enough to supply
a new cart to transport the Ark back to Jerusalem. But when the Ark
reached the threshing floor of Nacon I think it was, the oxen drawing the
cart stumbled. The Ark was about to fall off the cart! And so thinking
fast (or possibly it was a reflex action, it probably was), Uzzah put his
hand against the Ark to keep it from falling off and verily, verily the
Lord was pleased.

Well, to tell you the truth, the Lord was NOT pleased, in fact, Uzzah was
struck DEAD right then and there. If you want to look it up, you can. I'm
fairly sure it's in II Samuel.

So I was just going to sit there and keep my mouth shut for a change, but
I guess Sister Farrar wanted me involved, so she asked me what I thought
the story meant.

I knew the Bible-believing answer because my mom used to read Bible
stories to me before I went to sleep, but since I didn't WANT to be
involved in that class, I just said, "I'm not sure."

Only Sister Farrar said I'd have to do a little better than that.

Oh right, I clean forgot. I was always supposed to address her as ma'am.
"I'm not sure ma'am" I said in a very respectful tone of voice.

She said, "Look boy, don't get smart with me or I'll slap your face!"

So of course that pissed me off but I still didn't say anything.

"Well, we're waiting, J.J." she said. And one thing about that lady, she
is very persistent.

And she waited and she waited and waited some more until finally I could
stand it no longer (and besides, if I didn't say something soon I was
going to be sent to the office anyway), so at last I said, "Well, if the
preacher trips coming down the aisle, I sure ain't going to try breaking
his fall or anything."

Then Aaron, who was sitting beside me, busted out laughing. Which almost
beyond a doubt would have got him sent off to the office as it was, but
after he stuck his palm out for a low-five, he DEFINITELY was. We both
got fifteen licks, but Aaron said he didn't care, it had been worth it,
so after all that we were almost inseparable. It wasn't long until I
hardly thought about him being almost a year and a half younger than me.
I mean that's not really a big deal anyway. And besides, he was
good-looking. And he was the same size as I was too.

So I started wondering if he'd started puberty. It pretty much looked
like he had, but since we didn't have regular p.e. where we dressed out,
I could only wonder. We weren't sleeping over at each other's houses or
anything like that, we just hung out.

Then he started helping me with my paper route almost every day and when
I was at that treatment center, he took over until I got back. And so it
wasn't long until we were often at each other's houses. Only he never
spent the night with me and I never had a chance to see him undressed.
Not until April 2rd, which was on a Saturday. Before then, there had been
times when we might've gone to the bathroom at the same time, or maybe
we'd take a piss out in the woods, but he always had his back to me and
you know, I couldn't exactly run around in front of him to take a look.
So I was getting VERY curious.

OK. Early Saturday afternoon, April 2rd, I was over at Aaron's. So he had
a bag of water balloons and he wanted to have a fight with them. Only I
didn't want to do that even though it almost immediately occurred to me
that this might make it necessary to change clothes afterwards.
Unfortunately, I knew nothing of his plans before I showed up at his
house, so I had no clothes to change into and to tell you the truth, it
was not a warm day. Gray, overcast, low-fifties and windy. Not a real
good day to get soaked. So see, I CAN postpone pleasure.

"It's too cold today" I said. "We'll do it once it gets hot. You want to
play some basketball?"

His uncle was the head custodian at this elementary school not too far
from his house. There was this old cracker box gym on campus. So about
anytime he wanted, he could borrow the keys because sometimes he helped
his uncle out.

But anyway, Aaron said, "Shit. I'm tired of basketball." But then he had
an idea. "OK, I'll play basketball on one condition. First we play
basketball, then we have a water balloon fight. Deal?"

"It's just too cold today" I repeated, "and I don't feel like walking
home with my clothes wet."

"Well, I was thinking we could go downstairs in the girl's bathroom and
have it there and we'll just do it in our underwear. How about that?"

Oh. Well... OK. And in case you're wondering, there really was nothing
perverse about using the girl's bathroom, since for one thing no girls
were going to use it on a weekend and more importantly, girls do seem to
be more refined than boys. Girls do not generally piss in the floor. Boys
do.

So we went over and played for awhile. That gym was a sweat box, so soon
enough we were hot and sweaty and so I said, "Well, let's go ahead and
have that damn water balloon fight."

"Well, let's play one more game" said Aaron.

"I thought you were tired of basketball" I said.

"I am, but I'm going to play one game in my shorts. You want to?"

Well... OK. It wasn't a very good idea though. Aaron was down to his
shorts before I finished getting my socks off and he dribbled the length
of the floor, missed a lay-up, rebounded and then returned to where I had
just pulled off my pants. "Maybe we ought to forget about basketball and
just go ahead and have our water balloon fight" he said.

"Chickened out?"

"Well, the doors might be locked but somebody could still come up and
look in. And I've got loose elastic. I start jumping around and I might
lose something" said Aaron. "You ready to go downstairs?"

We probably would've gotten blisters on our feet anyway. So we left our
clothes upstairs and entered the girl's bathroom where almost a hundred
water balloons were fully armed and ready and with little in the way of
opening ceremonies beyond "You ready?", "Yeah, I guess I'm ready", we
began hurling them at each other. I probably hit him with about as many
as he hit me with. Of course we were both very quickly soaked, but
actually his shorts stayed up fairly well. They did sag at the waist but
he kept yanking them back up before I got to see anything. His wienie
didn't flop out, although it looked like it could at any second. And by
then there was no doubt at all if he'd grown one, the contour of it
moving beneath his wet shorts was clearly outlined and I did glimpse his
balls partially exposed, or at least one of them. Looked like it was
coming along pretty good, too.

So I couldn't help it, I started getting hard. By the way, I was wearing
good underwear so everything was securely in place. And as for my
erection; well, there wasn't much I could do about it. Really, I didn't
hardly have time to think about it, being in the middle of a water
balloon fight and all, it was just stiff, that's all. I sure never
considered leaving the scene and Aaron never commented about it. I'll
admit at the very onset I tried to keep it turned away from him, but
there was no way to do that completely unless I turned my back and in a
water balloon fight turning your back is the same as a surrender. Except
you can turn your back whenever you throw your balloons in hand and then
race back to your stockpile to get more ammunition. That's OK.

On the battle raged and the floor became very wet indeed. It was smooth
concrete painted green and VERY slippery when wet. It's a wonder we
didn't kill ourselves, I have no idea how many times we landed on our
asses. Surely his penis must've flashed momentarily into sight when his
feet flew out from under him and down he went, but I never saw it, being
distracted by my own pratfall or a water balloon right in the face or
having my back turned as I was gathering up more balloons. It was always
something.

Well. I didn't know it at the time, but finally his supply of water
balloons was exhausted. My supply was dwindling fast, that I did know.
Anyway, I was racing back to what remained of my supplies when whoops, my
feet again flew out from under me. Down I went. Down he went beside me.
What was THIS? He was after MY balloons! No fair! So we grappled and slid
around on the wet floor. I pushed a balloon into his face and it broke.

"Glub!" he sputtered, then without warning, he pulled at the front of my
shorts, plopped a water balloon on my ERECT PENIS and busted it. He
busted the water balloon, I mean. For what it's worth, I THINK he meant
to jerk my shorts down real quick, plant the balloon, pull my shorts back
up and THEN bust the balloon, but those balloons are fragile things. Then
again, maybe not. Well, it hardly matters anyway. And maybe he wasn't
trying to touch my wienie and maybe he was, but whatever, he did. It felt
like an electric shock. A very wonderful electric shock.

"Oh shit, NOW you have DONE it!" I squeaked but he'd already scrambled to
his feet and with fiendish laughter was racing away. In frustration I
hurled my remaining two balloons. They splatted harmlessly against a
stall. He fled out into the hallway, the door slamming shut behind him.

"Shit!" I thought, "He's headed upstairs! He's going to get dressed!"

Only that wasn't the case. Between the girl's bathroom and the boy's
bathroom is a janitor's closet and in that closet was a sink and a faucet
and connected to that faucet was about thirty feet of water hose. His
uncle used it to hose down the floors. Well, just as I hit the door,
Aaron let me have it with that water hose, full force. It was awfully
cold. Naturally, my normal instinct would be to retreat, and I did, but
he was right behind me about to die he was laughing so hard and he wasn't
ABOUT to stop hosing me. He cornered me. Getting more than just a little
fed up, I spun around to face him and grab that damn hose. GLUB!! THEN
before I could get the water out of my eyes and nose and mouth, he stuck
it down the front of my shorts.

Only that was a bad move on his part, because it allowed me to get my
hands on the hose. Then he slipped. So the hose was all mine.

"You die Aaron!" I screamed.

It is hard to think straight when you're getting hit in the face with a
stream of cold water, I know. Well, he didn't flee out the door, he
instead fled toward the sinks and I quickly cornered HIM. And then I
hosed him down good. Right off I was intent on drowning him, but I just
happened to notice his shorts were sagging again. Pretty badly, in fact.
Well, he had his back to me, but it looked like he had a cute ass, (it
was about half uncovered), so I hosed those shorts right down to his
ankles. Not getting it in his face, he turned towards me, probably
intending to rush me. He didn't seem at all concerned about his shorts. I
guess not, because when he almost tripped on them, he just kicked the
things right on off.

He DID have hair! A little dark brown bush. And a big fat wienie. It was
about four inches long I guess. SOFT. By the way, he has blue eyes. Big
blue eyes. Damn! They are beautiful! Possibly it's a little late to be
mentioning his eyes though.

Whatever, I sprayed him in the face to drive him back, then I hosed his
midsection. I BLASTED that wienie. One time I had it going almost like a
pinwheel. Then naturally it began to stiffly bounce and bob as it
struggled to rise up. Which of course was enough to make me like gah gah
for a few moments, but then I got scared. I had made him get hard! NOW
what would he think? Shit! I was so fucking stupid! So I stopped hosing
him.

He said, "Do that again. It tickles!"

He didn't know what it MEANT to tickle like that. Up till then I had just
assumed that I was the only person on earth who didn't even know about
orgasms until I was past eleven and here he was past twelve and already
into puberty and had smoked pot and he STILL didn't know about them. Not
that getting high has anything to do with knowing about orgasms I don't
guess, but I just assumed if he was worldly enough for that, then surely
he knew all about sins of the flesh. Well, was he ever in for a surprise!

So there he stood seemingly not the least bit concerned that I could see
his big fat one sticking up in the air. I guess erect it had to be close
to seven inches. And him only twelve and a half! Holy SHIT!

But sadly, I am fast approaching the end of this part of the story.
Because Aaron said, "Well, are you just going to stand there running
water out into the hall, or are you... oh SHIT! SHIT!! The HALL! Shit,
J.J., the HALL!!!"

Startled, I directed the hose away from under the bathroom door as Aaron,
displaying a good deal more presence of mind than I, dashed out into the
hallway. Seconds later, my water was cut off.

Hearing no sound, I timidly ventured out into the hall and discovered it
awash. Aaron was sitting forlornly leaning back against the wall, his
arms locked around his knees and his above-average organ down below half
mast and slowly wilting. But it still looked fairly impressive. Only the
hall was flooded.

"Aaron! There any old towels, rags, ANYTHING in the closet?"

"Yes" said Aaron listlessly without moving, "but I'd really like to know
what good it'll do."

"Well fuck, we can put 'em up against the bottoms of the classroom doors
so no more water gets in", I said frantically if not grammatically. I was
at that moment frantically tossing things about in the closet, looking
for rags, towels, damn! ANYTHING!

"They're in this bag" he said sadly. I hadn't even heard him get up. "I
guess you know you're messing my uncle's closet up." By then his noodle
was completely limp and probably even less than four inches. As was mine.
Limp.

"We'll straighten it up later" I said. "Right now we've got to get that
water up!"

But we only had enough towels and rags for five doors. The rag bag being
empty, I asked, "You know where anymore are? Hey! What you doing?"

He was pulling my shorts off, actually. "We stick your's and mine down
there and we just might have it stopped" he said with great practicality.

"Well, go get your's then" I said.

So he did, then we hurriedly water vacced and mopped the hall, the
bathrooms and the supply closet. Only when we were finished with all that
did Aaron suggest maybe we should go upstairs and get our clothes back
on. With mixed emotions I had to agree with him. Then we buffed the hall,
only he thought it still looked like shit, so we had to strip the wax off
the entire floor, apply new wax and buff and buff and buff some more. All
because of a water balloon fight. Long about dark, his uncle knocked on
the back door.

"Hi Uncle Jay" said Aaron with remarkable nonchalance, "We decided we'd
rewax the hall. Does it look OK?"

"Well, bless your hearts" he said, "It does look a sight better than it
did. A whole lot better. It looks like you were just a little careless
when you mopped...", (in reference to the water stained classroom
carpets)... "but they'll dry out and nobody will ever know the
difference. Overall, you boys did a real good job. I wasn't expecting
this at all, but I sure do want you to know how much I appreciate it."
(Fortunately, we caught the water before it flooded more than about a
foot into the classrooms.)

That night I was awake a long time worrying about how Aaron might
reconsider the events just prior to our rewaxing the hall, but come
Monday morning, beyond a sly grin he acted like nothing had ever
happened. Of course I was sort of hoping he would mention that strange
tickling sensation he'd felt but after a couple of weeks I guessed he
wasn't going to. Of course I could've broached the subject myself, but as
mentioned before, I am a goddamn chicken shit.

But there were still a few more incidents. Like another water balloon
fight for instance. Just barely a week later. He was at my house Sunday
afternoon, April 10th and after we played Monopoly for awhile he
mentioned how he had another bag, and he wanted to use them up that very
afternoon.

"Can't" I said. "My old man would raise mortal hell. Shit, I can't hardly
do ANYthing on Sunday." Which was the truth.

"So he won't know. How's he going to know? We can do it in our underwear
again. We just won't mess with the water hose. So you want to?"

"Maybe" I said.

"What do you mean, maybe?"

"I mean I'm thinking about it, damn it."

"You ARE" said Aaron.

"Maybe" I answered.

"Oh come on. There's nothing to do around here" he said. "We won't make
THAT big a mess. Why not?"

"Let's just do it some other time" I said. But I was weakening.

"But now's perfect. Nobody will be around. You're not chicken are you?"

"No, I just don't want to."

"Well, why NOT?"

"Because my mom might wonder how my underwear got so wet." Which really
was highly unlikely, I mean my folks don't check my underwear all that
often, you know, but...well, hang in there, you're about to SEE why I
said that.

"So we'll just do it without our underwear then. You want to do that?"

"You mean NAKED?"

"Sure. Why not? You chicken?"

"Oh shit. If it'll get rid of those fucking water balloons, I will then.
Naked. Both of us. So you said it. Now are YOU chicken?"

"Let's go" he answered. So you see? THAT'S why I said that.

Once we started throwing the water balloons, I almost forgot about being
naked even if I hardly forgot about Aaron. I didn't get a boner though.
Nor did he.

I've heard that if you go to a nudist camp, right at first all that
nudity is likely to give you an erection, but it isn't long until the
novelty of it all wears off and you don't automatically pop up hard. Well
possibly, but that doesn't mean you get tired of seeing certain people.
And that sure was the case with Aaron. Aaron was CUTE.

He wasn't easy to figure out though. Like for instance, right after that
water balloon fight we were drying off and he started popping me with his
towel. He knew how to do that, but I never got the hang of it, I'm just
not the most coordinated person in the world. So I said, "Hey! Cut it
out!"

He instead popped me again and since he was laughing about it, I figured
he had no intention of stopping, so I guessed I'd just get his damn
towel. I waded right in, even though I got popped a couple more times,
once right on my dick. So I grabbed his arms and started trying to
wrestle the towel away from him. At first he resisted causing a good deal
of incidental body contact, but then all of a sudden he wanted ME to
stop. Who started this?

He said, "I'll leave you alone, I promise. Just let go of me."

"Let go of that towel then."

"I have to finish drying off. Now cut it out, please? I promise I won't
bother you anymore. OK?"

Oh shit. I really owed him a few red spots at the very least, but I felt
like I was about to get aroused.

"Well you'd BETTER. I MEAN it!" I said sternly. Then I let go and moved
away from him.

"Candy!" WHAP! Right on my butt. Then he ran.

Oh, but I COULD run. Seriously. And I could outrun him. So I caught him
before he reached the door, grabbed him around his chest with one hand
and smacked his ass with my other hand as hard as I could four times.
Which apparently was pretty hard.

"OK! Ouch! I quit! Ouch! I prom- Damn it, that HURT! I quit! OUCH!"

Then I shoved him back into the bathroom, zoomed across the hallway into
the classroom where our clothes were and locked the door. I kept him
locked out for a good ten minutes. I had to because soon as I started
smacking his bottom, I started getting hard. Well, I'm sorry, but I did.
I'm pretty sure he didn't see it though. And once I got dressed it was
OK.

Until I let him in, it was OK, because just as soon as I let him in, he
jumped on my back! And him still naked. Well OK then, I could also
wrestle pretty good, so before he could blink, I had him on the floor. I
almost touched him down there. I probably WOULD'VE in a few seconds, but
no sooner did I put him on the floor than he wanted to quit AGAIN. So I
let him up. I was getting shaky all over, so I guessed I'd better.

But it STILL wasn't over, for no sooner did he get his clothes on than he
was jumping on me again, and THIS time I swear, he tried to UNZIP my
pants and he was hard, I'm almost sure of it. So you know I grabbed
between his legs and sure enough before long he wanted to quit again. By
that time I really felt like unzipping his pants, pulling his dick out
and lifting him three or four feet off the floor. I guess that would have
smarted. But oh well, I didn't. I quit. Again.

I really did like him. And he liked me. I'm sure of that. So I wanted to
play around, but I wanted us to be best friends more, so I let him call
the shots, like if he wanted to wrestle, we'd wrestle and if he started
grabbing I'd grab back and if he wanted to stop, I'd stop. Sure, I was
hoping before long he'd go a bit further, but if he didn't, I guessed I
could live with it.

Well, the following few weeks I have no idea how many times we wrestled
around but while he often grabbed between my legs which would result in
my doing it back, he didn't attempt to unzip my pants again. He didn't
buy any more water balloons. He didn't wonder about strange tickling
sensations. He never even grabbed around long enough to give me an excuse
to CAUSE any strange sensations. I was about to give up hope. Maybe I
give up too easy. I suppose I do.

Tuesday afternoon May 9th after we got through with the paper route, we
went over to his house. His old man works second shift and his mom left
him a note saying she would be home around 7:30 and there was something
to eat on the stove. And he had better be home when she got back.

So we watched TV for awhile and then he started getting playful again,
like he jumped on my back and before long we were rolling in the floor.
Then he started grabbing between my legs again.

"Aaron" I said, "if you don't cut that out I'm going to yank your pecker
off and flush it down the commode!"

Naturally I hoped he WOULDN'T stop grabbing at me, but I sure wasn't
expecting him to reach down INSIDE my pants and give my BUSH a yank, I
didn't expect that at ALL. And he also brushed against my penis.

"Oh shit, now you've DONE it!" I said.

Well damn it, he yanked MY bush, so I guessed I could yank HIS bush. But
to do that, first I had to unfasten his belt and unsnap his pants. And
zip them down, because they were kind of tight. I was expecting him to
start in with the "Hey, let's cut it out" but I had decided that this
time I WASN'T going to stop until I at LEAST got even. But he didn't say
anything at ALL about quitting, in fact he put his hand into my pants
again and started YANKING on my dick. When we first started wrestling, I
wasn't stiff, but by the time he reached in the second time, you BET I
was. And so was he. I wanted to see it, so I just yanked his underwear
down and grabbed it. What a rush THAT was! Oh man! Then he started
pulling my pants down. So I started pulling his down. But he still wasn't
yelling at me to cut it out, he was laughing. I could not BElieve it and
my ears were ringing but neither one of us was trying to get our pants
back up, since I was trying to get his off and he was trying to get mine
off. I knew beyond a doubt he had every intention of pulling them
completely off when he started in on my shoes. Well, by the time he had
my shoes off, I'd yanked his pants AND shoes off; I mean his shoes were
still stuck in his pants legs. Then I went for his shirt. I didn't want
to rip it, which I would've unless I could get his hands unlatched from
my pants, so damn, I just kicked them off one leg, he yanked the other
leg clear, then I got his arms up and removed his shirt. Then he latched
onto my dick again, and this time he was really and truly PULLING on it.
So all at once, without even thinking about it, I started pulling on his.

But then all at once, he went "Hey, J.J. Time out a second, time out,
OK?"

So I KNOW what you're thinking at this point. I bet you're thinking,
"Shit! Are they going to chicken out AGAIN? I am getting sick and fucking
TIRED of this!" Something like that, huh?

Yeah, well, I was sort of thinking along those lines myself. Although one
very hopeful sign was that he HADN'T let go of me. So of course I hadn't
let go of his either. We just stopped pounding the living shit out of
them, that's all. And in reply to his time out request, I said, "Yeah,
what?"

"It's gonna feel a lot better if we go slower, you know that don't
you?"

And I don't know, maybe that's the best rush I've experienced up till
now. There've been some really good ones, but this just might have topped
EVERYTHING. And it was really WAS great. It was AWESOME! So I guess you
might be wondering why I don't seem to be going into a great deal of
detail, beyond it's being awesome.

I'm not going into all that much detail, because... well, that evening
when I was walking back home I was feeling pretty great, I mean I was on
cloud nine. Almost. But even so, there was this nagging doubt. It was
because of how Aaron was acting after we'd both shot our loads. (So yes,
he CAN shoot off. Well, I know I'D been wondering. I figured he COULD, I
just didn't know if he HAD yet.) But apparently it came as no surprise to
him. And yes, by now I could as well. Every day I could. Just hadn't ever
felt quite that good, you know. But the thing was, after we'd caught our
breath, he was acting, well, I don't  know, like we'd done something
wrong. So I was worried. I mean shit, I knew all about fundamentalist
guilt-trips, but somehow it never occured to me that it would bother HIM.
Although it really should have come as no surprise. So anyway, I HOPED it
would continue, I HOPED we'd go a lot further, and what the hell, I often
enough felt guilty after even jerking myself off, but it sure didn't stop
me from going at it again.

But the next morning before school he came up to me and asked, "Hey, J.J.
You're not going to tell anybody about what we did last night are you?"

"Well shit no" I answered. "What, you think I'm crazy or something? I
mean, you know how it is, everybody would think we were queers or
something. But as long as if we're the only ones to know about it... I
mean we were just playing around anyway, right?"

"Well, the thing is I don't WANT to be queer. ... So I don't know, maybe
we shouldn't do that anymore."

And we haven't. So we WERE good friends, and come next fall we still
might be, but somehow I sort of doubt it.

So I wrote about it because for awhile, it was really great. And Aaron
was really cool. I guess he still is. And I HOPE... well, that's about it
really. I hope.

P.S. I have to deal with this fundamentalist crap all the time. But at
any rate, I guess I might feel a little worse about it all if it had been
me instigating everything. Meaning I SHOULD feel better seeing as how
Aaron started it. Like always, I was too much of a chicken shit. So how
come I STILL end up feeling bad about it?


Comments more than welcome. jjjanicki@gmail.com
And really, it'll get better. Trust me on this.