A Work of Art
Not a journal
Sixth Entry
I skipped writing about our initiation into the marching band. It’s a little hard to write about, so I put it off. But if this semi-sorta-blog is going to be factual and real, and if the point of this is to determine if I can write and enjoy doing it, well, the initiation was real, it wasn’t all bad, and it’ll be a good learning experience for me to try to turn it into an interesting tale. So, here goes.
Another quite talented, above-average player who’d been in my middle-school band with me was a kid named Isaac Borrows. He was a trumpet player. I’d never gotten to know him, hadn’t even ever spoken to him, in fact. Why? Because he was the most effeminate kid you’ve ever seen. All the jokes and slurs about gay kids could have easily been applied to him, and I didn’t want any guilt by association. I stayed well away from him. Not that I felt guilty or ashamed about being gay myself. I just wasn’t ready to face the consequences of coming out or even being questioned about it.
Other kids were much braver than I was, because Isaac was a popular kid even though he was openly gay. He was funny as hell and didn’t mind the teasing he got, which wasn’t much because he handled it so well. He was much better at deflection than I would have been. Confidence makes all the difference when you’re in middle school. He had it; I didn’t. He loved being the center of attention, and he knew how to get it by playing the part, by accentuating his gayness to the extreme, and adopting an anything-goes, no-limits attitude.
I’d wondered how he’d be in high school. Kids are different there, and the juniors and seniors are a lot bigger than the freshmen. Lots of the sophomores are, too; many kids have a growth spurt the summer between their first and second year of high school. Freshmen still have a lot of little kid in them when entering the entirely new world of high school, a place with a new ethos and new rules. How would Isaac be accepted? Could he fit in?
Because the football season for high-school kids started right at the beginning of the school year, the team began practices a month before that. The marching band began practicing two weeks before the school opened.
Because Mr. Landry was who he was and had the reputation of being a serious musician, which he’d earned, he didn’t direct the marching band. That was left to a senior who’d been part of the band for the prior three years; this would be his fourth. Mr. Landry handpicked the guy to do it, and I’d heard he always picked a mature guy who wouldn’t let the new-member initiation get out of hand. The initiation was an integral part of marching band but was mostly planned and run by the sophomores and only overseen by the senior who sat in on the meetings but was there mostly as an advisor. Of course, as Mr. Landry had nothing whatsoever to do with the marching band and never attended any of the practices, the senior did have a free hand.
The senior guy running it this year, Mario Esposito, may have been mature enough, but he also had a strong sense of humor and adventure. Everyone liked him. Everyone, that is, except us freshmen. He looked at us like a buyer for KFC looked at a flock of plump chickens. We didn’t like that look at all.
It didn’t work in our favor that the initiation was being planned right after the assembly where boys having an excess of unnecessary modesty was discussed. Right after we’d heard the school was hoping to do something to correct that.
Mario didn’t just advise the sophomores this time. He alone decided the initiation should help the school with its goal of modesty reduction this year. He had a lot of problems to solve to do what he envisioned, of course. We were freshmen and most of us were 14, decidedly underage if the legality of what we were doing ever came into question. He decided the way around most of his problems was to not tell us or anyone else other than the involved sophs what was what until the last minute. That way it would be easier to suppress foreknowledge of what we’d be doing. Explaining afterward was much easier than getting approval in advance. So, keeping it all close to his vest precluded some of his problems, and others he simply decided to ignore.
There was one seriously difficult issue to address, however. The band was a mixed group, boys and girls, and while the boys outnumbered the girls, it wasn’t by a large margin. Treating a bunch of young, sexually excitable boys the same way as a group of giggling, nubile young girls just had to lead to more trouble than he wanted to deal with after the fact. Firstly, the girls’ parents were certain to object, even if it was after the fact, and maybe even a few of the girls themselves would raise a fuss. Perhaps the police would get involved. Maybe he’d be expelled. How to work that out was a conundrum, but he really, really wanted to do what he wanted to do. He was transfixed. He’d be a legend in the annals of the band if he could pull this off. So, he brought his lieutenants in, and they kicked around what to do, and they worked out a solution.
He was smart enough to realize that what he had going for him was that we all wanted to fit in. Kids our age, newcomers to a school, all have a prime motivation to be part of the group, not outsiders. So, when Mario announced on Friday that we’d be practicing naked the next day, there was a lot of looking around and waiting for someone to complain, but no one did. I was shocked that none of the girls said a word, only to discover later that they’d been spoken to privately just before we were told about this en masse.
The idea tickled us as well as scared the shit out of us at the same time. We were young and adventurous, and it wouldn’t just be one person naked: all of us initiates would be naked, we’d all be in it together, and so the embarrassment shouldn’t be so bad, and it might be fun; it absolutely would be an escapade to talk about for weeks afterwards. It would be private, no onlookers, just us on the field. We’d all talk afterwards about how brave we’d all been, and we’d be the excited talk of the school for a time. Everyone would be talking to us, asking what it felt like. All in all, it didn’t seem like it would be too bad and was very exciting to look forward to.
Our schedule was set for us to practice marching on the football field after classes three times during the school week and every Saturday. As this was early in the year, we freshmen were still learning the basics of marching in formation, keeping our lines straight, raising our knees to the approved height on every step, our feet landing toe-first on every step—crap like that. The strictly marching drills were without instruments. Mario told us on that Friday that the next day would be a marching-only, no-instruments drill. That was when he unloaded the nude marching bit for all freshman band members, and that it would be our initiation. As we were told this the day before, we only had that evening to think about it.
Mario had realized he could be in deep shit if he made this mandatory. So, what he told us was that participation was voluntary, but anyone refusing to take part wouldn’t be in the marching band. He also said if we opted out, we’d probably be called chickens and prudes and worse as word got out naming those who had refused to join in.
We weren’t to tell our parents or anyone else. That was part of being in the band and the initiation.
Saturday, fortunately for us boys, was a warm, sunny day. I’d heard some of the boys talking about being worried it might be cold, and cold would produce shriveling where they didn’t want to be shriveled with girls around watching, if you catch my drift. We were a very uncertain bunch, not sure how this would go. A lot of the boys were worrying aloud about getting hard, and the embarrassment that would cause. Would the girls giggle and point? Would Mario allow that? No one had any experience with anything like this. I’d seen videos of naked communal bike rides and some parades, Portland and San Francisco being on point with those, and of course kids like us cavorting on nude beaches so knew this wasn’t unprecedented, although I’d seen nothing like this involving just high-school freshmen.
We gathered in the band room where Mario gave a short speech about the point of this being to establish a very tight-knit group, then told us all to undress. Boys and girls alike.
I did it. But then, I wasn’t worried about the girls seeing me or me seeing girls. I was a bit concerned about the several cute boys in the group, but I made sure I didn’t look at any of them. Very long.
I did look at the girls because I wanted to see if they’d really take it all off. I thought if they did, Mario was going to be in deep shit, because word would certainly get out. Mr. Landry and the principal might be in hot water, too. Boys giving up their modesty was one thing. But girls seeing them and doing it, too? I didn’t think adults would be quite so happy about that.
And too, the school was only interested in reducing the modesty in boys. There’d been no talk of anything like that involving the girls. So Mario would be way out of line and have no plausible excuse for having the girls strip. Initiate, yes. Initiate naked? No.
I watched and saw the girls removing clothing. I also then saw that they had bathing suits on under their street clothes. Not just bathing suits, either, but bikinis. Many of those were extremely skimpy. Girls these days want the same freedoms boys have. If the boys were going to show skin, I was sure many of the girls thought their rights were being abridged if they couldn’t do the same. I don’t know how many of them would have liked to skinny-march along with us, but certainly a few. But they’d all been told that was a non-starter and that no one wanted to be expelled.
We undressed down to our skin and looked at the girls, and they didn’t show any reluctance in looking at us. Mario was quick to get us moving, to get us outside. I guess he thought there’d be less sexual tension if everyone was marching. He didn’t want rampant sex. He did like the thought of the boys being embarrassed. That was his purpose. That would make an excellent, memorable initiation.
It was a good thing we weren’t carrying instruments because a number of boys were using both hands to cover up. It was apparent that some of those boys were hard. The girls were having a great time walking as sexily as they could and seeing the effect they were having on the boys.
The naked boys were all freshmen, and there was a wide variety of penises with freshmen boys. Most 14-year-old girls are pretty far along in breast development. Some have developed quite substantially; some haven’t become busty but still are no longer flat-chested. But boys? There are a lot of boys that age that aren’t too far along, puberty-wise. Some have started their penile development, but some haven’t. Some have heavy pubic bushes; some are hardly hirsute. I found the somewhat underdeveloped boys just as interesting as the developed ones, but I really felt for them. Most of those didn’t have hard-ons but were part of the crowd with hands covering their private regions; they weren’t hard because they were too embarrassed. I could see their embarrassment and felt a great deal of pride in them for having the courage to do this. They must have felt the need to be part of the group was more important than their incipient embarrassment.
I tried to avoid much looking at the boys. I tried to ogle the girls as a defense mechanism. Some were showing an awful lot of skin. Didn’t excite me at all, so I didn’t have to worry about springing one by focusing my attention there.
We were sort of practicing marching, loosely because too many minds were elsewhere, when there was a commotion that seemed to draw everyone’s eyes. I looked where everyone was looking, and, well, it was hard to believe, but there he was. Isaac. Sporting as hard an erection as you’d ever hope to see and making no bones about it (if I can get away with saying that). No, he was marching proudly, sticking not out as much as up, with a great smile on his face. He was prancing more than marching, hopping even, making a spectacle of himself, enjoying the eyes upon him. I didn’t have to wonder why he was so hard with all the girls around; it was because he wasn’t looking at any of them. He was looking at the boys, mostly at the cute ones I’d been keeping my eyes off.
Remember when I said the popular view seemed to be that I was rather attractive? Well, guess who Isaac was looking at the most? Yeah, right. And when I saw that and saw his boner bigger than life, I knew I was in trouble.
I have to admit something here. I’m fairly well endowed. When Toby said I’d got the looks and he’d got everything else, I don’t think he’d realized at that point that no, he didn’t get everything. He wasn’t body shy, so I’d seen him nude often, even at our current age. I’d made sure he’d never seen me. The fact was, he was very normal for his age. I was plus normal.
I was happy with my size. It wasn’t extraordinary like some of the boys who make those videos I’m not supposed to see because I’m too young, but I compare well with those who aren’t enormous, the more-than-normal, kind-of-large ones. And I’d now seen my schoolmates in the swimming pool, so I knew where I stood, comparatively. Let’s put it this way: I’ve heard that gay men tend to be larger than straight men on the average. I had no way of knowing if that were true or not, but, if it were, when I was included in the mix, I wouldn’t be lowering the mean.
But now I had a problem. Isaac was cute himself. Or good-looking might be a better way to put it. He wasn’t classically cute. But he was handsome, and carrying himself as he did with great confidence and flair just made him more attractive. And he did have a very nice boner. But he was staring at me and smiling lasciviously.
All eyes were on him because of the way he was acting, not covering up, not hiding himself. In fact, he was flaunting it. I didn’t know what to do, and thankfully, I didn’t have to do anything. One of Mario’s lieutenants came up, took Isaac by the arm and whisked him back into the band room. Whew! The excitement I’d felt and the growth I was starting to experience both wilted just in time with him gone.
The Saturday practices were supposed to go two hours. That day, this one went twenty minutes. Some of the boys and girls just stopped marching and instead were standing talking to each other and ignoring Mario’s whistle and instructions. They were having too good a time enjoying this novel adventure, looking each other over and getting to know each other better. Much better. Some of the boys had dropped their hands, evidently liking the girls being able to see what they had. There were a lot of half-hard-ons being displayed. A couple of freshman girls managed to lose their bra tops. Mario knew when he’d lost the group. He called it a day.
I know, I know, this is supposed to be a factual reporting, and there have to be many disbelievers reading this. But it actually occurred just as I’ve reported it. You’ll have to trust me on this: it did. If you want further proof, there was a bootleg video made, but as far as I know, the original was confiscated before any copies were made, and Mario has that and isn’t showing it to anyone. The rumor is, Mario had set up the recording, thinking he might need proof that nothing untoward had happened. Then something did happen that would get everyone in trouble—Isaac had happened, and then there’d been the wholesale usurping of the practice by some horny boys—and so Mario thought it best if there wasn’t any record of the day’s event. But who knows, maybe there is a copy floating around. There are rumors about that, too.
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Isaac didn’t get in trouble. How could he when no one was supposed to know what had happened and when what actually had happened hadn’t been his fault and merely a situation that had grown beyond his control? But he had become famous, and he loved that. He was gay, effeminate, and liked people looking at him. He wore his gayness proudly, and I couldn’t help but feel a bit envious of him. But we are who we are, and his way wasn’t mine. I didn’t like people looking at me and took pains to avoid it.
Still, when he came up to me in the hall during the next week, I was happy to speak with him. He spoke to everyone, and I realized if I was speaking with him, it wouldn’t automatically paint me as gay. I’d worried about that before, but it now was in the past.
“You’re Artie, right?”
“Yeah, Isaac. Uh, that was some show you put on Saturday. Where’d you get the cajones to do that?”
He laughed. “That’s the benefit of being out and flamboyant. Everyone sort of expects it. Guys like you, you have to hide it. I have a lot more fun.”
I took a half step back. “Whata you mean, ‘guys like me’?”
“Oh, come on.” He grinned at me. “I saw you boning up, watching me. Why’d you think I was doing that? I was hoping you’d notice and get hard. You would have, too. That’s certainly suggestive, if not proof positive.
“Anyway, I was wondering if you’d like to come over to my place this afternoon after school. No one’ll be there but us. We’ll have a great time. I guarantee it. And don’t worry. I’m very discreet. I’m out but know that most of the gay kids at school aren’t. I couldn’t have any fun if I let anyone know who my playmates were; they’d stop being my playmates, and the ones I hadn’t had a chance with yet wouldn’t accede to my blandishments. Look, you have to be horny. We’re all horndogs at this age. So, how ’bout it?”
“You talk funny.”
“Yeah, I know. Part of my charm. My vocabulary is just like my dick—if you’ve got it, flaunt it.”
I think I blushed. This guy was too over the top for me. But he was right about one thing: I certainly was horny. Always was. And he was inviting me over to his house for something I was sure to like. He’d be discreet. It would just be sex, no strings attached. Isn’t that the best kind at fourteen?
I wasn’t attracted to him emotionally or romantically. Sexually, that was a different matter. I felt a great attraction to TJ, and those encounters were certainly romantic. I could fall in love with TJ; perhaps I was already falling. I had the feeling he felt the same about me. But doing things with another boy? Did I want to? Maybe learn new things to try? Experience the novelty of sex with someone who was basically a stranger? Well, yes, I did. I realized I did want to.
TJ and I did the things we knew, but neither of us was terribly inventive. I had to think Isaac was more experienced, and I might learn things from him that would be good to know. So, I said yes.
I went home with him that afternoon. We went to his room and undressed. He wasn’t as flamboyant when alone with me but certainly was confident in what he did. I did learn new things. TJ and I had not done much more than rub against each other, play with each other, stroke each other, and of course all sorts of kissing. On the lips and other places, although not below the waist. The latest innovation we’d discovered was made possible because I’d been brave enough to ask my dad to buy me some lube. He’d said sure and bought me a tube of K-Y jelly. We really liked using that, and I’d gotten the idea of putting a good coating on both my hands, then forming them together into a tube shape and holding that down on my pelvis and letting TJ lie on top of me and—well, you get the picture. We’d just started doing that and believe me, it was a great success.
Isaac showed me what oral sex was like. I wasn’t sure I wanted to do that to him. It seemed very, very personal. As soon as I felt what it was like to be on the receiving end, I knew this was something I had to try with TJ. I’d have no reluctance with him on either side of the action. With Isaac, I only tried the receiving half. He didn’t object; he’d had playmates before, he said, that were as hesitant as I was, and he enjoyed the part he was playing with me as much as the other, and it was perfectly okay with him if I waited until I was ready for the rest.
Let me tell you, if you’ve never had a blowjob from a trumpet player, you don’t know what you’re missing. Trumpet players are very experienced in using their tongues and lips to produce various effects on their axe. Two techniques they’ve practiced and have down pat are flutter tonguing and lip trills. Think about that. Enough said.
He was very good at other stuff besides using his tongue and lips. When he started running his hands over my bottom, I let him know that was a bridge too far for me to cross yet, and he backed off. But the rest was an education. A very happy one. Good thing I have a strong heart. It was beating away like mad for over an hour.
I went home very satisfied and thinking about my next rendezvous with TJ. He was going to be the one I’d practice my flutter tongue with. He’d be my first try with a lip trill. I had the feeling I’d need lots and lots of practice to get good. As any musician hears growing up, you’ll only be as good in performance as you become in practice.