We swam in the cool, clear water for a while, and then, being athletic boys, began roughhousing a bit. It started with a water fight, slapping water at each other and quickly exploded as I jumped on Jordan and dunked him. He came up sputtering and laughing and then returned the favor. That resulted in a lot of bumping and shoving and dunking which of course meant lots of body contact. Which was why we were both now semi-hard as we tiredly made our way back up onto the grass.
We both noticed but neither remarked about it. “Let’s sit under that tree,” I suggested, pointing at a nearby oak. “We probably washed all the sunscreen off. There’s enough shade there we don’t have to worry about burning as we dry off.”
“Good idea. Don’t suppose you thought to bring towels.”
I shook my head. “Nope. I knew the lake was here but wasn’t sure you’d want to swim, you being as modest as you are and all.”
He gave me a look, then grinned. “I’ve just been following your lead. You’re the modest one.”
“Hardly! Who was naked first today? Huh? Huh?”
“Oh, I’m sure you just wanted me to see your boner and had to strip off fast before it went away.”
“Sure. Like it’s gone away now.” I had good reason to say that. Talking about it and watching his erection growing as we talked had caused me to swell, too. We were both hard again, and neither one of us was covering up.
“Well, you do have a nice one. I can see why you want to show it off.”
“I’m not showing it off,” I said, trying to sound disgusted and affronted at the idea but failing because I kept grinning. I didn’t know why I was enjoying this banter so much. I think part of the reason was because I was liking looking at him. I’d seen some porn, of course. What boy my age hasn’t? So, I’d seen guys with hard-ons, but they were on a small laptop screen. This boy in front of me was in the flesh. Much, much different. And with the two of us being hard and alone and outside, there seemed to be electricity in the air. What was going to happen next? I had no idea. What was happening right now was more than enough to deal with.
I was, in truth, glad to have someone looking at me when I was hard. No one ever had before, and I was proud of how I looked, though I don’t think I was in any way remarkable. But it was like he was seeing the real me. No secrets here.
He didn’t answer me, just grinned. Man, oh man. I was flustered, but, unsure of what I was feeling other than a great deal of sexual excitement, I decided the best thing to do would be to change the subject and the atmosphere.
“Let’s get under that tree,” I said, and grabbed my backpack and took out the ground cloth again. I walked into the shade and spread out the cloth. He helped me lay it flat; we set our shoes in the corners, though there wasn’t enough breeze to disturb it.
I sat down, and he did, too. Some of the sexual excitement was gone, but the atmosphere was still electric. I wasn’t sure what to say. I took quick glances at him and saw him doing the same with me. I did look to see if he was still hard. He was. I was, too. We both had the resilience of youth, and what would come next was on both our minds.
He broke the silence. “You remember what I said about never having done anything with a boy, about being too scared someone would find out? I’ve always wanted to. Just like I’ve wanted to talk about the boys I’ve crushed on and the feelings I had. You let me do that yesterday. It was wonderful.
“I know you’re straight. But straight boys often relieve some of their urges with other boys. Even boys as old as we are do it. You were so good to talk to me about crushes and let me do the same. I don’t suppose . . . I . . . I don’t know how to ask.”
“You want to do things with me?” My heart was beating a mile a minute, and my breathing was quick and shallow to match it.
He looked down, then raised his eyes to mine. “More than anything,” he said.
“You’re right, I’m not gay, but I’ve had sex with someone—if mostly just touching counts as sex—and you haven’t, and that doesn’t seem fair. I don’t see any problem with helping you out. Just as long as we leave asses out. I don’t want to do anything like that.”
His grin was matched by wide-open eyes now. He scooted over next to me and touched my arm. I shivered at the touch. He slipped his hand up and down my arm. I immediately got a huge case of gooseflesh. He laughed.
“Let me warm that up,” he said in a voice I didn’t recognize, and scooted over to face me. We were both cross-legged, and he positioned himself so our knees were pressed together. He leaned toward me and used both hands to run up and down both of my arms.
I think I groaned. I’d never experienced anything to compare to this. It was just my arms being rubbed, but so much more.
He continued that, then held both my arms halfway between my elbows and shoulders and pulled me toward him. He kept pulling and fell onto his back, and I was on top of him.
We were face to face, about six inches apart. I was looking into his eyes and he into mine. We stayed like that for what seemed forever, and then he raised his head and kissed my lips. It was a brief kiss, and then he lowered his head to the ground cloth again, and I’d swear he spoke to me with his eyes. “Kiss me,” they said, and I did.
I’d kissed Jessica countless times. It had never felt like this. I’d felt very little emotion kissing her. This kiss, though . . . it had emotion and passion and caused sensations throughout my body that I hadn’t known were possible.
When we stopped, we were both gasping for breath. It was only then I realized we both had been thrusting against each other with our hips. I realized it because stopping kissing hadn’t stopped that.
Then he groaned. It was a deeper and more heartfelt groan than I’d given him. I knew why he was doing it. I was on the edge, and he had to be, too.
“Stop!” I said and lifted myself off so that our hips were no longer together.
“No!” he shrieked.
“Yes!” I said, just as violently. “I don’t want this to end so quickly. It feels too good for that. Let’s make it last a little longer.”
He was still pushing his hips up at mine, trying for contact again, but gradually he slowed and stopped. I looked at his face and couldn’t believe it; he grinned again! “Do you have any idea how close I was?”
“Yeah. Me, too. On the brink! That’s why I stopped. I want to try other things.”
“Me, too,” he said, copying me, and then laughed. I loved his laugh.
I rolled off him and lay next to him. I reached down and took his hard-on in my hand. I didn’t stroke it. If he’d been ready a few minutes ago, it wouldn’t take much to bring him to that point again and over the top. I had to be careful.
He reached for me as well. We held each other, and I rolled onto my side. He followed suit, and we were facing each other again. I kissed him, wanting to again experience the feelings that had given me before. He kissed back with great passion. I felt his tongue on my lips and opened up gratefully. Jessica had never liked this; she’d mostly kept her mouth closed while we kissed. This had to be the first time for Jordan, and it was obvious from the noises he was making that he loved it.
We battled for tongue supremacy and both won. We spent a great deal of time doing that and never let go of what we were holding in our hands.
When the need to breathe reasserted itself, the need to take deep breaths, we pulled apart. He sat up. “I want to do this. I’ve dreamed of doing it.” With that, he moved down my body. I could see what was coming and held my breath. Jessica had said she wanted to do this, but the times she’d said it, to me they had sounded like things she was supposed to do, not something she wanted to do because I’d love it and she’d enjoy it. They had been more just statements, flat and rather emotionless, like much of what she said and how she acted.
I needed to stop thinking about Jessica.
When he put his mouth over me, touched me with his tongue, wet me with his saliva, when I felt his soft, moist inner cheeks on the tip of my hard-on, I did more than moan. I clenched my fingers into fists, grabbing at the ground cloth. Then I did moan. Long and deep.
It was only moments before I said, “Uh-oh. Jordan, I can’t stop. I’m there. Get off it. Hurry. Hurry!”
He didn’t. He did raise his eyes to me, a look of wonder in them, and got more vigorous with his tongue, and suddenly, holding back was futile. No stopping.
It might have been the best it had ever been for me. I was completely washed out, simply exhausted afterwards. I lay like a limp rag. An overused and now shredded one.
Minutes passed, and then I propped myself up on my elbow. “That was . . . no, I can’t put it in words. You did that? You, in your mouth? What was it . . . ?”
I was having trouble talking. My brain seemed a bit dazed. I could still see, however. See him smiling beatifically. See him gazing at me with a look I’d never seen before on his face.
“Thank you, David,” he said, softly and wondrously. “I know you were just letting me do that to please me. It was fantastic. Thank you so much for allowing me to do that.”
“Bullshit,” I said, sounding hoarse. “I let you do that because I wanted it, too, and it had to be better for me than you. But we’re not stopping now. What kind of a friend would I be to get up, get dressed and walk home at this point? I’d be no friend at all. Besides, I’m just as curious as you were.”
I was surprised to see he was still half hard, but that just made it easier. I sat up and pushed him onto his back. I reached over and gave him only three strokes before he was fully engaged again.
“No, David,” he gasped as I lowered my head. “You don’t have to.”
“I want to,” I said, and I did. I had no idea why, but I did, and I was past any overthinking. He was there, he was beautiful, and he was hard. Without another thought, I took him in my mouth.
This was certainly a different feeling. I knew I hadn’t wanted to go down on Jessica. I had no reluctance at all to do it with Jordan. I’d think about that later. Right then, I put my mind to giving him the most pleasure I could. Somehow, that came instinctively, probably aided by what he’d just done, but also from an intimate knowledge of what felt good. I did everything I could think of, and soon he was giving me the same warning I’d given him.
Did I want to taste him? Well, why not? He’d done me. It would be rude not to return the favor, and in any case, I was curious. I’d never had the courage to taste my own. Somehow, after the great feelings of jacking off had abated, the urge to taste it wasn’t nearly as strong as it had been moments earlier, and doing it at that point seemed a little icky, and so I’d never done it. Tasting him when he was so excited—when I was excited again—just seemed natural, somehow. And not a bit icky.
So, I didn’t pull off, and he finished in much the same condition I had been. I watched him trying to recover and then did what also seemed natural. I leaned down and kissed him again.
We walked back the same way we’d come, back to the hill, up to the top, then down the front side and across the grassy plain to the woods where we’d left our bikes. All the way back, for some reason or other, I didn’t talk. I was happy, languishing in what had occurred, but confused, too. My sense of self was disturbed. I needed time to think, and walking gave me that, yet I didn’t seem to want to think at all, just exist. Simply existing right then was perfect.
I was very conscious of Jordan walking next to me. Perhaps he picked up my mood and was silent, or perhaps he felt something of what I felt and didn’t feel like talking either. So, we were both silent, but it was a communal silence. I was very aware of him next to me, and I’m sure he knew I was there, too.
When we got to the woods and then our bikes, he put a hand on my shoulder. “David, I have to tell you something. I should have told you before, before we . . . I should have told you before. I feel I took advantage of you. I’ll hate if you think that, but I have to tell you anyway.”
“Tell me what?”
“You have a right to know. I have feelings for you, really strong feelings. Not just a crush that’ll be gone soon. This is much stronger, much deeper than that. I haven’t ever been in love with anyone so don’t know if that’s what I’m feeling, but it could be that. Probably is that. So what we just did, it was boyish experimenting for you, just trying out sex to see what it was like with another boy. For me, it was so much more. I was verifying my feelings. It wasn’t fair of me to do anything more than you were doing, but there was no way around that for me. It wasn’t frivolous fun for me. It was making love to the boy I loved. It has to be love. It’s too strong to be anything else.”
He was meeting my eyes, and I’d never seen such intensity, such depth of focus, from anyone I’d spoken to before. It was as though he was looking into me and touching my soul.
“I know you’re not gay, David. You don’t love me. You had fun. I made love. I hope you aren’t too angry. And you’ll never have to do it again. You probably proved to yourself that you’re straight.”
He stopped. He looked really sad. He looked like he might cry.
I took his hand in mine, faced him, and took a last look into his eyes and then dropped mine. Now I was the shy one, and this was hard. “Jordan, I’m mixed up right now. I was sure I was straight. No, that’s not right, and I need to be honest. I think I had convinced myself I was straight. I wanted to be straight. I wasn’t allowing myself any chance to be gay. But being with you before we did what we just did, I was having feelings I kept pushing aside, not letting myself think about them. Then, today . . . this hasn’t been like any day I’ve ever had before.
“Just eating lunch with you on the hill, my heart was racing. I was looking forward to skinny-dipping with you, but my excitement was mostly the thought of seeing you naked. Of you seeing me naked. Of . . . of what that might lead to.
“All the time that I was letting myself imagine those things, another voice was nagging me, telling me not to think those things, to remember I was straight. That voice kept reminding me of Jessica. But thinking of her didn’t make me happy. Thinking of you made me happy.”
I was talking a lot. Probably too much. But I’d started and seemed to have too much to say, like a dam bursting and the withheld water rushing out. Like I was repressed no longer.
“Then at the lake, in the lake and after, I’ve never before felt the feelings I had then. You know, because you felt them, too. We were together, and we were both enjoying the same things the same way. If you were feeling and expressing love, then I was doing so, too. We were both consumed with making the other happy, and doing that, I was happier than I’d ever been before.
“I still have to think about this some more, I’m still confused, but I don’t regret what we did, and there’s no way you should be apologizing for anything. I think we’re going to do this again. And maybe I won’t be so confused then.”
He was looking at me like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. I smiled at him then leaned in and kissed him. Just that fast, his arms were around me, and mine around him, and the kiss was as passionate as I’d ever felt. There are all kinds of kisses. A grandmother’s kiss, a baby kiss, a first kiss, a goodbye kiss, a wife’s kiss to her man going off to war—there are even more. This kiss was passionate, full of yearning, and for me, recognition, and it went on and on.
After some time, when we were both hard again, we finally stopped. I had to breathe deeply again, because the air in the woods didn’t seem to have enough oxygen in it.
I unlocked the bikes, and we walked them out of the woods. We rode slowly, in no hurry to get back to my house. We were side by side and could talk.
“When did you start falling in love with me?” I asked, curious about how that could have happened. Jessica hadn’t loved me, nor I her. No one my age had loved me other than my parents, and that was not this kind of love. I was still wrapping my mind around him loving me. I was me, and not a very lovable kid. I thought I was a good kid, a kid who tried to do the right thing, but not necessarily lovable.
He laughed. “Easy. When you wanted to take a swing at me.”
“Huh?”
“When we first met. I noticed you right away. You have a very unique look. You aren’t a cookie-cutter sort of guy, one of the dozens who are just variations on the same thing. You have a special look and a special quality. I was watching you already, just meeting you. You draw people’s attention. I see it all the time. Anyway, off the field, when you tried to sweep the ball from me and I managed to avoid that, and I made the mistake of laughing, I could see in your eyes how pissed you were. There was fire in your eyes, and it felt like an electric shock, seeing that. Seeing all that passion.”
He shook his head. “No one wants to look foolish, to lose face, and you were reacting to that. You wanted to slap my hand away. You’d have loved to jump up and swing at me. And I saw you hesitate, saw that you were aware Jeff was running up, and you simply stopped yourself from attacking me. I had to figure that out, but it wasn’t hard. You didn’t want to do anything in front of him that would show poor sportsmanship. That was when I started thinking about you as not just another kid playing soccer. I’ve always been more interested in personality and character than just appearance. You had both the character and the looks, and you had fire in your eyes. That was the point when it started.”
I digested that as we rode, and then he said, “So, you’re gay?”
I kept riding, kept thinking, and finally said, “Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe I’ve just got feelings for you. I do know I have that.”
I glanced over at him and caught his grin again. At some point, I’d tell him how captivating that grin was and what it made me feel every time I saw it. How, seeing it right then, I felt like knocking him off his bike onto the grass and taking advantage of him. How that grin had been the beginning for me, and I hadn’t even realized it.