If anyone could see me now they’d think I was mad. They’d be right, of course, but probably for the wrong reason. You see, I don’t think I’m crazy mad—well, maybe a bit—but I am angry mad. You can’t actually see that I’m angry mad as that is hidden inside me. Not too deeply hidden, I’ll admit, as it has burst to the surface on a few occasions over the last couple of days. Right now, however, it is fairly well below the surface.
Let’s face it, though, you’d have to be mad to be sitting outside in a thunderstorm on a table wearing only a pair of gray briefs. So perhaps I am crazy mad? No, I don’t reckon so, because if I was crazy mad, I’d be sitting here fully clothed. And I ain’t crazy enough to get Grandpa riled up again, not so soon after Saturday night, or Sunday morning to be precise. Hey, isn’t that the title of some old film—‘Saturday Night & Sunday Morning’? Well, I had one of those, but I doubt it was anything like the one in the film. Very probably that involved girls, or women. Mine didn’t . . . well, not much, at least as far as I remember!
So, I’ve felt like shit since then. Didn’t even go to school on Monday, and I never miss school. Ain’t gone again today, either. Grandpa don’t know. He goes off to work early, and I’m back from school before he returns, so there’s no way he’d know. Of course, with any other kid, the school would call the parent to find out why the kid wasn’t at school. But Grandpa, he ain’t got a phone, so it’ll be a few days before the school finds some other way to contact him. By then, hopefully, I’ll have got over this and gone back to school. If so, he’ll never know and that’ll save me from a trip to the woodshed!
It feels like I’ve been sat here for ages. Can’t tell how long as I’m not wearing a watch. Fortunately, the rain is warm, so there’s no fear of me ‘catching my death’ as my mom used to say. Oops, had a little gulp there thinking about her. She’s been dead about three years now; the cancer took her. That was when I moved in with Grandpa because he’s my only living relative. Guessed it would be better living with him than in a home, or with a foster parent—not that many foster parents want kids who are soon to become teenagers. Used to think about Mom a lot, but not so much these days. Guess that’s only natural, but when I do, I usually feel guilty ‘cos I’m not thinking of her so often.
Anyway, it has helped sitting here in the rain even if I do end up looking like a prune with wrinkled skin. Doesn’t it say something in the Bible about washing your sins away? Reckon though it’d probably need more than a thunderstorm to wash mine away and the Bible sure wouldn’t approve of most of mine.
Think I’ll stay here a bit longer. Grandpa won’t be home for a while yet, so I’ve plenty of time to dry off and get a meal ready for us. Most of the time I’ve been sat here on my butt with my legs pulled up so my feet are on the front of the table. My arms are wrapped round my legs and my chin’s sort of resting on my knees. I’ve mainly been daydreaming, either with my eyes closed or just staring into space. Some of the time, though, my thoughts go back to Saturday night and that’s when I come to with a start, like I just did.
I sense movement off to the right where the house is, but that can’t be as there’s nobody else here. And yet, yes there is. The door’s opens and someone is standing there. Bit hard to make out who it is through all this rain, but then it dawns on me that it’s Ethan. He used to be my best friend until a few weeks ago; indeed, he was virtually my only friend. But then I sort of dumped him and that was what eventually led to me sitting here now.
Why’s he here though? We’ve hardly spoken of late. And now what’s he doing? I’m watching as he takes off his hoodie and then his t-shirt. He kicks off his sneakers and pulls off his socks. Then he unbuckles his belt, unzips the fly of his jeans, pushes them down his legs and steps out of them. Now he’s wearing just a pair of briefs, like me, only his are black. He turns slightly sideways and I can see his package framed in them. Despite everything I can feel myself stir. ‘If only’, I say to myself, but I blew all that.
He steps out of the door and walks slowly across the grass to stand by the side of the table. Part of me wants to jump off the table and grab him, but I can’t do that. I can’t even look at him.
“What the fuck are you doing, Josh, sitting out here in this thunderstorm wearing just your briefs?” he asks.
I can’t help the small chuckle that escapes my lips. “And what the fuck are you doing standing there in the same thunderstorm, also just in your briefs?” I respond.
He laughs; I laugh, my first one in days. The tension that was there as he walked toward me is gone.
“Room for one more on the table?” he asks.
“Why not?” I say. If the old table breaks, so be it. It’ll only mean another visit to the woodshed—and not to repair it!
“Move over then,” he says.
I scoot sideways along the table and wince slightly as I do so. Hopefully he didn’t notice. Ethan clambers onto the table and arranges himself in an identical posture to me, so we are sitting beside each other, but with a few inches between us.
“Are you in pain?” he asks, placing his right hand on my left forearm as he does. The touch is gentle, his voice concerned. “Has your grandfather...?”
I cut him off before he can finish the question. “No, it’s nothing like that.”
“So why weren’t you at school for the last two days? I thought you must be ill, so decided to cycle over after school finished today.”
I don’t answer his question. Instead, I say, “You must be mad, cycling over in all this rain.”
“I’d already got soaked cycling home from school, so coming on here didn’t make any difference. Anyway, you’re the one who must be mad just sitting out here with nothing on when you don’t need to.”
“I have got something on and wearing just my briefs makes more sense than sitting here fully clothed.”
Ethan laughs. I love the sound of his laugh. It’s so genuine and it makes his face even more attractive. I’ve missed hearing his laugh and seeing his face, come to that.
“I’ll give you that,” he responds, “but you haven’t told me why you’re sitting here?”
And that is the big question. It demands a big answer. But am I ready to tell him? More than that, if I do answer, should I tell him the truth or make something up? I suppose I could tell him some of the truth, but unless I tell him more than I want him to know, I doubt he’ll be satisfied, and he’ll want to know more. I sit there trying to decide. Time seems to stand still while the rain continues to pour down. Ethan sits patiently alongside me. His hand, which was just resting on my forearm now starts to slowly and gently stroke up and down. I can feel a tingle in a certain area.
Just then there is a flash of lightning and a huge rumble of thunder almost directly overhead.
“We can’t stay here!” I exclaim.
I push myself off the table and run toward the house. Ethan is right behind me. As we get to the door there is another flash of lightning, incredibly close. I glance over my shoulder and see it has struck the top of the metal clothes pole. Little bits of fire are dancing around it. Ethan stumbles and cannons into me. Has he been hit? That would be simply too much to bear. I pull the door open and stumble into the house. I can sense that he is right behind me.
“Are you alright?” I ask.
“That was too close for comfort,” he replies. “I can feel static on my body.”
I turn and look at him. His hair does appear to be standing on end, but otherwise he looks normal—thank goodness.
I take a step forward and wrap my arms around him, pulling him into a hug. His arms go round me and we stand there hugging each other’s soaking wet body while the water drips off us and pools on the linoleum.
We are both quite thin, neither of us being sporty types, but Josh is about three inches taller than me. Thus, my head sort of nestles into his shoulder.
“For a moment I thought I’d lost you there,” I mumble.
“I did lose you,” he mumbles back.
I take a second or two to absorb and understand what he said. I pull away slightly and look into his dark brown eyes—or at least as much of them as I can see—because his hair is no longer standing on end but is now plastered down on his forehead and partially hiding his eyes. But, I’m almost certain I can see a tear running down his cheek. Or is it just a raindrop?
“What do you mean ‘you lost me’?”
“You just cut me out of your life about two months ago. I thought we were best friends and then ‘poof’, you were gone.”
It is true, I had cut him out. I thought I’d burned my boats, or bridges, or whatever the saying is. But, now he’s here and we’ve just hugged. He shivers and I can see goosebumps on his arms. I realise we need to get dry. Telling him to stay where he is, I go and fetch a couple of towels so we can dry ourselves, which we proceed to do individually. We’re close now, but not touching, allowing room for towelling.
Ethan starts to lower his briefs. We’ve seen each other naked before, but I can’t help looking at what he reveals as he pushes the briefs down his legs. He stands before me in all his glory. He’s uncut and there’s nothing much to see right now what with all that rain, but even so it stirs me. I start to follow his lead and then hesitate, but I have to carry on and push my briefs down my legs and step out of them. As I stand back up, he’s looking.
“Shite, Josh! What have you done?”
He’s looking at my dick, but his eyes are directed specifically at the area just above it which has been shaved to leave just a hardly noticeable stubble, now starting to grow back.
“It’s a long story, or at least part of a long story.” I can feel tears beginning to form in my eyes.
He steps forward and hugs me again. It feels so good to be in his arms, but I know I don’t deserve it.
“Then I want to hear it—all of it.”
By now we are both shivering, even though we are dry.
“Shall we go to my room? It’ll be more comfortable sitting down rather than standing here—and it is a long story.”
“It’ll be even more comfortable and a lot warmer if we both get in your bed.” He grins as he says those words. I reach out, take his hand and lead him to my bedroom. He doesn’t resist. Maybe things will be alright I tell myself as we enter the room, but I know I shouldn’t raise my hopes.
“It will be both, but are you sure?” I ask as I push the door to behind us.
“I’m sure, but what about you? When does your grandpa get back?”
As he finishes the question I feel another twitch. This one, though, is in my butt rather than my dick.
“We’ve got a good hour or so before he’ll return. Anyway, we’ll hear his truck and that’ll give us time to get some clothes on.”
He smiles, “Better safe than sorry, eh?” I feel that twitch again, just a little stronger. I have a good idea of what Grandpa’s reaction will be if he finds me in bed with Ethan.
My room is sparse with just a single bed, a chest of drawers and an old wooden wardrobe. A rug is by the bed, and the rest of the floor is covered in linoleum. I lead Ethan to the bed and pull back the comforter. I slide in first and move over next to the wall; he slides in beside me.
“Roll on your side,” he says. I turn to face the wall.
“Not really what I meant,” he says, his voice in my ear, “but it’ll do for a start.”
It would have to do for more than a start, I say to myself. There is no way I can face him while telling him what wants to hear. He has turned onto his side and I feel him snuggling behind me. To feel his still slighty damp body next to mine is amazing, and it produces the inevitable reaction. One that is intensified as his right arm comes across my chest and pulls us really tight. His fingers wander down below my belly button.
“Mmm . . . that feels nice,” he says as he strokes across the shaved area. It does indeed feel nice, very nice, and I can feel my dick rising.
“Okay,” he says. “We’re both comfortable now and I can easily go to sleep holding you like this, but you have a story to tell. So start!”
Yes, I had a story to tell, but it was one of abandonment and betrayal. He’d been my best, virtually my only, friend, for years but then I dumped him. Left him to the wolves. He knew that of course, but here he was again, having come over because he was worried about me. I truly didn’t deserve him.
We were a pair of geeks, or nerds, interested in books and learning. We had no real interest in sports or games, unless you count something like table tennis! He had a table at his house and I loved going over there to play. I’d be there often while mom was alive, but since then grandfather would only let me visit for a sleepover once a month.
Almost inevitably we were picked on at school by the jocks. The schools supposedly had ‘no bullying’ policies and those worked fairly well in junior and middle school. In high school though it was a different matter. Bullying wasn’t exactly encouraged, but neither was it clamped down on. It seemed the football jocks in particular had almost had a free hand to do as they wanted, just so long as they left no physical evidence. So for the last couple of years we’d been subjected to name calling, being tripped up, which was especially fun when carrying our lunch trays, pushed into lockers. All the usual things, although they didn’t go as far as demanding money. At least as we hung together all the time we could support each other which helped us manage to survive their taunts.
Then Ethan caught chickenpox from his younger sister. Luckily I’d had it when I was younger so I wasn’t going to catch it, although it might have been better had that not been the case. As it was he was going to be off school for at least a couple of weeks, which left me to survive on my own.
Grandpa’s place was outside the town itself and about two miles from the school. It was almost half a mile down an unmade track and from where that met the road it was another quarter mile to the nearest few houses, which was as far as the school bus came. Consequently, I always cycled to school and I would call at Ethan’s house on the way and he’d cycle the rest of the way with me. That was when I found out from his mom on the Monday morning that he’d caught chickenpox.
My spirits sank at the news. I was sure the bullying would get worse as a result of being alone. I sat on my own at lunch in the cafeteria and kept sneaking glances at the table where the trio who were the major source of problems for us sat. They were Jordan Higginson, Brett Seymour and Tyler Levinski, or the three mouse hunters as we called them. I noticed them looking at me and then smiling and laughing to each other. I was sure something was going to happen when they got up to leave their table. I could see the remains of one of their sodas giving me a quick shampoo, or my head being banged by an elbow or two as they walked past where I was, but, in fact, nothing happened.
Indeed I got through the day without any problems. I was happy and looking forward to getting home and starting on my homework. I walked to the bike shed and that was when my mood changed completely. The front wheel of my bike was now bent and distorted to a degree that would mean not only couldn’t I cycle home, I’d also have to push the bike on just its rear wheel. Looking at the damage I also thought it wasn’t repairable, but would need a new wheel. Grandpa wasn’t going to be happy about that and furthermore I felt sure it would be the weekend before he’d do anything about buying a new one. That meant I’d be walking to and from school for the rest of the week.
I’d just unlocked the bike and got it on its rear wheel, when I heard a voice behind me. One I recognised as belonging to Brett Seymour. He was a linebacker, over six foot tall, well-muscled and with dark hair that was in a crew cut.
“Hey, looks like you got a problem there, Morgan.”
“Yeah, some fucker’s done my wheel in.”
“Whoa, didn’t think you swore, pretty boy.”
That was one of the mild insults they threw our way.
“Don’t usually.” I grunted.
“Don’t you live way out in the country?” I nodded. “That’s a long way to push a bike.”
“I know, so I’d better get started,” I replied as I went to push the bike.
“Hold on, pretty boy.” He put a big hand on my shoulder. “How’s about I give you a lift home. My truck’s here and we can toss your bike in the back.”
He was the oldest of the trio who were a year above us anyway, so he had wheels, four, that is, as opposed to my two—or currently one! I was, though, immediately suspicious. Why was he being nice and offering to help me? It didn’t feel right, so I asked him that very question. In reply he said he wasn’t as bad as I evidently thought he was and maybe I should lighten up.
Faced with that walk it seemed dumb to tell him to go screw, so I pushed the bike to where his truck was; we loaded it in the back and he drove me home. I was even more staggered when he said he’d pick me up in the morning ’cos he’d realised how far I’d have to walk. It all seemed too good to be true, but next morning there he was and he ferried me to and from school for the rest of the week. What was more, he even invited me to sit with him and his pals at lunch. It felt good, I wasn’t being bullied and I’d been accepted by the jocks. Because he and his pals had me in their group, nobody else would dare give me trouble. To crown it all he even came out on Saturday morning to collect me and take me into town to buy a new front wheel. When we got back, he helped me fit it. What’s more, grandfather was impressed with the new friend I’d made.
He surprised me even more by saying that although my bike was now fixed he’d be happy to continue driving me to and from school. It wasn’t a hard decision to make. I’d gone up in the world and was enjoying my new status. Toward the end of that week Ethan came back to school, his quarantine having been declared complete. I was pleased to see him, but it gave me a problem. At lunch that day I asked Brett if he could join us, but was told not only that he couldn’t, but if I wanted to stay there I needed to cut him adrift. I hate to say that was what I did, but I did, even to the extent that I stopped sitting with him in the classes we shared. In just a couple of weeks I’d given up a friendship that had lasted for years. Ethan was now on his own to contend with the jibes and bullying while I stood by and watched, lifting not a finger to help him or say a word to try and stop it.
During the next week Brett told me that there would be a party on the Saturday night and I was invited. At first I was going to tell him I couldn’t come knowing how reluctant grandfather was to let me go anywhere. Indeed, I told Brett that and he just winked at me and said he’d sort it. He did just that and when he dropped me home on the Friday, grandpa told me he was willing to let me go and have a sleepover at Brett’s on the following night.
Brett came and collected me. As I’d never been to his house I’m not sure if that was actually where the party was taking place, but it was crowded with a lot of the jocks and their girls – mainly cheerleaders, naturally. I’d never really been to a party either, apart from kids’ birthday parties when I was a lot younger, so had no real idea at what went on at one. Everyone looked to be having a good time and Brett introduced me to a couple of the girls. Music was playing and I was quite easily persuaded to dance with them. Time seemed to pass quite slowly, but after a while I began to feel a bit light headed. Maybe some of them were smoking weed. For sure some of the jocks were getting a bit drunk. I made sure that wasn’t going to happen to me and stuck to just drinking coke. Eventually my bladder told me I needed to go to the john, so having found out from Brett that it was upstairs I made my way there. I definitely had to hold onto the rail going up and did trip over the top step.
Next thing I remember is waking up and finding myself lying face down on a bed. I turned my head to the side and saw it was daylight coming through the window. That seemed strange. Then I realized that I felt cold. I rolled over onto my back, which hurt, at which point I could see my polo shirt had been pulled halfway up my chest while my jeans and briefs were down by my ankles. I’d no idea how I’d got onto this bed or how long I’d been there. My head hurt and I felt sick. I decided to get to the bathroom before I threw up over the bed, but when I went to sit up I had this horrible pain in my ass. It felt extremely odd there, something didn’t seem right. I put my hand down there and it felt sticky. I went to move again, but moving was very painful. I shifted position on the bed so I could see where I’d been lying, which was when I saw spots of blood on the sheet. It only took a moment for me to know what had happened to me.
The sick feeling intensified and I threw up over the bed, before lying back down on my side with my head in my hands and crying. I’ve no idea how long I stayed like that, but I knew I had to get up and managed to get on my feet. As I went to pull up my briefs and jeans sufficiently to enable me to stagger to the bathroom, that was when I noticed I’d been shaved. All of my pubic hair had gone; instead that area was now covered in red lipstick kisses. When I got to the bathroom I was sick again, but at least there was some water to freshen up and also to try and clean up my ass. Doing so hurt like hell, but I knew I couldn’t stay here. The house was now deathly quiet so I suspected that it had been empty all along, in which case it was surprising the cops hadn’t turned up last night. Or maybe it was the home of one of the partygoers whose parents had been away for the weekend. Either way I didn’t want to be discovered there. That would lead to questions and the answers would only lead me back to grandfather and that would lead to something I couldn’t face.
Finally, painfully, I managed to get dressed and left the house. Our town sort of sits in a valley and after walking a short distance I knew where I was. Not exactly near home, but not that far away either. Luckily I still had my wallet so I was able to catch a bus part way there. Even so walking the last mile, especially up the uneven track, was agony. Fortunately when I got here grandfather was out, I suspected he’d gone hunting. I was just glad he wasn’t there as it saved me facing any awkward questions about why Brett hadn’t brought me home. It also gave me the chance to run a bath and clean myself up as well as burning the briefs I’d been wearing.
Ethan is quiet, just holding me while as I speak, my confession spilling out with an occasional tear. I don’t expect him to forgive me for my sins. When he moves, I expect he’s about to climb out of bed and tell me exactly what he thinks of me, then get dressed and go home. Instead he rolls me towards him so we are face to face—and then he kisses me! It is only a brush of his lips on mine, but it speaks volumes; we’ve never kissed before.
“I’m glad you decided to tell me the whole story,” he whispers.
“Aren’t you disgusted with me, for how I ditched you? Not to mention what I allowed Brett, or someone, or even more than one someone, to do to me?”
Ethan places a finger on my lips. “I found out what happened; that’s why I came.”
I’m staggered. My mind can’t take that in. “You knew? How come you knew?”
“Well, I didn’t absolutely one hundred per cent know, but I was very sure. There’s been talk going round the school ever since Monday morning. Finally, this afternoon, I chanced to overhear a conversation between a couple of the jocks. They were laughing and joking about a Polaroid picture they’d seen of your butt.” He hesitates for a few seconds before continuing. “And there were other things, too. It seems there was a bet that Brett wouldn’t be able to screw you before the end of the semester. The picture was the proof that he had and he was going to be collecting a lot of money.”
Even before he finished I start crying. The tears are running down my cheeks. I’d been tricked and humiliated, and it was for a bet! At that moment I feel my life is over. I just want to curl up and die. Why hadn’t that lightning bolt that had been so close struck me, I ask myself. That would have solved my problems.
“Josh, you can’t let him, let them, win. You have to come back to school tomorrow. I’ll be right beside you. Hold your head high and stare the fuckers down.”
“I...don’t think I can. And why would you want to be with me after all this?”
“Because you’re my friend and that’s what friends do for one another.”
I sigh. “I know you’re my friend, but I don’t deserve you.”
Suddenly he rolls me onto my back, straddles me, lowers his head toward mine and looks me right in the eyes. It hurts being rolled over, but after almost three days the pain in my butt has lessened. It has only been really painful today when I had a shit in the morning; since then mainly I’ve just felt a dull ache, which is why I was able to sit on the table earlier.
His head inches slowly down until our lips touch. His tongue comes out and runs along my lips. I open my mouth, intending to say something, but his tongue pushes inside and suddenly we are kissing for real. After what seems an eternity—but couldn’t have been even a minute—he pulls away.
“I think I may be in love with you, Josh.”
All sorts of thoughts race through my mind. I am amazed, bewildered, and feel struck dumb.
“But why? After what I’ve done to you? After what Brett did to me?” I finally manage to ask.
“I think I’ve probably loved you for years, but didn’t really understand the feelings. When you cut me off and started hanging out with Brett and the others, I felt part of me was missing. I longed to get it back, but didn’t know how. Now I’ve been given a chance. And what they did doesn’t make me feel any differently about you.”
I start to cry again. He lean forward and he does his best to wipe my tears away.
As I lie still peering through my teary eyes into his bright ones, I know I’d been given a chance. One that I don’t feel I deserve, but a chance all the same.
Eventually, I have to say what I’m thinking. “You realize I’m damaged goods?”
Ethan looks stunned for a moment before he almost shouts at me, “No you’re not, and anyway, I don’t give a fuck about that!”
As soon as the words are out of his mouth a horrified look crosses his face. It just strikes me as funny and I start laughing. Within a couple of seconds he joins in before collapsing on top of me.
That was when we hear Grandpa’s truck, which necessitates a rapid scramble to get out of bed and dressed before he comes into the house. We make it with a few seconds to spare. He looks surprised when he sees Ethan sitting opposite me at the kitchen table, but just mutters something and goes off to his room. Ethan seizes the opportunity to depart, but not before we exchange a kiss. We also agree that I will go to school tomorrow even if it means riding my bike standing on the pedals. I’m hoping I can manage to sit on the hard wooden seats in my classes. I won’t know till I try it.
Grandpa returns a few minutes afterwards. “Thought we’d seen the last of him and that you finally found yourself a decent friend.”
If only you knew, I thought. “Ethan and I just had a little disagreement, but it’s all sorted now. And as for Brett, I think he decided I’m a bit of an asshole.”
“Watch your language boy,” he growled menacingly. “That’s a shame. There was something about him I liked. Thought he might be able to toughen you up a bit, unlike that one.”
I’ve always suspected he didn’t like Ethan, although he’d never said so. It wasn’t really surprising seeing he’d never liked me that much and Ethan was a lot like me.
Next morning I have breakfast and get ready for school as usual. I ride my bike standing on the pedals as far as Ethan’s house and then sit in the saddle for the rest of the ride into school. He grins and nods approvingly as we set off from his house, having watched me ride in standing.
“How’re you feeling?” he asks.
“It’s not too bad, but I’m not gonna let anyone know there’s anything wrong.”
We exchange a high five, never the easiest thing to do on a bike, but we do it. When we arrive at the school I can sense other kids looking at me, some whispering comments to one another, one or two pointing me out to their friends. I do my best to look and act normal. It isn’t too bad until we walk into our homeroom. Ethan and I normally arrive early, but today we are on the late side; the room is nearly full.
“Here comes the film star!” Jordan Higginson says in a loud voice. “How about a round of applause for him?”
That is greeted with some applause and a lot of laughter.
“Yeah, when’s your next performance, Morgan?” That’s Tyler Levinski, and his comment inevitably draws more cheers and laughs.
I almost break and run, but Ethan is right behind me with his hand on my back. “There aren’t going to be any repeat performances,” says Ethan over my shoulder, staring at Tyler.
That seems to take them by surprise, and shortly after the teacher comes in to take the roll, which stops any further comments. Naturally, snide comments continue during the day, particularly at lunch and in the corridors, but it is generally bearable. Plus, hearing the same thing for the fourth or fifth time has much less effect than when you hear it for the first. A good majority of the school probably knows what happened to me. I can’t change that, but I hope many of the kids realize that I hadn’t been a willing participant.
There is now a definite change in my relationship with Ethan. Until now we had been friends, graduating to best friends and sometimes over the last year or so, friends with benefits when I had a sleepover at his house. Now though, he starts to come home with me two or three times a week. Nearly always, and very soon after we arrive, we are stripping and cuddling in bed together. Most of our time there is spent kissing and cuddling, simply enjoying the feel of another body, letting our hands explore and discover which touches give each of us the most pleasure. Of course we jerk each other off, but that is rarely the sole or even the first thing we do. Just being together in what seems like our own private world, away from the bullies and the name calling, is a joy in itself.
My sixteenth birthday is approaching. My actual birthday is during the week, but it so happens that the following weekend is one on which I’ll be allowed to have a sleepover at Ethan’s. I don’t expect much in the way of celebrations at home, but the thought of being able to actually sleep with Ethan without worrying about being discovered by my grandfather makes for excited anticipation. However, on my actual birthday Ethan tells me that he’s decided to tell his parents about us.
Immediately when he says that, I am terrified of what the consequences might be.
“Why do you want to do that? They might throw you out, or at least they might stop you seeing me?”
“Josh, it’ll be alright. They’ve known for at least the last year that I’m gay and they don’t have a problem with it. Have you noticed any difference in the way they’ve treated you during that time?”
I hadn’t. Indeed, thinking about it after he leaves, I can see that if anything they’ve been even nicer to me than in the past. Even so, it seems that their knowing Ethan was gay was one thing; telling them I am his boyfriend is another, especially as we share his bed. Still, it seems I have little option but to go along with his plans.
His mom cooks a nice dinner for us—chicken fried steak with gravy, mashed potatoes and green beans. That is followed, after a little interval, by a birthday cake. Actually, a red velvet cake complete with sixteen candles. I am overwhelmed by that because Grandpa hasn’t even appeared to notice it was my birthday! Then, to top it all, they give me some presents. They are all clothes, a pair of jeans, a couple of t-shirts and a sweatshirt. It is all much appreciated. Finally, after I’ve opened all of those, Ethan slips a small package onto the table in front of me. I unwrap it to reveal a plain cardboard box. I open the lid and remove a pair of black briefs that are cut much smaller than the ones I usually wear as well as being of a much finer quality. I look at him in amazement and then glance at his parents who both seem to be trying not to grin—at least I hope they are grins and not grimaces.
“Well, aren’t I allowed to buy underwear for my boyfriend?” he asks, looking at his parents rather than me.
What a way to tell them, I think, as I wait for their reaction. The immediate one is that their grins grow bigger before his father speaks. “It’s taken you long enough to tell us, son.”
“We’re glad you have though, but I hope you asked Josh for permission first,” added his mother.
“He did,” I manage to say, “but I was very worried about how you’d react.”
“Why, Josh?” his mom asks. “You’re a great kid, especially considering what’s happened to you along the way. I couldn’t think of a better boyfriend for our Ethan.”
When we get up to Ethan’s bedroom later we agree that his announcement couldn’t have gone better and that I’ve been worried about nothing. We finish the day watching a horror movie he has on video while lying cuddled together under his comforter wearing just our briefs.
After the movie finishes he insists that I model the new briefs. Once I’d get them on and give him a couple of twirls, he gets up from the bed and walks over to where I am standing. He proceeds to take great delight in running his hands all over the back of them, as well as the bits of my butt that they don’t cover. It is when he turns to running his hand over the front that problems truly arise! I urge him to stop before his gift gets stained.
His head is on my shoulder while he’s rubbing the front. “Alright, I’ll stop,”
he says, taking his hand away and moving to stand in front of me. He looks down into my eyes, “Happy Birthday, Josh.”
He drops to his knees in front of me and puts his hands at the sides of the briefs, which he then pulls down, allowing my fully erect dick to spring free. After that he proceeds to give me the most marvelous birthday present I’ve ever had, which later I realise is going to almost certainly be one of the most marvelous ones I’ll ever have.
I have no idea where, or how, he has learned how to do it, but it was simply an amazing experience. He’s given me pleasures and sensations I’ve never imagined possible. Still on his knees, he has to steady me as I come to a shuddering climax and indeed until I come down from my high. Once he decides I am capable of standing by myself, he rises, smiles at me and simply says “I love you, Josh.”
There is only one thing I can do, which is to kneel in front of him, pull down his briefs and try to give him the same sort of pleasure I’d just enjoyed. At least I now have some idea of what to do, and although I have no clue how good, or bad, I am, I can at least tell from the little noises he makes that he is enjoying it.
After that we climb into bed, hug each other tight and go to sleep. I don’t think we move during the night, and it is his mother knocking on the bedroom door next morning that wakes us.
I learned a valuable lesson that night—it is as good to give as it is to receive.
The problems at school never go completely away. We can still expect to be called names, tripped up in the corridors, or slammed against the lockers, but they do seem to decline. Maybe the bullies have become bored with doing and saying the same old things.
Ethan continues to come to my house after school at least a couple of days a week. We now have even more reason to share my bed for that short hour or two. Our ability to pleasure each other has increased until one afternoon when Ethan shows me how it is possible for us to pleasure each other at the same time! There is definitely something extra special in doing that.
Sometimes. though, we just lie together and talk. Ethan will be going to college in due course. He has hopes of getting a scholarship and his parents have built up a fund to enable him to do so even if that doesn’t come through. I am probably bright enough, but as far as I know there is no college fund for me. Mom had struggled to bring in enough money to keep us, sometimes doing two jobs, so I am sure she’d not been able to put any money aside for such a purpose. Even if she had, I am confident Grandpa would have spent it all by now. Thus I am going to have to get a job as soon as I left school, and very likely have to find new living arrangements.
We are also concerned about the sort of future we might have in this town. This isn’t exactly a town that’s liberal in outlook or politics. Perhaps if Ethan can get into a college in a city elsewhere in the state, I can move and get a job there? Failing that we’ll have to settle for seeing each other whenever and wherever we can.
It is a couple of months later. Ethan has come over after school and we are in bed together when the rain starts. It is a similar sort of storm to the one during which he’d come over and found me sitting on the table. We are enjoying a leisurely ‘sixty nine’ when my bedroom door bursts open.
“What sort of disgusting degenerate depravity is going on here?” yells Grandpa as he strides into the room and glares down at us. He is red in the face, his veins standing out on his forehead, and I can see spittle on his lips. The sound of the rain and hail on the tin roof must have prevented us hearing his truck arrive.
“You,” he shouts, pointing at Ethan, “get your clothes and go—now! And don’t ever come back.”
“You,” he thunders, now pointing at me, “don’t bother getting dressed. Just go to the barn. I’m going to beat this disease out of you, you perverted faggot.”
Ethan gets out of bed and stands up.
“Be quick about it, unless you want to join him,” Grandpa growls at him.
Ethan glares at Grandpa, then turns to me. “Josh, get up and get your clothes. I’m going and you’re coming with me.”
“He’s doing no such thing. He’s staying here.” Grandpa steps forward and puts out an arm, evidently intending to push Ethan aside.
“I wouldn’t do that if I was you, Mr Morgan.” Ethan’s voice has a quality I’ve never heard before.
Grandpa hesitates. “What do you mean, pervert?”
“I’m a black belt in both judo and karate, Mr. Morgan. Touch me, or Josh, or try to stop Josh from leaving with me, and you’ll regret it.”
By now I am sitting on the edge of the bed. I watch as Grandpa and Ethan stare at each other. The stares and the silence seem to last forever, but it is Grandpa who breaks.
“Take him if you want him. He’s worthless anyway. But don’t ever try coming back here, Joshua. You’re just vermin and you know what I do to them!”
I do know. I’ve seen him shooting rats and raccoons around the place, so I quickly gather up my clothes and we go into the kitchen where we pull on our briefs and sneakers. We’ll dress fully later.
“What happens now?” I ask, looking at Ethan.
“Go and get your bike. You’re coming home with me.”
“And then what?”
“You’re sixteen now, so you don’t have to live with him any longer. My folks will have no objections to you living with us.”
I start toward the shed where my bike is and then turn back to Ethan as a thought strikes me. “I didn’t know you were a black belt in judo or karate, let alone any sort of belt.”
He lets out a small laugh, “I’m not, but I’ve always figured your grandfather for a coward. Good at beating up defenceless kids, but not standing up to anyone willing to take him on. Luckily, I was right.”
I carry on to the shed, chuckling to myself at Ethan’s audacity. I get my bike out and side by side we pedal down the track. About a hundred yards down we come across Grandpa’s truck. Maybe it has broken down. Or maybe he’s somehow got suspicious about the number of times he’s come home over the past few months to find Ethan there and put that together with me being a lot happier of late. I don’t know or really care whichever it is.
What I do know is that I feel free and happy, riding my bike next to Ethan, getting soaking wet, with both of us wearing only our briefs and the rest of our clothes bundled under our arms.
Is it any surprise that I still like stormy weather, even to this day?