Discovering Love

Chapter 4
Angles

“I’m not queer if that’s how cool you’re hoping for. I don’t know how cool Alfred is. He has a girlfriend. I know that. What you are telling me is he… I’m not that cool, not even close.”

“It’s a game, Martin. You shouldn’t take it seriously. Alfred likes to have fun. One man’s fun is another man’s poison. We get to like what we like, Martin. It doesn’t matter to me who you like.”

It wasn’t something I would have said to anyone else. It isn’t a word I would use on anyone else. Greg walked all around that topic. I wasn’t just going to lie down on his pool table and take it. I wasn’t there to discuss what his other buddies thought was a good time. What was a good time with Greg was unthinkable otherwise.

I might do anything Greg wanted, but I wasn’t just going to dive for it so he got to say it was what I wanted to do. I wouldn’t give him something to tell the other boys. He’d need to have skin in the game that made the telling as risky for him as it was for me.

The idea of ending up on his pool table, discovering love as taught by the teacher, was no longer scary. The more I knew about Greg, the more I knew it may be a game, but it was a game meant to get him where he needed to go. I would take him there on my terms and he’d never tell anyone about it.

The rest of the boys he tempted into sex were horny teens. I remembered the miniature versions I knew when I first became a teen. It hardly took more than a mere mention of sex before we were going as far as we dared go. I’d seen all my junior high friends naked and I’d seen their erections.

That was little boy curiosity and Greg was big boy serious. Show and tell was no longer enough. Boys wanted to be stimulated sexually and someone like Greg figured out how to get them to go places none of them ever thought they’d go. As long as Greg was in control, there was no limit to how far he’d take a horny willing pool player. It had nothing to do with what they wanted and everything to do with what Greg needed.

I had no idea of how I’d turn the tables on him, but I’d go along with his game and figure out when he reached the point of no return, and then I’d play it by ear. The other boys were playing with Greg but I was serious. He was a threat and he represented heavenly bliss. I decided to play.

I may be horny but I’d managed to get by without overexposing myself in a town too small to tolerate it. Greg never really said anything, but he told me everything while doing it. He had nothing to lost. It’s how his game worked.

He was the kind of boy who got the upper hand, and he’d use that to keep boys coming back. I was sure Greg wanted what he wanted. There was a certain amount he’d give to get it. I’d play along until he wanted a little more, and he’d have to give a little more to get it. I could play that game.

There were still more questions than answers, but to get me where he wanted to go would require him to give up more than he’d given up before. Greg wasn’t going to be able to put the blame on me.

“I didn’t say you were, now did I?” he said, backtracking a few steps. “I have trouble with my shoulders. You could give me a massage when you want your clothes back. Just a little massage. That’s easy. You decide when you’ve had enough. You go as far as you like. I just go along with you, and I don’t encourage queers. Boys being boys I have no trouble with at all. We got to do something, don’t we? I play pool. You want to play pool?”

“And the boys you play with perform.”

“When possible,” he said more seriously. “I’m easy. I also appreciate a good… performance. A massage takes the tightness out of a muscle. Some of my muscles get real tight sometimes. A little message and I’m loose as a goose.”

“I bet you are,” I said with confidence. “That’s cool. I could do that. But nothing else, okay? I don’t think I want to do more than that today. I hardly know you. Performing for you would require I know you better. I’d like it if I knew you better, but giving you a massage is fine with me.”

“Just the way I see it. I furnish the pool table. The competition makes the rules. Makes the game more interesting. I take what I can get. I’d like a massage.”

“Cool. I’ll do my best to give you a good one. I won’t ask you what I get if I win. Not much chance in that. You are very good.”

“So I’m told. You going to shoot today or we just going to make up more rules?”

I wasn’t about to tell him I was already thinking about being able to touch his body. I became worried about making a mess in my jeans when I touched him. That’s if I still had on my jeans. What if I didn’t? What if I made a mess in my underwear and he saw it? What if I didn’t have on my underwear?

My heart began to race with anticipation. I’d never really felt anyone else’s skin before. Not in a way like I was going to get to feel his. I knew he’d give me any access I wanted but how far could I go without admitting something about myself I wasn’t ready to let anyone else know? How did I manage to get myself into this spider’s trap? Had there ever been an option? Did I really think I could get over on Greg?

There was an immediate escalation in my expectation for this get together. If I was to have a heart attack, I hoped it would hold off until after I gave him the massage. I lined up another shot, trying to look as casual as possible, and then I accepted defeat gracefully.

I didn’t make much of an effort at getting my balls into his pockets. I sat down, taking my time to take off my jeans over my bare feet. Greg still had on his boxers, sneakers and socks.

“You rush your shots, you know? You’ve got to draw lines with your eyes to figure out where the ball will go once you hit it. You need to take your time to see what the ball does after you hit it. It’s how you learn.”

“Oh,” I said, holding my hands over my last piece of clothing. The one with the bulge in it.

He seemed sincere in his criticism.

“I do that a lot. Rush! I’m just a kid, you know? I hurry wanting to get where I’m going. Then I can’t figure out why I bothered and I rush home.”

“Here, let me show you. Come on over here and take your cue.”

He held out my stick and watched me fold my jeans neatly and place them in the middle of the chair. Even with my underwear on I felt naked the way the front poked out. There was no way to hide it so I acted like I didn’t notice it. I was sure my leakage was showing and he was going to see it and in spite of my casual posture, I was hot to trot, and he knew just where I was going.

I took the cue while he set up my last botched shot, which I made no effort to make the first time.

“Now check your angles. Pick a pocket and decide how you need to strike your ball with the cue ball. It’s geometry.”

“My angles?”

I looked at the ball down the barrel of the cue and tried not to look out of the corner of my eye at the way the front of his boxers stuck out two inches from my face. I hit the ball without really seeing it and it bounced around and rolled into the middle of the table about an inch from where it had been before I moved it.

“Here, let me set it up again,” he said, moving balls around.

His leg brushed my arm and he put his hand on my naked back when he got behind me. He leaned over my back with his lips almost on my ear. His body and my body were pressed together. The front of his boxers dug into the crack of my tighty whitey briefs.

I would have passed out, except I didn’t want to miss this. The feel of his skin I imagined getting my hands on was far more intoxicating when he just draped himself over my back. My dick dug into the pool table and my ability to stay conscious was seriously compromised.

“Now, remember the angles. It’s all in how you line up the cue ball on your ball. You know if you just clip the ball you’ll get a big angle and if you hit it square you’ll get almost no angle. It’ll come off the bumper at an equal angle according to how you strike the ball. Relax and let me do it for you but pay attention to my stroke.”

How could I refuse an offer like that?

His chest barely brushed my back and my eyes closed and I was feeling warm all over. He reached across my back and rearranged the way I had the cue. His chest covered my entire back. He was sweating slightly and I could feel the dampness of his underarm on my shoulders. His face brushed mine ever so slightly as we studied the shot.

His smell drifted into my nose and my eyes closed again. I was feeling dizzy and alive and wonderful. I was so close to creaming in my underwear I had to employ old tactics to back down. It meant giving up some of the pleasure he was giving me, but I had my standards and I didn’t want to violate them all in a single afternoon.

“Line up your angles and I’ll show you where you need to make contact with your ball.”

He leaned forward forcing the front of his boxers into my thigh as he reached across the table, placing his finger right where he wanted me to hit the ball. I started to sweat. His face pressed against mine as he checked the angle again. I gasped as he stood up and away from me.

“Stroke it easy like I just showed you. One motion. Don’t jerk your shots.”

“Stroke it easy. Don’t jerk,” I said, not remembering he showed me anything.

“You’ve got a one track mind. Just shoot,” he said. “You’ll see what I explained to you.”

“Just shoot,” I repeated for him with the bulge in his boxers now right next to my face again.

I was sure he intended me to grab it. The front of his boxers moved in a pulsing motion. Maybe I wasn’t the only one getting his jollies when he hugged me. I looked for a sign he was dripping but the color of his boxers didn’t make it easy to see.

“You’re taking too long, Martin. When you line it up just go for it. They aren’t going to move. You need to see what it does to know what it does. That’s how you learn.”

“Like this?” I asked, hitting the ball lightly and it ran out of gas four inches from the pocket we were lined up on.

“That’s enough. It’s getting late. I can show you next time. You don’t concentrate. You need to concentrate. I’ll teach you how.”

‘I have no doubt you will,’ I calculated.

When I stood up after the shot, he was turning at the same instant and the front of our underwear ended up colliding with a predictable result. We both hesitated keeping our mutual bulges engaged albeit through the material in our underwear.

I was surprised to see Greg looking at where we had come together. The power of our hard wired connection kept us pressing together as it sent an electric shock through me. I couldn’t break the connection and for some reason Greg didn’t for several long seconds.

Greg was cool once he backed away. He’d let himself be compromised, but only for a few seconds. He wasn’t able to give up his total control of every situation, but he knew I knew something about him that he didn’t like me knowing.

It was obvious he had been thrown off his game for a minute. There was this incredible awkwardness that followed. It kept us from looking at each other as we went to neutral corners for the mandatory eight count. He grabbed his jeans and started to turn them right side out, while keeping his back to me.

“The massage?” I said, not wanting to let him off the hook. “I can’t go home like this. You said if I…”

Greg was standing back in the shadows so I couldn’t see his face. He stepped forward and sat on the corner of the table, letting his jeans fall back onto the floor.

“I forgot.”

He stretched out with his stomach pressed against the felt. He turned his face to one side and rested it on his hands. He closed his eyes.

I stood to one side studying his golden skin. My fingers were frozen at my sides while impure thoughts came to mind.

“Come on, get with it, we don’t have all day. My brother will be home. He’ll want the table. Just a quick once over.”

“How do I? I mean I can’t…”

“Climb up on the table. You can’t hurt it. It’s slate. Start with the shoulders, back, and then my legs.”

I knelt in between his legs and leaned forward over him. I moved my legs until they were snuggly pressed against his bare skin. I felt flushed and the temperature was rising fast — mine anyway. I leaned forward to take my first calculated feel of his lovely skin.

Putting my hands tentatively on his shoulders, the skin was softer than I expected. It took me a second to realize I was really touching him. I used my thumbs to massage his muscles and I slid my fingers gently over his warm skin. My heart did a tap dance in my chest and I became enraptured by the feel of him. It was like no experience I’d ever had.

His muscles tensed as I felt them. I leaned forward to do his shoulders and the front of my briefs leaned on the back of his boxers. His eyes swung open and were filled with a substantial fire.

“Massage only, thank you. If I ever get the urge to be cornholed, I’ll give you a call.”

“Sorry,” I said. “Difficult to reach everywhere from here.”

I wasn’t invited to leave and I didn’t offer but I was sure I found something I liked as much as I liked looking at him. He went back into his trance and I rubbed all the way down to his waistband, taking my time to memorize his body.

“Just push your fingers under,’ he said, keeping his eyes closed. “We got all the same parts.”

“You said!”

“I said get your dick out of my ass. You can massage me there. It’s part of massaging me. Don’t be such a wimp, Martin. I got nothing that will bite you.”

I slipped my fingers into the back of his underwear before he was able to change his mind. They didn’t stop until I felt the top of his crack. It was far enough for one leap.

His legs tightened against mine when the tips of my fingers were working around the split. His ass felt smoother than his back. The skin was softer. It was mesmerizing to have my hands on the body of a boy I liked. Before Greg I wouldn’t let myself think about such things.

“That okay?” I asked, as my fingers dipped in and out of his crack.

“Yeah, fine. Don’t talk, rub. We only got a few minutes. Do my legs.”

I felt a bit odd fishing my fingers out of his underwear. I wondered if he’d describe it to the boys? His legs spread wider a part. I backed down to about his knees as I traced the black hairs from half way down the inside of his thigh, up, up, up to where they entered his boxers. It was a sparse line of the darkest hair on his body.

As I started to rub the back of his legs, I could see his balls lying there in the left leg hole. I used both of my hands on his right leg while watching them. There was hair, but very little, and as I leaned toward the left I could see the space behind his balls and more scattered blond hairs. I changed legs to be able to push one up inside the leg of his boxers. It was worth a shot.

I rubbed with one hand and let the back of my other hand lean against the hot ball sac. I waited for him to squawk as my hands stayed in his underwear way longer than they stayed anywhere else.

What had come over me I didn’t know, but my entire being was bent on having as much of Greg as I could get, and I wasn’t sure where my plot ended and his begun. My fingers felt the very top of the leg where the balls rested and the crack of his ass was just wide enough for my fingers to touch the forbidden spot he’d warned me about.

There was a little soft hair and my fingers massaged between the legs just below the most delicate skin of all. He did not move or cry foul or tell me to quit feeling the most intimate of places. I was once again close to unloading in my pants. Being so close to a god was almost overwhelming. I couldn’t believe he wasn’t going to protest what I was doing.

He remained silent and didn’t move. I acted like I was massaging him as I kept going back to the space between his legs, his balls, and that spot at the bottom of his crack. I became more bold. I felt each large round ball. I let two fingers move ever so lightly across the spot that was so silky and soft that I gasped from the pure pleasure of it.

Maybe he fell asleep. He got still as death with spittle leaking from the corner of his mouth onto the back of his hand.

I became more bold. It went from a massage to a sexual exploration. I rubbed, touched, and felt everything within reach. While feeling the must delicate spot on him, he began to rise. I yanked my hand off his rosebud, waiting for the verbal assault. It didn’t come.

“Do what you were doing before, dude,” he said, raising up and putting his hand into the front of his underwear.

“What?” I asked, looking right at where he’d pushed his dick down between his legs.

“Behind my nuts. Do that some more. It’s nice when you do that. No one’s ever done that before.”

Greg’s voice seemed weak and like he was out of breath. He lifted his head to speak. He didn’t open his eyes.

He liked it. I liked it. What was there to worry about? I rubbed more vigorously and I could feel him pressing his hips down against the felt. He seemed to squirm as I spent long minutes rubbing and my fingers found a new source of excitement. He was very thick and hard. I couldn’t wrap my fingers all the way around it. He moaned a bit as I tried.

“Yeah,” he said softly.

I squeezed the shaft with one hand, holding the head in my other. It was a darker tan than the rest of his skin. The head was well-shaped and thicker than the shaft. It was becoming darker, almost a reddish color as I manipulated it with both hands. He once again went motionless.

He groaned. I sweat. He dribbled in my hand. I dribbled in my underwear. It was how a good pool game should go.

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