7 comments/ 22357 views/ 9 favorites A Summer of Firsts By: Turbidus Everyone depicted in the story is over 18. All the characters are fictional; if you think you recognize yourself you're mistaken. The story is fiction is fiction of course but I hoped to capture some of the confusion and anxiety of discovering something new about yourself, especially in a small town. The story takes a dark turn. Not all first times end like movies would have us believe. At some point I may offer an alternative ending. I indicate the point where some readers may wish to stop. I need to thank LarryInSeattle for his help in editing. In mistakes remaining are entirely of my own doing. I always appreciate helpful feedback. To be clear, "You suck" is not helpful. --- There is a first time for everything. A fucking cliché? Sure. That doesn't mean it isn't true. As with stereotypes, all clichés are anchored to a nugget of truth. That is what makes both useful mental short hand. There is always a first time. ---- The first time Nick became aware that someone was watching him piss he felt nothing but surprise. What could possibly be interesting about watching someone take a leak? Nick was a bright kid, but a bit of a loner. He didn't fit into the simplistic, yet all too real, schematic of high school cliques. He played sports but sports were neither his passion nor was he a star. He wasn't a jock. He grew up on a farm but he didn't farm, had no desire to farm, took not a single Ag class and did not join the Future Farmers of America club. He wasn't a Farmer Ted. He didn't smoke weed. He wasn't a stoner. He jostled for first in his class. He took the "hard" classes, calc, and chem II, physics and advanced biology. He could have been a brain but the other brains could not overcome their distrust of someone who played baseball and ran track. They had suffered too many wedgies, locker stuffings and towel snaps for them to drop their guard. He was a bright kid but a sheltered kid. The school district he lived in was primarily rural but encompassed a part of the county that was growing exponentially as the middle-class fled across the Mississippi to escape St. Louis. He had never heard of HBO, not that it was available in his little slice of heaven. He had never eaten Chinese and never ordered delivery pizza. So, it isn't hard to imagine his confusion when he realized someone was watching him pee through a quarter-sized hole in the stall partition. He was at the mall, looking to spend his birthday money on something he wanted but that would pass his mother's "is it practical" standards, something he would need when he left for college in a few months. They weren't actually all that poor. His mother simply believed in being cautious. His parents were older, his mom a teenager during the Depression. A cautious person understood it was best to plan for the worst. Nick grew up sheltered by a woman who was certain catastrophe waited around every corner. This was especially true after his father, who he barely remembered, had manage to come in contact with a live power line while working in the barn. They weren't really poor but his cautious mother wouldn't have paid good money for cable TV, even it had made its way to the boonies. His aunts and uncles over-compensated for his lack of a father and his cautious mother. He had racked in what to him was a small fortune on his eighteenth birthday. In his family, cash was the best gift of all. His birthday was only three weeks before graduation. The proximity of his birthday to graduation had diminished the loot he received for graduation. His relatives were generous not flamboyant. Still, between the two he had a little over $300 to add to what he'd saved from working at the A&W out on highway 77. He was at the mall to buy some clothes, maybe some stuff for his dorm room. The mall, according to the transplanted city kids, was a joke. It was too far from a real city to have any big stores. A Montgomery Ward store had been the mall's anchor but it closed a couple of years ago. There were still a few stores clinging to the edge of profitability but no name brand stores, unless you counted the Taco Bell in the food court. He had been trying to find jeans in his size when the giant Mountain Dew he'd gulped down with his burrito supreme caught up with him. The closest bathroom was the one by the gated and trashed-strewn "Monkey" Ward. For a moment he had worried he wasn't going to get his zipper down fast enough. When he finally freed his dick and let his bladder go, a shudder of relief washed over him. He hadn't noticed that someone was peeking at him at first. He had been absorbed in wonder at how good taking a piss could feel. The idea was so strange it took him a moment to convince himself. There was no doubt that there was an eye peering through the hole. Nick wondered if that ever had happened before and he had failed to notice it. He didn't use this restroom very often. He didn't come to the mall very often. He was finished pissing. He should simply shake, zip and go. He figured if he didn't flush, he wasn't touching anything gross so he didn't need to wash his hands. Besides, the sinks appeared to be almost as dirty as the urinals. He hesitated, unsure why. He could tell the eye in the hole was now looking at his face not his dick. He looked back. The eye in the hole dropped back to look at his dick. To his surprise Nick felt his dick start to get hard. He was a sheltered kid and a loner but he had a girlfriend. She was still a wonder to him. She had taught him how to kiss. She had let him touch her breast, through her clothes of course. She had even pressed her hand over his hard-on once. He was a sheltered kid but he knew what was happening to his dick. He was simply surprised it was doing it now, over nothing more than being spied on. He reminded himself he could pop a boner almost anytime, often for no apparent reason. He was a sheltered kid but it didn't take long in a locker room to discover there existed in this world men who did perverted things with other men. Such men were fags and fruits, queers and homos. They were pussies but yet should be feared. That first time, standing there holding his dick as it grew hard from another man looking at it, it did not occurred to Nick that the man in the stall might be such a man. It certainly never occurred to him that he himself might be such a man. --- He zipped up and left the bathroom, left the mall. He did not bother trying to shop further. He went home, told his mom he wasn't feeling well and went to bed after supper. His room was hot. It was one of two rooms upstairs. The other, a guest room, was empty most of the time. His mom's room was downstairs. She hated stairs. That was fine with him. Most of the time he had the upstairs to himself. As long as they didn't have company staying with them, he had his own bathroom as well. The old tub didn't have a shower but he didn't care. The old farmhouse did not have air conditioning. He had his window open, listening to the sound of the trucks passing through the night on highway 77, on their way somewhere that wasn't here. He lay on his back and the breeze blew the sheer curtains over his belly, over his dick. Bless him, he was eighteen with an eighteen year-old's cock and hormones. He got hard as fast as his eighteen year-old heart could pump his cock full of blood. He jerked off. He jerked off thinking, not of the feel of his girlfriend's breast under his hand as he usually did, but of the eye in the wall. He jerked off for the eye, knowing the eye wanted him to but not quite knowing he want to as well. He wiped his spunk off his chest and belly with a tee shirt. He did his own laundry. It was easier that way. As he wiped up the jizz, it finally occurred to him that maybe the guy in the stall was a queer. He found the idea vaguely exciting. He'd always thought queers were something confined to New York, California, and Europe. The idea that there might be one living and breathing right here in this ass end of the Illinois made the place feel, for lack of a better word, sophisticated. He went back the next day, explaining to his mother he wouldn't be going to work because he wasn't feeling well and still needed to do some shopping. She was lost in "The Young and the Restless" and just gave him a grunt good-bye. At the mall, he went straight to the bathroom. It was empty so he went to the men's clothing store. He found a couple of pairs of jeans that weren't bell bottoms and a couple of shirts. He made his way back to the bathroom. Someone was in the stall. He couldn't tell if it was the same person or not. He set his bag down, walked to the urinal and peed. He stood back further than usual, making sure his dick was not hidden inside the urinal. He watched the eye, not his stream. The eye jerked up and down, eyeing his face and his cock but mostly his cock. He was almost totally hard before he finished. Without stopping to consider what he was doing, he started to pump his dick after he shook it off. It only took a couple of strokes to get him totally hard. A soft voice from the stall said, "Yeah kid beat that meat. Fuck yeah." He came, hard. Ropes of white jizz arched from his cock and into the urinal. As the last jet fell short, barely missing his sneakers, Nick had a moment of panic, not about his shoes but at what he had just done. He knew masturbation was wrong. It was a sin. That was in the Bible. Not only had he been masturbating, he had been doing it right out in the open, in front of some stranger in a bathroom. He shoved his dick back in his pants, zipped up, and fled, almost forgetting the bag with his new clothes. That was the first time he jerked off for another guy. --- He told himself he was never going to do that again. It took him three days before he went back. He left early for work, telling his mom he was picking up some extra hours. The bathroom was empty and he swallowed a surge of disappointment mixed with relief. He was almost to the door when he stopped. He turned and looked at the stall. It was empty. Did he want to watch? The sound of approaching footsteps made up his mind for him. He ducked into the stall and was fumbling his jeans down when the door to the bathroom opened. He sat, hunched over his legs and listened to the guy piss, flush, and leave. So did the next guy and the one after that. He glanced at his watch and saw that he needed to leave or he'd be late for work. He was reaching for his pants when he heard the door open again. Footsteps echoed across the tiled floor. Nick waited for the sound of a zipper but it didn't come. He waited for the hissing ring of piss on porcelain. That didn't come either. Nick leaned back and peered through the hole. The guy's cock looked huge, framed in the open V of button fly jeans. The guy appeared to have his shirt off as well. Nick tilted his head to look upward. The guy had his tee shirt pulled back over his head. His chest and belly were covered in fine black hair that thickened above his cock. As Nick watched, the guy reached down and pulled his balls free. They hung below his cock, looking heavy. Nick was fascinated by the sight. It wasn't like he'd never seen a guy's dick before. He played baseball all his life and ran track. He'd seen plenty of naked guys before. At times, lying in his bed, rubbing his dick, he even remembered some of the dicks he had seen and wondered what they would look like hard. Most of the time he imagined breasts or pussy. When he caught himself thinking of cocks, he was confused more than anything else. Why was he thinking about dicks? He'd heard plenty of locker room jokes about queers and fags but never one about bisexuals. He had no concept that such a thing could even exist. He would drag his mind back to one of the centerfolds he'd seen in his buddy, Gary's Penthouse magazine. It wasn't really Gary's Penthouse. It was his brother's. His brother had been one of the last guys in the area caught in the draft. He'd been spared Vietnam but when he headed off for basic he entrusted his porno mags to Gary. They had been, and remained, a wonderment. This was different, as different as a real pussy is from a foldout glossy. This was a guy's dick, hard and in the flesh, inches from his face. Nick felt his own excitement ratchet up a notch, or two, or four. He wonder if the button jeans guy was queer. Most be, he figured if he was jerking off for a guy. The fact that he had done the very same thing never crossed his mind. It never occurred to him that his excitement at watching the guy jerk off might be considered queer. No doubt, many will find that difficult to swallow. No one can be that sheltered. But it was true. Nick felt as if he was a disinterested outside observer, not a participant. The thought that he might be a fairy was utterly foreign to him, even as he sat on a toilet, in a stall, dick throbbing, watching another man jerk off. The guy turned away and Nick once more felt a surge of disappointment. Disappointment morphed into panic when button jeans stepped to the front of the stall and peeked in at him, gazing openly through the crack between the door and frame. Nick hunched over his lap as if expected a blow. "Relax man. Let me watch." Button jeans' voice was low but he didn't whisper. Nick heard neither demand or pleading in the voice. He relaxed, a little. He looked up but didn't sit up, not yet. "It's cool brother. I ain't gonna bite." Button jeans face split into an enormous grin that lit up his eyes. "Not unless you want me to anyway." Nick had no idea what the guy was talking about but his eyes had returned to watching the slow movements of button jeans' hand over his cock. The guy's cock looked huge. Nick wasn't small, at least not small enough that he ever felt weird in the locker room shower but this guy's was easily an inch or more longer. Button jeans' took in Nick's gaze. "You like it? Like my cock? Come on then, fair's fair, let me see yours." Almost without being aware of it, Nick sat up straight on the john. He didn't touch his dick. He let it stand on its own, bobbing in the dark curl of his pubes. "Oh, beautiful dick, man. Shit, don't hide that thing from me." Nick's eyes jerked to button jeans' face. The man's eyes were glued to his dick. He saw no evidence of mockery in the man's face. He had heard none in his voice. Emboldened by the man's compliment, Nick reached for his dick. "Oh yeah man, go ahe..." They both heard the door opening at the same time. There was a small jog around a wall that prevented anyone outside from seeing anyone inside when the door opened. It gave button jeans just enough time to dart into the second stall before their guest walked in the bathroom proper. Nick resumed his hunched-over position, feeling trapped. He heard the newcomer fumble with his belt and zipper. He waited but heard nothing more. He glanced over his shoulder without leaning back. Through the small hole, he could just make out the newcomer's finger, beckoning. Nick obeyed. The guy was in a suit. Nick had very little experience with suits but this one looked pretty cheap. His dick was hanging out. It was only half-hard. Nick looked away. The sound of worn leather shuffling across tile echoed in the room. Nick almost groaned as suit man peeked in his stall, then leaned over to peek in button jeans' stall. Nick heard the stall door next to his open. By swaying back and forth in front of the crack between the door and frame he could see the two men were holding each other's cock. Suit man put his hand on the top of Nick's door and pulled on it. "Open up. The more the merrier." Suit man's voice was high and whatever command it tried to convey was lost in its whiny timbre. "He's fine. Let him be." Button jeans' voice was quiet but the words carried an edge Nick had not heard earlier. Suit man snorted. "The stuck up ones bug me, that's all." Button jeans stepped back. Nick could no longer see him. "He's not stuck up. He's nervous." There was no missing the edge in his voice now. "Know what bugs me?" He didn't wait for an answer. "Pushy assholes who look a gift horse, literally, in the mouth. Beat it." "Hey fella, who do you think..." Suit man's voice was even whinier. "I'm the guy who was going to suck your dick until you opened your mouth. Beat it." "Fuck you. This is a public restroom." Button jeans' voice was quiet now but Nick could hear easily enough. So could suit man. Button jeans made it clear he knew who suit man was and that if he saw him in here again, or if mall security showed up after he left, he would post his bail and when the time was right he would find suit man and kick his ass. Suit man hustle away, huffing in indignation. Nick took the opportunity to pull his pants up. He hurried from the stall, ignoring the guy in the jeans and fled. He was late. He'd never been late before. He was sure he was going to get fired. The manager never said a word, however. Nick kept busy, flipping burgers and making root beer floats, trying not to remember the look of the guy's cock, or the scruffy beard, or the clear blue eyes. -- When he jerked off that night, it was the guy in jeans he thought of. He found his left hand reaching below his balls, rubbing lightly over his asshole, not sure why he was doing it but enjoying the way it felt. He brought his fingers to his nose. Instead of being grossed out, he found the pungent musky scent exciting. Without conscious thought, he stuck one finger in his mouth then reached down once again and pushed the finger inside his ass, just barely. His finger wasn't very wet and it hurt too much to push deeper. His cock exploded almost instantly and he bucked hard enough to make the bed jump. When he pulled his finger out, he grimaced. The nail was lined with brown. He held the hand away from his body and he used his right hand to wipe off his chest and belly. He awkwardly pulled on a pair of sweats one-handed before making his way to his bathroom. He scrubbed his finger in water as hot as he could stand it, disgusted with himself. That was the first time anything found its way into his ass. -- He stayed away from the mall bathroom for a week. Telling his mom he was working a double, he spent over four hours, most of it in the john. He watched two guys jerk off. He let another watch him stroking in the stall but didn't cum. He didn't admitted it to himself but Nick was hoping the guy with the blue eyes and button jeans would show up. He waited as long as he could before hurrying to work. He was part of the closing crew. It was almost one in the morning when, at home, he eased the screen door closed, trying but failing to keep the rusty spring from squeaking. His mom was a heavy sleeper but if she woke she often would insist upon getting up and asking how work had been, as if, by some miracle, work would have been different than any other night. The only sound coming from the downstairs bedroom was his mother's not-so-soft snores. His thoughts had been racing all evening. He had spent the evening with an almost perpetual boner. His girlfriend was away for the summer, a Bible camp counselor. Neither of them seemed to care, both allowing the relationship to fade without consciously admitting the fact. He would miss her when he went away to school but that is not what he was missing tonight. Tonight, he missed having her to kiss and hold and cuddle. They never did more than heavy petting but tonight that would have been an immense relief. He half convinced himself she might give him a hand job if only she were here. All evening at work, against his wishes, his mind had wandered back to the feel of his finger rubbing over his asshole. He remembered how it had felt to push it inside his ass, even a little way. As his hands were mindlessly flipping burgers, he had found himself imagining unthinkable acts, not just thinking the unthinkable but pondering the difficulties and ways around them. A Summer of Firsts Ch. 02 Nick continues to deal with his newly acknowledged feelings and desires. There is MFM sex in this chapter but I have chosen to leave it in the Gay Male category. It continues Chap 1 of "Summer of Firsts Re-Imagined". Thanks, as always, to LarryInSeattle for his editing assistance. If I managed to insert a post-edit error please let me know. I don't bother to re-post the correction but I do correct my final copy. Oh, and while I appreciate having any errors pointed out, a single exclamation point will suffice to make your point. Peace. Enjoy. ============ Loretta fell to her knees and working her head between Nick and her husband, she took Jack's cock into her mouth. She held it there as it grew soft in her mouth. Nick's eyes fell from Jack's and he stared at the side of Loretta's face. He extended his hand and tentatively, slowly began to brush the young woman's hair, posed to jerk his hand away if she objected. Loretta turned and smiled at him. Her smile melted his uncertainty and when she leaned forward, Nick kissed her. One of Jack's hands joined his, stroking his wife's hair. Jack's other rested along the side of Nick's head, his fingers rubbing the back of Nick's head and neck. Nick loved the feel of Jack's hand on his head; he loved the taste of the man's cock and cum. He discovered he loved it even more when lifted off the tongue of the beautiful woman who had been his first real crush in that time before men began to occupy more of his thoughts than women. He realized he'd rather be kissing Jack and felt guilty. Loretta had been nice to him, nicer than he imagined most women would be if they discovered he'd been sucking off their husband. Nick tried to process that idea, that a woman could be okay sharing her husband, not just sharing him but sharing him with another man. That shit never came up in Bible school. Nick's body stiffened and he kissed Loretta harder when a hand touched his cock. He wasn't sure if it was hers or Jack's. He leaned back, breaking the kiss, and Loretta smiled at him. It was her hand. "Nicky," she tilted her head and looked at him. "Nope, you're not 'Nicky' any more are you? Nick, you have a gorgeous cock. Did you know that?" She turned her head to look up at her husband. "Does he have a gorgeous cock, baby?" Jack smiled at his wife as he winked at Nick. "Yup, babe. Nick's got a first-rate cock alright. Now if you'd move, I owe little bro here a blow-job." Loretta pulled her face into a faux pout as she turned from her husband to gaze at Nick. "Nick, Shelly tells me you've been dating the Niemeyer girl." Nick nodded, not seeing the point of telling Loretta or Jack that he and Lori had already decided to call it quits, deciding they'd never be more than friends. "I know it's not polite but, uh, have you two fucked?" She was right it wasn't polite. Nick was disappointed in her. Lori was a friend, a good friend and would always be a good friend. Nick didn't mean to stare but he did. Loretta dropped her gaze as he stood. She put her arms around his shoulders. "Don't be mad at me. I'm not trying to be a bitch. I should have known you'd never talk about that. I'm sorry." She stepped back and kissed him on the cheek. "The two of you have got me tied up in knots. I'm so horny I could screw Principal Harris." She shuddered and made a gagging sound. "No, I'm not. Gross." She put a hand on Nick's cheek and turned his face towards her. "I think it would be nice to make love to you. That's all I'm trying to say." "What the hell, Retta? He's my boyfriend." Nick jerked his head around at that. Boyfriend? Jack smiled at him and rubbed the side of his face with one hand. Without thinking, Nick pressed his cheek against the callused but warm hand. Nick felt like he was standing on the edge of high cliff, unbidden, an illustration from his Bible of Jesus being tempted by Satan sprang into his head and he stiffened. Boyfriend? Is that what he wanted to be? Some guy's boyfriend? He pulled his head away and his eyes grew wide. He looked at Jack, at Loretta. They were no longer smiling. They did not look evil. They looked worried, concerned. Nick couldn't breathe. He felt sick to his stomach. His ears roared. Husband and wife stepped toward each other. Loretta reached out for him and Nick stood and stepped away. He could see their mouths moving but heard nothing. He saw only worry in their faces. But Satan was the great deceiver wasn't he? How did Nick expect him to look? Pitchfork and cloven hooves? He stuffed one leg then the other in his jeans and fastened them. The rest of his clothes he gathered in his arms, holding them against his belly. He ran though the kitchen and out the door, Jack and Loretta following, mouths still working but unheard. They did not try to touch or hold him. He stopped long enough to vomit. He continued to retch as he fumbled his keys out of his pocket. He dropped into the seat of his Pinto, unmindful of the scorching vinyl against his bare back. Jack and Loretta, still naked, stared. Loretta looked like she was crying. Jack simply looked worried. Nick started the car, pulled the stick shift into reverse and stepped on the gas. The roaring in his ears grew louder. As his vision began to spiral down to a single point of light he could see Jack yelling something. The world winked out. God he hated it when his mom hovered and fussed. He wanted to scream. "Just leave me the fuck alone." But he could never say that to his mother. "Is he alright? Jesus look at the blood." "He's fine. I think. He's got a nice gash where his chin hit the wheel. That's the only thing I see bleeding. Come on help me get him on the ground." Nick wasn't sure why his dad was here. His dad died a long time ago. He barely remembered him. Strong hands, rough skin hands, but gentle hands gripped his shoulders. He heard, more than he felt, his back squeak along the sticky vinyl of the car seat. He stood, more or less, and much softer, much warmer hands went around his waist. "Come on Nicky. Lay down. Here's your shirt. Put your head on that." Nick did as he was told. The grass felt scratchy against his bare back. The sun was in his eyes. He put one arm over them. He heard a car start. His car? He started to raise up to look but the warm hand pushed down on his chest. "Uh-uh, lie still." The car engine shut off. It continued to try to keep running for a minute. Yeah, that had to be his Pinto. "Come on little bro. Stand up. Let's get you inside. Last thing I need is for someone to drive by while we're out here bare assed with a bloody man on the ground. We'll have half the county deputies here in an hour. Come on." Nick stood, as two sets of hands tugged on his arms. His stomach rolled. A strong arm went around his shoulders. Nick felt his feet start to move. He felt as if he was watching the action more than initiating it. "I'll get his clothes." The woman said. Nick realized that wasn't his mom's voice. "Naw, come inside first and put on some clothes babe." And that voice couldn't be his father's. Memory hit him, a sucker punch to the gut. He tried to jerk away. Tried to turn back to his car. "Knock it the fuck off Nick!" Jack snapped. Other than the day he got into the face of the guy with the cheap suit, Nick had never heard irritation or anger in the man's voice. "You need to lay down for a spell little brother. You fell out on us man. Out cold. You whacked your chin and you've got blood all over your chest. You can't go home like that. You can't go anywhere until you lay your ass down and have some water. Then, and only then, you can get up, clean up and then if you feel the need to go, go. You don't need to run like the devil's on your tail. No one is going to force you to stay. Nick jerked his head up to look at the man. "Devil," he whispered in a shaky voice. "You the devil?" Jack stared at him for a moment as Loretta joined them. "Oh Nick, you fucked up mess you." Jack shook his head. "Yeah, Nick, that's me the devil. And this," he jerked his head at Loretta. "This is the queen of Sheba, my consort, Mrs. Mephistopheles. Jesus, man." Jack shook his head as Loretta looked at the two of them, not sure what was going on. Her husband urged Nick toward the house. "Come on. If I'm the devil would I offer you a glass of ice-water you fucking dope? Come on before His Satanic Majesty gets his naked ass arrested for public indecency." Jack helped Nick back to the couch. The couch where just a few minutes ago, Nick had sucked Jack off for the second time that day. Nick tried not to think about that. After he was settled, Jack disappeared down the hall. Loretta appeared and took his place, a plastic glass of water in one hand. "I don't think ice-water would be a good idea yet." She handed the glass to Nick. He took a sip and waited to hear back from his stomach. Hearing no complains, he risked a larger drink. "We do have ice though," Loretta said with a smile. Her eyes dropped to Nick's chin and then his chest and the smile slipped from her face. "Holy crap Nick. You look like you were in a knife fight." "Bullshit," Jack snapped as he returned to the living room. "As the only one in this room to have ever been in a knife fight, I call bullshit. What he looks like is a little kid who was running in the house, fell and hit his chin on the coffee table." Nick glared at the man. Jack, gazed back mildly, as he sat a basin of water on the coffee table. Nick dipped a washcloth into the basin and then squeezed it out. "Hold still Britt." "Britt?" Loretta asked, confused, looking from Nick to Jack. Nick glared at Jack who began to smile, knowing Nick got the joke. "Britt's the guy in the Magnificent Seven who throws a knife and doesn't use a gun. James Coburn," Nick explained, still pissed. Loretta shrugged, still confused. Men are so bizarre she'd given up on understanding them. She does understand, these two need to settle whatever it is that's going on. "I'm going out back to lay out. The sun's low enough I shouldn't burn." Jack grunted. Nick said nothing. He hissed as the washcloth touched the cut on his chin. "I'm not a little kid." "No? Then quit acting like one. What the fuck was that all about?" "About? It was about this, about sin. I've turned myself into an abomination." "Give me a fucking break." "'If a man lies with a male as with a woman, both of them have committed an abomination; they shall surely be put to death; their blood is upon them', Leviticus 20:13," Nick whispers softly. Jack's voice was softer now. "Little bro, you really believe that?" "Ye..." Nicks voice choked up and he settled for a nod. Jack's sigh was full of sympathy. "I'm afraid I can't help with that one, little brother. Once upon a few years ago, I beat myself up over it too. You'll have to work through it on your own. I will say this much, I think that's a bunch of bullshit. You want to wring your hands and hate yourself over some stone-age shit written by a bunch of fuckers who took forty years to cross a hundred miles of desert, be my guest. But if you're going to kill yourself over it don't do it in front of my house." Nick stared at the man, baffled. "You almost backed out in front of a semi doing about 80 mile an hour you dumb fuck. Didn't you realize that? What the fuck you think we were screaming at you for? If you hadn't fainted and run off into the culvert, they'd be scraping the parts of you that could be found off the black top. And I'd be trying to help Retta forget what she had seen." Jack was pissed again, Nick could see that. "Don't ever fucking scare my wife like that again you little shit. I don't give a fuck what you did for her in school or how much I like your stupid, fucked up ass. I will clean your ever-loving-mother-fucking plow. I'll fuck you up so bad your old man will cry." "Can't. He's dead." If Nick thought that would buy him so sympathy he was badly mistaken. "I know that, you fucktard. That's how fucking bad I'll mess you up. Even the fucking dead will cry. Get it? Mother fucker." There was no question Jack was pissed. But the fact that he'd continued to wash the blood of Nick's chin and was now sponging the blood of his chest, sent a somewhat mixed message. "You don't think what we did was wrong?" Nick's voice was low. Jack heard the undercurrent of fear and loathing. He reminded himself Nick was in many ways still a kid. His anger fell away. He struggled to answer Nick, his own memories threatening to overwhelm him. "No, I don't." Jack wrung the washcloth out and resumed washing Nick's chest, working his way down to his belly. He tried not to stare at the first couple of dark hairs sprouting around the nipples. "No," he continued, distracting himself from Nick's body. "Wrong is burning little girls up with jellied gasoline. Wrong is dumping so much shit into the Cuyahoga River that it fucking catches on fire, on fire! Wrong is cutting a man's balls off and stuffing them in his mouth before you lynch him for having black skin. Wrong is piling enough H-bombs up to kill us all a dozen times over. That's wrong. Loving each other, enjoying each other, how is that wrong?" "It's not natural." Nick whispered. "It's not? Really?" Jack shook his head. He'd wiped off all the blood but somehow his hand continued to drag the washcloth over Nick's belly. "So you, what? Found a book and read about men sucking men? Someone told you? I got it." Jack's voice dripped acid sarcasm. "You're mom taught you? No? Did you teach you? No one taught me. It's just there, inside, part of you. No one can teach you to love another man you dumb fuck. No one can teach you to love, period. Of course it's natural." The kid looked so miserable, so lost that Jack couldn't help himself. He dropped the washcloth on the floor, put his arms around Nick, ignoring his wet chest, and kissed him. At first he didn't respond. Jack was ready to let go, not just of the kid's body but of trying to help him, when Nick's arms went around him. They kissed for a while. When Nick pulled away and buried his face against the man's chest, Jack let him. He ignored Nick's tears and shuddering body, as he knew Nick both expected and wanted him to. Neither of them had noticed there had been no slam of the kitchen door. Neither of them noticed Loretta peeking around the doorway. She had tears on her cheeks but she was smiling. She tiptoed to the kitchen door and opened it loudly. "It's perfect out here you guys. Come and join me. I have a whole blanket we can share." She slammed the door and walked into the backyard, dashing the tears from her eyes with the back of her hands. ----- Jack stroked the side of the Nick's face. The kid's eyes were red but other than that, he looked alright. The cut on his chin had stopped bleeding. It was swelling though. Jack imagined the kid would have a pretty decent bruise. "You need a Band-Aid, little bro." He spoke softly, a half smile on his lips. "You never got that blow job. Want it now?" Nick shook his head. "Want to go?" Another shake. "Excellent. I'm glad." Jack rose from where he'd been kneeling. "Sit up, slowly. Finish the water while I get a Band-Aid." When Nick sat up, the room tilted one way, then the other, in gradually decreasing arcs, like a quarter rocking to rest atop a bar. He finished the water in one long gulp. His stomach seemed fine. He looked at himself. There were a couple of faint smears of rust on his chest. There were several darker drops and smears on the legs of his pants. He found he didn't care. Jack returned, still naked. Nick's eyes followed the man's swaying cock as he came down the hall. He wasn't surprised to feel a stir in his pants. He was tired of pretending this was happening, that he wasn't happy that it was happening. Evil or not, unnatural or not, he thought he might have had his last freak out. "Head back." Nick obliged. Jack's steady fingers applied two butterfly band aides to the cut. "More water?" "I can get it." Nick rose, touched the arm of the couch for a second for balance, and then straightened his back. "You okay?" Nick nodded, knowing the man meant more by the question than, "you got your balance". He nodded again. "Yeah, I'm fine. Thanks." Jack's face broke into a smile. "No prob, little bro, no prob at all. Come on let's join Retta before the corn demons kidnap her." The man swung around the doorway with one hand, whooping for his wife and barged through the kitchen door. Nick watched, an amused look on his face. He shook his head, shrugged his shoulders, and picked up his glass. He filled it at the sink and walked outside. He stepped off the stoop, not bothering with the stairs, and walked around the corner of the house. The backyard was surprisingly small. It was surrounded on three sides by corn. It was early enough in the year the corn was barely knee high. There were no houses visible. Nick heard no tractors groaning in the distance. It was very quiet and very private. "Anybody want water? Beer?" He called, surprised that his voice sounded normal to his ears. "No, I'm good," Loretta called. Jack didn't reply. His mouth covered one of Loretta's nipples. She laughed. "I think he's good too. Come on. Join us." What she meant by "join us" was unclear to Nick. From what he'd gleaned so far, that phrase encompassed everything from "sit on the blanket with us" to "let's run away to an island and fuck for the rest of our lives" and everything in between. Feeling bold, he sat the plastic cup down in the grass and pushed his jeans off his hips without bothering to unbutton them. Loretta smiled at him and he felt his dick notice her look. He glanced at Jack. The man was still teasing his wife's nipple with his mouth but his eyes were on Nick's growing cock. Jack lifted his head from his wife's breast and rolled over on his back. "I think we need to take a breather. There's been too much drama for my blood. Nick, lay down beside us but just relax. I understand there's a whirlwind of shit going on inside your head but no more freaking out. Cool it for a while. Enjoy the sun. Then we'll see." Nick shrugged. "Okay, but I want to make love to Loretta." Loretta giggled. "What the fuck, man? Are you a schizo or something? One minute you're running for your life, the next you tell me you want to fuck my wife. Wow, that's some pretty heavy shit you laying on me." Nick shrugged which turned Loretta's giggling into outright laughter. Nick sat on the edge of the blanket. Jack was amused, but not surprised, when the kid paused to brush the grass off his feet before bringing them onto the blanket. Nick rolled onto his right side, his left leg and arm draped across the still snorting Loretta. She pulled her arm up and cupped the kid's head when he buried his face into the side of her neck. On her opposite side, her husband snuggled in beside her. He was a little lower, his head on her breast. His leg met Nick's, his arm lay against the soft skin of Loretta's midriff, his fingers brushing Nick's hip. Nick's hand found the man's hair and his fingers combed through the tangles, brushing the top of Loretta's breast and collar bone. Nick kissed the side of her neck and tried to relax, tried to sleep but to little avail. He, or his mind, relaxed, a little. At least he stop yelling at himself. The voice that delighted in telling him he was sick and disgusting was quiet. Nick wondered if, just maybe, the voice was dead. He wondered, then concentrated and the feel of Jack's fingers on his hip and the feel and smell of Loretta's hair on his face. His guilt over earlier wishing he was kissing Jack and not Loretta stirred, but he shoved that voice in the same sound-proof cage as the you-are-a-sick-disgusting-queer voice. As he nuzzled Loretta's neck, his dick stiffened against her side. His dick had been hard, off and on, most of the day. He'd been close to blowing his wad a half dozen times. The only time he'd been able to forget the ache in his balls was when he was picturing Satan or unconscious. He decided that even if sent him straight to hell, he had to cum. And soon. A Summer of Firsts Ch. 02 He moved his hand from Jack's head and cupped Loretta's left breast. Her body wiggled against his but she was silent. Nick's face was pressed against the side of her neck. He could not see Jack's eyes following the movement of his hand, neither could he feel Jack's own erection growing and pressing into Loretta's other side. As for Loretta, she was happy. She liked happy. There had been, and no doubt would be in the future, times when she was not, when life was a steaming pile of crap. She was not of the opinion that people were "supposed" to be happy. Happy was rare. Happy should be treasured and enjoyed and not over-analyzed. Her husband, whom she loved a great deal, held her. A young man she'd always been fond of, and who she was quickly growing, if not more fond of at the very least more protective of, held her as well. The kid was a mess, no doubt about that, but he was a good kid. He had never once made her feel stupid. Even better, he never acted like he was wasting his time on her. He acted, at a time when hardly anyone else did, even her family, like she was someone who was worth taking care of. She hadn't felt that way since her daddy ran off years ago. All she felt from her step-daddy was the creeps. It had never occurred to her, not until she had watched Jack and Nick unseen, how much alike they were. Not in appearance, not even in personality. Nick was quiet, reserved and Jack was often too open, too unconcerned. They were alike in their kindness. They were alike in that they treated her like someone important, not someone just of worth but someone of real value, someone to be treasured and appreciated and looked after and made happy. Who the fuck would not love them? She turned her head, seeking Nick's mouth. She mentally kicked her herself for asking about Lori. That had been a really stupid thing to ask. Of course, they hadn't had sex. As her lips found Nick she knew she wanted to be his first, had to be his first. She might be his only. If true, she couldn't bear the thought he'd look back on it with horror or disgust. If Nick never slept with another woman, she wanted him to remember it with a smile, remember her. And be happy. She moved away from Nick enough to get her arm from under his head and between their bodies. It was an uncomfortable position but she was able to get her fingers around Nick's cock. Even though it was an uncomfortable position, she wasn't worried. She knew it would only be temporary. Reading her mind, Jack rolled away from her very slightly, maintaining contact, but giving her enough room to spread out. She rolled on her hip toward Nick. She moved her hand from his dick to his right hip and her other hand stroked his left side. She pushed upward with her hand. He understood and rolled to his knees. He hesitated then. Loretta shifted her bottom and brought her left leg in front of him and then rested it beside him. The grass tickled her heel. She had succeeded in getting Nick between her legs. She did a half sit-up and put her arms around his neck. When she laid back onto the blanket, he stayed with her. He looked so serious she had to smile. She recognized the face. It was the same look he wore when taking a test. She didn't want him to feel like it was a test. She cupped his face in both of her hands. She could feel the still soft hair that grew on his cheeks. "Hi Nick," she whispered with a smile. "Hi Loretta." She raised up and kissed the two Band-Aids on his chin. "I'm sorry you got hurt." "It doesn't hurt. My fault." She put a finger across his lips and shook her head. "No one's fault. Shit happens." Nick smiled. "You should put that on a bumper sticker." Loretta pulled his head down. He moaned softly into her mouth as they kissed and one of her hands left his face to wrap around his dick. Her hand urged him forward. He followed. He almost shot his wad when she drug the head of his dick up and down her slit. She was so wet and her skin, her pussy, was so hot. He expected it to be warm, like a mouth, but it was warmer than that. It was hot. Beneath him, Loretta shifted her hips and her fingers tugged. Nick lowered his hips and was inside her. Their lips were still pressed together. Loretta's cheeks puffed out from the force of his gasp. Nick was afraid to move. It felt as if he'd started to cum already. This was nothing like he'd ever imagined. Her pussy felt velvety on his dick, almost like when he'd wrap a hot wash rag around his boner and jerked off in the tub. But her pussy was softer than any wash rag, any cloth he'd ever touched except maybe the silk of one of his dad's old ties. And a wash rag never closed itself on his dick. He could feel Loretta's pussy squeezing, clenching at his dick. Her pussy was trying to pull his dick in deeper. He risked pressing harder. His dick bumped against something firmer, like a rubber ball but not quite as hard. Loretta moaned and he pulled his hips back. He broke the kiss, not completely, just enough so he could apologize for hurting her. He never got the chance. Loretta's left hand grasped his butt and pulled him toward her. "Don't stop Nick. That feels wonderful. Just put that lovely cock of yours inside me and stay awhile. Please? You aren't hurting me baby." Nick thought she must be nuts. He didn't want to go anywhere. He didn't want to hurt her was all. Her right hand caressed his left shoulder as they resumed their kiss. He felt another hand on his butt. He opened one eye. Jack was smiling at him. Jack winked. Nick interpreted the wink and the hand on his ass as signals that Jack was okay with this, that Jack approved. Nick loved the feel of Loretta's pussy around his dick. She'd asked for him to stay inside her but the need to move was becoming over-powering. He lifted his hips from her, slowly, shivering at the feeling of her pussy clinging to him. It didn't want to break contact. When he felt the soft, looser feel of her outer petals folding over the head of his dick, he held his hips still and then reversed direction. The hand she had on his butt moved to his cheek and she pushed his head up. "That's right sweetie. Nice and slow for me, okay? I want you to make love to me, baby. We can fuck later. Right now I want to watch your face, watch your eyes, while you make love to me nice and slow. Can we do that?" Nick nodded, afraid to trust his voice. Loretta left her hand on his face as he moved inside her. Jack's fingers stroked his ass and side but beyond that, the man simply tried to take in the look on his wife's face, on Nick's face. There was no way Nick could last very long. It was his first time and it was after hours of fooling around and hours of near perpetual horniness. His orgasm took him by surprise. He couldn't have stopped it if he wanted. This, too, was different. When he jerked off he knew when he was going to cum. He didn't usually bother but if he wanted, he could stop, rest, and then go back. Not this time, not now. He was sliding back into Loretta, loving the look on her face, when his balls clenched, his ass contracted, and suddenly he was cumming. His body shook and he pushed back into her, his dick bumping against the firm ball at the top of her pussy. He heard her gasp but he couldn't stop pushing. His legs straightened, his back arched. Jack's fingers tightened on his ass. He heard a dull roar, a growl, and for a moment, was afraid he was going to faint again before he realized it was his own throat making that animal sound. Loretta was biting her lip and her fingers rubbed his cheek. She was smiling. Beside him, he heard the man croaking. "Attaboy, Nick. Nice one, little brother. Nice one." Suddenly his body weighed a ton. Nick could not hold himself up any longer. He collapsed on top of Loretta, resting on his elbows. His legs were still stiff. He laid there, body twitching on occasion and gasping, as Loretta and Jack soothed his body with soft caresses. Nick started mumbling, "I'm sorry," into Loretta's ear. He wasn't sure what he was apologizing for, maybe for cumming so soon, maybe for hurting her if he had, maybe for freaking out earlier, and maybe because as wonderful as she had felt, it was Jack's hand on his back he was most aware of. "Shh, baby. Sorry? For what? That was wonderful baby. Totally wonderful. I'm totally happy, totally satisfied. Just rest a bit, baby." Nick opened his mouth and then closed it. He was going to ask her if she had had an orgasm. He was sure she hadn't. Christ, it had taken, what a minute, two minutes tops. Everything he'd read told him to expect this, to not be surprised or disappointed. So he tried not to be. Whether purposefully or not, Nick had lowered his head to rest on the right side of Loretta's neck. Jack, who throughout had kept one hand on Nick's back and his foot stroking his wife's bent leg, moved closer. His arm fell across the small of Nick's back. He pushed his face against theirs. He kissed his wife, his cheek brushing against Nick's, then turned to kiss Nick. Nick kissed him back but in a perfunctory, drowsy, post-coital, hazy sort of way. The three of them cuddled this way for a time. Nick noticed that Jack and Loretta's kisses were growing more fervent, more desperate. He shifted his right leg to the outside of Loretta's left. His mostly soft dick slipped free. She gasped into her husband's mouth when that happened. The post-coital fog began to lift as Nick rolled off Loretta. His dick left a trail of cum and pussy juice atop her thigh. As he watched, Jack rose on his elbows and leaned over his wife. He was biting her lip, biting her tongue. He moved and started to do the same to her nipples. "Oh fuck yeah baby. Play with my tits. Fuck, that drives me crazy." Jack seemed happy to oblige her. Nick fondled his dick. He was eighteen, even so it would take a few minutes before his dick was ready for action again. For now, he would watch. He watched Jack's lips, teeth, and tongue torment Loretta's nipples. He watched her hand stroking the man's cock. Nick was impressed. Jack had already cum twice today and he looked good to go again. Jack kissed his way down Loretta's body. He clambered over his wife's bent leg and knelt between her thighs. Nick moved closer, wanting to watch the man's cock bury itself in Loretta's wet and sloppy pussy. He could see his jizz smeared over her pussy, see it running down the lips too, soaking the blanket and all the "wet spot" locker room jokes he had heard finally made sense. He rested his head on her hip, wondering if that was pushing it a little. Loretta's fingers in his hair reassured him it was not. His eyes opened in surprise when, instead of moving forward, Jack shuffled backward. When Jack lowered his mouth to his wife's pussy Nick's groan mingled with Loretta's moan. Jack swiped his tongue from the bottom of the slit, into her pussy and on up. His eyes found Nick's, making sure the kid saw his cum puddle on his tongue, before he swallowed it. Nick groaned again. Jack lowered his mouth once more. He began to dart his tongue into her pussy, he licked, he sucked, he slurped. His face glistened with Nick's cum and her pussy juice. When Loretta's hips began to buck, he sucked her clit into his mouth and ravaged it with his tongue. Loretta's body became rigid. She held her breath. Her husband moved quickly. He scrambled forward, grasped his cock and slammed into her. He thrust hard and fast. Nick knew he was witnessing the difference between making love and fucking. "Oh my God. Fuck me Jack. Uh-huh, oh yeah, baby," Loretta panted after releasing her breath. Inspired, Nick stretched his neck and sucked her left nipple into his mouth. As he flicked it with his tongue, Loretta's hand clutched at his head. He heard a long drawn out hiss, "Oh my fucking God!" Then her body collapsed back onto the blanket. Jack lowered himself. Nick snuggled in. They began to exchange sloppy, panting kisses as the sun touched the edge of the cornfield painting the dusty green leaves with bright orange light. A Summer of Firsts Ch. 03 Thanks again to LarryInSeattle for his help editing. Nick and Jack and Loretta continue to get to know each other. Nick surrenders his ass for the first time, at least the first time to flesh and blood. Enjoy. Let me know what works and what doesn't. =========== They lay there, a tangle of slick flesh until the mosquitoes, drawn by all that warm sweat, found them. A slap or two later and Loretta was hurrying toward the house while Jack and Nick grabbed the bottles and the blanket. They dropped the stuff on an old dented aluminum picnic table that had seen better days and followed Loretta inside. Nick stood there, scratching a particular troublesome bite on his right ass cheek as the screen door banged to a close behind him. "Jesus bro, that was some heavy shit, no?" Jack panted, his usual wide grin distorting the bottom half of his face. He surprised Nick by wrapping his arms around him and kissing him. Nick's body relaxed inside the circle of Jack's arms. They kissed for a long time, standing there just inside the side door of the kitchen. The kisses were passionate but not fervid, the kisses of two lovers who felt they had a feel for each other now. Loretta joined them. She leaned the side of her face on her husband's arm, and put one arm around each man's waist. They huddled there as the light faded from the sky. When they stepped away from each other, Nick had a hard-on again. Jack casually, wrapped his hand around the boy's cock and looked at his wife, eyes wide. "Uh-oh, whose turn is it to provide Nick a little relief?" he joked. "Not mine," Loretta replied quickly, "unless you don't want any supper." "Fine by me baby. I'll take him," Jack said, kissing his wife softly. He nodded toward the back of the house, questioning Nick with his eyes. Nick shook his head and laughed at the comical look of surprise that fell over Jack's face. "Are you leaving, Nick," Loretta asked, her fingers lightly resting on his forearm, ignoring the antics of her husband. "Can't you stay? At least for dinner?' Nick tried not to read too much into the "at least for dinner" comment but he felt hope rise in his chest. "I can stay but let me help." Loretta smiled. "Deal. You can set the table. Go relax till then." Nick shook his head. "Let me help. What are you fixing?" "Pork chops, fried potatoes, and corn or green beans, depends on what I see first in the root cellar." "Potatoes in the cellar?" Loretta nodded as Jack stood, his head swiveling from his wife to Nick and back. Nick pointed at a door along the back wall of the kitchen, one eyebrow raised and Loretta nodded again. She was tying on an apron as Nick opened the door to the cellar. He felt above his head for the chain he knew would be there. He'd never been in Loretta's house but he'd been in plenty of old farmhouses. Instead of a chain his arm encounter a string. He smiled, a bitter half smile. His mom would have pointed out, later of course and out of ear shoot, that people with class had pull chains on their basement lights, not cheap string. Nick pushed his mother out his head. He'd no need to deal with her until Monday afternoon. He tugged and the stairwell was filled with harsh yellow light. The smell of damp earth filled his nose. It wasn't a dirty smell but a rich smell. He knew already, standing there at the top of the stairs, that the cellar would be tidy. It would have a dirt floor and damp rock walls with crumbles of loose mortar appearing to glow where they had fallen, but he would not find a rotting potato, or rotting anything else, in a cellar under Loretta's rule. He spotted the potato bin at once. He had been built by someone who knew what they were doing. It was off the ground and had several large flat shelves, with lattice bottoms. The potatoes were spread out evenly and with plenty of circulation. He grabbed several, pivoted to the shelves besides the bin, and grabbed a large Mason jar that caught his eye. "Five bean salad okay instead of corn?" he asked setting the jar and potatoes on the floor. He turned, leaned against the door frame and brushed the loose dirt off the bottoms of his feet. When he looked up Loretta smiled her approval. Nick didn't feel the action was praise worthy. What sort of clod would track more dirt on a floor that he needed to? "Fine by me," Loretta chuckled. "But you have to sleep with Mr. Gas bag over there. I'll take the guest room." She looked over her shoulder at Nick. "You can stay the night can't you?" Nick nodded and Loretta smiled before turning back to what she was doing. "Leave the potatoes by the sink. I'll take care of 'em after I finish with these biscuits." Nick ignored her and crossed to the sink where he found the vegetable brush he'd known would be resting in a little porcelain holder on the window sill. In the glass, he saw his own reflection, the kitchen lights and the ghostly flashes of fireflies dancing with the first stars of the night. Nick silently chanted "star light star bright" to himself and made his wish. It didn't take long to wash the potatoes. Loretta directed him to the cutting board and a knife. "You want 'em peeled?" he asked. "Not unless you do," Loretta replied. "All the vitamins..." "Are in the skin," Nick finished for her and they both giggled. Looking bemused, Jack hopped up to sit on the countertop. Loretta shrieked. "Jack! Get you bare butt off my kitchen counter. Honestly," she stammered. As she shooed him off with floured hands. He smiled as he hopped down and bowed. "As you wish, madam," he intoned in a passable English accent. Loretta giggled and floured both of his cheeks by pressing his face together with her hands and kissing him. Nick smiled as the biscuits were forgotten for a minute or two. "Get us all another beer okay babe," she asked as she gave him a quick I-have-things-to-do-mister kiss. Jack bowed again and turned to the refrigerator. Things went quickly after that. They ate in silence. Nick would never tell his mother this but he'd finally found someone who made better biscuits than her. Jack chased them into the living room, assuring them he'd feel guilty if he didn't do the dishes. Nick settled back on the couch, amazed at how quickly he'd forgotten he was naked. Loretta had given Jack her apron. Focused on the meal, his cock had grown quiet, now watching Loretta bend over to thumb through a milk crate of LPs, he felt it stirring. She had a beautiful ass and the cleft mound of her pussy was easy to see between her legs. Yet, dick getting hard or not, Nick acknowledged to himself that while he'd had fun with Loretta, it was Jack he really wanted. He felt like a jerk for thinking that way but, nonetheless, it was the truth. She lowered the needle, there was a hiss and then unfamiliar music filled the air. Loretta turned to him with a smile. He made no effort to hide his boner. She settled onto the couch and curled up beside him. She rest her hand on his dick, in an almost companionable fashion. "You like Jefferson Airplane?" she inquired. "It's their first album," she continued, not waiting for his reply. "Well, not really, but the first one with Grace and without Grace it ain't Airplane as far as I'm concerned," she clarified, at least to herself. Nick had no idea who or what she was talking about. On Saturday and Sunday his mom listened to Porter Wagner, Bill Anderson, and Lawrence Welk. His confusion regarding the music didn't bother him. He didn't feel like a total spaz like he did at school when classmates would talk about Zeppelin and Clapton and he had no option except to nod his head and offer and occasional "yeah, cool" to the conversation. He listened, not worrying for a change, and thought he might like this music. He certainly liked the warmth of Loretta's body next to his. "Did you like making love to me, Nick?" she whispered. "Um-hm," he murmured truthfully. "It was better than I had ever imagined." He could see her nod out of the corner of his eye. When she spoke, her voice was soft but insistent. "Don't feel bad. I know you like Jack more than me. That's okay." Nick shifted to look at her. For perhaps the first time, he spoke as an adult. "That's not true. When I think about sex, about fucking, I imagine Jack more than you but I don't like him more than you. I love you both." His face may not have shown it but his own words shocked him. It made a little more sense in Loretta's case. He'd known her for years, known the real girl, woman, not the white trash stereotype everyone tried to mold her into. Jack, he barely knew, but the man had watched out for him, protected him. "Okay, I love you. Jack, maybe that's a crush not love," he amended as Loretta began to giggle. "What's not love?" Jack asked as he tossed the apron behind him and entered the living room. "Nicky was telling me he loved me but only has a crush on you," Loretta replied laughing, as Nick's face flamed. "You tell my wife you fucking love her little bro?" Jack demanded, his face flat. Nick started to stammer something but Jack couldn't hold it and began to laugh. "Of course you love her. Who doesn't? She's fucking perfect," he whispered the last as he bent to kiss his wife, a wife who still had Nick's cock in one hand. Jack turned his head to look at Nick. "I don't mind sharing but don't try to take her away or we'll have us a little problem." Nick nodded, more amused than threatened. Did the dope think he was after Loretta? "Don't be a simp, honey. I'm the one who should be worried, not you," Loretta offered, honest as ever. "He loves me but he's got the major hots for you, honey-pie." She patted Jack's cheek affectionately as she rose. "In fact, I think I'll let you boys have the couch. I'll make myself comfortable in the recliner." "That true?" Jack whispered, kneeling on the couch. "You got the hots for me, Nick?" Nick nodded. "Speak up, bro, I can't hear your brains rattle." "Yes. I have the hots for you." "Really? Now that's interesting cause at the moment I got the hots for you, too." Jack pulled at Nick's feet, tugging until he was lying flat on the couch with Jack kneeling between his legs. He bent over and gave Nick's cock a couple of quick sucks before leaning further. He began to kiss Nick's nipples, then tease them with his tongue before tugging at them with his teeth. When Nick reached for his cock, Jack stopped him. "Put your hands under your head," he insisted, as he returned to teasing Nick's nipples. He kissed his way sideways, pushing his nose and face into Nick's armpit. Nick moaned and writhed beneath the older man's body. Jack kissed and nipped his way up the side of Nick's face. He tugged at the boy's lower lip with his teeth before driving his tongue into his mouth. Nick struggled to rub his dick against the man's body but Jack pressed down on him, trapping him between the couch and his body. He held Nick's arms down by leaning on his elbows, trapping him. Jack raised his head up, no smile on his face this time. "So little bro, what are you hot for? Want me to suck you?" "No," Nick grunted. "I want you to fuck me, fuck me like you did Loretta." Jack shook his head. "Man, you aren't ready for that yet. You got to take it slow. But I dig the enthusiasm." "I'm ready," Nick insisted, eyes blazing. "Fuck me." He turned his head to look at Jack's wife. "You got any lube, Crisco?" Loretta had her legs sprawled up, two fingers in her pussy and two more that appeared to be tapping out "fuck me" in Morse code atop her clit. She rose and hurried down the hallway, returning with a small squirt bottle in one hand and a towel. She folded the towel as her husband sat back on his heels. Loretta waved him toward the end of the couch and he obliged. She tugged at Nick and he moved down the couch as well. Nick raised his ass and she slipped the towel under his butt. She pulled one of Nick's leg over the edge of the couch. Then, she helped him drape the other on the back of the couch before she squeezed herself into the space at the end of the couch. She lifted Nick's head up and rested it in her lap. She leaned over him, forcing him to move his head to the side to give her room. He didn't know what she was doing until he felt something cold and wet on his cock. She pulled his balls up and the cold and wet something ran over his balls and into his ass crack. Her breasts lay heavy on his chest as she reached below his balls. Her middle finger rubbed the liquid over his asshole, then pushed inside. When she pulled her finger out of his ass, she stretched, hand opened, and Jack laid his cock in the palm of her hand. She stroked his cock, spreading the lube over the head and the shaft, before sitting leaning back against the arm of the sofa. Her upside down face smiled at Nick, who was too lost in anticipation to smile back. The look of appreciation and wonder in his eyes was enough for her. She contorted herself enough to give him a kiss before straightening up to look at her husband. Jack's smile was gone. For perhaps the first time since he'd met him, Jack appeared to Nick to be all business. "You sure about this little bro?" Jack whispered in a voice that clearly hoped the answer would be "yes". Nick answered with a quick jerk of his head. "Okay, tell me if it hurts too much," Jack muttered as he walked forward on his knees. His right hand cupped the back of Nick's left knee and lifted it, rolling his ass off the couch. His left hand gripped his cock. He began to rub the head over Nick's pucker hole. The boy began to rock his hips slightly, pushing himself against the man's cock. Nick felt the pressure on his ass build. So did the discomfort. He expected some but this was more intense than a coke bottle. As he drew a breath to say "stop", there was a brief flare of pain. The pain eased and Nick was left with a sensation of fullness. Jack continued the slow penetration of his ass. As the head and then shaft, of the hard cock slide over his prostate, the sensation of fullness spread to Nick's cock. A moment later he felt Jack's balls pressed against his ass. It was done. He'd taken all the man's cock. They rested that way until Nick's breathing eased. "You okay?" Jack asked, watching Nick's face carefully. "Oh yeah," Nick panted. He smiled. "I told you I was ready." Jack's reply was to ease his cock out of the boy's ass. Nick felt his sphincter swell as the head of the man's cock drew near. When Jack entered him again, it was quicker, not fast yet, but quicker. Nick's eyes were glued to his own cock. As Jack pistoned in and out of his ass, each stroke forced another drop of fluid out of the slit of his dick. A long strand clung to his dick. As he watched, it detached in slow-motion to disappear into his pubic hair. "More lube, babe." Jack's voice interrupted Nick's contemplation of his own cock. Loretta's breasts pressed against him. She must have squirted the lube on Jack's cock because Nick did not feel the cool liquid on his balls or ass. When she moved back, she raised her butt and sat on the arm of the couch. Nick's head lay flat on the cushion. Jack hooked his arm under Nick's knee and lifted. Nick's leg now rested on the man's chest and belly. He leaned forward, sliding easily back into the boy's ass, and began to kiss him. As they kissed, it felt to Nick as if the man's cock continued to grow. His balls were smashed against Nick's ass. He couldn't possibly be any deeper in the boy's gut that he had been but it sure felt that way. Without breaking the kiss, Jack began to fuck the boy. It wasn't the long full strokes he'd used earlier, these were quick, hard jabs that sent waves of excitement rippling through Nick's belly and chest. When Jack pulled away from the kiss, he pulled Nick's other leg from the back of the couch. He leaned into the boy's knees, rolling his ass even further into the air. He changed his strokes once more. He fucked Nick just as fast, just as hard but now he was able to pull all the way out of the boy's ass before plunging back into the newly accommodating sphincter. Nick tilted his head back. Loretta was fingering her pussy. Her juices ran down her fingers to cover the back of her hand. Nick reached up and pulled her hand away. He drew it to her mouth and began to suck on her fingers. Between his legs, Loretta's husband moaned and began to thrust with more vigor. Nick relinquished Loretta's fingers, unable to do more than absorb the sensations washing over him. Jack plunged deeply into his ass and then froze. Nick could feel the cock pulsing in his ass. He was disappointed he couldn't feel the actual jets of cum filling his ass but when Jack began to move again, his cock slid even more easily in the boy's ass. When the cock left his ass, NIck felt cum oozing down his ass crack and was glad for the towel under him. He reached for his cock but Jack pushed his hand away. As Jack took his cock in his mouth, Nick tilted his head to look at Loretta. Her face was pinched and red. Her fingers rapidly moved from her clit to plunge into her pussy and then back. She noticed Nick's gaze. The boy reached up and tugged at one of her legs. She didn't bother wondering if she should, or if Nick really wanted to or was he just trying to be nice. She simply didn't fucking care. She moved from the arm of the sofa, put on foot on the floor and the other slid between the cushion and sofa back. She squatted and covered the boy's face with her cunt. His tongue buried itself in her pussy, sucking at her wetness. Nick's hands found her hands and urged her forward. She followed his lead. She gasped when she left his tongue on her ass. Her fingers flew to her clit. She did not rub her clit. She began to slap it softly at first, then with real force as her orgasm ripped her apart. She shoved against Nick's face and her ass started to spasm around the tongue that had penetrated her. She gasped and shudder but could find no words. Jack watched from under his bangs as the boy's tongue got his wife off. He never slacked in his attention to the boy's cock. He deep-throated the organ and massaged the shaft with his tongue. When the boy came, he swallowed what he could but most ran down the boy's cock, over his balls to mingle with the cum trapped in the crack of his ass. As he came, Nick's hands closed convulsively on Loretta's ass. His face bucked against her cheeks as he fucked her with his tongue. She was never sure if she had another orgasm or the renewed anal assault had simply prolonged the one she was already having. It was too much. She pushed herself off the boy's greedy mouth and collapsed on the floor in front of the couch. She rested her head on the edge of the cushion. When her husband left Nick's cock and sat back on his heels, her eyes took in the site of his slick, shiny, and still half-hard cock. She raised up onto her knees and took Nick's cock in her mouth, wondering if she could taste her husband on the boy's cock. She licked the underside of the shaft and sucked one ball after another into her mouth but went no further. The towel beneath the boy's ass was soaked. As the two men panted above her, Loretta laughed. A Summer of Firsts - Reimagined I posted a different version of this story a few weeks ago. It had a very dark ending. If you've read that story you can skip to ALTERNATE ENDING, the first section is identical. I'm curious to see if the story is better accepted without the grim ending of the first version. Thanks yet again to LarryInSeattle for his editing assistance. Everyone depicted is over eighteen. Personally, I prefer happy endings. I hope you enjoy. ***** The first time Nick became aware that someone was watching him piss he felt nothing but surprise. What could possibly be interesting about watching someone take a leak? Nick was a bright kid, but a bit of a loner. He didn't fit into the simplistic, yet all too real, schematic of high school cliques. He played sports but sports were neither his passion nor was he a star. He wasn't a jock. He grew up on a farm but he didn't farm, had no desire to farm, took not a single Ag class and did not join the Future Farmers of America club. He wasn't a Farmer Ted. He didn't smoke weed. He wasn't a stoner. He jostled for first in his class. He took the "hard" classes, calc, and chem II, physics and advanced biology. He could have been a brain but the other brains could not overcome their distrust of someone who played baseball and ran track. They had suffered too many wedgies, locker stuffings and towel snaps for them to drop their guard. He was a bright kid but a sheltered kid. The school district he lived in was primarily rural but encompassed a part of the county that was growing exponentially as the middleclass fled across the Mississippi to escape St. Louis. He had never heard of HBO, not that it was available in his little slice of heaven. He had never eaten Chinese and never ordered delivery pizza. So, it isn't hard to imagine his confusion when he realized someone was watching him pee through a quarter-sized hole in the stall partition. He was at the mall, looking to spend his birthday money on something he wanted but that would pass his mother's "is it practical" standards, something he would need when he left for college in a few months. They weren't actually all that poor. His mother simply believed in being cautious. His parents were older, his mom a teenager during the Depression. A cautious person understood it was best to plan for the worst. Nick grew up sheltered by a woman who was certain catastrophe waited around every corner. This was especially true after his father, who he barely remembered, had manage to come in contact with a live power line while working in the barn. They weren't really poor but his cautious mother wouldn't have paid good money for cable TV, even it had made its way to the boonies. His aunts and uncles over-compensated for his lack of a father and his cautious mother. He had racked in what to him was a small fortune on his eighteenth birthday. In his family, cash was the best gift of all. His birthday was only three weeks before graduation. The proximity of his birthday to graduation had diminished the loot he received for graduation. His relatives were generous not flamboyant. Still, between the two he had a little over $300 to add to what he'd saved from working at the A&W out on highway 77. He was at the mall to buy some clothes, maybe some stuff for his dorm room. The mall, according to the transplanted city kids was a joke. It was too far from a real city to have any big stores. A Montgomery Ward store had been the mall's anchor but it closed a couple of years ago. There were still a few stores clinging to the edge of profitability but no name brand stores, unless you counted the Taco Bell in the food court. He had been trying to find jeans in his size when the giant Mountain Dew he'd gulped down with his burrito supreme caught up with him. The closest bathroom was the one by the gated and trashed-strewn "Monkey" Ward. For a moment he had worried he wasn't going to get his zipper down fast enough. When he finally freed his dick and let his bladder go, a shudder of relief washed over him. He hadn't noticed that someone was peeking at him at first. He had been absorbed in wonder at how good taking a piss could feel. The idea was so strange it took him a moment to convince himself. There was no doubt that there was an eye peering through the hole. Nick wondered if that ever had happened before and he had failed to notice it. He didn't use this restroom very often. He didn't come to the mall very often. He was finished pissing. He should simply shake, zip and go. He figured if he didn't flush, he wasn't touching anything gross so he didn't need to wash his hands. Besides, the sinks appeared to be almost as dirty as the urinals. He hesitated, unsure why. He could tell the eye in the hole was now looking at his face not his dick. He looked back. The eye in the hole dropped back to look at his dick. To his surprise Nick felt his dick start to get hard. He was a sheltered kid and a loner but he had a girlfriend. She was still a wonder to him. She had taught him how to kiss. She had let him touch her breast, through her clothes of course. She had even pressed her hand over his hard-on once. He knew what was happening to his dick. He was simply surprised it was doing it now, over nothing more than being spied on. He reminded himself he could pop a boner almost anytime, often for no apparent reason. He was a sheltered kid but it didn't take long in a locker room to discover there existed in this world men who did perverted things with other men. Such men were fags and fruits, queers and homos. They were pussies but yet should be feared. That first time, standing there holding his dick as it grew hard from another man looking at it, it did not occurred to Nick that the man in the stall might be such a man. It certainly never occurred to him that he himself might be such a man. -- He zipped up and left the bathroom, left the mall. He did not bother trying to shop further. He went home, told his mom he wasn't feeling well and went to bed after supper. His room was hot. It was one of two rooms upstairs. The other, a guest room, was empty most of the time. His mom's room was downstairs. She hated stairs. That was fine with him. Most of the time he had the upstairs to himself. As long as they didn't have company staying with them, he had his own bathroom as well. The old tub didn't have a shower but he didn't care. The old farmhouse did not have air conditioning. He had his window open, listening to the sound of the trucks passing through the night on highway 77, on their way somewhere that wasn't here. He lay on his back and the breeze blew the sheer curtains over his belly, over his dick. Bless him, he was eighteen with an eighteen year-old's cock and hormones. He got hard as fast as his eighteen year-old heart could pump his cock full of blood. He jerked off. He jerked off thinking, not of the feel of his girlfriend's breast under his hand as he usually did, but of the eye in the wall. He jerked off for the eye, knowing the eye wanted him to but not quite knowing he want to as well. He wiped his spunk off his chest and belly with a tee shirt. He did his own laundry. It was easier that way. As he wiped up the jizz, it finally occurred to him that maybe the guy in the stall was a queer. He found the idea vaguely exciting. He'd always thought queers were something confined to New York, California, and Europe. The idea that there might be one living and breathing right here in this ass end of the Illinois made the place feel, for lack of a better word, sophisticated. He went back the next day, explaining to his mother he wouldn't be going to work because he wasn't feeling well and still needed to do some shopping. She was lost in "The Young and the Restless" and just gave him a grunt good-bye. At the mall, he went straight to the bathroom. It was empty so he went to the men's clothing store. He found a couple of pairs of jeans that weren't bell bottoms and a couple of shirts. He made his way back to the bathroom. Someone was in the stall. He couldn't tell if it was the same person or not. He set his bag down, walked to the urinal and peed. He stood back further than usual, making sure his dick was not hidden inside the urinal. He watched the eye, not his stream. The eye jerked up and down, eyeing his face and his cock but mostly his cock. He was almost totally hard before he finished. Without stopping to consider what he was doing, he started to pump his dick after he shook it off. It only took a couple of strokes to get him totally hard. A soft voice from the stall said, "Yeah kid beat that meat. Fuck yeah." He came, hard. Ropes of white jizz arched from his cock and into the urinal. As the last jet fell short, barely missing his sneakers, Nick had a moment of panic, not about his shoes but at what he had just done. He knew masturbation was wrong. It was a sin. That was in the Bible. Not only had he been masturbating, he had been doing it right out in the open, in front of some stranger in a bathroom. He shoved his dick back in his pants, zipped up, and fled, almost forgetting the bag with his new clothes. That was the first time he jerked off for another guy. -- He told himself he was never going to do that again. It took him three days before he went back. He left early for work, telling his mom he was picking up some extra hours. The bathroom was empty and he swallowed a surge of disappointment mixed with relief. He was almost to the door when he stopped. He turned and looked at the stall. It was empty. Did he want to watch? The sound of approaching footsteps made up his mind for him. He ducked into the stall and was fumbling his jeans down when the door to the bathroom opened. He sat, hunched over his legs and listened to the guy piss, flush, and leave. So did the next guy and the one after that. He glanced at his watch and saw that he needed to leave or he'd be late for work. He was reaching for his pants when he heard the door open again. Footsteps echoed across the tiled floor. Nick waited for the sound of a zipper but it didn't come. He waited for the hissing ring of piss on porcelain. That didn't come either. Nick leaned back and peered through the hole. The guy's cock looked huge, framed in the open V of button fly jeans. The guy appeared to have his shirt off as well. Nick tilted his head to look upward. The guy had his tee shirt pulled back over his head. His chest and belly were covered in fine black hair that thickened above his cock. As Nick watched, the guy reached down and pulled his balls free. They hung below his cock, looking heavy. Nick was fascinated by the sight. It wasn't like he'd never seen a guy's dick before. He played baseball all his life and ran track. He'd seen plenty of naked guys before. At times, lying in his bed, rubbing his dick, he even remembered some of the dicks he had seen and wondered what they would look like hard. Most of the time he imagined breasts or pussy. When he caught himself thinking of cocks, he was confused more than anything else. Why was he thinking about dicks? He'd heard plenty of locker room jokes about queers and fags but never one about bisexuals. He had no concept that such a thing could even exist. He would drag his mind back to one of the centerfolds he'd seen in his buddy, Gary's Penthouse magazine. It wasn't really Gary's Penthouse. It was his brother's. His brother had been one of the last guys in the area caught in the draft. He'd been spared Vietnam but when he headed off for basic he entrusted his porno mags to Gary. They had been, and remained, a wonderment. This was different, as different as a real pussy is from a foldout glossy. This was a guy's dick, hard and in the flesh, inches from his face. Nick felt his own excitement ratchet up a notch, or two, or four. He wonder if the button jeans guy was queer. Most be, he figured if he was jerking off for a guy. The fact that he had done the very same thing never crossed his mind. It never occurred to him that his excitement at watching the guy jerk off might be considered queer. No doubt, many will find that difficult to swallow. No one can be that sheltered. But it was true. Nick felt as if he was a disinterested outside observer, not a participant. The thought that he might be a fairy was utterly foreign to him, even as he sat on a toilet, in a stall, dick throbbing, watching another man jerk off. The guy turned away and Nick once more felt a surge of disappointment. Disappointment morphed into panic when button jeans stepped to the front of the stall and peeked in at him, gazing openly through the crack between the door and frame. Nick hunched over his lap as if expected a blow. "Relax man. Let me watch." Button jeans' voice was low but he didn't whisper. Nick heard neither demand or pleading in the voice. He relaxed, a little. He looked up but didn't sit up, not yet. "It's cool brother. I ain't gonna bite." Button jeans face split into an enormous grin that lit up his eyes. "Not unless you want me to anyway." Nick had no idea what the guy was talking about but his eyes had returned to watching the slow movements of button jeans' hand over his cock. The guy's cock looked huge. Nick wasn't small, at least not small enough that he ever felt weird in the locker room shower but this guy's was easily an inch or more longer. Button jeans' took in Nick's gaze. "You like it? Like my cock? Come on then, fair's fair, let me see yours." Almost without being aware of it, Nick sat up straight on the john. He didn't touch his dick. He let it stand on its own, bobbing in the dark curl of his pubes. "Oh, beautiful dick, man. Shit, don't hide that thing from me." Nick's eyes jerked to button jeans' face. The man's eyes were glued to his dick. He saw no evidence of mockery in the man's face. He had heard none in his voice. Emboldened by the man's compliment, Nick reached for his dick. "Oh yeah man, go ahe..." They both heard the door opening at the same time. There was a small jog around a wall that prevented anyone outside from seeing anyone inside when the door opened. It gave button jeans just enough time to dart into the second stall before their guest walked in the bathroom proper. Nick resumed his hunched-over position, feeling trapped. He heard the newcomer fumble with his belt and zipper. He waited but heard nothing more. He glanced over his shoulder without leaning back. Through the small hole, he could just make out the newcomer's finger, beckoning. Nick obeyed. The guy was in a suit. Nick had very little experience with suits but this one looked pretty cheap. His dick was hanging out. It was only half-hard. Nick looked away. The sound of worn leather shuffling across tile echoed in the room. Nick almost groaned as suit man peeked in his stall, then leaned over to peek in button jeans' stall. Nick heard the stall door next to his open. By swaying back and forth in front of the crack between the door and frame he could see the two men were holding each other's cock. Suit man put his hand on the top of Nick's door and pulled on it. "Open up. The more the merrier." Suit man's voice was high and whatever command it tried to convey was lost in its whiny timbre. "He's fine. Let him be." Button jeans' voice was quiet but the words carried an edge Nick had not heard earlier. Suit man snorted. "The stuck up ones bug me, that's all." Button jeans stepped back. Nick could no longer see him. "He's not stuck up. He's nervous." There was no missing the edge in his voice now. "Know what bugs me?" He didn't wait for an answer. "Pushy assholes who look a gift horse, literally, in the mouth. Beat it." "Hey fella, who do you think..." Suit man's voice was even whinier. "I'm the guy who was going to suck your dick until you opened your mouth. Beat it." "Fuck you. This is a public restroom." Button jeans' voice was quiet now but Nick could hear easily enough. So could suit man. Button jeans made it clear he knew who suit man was and that if he saw him in here again, or if mall security showed up after he left, he would post his bail and when the time was right he would find suit man and kick his ass. Suit man hustle away, huffing in indignation. Nick took the opportunity to pull his pants up. He hurried from the stall, ignoring the guy in the jeans and fled. He was late. He'd never been late before. He was sure he was going to get fired. The manager never said a word, however. Nick kept busy, flipping burgers and making root beer floats, trying not to remember the look of the guy's cock, or the scruffy beard, or the clear blue eyes. - When he jerked off that night, it was the guy in jeans he thought of. He found his left hand reaching below his balls, rubbing lightly over his asshole, not sure why he was doing it but enjoying the way it felt. He brought his fingers to his nose. Instead of being grossed out, he found the pungent musky scent exciting. Without conscious thought, he stuck one finger in his mouth then reached down once again and pushed the finger inside his ass, just barely. His finger wasn't very wet and it hurt too much to push deeper. His cock exploded almost instantly and he bucked hard enough to make the bed jump. When he pulled his finger out, he grimaced. The nail was lined with brown. He held the hand away from his body and he used his right hand to wipe off his chest and belly. He awkwardly pulled on a pair of sweats one-handed before making his way to his bathroom. He scrubbed his finger in water as hot as he could stand it, disgusted with himself. That was the first time anything found its way into his ass. - He stayed away from the mall bathroom for a week. Telling his mom he was working a double, he spent over four hours, most of it in the john. He watched two guys jerk off. He let another watch him stroking in the stall but didn't cum. He didn't admitted it to himself but Nick was hoping the guy with the blue eyes and button jeans would show up. He waited as long as he could before hurrying to work. He was part of the closing crew. It was almost one in the morning when, at home, he eased the screen door closed, trying but failing to keep the rusty spring from squeaking. His mom was a heavy sleeper but if she woke she often would insist upon getting up and asking how work had been, as if, by some miracle, work would have been different than any other night. The only sound coming from the downstairs bedroom was his mother's not-so-soft snores. His thoughts had been racing all evening. He had spent the evening with an almost perpetual boner. His girlfriend was away for the summer, a Bible camp counselor. Neither of them seemed to care, both allowing the relationship to fade without consciously admitting the fact. He would miss her when he went away to school but that is not what he was missing tonight. Tonight, he missed having her to kiss and hold and cuddle. They never did more than heavy petting but tonight that would have been an immense relief. He half convinced himself she might give him a hand job if only she were here. All evening at work, against his wishes, his mind had wandered back to the feel of his finger rubbing over his asshole. He remembered how it had felt to push it inside his ass, even a little way. As his hands were mindlessly flipping burgers, he had found himself imagining unthinkable acts, not just thinking the unthinkable but pondering the difficulties and ways around them. He stood for a moment in the quiet kitchen, listening for any hint his mom might be awake, running over and over in his head the idea he had not been able to shake, gross as it was. In one hand, he held his sole purchase at the mall today. He had told himself he had bought the bottle of Jergen's because the soap at work was killing his hands. It was but he had never bothered with hand lotion in the past. He glanced down at the bag, admitting to himself that he had been mulling this plan for longer than the past few hours. A Summer of Firsts - Reimagined His dick was already hard. It had been hard most of the day it seemed. His balls ached. He borrowed one of his uncle's favorite sayings and told himself to shit or get off the pot. Decision made he opened the cabinet under the sink as quietly as he could. Of all the options he had considered, this one, while not perfect, seemed the best he could do. Not wanting to risk turning on a light, he found what he was looking for by feel and retrieved it. He was careful not to disturb the other tools. He suddenly knew, knew for a fact, his mother was going to come striding into the kitchen with a knowing and contemptuous look on her face. She would demand to know why he was standing in the middle of the kitchen, jeans tented, with a bag containing an 8 ounce bottle of Jergen's hand lotion in one hand and a screwdriver in the other. He bolted for the stairs and raced up them in an awkward bowlegged stance in order to tread on the outside edges of the risers, minimizing the creaks. He closed his bedroom door and stood there for long minutes, panting in fear. When his heart and breathing slowed sufficiently, he listened quietly, listened for opening doors, creaky stairs, his mother's angry accusations. All he heard was the usual groans and complaints from lumber that had long ago grown weary of supporting the weight of the house. Even the cicadas were quiet tonight, having already mated and died. Nick took a minute to curse himself for being a frightened little scaredy-cat. He almost called himself a pussy but his mind balked. That word was too close to fairy for comfort. He tossed the bag on the bed and looked at the screwdriver. It was old and large, the biggest one in the tool kit. He examined the hard wooden handle carefully, running his fingers over it, feeling for any rough spots, or worse, splinters. He wasn't sure what wood the handle was made of, ash perhaps, but it was worn smooth. The shank was metal of course, and it was rusty, but that did not matter. The shank would be the handle after all, the true handle being intended for an altogether different purpose. Unbidden, he heard his grandmother's voice in his head, telling him as she stashed yet another bread bag in the drawer that "everything has a least two uses." He had the totally bizarre notion of calling her and telling her how very right she was. He shook the thought from his head and tossed the screwdriver onto the bed before stripping off his clothes. His hands smelled of hamburger and onions but he knew from experience that no amount of scrubbing would be able to banish the odor. He laid down on his bed and began to pull at his dick. It was already getting hard. He didn't think this would take long. He'd been on the edge of busting a nut all day. He fumbled the hand lotion out of the bag, letting the empty bag drop to the floor. He twisted the pump open and pretended to consider not doing what he had been thinking about for days before squirting the lotion on the handle of the screwdriver. He used his left hand to spread the lotion over the handle before reaching below his balls to rub what remained of it over his asshole. After wiping lotion over his asshole, he moved his left hand under his leg and tugged his butt cheek to one side. His right hand held the screwdriver by the shank, near the handle. Reaching under his right thigh, he started to rub the smooth rounded handle against his asshole. He pressed and it hurt. He cussed at himself, telling himself to relax and reminding himself, somewhat disgustingly, that he crapped bigger than the handle. He took a breath, held it, tried to relax, and pushed again. He felt a flare of pain and almost stopped but instead, pushed a little harder. The handle shouldered aside his sphincter and entered his ass. He gasped at the penetration and did nothing for several heart beats, then he pushed a little more. It was easy now. With no difficulty, he inserted the entire length of the handle. He paused then, considering how it felt. He decided, weird as it seemed, that it felt good. He tried moving the handle in and out. That felt even better. He jiggled the handle. That felt good too. It did not occur to him that what he was enjoying was having his ass fucked. He switched hands, holding the shank of the screwdriver in his left now. He began to move it faster, not yet touching his dick. He watched, fascinated as the movement in his ass caused his dick to pulse and swell. The most wonderfully crampy pleasure/pain combination built behind his balls. His movements became too vigorous and the handle slipped out of his ass. He panicked for a second, afraid it would hurt going back in. It didn't. It slipped back inside easily, as his ass gave it a prodigal's welcome home. As Nick reached for his cock with his right hand, inspiration struck, whether the source was Eros or Satan or neither is a question everyone must answer for themselves. Without letting go of the screwdriver or his dick he pulled his legs up, way up, over his head. His ass was in the air, his left hand fucking it with an old wooden screwdriver handle and his dick was pointed at his mouth. He opened wide as he pushed, hard, on the screwdriver. The whole handle penetrated him. His sphincter closed around the cold steel shank. As his cock started spewing over his face, he frantically wiggled the screwdriver in his ass, having no idea he was stimulating his prostate. Cum sprayed into his hair, eyes, face and mouth. He opened his mouth wider and pointed his cock, no longer jerking it, desperate to get as much of his load into his mouth as he could manage. He swallowed, licked his lips, and swallowed again. His right hand abandoned his dick and he licked his fingers. He wiped cum off his cheek and out of his eye and greedily sucked it off his fingers. He decided his cum didn't taste bad. It certainly didn't taste salty. It made his mouth feel a little puckery like biting into a not quite ripe persimmon but beyond that he couldn't describe the taste. It didn't matter. He couldn't explain why but he felt compelled to get as much cum as he could into his mouth. Sated, he allowed his legs to fall back as he pulled the screwdriver from his ass, surprised that it hurt as he did so. He let it drop between his legs and fell asleep almost instantly. While not technically the first time Nick had had something in his ass. It was the first time he fucked himself. It was also the first time he ate his own spunk. - He woke to the sound of his mom calling his name. Heart thudding, he scrambled to pull the sheet over his naked body before realizing she was calling him from the foot of the stairs. "Nick?!" He heard the irritation in her voice and understood that she must have already called him several times. He struggled to find his voice, hoping to forestall her bounding up the stairs and demanding to be heard. "What?" he croaked loudly, making no effort to hide his own irritation. "Don't snap at me. Do you want anything from the store. I'll stop after I get my hair fixed." "No. I worked all night. I just want to sleep." Sleep was the last thing on his mind. He became aware of the screwdriver lying between his legs. The memory of last night washed over him in a wave of disgust and self-revulsion. He heard his mother's indignant "harrumph," followed by the squeak and bang of the screen door. He sprang from the bed. Feeling the tug of dried cum on his skin. He remembered how he had licked and sucked at his fingers and felt sick. He felt sicker when he looked down at the bed. The screwdriver lay there. The sheets were smeared with something whitish brown he could only assume was shit and hand lotion. There was a darker spot of rusty brown he took to be blood. Holy fuck. He'd probably torn up his insides. He felt his belly with his hands. Probed his body mentally, searching for signs of impending peritonitis. It would kill him, of that there could be no doubt, since he would never tell a soul in the world what was wrong or how it had happened. He gingerly worked his fingers into his ass crack. It was slick. And it was tender. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. His eyes darted around the room as he tried to make sense of this disaster. First things first he decided. He yanked on a pair of gym shorts and jerked the sheets off the bed and grabbed the screwdriver, being careful to grab it by the shank end. He hurried downstairs and bolted into the laundry room, dropping the screwdriver into the sink. He squirted gobs of Shout on the stains on the sheet and tossed it into the washer. As the washer filled with hot water, he turned his attention to the screwdriver. His mouth twitched in disgust. The handle was smeared with shit. "What did you expect dumbass?" He sneered at himself. "You shoved the fucking thing up your ass you, fucking homo." He wasn't even aware of it but that was the first time he thought of himself as a homo. -- He sprinkled some Tide over the screwdriver and ran some hot water into the sink. He cleaned it, ignoring the brownish tint of the water as it drained. He rinsed the screwdriver, his hands, and the sink with water so hot it threatened to scald him. He dried the screwdriver with paper towels and returned it to the tool kit beneath the sink. He ran back upstairs. He considered throwing out the Jergen's but settled for putting it atop his dresser and headed to his bathroom. He didn't have a shower. He dropped the gym shorts to the floor and adjusted the water. He climbed in, knelt with his back toward the tap and leaned over his legs, letting the warm water wash into, and over, the crack of his ass. He didn't look at the water, not wanting to see anything that would remind him of last night. When he was sure the water had washed anything really gross off his ass, he fitted the stopper and let the tub fill. He soaked until the water began to get cold, then he washed. He told himself over and over that what he had done last night was an aberration. He had let himself get too wound up, too excited. He would stay away from the mall, the mall's bathroom and never do that again. He told himself he should stop masturbating, too. Tomorrow was Sunday. He'd surprise his mom and go to church with her. He never should have stopped going. This is what happens when sleeping late on Sunday becomes more important than God. He dried, dressed and hung his sheets out on the line. Needing something to do besides thinking about how perverted he was, he weeded the garden and was half done mowing when his mom drove up. He knew she would prefer him to finish mowing so he let her carry in the groceries. He also knew she would assume he was doing his chores without being asked because he felt guilty about snapping at her this morning. He didn't but if it kept her from asking questions, so much the better. By the time the mowing was finished and he ate some lunch it was time to go to work. He closed again. His mom said nothing when he joined her for church the next day. He wrote his girlfriend a letter and went to bed early. -- The following night he gave up on his no more jerking off promise. As he came, he recalled how intense the feeling had been when he came with the screwdriver in his ass. There was no way he was going to do that again. What a pain it had been to clean up. He considered buying rubbers. He could put one over the handle to keep it from getting dirty. The vision of his mom's face if she found a rubber in the trash killed that idea. Cleaning up after supper he thought of a solution, having forgotten already, or deciding to ignore, the fact he had sworn he'd never do anything as gross as putting something in his ass again. He bought his own Cokes. His mom would not pay for anything more expensive than Royal Crown Cola. He often took a Coke up to his room when he went to bed. That night he also took a piece of Saran wrap tucked in his jeans pocket. When he couldn't avoid thinking about what he intended to do he tried to convince himself it wasn't that weird. He wrapped the Coke bottle in the Saran wrap. He was getting ready to strip when he ducked into his bathroom and made himself take a dump. Back in his room, he squirted lotion on the Saran wrap. He couldn't really lay in bed given the bottle did not come equipped with a handle. Instead, he sat it on the floor and squatted over it. Steadying himself with one hand on the mattress, he let his weight settle on the bottle. He reminded himself to relax. The bottle slipped in with much less fuss than the screwdriver and with almost no pain. Nick found he could gradually let more of his weight rest on the bottle. He never got close to the wide flare in the middle of the bottle but still it was a lot bigger than the screwdriver handle. Not wanting to make a mess on the floor, he came in his hand. Eating and licking his fingers clean was simply being efficient he told himself, and wasn't really all that weird. - The following Friday when he got home from work, day shift this time, his mom reminded him she was going with her sister to Quincy for the weekend for a craft show. She asked, for the sake of form, if he'd like to go. And, for the sake of form, he pretended to regret having to work. She reminded him there was plenty of food in the fridge. She didn't tell him not to have any parties while she was gone, the very idea of doing so never crossed either of their minds. He was rummaging for his keys when the phone rang. There was a mix up in the schedule. They didn't need him to come in. Would Nick like to take the day off? He needed the money but said yes. He looked at the keys in his hand, bounced them in his palm and weighed his options. He nodded to himself, closed his fist around the keys, and headed to his car. But first he took off his sneakers and his pants He then removed his tighty-whities and tossed them into the laundry room before putting his pants and sneakers back on. He heard the rush of feet as he entered the bathroom. The guy with the blue eyes and button jeans stood at the urinal. Nick could tell he was only pretending to pee. Nick moved toward him and instead of simply unzipping his pants, he unbuckled his belt, opened the snap, and unzipped. He pulled his already hard cock from his jeans as he faced the guy in the button jeans. The guy smiled. "Wasn't sure I'd see you in here again." Nick said nothing. He simply stared at the guy's hardon. Nick pretended not to know what was going to happen when button jeans knelt down but he didn't pull away when the hand wrapped around his dick. When the guy's head moved forward, Nick's hips moved to meet him. Nick shivered as the man's lips closed over the head of his dick. He shivered again as he took the length of his dick into his mouth and throat. When he pulled his mouth back over Nick's cock, his hand followed. With pursed lips, button jeans bobbed rapidly over the head of Nick's cock and as his hand continued to stroke the shaft. Nick was only vaguely aware that the stall door had opened and another man stood there with his pants around his ankles, jerking off as he watched Nick get his first blow job. When Nick began to thrust more forcefully to greet the mouth on his cock, button jeans stopped and stood up. He continued to hold Nick's cock with one hand. The other man began to stroke Nick's arm. "What do you want to do, man? Want me to finish sucking you? You into fucking? You want to fuck me? Want me to fuck you?" Nick started to speak. His voice cracked and he started over. "I want to put my mouth on you," he was finally able to whisper. "Sure man, that'd be cool." The guy with the clear blue eyes looked at Nick. "You ever done that before?" Nick shook his head. "That's cool, no sweat. I'll let you do as much as you want. That cool with you?" Nick nodded as button jeans took a step back and wrapped his fingers around the base of his own cock, offering it up to Nick's virgin mouth. Nick knelt. The floor was cold and hard on his knees. He switched positions, sitting on his haunches. The man in the stall reached down and pulled his pants up with one hand and closed the space between them. Nick glanced at him a second before turning back to button jeans. Nick's hand was shaking when he touched the cock. It was the first time he had ever touched another cock. It felt different somehow. He didn't know why. He'd felt his own dick often enough but this one felt different. Nick began to stroke the cock, marveling at the satin smoothness that covered the steel hard shaft. As he stroked, he leaned ever so slowly, closer. He could smell the guy's crotch now. The musky scent was familiar. He'd smelt it often enough on his own hands after jerking off. Button jeans never moved, never pushed. He waited. When Nick's lips finally brushed against the head of his dick, he very gently rested one hand on Nick's head. Nick had never imagine it would feel like this, soft and hard at the same time. The head of the cock was spongy. He could compress it with his lips but just behind it, the shaft was rigid, like warm steel wrapped in velvet. Nick could taste him, taste the musk and fresh sweat, taste the pre-cum that leaked from the slit. He reveled in the taste, reveled in the feel and in the scent. Final barrier breached, Nick did his best to copy what button jeans had done to him. He began to gag before he could get all the cock in his mouth and the guy's hand had grown firm on his head, forcing him back. Nick heard him breath, "Easy," and knew it was for his benefit. He pulled back, giving himself a second to breath. He stroke the cock with his hand. Button jeans had not done this to Nick but Nick was desperate to taste him so he ran the tip of his tongue over the guy's piss slit. Both button jeans and stall man groaned, "Yeah." Nick swirled his tongue around the crown, then popped it back into his mouth. He moved his mouth back and forth, stroking and squeezing with his hand. The way the guy's fingers twisted in his hair made Nick assume he was doing this right. Nick felt another hand on his head and something warm pressed against his cheek. When he turned, the man from the stall was standing beside him. He had brushed his hardon against Nick's cheek. Nick stared at the other cock. It was different somehow. It took Nick a moment to make sense of it. He was gazing at his first uncircumcised cock. Weird. He took the stall man's cock in his mouth, using his other hand to steady it. The man shuffled to stand beside button jeans. Nick began to alternate between the two cocks, sucking and stroking one while stroking the other. The man from the stall panted, "I'm going to cum," and started to pull away. Nick's mouth, his eager mouth, followed him. The man moaned, "Oh fuck yeah, kid," and then Nick's mouth was full. He swallowed reflexively but not fast enough. He could feel the cum begin to run down his chin. He tightened his grip as he milked the last of the man's honey. Nick sat back on his heels, wiped his chin and licked his finger. He had just sucked his first cock to completion. His second followed almost immediately. Nick turned his head and took button jeans' cock back in his mouth. He began to move his lips rapidly over the crown of the man's cock. Button jeans put both of his hands on Nick's head, and despite his best intentions, his hips began to thrust. Nick didn't mind. Nick didn't mind at all. The man from the stall continued to stroke his wilting cock as button jeans began to unload into Nick's mouth. Nick pulled back, mouth open, so the man could see the sperm firing into Nick's mouth and over his lips. Nick's first facial. -- ALTERNATE ENDING: The man from the stall zipped himself up and tussled Nick's hair in appreciation as Nick continued to suck at button jeans' cock. Checking himself quickly in the mirror, the man turned and left. A Summer of Firsts - Reimagined Button jeans put a hand under Nick's arm and urged him to his feet. "Come on kid. We've been here too long. There's sure to be a rent-a-cop in here." He smiled as Nick's face fell. "Don't worry little brother. I know you got a raging nut on." The smile fell from his face and he stepped to the urinal and began to fasten his pants. "But not here. Seriously, zip up man." The worry in his voice was clear and Nick hurried to the urinal, trying to stand as if he'd just finished taking a leak. Despite the anxiety button jean's voice had stirred Nick's cock was still rock hard, making it difficult to get everything squared away. Button jeans whispered as he turned toward the sinks. "Food Court." The bathroom door opened as button jeans began to turn the crank on the towel dispenser. Nick was experienced enough not to jerk his head around, instead he shook his hand a few times, as if he were shaking off, finished zipping his jeans and turned toward the sinks. It wasn't a rent-a-cop. It was a real cop, a county deputy, Buster brown belt and all. He walked past Nick with a glance but without saying a word and used his foot to push open the door to the first stall. It was fortunate that Nick had turned when he did, fortunate in that it caused the deputy to look at him. If he hadn't been looking at Nick, he might have noticed the pool of cum on the floor. It was a lot and it was rapidly taking on the consistency of water. If the deputy had seen it, he couldn't have proved anything but in Nick's wired state, to say nothing of the guilt and shame he was holding bottled up inside, he probably would have blurted out a confession if the cop had so much as raised an eyebrow. As it was, Nick elected to skip washing his hands in favor of getting the hell out of the bathroom as fast as he could. He hurried toward the mall exit, telling himself there was no way he was going to meet button jeans in the food court. What if someone he knew saw them? Nick had his hand on the bar of the door before he changed his mind. It didn't matter how he yelled at himself. It didn't matter if he call himself "faggot" or "queer" or "pervert". It didn't matter that he knew what he had done, what he wanted to do, was a sure fire ticket to Hell. The lies he told himself continued as he walked back to the food court, trying not to hurry. He told himself he was going just to prove he wasn't a pussy. The guy was probably already gone. If he was still there, Nick would give him a polite, but subtle, nod and leave. What he did was scan the scattered folks at the tables. He didn't see anyone he knew, except for button jeans, sitting by himself, as far from the other patrons as possible. He nodded at Nick. Nick nodded back. He ordered a baked potato, loaded, that he didn't think he could eat and a large Coke. He kept telling himself he wasn't going to sit with button jeans, even as his feet carried him over to button jeans' table. The man said nothing as Nick sat down. Nick arranged his food on the plastic tray, grimacing that the tray was still wet, trying to convince himself that was a good thing; it meant the tray had been washed. Nick took a bite of the potato and realized he was hungry. As he chewed, button jeans took a swallow of his own drink. "Man that was close, too close." He whispered, shaking his head. His face was stern when Nick looked up. "I know what it's like to be a horny teenager but don't even think about going back there for at least a couple of weeks. Deputy dog doesn't have to be Sherlock to remember seeing you, or me, in there. In fact if he comes down here, you're my brother. Got it?" Nick nodded. "They love busting fags. If you're lucky, they'll drag you to the courthouse without kicking your ass, but you aren't always lucky. I've never been busted here. To be truthful, I don't usually come here to cruise. Never shit in your own nest little brother, remember that." Button jeans took another bite of his burrito and grimaced. "Fucking poor excuse for a burrito." He squirted a whole back of Fire sauce on the end of it and tossed the packet onto an impressive pile of its emptied brethren, took another bite, and chewed, muttering curses at Taco Bell the entire time. Nick, who liked Taco Bell, said nothing, and focused instead on eating his baked potato. After swallowing, button jeans wiped his right hand on his jeans and held it over the table. "I'm Jack by the way." Nick hesitated, then took the hand and shook it. "Nick," he mumbled so softly that Jack grinned. "Relax man. It's cool." He squirted another packet of Fire sauce on the end of the burrito and took another bite. He chewed, minus the muttered curses, took a long pull on his soda, and rested his hands atop the table. "You ever been busted Nick?" Nick paused in the midst of swallowing, eyes widening in horror as he shook his head. Busted? He'd kill himself before he'd call his mom and tell her he'd been arrested for being a fucking faggot. His horror was easy enough to see. When Jack spoke his voice was soft, concerned. His hand twitched but he refrained from resting his hand on the Nick's arm. "Relax Nick. It's no big deal. The worse is if you get a cop that likes to rough up queers. Otherwise, they take you in. It's a misdemeanor. They tell you if you get caught again they'll toss you in the slam. They'll always hit you up for fifty plus twenty-five for court costs and off you go." Jack cocked an eye at Nick. "Better still? Don't fucking get busted." Jack shook his head. "Don't initiate contact, ever. Let the other guy make the first move and I mean he needs to show you his dick. If he just crooks a finger under the stall, or is peeking in the door, don't do a goddamn thing. Nothing. I should have warned you that first day. That's why I've been coming back, looking for you." Jack implied he'd been searching for Nick in order to warn him. Nick was a sheltered kid but not a stupid one. If Jack had only been interested in warning him, why did he let Nick suck his dick before warning him? As if reading his mind, Jack shook his head. When he spoke Nick could hear the irritation in his voice. He took comfort in knowing the irritation was not directed at him. Jack was pissed at himself. "I don't know what the fuck I was thinking. Never do shit like that. Don't do it in the stall either. You think Dudley Do Right can't look in a stall as easy as you can? If you're going to do something, do it at the urinals, and don't do anything besides unzip. You hear that door, you want to be able to jump in front of the urinal and look like you're just finishing a piss." He shook his head. Nick thought he should. The man had broken every rule he'd just recited to him. "A quick blow and go is the most you can hope for it a john, more is too risky. You can always move it out to your car or the park or something." He looked sharply at Nick. "And don't be going off to some guy's house, not in his car anyway." He shook his head and looked disgustedly at the mostly eaten burrito. He shoved it away as if he'd just spotted half a cockroach in it. "How old are you Nick? Please God, if you're under sixteen lie to me and promise me you'll forget my stupid face and close your eyes while I crawl out of here." "I'm nineteen." Jack raised an eyebrow. "I'll be nineteen on my birthday." Nick saw no reason to tell the guy his birthday was ten months away. Jack sighed. "I'm twenty-four. Now, not 'on my birthday'." He shook his head. "Christ if you'd have been sixteen or something, I'd have considered going home and blowing my brains out. Maybe I ought to anyhow. I'm getting pretty fucking stupid in my old age." Nick, who had only ordered a bake potato because he didn't think he'd be able to eat, was still hungry. He pointed at the bite or two of burrito left on Jack's plate. "You going to eat that?" Jack stared at him, then snorted. "No, little bro, take it." As Nick pulled the paper wrapper toward him, Jack added, "Remind me to get you some real Mex food sometime, not this Taco Smell shit." Nick made quick work of the residual burrito, wondering why Jack was bitching about it so much. He didn't mind Taco Bell. As he ate, his boner had faded but not completely. Now, food gone, and last swallows of Coke completed, Nick became aware of the steady ache in his balls. He pushed his chair back. "Where you going?" "Home." Nick could think of no other place to go. "Uh, what about..." Jack nodded his head. Nick looked down. His boner was tenting his jeans. He sat back down. "Why don't you come to my place?" Nick frowned. Jack smiled. "Fine, I just told you not to do that but I said 'don't go in their car'. You got your own car right? Here I'll show you my license. You'll know everything about me." He leaned to one side and reached behind his back. "Why?" Nick asked and Jack stopped. "I mean what good will knowing your whole name and address do if you got me tied up in your basement or bash my head in with a rock?" Jack quit fishing for his wallet. "Nothing I guess. Never thought of it like that." He shrugged. "Come on. You follow me. If you change your mind just keep driving. I'm not a serial killer or anything. All I want to do is finish what I started earlier. I think you do, too?" Nick followed him. Jack was parked one row over from Nick. He drove an old Chevy pick-up but one with intact rocker panels and one that had been washed within the past decade. Nick climbed behind the wheel of his Pinto and pulled out, still not sure he was doing to follow Jack to his home. -- It was a simple brick bungalow, on the edge of town. There was a Peterbilt with a sleeper cabin parked behind the house near a red metal barn. Between the barn and the house, a large propane tank sat amid silver-splattered weeds, which bore witness that it had been recently painted. Jack pulled into the gravel driveway, with its dusty green center strip of weeds. The county road had no shoulders so Nick had no option but to pull in and park behind the pick-up. He no longer pretended going home was an option. Nick climbed out of his car, doing his best to appear casual. He left the windows down, wishing there was some shade to park the car in, then wondering if he'd be here long enough for the interior to get hot. Jack waited for him. He dropped one hand casually on Nick's shoulder as they walked to the house. Nick, whose dick had been in a perpetual state of confusion and excitement, pumped itself back to full tumescence at the touch of Jack's hand. Jack led him to a side door that opened onto the kitchen. Jack held the screen door open and Nick walked into the small room. The door slammed behind him and he flinched, partly in surprise and partly as a conditioned response, expecting his mom to bellow, "How many times have I asked you not to let the screen door slam?!" She didn't of course but a voice from deeper inside the house did. "Jack, damn it, what if I was sleeping?" Before Nick could open his mouth, a women appeared under the arched entry to the kitchen. Her face was hidden by the towel she was using to dry her hair. She was naked. Nick's mouth opened and closed like a fish tossed up on the river bank. "Retta, baby, we got company." To Nick's surprise, Jack didn't sound worried or upset, only amused. The woman let the towel drop. "Damnit Jack, I've asked you a thousand times to call first." Nick's mouth stopped moving and simply hung open. He thought he might faint. He wished he would, or he wished his feet would unglue themselves from the floor and start running. Too late, the woman dropped the towel to the floor and clapped her hands. "Nicky? What the hell? Jack how did you..." Loretta, as she had always been known to Nick stopped speaking. She turned, looking first at Jack and his smiling mug, and then Nick and his flaming countenance. Loretta shook her head in disbelief. "No way baby. Did you meet Nicky where I think you did? Is he the one you been trying to warn away from the mall? Nicky?" Jack stepped around Nick and walked to the refrigerator. He pulled out a can of PBR and popped the top. He offered it to Loretta, who stepped over the towel to take it from his hand. Nick was trying not to stare. He had never seen a woman naked. He had never even seen his girlfriend's breast exposed before. Loretta's breast were beautiful. He had always suspected that. She was three years older than him. He'd been a freshman. She'd been a senior in his freshman American History class. She had to pass it to graduate, and so far had failed. She latched onto Nick, possibly because it was clear he was the smartest kid in the class or perhaps because she knew, from the first look on his face, that she could have him eating out of her hand. "Beer, Nick?" He heard Jack ask. He'd never drank alcohol before but at this point he imagined there wasn't much to lose, besides he felt like he needed something. He nodded. "Good fucking deal, brother." Jack replied, with what Nick was learning was his usual enthusiasm. "So how do you know Retta?" Jack inquired, handing Nick the can of beer. The first taste was not promising and Nick forced himself not to grimace as he lowered the can from his mouth. "He was my tutor," Loretta chirped, clapping her hands once more and making her breasts jiggle in a very distracting way, to Nick at least. Jack appeared unfazed. "Nicky is the reason I can stand before you," at that she threw her arms out, imitating a Hollywood star greeting her fans, and totally fucking with poor Nick's tormented cock, "as a proper graduate of Bum Fuck Illinois Senior High. Ta-da." She ended with a flourish and a bow. "Seriously. Far fucking out." Jack shook his head, took a drink of his own beer and then leered at Nick. "And what did my lovely little Retta tutor you in, little brother?" Loretta crossed the room and smacked Jack on the arm. "You know better than that. Nick was a sweetheart and a gentleman." She let the giddy, aren't-I-just-a-ditz, look drop from her face. She spoke to Jack but her eyes were on Nick. "He didn't treat me like I was stupid. Not once. I'm not stupid." Nick had not a clue what to do. Loretta looked as if she were about to burst into tears. Jack's smile was gone but he watched, unperturbed, and waited for her to continue. When she did, she was talking more to herself than to either of the men in the room. "All those counselors, with their degrees in those shitty frames, all the special ed teachers, and it was Nick who figured out why I couldn't read." Jack glanced at Nick but Loretta didn't notice, or didn't care. "He realized I remember what he said, once I got over being pissed at having to be stuck in American History again and actually listened to him." Nick nodded, not realizing he was doing so. God she had been pissed. At first, she wouldn't even talk to him. He was afraid she'd caught him staring at her chest or something but no, she was simply tired of retaking the class. It didn't take him long to realize Loretta was far from dumb. Once she heard something, figured it out, she had it. Loretta smiled at Nick, as if she knew what he was thinking. "Once he figured out I had a good memory he couldn't figure out how I kept failing the class. It was the same subject. One, I stopped listening; I was so pissed. And, two, I never had the same teacher twice, so I couldn't just memorize the tests." "So what did you do?" I took Nick a minute to realize Jack was talking to him. He shrugged. "I don't know. For one, I convinced her it was kind of silly to not graduate because you were mad people thought you weren't smart. But more important, I think, was I realized she had a lot of trouble reading." Jack shook his head. "That's bullshit. She has books stacked all over the place. She's constantly reading." Loretta shook her head. "Sure, now. Not then. When I would start to read I would get to a spot, a word usually, or sometimes a sentence, and I would get stuck. I'd keep ramming my head into it, spinning my wheels, and never getting anywhere until I'd get pissed, or a headache, or both, and stop." "So what did he do?" Jack asked, looking between Nick and Loretta. Loretta giggled. "Told me to go around." "Huh?" Jack asked, perplexed. Nick answered. "I told her to go around, just like you would a pot hole or something. Don't keep digging the hole deeper. Almost always, the next words or sentence will make sense, even if you skip something. Plus, you don't usually have to skip it completely. Most of the time, something a little later on will make it clear what you were stuck on." "So, that's what I did. I learned to go around." There was a justifiable tone of pride in Loretta's voice. "I got an 'A' in that fucking class. They were sure I was cheating. They wouldn't believe what Nick tried to tell them about my problems with reading. Why would they? It'd mean 'fessing up to the fact they didn't know what the fuck they were doing wouldn't it? After the first test I aced, they called me down to the principal's office and jumped up and down, telling me I needed to tell them who I cheated off of. For the second test, they made me sit in the principal's office. That dried up old cunt that use to suck his dick, sat there too, scowling and mumbling about wasting her time on 'trash'. I aced that one as well." "That must have shut them up." Jack offered. Loretta snorted. "Hardly, they acted like I had some kind of microphone hidden in my hair or something and that Nicky was telling me the answers, like there was any way for him to see what was on my test and ignoring the fact he was in the class, taking the test himself. Stupid assholes." "They made her take an essay test next." Nick reported in a soft voice. "No one gave essay test in those general ed classes, too many students and too hard to grade." "I was totally freaking when they told me." Loretta chimed in. "Writing was as hard for me as reading, harder in some ways, once you go around the detour in your head there ain't no landmarks, no clues, not like in a book." She gritted her teeth in remember anger. "Nicky saved the day again. By now he was pissed." She looked at Nick. "For a time I was worried you'd run off, you seemed awful nervous." Nick blushed, shamed that she had read him so well. "I almost did." He started to say his mom told him to steer clear of "troublemakers" but decided blaming his mom only made him look like a bigger pussy. "I almost did. I had never been in trouble at school. I was afraid I'd get in trouble if I pushed back, made waves. Then I did get pissed off. I was the one who figured out why Loretta was having trouble. I was the one who helped her figure out a way to make it work for her and now they were going to ignore that? They'd rather fail her than admit they'd fucked up? What kind of total bullshit is that?" Loretta giggled. "He threw such a fit, they gave me an oral exam." She saw Jack start to smirk. "Shut up asshole, you know what I mean. They kept trying to throw me, not giving me time to collect my ideas, you know? But, you know what? Freshman American History just ain't that hard. They had to pass me." Jack shook his head. "But what about the rest of your classes?" "There isn't a lot of reading in home ec and phys ed. And math, math was always easy." Jack looked at Nick, no longer smiling. He looked upset, pissed even. "You did all that for Retta? You had her back at that rat hole they call a school?" Nick shrugged, thinking Jack was pissed at the school and not him but not totally sure about it. Jack turned to Loretta. "Babe, I brought Nick here home 'cause I owe him. I damn near got him arrested. That's bad but what's worse, after he gave a damn fine BJ for a beginner, I left him hanging, so to speak." A Summer of Firsts He stood for a moment in the quiet kitchen, listening for any hint his mom might be awake, running over and over in his head the idea he had not been able to shake, gross as it was. In one hand, he held his sole purchase at the mall today. He had told himself he had bought the bottle of Jergen's because the soap at work was killing his hands. It was but he had never bothered with hand lotion in the past. He glanced down at the bag, admitting to himself that he had been mulling this plan for longer than the past few hours. His dick was already hard. It had been hard most of the day it seemed. His balls ached. He borrowed one of his uncle's favorite sayings and told himself to shit or get off the pot. Decision made he opened the cabinet under the sink as quietly as he could. Of all the options he had considered, this one, while not perfect, seemed the best he could do. Not wanting to risk turning on a light, he found what he was looking for by feel and retrieved it. He was careful not to disturb the other tools. He suddenly knew, knew for a fact, his mother was going to come striding into the kitchen with a knowing and contemptuous look on her face. She would demand to know why he was standing in the middle of the kitchen, jeans tented, with a bag containing an 8 ounce bottle of Jergen's hand lotion in one hand and a screwdriver in the other. He bolted for the stairs and raced up them in an awkward bowlegged stance in order to tread on the outside edges of the risers, minimizing the creaks. He closed his bedroom door and stood there for long minutes, panting in fear. When his heart and breathing slowed sufficiently, he listened quietly, listened for opening doors, creaky stairs, his mother's angry accusations. All he heard was the usual groans and complaints from lumber that had long ago grown weary of supporting the weight of the house. Even the cicadas were quiet tonight, having already mated and died. Nick took a minute to curse himself for being a frightened little scaredy-cat. He almost called himself a pussy but his mind balked. That word was too close to fairy for comfort. He tossed the bag on the bed and looked at the screwdriver. It was old and large, the biggest one in the tool kit. He examined the hard wooden handle carefully, running his fingers over it, feeling for any rough spots, or worse, splinters. He wasn't sure what wood the handle was made of, ash perhaps, but it was worn smooth. The shank was metal of course, and it was rusty, but that did not matter. The shank would be the handle after all, the true handle being intended for an altogether different purpose. Unbidden, he heard his grandmother's voice in his head, telling him as she stashed yet another bread bag in the drawer that "everything has a least two uses." He had the totally bizarre notion of calling her and telling her how very right she was. He shook the thought from his head and tossed the screwdriver onto the bed before stripping off his clothes. His hands smelled of hamburger and onions but he knew from experience that no amount of scrubbing would be able to banish the odor. He laid down on his bed and began to pull at his dick. It was already getting hard. He didn't think this would take long. He'd been on the edge of busting a nut all day. He fumbled the hand lotion out of the bag, letting the empty bag drop to the floor. He twisted the pump open and pretended to consider not doing what he had been thinking about for days before squirting the lotion on the handle of the screwdriver. He used his left hand to spread the lotion over the handle before reaching below his balls to rub what remained of it over his asshole. After wiping lotion over his asshole, he moved his left hand under his leg and tugged his butt cheek to one side. His right hand held the screwdriver by the shank, near the handle. Reaching under his right thigh, he started to rub the smooth rounded handle against his asshole. He pressed and it hurt. He cussed at himself, telling himself to relax and reminding himself, somewhat disgustingly, that he crapped bigger than the handle. He took a breath, held it, tried to relax, and pushed again. He felt a flare of pain and almost stopped but instead, pushed a little harder. The handle shouldered aside his sphincter and entered his ass. He gasped at the penetration and did nothing for several heart beats, then he pushed a little more. It was easy now. With no difficulty, he inserted the entire length of the handle. He paused then, considering how it felt. He decided, weird as it seemed, that it felt good. He tried moving the handle in and out. That felt even better. He jiggled the handle. That felt good too. It did not occur to him that what he was enjoying was having his ass fucked. He switched hands, holding the shank of the screwdriver in his left now. He began to move it faster, not yet touching his dick. He watched, fascinated as the movement in his ass caused his dick to pulse and swell. The most wonderfully crampy pleasure/pain combination built behind his balls. His movements became too vigorous and the handle slipped out of his ass. He panicked for a second, afraid it would hurt going back in. It didn't. It slipped back inside easily, as his ass gave it a prodigal's welcome home. As Nick reached for his cock with his right hand, inspiration struck, whether the source was Eros or Satan or neither is a question everyone must answer for themselves. Without letting go of the screwdriver or his dick he pulled his legs up, way up, over his head. His ass was in the air, his left hand fucking it with an old wooden screwdriver handle and his dick was pointed at his mouth. He opened wide as he pushed, hard, on the screwdriver. The whole handle penetrated him. His sphincter closed around the cold steel shank. As his cock started spewing over his face, he frantically wiggled the screwdriver in his ass, having no idea he was stimulating his prostate. Cum sprayed into his hair, eyes, face and mouth. He opened his mouth wider and pointed his cock, no longer jerking it, desperate to get as much of his load into his mouth as he could manage. He swallowed, licked his lips, and swallowed again. His right hand abandoned his dick and he licked his fingers. He wiped cum off his cheek and out of his eye and greedily sucked it off his fingers. He decided his cum didn't taste bad. It certainly didn't taste salty. It made his mouth feel a little puckery like biting into a not quite ripe persimmon but beyond that he couldn't describe the taste. It didn't matter. He couldn't explain why but he felt compelled to get as much cum as he could into his mouth. Sated, he allowed his legs to fall back as he pulled the screwdriver from his ass, surprised that it hurt as he did so. He let it drop between his legs and fell asleep almost instantly. While not technically the first time Nick had had something in his ass. It was the first time he fucked himself. It was also the first time he ate his own spunk. -- He woke to the sound of his mom calling his name. Heart thudding, he scrambled to pull the sheet over his naked body before realizing she was calling him from the foot of the stairs. "Nick?!" He heard the irritation in her voice and understood that she must have already called him several times. He struggled to find his voice, hoping to forestall her bounding up the stairs and demanding to be heard. "What?" he croaked loudly, making no effort to hide his own irritation. "Don't snap at me. Do you want anything from the store. I'll stop after I get my hair fixed." "No. I worked all night. I just want to sleep." Sleep was the last thing on his mind. He became aware of the screwdriver lying between his legs. The memory of last night washed over him in a wave of disgust and self-revulsion. He heard his mother's indignant "harrumph," followed by the squeak and bang of the screen door. He sprang from the bed. Feeling the tug of dried cum on his skin. He remembered how he had licked and sucked at his fingers and felt sick. He felt sicker when he looked down at the bed. The screwdriver lay there. The sheets were smeared with something whitish brown he could only assume was shit and hand lotion. There was a darker spot of rusty brown he took to be blood. Holy fuck. He'd probably torn up his insides. He felt his belly with his hands. Probed his body mentally, searching for signs of impending peritonitis. It would kill him, of that there could be no doubt, since he would never tell a soul in the world what was wrong or how it had happened. He gingerly worked his fingers into his ass crack. It was slick. And it was tender. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. His eyes darted around the room as he tried to make sense of this disaster. First things first he decided. He yanked on a pair of gym shorts and jerked the sheets off the bed and grabbed the screwdriver, being careful to grab it by the shank end. He hurried downstairs and bolted into the laundry room, dropping the screwdriver into the sink. He squirted gobs of Shout on the stains on the sheet and tossed it into the washer. As the washer filled with hot water, he turned his attention to the screwdriver. His mouth twitched in disgust. The handle was smeared with shit. "What did you expect dumbass?" He sneered at himself. "You shoved the fucking thing up your ass you, fucking homo." He wasn't even aware of it but that was the first time he thought of himself as a homo. --- He sprinkled some Tide over the screwdriver and ran some hot water into the sink. He cleaned it, ignoring the brownish tint of the water as it drained. He rinsed the screwdriver, his hands, and the sink with water so hot it threatened to scald him. He dried the screwdriver with paper towels and returned it to the tool kit beneath the sink. He ran back upstairs. He considered throwing out the Jergen's but settled for putting it atop his dresser and headed to his bathroom. He didn't have a shower. He dropped the gym shorts to the floor and adjusted the water. He climbed in, knelt with his back toward the tap and leaned over his legs, letting the warm water wash into, and over, the crack of his ass. He didn't look at the water, not wanting to see anything that would remind him of last night. When he was sure the water had washed anything really gross off his ass, he fitted the stopper and let the tub fill. He soaked until the water began to get cold, then he washed. He told himself over and over that what he had done last night was an aberration. He had let himself get too wound up, too excited. He would stay away from the mall, the mall's bathroom and never do that again. He told himself he should stop masturbating, too. Tomorrow was Sunday. He'd surprise his mom and go to church with her. He never should have stopped going. This is what happens when sleeping late on Sunday becomes more important than God. He dried, dressed and hung his sheets out on the line. Needing something to do besides thinking about how perverted he was, he weeded the garden and was half done mowing when his mom drove up. He knew she would prefer him to finish mowing so he let her carry in the groceries. He also knew she would assume he was doing his chores without being asked because he felt guilty about snapping at her this morning. He didn't but if it kept her from asking questions, so much the better. By the time the mowing was finished and he ate some lunch it was time to go to work. He closed again. His mom said nothing when he joined her for church the next day. He wrote his girlfriend a letter and went to bed early. --- The following night he gave up on his no more jerking off promise. As he came, he recalled how intense the feeling had been when he came with the screwdriver in his ass. There was no way he was going to do that again. What a pain it had been to clean up. He considered buying rubbers. He could put one over the handle to keep it from getting dirty. The vision of his mom's face if she found a rubber in the trash killed that idea. Cleaning up after supper he thought of a solution, having forgotten already, or deciding to ignore, the fact he had sworn he'd never do anything as gross as putting something in his ass again. He bought his own Cokes. His mom would not pay for anything more expensive than Royal Crown Cola. He often took a Coke up to his room when he went to bed. That night he also took a piece of Saran wrap tucked in his jeans pocket. When he couldn't avoid thinking about what he intended to do he tried to convince himself it wasn't that weird. He wrapped the Coke bottle in the Saran wrap. He was getting ready to strip when he ducked into his bathroom and made himself take a dump. Back in his room, he squirted lotion on the Saran wrap. He couldn't really lay in bed given the bottle did not come equipped with a handle. Instead, he sat it on the floor and squatted over it. Steadying himself with one hand on the mattress, he let his weight settle on the bottle. He reminded himself to relax. The bottle slipped in with much less fuss than the screwdriver and with almost no pain. Nick found he could gradually let more of his weight rest on the bottle. He never got close to the wide flare in the middle of the bottle but still it was a lot bigger than the screwdriver handle. Not wanting to make a mess on the floor, he came in his hand. Eating and licking his fingers clean was simply being efficient he told himself, and wasn't really all that weird. -- The following Friday when he got home from work, day shift this time, his mom reminded him she was going with her sister to Quincy for the weekend for a craft show. She asked, for the sake of form, if he'd like to go. And, for the sake of form, he pretended to regret having to work. She reminded him there was plenty of food in the fridge. She didn't tell him not to have any parties while she was gone, the very idea of doing so never crossed either of their minds. He was rummaging for his keys when the phone rang. There was a mix up in the schedule. They didn't need him to come in. Would Nick like to take the day off? He needed the money but said yes. He looked at the keys in his hand, bounced them in his palm and weighed his options. He nodded to himself, closed his fist around the keys, and headed to his car. But first he took off his sneakers and his pants He then removed his tighty-whities and tossed them into the laundry room before putting his pants and sneakers back on. He heard the rush of feet as he entered the bathroom. The guy with the blue eyes and button jeans stood at the urinal. Nick could tell he was only pretending to pee. Nick moved toward him and instead of simply unzipping his pants, he unbuckled his belt, opened the snap, and unzipped. He pulled his already hard cock from his jeans as he faced the guy in the button jeans. The guy smiled. "Wasn't sure I'd see you in here again." Nick said nothing. He simply stared at the guy's hardon. Nick pretended not to know what was going to happen when button jeans knelt down but he didn't pull away when the hand wrapped around his dick. When the guy's head moved forward, Nick's hips moved to meet him. Nick shivered as the man's lips closed over the head of his dick. He shivered again as he took the length of his dick into his mouth and throat. When he pulled his mouth back over Nick's cock, his hand followed. With pursed lips, button jeans bobbed rapidly over the head of Nick's cock and as his hand continued to stroke the shaft. Nick was only vaguely aware that the stall door had opened and another man stood there with his pants around his ankles, jerking off as he watched Nick get his first blow job. When Nick began to thrust more forcefully to greet the mouth on his cock, button jeans stopped and stood up. He continued to hold Nick's cock with one hand. The other man began to stroke Nick's arm. "What do you want to do, man? Want me to finish sucking you? You into fucking? You want to fuck me? Want me to fuck you?" Nick started to speak. His voice cracked and he started over. "I want to put my mouth on you," he was finally able to whisper. "Sure man, that'd be cool." The guy with the clear blue eyes looked at Nick. "You ever done that before?" Nick shook his head. "That's cool, no sweat. I'll let you do as much as you want. That cool with you?" Nick nodded as button jeans took a step back and wrapped his fingers around the base of his own cock, offering it up to Nick's virgin mouth. Nick knelt. The floor was cold and hard on his knees. He switched positions, sitting on his haunches. The man in the stall reached down and pulled his pants up with one hand and closed the space between them. Nick glanced at him a second before turning back to button jeans. Nick's hand was shaking when he touched the cock. It was the first time he had ever touched another cock. It felt different somehow. He didn't know why. He'd felt his own dick often enough but this one felt different. Nick began to stroke the cock, marveling at the satin smoothness that covered the steel hard shaft. As he stroked, he leaned ever so slowly, closer. He could smell the guy's crotch now. The musky scent was familiar. He'd smelt it often enough on his own hands after jerking off. Button jeans never moved, never pushed. He waited. When Nick's lips finally brushed against the head of his dick, he very gently rested one hand on Nick's head. Nick had never imagine it would feel like this, soft and hard at the same time. The head of the cock was spongy. He could compress it with his lips but just behind it, the shaft was rigid, like warm steel wrapped in velvet. Nick could taste him, taste the musk and fresh sweat, taste the pre-cum that leaked from the slit. He reveled in the taste, reveled in the feel and in the scent. Final barrier breached, Nick did his best to copy what button jeans had done to him. He began to gag before he could get all the cock in his mouth and the guy's hand had grown firm on his head, forcing him back. Nick heard him breath, "Easy," and knew it was for his benefit. He pulled back, giving himself a second to breath. He stroke the cock with his hand. Button jeans had not done this to Nick but Nick was desperate to taste him so he ran the tip of his tongue over the guy's piss slit. Both button jeans and stall man groaned, "Yeah." Nick swirled his tongue around the crown, then popped it back into his mouth. He moved his mouth back and forth, stroking and squeezing with his hand. The way the guy's fingers twisted in his hair made Nick assume he was doing this right. Nick felt another hand on his head and something warm pressed against his cheek. When he turned, the man from the stall was standing beside him. He had brushed his hardon against Nick's cheek. Nick stared at the other cock. It was different somehow. It took Nick a moment to make sense of it. He was gazing at his first uncircumcised cock. Weird. He took the stall man's cock in his mouth, using his other hand to steady it. The man shuffled to stand beside button jeans. Nick began to alternate between the two cocks, sucking and stroking one while stroking the other. The man from the stall panted, "I'm going to cum," and started to pull away. Nick's mouth, his eager mouth, followed him. The man moaned, "Oh fuck yeah, kid," and then Nick's mouth was full. He swallowed reflexively but not fast enough. He could feel the cum begin to run down his chin. He tightened his grip as he milked the last of the man's honey. Nick sat back on his heels, wiped his chin and licked his finger. He had just sucked his first cock to completion. His second followed almost immediately. Nick turned his head and took button jeans' cock back in his mouth. He began to move his lips rapidly over the crown of the man's cock. Button jeans put both of his hands on Nick's head, and despite his best intentions, his hips began to thrust. Nick didn't mind. Nick didn't mind at all. A Summer of Firsts The man from the stall continued to stroke his wilting cock as button jeans began to unload into Nick's mouth. Nick pulled back, mouth open, so the man could see the sperm firing into Nick's mouth and over his lips. Nick's first facial. --- THE READER MAY WISH TO END THE STORY HERE. The man from the stall zipped himself up and tussled Nick's hair in appreciation as Nick continued to suck at button jeans' cock. Checking himself quickly in the mirror, the man turned and left. Nick heard the door open as the man left. Neither he nor button jeans had any way of knowing that someone entered as the man from the stall was leaving. The man from the stall wanted to yell out a warning, he truly did but he couldn't risk getting caught. He was married. Nick had no idea what was going on. He heard a voice yelled, "Goddamn fudge packing queers," and then he was lying on the floor. It took him an eternity to understand the guy who had shoved him was a cop. Button jeans could have bolted and almost certainly got away but he felt responsible for the kid, so he stayed. He turned when the cop said, "Turn around."He offered no resistance as he was cuffed. It never crossed Nick's mind to run. The enormity of the disaster was too much for his brain to decode. What was he going to do? He wracked his brain trying to remember where his mom said she was staying in Quincy? Why he cared was beyond him, he'd never in a million years call her. He had already decided it would be better if he just went to jail. He wouldn't tell them his name. She'd never have to know. He'd simply disappear. Poof. He was yanked to his feet by a rough hand in his hair. A hand that was the polar opposite of the hand that moments earlier was caressing his head. Nick stared blankly at the cop, unable to comprehend what the man was saying. His head rocked back when the cop backhanded him. He was vaguely aware of button jeans (he would never learn his name) shouting, "Hey, lay off, you don't need to do that." Button jeans' protest resulted in his head being slammed into the stall partition. The cop turned back to Nick, red-faced and spitting. "I said put your dick away and zip your pants, you fucking faggot. Now. You think everyone wants to look at your fucking dick queer boy? They don't." Nick's fingers managed to do as he was told. "Now the other one, cock sucker. I sure as shit ain't touching his dick. That's your specialty." Once more Nick did as he was instructed. Then the cop spun him around and shoved him against the partition. Nick could fell the cop's erection pressed against him as the man handcuffed him. "What the hell is that all about?" He wondered. He was aware that people were staring as they were led out of the mall. In the back of the car, button jeans was telling him something but Nick was not capable of listening. He was telling Nick not to sweat it. It was just a misdemeanor. He'd pay the fine for the two of them. They'd be out in under an hour. Just relax. Nick heard the words but they made no sense to him. Normally, they would have put the two of them in the same holding cell but not two faggots. Who the fuck knew what they'd get up to? Nick was barely cognizant of the cuffs being removed. He did hear the door slam closed behind him. Button jeans was in the cell next to him. He kept repeating what he'd said in the car but Nick wasn't listening. The cop walked down the short corridor and out into the small office, closing another door behind him. Nick studied the door for a moment then stepped up onto the bench that ran along one side of the small cell. There was no bed. It was a holding cell, nothing more. He pulled his belt free and looped it around the uppermost bar of the cell as button jeans began to scream for the cop. Nick slipped the loop around his neck and stepped off the bench. The first step is always the hardest. That's a cliché as well.