3 comments/ 33722 views/ 24 favorites Adam and Kyle Ch. 01 By: HVidese Hey everyone! This is my first attempt at Part 1 of a potentially ROMANTIC story, so if you're looking to get your rocks off quickly, this is not the story for you. For those of you who are interested in reading, I truly hope you enjoy it! H.V. ------------------------------------------- "I can do this...I know I can." Adam repeated this mantra continuously, hoping that he would convince himself that he would be able to get through it. He looked absolutely ridiculous; standing in front of a floral-framed mirror in the bathroom of his current girlfriend's house. His thick brown hair was disheveled, his Levi's dangerously unbuttoned, and his remaining sock had a hole in the toe. He looked at himself in the mirror, and saw a bead of sweat threatening to fall on his bare chest that was rapidly rising and falling. "I can do this," he repeated once more, "what the hell is wrong with me?" This was not the first time Adam encountered this problem. No more than a month ago did he have the exact same panic attack, albeit with another girl. No one could blame him; he was in fact what most teenaged girls called "the hottest fucking guy they'd ever seen". With 19 years of age under his belt, his future looked extremely bright, in both the educational and aesthetical sense. At 6'3", Adam pretty much towered over the remaining seniors at Thurgood High, except for the Varsity basketball players, but who knew what "physical enhancers" they were taking. But yes, he was your typical Casanova, except for one anomaly: he was still a virgin. With his piercing blue eyes, muscular, sturdy frame, varsity letter for wrestling, and an SAT score of 1460, he was many a high school girl's wet dream, yet he hadn't gone through with the dirty deed despite the countless offers. Whenever presented with the opportunity to have sex, Adam would break out into a cold sweat and run for the nearest door. Don't get me wrong, he took full advantage of the countless blowjobs under the bleachers in the gym or in the backseat of his car, but when it came time to have actual sex, he fled. "Babe, is everything okay?" The overzealous muffled voice of his girlfriend, Melissa, snapped him out of his zombie-like state. "Yeah, I'm fine. I'll be out in a second." Adam began to pace, constantly running his fingers through his hair. All of a sudden, he stopped dead in his tracks, as though struck by lightning. He heard Missy's squeaky voice coming from the bedroom. "Hey Jules. Oh, no, I'm getting studying for my final tomorrow...." "Thank God. A phone call. That should buy me some time." He looked at his pathetic reflection in the mirror. "Who am I kidding? All the time in the whole fucking world can't help me." He glanced at the tiny bathroom window. Damn. Too small and too high to jump out of. After a panic-stricken 10 minutes had passed, Adam finally mustered up the courage to go out there and at least try to go through with it, but wasn't given a chance. "What's taking so long??" Missy had burst through the door, dressed in a teddy that was far too large for her and hung off her tiny frame, and she had somehow gotten hold of pink stilettos that had the little fluff of feathers on top. Adam had to bite his lip to stop himself from laughing at this attempt to get him in the sack (which, by the way, was NOT working). "I've been waiting for hours." "Pfft. Hours? I've been in here for 20 minutes, tops." "Whatever. Are you ready? Julie's gonna be home in an hour and I still have to study for tomorrow's final," she whined. Missy had long ago given up on being coy as a means of trying to get Adam in bed and figured that plain old consistent nagging would eventually do the trick. She swore up and down that she was getting carpal tunnel from all the hand jobs she'd given him, and a convenient canker sore made it "deathly painful" for her to suck him off. Adam saw this as a perfect way out. "Oh shit! I forgot that I was supposed to help Kyle with his paper. You know how he's been struggling in Zihlman's. Zihlman's an asshole, especially with the jocks." "Must you use that word? You're only making it worse for yourself, I mean, you're a jock. Isn't that like, a perpetuation of self-prejudice?" "I don't have a problem with it. Anyway, I'm gonna go help Kyle before I have to listen to his nagging all day tomorrow about how my wife has me pussy-whipped and how I've ditched my best friend of 15 years so I could get some." Adam began to make his way into the bedroom, but Missy stopped him. "Is there something wrong with me? Am I too skinny? Too ugly? If you don't want me, please just give me a logical reason instead of running away." Adam felt horrible at the fact that he made the girl feel self-conscious. She wasn't in the least too skinny, or ugly. In fact, she was almost perfect. Missy, too, was well up on the "Most Fuckable" list at Thurgood, and she took advantage of this, indeed. With her wavy auburn tresses, big hazel eyes, impossibly perfect breasts, and ultra-long legs, she had been sexually active since she was 15, which is why she found it so difficult to be denied in bed. "Missy. Don't be like this. You know you're the hottest chick at Thurgood. I'm just... I don't know. I'm still getting over my last girlfriend, and it's kinda tough to get her out of my head." He lied. "I just want to be sure that when we do it, it's just you and me; Not you, me, and her." "Awww. Okay, baby. I wouldn't want to pressure you." Adam didn't hide his frustration at this. He was fed up with her subtle comments about him being the bitch of the relationship and constantly patronizing him. "God damn it, Missy. Why do you have piss me off with this emasculating bullshit??" She tried mouthing a response, but Adam pushed right past her into her room, grabbed his t-shirt that was hanging haphazardly off of her lampshade, kicked his worn-out Converse from under the bed, and silently jogged downstairs to the front door where he got dressed as best he could, closed the door behind him, and began the trek to Kyle's house. "Shit. I left my damn jacket there." He got about 2 blocks from Missy's house when he noticed that he was missing still missing a sock, but he couldn't care less. He figured that this would be the straw that broke the camel's back with Missy. He was finally free from their sexless relationship, and not a moment too soon. This was the usual process with Adam: He'd pick up on some girl who'd been pining for him and simply ride out the relationship...till it came time for sex. He'd take all the freebie hand and blowjobs, but when actual sex became an issue, it was pretty much over in his eyes. This may present a problem for an average teenager, seeing as how word would get around that the man wouldn't put out, but as said before, there was a long waiting list to be Adam's nameless girlfriend. About 15 minutes later, and with a blister forming on his left foot, he arrived at Kyle's place. The green Ford Explorer in the driveway meant that he and Kyle wouldn't be able to write the paper over a few beers, seeing as his parents were actually home. This isn't to say that Kyle's folks were deadbeats, but they were both research psychobiologists working on a groundbreaking stem-cell research project that kept both Kyle's parents at the office for 70 hour weeks, so them being home was indeed an oddity. Adam stopped at the stained-glass front door. "Wipe Your Feet, Stupid", the welcome mat told him, and he smirked out of delight knowing that Kyle had put his birthday gift to good use. He was unsure of whether or not to ring the bell; Kyle's parents' presence made him uneasy for some reason. He didn't have to wait long for his mind to be made for him. The door was almost ripped off the hinges, and there stood an agitated Kyle. At 6'1", Kyle was also a sexual force to be reckoned with. His body was nearly identical to Adam's but was tanner due to the fact that he was on the varsity water polo team. His sandy-blonde wavy hair constantly got in the way of his emerald green eyes, but didn't affect the depth one could easily see in them. "What the hell took you so long?! You know this has to be in Zihlman's box by 9 tomorrow. He's gonna shit all over me." Adam had to stifle his laughter. Here was his 19 year old best friend wearing a Pokemon t-shirt and pajama pants with booties attached. He looked him up and down and raised his eyebrow. "Nice PJs." "Give me a fucking break. It's laundry day and Jenna says they make me even sexier than I already am... If that's humanly possible." Adam cringed at the name, knowing that Jenna, being Kyle's 8 month-long girlfriend, had been incessantly nagging about the fact that Kyle spent more time with Adam than he did with her. "Well, she must've been trying to get you in the sack because I've never seen you look and more ridiculous." "Are you gonna help me with my paper or not? I'm freaking out, man. If I don't get at least a B+, my GPA's gonna go down the shitter; Which means no UCLA, which means no dorming together, which means no fun for the rest of your life. Got it?" Another jock worried about his GPA. What's the world coming to? "Well, maybe if you actually let me in, I'll consider it." "Sorry dude." Kyle finally stepped aside and let Adam in. "When you think about it, you helping me with my essay is basically you helping yourself. I mean, what'll you do without me at UCLA? Your life will have no meaning!" "Fuck you, dickweed." After the exchanges of the usual greetings occurred, they both headed upstairs to Kyle's room to start on the paper. After chewing the fat for a few minutes, the guys actually got their work done, and within three hours, "Nature vs. Nurture in Regards to Sociopathy" was complete. "I can't wait to see the look on that geezer's face when I hand him this baby." "Yeah. Me too." Adam quickly changed the subject seeing as he didn't want to talk, think, or hear anything about school anymore. "So, Missy and I are probably over." "WHAT?! What the hell happened?!" "I just—" "—You did that thing again, didn't you? She tried fuck you and you flipped out again, am I right?" God. It sounded even worse when someone else said it. A 19 year old alpha-male in his prime...unable to put out. "If you must know...Yes. That is what happened." "Dude. She's smokin'. If you can't make it with her, I really don't know what to tell you. I mean, this has been going on since you were 14. Ever since you and, what's her face," Kyle closed his eyes tightly, trying to remember a name, "—Kara! Holy shit. Kara Lindley! I remember it as though it were yesterday!" "Alright, alright. There's no need to rehash those days." Adam looked down at his shoed foot, feeling the sensitive skin of the freshly-forming blister. He winced in discomfort. "Dude, what's up with your foot?" "I got a blister walking over here to help your sorry ass. I think I left my sock in Missy's r—" Adam caught himself before he divulged and further embarrassing tidbits from his uneventful afternoon. Kyle smirked, but said nothing. "Do you wanna stay over?" "Is it cool with you parents? I don't really know them and I don't know how to act." "Don't sweat it man. I'm sure they'll be out of the house by 10. We can get a pizza, have some brews and veg out." "Sounds good to me." Kyle, being true to his word, ordered a pizza just as soon as his folks left at around 10; just as expected. Adam and Kyle had stripped down to their skivvies and a T-shirt and plopped on the couch for a long night of relaxing and just plain old shooting the shit. Adam decided now was a better time than any to call his mom up and tell him he was staying over at Kyle's. He made his way into the kitchen to use the phone. 10 minutes later, a visibly upset Adam plopped himself on the couch. "What's up?" "That bitch called my mom and told her that I'm gay, which is why I can't sleep with her. Can you believe that shit?! Now my mom wants to take me to some therapist to 'sort out my issues'." At this, Kyle laughed so hard he spit out the watered down beer he was sipping. "Gay?? You're shitting me. Man. Missy really is a bitch. That's harsh." Seeing that Adam was visibly upset by this comment, he decided to try and push his buttons to see how far he could go. "Now that I come to think about it..." "Shut the fuck up. I'm not gay, asshole." The broad smile on Kyle's face let on that he was joking, but he still kept on. "I mean, you can't perform with chicks. Hot chicks even. Chicks that are willingly putting out! Seriously though, how long have you been attracted to men?" "You're an ass." Both guys were laughing now, but Adam felt somewhat odd. A little confused even. He had never even thought of men in THAT WAY, but now he started wondering if maybe there was something wrong with him in that sense. I mean, why couldn't he make it with girls? He couldn't be gay. He liked women. He loved blowjobs from them. He got his rocks off, and that was that. Their banter lasted for about 15 minutes and the pizza had not arrived, so they flipped on the TV and tuned into Ultimate Fighting. "This is brutal. It's basically like a drunken bar fight but with a referee." "You think any contact sport is brutal, Ms. Synchronized Swimming." "Screw you. It's water polo, you douche. Anyway, I bet I could spar with a few of these guys." Adam figured now was the time to get back at him for the "Gay" comments he was making earlier. "Whatever. You wouldn't even last one round in Thurgood's wrestling ring with a JV girl." "That's it. Let's go. Right now, bitch." Kyle had leapt off of the sofa and began pushing the coffee table out into the kitchen. There was now a squared area in the living room for the "fight" to take place. "Please. This is embarrassing," Adam quipped, "You wouldn't want to get hurt before the final game versus the Hawks, would you? They handed you guys your asses last two times." "Screw you. Let's do it." From his tone, one could tell that Kyle was joking but still wanted to show that he could indeed beat Adam, a 2-time champ and all-out wrestling God at Thurgood. "I guess I'll have to humor you." The two guys got into position on the little rug where the coffee table once was. "Go!" Kyle immediately lunged for Adam's legs, and was unsuccessful. Before he knew it, Adam was right on top of him from behind, with his arms somehow being pinned behind his back. "That was—fool..ish." Both guys were exerting all their strength to try and make the other submit. Sweat was already gathering on their foreheads as they spat and swore. "Screw....YOU..ouch—dammit...Just...let me—" In one swift move, Adam had Kyle on his back on the rug, laying directly on top of him—straddling him. "Just give up...Kyle. Admit---that I'm—stronger—than you." "Fuck—YOU!" Kyle began thrashing under Adam, using all of his energy to try and break free from underneath him. At this moment, something was happening to Adam. Here was his best friend—a man—thrashing, sweating, and swearing underneath him. Using all of his strength to break free, but nothing was working. He could feel everything—Kyle's strong arms trying to find a way out. His golden hair covering his unbelievably emerald eyes. His stiff nipples raking through his shirt. His flaccid dick constantly rubbing against Adam's own growing cock. What the hell was going on? Adam still had a strong grip on Kyle's wrists, so he just continued to stare into his eyes. "Okay, damn it. I give up." Adam did not move, but just kept staring. "Dude. I said I'm done. I'm getting a cramp." No movement. Adam felt that familiar feeling in his loins. Kyle was completely oblivious to what was going on. He just knew that Adam, who was heavier than he, was not getting off of him and he was getting a really bad cramp in his calf, and was having a hard time breathing. Adam was completely confused. He was lost in thought. There was only the sound of a referee on TV screaming that Chuck Liddell was still the champion due to... "Adam...What are you doing?" Adam really didn't know. He began to lean in. Inch by inch. Closer, and closer. He could really feel Kyle's body heat and smell his sweat. There was only inches between them when... "Pizza Hut!" Adam literally jumped off of Kyle and ran to the door to pay the man. He made sure to give him a big tip seeing as how he stopped him from ruining his life and a 15 year friendship over what was going to be known as "The Great Beer-Induced Woody". Before returning to the living room with the pizza, Adam ran upstairs to the bathroom and splashed his face with ice cold water. He needed to snap out of whatever caused the truly mortifying experience in the living room. When Adam returned with the pizza, the coffee table had been replaced and there were two fresh beers waiting. "What the hell took so long? Did you go to Italy to get the Parmesan cheese?" "Fuck off." He plopped the pizza onto the table, cracked open his beer, looked at the seemingly unfazed Kyle, and began to think; What the hell just happened? Adam and Kyle Ch. 02 Hey everyone! This is chapter 2 of the Adam and Kyle Series. I hoope you enjoy! Finals came and went. Okay, not really, they came, consumed our lives and ruined relationships, and then went. Either way, it was all worth it now that school was done with...forever. Okay, once again, not forever, but for a few short months until Kyle and I go off to UCLA. We made it! It turns out Zihlman didn't give any crap to Kyle for his paper, so in essence, I didn't really need to help him with it a few weeks ago, and the whole embarrassing incident could've been avoided. Although bitching about it now doesn't really do much, the damage has been done. The funny thing is that Kyle doesn't seem fazed at all. He stills jokes with me about being gay (that fucking bitch, Missy), but what teenage boys don't joke about each others' sexual orientation? Honest to God, at Thurgood, "Hey, fag" was the new "What's up?" Anyway, he never brought up the incident again and he certainly doesn't treat me any differently. It's like it never happened. Me on the other hand, I'm completely baffled. I don't know what this means. Am I gay? No, I can't be. I find women attractive, yet am unable to have sex with them. I chalk it up to just being so emotionally connected to the guy; I mean, he's been my best friend for 15 years and I had just ended my relationship with Missy (or so it seems), so I figured my mind was just on sensory overload and reacted like any health male teenager would've reacted if someone was rubbing against his package. Right? Right. I didn't want to sit around the house for the few months I had off and wallow in my sexual confusion, so I decided to get a job at Palms, the local recreational center, working as a "Tennis Instructor's Assistant". This title in itself was odd; I mean, why does a tennis instructor need an assistant? Regardless, the pay was great (for someone just out of high school) and I'd be surrounded by excellent sports facilities that I had full access to. "Is there a racquetball court there?" "Yes." "A swimming pool?" "Duh." "A sauna?" "Yes, damn it. They have everything there." "Okay, okay. Keep your dick in your pants...please." "Fuck you, asshole." Once again, Kyle's ribbing had gotten the best of me. I had just finished my training and was in a lousy mood. This walk home was gonna be a long one if it continued this way. "So, I mean, why the hell did you take a 'Tennis Instructor's Assistant' job? When was the last time you actually played tennis? Freshman year?" "Hey! I was pretty good at tennis. Obviously, if there had been a wrestling-related job I would've gone for it. I guess they needed someone quickly and since I have a lot of experience in sports, they figured I was the best bet. Besides, it's $13.50 an hour and I get to ogle the goodies on all the tennis chicks." "Shit, you know I'll be visiting you 24/7." "I don't think Jenna would like that very much." He shot me a nervous glance. "I'm just fucking with you!" He nervously chuckled. "Don't tell Jenna I said that." I couldn't hold back the snort of laughter that came out. "I'm not kidding man! She's become so damn possessive of me ever since she found out I wasn't going to USC. She won't let me go anywhere without her and she makes me call every hour, on the hour. Hell, she damn near ripped my head off when I told her I was gonna meet you at Palms and find out how your interview went. She swore I was meeting my 'whore on the side'." "Pfft. And you said I was whipped when I was with Missy." I shuddered at the sound of her name. After about 10 minutes of brisk walking, we arrived at Buster's, the local pizza and beer joint. The fact that we were only 19 didn't stop us from enjoying alcoholic beverages. Since Kyle had been a part time employee there since he was 14, we pretty much had full access to the bar, and Kyle's rapport with Vince, the manager, gave us plenty of benefits. We sat down at our usual corner table with its gaudy plaid tablecloth and worn-out red leather booth seats. "Kenny, we'll take the usual!" Kyle screamed across the way. "So, what's up with you and her? Is it really over?" "Missy? Uh...YEAH. She's a damn psycho. And a nympho. I can't keep up." "I heard she's been asking about you. You know, what you're up to and if you're working." I hadn't spoken with her since that fateful day in the bathroom. I didn't even give her the obligatory hug at our graduation. It's not that I hated her, I mean, you couldn't really hate someone who looked like she does, but rather, I felt that our "relationship" had ran its course, and it was simply someone else's turn. "Who cares? The only thing I miss is my Letterman jacket I left in her room. That thing cost me a mint." "Here you go, guys. Two Buds and a cheese pizza." A young, handsome guy had come over and placed down the deliciously greasy pizza. "Thanks man" replied Kyle. "I haven't seen you around here? You new?" "Yeah, actually. My family just moved from Yuma and my dad's a good friend of Vince's so he hooked me up with a job as a menial pizza-serving waiter. The name's Corey." "Good to meet you," we both rang in unison. "My name's Kyle and this is Adam." I nodded in acknowledgement. "I myself am a menial waiter here," Kyle added. "Oh, sorry man. I didn't mean to offend—" "—Ha! No, you didn't offend me man, I know how it is. I've been working here since I was 14." At this point, their conversation was drowned out. I saw lips moving, but heard no words; I was too busy drinking in Corey. He too, was rather tall. I would say 6'2". His short spiky jet-black hair seemed groomed to perfection. His eyebrows were handsomely thick, and perfectly complemented his icy-blue eyes. His square jaw was hypnotizing, so defined and cut; like it was carved out of a slab of marble. And those lips, so full and thick perfectly paired with a mouthful of perfect teeth that he was constantly flashing, and his face was only the beginning. That prominent Adam's apple, tight pecs, what was sure to be washboard abs beneath his thin cotton t-shirt, damn-near perfects calves, and a fairly large bulge in his khaki board shorts—Wait. What?? What the hell is wrong with me?? What am I doing? Shit. I'm staring at the guy like he's some hot chick. Maybe I should've taken the number of that therapist my mom wanted me to see. "So what do you think, Ad?" The question brought me back from my eye-raping session with Corey. "Huh?" "Shit man, are you thinking about Eldridge's tits again?" This too, was a long-running joke that we had going. Mrs. Eldridge –being our 56 year old Government teacher—had tits that she could damn near trip over. "You're sick, asshole." "What I was saying, was if you'd be able to get Corey into that fancy tennis class of yours." "Uh, well, I don't know. I haven't even met the instructor yet and I think it would be kinda presumptuous to bring someone in and insist that they be enrolled. I mean, I'll try and bring it up after I get to know the guy." "Aw, come on, I'm sure if you just, you know, do him a "favor" he'll let Corey in aces." I felt the blood rushing to my face and go all the way to the tips of my ears. I was damn near about to slam his face into the greasy, untouched pizza on the table when I saw Corey smirk. I know that smirk. That's the "I Know What You're Talkin' About" smirk. I tried to think up a quip as fast as my brain would operate. "Oh yeah? I'm sure if you...You're the..." "Yeah, yeah. Too slow. Whatever." I slumped back in my chair; a sign of resignation and defeat. I had been thoroughly embarrassed and beaten. Corey hung around for another minute or two before Kenny yelled for him to get his "GQ-looking ass over here and give the paying customers their pizza." Corey said his "See ya later"s and I nodded in acknowledgement, yet again. He started to walk away when suddenly I felt the urge to yell, "I'm not actually gay, by the way!" Oh. God. Kyle starts howling with laughter and a few other customers snicker. Corey only flashes his perfect smile and salutes me. It's official: I'm a damn idiot. Not only was I embarrassed, but now I was pissed. People were going to start believing this shit. Once Corey was out of sight and I stopped receiving weird glances from the patrons in Busters, I reached across the table and punched Kyle square in the arm. "OW! What was that for?!?" As if he didn't know. "Dude, what the fuck?! That was humiliating!" "Chill man, we're all men here," he said as he finally took a swig of his beer and rubbed the sore spot on his arm. I feel like a kid in elementary school. You know the one I'm talking about. The teacher asks a question and the kid is so sure he has the right answer, so he just yells it out before some other greedy kid gets a chance to, but then realizes that he's wrong once all the other kids start laughing at him. It's a bad feeling. "Whatever. You're an ass." I get up to leave and throw a crumpled $10 bill on the table. Kyle is unfazed, as usual. "See you after work tomorrow?" "Fuck off." "Cool. I'll pick you up at 6." Kyle is smiling, and so am I as I push through the dingy double glass doors. He is an ass, but he knows I'll forgive him for pretty much anything. -------------------------------------------------- I was halfway home when it started to rain, so I had to run a few blocks to avoid catching a cold. I arrived at the front door, panting and sweating even though it's raining out. "Mom! Ben! Anyone home?" "I guess they're still at the parent-teacher conference meeting," I say to no one in particular. Ben had been having problems socializing with other kids for as long as I can remember. I blame my dad for that. The asshole left my mom when she was 7 months pregnant with Ben, and when he was born, she never had the chance to properly socialize him due to the fact that she was working 2 jobs and going to night school. I keep telling Ben that it's just because he's so damn smart, like Stephen Hawking or something-- except for the whole wheelchair and robot-voice box thing—which is why he's always separating himself; his brilliance gives him the right to be highly selective. I run upstairs and kick off my wet tan chinos and throw my not-so-white Ralph Lauren shirt in the hamper. This was my only "nice outfit". The outfit I wore to job interviews, weddings, funerals, school dances, and the like. I turned on the shower and ran back into my bedroom for my dirty little vice. I jog over to my CD rack, grab my Motley Crue CD, open the case, and pull my "George Michael: Greatest Hits" CD from its deceptive case and pop it into the boombox in the bathroom. If anyone found out about this, I could kiss my so-called heterosexual title goodbye. I put it on track 09, "Faith", and stupidly jumped into the shower before testing the water one more. "MOTHERFUCKER, that's cold!" After promptly turning up the hot water, I try to sing along with George as I do my best to dance in my tiny shower. "Well I need someone to hold me, but I'll wait for something more--" I stop and realize how gay I'm acting at this moment, so I immediately stop singing and just stand there. I need to stop this. I squeeze out a huge dollop of Herbal Essences (gay omen #2?) and start massaging my scalp. I close my eyes and a groan of contentment escapes my throat. I begin to think about work tomorrow, but I can't seem to focus. I keep thinking about the embarrassment at Buster's, the people snickering, and Corey's knowing smirk. His smirk...his perfect teeth, his washboard abs. I don't know what's come over me but it feels like the blood is draining from one head to the other. My fingers wrap around my filling cock and I slowly begin to jerk off. Corey's body...Those blue, blue eyes...those muscular arms...My breathing becomes faster. My hand is becoming a blur on my now rock-hard cock. He's on his knees in front of me...he grabs my ass and puts my steel cock inches away from his lips...he licks the sweet nectar dripping from me...My knees are beginning to shake and I feel that all familiar feeling in my balls. He swallows me whole and I can feel my dick hitting the back of his throat...I grab his head and begin fucking it relentlessly...he groans in pleasure and slaps my ass in encouragement..."Oh baby, I love your cock... I want you to fuck me all night long... I want your cock up my tight little ass and I want you to come inside of me"...I can't hold back anymore. Ropes of hot thick semen spray the shower wall and I have to grab the soap tray as my knees buckle so I don't crack my head open if I actually collapse. My legs won't stop trembling and my chest is still heaving as I slowly sit down in the tub. The hot water from the showerhead is getting a little bit colder, but I don't care. This was the most intense jerk-off session that I've had. And it was...thinking of a man. Holy shit. I am gay. I can't be. I CAN'T be. The hot was has run out, but I can't seem to get myself to get out of the tub. After what seems to be hours, I finally get out of the tub, turn off the boombox, wrap a towel around my waist, and give myself a long hard look in the mirror and say it. "I'm gay." Nothing. "Hi, I'm a homosexual!" I'm an idiot. "I think about naked men and jerk off in my shower!" I actually let out a giggle at this. "Jesus, Adam. What's wrong with you?" I say to myself. Walking out of the bathroom, I feel like I've had some sort of epiphany; some sort of progress towards my sexual orientation declaration. But there's only one way to be sure of it: the Internet! Oh come on, with all the reliable research to be done (gay porn websites, hours of cyber-sex, online communities that hook you up with literally thousands of willing participants that wanted nothing more than to help you get your rocks off, etc.), the internet would definitely help me solidify my existence. The computer makes some sort of odd, whirring noise as it boots up. "Piece of shit. Thanks again, dad, for the only thing you gave me; a 1991 IBM. Bastard." After about 15 minutes of odd noises, the computer finally logged me onto the world wide web. "Where to start? Where to start?" Gay porn? Too intense. Might scare me off. Local hook-ups? Way too intense. I may be ready to think about naked men, but I don't know if I can actually see them. I figure I should start off with what every other 12-48 year old pervert was doing: "Cyber-sex it is." I couldn't get the clap from a little dirty talk with some willing participants, and I wasn't afraid of being discovered. I click on the little "Chat" icon and a whole new window pops up. What the hell is all this? "Gay Bears Chat"? "Gay Twinks Chat"? "S&M Gay Chat?" Who knew that being gay had so many different options? After poring the long list of possible chat rooms, I stumbled upon a surprising Chat Room Title and actually laughed when I read it: "Am I gay? Chat" You've gotta be shitting me. It's a sign, right? Here goes nothing. The double click of the mouse opens up a new window where there are already several different conversations going on. UnReAlBoDy17 says he's having wet dreams about men in bicycle shorts. Sk8rBoi87 says he gets "weird feelings down there" when he looks at this guy in his Chemistry class. Who are these people? Since I don't feel the need to put out any more sexual ambiguity, I type what I see as "basic information". AJD195: 19/m/Los Angeles Within a matter of seconds, I'm barraged by several instant messages, all with messages akin to "How big is your cock?" or "Are you a top or bottom?" and "Do you use any toys?" I dig through the IMs and find a seemingly innocuous one from someone called BBallerChris. BBallerChris: Hey, how's it going? AJD195: Good, thx. And u? BBallerChris: Good. Thx. So u r having a hard time figuring out if ur gay? AJD195: Kinda. I had a weird experience with my close friend a few months ago and I keep thinking about this one guy's body. It's really weirding me out. BBallerChris: O. I c. Well, I think I can help you. AJD195: O yeah? How? BBallerChris: Well, if you don't want 2 burn in the fiery pitz of hell, you'll stop thinking about sucking cok you dirty lil' fagot. What the hell? A religious fanatic who uses AIM talk and misspells such key words as 'cock' and 'faggot'? Just my luck. I guess trying the chat rooms was a mistake. I quickly close the IM and the chat box. To hell with it. I glance over at my bed and it's looking unbelievably comfy to me. I throw off my towel, climb under the sheets, and manage one last glimpse at the clock before I drift to sleep. It's only 6:38pm. ------------------------------------------------- "ADAM!" What the hell? "ADAM JOSEPH DALY!" I look over at the clock; 8:42pm. Only two hours have passed. "YOU HAVE COMPANY!" Anyone short of John Lennon rising from the dead wouldn't be able to wake me from my sleepy stupor. "Knock, knock!' NO. FUCKING. WAY. That shrill voice could be only one person; the last person I ever wanted to see again. I jump out of bed and quickly look around the room. Shit. Nowhere to hide. AND, I'm as naked as the day I was born. I decide in bed, under the sheets was the safest place for me to be (I don't know how I came to this conclusion, but it seemed safe at the time). Maybe I could feign sleep, or illness? Oh God, no, then she would try to take care of me. I would just have to face her...Like a man. The door creaked open and there she was in the skimpiest outfit I'd ever seen. "Baby, you left your jacket at my place." Any man, gay or straight, would have no choice but to look twice or three times at Missy if she had walked by. Her wavy auburn hair was done up in pigtails. The "Golddigger" halter top she was wearing seemed to be smothering her D-cup breasts, and ended just above her shiny belly ring which really brought attention to her perfect abs. Her tight denim ultra-mini skirt topped off her extra-long legs and black stilettos. She had slutted it up for me, I assume. She had strategically dressed to make any straight man stand and salute, and God help me, I was. Why was this happening? Hadn't I just come to the conclusion that I was gay? That I prefer rock hard chests to big bouncy breasts? But I mean really, I'm a 19 year old dude. I get a half-chub watching a bathing suit segment on QVC. "I tried to call you earlier, but your line's been busy since 6." Shit. I forgot to log off the internet. Ah; the joys of having a Dial-Up ISP. "Thanks for bringing it back," I managed to croak out. She seductively placed my letterman jacket on the back of my computer chair. Her back was facing me for what seemed like forever; plotting her next move, I supposed, when she suddenly whipped around and gave me her best "You know You Want to Fuck Me" look. "Baby, you're not still upset about what happened, are you?" She began to approach me, fluttering her extra-long eyelashes. "Uh...Missy...I think that...Well...what I said earlier...I still mean it. I'm just not ready to have sex with you." Somehow, at this point, she had teleported across the room and was now sitting on my bed, massaging my thigh through my navy-blue sheets. "Oh baby. You don't have to do anything you want to do. We don't have to have sex, but I've been thinking about you for so long, and I came all the way out here to return your jacket. Doesn't that mean something to you, baby?" My heart was pounding, knowing that I wouldn't be able to do anything to stop this. I was completely naked and felt like my dick could punch a hole through a brick wall. The last time I'd done anything physical with another person was the "wrestling incident" with Kyle a few months back. Before that, I couldn't even remember when the last time I got a good blowjob was. Adam and Kyle Ch. 03 Hello once again! This is the third installment of the "Adam and Kyle" series. Also, the identical previous installments are titled under "Friends 'til the End", but will discontinued and simply be "Adam and Kyle". As always, feedback and comments are highly appreciated. I hope you enjoy! ------------------------------- Chapter 03 "You did WHAT with Missy last night?!" Kyle nearly swerved off the road when I informed him of the previous nights' sexcapades. "Yup. You heard me. And watch the damn road! I don't wanna die in some freak accident on my first day of work." Due to the fact that my family only had one car, I was often handed the short end of the stick seeing that my mom had so many things to do, so I usually walked or bummed a ride off Kyle as my main source of transportation. "Man. I told you she was gonna try to pull some shit, didn't I?" "I couldn't help it. She was basically naked and on her knees begging." I embellished a bit, but hey, what teenaged boy doesn't? "AND! I got my jacket back. If nothing else comes from us getting back together, at least I have that." "Pfft. Whatever." After about 10 minutes on the road, we pulled up in front of the Palms Recreational Center. "So, how do I look?" Kyle gave me the once over, and I was sure I was gonna get a smart-assed remark. "You know how Andre Agassi looked in the 80s? That peroxide-blonde mullet and his neon and paint-splattered get-ups?" I couldn't help but laugh. "Yeah, I know." "Well, you look like that...only gayer." Seeing as I was wearing a white polo shirt and tennis shorts and had my BROWN hair stylishly combed up, I knew he was really scraping the bottom of the barrel to come up with any good cracks. "Is that all you got? Man, you're really losing it." "Whatever." I opened the door and began to get out. "Are you gonna be able to get me after work?" "Uhhh... yeah, unless Jenna ties a leash to my dick and handcuffs me to a pipe in her basement." "I wouldn't put that beneath her. I'll see ya later." Kyle drove off as I walked down the treed walkway and swiped my employee card to open up the black wrought-iron fence. Seeing as Palms wouldn't be opening for another hour, there was not a soul around. I walked up the brick walkway and entered the off-white main building where a woman in her mid-twenties was sitting at the information desk. She was rather beautiful; she had long blonde hair that was done up in a neat ponytail and looked like one of those women in a Club Med commercial who was clad in a white bikini and snorkeling among tropical fish. "You must be Adam. I'm Arin." "Nice to meet you." "Sam won't be here for another ten minutes, so if you'd like I can show you the employee locker rooms and give you your equipment." Sam, being the tennis instructor, I presumed. I was only told that a Samuel Hewitt was the Big Man on Campus here at the Palms and I would be "privileged to work with such a great guy." "Sure, thanks," I replied. She led me through a "Staff Only" door and continued walking down the hallway. The floor was done up in some sort of Spanish tiling and the walls were a complementing stucco dark-mustard-yellow. "This is a really great place," I said, trying to make conversation. "I was only shown the sports facilities yesterday so I had no idea the rest of the place was done up so fancily." "Yeah, isn't it great? Apparently, some rich guy donated millions of dollars to have this place done up exactly like the tennis academy he attended in Spain and just expanded it to a complete rec center. I guess the nostalgia is worth millions of dollars." Beautiful and sarcastic; I was beginning to like her. "Okay. This is the locker room." She pushed through a wooden door that said "Men" on it. "Once Sam gets here, he'll issue you a locker and a combination lock if you don't have one. The showers are all the way on your left through the double archways and you can drop off and pick up your tennis gear at the cage right near the door." "Okay. Thanks." "Sam should be here any minute, so if you'd like you can wait for him on the main tennis court since you're already changed. Do you have a tennis racket?" "Er, not yet." Arin laughed. "A tennis instructor's assistant with no racket--Isn't that like a soldier going off to war without a gun?" I laughed nervously. "It's okay," she said, "I'm sure Sam will have an extra." "Okay. Thanks," I repeated. We parted ways and I headed towards the main tennis courts feeling slightly like a fool. The court was still empty; Sam hadn't arrived yet. I headed over to the metal bench and just waited. Within minutes, I heard the chain link fence open, then close, and that's when I saw him. 6'3" of Golden God. The first thing I noticed was his slight Five o' clock shadow; it gave him a ruggedly handsome look. His long sun-kissed sinewy legs seemed to glimmering in the early morning sun and his tennis shorts (which looked more like boxers) seemed to make them look even longer than they actually were. His damn-near transparent cotton t-shirt was doing complete justice to his sturdy, muscular torso and defined abs. His beautiful biceps were bulging under the strain of multiple tennis rackets in one arm and dragging a ball cart with the other. "Would you mind giving me a hand!" He yelled from across the courts. Oh God. My first day and I've already managed to completely make an ass out of myself. I nearly tripped over my feet trying to rise from the bench. I ran over and grabbed the rackets from him. "Sorry about that. I was kinda in another world." "No worries, mate." His thick Australian accent seemed to be dripping with honey and made him all that more appealing. "Sorry I'm late. Traffic was murder." He took off his UCLA Bears hat and I got the first real good look of his face. He had unruly light brown bed-head hair; lighter than mine, but just as thick. The brightest blue eyes I had ever seen, a nose that was a work of art-- a jaw and chin to match--and thick, pouty lips that seemed to be plastered in a smile that most definitely charmed every single woman he ever met. "So as you probably guessed, I'm Sam Hewitt, the tennis instructor. Sorry I couldn't make it yesterday to meet with you during orientation. I had some things I needed to take care of." "I'm Adam, and it's cool." His rugged good looks left me with a feeling of powerlessness. I felt like some blathering idiot around him and I if I was going to be this distracted whenever I was around him, working at Palms was either going to teach me a lot of self-control or end in utter embarrassment. "Did Arin get to show you all our facilities and Staff Areas?" His question snapped me back to reality. "Oh. Uh, yeah. But I don't have a tennis racket yet." He laughed. Oh god, that laugh. "A tennis instructor's assistant without a tennis racket, eh?" I couldn't help but blush at this. "Ha ha. Yeah, Arin said the same thing." "Well, I still need to change into my work uniform so if you come with me to the locker rooms, I can get you a better racket from the cage." "Yeah, I noticed there's a slight difference between our outfits." He looked at my crisp white polo and tennis shorts, then glanced at his ratty tennis shoes, what seemed to be boxer-briefs, and his thin cotton t-shirt. Again, he laughed. I could've sworn that I felt a stirring in my loins every time I heard his deep voice. "Yeah, to tell you the honest truth, I kinda rolled out of bed and sped here. Didn't want to be any later on my apprentice's first day." He socked me playfully on the shoulder and I felt a jolt of electricity run through my body and end at my cock. Oh god. This guy was doing something to me that I couldn't even explain. At this rate, every time the guy touched me I was gonna have to go take a cold shower and jerk off. "Shall we?" We left the mediocre rackets and cart of tennis balls on the court and we began the walk back to the locker rooms. As we entered the off-white building, Arin gave us a wave and batted her long lashes at Sam. "Well look who finally decided to show up." "Arin, darling, you know the only reason I actually come to work is to see you." She flashed him a huge smile and looked a bit flustered. "See you boys later." As we pushed through the "Staff Only" door, Sam led the way and basically gave me a quick recap of the rules at Palms while I was enjoying the view—him. "You can only enter and exit through the same gate when coming to and leaving from work." "Got it." "Make sure not to clock in any earlier than your designated time otherwise the general manager will be on you like flies on shit—excuse the language. You get the point." "Sure." "Despite the fact that we have an extremely good-looking staff and clients, there is no fraternizing among them. You can easily lose your job over that." I shot him a somewhat disappointed look, which evoked another one of his loin-stirring laughs. "Had your eye on someone already?" "Well, not anymore I suppose." If he only knew. "I know how you feel though. I actually met my girlfriend here but since we weren't able to date, we had to sneak around until she quit last month." So he was straight. And taken. He pushed through the men's locker room door, headed for the cage, and pulled out a ring of keys from his pocket. "As I'm sure Arin already told you, this here is the cage. You can drop off and pick up your equipment here, and on days when you arrive earlier than I do, you can also grab a cart of balls from here as well." I nodded. "Okay, so let me assign you a locker and a combination lock as well." He snatched a lock from beneath the desk somewhere and turned it around to find the combination lightly etched into the metal. "Here we are." We left the cage and began walking through rows 1-4 of the lockers. "Locker #361 is all yours and the combination is 11-23-37. Feel free to keep your uniform here so you don't have to constantly be dragging it back and forth. I have locker #397, just down at the end there, so if you need to leave me a message and I'm not around, feel free to just drop it in there." I nodded once again. I seemed to have lost the ability to articulate words and form them into sentences when I was around him. He entered the combo into his lock and the locker popped open, meanwhile I was still standing there, unsure of what to do or where to go. "Well mate, I suppose you can just stand there and watch me change, but if you'd like you can go grab a good racket from the cage." There wasn't a mirror around, but if there was, I'm sure it would' I turned every shade of red ever imagined. "Oh, uh, yeah, sure." I practically ran back to the cage and cursed myself the whole way for being such a fool. I opened one of the lockers in the cage and found a large array of rackets. "Wilson, Prince, Head...what's the difference," I whispered to myself. After holding several rackets in my hand, I finally decided on the Wilson Fusion. I started to put all the rackets back when I caught sight of him. He had pulled a bag from his locker--presumably containing his uniform--and had placed it on the changing bench. His back was facing me, but what a sight it was. He pulled off his white t-shirt and ruffled his already messed hair. His tan, broad shoulders seemed all encompassing and his muscles flexed although he wasn't exerting any strength. With his back still facing me, he swiftly pulled down his shorts and to my surprise and delight; he was not wearing any underwear. I nearly shot my load right there. It dawned on me that this was the first time I'd actually ever looked at another man naked, and enjoyed it. Sure I'd seen the guys on the wrestling team naked hundreds of times, but this time was different. I was actively looking at this guy's body, and deriving pleasure from it. He stepped out of the shorts and turned to the side to pick them up, and that's when I saw it—the largest dick I'd ever seen. Now, don't get me wrong, it's not like he was John Holmes big, but considering the fact that I'd really only seen my dick and a few other guys' from wrestling, it seemed huge to me. Perfectly thick and straight, cut, about 8 inches soft and only a shade lighter than the rest of his perfectly tanned body—it seemed damn near ideal. He threw his shorts and t-shirt into the locker and bent down and grabbed a pair of grey briefs from the bag. He slipped one foot into it and glanced quickly towards the cage. Oh shit. I've been caught. He quickly went back to slipping on his underwear, but then did a double-take once he realized I was standing there staring at him. My heart was about to burst out of my chest it was beating so fast, and I'm sure all the blood had drained from my face. I was a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar, or rather, his pants. I didn't know whether I should duck down real quickly and try to play it off or just pretend that I was looking somewhere else—but where? We were in the damn locker room and we were the only two people there. Not knowing what to do, I just stood there, still staring. That's when it happened. We were staring at each other, neither one of us moving, when all of a sudden, he flashed a cocky smile and quickly raised one of his eyebrows. It only lasted for a split-second, but I was sure he did it. He looked away, bent down and continued pulling up his briefs. I grabbed my racket and headed for the door. Once I exited the main building, I practically ran to the tennis court and just sat there. What just happened? Was Sam going to fire me because he caught me checking him out? What am I going to say to him? How should I act? Should I tell him I'm confused about what I am and was merely dazing off into space and just happened to be looking in his direction? A million questions ran through my head, all of which the answers scared me. I was sitting on the metal bench for what seemed like an eternity--but in reality was probably only ten minutes, when people started to pile through the chain-link fence. The majority of them were high school girls that I recognized as freshmen and sophomores at Thurgood and a few male seniors. Oh great, just what I needed. I had just gotten away from this place and now I'm forced to relive the memories. I assumed Sam still hadn't finished changing (either that or he was already on his way to the Rec Center director and telling him how he was sexually harassed by some new hire) so I took this time to introduce myself. "Hi, everyone. My name's Adam and I'm Sam's—I mean Coach Hewitt's assistant." Dull murmurs and greetings were heard all around the class of thirteen people. One arm shot into the air. "Yes?" "Didn't you used to go to Thurgood?" "Yes I did. Just graduated." "I knew it! I think you went out with my sister, Lisa." The rolodex in my head started spinning and I was trying to match the name to a face. Lisa...Lisa...Lisa. I was so close to remembering when I heard the chain-link gate slam shut and saw Sam dressed in the official Palms Instructor uniform: a crisp white polo and white shorts. "Welcome back everyone! Looks like we got a couple new faces here." The class heartily welcomed Sam and his thousand-watt smile beamed. "If you'll all just have a good stretch, we can start with a warm-up of just reviewing the basic back and forehands." The class scattered and Sam walked right over to me. Immediately, my heart started pounding and I felt the need to flee. I was sure he going to call me a fag and say that "My kind wasn't welcome here." Of course, that didn't happen. "What I'm gonna have you do is simply go around and scoop up the balls that they hit so we don't have to stop and waste any class time to pick them all up. Also, do you know how to hit a back and forehand?" I nodded once again. "I think so. The last time I did was a while ago but I'm pretty sure I can still do it." He smiled and I swore my knees got weak. "Okay. If anyone has any questions, answer them if you can otherwise just wave me over." "Will do." Okay; Now it was time to be confused. Did he really not notice what just happened in the locker room? Was he just going to play it off and act like it never happened? I wasn't sure if I was glad about it but I didn't have time to sit around and ponder it. The students were smacking forehands left and right and I was scurrying around the court trying to pick all the loose balls up before someone slipped on one and broke their neck. Despite the fact that I was in very good shape, I found myself constantly wiping the sweat off my brow and having to take short breathers. Wrestling was a very physical sport but it was always done in a nice air-conditioned gym—not outside in the Los Angeles heat. After about an hour and a half of constantly bending over to pick up balls, I was soaked in sweat and was getting a cramp in my thigh. Luckily, class was just about over. "Okay everyone. Great job out there! I know this seems rather boring to all of you seeing that it's all basic, but practice makes perfect so this'll be the last time we go through the fundamentals. Ah, that's about it for today so I'll see you all tomorrow." The female students lingered and made small talk with Sam while they batted their eyelashes and twisted their hair. "How pathetic," I muttered to myself while continuing to pick up balls, "But then again, that's probably what I'd be doing if I had tits." I felt a pang of jealousy but then realized that these were 15 year old girls trying to woo a 25 year old Greek—or rather Australian—God whose girlfriend was probably just as gorgeous as he was. The other students were saying their goodbyes to each other when I saw Lisa's sister—the one who asked me if I went to Thurgood—shoot me a look of arrogance and disgust. I cringed thinking about what Lisa had told her about me and the reason why we broke up. After about five minutes, Sam and I were the only ones left on the court. I was finishing picking up the balls and he was scribbling something into his binder. I managed to pick up the remaining balls and was wheeling the cart over to Sam. "You did a great job out there today." Ha. Still acting like a coach, I thought. I couldn't help but scoff. "Well, you know how imperative it is to ensure the students' safety by making sure there's no loose debris on the court," I said sarcastically. Once again, he flashed his gorgeous smile and I felt my stomach turning in knots. "Well mate, you got me there," he said while laughing. "But really, you're doing great." I smiled and gave a weak nod. I grabbed the ball cart and tennis rackets and started heading back to the locker room when Sam called my name and walked over. "Since I didn't get to meet with you yesterday and get to know you all that well, did you wanna maybe grab some lunch? You deserve it for picking up after them." My throat went dry and it wasn't because of the heat. Me and him? Sitting alone? Together? Having to converse? No Adam. Don't. Don't do it. It'll be an enormous embarrassment and you're going to regret it. "Sure." I truly was thinking with my dick. "Great. Just let me finish up here and I'll meet you in the lobby in about half an hour. Do you have a car?" "Er, no. I bummed a ride here off a buddy of mine." "No worries, we'll take mine." I nodded once again and continued my walk towards the main building. I entered through a back door that led directly to the Men's lockers and pushed the cart and rackets into the cage and made sure to lock it. I wiped my hands on my not-so-white polo and realized how sweaty I was. I couldn't go anywhere like this, let alone with the hot Aussie, so I decided to take a quick shower. As I grabbed a towel from the cage, I heard the showers running so I knew I wouldn't panic at the possibility of being in the locker room alone with Sam again. Adam and Kyle Ch. 04 Hey guys! Sorry about the long wait between chapters. With school and work, unfortunately this story has been put on the backburner. I hope you enjoy the latest installment! As always, feedback and comments are highly appreciated. H.V. --------------------------------------------- CH. 04 "She's a beaut, isn't she?" Sam probably had to hold back his laughter when he saw my face. "A 1965 Metallic Blue Ford Mustang Convertible? No fucking way!" I had forgotten that I was speaking to my boss, and not some random guy off the street, but he didn't seem fazed. "I know. Took me about a year to restore her, but I must say it was worth every penny." I practically had to pick my jaw up off the floor and wipe the drool off my chin before I even got near the car. I hadn't realized how long I had been standing there staring at the car, but Sam's question snapped me back to reality. "You ready? I'm so hungry I could eat a horse." I had to scoff at that. How original. "Liked that one, did ya?" "It's a classic," I said as we slid into the car. Sam started her up, pulled out of the Employee parking lot, and headed for Buster's. "So, just tell me where to go." "Uhhh, it's about 10 minutes away. Head down Clarence St., make a left on St. George, then a left on Mills." "Gotcha." It was pretty much a quiet drive there. I figured Sam thought I was admiring all the fine details in the car, which I was, but I was also wondering why he was being so cool with me. I mean, he is a very nice person to everyone, but my wishful thinking is in overdrive. I thought I'd prod a bit. "So how long have you been working at Palms?" "Going on a year and a half next month." "Wow. So you've been there for a while." "Yup. It's a great place to work. There's good benefits, get to meet great people, not to mention stay in shape...for free." "Makes sense. And you said you met your girlfriend there?" "Yes. Michelle." "Cool." There was a pause in conversation. "Why do I feel like I'm being interrogated," he said with a hint of a smile on his lips. I laughed nervously. "Sorry, just trying to make small talk." He laughed. "It's cool. I mean, we're gonna be friends, not just co-workers." "You mean 'Boss' and 'minion'." He laughed again. I felt that stirring in my stomach once more. "Whatever you say," he said smiling. We pulled up to Buster's and luckily found a spot to park in right out front. "Well this is an interesting place," he said with a bit of uncertainty while pulling open one of the double doors. Now it was my turn to laugh. "Yeah, I know, it doesn't look like much from the outside, but it's been here since I was born, so they gotta be doing something right." We walked towards the back to Kyle and mine's usual table when I noticed that practically all the women in the joint turned their heads to look at us, or rather, him. We plopped into the booth and Sam reached for a menu. He skimmed it for a minute before he excused himself to the bathroom and asked me to order him 3 slices of cheese pizza. "Should I get us some beers?" I called out after he got out of his booth. He stopped and turned around. A wicked grin appeared on his handsome face. "A beer? Aren't you like, 13 or something?" "Ha-ha." I couldn't think of a witty retort because I was smitten with the fact that he was joshing me. I just sat there stupidly with a dorky grin on my face as he pushed through the bathroom door. I began skimming the menu, though I don't know why—I had been going there since forever. I was simply restless for the time Sam was gone, waiting for him to return. I started looking around the room, seeing if there was anyone I knew. I didn't see Kyle so I assumed he was on his break, most likely with Jenna. I was about to walk over to the jukebox when I saw a familiar face staring my way. Oh shit. It was Corey. In my lustful haze, I had completely forgotten about him and the fact that he worked here. We locked eyes and he gave me the obligatory male greeting: "The Nod". I guess my body language told him to come over, seeing as he started walking towards my table. "Hey, how's it goin'? It's Adam, right?" "Right. Corey. It's going swell." "Cool, cool. I didn't see you come in." "Oh, ha, yeah. Actually, we just got in a second ago." "We? Are you with Kyle?" I shot him a look of confusion. "Huh? Kyle didn't come to work today?" "Nope. Didn't call in sick, either." "Huh. That's odd." Corey then hollered across to the kitchen where he informed Kenny that he was "taking a ten". He then plopped down in the seat across from me—Sam's seat. "So how's your job been?" "Uh, it's been good. I, uh, I...it's...it's really fun." I hadn't forgotten about the embarrassing incident between us and how his utter sexiness made me lose my system of speech...not to mention the anxiety I was feeling. "Well, that's good. There's nothing worse than a boring job. It's actually pretty okay here though, you get to meet a lot of cool people everyday." "Good. Good. So how's Kyle treating ya'? If he gives you any shit, just tell me and I'll make sure to beat some manners into him." He laughed out loud at this. "No, he's really cool actually. I can see why you guys are best friends." "Yeah, we are." I don't know why I felt the need to reaffirm this. Was I feeling threatened? Nothing was said for a few seconds, then a few seconds more. We just stared at each other. I started wondering what the hell was taking Sam so long in the bathroom. I looked over to the bathroom door—no movement. Shit. My face felt familiarly hot and I was probably starting to blush. I felt trapped. I felt like Corey knew I had been checking him out the last time I was here. I was sure I was about to bolt when I felt something touching my leg. I practically froze, knowing what it was. Despite the fact that it was completely elementary and childish, the fact that Corey was running his foot up and down the length of my calf gave me an immediate boner. Holy shit. Corey was gay. AND he was hitting on me. I was too shocked and embarrassed to look at Corey's face, so I focused on the plaid tablecloth. Thoughts started running through my head as the blood rushed from one head to the other. Does this mean that he knows I'm confused? Did he tell Kyle? HOW did he know? Do I LOOK gay? I don't know how long this little footsy session would've lasted (probably long enough for me to shoot my load right there at the table), but it didn't last long. Someone clearing their throat made me nearly jump out of the seat. "Sam!" I don't know why I felt the need to scream. "Hi there. You doing alright? You look a little off," he said with a laugh. "Are you still reeling from me calling you a kid?" "Oh no. I'm fine." "Great." He looked at me, and then he looked at Corey. "Hi. I'm Sam." He extended his hand. "Corey, this is Sam, my boss over at Palms. Sam, this is Corey. He works here with Kyle, my friend we were talking about earlier." They looked each other up and down, then Corey got up and shook Sam's hand. "Nice to meet you," they both rang in unison. "Do you wanna join us for a slice of pizza?" "Oh, I wish I could, man. I gotta get back to work but I'll probably be by your table later on." "Alright. It was nice meeting you." Corey headed off towards the kitchen, but not before giving me a wicked grin. "Sorry about taking so long in there. I needed to call Michelle and I didn't want to lose your respect over some of the things you might've heard me say." I laughed nervously. "So where's the beer?" "Shit! I forgot to get them." As if by magic, at that exact moment, Corey came over with a pitcher of beer and a large Cheese pizza. "It's on the house guys." "Oh no, I couldn't let you do that—" Sam and I both muttered faint refusals. "It's cool. In celebration of Adam and his new job." "I say that's something to celebrate," Sam said. "Thanks Corey." "No problem," he said as he made his way to a table across the room. "That was nice of him." "Yeah. Wasn't it?" The rest of lunch was rather a blur. Sam and I talked and laughed—just like any two guys shooting the shit. We talked about girlfriends (past and present), sports, movies, and all the "Getting to Know You" topics. He reminisced about high school and about how he was "such a geek". Yeah, right—ALL the hot ones say they were geeks—but his honest and humble attitude made me believe every word of it. I told him about all my "girl problems" and how I couldn't stay in a steady relationship (though I withheld the fact that I was a virgin and that I was the one who would never put out), but how I thought that Missy was "The One". Pfft. Yeah RIGHT. Once again, just something to say. Whether an hour or a day had passed, I didn't know. I was so involved with Sam; with him as a whole. Not only was he sexy as hell, but he was intelligent (He practically memorized his old college psychology and biology book), charming, and extremely humble and polite. I imagined that the way I was feeling right now is the way he felt when he was with his girlfriend—pure bliss. I felt a lurching in my stomach when I acknowledged the old adage: "All good things must come to an end." Apparently, more than an hour had passed (two and a half to be exact) and Sam had to go and pick Michelle up from work since her car had broken down on the freeway earlier that morning (That's what the phone call in the bathroom was about). He politely offered me a ride even though I knew he was in a rush, but I made up an excuse about having to meet Kyle here in ten minutes anyway. "Are you sure? I mean, I could give you a ride no problem." "No, really. It's cool. Thanks though." "No problem. Please thank Corey again for the pizza." "Will do. I'll see you at work tomorrow." "No doubt. I won't be late this time. See ya." He slammed his car door shut, pulled out of the spot, and headed down the street. I waited till he was out of sight, and then nearly collapsed on the wall. God, I missed him already. I felt like I could float all the way home. I didn't know that simply having lunch with a person could be so deadly. I kept telling myself that if for any reason he turned around and came back, I would blow him right then and there, despite the fact that he was straight. I felt that worked up. I sat myself down on the sidewalk and looked nowhere in particular. I wished I had a cigarette—like in the movies. I imagined myself taking a long drag, exhaling, then closing my eyes. Just imagining it made me feel even better. About ten minutes had passed and I still hadn't gotten up off the sidewalk. I probably would've sat there all day had I not been snapped back to reality. "Adam? Hey, Adam!" "Huh?" "You okay, man?" It was Corey. He repeated himself. "Are you okay?" "Yeah. I was just thinking about work and stuff." He laughed. "Riiight." It was as if he could read my mind and was having a laugh at my expense with all the dirty things running through my head. "Aren't you supposed to be bussing some table?" I said with a rather jokingly snobby air as I struggled to push myself up off the ground. During the twenty or so minutes I remained on the floor, daydreaming, my leg had betrayed me and fallen asleep. Corey, seeing as how I was struggling, steadied me by grabbing hold of my waist and I instinctively grabbed onto his shoulder. "Leg's asleep?" Based on the shit-eating grin on his face, I knew he damn well knew the answer to that and was simply teasing me. "Yeah, ha ha. Awkward position." This was indeed an awkward position. I felt like we were taking a prom photo—his hands on my waist and me awkwardly holding his shoulder. "Thanks," I muttered as I finally let go of his shoulder. He took this as a cue and let go of my waist. "Listen, Kyle just called and said something about having to help Jen with some issue she's apparently having." "Huh? So?" "Well, didn't you tell that guy Sal that you were waiting for him to pick you up?" Shit. I had forgotten that whole elaborate story as to why I didn't need a ride from him. I guess that's what happens when you tell lies upon lies. It occurred to me then that I had told Sam that I didn't need a ride, but never said anything about it to Corey. How did he hear...? "Oh, yeah. Right. It's Sam, by the way. Not Sal." "Oh...sorry." There was a moment of silence between us where either of us didn't know what to say. "So do you need a ride home?" "Uhhh. Yeah. Sure. Are you all done here?" He nodded. "Just finished. My car's out back." I nodded as calmly as possible and followed him through the tiny alley and into the parking lot. We made our way through a bunch of crappy old sedans and stopped next to a particularly ugly one. I heard the "beep beep" of a car alarm being disengaged in the distance. I was thinking what a shame it was for a guy like Corey to be stuck driving a heap like this, when he looked at me and laughed. "What are you doing? Get in." I pulled on the rusted door handle and it didn't budge. "Well? How am I supposed to if the door is locked?" He laughed yet again. "Not that one. THAT one." He nodded in the vague direction of a car I KNEW couldn't possibly be his. I couldn't help but laugh. "Yeah...Right." He shook his head as if to show his disappointment with my disbelief, opened the door, plopped into the driver's seat, and started the car. Once again, I'm sure if it could've, my jaw would have been on the floor. There he was, sitting in an ice silver metallic 2008 Audi A8. No 20 year old deserved this car. Shit, NOBODY deserved this car. I stumbled over and plopped down in the micro-suede bucket chair and gently closed the door. There was an odd silence. I wasn't looking at Corey, but I was sure he was smiling from ear to ear. I started to ask the question I'm sure he got ALL the time. "How did you aff—" "—Don't ask. I don't know. "What do you mean, 'You don't know'? It magically appeared in your driveway with your name on it?" He laughed. "Practically. I honestly don't know! A few weeks before we left from Yuma, I came home from school and it was sitting there in the driveway. When I asked my dad about it, all he said was 'Don't worry about it. It's an early graduation gift.' Not one to complain, I left it at that." That smug bastard. "You are one lucky son of a bitch." "I know. I think my dad was trying to butter me up—trying to make me feel better about uprooting my whole life and moving it to Los Angeles." "Shit, I'd move to a whole 'nother planet to get a ride like this." God. I realized how pathetic I was probably beginning to sound—like an eager little girl fawning over some guy and his hot ride. I quickly tried to recover. "I mean, it is a nice car, but it doesn't beat the sentimental value of my Uncle's '91 Buick Century that I sometimes drive. Wouldn't trade that for anything." There was a moment of silence where we both just looked at each other—then exploded into laughter. Knee-slapping, can't breathe, jaw-hurting, stomach-holding laughter. "Ahhhh god. That was a good one." We were still in the parking lot when the dark clouds came rolling in—looked like another storm was on its way. "So...you wanna drive?" "W—What?" "You heard me. I'm awfully tired and don't feel like driving your sorry ass home, so if you want, you can drive yourself home while I rest." "You're kidding. What if I drive this thing off a cliff? Or decide to hi-jack it and take you hostage or rather throw you out while going 50 on a curve?" Ha laughed. "Don't worry, I can take care of myself. Plus, I can easily overpower you if it came to that." I snickered. Corey was in great shape, but him, take ME down? That was entertaining. "Switch seats asshole." God. I was getting sassy with this man that I hardly knew. He brought out playfulness in me that I didn't know I could share with anyone besides Kyle. I reached for the handle when he grabbed my arm. "Just crawl over. I don't want the suede to get wet." "Huh?" He looked at me like I had a learning disability, and spoke with the same manner. "IF YOU OPEN THE DOOR, THE RAIN, WHICH IS FALLING FROM THE CLOUDS, WILL WET THE SUEDE." I hadn't realized that it had indeed begun to rain. "Uhhh, okay." Corey swiftly unbuckled his seatbelt and began to crawl over the gear shift. I quickly fumbled with my seatbelt and began to do the same. Corey was practically on top of me as I tried my best to wiggle out of the chair and cross over, without hurting his car. I was breaking out into a sweat when I realized that I would have to wait 'til Corey WAS on top of me to switch seats. With his face a mere inch away from mine—I nearly lost control. Something primal came over me, telling me to grab him and kiss him hard. He had very light stubble growing in, almost undetectable to the eye, and his cheeks were stained with blush as well; it was starting to get hot in the car and all the movement wasn't helping. I could smell his cologne, and it drove me temporarily crazy. I don't know how much time had passed, but his question brought me back to reality. "Dude. Are you gonna move?" "OH. Yeah. Crap, sorry." I slid out from beneath his hovering body and maneuvered myself into the driver's seat. "You ready for the drive of your life?" He smiled wickedly. "Uhhhh, yeah." "Just keep her under 50." "Heh, right." I slowly put the car in drive and pulled out of the parking lot. Corey didn't really need to tell me to keep it under 50. I didn't even surpass 25. Everyone knows that people become stupid when it rains in Los Angeles, and I didn't want to take any chances. The whole drive home was pretty quiet. I was concentrating on driving and Corey did seem somewhat tired. I would've enjoyed it more, but my head was still spinning from the day's earlier activities. I was still thinking about Sam...eager to see him again, but I was also starting to feel strong feelings for Corey—animalistic feelings. I slightly lost control whenever I was around him. I didn't understand these feelings. Throughout my four years at Thurgood, I never experienced it. Not to sound smug, but the girls came after ME; I didn't really have to do anything about it. Having a man that coyly threw himself at me was an altogether new experience. By the time we pulled up in front of my house, it was pouring rain and I didn't see my mom's car in the driveway. No one was home and I left my keys in my goddamn locker at Palms. Corey looked at me confusedly when I silently cursed. "Shit. I don't know where my mom is and I left my keys at work." "Do you want to drive back to Palms? We can go get it." "Everyone's already gone for the day. Do you have a cell phone?" He opened up the chrome glove compartment and pulled out a small cell and handed it to me. I quickly dialed my mom's number. "Hello?" "Mom. Where are you?" "Are you serious? I've only told you for the last WEEK that I was taking Ben to see your father in San Diego this weekend." "What?! Why? What could he possibly want from you and Ben?" "Honey, don't get upset. He called me and said he wanted to see him—that we needed to 'sort things out'. Just give him a chance." "Yeah. Whatever. Listen, I left my keys at work in my locker—" "Look under the doormat, Ad. There's food in the fridge. I'll see you Sunday night." I closed the cell phone and handed it back to Corey. He looked at me questioningly. "Don't ask. It's a long story." He nodded. "Well, thanks a lot for letting me drive. It was intense."