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Stumbling

By: snowlova



We met to "Can't help falling in Love" cover by Twenty One pilots. I was sitting at the bar with my sister, Rose, trying to get out of taking shots with her and her college friends. I'm not the biggest fan of hangovers, but who is. I see a man walk up to the bar, ordering a rum and coke. He sits a measly two bar stools away, but I could see his face perfectly. Blonde hair, blue eyed, broad shouldered hunk. He looked like a twin of Captain America, after they enhanced him.

I guess he stopped dancing because of the slow song, I don't really know, all I know is that he seemed to be taking demure glances in my direction. I blushed and looked away, for fear that he would notice my attention. I had known I was gay since seventh grade, when instead of lusting after Becky Li like all the other boys, I went for Jack Peters, the leader of the lacrosse team, and my best friend. We still email, but we're not close. I came out my Junior year of high school. It wasn't bad, but it wasn't great. I had told my parents and younger sister the year before, and they had accepted me through and through. In school, I got teased a little. Sometimes, you could hear words whispered down the halls, but no one ever confronted me. I lost a couple of friends, but my best friends, Lyn and Theresa, stayed with me, and that was the most fundamental key to my happiness. 

So, Captain over there, (which will be his nickname), finished off his drink and went back to the dance floor. He could dance. He moved like water between people, never staying with one person to long. He rolled his body like he didn't have bones. He was a god on the dance floor. By now, I was quite warm and a little uncomfortable in my skin tight, blood red jeans with my cock perking up from Captain out there. Then, he looked at me, and winked. I shuddered at the thought of what that man could do in bed. 

I noticed we had an audience as I looked at my sister. "So, that's your type."

"Shut up Rose, I don't have a type."

"Everyone has a type, like I'm into guys with black hair, blueberry eyes, and huge dicks."

"Ew Rose, you're such a perv."

"At least I'm honest, you can't even you have the hots for..."

"Am I interrupting?"

I slowly turn around on the squeaky barstool, seeing Leo, aka my boyfriend of 5 months. Leo is... well he's really smart. Like genius smart. He wants to major in analysis and functional analysis. Aka, math, and more math. I, on the other hand, was a culinary arts major. I had always wanted to own my own bakery, and it would be great to finally get my associates degree for baking and pastry arts. 

Leo was a good guy, a smart guy, but not very social or nice sometimes. He was like one of those geniuses who didn't what was socially acceptable to say and not to say. Rose didn't like him, at all, but he was cute and funny, with his messy mop of blonde hair and glasses, along with his lean build since he liked to run and listen to math stuff that I still don't understand. He was very sweet to me, always acting like a gentleman. 

The only problem with our relationship, for me, was that he kind of sucked in bed. He just couldn't seem to figure out how to pleasure a man. It was kind of sad, but I figured, if that's the only thing wrong with our relationship, then we must be doing pretty well. 

"Hey there, geek, how's the numbers doing, discover anything new about pi?"

"Why hello there Rose, always a pleasure."

"Why of course Leo," Rose sneered, "I see the big man on campus is out for the night, finally decided that Paul was more important that what x equals?"

"Rose, stop being such a bitch to Leo, he hasn't done anything to deserve this!"

"He took me away from you, without even a sorry, that's enough to piss a girl off."

Rose has always been very protective of me since our mom died in my sophomore year of college. Rose took care of everything, since Dad and I were too broken up about it to barely function. From then on, Rose was kind of like the Mama Bear of the family. She stepped up, stopped her classes at university for a semester to help dad and make sure he was still on his feet. She visits him every weekend, and I visit him at least twice a month, usually more. 

"Sorry for falling for your brother, sorry for trying to make him happy, sorry for being a good boyfriend? From all that I know about social interactions, these are not things to say sorry to someone about."

That shut her up.

"Look, guys, you're both awesome, but I have a test on pies tomorrow; thanks for the reminder sis, and I'm exhausted, so I'm going to go back to the apartment and get some shut eye."

"But I just got here." Leo almost whined, which was surprising. 

"We'll go get lunch tomorrow, promise, and now you have time to bond with Rose."

Neither looked happy about the situation. 

"Well, good night."

"Night Paul, see you tomorrow." Leo stated with sad puppy dog eyes, kissing me on the cheek lightly. 

"Nighty night brother, don't let the bed bugs bite."

"Shut up Rose."

I walked out the doors of the club, walking down the two blocks at a leisurely pace, since the city always looked so beautiful at night. I was looking at the high rise when out of nowhere I slam straight into a brick wall of muscle, falling straight on my ass

"Ow, what the fuck."

"Oh god, I'm so sorry, I was looking for a friend, I didn't even see you; do you need anything."

He stumbled over his words in a way that made him sound so adorable and flustered. I looked up and it was Captain, the man from the club.

"No, I'm good Cap... umm random stranger."

I mentally face palmed myself. Random stranger, what the fuck Paul, you sound like an idiot. 

"Are you sure, that was a pretty hard fall."

"I think I'll be okay, my apartments only a block away."

He looked around shyly, then almost whispered "If you wouldn't mind, I would feel better walking you to your door, just to make sure you don't have a concussion. 

Maybe I should have found it creepy, but it was just so cute to see this huge man look so tame, so I decided, why the hell not.

"Sure, that sounds reasonable enough."

We ambled slowly, talking about life. His name was Zayne. He had lived in Ohio, but had moved out because he wanted to go into a new major of college. He was a year older than me, but he looked much older then he said. 25 years my ass. He had a pet ferret named muffin, which was his only friend in this new town. He enjoyed skiing and watching trashy reality TV. We bonded over both of these things. 

I told him a little about my life, like my name, age, how I could speak three languages, and that I was obsessed with red pandas. They were just so cute and furry. When we finally arrived at my apartment, we traded numbers and promised to have dinner one night. What the hell am I going to tell Leo?

Stumbling Ch. 01



The moon was sleeping, the night alone to spread its darkness over the landscape. Landscape was a sort of glorified term in this case, if I'm honest. At least it was dark. Helps to cover the ugly I suppose.

On one side of the road, there was a near never ending stream of pine trees, swaying slightly with the cold winter's wind. The other side was a mixture of cow paddocks interspersed with houses and windbreak tree lines. I was traveling down the winding, lineless back road on my usual way home from school. Football practice had run long, thus the sun had already gone down by the time I'd left the field. By the time I set off for home, darkness had taken over completely. My old S-10's surprisingly bright headlights lead the way as I shifted in my seat with the turns. Every bend in the road was one step closer to a nice hot shower, perhaps even a quick bit of 'alone time' before bed.

A stop sign marked where the road ran into the side of county road 734. From there it was only four more miles to my bed. Not to mention the shower. I had started to move my foot from the brake to the gas when I heard three sharp, quick pops. They sounded almost like short claps of thunder, but there was no rain to be had. I knew right away they were gunshots. Living in the country, it's not unusual to hear them. Sometimes, someone's been hunting. Other times, somebody may have just felt like shooting off a few rounds. I thought nothing of it.

I turned right onto the old road. Half a mile later, the road curved to the left. As I came out of the bend, I saw a sheriff's car parked alongside the road with its lights on. Slowing down, I made to go around it, rubbernecking as anyone would of course. Strangely, no car was parked in front of the deputy's. The door of the car was even with mine when I saw it, or rather him.

He was on the road from the waist up, in the ditch from the waist down. I immediately swerved and slammed on brakes, coming to a stop on the wrong side of the road, the front somewhat facing the opposite ditch. My heart pounded in my chest as I placed the shifter in park, undid my seatbelt, and scrambled out the truck. The echo of my hand hitting metal sounded briefly as I grabbed the end of the truck bed to launch around the corner faster.

I ran up to him. His face was pale. The wool on the collar of his coat had started to turn an alarming shade of pink. I could hear him mumbling something unintelligible into his mic as the blood poured out from three different holes which shouldn't have been there. The one on his leg wasn't bleeding as badly as the stomach or chest wound, though I couldn't see the chest wound for his hand. I took my belt off to tie it over the hole in his leg. Once finished with that, I pressed as hard as I could on the man's stomach wound. The blood felt warm and wet as it slid over my fingers, despite there being no gaps between them. I looked up to the man's face to ask him if help was coming. He only managed to nod yes.

As soon as I'd seen his face, I knew who he was, though it hadn't quite registered until then. Mr. Kirk had spoken at our school a number of times. His son was the class nerd, as well as being singled out as the school queen. Whether or not he was actually gay had never been established. Everyone just assumed, thus taking it as license to make Richey's life miserable. The weirdest thought went through my head in that moment. I couldn't help thinking of how different the two were. Mr. Kirk was fairly tall, though quite round in his old age with his gut sticking out. Richey was a toothpick. Mr. Kirk had brown hair while his son was blond like his mother. Again like his mother, Richey's face was narrow. The abject look of terror mixed with pain on the round face in front of me slowly started turning to one of resignation.

"Mr. Kirk, tell me what to do!" My hands shook the man slightly as I yelled.

"Pray..." He mumbled. Blood seeped out from between his lips.

"No,no,no,no,no..." I could feel myself panicking.

The only noise around us was the puttering of my exhaust and the occasional dog or owl. I tried to remember what I'd been taught one time in a health class. No one ever pays attention in health class. I tossed my brain upside down like I was looking for my phone in my room. Nothing.

"Come on Mr. Kirk, talk to me, about anything, it doesn't matter."

A small grin appeared on his face. "You may be right about that..." His eyes closed.

"NO! Stay awake Mr. Kirk! Now isn't the time for a nap!" One hand left the grip I had on the stomach wound to grab the side of his face and direct his eyes at mine. They opened slowly, appearing glassy like someone drunk almost.

The hand that was on his chest wound rested on mine on his stomach. Sirens had begun to wail in the distance. His mouth opened slightly, some blood immediately spilling out again. He closed, swallowed, and tried again.

"Tell Donna... Tell Donna-" He started to cough a bit. "Tell her and Richey I love them please... Peter too..." Peter was Richey's younger brother. Mr. Kirk's eyelids closed, fluttering as they did so.

"Oh shit..." I mumbled.

I sat stunned for a moment. Suddenly, urgency came over me. CPR training had never crossed my mind before. I made my best attempt at copying what I'd seen on TV. The first pump, I heard some loud cracks, which an EMT later told me were his ribs breaking. I kept this up until a black pickup with a red light flashing on the dashboard pulled up. An average sized man in jeans jumped out, running over to us. I recognized him as Mr. Guthrie. My mother went to church with him. He'd been on the volunteer fire department for as long as I'd been alive.

"I got it kid." His voice was low, yet firm as he gently pushed me out of the way to take my place. His compressions were firmer and more consistent than mine. Blood seeped out both the small little holes I could see with each down and up movement. Sirens were coming closer all the while. A bloody handprint stood out on Mr. Kirk's face where I'd held him.

An ambulance came screeching around the curve as more flashing lights illuminated the sky. The shrillness of the siren hurt my ears. Air whooshed out as the brakes came on. The noise abruptly stopped, though the lights stayed on. Two men in plain clothes hopped out of the front. One carried a box, sort of like a small briefcase.

The box had two paddle things inside. I'd seen them on TV before in hospital shows like everyone else, but never in person, much less in use. One man placed the sticky pads on as Mr. Guthrie moved out of the way. The man with the paddles stated, "Everyone Clear. Clear," before sticking the paddles to the pads. Mr. Kirk's body spasmed as electricity shot through his body. They repeated this ten times before the man with the paddles began to shake his head when the others looked up at him. Mr. Guthrie hung his head, a large sigh escaping him. This entire time, I had sat, mutely watching. Maybe this is what shock feels like.

A few more sheriffs' cars pulled up. The first man to get out of his ran over, his feet bringing him to a sudden stop when he saw the EMT packing up his paddles. Mr. Guthrie shook his head as he walked past the man, going back toward his truck. The deputy's mouth hanged opened as he stared down at Mr. Kirk.

"Come on kid, let's get you somewhere else." Said the man who had placed the stickers on Mr. Kirk. I looked down at Mr. Kirk's bare chest. In all the confusion, I never noticed someone cut his shirt open. It was covered one minute and bare the next. 

"But Mr. Kirk-"

"I don't think he'll mind. Come on."

He led me to the back of the ambulance, where he had me sit down on the edge after he opened the doors. He got me to take a few breaths of oxygen to calm me down. Time seemed to pass in a fog like way, coming and going without really noticing. At some point, he cleaned the blood off my hands. I sat quietly as he checked me over.

A deputy came up and took a statement from me. Once he heard that I hadn't witnessed the shooting, the rest was really quick. I had no information he couldn't gleam from just looking at the body. The body. Dear god, I'd watched a man die. I knew him, his family, everything. They lived just a few miles away from me. My mom's going to freak. My mom!

"Sir, I need to go home. My mother's going to be worried sick."

The deputy looked to an older deputy before nodding.

"We have your address and phone number should we need to talk to you about anything else."

"Thank you for your efforts young man." The older deputy said. "You at least gave him a fighting chance at making it. I'm sure his family will appreciate it." He patted my shoulder and led me to my truck with a gentle ease about him. His comment really made me feel like shit. His family probably didn't even know yet. How weird is it to know someone is dead while his family sleeps in their beds thinking everything is fine, they're biggest worry being tomorrow.

"You're not driving home like this kid. Wait here a minute."

"I can drive."

"No you can't."

He walked away, coming back with a really young deputy with black hair and a kind face.

"Give me your keys son." Said the older deputy. His name plate said Winchell. I'd never met him before, though this was a large county. He could've lived on the northern side.

He hopped in the driver side of my worn bench seat. The younger deputy followed in a cruiser. It was extremely weird to be in the passenger side of my truck for a change. This side of the seat seemed higher up than the other, almost as if it had leaned a small amount.

The door to the house opened just after headlights flashed over it. My mother came running out in her night clothes. She crushed me in a hug before she held me at arms distance. Her eyes scanned Deputy Winchell.

"Ethan Doyle, what in god's name did you do." Her voice was like acid, promising I'd regret the crime she thought I'd committed.

"Ma'am, this ain't what it seems, I promise. Honestly, I wish it were." He cleared his throat. "You should be very proud Ma'am. Your son stopped to help a deputy who had been shot. Unfortunately, he passed away."

"Oh my god!" She gasped, then hugged me again even tighter than before.

"Who was it?"

"While normally we wouldn't say, I'm sure your son would inform you after I left. Deputy Marshall Kirk died after a brave effort by your son. We ask that you not contact the family until we've had a chance to do so, or any media for that matter."

"That won't be a problem officer. My god, I can't believe this. Thank you so much for bringing Ethan home."

"It won't a problem Ma'am. Thank you Ethan. You did what you could."

I could only nod. Thanks seemed useless when I knew I had failed. Winchell and the young deputy left in their car while my mother led me inside. She sat me down at the kitchen table with a glass of Diet Pepsi.

"Do you want to talk about it sweety?"

I shook my head 'no.'

She kissed my forehead as she walked past to her bedroom, the door closing behind her. She was good in knowing when I needed to just think. It had been me and her since my dad walked out. He sends alimony checks from across the country which keep us living comfortably along with my mother's salary. She's an accountant. She works with numbers. The only number in my head was the number three.

If I had sped down the road instead of crawling maybe he'd be alive. Maybe I'd have seen the shooter or his car. The police would have a lot more to work with. I'd cost a man his life, his family a father and a husband.

Water burned my skin as I scrubbed, trying hard to get off every last trace of blood. Red still stained them no matter how hard I clawed at my hands. The image wouldn't go away. Blood seeping through my fingers. I slung the curtain open as I stepped out, the skin on my hands raw. Brushing, rinsing, it all seemed unimportant. My eyes stayed open, even as I lay in bed. I couldn't believe what had happened. It was all shit.

Nightmares. Every night. Every night since Wednesday had been full of nightmares. They wouldn't go away. I didn't go to school Thursday. The funeral was on Sunday, after the medical examiner had finished with the body. I didn't go. Couldn't. It would've been too much to see his face again, up close. The sight of a grieving mother with two sons would've surely sent me looking for a tall bridge with rocks at the bottom.

Richey wasn't at school for two more weeks. Everyone talked about the incident. Everyone called me a hero, even though I hadn't done anything. Everyone wanted to ask questions. I wanted to scream, run away someplace where it was quiet. The news was all people could talk about. A cop hadn't died in the line of duty in nearly two decades, and that had been from a heart attack. I can still remember the news report two days after.

"Local Kynworth County Deputy Sherriff Marshall C. Kirk was shot and killed Wednesday night when a gunmen opened fire." Said Anne Cox, our local news anchor. "Deputy Kirk had pulled over a green, 80's model Toyota Camry when police say the driver shot Deputy Kirk three times with a 38. Special revolver when Kirk approached the driver's window. Kirk apparently had no warning this was going to happen as, according to the Kynworth County Sheriff's Department, Deputy Kirk hadn't drawn his weapon. Dash cam footage also reveals the gruesome and sudden nature of this cowardly attack. Viewer discretion is advised." I had turned it off before the video played. My mother later told me that I had been mentioned in the broadcast, though how they got my name and picture, I'll never know.

When Richey returned, the people were distant. Before the incident, students only approached Richey to give him some level of shit. This went on for no more than a week. It was like these jerks had decided in their own minds that Richey was Richey and his dad was his dad. The two were separate, therefore not connected. They had no conscious about picking on someone who just had his father ripped away by some jackass with a gun. They picked on him because of his soft voice, his thin build, or his blonde spiky hair, though he hadn't bothered gelling it since. They called him faggot, queen, or any number of other loads of shit simply because they always had. Why should they stop? I'd been asked this the one time I'd asked one of my football buddies why they did this. According to him, his dad dying didn't make the queen a saint, same as it didn't change the color of the moon.

I heard them. Quiet at first. Just piss Ethan, just piss and leave. Simple. You've done it a million times before. Another sniffle. I could see his Converses beneath the stall walls. Christ alive. My boots made soft thuds as I slowly approached the door. I knocked once. A clatter arose with his hasty attempt to stand, the metal of the toilet paper dispenser being hit at some point. The lock clicked, the door slowly opening to reveal a red eyed Richey, the blue seeming out of place.

"You okay?" I felt stupid even as I said it.

He glared at me.

"I'm fine. Why do you care?"

I looked down, as if the floor would provide an answer.

He marched by me to the sinks. His hands collected water to splash his face with. I talked while he did this.

"I'm sorry about your dad."

His hands stopped halfway to his face. The pause lasted a second before his hands opened to drop the water back in the sink, only fill them up again to splash some more.

Squeaking as it did, he twisted the knobs, turning the water off. His hands supported him on the sink as he stared down the drain.

"They told me what you did-"

"Don't thank me."

He turned around on me, anger in his eyes.

"What? Don't want the fag to talk to you?" He spat.

"It's not that." I hung my head for a moment, unsure how to phrase what I wanted to say. "I didn't do anything, least not anything that worked."

Anger instantly dissipated. His ass rested on the edge of the sink. He hung his head too.

"At least you tried."

"It wasn't enough."

"No it wasn't."

Silence hung thick in the air between us.

"I don't know how to say this. He, uh... he wanted me to tell you, well you and your mother- your brother too... shit." He looked up at me, confusion evident on his face. "Shit, I'm so sorry. I really don't know how to say this."

"So just spit it out already."

"He told me to tell you and your family that he loved you. Then he...well...you know the rest I'm sure."

A tear fell from his eye, followed by another, then another. I walked over to the paper towel dispenser. He took them from my hand while I muttered apologies. He thanked me and told me to shut up before I could interrupt again. Minutes passed. His tears eventually stopped. I took the paper, throwing it in the trash can.

"Thank you Ethan." He said quietly while walking around me, out the door. I stared into the mirror. Life was a bit shit.



Stumbling Ch. 02



"I can't believe the queen still bothers coming here. If I were him, I'd just stay home, milk this whole situation as much as possible."

I put my face in my hands as I leaned on the lunch table. Arthur could be a real shit. Then again, when you're the quarterback you tend to get away with a little more than most people. It's not like anyone at the table thought any different though. Part of me really wanted to ask if he would feel the same if his dad had been shot. Mr. Kirk had always been a prick to Arthur. It was a well-known fact around the football team. The older man had sometimes sat just down the road from the school to catch teenagers speeding home like someone had lit after them with a gun when in reality they just wanted to see how fast their piece of shit, chunks of metal on wheels, could go. Some way, somehow, Mr. Kirk had managed to pull Arthur Campbell over more than most. Maybe Arthur speeds too much. Maybe Mr. Kirk didn't appreciate how Arthur treated his son. Most likely, it was a little of column A, little of column B. Either way, Arthur hadn't gotten a ticket since Mr. Kirk's passing.

I got up from the table without finishing my food. Hadn't touched it really. Some voices called after me. I just pretended I didn't hear them. Someone would either grab my tray and put it up or the cafeteria staff would. Wouldn't hurt to leave it just once. It's not like I do that all the time. Normally, if a student just walked out the cafeteria there'd be hell to pay if a faculty member noticed. Students were only allowed to leave if they told someone where they were going and it was approved. Lucky me, the only teachers at the faculty table were Mr. Howard and Mrs. Hynoski, both of whom could stand to give a shit. Mr. Howard taught music. He once told a student to play with himself if he didn't want to play the triangle, though he denied it to the administration. Mrs. Hynoski was famous for giving assignments in geography, then taking a nap at her desk. The only reason they were still around was tenure. Schools don't fire people four years away from retirement unless absolutely necessary. Nothing like a lawsuit to make one cautious.

The second I opened the library doors, Mrs. Turner looked up from the computer behind her desk to glare at me.

"Mr. Doyle, to what do we owe the honor? Perhaps a fire in the gym?"

"No ma'am. Just figured I'd read to kill some time."

She eyed me curiously. A nod then, "Very well. First disruption from you and I'll send you to the principal's office, understood?"

"Yes ma'am."

Mrs. Turner was always lenient if you were honest and didn't push her buttons. 

A table in the back corner of the long room was free. I grabbed a picture encyclopedia on cats as I passed by a shelf I knew fairly well. All the others had long words without pictures. This was the only shelf with long words AND pictures, so it worked for me. Last time I was here I looked at dogs. Cats seemed a fair change up.

The window was cold against my shoulder. I reclined in my seat with my ankle over my knee, the book propped up on my thigh. I didn't even bother reading species names as I turned, unlike with dogs. I can't tell one cat from another unless is something obvious like a Siamese or the bald one. Voices started to reach my ears from the table to my left. I glanced over.

Richey sat next to some junior, books spread out in front of them. Currently, they sat back in their chairs, laughing like old friends. Richey looked happy. I'm not sure I'd ever seen him smile unless it was in a school photo. Chess club photos aside, this looked different. The smile actually reached his eyes for a change. That expression always seemed like bullshit. The difference was evident here. The thought trampled across my mind though, wondering if they were lovers. The junior didn't look fruity or anything. In fact, I recognized him from the basketball squad. Larsen, I think his name was.

This interested me. Yes, a senior has more pull than a junior usually, but Richey ain't the normal senior and Larsen or whoever the fuck was a jock. The phrase, "Never the twain shall meet," comes to mind. Richey held up a flash card in Larsen's face. Larsen's face contorted in thought before I heard him say, "The War of 1812."

"Correct, way to go." Said Richey.

"Yes!" Larsen threw his hands up in an exaggerated manner.

"Mr. Nichols!" Came from the front. Suppose Larsen was really Nichols.

"Sorry Mrs. Turner!" he called back.

"Calm down Lars." Richey said through giggles. Guess I was right. What kind of first name is Larsen? "It's just one question. You do that in class and people are going to cross the street to get away from you."

"Sorry Richey, it's just this is the first time this kind of stuff has ever stuck."

"I didn't do anything special, you're just paying attention for a change. That, and I'm sure Ms. Barton has probably lit a fire under your ass."

Larsen ducked his head, blushing a little. "I had a D the first six weeks. She and coach both are liable to kill me if it happens again."

The bell rung, breaking up their tutoring session and my people watching. I looked down to say goodbye to the cats. A strange pattern in the fur of a tabby caught my eye just before I closed it.

"I never took you for a kitten kind of guy."

I closed my book, setting it down on the table with a thud as I stood up.

"What's sexier than a man with a kitten?"

He chuckled, "Quite." His eyes ran up and down my frame. I stared a whole through the back of his head as he walked away, somewhat shocked. I'd never been flirted with by a guy before. But that wasn't flirting, was it? No. Couldn't be. He was just pulling my chain. Ok, that was a bad analogy. Still, all guys fuck around like that, it's nothing to get hung up on. He just-

"Mr. Doyle, another two minutes and you'll be late to whoever is unfortunate enough to have what's left of your attention next."

"Thanks Mrs. Turner!" I started a light jog.

"The book goes on the shelf Mr. Doyle." I hadn't made it two steps.

"Yes ma'am!" I spun around to retrieve the book, placing it on the shelf as I ran by it.

"Try to stay out of trouble Mr. Doyle."

I don't know why she doesn't like me. I swear.

I half ran, half walked, down the hall to get to Mr. Sumner's U.S. History class. If I ran, some faculty member was sure to write me up for it, yet if I was late so I would've gotten sent up for that too. That's what we call a catch twenty two. Because of this, I look like I'm trying to run with a rock in my boot. Or maybe a bullet hole. Shit Ethan, not now. Now is not a good time.

There was only one seat open when I arrived. Next to Richey friggin Kirk. If there was ever a person mixed with a time with whom I didn't want to have a break down in front of, it was him mixed with now shaken up like the worlds shittiest martini. Sweat started to break out of my forehead, my hands were clammy. I remembered all the breathing techniques I'd learned in weightlifting to knock my heart rate down during the cool down exercises. They didn't work. Not this time. I hadn't been in the class for more than five minutes. If I asked to go to the bathroom, Mr. Sumner would've just told me I should've gone before class started.

Everyone knows that feeling when they know they're being watched. I could feel it, coming from the left. A quick glance showed Richey looking at me quite peculiarly. He looked like he wanted to ask a question. Fuck it.

"Mr. Sumner, I'll be back." I said as I stood up.

"And just where are you going?" He stood with his hand on his hip, the other holding the chalk against the board.

"Sick." Was all I said as I walked by. He must've bought it as he didn't try to stop me.

I ran the fifty or so feet from Sumner's room to the nearest restroom. Now that I was in here, I genuinely felt like I was going to actually be sick. My stomach tightened around my half eaten lunch, my hands gripped tight on the sink. "Breath, just breathe. It's not that fucking hard Doyle..." I mumbled to myself. The sink came on with the same squeal as it had weeks ago when Richey had been in my position. Cold water washed over my face as I splashed it over my face every time my hands filled up.

Bit by bit, my heart slowed itself back to something resembling normal. The mirror almost seemed to mock me with what it showed. My hazel eyes were rimmed with nothing but red with the white barely showing. The fauxhawk was no more, the gel sweated out of it, nothing more than a darker brown with the sweat hanging limply on my head. The light blue of my t-shirt was a lot darker all over. I pulled it off, feeling the weight of it. Soaked. God, I just wanted to go home.

Figuring I had enough evidence to get the nurse to send me home, I walked to the nurse's office. Mrs. Hale took one look at me before jumping out her chair to run around her desk and lead me over to the government issue cot in the corner. She called my mother to tell her I was sick, unfit to stay at school. She asked if I was okay to drive, which I obviously answered yes, before relaying that to my mother.

"You just sit tight young man. I'll have someone collect your books. Do you need anything from your locker? Never mind, I just have whoever they send go with you."

She didn't even give me a chance to speak as she walked out the door. My shirt sat in my lap, while I sat in nothing more than my tank top from the waist up. A bit of warm air blew across me from a vent somewhere in the room. Looking for it amused me for a minute. The door opening brought me out of my search.

Mrs. Hale dragged Richey by the shoulder.

"Well Ethan, Richey has been nice enough to help you gather your stuff up and get you out of here." Mrs. Hale is one of the people too cheery for her own good. She pulled me up from my cot even though I was already in the process of standing up. Lord knows if I started to go, she wasn't going to be able to catch me. "You go have a nice rest young man, lots of fluids."

Richey lead me out the door, Mrs. Hale closed it behind us. She got paid to take temperatures and call home, that's it.

"She's a little high strung." He said.

"It's not polite to state the obvious."

He chuckled quietly. I noticed him glance at me from time to time. I guess I was a sight. Not many can get away with walking down the hall with nothing but a tank top. The books I had with me in Sumner's class were tucked under his arm. When we got to my locker, I reached out for them after it opened. Our fingers touched slightly. He jerked back, the books going straight to the floor.

"Sorry!"

"I'll get them." I said, kneeling down. I grabbed each book with my left hand, using the right to place them in the bottom of the locker. Richey's crotch was in the corner of my vision. I checked his package like I do any other guy. My eyes stuttered, if that's even possible, at the sight of a semi clearly growing in the front of Richey's tight, not quite skinny, jeans. Immedieatly, my head turned towards my locker. I pretended for a few seconds to look for something, shuffling a few papers around. When I stood up, Richey was trying to look anywhere but my direction. Whether he'd seen me see... well HIM was unclear. I packed my backpack quietly. The scene was so awkward I almost expected him to ask about the weather.

My backpack shouldered, I placed a hand on his shoulder. It just struck me that he's taller than me. Being short is a real pisser.

"Thanks for collecting my shit Richey."

He looked surprised slightly. "It's not like any of your friends were jumping up to help."

"They're not really friends as much as assholes on the same team as me. To be honest I feel like the black sheep most days." Why am I telling him this?

"Welcome to my world muscle boy." He smirked.

"Muscle boy?" I was a little indignant.

He slowly stuck a hand out to poke-push me in my left pec, just left of the tank top strap.

"I'm more than just a pretty face you know."

"You're assuming your pretty."

"Hey, I've got brains too. I don't even need half these looks."

"You're still assuming." He still had that dumb smirk on his face, his eyes were half closed. There was no reason to be sleepy.

"You act like I'm an asshole, know nothing jock."

"Lay down with dogs, you'll come up with flees."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I stood up straighter, a little angrier than before.

"Calm down super boy. You just said they're not really your friends. You should be able to admit they're a bunch of assholes. In fact... you're the first football player to talk to me in something other than insults." He seemed to be thinking about what he'd just said.

"Well-"

"Listen Eeth," He said it like someone had started to say teeth but left the 't' off. "If you're having mercy on the fag out of pity for his dead dad than save it. I don't need it."

"What!?" I couldn't believe he would think that. "Listen here. Now you're being an asshole."

He started to interrupt.

"Quiet. You've accused me of some serious shit here. You tell me one time I ever picked on you and I'll gladly own up to it. Come on! Give me one, just one."

He stared impassively back.

"That's right, you cant. Wanna know why? I've never joined in on that shit, that's why." 

His face was inches away from mine, separated more by height than the distance between our feet. My finger poked him a couple times in his chest, same as he'd done to me, throughout my tirade. 

The stare down continued for a moment longer.

"I apologize your highness. It does strike me funny though that someone as selfless as you claim to be would just stand back and do nothing while your supposed friends do their best to shit on every moment of semi happiness which passes me by."

I stomped my foot down, doing my best to throw smoke in the air on my way to the parking lot. He let out a sigh.

"Ethan, wait-"

"Save it."

God damn him all to hell. I didn't even do anything. According to him that's my biggest problem. Fuck him. What does he know? A hand grabbed my shoulder, turning, pushing me up against the lockers.

"I'm trying to say sorry jackass."

"Who said I wanted to hear it?"

He looked to the side, his hand remained. His throat bobbed as he swallowed. When his head turned, his eyes sought out mine.

"Look... I saw you in class. Are you okay?"

"What are you talking about? I'm under the weather a bit, that's all."

"You ain't at t'all convincing. That was a panic attack if I ever saw one."

"And just what qualifies you Dr. Kirk?"

"I get them from time to time." He said quietly

"I'm fine Kirk." He stared at me still. "I promise."

His hand fell to his side. He shook his head as he turned back towards the classroom we'd long since forgotten.

"Take care Doyle. Get well soon and all the other generic shit..."

I chuckled at that.

"Thanks Kirk." Once last look over his shoulder and he didn't look back again, least not in the time it took for me to turn the opposite way.

When I got home, my body felt sore all over. No, weak is a better word. Sort of like when I hadn't eaten enough. I thought about a sandwich, decided against it. Wasn't really hungry. My head hurt. I popped three fifteen hundred milligram knock off Tylenols, then left a note for my mom. Told her I was resting and to let me sleep. She didn't get home till late anyway. It was tax season. I could do what I wanted till then.

I watched TV until eight. It'd been a while since I'd last had a long soak in the tub, so I did that next. The water was too hot when I got in. To hell with it. I sucked it up, figuring it would cool down soon. Steam. Lots of steam, rising, drifting, carrying away all my troubles for the moment. Here I could relax. Put out everything I don't need. I stayed for an hour. When my skin looked like a raisin and the water was lukewarm at best.

I stood in my room facing the bed. No matter how I tried, the only way I'd gotten more than a couple hours sleep was with the help of Mr. Nyquil. On the plus side, I'd never breathed better. Tonight was no different. Two big swallows while I was in the kitchen. It tasted like the nuclear waste it was colored after. Still, it did the trick. Nothing else mattered.



Stumbling Ch. 03



The same shit tonight as the night before. Three shots, lots of blood. Mr. Kirk's face was burned in my head. He'd talk to me occasionally. Call me a piece of shit. Tell me I should suffer for what'd I'd done, or rather hadn't done. Said his son was going to wind up the same as him if I just stood by. That much was different than normal. I suppose last week's encounter with Richey had some influence over that. Dead people should stay dead.

Even awake, thoughts from last night, before even, continued to pound through my head. I stumbled into the kitchen, searching through the cupboard my mother kept the pills. She was at work already. Gotta love tax season. I found a prescription for OxyContin I'd been given a little while back when my left had been broke in a practice last summer. I hadn't taken but two of the pills, figuring I didn't need them. Thirteen were left in the bottle. I popped one, sliding another in my pocket. A wonderful numb feeling overtook me a few minutes later. My mind started to settle down some. My cereal was bland tasting. I toyed with the circles floating in the bowl while I stared through the milk jug. A vibration went down my leg. I looked through my phone to see a text my mother sent me about the police running radar. I shut it went on my way out the door.

The engine roared to life with a quick turn of the key. For some reason, the engine idled really loud. It settled down some going down the road, there was just something about being turned on in park it didn't like. I stared at the letters for the gears in the dashboard. The P had a smudge of grease over it. I wiped it off with my thumb.

It was early. Earlier than what was needed, technically. I turned left out the driveway, just as I had for the past little while. My mind made fun of me for going the long way. I added an extra mile, give or take, to go this way. I didn't particularly care for the other way anymore.

The parking lot was mostly empty in the student section. I saw a couple of cars which I knew belonged to some of my fellow students who tutored other kids before school started. Mr. Kirk's, now Richey's, old Dodge pickup sat near the middle of the lot in front of a telephone pole. Sitting in mine, I looked over into the cab of the truck. The interior was a rust red, which the 80's were famous for. Mine was the same color. The black paint chipped here and there where it wasn't covered in mud or dust. The Kirks lived in a fair sized house down a short dirt road. Chrome glistened somewhat in the early morning sun. 'A thousand miles from nowhere' by Dwight Yoakam played through my speakers.

Gathering myself. That's all I'm doing. Normal people do this all the time. Here we go. Just eight hours to go. That's-

Three quick taps on the window startled me out of my reverie. I leapt up in the bench seat, my nuts hitting the steering wheel.

"Oh Fuck!" I cried and curled up like a salad bar shrimp, my head falling to rest on the passenger's side. The door opened behind me.

"Nice ass Doyle."

"Fuck off Kirk."

"You ok? That looked mighty painful." He rested a hand on my side to peer over at my face.

"I'm fine."

"You say that a lot." He grabbed my shoulder to pull me upright again.

"Should I take that as a compliment?" He pointed down to where my hands gently massaged the boys.

"Ha, ha, ha. Look who's mister funny man. That hurt like a mother."

"That's what you get for being easily excitable. Why do you drive with the wheel so low anyway?"

"I don't like to reach up to drive."

"You may be the laziest person I know, you know that?"

"Fuck-"

"Fuck me, I know. Come on ya big baby. It's almost eight."

I stood up out of the truck, not before turning around to grab my backpack.

"If you keep rubbing your dick, I'm gonna take it as a come on."

I hadn't realized I was still doing it. I blew him a kiss.

"Keep it up muscle boy." He laughed like he laughed with Larsen.

We parted ways at the front door, him to his world, me to mine.

Same shit, different day. It gets tiresome after a while.

"Why don't you just put yourself out of our misery fag?"

Arthur was in rare form today. That had been the most recent of several verbal jabs shouted towards the back of Richey's head. Even worse, Arthur was sitting right next to me. Richey was at the next table over. He should've stayed in the library. The jock table sits the furthest from the faculty table, a fact which was causing much lament in my stomach this very moment.

"Are you deaf and gay? That must be a real bitch."

Of course, everyone at the table laughed it up, chuckle fucks that they were. I stared at my food. Arthur's hand grabbed at an apple on Shirley Thompson's tray.

"I'm talking to you fairy!" Richey finally turned around.

When Arthur's hand pulled back to throw, I reached up and grabbed it before it left his grasp. It looked like the world's dumbest high five. Arthur, along with everyone else who'd seen it, had a look on their face like they'd just seen the pope shit.

"Cut that shit out." I said. "Some of us would like to eat without going death in one ear, specifically the one facing you." Once more I stood up and waltzed out the cafeteria. Every eye which had seen the altercation was burning the back of my head.

I headed for the same bathroom I'd been in after my meltdown. It was the closest to Mr. Sumner's. I could just chill till the bell then take a short little walk down the hall. I dug in my pocket for an OxyContin. I was nearly out. My efforts to make my supply last could be set aside for the moment. Arthur's being his normal, dickhead self had sent my mind running. I put the pill on my tongue. My hands filled with water to chase it down. Much better.

"What the fuck did you just take?" Came an angry voice from behind.

I looked up in the mirror to see Richey staring back at me. When I spun around to see him eye to eye, he looked even more pissed.

"What are you doing here?"

"I followed you after your little scene, now what did you take?"

"Scene? I don't make scenes. You should be happy! I stopped you from getting hit in the face."

"You're avoiding the question." He stalked over to stand toe to toe with me in three long strides. Damn tall people.

"I just had a headache."

"Bullshit!" He said.

"How dare you-"

"Ethan, your eyes are dilated. Since you just took whatever that was, I know for a fact something else was already in your system, now what was it." I started to say something, anything. "Don't you even think about lying to me." He stared right into my eyes, his bright blues shining in fury.

"It was just OxyContin."

His eyes bulged, eyebrows shooting up.

"Just OxyContin! Just OXY- you stupid little shit, that stuff can kill you!"

"I've done this before, okay? So just chill out."

"You're not making me feel better. How many times before?" He demanded.

"For the past week or so..." I mumbled. He made me feel like a little child.

A hand shot up to rub the bridge of his nose. He began pacing the room.

"Why are you taking OxyContin?"

"It calms me down, helps me sleep."

He looked positively scandalized at that.

"Calms- you idiot! What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"It's no big deal, I swear. The bottle runs out tomorrow or the day after."

"It runs out tonight Ethan. Do you hear me? This ain't a god damn game jackass. You screw up and that's it. You don't get a do over."

"I know, I know-"

"Apparently not."

The bell went off over our heads. He looked up, then back at me.

"This ain't over Ethan."

"Look, I'm sorry okay? I just needed... something..."

"We'll talk about this later." He said in a much calmer tone than before.

Mr. Sumner's class proved to be eventful. We were asked to pair up to write a report on any aspect of U.S. History we wanted. It had to be ten pages long and we'd both present a summary three weeks from now. Everyone picked partners while Richey and I sat next to each other taking glances at the other. We were the only ones in the class who kept to themselves for the most part.

"Any ideas?" I asked.

"How's the 1972 Drug Act?"

"Jesus Christ on a crutch Richey, can we not do this here?" I whispered shouted at him.

"Mr. Doyle and Mr. Kirk, I'm assume you two are together?" Asked Mr. Sumner.

"Yes sir." We both answered, him a little more forcefully than I.

Everyone chatted in their pairs till the bell while Richey seemed determined not to talk to me. Throughout this time, I stewed silently wondering if Richey was going to tell anyone about what he now knew. A day or two at the most, he never would've known. You're really good at fucking yourself over Ethan. If they gave a gold medal for stupidity, I'd be a shoe in.

We walked from Sumner's to the parking lot, quiet still. He didn't speak until we got to his truck.

"You lead the way." He said.

"To where?"

"Your house of course."

"What are we going there for?"

"To fuck."

"What!?!?" I asked in shock.

"We have a conversation to finish as well as a project to work on. So get in and lead us back to yours."

I didn't answer, figuring my actions would be consent enough. His face was easily seen in the rear-view the entire way. Confusion was plain to see when I turned left on Johnson's Mill Road, two turns before we would've turned right on county road 734. He followed none the less. When we pulled in my driveway, he immediately walked up to me.

"Why did we go around our elbow to get to our ass?"

"I like the scenic route."

"Don't you think we have more important things to do than see the same trees we've seen all our lives?"

"Didn't you already know where I lived? You could've gone the short way."

"You could stop trying to stall. Inside." He walked ahead of me to the door. I felt his breath on the side of my face while I unlocked the door. It was warm, though it also told how annoyed he was with me.

He walked over to the small kitchen table after throwing his bag on the counter. He pulled a chair out and indicated for me to sit, which I did.

"Want anything to drink?"

"Is this my house or yours?"

"Either answer or be thirsty."

"There's a Diet Pepsi can drawer in the bottom, next to the potatoes. Get anything you want while you're at it."

When he opened the door he bent down to slide the drawer at the bottom opened. Not before he looked all over the top shelves.

"You have a drawer dedicated to Diet Pepsis. I didn't think you were actually serious."

"They're my favorite." I mumbled.

His head shook as he sat a can down in front of me. He had one as well. The whoosh sounded through the house one after another as we both popped a top. I sorta wished this was a beer.

"I've never had one of these." He said then took a sip. "Not bad."

"You here to talk about soda?"

"We're here to talk about why you're taking a heavy duty painkiller at 1:30 on a Friday in the middle of school."

"It's not that big a deal."

"Let's quit trying to minimize the reality of the situation, shall we?"

"Can you stop talking to me like I'm a child!?" I yelled.

He tucked his chin, his eyebrows raising then lowering.

"Fine. I'm sorry. It's just you don't seem to realize how bad this is. Is this the only drug you've been taking?"

"Off brand Tylenol and Nyquil to sleep, that's it."

"That's it." He mumbled, rubbing his eyes again. "Why? Please be honest."

"Look, since that night...I've had some problems, okay?"

He perked up in his seat, his eyes intent on me.

"What kind of problems?"

"Just some dreams. They wake me up sometimes."

"What counts as sometimes?"

"Every night..." I muttered.

"Jesus Eeth," Again with the pet name. "You need to see someone."

"I'm not going to a therapist Rich, no matter what you say."

He put his face in his hands. It seemed to be one of his go to moves when stressed.

"I see him, you know?"

"Do you now?"

"He just says it's my fault he's-"

Richey jumped out of his chair, marching around the table to lean over me, one hand in my face the other holding the arm of my chair.

"You stop that this instant. I heard from the guys who read the medical report, I talked to Mr. Guthrie myself. You did everything you knew to do. My dad wouldn't want you tearing yourself up over him." Tears started to trek down his face.

I grabbed his hips to swing him around as I stood up, sitting him in my place.

"Sshhhh..." I murmured. "It's alright Richey, I'm here okay? Everything is going to be alright."

"It's not your fault." He kept saying that over and over.

He looked up at me through tear filled eyes.

"We both know how Pa was. He had a gut on him. He didn't like wearing his vest. His supervisor said he had it sitting in the passenger seat the whole time." Every sentence was said between sobs.

I had never thought about that. Not once. It made me feel slightly better. That thought made me feel slightly worse. The man was dead, no matter if he should've worn it or not.

"Have they caught the guy?" I asked.

"No. they think it was someone from out of state, just passing through. Maybe a drug runner or something."

"I'm so sorry Richey."

"It's not your fault."

"Watching you take shit for years was my fault though. I never did anything to stop them, not even after your dad died. You could've killed yourself with all that shit and I was worried how'd it'd affect me."

"I'm fine Eeth."

"What's with the pet name?" I asked to distract him. Anything to get off this subject.

"It just came naturally I guess." He giggled a bit.

"Well it's fine by me. Now come on, I'll show you my room. We've got a project to work on after all."

We stood up straight next to each other, him towering a few inches over me. His hand grabbed my shoulder, eyes locked once more.

"Promise me you won't touch that shit anymore Ethan."

"I promise Rich." I said it as sincerely as I could.

He suddenly enveloped me in a tight hug.

"I'm not the only one handing out pet names it would seem."

"Couldn't help it. Everyone else calls you Richey. I like to be unique."

He chuckled. It vibrated throughout his body. I felt a slight stirring in the land down under. Chalking it up to a warm body and weeks without relief, I broke the hug.

"This way, we've got a project to work on."



Stumbling Ch. 04



In my room, we sat side by side with our backs against the headboard. He had his laptop on his lap, typing up an outline to our paper. We picked the Watergate Scandal to write our report on. We both found it interesting, as well as having a fair bit of prior knowledge going in. Several hours later, we took a break. Like boys of all ages are want to do, we shifted to life's more sensual pleasures.

"So, how is Mr. Muscles, the football jock, not dating anyone?"

He had his back propped up on the large wooden front of my four poster bed, which looked like a headboard for the foot of the bed. Nothing like passed down furniture. One arm was sprawled over the edge of the board while he used his left hand to twine a toothpick through his teeth. We had eaten some leftover chicken at one point. I rested on a mound of pillows against the headboard.

"Why do you keep calling me Mr. Muscles? I'm too slim. You seem to think I'm a linebacker."

"At least it's not a lineman."

"That much weight wouldn't work well with my height."

"No it wouldn't. The slim and trim thing works for you, but you've got more muscle than me. Thus, you are muscle boy to me. Too short to be muscle man." He laughed.

"Thanks for the confidence booster. Remind me never to ask you for a compliment."

"You still didn't answer my question."

"What question? Why am I single?"

He nodded, his hand motioning for me to continue.

"Well, Stacey Peterson and I broke up early into the summer break, as I'm sure you remember."

"I heard she gave you the clap." He smiled at this. Bastard.

"She most certainly did not! The only thing that bitch gave me was endless torment. She spread so many rumors about me that three-quarters of the ladies won't even talk to me anymore. The other quarter are in the band."

This seemed to intrigue him.

"What kind of rumors?" He leaned forward slightly, as well as pausing in his toothpick escapades.

"Well, for starters, she told them I was standoffish. Apparently, I didn't pay her enough attention."

"She is quite annoying. If you gave me a choice between soaking my balls in ice water for five minutes or being alone in a room with her for an hour, I'd be sitting in front of a heater after six minutes." We both laughed. Honestly, I hadn't had this much fun just talking to someone in a long time.

"I couldn't stand how self-centered she was. Hell, she still is. Everything with her is me, me, me with no room for anyone else. She would unload every little thing she went through that day onto me. At once. It was fucking intolerable. If I even tried to tell her how my day went, something that happened at practice or someone I talked to, she would just cut me off with 'That's nice honey.' And then keep talking about whatever she was on about."

Richey chuckled along, eyes holding mine.

"That's why you've been ostracized from the females?"

"She told them I'm gay too."

He started to choke, on air I presume, coughing several times. When he recovered he looked up at me in shock.

"I'm sorry, do what now?"

"She told everyone who would listen that I'm gay." I stated simply. "Apparently, wanting to take it slow and not fucking her when she practically begged me to on several occasions was a dead giveaway in her book."

"How long did ya'll date?"

"Six months." Worse six months of my life. I'd rather spray water on a hornet's nest than spend another day listening to her rant about her enemy's list. Cheerleaders are cutthroat. They hold grudges like the IRS. I once heard her tell me about some chick who had fucked her over in the fifth grade. The fifth grade! Something about an argument over whose makeup was better, back in that time period when girls had just started being allowed to wear it. Anyway, thanks to this moment of impudence on the other girl's part, Stacey blackballed her from the cheerleading squad three years later.

"Ethan, Ya there hoss?"

"Huh- Oh yeah, I'm fine. Where were we?"

"Something about you're gay because you didn't fuck Stacey Peterson."

"Yeah, enough of that. What about you?"

"You actually want to hear about my love life?"

"Seems only fair."

He stared at me for a moment, seemingly arriving at some conclusion.

"Fuck, you're serious about this. Okay. Just remember, you asked." He sat up straight while crossing his legs Indian style. "So this one time, at band camp-"

I threw a pillow at him.

"Shut up and tell me you asshole." We both laughed. He seemed to know when to break the tension.

"Well, I dated this guy from Woodrow High last year for a while."

I sat stunned for a moment. He kept talking for a sentence or so before looking at me with concern.

"You dated a guy?"

"Yeaaaah... I am gay. Maybe you forgot? I didn't think the head trauma stuff would affect you so early. Is football really that dangerous?"

"Shut up," I said between giggles. My face was no doubt bright red. "I thought those were just rumors."

He shrugged his shoulders. "People have called me gay, queer-boy, queen, and faggot since they found out what those words meant. When I found out what it meant, I didn't even know I was gay, I just knew those people were assholes." He looked in my eyes, as if to challenge me.

"You'll get no argument from me."

He visibly relaxed.

"I can't believe you didn't know." He shook his head as he muttered this.

I scratched my arm, unsure of what to say.

"It doesn't matter. You're a great dude, I'm cool. None of the rest matters."

His smile could've lit up a city. Part of him looked on the verge of tears while another looked happy beyond belief, the two emotions in a terf war on his face.

"Did your father know?"

"Who says father?"

"I do."

"Yeah, he knew. My mother," Said in a seriously shitty British accent, "Knows as well."

"How'd they take it?"

"How would yours?"

"Why does that matter?"

"It doesn't."

I thought about it for a moment. My mother had always been supportive of me, from peewee to career goals. She didn't talk very much about politics, nor did she force me to go to church with her. Our views on religion were very different. We once had a long talk about why I didn't want to go. I thought it would end with her demanding I still go. She listened to my points, made some counterarguments of her own, but left the decision in my hands once she had seen that I'd actually put some thought into my beliefs.

"If I came home one day and just said, 'Hey mom, I'm gay.' Over dinner, I'm sure she'd choke to death on whatever she had been eating. But, I think she would eventually come around. There'd probably be a long talk about why I felt that way, I'm sure."

He nodded along with what I said.

"The same went for mine. My mom exiled herself to the eastern wing of the house, A.K.A. their bedroom, while my dad seemed to stay at work for longer."

"That sounds horrible."

"Not really," He shook his head once, shrugging one shoulder. "It was better than being kicked out or told I was going to hell. We all sorta became roomates who didn't speak to each other, just lived in the same house. One day my dad came home early and asked how I was doing. I was just watching TV on the couch, so all I said was 'fine'. He walked over and patted me on the shoulder. Said, 'I love you son, no matter what.'" A tear rolled down one cheek, only to be angrily wiped away. "My mother took another month of my dad wearing her down before she would speak to me again. It started out slow. We're on good terms now."

"That's good to hear." I didn't know what else to say. Felt stupid saying that.

A door closed in the front of the house. The distinct sound of keys hitting the counter could be heard.

"Want to meet my mother?"

"On the first date? We're moving a little fast here, ain't we?"

"You'll be fine."

Laughter bubbled from both of us as we stood up of the bed to stretch. It'd been a while since we started. 

Mother was reading through our mail when we walked in the kitchen. I leaned on the bar while Richey stood behind me, to the right.

"Mother, this is Richey. He's a friend of mine from school."

"We're working on a project together." He said.

"Nice to meet you dear." She said without looking up from the mail. A couple of pieces of junk mail got torn up to be tossed in the trash can. She called out behind her as she walked to the fridge. "Do you boys want anything to eat? I've got eggs, some sandwich meat, a few-" She looked out from behind the door to Richey's face.

"Oh! You're the Kirk boy. Honey come here." She raced over to hug Richey. "I'm so sorry. I know it's been a while now, but that doesn't make it any better. Here, you sit down." She pushed him into a chair at the kitchen table. "What kind of cake do you like dear? I've been meaning to make one."

"No you haven't-" I said.

"Quiet Ethan, and get out my flour bowl while you're at it."

"Yes ma'am." I crouched below the counter to fetch her massive flour bowl. I'd been through this before, so I gathered the confectionary sugar as well for her icing.

"I don't need a cake Mrs. Doyle."

"Everyone needs cake dear. And it's Ms. Sorvino since Mr. Doyle found his way to the door." My mother never missed an opportunity to shit on my dad. Who could really blame her? She walked over to the cupboard we keep the cake mixes in. "We have yellow, marble, spice, German chocolate, devil's chocolate, and a strawberry bread mix. You have the choice between chocolate and vanilla icing." She leafed through the mix boxes on the shelf as if they were books in a library.

Richey met my eyes, silently pleading for help. He turned to answer my mother, confusion still marred on his face.

"Strawberry with vanilla sounds delicious ma'am."

Her hand grasped the strawberry mix box the second the syllable 'straw' left his mouth.

"Excellent choice. Get the eggs out Ethan."

"I'll get them." Richey jumped out of his chair to help.

"You sit down son, you're a guest."

"And a good guest is a helpful guest. Please, I don't want to sit watching ya'll do all the work."

"Mule meets wall." I said from my position behind her.

She turned around looking scandalized.

"What did you say?"

"He's stubborn as a mule while you're a wall that won't budge."

A short chuckle later, she turned to face Richey. "Very well dear, you can help Ethan with the icing when the time comes. You boys go find something to occupy yourselves with while it bakes. I'll call you when the timer's down to ten minutes. That should give you plenty of time."

"That'll work." I said.

"Yes ma'am." He said at nearly the same time.

"Run along."

I plopped down on my bed once more.

"Your mom seemed out of it when she first walked in."

"Yeah, she works a lot, especially this time of year."

"When she saw me though it's like she instantly got a shot of coffee."

"She likes you."

"She doesn't know me."

"She knows enough and she knew your father."

A finger reached over to poke me in the ribs. "You really have to quit being so formal with your words."

I fainted to one side with right hand before ticking the other with my left. He practically squealed.

"How's take this bitch, for informal?"

"STOP!" He said between shrieks of laughter.

"Never!"

He rolled over on his stomach to get away. My fingers simply reached around, prying between him and the mattress to make him squirm. Suddenly, he thought of a new tactic. A pillow was grabbed up and bear hugged, making it where I couldn't get to his stomach. Not to be deterred, I wrapped around his back, my eyes just barely seeing over his shoulders. My legs clenched around him while my arms took the pillow and chucked it across the room. With his protection gone, I slid my fingers over the fine hairs of his belly underneath his shirt while one arm kept his arms pinned.

"You evil bastard! Let me go!" He cried through more fits of hysteria.

"Not until you admit I look better."

"Fine, you're gorgeous! Just let me go, please!"

"Now tell me I'm smarter."

"What? I'm not- AAAHHH!!!" I renewed my efforts with zeal.

"Say it!"

"It would be a lie!"

He tried some sort of drunken scissor kick looking move, which did nothing more than bring us into a sitting position. He tried escaping again, this time by twisting. All this managed to do was give me a position where my legs could hold his while I threaded an arm between his back and both of his arms, rendering them useless as well. I paused to use one finger to lightly scratch the underside of his chin.

"Now. Who is the smarted and the prettiest?"

His eyes found mine as his breath came in pants. For some reason, my temperature went up despite the pause in our impromptu wrestling. Oh shit. I could feel the beginnings of a hard on. My usual tactic would be to think of dead puppies, anything to make this go away. This time, all I could think about was his warm breath washing over my face, smelling faintly of mint. His blue eyes were mostly pupil. I'd never seen a look of hunger so evident in someone's eyes before. Some hitherto unknown part of my brain began screaming, chanting, "Do it, do it. Don't be a coward. DO IT!"

"BOYS! Icing time!"

I broke apart from him like he'd zapped me with a Taser. He sat up on his elbows with his legs stretched out, trying in vain to control his breathing. I looked down to see he was rock solid. It struck me strange that I was of the same affair. Shit, this ain't good.

"That was..." He started only to drift off.

"Different." I finished.

"Bad different or good different?"

"I'm- I'm not sure..."

"BOYS!"

"We'll talk later." He gulped and nodded when I said this. I smoothed a hand over his shoulder. "Rich, I'm not mad okay? Come on." He nodded again as he always did when he was speechless, too nervous to talk. Neither of us said anything as we readjusted our packages. We walked mutely back into the kitchen.

"You crack the eggs while I measure out the sugar."

He followed orders without saying a word, still looking hyped up. His eyes darted here, there, and everywhere as if watching for someone to jump out from the shadows. I bumped his hip with mine causing him to jostle an egg in the air, just barely saving it. He stared at me.

"Lighten up. Try breathing." He huffed at this.

We got all the ingredients in a bowl. I showed him how to stir the icing so most of the sugar turned to icing rather than being left stuck to the sides of the bowl. My mother came over to take the two cake tiers out the oven.

We watched TV while she read a magazine, waiting for the bread to cool so the icing wouldn't just melt off. Richey seemed to switch his gaze between the TV and myself. He looked sheepish, like he was waiting for me to snap.

I don't know why I didn't. Maybe it's because of our history. You can't very well hit someone whose dad you watched die. Sheesh. Not a good line of thought. That can't be it though. No. The reality is, I'm not freaking because I felt it too. I'd seen the shine in his eyes, how he wanted me just as much as part of me wanted him. Thinking back over my four girlfriends, I can't say any of them ever looked at me like that, like they wanted to find a way to watch me forever while doing so many other things at the same time. He salivated like he wanted to spend eternity tasting every inch of my skin. Again, part of me wanted that too.

But, how large a part?

I stood to go put the icing on. Richey followed like a puppy, even though I didn't expect him too. I iced up the first tier, as that took more of an idea how much icing to use, otherwise there wouldn't be enough left for the second layer. He took the plastic icing spatula to begin frosting up the rest after I put the top tier on. 

"I'm going to bed boys."

"You don't want any cake?" I asked, briefly looking up from Richey's hand moving the spatula, following each movement as if a string were attached to my head.

"I have to be in early, same as every day this time of year. Besides, it's not good for my figure to eat that stuff this late."

"Wouldn't want that, now would we?" I mocked.

"Quiet you," She admonished. "I brought you in this world. Mess with me, and I'll take you out of it."

"Goodnight Ms. Sorvino. Thanks for making the cake."

"You're welcome honey. Ya'll have a nice night."

"Goodnight." We both called, then looking at each other in surprise.

"Cute." She said, walking off lightly laughing.

"What does that mean?" I asked.

"Not a clue." He looked to be barely holding back a grin.

"What?" I asked.

He raised a finger to wipe some icing off my cheek, a large dollop now on his finger. Instantly, yet slowly, he licked it off in the most obscene manner. My dick instantly started to plump up. At least one of us knew what they wanted for sure.

"Sweet." He said.

I cleared my throat.

"Right. I'll get a knife." I turned away to get a large, wide bread knife out the drawer beneath the microwave. When I stood over the cake to make the first incision, Richey stood behind me. An arm reached between my side and my extended arm to point two inches to the right of where I held the knife over the glistening white cake.

"Cut mine here." Was he purring? His voice sounded almost like a cat.

I nodded mutely as I made two slices, plopping them both down on two small saucers. My ass bumped into his crotch when I stepped back to get some forks. A decidedly hard object hit me just above the crack of my ass. Nothing was said, I just slid past him to get the forks, the feel of it sliding over my lower back causing me to become rock hard in seconds.

We walked back over to our former positions on the white, fake leather sofa. He may have sat in the same seat as before, but he was definitely closer. I watched him take his first bite, a little bit of white icing staining his plump lower lip while they slipped slowly over the end of the fork. I could feel my dick actively pumping pre-cum into my boxer briefs, straining tenaciously against its confines. This was a bit of a shock. I was never much of a leaker with my exes. 

"This is delicious." He moaned

I'd have to take his word for it. Not sure if I've ever eaten as fast as I did then. The cake barely had time to hit my tongue, much less register on a taste bud.

I sat watching him eat, while at the same time trying not to. My saucer trembled in my hand. He followed me over to the sink when he finished. I reached behind me to grab his saucer, setting it down on top of mine with a clink. I turned around to ask some meaningless question. Anything to break the silence. The chance however, was abruptly ripped away as his lips crushed against my own. We shared a brief kiss. Barely enough to taste the vanilla on his lips. I stared up into his eyes, unsure of what to say next. His hand reached behind my head as his lips descended once more.

The shock now gone, I actively pursued this newfound treasure. Kissing him was unlike any kiss I'd ever had with a girl. He was much more forceful while being soft at the same time. At times, he dominated. Others, I'd take over. The fingers of my left hand lightly scratched through the hair on the side of his head while the other pulled his hips closer to mine. Our hard-ons met with a shock.

"Oh fuck, that's great..." He moaned when we broke apart, his voice much lower than before.

"Don't stop then." I said.

Being a good boy who listens, he eagerly did as he was told. A wet, firm pressure pushed over the seam of my lips. The second time he did that, I got the hint and opened up. At first, our tongues lightly slid across one another in a calm hello. That all got shot to hell, for pretty soon we were really getting in to it. We wrapped around each other like spider monkeys while we did that opened mouth fish imitation kiss which makes you cringe thinking about it later. I didn't give a flying fuck in candyland though. He didn't seem to either. This went on for ten minutes or ten hours, who knows.




Stumbling Ch. 04



Eventually we broke apart, hands still clinging to one another as we stared into each other's eyes.

"I've wanted that for a while." He murmured, no more than an inch from my lips.

"That was intense."

"No kidding." He said. "Look, I've got to go home."

"Oh shit, what time is it?" I pulled back further to read the microwave clock. 10:15 stared back at me in dull green letters.

"I'll see you at school tomorrow right?" He asked. I could see the thinly veiled hope in his eyes mixed with doubt.

I pulled him down for another slow kiss. I broke apart from him only when I felt him relax a little.

"Don't forget we have a project to work on." I said.

"I don't think I've ever been so thankful for homework in all my life."

We walked to the door. It was that awkward moment where no one really knew what to say. What did this mean for us, where would it go?

"Look, Eeth-"

"Rich, we'll talk about it tomorrow evening okay? I'm not mad, nor am I going anywhere. What we just shared was great, unlike anything I've ever experienced. That said, I still need to think about what that means. Just give me tonight to sort my head. Good?"

"I can work with that." He smiled, an evil mischievous grin. "On one condition muscle boy."

"Oh? We're in a condition making position are we?

"Look who's a poet."

"And didn't know it."

"You're done." He said with finality.

"Ah, but babe..." I pouted.

He kissed me real quick, just barely a brush which served to only leave me wanting more.

"You made me forget my condition you little twit."

"Who you calling little?"

"Certainly not you, my more than adequately tall muscle boy."

"Get out of my house." I said while lightly shoving his chest. "Drive safe Richey."

"I will. Try not to think yourself in too many circles while I'm gone."

He got back into his dad's old truck, waving as he backed out the driveway. Part of me sank down from my high a bit. He had gone to the right. It still made me shiver to even think of that part of the county anymore.

I was a zombie going through my shower as well as my nightly absolutions. Thoughts of Richey spread through my head like dye over a shirt, covering the original till only the dye is noticeable. My aching erection bobbed up at me the entire time. Pre-cum made the head glisten before being washed away. I refused to wank even though I wanted to. Needed to is a better word. Control. What I needed was control. Confidence in the situation was also what I needed. Confidence in Richey.

What would this come to, I asked myself as I lay in the bed. His smell still lingered on my sheets. A chorus of the spices in his cologne mixed with the musky smell that can only be called Richey which served to make my dick leak once more. No, down boy. I felt certain that this could go a good direction if I just got out of the way and let happiness hit me, while a still reluctant part began spouting off the consequences.

"What will people think?" I asked aloud.

Ah, fuck 'em. Most of the assholes in that place didn't even give me the time of day anymore, more so since Stacey stirred the pot. Despite being on the football team, I was never Mr. Popular. Back up safeties don't get fawned over like Arthur fucking Campbell. In reality, I wouldn't lose any friends. It's hard to lose what you never had. 

For some reason, I'd always been a loner. When the guys talked about girls, I went off and did my own thing. Girls! Why hadn't I done anything with the girls? I'd dated four for Christ sakes! Never had I had the desire to just bend one of them over the couch and drill their ass till I shot cum out their mouth. Or vice versa with Richey. Oh fuck, that's another one. Could I take being on the receiving end? I may not be well versed in the rainbow side of life, but I think I know where Tab A is supposed to go in this situation. Just thinking about Richey sticking that hard pole I'd felt earlier up my ass sent my cock into convulsions, making me think I was about to cum free handed. Instead, pre-cum just dripped down the length as I looked down at it.

Holy shit. Had this been hiding around some dark corner my whole life? I always thought I'd stayed out of the shit shooting sessions with the other boys because I didn't like how they talked about the girls they wanted. What if I should've been salivating like them, but wasn't because they were going on about pussy and not dick, tits not pecs. How had I not seen this!

I smashed my head back on the pillow a few times, my eyelids growing heavy. I looked over to where I'd sat my phone. A quick check showed a text an hour ago, at 11:00, from Richey.

Richey: 'Sleep tight. Thinking of you.'

He'd sent a pic of him lying on his bed, shirtless, bright blue eyes shining in the camera flash. An angel would have had a hard time competing with that. His slim, sinewy body was on prime display. Pink nipples stared up at me trying desperately to get my attention. On a whim, I made up my mind to up the ante. Whatever this was, I didn't care. I needed him to know just how bad he made me want him, how bad I needed him at this moment.

I checked the hall before darting across to the bathroom. My hand shook as I held the phone in my right hand while stroking up a big dollop of pre-cum with my left. I took the photo before I could chicken out, sending it just as quick. I put a follow up text in just after it.

Ethan: 'Same. No cumming without me. Xoxo'

I hadn't even looked at the picture. I sprinted back to my room, flying back up to the bed to sit and stare at the evidence of my stupidity while hoping he'd still been awake to see it. My brown hair was highly irregular, thrown all about like a bad hand had tried to gel it. I didn't know it was possible to mess up this haircut that badly. The buzz cut on the sides just made the disorganized heap on top look even stranger. My eyelids hung over my eyes, barely letting the irises show. The shiny head of my dick glistened in the bathroom light, the counter cutting off the view of the lower half of my balls. A flat, hard stomach was shown off by my treasure trail running from my chest hair to my pubes. I thought the smile could use some work.

All in all, I actually didn't look that bad. This coming from a man who usually takes selfies that look like mugshots or horses smiling.

He must be asleep. My phone sat motionless on the night stand while I prayed for it to vibrate. I don't even remember falling asleep myself.



Stumbling Ch. 05



Richey had been somewhat of a phantom the next morning. His truck wasn't in the parking lot when I arrived. The only reason I knew he was even at school was a glimpse I'd seen of him from across the hall during a class change. We shared lunch and last period with Sumner. Until then, I'd have to be patient.

Lunch. Lunch meant Arthur Campbell. Arthur Campbell meant trouble. May as well get it over with, I thought as I marched down the hallway. My hand reached out for the double door push bar when a hand grabbed my shoulder. I spun around to see Richey.

"Follow me." He said.

Admittedly, I hadn't paid much attention to anyone's special bits. Gentlemanly or otherwise. Strange for a senior in high school, I know. I'd watched porn before, seen what I thought I was supposed to see. It always took an extreme amount of coaxing to bring myself off. Just kissing Richey had me ready to cream my pants last night. This may seem like the ramblings of some hormone crazed teenager, which means I must stress the point that this had NEVER happened to me before ever. Not with any of my girlfriends. Honestly, I had begun to think of myself as just not having a sex drive. I got the urge to cum, not the urge to cum for anyone in particular. Richey had changed that last night. The girls I'd dated out of some twisted sense of obligation had always confused me with their advances. I could never figure out if they were just bad at flirting. Turns out, I was just bad at being straight.

Mrs. Turner looked up at the two of us as we entered the library.

"Another tutoring session Mr. Kirk?" She asked sweetly. Damn her. If she had been talking to me, it would've been a step above hissing.

"No ma'am, we're working on a project together for Mr. Sumner's class."

"See that Mr. Kirk doesn't wind up doing all the work Mr. Doyle."

"Yes Ma'am." I gritted out between clenched teeth.

"That lady hates me." I whispered to Richey on our way to the back tables.

"She doesn't like any jocks."

"I'm not a jock!" I whispered loudly.

"No, but you look it muscle boy."

I blushed, remembering when I'd last heard him say that.

He laid out a couple of notebooks in front of us once we sat down. They had random notes from different classes spread out on their pages.

"This has nothing to do with our project."

"Please, I've seen how smart you are. We can write ten pages in our sleep. I just wanted to spend some time with you." He leaned in close to whisper in my ear. "You have no idea how much I'd love to sneak off with you right now. That was quite the picture last night."

"I wasn't sure you'd gotten that."

"Funny that. I woke up this morning to find a hot little muscle boy had sent me a down right sinful photo." A hand roamed over my thigh, a mere inch away from my already hard dick. "I've kept checking it throughout the day."

"I wasn't sure if I should do it or not, you know?"

"No I don't know. If you wanted me to want you, you didn't need to do anything."

"Oh fuck..." I moaned. One finger was running a nail down the length of my cock. It pulsed under his touch.

"It's a good thing no one comes to the library much. You look like you're about to cum in your pants. Not that I'm complaining."

"If you make me cum here, I swear I will kill you."

"Then stop me." He smiled.

"You're an evil bastard." I placed my head down on the tabletop. My breath came in pants. Sweat was starting to break out on my forehead. I laid my head on its side to look up at him.

"You're a sexy bastard though." I said.

"Compliments are always good." He gave my cock one last squeeze. "I'll have mercy on you. After all, I want you built up for when we get to your place." My cock throbbed at hearing this.

After a minute's breathing, we sat up straight. Our eyes searched the others for some sign of... well something.

"Where are we going with this?" I asked.

"Where do you want to go with this?"

"I'm not after a quick blowjob."

"Not even an ass fuck?" He joked.

"Do you always make jokes when people are trying to be serious?"

"Only when you're being serious."

"Look, I want more, okay? There I said it."

He sat back in his chair, looking quite pleased with himself. Smug jackass.

"I think the term you're looking for is 'boyfriend.'" He said quietly, air quoting the word.

I gulped, though didn't break eye contact. Above all else, I wanted him to see that I was serious about this. Our eyes stayed locked. My hand slid on top of his below the table.

"Richey, will you date me?"

His head nodded once.

"I'd love to. For your sake though, I'd recommend keeping it to ourselves for the time being."

"What do you mean for my sake?" I asked, a bit offended. Did he think I wasn't serious?

"Well, you are on the football team. You sit at the jock table. Are you telling me you're willing just to throw that all overboard when we just started this today?"

"You seem incapable of understanding that I am not some king of the school." I said, leaning forward. I pointed two fingers toward my eyes. "Look at me. I am a backup strong safety on a football team whose season has ended, a losing one at that. No school anywhere sent me the first scholarship offer. I. Am. Not. A. Jock. Those people don't know, nor do they particularly care about me. I'm just another nobody. They only talk to me out because I was on the team. No other reason."

"Are you blind?" He stared at me like he had all the answers. "Do you know what would've happened to anyone else who grabbed Arthur Campbell's arm like you did? Hmm?" The fingers of the hand not attached to mine thrummed on the table.

"I don't know. Probably a fight of some sort."

"You have no idea, do you?"

"About what?"

"Just how intimidating you are."

"Please." I pulled my hand back, attempting to cross my arms. His hand popped me in the kidney with a short jab. "Ow!" My hand was immediately scooped up by his when I dropped them to clutch my side.

"That's better." He said.

"If I'm so intimidating, then why ain't you cowering around me?"

"Because I've seen how you really are. Shy, quiet, thoughtful, considerate, someone who is just who he is without having to explain himself. Nobody else see's this, least not at this school. They all see a guy who doesn't look to others for any sort of validation. Maybe you're not the greatest football player-"

"Thanks."

"But you are strong, certainly for someone your size. You don't take crap off of anyone. Your... perfect." He finished on sigh, his eyes holding mine.

"You're delusional."

The bell went off overhead. Just as the dull hum of the electric note playing through the speakers finished, the sound of books cluttering to the ground came from behind a nearby shelf.

"The fuck?" Said a surprised Richey.

My pulse shot through the roof. I half expected to see some spying friend of one of my exes running out the library with her mini skirt flapping in the breeze. Instead, Larsen Nichols sheepishly walked out from behind the shelf.

"Hi guys." He gave a meek little wave from the waist.

"Were you listening Larsen?" I asked, deciding to get straight to the point. Less bull shit that way.

Richey gave me a strange look, almost as if he were saying 'be nice.'

"Yeah... I kinda sorta overheard the beginning. And then the middle... possibly the end."

His face was extremely red.

"Look guys, I swear to god I'm cool. I was just looking for a book. When I heard what you guys were talking about... well I couldn't help but listen."

"Why?" Richey and I both asked.

"Well, to be honest... the idea was kinda hot." Slowly, he met both our shocked gazes.

"This, I did not see coming." I said, stunned.

"Well, I may have."

Larsen and I both shifted out gazes to Richey.

"What?" He said. "He's not subtle about letting his eyes roam."

Larsen stood there with his mouth hanging open, redder than ever.

"Look," I said "We'll see about this later. We've got to get to class."

We all shuffled out the doors feeling awkward as hell.

Mr. Sumner's class passed quickly. The man had the unique ability to make the drivel that is a government prescribed history class somewhat interesting. It is quite embarrassing when you think about it. What do most U.S. history classes cover when they talk about the War Between the States? They go over three generals and four battles. Lee, Grant, and Sherman followed by Manassas, Antietam, Vicksburg, and Gettysburg. It's arguably the most important time in the nation's history, yet the chuckle fucks who set the curriculum think it's only worthy of two class periods. Meanwhile, I have to hear a week's worth of shit on where Christopher Columbus took a shit.

Watergate gets a day. Actually, a day is me being generous. If Richey and I spent more than forty minutes on our project, we would've covered more than we would have in the class where it was assigned. Which is why I spend my time in better ways. Much better ways. Firmer ways.

"Are you even paying attention?"

I looked up to meet Richey's eyes. He had a habit. Whenever he could pace, he would. My floor has developed a rut in it, I'm sure.

"Were you staring at my ass?"

"No, no." I waved a hand dismissively. "Just making sure you didn't sit in anything."

"Uh, huh."

Slowly, he stalked over towards me. Knees brushed past one another as he stood between my open legs. Hands descended down onto my shoulders.

"I suppose two hours is enough work for one night." He whispered, his face a few short inches from mine.

"It was closer to an hour and a half, if we're honest."

"Shut up."

Lips slowly glided against mine. I swear to god, there is something seriously underrated about taking your time. Little nibbles on my lips. Slow flicks of tongues up against one another. All of it adds up to a combination to drive me wild. My hands palmed his ass through his tight jeans. His hands worked their way down my chest. A sound bordering on a hiccup escaped me when nimble fingers found my zipper.

"Too fast?" He whispered.

"No... I just...I"

"No way," His eyes widened. Both hands flattened on my thighs. "You're a-"

"Yes. Okay? Yes. Look, I just-"

He cut me off with a quick kiss. With a quick plop, his ass rested sideways on my lap, his feet hanging over the edge of the old recliner I kept in the corner of my room. One hand played with the hair on the back of my neck while the other toyed with what peeked out the collar of my shirt. His forehead rested against mine while the sides of our heads lay against the plush chair.

"I think it's cute."

"Can you stop, please?" I moaned from embarrassment. He giggled in response.

"Come now, it's sexy too."

"How is being a virgin sexy?"

Our noses touched throughout this conversation, giving me the perfect view of his bright blue eyes and the shine they held.

"Oh, let's see..." He a finger from the hand that'd been on my chest down my jawline. "I get to train you just the way I want, for starters. Teach you what I like. You're like a new puppy who hasn't been taught any bad habits."

I chuckled at the comparison.

"So I'm a dog to you now? That's kinkier than I'm willing to get."

"You'll get used to me."

He gave me a quick peck before swinging his legs off me. His hips swayed a little as he slowly pulled his shirt up to reveal a pale flat stomach.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"Shut up and enjoy yourself."

"Ain't a striptease about as cliché as-" A shirt suddenly obscured my vision"

"Quiet you. You're supposed to be going crazy with desire here."

My eyes roamed up his lithe torso, admiring the lines. He wasn't as hairy as me. The treasure trail wasn't even noticeable unless the light hit it just right. Little pink nipples stood out on a firm set of pecs.

"I'm getting there. Keep going."

"Hey, this is a give and take type deal here."

I quickly ripped my shirt off. It wound up across the room somewhere.

"There. Proceed."

"You are absolutely no fun." He said laughing.

"How's this for fun?"

I stood up, abruptly ending his dance, if it could even be called that. My hands made short work of his belt and zipper.

"Someone's eager."

"Eighteen years will do that to a guy."

"I'm sure you can wait a few minutes more."

He was just as efficient with my pants as I was. We kicked out of our denim ankle cuffs.

"I didn't peg you for a boxer guy." I said.

"What, the gay guy needs to wear bikini briefs?"

"I wouldn't have minded."

"I'll be sure to pick some up for you."

I looked down to see a large tent in his plain, sky blue boxers. Cautiously, I tugged the waistband down until his dick flopped up against his stomach with its release.

"Impressive." I said as I stroked him lightly.

"Ohhh... Care to show me how impressive."

"Don't get cocky."

"Ha, cock."

"Sit." I said, as I pushed him back towards the recliner. "Bear with me on this?"

"I'll do my best darlin." He sat back in the comfy chair slowly stroking his long, thin cock.

Few things are as daunting as sucking a dick for the first time, especially if you've only been thinking about it for less time than it takes to cook chili in the crock pot. It's strange the things you think of in these times. The thought running through my head was how Stacey had once asked me to eat her out. I couldn't bring myself to get remotely turned on at the prospect. If memory serves, I told her I was a good boy waiting for marriage. Now, I was getting more turned on the closer his pulsing cock got to my face.

Can a taste sow peculiar be described? Probably not, but hey, it's worth a shot. Salty isn't the word. Salty is more like an undertone, largely masked by the musky taste and smell of man. Really, it's sensory overload. I felt like a rookie juggler being thrown in front of the circus for the first time. I licked my way around, feeling out the whole situation. The entire time, my dick was throbbing between my legs.

"Oh... Baby that's good. Just like that. You're doing great." He moaned while I bobbed.

It's an awkward role to play. At first. The more we went along, the more I got into it. The more he moaned, the more determined I became to milk every drop from him. My fingers gently rolled his balls as he writhed in the chair. I could tell he was getting close. They were starting to draw up.

"Fuck baby, if you don't want to swallow you'd best- OH FUCK!"

I wanted it. The head of his long, skinny dick hit the back of my throat. Next, came a volley of scalding hot spunk down my throat. I pulled back in time to catch the last two pumps on my tongue. He pulled me up, his mouth meeting mine with force in an effort to suck what remained from me, before his tongue swapped it back with me.

"Holy shit." He purred. "Not bad for the first at bat."

"I've heard I'm a quick learner."

"I'll be the judge of that. Now," He twisted us until he was in front of me while I took his old position. "I think it's my turn." He grinned up at me.

I'd like to believe I'm a porn star. Fact of the matter is, I'm not. Hard as a rock, I'm only a tad under six inches. Thickness counts for something though, or at least that's what I'm going with. Everyone who doesn't have a horse cock has surely thought themselves inadequate at one point. Want to know the cure for that? Having a hot as sin guy on his knees staring at your cock like it's a glass of water in the middle of the Atacama.

Duel moans exited us when his lips slid over my head. My eyes closed from the pleasure. Every lick, every flick of his tongue, every stroke of his hands as they massaged my sack was speedily sending me to ecstasy. There had been way too much going on before we even got to this point. My teeth damn near bit a hole through my lip due to my efforts to make this last just a little longer.

Alas, all good things must come to an end.

"Let it go babe." He said during a brief pull off.

"Oh damn, damn, damn..." I ended in a long moan as shot after shot went down his throat.

He milked every drop, tenderly licking along my softening shaft, only stopping when I pulled him off.

"Sorry that didn't go longer."

"Babe, that was perfect. Don't worry about it."

"It's just messing with you has me on a hair trigger to start with. Throw in blowing you and we're lucky I didn't cum before you even touched me."

"I think that's the best compliment I've gotten in a while."

"Don't get used to it."

We spent some time just cooling down after that, resting like we had before in the big chair.

"Why do you have a recliner in your room?"

"Well," I said while stretching a little. My arm had fallen asleep where Richey was leaning on it. "It was in the living room for years. When my mother-"

"Mom. For the love of god please say mom."

"When dear MOTHER," He shook his head. "Bought the new couches she bought a new recliner to go with it. That left nowhere to put this. She wanted to give it away while I love this damn chair. It was arranged to move it in here."

"It's one of the ugliest chairs I've ever seen." 

He ran a hand over the plump, soft material of the arm rest. The chair itself was an oversized, green mixed with brown mixed with god knows what, mess. Plaid and sad as my mother once said. It sat well though. My ass had its own mold at this point.

"Is it comfy?" I asked.

"Eh." He didn't look impressed.

"You realize I'm dragging it out of this house through a window if a fire ever catches."

"Why?"

"Memories, like the corners of my mind." I began to sing. When I started to go into the next line, he slapped the back of my head.

Jealous of my vocal chords is all.

We parted ways at nine. He watched TV with my mother for an hour before deciding it was time to head home. My mother may be more accepting than previously thought. In fact I'm almost sure she knew something was amiss. Sideways stares can only be ignored so long. Headlights had just finished going across the living room wall when I heard the TV turn off, the remote clattering to the coffee table.

"So dear Boyo," She said, still reclined on the couch. For all the world, she looked like a queen on her throne, despite the pajama pants. "Do we need to have a sex talk or do you think I can trust you not to do anything too stupid?"

I'm sure my face was red. I know my eyes had bugged out. Ever just hear something you weren't ready for, even though you thought you were? My mother always had a way of knowing what you thought she was going to say, then taking another route just to mess with your head.

"Whatever do you mean?"

"Don't play coy. I may be dumb, but I ain't blind. Anybody can see you two are smitten with each other."

"Does this mean you're not mad?"

For all the 'I'm grown up' arguments we'd had in the past, never had I felt more like a little kid than then. Essentially, you're placing your happiness in the hands of someone else and hoping they don't ball it up while you watch. If she wanted, she could've cut me like a knife without ever leaving the couch.

"Honey, I'd never hate you over something like that. Tell me, do you remember your uncle Clemton? The tall one with the real tan skin?"

"You're half-brother?"

"That's the one."

Uncle Clemton died when I was nine. A drunk driver had t-boned him late one night in the winter. Can't say I was too torn up about. The only time I ever saw the man was Thanksgiving and Christmas. He was born to my Step-grandmother before she married my grandfather. He and my mother knew each other on a somewhat distant basis, as they were already grown when their parents had married. To my knowledge, he wasn't too close with anyone on our side of the family.

"What about him."

"He was gay."

There's something else I hadn't braced myself for. To actually here the word, to hear her say it, to know that she knew it applied to me. It was all surreal. Almost like an out of body experience where you can still feel your heart pound.




Stumbling Ch. 05



"Can't say I knew that." I mumbled.

"Well it wasn't like you were old enough. I never thought twice about who he slept with, nor did I give a damn. He seemed happy enough to me. And I will admit I probably supported him more than I felt at the time simply because it pissed your father off to no end." Her lips curled into a full smile. Whenever possible, she loved to dig him.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you and dad didn't get along."

"You think you're funny. Listen, the only good thing to ever come out of your father was you. Beyond that, the man couldn't find his ass if he sat on his hands for an hour. That, and he had the personality of a shoe. Don't get me wrong," She sat up a little, gesturing with a hand full of a glass of tea. "When he wanted to be charming he could. That wore off after the marriage. Day to day, the man was just plain dull. Eat, shit, sleep, work, and do it again the next day."

"That doesn't sound so bad."

She sank back down into the couch. Her eyes scanned some pictures of the family on an end table.

"If you love the person, then I suppose not. You're father and I... it's almost like someone turned the burner off on a stove. Just like that," Her fingers snapped. "The heat was gone, the flame dying out like a dog in the street. He didn't want to be around me and I didn't want to be around him. I can't even tell you why it worked to begin with."

She stood up slowly. Mother liked a little bourbon in her tea occasionally, especially after a long day at work. When she came over to me, she gave me a long hug.

"You'll always be my baby. So long as you're happy and not hurting nobody, I'll be happy as well. Besides, Richey is a nice boy. So much tragedy though."

"He's strong. He gets by better than most."

"It would seem that way." She patted my shoulder as she walked by me to go to her bedroom.

Bourbon in the dark. Sounds like a weird song title. I sat in my chair, henceforth known as the lucky chair, sipping some tea with bourbon. Like mother like son.

Dial tones haven't changed in years, have they? Only four rings went before there was an answer.

"Hello?"

"She knows."

"Oh shit, Ethan I so sorry, do you need a place to stay, I can-"

"Babe, calm down. She's cool."

"Oh. Really?" His voice pitched up high on the 'really.'

"Really. We had an odd chat. Other than that, she's happy. She likes you." I whispered just as the glass touched my lips.

"What's not to like?"

"I'm sure I'll think of something eventually."

"But not yet?" He teased.

"No, not yet. I plan to have time enough to find something."

"I like this plan."

"SO," I puffed out. "How do we handle tomorrow?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well Larsen knows."

"Larsen don't give a damn. In fact, if you wanted a threesome he's probably game."

"Hey," I barked as I sat up straight, the tea shaking up in my glass. "No threesomes. There will be no threesomes. I have a hard enough time handling you, I don't need more trouble coming my way."

He laughed, his throaty chuckles calming me towards sleep.

"Not even an exhibition show?"

"No."

"He'll just be jerking off in the corner, I swear."

"No!" I laughed

"Fine," He chuckled. "I'll just have to make him a video."

"I'm done talking to you."

"Sleep tight Snookums."

"No more pet names!"

"But butterdrop?"

I pressed the end call button, before he could say anything else. A smile was etched on my lips as I finished my tea. My phone vibrated under my hand.

Richey: Night... cupcake ;)

"Idiot." I muttered as I threw the phone onto the bed.

The stupid grin never left my face.



Stumbling Ch. 06



"This is weird. I feel like the world has been turned upside down."

"That's great, Lars, really it is. You know what's even better? Not talking about it."

I found myself in the company of my own personal, brand new, never before had an outlet for this sorta shit, fan-boy. Larsen Nichols. He decided to sit with me at lunch, after I decided to sit by myself to try and preempt my eventual exile from the jock table. I had started to give what Richey said about my being intimidating some merit. In fact, he may be right. I'm almost certain I stole this table from a group of freshmen, based on how several had walked up and placed a tray down only to see me and scurry away. I had to yell at one guy to take his tray. I've never felt very threatening before. It's not like I walk around staring people down or throw anyone into a locker.

Larsen had me wishing I was more intimidating. He hadn't asked very many questions. Yet. Instead, he bounced in his seat like a little puppy. The idiot was burning a hole in my head when he wasn't letting his eyes dance around the room in his excited retelling of how he had heard everything that Richey had discussed with me yesterday. Part of me was concerned with his volume. A larger part of me didn't give a shit. If anyone heard him, they didn't care. Larsen rambles. Everyone knows this, even those who don't know him. He's the hyper kid everyone smiles and nods at, never really hearing a word he says. I'd call him ADD's poster child.

"It's just... like huge! I mean, I always thought I was alone, except maybe Richey, but that was never confirmed. Just a hint, you know? This is a small school. Having some other people here like me is just blowing my mind. Add in that the someone is you... just wow man."

"At least you don't ask much from life."

"What's that mean?" His head tilted like a puppy.

"Lars, look at how you're feeling right now."

"Over the moon, ecstatic, in desperate need of a happy dance." He counted off with his fingers.

"Yes, exactly. I get the feeling you get the same level of happiness when the cafeteria serves pie."

His eyes lit up before he turned his head over his shoulder to look back at the lunch line.

"I didn't see the pie."

He started to stand up. My hand on his shoulder brought him back down a little harder than necessary.

"There is no pie."

"Oh..." He looked positively crestfallen.

"I'm sure they'll have it Friday. But what I was saying, if you remember back that far, is you are easily amused. Happiness comes by without even trying to hit you and you manage to grab it."

"That's a good thing, right?"

"That's a great thing. I truly envy you. But listen to me, you have got to calm down a bit. There's no reason for you to be this pleased."

"Why not?" He asked, indignant that I'd burst his bubble. "There's finally some people around here I can talk to about gay stuff."

The word was going to take some getting used to. I still cringed a little. Hearing him use the word in connection to me was surreal, just as surreal as when my mother had done it.

"Lars, don't you want a boyfriend?"

"Well, yeah. That'd be nice. You're with Richey though." He looked confused.

"Correct." I said slowly. "That means, the two gay guys you now know, ain't available. Shouldn't that bring you down a little?"

"Well, maybe a little." He shrugged. "Still, I can share in the happiness. It floats around Richey like a cloud. I kinda wondered why he was suddenly smiling so much." His eyes roamed up and down my body, or what was visible from the table top up. "I can see why now." I blushed a bit.

"Cool your jets perv. I'm strictly a one trick pony. One rider at a time."

"Doesn't mean I can't see that you're hot, or why Richey likes you. In fact, I never knew you were this nice."

"Why does everyone think I'm an asshole?"

"Well, you don't talk much and you scowl a lot. It comes off a bit intimidating."

"How come no one ever told me?"

"Oh yeah, let's go up and tell the intimidating guy not to be so intimidating. 'Excuse me Mr. serial killer, turn that frown upside down.' That was bound to end well."

I laughed, despite not wanting to.

"See?" He beamed. "Even hotter when he smiles."

"Okay, I get it. Adding smiling to my to-do list."

"Good. It'll help matters. Now, where's your boy toy?"

"He's studying in the library."

"And you're in here... WHY?" He made this crazy arm movement, his face saying the words 'Idiot' in big bold letters.

"I offered to join him. He said he wouldn't get anything done if I was there. Too distracting."

"Well, he's probably right about that."

"Yeah. To get him back, I may have texted him a less than school appropriate photo." I smirked.

Larsen's hand covered his gaping mouth.

"No way! Let me see!"

"What? No!"

"Is your dick in it?"

"Yes..." I blushed a little at his bluntness.

"Well see, I thought it was just a shirtless photo. Nope! This fella went full on dick pic. Congrats my friend. When he kills you with kisses, please do me a favor and send me photo of the aftermath."

"I'll think about it. Let's talk about you."

"Oh? Mr. Scary wants to ask about my life. This is really a fucking Twilight Zone episode."

"Why ain't you out? You seem to not really give a fuck what anyone else thinks."

"Why ain't you?"

"Larsen, I'm out in my eyes. The second Richey and I decided we were dating, I stepped out the closet I had no idea I was even in. If someone asks, they're going to hear me tell them. Just don't see a reason to shout it from the rooftops is all."

"Well, there you go. You've got Richey. If I had a man, I'd come out too. In fact, I'd probably go about it the same way. I'm not narcissistic enough to think anyone around here gives two fucks who I want to fuck or have fuck me."

"There's an image."

"A good one I hope." He smiled a quasi-flirty smile. "In fact, you can consider me out. Yeah. You know what, the next time the guys on the basketball team start talking about girls, I'm gonna mention a dude."

"That should be the king of awkward moments."

"Like a fart in church."

We both sighed, suddenly quiet. I thought about how much it annoyed me to think something that only affected me could cause people I'd known for years to change their opinions of me.

"Your family know?" I asked.

"Yeah. They're good. Yours?"

"My mother."

"Dad not take it well?"

"He lives on the over side of the country. I could stand to give a fuck what he thinks."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. He left when I was young. At least we picked a good time to be born. If someone gives us too much shit for who we are, we can at least go to the office with it and not be laughed out the room."

He was quiet. When I looked over at him, he was staring at me.

"What?"

"I just figured if someone messed with you they were going to get their teeth kicked in."

"Again with you thinking I'm some kind of Batman villain. I didn't do shit to earn this rep."

"I'm telling you man, you just shake people up without trying."

"I'm not going to pretend to understand why. It if keeps people from doing something stupid then I guess I'll just have to be cool with it."

"Usually it's tall dark and quiet, not short, lithe, and murky. Way to bust some stereotypes my man."

"You're an idiot. And don't call me short. Everyone's short compared to you."

"I'm just 6'2."

"And I'm not, okay?"

"Someone has height issues? Dude, you can't ruin your serial killer façade with height hang ups. You're fine the way you are. Call it fun sized."

"I will kill you if you say that again."

"There's the serial killer! Keep it up. It's convincing." He gave a thumbs up and an exaggerated wink.

I couldn't help chuckling at his idiocy.

"Tell you what, I'll get over my height when you get over your foolishness."

"So, never?"

"That's right."

"I think you just need to see how hot it is."

"What, now short people are hot?"

"Number one, you're not that short. Number two, do you have any idea how hot it can be to know you'd fit so good against my chest as I slowly pumped into your tight as from behind, nibbling on your ear while you scream my name?" He whispered all of this, leaning closer to my ear throughout.

I cleared my throat while slowly pushing him away. My dick had gotten harder than was decent in this public of a place. Simply put, I was busting at the seams.

"You may have a point."

"Richey is going to have to fight you off in class. You look about ready to cum."

My dick throbbed at his last words.

"Larsen, for the love of all that's holy, just be quiet for the next five minutes. Give me that at least."

He lounged back in his chair. A smug grin appeared over his face.

"Short people can be hot, you in particular. We agreed?"

"Agreed."

"So I win?"

"Fine, I don't care."

"No more body issues then. You're fine the way you are. Richey like's you plenty. Be a dear, tell him I helped with your self-esteem issues. He owes me a candy bar now. The interest will go up every week. At a month, it becomes two candy bars, of my choice. Three months, now that's getting on up there-"

"Shut up Lars. I'm seriously regretting sitting alone now. You've made me harder than granite-"

"With just words."

"While rambling incessantly. If you weren't cute I'd have stuffed something in your mouth a long time ago."

"I'm pretty sure you're wishing you could stuff something in my mouth anyway."

My dick had been dying down, only to start pumping up again with that.

"You're not helping!"

"In this case, I wasn't trying. This is my new favorite game in fact."

"I'm telling Richey you're an asshole."

"So long as you tell him this story. I know he'll laugh his ass off."

He was right. In whispered conversation, I recounted the entire lunch time to Richey while Mr. Sumner droned on about shit no one cared about. Richey was biting his fist at one point. Luckily, we'd sat in the back corner today, next to the open window. The sound of the grass being mowed covered us.

"I wish I had been there. God that'd been great. You're so cute when you squirm."

"It wasn't funny. I had to walk the whole way down here with my binder on my dick."

"Larsen is my new favorite."

"Hey!" I whisper shouted. "This is the point where you should be getting jealous, not wishing he'd jerked me off."

His eyes locked with mine, holding them a while before speaking.

"Who are you dating?"

"You." I answered immediately.

"Exactly. I trust you. Larsen teasing you makes me laugh, not nervous. He's a good guy. You're a smart guy."

"You saying he's not?"

"He is, in his own way."

"That's a polite way of saying no."

He grimaced.

"He's not going to impress anyone with his SAT's, we all know that. He can see people though, he doesn't hang out with idiots cause he knows how to pick out nice people."

"He thought I was a serial killer."

"I didn't say you were nice."

"Didn't have to. Last night was all the proof I needed."

"Speaking of which, fuck you. I barely got any studying done today, thanks to you." He poked my chest.

"Mr. Kirk and Mr. Doyle. Is there something either of you would like to add to my lecture?" Mr. Sumner called from the front.

"No sir." We muttered.

"Good. Let's keep it that way." He turned back to the board.

I pulled my phone out, flipping to my latest photo. To be honest, Lars is right in that I've never had what one might term a healthy body image. It just seemed too cocky to take pictures of myself or think that I was anything special to look at. But Richey liked looking at me, I found. Thus, I suddenly had numerous pictures of myself I previously would never had even considered taking. My latest nude shot was of my ass in the mirror of my dresser. I was looking over my shoulder. The head of my dick can be seen, as I was standing a little sideways. Football and the weight room had toned my buns up big style. It was probably the only thing I was remotely proud of.

I held it under the desk, my foot tapping Richey's. He looked to me, then down when I motioned with my eyes. His eyes widened a bit as he stared. It occurred to me that if anyone else had looked, they'd have thought Richey was staring unabashedly at my crotch. This caused me to laugh. Mr. Sumner glared at me, though he didn't say a word. One glare from that man would cause any man to shrink in his seat. Again, he went back to his lesson.

"You have no idea how much I want you right now." Richey whispered.

The hard, distinct outline going down his pants called to me.

"I think I may have some. You're showing dear."

"Fuck you..." He mumbled.

"We'll get there."

He gulped. A hand tugged at his collar. Desperately, he refocused on the lecture. Not to let him a moment's relaxation, and possibly to show him how I felt with Larsen, I slid my hand over to grip his throbbing cock.

"What do you- ahh... fuck..." My hand slowly stroked up and down his length.

"Pay attention Mr. Kirk. This is an important lesson." I whispered.

My hand continued to slide over him, teasing the head as much as I could. He couldn't have been harder if his dick had been made of steel. Superman couldn't bend this bar.

"How bad do you want in my ass, huh?"

"Oh fuck..."

"Do you dream of driving your dick, this dick, my newly acquired play toy in and out of my tight ass as fast and hard as you can?"

"Yes... dear god yes..."

His dick throbbed now, aching to do the things I whispered. I kept up my teasing throughout the next ten minutes. When the bell rang, I stood up with my binder over my own aching member.

"Come on Richey, class is over." I said as cheerily as I could.

He looked up me. What a sight he was. Like the victim of a bad fever, sweat matted his blonde hair to his forehead. His breaths came in pants like he'd just ran up a sand dune. A dark spot was clear to me from all the pre cum he'd leaked in his blue jeans. Shakily, he stood up while sliding his messenger bag over the dark spot.

"I'm not sure if I like you anymore you evil fucker." His voice had dropped an octave.

"You'll get over it."

We walked in silence out to the parking lot. Students were sparse to be seen throughout the hallways. All the ones who rode the bus would get on in the courtyard out front, downstairs. The upstairs hallways had only a few students who stayed for clubs along with some gossiping teachers. The path down to the other side of the school was a long one. The student's primary exit to the parking lot was by the gym, a large set of two glass double doors. I waved to the gym teacher's wife when we passed on the way out. Richey's Dodge followed me without question as we turned out the school's lot. The truck followed still when I took the long way again.

"You're still having nightmares, ain't ya."It was a simple statement. No doubt. A statement.

We sat on the couch watching television. Our passion from earlier had died down a bit, to the point where I just wanted to relax with him. I must admit, I'd never experienced being held in a romantic sense before, being as I was always the 'man' in the relationship with my exes. The girls wanted to be cuddled and held close to my warmth. I was coming to realize just how nice that was. Fucking hell, why hadn't I done this before?

"Eeth?"

"Yes, I do. They're rarely the same each time anymore, but I still have them. To be honest, I think it's something that's not going to go away."

"Don't say that." He squeezed me tighter, pulling my head against his chest.

"No, listen. I've always been a bit of a history buff. Military history is my thing. I've read books written by men who've seen way worse than what I did. They all say the same thing: it doesn't go away. It might get better, it may become less frequent, but it will always be with you. You don't just forget having a man die in your arms."

"You're talking about this like it's a homework problem."

"It helps me deal with it, if that makes any sense." I wrapped my arms around his waist, my head rubbing in a circle on his chest to get comfortable. "If I try to be as logical as possible, I can be prepared for when things go badly. I don't want to tell myself I'll forget, that these dreams will end just so I can be disappointed when they don't. It's enough for me to know it's not real, that I did what I knew how at the time. I wish it would've gone differently."

"But it didn't. I understand. I do the same thing. When I first started thinking about you, I just allowed myself fantasies. The second it was over, I had nice long talk, man to man with myself about how you were straight."

"So, this wasn't a recent development?"

"Heavens no. Use a fucking mirror Ethan, you're hotter than sin. I've wanted you since I knew I liked dick."

"Well... good." I mumbled into his shirt.

"You were worried I was attaching myself to you just cause of what you did for my dad."

"I didn't do anything for your dad."

"Baby," He squeezed me some more, his hand petting my head like a puppy. "Listen to me, for real this time. Don't blow what I'm going to say off as being nice. I mean this. You gave my dad some comfort in what would've otherwise been a lonely, cold death. He had someone to ease him out of this world. I can't explain to you how much that makes me feel better, to know that you were with him."

He took a deep breath. My nose twitched from the air going over it when he exhaled.

"Does that make me like you more? Yes. In a thankful kinda way. I'm thankful you were there to help him. That wouldn't make me want to fuck you, which I already did." He kissed the top of my head. "Or make me want to hold you like this for as long as the world will let me get away with. You make me want you, regardless if that had ever happened. That whole thing was just the world's most blunt introduction to each other. It made you feel obligated to talk to me, and me obligated to be nice to you."

"You're saying that if that hadn't happened you would never had even tried being friends with me, even if I was nice to you?"

"Most likely. As we've discussed, you're scary for a short dude." I bit his nipple, the bastard.

"Ow! That was a little too hard to be a love bite."

"Continue."

"I shall call you nibbles."

"Keep going with your story."

"It was an explanation, not a story."

"Talk!"

"Fine. You were my straight guy crush, the one every gay guy has. Rule number one is don't get close to the guy you want but know you can't have. You could've done almost anything short of asking me out and I would've ignored you for my own sanity's sake."

"That makes sense. I mean, I can see where you're coming from. I didn't even know I was gay until we started."

"Are you even sure you're gay? Maybe you're bi?"

"I'm sure."

Silence hung in the air for a moment.

"Care to elaborate?" He asked.

"I've had girlfriends, correct?"

"Right..."

"Well, if I wanted I could've fucked any of them. Stacey was practically gagging for it."

"You mentioned that before."

"They never turned me on the way you do. I always thought that when their clothes came off, I'd get what the fuss was about and things would go the way they went. Then I thought, well maybe I just have a low sex drive. Then I thought, maybe I just didn't like anybody."

"Surely you thought about dudes."

"Yeah, but in a comparative way. I never checked a guy's package in the locker room and thought 'god I want to suck that.' Or 'that'd fit nicely in my ass.' It just didn't do anything for me. I would think a guy was handsome or something like that."

"But you didn't want to shove his cock down your throat?"

"Exactly. I'm beginning to think it was because my brain can separate when it's professional time and when it's fuck time. I'm not explaining this well, am I?"




Stumbling Ch. 06



"You're doing fine. What you're saying, in my mind, is you only get into the action when it's clear that there's action to be had. Like when Lars almost made you come with his sexy voice."

"Shut up!" I slapped his stomach. He laughed. "You're on the right track. I can talk to a dude and not feel anything sexual. But I think if my body knows it has a chance with that dude then it suddenly starts to get excited like everyone else does for whoever they find hot."

"So, you're situational horny?"

"That's a good term for it, I guess."

"Just one more thing that makes my baby unique."

"More like strange."

"Unique is a nicer word though. Makes you sound distinguished."

"Instead of crazy."

"Pretty much."

"At least now I know my sex drive is fine, it just takes my brain to know a guy is down to fuck to actually get me going."

"What about porn?"

"What do you mean?"

"By their nature, porn stars are down to fuck. What type of porn did you watch?"

"Straight porn. When I look back on it, it makes more sense why I always picked the big dick category, or why I liked videos where I could see the dick more often than not, as opposed to the camera shots where there's nothing but tits flopping around."

"Ha! Like half delated balloons after a party."

"Yeah... I figured I'd check out a gay sight the other night. Turns out, I was just watching the wrong stuff this whole time."

"Came in five minutes, didn't ya?"

"Oh yeah." I blushed, tucking my face against his chest.

He reached down to pull my chin up, forcing me to look at him.

"I kinda like that you shoot quickly. I don't know why."

"Maybe you're an instant gratification type guy."

He smirked, eyes twinkling somewhat.

"Perhaps, but I think I know what it is."

"Do tell."

"It's the idea that you're so excited to see me that you're ready to shoot at the slightest touch."

His hand slid over my stomach, his finger tracing the line of my dick.

"Being a hair trigger just means that I get to see your face scrunch up in pleasure that much faster. It means I can fuck you into a second cumming that much easier. Cause while you've already cum once, I'll still be on my first. Who knows? If I can be patient and work you just right, you just may cum while I'm pumping my hot load up your ass."

"Bedroom." I barked.

I'd had about all the talking I could take. His had remained firmly planted in mine as I dragged him to my bedroom. We didn't stop to kiss along the way. This had gotten into some darker, more primal territory, without much warning. It reminded me of my teacher telling me how brain cells work. When they fire, it's either all or nothing. The door made a loud click as I locked the handle. He was already taking his shirt off. I took direction from him and did the same. We stared across at one another as we undid our belts and jeans.

"We actually doing this?" He asked.

I didn't answer, instead choosing to show him, stepping out of my jeans as I walked towards him. My knees hit the floor. My left hand swept his jeans away so I wouldn't be worried about them. He'd worn boxer briefs like my own this time, the throbbing rod encased inside looking like it was on display. The bright red turned dark at the tip where'd he'd been leaking during class, along with some recent additions.

"Someone dressing up for me?"

"I can't have you thinking I'm not trying."

"No worries about that."

Slowly, I pulled his fancy undies down to reveal his perfect prick. The purple head looked almost angry. I held it against the side of my face while looking up at his pleasure filled face.

"How long are you?"

"Little over seven inches. Not that thick though."

"You're perfect."

I slid my lips alongside his shaft, my goal being the dripping head. When I met his pre-cum, I couldn't contain the moan from his flavor. There's no need to worry about me being gay Richey. This seals the deal. I could stay here for the rest of my life and never feel robbed. The head touched the back of my throat, to which I swallowed around it. Every ounce of me was determined to deep throat him. I wanted it, needed it. To me, this was showing how much I wanted this man. Enough to pleasure him at my own discomfort.

Though discomfort is hardly a word for it. Yes I gagged a little, yes a few tears came to my eyes with my exertions. That doesn't account for the rightness in my soul to feel him seated in my throat. His moans made me feel on top of the world. To know that this man's pleasure was derived chiefly from me. This was a high I would never get tired of. I owned him at this moment. Determination filled me, wanting desperately to make this so good he never thought of anyone else. Every lick of his head, every swirl of my tongue, every bit of drivel leaked out when he went too deep was a means to achieve this end.

That, and his cock hitting the back of my throat felt damn good, along with his hands twined through my hair. All the while he screamed.

"That's it, take my long dick! Who's my cock sucker, huh? Who's my little slut?"

"Me, I love your dick Baby, I want you to face fuck me."

"Oh god..."

He held the sides of my head, keeping me still. His hips snapped forward, instantly filling my mouth with flesh as his cock pounded the back of my throat. This went on forever before he pulled off. He stared down at me in awe.

"God, you are so hot right now. Come here."

We kissed like starved men. Angry kisses, loving kisses. Nips, bites, and growls interspersed with slow tongue duels. He managed to spin us around to where my ass faced the bed.

"Lube?"

"Top left drawer." I pointed to the dresser.

He opened it up. A short rumble through my underwear and he came up with the medium sized black bottle. Quickly, he came back over to push me down on the mattress. Roughly, he pulled my hips to the edge and crouched down.

"This is going to be cold."

Before I could say anything in reply, his mouth descended on my throbbing cock as it pointed straight in the air. He worked me with nothing but his lips and tongue, his hands doing unseen things with that bottle.

Just as he warned, a coldness made me flinch a little when his finger appeared at my untapped entrance. Circling, he didn't penetrate, choosing instead to leave me in anticipation for a while longer.

His tongue continued to flick around the head of my cock. This was combined with sudden swallows of my entire dick, with him trying just as hard to take me in his throat. To be fair, my challenge had been a little greater.

"God, you're fucking good at this."

As if he'd been waiting for that, his finger finally slipped in. The pain I'd expected didn't come. Instead, I was just aware that something was in my ass. What's all the hype about I wondered? Then he pulled out and I figured out what was up. The nerves around my hole came alight, tingling like never before. In, then out again with the same result. I LOVED this!

I was moaning something unholy. His finger seemed to curl slightly, like he was telling someone to come hither. Without warning, lightning had struck inside of my ass. Pleasure like never before lit through me with whatever he touched being the conductor of this chaos.

"Holy fuck! Don't stop, holy shit, don't stop! I love it!"

"I see that."

I looked down to see him smiling up at me. It occurred to me how I was screaming like a bitch in heat without his mouth even being on my cock anymore.

"What have you done to me?" I moaned.

"Shown you that you're a bottom apparently. I've never known anyone this responsive. You were loving it without me even hitting your g spot. I thought you'd fly off the bed when I did."

"Fuck that's good. Hurry up and get your cock in me. If a finger feels this good, I can't believe what that long dick of yours is gonna be like."

"Patience baby. Here's two."

I felt another finger slowly join the first. A dull burn was the only pain I remotely felt. I was so relaxed, he could've done whatever he wanted down there. My cock drooled like a St. Bernard. There was a small ocean of pre-cum on my stomach.

A third finger joined its comrades. I moaned with pleasure. This was seriously one of the crowning points in my life. His fingers formed a triangle, stretching me open.

"Fuck me, fuck me right now."

"My pleasure baby."

He stood upright, his left hand pulling my hips to him. I wrapped my legs around him while he lined up to home plate. The blunt head of his dick was tantalizingly close to achieving what I wanted so badly. A short burst of pain shot through me when his head popped in. Unable to wait, and wanting to get the bad out of the way first, I pulled him in deeper with my legs.

"Oh fuck you're tight. Take your time baby, adjust, breathe.... God you're so sexy." His hand stroked me back to full hardness after it had died down from the sudden pain.

His thrusts were short and shallow, only gradually getting deeper. The pain was mostly gone, replaced by pleasure. I could feel every bit he had in as it slid through me. God, if this was what it meant to be a bottom then I'm fine with it. I don't know what he was feeling in his position, nor did I much care to. This felt great, and I couldn't see topping... well topping this. This was great! How come no one ever told me about this?

When he bottomed out, he stared down at me, eyes wet.

"I never dreamed this could actually happen."

"I never dreamed I would find someone who does to me what you do."

Our lips met violently. His kissed fueled the fire between us, until I pulled back to whisper.

"Fuck me like you mean it. Drill my ass. Pump me full of cum. Make me yours."

"God damn..."

He pulled all the way out, till nothing but the head was left. Without preamble, he slid home hard, driving an excited yelp from me. His hips snapped back and forth against ass. The sound of flesh on flesh was echoing throughout.

"Fuck, fuck my tight ass!"

"I love this bubble butt! So tight on my cock, so firm as I bounce off it."

"YES! Come on, fuck me harder!"

He did. Quick and fierce, his dick drove in and out of me. My ass pulsed around his cock. Every nerve fiber in my ass was on fire with pleasure.

"You ready for this? You want my cum baby? Tell me how you want me to shoot into you."

"Yes Richey, fill my ass with your cum! Overflow me. Make me taste it baby!"

"Oh fuck... you'll get your wish! Here it comes... Oh Fuck Yes!"

Like someone had turned the hose on, my insides were coated in his warm thick fluids. The thought along with reality of it sent me over the edge. My ass clamped down on him while my cock sprayed between us, neither of us touching it.

"Holy shit that's hot." He said looking down at it spewing.

Slowly, his thrusts eased to a crawl. When he pulled out, I felt empty. I almost felt like I needed him back even though he hadn't left my side. A slow kiss was shared as we reveled in the afterglow.

"That was better than any dream I'd ever had." He whispered.

"I think I may have died. And I'm cool with that."

"I never would've imagined you being so submissive. I love it!"

"You bring it out in me I think. At least you do in the bedroom. You cock felt so good up my ass... why have I never put anything up there before?"

He laughed, his rumbling chuckles shaking me.

"The burdens of the straight lifestyle."

"No more."

"We need a shower."

"Later."

We wound up falling asleep.



Stumbling Ch. 07



"And that's, essentially, what the Watergate scandal was about, as well as its numerous effects on American politics and culture." Richey stated.

"Thank you Mr. Kirk and Mr. Doyle. You may be seated."

Mr. Sumner lead the class in its obligatory applause, which was decidedly less enthused than it had been at the beginning of the presentations. Overall, I'd say we got an A. This despite the fact Mr. Sumner rarely gives A's.

"That went pretty well, I think." Richey whispered to me as we picked up our papers from Mr. Sumner's podium.

"As well as could be expected."

We both made our way to the back of the class. One of Arthur Campbell's buddies stuck a foot out to trip Richey, who regained his footing without much effort. He kept walking, used to this sort of behavior. Stuart Murdock chuckled with his friends.

I wasn't.

"Oh shit!" I shouted.

Pretending to stumble, my body angled towards their table. I made damn sure the big mother fucker of reference book we'd used to quote from in our presentation, yay required book sources, hit Stuart in the face. Stuart squealed like a pig when it caught him in the nose, his eyes instantly tearing up. I leaned in close after I'd picked the book off the ground to whisper in his ear.

"Watch where you put your feet Stu, else someone could get hurt."

I stood up straight to grip his shoulder tightly.

"Gee Stu, I'm so sorry about that, are you okay?" I asked loud enough for the class to hear.

"Fine..." He muttered through the hands covering his face.

"Well thank goodness for that. So sorry, totally my fault." I patted his back before walking back to my seat next to Richey.

"Was that necessary?"

I plopped the heavy book between us.

"It felt like the thing to do."

"I can take up for myself you know."

"So can I."

"You don't need to though. I'm used to it."

"I want to, and you shouldn't be used to getting treated like shit."

"How noble of you. Out to change the world one page at a time." He thumbed through the pages of the heavy book for dramatic effect.

"He touched my boyfriend so I responded in kind. I don't see anything unreasonable there."

"Why don't you tell him that? He keeps looking back here, along with his friends."

"I'm sure I made an enemy or three."

"Just make sure you know what you're doing. We don't have that long left till we graduate. Ain't no need to stir the shit if we ain't gotta."

"Doesn't mean I'm compromising morals for the sake of convenience."

"It's not compromising morals, it's being smart. Why would you willfully invite trouble you could easily avoid? So what if they want to trip me, or shove me around a little? I can take it Ethan, I've taken it for years."

"And that's my fault." He started to interrupt. "No, it is. I saw it take place and I kept my head in that 'It's not my problem' mind set. I was wrong. When people let these idiots get away with this shit they only encourage them to keep being assholes. It has to be shamed out of them. A message has to be sent that this shit won't be tolerated."

"How's the air up there on your high horse?"

"Shut up."

"I think Mr. Sumner's going to pass out."

Mr. Sumner leaned back in his chair with his chin on his chest while Cindy Hawthorne's monotone voice droned on.

"Maybe. To be fair, Renaissance art never was all that thrilling to have read off to you. 'And this is the Mona Lisa, ain't it nice?'" I did my best Cindy impression.

Richey found it funny at least.

Class, as well as the rest of the day, went smooth. Richey and I studied for our various classes some more at my house. I'd only been to his house once. His mother had quietly thanked me, to which I mutely accepted. After that, she stayed in her study while Richey and I watched TV for a couple of hours. We both agreed that it perhaps wasn't best to bring our relationship in her presence if we didn't need to. She may not be willing to kick him out, but it was clear she didn't approve. His brother, Virgil, was rarely seen. The twelve year old son of a slain deputy apparently spent most of his time with the grandparents. Most of our time was spent at my house, or going to cheap restaurants.

The shit has to hit the fan some time though.

"So Lars says to the guy-"

"What's up fag?" Shot from behind my shoulder, instantly cutting off Richey's story.

We were sitting at our new table, minding our own duly processed government meals.

"Go fuck a dog Arthur, at least you'll have an I.Q. match for a change." Richey calmly retorted.

Arthur ignored this statement, choosing instead to place a hand on my shoulder to ask directly to my ear. "What're you doing hanging with this fag Doyle?"

I really wish Lars had been there. He had the flu. Bastard was probably eating soup while watching shitty daytime TV.

Anger festered up within me, boiling like a pot on the stove. Taking note, it occurred to me how close Arthur's nuts were to my elbow. A quick move would result in tears from both sides. Joy from mine, pain from his.

I looked up to meet his eyes, my face remaining impassive. Richey hadn't managed to catch my gaze, though I was somewhat aware of his quiet pleas to keep my cool. What can I say? I don't always listen.

"This 'fag,'" I let the word pour like acid off my tongue. "Is my boyfriend, as a matter of fact."

Arthur's eyes almost leapt out his skull. Every shiny tooth his parents paid for gleamed in his open mouth.

"Boyfriend?" He asked in a stunned voice.

"Correct. And as is my right as an overprotective prick, I demand you apologize for that insult."

"Apologize?!"

"Right again. Look at you, you're on a roll Arthur. This is a nice change of pace for you."

"Fuck you, faggot. I can't believe you of all people crossed over to the rainbow side. Tell me, how's his cock feel up your ass?" He was getting louder, drawing some stares from around the cafeteria. "What's it like being the bitch of a bitch? I bet-"

My elbow shot back into his orbs of imminent destruction. The air whooshed out of his lungs in a pathetic squeal which was only cut off from lack of oxygen. When he doubled over, I grabbed the back of his head and slammed in on the table, holding it there with my hand. He was on his knees next to my chair, holding his nuts with his right ear smashed against the table. His face was squished up from the pressure I was applying.

"Ethan-" Richey warned.

"Calm down Rich. I ain't lost my temper in many a year, and I ain't about to change that today. However, we are going to take this time we've been allowed to clear up a few things. First off," I took a bite out of my chicken sandwich, wanting nothing more than to create some extra time for Arthur's embarrassment. It occurred to me how none of his 'friends' were coming to the rescue. "You're done saying anything negative to Richey. From now on, if you say anything less than 'Good day Mr. Kirk.' I'll be sure to find you and expand on this lesson."

"Secondly, you're to leave me alone. I don't like you. I've never like you. You've treated everyone around here like they owe you something for just being you and I'm sick of it. You're dad's a dentist and your mom's a lawyer. Good for them. You're a piece of shit who couldn't find shit in a sewer. I've never met someone who was as self-centered as you. I'd rather be sodomized with a rusty fishing knife then listen to you talk for another minute."

I paused to take a defiant drink of my apple juice. One hundred percent all natural baby. Not counting preservatives, hormones, donkey piss, and whatever else went in there.

"Finally, the next time I hear of you giving anyone shit for being who they are, whether that be gay, straight, stupid, smart, or fat, I'm going to find you and show you just how much I don't like you. Much like the consequences from number one really. Sorry, I'm not that creative. Richey can think of punishments later. You know, after he fucks my ass. Now run along." I patted the side of his head, then pushed him over onto his side.

He sat back on his ass, legs curled in front of him. His face was red, his eyes much the same with a few clear lines going down his face. The heat coming off his face could've probably melted an iceberg. He looked around to find no one willing to come help him. With an angry huff, he stood up to shout.

"You'll pay for this faggot! This isn't over!" Then he marched out the cafeteria.

I looked over to notice the teachers at the faculty table had incidentally managed to all face the opposite direction. This made me laugh, as I can clearly remember it being otherwise when I'd looked over earlier.

"What the fuck was that?" Richey did not look especially pleased.

"My arm slipped." I went back to my sandwich.

He stared a hole through me as I avoided his gaze. His fingers drummed on the table. The cacophony of noise around us was nothing more than the animated conversation of our fellow classmates, no doubt discussing what they'd just witnessed.

"I thought I told you to keep calm."

"I was calm."

"That you were. You even freaked me out a little."

My head shot up to meet his eyes.

"Baby, you know I'm not a violent guy right? I'd never lay a finger on you if didn't want me to... You know that right?" My voice was going up a little.

His hand slid over to hold mine on the table.

"Chill Ethan. I know, I know." He chanted, trying to get my breathing to steady out again. "I just wasn't expecting you to do what you did."

"Neither did he, else he wouldn't have come over here in the first place."

"I'm willing to bet he keeps a distance for the next little while."

"I wouldn't put it past him to try and get a cheap shot in."

"I wouldn't either. Do me a favor, don't get caught walking out the parking lot alone."

"Not like I've done that in weeks, babe. We've been joined at the hip for a while now."

He grinned. "That's just about the correct area."

"Aw, you're so funny."

"Nice of you to say so."

"Lars is gonna be pissed he missed this."

"Oh Christ, don't remind me. If he hears about this from the rumor mill, you can expect a phone call."

"Filled with 'Oh my god, really!?!' and several giddy little giggles."

"That's Larsen for ya."

Richey let go of my hand to lean back in his chair. We had another ten minutes before the bell. I had the urge to hug him. Why the fuck not? I was now as out as one could get. The only thing that could've made it more so was a t-shirt saying 'I like cock' with a rooster on the front.

Richey's eyebrows drew down as I vacated my seat to walk around the table. I plopped down in the chair next to him. He continued to stare at me funny. My new chair made an awful racket as I scooted it next to his. He shook his head, though he was smiling now, when I slung an arm around his shoulder.

"This doesn't count as PDA, does it?" He asked.

"Hugging is allowed in the school handbook. Even so, nobody gives a fuck, especially not the teachers who managed to miss what the entire cafeteria just saw."

"Yeah, there's no way that was an accident."

"Nope. They all managed to get up and sit on the side facing the wall sometime between the beginning and the end."

"Did they now? I like this place a little more."

"Don't get too used to it. We only have a few months left."

"True that. What're you going to do?"

"I don't know. I've never been the smartest-"

"Babe-"

"No, I'm being honest. I know I'm about the upper side of average when it comes to the brain category. You've got me beat by miles."

"Just because you suck at math and science doesn't mean you're dumber than me. Hell, you know just as much history as I do. Not only that, but you can apply it and expand upon it. You practically try to embody the approach of learning from the fuck ups of others."

"You're completely unbiased, I'm sure."

"As much as I can be."

"What about you? We've never talked about this before."

"We always get distracted." He drew lazy circles on my chest with a finger. I grasped the hand to hold it in my lap.

"I can't imagine by what." He chuckled at this.

"Well, I've given some thought to teaching. The pay sucks though and I can't imagine spending the rest of my life in a high school after trying for so long to escape."

"It's like a convict wanting to become warden."

"Exactly. I'm not as practical or athletic as you, so something along those line is really not an option. Plus, I've seen what manual labor does to the body after thirty years. I'm not fond of the idea of every body part I have screaming in pain just because I tried to tie my shoes at fifty."

"At least you're thinking long term. I'll be honest, I think I'm going to wind up stumbling into a job as opposed to being like everyone else around here who walk around wanting to be a doctor or a lawyer. No one ever says they want to drive a delivery truck or be a store manager. People just fall into that shit, even though it's not that bad."

"True, very true. I've got a cousin who drives for UPS. The work's hard, but they pay fairly well."

"I could picture you being an accountant of some kind, like my mother. You're both good with numbers."

"Yeah, maybe. We got some time to figure it out."

"Nothing like some community college to bide your time with."

"Gives you some time to see what you like without killing yourself with debt."

"Agreed. Who knows, you and I may be stuck together for a while to come."

He smiled softly at me.

"I wouldn't mind that so much, as long as you treat me like the prince I am."

"Don't I do that now?"

"Yes. Good boy."

He pecked my lips briefly, just a chaste kiss. You'd have thought we had shoved each other's tongues down our throats. Gasps came from around us. Girls all gleefully clapped their hands together while their boyfriends looked on in confusion, unsure if they should agree with their lady friends or be the macho man who sneers at such things. Fuck 'em. I don't want a fan club, nor do I care for people who can't think for themselves.

"That little peck may have caused a bigger scene than Arthur's near miss ass-whipping." I said.

"Who cares? The other couples kiss all the time in the hallway. I'll be damned if I'm passing up the opportunity to piss in the wind of public opinion now that I've the chance."

"Some people just love to rock the boat." I smiled.

"Imagine white water rafting if you didn't get wet."

"It'd be boring as hell."

"Exactly. I don't want to drift down the river. This boy likes to make a splash."

"Fine by me babe."

We didn't draw as much attention as we thought inside of Mr. Sumner's class. There were excited whispers to match the stares. No one actually said anything to our faces. Even Stuart Murdock seemed to make a point of avoiding my eyes when I walked past. Good.

"That was downright creepy. I felt like an animal at the zoo." Richey said as we walked to our trucks.

"At least the ones at the zoo get peanuts."

"I'll take Ethan's nuts over peanuts any day of the week."

"That was corny, even for you." We stopped at the driver's side of my truck. "Let's go out tonight. It's Friday, we should take it on the road for a change."

"And do what?" He smiled, silently pleased with my suggestion, though he'd never admit it.

"Dinner and a movie sounds cliché enough to me."

He laughed, then leaned down to kiss me slow. Our tongues dueled for a few seconds of bliss.

"And just where do we go from there?" He asked, a smile planted firmly on his face.

"I'll leave that up to you."

"What if I wanted you to decide?"

"Then we'll figure it out together."

"That's perfect. In fact, that's the best idea you ever had."

We kissed again. The moment didn't last as long as the first one. Another issue plagued my mind.

"I'll pick you up at seven?" I asked.

"Good with me. I'll get some homework done for a change."

His truck left for our neck of the woods with no hesitation. Mine waited until he'd disappeared before turning toward town. I had three hours.

I'd been waiting an hour in the parking lot. The store was only thirty minutes from closing. The car I'd been waiting for pulled up with an annoyed speed. Her hair waived in the breeze as she stepped out. We met at the tailgate of my truck.

"What was so important that I had to leave work early?" She asked, her words running on top of each other in an annoyed tone.

"Can I ask a favor?"

"What kind?" She was suddenly serious. I never asked for favors.

"An expensive one, though not too much so. I just want this to be perfect."

"That leaves a lot of options open honey."

I nodded towards the sign in front of a small store, one of many in this strip mall. Her eyes followed before widening, an 'o' formed with her lips. A hand came up to cover said 'o.'

"Oh, Ethan. You've thought about this for a while, haven't you?"

"Yes. I'm absolutely sure mother."

She hugged me hard.

"I love you so much." Tears soaked into my shirt.

Now, I sat in Richey's driveway. Every nerve ending seemed to be finely tuned. Each hair seemed able to sense the slightest change in the air. My ears felt alive, if that makes any sense. My eyes darted over any object of interest. The passenger door opened, closing with a loud slam. Richey gave me a quick peck before settling in to fasten his seatbelt.

"Where we going?"

"How's Chinese food sound?"

"Like my boy knows how to treat me good."

I laughed. He was completely unaware of how this night would go.

"Turn right." He said.

"Why?"

"I want to go right."

"Well, I'm driving."

"And I'm not. You're my chauffeur."

"Maybe in your dreams."

I started to turn the wheel left to pull out the drive when his hand grabbed the wheel.

"Right."

My breathing picked up.

"Please... don't do this tonight. Let's just have a good time."

"We will have a good time. Fifteen minutes earlier than what's been our normal as of late."

"Rich please..." I begged looking into his eyes. He stared back, eyes full of compassion.

"Tonight's as good as any for facing some fears Ethan."

I looked down, noting the lump in my pocket.

"You may be right."

The wheel turned slowly right. My fingers were solid white throughout the entire drive. Turning onto the road I'd avoided for reasons I didn't want to remember, my entire body seemed to start rebelling. Images came to mind. Blood. All over the pavement, the grass stained forever in my mind. No end to the blood. His body, his body could still be seen. Silently basking in the moonlight, never to be disturbed. I could hear the sirens the closer we got. They got louder, louder, louder still.

Improbably, his voice came to me as we passed the exact spot. Some soul might ask how I could know exactly the spot we were in. It was dark then, it's dark now. I was excited at the time. The answer is simple. The grass hadn't regrown where the shooter had sped off, nor where the tow truck had collected Mr. Kirk's car for evidence. These marks were even with a large oak tree just off the road. That tree would be a permanent marker. The marks were a temporary scar.

Without warning, it was all gone. We'd gone into the bend, making a right this time instead of veering to the left as I had that night. It was all gone just as quickly as it'd came.

"You okay?"

"Fine." I muttered.

His hand made quick work of the tears I hadn't even realized I'd shed with a leftover napkin from my ashtray.

"I knew you could do it. You're stronger than the fear."

Instead of replying, I held his hand to the restaurant.

"What the hell did you order for me again?" I asked.

We were walking back to the truck. The action movie we'd just seen was the standard Hollywood love story between a man and his gun. Explosions completed the picture, as well as plenty of busty females. Truth be told, I woulda wished I'd kept the ten bucks had it just been me. As it was, ten bucks spent on Richey was money well spent.




Stumbling Ch. 07



"Lo Mein. I promise, it was most likely pork in there."

"That or someone's lost dog."

"At least Scruffy tasted good."

"True that."

We stood at the tailgate. Biding my time, I pulled the latch and hopped up on the new seat. I motioned for him to stand between my legs. My arms wrapped around his waist. The box was already in my hand, hidden inside my fist. Damn if it didn't feel like a twenty pound piece of hot iron. 

"You know I love you, right?" I whispered in his ear.

"Yes... where's this going?" His voice trembled slightly.

Slowly, I held my fist up in front of him. My fingers uncurled to reveal the small, velvet box.

"Holy shit..." He said on a large exhale.

"I can get down on one knee, if you'd like."

Abruptly, he grabbed the box. Quickly, he spun around. Firmly, he kissed me.

"Yes! I love you, Yes! WOOOO!!!" He jumped in a circle with his hands in the air a few times. Some people in the parking lot around us gave odd glances.

He ran back into my arms, damn near knocking us flat onto the truck bed. His lips found mine once more.

"It'll take some time, a little money saving as well, before we actually do this thing. I just wanted to stake my claim."

"No need, but I'm not complaining. A long engagement doesn't scare me."

"It may sound corny, ah fuck it, I'll say it anyway. If you're by my side, ain't much around that scares me."

"I love you." He whispered against my lips.

"Me too."

A kiss sealed the deal.

*******

This was something I wrote in what amounts to a few days of writing strung out over several months. I kept getting hung up on certain ideas, then i went on vacation and completely forgot about it for a while. Any who, hope you've enjoyed it. Comments are appreciated, including constructive criticism. To the guy who said, essentially, you suck on one of my other stories: fuck you. I don't mind negative feedback, just make it useful. Other than that, thanks for reading.



Stumbling Towards Sex



"Here's our room, little brother." Cathy pushed the door to her dorm room open and waved him in with a flourish.

"I told you not to call me that here," Matt said. "Give me a little dignity as a prefrosh, please!" He grinned to lessen the sarcasm, hefted his bag, and strode into the room.

It was bigger than he assumed, what with the college horror stories of prison-style closets that passed for living quarters. Cathy's room, on the contrary, seemed downright spacious. There were twin double beds, a couch and lounge chair, a pair of desks pushed together, and even a bookshelf to spare. Various girly paraphernalia lined the walls - inspirational posters, art reprints, calendars, letters. Matt took a long look around and then let his bag crash to the floor at the foot of their sofa.

Cathy closed the door and pointed. "What a coincidence, that's where you're sleeping. We got some sheets and pillows around here somewhere. But what do you want to do first?"

Matt shrugged, a bit overwhelmed. Eighteen and a high school junior (held back a year due to some minor problems in middle school), here he was on university grounds. His cool, if somewhat annoying older sister, invited him up for the weekend to check out college life and just get away from home for a while. Why not, he thought. It beat laying around the house, getting berated for not mowing the lawn.

He looked at his sister, who sat sprawled on one of the beds. Her tank top sported the word "BITCH" in happy, colorful letters. She wore daisy dukes to show off her tanned legs, and a scrunchie pulled her brown hair into a ponytail. In contrast to her smooth curves, he was a guy of bony angles and scraggly hair that shot off in all directions.

"Are you sure I'm not going to be in the way? I mean, you don't have a date with a hot guy or anything this weekend, do you?" he asked.

She giggled. "No, not this weekend. Not with a guy, at least."

"Huh?" Matt wrinkled his forehead.

Cathy rolled her eyes. "Use your imagination. So what shall we do first - tour the campus or get a bite to eat?"

* * * * *

Matt opened his eyes to drink in the darkness. He grew accustomed to the shapes that swam in front of his eyes, although it was strange being in someone else's room. When he'd come back from dinner and clubbing in town, Matt felt like doing nothing but crashing for hours and letting a minor coma sweep over his conciousness. But after a few hours of fevered sleep, he woke feeling not so tired anymore. What time was it? 2? 3? He couldn't view any clock from his angle.

After a minute he realized two facts. One, it wasn't nearly as dark in the room as he originally thought. Shapes formed into furnature with a shade of color to distinguish their identities. And two, it wasn't totally quiet either.

He looked over to the nearest bed, which belonged to Cathy's roomate, Erica. Despite being tired as hell when he came back and Cathy introduced the two, Matt could barely restrain himself from staring at her. Shorter than both Cathy and Matt, Erica came up to the bottom on his nose. She smiled when they shook hands, and Matt recalled admiring her full lips - pink and pouty. Her hazel eyes twinkled as she checked him out in return, her eyes unabashedly traveling up and down his frame. "Not bad, Cath," she said. "He's got potential to be a lady killer."

"Doesn't he?" Cathy agreed. Matt could only keep looking at his sister's gorgeous roomate, who wore (as far as he knew) nothing but the bathrobe that wrapped around her frame. The silk folds did little to hide her full breasts that pressed out on each side, the slide of her waist, the curve of her tight butt. As all guys are wont to do when they meet a pretty girl like Erica, Matt devoted most of his mind's abilities to capturing her image in his head for future manipulation during a masturbation session.

They didn't get to talk much past their handshake, but she did give his fingers a jaunty squeeze before retiring back to the bathroom. Matt fell asleep before she even returned. Exhausted.

Now he glanced at her bed, hoping to see a hint of the beautiful body he saw before. Perhaps he could convince her to join him and Cathy in tomorrow's activities. Yeah, convince her with his impressive juvenile silence, he sighed. But no matter how hard he strained his eyes, he could not see her form, only a pile of rumpled blankets and a comforter. Maybe she went to the bathroom?

That's when Matt noticed the thing about the sound. Like a newly made blind man, he strained his senses and they enhanced the noise. It was... rustling. Sheets crumpling and sliding. Still something else lay beneath that, another sound, much lower in tone. Listening harder, it popped out in his auditory senses and stayed there.

Moaning.

Once he heard it, it was impossible to miss. From his sister's bed came the noises of a female either in pain or pleasure, and it didn't take three guesses to pinpoint which one. Low purrs and growls came from across the room, in the semi-darkness that hid all but the most flagrant of shapes. Was there movement? He knew there must be, but his eyes betrayed him.

Then Matt's mind did a mental blink. His sister's bed. Not across the room, his sister was having sex, or at least being vocal about rubbing herself. At home, sex was a topic that was avoided or clinically discussed, and despite the occasional closeness that Matt shared with Cathy, they had never broached the subject. It'd never crossed his mind that she even had sex, although logically she probably did. And now he had proof of a sort.

Raging curiosity brought Matt from a lying to a crouched sitting position. He made no sound in the movement, but held his breath to see if she noticed. He was curious, yes, but not about Cathy in particular. He'd heard that some people got attracted to their sisters and even did it with them, but Matt had no desire in the least to follow that path. Cathy naked, eh. He'd just go right back to sleep if that were the case. But Cathy having sex... anyone having sex... that stirred his intrigue.

Matt felt his pecker stiffen as he moved to a crouching walk. The noises, low and lusty, advertised sex to his groin. He often fantasized about making a woman moan like that, lying under his body as he did fantastic things to her flesh. He reached down to give his shaft one settling squeeze, which only enraged it further.

Slowly, silently, he tiptoed toward the bathroom. By moving toward the door, he was able to get a better view of the bed an its occupant or occupants. He shook in fierce sexual curiosity and the knowledge that he was spying on something slightly forbidden. Sure, he could claim he was just going to the bathroom, he didn't know anything, but Matt didn't feel confident in his lying abilities. Peeping Tom pervert - a name he didn't care to be called. A step closer, and the limited light in the room opened his eyes to the activities unfolding on his sister's bed.

It was Cathy. She lay on her back, her eyes clamped shut, her hands grasping the pillow under her head as if to keep them from flying into danger. On top of her rocked a figure with its head bent down toward Cathy's breasts. The figure's arms held its torso up, driving more force down on the pelvises thay lay beneath the sliding bedsheets that wrapped over their waists. Cathy hissed and then moaned again, a pleasure spot found and plundered.

Matt watched in rapt fascination as his sister's body was ravaged by the stranger. He managed to hear, once, a slick wet sound that came from beneath the sheets. It all was too much to bear for the teenager - he slid his hand down his belly, under his shorts, and stroked his engorged cock to the scene unfolding in front of his eyes. His mind yammered: this is not porn, this is REAL. Real sex. And it was driving him wild, the mere thought of it coupled with the sight and sound. His hand moved faster, sliding the skin of his penis up and down the length of his shaft, pleasure buzzing out from his groin to all points north, south, east and west.

Perhaps he was too loud in his movements, maybe it's just the sixth sense people have even when they're otherwise occupied. But at that moment every muscle in Matt's body froze as Erica said, clear as day, "Gee, Cath, looks like we're being watched."

Two thoughts: Erica? and Caught!

Cathy turned her head, her eyes opening to meet Matt's. He was hugely aware of his hand under his shorts, clamped around the largest erection he could remember having. Embarrassing was too mild a term. "Oh gee, hi Matt," she said between deep breaths. "Enjoying the view?"

"I-I-I'm so sorry..." he stammered out. He felt his eyes widen like a deer in headlights.

"Ohhh," Erica said, falling to Cathy's side and wrapping an arm around his sister's waist. "Don't be sorry, Matt. You're too cute to be scared like this. We don't hate you, do we, Cath?"

Cathy tried to look stern for a minute, then clicked on a bedside lamp and smiled kindly at her brother. Matt found the courage to disengage his hand from his rapidly-deflating cock and bring it out of his shorts. In the light, everything was so much clearer. Both of the girls were entangled under the sheets, with a sheen of sweat coating their upper bodies. Hair was mussed up, chests heaving, and lipstick smeared along the side of Cathy's face. He looked down at Erica's torso pressed against Cathy's side, her swollen tits brushing up against his sister's smaller buds. It was, Matt thought, the most beautiful sight he'd ever been privilaged to see.

"No, we don't hate you Matt," Cathy said. "It's okay, I'd be curious myself in your position." Matt let out a deep breath of anxiety, but stayed standing still.

Erica reached up to fondle one of Cathy's breasts. Her fingers rolled the stiff nipple in and out between soft fingers. "Mmm... I'm still horny Cath," she said. "Shit, I haven't even cum yet."

Cathy leaned up to kiss her on her cheek, then fully on the lips. The two girls kissed passionately for a few seconds, their heads and Erica's fingers moving with increased fevor. Finally they broke. "I've got a few orgasms left in me too," Cathy said. "Would be a shame to stop..."

Erica looked over and winked at Matt, whose body summoned the nerve to sport an erection again. "Well, if the boy wants to watch," she said. "I don't mind if you don't."

Cathy giggled again, girlish and innocent in spite of her naked and sexed appearance. "Fine. Hey Matt, come sit over here and whip that bad boy out." She motioned to Erica's bed, which sat a couple feet away from her own. After a brief pause - what else to do but go? - Matt found himself walking, lowering his boxers, and sitting on the bed with legs spread toward the coeds.

Cathy whistled, Erica raised her eyebrows. "Damnnnn boy," Erica said. "The ladies must love you with that thing!"

Matt grinned in reflex. "Really? Is it good-sized? Nobody's ever told me."

Cathy propped herself up on an arm, and Erica took advantage of the new position by kissing her lover's shoulders and upper back. "That's got to be, what, six and a half, seven inches?" Cathy asked. Erica made an affirmative noise. "Matt," she continued. "It's not long, but that's one of the thickest cocks I think I've ever seen, and I've seen a lot!"

"Tramp," Erica laughed, which earned a raspberry from Cathy.

"I think he'd split open any woman fortunate enough to fuck him, what do you think?" Cathy turned from looking at Matt's groin and kissed Erica again. Their below-sheets movements started to grow faster once more. Erica groaned as Cathy bit her earlobe, then sucked and nibbled her way down the shorter girl's neck.

Once again, Matt's hand found the hot, rigid form of his shaft, and slowly pumped it up and down as he watched the undulating bodies. He grew increasingly frustrated by not being able to see anything below their waists... maybe time to be bold?

"Excuse me," he said. The two girls didn't stop their motions, but did look at him as he stepped forward and threw the sheet off their bodies. Matt sat back down on the bed, satisfied.

"Animal!" Erica mock scolded. Matt didn't mind. He had full view of Erica and his sister's legs, ass, and soft supple folds of sex. As Erica once again resumed the top position, her left leg slid into the valley formed by Cathy's spread legs. Cathy moaned loudly as Erica's thigh found her pussy, and she raised her hips to grind her clit against the sleek skin of her lover's leg. In turn, Erica lowered her own dripping pussy - Matt could easily see the wetness that coated their upper legs glistening in the light - onto Cathy's leg, and began to slide her lower body up and down Cathy's muscled thigh.

Cathy reached up to grab one of Erica's breasts, and pulled it toward her open mouth. Lips found soft skin and sucked it in; tongue found a stubborn nipple and ran circles around the sensative spot. Erica cooed happily. "Oh yeah... suck my tits, baby!"


Their own wet sliding was joined by frantic slaps made by Matt's frenzied hand. While one hand jerked his cock with increasing tempo, his other fondled and pulled on his hardening balls. He soon realized that he would cum any minute... But as his sister began to have her own orgasm, he couldn't summon any more control. Cathy rose from the bed, her body arching as she pressed her pussy against her partner's leg, and then thrashed about as the orgasm swept over her body. Her head twisted to the left and right, shrieking quietly with every intake of breath, moaning "shit fuck shit fuck" as she exhaled. Matt could see her body's muscles quiver and contract, and that was when he came.

From a few feet away, the massive orgasm that built up in his balls had no trouble making the distance to the girls' bed. Streams of cum - hot and sticky - flew wildly over the bodies of the writhing girls. He couldn't control it; in fact, his fist was pumping faster than ever, building the orgasm up to new and more exquisite heights. The cum landed on Erica's back, Cathy's chest, Cathy's... lips. He saw this and a small part of his mind grew embarassed again, but he felt so damned good he didn't care. If anything, his cumming turned the girls on more, who took advantage of the thick liquid and rubbed it into each other's skin as they continued to hump and grind.

After a minute, Matt felt his body recover, and that was about the time the girls disengaged from their pretzel position. Fearing that the experience was over, Matt got up to slink back off to bed.

"Hold on there," Erica said with a smile. "You don't get a free show without giving a little back, you know." Matt stopped again, uncertain what he should do.

"My turn on bottom," Erica told Cathy, who seemed too satisfied that she'd agree with anything. Erica stretched out on the bed while Cathy kneeled by her. "What do you want me to do, beautiful?" Cathy said, looking down at her wet lover.

"I want...," Erica began, shuddering as a minor orgasm rippled through her body. "I want Matt over here so I can handle that monster cock of his, and I want you to spread my legs, fuck me with your fingers, and eat my pussy out with your lovely lips."

Brother and sister moved into action. Matt walked over to the side of the bed, within grabbing distance of Erica's hands. Her hand wasted no time cupping his balls, then sliding up to embrace his cock with her cool fingers. She gently yanked on his member, her hand sliding up and down the semihard shaft, aided further by the dribblings of cum that fell onto his groin. Matt stood there, luxurating in the touch of this stunning girl, feeling her fingers manipulate and tease his cock.

He grew harder when he looked down at his sister, who was following Erica's instructions to the fullest. She'd taken both of Erica's legs, palm against inner thighs, and spread them apart until they could go no further. Erica's shaven pussy lay open to the cool air, and unfolded at the touch of one of Cathy's fingers running from her clit to her anus and back. Matt thought that Erica's pussy appeared to open by itself and attempt to swallow the roaming digit. Finally, Cathy looked Erica in the eye and thrust two fingers deep inside, sinking her third knuckle past the swollen pussy lips. Erica hissed and instinctively grabbed Matt's cock tighter, making it throb fiercely.

"Does that feel good?" Cathy said with a hint of power in her voice. To drive her point home, she retracted the intruding fingers, then rammed them in deep again. Matt heard the wet sucking sounds of Erica's pussy being violated. Erica could only shake her head and moan yes, more, more. Cathy leaned down, her breasts brushing up against the sheets of the bed, and extended her tongue toward the other girl's clit. Erica hummed in anticipation, then melted as the warm wet tongue flicked and tasted her hard bud.

Cathy then fell into the activity with a vengeance. Her hand flew in and out of the girl's pussy, her mouth eating and sucking any exposed parts as if tasting a gourmet meal. Matt found his cock being jacked and stroked at a wildly fast rate, pulling his entire body closer toward Erica. Apparently this was the plan, as Erica leaned up and pulled his cock toward her mouth.

This is how Matt ended up with his hard cock in the mouth of a bisexual girl he'd just met a few hours ago. Twitching as Cathy found all her sensative spots, Erica did her best to widen her mouth and take Matt's shaft into her. A few inches, than an inch more, and Matt found half of his cock devoured by the sex-crazed girl. She sucked and tongued him, as his hips moved on their own to thrust past her lips. It wasn't enough; the animal part that spoke so loudly in his mind wanted to grab her head and fuck her mouth fully, forcing her to take his thick cock all the way to the base. But Matt knew she probably couldn't take it and restrained himself from doing so. Still, it felt good, very good, and the sight of this incredibly sexy girl going down on him was enough to almost make him cum.

Erica disengaged from his cock after a minute. "Fuck, you are the large one, aren't you." She grinned up into his eyes, pausing only a second to gasp as Cathy took her clit into her mouth and sucked hard. "I think," Erica said. "I'm going to have to experience this to the fullest."

She called down to Cathy, who was oblivious in the pursuit of pleasuring her lover. "Hey Cath, wanna sit on my face for a while? I think junior here wants to fuck me. And I think I want to fuck him too."

Cathy lept up. She moved up to Erica's head and straddled her mouth so quickly that Matt got the impression that this was Cathy's favorite part. And so it was - not even a second after her pussy lowered down onto the pouty lips of her roomate, Cathy bucked in ecstacy as her sex was penetrated by a probing tongue.

Left on his own but with a clue, Matt took the spot vacated by his sister. His cock throbbed with the pulse that beat in his temples... no fantasy could ever compare to the opportunity he was being given here. He kneeled over Erica's spread legs, her wet thighs and dripping pussy, and relished the sight of his cock mere inches away. This was it. He was going to do it.

"Geez little bro," Cathy said gasping. "Fuck her already! Trust me, she needs it. And don't hold back, either. Just ram that sucker in like there's no tomorrow."

Matt shifted forward with his cock extended, and then pulled back as the head slipped and ran up against her clit instead of going inside. Still, it earned a muffled groan from Erica. He tried again, taking more time to push his cock toward the pink opening. It took this time, and Matt definitely felt the head of his penis being grasped by muscles and velvet skin. It was so easy... Erica was soaked, and an easy motion sent his cock plunging inside, sliding all the way in to the base. He felt her pussy walls, tight and slick, stretch as his cock invaded. This time Erica did more than groan, she literally jumped as his cock filled the dark wet confine of her sex.




Stumbling Towards Sex



Matt didn't spend much time analyzing the sensation of his shaft being enveloped in this warm cocoon... he would cum soon, moving or not, and he'd rather she got something out of it. It came naturally: he lifted up, and his shining cock slid most of the way out. He paused so that her pussy would contract in its absence, then bucked his hips and drove in, fucking her deeply and with force. As Cathy advised, he did not hold back. Every muscle in his body was straining to put as much thrust into each plunge as he could possibly muster. His cock slammed into her, his pelvis ground up against hers, her body got pushed backwards with each fuck, her head and mouth jerked against Cathy's cunt. As Matt sped up, he observed his sister's reaction. She's feeling my thrusts, he thought, through Erica's mouth.

Sister grinned at brother, both of them fucking and being fucked by the same girl. Cathy extended a hand toward Matt; he joined it with one of his. They held hands as they both came, Matt bursting inside of Erica's tight pussy, Cathy clamping her thighs around Erica's head as she shivered and drenched the girl's mouth. Muffled groans became savage grunts and raspy breaths. With declining thrusts and peaks of orgasm, Matt felt his still-moving cock to be swimming in a sea of cum and pussy juice, wet and hot and soothing as his member jerked those few last times. The entire room smelled of hot sex. Matt laughed in pleasure, followed by Cathy, and then the newly freed Erica. Erica lay there, wet all over, but clear liquid running down her face and white cum dripping between her thighs. She looked used and sated.

Utterly spent in his first big orgy, Matt stumbled off to the nearest haven: Erica's bed. He fell asleep smelling her sweet scent on the pillow, watching the two girls wrap around each other and begin to kiss and grind anew.