The Boyfriend

I heard a quiet laugh and saw him move back up the row. He approached
one of the cars, and leaned forward to talk to someone. Just they way
he stood and talked told me they knew one another.

He looked back at me, and then a head was stuck out the window and
this other not-so-older guy looked my way, and I could hear them both
laughing. I sat there, fuming. Just what was so damned funny? Were
they so old they couldn't remember what it was like the first time?
Weren't they ever eighteen and so horny they didn't know what else to
do? Or maybe they did remember, and it was the memory of their own
nervousness that triggered their laughter. I smiled a bit then, and
shook my head. If nothing else, they’d both just helped me to relax.
It also ticked me off enough to make a decision.

I checked the face and hair in the mirror. Great tan, I thought, and
those high-lights in my normally dishwater hair were great. I’d worn a
white A&F polo (not too baggy, and not too long I hoped; I had enough
problems trying to look over fifteen), and I’d spent some time picking
out a pair of shorts that were just right. Not long, not the shapeless
cargo shorts everybody (including me) wore. These were a pair of red
running shorts, cut a bit high. I’d skipped underwear, but they had a
nice jock in the crotch to keep the goods from flopping around too
much, but loose enough to allow for easy access if The Moment ever
came. Cotton, too. That silky, synthetic stuff manufacturers use looks
good and feels nice, and hangs right in all the best places just the
right way, but eeeeeeeewwwwwwwwwwwww they hold in the heat and the
sweat. I didn't want someone to get a whiff and gag on me. Well, yeah,
gagging was ok maybe, but I didn't want them doing it because of the
smell. I’d debated wearing a hat, but today my hair was an asset and I
wanted it on display. Sandals sounded like a kewl idea and looked
good, until I thought about the woods. I dug out a pair of plain white
Nikes.

I’d tried out my "casual" act in front of the full-length mirror at
home, leaning and standing different ways, trying out different
expressions that would make me look cool and sexy. Everything from
Aguilar Sultry Sex Pot to Brendan Behr Naiveté. Of course, I looked
ridiculous.

Then there were the "enhancements'. At one point I even tried out a
sock in the crotch thinking that might help some. That just made me
look ridiculous and deformed. Besides, a casual brush of the hand
would tip off anyone only interested in size that I was faking it. In
the end, I decided it was pointless trying these things out, so I just
settled for what I thought would make me look kind of hot which was
just how I was, and aside for a pair of small silver hoop earrings
(can't I just remember the bitching when I came home with those on the
first time) left everything else the way it was. I figured, if I could
walk and talk and not trip over my tongue, I’d do just fine.

Except I wasn't doing just fine.

The twilight turned to night, and the cars came and went at a steady
stream. I could see shadows slipping into the woods. A few times I
could hear someone let out a deep moan not more than a few feet from
me. I could see the guys walking, leaning against the hoods of their
cars, sitting on picnic tables. Sometimes they paired up and talked
and moved on. Sometimes they got into each of their cars and drove
off. A few just got into the car of one or the other and then you’d
see a head suddenly disappear, and the car wobble. Others drifted into
the woods, while others came out hurriedly and drove off. Some
actually peeled out. Me, I sat in my cramped Toyota, trying to get up
the nerve just to open the door and step into the night. I’d been
thinking of doing that for over an hour now. Then suddenly I did, and
was standing beside my car, kicking the door shut. I shuffled over and
plopped myself down on the hood. There must have been thirty-five cars
in here now, all single occupancy, parked on either side of the
driveway and pulled up onto the grass when the strip narrowed down. I
glanced at the woods, but decided I wasn't that nuts. I'm only 5'6",
and while 90% of the guys in here were gay (or so they said) I didn't
much want to wind up running into one of the minority who thought it
might be fun to beat up on a small gay guy. Yes, I HAVE heard of
Matthew Shepherd, thank you. And while what I was doing wasn't all
that smart or all that safe, there were limits to just how dumb I was
going to be. I wasn't about to wander from my car. And no matter how
horny I was (and believe me, I was) I was NOT going to go running into
those woods, or just jump at the first guy who made a move. We would
talk for some first, get to know each other a little. Being friends is
important, right? Oh, sure, I was looking for friendship. Then, after
a while...

"Hey, stud."

I jerked upright from my seat on the hood. "Huh?"

A silhouette stepped out of the darkness. Then some of the moonlight
hit his face, and I could make out his features. Not bad, I thought.
Bigger than me, but who wasn't? Maybe mid-twenties, nice build.
Strange build though--- muscular arms and chest, real narrow at the
waist but skinny legs. Tats and no shirt. VERY small cut offs. Work
boots? Well, weird but kind of cute. He leered at me, and he stopped
being so cute. "Jesus baby, you just out of grade school?" He had a
rough, harsh voice I didn't take to.

"I'm eighteen!"

He nodded, and his eyes raked over me. "Uh, huh. Nice an’ legal.
Young, hung, and full of...." He grabbed my dick.

I panicked, tried to pull myself back but he was all over me in a
second, blocking my escape and almost face to face. I could smell
beer, and sweat... and something ugly. No, his face wasn't ugly,
anything but. But his attitude was. And his voice got harsher. "C'mon
baby, let’s go into them woods and I can show you the best time you'll
ever have."

"...um..."

He chuckled. "Whatsa matter, baby? Little chicky boi afraid of the
big, hung stud?"

I tried pushing him away, but he was all over me with his hands and
his face was only inches from mine. "Look... please.... "

"Yeah, you'll be saying please," he said and leaned his face closer
and took a nip on my nose. "Please sir, go deeper." Then my chin.
"Please sir, go harder." He bit my lower lip. "Please sir, pass me to
your friends. So, you ready for some real action kid?"

I was scared, more scared than I’d ever been of anything else. He had
both my wrists pinned to the hood, leaning me back so I could get no
leverage on him. My legs were spread and he pressed himself straight
into my crotch, kicking my feet wider to throw me off balance. I was
leaned back over the hood and there was no way I could bring a knee up
to hit anything that would do any good. "Come on chicken boy, give
your new daddy a kiss..."

He was airborne. I didn't know how, I didn't know why. I didn't care.
I saw him jerk back suddenly, rise up, and fly into the side of a
trash bucket.

I stood there shaking for a few seconds and came to one of the better
decisions I would make that night. I got back into my car and did my
best to make the Tercel leave its first patch of rubber, ever. Aside
from a quick check to see if I’d wet myself (I hadn't), the only thing
I did was drive the thirty-odd miles back to Haverhill as quickly as I
could. I screeched to a halt in the drive-way and hit the ground
before the engine even died, and ran inside, fumbling the lock and
looking over my shoulder. Common sense told me the freak was still
back on Rte 3 wondering what the hell had hit him, but another part of
me wanted the safety of my house, of my bedroom, of my bed, and my
covers pulled up over my head. I slammed and locked the door behind me
in one move, and leaned against it panting. Then I staggered into the
kitchen, shaking, and opened the fridge and grabbed a beer. I never
did much care for the stuff, still don't, but I wanted something that
might give me a buzz, and I didn't have a clue how mixed drinks
worked. Beer you just opened and swilled. Swilling was good. That was
safe, that was easy.

I checked the clock in the kitchen. Only 9:45. Two and a half hours
ago I’d looked at that same clock and swore the next time I saw it, I
wasn't going to be a virgin any more. Right now, I was thankful I was
breathing. I just sat and drank. I almost stopped shaking when I heard
a knock at the door.

I froze.

Jesus, how the hell did he find me?

Another knock, just a bit louder than last time, followed by one of
those almost-shout whispers.

"Chris?"

If it was my buddy from the rest area, his voice had a familiar tone
to it although I couldn't quite place it. I knew the voice, just not
well.

I slowly narrowed the distance between the door and me. I could see a
large frame outlined by the porch light. Hesitation. Terror? Oh yeah,
terror. I pulled back the sheer hanging there and looked out. I knew
that face and I sighed in relief. It was Jamie Levesque, not my
attacker, thank God. I knew him from school, but far from well. We
traveled in different circles. We never had any problems but we never
spoke much, either. He was in a few of my classes, too. What the hell
was he doing here?

I opened the door, trying to smile, trying not to shake. As soon as it
opened he grabbed my shoulders with both hands, gripping my shoulders
so hard in those incredibly big hands of his it hurt. He leaned down
some (6'2", remember?) and looked me directly in the eyes.

He spoke in that odd voice of his, a low register with a breathless
quality. Remember the classic, dumb-jock Dauber on TV a few years ago?
Jamie sounds like that. Somehow, when he went to speak, the first
sound you expected to hear was "duh." A lot of people hearing him,
seeing him for the first time always assumed 'just another dumb jock'
but in reality Jamie was smarter than most.

"Chris? Buddy, are you ok?"

I never really knew what flabbergasted was until that moment. My
throat was dry, my voice raspy. "Well ... yeah ... why shouldn't I
be?" What's up with this?

Relief registered on his face. "When that guy grabbed you I thought he
hurt you is all, and I had to make sure you were all right."

Panic. Jamie had seen me? Omigod. Quick, think of a reason to be
there.

Jamie caught the look on my face and smiled. "Don't worry Chris, he
won't be able to hurt you again. Or anyone else for that matter, at
least for awhile." His hands were still on my shoulders, gripping me.
Totally unexpected, he pulled me to his chest and hugged me close, so
close I had trouble breathing. "Jesus, I'm so glad you're ok."

I was confused, and still scared, and was having a little trouble
breathing from the bear hug I was getting, so I tried pushing this
hulk back. "What are you talking about Jamie? Umm, I mean, I’ve been
home all night..." I started, unconvincingly.

He eased me back, but his arms were still on my shoulders. He was
grinning, and there was mischief in his eyes. "C'mon, Chris. I know
that car out there, and the hood's still hot from screamin’ down the
highway. And if someone else was drivin’ it, damn if he wasn't dressed
same as you. And damn if he didn't LOOK just like you."

Trapped. I was about to be outed. I knew that. One of the reasons I’d
driven almost thirty miles to Rte 3 was the hope of avoiding anyone
from Haverhill. There's a good, cruisy spot here in town by the river,
and there's a big gay dance club on Water Street I could have at least
hung around if not in. But of course, that meant I could have been
spotted oh, so easy and I was oh, so ready NOT to come out. Just over
the state line on I-93 was another rest area that was the same
story—way too close. Rte 3 is remote for us, and that far south and
west is completely out of the way for anyone from here. I was busted,
big time, and I knew it.

One hand cupped my chin gently and he tilted my head up to his. Jamie
had this big ass smile on his face, his eyes glowed in his head.
"Don't worry babe, its cool. I was there for the same thing."

I stepped back and stared.

He looked at the beer on the table and his eyebrows went up. "Got
another one of those?"

"Um, yeah, hold on." I popped another cold one for him.

Jamie sipped and nodded. "LaBatts. Good stuff." He sipped again, and I
grabbed my can and guzzled. "Hey, easy. I know you don't hang with the
booze crew so that stuff’ll kick your ass fast."

I opened another can for myself, and took him into the living room. I
dropped to the center of the couch. He slid in next to me, closer than
he should have.

He seemed relaxed. I was still scared out of my mind, my third shock
of the night. I looked at Jamie. How could this guy be gay? He was
built solid. He had a reputation for being one of the nicest guys at
school, which I had to admit was true, because even though we weren't
really friends, whenever we’d spoken he’d always been nice to me. He
even slammed a guy who was giving me a hard time when we were
freshmen. The guy was a junior, but he never bothered me again, and no
one ever messed with Jamie after that. That included the guy he
slammed, who actually got him into one of the better cliques at
school. Girls fell on Jamie, but he joked with the guys that he had
plans… and staying in Haverhill raising a kid wasn't one of them. They
left him alone when he didn't nail them. Jesus, he played football
too. He'd done some hockey for a while, but passed on it after
sophomore year. I mean, that was what I heard anyway. It wasn't like
he and I ever discussed it, or anything else for that matter. Now.
here he was, sipping a beer with me, sitting next to me on my couch --
rather closely on my couch -- and he’d basically told me he was gay.

I gave it a shot. "So, you were there for the same thing? You had to
take a leak?"

He gave me a look I can't describe but it said volumes. "Chris, you
don’t sit in your car for an hour an’ a half thinking of taking a
leak. I saw you pull in. I was parked up on the grass, way on the
left. And I KNOW your car, Chris. We were both there for the same
reason. I'll spell it out if I have to. We were both looking for a
guy. A guy to have sex with."

I was silent, starting to shake some; yeah, I was that scared. Then I
felt his arm across my shoulders, and suddenly Jamie Levesque was very
close and very much in gentle contact with me. I looked up into his
face and saw nothing like the fear I felt, just deep concern
and...what else? His arm across my back felt good. His large fingers
suddenly caressing my cheek felt even better. He leaned into me, and I
felt his full lips brushing lightly against mine. It was the best
feeling I ever had.

Don't ask me what happened next. We were flat out on the couch,
angling around each other. I was trying to yank him on top of me and
he was doing his damndest not to crush me. Then we were on the floor,
and I was on top of him. We both started laughing. I jerked up, and
with a jolt of pain sent the coffee table over a few feet and then
fell off him, still laughing. Suddenly, I felt something cold
dribbling down. The beers had spilled, and I was drenched with it.
Jamie was grinning ear to ear, as he took off his black tee and
started mopping up first the carpet, then the table.

"C'mon," I said. "Upstairs."

He pointed to the spot. "But the rug. Your mom...."

"Would just wonder where the clean spot came from. Besides, they're
coming to do the carpets down here tomorrow, anyway."

"So -- you said upstairs -- does that mean?" his eyebrows shot up.

I swallowed hard and licked my lips. "Damn right it does. Unless you
don't want to....."

"NO! I mean, YEAH! I mean..... aw, hell, I don't know what I mean."

I sniggered. "Well, I do. Upstairs and to the left."

"Your parents..."

"Are up at Lake Winnipesauke for the weekend. Won't be back till late
Sunday," I said in as level a voice as I could muster, trying to drag
him forward with my eyes.

Then he startled me. He picked me up in his arms like I was a five
year old, grinning at me like a six year old, and up the stairs we
went.

We stood in the door way to my room, stepped in, and he eased me down.
I wrapped an arm around him, and he leaned down to kiss me again—not
full tongue and mouth like the last turned into, but just a sweet
kiss. I took his hand, and led him to the bed, a double. I could tell
he was pleased it was a double looking at it. I tried to picture us in
my old single. I snickered. Jamie looked at me questioning and I told
him what I was thinking. He laughed.

"Please. That's like a guy at U-Mass Lowell I was seeing for awhile.
Bunk beds, even. He had the upper bunk."

I was shocked. "You mean you guys... with a room mate... "

He shook his head. "Just when his roomie was out of town, or not
coming back till late."

I tried to picture it, and giggled. All that -- meaning Jamie -- and
another guy, in a narrow upper bunk? I looked Jamie over again. No
shirt this time, just his powerful chest, and I was fascinated with
his nipples. They were rock hard and standing out. I wanted to taste
those, pinch those, and finger those... I reached into my pocket
deliberately, and trying for nonchalance, emptied the contents. A
string of Sheiks. Then several small "personal- sized" tubes of KY. I
was sending a message here, and I wanted to make sure it was read.

Jamie read very well, and ran his fingers slowly up my rib cage, but
he shook his head. "I don't use those," he said.

I stepped back. "Look, Jamie, I'm sorry..."

"Because I need these," he added, and reached into the pocket of his
black jeans and pulled out several black packets and handed them to
me. Condoms I saw, but a bigger package. I looked at the gold
lettering on the black plastic. 'Ultra Magnum.' I felt the size of the
ring and this time it was my eyebrows that shot up.

He had a shy look on his face. "Yours would just split open on me,
Chris. I mean, I'm clean and all, no worries there, but still..."

I swallowed hard. "I've never... I mean... "

“Oh,” he said sadly. Then he snapped up. "We don't have to do it that
way."

I shook my head "Oh, yes. We do," I stated firmly.

He picked up a smooth wooden cylinder, about ten inches long with a
tapered, rounded end. I’d sanded it very smooth, and coated it heavily
with urethane. He was smiling. "I got something like this at home," he
said with a smirk. Then he looked at me with that killer grin of his
again. "I guess you're not a complete virgin, huh?"

I smiled some myself just then. "The net’s a wonderful thing. Funny
what ideas you can pick up on the Web," I said innocently.

"Not to mention along the highway. ‘It's Only Me From Across The
Sea’?"

I giggled. The stories there were okay, but his instruction manual for
the beginner were great. "Yeah, but he suggested starting with a
candle. I've had to move on."

Jamie stripped his pants off and stood in front of me in his shorts.
His look was different, very serious. So was his voice. "Now, listen.
If you want it this way, okay, we can try. If you don't think you can
handle it, we stop, even if I'm all the way in. Even if I'm almost
there, you call it and we stop. The last thing I want to do is hurt
you. You say the word. And if I think you're holding back, we stop
anyway. I don't want to be taking you to the hospital for internal
bleeding."

I cocked my head, trying to sound and look more confident than I felt.
"Awfully conceited about yourself, aren't you?"

He kicked his boxers off.

"Still think I'm conceited?" he said, smirking.

My jaw dropped, and my eyes bulged. I know that damn Adam’s apple of
mine bobbed. I just hoped the Magnum's were big enough. * * * * *

The first time I heard someone talk about it, I just shrugged and
figured it was just something someone said, nothing that was really
possible, and even though I was too young then to understand what they
were saying and had no concept of what gay was, it sounded interesting
to me as an idea. Later on, when I did understand things like gay, I
still wondered if it was possible. Then one day on the net, I found
out just how possible it was. I had thousands of pictures on my hard
drive, showing just how possible it was, and that a lot of men liked
doing it. And receiving it. Myself, I liked the whole idea of it, but
I was fascinated with the receiving end of things. From the first
moment I saw the image appear slowly in my AOL browser, proving that
men could do exactly that to each other, I began looking at the guy on
the bottom, and thinking how much I wanted to be him. I read the
stories, and gleaned information about how to ease into it. Some
websites offered very clear and explicit instructions on just how a
young, virgin male could best prepare himself to receive. I practiced
with a self-made dildo, that wooden cylinder. I enjoyed the feelings I
had when it was inside me as I slowly stroked myself. I know when I
used it, I always came heavier. I understood how to relax my muscles,
and learned to push down and not tighten up. Any average guy I could
have probably taken easily, if slowly. But Jamie was very definitely
not average. Even for an experienced man, taking Jamie would be a very
slow, and careful, process.