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My Debate Partner

by Joel Young

Chapter 10

Stupid? Or An Inspired Idea?

I have always been the kind of person who experiences emotions intensely. If I'm happy, I'm joyous. If I'm down, I'm seriously depressed. Some people say I'm too sensitive. That may be true, but it doesn't help me to change. I simply feel what I feel, and controlling my feelings, including my sexual excitement, has never been easy for me.

I didn't see David until third hour the next morning. As he came in the room, confident as ever, I was struck once again with how handsome he was. I fell in love with him all over again. Just looking at him made me short of breath. "Get a grip," I thought to myself.

He took his normal seat next to me and pretended not to notice I was there. No one was paying any attention to us, nor was anyone close enough to hear us. I let him play his game.

Finally, he turned toward me, and in mock formality said, "Hi, I'm David. Do I know you?"

"Yes, but primarily in the Biblical sense," I answered.

"That's where I know you from," he exclaimed in a dramatic, but hushed tone. "You're that cute guy with a runny nose from Sunday afternoon."

I wanted to hit him. Instead, I covered my blushing face with my hands and tried unsuccessfully not to laugh.

"Don't choke, now," he said.

"Stop it," I pleaded with my hands still covering my face. "Not here!" I took a deep breath and forced myself to stop laughing. I finally succeeded, but I still had with the mental image of David's beautiful, erect cock rubbing against my face. I was flushed and hard before the bell ever rang. "Look what you've done to me!" I complained.

He noted my red face. He looked at the bulge in my pants. He noticed I was short of breath. Then, he held his right hand up and bent his four fingers forward as if to inspect his fingernails. He raised his fingernails to his mouth and breathed on them before lowering his hand to his shirt and pretending to polish his nails. He smiled at me with a smug, satisfied grin, the meaning of which was clear: "See, I can do that to you anytime I want."

I managed to call him an arrogant bastard under my breath before class started. Although I pretended to listen to Mrs. Weber lecture on the finer points related to the rules of evidence, I couldn't concentrate. Halfway through the class, I decided I must be a sex addict. One look from David and I lost all of my ability to function academically.

I managed to get through the day, and finally, the last period ended. Unfortunately, I had a major test to prepare for in US History the next day. David and I walked the mile and a half to our subdivision, and he invited me into his house. Both of his parents were still at work.

We were barely in the door when he attacked me. We made love in his living room on the floor. This time, he wouldn't let me touch him intimately until he had ravaged my body completely and left me almost unconscious – a pulsating, exhausted animal barely able to think. I decided to return the favor. When we were done and cleaned up, I had to go home and study.

By 8:00 p.m., I had finished dinner, and I completed my History homework. My mind couldn't take anymore studying, and I was fairly sure I'd do well on tomorrow's test. Having attended to the necessary business of the day, I allowed myself to start work on the plan I'd thought of while running with my dad the previous night. I wasn't sure if my plan was a stupid waste of time or an inspired idea, so I kept it to myself.

I called both the local and college libraries and inquired if they had copies of the New Paradigms Newsletter. Neither subscribed to the publication, and they had no record of any Michigan library having it in their collections. The college library, however, was able to give me the name and address of the publisher. I wrote a letter asking for information - what libraries in my area subscribed and the availability of back copies. I mentioned my particular interest in their issue that included the interview with the former Director of the US Treasury, and I included a self-addressed stamped envelope. I was hoping the publisher might send me a photocopy of the article. I mailed the letter on my way to school the next morning.

I didn't hear from the New Paradigms Newsletter in October, nor in November. Finally, my letter drifted to the back-burner in my memory, and I stopped thinking about my plan.

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