I could feel his soft warm breath gently brushing across the side of my face. It was morning, but I didn't want to open my eyes…just a few more minutes of precious sleep. Then I felt his wet tongue tentatively flick my nose, I giggled. Encouraged, he snuggled in against me and ran a sloppy wet tongue full up across my lips!
"Ugh, Winston, that's gross…are you trying to French kiss me??!! Are you gay?" Winston grunted and came in for another lick. I pushed him back, rolling him away from me in the bed. But he just jumped up and came on in full attack mode now that he knew I was awake. I grabbed him and giggled as I wrestled his 45 pound bulk, rolling him on his back (he has no core!). Suddenly, the pain shot through my leg, reminding me of my injury.
"Ow, ow…oh shit!" I cried. Winston froze immediately and whimpered. Nudging my side with his nose, trying to make me better…sending me puppy good health vibes. I reached out, scratching his ears. "It's ok boy, not your fault. I forgot about my damn knee. Lemme get my brace on and then we can get up."
I threw back the covers, briefly burying my bulldog Winston—named for Winston Churchill of course—under my down duvet and looked down at my cast leg. It'd almost been three weeks since the accident. Three, long, boring, frustrating weeks. According to my doctor, the three most common knee injuries involve fractures, dislocations, and tears of soft tissue, like ligaments—me, I'd hit the fucking trifecta during our last gymnastics meet of the year. To add insult to injury, I had been ahead in points and the horizontal bar was one of my best events when the disaster struck. 'Never seen an equipment failure like that' they all said, not much more comfort for the kid that was catapulted off to the side when the bar came loose. I'd almost landed on my feet, but folding chairs got in the way. When I came to I was in the ambulance, pain shooting up my leg.
Now I was looking at a whole summer of being laid up, followed by physical therapy. The doctors were "cautiously optimistic" that I could compete again in the fall—but would only say "we'll see how it goes".
Sighing, I reached over the side of the bed and snagged my brace, fitting the straps tight on my leg so I could make my way to the head and the kitchen…in that order. First off, I had to grab my calendar leaning up against the bed and cross off another day…18…sigh…not even 1/3 of the way towards the 8 week mark when hopefully I'd get cast off. Everything was moving even slower since everyone had abandoned me. Ok, maybe 'abandoned' was a bit extreme as Mum had pointed out when she labeled my calendar "Finn's Pity Party" in big bubble letters (she loves me, but she's a little sarcastic), but it did seem like everyone was out of Haverford for the summer—camps, travel, work, whatever...they weren't here to keep me occupied.
Winston wagged his whole body excitedly as I swung my legs out and grabbed my crutches. He thudded to the floor and sprinted (a Winston sprint…pretty true to his namesake) ahead of me to the bathroom. The sharp pain earlier had taken the 'morning' out of my wood, so no issues quickly emptying the bladder. He patiently watched while I peed and then led-followed me to the kitchen…insisting on going first, but pausing every few steps to look back and make sure I was still there.
Clad in just my boxer briefs (my uniform of the day since I'm all alone during the work week), I entered the empty kitchen and headed first for the coffee. Mum and Dad were off to work already, but nicely left me a fresh pot of coffee and breakfast all wrapped up and ready to reheat—yum…bacon, eggs and hashbrowns! Winston waited patiently while I ate, knowing that he'd get a reward of some of the breakfast (despite Mum's admonishment that it was bad for his stomach). I think both Winston and I agreed that any later discomfort was well worth the happiness gained from tasty bacon!
Winny and I finished breakfast and cleaned the kitchen. He helped to the prewash on the plates, and I only had to reload a few things in the dishwasher. Seriously, you'd think my parents would be more efficient in where they put everything...is it that difficult to understand which bowls, plates, cups fit best where…it's not like the shapes change every time.
As I refilled my mug with coffee—the elixir of life—I noticed it was almost 0900. Sean should be calling any minute. Even though his family was touring in Italy, he'd been really good about trying to call me every day. I lived for his Facetimes, especially since I was basically on house arrest. I hobbled to the family room—aka my daily center of operations—and stretched out on the couch. I'd barely leaned back when Winston was taking up his position further down on the coach. He knew just where to lay down so I could prop my leg up on his back. The doctor said to keep it elevated, and Winston had happily signed up for that role the day I got home from the hospital.
I eyed my pile of summer reading on the coffee table. I guess that was the good thing about being laid up—I was cruising through my list. At this rate, I'd be finished before my cast came off and I'd be footloose for the rest of the summer. I'd already read and written up Hemingway's For Whom the Bell Tolls, and was midway through Mary Renault's Persian Boy. I'd told my Mum it was historical fiction about Alexander the Great which was true. I figured she didn't need to know it was from the point of view of Bagoas, Alexander's servant and lover…how often do you get to legitimately have a hardon during your summer reading?!
Just then, Whatsapp flashed with 'Sean Calling' up on my screen. I grinned ear to ear as I accepted, "Yo, scum bag. I missed you from yesterday. How's it hanging?!"
"Low and left as always", he countered, the noise of Rome behind him almost drowning him out. "Guess where we are!" he grinned as he panned the phone back over his shoulder.
I saw old stone. It was definitely Roman ruins, but then they were in Rome so 'no duh'. I could make out arches, and clearly it was a huge building. "No way. The Colosseum! You're going to the fucking Colosseum?! Avē Imperātor, moritūrī tē salūtant! (Sue me, I'm a Latin nerd. So's Sean. We just finished Third Year—Cicero and all that. Next year it's Virgil's Aeneid).
"Yeah man! Just waiting on the 'rents and sister to finish up in the gift shop and then we'll head over. I got a flyer that says we can dress up in gladiator armor and get our pictures taken!"
"Ohhhhhhhh. Promise me you'll spring for the body oil and go with minimal armor!"
"You perve. You're such a gay boy. You just want pics of this beautiful bod for your wank bank!"
Sigh. Sean did have a beautiful body. Friends since the womb our Mum's say, we'd started gymnastics together at age 7. He called himself the bigger twin—just a little taller and a little more muscular than I. I smirked, "Yeah. Maybe. But then you still haven't delivered on your vow to find me a boyfriend. So it's either wank bank or you just admit you're gay too and we become boyfriends!"
"I like squishy boobs too much to go gay, so I guess I'll have to spring for the oil. Hey I gotta run here comes the fam."
"Catch you later". Knowing our call was ending way to quickly, I started to get a little choked up. " Umm, Sean. Thanks so much for the calls. I really, really appreciate it. I can't wait til you get back home."
"Hang in there my man. I'll be back before you know it and then your cast's coming off. Laters!"
"Love you too." I whispered to the dark screen.
Even though he was gone, I still felt warm and gooey all inside. We were born within days of each other; and when we were little, we thought we were actually brothers. We'd grown up taking baths together, playing naked in our pool, writing our names in the snow with our pee. To say the least, we were very comfortable being naked around each other—even as puberty started to wreak havoc on our hormones. We'd eagerly shared the secrets we'd uncovered, compared what was happening tour bodies, and yeah, jerked off together.
I'd really tried to be normal. At first, I jerked off thinking about girls—that's what you're supposed to do right? My oldest brother Peter (I'm sixth of six—three girls and three boys) had brought home a box full of porno mags from a yard sale. I kind of think he actually bought the box for Thomas and I, 'cause it seemed Peter never touched it after he stuck it in a dark corner of the basement. But I sure did. I spent hours down in that basement, devouring the magazines and getting off. But as I scoured page after page, eventually I found myself paying more attention to the ads in the back that had pictures of guys—lean muscled guys—they made my heart beat faster and my balls tingle.
So, it's probably no great surprise, as I began to realize I was more attracted to boys than girls, that Sean took front and center as Best Actor when it came to my fantasies. We're almost twins—my 5'8", 155 to his 5'9",160-ish. I have wavey, auburn hair and green eyes (from my Mum's Irish side) to his almost black hair and just as dark eyes. Getting into gymnastics as we have has been awesome for our physiques—tight waists spreading up to muscled shoulders…and cute little rounded butts with dimples in the sides. Not that I'd noticed or anything…right.
I'd pretty much only fantasized about my friends. For me it's not just about the getting off (but of course that's a huge part of it). I don't think I'd ever do something with a random that I didn't know—I'd never wander into a public toilet looking for a hook-up or anything like that. I'd check out and scope cute/hot guys (especially at our meets and at the beach), but actually doing something if one of them came on to me? I'd probably run away! For me it's all about the friendship, the personal and emotional connection—the sex would be taking it to another level.
The locker room became one of my favorite places. More eye candy than I could take in after every practice. Boys stripping off, teen athletes strutting about, and water cascading down those lean bodies in the showers. What is it about wet naked bodies anyway…that's like a whole new level of hotness whether it's the full on, under the showerhead look with the water coursing over and around pumped muscles and down through butt cracks like a sluice or the post shower scattered droplets clinging randomly to pale or tanned skin until the inevitable towel ruined the picture. To this day, I think a wet guy under a shower is one of the sexist images.
Me, I eagerly joined in the flesh parade. I was one of the earliest bloomers—believe or not, I was actually 'tall' for a while. I have photographic proof! Grades six through eight, I'm always up in the back with the tall kids. I was one of the first in my class to get pubes—even putting the guys a year or so ahead of me to shame—and I happily put it all on display! Guess I was more a sprinter than a marathoner in the height department though—heading into junior year, I've moved to the front of the class pictures. But hey, the pecking order is already firmly cemented so I'm good!
Needless to say, I scanned the field and recorded mental pictures for later fun in the privacy of my room (or anywhere else the opportunity presented!). I can't say everyone got recorded, I could afford to be picky. I definitely have my "types". Call me shallow, but I like athletic bodies—but favored lean muscles over thick or bulky (sorry all you offensive and defensive linemen on the football team). Other than that, I liked a wide range—tall and short; light and dark skin, all hair types from light to dark (well except for those guys who's bodies were growing hair on hair (ugh!). So high on my list were my fellow gymnasts (probably a little narcissistic of me), at least half the soccer team, a handful of the cross-country running team, the swimming and diving team, and one or two members of the football team.
I'd take those mental pictures throughout the day at school and then I use them for my own jerk off pleasure the moment I get home, when I go to bed, and when I wake up in the morning (yeah, and I don't mean just one of those times, more like all three and a few in between). Being a good Catholic kid, I'd then feel guilty as hell the next day. Just in case any of you were wondering why I was blushing, stuttering or looking nervous when you were talking to me—it's probably because I felt bad about mentally sucking your beautiful cock the night before. When the guilt builds up, that's when I start making promises…
I break a lot of promises…
I perve on my friends, but only from afar. I'm so far back in the closet that I couldn't even reach the doorknob if I tried. I'm back behind the clothes, under all that random shit you've been tossing in the back of your closet since you were five-years old. I'm underneath the musty old sleeping bag from Cub Scouts, behind the GI Joe footlocker that still has Joe with the Kung Fu grip. Yeah, shocker I'm a virgin. I've never done anything with anyone (unless if you count in my head, in which case I'm a totally perverted slut).
Sean is the only one that knows my secret, the first person I've 'come out to'—unless you count myself. I guess technically I was the first person I 'told'. That was at thirteen. I'd stood in the bathroom, looking in the mirror. Trying to understand the green-eyed, auburn-haired kid staring back at me. 'I'm gay', I finally uttered in barely a whisper. Each time I repeated it, I got a little more forceful, louder (fortunately no one else was home). It felt good to finally admit it to myself. It took another year for me to get up the balls to come out to Sean. While I still fantasized about him, it was abundantly clear that Sean was very, very straight. He was all gaga over boobs…squishy floppy boobs…the bigger the better and curvy bodies and butts. It's all he wanted to talk about. This girl or that who had caught his eye, who clearly liked him and he was going to get with. I'd join in the discussion, commenting whenever he raised the topic—I never initiated a hot girl discussion. Me, I liked pecs…hard lean pecs…tight waists and abs…and muscled backs…tight, muscled, dimpled jock asses…and of course dicks, cocks, penises, hardons, erections…all connected to adorably cute boys with their lean, post-adolescent faces, sharp jaws, soulful eyes.
Each time I played along though, I felt like I was lying to by best friend. Each time I felt worse and worse, and finally I just couldn't do it anymore. We were laying together on the double wide chaise lounge out by our pool. Sean had once again started talking about the girls he liked, when asked me who I liked. I started to make up an answer, but I couldn't lie anymore—it was 'time'. I sat up, pulling my knees up close, wrapping my arms around them—almost putting myself in a protective cocoon.
I wasn't going to chicken out on this one—time to man-up and 'Cross the Rubicon' as Mr. Proctor used to say in Latin class. My eyes fixed on the dappled sunlight on the pool water, I took a deep breath and just blurted it out, "Sean, I need to tell you something really important. I'm gay." Then I waited...silence…it seemed to last forever. My heart was pounding. Was he going to just get up and walk out on me? Friendship over?
Well, obviously you know he didn't since we'd just chatted a few minutes ago. After what seemed an eternity, I felt him shifting near me. His arm snaked around my back and he pulled me in close as he softly, but emphatically said, "You're my best friend. You always will be. I don't care if you're gay."
Yeah, I kind of lost it at that point. The flood gates opened and I started crying—mostly from relief I guess. The release of tension, weight off my shoulders and all that, it's finally out in the open. Not having to lie anymore—not to mention happiness over the fact that he hadn't punched me out or walked off. I'm not sure how long we sat there while I cried, but Sean kept his arm tight around me the whole time, his free hand gently stroking my arm to help calm me back down.
Eventually I got it together, grabbing my t-shirt to wipe the tears and snot off my face. I gave Sean a weak grin and whispered, "Thanks."
He pulled me in tighter, "Love you always." I managed to eek out a 'love you too'.
Then he started in with the questions. "Ok, so you're gay...as in you like boys. I have sort of noticed that you never bring up the topic of girls—you'd only join in after it came up. I kind of wondered. So do you not like girls at all?""
"No, I like girls. I mean they're nice and all. But I just don't like them that way—they don't do anything for me. I don't get all excited over squishy boobs. I like hard pecs," I laughed as I flicked him in the chest. "And ripped abs, and dicks."
Sean nodded slowly as he took all that in. Then of course he hit me with the inevitable question, "Do you ever think about me?" I had known it was coming. I nodded, all I could do was whisper, "I'm sorry, so sorry." I started crying again.
Sean put his arm around my shoulder. "It's ok Finn. I'm not mad. I'd be shocked if you said no. I mean we're best friends. We love each other—there's no one closer than the two of us. And if I were gay…just to be clear I'm not, I would be totally into you too. You're almost as hot as I am!"
I laughed, "Not to mention perfectly humble!"
"That too—I'm so humble I'm perfect in every way!. Ok. So, we got work to do. We need to get you fixed up. How about Alex Franklin, he's definitely gay!"
I gagged! "Alex, no f'g way. Do you think I have zero standards? He's cute and all, but he's 'so gay', so ummm, flamboyant. That's like a total turn off for me—I like regular guys, who happen to like other guys. Alex showed up for gym in a pink Hello Kitty t-shirt. Absolutely not…never…not if he were the only gay guy on earth. I don't like 'campy gay'…not my thing."
"Fair enough. Ok so, we know that you think I'm the hottest guy in school (thank you for that honor by the way); and we know Alex is at the bottom of the list—you're batting a thousand, I approve of both of those choices. So, who is in between? Surely, you've had your eye on other guys."
"Sean, no, I can't tell you that. That's way too embarrassing."
"Un uh, you don't get off that easily. You've been listening to me go on and on and on about this girl and that girl that I like. You're my best friend. I trust your judgement and it's fun sharing my crushes with you. You've kept yours all bottled up for what…3-4 years. Now it's my turn to listen to you babble on and on!"
I sighed, "Damn you're so annoying"
He grinned, "I'm annoying because you know I'm right." He said in a very self-satisfied manner.
"Yeah…especially annoying because you're right. Ok. Yes, I have crushes, and fantasy favorites."
"Hah! I knew it. Ok. Gimme your Top 10 List, or Top 5..let's hear them. Seriously, I care though. I want to know who you like. Who's your type."
"Ummm. Ok. Who's my "type"? He has to be smart, clever, funny…most important have to be nice. Not into arrogant guys who think their shit doesn't stink. I like athletic guys, and specifically ummm lean athletic guys. I like gymnasts, swimmers, runners, soccer players; as opposed to bulky athletic guys like football players. Other than that, it's kind of wide open—tall, short, medium, blond/brunette/red, eyes any color."
"Ok…so that's all good for 'theory'…now…I want names…give me specifics…you do think about guys in school yeah?"
"Oh definitely…I probably think more about guys in school than any other guys…like not really into celebrity crushes or anything. For me I really have to know the guy…that's what makes it really real to me. I don't think I'd even consider a hot guy who just came up to me out of the blue. I'd probably be so scared that I'd run away. Ok…so real guys…", I was stalling, of course I knew the list by heart, "Ok, here it goes."
"I really like Amory Rogers. He's a really funny, happy guy—always has a smile. You gotta love that little striker's body—everything's just so tight. And he's got that bright white hair, kind of floppy."
"He's got a huge dick!" Sean chimed in. "Have you seen that thing swinging in the showers? You'd better hope he's a shower not a grower!" He got defensive when I cocked and eyebrow at him. "What? Everybody looks!"
I smirked. "He does have a big one, it's hard to miss so to speak. I think I'm up for the challenge though—shower or grower. Ok. Next is definitely Thom MacLeod—you know, on the cross-country team. He's just so tall and lean, and that black hair with those piercing blue eyes. Have you seen him finishing his races—it's like he's barely broken a sweat—and his little butt looks so cute in those running shorts."
I continued on, "Then I suppose Jim Scullen, the lax player. He's a majorly cocky guy, but in a nice way. And have you seen his eight pack abs and Adonis Belt…damn it like a lickable arrow to his dick. Plus he's got that wavy hair that he has to keep flipping out of his eyes…sigh"
Sean took it all in, "OK. Pretty consistent pattern. You definitely like 'nice' guys…which makes sense as you're one of the nicest. I couldn't see you dating an asshole like Howell. And clearly you have a thing for the lean, muscular types. So who rounds out your Top 5?"
"For that you have to go to the swim team—Hamilton and Kerwin. Those broad shoulders, little waists, tight butts. I could handle both of them at the same time!"
"Ohhh Finn, now you're getting to be a little slutty. I like that!" Then he looked pensive, "So, given your list, I would have expected you to mention Paul Arnold—wouldn't he be your type. Lean, good athlete, he's super smart."
"Sean, have you seen him in the shower?! Paul's got body hair on top of his body hair!", I gagged just thinking about trying to force my tongue through that forest, "You'd have to shave him just to see his skin. Someone should seriously talk to him about electrolysis…I'd help out collecting money for that."
Sean continued to toss out potentials. Many had at least had cameo appearances in my fantasies over the last few years, but as I said, I had 'high standards'—or at least I knew who I liked—so it wasn't like I was lusting over the entire student population. Eventually we'd exhausted the eligible bachelors at Haverford Preparatory Academy.
"Alright Finn, you've been sporting wood for the last hour. Time to hit the pool and cool that beast down." We got up and meandered to the edge. I dipped my toe towards the water to test how cold it was, but before it even touched, I was tackled from behind and the two of us catapulted into the water. I came up sputtering and immediately launched a vicious counter-attack! No quarter expected, no quarter given. We were very evenly matched, and it was all in fun…so eventually we just tired each other out. At a pause in the battle, I saw Sean reach down under wtare and quickly come back up with his board shorts. "Skinny time!" he announced.
I hesitated, "Sean I don't think that's a good idea."
"Why not? We've always skinny dipped." He challenged. I knew he was making a point.
"Yeah but I'm gay."
"So. You were gay all the other times we skinny dipped right?" I nodded. "And did you try to rape me, fondle me—ok ignore than one, I know you fondled me haha. Don't go all 'gay prude' on me. We're best friends. This is what we do."
"Gay Prude? Is that even a thing?" I pondered aloud.
"It is now. I just made it up. It covers anytime Finn tries to weird out on 'us' just because he's now announced that he's gay," Sean grinned, quite pleased with himself.
Well, I couldn't argue with that logic—I wouldn't have won the argument anyway. So my shorts joined his on the side of the pool and we swam naked, which oh by the way is a lot of fun. I just love the feeling of the water streaming alongside my dick. Same as always, we both got hard and when Sean pulled himself out of the water and sat on the edge with little Sean pointing skyward, I knew that too was a 'Gay Prude' challenge.
Challenge accepted, I hopped out next to him—equally swollen. When he leaned over and dropped a wad of spit into his hand, I got a tingle—okay prude or not, I wasn't going to pass on the opportunity to jerk off with him. Especially since I could now openly ogle—no more having to subtlety take some fleeting glances. I have to say, watching and listening to your best friend take care of himself is way hotI I don't think either of us lasted very long before the moans and groans reached their peak and we both shot ropes out into the pool (thank god for chlorine!).
Sean glanced over at my still rock-hard dick and shook his head, "I still don't understand how you stay hard after you cum, that's so not fair".
I beamed proudly (funny the things that make you proud!), and shared that I could easily go back to back if I wanted to, and that four times in a row was my personal best.
Sean did go prude on me when he got up, noting that it'd probably be better to jump in at the other end, the less-cummy end, of the pool. As he turned, I launched into the water—coming back up with a mouthful which I shot out in rope-like spurts. "Yummm, that must have been your cum," I announced, "It definitely doesn't taste like mine!"
"Perves not Prudes?", I smirked, "Like Oxfords not brogues?" A reference to one of our favorite movies.
We'd played around a bit more in the pool before putting our board shorts back on and drying out before Mum got home. I went to bed that night just beaming. I'd come out to Sean, no more having to hide, he'd been totally cool about it—and we got to 'play'—it can't get much better than that! Unfortunately, the last two years hadn't yielded any Finn-boyfriends. Sean had kept his eyes open, but I wouldn't let him even hint to anyone—I wasn't ready for that. And now it pretty much looked like I'd be writing off the summer—with me basically confined to the house and everyone out of town.
With a sigh, I picked up The Persian Boy and dug back into it. It was a really good story—though I thought Mary could have been a tad more explicit in her prose. You really had to fill in between the lines for the sex scenes—thankfully I have a very vivid imagination! Eventually, my foot rest needed to go outside and pee, so we took a reading break. It was time for 'Family Feud' anyway—don't judge, it's one of my guilty pleasures. I love Steve Harvey and the contestants are a train wreck. And don't get me started on the 100 people that they get to answer every question—call me judgmental, but I think it's an indictment on the American educational system.
Midafternoon, I took another reading break and snuck downstairs to the gym. With two older brothers and a Dad that still worked out, we had a really decent home gym in the basement. Technically, I didn't sneak, but I was definitely working out on the sly. The doctor hadn't directly said I couldn't work out, but then he hadn't said I could. I was going to go stir crazy if I couldn't do any work out for eight whole weeks. I put in a solid chest and triceps workout, finishing up with pull-ups—my absolute favorite—at least I'd be in some semblance of shape when I was able to get back into gymnastics.
I was back upstairs and had actually put on shorts and a t-shirt by the time Mum got home—her Irish brogue echoing through the house as she came in. I could pretty much pull off the lilt of Irish laughter if I concentrated—after all I was raised by this lass from Country Kerry. Mum was fresh off the boat—or the plane actually. She had come to the States for college, met my Dad, and fell in love—romance, six children, and a house in the Philadelphia suburbs followed suit, with yours truly being the Grand Finale, the baby, the Christ Child...take your pick of loving terms my family came up with. Dad's side of the family had been in America much longer. The Carmichaels were Scots-Irish—descended from the Ulster Protestants—so we covered both sides of The Troubles. Whenever I got mad at him, I'd refer to him as a "Bloody Prot"…he'd laugh and try to remind me that I was 50% Bloody Prot.
Mum and I chatted about our days as I helped her prep our dinner—I was a solid sous-chef, and was even beginning to experiment with sauces and rubs for meats. I filled her in on the 'historical' aspects of Persian Boy—betting on the come that she wouldn't run across any well-read parents who might expound on the more homoerotic aspects. While dinner simmered on the stove, she put in a request for music, so I snagged my guitar from the family room. Mum had raised me on Irish music since birth, and as I got older she taught me how to play the guitar. I started out with Galway Bay—one of her favorites, and rolled on through more of our playlist. When I heard Dad coming in though I immediately switched to a more rebellious track, launching into Boulavogue and Father Murphy!
Dad chuckled as he entered the kitchen, "Sounds like rebellion is afoot!" he bellowed as he bent to give me a hug and a kiss on the top of my head—as the shortest of the Carmichael men, I had definitely gotten more of my Mum's height then my Dad's. "Hmmm, I hope there's time before dinner for me to help this one into the shower—he's a bit ripe", Dad opined as he moved on to embrace Mum.
With the full length cast on my leg—which I couldn't bend, I needed help putting on this huge rubber sleeve thing that kept it dry while I showered. The sleeve fit really, really tightly around my upper thigh and my Dad had to pull it wide open to get it over the cast. Then we had this little bulb thing that sucked the rest of the air out of it—vacuum sealing it to my leg. I needed help getting it off once I was dried off. That meant I now showered at the end of the day during the work week (since I was always still asleep when Dad left for the office in the morning). But better Dad to help me than Mum—that would just be too embarrassing for my fragile young male ego.
I hustled off to the Jack and Jill bathroom off my room, stripped down and wrapped myself in a towel before hollering for Dad. Even having Dad help me took a little getting used to—though he was way cool about "not looking" and being very matter of fact in pulling the sleeve way up on my thigh. I get it that they both seen me naked, and wiped my butt when I was little—but I'm not little anymore—so it's just a little awkward. I can strut around the locker room naked with 50 other guys—but one parent…no way! Of course, I'll happily put up with the moment of awkwardness in exchange for the joy of a warm shower.
My shower was a teen boy's dream, with a rain shower head overhead, two side shower heads, and a handheld head that I'd only just begun to experiment with (haha). I tilted my head back and leaned into the warm water, loving the feeling as it cascaded down my body. Before the mirror clouded over, I was able to put on a show for myself—like I said already, naked athletic boy under a shower is way hot—whether it's one of my friends or me, myself! I had the presence of mind to soap up while I was ogling myself, for pretty soon, Dad was knocking on the door that it was time for me to finish up as dinner was almost ready.
Freshly washed, hair primped, and looking smart in my Nantucket Red shorts and a polo, I hobbled downstairs to join my parents at the table for dinner. The food was awesome as always, Mum was a fantastic cook (and of course I helped!). We always had fun and wide-ranging conversations at dinner. My parents had always talked to us like adults. They'd delve into politic, social, religious, financial, and any other of a number of topics—and they wouldn't just pontificate. They'd press us for our own opinions even when we were little.
After dinner, we all pitched in to clean up—yes, I handled the dishwasher as Mum knew I'd just reorganize it anyway. Then we settled in to watch a movie before everyone headed off to bed. Rinse and repeat that day and you had my life for the past 18, soon to be 19 days…only 37 more days to go…sigh. Two more days til the weekend, where things would be a little different since my parents would be home and they're be some sort of family outing—even a trip to the grocery store was an exciting outing at this point.
Yeah, well, things didn't go quite as planned at the end of the week. I'd gotten caught up finishing Persian Boy—ok, it's not as explicit as the online stories I can find, but still it's sensual enough to get me excited (ok, yes, that's a very low bar as it doesn't take much of anything to get me excited!). Anyway, it was pretty late in the afternoon by the time I headed to the basement for my surreptitious workout. I'd finished up on a solid back and biceps routine, and was in the midst of my pull-ups when disaster struck—well if you count getting 'caught' as a disaster. I had to use a stool to get to the pull up bar, which required that I kind of hop up on my good leg, then swing across to get to the bar—all good though, I handled that easily. I was on my 8th pull up when I felt arms wrapping tightly around my legs—wtf?!
"Let go now,", my Dad said in that voice that you knew meant a. you're in big trouble, b. you'd better respond immediately if not sooner, and c. don't even think about arguing. I forgot about c.
"Dad, I'm fine. I just have two more pull-ups to go." Bluffing my way through it seemed like a good idea. Not. On the flip side, I briefly thought that I may have invented a new, resistance method of pull-ups as I tensed my muscles to complete the 9th pull-up but got nowhere as Dad held me tight.
"The doctor never said I couldn't work out!", I protested.
Shocker Dad fumed, "And he never said you could work out either. Finn what would happen if you fell. You could reinjure your leg—and far worse. You could even lose it, then where would you be? No working out, period, until the doctor clears you to do so—got it?!"
I tried to argue, but got nowhere as I was lowered to the floor. Dad wouldn't even let me start a coherent counter argument.
Furious, I hobbled upstairs and encountered Mum on her way in a well. "Hello Finn," she said way too cheerily, 'Your Dad and I decided to surprise you and come home early so we could go out to dinner."
I glared and hobbled off towards my room, muttering under my breath about needing a rebel hand to set the heather blazing and bring the neighbors from far and near. As I went upstairs, I could hear Mum and Dad discussing 'the issue'. Great, now I'm not even going to be able to work out—this summer is getting worse and worse. We did go out to dinner, but I was in full on silent treatment mode so it wasn't the most congenial family meal.
I wasn't in much of a better mood the next morning as I slunk downstairs towards the smell of coffee. Mum and Dad of course couldn't be cheerier, which only darkened my outlook. I grunted my responses to any questions, and initiated no thoughts of my own.
My ears perked up though when I heard Dad casually mention to Mum, "So, I talked to Dr. Sloan this morning…" I wasn't going to give them any satisfaction though, so I continued to be overly fascinated with the steam rising off my coffee while I listened carefully.
"And what did Dr. Sloan have to say?", Mum parried back (she's always been a solid wingman).
"Well, Dr. Sloan seems to think that Finn could workout, provided he was well supervised, by a trainer…certified in rehabilitation therapy..."
"So…where would we find a certified trainer?", I asked tentatively, finally deciding this was a discussion worth joining.
Dad grinned, "Well, I called my gym and they just happen to have a slew of them. So, if you're at all interested in joining your Dad at the gym today, we could go check it out and maybe get you signed up."
I could get ready fast enough! Despite my urgings, it still took Dad forever to get organized and out the door—it was just past noon by the time we arrived. He had to walk fast to keep up with me as I crutched to the gym—sporting my Haverford Prep gymnastics team workout gear (ok, I like to show off…the gear's tight and shows off the muscles) and one red sneaker.
The trainer Elliot (I guess if I were an Elliot, I'd bulk up and become a trainer too) turned out to be a bit of a meathead, but I wasn't about to complain—I'd take anyone if it meant I could workout, so I kept my mouth shut and obediently followed him, listening deferentially as he explained machines and workouts to me that I'd done every day for years. My mind did wander a bit, and found myself pondering if he had a side hustle being one of the 100 people that answered questions for Family Feud. He seemed to fit the mold. My eyes wandered a little bit too—ok who doesn't check out who else is working out?! Most of the people were older—though there were some guys who had to be in their twenty's that were worth watching. I wonder if I'm the only guy that scans the gym every time he's there, picks out the hottest guy (or guys), and makes checking them out part of my workout routine.
While Dad went off to Spin Class, I got to work under not so close supervision. Elliot ended up popping back and forth between me and a girl he was clearly trying to court. I figured his odds were nil, but then you never know. Maybe she likes guys who were clearly hit with the fugly stick at birth. That wasn't going to slow me down though—'supervised' was a bit of a subjective term. Today was chest and triceps day, and I was going to get through my routine one way or the other. I was working at the bench press when I saw him come in—I almost gave myself whiplash doing a double take.
You know how sometimes you just have this radar for cute guys? Like you just get this sense that you need to look in a certain direction 'cause there going to be a cute guy there. Or the crowd in school seems to all of a sudden part like the Red Sea and there's some cutie in the middle like he's walking on stage? I hadn't even really noticed him when my eye was pulled to the entrance of the gym.
And there he was—a young guy...probably close to my age. Tall, like really tall (of course when you're 5'8"…on a good day…almost everyone is tall). Blond wavy hair, that kind of bounced as he came gliding in—seriously he glided instead of walking. I tried to be as subtle as I could as I watched him sign in. He looked a little lost as he looked around, taking in the gym—seemed like maybe his first time there. Eventually he moved into the free weight area where I was and started working out. Elliot had me doing high reps on fairly light weight, so I was cranking through my routine.
I kept scoping this kid out though as he worked out—thank God for all the mirrors in gyms. I could angle bank from one mirror to another to pretty mush stare at him as much as I wanted without being obvious—or so I thought. He was wearing red shorts that hugged his butt really nicely—you could make out the dimples in the sides of his butt when he clenched; and he had on a tank top that showed off a really nice set of deltoids—god I love that V where the shoulder meets the biceps. A few times, you could even see the striations in his deltoids as he lifted.
I thought I saw him looking my way a few times too, so I started showing off. I didn't want to look like a wimp though with the light weight Elliot had me working, so I decided to up the weight—not the easiest thing to do when your trainer is making time with a girl whose boobs are vying with her ass for preeminence. I had to carry one weight at a time, kind of cradling it in one hand against a crutch as I went from the weight stand to the bench press. For this I had to concentrate, so I had temporarily lost track of my blond cutie boyfriend (ok…maybe my fantasies get just a little of fast-tracked). Then all of a sudden there he was…right there…I mean like RIGHT next to me…reaching for the weight I was trying to carry.
"Hey! Let me help you with that," he said, taking the weight from me without even waiting for me to respond. "You should have someone helping you with these."
I head nodded towards a thoroughly occupied Elliot. "I do. My trainer's over there."
The kid laughed. "Looks like he's hoping to get lucky."
I rolled my eyes, "Well you gotta love his optimism."
He pointed at my chest. "You go to Haverford Prep? We just moved to town and I'm starting there as a junior in the fall. Billy. Billy Shelby," he said sticking out his hand.
I grinned ear to ear—seriously?! This cutie was going to be in my school...and in my grade?! I eagerly shook his hand (yeah, probably way to long for a 'normal handshake…what can I say, I was enthusiastic.) "Yep, Haverford. Finn. Finn Carmichael. I'll be junior too…we're 'cautiously optimistic' I'll be back on the gymnastics team."
"Ummm. Would you want to work out together? Looks like you could use some help with the weights. And honestly, I could use some help on the 'what to do' side. I run cross country. Haven't ever really done the weight lifting thing, but I wanted to put on some muscle."
Right then my mind spun off to its happy place. Thank you God. Thank you God. Totally cute. In my grade. Just moved to town—so he must not know anyone. AND he wants to work out with me. I was processing all this when I realized I hadn't answered Billy. I flicked my eyes up, meeting his—god they're sooo blue. He was kind of looking at me intently. I smiled and trying not to be overly enthusiastic, "Ummm. Sure. Yeah. We can do that!"
Boy the day just got a whole lot better! I got to set the routine, alternating sets with this adorably cute boy. And since we were working out together, I got to "spot his sets"—meaning stare at him the whole time he was lifting under the guise of 'being a good workout partner'. His shoulders looked even better close up. I could see the sides of his pecs too and just a little swath of his abs when his shirt rode up. I got the serious feeling he was staring at me during my sets—but that might have been more 'my wish' than reality.
We chatted away the whole time too. I'd lived in Haverford my whole life and had gone to Prep since kindergarten, so I was quite the authority on the school—even knowing details on the school's cross-country team which Billy soon would be joining. He was so easy to chat with—normally I'm way shy, but somehow my inhibitions just melted away as we talked. We were probably two-thirds of the way through my planned workout when I spied Dad walking over. I knew that meant he was finished with his class and suspected that meant we were done for the day. As much as I willed him to turn around and go back to Spin Class, it didn't take—with a big Dad grin, he came right up to us.
As I introduced Billy, Dad got a curious look on his face. "Are you Allen Shelby's son?"
"Yes sir, Allen's my Dad."
"I'd heard he had moved out this way. I've worked a few deals with him in the city—good M&A guy…tough negotiator! Well nice to meet you. Tell your Dad I said hello and welcome to Haverford."
I tried to convince Dad to stay longer, but he had some conference call he had to be on and obviously I couldn't hobble all the way home. I must have looked like my puppy Winston had just passed away—no way I wanted this day to end.
That's when Billy came to the rescue! With the best 'let me wow your parents voice', he offered to give me a lift if 'that would be acceptable to my father'. I could see Dad considering—after all, he did know Billy's father, and clearly he was a very 'polite young man'. I gave Dad my best 'please, please pull-eeeeze' look—and it worked!
"Thanks, that was so awesome!" I whispered as my Dad left.
"No thanks necessary. My offer was purely in my own self-interest—now I get to continue working out with my new best friend," Billy grinned.
With time to ourselves, we spent another solid hour working out and made plans for working out tomorrow as well. The summer was starting to look up—a new friend, a new really cute friend that I was really starting to like—who am I lying to…not starting to…already did.
Eventually, we finished up with tricep push downs to exhaustion. Billy wanted to shower and change before he left, so I hung out for a bit. He was taking a while, so eventually I decided to hit the head. I stepped into the urinal area just as he was coming out of the showers—naked except for a towel low around his waist, those blond locks plastered across his forehead. Yeah, I looked. I think my eyes started at the bulge in his towel, moved up to his V, belly button, abs, pecs…and eventually his eyes…which were looking right at me…busted. I blushed up something fierce and said 'hi'…yeah, 'hi' how fucking articulate was that? Billy just gave me that melt your heart smile of his and said he'd be ready in a few—at least he didn't punch my lights out for ogling him, that's a good sign right?
He came out to the lobby looking adorable in Vineyard Vines shorts, a form fitting button down and loafers (I'm a serious preppy…so he was speaking to my fashion sense!). We got out to the parking lot and I was seriously jealous. Not only did he already have his license (my test having been 'indefinitely delayed due to the busted leg'); but he was driving a red Jeep Wrangler with the top down—life is so not fair!
What would have been a long walk hobbling on crutches was a pretty short drive in Billy's awesome chariot. I was so not ready to let him go though, so I sweet talked him into coming inside—meet my Mum, see the house (after all, we were new best friends, right?). Billy wowed Mum; and her Irish accent equally wowed Billy—Dad he was off in his study still on his conference call. I dragged Billy up to my room and we hung out for a bit. I could tell he was definitely taking it all in—which was cool, I mean a room says a lot about a person right? What does a room with posters of male gymnasts say—might say you're a gymnast, might say you're totally gay for ripped male gymnasts bodies. My bookshelves definitely say I like history, literature, and Lord of the Rings-like fiction.
Eventually all good things come to an end and he had to roll out—dinner event with his parents—so we had to say goodbye. I so didn't want him to leave, but at least we'd already arranged for him to pick me up tomorrow to hit the gym again...and pretty much agreed to this being a regular thing…maybe having Sean and my other buds out of town wasn't going to be such a bad thing after all. I crutched Billy out to his car and we said goodbye. That was awkward…I went for a handshake 'cause I didn't want him to think I was perving on him, and he went for a hug (damn it why didn't I just do that like I wanted to). We ended up hugging, but I'd kind of screwed it up and I think I embarrassed him. He smiled though and waved as he drove off, so maybe it wasn't that disastrous.
I couldn't have been happier as I headed back inside; what a change from this morning! I filled Mum in on Billy, and my day, and Billy. Okay, maybe I was overdoing it. As it was, I could wait to get through dinner, the movie, the rubber sleeved shower (ugh), and bed—anything to make tomorrow come more quickly. As I lay in bed that night, I just replayed the day…or half the day anyway…over and over again. Billy was just so cute, and so nice, and so tall, and so umm, well yeah sexy. I got hard just whispering is name…and yeah, I got very hard when I jerked off thinking about to two of us kissing and fooling around naked. As I came down from my orgasmic high though, the doubts began to creep in—was I reading more into our catching each other's eyes, the smiles, the laughs than was really there?
Doubts or not, I bounced out of bed happily Sunday morning, up even before Winston…he just grunted and burrowed deeper into the covers as I slapped my brace on, crossed out another day on the Pity Party calendar and headed off to t pee. I surprised even my parents by having the coffee already made and breakfast started before they got up. I was whistling Irish Eyes are Smiling as I handed Mum her cup of coffee. She joined in with me and we sang the chorus:
When Irish eyes are smiling, Sure, 'tis like the morn in Spring.
In the lilt of Irish laughter, You can hear the angels sing.
When Irish hearts are happy, All the world seems bright and gay.
And when Irish eyes are smiling, Sure, they steal your heart away.
Yeah, I blushed when we sang the 'gay' part, but I don't think Mum noticed…we just continued on through the song. After breakfast, Winston joined me on the couch to help elevate my leg so I could get some more reading done before Billy picked me up. I headed up to my room to change about a half hour before he was due to arrive—it only took me three changes of workout gear before I was happy with the look. One should dress to impress right? I went with a tank top to show off some skin like Billy had done yesterday; and an older pair of white gymnastics shorts.
He arrived looking awesome, but I think I would say he looked awesome no matter what he was, or wasn't, wearing. I corrected for yesterday and went right for the hug—god he even smells awesome. Today would normally be leg day, which of course you're not allowed to skip…unless of course you have a leg in a cast which pretty much rules out any and all leg exercises. I still made Billy do some squats, extensions and curls (his butt looked way cute when he did the curls). But we pretty much worked shoulders instead—laterals, pull ups (yes, Billy spotted me close so I didn't mess up my leg). The session was filled with lots of smiles, looks, laughs, even touches—each and everyone of them over analyzed by me for its hidden meaning. Elliot kept just enough of an eye on us to justify billing for a session.
Today Billy invited me over to his house after our workout. That proved a bit complicated as I needed to swing by home, have Dad help me in the shower, and then we headed over to Billy's. At least it was Sunday, so Dad was there to help—not sure how I'd have managed otherwise. So I got to meet his parents—no question how he ended up being 6'2" at 16—they both towered over me. I felt like I got a bit of a third degree from them—but maybe they just liked to know all about his friends. Mr. Shelby definitely remembered being across the negotiating table from Dad—not sure who thought who was the tougher negotiator.
The next few weeks were an emotional rollercoaster for me. The routine was set—wake up and cross off another day, knock out some summer reading with Winston, and then came Billy-time. I saw him almost every day, and each time I was more and more smitten with him. We'd workout and then head to his house or my house. We seemed to be getting along amazingly well. But I couldn't figure out if he was as 'interested' in me as I was in him. Everything I did was because I was a gay perve; everything he did was because he was innocent, sweet and a super nice, friendly guy. Or was he just as much of a perve as I am? One moment I'd be all excited over a clear signal; next moment I'd convince myself I was just misinterpreting his friendliness. I was jerking off thinking about him every night; and then I'd resign myself to just being a good friend—like all my other friends at school. Why couldn't there be just some sort of clear sign where you would 'know'? Every call with Sean now focused on my 'love life', no longer Roman history.
Yeah, well that clear signal finally came 'in spades' as Dad likes to say at the end of week three—six weeks into my cast for those of you keeping track. Although in retrospect, it was really my signal first, then his, I sure didn't plan it that way. Mum and Dad had headed into Philly midmorning on Saturday. They had some black-tie event that night and were staying upstairs in the same hotel, coming home on Sunday. Billy and I of course got together, and after the gym he suggested that we go out for a movie. Well, that required that I shower—and no Dad to help. Thank God he didn't mention this earlier or I would have been a complete mess. I hemmed and hawed of course as I tried to figure out what to do. By now, Billy was well aware of the Finn-rubber sleeve-shower process. He just sat there in the driver's seat smirking as I squirmed.
Now you'd think a gay boy like me would jump at the chance to be alone and near naked with the boy I'm swooning over. Isn't that a classic porno set-up? But no. Not me. I was fucking terrified. I was blushing even just contemplating the idea. Finally, Billy took pity on me.
"Look Finn. Relax, this isn't a big deal. You need to shower. To do that you need the sleeve thing put on and taken off. You can't do it alone. I'm your friend. I can help." I nodded. I couldn't really refute the logic.
He continued, "Besides, you've already seen me naked in the gym locker room, or almost naked anyway. And come the fall, we'll both definitely see each other naked in the school locker room. So no big deal right?"
I acquiesced, well aware that my heart was pounding though my chest—though I'm not sure if it was due to the terror or the excitement of being naked and alone with Billy. As I felt the sweat dripping in my armpits, I thanked God that we'd already worked out—at least I had that as cover. I tried to be as casual as I could as we drove to the house and I led us inside. Billy seemed totally relaxed and waited in my bedroom as I stripped and wrapped a towel around my waist (ok, I did purposefully wrap it low, so my Adonis Belt was on full display—the arrow that pointed under the towel to my groin.
OK. This is it. I took a deep breath and slowly let it out—trying to calm myself down. Then I took off my brace and sat down on the toilet seat, calling Billy in. I smiled as he appeared in the doorway—who am I kidding, I smile every time I see him. He pulled the rubber sleeve off the rod on the shower door, turning it in his hands as he inspected it. It's a one size fits all kind of thing, from my fairly slender legs to those sporting thunder thighs, so it was just plain big. "This is seriously sexy," he grinned, wiggling his eyebrows.
I laughed, feeling a bit of my tension slip away. Of course, it came sweeping right back as Billy knelt down in front of me. I reached down and lifted my leg as he stretched the opening of the sleeve wide and eased it over my foot. So far so good. In fact, I was totally fine as he moved the sleeve up the cast covered portion of my keg. But the sleeve has to go all the way up to the top of my thigh—given the one size fits all thing (which is really not entirely accurate you know). But as he past the edge of my cast, his fingers started grazing my bare skin. I choked back a gasp as the electric shock jolted through me.
I'm learning we all have those spots on our bodies that are super, super sensitive. My nipples are one of those places. I'm convinced that they're hard wired to my dick. Touch, flick, lick, pinch, bite, or anything—and the impact is immediate and dramatic. The inside of my thigh I just discovered, is another one of my places. It was just the lightest of touch, but that probably made it even worse—or better I guess depending on your point of view. So…yeah…my body, or more specifically my dick immediately responding with the utmost enthusiasm. My towel rose up just like a bad magician's handkerchief—only instead of fishing line pulling it up, it was my rapidly swelling cock pushing it up from below.
I tried to ignore it, but yeah that wasn't happening. Billy couldn't ignore it either as it was right in front of him. Both of us stared right at the rising towel—no mystery as to the cause. I felt like my whole world was crashing in on me—fuck, fuck, and double fuck! The cutest boy I've ever met and I have to throw a boner right in front on him. I started blushing everywhere, and I mean EVERYWHERE. I do blushing like nobody's business—my facial cheeks of course (that's like novice level); then my chest; and if you go for the 360-view, you can throw in my shoulders and yes, my other cheeks.
I could feel my eyes starting to well up. I blinked and could feel a tear slide down my cheek. Why couldn't I have had more control? Why did my dick have to betray me? Billy was going to walk out on me—done, over. I closed my eyes tight trying to at least stem the tears. In barely a whisper, I uttered, "I'm sorry. I can't help it. You can just go…"
But he didn't move. Even through closed eyes, I could tell he hadn't moved. "Finn. It's okay. It happens to all of us."
I shook my head. "No," I said fiercely, "You don't understand. I'm gay."
I heard him laugh. Great he's laughing at me—a punch on the face would be less humiliating. Then I felt him squeeze my thigh (why hasn't he moved his hand away I briefly wondered). "You'd better be gay. Otherwise, I've been trying to flirt with the wrong guy for the past there weeks."
Wait. What did he just say?! I tried to process what was happening. I cracked my eyes open to see Billy smiling ear to ear. "You…you…you've been flirting with me?"
"Well, trying to. Clearly, I must not be very good at it if you couldn't tell," he giggled.
I smiled, "No. No. You were very good at it. I just wasn't sure. I've never flirted with another guy before. I mean I've wanted to...for a long time. But I was too afraid I'd flirt with the wrong guy too."
Billy raised himself up on his knees a little. With his one hand still on my leg, he raised his other hand to my cheek, "Can I kiss you?"
Now, I really wanted to correct his English, and say I was pretty sure he 'could' kiss me, but more importantly he 'may kiss' me if he wanted to—but fortunately I had the presence of mind to realize that correcting the English of the first boy to ever ask to kiss you would probably ruin the moment (plus I figured there would probably be other opportunities to use that one), so I just smiled and nodded.
He leaned forward. I tilted my head. Those amazing lips brushed softly against mine—the most intense kiss ever. When he started to pull back, my hands lashed out and pulled him in to keep the kisses going. There was four years of pent-up teen boy desire here being unleased on this poor boy! He pressed closer to me, my rock-hard cock now sandwiched between us (the towel had mysteriously disappeared somewhere in this process).
That's when major embarrassment number two hit. Between the kisses, the tongue wrestling, and his fingers now caressing my balls—I was quickly heading toward the point of no return. Whimpering into Billy's mouth, I stiffened up and began bucking against him as I unloaded everywhere between us. Gasping for breath, I finally broke the kiss and buried my face in his neck. Once again, I was apologizing, "Oh shit…I'm so sorry…it's so f'g embarrassing."
"You need to stop saying you're sorry all the time. Not embarrassing…it's totally the most erotic thing that's ever happened to me…it means you're so turned on by me that I sent you over the edge."
Pulling back and locking eyes, I laughed, "Well. Okay…if you're a conceited jock it might mean that."
"You gonna argue with my logic?"
"Good. Now, let's get you cleaned up. Geez, this is serious HAZMAT here!"
I figured Billy would just retrieve my towel, but no. As I looked on wide-eyed, he leaned in and ran his tongue up across my groin from the inside edge of my thigh to the point of my pelvic bone. I murmured some sort of unintelligible reply to his query as to if this was okay. He carefully cleaned first the right side, then the left of my groin. But he wasn't finished, looking up and locking eyes, he leaned in and ran his tongue up either side of my shaft before opening wide and taking me in. My brain could barely process the amazing feelings that were flooding in from all quarters—from never having done anything, to kissing, to a blowjob in a matter of minutes.
I did get a jolt of pain up through my leg—I think I tried to spread my legs wider, but the floppy rubber sleeve was tangled up under Billy's leg somewhere. But that pain was quickly overwhelmed as he began swirling his tongue all around as he bobbed up and down. The whole time our eyes never left each other. You would think that having just cum, I'd last longer this time…but it wasn't to be. I could feel myself getting close again when he snaked his hand up across my torso—as first tracing my abs, but then tweaking my nipple which of course set me off.
He came up for some soft, gentle kisses as I came down from my high. By now though, I was a man (or kid) on a mission. I reached down and stripped off his polo shirt—that was going to have to get thrown in the wash since I'd sorta messed it up. He mumbled something about my 'not having to', but I shushed him and made it clear that I'd wanted to do this for four years, and more specifically, I'd wanted to do this for him for the past three weeks. There was no way this wasn't going to happen.
I stood him up, unzipping his shorts like I was opening a present. His cock bounced out to meet me as I shucked down his boxer briefs. Ok, interesting, he's bigger than me, and uncut—his head partially exposed. I wonder how you handle this from a blowjob perspective—I wasn't expecting this curveball. I would not be thwarted though; so, I just leaned forward and took him in my mouth, deep throating all the way down to his blond pubes! Not. Not even half, let's say a solid third since there's no photographic evidence to review!
I shuddered as I felt his cock filling my mouth, sliding in along my tongue and grazing the roof of my mouth. God I was born to do this! His groaning, moaning, twitching, and cock jumping—gave me a massive a surge of happiness. Such a total turn-on that me, myself, and I was making him feel so awesome. Billy's instincts kicked in and he was making little thrusts in and out as I bobbed. I could sense him beginning to get close, but the big surprise was right as he was about to cum. I definitely did not expect his cock to actually swell up bigger in my mouth. All I could think about was one of those long balloons—like the balloon figure guys use—when you squeeze the end and it makes the rest of it swell up!
Then he shot—rope after rope into my mouth! I swallowed what I could, some spilling out, and kept licking until he tells me "No, no, too sensitive". I leaned back, looking up at him with the biggest smile ever to have been plastered across my face. Grinning down at me, Billy pulled me up into an awesome naked hug and more kissing.
Eventually, we both moved into the shower. Did I mentioned how I love seeing naked jock in the showers, with droplets trickling down their muscles? Yeah, one naked jock in the shower with you is way more awesome that a whole locker room. Especially if it's a boy who's rocking your world and you get all the different nozzles going...water droplets everywhere!
Eventually the water started getting cooler, so we finally got out, toweling each other off—another awesome first for me! We dumped his clothes into the wash and headed back to my room—naked—to wait it out. The whole way Billy followed me, grazing his fingers across my butt. I tensed my cheeks up every time he did it and giggled, "Are you manhandling me you perve?"
He just sighed, "Sorry, you just have the cutest, roundest, little, butt…these dimples in the sides…"
Despite his fondling, we managed to make it to my room with no more hazmat spills, and I eased myself on to the edge of my bed, patting the space on the inside for Billy, "My bum leg's gotta be on the outside, out of the way."
I watched as he slid his tall, lean body into my bed…my bed…I have the most beautiful naked boy in my bed. He stretched out, turning on his side to face me. His head perched on his angled arm, one leg outstretched, the other pulled half way up—and that beautiful, uncut cock resting heavily on his thigh. God I could just look at him all day. I think my eyes kind of glazed over as I took him in.
Finally he reached out and traced his fingers along my jaw line, "Earth to Finn…are you in there?"
I shook my head, coming back to reality. "Sorry, ummm, I'm just so overwhelmed with all this."
"We're moving too fast?"
"NO, no, no. I'm overwhelmed, but in a good way. A great way actually. A supercalifragilistic way…so no…don't slow down." I took a deep breath, time to be 'bold' as Mum would say. "Billy, I've wanted this to happen since I was 12; and I've wanted this to happen with you since I first saw you at the gym—before you even came over and introduced yourself. I'm lucky I didn't just shoot my wad right there on the weight bench. So yeah, I'm good."
I turned on my side opposite him and the two of us just started quietly reaching out and touching each other. Tracing, caressing, memorizing. We kept making eye contact and we'd both grin stupidly each time it happened. Until one of us would break contact and look down at the other and have to reach out to touch muscles all over again.
"I really like just lying here with you", Billy sighed, "I can't believe this is happening."
"Me too, I can't believe I have the most beautiful boy in the world lying here in my bed. I keep expecting the dream to end."
"Do you really think I'm beautiful?"
"Are you kidding. Billy you're like beyond beautiful. It's like 'beautiful' is too mundane a word to even begin to describe you". I traced my fingers all over his lean tight body as I waxed eloquent about each beautiful component.
It didn't feel like I was telling him enough. I just felt so inarticulate. Like I couldn't come up with the right words to describe the intensity of what I was feeling. Finally, I just gave up and sighed, "Billy, I really, really like you."
He reached up, again taking my jaw in his finger tips and shift my head so we were nose to nose. "I hope so, 'cause I really, really, really like you. And I'd be fucked if you only kinda liked me."
Then my brow furrowed as another thought took over my limited remaining brainpower—what does this mean 'we are'? (OBTW…Mum keeps telling me not to do that…it's gonna give you lines she says')
I came back to reality feeling this gentle tapping right between my eyes. "I can tell when you're thinking you know. You get this look in your eyes and you go off to some other place to ponder—what's up?"
I took a deep breath. There wasn't any clever way to answer this question. Or if there was, I couldn't think of it. So I just came out with it. "If we really like each other…and if we're pretty much being intimate…does this mean we're boyfriends?"
Billy looked very serious, "Are you asking me to be your boyfriend?" I couldn't read that expression…it wasn't what I was expecting. I got a sick feeling in my stomach that he wasn't going to say yes. All I could do was nod my head, I was too scared to try to say anything.
Billy sat up, shift around so he was sitting Indian style next to me. He reached out and took my hand in his. "I need to tell you some stuff about me first. Then you can decide if you want us to be boyfriends."
I looked at him like he was crazy and giggled. "Ummm, ok, but unless you're going to tell you're a serial killer who preys on his boyfriends, I'm gonna say yes. Candidly, even if you're a boyfriend serial killer, I'll probably still say yes. I'll accept the fact that I have a few blissful days left."
He laughed, "Not a serial killer, so no worried there." He took a deep breath, "Umm, when I told you we moved here because my Mom and Dad wanted to get out of Philly, that wasn't entirely correct. I kind of left some important stuff out."
"Ah, a Sin of Omission."
I pointed at my chest, "Roman Catholic, we're all about our sins. You can sin by doing something you shouldn't. Like us in the bathroom…that was definitely a Sin of Commission. But you can also sin by not doing or saying something you should have. That's a Sin of Omission."
"Ok Father Carmichael. I committed a Sin of Omission. My parents did want to get out of Philly. But it was because of me. I had a boyfriend. I think. I'm not actually sure—we never said we were boyfriends. We never talked—like this." He smiled, "I like that you're asking these questions."
I grinned, "Yea me."
"His name was Peter and we were definitely fooling around—on the down low, very in the closet. We were definitely sinning…a lot. And we got careless. We were doing stuff at school. And one day, we got caught. One of the teachers came into the empty room, while we were doing stuff. I was on my knees with my pants down; giving Peter a blow job. Peter freaked out and shoved me away—then he started screaming that I attacked him."
I listened wide eyed as Billy described the shit show that followed. I winced and held his hand as tightly as I could as he told of one nightmare after another. He getting hauled off to the Head Master's office. His parents being called. Peter's parents being called. Apparently Peter's parents were heavies on the Board, and the Head Master figured he'd throw Billy under the bus. Lawyers got involved. Billy couldn't believe that Peter wouldn't come around, so at first he didn't even try to defend himself. When the school threated expulsion, he finally turned his phone over to his father. The year plus of texts pretty much laid out the whole relationship.
I had to laugh when Billy described the scene in the Head Master's office with Peter's parents. His Mom saying her son wasn't gay; and the Shelby's lawyer saying, "Madame I'll refer you to page 173, and I quote—'Billy I am so gay for you. I love sucking your throbbing cock!' There's over 250 pages texts here. I assure you they're authentic, our digital forensics team has already verified everything. The nature of the relationship is abundantly clear."
In the end, they negotiated a settlement. Not only no expulsion, and Billy essentially received A's for all his final exams (not a huge deal as he was tracking to a 4.0 anyway). But by then, neither Billy nor his parents wanted anything more to do with the school—hence the move to Haverford.
"I'm sorry you had to go through all that. It must have been horrific. I wish I could have been there to help you. My Mum always says everything happens for a reason. That you have to take what life throws at you and figure out the good in it. This probably sounds pretty self-serving, but if all this hadn't happened, you wouldn't be here, and there wouldn't be an us…naked…here in my bed…talking about being boyfriends."
Billy grinned, "Yeah. It sucked…but yeah, this boyfriend idea is really, really nice."
"Ok. So now I understand that you went through this hell in Philly (the city of brotherhood BTW). That's not me. I would never do something like Peter did. To me, loyalty is the most important thing in the world. So, it that it?"
"Not quite. So obviously I got outed to my parents. And we had lots of 'talks' while this whole thing was going on. They're cool with my being gay. But new rules—when I date, they want to meet the boy I'm dating. And they want to meet the boy's parents."
I furrowed my brow, absorbing the implications of what Billy was saying. "So that means coming out to my parents and yours." Billy nodded. "And school too?"
Billy shook his head, "Not necessarily, but definitely parents."
I pondered more. Thinking through the primary, secondary and tertiary implications. "Ok. I'm good. I still want us to be boyfriends so let's do it."
Billy looked stunned. "Finn. You can't just decide just like that. Coming out is a huge deal. I don't want to force you to do it before you're ready."
"You're not forcing me to do anything, and you're not getting rid of me that easy. Look, this is really pretty straight forward." I ticked off my points on my fingers. "One, my parents love me, no dote on me—so gay or straight, they'll still be my parents. Two, yes we're Catholic, but we're casual Catholics—High Holy Days, Weddings and Funerals…so no religious issues. Three, I'm sixth of six; second of six came out as lesbian three years ago...so she already blazed that trail. Last, the only reason I haven't come out before is that up until now my sex life was all theoretical—now it's not."
Billy didn't even try to counter argue at that point. Instead, he grabbed his phone off the night table and a quick series of texts later, we were all set to have dinner with his parents. We retrieved Billy's no longer 'Finn decorated' clothes from the dryer. Then he helped me pick out my outfit—seriously I needed help. I started down the path of nothing was right and he calmed me down. I did haul out my white bucks to top off the outfit…or one white buck anyway.
We got to Billy's house and joined his parents in the kitchen, sitting at the breakfast bar while they prepared dinner. We didn't really have a plan for the announcement, but it came to me as Billy and his Dad were chatting. I reached down and laced my fingers with Billy's, then pulled our hands up and set them on the counter top. His Dad's eyebrows shot up, but he didn't miss a beat in the discussion.
He did keep asking us more and more ridiculous questions. I think it was when he moved on to the topic of what we'd read that afternoon and Billy responded, "The B Volume of the Encyclopedia Britannica, we were very interested in Botanicals," that his Mom finally turned around, stopping in midsentence when she noticed our intertwined hands.
That was my cue, I looked at them and launched into my official statement, "Mr. and Mrs. Shelby. I'm gay. I've asked Billy to be my boyfriend and I'd like you blessing to date your son."
Mr. Shelby shot a look over to Billy, "You told him about everything that happened?" Billy nodded. That then led into a discussion of their desire to meet my parents. Mr. Shelby frowned when I told him that I hadn't come out to them yet, but that was on the agenda for tomorrow. I replayed my earlier discussion with Billy and that seemed to mollify him…for now. Dinner was surprisingly unawkward, not what I expected but then I guess I'd never really thought about what a first dinner with my boyfriend's parents would be like. The Shelby's were very chill about the whole thing, not even batting an eye when we announced that we were heading back to my house to take care of Winston and spend the night.
I got all tingly as we got back in Billy's jeep for the ride home, and quickly got lost in my thoughts again as we buckled in. Billy noticed my mental wandering and called me on it. "Just thinking about my soon to be first night, in bed, with a boy," I mused.
"A lot of firsts for you today," he observed. "Me too. My first boy on boy shower, not to mention my first 'sex with a massive rubber sleeve'. This will be my first time sleeping with a boy too."
I blushed, "I like that we're doing firsts together. I'm want to do a lot more firsts with you."
Billy glanced sideways at me and cocked an eyebrow, "Yeah, even…?"
"Most definitely. But only after I get rid of this." I grinned, patting my brace. "I want to be fully operational."
He leaned in and gave me the most gentle, loving kiss. "I'm in no rush, Finn. Whenever we're both ready." God, I just love kissing. It's so intimate, and it makes the warmth flood all through my body. Once again my head was spinning as we drove home. I reached out and lay my hand on Billy's thigh, softly stroking his blond hairs as he drove just to ground myself and remind me this was all real.
We grabbed Winston and took him to the park at the end of the street for a little exercise. Let's be candid though, Winston's not getting any younger and his physique is matching the Prime Minister for whom he was named in his later years. There wasn't a whole lot of sprinting going on here—a few tosses of the ball, he did his business, and we were on our way back home.
After that, we headed up to my room for a whole other set of firsts—from brushing our teeth together, to getting naked under the covers, to our first (and second, third) sixty-nine (which was awesome, but I think I like one at a time better—you can concentrate more on making your boyfriend feel really, really good!). Eventually, I took off my brace and Billy spooned me—his now very relaxed cock nestled between my cheeks—and we drifted off to sleep…a very, very sound sleep.
I thought I'd be tossing and turning, not being used to sleeping with another boy like this, but I was conked out until morning. I awoke still in the exact same position, spooned in Billy's arms. The only difference was that now his very swollen and hard morning wood was nestled between my cheeks. I snuggled back into him which felt very nice—he barely stirred…the first indication of many to come of how soundly my boyfriend slept.
Eventually, my need to pee won out over my desire to snuggle, and I slipped out of bed…pausing to give a very accommodating Winston who had acquiesced to sleeping next to the bed a scratch behind the ears before heading to the bathroom. Billy was till sound asleep when I slipped back into bed, so I took the liberty of sliding down so I could closely examine his uncut morning wood. I was fascinated at how his head peeked out of the skin. Very gently and oh so softly, I ran one finger up and down—mesmerized at the softness of the skin and the hardness of his shaft. Billy finally stirred and came to as I once I'd wrapped more fingers around him and started stroking. That of course led to more fun and we spent a very lazy morning studying each other's bodies and kissing…lots of kissing. Eventually though we had to get up. Billy had some event he had to go to with his parents and I had to get myself psyched up for my upcoming parental unit discussion.
It was tough to say goodbye after the whirlwind day we had together—I still couldn't believe that less than 24 hours ago, I'd never done anything with a boy that wasn't a complete fantasy. And now I had a real boyfriend and had ticked off a whole series of 'firsts'! We had a long make-out session by his Jeep in our garage. Saying goodbye again and again, and each time coming back to hold each other and kiss some more. Finally, we were running the serious risk of my parents pulling in next to us and wouldn't that have been an awkward way for them to find out.
As it was, it seemed like I'd barely settled onto the couch, book in hand, Winston having dutifully taking up position to help elevate my leg, when my parents were pulling into the garage. Winston gave a snort of annoyance that I would roust him just after he settled in, but that quickly gave way to enthusiasm when the 'rents entered through the kitchen. I hobbled in and settled in at the breakfast bar while Mum started right in on preparing some lunch. Dad was unloading the car and puttering back and forth to his office.
Mum filled me in on their weekend, and I did the same—my weekend summary was all about Billy, but of course avoiding the salacious details. Even doing that, I guess my enthusiasm was pretty over the top. Eventually, Mum remarked, "It seems like Billy is becoming very special to you..."
Yeah, well if that wasn't the obvious sign to get on with it, then there was never going to be another one. Still my heart started pounding through my chest and I could feel the droplets of sweat begin to trickle down under my armpit. All my cool logic that I'd rehearsed with Billy and then his parents seemed to abandon me. In my mind, I thought I'd be firm, forthright, looking my Mum in the eye…in reality, I was trembling, staring at the countertop, and could barely muster a whisper, "Yeah, about that…"
It took all my nerve to raise my eyes up to Mum's. The second we made eye contact, I knew…that 'she knew'. She gave me that Mum smile that said everything was going to be all right. Still I could feel my eyes welling up as I said it. "I'm gay," I barely got out, "Billy's my boyfriend."
Mum came around the counter and pulled me into her. I know I've been busting on squishy floppy boobs, but when you're Mum's trying to comfort you, maybe they're not so bad. She started running her fingers through my hair—she's done that as long as I can remember and it's always helped calm me down. Somewhere in all this, Dad had obviously come back into the kitchen and Mum must have mouthed a silent 'He's gay', because next thing I knew I was being hugged from behind too. I know I was way over the top emotionally. I mean in the greater scheme of things everything was good right—no crazy parents, no kicked out of the house, no conversion therapy or any of those other horror stories that I know others have suffered.
Eventually, we pulled apart and I dried my tears—by then, Winston had even gotten into the family hug, leveraging his bulk up on the rung of my stool to give me puppy kisses. We talked for a long time about me, my feelings, how long—and then of course about Billy. Yeah, I grin ear to ear whenever I start talking about hm, so I guess it was painfully obvious to the most casual observer (and my parents are definitely not casual!) that I really liked him.
Of course, Mum was all over the 'meeting his parents' idea. Lunch was abandoned as she tracked down their number and made contact. I cringed as she invited them over for dinner that night; but then that did mean I got to see Billy again before tomorrow so I really couldn't complain—yeah, I was that smitten. Billy and I were blushing as my Mum ushered the Shelby's in, but we managed to slip off to the family room/my 'office' for some kissing while the parents socialized in the kitchen.
Dinner was at our outdoor table under the overhang by the pool—tiki torches and all. The parents at one end having a grand time as Mum would say. Billy and I enjoyed ourselves at the opposite end…having kicked off our shoes (or my one shoe anyway) so we could play footsie—like I said I love touching and being touched—throughout dinner. After dinner, the parents migrated back inside, while Billy and I moved over to the cushioned seats along the wall. It was there that he spied my guitar, noting that I'd never played for him yet.
Sitting face to face, I first launched into Galway Bay, since that was the first song Mum had ever taught me and to this day was her favorite. As I finished, Billy asked me to play 'my favorite' for him and I got a chill through my whole body. I knew immediately the song I had to play—one that I'd never sung for anyone before…one that technically, no one had ever heard before. I hadn't written it, but I'd kind of pieced it together from two different songs.
I was kind of scared as I started strumming the intro, because of what the song said. But I felt it in all my heart, and this time 'Bold Finn' was winning out. "I've never played this for anyone," I whispered as I got ready. "I call this 'Righteous Elvis', because I put it together from songs of theirs." Billy's eyes got kind of wide at that point and he slid his hand froward to rest on my knee as I started singing.
Wise men say, only fools rush in.
But I can't help falling in love with you
Shall I stay? Would it be a sin?
If I can't help falling in love with you?
Lonely rivers flow to the sea, to the sea
To the open arms of the sea, yeah
Lonely rivers sigh, "Wait for me, wait for me"
e coming home, wait for me
Take my hand
Take my whole life, too
For I can't help falling in love with you
Lonely rivers flow to the sea, to the sea
To the open arms of the sea, yeah
Lonely rivers sigh, "Wait for me, wait for me"
I'll be coming home, wait for me
Take my hand
Take my whole life, too
For I can't help falling in love with you
For I can't help falling in love with you
As I got to the final refrain, Billy reached over and took my hand in his—we sang the last verse together acapella. As the song ended, he leaned forward so we were touching foreheads and whispered "I love you too." Both of us just staring at each other, grinning madly, whispering 'love you' over and over—such a beautiful, touching moment…until the YELP…or erp, or whatever it was.
We both jumped back and whipped our heads towards the windows…and four sets of parental eyes staring back at us through the casement windows from all of two feet away. Mrs. Shelby-clearly the source of the yelp—had a horrified look as she realized what she'd done. Mum gave me that same look she'd given me earlier in the kitchen—until I yelled 'Mum' with all the teenage indignation I could muster.
Fortunately, she then had the presence of mind to grab Mrs. Shelby and beat feet to the kitchen. The Dads just stood there staring and grinning—my Dad giving me a thumbs up (seriously??!!). Mr. Shelby I couldn't read. He just kept flicking his eyes back and forth between Billy and me. I whispered to Billy, "We have to run away!" Grabbing my crutches, I led us to the opposite side of the pool to our gazebo—my runaway spot when I was little and not allowed to cross the street. Billy and I spent the rest of the evening out there until Dad hollered across the pool to give us the 15 minutes heads up that the Shelby's would be leaving.
As we were cleaning the kitchen, Mum and Dad did apologize for the intrusion on my song earlier. They had heard me singing Galway Bay and pulled the Shelby's over to hear it. They didn't realize what I was going to sing next, and by the time they did it was too late. That said, Mum was concerned, and started down a 'Billy and I might be moving awfully fast' path. I was just getting ready to protest, when Dad came to my defense. He shrugged his shoulders and said he'd fallen for Mum the moment he'd first seen her and knew he was going to marry her by the end of the night! Go Dad!
With the start of the new work week, Billy and I were back to our routine—summer reading in the AM, work out at the gym, hang out in the afternoon. 'Hang out' now had a whole new meaning though—we got lots of play time and vigorously pursued our mutual explorations and 'firsts'. Two weeks later, I did finally get rid of the hated brace and cast—still had to use the crutches for a while and of course then launched into hardcore physical therapy. But at least I had Billy to help me with PT and we got to use the pool. And eventually Sean joined us, when he and his family finally returned from their Great European Tour.
It was mid-August by the time we found ourselves with another weekend 'sans parents', and yes, we did conquer 'the' major first that weekend—sharing our virginity with each other. One of my lesbian sister's guy friends, who was bi, had come over and given us a very practical and informative 'lesson' on how to go about it—cleanliness, stretching, lube, going slow, and clean-up which proved very helpful. He'd even given each of us little string backpacks filled with 'necessary items'.
Billy called 'Bottom', claiming it was like calling shotgun, so I went first—actually first and second. We were both totally giddy after we had both cum, and as I giggled, Billy could feel my still rock-hard shaft bouncing inside him. He insisted I go for round two without even pulling out—so I did, much more slowly, our lips locked the whole time. We then took a break for dinner, walked Winston, and then I lay back as Billy entered me. I have to admit, it hurt like hell at first—even with all the lube and stretching (curse of a 'bigger boyfriend' haha). But the pain dulled and pleasure took over, especially when he got the angles right and started hitting my prostate. Once again, I started speaking in tongues until I shot ropes all over my chest; I could feel my hole clenching on Billy, and he started cumming just after me.
We drifted off to sleep with Billy spooning me. One of my favorite positions, it's just so nice to be wrapped up in his arms, feeling his chest rising and falling against my back. Billy got his 'round two' (not that we're keeping count, ok, maybe I am just a little…I'm kind of ODC like that) the next morning. I'd slipped out of bed to pee, and got an 'evil' idea. A quick trip to the kitchen and some hot tea triggered 'my business'; then I swung by my bathroom to complete the 'clean up' and lubed myself up. True to form, Billy was dead to the world as I gently straddled him. I knew I needed to move quickly, as he started to stir as I ran my lubed hand down his morning wood. His eyes didn't snap open though until his head was already inside me—success!
"Ummm, what are you doing?", he mused sleepily as his hands went to my thighs and he pushed up as I pressed down.
"PT, doctor's orders," I smirked, quite proud of myself, "I'm supposed to be working on flexing my knee!"
"Ok then, I guess as a supportive boyfriend, I should help you with your PT and not make you stop this". We both giggled at how ridiculous any thought of stopping would be.
We were both quite sore by Sunday morning as we'd basically spent the entire weekend in bed. We didn't want to be too blatant as our parents were being very cool about us spending time together, to include overnights, so we made sure take care of any evidence. Billy was helping me strip the sheets when my calendar fell from between the bed and my night stand. "What's this?" he asked picking it up and flipping through it. "Finn's Pity Party?"
I laughed. "That's my calendar for marking off my time in purgatory. You've met my Mum. She can be a little sarcastic with her love. She named my calendar that when I was whining about how horrible my summer was going to be—destroyed knee, all laid up on the coach, all my friends out of town, whine, whine."
Billy flipped through it again. "But you stopped crossing it off." He looked more closely and grinned. "You stopped the day we kissed."
I blushed, and yes, we were both still totally naked so it was a facial cheek, chest, back and butt cheek blush. "Yeah, well my world kind of got rocked in an awesome way by the world's most amazing boy that day. Summer didn't seem like it was going to be such a disaster after that, I kinda forgot about cross off the days."
I could see the wheels churning in Billy's head. Finally he looked up and jerked his head, "Come over here." I tilted my head and cocked an eyebrow—my 'Curious Winston' look as Mum says—and sidled up next to him, not getting why he was so fascinated with my unfinished calendar. "You know what this means right?"
"Ummmm. I don't finish what I started." I tried lamely. I most definitely did not get it.
"No. No. No. This shows how much you love me." He grinned, "This is Love by Omission. Like my Sin of Omission. You stopped crossing days of because you fell in love."
Well, I got all warm inside as I finally understood where he was going. I couldn't argue with that logic because of course he was spot on. Though I'd probably have to run the idea by Father O'Malley just to be sure the concept worked from a theological perspective.
I nodded when he asked if he could keep it, though I thought it an odd souvenir. The rest of the summer flew by and then we were off to our junior year at Haverford Prep. I'd long forgotten about the calendar, and so suspected nothing when Billy pulled me aside at Christmas to give me this really long, flat present. I'm known for figuring out my presents just by size, shape, weight; but with this one I had had me stumped.
I tore off the wrapping paper and just stared, totally stunned. Billy had put June, July and August together top to bottom, and had stolen my red marker to match my X's on the weekend we'd shared our virginity. He'd added 'From' at the start of 'Finn's Pity Party' at the top, and 'To Love by Omission' at the bottom. He'd then gotten an artist friend to sketch in the empty area with a big picture of Billy and I dominating the space—standing face to face though both our bodies kind of faced towards the audience. We were gazing into each other's eyes…you could feel that we were about to kiss. Very loving. Then all around the edges were a series of smaller pictures: me with my cast; Billy running cross country; me on a high bar; Winston of course; Billy, Sean and I all synchronous diving; and Billy and I from the back, with our string backpacks we'd been given in our 'anal lesson', both of us looking over our shoulders with surprised 'you caught us' looks.
That picture hangs in our apartment at UPENN that we share with Sean and his girlfriend. They're going on two years while Billy and I are going on four years now.
This story is part of the 2022 story challenge "Inspired by a Picture: Crashing Bore". The other stories may be found at the challenge home page. Please read them, too. The voting period of 17 Dec ember 2021 to 7 January 2022 is when the voting is open. This story may be rated, below, against a set of criteria, and may be rated against other stories on the challenge home page.
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